The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 408

“This is truly the end,” Tenant thought, bowing his head.

Behind them, the Fenris Mercenary Corps crushed the remnants of the Rodrick army, while in front, the Fenris Count’s forces blocked their path.

There was no escape now.

They had been pursued relentlessly, cornered, and finally trapped.

“How could this happen…?”

The Fenris forces seemed to know every move their opponents made and where their allies were at all times. Their coordination was seamless, leaving no gaps or weaknesses.

“Incredible.”

Even “incredible” felt inadequate to describe it. Tenant couldn’t articulate it any other way—he was a knight, not a poet.

This was complete and utter defeat. It wasn’t just Count Fenris; every commander on their side outclassed the Rodrick army’s leadership.

How could all the talent of this caliber be concentrated in the North?

“Perhaps…”

Perhaps their defeat had been sealed the moment Count Fenris circumvented the West and invaded.

“Tenant! Tenant! What do we do now?”

Marquis Rodrick’s voice trembled as he spoke, his face pale and on the verge of tears.

“My lord…”

“We must break through! With your skill, surely you can carve a path out of here. I know you can!”

Tenant remained silent.

He probably could break through—he was confident in his skill and horsemanship. Even if Count Fenris was a master swordsman, catching Tenant in full retreat wouldn’t be easy.

But that was only if he fled alone.

“Everyone dismount,” Tenant ordered.

Rodrick’s remaining knights and soldiers obeyed, descending from their horses. Their numbers had dwindled to a mere hundred.

“Why are you ordering us to dismount?” Rodrick demanded, his voice tinged with panic. “If we all charge together, we can escape!”

“My lord, please dismount.”

“No! Why should I? I’ll leave this place! Lead the way, Tenant! Lead us to safety!”

Tenant turned to the knights beside him. “Assist the Marquis.”

“Release me! Let me go!”

Rodrick struggled, but he couldn’t overcome the strength of the knights pulling him off his horse.

“You traitors! You wretched dogs! Are you planning to sell me out to save your own skins? You honorless scum!”

Rodrick screamed and thrashed, but the knights didn’t respond. They simply held him firmly, ensuring he couldn’t flee.

“Let go! I command you!”

As Rodrick threw his tantrum, Dominic emerged from the canyon, his face twisted with rage.

“Marquis Rodrick! I’ll kill you myself!”

Covered in blood, Dominic’s eyes burned with murderous intent. His resolve to personally end Rodrick was palpable.

No one could stop him—not anymore.

Tenant, however, showed no intention of trying.

“Drop your weapons,” he commanded.

The clatter of swords and shields echoed as knights and soldiers obeyed without hesitation. None of them wanted to fight anymore.

Dominic halted his charge but growled, “Do you think surrendering will save him? I might spare the others, but not Rodrick. Never him.”

At that moment, Ghislain Fenris approached leisurely on his black steed, exuding an air of calm.

“So, you surrender? How underwhelming,” he remarked, his voice tinged with disdain.

Rodrick glared at Ghislain, his face contorting with rage.

“Count Fenris… How dare you…”

Rodrick’s face flushed red with anger. It was infuriating enough to lose with such an overwhelming advantage, but now he stood powerless before his enemy.

He wanted to scream, curse, and lash out, but with his knights holding him back and his position so precarious, he couldn’t risk his life by speaking out further. He could only let out ragged breaths, seething silently.

Rodrick turned his venomous gaze toward Tenant.

“Tenant… I trusted you. Despite your lowly origins, I raised you up. And yet, this is how you repay me? Truly, a dog’s nature cannot change. You wretched, filthy traitor!”

Tenant remained silent.

Rodrick’s words weren’t entirely untrue—Tenant had been born the son of a serf. But Rodrick had recognized his immense talent and personally brought him into his service.

Thanks to Rodrick, Tenant had risen to become the commander of the Marquis’s knights, earning fame as the greatest swordsman in the West. He had even been granted the rank of minor noble.

“And yet you dare betray your benefactor?” Rodrick spat, his voice dripping with venom. “A dog I raised turns on its master? To surrender to some northern whelp?”

Finally, Tenant broke his silence, his voice heavy.

“I will not surrender.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why aren’t you leading me to safety? Why aren’t you fighting to the last?”

“I will not flee, either.”

“What?”

Tenant pressed his fist to his chest, standing at attention. His eyes burned with determination.

“There is but one thing left I can do for you, my lord.”

“And what is that?”

“To spare my liege from further disgrace at the hands of our enemies.”

“What are you talking about—”

“It is the only way to preserve your honor.”

Shlick!

Tenant’s sword plunged into Rodrick’s abdomen, faster than anyone could react.

“Guh… ugh…”

Rodrick, held by his knights, could do nothing as the blade pierced him. Blood poured freely from the wound.

Tenant’s tears mixed with the blood as he looked at the dying Marquis.

“It was an honor to serve you, my lord.”

Even Dominic faltered at the unexpected scene. He had been prepared to kill Rodrick himself, with Ghislain’s permission, but Tenant had acted first.

As Rodrick’s life ebbed away, Tenant withdrew his sword and turned to his men.

“Kneel and surrender to Fenris. There is no need for further sacrifice.”

Rodrick’s remaining soldiers dropped to their knees, but the knights hesitated.

Some followed suit, but others couldn’t bring themselves to kneel. Surrendering meant carrying the shame of betrayal for the rest of their lives. Their reputations would be tarnished forever.

For some, the shame was too much.

Shick.

One by one, those knights drew daggers and ended their own lives, falling silently to the ground.

Tenant didn’t flinch at their actions. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Ghislain Fenris and tossed his scabbard to the ground.

He raised his voice so all could hear.

