The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond's eyes roamed the room, taking in the scene that unfolded before him. It resembled a classroom, the tables and chairs arranged with meticulous precision. A faint scent of chalk hung in the air, mingling with the mustiness of old books. Sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, casting a dim glow upon the scene.

At the front of the room stood an enigmatic figure—an elderly man, his white shirt contrasting against the dark backdrop of the chalkboard. A beard framed his weathered face, lending him an air of wisdom. As he etched words onto the board, a thin cloud of chalk dust danced in the sunlight, creating a surreal atmosphere around him.

Desmond strained his eyes, but the haze enveloping the old man rendered his features indistinct, leaving his face shrouded in mystery.

"Long ago," the old man's voice resonated, capturing Desmond's attention. The words seemed to drift through the room, carried on an ethereal breeze.

"The Dragon Slayer class was a formidable force, utilized by all races to vanquish the perilous Dragon Beasts." The room flickered with an otherworldly luminescence, as if fireflies had materialized before Desmond, casting a mesmerizing glow that rendered everything hazy and dreamlike.

Desmond's heart quickened, a surge of unease washing over him, as he discovered his body held captive, unresponsive to his will. Panic threatened to consume him, but he fought to remain composed, his eyes fixed on the enigmatic teacher who continued his lecture, seemingly unaware of Desmond's plight.

"What the fuck is happening?" Desmond's whispered curse broke the stillness, his voice laced with frustration and confusion. He longed for guidance, for the familiar presence of the system that had accompanied him thus far, but his calls were met with silence. The weight of his circumstances settled heavily upon him—alone and detached from the world he knew.

Yet, an unyielding determination burned within Desmond. He forced his attention back to the old man, straining to discern the details of the mysterious figure and the words he inscribed on the chalkboard.

"Following the blessing of the gods, each race was entrusted with the knowledge of the Dragon Slayer class, along with a drop of authentic dragon blood to aid in the fight against the Dragon Beasts," the old man's voice carried on, weaving a tale of ancient power. "Initially coveted by all, the class presented strict prerequisites, allowing only a chosen few to become Dragon Slayers."

Desmond's eyes widened as his mind absorbed the significance of the old man's words. Dragon Slayer Class? It was an unfamiliar term that stirred a myriad of questions within him. He yearned to understand, to unravel the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic path.

Seeking clarity amidst the haze, Desmond focused intently on the writings scrawled upon the board. The old man's words revealed the trials that awaited those who sought to become Dragon Slayers, each step fraught with peril and challenge.

"After ingesting the dragon's blood, aspiring Dragon Slayers must endure two crucial tests," the chalkboard inscription illuminated the path before Desmond's eyes. "First, they must maintain control over their mental faculties, as the potent blood can provoke instability within. Those who succumb to its influence become beasts, stripped of their humanity.

Even if they retain their sanity, a loss of emotional control will drive them to madness. Second, they must possess a formidable energy reserve of 40,000 units and achieve the status of a 1st-class swordsman. It is this arduous requirement that deters many from pursuing this revered class."

Desmond's brow furrowed, his thoughts racing to comprehend the gravity of these trials. The burden of

responsibility weighed upon him, but he refused to succumb to despair. He would find a way to overcome, to seize his destiny.

The old man concluded his teachings, dissipating into thin air, leaving Desmond alone amidst a haunting tableau. The classroom, once orderly, transformed into a gruesome scene of lifeless bodies, casting an eerie pall over the space. Desmond stood resolute, facing the daunting challenges that lay ahead, his heart aflame with determination.

"What the hell," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he surveyed the room, now filled with lifeless bodies. A sickening stench of decay wafted through the air, assaulting his nostrils and making him cringe.

Desmond's body trembled, his skin drenched in sweat, evidence of his heightened anxiety. He ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, his wide eyes darting nervously from one gruesome sight to another. It was a chilling tableau, a macabre testament to the horrors that had unfolded within these walls.

Taking a deep breath, Desmond attempted to steady his racing heart, desperate for answers to the inexplicable events he had just witnessed.

"I'm back. What the hell was that?" he questioned aloud, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and dread. He turned his gaze towards the empty air, his eyes searching for any sign of the system's response. Silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the sound of his own labored breathing.

