The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations

Chapter 592: It Seems to Be Helping Me (2)
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Ghislain allowed the divine energy flooding into his body to run its course. It didn’t seem like it would harm him.

The divine energy spread throughout his body, coursing as if inspecting every part of it, before gathering in his head.

— “What the—! What is this!?”

The voice of Dark screamed from within Ghislain’s consciousness. Surprisingly, the divine energy had penetrated even his inner awareness.

Under normal circumstances, Ghislain might have tried to block it, but he allowed even this to proceed unhindered.

“Huh...”

He exhaled in amazement. The divine energy permeated his consciousness, settling in as naturally as if it had always been part of him.

He suddenly understood how priests handled and wielded divine energy.

“Can I... use this?”

Focusing his will, he attempted to activate the energy.

While he now understood how it interacted with his body, it refused to manifest. It stayed dormant, as if stubbornly insisting that it wasn’t meant to be used at the moment.

“Hmm, that’s a bit disappointing.”

Still, it was remarkable.

Though he couldn’t use it, he now possessed divine energy akin to that of a priest. This development followed his achievement of seeing the flow ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) of the world and fully accepting the visions of his dreams.

“It feels like the Saintess is helping me.”

The dream had given him the foundation for advancement, and now even divine energy had been bestowed upon him. Such assistance wasn’t offered without reason.

“Is it because of Gatros? Or their king?”

This likely meant there were still enemies he needed to face.

Even so, Ghislain didn’t feel anxious. There was no point worrying about unknown adversaries. Whatever challenge lay ahead, he was confident in his ability to overcome it.

With the insights gained from the dream, he was certain he could grow even stronger.

As he fiddled with the necklace that had helped him, he murmured to himself.

“Is this thing useless now?”

Examining it, the necklace now seemed like an ordinary piece of jewelry. The divine energy that had once resided within it had seemingly transferred into his body.

Even so, he had no intention of discarding it. Who knew when it might prove useful again? Keeping it close seemed like the safest bet.

While Ghislain was scrutinizing the necklace, the door burst open, and Claude stormed in.

“Lord Ghislain! We’ve got a problem!”

“What is it?”

Claude hesitated, looking him over from head to toe before mumbling to himself.

“What’s this? Why does he feel... different? Something’s off. Did you eat something strange?”

“...”

“I could swear you’re giving off a holy aura. That doesn’t make sense—you’re the furthest thing from holy. Am I imagining things?”

“...”

“Ha, this is weird. Why has your entire vibe changed? Did you repent for your terrible personality or something? Or is there something wrong with your body?”

“...”

After a moment of deep thought, Claude clapped his hands together as if he’d figured it out.

“I got it! You haven’t been able to fight any wars lately, so you’ve been holding it all in! It’s made you sick! Oh, who’s going to fix that awful personality of yours?”

“...”

Ghislain nodded slowly, amused. Despite his nonsense, Claude’s instincts were sharp. He could sense the subtle changes Ghislain had undergone.

And admittedly, Ghislain had been taking it easy lately.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

A minor commotion erupted in the corner of the room but quickly settled down. Claude, now sporting a fresh bruise over his eye, rubbed it as he spoke.

“The Rift with restricted mana flow... it’s grown larger.”

“What? The Rift grew?”

“Yes. We’re reinforcing the magic circles for now, but we don’t know the cause yet. We’re also checking the other Rifts.”

“Hm...”

Ghislain furrowed his brow, crossing his arms.

Normally, Rifts expanded by absorbing surrounding energy. This allowed more Rift creatures to emerge and, eventually, massive beasts to appear.

That’s how it had worked in his previous life. The failure to stop them early on had led to terrifying creatures emerging.

But this time was supposed to be different. Equidema had been eliminated, and its domain eradicated. The flow of energy into the Rift had been blocked.

While they hadn’t fully closed the Rift, they had successfully halted its expansion. This method had worked in his past life.

Yet despite this, the Rift was growing.

‘What’s different from my previous life?’

Deep in thought, Ghislain tried to pinpoint the cause.

After a while, he realized a significant difference.

‘Back then, the Rifts had already grown unchecked.’

Having failed to contain them early on, the Rifts had expanded uncontrollably. Gigantic beasts known as Rift Lords had emerged everywhere, and Rift creatures poured out endlessly.

This forced humanity into grueling battles.

‘I need to confirm this.’

A hypothesis began to form. He needed to examine the Rift personally to understand the differences.

“I’ll have to see it for myself. Let’s go.”

Ghislain quickly gathered a small force and headed toward the nearest Rift.

