The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 808

Chapter 808
Ghislain recoiled, his footsteps uneven as he retreated. His gaze flickered with intense agitation and shock. The dark suspicion he had harbored was manifesting as a grim reality right before him.

“But why…”

Questions raced through his mind. How could the Pope be the Adversary? Why did Ernheart possess the exact visage of that ancient enemy? And why did the Salvation Order continue their search for a sovereign while standing in the very presence of Ernheart?

By every metric of his senses, Ernheart was the Pope and the physical vessel of the Adversary’s rebirth. To claim otherwise at this point felt like a denial of the obvious.

Yet, a profound dissonance lingered. If the Adversary from a millennium ago had indeed been the Pope, it was inconceivable that Ereneth and Arterion would have failed to identify that face instantly.

Ghislain cast a glance toward Ereneth. She was enduring an agony that manifested as tears of blood, her frame trembling under the pressure. Despite her state, she fought to stand, driven by an instinctive need to oppose the Adversary at any cost.

“Why did she point to Julien…?”

Ereneth had identified Julien as the Adversary. It was highly improbable that she would mistake Julien’s features for those of the Pope.

Then, a sudden realization struck Ghislain like a bolt of lightning.

“Ereneth has never actually seen the Duke of Delphine.”

She had never been in the presence of Ernheart’s true face. While the high-ranking nobility of Ruthania and the military elite were familiar with Ernheart, Ereneth—who had only cooperated with them for a short duration—had not. During Ghislain’s strike on the Delphine estate, Ereneth had been occupied on the northern front against Gatros.

A wave of bitter regret washed over him. Had he provided her with even a simple sketch of Ernheart, they might have unraveled this mystery much sooner.

“There is a deeper mechanism at play here.”

For a being of draconic lineage, and for Ereneth, who stood far above the realm of superhumans, to designate Julien as the Adversary meant there had to be a foundational reason.

However, the luxury of reflection vanished.

The Adversary’s presence expanded violently, a tide of darkness threatening to drown the world.

Ruuuumble!

Under the weight of that shadow, the heavens turned pitch black. The natural order of light and shadow failed, and the sun seemed to vanish. Only the sacred radiance emanating from Deneb prevented the total consumption of the world by the void.

The Adversary’s blood-red eyes locked onto Ghislain.

“I shall repeat the inquiry. Who are you?”

“…The man destined to end you.”

Ghislain spat the words through a mask of blood. Regardless of the current odds, that conviction remained unshaken. Even if victory eluded him today, he was certain that a thousand years in the future, Ernheart would fall by his blade.

Kwoooooooom!

Ghislain summoned the remnants of his Will. His physical form was a wreck, his vitality nearly spent. He was a shadow of his peak self, and he knew his current strength was likely insufficient to even graze the Adversary. Yet, despite the futility, Ghislain lunged forward and lashed out with his sword.

Up until this moment, he hadn’t managed a single clean hit on the Pope, but the dynamic had shifted. With Deneb, the Saintess, present, the battlefield was changed. The holy energy that countered the Adversary’s gloom flowed into Ghislain’s steel, making it erupt with a brilliant white light.

Kwoooom!

Ghislain’s blade descended with enough force to cleave the horizon, crashing into the Adversary. The mantle of shadows surrounding the figure tore open under the holy friction. It was effective—but the sheer volume of the Adversary’s power was overwhelming. The rent in the darkness knitted back together instantly, returning to its impenetrable state.

“Kh…”

Having poured every last drop of his essence into the strike, Ghislain coughed up a spray of crimson and slumped to the earth. His legs refused to support him any longer.

“Your struggles reach their conclusion here.”

With those frigid words, dozens of obsidian tendrils erupted from the Adversary’s form, screaming through the air to pierce Ghislain.

Kwooooom!

The killing blow never landed. A wall of blinding light intercepted the darkness as Iralniel stepped into the gap.

Her aura flared into a protective dome, shielding Ghislain. Simultaneously, Grondal’s heavy halberd whistled through the air, aiming for the Adversary’s skull.

Kwooooom!

In that split second of distraction, Iralniel grabbed Ghislain and retreated. She maintained her protective aura, pulling Deneb and the members of the Julien Mercenary Corps back to a safer distance. Meanwhile, Grondal unleashed a relentless sequence of strikes with his halberd, hammering at the Adversary.

