The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The room felt significantly more cramped compared to Desmond's, with a small bed and a chest for clothes taking up a significant portion of the space. As the young boy stirred, he sleepily brushed away the hand that gently nudged him. Seated beside him, an adult woman beamed with affection, her gaze fixed on her son.

"Rise and shine, my dear," the woman's soft voice filled the room, coaxing him gently. "If you don't wake up soon, Elizabeth might not come to visit." Her warm smile conveyed both playfulness and encouragement. The boy's emerald green eyes blinked open, focusing on his mother's face.

"Good morning, Mom," the child yawned, his voice filled with drowsiness, as he rubbed his eyes.

"Morning, my sweet Clark," Yasi greeted him, unable to contain her delight at her son's adorable morning grogginess. "Breakfast is ready; I've prepared your favorite freshly baked bread." Unable to resist his charm, she couldn't help but pinch his cheek gently.

"Ouch! That hurts, Mom," Clark protested, rubbing his reddened cheek. "Did Uncle Gilbert arrive?" He looked at his mother expectantly.

"That muscle-headed uncle of yours? You better have breakfast first before starting your training," Yasi snorted, heading out of Clark's room to meet Gilbert.

Confusion clouded Clark's face. "What's the matter with Uncle Gilbert?" Gilbert, the younger brother of Albin, Clark's father, was the one who had taught him basic spells and sword techniques.

*groan*

As Clark's stomach emitted a loud growl, he reluctantly got out of bed. "I'm tired of bread," he muttered to himself, making his way toward the kitchen.

The kitchen, in stark contrast to Desmond's grandeur, was barely larger than a bathroom. A small table was tucked into a corner, and various cooking utensils dangled from the ceiling. A toaster was attached to a tiny chimney, and a solitary window allowed a modest amount of sunlight to filter in.

Entering the kitchen, Clark found it empty, with no sign of his parents. On the table, a covered plate awaited him. He took a seat and lifted the hood, only to let out a disappointed groan.

"Damn it! More bread? Bread for breakfast, bread for lunch, bread for dinner. I can't survive on bread alone; I need rice!" Clark grumbled, biting into the unappetizing, hard loaf.

*groan*

Despite the growing hunger pangs in his stomach, Clark persevered, chewing and swallowing the tasteless bread with determination. "Maybe I should ask Elizabeth..." he pondered, hoping for a change in his monotonous breakfast routine.

Continuing to chew the bread, he swallowed it reluctantly and reached for another loaf, repeating the monotonous process over and over again.

Clark, having managed to cough up the swallowed bread and drink some water, finally relieved the choking sensation. He let out a sigh of relief and looked at the remaining bread on his plate.

"The bread..." Clark mumbled, realizing the importance of chewing his food properly as he reached for the water glass conveniently placed next to his plate.

Slurping down the water, Clark burped softly, feeling a sense of fullness in his stomach. He rubbed his satisfied belly and said, "I'm finally full."

After finishing his breakfast, Clark recited a spell, and the leftover water from the glass obediently floated towards his plate, cleaning it with a gentle swirl. "Done. Now I can continue my training and meet Elizabeth as soon as possible."

Halting his energy channeling, Clark placed the plates and glasses neatly in the kitchen cupboard. With his morning routine complete, he was ready to focus on his training.

Meanwhile, in the front yard of Clark's house, three adults were engaged in a lively conversation. Two men and a woman stood together, discussing something with animated gestures.

"As I've been saying, Clark should also learn about economics and dedicate some time to his training!" the woman exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice, as she addressed the two men in front of her.

The two men knelt on the grass, bowing their heads respectfully as the woman continued to voice her opinions without pause. With most neighboring houses featuring two floors, this scene caught the attention of onlookers through their windows, causing laughter to ripple through the surroundings.

Unfazed by the amused glances, the two men took the laughter in stride, even finding pride in being the center of attention. One of them exchanged a smile with the other, silently acknowledging the humorous situation.

Their laughter, however, only served to agitate the woman standing before them, feeling as though her advice was being disregarded. Frustrated, she reached for her small fan and...

*slap*

"What's so funny?" The two men instinctively held their heads, wincing from the unexpected blow.

"Honey, let's stop; the neighbors are watching," one of the men said, rising to his feet and placing a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. Meanwhile, the other man gave his brother a thumbs-up, thinking to himself, "Nice one, brother," as he winked playfully.

"Humph," the woman huffed, realizing that her husband had his own dreams to pursue, but she couldn't help but feel a strong desire for her child to become a successful entrepreneur.

