The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 705

By the time Jerome arrived, all the key figures of Fenris had already gathered around the book.

Panting from running, he asked urgently, “What is it? What happened? When did this get written?”

Belinda shook her head.

“We haven’t seen it yet. Vanessa called us over just now.”

Vanessa, her face flushed with excitement, added, “When I heard you were back, I was compiling the research on the Rifts. Then, out of curiosity, I opened the book—and there it was. New content had been added!”

In other words, nobody had actually seen it happen.

Vanessa had simply gathered everyone quickly, reasoning that it was better for all of them to see it together.

As the rightful owner of the book, Jerome slowly flipped through the pages.

[…After helping Leo, we moved to another location. But then, something happened to my body. I couldn’t withstand Ghislain’s consciousness, and my body began to collapse. To avoid immediate danger, Ghislain hastily learned magic…]

Belinda was the first to shout at Claude.

“See?! I told you our young master is smart! He can learn magic!”

“……”

Claude had always insisted that Ghislain’s head was too thick to ever master magic. But now, it was right there in the book—written proof that he had learned it.

There was no way to argue against it.

Claude couldn’t understand how it had happened, but the next passage revealed the secret.

[…Ghislain learned magic through my body. He didn’t study at all—he simply grasped the flow of mana and forced it into existence… As a mage, I felt a profound sense of shame at his complete disregard for the fundamental principles of magic…]

“……”

It was an absurdly Ghislain-esque way of learning magic.

No one could say a word. Even Belinda, despite her initial excitement, averted her gaze as if suddenly uninterested.

What followed was even more shocking.

“Wait… You’re telling me he started that whole ‘Duck Myth’ nonsense?”

“What the hell is our lord even doing out there?”

“I mean, sure, the past and future influence each other, but… this is a bit much.”

Even in the past, Ghislain had been up to his usual ridiculous antics.

Everyone looked exasperated.

Since he was in the past, there was no way to stop him.

Later entries detailed how he had hunted down dark mages, stolen their grimoires, and rapidly climbed to the 6th Circle—all through sheer brute force.

Instead of following any formal method, he had refined the flow of mana to the point of creating entirely new spells from scratch.

“Hah…”

The group was dumbfounded by Ghislain’s bizarre talent, but Jerome was the most shocked of all.

A thought crossed his mind—could the magic book he had given to Alfoy have been created by Ghislain?

“No way…”

That book was built on highly sophisticated theories.

If Ghislain had simply brute-forced his way into magic, there was no way he could have written something that structured.

…But it wasn’t impossible.

Maybe Astion had later refined Ghislain’s crude magic into proper theory.

[…Afterward, we took in the Ironclad Lion Corps and waged war against Count Crest…]

Kaor muttered in a daze.

“Wait… The recognition of Moriano was his doing?”

Memories came rushing back—the first time Kaor had tasted the stuff, he had absolutely hated it.

And yet, Ghislain was the one who had come up with it?

The room erupted into helpless laughter as they read more of his antics.

“As expected of the young master.”

“You challenge him? You die. You stab him in the back? You still die.”

The record continued, chronicling even more of Ghislain’s absurd feats.

Then they reached the part where he created a Death Knight.

Everyone turned to Claude.

Claude immediately jumped to his feet and shouted, “I-I knew it! He finally went all the way! He’s practicing dark magic! He’s becoming a dark mage!”

All eyes were on Claude.

And there was a reason for his outburst.

Claude nervously bit his nails, cold sweat dripping down his back.

‘W-What do I do? At this rate, I’ll be a slave for eternity!’

Despite being a slave, Claude had been living life exactly as he pleased.

His infamous dried persimmon thefts were so well known that everyone in Fenris was aware of them.

He had survived this long because of his sheer bravado and reckless attitude.

— “Yeah, well, I’ll just die if it comes to that.”

Claude had always shrugged things off with that mindset.

If things got too bad, he figured he could just die and be done with it.

