The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Panic consumed the banquet hall as nobles and dignitaries abandoned all pretense of diplomatic composure. The sight of four prominent figures reduced to headless corpses in mere seconds shattered their psychological barriers entirely, reducing continental powers to terrified animals seeking escape.

Several minor nobles broke into desperate sprint toward the chamber's exits, their survival instincts overriding centuries of civilized conditioning. Lord Pemberton, heir to a significant trade dynasty, led the frantic exodus with speed born of pure terror.

The demons observed this flight with patient amusement, their aristocratic features showing mild interest rather than concern. They moved with casual grace, appearing before fleeing nobles with speed that rendered resistance meaningless.

Lord Pemberton's desperate run ended abruptly as elegant fingers touched his spine. His body simply ceased to function, collapsing in heap of lifeless flesh while his companions screamed in renewed horror. The demon responsible adjusted its sleeve with fastidious care, as though concerned with maintaining proper appearance.

Lady Cornelia, veteran of countless diplomatic functions, found her experience worthless against opponent whose capabilities transcended conventional understanding. The demon that materialized beside her delivered touch so gentle it might have been lover's caress, yet her heart stopped instantly, expression freezing in mask of surprise.

Within seconds, every attempt at escape had been terminated with elegant efficiency. The demons returned to their positions throughout the chamber, having demonstrated that flight represented futile gesture rather than viable option.

One of the creatures turned its attention toward Klaus, moving with predatory interest that suggested recognition of significant threat. Its approach carried measured confidence, aristocratic bearing unmarred by any concern regarding potential resistance.

The demon's hand swept toward Klaus's face with casual precision, expecting to replicate the devastating effectiveness demonstrated on previous targets. Yet as its palm approached its intended victim, something unprecedented occurred.

Resistance manifested around Klaus—invisible barrier that caught the demon's strike and held it motionless. The creature's expression showed first surprise, then calculating interest as it pressed against the unexpected defense.

The barrier held for heartbeat, perhaps two, before shattering like crystalline structure under overwhelming pressure. Klaus's defensive capability, while impressive, proved insufficient against supernatural force refined through dimensional transcendence.

Yet before the demon's hand could complete its lethal trajectory, explosive movement erupted from across the chamber. The Beast Emperor appeared between them with speed that defied visual tracking, his massive fist intercepting the demon's strike with impact that sent shock waves through marble floor.

The demon staggered backward several steps, its aristocratic composure finally showing cracks as it assessed this unexpected intervention. More striking was the Beast Emperor's transformation—his tribal markings no longer merely pulsed beneath his skin but radiated terrifying golden energy that made his entire form appear carved from living lightning.

The golden aura surrounding him pulsed with intensity that hurt to observe directly, each pulse sending ripples through the air that distorted vision around his massive frame. His presence had elevated from merely impressive to genuinely transcendent, revealing capabilities that exceeded previous display.

The demon recovered its balance with fluid grace, regarding the Beast Emperor with newfound respect. "Interesting," it murmured, its cultured voice carrying appreciation rather than concern. "A mortal who approaches our level."

Their subsequent combat unfolded with speed that challenged even enhanced perception. Both combatants moved as blur of motion, their collision creating destruction that served as only visible evidence of their engagement. Marble pillars cracked from atmospheric pressure of their strikes, crystalline chandeliers shattered from harmonic vibrations, yet the fighters themselves remained nearly invisible due to velocity that exceeded normal tracking capability.

Alex watched this impossible battle with growing comprehension that his own enhanced abilities, impressive though they were, represented merely preliminary step toward capabilities that transcended normal classification entirely.

Across the chamber, Roman and Melo had recovered their weapons, both blades now wreathed in golden aura that testified to capabilities they had previously concealed. The energy surrounding their weapons pulsed with mid-tier intensity that marked them as possessing Golden mana cores—evidence of their advancement to the Transcendence stage, also known as Sword King level.

The mana core power spectrum formed rigid hierarchy throughout the continent. Colors progressed from weakest to strongest: Red, Yellow, Green, Cyan, Blue, Purple, Golden, Gray, White. Each color further divided into Low, Mid, and High tiers, creating twenty-seven distinct levels of capability. The highest recorded power in Runiya belonged to the Beast Emperor himself, whose High-tier Golden core placed him at the absolute pinnacle of continental strength.

Roman and Melo's Mid-tier Golden cores marked them as beings whose individual capability exceeded small armies, whose mastery of mana manipulation approached theoretical limits of what mortal consciousness could achieve. Yet as they engaged one of the demons in coordinated assault, their overwhelming disadvantage became immediately apparent.

Their golden-wreathed blades traced patterns through air with precision that spoke of decades perfecting their craft, yet the demon deflected their combined assault with casual ease. Its movements suggested boredom rather than effort, aristocratic features showing mild interest in their technique while expressing no concern regarding potential threat.

Roman's strikes carried force that could shatter castle walls, yet the demon redirected each attack with fingertip touches that demonstrated supernatural superiority. Melo's coordination with his master created tactical combinations that should have overwhelmed any single opponent, yet their enemy treated the engagement as educational demonstration rather than serious combat.

Meanwhile, the Beast Emperor's individual battle had reached stalemate. His golden aura flared with increasing intensity as he pressed his assault, yet the demon matched his efforts with supernatural capability that suggested vast reserves still untapped. The creature was clearly beyond his current level, though not by margin that rendered combat hopeless.

The sound of phoenix cry echoed from outside the chamber, carrying harmonics that seemed to penetrate stone and steel with equal ease. Kazimir's Meister emblem blazed with brilliant golden light as transformation began overtaking his form.

His hair ignited, becoming literal flames that danced around his head without consuming flesh. Tattoos began spreading outward from the phoenix emblem on his arm, intricate patterns of fire and light that covered his exposed skin with designs that pulsed in synchronization with his heartbeat.

With speed that rivaled his father's enhanced state, Kazimir joined the battle. His transformed presence added new dimension to combat, phoenix-enhanced capabilities complementing the Beast Emperor's raw power with coordinated assault that finally began pressuring their demonic opponent.

The other two demons continued their elegant massacre throughout the chamber, moving among paralyzed dignitaries with leisurely pace that emphasized their absolute control over the situation. Each touch claimed another life, each gesture reduced another continental power to cooling corpse.

Their methodical approach suggested artistic appreciation for violence rather than mere functional elimination. They savored each kill, drawing out the process to maximize terror among surviving witnesses while demonstrating casual superiority over beings who had moments before considered themselves significant players in continental politics.

Klaus observed this systematic destruction with expression that combined rage and profound sorrow. His crystalline eyes tracked each death while memories continued flooding through his consciousness—fragments of recognition that painted increasingly clear picture of who Sabrina had been, who she had become, and what her transformation represented.

He turned toward Sabrina, who hovered above the carnage with expression of pure satisfaction, crimson eyes gleaming as she watched her demons' artistic work. His voice, when it came, carried harmonics that seemed to resonate with fundamental forces of reality itself.

"No matter what you once meant to me," he stated with cold finality that penetrated even the chaos surrounding them, "you have to die now."

The declaration carried weight that transcended mere threat—it was pronouncement of inevitable conclusion, recognition that whatever history existed between them had been irretrievably corrupted by her current actions. Klaus's crystalline eyes reflected depths of accumulated experience, lifetimes of memory that informed his judgment with authority that surpassed normal human comprehension.

Sabrina's response was delighted laughter that carried musical quality despite its malevolent undertones, her crimson gaze meeting his with anticipation that suggested she had been hoping for exactly this reaction.