The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

The Arkdieu system notifications hung in Alex's awareness with crystalline clarity. Countess Valerian—the mysterious noblewoman in midnight blue—was Lust's Apostle. The third vessel they had encountered in a gathering ostensibly centered on mere swordmaster recognition.

Countess Valerian's lips curved into a smile that conveyed amusement without warmth. Her elegant features took on a predatory quality as her gaze moved between the cousins.

"How fascinating," she said, her voice cultured and melodious. "Now it all makes sense. Two cousins achieving swordmaster status at such young ages. Fourteen and twelve—unprecedented in continental history." Her eyes gleamed with knowing amusement. "How... remarkable."

Klaus's crystalline eyes widened fractionally—the first genuine surprise he had displayed since his transformation.

This... face.

Something shifted within his consciousness. Pain lanced through his mind as fragmented images flickered at the edges of his awareness. A flash of crimson. The sound of steel meeting steel. Smoke rising from burning cities. The sensation of blood on his hands—but whose blood? When? The memories remained frustratingly incomplete, like trying to grasp water with clenched fists.

He suppressed the pain immediately, his expression returning to perfect composure within heartbeats. To any observer, he appeared unchanged, though the temperature around him had dropped a degree.

The Countess turned her attention to Klaus, studying him with newfound interest. "The paralyzing effect of your aura seems to have reduced extensively, according to the reports I received."

Alex felt a chill that had nothing to do with Klaus's presence. The casual mention of reports revealed extensive intelligence gathering within Lionhart family affairs. She wasn't merely an interested observer but someone with deep informational networks penetrating their most private matters.

"I wonder," she continued thoughtfully, midnight eyes never leaving Klaus's face, "what the Icarus cult was truly trying to achieve."

Alex's jaw tightened, ice-blue irises reflecting candlelight with dangerous intensity. "You seem quite interested in our family affairs, Countess."

The Countess turned toward Alex, her midnight gaze shifting to something darker, more predatory. Around them, the ambient sounds of the banquet seemed to fade, as though Klaus's suppressing aura had created a pocket of privacy amid the crowded chamber.

Klaus remained outwardly composed despite whatever internal struggle was occurring. His crystalline eyes showed no emotion, yet Alex sensed something profound happening beneath that perfect stillness.

"Oh, you've already completed communion with your Arkdieu," she observed, studying Alex with predatory delight. "How bold! Or perhaps... how impatient of you, my cute little cub."

Without warning, she reached out and caressed Alex's cheek with fingertips that felt unnaturally cold against his skin. The intimate gesture was deliberate, calculated to provoke. Gasps of shock rippled through nearby nobles as scandalized whispers began spreading across the diplomatic gathering.

Pride's golden energy exploded within Alex, rage burning through their shared consciousness like molten fire. The entity's fury at being dismissed so casually threatened to shatter every careful control Alex had maintained. His muscles tensed, golden light flickering briefly beneath his skin.

"Ooh," the Countess purred, her hand still resting against his face as she met his eyes with dominating intensity. "Will you really blow your perfect cover just for this?"

Alex could sense the danger radiating from her. Whatever power she wielded exceeded his current capabilities by a significant margin. The realization was both humbling and terrifying. He breathed slowly, forcing Pride's golden energy back under control through sheer will, his entire body trembling with the effort of containment.

"Good boy!" she exclaimed with mock approval, patting his cheek before withdrawing her hand.

Throughout the banquet hall, conversations had ceased as nobles strained to witness this unprecedented interaction. The Beast Emperor leaned forward in his seat, golden eyes tracking every movement with predatory focus. Even the Patriarch had turned his attention toward them, frost patterns spreading unconsciously beneath his feet.

"To think I would meet two other Apostles here," she mused, midnight eyes gleaming with genuine fascination. "How fascinating. That makes five of us currently present in Xyros." Her smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed slightly too sharp. "The veil might really break at this rate."

The temperature surrounding Klaus dropped dramatically. Frost spread across nearby glassware with audible crackling sounds, the wine within several goblets beginning to crystallize. His crystalline eyes focused on the Countess with sudden intensity, though whatever memories were surfacing remained carefully contained.

"What side are you on?" he asked, his harmonic voice carrying throughout the sudden silence that had fallen around them.

The question carried weight that transcended its simple construction. Not mere curiosity about political allegiance, but something deeper—a recognition of larger conflict that most present couldn't even perceive.

