The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 701

Andrew and Leo anxiously waited for Ghislain. Even the soldiers didn’t touch the food and drinks they had been offered.

The Swipel forces had completely locked down the lord’s castle. This was no invitation to a feast—everyone present could feel it.

Andrew and Leo were supposed to enter, but no one was even calling them in anymore. It was clear from the start—Ghislain had been the true target.

Tensions ran high. Both sides had formed up in battle formations, watching each other warily.

Tyrone massaged the back of his neck and muttered,

“This is taking too long. What if we just charge in?”

“Hmm…”

Andrew bit his lip, deep in thought.

Ghislain had said he would give a signal when everything was ready. But there was still no sign from inside.

“Let’s wait a little longer.”

Despite his anxiety, Andrew chose to trust Ghislain. Moving their forces recklessly could ruin everything.

As they waited, suddenly—

BOOM!

A massive explosion erupted from inside the castle, and a pillar of fire shot into the sky.

Andrew and Leo’s faces lit up.

“It’s the signal!”

That was the sign Ghislain had promised—proof that the plan had succeeded.

The Swipel troops didn’t know what it meant, but they immediately sensed that something had gone terribly wrong.

By their original plan, the count should have emerged with his knights by now.

Their commanders panicked and shouted,

“Move! Get into the castle now! Something’s happened to the lord!”

Andrew immediately issued his own order.

“Stop them! Don’t let them get inside!”

“WAAAAAHHHH!”

The so-called feast was already forgotten. Both sides had been prepared for a fight, and they clashed instantly.

The strangest part?

The knights of Nodehill and Raks weren’t wielding blades. They were armed with iron clubs instead.

They were the first to charge into the Swipel soldiers, swinging their weapons wildly.

Thwack! Thud! Crack!

“You bastards think you can stop us?!”

“You’re in for it now! You’re all dead today!”

“Take all the anger I’ve built up!”

For some reason, the allied knights looked incredibly pissed off.

Having survived Ghislain’s hellish training, they were ruthlessly beating the Swipel troops into the ground.

The Swipel forces outside the castle had almost no knights—most had gone inside to oversee the supposed feast.

They were also outnumbered.

Stopping the crazed allied knights was nearly impossible.

“Hold the line! Stop them!”

The few commanding knights shouted, but the Swipel soldiers were collapsing too easily.

Meanwhile, Julien’s mercenaries moved swiftly.

At the very front, Osvald—wielding a massive hammer—charged ahead of even Tyrone.

“Osvald the Mighty! Today, I show my true strength! I shall never retreat!”

When the battle was in his favor, Osvald was one of the boldest fighters.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“ARGH!”

The Swipel soldiers couldn’t even reach the castle. They were getting beaten senseless.

But they had one stroke of luck—

Most of the powerful enemies weren’t using swords.

Because of that, they were getting knocked out instead of killed.

This, too, was Ghislain’s order.

If Count Swipel fell, his army could be absorbed instead of wiped out.

And now, the Swipel soldiers were feeling the overwhelming difference in power.

“W-What the hell? Why are they so strong?!”

“These bastards weren’t this powerful before!”

“Are we just weak…?”

Sure, the Swipel side had fewer troops—but the gap in skill was massive.

The enemy wasn’t even using blades, just clubs—and they were still losing.

Ghislain’s hellish training had pushed the allied army to the next level.

Fighting people was way easier than fighting monsters.

And now?

Now, they were letting out all their built-up frustration.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“AAAGGHHH!”

The Swipel forces collapsed in record time.

Their resolve, their skill—none of it could match the crazed allied warriors.

And just as they were getting pummeled, Ghislain’s voice boomed across the battlefield.

“EVERYONE, STOP!”

His shout was thunderous—but the battle didn’t immediately cease.

The soldiers were too caught up in the chaos.

Especially those who were venting their anger.

Ghislain sighed, adjusted his stance, and stomped the ground as he shouted again.

