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AN: The initial 7 chapters draw inspiration from 'The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman.' While the early storyline shares a common foundation, rest assured it will soon take its own unique and distinct path.
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The garden smelled like frost and dying flowers.
I stood in the moonlight, hands at my sides, breathing slowly. Everything about this moment felt deliberate—the timing, the location, even the way Damien Zagerfield had summoned me here with a single word delivered by a servant who wouldn't meet my eyes.
Come.
No explanation. No context. Just the command, and the certainty that disobeying would be worse than whatever waited in the garden.
I knew what this was. I'd known for weeks, ever since the mission to the Kael Ruins went wrong. Ever since my mana circuit shattered and I couldn't hide it anymore.
"Klaus."
His voice cut through the silence like a blade through silk. Damien emerged from the shadow of the estate's eastern wall, silver hair gleaming under the half-moon. He looked exactly as he always did—cold, composed, untouchable. The head of House Zagerfield, my adoptive father, the man who had raised seven heirs in competition and taught us that weakness was the only unforgivable sin.
"I'm here," I said, keeping my voice empty.
They'd trained that emptiness into me since childhood. No emotion. No hesitation. Just perfect, mechanical obedience. I'd been good at it. Better than the other six heirs. I'd executed missions with precision, mastered forbidden techniques, made the family powerful through my ruthless efficiency.
And then I'd broken.
"You've served the family well," Damien said, stepping closer. His presence was suffocating—not magical pressure, just the weight of absolute authority. "Your contributions as an heir candidate have been noted. House Zagerfield has prospered because of your work."
"I did my duty." The words came out flat, rehearsed.
"Yes. You did." He stopped three paces away, hands clasped behind his back. "Tell me, Klaus—do you believe an heir of House Zagerfield can afford to be broken?"
My heart stuttered. He knew. Of course he knew.
"I don't understand—"
"Your mana circuit is destroyed." His voice didn't rise, didn't sharpen. It just stated fact. "The magic circle anchoring your core is fractured beyond repair. You've been hiding it for twenty-three days, practicing basic techniques in locked rooms, pretending the damage would heal on its own."
Ice crawled down my spine. I'd been so careful. So precise. How could he possibly—
"When?" I asked, because there was no point denying it anymore.
"The Kael Ruins mission. You attempted to absorb a corrupted artifact to enhance your power, and it backfired catastrophically." Damien tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a particularly interesting specimen. "You managed to complete the mission anyway, dragging yourself back with sheer willpower. Admirable. But ultimately irrelevant."
"I can still—"
"You can't." He said it with the finality of closing a ledger. "A mage without a functioning mana circuit is a liability. An heir candidate who is a liability is a failure. And House Zagerfield does not keep failures."
The garden felt smaller suddenly. The paths between the wool-like shrubs seemed to close in, leaving only one direction: toward him, toward death.
"I see," I said quietly.
"Do you?" Damien's hand moved to the sword at his hip—a thin, elegant blade that had ended more lives than I could count. "You were the most promising of the seven. Cold. Efficient. Obedient. But you gambled on power you couldn't control, and now you're broken. There's nothing left to discuss."
He drew the blade in one smooth motion.
I didn't run. There was nowhere to go. Didn't beg—they'd trained that weakness out of me years ago. I just stood there, watching moonlight glint off the steel, and felt something crack inside my chest that had nothing to do with my shattered mana circuit.
So this is how it ends.
Not in glory. Not in battle. Just discarded in a garden like a tool that stopped working.
Damien moved with the precision of a master swordsman. The blade pierced my heart before I could draw another breath. Pain exploded through my chest—white-hot and absolute. For a moment, I felt everything: terror, rage, regret, all the emotions I'd suppressed for years flooding back in one final, useless wave.
I fell to my knees, hands clutching at the wound. Blood poured between my fingers, hot and sticky, soaking into the cold earth. My vision blurred. The world tilted sideways.
Damien withdrew the blade and stepped back, already turning away. I was already forgotten. Already erased from his calculations.
As darkness closed in, my hand found the necklace hanging beneath my shirt—the artifact I'd retrieved from the Babel Tower on my first solo mission, the one thing I'd kept for myself. My fingers closed around it weakly.
I'll remember this, I thought, the words burning into my fading consciousness. I'll come back. I'll destroy you all.
The garden disappeared. The pain disappeared. Everything disappeared.
And then—
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[Scanning host compatibility...]
[You have been chosen by Gluttony.]
[Gluttony will descend upon your body...]
[ERROR: Host vessel deceased.]
[Recalculating...]
[ERROR: Mana circuit destroyed. Magic circle fractured. Core structure unstable.]
[WARNING: Possession impossible. Host incompatible.]
[Searching for alternative integration method...]
[ERROR: No viable pathways detected.]
[CRITICAL FAILURE.]
[Aborting possession sequence...]
[...]
[Initiating emergency protocol: REINCARNATION REDIRECT.]
[Transferring consciousness to new vessel...]
[Transfer complete.]
[ERROR: Gluttony fragment status—UNKNOWN.]
[System shutting down...]
The messages scrolled through the void, cold and mechanical, as Klaus's consciousness tumbled through something that wasn't quite death and wasn't quite life. He felt himself being pulled, stretched, compressed—
And then he was screaming.
Not in words. In the formless, helpless wail of a newborn.
***
As Klaus adjusted to his new life, he couldn't help but contemplate the strangeness of it all. The memories of his past life as a formidable mage haunted him. The transition from a powerful figure in the world of magic to that of a helpless infant in a seemingly ordinary family was beyond surreal.
The world around him was a stark contrast to the one he had known. Instead of clandestine operations and manipulation of arcane powers, he was now surrounded by the simple joys of infancy—baby rattles, cooing, and the gentle lullabies of his mother.
Elisabeth was a loving presence in his life. Her warm smile and tender care were a far cry from the cold and calculated environment of House Zagerfield. Klaus couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude for her presence, even as he grappled with the oddity of his situation.
As he continued to grow, Klaus observed the world around him with an unusual level of insight. The memories of his past life were like a parallel narrative, a constant reminder of the stark contrast between his two existences. He was no longer a feared mage, but a child growing up in a world he was only beginning to understand.
Yet, Klaus's thirst for knowledge and his innate curiosity remained intact. He watched the world with a keen eye, absorbing information and experiences with an insatiable hunger. The potential for magic still resided within him, even if he couldn't access it in his current state.
In his heart, Klaus held onto the knowledge that he had once been a master of magic. The path to reclaiming that power was unclear, but he was determined to find it. The enigma of his rebirth, the memories of his past life, and the potential for magic were all pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved.
With Elisabeth as his guiding star in this unfamiliar world, Klaus embarked on a new journey—one that would lead him to discover the depths of his reborn existence and the mysteries of the magic that still pulsed within him.