The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 692

Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!

Thousands of weapons rained down on Crest’s army, tearing through their orderly ranks and plunging the battlefield into chaos.

“Aaaargh!”

“What the hell?!”

“Magic! The enemy is using magic!”

Soldiers screamed in confusion, their formations collapsing in an instant. No one had anticipated—let alone imagined—an attack like this.

Terrified cries filled the battlefield as weapons moved with eerie precision, cutting down Crest’s soldiers. The commanding officers turned in panic, barking orders.

“Mages! What are you doing?!”

“Stop their magic! Block it now!”

But their desperate commands were in vain. The deadly ballet of steel continued, each blade slicing through the battlefield as if it had a will of its own.

The more skilled knights and soldiers managed to deflect or dodge some of the flying weapons, but their efforts were meaningless. The moment a blade was knocked away, it simply changed direction and came at them again.

The relentless assault of thousands of blades felt like a nightmare given form.

Count Crest’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“What… what the hell is that?”

He could scarcely comprehend what was unfolding before him. His men weren’t just being attacked; they were being hunted.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind struggling to process the sight. Then, snapping out of his shock, he shouted,

“Mages! Didn’t I order you to block all enemy magic?! What are you waiting for?! Stop that spell immediately!”

The mages, already drenched in sweat from their futile efforts, could only stammer.

“M-my lord… It’s not magic.”

“What the hell are you saying?! If this isn’t magic, then what is it?!”

“That… that’s…”

The mage couldn’t finish his sentence. Even he didn’t understand what he was witnessing. He knew magic, studied it for years, yet what he was seeing didn’t follow the logic of any known spell.

What Ghislain had unleashed was something far beyond standard magical constructs. It was a pure, unfiltered application of martial energy—a technique that mages simply couldn’t dispel.

As the mages struggled to make sense of the phenomenon, the weapons continued their merciless onslaught.

“Aaaargh!”

Screams filled the air.

Crest’s army, which had marched forward with such confidence, had now ground to a halt, locked in a desperate battle against an unseen opponent.

A short distance away, Ghislain stood alone, elegantly moving his fingers as if conducting a grand symphony.

Thousands of blades followed his every gesture, each moving with deadly precision.

‘This technique… Belinda’s mother taught her well.’

He had refined his control to an extraordinary level thanks to what he had learned from Belinda.

Previously, he could only direct the weapons in broad, sweeping movements. But after gaining insight from the shadow knight’s teachings and the Northlander woman’s techniques in his dreams, he had reached an entirely new level of mastery.

Of course, even he couldn’t perfectly control thousands of weapons at once. More than half of them moved chaotically, driven purely by instinct.

But that was fine.

The enemy’s formation was crumbling under the sheer pressure of his attack.

And it wasn’t just Crest’s forces that were in shock.

Even those who had placed their faith in Ghislain—his allies—were left speechless.

“What… what the hell am I looking at?”

“The weapons… they’re fighting on their own!”

The realization struck them like a hammer. Ghislain was no ordinary mercenary—he was a legend in the making.

Normally, a display of power like this would have been met with cheers and shouts of victory. But instead, there was only stunned silence. The sight before them was simply too much to process.

The allied forces of Nodehill and Raks stood frozen, unable to react. Even the Swipel troops, who had come as reinforcements, paled as if they were witnessing an unstoppable force.

One of Swipel’s knights lowered his head, unable to meet Ghislain’s gaze.

‘…Impossible. There’s no way we can execute the plan now.’

Swipel’s Count had secretly ordered his men to betray the Julien Mercenary Corps after the battle was won.

But now?

How were they supposed to kill a man who could command an army of blades by himself?

Even with all their forces combined, they stood no chance against him.

They needed to report this immediately. A different approach—a new strategy—would be necessary to deal with this man.

As for Crest’s army?

They were already beyond saving.

“Aaargh!”

“How are we supposed to fight against this?!”

“Where are the mages?! Do something!!”

The soldiers’ morale plummeted. This wasn’t a battle—it was a massacre.

Desperate cries of terror echoed across the battlefield, but blaming the mages wouldn’t change anything.

Shhlick!

“Guh…!”

Blood sprayed as another mage collapsed, a blade piercing through his chest.

The intelligent weapons had started targeting the enemy’s support units.

“Form a shield! Protect yourselves! We can’t stop it, so we must defend!”

Realizing that magic suppression was futile, the mages poured their energy into defensive spells. But for those who weren’t strong enough, it was already too late.

It hadn’t even been long since the battle started, yet Crest’s forces were already in complete disarray.

Still, not everyone was paralyzed by fear.

Some of Crest’s knights remained calm, analyzing the situation.

One of them shouted,

“Forget the weapons! Charge forward! We have to take him down directly!”

It was the only logical course of action. Fighting an enemy without a body was pointless.

The order spread rapidly across the ranks.

“Move forward! Break through!”

“Charge!!!”

Crest’s army roared as they surged forward. The cavalry on the flanks spurred their horses into a full gallop, aiming directly for Ghislain.

Their eyes burned with desperation.

They had only one thought—

Kill that man, no matter what.

Dudududududu!

