The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Alex's consciousness emerged from darkness like swimmer breaking through murky depths, gasping as awareness returned with jarring intensity. The first sensation was pain—not physical, though his stomach ached where Klaus's fist had connected, but something deeper. Something that cut through ego and pride with surgical precision.

I was unconscious.

The realization struck him like ice water in his veins. Alexander Lionhart, swordmaster at fourteen, Pride's chosen vessel, heir potential to one of the most powerful families on the continent—reduced to helplessness by single blow from his cousin. The memory played through his mind with perfect, humiliating clarity: Klaus appearing before him with speed that rendered observation meaningless, the devastating impact, then... nothing.

Alex sat up in the medical wing's bed, his enhanced physiology having accelerated healing beyond normal human capacity. Days had passed—he could sense that much from the light filtering through windows, the changed energy patterns throughout the estate. Days during which he had been unconscious while others dealt with consequences of events he should have influenced.

The humiliation was absolute. Not merely defeated—that would have been bearable if it had come after genuine struggle. Instead, Klaus had dismissed him like troublesome child, ending their confrontation before it could properly begin. The casual nature of his defeat made it infinitely worse than dramatic loss through overwhelming force.

How dare he.

The thought surfaced with intensity that surprised him. Alex had always prided himself on emotional control, on rational assessment that allowed tactical advantage over opponents who let feelings cloud judgment. Yet now, fury built within him like pressure in sealed vessel, demanding release that threatened to shatter his carefully maintained composure.

Heat spread through his chest, radiating outward with each heartbeat. Not the golden warmth of Pride's enhancement—this was something else, something darker that carried undertones of malice rather than divine authority. Alex pushed himself from bed, muscles responding with strength that felt somehow different, more volatile than previous enhancement had provided.

He embarrassed me. In front of everyone.

The anger intensified, feeding on memory of assembled dignitaries witnessing his humiliation. Roman, Melo, the Beast Emperor, representatives from across the continent—all had seen Klaus render him unconscious with contemptuous ease. His reputation, carefully built through years of disciplined advancement, lay in ruins because of single moment of overwhelming superiority.

Alex walked to window, gazing out at estate grounds where workers continued repairs from Soul Energy damage that Klaus had inflicted. Even architecture bore testament to his cousin's casual dominance, structures requiring reconstruction because Klaus's power exceeded their capacity to contain it.

I trained for years. I achieved communion with Pride. I transcended human limitation. And he... he...

The fury transformed, crystallizing into something colder and infinitely more dangerous. This wasn't mere anger at temporary setback—this was hatred that cut to core of his identity. Klaus represented everything Alex had worked to surpass, yet somehow remained effortlessly superior despite younger age and less disciplined approach to advancement.

I hate him.

The admission felt like dam bursting, releasing torrent of resentment that had been building since childhood. Every time Klaus had achieved something first, every casual display of natural ability that made Alex's struggles seem inadequate, every moment when his cousin's existence had made him feel lesser—all of it crystallized into pure, concentrated loathing.

Deep within Alex's transformed physiology, something responded to this emotional shift with satisfaction that transcended normal reaction. The seed that Pride had planted in Alex, even before their communion—one of seven seeds of chaos that possessed Arkdieu entities—stirred with anticipation of finally achieving proper conditions for growth.

The seed had been feeding slowly, steadily, on Alex's complex of inferiority toward Klaus. Each moment of comparison, each twinge of jealousy, each recognition of his cousin's superior capabilities had nourished the cosmic parasite with emotional energy it required for development. Now, with hatred achieving full bloom, the seed could finally manifest its true purpose.

Dark energy began flowing through Alex's mana pathways with insidious purpose. Where golden light had once enhanced his capabilities through Pride's direct influence, now purple corruption spread through channels that carried power to every corner of his transformed being. The change was subtle—not replacement but addition, shadow that followed light while remaining carefully concealed from conscious awareness.

Alex felt strength flowing through him with intensity that exceeded previous enhancement, yet attributed the increase to righteous fury rather than supernatural corruption. His muscles responded with coordination that surpassed even Pride's normal augmentation, reflexes sharpening to levels that made previous capabilities seem sluggish by comparison.

I'll show him. I'll prove that I'm stronger.

The hatred crystallized into purpose that demanded immediate action. Alex would train, would push his communion with Pride to levels that exceeded Klaus's mysterious abilities. Whatever cosmic forces his cousin had accessed through the Icarus ritual, Alex would match and surpass them through sheer determination and superior partnership with his chosen entity.

As purple energy completed its circuit through his transformed physiology, a mark appeared on Alex's left shoulder blade—small symbol that resembled "69" rendered in lines that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The mark burned briefly before settling into pattern that would remain invisible beneath clothing while serving as testament to fundamental change in his nature.

Alex remained completely unaware of the mark's presence, his attention focused entirely on fury that promised power sufficient to eclipse every previous limitation. He felt stronger than ever before, more capable than Pride's initial enhancement had provided, ready to demonstrate superiority that would erase memory of recent humiliation.

The corruption had integrated seamlessly with his existing enhancement, shadow following light with such precision that detection would require cosmic-level perception to identify. Alex believed his increasing power stemmed from righteous anger and deeper communion with Pride, never suspecting that hatred had opened doorways that should have remained sealed.

* * *

In a realm that existed between dimensional boundaries, where concepts took precedence over physical laws and thought shaped reality through direct application, Pride observed these developments with expression that transcended normal emotional classification.

The entity's features—when it chose to maintain recognizable form—combined classical beauty with predatory sophistication that made mortal concepts of attractiveness seem primitive by comparison. Yet now those perfect features twisted into smile that contained depths of malevolence accumulated across eons of cosmic manipulation.

Pride's mouth curved upward in an expression that managed to be both beautiful and utterly terrifying—lips that spoke words of divine wisdom revealing teeth that could devour civilizations, eyes that held cosmic knowledge reflecting depths that promised destruction rather than enlightenment. The smile was art given form through will that operated on scale beyond mortal comprehension, yet dedicated to purposes that made traditional concepts of evil seem quaint by comparison.

Dark satisfaction radiated from Pride's transformed expression like heat from forge fire, cosmic contentment at plan achieving crucial milestone despite setbacks that had complicated timeline. The seed had finally bloomed, corruption had taken root, and vessel was beginning transformation that would serve purposes extending far past human understanding.

"Good," Pride whispered with voice that harmonized across multiple dimensional frequencies, single word carrying weight of approval accumulated through lifetimes of patient cultivation.

The smile widened further, beauty becoming more terrible as cosmic entity savored success that had required careful nurturing across years of apparent cooperation. Alex believed himself partner in transcendent communion, never realizing he had become instrument in symphony whose final movement would reshape existence according to alien priorities.

In distant realm where gods planned chess moves with civilizations as pieces, Pride's diabolical satisfaction painted impossible colors across void that served as canvas for entities whose artistry operated on scale that included reality itself as medium for creative expression.

The corruption was complete, the vessel was prepared, and endgame approached with inexorable certainty that made mortal concepts of fate seem like children's games by comparison.

Pride's terrible smile promised outcomes that would make current chaos seem like peaceful prelude to symphony of destruction that would announce new age where cosmic forces no longer required subtlety to achieve their incomprehensible objectives.