Chapter 788

The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Release schedule: 3 chapters per week

Looking for an editor for this novel. If interested please contact fenrirtl. (username)

In the fiercely raging blizzard, the world was nothing but white.

Even the boundary between sky and earth had blurred, giving the illusion that the world itself was submerged in snow.

The biting wind sliced the skin just by brushing against one’s cheek, and each breath felt like needles stabbing the lungs.

Everything was frozen white.

Only the occasional sound of cracking ice served as the sole indication that this land was still alive.

Kuuuuung!

A dragon that had been soaring through the sky folded its wings and landed upon the blizzard-swept ground.

As Ghislain and his group dismounted from Arterion’s back, they instinctively shrank back the moment their feet touched the icy air.

“…This is the Land of Extreme Cold?”

Ereneth looked around with a grim expression.

As if weighed down by something unknown, the presence of spirits had weakened significantly.

An invisible pressure spread across this land. Perhaps because of that, they constantly felt a suffocating sense of oppression.

“Ugh! It’s freezing!”

“Even breathing feels painful.”

“We’re not seriously going to train in a place like this, are we?”

The mercenaries cupped their hands around their mouths, exhaling into them.

The breath they let out seemed to freeze solid in midair.

Ghislain surveyed the surroundings with calm eyes.

The chill of the land, the silence, and the unknown forces.

All of it whispered death, yet his eyes instead gleamed as he spoke.

“This is great. Training in a place like this would make me stronger, faster.”

The harsher the environment, the faster the body evolves and strengthens.

This was exactly the kind of environment Ghislain had been seeking.

At those words, Arterion raised the corners of his mouth in a wide grin.

“Indeed. Nowhere else holds such pure natural energy as this place. And on top of that, there’s also the magic field I’ve maintained here for a long time.”

It was only then that the group realized the true nature of the force pressing down on them.

It wasn’t just the cold—this land was imbued with magic accumulated over thousands of years.

Kyle, after looking around, pointed and asked,

“What’s that?”

A little way off stood a small altar made of ice.

Arterion answered nonchalantly,

“That’s where envoys of the Pope send a signal to request an audience after arriving here. It’s not easy for them to make it all the way to my lair with their own power.”

In truth, Arterion could sense the presence of any intruder the moment they set foot in this land.

But it was something he had left behind out of courtesy for official envoys.

Having given the explanation, Arterion spread his massive wings once more and looked down at the group as he spoke.

“From this moment on, your training will begin.”

At those words, the group wore bewildered expressions.

They had known they’d be training but they hadn’t expected things to start so abruptly.

“Skill is not measured by words. Show me yourselves.”

Arterion tilted his head toward the sky and let out a thunderous roar.

Kwoooooooooh!

The sound that shook the heavens and earth wasn’t just a roar.

It spread like a ritual, or perhaps a signal.

The magic he released coiled around the land and burrowed into the darkness beyond the snowy mountains.

The air trembled, and an echo from the distant snowfields reverberated back through the group’s bodies.

Arterion smiled as he spoke.

“This is both my lesson and your trial. From now on, this land is your battlefield.”

Even before his words finished, Arterion soared into the sky in a single bound.

At the same time, Deneb and several mercenaries began to float upward with him.

“Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Deneb and the mercenaries were startled.

Their bodies, now lifted into the air, were soon trapped inside a semi-transparent sphere.

“Deneb!”

Julien immediately leapt to rescue Deneb.

Kwaang!

But his body slammed into an invisible barrier and was violently thrown back.

Julien clenched his teeth and tried to leap again, but Arterion looked at him and spoke.

“The tale of an evil dragon kidnapping a princess, and a hero setting out to rescue her—that’s such an old and amusing story. I hope you all manage to reach my lair safely. But if you don’t and end up dying instead…”

Arterion’s gaze turned to the mercenaries floating in the air.

“…then everyone except the Saintess will be tossed to my guardians as food.”

The mercenaries suspended in the air began to tremble.

It seemed Arterion had kept his word about excluding them from the ‘training,’ but no one felt thankful in the slightest.

Soon, the dragon’s massive silhouette slowly vanished into the white blizzard.

A moment of silence passed.

But before long, a deep rumble began to spread outward from beneath the ground.

Thoom… Thoom…

Moments later, massive figures emerged, parting the white mist.

Krooooh!

They were ice trolls, covered in thick white fur.

Their eyes were bloodshot red, and the wooden clubs they wielded were thickly coated with ice.

And following them, beasts began to emerge from between the snow and wind like hunters.

Grrrrrrr…

A pack of ice wolves growled as they circled the group.

White fur, crimson eyes, and fangs laced with frigid energy—each one looked like living ice.

Their size was also no joke—each one could rival a bison.

“Hah…”

Ghislain made a dumbfounded face.

