The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 763: I Told You Back Then (1)

The aftermath of Grondal’s halberd swing alone sent Tagmah hurtling backward.

Even without a direct hit, the sheer force of Grondal’s attack was enough to break his opponent’s balance—such was the terror of his blow.

However, Grondal did not possess the ability to move freely in the air. After unleashing a strike mid-air, he soon came crashing back down to the ground.

Boom!

As he landed, the earth split open and a shockwave rippled outward.

Standing atop the cracked ground, Grondal let out a fierce grin.

“You’re pretty good. What the hell are you supposed to be?”

“I am the hand preparing the arrival of the Black Revelation, the herald of the covenant, the one who spreads His will as the bearer of the Fourth Blessing. I am the prophet Tagmah.”

“That’s one hell of a self-introduction. And a prophet, no less. Cultist bastards sure know how to spout bullshit.”

“Such a foul mouth. Do you lack the dignity befitting a king?”

“I don’t show dignity to trash like you.”

Grondal gripped his halberd once more. A group of dwarves approached him.

These were the very ones who, moments earlier, had been clinking their mugs and laughing at his side. They were the six dwarven captains known as the “Ironhearts.”

Ironheart was a title reserved for only the elite warriors and generals of Vallscrum.

They raised their weapons with wrathful resolve and shouted:

“That bastard looks like a pain to deal with. Let’s fight together!”

“He must be the leader! Kill him and it’s over, right?”

“Yeah! Let’s just all gang up and beat him to death!”

The six dwarf captains instinctively sensed Tagmah’s power.

He was an opponent who could clash with Grondal—the strongest of dwarves—and still not fall easily. That only confirmed that joining forces was the right call.

Grondal didn’t disagree with the notion that a joint attack was necessary. But in the current situation, it wasn’t the right move.

He looked around.

GRAAAAAH!

Monsters were surging in from all directions.

Countless explosions of dark magic were erupting inside and outside the city, and even the high priests of the Salvation Order had appeared.

If that bastard Tagmah chose to go on the defensive, then even with the Ironhearts helping, taking him down wouldn’t be easy. And if they wasted time like that...

“No. No way.”

Grondal shook his head. The Ironhearts needed to fend off the incoming creatures.

“I’ll hold that bastard. You handle the others.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’ll stall him. Just clean up the rest of them quickly! That’ll be better.”

At Grondal’s firm command, the dwarf captains nodded.

The dwarves at the front line were already suffering heavy losses. Only if the captains stepped up could they deal with the enemy superhumans.

They had no other choice. With weapons in hand, they scattered in all directions.

And so, only Grondal and Tagmah remained.

Left alone, Grondal bit his lip. Tagmah hovered in the air, wearing a smug grin.

“Tch. You bastard...”

It was obvious why he was smiling.

This wasn’t a fair fight. Grondal had to consider the safety of his people. But those bastards had no such shackles. They didn’t care about protecting allies.

They could throw away undead and chimeras like garbage. Even if every monster was wiped out, the Salvation Order would suffer no meaningful loss.

Which meant...

To deal real damage to the Salvation Order, the so-called prophet had to be killed.

BOOM!

Grondal once more launched off the ground, his halberd slamming into Tagmah like lightning.

CRACK!

Dark energy erupted from Tagmah’s body, absorbing the shock. But Grondal didn’t stop.

Instead, he used the recoil to leap up again, delivering a flurry of blows.

BAM! BAM! BOOM!

Grondal kept leaping off the air itself, using the backlash of each strike. It was as if he defied gravity.

This was a supremely difficult technique, requiring not only brute strength and stamina but also delicate control.

Tagmah tried to widen the distance by releasing a powerful surge of energy. But Grondal countered the wave and closed in again.

He absorbed the shockwaves with his rugged frame. A lesser body would’ve been torn apart by now.

Tagmah, caught off guard by the tactic, looked impressed.

“You’re truly strong.”

“Shut it. I’ll deep-fry you in molten iron, bastard.”

CRASH! CRASH! KABOOM!

No matter how freely Tagmah could fly, fighting in the air was never easier than fighting on the ground.

Only on solid earth could one unleash their full strength.

Eventually, Tagmah descended to the ground. Grondal bared his teeth in a brief, savage smile.

