The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary

It was now midnight.

The first day of training had come to an end, and as I watched over the trainees, their results were just as I had predicted. They had performed well enough for beginners, managing to endure both the physical drills and the lectures I’d forced upon them. But their faces told me the rest of the story — exhaustion had etched itself into their eyes, and their bodies sagged from the strain of work far beyond anything they had ever known.

Fortunately, I had prepared for this.

The potion I had them drink before they went to bed — the Revitalization Slug Potion — was something these villagers could never have even dreamed of. It was a concoction long forgotten by this era, its roots buried deep in the sands of an ancient desert kingdom, one whose legacy had nearly vanished from history.

Back then, the kingdom had ruled over thousands upon thousands of giant slaves. They had forced those giants to build monuments, to wage war, to labor until their bodies broke. To keep them from dying, the rulers had devised this potion — a drink that cleansed the exhaustion from their muscles, restored the vigor in their blood, and allowed them to continue working without rest. It was, in its own twisted way, a miracle.

I first encountered its legend while working as a mercenary, hired by a noble obsessed with exploring forgotten civilizations. That expedition had been brutal beyond words. We had fought through swarms of cursed soldiers, battled mindless giants who still guarded their lords’ graves, and clawed our way to the heart of a city buried beneath the dunes.

There, half-broken and soaked in blood, we found the knowledge the noble had so desperately sought: the formula for the Revitalization Slug Potion.

He made his fortune selling it. Tens of millions in gold changed hands because of what we had uncovered. But the true legacy of that potion was far more complicated. In the days of its original use, its power had fueled endless wars, allowing kingdoms to keep their soldiers fighting year after year. It was no healing potion. It was no balm for wounds. It was a curse that kept the dying from dying, so they could fight one more day — and die later instead.

A miracle, and a curse.

Yet for my purposes, it was perfect.

Because its ingredients were common, drawn from herbs and roots even a peasant could gather, I had no trouble reproducing it in the forest beyond the village. And thanks to it, the trainees could recover enough to face another day of training under my watch.

That freed my mind for other work — namely, the armor I still had to complete for Oxy. It had been less than a month since I made that promise, but progress was painfully slow. The training I was running for the villagers took nearly all of my energy, pushing the forging work aside.

At this pace, I would never finish within two months.

Every day seemed to tighten around me, piling on demands from every side. My own training was falling behind. The forge was days off schedule. I could barely make time for my family.

My brothers would be leaving for the city soon to pursue their education. I had barely shared any words with them these past weeks. Most days, the only chance I had to see their faces was over a rushed midday meal. And on some nights — nights like this one, when the village fell quiet and sleep overtook everyone else — I would find myself standing by their door, just to catch a glimpse of them resting peacefully.

The guilt of it all weighed on me, heavier than any sword I’d ever carried.

But I pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. There was still so much work to be done — tomorrow would come fast, and with it, more training, more pain, and more tests for every soul who had chosen to stand.

So in my free time, I kissed my sisters and brothers on their foreheads goodnight.

First was Tilly…as she was hugging a stuffed toy we bought from the city, I couldn’t help but adore her adorable self. It’s been a while…but seeing her like this, it helps calm my mind a little. Still young and innocent to the troubles of the world, her smile is what always keeps my heart at peace. So I kissed her in her cheek…near her adorable smile.

The second was Thalia…Just like Theresa who she looks up to, she’s doing her best around the house. In her free time, she uses it to spend with Tilly…because of her, I didn’t have to worry about Tilly being lonely at most days. I kissed her at her forehead, thankful for what she did.

Third was Theodore…ever since we left the city and he passed the exams, he has done nothing but prepare. Deep down, he feels a little inferior…at most, he sometimes doesn’t see his own potential…he needs the validation to keep his head straight. I’m worried…but seeing him work his best, I could see more than just the problems that this kid brings…as always, even if a country is against my little brother, I’m always by his side. So I kissed him on his head, leaving him with a prayer to bless him gentle mind.

Fourth was Thomas…Despite it all, Thomas is a responsible kid. He’s done things for himself to prepare his own future. Using his own means without my help at all…in the past, if our lives were like today…he would have been a great pastry chef. And now, he’s moving forward to places without me knowing…out of all my siblings, he’s the person who I know I could rely on if I am ever not in this world anymore. He has a head over his shoulders…so I don’t have to worry about his future at all. I kissed him by the cheek and left the room.