There were hundreds of those monsters bearing down on them.

And they would keep coming—relentlessly.

Those things were completely driven mad by the dragon’s fear.

Arterion’s method of teaching was absurd beyond imagination.

But it made sense. From his point of view, it didn’t matter if Ghislain’s group died.

If they survived, they’d undoubtedly become stronger. In that sense, it was an efficient approach.

“Yeah, it’s gotta be at least this bad if you want to get stronger, faster.”

Ghislain grinned and began loosening up his body.

Arterion might not have known, but Ghislain truly enjoyed this kind of training.

There was just one thing that felt a bit off.

“We’re missing one person…”

Ghislain turned around with a conflicted look.

“Si-Sir Osval! I don’t understand what’s happening! He should have taken me too!”

Osval was trembling with a pale face.

Truth be told, Osval should’ve gone too but Arterion had simply forgotten about him.

Seeing Osval looking as if the world had ended, Ghislain let out a faint chuckle.

‘Guess that means he thinks the guy’s stronger than he looks.’

Though Arterion had selected people in a broad sweep, Ghislain had also planned to exclude Osval.

But Arterion had left only Osval behind and taken the rest of the group.

Which meant, in Arterion’s eyes, Osval was slightly stronger than the other mercenaries.

All the effort Ghislain had put into drilling him had paid off.

Osval really had improved quite a bit since they first met.

Ghislain gave Osval a thumbs-up, then turned to the group and said,

“Everyone ready?”

Julien, Kyle, Ereneth, Lionel, and Marika all nodded.

They all looked tense.

Now they had to cut through this brutal environment and all the monsters to reach the dragon’s lair.

But there was no fear in them.

They had crossed countless deadly lines before.

Their faces were filled with a firm resolve to survive this trial as well.

Julien’s gaze, especially, burned with such intensity it felt like he might set the entire Land of Extreme Cold ablaze.

Ghislain looked up at the sky.

“If we flew, maybe we could get there a bit easier.”

Kaaaaaaaah!

But before he could even finish his sentence, a swarm of monsters descended from the sky.

Snow wyverns breathed frost from their mouths as they circled above the group.

Seeing this, Ghislain let out a dry laugh.

“Guess he’s not gonna let us take the easy way, huh?”

In the end, they’d have to push through it all with brute force.

Ghislain shook the snow off his cloak a few times and rolled his shoulders.

“The goal this time is simple—make it to the dragon’s lair without dying. Easy, right?”

Kyle frowned and gripped his sword tightly.

“Easy? According to who, exactly?”

At that, the others also took up stances, laughing.

As always, traveling with Ghislain was beyond anything they could have imagined.

When they’d asked for a bit of training, who could’ve imagined it would turn into something this outrageous?

Still, it wasn’t so bad.

They could all feel it—each time they endured these grueling trials, they grew stronger at a pace no one else could match.

Ghislain lowered his stance and began drawing out his mana.

Azure energy flowed into his staff like light.

“Let’s begin.”

Kwaaaaaaang!

Ghislain shot forward like lightning and smashed the leading ice troll.

At the same time, the others moved in their assigned directions.

And so, in the Land of Extreme Cold…

The Julien Mercenary Corps’ life-or-death training began.

* * *

When he first heard that a Sacred Stone had been obtained, the Pope couldn’t contain his excitement.

“They actually… actually retrieved a Sacred Stone…”

Truth be told, he hadn’t held high expectations for the Julien Mercenary Corps.

He’d only placed a faint hope in them because they had resolved multiple issues in various kingdoms without a single failure.

After all, every diplomatic envoy had failed, and war had become the only remaining option.

But then, a mere mercenary corps had retrieved a Sacred Stone.

And not only that—they had even managed to repel an invasion from the Salvation Church.

The joy was immense.

But alongside that joy came a rising sense of displeasure.

“Ilaniel… how dare you…”

It was said that Ilaniel, the Great Chieftain of the Elves, had handed the Sacred Stone to a low-ranking priestess.

And that she had publicly declared that no one would be able to take it from her.

That was no different than a direct message to the Pope himself.

The Sacred Stone was a holy relic that only he, as the representative of God, had the right to possess.

“To dare deny my authority…”

Rage surged within him but he couldn’t afford to go to war with the Elves over this.

Regardless, the Pope wanted to get his hands on the Sacred Stone as soon as possible.

But for now, he had to be patient.

“Not yet… I need more of them.”

This was the first success. Only now had the path begun to seem possible.

So, he couldn’t risk provoking the Julien Mercenary Corps.

Still, the unease remained.

They couldn’t afford to lose the Sacred Stone due to a surprise attack from the Salvation Church or any other reason.

He couldn’t dispatch troops either—if the Holy Empire’s army appeared, the situation would be no different from when the envoy missions had failed.

Worse, it might provoke the dwarves or cause further instability.

