The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 337
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337: A Successor Forged in Crisis 337: A Successor Forged in Crisis Klaus remained perfectly still, watching his mother.
The silence that followed her revelation-that the ultimate dream of Reizhor Raikra, the Beast Emperor, was the conquest and unification of the entire Runiya Continent-was heavy, yet predictable.
He was not truly shocked.
What monarch, what true emperor, did not dream of conquest?
The ambition to transcend mere defense and to forge a singular, unyielding empire was the driving engine of history.
The Beast Emperor’s goal was not madness; it was the logical extreme of immense power.
“I see,” Klaus finally said, his voice flat, revealing nothing of the strategic planning already churning in his mind.
Elisabeth leaned forward, her golden eyes-the same striking eyes Reizhor Raikra possessed-filled with a desperate kind of certainty.
“Do not let this news concern you, Klaus.
My father will not take part in this coming war.
He will not join either side, not the Coalition, and certainly not the Rikxia Empire.” She offered him a thin, knowing smile.
“I know that look.
I can see the strategy already forming in your eyes, my son.
You want to unite the two most powerful nations to scare off the other five.
It is brilliant politics, but he will say no to an alliance.” “I see,” Klaus replied again, the simple statement serving as both acknowledgment and dismissal.
“But you will still try, won’t you?” she pressed gently, her gaze never leaving his face.
She knew him too well, seeing the dangerous determination beneath his calm exterior.
Klaus responded not with words, but with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
It was a reply that confirmed her suspicion, yet offered no argument.
The Beast Emperor’s ambition was not an obstacle; it was merely a high price tag.
Elisabeth sighed, the sound tinged with worry and a strange pride.
“You probably want the Raikra Empire and the Rikxia Empire to join forces.
You hope to use that combined might to convince the smaller nations that resistance is pointless, thus dissolving the Coalition before a drop of blood is spilled.” She paused, considering the complexity of his strategy.
“It is well-conceived, a plan worthy of the great generals of old.
But my father will never agree to it, even if I personally ask him.
The current situation-the continental war, the chaos, the mutual destruction-is the exact opportunity he has been waiting for his entire life.” Her eyes hardened with the cold logic of royal blood.
“No matter the outcome of the war, the six nations who are rivals to the Raikra Empire will be critically weakened.
They will bleed away their strength and supplies, leaving them frail.
They will be weakened enough for him to easily swallow all the nations when the fighting stops.
He sees the Rikxia Empire’s plight not as a threat to the continent, but as the perfect chance for conquest.” “Even if he does not agree to a direct alliance, there are still other ways to stop this war,” Klaus began, already calculating the diplomatic maneuvers and information warfare he would have to employ.
But his thoughts abruptly shifted, dragging him away from the grand chessboard of the continent and back to the urgent, unsettling worry that had been gnawing at him long before the Throne Room meeting.
There was something far more important than politics.
“Mother,” Klaus began, his voice softening, the political mask briefly slipping.
“Do you… do you have any recent news of my father?
Anything at all?” He fought to keep the sharp surge of anger and betrayal from his tone.
Elisabeth’s expression immediately became sorrowful.
“Yes, I received a letter not long ago.
He is investigating some ancient temples in the Northernmost regions.
He wrote that he believes he may finally find clues there-perhaps even a method-to repair his mana core.” Klaus felt a sourness rise in his throat, a bitter taste that had nothing to do with the tea.
The Northernmost regions.
Ludovic was wasting his time, chasing ghosts just to uphold a lie.
Klaus knew the truth, a truth that lodged like a knife beneath his ribs: his father’s mana core wasn’t broken.
It was dormant-achingly, stubbornly dormant-and yet the world insisted on calling him shattered.
What reason did he have to go to such extreme lengths?
The question burned through Klaus.
Why endure the contempt of his family, the shame, the exile, the endless search, merely to uphold the facade of a broken man?
Did he not care about the pain he caused you, Eleara, or me?
What was he truly hiding?
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s voice.
“There is something else you are curious about, isn’t there, Klaus?” Elisabeth asked softly, reading his hesitation.
“Something you never got the chance to ask directly, as it’s a sensitive subject for him.” Klaus merely nodded.
Elisabeth finished the thought for him: “You want to know exactly how he broke his mana core, don’t you?” Klaus simply nodded again.
“It happened about twenty years ago,” Elisabeth began, her gaze fixed on a distant memory.
“At that time, Ludovic was still a young, promising Swordmaster.
