The Most Satisfied Reincarnate-Chapter 312: You’re a Bad Father!

As the tension thickened and the various groups locked eyes, each assessing their opponent’s strength, a palpable surge of natural energy coalesced at the center of the grassy plain. The air crackled with anticipation.

In an instant, a sudden swoosh sliced through the atmosphere, conjuring a miniature whirlpool that compelled the contestants to retreat from their positions. The meadow’s leaves whirled madly, slashing through the air, revealing the earth beneath.

Shielding their eyes from the onslaught of airborne foliage, the contestants squinted, straining to decipher the source of the disturbance.

"Whoa, did someone just cast a spell?" one of them exclaimed, astonishment etched across their face.

"Has someone already made their move?" questioned another, their eyes darting from one group to another.

However, unbeknownst to the onlookers, the contestants were already locked in combat, their actions lost in the spectators’ shifting attention. They failed to discern the peculiar anomaly hovering above the center stage.

Meanwhile, Clark’s concern grew palpable as he attempted to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth. Pushing aside the slumping weight of Gibson, he wore an expression twisted with worry.

"What the fuck, man!" Gibson cursed as his body crashed to the ground. The forceful gusts of wind steadily pushed them backward, but Clark’s indomitable power effortlessly displaced even Gibson’s hefty frame.

Noticing Clark’s distraction, Gibson clenched his fist, ready to confront him. "Tch, if you’re so desperate for a woman, I’ll gladly offer you one from my extensive collection." He grumbled, regaining his footing and muttering something under his breath.

"Earth Wall!" Gibson channeled his innate natural energy, commanding the ground beneath them.

A deep rumble reverberated through the ground as a solid block of earth ascended, lifting a portion of the meadow with it. The impromptu barrier shielded them from the relentless wind and obstructed their view of the enemy.

"What the hell are you doing, fatty?" Edison’s angry voice boomed as he, too, cast his spell, ensnaring their legs with sudden roots thrusting forth from the earth.

Matson glanced at both Gibson and Edison, emitting a derisive snort. "Cease this childish bickering. We only require his roots. Remove your wall now," he ordered disdainfully, his gaze cutting toward the uncertain Clark.

Matson clicked his tongue, frustrated by Clark’s hesitance.

...

On the other side, amidst Elizabeth and her companions, a young man with vibrant purple hair stood firmly, shielding the girls from the relentless wind with his formidable physique.

"I apologize for my impudence, Your Highness," the purple-haired boy spoke, turning his head to address Elizabeth and her entourage.

"No need for apologies. You made the right decision," Elizabeth responded, nodding serenely as she calmly surveyed the opposing groups on the plain. She attempted to steal glances at the swirling whirlpool at the center, observing the dynamics of the other factions.

"It appears this sudden upheaval originates from the academy," Elizabeth mused, her keen eyes studying the expressions of each individual. No traces of energy connected them to the center stage, and she even noticed the final group employing a similar tactic—an enigma to her until now.

Among the factions, only Matson and his group utilized their magic to counter the overwhelming wind pressure.

"Eliz, do you feel confident facing them?" Gabriela, clutching her hands to her chest, voiced her concern, her gaze fixated on her dearest friend’s countenance.

"Your Highness, permit me to handle that corpulent fool and that arrogant individual. I am well-acquainted with their powers, and I am confident in my abilities," interjected a red-haired girl, her body enveloped in radiant, white-tinged armor. Her hands firmly grasped a ethereal great sword, emanating an incandescent heat that enveloped her surroundings.

She observed Diana for a brief moment, her gaze causing the red-haired girl to grow slightly uneasy, wondering if she had chosen the right words.

"Are you certain, Miss Diana?" Elizabeth glanced at the purple-haired boy’s condition before redirecting her attention to Diana, who met her with a resolute gaze.

