The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 254: We’re Taking Over This Place (1)

With a loud rumble, the massive gates of the fortress swung open. Ghislain and his knights strolled inside at a leisurely pace.

No one checked their identities. Here, the rule was simple: anyone could enter, and no one was forcibly held back.

Once inside, there were only a few rules to follow:

- Killing within the fortress was forbidden.

- Rank and status held no weight here.

- No one could be dragged out against their will.

All other disputes were left to the hunters to resolve among themselves.

The Turian Kingdom, constantly at war with monsters, needed to keep the hunters coming. Acknowledging noble privileges would disrupt the delicate balance they maintained.

If nobles were free to kill hunters or take them away as criminals, the kingdom would lose its vital force.

“Hunters must die fighting monsters, not each other,” was the kingdom’s stance. They strictly enforced this rule, even against foreign nobility.

This policy made the fortresses along the Shadow Mountains a refuge for many criminals from across the continent.

Inside the fortress, the city was much like any other, albeit rougher around the edges. The buildings were grimy and worn, with bloodstains visible in various places.

“Ugh, it’s filthy.”

“This place looks like a battlefield.”

“Stay here too long, and you’ll catch something.”

Accustomed to the clean, prosperous territory they’d left behind, the knights sneered at their surroundings.

The hunters’ attire was diverse. Most wore standard armor, but some donned gear fashioned from monster bones and hides.

As the newcomers entered, these hunters eyed them with contempt.

Each hunter’s gaze was as fierce as their battle-worn appearance suggested. They were people who’d fought monsters for years and carried a dangerous air.

“Hmph.”

Ghislain smirked at the hunters, clearly enjoying the atmosphere. He liked places like this—there was always an excuse to let loose.

And Ghislain’s knights, like the hunters, had no shortage of foul tempers.

“What are you looking at, you bastards?” Kaor glared at the hunters with an arrogant sneer, and the other knights joined in, equally confrontational.

In the past, they might have felt intimidated, but they’d grown hardened by war, becoming men fit for the moniker “butchers of men.”

“Heh, looks like we’ve got some noble guests.”

“Wonder what brings them here?”

“Their armor would sell for a pretty penny.”

Despite the hostility, the hunters merely observed, laughing smugly at the knights.

They were cautious, given the knights’ matching armor, unsure if they were officially sent by the kingdom.

For now, there was no fighting. Ghislain ignored the hunters and headed toward the central building, Kaor and the knights following proudly.

The building served to issue hunter IDs and obtain signed agreements to the fortress laws.

A Turian knight, confirming Ghislain’s identity, spoke with disinterest.

“Your noble rank means nothing here. Even a slave stands equal to a count. Do you agree?”

“I agree.”

“We don’t intervene in disputes here. Do you agree?”

“I agree.”

“Killing is forbidden, though accidents happen in duels... but it’s strictly prohibited in principle. Do you agree?”

“I agree.”

“Then please sign here. We’ll register you in the hunter list and send the agreement to the royal palace.”

Ghislain stamped his seal with satisfaction. Here, he was no longer a noble—just another hunter.

The knight took the signed document and offered a final warning.

“We’re here to keep the fortress functioning minimally. As long as you leave us and this building alone, we won’t get involved. Handle any problems with other hunters yourself. We can’t offer assistance.”

“Understood. I haven’t arranged a place to stay yet—can I leave my horse here for now?”

“As it’s your first time, we can manage that.”

“Good. I’ll go find lodgings. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other often.”

The knight smirked, almost mockingly.

“Welcome to the lawless zone. Enjoy your stay.”

As Ghislain stepped out of the building, a rat-faced man approached him.

“New here, aren’t you? Just got registered, I assume?”

“Correct.”

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The man grinned with satisfaction, and the hunters nearby watched with keen interest.

It was now clear Ghislain’s group wasn’t an official detachment from the kingdom. The rat-faced man seemed relieved as he spoke.

“It may be a lawless area, but there’s still ‘order’ to be maintained here, wouldn’t you agree?”

“And?”

“In any community, there needs to be ‘law and order.’”

“Oh, so you’re here to collect?”

Ghislain’s bluntness caught the man off guard, but he quickly recovered. This guy must have heard the rumors about how things worked around here.

“Glad to see you understand. We have an ‘Association of Hunters’ here.”

“What a joke of a name.”

“It’s an organization meant to protect hunters’ rights. It’s in your best interest to join. There’s a small membership fee, and monthly dues, of course.”

Ghislain rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“And who would I pay?”

“Why, to the association, of course.”

“Who’s the head of this association?”

“The ruler here, ‘King of Ironcliff’ Donkard.”

Ghislain nodded. The world sure had no shortage of kings. If even his horse could be named a king, why not a person?

This kind of racket was as amusing now as it had been in his past life.

“So, what do I get for joining?”

“Heh, you’ll get to live in peace here. No one will bother you, and you can focus on hunting monsters.”

Ghislain wasn’t impressed. Such benefits were of little interest to him.

“So... you’re bandits?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t tolerate bandits. I despise anyone who takes from others by force.”

