Chapter 4

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Chapter 4: Enemies

That radiant, earnest smile, like warm sunlight piercing through the winter rain, left the future Queen of Magic and her two loyal companions at a loss for words.

By now, they were certain—the supposedly unskilled, level-16 guy who’d joined their team was anything but ordinary. Not only did he possess formidable strength, but he’d also remained effortlessly composed under the Queen of Storms’ intimidating aura.

Whatever his motives, his poise and character alone commanded respect.

“Having someone like him as a trial companion might not be so bad,” Sigmund remarked.

“But if he’s truly an undercover agent, we can’t just let him be,” Lilian countered, her gaze sharp and restless. “Miss Fina, should I test him?”

“Unnecessary,” Fina replied, shaking her head. “I made it clear from the start: anyone who passes the training ground’s assessment joins my team. A promise is a promise.”

Fina also didn’t think Midi meant harm. If he did, he’d have kept a low profile, passing the six-automaton test quietly to blend in before striking at a critical moment. Instead, he’d revealed his strength openly. Her instincts told her he was genuine.

“Midi Asreks,” Fina announced, watching the black-haired boy wipe sweat from his brow, “you’re now part of my team. Your next task is simple: secure first place in the trial. Can you handle it?”

“I’ll give it my all,” Midi answered, steadying his breathing.

Sigmund’s admiration, Lilian’s suspicion, and the Queen of Storms’ acknowledgment warmed Midi’s heart. His hard-won victory—risking exposure so soon after his reincarnation—had paid off.

Though trust remained distant, he’d at least entered Fina’s sights. Now, his advice during the trial might carry weight instead of being dismissed outright.

But the battle had also laid bare his limits. The boy was far less composed than he’d pretended—those initial evasions had drained him, and fighting eight intermediate automatons had pushed him to the brink. Using a swordsman’s body to unleash techniques like the demon slash strained him to the core.

This body still belonged to a pampered noble. Though his soul burned with ambition, his physical form lagged behind.

He needed more power.

As Midi brooded, a roaring sound shook the training ground’s doors open.

Servants marched in unison, their synchronized steps heavier than the pouring rain, pounding against every heart. The guards formed two flawless lines, creating a broad path to the lavish carriage outside—pulled by eight pureblood horses.

A blonde boy stepped down, tall as a grown man, his golden spikes of hair framing a handsome, icy face.

The moment he entered, the damp air crackled with tension. Even steady Sigmund and Lilian grew solemn, while Fina kept her usual mocking smirk.

Midi’s pupils narrowed to slits.

“Fenrir Sais…” he breathed.

Memories surged—past and present—as his fists clenched.

This boy, named after the legendary ice wolf, was the Sais family’s chief heir and the Senator’s faction’s representative. For now, he stood as Midi’s “comrade,” since the Asreks family still sided with the Senator’s faction.

Fenrir had manipulated the once-aimless Midi into joining the feud between the Queen’s and Senator’s factions. Pressured by the Sais family’s threats and favors, Midi’s father had reluctantly agreed, turning their count-ranked house into a disposable pawn in the political game—a fact Midi had naively missed.

Looking back, his past self seemed laughably foolish.

The nobility’s world was always cruel beneath its glittering surface, where losses were expected. But Fenrir’s family crossed into ruthlessness.

After Fina’s trial injury, the Sais family not only launched political assaults but pinned all blame on the Asreks, breaking every prior agreement.

And when the Delos Empire invaded, the self-proclaimed “voice of the people” betrayed instantly, surrendering the nation. Fenrir spearheaded the Empire’s brutality, crushing the Belmar Duchy’s people without mercy.

And among all this, Midi’s family suffered particularly severe persecution. Both his parents were executed, and the entire count’s territory was burned to the ground, leaving no survivors.

Even after Midi fled for years and finally established the Hawk Brigade to rebuild his life as an adventurer in Arad, Fenrir—who had already achieved his second awakening—kept ruthlessly suppressing him during large-scale conquest operations, even stabbing him in the back.

If pressed, Midi would say the deaths of Fina and Alice were partly linked to Fenrir’s meddling.

Was it because both women were Demon Swordmen, yet Midi had fortuitously gained a stronger demon god?

Or because Belmar’s most dazzling "flower of the highlands," the untouchable Queen of Magic, had chosen Midi instead?

Midi didn’t know whether Fenrir hated or envied him, but their blood feud was absolute. He knew in this life too, given the chance, this youth before him would still discard him as cannon fodder or crush him to dust without hesitation.

Hadn’t he already been used as cannon fodder?

A cold, self-mocking smile tugged at Midi’s lips.

In his past life, he’d rarely interacted with Fenrir at the academy. To avoid suspicion, Fenrir had deliberately ignored Fina’s team.

But now, with many eyes on the training ground, rumors of Midi passing the Flame Challenge had surely reached Fenrir. The heir’s sudden appearance likely stemmed from panic—the former pawn had become valuable. Fenrir aimed to unsettle Fina while recruiting Midi.

Yet how could Midi, who knew Fenrir’s ruthlessness, fall for this again?

*Perfect timing. I’ll use this to cut all ties with the Senator’s faction.* Midi strode forward.

"I heard someone passed the famously powerful Flame Challenge," Fenrir said smoothly, feigning composure. "Who knew it’d be *you*?"

"Your praise honors me, Lord Fenrir." Midi bowed with textbook noble manners.

"Such a feat deserves celebration. Come to the Elven Kingdom Hotel tonight—I’ll gather friends to toast you." Fenrir smirked, raising his voice pointedly. "Oh, and that girl you wanted? I’ll bring her too. Bored of her anyway—she’s yours."

This wasn’t an invitation but an order—a reminder to Fina that her team’s rising star belonged to him. Midi knew Fenrir would probe his secrets at the banquet.

A few words to sow discord and flaunt power. Typical Fenrir.

But Midi, reborn, had no patience for noble games. Memories of past suffering killed any desire to humor this. He shook his head. "I’ve no time or interest for your parties, Lord Fenrir."

Fenrir blinked, his polished noble smile freezing. As the Sais family’s chief heir, he was accustomed to groveling—even from true nobles. The Queen of Storms might defy him, but *Midi*? A mere count’s son whose territory neighbored the Sais duchy? He should’ve been a obedient vassal, the faction’s loyal spearhead.

Yet here the boy stood, disrespecting him openly. Fenrir’s handsome face twitched.

"You’re mad." Fenrir sneered, regaining his haughty tone. "To the Sais, you’re insignificant! Passing one challenge doesn’t make you special. I could destroy your family with a snap."

"If you want war, you’ll have it." Midi’s voice stayed flat, his gaze steady. This wasn’t rage—just cold calculation.

Personally and politically, their families were destined to clash. Delaying the inevitable while submitting to the Sais wouldn’t bring protection—only mounting losses. The Sais saw them as tools to exploit, not allies.

Better to sever ties now, shattering all invisible chains.

True, the count’s territory lay close to the Sais duchy, but not bordering it. Any military move would be complicated. With the academy trials ongoing, all duchy factions were on edge—even the Sais couldn’t act rashly, buying time.

If Midi endured this period, the Forest of Gran’s coming blaze would reveal his family lands’ hidden value.

So why wait? Let every shackle break now.