The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Pathways of the Mind
The Frost Chamber existed in a state of perpetual twilight. Blue-white crystals lined the walls, their gentle luminescence providing the only illumination in the perfectly circular room. The temperature hovered just above freezing—cold enough to slow biological processes, but not so cold as to damage living tissue. It was a place of preservation rather than healing, designed to maintain rather than repair.

For Roman Lionhart, standing at the chamber’s edge felt uncomfortably like keeping vigil over a tomb.

His grandson lay motionless upon the raised platform at the room’s center, surrounded by runes of such antiquity that even Roman, with all his knowledge, could decipher only a fraction of their meaning. Klaus’s silver hair had been carefully arranged around his face, which remained as expressionless as carved marble. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest confirmed that life persisted.

“The Elder Sages have arrived, Father.”

Roman did not turn at Raphael’s approach, though he nodded acknowledgment. “Have they been briefed?”

“As much as deemed necessary,” Raphael replied, his healer’s robes rustling as he moved to stand beside his father. “They know he confronted something beyond human comprehension at Northwatch. They do not know about Gluttony.”

“Good.” Roman’s eyes remained fixed on Klaus. “The fewer who learn of that aspect, the better.”

Raphael’s expression betrayed a hint of discomfort with the deception, but he did not argue. His focus remained where it had been since Klaus’s return—on healing what could be healed.

“We should begin soon,” he said, gesturing to the crystalline timepiece mounted on the wall. “The alignment will be optimal within the hour.”

Roman nodded again, more decisively this time. “Bring them in.”

As Raphael departed to summon the others, Roman approached the platform. Despite the growth spurt that had transformed Klaus over recent months, there was still something vulnerable about him in this unconscious state—a reminder that regardless of his abilities, he remained a child forced to bear burdens beyond his years. Roman’s weathered hand hovered over Klaus’s forehead, not quite touching.

“Your father was right to challenge me,” he whispered, knowing the words went unheard. “You deserved better from me. From all of us.”

The moment of vulnerability passed quickly, Roman’s expression hardening back into its familiar mask of authority as the chamber doors opened. He stepped back from the platform, hands clasped behind his back, spine straight as a blade.

Four Elder Sages entered first, their ivory robes marking them as members of the Ethereal Confluence—practitioners who had devoted centuries to mastering the restorative arts. Each wore a crystalline pendant that glowed with inner light, their faces bearing the subtle signs of extreme longevity—not aged, precisely, but weathered in a way that suggested decades or even centuries of existence.

Behind them came Alexandra, dressed in a simple white tunic without any metals or accessories that might disrupt the delicate energies of the healing ritual. Though rested and physically recovered, her eyes carried the haunted look of one who had witnessed things beyond normal comprehension. She had refused to leave the estate since her return, maintaining an almost constant vigil near the Frost Chamber.

Ludovic Lionhart entered last. Unlike the Ethereal Confluence sages in their ivory ceremonial robes or Raphael in his formal healer’s attire, Ludovic wore the plain clothing he had preferred since his fall from grace. His eyes went immediately to his son, a muscle in his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

“We may proceed,” announced the eldest of the sages, a woman with silver hair and eyes so pale they appeared almost colorless. “The subject has been prepared with the appropriate stabilization runes.”

Roman bristled visibly at the word “subject,” but Raphael laid a restraining hand on his father’s arm.

“The boy,” Raphael corrected gently, “has been stabilized using the ancient runes of preservation, yes. We are grateful for your assistance in what comes next.”

The sage inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the correction without apology. “The procedure will be… unorthodox. Consciousness fragmentation of this magnitude is rarely survivable, let alone reversible.”

“Yet you believe it possible,” Roman stated rather than asked.

“Possible, yes. Probable…” The sage’s pale eyes focused on Klaus. “That depends on what remains of the consciousness we seek to restore.”

Alexandra stepped forward, her voice quiet but steady. “There’s something still there. I saw recognition in his eyes just before… before the darkness took him.”

“You were the only witness to what happened,” the sage acknowledged. “Your participation will be essential, though I understand you cannot share all you saw.”

Ludovic, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. “What exactly does this procedure entail? What risks does it pose to my son?”

