The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 294

Chapter 294: Time to Reap the Rewards (2)

Harold couldn’t accept it. This power was forbidden, a last resort that inevitably robbed its wielder of reason and life.

He had already lost everything. That was why he abandoned even his life, using such a grotesque power in an attempt to kill Ghislain.

But that power hadn’t worked.

Even after resorting to such a force he had sworn he’d never use until the end, he was still overpowered!

“Arghhhhhhh!”

Harold let out a distorted scream, swinging his fists wildly. However, his attacks were no better than those of a commoner flailing mindlessly.

Screech!

Ghislain sliced through Harold’s wrist.

“Gahhh!”

This time, it was almost too easy. Blood sprayed as Harold recoiled, a look of agony twisting his face.

Ghislain narrowed his eyes at the sight.

“As expected, it’s a bit different.”

It was evident that the mana technique’s quality was lower than what he had witnessed in his previous life.

When this power went berserk properly, it kept the user moving without feeling pain until they were decapitated. Their consciousness wouldn’t return, even at the brink of death.

Even Vanessa had only regained her senses when her core shattered, moments before her demise.

But Harold was far from that level, as if he had failed to fully transform into the monster he sought to become.

Harold shouted in disbelief, his bloodied face a mask of frustration.

“How! How can you withstand this power?! The transcendent power granted by the Ducal family!”

“The Ducal family…?”

Ghislain finally understood the situation. As he had suspected, this mana technique didn’t belong to Harold personally. It was distributed by the Ducal family to their subordinates.

But for them to teach such a technique even to Harold, a high-ranking noble? And its power was far weaker than what Ghislain had encountered in his past life.

“Could there be different grades of this flawed mana technique? Or is the Ducal family still refining it?”

Indeed, in his previous life, he hadn’t encountered users of this technique until much later. Perhaps each individual had mastered a different version, or maybe the method had improved over time.

In his past life, he had overlooked it as an insignificant detail. But now, seeing a technique similar to his own being pursued, it bothered him.

Ghislain wanted to interrogate Harold further, but he knew the man wouldn’t give him any useful answers.

“Transcendent power, he says. And yet he truly believed in something so… pathetic?”

The power he had seen in his previous life had been far more polished. It enabled ordinary knights to wield the strength of a master.

Ghislain nodded as if coming to a conclusion.

“As I thought, this is still an incomplete version of the mana technique being developed by the Ducal family.”

If a higher-grade version of the technique existed, they wouldn’t have given someone as important as Harold such a shoddy version.

“…How do you know that?”

Harold’s expression was one of pure shock. This was a secret known only to a select few within the Ducal family.

But Ghislain had spoken as if he knew all about the Ducal family’s ongoing research and refinement of mana techniques.

“What… What are you?!”

Watching Harold’s outburst, Ghislain reduced the stage of his core activation by another level. There was no need to maintain the third stage any longer.

Harold’s body was already withering, aging rapidly.

Without his mana technique functioning, he couldn’t draw on its strength. Meanwhile, the rampant energy consumed his lifeforce at an accelerated rate.

Seeing Harold’s deteriorating state, Ghislain smirked.

“Let’s just say I’m someone who’s returned from the dead.”

“What?”

“To destroy you and the Ducal family.”

“Someone like you… Someone like you! Someone like you dares to challenge me!”

Harold could no longer hold his sword. All he could do was scream, tears of blood streaming down his face.

Step. Step.

Ghislain walked slowly toward Harold.

Even if he waited, Harold would shrivel up and die. But…

“Such a death would be too much of a luxury for you.”

The Ducal family may have orchestrated the destruction of Ferdium, but Harold had carried it out.

He had killed Elena, incited the territorial war, and ultimately trampled over Ferdium. Even in this life, he had plotted tirelessly to bring about Ferdium’s ruin.

Letting someone like that die peacefully wasn’t an option.

Ghislain picked up Harold’s sword and infused it with mana.

