The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Sitting on a plush, deep-green velvet sofa in the lavishly decorated living area, Klaus felt the beginnings of a massive headache forming at the base of his skull. The ornate room, with its rich tapestries, heavy drapes, and antique furnishings, usually offered him a sense of comfort and quietude. But now, the very luxury that once soothed him only served to amplify his irritation.

’I should probably go see that grandfather of mine,’ Klaus mused, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ward off the impending migraine. ’But if they managed to arrive at the annex without being stopped by the guards, it probably means he authorized it.’

Klaus felt a twinge of annoyance as he considered the unexpected guests who had arrived earlier. He needed time for himself—time to train, to grow stronger, to focus on the rigorous discipline he had set for himself. Babysitting a group of kids, no matter how prestigious their backgrounds, was not part of his plan.

’I should still go see him,’ Klaus decided, though he dreaded the encounter. ’Perhaps it’s even a stratagem to get some sort of reaction from me. Yeah, that’s probably it.’

Klaus knew Roman was a cunning old fox, a man who never did anything without a reason. The whole situation reeked of a plot designed to gauge Klaus’s reactions, to test his patience, or perhaps even to push him into some course of action. Klaus had long suspected that Roman, despite his detached and authoritative demeanor, was always probing, always looking for cracks in Klaus’s resolve.

’I should go now,’ Klaus thought, trying to dismiss the growing anxiety gnawing at him. ’But do I need to make some sort of appointment to see him?’

He quickly dismissed the idea, deciding instead to confront Roman unannounced. Klaus was not one to play into the hands of others, even if that other was his own grandfather. Rising from the sofa, Klaus straightened his posture and steeled himself for the conversation ahead.

As Klaus exited the annex mansion, he caught sight of Elisabeth in the garden, sipping tea with their guests. The scene was almost picturesque—Elisabeth’s delicate laughter mingling with the soft rustling of leaves, the warm sunlight casting a gentle glow on the meticulously trimmed hedges and flowerbeds. The girls seemed to be enjoying themselves, their earlier discomfort forgotten as they chatted animatedly with Elisabeth. Even Faris, with his arrogant demeanor, appeared slightly more relaxed. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Klaus sighed, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, and walked past them without a word. He had no interest in engaging with them at the moment. His focus was solely on Roman.

As Klaus made his way to the Lord’s palace, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle yet distinct shift in the way people treated him. Every servant, every guard, every noble he passed greeted him with an unusual level of politeness, some even bowing lower than usual. The guards stationed at the palace lord’s residence were particularly deferential, their eyes following him with a mixture of respect and curiosity.

’Don’t tell me it’s all because of those stupid rumors,’ Klaus thought, his irritation flaring up again. He had heard the whispers, the exaggerated tales of his accomplishments that had spread like wildfire. But this level of attention was unsettling, even for someone as composed as Klaus.

He approached the grand entrance of the Lord’s palace, where a butler awaited to announce his arrival. Klaus nodded curtly, and within minutes, the giant golden doors swung open with an imposing sound, revealing the extravagant decoration of the throne room. The room was an opulent display of power and wealth, with gilded walls, towering marble pillars, and a ceiling painted with intricate frescoes depicting the glorious history of the Lionhart family.

At the far end of the room, Roman sat on a golden throne shaped like a lion, the symbol of their house. The throne’s lion head, with its fierce, unyielding expression, mirrored Roman’s own imposing presence. Klaus straightened his back and walked forward, each step echoing through the vast chamber. When he was close enough, he bowed politely.

"I greet the Patriarch," Klaus said, his voice firm but respectful.

"Raise your head," Roman commanded, his voice resonating with authority. Klaus obeyed, lifting his gaze to meet Roman’s. Beside Roman stood Melo, the ever-loyal sentinel, his expression unreadable behind the mask he wore.

"And to what do I owe this sudden visit from my grandson?" Roman inquired, his tone calm, almost warm, which caught Klaus off guard. This was not the Roman he was accustomed to—the strict, authoritarian figure who had always viewed Klaus with a mixture of expectation and indifference.

