In a dimly lit tavern in one of the towns, mercenaries gathered, drinking and chatting loudly. “Did you see that bastard begging for his life?” “Some ex-bandits they turned out to be. Worthless.” “Yeah, calling them ex-bandits is generous. The real tough ones are all dead, and the capable ones got scooped up by the lord.” “There were still a few with some fight left in them, but once you bash their heads in, they behave real quick. Hahaha!” Their laughter was crude, filled with mockery and disdain. The subject of their ridicule was none other than the members of Julien’s Mercenary Corps, particularly the former bandits whom Ghislain had recruited. These ex-bandits, tasked with handling various minor requests under Ghislain’s command, had recently suffered several humiliating defeats. The mercenaries responsible for most of these attacks were sitting right there in the tavern—they were the Black Hammer Mercenary Corps. As the mercenaries continued drinking, their whispers turned into bold taunts. “Hey, weren’t those brats supposed to have some crazy guy with them? You know, the one they call the ‘Bandit Crusher’?” “Oh, please. That’s all talk. We’re not the only ones who’ve taken shots at them, and they haven’t done a thing about it.” “Yeah, maybe they don’t care about what happens to their «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» little bandit buddies. Besides, there’s no proof it was us.” They chuckled, raising their glasses and laughing again. These mercenaries always masked their faces during ambushes, ensuring they couldn’t be identified. They had already sabotaged several of Julien’s contracts, slowly chipping away at the group’s reputation. To them, Julien’s Mercenary Corps was nothing more than a bunch of upstarts—young rookies who had suddenly appeared on the scene and even resorted to recruiting ex-bandits to fill their ranks. “They’ve got no respect for the code. Aren’t mercenaries supposed to share work fairly and team up for big contracts? That’s how it’s always been in this industry.” “Exactly. If the baron didn’t shield them, they’d already be wiped out.” “And that black mage they took down? That was probably all knights doing the work. No way they handled that themselves.” “Anyone know for sure what circle that mage was? Four? Maybe five?” Their uncertainty showed in their expressions. Julien’s Mercenary Corps was clearly skilled, but no one knew the extent of their abilities. Ghislain, in particular, had deliberately obscured his magical prowess, even spreading rumors that he was only a 4th Circle Mage. As a result, no one truly understood his capabilities. “Well, they did capture that dark mage’s apprentice. That much we know.” “Yeah, but there are plenty of people waiting to take them down the moment they step out of Nodehill.” At that moment, a loud crash echoed through the tavern. KWAANG! The door exploded inward, sending splinters flying. Every mercenary jumped to their feet, weapons drawn. Their gazes shot toward the source of the commotion—the shattered entrance. Standing there, grinning broadly, was Ghislain. “So this is where you’ve all been hiding. Well, I guess this is your little hideout, huh?” The mercenaries scowled, their expressions darkening. “Bandit Crusher...” “Looks like he finally decided to show himself...” “Is he here to start something?” Baron Andrew’s favor toward Julien’s Mercenary Corps was well-known, so most groups avoided direct conflict with them. However, with Ghislain boldly showing up at their doorstep, the situation changed. Some of the mercenaries smirked, emboldened by the apparent challenge. Others, however, tensed, unease creeping across their faces. Even without firsthand experience, the reputation of Julien’s Mercenary Corps was formidable. Winning would be lucky, but losing could spell utter humiliation—or worse, death. Breaking the silence, a hulking, hairy man stepped forward. His massive frame dominated the room. “Bandit Crusher, what brings you here?” This was Osvald, the leader of the Black Hammer Mercenary Corps. The group’s name came from his nickname, earned by the enormous black hammer he wielded in battle. Ghislain rested his steel mage’s staff on his shoulder, his smile never wavering. “Are you really asking because you don’t know? Or do you just want me to ruin the surprise?” Osvald narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Ghislain tilted his head mockingly. “I’ll make this easy for you. No need for evidence or explanations—just kneel and beg, and maybe I’ll forgive you.” “Pfft. So you’ve been doing well lately, huh? Starting to think you’re invincible?” “You know why I didn’t act sooner?” “Why?” “I was waiting. Waiting for every single one of you to take your shots. Didn’t want anyone to slip through the cracks.” Osvald frowned, confused. It took a moment for Ghislain’s meaning to sink in. “Wait... you’re telling me you’ve just been sitting there, waiting for us to come at you? So you could hit us all at once?” Ghislain’s grin widened. Osvald let out a disbelieving laugh. “Hah... You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.” With a loud THUD, Osvald slammed his massive hammer onto the floor, shaking the entire building. “You cocky bastard... Fine, yeah, we hit you. So what? You come here to die?” Osvald began advancing toward Ghislain, his steps heavy and deliberate. Meanwhile, the rest of the Black Hammer Mercenary Corps—about twenty in total—moved to surround Ghislain and his group. They planned to overwhelm him before he could cast any spells. Osvald’s mind raced. ‘The baron’s protection doesn’t matter anymore. This lunatic came here looking for trouble... We might as well finish this now.’ Ghislain abruptly broke the tension with a casual remark. “Let’s take this outside.” “What?” “If we’re going to fight, let’s do it properly. No brawling here. I don’t want to break everyone’s arms and legs and leave them useless.” Osvald snorted. “You want a proper fight? With me? Or your boss?” “I’ll handle this myself. No need to trouble my leader. How about this: I won’t use magic—I’ll just beat you with my staff.” Osvald burst into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Hah... You’ve got to be kidding me. A mage, challenging me in close combat?” Despite his laughter, Osvald’s instincts told him to be cautious. ‘Why would he make such a ridiculous offer? Does he really think he can win against me?’ Osvald’s doubts grew. He couldn’t afford to underestimate someone with Ghislain’s reputation, no matter how absurd the situation seemed. The Black Hammer Mercenary Corps had likely been involved in the raids and subjugations. The lack of true bandits in the area and the overwhelming number of captured criminals made such tasks feasible. A few of these bandits had even been recruited into Julien’s Mercenary Corps. However, despite their intimidating reputation, the rank-and-file members of Julien’s Mercenary Corps weren’t particularly strong. Being ex-bandits, they were tougher than ordinary people, but they stood no chance against seasoned mercenaries who fought for a living. In other words, Julien’s Mercenary Corps was far less capable than its reputation suggested. Osvald, the leader of the Black Hammer Mercenary Corps, couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling he had. ‘Ah, now I get it. This is just some noble’s trick to make it look like they’ve got a great mercenary corps under their wing.’ Such theatrics were common among aristocrats. To Osvald, it seemed the most plausible explanation. ‘Wanting to fight out in the open, huh? That probably means they’ll try to put some distance between us and use magic. Makes sense—they wouldn’t want to risk a chaotic melee here.’ Completely misunderstanding the situation, Osvald smirked. If they got outside and formed a proper formation, such an obvious strategy wouldn’t work. It seemed smarter to play along and take the fight outside. Fighting in this cramped space would only cause unnecessary casualties among his own men. Turning to his mercenaries, Osvald barked an order. “Fine. We’ll take this outside. No sense ruining a perfectly good tavern.” His plan was simple: surround them the moment they stepped outside and crush them all. As soon as they had the upper hand, the entire Black Hammer Mercenary Corps would charge. And so, as expected, the moment they stepped outside, the Black Hammer Mercenaries surrounded Julien’s group. The space was just wide enough to disadvantage a mage. Osvald glared at Ghislain and shouted. “Attack! Kill them all!” “Waaaaaaah!” The Black Hammer Mercenaries charged, weapons raised. Ghislain, however, remained unfazed, his expression calm as though he’d anticipated this. Julien and Kyle, standing beside him, looked similarly indifferent. Only the ex-bandit subordinates seemed unsure of what to do, glancing around nervously. Osvald, grinning with sadistic glee, charged straight at Ghislain. “Die, you bastard!” With a thunderous roar, he swung his massive black hammer at Ghislain, fully expecting the blow to annihilate his opponent. CLANG! “Huh?” Something was wrong. Despite the hammer being made of solid steel, Ghislain’s slender staff had effortlessly blocked the attack. Ghislain smirked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re worse with a hammer than my sister.” If anyone deserved the title of “hammer expert,” it was Elena. She’d grown so proficient with her enormous hammer that even Ghislain had to admit her skill was impressive. Compared to her, Osvald’s swings felt light and clumsy. “You little bastard! What did you just say?!” Osvald, his pride wounded, began swinging his hammer wildly. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Sparks flew as their weapons clashed repeatedly. Ghislain, testing Osvald’s strength and technique, blocked each blow with ease. To Osvald, however, it felt like a nightmare. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be a mage?!” Osvald’s mind raced as he arrived at a conclusion. This was all an elaborate hoax. The baron must have spread false rumors about Ghislain being a mage. Believing his theory, Osvald shouted at the top of his lungs. “This whole mercenary corps is a fraud! They’re hiding something!” “What nonsense are you spouting?” Having gauged Osvald’s abilities, Ghislain finally swung his staff with full force. THWACK! “Gaaah!” The staff struck Osvald’s leg, forcing him to stumble backward with a cry of pain. His face twisted in shock. He hadn’t even seen the staff move. All he knew was that the moment he felt pain, his body instinctively recoiled. Before he could process what had happened, the staff came down again. “W-wait!” THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Ghislain’s steel staff mercilessly pounded Osvald’s body. Each blow broke another bone, leaving Osvald helpless on the ground. “Argh! Please, stop!” Osvald screamed, dropping his hammer and curling into a ball to protect himself. As he rolled on the ground, he shouted desperately. “What are you all doing?! Attack him! Now! Kill him!” But no one came to his aid. The only sound was the repeated impact of the staff against his body. ‘Why... why isn’t anyone helping me?’ It was only then that Osvald noticed the eerie silence around him. The tavern, the shouting—it was all gone. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖 Peering through the pain, he saw his comrades sprawled on the ground, groaning in agony. The mercenaries hadn’t abandoned him—they’d been taken down before they could even act. Standing nearby, Julien and Kyle stood motionless, their eyes cold and unyielding. They hadn’t even needed to draw their weapons to handle the rest of the mercenaries. The ex-bandit subordinates, meanwhile, stood rooted in place, too scared to even look up. Osvald felt a chill run down his spine. ‘This... this is real. Not just him—the whole lot of them are monsters.’ He’d miscalculated everything. Julien’s Mercenary Corps was far stronger than he could have imagined. Especially the one standing above him now. Ghislain looked down at Osvald and spoke coldly. “The Black Hammer Mercenary Corps is no more. From today on, you’ll be reborn into something new.” Osvald, trembling, nodded furiously, not even understanding the full weight of those words. He only knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want to die.