I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

 

The spare

 

“What are you doing…? Get help!!” I shouted as I checked my uncle's shallow breath. ”

“I said,” Gregory brandished his sword, “Move aside, boy.”

Alan slapped the sword away. “He is our lord; give him respect! Sorry, milord but this needs doing. Move along and let us do our job.”

“Whose orders!? Mother's?!”

Tim laughed, “Lands above, no. We have a partner you're very familiar with. Flashy man, shaved head like his barbarian people.”

Fjord…?

“We have come to an understanding you, see? We can as well. With this bastard out of the way, the fall of your brother is soon enough. Imagine how proud your mother would be.”

Alan wagged his sword. “Please, milord. Don't do something you’ll regret.”

I looked at my uncle, hunched on the table, his nose and mouth dribbling blood.

Easy choice.

I pulled my Rapier, gifted to me by my brother. I waved its point at two fifth circles and a sixth. My three circles whirred in my chest.

“Regret? I would rather die with a blade in my hand than work with you scoundrels.”

I need to get help.

Mana burst from Alan. Before I could notice, a hand held my neck. I dangled off the ground and attempted to slash at the sixth circle. Two fingers grabbed the rapier's edge and threw away the weapon.

“You always did piss me off.” Alan choked harder. “Always got the best whores. Lazying around as you get our coin.” The knight slammed me on the table beside my uncle.

“What about this, men? He slipped on some spilt ale and bashed his head. Don’t worry, Milord. You’ll only be out for a few hours.”

A hand grabbed Alan's forearm. Good excuse.” a hoarse voice said.

The knight's sleeve crinkled and cracked. Uncle squeezed, and an arm shattered into shards of blood, muscle, and bone.

Alan ran backwards, screaming and holding his shattered arm. “Get him!!”

Two fifth circles slash at the sickly man with swords flowing with mana. A wave of the old greystone hand and two icicles shot out from the air to stab Gregory's knees. From his sheath, Uncle Laron decapitated the kneeling knight. “I liked your stories.”

Uncle’s long sword blocked a strike from his left. His freehand aimed and ice tunnelled through Tim. “You were kind of funny.”

A corpse fell and a tornado hit a barrier of ice. A subtle push fired the block of ice at the one-armed knight, forcing him into the wall with a thud. Off the wall, the knight kneeled with shards hovering above him. The old knight exhaled as he accepted his death.

“Why…” Uncle asked.

Alan smiled. “After so many battles, I wished for a good life.”

“Idiot…” Uncle mumbled. Shards rained on Uncle’s friend. I cringed away from the sight and the nightmare-inducing cries. The noise ended and my uncle stumbled again. I slipped under his arm to hold him up.

“My meridians, my circles...” Uncle coughed blood. “I will have to thank Tarion. That mobile whatsitcalled is pretty useful.”

He kept watching my training…

The door slammed open and an exhausted woman clothed in bloody dark robes ran to us, carrying a large sword. Tarion’s sword. Before I could react, she removed her hood.

“The headmaid?”

“My lords. His Grace needs your help.” She said, struggling for breath

Brother? In danger? Is that even possible? We need to go. But uncle...

Uncle rose from my shoulder.

“Where the fuck is he?”

The Reincarnator

Heated stone and gravel fell from the sky. The street was poked with holes a metre deep. A cloud of earth and dust flowed and bobbed in the gentle wind and a little gust revealed a figure standing in the ruins of the road.

The figure walked forward, stepping out of the crater. His dark clothes burned, and his power blew away his burning hood. The horn, surprised that fourth circle still stood, took a step back, gathering flames around him. He felt he shouldn't be scared. A fourth or a first, it was all then same to a sixth circle of the golden grade.

Tarion stepped forward with his body burnt, skin peeling, and red.

The Duke’s murderous glare sent shivers through the manager. A fireball grew to the size of a football and the sphere swirled brightly in his palm as he pitched. The duke was hit squarely and a hand wave cleared the fire and smoke.

Uncle…Dead?

The chest of the burned man raged. Circles spun out of control. A cloud of blue billowed from his ripped clothes and the injured man lifted his finger to press the air.

“Gotta give it to you, noble, Fucking ama-”

A mana-covered knife marked Fjord’s neck. Instinct saved the horn by instantly forming armour of blue and the dagger broke. “Have to do better-”

Fingers glowed and jabbed at his eyes.

