The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

In another tavern, the stifling atmosphere hung heavy with the acrid stench that permeated the air, as if the foul odor had woven itself into every nook and cranny. The pungent aroma mingled with the coppery tang of blood, forming an unsettling olfactory assault on the senses.

The tavern's interior bore witness to the aftermath of a fierce struggle, where shattered walls revealed broken bricks and scattered debris strewn across the floor.

Amidst the wreckage, a gathering of black-clothed guards stood triumphant, their swords stained crimson with the lifeblood of both friends and foes. Shadows played upon their faces, their identities obscured by the dim illumination cast by flickering candles hanging from the chandelier.

Several of these candles had been haphazardly affixed to the walls, further adding to the enigmatic visage of the victorious guards.

Breaking the jubilant revelry, a guard emerged from the midst, dragging a young girl by her hand. "Look what I found!" he called out, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and sadistic delight.

His comrades turned their attention to the girl, taking in her pitiful state—tattered clothing and disheveled hair. "Bring her to the young master," one of the guards ordered, their initial intention to silence the witness dissipating with the emergence of a new directive.

Confusion flickered across the faces of the guards as they pondered their next course of action. Their expressions mirrored a collective stupor, until a thunderous clamor of heavy armor and the neighing of horses outside shattered the silence, reverberating through the tavern.

"Scatter! Our mission is complete!" one of the guards shouted, jolting the rest from their daze. They swiftly abandoned the tavern, hastening towards their secret passage, the captive girl in tow.

The girl's wide eyes brimmed with fear as she gazed upon the enigmatic figures cloaked in black. With her ebony hair tied in a disheveled ponytail and piercing red eyes, she felt herself being forcefully dragged into the depths below, her heart pounding with trepidation.

Meanwhile, in another location where city soldiers had just quelled the threat of the black-clothed assailants, the captain bellowed his orders. Fifteen soldiers stood before him, their determination unwavering after successfully defending the vulnerable civilians from a brutal slaughter.

"Return to our troops and regroup!" the captain commanded, his voice resonating with authority. Though he held the temporary rank of captain and possessed no extraordinary talents, his years of loyal service had elevated him to the position of an upper-stage 2nd class swordsman, granting him a modicum of seniority.

"Yes, Captain!" the soldiers responded in unison, their voices brimming with unwavering loyalty. As they received magical messages from the accompanying wizards and witches who had come as reinforcements, they promptly assisted the injured civilians before embarking on their journey towards Desmond's location.

Yet, as the captain listened to the messages, a sense of unease crept over him. The speaker's voice quivered, his words laden with trepidation and hesitation.

Though the swordsman's body had grown accustomed to the numbness brought about by combat, his discerning eyes caught sight of wisps of ethereal white energy escaping from the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, ascending towards the heavens.

Simultaneously, inside the castle, a concerned couple gazed at the ominous dark cloud that loomed over the sky, their brows furrowed with worry.

"I shall investigate personally," the wife declared, urgency evident in her voice. She hastened to a waiting carriage, accompanied by a contingent of loyal soldiers.

Her face paled as she beheld the colossal reservoir of white energy coalescing in a single point in the sky, pouring down towards the ill-fated tavern. The scene before her evoked memories of her intense battles against formidable A-ranked beasts, alongside veteran witches and wizards.

The oppressive pressure emitted by those creatures and the energy they unleashed mirrored the current calamity unfolding above.

"Please be careful," the husband replied to his wife, his expression devoid of worry or fear. Instead of attempting to dissuade her, he let out a sigh before making his way towards the castle balcony.

"Your Highness, please forgive me for this late disturbance," he said, half-kneeling with his head respectfully lowered.

Seated before him, Elizabeth occupied a chair, her piercing blue eyes narrowed as she focused her gaze on the troubled sky. She clutched a cup of tea in one hand, her concern evident in her worried tone. Her eyes shifted intermittently towards the houses of the civilians and the nearby barracks, where one of her dear friends was resting.

"Yes, Your Highness, please trust me with this task," Grey, the husband, responded with determination, his voice resonating with conviction. He promptly excused himself and made his way towards the meeting room to gather information and devise a plan.

Unbeknownst to them, Clark had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Seeing the worry etched on Elizabeth's face, he clenched his fist and cast a determined glance towards the source of the impending trouble.

"For the sake of my second life," he gritted his teeth and slipped out of the castle, his agility allowing him to glide noiselessly across the ground, his boots barely making a sound on the terrain.

In the Military District, where Vesta resided, his room on the upper floor boasted opulent decorations. High curtains adorned the walls, displaying breathtaking scenic paintings that added to the elegant ambiance. Vesta sat on a plush red chair, its cushioning providing comfort for his body and neck.

However, his brows furrowed when he noticed a multitude of soldiers leaving the premises in the dead of night.

Vesta turned his gaze to find his daughter peacefully slumbering on a small bed adjacent to his own. Her vibrant red hair lay neatly arranged as she emitted adorable snores.

A tender and protective gaze washed over Vesta as he stood up, his voice filled with affection as he addressed her, "Wait here for a moment, my princess. Father needs to assess the situation outside."

As the guardian, his position would be called into question if he failed to act in the face of a threat to the civilians. With resolve in his heart, Vesta left the room and approached the door handle.

At that moment, one of his subordinates sprinted down the corridor and halted in front of him, panting for breath. Handing him a letter sealed with the kingdom's emblem, the subordinate was taken aback to see Vesta standing by the door.

"Sir, you have been summoned to the castle by the city lord," the subordinate informed, his surprise evident. He handed the letter to Vesta, who received it with a solemn expression. Silently, Vesta broke the seal and read the contents, sighing softly before directing his gaze to the dark sky outside the window.

"It's truly troublesome," he murmured to himself, the chaotic situation outside weighing heavily on his mind. They had been granted time for a meeting, even amidst the escalating crisis, instead of promptly addressing the root cause.

Meanwhile, back at the lavish tavern, Desmond closed his eyes, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

[Begin Absorbing...]

[Absorb Complete]

[Begin Absorbing...]

[Absorb Complete]

...

Numerous notifications flooded his vision as strands of energy were drawn into his body. Desmond's form radiated with a luminous glow as the threads of energy converged upon him from all directions. He appeared to possess a multitude of white ethereal arms, his long hair billowing in mid-air.

However, instead of experiencing joy, he bore the burden of pain, feeling the emotions and sensations of those whose energy he absorbed.

The haunting memories of countless individuals flooded Desmond's mind, their emotions and experiences threatening to overpower him. Within his own being, a fierce battle raged, as he struggled against the onslaught of more than twenty consciousnesses.

With the aid of the dark dragon that resided within him, Desmond fought to maintain control over his own body and thoughts, the clash of wills creating a turbulent internal struggle.

Simultaneously, as the newly absorbed energy coursed through his veins, a sinister transformation occurred. The energy metamorphosed into a dense darkness that surged forth, ascending towards the heavens in a tumultuous display of power. This malevolent force merged with the already ominous dark cloud looming in the sky, forming a colossal vortex that seemed to swallow the very essence of light.

The convergence of energy and darkness within the swirling vortex exuded an aura of impending doom.