I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 395: You don’t understand

Rhys stared, his winter-ice eyes wide with incomprehension. ”How... how did he do that?”

Pho’s expression remained neutral, but something shifted in his posture. Recognition of a fundamental problem, the kind that couldn’t be solved normally.

”He’s immune to magic,” the Deathfrost Demon said quietly, his voice carrying grudging respect. ”He’s from Erebon like you. A former hero of the Prosperity Kingdoms.”

”Magic doesn’t work?” Rhys repeated, his voice cracking slightly. His entire worldview had been built around the understanding that magic was the ultimate power, that beings with strong mana could overcome any obstacle.

The idea of someone simply negating that advantage...

”Correct,” a small voice said from nearby.

Rhys turned to see Sylph floating there, her tiny form rigid with tension. Her black-and-green eyes were fixed on Ren with an expression that transcended fear into something approaching dread.

”That’s Ren Ryzard,” Sylph whispered. ”The Forgotten Hero.”

Ren’s star-bright eyes snapped toward the spirit instantly, his entire demeanor shifting from mild interest to focused intensity that made the air feel suddenly thicker.

Recognition flashed across his features, followed by something darker. Something that had been buried for centuries and was now surfacing with volcanic force.

”You,” Ren said, his voice dropping to a growl that vibrated the ground itself.

His hand moved to his sword, drawing it in one smooth motion. The blade was dark metal etched with runes that seemed to writhe and shift as he poured mana into it. It’s edge catching the eternal sunset.

Sylph made a sound like a strangled gasp, her tiny form going completely rigid.

Ren’s face twisted with rage that had been aging for three hundred years, fury that had never diminished despite the passage of time.

His bloodlust erupted outward like a tidal wave. Thick red aura that made reality itself seem to strain.

The pressure hit Rhys like a freight train, driving him to his knees. His legs buckled, his arms shook, and sweat broke out across his forehead despite the comfortable temperature.

This wasn’t just intimidation. This was power so overwhelming that his body gave up trying to resist it.

Breathing became difficult. Thinking became harder. All he could focus on was the crushing weight of Ren’s rage pressing down on everything within range.

Sylph tried to fly backward, her wings beating frantically, but she was clearly struggling against the pressure as well. Her tiny form trembled, black-and-green eyes wide with terror.

Ren took a step forward, his sword raised, every line of his body screaming death.

”Three hundred years,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. ”Three hundred years I’ve waited. And here you are.”

Loryn materialized from the shadows, stepping between Ren and Sylph with his hands raised placatingly. ”Lord Ryzard, please. The spirit is under the young master’s protection...”

”I don’t care,” Ren interrupted, his star-bright eyes blazing. ”That thing helped orchestrate my death. She and six others, all contracted to the Prosperity Kingdoms, all working together to trap me and cast me into this prison.”

He took another step forward, his bloodlust intensifying until Rhys thought he might pass out from the sheer pressure.

Pho moved to stand beside Loryn, the Deathfrost Demon’s blank white eyes calculating rapidly. He understood that fighting Ren would be suicide, but loyalty to Jack’s interests overrode self-preservation concerns.

Then lightning crashed from the sky.

One moment, the air was clear; the next, a bolt of red electricity struck the ground with such force that it created a crater twenty feet across.

Dust and debris exploded outward, glowing grass torn up and scattered, the shockwave strong enough to make everyone stumble except Ren and Pho, who remained perfectly balanced despite the blast.

When the dust cleared, Jack stood in the center of the crater, red lightning crackling across his skin, his red eyes blazing with intensity as he stared down Ren.

”Ren,” Jack said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, ”you shouldn’t try to harm my guests.”

The bloodlust didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified, Ren’s fury finding a new target to focus on, someone who dared interrupt his vengeance.

”That spirit,” Ren said, his sword still raised and pointing at Sylph, ”is responsible for my imprisonment. She and six others bound themselves to the Prosperity Kingdoms’ champions, used their combined power to weaken me, to trap me, to make me vulnerable to the curse that cast me into this tower.”

Jack’s gaze shifted to Sylph, who couldn’t meet his eyes. The tiny spirit hovered near the ground, her entire form shaking, unable to form words.

”Is this true?” Jack asked, his tone neutral, but curiosity piqued his interest.

”You don’t understand,” Sylph managed to whisper. ”There’s more to the story...”

”I don’t care about the story,” Ren interrupted, his voice booming across the landscape. ”I care about justice. Three hundred years of imprisonment because she and her kind chose to serve those who betrayed me.”

His bloodlust became visible, a red aura so thick it distorted the air, so powerful that nearby grass began wilting from proximity alone.

Rhys felt consciousness slipping away, the pressure too much for his body to handle.

Even Pho and Loryn looked strained, their forms tense as they struggled against the overwhelming force of Ren’s rage.

Jack stepped forward, positioning himself directly between Ren and Sylph. His expression was calm, despite the circumstances seeming impossible.

”We have a deal,” Jack said quietly, his voice somehow cutting through the maelstrom of bloodlust. ”You want to leave this tower. You need me to bind your soul and grant you passage to the outside world.”

He met Ren’s star-bright eyes without flinching. ”If you want to leave, you will not touch the spirit. That’s non-negotiable.”

The silence that followed felt like the moment before an avalanche, everything balanced on a knife’s edge, waiting to see which way it would fall.

Ren’s jaw clenched, muscles tightening beneath his armor. His sword remained raised, the weapon trembling slightly, not from weakness, but from the force of restraining centuries of accumulated fury.

Then, slowly, Ren lowered his blade.

The bloodlust didn’t vanish, but it retracted slightly, becoming more focused and less scattered. Still oppressive and dangerous, but no longer actively trying to crush everyone in range.

”Fine,” Ren said, the word scraping out between clenched teeth. ”Your deal stands.”

He sheathed his sword slowly, each inch of blade disappearing into its scabbard like closing a cage on a wild animal.

Jack nodded once, acknowledgment without triumph. ”Good. Then let’s proceed. If you’re ready, I can bind your soul now. We should start if you truly want to leave the tower.”

Ren’s star-bright eyes studied Jack for a long moment, something complex passing behind that ancient gaze. Then he closed his eyes, his body relaxed, and waited for the process to start.

”Do it,” Ren said quietly.

Jack raised one hand, mana beginning to flow through his fingers as he prepared to activate his Soul Warden abilities.

A white light crackled across his arm, building in intensity as power accumulated.

The binding process began as Jack’s consciousness reached out toward Ren’s essence, preparing to establish the connection that would bind the ancient hero to his service.

Then the System notification appeared.

[WARNING]