“W-what are you saying... Gah!”

Without further discussion, Ghislain swung a fist. The rat-faced man tried to resist, but it was hopeless.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Ah! Stop! You’ll regret this! Donkard, the king of—”

“Let him come. I’d love to meet this king.”

“Gah! Please, have mercy!”

It only took a few blows before the man collapsed unconscious. Ghislain rifled through his pockets, taking a few silver coins, then announced arrogantly.

“This is compensation for the mental distress I almost suffered. Try living honestly next time.”

The onlookers were stunned. It was rare for someone to stroll in and beat someone up immediately, especially one of Donkard’s men.

Even the worst-tempered hunters would back down after hearing “king.” They’d assess the situation before deciding to fight or negotiate.

But this man? He threw punches the moment he felt annoyed. His temper seemed worse than even the dirtiest thugs.

‘He must be fearless, bringing so many people with him.’

‘Donkard has over three hundred underlings!’

‘This is going to be interesting. Donkard won’t let this slide.’

The hunters were all thinking the same thing. They doubted Ghislain’s group were actual knights.

No major lord would bring fifty knights to a place like this.

‘They probably dressed up just to look the part. But they seem wealthy enough.’

Had Ghislain’s group been smaller, the surrounding hunters would have likely picked a fight. Establishing a pecking order with newcomers was standard here.

But challenging fifty men was too risky, so they held back for now.

Kaor, noticing the murmurs around them, lowered his voice and asked Ghislain.

“Are you sure this is wise? If they gang up on us, we’ll be outnumbered. This Donkard guy seems to be the boss here.”

“Scared?”

“No, I’m not!”

Kaor’s pride flared. He was used to dealing with this sort of hostility—mercenaries faced it often enough.

It wasn’t fear holding him back. He was just being cautious in an unfamiliar place. A so-called “king” would naturally have many subordinates.

Still, Kaor was confident he could handle them if it came down to it.

Seeing Kaor grumble, Ghislain chuckled and replied.

“Once they know who’s in charge, they’ll flock to our side. Show them what you’re made of. It’s all about brute force here. But first, let’s find a place to stay.”

The fortress had everything a city would. Merchants came to sell hunters all manner of goods, and retired hunters opened shops to make a living.

The constant threat of monsters meant prices were high, and supplies scarce.

Ghislain strode ahead, making his way to the largest inn without asking directions.

Curious, the knights asked, “How do you know your way around here, my lord?”

“You seem familiar with registering as a hunter too.”

“Have you been here before?”

Ghislain nodded. “I know this place well. Ironcliff, in particular—I used to come here often.”

In his past life, Ghislain’s mercenary band frequently came to this fortress. It had the most monsters of any fortress.

Whenever he needed cash, he’d bring his men here and clear out part of the mountains. He’d also spent a lot of time here alone, training.

This place held special memories for him.

‘And there’s someone here...’

In the future, one of the Continent’s Seven Strongest would come from the Turian Kingdom. He hadn’t gained fame yet, but his name would be known to all in times of chaos.

‘Maybe

I’ll challenge him if the chance arises.’

Ghislain’s face lit up with anticipation.

Defeating Duke Delphine and preparing for the coming chaos were his main goals.

But challenging powerful foes was also a priority. This time, he wanted the title of the continent’s strongest.

The knights, seeing his pleased expression, thought to themselves.

“Our lord opens his mouth, and out come the lies.”

“What’s left for him to see at his age? He can’t possibly know everything.”

“His aides must have briefed him.”

Though they acknowledged his abilities and impressive knowledge, his constant wild claims were getting on their nerves.

They were tempted to call him out, but feared “special training” would be the price, so they kept their mouths shut.

The inn they approached was large enough for over a hundred people. Though it was a shoddy, makeshift structure, its size was what mattered.

Ghislain took one look and nodded.

“This place is big enough. Let’s make it our base.”

Kaor nodded in agreement.

“Shall we rent out the entire place?”

“Let’s go inside first.”

As they entered, they were greeted by a rough-looking man polishing a cup with a bored yawn. Around him, hunters sat lazily playing cards or drinking.

The inn’s interior was filthy—dark, worn, with rats and insects crawling along the floor.

The hunters seemed perfectly comfortable with the squalor.

The innkeeper scowled at Ghislain’s group as they filed in.

“First time here, eh? We’re closed for business. Get out.”

It was clear the place wasn’t a real inn. They’d set it up as their hideout.

Ghislain tilted his head and approached the innkeeper.

“You’re not open for business with so many guests?”

“We’ll open when we feel like it,” the innkeeper growled, glaring at Ghislain. If this fool knew whose territory he was in, he wouldn’t dare set foot here.

Newcomers were always trouble.

Just as he motioned to shoo them out, Ghislain spoke first.

“Don’t worry. We’re not here for something trivial. We came here because it’s the biggest place around.”

“Then why are you here?”

Ghislain tilted his head back, meeting the innkeeper’s glare with a defiant smirk.

“From today on, we’re taking over.”