Reborn As Noble

Gurdan stepped back from the war table, lifting his chin with confidence.

“After that… once Edmund is devoured… I’ll become the complete vessel.”

His voice grew stronger.

“With my power alone, and the aura it gives my soldiers, we’ll stand unshaken. No one will be able to stop us. Not the elves. Not the beastkin. Their kingdoms will fall one after another.”

Inside his mind, the celestial screamed with joy.

“Yes! Kill them! Devour them all! We will rise above every kingdom! Above every bloodline! Above every god!”

But then Gurdan’s eyes narrowed.

His tone shifted.

“There’s only one problem.”

The celestial suddenly went quiet.

Gurdan clenched his jaw.

“…Garius.”

Silence.

Even the ever-mocking celestial voice didn’t respond.

Gurdan’s fists tightened.

“That Overpowered man… he sealed the celestials before. Sealed you like nothing. Like trash.”

Still, no answer.

Gurdan’s eyes stayed locked on the table.

For the first time in a long while, the celestial didn’t laugh.

Inside Gurdan’s mind, the silence finally broke.

“Hey… even if he’s Overpowered, he’s just one man,” the celestial said, voice low but growing louder again. “He alone couldn’t fight your army.”

Gurdan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak yet.

The celestial continued, gaining speed.

“So what if he’s powerful? You have nearly a million soldiers under your command.”

Gurdan slowly nodded.

“But he also has an army,” he muttered.

There was a pause.

Then the celestial scoffed.

“What? That little force? Just ninety thousand?”

Gurdan stared at the map again.

“We both know he can do a lot with very little.”

The celestial laughed louder this time.

“Please! Don’t forget! The strong hero Kenjirou already lost to us, remember? That man had legendary skills too, and still we crushed him! His celestial? Gone! Devoured!”

Gurdan smirked again.

“Right… you’re right.”

He stepped forward and pressed his hand against the map.

“Ninety thousand or not, once I devour Edmund and become complete, not even Garius will stand in our way.”

The celestial hissed in delight.

“That’s more like it.”

Dwarven Frontline, Western Stronghold

Gumarak rode his battle wolf, its thick black fur bristling as it moved swiftly across the rough terrain. The massive beast’s paws crushed the dirt with every step, keeping pace with the rest of the heavy cavalry unit riding behind him—dwarves in full plate armor, each mounted on their own battle wolves.

“Chieftain! It’s dangerous out here!” one of the captains called out from beside him. “Let us inspect the front instead!”

“No,” Gumarak said firmly without turning. “I need to see the frontline myself. I won’t sit in safety while our soldiers bleed holding the line.”

The wind howled, carrying the faint scent of smoke from distant battles. His eyes scanned the distant cliffs.

Inside him, the celestial stirred, but Gumarak had long since stopped listening. He had learned to ignore its voice, to follow his own judgment.

“Any update from the messengers we sent?” he asked, not slowing down.

One of the scouts rode up, his face grim.

“I’m sorry, Chieftain… but most of the messengers never returned. They’re either missing or confirmed dead.”

Gumarak’s jaw tightened.

“Damn it!!” he growled loudly, slamming a fist down on his saddle.

“I was hoping at least one would make it to the Beastkin Kingdom. Just one! That was all I needed!”

Silence followed.

Gumarak clenched the reins tightly, his battle wolf sensing the tension and slowing slightly.

“If only one messenger could succeed…” he muttered under his breath. “Just one.”

He looked up at the horizon, jaw clenched.

“At least the formal request for assistance would reach the Beastkin Kingdom. That alone might save my people from this suffering…”

The soldiers riding near him remained quiet, watching their chieftain wrestle with thoughts heavier than armor.

“I don’t care if Garius, Lioness, Mylezra, or even Veldrac start nagging me because of this cursed celestial.”

His voice grew harsher.

“They can lecture me all they want.”

He narrowed his eyes, filled with anger and desperation.

“I’d rather have Garius seal this cursed thing again. I don’t want it anymore.”

The wind picked up. No one spoke.

Gumarak shouted, slamming his gauntlet against his chestplate.

“Damn it!!”

His cry echoed over the cliffs.

But still, no message had arrived.

Beastkin Kingdom, Border Wall Outpost

The morning sun was just rising over the misty hills when the beastkin guards stationed at the border wall spotted movement in the distance.

“Movement! Something’s coming!” one of the lookouts shouted.

Down the slope, someone was running—fast—being chased by shadowy figures.

The beastkin captain raised his voice.

“ARCHERS! READY!”

The archers moved into position along the wall, their bows already drawn, mana surging through the strings and arrowheads.

Each breath was steady.

Each arrow gleamed faintly with mana light.

The captain narrowed his eyes through the spyglass.

He saw the figure clearly now—short, stocky build, armor battered, waving something in one hand.

“…A dwarf?”

More roars echoed behind the runner.

Unknown monsters, dark-skinned and twisted, surged toward the lone dwarf with inhuman speed.

The captain’s grip tightened.

“HOLD STEADY!” he barked.

The archers kept their aim locked, mana humming quietly.

The captain raised his hand—

Then shouted.

“FIRE AT THE MONSTERS!”

Dozens of arrows launched in perfect rhythm, cutting through the sky like a wave of light.

The dwarf staggered as arrows rained down around him. Even though they weren’t aimed directly at him, the shockwaves from the mana-charged strikes blasted the ground, shaking the earth beneath his boots.

He gritted his teeth and dove forward, narrowly avoiding the burst of wind magic that exploded just behind him.

His breathing was ragged. His armor dented. Blood dripped from a gash on his shoulder.

But he was still alive.

“At last…” he gasped, eyes fixed on the towering stone wall ahead.

He could see the beastkin banner fluttering strongly in the wind above it.

He stumbled forward.

“I made it… while all the others… didn’t…”

He remembered every face—his fellow messengers who had scattered to different paths. Some were hunted down by monsters. Others caught by human troops before they could escape. Some had disappeared without a trace.

He was the last.

Even he had nearly died when one of the creatures ambushed him in the mountain pass. If not for sheer luck and stubborn will, he wouldn’t be here.

Now… just a little more.

His legs burned. His chest heaved.

“Just a bit more… please…”

The gates were still closed.

But he didn’t care.

He reached into his cloak and pulled out the bloodstained scroll, still sealed.

“If this… reaches them… then my mission is complete…”

( End Of Chapter )

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