The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 547: Changing Course (2)

Thud thud thud!

Following Gatros, who had flown ahead, over a hundred knights from the Atrode Kingdom galloped forward on horseback.

Even though they were all elite knights, their numbers seemed too small to conquer a fortress. Yet, not a single one hesitated as they charged.

BOOOOM!

Gatros, who had arrived first, unleashed his power without restraint.

The fortress, already half-destroyed by the attacks of the priests and mages, could not withstand Gatros's assault.

"AAAAARGH!"

"Hold the line! Kill him, now!"

"Where are the mages?!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Gatros, who had fought Ereneth on even ground, was overwhelmingly powerful. Soldiers and knights who dared to face him were killed almost instantly.

The fortress's mages, left with no choice, disabled their anti-magic barriers and unleashed their spells on Gatros.

FWOOOOSH!

Since their own forces were present, they couldn’t use area-of-effect spells and instead focused all their power on him.

"That won’t be enough to kill me!"

SHIIIING!

Gatros was enveloped in a shroud of dark energy, tanking all incoming magic head-on.

BOOM! BOOM!

Even for someone as strong as Gatros, taking such concentrated magical attacks wasn’t without consequence. Yet, he gritted his teeth and pushed through.

His mind was consumed with rage against Ghislain. His defeat in the Ruthania Kingdom had utterly changed him.

"Rrrgh..."

Gatros didn’t hold back. Leading the charge, he endured the pain and slaughtered everyone in his path.

Focusing his efforts on the mages, he pressed forward, determined to silence them. His sheer strength allowed him to endure the torrent of spells.

Watching from the fortress walls, Count Vipenvelt extended his hand.

"Now."

Taking advantage of the mages’ focus on Gatros, Atrode’s mages launched their next assault.

BOOOOOM!

Though careful to avoid hitting Gatros directly, they showed little concern about catching him in the blast radius. They trusted that someone as powerful as him could withstand it.

BOOOOOM!

Magic rained indiscriminately upon the fortress walls, killing swaths of defenders with ease.

"Hold the line!"

"Re-establish the magic barriers!"

"The enemy is advancing!"

The fortress's mages were thrown into chaos. Though still positioned safely at the rear, the relentless magical assault was breaking their lines.

Without their soldiers to protect them, the mages knew they were doomed.

Several attempted to raise new magical barriers, but it was already too late.

SPLAT!

Gatros, now covered in blood, emerged from the chaos, grinning wickedly.

"Pathetic rats. Now, face the wrath of God."

SHIIIIING!

Dark energy radiated from Gatros, piercing through the bodies of the mages.

Though mages are deadly on the battlefield, they are also the most vulnerable when unprotected.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"AAAAARGH!"

In an instant, dozens of mages fell. A few tried to mount a counterattack, but most were too overwhelmed by Gatros’s presence to fight effectively.

"A-a monster..."

"How can someone like this exist...?"

"What kind of strategy is this?"

The Grimwell mages were utterly demoralized by the unorthodox and terrifying tactics they faced.

Gatros, charging alone and radiating dark energy, was a nightmarish sight.

Even their allies were being hit by the enemy’s relentless magical bombardment.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"This... this is all wrong."

The Grimwell mages, accustomed to safer, more conventional warfare, were utterly unprepared for such brutal and chaotic tactics.

They lacked the experience needed to face someone like Gatros, who had endured unimaginable trials in Ruthania.

"R-retreat!"

The mages’ morale broke entirely.

Though their allies tried to come to their aid, none could stand against the rampaging priest.

The mages’ formation collapsed, and their attacks on Gatros dwindled.

By then, Atrode’s magical assault had ceased as well. A hundred knights had reached the fortress walls.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

The knights pulled out grappling hooks and swiftly climbed the walls.

There were few defenders left to stop them—most had been killed or scattered by the magic bombardment.

The knights, highly skilled and well-trained, secured the battlements and opened a path for reinforcements.

