The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 234: We’ll Strike First (1)

“Graaagh! Who are these bastards?!”

“Gather up! Quickly, gather!”

“Where did they come from?!”

The barbarians, who had been gleefully plundering, were suddenly attacked by knights, plunging them into chaos.

They had let their guard down, assuming the main force was occupied with the Northern Fortress’s troops. Focused solely on looting, they were caught completely off guard.

Knights appeared from all directions. Though the barbarians tried to mount a defense, their foes were far too strong.

Every one of the knights wielded mana. Even when the barbarians blocked with their axes, the axes shattered, and their heads flew off.

Barbarian warriors were undeniably formidable, often deemed capable of taking on three soldiers at once. However, even ten soldiers combined couldn’t stand against a single knight.

“You filthy bastards!”

One barbarian warrior, panicking as he scanned his surroundings, raised his axe to execute the captive he was holding. It was his cruel habit to take out his anger on the nearest helpless person.

Boom!

But before he could swing, a spear came flying from somewhere and shattered his skull.

Ghislain, who had thrown the spear, drew the sword at his waist and shouted, “Don’t let a single one live!”

“Yes, sir!”

Lucas, who responded the loudest, leapt off his horse and charged toward the barbarians like a bolt of lightning.

Boom! Boom!

“Urgh!”

Each time Lucas thrust his spear, barbarian helmets and skulls exploded in unison.

With every step he took, a barbarian warrior fell dead.

“Stop tormenting the weak and come fight me instead!”

Lucas’s booming voice echoed above the flames.

Under Ghislain’s guidance, Lucas’s skills were improving at an astonishing pace. His talent, befitting someone who had reached the level of a master with just a spear in his past life, was remarkable.

“What the hell?! Why is this guy so strong?!”

The barbarians were shocked at Lucas’s prowess. His spear moved so fast that it pierced through heads and torsos before they could even think to block with their axes.

Lucas, who loved showing off, wasn’t about to miss such an opportunity. He fought with all his might, saving as many people as he could.

The other knights also ran through the village, dispatching the barbarian warriors. In their urgency, they didn’t hold back their mana. Too many lives had already been lost.

The barbarians fought desperately to survive but couldn’t withstand the ambush from over a hundred knights.

“Graaaagh!”

“Curse you all!”

“Our comrades will avenge us!”

One by one, the barbarians fell, screaming. Since their raiding party wasn’t particularly large, it didn’t take long to subdue them.

Even after the barbarians were eradicated, the knights couldn’t feel any sense of victory. The village around them was a scene of devastation.

“Nooo! Mommy!”

“Honey, honey! Please open your eyes!”

“No, this can’t be! Please, just this once!”

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The survivors were wailing, clutching the bodies of their loved ones.

The flames that rose from all around robbed the villagers of their homes. The survivors would either have to spend years rebuilding their village or join another and live as outcasts.

This was the harsh reality of the North. In addition to its unforgiving environment, its people also had to endure constant threats from monsters and barbarian raids.

The barbarians were held at bay by the Ferdium Count’s family, but it was impossible to fend off every attack with limited resources.

When barbarians united or slipped past their watch, as they had this time, there were always villages that ended up paying the price.

Ghislain surveyed the area with a bitter expression.

‘If they’ve come this far south, they must be desperate for food.’

Over time, villages had relocated further south, thanks to Zwalter Ferdium’s long-standing migration policies aimed at reducing the damage caused by raids.

The villages that had been attacked this time were ones that had narrowly been excluded from those policies.

It would have been ideal to move them south as well, but relocating an entire village required immense resources. Finding arable land in the barren North was also no easy task.

Poor estates couldn’t afford much support. Ferdium had only recently begun to recover financially.

Abandoning their homes wasn’t an easy decision, and even if they did, finding a new place to settle was just as challenging. For the people here, it wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

The nearby territories, also plagued by barbarian threats, were too impoverished to offer any meaningful cooperation.

‘I’ll need to send more laborers to support them.’

The Fenris Estate had been relocating isolated villages closer to their castle and fortress, not just to prepare for war but also for future calamities. The Ferdium Count’s family intended to follow Fenris’s example, albeit gradually. Laborers were already being sent to pave roads and build essential facilities at strategic points.

There was much to prepare, but with the number of villages suffering damage this time, they planned to expand their aid efforts.

“Let’s head back. Take the survivors to the fortress.”

Leaving these people behind would doom them. They wouldn’t survive even another day without help. For now, they needed to stay at the fortress until they could be sent to a suitable village with supplies.

As Ghislain mounted his horse, preparing to leave, a child blocked his path.

It was the boy Ghislain had saved earlier.

Looking at the boy, Ghislain asked, “Do you have something to say?”

“You said… you’d protect us, right?”

“Yes. What happened today is tragic, but I promise such things won’t happen again.”

At Ghislain’s resolute answer, the boy hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I want to fight alongside you.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen.”

Ghislain quietly observed the boy.

Fifteen—he was close to adulthood. However, his small, frail frame, likely due to malnourishment, made him look much younger.

“It’s too early for you. I’ll ensure you get enough food so you can grow stronger first. Then, when you’re ready, you can enlist as a soldier in Ferdium’s army—”

Ghislain’s words trailed off as he looked into the boy’s eyes.

There was something hauntingly familiar in that gaze.

Though his body trembled and tears welled in his eyes, likely from lingering fear, Ghislain recognized the emotion hidden behind them.

Guilt for being unable to help.
Helplessness at his own lack of power.
Regret for failing to protect those he cherished.
Despair for what could never be undone.

