The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"Where am I?" Desmond pondered to himself, his voice barely a whisper amidst the perplexing scene that unfolded before him. What greeted his bewildered gaze was a peculiar flat world, split in half - one portion consumed by an inky darkness, while the other shimmered in an ethereal whiteness.

The landscape stretched out like a vast expanse of hardened, serene water, devoid of any discernible structure or form. The once-familiar tavern, its structure, chairs, and even the lifeless bodies he had expected to find, had all vanished, as if they had never existed.

Strangely, the denizens of this enigmatic world could perceive one another, bathed in an otherworldly luminescence that illuminated their forms. But there was something eerie, something profoundly unsettling about this place. The absence of any scent or the whisper of a breeze lent an air of detachment, as if this realm existed entirely apart from the familiar physical realm.

The luxurious tavern had been transmuted into a surreal black and white plane, bearing the unmistakable signature of a powerful dimension spell. It was as though someone had manipulated the very fabric of reality itself.

*Clank* *Clank*

Amidst the disconcerting silence, the jarring clash of metal meeting unyielding objects reverberated incessantly through this uncanny world. Desmond shifted his gaze to the left, where the flat expanse transformed into a murky abyss of darkness. Two figures engaged in a fierce battle, one of them being Felix.

Beads of perspiration glistened on Felix's furrowed brow, his countenance etched with determination as he clutched his longsword tightly.

Facing him stood a middle-aged man with long, dark-purple tresses, his agile form gracefully evading Felix's lethal strikes. Yet, when the sword finally found its mark, it passed through the middle-aged man's body as if it were naught but an illusory apparition. Before Felix could react, he swiftly dodged backward, narrowly avoiding an impending danger.

A hand, seemingly composed of darkness itself, materialized in the space where Felix had stood moments ago, clapping audibly as it collided with empty air.

It was a close call. Had Felix not evaded that strike, he would have surely sustained grievous injuries. Meanwhile, the middle-aged man transformed into a quivering, ebony liquid, its inky essence slithering toward the waiting hands, merging seamlessly with them. The amalgamation of hand and liquid gradually coalesced, resuming the appearance of the middle-aged man.

A grim expression settled upon his face as he extended his hands forward, harnessing the natural energy surrounding him to spawn yet another replica of himself.

"Hehehe," the middle-aged man cackled wickedly, the sound dripping with malice, as five identical copies of him stood in sinister unity.

Observing the fierce confrontation, Desmond exuded a sense of confidence in his subordinate. "No matter how I look at it, that must be the boss," he mused silently. The disconcerting darkness and the haunting familiarity of the voice he had heard in the past aligned perfectly with the middle-aged man before him. However, a sneer danced across Desmond's features as he contemplated the situation.

Though Felix appeared weathered and frail, his lower face concealed by the shroud of black fabric, Desmond knew better than to underestimate the strength and resilience of a fourth-class swordsman. Their true potential remained an enigma, much like Vesta, who had miraculously survived being crushed beneath a deluge of colossal rocks.

What chance did an adversary stand against a fourth-class swordsman, a rank above Vesta's own?

Yet, as Desmond shifted his attention to his right, his nonchalant expression morphed into a frown of concern. In the expanse of pristine white, Laura and Annie appeared to engage in a harrowing battle against an unseen foe. Each movement they made resulted in fresh lacerations forming on their flesh, a testament to the invisible threat that assailed them from the shadows.

Blood trickled from Laura's right eye, momentarily blinding her. Her back bore the painful evidence of multiple dagger wounds, each piercing deep into her flesh. Annie, on the other hand, clenched her dagger with a lone hand, the other cruelly torn away, leaving behind tattered garments soaked in crimson.

Unlike the world of darkness, where sound was eerily absent, the white realm enveloped Desmond in an unsettling silence, muting his sense of hearing as if a shroud had been cast over it. Undeterred, he commanded with a hardened expression, "System, scan and identify the enemy." His voice resonated with determination, a testament to his unwavering resolve even in the face of their injuries.

[Scanning the target...]

