The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 258
Chapter 258: Fighting for Real Today? (1)
Ghislain and the knights, preparing to set out for a hunt, encountered a peculiar group.
The knights, seeing Doncard for the first time, all shared the same thought.
‘Disgusting…’
‘Does that guy even bathe?’
‘A king, you say? More like the King of Beggars.’
Doncard was filthy beyond words. His unkempt, matted hair and tangled beard were enough to make anyone feel greasy just by looking at him. His entire body was covered in unidentifiable stains.
The stench was overpowering. It was so bad that everyone nearby instinctively stepped back. Even his own subordinates maintained some distance from him.
And yet, despite his repulsive appearance, there was one thing about him that made it impossible to dismiss him outright—his eyes.
Those eyes resembled a predator’s, endlessly thirsting for blood. It was clear at a glance that this man had long abandoned his humanity.
He was little more than a filthy beast that lived solely to eat, sleep, and hunt, having forsaken all semblance of civilization.
“Keugh… I heard some new faces have been messing with our hunting grounds… Who’s the leader here?”
Doncard’s slow, drawling voice slurred as he looked over Ghislain and the knights. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he spoke.
Kaor and the knights turned to look at Ghislain. Naturally, Doncard, his subordinates, and the onlookers followed suit, all eyes now fixed on Ghislain.
“So, it’s you… the leader, huh…?”
Doncard swallowed his dripping saliva and asked again.
In response, Ghislain draped an arm around Kaor’s shoulder and grinned.
“From now on, this guy’s going to be the boss around here.”
Kaor turned to Ghislain in surprise and asked, “Does that mean I’m… the lord of Fenris now?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what kind of boss?”
“Well, I’ll be heading back after I finish my training, right? If you want to live comfortably here, you need to take charge. Otherwise, how are you going to keep these guys in line and make things easier for yourself?”
Kaor nodded. Without a lord around, he was undoubtedly the strongest here. That much was obvious.
Doncard watched Kaor with amusement and began to chuckle.
“Heh heh… All right. Then I have a proposal for you…”
Kaor, now the acting boss, confidently stepped forward.
“What proposal?”
“You all seem pretty skilled… Why don’t you join me? I’ll make sure you’re treated well.”
“Hm.”
Kaor tilted his head at that and then turned to Ghislain.
“What should I do in a situation like this?”
“That’s for you to decide. If I leave, maybe you can get along with him under his command.”
Ghislain laughed as he spoke, and Kaor snorted, turning back to Doncard.
“Why don’t you join me instead? Do that, and I’ll let you live.”
Kaor’s confident words made everyone around burst out laughing. It had been a long time since someone had dared to speak so insolently to Doncard.
New faces always brought entertainment. That was an undeniable truth.
Doncard also smiled as he glanced at Ghislain and the knights. But his sharp eyes gleamed dangerously.
‘There are too many of them… Taking them all down would be risky…’
It wasn’t because of any law against killing. Such laws were only for show, a pretense.
The real issue was that these people were no pushovers, and their numbers posed a challenge. While he could likely wipe them out, it wasn’t worth the risk, especially with the monster horde season approaching.
If his group suffered injuries or losses, it would weaken his position and leave them vulnerable to attacks from rival hunters.
But leaving them alone wasn’t an option either. Those in power could not afford to ignore challenges to their authority. It was how organizations functioned.
Doncard stared at Kaor and spoke.
“Let’s settle this with a one-on-one fight… If I win, you give up the inn and leave this place. If you still want to hunt monsters, find another fortress… Or you can leave now if you’re scared.”
“Hah? A one-on-one fight? Against me, the genius swordsman of the Ritania Kingdom?”
No one had ever called him that. Doncard smirked.
“Yeah… Of course, killing is off-limits, so let’s do this with our fists… Though if you die from the beating, that’s your problem… Heh heh heh.”
“This bastard’s all talk, huh?”
Kaor, never one to back down from provocation, stepped forward, visibly irritated.
Behind him, Ghislain called out nonchalantly, “Hey, you’ve got this, right? Just do what I taught you.”
“Watch closely. I’m going to crush this guy right here.”
Kaor cracked his neck on both sides as he smiled. Doncard responded with a faint smirk, stepping closer to him.
Soon, the crowd parted, creating a wide-open space. Everyone moved without hesitation—such duels were common here, and they all seemed accustomed to it.
The moment the space cleared, Doncard launched a sudden punch.
Boom!
Kaor quickly crossed his arms to block the blow. A numbing sensation spread through his arms, and for the first time, a flicker of tension set in.
Doncard continued grinning slyly, his lips curling upward.
