The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 343

Capítulo 343: A Distant Journey

The silence that followed the Arkadius System’s disappearance was profound. Klaus sat on the stone bench, the phantom blue light of the status window gone, leaving only the real world’s late afternoon sun and the enormous, comforting presence of the creature beside him. He had just confirmed his own inhuman status, measured Dudu’s terrifying growth, and understood that the next destination held the key to his next evolution: the Raikra Empire.

But first, the North.

The low, steady rumble of the Night Dragon’s breath, which had served as a soft drumbeat to Klaus’s transcendent thought process, suddenly hitched. The huge body stirred.

Dudu was waking up.

The creature’s true scale was always shocking. Even curled and drowsy, it was a mountain range of black scales. The head, massive and impossibly ancient-looking, lifted slowly from the green grass. It turned, and in a movement of surprising, fragile care, gently brushed the side of its head against Klaus.

The contact was light, a subtle drag of smooth, cold scales against his shoulder. It was Dudu’s way of asking: Are you finished thinking? Are you still here?

Klaus paused his breathing, savoring the moment. It was the purest, most uncomplicated form of affection he had ever received, untainted by politics, fear, or ambition. He lifted his hand and pressed it flat against the dragon’s snout. The scales there were like perfectly polished black marble, absorbing the light.

“I will have to go somewhere far, my little one,” Klaus said, his voice dropping to a low, melodic tone, like the quiet current of a deep river. He didn’t have to use many words; the intent, the destination—the Ice Palace—was already clear in the Meister Bond that tied them together.

The reaction was immediate and heartbreaking.

Dudu recoiled, pulling its head back just enough to look Klaus full in the face. The massive, golden eyes, filled with simple, unadulterated sorrow. It was the look of a child whose favorite toy was being taken away, yet magnified by the sheer, devastating intensity of a creature whose soul was irreversibly tied to his own.

You are leaving me again, the thought echoed in Klaus’s mind, a pure spike of sadness that almost bypassed his iron defenses. Dudu looked at him with sad eyes, utterly transparent in its distress.

Klaus felt a rare, genuine wave of tenderness wash over his calculated calm. He laughed, a short, light burst of sound that was unfamiliar to his own ears. He reached out and stroked the dragon’s large, knobby forehead.

“Don’t look so tragic,” Klaus chuckled, still stroking the tough hide. “I know what you are worried about. But I have grand plans this time.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. You will come with me on my trip to the Raikra Empire.”

The sadness vanished like morning mist. A surge of fierce joy and anticipation replaced it. The Raikra Empire. The wild, open skies. The promise of movement and battle. It was everything the Night Dragon craved, and the thought of being excluded from such a grand journey had been unbearable. Now that the journey was confirmed as shared, Dudu was instantly ready. The massive tail began to thump softly against the green grass, a sound like distant thunder.

Klaus smiled, but his expression grew calculating again. The promise to Dudu was now a certainty. The problem was the first leg of the journey: the Ice Palace.

The Ice Palace. He hadn’t thought about the logistics, relying entirely on the assumption of the Warp Gates. Now, his mind, freed from the System interface, began calculating travel times with a cold, ruthless efficiency.

The Warp Gates were the most critical infrastructure in the known world. Every major kingdom and empire possessed them, and they were the only reason this vast continent could function with any speed, allowing goods, armies, and people to cross distances that would normally take months in mere minutes. They were the linchpin of the Rikxia Empire’s immense size.

Klaus’s brow furrowed. The civil unrest within Rikxia was bad enough, but the true threat was the looming Continental War. As soon as the first serious border conflict ignited, every government on the continent would shut down their long-range gates. It was a measure of defense—a necessary precaution to prevent enemy Archmages or armies from bypassing border defenses and teleporting directly into sensitive political centers.

They will be closed, Klaus concluded with instant certainty. Roman cannot risk an enemy Archmage porting directly into the heart of the capital when the entire continent is a powder keg.

If the gates were closed, then the only option was a conventional journey. He would have to secure a high-level Griffon. His lips curled in slight distaste. The thought of days upon days of slow, arduous travel on the back of a feathered beast was an intolerable waste of time. He was a Transcendent being, a blur of motion across the continent, yet political necessity often chained him to the mundane limits of the world.

He was just beginning to mentally plot the optimal flight path for a hypothetical griffon—calculating rest stops, altitude limitations, and potential weather hazards—when a sharp, decisive knock interrupted his thought process. It came from the eastern tower’s gate.

Klaus did not move, but the next second, he was gone from the bench.

He executed a Blink, that relocated him instantly, quietly, and perfectly to the back of the massive iron door.

He merely spoke a single word into the metal. “Enter.”