Finally…Theresa. Despite all that’s happened in our lives, she was the one that keeps bringing me back to a certain reality in our life. Compared to me, she was more of an elder sibling than I could ever be…she knew the responsibilities that was placed on her shoulder the moment our lives were changed. Both the past and the present…she always remained supporting me. My strong and reliable sister…I kissed her at her hand.

My siblings were the foundation that kept me whole — the unshakable pillars of my heart. The promise I had sworn to uphold in this second life remained as strong as ever: I would protect them, no matter the cost, even if it meant tearing my own body apart.

Steeling myself with that conviction, I left the quiet of the house and made my way to the forge.

The task before me was no simple labor. To craft a Willful Masterwork from the Armed-Hydragon’s remains — scales infused with violent mana and a will to resist being forged — was a challenge beyond ordinary skill. Failure meant not only wasting a priceless material, but disrespecting the life I had taken to obtain it.

If I wanted to succeed, I would have to pour everything of myself into this creation. Mind, body, and soul.

Just as I had done with my last Willful Masterwork, the Ashened Scale, I would enter a state of absolute concentration — a trance that transcended the simple motions of hammer and tongs.

Closing my eyes, I drew a long breath, letting the deep silence of the forge settle into my bones. Slowly, I felt my consciousness sink inward, descending to that sacred place within me.

There, at the very core of my being, I saw it again: the spirit of a blacksmith, a roaring brilliance forged from every triumph, every failure, every burn and scar I had endured on the anvil of my life. Its shape wrapped around my soul like living iron, pulsing with a steady, powerful rhythm.

I reached for that spirit, grasping it firmly, refusing to waver.

And as I opened my eyes once more, I felt it awaken — the true heart of a smith, burning like a furnace within my chest.

I was ready.

A Few Days Later….

The morning sun rose gently over the village, brushing the rooftops with a warm light. In front of our home, I stood by the doorway, watching as Thomas and Theodore busily packed their things into the carriage that would take them to the city.

Beside me was Evelyn, quietly holding my arm, giving me silent strength as I took in the scene.

Theresa stood close, helping fold the boys’ clothes into neat bundles, fussing over whether they had enough warm jackets. Thalia was double-checking their things, scolding Thomas for trying to sneak a wooden toy they once shared together when they were little. And little Tilly, bright-eyed and clinging to the hem of my coat, looked up at me with worry painted on her face.

“Big Brother,” she whispered, “do Thomas and Theo really have to leave?”

I knelt to her level, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’ll be back, Tilly,” I promised softly. “They’re just going to study so they can be strong, just like you and I.”

She nodded, though tears still brimmed in her eyes.

Thomas, closed the carriage trunk and turned to me, squaring his shoulders. “Brother,” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt, “T-this is it…” he said, but at the last second, he spoke nervously.

I chuckled and ruffled his hair. “It is…” I replied. “As the older one, you have to take care of Theo. Don’t let him get into trouble. Do you hear me?” I asked.

In response, Thomas just smiled confidently and spoke.

“Of course! Leave him to me.” he said. I ruffled up his hair, seeing how over-confident he was being, but nonetheless, I know these two will do fine on their own.

Theodore looked at me as he approached…slowly, he rubbed his eyes and gave me one last embrace. Tears started to fall…and in his voice, he spoke his gratitude.

“Thank you brother…without you, I wouldn’t have been able to get to do this. It is a dream come true.” he said.

“Just remember what I said. Always remember what I said.”

“…I have to show the world that I love magic, right?”

“Right…”

Evelyn, still beside me, gave Thomas and Theodore a gentle smile. “Both of you,” she said kindly, “study hard and come home proud. Your big brother will always be waiting for you.”

They nodded, the determination in their eyes making me proud beyond words.

As the driver called for them to board, Theresa squeezed their hands one last time.

“Don’t forget to write,” she reminded them.

Finally, Thomas and Theodore climbed onto the carriage, looking back at us — their family — as if trying to memorize every face.

I raised my hand in a farewell wave.

“You are my pride,” I told them firmly, “So go make something of yourselves. We will always be here for you.”

The horses started forward, and the carriage rolled down the path, carrying Thomas and Theodore away.

We stood together, all of us — Evelyn beside me, with Theresa, Thalia, and little Tilly holding hands — watching them go from the front of our home. The sunlight bathed the road in gold as the boys vanished down the bend, their laughter still lingering in the air.

In that still moment, I felt the weight of the promise I had once made in this second life.

I would protect them. Always. No matter the cost.

“Good luck to the two of you,” I whispered beneath my breath, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The day moved on.

And soon, I stood before the trainees once again. The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees around the training field, and their shadows danced across the dirt ring. One week remained.