Behind them, Atrode’s soldiers rushed forward, carrying ladders.

"RAAAAHHH!"

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Elite troops swarmed up the ladders and quickly scaled the walls. These were the best of the best, assigned to critical missions.

"Open the gates!"

The knights, having secured the battlements, cleared the way for the soldiers to advance further.

CRRREEEEAK!

The fortress gates were opened. Though Grimwell’s forces still had a significant number of troops remaining, they were too scattered and disorganized to mount an effective defense.

Count Vipenvelt raised his hand once more.

"End it."

THUD THUD THUD THUD!

Atrode’s cavalry, waiting at the front, charged into the fortress, followed by the remaining forces.

The fortress commander shouted hoarsely as he watched them advance.

"Stop them! Where are the archers?! Hold the line!"

But no attacks came from the walls. With their formation broken and their troops in disarray, the Grimwell forces were completely out of control.

Atrode’s troops flooded into the fortress, slaughtering the remaining defenders.

"AAAAARGH!"

Screams echoed from all directions as Grimwell’s forces were massacred.

The fortress commander gritted his teeth, realizing they had been utterly outmaneuvered by the enemy's unorthodox strategy.

"Rrrgh! Retreat!"

He issued his final order and turned to flee, but he never got the chance.

SPLAT!

Gatros appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the commander by the neck and snapping it like a twig.

"Ha ha ha ha..."

Though covered in blood, Gatros laughed maniacally. Memories flooded his mind.

"Ah, Duke Fenris, so this is the thrill you must feel in every battle."

War had never been Gatros’s domain. His role was to guide the Cult’s direction from the rear, never to take the lead in battle.

That was the difference between him and Duke Fenris—a difference he now understood all too well.

"Well done."

Gatros turned to see Count Vipenvelt approaching.

"We have taken the fortress swiftly, as planned. We’ll move on to the next target immediately."

"Excellent. I’m counting on you."

Gatros smiled once more.

Though he had heard of Vipenvelt’s skill, seeing it firsthand exceeded his expectations. Their victory had come with minimal losses.

Using the strongest forces to strike at the enemy’s weak points and secure decisive victories—that was the essence of Vipenvelt’s strategy.

It reminded Gatros of someone.

"This is like watching Duke Fenris fight."

And in this battle, Gatros had assumed Fenris’s role—wielding overwhelming power at the forefront, charging headlong into the enemy.

What Gatros didn’t realize was that there was a reason for the similarities between their strategies.

In Ghislain’s previous life, the Atrode Kingdom had secretly operated as part of the human alliance. Ghislain and Vipenvelt had worked together on several occasions.

Their mutual admiration for each other’s strategies had naturally led to a shared approach to warfare.

Gatros clicked his tongue in frustration.

"If only this man had been with us in Ruthania..."

With Vipenvelt’s guidance, they might have fared better against Ghislain and Amelia. The thought stung bitterly.

But Gatros shook off his regret, biting his lip and smiling cruelly.

"Wait for me, Duke Fenris. Once we find our king, I will repay every humiliation you have inflicted upon me."

He eagerly anticipated the day when he would present Fenris’s head as an offering to his god.

***

The Atrode Kingdom army was divided into three corps to attack Grimwell Kingdom.

Count Vipenvelt led the 1st Corps, striking the most strategic points.

The person leading the 2nd Corps, advancing from another front to surround the royal castle, was none other than Aiden.

“Hmmm, looking good today as well.”

The handsome man smirked with satisfaction at his reflection in the mirror.

“WAAAAARGH!”

In the wide plains stretching before him, a fierce battle was unfolding.

Yet Aiden, stationed at the rear, was busy grooming himself in front of the mirror.

“Battlefields are always so filthy. Too much dust everywhere.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Aiden wore a displeased expression. Hadn’t he just endured the hassle of dealing with Helgenique and the leader of the Revolutionary Army not long ago?