"Yes, Your Highness. I will not disappoint you, unlike my father," Diana declared, gripping her Great Sword firmly and then placing it respectfully on the ground before saluting Elizabeth. Perhaps due to her father’s antagonistic attitude towards the royal family, Diana found it difficult to engage in casual conversation, unlike Gabriela’s easy rapport with Elizabeth.

"Oh, please, Miss Diana, how many times must I tell you? There’s no need for such formality when speaking with me. And what’s gotten into you?" Elizabeth chuckled, amused by Diana’s habit of maintaining decorum, even after numerous reminders. She playfully covered her mouth, adorned with white gloves, as if stifling laughter.

On the other side, Gabriela looked on in confusion. Since they had begun fighting together, Diana had always retained her formal mannerisms, despite Elizabeth’s repeated requests. It was only when Elizabeth informed Gabriela about Diana’s father’s high-ranking position in the army that she grasped the reason behind Diana’s behavior, although certain queries still lingered.

"Should I act in the same manner as her since it appears my father holds a higher position than hers?" Gabriela pondered, tilting her head to the side, unintentionally drawing the attention of Elizabeth and Diana.

"Look what you’ve done, Miss Diana." Elizabeth chuckled, speaking jestingly to Diana and patting Gabriela’s head. "You don’t need to mimic her. Just be yourself, Riel."

Gabriela beamed with joy, gripping Elizabeth’s hand tightly, determined to prevent her from withdrawing her hand from her head.

Observing their interaction, Diana’s gaze softened, her lips unconsciously curling into a faint smile. Raised predominantly by her mother, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the influence her father had on her, making her conversations with Elizabeth, which were usually casual, become somewhat awkward.

The sight of the girls from Elizabeth’s group drawing the attention of their fellow students unfolded before them.

"Ah! My princess! You’re as beautiful as ever!" exclaimed one boy.

"Look at the city lord’s daughter. Who knew she could be so adorable!" remarked another, their voices filled with excitement, while the girls watched in silence, their hands cupped in appreciation.

"Eh? Guys, look at that! It’s changing!" Suddenly, the students’ focus shifted from the center stage as one voice alerted them to the hovering words.

The previously displayed word "winner," which was supposed to appear only after the match ended, transformed into a large, empty rectangle. Gradually, the ambient natural energy began to coalesce, forming a multitude of characters.

"All contestants need only defeat this man, and you will all progress to the next stage!" As the students and contestants read those words, chaos ensued, and an uproar erupted.

"They’re so lucky!"

"Please, let me go now!" A student attempted to leap over the debris, only to be repelled by an invisible barrier.

Simultaneously, the silhouette of a person emerged from the swirling winds, intensifying the rotation of the whirlpool and causing the various groups to struggle in their efforts to catch a glimpse.

As the wind gradually subsided, the man who had emerged onto the center stage began to make his presence known. Clad in attire befitting a noble, his dark brown hair was elegantly tied back, and his magenta eyes scanned the surroundings with a discerning gaze. There was a momentary silence as all eyes turned toward him. Though undeniably handsome, the aura surrounding him set him apart from the other attractive students.

The female students’ gazes immediately softened, leaving them dumbfounded, while the males glared at him from above.

"Wow, it’s truly enchanting," he murmured in amazement as his eyes landed on the floating stone debris above the center stage. Unbeknownst to him, his gaze unintentionally caused the female students to blush under its intense scrutiny.

"It’s him! The one who insulted and offended Young Master Edison!" exclaimed a student from above, pointing directly at the man on the center stage.

"Eh? I recognize him too. Wasn’t he the one who nearly incinerated that overweight guy? And yet, the white-robed individuals didn’t intervene," another student chimed in, causing a chorus of hisses to emanate from the group.

The man in question was Desmond, and he had finally arrived at the second test.

In an instant, the words on the rectangular display vanished once more, replaced by an intangible air of anticipation. Desmond could feel the weight of countless gazes upon him—anger, jealousy, resentment, envy, and even a hint of affection?