At the end of towering rows of bookshelves, past floating stairs and magically hovering tomes, stood a wide table lavishly covered with items, scrolls, and documents.
At its center sat a man with hair of steel grey and eyes like deep ocean steel, sharp and unwavering.
His features were hard, carved through years of battle and command. He was tall, strong, and carried hints of the same handsomeness Reinhardt now possessed.
The man was none other than Raymond Arcknight, Reinhardt's father.
As the Duke of the prestigious Arcknight family, every gesture he made radiated quiet authority and control.
"Father." Reinhardt bowed respectfully as his voice echoed through the chamber.
At the sound, Raymond raised his head from the pile of parchment. For a heartbeat, his tired expression froze. The exhaustion that had long settled in his eyes seemed to fade, replaced by surprise and something even rarer... relief.
"When the servants told me you'd awoken, I thought they were jesting," Raymond said slowly, rising from his chair. Then his voice grew stronger. "But to see you stand before me... it really was true. The Arcknight family has regained its worthy successor… and this kingdom, its finest warrior once again!"
He walked over and grasped his son's shoulders, giving them a firm, fatherly pat that nearly knocked Reinhardt off-balance. The man's strength, though aged, was still formidable.
Reinhardt smiled faintly. From the inherited memories of this body, he knew Raymond wasn't one for soft words. His love ran silent, shown only in his relentless effort.
When the curse had first struck, Raymond had poured every resource the family had into finding a cure. At one point, he even attempted to forcibly channel holy energy through his own body, a move that had nearly killed him.
Now, looking at that same man visibly aged in just three short years, Reinhardt felt an unexpected pang of respect. For someone who was one of only a handful of level 9 warriors in the kingdom, his body should have still brimmed with vigor. Yet sleepless nights and endless burdens had clearly taken their toll.
Fortunately... Reinhardt was back. And he intended to shoulder what his father no longer should.
"Father," Reinhardt said earnestly, "work is good, but you should take care of yourself too."
Raymond laughed, a deep, genuine sound Reinhardt hadn't heard from him in the memories. "You sound just like your mother. Don't worry, boy. I'm all good now that you're standing here."
It was the first time he'd smiled this freely in years.
"Oh, have you met your mother? She stopped by not long ago."
When the conversation veered to that topic, Reinhardt faltered, his confident demeanor twitching slightly. "Y-Yeah," he replied, "I, uh… bumped into her on my way here."
Raymond's lips curved knowingly. "Your relationship with your stepmother is still as rigid as ever, I see. You should make an effort, Reinhardt. She is part of the family now. And your little brother looks up to you deeply, he's six this year, you know. Wants to become a hero just like his big brother."
Right, the memories reminded him. Arthur, his half-brother, was just three years old when he was afflicted with the curse. A bright, eager child.
"I'll meet Arthur soon," Reinhardt nodded, shifting gears. "But first, there's something important I need to discuss with you."
Raymond's amusement faded. "What is it?" he asked, his tone steady.
Reinhardt's eyes hardened. He raised his head and spoke one word: "Demons."
.
.
Later that day, on the vast training grounds of the Arcknight estate, the air thrummed with anticipation.
Every knight and paladin of the Order of the Temple of Light stood assembled, armor gleaming under the afternoon sun. Their holy insignias blazed faintly with divine light. Even among noble armies, this was no ordinary sight.
These were the elite of the elite, each clad in sacred armor forged by grandmaster smiths, their equipment so flawless it cost more than a small barony. Yet none of it represented mere wealth; it reflected Reinhardt's own legacy.
Before his fall, he'd taken the fractured Order and reforged it from scratch. He'd trained them personally—through battle, fire, and despair. Every ounce of strength they bore had been built with his own sweat and faith.
Their loyalty to him wasn't inherited. It was earned.
So when word spread that their Commander, the once-bedridden paladin, had awakened, the entire Order gathered in full force. Not a single knight was absent.
Excited murmurs rippled across the training grounds.
"The Commander's awake!"
"He's really here?"
"I heard he slew a dragon barehanded once—"
The noise grew until one man barked sharply, "Silence!"
The voice belonged to one of the Holy Knights, a rank only one step below Commander. Instantly, the chatter died. Every knight straightened in flawless formation, discipline snapping back like a drawn bowstring.
Moments later, the mansion's grand doors opened.
A small processional emerged, servants, vassals, and retainers. But at the center, walking with calm power, was the man they'd all been eagerly waiting for.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Blond hair slightly tousled, heterochromatic eyes glowing softly with divine radiance. A man whose mere presence seemed to raise every head a little higher.
Reinhardt Arcknight.
Beside him walked Duke Raymond, Karina, the family shadow, the ever-loyal Sebastian, and Anastasia, immaculate as always.
The murmurs turned into cheers as he approached. Even hardened knights were grinning like children.
Reinhardt lifted his hand slightly. Silence fell again, not out of fear, but reverence.
"Everyone," he began, his voice echoing firm and clear across the ground.
[Voice of Providence] activated naturally, carrying his words to every corner. They resonated with divine weight, but not heavy, warm instead, commanding faith, not fear.
"It has been a long time since we last met. Seeing you all unchanged and thriving brings me relief."
The Order erupted into cheers again. The mere sound of his voice seemed to energize them, as if holiness itself flowed through his speech.
Reinhardt smiled softly, raising his hand once more for quiet.
"Today, I've called you all here... for a very important reason."
His gaze sharpened, reflecting the divine authority bestowed upon him.
"I—"