The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

Count Phalantz’s duel challenge was met with a nod from Ghislain.
"A duel, you say... I'll accept."
Phalantz bit his lip at Ghislain’s nonchalant response. Even though the tone was aggravating, the mere possibility of victory offered a glimmer of hope.

That arrogant whelp might have garnered fame recently, but Phalantz didn’t believe for a second that he was strong enough to defeat him.
After all, Phalantz had been one of the kingdom's strongest Masters long before this upstart had even made a name for himself.
Beside Ghislain, Belinda whispered softly.

"Why not just crush him outright? Why bother with a duel?"
"I’m aiming for a record."
"A record? What record?"

"Seizing the capital without spilling a single drop of my soldiers' blood. Sounds impressive, doesn’t it?"
As a man, Ghislain couldn’t resist the allure of achieving such a feat. It wasn’t necessary, but it was within his grasp, so why not?
The Royal Knights were known for their skill and discipline. While it would be easy to overwhelm them with sheer numbers, ensuring no casualties among his own forces would be a challenge.

At Ghislain’s gesture, the soldiers stepped back to create space. Even the palace guards and Royal Knights followed suit.
Belinda shook her head, smiling wryly at Ghislain’s whims.
"No one can stop you, can they? Well, at least this keeps the others safe."

Her words carried confidence in Ghislain’s victory.
Hearing this, Phalantz exhaled sharply. The casual demeanor of both Ghislain and Belinda filled him with rage.
"Arrogant fools... Do you think so little of me?"

"It’s not that I think little of you," Ghislain replied with a smirk. "I just don’t see myself losing."
"Yes, your arrogance is well-known. Today, I’ll teach you some humility."
Swoosh!
Phalantz’s blade roared to life, exuding a fierce aura blade that radiated raw power.

In response, Ghislain readied his stance and taunted,
"Let’s see what the kingdom’s ‘second strongest’ can do."
"You wretch!"

Those words struck a nerve. Phalantz despised being called the second strongest, always compared to Marquis Balzac. He never accepted that ranking, firmly believing he could best Balzac in a fight to the death.
This duel was his chance to prove his strength.
Boom!

Phalantz brought his sword down like a bolt of lightning, aiming directly for Ghislain’s head. He intended to overwhelm him without giving him room to breathe.
Clang!
Ghislain blocked the strike, his blade surrounded by a dark, menacing energy.

Phalantz’s attacks were relentless, targeting Ghislain’s vital points with precision and power. His strikes were fast and straightforward, embodying the disciplined style of a seasoned knight.
Clang! Clang!
Despite the ferocity of his assault, Ghislain parried each blow effortlessly. To Phalantz’s growing frustration, Ghislain showed no signs of strain.

Instead, Ghislain’s occasional counterattacks were chillingly precise and brutal.
"This doesn’t make sense..."
Phalantz’s breathing grew heavier, his movements losing their sharpness. Meanwhile, Ghislain’s attacks grew even more overwhelming, forcing Phalantz into a defensive stance.

Clang! Clang! Crash!
Phalantz, unable to maintain his form, exposed his chest.
Slash!

"Gah!"
A deep gash tore through Phalantz’s armor, blood pouring from his chest. Staggering back, he gasped for air, his face a mask of disbelief.
"How... How is this possible...?"

No matter the skill, no matter the strength, he was outclassed in every way. The realization that Ghislain had surpassed him was unbearable.
Ghislain’s crimson eyes glowed ominously through the dark energy surrounding him.
"You’ve never fought a real battle, have you?"

"W-What are you talking about?"
"The rumors were true. You reached the rank of Master sheltered by the best resources and support. You’ve done little to hone your skills since."
"You insolent...!"

Phalantz ground his teeth, humiliated.
It was true. He had been a prodigy, achieving great heights with the royal family's backing. He’d even been gifted a Dragon Heart to ascend to the rank of Master.
But complacency had dulled his edge. Secure in the belief that no one in the kingdom could challenge him, he’d neglected his training.

"I never thought the chaos of this era would produce monsters like you..."
Ghislain shook his head as he assessed Phalantz.
"You’re barely above Tenant's level."

