Glimpse of Eternity [A Reincarnation Isekai Fantasy]

Everything after Mira showed him Fawks was a bit of a blur for Reivan, but it all more or less ended with them arriving at the Tower.

Apparently, the others were safe and only Senior Crag died. Nobody else had gotten attacked, so all the seniors and his squadmates were safely back at the hotel by the time Reivan and Mira returned. Despite that, the seniors were all quite unhappy about Crag's death — and by unhappy, he meant absolutely livid. Understandably so. Not unhappy at their juniors, of course. Their ire was pointed at those who wrought the tragedy. They were actually quite concerned with Reivan and Mira’s mental states, offering platitudes that they were faultless and they responded very well to the situation.

The rest of the first years were somewhat shaken that it could just have easily been them under attack though. And despite the time they had spent with Senior Crag being short, the senior's sudden death brought them face to face with the reality that their profession was incredibly dangerous. Reivan mused that they had probably known that in theory, but only now were they truly seeing it.

Alini, though she tried to conceal it, was visibly disheartened while pretending to be fine. Kantor was pensive all the while. Inaria was, well, reading a tome as usual, but seemed terribly unfocused. And even Aldimir’s usual brand of idiocy and inappropriacy was absent, the young man choosing to stay mostly silent. As such, nobody was in the mood to fool around in Lageton any longer. Mira, though she probably did want to roam around somewhat, sanctioned the return as captain. The whole trip back, she had tried to raise the mood by acting like a moron. Again. But the somewhat gloomy atmosphere hanging over the squad throughout their trip back to Vel Ayala remained even after they were back in the safety of the Tower.

Reivan, on the other hand, didn't really feel anything. Which was slightly terrifying to him, but he reasoned that his interaction with the fallen battlmage amounted to a little more than an hour at most. Still, even if he was mostly indifferent, he wasn't dumb enough to act like it was. Obviously, he joined in on the somber mood. Which was thankfully not that hard at all because all he really had to do was shut up and stare off into the distance.

Anyway, as Mira had previously mentioned, she got called away upon their arrival at the Tower. Not for too long, though, as she returned shortly after and gave each of them three bottles of Spirit Dew each — which was, apparently, the first time Mira had ever gotten more than one bottle for a mission. The Tower ahd only ever given her one, no matter how difficult the mission itself was.

First years ahd it rough, it seems. Though he supposed they also wouldn't need that much spirit dew to improve.

“Oh, right.” She gave her forehead a light slap before turning to Reivan. “I confirmed it with an Elder, but apparently, there are no bad side effects to drinking more than one. It's actually more efficient. And the time your spirit beast naps afterward is the same as if it had only drunk one. Oh! But there’s a limit of three. If you drink more than that at once, it’ll lose its effect. You have to wait until the stuff’s digested before drinking more.”

As it turned out, Reivan and the others had been given more than one vial of the precious resource as a kind of consolation for the whole affair. The Tower, through their captain, expressed apologies for assigning them to a mission that was, unexpectedly, far above their station. They didn't have to, but everybody in the squad appreciated the gesture.

Reivan, on the other hand, thought that wasn’t the complete story. In some corner of his mind, he saw the act as a subtle way to funnel resources into Mira’s spirit beast, fattening it up so it could be eaten eventually.

That said, he’d checked Fawks’ ability and it had apparently not eaten another Spirit King Seed yet. So even Reivan’s assumptions were up in the air. For all he knew, the Tower could have a mortal seed ready to devour Mira’s Fawks at any time.

‘No, they wouldn’t let her last for an entire year if that was the case.’

It was, Reivan mused, the biggest piece of circumstantial evidence he had of Mira’s importance to the Tower. There might not be any more seeds at the moment, so Mira was the only option. But more often than not, they had probably deemed her as the seed they wanted to raise to the Ascendant realm.

And when Fawks Ascended, some other Ascendant was going to eat her. Probably. Again, all hypotheses.

Once the Mystery Ascendant got to eat enough seeds to Transcend, Arkhan would be in a superior position against all the other nations in Sentorale.

‘God forbid the Sage King isn’t one seed away from becoming something more. We’d be all sorts of fucked then.’

Reivan shivered at the thought. No amount of mortals could combat an Ascendant. and no amount of Ascendants could trump a Transcendent.

By that pattern, no number of Transcendents could win against… whatever it was that lay above. It wasn’t the Archon realm, he was sure. There was something else in between Transcendent and Archon, and it impressed upon him even more how powerful the being who helped him reincarnate was, especially since the very planar laws themself worked to restrain them.

