The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The scorching sunlight beat down relentlessly, casting a searing heat upon the weary soldiers who trudged through the battlefield, their comrades' lifeless bodies in tow. The mournful cawing of crows pierced the air, their beady eyes fixated on the fallen soldiers, awaiting their chance to scavenge the remains once the humans had departed.

In the tented area, a row of small tents stood with military precision. Among them, two tents stood out, proudly displaying flags that fluttered in the breeze, signaling the presence of Ray and Veronica. Their mercenary companions gathered around, engaged in animated conversation, their voices filled with a mix of pride and camaraderie.

They regaled each other with tales of their exploits, boasting of the damage they had inflicted upon the dragon-like creature. Meanwhile, Ray and Veronica stood apart, their expressions solemn, their hands gesturing with gravity as they engaged in a discussion.

"Ms. Veronica and Mr. Ray, the Guardian wishes to see you in his tent," a soldier from the kingdom interjected suddenly, his voice tinged with nervousness. The longstanding animosity between the Guild and the kingdom's army made him uneasy as he spoke.

Ray's gaze turned icy as he retorted, "Is that an order?" The soldier felt a chill crawl up his spine, causing the hair on his nape to stand on end.

"N... no, it's a request. You both are citizens of this kingdom, and our Guardian seeks your assistance in discussing a mission," the soldier stammered, his hurried words causing him to accidentally bite his tongue, intensifying his appearance of resentment towards them.

Exchanging a glance, Veronica and Ray acknowledged each other's silent understanding. Ray waved his hand dismissively at the soldier, and they made their way towards Vesta's tent.

As they arrived at the entrance, the soldier issued a hushed command before allowing them to enter. Stepping inside, they beheld Vesta seated on a humble chair, his fingers tightly gripping a wooden stick. A large table dominated the space, covered with an expansive parchment bearing intricate drawings that held a sense of familiarity to Ray and Veronica.

"Guardian," they greeted respectfully, their heads slightly bowed. Ever since the rebellion, the absence of nobles in the kingdom had brought joy to the commoners' hearts. Only the king warranted formal salutations, while others, such as ministers, grandmasters, and guardians, were acknowledged by their title or position alone.

Vesta lifted his head, his eyes taking note of their deferential demeanor. Nodding approvingly, he gestured for them to approach. "As you may have already surmised, I have dispatched my men to scout the valley, striving to recreate the circumstances with utmost accuracy," he began.

Pointing to the path obstructed by a jumble of massive rocks with his wooden staff, Vesta continued, "This is the predicament we face. I require your insights to solve this quandary. After all, you accepted this mission with the intention of returning swiftly, did you not?"

Ray's handsome face twitched with a hint of consternation, while the graceful arch of Veronica's brow furrowed thoughtfully. They were mercenaries, not scholars, and despite their wisdom and leadership experience, their most immediate solution would be to simply turn around and seek an alternative route. Right?

Seemingly aware of their unspoken response, Vesta interjected, "If it were that simple, I would have given the order for you to leave. However, considering the importance of the academy's recruitment, I cannot afford to delay that young man's registration."

Their expressions darkened, and Ray and Veronica locked their glares onto Vesta simultaneously. Despite their respect for him, not only for his strength and noble actions, they had their limits. They were not part of the kingdom's army and had their own boundaries.

While individually their strength might be weaker than Vesta's, together they formed a formidable force that he couldn't easily prevent from leaving, especially considering his soldiers were already fatigued. Even with Vesta's prowess as a first-class swordsman, he would find it impossible to stop them.

The worst-case scenario would be a slight dent in their reputation and the need to compensate Vesta with some gold coins. However, that was a better outcome than being stuck in this place, wasting precious time when their members were already mentally exhausted.

Building a reliable mercenary group required astute judgment of their comrades' well-being, combat capabilities, and the risks associated with the missions they undertook.

If it were before Selena's tragic demise, perhaps Veronica would have been inclined to assist Vesta. But there was no room for "ifs" now, and her mood had already soured due to the appearance of the shapeshifter and the presence of some bloodthirsty killers.

Observing their unwilling expressions, Vesta knew his efforts were in vain. He inwardly sighed, exiting the tent and casting his gaze upon the sight of Helmfirth city, which lay not too far away.

...

Inside his carriage, Desmond's body contorted as he engaged in a rigorous exercise routine. Beads of sweat dripped from his tense form, falling onto the floor. "One... Two... Three..." he breathed out, his movements growing faster.

A short distance away, Laura and Annie watched his exertions calmly. Laura held a towel while Annie carried a tray of food.

Desmond's chest was bare, exposing his muscular physique as he performed push-ups to further challenge his body. After the harrowing life-and-death battle he had experienced, he felt compelled to push himself even harder physically.

Simultaneously, Desmond often caught glimpses of a faint, transparent layer overlaying his vision, indicating that his stats were gradually increasing. A smile formed on his lips in response.

After several minutes, Desmond dropped his body to the floor with a satisfied thumb. The floor around him was damp with his perspiration.

"Young master," Laura bent down, her ample bosom hovering beside his face. She wiped his back with the towel, starting from his legs and moving up to his neck.

Taking a brief rest, Desmond waited for Laura to finish wiping away the sweat on his back before settling himself on the floor. His gaze landed on Laura as she wiped the perspiration off his chest, her cheeks slightly flushed with shyness.

Desmond even caught the tempting scent of her sweetness and felt the warmth of her breath. Her movements were swift, possibly fueled by her own bashfulness, as she quickly turned away, with Annie promptly offering him a cup of tea.

"Thank you," Desmond spoke, taking a sip of the tea. Annie's physique was no less remarkable than Laura's. If Laura was likened to a beautiful flower blooming in a garden, then Annie was the sharp thorn—cool and indifferent.

After giving his body a moment's respite, Desmond rose to his feet and retrieved his sword. He motioned for Annie and Laura to give him some space. Swinging the blade, he felt a surge of power, creating a gust of wind that sliced into the wooden floor, leaving a deep mark.

Puzzled, Desmond couldn't recall using any specific skills or channeling energy. He glanced at Annie and Laura, finding them gazing at him with curiosity etched on their faces.

His face twitched with uncertainty. Taking a seat on the floor, he called upon the system to check his current status.