Kwoom! Kwoom! Kwoom! Kwoooom!

Under the weight of Grondal’s savage assault, the Adversary was forced back step by step. However, despite taking the full brunt of the impacts, he appeared entirely uninjured.

The Adversary, his eyes burning like dying stars, lifted a hand as he studied Grondal.

“…Is this how it manifests?”

Whispering to himself, he made a casual reaching motion toward Grondal’s flank.

Kwoooom!

A detonation of dark energy followed, and Grondal was sent flying through the air.

Before the Adversary could press the advantage, Iralniel surged back into the fray, her power radiating outward. The elven elders took up positions beside her, joined by the captains of the dwarven clans.

The rank-and-file soldiers stayed back; anyone who had not reached the tier of a superhuman would be nothing more than a liability in this exchange.

Kwoom! Kwoom! Kwoom! Kwoooom!

A devastating barrage from the gathered masters fell upon him. Elemental spirits manifested as cyclones of fire and gale, crashing against the Adversary.

Yet he stood firm, absorbing the collective fury. The shadows rippled like water under the impact, but his physical form remained untouched.

“……”

Amidst the storm, the Adversary raised his palm. Darkness erupted.

Kwooom!

With every flick of his wrist, a superhuman master was batted aside like a mere insect.

It appeared as though he were calibrating his own capabilities, slowly increasing the output of his power.

Kwoom! Kwoom! Kwoom!

None could endure more than a couple of exchanges. With each hit, masters were sent tumbling, their bones snapping and blood staining the grass. It was only the persistent holy light from Deneb that kept their hearts beating.

Kwooom!

Only Iralniel and Grondal managed to stay on their feet, though they were being ground down, their stances wavering.

The Adversary gazed at the dark flames licking at his fingertips and spoke in a low tone.

“Is the taste of liberty so sweet? But your fury is too chaotic… You belong within my essence. Power that lacks a master is worse than none at all… Submit to my command and reveal your depths to me…”

It sounded as though he were addressing the very darkness that had saturated his body.

With effortless calm, he tapped into even greater reserves.

Kwooooom!

“Kh…!”

Grondal grunted, his boots digging deep furrows into the earth as he was shoved back by the sheer pressure.

Iralniel lost her footing entirely, tumbling across the dirt with blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.

Grondal looked over at her and growled.

“Damn it! You really aren’t at full strength, are you!”

Iralniel had sacrificed a portion of her life force during the clash with the Prophets. She was no longer capable of reaching her former peak.

Ruuuuumble…

The sky grew even more oppressive. The energy rolling off the Adversary seemed to have no ceiling.

Iralniel wiped her chin and stood firm. “Do not falter. As long as the Saintess stands, we have a chance to end this.”

Deneb remained on her knees, eyes closed in fervent prayer. The radiance flowing from her was intensifying. Though the world felt as if it were being submerged in a dark ocean, her light acted as a defiant lighthouse.

Sssssss… The dark mist from the Adversary dissolved wherever it met the holy light. Even the shadowy corruption that had begun to take root in the wounded was purged by her divine aura. Furthermore, her presence dampened the Adversary’s lethality, allowing the fallen masters to find the strength to stand once more.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The conflict between the masters and the Adversary reignited. As the darkness swelled, so did the territory of the light, granting the superhumans a surge of renewed vigor.

Observing them, the Adversary remarked, “Truly… the title of Saintess is well-earned…”

To the Adversary, Deneb’s power was a persistent irritation. Yet it was not a fatal one. He had yet to fully commit his strength; he was simply taking the necessary time to domesticate the wild energy that had recently awakened within him.

Boom! Boom! Booooom!

Clashes of shadow and light tore at the atmosphere and cracked the ground. With a simple wave of his hand, the Adversary broke the bodies of his attackers, yet they continued to crawl back to their feet for another charge.

But the grim reality was settling in: they were losing a war of attrition. Their stamina was flagging, while the Adversary’s momentum was only building. Without the Saintess, they would have been annihilated minutes ago.

Ghislain, lying near Deneb, struggled to move, but his limbs were unresponsive.

