The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The tranquil night was fated to crumble, its serenity shattered by the impending turmoil. Despite the chilling breeze that swept through the camp, it seemed to have no effect on the bustling activity of the people. They moved about in a frenzied frenzy, creating a swirling cloud of dust amidst the tents.

Their faces were etched with nervousness, their actions hurried, as if sensing the approach of imminent danger. Many among them hastily armed themselves before heading towards the rear of the camp.

Amidst the bustling chaos, not far from the camp, a young boy dressed in black emerged, accompanied by his two maids. Ward. The boy was none other than Desmond. As he beheld the scene before him, he wasted no time activating his spell. A tiny white ball materialized in mid-air, casting a radiant glow around his body.

Upon Desmond's arrival at the camp, the bustling crowd had vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence. A short distance away, at the edge of the camp, stood a group of individuals, their weapons aimed forward. Among them was Vesta, donned in full armor, with his daughter clinging to his side. Veronica and Ray exchanged perplexed glances at Vesta before diverting their attention back to the front.

Desmond, however, did not immediately approach them. Instead, he chanted an incantation, conjuring chairs and a table in the middle of the road, where he observed their actions intently.

"Young master?" Laura inquired, her voice laced with concern. The mercenaries and other camp inhabitants were preparing for battle. Should Desmond reveal the truth to them?

Although Desmond had mentioned the arrival of a person of high authority, the sight of their preparations and their expressions left Laura and Annie astounded. It felt as though they were bracing for an enemy assault, and yet the information seemed to have leaked, dooming any ambush to failure.

"Please, have a seat. We will proceed once the newcomer arrives," Desmond instructed, patting the chairs made of hardened earth on either side of him.

Despite being crafted from dirt, the chairs and table remained pristine, devoid of any stains. As Desmond contemplated these earthen creations, a small sense of accomplishment washed over him. As for why he chose not to stand alongside the others or disclose the truth...

"Imagine, after all their preparations, if someone were to suddenly announce that the newcomer is a friend. Their already strained state of mind, compounded by the scarcity of food...," Desmond trailed off, speaking not directly to Annie or Laura, but rather to himself. Yet, his words resonated deeply within their thoughts, lingering for a prolonged moment.

Though Desmond's information was vague, both Annie and Laura found solace in his words and actions. Their unwavering trust in him had been cultivated over a significant period of time. It never occurred to them to question how he obtained or possessed such knowledge, given his tendency to remain confined within the walls of his home, engrossed in books or honing his skills.

But one must remember that even the maids within their household knew better than to dig their own graves. Though they consisted of Witches and Swordsmen, they dutifully served as mere maids, guarding the secrets that lay within the walls of their young master's abode.

Only the older maid who accompanied their master knew the truth of the impending events. It served as a testament to the magnitude of what was about to unfold, while Laura and Annie found themselves unwitting pawns in the hands of their young master.

Meanwhile, Vesta stood with one hand gently patting his daughter's hair. His expression remained solemn, hindered by the confines of his helmet that concealed most of his face, with only his eyes exposed to the outside world. As the soldiers and mercenaries gazed upon him, an overwhelming and oppressive pressure descended upon them, weighing heavily on their bodies.

"This will be a difficult battle," Vesta muttered, a glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes as he surveyed the distant horizon where a group of horsemen approached, their figures shrouded in a veil of white light and shadow.

Nervousness permeated the air, causing some to tremble. The mercenaries, excluding the Steel Legion, exuded an atmosphere of gravity. From their appearance, it seemed they were to face their own kind, another human, as they had done countless times before.

Although they had no qualms about it, the weight of taking too many lives of their own race bore heavily upon them when the eyes of other races scrutinized their actions.

The sound of hooves and distant cries echoed through the air. With his remaining soldiers, Vesta feared he would be unable to protect the newly recruited individuals thrust into this perilous situation.

"In the first place, it was my mistake to bring them here. How could I have foreseen that we would face so many battles?" Vesta mused wryly, speaking to himself.

Upon hearing her father's words, Diana swiftly struck his waist in a playful yet resolute manner, shouting, "Don't be afraid, father! Remember, you always say that we should live without regrets!"

To everyone's surprise, her words served as a rallying cry, igniting courage within the hearts of those present. Even Vesta himself was taken aback by his daughter's unwavering spirit. Leaning towards her, he locked eyes with her fiery orange gaze.

After a brief pause, his gaze softened, and his hand instinctively caressed her cheek. "You possess a remarkable spirit, my daughter. It's a shame that you were born a woman," Vesta remarked with feigned regret. However, upon realizing the implications of his words, he hastily continued, "No, I should be grateful to have such a brave female warrior by my side! Hahaha!"

Diana, initially taken aback, swiftly transformed her expression into one of pride and excitement. Raising her head high, she declared, "With my father here, all of you will be safe!" Her chest swelled with pride, her enthusiasm palpable.

As the others listened to her words, they warmly regarded her petite figure, and soon laughter filled the air. One by one, chuckles resonated, causing the tense atmosphere to gradually dissipate. The sight of a daughter entrusting her faith in her father was enough to melt even the sternest hearts.

Meanwhile, the captain, witnessing Diana's display, smiled and remarked, "This is how a child should behave! Unlike the others, we all adore such endearing fluffiness!" His laughter, tinged with a hint of melancholy, echoed through the camp.

"Alright, everyone, prepare yourselves!" Vesta's voice boomed as the sound of horse hooves grew clearer. He swiftly ushered his daughter back to the safety of the camp.

However, he was taken aback upon seeing Desmond and his maids seated in the chairs, leisurely enjoying snacks. Vesta seethed with anger, ready to reprimand them for treating this as a mere child's playground. Yet, when he remembered his own intention to place his daughter there, he swallowed his fury, allowing it to dissipate in the face of his conflicting emotions.

"Boy, you better protect my daughter, or you'll face the consequences!" Vesta's words sliced through the air, accompanied by an intense glare directed at Desmond. With that, he swiftly turned on his heel, leaving behind a bewildered Diana.

Vesta's departure bore an air of urgency, a firm resolve to bring the battle to a swift conclusion. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving his precious daughter in the care of a young wolf.

Meanwhile, Desmond and his maids stood frozen in place, taken aback by Vesta's unexpected return solely to retrieve his daughter. Awkwardly, Desmond straightened himself and greeted Diana, "Hello, Miss Diana, we meet again." His maids mirrored his action, standing by his side as one of the earth chairs transformed back into mere dirt.