So, the Pope quietly gave a new order.

“Find the most skilled assassination group capable of moving quickly. Have them locate the Julien Mercenary Corps and protect them from the shadows. Also, order them to report every single movement the group makes.”

He had already sent Lionel with them but Lionel was only one man.

The Pope didn’t believe Lionel alone could protect the Julien Mercenary Corps or safeguard the Sacred Stone.

Moreover, who knew how much Lionel might have been influenced by traveling with them?

That was why he sent the assassination group—as a more certain contingency.

Of course, the assassins were merely the first layer of surveillance.

He could never entrust such a critical task solely to mere killers.

“Send the Intelligence Unit along with them. Have them shadow the Julien Mercenary Corps discreetly.”

Even the Holy Empire’s Intelligence Unit alone wouldn’t be enough.

The Julien Mercenary Corps must safely complete their mission and return to the Holy Empire.

“Inform all kingdoms. Tell them to prepare their armies so they can immediately deploy to support the Julien Mercenary Corps if they’re in danger.”

Now, all the kingdoms would begin moving to protect the Julien Mercenary Corps.

The Pope intended to safeguard the Sacred Stone with absolute thoroughness.

He had no doubt that it would eventually fall into his hands.

But that certainty was shattered by a piece of unexpected news.

“The Saintess? A Saintess, you say?”

The title of Saintess was a role appointed solely by the Pope himself.

It had always been that way.

Yet now, a “real” Saintess had supposedly appeared—demonstrating the miracle of the Goddess in front of everyone.

At first, he thought Lionel had misunderstood.

But before long, King Grondal of the Dwarves personally sent a letter.

“Congratulations on the Saintess’s emergence? That low-ranking priestess is the rightful bearer of the Sacred Stone?”

Retrieving the Dwarves’ Sacred Stone was certainly a joyous event.

But the fact that someone else—not him—was recognized as its rightful owner was intolerable.

“Even you, Grondal…”

Even the King of the Dwarves had identified a lowly priestess as the owner of the Sacred Stone.

Then what did that make himself, The Pope?

Was he nothing more than a prop in the ceremony to ‘create’ a Saintess?

“I won’t accept this.”

The Pope seethed with fury.

He wanted to capture and kill the Julien Mercenary Corps right then and there.

“A Saintess? A Saintess?! Who dares claim someone is a Saintess without my approval?!”

A Saintess had emerged without his blessing.

And yet many were now saying they had witnessed the miracle of the Goddess firsthand.

If it were true, then the Saintess could be treated as equal or perhaps even superior—to the Pope.

He could not allow it.

She had to die.

Only then could the Pope raise his own authority and unify mankind.

“The Sacred Stone is mine. I am the one who must wield it and bring an end to this long, long war.”

The Pope murmured that sentence repeatedly, lips trembling.

He had been raised from childhood as God’s chosen envoy.

He believed with all his heart that he was the savior prophesied to end the war against the Demonic Abyss.

The immense divine power he possessed, granted by the Goddess, was proof.

No one ever denied the power he wielded.

And now, an unforeseen obstacle had appeared.

The Pope immediately issued a new command.

“Continue to guard and monitor them until the last Sacred Stone is retrieved. And if they succeed in obtaining the final one…”

Clutching his temples from a sudden spike of pain, the Pope spoke coldly.

“Kill the Julien Mercenary Corps and the false Saintess. Retrieve the Sacred Stones.”

This order was swiftly delivered to the envoys and armies stationed across the kingdoms and to Darents, who was tracking the Julien Mercenary Corps from the closest distance.

Now that the Demonic Abyss was on the move, not even a dragon could hinder his path.

If the Elves or Dwarves resisted, he intended to crush them with force.

So long as the Sacred Stones were secured, humanity alone could win the war against the Demonic Abyss.

From that day forward, the Pope was plagued by constant headaches born of murderous rage, fury, and anxiety.

“Grrrrr…”

And it wasn’t just headaches.

The strange phenomena he had long suppressed with divine power had returned.

[$%&*#@$%!%^$$#]

A whispering voice—unintelligible, yet ominous enough to pierce his very bones.

That voice had followed him since childhood.

It was precisely because of that phenomenon that he could never leave the Grand Temple, no matter how much he wanted to act personally.

If he left the barrier sustained by immense divine power, he would be swallowed by that whisper.

The voice was too powerful to suppress with his own strength alone.

That was why he needed the Sacred Stones.

To use their power to escape this curse.

To obtain the Goddess’s strength, destroy the Demonic Abyss, and save the world.

That was the reason he existed.

He sincerely believed this.

“I… shall save the world… Only I can do this… Therefore… the false Saintess must die…”

The Pope muttered the same words over and over as he prayed—

Wishing with all his heart that his unwavering conviction would not be tainted by evil