Shall We Give Them a Chance? (1)
No one could say a word. They had never witnessed such an incredible spell in their lives.
Even if they had met a mage greater than Ghislain, they would never have seen magic like this. This was a spell unlike anything the world had ever known.
As Ghislain gently moved his staff again, the fireballs slowly spread out, shifting in the air.
Each of them positioned itself directly above the heads of the Ironclad Lion Mercenaries.
"Damn it..."
The Ironclad Lion Mercenaries were flustered. It was only natural—they had blazing fireballs hovering over their heads.
If they moved even a little, it felt as if those fireballs would immediately fall. Unable to act, they began glancing at one another anxiously.
Ghislain smiled slyly and spoke.
"What do you think? Even with our smaller numbers, it looks like we can still put up a fight, doesn't it?"
Tyrann clenched his teeth, suppressing his frustration. He had heard that Ghislain had never used magic before. That was why he was convinced the man wasn't a mage.
And yet, he had now displayed such overwhelming magic.
"Were you really a mage all along?"
"I'm telling you, yes. Why doesn't anyone believe it until they see it for themselves?"
Ghislain clicked his tongue. What a world, so lacking in faith.
Tyrann's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. A warrior like Zark wouldn't have mistaken whether or not someone used magic.
And yet, Zark had confidently stated that the vice-captain of the Yulian Mercenary Corps was not a mage. That meant this man was formidable enough to take down a hundred mercenaries even without magic.
'A mistake. I should have struck immediately.'
When fighting a mage, one must never allow distance or give them time to cast. Especially against a high-circle mage.
A 5th-circle mage, even just a 4th-circle one, could unleash devastation with a proper spell. A 4th-circle mage could even turn the tide of war.
Yet, instead of attacking immediately, they stood there, watching like fools.
'Can we still win?'
Tyrann's confidence in victory remained unshaken. But in this situation, the damage would be far worse than expected.
'Even if the three of them were as skilled as Zark described, this wouldn't be easy…'
Now, magic has been added to the equation. There was a real chance they could be wiped out.
He didn't even consider the Yulian mercenaries who were frozen in fear. Just accounting for those three fighters alone meant heavy losses.
'Even if we win, it won't be a victory.'
Suffering such casualties before the upcoming territorial war would surely lead Count Crest to abandon them.
'I have to kill that mage immediately.'
Tyrann gathered his mana and measured the distance to Ghislain. He was more focused than ever.
'No mistakes.'
If he failed to kill Ghislain in one strike, those terrifying fireballs would rain down instantly.
Some of his men might survive or dodge, but at least half would suffer severe damage. That was unacceptable.
Crack…
Tyrann's feet began digging into the ground as he coiled his strength, preparing to lunge forward and cut Ghislain down.
Just then, the heavy silence was broken by an unexpected shout.
"Whoaaa! Did you see that? That's the kind of mage my hyung is! I, the great Osval, will settle things with the Ironclad Lions today!"
Osval stepped forward dramatically, blocking Ghislain. He was attempting to shield the mage in his own way.
Of course, it wasn't out of pure bravery.
'Hehe hehe. Now that they've seen this, they won't act recklessly. Damn, this is insane. I never imagined he was this powerful of a mage. We've already won, it's over.'
Ghislain clicked his tongue as he watched Osval's back.
'Ignorance really is bliss.'
Right now, Tyrann was concentrating all his power. If he unleashed that force, Osval would be cleaved in half instantly.
But Osval had no ability to recognize that. If he did, he would have stayed put in the corner.
However, this produced an unexpected effect.
"You bastard..."
Tyrann gritted his teeth. With a brute like Osval blocking the way, taking out the mage wouldn't be easy.
If Zark's assessment was correct, even if he cut down Osval in an instant, the mage would use that opportunity to escape.
While Tyrann hesitated, an even more shocking development unfolded.
"Whoaaaa! Our vice-captain is the best!"
"Hey, you bastards! Who do you think you are, barging into our town like this?!"
"Never look down on the Yulian Mercenary Corps again!"