“ARHHGGH!!” Holding his eyes with his right the horn’s left fist reflexively backfist the noble with flaming knuckles into a nearby building.

Kill

A pulse of blue energy blew away wreckage and Tarion walked forward with a finger in the air like a madman.

The horn shook his head as he regained his sight. “Come on! You started this war! Hundreds are dying but an old man passes and you can't handle it?”

The air became still and The horn went low with dread. His brow was wet with sweat as he watched scarlet eyes glow in the shadow of the ruins. Three arrows of flame spun into form and shot out immediately. Heat and explosions destroyed the two-story building and leaving nothing to chance, Fjord shot out two more.

Tarion stepped forward with his clothes in tatters. Out of the wreckage and into the street, a blue light towered to the heavens. Long black hair rippled, submerged in blue mana. Red eyes glowed. The horn knew if he were to escape safely the man must die.

Flames aiding his speed, the brothel owner charged with fire imbued fist and pulled back. Right straight careened for Tarion's head.

The injured man vanished, leaving a hole in the atmosphere.

Propelled by jets of mana repulsion from his back, Tarion struck the horn’s face with his left raging with mana. Armour of blue blocked and shattered, dividing the two. Eyebrow bleeding, the shaved-headed man slammed down on the duke's head. Tarion lifted his head back up, blood leaked down his hair, and his stare was cold.

A fist charged with mana bent the large man and an elbow cut the face of the slaver. A scream echoed as the red light district watched. Tarion's left hand formed a blade with rushing mana and slashed at the neck of the hurting Fjord. The horn backhand met the saw and the wind rushed out of the way. Fjord’s southpaw left his bleeding face to jab. Nose crushed, Tarion’s face bounced off metal rings. Like a branch in the breeze, Tarion leaned back, weaving from the second jab and landing right straight. A right uppercut of flame cracked the duke’s jaw. His charred boots left the ground for a second before a left hook brought the young man down. A right hook to the body was caught. Left-hand burning, Tarion’s right fist flicked to the horn’s face, messing Fjord's new scar more. The duke shot out mana from a kick to the large man's knee and the unbalanced pimp was showered in a barage of punches.

“Enough!” A hand-raised, fire burst outward, blowing away the unsuspecting noble. Spinning and crashing through several buildings, the gangster fired more balls for fire.

From a burning home, Duke crawled out covered in soot, his eyes mad with grief. A kick to the face sprayed the noble’s blood on the floor.

“This is your fault.”

A kick to the stomach and Tarion vomited blood.

“Should've given in!” Fjord went low and pummelled the Duke. His fist painted more red the more he struck. His smile crept to his ears with every punch.

“Thought you could mess with my Mouve and leave alive!?! Destroy what I’ve worked years to build!?” The pimp’s punches hit heavy. His bald head, sweating, glee filled his eyes.

“The duke thinks this is a game?! You wade in waters too treacherous for you.”

Every strike was more satisfying than any whore he had bedded.

“I’ve got to say.”

Fjord hit the struggling noble.

“You fella have the worst luck.”

Fjord patted away a reaching arm and struck again.

“Mama died. The new mother hates ya. You become useless.”
The horn hit again, and blood squirted.

“Father dies too. You finally get better, and-”

Fjord punched three times, and blood dripped on the duke's face from the long cut on the horn’s face.

“AHAHA.”

Fjord punched.

“Let's hope your brother ain't as foolish as you or the glorious bloodline might end in a single day.

Fjord huffed over Tarion. Arm wound back, flame swallowed his fist for one last punch

“Maybe I’ll get with that bitch you hold so dear. Bring her back to my home. Is she as good in bed as her mother?”

 

Plonk.

Four circles spun until they fissured and cracked.

Plonk.

Plonk.

 

A younger heir

 

A midday sun shone from above and I recognised a figure bent over me. His face full of anger and distress, he called for help.

“A DOCTOR, PRIEST, A MAGE, BRING ANYONE!” He turned back to me, threading his fingers down my hair. "Son, it's going to be okay. It's over. The pain will end.” Tears filled his eyes. I feel blood on my mouth, an ache my young body can barely take, and the stare of the witch. My brother looked on from afar in her arms. His smiling mouth whispers comforting words to the new red headed heir.

I looked back at my father's kind eyes that my brother shared. Duller than I remembered.

The Duke.

Plonk.

