The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Klaus closed his eyes.

In that moment of perfect stillness, something fundamental shifted within his transformed frame. The careful restraint he had maintained since his awakening—the iron control that had contained forces beyond mortal comprehension—finally released its grip.

When his eyes opened again, they no longer held the crystalline blue that had marked his transformation. Instead, they blazed with grayish energy that seemed to devour light itself, depths that reflected not mere power but something far more primal and terrible.

The energy erupted from his form like dam bursting after millennia of pressure. This wasn't the controlled mana manipulation he had displayed before—this was raw, untamed force that had been cultivated through countless ritual sacrifices spanning eons of human suffering. The Icarus cult's bloody work, fragments of souls offered to entities that dwelt in spaces between realities, all of it channeled through Klaus's transformed vessel.

Soul Energy.

The grayish aura expanded outward with devastating force that obliterated every structure within its reach. The reinforced ballroom—walls designed to contain magical overflow from continental powers—disintegrated like paper before hurricane. Marble columns that had stood for centuries crumbled into dust, while runic protections meant to last millennia simply ceased to exist.

The pressure that accompanied this release was beyond anything mortal minds could process. Every surviving dignitary collapsed to their knees in involuntary reverence, their bodies recognizing something so fundamentally superior that resistance became impossible. Even the Beast Emperor's enhanced physiology struggled against force that operated on level that transcended normal classification.

Roman Lionhart found himself prostrate despite decades of disciplined control, frost patterns around him sublimating directly into vapor under pressure that made atmospheric density irrelevant. Melo's legendary composure shattered entirely as his white mask cracked under stresses that exceeded physical limitation.

Kazimir's phoenix flames guttered out completely, his Meister bond providing no protection against energy that commanded deference from forces that had shaped reality's foundation. Throughout the devastated area, every conscious being knelt before power that spoke to something deeper than mere physical domination.

Only three figures remained standing.

Sabrina hovered above the destruction, her crimson eyes wide with recognition that bordered on disbelief. She had encountered Soul Energy before—felt its terrible signature during conflicts that predated current civilizations—yet witnessing its manifestation through mortal vessel struck her with shock that transcended tactical consideration.

Soul Energy, she thought with mixture of awe and calculation. How is that possible? The cultivation required spans millennia, requires sacrifice on scale that would depopulate continents. What did the Icarus cult truly accomplish?

The Beast Emperor remained upright through sheer force of will, his High-tier Golden core providing just enough enhancement to resist complete subjugation. Yet his massive frame trembled with effort that spoke to Soul Energy's absolute dominance over conventional power structures.

Alex stood swaying on his feet, Pride's golden enhancement the only thing preventing complete collapse. Within their shared consciousness, the cosmic entity's voice carried surprise that Alex had never detected before.

{Soul Energy,} Pride's mental voice held notes of genuine concern. {This should not be possible. The requirements for cultivation exceed what any mortal civilization could provide. How has he achieved manifestation of force that predates dimensional barriers?}

Before Alex could process Pride's implications fully, Klaus moved.

No one saw the transition. One moment he stood surrounded by grayish energy at the center of devastation, the next he materialized directly before Alex with speed that rendered observation meaningless. His transformed appearance had stabilized into something that transcended human classification while maintaining recognizable features—power given form through vessel that had evolved past mortal limitation.

Klaus's fist struck Alex's stomach with force that carried weight of accumulated lifetimes. The impact sent shock waves through surrounding air that shattered debris for hundreds of meters, while Alex's enhanced physiology proved utterly inadequate against Soul Energy's concentrated application.

Blood erupted from Alex's mouth as every molecule of air was driven from his lungs with violence that threatened organ failure. Pride's golden enhancement flickered like candle flame in hurricane, the cosmic entity's power simply overwhelmed by force that operated on more fundamental level than Arkdieu influence.

Alex collapsed unconscious before his body struck the ground, Pride's usually confident presence reduced to barely perceptible whisper within their shared consciousness. Klaus had demonstrated superiority that rendered previous power comparisons meaningless—Soul Energy simply operated on level that made other enhancements irrelevant.

Sabrina observed this casual devastation with expression that shifted from shock to something approaching bestial excitement. Her crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation that transcended tactical consideration—this was predator recognizing worthy prey after eons of disappointment.