No one lived near the Rifts anymore. The threat of monsters emerging at any moment had driven people to relocate far away.

Around the pulsating, otherworldly hole, numerous magic circles and defensive structures had been erected. Several mages were stationed there, monitoring the Rift and analyzing the flow of mana.

By isolating the surrounding energy, they were preventing the Rift from growing larger.

“Hmm...”

Sure enough, the Rift had grown slightly larger than before.

This indicated that it was expanding independently of the surrounding energy.

‘It seems this alone isn’t enough.’

Ghislain had done everything he knew to block the flow of energy around the Rift. But that only suppressed its growth; it didn’t shrink it.

In his previous life, Jerome and other mages had worked on a separate method to reduce the size of Rifts. Ghislain didn’t know the details, so he had only been using temporary measures.

Still, he hadn’t expected the Rift to grow like this.

‘The Rift itself seems to have an inherent force driving its expansion.’

He didn’t know where it was drawing energy from, but it seemed that external energy only accelerated the process.

In his past life, the Rifts had already expanded so much that even mages didn’t fully understand their mechanics.

“Whew...”

Sighing, Ghislain surveyed the Rift. It was likely that the other Rifts were also growing, albeit slowly enough to escape notice.

For now, the Rifts weren’t large enough to produce Rift Lords. But at this rate, it was only a matter of time.

“Gather the mages. We need to prioritize researching ways to suppress the Rifts.”

The mages played a vital role in maintaining stability. Their magic was indispensable in construction and reinforcement.

But more urgent than that was halting the Rifts’ expansion. Even if the process was slow, leaving it unchecked would inevitably lead to disaster.

“At least we have Jerome.”

Thanks to the war’s conclusion, Jerome had begun his Rift research earlier than in the previous life.

He had achieved some results back then, so there was hope that this time they could prevent the Rifts’ expansion entirely.

The news spread quickly. Since the Allied Forces included nobles from various kingdoms, dissemination was easy.

Everyone understood the dangers of the Rifts. No one opposed the initiative.

Thus, high-circle mages from across the continent began to focus on researching ways to suppress the Rifts.

***

In one of Grimwell Kingdom's hidden retreats, the Duke of Reinster sat anxiously, awaiting the results of the war.

In front of him, a man lounged comfortably, sipping wine with a relaxed demeanor.

The Duke turned to the man and asked, “Are you not concerned, Your Grace?”

“About what?” the man responded nonchalantly.

“If we lose this war, we will never recover. We have no remaining forces,” the Duke said, his voice tinged with desperation.

“What good will worrying do? All we can do is trust those we sent to fight,” the man replied, his smile calm and composed.

The man was none other than Ernheart, who had fled from Ruthania and now resided with the Duke.

Unlike the fidgety Duke, Ernheart seemed entirely unbothered, as if the outcome didn’t matter to him at all.

“Hmm,” the Duke cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. Seeing Ernheart’s nonchalance made him feel even more insignificant for his own constant fretting.

He tried to maintain an air of composure, but inside, he was consumed by anxiety.

Perhaps sensing the awkward tension, Ernheart smiled faintly and asked, “What will you do if you win, Your Grace?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ll seize control of the continent and rule it as an empire!” the Duke declared, his eyes gleaming with ambition.

It was his dream to dominate the continent and establish a great empire. Until recently, he had been confident it was within reach, as everything had been going according to plan.

That is, until Duke Fenris appeared.

The Duke continued, his tone carrying a hint of reproach.

“If you had taken Ruthania quickly, things would have gone more smoothly. Fenris wouldn’t have been able to grow into such a threat.”

“Hmm... Quite so. Duke Fenris is indeed a fascinating individual,” Ernheart replied, unfazed by the Duke’s criticism. His indifferent expression remained unchanged, as though such matters were trivial.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion in his gaze; instead, a subtle smile played on his lips.

The Duke found Ernheart’s attitude intolerable.

‘Tsk. How can he remain so composed after his failures? He should’ve acted decisively from the start!’

To the Duke, both Duke Delphine and Gatros were frustrating figures. They had cowered in fear of the so-called “Shadow Knights” for far too long, hiding in the shadows.

Even after that, they restrained internal conflicts to minimize damage.

The Duke couldn’t comprehend why they were so obsessed with the Forest of Beasts, nor could he forgive their inaction.

A series of misfortunes had compounded their failures.

The brilliant Marquis Branford had opposed the Ducal faction, and one of the lords they had nurtured had turned against them.

All of these factors culminated in the emergence of the monster known as Duke Fenris.

