Reborn As Noble-Chapter 623: The Divine’s Mark ( )

In the Halfling Kingdom.

Capital City — Halfling Royal Palace.

The throne room shook with a loud slam.

"WHAT did you just say!?"

King Gurdan roared, slamming his thick hand down on the carved stone armrest of his throne.

Veins bulged on his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot with fury.

A royal officer in ornate armor dropped to one knee, trembling.

"Y-Your Majesty... the reinforcement units sent to attack the dwarven capital..."

He hesitated.

"...they’re... missing."

Gurdan shot up from his throne, face twisted with anger.

"Missing!?"

The chamber was silent.

"We had no reports. No calls for help. Not even a flare.

So we sent scouts and intelligence officers.

We waited for days."

"But they... never came back."

A second officer stepped forward, grim-faced.

"We then sent another tracking unit. To follow their trail and confirm—"

"And!?" Gurdan roared again.

"...All we found were scorched craters on the ground... fragments of armor. Burned banners. Shattered weapons..."

Gurdan’s face shifted to one of horror and disbelief.

"You’re telling me we lost the entire division—120,000 strong—heading for the third dwarven stronghold..."

"...and another 100,000 heading toward the dwarven capital..."

He leaned forward, breathing ragged.

"...all of them... gone? Just like that!?"

The room fell into heavy silence.

Finally, a third general muttered, voice barely a whisper:

"...We suspect some unknown weapon or force... something far beyond what we’ve seen.

There was no resistance left to identify. Not even bodies—just... remnants."

Gurdan sat back down slowly.

Staring ahead.

His fists clenched.

His lips trembled.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!"

Gurdan rose again, teeth clenched, spit flying as he roared.

"I know this is Garius’s work!!"

He marched to the center of the throne room, armor rattling with every step.

"That bastard must’ve sent his special units...!

Those damned Armand freaks!

Just because they’re advanced—they think they can waltz into our war and interfere!?"

He punched a nearby column, cracking the stone.

"FUCK!!"

Then—

A whisper.

Hissing.

Cold, familiar, crawling like smoke inside his mind.

"Tch tch tch..."

"I told you."

"I told you Garius was a problem."

The voice slithered into his head.

"I remember that man... years ago... when he sealed me.

The only human I’ve ever feared."

The room spun slightly as Gurdan’s vision blurred, anger fighting a rising, choking pressure in his chest.

"...Y-yeah... of course I know," Gurdan muttered softly, voice low.

"...That fucking genius..."

He clenched his jaw.

"...He’s strong. Too strong."

The Celestial hissed again.

"He doesn’t act without a reason.

If he sent someone... that means he’s already five steps ahead."

"...And you, Gurdan..."

"...are already five steps behind."

Gurdan growled, trembling.

"...Don’t mock me..."

"Then prove me wrong," the voice whispered.

"Before everything you built turns to ash."

Gurdan clenched his teeth.

His fingers dug into the stone armrest of the throne.

Inside his mind,

a storm of thoughts raged.

How?

How the hell am I supposed to fight against a ghost?

I don’t even know who he sent...

He closed his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead.

Was it... Alf?

That shadow in human skin?

The one they called the Blade Without Sound.

The man who led Armand’s Shadow Corps.

Assassins so deadly that even royal guards didn’t see them coming until it was over.

The strongest assassin in the Human Kingdom...

Or was it...

"Hesbeirn..."

His eyes widened slightly.

The Black Knight. The Storm of Iron.

The commander of Armand’s frontline elite.

A man with the strength of ten warriors,

and a reputation soaked in enemy blood.

A berserker in human form,

whose armor was cursed to drink mana from the ground with every step.

Gurdan swallowed hard.

His chest tightened.

"Damn it..."

He slammed his fist against the throne again.

If only I knew which one Garius sent...

If only I knew WHO wiped out my 220,000 soldiers without even showing themselves!

He closed his eyes.

And whispered under his breath.

"...Or does Garius have new special units...?"

That thought cut through Gurdan’s mind like a blade.

His jaw tightened.

His breath trembled.

"That bastard... always has something in his hand..."

His fist clenched.

"I hate this man."

He rose to his feet with a roar that echoed through the stone hall.

"CALL OUR STRONGEST MAGES!"

"Now!!"

The chamber guards immediately snapped to attention.

"Y-Yes, my liege!"

They turned and sprinted out through the massive doors.

Gurdan paced back and forth, his heavy boots pounding the stone like thunder.

"I don’t care if they’re in meditation or half across the kingdom—drag them here if you must!"

The throne room was thick with dread.

Officers kept their heads low. No one dared speak.

Gurdan’s eyes burned with fury.

If Garius had created a new weapon... a new elite force...

Then this was no longer a war.

This was extermination.

And Gurdan had no intention of letting his kingdom be the next.

Gurdan spun sharply, his eyes locking onto a man standing silently near the side pillars.

"Kirim."

The figure straightened and stepped forward.

"Yes, my liege?"

Kirim’s voice was calm—almost playful, with a teasing tone that only made Gurdan angrier.

But he tolerated it.

Because Kirim always delivered.

"What about that?" Gurdan asked, his voice low and deliberate.

The words hung heavy in the air.

Everyone in the room knew what he meant—

but no one dared say it aloud.

Kirim’s lips curled slightly, his hands folded behind his back.

"Soon," he said smoothly.

"They will be ready, my liege."

Gurdan narrowed his eyes.

"How long?"

Kirim stepped a few paces closer, eyes flickering under the pale torchlight.

"They’ve reached their final adjustments,"

"And... we’ve secured the artifacts needed for them to operate at full capacity."

"You’ll have your answer..."

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper:

"...when the sky burns red."

Gurdan grunted, his breath heavy.

He didn’t like relying on unstable elements.

But if this weapon worked...

if this experiment succeeded...

Even Garius would have to flinch.

"Good," Gurdan said at last.

"Then get them ready."

"I want fire... the kind even Armand can’t ignore."

"My liege," Kirim said softly, eyes gleaming like a serpent’s.

"If I may..."

Gurdan grunted.

"What?"

Kirim smiled—too calm, too composed.

"I need your blood."

The room fell silent again.

Even the Celestial inside Gurdan stirred.

"...For what?" Gurdan asked, narrowing his eyes.

Kirim’s tone didn’t waver.

"Final enhancement."

He stepped closer, his voice low, filled with both reverence and menace.

"The Celestial power in you... combined with your royal blood... will complete the last stage."

"They will become stronger. Faster. Unshakable."

"Never tired. Never disobedient."

"They will carry a piece of you... and a fragment of the divine."

Gurdan clenched his fists.

He didn’t like the sound of that.

Not because he was afraid of pain.

But because he hated the idea of being used, even by his own allies.

The Celestial in his mind whispered:

"He’s playing with dangerous fire... but it might be the only fire that can burn Garius."

Gurdan exhaled sharply through his nose.

"How much?"

Kirim smiled wider.

"Just a vial, my liege. Enough to awaken the divine resonance."

( End Of Chapter )

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