The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations Novel Novels & Stories

The image, though grainy, clearly showed the devastating efficiency of the Mercenaries’ attack. Explosions rocked the compound, fires raged, and the shadowy figures of the Serpent’s Hand moved with chilling precision, overwhelming the Romano guards, their movements swift, brutal, undeniable. The mercenaries launched a swift and brutal attack on a Romano outpost, demonstrating their deadly efficiency, a chilling prelude to the inevitable, brutalconfrontation that now awaited Violet, a profound promise of a desperate, ruthless struggle for survival.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed ins

The garrison troops inside the watchtowers didn't even have time to stoke their boilers; they were dragged from the high platforms, their crimson coats torn to rags as the absolute fury of three decades of enslavement broke over them like a tidal wave. Inside the hall, the remaining five mercenaries realized the valley had flipped into a slaughterhouse. They tried to retreat toward the rear exit, but the silver-furred mountain trackers blocked the threshold, their composite bows drawn taut. Five heavy arrows, wrapped in lard-soaked rags, tore through the darkness, striking the exposed neck-seams of the mercenaries' plate armor. The men collapsed in a chaotic pile of dented steel and smoking

She was very wrong. “What do you mean by that! Y- You crazy girl! You’ve basically made a pact with devil! I told you not to speak to that man!” Her pale face was ashen, her hands clutched her head at her approaching migraine, but most of all, she prominently glared at Alexis. Then as if losing all hope her hands fell dramatically to her side, “The Kaedmen Empire has no hope…” she muttered with desolate eyes that stared up at the ceiling, searching for some kind of light. Hector was also exactly the same, except a much more milder version. He pinched the bridge of his nose with an annoyed expression as he summoned mountains of book. Some related to Vampires and others that might just help th

A mercenary in heavy armor reached inside, grabbing the silver briefcase. "Package secured!" the mercenary yelled through his radio. Despite their efforts, the mercenaries secure the EMP briefcase yet again and vanish in an armored convoy. Marcus let out a roar of absolute fury, but his body wouldn't obey. He could only watch through his fading vision as the heavy armored vehicles sped away into the thick night fog, leaving behind a trail of burning metal, smoke, and blood.

His silver-mesh armor was caked in white alkali dust and the fresh blood of the resistance fighters, his amber eyes completely swallowed by the pitch-black void of his feral beast as his dark scent of cedar and copper flared intensely through the plaza. "The frontline border guards didn't just fall back, Lyra," Killian growled low, his deep, chest-vibrating voice dropping into a register that made the loose iron framework of the vault rattle in its hinges. He didn't look back, but his massive, calloused hand slid violently around my waist, his thick fingers digging deep into the leather of my trousers to pin my hips hard against his frame for a heavy, possessive second—a public reassertion o

He nodded once and left. --- The warehouse district was all concrete and shadows, the kind of place where business was conducted away from prying eyes. Dante arrived to find his men had already secured five of Caruso's soldiers, forced to their knees in the center of the warehouse floor. He approached them slowly, jacket removed, sleeves rolled up. All business. "You made a mistake," he said simply. The man in the center, older, with a scar across his cheek—sneered. "The only mistake was you thinking the Valerios could hold the Eastern routes. That territory should be ours."

The wound on my side was already healing, my wolf's regenerative abilities kicking in. Phantom pressed his muzzle against mine, a wolf's gesture of comfort and reassurance. Then he was moving again, positioning himself between me and the remaining rogues. The battle didn't last much longer. Marcus's wolf—a massive silver beast—arrived with reinforcements, and the rogues realized they were outnumbered. The two that could still run fled back across the border. The others lay dead or dying. Phantom shifted back to human form, unconcerned with his nudity, reaching for me. "Wren. Let me see."

My pulse roared in my ears. Suddenly, I remembered we shared location access. My fingers moved before my brain could stop them and the screen loaded slowly. Hotel Meridian. My stomach dropped. Maybe it was still the meeting. Maybe… A notification popped up on the linked device. A new message preview. My breath stopped. I’m glad you’re back, V. I’ve missed you. I’ll be at Meridian Hotel. See you there. The world tilted violently. V. The same initial from the letters. My hands began to shake.

Xavier (eyes darting around): "Did you hear that?" Ceres (drawing closer to him): "They're not echoes. They're names. They're... remembering themselves." Suddenly, a shadow shifts from behind a collapsed pillar and retreats. Not a ghost. Something alive. Maera (standing quickly): "We're not alone anymore. The past... it knows we're here." The East Burns Far East. Night. A decaying fortress repurposed by mercenaries. Arion stands before a brazier, its flames casting a molten halo across his cruel smile. Around him: rogue alphas, flame clerics, and foreign warlords.