The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Vesta narrowed his eyes, keenly observing the troubled expression that etched itself onto Sam's face as the conversation turned towards this delicate point. Sam hesitated, took a deep breath to steady himself, and then lifted his head, locking eyes with Vesta. His voice heavy with emotion, he began recounting the tale.

"Jon... we all genuinely feel sorry for him," Sam's words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of sympathy and sorrow. The scene unfolded amidst the rowdy revelry of the bandits, their mirth echoing through the air. Jon, known for his unruly temperament, couldn't resist the urge to challenge one of the bandits.

A fight ensued, with both combatants wielding real swords, a domain where Jon's expertise as a member of the village patrol team shone.

Initially, Jon held the upper hand in the close-quarters combat, his skill allowing him to fend off several bandits. Victory seemed imminent, a triumph that would have brought joy to both the villagers and Jon himself. To have defeated a number of bandits while serving merely as a humble part of the village patrol team was an achievement to be proud of. However...

Sam's face sagged with dejection as he turned away from Vesta, his gaze fixed on empty space. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he continued speaking, the weight of his words filling the room. "Instead, what awaits Jon is misery."

Sam fell silent, lost in contemplation, his thoughts left unspoken. Seconds stretched into an eternity, and a serene stillness settled upon the room. Outside, the clamor of conversation mingled with the dancing motes of dust, the sun casting its gentle glow upon Vesta's figure, partially cloaked in shadows.

Meanwhile, Sam's gaze drifted towards the ceiling, lost in a daydream that seemed to reflect a montage of memories. After an indeterminate amount of time, his eyes finally returned to Vesta, his mouth poised to speak, yet no sound escaped. His expression carried a conflicting blend of a smile and melancholy.

The pain that gnawed at Sam's heart resurfaced, causing his pulse to thunder in his ears. His dry throat constricted, trapping the words that refused to find voice.

*Slurp*

The sound of Vesta sipping a cold drink shattered the silence, drawing Sam's attention back. Behind the glass, Vesta's eyes fixated on Sam, patiently waiting. Each gulp Vesta took seemed to resonate like a clockwork ticking, intensifying the nervousness within Sam.

"And then... Jon's wife was found lifeless in her room, her clothes torn asunder," Sam finally spoke, the words escaping his lips with a heavy exhale.

Vesta observed the tear trickling down the corner of Sam's eye, a silent confirmation of the truth. "So, Jon's wife..." Vesta paused, his gaze narrowing at Sam before continuing, "No, your daughter perished as a consequence of Jon's victory. Is that correct?"

Sam flinched at the words, unable to provide an immediate response. Instead, he bowed his head even deeper until his forehead met the table's surface. Vesta's astute observation and deduction were on point, causing a wave of realization to wash over Sam.

"You can rest assured; I have eliminated all those bandits," Vesta replied, a chuckle escaping his lips. While the situation was far from humorous, Vesta's words struck Sam's ears like lightning.

Startled, Sam sat up, his gaze fixed on Vesta with an expression of disbelief, bordering on shock. "Sir... this is no joking matter..."

Vesta, for a moment, didn't correct his choice of words. He continued to chuckle, causing Sam's face to redden like a ripe tomato. If the situation was amusing to the other party, it had certainly crossed Sam's boundaries.

However, as Sam witnessed the gleam in Vesta's eyes, he reconsidered Vesta's words. "There is no benefit for him as a Guardian to lie... If that's true," Sam muttered, his suspicion gradually giving way to admiration as he stared at Vesta.

The sunlight filtering through the bamboo roof's imperfections cast a radiant glow upon Vesta, rendering him a reluctant hero who shunned the spotlight. Sam found himself opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, at a loss for words and utterly bewildered. Perhaps, if Jon were to learn of this news, his entire demeanor would change, much like Sam's own.

While others may remain oblivious, Sam was well aware that the bandit group was formidable, fully armed, and bolstered by the support of wizards. Even now, despite seeing Vesta's group firsthand, he struggled to believe that the Guardians had truly come to their small village.

"Sir... Guardian..." Sam finally grasped the significance of the title. Gazing at Vesta in person, he couldn't contain his gratitude any longer. Tears streamed down his face like cascading water, dampening his clothes as he sobbed on the dusty floor, sinking to his knees.

"Haha, don't dwell on it; it's just a minor matter..." Vesta's casual words brought solace to Sam's trembling heart. He feared that their village's previous treatment might have offended the Guardians.

After a few minutes, as Vesta's laughter subsided, he inquired, "From your account, it seems this village has been attacked by beasts on two occasions?"

"Yes, sir." Sam replied honestly, his head tilted in puzzlement.

"I see." A glint flickered in Vesta's solemn eyes upon hearing Sam's definitive answer. "I want to confirm once more, did the previous attack also involve goblins leading the assault?" Vesta emitted an aura of gravity, his expression dead serious as he locked his gaze onto Sam.

Sam couldn't help but shiver, feeling as though the very beasts he spoke of stood before him. The sensation served as a stark reminder of his own helplessness in the face of someone who had reached the pinnacle of humanity.

Flustered, Sam stammered, "I... I'm not entirely sure, sir." Seeing Vesta's unwavering gaze fixed upon him, unsatisfied with his response, Sam hurriedly added, "But according to what I heard from the bandits... it wasn't goblins, but..."

Sam paused, locking eyes with Vesta, awaiting his reply. Vesta nodded, signaling for him to continue, a gesture that encouraged Sam. "The bandits claimed they witnessed a peculiar creature with red skin and wings the size of a child's body," Sam recalled, struggling to recall the details of the bandits' conversation.

"That strange creature was perched atop one of the Dire Wolves, with fiery red eyes."

Vesta's pupils contracted, a momentary expression of shock flickering across his face before returning to its usual somber demeanor. "I understand. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sam."

Before Sam could utter a response, Vesta interrupted, his tone heavy and stern. "You may leave." His words weighed down on Sam, leaving him disheartened as he hastily bowed to Vesta before making his exit.

There was no longer a trace of doubt in Sam's eyes; he was certain that the figure before him was indeed a Guardian, a being one level below the Grandmaster.

Once Sam had departed, Vesta found himself immersed in contemplation within the quiet and solitary room. His gaze turned cold as he carefully pondered Sam's earlier words.

"This is a significant problem..." Vesta muttered to himself. If his memory served him right, what Sam described bore a striking resemblance to one of the creatures from the Western lands. "An imp..."