The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Chapter 788

Episode 788: You Know Who I Am (5)

In the midst of a fierce blizzard, the world was a blanket of white.
Even the boundary between sky and earth blurred, creating the illusion that the world was engulfed in snow.
The frigid wind sliced through my skin with a mere brush against my cheek, and every breath I took pierced my lungs like needles.
Everything was frozen in white. The occasional crack of ice cracking was the only sign that this land was still alive.
“Kuuuuuuuu!”
The dragon that had been slicing through the sky folded its wings and landed on the blizzard-swept ground.
Giselle and her companions, dismounting from Arterion’s body, instinctively flinched the moment they stepped into the frigid air.
“…Is this the frigid land?”
Erenes looked around with a hardened expression.
The spirit energy was noticeably weakened, as if weighed down by some unknown force.
An invisible weight permeated the land. Perhaps because of this, they felt a constant, suffocating pressure.
“Ugh! It’s so cold!”
“Even breathing feels painful.”
“You’re not supposed to train in a place like this, are you?”
The mercenaries covered their mouths with both hands and exhaled. Their breath seemed to freeze in mid-air.
Giselle looked around with calm eyes.
The coldness of this land, the silence, and the unknown energy.
Everyone whispered death, but he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“Good. I guess training in a place like this will make you stronger.”
The harsher the environment, the faster the body evolves and becomes stronger. This was exactly the environment Giselle had hoped for.
Arterion smiled at those words.
“Yes, because this place is filled with the purest natural energy of any place. And there’s also the magical field I’ve been creating for a long time.”
Only then did the group realize the nature of the energy oppressing them.
It wasn’t just the cold; it was the magical energy that had accumulated over thousands of years.
Kyle looked around and asked.
“What’s that?”
A small altar made of ice appeared a short distance away.
Arterion said it nonchalantly.
“This is where the Pope’s envoys who arrive here send signals to request an audience. It’s not easy for them to reach my lair on their own.”
In fact, Arterion could sense the presence of intruders without using such a thing.
However, it was reserved for the official envoys.
After explaining, Arterion spread his massive wings again. He looked down at the group and said,
“Your training will now begin.”
The group looked bewildered at that. They knew they were training, but they hadn’t expected them to suddenly begin something like this.
“Skill is not judged by words. Show us.”
Arterion raised his head to the sky and let out a mighty roar.
Kuoooooooooo!
The sound that shook the heavens and the earth wasn’t a simple cry.
It spread far and wide, like a ritual, or a signal.
The magical power he unleashed engulfed the earth and penetrated the darkness beyond the snowy mountains.
The air trembled, and the sound that had echoed from the distant snowfields pierced the group once again.
Arterion smiled and said,
“This is my teaching and my test. From now on, this land is a battlefield.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Arterion flew into the sky in one breath.
At the same time, the bodies of Deneb and some of the mercenaries rose up together.
“Huh? Huh? Huh?”
Deneb and the mercenaries were startled. Their bodies, which had risen into the sky, were soon trapped in a translucent sphere.
“Deneb!”
Yulien jumped to save Deneb.
Boom!
But his body was blocked by a transparent barrier and bounced away.
Yulien gritted his teeth and tried to jump again, but Arterion looked at him and said.
“The story of an evil dragon kidnapping a princess and a warrior coming to rescue her is truly an old and fascinating tale. I hope you all arrive safely at my lair. If you die before you arrive…”
Arterion’s gaze fell on the mercenaries floating in the air.
“I will throw the rest, except for the saint, as food for my guardians.”
The mercenaries floating in the air trembled at those words. It seemed that Arterion had exempted them from training(?) as promised, but they were not grateful at all.
Soon, the dragon’s massive silhouette slowly disappeared into the white blizzard.
A moment of silence passed.
But soon, a heavy rumbling reverberated from beneath the ground like vibrations.
Thump… … . Thump… … .
A moment later, gigantic figures appeared, cutting through the white fog.
Krooooo!
They were ice trolls covered in white fur.
Their eyes were bloodshot red, and the wooden clubs they held were thickly coated in ice.
Next, beasts, cutting through the snow and wind, approached like hunters.
Growl… …
A pack of ice wolves circled, growling.
Their white fur, red eyes, and teeth brimming with cold energy were like living ice. Their
size was also extraordinary. Each one could be said to rival a bison.
