The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 286: Not Alone (4)

Harold looked utterly disheveled. His nerves had been on edge recently, mostly because of Gillian.

Yet, despite his haggard appearance, his eyes burned more fiercely than ever.

"Ghislain... Ghislain... That damned brat has finally appeared before me."

Harold’s feelings were no different from Ghislain’s. Both had been eagerly awaiting this moment.

To sever each other's necks.

Clop. Clop.

A knight of Fenris bearing a white flag approached Desmond’s camp.

The knight flung something toward their camp before retreating swiftly.

When the soldiers of Desmond’s army saw what had been thrown, they paled and hurriedly brought it to Harold.

Harold scowled as he looked at what the soldier had brought.

“Baron Hutton...”

What the knight had thrown was the severed head of Baron Hutton, cut down by Ghislain. Even in death, his expression was frozen in bewilderment, as if he couldn’t comprehend his fate.

Harold had already been informed of Baron Hutton's death through the surviving knights and soldiers of the pursuit squad.

He had braced himself for this, but confronting the reality of Hutton’s demise ignited a fresh wave of fury.

“Ghislain! You bastard!”

Once again, the man who constantly thwarted him had appeared out of nowhere to slay one of their strongest warriors.

Though Harold had many skilled knights under his command, Baron Hutton had been special. His death would significantly weaken the Royalist faction’s strength.

He had made a mistake. Sending Hutton, already injured, with the pursuit squad had been foolish. He should have kept him back, safe and properly guarded.

Clutching his head in frustration, Harold’s bloodshot eyes gleamed as he issued a command.

“Ensure that wretch has no chance of escape. Form up properly.”

He needed to remain calm. The man he had longed to kill was now in front of him.

This was better than a siege. All he had to do was win this battle.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Desmond’s massive army tightened its encirclement around the Fenris forces, gradually closing the distance. Gillian spoke urgently.

“My lord! You must retreat! Please, flee at once!”

“I doubt that’s possible now. If we try to run, we’ll only suffer more losses.”

“I’ll hold them off again! Please, return and prepare for the defense! Hey, you lot, a hundred men with me!”

Gillian turned to rally the knights, but their expressions were unenthusiastic.

“What are you waiting for? Escort the lord—”

“Enough, Gillian. Are you telling me to run while others sacrifice themselves? Do you think we’ll lose, even with me here?”

“My lord!”

Gillian raised his voice in exasperation. He knew the strength of the Fenris forces: three hundred knights led by Ghislain, all clad in Galvanium armor, capable of immense destruction.

But their weakness was equally clear. The more they used the power of their armor, the faster their mana would deplete.

“I know how strong we are. I’ve fought against such an army before. But once we kill about half of them, we’ll be too exhausted to continue. Surely you understand the greatest strength of a large army!”

“I can fight longer. Until every one of them is dead.”

“And what good is it if only you can fight? Even if we win, the losses will be devastating!”

“Hmm, you make a valid point.”

“That’s why you must retreat and prepare for the defense! I’ll hold them off again!”

Gillian finally understood why Belinda was always scolding Ghislain. He knew his lord was fearless, but this was reckless to the extreme.

Yet Ghislain replied nonchalantly.

“What’s the point?”

“Pardon?”

“What’s the point of me surviving by sacrificing you and others?”

“My lord, you must survive! You’re not fighting for yourself!”

“Don’t say things people could misunderstand. I’m still single, you know.”

“My lord! That’s not what I meant! You must live to lead and protect more people—”

Ghislain cut him off.

“I don’t want to lose you, Gillian. Or anyone else.”

Hearing this, Gillian’s eyes welled up with tears as he clenched his teeth.

It was the highest praise one could hear from a lord they had pledged their loyalty to.

But this wasn’t right. They had chosen to sacrifice themselves to save more lives.

A true leader must be cold-hearted when needed, knowing when to take and when to let go. That was the virtue of a ruler.

But Ghislain seemed utterly indifferent to such principles as he continued.

“I do my best to ensure I don’t lose anyone.”

“My lord...”

“There’s nothing to gain by losing someone, and nothing I want to gain that requires such a loss.”

Losing loved ones was Ghislain’s greatest trauma. He had suffered enough in his previous life to never want to endure it again. That was why he had resolved to fight the Ducal House.

“The responsibility I bear isn’t like that.”

It wasn’t about sacrificing some to save many.

It was about burning his own life force to protect and save as many as possible.

“That’s why I have no intention of being annihilated. As always, I’ll secure victory with minimal losses.”

With that, Ghislain mounted Black King and raised his hand, signaling the end of the discussion.

“All units, prepare for battle.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Fenris’s knights and cavalry lowered their visors. Despite the overwhelming numbers of Desmond’s army, they showed no fear.

To fight alongside their lord now was almost a guarantee of victory.

Gillian, gritting his teeth, declared, “Then I’ll fight too. Bring me my weapon! An axe, a spear, anything will do!”

At that, Gordon jabbed Gillian’s chest.

“Tch!”

“With your current state, what do you think you’re going to do? You’d lose even against the chatterbox commander over there.”

“Pfft! Hahaha!”

The other knights burst into laughter. Seeing the fearsome Gillian weakened was too amusing for them.

“You brats! Cough!”

Gillian shouted angrily but ended up coughing up a mouthful of blood. He had overexerted himself for too long, and his body was at its limit.

