The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 683

Tyron paused, his memory tracing back.

"Ah, right... Julien Mercenary Corps."

He had heard about them a few times before. At the time, he thought they were reasonably skilled. But that was all. The thought had long faded from his mind, as there was no reason to pay attention to such a small, newly formed mercenary group.

And yet, they had now united all the mercenaries in Nodehill! When had they managed to pull off such a bold move?

For a small mercenary group, their growth rate was astonishingly fast. However, rapid growth and following his commands were entirely different matters.

“Didn’t you propose my terms to them?” Tyron asked.

“Yes, since they’ve now unified, I thought it would be easier to manage and passed it along. But... they refused.”

“Refused? They refused my proposal? Do they not know who I am?”

“No, they know you well. But...”

“But what?”

“They said not to force them. That mercenaries work for money and will go anywhere as long as the pay is right.”

“These bastards...”

Tyron’s eyes burned with fury. He was a predator. Any mercenary who dared to defy him was thoroughly crushed. That was why all the mercenaries in the region feared and followed him.

With a voice that threatened to boil over, he commanded,

“Contact them immediately. Tell them to meet me right away if they don’t want to die.”

There were always those types—the ones who tasted a bit of success and acted as though they were something special. This upstart mercenary corps, emboldened by their recent rapid growth, seemed swollen with arrogance.

For people like that, a personal meeting was required to show them the vast difference in power. Only then would they bow their heads.

At Tyron’s command, several officers from the Ironclad Lion Corps moved to contact the Julien Mercenary Corps.

When the officers arrived, they were greeted by a man wearing a smug expression—Ghislain.

"Tell them to come in person," Ghislain said bluntly.

“What did you just say?” the officer asked, stunned.

“Who do you think you’re summoning? The person with business should come themselves, shouldn’t they? What kind of fool runs off without a reason?”

The officer, caught off guard, froze, unable to comprehend why Ghislain was acting so defiantly.

“You... you do know who our commander is, right?”

“Of course, Tyron, leader of the Ironclad Lion Corps.”

“And you’re still refusing to come?”

“Should I come just because a dog barks? Is he some sort of king? Even if it were a king, I wouldn’t go unless I felt like it.”

“...”

The officer’s jaw dropped, his mind reeling at the sheer insolence.

“We’re not bluffing,” the officer said, struggling to maintain composure. “We are from the Ironclad Lion Corps.”

“Oh, please,” Ghislain sneered. “Even your name reeks of desperation. I told you. I’m. Not. Going.”

The officer grimaced at Ghislain’s shameless attitude. Normally, he would have lashed out in anger, but this was effectively enemy territory. The sight of other mercenaries lounging around, watching the exchange, suggested that starting a fight here might not end well for him.

Even so, Ghislain’s core members were rumored to be strong. He couldn’t afford to underestimate them.

Grinding his teeth, the officer finally said, “You’ll regret that attitude.”

Ghislain chuckled, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“Plenty of people have said that to me before. A lot of people. Do you know what happened to all those people who threatened me?”

“What... happened to them?”

Pointing a finger skyward, Ghislain replied, “They all went to meet the goddess. Oh, except for one cat and the woman who owned it.”

His smugness was unbearable. The officer, seething, felt his face flush red with anger.

“This... this lunatic...”

To so boldly spout such nonsense without even understanding the strength of the Ironclad Lion Corps—was he mad? The officer nearly drew his sword then and there, but he held back. With one final warning, he turned to leave.

“We’ll see how long that confidence lasts. Clean your neck and wait for us.”

“Even your threats are uninspired. Fine, I’ll be waiting. Bring as many as you’d like,” Ghislain called after him mockingly.

The officer clenched his teeth and stomped away, barely suppressing his rage.

Watching the tense standoff from a distance, Osvald’s face was pale with worry.

“Boss! Don’t you know how strong the Ironclad Lion Corps is? They’ve got over 500 men! Their leader is rumored to be as skilled as a top-tier knight!”

“Oh, is that so?” Ghislain replied nonchalantly.

“If we fight them, we’re all dead! Tyron’s been scouted by nobles hoping to recruit him as a knight-commander! He’s no joke!”

“Really? That’s impressive,” Ghislain said, still indifferent.

Osvald was nearly in tears. “I’m telling you, we’ll lose if we fight!”

Still, Ghislain remained unshaken.

“If they come, we’ll just crush them. Honestly, unless it’s a dragon, a ‘human’ is no big deal.”

Osvald groaned inwardly. From his perspective, Ghislain was just another human being.

He’s really gone mad. Fine, when the fight starts, I’ll switch sides immediately.

When the officer returned to Tyron with the report, Tyron’s expression was one of disbelief.

“They said... I should go to them?”

In his entire career, since his early mercenary days, no one had dared to act so insolently toward him. Even nobles treated him with respect. What mercenary would dare challenge him like this?

For a moment, Tyron froze, unable to process the audacity. Then, fury overwhelmed him, and his fists clenched tightly. His voice was low and menacing.

“They have about a hundred men, you said?”

“Yes, sir. Maybe a bit more—around 120.”

“They’ve certainly gathered a lot in a short time,” he scoffed. Impressive, but not enough to rival the Ironclad Lion Corps.

“Even fifty of our men should be enough to teach them a lesson.”

“You’re correct, sir. Most of their members aren’t particularly skilled. However, their deputy commander is a mage.”

