The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 359

“What... what did you just say?”

For a moment, Brody thought he had misheard. How could a mere 3rd-circle mage be so arrogantly bold?

Yet, Alfoy’s expression was dead serious. He wasn’t joking—this man might actually have lost his mind.

“Pfft, hahaha!”

Ghislain, seated in the spectators' section, burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. Even Gillian’s jaw tightened as he clearly struggled to suppress his own laughter. The knights and soldiers of Fenris exchanged amused glances, doing their best not to chuckle.

The previously tense atmosphere took on an absurdly comical tone. The Crimson Tower mages, however, found this highly displeasing.

Delmuth’s glare darkened as he fixed his gaze on Alfoy.

“Brody, kill him. No mercy.”

The command was clear—no surrender would be accepted. Delmuth needed to reassert dominance. Alfoy’s mockery threatened to shift the balance of fear, and fear was critical for the Crimson Tower’s control.

Brody nodded sharply, turning back to Alfoy. “You hear that? No surrender. I’ll make sure you die slowly.”

At this, Hubert jumped to his feet, shouting, “What’s the meaning of this? Are you trying to push things too far? Alfoy, step back! This exchange is over!”

Delmuth also rose, his voice booming with authority. “Who said you could end it? From now on, no surrender is allowed! Defy me, and I’ll see to it personally!”

Crack!

A wave of energy burst from Delmuth, the pressure of a 7th-circle mage blanketing the arena. Everyone froze in place. Hubert and the Scarlet Tower elders paled, their faces drained of all color. Even the apprentices recoiled in terror.

The atmosphere grew suffocating, a clear sign that Delmuth wasn’t bluffing. This wasn’t just a duel anymore—it was a prelude to carnage.

In desperation, Hubert turned to Ghislain. “C-Count of Fenris! Surely you could mediate...?”

Before he could finish, Ghislain cut him off. “Why rush? Alfoy hasn’t decided what to do yet.”

“What... What could he possibly—”

“I’m not surrendering.”

Hubert’s jaw dropped as Alfoy’s voice rang out, calm and resolute.

“What?”

“I’m going to give it a shot,” Alfoy said with a shrug, his expression almost casual.

“You idiot! That man is a 4th-circle master! You’ll die the moment the duel starts!”

Though Hubert had largely disowned Alfoy, there was a shred of lingering affection for the apprentice he had once mentored. The thought of losing him now, even foolish as he was, felt unbearable.

“Step down now! This duel is nullified!” Hubert barked.

Alfoy scratched his head, looking more exasperated than frightened. “Everyone’s so scared over nothing.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

At first, even Alfoy had been nervous. But now, facing Brody, he felt surprisingly calm. After everything he’d been through in Fenris, this barely registered as a threat.

He’d nearly died when Vanessa drained his mana in the first battle. He’d almost been crushed during his airship crash with Kaor. He’d fought against the North’s strongest, the Desmond Army, and barely escaped the Queen Grex and her swarm.

Compared to those life-or-death experiences, a duel with a 4th-circle mage seemed almost trivial.

And Delmuth?

“What’s so scary about a 7th-circle mage? The Count’s here, isn’t he?”

Even if Ghislain couldn’t outright defeat Delmuth, there was no way he’d go down without dragging the mage into oblivion with him.

Alfoy had been through so much insanity that his sense of fear had dulled considerably. He now understood Ghislain’s seemingly reckless yet calculated approach better than anyone else.

He waved Hubert off dismissively. “It’s fine. I’ll fight.”

“You little—! Step down immediately!”

Hubert moved to physically drag Alfoy out, but Ghislain interrupted.

“Let him try. Have some faith.”

“Faith? The circle difference is insurmountable!”

“Circles aren’t everything,” Ghislain countered with an amused smirk.

“For mages, they are everything!” Hubert fumed, but it was no use. Ghislain remained unmoving.

“Fine! Do whatever you want! You’re all crazy!” Hubert fumed, sitting back down angrily. Still, he began gathering mana in his hands, ready to break the barrier if Alfoy was in mortal danger.

Delmuth, noticing Hubert’s actions, whispered to his elders. “If anyone interferes, kill them immediately.”