"Uncle!" Clark's voice rang out, interrupting the tension between his parents and his mother's anger.

The man who had been kneeling on the grass stood up, his face lighting up with a smile. He spread out his arms, welcoming Clark's approach.

"Hello, little Clark," Uncle Gilbert greeted warmly, his eyes full of affection. He was always delighted to see his nephew, and he shared a special bond with him since Clark's birth.

Clark's eyes sparkled with joy as he saw his beloved uncle. Ignoring the ongoing conflict between his parents and his mother's frustrations, he sprinted towards his uncle with open arms.

"Uncle Gilbert!" Clark shouted with excitement, throwing himself into his uncle's waiting embrace.

Hop!

Gilbert lifted Clark off the ground, twirling him in the air. Laughter filled the air as Clark relished the familiar embrace of his uncle.

"Hahaha, look at you, all grown up now," Gilbert said with a smile, his eyes filled with pride. He had watched Clark's progress closely since he was a baby.

After a few spins, Clark started feeling dizzy. "Uncle, please stop now," he pleaded, trying to regain his balance. He looked up at his uncle, his head still spinning. "Phew, I feel like I'm going to fall," he thought.

Hearing Clark's plea, Gilbert immediately halted his twirling and gently placed him back on the ground. He crouched down to Clark's level, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? Still feeling dizzy?" he asked, checking for any signs of distress.

"Just a little, but I won't fall. I'm a warrior at heart," Clark declared, puffing out his chest proudly. He met his uncle's gaze and added, "And a future successful businessman!"

As Gilbert reached out to pat Clark on the shoulder, he felt a sudden chill run through his body. He glanced to the side and saw Clark's mother giving him a piercing stare.

"Ah, yes... And a future successful businessman," Gilbert said with a forced smile, feeling the coldness dissipate. Clark, observing this interaction, was surprised. He noticed how his uncle's expression had shifted, as if struggling, and then sighing in resignation.

Clark approached his uncle, whispering softly, "Is it because of my mother again?" He saw the difficulty in his uncle's eyes and, understanding the situation, suggested, "Uncle, let's focus on our practice. I want to become stronger and defeat that person soon."

As Clark spoke those words, his gaze turned serious, and he directed his attention towards the scene unfolding between his parents and Desmond. He imagined how Desmond's rumored strength could overpower Gibson with a single swing.

"In reality, it's impossible! Our age difference isn't that significant, not to mention I've seen him spending a lot of time with Eliz," Clark thought to himself. He knew he had to remain vigilant, especially when it came to Eliz. He didn't want history to repeat itself with Matson II's interference.

"Okay, let's get ready," Gilbert said, not fully understanding his nephew's sudden change in demeanor. He simply wanted to support Clark in becoming capable of taking care of himself.

"Okay, Uncle," Clark replied, refocusing his attention.

Both Clark and Gilbert took a step back, preparing for their training session.

Gilbert's demeanor shifted from that of a cheerful uncle to that of a disciplined soldier. His aura transformed, exuding a sense of dedication and seriousness. "Attack me with all your ability, kid!" Gilbert's tone and expression matched his newfound intensity, fueling Clark's excitement even further.

"Mugen!" Clark called out, invoking his magic. Slowly, tree roots emerged from the ground beneath his feet, wrapping around his hand and forming a katana-like sword without a handle.

"HAAA!" Clark shouted, charging forward with full force, believing that his shout would enhance his momentum.

Creak.

"Hooh, this sword again? Where did you draw inspiration for such an unconventional weapon?" Gilbert inquired, skillfully parrying Clark's attack with his wooden sword.

Creak.

The collision of their wooden blades left visible marks—cracks, bends, and splintered wood.

Creak, creak.

Clark remained silent, fully focused on launching attacks from various angles. He swung his sword with both hands, attempting a diagonal slash from the left.

Creak.

This time, his attack was anticipated. Clark gritted his teeth, swiftly adjusting his stance. He pressed forward, raising his sword as high as he could and executing a feint with the tip of his katana.

Creak.

The katana he held flew through the air, while his uncle's wooden sword touched his hand.

"Ouch!" Clark winced, his voice low.

Despite his concentration, it seemed that every time he launched an attack, his uncle could predict his movements. Gilbert appeared to anticipate every trick Clark had up his sleeve, as if he could discern the trajectory of each attack in advance.

Swoosh.

Clark stepped back, his breathing heavy, panting from the exertion.

Observing his nephew's fatigue, Gilbert shook his head. "Listen, kid, you're expending too much energy swinging that peculiar sword," he advised.