'I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!'-Chapter 40: Pain and Regret

He tried to steel his mind, to anchor his heart in resolve. But every time he looked at Elarya—his younger sister—being pummeled by the merciless barrage of spells, something inside him cracked.

He clenched his jaw, forcing a sinister laugh to mask the storm within, but no matter how hard he tried, the tears still came. They slipped from his eyes, betraying him, just like he felt the world had.

Ever since they were children, Elarya had always shone brighter.

Gifted in spells, skilled in battle, wise beyond her years—she wasn’t just powerful, she was exceptional. While Kael’thus worked himself to the bone, always pushing, always striving, Elarya soared.

She saved him more times than he could count—pulling him from the jaws of Vuls, shielding him from Night Stalkers. The elders used to say the gap between them was not that big.

But to Kael’thus, it felt infinite.

The difference wasn’t just skill. It was purpose.

Elarya dreamed of protecting their people, building a haven in Runewood, safe from outside threats. But Kael’thus... he dreamed of uniting all races. Of ruling not just one forest—but the entire world. He didn’t want to hide.

He wanted to lead.

He wanted to rise.

So he left.

He abandoned Runewood, ignoring the warnings of the previous Elven Queen and Elarya herself. He thought the world would recognize his worth. That his birthright would open doors. But the moment he stepped beyond the treeline, the truth hit him like a winter wind.

Outside, he was just another elf.

Just a rare one—valuable, hunted. And worst of it? No one cared that he was royalty.

More than once, he narrowly escaped being sold to human nobles or captured by orc chieftains. He learned to hide, to fight, and to survive on stale bread and bitter roots.

"I just want a chance..." he had muttered to himself one night, chewing on a moldy crust beneath a dead tree. "Just one chance to lead..."

And that’s when they found him.

The Dark Fate.

They believed, as he did, that the world needed correction.

Not a council of kings. Not divine bloodlines or frames. Just them. A single, unified empire under the will of Lord Thugnaka, the Primordial Beast of Ice and Wind.

In their rule, there would be no favoritism. No hierarchy.

A world where fairness wasn’t a dream—but enforced law.

They didn’t care about his race. They saw his ambition.

They made him a leader.

And Kael’thus let go of the golden prince he once was.

He became Kael’thus of the Dark Fate.

And now, after years of planning, the final blow had been struck.

The floating island trembled, split with jagged scars. Eterna Hollow echoed with the fallout of their spellstorm. The air reeked of ozone, scorched earth, and seared mana.

In the center of a smoldering crater lay Elarya.

Her once-gleaming armor was broken and blackened. Her majestic wings were in tatters. Her golden spear, shattered into fragments. Her body—bruised, bloodied, missing an ear, some fingers, a foot—was barely recognizable beneath the burns and gashes. Only her powerful divine constitution had kept her from disintegrating completely.

Even her once-silken hair had burned to ash.

Kael’thus stared down at her, his expression unreadable. Tears still clung to his lashes, but his face was pale. His hands trembled. His sword was slick with blood. He could barely feel the pain anymore.

Slowly, those tears turned red.

Crimson trails fell from his eyes—crystal tears transforming into blood, dripping down his cheeks like a curse.

Then, above his name, the divine frame shimmered.

*

Name: Kael’thusLevel: 68Title: Thorn Crown of the Dark FateClass: Runesword Master (Ascended)

*

The golden son of Runewood was no more.

With this event, his title changed to the Thorn Crown of the Dark Fate.

The other five members of the faction stood at the edge of the crater, their breath ragged, weapons still glowing, steam rising from their bodies. They had pushed themselves to the brink.

One by one, they drank from mana potions and popped recovery pills. Dakulo sloshed down a bottle of fiery dwarven liquor. Slarveon swallowed a luminous mana pearl whole.

Meanwhile, Kael’thus dropped to one knee, his breath ragged, his vision swimming in red and gold. His fingers gripped the hilt of his own sword still embedded in his abdomen—and with a guttural snarl, he yanked it out.

A fresh wave of searing pain clawed through his torso. His jaw clenched so hard it might’ve cracked. Blood spilled from the wound like ink from a broken seal, staining the soil of Eterna Hollow beneath him.

Without hesitation, he pulled out the final Vhalka Shard—his last line of survival.

He crushed it in his palm.

The crystal burst with a hiss, releasing scarlet fumes that coiled up like ghostly serpents before funneling into his body. The healing magic surged into his bloodstream like fire and frost at once, knitting flesh and halting the bleeding.

But it couldn’t mend what truly hurt.

Not the pressure tightening around his chest.

Not the ache crawling into his ribs, into his spine, into the parts of him no potion could reach.

He didn’t look up.

He didn’t dare.

He couldn’t see her face—not now. Not after what he’d done. Not after seeing the way she looked at him in that final moment... eyes wide, not with hate, but heartbreak.

The silence hung heavy like ash after a wildfire. Until—

"She’s still alive," Lannic muttered, his voice grim, surprised even.

Those words stabbed deeper than any sword.

Kael’thus flinched. The frown on his face twisted with something more complex than rage or guilt. His fingers curled into trembling fists, nails digging into his palms.

Alive?

A rush of something—he didn’t know what—churned inside him.

Relief? Fury? Shame?

A storm without a name.

She was supposed to be gone. That was the plan. The price he wanted to pay once.

All their strategies, their timing, their sacrifices—his sacrifice—it was supposed to seal the fate of Runewood once and for all.

Why wasn’t she dead?

Why was there a part of him... glad?

He stared down at his bloodstained hands.

The pain in his side was manageable now. But the pain spreading through his chest? That wasn’t from any blade. That was something worse.

A memory flickered: Elarya’s hand resting on his head the day he left Runewood. A gentle smile. No crown, no throne. Just his sister, the one who once believed in him.

Now?

He had thrown that all into the fire.

And yet... the flame didn’t feel warm.

It burned.

"Kael’thus," Lannic said again, calm and cold. "I believe it is only right that you finish this yourself. You are, after all, her rightful successor, aren’t you? Take the throne by force. You haven’t cast a single skill in this entire fight. Show us your loyalty to Lord Thugnaka."

"What the hell are you saying, old man? " Kael’thus snapped, rising to his feet with sword in hand. "You want me to kill her myself? Let me guess, do you also want me to strip naked while I’m at it? Would that satisfy you!?"

He raised his blade, pointing it at Lannic’s throat. "Or do you want to die, you senile twig? "

The tension spiked.

His rage was raw. His grief, weaponized.

And in the Dark Fate, emotions were forbidden. They were distractions. Weaknesses. Unwelcome ghosts of the past.

Lannic didn’t even blink. "Have you grown sentimental, Kael’thus? After all this, do you still cling to that old identity? That pathetic prince of Runewood? "

Kael’thus seethed. "The only thing I want to throw away right now is your smug face."

The rest of the group ignored the exchange. They were too busy recovering. Too exhausted to care. Too pragmatic to step between two bickering leaders.

Meanwhile, far from the crater, an ashen white wyvern landed at the base of the volcano. Eyistha slid from its back, shielding herself from the rain of fire and brimstone.

The time had come.

With calm hands, she pulled out the relic Kael’thus had entrusted to her—a burning talisman that radiated with fire resistance and speed. Her steps were steady as she ascended the staircase toward the altar of Vulkris, the sleeping fiery beast of destruction.

The final phase of the Dark Fate’s plan had begun.

And no one—not even a fallen queen—could stop it now.

Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om