While Phalantz was undoubtedly strong, his lack of real-world experience was glaring. Compared to the fearsome adversaries Ghislain had faced, he was far from the top tier.
"There’s nothing more to see. You’re not even close to Marquis Balzac. Come to think of it, even back when I stole those items, you were slower to react than Balzac."
"You bastard! How dare you!"

In a fit of rage, Phalantz charged again, igniting a massive aura blade by burning through his life force. Even if it killed him, he would not suffer this disgrace.
Ghislain responded by intensifying the dark energy surrounding him, meeting Phalantz head-on.
Boom!

The clash of their blades unleashed shockwaves, shaking the ground beneath them. Each strike sent tremors through the battlefield, forcing onlookers to retreat.
Boom! Boom! Sizzle!
Ghislain’s dark energy surged wildly, and a grin spread across his face.

"I’ll admit, a Master is still a Master."
Phalantz had pushed himself to his absolute limit, drawing every ounce of strength from his life force. His strikes carried immense power, enough to make Ghislain enjoy the fight.
"Now this is getting interesting."

"Shut up, you insolent wretch!"
"For someone who’s no knight, your pride is remarkable."
"You bastard!"

Phalantz’s face twisted in fury as he swung his blade wildly, desperate to land a decisive blow.
Despite his burning rage, it was clear to all that Ghislain held the upper hand. While Phalantz burned through his strength at an alarming rate, Ghislain’s power only seemed to grow.
Eventually, Phalantz faltered. His movements slowed, his body riddled with wounds.

Falling to his knees, he glared at Ghislain with unbridled hatred.
"You... damned traitor..."
Ghislain leveled his sword at Phalantz’s neck.

"You’ve spent your life chasing power without purpose. Now that it’s over, I’m sure you have no regrets."
"How dare you... speak to the Royal Knights’ Captain like this... you... traitor..."
Ghislain met Phalantz’s glare, now framed by his white hair, and smirked.

"That Dragon Heart was wasted on you, fool."
Slash!
With a single, decisive swing, Count Phalantz's head flew through the air, his expression still twisted in anger.

The royal knights, witnessing their commander’s fate, bowed their heads in silence. The palace guards, following their officer’s orders, laid down their weapons and prostrated themselves on the ground.
"Arrest them all," Ghislain commanded. "Investigate their actions, and punish or reorganize them based on their crimes."
Fenris soldiers stepped forward confidently, binding the defeated defenders without resistance.

The crowd erupted into cheers.
"Hurray! Count Fenris has done it again!"
"Even the Royal Knight Captain couldn’t stand against him!"

"Count Fenris is invincible!"
The onlookers celebrated as though they themselves had achieved the victory.
Porisco approached Ghislain, a faint glow of divine energy emanating from his hands.

"Allow me to heal you, Count."
"I don’t need it. I’m not hurt," Ghislain replied plainly.
Porisco leaned closer, whispering with a sly grin, "Just accept it quietly. It looks good. Besides, you’re ridiculously good at fighting. I knew you’d win."

The image of a victorious warrior being healed by a priest created an iconic scene. The people, inspired by the sight, cheered even louder.
With Count Phalantz defeated, no one remained to block their path. Ghislain and the Fenris knights strode boldly into the palace.
Most of those inside had already fled. Those who hadn’t lay face down on the floor, trembling.

Ignoring them, Ghislain made his way directly to the royal quarters.
Crash!
He shattered the doors and stepped inside. King Berhem cowered behind his attendants, who shielded him as best they could. Standing next to him, Marquis Domont wore a grim expression.

Ghislain swept his gaze over them before speaking.
"Marquis Domont, I hear you were the one who brought the Salvation Order into the kingdom."
"It was to treat His Majesty," Domont replied. "It was his command as well."

"Spare me your excuses. Did you think your ambitions to seize power would go unnoticed?"
Domont fell silent.
"You enjoyed your moment in the sun," Ghislain continued, "but your time is over."

Domont’s actions had been hidden under the shadow of the king’s tyranny, but he had wielded immense power. Not only had he been granted territory, but he had also embezzled state funds into his family’s coffers. He had even orchestrated the theft of military supplies.
His dream of becoming a powerful noble had been short-lived, however. With no military support left to uphold his influence, his power crumbled to dust.
Domont’s voice quivered as he spoke.

