The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Arfin's tortured screams echoed through the room, his desperate gasps for air becoming faint as darkness enveloped him. The vice-like grip around his neck loosened, releasing him from the brink of death. As his vision blurred, he caught glimpses of horrified onlookers, their eyes widening as they witnessed the macabre scene unfold.

A chilling silence settled in the air, broken only by the gurgling sound of foam escaping Arfin's contorted mouth.

"Tch!" the middle-aged man snarled, his gaze darting around the room, a mixture of triumph and malice dancing in his eyes. "Clean up the mess!" He reclaimed his seat, his lips moving in an incantation that materialized a black glove from the depths of his shadow. With meticulous precision, he used the glove to wipe away any traces of the gruesome act, his eyes and mouth now pristine.

"Where the fuck are you!"

The abrupt chiming of a doorbell shattered the man's momentary respite, heralding the entrance of a nobleman. "Hello, my friend, it's been a long time," the nobleman greeted, gracefully approaching the middle-aged man. Yet, before any pleasantries could be exchanged, the sinister grip of Krox, the middle-aged man, sought to silence his newfound visitor.

Grimm, the nobleman, waved his hand, conjuring a gleaming white iron sword that impaled the black hand, pinning it to the ground. "You're late, Grimm," Krox growled, his eyes ablaze with anger and loathing.

Moments later, the tension dissipated, replaced by an uneasy truce as the adversaries took their seats and ordered drinks. Grimm's gaze flickered towards the back door, where an individual stealthily dragged a lifeless body. Confusion etched across his features, he turned to Krox, seeking answers amidst the chaos. "What happened? Why are you slaughtering your loyal subordinates once again?"

Krox's anger surged, reaching its boiling point. "HAH?! Are you mocking me now?!" His gaze bore into Grimm, venomous hatred burning within, his very aura pulsating with a malevolence that threatened to consume them both.

Grimm's brows furrowed, his eyes widening, and veins bulging on his forehead. "Calm DOWN!" he thundered, weaving a powerful incantation that transformed the surroundings into a shimmering expanse of white iron.

The malleable iron responded to Grimm's command, morphing into countless razor-sharp needles that encircled Krox, forming an impenetrable barrier. The once lively tavern had transformed into an arena of tension, with only the chairs facing each other serving as the last bastions of normality amidst the turmoil.

The pervasive influence of the white iron extended beyond the two adversaries, affecting unsuspecting bystanders caught in its wake. Several unfortunate souls found themselves frozen in time, their bodies turned into statues, eternally trapped within this frozen tapestry of chaos.

A hulking figure, brimming with aggression, launched a surprise attack on Grimm from behind, wielding a colossal sword. But before the blade could strike, a resplendent white sword materialized, seemingly animated by its own volition.

The ethereal blade intercepted the assault, relentlessly clashing against the burly man's weapon until, with a swift stroke, it cleaved through his hand, severing it from his body.

As the burly man, Brock, braced himself for the inevitable end, his eyes caught Grimm's smirking countenance. With a swift gesture of his hands, Grimm seemed to unleash a hidden power. Just as the lethal sword was poised to claim Brock's life, a mysterious shadow materialized, swallowing the white sword in its abyss.

"Stop, I'm calm now," Krox, the middle-aged man, intervened, appearing before Brock and halting Grimm's assault. The tension in the air momentarily dissipated.

Krox turned his gaze towards Brock, who still clung to life. "Good job, Brock. You can serve me once more," he uttered, and in an instant, a shadow shrouded Brock's severed hand.

In a matter of seconds, the inky darkness dissipated, revealing that Brock's hand had been miraculously restored, as if it had never been harmed.

With a quick salute, Brock straightened himself. "Thank you, Master Krox," he expressed his gratitude before swiftly resuming his vigilant post at the tavern's entrance.

Witnessing Krox's unexpected act of mercy, Grimm couldn't help but laugh. "Hahaha, I didn't anticipate this side of you, even after witnessing your ruthless actions towards your loyal subordinates."

Krox, rolling his eyes, attempted to divert the conversation. "Enough of that. Let's refocus on our main topic."

Casting a glance at the surroundings encased in white iron, Grimm comprehended the unspoken agreement and dispelled the spell. The tavern reverted to its mundane state, as if the tumultuous events had never occurred.

The patrons, who had been witnesses to the extraordinary display, simply shook their heads in bewilderment and carried on with their respective activities.

Grimm and Krox relocated to a quieter section of the tavern. "Our business has been disrupted by recent developments in the kingdom. What are your thoughts on this matter?" Krox inquired, his anger now replaced with a hint of concern.

"As you're aware, there have been disappearances of slaves and nocturnal wanderers. Is this your doing?" Grimm countered, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Krox.

"It wasn't me. Initially, I suspected it was the work of my subordinates, but their reactions have convinced me otherwise," Krox replied with a helpless shake of his head. The situation was detrimental to his business and posed a significant obstacle to their plans.

"Putting that aside, what about the selection of the grandmaster this time?" Grimm shifted the focus, his tone laden with curiosity.

"Ah, that... It's currently on hold due to mutual agreement. The delay is a consequence of the recent attack by the Imperial Empire. Have you managed to gather any information about it?" Krox responded, his expression tinged with frustration.

Krox began an incantation, his voice resonating with arcane power. From his palm emerged a small, ornate box. With a swift motion, he opened the box, and a shadow slithered into his consciousness, causing his eyes to widen in astonishment.

After a brief pause, Krox blinked and surveyed his surroundings. "It seems that the imperial king is searching for a stolen technique, rumored to be in the possession of one of the nobles who fled to the northern kingdom," he revealed, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Prior to the meeting, Krox had utilized his shadow manipulation to assimilate the entirety of the information contained in the documents sent by his subordinates.

Grimm, on the other hand, found himself taken aback by the Imperial Empire's relentless pursuit of these rogue nobles. Furthermore, the revelation that this particular noble had been residing in the North Kingdom for seven years astonished him.

"Why haven't I come across this information earlier? How do we approach their integration into our plans?" Grimm inquired, turning to Krox for guidance.

Krox responded with a scoff, his tone laced with disdain. "How should I know? I've been in Helmfirth all this time. Weren't you the one situated in the capital city of the North Kingdom?" he retorted, a sly smile adorning his face.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Grimm chose not to engage in the argument. "Who knows? Moving on, how do you propose we proceed with our next course of action?"

Before Krox could respond, his attention abruptly shifted, and he initiated another incantation. From his shadow, a spectral wolf materialized, darting towards the adjacent table.

Crash!

The table splintered into pieces as a figure cloaked in black materialized. Witnessing this, Krox approached the intruder, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Hold on a moment, it seems we have a little mouse that needs attending to."

Grimm simply nodded, feeling a tinge of pity for the unfortunate stalker. Having witnessed Krox's formidable abilities firsthand, he knew that the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against the intruder. How could a mere stalker hope to prevail against Krox, who commanded powerful familiars with ease?