The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 477: My World is Complete (2)

The battlefield resounded with deafening booms as Gillian tore through enemies with the ferocity of his moniker, the White Lion. Bloodied but unrelenting, he bellowed above the clamor:

"Do not falter! Fight! We can hold them off!"

"Uwaaaaah!"

Spurred on by Gillian's display, the defenders roared back, while the advancing Delphine Army soldiers hesitated, cowed by his ferocity.

Meanwhile, Ereneth, shielding the fortress with her summoned elemental forces, silently observed Gillian.

‘This doesn’t make sense.’

His skills were extraordinary. His storm-like aggression was a testament to the heights he had climbed as a knight of the highest caliber. And yet, Ereneth felt there was something amiss.

‘Why has he not crossed the threshold?’

Such expertise was born not of mere training but forged through countless brushes with death. By all accounts, Gillian had laid the foundation to ascend beyond mortal limits. He had even absorbed a fragment of a Dragon Heart, vastly enhancing his mana reserves.

Yet, despite having all the pieces in place, he had failed to create his own world—the hallmark of transcending to Superhuman.

Ereneth didn’t dwell long on the thought. The battlefield was no place for prolonged musings.

“Selaime, burn them all.”

With her command, a massive elemental spirit in the form of a flaming salamander appeared, unleashing waves of searing flames upon the attackers.

"Ahhhhhh!"

The advancing soldiers were incinerated, their ladders charred and crumbling. The fiery inferno momentarily stemmed the Delphine Army's assault.

At that moment, Dark, in his crow-like guise, swooped down toward Gillian.

"Oi, Gillian."

"Dark? How are you already here?"

Gillian was visibly startled. He hadn’t expected reinforcements so soon.

Dark tilted his head arrogantly. "Heh, just hold on a little longer. My master’s on his way, bringing a spectacular ally with him."

"That’s good to hear."

Gillian's expression brightened. He hadn’t anticipated support for another two days, which he was prepared to survive at the cost of his own life. Knowing that help was imminent gave him renewed vigor.

As for this "ally"? Gillian wasn’t particularly curious. With Ghislain, his elite forces, and the combined strength of himself and Ereneth, victory was assured.

“Listen up, everyone! Our lord is on his way! The Commander of the Northern Army is coming to our aid! Hold out just a little longer!”

"Uwaaaaah!"

The name Ghislain echoed through the ranks like a battle cry. Soldiers, both from the Northern and Royal armies, erupted into cheers.

Ghislain's reputation as the strongest in the north—and perhaps the kingdom—preceded him. To those in the thick of battle, his name was synonymous with victory.

But the cheering was abruptly cut short.

BOOM!

A streak of black energy surged through the air, striking Dark's projection and obliterating it.

Gillian barely managed to leap back in time to avoid the blast. A figure leaped onto the battlements, his movements eerily fluid.

“Tsk. A crow? Hmph, where’s the body? Did it disintegrate?” The man muttered, visibly disappointed. He was cloaked in black robes, his smile unnervingly cruel.

“I am Kaspar, Inquisitor of the Salvation Church. And you, White Lion—prepare to die.”

Kaspar's voice dripped with malice, his gaze locked onto Gillian like a predator eyeing its prey.

Below the walls, the Delphine Army resumed their assault with renewed fervor. Their sorcerers had managed to suppress Selaime, the fiery elemental, freeing their forces to scale the walls once more.

Gillian glanced at Ereneth, silently imploring her to intervene. But instead, her voice reached him, carried on the breeze by a wind spirit.

—Why don’t you take him on yourself?

“What? That’s...”

—If you hold him off, we can minimize our losses elsewhere.

Gillian clenched his jaw. It wasn’t that he doubted his abilities, but Kaspar was a Superhuman. Could he possibly stand a chance?

Kaspar didn’t wait for Gillian to make up his mind. With a wicked grin, he surged forward.

BOOM!

Gillian barely raised his axe in time to parry, but the impact sent him skidding backward.

“Ugh!”

Not wasting a second, Gillian counterattacked, swinging his axe in a powerful arc.

SLASH!

The blade grazed Kaspar’s chest, leaving a deep gash.

“You insolent...!”

Enraged, Kaspar lunged at Gillian with even greater ferocity.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The two clashed repeatedly, but the difference in strength became apparent. Kaspar’s crude but devastating attacks wore down Gillian’s weapon and defenses.

“Is this all the so-called White Lion has to offer?” Kaspar taunted, his laughter echoing ominously.

Wounds began to accumulate on Gillian’s body, his breathing growing labored. He could sense the vast gulf separating them—so small on paper but insurmountable in practice.

"Stay down, and I’ll make it quick," Kaspar sneered.

Gillian's vision blurred, but he held firm, even as Kaspar’s oppressive aura bore down on him.

From a distance, Ereneth observed the duel and sighed.

‘So, he hasn’t crossed the threshold after all.’

She closed her eyes briefly, her decision made. Once again, her voice reached Gillian.

—Do you know what holds you back? Ghislain would have already shown you the way.

Gillian’s mind flashed back to his training. The words Ghislain had once spoken to him echoed in his memory.

—You’ll find it in the midst of battle. If you survive.

Ereneth continued, her tone calm but firm.

—Use this moment. Risk everything and define your world.

She turned her attention back to the battlefield, leaving Gillian with her parting advice.

Kaspar snarled, his pride wounded by Gillian’s resilience.

"Enough games. I’ll crush your skull myself!"

He lunged, his hand radiating with malevolent energy.

Gillian steadied himself. His body trembled, not from fear but from the sheer intensity of the moment.

“...My world...”

