Reborn As Noble

Chapter 718: Cycle of Regeneration ( 718 )

His fingers slowly curled into a fist at his side.

But you made a mistake, Edmund.

A huge mistake.

His heart pounded fiercely once, anger.

Cold, controlled, yet deadly, flowing through his veins.

You brought my mother into this.

My mother.

Javier’s jaw tightened, eyes hard behind his glasses.

My father… my family…

How dare you threaten my people.

Suddenly, a surge of pure white aura began to rise from Javier’s form. Calmly and steadily, wrapped around him in elegant waves, a stark contrast to the violent dark miasma Edmund commanded.

He smiled coldly.

Because of that, Edmund…

I will personally make sure you regret ever crossing the Armand family.

The white mana flared once brightly around him, radiant and defiant, illuminating the quiet night.

And especially… for daring to speak her name.

Suddenly..

The relentless hum of spinning mana rotors stopped.

One by one, the drones above Edmund’s war camp flickered, and vanished from the sky, dispersed in bursts of light as if their purpose had been fulfilled.

The onslaught came to a halt.

The skies fell silent.

Even the next wave of mana missiles that had been shrieking through the air moments ago… stopped mid-flight. Their trails of light blinked out, leaving only the fading echoes of explosions across the field.

Edmund lifted his eyes to the sky.

“…Hoh?”

A slow grin returned to his face.

Twisted, dark, and full of satisfaction.

“So,” he said softly, with smug delight, “your little show is over, brat?”

He chuckled.

Then he started to laugh.

“Looks like my modified soldiers have already reached your position,” Edmund said, licking his lips like a beast that smelled blood. “Good. GOOD!”

He snapped his fingers sharply.

“Mages! Resume the bombardment!”

A chorus of voices responded promptly.

“Launch those cursed fireballs! Burn down their border! I want flames on that damned wall!”

“YES, YOUR MAJESTY!!”

Dozens of elite mages quickly formed their lines, dark mana surging from their cores. One by one, orbs of blackened flame rose into the sky, crackling, pulsing with hatred as they launched another barrage toward the Armand region’s great wall.

Edmund’s gaze shifted to his right.

“Summoners!”

They straightened to attention.

“Move the golems. Advance them toward the Armand wall. No more holding back. CRUSH their frontline!”

The sound of shifting stone echoed across the battlefield as the massive summoned golems began to move, each one pulsing with eerie regeneration runes, marching like titans beneath the dark sky.

“Let’s see you stop this, Garius. Let’s see your brilliant strategies now,” Edmund sneered.

He stepped forward, his dark aura flaring around him like a storm.

“I’m sure that brat is busy right now,” Edmund muttered with a smirk, spreading his arms wide as if basking in the chaos. “Ten thousand of my modified soldiers… stronger, faster, deadlier than those Seventh prototypes…”

He grinned even wider, teeth gleaming like a wolf before the kill.

“What a shame,” he added, his voice lowering to a cold whisper. “I really wanted to crush that boy with my own hands. Tear his limbs off. Hear him scream.”

A long exhale.

“But it seems… I won’t need to.”

He turned slowly, his black cape fluttering in the dry, cursed wind.

“Well then…”

He gazed toward the massive Armand border wall in the distance, its towering defenses faintly lit by the glow of incoming dark fireballs.

“Time to crush those trashy walls.”

He licked his lips.

“And then… I’ll personally walk into Armand.”

His gaze shifted upward.

Behind him—perched along the ridges of the black cliffs and iron scaffolding—the elite wyvern unit waited silently. Rows upon rows of dark-armored riders atop monstrous winged beasts, all shimmering with cursed mana.

Edmund raised a hand to them, eyes glinting.

“Patience, my finest. Your moment is coming soon.”

He grinned again.

“When the wall crumbles, those anti-air guns will be nothing but twisted scrap.”

He clenched his fist.

“And that boy’s little toys… those puppet knights?”

A scoff.

“They won’t even twitch. They’ll be buried beneath rubble, forgotten, broken.”

His voice grew low, cruel.

“He may have stolen the spotlight for now… but the stage belongs to me.”

He turned back toward the horizon, eyes filled with war.

“Armand… is mine.”

Armand Border – Great Wall

The sky erupted in violent bursts of light as Javier’s anti-air mana guns engaged the approaching waves of dark fireballs. Each turret rotated smoothly, tracking their targets with flawless precision, unleashing relentless barrages of concentrated mana rounds. Explosions bloomed in the sky, scattering the corrupted flames harmlessly.

On the battlements, Javier’s Mithril Puppet Knights formed disciplined firing lines. Each knight, wielding sleek mana rifles, fired in tight, calculated volleys, mana bolts cutting through the air with deadly accuracy, intercepting stray projectiles and threats from above.

Meanwhile, Javier’s massive mana cannons hummed to life. Now manned by specialized puppet units, each cannon emitted a resonant pulse before discharging powerful blasts of compressed mana energy into the distance, aimed directly at the advancing enemy forces.

General Hesbeirn stood firm atop the wall, his sharp eyes observing every detail calmly and methodically.

He focused on the approaching ranks of towering dark golems.

His brow furrowed slightly in thought.

“Hmm… Edmund’s relying on summoners now, is he?”

Hesbeirn’s gaze flicked toward Javier’s mana cannons as they released another volley. Blinding flashes of mana surged from their barrels, streaking forward with thunderous roars.

The shots impacted the golems directly, erupting in cascading explosions of white-hot energy.

One after another, the colossal creatures staggered backward.

Stone armor cracking, bodies fracturing under the relentless assault. Explosions tore into their dark forms, shattering limbs and torsos, sending fragments of enchanted stone crashing violently to the ground.

Yet within moments, dark mana surged visibly through their cores, each golem reassembling, reforming broken limbs, and attempting to march forward again.

Hesbeirn narrowed his eyes, observing closely.

“Persistent things…” he murmured, noting the cycle of destruction and regeneration.

He rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his massive blade, calmly assessing the situation.

“But how long can your summoners hold this, Edmund?”

( End Of Chapter )

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