The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

As the white-robed individuals laid their eyes on the unfolding scene, their brows furrowed in concern. "Get inside, kid," one of them spoke, his tone weighted with caution, urging Edison to halt his steps.

Edison, brimming with the urge to refute and argue, swiftly subdued his emotions. He lowered his head in deference to the white-robed figures before obediently entering the designated area.

The moment Matson caught sight of Edison's compliance, he pivoted and gracefully turned to face Diana. "Hello, Miss Diana, it has been far too long," he greeted her with polished manners, a gentle smile adorning his features. Extending his hand, he delicately brushed his lips against her wrist in a chivalrous gesture.

"You may proceed, Miss," Matson responded, his voice audible even as Diana shot him a piercing gaze, attempting to intimidate him. Unfazed by her scrutiny, Matson maintained his polite demeanor, his eyes filled with admiration as they swept over Diana's elegant figure.

Paradoxically, Diana's initial revulsion inexplicably intensified at Matson's actions. She acknowledged the other party with a curt nod and gracefully lifted her skirt before taking a poised step forward.

The onlookers widened their eyes in astonishment, observing these unexpected interactions. No one could have predicted that the conflict would be resolved so swiftly; they had anticipated a prolonged ordeal on this eventful day of registration.

Once Diana had passed through the entrance, Matson's expression abruptly shifted, morphing into a frigid demeanor. He cast a penetrating glance at the surrounding crowd, his voice cutting through the air. "Any of you who dares to encroach upon the princess and the young lady shall find themselves at odds with me," he declared, his words leaving the crowd dumbfounded.

His tone dripped with arrogance, mockery, and unwavering confidence. Simultaneously, he scrutinized each individual in the vicinity, his piercing gaze piercing through their souls.

Although the crowd's status forbade them from retaliating, the youth among them murmured their discontent, their dissatisfaction evident as they averted their gaze to avoid Matson's penetrating eyes.

Satisfied with their reaction, Matson nodded imperiously before finally entering the premises. The crowd collectively heaved a sigh of relief, allowing one of their own to step forward and join the registration queue.

"Make way, commoners!" However, an enraged shout thundered from behind the youth. Frowns etched across their faces as they beheld another young master, his corpulent form accompanied by a retinue of girls.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them could no longer contain himself, retorting with a glare directed at the pudgy young master. Others also manifested their displeasure, as they had been waiting since morning only to be thwarted by the likes of these entitled young masters and ladies.

"Me? None of your damn business!" The rotund young master retorted, audaciously spitting in the direction of the speaker. He continued to march forward, his chubby frame undeterred, his hands still clutching the girls by his side.

"You..." The young man, now with a globule of spittle on his face, seethed with rage. He yearned to seize the rotund young master by his shoulder, but before he could make his move, a cacophony of horse whinnies reverberated through the air.

*Rumble* *Rumble*

This time, the crowd was compelled to part ways as a grand carriage and a band of thirty horsemen advanced toward the portal.

Witnessing this, the white-robed individuals harbored intentions of intervention. However, before they could act, the newcomers abruptly halted their approach, dismounting their steeds.

The young man who had been incensed moments ago was now clearly overwhelmed by a wave of terror, his senses tingling in response to their presence. Merely a single glance was sufficient to discern that these were seasoned Swordsmen who had surpassed a certain threshold of skill.

The white-robed individuals turned their gaze towards the city guards stationed above, yet they observed with surprise that none of the guards made a move. Instead, they watched the incoming group with unwavering reverence.

As the white-robed individuals observed the unfolding events, their initial wariness began to wane, their gaze now fixated on the door of the carriage. Their impression of this newcomer had been rather unfavorable, especially considering that even the princess herself displayed respect by refraining from bringing her own guards to disrupt the academic proceedings.

*Click*

The carriage door swung open, revealing a strikingly handsome young man descending gracefully to the ground, his physique exuding a well-honed strength. Instantly, the horsemen who had accompanied him cried out in unison, bowing their heads in deference.

Confusion swept through the crowd at their reaction, but upon seeing the lavish carriage and the formidable retinue of bodyguards, it became apparent that this young man held a position of high status among his peers.

"You may depart. I can handle things from here within this ward," Desmond, the young man, spoke with an air of authority. Though they all wore hooded attire, Desmond keenly sensed the undercurrent of discontentment emanating from the assembled horsemen.