His grip tightened on his battered axe, and a faint yet distinct aura began to emanate from him.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The clash between Kaspar and Gillian raged on with unrelenting ferocity. Gillian, battered and bloodied, refused to back down. His relentless attacks, ignoring the cost to his own life, were enough to make even Kaspar flinch.

Their battlefield was confined, each move deliberate as they closed the distance, each aiming for a fatal strike. Despite his ferocity, Gillian's body was shredded, his wounds deepening. In contrast, Kaspar, though showing signs of fatigue, remained mostly unscathed.

Boom!

Even with his axe head nearly destroyed, Gillian’s assault did not cease.

“Just a little more...”

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

Victory felt within his grasp, yet the elusive barrier of becoming a transcendent remained unbroken. The wall dividing him from Kaspar felt insurmountable, its height more palpable with every swing.

“If it’s Fenris Count, he must have already taught you.”

He remembered. Ghislain had imparted everything to him, holding nothing back. The dragon heart shard, techniques coveted by even the most skilled warriors—everything had been freely given.

Born with talent, seasoned through countless battles, and graced by Ghislain’s teachings, Gillian should have long ascended to transcendence.

“So why haven’t I?”

Thwack!

Kaspar’s claws grazed his neck, blood spurting out. The seemingly endless mana coursing through his body began to wane. The efficiency gap between a transcendent and a peak-level warrior was stark, and every exchange sapped Gillian’s reserves at an alarming rate.

“Why am I still...?”

As death loomed closer, a deep-seated resentment stirred within Gillian.

The roots of doubt...

“Are you even worthy?”

He was but a lowly mercenary.

At the tender age of ten, he picked up the sword to survive. Cleaning up after other mercenaries, eating scraps from their meals, he clawed his way through life.

And yes, he did unspeakable things—murders justified by survival, greed, or camaraderie. No matter the reason, the acts were still heinous.

No amount of justification could change that. Such was the life of a mercenary.

Eventually, he gained fame. With fame came confidence, then arrogance. He dismissed nobles as easily as lesser mercenaries.

Then he met Ghislain, and everything changed. He vowed to devote the rest of his life to the man who had shown him kindness.

“Yes, I’ve walked that path.”

Every step since meeting Ghislain was one of loyalty. His sword swung not for gold but for the ideals of his lord. Life, to him, was disposable.

But could a man who spent decades as a mere mercenary truly wear the mantle of a knight? Was he deserving of the words “honor” and “loyalty”?

The doubts festered.

Every scornful word calling him a “lowly mercenary” or “Ghislain’s thug” lingered in his mind. He brushed it off, but it stung. Did his presence taint Ghislain’s honor?

“Was I just looking for a place to die in glory?”

Or perhaps, a place where he could bask in reflected fame?

Conflicted, Gillian’s thoughts spiraled.

Then, he remembered.

“Your daughter’s illness will be cured.”

Ghislain had forced his way into Gillian’s life, offering to heal his daughter. When asked why, Ghislain’s response was almost dismissive:

“Do you need a grand reason to help someone in need?”

Ghislain was such a man—acting on whims yet steadfast in protecting those around him.

“I gave you the choice to walk away. You decided to stay. That’s all there is to it.”

The realization hit Gillian like a thunderclap.

BOOM!

The sound of an explosion jolted him back to the present.

Gillian, bloodied and barely standing, looked down at his hand. His axe was gone, reduced to splinters, leaving only the battered handle in his grip.

“So, this is the end?”

Kaspar grinned maniacally, his arm raised high to deliver the finishing blow.

Caw!

A screech echoed through the chaos. A black raven dive-bombed Kaspar’s face.

Thwack!

“Damn bird!” Kaspar growled, swiping at the unexpected intruder.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Gillian shifted slightly.

Thud!

Kaspar’s claw pierced Gillian’s right chest, blood spraying from the wound.

“Gillian!” screeched the raven. “Hold on! The master is—”

BOOM!

Before it could finish, Kaspar’s energy surged, obliterating the raven mid-sentence.

“What’s with this bird? Didn’t I just kill it earlier?” Kaspar muttered, momentarily distracted.

Gillian’s gaze, however, wasn’t on Kaspar.

DUDUDUDUDU!

Thunderous hooves heralded the arrival of Ghislain, leading the Fenris cavalry in a devastating charge. His voice roared across the battlefield like rolling thunder.

“Gillian!”

“My lord...”

“I’m here! Hold the line!”

A bloody grin spread across Gillian’s face.

Fight if ordered to fight. Protect if ordered to protect. Endure if ordered to endure.

“I overthought it,” Gillian murmured, his voice laced with grim amusement. “I never realized the darkness I carried within.”

“You’re finished, Gillian,” Kaspar snarled, preparing to strike once more.

But Gillian’s hand shot out, gripping Kaspar’s arm with an unyielding strength.

“I am my lord’s sword and shield,” Gillian declared, his voice resolute.

“What nonsense is this?” Kaspar spat, struggling against Gillian’s grip.

“My lord’s enemies will fall by my blade, and I will guard him with my life. That is my loyalty. And loyalty requires no qualifications.”

“Insane bastard!”

Kaspar attempted to wrest his arm free, but Gillian’s hold was ironclad.

Thwack!

With a swift motion, Gillian drove the shattered axe handle through Kaspar’s throat.

“Guh... urgh...” Kaspar gurgled, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Gillian’s gaze burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce the heavens.

“Today,” he said, his voice unwavering, “my world is complete.”

The axe handle, now wreathed in a radiant aura blade, pierced cleanly through Kaspar’s neck.

In that moment, Gillian transcended.