Hubert, sensing the subtle threat, reluctantly dispersed his mana. Starting a full-scale fight now would be catastrophic.

As the commotion subsided, Alfoy glanced back at Ghislain. The Count gave him a thumbs-up, his grin encouraging.

Alfoy chuckled, then turned to Vanessa, who watched him with worried eyes, her hands clasped tightly together.

With a cocky smirk, Alfoy slicked back his hair dramatically. “Watch closely. This is the power of yours truly.”

The elder overseeing the duel raised his voice. “Begin!”

Brody sneered as he advanced. “You’re either fearless or brain-dead. I won’t just kill you—I’ll rip you apart and make you regret even existing.”

Alfoy, still oozing arrogance, raised a hand. “Oh, really? I have something to show you first.”

Brody scowled. “What could a weakling like you possibly show me?”

Alfoy opened his palm to reveal a small rock. “This.”

“A rock? Is this some kind of joke?”

“I’m going to show you something amazing with this rock. Just wait a second.”

Alfoy stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

“Watch closely. It’s going to disappear.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, Alfoy performed a simple sleight of hand, slipping the rock into his sleeve. Brody frowned, clearly unimpressed.

“What kind of trick is this? What’s the point—”

Before he could finish, the rock shot out of Alfoy’s sleeve with alarming speed.

Crack!

“Guh!”

The rock smacked Brody square in the nose, sending him staggering back as blood spurted from his nostrils.

Though stunned, Brody quickly gathered himself, raising a hand to cast a spell. A fireball ignited in his palm.

“Haste.”

Before Brody could release the spell, Alfoy enhanced his speed with magic, darting out of range.

“Grease.”

Alfoy cast a friction-reducing spell, making the ground beneath Brody slippery. The 4th-circle mage wobbled as his footing faltered.

“What the—”

Alfoy lunged forward, tackling Brody with a swift movement that sent him crashing to the ground.

Boom!

The impact echoed across the arena. Brody, unaccustomed to physical combat, was utterly overwhelmed by Alfoy’s unorthodox approach.

“Y-you crazy bastard! What are you—”

Brody’s protest was cut short as Alfoy mounted him, raising a glowing fist.

“Fire Fist.”

Flames erupted around Alfoy’s clenched hand. His mana manipulation was fast, leaving Brody no time to react.

“This,” Alfoy declared, grinning wickedly, “is how you throw a real punch.”

Bam!

“Aghhh!”

The fiery blow landed square on Brody’s face, eliciting a scream of agony. Alfoy didn’t stop there. His fists rained down relentlessly.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Both fists mercilessly smashed into Brody’s face.

Alfoy didn’t stop. Though he was a mage, he knew a magical duel would put him at a disadvantage. He had to press the attack while the momentum was on his side.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“Aaaaargh!”

Brody, overwhelmed by the pain, couldn’t muster any kind of response. Having lived a life of privilege, he had never imagined himself involved in such a barbaric fight.

Alfoy’s stamina might have been considered poor by Fenris territory standards, but that was a high bar. He had spent years working on construction sites, giving him endurance far surpassing the average mage.

“Ugh, s-stop…”

Even as Brody begged for mercy, Alfoy didn’t relent. Instead, he took things a step further.

“Open wide; here comes a fireball.”

Alfoy opened his palm, and a small fireball shot directly into Brody’s gaping mouth.

Boom!

“Gaaah!”

Brody’s scream didn’t last long. Another flaming punch landed squarely on his face, cutting him off.

Crunch!

Even as he pounded away, Alfoy couldn’t resist running his mouth.

“Does it hurt? Oh, it hurts, doesn’t it? What was that you said earlier? Huh? Do you even know who I am?”

“Ugh…”

Brody’s mind blanked from the sheer pain. He didn’t even get the chance to use proper magic before succumbing to Alfoy’s relentless assault. His face was now utterly unrecognizable, burned and battered beyond repair.

Finally, Alfoy straightened up and took a deep breath, confirming Brody was dead.

He hadn’t initially planned to kill him. But Brody wasn’t the kind of opponent he could afford to hold back against—after all, his Circle was higher.

Looking down at the lifeless body, Alfoy donned a stern expression and muttered:

“Magic isn’t about Circles. It’s about the fight, kid.”

