The 100th Regression of the Max-Level Player

At Cardinal Berber’s order, a follower began counting heads.

“There are 20 of us, excluding the cardinal.”

“Damn it…”

Berber clenched his lips. The followers had once numbered 200; now, only 20 remained.

“Back in Round 11, when we attacked the Saintess, there were still a decent number of us… and now…”

Berber gritted his teeth in frustration, but he knew that his anger wouldn’t bring back the fallen members. Gathering his thoughts, he called a meeting with the remaining high-ranking followers.

“We need to recruit more followers immediately. How many players are left in America?”

“I saw an article estimating about 200 players remained after the last round. However, with another elimination just now, that number might be halved—probably around 100.”

“Good, at least 100 are left. We need to bring all of them into the Despair Cult.”

Berber’s eyebrow twitched at the pessimistic remark.

“And why not?”

“Haven’t you heard? Most American players have already joined the Death Church.”

“The Death Church? What is that?”

“A religious group that worships the Black Scythe. They’ve been actively recruiting in Texas, and they seem to have gathered quite a following.”

“The Death Church? Sounds just like another one of those cults.”

Berber hadn’t considered the possibility of a rival sect. Of course, he figured the Black Scythe likely didn’t know about the Despair Cult either.

“So, they’ve encroached upon our territory, stealing potential followers?”

“That’s correct. I also heard that the Saintess is leading the recruitment efforts, backed, of course, by the Black Scythe.”

“Ah. That Saintess we failed to kill is coming back to haunt us.”

Back in Round 11, they had ambushed the Saintess’ followers on the orders of their leader, John Delgado. The mission had earned them quite a few points for taking down the Saintess’ entire entourage, though they hadn’t managed to kill the Saintess herself.

“If I recall, it was the Black Scythe’s intervention that forced our leader to retreat, missing a limb or two. We couldn’t help it.”

“And now? Don’t you think it’s time to finish off the Saintess and dismantle the Death Church?”

“But with the Black Scythe standing guard, is that even possible?”

The reactions from the high-ranking followers were all negative. The Black Scythe was out of their league, and sheer numbers wouldn’t be enough to tip the scale in their favor. Twenty eggs thrown at a rock would never leave a scratch.

“Don’t worry about that. Our leader is affiliated with an international organization called Messiah.”

“Messiah?”

“An international organization?”

The high-ranking followers widened their eyes, surprised by this revelation.

“How do you know this, Lord Berber?”

“As a Cardinal, there is little that escapes my notice.”

The truth was, a man known as The Spaniard had approached Berber to ask about John Delgado’s whereabouts, revealing the information in the process. However, Berber wasn’t aware that Messiah had already been decimated by the Black Scythe.

“So, you see, there’s absolutely no need for concern…”

At that moment, the doors of the warehouse creaked open, and John Delgado himself walked in.

“You’re here.”

The followers greeted him with respectful bows, though Berber remained silent, feeling a pang of guilt.

“What’s going on here?”

“We’re holding a meeting.”

“A meeting about what?”

“We were discussing ways to recruit new followers.”

“Did I give permission for such a meeting?”

“Well, Lord Berber suggested…”

John’s sharp gaze landed on Berber.

“What’s going on, Berber? Were you trying to hold a meeting without me?”

“Of course not, Leader. I intended to discuss it with you as soon as you arrived.”

“So you weren’t planning to make decisions on your own?”

“Naturally, the final decision rests with you, Leader. I simply thought we should address the matter urgently.”

John found Berber’s prepared response convincing enough and decided to let it slide.

“So, what’s the conclusion?”

“Have you heard of the Death Church?”

John maintained a composed expression and nodded slightly.

“I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, those vermin have been drawing all the players to their side, leaving us with little chance to recruit for the Despair Cult.”

“And what do you plan to do about it?”

“You remember the Saintess we missed last time? It seems she’s joined forces with the Black Scythe.”

“The Saintess done that?”

It might have been a misunderstanding, but John chose to act as if he knew nothing.

“Why not target the Saintess once more? If we capture her, we could force the Black Scythe to submit. We could potentially absorb all his followers into our cult as well. What do you think? It’s a solid strategy, isn’t it?”

The plan was straightforward: kidnap the Saintess and use her as leverage to control the Black Scythe. John stroked his chin, lost in thought. He was unsure whether to outright reject or keep the idea on hold.

‘This isn’t my decision to make; it’s for the Master to decide.’

After reaching a conclusion, John spoke to Berber.

“I need time to consider.”

“To recruit followers, this is the only way.”

“I understand. I’ll take it under serious advisement.”

With that response, John promptly left the warehouse.

‘I need to inform the Master of this as soon as possible.’

Neither Berber nor the Despair Cult followers suspected that their leader was, in fact, colluding with the Black Scythe himself.

***

Meanwhile, upon hearing the news of Round 14, the archangels were in a somber mood.

“The Duke Demon’s incarnation appeared, yet we failed to stop him…”

Gabriel, in particular, looked despondent. His initial confidence was gone, replaced by a deeply subdued expression. As it had been his plan, he was bearing the full weight of its failure.

“What happened, Gabriel? You assured us that by using the Demon’s Resurrection Book, we could inevitably make him a sacrificial lamb. That was why we agreed to the plan.”

“My apologies. I never expected the Black Scythe to see through it.”

“How many times did I ask? Are you sure this will succeed?”

“I… have no excuses, Michael.”

Gabriel bowed his head as Michael scowled fiercely, though inwardly, Michael was somewhat relieved.

‘It’s actually a good thing the Black Scythe survived. We’ve had a stroke of luck. But now, what to do? We’ll need to send an archangel to redeem this failure.’

Only three archangels, including Michael, remained. If all three attacked at once, the Black Scythe wouldn’t stand a chance.

‘But I must buy as much time as possible for him to grow stronger. What excuse can I use? Should I just suggest postponing this round? Or should I make Gabriel bear the responsibility alone?’

Just as Michael was about to voice his decision, something occurred.

“Ah?”

“Oh!”

The archangels gasped as a being appeared, slicing through the fabric of space.

I'm currently Translating the following novels: Pick Me Up! | A Frontline Soldier Awakened as a Gamer In The War! | The 100th Regression of the Max-Level Player. If you want to support me and read more chapters please subscribe to my Patreon!