The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

Blood trickled from Ghislain’s mouth as he grit his teeth.

Even after reclaiming the peak of his past life’s abilities, maintaining fifth-stage power had its limits—and now, he had reached them.
“Phew...”
He staggered but managed to rise again, wiping the blood from his lips as he steadied himself.

Aiden, who had similarly retreated and spat out blood, let out a triumphant laugh, his expression alight with elation.
“Hahaha! Finally, you’re faltering! As I thought, I was always superior.”
At a glance, both combatants seemed to be in dire straits, but a closer look revealed a subtle difference: Ghislain was slightly more worn down.

This disparity was a consequence of their combat styles.
Ghislain unleashed explosive power through mana amplification, delivering overwhelming force. In contrast, Aiden dispersed the impacts to minimize damage, making him more suited for extended battles.
Step.

Aiden advanced, resuming his stance. The longer the fight dragged on, the more advantageous his endurance-oriented style became. He just needed to push a little further.
Ghislain spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his lips.
It was inevitable that his energy would deplete faster. Yet, that didn’t matter.

Aiden wasn’t unscathed—Ghislain’s devastating attacks couldn’t be completely neutralized. The residual impact had undoubtedly accumulated within Aiden’s body.
Just a little more.
In this life-or-death duel, Ghislain felt he was on the cusp of surpassing a new threshold. If he kept fighting, he would find out whether he could break through this wall—or fall short.

The two warriors moved again, each certain of their impending victory.
BOOM!
Now, with every clash of their swords, both fighters staggered. Despite their depleted states, their remaining mana allowed for bursts of tremendous power.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
They poured everything into their strikes. The intensity of their exchanges left more wounds in their wake as the residual mana blasts tore at their bodies.
BOOM!
“Ugh!”

A groan escaped, its source unclear. Once again, they separated, each coughing up blood.
Ghislain wiped his mouth and smirked.
“Hah. You’re a persistent bastard. This isn’t easy.”

Still, it was better than in his past life. Back then, he had died without even putting up a proper fight.
Aiden, gritting his teeth, responded with a twisted smile.
“You still have the energy to talk big, I see.”

At this point, Aiden was also failing to fully disperse the blows. Every strike now left visible wounds on his body.
It was evident, however, that Ghislain was the more fatigued of the two. Each attack he launched revealed subtle imperfections in his stance.
In reality, Ghislain had already reduced his core to second-stage power. Maintaining fifth-stage strength any longer would have broken his body.

But second-stage power was sufficient. Aiden was equally drained, his mana reserves nearly depleted.
The two combatants grinned savagely as they clashed once more.
BOOM!

With every exchange, the end drew nearer. Their mana reserves were almost gone, and their bodies were riddled with wounds, only narrowly avoiding fatal strikes.
Both fighters understood how close they were to their limits.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

After several exchanges, Aiden pulled back slightly.
Ghislain didn’t pursue. He, too, needed a brief moment to recover.
Aiden had stepped back for a reason: to collect himself. His current state of mind was nothing short of despair.

Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, Aiden muttered, “So I’m going to die here.”
Even if he killed Ghislain, his battered body wouldn’t allow him to escape. The enemy forces would quickly surround and overwhelm him.
Accepting this truth, Aiden inhaled deeply and straightened his posture.

Dying here was unfortunate, but it wasn’t the worst fate.
At the very least, he would leave his mark by slaying the legendary Duke of Fenris. His name would live on in history, immortalized as the man who killed one of the greatest heroes to walk the continent.
“It’s not bad,” he said softly.

Yes, it wasn’t bad at all. His legacy would shine as brilliantly as the stars in the sky.
Aiden had abandoned any lingering regrets about his life.
“I won’t die disgracefully.”

His death would be beautiful—something others would revere and praise for generations.
He raised his sword with dignity, the light of determination still burning in his eyes.
Ghislain chuckled at the sight.

“That’s a fine attitude.”
For all of Aiden’s arrogance and flaws, his unwavering conviction was something even Ghislain could acknowledge.
Aiden’s unshakable self-belief made him worthy of transcending the limits of ordinary mortals.

“I’ll give you the death you deserve,” Ghislain said, smirking.
The same kind of death that Ghislain himself had experienced in his past life—a death that would settle this long-standing grudge.
Now, it was time to see whose resolve was stronger.

BOOM!
Ghislain’s core was now reduced to its first stage. His mana reserves were nearly depleted, and so were Aiden’s.
The radiant auras of their swords had faded entirely. This was no longer a clash of raw power, but a duel of pure skill.

Swish!
Their movements defied human limits, a dance of deadly precision. Even the watching knights struggled to follow their strikes.
It was a showcase of mastery, techniques honed to perfection through countless battles.

CLANG!
Every clash of their blades was followed by immediate counters aimed at vital points.
At this point, there was no room for elaborate feints or energy-sapping techniques. Only sharp, decisive strikes mattered.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
With every blow, their wounds multiplied. Both fighters endured strikes they couldn’t fully block or evade, their bodies paying the price.
Swish!

A fresh wound opened on Ghislain’s body, but there was a difference this time.
Swish!
Two new wounds appeared on Aiden’s body.

This pattern began to repeat.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Though Aiden had held the upper hand when their mana was abundant, he was now slowly being pushed back.

His mounting anxiety was betrayed by the faint twitch of his eye.
“You... How can you wield such swordsmanship?” he demanded.
When their mana was at full strength, he had assumed they were evenly matched. But as the fight dragged on, it became clear that Ghislain’s skill was superior.

