The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

"What happens to people after they die?"

"I don't know since I haven't died yet."

I answered casually to a friend's sudden question while we were drinking.

It was a question I had never thought about. It would have been better to spend that time sharpening my sword a little more.

"I've heard there are tales of reincarnation."

"Then I hope to be born into an ordinary family next time. I just want to live quietly."

When I said I wanted to live quietly, he laughed for a while before asking again.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yeah."

"There are many suffering from disasters even now. If you take action, more people will die."

"I don't care."

"I never realized how much pain you had beneath your cheerful demeanor."

"Everyone has a painful past, don't they?"

Nodding, my friend raised his glass and said, "Let's go monster hunting again when this is over."

"Find someone fun to fight."

He chuckled, took a gulp of his drink, and set his glass down.

"I wish you success. Do you want me to pray for you?"

"I don't believe in gods. I only believe in this."

I laughed as I swung my sword, and he shook his head, standing up.

"Take care. I won't go far."

"Of course."

Swish.

A black vortex appeared, and my friend's body seemed to be sucked into it and vanished.

"Well, that's a convenient skill."

Left alone, I lifted my glass.

One drink, two drinks, three drinks.

The past began to resurface.

'I regret it.'

Perdium territory in the northern part of the Lutania Kingdom.

A poor and barren land located on the fringes of the kingdom, constantly having to fight against barbarians.

I was born as the heir of that territory.

'I was pathetic.'

I lived a life full of complaints, comparing myself to other noble youths.

Comparison breeds inferiority.

Inferiority expressed itself through childish behavior, leading to constant ridicule from others.

A good-for-nothing, a madman, a shut-in swordmaster...

I lived with every bad nickname thrown at me and eventually fled my family.

For several years, I wandered as a mercenary.

Perhaps out of luck, I survived countless battlefields.

As I honed my skills and built my reputation while dancing between life and death, I began to miss my hometown.

'Back then, I thought returning to my family would make everything right.'

Regret for my youthful recklessness and apologies filled my mind, and I thought I would return to my family and be a great support.

But...

When I returned, my family and territory had turned to ashes.

I could do nothing but hide.

Fearing I would be harmed, I had to live in hiding, abandoning even the noble name.

'I should have become stronger.'

A new goal arose.

I endured bone-crushing pain, spending years of hardship. I fought constantly against the countless disasters that struck the continent.

At some point, I was called by a new name.

The Mercenary King.

And I stood at the glorious position of one of the seven strongest on the continent.

At that point, my life lacked for nothing. I had numerous subordinates, high prestige, and the skills to match.

'But still, it wasn't enough.'

Yet I always felt thirsty.

The family that no longer existed, the regrets of my youth, the late realizations.

Every bit of my past tormented me, and I couldn't sleep without alcohol.

My family, friends, and the people of my territory... they would never return.

'I regret it.'

The war was still not over.

The disasters that swept across the continent stained everything with blood. The pained groans of people never ceased.

But my heart could no longer contain those screams.

'It's time.'

Now was the moment to set aside regret. There was still one thing left to do.

I had always postponed this task, attaching reasons like still being weak, still lacking, still being cautious... still... still...

'Revenge.'

Yes, it was time to take revenge on those who had destroyed my family.

A sense of emptiness was consuming me. I could no longer delay.

Their blood would fill the void within me.

I set down my drink and grasped my sword.

***

The Mercenary King Ghislain raised an army.

Upon hearing the news that he, who held a name among the seven strongest on the continent, was marching, everyone was astonished.

Although he was ranked lower among the seven, the tactical value of the "Mercenary King" was said to be equal to that of an entire nation's military.

— Why did the Mercenary King make such a choice!

Amidst ongoing wars, Ghislain's actions drew much public outrage.

Why incite a conflict now, of all times?

Then, he revealed his hidden name and lineage.

"My family's revenge is more important to me."

The target of his revenge was the Lutania Kingdom, where his family once resided. Ghislain pointed his sword towards his long-lost homeland.

Drawn by the reputation of the Mercenary King, many joined the war.

His loyal subordinates and opportunists all drew their swords alongside him.

"My only goal is the destruction of Lutania."

Though Lutania was known as a military power, Ghislain, as one of the seven strongest, was terrifyingly powerful.

He smashed everything in his path, laying waste to the kingdom.

But his advance soon met with fierce resistance.

'This is strange.'

Fierce opponents he had never known began to appear and block his way. Yet they were not from Lutania.

Why were these outsiders opposing Ghislain?

'There's something more.'

Pushing aside his doubts, Ghislain calmly dealt with them one by one as he progressed.

To win the war, Ghislain needed to finish it quickly. But the emergence of hidden powerhouses derailed his plans.

As the war dragged on, finances rapidly deteriorated, and mercenaries began to leave, weighing their gains and losses.

Then, a decisive event occurred that sealed the outcome.

The 'noble knight', Idun, of the seven strongest, intervened.

The scales tipped sharply towards the kingdom. In the end, during the final battle, Ghislain found himself kneeling before the enemy.

"Karto. Or was it truly Ghislain? So this is how it ends."

The golden-haired handsome man in ornate armor, Idun, said with a bemused smile.

Though his armor was dented and his hair disheveled, he bore no life-threatening injuries.

In contrast, Ghislain, kneeling before him, was pierced by dozens of spears and swords, making it difficult to find a single intact spot on his body.

