The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

The Coliseum was eerily silent.

Only moments ago, murmurs and whispers of disbelief had filled the air, but now, under the weight of what was to come, the gathered trainees stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the man who stood atop the central stone platform—Melo.

Melo was no mere instructor. He was Roman Lionhart's most trusted right-hand man, a figure of absolute authority within the family. Though his face was hidden behind a silver mask, his piercing golden eyes were visible through the openings, glowing like those of a predator surveying its prey.

For decades, he had served the Lionhart Patriarch, ensuring that Roman's will was carried out without fail. Those who knew of him understood one thing—Melo never spoke without reason, and he never acted without purpose.

The air around him was heavy, suffocating even. He stood with effortless control, his black robes still despite the wind, exuding the kind of authority that made it clear—he was not here for formalities.

Melo observed them in silence.

The arena seemed to respond to his stillness. The cheers and commotion from the crowd had vanished, replaced by a thick, oppressive tension that coiled around the trainees like an unseen serpent. The only sounds now were the occasional creak of armor, the faint rustle of the wind, and the low hum of magical wards etched into the stone beneath their feet.

And then, finally, he spoke.

His voice was calm but unyielding, echoing across the coliseum like the weight of a verdict.

"Congratulations. You have survived the first trial."

There was no warmth in his tone. No praise. Just a statement of fact.

Klaus, standing at the front, remained motionless, his piercing blue eyes revealing nothing. From the beginning, he had known—the first trial had been a mere test of endurance. The real battle was about to begin.

Beside him, Nicholas Davoss listened intently, his crimson-red eyes flickering with thought. He was always analyzing, always considering every possible angle. His mind worked like a clockwork mechanism, constantly dissecting every word Melo spoke, every gesture he made.

Alex Lionhart, still burning from his defeat, clenched his fists. His ego was bruised, but his determination was unshaken. His jaw tightened each time he saw Klaus's calm demeanor.

The other trainees stood behind them, some eager, others uncertain. But all of them waited.

Melo finally continued.

"Now, let us address what comes next. The second trial."

He raised one hand, palm down.

The coliseum trembled.

Beneath their feet, the ground shook violently, sending a deep, guttural echo through the arena.

Something was waking up.

The air grew heavier. The distant sound of claws scraping against stone sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened trainees.

A few of the younger ones tensed, their hands gripping their weapons as if expecting the beasts to break through the floor at any moment. Others instinctively shifted closer to their peers, seeking comfort in proximity.

Nicholas's brow furrowed as he watched the runes lining the arena walls shift and pulse with new energy. They're old… ancient, he realized. Why use such high-level containment runes for a mere trial?

Melo's golden eyes scanned them all, his expression unreadable behind the silver mask.

"Beneath us," he said evenly, "are creatures sealed away long ago. Beasts of varying strengths. Some… you may be able to kill. Others, you will only hope to survive against."

A few gasps.

Melo ignored them.

"This second trial is simple," he continued, voice like ice. "You will face waves of these creatures. With each wave, the difficulty will increase. You will fight until you can no longer stand, until you surrender, or until the trial is completed."

Klaus remained impassive. Nicholas's fingers twitched slightly, his mind already calculating the risks.

Alex scoffed. Finally, a challenge worth fighting.

But then—

Melo took a step forward.

His golden eyes seemed to burn into their very souls.

"However…"

Silence.

The tension in the air became suffocating. Klaus's hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his sword, while Nicholas shifted his weight subtly, preparing for the worst.

Melo's gaze swept over them, lingering for a moment on Klaus.

"None of you are required to participate."

A ripple of confusion spread through the crowd.

Melo's voice remained calm.

"Unlike the first trial, there is no shame in leaving now. There is no penalty. No one will call you weak. No one will force you into battle."

He let the words sink in.

"But understand this—if you choose to stay, your safety is not guaranteed. The captains will not intervene. If you are injured—if you are maimed—if you die… it will be on you."

A few of the younger trainees visibly tensed. One boy near the back swallowed hard, his face pale as the implications of those words hit home.

The older ones swallowed but remained firm.

Melo's mask tilted slightly as he surveyed them all, as if weighing their worth.

Then, his voice dropped into something colder.

"So tell me."

The air itself seemed to freeze.

"Is it worth risking your life… just to join a Lionhart armed force three years ahead of schedule?"

The weight of the decision pressed down on the trainees. Some shifted their feet, uncertainty cracking the bravado many had displayed earlier.

Melo took another step forward, voice cutting deeper.

"You are children. Some of you are barely twelve. Others have no noble backing, no powerful bloodline. Some of you are weak, frail, insignificant. You may think you are strong, but strength means nothing in the face of the unknown."

His words hung over them like a dark storm cloud.

In the stands, the captains of the Lionhart armed forces watched in silence. Captain Estelle, her arms crossed, leaned toward Marcus.

"He's testing their will," she murmured.

Marcus nodded. "He wants to weed out the ones who break before the monsters even appear."
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And then—

He delivered the final challenge.

"If you truly believe yourselves worthy—if you are willing to risk everything—step forward now."

For a single heartbeat, no one moved.

Then—

Klaus stepped forward.

Not a flicker of hesitation.

His silver hair barely moved in the breeze as he met Melo's gaze without flinching.

A second later, Nicholas followed, his crimson-red eyes glowing slightly under the setting sun.

Alex exhaled slowly before stepping forward with a smirk. Of course I'm going.

And then—

Every single trainee stepped forward.

All of them.

Melo stood still.

Watching.

Judging.

Behind the silver mask, something shifted in his golden eyes.

Even after being warned… they all choose to fight.

Even knowing death is a possibility… they refuse to back down.

He had expected many to leave. After all, the captains only truly cared about three of them—Klaus, Nicholas, and Alex.

The others? Expendable.

And yet, not one of them turned away.

Melo's fingers twitched slightly at his side.

The younger generation's spirit… it's stronger than expected.

Finally, he exhaled, raising a hand.

The coliseum trembled again.

From the center of the arena, an ancient metal gate groaned as it began to rise.

The air filled with a foul stench—rotting flesh and blood.

Behind it—

Glowing red eyes flickered in the darkness.

A wall of growls and inhuman breathing filled the air.

Melo turned back to the trainees.

His golden eyes burned behind his mask.

"Very well. The trial begins."