The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

In Ghislain’s previous life, Helgenique had operated independently.
He didn’t care about the Salvation Order, the Allied Forces, the Rift Beasts, or even ordinary people. He captured anyone he encountered for his experiments, driven solely by his own curiosity.
The continent’s chaos provided the perfect playground for him. With his overwhelming power, few dared to stop him.

It was only Saintess Parniel who could stand against him, engaging in a long, grueling battle. Even then, there was no definitive victor.
Though Helgenique was labeled the sixth among the Seven Strongest, rankings among them were meaningless—arbitrary titles assigned by onlookers based on their accomplishments.
Ghislain’s gaze turned icy.

“Well, this works out. I was planning to kill him eventually. I’ll deal with him now.”
Originally, Ghislain had intended to clean up Helgenique after eliminating the Salvation Order. But with Helgenique now aligning himself with the Order, Ghislain could incorporate him into his objectives without delay.
It would be exhausting, but Helgenique was just one more opponent to face.

“We need to move immediately.”
Helgenique posed the greatest threat on any battlefield. His undead army could fight endlessly without tiring.
Facing such an opponent was grueling, especially since every fight only added more corpses to his ranks.

In his past life, there had been a limit to the number of undead Helgenique could control. However, the swift collapse of Parsali Kingdom suggested that he had surpassed that limit.
“The Orb of Life.”
A relic of the Salvation Order, capable of creating transcendent warriors. Each orb contained the life force of tens of thousands of individuals.

The Salvation Order must have provided it to Helgenique. With such a tool, his ability to control vast numbers of undead had likely become almost limitless.
The allied forces promptly adjusted their strategy. It was clear this move was a ploy to protect Atrodé Kingdom, but the undead army couldn’t be ignored.
If left unchecked, the number of undead would only continue to grow. While the growing enemy force was an issue, there was a more pressing concern.

“Bring every priest with us, and ensure we’re well-stocked with medicine,” Ghislain ordered.
Undead armies inevitably carried plague. They needed to deal with Helgenique before disease spread.
Ghislain smirked wryly.
“Being in this position is exhausting.”

The larger the army, the more constrained his movements had become. This time, the Salvation Order had taken full advantage of that.
The strategy team voiced their concerns.
“This is clearly a diversion to draw our attention.”

“They’ll likely attack other kingdoms with their remaining forces.”
“There are still troops in Atrodé Kingdom.”
Ghislain quickly addressed their worries.

“Recall all allied forces from other regions. Tell them to converge on Atrodé Kingdom and advance as soon as they’re ready. Once Parsali is dealt with, Julien and I will lead a strike force to flank the enemy.”
Julien nodded.
Both sides had amassed forces too large for careless maneuvers. Moving separately would minimize the risk of being overwhelmed piecemeal.

Some kingdoms might temporarily fall to the Salvation Order, but that loss was a necessary sacrifice.
Resolving the situation in Parsali Kingdom would be the turning point. Once that was done, the full might of the allied forces could descend on Atrodé Kingdom.
“Let’s move out.”

As always, Ghislain and the Fenris Vanguard led the charge. This time, however, Julien was part of the vanguard as well.
The sound of hooves thundered across the land as they raced toward Parsali Kingdom, arriving at an impressive speed.
Parsali’s forces welcomed them with visible relief. They had been pushed to the brink, holding on only by retreating to the kingdom’s edges.

“You’ve come! Thank the heavens!”
Marquis Suffolk, Parsali’s commander-in-chief, looked ready to cry as he greeted Ghislain. The kingdom was on the verge of annihilation, overwhelmed by a massive undead army.
In their retreat, they had lost all their strongholds and were nearly out of food. Refugees had flooded the area, amplifying the sense of despair.

Ghislain immediately asked for an update.
“How many undead are there now?”
“We… we don’t know. The last report estimated over 200,000.”

“Two hundred thousand?”
“They’ve turned everyone into corpses—enemy and ally alike. They massacre indiscriminately, wiping out every village and city in their path. The numbers just keep growing.”
Ghislain nodded grimly. If Helgenique could amass such a force in such a short time, his power had far surpassed what Ghislain had known in his past life.

The situation was far worse than expected.
“Let’s deploy immediately. You’ve done well to hold out this long.”
Considering the scale of the enemy, Parsali’s resilience was commendable.

Marquis Suffolk hesitated, then admitted sheepishly, “We… didn’t do it alone. A mage has been helping us….”
“A mage?”
“Yes. Thanks to him, we’ve been able to slow their advance. He’s been fighting alone this whole time.”

Ghislain froze for a moment. Someone fighting an army of over 200,000 on their own?
“What’s this mage’s name?”
“Jerome. He said his name was Jerome.”

The familiar name brought a grin to Ghislain’s face.
“We have power, so we have to use it to save people. It’s only right.”
Despite his laziness, Jerome had always stood firm in his beliefs.

“Hey, can’t you just help out? Please? Pretty please?”
A member of the Seven Strongest, yet Jerome would cast aside his pride to ask for help if it meant saving lives.
Without a faction to support him, Jerome always fought alone.

Ghislain chuckled quietly, struggling to contain his laughter in the somber atmosphere.
As expected, Jerome hadn’t changed. Even in the face of such adversity, he was fighting alone against an overwhelming force.
Because of him, the undead’s advance had slowed.

