The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 140: Breaking the Trial: Nicholas Davoss

The captains’ observation room hummed with quiet anticipation as the trial unfolded. The wide, circular chamber was perched high above the sprawling coliseum, its massive arched windows framed by ornate carvings of past victories and great battles. Beyond the coliseum stretched a dense, unbroken forest, a sea of emerald green that seemed to swallow the horizon. In the distance, jagged mountain peaks loomed, their shadows casting long fingers over the landscape.

Despite the breathtaking view, the room’s vantage point offered no direct insight into the trial itself. Only the first checkpoint at the forest’s edge and the exit at the mountain’s base were visible, like two distant beacons marking the start and end of an unforgiving journey. Between those points, the trainees were left entirely to their own devices, their progress hidden from view.

This deliberate lack of visibility was by design. The captains had chosen it as a means of detachment, a reminder that the trial was not about oversight or intervention. It was a crucible—crafted not to test skill, but to forge humility and resilience. Every element of the trial, from the magical constraints to the grueling terrain, was engineered to challenge the most gifted: Klaus Lionhart, Alex Lionhart, and Nicholas Davoss. These prodigies, hailed as the brightest stars of their generation, had been set against an impossible task. Not one of them was expected to succeed, nor were they meant to.

The captains, seated in their high-backed chairs or leaning against the room’s railings, had agreed on the necessity of this lesson. The prodigies needed to taste failure—not as punishment, but as preparation. Their potential was undeniable, but potential without humility could be a dangerous thing. It was a hard truth the captains had learned in their own grueling journeys to leadership.

Captain Victor, a towering man whose presence seemed to dominate the room, leaned against the railing with his arms crossed. His scar, a jagged line running the length of his jaw, seemed to accentuate the weight of his words. "Klaus is strong, no doubt about it. But he’s never faced something he couldn’t overcome. This will teach him to respect the process."

Captain Estelle, standing to Victor’s right, exuded a quiet authority. Her sharp green eyes glimmered with insight as she responded, her tone measured. "The same goes for Alex. A proud heir of the Lionhart family needs to understand that lineage alone isn’t enough. Pride can be a double-edged sword."

Captain Marcus, the youngest of the trio but no less sharp, smirked as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the ornate oak table. "And the Davoss kid? He’s frighteningly talented and strong for his age, no doubt about that. But more than his strength, I can tell he’s clever. Cleverness, however, won’t save him here. The runes are designed to drain their energy faster the stronger they are—calibrated perfectly to bring even the mightiest to their knees."

Estelle chuckled softly, her voice tinged with both amusement and respect. "It’s not about breaking them. It’s about shaping them. When they join us, they’ll know what it means to truly earn their place."

Victor’s gaze shifted to the glowing glyphs marking the start of the trial. Their light flickered rhythmically, pulsing like a heartbeat, signaling the trial’s relentless, unyielding magic. He straightened slightly, his expression unreadable. "Let’s see how long they last."

***

Nicholas Davoss, having lived through eight lifetimes, carried with him the accumulated weight of knowledge, triumphs, and failures—a burden only he could bear. Among his many mastered disciplines, the Rune Arts stood as a crowning achievement. To him, the glowing runes etched onto the enchanted bracelets binding his wrists were laughably rudimentary. Their design, though intricate to the untrained eye, was simple, even childish. Within moments, he had already deduced how to manipulate them.

From the start, Nicholas had no intention of playing by the rules. This wasn’t arrogance or a misplaced sense of superiority—it was survival. This was his final life, the last chance to set things right, and failure wasn’t an option. Not this time.

The moment he saw the runes marking the second and then the third checkpoint, he understood the captains’ intent. The trial wasn’t a test to pass; it was a lesson designed to humble him, Alex Lionhart, and Klaus Lionhart. A deliberate attempt to break their pride—or perhaps to break them entirely. But Nicholas Davoss had endured too much, suffered too greatly, to be humiliated like some wayward child. If the trial was meant to shatter him, he would shatter the trial first.