‘Not bad… Let’s see how you handle a bit more strength.’
Boom! Boom!
Doncard’s punches became faster as he channeled his mana. Despite his filthy appearance, his skill was undeniable.
“Guh!”
Kaor was taken aback. Doncard’s strength far exceeded his expectations.
‘What the hell? This guy’s strong!’
Kaor had fought many knights during the wars he participated in. He was well aware that he was one of the strongest knights in the North.
Thanks to Ghislain’s teachings, his skills had improved even further, to the point where he believed no ordinary knight could rival him.
But as the fight dragged on, Kaor found himself being pushed back.
‘Damn it! This bastard isn’t messing around!’
Doncard’s punches were unpredictable, their patterns erratic and difficult to read. Even Kaor, who prided himself on adapting to unconventional attacks, was impressed.
It was clear that Doncard wasn’t called a king in this harsh land without reason.
‘Stay calm. I need to stay calm.’
However, despite his thoughts, Kaor’s movements grew increasingly disorganized.
Ghislain had taught him the basics and even advanced swordsmanship, helping Kaor overcome his previous limitations.
But mastering such high-level techniques in such a short time was unrealistic. Skills that took years to internalize couldn’t be perfected in mere weeks.
From the sidelines, Ghislain clicked his tongue as he observed Kaor’s performance.
“Tsk, tsk. It’s always the same with him—impatience is his biggest flaw.”
Changing one’s nature was difficult, especially when it was something ingrained through countless life-and-death battles.
As the fight wore on, Kaor reverted to his old habits, aiming desperately for vital points in an attempt to finish things quickly.
His movements grew sloppier, and he fell back on the techniques and habits that had always felt most natural to him.
“Damn it!”
Kaor involuntarily gritted his teeth, his face twisting in frustration.
At first, a few of his punches had landed. But now, they were starting to miss entirely. Meanwhile, Doncard’s expression grew increasingly relaxed.
‘Heh heh… Watching him fight, I can tell he’s like me—someone who honed his skills purely through real combat. His abilities aren’t bad, but he’s failing to utilize them properly. He’s the type to run wild on a battlefield, only to get himself killed eventually.’
Doncard couldn’t help but chuckle. He could sense Kaor’s growing panic and impatience.
Doncard had survived countless battles in this place, honing his unique techniques through sheer experience.
Between his age and the wealth of combat knowledge he’d accumulated, he was naturally superior to Kaor in every way.
In essence, Doncard was a more refined and experienced version of Kaor.
Now fully in control, Doncard calmly blocked Kaor’s attacks while countering with precision.
Thud! Thud!
“Ugh!”
As Kaor took more hits, the accumulated damage began to wear him down.
His face started swelling, and blood dripped from his mouth, likely from a split lip.
The knights of Fenris, who were watching from the sidelines, were visibly stunned.
Kaor was considered one of the strongest warriors in the territory, yet Doncard was clearly gaining the upper hand.
‘This place really isn’t to be underestimated.’
‘These guys have spent years fighting monsters. Of course, they wouldn’t be pushovers.’
‘Were we just frogs in a well all along?’
Seeing their strongest fighter getting beaten, the knights couldn’t help but feel nervous. The confidence they had gained from initially overpowering the hunters quickly evaporated.
The onlookers, sensing the shift in momentum, began jeering at Kaor and cheering for Doncard.
“Ha ha ha! That’s what happens when you overestimate yourself! Fighting monsters was easier, huh?”
“Hey, redhead! Put up more of a fight! You started off strong, so what happened?”
“Doncard is really something else. No wonder they call him the King of Ironcliff. Catching over a thousand monsters isn’t just for show!”
Though many of the hunters disliked Doncard, they still relied on him. After all, he had killed more monsters than anyone else in the area.
Moreover, Ghislain’s group, who had suddenly appeared and disrupted the hunting grounds, wasn’t exactly endearing themselves to the hunters.
Kaor, sensing the shift in atmosphere, grew even angrier.
‘Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!’
Kaor felt as if a fiery rage was surging from deep within his chest. He couldn’t endure this humiliation.
‘If the old man were here, this wouldn’t be happening.’
Gillian was a man of iron. Rugged, yet with an immense, unshakable core beneath his exterior.
No matter how strong Doncard was, Gillian would have fought calmly and strategically. No, Gillian would have turned Doncard into a bloody pulp long ago.
The thought of Gillian’s abilities made them all the more real. But Kaor could never accept it.
‘I’m stronger than the old man!’
No matter how much he tried to calm himself, his mind refused to settle. His anger boiled over.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Now, every punch he threw missed. Doncard, as if toying with Kaor, dodged lightly while delivering quick counterpunches.
