The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"F-fuck!" Desmond exclaimed, his frustration mounting as he watched nearly half of the hands he controlled drop the blood bags, resulting in a resounding thump thump as they hit the ground.

Overwhelmed by his own anger, Desmond instinctively clutched his head, hoping to alleviate the pain pulsating through his temples. Much to his dismay, the hands he had summoned mimicked his movements, causing them to flail about in sync with his frustrated gestures.

"Arghh!!!" he yelled in exasperation, growing increasingly annoyed as the hands he had created proved to be insufficient in height to prevent the spilled blood bags from hitting the ground.

The outburst lasted only a few moments before the area fell back into silence, leaving Desmond to contemplate the mess of blood bags scattered before him. He let out a weary sigh, his mind racing as he searched for a solution to salvage the situation.

"I wonder if there's a way to gather all these blood bags together," he pondered, his thoughts drifting to memories of his previous world, where specialized vehicles were designed to transport multiple goods simultaneously.

However, Desmond was well aware that even if he were to create a makeshift vehicle from the ground, it would be futile without understanding the inner workings of an engine and possessing the ability to recreate the necessary components.

Similar limitations applied to crafting a computer; he could fashion a rudimentary structure, but lacking the knowledge to construct the essential parts rendered it useless.

Lost in contemplation, an idea suddenly sparked within Desmond's mind. Squatting down and touching the ground, he initiated a spell, channeling his energy into the earth. The surrounding noises of crickets chirping and mice scurrying through the bushes aboveground provided a continuous cover for his actions.

As if in response, the ground beneath him began to tremble, and the surrounding soil gradually transformed into a malleable, clay-like substance. Sticky and pliable, the soil took on the appearance of mud before transitioning into a different hue. "It's working," Desmond thought, a glimmer of delight evident on his face.

He continued pouring his energy into the ground, causing the land to transform further until it resembled water, forming a massive wave.

"What the fuck?!" Desmond exclaimed, stepping back in alarm as the wave before him took on the characteristics of water but was composed of bricks, mud, worms, and clay, giving it a monstrous appearance. A shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought of being struck by such a wave.

Desmond attempted to halt the wave by ceasing his energy flow, yet instead of subsiding, the wave continued to grow in size, reaching heights that exceeded even the ceiling of the underground passage, towering three times above Desmond's own stature.

"There is no other choice!" Desmond realized, recognizing that the towering wave was ready to engulf him and his precious ingredients. Determination welled up within him as he recited an innate wizard spell, summoning a colossal wall to shield himself from the impending disaster.

"Hope it works!" he thought, hoping that his hastily conjured barrier would serve its purpose. However, his hope turned to dread as he watched the wave merge with the protective wall, their forces combining to fill the entire dungeon.

Desmond's pupils shrank in response to the unfolding spectacle. The wall he had intended to safeguard himself had become one with the wave, transforming the chamber into a chaotic maelstrom.

Glancing beyond the amalgamation of wall and wave, Desmond's gaze fell upon the blocked exit, concealed beneath layers of dirt. Along the surface of the wave, several spilled blood bags and the bag containing the captive demon bobbed amidst the swirling current.

"My materials..." Desmond whispered, a mixture of disappointment and frustration coloring his voice.

The colossal wave surged forward, carrying away his hard-earned ingredients and the unfortunate elf who had been caught in its path. Desmond stood in silence, his eyes fixed on the towering mass before him. While the height of the wave alone posed no immediate threat to the structural integrity of the dungeon, the loss of his carefully gathered materials tore at his heart.

"There is only one way," he thought resolutely, his mind swiftly recollecting his recent encounter with Gibson. In an attempt to emulate Gibson's technique, he endeavored to make the soil adhere to his body, solidifying the ground beneath him. However, his efforts proved in vain, the hardened soil crumbling and failing to adhere like Gibson's method.

Examining the hardened soil closely, one would notice that it lacked true solidity, merely appearing to be solid. At the slightest touch, it would easily crumble under the pressure of a finger.

"As I suspected, how could that sphere instantly harden the ground into stone?" Desmond pondered with a tinge of frustration, realizing the limitations of his attempts.

Thankfully, a new idea sprang forth in Desmond's mind. Gathering the loose soil, he moistened it with water, transforming it into pliable clay. Reciting an incantation, he commanded the clay to adhere to his body, intending to mold it into a protective shell.

"Now for the final step, this shall be my gamble," he thought resolutely, mentally preparing himself for the forthcoming spell.

With a swoosh, heat began to radiate around Desmond's body as he commenced the incantation. He willingly subjected himself to the searing flames, enduring the intense pain that accompanied the process. Groaning, his gaze gradually obscured by the hardening ground, he could sense the clay adhering to his body, encasing him within its protective embrace.

