The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 125 Echoes of Triumph

The ballroom was eerily silent, the whispers of the crowd lingering like the faint hum of an unspoken storm. Klaus stood tall, his sword lowered, its edge gleaming faintly in the warm glow of the enchanted chandeliers above. Across from him, Caidon knelt, his breathing heavy, his pride shattered as much as his strength.

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For a moment, no one moved. The nobles, knights, and dignitaries in attendance seemed frozen in time, their eyes locked on the young swordsman who had just shattered expectations.

Then came the applause.

It started as a hesitant ripple—one clap, then another—until it surged into a wave of thunderous approval. The sound filled the room, reverberating against the vaulted ceilings. Klaus, however, didn't seem to notice. His icy gaze remained fixed on Caidon, who was now clutching his wounded shoulder, his expression a mixture of pain and disbelief.

"You could have killed me," Caidon rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I could have," Klaus replied evenly. His blade vanished with a swift motion, the shimmer of arcane light swallowing it. "But I didn't. Consider it a lesson."

Caidon's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly, before bowing stiffly. It was not an act of respect but one of reluctant acknowledgment.

The sound of boots against polished stone broke through the crowd's applause as a man stepped forward from the throng. He was tall, his broad frame clad in the silvered armor of the royal guard. His golden hair and sharp, hawk-like features marked him as someone of importance.

"An impressive display," the man said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Rarely do we see such mastery at your age."

Klaus turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "And you are?"

The man chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Sir Darion Valcrest, Captain of the King's Vanguard." His piercing gaze swept over Klaus, as though weighing him on some unseen scale. "And you must be Klaus Lionhart. Or should I say… the prodigy everyone whispers about in hushed tones."

Klaus didn't respond.

Darion's smirk widened. "Silent, I see. That's good. Modesty suits a swordsman more than arrogance."

Klaus's eyes narrowed slightly. "If you have something to say, say it."

The crowd hushed again, sensing the tension between the two. Darion's expression didn't falter. Instead, he gestured toward the center of the ballroom, where the remnants of Caidon's shadow domain still lingered like faint scars on the polished floor.

"You've shown skill beyond your years, breaking through an advanced sword domain as if it were child's play. But tell me," Darion said, his tone growing sharper, "was it truly your skill? Or is there something… unnatural about you?"

The air grew heavier.

Klaus's expression remained calm, but his stance shifted subtly, his weight balanced. "You think I cheated?"

"I think you're hiding something," Darion replied. "A swordsman of your age should not possess the precision and power you've demonstrated. And yet, here you are, unscathed, standing over a seasoned opponent. It's suspicious, don't you think?"

Before Klaus could reply, a new voice cut through the tension.

"That's enough, Darion."

The crowd parted as Alexandra Lionhart stepped forward, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a mane of flame. Her emerald eyes gleamed with defiance as she approached Klaus, placing herself between him and the captain of the vanguard.

"Are you accusing my cousin of dishonor?" Alexandra demanded, her voice carrying a regal authority that silenced even the boldest murmurs.

Darion raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering slightly. "Not dishonor, Lady Alexandra. Simply… curiosity. Talent like his is rare, and rare things often come with secrets."

Alexandra's hand fell to the hilt of her rapier, her fingers curling around it in a silent warning. "Talent like his is the result of relentless training and unparalleled dedication. If you doubt that, you're welcome to test him yourself. But don't tarnish his victory with baseless insinuations."

The tension crackled like a live wire, but Darion stepped back, his expression carefully neutral. "I meant no offense, of course. Merely an observation."

Alexandra didn't respond, her gaze fixed on him until he retreated into the crowd. Then she turned to Klaus, her expression softening.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Klaus replied, his voice as calm as ever.

She smiled faintly. "Good. You've made quite the impression tonight. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried for a moment."

Klaus didn't respond, his eyes scanning the crowd. The applause had died down, replaced by a low hum of conversation. Many of the nobles were eyeing him with a mix of admiration and unease, their whispers barely concealed.

One voice stood out amidst the murmurs—a deep, resonant tone that carried a hint of amusement.

"Well, well. The Lionhart cub shows his fangs."

Klaus turned to see an older man leaning against one of the ornate pillars, a goblet of wine in hand. He was dressed in dark, luxurious robes, his silver hair neatly combed back. His eyes, a piercing shade of violet, gleamed with intrigue.

"Lord Malgrin Anos," Alexandra said, her tone instantly guarded.

Klaus's eyes narrowed. The name struck a chord, dredging up memories from his past life. The Anos family was infamous, their power rooted in the darker arts. Lord Malgrin, in particular, was a man of dangerous reputation.

"Your performance was… enlightening," Malgrin said, his lips curling into a smile. "It's not every day we witness the rise of a new contender in the game of power." Read exclusive chapters at novelbuddy.com

"I'm not playing games," Klaus replied coldly.

Malgrin's smile widened. "Oh, but you are, young one. Whether you realize it or not, you've stepped onto the board. And tonight, you've made your first move."

Klaus held his gaze, unflinching.

"Be careful, Klaus," Malgrin continued, his tone almost fatherly. "Strength draws attention. Admiration, yes, but also envy and fear. And fear, my dear boy, is a most dangerous thing."

With that, Malgrin turned and melted into the crowd, his presence lingering like a shadow.

---

As the evening wore on, Klaus found himself surrounded by a sea of nobles eager to gain his favor or uncover his secrets. Flattering words and probing questions came at him from every direction, but he responded to each with the same calm indifference.

Alexandra stayed close, deflecting the more intrusive inquiries with sharp wit and veiled threats. But even she couldn't shield him from the weight of the attention he had drawn.

By the time the gathering began to wind down, Klaus was weary—not from the fight but from the constant scrutiny. He retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom, his mind replaying the events of the night.

Caidon's domain, Darion's accusations, Malgrin's warning—they all pointed to a single, undeniable truth.

This victory had not gone unnoticed.

Klaus was no longer just a young swordsman from a noble family. He was a rising force, and the world had taken notice.

But as he gazed out over the crowd, his expression hardened.

Let them watch. Let them whisper.

Klaus Lionhart had only just begun.