The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Darkness had been Alexandra's only companion for what felt like an eternity. Her world had contracted to the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other across the endless plain of ash, Klaus's unconscious form cradled in her arms.

The horizon never seemed to change—just the same bleak expanse stretching in every direction, unmarked save for the trail of footprints she left behind. Her throat had gone raw from thirst, her muscles trembling with exhaustion, yet she pushed onward. She had no destination, no plan beyond a simple, primal directive: keep moving, keep Klaus alive.

His breathing remained shallow, pulse weak but present. The silver hair that had briefly turned midnight black during Gluttony's possession had reverted, though now streaked with ash that wouldn't fully brush away. The obsidian rune on his palm had faded to a barely visible outline, like a scar that refused to disappear completely.

"Just hold on," she whispered hoarsely, though she'd long since stopped expecting a response. "Someone will find us. They have to."

The words rang hollow even to her own ears. Who would search for them in this featureless wasteland? Who would even know where to begin? In her darkest moments, Alexandra wondered if anything remained beyond this ashen plain—if Gluttony's devastating power had consumed more than just Northwatch.

It was during one such moment of despair, as she paused to rest her trembling legs, that she heard it—a sound so faint she initially dismissed it as imagination. A distant, rhythmic beating that gradually grew more distinct.

Wing beats. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, approaching from beyond the haze-shrouded sky.

Alexandra gently lowered Klaus to the ground and rose on unsteady feet, squinting upward. The sound grew louder, more insistent, until finally dark shapes emerged through the haze—griffons, their massive wings cutting through the ash-laden air in perfect formation. The emblem of White Lion was clearly visible on their riders' uniforms.

Relief nearly brought her to her knees.

"Here!" she tried to shout, though her parched throat produced little more than a rasp. Summoning her remaining strength, she channeled what little remained of her cyan aura into her rapier, creating a flickering beacon of light—feeble, but visible against the monotonous gray.

The lead griffon banked sharply, its rider gesturing to the others. Within moments, the formation changed direction, heading straight for her position. Alexandra fell back to her knees beside Klaus, one hand clutching her glowing blade, the other resting protectively on his chest where she could feel the reassuring, if faint, beat of his heart.

"We're going home," she whispered to him as the griffons descended in a storm of wing beats and swirling ash.

* * *

Captain Kalix Williams had commanded White Lion for nearly two decades. In that time, he'd witnessed horrors that had broken lesser men—rifts that spewed nightmares into reality, mage battles that warped the very fabric of existence, massacres that painted entire villages red. None of it had prepared him for the absolute devastation that greeted him upon arriving at what had once been Northwatch.

Nothing remained. No buildings, no walls, no people—just a perfect circle of ash stretching for miles in every direction, as if someone had taken an enormous blade and simply excised the city from existence. The Eternal Rift, a fixture of the northern territory for over a century, had vanished completely. In its place was... nothing. Not even the distortion in reality that typically lingered after a rift collapse.

Two days earlier, they had received the emergency signal—a burst of energy carrying a desperate warning: Northwatch compromised. Ancient technology activated. Eternal Rift weaponized. Send reinforcements immediately. Kalix had mobilized every available squad, nearly eight hundred White Lion fighters on griffonback, expecting to find a city under siege.

Instead, they found annihilation so complete it defied comprehension.

For thirty-six hours, they had searched the vast ash plain, griffons flying in grid patterns while mages scanned for any trace of survivors. Nothing. Not even bodies remained—just ash, uniform and unremarkable, stretching to the horizon in every direction.

Until Alexandra's feeble signal caught the eye of a scout.

Kalix's griffon landed with practiced precision, talons sinking into the soft ash. He dismounted before the beast had fully settled, striding toward the two figures—one kneeling, one prone—that represented the first sign of life they'd found in this desolate wasteland.

"Lady Alexandra," he called, his voice gruff with emotion he rarely displayed. The formality was deliberate—acknowledging her status as the daughter of Saint Raphael Lionhart and granddaughter to the Empire's patriarch. "Status report."

She looked up at him with eyes reddened by ash and exhaustion, her usually immaculate uniform torn and stained, hair matted with gray residue. For a moment, she seemed unable to form words, as if the enormity of what she'd experienced defied explanation.