“Gh…rrgh…”

A groan of frustration escaped him. The fact that he was even conscious was a feat of sheer will. The synchronization between his soul and Astion’s body was fracturing, the gap becoming an abyss.

“Ghislain!”

Ereneth, having finally purged the Pope’s lingering influence from her system, ran to his side. She tried to support him and offer some of her own energy, assuming his collapse was due to mana exhaustion.

However, Ghislain’s system rejected the influx of energy entirely.

As the others gathered around, Ghislain forced the words out. “Go… support the frontline. We must strike while Deneb is holding the line…”

Without the divine protection, the Adversary was untouchable. This window was their only hope.

His allies gave a heavy nod. Despite their fatigue, they knew only those of their caliber could enter that storm.

Ghislain reached out and grabbed Julien’s arm. “Julien… you have to go and move the others…”

“Move who?”

“The ones just standing there… the Empire’s forces. We need the Imperial knights and the high priests to engage…”

Julien understood. Standing on the periphery were numerous Imperial masters and high-ranking clerics, all frozen in a state of paralyzed shock, unable to process the Adversary’s revelation.

As the rest of the group returned to the melee, Julien sprinted toward the Imperial lines. The soldiers and priests were indeed staring at the carnage with hollow expressions.

Julien stood before them and roared, “Lend us your strength! You cannot stay idle!”

They looked at him with profound uncertainty, their minds unable to bridge the gap between their faith and the reality before them. Julien’s eyes found a familiar figure—Cardinal Porisco.

Julien rushed to him. “Quickly, command the Imperial masters and the clergy!”

“W-what is this? Why would His Holiness… project the same vile energy as the Salvation Order…”

“Because he is their leader! He is the Adversary who stands against the goddesses!”

“No, that’s impossible, how could the Pope… how…”

“You heard his own confession! If we fail to stop him here, no one leaves this place alive! We must unite with the Saintess!”

“But… the Saintess has not been officially recognized by the Holy See…”

“Wake up!”

Even Julien’s shouting couldn’t fully break their trance. The situation was too surreal.

Porisco stammered, “In the heart of the Capital… a place of such divine concentration… how could the Order’s darkness hide within him…”

If such a presence had resided in the Pope, it should have been detected long ago. It should have been physically impossible to conceal. This paradox kept them rooted in disbelief.

Julien didn’t have the time or the full knowledge to explain the mechanics of it. He did what he had to do: he gave them a narrative they could grasp.

“The real Pope was murdered long ago. This monster killed him and took his shape. He has only now dropped the mask. We knew the truth—that is why we refused to hand over the Sacred Stones.”

“W-what are you saying…”

Porisco gulped. To kill a Pope and impersonate him under the noses of the entire church? It was unthinkable. Unless… it was never a man to begin with, but a demon in human skin. Either way, it was a nightmare.

But Julien had spent enough time around Ghislain to know that sometimes, a bold lie is the only way forward.

“There is no time for questions. If we hesitate, everything burns. We must act now.”

“But…”

“Look! The High Chief of the elves and the King of the dwarves are risking their lives! We can argue about the details after he is restrained!”

“…Understood.”

Porisco turned to the assembly. He raised his voice to the Imperial commanders and the other cardinals. “As it stands, the figure before us is not His Holiness, but the Adversary of the Salvation Order. We must subdue him at once.”

There were no dissenting voices. The atmosphere was too heavy with the scent of death for anyone to argue.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The twelve Imperial superhumans drew their blades in unison, the steel glowing with a sharp blue light. Behind them, the ranks of knights raised their shields, creating a wall of steel.

Six cardinals performed the ritual sign of the cross, releasing a flood of divine energy. A pure white light washed over the Imperial troops. With the combined effort of the high priests, a tide of radiance began to roll forward.

Mages began their incantations, weaving complex geometric circles into the air.

Duke Stauffen, the commander-in-chief, pointed his sword toward the darkness.

“All units…” He paused, the gravity of the moment weighing on him.

But looking at the field, he saw where the light truly resided.

Trusting his instincts, he bellowed the order.

“…Protect the Saintess!”

“Uoooooh!”

The Imperial army finally surged into the conflict.

The thunder of armored boots, blessed by light and steel, shook the foundations of the Capital.