Damn Reincarnation

"It fits well," Gondor said with a content expression. He had been puffing on a pipe, but now, he placed it down.

Ten days had passed since they set sail. The shortened journey meant the forge work had to hasten, but quality couldn't be compromised due to the reduced work time. By trimming even his sleeping hours, Gondor managed to complete the two suits of armor that had been commissioned by Eugene.

"It's incredibly light."

"Right? There's no hindrance in movement. It feels as if I'm wearing nothing at all."

Ciel and Dezra exclaimed in delight as they inspected each other's armor. They were both impressed by the design. Despite the armor covering the chest and abdomen fully, there was no discomfort when they bent their bodies.

Curious about the armor’s strength, Ciel flexed her fingers and summoned sword-force. She gently brushed it against the armor's surface.

The sword-force blade Ciel used remained intact against the armor, and the mana surrounding the armor also remained unshattered. The armor itself seemed unaffected, without even a hint of vibration. Feeling amazed, Ciel intensified her sword-force, but even then, not a single scratch appeared on the armor.

"It's made from the scales of an Ancient Dragon, particularly one known to be extremely old. A blade of that caliber won't leave a mark," Gondor explained.

"Seems we won't die from a blade anytime soon,” commented Dezra, impressed.

"Don't be foolish, Dezra. Just because you wear good armor doesn't mean you can be reckless. It only protects your torso after all,” said Ciel while dismissing her sword-force with a click of her tongue.

Gondor chuckled while taking another puff from his pipe, "Indeed. If we had more time, I would have made a full-body suit.” Sighing, he continued, “But that's currently beyond our capacity."

With Sienna's magic, the voyage to the Solgalta Sea, which would have initially taken about a month, had been cut nearly in half. Barring any unforeseen events, they would enter the waters of the Solgalta Sea in five days.

Certainly, crafting armor for other body parts was feasible, but Gondor had another pressing task. He had to fashion a glove for Carmen Lionheart's left hand, a job she requested specifically. He planned to start immediately to finish on time.

"About that," Ciel said, "Lady Carmen wants the Lionheart emblem engraved on the back of the glove."

"Engraving… on dragon scales…. Hmm, that isn't an easy feat. Let her know I will finish the intricate work after the raid," Gondor replied after a small pause.

The task of creating a glove from dragon leather and scales tailored to the finger joints was challenging enough by itself. To make matters even worse, what Carmen sought was no ordinary glove but a close-combat weapon capable of striking, grasping, and clawing. Until now, Carmen fought solely with her Heaven Genocide on her right hand. But she felt that wouldn't suffice for the upcoming battle.

"How's Mister Eugene holding up? It's been rare seeing his face," Gondor wondered aloud.

Raimira had been lounging on a couch on one side of the room, but upon hearing Eugene's name, she sat upright. She wiped some soot smudged on her lips and exclaimed, "This lady has been using my breath for him tirelessly for ten days! This lady is working so hard, yet why hasn't Benefactor come to praise me!?"

"Eugene's extremely busy," Ciel explained.

"This lady is busy too! But... if Benefactor truly is occupied, this lady will not steal any of his time," Raimira murmured, somewhat mollified.

She collapsed back onto the sofa, exhaustion evident in her crooked form. She'd been confined to Gondor's workshop throughout the ten-day voyage. Revealing herself to the other crew members had been out of the question, primarily because she was required to aid Gondor by blowing breaths and assisting him with Draconic whenever he worked.

Once a day, Mer and Kristina, the only ones who were relatively free, would visit to offer a brief respite. But not once had Eugene set foot in the workshop. True, he was… busy, but more so because he detested leaving his chamber.

"Mer and Stepmother mentioned that Benefactor has been constantly eyeing the ring these past few days," Raimira remarked.

"Stepmother…?" Ciel looked at Raimira with a quizzical expression. There was no need to ponder on who this title of stepmother referred to. Memories of the multiple slaps she had received and of the girl who had silently consoled her throughout the night surfaced in Ciel’s mind. Indeed, Kristina was a woman worthy of being called a mother.

"Hmm…. He seems to be trying to discern something from that ring," Ciel mused.

"When I polished it, nothing seemed amiss," Gondor commented.

"I'm not aware of the details either," Ciel responded. But that was a lie. She knew.

Agaroth, the ancient God of War, had shown Eugene a vision through his divine artifact, Agaroth’s Ring. It was likely a memory of the distant past. But why had Agaroth shown this memory to Eugene? No one knew the exact reason. However, Ciel knew one thing for certain: the ancient God of War had chosen Eugene.

‘In this era,’ Ciel thought, ‘there's probably no one closer to war than you.’

Be it in his past life as Hamel or in this life as Eugene Lionheart, war was always present around him.