Thwack!
Doncard’s retaliatory punch struck Kaor on the jaw, sending him sprawling backward. The blow wasn’t even particularly strong—it felt more like he was being played with.
Kaor, overwhelmed with humiliation, sprang back to his feet, but the spectators jeered louder than before.
“Ha ha ha! This guy’s so weak! He came here acting tough with skills like that?”
“Look at him getting back up just because of his pride!”
“Hey, put some effort into it! Doncard hasn’t even used his finishing move yet!”
Kaor glared at the mocking crowd and shouted, “Shut up, you bastards! Once I’m done with this guy, I’ll kill every one of you too!”
His outburst, filled with frustration, only made things worse. The crowd laughed even harder.
“Damn it!”
Kaor ignored the jeers and lunged at Doncard again, unable to stand the mocking look in his opponent’s eyes.
“I’m the strongest! You bastard!”
“Yeah, sure.”
Kaor’s movements were too big and exaggerated. Doncard easily dodged and countered with another punch.
Thwack!
“Argh!”
This time, Doncard’s punch landed with real force, unlike before. Blood spurted from Kaor’s face as he stumbled backward.
‘Am I really this weak?’
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. Regret washed over him.
‘I should’ve trained harder…’
He had thought he’d mastered everything Ghislain had taught him. But now, in the heat of battle, he couldn’t recall a single thing.
All he could manage was to rely on the crude, chaotic techniques he had picked up in the past.
‘Am I just strong against weaker opponents?’
When he fought the knights under Count Cabaldi, Ghislain’s teachings had helped him secure easy victories.
But looking back, it was only because there was a noticeable gap in skill between them. That gap had given him the confidence and space to use what he’d learned.
Now, facing an opponent with more experience, he found himself unable to recall or apply anything he’d been taught.
‘This is always how it is with me…’
He should have trained properly instead of half-heartedly. Instead, he had learned the basics and grown complacent. He had been too bored to endure the monotony of daily training.
Those small gaps in his discipline had added up, leading to this moment.
‘The lord was right.’
He was the kind of man who only acted when forced into a situation. That was why Ghislain had told him to fight life-or-death battles to improve his skills.
Otherwise, he would never have trained consistently on his own.
It was thanks to a bit of talent and luck that he had made it this far. His fiery determination only showed itself in the heat of battle, like a mad dog.
But when it came to effort, he lacked that same relentless drive. This humiliation was, in a way, a natural consequence. And that only deepened his self-loathing.
As Kaor staggered, Doncard approached him.
“Time to die, you bastard.”
Doncard grinned, exposing his yellowed teeth, and swung his fist with force. At that moment, Ghislain’s voice rang in Kaor’s ears.
— “Step to the right.”
Kaor’s body reacted instantly to Ghislain’s command. It was a result of his special training.
Swoosh.
“Huh?”
Doncard’s punch missed. Seizing the opening, Kaor drove his fist into Doncard’s side.
Thud!
“Guh!”
Doncard staggered back a step, and Kaor turned to glare at Ghislain, shouting, “Don’t interfere! I’ll handle this myself!”
The crowd stared at Kaor in disbelief. Ghislain hadn’t moved or spoken aloud, making it seem as though Kaor was picking a fight with him out of nowhere.
They didn’t know about the advanced technique Ghislain had used to transmit his voice through vibrations in the air. Only someone with Ghislain’s level of mana control—one of the Seven Strongest on the Continent—could perform such a skill.
Ignoring Kaor’s reaction and the crowd’s confusion, Ghislain continued calmly.
— “Focus. You have the skill to beat him and you know how. Your problem is that you haven’t fully internalized it and your impatience prevents you from using it. From now on, this is training. Real combat is always the best training. If you argue, I’ll put you through special training alone later.”
“Damn it! I said I’ll handle it—”
— “Step back.”
Swoosh.
Though annoyed, Kaor’s body moved reflexively again. Doncard’s punch once more missed its mark. Kaor swung his own fist, but Doncard dodged this time.
— “Move in.”
Kaor pushed off the ground and closed the gap, stepping into Doncard’s range. Before he could attack, Ghislain’s voice came again.
— “Half a step to the left.”
Kaor shifted slightly. Doncard’s face instinctively followed his movement.
— “Strike.”
Though it was a fistfight, Kaor had trained in swordsmanship. He simply adapted those skills to unarmed combat.
Following Ghislain’s instructions, Kaor thrust his fist forward like a sword.
Thud!
Blood sprayed into the air as Doncard’s nose crumpled and his head snapped backward.