“You arrogant bastard. The ground is where a dwarf shows his full power.”

“Quite confident, aren’t you?”

“See for yourself.”

Grondal brought his halberd down toward Tagmah’s head. Tagmah, too, stomped the ground and reached out with his hand.

KRAAAASH!

CRRRACK!

The impact split the earth, and nearby buildings began to collapse.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The two clashed without rest. Black darkness and blazing steel cut, smashed, and clashed against one another.

Power versus power. Will against will.

Neither dodged. Neither retreated.

A ferocious back-and-forth. A slugfest with not a single step given.

It was a battle of who would collapse first.

RUMBLE!

The ground beneath them had already broken apart and caved in. Walls and towers nearby had crumbled into dust.

The sky darkened. Even the air itself trembled.

CRACKLE!

The battle showed no signs of ending. But Grondal knew the truth.

“The longer this goes on, the more we lose.”

So he decided to push himself further.

Grondal gritted his teeth. Gripping his halberd with both hands, he raised it high.

The attack of a dwarven king was, in truth, extremely simple.

A single-minded, straight-line strike.

But if immense power backed it up, the story changed.

Grondal’s eyes burned crimson. And as he swung the halberd with his full strength—

—it was as if the world split apart.

KWAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!

The impact sent Tagmah staggering backward.

The ground beneath his feet ruptured, and a massive trench formed, as if a boulder had smashed through.

But Grondal didn’t stop.

CRACK! CRASH! KABOOM!

Like hammering a nail, Grondal kept striking down on Tagmah with his halberd. Each blow caused Tagmah’s body to jolt and retreat further.

Every single impact left a deep scar on the land.

Tagmah silently watched Grondal.

“...Impressive.”

Stronger than expected. No—he had to be strong.

The dwarven king wasn’t holding back his body at all, attacking with pure killing intent.

This wasn’t impatience to end the fight quickly. It was a relentless drive to kill the enemy with everything he had.

CRASH! CRASH! CRAAAAASH!

Grondal didn’t stop, face twisted in a savage scowl. It was clear he was prepared to tank any counterattack with his own body.

Tagmah calmly held his ground.

“When the flames are at their fiercest... sometimes it’s best to wait until the heat dies down.”

They were in no rush. The monsters and dark mages brought here were all expendable.

As long as the high priests survived, victory would still be theirs.

CRASH! CRASH! CRAAAAASH!

Grondal knew the enemy was stalling for time. Even so, he no longer cared.

Steel isn’t forged with just one or two strikes.

Tempering is the process of striking and cooling a weapon hundreds, thousands of times. Only when every step is repeated does it become a true blade.

Which is why patience is the most important virtue of a master craftsman.

He was prepared to keep hammering until death. Until that impurity called Tagmah was no more.

CRASH! CRASH! KABOOOM!

Tagmah's body kept being pushed back. After a long stretch of solely defending, he finally opened his mouth.

“Grondal, ruler of Vallscrum and king of the mighty dwarves. I offer deep reverence to your astonishing might.”

“Cut the bullshit. I don’t care how much you kiss my ass—it won’t keep your bones intact. You’d best prepare to get flattened.”

“Yet your struggle ends here. We have long prepared for the trampling of this place.”

“You still have a working mouth, huh? And you think it’ll actually succeed?”

“It is the will of God.”

Tagmah sneered darkly. At that moment, Grondal felt an alien aura surging in from his side.

Damn it.

It was too late to block or dodge. He had poured everything into fighting Tagmah.

KRAAAAK! 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“Gah!”

Caught off guard, Grondal was thrown to the side.

He gritted his teeth, slamming his halberd into the ground to stand back up.

Next to Tagmah stood a middle-aged man in the same black robes.

Grondal growled and demanded,

“And who the hell are you?”

“I am the hand preparing the arrival of the Black Revelation, the herald of the covenant, the one who spreads His will as the bearer of the Third Blessing. I am the prophet Rahаmod.”

Grondal let out a snort, his shoulders shaking in laughter. The way these cult bastards introduced themselves so proudly was nothing short of ridiculous.

But one thing was clear—this new arrival was strong. Very strong.

