The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Vesta turned his gaze towards Desmond, finding him fixated and eagerly awaiting his response. Just then, a cough escaped Vesta's lips, and he proceeded to speak, his voice resonating in the air. "Alright, I appreciate your cooperation. Rest assured, I will ensure you arrive at the academy before the registration period concludes."

"I understand. Thank you for everything," Desmond replied as he observed Vesta slouching in his chair, his hand gently massaging his forehead while his eyes wandered aimlessly across the ceiling. With a nod from Vesta, Desmond took his leave, exiting the room.

As Desmond emerged from the tent accompanied by his maids, he surveyed his surroundings, only to realize that the captain and Diana were nowhere to be found. "Ah, it seems that girl lacks experience with men," Desmond remarked, lifting his gaze to the heavens.

The once serene blue sky had now transformed into a warm canvas of orange sunlight, prompting him to make his way towards his waiting carriage.

"I never anticipated that money and pride could resolve the issue," Desmond muttered under his breath as he journeyed onwards. The memory of the agreement with the mercenaries, especially Ray, brought a sense of amusement. "Perhaps it is the age we live in, where a man's words carry weight, and his pride shapes his future. They can boldly assert themselves this way."

"If they were to exist in my previous world, they would undoubtedly be the first ones to be exploited or sacrificed," Desmond added, a tinge of sadness flickering in his eyes. Haunting memories began to replay in his mind, but he forcefully shook his head, refusing to dwell on them. "Maybe one day, I can return," he mused, longing evident in his voice.

Despite being born into wealth and power, blessed with a kind and beautiful older sister, Desmond couldn't deny that his soul belonged to another world. Ultimately, he would forever remain alone. Now he comprehended the sentiments of the protagonists he had encountered in the novels he had read.

Humans were inherently social beings; they couldn't endure prolonged loneliness. The path of solitude was arduous, forcing one to abandon their family and closest friends, even risking the loss of their own emotions. "But such a fate only applies to humans," Desmond continued, a smirk curling on his lips.

Suddenly, the sorrow he had felt dissipated, replaced by a mixture of pride and resentment towards humanity.

Judging by his current circumstances, it seemed the Black Dragon residing within him responded to his words, its presence stirring within. On the other hand, Laura and Annie found themselves conflicted as they observed their young master's expressions.

For a moment, he appeared as an unapproachable individual, as if invisible barriers surrounded him, only to revert to his usual self, his eyes brimming with determination.

They exchanged a fleeting glance, realizing that even after several years, they had yet to fully understand his complex nature. At times, he showed kindness towards his subordinates, while other instances revealed a rational individual skilled in negotiations. And yet, there were moments when he transformed into a remorseless murderer, dispatching his foes without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to Annie and Laura, their perception of their young master as a typical affluent teenager with a peculiar hobby would have shattered had they witnessed his negotiations, merciless killings, and the underground experiments conducted beneath their very home. Lost in their thoughts, they failed to notice the pained expression etched on Desmond's face, his forehead veins pulsating.

The following morning, the camp bustled with activity as soldiers armed with pickaxes made their way towards the blocked path. At the forefront, the leader of the mercenaries and Vesta stood with folded arms, their brows furrowed in concern. Despite their preparations, disappointment crept over them as they watched the soldiers struggle to instantly break through the rocks.

The sheer number of obstacles suggested that it would take five days, even with the combined strength of the soldiers and the Corps of Teleknights. If they pooled their efforts, perhaps it could be reduced to three days. However, that wasn't the main concern; the real issue lay in the continuous battles they would face after traveling for another month.

Initially, they had not anticipated such a prolonged and arduous mission, resulting in their dwindling food supplies.

Not far from their location, Diana sat near her carriage, a soldier standing guard beside her. Her eyes darted to the other carriages where Desmond and his maids rested. Yesterday, she had been unable to meet him face to face alongside her father. She loathed her own cowardice, yet her body remained rooted in place. Shyness overwhelmed her, prompting her to retreat to her carriage with the captain.

Now, all she wished for was a chance to encounter Desmond and engage in a conversation, setting aside Laura's provocation and her previous thoughts of challenging him. All she yearned for was a personal meeting to calm her restless heart.

Meanwhile, inside Desmond's carriage, Laura meticulously swept away the dust from the bookshelf using a small broomstick, while Annie prepared a set of tea. After yesterday's negotiations, Desmond could be seen incessantly swinging his wooden sword in the middle of the room. His bare upper body exposed his chiseled abs and muscular arms.

"One... Two..." Desmond muttered, his focus fixated solely on the rhythmic movement of the sword. Beads of sweat dripped from his body, moistening the wooden floor beneath him. It was as if his mind was solely occupied by the art of swordplay.

*Crack!*

The sound of splintering wood resonated through the carriage, accompanied by a sudden crack forming a web-like pattern across the floor beneath Desmond's feet. The maids glanced at each other, their actions suggesting that scenes like these had become a daily occurrence, while Desmond himself felt a tinge of disappointment.

"Ah... for the first time, I don't feel good about gaining sudden strength," Desmond cursed inwardly, his frustration stemming from his inability to control his newfound power after a night of intense training.

Desmond could feel the stiffness in his bones from the relentless training, his body aching with exhaustion. Dark circles formed prominently under his eyes, evidence of the toll his intense regimen had taken. His arms trembled uncontrollably, and finally, he released his grip on the wooden sword, causing his backside to collide with the floor in a thud.

Fortunately, he had managed to restrain his newfound strength during the negotiations, but the aftermath had left him in considerable discomfort. The strain on his body was now evident, a consequence of his relentless pursuit of power.

His decision to train within the confines of the carriage was not born out of embarrassment concerning his physique in comparison to Gregory or other mercenaries. Rather, it stemmed from his discomfort with the lecherous gazes directed at his maids. Yesterday had been tolerable as he had not stayed outside for long, but the thought of enduring more unwarranted advances was intolerable.

Bringing along such alluring women was akin to inviting trouble.

=== Weekly Challenge!! ===

1. 700 Power Stones  = +1 Illustration(Character/Scene)

2. 1400 Power Stones  = +1 Illustration(Character/Scene)

3. 2100 Power Stones  = +1 Illustration(Character/Scene)

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