The other mercenaries, now completely riled up, raised their weapons and roared.
They were utterly thrilled.
Hundreds of fireballs hovered over their enemies. It felt like they had suddenly gained hundreds of allies.
That made them believe they actually had a chance.
Mercenaries tend to be simple-minded. Those who overthink don't last long in this business.
Their reaction wasn't surprising, but for the Ironclad Lions, it was bewildering.
"These bastards dare...?"
"They're seriously standing up to us just because of one mage…?"
"These arrogant wretches…"
They clenched their jaws but were at a loss for what to do.
They had never experienced anything like this. They had always overwhelmed their enemies, ruling over the region's mercenaries with fear.
Never had they imagined they would be intimidated by a newly formed mercenary group.
Tyrann was now sweating.
'What do I do…?'
He didn't know the exact power of this spell, but he couldn't deny that it was incredible. Had he known they possessed such magic, he would have approached the battle differently.
A lack of information was an unforgivable sin for mercenaries.
Survival depended on accurately assessing the dangers of a mission.
The Ironclad Lions had underestimated their enemy and made a grave mistake. A mistake that was also Tyrann's.
'Do we fight or retreat?'
If they fought, the Ironclad Lions would be finished. Now that they had allowed the mage to cast, even if they won, they would be forced to disband.
Even retreating would deal a heavy blow. It would mean breaking the principles Tyrann had upheld.
His men would lose morale, and more importantly, his reputation would suffer.
Retreating was the logical choice to avoid complete annihilation, but Tyrann's pride wouldn't allow it.
And everyone present could sense his indecision.
Osval was the first to exploit it.
"Hey, what are you waiting for?! Come at me! Are you scared of the great Osval?!"
"Yeah! Who the hell do you think you are, barging in uninvited, you dishonorable bastards?!"
"Thought you were the strongest around here? Looks like you're not so tough after all!"
Realizing the shift in momentum, the mercenaries fully committed to their side.
Following their natural instincts, they jeered and provoked their opponents—an age-old mercenary tradition before battle.
Crunch.
Tyrann ground his teeth hard. He knew this was nothing but provocation, yet resisting was difficult.
These men, who wouldn't have dared to meet his gaze before, were now swaggering and taunting him.
He wanted nothing more than to slaughter them all, but he couldn't. That was what infuriated him the most.
Then, Ghislain peeked out from behind Osval and smirked.
"You seem deep in thought. Why? Feeling troubled? If you fight, you'll lose everything, but if you back down, your pride takes a hit, huh?"
"You bastard…"
What a loathsome thing to say.
How could he pinpoint exactly what was eating away at him and rub salt in the wound?
It was as if this wasn't his first time in this world—like he had spent decades in this brutal mercenary life.
Ghislain grinned and suddenly turned his head.
"Captain, what should we do?"
Yulian, his face flushed, stepped forward and whispered something to Ghislain.
Ghislain nodded several times.
"Oh, really? Should we? Should we give them a chance?"
After mumbling to himself, Ghislain looked at Tyrann and declared:
"You're lucky."
"What?"
"Our captain has decided to give you one more chance."
"......"
Tyrann glared. Who did they think they were, talking about giving him a chance?
However, he decided to hold back and listen to what they had to say.
Ghislain spoke again with a solemn expression.
"I mean, I don't care if we fight and all my comrades die, but our captain thinks differently. He doesn't want any unnecessary casualties. He says our mercenaries are valuable comrades we'll be fighting alongside for a long time."
At those words, the Yulian Mercenary Corps members looked at Yulian with faintly touched expressions.
Yulian, however, continued staring off into the distance, feigning ignorance.
Tyrann growled in response.
"So what? Are you saying you'll fight or not?"
If the other side requested a truce, he planned to accept it begrudgingly. That way, he could minimize losses and avoid complete humiliation.
However, the method Ghislain proposed was something Tyrann hadn't anticipated.
"A mercenary who backs down from a provocation isn't a real mercenary. Our captain suggests settling this with a one-on-one duel between you and him."