Simultaneously, a thread of Desmond's energy extended into the white world, causing the chaotic battle to momentarily halt. Laura and Annie caught sight of their young master, their pallid faces finding solace in his presence. Still, they remained motionless, their gazes cautiously surveying their surroundings.

[Scan Complete!]

[-Status-

Name: ????

Gender: Female

Age: 11 years

Race: Human

Class: 1st class Witch

Occupation: Member of the Aristocratic Technocracy Organization

Unique Energy: 18.25

Strength: 2.35

Agility: 3.35

Stamina: 3.35]

"Ha! Just an ant!" Desmond exclaimed without a trace of hesitation, his sudden rush into the white world leaving his maids astonished. Unleashing the raw power of a second-class swordsman, he swiftly arrived by his maids' side, casting a discerning gaze upon the surroundings.

"Interesting," he muttered under his breath as he observed that the enemy shared his own age, yet possessed an energy level exceeding the norms of this world. "It must be her peculiar trait."

In less than a minute since Desmond's arrival, his maids regained their composure, their voices barely audible. "Young master..." Laura spoke weakly, blood streaming from her wounded eye, yet her smile remained resilient. Annie, despite the loss of her arm, managed to muster a salute, displaying her unwavering loyalty.

"Good job, all of you," Desmond commended, his tone carrying a subtle warmth tinged with sorrow as he beheld their condition. A stroke of fortune lay in their existence within a magical realm, as these injuries could potentially have inflicted permanent damage. "Now, tend to your wounds.

We must swiftly conclude this before the city soldiers arrive," he instructed, surveying the aftermath of the battle, finding neither footprints nor blade marks to guide them.

As his words hung in the air, energy surged into Desmond's awaiting hands, coalescing into a sturdy wooden barricade just behind his maids.

*Clank* *Clank*

The newly formed blockade resonated with the impact of a relentless assault. Before his maids could fully comprehend the situation, Desmond had already propelled himself forward, his hand gripping at empty air with purpose.

"Heck!" Laura and Annie jolted back to awareness, only to witness a barrage of daggers embedded in the wooden obstruction. And there, in the firm grasp of their young master, hung a silver-haired girl, her face contorted with the signs of suffocation, her delicate neck taking on a ghastly shade of purple.

Adorned in a flowing silver gown, complemented by a billowing cape, the silver-haired girl exuded an ethereal beauty. Her attire, revealing glimpses of a trained abdomen and ample bosom, accentuated her allure. Long silver tresses cascaded down, enhancing her angelic visage.

However, Desmond's countenance remained cold and resolute, undeterred by her captivating appearance, as if he were impervious to the charms that had captivated many a soul before.

Desmond's mind raced as he observed the girl, realizing that she bore little resemblance to an angel. Instead, her presence exuded a palpable aura of malevolence, casting her in the role of a fallen angel. It was a chilling contradiction, one that sent a shiver down Desmond's spine.

"Hello, Miss. Nice to meet you," Desmond addressed her, his grip on her swan-like neck still firm, his smile stretching across his face, his eyes narrowed.

*Crack*

"And goodbye," Desmond uttered with a hint of darkness, as he exerted a fraction of his strength, effortlessly snapping her graceful neck and carelessly discarding her exquisite form like a piece of refuse.

Yet, in the very next moment, his pupils constricted, a surge of urgency flooding his senses. Activating a spell with practiced precision, he summoned a small dome of hardened earth, encasing his maids in a protective barrier.

*Plop*

As the lifeless body of the silver-haired girl hit the ground, Desmond's hand bled, crimson droplets staining the immaculate white expanse beneath him. His gaze fixated on the small dome that shielded his maids, his expression laden with both exasperation and concern. "You women, truly troublesome creatures," he muttered under his breath.

[Success: Scanning the enemy trait!]

[Displaying the data...]

[Heartless (Unique)

- Immune to Fear, Poison, and immobilizing spells

- Enhances energy gathering by +0.002 and increases spell damage while reducing spell cost

- Boosts the accumulation of Unique Energy by +0.003]

"The fuck! Someone's using a fucking GameShark!" Desmond's inner frustration seethed, the profanity slipping through his thoughts as he cursed the unfair advantage bestowed upon his fallen adversary by these trait effects.