The thunderous sound of galloping hooves filled the air. The 500-strong force spotted by the mage was none other than Ghislain and the Julien Mercenary Corps. They had left the suppression force as bait, launching a daring raid to capture Marquis Falkenheim while his main army was tied up at the frontlines. As they rode at full speed, Dark, who had gone ahead on reconnaissance, suddenly called out to Ghislain. — Master! Big trouble! There’s an army ahead, fully fortified! They must have been here in advance! "What?" Ghislain was startled. The route he had chosen was supposed to be completely clear—there was no way Falkenheim’s forces should be patrolling this area. And yet, an army was already waiting? A chill ran down his spine—the first time he had felt this since returning to the past. ‘Did someone predict my plan and set this up?’ Before executing his strategy, Ghislain had thoroughly analyzed the movements of the marquis’s forces and his vassals. None of them had even considered the possibility of a raid. The main armies—over a hundred thousand strong—were locked in a stalemate. No one would expect an operation as insane as this, where the only transcendent warrior on the battlefield suddenly abandoned the frontline. Yet someone had foreseen this and placed an army here in advance. Whoever was commanding must be an incredible strategist. "What’s their number?" — About three thousand! "Three thousand?" Ghislain tilted his head. If they had anticipated his move, there was no way they would have only stationed three thousand troops. Which meant... ‘Could it be that they’ve deployed all their transcendent warriors here?’ If so, he had been outmaneuvered. Falkenheim’s forces had also used their main army as bait and set a trap. A grin spread across Ghislain’s face as he gripped his staff tightly. He wanted to meet the person behind this. He had never expected to encounter someone who would use such a bold and reckless strategy like his own. His pulse raced with excitement. "Alright. I’ll give them my recognition. Let’s see what they’ve got." The ground trembled under the hooves of the charging horses. Ghislain’s killing intent surged, and the mercenaries—feeling his energy—began radiating their own battle spirit. The tension of an imminent clash spread through the ranks. Both sides were deeply misunderstanding the situation, but given the circumstances, their assumptions made sense. After all, this area was far removed from the battlefield. The sound of hooves grew louder as Ghislain and his mercenaries charged forward without hesitation. And then—they saw it. The enemy camp came into view. The opposing forces had already noticed them and were fully prepared in battle formation. "As expected." Ghislain grinned. Their level of preparation proved that they had been expecting him. And that meant their commander was exceptional. A true leader never let their guard down. "This opponent is unlike the ones we’ve faced so far! Don’t get careless—give it your all!" At Ghislain’s words, the mercenaries gripped their weapons tighter. They had never heard him speak like this before. His tone alone told them—this would be a real fight. The mana within Ghislain flared to its limit. There was surely a transcendent warrior among the enemy ranks—which meant he would have to go all out from the start. As they closed in with ferocious momentum, Ghislain raised his staff to strike. And then— "Ah! Welcome, welcome!" A man—wearing a shameless grin—suddenly opened his arms in an enthusiastic greeting. "...?" Ghislain froze. ‘What kind of trick is this? Some new kind of psychological warfare?’ He hesitated for a split second, causing him to miss the perfect moment to throw his staff. The timing of the greeting was too perfect. They were still charging forward at full speed, about to crash into the enemy lines—but then the man smiled even brighter. "Oh my, why are you all in such a hurry? Relax! It’s all fine now!" "..." There was no hostility whatsoever. Ghislain finally pulled the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. The mercenaries behind him also stopped abruptly. Blinking in confusion, Ghislain asked, "...Who the hell are you?" The grinning man winked. "Oh, come on. We’re part of the ‘Take It Slow’ division. You know how it is, right?" "...No. I don’t." "Ahh, don’t play dumb! You get it, don’t you? It’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud, but you’re pulling the same move as us, aren’t you?" "..." "Since things have