The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Chapter 115: The Lion’s Pride

The grand halls of Lionhart Castle were already abuzz with preparations for what would be the most extravagant event in decades. Servants hurried through the corridors, hands full of luxurious fabrics, rare decorations, and exotic foods from every corner of the Runiya continent. Chandeliers were polished until they gleamed like new stars, and fountains were being erected in the gardens, soon to be filled with the purest water imported from the snow-capped peaks of Eldora.

But despite the flurry of activity, an uneasy tension hung in the air, as if the castle itself could sense that something far more significant than a celebration was approaching.

In his private study, Roman Lionhart sat behind his oak desk, his fingers lightly drumming on its surface. The usual sharpness in his eyes was softened by a rare moment of introspection. On the desk lay an ancient, weathered scroll—one that had not been unrolled in years. His gaze lingered on the scroll, though his mind was far from the inked pages. Instead, his thoughts were consumed by his grandson, Klaus, and the sudden whirlwind of power he had unleashed.

"To think... the youngest Swordsmaster in history," Roman muttered under his breath, his voice both proud and concerned. "But at what cost?"

The castle doors creaked open, breaking Roman’s reverie. Rick, one of his his trusted retainer, entered with measured steps, bowing deeply before the Lionhart patriarch. His face was a mix of respect and the unease he could no longer hide.

"My lord," Rick began, standing at attention, "the preparations for the ball are well underway. Samuel is ensuring every noble house and dignitary will be in attendance. It will be a spectacle unmatched in history."

Roman didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he studied Rick. There was something different about his old friend today, something unspoken that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"Tell me, Rick," Roman finally said, his voice low and calm, "what troubles you?"

Rick hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It is... the young master, my lord. Klaus. His connection with the Black Dragon. I fear the consequences of such a bond."

Roman’s expression darkened, though he remained outwardly calm. "The Black Dragon," he repeated, as if the very name tasted bitter on his tongue. "A creature of legend, feared and revered by even the most powerful mages. And now, my grandson has forged a contract with one."

Rick blinked, surprised by the intensity of Roman’s response. The old lion’s smile was one of a man who had long ago accepted the inevitability of battle.

"I have spent my life building this empire, Rick. I have forged alliances, crushed enemies, and bled for this family. And now, my grandson stands on the cusp of greatness. If the world thinks it can stop him, then let it try. I will be there to watch them fail."

Roman stepped forward, his eyes locking with Rick’s. "But I will not be idle. You are right—this ball will attract more than just well-wishers. Spies, assassins, enemies disguised as friends—they will all be there. I need you and the Specters to ensure that none of them leaves here with their lives if they mean harm to my grandson."

Rick bowed deeply. "It will be done, my lord. No one will lay a hand on young master Klaus."

"Good." Roman turned back to his desk, his voice quieter now but no less commanding. "Now go. There is much to prepare, and I suspect this ball will be far more eventful than anyone anticipates."

Rick nodded and left the room, his steps echoing down the corridor as the heavy door closed behind him. Alone once more, Roman sat at his desk, his fingers brushing the edge of the scroll that lay before him. He didn’t unroll it. He didn’t need to. Experience more tales on empire

He already knew what was written within—an ancient prophecy, passed down through the Lionhart bloodline for generations. A prophecy that spoke of a boy with power beyond measure, who would either unite the continent under one banner or plunge it into chaos.

Was the prophecy really about Klaus?

Roman closed his eyes, his mind returning to that vision, to the blood-soaked dreams that haunted his nights. Klaus had inherited more than just power. He had inherited the weight of destiny. And destiny, Roman knew, was a cruel mistress.

"Soon, my grandson," Roman whispered to the empty room, "soon, you will see the true Role of our family in this twisted world. And when that day comes... I pray you are ready."

The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the room, as if the past itself were watching, waiting, and whispering the ancient secrets of the Lionhart legacy.