The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

*Smack* The chilling echo of impact reverberated through the air, accompanied by a sudden gust of violent wind that swept through the scene. In the blink of an eye, a leg materialized out of nowhere, ruthlessly colliding with the boy's face, launching him into a chaotic mid-air spin.

The unexpected turn of events left everyone dumbfounded, their senses momentarily overwhelmed. However, the captain, a seasoned warrior hardened by countless battles, swiftly regained his composure, his mind honed to react in the face of adversity.

"Whoops, are you alright, kid?" The captain peered down at the fallen boy, blood trickling incessantly from his nose, his eyes rolled upwards in shock. The impact had rendered him unconscious, a sight that stirred a mix of concern and resignation within the captain.

"Ah, he's unconscious..." the captain muttered to himself, his tone laced with a tinge of disappointment. The ease with which this valued prodigy, once considered on par with even the lowest-ranking soldier, had been effortlessly flung through the air spoke volumes about the latent power of the one who delivered the kick.

"My son!" The mother's anguished cry pierced the air as she witnessed her child vanish in a disarray of injuries. Hastily grabbing a handkerchief, she gently dabbed at the blood staining his face, her tear-filled eyes pleading with the captain for answers. "Captain..."

Her incessant sobbing tugged at the captain's heartstrings, even as he maintained his steely facade. He narrowed his eyes, coldly addressing the grief-stricken mother. "You must be the young master under my service, am I correct?"

To his surprise, the young master appeared deceptively unassuming, masquerading as an ordinary civilian. His physique bore a hint of muscularity, a departure from the frailness of his earlier counterpart. With his long hair neatly tied back, he exuded a certain rugged charm.

The sharp contours of his nose and the captivating magenta hue of his eyes further enhanced his handsome visage, capable of enchanting even the noblest of young ladies with a single glance.

However, the captain dismissed these superficial observations, subtly tapping the child's mother on the shoulder in a gesture of sympathy before rising to his feet. His gaze hardened as he locked eyes with the boy before him, a glimmer of indignation flickering in his expression.

"Young master." Laura, momentarily taken aback by Desmond's unexpected transformation, instinctively lowered her head in deference, saluting before taking her place behind him without a hint of hesitation.

Indeed, the entirety of the royal troops and mercenaries assigned to this mission had only caught fleeting glimpses of the individual they were entrusted to protect, their interactions limited to the preparations within the confines of the mansion.

The full scope of the mission remained a closely guarded secret, known only to the Grandmaster and the leader of the mercenaries, both of whom diligently followed orders, irrespective of the identities of those they safeguarded.

Yet, as the captain observed this young master, a peculiar sensation crept over him. There was an absence, a flatness to the boy's demeanor that unsettled him. There was no discernible aura emanating from him, no trace of the fiery ambition or longing one would expect from a typical youth.

The captain found himself increasingly unsettled by the young master's calm demeanor, which seemed all too familiar, reminiscent of the impressions he had gathered from countless adult civilians. However, as his gaze fell upon the young master's impeccable skin and exquisite attire, the captain's suspicions began to crystallize.

It was as if his initial impression had allowed him to make an educated guess, and a snort of disdain escaped his lips as he looked down upon the young master. "Young master, please forgive me, but you shouldn't..."

Despite his reservations, the captain maintained a semblance of politeness, understanding the desire of a child like this to be indulged and respected. Meanwhile, as the captain continued to ramble on, Desmond paid him no heed, his attention instead drawn to the captain's perception of him. He found it intriguing.

Ah, this necklace never fails to entertain me, Desmond thought to himself, thoroughly amused by the captain's babbling. Unbeknownst to Desmond, Laura observed the guard with clenched fists, her gaze fixed upon him.

"Would you be so kind, young master, as to provide transport for this mother and son in your horse-drawn carriage?" Despite the captain's long-winded request, he remained oblivious to the reasons behind the young master's apparent tolerance of his words. Glancing back, he noticed the mother still desperately trying to stanch her son's bleeding, which filled him with a sense of urgency.

He turned around, seeking an answer from the young master, only to find...

Desmond wordlessly retreated into the confines of the horse-drawn carriage, completely ignoring the captain's question. The captain's frustration grew, his impulse to shout and seize the young master by the shoulders surging forth. However, just as his hand was poised to make contact, a sudden chill pervaded the air.

*Stuck.* A pained groan escaped the captain's lips as he recoiled, his injured hand pierced by an ice needle that seemed to occupy the space between his fingers.

Surveying the wound, the captain's gaze filled with fear, his legs trembling involuntarily. He glanced back at the horse-drawn carriage, only to discover that the door had been tightly shut. Relief washed over him, mingled with confusion. What was that? An ice elemental manifestation that had impaled his hand—an unmistakable act of a wizard or witch.

Yet, there had been no incantations uttered, no signs or sounds of spellcasting. Could it be the maid? But he had heard no reports of the maid invoking incantations, and he had never encountered a wizard or witch willing to serve as a mere servant, given their inherently arrogant nature.

The captain dismissed the notion of the boy being a wizard, shaking his head in disbelief. It seemed inconceivable that someone with the strength of a low-class soldier could also possess the powers of a wizard. However, the fact remained that his family had a witch and a dual-class member.

Even though the boy's name did not carry the same renown as Leona's, almost all the soldiers were aware of his exceptional dual-class abilities. Being a dual-class was no easy feat, as Edward himself had only managed to reach the rank of First Swordsman after attaining the status of a Third Wizard. The captain's mind was filled with confusion.

Despite his vast experience working within the kingdom, he had never encountered a brat like this before.

Suddenly, a pallor washed over his expression, his throat dry as he repeatedly swallowed, causing sweat to cascade down his entire body. Unbeknownst to him, the perspiration carried an unpleasant odor, and his entire frame trembled with fear. The captain was completely unaware of his own alarming state.

Witnessing the captain's distressing condition, the mother recoiled in horror, instinctively pulling her son closer, dragging his limp body away from the carriage door.

"Captain, are you alright?" A concerned voice broke through the captain's stupor, jolting him back to reality. With an awkward smile, he turned to face the source of the voice.

"It's nothing, Mrs.," he responded, attempting to steady himself by grasping the side of the horse-drawn carriage while his legs continued to tremble. "Follow me; I'll find a suitable place for you."

This time, the captain refrained from personally helping them to their feet, instead summoning the nearest soldier for assistance. Without casting a backward glance, the captain pressed forward, his other hand pressed against his lower region.

Ouch. The pain was evident.

Had anyone been observant enough to notice the captain's peculiar behavior, they would have been shocked to discover that, in addition to his injured hand, a small needle had also pierced through his pants, causing a wound that left a trail of blood in its wake.