The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations

Chapter 373

The Rodrick army was thrown into chaos as they realized they were surrounded.

“What? We’re surrounded?!”

“Hold the line! Quickly, hold the line!”

“Form ranks properly!”

The commanders bellowed their orders, but the soldiers were paralyzed by fear. The sudden awareness of their encirclement crushed their morale.

Even though they outnumbered the enemy significantly, the psychological impact of being surrounded made them feel like they were the ones being hunted.

They had already struggled to deal with just 400 enemies, and now, with the arrival of reinforcements, panic gripped their minds.

Boom!

“Aaaaaargh!”

The mercenaries of Fenris charged into the Rodrick forces. While their impact wasn’t as devastating as the knights’ initial charge, their momentum and morale were equally ferocious.

Dominic, leading the mercenaries, fought with unparalleled fervor, his sword slashing through enemies as he roared.

“It’s time to avenge our brothers!”

The mercenaries who had joined from other regions might not have shared the same emotions, but those of the Drake Mercenary Corps felt Dominic’s anger and determination.

“It’s finally happening!”

Dominic’s heart felt like it might burst. He hadn’t expected the opportunity to face the Rodrick forces would come so soon.

This was the chance to settle scores with the nobles who had oppressed them, even killing their families.

“Who would have thought our lord had such abilities?”

In truth, neither Dominic nor the mercenaries had any idea such a large-scale battle was taking place. They had been focused solely on transporting supplies as instructed by Ghislain.

Then, out of nowhere, a strange crow appeared and began speaking to him.

“—Hey, Dominic.”

“What the—?! Damn it! Who’s there?!” Dominic nearly swung his sword in shock.

“Calm down, you fool. It’s me, Dark. Gather all the mercenaries and head to Daeker Castle immediately. There’s a battle brewing. My master, Count Fenris, commands it.”

“...A talking crow? Seriously?”

At first, Dominic had been too startled to take Dark seriously and nearly attacked the bird. But Dark, equally startled, squawked indignantly.

“Show some respect, you insolent wretch! Treat me as you would treat your lord!”

“...And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

“I am Dark, a spirit sent by the Count. Now stop wasting time and rally all the mercenaries in the region. Head to Daeker Castle at once. The Rodrick army has 20,000 soldiers surrounding the fortress.”

“And why should I believe you?”

Dominic had known that Ghislain was currently at Daeker Castle, but trusting an unknown creature was another matter entirely.

Dark seemed prepared for this response and quickly retorted.

“Shall I publicly announce all those ‘X-rated items’ you’ve been hoarding? I could start with your—”

“Whoa, whoa! Okay, okay, calm down!”

The mere mention of revealing his secret stash almost made Dominic lose his temper, but he refrained from attacking the crow.

While Dominic’s inner circle was aware of his eccentricities, there were mercenaries from other regions present, and he couldn’t afford any embarrassment.

Dark smirked triumphantly, clearly enjoying the upper hand.

“Good. Now here’s the plan: divide the forces and surround the enemy on three sides. Once the Fenris knights engage, we’ll throw them into disarray and strike from all sides. Understood?”

“...Fine. I’ll do it. But transporting the supplies will have to wait—”

“Leave that for later. We can retrieve what’s left after the battle. For now, move quickly before the enemy launches their assault.”

Though Dominic remained skeptical, he took immediate action. He sent scouts to confirm Dark’s claims while simultaneously organizing the mercenaries.

“It’s true. The Rodrick forces are besieging Daeker Castle,” reported one of his scouts.

“Damn it! Move now!”

Dark’s words had been accurate. Uncertain of when the siege might escalate, Dominic wasted no time in mobilizing his troops.

His experience as a seasoned mercenary leader proved invaluable. Thanks to his swift coordination, the mercenaries arrived at Daeker Castle just in time.

Once Dark confirmed their approach, he informed Ghislain, allowing the Count to launch his initial assault with confidence.

“Well done, Dark. This is more useful than I expected,” Ghislain remarked.

With Dark acting as both a scout and a communications link, Ghislain gained a decisive advantage in managing the battlefield.

Dominic and the Drake Mercenary Corps fought with unrelenting fury, driven by their deep-seated hatred for the Marquis Rodrick .

“Don’t let a single one escape!”

“This is our chance to bleed the Marquis dry!”

“Fight without fear! Our fallen brothers are watching over us!”

The Rodrick soldiers struggled to withstand the ferocious charge of the mercenaries.

“Aaaaaargh!”

Fear spread like wildfire among the Rodrick ranks, causing many soldiers to fall in disarray. Panic clouded their judgment, and they could no longer make sound decisions.

