The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as he thought to himself, "Nothing ever seems to change!" Despite his tireless efforts to do what he believed was right, there was still no discernible reaction. "I need a new approach," he sighed, exiting the ritual room and finding himself in a dimly lit passage that stretched out before him.

Shaking his head, his gaze swept across the underground surroundings, taking in the dank air and the musty scent that permeated the atmosphere. "Time is a precious commodity, yet here I am contemplating a potential waste of it. This experiment must yield results and enhance my power," he muttered, determination glinting in his eyes.

With only two years remaining to gain entry into the esteemed academy, Desmond had been relentlessly searching for ways to augment his strength since the previous year. "It seems I may end up joining the guild I least desired," he muttered under his breath, lost in his thoughts as he absently scanned the objects scattered around him.

It was then that his gaze fell upon a once-intact candle, now split in two. Though the body of the candle remained intact, its utility had been rendered useless. Desmond fixed his gaze upon the broken candle, pondering for a prolonged moment. "Does fire hold the key as well?" A glimmer of excitement flickered in his eyes as he swiftly made his way back to the ritual room.

Once inside the room, Desmond chanted an incantation, and fire erupted from the palm of his hand. With careful precision, he directed the flames to consume only the pentagram's intricate lines. Each flickering flame diligently consumed the markings, igniting them with a vibrant hue akin to a dancing sapphire blaze.

"Eureka!" Desmond exclaimed, a surge of energy coursing through him as he sensed a subtle shift within the pentagram's dormant energy. The flames he had conjured were not towering infernos but rather modest in size, barely reaching the tips of his toes. Yet, as he infused the energy into the pentagram, the flames surged, now reaching the height of his knees and radiating a mesmerizing bluish hue.

"How extraordinary!" he shouted with unbridled enthusiasm, his eyes aglow with wonder as he beheld the ethereal blue flame. "It's akin to the azure fires of a spectral rider!"

Simultaneously, the blue flames that had previously resided outside the circle coalesced, forming four distinct entities. Each flame represented the direction of its corresponding pentagram. The four blue flames gradually took on the shape of small dragons, each no larger than Desmond's clenched fist.

The miniature dragons began to circle within the center of the pentagram. Though lacking intricate details, their form consisted of flickering flames, their eyes glowing with distinct colors, each unique from the other.

The dragons stood proud, their robust bodies supported by four sturdy legs, while a pair of expansive wings adorned their backs, reminiscent of the majestic western dragons found in ancient tales and folklore.

Desmond's eyes remained wide open, afraid to miss even the slightest detail. Although the System could capture and record the scene, witnessing it live held a certain allure that no video could replicate.

Mesmerized, Desmond observed as the four dragons ascended gracefully, halting in midair, their piercing gazes scanning the surrounding area in the cardinal directions. Although their howls were not as thunderous as those of actual dragons, they resonated with a familiar aura, offering a sense of solace akin to that of a meditative state.

"Whoever designed this class must possess a mind brimming with fantastical notions," Desmond mused aloud. Memories of the countless Eastern novels he had devoured, filled with tales of cultivation and immortality, flooded his mind. The moment he laid eyes on the pentagram, it transported him back to those captivating worlds he had once immersed himself in.

However, the reality he now found himself in differed greatly from his imaginative musings.

As the dragons ventured towards their assigned materials in their designated directions, Desmond's curiosity piqued. He yearned to understand the purpose of their actions. The first dragon reached the eastern corner, where a dense clot of material pooled upon the floor.

Upon arrival, the dragon seemed momentarily hesitant, pausing as if contemplating its next move. Eventually, with a resolute decision, it delved into the blood clot.

Desmond fixed his gaze upon the eastern corner, eager to witness the transformation taking place. The sound of bubbling water resonated from within the clot, and as time elapsed, the pool of blood began to simmer and boil.

Then, with a slurping sound, a voluminous pool of blood, akin to a sizable bathtub, was swiftly engulfed, leaving behind only a peculiar 'something' that bore resemblance to the initial form of the dragon.

This 'something' promptly turned around, revealing a fully-fledged blue fire dragon, adorned with scales and adorned with sharp horns, gradually transitioning from a mere fragment of a fiery body into the embodiment of a dragon. The newly formed dragon soared back towards the center circle of the pentagram, circling gracefully, as if patiently awaiting the arrival of its counterpart.

Desmond nodded approvingly at the dragon's formidable shape. "It's already impressive, but if it were black, it would exude an even greater allure." His aesthetic preferences had been influenced by his experiences in his previous world, where the mafia often favored objects in shades of black and gray.

