The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Viktor let out his final scream.

The light of life in his wide-open eyes, filled with resentment, extinguished. His body, which had been twitching sporadically, finally ceased all movement.

Thud.

Ghislain, who had been holding his sword deeply embedded in Viktor until the very end, collapsed to the ground the moment he was sure of Viktor’s death.

“Phew—!”

He gasped heavily for a while before slowly standing up and surveying his surroundings.

The battle’s aftermath had pushed back the flames, but the area was still filled with intense heat.

“Ugh, this is tough.”

Lacking strength in his body, he slumped back down.

He tried to gather mana, but the flow was choppy and inconsistent.

“Dammit, what a hassle.”

The inner lining of his Dirus Ent armor had dried up and peeled off, no longer providing proper protection against the heat.

Ghislain threw his armor off and forced the remaining mana in his body to block out as much of the heat as he could.

In his current condition, wearing the armor would only weigh him down and make him even hotter.

He staggered to his feet and began to walk again.

But as he looked around, the area was engulfed in flames on all sides.

“I have to get through all this fire.”

The flames flickered like a snake’s tongue as if trying to devour him.

With each step he took, it felt as though his entire body was being sliced open by a blade.

He had lost too much blood; his head felt light.

Thud.

His legs gave out again, and he dropped back down.

“Hah, this is driving me insane.”

His body was in complete shambles.

If only he could get through these flames, it would all be over, but no solution came to mind.

“Back in the day, someone would’ve come to my rescue by now.”

Being alone in situations like this was always the hardest.

In his previous life, he had subordinates who would take care of the aftermath, but now he didn’t have anyone like that.

He still had mercenaries with him, but… those guys could barely keep up with him, let alone handle cleanup.

If anyone would come for him, it might be Belinda, who would rush over if he were late, but she was probably too busy taking care of the mages he had entrusted to her.

“Guess I have no choice. I’m going to have to face the flames.”

With the little mana he had left, even blocking out the heat was becoming difficult.

If he used his mana to move his body, he wouldn’t be able to shield himself from the heat, and his skin would burn.

“Tch, I was hoping to keep this face unscathed in this life.”

Ghislain clicked his tongue in frustration.

Back in his days as the King of Mercenaries, his face had been covered in scars.

He had been quite pleased when he returned to the past, and his face was clean again… but it wasn’t worth trading his life for.

“Let’s do this.”

Ghislain stood up and directed his mana towards his muscles to support them.

The heat, brimming with fiery mana, began to pierce into his body as soon as he did.

He needed to get out of there before he was burned alive.
Ghislain was about to suppress his growing impatience and take another step forward when it happened.

“Young Lord!”

Whoosh!

Gillian appeared, slicing through the flames with a fearsome expression.

“Are you all right?!”

‘Ah, right. I do have someone as capable as my old subordinates.’

Ghislain greeted him with a welcoming smile.

“I’m still holding up. You came at the perfect time.”

“Did you fight that man?”

Gillian glanced at Viktor’s corpse as he asked.

“He was the enemy commander. I overexerted myself to take him down.”

“We’ll get you out of here immediately.”

“Yeah, I’m counting on you.”

Whoosh!

Gillian swiftly lifted Ghislain under his arm and dashed through the wall of flames.

The scorching heat enveloped them, but Ghislain used his mana to shield himself.

In no time, the two emerged from the fiery inferno. A rush of cool air greeted them, cooling down the intense heat.

“Phew!”

As the fresh air hit him, Ghislain finally let out a ragged breath. It felt as though the burning sensation in his chest had been washed away.

Gillian carefully set him down and supported him.

Ghislain looked around, taking in the scene.

The area was littered with the bodies of enemies.

“Looks like it’s all taken care of.”

The waiting mercenaries approached, and they were visibly surprised upon seeing Ghislain.

“Boss? Why do you look like you barely escaped death?”

“We had a great time while you were out here struggling. Hahaha!”

Ghislain chuckled at their jesting, then turned to Gillian to ask, “What about Count Digald?”

“He fled early on. He’s got sharp instincts.”

“Figures. He must be running for his life.”

“The soldiers tried to flee with him, but we captured and killed most of them.”

“Good. It’s not a bad idea to let a few escape if we want word to spread. We’re almost done here.”

At that moment, a group of soldiers on horseback appeared in the distance, galloping toward them.

