The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 694

No matter how skilled a top-tier knight was, handling the combined assault of three warriors nearly as strong as him was impossible.

Especially when he had been caught off guard, his stance already crumbling under the unexpected assault.

Simon, coughing up blood, glared at Julien and muttered through clenched teeth.

“Cowards… Three against one… how disgraceful…”

For someone who had just attempted a sneak attack, his bitterness was almost laughable. Yet, he still looked resentful as blood dribbled from his lips.

With a heavy thud, Simon collapsed.

The mercenaries knew exactly who he was. He was the strongest knight in the region—at least, that was his reputation.

And yet, despite their three-on-one advantage, they had taken him down so quickly.

That was all that mattered to them. The fact that they—mercenaries—had just slain one of the strongest knights.

“Hell yeah! Simon is dead! Good riddance!”

“That bastard was always so damn arrogant! Acting all high and mighty just because he was a knight!”

“Get the commander and vice commander over here!”

The mercenaries erupted into cheers, and the allied soldiers joined in their celebration. Meanwhile, the surrendered Crest forces lowered their heads, while Count Crest’s personal knights stood frozen, unsure of what to do.

The strongest knight in their domain had just fallen. Even though the remaining Royal Guard members were formidable, there was no way they could fight their way out of this overwhelming situation.

Of course, if they fought to the death, they could inflict heavy casualties on the enemy.

But that would be all. They had no compelling reason to sacrifice themselves in a doomed battle.

Sensing their hesitation, Julien turned to them and spoke again.

“Drop your swords and surrender. Count Crest is not a lord worth your loyalty. If you throw your lives away here, you’ll only be ridiculed.”

The knights exchanged glances before, one by one, they let their swords fall to the ground and lowered their heads.

They knew he was right. Just because Count Crest held a high status didn’t mean dying for him would bring them honor.

As the last of the Royal Guard surrendered, Count Crest let out a furious scream.

“You worthless scum! You betray me now?! After all the luxury and favor I’ve given you?!”

His Royal Guard hadn’t even participated in the battle. That was how much Count Crest valued them.

And yet, in his final moment, they had chosen to surrender rather than protect him.

The betrayal and rage clouded his mind. His thoughts spiraled into uncontrollable fury.

“Fight! Fight, damn you! At least earn your keep! If you’re dogs, then act like it and obey your master’s command!”

His former knights, humiliated by the insult, flushed red with anger.

But they didn’t argue. Even if they had abandoned him, he was still the lord they had once served. Instead, they remained silent, heads bowed.

Julien approached the trembling Count Crest and asked calmly, “Any last words?”

“Y-you filthy mercenary dog… how dare you…”

Count Crest trembled with rage, foaming at the mouth. He had never imagined suffering such disgrace.

He had only planned to deal with these upstart mercenaries before turning his attention to Count Swipel. Then, he would have calmly taken over the northern region.

Yet now, he had suffered a crushing defeat. Over half his soldiers lay dead, and the rest had surrendered.

He was completely ruined.

Still, he had one last hope.

“You filthy wretches! If you kill me, the Marquis of Falkenheim will never forgive you!”

“…”

No one responded immediately. It was true—Count Crest was a sworn vassal of Marquis Falkenheim, one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom.

A brief silence fell over the battlefield.

Everyone was thinking the same thing.

They had won today, but a greater storm was coming. And there was a high chance they wouldn’t survive it.

Most of the soldiers hadn’t considered this yet, too caught up in the excitement of victory. But now, reality set in, and an uneasy shiver ran through the ranks.

“Damn… He’s right. We just made an enemy of Falkenheim.”

“We’re doomed. The marquis will kill us all.”

“What do we do? Should we flee to the royal capital?”

Killing a vassal of one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom was not something that could be done lightly.

But letting Count Crest live would be equally foolish. If he returned, he would simply gather reinforcements and strike again.

Unease spread through the allied forces. Even the Swipel commanders looked unsettled.

