The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Chapter 366: Light in the Abyss

The war room beneath the Ice Palace was cold, but the tension in the room generated a heat that had nothing to do with temperature. It had been one hour since Klaus Lionhart walked out of the throne room, leaving behind a promise that felt more like a child's fantasy than a strategic guarantee. Now, Queen Ellah sat at the head of the obsidian table, her ruby eyes scanning the faces of the seven patriarchs representing the founding families of Iskandriel. Only the Stark family head was absent from the table, represented instead by Captain John Stark, who stood rigidly near the map display.

"Erion is still holding the line," John reported, his voice rough with exhaustion. He was Erion's cousin, and the strain on the family was evident in the dark circles under his eyes. "But his mana core is fluctuating. He is using a White Core technique to sustain the barrier, but even a White Core is not infinite. He is burning through his reserves at a rate we cannot sustain."

One of the patriarchs, a burly man with skin like cracked stone from the Targar Family, slammed his fist onto the table. "Then we send reinforcements! We cannot let Lord Erion fall!"

"We have tried!" John snapped, losing his composure for a fraction of a second. "Every physical attack bounces off them. Every spell we cast: fire, ice, wind... it passes through them like they are ghosts. They are not solid. They are not alive in the way we understand. Our soldiers are dying for nothing."

Queen Ellah raised a hand, silencing the room. "Panic will not mend the barrier. We need solutions."

"The boy," another patriarch spoke up, this one from the Lanisglace Family, his voice thin and skeptical. "Klaus Lionhart. He claimed he could handle the situation. Yet he is not here. It has been an hour. Where is he?"

"Probably ran," the Middas family Patriarch grunted. "Child bravado. He sees the scale of the threat and realizes he is out of his depth. He is a swordsman, not a savior."

"He is a Lionhart," Queen Ellah said softly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. "He does not run."

"Then where is he?" the Middas Patriarch pressed. "The barrier at Frostfang Peak is failing. We do not have time for missing princes."

As if summoned by the question, the heavy iron doors of the war room creaked open. A guard stepped in, saluting hastily. "Your Majesty. Klaus Lionhart requests entry."

"Ah! Let him in," Ellah said.

Klaus walked in without haste. He looked exactly as he had an hour ago, though there was a stillness about him now, a density to his presence that made the air in the room feel heavier. He wore simple black training clothes, no armor, no visible weapon. He stopped at the foot of the table, his crystalline blue eyes sweeping over the seven patriarchs.

'Interesting,' Klaus thought, his internal voice calm and analytical. 'Each of them radiates an aura comparable to Erion Stark. If Erion is a Sword King level1, then all seven patriarchs are at least at that level. No wonder Iskandriel has remained independent for centuries. This is not just a city; it is a fortress of monsters.'

He looked at the map spread across the table. He did not need it. His enhanced perception had already mapped the enemy positions, the flow of their energy, and the structural weaknesses in the barrier Erion was holding. But he said nothing of this.

"Where were you?" Queen Ellah asked, her voice steady. "The council was concerned."

"I needed to check something," Klaus replied simply. He offered no further explanation. He did not owe them a detailed report of his reconnaissance using the Ten Eyes Mantra.

"Check something?" the Middas Patriarch scoffed. "While our defenses crumble? Boy, do you understand the gravity of..."

"Save your breath," Klaus interrupted, his voice cutting through the patriarch's bluster. He stepped forward, placing both hands on the table. He looked at John Stark. "The creatures pouring from the cracks in the Frostfang Peak. They are called Hollows."

John's eyes widened slightly. 'How does he know they are coming from cracks? Our scouts haven't even reported that detail yet.'

"They are not immune to damage," Klaus continued, ignoring the shock in the room. "They are immune to physical force and standard elemental mana. Fire, ice, lightning... it all passes through their conceptual form. They are vulnerable to only one thing."

He paused, letting the tension build.

"Light element attacks."

"FUCK!" the Targar Patriarch roared, slamming both hands on the table this time. The obsidian surface cracked under the force. "Light element? Do you have any idea how rare that affinity is? We are talking about one in ten thousand mages and warriors."

"We have our head mages," the Lanisglace Patriarch said quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. "All of them can utilize light magic to some degree. We have thirty Arkmages: Fifth Circle mages, ready to deploy."

"Thirty," Klaus repeated. He looked at the map again, visualizing the swarm. "And how many Hollows are there?"

"At the very least.... Ten thousand," John admitted grimly. "And more are coming through every minute."

"Thirty mages against ten thousand entities that require precise light mana to dispel," Klaus said. "They will run out of mana long before you thin the herd. By the time they recharge, the city will be overrun."

"Then what do you suggest?" the Queen asked, leaning forward. "Do you have an army hidden in your pocket, Klaus?"

"No," Klaus said. He straightened up, looking at each patriarch in turn. "I will take care of it alone."

The silence that followed was absolute. Then, laughter. Bitter, disbelieving laughter from the Middas Patriarch.

"Don't be ridiculous!" he shouted. "Even if you have a light affinity, how can you face ten thousand of those creatures alone? You are a swordsman! You cannot cut what is not solid!"

"He is not just a swordsman," Queen Ellah said. Her voice was quiet, but it commanded the room instantly. The laughter died. She looked at Klaus, her expression unreadable. "He is also a vessel of one of the seven forbidden beings."

The air in the room froze. The patriarchs leaned back, eyes widening in shock and fear.

"Like my..." the Targar  Patriarch started, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his weapon, but he stopped himself, swallowing the rest of the sentence. The implication hung heavy in the air. They knew what the Arkdieus were. They knew what kind of destruction they could wrought.

Klaus did not deny it. He did not confirm it. He simply stood there, the weight of the entity within him a silent promise of power.

One of the patriarchs, a woman from the Petrova Family, narrowed her eyes. "Power always comes with a price. What do you want in exchange? I'm sure you don't offer to help us for free. Men like you never do."

Klaus turned his gaze toward Queen Ellah. There was an understanding between them, a silent agreement forged in the throne room earlier. He did not need to bargain with the patriarchs. He had already struck his deal with the crown.

"The Queen knows what I want," Klaus said. His voice was final. "Now, if you will excuse me."

He turned toward the door. The patriarchs shifted, some rising as if to stop him, but a look from Queen Ellah kept them seated.

"Where are you going?" the Middas Patriarch demanded, unable to let the perceived arrogance slide. "We are in the middle of a war council!"

Klaus paused at the door. He did not look back. He could feel the barrier at Frostfang Peak trembling, Erion's mana nearing its limit. He could feel the Hollows pressing against the light, hungry for the life within the city. He had the power to stop them. He had an affinity for all elements and an almost bottomless reserve of mana, since he could use the mana in the air directly, thanks to his magic circles inside his five open eyes of the ten eyes mantra.

"Saving your city," Klaus said.

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the corridor, leaving the room of powerful patriarchs sitting in stunned silence. He walked with purpose, his footsteps echoing on the ice floor. He did not need an army. He did not need thirty Arkmages. He needed only himself and the light element attribute that he could directly extract from the air.

As he exited the palace into the morning air, the sky above Frostfang Peak was darkening. The barrier was failing. Klaus raised his hand, and a faint, golden luminescence began to gather around his fingertips, brighter than any mana spell, hotter than any fire.

He launched himself into the air, a streak of white and gold against the gray morning. The Hollows were waiting. And so was the light.

******(A/N)**********

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