Just before closing his eyes, Desmond caught a glimpse of the colossal wave beginning to surge forward, carrying with it the remnants of his scattered materials.

"It's working. I hope this will prove useful," he thought with a flicker of optimism, surrendering himself to the uncertain outcome of his daring gambit.

Crash

The colossal wave crashed forward with a deafening roar, its immense power sweeping Desmond off his feet. As the forceful current surged, it yanked away the flickering basement candles, plunging the room into an abyssal darkness. The sound of the wave reverberated through the air, jolting Desmond's slumbering servants and even rousing the night guards stationed at the gates.

The noise was a thunderous symphony, reminiscent of a mountain erupting, its seismic vibrations trembling upon the surface of reality.

Meanwhile, Desmond, his eyes tightly shut, sensed the stirring of his loyal servants. Their hurried footsteps resonated in his ears, accompanied by the approaching thuds of the guards racing towards his location. Swiftly, Desmond transmitted a message, commanding his entourage to hold their positions, explaining that he was engrossed in a critical experiment.

Obediently, his servants and guards returned to their designated spots, heeding his request.

"Damn, I pray this calamity does not escalate," Desmond silently muttered, anxiety etching across his face.

Encased in a hardened shell of clay, his body remained immobilized, depriving him of freedom. His survival now depended on his ingenuity to sustain himself. Inhaling and exhaling in a rhythmic pattern, he chanted an incantation, summoning the winds to carry air into his lungs through the crevices in the clay.

Though his stamina waned and his energy dwindled, Desmond possessed the extraordinary capacity of a seasoned wizard, enabling him to retain consciousness in the face of adversity.

Crash

Abruptly, the relentless surge halted, colliding against an unyielding obstruction. The protective spell woven by Desmond shattered instantaneously. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he realized the wave had crashed into the icy barricade he had meticulously created, fortifying the entrance to the ritual chamber.

Fortunately, the proximity between the exit and the chamber minimized the distance the wave could breach.

Creak Creak

Like an ancient mummy shaking off its wrappings, Desmond fought to regain control over his limbs as the wave's enchantment gradually dissipated.

Crash

The statue that had encased Desmond crumbled, revealing his unblemished form. Nevertheless, exhaustion painted his countenance a ghostly pallor, evidence of the colossal expenditure of his inner reserves.

"Huff," Desmond exhaled deeply, his head drooping in weariness. He took a seat and embarked on a meditative state, seeking solace and replenishment for his depleted energy.

The natural energies in the vicinity seemed inexorably drawn to Desmond, converging upon him like a celestial vortex. They embraced him with a gentle warmth, akin to a parched wanderer quenching their thirst with a revitalizing sip of water. Gradually, his frail frame rekindled with strength and vitality, as if rejuvenated by an invisible elixir.

After a few minutes of serene meditation, Desmond opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across his surroundings, alert and observant.

"I have only managed to restore a mere fraction of my total energy this time, and it appears that this room will have to be obliterated," he ruminated, a tinge of disappointment coloring his thoughts.

Desmond's gaze swept across the once-sturdy stone floor, now transformed into malleable clay. Even the ceiling had undergone an otherworldly metamorphosis. The ambiance shifted, casting an illusion that he was no longer in the depths of an underground chamber, but rather within the recesses of an ancient cave.

"Ah..." Desmond groaned, his eyes falling upon the spilled bags that once contained the precious blood of serpents and reptiles, now strewn haphazardly across the floor. "A lamentable sight. What about the others?"

Summoning the power of his words, Desmond recited the Ward Spell, conjuring a sphere crafted from ethereal moonlight particles. This radiant orb manifested a subtle sentience, guiding his vision as he surveyed the room's contents.

With cautious steps, he approached the pouch housing the enigmatic demon and the slumbering elf. "Seems they have weathered the storm, albeit with a few blemishes," he contemplated.

Gently prying open the pouch, Desmond discovered scars etched upon the demon's forehead and tail, while the elf he carried exhibited minor wounds and abrasions scattered across her delicate form.

"This... shall suffice," he silently acknowledged, scrutinizing the state of the dungeon. A realization dawned upon him—every trap, including the once-deadly fireballs, now lay dormant, their mechanisms rendered impotent by the cataclysmic event.

After traversing the labyrinthine corridors for a few minutes, Desmond arrived at the exit. Yet, to his surprise, the door had vanished, replaced by a compacted mass of soil.

"Element Control," he commanded, extending his hand toward the obstructive ground and invoking a spell.

The earth before him stirred, a living entity responding to his will, gradually relinquishing its solid form and reverting to its original state, clearing Desmond's path with a deliberate gentleness.

Stepping out into the open, Desmond cast a final glance over his shoulder, ensuring that no unanticipated distortions had transpired as a consequence of his incantations.