The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 586: Annihilate the Enemy (3)

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The Fenris Task Force launched their charge.

Led by Ghislain, with his crimson spear in hand, the Fenris Task Force surged forward like a living torrent of steel, crashing toward the Atrodé army.

The sight was majestic, like a vivid painting come to life. Anyone witnessing it would have been struck with awe.

“Waaaahhhhh!”

The Ruthania forces, led by Gillian and Tenant, roared as they charged forward. Simultaneously, the fortress troops burst out in unison.

The Atrodé army, surrounded on all sides, was at a complete loss. Their once-confident bravado had vanished.

Gatros, overcome with rage, shouted at Count Vipenvelt.

“What are we to do?”

“......”

“Count! Speak quickly!”

Vipenvelt, however, simply stared at the advancing forces.

There was nothing to be done. In this situation, no strategy, no tactic, no reinforcement could save them.

“It’s over,” he muttered.

Those nearby—commanders and aides—wore expressions of utter despair. Even Vipenvelt, the Atrodé army’s greatest strategist, had resigned himself to defeat.

Gatros, his face twisted in anger, pressed further.

“Are you truly saying there’s no way? I’ll use that power again! If we can just hold out until reinforcements arrive, we can survive! Gather everyone! Prepare now!”

Gatros barked orders at the priests. Despite their barely recovered energy, he intended to make one last stand.

But Vipenvelt shook his head.

“...Our reinforcements have likely already fallen.”

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“That’s absurd! How could they have fallen so quickly?”

“......”

Vipenvelt didn’t bother explaining further.

They had waited anxiously for reinforcements, but none had ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) come.

While the Third Corps might have been moving independently, the Second Corps, led by Aiden, and the Fourth Corps, under Count Zyrus, should have arrived long ago.

The scattered Ruthania forces had all regrouped, yet there was no sign of Atrodé reinforcements—not even a single messenger.

There was only one conclusion to be drawn.

The Second and Fourth Corps had been annihilated.

Gatros, unable to suppress his fury, roared.

“Argh! Why?! Why has the heavens forsaken me?!”

Victory had once been within his grasp. But at some point, everything had started to unravel.

For decades, Gatros had endured and prepared, amassing enough power to sweep across the continent. He had been so close to achieving everything he desired.

However, the failure at the Ruthania Kingdom had marked the beginning of the end. The life-or-death gambit of this war had also failed. The forces he had spent a lifetime assembling had been utterly destroyed.

All that remained were scattered rebels on the continent’s fringes and a handful of priests. They, too, would soon be hunted down.

And all of this—every bit of it—was due to one man.

“Ghislain!”

Dark energy erupted from Gatros’s body, coursing violently outward. His mind was consumed by rage, leaving no room for reason.

Even if he died here, he vowed to drag that man down with him.

The other priests, sensing his resolve, released what little energy they had left, pooling it with Gatros’s to create a final, desperate stand.

BOOM!

Meanwhile, explosions erupted throughout the Atrodé army’s ranks as magic rained down.

Vanessa didn’t even need to intervene. With the Ruthania mages joining the fray, the Atrodé mages were completely overwhelmed.

“This... this can’t be happening!”

“Focus on the magic! Defend against it!”

“Raise the barrier!”

Gatros and the priests were forced to redirect their energy to defend against the magical onslaught.

However, they could only shield the central command area where the leaders were gathered. Their energy reserves were far too depleted to protect the entire army.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Arghhh!”

The Atrodé soldiers, caught in the magical barrage, were blown apart, their formations in complete disarray.

And then, the magic stopped.

BOOM!

The Fenris Task Force pierced through the shattered ranks of the Atrodé army. Already crippled by the magic, the Atrodé soldiers had no means to resist the overwhelming assault.

Parniel charged into the fray, her massive mace swinging with devastating force as she tore into the Atrodé army’s flank.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Arghhh!”

None could withstand her ferocious onslaught. Soldiers struck by her mace were sent flying in all directions.

Gillian and Tenant’s Ruthania forces joined the fray, crashing into the Atrodé ranks alongside the fortress troops, led by Marquis Gideon.

BOOM!

“Arghhh!”

The Atrodé army was completely encircled. With nearly four times their numbers, they were trapped, unable to escape. All they could do was scream as they were systematically slaughtered.

In this chaos, there was only one person who still had a chance to escape.

Vipenvelt, seeing Gatros gathering energy for one final stand, spoke urgently.

“You must flee.”

“What?”

“Be rational. Your survival is imperative.”

“Ugh... but—”

“You must find the king and escape.”

“To flee now, after losing everything—what’s the point?!”

The army he had built over his lifetime was gone. The scattered rebels would be hunted down before they could regroup.

The Salvation Church was finished.

Every kingdom on the continent would now make it their mission to eradicate it.

There was nothing left for Gatros to do. The rest of his life would be spent as a fugitive.

“Do you mean to tell me that I, I, must live a wretched life on the run?!”

Tears of blood ran down Gatros’s face as he roared in anguish. Vipenvelt, his expression emotionless, replied.

“Did you not vow to find the king?”

“......”

“Did you not say it was your sacred duty?”

“......”

Gatros bit his lip, his rage and despair choking him. He hadn’t forgotten that duty.

But how could he, in this pitiful state, serve the king?

Even if he succeeded in finding the king, would they merely flee together? That thought was perhaps the most unbearable.

Vipenvelt continued in his calm, detached tone.

“I had little interest in the Salvation Church’s goals. I only wished to see His Majesty ascend as ruler of the continent. But now that we’ve failed, our only hope lies with the king.”

“And what hope is that?”