Whether he intended it or not, battles always erupted where he was. He wasn’t bringing mere skirmishes but wars that had the potential to reshape the era. And these wars always ended with the possibility of an upheaval, thanks to Eugene's presence and victories.

What if Eugene hadn’t been present at the Black Lion Castle when Eward had rebelled?

Or in the Samar Forest when Edmund had aimed to become the Demon King?

Two immediate instances sprang to Ciel's mind. The Lionheart family would have fallen, and Eward would have become the Demon King without Eugene’s presence at the Black Lion Castle. Similarly, in the Samar Forest, Edmund would’ve achieved his aim of becoming the Demon King in Eugene’s absence.

Eugene had already thwarted the rise of a new Demon King twice.

But Eugene had been entangled in numerous wars, even in matters unrelated to the Demon Kings, and each of them had the magnitude to induce significant shifts in their current times.

‘How distant….’ This thought couldn’t help but cross Ciel’s mind. She felt an immeasurable distance between herself and Eugene whenever she contemplated these matters. In comparison to him and those around him, Ciel felt insignificant.

She had draped her black armor with a cloak, realizing the nickname 'White Rose' would no longer suit her. With a faint smirk, she left the workshop alongside Dezra.

However, she didn't merely want to watch from a distance just because she felt far apart from Eugene. She had already made up her mind about that. Hoping from a distance, wishing for him to approach or change his mind without making a move, was absolutely pitiable.

Ciel mused on such thoughts before turning her head with a sly grin and grumbling, "If only he had not been a prince."

"Yes, I, too, wish to pluck out his eyes," Dezra responded with a mockingly deadpan tone.

The two could feel a blatant, lingering gaze from a distance. It was from the flagship Laversia and, more precisely, from Prince Jafar aboard it. Every time Ciel appeared on the deck, Prince Jafar shamelessly observed her through his enchanted telescope.

"Why doesn't he just come and speak if he's going to stare like that?" Ciel said in an irritated tone.

"Would you entertain his words?" Dezra shrugged and asked rhetorically.

"Do you think I’ve gone crazy? I might just tell him to piss off,” Ciel replied while ambling across the deck.

She thought of entering the inner cabin but changed her mind. She did not want to disturb Eugene and others who might be focused on their tasks inside.

"Let's go to Lady Carmen,” said Ciel.

"Again? We already trained this morning...!" Dezra complained from behind her, but Ciel ignored it, not even bothering to respond.

***

Maise’s powerful spell amplified the fleet’s speed manifold. Any suspicions arising from it were Ortus' matter to deal with, while Sienna's task was to prevent the expedition's intel from leaking.

There were no traitors — that was Sienna's conclusion. In recent days, attempts to leak information outside were not absent. Surprisingly, none came from the Slad Mercenary Group, which possessed battle wizards. Instead, there had been several attempts to leak the information from the naval forces of Shimuin and the various gladiators participating in the punitive mission.

Magic-powered long-range communication devices were designed to report the expedition's situation to the royal palace. Still, Sienna daringly blocked even these communications, unsure if the intel would eventually reach Iris.

She had little to say about the gladiators. They had various reasons behind their attempts to leak intel: either to make money by passing it to the information guild or to their own nation's intel agency. The Pirate Empress subjugation expedition was drawing attention from across the continent. However, Sienna had no patience for such matters.

"I'd love to throw them all into the sea,” Sienna clicked her tongue while sitting in the center of a magic circle.

She had restricted herself to only blocking communication since taking care of these people attempting to leak the information as she liked would likely cause problems for her later. However, she felt dissatisfied at leaving the perpetrators untouched.

Thankfully, there were no signs of anyone colluding with Helmuth... but this was an assumption. She didn’t have enough information to be certain. Indeed, there were sure to be other ways to communicate with Helmuth through other indirect channels.

"How is Princess Scalia?" Sienna asked.

"I feel no Dark Power from her. However, her insomnia persists," Kristina murmured with half-closed eyes from her seat opposite Sienna.

Scalia Animus had been previously attacked by the Queen of the Night Demons. The incubus that once invaded Scalia's consciousness was slain in front of Eugene and Kristina.

Yet, any precedent demanded caution. Night demons excelled at exploiting human vulnerabilities, and once they found a connection — they could well again interfere during times of unstable mental states.

"Do you think Noir Giabella might intervene?" Kristina asked, concerned.

"It's not impossible. But I don’t think that whore will cause trouble," Sienna answered.

Both Anise and Eugene agreed with this assessment. Noir Giabella wouldn't side with Iris, but she also did not seem the type to aid in Iris' demise.

Continuing her thoughts, Sienna said, "That whore remains the same, whether three hundred years ago or now. She’s completely obsessed with sensual pleasures and attention. Moreover, she knows about Eugene being Hamel, right? And about me. Kristina, does she know of you, too?"