“Young Master!”

“Ghislain!”

“Young Lord!”

Belinda, Zwalter, and Randolph were leading the soldiers in a hurry toward him.

They had been anxiously pacing back and forth when they saw Ghislain rush into the flames. Now, they had circled around the fort to reach him by way of the eastern gate.

“You finally showed up,” Ghislain greeted them with a smile.

Though his words seemed like a reproach for being late, there was no real criticism in his tone.

After all, it wasn’t like they could have come any faster. The flames were impossible to withstand without proper protection, so they had no choice but to take the long way around with the soldiers.

In fact, if they had arrived any sooner, it might have complicated things.

If the enemy forces waiting in the rear had seen their soldiers emerge from the fort, they would have fled immediately.

Belinda quickly dismounted and rushed over to Ghislain, clinging to him as she checked him over.

“Young Master! Are you alright? Look at your face; it’s burnt! Why on earth did you go in there? I’m going to lose my mind, I swear!”

At her rapid scolding, Ghislain hastily raised a hand to calm her down.

“No, I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. I just got a little overheated, that’s all.”

Belinda, looking close to tears, continued to support him.

“Ghislain, are you all right?”

“Young Lord!”

Zwalter and Randolph hurriedly approached as well.

“Everything’s fine. You all did well,” Ghislain said with a smile, causing Zwalter to let out a sigh of relief.

He had wondered what on earth Ghislain was thinking, running into the fire like that…

Looking at the armor of the mercenaries standing nearby, he noticed something stuck all over it.

Though he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, it seemed to have helped shield them from the flames to some extent.

‘So, he had everything prepared in advance.’

He was curious about how such an enormous trap had been set, but those questions could wait until after the war’s aftermath was handled.

For now, it was time to celebrate the victory.

Zwalter muttered to himself, his face filled with emotion.

“We really won.”

It had been a hopeless situation, with all requests for aid denied and no supplies to face the massive enemy force.

Yet, in the end, Ferdium had emerged victorious.

Zwalter looked at his son.

‘You won.’

Suddenly, Ghislain appeared different to him.

He had cut off the enemy’s supplies, destroyed their siege towers, repelled surprise attacks, and, in the end, used a trap to annihilate the enemy.

Men who treated lives like flies, using any means necessary to achieve their goals.

Those who did not fear war lived amidst battle’s brutal madness.

There was a similar scent coming from Ghislain.

His actions were incomprehensible, breaking beyond the bounds of common sense.

He was so different from the son Zwalter thought he knew. It left him feeling uneasy and uncomfortable.

But it was Ghislain who had protected Ferdium.

‘He used to be a fool…’

No, in fact, he was still a troublemaker, disobedient and self-centered.

There was no sign of a noble’s dignity in him.

But he was bold, and he was capable.

Who would dare call Ghislain trash now?

His son was the savior and hero of this place.

As if trying to hide his trembling hands, Zwalter slowly embraced Ghislain.

“You did well. Truly, you did well. It’s all thanks to you.”

“Father…”

The usually stoic Zwalter was showing rare, intense emotions, and Ghislain smiled at him.

Unable to contain the emotion welling up from deep within, Randolph raised his sword high and shouted in a booming voice.

“We have won! Victory for Ferdium!”

“Woooaaaaaaah!”

“Victory! We won!”

The soldiers who had followed them lifted their weapons, shouting with faces full of emotion.

Not wanting to be left behind, the mercenaries also raised their voices.

“We did it! We killed them all!”

Ghislain bit his lip as he looked around at everyone.

They were all celebrating their survival and victory.

Yes, this was why he had fought—to protect them.

It had been grueling and exhausting. In the spare moments he had, he had devoted himself to training, leaving little time to rest.

There had been more than a few times when he just wanted to quit and take it easy.

But when he thought about how his endurance allowed these people to smile now, he realized he could endure hardships like that as many times as necessary.

Whoosh.

The flames started to die down, noticeably weakening as the fire began to fade away.

As the flames subsided, Zwalter couldn’t help but smile with joy.

“Let’s return to the fortress. Once everything is settled, we’ll hold a victory banquet.”

Everyone around them continued to shout in celebration, basking in their triumph.

Zwalter, too, was unable to hide his smile.

Only Ghislain shook his head and spoke coldly.

