The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Meanwhile, within the territorial boundaries of the Imperial Empire, the grandeur of the throne room commanded attention. Its expanse stretched far and wide, supported by towering pillars that seemed to reach for the heavens.

Rays of sunlight, filtered through the stained glass windows, danced upon the polished marble floors, casting ethereal shadows that added an air of mystique to the surroundings.

At the far end of the room, a pair of majestic monster statues stood proudly, fashioned in the likeness of dragons. These formidable creatures, frozen in stone, possessed menacing features with mouths agape, as if ready to unleash a torrent of fiery breath upon any who dared challenge their presence.

Just behind these fierce sentinels, the eye was drawn to a resplendent throne, adorned with intricate carvings resembling the supple texture of dragon scales. As if to punctuate the magnificence of the throne, a colossal window framed the vista of the imperial capital, offering a breathtaking panorama to those who occupied this regal chamber.

Yet, the people who now knelt before the throne appeared unfazed by the opulence that surrounded them. Their trembling legs and fear-stricken faces revealed the weight of the dread they bore. Each figure wore identical attire, a uniformity that shrouded them in anonymity.

Their garments concealed their entire faces, leaving only their eyes visible, complemented by attire consisting of pitch-black shirts, gloves, and pants.

Suddenly, a gut-wrenching scream rent the air, causing one among them to involuntarily shed tears of sheer terror. The piercing cry abruptly ceased, followed by a heavy thud that resonated through the room. A cloud of dust billowed, momentarily obscuring their view.

With trepidation, they dared to steal glances, only to witness one of their comrades lying lifeless before them, mirroring their own appearance.

The fallen figure's eyes, wide open in a perpetual expression of shock, fear, and anger, met their gaze. In addition to the vacant stare, blood trickled from their lips as if whispering indistinguishable words amidst their final breaths.

"It has been seven long years..." Another voice murmured from a concealed alcove behind the statue, uttered in a hushed tone that sent shivers down the spines of those who knelt. Cold sweat dripped down their brows in response to the chilling presence.

Emerging from the shadows behind the twin dragon statues, a middle-aged man with flowing shoulder-length hair sat upon the throne. With a measured grace, he raised his left hand to rest his cheek, while the other firmly gripped a claymore, its blade tainted with the crimson evidence of recent violence.

Adorned with a regal crown atop his head, the man possessed a countenance befitting a sage, his thin beard and mustache lending an aura of wisdom to his visage. In a display of authority, he elevated his voice, laden with immense pressure that bore down upon his subordinates.

"Is there truly no outcome to be had?!" His tone escalated, sending waves of intimidation coursing through the kneeling throng.

The king of the Imperial Empire, once a prime minister serving the ruler of Sieg, now held the crown by virtue of the former king's departure a dozen years prior. His eyes betrayed an intense thirst for blood, having dispatched numerous individuals who proved inadequate in their roles. In the presence of their formidable king, not a single subordinate dared utter a sound.

The weight of his gaze pressed them further into submission, reducing their kneeling forms to a state of prostration upon the cold floor.

Suddenly, a creaking noise pierced through the air, resonating across the corners of the chamber. The intrusion of the sound relieved the pressure that bore down on the king's subordinates, allowing them to draw a much-needed breath. The king eased his grip, shifting his attention toward the one who dared disturb his presence.

A young man, his age ranging between twenty and twenty-five, entered the room clad in a flowing shirt that cascaded down to his legs. Atop his head sat a grandiose hat, slightly taller than the average headpiece. With a humble bow, he approached the king.

"Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty, but we have received an intriguing proposition from a contact in the North Kingdom." The young man was none other than the prime minister, currently serving the Imperial Empire.

The prime minister's voice rang like that of an angel to the king's kneeling subordinates, offering them a momentary respite from their tense ordeal. They cast furtive glances toward the prime minister, expressing their gratitude through silent gestures.

"Hooh?" The king's curiosity was piqued upon hearing about the offer. With a relaxed tone, he inquired, "Is it truly so captivating that it warrants interrupting my time?" However, his eyes betrayed a deeper meaning, laced with anticipation.

Thankfully, the prime minister understood the unspoken message conveyed by his king. "I have thoroughly examined the contents of the offer, Your Majesty, and it presents a unique opportunity to heighten our chances of capturing those treacherous souls," he explained, lowering his hands and intertwining his palms while bowing his head.

In one swift motion, the king leaned back against his throne, flinging his sword upward. A wave of unease washed over everyone in the throne room, particularly those who knelt before their sovereign. What could this signify? Was it to be a new form of punishment?

