The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Klaus stood motionless on the windswept plain, his crystalline eyes scanning the horizon while his mind grappled with the disturbing void where critical memories should have existed. The gap in his consciousness felt like wound that refused to heal, each attempt to probe deeper met with resistance that suggested deliberate manipulation rather than natural trauma.

Did Gluttony take my body over? The question burned through his awareness with uncomfortable intensity. Throughout his transformation, he had sensed the entity's presence lurking at edges of consciousness, waiting for opportunity to assert greater control. Yet this felt different—more sophisticated than mere possession, carrying implications that transcended simple dominance between host and parasite.

Or was it something else entirely?

The alternative possibilities were equally disturbing. Sabrina's capabilities had exceeded every projection he had formulated, her Lust-enhanced state demonstrating power that operated on cosmic scale despite her vampiric origins. Had she somehow won their confrontation and altered his memories to conceal evidence of defeat?

The uncertainty gnawed at Klaus's pride with acid efficiency. He had entered their conflict confident that his accumulated power—partial memories as Arkadius combined with Soul Energy cultivated through Icarus fragments—would prove sufficient against any threat attempting to breach the dimensional barriers separating realms. Yet the demons' casual dismissal of conventional attacks, followed by Sabrina's transcendent capabilities, had shattered illusions about his readiness for challenges that lay ahead.

My power is still lacking for what is to come, he admitted with bitter recognition that stung more than physical defeat. The realization carried weight that threatened to crush his carefully maintained composure—if beings like Sabrina represented standard opposition among entities seeking to break the veils between dimensions, how could he hope to protect anything he valued?

Klaus forced himself to catalog priorities with methodical precision that refused emotional interference. First, I need to figure out what is messing with my memories. Then I must fully understand the changes my body has undergone and find a way to improve my overall power.

The mental framework provided structure that helped contain frustration threatening to overwhelm rational thought. Whatever had occurred during his missing time, wallowing in uncertainty would accomplish nothing productive. Action required information, and information demanded investigation that might prove uncomfortable but remained necessary.

Klaus composed himself with effort that spoke to lifetimes of disciplined control, then began walking toward the capital lights visible on distant horizon. Each step carried determination that refused acknowledgment of doubt, while his transformed physiology automatically adjusted to maintain optimal efficiency across terrain that would have challenged normal human endurance.

*

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*

In the devastated mountain range where titans had clashed mere hours before, reality itself seemed to ripple as two figures emerged from dimensional space with grace that suggested mastery over fundamental forces governing existence.

The first was a man whose appearance carried dignity that transcended mere age. Though lines around his eyes and silvered hair spoke to passage of considerable time, he stood with bearing that suggested authority accumulated across epochs rather than decades. His features remained handsome despite temporal markers, carved with precision that hinted at origins beyond normal human development.

His companion appeared to be young girl of perhaps twelve years, yet her presence carried weight that made atmospheric pressure seem negotiable rather than absolute. Her beauty held ethereal quality that suggested artistic perfection rather than natural development, while white robes identical to her companion's moved with wind that touched nothing else in their vicinity.

"This is where the trace stopped," the girl observed with voice that carried musical undertones despite its apparent youth.

"It appears so," the man replied while studying the small black void that marked epicenter of Klaus and Sabrina's most devastating exchange. His analytical gaze missed no detail as he assessed residual energies that lingered despite hours of atmospheric dispersal.

The girl extended her hand with casual gesture that made physics bend around her will. The black hole—tiny as sand grain yet containing distorted space-time within its boundaries—lifted from surrounding debris to rest on her palm like captured star awaiting examination.

She brought the miniature void to her face with curiosity that bordered on academic interest, inhaling deeply to analyze constituent energies through senses that operated beyond normal olfactory function.

"Arcane and Soul energy," she announced with satisfaction of scholar confirming hypothesis through direct observation.

"The Soul energy is probably from the Fateless One," the man noted with tone that suggested long familiarity with entities whose existence transcended normal classification. His expression carried mixture of respect and concern that spoke to understanding of what such designation implied.

"The Arcane energy here differs from what we recovered where those humans called the Eternal Rift was located," the girl continued, her analytical mind processing implications with efficiency that belied her apparent age. "The signature suggests entirely different source despite similar underlying structure."

"So there are at least two different Arkdieu attempting to invade this realm," the man concluded with clinical precision that reduced cosmic threats to tactical variables requiring management.

"It would be best to assume there are more than two," the girl replied with pragmatism born of extensive experience managing dimensional incursions. "Arkdieu rarely operate in isolation when opportunities for expansion present themselves."

Her expression shifted to frustration that seemed almost comically disproportionate to her youthful appearance. "Oh, I'm so unlucky! Why is it only when I'm on patrol duty that those ugly beings mess around here?"

The man's response carried amused tolerance that suggested long acquaintance with his companion's complaints. "Well, their presence in this realm remains weak. We can't interfere yet even if we wanted to, so you still have plenty of time to be lazy."

"This is all Veraxis's fault," the girl continued with petulant tone that somehow made cosmic responsibility seem like household chore. "If he managed dimensional barriers properly, we wouldn't need to clean up after every little incursion attempt."

