The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Nov…
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Chapter 295 Table of contents

Amelia wore a cold smile. At last, she had the perfect opportunity to strike back at that irritating man.

She’d let Ghislain do all the work, while she reaped the rewards. A setup tailored perfectly to her benefit.

“Now it’s my turn to stab you in the back, Ghislain.”

Justifications could always be made if necessary. After all, she and Desmond, at least nominally, were allies.

The pro-royalist faction wouldn’t attack her immediately either. If negotiations went smoothly, she could claim at least half of Desmond’s territory.

Not that she planned on giving up even an inch once it was in her hands.

‘The Duke’s household will have no choice but to support me.’

She had already calculated everything in her mind.

With Harold gone, the Duke’s family had no other option but to rely on her as their foothold for northern expansion. Even in the case of territorial disputes, they would actively mediate in her favor.

“Advance at full speed. No matter what, we must secure the key strongholds and fortresses before anyone else.”

Amelia had already dealt with all potential threats to her rear. Ghislain and Harold had only just finished their battle.

With nothing left to hinder her, Amelia pushed her forces to march faster.

Both the Fenris forces and the Layfold army were undoubtedly exhausted from the fighting. No matter how elite they were, accumulated fatigue couldn’t be avoided.

As night deepened, Bernarf spoke cautiously.

“We should probably rest for a while. It’s difficult to move at night, and the soldiers are quite tired.”

“Tch.”

Amelia clicked her tongue in annoyance but nodded begrudgingly.

Moving nearly 5,000 troops at once naturally came with logistical limitations.

“This will be the last rest we take. No more breaks until we occupy Desmond. At dawn, send the cavalry and knights ahead. The infantry will follow behind.”

“Yes, understood.”

Torches were set up throughout the camp, and preparations for the night were completed swiftly.

They weren’t actively at war, and there weren’t any direct enemies targeting them, so the guards maintained security at a level akin to peacetime.

While everyone else hurriedly fell asleep to prepare for the next grueling march, Amelia couldn’t afford to rest.

Inside the largest and most luxurious tent, she unfolded a map, meticulously reviewing her plans.

“Bernarf, with our current forces, it’s impossible to quickly occupy all of Desmond. Block the main routes first and— Bernarf? Are you listening to me?”

Annoyed by the silence, Amelia turned her head.

“…”

Bernarf was slumped in his chair, nodding off. Despite being assigned as her bodyguard and aide, he was fast asleep, snoring lightly.

Amelia glared at him in irritation but didn’t bother waking him up. Bernarf had been through countless hardships recently with the rebellions and civil unrest.

Even Bastet, curled up on her lap, had long since fallen into a peaceful slumber.

Sigh.

Shaking her head, Amelia turned her attention back to the map.

She was deep in thought, strategizing how to extract concessions from the Duke’s household and secure her hold over the north.

“Ghislain has become untouchable for now. But if the Duke’s household initiates a war soon…”

As she focused intently on the map—

Szzzzzzzzt.

From behind her, the shadows began to stir silently, pooling together in an unnatural way.

The space behind her distorted, taking on the faint shape of a humanoid figure.

Amelia remained completely unaware.

Bastet’s ears perked up sharply in response.

Bernarf, still slumped in his chair, appeared to be asleep, but his left thumb moved slightly, nudging the guard of his sword.

Click.

The sound of the blade shifting in its sheath coincided with—

“Meow!”

Bastet let out a sharp cry.

In the same instant, Bernarf’s right hand shot out like lightning, drawing his sword and intercepting an attack aimed at Amelia’s back.

Clang!

The metallic clash rang out loudly.

Only then did Amelia turn her head, spotting an assassin standing behind her.

Wiping a trail of drool from his mouth with his left hand, Bernarf glared at the intruder with sharp eyes.

“Hisss, who are you?”

The assassin, clad in a black robe and mask, remained silent. After their dagger was blocked, they muttered softly as they retreated a few steps.

“Hmm, as expected, it was too much.”

Amelia frowned deeply. The voice was female—one she felt she had heard before.