And, above all…

“What do you want?” Ghislain asked.

“Revenge.”

“What kind of revenge?”

“I want every barbarian to die.”

“…”

Ghislain understood. He recognized those eyes and that sentiment.

The unrelenting intent to kill one’s enemies.
A hatred so intense it would consume everything else.
A madness that fueled self-destruction as one relentlessly whipped themselves forward, feeding on their pain.

It was the same look Ghislain had once had after witnessing his domain’s destruction in his past life.

Drip.

A single tear fell from the boy’s wide-open eyes.

Yet he didn’t blink. He kept staring straight at Ghislain, as if convinced the man before him was the only one who could fulfill his wish.

With the desperation of a drowning man clutching at straws, he silently begged for help in avenging his losses.

Drip.

Another tear fell.

Ghislain silently watched him.

Everyone reacts differently to tragedy. Some comfort themselves by believing they did all they could. Others seek different paths to heal or solve the problem.

The boy before him was eerily similar to Ghislain.

If this boy chose the wrong path, he would likely become a monstrous killer. But if he set his sights correctly…

He would become an unstoppable force of terror to his enemies.

The madness in the boy’s heart would only end with the annihilation of one side—either himself or his target of revenge. Without intervention, he would inevitably walk a bloody road.

The boy had already made his choice.

“I’ll take you with me to my estate,” Ghislain said. “I’ll personally train you.”

“Thank you!”

“You’ll wish you were dead.”

“I don’t care. If I can’t endure that, then I might as well die.”

At that, Ghislain smirked, feeling as if he were looking at his past self.

“What’s your name?”

“Arel.”

Ghislain widened his eyes in slight surprise before letting out a chuckle.

Arel. It was a name as familiar as the look in his eyes.

—

Thanks to the hard work of many, they had managed to locate and eradicate all the raiding parties of the barbarians.

The Ferdium army, enraged, pursued the tribes that had lost their warriors, but they had already fled upon hearing the news.

Returning to the fortress, Zwalter collapsed into a chair, muttering under his breath. Fatigue was written all over his face.

“Though there were losses, it’s truly fortunate we managed to stop it at this point.”

Though his words spoke of relief, his expression said otherwise.

For years, despite tough and challenging circumstances, they had managed to fend off such threats.

Thanks to their efforts, the villages of the north rarely suffered plundering. Even if attacked, the Ferdium forces had always swiftly pursued the attackers, minimizing the damage.

But this time was different. Many lives had been lost, and Zwalter’s heart couldn’t possibly be at ease.

“Still, it’s thanks to you that we were able to stop it here. Thank you.”

Seeing his father’s haggard appearance, his complexion visibly worsened from days of strain, Ghislain felt a pang of complex emotions.

He always carried out his responsibilities with utmost diligence, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. That unyielding sense of duty weighed him down and brought him pain, yet he could not abandon it.

A son’s heart could never be entirely at peace seeing a father like that.

“Soon, the estate will be able to produce more equipment. I’ll also arrange additional supplies and workers to help rebuild the villages that were destroyed.”

Currently, the fortress housed a considerable number of refugees from the ruined villages. Plans were underway to construct a new settlement in a suitable location for them to resettle.

“Yes, thank you. You’ve been an immense help to the estate.”

Zwalter didn’t react with his usual excitement or fervent gratitude. He was far too exhausted for that now.

A wolf that had grown old, its fur shedding, and teeth dulled, appeared pitiful. Zwalter, burdened by decades of responsibilities, was aging in just that way.

After composing himself for a moment, he spoke.

“You mentioned you came to secure horses? We’ve acquired quite a lot from this war, so take as many as you need.”

Since the victory had been thanks to Ghislain, it was only right for him to take the spoils. Although they had fought together, Zwalter had no intention of hoarding anything.

After all, Ferdium had received far more from Ghislain over the years.

Besides, with Ferdium’s relatively small forces, they didn’t lack horses to the point of concern.

Claude, who had been listening from the side, spoke to Ghislain.

“We’ve secured over 2,000 horses. That’s more than enough for immediate use. It ended faster than expected.”

Two thousand horses were a staggering number, even across the entire Ritania Kingdom. It was no surprise, given that six tribes had joined forces; the spoils of war were immense.

Had the barbarians not united and launched their attack, such a haul would have been unthinkable.

Of course, it had only been possible because of their victory.

Zwalter agreed with Claude’s assessment and added his own thoughts.

“The tribes that united this time were from areas relatively close to the fortress. Now that they’re gone, the region should be safe for a while. We can use this time to regroup and rest.”

In Ritania, people often referred to them collectively as barbarians, but in reality, they were divided into numerous tribes. As a result, they often fought among themselves to defend their respective territories.

With six tribes eliminated in this battle, the remaining tribes would now scramble to seize their territories, engaging in battles amongst themselves.

Until a new tribe settled near the fortress, attacks on the fortress would naturally dwindle.

This granted the northern fortress a rare window of opportunity to reorganize and strengthen its forces. However, Ghislain still had unfinished business.

“I’m not planning to return yet.”

“Why? Do you have something else to do?”

“Yes, I do. It’s nothing major.”

The major battle was over. Hearing that it was nothing significant, Zwalter nodded lightly.

“Alright, what is it? Are you planning to help with the reorganization here before you leave? Or maybe assist with the rebuilding of the villages? Whatever it is, having your forces help would be a great boon.”

Shaking his head, Ghislain replied firmly.

“Before they come back, we’ll strike first.”