Shifting his gaze to the dragon stationed in the northern quadrant, where the Elf material resided, Desmond pondered the intriguing prospect of witnessing the dragon's interaction with a living being, such as an Elf. He anticipated that this encounter would bring a new level of authenticity to the dragon's actions.

However, the moment Desmond's attention focused on the Elf, he found himself rendered speechless. "Am I seeing things?" he muttered, disbelief tingeing his voice. The dragon's behavior diverged from his expectations. Instead of devouring the Elf, the dragon affectionately rubbed its head against the Elf's hand.

Desmond stood astonished, his mind racing to comprehend the dragon's unexpected actions. He wondered, "What is happening? Does the dragon recognize the Elf?"

Eventually, the dragon seemed content, gently licking the Elf's hand, where a scratch had activated the latent power of the pentagram. Subsequently, without incident, the dragon returned to the center circle of the pentagram.

"Aha! If I recall correctly, the creator of this class must be an Elf," Desmond mused, a smile of realization adorning his face. The dragon's behavior towards the Elf made perfect sense now. Their amicable interaction indicated a pre-existing bond between them. But what would transpire when faced with demons?

Desmond shifted his gaze towards the Demon, observing the diminutive dragon positioned before it. This scenario mirrored the previous encounter with the blood clot. If Desmond's conjecture held true, the dragon would consume the Demon.

Roar!

However, the dragon's actions surpassed Desmond's expectations. Instead of merely devouring the Demon, it unleashed a resounding roar, abruptly snapping the Demon out of its hypnotic trance.

"Ah!" The Demon cried out in shock as the dragon entered its gaping maw. "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" The Demon screamed in agonizing torment, choking on the presence of the dragon.

Desmond watched as the writhing Demon convulsed on the floor, inching towards the edge of the pentagram. In a pivotal moment, just as the Demon's body was about to exit the confines of the pentagram, the blue flames encircling the outer rim transformed into an impenetrable barrier.

Thump!

The Demon, now both struck and engulfed by the scorching blue flames, writhed in agony, unable to escape the confines of the barrier.

"AAAHHHH, please forgive me, sir… Sir…" The Demon's cries echoed through the underground chamber, their tear-filled pleas tugging at Desmond's senses.

Fortunately, being in the subterranean depths mitigated the intensity of the Demon's screams, although they still managed to grate on Desmond's nerves. Initially, Desmond's perception of the Demon race had been limited to viewing them as tools for personal empowerment.

However, after the incident involving Alice, his perspective had shifted to seeing demons as expendable commodities, meant for one-time use.

If all demons exhibited this broken temperament, Desmond found little reason to feel pity for them. Yet, the Demon encountered in Sieg's case seemed different, perhaps a variant, mutant, or holding a higher rank within the Demon hierarchy.

"But sometimes, humans can be even worse than demons," Desmond reflected, recalling the inhumane treatment of demons as nothing more than enslaved creatures.

Nonchalantly, Desmond remarked, "Well, it's not my concern. Each person carries their own destiny. If this Demon proves to be strong, the tables may turn, with humans becoming slaves to the demons."

Dismissive of the Demon's anguished cries, Desmond's attention refocused on the dragon that had entered its body. He observed as the Demon, previously writhing in pain on the floor, suddenly ceased its movements.

The Demon's facial features appeared to be sucked inward, his cheeks wrinkling, while the rest of his body, previously swollen to the point of bursting, now seemed to deflate before Desmond's eyes.

Roar! Splourt!

From the Demon's now-closed mouth, a torrent of blood spewed forth, giving way to the emergence of a dragon. This dragon, however, was relatively small, similar in size to Desmond's wooden sword. It swiftly took flight, circling the central pentagram.

Desmond's gaze shifted to the Demon's weakened state, where its hollowed mouth had served as the passage for the dragon's exit. The Demon's eyes bulged outward, showcasing the near-death state it now found itself in.

"Too bad..." Desmond's gaze lingered on the materialized Demon lying before him, tempted by the prospect of absorbing its essence. Yet, he hesitated, aware that each absorption would gradually dilute his own racial purity. The internal struggle weighed on his mind.

His attention then shifted to the Dragon, which had assimilated the Demon. Its form had transcended the realm of blue flames, now bearing flesh and embodying all the features of a traditional dragon—moustaches, scales, horns, wings, and four sturdy legs.

"Ugly..." Desmond scoffed, his gaze scrutinizing the Dragon's corpulent and less-than-aesthetically-pleasing appearance. In his eyes, a dragon adorned with twin flaming horns atop a sleek black body epitomized the epitome of coolness and handsomeness.

Undeterred by Desmond's disdainful remark, the Dragon continued its elegant circling, patiently awaiting the completion of the next Dragon's task.