REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO
Chapter 55: LILITH’S RADAR

Chapter 55: LILITH’S RADAR

In the throne room of the Velkar royal palace, a man knelt before the high dais. Seated above him, cloaked in deep crimson robes, was none other than King Malrik himself.

"Why did you return alone? Where is Zachariah? And what about the mission?"

Malrik’s voice was calm—but laced with expectation and doubt.

The kneeling man’s voice trembled as he answered, "My king, they were sending regular updates each morning. Yesterday, they followed the usual schedule. But this morning, nothing. I tried communicating through the magical scrolls. No response."

Malrik frowned. "And?"

"I... I believe something’s happened to them. I fear they’ve been caught in foreign territory."

CRACK!

King Malrik’s voice thundered across the chamber. "What?!"

The royal court fell silent.

"Useless," Malrik spat. "He was so confident in his plan. So proud of his ’flawless strategy.’ And now this?"

The man’s head sank lower. "My king... what should we do? Should we send someone else to track them down?"

"Oh yes. And while we’re at it, let’s just walk into Arcadia and announce we sent assassins after their Third Prince. Why not hand them a declaration of war ourselves?"

His words were dripping with fury.

"No need to send anyone. If they come back alive, good for them. If they don’t... then forget we ever had an ally named Zachariah."

The kneeling man bowed again. "Yes, my king."

"Leave." King Malrik lashed out with irritation.

He rose and bowed respectfully. After that, exited the throne room quietly.

Back in the tournament arena’s healing chamber, Morgan and Zephyr were nearly recovered and preparing for their next match. They were strapping on their armor, tightening their boots—but their eyes kept drifting to the two other patients across the room.

Rovan and Logan.

Even after hearing that Logan had won, they found it hard to believe. But what shocked them even more was the injuries—bruises, scorched skin, bandaged limbs, which spoke louder than words about how intense the battle was.

They weren’t just shocked that Logan had won.

They regretted not seeing it with their own eyes.

In the arena, the crowd was starting to grow restless.

"Why is it taking so long to start the next match?" one spectator complained.

"We’ve been waiting forever."

"Stupid. Don’t you see the rings? Both were destroyed. And three of the five semifinalists are injured. They need time to recover."

Though only a short while had passed, it felt much longer to the audience. The excitement, the anticipation—it made every second crawl. The noise in the stands was a mix of frustration and buzzing eagerness.

In the noble viewing box, Marquess Yale sat stiffly.

He had wanted to leave the moment Rovan lost, but doing so would only damage his reputation even further. Now he sat like a stone statue. His overbearing presence had completely faded.

He could hear the subtle laughter and whispered mockery from nearby nobles.

But he remained silent. He knew now was not the time to talk back.

In another balcony, where the Smiths and Starwinds were seated, the mood was lighter. Laughter filled the space. Even Alice, who had been worried moments ago, now looked visibly relieved.

After examining Logan personally, Emily had reassured her.

"Don’t worry, Miss Smith. Logan will be rocking the stage again in his next match," Emily said with a smile.

Alice returned the smile politely. "Thank you very much, Emily. Twice now, you’ve shown us kindness. We are truly grateful."

"Oh come now," Emily chuckled, "I’m a healer—that’s what I do. I would’ve helped anyone who needed it. But I’m genuinely glad I could help Logan. He’s not just talented—he’s humble too."

Alice was basking in quiet pride. There’s a joy only a mother feels when someone praises her child.

Rudeous, sitting beside her, felt the same warmth.

Lilith was also nearby, pretending to look uninterested. But in truth, she was soaking in every word about Logan. Every detail. Every pause. Every slip.

This boy named Logan had piqued her interest to a different level.

So far, she hadn’t found anything useful.

Finally, Noah leaned forward and said, "Logan will definitely reach the finals. He may even win the whole thing. It’s rare to see such a young boy with so much passion and energy."

"He sure is," Rudeous replied with a modest smile. "But we’re already proud of him. Just reaching the semifinals at his age is enough. His next opponent is Prince Rowan Hale. I don’t think Logan stands a chance against someone like that."

He didn’t say it lightly.

Rudeous knew Logan’s potential.

But Prince Rowan? He was something else entirely.

His previous opponents couldn’t even last for five minutes.

Although he was officially

declared as tier two mage, many had their own doubts. Though there was no way to confirm it, many had a hunch that Prince Rowan was actually a tier three mage. And Rudeous was one of them.

And if that were true...

To reach Tier 3 before the age of twenty was unheard of. Monstrous. Even Rudeous himself had only recently achieved Tier 4—and that might be his final advancement.

Rowan? He could very well reach Tier 6—the fabled peak of mages.

"Haha! Lord Rudeous, you’re too modest," Noah grinned. "Of all people, you and Miss Smith should be confident in Logan. With his full strength, he can take down anyone in this tournament."

He ended with a wink.

Others might speak formally in front of noble families, but Noah wasn’t just anyone. He wasn’t noble-born—but he was a Tier 5 mage, with three affinities. More importantly, he was an S-class hunter—among the elite of the elite.

He had no reason to act formal.

Rudeous forced a polite smile, a little caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Noah to say that so openly.

He didn’t know that both Noah and Emily were fully aware of Logan’s secrets.

But the last line didn’t bypass Lilith’s radar.

"With his full strength, he can take down anyone in this tournament."

She didn’t say a word.

But her eyes narrowed.

Her mind was racing.