Once the carriage and his subordinates had departed, Desmond found himself being glared at by an enraged fat young man, his eyes bloodshot with fury.

"Well, what a surprise. A boulder suddenly appears," Desmond jeered, narrowing his eyes mockingly. His words unexpectedly diffused the tense atmosphere, eliciting laughter from many of the onlooking youths, who struggled to contain their amusement at the expense of the rotund young master.

"You bastard! Do you remember what you did at the auction? Face my wrath!" the fat young master bellowed, flinging the girls at his side aside and lunging forward. His hands hardened into rock-like appendages, and the ground beneath his feet distorted as he hurtled towards Desmond.

The crowd was taken aback by his audacious actions, while the white-robed individuals found themselves caught off guard. Although confrontations between the young individuals were expected each year, no one had ever dared to openly launch an attack with so many eyes upon them.

*Rumble* *Rumble*

The corpulent young master, Gibson, propelled himself forward with his magical abilities, charging relentlessly towards Desmond. Desmond, however, maintained an outward facade of composure, even as a flicker of panic coursed through his being.

Their distance closed rapidly, and within a matter of seconds, Gibson would land a devastating blow upon Desmond's body. Yet, as Desmond focused on Gibson's approach, he also discerned the formation of another energy fluctuation beside him.

In Desmond's eyes, every action Gibson took, as well as the expressions of the onlookers, seemed to play out in slow motion. Having reached the level of a 2nd class Swordsman himself, Desmond understood that engaging in close combat with a swordsman without his own magical abilities was akin to courting death.

Beside him, the newly formed energy fluctuation caused the ground to ripple before materializing into a small stone block, rising and taking aim at Desmond's body. If struck, his wrist would be immobilized, leaving him vulnerable to an attack from the front. His ribs would likely shatter under the force of Gibson's subsequent punch aimed at his face.

Though Gibson's face betrayed anger and resentment towards Desmond, to the eyes of the others, his attack revealed numerous flaws, as if his emotions had taken control. Little did they know that every move he made was a calculated deception, cunningly designed amidst the chaos of battle.

However, all of these events would transpire only if Desmond failed to notice the ambush lurking beside him.

Simultaneously, Desmond shifted his attention towards the white-robed individuals. To his surprise, he observed that none of them made any move to intervene or halt Gibson's impending assault.

"A battle is not prohibited, huh?" Desmond muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting back to Gibson, who had closed in on him, their distance reduced by half.

With a coldness that permeated his eyes and an air of indifference, Desmond tapped into his Control Element: Fire. Without the need for an incantation, he instantaneously activated a spell.

From the very air itself, a faint white energy emerged, intertwining and connecting to form a line that extended until it culminated in a swirling magic circle beneath Gibson's vicinity. This enchanting circle continued to revolve, drawing in the surrounding natural energy.

Gibson's expression paled as he beheld the magic circle, instantly halting his movement and assuming a defensive stance. The hardened earth encasing his hand began to twist and shift in multiple directions, manifesting as a hovering half-square that shielded his abdomen and shoulder, leaving his head and feet exposed.

*Swoosh*

However, before the protective barrier surrounding his head and feet could solidify, an intense blaze erupted around the area of the magic circle, engulfing his body in searing flames. Simultaneously, the stone block that had appeared beside Desmond dissipated back into the earth.

The crowd stood in stunned silence, their gazes fixed upon Desmond, a mixture of fear and envy etched across their faces. Some whispered in awe at his ability to cast spells in an instant.

"On the other hand, the white-robed individuals exclaimed in surprise, witnessing Desmond's effortless casting without any discernible movement of his lips.

Their perception of Desmond shifted, yet their brows furrowed as they witnessed the ruthlessness of his actions. "This young man is far too merciless!" they muttered amongst themselves. "In the end, they will become fellow students, so why must he resort to torturing his comrade?"

With a collective sigh, one of the white-robed figures took flight towards Gibson's location. Chanting softly, he gathered energy, forming a grand magic circle above the blazing inferno.

"Control Element: Water Rain!"

Simultaneously, they sighed, their only hope being that Gibson would emerge unscathed from this fierce confrontation. The girls who had accompanied Gibson watched on, their faces etched with terror as they witnessed their master's body consumed by the merciless flames.