’Why is he acting out of character?’ Klaus wondered, puzzled by Roman’s unexpected demeanor. The man Klaus knew was anything but warm. He was a man who had once used his overwhelming aura to crush Klaus’s spirit, to test his willpower, without a hint of remorse.

Klaus quickly pushed aside his confusion and cleared his throat. "I received some unexpected guests today," he began, his voice steady. "I’m here to inquire about them."

"Just that? How about your reward for ranking first?" Roman said, his tone casual, as if the matter were of no great importance.

"Well, that could have waited. I’m not in any hurry to receive a reward," Klaus replied calmly, though his eyes were fixed on Roman’s fingers, which were tapping the armrest of his throne rhythmically, as if lost in thought.

Roman then asked, "Are you not pleased with your potential fiancées?"

Klaus stiffened, interpreting Roman’s question as a veiled taunt. "Why should I be pleased? I didn’t ask for one," Klaus replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice but failing to completely mask it.

"You should know that you are still a prince of Rikxia," Roman said, his tone taking on a slightly sterner edge. "As such, this should be a normal matter, no? You taking a fiancée to reinforce our current alliances."

"Me? A prince?" Klaus echoed, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "My lord must be mistaken. I’m just someone with a lineage that people deemed unworthy even for being part of the collateral line."

"How dare you!" Roman’s voice dropped to a menacing low growl, and suddenly, the air around Klaus became oppressive. He felt an immense pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to his knees. The weight was overwhelming, almost suffocating.

Gritting his teeth, Klaus summoned the strength to activate the Ten Eyes mantra, his eyes flashing with a sharp, intense light.

SWOOSH

The pressure that had been crushing him started to diminish, easing until it finally dissipated entirely. Free from the invisible force, Klaus stood up, defiance burning in his eyes. He locked his gaze with Roman’s, who, instead of being angered by Klaus’s resistance, burst into a thunderous laugh.

"Incredible! My blood truly flows through your veins!" Roman exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the throne room. He then dissipated the last remnants of his aura and continued, "You are my grandson. My blood flows in yours, so if you are not from the direct line, then none of your cousins are either. You are my direct descendant. I may be at odds with your father, but that doesn’t change the fact that I sired him, and him you." Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

Roman stood from his immense throne and walked toward Klaus, who seemed frozen by Roman’s sudden words. The air in the room shifted, becoming heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

When Roman was finally just a few centimeters in front of Klaus, he asked the question that had been on his mind all along. "How is your body?"

Klaus remained silent, unsure of how to respond. His head throbbed with the stress of the day—first, the unexpected guests, and now his grandfather’s uncharacteristic concern. It was as if Roman had suddenly decided to play the role of the caring patriarch, but Klaus wasn’t buying it.

’Why is he suddenly acting as if he cares about me?’ Klaus thought, his anger simmering beneath the surface. ’This is the same man who disowned his own son, who has always been heartless enough to put the family’s interests above everything else.’

"My body is fine," Klaus replied coldly, his tone betraying the anger he felt, even though Roman was standing right in front of him.

"How can you say that when your condition seems to have worsened?" Roman continued, his voice softening, a tone that only served to infuriate Klaus further.

Roman’s concern might have been genuine, but Klaus couldn’t see it that way. To him, this was just another manipulation, another game.

"I think you must have misunderstood my condition," Klaus said after calming himself. He was done with Roman’s charade. He hated the very thought of Roman pretending to be worried about him. Deciding to end the conversation on his own terms, Klaus clarified, "As I said, I’m perfectly fine."

To emphasize his point, Klaus released an incredible amount of dark energy from his body. The sudden surge of violent energy took Roman by surprise, and even Melo, who had been silently observing, seemed dumbfounded behind his mask.

"Are you satisfied now?" Klaus asked, his tone icy, his gaze colder than it had ever been. The room seemed to freeze, the tension between grandfather and grandson thick enough to cut with a knife.