I watched them line up in their usual rows, postures straighter than they had ever been. There was still roughness in their stances, still hesitation in some of their footwork — but no longer were they the same group of clumsy boys and jittery youths from weeks before. Their swings held intent now. Their eyes, though not sharp like warriors, no longer trembled with every command.

They weren’t adventurers, not yet. But they are now capable enough to defend the village from attacks that came from Bandits. Despite not one of them developing a core yet, I am confident ot see that they can stand their own against those who do have a core.

They were beginning to look like men who could become the pillars of safety for this village.

I let the silence hang for a moment as I looked them all over.

And then, I spoke.

“This final week will be different.”

Their attention sharpened.

“You’ve been swinging swords, lifting logs, and running until your legs gave out. You’ve sparred. You’ve learned discipline. And now, I believe some of you are ready — not to win a war, but to understand one.”

A few exchanged glances. Whispers were muffled.

“This week… you’ll be fighting monsters.”

A stunned silence swept over them.

Not one of them spoke — they were waiting, trying to understand if I was serious. I was.

“You won’t be sent to your deaths,” I said bluntly. “You’ll be guided. Watched. Protected. But you will fight. You will see what it truly means to stand before something that wants to kill you — something inhuman, unfeeling, and wild.”

Someone swallowed loudly.

I continued, “This won’t be training in a ring. This won’t be about scores or routines. It will be fear. Instinct. Survival. Think of it as hunt…but instead of being the hunter, you are the hunted.”

My gaze passed over each of them.

“Only by facing real danger will you begin to understand what this world demands of those who choose to protect others. Some of you dream of becoming adventurers…so with this exercise, you will taste the first step of becoming one.”

And then, stepping back, I gave them a final nod.

“Prepare yourselves. Today will be your last day with wooden swords.”

As the rest of the trainees dispersed to prepare themselves for the coming trials, I lingered, my eyes drawn toward two figures who remained behind — standing tall, shoulders squared, eyes unwavering.

Astin and Mario Roy.

The best of them.

Not perfect, not yet polished, but among all those I’ve trained, these two had grit… and something even rarer: resolve.

Astin stood with his arms crossed, his training gear stained in sweat and dirt, but his back never once slouched. Weeks ago, he was the first to rise, the last to sleep — a natural-born fighter who learned fast, but never let his pride get in the way of discipline.

And then there was Mario.

Still thin, still bearing the signs of a body weakened from years of illness… but that didn’t stop him. In fact, he was the only one to swing his sword until he fainted — not once, not twice..but more times than I can count with my hands. And each time he fell, he rose stronger. And in the past week of training, he has now grown strong enough to even run side by side with the other trainees without falling behind.

I stepped forward and motioned them both to follow me.

They fell in behind without question.

We walked past the training grounds, into the shade of the trees where the sun barely reached.

Then I stopped and turned.

“You two,” I began, “are different.”

Neither spoke — they only listened.

“Astin, your instincts are sharp. You think ahead, you control your fear, and your sword strikes with precision. If we were on a battlefield today, you’d already be fit to stand beside a real adventurer…”

He blinked, clearly surprised by the praise. I didn’t often hand it out.

“And Mario…” I looked to him. His posture had improved. His hands were no longer calloused from struggle, but from work. “You have a different kind of strength. Not the kind that breaks stone — but the kind that refuses to be broken. That kind is rarer than you know. In time, you might even become the strongest among the boys in our group.”

Mario swallowed, his jaw trembling for a moment before he steadied himself.

“I’m putting the both of you under silent observation this final week,” I continued. “Not just as trainees… but as potential leaders.”

Their eyes widened.

“You’ll be watched. Tested. I want to see how you act when others are afraid. I want to see if you’ll keep your heads when things go wrong. Because out there — in the forest, facing real monsters — they will go wrong.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice.

“If you fail, no shame will follow you. But if you succeed… then you’ll walk out of here not just as survivors of training — but as something more.”

I turned, but paused for one last word.

“Rest well today. From tomorrow onward… I won’t be holding your hands anymore.”

Then I left them in the quiet, the sounds of the forest whispering all around.

***

As the two stood side by side, watching the last light of day bathe the horizon in orange, they both exhaled a long breath — a quiet moment of shared relief.

Mario glanced at the sky before turning to Astin.

“…Out of everyone,” he said, his voice quiet with disbelief, “he chose us.”

Astin nodded, though his brow remained furrowed. “Yeah. And with how serious he looked, I’ve got a feeling this next week is going to be the hardest trial yet.”

