Reborn As Noble

Gloria’s eyes remained sharp, her grip firm on her warhammer as she positioned herself between the bodies and the approaching figures. Even with the battle over, she didn’t relax.

She had been trained and had fought, even serving in the Elite Battle Maid Unit under Lady Errinette herself.

And yet...

She had never seen these people before. No presence. No aura. Nothing—just shadows moving through the trees.

Her voice was calm but laced with tension.

”Young Master… how can you be so sure they belong to Armand? That they’re part of Mr. Alf’s elite assassin unit?”

Javier let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

”Seriously, Gloria?”

She didn’t respond. Her focus didn’t waver.

Javier nodded at the lead figure. ”Show them your arm.”

The masked man nodded silently.

”As you wish, Young Master.”

He stepped forward and pulled back his sleeve.

Nothing. His arm was smooth and unmarked.

Liana tilted her head slightly, and Gloria narrowed her eyes.

Javier waved lazily. ”Now channel your mana.”

The man complied.

A soft glow ran through his arm, and then—

Two emblems appeared—one faintly pulsing on his forearm, the other just above it.

The first was the unmistakable crest of House Armand, woven in brilliant silver-blue mana. The second—smaller and darker—depicted a serpent coiled around a dagger, the personal mark of Alf’s assassin division, known only to those within Armand’s inner shadow force.

Silent. Swift. Loyal.

Gloria’s eyes widened slightly. Liana let out a quiet breath.

”...So it’s true,” Gloria muttered.

Javier gave a relaxed shrug.

”They were never meant to be seen. That’s kind of the point. If you can see them, you’re either dead... or they’re showing themselves on purpose.”

He offered a half-smile.

”Lucky for us, it’s the second one.”

The man bowed again. ”We’ll begin the full investigation immediately, Young Master. We will not leave a single piece of evidence unchecked.”

”Good.” Javier turned, glancing back toward the field of corpses.

”Let’s see which coward thought they could stab at Armand without getting burned.”

As the investigation team silently spread across the battlefield, checking each body, confirming mana signatures, collecting talismans, and marking every trace—Liana’s hand moved slowly to the hilt of her blade, still wary.

She didn’t trust them completely—not yet.

But before her blade even cleared the sheath—

The lead assassin’s voice cut sharply through the quiet night.

”The battlefield is not over.”

His tone was calm, not threatening, yet it carried a sense of command and finality—the kind that came only from those who had walked through countless corpses.

Liana paused.

”Don’t casually unsheathe your weapon,” the man continued, turning slightly to lock his eyes beneath the mask.

”And you too.” He nodded toward Gloria.

”Don’t even think about letting your guard down.”

Behind him, the rest of the assassin unit moved with ruthless precision. Weapons still drawn, they checked every single body—even those clearly dead. Some stabbed the corpses again; others severed fingers to disrupt latent spell tags. One quietly decapitated a fallen enemy wearing illusion armor, just in case.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It was standard protocol.

An unfinished battlefield meant a possible second death.

”That’s how you do the work,” the commander said plainly, his voice steady as he turned back toward the trees, scanning the perimeter.

”When the enemy comes to disturb our peace... we make sure they never get up again.”

Javier stood nearby, arms folded, watching in silence. He didn’t say anything because he agreed completely.

Liana turned to Javier, her dual blades still resting in their sheaths, her eyes silently asking for confirmation.

Javier simply gave a small nod.

No words—just trust. That was enough.

Liana drew her blades with quiet grace, stepping forward without hesitation. Her movements were calmer now, more focused—not for battle, but for cleanup.

She joined the assassin unit, moving between bodies with care, observing how they worked—double-checking corpses, scanning for mana residue, and disarming subtle curses.

This wasn’t just combat.

This was discipline.

Silence.

Professionalism.

As she leaned toward one of the fallen assassins, preparing to pierce through the chest—

The assassin commander suddenly raised his hand sharply.

A silent stop signal.

Everyone froze.

His voice came low but firm.

”That one. Step back.”

Liana halted mid-motion.

The commander stepped in, knelt beside the corpse, and waved his hand slowly over it—his mana interacting with the subtle layers beneath.

A faint shimmer rippled from the body’s surface. Then it pulsed once—briefly revealing a glyph.

”Magical trap. Blood-activated,” he said coldly. ”Likely set to detonate with curse poison or a soul-binding spell when pierced.”

He turned to her, his voice still composed.

”This is why we confirm. Not everything that’s dead is harmless.”

Liana took a slow breath and nodded.

She was beginning to understand.

The assassin leader reached into his coat and pulled out a small, rune-inscribed black glass bottle. Without a word, he uncorked it—a faint hiss escaping as the glowing white liquid inside swirled like smoke made liquid.

He poured it carefully over the trapped corpse, the substance seeping into the flesh and armor with eerie smoothness.

One by one, the other members of the unit followed his lead, each producing a similar bottle and pouring its contents over select bodies across the field.

The forest grew silent once again.

Tense.

Purposeful.

When they finished, the leader stepped back several paces. His voice, low and commanding, echoed in the hush.

”White Fire—ignite.”

At his command, he snapped his fingers—mana flaring at his fingertips.

FOOM—!!

The corpses ignited instantly—not with normal fire, but with an intense, ghostly white flame. It devoured the bodies, leaving the ground untouched. No heat. No smell of rot. Just quiet, pure incineration.

Cursed items cracked and shattered.

Dark glyphs sizzled and vanished.

Traps disarmed themselves in bursts of dying light.

The flames danced silently, cleansing the battlefield with an otherworldly glow that made even Liana and Gloria pause.

Javier watched, his eyes reflecting the glow. He didn’t smile. He simply stood there, observing the flames consume the last evidence of those who had dared to raise blades against Armand.

( End of Chapter )