The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The next day arrived, painting the sky with hues of golden light as the sun's rays pierced through the veils of morning mist. Desmond, immersed in the depths of a wondrous dream, slumbered peacefully within the confines of the luxurious carriage.

"Let's GO!" Alas, his tranquil repose was destined to be disrupted by the clamor of excited voices that pierced through the carriage walls. Stirring reluctantly, Desmond groaned in annoyance, his drowsy eyes reluctantly fluttering open.

"Argh, who dares to disturb this serene morning?" he grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. As he surveyed his surroundings, he noticed his two maids standing on either side, their presence a gentle reminder of his responsibilities.

"Good morning, young master," greeted Laura, her voice filled with a melodic lilt. She carefully balanced a tray adorned with a delectable assortment of ice cream, accompanied by a light white wine. Although her nimble hands busied themselves with arranging the breakfast delicacies before him, her eyes remained fixated on his countenance, attuned to his every emotion.

"It appears the princess has resolved the food shortage, and the additional manpower has invigorated the people," Annie explained, her voice carrying a soothing undertone as she diligently tidied up the pillows, banishing the intrusive dust particles. Her explanation aimed to appease Desmond's irritation.

Upon hearing this, a faint glimmer of contentment crept upon Desmond's previously annoyed features. "That's how it should be," he muttered, savoring a scoop of the chilled ice cream that caressed his palate, sending shivers of pleasure through his being.

He quenched his thirst with a sip of the crisp white wine, its taste enveloping him in a momentary state of bliss, observed attentively by his dedicated maids.

Having finished his breakfast, Desmond rose from his bed, gracefully transitioning to the floor, where he commenced a series of vigorous push-ups as part of his morning exercise routine.

Observing this, Laura fetched a pristine white towel from a storage box in the living room, while Annie diligently attended to the remnants of breakfast, skillfully removing any lingering food stains that dared to mar her master's sanctuary.

Following his exercise regimen and honing his sword skills, Desmond retreated to his beloved realm of knowledge—the realm of books. Fiction and history intertwined as he delved into tales of mythical wonder and the rich tapestry of the world's past. Days drifted by, with Desmond seldom venturing beyond the confines of his carriage since the arrival of the princess.

And so, two days slipped away, with the monumental task of clearing the obstructive rocks on the main path finally reaching its triumphant conclusion. Cheers erupted, and jubilant celebrations echoed through the air.

However, in the midst of the morning revelry, a soldier knocked on Desmond's door, delivering news of an invitation from Elizabeth—the princess—requesting his presence at her evening soirée.

Naturally, he declined the invitation. The mere presence of Clark, his loyal companion, was enough to foretell a cascade of troublesome events should he attend the festivities.

...

The next morning, the same soldier returned, rapping on Desmond's door once more, bearing news of the resumption of their journey. Elation coursed through Desmond's veins as he absorbed this welcome information. Suddenly, recollections of the previous day's invitation surged to the forefront of his mind, compelling him to question the soldier.

As his inquiries unfolded, Desmond's suspicions were confirmed. The celebration had proceeded without him, culminating in the unexpected alliance between Gregory and Clark after a fierce and spirited challenge. However, the soldier's expression darkened as he relayed the situation, betraying a sense of dismay.

The presence of Clark had already been a thorn in the side of the soldiers, and now the well-mannered boy they had rescued appeared to be tainted by the brash demeanor of that insolent lad.

A disgusted look marred the soldier's countenance as he recounted how shamelessly Gregory had fawned over the princess and Clark, his words dripping with insincerity. The soldier and his fellow mercenaries were disheartened, realizing that the true nature of the mother-son duo differed greatly from their initial perceptions.

Disappointment settled upon their hearts, compelling them to distance themselves from the pair during the forthcoming journey.

After expressing his gratitude to the soldier for sharing the information, Desmond closed the door, and the carriage swiftly embarked on its journey, traversing the valley with ease, without encountering any remnants of the once obstructing rocks.

As they ventured past the rocky terrain, a breathtaking expanse of grassy plains unfolded before their eyes, adorned with towering trees standing proudly at the heart of the landscape. Along the way, numerous farmers greeted them, their warm smiles reflecting the simplicity and earnestness of their livelihoods.

