The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 240: Deception, Encirclement, and Annihilation (4)

I infused my axe with mana. Even though it struck the exact spot I was aiming for, the blade didn’t sink in deeply.

Frustrated, I reached out and attempted to bind Custou’s body with threads of mana.

“Arrghhh!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Custou, feeling something restraining his body, let out a beastly roar, breaking free in an instant. This guy was even more of a monster than I’d anticipated.

“This… this is similar to Viktor, isn’t it? No, maybe his body surpasses even that.”

Viktor, who once sought to become the greatest swordsman in the North, came to mind. Though I killed him during the Battle of Ferdium, his strength had been anything but trivial.

Custou might lack Viktor’s technique, but his raw power and durability far exceeded it.

He made up for his lack of skill with overwhelming physical prowess.

“Die! Just die already!”

Meanwhile, Custou, his eyes red with rage, swung his axe wildly in all directions, living up to the name of a barbarian warrior. Even if he was smarter than most of his kind, he couldn’t hide his savage nature.

Had it been anyone else, they’d have been crushed by his sheer force and speed. But against me, Ghislain, whose swordsmanship had reached its peak, it was useless.

Of course, that didn’t mean I could approach recklessly. One clean hit from that axe, and my body would be pulverized instantly.

Boom! Boom!

The ground split continuously. With his already lacking technique compromised further by his rage, Custou’s attacks failed to land on me at all.

“Why! Why!”

Custou had believed himself to be unmatched in the North. Yet, here I was, evading him like a slippery eel.

He came to see me as a monster after I had butchered his warriors, but facing me directly proved far more horrifying than he had anticipated.

“Arrrgh!”

Custou roared, swinging his axe with all his might.

He only needed one strike to connect. That would be enough to ensure my bones couldn’t even be recovered.

Booom!

Yet again, his all-out attack missed. The excessive force left his shoulder wide open, exposing a glaring weakness.

Not one to miss an opening, I immediately discarded one of my axes and leapt behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck.

If a single strike wasn’t enough to kill him, it meant my attacks lacked power. And if I lacked power?

“Then I just have to keep hitting until he’s dead.”

Grinning, I raised my axe high.

“You bastard!”

Custou, seething with rage, tried to grab me, but my axe was faster, swinging toward his head.

Thud!

“Gahhh!”

Custou let out a guttural cry as he instinctively channeled all his mana to shield his head.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

I, too, drew upon my mana and mercilessly hammered my axe into Custou’s skull. Yet, even then, his head refused to crack easily.

I clicked my tongue at the incredible density of his skull. By any normal standard, this should have been enough to kill him.

“This guy’s a complete monster. Was he born with divine power or something?”

Rarely, some individuals were born with divine power. Even without learning mana or training, they exhibited extraordinary physical abilities.

Their muscle density, bone structure, and durability were fundamentally different from ordinary people.

Custou seemed to be one of those rare beings.

Which made me wonder.

‘Why didn’t this guy unite the tribes in my previous life? Someone else did.’

With his monstrous strength, he could have simply bulldozed through any warriors’ attacks and crushed them.

Even now, if Custou had led the charge instead of staying in the rear to preserve his forces, our defensive line might have already collapsed.

‘Is he overly cautious and protective of himself? Or is it pride as a tribal leader?’

My thoughts didn’t linger for long. Custou abandoned his weapon and attempted to grab me with both hands.

Nearby warriors took the opportunity to attack me as well.

“Not so fast!”

I leapt off Custou’s body, dispatching two approaching warriors with lightning-quick strikes.

During that time, Custou retrieved his weapon and charged at me again.

“This guy’s too damn tough,” I muttered, dodging another attack. Conventional methods clearly wouldn’t work on him.

Scanning the surroundings, I saw that the number of warriors had drastically dwindled. The tide had turned in our favor. Thanks to perfect execution of our ambush and encirclement, our losses were negligible.

“Now, I just need to kill this bastard quickly.”

If this monster were allowed to rampage, allied casualties would inevitably increase.

Ghislain began gathering mana into his axe.

Ziiing!

