The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"D-Desmond? What on earth are you doing in here?" Her eyes widened in surprise as they fell upon the earthly chair and table. She turned around, her gaze locking onto her father, who stood amidst his subordinates. "D-don't tell me you've been sitting here, merely observing us as we face death, without any intention of lending a hand?!" Her voice quivered with a mix of shock and accusation.

Though she couldn't be called a genius, her brain quickly processed the situation by noting the distance between Desmond and the group. And coupled with the presence of the chair and table he had fashioned, it became apparent that if he wasn't there to watch them, then what was his purpose?

As these thoughts raced through her mind, her eyes narrowed, revealing a hint of disgust. Despite her father's claims of strength, she couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, observing his nonchalant demeanor. The incident shattered her belief that all strong individuals possessed a kind heart and a hero's soul, just like her father.

On the other hand, Desmond's extended hand went numb as her words echoed in his ears. His expression changed, morphing into indifference.

"What a thoughtless girl," Desmond thought to himself, retracting his hand. "If she were thrust into battle, she'd be the first one to meet her demise." His eyes reflected this sentiment.

"I suppose you fail to comprehend why your father placed you here, don't you?" Desmond spoke, a mocking smirk playing on the corner of his mouth.

Almost in response to his words, the chair behind him and the table in front of him liquefied, reverting back to ordinary dirt, as he activated his spell.

Ward.

A tiny ball began to materialize in mid-air, hovering above his shoulder. Gradually, it grew in size until it illuminated the area with a radiant white light, completing the process.

"Just remain here and adhere to your father's instructions, or join me in greeting our newest arrival," Desmond stated, immediately setting off toward the group, accompanied by his maids.

Meanwhile, Diana remained rooted in her spot, refusing to turn her back. Her mind struggled to process what she had just witnessed—another incredible display unfolding before her eyes.

Desmond, the person she so desperately longed to surpass and the one who stirred her heart with such intensity, had effortlessly activated a spell without uttering a single incantation.

Had it not been for his cold and heartless demeanor towards her, she would have found it hard to believe. Helplessness began to fill her heart, overwhelming her.

Once her senses returned, she found Desmond already departing with his maids, heading towards the battlefield. The memory of the unwavering confidence in his eyes lingered within her, as if he trusted her father's subordinates and mercenaries completely.

She turned around, her mind swaying with uncertainty. Should she follow him? Yet, her father's orders held sway over her, and she dared not disobey. After all, he had made this decision with her safety in mind.

But...

"What are you doing?" Her eyes squeezed shut, she bellowed with every ounce of her being, causing Desmond's group to halt in their tracks.

Though Desmond appeared callous and had been distant towards her, her heart simply couldn't bear witnessing his demise on the battlefield or hearing news of his death.

For a brief moment, when Diana opened her eyes and caught sight of Desmond still standing in his spot, a surge of joy welled up within her. She yearned to reach out and grasp him, but her elation was short-lived as Desmond resumed his march towards the battlefield. Overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, she sank to her knees, her tear-filled eyes helplessly fixed on his retreating figure.

...

On the other hand, as the distant sound of horse hooves grew closer, a solemn expression settled upon the faces of the approaching figures, their forms illuminated by a multitude of white lights. Their weapons were held steady now, in stark contrast to before, and their gaze fixated on the shadowy presence of the newcomer.

After what felt like an eternity, the white lights finally touched down nearby, revealing a group of soldiers mounted on horses, fully clad in their resplendent armor.

"Identify yourselves! State your purpose!" bellowed one of Vesta's subordinates, his voice reverberating through the air. Despite being within the North Kingdom, conflicts between kingdoms persisted, and it was not uncommon for enemy soldiers to trespass across borders, abducting or enchanting unsuspecting citizens.

"Huh?" Vesta, who stood at the rear, was taken aback when he caught sight of the newcomer's armor pattern and color. It felt oddly familiar, triggering a sudden realization that jolted through his mind. "Lower your weapons!" he urgently commanded.

The soldiers and the newcomer alike were taken aback by Vesta's sudden order, but the newcomer was quick to grasp the situation, as he too recognized the familiar pattern on their armor.

...

Meanwhile, as Desmond arrived at the battlefield, he found all the soldiers had already sheathed their weapons, forming a line with a clear separation between the soldiers and mercenaries. The sight left Desmond dumbfounded. He had casually speculated that the newcomer must possess significant authority, but he hadn't expected it to turn out true.

In truth, Desmond was only aware that the newcomer was a friend based on their previous interaction. His assertion of the newcomer's high authority towards his maids was merely deduced from the number of gray dots on his map. After all, not everyone in the kingdom possessed the means to hire numerous mercenaries for leisurely travel, not even wealthy merchants.

Simultaneously, as the group split into two, a clear path opened up vertically, providing a direct and unobstructed view towards the front and, coincidentally, exposing Desmond and his maids' presence.

When Vesta, Ray, Veronica, and all the soldiers, including the mercenaries, caught sight of Desmond, astonishment and shock painted their faces. It appeared as though Desmond was already aware of the newcomer's identity. However, while the gazes of the crowd fixated on him, Desmond's attention was solely drawn to the magnificent royal carriage stationed at the center.

He paid little heed to the prying eyes as he turned his focus towards Vesta, who stood near the carriage door.

"Show respect to the princess!" Vesta's commanding voice rang out as the soldiers fell into line, bowing in unison before the newcomer.

As the words echoed through the air, the sound of a door opening reached their ears, revealing a teenage girl with silky golden hair gracefully stepping off the carriage. She donned an elegant blue ocean dress, exuding an aura of freshness and calmness that perfectly matched her royal status. Adorned with white stockings and gloves, she emanated an air of regality befitting her lineage.