Jerome’s unwavering belief in saving lives had left a mark on Ghislain. In his previous life, that belief had occasionally shifted Ghislain’s own path.
He hadn’t been solely driven by revenge. Somewhere along the way, he had begun helping others, hunting Rift creatures to protect people.
And it hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant experience.

With a smile, Ghislain raised his spear.
“Well, shall the third-ranked warrior go save the seventh-ranked one?”
Of course, the rankings might shift this time around.

***
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The battlefield was a cacophony of explosions as Jerome’s magic decimated the undead hordes.

“Damn, this is insane,” Jerome muttered, crouching with one hand on his knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The Parsali Kingdom’s forces had suffered significant losses, overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of undead. Those who feared becoming part of the undead army fought recklessly, their desperation leading to even greater casualties.
Thanks to Jerome’s intervention, the kingdom's forces managed to hold their ground and retreat in relative order. However, every dead soldier, enemy or ally, ended up as another addition to Helgenique’s growing undead army.

“Ugh, there are just too many,” Jerome groaned.
No matter how many he obliterated, the undead rose again. Even ancient corpses buried deep beneath the battlefield clawed their way to the surface.
He had tried incinerating them to ash and scattering their remains, but the numbers only kept growing. For every undead he destroyed, more took their place—fresh casualties from the battle.

To make matters worse, even fragments of obliterated bodies reassembled themselves into grotesque, unrecognizable forms that still moved and attacked.
“Even for a necromancer, this shouldn’t be possible. That bastard must have pulled off some truly insane trick.”
Jerome had encountered Helgenique briefly and knew he was strong, but the scale and speed at which this undead army was created far exceeded normal capabilities.

“Must be the Salvation Order’s black arts,” Jerome murmured, frowning. “They’re definitely using something like those life-siphoning rituals.”
Boom!
A surge of mana surged from Jerome’s hands, obliterating the undead that had surrounded him. Yet, the empty space they left behind was immediately filled by two familiar figures.

“They’re back again? Damn it.”
These weren’t ordinary undead—they were the reanimated corpses of high-ranking priests from the Salvation Order, slain just days before.
Zap!

Jerome thrust his hands forward, and a brilliant light pierced through the torsos of the undead priests, sending them flying.
But even as their bodies were blown apart, they immediately rose again, completely unfazed.
Screech!

The undead priests let out guttural howls, their inhuman speed allowing them to close the gap in the blink of an eye. They swung their claws at Jerome with the strength of near-transcendent beings.
“Damn it all!”
Jerome gritted his teeth and summoned the last vestiges of his mana.

Whoosh!
A massive mana blade erupted from his hands, slicing cleanly through the necks of the undead priests. Their heads hit the ground with a sickening thud.
But even decapitated, the severed heads snarled and snapped their jaws, while the dismembered bodies continued twitching.

“Just die already,” Jerome muttered, splitting the bodies further until they were reduced to writhing chunks incapable of movement.
“These two are... different,” he noted grimly.
He had already reduced them to ash and scattered their remains before, but the undead priests always reappeared in some new form, their strength undiminished.

“Helgenique’s using something big,” Jerome muttered, retreating cautiously as another wave of undead surged toward him.
The sheer numbers were overwhelming. Despite obliterating waves of enemies with his full power, the battlefield was a relentless tide of death, and Jerome’s mana reserves were dangerously low.
Meanwhile, Helgenique observed the battlefield with a rare scowl.

“That man... is truly something else.”
Gone was the amused grin he had worn earlier. Jerome had singlehandedly slowed the advance of his massive undead army, an army Helgenique had believed to be unstoppable.
Hundreds of thousands of undead had fallen to Jerome’s spells. It was no exaggeration to call him a one-man army.

“Damn it,” Helgenique growled, grinding his teeth.
The Salvation Order had provided him with 20 Orbs of Life, artifacts filled with the life force of tens of thousands. These relics had enabled him to create an undead army of unprecedented scale.
Yet, Jerome had forced Helgenique to consume 15 of the 20 orbs already.

Each orb was precious, containing the power to reanimate legions of undead or resurrect powerful corpses. But to counter Jerome’s relentless assault, Helgenique had been forced to expend them at an alarming rate.
“This isn’t just an annoyance—it’s humiliating,” Helgenique muttered.
If he had faced Jerome without the Orbs of Life, he might have been in real danger. The realization made his blood boil.

Snap!
Another orb shattered in Helgenique’s hands, releasing a surge of malevolent energy. The dark aura enveloped him, seeping into his body.
“Such fascinating power,” he murmured.

The energy of the orb resonated with his own dark magic, though it refused to fully integrate with his essence. Even so, it allowed him to bolster his undead army further.
Raising his arms, Helgenique unleashed the orb’s energy into the battlefield.
Whoosh!

Dark tendrils spread across the land, infusing shattered corpses with unholy vitality. Pulverized remains coalesced into malformed monstrosities, and fallen undead rose again, their bodies grotesquely reformed.
Jerome, watching the spectacle from the battlefield, muttered, “This bastard really is a devil.”
No soul could rest in peace. Every fallen body was dragged back into the battle, enslaved by Helgenique’s will.

“All that talent... wasted on something so vile,” Jerome growled, gripping his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
Nearby, Helgenique’s frustration matched Jerome’s determination.
“The next time we meet,” Helgenique promised with a twisted grin, “I’ll make sure you never interfere again.”

Jerome might have been fatigued, his spells weakening with each passing moment, but Helgenique had only four orbs left.
Their next encounter would determine everything.