股票配资炒股

Seated on a massive horse, he was flanked by a throng of rough-looking men.

Their attire varied wildly, as did their weapons. This was no ordinary army; they looked more like a ragtag band of outlaws.

But the aura they exuded was overwhelming, enough to shake the very earth.

Though the world was still steeped in despair, none of it registered in the mind of the Mercenary King.

His past regrets, melancholy, and feelings of futility threatened to devour him from within, but he suppressed all of it, leaving only one emotion burning brightly in his heart.

Vengeance.

With tremendous power and an army at his back, he finally drew his sword—aimed at the ones who had killed his people, his friends, and his family.

And thus, his army marched toward the kingdom.

— Grrrrk…

The malevolent spirit groaned in agony. The Mercenary King’s emotions were too vast and profound for it to handle.

But the king possessed the mental fortitude and willpower to contain those emotions. He had lashed himself forward endlessly, driving himself to this moment.

As he faced his powerful enemies, his despair began to transform.

Crunch!

Each time he exposed his teeth in a wicked grin and cut down his enemies, the spirit trembled violently.

Euphoria.

With every target of his vengeance slain, the Mercenary King laughed.

— W-Who is this man…?

Corpses began piling up around him, one after another. Before long, the bodies formed mountains, and the rivers ran red with their blood.

Through the endless sea of corpses marched the Mercenary King’s army. At the sight of their banners, enemies fell to their knees, trembling in terror.

The Mercenary King always led from the front, his blazing red eyes shining as he cut through his foes like a vengeful deity. No one could stand against his army.

Their tactics and strategies didn’t matter. They annihilated their enemies with relentless, overwhelming force.

However, the kingdom they faced had far greater resources and manpower.

Wave after wave of enemy reinforcements came crashing down on the Mercenary King’s army, whittling away at their numbers. The bodies piled higher and higher, turning the crimson field into a grotesque landscape of death.

The Mercenary King’s forces dwindled, and though their enemies also suffered losses, they had the advantage of greater reserves.

The endless battle wore his soldiers down, isolating them further.

Even though they had pushed the kingdom to the brink of collapse, they lacked the foundation to sustain a prolonged war.

After days of fighting, the wounded and exhausted Mercenary King finally fell to his knees.

Before him stood a man as powerful as himself, pointing a sword at his throat.

— "I never imagined you’d be a survivor of House Ferdium."

Only then did the Mercenary King realize that the Duke wasn’t acting alone—there were other forces at work. He needed more preparation, more information. But his army was decimated, and he himself was at his limit.

[I wasn’t prepared enough.]

A flood of emotions consumed him once again.

Regret. Futility. Frustration. Despair.

But in the end, what remained was the same as always—a fire that refused to be extinguished.

Rage.

He recalled the words of a close friend.

— "They say there’s such a thing as being reborn."

[If I could be reborn, I would tear you all apart.]

Slice!

The Mercenary King’s final thought was followed by the cold sensation of his head being severed.

Darkness enveloped him.

The spirit quivered in the void, unable to comprehend what it had just witnessed.

— D-Dead? Then what is this person?

In the nothingness, the spirit was left with no direction, no purpose.

Then—

Flash!

Light burst forth as the world shifted once more. The spirit reeled, unable to regain its bearings.

The body it inhabited was suddenly young again, as if time had reversed itself.

This time, the man walked a different path.

He knew the strength of his enemies and the existence of those pulling the strings from the shadows. Armed with memories from his past life, he began to prepare.

— This… this is impossible.

The spirit could not believe what it was witnessing. How could a man possibly return to the past?

The man hunted orcs, saved his brother, and prevented a war.

He exterminated monsters, amassed wealth, built an army, developed new technologies, and strengthened his territory. With this newfound power, he hunted down his enemies one by one.

— This is beyond belief.

Even as the spirit witnessed the world change before its eyes, it refused to accept it.

Knowing everything in advance, the man’s plans unfolded almost perfectly. Minor deviations occurred, but he had the experience and knowledge to adapt, along with skilled allies by his side.

