The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond, on the verge of taking a sip from his glass, was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out his name. Lifting his head, he discovered Laura standing beside him, a smile adorning her features, but causing a faint crease to form on his brow.

"What's the matter?" Desmond inquired, his curiosity tinged with a touch of concern.

Rather than offering a direct response, Laura wordlessly relieved him of the glass, bringing it closer to his lips. Desmond coughed in surprise, his initial discomfort evident. "It's alright, Laura. I am perfectly capable of managing on my own," he asserted, taking the glass from her grasp and proceeding to enjoy a sip of his drink.

Observing Laura's dejected departure, Desmond's eyes followed her retreating figure, perplexed by the unexpected change in her demeanor. "What could be troubling her? Something feels amiss," he contemplated inwardly before turning his attention back to his current activities.

A few minutes later, a maid hurriedly approached Desmond from a distance, her countenance reflecting exhaustion and a sense of urgency. The resounding thud of her footsteps resonated through the air as she reached Desmond's side.

Desmond, engrossed in his book, kept his face concealed from view, leaving the maid torn between the choice of interrupting his rest or conveying the news regarding the materials. After careful consideration, the maid leaned closer and whispered in Desmond's ear, her voice breathless from the haste, "Young master, I apologize for the intrusion, but the materials you ordered are now available."

Simultaneously, Desmond was rewatching a thrilling battle video, basking in the comforting embrace of the morning sun. Just as the next video was poised to commence, an unexpected voice pierced through his reverie, causing his senses to heighten abruptly. His body instinctively recoiled, creating a sudden gap between him and his seat.

*Whoosh!*

In his startled state, Desmond inadvertently unleashed a spell, conjuring hands that emerged from the ground, forming an additional layer of earth. His hand instinctively reached for the wooden sword hanging at his waist, which hovered weightlessly in the air, poised to strike.

In an unforeseen turn of events, one of the hands rising from the ground seized the maid by the neck, while the wooden sword menacingly lingered near her eye. The maid, who had merely intended to rouse Desmond from his repose, was taken aback by this unforeseen escalation.

Witnessing her young master prepared to strike with lethal intent, the cold glint in his eyes and the overt hostility etched upon his features caused her body to tremble uncontrollably.

"Um...young..." The maid attempted to address Desmond, her voice faltering with fear. Yet, as she spoke, she detected a shift in Desmond's countenance, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

"Ah!" Desmond, perched atop his elevated position, snapped back to reality, the realization of the maid's identity dawning upon him. "I apologize," he swiftly expressed, the hand holding the maid's neck dissipating into thin air. The earthen structure he had created gradually crumbled, returning the ground to its original state.

Sheathing his wooden sword, Desmond approached the maid with fluid grace, his agile movements reminiscent of a fleeting gust of wind. In an instant, his left hand gently clasped her waist, while an earthen hand provided support to her shoulder.

"I am sorry for my actions," he spoke sincerely, his gaze locked with hers.

The maid, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that had just transpired. Gradually regaining her composure, her cheeks flushed crimson, and she stuttered, "N-no... problem, young master."

The previous fear that had gripped her body seemed to evaporate, as though it had never existed. The potent air of menace that Desmond had exuded transformed before her eyes into an enchanting allure.

Swiftly, she disengaged herself from Desmond's grasp and hastened away, her gaze lowered humbly. Desmond, adjusting his attire with a nonchalant gesture, shook his head in mild disbelief. Yet, as he prepared to resume his seat, he noticed that the maid continued her retreat.

"Hold on a moment, what message do you wish to convey?" Desmond called out from a distance, prompting the maid to halt in her tracks. She approached him, her head bowed in deference.

"It pertains to the materials you instructed me to procure, young master," she responded softly, her words barely audible had it not been for their close proximity.

"Ah, place them in their customary location," Desmond replied in a composed manner.

Having finished his drink and neatly folded his book, Desmond departed from the backyard, his mind now consumed by the pursuit of his experiment.

"Yes, young master," the maid acknowledged, her thoughts still swirling with the aftermath of the previous encounter, her heart racing within her chest.

Returning to his chambers, Desmond carefully arranged the book on the table before settling onto his bed, assuming a meditative position.

With a deep exhalation, Desmond's breath fluttered through the air, causing the fine hairs on his legs to stir. In the depths of his mind, a transparent screen materialized, projecting the captivating battle video he had chosen. Time slipped away as he immersed himself in meditation, harnessing the harmony between mind and body.

