The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 469: That’s the Limit of Your Kind (1)

Ghislain's orders were clear, and Claude nodded in acknowledgment.

“Understood. How shall we divide the forces?”

If the Northern Army moved as a single unit, they could stop any enemy advance. After all, Ghislain and Ereneth were with them.

However, such a strategy would leave the remaining fronts exposed to defeat. Dividing their forces was inevitable.

Ghislain pointed at the map.

“I’ll take a mobile unit of twenty thousand and head toward the direction where the commander was holding the line. Claude, you’ll lead the rest. Divide your forces further if necessary.”

Ereneth and the core advisors were entrusted to Claude. Even in Ghislain’s absence, they had enough strength to face the Delphine Army effectively.

The Delphine Army, having broken through the first defensive line, might further split their forces to increase mobility. Claude’s task was to counter those movements.

“Claude, secure the road to the capital ahead of the enemy. Can you manage that? Don’t rely on the allied forces to arrive in time. The Duke’s army is moving faster than they are.”

“I understand. I’ll divide the forces into a vanguard and main body for faster movement.”

“Good. Everyone, follow Claude’s orders. The goal of this operation is to establish a defensive line near the capital using only the Northern Army. The allied forces will eventually regroup with us.”

Claude glanced at another point on the map and asked, “What about the Duke’s forces advancing through the East? The Northern Army can’t block them all.”

It was possible to cover the East, but doing so would spread their troops thin and diminish the number of capable commanders.

If that happened, even the Northern Army would be in danger.

Ghislain turned to Claude and asked, “What’s the situation there now?”

“The Eastern Army commander is dead, and the Kingdom’s forces have been crushed. However, the lords and allied forces have managed to reestablish a defensive line for now.”

“Then leave it alone. Someone else will deal with it.”

“Someone else? Wait, you don’t mean...?”

“Yes, Amelia won’t miss a chance like this. She’s probably itching to take control of the East.”

“Count Rayfold may have proven her competence in the last war, but... the disparity in forces is too great. The Delphine Army isn’t like the barbarians.”

Their soldiers were not only of higher quality but also commanded by skilled officers. Furthermore, at least one superhuman from the Salvation Order was likely embedded in their ranks.

Even if Amelia combined her forces with those remaining in the East, it would be a steep uphill battle.

Despite Claude’s concerns, Ghislain chuckled.

“Stop them? That woman isn’t interested in stopping anything. She probably won’t even join forces with the lords’ armies.”

“What? Then what will she do?”

“She’ll harass the Delphine Army from behind while the others hold them off.”

“Harass them...?”

“Exactly. The strategy she used against the barbarians wasn’t her specialty. That was something she had to do out of necessity. What she truly despises is direct, head-on battles. She finds them beneath her.”

“Despises them, you say?”

“Yes. She’s self-centered and hates taking losses. Instead, she loves striking from behind, causing chaos without putting herself at risk.”

Claude frowned, unsure if Ghislain was criticizing Amelia or describing himself. Ghislain narrowed his eyes and asked,

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Anyway, if Amelia targets their rear, the remaining forces in the East will be able to hold out for a while.”

It was similar to how things had played out in his previous life. Back then, a mercenary king’s army had taken on the Duke’s faction, while Amelia relentlessly harassed them from behind.

Even Ghislain had been vexed at his inability to capture Amelia. Now, however, her target was the Salvation Order and the Duke’s forces.

And during the chaos, she would plant her flags wherever she could. It wasn’t for nothing that she was called the “Witch of the Banners.”

“So, let’s leave that side alone for now and focus on neutralizing the two legions advancing on the capital.”

In truth, Ghislain didn’t care whether the capital was captured or not. His ultimate goal was to eradicate the Duke’s faction and the Salvation Order, regardless of the Kingdom’s fate.

However, he wanted to meet the King once and had no intention of letting the enemy achieve their objectives easily.

If they were going to die anyway, it was better to take as many of them down as possible using the Royalist faction’s forces.

“We’re moving out immediately. Get everyone ready to march.”

At Ghislain’s command, the Northern Army split into two groups.

Ghislain led the mobile unit westward, while the remaining Northern Army moved to the eastern front.

***

Marquis Maurice McQuarry, commander-in-chief of the Kingdom’s army, was often dismissed by nobles as a frivolous man. His reliance on superstitions and his occasionally childish demeanor didn’t help his reputation.

However, due to his violent temper, impulsiveness, and the authority of his position, no one dared openly disrespect him in his presence.