"Since there's nothing more to see here, let's head back," the man suggested with patience that spoke to centuries of managing temperamental colleagues whose power exceeded their emotional maturity.

"Yeah, yeah," the girl replied with resignation that suggested accepting inevitable rather than embracing duty. They began blending back into reality itself, their forms becoming translucent as dimensional space prepared to reclaim its guardians.

As they vanished completely, leaving only wind-carved stone to mark where cosmic forces had paused to investigate mortal conflicts, the devastated landscape held no trace of their presence save for missing void that had once marked the collision of transcendent powers.

*

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*

The Lionhart estate resembled battlefield more than diplomatic venue as rescue teams organized among debris that had once housed continental authority. Where magnificent ballroom had showcased imperial grandeur, now only foundation stones and scattered rubble marked location of Klaus's devastating power release.

Roman Lionhart stood at improvised command center established in what remained of the estate's eastern wing, frost patterns unconsciously spreading from his feet as he processed tactical reports that painted increasingly concerning picture. Hours had passed since Klaus had launched himself skyward in pursuit of Sabrina, yet neither combatant had returned despite sonic booms that had rattled windows across multiple territories.

"Sir," Captain Yenova approached with professional bearing that couldn't quite mask underlying concern, "reconnaissance teams report massive destruction approximately two hundred kilometers northeast. The damage patterns suggest continuation of the engagement we witnessed here."

Roman nodded with composure that concealed growing anxiety about his grandson's fate. Klaus's power had exceeded every previous display, yet Sabrina's capabilities had proven equally transcendent. The possibility that his family's prodigy might have encountered opponent capable of matching or exceeding his strength carried implications that threatened carefully constructed strategic planning.

"Organize search teams," he commanded with authority that brooked no delay. "I want our best trackers and fastest mounts deployed immediately. Coordinate with Captain Kalix and the White Lions—their enhanced reconnaissance capabilities may prove crucial for locating survivors in terrain that's been... restructured."

Captain Cesar Klein stepped forward from his position near surviving Black Lions personnel. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Does he really need us to rescue him?" Klein asked with mixture of genuine curiosity and tactical assessment. "The level of power he displayed before departure suggests capabilities that exceed anything conventional forces could provide assistance against."

The question hung in air with weight that reflected broader concerns rippling through assembled personnel. Throughout the rescue staging area, similar conversations occurred in hushed tones as soldiers struggled to reconcile their traditional role as protectors with reality of serving family that commanded individuals whose power operated on continental scale.

"Yeah, with the kind of energy he was throwing around," murmured one soldier to his companion while checking equipment for search deployment, "what exactly are we supposed to do if we find him fighting something that can match that level of destruction?"

"Maybe we're not going to rescue him," his partner replied with pragmatic assessment born of military experience. "Maybe we're going to provide evacuation support for whatever's left standing when he's finished."

Melo approached Roman's position with silent grace that marked his decades of service, golden eyes reflecting analysis that had catalogued every detail of evening's unprecedented events. "Sir, Griffin squadrons are prepared for immediate deployment. However, I must note that search area encompasses territory that may still be experiencing active combat between forces that exceed our ability to meaningfully influence."

Roman's response carried weight of leader who understood both necessity and limitation of action. "Acknowledged. Yet Klaus remains family, regardless of what he's become. We don't abandon our own, even when they've transcended need for our protection."

The statement settled over assembled personnel with mixture of pride and sobering recognition. House Lionhart's loyalty to its members wouldn't diminish despite transformation that had elevated some beyond normal human classification. Yet such loyalty might now require courage that transcended traditional concepts of battlefield heroism.

Captain Yenova raised her hand to signal assembled Griffin riders, magnificent creatures that represented pinnacle of aerial reconnaissance capability. Their enhanced senses and supernatural speed made them ideal for covering vast distances while maintaining ability to withdraw from threats that exceeded engagement parameters.

"Squadron leaders, prepare for immediate departure," she commanded with professional efficiency that masked personal concerns about mission parameters. "Primary objective is location and assessment of Klaus Lionhart's condition. Secondary objective is evaluation of threat levels in affected areas. Tertiary objective is withdrawal and reporting if engagement exceeds safe operational limits."

The Griffin riders mounted their creatures with practiced movements that spoke to years of partnership between human and supernatural beast. Each rider carried communication crystals that would maintain contact across distances that might otherwise prevent coordination, while their mounts' natural abilities provided early warning systems against threats that conventional scouts might miss entirely.

As wings spread and powerful legs gathered for launch, Roman offered final instruction that carried weight of family obligation transcending military hierarchy. "Bring him home safely. Whatever he's become, Klaus Lionhart remains our blood, and House Lionhart protects its own."

The Griffin squadron launched into darkening sky with synchronized grace that painted shadows across devastated estate, their forms diminishing rapidly as they angled toward horizon where distant mountains held secrets that might determine the future of continental power balance.

Behind them, survivors continued organizing relief efforts while grappling with realization that their world had fundamentally changed during single evening's events. The age when human capability defined limitation had ended, replaced by era where gods walked among mortals and family loyalty required courage to face cosmic forces that defied comprehension.

The search for Klaus had begun, though none could predict what they might find when gods finished playing chess with mortal lives as pieces.