It was clear now: they had come here with full intent.

Ptooey!

Grondal spat out a mouthful of blood, then stood up tall and proud.

Nothing had changed. He was already fighting with his life on the line. There was no reason to cower just because the enemy had doubled.

“All right then. Let’s see who dies first today.”

The moment his words ended, a blast of dark energy surged from both Rahаmod and Tagmah, crashing down on Grondal.

KABOOOOOOM!

A massive shockwave rocked the center of Vallscrum.

Dust exploded into the sky, and the earth screamed.

But even within that storm—

—one dwarf gripped his halberd and did not retreat.

***

“Whew...”

Ghislain slowly descended to the ground.

As he opened his eyes, the tempest of mana raging around him finally calmed.

He had consumed all the mana he’d stored over several days using the mana focusing formation. He would now have to stop transferring mana to his allies as well.

If he continued to expend any more mana, he wouldn’t be able to fight in the battle that truly mattered.

“Is everyone safe?”

— Julien, Ereneth, and Lionel have cleared the area and are headed this way! They’ve gained enough distance—no problems there!

Dark’s report was missing one name. Ghislain asked again.

“Kyle?”

— Well... things aren’t great. The dwarves didn’t retreat properly, and now it looks like he might get caught.

Ghislain furrowed his brow. He couldn’t grasp the full details, but clearly things were getting messier than expected.

And he wasn’t in a position to go help. Already, powerful energies were clashing nearby.

Most likely, those so-called prophets have arrived.

He couldn’t be sure whether Rahаmod—the one they’d encountered before—had shown up, but he could sense two comparable forces.

And the one fighting them was likely the dwarf king, Grondal.

Ghislain let out a low sigh and said,

“Tell Kyle to fall back immediately.”

They had planned to save and regroup with as many as possible, but perfection was a luxury. After all, they’d made this move without the dwarves’ full cooperation.

No matter what happened, Kyle couldn’t be lost here. That would turn this mission upside down.

They had bought enough time. Now they could only hope the dwarves escaped safely.

— Got it! I’m telling him now! He’ll ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) be retreating soon!

Ghislain grabbed his staff. Then, he spoke to Deneb, who stood beside him.

“Let’s go.”

There was no time to hesitate. He had to get involved.

With one arm, he scooped Deneb up and soared into the sky. He activated a reconnaissance spell to assess the situation first.

BOOM! BOOM! CRASH!

Near the royal castle, Grondal was engaged in battle with two prophets.

Ghislain identified one of them immediately.

Rahаmod.

So he had come here after all. Clearly, they intended to succeed no matter the cost.

KRAAAK!

Even as he fought, Grondal was repeatedly knocked back.

His body was already covered in blood. The ground around him was stained red with his own wounds.

And yet his eyes still burned with fire. If anything, his resolve only grew stronger.

But even someone as powerful as Grondal couldn’t hold out against two prophets forever. His body was already torn and exhausted.

Ghislain, watching from above, set Deneb down some distance away.

Then his form dispersed like a cloud of black mist.

Snap!

There was no need to worry about sound. The battlefield was already drowned in chaos.

Suppressing his aura to the utmost, he began to move.

Grondal was in danger—but rash action would only backfire.

Ssshhh...

Ghislain blended silently into the world.

He slipped along the flow of air, walking between light and shadow.

Like a hunter—slow, steady, and never stopping as he closed in on his prey.

Like a breeze that comes so naturally no one notices it—until it’s already there.

KRAAAAAK!

Grondal was blasted back again. This time, he couldn’t rise so easily. He coughed up blood.

Tagmah and Rahаmod stood before him.

They too looked a little fatigued and disheveled, but they bore no serious injuries.

“It’s over now. Dwarven King Grondal.”

Tagmah and Rahаmod raised their hands in unison. A powerful energy began to gather within their palms.

They only needed to unleash that energy to reduce Grondal to dust. That would end the war.

Just as they prepared to strike—

—Rahаmod suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

A creeping sensation surged up his neck, and all the hairs on his body stood on end.

He turned instinctively. Tagmah also sensed something wrong and quickly spun around.

And then, they saw it.

A sword—bursting forth from empty space.

Without warning, that blade swung toward them.

SLAASH!