Despite his eccentricities, Maurice was not without merit as a commander.

“Listen up! The omens say we’ll be victorious again today! And this time, a benefactor will appear to help us. So, fight with everything you’ve got!”

“Waaah!”

Surprisingly, his reliance on superstitions was highly effective in boosting the morale of his soldiers.

His direct involvement in the southern front, commanding the army in person, further raised their spirits.

Unlike many other nobles, Maurice took his responsibilities seriously. In crises, he even took the lead on the battlefield.

Thanks to his efforts, the Kingdom’s army under his command fought exceptionally well. With reinforcements from some allied troops, their numbers were nothing to scoff at.

“Hold the line! If we endure today, we’ll win tomorrow!”

Maurice, unlike a typical commander-in-chief, roared orders directly from atop the fortress walls, rallying his troops.

Inspired by his fervor, the Kingdom’s army and allied forces repelled the Delphine Army’s assaults three times.

Even with a superhuman priest from the Salvation Order among the enemy ranks, they held firm.

Ghislain had only received reports of their defeat, but the reality was that these forces fought valiantly.

Count Fogren, commander of the 3rd Legion of the Delphine Army, twirled his long beard in contemplation.

“Hmph. Who would’ve thought that Marquis McQuarry, a man known for his superstitions, could lead such a strong defense? Even without siege engines, they’re holding out remarkably well.”

Like the 2nd Legion, the 3rd Legion had forgone siege engines to advance more quickly.

They had assumed that a combination of their mages and the superhuman priest would suffice.

But the reality was different. The Kingdom’s forces defended against magical attacks far better than expected.

A mage accompanying the legion reported, “The forces of the Scarlet Tower, led by Tower Master Hubert, are present. They’ve been countering our 6th-Circle magic.”

“I see.”

Although they hadn’t completely neutralized the magic, the fortress walls showed significant damage. Yet, the defenders held on, indicating the presence of several 6th-Circle and 5th-Circle mages among the Kingdom’s ranks.

Turning to the Salvation Order’s high priest, Bicontis, Count Fogren said, “Their resistance is stronger than anticipated. While we could take the fortress eventually, it would take far too long.”

“My apologies,” Bicontis replied with a sour expression.

He had led several assaults on the fortress but was repeatedly blocked by defensive formations led by the Kingdom’s knights. Overwhelming the defenders proved difficult.

Count Fogren waved his hand dismissively and continued, “It’s only problematic because we need to advance quickly. For now, we have no choice but to ask you to push harder.”

“...Very well.”

Bicontis, resigned to the situation, advanced once more. He led five successive charges, shattering the gates but retreating each time.

The Delphine Army, knowing that only weak lordly militias lay beyond the fortress, pressed the attack relentlessly, sacrificing a significant portion of their forces.

Finally, the fortress fell.

“Victory!”

The Delphine Army suffered the loss of half their troops but captured the gates.

Marquis Maurice, Hubert, and the remaining commanders and soldiers were forced to retreat.

“Pursue them at once! Capture Marquis McQuarry and his remnants!” Count Fogren ordered.

A rumor of the Kingdom’s commander-in-chief’s death would shatter the morale of the Royalist faction. The Delphine Army couldn’t miss such an opportunity.

At the forefront of the pursuit was Bicontis, seething with rage.

“I’ll rip him to shreds.”

Frustrated by the grueling battle, he needed someone to take the blame, and that someone was Maurice.

Maurice raced away from the pursuing forces, his face grim. Beside him rode Hubert, the Tower Master of the Scarlet Tower.

Their contingent barely numbered 500, including remnants from the allied forces.

“To think it would come to this...” Maurice bit his lip.

The Delphine Army had suffered significant losses, but their remaining strength was still formidable. Even if the scattered lords’ militias regrouped, they wouldn’t be able to stop them.

The breach at this location was disastrous, but the other fronts were no better. Beyond the East, the Delphine Army still had two other active routes.

Maurice doubted the Northern Army or the other forces could hold them back, having experienced their might firsthand.

“Ride harder! We must escape their pursuit at all costs!”

“Sir! The horses can’t go any further!”

After a day of relentless riding, the horses were foaming at the mouth, and many had collapsed.

“We have no time to stop...” Maurice groaned.

The Delphine Army had a superhuman in their ranks, and they could catch up at any moment.

But with exhausted men and horses, they had no choice but to rest.

“Just a brief stop, only for a moment.”

The group dismounted, slumping to the ground without even fetching water.

Looking disheveled, Hubert tried to reassure Maurice.

