Chapter 778

The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Release schedule: 3 chapters per week

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Ereneth instinctively covered her mouth.

Her eyes widened as she muttered in a panicked voice.

“Why… is the name of the Grand Duke of Fenris…?”

She had called Astion “Ghislain”?

Until now, she had no such memory. That was why, even when she first met the Grand Duke of Fenris, she hadn’t associated him with Astion.

Because he was truly a stranger to her.

And yet now, her memories felt like a jumbled mess.

As past memories blurred, new recollections surfaced. It was as if a forgotten memory had suddenly returned to her.

It made no sense. She was an elf who had surpassed the realm of the Transcendents.

With the elven trait of exceptional memory combined with transcendent senses, it was rare for her to forget anything.

Ereneth gritted her teeth, forcing herself to recall the past.

Yes, that’s right…

‘When we first met the Julien Mercenary Corps…’

Back then, the Julien Mercenary Corps was a group of greenhorns.

To be honest, they were closer to a band of wandering adventurers than an actual mercenary corps.

Even their registration as a mercenary unit was nothing more than a formality to make their activities more convenient.

They had, by chance, rescued a kidnapped elf. Thanks to that act, they were invited to the Forest of the Elves.

That event marked the beginning of the Julien Mercenary Corps’ extended stay in the forest.

While staying there, they trained under Ilaniel’s guidance and became considerably stronger.

Julien in particular had even learned to wield spirits. Because of that, the elves regarded the Julien Mercenary Corps with even more favor.

‘…They were good people.’

Though elves were typically hostile toward humans, the Julien Mercenary Corps was an exception.

They all had good hearts, and Ilaniel had acknowledged them.

While they stayed, the Forest of the Elves was lively again. But that peace didn’t last long.

‘…The Salvation Church.’

It was because the Prophet of the Salvation Church, Rahmod, had invaded the forest, leading an army of orcs and black mages.

Despite years of preparation, the elves collapsed helplessly under the Salvation Church’s assault.

In her final moments, Ilaniel entrusted the World Tree’s seed to Ereneth. To Deneb, she gave the Blessing Stone of their race.

She also opened an escape route, allowing Ereneth and the Julien Mercenary Corps to flee.

That day, the Forest of the Elves fell. Ilaniel lost her life as well.

After barely escaping, they encountered the papal delegation.

‘Lionel.’

Lionel was among them. He had tried to retrieve the Blessing Stone from Deneb.

But Deneb would not easily hand over the stone that Ilaniel had given her life to protect.

In the end, Lionel trailed the Julien Mercenary Corps, attempting to persuade Deneb.

The Julien Mercenary Corps headed straight for the dwarves, predicting that the Salvation Church would invade there next.

But Valskrum fell even more quickly than the Forest of the Elves.

‘…Because of Torvalt.’

The dwarven prince who had stolen “Gramdyr,” the royal family’s treasure, and run away from home.

Grondal, upon learning the truth, left Valskrum to personally capture Torvalt.

By the time he heard the news and rushed back, Valskrum had already been reduced to ashes.

The Eternal Forge was destroyed, but by a stroke of luck amidst the misfortune, the Salvation Church had failed to retrieve the Sacred Stone.

Grondal, having barely salvaged the Sacred Stone from the ruins, would later entrust it to the Saintess.

Afterward, he became the embodiment of vengeance and spent his life battling the Salvation Church.

‘Torvalt…’

Torvalt had happened to encounter the Julien Mercenary Corps and joined them. He, too, heard about Valskrum’s fate belatedly and lived his life consumed by guilt.

Like Grondal, Torvalt devoted himself to vengeance.

He never let go of “Gramdyr,” the last treasure left behind by the fallen Valskrum. He strove to become stronger by learning swordsmanship from Julien and Kyle.

He became a rare dwarf who wielded a sword and eventually reached the realm of the Transcendents, playing an active role in the Great War.

However, despite having fought side by side in the Great War, Grondal and Torvalt—whose paths had diverged—never exchanged a single word until their deaths.

‘And then…’

Ereneth suddenly clutched her head. Her memories beyond that point had grown blurry.

No—more precisely, different memories and unfamiliar emotions were beginning to entangle themselves together.

Were these truly memories of her own past?

Doubt began to creep in.

Everything felt unfamiliar. It was as though she were peering into someone else’s life.

Was this what the emotional distance of an audience watching a play felt like?

Drip… drip…

Blood began to trickle from the tip of her nose.

“Chieftain!”

“What’s happening!”

Startled elves hurried toward her.

Ereneth reached out a hand to hold them back.

She kept focusing her mind, trying to untangle the jumbled memories in her head.

