The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 542: This Moment Alone (2)

Helgenique's neck was completely severed, his head flying sideways.

And Ghislain, who had swung the sword—

“Urgh!”

Crack! Thud! Boom!

A grotesque sound of something twisting and bursting followed as Ghislain was flung backward, losing his grip on the sword.

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Even for a fleeting moment, his body had failed to endure the overwhelming power, resulting in severe strain.

“Ghislain.”

Julien quickly moved back to catch him. Blood surged from Ghislain’s mouth, spilling over uncontrollably.

“Did we... get him?”

Lowering Ghislain gently to the ground, Julien turned his gaze.

“He’s... still alive. Barely.”

Helgenique’s body thrashed about, caught in a storm of chaotic energy. Without a head, it moved erratically, resembling a Dullahan.

The body stumbled, seeking its head, which lay far away, grotesquely displaced.

“Y-you bastards...”

Even separated from its body, Helgenique’s head spoke. An absurd, impossible sight—but one that neither Ghislain nor Julien found surprising.

They understood why this was possible, having long been aware of Helgenique’s unnatural constitution.

However, without its connection to the body’s mana source, something began to shift.

The ever-present darkness veiling Helgenique’s face began to fade.

“.......”

What emerged was horrifying—a ghastly visage resembling a patchwork corpse, sickly blue-green and stitched together in places.

Even Jerome, now watching from a distance, was left speechless despite his prior knowledge. Seeing it with their own eyes was far more gruesome than imagined.

“No wonder he wouldn’t die, no matter how many times we struck him.”

Ghislain, who had learned the truth about Helgenique’s body in his previous life, knew the secret well.

As a necromancer, Helgenique had conducted countless experiments, eventually transferring his soul into a chimera body.

Half-corpse, half-living creature, his body was sustained largely by mana, which replaced much of his blood and organs.

This knowledge had come from Parniel, who had fought Helgenique extensively in the past.

Before this battle, Ghislain had shared this information with his allies, as usual, with a vague excuse about how he’d learned it.

Helgenique’s grotesque lips parted to speak.

“To think... to think this is how it ends for me...”

With his head severed, he had lost control of his body. His soul resided in the head, while his mana source lay in the heart.

Although he could potentially survive if the head were reattached, his foes would never allow that to happen.

“This must be cleaned up.”

Julien strode forward, gripping Helgenique’s thrashing body before hurling it far into the distance.

Sizzle!

Helgenique’s already shattered body, pierced through the heart and riddled with wounds, was reaching its end.

Without the head to regulate and channel the mana, the energy within began to spiral out of control.

One by one, parts of the body exploded, the ruptures accelerating with time.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

With every burst, energy sprayed into the air. Moments later—

BOOOOM!

Helgenique’s body detonated in a massive explosion, scattering into countless pieces. The lingering energy dispersed harmlessly into the void.

The explosion was powerful, but it caused little harm to the surviving group. Julien’s earlier throw had ensured they were well out of range, and most of the energy had already dissipated.

Step. Step.

Julien approached Helgenique’s head, now the only remaining fragment of the necromancer.

Though Julien was battered and injured, he was the only one still capable of moving.

Helgenique’s rotted black eyes rolled as he spoke.

“You... you will... pay for this...”

Deprived of its mana source, the head {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} could barely muster enough power to speak. Even maintaining consciousness required the last remnants of its energy.

Julien stared at the head expressionlessly. Without a word, he slowly raised his foot.

“......”

And with no further ceremony, he crushed it underfoot.

Crunch!

Helgenique’s head shattered pitifully.

Without his mana to tether it, his soul had no means to remain in the mortal plane. As dictated by the laws of the world, it was forcibly dragged into the River of the Dead.

A faint, anguished scream echoed in the void, as if from a distant realm.

The one who had slaughtered countless souls and desecrated them for his own gain met his ultimate fate.

Jerome collapsed to the ground, exhaling a sigh of relief as he witnessed the end.

“Finally... what a monster.”

The sheer difficulty of the battle had been unbearable. Just recalling the ordeal of the past few days sent shivers down his spine.

