The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Klaus stood in the sparring circle, his sword resting idly in his grip, watching as five of Team 55’s best fighters stepped forward.

The moment Kalix had announced the "welcome assessment," hands had shot up across the squad. Some were eager to test Klaus firsthand, while others simply wanted to see him humbled.

"Why not just send some of our strongest?" one squad member muttered.

"This isn’t just about winning a fight," another countered. "If he’s really as strong as they say, he should prove it without relying on aura or sword techniques." @@novelbin@@

That reasoning settled the debate.

So now, before Klaus stood five warriors—all seasoned fighters, each one moving with the unmistakable confidence of a combatant who had been through real battles. All of them had high-tier Green Cores. Klaus could sense it immediately.

At this level, they’re at the same stage as Alex and Nicholas, he mused. But there was a key difference.

Alex and Nicholas had attained this level of power at the age of twelve, something rare enough to be considered prodigious. Achieving a high-tier Green Core that young was an extraordinary feat, marking them as outliers even among the most talented warriors.

The five standing before Klaus, however, were in their early twenties. They had reached this level through years of disciplined training, battlefield experience, and relentless effort. Their strength was impressive, but it had been forged over time, rather than something they had possessed from an unnaturally young age.

Klaus took note of this distinction. They were formidable, but they weren’t prodigies—they were warriors shaped by hardship and experience. That meant they would fight with refined technique and discipline, relying on precision and strategy rather than raw talent alone.

Kalix leaned casually against a wooden post nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. "Alright, you all know the rules. No lethal strikes, but go all out otherwise. If he’s going to lead, we need to see what he’s made of."

There were murmurs of agreement. Some members of Team 55 still looked unconvinced. The reputation of a Swordmaster meant little in their world—leadership was earned, not given.

Alexandra, standing just outside the ring, clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"I still don’t see why we’re doing this," she muttered. "It’s obvious he’s stronger than all of them."

Kalix grinned. "Yeah? Then you should be excited. If he’s as strong as you say, he’ll make this look easy."

Alexandra glared at him but didn’t reply.

Inside the ring, Klaus studied his five opponents, his stance relaxed, unreadable. Each one was different.

The first was a tall man with a heavy broadsword, his grip steady and unwavering. The second wielded twin daggers, shifting his weight lightly from foot to foot. The third carried a longsword, his posture textbook perfect. The fourth had no weapon drawn, meaning he was likely a martial artist or a grappler. The fifth, and perhaps the most dangerous, was a woman with an elegant saber, her calm expression betraying nothing.

These weren’t amateurs. They had trained together for years, moving in sync, reading each other’s cues.

Klaus was already analyzing them before the fight began.

The air in the training yard was tense. Then, Kalix gave the signal.

Continue your journey at NovelBin.Côm

"Begin."

The five fighters sprang into motion, their instincts honed by years of experience.

Klaus did not immediately counter. Instead, he observed.

The broadsword wielder charged straight for him, a distraction. The twin dagger user flanked to the left, moving fast, aiming for weak points. The longsword user took a measured approach, stepping in cautiously, prepared to strike at the first opening.

The unarmed fighter, as expected, was waiting for Klaus to commit before engaging, likely to counter.

And the saber wielder—she didn’t move. She watched, just like him.

Smart.

Klaus moved.

He sidestepped the broadsword strike, pivoting just enough that the dagger wielder’s attack sailed through empty air instead of hitting his ribs. His sword barely flicked forward—and the dagger user found his wrist knocked aside, his balance thrown off.

The longsword user lunged. Klaus turned his body ever so slightly, letting the blade pass a hair’s width from his side before he twisted and delivered a controlled counter, striking his opponent’s weapon just hard enough to send vibrations through his grip.

A second later, Klaus was already moving to the next step.

The unarmed fighter tried to capitalize, launching a powerful sweeping kick aimed at Klaus’s side. But Klaus had already read his timing. He pivoted smoothly and let the kick strike the empty air where he had been a second earlier.

To onlookers, it was eerily efficient.

It wasn’t just that Klaus was fast or powerful—he wasn’t even fighting at full speed.

He wasn’t reacting—he was predicting.

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed as she watched.

He’s playing with them.

For the first minute, Klaus had simply observed. Now, he took control.

The dagger user recovered, shifting back into a low, aggressive stance. He darted forward again, but Klaus intercepted him mid-motion, knocking one of his blades out of his hand before sending him stumbling with a precise strike to his ribs.

The broadsword wielder tried to take advantage, lifting his heavy blade in a downward strike.

Klaus sidestepped—then spun, cutting the man’s balance out from under him.

The longsword user barely had time to react before Klaus closed the distance, locking his weapon with his own and pressing it down with little effort.

Then, the saber wielder moved.

She coated her blade in a brilliant light-green aura, the energy twisting like tendrils of whipping wind and crackling lightning. The air around her shimmered as her elemental affinity surged, the ground beneath her feet slightly cracking under the sudden burst of pressure.

With a sharp inhale, she channeled her energy into her weapon, and in an instant, a spectral serpent formed from wind and electricity coiled around the length of her saber, its translucent body crackling with power.

Stormfang Crescent

With a precise motion, she executed her technique, slashing in an elegant arc. The serpent surged forward, twisting through the air as if alive, its glowing fangs aimed directly at the gap Klaus had left open while dealing with the others.

For the first time, Klaus moved his sword with full intent.

A single shift of his wrist. A twist of his body. A perfectly timed block.

The spectral serpent flickered, then shattered as Klaus’s blade intercepted the strike with absolute precision. The air cracked with a sharp snap as the energy dispersed, vanishing in an instant.

The saber wielder barely had time to register what had happened before Klaus stepped past her broken defenses, his sword moving with almost mechanical efficiency. With a single calculated strike, he disarmed her cleanly, knocking her weapon from her grip. The saber spun through the air before clattering onto the training ground.

A second later, it was over.

The dust settled. The five fighters, each exceptionally skilled in their own right, had been dismantled with ease.

Klaus remained perfectly composed, sword at his side, not even breathing heavily.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Kalix, leaning against a post, let out a low whistle. "Well... that was something."

The squad members who had watched the fight looked between each other, murmuring. Some of them were impressed, others irritated, and a few simply shocked.

The dagger user clenched his jaw. The broadsword wielder sighed and rubbed his shoulder. The saber fighter, though clearly frustrated, picked up her weapon and gave Klaus a lingering, thoughtful glance.

Some among the squad instantly respected Klaus. Others resented him more than before.

Kalix stepped forward, slapping a hand on Klaus’s shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen, your new squad leader."

There was no applause. No cheers.

Just silent acknowledgment—some reluctant, some curious, some still defiant.

Alexandra, watching from the sidelines, hadn’t moved for the past few minutes.

She had seen Klaus fight before. She had known he was strong. But this was different.

It wasn’t just skill. It was control. It was efficiency. It was something monstrous.

Kalix, unbothered by the tension, grinned. "Alright, you all got your show. Now get back to work."

As the squad members dispersed, one of them lingered—a man with narrow, watchful eyes. He stepped forward, arms crossed, tilting his head.

"Not bad," he said, voice unreadable. "But I’m still not convinced."

Klaus met his gaze, impassive.

Kalix, grinning, gestured toward him. "Well, well. Looks like somebody wants another match."