The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond's hands surged with natural energy, crackling with a faint white light that danced in his palms. Suddenly, the luminous radiance transformed into a shroud of darkness, casting an ethereal glow over the midnight sky.

A magnificent magic circle materialized, spanning the heavens and enveloping the tumultuous dragon head vortex, its size triple that of the vortex itself, as if attempting to consume the entire city.

Under the resplendent spectacle, the Desmond group found themselves at the epicenter, both bathed in the illuminating brilliance and obscured by its veil, their features partially concealed.

"Lead the way," Desmond commanded, his voice piercing through the dazed onlookers, including his subordinates, snapping them back to reality.

Felix, his gaze fixated on the sky and his young master, couldn't believe what he was witnessing. His hands trembled, and a wave of excitement ran through his body, causing him to shiver. The power Desmond possessed at such a young age filled Felix with a profound sense of honor.

Inwardly, he muttered to himself, acknowledging the privilege of serving such a remarkable genius before hastening forward.

The maids nodded in silent agreement, their hearts swelling with pride and happiness, fully aware that their young master's powers had reached new heights.

As Desmond's group departed, the magic circle above the vortex gradually descended, causing the colossal whirlpool to diminish in size until it finally settled upon the ground. With the descent of the magic circle, it disintegrated into numerous faint white orbs, dissipating into the air, leaving behind no trace.

However, this transformation came at a cost, as a dense cloud of darkness cloaked the entirety of the Market District. When the civilians came into contact with this sinister fog, their anguished screams pierced the night. Initially healthy and panicking, their faces began to drain of color, transforming them into frail, elderly figures.

From infants to adults, all were subjected to the rapid aging process, their bodies disintegrating into ethereal white energy.

Strangely, only those in close proximity to Desmond's location were affected, while others merely experienced a fleeting tickling sensation on their skin before it abruptly vanished.

Upon the arrival of reinforcements, Violet, the leader, and the Master Witch stood in stunned silence, their expressions grave as they surveyed the devastating scene. The sound of wailing infants filled the air, their tiny garments and blankets the only remnants of their presence, while scattered jewelry adorned the streets and buildings.

"Search these people!" Violet bellowed in a mix of rage and despair, her once-beautiful face now streaked with tears. Her voice reverberated through the silent night, reaching the castle where her husband, Greyson, frowned in concern.

Driven by anguish, Violet emitted an immense pressure that caused the surrounding natural energy to dissipate in all directions, momentarily leaving her weakened and limp. Collapsing to her knees, she clutched a set of baby clothes to her chest, her previous actions driven by the intention to save lives and seek out the perpetrators.

Regrettably, all the nearby civilians had perished, and the culprits had escaped. The lifeless bodies of not only the civilians but also the fallen soldiers lay scattered on the ground, their faces contorted in a frail smile of contentment. Inwardly, Violet lamented her failure to make a swift decision, burdened by the overwhelming cruelty of the situation.

However, the subsequent scene depicted Violet slowly rising from the ground, her countenance etched with sadness and regret. In a feeble voice, she uttered, "Advance Spell: Rewind!"

...

Simultaneously, as Desmond and his group finally reached the hidden passage, their eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of their subordinates gathered and engaging in what appeared to be reckless playfulness.

Felix's expression twisted into one of disgust upon witnessing their behavior. He seized the collar of one of the guards dressed in black and forcefully slammed his face onto the ground, a resounding boom reverberating as the confused guard collided with the earth, sending a gust of wind outward.

"Whoa!" exclaimed one of the other guards, warily observing his fallen comrade sporting a distinct red handprint on his cheek.

"Guards!" shouted Felix, commanding the attention of his companions. All eyes turned toward him, and upon catching sight of Desmond's presence, their anger swiftly dissipated, replaced by a mixture of fear and embarrassment. "Sorry, young master!" they muttered in unison.

Desmond paid little heed to their response, his determined form pressing forward. At the rear of his entourage, situated against the wall, he spied a boy and a girl around his age, lying pitifully on the ground, their bodies covered in bruises.

However, Desmond's gaze swiftly shifted to the boy's features, prompting an automatic scan from the system.

[Scanning Host Body...]

[Scan Complete!]

[-Status-

Name: Clark

Gender: Male

Age: 10 years

Race: Human

Class: 1st class Swordsman / 0th class Wizard

Occupation: None

Unique Energy: 14.06

Strength: 17.90

Agility: 15.20

Stamina: 0.50/2.80]

Stunned, Desmond examined the boy once more, noticing his face and body concealed beneath the same black cloth worn by his subordinates. "This brat..." Desmond muttered inwardly, his eyes then shifting towards the black-haired girl beside Clark.

"Young master, we found her in the tavern. It seems the previous enemies intended to harm her before we arrived," one of his subordinates stepped forward and explained, his tone tinged with amusement as he glanced at the boy beside her.

Desmond nodded, comprehending the situation, and then turned his gaze towards all of his subordinates. "Take them. We need to move swiftly," he commanded, his heart heavy with anguish upon witnessing that only half of his one-hundred-strong contingent remained.

With weakened bodies, Clark and the frightened black-haired girl were defenseless as they were effortlessly hoisted onto the shoulders of the black-clothed guards. Clark could only discern blurry figures taking hold of him, his shock mounting as he witnessed the ten-meter walls vanish before his eyes, replaced by an illusion of stone bricks.

The scene flickered for a moment before he succumbed to unconsciousness.

...

Their journey proceeded smoothly, aided by the soldiers' preoccupation with the Market District. The opposite district lay unattended, facilitating their escape.

They caught glimpses of various figures from the church, including sisters and bishops, rushing towards the gates, accompanied by some soldiers. Only when Desmond and his group finally arrived at the familiar gate and meadow did they find solace, their anxiety gradually dissipating. The guards began to gingerly push open the gate, while others secured a reserved horse and carriage nearby.

Desmond, Felix, and the maids entered the carriage, with one of the black-clothed guards assuming the role of coachman. As for the remaining members of their party, some chose to run alongside the carriage, while others remained behind to guard the gates.

Upon their arrival at home, a sight awaited them. The maids stood in line, their heads bowed in deference, while a shimmering ball of light floated and spun along the pathway leading to the entrance.

"Welcome, young master," they spoke in unison, their voices soft and reverent, creating an air of solemnity that caused the black-clothed guards to smile in appreciation of the scene.