I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 394: Ren Ryzard has returned

”These are the young master’s guests,” Loryn replied smoothly, his raspy voice carrying formal courtesy. ”Lord Rhys of Caeloria and Sylph, a mythical spirit. They’re here for training themselves, learning about the domain before we begin dungeon expeditions.”

Pho’s gaze shifted to Rhys, studying him with the intensity of someone evaluating potential prey. ”An elf prince. How quaint.”

The ice spike retracted back into the ground as smoothly as it had emerged, leaving bare earth that showed no sign of disturbance.

Rhys found his voice, though it came out shakier than he wanted. ”Why... why are you training so hard with such a heavy weapon?”

The question seemed to catch Pho’s attention. The Deathfrost Demon tilted his head fractionally, blank eyes studying Rhys as if reassessing his initial judgment.

”Because,” Pho said slowly, his tone carrying the patience of someone explaining obvious truths to children, ”there are monsters in this tower that render magic useless. Creatures where your martial prowess means nothing. Against such beings, you need both perfect technique with weapons that can actually harm them and the physical strength to wield those weapons long enough to win.”

He gestured at the ice axe with one pale hand. ”This weapon weighs approximately four hundred pounds. Most beings couldn’t lift it, let alone swing it effectively in combat. But when you face something that negates your magic, that laughs at your spells, this axe becomes the difference between survival and death.”

Loryn stepped forward slightly, his purple eyes gleaming. ”Pho is a Disaster-class demon.”

Sylph’s tiny form went rigid.

Pho returned to his ice axe, lifting it again like it was a piece of paper. ”If you’re here for training, stay out of my way.”

The Deathfrost Demon resumed his practice swings, clearly dismissing them as no longer relevant to his concerns.

Then something changed.

The air itself seemed to shift, pressure building like the moment before a storm.

The glowing grass stopped pulsing for just a heartbeat. Every demon within sight froze, their attention snapping toward something in the distance.

Pho’s blank white eyes opened wider than Rhys had seen them, the Deathfrost Demon’s entire posture shifting from relaxed training to combat readiness in an instant.

”No,” Loryn said sharply, his raspy voice carrying warning. ”Pho, don’t...”

But it was too late.

Pho moved with speed that defied his size, closing the distance to Rhys in two steps. His pale hand grabbed the elf prince’s arm with strength that made Rhys gasp, and then they were moving.

Ice erupted from the ground beneath them, a massive pillar that shot skyward like a crystalline geyser. The structure was easily fifty feet tall and growing, its surface perfectly smooth, angled at a forty-five-degree angle toward the distant castle.

Pho launched them off the pillar’s peak.

Rhys screamed.

The ground dropped away with terrifying speed as they arced through the air, Pho’s grip on his arm the only thing preventing him from falling to his death.

Wind tore at his clothes and hair, the glowing landscape blurring beneath them as they flew in a trajectory that carried them hundreds of feet above Floor 25.

”WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Rhys shrieked, his voice cracking with pure terror. Heights had never been his favorite thing, and this transcended fear into something approaching existential horror.

”Be quiet,” Pho said calmly, his blank white eyes scanning the terrain below with predatory focus. ”Someone strong has entered this floor. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”

Rhys forced himself to look down, despite every instinct screaming at him not to. From this height, he could see the entire landscape spread out like a painting. The glowing hills, the six massive sanctuaries, the spirits drifting through the sky, and in the distance...

Two figures approaching the castle’s main entrance.

The man walked with purpose. He wore purple armor with heavy plates that covered his torso and limbs, allowing for unrestricted movement.

Long dark hair fell past his shoulders, and even from this distance, there was something about his presence that made the air feel thicker.

A sword rested on his back, its hilt visible over one shoulder.

Beside him slithered a serpentine woman, her lower body a scaled tail that moved side to side.

Animals and spirits alike began backing away as the pair approached. The glowing grass seemed to dim slightly in their path.

Spirits that had been drifting aimlessly through the air suddenly found urgent business elsewhere, their white and gold forms fleeing toward the distant horizons.

Ren stopped walking. His hand moved to the sword on his back, fingers curling around the hilt.

He didn’t draw it. He just caressed the hilt.

And every creature within a hundred yards began running.

Demons scattered like leaves before a hurricane. Spirits vanished into thin air. Even the grass seemed to lean away from his presence, bioluminescence flickering as if trying to hide.

Pho and Rhys were still descending, their arc carrying them toward the castle entrance. Rhys could feel strong mana radiating from the armored man now, a pressure that made his skin crawl and his heart hammer against his ribs.

”Who is he?” Rhys managed to gasp out.

”Trouble,” Pho replied.

The Deathfrost Demon adjusted their trajectory easily, ice forming beneath his feet as they fell, crystalline platforms that appeared and dissolved in sequence, redirecting their momentum without completely stopping it.

They were perhaps two hundred feet up when Pho made his move.

Ice coalesced around the Deathfrost Demon’s free hand, forming a massive spear easily twenty feet long and thick as a man’s torso.

Frost radiated from its surface, making the air shimmer with cold so intense it hurt to breathe.

Then Pho hurled himself downward, carrying Rhys with him, the ice spear aimed directly at Ren’s skull.

They fell like a meteor, speed building, the weapon’s tip gleaming.

Ren shifted his weight, one arm coming up in a casual blocking motion.

The ice spear struck his forearm with force that should have shattered bone.

Instead, it shattered.

The massive weapon exploded into thousands of crystalline fragments, ice shards scattering across the glowing grass like frozen rain. The impact’s force pushed Ren back perhaps two steps, his boots leaving gouges in the earth.

Then he stopped, completely unbothered, his star-bright eyes fixed on Pho with mild interest.

”You never change,” Ren said, his voice carrying the depth of distant thunder.

Pho landed twenty feet away, releasing Rhys, who stumbled and fell, his legs refusing to support him after the terrifying flight.

The Deathfrost Demon’s blank white eyes studied Ren with calculating intensity, already planning his next move.

”You’re not supposed to be here,” Pho stated flatly.

Ren’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile. ”And yet here I am.”

Rhys pushed himself to his hands and knees, gasping for breath, his heart still hammering.

He could feel the mana radiating from Ren now. It was thick and oppressive. This wasn’t just strength.

Pho raised one pale hand, and ice responded instantly.

A barrage of crystalline spears erupted from the ground around Ren, dozens of them, each one aimed at vital points, converging from multiple angles to create an inescapable cage of frozen death.

The Deathfrost Demon’s tactical mind had calculated trajectories, timing, and force. Everything necessary to ensure no escape route existed.

The spears closed in.

And disintegrated.

They ceased to exist as they approached Ren’s body, dissolving into mist before they could make contact.

The air around him shimmered slightly, like heat rising from summer pavement, and the ice attacks vanished as if they’d never been real.