“I, Tenant, commander of the Marquis Rodrick’s knights and the greatest swordsman of the West, challenge the greatest swordsman of the North, Count Fenris, to a duel!”

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield.

The timing was unexpected. Tenant’s actions had thrown everything off course. He had personally killed Rodrick, robbing Ghislain and Dominic of their vengeance.

Ghislain dismounted from his black steed, discarding his spear and drawing his sword.

“Your resolve is admirable. I’ll grant you this duel.”

Tenant bowed deeply, sincere gratitude in his voice. “Thank you.”

Ghislain had little interest in chivalry, his temperament closer to that of a mercenary than a noble. But he wasn’t so disrespectful as to dismiss an honorable challenge from a worthy opponent.

Moreover, Tenant’s reputation as a swordsman was well-earned.

“Come,” Ghislain said, raising his blade. “Show me the strength of the greatest swordsman in the West.”

Tenant smiled. Who else could dare speak to someone of his stature, a renowned swordsman who had reached the pinnacle of his region?

But his opponent was deserving of such confidence. This was a man who vied for the title of the kingdom's greatest swordsman, someone who had reached the peak of mastery.

Once Ghislain accepted the challenge, no one else had a choice. The spectators backed away, creating a wide-open space for the duel.

Boom!

Tenant lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air. His speed was so blinding that most knights couldn’t even follow his movements.

Clang!

"Impressive," Ghislain said with a sly grin, effortlessly parrying Tenant's strike. Even though the West was known for its sluggish demeanor, the title of the greatest swordsman in the West was clearly well-earned.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

In the blink of an eye, they exchanged dozens of strikes. Ghislain refrained from unleashing his full power.

Tenant’s pure swordsmanship surpassed anyone in Fenris.
Every strike was disciplined, devoid of excess, and executed with precision. His talent and relentless effort were evident in his every movement.

Fighting someone like this was exhilarating. To dispatch such a talented individual too quickly would be a waste.

Ghislain suppressed his mana, choosing to rely on his swordsmanship alone. He, too, took pride in his skill with a blade.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their speed increased with every clash.

In the darkening night, red and blue arcs of light interwove and danced in the air.

The soldiers of Fenris could only watch in awe.

“To think someone could hold their own against the Count for this long.”

“There are strong warriors in the West after all.”

“What a shame to lose such skill.”

They already knew the outcome. No one in the kingdom could best their lord in single combat. Even the most formidable warrior of the West was no exception.

Yet Tenant’s unwavering resolve, his refusal to kneel despite knowing defeat was inevitable, earned the spectators’ solemn respect.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The intensity of the duel grew with each strike. The ground cracked under the shockwaves of their blows.

"Tenant, I suppose in your past life you may have reached the level of a master."

Ghislain recalled the time he had burned the West as the Mercenary King. Back then, Tenant had reached the early stages of mastery.
But there had been no room for an exchange of skills. Ghislain’s rage-fueled sword had simply torn his enemies apart.

Tenant was undoubtedly destined to reach the heights of mastery.

“It would be a shame to kill him here…”

A warrior like Tenant would be an invaluable asset in future battles. Ghislain bore no personal grudge against him, making the decision to spare him appealing.

But Tenant would never submit. His pride and arrogance as a knight were too great.

“At least unleash your full potential before you die,” Ghislain thought.

The nature of Ghislain’s swordsmanship began to shift. No longer restrained by conventional techniques, his movements grew wild, each strike embodying a savage intent to rend and destroy.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Tenant’s eyes widened. Ghislain’s sword moved as if alive, every strike carrying a will of its own.

“Ugh!”

Tenant struggled to keep up, now focused solely on defending. His expression twisted into one of shock and desperation.

“Was he always this strong?!”

Tenant had suspected from the beginning that Ghislain wasn’t fighting at full strength. The longer their swords clashed, the more certain he became.

Fenris’s Count had suppressed his mana and chosen to duel purely through swordsmanship. The absence of the demonic aura often associated with Ghislain’s blade was proof enough.

“I thought I could at least match him in swordsmanship…”

Tenant had hoped that by demonstrating his superiority in swordsmanship, he could salvage some pride for the West.

But that hope was gone. He no longer had time to ponder who was superior—he was too busy trying to survive.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

"I’m going to die!"

Tenant desperately dodged the relentless barrage of attacks, every nerve in his body screaming for survival.

For the first time, he felt the true depths of Ghislain’s skill. Not just his mana, but his swordsmanship was on an entirely different plane.

"How is it possible for a human to wield a blade this perfectly?"

Tenant had always believed in his innate talent. From a young age, he had an instinctive understanding of swordsmanship and combat, a natural gift that set him apart from others.

Becoming the greatest in the West had felt like destiny.

But at some point, he hit a wall. He could glimpse what lay beyond but could never reach it.

Years passed as he remained stagnant.

“Now I understand what I was missing…”

As death loomed closer, the path beyond the wall became clearer.

Faced with a sword determined to kill him, every fiber of Tenant’s being lit up with raw instinct. His body reacted on its own, drawing mana into every muscle fiber, evolving to meet the desperate challenge.

Whoosh!

A new world unfolded before him. Extreme terror had unlocked an equally extreme revelation, transforming how he perceived everything around him.

Everything slowed.

Time itself seemed to move differently. His senses heightened, absorbing every detail of his surroundings.

“This… this is the world beyond the wall!”

A shiver of exhilaration ran through him as everything he had trained for coalesced into a single, focused will.

Whoosh!

Tenant’s sword erupted in brilliant light, a beacon of his newfound understanding.

At the same time, Ghislain’s body became shrouded in a dark, ominous aura.

Boom!