At that moment, the assassin’s robe flared, and dozens of daggers flew toward them.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Bernarf’s sword moved with blinding speed, deflecting every single dagger. Without hesitation, he charged forward, his sword arcing downward.

Slash!

Though the blade failed to strike the assassin directly, the sheer force of the swing sliced through their mask.

Half of the mask fell away, revealing a face adorned with a teasing smile.

The assassin, now unmasked, smiled seductively at Bernarf.

“Oh my, you’re much more capable than I thought.”

Bernarf bristled, about to retort, but Amelia’s voice cut in first.

“You!”

“Lady Amelia, it’s been a while.”

The assassin smiled brightly and waved.

Her identity was unmistakable—Belinda.

Amelia recognized Belinda instantly, and the reason was simple—she held a grudge against her. She still hadn’t forgotten the time when this insolent woman had pressed a dagger to her throat.

But knowing who the intruder was only made the situation more baffling. Why would someone as close to Ghislain as Belinda appear here?

“Why... why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I came to kill you. I’ve been waiting here all this time.”

“You came to assassinate me? Ghislain is fighting Harold, and he left me alone to come after you?”

“Young Master specifically ordered me to stall you. I would’ve preferred to join the war, but he was insistent—practically begged me to come here instead. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

Belinda spoke with a tone of mock disappointment, though her words carried a sly undertone.

She was here under Ghislain’s orders to disrupt Amelia’s advance.

Of course, Belinda had initially opposed the idea. Going up against Desmond’s 30,000-strong army was no easy feat. She had argued that it made more sense to remain at Ghislain’s side and lend her strength.

But Ghislain had sent her here regardless. His reasoning was clear: as someone specializing in assassination, Belinda’s abilities would be less effective in large-scale battles. Deploying her in a situation where she could make a significant impact was far more advantageous.

His logic was irrefutable, leaving Belinda with no room for rebuttal. She reluctantly obeyed his command.

In the time since, Belinda had been left in the dark about the outcome of the war. She had been deeply concerned, but seeing Amelia now eased her mind. The movement of Layfold’s forces could only mean that Ghislain had emerged victorious.

Amelia gritted her teeth, glaring at Belinda. Hearing something so unexpected made her head spin.

“Ghislain… that bastard… he predicted I would make a move? Even with a war against Harold looming, he sent you ahead of time?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Isn’t it incredible? How does he know these things?”

Belinda’s confident response sent a wave of shock through Amelia. It didn’t make sense.

Before Ghislain even faced Harold, Amelia had been battling Baron Valois and the Northern Alliance. Could he really have predicted that she would defeat them all, hear of his victory, and mobilize her forces immediately?

This level of foresight was impossible unless he understood her so perfectly that he could predict her every move—or, more disturbingly, as if he could read her very mind.

Amelia’s thoughts raced, replaying all of Ghislain’s past actions.

Securing the Runestone, predicting the drought, developing revolutionary technologies, preemptively countering her rebellion, and even spiriting Daven away to safety.

It was as if…

“Could that bastard see the future?”

Reflecting on Ghislain’s accomplishments, she couldn’t help but think of the rare prophets who occasionally appeared on the continent.

But even that didn’t fully explain it. No prophet, no matter how gifted, could predict the future with such precision.

“How is this even possible…?”

A shiver ran down Amelia’s spine. She didn’t know if he truly possessed clairvoyant abilities, but it was clear he had transcended the bounds of ordinary genius.

He knew something—something that allowed him to view others’ actions as if he were looking down from above, holding every move in the palm of his hand.

It felt as though she were being watched, her every step monitored.

“He must die!”

Her instincts screamed at her. Ghislain had to be eliminated. If not, she would continue to dance on his chessboard, forever at his mercy.

But before she could deal with him, there was someone else she needed to eliminate.

“I remember ordering your head to be brought to me once before. Those fools failed, didn’t they? If only they’d killed Ghislain back then.”

“Oh, that time? You must’ve been quite disappointed,” Belinda said with a sly smile.

“Yes, I was. But I didn’t expect you to come to me of your own accord. Are you here to take revenge for that? Did you really think you could assassinate me?”

Belinda shrugged with a grin.