The axe quivered as an immense surge of mana concentrated within it. Dodging Custou’s relentless attacks, Ghislain continued to accumulate and compress the energy.

Unlike when he breached the gates of Cabaldi Castle, he couldn’t afford the luxury of gathering mana for an extended period. However, thanks to his rigorous training, he had become proficient enough to condense and unleash a substantial amount even in battle.

Flare!

Crimson mana coalesced into a seething, rippling mass. Ideally, this mana would be further refined and compressed, but there was no time for such calm precision.

Vwooom!

“Dieeeee!”

Custou’s massive axe came hurtling toward Ghislain, who had briefly paused to concentrate. It was as if Custou sensed this as his final chance, pouring every ounce of his strength into the attack.

The axe swung down with such ferocity that it seemed it could cleave him in half. But Ghislain gripped his axe with both hands and struck with all his might.

BOOOOM!

A thunderous explosion rang out as Custou’s colossal axe shattered instantly.

The battlefield fell silent as every warrior froze, turning to the source of the noise.

There, in the midst of the battlefield, stood Ghislain, crimson smoke swirling around him as he drove his axe toward Custou’s head.

THUNK!

Even with enough force to obliterate a giant steel axe, the blade only managed to sink halfway into Custou’s skull.

Such monstrous durability was unheard of.

Yet, no matter how strong someone was, surviving with half their skull cleaved open was impossible.

Ghislain let go of his axe and leapt down to the ground.

“Y-you… this… bastard…”

Custou, bleeding profusely from his forehead and eyes, tried to grab him. But his trembling hands failed to reach Ghislain.

“You… you…”

Muttering the same word repeatedly, Custou’s eyes lost their light. Slowly, his massive body collapsed to the ground.

Thud!

The barbarians fighting nearby were too preoccupied with their immediate battles to realize Custou had fallen.

Ghislain climbed atop Custou’s lifeless body and bellowed.

“The Great Chieftain Custou is dead!”

Barbarian warriors gasped in horror, their eyes widening at the declaration. Custou had been the strongest among them, not just here but arguably in all the North.

“Custou… is dead?”

“How could we lose, even with this many warriors gathered…?”

“Defeated by Ferdium of all places…?”

The remaining barbarians lost what little will to fight they had left.

Some tried to resist with a final burst of desperation, but their actions were futile. They were already surrounded, their ranks decimated, and more of them continued to fall.

Crack! Crack!

“Arrrgh!”

Thud! Thud!

The sound of weapons striking flesh, bodies collapsing, and dying screams echoed across the battlefield.

Thud! Thud!

Thud…

And then, the battlefield fell silent. Only the labored breathing of the survivors could be heard.

A decisive victory.

Not a single barbarian escaped alive.

“It’s finally over…”

One knight murmured, and his words served as a signal. One by one, the soldiers began to remove their helmets and drop their weapons.

The ground, now a lake of blood, reflected their exhaustion. But no one seemed to care.

Thump.

Skovan lay back on the blood-soaked ground, too drained to stand. As he caught his breath, a chuckle escaped his lips.

‘Unbelievable.’

To completely annihilate a force of thousands of barbarians with less than half their numbers.

Has Ferdium ever achieved such a feat? No. Not once in Skovan’s time as a knight.

They had always fought defensively from within fortresses, only occasionally pursuing small groups of raiders.

But to meet the barbarians in open battle and achieve such a decisive victory? This was unprecedented.

The exhilaration was overwhelming. Though Ghislain’s presence had changed things since the beginning, this victory surpassed all others. Skovan couldn’t even begin to describe how he felt.

So he simply laughed and shouted with all his might.

“Hahahahaha! We won! We killed them all! We’ve won! Damn it, all hail the Young Lord! Hahahaha!”

His laughter sparked a chain reaction. All the knights and soldiers raised their arms and cheered.

“Hurraaaah! We’ve won!”

“We’ve triumphed!”

“They’re all dead!”

Their joy was uncontainable. And everyone knew who was responsible for this monumental victory.

Their cheers and shouts soon converged toward a single figure.

The man standing in the middle of the battlefield, drenched in blood, grinning.

“The Young Lord has done it again!”