"System, did you record the incident?" Desmond's voice wavered with a hint of desperation, his hope resting upon the system's ability to shed light on the unsettling experience. Seconds ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity as he awaited a response that seemed to elude him.

Minutes turned into hours, yet the system remained stubbornly silent. Desmond's throat tightened with a dryness that mirrored his growing anxiety. Beads of perspiration trickled down his forehead, his mind flooded with questions and uncertainties. Had the system failed him? Had it neglected to capture the strangeness that had unfolded within these four walls?

Desmond's frustration mounted, his hands clenching into tight fists as he tried to suppress his growing agitation. The absence of answers weighed heavily upon him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

[System: Yes, host.] The system's voice finally pierced the suffocating silence, breaking through the haze of Desmond's thoughts. Relief washed over him, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the confusion that enveloped him.

"Thank god," Desmond exhaled, his words laden with both relief and frustration. "I was worried there for a minute. I was too shocked to react earlier, but it looks like you recorded it after all."

His voice trembled with a mix of relief and curiosity as he sought further clarification. "Wait...did you just speak earlier, System?"

[System: Yes, host, I am able to communicate with you now.] The system's reply held a tinge of cryptic ambiguity, leaving Desmond with more questions than answers.

Desmond's brows furrowed, his confusion growing. "Really? Okay, then tell me, where did you come from and how did you get inside my body?"

[System: Unknown command.] The system's response fell short, frustrating Desmond further as he grappled with the limits of his understanding.

Desmond sighed, a combination of resignation and determination etched upon his face. "Okay, this is a waste of time," he muttered to himself. "Replay the incident from earlier."

With closed eyes, Desmond sank down to the floor, his mind filled with a swirl of memories and fragmented images. He allowed the visions to replay in his mind, hoping that a closer examination would yield some semblance of clarity.

...

Desmond rose from the floor, disappointment etched across his features. He couldn't make sense of the disjointed puzzle pieces that his mind presented to him. Frustration surged within him, fuelling a surge of anger that demanded an outlet.

"Shit, this is just fucking great," he exclaimed, his voice laced with bitterness and helplessness. In a fit of frustration, he kicked a nearby object, sending

it hurtling across the room, its crash against the wall echoing his turbulent emotions.

He paced back and forth, his agitation palpable, his thoughts a whirlwind of despair. "How am I supposed to become a Dragon Slayer if I can't even obtain the fucking dragon blood?" he lamented, his words laced with a mix of exasperation and anger. A deep-seated sense of injustice gnawed at him, fueling his frustration.

Desmond's footsteps echoed through the desolate room, his mutterings blending with the somber silence. He resolved to continue his search, to seek out those who possessed the knowledge he so desperately craved. Determination hardened his features, as he vowed to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of the truth.

"I need to find someone who knows more about this," he declared, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "Maybe there's someone out there who has become a Dragon Slayer or who can guide me on the path to obtaining the dragon blood. I won't rest until I find the answers I seek."

Desmond's mind buzzed with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism as he absorbed the system's explanation. The idea of drinking blood from various creatures to achieve the status of a Dragon Slayer seemed both daunting and unnerving. However, the mention of using indirect dragon-blooded beasts piqued his interest.

"System, have you recorded all of the information in the book?" Desmond inquired, his voice laced with a cautious anticipation.

[System: Yes, host.] The system's confirmation echoed in his mind, instilling a glimmer of hope within him.

[System conclusion: From the analysis results, it was found that to reach the 1st class of Dragon Slayer, the system advises the host to drink blood from a dragon and to use some elf and demon blood.]

Desmond's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and disbelief crossing his face. "What?! Did you just tell me to become a vampire?" His voice wavered with a blend of incredulity and concern. He had not expected such a drastic method to be the key to his desired transformation. Doubts and fears crept into his thoughts.

"How about just gathering energy? Isn't that enough?" he queried, hoping for a less extreme alternative.

[System conclusion: This is the method by which the system designs the most perfect host body. Considering that a long time has passed and that even dragon blood is extremely impossible to find, the system will purify some indirect offspring of dragons by using several animal and beast races. This purification is done by activating the pentagram on the floor.]