Tyrann's expression went blank. The other mercenaries reacted the same way.
Tyrann was known as the strongest mercenary in the region. Why would anyone challenge him to a one-on-one fight?
It was an utterly foolish decision.
Even Osval was shocked.
"What the hell, captain! Why would you do that? We can win just fine as we are! That guy is insanely strong! Why fight him personally?"
Yulian remained silent.
In truth, this wasn't his decision. Ghislain had already predicted this situation and prepared accordingly.
Ghislain had initially pushed Yulian to deliver the challenge himself, but when he refused, he simply acted as though he was relaying his words.
Regardless of the hidden circumstances, for Tyrann, it was an appealing proposal.
His expression brightened as he asked again,
"Are you serious? You want to settle this with a one-on-one duel against me?"
"That's right. To minimize losses, the captains will fight. The loser will…"
"The loser will what?"
"They will disband their mercenary group and join the victorious side. And, of course, they'll have to follow orders obediently. What do you say? If you're scared, you can back out."
"Hehe…"
Tyrann covered his forehead and chuckled.
They had some skill, but they were still just naïve rookies. Getting a bit of an upper hand had made them arrogant.
This was the best possible scenario for him.
In a one-on-one fight, there was no way he could lose.
He had the chance to secure both honor and a practical advantage.
"Fine. I accept. But I have one additional condition."
"What is it?"
"If I win, you will kneel before me, apologize, and swear loyalty upon joining my ranks. Understood?"
"My knees aren't in the best condition, but… I guess I can do that. But you'll have to do the same if you lose."
"You arrogant bastard… We'll see if you can still talk like that after the fight."
Boom!
Tyrann stepped forward, unleashing a powerful aura.
He had heard that this Yulian was on the level of a high-level knight, and that his techniques were so advanced that even Zark couldn't fully comprehend them.
A formidable opponent, no doubt.
But Tyrann wasn't worried. He had already stepped into the realm of high-level warriors.
It might seem like just a single rank difference, but in reality, the gap was massive.
For one, his mana reserves far surpassed that of an average knight.
The more mana one had, the stronger and faster they could move. No matter how skilled his opponent was, overcoming that disparity wouldn't be easy.
And it wasn't as if his swordsmanship was lacking. His skills, honed through countless battles, were brutal and unpredictable.
In terms of experience, technique, and mastery, he was superior. It would be absurd if he didn't win.
As Tyrann stepped forward with full confidence, Ghislain suddenly spoke up again.
"Wait, wait."
"What now?!"
Tyrann snapped, glaring at Ghislain. The man had a knack for breaking the momentum.
Grinning ear to ear, Ghislain continued.
"This fight is a bit too boring, don't you think? How about we spice it up with a different format?"
"A different format?"
"Yeah. In my hometown(?), mercenaries used to settle disputes with something called 'Moriana's Acknowledgment.' We should try that. The rules are simple…"
Ghislain proceeded to explain the so-called 'Moriana's Acknowledgment'—a style of duel where both fighters' arms were tied, and they were only allowed to use a single dagger while staying within a small circle.
As he spoke, the mercenaries' expressions changed rapidly.
'Wait… no mana, with arms tied, and only a dagger? In a confined space? One wrong move and we're dead!'
'That's insane… Isn't that even more dangerous?'
'Even if you win, if you don't get treated quickly, you could die from blood loss. By the time you can use mana, it might be too late.'
'That's just a brutal brawl at that point… But it does sound entertaining…'
'Where the hell is this guy from, coming up with such a savage duel? Who is he?'
The mercenaries of this era had never heard of 'Moriana's Acknowledgment.' It was a completely foreign concept.
Ghislain, having spent two years studying this world, was well aware that this practice did not yet exist.
But he wasn't concerned.
'It's going to exist in the future anyway. Who cares if I introduce it a little early?'
And so, once again, Ghislain spread 'new knowledge' and 'cultural customs' into the world.
Meanwhile, Tyrann—the very person about to fight—had begun sweating nervously.
This absurd duel format had just completely thrown him off.
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