Zwalter shook his head as he watched Ghislain mingling with the soldiers, laughing together.

‘Every time I see him, I’m amazed.’

This recent battle had confirmed it. Revising the mana training method wasn’t just a reckless whim.

Ghislain already possessed skills superior to anyone in Ferdium.

But what was even more astounding lay elsewhere.
‘Where could he have possibly gotten such gall?’
From Ghislain, Zwalter sensed a composure that even he, who had spent a lifetime on the battlefield, couldn’t muster. There was hardly any sign of excitement from their victory.

The expression and demeanor of his son conveyed only a sense that the outcome was inevitable.

He had felt something similar during the Ferdium defensive battle, but at the time, he dismissed it as a fleeting impression. Ghislain had immediately moved to conquer Digald, leaving no time for proper confirmation.

Zwalter hadn’t paid much attention to his son due to being absent for most of Ghislain’s childhood. From what he remembered, Ghislain had never possessed such a personality.

What could have transformed his son so drastically?

‘And his strategies—just extraordinary. How could everything align so perfectly?’

Although he had been startled when Ghislain charged in alone contrary to their plans, the results had unfolded exactly as planned.

He had accurately predicted the movements of the savages. Zwalter couldn’t help but be impressed.

‘He said he devised them with that man named Claude?’

Controlling the flow of battle requires gathering information. Only by analyzing that information to predict the enemy’s actions can one formulate the most effective strategies.

According to Ghislain, Claude was the one who gathered the intelligence and helped devise the plans.

‘If that’s true, he’s truly remarkable….’

“Aiiigh! Our lord won again! Oh, how many wins is this now? Let’s ignore the small stuff and count just the big ones—three battles, three victories, right? Or should we include the last one and say four for four?”

Just then, Claude appeared, dragging Wendy behind him, speaking in a theatrical, syrupy tone. He bent his back deeply and rubbed his hands together like a sycophant.

Zwalter briefly felt disillusioned as he observed this.

‘No matter how you look at it, this guy’s a sycophant. He looks like someone who’d accept bribes without hesitation.’

The man’s every movement was light and fidgety, as if he lacked any solid core.

It was hard to believe someone like him could gather such critical information and devise strategies.

Claude, ignoring Zwalter’s suspicious gaze, turned to Ghislain and said,

“We’ve secured thousands of additional horses in this battle. Isn’t it about time we head back? I really want to go home.”

They had already swept through several smaller tribes, accumulating a substantial number of horses. In addition to the horses seized from this battle, conquering the enemy’s villages would likely suffice.

But Ghislain shook his head.

“Since we’re here, we might as well take more.”

“We’ve been gone too long. Count Desmond might try something again while we’re away. He’s probably already learned we’re not at our estate,” Claude argued.

He wasn’t wrong. Two months had passed since their arrival here. Given the geographical proximity to Desmond’s territory, staying away for too long could lead to complications.

“Don’t worry. I’ll wrap things up soon. By the way, have the prisoners been allowed to observe the battle as I instructed?”

“Yes, I ensured a few watched the entire fight from start to finish.”

“Good. Release them on horseback and let them spread the word.”

“Understood. That should make dealing with the rest of them a bit easier.”

“Exactly. After a beating like this, they won’t dare underestimate us anymore.”

Listening to their exchange, Zwalter cleared his throat and interjected.

“Ahem, well done. You’ve performed excellently once again.”

“You’ve done well too, Father. As expected of Ferdium’s army—they executed the plan perfectly.”

“Of course! Who do you think trained them?”

Zwalter puffed out his chest with pride, a deliberate display of confidence.

Though Ferdium’s army was small and poorly equipped, Zwalter took pride in their skills, honed through rigorous training and real combat experience.

They had executed Ghislain’s strategy almost flawlessly this time too.

While indulging in some inward self-praise, Zwalter posed a question that had been on his mind.

“But are you sure it’s wise to release the prisoners? What if they regroup and return in greater numbers?”

In response to his father’s concerned inquiry, Ghislain grinned broadly.

“Don’t worry. For now, we’ve just given them a reason to avoid fighting us.”