Then again, he didn't think the Tower would wait that long. After all, for someone with the special ability to advance a realm, they didn't need to eat only one seed. They needed more. And so, it was terribly inefficient for the Tower to wait until they gave birth to something above a Transcendent. If it were up to him, he'd try to get two Transcendents as fast as possible, dominate the continent to get rid of any threats, and then try to advance someone beyond the realm of Transcendence.

In any case, something truly had to be done about this. The Tower couldn’t be allowed to do what it wanted, whatever the hell that turned out to be.

Perhaps an immediate declaration of war was in order. Maybe his brother would even leak the information to Argonia so they could crush Arkhan together. The Tower and its people would need to be uprooted, but Aizen would not be remiss to hand over the republic’s lands to the empire afterward.

‘If Argonia takes over Arkhan… it’ll probably look to conquer Pentagoria next.’

Unironically, taking out the small continent to Sentorale’s southwest was an easier endeavor than taking on Aizen, a kingdom that had firmly entrenched itself upon its lands for eons. Especially since the place didn’t have any Transcendents waiting at the heart of its lands, unlike the other two nations.

The expansionist nature of the empire would push it toward easier prey first. That would give Aizen enough time to make preparations. Also, Dame Mordred’s presence back in Sentorale meant that diplomacy with the greenskins of the Sutherim Wastes was established. Only time would tell if an alliance would be struck.

From what information he knew of the orcs, they were a race of sub-intelligent humanoids that saw battle as their purpose, and they had fierce respect for the strong. That was why one of the strongest knights was sent as a diplomat of sorts. She had just gone around and punched as many strong orcs as she could in the face, simultaneously garnering respect, admiration, and friends with fist-shaped bruises on their mugs.

They were potentially staunch allies, though it would likely cause quite a lot of collateral damage. Raiding, pillaging, and eating the weak of their foes to nourish the strength of their allies was an aspect of their culture that an alliance would not change. It was their way. And it had always been their way.

If Aizen allowed them into Sentorale, only their people would be safe. There would be no neighbors left unless the green horde was wiped out. They even had some kind of king too. A Transcendent. If that came over for some fun, Reivan wasn’t quite sure if it would stop with just their enemies.

Aizen might have to deal with an orc king after their neighbors were in ruins. They had measures and a lot of data on the latter, but orcs? The kingdom knew very little and had practically no countermeasures for them specifically.

Which, obviously, was not good if the greenskins ever turned coats.

‘God, this is getting so fucking big…’

Reivan slumped into his bed and massaged the bridge of his nose, basking in the comfort of his not-very-private quarters. His head hurt from the scale of his thoughts and considerations. This was why he truly disliked the notion of being sitting on the throne, celebrating the fact that he’d been born as the younger brother.

No doubt Roland would have a seizure. He was, after all, the man who had to actually make the decisions, not just think about them.

Sen broke him out of his thoughts by lightly tapping him on the feet. It hurt, if he was being honest. She may not have meant to do so, but she’d used a bit too much force. He would forgive her, in the end. Which wasn't very hard since she was cute.

“What is it?” Reivan asked groggily, though he already knew the answer.

As expected, she pointed her light-tipped tail at the three vials he’d left to rest right beside him on the bed, an eager glint in her eyes. She couldn't have possibly understood what any other human said, so Mira’s explanation on what it did was irrelevant to her. But it seemed she had an instinctive idea that whatever was inside the vial was a good thing.

And she also instinctively understood that she couldn’t drink it directly, or so it seemed. Spirit beasts were all kinds of weird so he wouldn't put it past them to have such a nifty function. Which wasn’t something new, so he simply shrugged.

“Form a permanent bond with me and I’ll drink it,” Reivan grinned, testily seeing how the mini white panther would react. It was insincere, and he planned to drink the three bottles anyway no matter her answer.

As expected, Sen looked somewhat hesitant. But that hesitance soon gave way to irritation. She bared her teeth and growled at him, though it caused him no fear.

“Eh. Well. You can’t blame me for trying.” Reivan chuckled and sat up, taking one of the vials and uncorking it. He’d already checked each one to make sure they were the same potion Mira had shown him earlier, not some kind of supernatural laxative or something.

'Bottom's up.'

He uncorked the vial and drank the entire potion in one gulp. Not a very big gulp, mind. Barely a mouthful, really. But it surprisingly didn’t taste like anything at all.

It wasn’t similar to water, no. But it also didn’t have a taste.

‘Strange.’

Reivan licked his lips and pushed up his glasses, trying to see if he could feel any changes. It took a moment, but he did feel something like mana bubbling up from inside his stomach and heading off… somewhere else. His soul, probably. Or wherever it was that strange mana-like energy went.