Such things were exhausting, but there was no alternative. Only someone as skilled as him could handle those tasks.

“Being too perfect is such a burden,” he muttered.

Several maids scurried around him, polishing his armor diligently.

Aiden could not tolerate even a speck of dust on his armor. Cleanliness was paramount to him.

Meanwhile, his adjutants, visibly anxious, cautiously approached him.

“G-General...”

“Yes?”

“The fighting is intensifying.”

“And?”

“...Please issue an order.”

“Just tell them to keep fighting.”

“The casualties are increasing.”

The Grimwell forces had deployed significant troops to intercept the 2nd Corps. Though not as large as the 2nd Corps, their numbers were considerable.

The more they clashed, the heavier the casualties became. Worse, with Aiden refusing to issue commands, the losses on their side were mounting.

Still, Aiden showed no concern, his face indifferent.

“They’re disposable, aren’t they?”

“....”

“We brought them here as cannon fodder, so what’s the problem?”

Indeed, the troops he referred to were rebel forces gathered from various kingdoms, inflating their numbers.

Their purpose was to die—sacrificing themselves to deplete the enemy’s strength.

The more they fought and fell, the better. As long as Atrode’s army and his knights survived, nothing else mattered.

Still gazing into his mirror, Aiden continued.

“You know, watching Helgenique taught me something.”

“....”

“That guy just sent in corpses to fight for him and didn’t lift a finger himself. I was so envious. That day was really exhausting.”

“....”

“So think of these guys as corpses too. They’re softening up the enemy for us, aren’t they?”

“....”

The adjutants’ faces hardened, but they remained silent. While Aiden’s logic wasn’t entirely wrong, squandering troops so recklessly wasn’t exactly wise.

Sensing their unease, Aiden smirked.

“You all worry too much. With me here, what’s there to be afraid of?”

“....”

None of them dared to respond, only bowing their heads. Shaking his head dismissively, Aiden spoke again.

“Fine, if you’re so concerned, go ahead and take over command for a bit. I’ll allow it.”

“Understood.”

Even such half-hearted permission was a relief. As long as his appearance and obsession with cleanliness weren’t # Nоvеlight # disturbed, Aiden wasn’t an entirely unmanageable superior.

The adjutants quickly gathered, discussed their strategy, and issued commands. Under their leadership, the situation improved somewhat.

After all, their numbers were still superior.

“WAAAAARGH!”

“Kill them all!”

Shouts filled the air, and bodies fell in heaps on both sides. The atmosphere was heavy with desperation.

As time passed, despite their numerical advantage, Atrode’s army began to lose ground. Among the Grimwell forces was a monstrous figure who was turning the tide.

The adjutants couldn’t devise a way to deal with this formidable foe, and the situation grew increasingly dire.

Meanwhile, Aiden continued to sit elegantly, eating fruit while admiring his reflection in the mirror.

After some time, Aiden turned to the knight standing beside him.

“How many of them do you think have died so far?”

“Well... We’ve lost a significant number, but the enemy forces have also dwindled compared to their initial strength. However, their superhuman warrior remains a significant threat.”

“After all this, they must be getting tired.”

“They should be. That figure has been fighting at the front lines the entire time.”

“Then it’s about time I step in.”

Aiden preferred to let the enemy exhaust themselves before entering the fray. Naturally, he used expendable troops to achieve this.

Though he considered them useless, letting them all perish wouldn’t do his reputation any favors. It seemed about time to make his move and bolster his standing.

As Aiden stood, his maids rushed to him, polishing his armor one last time.

“Prepare yourselves.”

Climbing onto his white horse, Aiden smiled.

Overturning a disadvantageous situation with overwhelming power was his favorite kind of battle. It made him feel like a savior, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sensation.

While others bled and died, his reputation would soar.

“Let’s go.”

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

His pristine white horse trotted gracefully forward.

Behind him, Aiden’s elite knights—the "Silver Knights"—and the rest of Atrode’s army began to advance.