Gordon fussed, “Oh no, our dear Instructor is going to die! Someone take care of him!”

Gillian was ultimately restrained by the medics. He had no strength left to resist.

All he could do was stare helplessly at Ghislain, who sat astride Black King.

Ghislain smiled faintly at him before issuing his next command.

“Form up and hold position.”

Though their rear was open, retreating would only invite pursuit by Desmond’s full force. That would doom them to failure.

Ghislain had no intention of fleeing. He planned to end this here and now.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Desmond’s army halted at a suitable distance.

In such cases, there was usually only one intent: to launch a ranged attack.

As expected, powerful magic began to gather at the forefront of Desmond’s formation.

Crackle!

The very air wavered with distortion as light flickered and strands of lightning formed.

A 6th-circle mage from Desmond’s forces, Willow, began casting his spell.

Spotting Ghislain at the forefront, he aimed directly at him, intending to strike swiftly and powerfully with a single-target spell.

“Foolish wretch. He doesn’t even realize what’s coming.”

Willow grinned confidently as his spell reached its final stage.

“Lightning Rod.”

As he chanted the incantation, a blinding burst of light erupted. Countless bolts of lightning raced toward Ghislain.

But then, a calm voice echoed from Fenris’s rear.

“Reflect Shield.”

At that moment, a massive magic circle materialized in front of Ghislain.

Boom!

The lightning was reflected back toward Desmond’s forces.

Willow was utterly stunned as his own lightning magic hurtled back toward the Desmond forces.

“What... what is this?!” he shouted, his confidence shattered.

Reflect Shield was a high-tier 6th-circle spell, infamous for its immense mana consumption. To successfully deflect an attack, the caster’s mana reserves had to far exceed the spell they were countering.

For it to appear here, in the Fenris forces?

Willow’s trembling hands hurriedly gestured, attempting to dispel his own magic. He felt chunks of his mana being rapidly drained as he scrambled to stop the deflected attack.

“An archmage...” Willow muttered, sweat dripping down his face. “They have someone of higher rank than me.”

A cold sweat broke out on his back. The ease with which his magic had been deflected was proof enough. Whoever was responsible had to be a master at the 6th-circle or above.

"How... How could Fenris have such a mage?" he thought frantically. To his knowledge, the northern territories lacked anyone capable of this level of magic.

Sure, there were rumors about Alfoy, the heir to the Red Flame Tower, who resided in Fenris—but Alfoy was only at the 4th circle.

“This is someone new. Someone powerful...” Willow realized, panic rising in his chest.

He rushed to report the situation to Harold. As the mage explained what had happened, Harold’s expression darkened further.

“If this is true, then we can’t risk recklessly using magic to attack them,” Harold muttered. “Our mages need to conserve their strength and stand by for now. Close the encirclement tighter. We’ll make them suffocate under the pressure.”

The Desmond forces adjusted their strategy, moving more cautiously and methodically, creeping closer with their sheer numbers. Archers advanced, tightening the formation, while mages remained behind, conserving mana for an opportune moment.

The tension on the battlefield was palpable. Both armies stared each other down, their focus unwavering.

Meanwhile, in the Fenris ranks:

Gillian, despite being held back by medics, could only watch in awe. Even in this dire situation, Ghislain’s demeanor remained composed. As Gillian glanced around, he saw the same determination reflected in the faces of their troops.

And then, Ghislain broke the silence.

“Oh, I forgot to mention something to Gillian earlier,” he said casually.

Before anyone could respond, a faint sound began to echo across the battlefield.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The earth trembled beneath the rhythm of galloping horses. The sound grew louder, reverberating across the field.

Desmond’s soldiers began to glance around, uneasy.

Thud. Thud. THUD.

The noise was deafening now. Suddenly, the army’s right flank spotted a massive force approaching.

Blaring horns pierced the air.

“Bwwooooon!”

Harold’s eyes widened as he recognized the banners flying in the distance.

“Kingdom forces?!” he muttered, disbelief in his voice.

The leading banners bore the insignia of the royal family, signaling the arrival of the Clifton Viscount's 3rd Legion. Trailing behind them were the crests of noble houses, including the forces of Viscount Etherean, who had gathered a coalition of disgruntled nobles.

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Before Harold could issue new commands, another roar erupted from the opposite flank.

“Waaaaaah!”

Harold turned sharply, his face pale. Another army was charging toward his left flank.

“Is that... Ferdium?!”

The banners of the white wolf fluttered boldly in the wind. The Ferdium forces had coordinated their arrival perfectly with the royal army.

Ghislain, watching from his position atop Black King, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

“I didn’t come alone,” he said quietly, his voice carrying over to his troops.

In the rear, Gillian’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of their reinforcements. He felt his chest swell with emotion, his vision blurring with tears.

How could he have forgotten? Ghislain was no longer fighting alone. He now had allies—people who stood with him in this battle.

As Harold’s forces scrambled to adjust to the pincer maneuver, the newly arrived armies positioned themselves to encircle Desmond’s forces.

Ghislain raised his spear slightly, then let it fall.

“Let’s go.”

Clop. Clop.

Black King raised his head proudly, his hooves striking the ground with purpose. Before them, the ranks of Desmond’s army loomed large and menacing.

Ghislain’s smile widened, and he spoke with quiet determination.

“After today...”

No—perhaps before this day even ends.

“We will be known as the strongest in the north.”

With that, Black King let out a piercing whinny and surged forward.