Sen was restlessly jumping up and down the bed, sending mental urgings through their connection. She was, quite apparently, a very impatient kitten. Or panther. He had half a mind to tell her to behave before he drank the other two vials, just to build discipline.

But she was being adorable. And he didn’t want to punish her for doing something he mildly enjoyed watching. As such, he let it go with the realization that he would probably be a very bad father who spoiled his kids a little too much.

The other two potions went down the hatch too and he laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he pondered on the bubbly feeling in his tummy. Maybe this was how being impregnated felt, except for the part where something hard and long — or maybe not, size shouldn't matter — rammed one of his holes. He felt quite thankful that part was left out, if that was the case.

Soon, the bubbling stopped and whatever the energy drinking the potion gave him, it had settled calmly in his soul. It also felt like it had filled up a container of some kind, and even if he drank more potions, it would just go to waste.

‘As expected, I can’t reproduce it yet…’

Sadly, even after having drunk three vials, it wasn’t enough for [Drug Memorization] to... well, memorize the drug, allowing him to reproduce its effect, modify it, or make medicine out of it by using his body fluids. It seemed he would have to procure more, in some way.

They would apparently be given some after every mission, but he knew not how many vials it would take to fully memorize the potion. And hence, he knew not how many missions he would have to sit through to finally get what he wanted.

The sooner he memorized the drug, the sooner he could coax the other spirit beasts locked in the other orbs in Zouros’ stomach. Speaking of the giant snake, it seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the Spirit Dew, further reinforcing his scaly friend’s difference from spirit beasts. Which was mildly disappointing because he wanted to use spirit dew to power up Zouros, who had stopped growing since reaching 1000 Might.

‘I remember Mira saying I could trade with the others…’

Money was something he had a lot of as Reivan Aizenwald. Not so much as Clover though. There was a need to be more creative here.

The senior battlemages, who likely had more spirit dew to trade away, most likely didn’t need money that much. On the other hand, the newer recruits could be tempted with riches but also had more need of the spirit dew, as the potion was apparently a lot more effective for weaker spirit beasts.

Basically, the two potential clients had to be approached in very different ways.

‘Hm. Maybe Elsa can help out… Though, I don’t really want to put her in danger.’

The potion had been around for a very long time, yet, the kingdom had never heard of the thing. So it was, quite obviously, a very well-kept secret. Even defectors must not have revealed it after leaving the Tower’s influence for fear of earning intense retaliation.

If he had Elsa sniff around to procure the potion, it would then be revealed to the person she approached that a mere businesswoman knew of state secrets that she shouldn’t have ever known. Elsa wasn’t dumb, of course, and would use a long train of intermediaries. But the nature of what she was trading for required plenty of negotiation and would compel her to give up valuables that could be traced back to her, endangering her position. There would always be a trail, and for battlemages, who could scry the literal past, it was even more difficult to hide.

Hence, he absolutely couldn't have Elsa do this for him. Or Ouroboros, sadly. They were very big and very well-trained hunting dogs, but he couldn’t send them into a tiger's den, knowing the tigers would chase them to the ends of the world.

The Tower was not to be trifled with by such a paltry force of mortals.

‘Hm… Then I’ll have to ask through official channels.’

Diplomacy, basically. Sure, the Tower would be flabbergasted as to how Aizen found out. But the kingdom didn’t need to answer. And even if Arkhan tried to force the issue, it wouldn’t have mattered, as the kingdom was strong enough to simply say no.

They were, after all, still potential enemies. Aizen could never be blamed for the act of sniffing around to see if they could find any kernels of information.

‘Which makes it even more imperative that I make another report.’

Reivan was about to stand up when Sen smacked him in the face, causing him to wince and cradle his cheek. It was, to his relief, not as strong as her earlier prods, but it still surprised him. “What the hell! Why’d you hit me?”

Sen stomped her feet in frustration and hissed.

‘Oh. Right. Sorry, I forgot.’

He’d gotten lost in the mire of his own thoughts about the fate of the continent, so he’d inevitably forgotten to actually send her the spirit dew energy that had built up... wherever it was that the energy built up in. His soul, presumably. But he wasn't sure. Anyway, it was useless just staying there, so he had no reason to let it.

With practiced finesse, he controlled the energy like he would control mana and then funneled it through his connection like he did their thoughts.

Amusingly, Sen’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her body spasmed as she stiffened, eventually tipping over and resting on his bed. Her tail was straight as an arrow and her joints looked as if they’d locked. The glowing tip of her tail was shining brighter than ever before.

