I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 322: A Perfect Pillow [Golden Ticket Bonus]

Lightning erupted from inside Jack’s body.

It felt like someone poured molten hot lava down his throat. The pain was more intense than anything he had ever felt.

Jack’s legs gave out immediately. He collapsed, his knees hitting the marble with bone-jarring force that barely registered against the overwhelming sensation of his entire body being rewritten at the cellular level.

’Holy shit,’ his mind screamed, coherent thought fragmenting under the assault. ’This is worse than channeling Draven’s power. This is worse than....’

Another wave hit, and Jack’s back arched involuntarily. His hands clawed at the marble floor, nails scraping stone hard enough to leave marks. Every muscle in his body seized simultaneously, locked in spasm as red lightning erupted from him.

Visible even through his closed eyelids.

His mouth opened in a silent scream. No sound emerged. His vocal cords had locked along with everything else, paralyzed by power that was simultaneously destroying and rebuilding him.

’Can’t pass out,’ Jack thought desperately, clinging to consciousness through sheer stubborn refusal. ’If I pass out, what if it kills me? No, I refuse to let that happen. Pain is for the weak!’

The lightning intensified. Red arcs danced between his fingers, jumped from hand to hand, and traced patterns across his torso that looked like circuit boards being etched into flesh.

Each arc left trails of sensation that transcended pain, too intense to be merely physical, touching something deeper inside of his soul.

Time stopped meaning anything. Seconds stretched into eternities. Jack existed in a single eternal moment of transformation that his mind couldn’t process or escape.

His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he thought it might burst. His pulse thundered in his ears like drums announcing his execution. Sweat poured from his skin only to evaporate instantly from the heat radiating off him in waves.

’I will suffer worse. This is just a slap on the wrist.’

Jack gritted his teeth as he grimaced.

Nothing in Tartarus Spire had felt like this. No amount of training could prepare you for getting ripped apart from the inside out.

If a Mythical class did this to you. What would white lightning do to his body?

The red lightning found his spine. Jack’s body convulsed, lifting off the ground for a moment before slamming back down.

His head cracked against marble hard enough that blood should have pooled beneath him, but the lightning cauterized everything instantly. Burned and healed. Destroyed and rebuilt over and over in cycles that happened too fast to track.

The lightning reached his brain.

Jack’s vision went white. Pure, absolute white that erased everything else from existence. He could feel his neurons firing in patterns that shouldn’t be possible, synapses rewriting themselves, pathways forming that connected him to electrical currents in ways that transcended mere magical affinity.

He was becoming something that understood lightning not as a tool to wield, but as an aspect of reality he could manipulate as easily as breathing.

And understanding that came with a price.

His heart stopped.

Jack’s heart ceased beating, locked in electrical paralysis as the transformation reached his cardiovascular system.

For one eternal second, blood stopped flowing. Oxygen stopped reaching his brain. Death stood at his shoulder, waiting to see if he’d survive or succumb.

Then red lightning jolted through his chest cavity, and his heart restarted with a thump that felt like being punched from the inside. The rhythm was different now, faster, stronger, each beat pushing blood enhanced by electrical current through veins that had been reinforced to handle voltages that would kill normal humans instantly.

’Almost. This will end soon enough. I died once already, what’s a few more times??’

The final wave hit with force that made everything that came before feel like warm-up exercises.

Every cell in his body ignited simultaneously. Jack’s back arched so far he heard vertebrae pop. His fingers dug into marble hard enough to crack stone. His teeth ground together with pressure that should have shattered enamel.

And through it all, red lightning danced across his skin in patterns so complex they looked like ancient runes being written in fire and electricity.

Then, after what felt like lifetimes compressed into minutes, the pain stopped.

Switched off like someone had flipped a circuit breaker and decided he’d suffered enough.

Jack lay on the cold marble floor, chest heaving, every breath feeling like he was learning to breathe for the first time.

Sweat soaked his clothes and pooled beneath him. His muscles trembled with exhaustion that went beyond physical into something approaching spiritual.

But he was alive. And he could feel it, the power thrumming through him like a second heartbeat. Red lightning, waiting just beneath his skin, ready to be called forth with a thought.

’Show me my information system.”

[Strength: 200 (+100)]

[Stamina: 200 (+45)]

[Agility: 200 (+45)]

[Vitality: 200 (+25)]

[Endurance: 200 (+30)]

[Magic: 250 (+90)]

[Mana: 400]

[HP: 11,250]

[Skill Points: 1,650]

[Stat Points: 11]

[Reputation Points: 616,121]

[Death Tokens: 37,052,250]

[Magic Talent Rank: S]

[Martial Talent Rank: S]

[Affinity: Lightning]

[Demonic Essence: 100]

[Blessings: Draven’s Pendant (level 2), Soul Warden (Level 1)]

A notification appeared in his vision, the golden text seeming almost apologetic after what he’d just endured:

[Class Integration Complete]

[Prince of Thunder - MYTHICAL CLASS UNLOCKED]

[Congratulations. You have acquired a Mythical-tier class]

”Young Master!”

The voice cut through Jack’s exhausted haze. Footsteps approached rapidly.

Seraphina appeared at the shrine’s entrance, her gray dress slightly disheveled, a strand of hair loose from her usually perfect ribbon.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.

Jack sprawled on marble, sweat-soaked, steam rising from his body, and the faint smell of charred flesh.

”My lord, are you alright?” She rushed forward, kneeling beside him with grace that seemed instinctive despite her obvious concern.

Her hands hovered over him, uncertain whether to touch or give space.

Jack forced himself to sit up slightly, his arms shaking with the effort. ”I’m fine. Just... received a divine message. It took a lot out of me.”

Seraphina’s expression shifted from concern to something softer. Without asking permission, she shifted position, sitting properly beside him and gently guiding his head to rest on her lap.

”Seraphina, you don’t have to...” Jack started to protest.

”Rest, Young Master,” she interrupted quietly, her fingers carefully brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. ”You’ve pushed yourself too hard. Let me take care of you.”

Jack relaxed into the unexpected comfort, too exhausted to argue. The coolness of her touch against his overheated skin felt like salvation.

”Thank you,” he said after a moment, his voice carrying genuine gratitude. ”For always taking care of me. For being so kind.”

”It’s just my duty as your maid,” Seraphina replied, her tone professional despite the intimacy of the position.

’Just my duty,’ she thought, her fingers continuing their gentle brush through his hair. ’That’s all this is. I’m simply being the perfect maid. Attending to my lord’s needs. Nothing more.’

But even as the thoughts formed, she couldn’t quite convince herself they were entirely true.

The way her heart had seized when she’d heard sounds of distress from the shrine.

The relief that flooded through her seeing him alive, even if exhausted. The natural way her hands moved to comfort him without conscious thought.

’Perfect maids don’t feel this way,’ a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.

’Perfect maids maintain distance. Professional boundaries. They don’t...’

She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the steady rise and fall of Jack’s breathing as he recovered.

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. Jack’s breathing gradually steadied, his body’s trembling subsiding as whatever transformation he’d undergone settled.

His head spun, but he pushed through it, determined to see what he’d just paid for in blood and agony.

’Show me,’ he thought, his mental voice hoarse even inside his own head. ’Show me what I just earned.’

The class description materialized before him, and Jack’s eyes widened.

Jack stared at the screen, his exhausted brain trying to process what he was seeing.

’What the hell?’ he thought.