“We must immediately secure Count Digald’s formal surrender.”

“Well, Randolph can go tomorrow and—”

“That will be too late. I’ll go right now with the mercenaries.”

“Is there really a need to rush? The war is already over.”

“No, the more time we give him, the more he’ll start scheming. We must act swiftly, storm in, and demand reparations under favorable conditions. If he manages to seek protection from another lord, the aftermath will become far more complicated.”

“You’ve even thought that far ahead?” Zwalter exclaimed in surprise.

There wasn’t a single flaw in his son’s reasoning.

If Count Digald managed to recover from the war’s damage on his own or received aid from somewhere, he could take a passive stance on reparations.

If that happened, negotiations would drag on endlessly, so they had to cut him off before he had the chance.

And if Digald fled, even occupying his land would be pointless.

After all, the justification for the war lay with Count Digald, and if he took refuge in another domain, it would only make things more difficult.

‘He’s thinking like a seasoned commander who’s been through countless battles.’

Zwalter had been too caught up in the miraculous victory to consider these things, but Ghislain was already planning the next step.

Admiring his son’s quick and calculated judgment, Zwalter calmed his excitement.

“Yes, you’re right. In that case, Randolph and I will head out right away—”

“No, that won’t do. The two of you need to reassure the people and quickly reorganize the estate. We may have won, but we’ve requisitioned too many soldiers and resources. The estate’s economy is likely in disarray.”

“Th-that’s true. Everyone must be struggling.”

“Make sure to promise them compensation and provide them with reassurance. I’ll give you Runestones, so there won’t be a shortage of funds.”

“Oh, really? You’ll provide Runestones?”

Zwalter’s eyes lit up as if that one word had enchanted him.

His son, who had always been tight-fisted, was now offering up Runestones of his own accord!

His heart raced so fast that he barely registered anything else Ghislain said.

He was still unaware that a quantity of Runestones equivalent to the estate’s decades-long budget had already been consumed in the earlier battle.

Ghislain continued his tone firm.

“Then, I’ll go secure the terms of surrender and reparations. After that, you can step in to negotiate the details.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do that.”

Feeling an unexplainable intensity from his son, Zwalter could only nod in agreement.

After the war, the priority was to calm the people of the estate and reorganize it.

The war itself had been justified under the pretense of avenging the heir, so negotiating reparations would undoubtedly take some time.

With so many urgent tasks at hand, it made sense to let Ghislain handle the initial phase of dealing with the reparations. All he needed to do was secure the terms of surrender and basic compensation conditions.

Zwalter, having gathered his thoughts, asked once again,

“You don’t look well. Are you sure you can handle this?”

“I can manage,” Ghislain replied.

That was a lie. He felt like he could collapse at any moment and sleep for days.

But Ghislain had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away.

“Young Master! Just leave this to the Knight Commander!” Belinda pleaded.

“That’s right, I can go and hold him down,” Gillian added.

However, Ghislain shook his head.

“No, I’ll go.”

It seemed that his uncanny recovery ability had kicked in again, and after a brief rest, he felt somewhat capable of moving.

“Everyone, mount up!”

Ghislain and the mercenaries took the horses that the Ferdium forces had ridden in on.

“Bring the ‘Forest of Beasts’ patrols along with us.”

“Huh?”

Skovan and Ricardo widened their eyes in surprise as Ghislain turned to Zwalter and explained.

“I’ll leave the patrols behind to keep an eye on Count Digald during the negotiations, ensuring he doesn’t try anything.”

“Hmm, fine. Once the estate is settled, I’ll send reinforcement troops,” Zwalter agreed.

The patrols, who had hesitated at first, mounted their horses after receiving permission from their lord.

Before Ghislain set off, Zwalter cautiously spoke again.

“Though we fought a war due to misunderstandings, Count Digald is still a noble who has pledged loyalty to the royal family and has been our long-standing ally. Now that the battle is over, treat him with proper respect.”

Zwalter, being a man who valued law, customs, and honor, couldn’t help but worry that his unruly son might act out and be disrespectful.

“Understood. Don’t worry,” Ghislain replied, offering a slight smile before bowing his head briefly and raising his hand.

“Let’s ride straight to Count Digald’s territory!”

Dudududu!

With that, Ghislain led the mercenaries and the patrols at a gallop.

It was time to bring this war to a proper conclusion.