But now?

— “Yeah, well, you’ll be a slave forever.”

If it was Ghislain, he could absolutely trap Claude’s soul and make that statement a reality.

That was the problem.

And that lunatic would definitely wake up at the slightest hint of danger.

Even Dark had once said that their master could regain consciousness at any time.

The others exchanged looks, half in pity and half in amusement, before ignoring the trembling Claude and turning the page.

[…We headed to the capital to secure our victory. Alex, the young king of Flovitz, was under constant pressure from Marquis Falkenheim. Every day, he was plagued by worry. Upon hearing that we had defeated Falkenheim’s lapdog, Count Crest, he eagerly welcomed us.]

[The negotiations proceeded smoothly. When we prepared to leave, Alex begged us to stay and help. As we hesitated, Ghislain stepped forward to speak on our behalf…]

Jerome let out a disappointed sigh.

“Ah… that’s it.”

The story had stopped.

Since they didn’t know what triggered new content to appear, there was nothing they could do but wait.

Still, it was a relief to learn that Ghislain was doing well.

And now that they knew the book was still updating, they could check it regularly for new developments.

“It’s good to know what the young master is up to. I hope we get more updates soon.”

Belinda’s words made everyone glance at her.

She didn’t care at all about Ghislain’s bizarre antics—only about whether he was safe and healthy.

‘Well… makes sense, considering who raised her.’

That thought crossed their minds, but none of them dared to say it out loud.

“Still… this is kind of fun. It’s like watching a show.”

Claude, trying to change the subject, casually threw out a remark.

Vanessa nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. The more I read, the more I want to root for him.”

Their conversation sparked a round of chatter as everyone began discussing Ghislain’s actions.

As expected, he was the main topic of discussion.

But Jerome, unlike the others, silently stared at the book with a troubled expression.

Something was bothering him.

‘There’s no mention of the magic book.’

The spellbook he had given Alfoy definitely existed.

And yet, this detailed record of Ghislain’s actions didn’t mention it at all.

Of course, it was possible that Astion had simply deemed it unimportant and skipped over it.

But what if…

‘What if the magic book wasn’t placed there until long after Ghislain’s time in the past?’

That would mean the future was already predetermined.

And that thought unsettled him.

Ghislain had been freely rewriting history.

Things that had once been mere legends were turning into reality under his hands.

His actions were reshaping the present.

If the future was truly fixed, then this book should already contain everything Ghislain was going to do.

Even as he tried to push the thought aside, Jerome couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his chest.

‘Could it be…’

There was an old saying passed down in the Tower of Radiance.

— “The result changes the cause.”

***

If this reality was not the future that was originally meant to be…

If, in the true history, Duke Delphine had seized control of the Ruthania Kingdom and the Salvation Order had successfully conquered the continent…

If all of history had been rewritten because of Ghislain…

"Is he adjusting the past to align with the present?"

It was an absurd thought. But Jerome couldn’t dismiss the possibility.

It wasn’t difficult to guess Ghislain’s motives for his actions in the past.

He was likely trying to uncover the Adversary, still a lingering threat.

He was investigating what had truly happened back then.

And… if possible, he might even be trying to save the Hero and the Saintess.

But in order to reach the present reality, certain events had to happen.

The future could not be sacrificed for the sake of the past.

There was no way of knowing what Ghislain would do next.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

That was why the book wasn’t revealing everything in advance.

Still, history had to unfold.

Whether Ghislain caused those events or something else did, they would happen.

Perhaps the magic book given to Alfoy was proof of that.

"No… that’s not it. If that were the case, then there would be no reason for him to have been summoned to the past."

If the past was truly unchangeable, then why would Ghislain have been brought there in the first place?

The truth could have simply been revealed to him instead.

The fact that he had been summoned meant that there was something he needed to do in that era.

And in reality, weren’t his actions already influencing the past?

Jerome pressed his fingers against his temples, massaging away his headache.