The gate swung open immediately, revealing two guards and the main Estate butler, Tyrus. Tyrus, whose composure was legendary, bowed with the utmost respect upon seeing Klaus standing right there, as if he had been waiting behind the door all along.

“Young Master Klaus,” Tyrus greeted, his eyes not daring to stray toward the looming black shadow of Dudu in the garden. He held a small, polished box made of dark, aged cherry wood.

“What is it?” Klaus asked, his voice sharp and impatient.

Tyrus stepped forward, presenting the box. “It is the authority you required, Young Master. It was delivered moments ago, with express instructions that it is from the Patriarch himself, to be used in dealing with the Beast Emperor.”

Klaus took the box. It felt cool, almost cold, to the touch. He flipped the simple brass latch and opened the lid.

Inside, resting on a cushion of dark velvet, was a small, brilliant brooch. It was formed precisely in the shape of a miniature, elegant ice sword. The material wasn’t just silver; it seemed to be forged from frozen light, catching the sun and throwing back a faint, glacial blue sheen.

“What is it supposed to mean?” Klaus asked, turning the box slightly to study the artifact.

“The Emperor only stated that you should wear it on your person, Young Master. Specifically, that you must wear it visibly during your meeting with the Beast Emperor.”

Klaus stared at the brooch. It was a perfect, elegant piece of political theater. The Ice Sword was a powerful symbol, known throughout the continent as a badge of the Rikxia Emperor’s absolute authority in matters of the Northern territories. Roman was not forcing a confrontation; he was lending Klaus his crown. The brooch was a public declaration that Klaus possessed the full, unreserved backing of the Emperor. It meant that Klaus’s words, whatever they were, carried the weight of the Rikxia Empire’s ultimate command. This wasn’t a token of goodwill, but a delegation of absolute political power, designed to ensure that the Ice Palace Master, and later the Beast Emperor, understood that Roman Lionhart stood directly behind his grandson.

Klaus carefully tucked the box into the hidden pocket of his inner coat. The command was noted. He returned to the primary concern.

“Tyrus, are the Warp Gates currently operational? Specifically, the long-distance nodes leading to allied territories.”

The butler confirmed his greatest fear, producing a rolled leather tube. “I regret to inform you, Young Master, that all long-range Warp Gates are currently on security lockdown, preempting any large-scale continental conflict. Conventional travel is the only available route.”

Tyrus quickly opened the leather tube, revealing an Enchanted Map. The map was not drawn on paper but seemed to be a living image of the land, shimmering with faint, moving currents of mana.

“This artifact is an enchanted map,” Tyrus explained, his finger tracing a line that snaked north. “The exact coordinates for the Ice Palace are already marked with this permanent beacon, here. Following the most optimal, non-magical path, achieved only by constant relay of Imperial Griffons, it will take you a minimum of fifteen days from the capital.”

“Fifteen days? That far?” Klaus muttered, the distance staggering even to his wide perspective. It confirmed that the Ice Palace was not just remote; it was quite extremely far from the main power base of the Rikxia Empire, placed in a hostile, difficult-to-influence corner of the world.

“However,” Tyrus continued, delivering the Emperor’s subtle amendment, “the Emperor is fully expecting you to depart with your contracted dragon, Young Master. The journey will certainly be faster, as your dragon’s speed is, shall we say, significantly greater than any Imperial griffon.”

Klaus’s mind locked onto the implication. He had planned to leave Dudu in the Annex—an ultimate, hidden guardian to protect Elisabeth while he was gone.

But Roman had preempted this. By closing the gates and ordering the use of the dragon, the Emperor wasn’t just solving a logistical problem. He was forcing Klaus to display his greatest weapon openly, at the very doorstep of the Glacier Kingdom. He wanted Klaus to display overwhelming strength in front of the Ice Palace Master. Roman had prioritized the display of power over Klaus’s personal security concerns for Elisabeth. It meant that the current situation with the Ice Palace was probably not just strained, but genuinely dangerous, demanding an immediate show of force.

Tyrus delivered the final, non-negotiable command.

“He also said that you don’t need to report back to him, Young Master, no matter the result of your meeting with the Ice Palace. You are to proceed directly to the Raikra Empire afterward. There is to be no return to the capital until your second mission is complete.”

The butler bowed one last time, deep and precise. “I have delivered the Patriarch’s orders, Young Master. I will now take my leave.”

With a rustle of fine cloth, Tyrus turned and exited through the gate, and the heavy metal doors were softly sealed, leaving Klaus alone once more.

Klaus looked at Dudu, who was now bouncing lightly on its claws, eager for the command to fly. The immense creature, its fear of being left behind completely forgotten by the promise of the Raikra Empire, radiated only anticipation.

Klaus gave a short, dry chuckle, shaking his head slightly. The political games were as exhausting as the celestial ones.

“I guess you were sad for nothing, Dudu.”

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