Desmond, having calmed his mind and regulated his breathing, proceeded to perform a customary check of his inner organs, a routine he observed during each meditation session. As he delved deeper into his practice, the sensation of energy gathering within him intertwined with the symphony of nature's melodies that graced his ears, coaxing his body into a state of relaxation.

Night descended, and Desmond's ears picked up the sound of knocking on his door. However, deeply entrenched in his meditative state, he remained oblivious to the world around him. His maids, well-versed in their young master's habits, refrained from entering without his explicit permission, unfazed by his lack of response.

After several minutes of patient waiting, the maid who had knocked on the door finally abandoned her efforts and departed.

As Desmond slowly opened his eyes, he was greeted by the radiant moon, casting its ethereal glow upon the world and awakening the nocturnal creatures from their slumber.

Reflecting on his recent progress, he mused, "This time, at least I sense some improvement in my movements." Desmond possessed exceptional talents, having received fundamental swordsmanship teachings from his father and basic spellcasting knowledge from his mother. Without his diligent efforts, his journey towards mastery would have remained out of reach, despite his innate abilities.

"It is time," Desmond proclaimed, rising from his bed. Enunciating his custom incantation, he vanished into the moonlit night.

Navigating the dimly lit hallway, Desmond relished the caress of the cool breeze against his skin. The night held promise, and it guided him to a secluded spot in front of a cluster of bushes.

Within the backyard, a multitude of fresh blood bags had been meticulously arranged, awaiting Desmond's inspection. He diligently counted each bag, murmuring, "10... 20... 100," before employing his innate wizardry to move them aside. A massive hand materialized from the very earth itself, sweeping the bags away.

Remarkably, there was no repugnant stench or unsightly residue lingering in the air, a testament to the maid's diligent efforts to ensure cleanliness. Not a trace of blood stained the ground beneath his feet.

After a few more minutes, the neatly arranged bags of blood were positioned behind him. Desmond intoned yet another spell, summoning fire to ignite from his palm. The flames danced under his command, deftly melting the ice that covered the hole before him. This time, the fire remained contained, its flickering warmth generating a mere wisp of steam.

Contemplating his next steps, Desmond's thoughts wandered to the elusive acquisition of pure dragon blood. He pondered, "Elves, demons, and blood are all within reach, but procuring untainted dragon blood proves to be an arduous task.

If only the [System] possessed such capabilities, it would undoubtedly be regarded as extraordinary in this era." With a final incantation, he caused the hole to expand, gradually reaching ground level.

As the materials emerged from the depths of the earth, the previously unconscious slave suddenly regained consciousness. Disoriented and overwhelmed, she looked around in a panic, unleashing a piercing scream that echoed through the air, "Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Startled by the sudden outburst, Desmond swiftly reacted to silence the alarmed elf before any unwanted attention could be drawn. He mentally noted, "Thank goodness the elf is positioned near the other blood bags..."

Wiping the perspiration from his forehead, Desmond surveyed the vast array of materials before him. The sight of the numerous ingredients and the fiery obstacle within the underground storage left him momentarily flabbergasted. He muttered incredulously, "Holy shit, how am I supposed to bring all these ingredients up while avoiding that fireball?"

Lost in his intense focus on gathering the necessary components, Desmond had neglected to consider the logistical challenges at hand. He ruminated, "There must be another way, but it may take considerable time. If only I were a 3rd class wizard, adept in the manipulation of time and space spells."

Restlessly pacing back and forth, Desmond sought an alternative method to access the underground materials. After a few minutes of intense brainstorming, he reluctantly concluded that he would have to resort to conventional means.

With a muttered incantation, "Elemental Manipulation: A Hundred Hands," the ground responded to Desmond's command, summoning forth a multitude of hands. True to the name of the spell, precisely one hundred hands sprouted from the earth's surface, deftly seizing and lifting each pouch of blood.

Desmond couldn't help but sigh, "This spell can be quite troublesome..." Though he possessed the necessary energy to control the numerous hands, it demanded an immense amount of concentration and focus. With his mind divided among a hundred different entities, maintaining coherence was a challenge.

Uttering a quiet prayer, he beseeched, "Oh, God, please lend me your aid..." Slowly but surely, he commenced the arduous task of orchestrating the movements of the hundred hands, guiding them to follow his lead. With the multitude of hands trailing closely behind him, he cautiously approached the entrance to the dungeon.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Desmond remarked, "Huff, it seems I can still manage." Pushing open the heavy dungeon door, he stepped inside, only to be met with a muffled thud. He muttered under his breath, "Shit, I hope it's not something crucial..." Turning his attention slowly, he discovered that the source of the sound was none other than...