Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 256: Breaking Out

Lindarion didn’t gather mana. Didn’t prep some long, dramatic spell.

He just punched the door.

One hit.

Clean. Focused.

A ripple of lightning snapped out from his knuckles, and the wood cracked from the center outward, burned around the edges, snapped at the hinges. The rune etched into the ward flared white once, then died.

The door sagged inward.

Ashwing uncoiled. "That felt good, didn’t it?"

"Little bit."

Lindarion stepped into the hallway.

Still quiet.

Still empty.

’They didn’t even post a runner. No one watching the door. No one listening.’

He moved fast now, walking with purpose—back toward the inner court.

Two turns.

No one.

Left again.

Silence.

’Something’s wrong.’

Ashwing crawled up to his shoulder, smaller than usual, not for stealth. Just tension.

Lindarion passed the northern arch and spotted the first living soul: a servant, maybe seventeen, carrying an empty tray.

The boy looked up.

Then immediately stepped back. "You’re not supposed to be out—"

"Where is everyone?"

"I—I don’t know—"

Lindarion didn’t slow.

The boy didn’t follow.

’No alarm. No sirens. Just... gone.’

He reached the spiral stair leading up to the high chambers, Leonhardt’s wing.

Blocked.

A ward shimmered across the steps, this one fresh. Crude. Sloppy.

Meant to stop someone in a hurry.

He looked at it once, narrowed his eyes, and pressed his hand through the shimmer.

It resisted.

Then shattered.

Not exploded. Not cracked.

Just broke.

Like it had never meant to stand against someone like him.

Ashwing said nothing.

Because whatever was waiting upstairs—

It wasn’t diplomacy anymore.

It was avoidance.

And Lindarion had run out of patience.

—

Lindarion reached the top of the stairs, pushed through the second archway, and stepped into the high corridor that led to the royal wing.

Polished stone.

Banner-lined walls.

Empty halls.

The kind of silence that was too clean. Like someone had cleared the chessboard and left the king behind as bait.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t trust it.

And he wasn’t about to stop.

Not this time.

Footsteps sounded from the far end, calm, slow, deliberate.

He didn’t need to guess.

Jaren Vell appeared from the hallway on the left, already removing his gloves, rolling them in his hand.

Same gray eyes. Same tired calm.

Still wearing the copper-accented armor of the King’s Blade.

Still the man who stopped him the last time.

Lindarion didn’t slow.

Jaren raised a hand.

"Stop right there."

Lindarion stopped.

Not because of the command.

Because of what wasn’t said.

He looked at Jaren’s stance, shoulders back, fingers flexed slightly.

’He’s expecting me to fight.’

"I broke the door," Lindarion said. "No one ever came back."

"I know."

"You knew?"

Jaren didn’t nod. Didn’t explain. Just said, "I told them you wouldn’t wait long."

"You weren’t wrong."

"I’m not wrong about a lot of things."

Lindarion let out a breath and shook his head.

"Where’s the king?"

"Not here."

"Don’t lie to me."

Jaren stepped forward. No aggression. No heat.

Just finality.

"I’m not lying. He’s not here."

Lindarion narrowed his eyes.

"Then who ordered the door sealed?"

Jaren paused. "Edric."

’Of course it was.’

Lindarion looked at the floor for a second, jaw tight.

He felt Ashwing shift on his shoulder, tail flicking.

"You knew," Lindarion said. "And you didn’t stop him."

"I warned him not to try it," Jaren said simply. "He didn’t listen."

"That’s a nice excuse."

"No. It’s the truth." Jaren rubbed the back of his neck like he was tired. "You think I enjoy being dragged into this? Half the time I’m babysitting nobles who think they’re smarter than the people bleeding for them. You’re not the only one who’s tired, Lindarion."

Lindarion didn’t answer.

Jaren stepped closer.

"You think I don’t know what’s coming?" he said. "I’ve read the briefings. I’ve seen the damage reports. I’ve had to send my own people to clean up messes you should’ve been invited to prevent."

"Then why keep me out?"

"Because you’re not the king. And because you’re not subtle. And because Edric is a manipulative bastard who thinks putting a leash on a dragon means he’s in charge of the fire."

Lindarion blinked once.

It was the first time someone had just said it like that.

Simple.

No riddles.

No veiled insults.

Just facts.

Jaren kept going.

"I’m not here to stop you. Not really. I’m here because if you blow through another door, I’ll be stuck doing paperwork for a week."

Lindarion finally exhaled.

Then took one step past him.

Jaren didn’t move. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

But his voice followed.

"He’ll be back by nightfall. If you want to talk to him, do it then. Not now. Not through guards."

Lindarion looked over his shoulder.

"Is Edric still in the palace?"

"Yes."

"Then I’m not waiting until nightfall."

Jaren sighed. "Didn’t think you would."

He didn’t stop him.

Not this time.

Because maybe, just maybe, he finally realized what the rest of the court had forgotten.

Lindarion wasn’t here to play a role.

He was here to end one.

—

Lindarion moved fast.

No more waiting. No more locked doors.

He walked through the halls like he belonged there, because he did. And because anyone who thought otherwise had already lost their chance to stop him.

Ashwing stayed silent on his shoulder, curled tight and alert.

’Edric sealed that room. That wasn’t some clerical mistake. That was on purpose.’

And now, he was going to find out why.

He didn’t storm into the council chamber. Didn’t kick the door in.

He walked.

Steady. Quiet. Fast.

The guards at the west passage glanced up when he turned the corner, but didn’t speak.

One even looked away.

He reached the administrative wing. Passed two scribes. One tried to offer a greeting, but froze the second she recognized him.

Good.

He followed the corridor down and around, past the long map hall, and stopped in front of Edric Kane’s office.

The door was open.

Of course it was.

Because people like Edric didn’t expect consequences. They expected compliance.

Lindarion walked in without knocking.

Edric was seated at his desk, pen in hand, scribbling over some sort of supply ledger. He didn’t look up at first.

"I thought I made myself clear," he said, tone flat. "You don’t have standing to barge—"

Lindarion shut the door behind him.

Hard.

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