He was nineteen, perhaps twenty.
Your father was a true prodigy, a genius of the sword and the mind, so talented that all his brothers and cousins envied him.
Everyone-even your grandfather, the Ice Monarch-believed he was destined to be the next Patriarch of the Lionhart family.
It was because of this dazzling potential that my father, Reizhor Raikra, agreed to our engagement two years before it happened.” The contrast between the promising genius and the disgraced man was heartbreaking.
“During a routine mission with the unit your father led, they were investigating some very old ruins, far from the capital.
According to the few, disjointed reports that surfaced, a strange, purple-colored rift suddenly opened deep inside the ruins.
A powerful, unknown energy poured out.” Elisabeth’s voice trembled slightly as she recalled the darkest period of her young life.
“Your father was the only one to return alive.
He was barely clinging to life.
They said his mana core shattered, attempting to close that rift, to contain whatever it was that poured through.
He sacrificed everything to save his men from something truly monstrous.” Klaus listened, his mind already connecting the dots of his father’s past tragedy to his own present reality.
The ‘purple-colored rift’ and the unknown energy that destroyed his father’s core.
It sounded suspiciously similar to the chaos surrounding Northwatch. “What ruins was it?” Klaus asked, needing a name, a location, anything concrete to research.
“I believe they were called the Ruins of Gaia,” Elisabeth answered.
Gaia.
Klaus immediately reached out to Greed.
‘Is Gaia another name the Primordial goes by?’ The cold, superior voice of Greed answered immediately, cutting through the emotional tension.
{How should I know?
People revere him with countless different names.
He is the beginning, the end, and everything in between.
Why should I keep track of how tiny, insignificant ants choose to revere him?
Focus on what matters, Boy.} Klaus ignored the entity’s familiar arrogance and continued his conversation with his mother.
“Do you perhaps know who exactly sent them on that mission?
Which department or person signed the order to investigate the Ruins of Gaia?” Elisabeth shook her head slowly.
“No, I am not entirely sure of that detail.
The official records were sealed almost immediately, and the entire incident was buried.
You would have to ask him directly when he returns.” “I will,” Klaus promised.
He now had two crucial tasks: prevent the war and uncover the truth behind his father’s self-imposed exile and the mystery of the shattered mana core.
Just as he spoke, a flash of black movement caught his eye.
A large, sleek crow, an Imperial messenger bird, descended from the clear sky.
It landed with surprising elegance on the table directly in front of Klaus, dropping a tightly rolled scroll from its beak.
Klaus reached out, took the letter, and the crow gave a single, knowing caw before soaring back toward the main estate.
He unrolled the document and began to read, his eyes scanning the formal, authoritative script.
As he read, his brow furrowed, his expression shifting from calm to serious concentration.
“What is it, Klaus?” Elisabeth asked, a new tension entering her voice.
“It is the official mandate,” he explained, holding up the scroll.
“The task the Patriarch has entrusted to me as part of my test for the succession.” “Succession?” Elisabeth’s golden eyes widened in a choked expression of surprise, unable to reconcile her husband’s disgraced status with the Emperor’s decree.
“He allowed you to participate in the succession race?” Klaus nodded, handing her the scroll so she could read the details herself.
“He did.
He even allowed Aunt Yenova to participate.” Elisabeth’s eyes grew wide as she read the list of names and the shocking inclusion of a female heir.
She did not need to finish the whole document.
Her eyes closed, her mind working furiously, piecing together the true meaning of Roman Lionhart’s sudden, reckless actions-the shocking inclusiveness of the heir list, the brutal competition, the hurried timeline.
She opened her eyes, staring off into the distance, speaking the terrible truth more to herself than to her son.
“He probably does not have much time left to live…” Klaus’s eyes widened instantly.
His mother’s deduction was terrifying, yet perfectly logical.
It provided the final, missing piece to the Emperor’s desperate strategy.
Why announce a brutal, accelerated race for the throne at the exact moment a continental war threatens?
Because Roman Lionhart is not preparing his Empire for war.
He is preparing it for a transition.
He needed a proven successor, battle-tested and ready, before his physical transformation-or his impending death-finally took him.
The Continental War was now merely the crucible designed to find the only worthy heir.
The stakes had just been raised to an unimaginable height.
Klaus had to prevent the war, not just to save the continent, but to ensure that when the real enemies finally made their move, the Rikxia Empire was not plunged into chaos, but was ready to stand as a unified front under a new, powerful leader.
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