This only lasted for ten heartbeats, however, as she slumped and breathed easily. Her eyes were closed and her face slack, almost as if she was having the best dream of the world.

‘Jesus… It looks like she had the biggest nut of her life!’

Reivan’s nose crinkled. He had never wanted to know what a young white panther looked like when she had a really long orgasm. That was information he would have been perfectly fine never having to float around his head for the rest of his life — which, if things went well, would be very long.

A moment later, the sleeping panther turned into a white blur that was sucked into his orb. He hadn’t done that, so it must have been caused by the sleeping kitten or whatever state the potion put her in. His money was on the latter.

It was convenient too, since he planned to head out of the Tower for a few days, and a cat with the most severe case of post-nut clarity was not his idea of a good travel opinion.

Reivan changed into a fresh white shirt before heading out of his room. Nobody was there, fortunately. So he left a note saying he would be gone for a day or two to unwind. They were on break until all their spirit beasts woke up from their dew-induced sleep, and they could do with that break as they wished — though it was implied that they were to use that time refining their spell work.

Obviously, Reivan didn’t give as much of a shit about that as the monumental news he had. If the Tower still had an Ascendant following him, it was completely worth it to have the poor sap assassinated so he would be free to act for a few days.

As for the possibility of war, that was irrelevant, given how the news he bore would spark it anyway.

 

---

 

“Good day, Your Highness.”

Surprisingly, Reivan didn’t even need to get to the city where Valter should have been waiting for him. On the express train there, he suddenly found himself sitting right next to a young girl with black silk for hair and rubies for eyes, a doll-like innocence on her pretty face. Her skin was fair and white, with a smooth milky finish. Being seated did not help him gauge her well, but she looked to be about thirteen years old.

She was not, in fact, thirteen years old.

Reivan knew her from portraits and was aware of the vast list of accomplishments she garnered in Aizen’s service. He gulped and sent a glance at the young lady who was boldly wearing the knightly regalia of Aizen's knights, her chest riddled with medals and accolades that, ridiculously, didn’t fit her entire chest. Some of them had to be pinned over the others, creating the illusion of curves that didn’t exist.

“Dame Mordred," he said with a slight dip of his head. "Well met. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Indeed it is. Well met, Your Highness.” Mordred smiled impishly, her voice very much belonging to an adult despite her appearance. “You appear surprised.”

“That would not be a mistaken assumption.”

She covered her mouth and giggled. “You have questions and concerns. The kingdom has many. And finally, it seems like it is time you come back so all of those can be dealt with. Of course, only if that sits right with you, Your Highness.”

Reivan licked his lips in thought as he gave his surroundings a quick scan. “I have no observers?”

“Just a mortal one.” Mordred lazily waved somewhere behind them. “They will not be a problem.”

“Good…”

“I'm happy to see that this pleases you. As I’m sure you’ve been briefed, I have a gift

when it comes to these things. Please rest assured.”

“Yes, I’ve heard…” Reivan trailed off, feeling strangely uncomfortable at the notion that all his special abilities could be neutered with a touch. Temporarily though it might be. “Dame Mordred, why have you approached me so far away from the meeting point? Were you doing something around the vicinity?”

“It’s a secret… is what I would normally say. But I suppose a prince would have clearance.” One of the oldest knights in the order cleared her throat softly. “There has been some hubbub down south. So I was sniffing around the Tower to see if I could find anything and was debating on whether I should try to penetrate Vel Ayala. I was slowly inching toward it when I found you by coincidence. It's a good thing I've seen the real Clover Salwyn.”

“I see…”

“Yes. It was by my judgment that I decided accompanying you was a better use of my time than an enterprise that could get me killed for no gain. I can take you to the Embassy now, if you so wish.”

“What about the observer?”

“I can simply leave a corpse puppet behind. I have finished preparing it. A mortal will never know the difference.” Mordred smiled, the expression seeming horrifyingly innocent despite the woman’s history and what she had just said. “I’d dabble with his brain, but...”

Reivan shook his head, spine-tingling. “There’s no need for that. The puppet will do.”

“How merciful of you. I am in awe of your grace.”

“Can it… uhm, speak? The puppet, I mean.”

She nodded. “I have been studying the real Clover Salwyn and I have reason to believe that my puppet can replicate his actions completely. Just so long as no Ascendant takes too close of a look, it’ll blend in with everyone else.”

“That’s a relief.”

“It would, of course, have gone much smoother if you’d allowed me to make Clover Salwyn himself into the puppet. There would have been no need to put so much effort into fleshmolding and training it.

Again, Reivan shivered at the horrors uttered by a girl with such an innocent appearance. “I gave him my word… And though there were no bindings involved, I intend to honor it until I am forced otherwise.”

