The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The sound of blood coursing through Desmond's neck and head was akin to bubbling water flowing in a serene river, accompanied by the gentle burst of bubbles. The process unfolded neither too slowly nor too swiftly. As the blood gradually formed the outer skin of his head, Desmond seized the opportunity to peruse the notifications that appeared before him, their urgency hanging in the air.

[WARNING!! Host's life force has begun to deplete!]

[System has detected an unknown energy enveloping all of the Host's organs!]

[Emergency actions initiated...]

[Sta...r...ti...ng @..!.]

[ERROR...]

[Host has perished!]

The reading of these notifications shook Desmond to his core. His soul quivered with a mix of shock and trepidation. Bracing himself, Desmond proceeded with caution, delving into the subsequent notifications that awaited his attention.

[Rebooting the system....]

[Access granted to Host 'Desmond']

[Re-analyzing Host's condition...]

As he awaited the recovery of his body, time seemed to languish in its passing, stretching the moments. Yet, Desmond found himself dumbfounded when he perused the history of notifications.

[Commencing restoration of data from previous encounter....]

[Date restored!]

[A new passive skill has been added to the list...]

[Name: Dragon Heart (Passive)]

[Info: The dragon's body is renowned as the most resilient in this realm. As long as its heart continues to beat, the body remains impervious to death, gradually healing through the utilization of natural energy. Not only are its scales impervious, but the heart itself is as unyielding as steel, requiring more than a single strike to bring it down.

However, the dragon's body is not invincible; with the loss of organs or body parts, it consumes life force.]

[Consumption: 6 months of life force per organ or body part]

Desmond's spirits soared as he absorbed the information. Yet, his elation was quickly replaced by a realization that cursed through his mind. "Fuck!" he exclaimed internally. Shifting his focus to the assassins, he discovered that they were already bellowing their orders.

"Attack the heart!" the assassins shouted, their intelligence evident as one of their comrades discerned that only the heart was safeguarded by the impenetrable scales, while the other areas remained vulnerable.

*Clank*

The ensuing battle erupted with increased brutality. Four assassins focused their assault on Desmond's heart, while the remainder sought to sever his limbs. Horror coursed through Desmond as he watched the relentless onslaught. Desperate to expedite his recovery, he attempted to hasten the process, only to find himself powerless to control this particular skill.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! How can I stop them?" Desmond's thoughts raged within his mind. Suddenly, a calming sensation enveloped him, soothing his frayed nerves and restoring equilibrium to his emotions.

As his body endured the assault and his life force dwindled once more, Desmond commenced scanning his adversaries, searching for their vulnerabilities. Time passed languidly, and he observed a noticeable shift in the assassins' demeanor—they showed signs of fatigue and fear. Nonetheless, this did not alter the harsh reality that his own recovery was progressing agonizingly slowly.

In a moment of epiphany, Desmond conceived an idea. He scrutinized his regenerating body and noticed that all five of his limbs were healing simultaneously. However, when the blood finally formed in his right hand, an assassin swiftly severed it, plunging Desmond into despair.

But from this setback, Desmond gleaned vital knowledge. What if he concentrated solely on restoring one limb at a time?

With renewed determination, Desmond focused his attention on his right foot. After all, this automatic skill was still under his control, wasn't it?

*Sprout*

The air filled with the symphony of numerous bubbles bursting. To his surprise, the blood that had been regenerating his head and other limbs abruptly halted, accompanied by a disconcerting crack emanating from his heart.

*Crack.*

The obsidian scales that had shielded Desmond's heart started to cascade down, one after another, until they littered the ground, unveiling a slightly crimson organ that twitched with an unsettling rhythm. As a gust of cold wind brushed against his exposed heart, Desmond felt a chilling sensation freeze his mind, yet his focus remained locked on his right foot.

"Hahaha! Finally, we can bring him peace!" exclaimed one of the assassins, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Let the Demon find his demise in peace!" cried out the other assassins with triumphant joy, their blades now poised to strike at the heart.

*Stomp.*

However, before their intentions could be realized, a thunderous roar echoed through the air, accompanied by the agonized screams of the assassins. Simultaneously, a wave of shattered glass hurtled towards them, sending the assailants hurtling backward in disarray.

"Ah!" The short-haired woman, who had been kneeling on the ground, was caught in the impact. Her alluring figure was sent airborne, her rear colliding with one of the fallen assassins.

"Ouch!" The wounded assassin groaned, spitting out a mouthful of blood. But as he opened his eyes, his gaze shamelessly fixated on the short-haired woman's posterior.

Meanwhile, a forceful foot stamped down on the floor, causing it to crack like a spider's web spreading towards the center of the open space. With each resounding stomp, blood surged forth from Desmond's limbless body, molding itself into the framework of his missing limbs.

"You vermin are truly vexing," a hoarse, ominous voice reverberated from the grounded assassins. Now, accompanying that voice were a pair of slitted magenta eyes that bored into their souls.

*Crack.*

Another bone-chilling crack resonated, followed by a slight thud as the figure landed on the floor, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air.

"Finally, my body is restored," Desmond spoke, his limbs initially feeling rigid before he gradually stretched each one, releasing the tension.

When his gaze settled upon the fallen assassins, he wore a self-satisfied smirk. "Well, well, what do we have here? A pack of second-rate swordsmen bullying a child who hasn't even reached the tender age of fifteen."

Upon hearing these words, the assassins seethed with rage, their desire to curse Desmond surging forth. They rose to their feet, assuming battle-ready stances as they warily locked eyes with the audacious youngster. However, as their gazes wandered to the stone chair, they discovered that the boy had vanished without a trace.

*Boom.*

In an instant, the nearby wall disintegrated, sending debris scattering throughout the area. Coughing, the assassins stood bewildered, their attention darting around cautiously as they clutched their swords with unwavering grip.

"You lot are so heartless, even in the face of a fallen comrade," Desmond spoke again, crimson droplets staining his fingertips. Casting a fleeting glance at the deceased assassins, he grinned.

As expected, the power of 100 stats, Desmond mused, disregarding the notification of absorption, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the remaining assassins.

In Desmond's eyes, the assassins gradually turned their heads, their waist joints creaking as they readied their swords, emanating a slight gust of wind with the sharpness of their tips.

Ah, this power... it's exhilarating! Desmond's grin faltered slightly as he noticed the short-haired woman staring at him with an unwavering determination.