Reborn As Noble

Meanwhile — Deep Inside the Forest Path in the Human Kingdom Territory

The thick forest, full of shadows and the smell of damp earth, shook as thousands of footsteps moved in unison.

Ten thousand enemies was quietly approaching.

All were modified soldiers, created through forbidden rituals, dark grafts, and twisted enhancements.

At the front of the line, riding a warhorse shrouded in dark mist, was their leader, dressed in full plate black armor. The strange shimmer of his helmet caught faint moonlight.

For a brief moment, their trail went cold. Then, the scout came back.

"Sir General," he reported quickly, kneeling. "We've found the location. The attack on His Majesty's forces came from close by."

The general exhaled deeply, a cold, metallic sound echoing inside his helmet. His voice was cold, emotionless, without a hint of feeling.

"Good," he said.

He turned slightly, raising his hand as his black warhorse snorted and pawed the ground.

"All units—move forward."

"Use all your strength from the start. Don't underestimate him. All of you have the gift of the Seventh… and my orders are final. If you find the boy—kill him. Leave nothing behind. No survivors. No names."

"Yes, General!"

Tarmy rushed forward, divided into specialized hunting groups. Some were fast, some suited for rough terrain, others for overwhelming force. The trees were crushed under their feet, branches broken like brittle glass. The noise was fierce and wild, chaotic, but with only one purpose:

To destroy.

The general kicked his black warhorse. Dark energy surged beneath its hooves as it dashed through the trees, leading the attack.

He held tightly to a huge curved sword at his side, and his eyes.

"Let's see if the boy screams when I cut out his spine,"

The forest shook with the force of their movement.

Suddenly...

A faint shimmer appeared in the darkness.

Then came a soft, delicate sound like a whisper.

Before the general could react, before his army could do anything,

Heads started to roll.

Dozens.

Then hundreds.

Each of the modified soldiers' necks was cleanly cut, precise and merciless. Their heads hit the forest floor with a dull, wet thump. The bodies, still faintly glowing with dark enhancements, twitched once before collapsing like broken dolls.

No dark magic was strong enough to heal these wounds.

The cursed flesh, which was supposed to regenerate, refused to move. The limbs that should have reattached stayed still. The faint glow of holy energy lingered on the severed flesh, burning away the corrupted mana at its roots.

"No... impossible…" the black-armored general muttered, his horse shifting nervously beneath him.

Before he could figure out where the attack was coming from,

A barrage of arrows, glowing with white light like lightning bolts, rained down from the trees above. Each arrow struck true, targets vital spots like heads, hearts, spines.

More soldiers fell.

More heads rolled.

Panic started to spread through the once-invincible army.

They didn't even see the attacker.

Only quick flashes moving like ghosts between the trees. Cutting, shooting, then vanishing. No footsteps, no warning, just death.

"Incoming—!"

A scream was silenced abruptly. Another soldier's body collapsed as his head exploded from a close-range arrow.

The general's eyes widened behind his helmet.

"What… the hell is happening?!" he roared, drawing his huge curved sword. His voice cracked with anger and confusion.

In just minutes.....

A thousand of his men had fallen.

His soldiers were modified elites, resistant to pain, immune to fatigue, enhanced with the power of the Seventh's prototypes.

And yet.

They were nothing to whatever was now hunting them.

The forest, once a trap they prepared had become a mass grave.

And the worst part?

He hadn't even seen the attacker's face.

Only the light.

White. Glowing. Holy.

He clenched his teeth, trembling with rage and fear.

The black-armored general froze for a moment, his mouth slightly open as his mind struggled to understand what his eyes had just seen.

He looked up.

And there she was.

A woman. A maid.

She was dressed in a sleek black combat maid uniform, her long hair neatly tied behind her, and she wore glasses that caught the pale moonlight. In her delicate-looking hands, she held a warhammer as tall as a grown man, glowing with radiant white inscriptions.

She began to descend.

Gracefully.

Like a divine judgment.

And when she struck the ground,

A silent flash erupted outward. A pillar of white light shot up like a holy flare, and everything near the impact was instantly destroyed.

At least three dozen of the modified soldiers were wiped out, burned, shattered, purified.

There was no time for them to recover.

No chance to scream.

They were simply gone.

The shockwave rippled outward, shaking the trees, breaking the terrain, then suddenly vanished, leaving behind a white crater and an eerily quiet silence.

Before the general could do anything,

Another figure moved from the treeline.

An elf. Dressed in a beautiful maid uniform.

Her silver hair flowing, emerald eyes steady and unwavering. Her movements were silent and precise, cold as the moon itself.

She raised a bow made of shimmering mana, glowing softly.

Serene.

Calm.

No words spoken.

No hesitation.

Light arrows shot from her bow, blinding, fast, relentless. They curved in impossible trajectories, striking enemies from strange angles. Each shot hit its mark, dozens of soldiers falling in seconds as their corrupted bodies were pierced and disintegrated by holy energy.

But it wasn't the maid's holy hammer or the elf's storm of arrows that bothered the general most.

No.

It was their incredible speed.

He was no ordinary general, he had fought monsters, heroes, cursed champions, and chosen warriors. But this, this was different.

The maid was a blur of black and light, appearing behind his men before they could react, bones crushed, spines shattered.

The elf never stayed in one place for long, dancing between the trees, her arrows still flying as if time itself bent around her fingers.

The general clenched his teeth and lowered his stance into a defensive position.

Inside his mind.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

The general's breathing became ragged, his heart pounding like a frantic drum inside his chest.

That brat!!! He's nearby!

His helmet swung from side to side as he desperately looked for any sign of the young Armand prodigy. With a surge of desperation, he activated all his power, dark mana raging wildly around him. Grabbing his two huge black swords etched with glowing crimson runes.

He jumped down from his warhorse and slammed onto the shattered ground.

His eyes darted around wildly.

Where are you, brat?!

But then it hit him hard, like a blade in the stomach.

Those quick flashes of white, those lightning-fast strikes, were wiping out his soldiers one after another, with no mercy…

The impossible speed.

The deadly accuracy.

Shit!

It was him all along!

( End Of Chapter )