Julien glanced at the fallen Ghislain and Jerome, asking curtly, “Are you alright?”

“Of course. I’m fine,” Ghislain replied, flashing a thumbs-up with a cheeky grin.

Seeing this, Jerome mimicked the gesture with an equally wide grin.

“......”

Julien watched them for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his usually stoic face.

“Hey, did you just smile?” Ghislain asked, surprised.

Julien’s expression returned to its usual impassive state.

“I did not.”

“You totally did!”

“I did not.”

Ignoring the banter, Julien extended a hand to the fallen Ghislain. Ghislain grasped it, pulling himself to his feet.

He then helped Jerome up, supporting the two weakened men as they leaned against him.

As they walked, Ghislain chuckled.

“Smiling is good for you. Why so serious all the time?”

“......”

Jerome chimed in with enthusiasm, “Exactly! A cheerful life is a longer life. Back at the mage tower, the elders always said—”

“You sound like a magical Claude. Or maybe a mix of Claude and Alfoy? Though, luckily, you’re not as unbearable as Claude. If someone like that got stronger and came back, it’d be a disaster,” Ghislain teased.

Jerome tilted his head curiously.

“Who’s Claude?”

“Oh, just someone. By the way, how about we drop the formalities? No need for stiff politeness between comrades.”

“Can we? You’re a duke after all...”

“I treat people based on their skills, not titles. It’s easier being friends. Let’s get along.”

“Sure... I’d like that,” Jerome replied with a sheepish grin. He much preferred a relaxed camaraderie to rigid formality.

Though Ghislain’s suggestion was partly to keep him at ease, Jerome couldn’t read too deeply into it.

Ghislain turned to Julien.

“What do you think? Sounds good, right? You don’t have many friends. Let’s all get along.”

Jerome added eagerly, “I can be your friend! I’ve been fine without any until now, but having one wouldn’t hurt...”

“Do as you please.”

Julien dismissed them with indifference, but a small shift stirred in his heart.

...Not bad.

Since childhood, Julien had struggled to connect with others. Even after entering the world, people kept their distance, intimidated by his presence.

Not that he minded—he commanded loyalty and respect, uniting people to save others.

But he’d never had anyone to truly rely on, to share his burdens.

He had always fought alone, even in the company of others.

And so, he had carried his solitude, along with the weight of responsibility.

But now...

“Lord Ghislain!”

“Young Master!”

Gillain and Belinda rushed over, followed by the mobile corps, who had been battling the undead.

These warriors, with their overwhelming combat prowess, had completely eradicated the horde of corpses.

Belinda, wasting no time, took Ghislain from Julien’s grasp and supported him as she spoke.

“Are you alright? Seriously, why do you push yourself so hard? If you let him get away, you could’ve just caught him later!”

“We got him in the end. That’s what matters. Didn’t I say we’d pull it off together?”

“Parniel and that mage got involved halfway through, too.”

“That was just an adjustment to the plan.”

“Agh, honestly, if you’d just shut up, maybe you wouldn’t be so annoying,” Belinda retorted, exasperated, causing the group to erupt in laughter.

No one truly thought Ghislain would fail. After all, their lord’s plans always worked.

Gillain raised his voice triumphantly.

“We won!”

“Wooooo!”

“Hey, why isn’t my aura blade coming out yet?”

“Big brother, I want to go home! I’m a princess, you know! A princess!”

“Woohoo! Destruction princess! Destruction princess!”

Cheers and chatter mingled into a cacophony of noise, the scene transforming into something akin to a bustling marketplace.

This unrestrained atmosphere was characteristic of the Fenris mobile corps.

Julien silently observed the lively scene. Jerome nudged him in the side with his elbow.

“The atmosphere here is great, isn’t it? I love how free and casual everyone is. It’s like we’re all friends. The Duke of Fenris is really down-to-earth.”

“......”

Jerome genuinely enjoyed his time with his new companions.

They were strong, formidable individuals, just like him. Moreover, they shared his mission to destroy the Salvation Order and save people. How could he not enjoy himself?

When Julien remained silent, Jerome hesitated before speaking again, his tone awkward.