Not exactly something you’d expect from a mage, but in Fenris, it wasn’t far from the truth.

“Wooooaaah!”

The cheers erupted from the Scarlet Tower’s side. Ghislain clapped with a smile, and Vanessa jumped up and down in delight. Gillian nodded approvingly, and the knights and soldiers celebrated with bright eyes and loud cheers.

On the other hand, Hubert and the elders of the Scarlet Tower stared in disbelief, their mouths agape.

“T-that bastard… How the hell has he been living? Where did he learn something like that? Is that even magic? Huh? How is that magic?”

One of the elders stammered in response.

“Is working on a construction site the key to getting stronger?”

“Why is his mana control so good?”

“It felt like he was dual casting…”

Though Alfoy’s Circle hadn’t changed since his time at the Scarlet Tower, his combat power seemed to have multiplied. Yet, they couldn’t shake how crude his fighting style felt.

All of them came to the same conclusion:

‘That bastard must’ve learned from the Count of Fenris.’

The Fenris knights were rumored to fight rough, but who would have thought that philosophy extended to mages?

Alfoy had undoubtedly grown stronger, but no one wanted to emulate his methods.

As the disciples of the Scarlet Tower cheered, Alfoy snapped at them.

“Hey! You useless idiots! You call yourselves the best disciples of the North’s greatest tower? You couldn’t even muster the guts to fight these guys!”

The laughter stopped instantly. Even they felt embarrassed.

Alfoy continued with a smug expression.

“Have some confidence! These guys aren’t so tough when you actually fight them. Got it?”

The disciples nodded, clenching their fists in renewed determination.

A 3rd-Circle mage had defeated a 4th-Circle mage, and not just any 4th-Circle mage, but the direct disciple of Delmuth, the Crimson Tower’s master. Perhaps the Crimson Tower wasn’t as fearsome as they thought.

Satisfied, Alfoy smirked.

‘Whew, I’m glad I won. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to talk so big.’

He thought it would’ve been cooler to say those words before the fight, but his cautious nature stopped him—what if he lost?

‘Either way, a win’s a win.’

He basked in the cheers as he returned to his seat.

“Well done, Alfoy.”

Hubert awkwardly smiled and patted Alfoy on the shoulder.

“Hmph.”

Alfoy turned his head with a pout. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

‘They let me rot at a construction site and then sent me into a duel like this?’

His frosty demeanor made Hubert even more nervous. Hubert hadn’t expected Alfoy to win and now felt guilty for neglecting him.

“Ahem, I suppose I haven’t been in touch much lately. That must’ve hurt your feelings.”

“Hmph.”

‘Not in touch’ was an understatement. Since the Fenris branch was established, Hubert hadn’t reached out even once. Thinking about it made Alfoy fume even more.

“Well, you know I’ve been busy, right? You know how busy I get?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“I’m tired. I just fought, you know.”

The awkward tension between master and disciple lingered.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere on the Crimson Tower’s side had turned icy.

“That bastard…”

Delmuth’s eyes burned with murderous intent. His direct disciple had been slaughtered right in front of him. Such humiliation couldn’t be ignored.

Mana began surging ominously from Delmuth, his very presence suffocating those nearby. People instinctively stepped away, unable to bear the pressure.

Watching Delmuth’s fury, Hubert couldn’t help but smirk.

‘Our successor defeated yours!’

The fact that they had lost more overall didn’t matter. Winning the duel between successors was what truly counted. Hubert was already planning to spread the news far and wide.

Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to provoke Delmuth outright—not yet.

Turning to Vanessa, he gave her a warm smile.

“Vanessa, take care not to get hurt, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Vanessa replied respectfully. Despite her equal rank as a 6th-Circle mage, she maintained her humble demeanor. After all, she was still a Scarlet Tower mage at heart.

When Vanessa stepped forward as the final participant, Hubert visibly relaxed.

‘Phew, no one in the Crimson Tower has a higher Circle than Vanessa. We’ll win this round too. Thanks to Alfoy, we’ve saved face.’

The elders and disciples shared similar thoughts, sighing in relief. But their faces soon paled as they saw who stepped forward.

“I will take the last match.”

Delmuth strode forward, radiating killing intent.

At the same time, Ghislain slowly rose from his seat.