The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 350

Even Edwin's overwhelming aura faltered momentarily as he stared at the tools Ghislain had pulled from his bag. With an expression of disbelief, he asked,

"What… are those?"

"They’re exorcism tools," Ghislain replied with a smirk. "You could also call them instruments for curing the weakness of your mind. And for a frail spirit, physical therapy is the best remedy."

"You insolent fool… how dare you speak like that before a being as great as I, one who hails from the Abyss…"

"You’re not from the Abyss," Ghislain interrupted, his tone dismissive. "You’re just squatting in this body because you can’t fully manifest. If you could control yourself properly, you’d be playing the part of a harmless victim right now."

Edwin froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden retort.

But soon, he laughed again, releasing a burst of oppressive malevolence.

"You clearly have never tasted the true horrors of the underworld. Even the goddess’s divine power does not affect me. What do you think you can achieve with such crude tools…?"

As the stinging aura reached Ghislain, he casually waved it away with a flick of his hand.

"Imitating a demon to such a pitiful degree? You’re amusing, I’ll give you that."

Ghislain’s calm demeanor only fueled Edwin’s rage.

Until now, everyone who had come to face him had been fearful, treading carefully around him as the heir to a powerful Count. But this man? He was mocking him.

To make matters worse, this audacious "exorcist" seemed intent on using such barbaric methods. Edwin sneered internally.

They wouldn’t dare break my body—I’m the heir to the Mowbray estate. Even my father, with all his rage, never truly went beyond a certain limit.

"Foolish human," Edwin growled. "Do you think such earthly pain will have any meaning for a being like me? Your pathetic attempts will…."

Smack!

Before Edwin could finish his sentence, Ghislain’s fist slammed into his face with a resounding crack.

"Ugh!"

Edwin’s head snapped to the side, frozen in place from the sheer shock of the impact.

Did he just… actually hit me?

His mind raced in disbelief. I’m the heir of the Mowbray estate! This isn’t divine healing! What kind of treatment is this? Physical therapy?

Ghislain’s voice rang out again, cutting through Edwin’s confusion.

"Alright, head back to the center."

"You bastard…!"

As Edwin turned his head back with a snarl, another punch flew in from the opposite direction.

Smack!

"Argh!"

The pain was staggering. Edwin was stunned.

What… what is this?

Protected by his malevolent aura, he shouldn’t have been able to feel pain like this. Even against mana-wielding foes, only the most skilled could leave a scratch on his possessed body.

Yet, here he was, writhing in pain from what felt like a simple human punch. Worse, there was a sensation as though something was tearing through his very being, striking at the core of his existence.

Unbeknownst to Edwin, Ghislain was infusing his punches with mana, targeting the malicious energy that had taken hold of him. But to Edwin, it was an unexplainable, agonizing assault.

"Arghhh! You insolent wretch! How dare you!"

Smack!

"Urgh!"

Edwin’s screams of pain mixed with the indignation of the spirit inside him. The two emotions swirled together, creating a chaotic outburst.

"You dare to curse me! My power will consume your soul! All the legions of heaven and earth will…!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ghislain interrupted.

Smack!

"Ow!"

The sheer absurdity of the situation left Edwin flailing. The pain wasn’t just physical—it felt like his very soul was being pierced and battered.

"Arghhh!"

Chains rattled violently as Edwin lashed out, extending his arm in an attempt to grab Ghislain. Though his movements were restricted, he could still reach the man standing just within range.

But Ghislain? He didn’t even flinch.

Thud.

With a casual movement, Ghislain brushed Edwin’s hand away as if swatting a fly.

No amount of malevolent energy or rage could compensate for Edwin’s lack of proper training. Against Ghislain, even enhanced strength was meaningless.

What… what is he? Edwin thought, panic gripping him. He’s no priest, no mage. He uses mana, but what is this technique?

Watching from the side, Arel was equally dumbfounded.

This is… exorcism?

He had braced himself for a grueling, mystical battle against a formidable spirit. Yet, what unfolded before him was… a thorough physical beating.

Suddenly, he recalled Ghislain’s words before they entered the tower:

"No matter what you see, don’t be surprised."

Ah… so that’s what he meant, Arel thought, understanding dawning.

While Ghislain continued his "treatment," Arel discreetly pulled out a notepad and began jotting down notes.

"For exorcisms: just hit them. Note to self."

As always, Arel diligently recorded his lessons, ensuring nothing was forgotten. He was, after all, a model apprentice striving to emulate his master in every way.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"Arghhh! You dare! You insolent wretch!"

The session continued, Ghislain pouring mana into his punches to strike at the hidden energy within Edwin. His precision was masterful—delivering maximum pain without breaking bones.

Edwin howled in agony, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"I am the son of the Count! The heir to this estate! How dare you strike me! Do you think you can leave here alive after this?"

"Relax. As long as you don’t die, everything will be fine."

Ghislain’s tone was as calm as ever. To him, the solution was simple: keep hitting until the spirit yielded.

