REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO-Chapter 111: MIRENA’S REGRET

Edward was guiding Mirena back to the summit—the same place where she had been waiting after arrival. As they stepped out from the cliff face, Zereth and his companion joined the group as well.

Once they arrived, Edward came to a stop and said. "Hold."

They all stopped.

Then he made a hand gesture and with it, Zereth stepped forward and removed the blindfold from Mirena’s eyes.

Light returned to her vision—and everything came flooding back.

By now, the evening mist had spread thick across the mountainside, casting a dim, shadowy hue over the landscape.

Breaking the silence, Edward said coldly, "Forget everything that happened here. Erase it from your memory. And if you ever dare to even think about telling someone..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

The meaning behind his words was sharp and clear. In a veiled sect like this, even hearing its name without permission meant death was the only way out.

"I won’t," Mirena replied quietly.

Edward’s gaze sharpened. "And everything you said earlier—let’s hope it was the truth. If we ever find out you lied, even once... the outcome won’t be pretty."

With that, he didn’t wait for a response.

He turned around and began walking away.

Zereth and his companion followed closely behind, their figures vanishing into the mist.

Mirena stood frozen. Her eyes were still locked in the direction they had gone.

She didn’t move for a long time.

And then—without warning—two heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.

She didn’t even wipe them away.

She had never faced humiliation like this.

Never tasted fear of death so closely.

She had been raised in a household where power and pride were absolute. She had been taught to look down on those beneath her—to treat them with contempt. And that’s exactly how she lived.

She was the daughter of a Duke. That alone was supposed to make her superior.

And yet...

Everything had crumbled.

In her mind, she had done nothing wrong. Her son—born of the noble blood from a duke’s family—was supposed to be the rightful heir. He was meant to lead House Smith. Not some commoner wife’s child. Not a "spot-filler."

So then why?

Why was she the one who kept losing?

Why had all her plans turned to dust?

Why had she been reduced to this?

She felt despair.

And along with it—a seething, burning hatred.

For Logan.

And for the Third Eye Sect.

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Logan was enjoying his shower in peace after the sparring session.

Steam had filled the bathroom, coating the walls with a light mist.

For the first time in last four days, it felt like a normal day.

Sure, he had a sparring match earlier—but unlike the others, this one wasn’t intense or serious.

Relishing the calm moment, Logan slowly finished his shower. He dried himself off and stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

But the moment he stepped out—

"Aahhh!"

A muffled shriek rang out.

Startled, Logan snapped his head toward the sound—only to see Daliah hurriedly turn around, her hands covering her eyes.

"Brother’s waiting for you in the common room!" she shouted in a flustered voice before bolting away like a startled cat.

It was obvious she was completely mortified.

Only then did Logan realize what had happened.

He had come into the room earlier and gone straight to the shower—without locking the door.

Daliah must have entered silently and stood there without making a sound, only to be caught off guard when he suddenly walked out in just a towel.

Logan didn’t even know how to react.

A wave of awkwardness hit him—half embarrassed, half stunned.

He shook his head to clear the moment away and turned toward the chair where a fresh set of clothes had been neatly laid out.

At least one thing was convenient—thanks to magic, getting dressed was never a hassle.

In this world, tailoring didn’t take hours.

With the right cloth, and a skilled mage who had both an air affinity and a tailor’s craftsmanship, a full set of clothes could be conjured in seconds with just a snap.

Logan slipped into the new outfit and got ready to head toward the common room.

But just as he stepped out of his room, ready to march confidently ahead, he paused—realizing he had no idea which direction to go.

He glanced around, planning to ask someone for directions.

But as he wandered forward, still looking around, he suddenly bumped into someone.

Looking up, he saw who it was.

Prince Elias.

"I’m extremely sorry, Your Highness," Logan said quickly, bowing respectfully.

"It’s alright," Elias replied with a gentle tone—polite, composed, and surprisingly soft. Nothing like the authoritative presence he had shown in their previous two meetings.

"So, where are you going all alone?" He asked.

"Oh, Prince Rowan asked me to come to the common room, but... I couldn’t quite find the way," Logan admitted.

"Don’t worry. Let me guide you," Elias offered kindly.

Logan hesitated. "I wouldn’t dare trouble you for something like this. I’ll just ask one of the servants. Please don’t trouble yourself."

After all, Elias was the Crown Prince—the eldest and next in line for the throne. And unlike with Rowan, Logan didn’t have a close relationship with him. In his past life, he had seen many heirs and kings who disliked even small breaches of etiquette.

But Elias smiled. "Don’t worry. I was heading to speak with Rowan anyway."

With that, he began walking ahead.

Seeing no other choice, Logan quietly followed behind.

They walked through softly lit corridors, the light floating gently in the still air.

After a few moments, they turned right and stopped in front of a door.

"This is the common room," Elias said, gently pushing the door open.

Logan followed him inside.

Inside the room—

Rowan and Daliah had been waiting for Logan.

As the door opened, Rowan stood up, expecting to greet Logan.

But then—Elias stepped in first.

The spark in Rowan’s expression faded instantly, leaving behind only a practiced, polite smile

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