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As the trio approached the fourth checkpoint, a towering obelisk pulsating with glowing runes, Nicholas hung back. He watched in silence as Alex stepped forward first, pressing his palm against the obelisk. Alex’s face twisted in pain, his knees buckling under the rune’s relentless pull on his strength. Klaus followed, his body trembling but his resolve unyielding, his eyes burning with quiet determination even as the obelisk sapped his vitality.

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Nicholas observed them with a calculating gaze, his sharp mind dissecting every flicker of energy emanating from the runes. When his turn came, he stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Placing his hand on the obelisk, he felt the energy pulling at him, but unlike the others, Nicholas had already altered the runes on his bracelet. The effect on him was negligible, a mere whisper of resistance against an unbreakable fortress of will and knowledge.

The air shifted around him. Both Alex and Klaus turned to him, their weakened bodies barely able to stand, their eyes filled with confusion and unspoken questions. They could feel it—Nicholas was unaffected. The runes’ power, which had brought them to their knees, seemed powerless against him. Their gazes locked onto him, silently demanding answers he had no intention of providing.

Nicholas’s cold red eyes lingered on Klaus, his expression as enigmatic as ever. Without a word, he stepped past him, the faint echo of his boots crunching against the forest floor.

"Klaus Lionhart," Nicholas murmured to himself, his voice barely audible, more a thought than a statement.

To Nicholas, Klaus was an anomaly. In all eight of his previous lives, Klaus Lionhart had never existed. His presence disrupted everything. Klaus’s meteoric rise—becoming the youngest Swordmaster in recorded history—defied logic. It was as if Klaus was rewriting the rules of the world itself. This enraged Nicholas. Klaus wasn’t just a powerful adversary; he was a wild card, a variable Nicholas hadn’t accounted for. His existence threatened the delicate web of plans Nicholas had spent lifetimes weaving to save their world: Xyros.

As his gaze shifted to Alex, a shadow of resentment flickered across his face. It was fleeting, but undeniable. In his eighth life, Alex had been the one to end him, though Nicholas knew the true culprit was the Arkdieu Pride. Even so, the memory still stung.

He stopped abruptly, turning back to face them. His voice, cold and calm, cut through the tense silence like a blade.

"The fourth checkpoint divides your already weakened strength by four," he began, his tone devoid of sympathy. "If you somehow manage the willpower to reach the fifth, whatever strength remains will be divided by five. And so on."

Alex’s heart sank at his words, the weight of the trial’s design pressing down on him like an iron shackle. Klaus, however, simply stared at Nicholas with an impassive expression. As Nicholas spoke, Klaus quietly used magic to ease the pain in his strained muscles, his calm demeanor hiding his effort.

"This trial wasn’t meant for us to pass," Nicholas continued, his red eyes gleaming faintly with energy. "They want us crawling by the end—or worse. Perhaps it’s a test of humility, or perhaps it’s something else entirely. Either way, I have no intention of giving them what they want."

Nicholas paused, a mocking smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And since this is a competition, I won’t be helping you. Not that I ever intended to."

Alex mustered what little strength he had to speak, his voice cracked and weak. "Why… why aren’t you affected by the runes?"

Nicholas’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Do you think you’re the only one with secrets? Or did you imagine you were special?"

Alex’s lips parted as if to reply, but before he could finish his thought, Nicholas cut him off, his voice laced with venom. "No. I’m not like you."

His gaze flicked to Klaus, lingering for a moment as if weighing an unspoken question. Was Klaus also an Apostle like Alex? The thought crossed his mind but was quickly dismissed. Klaus’s power, though extraordinary, felt different.

"I’ve wasted enough time observing," Nicholas declared, his voice firm and resolute. A faint aura began to shimmer around him, a testament to the strength he had kept hidden. "From this moment on, I act."

With that, Nicholas turned, channeling aura into his legs. In an instant, he vanished into the forest, leaving Alex and Klaus behind.

Klaus watched him go, his expression unreadable. Yet, as he stared at the place where Nicholas had disappeared, a single thought echoed in his mind:

Nicholas Davoss, just what are you?