“Well, Young Master said it would be impossible. Turns out, he was right—especially with such an impressive bodyguard at your side. When I heard the rumors, I thought he was just a fool.”

Bernarf bristled at the insult, but once again, Amelia spoke first.

“Failing to assassinate me means you can’t stop me. What can a lowly servant like you hope to achieve on her own?”

“Oh my, so confident. But you didn’t even know I was coming, did you?”

“Did you succeed in your assassination attempt?”

“It’s not over yet.”

The two women locked eyes, both smiling, though the air between them was thick with murderous intent.

The intensity of their silent battle caused Bernarf to hesitate, momentarily forgetting to attack Belinda. He was clearly uncomfortable in such situations.

“Kill her, Bernarf.”

“Meow!”

The moment Amelia and Bastet issued their commands, Bernarf moved without hesitation, his blade flashing toward Belinda.

Clang!

Belinda raised a dagger, deflecting his attack.

Bernarf struck again, his blade moving with blinding speed, scattering light in every direction.

But none of his strikes landed. He only managed to slice through the edges of Belinda’s robe.

With each swing, Bernarf’s expression grew more frustrated.

“What kind of movements are these…?”

It was as if he were fighting a ghost. Each time Belinda moved, the space around her seemed to distort, making it nearly impossible to sense her presence.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

Thwip!

From the warped space, dozens of daggers flew out each time her robe fluttered.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Bernarf retreated quickly, deflecting the incoming daggers.

The blades, connected to Belinda by nearly invisible wires, moved like living creatures, relentlessly targeting Amelia.

Defending someone against an assassin of such skill was no easy task. Bernarf stole a quick glance toward the tent’s entrance.

By now, the commotion should have drawn the attention of the soldiers outside, yet there was no sign of reinforcements.

“Are they already dead?”

Typically, knights would stand guard around Amelia, ensuring her safety. But tonight, soldiers had replaced the knights due to their need for rest.

Against an assassin of Belinda’s caliber, it wasn’t surprising if the soldiers had been silently dispatched.

Bernarf clenched his teeth, knowing the situation was partly his fault. The grueling pace of their march had forced him to prioritize rest for the knights, leaving Amelia vulnerable at a critical moment.

“Just hold on a little longer.”

Bernarf’s usual relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced by a grim focus on protecting Amelia. The knights’ tent wasn’t far—surely they would sense the disturbance and come running.

Clang!

Belinda, too, began to feel the strain.

“I didn’t expect this fool to be so skilled. I thought I’d catch him off guard, but he’s far from incompetent.”

Rumor had painted Bernarf as nothing more than a lackey trailing after Amelia. She had never imagined he’d possess such abilities.

Despite focusing entirely on protecting Amelia, Bernarf seized every opening to strike back, forcing Belinda into dangerous situations more than once.

But what was even more impressive was Amelia herself.

Even as daggers flew dangerously close to her, she didn’t so much as flinch, instead glaring at Belinda with a murderous intensity.

Belinda couldn’t help but inwardly click her tongue in amazement.

“Wow, she’s really something else.”

Amelia lacked the ability to wield mana or a weapon, yet her resolve was unshakable.

In a way, she was just as terrifying as Ghislain—but in an entirely different sense.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The clash of blades and daggers intensified, sparks flying as the two combatants moved with inhuman speed.

Though countless exchanges took place, the actual time that had passed was fleeting.

Suddenly—

Shhhkk!

The tent’s walls tore apart, and a group of knights burst inside.

“Lady Amelia!”

“Are you unharmed?”

“Kill the assassin!”

The knights charged at Belinda, swords drawn.

“Tsk.”

Belinda clicked her tongue in frustration. Fixating on an unkillable target was not the mark of a good assassin.

“Well, I suppose I’ve failed this time. But… I didn’t come alone.”

Whoosh!

Before her words finished, fires erupted across the camp, and panicked shouts of soldiers filled the air.

“Enemies!”

“Assassins have infiltrated!”

“Wake up, now!”

Unbeknownst to anyone, Ghislain had trained a secret force of assassins alongside Belinda.

Now, the assassins of Ferdium descended upon the Layfold camp, spreading chaos in every direction.

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