Believing they were outnumbered, the soldiers imagined the enemy force to be as large as their own, amplifying their terror.

“Pull yourselves together! Counterattack!” shouted one commander.

The knights around Howard froze, paralyzed as they watched their commander fall.

“L-Lord Howard has fallen!”

“He cut down an advanced knight so effortlessly...”

“He’s unstoppable...”

In war, one of the most decisive factors in determining victory is the fate of the commander. And here, on this battlefield, the Rodrick forces had just lost their general.

The remaining knights realized something else, something far more chilling: even if they combined all their strength, they would never be able to stop this man.

Only now did they grasp that Ghislain had been holding back.

Surrounded by the thick, crimson haze of his mana, Ghislain turned his horse and bellowed.

“The enemy’s commander is dead!”

“WAAAAAH!”

The Fenris soldiers roared in response, their voices booming across the battlefield. They deliberately shouted louder, intent on breaking the enemy’s morale.

Ghislain leveled his blood-stained spear at the remaining knights. His gaze alone caused them to falter, instinctively stepping back. The soldiers surrounding them followed suit, retreating in unison.

“Shall we continue?”

BOOM!

Ghislain charged again, cleaving through the closest knights. Blood and flesh splattered as their bodies were torn apart.

“Run!” one knight screamed as he spun his horse around and fled.

A knight abandoning the battlefield was tantamount to throwing away their honor. But no one dared to rebuke him—because they were all doing the same.

“The knights are fleeing!”

“L-Let’s run too!”

“Get out of here! It’s over!”

Half the Rodrick forces still remained, but their retreat quickly devolved into a chaotic rout.

Ghislain scanned the battlefield with sharp eyes. The enemy still outnumbered his forces, even in their crumbling state. He could pursue and kill them all, but that would exhaust his troops. There were other ways to strike an even more devastating blow against the Marquis.

Raising his voice once more, Ghislain declared, “Throw down your weapons and flee, and you will be spared!”

It was the signal that the battle was over. The Fenris soldiers echoed his words with deafening cries.

“Throw down your weapons and flee, and you will be spared!”

The message reverberated across the battlefield, ensuring that every Rodrick soldier heard it.

“Run!”

“They’ll let us go if we drop our weapons!”

“Surrender! We surrender!”

Once an army begins to collapse, sheer numbers no longer matter. The Rodrick forces discarded their weapons and scattered in all directions like ants fleeing a flood.

None of them would make it back to the Marquis. In the western territories, where soldiers were abundant, deserters like these would be executed without hesitation. This punishment would ensure that, in future battles, soldiers would fight to the death rather than face such disgrace.

Over 10,000 casualties later, the Rodrick forces disintegrated entirely.

Ghislain watched the fleeing soldiers with a smile.

“Go on. Become proper bandits and thieves.”

With no homes to return to, the scattered remnants of the Rodrick army would have few choices. To survive, they would turn to looting and pillaging.

“They were never loyal to their lords anyway,” Ghislain muttered.

The western lords under the Marquis were weak, known for their incompetence. Their policy of maintaining minimal standing forces would now backfire spectacularly.

These deserters-turned-bandits would wreak havoc on their former territories, and the lords would struggle to contain them.

In one calculated move, Ghislain had sown chaos throughout the west without lifting a finger.

Returning to his normal form, Ghislain raised his spear high and shouted, “Victory is ours!”

His words were simple and succinct, but they carried weight.

“WAAAAAH!”

“We won!”

“The Rodrick forces weren’t so tough after all!”

Dominic and the Drake Mercenary Corps cheered louder than anyone, their voices tinged with the satisfaction of small but meaningful revenge against the Marquis.

The mercenaries from other regions, who had followed with some apprehension, were awestruck by Ghislain’s power.

For mercenaries, strength was everything, and Ghislain had proven himself beyond a doubt.

“Our leader is the best!”

The mercenaries chanted Ghislain’s name, their admiration evident. This victory had solidified their trust in him, and news of his strength would soon spread far and wide.

Ghislain watched their cheers with a smile. Nothing united mercenaries like strength. Slowly but surely, he would bring them all under his banner.

“Gather the spoils and prepare to move out! Take only what we can carry!” he ordered.

The battlefield was littered with weapons and armor. While it was impossible to take everything, they would seize enough to make the campaign worthwhile.

As his forces set about gathering the spoils, Ghislain turned his gaze toward the distant estate of the Rodrick Marquis.

“See you soon, Marquis Rodrick. Next time, I’ll make sure to end this.”

This was only the beginning.