“COUNT SWIPEL HAS BEEN CAPTURED! STOP FIGHTING!”

BOOOOOM!

A massive shockwave rippled through the ground.

Finally, the soldiers turned their heads.

There, standing tall—

Ghislain was gripping Count Swipel by the collar.

The count, his face twisted in agony, clutched his shattered leg.

As the battle came to a halt, Ghislain continued.

“Count Swipel tried to assassinate us and betray Nodehill and Raks! It’s time he pays for his crimes!”

At that moment, the Swipel forces realized it—

They had completely lost.

If they had managed to capture Julien’s mercenary commanders inside the hall, the situation would have been different.

Even if the allied army was larger, they would have fallen into disarray upon hearing their leaders were captured.

And the Swipel knights—who had been inside—could have rejoined the battlefield.

But the high-ranking knights who had emerged with Ghislain?

They were unarmed.

They were untied.

And they had already surrendered.

“Wait… Three people… beat all those high-ranking knights?”

“And there was even a top-tier knight among them?”

“We can’t win against that…”

The Swipel soldiers let out exhausted sighs and dropped their weapons.

Even the elite knights Marquis Falkenheim had dispatched couldn’t wipe out Swipel’s forces.

And yet, the Julien Mercenary Corps had done it with just three people.

Continuing to fight such monsters would be insanity.

Surrender was the only logical choice.

Count Swipel’s face twisted in pure despair as he saw his soldiers laying down their arms.

“H-How… How did this happen…”

He had thought he was prepared—but his opponents had far surpassed his expectations.

Because of one mistake, he had lost everything.

By now, he should have been dividing up Count Crest’s lands.

Instead…

He had nothing.

As Andrew and Leo approached, Count Swipel crawled on the ground and begged.

“Baron Nodehill! Baron Raks! Please, spare me! I was foolish! I wasn’t thinking clearly!”

“……”

Neither of them spoke.

They simply turned to Ghislain.

Ghislain shrugged and smiled.

“I’ll leave his fate to you two.”

A heavy decision.

But they understood—it was theirs to make.

Ghislain was just a mercenary.

They were the ones who would rule this land.

Andrew glanced at Leo—who was visibly shaken.

Leo was too soft-hearted for this.

Andrew took a deep breath and stepped forward, drawing his sword.

“Count Swipel. You betrayed the alliance. You tried to kill us first. You have no right to complain if you die.”

“W-Wait! I already admitted my mistake! Please, spare me! I’ll give up my land and live quietly!”

Swipel grabbed Andrew’s ankle, begging.

His own soldiers were watching—

But he didn’t care anymore.

Andrew’s expression was firm.

“That’s not an option. If we let you live, you’ll become a threat to us.”

“No! I swear I won’t! I’ll live quietly! Please, just…”

THWACK!

Andrew swung his sword in one clean motion.

Count Swipel’s head tumbled to the ground.

His body collapsed into silence.

Andrew raised his sword high and declared,

“The Julien Mercenary Corps has triumphed over a treacherous assassination attempt! From now on, the Swipel territory is ours!”

“WAAAAAHHHH!”

The allied soldiers erupted into cheers.

The details didn’t matter—what mattered was that they had gained new land without suffering major losses.

The larger the territory, the greater the benefits for the soldiers.

And unlike many nobles, Andrew and Leo were generous rulers.

The troops’ joy was only natural.

Once the battlefield was settled, Ghislain wasted no time in calling a war council.

Since Marquis Falkenheim had drawn his sword, they had to move faster than before.

“As we discussed earlier, Baron Nodehill will take control of the Swipel territory, along with half of Crest’s lands. The remaining half will go to Leo.”

The land distribution had already been roughly decided.

Leo was a good lord, but he lacked the strength to become a dominant power in the kingdom.

So the plan was to push Andrew to the forefront while Leo supported him from behind.