Mario looked thoughtful. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

“I’m not sure,” Astin replied, folding his arms. “We’ve spent the past few weeks stuck in the barracks — drills, lectures, training… No idea what’s happening outside these walls. Maybe we’re being sent to hunt something that’s been terrorizing the outskirts.”

Mario’s eyes lit with realization. “He did say it would last a whole week. Do you think that means we’re leaving the barracks? Maybe heading into the wilderness? His last lecture was about surviving in monster-infested zones… building shelters, setting up camp, moving in squads.”

“Whatever it is,” Astin said firmly, “we’ll have to be ready. No slacking. Not now.”

Mario nodded. “Right. We’ve come too far to fall short now.”

As their conversation continued under the fading sky, elsewhere in the barracks, Thill sat alone in his office, his sharp gaze fixed on a large board pinned with diagrams, maps, and hand-written schedules — the entire plan for the final exam week laid out in meticulous detail.

Across from him, Evelyn sat comfortably in a chair, sipping tea as she followed his gaze, scanning the plans they had spent long nights perfecting together.

As the last rays of sunlight stretched across the floor, Thill sighed, rubbing his temple.

“So,” he asked, “what do you think?”

Evelyn set her teacup down with a quiet clink and smiled.

“It’s solid,” she replied. “We’ve taken every precaution. The tests will push them — teach them how to hunt monsters, protect civilians, and survive outside the village. If they’ve paid attention to your lectures, they’ll be fine.”

Thill leaned back slightly in his chair. “I hope so. This is the final stretch… and after this week, the training officially ends and the company will now officially start.”

He paused, his tone softening just a bit.

“I know most of them will leave — head to the city, join the adventurer guilds, chase fame and coin. I was hoping to convince at least half to stay, join the village guard. We pay well. We feed them. We offer stability. Isn’t that enough?”

Evelyn looked at him with quiet understanding.

“You can’t chain down ambition, Thill. Some of them were always meant to go. But the ones who stay… they’ll get something even rarer — a mentor who actually knows what he’s doing. You’ve done more than train them. The ones who’ll stay will learn more by your side than those who go out to the world.”

Thill’s gaze returned to the planning board, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the markers for the final week.

“I guess…” he muttered, “by the end of this, we’ll know just how much they’ve really taken to heart.”

Evelyn took another slow sip of her tea, then asked, “And after this? What do you plan for the village once the company disbands?”

Thill leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ve been thinking of making some improvements around the village.”

“Improvements?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you remember?” he said with a small grin. “I once mentioned I wanted to buy a mountain.”

Evelyn blinked. “Oh. That old plan?”

He nodded. “It’s been a long time… but I finally remembered which mountain it was.”

“Seriously?” she asked, half-curious, half-amused. “You actually found it again?”

“Yeah,” Thill said, his voice gaining a hint of certainty. “It’s not exactly famous, doesn’t even have a name. The distance alone is just two towns over…but buying the mountain will greatly improve the village both in security and resource.”

Evelyn leaned forward a bit. “So, what’s the next step?”

“I’ll go visit it and negotiate with the owner once the training ends. With things settled, I’ll finally have the time to move forward.”

She nodded approvingly. “If you’re sure about this… then do it. And when you do, use our family’s name in the paperwork.”

Thill blinked in surprise. “You sure?”

She smiled. “It’ll make the process smoother. The name Amber still carries weight in this region. If you’re going to buy a mountain… you might as well make it official.”

Thill looked at her, his smile subtle but grateful.

Thill stood from his chair and stretched a little, glancing once more at the board filled with scribbled notes, maps, and lists. Then he looked at Evelyn.

She was still sipping her tea, calm and steady as always — the one person who had stayed beside him through everything.

“Thanks… for always helping out,” he said, his voice softer now.

Evelyn looked at him, raising an eyebrow with a small smile. “Someone has to make sure you don’t collapse from overwork.”

Thill chuckled under his breath. Then, without thinking too hard about it, he stepped closer to her and gently leaned in. Evelyn blinked, surprised, but didn’t pull away as he kissed her — a brief, quiet kiss that said more than any words could.

When he pulled back, he gave a small, sheepish smile. “Just… thank you.”

Evelyn looked at him, then let out a soft laugh. “Took you long enough.”

They both laughed quietly.

“Come on,” she said, setting her cup down and standing beside him. “Let’s go home.”

Together, they stepped out of the office and into the cool night. The stars were out, the village peaceful, and for a little while, everything felt calm.

Side by side, they walked down the quiet path toward home — not saying much, but knowing exactly what the other was thinking.