The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

The four entities that emerged from the dimensional portals defied expectations entirely. Where terrifying monstrosities might have been anticipated, beings of elegant refinement stood in their place. Each demon possessed features that spoke of aristocratic bearing—sharp, perfectly sculpted faces with proportions that suggested nobility rather than horror.

Their appearance was striking rather than revolting. Tall and graceful, they moved with fluid coordination that emphasized supernatural poise. Their attire suggested formal court dress adapted for beings whose existence transcended normal dimensional boundaries—garments that seemed woven from shadow and starlight, elegant yet clearly otherworldly.

Yet despite their refined appearance, an aura of absolute wrongness radiated from each figure. The scent of death clung to them like expensive perfume, sweet and cloying yet unmistakably connected to decay. It was the smell of battlefields after rain, of flowers placed on fresh graves, of final breaths exhaled in darkened chambers.

Their presence filled the banquet hall with energy that made living beings instinctively recoil. This wasn't mere danger—it was the pure expression of death given form, cessation of existence refined into aesthetic principle. Every breath they took seemed to steal vitality from surrounding atmosphere, every movement suggesting entropy accelerated through conscious application.

Klaus stared at the summoned entities with expression that combined terror and profound disgust. His crystalline eyes reflected understanding that transcended mere recognition of threat—this was violation of fundamental laws that governed existence itself.

"What have you done," he whispered, his harmonic voice carrying throughout the chamber despite its quiet delivery. The horror in his tone penetrated even the overwhelming presence of the demons, reaching every ear with perfect clarity.

Sabrina's response was delighted laughter that carried musical quality despite its malevolent undertones. Her crimson eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she observed Klaus's reaction, clearly pleased by his evident distress.

"Hahaha! It's not really a complete summoning yet!" she announced with evident pleasure, her voice carrying cheerful enthusiasm that made her words even more unsettling. "Though I used excellent ingredients—rather fine sacrifices—and poured almost half of my Arcane Energy into the working, they can only remain in this realm for thirty minutes and access perhaps thirty percent of their true power."

She paused, studying the assembled dignitaries with predatory assessment that suggested calculation rather than mere cruelty. "Though that's definitely enough to kill you all."

Her tone carried the casual indifference of someone discussing weather rather than mass murder. The disconnect between her elegant appearance and absolute callousness created cognitive dissonance that made her words even more chilling.

"To be honest," she continued with conversational ease, "I originally planned simply to come here, eliminate everyone present, and collect the high-tier bodies for my experiments. Such valuable specimens—continental nobility, military leaders, diplomatic representatives. All perfect materials for advanced workings."

The casual admission of premeditated mass murder sent fresh waves of terror through those capable of comprehension. She spoke of their deaths as though discussing harvest of particularly fine crops, reducing human lives to mere components in supernatural methodology.

"But now I'm genuinely intrigued," she mused, her gaze shifting between Klaus and Alex with renewed interest. "I wonder what kind of results—what manner of demons—I might summon using the bodies of two Apostles."

The word struck the assembly like thunderbolt. Apostles—a term carrying religious significance yet clearly intended in context that transcended conventional theology. Most present lacked framework for understanding her meaning, though the implication was clearly sinister.

Roman's expression remained perfectly controlled, yet frost patterns around his feet intensified dramatically. His understanding of the term was evident, though he revealed nothing through gesture or expression that might confirm Sabrina's accusation.

The Beast Emperor's golden eyes narrowed fractionally, his ritual markings pulsing with increased frequency beneath ceremonial attire. Like Roman, he recognized significance in Sabrina's revelation without providing obvious confirmation through reaction.

"Compared to the other Apostles I've encountered," Sabrina continued with academic interest, "especially compared to the one I met in the Arkadia continent, you and your cousin remain quite weak. So the opportunity is rather... enticing."

Her casual reference to continental-scale conspiracy sent implications rippling through those capable of political analysis. If Apostles existed across multiple continents, if they represented organization with scope exceeding normal understanding, then tonight's events transcended local threat entirely.

Alex felt Pride's golden energy churning within him as their secret was exposed before assembly of continental powers. The careful narrative he had maintained throughout his advancement lay in ruins, replaced by accusation that painted him as member of supernatural conspiracy.

One of the demons stepped forward, its movement carrying grace that emphasized refined breeding rather than predatory instinct. When it spoke, its voice carried cultured tones that suggested education in arts of communication as well as destruction.

"What do you wish, Priestess?" it inquired with elegant diction that made the title sound like honorific rather than mere description.

The formal address revealed hierarchy that extended beyond immediate summoning—Sabrina held position of authority among entities whose existence transcended dimensional limitations. She was not merely practitioner who had compelled their service, but recognized leader whose commands carried weight across multiple realms.

Sabrina's response came with smile that transformed her beautiful features into mask of pure malevolence. The expression was subtle yet profound—joy at anticipated suffering refined into art form through supernatural methodology.

"Kill them all," she commanded with sadistic satisfaction that made her words carry weight beyond mere instruction.

The four demons acknowledged her order with synchronized bow that emphasized their aristocratic bearing. Yet despite their elegant appearance, anticipation radiating from their forms made clear they looked forward to violence with enthusiasm that transcended professional duty.

In the space between heartbeats, they vanished.

Their movement was so rapid it defied visual tracking entirely. One moment they stood before Sabrina in formal arrangement, the next they had dispersed throughout the chamber with speed that made Alex's enhanced reflexes seem sluggish by comparison.

The first demon materialized before Lord Cartwright, a senior diplomatic representative whose family had served imperial interests for generations. His expression showed he was still processing Sabrina's revelation about Apostles when elegant hand made contact with his face.

The slap appeared almost gentle—barely more than tap against cheek. Yet the result was devastating. Lord Cartwright's head exploded in spray of blood and bone that painted nearby nobles in crimson evidence of supernatural force applied with casual precision.

The second demon appeared beside Admiral Korven, whose naval career had prepared him for various forms of violence yet provided no framework for this elegant annihilation. The creature's palm met his temple with touch so light it might have been caress, yet the admiral's skull simply ceased to exist in burst of gore that sent his headless body toppling among horrified witnesses.

The third demon materialized before General Thorne, veteran of multiple continental campaigns whose battlefield experience proved worthless against opponent whose capabilities transcended conventional warfare. The demon's fingertips brushed across the general's forehead like blessing, yet the contact vaporized everything above his shoulders in explosion of organic matter that coated surrounding nobility.

The fourth demon appeared beside Duke Ravencrest, whose family lineage traced back to the empire's founding. His final expression showed confusion rather than fear—he died without understanding what had killed him as delicate touch reduced his head to mist of blood that hung momentarily in air before gravity claimed it.

The elegant slaughter had taken perhaps three seconds total. Four prominent figures—men whose deaths would reshape continental politics—eliminated with casual ease that emphasized the demons' restraint rather than their limits.

Terror erupted throughout the banquet hall with primal intensity that shattered all remaining pretense of diplomatic composure. Nobles screamed with voices that cracked under strain of witnessing impossible violence. Military representatives reached for weapons with hands that trembled beyond control. Even seasoned courtiers found themselves reduced to animal fear in face of elegant annihilation.

The four demons stood beside their victims' corpses with expressions of mild satisfaction, as though completing routine task rather than committing mass murder. Their aristocratic bearing remained perfect despite blood spattering their elegant attire—stains that seemed to enhance rather than diminish their otherworldly refinement.

Chaos consumed the chamber as survival instincts overrode centuries of civilized behavior, yet the demons merely observed with patient interest, clearly anticipating additional opportunities to demonstrate their lethal artistry upon increasingly helpless prey.