The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 452: Another Secret Weapon (2)

Gathros’s suggestion left Raul looking utterly baffled.

“A decoy? Are you saying we should attempt an assassination right now?”

“Something along those lines,” Gathros replied nonchalantly, clearly detached from the complexities of reality.

Raul shook his head, frustration evident in his expression. “Do you honestly think that would work? If it were that simple, we would’ve tried it already. Unless the man is an idiot, luring him out won’t be possible.”

Count Fenris was a Master. To assassinate someone of his caliber, several superhuman-level figures from the Ducal faction would need to work together. Even if they managed to infiltrate and reach their target, Fenris’s forces—composed of highly skilled knights and formidable soldiers—would never make it easy.

And if their top-tier operatives were annihilated in the attempt? That would effectively end the war in Fenris’s favor.

Raul’s pragmatic assessment was met with a slow shake of the head from Gathros.

“I’m not saying we need to kill Count Fenris. What about targeting the Marquis of Ferdium or his brother instead?”

Raul’s brows furrowed further. “Killing them wouldn’t change much. It might even backfire—Fenris would be enraged and likely fight us to the death. Unless we completely destroy Ferdium, such assassinations would achieve nothing.”

Mid-sentence, Raul paused, a sudden realization dawning on him. He nodded slowly.

“You’re suggesting we create a distraction.”

“Exactly,” Gathros said, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “Remember during the barbarian invasion? Count Fenris himself eventually had to step in. There’s no reason we can’t replicate that. If it weren’t for Amelia, that plan might have succeeded back then.”

“Hmm...”

“We don’t even need to divert the entirety of his northern forces. If Count Fenris leaves his army to rescue his family, that alone counts as a success.”

The idea sounded plausible at first glance, but Raul, considering the objective circumstances and their resources, shook his head again.

“It won’t work with just any assassins. And this is a war. Even getting assassins into Ferdium will be nearly impossible.”

Historically, monarchs were most wary of assassination attempts. As such, noble residences were fortified with unparalleled security, their defenses reinforced over generations. Assassination might not even be a recognized method of warfare among nobles, but its odds of success were universally low.

Raul wanted nothing more than to assassinate Ghislain outright, but if that had been feasible, it would have happened long ago.

Raul addressed this very point. “Ferdium has grown significantly stronger compared to before. Even if we send elite assassins, they’d be intercepted before reaching the territory.”

Count Fenris had revolutionized the way mana cultivation techniques were practiced, leading to an increase in knights and soldiers. Security checkpoints across the region were tighter than ever, and nobles, wary of attacks, had heightened their defenses to the extreme.

“Despite his reputation for reckless behavior, Count Fenris has shown remarkable precision in his actions. It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t have fortified his family against such threats.”

It was near impossible for a small group of assassins to infiltrate and kill their target. Most wouldn’t even make it to the domain without being apprehended.

Even Lavier, who had reached superhuman levels, had been forced to flee and ultimately met his end while hiding.

Gathros was aware of these difficulties, but he wasn’t banking on outright success. “We’ll have to sacrifice something equally valuable on our side. We need a piece capable of both infiltrating Ferdium and provoking Count Fenris into action.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Raul asked, his tone wary.

“The Black Moon.”

“...Gathros. You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? There’s a group within the Ducal faction that operates from the shadows. They’re said to have been skilled enough to eradicate the shadows guarding Ruthania long ago. We even saved their leader once. We can leverage that favor.”

Raul immediately shook his head. “That’s impossible. They’re loyal to the Ducal family. Count Balzac would never approve of this.”

“But His Highness would,” Gathros argued, undeterred. “Wasn’t their leader kept alive solely to be used as a disposable tool? It’s time we put him to work.”

“...”

“For the greater cause, we must be willing to sacrifice them. Spread rumors of the assassination plot. If Count Fenris wants to save his family, he’ll have no choice but to move.”

“...”

“And if we’re lucky, Count Fenris and the Black Moon might destroy each other. They are the kingdom’s finest assassins, after all.”

“Gathros, this is far too reckless...”

“And what if we strike while he’s distracted?”

Gathros’s eyes gleamed with fervor. He cared little for the sacrifices of others, his mind consumed only by thoughts of seizing the capital and the royal treasures as quickly as possible.

He pressed Raul further. “It’s a one-time gamble, but the Black Moon’s leader is a superhuman. No matter how prepared Count Fenris might be, he won’t sit idly by if he hears a superhuman is targeting his family.”

“...”

“Fenris will have no choice but to act. And with him gone, his northern forces won’t stand a chance against our high priests and the Ducal army.”

The argument had merit, forcing Raul into deep contemplation.

The northern army would relocate to a secure location once they dealt with the eastern Rift. They wouldn’t be able to regroup with the allied forces on the front lines. That left only the kingdom’s troops to defend the southern front.

If they advanced east to draw out part of the royal forces while launching an open assassination attempt in Ferdium, Count Fenris would be forced to choose—aid the east or rescue his family.

‘Either way, he’ll have to move, leaving the northern forces vulnerable.’

With Fenris out of the picture, no one would be left to stop the Ducal faction’s high priests and army from advancing on the capital. The royal family’s downfall would be inevitable.

Raul finally nodded in agreement. “It might be possible if the Black Moon moves. We’ll have to use our final card to protect this place, but...”

“If the plan works, no one will be left to enter here anyway,” Gathros countered. “Everyone will be focused on retaking the capital.”

“Hmm...”

“Sending assassins to stir chaos across the kingdom would also help. While we might not eliminate high-ranking nobles, we could easily target lower officials and minor aristocrats.”

