Reborn As Noble

Javier let out a short, tired laugh, more respect than mockery in it.

"I didn't know you'd grown this strong… you finished Kenjirou in one strike."

Kliatana paused long enough for dust to swirl around her silhouette.

"You're not the only one who's grown stronger," she replied, her voice cool and precise.

"And don't forget… you owe me your life. I'll collect that payment later."

Before Javier could speak again, Kliatana began to walk away.

Javier watched her move off, then exhaled slowly, leaning against his knee for support as the mana drain weighed on him. Every muscle felt heavy.

She's gotten too strong… And why is she here?

Did she know I was about to be ambushed?

He shook his head faintly.

No… I think she came here because she was waiting for me to kill her father.

Maybe she thought that if I failed, but still managed to weaken Edmund, she could swoop in, seize the advantage, and kill him herself.

So this means… she's the only one from the royal family who survived?

Javier watched Kliatana's retreating figure until the haze swallowed her.

The girl who went to the same noble school three years ago.

When they were both eleven.

Annoying brat back then.

Always chasing him around the academy, demanding he "become her slave." He refused, mocked her, ignored her.

Later, she kept pestering him to "let go of Liana" so Liana could serve her instead.

He refused that too. Liana ignored her.

She was annoying back then.

But now…

Javier turned to the battlefield. His special units stood in formation, barrels lowering, safeties on. Weapons down.

Far off, the Human Kingdom soldiers were already withdrawing.

The ones who left when Kliatana gave the order. He watched them go in a long line, shields on their backs, limping, dragging the wounded. None of his units moved to chase. They just stood and watched.

Javier raised his hand.

Every construct he had made.

The special units, the knights, the drones.

One by one they dissolved into pale light and vanished, returning to his magic storage.

Silence spilled in to fill the space they left behind.

He pushed himself up, legs shaking, and stood.

All around him: the result of war.

Dead.

Useless. Without meaning.

A war that shouldn't have happened.

A war that shouldn't be fought.

He took one step. Then another.

Boots through ash and cracked stone. Broken blades. Fallen banners. The wind carried nothing but dust.

A war I never wanted to fight.

A war born from arrogance, ambition, ignorance.

A war that devoured lives… and in return, gave nothing.

Not a war of nations.

Not a war of justice.

Just a war because of one man's madness.

Javier's eyes swept across the ruined field one last time. Armor lay twisted in the dirt, weapons scattered like broken promises, and the bodies… too many to count.

The air was thick with the stench of death, smoke, and scorched soil, a weight pressing down on his chest with every breath.

He let out a slow exhale, the words slipping out in a bitter whisper.

"I hope… this kind of war never happens again."

His steps were heavy, dragging slightly as he moved past the fallen.

Because I hate it.

I hate to kill people.

They had been soldiers.

Men who have had families, dreams, and fears of their own. But here, they fought for nothing. Died for nothing.

Not for honor.

Not for freedom.

Not for the hungry or the poor.

Not for glory, or to protect those they loved.

Not even to defend their home or their faith.

Just for one man's greed… for one man's hunger to consume everything in his path.

His boots sank into the blood-soaked earth as he walked, each step echoing the same thought.

It's sickening.

He glanced down at a fallen soldier's face.

Eyes still open, staring at a sky that would never answer. Around them, broken banners fluttered weakly in the wind, their colors meaningless now.

"I hate it…" he murmured again, the weight in his voice heavier than any wound. "All of it."

As someone who had been reborn into this world, this… this wasn't what he'd wished for.

He hadn't come here for battlefields littered with corpses or skies choked with smoke.

He came to enjoy the magic.

The different races, elves, catfolk, and countless others that once only existed in fantasy.

The vibrant sights.

The clean, crisp air.

The way the world felt alive.

And above all, he had come to cherish the people here, especially in the Armand Region.

Here, they lived in true peace.

Not the fragile, political kind that trembled at the whim of kings or lords, but a peace built by the hand of one man and his family.

A real freedom.

Not the kind most imagined, but one far deeper.

Freedom to live without fear.

Freedom from hunger.

Freedom from the chains of forced belief.

Freedom from being trapped between choices that were never truly one's own.

Even if the entire land was owned, truly owned by Garius De Armand, not by titles or borrowed authority, but in the way a man owns the soil he tills and the walls he builds…

It was still the freest place Javier had ever known.

He cast one last glance over the battlefield, the stillness broken only by the whisper of the wind brushing across the lifeless forms.

Javier's gaze lingered on the twisted, shattered bodies, arms torn away, torsos split, faces unrecognizable. These were not just soldiers; they were sons, daughters, fathers, and friends… all reduced to scattered, broken pieces.

He reached into his magic storage, retrieving a small glass vial. The faint golden liquid inside shimmered with a soft glow, a potion designed not for combat, but for recovery. Without hesitation, he drank it down, feeling the gentle warmth of its restorative energy seep into his limbs.

Then he raised his hand toward the field.

"Body Restoration: Anima Reforge."

Mana surged outward from him like a silent tide, threads of light weaving through the air before sinking into the corpses. Flesh knit back together. Bones slid into place with muted clicks. Torn armor and fabric reformed over once-ruined forms.

One by one, the dead were made whole, not alive, but restored, as if they had fallen peacefully rather than in horror.

Javier looked over the field again, his breathing steady but heavy from the mana cost.

At least… this is something I can do

To ensure… at least… their families could see them one last time.

Not as broken remnants of war,

But as the people they once were.

( End Of Chapter )