The sage turned to face him directly. “We will attempt to create a neural pathway into your son’s fragmented mind—essentially, a bridge between his scattered consciousness and our own. Through this connection, we hope to locate the fragments and begin the process of reassembly.”

“And the risks?” Ludovic pressed.

“Considerable,” the sage admitted without pretense. “If his consciousness has been too severely compromised, the attempt may destroy what fragments remain. Or, should we successfully locate the fragments but fail to reassemble them correctly, the result could be… something that is no longer your son.”

A heavy silence fell over the chamber. It was Raphael who broke it.

“There is also the risk to those who participate in creating the pathway,” he added. “Mental connection to a fragmented consciousness carries danger of feedback—psychic trauma that could damage the minds of those involved.”

“Which is why,” the sage continued, “we require those with the strongest connection to the subject. Blood relatives. Those who share emotional bonds of significance.”

“I will lead the attempt,” Raphael stated with quiet authority. “As both a healer and his uncle, I have the necessary skill and connection.”

“I will participate as well,” Alexandra volunteered immediately. “I was there. I saw what happened.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed slightly, considering the situation. “I will join the connection.”

This statement drew surprised glances from several present, including Ludovic, whose expression darkened perceptibly.

“Now you show concern,” he said, his voice low but cutting. “Now that he has proven his worth beyond doubt. Now that he lies broken from serving your interests.”

Roman turned to face his disowned son, blue eyes as cold as the chamber itself. “Choose your next words with care, Ludovic.”

“Why?” Ludovic took a step forward, decades of suppressed anger rising to the surface. “Will you cast me out again? Deprive me of what remains? Or perhaps you plan to discard Klaus as well, now that he is no longer useful to you. Another broken Lionhart to be hidden away in an annex.”

“Ludovic,” Raphael attempted to intervene, but Roman raised a hand, silencing him.

“You believe I view Klaus as merely useful?” Roman’s voice remained controlled, though a dangerous undercurrent had entered it. “That I measure his worth by what service he provides the family?”

“Don’t you?” Ludovic challenged. “Isn’t that how you measured all of us? How you determined I was worthless once my core shattered?”

For a moment, the temperature in the chamber seemed to drop further as Roman’s control over his power wavered slightly. When he spoke again, his voice carried an intensity rarely displayed outside of combat.

“I was hard on my children. Perhaps too hard. I demanded excellence, perfection, strength—because the world demands no less from those who would lead. When you fell, I saw my own failure as much as yours.” Roman’s gaze shifted briefly to Klaus’s still form. “But do not presume to compare my treatment of you to my regard for my grandchild.”

“Your actions speak otherwise,” Ludovic pressed, undeterred.

“Do they?” Roman’s composure cracked slightly. “Who authorized expeditions to four continents seeking healing methods when he was born with the Curse of Darkness? Who personally reviewed every report from his training instructors? Who gifted him the Lionhart Flame Art manuscript—an heirloom I have denied even my direct heirs?”

The revelations seemed to take Ludovic by surprise, his righteous anger momentarily faltering.

“I have never expressed these sentiments to the boy,” Roman continued, his voice softening fractionally. “Perhaps that was a mistake. But while I may have been a harsh father, Ludovic, I have tried to be a better grandfather. However imperfectly.”

Before Ludovic could respond, the eldest sage cleared her throat. “Fascinating as this family discourse may be, the optimal alignment approaches. We must prepare.”

Roman straightened, composure returning like a familiar cloak. “Yes. Let us proceed.”

“Both of you will participate,” Raphael said, looking between his father and brother. “The more connections to Klaus we can establish, the stronger the pathway.”

Ludovic hesitated only briefly before nodding his agreement.

Under the sages’ direction, they positioned themselves around the platform where Klaus lay. Raphael stood at his head, hands hovering inches above Klaus’s temples. Alexandra and Ludovic took positions on either side, each placing a hand on one of Klaus’s arms. Roman stood at his feet, his presence completing the circuit.

“The Elder Sages will stabilize the psychic energies,” Raphael explained. “I will create the initial pathway. The rest of you will serve as anchors—familiar presences that might draw Klaus’s fragmented consciousness toward coherence.”

