The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations

Chapter 566: If You Run Now, You Might Survive (3)
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The commander of the 6th Legion infantry of the Atrodé Army, Viscount Kedron, was utterly miserable.

They weren’t even fighting directly, yet the mere act of moving was exhausting.

“Isn’t marching supposed to be the virtue of infantry?” He grumbled internally. It felt like they never stopped walking.

“Hurry up! We need to establish our position at the next area!”

The soldiers moved frantically, obeying orders without knowing why or where they were headed.

Those decisions were made by the higher-ups and simply relayed down to them.

The soldiers whispered among themselves, their faces marked by exhaustion.

“God, this is insane.”

“Are we even at war?”

“Why do we keep going back and forth like this?”

These were seasoned troops, but even they had never experienced such maddening marching. In the meantime, they hadn’t fought a single real battle. They were either hiding, waiting, or digging endless traps that wouldn’t even be used.

They called it “tactical movement,” but no soldier understood it.

Though dissatisfied, they had no choice but to follow the 6th Legion obediently.

Viscount Kedron wiped his sweat as he studied the map.

“Hah, at least this time it’s a bit better.”

Their mission was to fortify a position at the designated location. Once the defenses were set up, they only needed to hold their ground. Their role was to block the enemy’s advance and buy time. A tough task, but it was something tangible they could finally do.

“Move quickly!”

Though the enemy forces had been reduced, no one knew when they might reappear. Since their infantry unit was relatively small, speed was of the essence.

As they marched with effort, a dusty cloud began to rise from the rear.

A soldier with sharp eyes noticed it first.

“Huh? Huh?”

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

The ground trembled faintly as a group of riders appeared on the horizon, all mounted.

The observing soldier’s face contorted in horror.

“Shit, they’re not ours.”

It was immediately clear—they weren’t allies. The enemy had found them.

The soldier shouted as loud as he could.

“Enemy attack! The enemy’s here!”

Viscount Kedron jolted in shock.

“What? How? That’s impossible!”

They had reliable intel on enemy movements. They had long since left the battlefields where the allied forces had begun their pursuit.

Moreover, they had taken a completely unexpected route to avoid detection.

How had they found and caught up so quickly?

“Form a defensive line! Now! We have to hold them back!”

The soldiers here were elites. They had vast combat experience and had secured numerous victories.

They quickly formed ranks, lowering their spears and readying their shields. The archers prepared their bows from /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the rear.

It was a formation specifically designed to stop cavalry charges.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

The soldiers crouched low. All they needed to do was withstand the first charge with minimal damage. If they succeeded, victory was possible.

They had plenty of experience in that regard.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

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The soldiers on the front line gripped their shields tightly, gritting their teeth.

The first impact of a cavalry charge always caused the most casualties. Facing it head-on made their hearts pound as if they would burst.

Yet they did not lose their resolve. They trusted in their experience and felt confident they would survive.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

But strangely, the cavalry charging toward them began to slow down. The soldiers wore confused expressions.

The cavalry should be speeding up, not slowing down.

Only the man at the front kept his pace steady, charging forward without hesitation.

Seeing this, the lower-ranking officers shouted loudly, encouraging their men.

“The enemy’s slowing down!”

“We can hold them off!”

“It’s just one man! Don’t fire the arrows yet!”

This was good news. If the enemy slowed, the impact would be weaker. It would also make them more vulnerable to arrows.

The soldiers’ confidence swelled a little more.

It was just one man. Even if he were a superhuman, their formation wouldn’t break so easily.

The man leading the cavalry—Julien—gripped the reins tightly as he neared the soldiers.

Clatter!

His horse suddenly veered to the side and came to a stop. Julien turned naturally, positioning the enemy line to his side.

Slowly, he raised his sword.

The Atrodé soldiers watched, perplexed. They couldn’t deny that the sight was strangely picturesque.

“What the hell is he doing? Why does he look so damn impressive?”

“Is he trying to negotiate a surrender?”

“The cavalry slowing down makes it seem that way.”

They began to speculate among themselves.

Then, Julien’s sword traced a smooth arc as he lowered it.

And at that moment—

Craaaaack!

The ground split apart in a perfect line. At the same time, the soldiers standing in the sword’s path were cleaved in two.

It was as if a colossal blade had sliced straight through the center of their formation.

It happened in an instant. The soldiers who had missed it stared blankly, unable to comprehend what had occurred.

Seconds later, as they realized what had happened, they screamed.

“Aaaaah!”

“What the hell!”

“How is this even possible?!”

Julien had done nothing more than swing his sword from a distance. And yet the formation had been cut through to its end.

Everyone in its path was split in half, dead.

The remaining soldiers instinctively stepped aside.

The vivid line carved into the ground, and the bodies of their comrades, made it clear that this was real.

Unable to grasp what had just happened, the soldiers fell into utter confusion. Their will to fight vanished entirely.

Clop, clop.

Julien urged his horse forward at a slow pace. In the heavy silence, he began to pass through the gap in their formation.

None of the soldiers dared to stop him. All they could do was watch as he moved through them.

It was like a weak animal freezing at the sight of a predator.

Clop, clop.

An enemy had entered the middle of their formation alone, yet the soldiers stepped back further. The thought that they couldn’t approach him weighed heavily on them all.

At the very rear, Viscount Kedron stammered.

“W-What are you doing? A-Attack... him...”

But even he couldn’t speak properly. His mind had gone blank from sheer terror.

Was this even possible? Could a human possess such power?

It was only natural that they couldn’t understand.