Ghislain continued without hesitation.

“The next step is to report to the royal family and request official elevation of your titles.”

Just because they had seized a county didn’t mean they automatically became counts.

The royal family had to recognize and grant the noble titles.

The process was mostly formal, but it was necessary to maintain legitimacy.

“We should head to the capital soon. Once your ranks are officially elevated, you’ll need to stabilize your territories quickly. That’s the only way to ensure safety from Falkenheim’s threats.”

Andrew and Leo swallowed hard and nodded.

Things had escalated far beyond their expectations.

Honestly, they had no idea how it had come to this.

One moment, they were following Ghislain’s plans…

And the next—

They were riding a dragon they couldn’t get off.

‘This is insane… there’s no getting out of this now…’

‘Why do the crises keep getting closer together…?’

As always, they had no choice.

If they wanted to survive, they had to keep moving forward.

Neither of them resented Ghislain for it.

They just wished things could slow down.

***

Ghislain’s group didn’t head straight for the capital.

Before that, they needed to integrate the Swipel forces and fully absorb the territory.

They also had to carefully decide what to do with the captured high-ranking knights.

Because of this, the administrators and soldiers were extremely busy.

Meanwhile, the mercenaries either trained or lounged around as usual.

And Ghislain?

He had rented out a large warehouse and started working on something alone.

“Nobody comes in. Ever. Got it? I want to be alone.”

With that strict order, no one dared to approach.

Everyone just went about their daily routines.

But after about a month, strange rumors began spreading among the soldiers guarding the warehouse.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The mage staying in that warehouse… he’s really sick.”

“Astion? Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“His head.”

“What do you mean?”

The soldier glanced around, then whispered,

“He keeps talking to someone who isn’t there. Constantly muttering to himself. They say the lord locked him in the warehouse because of it.”

“Wha—?! Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He’s got split personalities or something. Even now, I bet he’s in there talking to himself.”

In reality, when Ghislain spoke to Astion, he usually did it mentally—

So he wouldn’t look like a madman talking to himself.

But when he was relaxed, he sometimes spoke out loud.

Naturally, servants overheard it.

Ghislain usually brushed it off as talking to himself…

But the real problem was when Astion took over his body for magic training.

Astion wasn’t used to communicating silently.

So whenever they talked, he spoke out loud—a lot.

And not just that—Astion had a habit of muttering to himself.

“…What exactly is he muttering about?”

“He says… he wants to fall in love.”

“What?”

“He reads books, and out of nowhere, he goes, ‘I want to fall in love. I will fall in love.’”

“…Hah. He’s lost his mind over romance?”

“Exactly! I’ve never seen someone go crazy over love before!”

“Ugh. Love’s not even necessary. How can a strong mage lose his mind like this?”

“Well, mages do tend to go insane…”

“True. True. Let’s never become mages.”

The rumors spread fast.

And before Astion even realized it—

His reputation was plummeting.

And just as people whispered—

Ghislain was inside the warehouse, muttering to himself.

But not about love.

He was in the middle of a critical magic experiment.

Carved into the warehouse floor was a massive magic circle.

A dark aura filled the air.

It had taken a full month to complete this project.

Ghislain’s exhausted face showed how much effort he had put in.

“Phew… Finally.”

Satisfied, Ghislain waved his staff through the air.

Dark mana seeped from the staff, slowly pouring into the magic circle.

From the formation, black mist began to rise.

The fog thickened, swallowing the entire warehouse.

FWOOOOSH!

The dark mist converged at the center of the magic circle—

Slowly taking shape.

Soon, it solidified into a figure clad in black armor and a dark helmet.

[…Where… is this…?]

A chilling voice echoed—

Like the wailing of a tormented soul.

Inside the helmet, red eyes burned ominously.

A black cloak billowed from the sheer force radiating from the figure.

A Death Knight.

A warrior returned from death—

Standing before Ghislain.