‘…The Forest of the Elves…’

Was not destroyed.

The Julien Mercenary Corps hadn’t rescued the elves and been invited into the forest. They had visited as part of the papal delegation but had been denied entry.

Then that lunatic named Astion had sneaked into the forest of the elves. To steal the Blessing Stone, no less.

However, thanks to the help of the Julien Mercenary Corps, they had managed to repel the invasion of the Salvation Church.

Though Ilaniel had consumed her life force and grown weaker, what mattered was that she had survived.

After that, with Ilaniel’s permission, Ereneth joined the Julien Mercenary Corps.

‘…Valskrum…’

Was not destroyed either.

This time, too, the Julien Mercenary Corps had helped the dwarves.

Grondal and the Julien Mercenary Corps had thwarted the Salvation Church’s invasion.

And from that war, humanity had gained a great figure—the Saintess.

Torvalt, too, had not wandered the continent as a fugitive. He had returned to Valskrum and grown as a warrior.

Yes, this was the correct memory.

Thanks to the Julien Mercenary Corps… everything had gone smoothly, and the outcome had been good—this memory, that is.

Ereneth was certain of it.

Then what mistake had she made? What were those previous memories?

‘No…’

Her body began to tremble slightly.

The Saintess had not awakened in Valskrum.

Her awakening had taken place sometime later.

In a different place, on a different battlefield.

Her memories were fragmented, mixed, and distorted. Even the flow of time didn’t match up.

Something was tangled.

Where had all those memories come from up until now?

What was false, and what was real?

Ereneth quietly raised her head and looked to the sky. Then she glanced around.

It felt awkward.

All of a sudden, the world seemed strangely out of place.

It felt like she alone had become a foreign entity in this world.

Even though she had once realized harmony with the world and reached transcendence.

— Sis! It’s me, Astion!

‘……’

— Sis, I know everything about you! I even remember you said you’d be my girlfriend!

‘…Astion?’

At the sudden memory, Ereneth felt bewildered.

The Astion she knew was always sensitive and irritable.

He never acted warmly toward anyone, nor did he show any particular kindness. He had merely been an eccentric mage constantly suffering from headaches.

He had never acted like such a fool.

And yet…

Why did that version of him feel so endearing and nostalgic?

Why did that memory make her heart ache so deeply?

Ereneth, without realizing it, smiled as she wept.

‘Ghislain…’

Why had she called Astion “Ghislain”?

She was confused.

Her mind remained tangled in chaos.

Unfamiliar memories and unexperienced emotions kept flooding her.

The past she once believed she knew felt increasingly unfamiliar.

Then she came to a realization.

This strange phenomenon had begun after the Grand Duke of Fenris collapsed.

‘Yes, it was definitely the Grand Duke of Fenris…’

After he returned from the core of the Forest of Beasts—after seeing the sealed Demonic Abyss—he asked her:

— You said you worked with the Saintess, right?

— Yes.

— The Saintess said she had met me before. And that she would meet me again. Then… have you met me before?

— Are you insane?

— ……

— The Saintess and I were together a thousand years ago. So how could you possibly have met her?

Yes, they had definitely exchanged that conversation.

At that moment, a chill ran down Ereneth’s spine.

Within the unconscious mind of the fallen Duke of Fenris, there had been a “Gate” formed from Divine Power.

She didn’t know exactly what it was.

But she could surmise that the Duke of Fenris’s consciousness had been drawn into that place.

‘Could it be that…’

If he had truly met the Saintess…

If we really had met a thousand years ago…

Then these memories surfacing now…

Ereneth murmured with a dazed expression.

“Ghislain… you really…”

* * *

“Ghislain! You’re amazing!”

Ereneth threw her arms around Ghislain’s neck from behind, laughing. But Ghislain, with an indifferent look, shrugged her off.

“Let go. It’s hot.”

At his apathetic reaction, Ereneth pouted her lips and furrowed her brow.

She truly thought Ghislain was amazing.

Even in this battle that she had believed they couldn’t possibly win, he had led them to victory.

Especially his tactic of sending allies to different locations to minimize casualties—that had been completely unexpected.

Only Ghislain could have thought of and executed such a bold strategy.

The more she looked at him, the more impressive he seemed. That was why she had praised him—yet he reacted so indifferently!

‘Strange. I heard human men like this sort of thing?’

She had definitely heard that humans liked it when elves clung to them. She’d even read it in storybooks.

But reality was completely different. Ghislain didn’t seem the least bit interested in her looks.

The personality that had surfaced earlier, “Astion,” had absolutely adored her, though.