“A mage? Right, I remember hearing something about that. How many circles?”

“The lord exaggerated and claimed it was six, but it seems they’re actually fourth-circle.”

“Hmph. The lord must have been trying to inflate their worth. Fourth-circle isn’t too shabby, though—it could make them a court mage in a small territory. Better not take them lightly.”

“Send Vice Commander Zark. A hundred men should be enough. If the mage tries anything, break a limb or two. Just don’t kill him,” Tyron commanded.

He decided to leave it at that, considering the face of Baron Nodehill. Maintaining decent relationships with nobles was something Tyron couldn’t entirely ignore.

However, he wasn’t the kind of man who would allow anyone to repeatedly defy him and live.

“If they can’t grasp their position after that… just kill them. I’ll personally visit Baron Nodehill to smooth things over.”

“Yes, understood.”

In the end, Baron Nodehill would have no choice but to accept Tyron’s apology. The Ironclad Lion Corps could easily overpower a weak territory like Nodehill. Tyron’s concessions were simply a matter of maintaining appearances and avoiding unnecessary conflict with other nobles.

Soon, Vice Commander Zark, a few officers proficient in mana manipulation, and a hundred well-trained mercenaries set out from the Ironclad Lion Corps’ headquarters.

Receiving the report of their departure, Tyron chuckled softly.

“No matter how new and confident they are, how can they be so ignorant? This isn’t a world where a bit of skill is enough to survive. Tsk, tsk.”

He was certain this confrontation would hammer some sense into them. On top of that, this was a great opportunity for Tyron himself.

“We can simply take the mercenaries they forcibly recruited.”

It wasn’t that Tyron lacked the power to use such methods before. He had simply avoided it due to a lack of justification. Even among mercenaries, justification mattered. Expanding recklessly without cause would inevitably draw the attention of larger mercenary groups in other regions.

But now, the Julien Mercenary Corps had handed him the justification on a silver platter.

If he absorbed the mercenaries that Julien had forcibly recruited, none of those individuals would have loyalty to the Julien Corps.

“Well, not a bad outcome at all. It’s a good sign, especially with a war on the horizon.”

Tyron smiled with satisfaction. Thanks to some foolish upstarts, he could easily replenish his forces.

The recruits wouldn’t be particularly skilled, but the former leaders of those disbanded groups would surely prove useful.

Lately, things had been going well for Tyron.

“Good, very good,” he murmured, reveling in his good fortune.

The officers of the Ironclad Lion Corps returned to confront Ghislain, this time accompanied by a hundred mercenaries.

Seeing them approach, Ghislain smirked and asked,

“What? Here to fight?”

Vice Commander Zark spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

“This is your last chance. Apologize for your actions and come pay your respects to our commander.”

In this world, being disrespected was tantamount to death. The Ironclad Lion Corps couldn’t overlook the blatant slight to their leader, Tyron. Now, the only option left was to demonstrate their strength.

Standing before the hundred mercenaries, most would feel compelled to back down.

Sure enough, many of the Julien Mercenary Corps’ members began to look uneasy.

“Damn it, I knew this would happen.”

“Looks like this is about to blow up.”

“When’s the best time to run without anyone noticing?”

The tension was palpable. Compared to the Ironclad Lion Corps, the Julien Corps didn’t stand a chance in terms of individual skill or numbers. With the Ironclad Corps clearly determined, the outcome seemed all but decided.

But Ghislain, completely unaware—or perhaps fully aware—of his men’s fear, simply grinned and replied,

“What if I say no?”

“Then we’ll have to teach you a lesson,” Zark said, his voice heavy with menace.

At his words, the mercenaries of the Ironclad Lion Corps drew their clubs.

They had no intention of killing anyone—just delivering a thorough beating to demonstrate the vast difference in power. Of course, accidents could happen, but losing a few lives wouldn’t matter much.

Zark scanned the area and bellowed,

“Anyone who wants to resist, go ahead! But know this: we will show no mercy to those who oppose us! If you stay out of this, the Ironclad Lion Corps may take you in later!”

Hearing this, the recently recruited mercenaries subtly stepped back. They had no intention of fighting.

The Ironclad Lion Corps had even left a path open for them, promising to take them in—a better opportunity than remaining with a doomed group.

None of them refused the offer. Terrified, they retreated and waited for the inevitable outcome.

Watching them, Ghislain shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Ah, so much for loyalty.”

It wasn’t surprising, though. How much loyalty could they have after such a short time together?

Considering the overwhelming reputation of their opponents, it was only natural for them to be afraid.

With a relaxed smile, Ghislain asked,

“So, who among you will stand with us?”

Unsurprisingly, none of the new recruits stepped forward. Who would dare fight the Ironclad Lion Corps?

But to everyone’s astonishment, ten of Ghislain’s members—former bandits—stepped forward. Despite trembling with fear, they moved to Ghislain’s side.

They looked as though they were forcing themselves, their legs shaking with every step. The other mercenaries found the sight baffling.

“What’s wrong with those guys? Are they idiots?”

“Are they really trying to stay loyal after being forced to join?”

“No, that doesn’t seem like it. Look at them—they’re terrified. Why are they even stepping forward?”

The bandits were indeed terrified. Despite their fear of the Ironclad Lion Corps, they kept glancing nervously at Ghislain, as if they knew who the real predator in this situation was.