Mercenary Enrollment Light Read Novels & Stories

This Oryn thought he was unlovable. She raised her hands. She didn't wave. She moved her fingers in a fluid, complex pattern. < Your angle is wrong. You're grinding the bevel too steep. > Oryn froze. The whetstone clattered to the floor. He stared at her hands. Then he stared at her face. His grey eyes were wide, the pupils blown with shock. It wasn't standard ASL. It was Mercenary Sign. A dead language from the trenches of the Euro-Wars. A dialect used only by the unit Oryn had served in. A unit that was entirely dead.

The gunship shuddered as the landing thrusters engaged. "Deployment in sixty seconds," Ryan announced. "The camp is designated 'Sanctuary Zero.' The Southern Alpha, Marek, is waiting on the pad. Phoenix... if you walk out there and your arm flares, the Mercy Alliance ends. They will see you as the monster the Council promised." "I’ll wear the shroud," I said, my jaw tightening until I heard the bone grind.

Watching the world move forward while I stayed frozen in place — still the girl who had failed her coming-of-age ceremony, still the girl no one wanted. I had thought about leaving more times than I could count. But where would I go? My father was beta. His name — my name — was known across every neighbouring pack. If I crossed into another territory without permission, I would be treated as a rogue. Caught, punished, or worse. I was trapped. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. I had almost closed my eyes when my phone buzzed. A message from Gianna — the only friend I had left in this pack. She was an omega, which in Night Howl wa

Campfires give the gathered mercenaries and conscripts rigorously schooled in readiness for what was to come to a vivid, hellish glow. These were my wild cards hardened fighters and killers bound by no specific loyalty or code but the coin I had obtained. A necessary evil to be used when even the possibility of violence against our people becomes a reality too indisputable to ignore. Before Kavrin's austere voice reached my ears, I sensed more than what the heavy step of boots crushing through the dried earth suggested. "The last units you asked for have arrived and are waiting for deployment orders, sir."

“Well, it seems that many people can’t wait to begin. The tournament will begin soon. Before we start, let me explain the rules first. To be fair, each mercenary team can send only two people to participate in the tournament and the participants must not exceed 40 years old." Then, he raised his hand. "Well, the tournament has started! Whoever wants to be the first to take on the challenge, please come up." "I'll go first!" a voice shouted, then a figure appeared on the stage. He had thick eyebrows, big eyes and a formidable aura. The man saluted with his hands held together. "I’m Laird Jenmic from the Red Leaf Mercenary Team. Which one of you will come up for a match?" After a short silence

"You're Jason Leigh, right? Human resources informed me that you're only a high school graduate. Do you really understand all this?" "I used to be a mercenary," I corrected him in a calm but clear voice. Tony was taken aback, but he quickly laughed out loud. His laugh was so loud that it echoed throughout the workshop. The people standing next to him laughed along. "What's a mercenary doing here as a stockkeeper? Who would believe you, Leigh?"

Noah ignored the weird gazes that were directed at him as he walked into the Mercenary Association building. The man at the receptionist's desk glanced at Noah's short figure with narrowed eyes before letting out a sly smile. "Registration?" "Hmm." Noah's voice, due to his disguise, came out thick and hoarse befitting a middle aged dwarf. The man's smile widened as he nodded. "A mercenary's registration is fairly simple. You must be above the 5th Level of the Novice Stage, you must boast of a decent level of battle experience which will be proven by battling a registered Mercenary. And for the last..." A greedy light flashed in the man's eyes as he proceeded to explain the last requirement.

He could not help but feel a little angry. Immediately afterward, he said arrogantly, “Ten Thousand Armies is a mercenary organization that has gathered all of the top mercenaries in the world together. Many of our soldiers are soldiers who have served in the special forces in their countries. More than half of Hamed’s soldiers are illiterate. So, how can this possibly be the same thing? The difference between these two is even bigger than the difference between the United States and Zimbabwe!”