The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

King's Palace, Dining Room; The opulent dining room, reminiscent of a grand tennis court, emanated an air of lavishness as the family indulged in their feast. The room, adorned with a colossal table at its center and a resplendent chandelier overhead, exuded an aura of regal magnificence.

Seated at the head of the table, a middle-aged man's countenance revealed a profound contemplation. His eyes carried a dullness, betraying the weight of countless intricate thoughts that burdened his mind. Despite occupying a chair coveted by every man, his face bore no trace of contentment.

On the opposite side, a woman of unparalleled beauty, possessing the ability to captivate any man's heart, wore an expression of concern as she noticed her husband's somber demeanor.

Approaching him with a gentle and soothing tone, as if handling a fragile baby, she softly inquired, "Are you okay, honey?" Her hand caressed his arm, her fingers easing the tension from his shoulders, seeking to alleviate his burdens.

The man lifted his gaze, his fingers rubbing his forehead wearily. "Yes, it's nothing," he reassured her, tenderly taking her hand and pressing a kiss upon it. "Let us partake in our meal." Despite his words, the heaviness in his countenance remained, casting a shadow upon his wife and child.

As they concluded their repast, the family opted to linger, allowing time for digestion. Abruptly, a resounding knock reverberated through the room, capturing everyone's attention. A soldier entered, bowing respectfully before the middle-aged man, King Edward of the North Kingdom. "Your majesty, we bear news concerning the forthcoming soirée," the soldier announced.

Edward's gaze brightened as he glanced at his wife and daughter, both of whom understood and gracefully withdrew from the room. He then turned his attention to the soldier, who remained in a bowed position. "Speak," Edward commanded, his tone steeped in authority.

"After dispatching the invitations, we received no refusals from any of the families or individuals," the soldier began. "They have all graciously accepted the invitation to attend the gathering. However, upon further investigation, we discovered that one particular family has elected to send only their child as a representative."

Edward's brows furrowed, his regal pride wounded by this apparent slight as the king. "Continue," he demanded, his voice escalating in volume, demanding answers.

The soldier hesitated, sensing the tension in the air before resuming with caution. "Our sources indicate that this particular family, having arrived in the North Empire a mere seven years ago, found refuge under the guidance of the former Grandmaster Weston. They are said to be undergoing training as potential successors to the esteemed title of Grandmaster, specifically young Noel."

Edward's surprise was palpable. "So they are outsiders. Why, then, were invitations extended to their families?" he inquired, seeking clarification.

"The family's wife possesses the title of Master Witch, and her husband bears a dual-class," the soldier revealed, prompting a shift in Edward's demeanor. "Very well, that changes things. As long as their families attend, it poses no issue," Edward replied, his tone adopting a more affable quality.

The soldier then divulged another piece of news, this time involving Edward's closest confidant, Master Grimm. "Master Grimm has expressed a desire for his son to marry Princess Elizabeth, your daughter," the soldier disclosed.

Edward's excitement surged within him, but as the words sank in, he unexpectedly brought his bare hands down upon the dining table with a forceful impact, causing peculiar runes to materialize on his skin.

"My king, please restrain your emotions," the soldier implored, overwhelmed by the pressure emanating from the king. He prostrated himself before Edward, begging for forgiveness.

Aware that he had momentarily lost control of his emotions, Edward drew in a deep breath, regaining his composure. "I apologize for my outburst," he admitted, a touch of remorse coloring his voice.

"No, my king, the fault lies with me," the soldier responded, still in a prone position.

Edward's gaze shifted to the soldier, and he spoke with a measured tone. "Inform Grimm that if he wishes to unite his son with my daughter, he must obtain direct approval from Elizabeth herself, as well as prove that he is the foremost among his generation." His voice lacked the previous excitement, tinged now with a hint of derision as he subtly mocked Grimm's son for his perceived overconfidence.

"Yes, my king, and regarding the-" the soldier began to reply, but before he could finish, Edward waved his hand dismissively. "Not now. I am not in the mood to hear any further," Edward declared, his mood sour. The soldier swiftly exited the room, leaving Edward alone to contend with the tempest of emotions swirling within him.

Edward sat alone in the aftermath, contemplating Grimm's unexpected request. "Why, my friend? Why would you make such a demand after all this time? Could this be your son's idea?" He mused aloud, his perception of Matson undergoing a subtle transformation. "Surely, Grimm wouldn't have initiated this on his own," he murmured, deep in thought.

As he delved into the intricacies of the family that had recently arrived in the North Empire, Edward's perspective expanded, recognizing the value of embracing diversity and the potential strengths that outsiders could bring to his kingdom. The rigid walls of tradition began to crumble, allowing seeds of change to take root within his mind.

...

In the still of night, within a secluded alley on the outskirts of the city, a young boy stood, his body drenched in blood, surrounded by the lifeless forms of several demons.

His gaze fixed upon the moon above, he spoke softly, "It seems this will suffice." Approaching the last remaining demon—a subspecies with sheep's horns and fur obscuring its visage—he listened to its desperate plea for mercy.

"Please, spare me," the demon implored, desperation lacing its words.

The boy regarded the demon with an impassive expression, his magenta eyes gleaming with an otherworldly brilliance. "Innocence matters not. Your existence merely serves my purpose," he stated, a glint of resolve flashing within his eyes as he advanced without a trace of hesitation.

The demon's pleas grew more frantic. "No, please! Spare me!" it begged, its voice trembling.

Unperturbed, the boy remained steadfast, severing the demon's head with swift precision. The lifeless eyes of the decapitated demon stared out, etched with a haunting mix of shock and bitterness.

Observing his bloodstained attire, he remarked with a tinge of amusement, "Well, that's quite the stench. I hope Alice doesn't awaken in the middle of the night."

This young boy, known as Desmond, was well aware that he and Alice were bound for the impending party. However, an uneasy foreboding clung to him, a lingering sense that trouble loomed on the horizon.

He recalled the past encounter when demons had assaulted Alice, the realization of his own inadequate strength, necessitating a delay in his plans.

"Status."

[Scanning Host Body...]

[Scan Complete!]

-Status-

Name: Desmond

Gender: Male

Age: 6 years

Race: Human (95%)

Class: Swordsman

Occupation: None

Unique Energy: 14.48 -> 19.48 -> 23.37

Strength: 7.04 -> 9.54 -> 11.44

Agility: 6.52

Stamina: 3.15 -> 4.15 -> 4.98

[System Conclusion: The host has slain ten demons and assimilated their power, resulting in impurity within the host's race. The host has also met the minimum requirements for pursuing wizardry, and it is recommended to seek appropriate techniques.]

"Hmm, this presents a conundrum. If my race undergoes changes, it could lead to complications in the future."

"The 20% bonus from the trait does offer substantial benefits. However, since the bonus does not extend to my agility attributes, its usefulness is somewhat diminished."

"System, can you provide an estimate on the completion time for the research?"

[Creating a task...]

[Slot 1 utilized]

Status: 60% complete

[Estimated time remaining: 4 years]

[Unused slot 1]

"Very well, just a bit more to go. Alright then, let's return home for now."