The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 182: Northbound

The White Lion griffon pens bustled with activity as handlers prepared the beasts for the long journey north. Massive wings stretched and powerful talons scraped against stone floors as thirty-five elite fighters from Teams 55 and 27 gathered their mounts and supplies.

Klaus stood beside his assigned griffon—a battle-hardened male with iron-gray feathers and keen golden eyes. He methodically checked his equipment one final time: cold-weather gear, emergency rations, basic medical supplies, and his standard-issue sword strapped securely to his hip.

Alexandra approached, leading her own griffon—a sleeker female with russet plumage. Her eyes fell to the sword at his side, then narrowed slightly.

"That's not your ceremonial sword," she observed. "I thought everyone who participated in the sword selection ceremony brought their chosen blade on real missions."

Klaus's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his standard-issue White Lion sword. "It's being maintained," he replied simply.

Alexandra leaned closer, lowering her voice. "The Founding Ancestor's blade? I've heard the stories—no one had been able to draw it for generations until you." There was a mixture of awe and suspicion in her tone. "Seems odd to leave such a powerful weapon behind on your first major mission."

Klaus met her gaze evenly. "Every sword has its purpose. For this mission, I prefer something... less conspicuous."

The truth was more complicated. The Founding Ancestor's sword was inextricably linked to Greed, and with that connection weakened, Klaus preferred not to rely on a weapon that might not respond as expected during a critical moment. Better the reliable White Lion blade than a legendary one with unpredictable power.

"If you say so," Alexandra replied, clearly unsatisfied with his explanation but unwilling to press further.

Commander Leone's voice cut through the bustle of preparation. "Mount up! We depart in five minutes!"

Team 27's members mounted their griffons with practiced efficiency, their movements reflecting years of experience with the beasts. Team 55's fighters, though less seasoned, followed Klaus's lead. In the weeks since joining White Lion, he had insisted on regular griffon-riding drills, anticipating missions exactly like this one.

As they prepared to launch, Juron maneuvered his large griffon alongside Klaus's. "Team 27 is watching us like hawks," he muttered. "Waiting for any mistake."

"Then we give them nothing to see," Klaus replied. With a subtle gesture, he signaled Team 55 to form up in the precise flying formation they had practiced—a modified wedge that maximized visibility while minimizing wind resistance.

Commander Leone noticed the formation and gave Klaus a grudging nod of approval before leading his own team into position.

With a series of powerful wingbeats, the thirty-five griffons launched skyward, climbing rapidly above the White Lion fortress. Below them, the sprawling structure diminished into a miniature model of stone and steel, soon lost among the jagged landscape of the northern Rikxia Empire.

Klaus took the lead position, guiding his griffon with subtle pressure from his knees. The great beast responded intuitively, having recognized Klaus's authority from their first interaction. Behind him, Team 55 maintained their formation with remarkable precision, while Team 27 arranged themselves in a looser pattern to their flanks and rear.

"Three days to Northwatch if the weather holds," Commander Leone called from his position nearby. "We'll need to make camp each night. The griffons can't fly in darkness over unfamiliar terrain."

Klaus nodded in acknowledgment. The journey would take them over increasingly hostile territory, where rifts appeared with greater frequency the further north they traveled. The Eternal Rift's influence seemed to spawn smaller tears in reality throughout the surrounding region.

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They flew in silence for several hours, the landscape gradually changing beneath them from rolling hills to sparse forests and finally to the beginning of the frost-touched northern plains. The air grew noticeably colder, and Klaus signaled his team to don their weather protection.

It was mid-afternoon when Alexandra suddenly called out, "Rift activity, two o'clock!"

All eyes turned to the right horizon, where a telltale shimmer of crimson energy pulsed against the sky. A Red Rift—the weakest classification, but still dangerous if left unchecked.

"Standard procedure would be to report and continue," Commander Leone stated. "We're not a containment unit."

Klaus studied the rift carefully. Its position directly intersected their planned route, and its pulsing suggested recent formation—likely less than an hour old. Already, shadowy forms could be seen emerging from its depths—low-level monsters that would threaten nearby settlements if left unchallenged.