Driven into a frenzy, Edwin screamed, "Someone! Anyone! Help me! This man is trying to kill me!"

"Nobody’s out there," Ghislain replied nonchalantly.

Indeed, with the tower cleared of guards and servants, Edwin’s cries wouldn’t reach anyone.

"You! Are you not afraid of my curse? I will…!"

Smack!

"Urgh!"

Ghislain didn’t even let him finish. He knew full well that the spirit had no power to back up its threats.

And so, for several days, Ghislain continued his unorthodox "therapy." Arel fetched meals for them at every mealtime, the food a lavish spread befitting the wealth of the Mowbray estate.

By the end of it all, even the malevolent spirit inside Edwin was on the verge of surrender.

"Wow, this is tasty. Let’s eat quickly and digest."

Ghislain never wasted a moment. Starting the next day, he began teaching Arel while continuing his physical "therapy" on Edwin.

"Look closely," Ghislain instructed, raising a fist. "If you hit here, it makes it hard for them to breathe, forcing their stance to shift like this."

Thwack!

"Keghh!"

"This spot’s a pressure point, but if you don’t hit it properly, you could leave yourself open to a counterattack."

Thwack!

"Arrgh!"

"Posture during an attack is also critical. You need to be ready to follow up immediately if they dodge or block."

Thwack!

"Owwgh!"

Arel nodded vigorously, taking notes with earnest focus. His diligence brought a satisfied smile to Ghislain’s face.

"Now, you try," Ghislain said, handing a club to his apprentice.

"Yes, sir!" Arel replied, gripping the weapon firmly. Following Ghislain’s instructions, he swung with enthusiasm. Of course, unlike Ghislain, he couldn’t channel mana to target the malevolent energy within Edwin.

For Arel, it was pure physical training.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"Good, good. You’re doing well," Ghislain praised, watching Arel’s efforts with pride.

Meanwhile, Edwin, caught in the middle of this merciless "lesson," could only think one thing:

Who the hell are these lunatics?

He felt like he’d stepped into a nightmare. It wasn’t just the pain—it was the sheer absurdity of it all. He was certain he’d die, and yet, he didn’t. The lack of finality was maddening.

And that man, the so-called exorcist, barely slept. Just when Edwin thought it was over, Ghislain would close his eyes for a brief moment, then spring back to life as if nothing had happened. He wasn’t human.

In contrast, the apprentice—who at least seemed mortal—slept more than his master.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

When will this end? Edwin wondered, despair settling over him.

Eventually, they even started beating him during meals. Arel joined in as well, leaving Edwin no respite.

At some point, terror began to grip him. He felt like this torment would never end.

"Please… just stop already," he thought, his mind fraying. The pain was unbearable, and for the first time, even the malevolent spirit possessing him began to falter. Slowly, the original Edwin began to resurface.

No, I don’t want to wake up… not like this…

The spirit had merged completely with Edwin, absorbing his memories and emotions. They were one now, sharing the same anguish, anger, and despair.

As Edwin’s rage festered, it had empowered the spirit, allowing it to lash out and wreak havoc.

But the roots of that rage lay in his upbringing.

Edwin’s Past

Being the heir to a noble family came with crushing responsibilities: grueling lessons, endless training, and the constant pressure to perform.

He hated it. He hated everything about it.

Every day brought more reprimands from his father, eroding his confidence bit by bit.

"You are the heir to this domain! You must take responsibility for its people!"

I don’t want this… Edwin thought.

"How can you call yourself a noble, you pathetic child?"

The harsher the scolding, the more mistakes Edwin made. Fear crippled him, turning even simple tasks into insurmountable challenges.

He began to see himself as stupid, worthless. He imagined everyone around him laughing at his failures.

He wanted to run away, to abandon everything. But he lacked the courage.

One day, a voice whispered to him.

"Let me in… I’ll set you free…"

Having already given up on life, Edwin accepted the presence without hesitation. He believed he was insane, so why resist?

Thus, the spirit entered him, and together, they became something monstrous.

Temporary Liberation

At first, Edwin felt free. For the first time, he could vent his rage, curse his father and the sycophantic retainers who mocked him behind his back.

"This is freedom!" he thought. "I’ve finally taken back control of my life!"

The spirit’s power protected him, dulling pain and letting him lash out without consequence. It was everything he thought he wanted.

But now?

Now, he was enduring pain beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

Not even his father’s beatings had hurt this much. His father’s scoldings felt mild compared to this.

He longed for his old life, where at least the suffering had limits.

The Breaking Point

Unable to withstand the agony, Edwin’s mind fully awakened, forcing the spirit into retreat.

The spirit tried to resist, but Edwin’s voice, filled with anguish and clarity, drowned it out.

"Father! Save me! This man is going to kill me! Someone, please, help me! Father!"

The room fell silent.

Ghislain’s fist stopped mid-swing.

He stared down at Edwin, assessing the young man with sharp, unreadable eyes. After a moment, he smirked.

"Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere," he said, his tone cold but satisfied.