"I surrender. Judge me through fair trials and due process."
"Fair trials? Due process?"
Ghislain’s expression turned incredulous. "Do you honestly think you left this nation with any semblance of fairness or justice? Most of the judiciary fled along with the rest of the capital’s officials."

He approached Domont, who recoiled slightly.
"Now that you’re about to die, you’ve suddenly remembered fairness? Tell me, Domont—was this nation brought to ruin through fair and just means?"
"You’re a traitor yourself!" Domont shot back.

"Exactly. So why would you expect mercy from a traitor?"
"But it’s over now, isn’t it? As a noble of the kingdom, you should honor the laws—"
"If that’s what you want," Ghislain interrupted, grabbing Domont by the throat, "I’ll give you your trial."

Domont struggled in his grip, choking.
"As the commander of the Northern Army," Ghislain declared coldly, "I sentence you to immediate execution under military law."
Domont’s embezzlement of military supplies alone warranted his punishment. As a commander, Ghislain had full authority to carry out justice during wartime.

"Wait! Wait! You’re the commander of the Northern Army, not—"
Thud!
Domont’s protest was cut short as Ghislain’s sword pierced his stomach.

"Guh...!"
Blood poured from his mouth as he collapsed, lifeless, to the floor.
King Berhem screamed in terror, calling for his attendants.

"Chamberlain! Chamberlain!"
Crawling over to Domont’s body, Berhem shook the lifeless form, but it was no use. Domont was gone.
Trembling, Berhem turned to Ghislain, who stood holding a blood-soaked sword.

Gone was the anger Berhem once displayed. Now, he could only beg.
"S-Spare me! You mustn’t kill me. I’ll forgive your treason!"
Ghislain remained silent, his cold gaze fixed on the pitiful king.

"I’ll grant you the title of Duke and the royal territories—"
No response.
"All the royal treasury, all the gold and jewels, they’re yours! Name your price!"

Still, Ghislain said nothing, merely turning his gaze to Porisco.
The bishop stepped forward with a stern expression, his voice echoing through the room.
"To the tyrant who has fallen into heresy, hear this!"

"W-What?" Berhem stammered, confusion and outrage mingling in his voice.
Porisco’s voice grew louder.
"As the ‘Archbishop’ of the Juana Church in Ruthania, I speak on behalf of all clergy who remain in the capital. By unanimous decision, you are stripped of your right to rule and excommunicated. You are no longer king!"

Berhem’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
"W-What are you saying? You’re the only one left! All the other priests have fled or died!"
"That may be true," Porisco said with a knowing smirk, "but I am the only one here. That makes it unanimous, doesn’t it?"

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. With no other clergy present, Porisco’s word carried weight.
For Porisco, this was the culmination of his ambitions—a second chance to claim the title of archbishop and saint, one he had once failed to achieve.
"This is absurd!" Berhem shouted, his fury bubbling over. "You can’t just strip me of my title! I am the king!"

"The heavens have revoked the title granted to you," Porisco countered. "Repent before the Goddess, tyrant. This is the will of all churches, and the rightful king shall be Marquis Ferdium!"
"Shut up! I will never acknowledge this!"
The authority to excommunicate a king was a rarely invoked right of the continent’s major religions. But in this chaotic moment, it provided the perfect justification for Zvalter Ferdium’s claim to the throne.

Porisco sneered down at the enraged Berhem.
"And what will you do now? The balance of power has already shifted."
Berhem, realizing his position, crawled toward Ghislain and clung to his leg.

"Please, spare me! I don’t want to die! I’ll become a slave if I have to—anything to live!"
Ghislain’s expression twisted in disgust.
How could someone like this have been worth the sacrifices of noble families like Marquis Branford’s?

While Ghislain could understand the fear of death, Berhem’s crimes were too great to overlook. For the sake of the new era, Berhem had to die.
But first, there were questions to be answered.
Pulling out a pendant, Ghislain asked,

"Tell me about the Shadow Knights. And this artifact—what is it?"
Even if he intended to kill him, there were still mysteries to unravel.