The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

-Summer 12, years 430-

On this scorching summer day, anticipation filled the air as the academy's inaugural test loomed on the horizon. A throng of aspiring students had flocked to the portal, their eagerness palpable as they arrived even before the break of dawn.

As the sun climbed higher, its relentless rays fused with the fervor in the young hearts, igniting a blazing fire within them. Beads of sweat trickled down their brows, mirroring the coursing of blood and the kindling of spirits that perfectly matched the intensity of the moment.

In the midst of this anticipation, Desmond, true to his routine, stirred from his slumber and began honing his skills as a swordsman in the sanctuary of his room. Before embarking on his physical exercises, he stretched his lithe form, casting off his upper garments.

With a firm grip on his swords, Desmond could sense the natural energy surrounding him yearning to merge with his every movement. Yet, at this moment, he sought only physical exertion, striving to push his limits.

*Swish*

"One..."

*Swish*

"Five..."

*Swish*

"Thirty..."

As the count rose, a zephyr gathered around the edges of his blade, following its every arc and swirl. Simultaneously, the tempo of his swings quickened, causing his visage to flush crimson as rivulets of sweat cascaded down his straining physique.

*Boom*

When the count reached a thousand, Desmond abruptly halted, unleashing the amassed winds in a thunderous blast that reverberated through his surroundings. Furniture trembled and toppled, though fortunately, no irreparable damage occurred. Clapping his hands, he summoned a maid to tidy the mess while he made his way to the dining room.

The morning light finally pierced his window, casting its warm glow upon his skin, prompting Desmond to instruct his attendants to prepare the waiting carriage.

"You needn't accompany me," Desmond addressed Laura and Annie, who appeared poised to trail behind him. Laura's eyes betrayed her reluctance, while Annie simply nodded, her gaze lowered as was customary.

...

Meanwhile, at the portal,

A multitude of young hopefuls had already congregated, forming an orderly queue in anticipation of the arrival of the academy cohort. Their collective gaze fixated on the portal, some silently beseeching the divine for triumph.

*Fizz*

An eerie distortion reverberated throughout the Military District, heralding the emergence of white-robed figures from the inky depths of a dimensional rift. Arriving in groups, their faces concealed beneath hoods, their numbers had grown since the previous day, now reaching an impressive fifty. Without delay, they encircled the crowd, closing in from all directions.

"Dear students, please proceed calmly and one at a time," urged one of the enigmatic figures, their voice veiled and indistinguishable amidst the encircling shroud.

In a moment of parting, Elizabeth, Gabriela, and Clark stepped forward, their presence commanding admiration and respect from the throng. Yet, when their gazes fell upon Clark, envy-ridden glances shot forth, accompanied by the subtlest smirks. How could they forget the audacious soul who had dared challenge the esteemed son of the Master Wizard?

"A man, reliant on the protection of women? What a disgrace!" These unsaid words danced on the tip of their tongues, but as long as their beloved princess was by Clark's side, such brazen insults remained unspoken.

Thus, they settled for clandestine sneers and envious glances, their minds murmuring silent curses against him.

Observing Elizabeth's approach, the white-robed figures immediately bowed, their voices brimming with sincerity and deference. "We wish you resounding success, Your Highness," one of them uttered, their tone devoid of any ill will, but laden with gratitude and profound respect.

Elizabeth gracefully nodded with a smile and stepped into the ethereal dimension, embraced by the mysterious allure it held.

As the turn came for Gabriela, the crowd's gaze, as well as that of the white-robed figures, remained fixed upon her. One of the enigmatic figures spoke again, their tone now carrying an air of sternness, "May you walk in the footsteps of your father, my lady."

Confident and resolute, Gabriela replied, "Certainly," before crossing the threshold into the otherworldly realm.

With the departure of the two noble women, the attention of the crowd finally fell upon Clark, eagerly awaiting their chance to pass judgment upon him.

