The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 332

Chapter 332: The Ant and the Chessmaster

My mind went blank the moment I heard the name. My father. My current self’s father. I stood still amidst the overwhelming tide of the Lionhart army, waiting for Greed’s inevitable, sneering laugh. I waited for the cruel punchline that would dissolve the moment of terror.

‘My father? You are joking, right?’ I projected my mental voice, the query sounding less like a question and more like a desperate denial.

But no jest followed. Instead, I felt a sharp, cold slap of consciousness against the inside of my skull as Greed reiterated the fact.

{The most dangerous man I met while forming a contract with you is Ludovic Lionhart. The power I sensed from him far exceeds that of your current self. He hides it incredibly well, but the Great Me is too great to be fooled by this level of concealment. Hmph. This is all I will say for now. Knowing more will probably do you more harm than good.}

Greed’s consciousness then pulled away, a decisive retreat that felt like a slammed door, signaling the end of the conversation.

If Greed was telling the truth—and the sheer, arrogant weight of his conviction suggested he was—it meant my father was currently more powerful than me. More powerful than a Fifth-Circle Mage who had merged with a splinter of a celestial being. Greed, having seen the raw, chaotic expanse of my sea of consciousness, knew exactly what I could do, the scale of my Icarus Fragment power. Yet, he stood by his assessment: Ludovic Lionhart, the man supposedly crippled by a broken mana core, the shame of the Lionhart family, was the greater threat.

How?

How could I possibly take this as anything other than a sick joke? This was the same man who was cast away by Roman Lionhart, the man who was looked down upon by every member of the collateral line, despite being the Patriarch’s own son. The man who allowed my mother, Elisabeth, to live in shame for years, enduring the snickers and lowered glances directed at his fallen status.

If he possessed power that transcended even my current ‘god-like’ capabilities, why? Why endure the ridicule? Why allow my mother and sister to suffer the years of quiet humiliation? Why the massive, crippling lie?

Anger began to rush through me, hot and blinding, instantly overshadowing the intellectual curiosity of the past few minutes. The cold, logical part of my mage brain—Klaus Zagerfield—was silenced by the raw fury of Klaus Lionhart, the son who felt utterly betrayed.

I knew that to gain the power I now possessed, hundreds of thousands of lives were sacrificed by the Icarus Cult over thousands of years, all to strengthen a piece of Arkadius’s shattered celestial form. The power I wielded was steeped in the blood of countless dead, making it inherently dirty. I knew it was all part of Arkadius’s ultimate plan to groom the perfect vessel.

Then where did Ludovic’s power come from?

Was he a willing piece in Arkadius’s dark chess game? Was my very rebirth as Klaus Lionhart, the one with the darkness and the strange destiny, something Arkadius planned with Ludovic’s insidious help? Was the whole life of shame just a performance for the world?

Without realizing it, I let the raw, volcanic surge of my anger escape. My carefully constructed layers of concealment—the mental walls I used to look like a mere civilian—cracked.

The pressure wasn’t just power; it was pure, untethered celestial weight.

I was so engrossed in the sudden, terrifying rush of betrayal that I only registered the consequence when I felt a small, desperately struggling hand clamp onto my boot.

I looked down. Alexandra, her face pale and contorted, was suffocating on the ground, reaching out, her fingers trying to pull me back from whatever trance I was in.

But it wasn’t just her. All around me, the thousands of soldiers in the courtyard were on the ground, chests heaving, struggling to resist the immense, invisible pressure my unleashed energy was emitting. The military tide had crashed, all of them humbled and broken by an energy they couldn’t even name.

Except for one man.

Roland Lionhart stood tall and unmoving, his hands still clasped behind his back. The cold smile on his mouth had widened into something sharp and predatory, as if he had just confirmed a highly entertaining hypothesis. He looked directly at me—not with fear, but with a hunter’s satisfaction.

*. *. *.

When Klaus finally snapped back to the present, the silence was deafening, broken only by the ragged gasps of thousands of soldiers. In the massive courtyard, the chaos of mobilization had given way to an eerie, humiliating stillness.

Thousands of men, including veteran officers and decorated Captains, were prostrate or struggling on their knees. A few dedicated, high-ranked men were attempting to push back up, their faces crimson with the effort and the shame of being so easily overpowered. Only one figure remained entirely unaffected: Roland Lionhart. He stood like a monument of black steel, his expression of quiet amusement unchanged, his eyes locked on Klaus.

Realizing the magnitude of what his momentary lapse of control had done, Klaus quickly slammed the mental barriers back into place, concealing every trace of his internal energy. The pressure vanished instantly, leaving only the panicked confusion in its wake.

“What was that pressure?”

“Who is that monster?”

“Is he an enemy?”

“No, I recognize him from Young Master Alex’s recognition ball…”

“Yes, that’s… Klaus Lionhart!”

“No way! The team leader of team 55?”

Murmurs erupted, laced with fear and disbelief. The awe in their eyes was instantly replaced by terror—the raw, animalistic fear of a superior predator.

Klaus looked back down at Alexandra, who was coughing violently, clutching her chest, desperately trying to steady her breathing. She had been standing next to him, making her the most affected by the concentrated burst. Klaus quickly bent down and helped her up.

“Sorry, AL,” he murmured, guilt thick in his eyes.

She coughed once more, then forced a weak grin. “Don’t mind it. As you said, I really need more training,” she replied, her attempt at a joke easing the knot of guilt in Klaus’s chest, making the terrified looks of the other soldiers seem less important.

As he held her steady, the massive double doors leading to the Lionhart Main Hall suddenly burst open. Two figures emerged: the massive, imposing figure of Melo, the Patriarch’s right-hand man, and the meticulous Main Butler.

They looked down at the collapse of soldiers with profoundly confused expressions. Seeing the two highest authorities of the estate, the soldiers on the ground scrambled back to their feet, faces red with effort and the intense shame of being caught in such a posture.

Roland Lionhart merely watched, his intense gaze shifting from Klaus back to the courtyard entrance, his silence speaking volumes. He had found what he was looking for.

The Main Butler cleared his throat, his posture impeccable despite the chaos. He unfolded a parchment and looked out over the assembled, silent army. His voice, amplified by a hidden artifact, carried across the entire estate.

“By order of the Rikxia Emperor, Roman Lionhart, all officers and mobilized forces are commanded to heed this decree. The Meddas Bell has tolled its warning, signaling the gravest threat in a century.”

He paused, his eyes sweeping across the multitude, ensuring the weight of his words settled on every man.

“The contents of this scroll concern the immediate mobilization and readiness for total war.”

He took a slow, deliberate breath, his voice dropping to a cold, frightening declaration that echoed across the entire estate.

“The enemy has been identified: The Coalition of the Five Monarchs. Their combined armies—excluding the Beast Emperor—have officially mobilized on our borders. The Rikxia Empire has no choice but to respond in kind.”

“Therefore,” the Butler announced, the final words striking like a hammer blow, “The Rikxia Empire is formally declaring war on the entire Runiya Continent!”