The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond stood tall, his voice filled with unwavering confidence as he addressed the guards and maids, spreading his arms wide to assert his authority and command their attention. The resounding *rumble**rumble* of the trembling floor startled the maids from their slumber, causing the once pristine carpet to become disheveled.

Bewilderment etched across the faces of the guards as they observed their young master's peculiar actions. Unbeknownst to them, a glint flickered in the old man's eyes, his excitement mounting. He never dared to dream that the son of his master possessed such remarkable talents—a formidable aura capable of instilling fear, now coupled with the promise of wizardry.

With an intense focus, the old man's gaze finally settled on the ground before him, which cracked and shattered into myriad pieces. From the very depths of the earth, dirt ascended, transforming into a colossal table adorned with numerous blunt-tipped structures. Yet the process did not cease with the completion of the table.

The blunt tips seemed to possess a life force of their own as they melded together, morphing into a replica of every building in the bustling Market District.

With a deft flick of his fingers, Desmond breathed life into the inert structures, revealing an intricate representation akin to a meticulously crafted map. The guards and the old man stood in awe, their mouths agape, their gazes alternating between the vast table and Desmond himself, as if unable to reconcile the astonishing sight before them.

Meanwhile, Desmond, his hand thoughtfully resting upon his chin, meticulously scrutinized every minute detail he had conjured. His body inclined, one eye closed, as he sought to grasp every intricacy. "Impressive," he murmured in satisfaction, his gaze then shifting towards the guards and the old man.

*flick*

Desmond's fingers danced once more, jolting the guards and the old man from their reverie. "With this, you shall remember the enemy's location. Now, allow me to illustrate the difference." His magic wove through the air, conjuring a gentle breeze that encircled a specific tavern.

"We shall strike as a united front. Exercise patience and await my signal. Initially, you shall gather and conceal yourselves in proximity to the designated location," Desmond instructed, subtly concealing a slender staff that pointed towards one of the taverns.

"I shall divide you into groups of ten—a force sufficient to vanquish these vermin, wouldn't you agree?" Desmond glanced at the guards, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

As anticipated, determination and a renewed sense of purpose ignited within the guards upon hearing their young master's words. Despite his tender age, none dared to challenge or question his authority. Perhaps it was due to a lingering secret tied to the old man or the malevolent organization at hand.

A guard, approximately twenty years old with cascading yellow locks that kissed the nape of his neck, spoke up—a glimmer of intelligence coupled with a rebellious streak in his eyes. "A valid query, young master. After all, the enemy's strongholds are scattered, some even at a considerable distance. How will you know when we have arrived at our respective targets?"

"A commendable question," Desmond acknowledged with a nod, even as his youth contrasted with the guards' experience. None dared to challenge his orders, perhaps due to a hidden truth entwined with the old man or the ominous organization they faced.

Desmond regarded the young man before him before redirecting his gaze to the assembled group. "I possess a method that will enable me to discern your arrival at the designated location," he declared, his words accompanied by a deliberate surge of energy that tingled against their skin.

"Whoa! Truly, young master, you are an exceptional wizard!"

"To exhibit such prodigious talent at such a tender age! Even the young master from the imperial empire pales in comparison to ours!"

One by one, their sycophantic tendencies came to the fore, causing Desmond to shake his head. Although he couldn't fault them for expressing admiration, their effusive praise had grown wearisome over time.

As the accolades continued, Desmond discreetly made contact with the system, which promptly marked down their positions, transforming their indicators into a distinct shade of blue.

[Scanning individuals as variables...]

[All data pertaining to these individuals has been stored!]

[Locking their positions and utilizing an additional slot to display real-time coordinates on the map...]

Gradually, Desmond could discern blue dots materializing on the corner of his visual display, while his own indicator transitioned to green. He didn't have to wait long before a single blue dot appeared, followed swiftly by more than fifty, until the screen was awash with a multitude of blue dots. The density made it challenging to discern the buildings and overall situation depicted on the map.

Before Desmond could intervene and modify the command, the system autonomously consolidated the blue dots into a unified entity, then split them into five distinct blue dots.

Excellent! Another automated function I had yet to discover, Desmond thought, impressed by the unexpected efficiency. Satisfied with the map's display, he redirected his focus towards the guards, only to find them still extolling his virtues as if he were a deity among men.

Speechless, Desmond took a deep breath before raising his voice in a commanding tone, "Enough!" His words resonated within the confines of the house, instantly redirecting everyone's attention back to him.

Taking control of his magic once more, Desmond summoned natural energy into his palm, gradually shaping it into a pulsating red light that emanated a searing heat. "This shall serve as your signal to initiate the attack," he proclaimed, the fiery glow in his palm transforming into a double-crossed blade of flames.

"Keep your gaze fixed upon the heavens," Desmond instructed, locking eyes with the young man among the guards. "You shall assume a position of leadership, and henceforth, your code name shall be Mikey."

Expecting the young guard to express reservations or decline the responsibility, Desmond was taken aback when the guard responded with enthusiasm. "Yes, young master!" The young guard's countenance radiated delight as he bowed respectfully before Desmond, appearing poised and prepared as though he had anticipated being chosen.

Wh-what?! Desmond found himself momentarily speechless, yet he maintained a composed exterior, silently nodding in acknowledgment.

Little did Desmond know that these guards had been trained under the watchful eye of the old man, each possessing the potential to lead a small gang.

"Excellent. Let us wait a little longer. Remember, should you encounter a soldier or a civilian, the choice to subdue or eliminate the civilian rests with you. However, the soldier must be eliminated at any cost!" His final words were delivered with solemnity as he fixed an unwavering gaze upon them.

"Furthermore, if a civilian has witnessed your actions, they too must be silenced," he added, his tone unyielding.

Haunted by suspicions that had begun to circulate within the capital city, Desmond understood the grave implications of any onlookers witnessing his subordinates' interactions with the nefarious Evil organization. Such misconceptions could lead to his family being implicated and subjected to unwelcome interrogations.

Having imparted his final instructions, Desmond flicked his fingers once more, causing the colossal table to revert to the earth from which it had emerged. Simultaneously, a fresh mound of dirt rose, forming a smaller, more portable replica that he intended to share with the guards.

Feeling mentally drained, Desmond sought solace on the steps, sinking down to rest his weary body. With a gentle massage of his temples, he lamented the havoc he had wreaked upon the floor and the disarray he had caused to the carpet. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he contemplated the monetary compensation that those responsible for the damage ought to provide.

In the midst of his musings, Desmond felt a comforting hand materialize behind him, tenderly kneading his tense back. "Ah, that's good," he moaned, recognizing the soothing touch of Laura. Meanwhile, his eyes landed upon Annie, who approached carrying a plate adorned with a delicate glass of wine.