Julien had become even stronger. Through battles with Helgenique and Leonard, he had gained an understanding that allowed him to grow naturally.

The higher Julien’s level rose, the greater the power of his attacks when there was a significant gap in skill between him and his opponents.

Clop.

Before long, Julien stopped in front of the pale-faced Viscount Kedron.

Then, he swung his sword again.

Slice.

Thunk.

Viscount Kedron's head fell to the ground, as naturally as if it had always belonged there.

Julien glanced behind him and spoke in a calm, low voice.

“If you run now, you can live.”

With those words, he spurred his horse forward again, his attitude making it clear he no longer cared about the soldiers.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

At the same time, the cavalry that had been waiting behind him accelerated once more.

The Atrodé Army had already fallen into panic, their formation crumbling completely. The moment the cavalry swept through, they would be utterly destroyed.

“R-Run! Run away!”

Someone shouted. At that cry, the soldiers scattered in all directions.

These were seasoned veterans, yet even they couldn’t withstand such an incomprehensible situation.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

The cavalry ignored the fleeing soldiers and followed behind Julien.

Not a single one of them needed to fight. The enemy’s minds were already gripped by terror, and any will to resist had been completely crushed.

Julien rode on, following Dark’s guidance.

“......”

He still said nothing. He didn’t bother trying to learn more or ask questions.

There was no need. Predicting what they were aiming for wasn’t difficult.

As he had anticipated, the commander of the 6th Legion, Count Srouke, had positioned himself along the route where the allied reinforcements were expected to arrive.

“Scout the surroundings and find a good hiding place.”

He now planned to wait for an opportune moment. From here on, he would have to move more cautiously.

Count Srouke reviewed their strategic objectives once again.

“If we strike the reinforcements and take control of their supply lines, the Ruthania Army will have no choice but to respond.”

Once they engaged, the other legions that were lying in wait would join the fray. After that, the legions that defeated the allied forces would pursue the Ruthania Army.

And most importantly, they would also seize control of the supply routes. At that point, the war would be as good as over.

“The timing must be perfect...”

Of course, this was only possible if the legion commanders received information quickly and acted decisively.

If the smaller legions ended up fighting the Ruthania Army separately, they risked being annihilated. That’s why they had to remain vigilant and move without pause.

“It’s a feasible plan. We can succeed.”

The other commanders were just as competent as he was, if not more so.

Everything had been going well so far. Some minor details had changed, but the overall strategy was progressing smoothly.

As Count Srouke waited for news from his scouts, reviewing the plan once again—

“Enemies! Enemies are approaching!”

A scout ran up, shouting urgently.

Count Srouke frowned and muttered under his breath.

“Enemies?”

Why were the enemy forces already here? The allied army’s route didn’t come this way.

Meanwhile, his own troops had taken a long, winding path to get here. Besides, there should have been infantry positioned along that route.

Even if they had fought through those forces, there was no way they could have arrived this quickly.

But the scout continued in a frantic voice.

“It’s a cavalry force of about 20,000! They’re approaching at an incredible speed!”

“Click.”

Count Srouke clicked his tongue in irritation. They must have come by another route. How had they known to come here?

And there were so many of them. Even if they tried to flee, it would only result in a long and exhausting chase.

That left only one option: to fight.

“It’s unfortunate the 5th Legion hasn’t arrived yet, but no matter. Prepare for battle! Mages, set up a mana barrier just in case!”

The Atrodé Army swiftly formed their battle lines.

In a cavalry battle, the side with the stronger destructive force would win.

The 6th Legion had two superhumans among them. If those two led from the front, they had a chance of victory.

Count Srouke turned to the priests and spoke.

“You two must stop the enemy first. Just for a moment. We will strike them from the flanks.”

“Understood.”

The priests stepped forward confidently. Unless they were facing Ruthania’s main force, there was little chance of encountering another superhuman.

The allied forces should be no different from before.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

Before long, a massive cloud of dust rose in the distance, signaling the approach of the enemy cavalry.

“They’re coming! Prepare yourselves!”

At Count Srouke’s command, the 6th Legion’s cavalry began to spread out to the sides, preparing to attack the enemy’s flanks.

Boom!

At the same time, the two priests shot forward.

Their goal was to disrupt the enemy cavalry formation. In cavalry battles, maneuverability was particularly important.

Fwoosh!

The priests smirked as they rushed forward.

The enemy cavalry was slowing down, clearly trying to avoid a flanking attack.

But that wasn’t why they were sneering.

Clop, clop, clop.

At the front of the enemy force, a single man approached alone.

They knew there were superhumans on their side, and yet that man dared to charge ahead alone.

“Arrogant fool!”

“Does he think he’s the Duke of Fenris?”

The priests were offended.

Rumors of the Salvation Order priests being “half-baked superhumans” had spread across the continent. They had also repeatedly lost to the Duke of Fenris in past battles.

Though they were regaining some of their reputation in this war, many still underestimated them.

Every time they fought the allied forces, knights would rush directly at them, believing they could take them down if they worked together.

Whoooom!

The priests gathered their energy, black aura surging up their bodies.

They intended to kill this insolent man and massacre the rest of the enemy forces.

Only then would fear of them spread across the continent once again.

Boom!

The two priests accelerated even further, shooting toward Julien.

“Die!”

With black energy radiating from their hands, they lunged at him.

Julien, who had been watching them approach, finally swung his sword in a diagonal arc.

Slice.

“Huh?”

One of the priests felt something strange. His body wouldn’t move any further.

Puzzled, he looked down—and his eyes widened in shock.

“What... What is this...?”

His body had already been sliced cleanly in half.

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