Reborn As Noble - Chapter 317

Chapter 317: Desire and Cruelty ( 317 )
In the Amazarak Kingdom, deep within the grand warrior city, a massive arena stood tall.

From her royal seat, Queen Zephyra watched intently.

Below her, in the center of the coliseum, a lone figure moved.

Kenjirou.

The human hero.

His left hand was still missing, but his right hand gripped a sword tightly.

His movements were slower than before, unbalanced. Yet, there was no hesitation in his strikes.

The Queen leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she watched him with great interest.

Her eyes traced every motion, every shift in his stance.

“Hmm…”

Zephyra smirked slightly, whispering to herself.

“So this is the ‘hero’ the goddess blessed…?”

Her sharp eyes gleamed as she studied him further.

His posture was flawed. His strength, cut in half. But his eyes…

His eyes burned with something primal.

Hatred.

Vengeance.

A wounded beast forced into a corner.

“Interesting…”

She watched as Kenjirou pushed himself, sweat dripping from his brow.

His breath was ragged, but he refused to stop.

Zephyra’s smirk widened.

Kenjirou swung his sword, again and again.

His body was battered, weakened. His left hand—gone.

But none of that mattered.

Pain? Irrelevant.

Exhaustion? Meaningless.

Fear? No longer existed.

Because inside his mind, there was only one thing.

Hatred.

“I’ll kill them…”

His muttered words barely escaped his lips as his blade tore through the empty air.

“I’ll kill them all.”

His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white, his breath heavy and ragged.

Saint of Three Gods…

He would ensure their will was absolute.

The Armand family. The Armand region.

They will bow.

Or they will burn.

He didn’t care what it took.

He would surpass Marcellus.

He would outmatch Cedric.

He would crush every last one of them.

But above all…

“Javier…”

The name tasted like poison.

That worthless, arrogant noble brat.

Kenjirou’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as his mind spiraled further into his twisted thoughts.

He humiliated me. He broke me.

But I’ll show him.

He didn’t care what price he had to pay.

Demon magic.

Cursed weapons.

Forbidden arts.

Even if he had to sell his soul, he would do it.

“Javier…”

“I’ll kill you with my own hands.”

Queen Zephyra smiled, her eyes gleaming as she watched Kenjirou.

She could see it.

The pure, unfiltered hatred burning in his eyes.

And she welcomed it.

According to his story…

The Armand family rejected the faith of the Saint of Three Gods.

They burned villages and slaughtered the faithful.

Count Garius himself led the execution of innocent believers.

When the summoned heroes arrived in peace, bringing divine guidance, the Count’s son—Javier—murdered them in cold blood.

The heroes had done nothing but try to spread the faith… and for that, they were massacred.

A tragedy. A betrayal. An unforgivable crime.

And Zephyra believed every word.

She already hated Armand.

They spoiled the market, disrupting trade with their cheap and affordable goods.

Their self-sufficient economy crippled Amazarak’s ability to profit from exports.

Armand’s technological advancements, though hoarded, still leaked enough to destabilize existing markets.

The Beastkin and Demon Kingdoms maintained strong trade with Armand, ignoring Amazarak’s offers.

Even the Elves had begun favoring Armand over other territories.

And worst of all… Armand’s rise had challenged the balance of power in the world.

Zephyra gritted her teeth slightly.

A mere Count’s region… disrupting entire world.

How dare they?

Her eyes returned to Kenjirou, who continued swinging his sword with unrelenting rage.

She leaned back, her smirk deepening.

“A hero burning with hatred… how perfect.”

Perhaps this boy was the key.

The key to destroying Armand.

She would mold him.

She would use him.

And when the time was right…

She would make Armand regret ever existing.

“Just you wait, Garius…”

“Soon, I will crush your region.”

Her fingernails tapped lightly against the armrest of her throne.

“Then, I will tear apart your precious kingdom…”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression darkening.

“And after that… the Demon Kingdom will fall next.”

She closed her eyes, savoring the thought.

A world where only the strong ruled.

Amazarak would rise.

And she would reign supreme.

“All I need to do… is wait.”

Zephyra ran a finger along her lips, deep in thought.

This human was already broken, but to make him truly hers… he needed power.

Not just any power.

Forbidden power.

She already had the perfect tool in mind.

A creation of Amazarak’s deepest secrets—crafted from ancient, forbidden arts.

A prosthetic, but not just any prosthetic.

A living arm, forged from cursed metal and infused with Amazanian war magic.

Black veins of enchanted gold would weave through it, glowing with tribal-like patterns that pulsed with power.

Once attached, it would feel like his real arm—warm, responsive, seamless.

But what he wouldn’t know…

Zephyra’s smile widened.

This was no mere artificial limb.

It was a shackle.

The moment the arm fused to his body, it would bind him to her will.

His strength would surge, surpassing what he once was—but at a cost.

The tattoo-like markings? They weren’t just for decoration. They were the Queen’s seal.

The more he used its power, the deeper her control over his mind and soul would become.

Until eventually…

He would belong to her.

“Oh, Kenjirou…”

She stood, looking down at the struggling human below.

“You will train harder than you ever have before.”

Her gaze darkened, desire and cruelty intertwining.

“You will learn to wield the gift I bestow upon you.”

She placed a hand over her heart, smirking.

“And when the time comes… you will be mine.

Not just in body.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper now, but heavy with certainty.

“But in soul.”

He was still weak. Still incomplete. But once she molded him… once he submitted entirely…

She wondered.

How strong would their child be?

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk.

After all, she had never married. Never found a man worthy of sharing her throne.

The Amazarak people worshipped strength above all else. A Queen did not take a husband—she took a mate worthy enough to father a powerful heir.

Kenjirou… he had potential.

Once he truly submitted—body, mind, and soul—he would be hers.

And their offspring?

A warrior born of divine blessing and forbidden power.

A weapon greater than anything the world had ever seen.

Zephyra chuckled softly, licking her lips.

“Yes… this could be interesting.”

( End of Chapter )