Children, their laughter resonating through the air, paused their playful activities to witness the passage of the carriages.

Cognizant of the young and vulnerable onlookers, the soldiers raised their voices, issuing warnings to ensure that the delicate, innocent children would not be inadvertently harmed by the galloping horses.

The scene spoke volumes about the city they approached. Despite its notorious reputation for high crime rates and rumored affiliations with sinister organizations, it was evident that someone skillfully governed the city, transforming it into an enclave that bore the semblance of a grand capital rather than a haven for criminals.

Meanwhile, Desmond's gaze fixated on the nearing view of Helmfirth city, his awe ignited by the sight of vast land floating in the sky. Even from a few kilometers away, the majestic walls of the city, the first human settlement, stood imposingly, capturing his imagination.

"Woahhh," he gasped in wonder, his eyes shimmering like stardust as they remained transfixed on the airborne land, enshrouded by clouds. In his mind, the scene evoked imagery reminiscent of a captivating scene from a Chinese novel.

Eventually, as the carriages approached the city's towering walls, Desmond peered through the window, only to be met by the shroud of darkness enveloping the path ahead. Their carriage found its place in the rear, while commoners patiently queued for their turn to enter the city.

Perched atop the walls, numerous soldiers, unarmed but formidable in their magical prowess, diligently kept watch. Many among them were first-class Wizards and Witches, their presence serving as a bulwark against potential internal threats, sudden attacks from rival kingdoms, or the encroachment of fearsome creatures.

However, as their eyes fell upon the princess's carriage, bearing its distinctive symbol, Desmond observed a display of utmost respect from the soldiers stationed atop the walls. Each soldier saluted in unison, a gesture mirrored by the guards stationed at the city's entrance, who promptly ushered the carriages through with utmost priority.

As the soldiers guided the carriages past the waiting line, Desmond couldn't help but notice the reverence with which the commoners regarded the princess. However, some cast fleeting glances in his direction, harboring ill intentions for a moment before withdrawing into the anonymity of the crowd.

Aware of their gaze, Desmond fearlessly locked eyes with those who dared to challenge him, causing them to retreat, shrinking back into the safety of the bustling masses. "Trouble already finds me upon my arrival," Desmond coolly remarked, his voice carrying a chilling undertone, as he continued to study the maps. He had already commanded his system to mark those who had been observing him.

"Wait until I settle my affairs. You will be the first to receive my visit," he declared with a sly grin. The memory of the power he had gained after absorbing the Shapeshifter filled his eyes with a voracious greed.

In the past, Desmond had feared losing control over his emotions when assimilating too much of another person's essence. However, with the mighty black dragon as his ally, such concerns had diminished. Though his desire to vanquish his enemies burned fiercely within him, he prioritized his main goal above all else. "All this power is worthless until I achieve the rank of a first-class Dragon Slayer."

Desmond turned his attention to a book containing a comprehensive guide from the academy, which outlined the necessary steps to achieve his goal. The crucial item he sought could only be obtained from the academy, a place where students were rewarded based on a point system.

His ultimate objective was to become a first-class Dragon Slayer, and the system informed him that he needed to acquire the corpse of a Beast race, specifically a subtype of Dragon, as well as two B Rank Gifted Potions.

While Desmond lacked detailed knowledge about the B Rank Gifted Potion, he understood that it was a potent elixir capable of propelling a wizard or witch into the realm of a first-class practitioner—an aspiration shared by many within the academy.

"They say acquiring those potions requires a substantial number of points, and only the academy has the means to produce them," Desmond contemplated aloud. Were it not for the academy's restrictions, he would have simply purchased the potions directly from the staff, bypassing the need to enroll as a student.

Lost in thought, Desmond suddenly recalled, "Ohh, my sister is also studying here." A faint smile graced his lips as he envisioned the ethereal presence of his elder sister. It had been four long years since they last laid eyes on each other, and he couldn't help but wonder how her beauty had blossomed and what kind of character she had developed during their time apart.