"Surely a dog will always follow its master, won't it?" The derisive words hung in the air, igniting a wave of laughter that reverberated through the assembly, causing Clark to momentarily halt in his tracks.

The white-robed figures maintained their silence, their eyes fixed upon Clark with an indifferent gaze, devoid of the warmth they had shown earlier.

In the face of Clark's pause, one of the figures spoke coldly, "Even as a follower of Her Highness, it does not grant you permission to disrupt the proceedings of the academy. Enter promptly or await the next person."

Gritting his teeth, Clark scanned the enigmatic figures in search of the speaker, but their identity eluded him.

"Hurry up, or you might find your neck in a noose," a voice finally broke through Clark's restraint, prompting him to turn and confront a youth of his own age. The young man sported disheveled mustard-yellow hair and vibrant cyan eyes, which glimmered with a mocking smile.

"It's you!" Clark's voice carried the weight of recognition, confirming that this youth was indeed the one who had jeered at him earlier.

"Heh, so what? Are you planning to bite me?" The youth leaned closer, his mouth parting to reveal a set of pointed canines.

"Hahaha! Young master, you truly are a riot!" he jeered, fueling the laughter that erupted from the crowd.

"A rustic bumpkin like you, dreaming of becoming a grandmaster? What a laughable notion!"

The mocking laughter echoed once more, but this time, dissenting voices joined in, expressing their disapproval and disdain towards Clark.

Initially, Clark chose to disregard the mockery, understanding all too well the bitterness and resentment that fueled it. He had experienced such treatment before, enduring the creation of voodoo dolls borne from jealousy.

Now, the tables had turned, and he found himself on the receiving end. It was uncomfortable, akin to the feeling idols might experience when haters spewed their vitriol. He pondered inwardly, shaking his head in contemplation.

However, when the youth before him likened Clark to a dog, he could no longer tolerate it. Conflicting emotions surged within him as he recalled Elizabeth's words about protecting others, weighing upon his heart.

Meanwhile, the white-robed figures frowned, their patience wearing thin. Clark's refusal to move forward had obstructed the line, and they sought to rectify the situation. "Young Master Edison, please refrain from causing trouble," one of them calmly implored.

Upon hearing the admonishment, Edison, the youth who had taunted Clark, immediately sealed his lips, offering a polite chuckle, and slightly bowing his head. "Please forgive my impertinence, respected wizards and witches," he spoke with courtesy and deference.

With a smile playing on his lips, he then turned his attention back to Clark, his gaze meeting the angered young man's. "Are you going to enter or not?" Edison queried, his words hanging in the air, awaiting a response.

Without dignifying Edison with an answer, Clark turned his back on him, letting out an indignant snort before striding resolutely into the portal.

In the end, he chose to let the words of the crowd wash over him like fleeting gusts of wind. His focus remained fixed on his goal: to grow stronger and protect Elizabeth, as well as the world, from the clutches of evil.

With this resolve fueling his spirit, Clark couldn't help but recall Matson's chilling glare, Edison's sly smile, and Desmond's demeanor towards Elizabeth. The passionate fire within him burned brighter, igniting a flame that spurred him onward.

And as the crowd witnessed his unwavering determination, their laughter once again filled the air.

"The title of a coward suits him perfectly!" The scornful remark echoed through the air, accompanied by a widening grin on Edison's face as he took deliberate steps forward.

"Hoh? The loser has already gone in?" Another voice chimed in, prompting the crowd to part, revealing the imposing figure of Matson. His gaze, icy and unwavering, fixed upon Edison.

Not far from Matson, Diana stood tall, crossing her arms defiantly, her brows furrowed in disapproval.

"And what about you? Why are you lingering?" Impatience etched across Diana's face as she pointed towards Edison, her gaze demanding an answer.

Observing her companions' departure, Diana had been patiently waiting for her turn, only to be interrupted by Edison's sudden appearance, brazenly inserting himself into the line alongside Matson.