‘Tsk. If it weren’t for Gatros, I wouldn’t have to tolerate Ernheart’s presence. He’s nothing but a fallen noble.’

The Duke’s dislike for Ernheart ran deep. If not for Gatros’s importance to their cause, he would never have kept Ernheart around.

Sensing the Duke’s discontent, Ernheart asked another question.

“What will happen if the King of the Salvation Order is found? After all, there can’t be two kings, can there?”

“That would be no issue,” the Duke replied confidently. “The King would serve as a spiritual leader for our Order. Naturally, I would rule the secular world as its supreme sovereign.”

In the Duke’s mind, the King of the Salvation Order was nothing more than a symbolic figure akin to a saint.

Ernheart simply nodded without further comment. It was clear the Duke had no idea what the King’s role truly entailed.

The two continued exchanging meaningless small talk as they awaited news from the battlefield.

And then—

BOOOOM!

The room was suddenly engulfed in shadows as a wounded Gatros appeared, staggering into the space.

“Cough!”

Blood spilled from Gatros’s mouth as he struggled to stand, his battered state a testament to a fierce battle.

The Duke sprang to his feet in alarm.

“What is this?! What happened to the war?”

Seeing Gatros in such a state meant the situation was dire. The Duke’s voice trembled with dread.

“Speak! What happened? Tell me!”

Unlike the panicked Duke, Ernheart remained seated, his expression as calm as ever.

Gatros looked at them both, his exhaustion evident, before he finally managed to speak.

“The war... is lost. You must flee immediately.”

“What? Lost?!”

The Duke’s face turned deathly pale. His army, the force he had hoped would grant him dominion over the continent, was gone.

Even his elite White Knights, his personal guard, were no more. Overwhelmed by despair, the Duke collapsed into his chair.

“H-how could this happen...? What are we supposed to do now...?”

With the armies defeated, the Duke—now branded a traitor—had no means of survival left.

From behind him, Ernheart’s languid voice broke the silence.

“So, it’s come to this. Even with all that power, you couldn’t stand against Duke Fenris. My old rival has grown formidable indeed.”

The Duke, enraged by Ernheart’s indifferent tone, snapped.

“This is your fault! If you had handled things properly in Ruthania, none of this would have happened!”

“Quite so. A shame, really,” Ernheart replied, unperturbed.

“How dare you act so casual! Don’t you realize we’re as good as dead?!”

“Time,” Ernheart said softly.

“What?”

“Time will resolve all problems. That’s the natural order of things.”

“Shut up! How long will you spout such nonsense? Take responsibility for this mess!”

The Duke, having lost all composure, needed someone to blame. Ernheart became the target of his fury.

Ernheart, unfazed, stared at the frenzied Duke. Then, he raised a hand and gestured toward someone behind him.

“We won’t be needing him any longer. He’ll only get in the way. Remove him.”

“Yes, sir,” said a frail-looking old man who stepped forward.

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The old man was the head steward of the Delphine Ducal House, overseeing its retainers. Before the fall of their stronghold, he had preemptively secured valuables and fled.

The Duke, his eyes bloodshot with anger, screamed, “You insolent wretch! Gatros! Kill him now!”

In an instant, the old man vanished.

Thunk!

“Urk...”

When he reappeared, he was in front of the Duke, plunging a dagger into his heart.

The Duke turned his head in disbelief, looking at Gatros.

But Gatros stood silently, his face grim. Even the remaining knights showed no intention of moving.

The Duke finally realized the truth.

“You... You’ve used me... all of you...”

His voice faltered as he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Ernheart, sipping his wine, watched the body fall. After a moment, he stood.

“A pity. Had we won the war, he might’ve made a fine ally.”

The Duke’s forces had included many exceptional individuals. Victory would have made Ernheart’s goals much easier to achieve.

But failure meant that plan was no longer viable. Now, he would have to rely on the natural order of things.

“Pursuers will be everywhere soon. Let’s disappear for a while.”

With that, Ernheart and Gatros left Grimwell Kingdom.

A few days into their covert journey, Ernheart suddenly looked down at his hand.

“Hm... Already?”

A different power coursed through him now. The energy spreading across the world had grown stronger.

It was a force only he and a select few could sense.

Whoosh.

Black energy flickered to life around his hand.

The power he had lost so long ago was returning.

This also meant that the force interfering with the world’s providence—the power of the "King"—was growing stronger.

Ernheart smiled.

“The Rift that Duke Fenris worked so hard to suppress must have grown a little larger by now.”

Such was the natural order of things.

No matter how desperately Duke Fenris struggled to stop them, what was destined to happen would come to pass.

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