“You mean to increase Count Fenris’s paranoia regarding assassinations.”

“Exactly. Leak rumors, spread intel—anything to make him act.”

Raul weighed the risks and benefits. The Duke would undoubtedly approve of the plan; he cared little for his own safety. Eventually, Raul sighed and nodded.

“Fine. We’ll proceed. I’ll refine the details further.”

The Black Moon’s leader might be a superhuman, but Raul couldn’t guarantee their ability to kill Count Fenris. Even sending a superhuman didn’t ensure success, and dispatching anyone less capable was pointless.

Still, if the plan lured Count Fenris out, it would be worth the cost. And if the assassins perished alongside him, all the better.

“You’ve made the right choice,” Gathros said with a satisfied grin.

Raul turned to his aides. “Prepare a meeting with the Black Moon’s leader.”

The Black Moon assassins operated from the Ducal stronghold, Eclipse, constantly monitoring the castle’s affairs. Their leader resided deep within the estate’s subterranean chambers.

Raul traversed a maze-like path, arriving at a stone chamber. He opened the heavy door.

Creak...

At the center of the dark chamber lay a magic circle, exuding an aura similar to that of the Rifts. The surrounding corpses only heightened the resemblance. However, this circle differed in its smaller scale and its focus—channeling energy into the figure sitting atop it.

The man was completely wrapped in bandages, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. With every breath, black energy seeped from his body, swirling ominously around him.

“Melkir,” Raul called.

The man known as Melkir opened his eyes, exhaling harshly like grinding metal.

“Is His Highness in danger?”

“No.”

“Has the castle been breached?”

“Not that either.”

At that moment, Melkir’s form blurred, merging with the shadows around him.

Whoosh!

Thick shadows swirled, and Melkir appeared before Raul, exuding a menacing aura. His voice, low and guttural, rumbled like a growl.

“So... have you found that woman? The one who did this to me?”

Raul shook his head. “No. That was twenty years ago. No traces have been found, nor any signs of activity. At this point, it’s safe to assume she’s dead.”

“Can you be certain?”

“She was said to have been gravely injured, her mana core shattered. No one could survive long in such a state.”

“That woman was born with divine power. Even if her core was destroyed, she wouldn’t die so easily.”

“Even so, it’s unlikely she could have survived such wounds. If she had made any moves, our information network would have detected her by now.”

“She was an assassin who used techniques similar to mine. Are you sure you’ve found nothing?”

Raul hesitated for a moment, considering.

‘There was someone in Fenris...’

Among the figures investigated by the intelligence department, there had been someone who used similar techniques. However, the age and timeline didn’t match, nor did the hair color. The woman Melkir sought had been blonde, but the individual in question was not.

‘No, there are plenty of assassins of that caliber in other kingdoms. Like the leader of the Rayfold Wildcat Smuggling Ring.’

Assassins often used similar techniques, and Raul saw no need to confuse matters with baseless speculation. He shook his head firmly.

“She’s dead. It’s certain. There’s no need to dwell on this any longer.”

“...Is that so.”

Melkir fell silent for a moment.

In truth, even he suspected the person he was looking for was dead. But the desire for vengeance against the one who had left him in this state lingered—an urge to settle the score from his crushing defeat.

Yet, it seemed she had succumbed to her injuries and departed from the world long ago.

Calming his emotions, Melkir’s voice grew somber. “...Then, why have you come?”

“There’s a target we need you to eliminate.”

“So, it’s finally time to use this life of mine.”

“...A life barely held together, but you can still put it to use one last time.”

It was the Duke of Delphine and the priests of the Salvation Order who had kept Melkir alive. Letting someone of his caliber—a Master of over two decades—die would have been a waste.

They had kept him tethered to life, not allowing him to pass on, just to wield his unparalleled skills once more.

Melkir nodded without protest. “Very well. I can fight one more time before I die.”

He had resigned himself to being the Duke’s hidden blade, tasked with eliminating the Duke’s enemies. That was his fate and duty. After sustaining incurable injuries, his mission had shifted to protecting the Duke’s household, but his true work had always been assassination.

“Who’s the target? I hope it’s someone worthy of my final fight.”

“Count Ghislain.”

Melkir’s eyes narrowed slightly, disappointment flickering in his gaze.

“A name I’ve never heard before.”

“That’s because he emerged while you were resting here.”

“What’s his skill level?”

“A Master.”

At that, Melkir’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his disappointment giving way to delight. A Master-level opponent would indeed make for a worthy finale. A prey of such caliber deserved something more than a quick death. That would be far too boring.

He licked his lips, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “Does he have a family?”

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“A father and a younger brother.”

“Then I’ll start with them, as I always do. Watching someone of his skill suffer is an art form. I’d like my name to be remembered before I go.”

Melkir prided himself on his cruel artistry. He believed that slowly dismantling an opponent’s world, one cherished life at a time, was the pinnacle of beauty.

Though he hadn’t indulged in this twisted pleasure for over twenty years, ever since his defeat, the hunger for it had not faded.

Raul matched Melkir’s sinister smile. “We were going to ask you to do just that. The longer this drags out, the better for us. Kill anyone you can—family, servants, anyone.”

“Should I move now?”

“No, wait until the priests have gathered, and the war officially begins. This plan was conceived recently, so we need time to organize.”

Raul’s smile widened. He had just played one of their strongest cards, a trump saved for the perfect moment.

This time, even Count Ghislain wouldn’t escape unscathed.

Melkir, his voice low and menacing, gave a slight bow. “Very well. I’ll make sure this fight is worth the wait.”