Novel & Cerita The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations Novel

“That man is the Mercenary Emperor! Even though we have destroyed the Caesar Mercenary Corps, as soon as he puts out the order, there will definitely be many international mercenary corps that would do his bidding and rush over to carry out his order.” A bead of cold sweat slid from Cohen’s forehead. He had no idea what he should do about it. Before this, he had a moment of pleasure when he destroyed the Caesar Mercenary Corps, but now the consequences were back to bite him in the back. Cohen tried to convince himself not to be afraid of Regal Palace because this was his turf, and Blonde Jack’s group supported his group. Therefore, he should not be worried at all. Still, due to unknown reaso

She flinched, trying to rise, but her legs buckled. “Stay down,” I hissed, sliding between her and the oncoming light. My shadows unfurled, a living cloak wrapping her in smoke and silence. The crypt swallowed us whole. I could feel her heat against my back, her pulse stuttering like a trapped bird. My hunger sharpened on it, cruel and insistent. The first mercenary rounded the corner. My blade kissed his throat before he could shout, shadows pulling him into the dark. His body hit the stones with a wet crack. Another came, then two more. I cut them down without hesitation, the crypt running slick with blood.

Rodney. The death of another servant didn’t horrify me. Instead, I stared at the frozen corpse lying at my feet and sighed. The young man who couldn’t have been older than twenty had delivered a report to me and I lost control when he accidentally mentioned another failed lead. My men had just finished following a new lead which had led to finding another woman who wasn’t the elusive Fireheart. I lost my temper and the stupid curse took over. Ice spread through the room and now the body was frozen on the floor.

“Push them back! We take ground!” We advanced inch by bloody inch, using the the pillars for cover, exchanging controlled fire with the now-disorganized mercenaries. The combined, synchronized aggression of the two families was overwhelming. Micardo, sensing his position crumbling, finally showed himself again. He stepped out from behind the cover of a scorched, bullet-ridden SUV. Rage burned in his eyes, a desperate, cornered animal’s fury. “This changes nothing!” he shouted. “I still own you all! I own the past! I own the rules!”

It was the perfect spot for a non-magical ambush. Too late, her instincts screamed. This is a trap. She expected the dampening of magic, but didn't account for her own fatigue. As soon as she realized the danger, she found herself surrounded. Three huge wolves-heavy-set shifters, not Shadow Wolf followers-descended from the high ridges. Their scent carried the same familiar mineral smell as Torvin's scout. They were led by a tall, grim man with his pack markings cut away, showing he was a mercenary. "The hunt is over, Healer," the mercenary growled, his voice deep and rough. "The Shadow Wolf wants you alive and intact. Drop the satchel and your magic."

‘Explain later,’ he replied, rubbing his temples from Fafnir’s voice suddenly assaulting him, after a second of breaths he was able to calm himself and look closely at the formation of blackguards and necromancers from his new perspective, Sküülen was slowly getting to her feet when a weary blackguard noticed them as he switched out with his replacement, it seemed the pure shock that an intruder was inside of their lines seemed to slow his mental processing of the situation, Rex noticing the Sky Army still bombarding them from above, so he guessed it must have only been a few seconds here, ‘Strange, felt like ages, I’ll talk to Sküülen about that later if I make it through this,’ he decided.

He stepped into the light, his blood-soaked shirt showing the true price of his survival, but his stormy gray eyes were completely locked on the intruder. The mercenary didn't flinch. He took one slow step backward toward the edge of the balcony, a wicked, sociopathic smile cutting through his dark mask. "Gideon Ross sends his regards, Mr. Blackwood. If I fall off this ledge, the child falls with me." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw little Julian reach his chubby fingers out from under the blue blanket, his big gray eyes wide with fear. The corporate war was over, but the primitive battle for our sons' lives had just reached its absolute breaking point.

The chamber smelt like coal masked with an expensive lily deodorant, enough to mess up the respiratory organs, but I have gotten quite used to it. “Since you can't seem to weaken Darknile's growing soldiers, you could as well weaken Crescent, don't you think?” I asked, and Micah shifted a bit from where he stood. My eyes landed on the shotgun he held close to himself. I scoffed internally, then turned my back to him. “Since it's also your home pack, killing off its soldiers shouldn't be hard, should it?” “You are asking me to kill my own people?” I paused, then sneered. “Your people? Should I remind you that you are nothing but a traitor’s grandson? Do they even care if you live or die?”

" As soon as she finished speaking, the pressure around my throat eased. I grabbed her by the collar. "What exactly is going on?" Joyce smiled. "I thought you'd get on your knees and beg for mercy." She pushed my hand away and straightened up, looking down at me with open disdain. "Melanie, you're destined to be nothing but a tool for me. Once you're ruined and dead, everything you have will be mine." She left the ward, leaving me completely lost. Once I was dead, there'd be nothing left to take.

Victoria shrieked, stumbling backward toward the sealed elevator doors. The second mercenary spun violently toward the staircase, pulling the trigger of his tactical rifle. The deafening roar of automatic gunfire shredded the dark, the muzzle flashes blindingly strobing as he unloaded an entire magazine into the empty shadows. Bullets tore through the mahogany railing and shattered the plaster, filling the air with dust. When his rifle clicked empty, the mercenary gasped for breath, his flashlight trembling as he aimed it at the ruined staircase. There was no blood. There was no body.