Lust, she called internally, her mental voice carrying urgency that demanded immediate response.

The reply came with melodious quality that seemed to harmonize with reality's fundamental frequencies, each word carrying weight that made dimensional barriers tremble. [Child, how much are you willing to give?]

Fifty percent, Sabrina responded without hesitation, her decision made with calculating precision that weighed temporary vulnerability against necessary power increase.

[Latome.]

The single word rewrote Sabrina's physical existence with authority that brooked no resistance. Her blood-red hair darkened to pitch black that seemed to absorb light rather than merely reflecting darkness, while her crimson eyes transformed into voids punctuated only by purple pupils that held depths beyond measurement.

Shadows flowed across her skin like living liquid, creating second skin that enhanced rather than concealed her terrible beauty. From her left shoulder blade emerged wing of absolute darkness, its surface drinking light with such intensity that looking directly at it caused physical pain. The right side sprouted wing of crystallized blood—transparent red glass that refracted illumination into patterns that hurt to observe.

A small horn emerged from the left side of her forehead, its surface carved with symbols that seemed to shift between dimensions as observation attempted to fix their meaning. The transformation was complete within heartbeats, converting elegant noblewoman into being that embodied both beauty and terror in equal measure.

She was magnificent and horrifying simultaneously—divinity given form through vessel that had transcended mortal limitation through communion with entity whose power exceeded normal classification entirely.

The destroyed ballroom had scattered survivors across what was now open ground, rubble and debris marking where continental powers had gathered in civilized discourse mere hours before. Reinforcements that had been rushing toward the disturbance now formed defensive perimeter around devastation that exceeded every tactical contingency.

Captain Yenova of Éclair stood at the formation's northern edge, her legendary composure intact despite witnessing destruction that challenged fundamental assumptions about power limitations. Behind her, elite squads maintained formation despite their obvious unease at confronting forces that transcended military doctrine.

Captain Kalix of the White Lions occupied the eastern position, his enhanced senses providing clear assessment of threat levels that exceeded conventional response protocols. His squad—veterans of conflicts across multiple continents—struggled to maintain professional readiness when facing entities whose capabilities operated outside normal frameworks.

Cesar Klein commanded the Black Lions from the southern approach, his tactical genius already calculating response options to threats that defied standard classification. Yet even his enhanced strategic analysis found no precedent for managing confrontation between beings whose individual power exceeded army-scale potential.

Additional captains and their elite squads completed the encirclement, hundreds of soldiers maintaining formation around survivors who knelt in involuntary reverence while three transcendent beings prepared for conflict that would determine continental future.

Among the reinforcement squads, Nicholas Davoss stood frozen with expression of pure shock as he recognized the transformed figure hovering above the devastation. His enhanced perception—gift that had served him through countless dangerous encounters—now provided clarity he desperately wished he could reject.

Sabrina Petrova, he thought with horror that transcended personal fear. The Blood Witch. Here. Now. In form that exceeds every historical account of her capabilities.

Klaus stood amidst the devastation with grayish aura emanating from his form in patterns that made surrounding air itself seem substantial. His transformed presence commanded absolute attention despite his apparent stillness, Soul Energy creating pressure that affected reality's fundamental structure.

Alex lay unconscious at his feet, Pride's golden enhancement reduced to barely visible flicker as cosmic entity struggled to maintain coherence within vessel that had been overwhelmed by force operating on more fundamental level than Arkdieu influence.

Above them both, Sabrina hovered with wings that defied normal physics while her transformed appearance radiated power that made atmospheric conditions irrelevant. Her pitch-black eyes with purple pupils studied Klaus with calculating intensity that spoke to predator evaluating worthy opponent.

When she spoke, her voice came from multiple directions simultaneously—ethereal harmonics that seemed to bypass normal hearing and resonate directly with consciousness itself.

"I've also made up my mind," she declared with certainty that carried weight of cosmic judgment. "I will kill you no matter the cost."

The declaration hung in air between them like challenge issued between gods, its implications clear to every witness despite the devastating forces already displayed. What had begun as diplomatic gathering had evolved into confrontation between beings whose conflict would reshape the very nature of power on their continent.

The true battle was about to begin.