Crack!

The blade shattered into fragments, scattering across the ground.

Using threads of mana, Ghislain lifted the shards into the air and smiled.

“Now, it’s time for you to pay for your sins, Count Harold Desmond.”

Shhhick!

“Arrghhhh!”

Harold screamed in agony as shards of the sword embedded themselves into his body.

The fragments relentlessly stimulated his nerves, intensifying the pain to the point where his mind only grew sharper instead of fainting.

“Arghhhhh!”

Covered in blood, Harold collapsed to the ground, letting out continuous wails.

He thrashed for a long time before finally stopping, reduced to a decrepit old man with his hair and teeth completely gone. Only then did his convulsions cease.

With the last remnants of his strength, he moved his lips faintly.

“You… the Ducal family… will surely…”

And so, Harold died with his eyes half-open and his mouth agape.

Ghislain looked at him briefly, then muttered in a dry tone.

“A pitiful death befitting someone like you.”

The news of Harold’s death spread quickly through Desmond’s forces.

Already surrounded by the Ferdium and Kingdom armies after their center had crumbled, the remaining Desmond soldiers immediately threw down their weapons or fled upon hearing the news.

Gordon, a senior knight of Fenris, was the first to rush to Ghislain. Blood dripped from his mouth, but his voice was jubilant.

“We’ve won! My lord, we’ve won! It’s a great victory! We’ve defeated Desmond’s forces, the so-called strongest in the North!”

“Hurraaaah!”

Cheers erupted from all sides. They had achieved an extraordinary victory against an army of 30,000, one that would surely go down in history.

While everyone was celebrating, Ghislain spoke to Gordon with a stern expression.

“Immediately gather everyone who can still move, mount them on horses, and follow me.”

“What? Why now? We should be organizing the battlefield, collecting spoils, and resting!”

“Leave the battlefield organization to my father and the Kingdom forces. Tell them I’ll express my gratitude later. Move quickly. We need to seize Desmond’s castle and major fortresses right away.”

“Desmond’s?”

Gordon looked puzzled. Desmond’s main force had already been annihilated, leaving the region defenseless.

It should have been a simple matter to march in and claim the territory. Who would dare oppose them now?

Even if someone tried to take over the empty lands, the war had just ended. It would take time for others to learn of the outcome and take action.

Any army trying to mobilize would need time to prepare. Besides, Ghislain’s side had the legitimate justification for claiming the land. No one in the North would dare challenge an army that included the Kingdom forces.

“Why the rush? That land already belongs to us. There’s no one who can, or would, try to take it.”

Gordon’s argument was perfectly reasonable. However, Ghislain shook his head.

Most wouldn’t, but there was one person in the North who could.

Someone who already had an army prepared, who could move faster than anyone, and who wouldn’t fear the Kingdom forces.

That person was undoubtedly keeping tabs on this battlefield and would act as soon as the outcome became clear.

This was now a race to claim Desmond’s territory.

“I’ll explain later. Move now.”

Ghislain mounted Black King immediately. Everyone was exhausted from the battle, making it difficult to move quickly. Still, time was of the essence.

Before they could fully bask in their victory, Ghislain and Fenris’ forces set off in haste toward Desmond’s lands.

—

“Spare us!”

“We made a mistake!”

“I’ll give you ample compensation!”

The Northern lords, bloodied and bound, knelt on the ground, their voices trembling as they begged for their lives.

They were pleading with none other than Amelia, the one they had attacked.

The Northern lords had formed a coalition to strike against her with great confidence, only to be utterly crushed and taken prisoner.

As their pitiful cries filled the air, Amelia replied in a languid tone.

“You all banded together to stab me in the back, and now you’re begging for your lives?”

The captured lords, their faces pale, shouted in desperation.

“We surrendered! According to custom, you must spare us!”

“I’ll never oppose you again!”

“I’ll give you half of my territory’s wealth as ransom!”