turned out like this, why don’t we just waste some time together? That way, our excuse for being late will be even more convincing." Count Valesant—who had no idea who Ghislain really was—was trying his best to be diplomatic. But Ghislain remained silent. Clearing his throat, Valesant tried again. "Ahem, ahem. I think I’ve explained enough... But anyway, I am Count Valesant. May I ask which territory you are from? It seems you are the commander of this force—what is your rank?" Since ranks mattered, introductions were ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) necessary. Valesant glanced at the mercenaries, noting their poorly maintained armor. ‘Huh. Their outfits are a mess. They must be from some backwater territory. They’re definitely lower ranked than me.’ Just as he was making these assumptions, Ghislain casually spoke. "We’re the Julien Mercenary Corps." "Ahh, mercenaries! That explains the shoddy armor. Which noble hired you? So your name is Julien Merce—wait." Valesant suddenly went pale. His eyes bulged as he nearly fell off his horse. Julien Mercenary Corps? The same mercenary band that started this entire war?! Valesant stammered, his face drenched in cold sweat. "Y-you’re serious?" "Dead serious." "Then... that crazy transcendent warrior..." "That’s me." "...!" Valesant’s mind went blank. The one person they could never hope to handle had appeared. And it wasn’t even at the battlefield. This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight. It was here—in what was supposed to be the safest and most peaceful place. And they had just welcomed him with open arms. It was so absurdly stupid, it was almost funny. But the only correct response was not to fight—it was to run. Yet before he could even think about escaping, one of his officers—who had not fully grasped the situation—shouted, "Prepare for battle! Prepare for battle! The enemy is here!" The soldiers, thinking they were safe just moments ago, panicked and scrambled to grab their weapons. Ghislain, still holding his staff, tilted his head and asked, "Do you have any transcendent warriors here?" "Th-there’s no way! Why would a transcendent be here?!" "..." Ghislain sighed. "Alright. I don’t have time for this. Just kill them." "We surrender! We surrender!" "..." Count Valesant had never intended to fight in the first place. He had been avoiding battle from the start, so surrendering immediately was the wisest choice. The moment he leapt down from his horse and fell to his knees, he shouted, “I, Count Valesant, formally request to surrender to the ‘Supreme Commander of the Kingdom’s Army.’” “...You’re not even going to fight?” “I’ve always hated Marquis Falkenheim. I only followed his orders because I was weak and had no choice. Ah, that bastard—he’s really insufferable. Also, I love peace.” “...Sure.” Ghislain sighed. When someone this blatantly cowardly surrendered, it took all the thrill out of the battle. Not that it mattered—his priority was reaching Falkenheim as fast as possible. Then an idea came to him. “Actually, taking you with us will make this easier.” “...Huh?” “Avoiding checkpoints and fortresses is a pain. We’ll have to fight at least a few times along the way. But if we take you with us, we can just walk right through.” “Y-you mean...?” “Yeah, from now on, you’re our guide. We’ll disguise ourselves as your troops and walk straight to the marquis’s estate.” “...Couldn’t you just go without me? I promise I’ll stay out of your way.” “Nope. Bringing you makes it easier.” Ghislain flashed a wicked grin as he raised his staff again. “Of course, I respect your freedom of choice. It’s up to you.” “...Do you also respect freedom after we choose?” “Nope. I have too many responsibilities to deal with.” “...Then let’s work together.” Tears welled up in Count Valesant’s eyes as he swore allegiance. He had gone out of his way to avoid war, and yet here he was—dragged into the worst possible situation. Ghislain’s mercenaries quickly swapped into Valesant’s army uniforms. They tore off their previous insignia and raised Valesant’s banners instead. Standing in front of his confused soldiers, Count Valesant spoke firmly. “Stay here and wait! ...Don’t worry... Once we take down Falkenheim, the war will be over.” His soldiers now had no choice but to hope Julien Mercenary Corps succeeded. They had already been roped into this mess, so it was too late to back out. If Ghislain failed, they would just pretend to be hostages and beg for mercy. Valesant’s aide caught his gaze and made a subtle hand signal. The two of them had worked together for years, practically soulmates when it came to understanding each other’s intentions. ‘Should we secretly follow and help you escape?’ ‘Listen, I have a wild idea—what if we just stay here and do nothing? No need to take risks. If they really kill Falkenheim, we can just walk away.’ ‘Understood. But if anything goes wrong, I’ll come for you.’ ‘I’ll be fine. Just sit tight.’ ‘Don’t worry. Even if it costs me my life, I’ll rescue you.’ With that, Count Valesant gave one last glance at his men before following Ghislain. As they moved backward through enemy lines, Falkenheim’s checkpoints and garrisons naturally became suspicious. Every time they were stopped, Valesant stepped forward and shouted with authority: “Hey! Don’t you know who I am?! The marquis personally summoned me! We’ve been assigned as an escort for supply convoys!” The sudden war had thrown everything into chaos. There were countless troops moving around without official orders, so as long as they verified they were on Falkenheim’s side, the guards didn’t press further. Some of the knights at the checkpoints even recognized Valesant, making things even easier. Thanks to this, Julien Mercenary Corps walked straight through without a fight. Ghislain smirked as he looked at Count Valesant. ‘Lucky bastard.’ Originally, he had planned to sneak around enemy forces as much as possible, and if necessary, fight through unavoidable encounters. Since most of Falkenheim’s forces were at the frontlines, evading or overpowering smaller defensive units wouldn’t have been too difficult. But this method was even better. Going directly through enemy territory not only saved time, but also reduced the risk of being encircled if their presence was discovered. All thanks to one cowardly count. While Count Valesant remained pale, Ghislain’s mercenaries were grinning ear to ear. They had reached Falkenheim’s estate far easier than expected. However, their disguise couldn’t get them past the final gate. “Halt! Identify yourselves!” The fortress guards immediately blocked their way. Count Valesant’s expression stiffened—he knew this was coming. Unlike the previous checkpoints, there was no way to lie his way through this one. Still, he had to try. Stepping forward, he called up to the officer on the walls. “Yo, I’m here.” “...Count Valesant? What brings you here with an army?” “Uh, the marquis called me. We’re reinforcements.” “We received no such orders.” “Uh... He must have called for us in a hurry. Just open the gate already.” “Then we will send a messenger to confirm. Please wait.” At those words, Count Valesant turned to Ghislain with a panicked look. Ghislain cracked his neck. “You did well. From here on, we’ll have to do this the hard way.” “S-so I can leave now, right?” “...I’m still not convinced you’re really on our side.” “Oh, come on! We came this far together—of course we’re on the same side!” “It’d be nice if you proved it. Show us you’re fully committed to this.” Count Valesant let out a long sigh. He had been hoping to play innocent if things went wrong, but that wasn’t an option anymore. In the end, he faced the fortress and shouted: “Open the damn gate, you bastards!” “......?” The knights and soldiers on the walls froze. Had they... heard that correctly? One of the officers frowned and was about to scold him when— “HEY, YOU TRAITOROUS SONS OF BITCHES! STAND RIGHT THERE! I’M BRINGING THE FULL ARMY TO CUT OFF YOUR DAMN HEADS! DIE, YOU TREASONOUS SCUM!” “......?” The officer on the wall narrowed his eyes. Now that he thought about it... this situation was strange. A noble arriving unannounced at the marquis’s stronghold? There was no way a noble would be this brazenly disrespectful unless something was very wrong. And in wartime, there was only one thing to do with suspicious intruders. “All units! Prepare for combat!” Though the fortress only had 2,000 defenders, they outnumbered the intruders 4 to 1. Bows were raised, ready to fire at any moment. Ghislain patted Count Valesant on the shoulder. “Let’s work well together from now on.” “...L-let’s...” “Alright! Keep the count alive! He’s one of us now!” The mercenaries quickly surrounded Valesant, holding up large shields to protect him. Meanwhile, Ghislain’s eyes glowed red. Now, it was time. Time to break through the gates— —and capture Marquis Falkenheim. “Let’s get started.” BOOOOOM! Ghislain’s body soared straight toward the fortress walls.