The system's explanation brought a measure of clarity, easing Desmond's initial unease. The notion of purifying blood through the pentagram offered a glimmer of hope amidst the apparent complexity of the process.

"Oh, so I don't have to drink all the blood from the bodies of beasts, elves, or demons?" Desmond's voice held a hint of relief, his mind grasping at the possibility of a less gruesome path.

[System: That is correct, host.] The system's response resonated within him, alleviating his concerns to some extent.

Desmond let out a slow breath, the tension in his body dissipating. "At least I only have to control some of their emotions, as the old man mentioned. Hopefully, that can be the only way for me to heal my hands," he murmured, a glimmer of optimism dancing in his eyes.

His thoughts then turned to the elusive Master Witches and Wizards, who had seemingly vanished without a trace. Desmond's hopes of their assistance had dwindled, overshadowed by the understanding that their aid came with a price. He felt an innate hesitance in seeking their help, aware of the intricate web of favors and debts that governed their world.

Furthermore, beyond the few acquaintances he had, such as Leona, Noel, and Grimm, Desmond lacked a network of connections to skilled wizards and witches. He grappled with the discomfort of relying on others to heal his hands, uncertain of the extent to which he could trust them.

Lost in his thoughts, Desmond muttered to himself, his gaze fixed upon the intricate pentagram etched into the floor. "Dragon Slayer, huh...that sounds familiar."

Curiosity nudged him forward, urging him to examine the pentagram more closely. His eyes scrutinized the symbol's intricacies, taking note of the candles carefully placed at each point of the pentagram and the lines drawn with blood, casting a deep, blood-red hue.

"So, I get it. The system wants to use indirect dragon-blooded beasts for purifying the dragon blood," Desmond mused aloud, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and contemplation. "But why elf blood too?" He furrowed his brow, his mind racing with possibilities and questions.

[System Conclusion: The information in the book states that pentagrams were created by elves, so their blood is required for the pentagram to function.]

Desmond absorbed the system's explanation, his understanding growing clearer with each piece of information revealed. The role of the elves in the creation of pentagrams struck a chord within him, connecting the dots of their involvement in this intricate process.

"Then why is the blood of a Demon child also necessary?" Desmond probed further, his curiosity driving him to unravel the depths of this complex ritual.

[System Conclusion: Blood from demon children is needed to increase the authenticity of dragon blood, and demon blood can maximize the potential of every animal and beast.]

A mixture of surprise and intrigue flickered across Desmond's face as he absorbed the system's response. The significance of the demon blood as an enhancer and catalyst resonated with him, unveiling a deeper understanding of the purification process.

"I see," Desmond murmured, a newfound clarity infusing his voice. "So, elves serve as triggers, demons as stimulants, and the main ingredient is dragon sub-type beasts."

His mind whirled with possibilities, mapping out the interplay of each component and its contribution to the ultimate goal of becoming a Dragon Slayer.

"But how strong is this Dragon Slayer class?" Desmond pondered aloud, his eyes shimmering with a mix of awe and determination.

[System Conclusion: According to the information from the book, the power of a 1st Dragon Slayer is equal to that of five 1st Wizards/Witches.]

A surge of excitement coursed through Desmond's veins. The realization that the Dragon Slayer class wielded a formidable strength akin to five accomplished wizards or witches intensified his resolve. The potential lay before him, waiting to be harnessed.

"Wow," Desmond breathed, a sense of awe washing over him. "But for now, my focus should be on gathering the materials required for the pentagram."

Determined, he scoured the room for any additional items of value that could aid him on his quest. However, despite his thorough search, he found nothing else of significance. Frustration welled within him, mingling with his determination.

Leaving the room behind, Desmond cast a spell to repair the collapsed door, ensuring its stability as he ventured forth.

"Custom spell: Freeze," he uttered, his voice firm and commanding. Raising his hand, he directed his focus towards the damaged door. Droplets of water manifested from the air, emerging from his outstretched palm. With precise control, the water droplets froze upon contact, encasing the entire surface of the door in a layer of ice.

"Done," Desmond declared, a sense of accomplishment coloring his tone. "This is just a precaution."

Unlike other magicians who relied on external sources of water to freeze objects, Desmond possessed a unique ability. The water within his own body became his instrument, enabling him to wield his magic with remarkable efficiency.