One by one, the sages activated their crystalline pendants, filling the chamber with resonant harmonic tones. The runes surrounding the platform responded, their faint glow intensifying until the entire circle pulsed with blue-white light.

“Focus on your memories of Klaus,” Raphael instructed as he placed his hands directly on Klaus’s temples. “Hold them clearly in your mind—moments of connection, of understanding. Create a beacon for his consciousness to navigate toward.”

Alexandra closed her eyes, recalling Klaus guiding Team 55 through increasingly difficult challenges. The confidence he inspired, the calm strategy he employed even in crisis. The moment in Northwatch when she had glimpsed recognition in his eyes before darkness consumed him. She carefully filtered her memories, keeping Klaus’s unexplainable abilities—abilities that should be impossible for a swordsman—locked away in the depths of her mind. Some secrets weren’t hers to share.

Ludovic’s memories flowed differently—Klaus as a small child, determinedly practicing sword forms despite his frail body. The month at his private estate, watching his son transform through sheer force of will. The fierce pride he had felt when Klaus demanded an apology for his parents’ treatment.

Roman’s thoughts were more guarded, more complex. His first true recognition of Klaus’s potential during the Sword Selection Ceremony. The shock of witnessing him pass the Aequalis Array in record time. The quiet satisfaction of seeing this silver-haired child, so reminiscent of the Lionhart founder, exceed all expectations.

Raphael drew upon these emotional anchors, weaving them with his healer’s arts into a shimmering pathway that extended beyond physical perception—a bridge into the fragmented landscape of Klaus’s mind.

“I’ve established initial contact,” he announced, his voice distant with concentration. “There is… resistance. Not from Klaus, but from something else. Something vast.”

The eldest sage moved closer, her colorless eyes narrowing. “Describe it.”

“It feels… ancient. Alien. Like trying to comprehend an ocean by examining a single drop of water.” Raphael’s brow furrowed with effort. “It’s not actively hostile, but it’s… territorial. Protective, perhaps, of what remains of Klaus’s consciousness.”

Alexandra inhaled sharply, recognizing the entity’s presence from Northwatch, though she kept the name she had heard to herself. Some knowledge was too dangerous to share.

“Do you recognize this presence?” the sage asked Alexandra, noticing her reaction.

“I sensed it at Northwatch,” she admitted carefully. “But I don’t understand what it is.”

“Continue, Raphael,” Roman directed, guiding the focus back to the task.

Raphael pressed deeper through the resistance, guided by the combined emotional anchors of those around him. “I’m perceiving fragments now—shards of consciousness scattered across a void. Some seem intact, others damaged. Many are… changed somehow. Altered by whatever separated them.”

“Can you begin reassembly?” asked another sage.

“Not yet. The fragments are too dispersed, too unstable. I need to—” Raphael suddenly gasped, his body stiffening. “Something’s happening. The fragments are moving. Organizing.”

The crystals lining the chamber walls brightened in response to the surge of psychic energy. The runes around the platform flared with intensity, their ancient patterns shifting in ways they were never designed to do.

“Not by my direction,” Raphael clarified, strain evident in his voice. “Something else is facilitating the process. Something using our connection as a… framework.”

“Withdraw,” ordered the eldest sage, concern cracking her professional detachment. “Withdraw immediately.”

“No,” Raphael countered. “This may be our only opportunity. Whatever is happening, it’s bringing the fragments closer to coherence than I could alone.”

The chamber’s temperature plummeted suddenly, frost spreading across the floor in intricate patterns. Klaus’s body remained motionless, but beneath his closed eyelids, rapid movement could be detected.

“The fragments are aligning,” Raphael reported, his voice now barely above a whisper. “Connecting. But they’re still… incomplete. As if pieces are missing, or being deliberately withheld.”

Alexandra’s eyes flew open. “The absorption,” she said urgently, choosing her words with care. “When the entity took control, everything around it was consumed—the Duke, the Rift, Northwatch itself. What if parts of Klaus were absorbed too?”

Raphael’s expression shifted as he considered this. “That would explain the gaps. The fragments I can sense might be only those Glut- that being released or couldn’t fully integrate.”