“We’ll be fine. That Salvation Order priest was heavily injured, wasn’t he?”

Despite his superhuman status, Bicontis had sustained numerous wounds due to the relentless attacks by knights and soldiers.

Maurice nodded weakly. His appearance was as ragged as his spirit.

“I hope so. But I left the old woman behind...”

“You mean the fortuneteller?”

“Yes. I wonder if she’s safe. She’s clever—she must’ve found a way to escape.”

“Hmm...”

Hubert, a mage, couldn’t hide his disdain for fortunetellers. The idea of bringing one to a battlefield was absurd to him. Still, Maurice’s belief in her had oddly boosted morale.

Noticing Hubert’s discomfort, Maurice chuckled bitterly.

“I know what everyone thinks of me. They see me as a pathetic fool obsessed with superstitions.”

“That’s... not true. Everyone knows your fondness for fortune-telling...”

“It’s not just a hobby.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s not just a hobby. I wanted to believe.”

Maurice placed trembling hands on Hubert’s shoulders. There was something he desperately wanted to say before he died.

Even his voice quivered as he continued, “Even if everyone calls it nonsense, even if they tell me not to believe, even if they mock me, I... I couldn’t stop.”

“Sir...”

“Because she told me she could help me find my lost child. That’s why... That’s why I believe her, even if no one else does. Because only she could give me hope.”

Maurice bit his trembling lips repeatedly, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Before he could finish, a panicked knight interrupted.

“The enemy is here! A superhuman is leading the charge!”

Far in the distance, a cloud of dust rose, and at its forefront, a figure was sprinting faster than the horses.

Maurice drew his sword and turned to face them, a bitter smile on his lips.

“That’s what it means to be a parent.”

Hubert was speechless. Until now, he had thought Maurice was simply a fool clinging to meaningless beliefs.

But Maurice wasn’t a fool. He was a man desperately holding onto hope.

Maurice glanced at the sky before turning to Hubert.

“And the soldiers who follow me... they’re like my children too.”

Taking a deep breath, Maurice shouted, “Run! Their target is me!”

“Sir!”

The knights around him protested, but Maurice stood firm.

“Go! This isn’t where you die! You must live to fight another day and protect this Kingdom!”

“Sir, we can’t—”

“That’s an order! Flee and regroup with the lords’ armies! Protect this Kingdom!”

Maurice’s sword erupted in blue mana. Though dim and flickering due to his exhaustion, his mastery as a high-ranking knight was evident.

Even in his weakened state, he could hold the enemy at bay for a time.

Despite his command, the soldiers hesitated, unable to abandon him.

The black dot on the horizon grew rapidly until it was upon them.

A thunderous crash announced the arrival of Bicontis. His tattered black robes and bloodstained figure exuded raw menace.

“Marquis McQuarry.”

Bicontis sneered. After days of battle and significant losses, he finally had his prey in sight.

“Have you delivered your last words?”

Maurice trembled slightly but steadied his sword. He intended to land at least one blow before falling.

But before they could clash, a thunderous sound echoed to their right.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each step was like an explosion, the earth trembling with its force.

All eyes turned to the source of the sound.

A woman, dressed in pristine white clerical robes and wielding a massive mace, approached.

Bicontis squinted in confusion.

“A woman? A priestess?”

As she drew closer, something seemed off.

“What... is that?”

From a distance, she seemed ordinary, but her proportions and the size of her weapon became increasingly imposing.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The ground shook with each step, and the gap closed rapidly. Bicontis tensed, recognizing her extraordinary power.

“Stop! Identify yourself!”

Before he could react, the woman lunged forward with incredible speed.

Bicontis’s face twisted in shock. Her frame was massive, dwarfing most men, and the mace she wielded was larger than a human body.

With a surge of power, she swung the mace at Bicontis.

“Damn you!”

Bicontis raised his arms to block, intending to counterattack—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion reverberated as Bicontis’s arm shattered, and he was flung far away, coughing blood.

The woman exhaled sharply, her expression fierce.

“My name is Parniel, devout servant of the Goddess of War.”

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Later hailed as the "Saint of War" and one of the Seven Strongest of the Continent, Parniel had arrived in the Ruthania Kingdom.

Her overwhelming presence silenced everyone.

Maurice, jaw agape, turned slowly to Hubert.

Meeting his gaze, Maurice grinned awkwardly and said, “I told you she was good, didn’t I?”

Hubert could only nod.

The fortuneteller hadn’t been lying after all.