"Captain," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Team 55 is... I'm the only one left. And Klaus..." She glanced down at the unconscious figure beside her. "He's alive, but unresponsive."

Kalix signaled for the medics, who rushed forward with water and emergency supplies. As they attended to Alexandra and carefully examined Klaus, the captain crouched beside them, his weathered face grave.

"Lady Alexandra, I need to know what happened here. The Eternal Rift is gone. The entire city is gone. We've been searching for survivors for nearly two days."

Alexandra's head snapped up, confusion evident in her bloodshot eyes. "Two days? But we just... the darkness only receded hours ago."

A medic gently tilted a water flask to her lips, urging her to drink slowly. After several careful sips, she continued, words coming more easily.

"Northwatch was compromised, Captain. The Duke, the residents—they weren't human anymore. They'd been replaced by artificial beings, homunculi. The Duke was using the barrier around the Eternal Rift for something called the Convergence. Trying to open a gateway to... something else."

Kalix's expression darkened. "And your team?"

Alexandra's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "We lost Leone first, then Finn and Darius at the barrier control station. Juron stayed behind to hold off the homunculi so we could reach the controls. The others... earlier in the tunnels..." Her voice faltered. "We tried to stop the Convergence, but it was too late. And then—"

She glanced at Klaus's unconscious form, hesitation evident in her expression.

"And then?" Kalix prompted.

"Then Klaus... changed." Alexandra chose her words carefully, still processing what she had witnessed. "He appeared at the barrier control station, but it wasn't really him. Something else was using his body. It called itself Gluttony."

Kalix went very still, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the faded rune visible on Klaus's palm. "Go on."

"It confronted the Duke, consumed him somehow. Then it did something to the Eternal Rift—redirected it, I think. The last thing I remember is darkness consuming everything, and then... I was standing miles from here, with Klaus unconscious beside me."

A medic approached Kalix, speaking in urgent, hushed tones. "Sir, we need to evacuate them immediately. Lady Alexandra is suffering from severe dehydration and exhaustion, but she'll recover. The young Lionhart, however..." The medic shook his head. "His condition is beyond our capabilities. His core is... fragmented. His mind shows no response to stimuli. It's as if his consciousness has been completely severed from his body."

Kalix nodded grimly. "Prepare them both for immediate transport. Contact Saint Raphael—his nephew and daughter require his attention."

As the medics carefully lifted Klaus onto a stretcher, Alexandra struggled to her feet, refusing assistance. "Captain, I can't leave him. I promised—"

"You'll both return to headquarters together," Kalix assured her, his tone respectful yet firm. "You've done your duty, Lady Alexandra. Few could have endured what you have."

Alexandra watched as they secured Klaus to a griffon's harness, her expression haunted. "Captain, what Klaus became... what he did..."

"Will be discussed later, in secure quarters," Kalix finished firmly. "For now, our priority is getting you both back safely."

As they prepared for departure, Kalix gazed out across the perfect circle of ash that had once been Northwatch. The implications of Alexandra's fragmented report weighed heavily on him. The Eternal Rift—a fixture of the northern territories for over a century, a wound in reality that had defied every attempt to seal it—gone completely. And a young Swordmaster somehow at the center of it all, bearing a mark that shouldn't exist and possessed by an entity Kalix had only heard whispered about in ancient texts.

Something had fundamentally changed in the world. The ripples of this event would spread far beyond the ash plain, touching every corner of the Runiya continent. And Kalix knew, with the certainty of a soldier who had survived countless battles, that this was merely the beginning.

As the griffons took to the sky, bearing their precious cargo back toward the White Lion fortress, Alexandra gazed down at the unbroken expanse of ash, barely visible now through the haze. She thought of her fallen comrades, of Leone's final sacrifice, of Juron's brave last stand. Of Klaus, her cousin, who had somehow saved them all at what might prove to be the cost of his own existence.

She thought of her father, whose healing powers were renowned throughout the continent. If anyone could bring Klaus back from whatever abyss had claimed his consciousness, it would be Raphael Lionhart. That thought alone gave her strength as they soared through the ashen sky, leaving behind the perfect circle of devastation that had once been Northwatch.

Only then, cradled in the safety of the griffon's harness with the promise of home ahead, did Alexandra finally allow herself to weep.