“Can you retrieve the others?” Ludovic asked, desperation edging his usually controlled voice.

“I… don’t think so,” Raphael admitted. “They’re beyond the boundary I can perceive. It’s like trying to reach through a wall I can sense but not touch.”

The eldest sage stepped forward, her pendant glowing brighter than the others. “We must secure what fragments we can, then. If parts of his consciousness have been truly absorbed by whatever force Miss Lionhart encountered, they are beyond our reach for now.”

Under her guidance, Raphael began the delicate process of stabilizing the fragments that had aligned. The other sages joined their energies to his, creating a lattice of healing power that enveloped the fragmented consciousness.

“I can feel him,” Alexandra said suddenly. “Not whole, but… more present than before.”

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed. “The fragments are stabilizing, forming a more coherent pattern. Not complete, but no longer in danger of further deterioration.”

After what seemed like hours but might have been minutes—time behaved strangely in the Frost Chamber even under normal circumstances—Raphael carefully withdrew from the pathway he had created. The others followed, the connection dissolving as they stepped back from the platform.

The eldest sage examined Klaus with her colorless eyes, seeing far more than physical condition. “The procedure was partially successful,” she announced. “The consciousness fragments have been stabilized and prevented from further scattering. Some have even begun the process of reintegration.”

“But he remains unconscious,” Ludovic stated, looking at his son’s still face.

“Yes. The missing fragments are too significant for full restoration of consciousness. He is… suspended between states. Neither fully present nor absent.”

“Will he recover?” Alexandra asked the question they all held in their hearts.

The sage considered her answer carefully. “That depends on whether the missing fragments can be recovered. If they remain permanently absorbed by whatever entity you encountered, then no—this partial consciousness is the most that can be achieved.”

Roman’s expression hardened. “That is unacceptable.”

“It is reality,” the sage countered without deference. “Unless you know a way to retrieve pieces of consciousness from a force that exists beyond conventional understanding, this is the outcome we must accept.”

Silence fell over the chamber once more. It was Raphael who eventually broke it, his healer’s pragmatism asserting itself.

“We’ve made progress,” he reminded them. “Klaus’s remaining consciousness is no longer fragmenting. It’s stable, organized, and potentially capable of further healing. That’s more than we had yesterday.”

“And less than we need for tomorrow,” Roman replied, though without heat. For perhaps the first time in decades, the Ice Monarch looked truly exhausted.

The sages began dismantling their equipment, their work completed for now. As they prepared to depart, the eldest approached Roman directly.

“There is something else you should know,” she said, her voice pitched for his ears alone. “During the procedure, I sensed something… unexpected within the boy’s consciousness. Patterns that suggest this is not his first life.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“The fragments contain memory structures too complex, too layered for a single lifetime—particularly one so young. It appears your grandson may have experienced reincarnation.”

“Is that relevant to his recovery?”

“Perhaps. Reincarnated souls often retain connections to their past lives—connections that might provide an alternative pathway for consciousness retrieval.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Or they might complicate matters further, depending on what exactly now holds the missing fragments.”

With that cryptic statement, she departed with her fellow sages, leaving the family alone with their unconscious child.

Alexandra moved to Klaus’s side, adjusting the light blanket that covered him. “I’ll stay with him,” she said quietly.

“We all will,” Ludovic responded, taking up position on the opposite side of the platform. “For as long as necessary.”

Roman watched them silently, his earlier vulnerability concealed once more behind the mask of patriarch. Yet he made no move to leave the chamber, instead positioning himself near the door like a sentinel.

Raphael observed his father and brother—two men who had barely spoken for years—unified in their vigil over this silver-haired child who had somehow penetrated the walls around both their hearts.

“He’ll find his way back,” Raphael said with more confidence than he truly felt. “He’s a Lionhart. And Lionharts always find their way home.”

Outside the Frost Chamber, night had fallen across the estate. Stars glittered in the clear sky, indifferent to the human drama unfolding beneath them. In the darkness, ancient forces stirred—some aware of what had transpired, others yet oblivious.

And somewhere in the spaces between consciousness and oblivion, fragments of a boy named Klaus Lionhart continued their slow, imperfect process of reassembly.