They had fought for their survival, but now they faced something far worse—Falkenheim’s inevitable retribution.

Sensing their hesitation, Count Crest smirked.

“I shall be on my way, then. If you wish to seek my mercy, you may find me later. Instead of vanishing in obscurity, I will grant you the opportunity to serve a true noble.”

Even in defeat, his arrogance remained unshaken.

Because he believed in his backing.

Julien, watching him, remained silent for a moment.

‘So this is what Ghislain meant?’

Ghislain had left the decision to him. Kill him or let him live—it was up to Julien.

Now, he understood why.

This was a test.

As Count Crest turned to leave, Julien raised his sword and pressed it against the noble’s neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Y-you dare…? I already said I am leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“You know who stands behind me, and you still do this? If you kill me, you’re all dead.”

“Killing you doesn’t change anything.”

“…What?”

“If we were afraid of death, we wouldn’t have fought you in the first place.”

“Y-you… how dare you…”

Count Crest’s face twitched. The unwavering look in Julien’s eyes made his stomach churn.

No. He couldn’t die here.

He had to survive. He had to return and erase this humiliation. He had to kill all of them.

“If you kill me, Falkenheim will—”

Shhk!

Julien didn’t let him finish.

There was no point in hearing the rest.

Thud.

Count Crest’s severed head fell to the ground.

Silence.

There should have been cheers of victory. But the weight of Count Crest’s final words still hung over the battlefield.

Understanding this, Julien turned to his men and spoke.

“It’s fine. This wasn’t unexpected, was it? Even if we had let him go, we would still have to fight.”

“…”

“There’s no need to be afraid. We just have to keep winning, just like today. And we will.”

A smile slowly formed on his lips. The kind of smile that reassured everyone who saw it.

“So for now…”

He raised his sword high.

“Let’s celebrate today’s victory.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, the mercenaries—gripping their weapons tightly—began to cheer.

"Yeah! With a commander and vice commander like ours, what’s there to be afraid of?!"

"As long as we keep winning like this, we’ll be fine!"

"Uwaaah! We won, that’s all that matters!"

The moment those words were shouted, the entire battlefield erupted into a deafening roar.

"Woooooah! Count Crest is dead!"

"I, Osvald the Mighty, shall never retreat again!"

"Julien’s Mercenary Corps is the strongest!"

The allied forces and the Swipel troops cheered together, laughter ringing through the air. The overwhelming victory had cost them almost nothing, making their triumph even sweeter.

From the rear, Andrew and Leo, who had only been watching, clapped and smiled. Their concerns had momentarily vanished—what mattered was that they had survived this crisis.

"Wow… they actually won. They just handled everything on their own."

"The quality of the troops is really something else. I didn’t think they’d win this easily."

Julien and Tyron were undeniably strong, but ultimately, the greatest factor in this victory was Ghislain’s sheer power.

Even now, the two men wore expressions of disbelief. Ghislain’s strength was beyond comprehension.

Julien glanced toward where Ghislain had disappeared, a small smile forming on his lips.

‘You’re doing well.’

Despite his inexperience, he had taken control of the situation faster than expected. That was pure talent.

Ghislain had intentionally left the decision of executing Count Crest to Julien. It was to prepare him—to get him used to making tough choices for when Ghislain was no longer around.

And his choice had been excellent.

The power and influence of Marquis Falkenheim in this kingdom were immense.

‘As expected of a natural-born leader.’

Julien had decisively executed Count Crest, just as he had when they dealt with bandits in the past.

Looking at him now, it was clear—Julien had only ever followed Deneb’s will out of his own sense of morality. If it weren’t for her, he could have easily become the "King of Bandits."

He had simply tried to live a righteous life but had ended up lost, not knowing how to act.

But that was no longer the case. Julien had become a man who could make decisions for the sake of a greater goal.

And of course, that was all thanks to Ghislain’s careful guidance.

The mercenaries, having just spotted Ghislain, erupted into even louder cheers.