Step by step, he weakened his enemies and rose to become a mighty lord—an entirely different outcome from his previous life.

Even now, he continued to prepare for his next confrontation with a powerful foe. This time, he grew stronger at an even faster pace, and nearly everything fell within his calculations.

The memories ended where the man reached the tower where Edwin was imprisoned.

Flash!

The world changed again. In the barren mental landscape, the Mercenary King stood alone once more.

But this time, something was different.

A single tree stood before him.

What began as a sapling in the desolate earth had grown into a large tree over the course of his memories.

It was the only thing in this wasteland that brought him solace.

As he gazed at the tree, he felt one overwhelming emotion.

Responsibility.

The fierce determination to protect it at all costs radiated from him.

The spirit trembled, instinctively retreating.

This was no ordinary human. He had transcended human limits, enduring unimaginable pain to survive.

This mental world was far too vast and intense for the spirit to consume. Attempting to devour it would only result in its own destruction.

Step.

The man turned. He was still the same scarred Mercenary King, burdened by the pain of his past.

Step. Step.

He approached, his movements deliberate and steady. The spirit retreated further.

It was little more than black smoke in the shape of a man.

The Mercenary King bared his teeth in a feral grin as he reached out and grabbed the spirit’s neck.

Snap!

— Guh!

The Mercenary King, his red eyes blazing, asked with a sardonic smile.

“What do you think of the memories you tried to steal?”

— L-Lies… This is impossible…

“Doesn’t matter whether it’s possible or not. What matters is this—you can’t consume me.”

The spirit struggled, but it was futile. In this realm, Ghislain was a god.

— P-Please, spare me. Let me go back to Edwin’s body.

“No, that’s not happening.”

— Please, please spare me.

The spirit begged, groveling desperately. It didn’t want to vanish. It had existed for so long, without understanding why, but it still feared death.

Ghislain smirked.

“I told you to live in my body, didn’t I?”

— W-What?

“You can amplify my strength, can’t you?”

— H-How do you know…?

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

The spirit clasped its hands together and responded meekly.

— Yes, I can amplify your strength. The stronger the emotions you feel, the greater the power. However…

“However?”

— You need the mental fortitude to handle the amplified power. Judging by this mental world, it seems possible… but if the power becomes too great, your body may not survive.

“That’s my problem to deal with. From now on, you’ll live inside me and become my strength.”

— Ugh…

"If you don’t like it, you can just vanish here and now."

The spirit hesitated. This was no different from becoming a slave. But there was no way out.

It didn’t want to disappear, so it had no choice but to accept the proposal.

After all, it had to rely on someone’s mana to survive. And this body’s mana wasn’t just abundant; it was pure and exceptional. The spirit resigned itself to staying in this body until the owner’s eventual death—whenever that might be.

— A-All right.

Flash!

The spirit’s form dissolved, mixing with Ghislain’s mana. Its consciousness was sealed within a compartment Ghislain had prepared.

As the new power merged with him, Ghislain’s eyes turned black for a brief moment. Arel, who had been nervously watching from the side, panicked and drew his sword.

Grrrrrrr…@@novelbin@@

Ghislain bared his teeth in a grin. Since regressing, he had relentlessly pursued his goals, planning each step meticulously and defeating his enemies along the way.

As a result, the present was already different from his past life. The people he cared about were still alive, and he was protecting them.

The determination and responsibility to stop his enemies remained unwavering. Yet, he felt the emotions from his past life starting to dull.

That wouldn’t do.

He needed to burn with even greater intensity. His mind must remain cold, but his heart needed to stay ablaze.

He couldn’t let himself forget. Returning to the past didn’t erase the emotions and memories of what he had endured.

Until his enemies were utterly destroyed, he couldn’t let go of his rage and thirst for vengeance.

This newfound power would serve to reignite those memories and feelings, making them burn more vividly than ever.

Flash!

Ghislain’s eyes returned to their original color, but the mana radiating from him was entirely different.