Despite bleeding, Ghislain grinned through clenched teeth at Idun.

"Annoying bastard. I didn't expect you to interfere."

Idun laughed again as he surveyed the battlefield.

The fierce battle had left destruction in every direction. Bodies piled like mountains, and blood flowed like rivers.

"Your men have all fled. Truly a lowly scoundrel without pride."

"Hmph, a mercenary who knows how to survive is a skilled one. No need to die if you can live."

Idun snorted as he raised his sword to Ghislain's neck.

"Any last words?"

"None. I'm just regretful that I couldn't completely destroy the kingdom. Now kill me, you nauseating bastard."

"How presumptuous."

It seemed Idun didn't like Ghislain's confident demeanor, as he curled his lips in disdain.

"I've never liked you. It disgusts me to be mentioned in the same breath as a vulgar mercenary like you."

"Did you think anyone likes you?"

"But I was surprised to learn that you were the last survivor of the Perdium family."

Ghislain's eyebrows twitched.

The tone of Idun's remark felt strange; it was more than just a casual observation.

Seeing the confused look on Ghislain's face, Idun smiled with satisfaction. He leaned closer to Ghislain's ear and whispered.

"I never thought the lost heir of Perdium family would be you. Your sister died, and then you left home, didn't you? I searched for you once."

"How do you know that?"

Idun was not a citizen of Lutania. Therefore, there was no reason for him to know such detailed information about events that took place long ago in a foreign land.

Moreover, the fact that he searched for Ghislain was perplexing.

"Of course I know. 'We' conspired with the Duke Delphine to destroy your family."

"What?"

Idun's words struck Ghislain like a bolt of lightning.

The Duke Delphine, who had destroyed Perdium, had long since launched a rebellion and seized the kingdom.

Thus, Ghislain had no choice but to take the entire kingdom as a target for his revenge.

But to think people from another country were involved in that incident!

Ghislain's body stiffened in disbelief as he frantically shouted.

"'We'? Are you saying there was backing from the duke's house!"

"Backing... is not a word I prefer. You might as well think of it as we're all on the same side."

Though Idun was arrogant and repulsive, he was also someone who preached justice. That was why he was called the "Noble Knight."

It was hard to believe that someone like him was involved in a conspiracy to destroy Perdium.

"Why would you involve yourself with our family... Isn't that a territory that has nothing to do with you?"

"The world doesn't work so simply. Well, a lowly mercenary like you wouldn't understand such a sophisticated concept."

"Then you were involved in this war as well...?"

"Right, to tie things up nicely. I can't let any stains tarnish my name."

As soon as Idun finished speaking, he raised his sword high. When that sword fell, Ghislain's head would surely follow.

"You! I won't forgive you!"

Ghislain struggled to rise.

But with his already broken body, he couldn't even muster his mana.

"You fool, it's over now. See, you should have lived within your means as a mercenary."

With a cold scoff, Idun swiftly swung his sword.

Slash!

For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped.

A chilling sensation brushed past his neck.

His vision began to spin.

Amidst the blooming blood, Ghislain felt all the emotions that had tormented him over the years flooding back.

Regret, emptiness, sorrow, disappointment...

But ultimately, what remained was an unquenchable rage.

— I've heard there are tales of reincarnation.

Why did the last words of my friend suddenly come to mind?

'If I truly get reborn! I will tear you to shreds!'

Thud.

His severed head tumbled to the ground.

With eyes wide open in anguish, the Mercenary King Ghislain took his last breath in despair.

***

'Am I alive?'

Though his neck had been severed, could it have been an illusion?

Ghislain cautiously opened his eyes without moving recklessly.

'A tent?'

He saw a military field tent typically used in a camp.

'Am I a prisoner?'

Not sensing anyone nearby, it seemed he was alone in the tent.

Furthermore, he wasn't even bound.

'These arrogant fools. They left me like this without even tying me up?'

It seemed they found him quite amusing. How dare they leave him lying there without restraints?

He cautiously tried to summon his mana, but he felt none of the vast power he once had.

'Sure enough, they must have taken some precautions.'

Slowly propping himself up, he scanned the surroundings.

'A sword?'

Next to the makeshift bed leaned a sword.

"Hah, they really do think I'm a joke."

Even without mana, the swordsmanship he had honed remained. With just a sword, he could kill hundreds of ordinary soldiers.

'I don't know what they're thinking, but they'll regret this.'

Once he escaped this place, he could recover his mana.

Rustle.

At that moment, he sensed someone entering the tent.

Ghislain quickly lay back down, closing his eyes.

A soldier entered, bringing something with him. The fragrant aroma of soup suggested he was bringing food.

Though his stomach grumbled at the smell, this was not the time to focus on eating.

As the soldier prepared the meal with his back turned, Ghislain swiftly drew his sword and moved like lightning.

"Shhh, answer my questions honestly, and I might let you live."

After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Or maybe not."

The soldier was startled when the sword came to his neck but quickly relaxed his body, as if he had given up on resisting.

Just as Ghislain was about to ask a question, a sigh escaped the soldier's lips, followed by a somewhat irritated voice.

"Sigh, Young Lord, why are you doing this again? Are you bored? Can't you just go back to the castle?"

"...Huh?"

Ghislain was taken aback, lost for words. Even as a prisoner, how dare this mere soldier speak to the Mercenary King in such a manner?

But...

This irritation felt oddly familiar.