"She might not. Or maybe she does. I can’t be completely certain. She could be speculating,” responded Kristina.

"We can't hide it forever. At this point, rather than half-failing at trying to hide it, it will be better to hit her hard,” stated Sienna.

Eugene had been silently listening to this conversation but now twisted his lips into a wry smile.

He couldn’t be certain, but there was still a chance. Perhaps Noir Giabella would show herself during this battle. If so, she would use Princess Scalia’s body as a vessel.

"I certainly hope she comes." Kristina grinned, then closed her eyes again, drawing forth the light as she had always done. In harmony with Kristina’s light, Sienna manipulated her mana.

Eugene extended his left hand. Akasha began to resonate once more with Agaroth's Ring.

Engraved upon Akasha was the Draconic etched by Ariartel to locate Raizakia. While Raizakia had been found and eliminated long ago, the spell remained inscribed on Akasha even after having fulfilled its purpose. Until now, Eugene had effectively used this Draconic spell. It had come in handy during his search for the Fount of Light. When used on the Moonlight Sword, it revealed a mysterious connection between the Demon King of Incarceration and Vermouth.

Agarot's Ring.

He had attempted to use the Draconic on the object numerous times but saw nothing.

‘No, it's revealing itself little by little,’ Eugene corrected himself.

This Draconic spell revealed the connection of the object it was cast on. When he used it on Raimira, it traced the location of Raizakia, who was bound to her by blood. When cast upon the divine artifact of the Tressia Cathedral, the jawbone of an ancient Saint, it pursued the Fount of Light, where the Saint's blood was pooled.

Agaroth's Ring.

Now, this ring was intertwined with Eugene. Before him, it was with Ariartel, and even before that, it was buried in a dragon's unnamed treasure trove.

But they weren't the true masters of the ring. As the name "Agaroth's Ring" suggested, its master was Agaroth.

‘Getting closer…,’ Eugene thought.

He closed his eyes, entirely focusing on the Draconic spell.

‘It feels nearer,’ Eugene thought confidently.

He saw nothing when he was on the island. And even after embarking on the sea, he saw nothing. But when he concentrated to the extreme, he could "hear" sounds.

There was the bubbling sound of frothing waves, the constant crash of the tides, and the wind that swirled deep and then broke free.

And since yesterday, there had been screams. It may sound odd, but those screams... were eerily calm. From an unimaginably distant or deep place, they sounded like trapped winds that couldn't escape — whispers so faint and serene they seemed dead and unable to rage against their fate.

Aaaaaaaaaah!

Eugene bit his lip, eyes shut tight. The ship continued its course, drawing ever closer to the waters of Solgalta. Somewhere within, Agaroth's sanctuary might lie hidden.

Could it be because they were getting closer? Sounds that had once been inaudible began to intermingle. Behind the eerie silence, there were screams, not of calm but filled with defiance and anger.

And it wasn't just screams, either. There were sobs, and they didn't belong to a crowd. Only one soul wailed in agony.

At the end of the prolonged lament, a thud echoed, followed by the clang.

The sound was reminiscent of a closing door.

***

She had a dream.

She had this dream countless times before, so often that she had lost count. It was always the same dream. The dream’s frequency increased, now becoming a nightly affair. It was not a nightmare but a sweet, nostalgic, and ever-enticing dream. It was a dream she couldn’t get sick of.

Once again, she saw a massive back and kind, embracing hands. A gentle smile shone brilliantly and ever so clearly through the hazy curtain. The dream journeyed forward, following the steps of one leading the way.

All the siblings moved together in the dream. A few steps ahead, the grand silhouette gradually distanced itself, casting a shadow that enveloped them all. It was a dream where all the siblings gazed upon the back of their father, whom they held in utmost respect and love.

It was a vision absent in memory but perceived as a destined revelation in the dream. But they never reached the end together.

In the dream's finale, their father knelt. Iris and her siblings approached him, but at that moment, the dream world got submerged in water. Everything vanished, drowning deep below.

The father, Iris, and her other siblings — all were lost.

‘It's different,’ Iris realized.

The dream was always the same.

Yet, this time was different. As everything sank and vanished into nothingness, a heart-wrenching cry echoed from within the thick mist. The despairing wail was distorted, but at the very end, just at the brink of fading, Iris managed to discern a single phrase: I'm sorry.

The dream was both nostalgic and painful, as well as heart-wrenching.

This time, it felt like a nightmare.

With a scream, Iris jolted awake.

"Princess!"

Alarmed by the scream, a dark elf lieutenant rushed in. Gasping for breath, Iris covered her damp eyes with both hands.

Beneath the cover of her hands, she saw something amidst the limited vision.

"We found it," breathlessly, Iris murmured.

"We've found it, haven't we?" Iris asked once again, a bit louder.

In the darkness, the silhouette of a door began to take form.