“Revenge, of course. Didn’t you say that if we found the king, anything would be possible?”

The Salvation Church’s ultimate goal had always been to find the king and create a new world. If they found the king, they could continue their struggle against the allied forces.

But Vipenvelt secretly harbored no real expectations. Even if the king were found, what could they achieve with no power or resources left?

Still, he couldn’t abandon the Duke of Reinster, the nominal leader of the Atrodé Kingdom. At the very least, he had to ensure his master’s survival.

And so, Vipenvelt pleaded.

“Please, escape. Protect His Majesty...”

The Duke of Reinster still held the kingdom’s legitimate claim. Perhaps some loyal nobles remained who would rally to his cause.

At this point, the Salvation Church needed any sliver of hope they could grasp. That meant the duke couldn’t be left behind.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Arghhh!”

The screams of Atrodé soldiers echoed from every direction. It was only a matter of time before the allied forces reached the command center.

“Ugh... damn it all...”

Gatros trembled with a mixture of fury and despair. The humiliation he had endured over and over again was too much to bear.

BOOOOM!

Up ahead, the bodies of his soldiers burst apart and flew into the air.

“Gatros!”

A man caught sight of him, his crimson eyes gleaming with a ferocious smile. Mounted on his menacing black horse, Ghislain charged forward with terrifying momentum.

“Ghislain!”

Gatros recognized him instantly. Even from a distance, he could tell that Ghislain had expended much of his strength.

If that weren’t the case, Ghislain would have reached him long before now. Despite the Atrodé forces being in shambles, Ghislain had taken longer than expected to break through.

This realization stoked Gatros’s greed. Perhaps, if he gathered the remaining power of the priests, he could kill that man.

However, Vipenvelt’s urgent shout brought him back to his senses.

“Flee at once!”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

On the flank, Parniel was tearing through the Atrodé forces with devastating power, moving even faster than Ghislain.

“The Battle Saint...”

And it wasn’t just her. Other superhumans were breaking through the Atrodé ranks and heading straight for him.

If Gatros focused all his energy, he might take down one of them. But he would certainly die in the process.

And with his death, the Salvation Church’s mission—decades in the making—would end here and now. That was something he couldn’t allow.

He needed to stay calm. The king had not yet been found.

“...I will repay this humiliation one day.”

Tears of blood streamed down Gatros’s face as he pulled the Orb of Life from his robes. It was one of the last two remaining.

The Orbs of Life could no longer be created. Though he needed to conserve them, there was no other way to escape now.

CRACK!

WHOOOOSH!

As the orb shattered, a surge of black energy enveloped Gatros’s body.

Seeing this, Ghislain clenched his teeth and hurled his spear.

WHAM!

The spear flew through the air in slow motion—or so it seemed. It felt as though time had stopped, with only the crimson light of the spear moving.

The spear pierced through every soldier and knight in its path.

Yet its power did not wane. It moved as though there was nothing in its way, maintaining the same force and speed as when it was first thrown.

Gatros, cloaked in black energy, ground his teeth.

Grind!

“Again!”

The spear flew straight for him. His perception couldn’t lose track of it, yet his body refused to move properly.

“Ugh...”

Time seemed to slow, and his body could not defy the flow.

At this rate, the spear would pierce his heart before he could escape.

“No... this can’t be.”

His body was still far from normal. While his energy had recovered somewhat, the spear’s binding force was stronger than before.

How had Ghislain mastered such techniques? That monstrous man kept growing stronger. He should have been dealt with long ago.

“ARRRRGHHHH!”

Summoning all his strength, Gatros began to break free of the spear’s bindings, twisting his body slightly. But the spear was still aimed at his heart—it was dangerous.

He couldn’t block it. He might die this time.

If only his body were in perfect condition, he could have dodged it!

“The orb... the orb...”

He fumbled for the remaining Orb of Life, intending to shatter it. The energy within might free him from the spear’s grip.

Grind!

Using all his might, Gatros struggled to move his hand. But even that hand refused to obey him.

“This... this can’t be...”

His face twisted in terror. Though he had shifted slightly, the spear’s destructive power would still tear through his chest and obliterate everything around him.

He would die. This time, it truly was the end.

WHOOOSH...

Gatros could only watch helplessly as the spear inched closer to his body.

Just before the spear made contact, the Saintess’s bracelet began to glow once again.

SHHHHIIIIINNNNE!

The spear collided with the radiant holy power.

BOOOOM!

“ARRRGGGHHHH!”

A massive explosion rang out, and Gatros screamed as the spear’s energy engulfed his body.

But the holy power emanating from the bracelet had blocked the spear before it could strike him directly. Thanks to this, he survived.

Amidst the pain, Gatros let out a laugh filled with exhilaration.

“This is truly the will of the gods!”

Twice now, the Saintess’s bracelet had saved his life. How could he consider this mere coincidence? Surely, this was a sign of divine will, urging him to fulfill his sacred mission.

WHOOOOM!

Wounded and battered, Gatros’s body disappeared into the swirling black energy. He had successfully escaped.

Ghislain, still in the stance from throwing his spear, watched it all unfold.

That holy power—it felt different from anything else.

It was... familiar.

It was the same divine energy he had seen in his dream.

Though he was no priest, Ghislain recognized it instinctively. Even he didn’t know why he felt so certain.

He had suspected Gatros possessed some sort of relic. But for it to manifest its power so decisively at such a critical moment...

As the holy power radiated from the bracelet, Ghislain sensed an unmistakable will within it. It was no illusion.

Ghislain murmured, his expression dazed.

“Could it be... that bastard...”

SPURT!

Before he could finish his thought, Ghislain coughed up blood, collapsing backward.