“And I respect your intentions.” Mordred giggled and reclined in her seat, crossing her legs. “You are intimidated by me, Your Highness.”

Reivan’s breath caught but he nodded. “That would not be a mistaken assessment.”

“I seem to have that effect on people. Though I never quite understood knew why.” She tilted her head. “It has, I may add, made finding a partner difficult. And I never did get married, in the end. Though, I suppose it cannot be helped when I have such a child-like physique in a nation that quickly gets rid of people with… disgusting preferences.”

Reivan laughed sheepishly. “You are very beautiful, Dame Mordred. And quite a capable woman as well. I’m sure you have a fated one out there somewhere.”

“Oh, truly…?”

“Of course.”

“Hm. What about you?”

Reivan didn’t get to process the question before Mordred slowly leaned her weight against his shoulder, her hand hovering over his own. Their flesh did not touch, and all she did was draw soft circles on the top of his hand with her pristinely maintained nail.

And loath as he was to admit, Reivan found electricity zap climb up his spine at the ticklish sensation.

“You know, Your Highness.” Mordred spoke softly, her sultry voice snaking into his ears. “I’ve never laid with a prince. Princesses, yes. Many times. But a prince? Never. It makes me quite curious.”

“I-Is that so…?” Reivan was torn between letting her continue or pulling his hand away, but he was wary of offending her in some way, even if she couldn’t possibly hurt him.

“Indeed. What say you, Your Highness? You’ll have to do away with your disguise, however. I prefer Aizenian features to your current one.”

“That’s…”

Reivan gulped, oddly exhilarated. He was finally starting to understand what Mira had mentioned about eyes and how they could be enormous points for attraction. Because his preferences were as far away from thirteen-year-old girl as possible, but found himself lost in Mordred's eyes longer than he cared to admit. To break himself out of her spell, he tried to remember Elsa's incredible body, how soft everything was, and how warm she felt in his arms. Of Helen, and her lithe muscles that had the grace of an apex predator.

“Well? Care to have a go?" Mordred leaned a little closer, forcefully pulling his mind back to the now, to the enchanting eyes that drew all his attention. "I am almost 400 years old. That’s a very long time to accumulate experience. I can show you pleasure you didn’t even know was possible.”

‘I think she’s talking about butt stuff… I don’t like butt stuff!’

That was usually what it was, when they said it was weird. That, or dressing up as animals or something that involved ropes. Either way, he wasn’t so inclined.

With that, Reivan was finally able to snap his gaze away, looking anywhere but at her face instead.

“I would not dare…” Reivan tried, very hard, to say it in a way that wouldn’t be too offensive. “And I am already spoken for.”

“A shame.” Mordred giggled and her hand retreated. “Do forgive me for being forward. I have found few pleasures in a long life, and this is merely one of them. Being stuck with orcs for the better half of a century has not been pleasant for me on that front. For very obvious reasons other than their general tendency to be absolutely hideous. I have understandably grown quite... pent up.”

Reivan could practically hear the unspoken complaint in her words. Right after finishing her duties in Sutherim, she was then sent off to Arkhan. She had probably built up quite a lot of vacation time, but the fact that she was here meant that she had loyally chosen to postpone it in favor of fulfilling her duties.

Knights were loyal, and would do anything ordered of them, but they certainly weren’t inclined to like those orders completely.

“My apologies for the trouble, Dame Mordred.” Reivan dipped his head a little, with all the sincerity he could muster. “And thank you for your service.”

“Goodness, don’t take my complaints so seriously, Your Highness.” Mordred laughed sheepishly, her previous demeanor changing to a more… natural one. Embarrassment was clear in her expression. And for a moment, she seemed every bit the young girl she appeared to be. “You’re too serious. It makes me feel guilty about teasing you.”

“I’d rather you not tease me at all.”

“Ah, well.” She shrugged, grinning at him. “It is in my nature. I do hope that I have eased your nerves, somewhat, Your Highness. I am, very much so, a loyal hound of the crown. I mean you no harm.”

Reivan chuckled sheepishly. “One does not need to mean harm to be intimidating. Take Sir Donovan, for example…”

“Ah.” Mordred’s face fell. “I don’t like talking about that person, Your Highness.”

“Acknowledged.”

Mordred nodded in thanks and snapped her fingers. In front of them, a naked body dropped out of thin air. It stood, though shakily, twitching and spasming all the while. But still, it tried.

Eventually, the puppet that appeared just like Clover Salwyn looked at Reivan and spoke with the exact same voice he'd been using.

“What is my purpose?”