“Huh…”
Giselle looked dumbfounded. Hundreds of such monsters had swarmed them.
And they would continue to do so. They were completely driven mad by the dragon’s piercing power.
Arterion’s teachings were utterly ignorant, beyond imagination.
But he understood. From his perspective, it didn’t matter if Giselle and her party died, and if they survived, they would surely become stronger, so it was an efficient method.
“Yes, this is how I’ll improve quickly.”
Giselle grinned and stretched.
Arterion didn’t know, but he himself thoroughly enjoyed this kind of training.
However, there was one regret.
“One person was missing…”
Giselle turned around with a confused expression.
“T-that damn Osval! I don’t understand the situation! I should’ve taken him too!”
Osval was trembling with fear, his expression pale.
Actually, Osval should’ve been taken too, but Arterion had simply omitted him.
Giselle snickered at Osval’s world-shattering expression.
“I guess that means he’s stronger than I thought.”
Although he’d made a general point, Giselle had intended to leave Osval out as well. However, Arterion had left Osval alone and taken the rest of the mercenaries.
This meant that he judged Osval to be slightly stronger than the other mercenaries.
All the hard work had paid off. His skills had improved considerably since they first met.
Giselle gave Osval a thumbs-up and spoke to the group.
“Are you all mentally prepared?”
Yulien, Kyle, Erenes, Lionel, and Marika nodded.
They all looked nervous. Now, they had to overcome this harsh environment and monsters to reach the dragon’s lair.
But they weren’t afraid. They had been through countless death-defying encounters before.
Their faces were filled with the unwavering determination to survive this time, too.
Yulien’s eyes, in particular, blazed with a blazing fire, as if they could scorch this frigid land.
Giselle looked up at the sky.
“Would it be a little easier if we flew?”
Kaaaaah!
But as soon as Giselle finished speaking, countless monsters swarmed from the sky.
Snow wyverns spewed frost from their mouths and circled above the group.
Giselle snickered at the sight.
“Are you going to ignore that kind of trick?”
In the end, they had to push through everything with brute force.
Giselle shook her cloak a few times and turned her shoulder.
“This goal is to reach Dragon Lair without dying. Simple, right?”
Kyle frowned and gripped his sword tightly.
“Simple… Whose standards are you talking about?”
At that, the others also straightened their stances and laughed.
As always, the journey with Giselle was always ‘beyond imagination.’
Who would have thought that asking for help with training would lead to such absurd teachings(?)?
But it wasn’t bad. They themselves felt themselves growing stronger faster than anyone else with each difficult process.
Giselle lowered herself and drew forth her magic. Blue mana seeped into her staff like light.
“Let’s begin.”
Kwaaaaah!
Giselle leaped out like lightning, blasting away the ice troll at the very front.
At the same time, the others moved in their assigned directions.
And so, in the frigid land,
the survival-critical training of the Yulien Mercenary Corps began.

* * *

When he first heard the news of obtaining the Holy Stone, the Pope couldn’t hide his excitement.
“Truly, truly, we’ve obtained the Holy Stone…”
Truthfully, he hadn’t held high expectations for the Julian Mercenaries.
He’d only pinned a small hope on them, since they’d been known to solve problems in various kingdoms without fail.
After all, all the missions had failed, leaving him with no other option but war.
Yet, a single mercenary group had obtained the Holy Stone.
And they’d even managed to repel the Salvation Cult’s invasion.
The joy was immense. But at the same time, a surge of displeasure welled up within him.
“How dare you, Iraniel…”
Iraniel, the elven chieftain, reportedly handed the Holy Stone to a lowly priest,
publicly declaring that no one could take it from her.
This was tantamount to a direct message to himself, the Pope.
The Holy Stone was a sacred object, meant only for him, as the representative of God.
“How dare you deny my authority…”
Anger welled up within him, but he couldn’t fight the elves now.
In any case, the Pope wanted to get the Holy Stone right away. But for now, he had to hold back.
“Still… we need to get more.”
This was his first success. Now, at last, there was a possibility. So, he couldn’t provoke the Julian Mercenaries.
But his anxiety still lingered. He
couldn’t afford to lose the Stone, perhaps due to an attack by the Salvation Church.
He couldn’t send an army. The moment the Imperial army caught up, they would be no different from an envoy.
In fact, they could provoke the dwarves’ resistance or worsen the situation.
