Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 216: Group (4)

Lindarion didn’t speak.

Sylric did.

"They’re not building something."

That cut through the quiet.

Lindarion looked over.

Sylric leaned back against the stone pillar, arms draped loosely across his knees.

"They’re carving," he said. "Deliberately. Not with mana alone. With tools. Blood. Burnt stone. Old glyphs."

Lindarion frowned. "Where?"

"Eastern mountain range. Cliffs near the collapsed silver mines."

"How do you know?"

"People I used to know went quiet," Sylric said. "Then some fool sent a sketch to a black-market archivist. Got intercepted by someone I don’t owe money to."

He reached into his coat, pulled a folded piece of parchment, and handed it over.

Lindarion opened it.

The drawing was rough, but the scale was clear, mountainside. Dozens of feet tall. Angular carvings running in a circle with branching spokes. Older than common Elvish. Deeper than elemental theory.

It wasn’t a building.

It was a rune.

One word.

Not for summoning.

For anchoring.

Lindarion’s fingers tightened around the edge.

"They’re fixing something in place," he muttered.

"Or trying to rip something out," Sylric said. "Either way, they’ve got reach."

"How many locations?"

"One confirmed. But if they’re smart, they’re spreading it. Pattern work. Networked." freewebnσvel.cøm

Lindarion stared at the lines again.

The rune wasn’t decorative. It wasn’t artistic.

It was mechanical.

"Why now?" he asked.

Sylric’s voice dropped. "Because something’s waking up. And they want to meet it first."

—

The fire was almost out. A few embers clung to life, flickering dull orange against a floor smeared in boot-mud and mercenary boredom.

Lindarion didn’t sleep.

He sat near the edge of the room, coat wrapped tighter than it needed to be, staring at nothing in particular. His thoughts weren’t loud. Just insistent.

Behind him, Sylric dragged over a bench and dropped into it with the grace of a collapsing bookshelf.

He didn’t look at Lindarion. Didn’t need to.

"You’re holding back," he said.

Lindarion didn’t move. "I’m sleeping."

"Poorly."

A beat passed.

"You’ve been sitting on Greater Core pressure for what, a month?"

Lindarion said nothing.

Sylric went on. "You could’ve cracked into Refined Core days ago. Weeks, probably. Anyone standing close enough can feel it. It’s not subtle."

Lindarion exhaled slowly.

He didn’t deny it. Because it was true.

The mana was... pressing now. Not pushing, not hurting. Just there. Constant. Like something that knew it was supposed to evolve, and was wondering why it hadn’t been given permission yet.

Sylric didn’t wait for an answer.

"I’ve seen mages stall advancement before," he said. "They think staying still gives them control. It doesn’t. It just stacks pressure until something breaks."

Lindarion kept his voice flat. "Maybe I don’t like breaking things."

"That hasn’t stopped you before."

He didn’t respond.

Because this time was different.

The last breakthrough had ignited two affinities at once, fire and darkness. It took hours to put out. The arcane backlash left marks in his bones that still ached in storms.

And now? Now he could feel the next one circling him like a wolf. Waiting. Ready. He didn’t know which affinity would come this time. Divine? Time? Or worse, something the system hadn’t even named yet.

But Sylric didn’t know that.

Couldn’t.

Lindarion looked down at his hands. Still steady. But the mana beneath them wasn’t calm anymore.

"I’ll move when I’m ready," he said.

Sylric stood, creaking slightly at the knees.

"You won’t be."

He turned toward the stairs.

Then paused.

"And when it happens, make sure it’s somewhere that doesn’t catch fire."

Lindarion didn’t answer.

The system’s message pulsed quietly in the back of his mind.

[Core Resonance Stable—Breakthrough Available]

[Refined Core Requirements Met]

[Proceed?]

He closed his eyes.

—

He didn’t plan to do it.

Not really.

He just... stepped outside. Into the night air. Away from the fire, the walls, the noise of blades being checked and egos being compared.

The sky above was black and indifferent. Frost crawled up the edge of a barrel nearby. His breath didn’t fog. Too much internal heat.

The pressure had returned. He didn’t even need to meditate to feel it anymore. It was under his ribs. Down his spine. Behind his eyes. Heavy, like something waiting for permission.

He sat on a stone near the treeline.

Closed his eyes.

And for once—

He said yes.

No words spoken. Just intent.

[System Alert: Core Evolution Triggered]

[Initiating Advancement—Greater Core → Refined Core]

[Tier Increase: Mana Stabilization Protocol Engaged]

[Processing Affinity Surge...]

He gasped.

Mana didn’t flow. It detonated.

It tore through his limbs like wildfire, no, not fire. Not just fire.

It was lightning and divine heat. Darkness flared, flickered, and then bent into a cold spiral before being swallowed by something older.

Void?

No. That wasn’t it.

This was new.

This was structure.

Lines of mana formed, circles, lattices, ancient patterns he couldn’t name. They layered themselves behind his eyes, folded into his chest, and sank into the marrow of his bones.

His core pulsed once.

Twice.

Then shattered, quietly.

And reformed.

Smooth.

Refined.

No longer pulsing with raw pressure, but coiled, dense and deliberate. Not just power. Control.

And the system bloomed again behind his thoughts.

—

—[INFO]—

<Name: Lindarion Sunblade>

<Race: Elf>

<Age: 11>

<Gender: Male>

<Affinities: Void(2), Blood(2), Astral(2), Lightning(2), Fire(4), Divine(3), Darkness(5), Time(2), Water(2), Ice(2)>

<Mana Core: Refined Core (Master Tier)>

<Title: Elven Prince, Ouroboros’ Disciple>

<Affiliation: House Sunblade>

—[ATTRIBUTES]—

<Strength: 62>

<Dexterity: 91>

<Vitality: 54>

<Endurance: 68>

<Intelligence: 80>

<Wisdom: 69>

<Charisma: 42>

<Luck: 33>

<Mana: 152>

<Free Stat Points: 0>

—

He exhaled.

The breath came out steady.

Not smoking. Not glowing.

Just... clean.

The pressure was gone. Not lost, tamed.

He stood.

Nothing around him had changed.

But he had.

And whoever had carved that rune in the mountains?

They were about to find out what happened when you gave someone like him time to sharpen.

—

The cold had lost its teeth.

Not because the air had warmed, but because Lindarion didn’t feel it anymore. Not in the same way.

He walked back toward camp, boots silent on packed dirt, mana low and controlled under his skin like tempered wire. Each step felt sharper now. Not faster, cleaner.

He passed the treeline just as the last ember from the campfire sighed into darkness.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com