The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"Damn! I can't hold this any longer," Desmond muttered through gritted teeth. Frustration consumed him, coursing through his veins like a raging fire, even though outwardly, his skin and face remained composed. If someone were to touch him now, they would mistake the intense heat radiating from him as a fever.

Though Desmond maintained an outward appearance of calm, his heart pounded within his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears. He exhaled, a hot breath escaping his lips as he felt Vesta's penetrating gaze fixated on him, stirring a nervous unease deep within.

The technique he had developed was still in its infancy, a mere prototype hastily created. He could sense his energy depleting with every passing minute, a stark reminder of its imperfection.

In the meantime, Desmond removed all the jewelry he wore, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Vesta's narrowed eyes betrayed a hint of surprise as he observed Desmond, finding that his aura and presence remained unchanged, much to Vesta's astonishment.

"This... Did my daughter lie to me?" Vesta's thoughts raced, his mind grappling with the realization that Desmond appeared calm, even smiling at him as if he were a fool who had been deceived.

But this realization struck Diana as well. Until now, she had understood her father's intentions, but as she looked at Desmond, her heart sank.

"You... What has happened to you?" Diana's voice quivered with a tinge of panic as she pointed at him, her hand trembling. It wasn't fear of her father that drove her previous statement, but rather the way Desmond gazed at her father that unsettled her.

Desmond, despite his familiar visage, seemed like a stranger to her. In the past, his dominant aura and arrogant demeanor had both captivated and repelled her, leaving her in a state of ambivalence toward the political marriage arranged by her mother.

But now, as she studied him, it felt as if she were beholding an injured lion robbed of its majestic prowess in an instant. Though her feelings for him had grown over the years, she couldn't conceal her disappointment etched on her face.

Diana possessed a unique way of thinking that garnered attention from other men. Her presence exuded an air of dominance yet maintained an undeniable elegance, drawing others to the challenge of taming a wild, ferocious beast.

For Diana, the strength of a man equated to the extent of her reliance on him and her ability to hone her skills through their interactions. It was her vision of a promising future—a future shaped by her father's influence or her mother's manipulation, she couldn't be certain.

Desmond tilted his head, a look of confusion crossing his features as he inquired, "What do you mean, Miss Diana?" Observing the young man before her, whose plain yet somewhat handsome appearance tugged at her heartstrings, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain.

Diana had initially considered the necklace as the cause of Desmond's current state, but as he removed it, doubts about her mother's involvement crept into her mind. Did her mother foresee this? Diana questioned, finding one more reason to reject Gibson's proposal. Defense proficiency alone meant little if one lacked the ability to counter-attack. Cowardice was not in Diana's nature.

Could something have happened to him over these three years? Her eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope as she gazed at Desmond. But she shook her head, realizing the need to confirm the facts.

"Do you have spare time? Fight me in battle now," Diana stated straightforwardly, leaving Desmond momentarily speechless. This matter held utmost importance for Diana as she stared at Desmond with grave determination.

It felt like a game of doubting minds, each side questioning the other's motives. Desmond saw Diana merely as a chess piece in Clementine's grand scheme, failing to acknowledge her as a woman.

But hearing her question, Desmond could confirm one thing—this woman was a battle maniac! He inwardly snorted at the thought. He currently found himself in a critical condition where he couldn't unleash his energy, carefully concealing his true capabilities from Vesta's watchful eyes.

Given that the intentions of the others present remained ambiguous to Desmond, he was unaware of what Vesta sought to gain from this meeting. Who knew, Vesta might even have him arrested on the spot?!

Avoiding her question, Desmond turned his gaze to Vesta and remarked, "Mr. Vesta, is this the reason you summoned me?" His dissatisfaction evident in his tone.

Vesta furrowed his brow, casting a stern gaze at his daughter. "Diana," he spoke firmly, causing her to lower her head and retreat meekly.

Vesta continued, his lips curling up as he addressed Desmond, "Of course not, young man. To be honest, I simply wanted to hear a detailed account of what happened to you in the forest. After all, an incident claiming a person's life occurred, and it's nothing short of a miracle that only you and your servant survived.

Though it provides some relief, as the Guardian, I cannot dismiss this matter so easily."

If it were any other child, Vesta might have approached them with simple questions rather than subjecting them to imprisonment. But the child before him had a history of a murder case at the tender age of three.

Despite the early morning hour, the atmosphere in the room mirrored the changing seasons, oscillating between moments of heat and coldness, creating an air of tension and uncertainty.

"No problem," Desmond replied in his usual manner. He began narrating his story, starting from the moment he was leisurely strolling through the forest until he found himself ambushed by a pack of Dire Wolves.

"At that moment, Ms. Selena, a talented Witch, swiftly intervened, fending off the wolves that attacked me head-on. As I desperately focused on protecting myself and my servant, I could only watch in helplessness as the other Dire Wolves overwhelmed and mercilessly slaughtered Ms.

Selena right before my eyes." Desmond's voice carried a range of emotions, shifting from joy at witnessing the forest's breathtaking beauty to sorrow at witnessing the loss of a dear companion.

At this juncture, Vesta suddenly realized something and spoke, "Summon your servant." His gaze remained solemn and unwavering, unchanged as he absorbed Desmond's narration.

Desmond knew that Vesta was aware of his proficiency in spells inherited from his mother and a few swordsmanship skills from his father. However, when Vesta inquired about his servant, suspicion clouded his expression.

"Greetings, sir," Laura reappeared before them, her demeanor mirroring Desmond's as she had entered first.

Laura refrained from audaciously meeting Vesta's gaze directly, instead bowing her head and patiently awaiting Vesta's next command.

Vesta narrowed his eyes, though not possessing wizardry himself, he could discern the notable difference between someone who had delved into the realm of Wizards/Witches and an ordinary person.

And in this moment, Laura exemplified that disparity. Natural energy lingered around her, yet it did not penetrate her body, signifying she was not a Witch. Moreover, the natural energy did not disperse into the surroundings but simply floated nearby, an extraordinary occurrence.

Ordinary individuals or non-wizards would find it impossible to perceive the natural energy enveloping them with the naked eye, but for a swordsman, it was not an inconceivable feat.

Observing this, Desmond furrowed his brow, his mouth twitching as he witnessed a flicker of light emanating from Vesta's eyes. He then shifted his gaze toward the system map.

"This will be challenging; perhaps this marks the end for our family..." Desmond's thoughts raced, realizing that numerous grey dots were tightly encircling their location. He couldn't discern whether they were Vesta's personal soldiers or mercenaries, but the situation appeared dire.