Their pleas were pathetic, yet Amelia didn’t even raise an eyebrow as she gave her cold response.

“I don’t let anyone who defies me off the hook. Finish them.”

Nyaang.

With Bastet’s cry echoing in the background, the knights surrounding them began dragging the lords away.

“W-wait! Please, spare us!”

“We surrendered, didn’t we?”

“You heartless witch! Even in death, I won’t forgive you!”

The lords were dragged away, spitting curses, pleas, and threats. Amelia, who watched them without any particular emotion, turned her gaze toward the distant castle and frowned slightly.

“Baron Valois… still cowering in his castle.”

Despite the ruse to lure him out and the arrival of the coalition forces, Baron Valois had refused to show himself.

Even with the situation seemingly in his favor, he hadn’t taken the bait.

What Amelia didn’t know was that Baron Valois had indeed considered leaving his castle when the coalition forces arrived. He thought their combined strength might offer a real chance of victory.

But he couldn’t shake the advice—or rather, the warning—Ghislain had given him.

“No matter what happens, never leave the castle to fight. Even if it looks like an opportunity, it isn’t one.”

The arrival of the coalition forces certainly seemed like a chance. Yet the words in that letter haunted him, as if they had predicted this exact moment.

Adding to his hesitation was none other than Daven.

“Let’s go out now! Let’s crush that wench completely! With the Northern lords here, we can win!”

Daven, the fourth prince of Raypold, was utterly useless except for his penchant for debauchery. His foolish confidence only made Valois trust him less.

In the end, Valois hesitated too long and missed the moment to act.

Though he regretted it, what he witnessed next left him speechless.

The Northern coalition army of 5,000 was annihilated by the Raypold forces without putting up much of a fight.

Baron Valois felt a chill run down his spine. The result wouldn’t have been any different had he joined them.

“So that’s why the siege was so half-hearted… They were waiting for this exact scenario.”

His mind spiraled with doubt. While he could hold out a little longer, the outcome was already set in stone.

“Amelia… what a terrifying woman. Her success in the rebellion wasn’t luck. What a shame. If she had been born a man, she would’ve made a remarkable heir.”

The thought only made Daven, who Valois was protecting, seem even more pathetic.

After the Northern coalition’s annihilation, Daven locked himself in his room, too terrified to step outside. He feared Amelia might have him killed at any moment.

But what could Valois do? He had sworn loyalty to the former Count of Raypold. No matter how much he disliked Daven, he had to protect him and fight the usurper, Amelia.

As Valois and his men lay low like cornered rats, something unexpected happened.

The Raypold forces began dismantling their camp and preparing to retreat.

“Why… Why are they retreating?”

Valois didn’t yet know it, but the cause was the news of the war between Ghislain and Harold.

A messenger stationed in Fenris had been watching the situation closely. As soon as Fenris’ victory became clear, the messenger rode off immediately, in accordance with Amelia’s orders.

“I couldn’t confirm whether Count Harold Desmond is alive or dead, but Fenris’ forces have clearly gained the upper hand. Desmond’s main army has been annihilated, and the remnants are surrounded by Ferdium’s forces and the 3rd Legion. There’s no chance of a Desmond victory.”

Amelia’s eyes glinted, and her lips curled into a twisted smile.

“Ghislain… I didn’t expect this from him. Even with the Kingdom forces’ support, defeating Harold’s 30,000 troops is no small feat.”

She had doubted his chances of success, but Ghislain had proven to be anything but ordinary. No, at this point, she had to acknowledge him as truly formidable.

With Harold defeated, the title of the North’s strongest would now belong to Ghislain—if he managed to claim Desmond’s lands.

But Amelia wasn’t about to let him seize Desmond so easily.

Her gaze turned icy as she gave an order to Bernarf.

“Prepare for immediate retreat. We’ll seize Desmond first.”

As Ghislain watched Harold’s final moments, Amelia’s Raypold forces were already marching toward Desmond under her command.