They aimed to kill Ghislain, the one standing at the very front. They believed that if they could just take him down, this absurd situation would finally be resolved.

That belief wasn’t entirely wrong. But whether they could kill him was an entirely different matter.

Ghislain snorted, tilting his neck from side to side before gripping his staff tightly.

“It’s a bit of a shame that Umbra isn’t here right now… but I suppose moving on my own is a good workout.”

Fwoooosh!

A flash of blue mana surged as Ghislain’s body shot forward like a bullet.

Even as an overwhelming number of enemies closed in, his lips curled into an easy smile. No, he even seemed excited.

It had been a while since he had been able to go wild, and he was thrilled.

On the other hand, the Crest soldiers charging toward him still had nothing but fear and confusion on their faces.

Then—Ghislain and Crest’s army clashed.

BOOOOM!

The moment his staff swung, the soldier at the very front was sent flying. Ghislain dashed into the heart of the enemy formation like lightning.

BOOOM!

Each time his staff moved, another soldier was flung away like a ragdoll.

The thousands of weapons that had been dismantling Crest’s formation now hovered around Ghislain like a protective storm.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Spears shot forward, knocking mounted soldiers off their horses. Swords tore through knights’ armor, slicing into flesh. The weapons moved like living beasts, relentlessly seeking out weaknesses.

And in the midst of that storm of blades, Ghislain swung his staff. His movements were like a raging tempest, violent and unstoppable.

BOOM!

With each step he took, mana surged, and shrill screams followed in his wake.

“Tighten the encirclement! Catch that bastard!”

At someone’s command, the soldiers snapped out of their daze and charged toward him in perfect unison.

But it was unnecessary. Ghislain had already broken through their formation and was standing right in the middle of it.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

His staff spun at blinding speed, sending soldiers flying in every direction.

And with each flick of his fingers, the weapons in the air slashed and stabbed, cutting down enemy after enemy.

“We… we can’t even get close!”

“How the hell do we fight this?!”

“Why can’t the mages stop this?!”

Terror-stricken screams erupted across the battlefield. But there was nowhere to run.

By the time they realized it, Ghislain’s wall of blades had already trapped them inside.

“I suppose it’s time to wrap this up.”

A smile spread across Ghislain’s lips as he raised both hands toward the sky.

In that instant, every weapon hovering in the air shot upward.

And then—

FWOOOOSH!

Like a great tidal wave crashing down, thousands of blades rained from the sky.

The Crest soldiers instinctively looked up. Their eyes were filled with horror.

And then—

BOOOOOOM!

The storm of blades swallowed them whole.

Screams echoed across the battlefield.

Some tried to run.

Some tried to fight.

But it made no difference.

They were all devoured by the whirlwind of steel.

A Superhuman.

A being who had surpassed the limits of human strength, possessing overwhelming power.

It was said that a single Superhuman could stand against an army of ten thousand.

And right now—Ghislain was proving that fact beyond any doubt.

However, Ghislain had a weakness.

This body wasn’t his own.

This wasn’t the body of a true Superhuman—it was only a mere sixth-circle vessel.

There was a limit to how long he could push it.

“Kh…!”

A sharp pain wracked his body as he coughed up blood.

It seemed that he had reached his limit.

But it didn’t matter.

More than half of the enemy soldiers were already dead or incapacitated. The ones still standing had completely lost their will to fight.

Look.

Even as he coughed up blood, none of them dared to approach him.

“…A… a monster…”

“How the hell does a mercenary have that kind of power…?”

“H-he just took down 5,000 men by himself. Is he really a Superhuman…?”

Ghislain’s final attack had utterly devastated the battlefield. Crest’s soldiers, having witnessed it firsthand, stood frozen in absolute terror.

For a brief moment, silence hung over the battlefield.

The only sound came from Ghislain, spitting out the last of the blood in his mouth.

Then, a grin stretched across his pale face.

“Well, I’m off now. That was fun.”

Fwoosh!

Ghislain swiftly retreated.

He could still fight, but he needed to conserve what little mana he had left.

The Crest soldiers, still paralyzed by fear, simply watched him go.

Wasn’t he powerful enough to kill all of them?

Then why was he suddenly retreating?

Confusion filled their minds.

Then, the commanders snapped back to their senses and shouted.

“After him! Kill him now!”

“Don’t let him escape!”

“CHASE HIM DOWN!”

The soldiers snapped out of their daze.

Why would someone that strong retreat?

It could only mean one thing—

He was out of strength.

Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.

“AAAAAHHHH!”

The Crest army let out a battle cry, giving chase.

This was their only chance.

They had to kill him, no matter what.

They shouted as they ran, trying to shake off their lingering fear and rally their shattered morale.

Their entire focus was on Ghislain.

As if he was the only enemy on this battlefield.

But there were others who had been waiting for this exact moment.

Sitting atop his horse, Julien raised his sword forward.

The stance that Ghislain had drilled into him—night after night, with endless nagging—was now perfect.

“Troops…”

Julien’s quiet voice echoed across the battlefield.

“CHARGE.”

BOOM!

Julien spurred his horse forward, leading the charge.

Right behind him, Kyle and Tyron followed.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

At the same time, the entire army roared as they surged forward.

Victory was already in their grasp.