So, the Pope quietly issued a new order:
“Recruit the fastest, most skilled assassination group. First, have them locate the Julian Mercenaries and provide covert protection. Also, have them report their every move.”
He had sent Lionel, but he was alone. He didn’t believe he could protect the Julian Mercenaries and secure the Stone. He
also didn’t know if he had been influenced by the Julian Mercenaries.
So, he sent the assassins as a more definitive countermeasure.
Of course, the Assassins were only the primary watchdogs. Such an important task could not be entrusted to mere assassins.
“Move the intelligence unit together and attach it to the Julian Mercenaries. Follow them secretly.”
The Empire’s intelligence unit alone was insufficient. The Julian Mercenaries had to complete their mission safely and return to the Empire.
“Send word to all the kingdoms. Prepare your troops so they can come to support the Julian Mercenaries at any time they are in danger.”
Now, all the kingdoms would mobilize to protect the Julian Mercenaries.
The Pope was so meticulous in protecting the Holy Stone.
He had no doubt that it would fall into his hands.
However, that confidence was shattered by the unexpected news that followed.
“Saint? A saint?”
A saint is a “position” appointed by the Pope himself. It has always been that way.
But it is said that a “real” saint has appeared. She has performed the goddess’s miracles in front of everyone.
Lionel thought he’d misread the text, but soon after, a letter arrived from the dwarven king, Grondal himself.
“Congratulations on the birth of a saint? That lowly priest is the owner of the holy stone?”
Obtaining the dwarven holy stone was certainly a cause for joy. However, the idea that it belonged to someone other than himself was unacceptable.
“Even you, Grondal…”
Even the dwarven king had designated a lowly priest as the owner of the holy stone.
Then, what did he mean by all his actions? Was he merely a sidekick in the creation of a saint?
“I cannot accept it.”
The pope was furious. He wanted to capture and kill the Julien mercenaries right then and there.
“A saint! A saint! Who dares to call themselves a saint!”
A saint had appeared without his permission. Yet, many people claimed to have witnessed the goddess’s miracles.
If this were true, the saint deserved to be treated as equal to, or perhaps even more than, him, the pope.
This was unacceptable. He had to kill her.
Only then can the Pope’s authority be elevated and humanity united.
“The Holy Stone is mine. I must handle it to end this long, drawn-out war.”
The Pope muttered those words several times, his lips quivering.
He had been raised as a messenger of God since childhood.
He believed he would be the savior prophesied to end the war against the Demon Realm.
The fact that he possessed immense divine power, favored by the goddess, was proof of this. No one denied this power.
But then an unexpected obstacle appeared.
The Pope immediately issued a new order.
“Continue to escort and monitor them until they retrieve the final Holy Stone. And if you succeed in obtaining the final Holy Stone…”
The Pope suddenly clutched his head, which was throbbing with a headache, and spoke firmly.
“Kill both the Julian Mercenaries and the fake saintess, and retrieve the Holy Stone.”
That order was immediately relayed to the envoys and armies scattered throughout the countries, as well as to Darenz, who was closely pursuing the Julian Mercenaries. Now that
the Demonic Realm had moved, not even dragons could stop it.
If the elves and dwarves resisted, he planned to crush them with his army.
If he could just secure the Holy Stone, the humans alone could win the war against the Demonic Realm.
From that day on, the Pope suffered from headaches every day due to the constant murderous intent, anger, and anxiety.
“Ugh…”
It wasn’t just the headache that came. The strange phenomena he had suppressed with divine power were returning.
[$%&*#@$%!%^$$#]
An unknown whisper could be heard.
A language he couldn’t understand, yet an ominous voice seemed to seep deep into his bones.
That voice had followed him since childhood.
Because of this very phenomenon, he couldn’t leave the Great Temple even if he wanted to.
If he left this place, protected by a powerful barrier of divine power
, he would be consumed by those whispers. Those whispers were so powerful that he couldn’t suppress them with his own strength.
That’s why he needed the Holy Stone. He had to use its power to free himself from this curse.
And he had to gain the power of the goddess, destroy the demonic realm, and save the world.
That was his sole reason for existing.
He truly believed this.
“I… will save the world… Only… I can do this… Therefore… the false saint must die…”
The Pope repeated this prayer over and over again,
hoping that his unwavering conviction would not be tainted by evil.