The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 330

Chapter 330: The Sound of War

The first deep, resonating BONG struck the air, followed by a second, then a third, and finally, a fourth. The massive sound was not just loud; it was primal, shaking the very earth beneath our feet and vibrating deep in our bones. It was the sound of iron meeting fate.

We stood frozen by the cemetery gates, the white markers of my fallen team silent witnesses behind us.

Alexandra’s hand shot out and clamped onto my arm, her fingers digging in tight. She was trembling, her eyes wide with a cold, pure fear that was not for herself, but for what the sound meant.

“That… that’s it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the fading metallic thrum. “That’s the Meddas Bell.”

“The Meddas Bell?” I asked, confused. I’d spent this life in this territory, yet the name was unfamiliar. “What is that? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

She shook her head, pulling a scrap of memory from some old lore or garrison talk. “I’m not sure, I just remember Captain Kalix mentioning it once. He said it was the bell of last resort. It was only rung when the Rikxia Empire—or what’s left of its high command—had decided on total, immediate war. When it rings, every high-ranking officer and major unit is summoned back to the Lionhart Estate, right now.”

The weight of the sound wasn’t in its name, but in its consequence. This was a command from the highest authority, a mandate that shredded any hope of quiet reflection or hiding from the world.

My gaze drifted back to the quiet rows of markers for Team 55. Their deaths happened over a year ago, during the mission where I lost consciousness and, by all rights, should have died myself. Since waking a few weeks ago—fused with the Icarus Fragments and overwhelmed by past life memories—I had been existing in a haze, a transcendent state that made the immediate pain of my failure seem distant and unimportant. I was so focused on being above mortal matters that I had ignored my duty to the dead. But the deafening BONG of the Meddas Bell was a slap of cold, hard steel, shattering my confusion and detachment.

The Lionhart army was mobilizing. The war was no longer an abstract threat; it was at our doorstep, demanding immediate obedience.

I won’t be passive anymore.

I didn’t need to resolve my past or understand my current changes right now. My duty was clear and immediate. Before I could face myself, I had to be a leader for the living. I had to fulfill my promise to the dead.

I took a slow, deep breath, pulling my focus completely into the present moment. The internal tension—the paralysis—snapped, replaced by the sharp, familiar focus of a soldier.

“I will do better,” I said, not to Alexandra, but to the graves behind me.

Alexandra offered a grim nod, understanding that my time for introspection was over. I gave a quick, final glance at the cemetery and pulled myself up into the saddle.

“We ride,” I commanded.

* * *

They wheeled the horses and started back toward the Lionhart Main Estate. The quiet road they had taken moments before had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, continuous roar—the sound of thousands of hooves, armored boots, and clanking war machinery.

Their canter was instantly impossible. They dismounted, pulling their nervous horses to a halt. The main thoroughfare had become a living, unstoppable torrent, a military river all flowing directly toward the central command.

The air was thick and heavy, saturated with sweat, hot leather, and the electric fear of focused adrenaline. Klaus immediately felt the pressure, forcing them to push violently into the massive, organized stream of soldiers. It was like fighting their way upstream against a bursting dam.

The first waves belonged to the core of the Rikxia forces. Rank after rank of soldiers in the light-blue and silver of the White Lion poured past—Klaus and Alexandra’s own corps.

As they struggled through the forward current, many of these White Lion soldiers instantly recognized Alexandra. As the Emperor’s granddaughter, she was an iconic and famous figure known widely across the military command structure. Even as officers ran full tilt, their faces set in grim determination, dozens managed a sharp, respectful dip of the head in her direction—a rapid, battlefield acknowledgment of rank and lineage.

But they all ignored the man beside her. Klaus, the team leader of team 55, was utterly unrecognizable. His slender frame and the shocking contrast of his pure white hair where silver strands had once been made him a total stranger. The transformation was too profound. They saw only a random man struggling against the surge, not a comrade in the command structure. He was invisible.

Following them were the darker, heavily armored forces of the Black Lion, the defensive and siege specialists. These units formed a slow but immensely powerful wall of steel.

Then came the corps known only in hushed, reverent whispers: the Eclair. The Empire’s chosen vanguard, they specialized in impossible speed and absolute precision. Their armor was a deep, metallic charcoal that moved as a single, flawless, terrifying entity. Their presence, moving toward the front, was a clear sign that the war the Meddas Bell called for was of the highest magnitude.

Behind them flowed units known for their specialized war mounts, the heavy cavalry teams, and the shimmering, copper-plated armor of the Winged Tigers, known for devastating airborne assaults. Klaus realized the terrifying truth of the mobilization: White Lion, Black Lion, and Eclair were just the beginning. This was a call for every soldier, from every corner, to converge on the manor.

Above, the sky was a mess of motion as massive war mounts, the powerful, screaming Griffons, circled and descended toward the courtyards.

Then came the assets that truly chilled Klaus to the bone: Mana-Forged Siege Engines. Massive, black, rolling vehicles, designed for breaking the walls of ancient strongholds, were being towed at a staggering pace. These machines were only deployed for full-scale continental conflicts—for threats capable of destroying whole cities. This was the total declaration of global war.

Klaus fought his way through the crush, pulling Alexandra and the horses into a small, relatively safe pocket by a marble fountain near the main gate. He needed a moment to breathe and observe the overwhelming chaos they had just pushed through.

It was in this moment of brief respite that he saw him.

A small unit of soldiers in dark, obsidian-like armor stood a short distance away. They were unlike the others; they weren’t rushing. Their formation was tight, still, and radiating a cold, lethal readiness that cut through the surrounding chaos. They were clearly not part of the standard Rikxia forces—their armor and discipline spoke of something far more secretive, far more specialized than even the Eclair.

The man leading them was enormous, built like an iron pillar, yet his presence was defined by absolute, unyielding calm. He wore the high-collared uniform of the Lionhart beneath a heavy, black, floor-length coat that seemed to absorb the light. His iron-gray hair was pulled back from a face carved from granite. His hands were clasped behind his back, a posture of supreme, indifferent confidence. He and his unit were observing the flow, but only when Klaus was forced close did the man’s attention shift.

His dark, ancient eyes, which had been distant, suddenly fixed on Klaus’s face.

The man paused, and then, a flicker of something cold and sharp—not recognition of Klaus, but of the dangerous energy between the two of them—crossed his face. He recognized that Klaus was one of theirs, but changed.

He took a single, slow, deliberate step away from his unit, moving with an unnerving, unstoppable grace that commanded attention. He ignored the thousands of soldiers rushing around him. His terrifying authority focused entirely on the pair of them, but his final, intense gaze settled, like a hammer blow, solely on Alexandra.