The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond's body, wracked with pain, grew limp, and his consciousness waned, causing his view to blur. The book he had come across warned against depleting the unique energy within one's body, as it would render them unable to tap into its power ever again. With time, humans had learned to adapt to this energy, integrating it into their very beings.

Like a tree without roots, the absence of a single organ would impact the entirety of their being, albeit still allowing for survival, but only for a limited time.

In this moment, Desmond experienced a profound emptiness coursing through his body, inducing a dizzying sensation that released the pressure that had burdened him. It was as if his body had suddenly shed its weight and attained an ethereal lightness. However, this fleeting feeling was abruptly shattered by a heart-wrenching sound that resonated within him, echoing with a bone-chilling *crack*.

Blood erupted from every pore, transforming him into a grotesque fountain of crimson. His widened eyes displayed a haunting red hue, with his pupils merging seamlessly into his irises.

"Arghh..." Desmond's control over the mounting pressure waned, and a low groan escaped his lips. Each of his cells seemed to cry out in agonizing torment, while his mind succumbed to a numbness that gradually drowned out the pain. As his consciousness faded into a void, a torrent of questions surged within him. Why must he endure such suffering?

Since birth, he had known only pain, devoid of happiness. Was this some divine plan orchestrated by a higher power, snatching away his perfect life?

Desmond's body knelt upon the ground, a pitiful sight amidst the cacophony of battle cries, elemental clashes, and the roar of a dragon-like creature. Memories began to resurface, flickering like aged film frames, revealing fragments of his past life leading up to his arrival in this strange world. His gaze, devoid of life, fixated on a vacant point in the air.

Yet, as he watched, the pain gradually subsided. If this continued, he risked losing one of his senses, becoming a man unable to perceive pain—a living phantom. However, all memories suddenly vanished, replaced by a transparent screen hovering in his mind, bearing the words: [The Blood has been released!]

With that single declaration from the system, a warm sensation radiated through his body, filling every fiber of his being, akin to a gentle river merging with the boundless sea. His vision cleared, and his consciousness returned, allowing his thoughts to regain clarity.

Unbeknownst to him, the blood that had spilled from his body began to be drawn back, gradually absorbed until not a single droplet remained—a mesmerizing illusion.

His magenta eyes rekindled, shimmering with a profound killing intent and a fiery determination that rekindled within his soul. This extraordinary scene, akin to a reversed video, played out as the pool of blood around him receded, sucked back into his body until not a trace remained.

As Desmond's body remained devoid of energy, the system initiated an automatic check on his physical condition. A peculiar sensation washed over him, making his expression contort into an odd mixture of surprise and confusion. According to his understanding, every action the system performed required energy drawn from his own body.

However, the hovering transparent screen reassured him that his body was fine, shattering his hypothesis.

Shaking his head, Desmond redirected his focus towards his newfound power. Simultaneously, he experienced an overwhelming surge of strength, as if his body had the capacity to crush boulder-sized rocks obstructing his path. An enigmatic force coursed through his veins, akin to an unending waterfall cascading down.

*Crack.*

But with a mere shift in his weight, the ground beneath him gave way, his feet sinking into the fractured earth, leaving a small indentation. Witnessing this, Desmond was struck with astonishment. He gingerly straightened his posture, cautiously moving his arms, apprehensive of the potential consequences.

*Swoosh.*

Inadvertently, as he tested the motion of his arms, a gust of wind erupted from his sides, sending pebbles hurtling through the air. Holy shit, Desmond's mind exclaimed in disbelief. The power pulsating within him resembled a natural cataclysm, even though he had barely tapped into its potential.

This led him to ponder what might occur if he were to unleash his might upon the ground, propelling himself forward with tremendous force. Would the earth tremble, forming a colossal crater, while winds whipped up a tempest, sweeping across the battlefield?

The very idea amused him, and Desmond laughed at his own thoughts, his curiosity now reaching its zenith as he eagerly anticipated examining his statistics.

Yet, a furrow appeared on his brow. It dawned on him that whenever he channeled his power, an intense surge of pain surged through his body, only to swiftly recede as his blood surged through that point, healing it and diminishing the discomfort. He decided to swing his arm again, his fingers tracing an oval shape through the air.

*Swoosh.*

In an instant, a miniature typhoon materialized at the precise spot where his fingers had traced the oval, propelling forward before vanishing into nothingness. Desmond paid this little attention, his focus instead fixed on the rapid pain that flared up and then subsided, accompanied by the soothing effects of his self-healing abilities.

With a sigh, he surmised, "Does this mean my body can't bear the power of the Swordsman skills? Were it not for my blood healing me, I would have likely sustained severe injuries." Desmond experienced a tinge of disappointment, but he remained delighted. It became apparent that he was the only individual capable of withstanding the immense power inherent in these perilous Swordsman skills.

This revelation piqued his curiosity about the skill's creator, someone who had taught numerous individuals. Although he struggled to comprehend the intricacies of these skills, possessing only a rudimentary understanding of their underlying principles, Desmond wondered about the person behind their development.

The power boots amplified and compelled every latent ability within his body to surge forth, suggesting that prolonged use of this skill would gradually erode an individual's future potential as a Swordsman.

But that rule applied to everyone else, not him.

A smug grin tugged at the corners of Desmond's lips. If it weren't for the system guiding him, he might have discovered this fact much later, after squandering a significant portion of his body's potential.

Desmond's curiosity mounting, he redirected his attention towards checking his status, eager to delve into the newfound depths of his abilities.

Status.

[Scanning Host Body...]

Impatience surged within him as he watched the system meticulously scanning his body, his heartbeat resounding so forcefully that it echoed audibly in the surrounding air.

"..." Desmond's anticipation grew, his breath held in suspense.

[Scan Complete!]

The revelation unfolded before him, and he read the details with intensity, his eyes scanning the information laid bare.

[-Status-

Name: Desmond

Gender: Male

Age: 10 years

Race: ???

Class: -

Occupation: None

Unique Energy: 0.00/52.78

Strength: 28.96 (115.84 ⇈)

Agility: 21.51 (86.04 ⇈)

Stamina: 1.0/10.43

Dragon Essence: 0

Active Skills:

- Power Boost

- Body Enhancement x4]