"We can handle it," Klaus decided. "A small team. Five minutes to close it, then we continue."

Leone frowned. "This isn't what—"

"Our mission parameters include ensuring safe passage," Klaus interrupted calmly. "This rift blocks our path. We close it and move on."

Without waiting for further discussion, Klaus signaled to Alexandra, Juron, and two other Team 55 members to follow him. They peeled away from the main formation, angling their griffons toward the pulsing rift.

As they approached, the nature of the emerging creatures became clear—Shadow Hounds, their bodies composed of writhing darkness, eyes burning with malevolent crimson light. A dozen had already emerged, with more visible within the rift's shimmering tear.

Klaus directed his griffon into a steep dive, drawing his sword as the beast's powerful wings carried him directly toward the largest concentration of Shadow Hounds. Behind him, his team members followed in perfect sequence—Alexandra to his right, Juron to his left, the others filling the gaps in their attack pattern.

The creatures looked up too late as five griffons descended upon them like divine judgment. Klaus struck first, his blade cleaving through two Shadow Hounds in a single sweep. As the creatures dissolved into shadow, he felt the familiar rush of power—subtle system notifications in his mind registering the stat increases from the kills. Not substantial from such low-level monsters, but every increment mattered.

Alexandra's rapier flashed with cyan energy as she impaled a third hound, while Juron's heavier blade crushed two more against the frozen ground. The remaining Team 55 members dispatched their targets with similar efficiency.

But the true challenge was the rift itself. While the others contained the remaining creatures, Klaus guided his griffon to hover directly before the crimson tear in reality. Unlike most of his teammates, who could only fight the symptoms, Klaus understood the cause.

With practiced precision, he channeled arcane energy into his blade, the steel taking on a dark sheen as though absorbing the light around it. He made a single, decisive slash through the center of the rift.

The dimensional tear shuddered as Klaus's arcane-infused strike cut through its very fabric. The crimson energy contorted, struggling against the intrusion of his power, before finally collapsing inward. With a final flash, the rift sealed completely, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air that quickly faded.

The entire process took mere seconds—efficient and controlled.

The entire operation had taken less than four minutes.

As they rejoined the main formation, Klaus noted the surprised expressions on Team 27's faces. Even Commander Leone seemed momentarily lost for words.

"Efficient," the commander finally remarked. "Where did you learn that sealing technique?"

"White Lion archives," Klaus lied smoothly. "I make it a point to study all available resources."

Leone's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Let's continue. We've lost enough time."

As they resumed their journey northward, Alexandra maneuvered her griffon alongside Klaus's. "That wasn't standard White Lion technique," she said quietly. "I've never seen a rift close that cleanly. That was something else."

Klaus met her gaze impassively. "Results matter. The rift is closed."

She studied him for a long moment. "You know, for someone who claims to prefer being inconspicuous, you certainly have a way of drawing attention."

Klaus didn't reply. The small skirmish had been necessary—not just to clear their path, but to establish Team 55's competence in the field. Commander Leone and his team needed to see that their leadership hadn't been assigned arbitrarily.

As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Klaus signaled for the formation to begin looking for a suitable campsite. The real journey had barely begun, and already he sensed the complex dynamics at play—not just between the two teams, but within the very fabric of reality as they flew ever closer to the Eternal Rift.

That night, as Team 55 and Team 27 established their separate camps on a sheltered plateau, Klaus stood alone at the edge, gazing northward. In the far distance, barely visible against the night sky, a faint pulsing glow marked their destination.

Northwatch.

And beyond it, the Eternal Rift—a wound in the world that had never healed.

Klaus glanced down at the ring on his finger, the last remnant of his connection to Greed. He sent a small pulse of arcane energy through it, feeling the familiar resistance. The connection remained frustratingly weak, a muted echo of what it once was.

"I could use your insight now," he thought, not expecting a response.

As he turned back toward camp, a cold northern wind swept across the plateau, carrying with it the faint scent of frost and something else—something ancient and wrong. Klaus paused, his senses suddenly alert.

For the briefest moment, he thought he felt something stir within the ring—not Greed's presence, but a warning. Then it was gone, leaving only the howling wind and the distant, ominous glow of Northwatch.