The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

A vivid yellow ball materialized on the map, its appearance signifying the successful marking of the target by the system. Desmond, always cautious, pondered to himself, "Better to err on the side of caution." Instead of heading straight home, he opted to tail the coachman, lurking discreetly as the latter prepared to recite his spell.

Meanwhile, the coachman remained oblivious to Desmond's presence. Struggling under the weight of the hefty pouch, he strained every sinew to drag it along the ground, causing the fireflies nestled in the grass to take flight, disturbed by his exertion.

Srrt srrt.

As an ordinary citizen, bereft of the swordsmanship skills possessed by Desmond or his guards, the coachman strained to pull the cumbersome pouch, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The fireflies swarmed around him, their ethereal glow dancing in the night air.

"Shit... shit..." Frustration seeped into his voice as he had no choice but to release his grip on the pouch, swatting his hand to disperse the persistent fireflies. Suddenly, a groan emanated from within the pouch, catching his attention and piquing his curiosity.

"Eh?! There's something in here." He contemplated touching the pouch, tempted to unravel its secrets, but then he remembered Desmond's explicit instructions.

"But... the young master said..." He cast a furtive glance around, finding only a few scattered pouches in his vicinity. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hehe... how would the young master know if I took a peek? After all, there are plenty of pouches here."

The coachman gingerly began to pry open the tightly bound pouch. "Shit... again and again..." After several failed attempts, he finally managed to loosen the fastenings. "Finally!"

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he gingerly parted the pouch, revealing an unexpected sight—a child demon. "A slave!!" His exclamation carried through the air, but before the sound had a chance to rouse anyone, a peculiar sensation enveloped his throat.

"What--"

*Pop*

Blood surged forth with each word that struggled to escape his lips, his eyes fixated on the foreign object lodged in his windpipe.

Cough cough.

His disbelieving gaze locked onto an iron rod impaling his throat, blood spilling forth with each convulsive cough.

A few fleeting seconds later, his consciousness waned, his gaze drifting skyward before settling on the lifeless body sprawled on the ground—now devoid of its head.

As darkness encroached upon his fading consciousness, he caught a glimpse of an enigmatic black silhouette approaching his lifeless form. "Young mas... you..." His words trailed off as his consciousness dissipated into nothingness.

Thud.

The coachman's lifeless body hit the ground, crimson rivulets continuing to spill from his severed neck. From the shadows, Desmond emerged, his presence gradually revealing itself as he approached the pouch housing the captive demons.

"Well, I anticipated an eventuality, but this swiftness is remarkable," he mused, swiftly resealing the pouch and tossing it back into the pile with the others. "Truly, the human heart harbors insatiable greed."

As he uttered these words, an unpleasant odor wafted from the blood-stained assortment of pouches he had left behind several days prior. Desmond recoiled, his senses repulsed.

"Revolting, I've neglected to attend to this matter..." Desmond muttered to himself. Extending his hand towards the pouches, a spectral hand emerged from the earth, deftly arranging the disheveled collection.

Once the pouches were gathered, a gaping hole materialized beneath them, causing the assortment to plummet into its depths. Desmond approached the precipice, relieved to find the pouches unharmed.

"Custom Spell: Freeze," he whispered, and a frigid blast encased the earthen walls of the cavity. Gradually, the ice crept inward, merging seamlessly with the ground.

"Excellent, now I simply need to conceal it," he ruminated, his gaze shifting to the remains of the coachman—a severed head and lifeless body. "Well, it's a fortuitous gain, nonetheless."

He raised his hand once more, and an earthen appendage materialized, delicately arranging the coachman's dismembered parts before him.

[Mass of Unique Energy Found!]

[Would the Host like to absorb it? Y/N]

"Yes," Desmond replied, pressing his hand against a section of the coachman's body.

[Begin Absorbing... | Time left: 55 seconds]

"Ah, this sensation... it's been a while," he ruminated as a notification flashed before his eyes.

[Absorb Complete]

[Status Updated!]

[

-Status-

Name: Desmond

Gender: Male

Age: 7 years

Race: Human (95%)

Class: 1st Swordsman

Occupation: None

Unique Energy: 32.67 -> 32.78

Strength: 16.00 (27.49)

Agility: 20.4

Stamina: 6.35

]

"At least there are a few enhancements," he thought, a sense of contentment washing over him. He then extended his hand towards the coachman's remains, causing them to be engulfed by the earth.

"May fortune favor your transformation into a splendid plant," he murmured to himself, before departing the backyard and slipping into his room through the rear entrance of the kitchen.

The following morning, Desmond's maids rose from their slumber, preparing for another day of their usual routines. One of the maids was assigned the task of tending to the cleanliness of the front yard. As she stepped out of the house, her gaze fell upon a conspicuous sight—a horse-drawn carriage without a coachman.

Alarmed by this unusual occurrence, she promptly alerted her fellow maids, and together they searched for the missing coachman, only to come up empty-handed. Their concerns led them to approach the guards stationed nearby.

"Eh? Wasn't it here yesterday—" one guard began to speak, but his companion swiftly interjected.

"Apologies, I brought the horse carriage here yesterday and forgot to return it," the guard explained to the maid, a tinge of sheepishness coloring his voice.

Although the maid found the guard's behavior suspicious, she chose to dismiss her doubts for the time being. "Hurry and clean up before the young master awakens," she instructed her companions before departing.

The guards paid no mind to the maid's lingering suspicions, simply carrying out their duties diligently and reporting any peculiar incidents that crossed their path.

"Hehe... alright, forgive me once more," the guard mumbled to himself, a derisive snort escaping his lips as he watched the maid's retreating figure.

As soon as the maid was out of sight, he pried open his friend's mouth, noticing his visibly agitated expression and flushed face.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" his friend exclaimed, his anger threatening to boil over, though he restrained himself, aware of the potential repercussions it could have on the Desmond family's reputation.

The main gate of Desmond's residence stood nearby, and their conversation was overheard and witnessed by several onlookers.

Unfazed by his friend's fury, the guard nonchalantly relayed a message from the young master.

"What did he say?" his friend gruffly inquired.

"Just that you should fetch the horse-drawn carriage and complete your 'assignment,'" he responded, his tone carrying a peculiar undertone.

His friend nodded, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the mysterious disappearance of the coachman. Yet, before he could dwell on it further, the maid called out to him.

"Go on then," she urged, a trace of annoyance seeping into her voice. "Retrieve that carriage and finish your 'assignment.'"

As his friend emphasized the word "assignment" in a different manner, comprehension dawned upon him, realizing the true nature of the task at hand. Reluctantly, he replied, "Alright."