A crimson-black aura surged around him. At first glance, it resembled malevolent energy, but a closer look revealed it to be something distinct.

“Good.”

He could feel his strength multiplying several times over. Even though he hadn’t pushed his body to its limits, the power coursing through him was incomparable to before.

And it wasn’t just that. The spirit confined within him offered more than just enhanced power—it had other abilities as well.

Ghislain recalled information he had unearthed about this entity from his past life.

[We searched for ‘it’ for a long time, but it was closer than expected. It was inside the body of Edwin, the son of Count Mowbray of the South. The count’s tight control over rumors made it impossible to find earlier. Right before our final confrontation with the royal family, we finally located it.]

The truth was, this being wasn’t truly a malevolent spirit. It was closer to a kind of spirit—one that had long forgotten its origins, wandering from body to body as a parasite to survive.

In his past life, this spirit was something the Duke’s faction had sought. Why they wanted it, Ghislain didn’t know.

But for Ghislain, there was a compelling reason to claim it before the Duke’s faction could.

This spirit had the ability to nullify mental magic.

[Sir Eloise, a master of illusion magic, attempted to separate it from Edwin’s mind, but to no avail. The spirit mocked him and even dispelled all the control magic placed on people nearby.]

Despite Edwin’s mediocre mana, the spirit had nullified the mental magic of a 7th-circle mage, effectively canceling all of Eloise’s abilities.

If harnessed with Ghislain’s superior mana, the spirit could turn the tide of an entire battlefield.

[After numerous experiments, we finally convinced it to cooperate. It lived within the body of Count Balzac, a Swordmaster, providing its power in exchange for survival. The results were astounding.]

With the spirit’s help, Count Balzac grew far stronger, to the point where he decisively defeated the royal Swordmaster during the civil war.

As a result, Count Balzac became the only Swordmaster in the Kingdom of Rutania.

Now, that power belonged to Ghislain. This spirit would also prove invaluable in nullifying Sir Eloise’s wide-range mental magic.

Grrrrrrr…

As Ghislain drew upon his mana, the air around him began to vibrate.

Unlike Edwin, he didn’t lose control or behave erratically. Ghislain had completely isolated and restrained the spirit’s consciousness, maintaining total command.

He wasn’t consumed by emotions. Instead, he used them as fuel to amplify his strength.

When Ghislain activated his third-stage core, an overwhelming surge of mana erupted from his body.

Flash!

As he grasped his sword and focused his strength, a crimson-black aura blade materialized effortlessly in his hand.

In the past, he needed time to gather his energy, but now, even that step was unnecessary.

“With this, I might stand a chance against Count Balzac.”

The strength Ghislain had witnessed in Count Balzac during their brief encounter at the royal banquet was immeasurable.

The rumors of him being the kingdom’s strongest sword were likely understated. As the Duke’s close ally, he rarely revealed the full extent of his power.

Ghislain’s grin turned feral. The emotions from his past life surged within him like a volcano erupting anew.

If there was a drawback to this power, it was the intensity of those emotions, but Ghislain didn’t care.

This body had already reached the pinnacle in his past life. With the ability to tread the same path faster and with greater control, there was no reason to refuse.

Grrrrrr!

In response to Ghislain’s will, the crimson-black aura around him coalesced into dozens of spears.

These spears, formed entirely from pure mana, resembled magic yet felt even more refined than the work of a mage.

Unable to contain the overwhelming power, the spears scattered.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The spears shattered the ceiling of the tower, sending debris raining down.

“Aaah!”

Edwin collapsed, clutching his head, while Arel brandished his sword to deflect falling stones.

Yet no one was harmed. Even amidst the chaos, Ghislain’s mana shielded them.

“Hahahahaha!”

Thrilled with his newfound power, Ghislain laughed loudly. Meanwhile, the spirit trembled in its hidden space, watching with dread.

‘This bastard’s insane. He must have some kind of mental disorder. I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ll have to live as this lunatic’s slave for the foreseeable future!’

No matter how the spirit looked at it, Ghislain was utterly unhinged. Nothing else could explain him.