Predicting Ghislain’s movements had become nearly impossible. His strikes were erratic yet calculated, the product of countless life-and-death encounters.
“It’s unacceptable!” Aiden growled, his frustration boiling over.
He had been hailed as a prodigy of the sword since his youth, his talents nurtured and celebrated with the finest resources.

And yet, here stood Ghislain—a scoundrel from the fringes of society, a noble of a once-insignificant house—wielding a sword with greater finesse than his own.
Aiden’s disbelief was justified. The sheer weight and depth of Ghislain’s techniques were not something that could be achieved in a normal lifetime.
It was only now, with their mana depleted, that Aiden could fully grasp the truth:

In the realm of pure swordsmanship, Ghislain Fenris stood above him.
CLANG!
Ghislain's sword struck against Aiden's blade, forcing it aside and pressing forward. Aiden's expression turned panicked as he hurriedly retreated.

At last, Aiden's composure began to waver. That crack in his resolve affected his movements.
Ghislain's lips curled into a grin.
“This is a sword forged through countless encounters with death.”

It was inevitable that Ghislain would fall short in terms of raw mana. Aiden had honed his power for decades under the best conditions since his youth. Catching up to that in just a few years would be arrogant to even imagine. The only reason Ghislain could fight him at all was due to his explosive mana-enhancement techniques, achieved at great personal risk.
But swordsmanship was a different matter.
From his early days as a rookie mercenary to his rise as the Mercenary King, Ghislain had sharpened his sword through daily life-or-death battles.

And then, he had met his death.
But he overcame it through regression.
Every lesson from those experiences had been poured into his blade.

And now, within the heat of this duel, all those lessons and instincts were merging into one.
“I will ascend beyond this moment.”
Ghislain hadn’t used the amplification granted by the artifact Dark. To be precise, he couldn’t afford to. At his current limits, he could only activate it twice more before collapsing entirely. While it would grant him immense strength, Aiden could easily evade one decisive blow, and the fight would be over.

So instead, he fought without it.
Through exhausting his remaining mana, dueling Aiden, and teetering on the edge of death, Ghislain had once again broken through his limits, completing a new form of swordsmanship.
In that moment, it felt as though the voice of the blade itself resonated in his mind.

— This is the will you have forged through your life.
The sword now shared the same resolve as its master, gazing upon the world with intent.
Even without mana,

Thunk.
Ghislain advanced with a ferocious grin. His eyes began to glow once more, radiating a crimson hue.
SWOOSH!

As he moved his sword, it sounded as though the air itself was being torn apart.
Though his mana was depleted, his strikes seemed to explode with force.
His sword aligned with the very flow of the world.

It was no longer a mere weapon but a conduit for the fundamental forces of existence, guided by his unshakable will.
Slash!
The blade cut through the air, leaving a red trail behind—a stroke perfectly synchronized with the world’s natural rhythm.

This was no longer a simple tool of battle. The sword had become a living extension of Ghislain’s will, a vessel for the primal forces of existence.
Aiden’s eyes trembled as he watched the blade approach him.
What he felt in that moment was not fear, despair, or even the sting of impending defeat.

“Beautiful...”
The path of the blade was so stunningly graceful that it left him mesmerized.
Even as a genius of swordsmanship, he had never envisioned such a state of being.

To become one with the world’s flow—that was a realm attainable only by those who had stared death in the face countless times.
“Ah, so that’s what it is.”
A faint light of realization flickered in Aiden’s eyes as he stood on the brink of death.

This was the true embodiment of the laws of existence, a sublime art elevated to its highest form.
It was like the hand of an unseen god inscribing poetry into the air.
For someone who revered beauty, grace, and art as Aiden did, that sword resonated deeply within him.

And so, the emotion that filled his heart was singular.
Burning jealousy.
“I... I was not the protagonist of this world?”

The truth was incomprehensible, yet undeniable.
Before him stood a sword more powerful and beautiful than his own, its brilliance undeniable.
“I too... I too could wield such a blade...”

Aiden clenched his trembling hand around his sword.
He could do it. He had to be able to do it.
How could Fenris, a mere upstart from a backwater county, wield such an artistic blade? It was unacceptable. Aiden was superior in every way.

“I am the hero chosen by the heavens!”
He could not let himself doubt that.
Drip...

His sword began to move slowly, the air around him quivering in response.
Though faint, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» his blade started to align with the world’s rhythm.
Faced with death, Aiden’s prodigious talent illuminated a path forward, even if only momentarily.

Splurt!
Blood gushed from Aiden’s nose, ears, mouth, and eyes.
The power he was attempting to wield was not yet his to command, and the strain crushed his body.

Still, he moved his sword.
Though incomplete, his extraordinary instincts allowed him to mimic Ghislain’s technique.
Crack!

Time seemed to slow. The surroundings blurred.
Only the image of Fenris’s blade remained sharp and vivid, cutting through this transcendent realm.
The crimson arc edged closer to Aiden in the surreal stillness. Halfway into this newfound state, Aiden’s blade chased after it.

But his arm felt unbearably heavy. In this abyss-like realm, he lacked the freedom to maneuver.
Creak...
Just a little further.

If he could push just a little further...
...then perhaps, he could become a legend.
Slice!

Whoosh!
The clarity of the real world returned to Aiden’s vision.
He knew instantly what had happened.

His neck had been severed.
“Ah.”
His mind calmed. This truly was the end.

He had to remain dignified. He couldn’t afford to die disgracefully.
That was his final pride.
With his voice still intact, Aiden spoke.

“Duke Fenris.”
His head wavered slightly as his lips moved, but he continued, unyielding in delivering his last words.
“You... will become a legend.”

He was certain of it.
This war would ultimately end with Fenris’s triumph.
And so...

Thud.
Before he could finish, Aiden’s head fell to the ground.