"The vice commander is here! The monster vice commander!"

"Hell yeah! Our vice commander is superhuman!"

"He’s gotta be at least a 100th-Circle mage at this point!"

The mercenaries swarmed around him, celebrating.

Tyron shook his head as he watched the scene.

‘This guy is impossible to figure out, but his strength… it’s terrifying.’

If things had played out differently, and he had fought Ghislain instead of surrendering, what would have happened?

The Ironclad Lions would have been completely wiped out that day. That thought sent a chill down Tyron’s spine.

"Still… winning feels good."

They had utterly crushed a powerful noble like Count Crest. And while it was mostly thanks to Ghislain, the truth remained—there was no other mercenary corps on the continent like theirs.

For the first time, he found himself thinking—

Maybe I actually made the right choice following Julien’s Mercenary Corps.

With the war won, Count Crest’s territory now had to be properly divided.

Andrew and Leo had planned to discuss this matter with Julien’s Mercenary Corps. But before they could even start, Ghislain waved them off.

"Do whatever you want with it. I’ll be making my own rounds later anyway."

Though puzzled, the two simply nodded in agreement.

The division of land began. Of course, the finer details would be discussed with Count Swipel, but for now, everyone took control of regions adjacent to their own lands.

The Swipel forces accepted the proposal and returned to report.

When Count Swipel, who had just entered Crest’s territory, received the news, his eyes widened in shock.

"The war is already over?"

"Yes, we won overwhelmingly."

"How? How is that possible with their numbers? Explain everything."

He had been prepared to sacrifice a thousand cavalrymen just to weaken Count Crest’s forces. It had been a calculated risk.

But now, not only had they won, but they had suffered almost no losses. Count Swipel found it difficult to believe.

His officers gave a full, detailed report. They repeated multiple times that Ghislain’s abilities were not an exaggeration.

After listening to everything, Count Swipel sat there, dazed.

"Truly… a superhuman? He killed five thousand on his own?"

"Even if he isn’t a full-fledged superhuman, he’s at least near that level."

"Then why is someone like that working as a mercenary?"

"We don’t know. But both the commander and vice commander of Julien’s Mercenary Corps are top-tier fighters."

"Hah…"

Only now did Count Swipel truly understand.

With warriors like them, there was never a reason for them to fear Count Crest.

Even if Crest’s Royal Guard had acted, the result wouldn’t have changed.

A superhuman could only be stopped by another superhuman.

Of course, had Crest’s knights acted earlier, they might have inflicted greater losses. Even a superhuman’s strength wasn’t infinite.

But in the end, Crest had held back his elite forces, and he had lost.

While this outcome was beneficial to Count Swipel, he now found himself facing a new problem.

‘A superhuman-level warrior… That’s more dangerous than Count Crest ever was.’

Having someone that powerful right next door was unnerving. He would have to live in constant concern.

And then, there was the matter of money.

The payment he owed was enormous. In truth, he had never even planned to pay—it had always been his intention to avoid it somehow.

‘What do I do now…’

Count Swipel reviewed the documents Andrew and Leo had sent.

The arrogance of those young upstarts was astonishing. They had taken it upon themselves to divide the land as they saw fit.

And worst of all, they had actually been fair about it.

But why should he, a noble, accept a "fair" deal with commoners?

His plan had been to eliminate them both after the war. But now, an unexpected factor had entered the equation.

‘If he’s truly that strong, I can’t face him in battle.’

He had no chance against someone who had defeated Crest so decisively.

But letting him live was just as dangerous.

If left alone, he would have to give up both money and land—two things he had no intention of losing.

After a long moment of contemplation, Count Swipel turned to his advisors.

"Find a way to eliminate that mage. Don’t limit yourselves to direct combat—explore every possible method."

There had to be a way.

Unlike superhumans backed by large powers, this one was still a mercenary.

And that meant he was vulnerable.

If they didn’t deal with him now, he would only become a greater threat in the future.