“You’re pretty strong yourself. Let’s get along well from now on—we’re friends now, after all.”

“......”

“...Not sure what I did, but sorry if I offended you.”

Jerome’s new friend was exceptionally taciturn.

Julien, lost in thought, mulled over the word friend.

Had there ever been anyone he could call a friend?

Not once.

No one had ever approached him, and he had never reached out to anyone.

But here, things were a little different.

Ghislain considered him a friend. His subordinates approached Julien without hesitation, disregarding his title and aloof nature.

And they were all strong. Julien felt he could trust them on the battlefield, rely on them to watch his back. For the first time, he thought he might be able to set down some of the weight he carried.

Fighting Helgenique had been a new experience for him. It was the first time he had faced such a powerful enemy with allies by his side.

The words Ghislain and Jerome had casually thrown out echoed in his mind.

Friend.

In just a few days, he had gained more friends than ever before, even if it hadn’t been his intention.

Julien continued to watch Ghislain and the others chatter animatedly. Beside him, Jerome kept sneaking glances at his expression.

“......”

Normally, Julien would have ignored it all.

He was accustomed to solitude and had no desire to form attachments.

The pain he had experienced in his childhood was enough for a lifetime.

But at this moment—

“...Fine. Let’s get along.”

He wanted to say the same words as them.

As everyone reveled in their victory and prepared to head back, far away, lying on the ground, was Parniel.

“Urgh... those damned brats...”

Grinding her teeth, she used her massive mace as a staff to push herself upright.

If she’d been able to fight from a distance, she wouldn’t have had to push herself so hard that she nearly fainted.

But thanks to those two running back toward her, she’d been forced to shield them.

“Fenris, that bastard... well, that’s just the kind of person he is.”

He was always unpredictable, so she could let it slide. But Julien? She hadn’t expected that from him.

It seemed like anyone who hung around Fenris ended up becoming just as unpredictable.

Clearly, no one in this world could be trusted. Friends, allies—none of it mattered.

The only things she could rely on were herself and her faith in God.

Parniel had yet to realize that her newfound distrust of humanity was just another side effect of associating with Ghislain.

For now, she resigned herself to her deepening cynicism and growing faith.

***

“It’s done! A success!”

Gatros’s face lit up with euphoric delight.

The Allied Forces were currently advancing toward the Kingdom of Atrodé.

However, with troops scattered across the continent, it was inevitable that it would take time for everyone to gather.

In truth, it didn’t matter if the entire Allied Forces assembled. All they needed was enough time to seize the Kingdom of Grimwell.

The real fear wasn’t the Allied Forces themselves.

“Are you certain the Duke of Fenris and his main force have moved?”

“Yes, sir. The mobile corps moved first to deal with Helgenique. They won’t be able to assist Grimwell in time.”

The Ruthania army, specifically the Duke of Fenris and his elite mobile corps, was their most formidable opponent.

With them out of the picture, taking Grimwell would be no challenge.

“Heh, even those fools understand that choosing one target means abandoning another.”

From the outset, the Allied Forces hadn’t expected to save every nation or person. Such a feat was simply impossible.

For them, Helgenique’s rampage posed the greater threat, leaving them no choice but to prioritize him.

This alignment of interests had allowed the Salvation Order to buy themselves a precious window of time.

“To think Helgenique could accomplish so much.”

It was remarkable. Most of the life orbs they had created had been expended, but it had been worth the gamble.

The Duke of Fenris’s mobile corps, which had crushed them in the Kingdom of Ruthania, was formidable to the point of dread.

Still, now that the corps had moved elsewhere, it was time for Gatros’s forces to act swiftly.

“Send out all the troops ready for deployment. The target is the Kingdom of Grimwell.”

The revolutionaries from across the continent had already joined their ranks, as well as rebels from nearby regions.

The Duke of Reinster’s army was powerful, rivaling the forces of many kingdoms, and the majority of the Salvation Order’s priests were also present.

With such a force advancing, there was no way Grimwell could hold out.

“Just a little longer. Once we obtain the sacred artifact and awaken our king...”

Gatros’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light.

“...the world will soon face His wrath.”