The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Alex directed a triumphant gaze at Klaus and Nicholas, a self-assured grin playing on his lips. He reveled in the realization that he had just achieved something extraordinary—the profound silence that enveloped the entire Lion Arena serving as a testament to his exceptional feat. Even Rick, the seasoned instructor, found himself at a loss for words, his gaze fixed on Alex with a mix of shock and bewilderment.

The stupefaction extended beyond Rick to almost every soul in the audience. It was an inexplicable spectacle—a twelve-year-old displaying a power akin to someone wielding a High-tier cyan core. The sheer absurdity of it all left the onlookers grappling with disbelief. Despite Alex’s reputation as a prodigious talent, the magnitude of what had just transpired appeared ludicrous.

The chasm between a green core and a cyan core was typically insurmountable, akin to the heavens and the earth. Even within the same core tier, the disparities were vast, making it uncommon for a lower-tier individual to rival the prowess of their higher-tier counterparts. Techniques and aura manipulation could occasionally bridge these gaps, but what Alex demonstrated surpassed any logical explanation. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The collective astonishment deepened when considering that reaching the high-tier cyan core marked the threshold of becoming a novice swordmaster. Traditionally, even the most exceptional geniuses attained such a status in their early twenties. Yet here stood Alex, a mere twelve-year-old, not only at the high-tier green core stage but also rivaling the might of a novice swordmaster. The revelation left the audience, including Raoul Lionhart, Alex’s father, in a stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the young prodigy who had just rewritten the rules of mastery.

Alex, his chest swelling with pride, absorbed the profound silence that hung in the arena like an echo of his triumph. The gasps of disbelief from the onlookers formed a harmonious chorus, underscoring his undisputed supremacy among the trainees.

The solemnity of the arena was abruptly shattered by a burst of laughter, robust and resonant, that reverberated like thunder, capturing the undivided attention of everyone present. The laughter, a symphony of mirth, accompanied by a cascade of claps, originated from the source of all eyes—the patriarch himself, Roman Lionhart. His joyous exclamations, "HAHA HAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAH HAHAHAHA," filled the air, an uncontainable expression of amusement.

"That’s my grandson for you! HAHAHAHA marvelous. Truly marvelous. HAHAHAHA HAHAHA," Roman declared, his laughter joining the collective merriment that gradually enveloped the audience. Initially uncertain how to react, the spectators soon succumbed to the infectious laughter, transforming confusion into shared amusement.

Amidst the laughter, Rick, the seasoned instructor, cleared his throat, a deliberate act to regain control of the moment. "Impressive display of power. You are truly a genius among geniuses, as people say about you," Rick praised Alex with genuine admiration, his voice cutting through the laughter and carrying to every corner of the arena. Stay tuned to empire

"Trainee 16, Alex Lionhart—Pass!"

The proclamation jolted the audience into a collective eruption of applause and cheers, an acknowledgment resonating through the arena. With strides exuding confidence, Alex returned to his designated spot, casting a smirking glance at Klaus and Nicholas. In that triumphant moment, he held an unwavering belief that their forthcoming attempts would inevitably pale in comparison.

***

In the face of Alex’s ostentatious demeanor and the formidable display of power, Klaus remained unfazed. He understood that Alex, much like himself, experienced an unusually rapid rate of growth compared to ordinary individuals. Even Alex’s blatant challenge, accentuated by a mocking smirk, failed to ruffle Klaus’s calm demeanor. In his eyes, Alex was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum—a transient disturbance that left Klaus unaffected.

Nicholas, on the other hand, found himself grappling with the unexpected changes in the timeline. In the memories he retained, the Aequalis Array had no role in their tests. Their evaluations typically involved showcasing power and executing techniques on the Mythril crystal. Given Alex and Nicholas’s comparable power levels at the high-tier green core, their usual course of action would involve a friendly sparring session to determine the first ranker. However, in this altered timeline, despite being at the High-tier green core stage, Alex exhibited a power output akin to someone possessing a high-tier cyan core.

The past had once again undergone a metamorphosis, and the inexplicable surge in Alex’s strength perplexed Nicholas. His suspicions turned to the person he believed to be the catalyst behind these temporal shifts—the one responsible for rewriting the course of history.

As the currents of time swirled around him, Nicholas’s thoughts reverberated with the weight of revelations. ’It’s all because of him!’ His accusatory internal refrain echoed through the labyrinth of his mind as his gaze bore into Klaus, the elusive architect of temporal shifts.

Compelled by the irresistible pull of destiny, Nicholas strode purposefully toward the nearest Mythril crystal, its imposing presence a silent witness to the unfolding enigma. His eyes, a mirror reflecting the myriad reflections of the past and the uncertain future, fixated on the crystalline structure with a pensive intensity.

In the hushed confines of his contemplation, Nicholas grappled with the limitations of his current state. Even unleashing his full potential would fall short of emulating the power akin to one possessing a high-tier cyan core. The prospect of reaching only the mid-tier loomed before him, casting shadows on the aspirations he once held. A glimmer of hope emerged as he contemplated the latent power of Rune Art—a formidable arsenal within his grasp, capable of pushing the boundaries of his abilities.

However, the weight of secrecy hung heavy in the air. Nicholas hesitated, reluctant to unveil the full extent of his capabilities. The audience, oblivious to the intricacies of his internal strife, witnessed a solemn figure standing before the Mythril crystal, an embodiment of untapped potential restrained by the looming presence of a man with long black hair and gloomy eyes. This mysterious spectator, positioned inconspicuously in the commoner section, observed Nicholas with a calculating gaze—a harbinger of shadows in the tapestry of destiny.

Nicholas, lost in contemplation, discreetly surveyed the commoner section, where his eyes collided with the inscrutable man.

’There he is—the architect of the Lionhart family’s demise and the catalyst for the Rikxia Empire’s fall,’ Nicholas pondered, his gaze unwavering on the figure with long black hair and gloomy eyes. In that brief exchange, an unspoken tension hinted at a future clash of destinies.