Such thoughts raced through the minds of the subordinates, their collective anticipation heightening as they understood that evading the falling blade would yield no change in their ultimate fate.

Amidst the king's display, the prime minister remained unaffected, his disdain for the cowardice of his fellow subordinates evident in his expression. How could they fail to employ even an ounce of critical thinking? It was precisely due to their ineptitude that the king's assigned tasks would inevitably falter. He snorted derisively, calmly observing the reaction of his king.

Meanwhile, the suspended blade continued its midair rotation before abruptly ceasing its motion, hurtling downwards with alarming speed.

* Swoosh! *

The moment was a blur. The king's subordinates instinctively shut their eyes tight, hoping that the lethal sword would not find its mark upon their vulnerable bodies.

* Clang! *

The resonating clash of metal reverberated through the room. Tentatively, they peeked, relief washing over them as they discovered that their friends were unscathed, each one spared from the sword's deadly descent.

Confusion etched itself onto their faces, yet they dared not raise their heads. However, the sight of the prime minister, witnessing their collective anxiety, could no longer be contained. He chuckled, unable to suppress his laughter, as he gazed down upon them.

Meanwhile, the king, sitting upon his throne, frowned at the tense atmosphere. "Update me on the latest news regarding those traitors," he commanded, this time devoid of the oppressive aura that had enveloped his subordinates. He granted them permission to rise from their kneeling positions.

As they stood, their eyes inadvertently caught sight of the sword's resting place—the very mouth of the dragon statue that loomed before them. The sword's positioning, slightly askew, threatened to slide off the dragon's tooth and plunge towards them, enough to send their hearts into a frenzy.

It became clear that their king had harbored no intention to harm or punish them. His sole objective had been to execute a show of stylish swordplay. Reflecting upon their previous panic, a wave of shame washed over them, yet the release from pressure was short-lived, as it returned with renewed force.

Initially bewildered, they soon realized that none among them had provided the king with the desired information. Instantly, they dropped to their knees, casting fleeting glances at one another.

Observing their reaction, the prime minister found himself thoroughly amused. What fools they were! Even if their intellect amounted to naught but a shrimp's, it offered no justification for disregarding the king's orders.

* Pop! *

In the midst of their dazed state, a sudden cry erupted from the front. The surrounding individuals felt a graze against their garments and turned their gaze in unison, their eyes widening in disbelief. The sword that had once occupied the dragon's mouth had vanished, replaced by its chilling presence within the stomach of one of their comrades.

The beads of sweat trickled down once more as one of the king's subordinates mustered the courage to stand and report, his head respectfully bowed. "Report, Your Excellency. According to one of our spies, the traitors have sought refuge in the beast territory."

Upon hearing this news, the once-tense atmosphere in the room eased slightly. The king narrowed his eyes and questioned, "Then why have you not apprehended them?"

In response, the subordinate calmly addressed the king, offering his rationale. "In my opinion, sending assassins into that territory alone would result in their untimely demise. Additionally, we are all aware that the traitors possess formidable strength, capable of overpowering three of us simultaneously, and they possess cunning minds."

The subordinate paused to catch his breath before continuing, "Therefore, the solution I propose is to dispatch assassins to guard every road connecting to the northern kingdom."

The prime minister couldn't help but be impressed. Witnessing an assassin daring to provide arguments and solutions to the king filled him with awe. He commended the assassin for his audacity and the benefits that such a solution would bring to the kingdom.

* Clap! * * Clap! *

The king applauded, astounded by the unexpected response. He could hardly believe that such a capable individual stood before him. "That is a commendable answer and solution," the king said, a smile gracing his lips as he surpassed his own expectations.

"From this day forth, I bestow upon you the title of Captain of the Assassins." He then glanced at the former captain, who knelt behind the new appointee. "As for you, former captain, you have truly disappointed me."

The former captain, trembling and bewildered, could feel his pride shatter. His gaze turned to the new captain, brimming with anger, hatred, and envy.

The king noticed the former captain's reaction but chose to ignore it. Regardless of the methods employed, as long as the assigned tasks were successfully carried out, he would disregard personal feelings.

"You are dismissed," the king waved his hand, signaling their departure.

"Yes, Your Highness," they responded in unison. Like a gust of wind, they vanished from sight, leaving only bloodstains on the floor where the wounded assassin had previously lain.

With the room emptied, save for himself and the prime minister, the king opened his mouth, posing a question. "So, who shall be our allies in the future?"

The prime minister's smile widened as he drew closer to the king. "Master Wizard Grimm, a close confidant of the current king of the northern kingdom," he revealed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.