Even with his vast knowledge, he couldn’t fully grasp the current situation.

In contrast, maybe Ghislain’s approach—just enjoying life in the past without overthinking things—was the wiser one.

"That kind of mindset… I’m honestly jealous."

Jerome shook his head, brushing away his thoughts.

He needed to simplify things.

As always, Ghislain would handle everything in his own way.

There was no need to worry too much.

Even if something happened because of the past…

As long as they worked together, they would be able to overcome any crisis.

Somewhere Else…

"Ugh… How did you find this place…?"

A priest of the Salvation Order collapsed to the ground, his face twisted in disbelief.

A massive wound had been torn through his abdomen.

With shaking eyes, he looked up at the figure standing before him.

A man whose beauty seemed sculpted by the gods.

A face so unnaturally perfect that it almost seemed like a statue, devoid of all emotion.

The dozens of Salvation Order members who had hidden here were all dead.

All that remained of the man before him was an overwhelming, blade-like presence.

There were very few people on the continent with such an aura.

"Prince Julien… of Turian."

The priest spat out blood, cursing his enemy with his dying breath before slumping over, lifeless.

Julien glanced around.

Corpses littered the ground.

No more signs of life remained.

He had found this Salvation Order hideout—and had wordlessly slaughtered everyone inside.

These were the ones who had thrown the entire continent into war.

Even now, there were still remnants of them scattered throughout the land.

Although the kingdoms had joined forces to keep them in check, if the Salvation Order wasn’t completely eradicated, they would, like cockroaches, slowly spread again.

Hadn’t they already spent a thousand years hiding in the shadows, building their strength?

There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t try again.

Not to mention, the threat of the Rifts still loomed.

That was why Julien hunted down the Salvation Order’s remnants without hesitation.

He was only one man.

But not a single one of them could stop him.

Without a word, Julien pulled out a map.

His gaze lingered on a specific location.

He had no concrete information—he wasn’t even sure if there were any members of the Salvation Order there.

But he would go anyway.

He had always moved where his instincts led him.

And strangely enough, whenever he followed that feeling, he always found the Salvation Order hiding there.

As if it was… fate.

Day by day, his sense was sharpening.

And he had been obsessing over when it had truly begun.

"Arterion."

It was ever since he had slain Arterion, the Dragon Lord, that something unknown had seeped into his body.

He still didn’t understand what it was.

But it had been invaluable in tracking down the Salvation Order.

He hadn’t found Gatros yet.

But if he kept following this path, he was sure that he would, eventually.

Julien turned his head.

He was facing the direction of Turian Kingdom.

"Ghislain…"

How was Ghislain doing?

Had he woken up?

Or was he still off causing chaos in the past?

A faint smile crossed Julien’s lips.

It had been a long time since he’d felt curious about someone’s well-being.

That kind of emotion… It had been buried for far too long.

But there was no need to worry about him.

Ghislain was stronger and more brilliant than anyone.

Just as Julien was about to move again—

A vision flashed through his mind.

It was an old memory, one that had haunted him for some time.

A faint smile.

The lips of a woman, presumably a Saintess.

"…Saving the world is not the answer."

Even now, he couldn’t understand what that meant.

There must have been more to those words.

But it was as if his mind was blocked—he couldn’t recall anything beyond that.

A sense of suffocation gripped his chest.

Like he had forgotten something precious.

His instincts screamed at him.

Telling him to find out the truth behind that vision.

Ever since Ghislain had fallen unconscious, the visions had been appearing more frequently.

There was no doubt that it was connected to Ghislain’s journey into the past.

"Gatros."

He had to find Gatros.

That man knew more about the Salvation Order than anyone.

If anyone could explain these strange occurrences, it would be him.

But if not—

Julien’s eyes turned cold.

If Gatros didn’t have the answers…

Then he would make sure he found out.

Even if it meant making him suffer a fate worse than death.