The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

After Desmond had absorbed the corpse's energy and gained a boost to his stats, the following day unfolded without any noteworthy events. Determined to make the most of his newfound abilities, he dedicated himself to tireless practice and immersed himself in a multitude of books, never venturing beyond the confines of his carriage.

As the days slipped away, Desmond's seclusion inside the carriage began to weigh heavily on Diana's heart. Anxious and disappointed by his unfulfilled promise, she waited patiently in her own carriage, casting longing glances towards his abode. However, all she could witness was the unchanging sight of his carriage, except for his maids occasionally fetching a bowl of water from a nearby waterfall.

Meanwhile, the soldiers and mercenaries who toiled tirelessly in the mines started showing unmistakable signs of exhaustion. Their relentless mining had taken a toll on their weary bodies, and they also noticed their dwindling food reserves.

Although their ceaseless efforts had yielded a staggering number of rocks, it became painfully clear that the remaining obstacles couldn't be cleared within a matter of days.

Yet, they dared not broach these concerns without explicit orders from their leaders or superiors. Frustrated, they gritted their teeth in annoyance and stifled the rumblings of their empty bellies.

As the radiant blue sky surrendered to the enshrouding darkness of night, the miners finally rested and ceased their labors. In one of the largest tents, three figures sat shrouded in shadows, their features obscured but intermittently illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Vesta, Veronica, and Ray, their expressions grim, occupied chairs surrounding a round table.

Resting atop the table was a drawing parchment displaying an image of the obstructed path, its details made visible by the faint glow.

Veronica, her garments tarnished by black dust, wore dark circles beneath her once-beautiful eyes. Five days had passed since they had begun their arduous task of clearing the main road, yet none of them felt any sense of accomplishment or excitement when confronted with the sheer quantity of rocks depicted on the parchment.

The fatigue etched on Veronica's face was mirrored by her companions. Vesta, their leader, sat with trembling hands, overwhelmed by the weight of his responsibilities, while Ray's handsome features had succumbed to the harsh conditions, his cheeks hollowed and his once-vibrant complexion sapped of life.

"Why the silence? Don't you realize that a woman's body is more delicate than a man's?" Veronica's voice, tinged with exhaustion and frustration, reverberated through the air. She punctuated her words with a forceful punch to the table, her fierce gaze fixed upon her companions.

Unquestionably, Veronica herself was weary. Despite her prowess as a 3rd-class swordsman, the physical demands on her feminine form were undeniable. However, after inhaling a fortifying breath, her anger subsided, and she beseeched her comrades, "My members are pleading with me to bring an end to this endeavor." Her gaze shifted between Vesta and Ray, desperately seeking a solution.

Vesta glanced at her, his features burdened with weariness, before releasing a protracted sigh. "As you can see, we have no other choice. Turning back now would only exacerbate the situation," he responded, his arms stretching in a gesture of helplessness. Despite being a Guardian and a 3rd-class Swordsman, they now stood on equal ground, confronted by the same perilous circumstances.

Courtesy could be cast aside when matters of life and death loomed before them.

Observing their simultaneous sighs, Vesta and Ray realized the futility of quarreling amongst themselves. They had been drawn into this predicament, and a twinge of regret settled within their hearts when they reminisced about their decision to assist Vesta.

As if the current situation wasn't dire enough, the thunderous sound of approaching hoofbeats pierced the air. The soldier stationed outside Vesta's tent hastily entered, his voice brimming with excitement. "S-Sir, we may have a new arrival!" he exclaimed, his days of desperation clouding his ability to think clearly, desperately hoping for reinforcements.

Having recently joined Vesta's private army, he had already experienced the hardships that accompanied their mission. Vesta's anger flared, and he barked at his bewildered subordinate, his frustration reaching its zenith. "What are you waiting for?!

Gather all the soldiers and prepare for battle!" His face flushed with rage, his emotions unrestrained after being trapped in this futile situation for days. "GO OUT! CALL THE OTHERS!"

Fearfully meeting Vesta's gaze, the soldier swiftly turned on his heels and left the tent to relay the urgent command. Ray, who had maintained silence throughout, suddenly spoke up. "I'll take my leave," he announced before promptly departing the tent. Upon hearing Ray's words, Veronica swiftly followed suit, departing for the same undisclosed purpose.

Gazing at the departing silhouettes of his comrades, Vesta shook his head with a mixture of resignation and disappointment. "A mercenary, always a mercenary," he murmured to himself. Retrieving his armor and fastening his sword to his waist, he exited the tent and made his way towards his awaiting carriage.

Simultaneously, Desmond, engrossed in his reading, perked up as he heard the commotion outside. Sitting upright, he approached the small window of his carriage. "Excellent, this will expedite our progress," he mused aloud, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. While others were gripped by fear and nervousness at the arrival of an unfamiliar individual, Desmond found himself invigorated.

After all, the approaching multitude of gray figures held no threat in Desmond's eyes. Observing the formation at the rear of the camp, a broad smile spread across his face.

However, upon noticing the sheer number of gray figures closing in, Desmond suddenly interjected, "Hmm, we should venture outside." His words left Laura and Annie, who had been preparing to sleep, thunderstruck, their eyes fixed upon him in disbelief.

"A person of high authority has arrived, and it is only proper that we extend our greetings and pay our respects," Desmond continued, lazily pointing a finger towards the small window as if reluctant to delve into the specifics. He then positioned himself in front of a mirror, his maids diligently tidying his attire and grooming his hair.

Gripping his sword that rested on his waist, he grasped the door handle.

Laura and Annie, well-prepared in advance, adorned themselves in noble-like attire, a stark departure from their usual garments. Desmond's outfit resembled that of a butler, a long black shirt extending to his hips, paired with matching trousers. Draped over his shoulders was a wolf fur, adding an air of distinction.

Laura and Annie, on the other hand, wore pristine white gowns adorned with black animal fur, enveloping their bodies from the breasts to the waist.

"Let us proceed," Desmond declared, swelling with pride at his choices. His maids, each of them radiating beauty that rivaled Diana's, accompanied him faithfully.