"Ooh, so you know more!" she replied with delighted surprise, clapping her hands together like pleased child. "How intriguing. Though it's somewhat understandable—rumors have it that you were responsible for the disappearance of the Eternal Rift."

Her voice carried this last statement clearly across the banquet hall, ensuring every attendee heard the explosive accusation. The effect was immediate and devastating. Conversations ceased instantly as hundreds of eyes turned toward their small group, shock rippling through the assembled dignitaries like stone dropped in still water.

Lord Penrose nearly choked on his wine. Admiral Elspeth's hand moved instinctively toward her ceremonial blade. The Stone Monarchy's representatives exchanged alarmed glances, their faces pale with recognition of what such capability implied.

Throughout the chamber, something else occurred that only Alex noticed. The servers—who had been moving with subtle coordination throughout the evening—suddenly stopped their tasks completely. They stood perfectly still with expressions of vacant anticipation, as though awaiting some unspoken signal.

The Countess smiled with genuine pleasure at the chaos her words had created. "How delightfully reactive," she observed, studying the shocked faces surrounding them. "Truth does have such wonderful effect on established comfort."

Without another word, she turned and began walking away from them, her midnight blue gown trailing behind like liquid shadow. Each step carried her with predatory grace toward the chamber's center.

Alex stepped forward to intercept her path. "Wait—"

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and his entire body froze mid-step. Every muscle locked in place as though ice had replaced his blood, Pride's golden energy suddenly constrained by invisible force that defied conventional understanding. He could only watch as she continued walking, completely helpless to intervene.

"Now then," the Countess announced in a voice that carried to every corner of the vast chamber, "I believe you all deserve proper entertainment for your diplomatic efforts this evening."

As she walked, shadows began rising beneath her feet, coalescing into solid steps that elevated her above the crowd. She climbed this staircase of living darkness with elegant grace, each step taking her higher until she commanded view of the entire gathering. Her midnight blue gown billowed around her as though moved by wind that touched nothing else in the chamber.

Roman shot to his feet, frost patterns exploding outward from his position with unprecedented intensity. Ice spread across the marble floor in geometric formations, temperature plummeting as his careful control finally snapped in face of obvious threat.

Melo appeared beside him in blur of motion, golden eyes fixed on the ascending figure with lethal focus. His white mask concealed his expression, but his hand moved toward the concealed blade at his side with practiced precision.

Imperial guards throughout the chamber reached for weapons despite diplomatic protocols. Senior military representatives abandoned pretense of ceremony, their training overriding political considerations in face of clear danger.

The Countess turned her gaze toward them, crimson beginning to bleed into her midnight eyes, and every single one froze exactly as Alex had. Roman stood with his hands extended mid-gesture, frost patterns spreading around his feet like broken glass. Melo remained locked in half-draw, blade gleaming in the candlelight but unable to complete its arc. Guards throughout the chamber became living statues, weapons half-raised in defensive positions.

The silence was absolute, broken only by the soft sound of her footsteps on shadow-stairs that defied physics.

"Ah, all of you must know me as Countess Valerian," she said, her voice now carrying harmonics that vibrated through bone and sinew. "A minor noble from the Eastern Marches with surprising trade connections." Her laugh was musical and terrifying. "I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly."

As she spoke, her appearance began to shift. Midnight black hair lightened strand by strand, darkness giving way to deep crimson that seemed to move with life of its own. Her eyes transformed from dark blue to brilliant red, reflecting candlelight like rubies held before flame. Even her skin seemed to take on subtle luminescence, as though lit from within by some internal fire.

The transformation was gradual yet inevitable, each change more unsettling than the last. Nobles who could still move pressed back against walls, some crossing themselves with protective symbols despite diplomatic propriety.

"I am—" she began, voice now carrying notes that seemed to bypass the ear and resonate directly with the mind.

"Sabrina Petrova," Klaus interrupted, his harmonic voice cutting through her declaration with perfect clarity.

The name struck the chamber like thunderclap. Nobles who recognized it paled visibly, some actually staggering backward despite their paralysis. Military representatives who could still think desperately wished they could reach weapons that remained frozen just beyond their grasp.

The woman who had called herself Countess Valerian—now revealed as something far more dangerous—smiled with genuine delight. Blood-red hair cascaded around shoulders that no longer seemed quite human in their proportions, and her transformed face held beauty that was both magnificent and terrible.

"Oh Klaus," she purred, her voice carrying notes of dark honey and sharpened steel. "You do remember me after all."