 

I regained my reason. My palm stopped a punch and Fjord's limb was flung aside. The surprised pimp’s chest concaved as mysterious black energy burst from my knuckle. Pushing him through two ceilings, fire from the pimp's back paused him in the air. Bloody and pained, both palms touch the floor, exploding in black mana under me. Jetting through the holes Fjord made, I flew out into the night to meet him above the rooftops. He waited with spinning arrows flying at speed to burn me. My right hand straightened into a knife shape and I slashed. Black crescents destroyed the flames and I thrust through the sky. Fjord growled in annoyance, with fire moving him through the air to me for a clash of fists. I weaved to the left, evading a right straight. A right kick armoured with black mana snapped into the side of the horn’s temple. The air shuddered from my power. I weaved from a left burning with fervour and I grabbed the horn's face. Mana repelled off my back to carry him down. Other worldly energy charged my muscles and I threw the horn into the gravel road. Gravel and stone parted as a crater formed. From the air, I burst forward for a wide left strike and fire manoeuvred the bald man away from danger.

“YOUR GRACE!”

A friendly voice alerted me and I realised we were back in the middle of battle. I turned to the left and my captain fought with my ravens and several fighters by his side. Their garments are those not of guards but of peasants. Jimmy also fought among the crowd, with Alpha, Beta, and Gamma moving in his direction.

A circleless woman, bruised and tired, directed the commoners with stern instruction. She caught me at the corner of her eyes and with a smile, she mouthed. “My people.”

But no Beatrice.

“SWORD.”

“YES, YOUR GRACE.”

Picked from the ground, the bodyguard chucked a double-edged blade. The sword caught in my hand, black miasma slithered over my new weapon. I looked at this new energy, feeling the rush that battle high can never compare to.

Not a true black. A red, darker than dried blood.

I looked up at the horn getting his own weapon from his hired men. A Warhammer.

“Osberg Guard.”

“YES, YOUR GRACE.” They shout.

“CORDON THE AREA. LET NO MERCENARY, NO MAN OF THE HORN ESCAPE THE MOUVE ALIVE.”

No more half-measures.

Mobile mediation flowed the current of new energy and mana gushed out of the blade to form the long blade I am acquainted with.

I pointed the black greatsword at the panicked enemy.

“I will do as promised. It will end. TODAY.”

I saw terror twist his face as he slowly retreated backwards.

“Where’s Sebastion!?”

The ugly jester glided down with less mirth and an injured shoulder.

“Bring the bloody priest. And you lot. EARN YOUR PAYROLL! ATTACK HIM!” Holding his hand to his scar, the horn limped away as his goons abandoned the attack on the red-light district locals to bombard me.

My dark sword struck up. And a mana slice cut up the ground and three first circles.

The sword feels too light.

A horizontal slash divided five first circles and higher circles jump over the black wave. A warrior of third slashed down. I turned sideways and the mana blade missed me. A man thrust and his brain exploded on the road. I duck under a gangster of second and my black blade sliced through mana armour like cheese.

Feels off balance.

A parry to the left and a short slash to the neck killed. A kick back and to the right destroyed organs. I leaned back, flinging out a mana slice and the hornman died. I guarded an attack to my knee with an obsidian blade and my head with an obsidian-covered arm. I twisted their weapons away to shoot black mana at both enemies. I lift my blade to guard against an enemy and they fall with icicles sticking from their back.

Tears fell as I searched around untill I found a carriage with a long-haired geezer grinning next to a maid robed in stealth black. Near him, a young Greystone’s eyes darted around the battlefield, his eyes wide with interest and his rapier out. I wiped tears away, feeling relief beyond what I thought was possible.

“Sorry, I am late.” Uncle smiled and coughed into his hand. I studied his skin and eyes, which appeared sickly.

Kuwei?

“I will get this settled. Knights, eliminate threats to His Grace.”

“Yes, Milord!” On horseback, knights of gleaming armour join the Osberg Guard, slicing the hundreds on their steeds.

Uncle continues coughing as he creates metre-long shards to piece the mercenaries.

A raven kneeled, and orange lantern light reflected off my family's prized possession she offered.

“Well done, Beatrice.” throwing the short blade away, I grasped on the greatsword's hilt. Feeling its perfect weight and balance, I swing it around with the sounds of death around me.

“Where is-”

“Fallen.”

“Ah…”

Failure, all around.

Plonk.

“Your Grace!” Bieye walked out of the chaos with Kurt by her side. “He hides at Black Shade. through the tunnels under the brothel.”

I rested the sword of Osberg on my shoulder.

“Lead the way.”