As Ereneth sulked, Osval, who was packing gear beside her, clicked his tongue.

“Tsk tsk. You can’t just throw yourself at someone banking on your looks. Have you already forgotten what Lady Ilaniel said? That looks aren’t what matter.”

“…Huh?”

Ereneth gave him a bewildered look.

She had only done it because she wanted to get a little closer to Ghislain. She was just trying to apply what she’d learned about humans.

No—regardless of her intentions… she couldn’t believe she was being lectured about the insignificance of appearances by someone who had gone wild over Julien’s looks.

Oblivious or uncaring, Osval turned to Kyle, who was also packing up beside him.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s weird, Brother? Just now, after seeing Sister Ereneth, I had a revolutionary realization about the unfairness of the world.”

“…What now?”

“When you earn a lot of money, you pay a lot of taxes, right? Everyone agrees that’s fair.”

“…Yeah?”

“Then why don’t beautiful and handsome people pay taxes too? Shouldn’t there be a beauty tax for fairness? Especially elves—they should pay several times more, right?”

“……”

“Am I wrong? Isn’t that what fairness looks like? Huh? What do you think, Brother?”

“…I dunno. Stuff like that.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, this is exactly why ideological education and revolution are necessary. If I just had power, I’d lock them all up…”

At Osval’s increasingly extreme remarks, Ereneth and Kyle wore sour expressions.

That guy was always going on about seizing and revolting, but his words were starting to sound genuinely dangerous.

Regardless, Osval continued muttering to himself.

“A revolution is needed… I’ll gather people who think like me, we’ll take up spears… Right, I should write all this down too. One day, I’ll definitely form a ‘Revolutionary Group.’”

He pulled out paper and pen, jotting something down on his own. It seemed to contain his ideology and philosophy.

Everyone around him quietly backed away. He wasn’t someone it paid to get too friendly with.

Ghislain usually didn’t care what Osval said. He accepted that the world was full of all kinds of lunatics.

But lately, the word “revolution” coming from Osval’s mouth was starting to get on his nerves.

‘No way… because of this guy? Nah, can’t be.’

He recalled a group that had stirred up chaos across the continent in the distant future.

It was too far-fetched. There was no way Osval’s radical ideas could survive for a thousand years.

‘Even if he writes all that down, there’s no way it’d last a millennium. Probably someone else just had similar ideas. Anyone could think of something like that.’

Ghislain brushed it off.

Perhaps he was just a bit sensitive because of past events affecting the future—like the “Black Mage Duck Incident.”

But contrary to Ghislain’s thoughts, Osval was already making a firm vow as he scribbled down his philosophy.

‘Even if I die before completing the revolution… if I get the chance, I’ll preserve these writings with magic. So someone in the future can see them and carry on my will. Oh! Since I travel a lot, I could even engrave them onto stones in various regions. Someone might get inspired enough to try revolution just from that.’

Ambitious as ever, he hoped his ideology would become eternal.

‘Revolutionary Osval. Damn, that sounds cool. Truly, a person must be intellectual.’

Osval was immensely pleased with himself. He felt like a magnificent philosopher.

With that slightly dangerous chatter in the background, the Julien Mercenary Corps quickly packed and prepared to depart.

Grondal shook Ghislain’s hand and said,

“Next time, alright? Let’s have a proper match and see who’s stronger.”

“Of course. It’ll be a good fight.”

Both of them were certain they would win.

So even as they smiled, their grips tightened.

The handshake lasted oddly long.

Though smiles remained on their lips, their cheeks trembled, and their hands began to twitch.

“…Father, please stop.”

“…Ghislain, seriously.”

Only after others stepped in and pried them apart did they finally let go.

Both of their hands had gone pale from lack of blood flow, but their expressions remained entirely nonchalant.

The Julien Mercenary Corps departed Valskrum from the grand send-off of the dwarves.

This journey, too, had been a success. They had acquired the Sacred Stone and earned the dwarves’ favor.

Now, the Julien Mercenary Corps would have the strong backing of both the elves and dwarves in the Great War.

But Ghislain wasn’t satisfied with just that.

‘The Julien Mercenary Corps must be at the center.’

Only then could he steer the war in the direction he desired. Only then would no one dare to scheme around the Julien Mercenary Corps.

Ghislain unfurled the map. The next destination was a considerable distance away.

And for good reason—it was a forbidden land unfit for human habitation.

And there, lay the one who possessed the final Sacred Stone not held by humans.

‘…We meet again.’

Not in the past, but first encountered in the future.

The being that split the skies, heralding the end of the world.

The final dragon who had threatened humanity.

‘The Dragon Lord, Arterion.’

It was time to meet him.