Chapter 84
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Pashtek Hill Ambush Operation (8)
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The knight who had been charging at me to kill me collapsed without even getting a chance to exchange blows. I could see the soldiers under Baron Eclair freeze up at the sight.
They were the kind of guys who would've died after a single swing of my sword even if they'd come at me properly...
'Hit 'em hard while they're rattled. That's the easy way.'
Just like how it's easier to shatter ice once it's already cracked than to break unblemished ice.
I curled my lips into a grateful smirk.
"Thanks, senior."
Instead of swinging my sword at the stunned foes, I used the weight and solidity of my armor to slam into them hard.
A man weighing over 100kg barreling in at dozens of kilometers per hour...
The unlucky bastard who took a direct hit from me flew off like he'd been struck by a galloping horse.
"Argh, shit!"
As he went sailing through the air yelling that, the guys behind him hesitated, unsure whether to aim their weapons or turn tail.
"Shit? What do we do?"
"Lower your spears!"
"He's friendly fire!"
It was kinda funny seeing these tough guys acting like women panicking over a ticking time bomb.
"Idiots."
The guy I'd rammed kept flying until he crashed into his own comrades.
They naturally toppled over in a heap like dominoes.
For a split second, I debated whether to finish them all off or leave them be.
Normally, I'd have lopped off every last head for that extra coin from the guild, but my mission right now was to capture the baron alive.
So what I needed to do was dead simple.
'Grab that bastard before his vanguard can shake off the shock and regroup.'
And besides, at my back...
"Martin, you dog! Only fast when it suits you!"
"Kill all the guys he left behind!"
"Catch up to him no matter what! We can't let him get isolated!"
...my trusty White Beard Mercenary Corps comrades were following close. Better to leave the downed enemies to them.
Even if I could handle it solo, trying to hog everything invites bad luck and makes you miss the real priorities.
'I'll handle what they can't, and leave what I can't to them.'
How simple and beautiful is that division of labor?
Decision made—like the saying "follow your heart to the market day"—I sprinted full tilt toward the baron in the center.
"Baron Eclair! Surrender nice and easy, and I promise we won't make it hurt!"
The baron didn't reply.
Instead, starting with what looked like his regular troops and a knight, his men came swarming, weapons raised to surround me.
"He's tough! Overwhelm him with numbers!"
Seeing a guy who looked like a knight throw away his pride and say that... looked like our baron was starting to get scared?
No way our honorable knights, who live and die by honor, would stoop to such cowardice otherwise.
Which meant their actions only got more desperate and sneaky—and that put me in a great mood.
Of course, if their tricks actually screwed me over, I'd hate it...
The knight barked his order, and his regulars and mercenaries echoed it back.
"Overwhelm with numbers!"
"Surround and pound him!"
"Nailing one Expert means we're rich!"
Chanting their orders, they moved with surprising discipline.
"Don't bother with a sloppy encirclement. It won't do shit anyway."
I channeled aura into my sword and focused every nerve.
'Gotta punch through in one go. Hesitate here, and I'm a rat in a jar.'
The knight gave the command.
"Thrust! Swing!"
With that, they raised maces and hammers overhead to smash down on me, while countless spear tips aimed for my throat and vitals.
Couldn't dodge recklessly with my White Beard boys at my back.
No room to advance or retreat.
Just standing there would get me killed...
"You think I'd die if I were you?"
Instead of dodging, I swung my aura-charged sword in a crescent arc.
Spearheads and shafts went flying in a shower where my blade passed.
"Shit!"
"Don't panic!"
Barking all they wanted wouldn't change their fate.
But hey, this merciful Martin would send them off quick and painless.
I dropped low in an instant, evading the mace and hammer blows.
A heavy whoosh cut the air above my head.
'One hit from that, and I'd have a broken bone for sure.'
On a battlefield, a fracture means immobility, which means a gruesome death—no other outcome.
Just thinking about it sent cold sweat down my spine.
Of course, since I didn't die, I could laugh it off.
"My turn now?"
Smirking, I took a step, spun on the spot, and slashed.
The necks, heads, and torsos of the weaponless fools in front of me split open.
That's when the knight called over a comrade, and they came at me with aura blades.
"You bastard!"
The gap between a regular aura knight and an Expert is vast—yet these small fries kept blocking my path.
I parried their strikes with a swing.
"Not bad, huh?"
"We'll kill you and reach Expert ourselves!"
"We'll? You cowards."
Knights ganging up two-on-one because they're lacking?
Sheesh... Baron Eclair sure trained his knights and soldiers well.
If I end up as a standing mercenary with Montmartre or those snail bastards, I gotta serve under this guy.
Nah, he'll be my POW soon, nursing a grudge...
Sigh. If only I'd fought under him instead of that scrapheap Pappenheim...
Oh well. Time to take these punks' heads with full force.
"You're barely a snack, you lot."
With that, I poured aura into my upper body—especially my arms—and repelled both attacks.
I set my sword down briefly and drew a dagger.
"One down first."
I plunged the dagger hard into the nearest knight's throat.
He crumpled, blood gushing from his mouth and neck...
"You filthy dog!"
The other swung at me, but grief made his form sloppy as hell.
I sidestepped the straightforward slash by a paper's width, then stabbed deep into his armpit.
"You evil..."
To spare him more pain, I slit his throat with the dagger.
I snatched up my two-handed sword from the ground, lifted my head, and looked ahead.
The baron's flag, which had seemed distant moments ago, was now right in front of me.
He'd spotted me too—he drew his sword and commanded.
"Kill that mercenary knight!"
Mercenary knight. Spot-on description of my current gig.
Other nobles just called me a lowly merc, but this guy's got his head on straight.
"Kill him! At least kill him!"
"Avenger for our captain!"
"Golden Barley Mercenaries ain't pushovers!"
Dozens more rushed to grab me, but my White Beard crew arrived in the nick of time.
With that, fierce close-quarters combat erupted between our forces.
And my job got crystal clear.
'Baron, you're mine.'
"Baron Eclair! Stand still right there!"
I hurled myself at him, resolve burning to capture him myself.
Mid-charge, what looked like his guards popped up, weapons ready to block me—but them?
"Pathetic, you weak-ass rookies!"
I kicked some flying, beheaded others with my sword, closing in on the baron.
He must've realized he couldn't hide anymore—he drew his blade and charged me.
'Rampaging makes capture a pain.'
"Die, you merc scum!"
Eclair slashed at me.
Born to a baron family and trained hard, judging by the aura trail his sword left.
"You handle a blade decently, huh."
"You bastard!"
He swung repeatedly, but I dodged just right, probing for openings.
Couldn't exploit one and kill him, though...
'Gotta control my strength.'
After several clashes, our swords met.
'Now.'
I drove my right foot hard into his chest.
"Guh!"
Unfamiliar with dirty tricks, his stance crumbled.
I flung him to the ground with just enough force not to kill.
"Don't move if you wanna live."
I pressed the dagger to his throat.
"......I surrender."
Not the count himself, but forcing the count's vanguard commander—who'd sallied to secure his retreat—to surrender was huge.
It meant the count's last card was sealed off.
"White Beard Mercenary Corps Senior Squad Leader Martin Meyer has captured Baron Eclair, vassal to Count Rezume!"
And soon after, word spread far and wide—Count Rezume had surrendered.
"Two thousand beat five thousand..."
With victory secured, we cleaned up the battlefield and headed to our next objective, Marseille Castle...
...where we got a short rest upon arrival.