Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

Lindarion didn’t answer at first.

His system did.

[Historical Tag Identified: "Devourer of Dawn"] 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

[Translating...]

[Equivalent Modern Reference: Dythrael]

[Status: CONFIRMED]

Nysha read his expression. "That... is not what I wanted to hear."

Ashwing buried his face in Lindarion’s hair. "Can we PLEASE go back to normal forests? Friendly forests? Forests that only try to kill you a little bit?!"

Lindarion’s voice was quiet. "This is the site of his first manifestation. Before he was sealed. Before he became... what he is now."

Nysha straightened. "Why is it shifting into our path? This graveyard wasn’t here. It appeared."

Lindarion looked up.

The horizon twisted again—

like the desert was bending to make room for something.

"It’s not appearing randomly," he said.

"It’s guiding us."

Ashwing froze. "The desert is... welcoming us? Why would it do that?!"

Nysha answered grimly. "Because whatever is buried under this place wants Lindarion to walk over it."

Before Lindarion could reply, the monoliths vibrated.

Low.

Deep.

Resonant.

The sand flowed away from them in spirals, exposing more stone—

more runes—

more forgotten scars of ancient war.

Then the hum deepened.

And one monolith cracked.

A thin fracture.

Straight down its center.

Nysha stepped back instantly. "That’s not natural."

Runes lit up beneath their feet—

faint, then bright, then blinding.

Ashwing screeched. "LINDARION—WHAT DID YOU STEP ON?!"

"I didn’t step on anything—this is activating on its own!"

The crack split wider.

Then a voice—

not the fissure’s voice,

but a different one—

rumbled from beneath the sands:

"Child of Eldorath... you walk the battlefield of your ancestor’s sins."

Nysha swore. "This is bad. This is VERY bad."

The monolith shattered.

Sand exploded outward.

Something enormous stirred beneath the earth—

a shadow coiling, rising—

Ashwing clung to Lindarion’s ear. "WHY DOES EVERYTHING WE MEET HAVE TO BE HUGE?!"

Lindarion’s wings flared behind him—

half-light, half-shadow, instinctual.

Not fully manifested, but ready.

Nysha unsheathed her blade.

The sand collapsed inward.

And from the grave beneath the monolith...

a colossal skeletal hand emerged.

Then a second.

Then the creature pulled itself free—

a titanic armored corpse,

its skull carved with ancient Sylvarion glyphs,

its ribcage glowing with dim, dying embers of divine mana.

A War Titan.

One of the constructs from the Demi-Human age.

Built to contain Dythrael.

Buried where it failed.

Its single remaining eye socket turned toward them.

It recognized Lindarion’s blood.

"You... should not exist."

The titan took one step—

the desert shook.

Another step—

the air split.

Nysha’s eyes widened. "This thing isn’t welcoming us—IT’S TESTING YOU."

Ashwing: "WHYYYYYYYY—"

Lindarion clenched his jaw.

His aura ignited.

"Then I’ll pass."

The titan’s shadow fell over them like a collapsing sky. Sand poured from its ribcage in thick streams as it straightened its cracked spine, each movement grinding stone against stone. Its armor—what remained of it—gleamed with old battle scars, thick gouges left by weapons that no longer existed and power that should have faded with the First Epoch.

Its lone eye socket burned with a faint ember of pale blue mana.

Not alive.

But not dead either.

A relic clinging to the instinct of a war long buried.

Nysha moved first, springing aside as the titan’s massive hand slammed into the ground where she’d stood. The impact created a crater, sand exploding outward in a wave that rattled the nearest monoliths.

"Don’t let it corner you!" she shouted.

"I’m trying not to!" Ashwing yelled back, darting wildly around Lindarion’s head, wings buzzing with panicked energy. "Do you see the SIZE of this thing?! We’re dust mites to it!"

Lindarion stepped forward instead of retreating. His wings flickered into existence, shadowed light arching behind him like ethereal blades. His aura poured outward in ripples, bending the sand around him in smooth swirling currents that formed a defensive halo.

The titan recognized the energy.

Even in its half-dead state, it felt the World Tree’s resonance, and something older.

"Dragon-blood vessel detected," it intoned, voice grinding like a millstone turning against rusted gears. "Corrective action: termination."

It lunged.

The ground shook in a shockwave, and Lindarion blurred to the side, his system boosting his reflexes instinctively.

[Active Skill: Temporal Slip — Partial Activation]

[Processing: 12%]

[Effect: Increased reaction speed]

Time didn’t slow; his perception accelerated.

He swung his blade upward, cutting a black-gold arc across the titan’s wrist. The metal split with a flash, revealing decaying mana-conduits inside. The titan reeled from the force, stumbling but not falling.

Nysha took the opening, sprinting up its exposed forearm with Sylvarion grace. She slid under its elbow joint, stabbing upward with her curved dagger. Her strike found purchase, but the titan’s armor was built to withstand demi-god warfare, her blade barely pierced the rune-carved plating.

Ashwing puffed his chest, inhaled deeply, then exhaled a small burst of twilight flame at the titan’s face. It flared violet-gold, beautiful and utterly ineffective.

The titan didn’t even blink.

"That was rude," Ashwing said defensively, watching the flame sputter out. "I’m underdeveloped. It’s a medical condition."

The titan reached for Nysha, its fingers slicing down through the air. She leapt off its arm with a twist, landing lightly on the sand beside Lindarion.

"This isn’t a normal construct," she said, panting slightly. "It’s fighting on instinct, pure programmed aggression."

"It’s trying to judge something," Lindarion murmured. "It’s responding to my mana."

Ashwing’s wings drooped. "So we’re in a ’punch Lindarion until he passes the divine trauma test’ situation again. Perfect. Great. Love it."

The titan launched another attack, scooping up a massive handful of sand and flinging it like a stormfront. The grains turned into a cutting barrage, sharpened by residual mana. Lindarion raised a shimmering barrier of condensed light-shadow. The sandstorm impacted hard, rattling the shield, but failed to pierce it.

The titan noticed the shield’s composition.

Its eye flared brighter.

"Aether-weave detected. Classification: anomalous. Escalating force."

Its chest opened.

Not fully, just a crack.

Enough to expose the dead core within.

Cold blue energy pulsed, then gathered. A beam began to charge, humming with the destructive potential of ancient demi-human warfare.

Nysha cursed under her breath. "If that fires, it’ll wipe out everything in a straight line for miles."

"Then it can’t fire," Lindarion said.

He moved.

Fast.

Much faster than he had before.

His wings snapped open fully this time, manifesting with far more solidity than usual. He shot forward like a bolt of dusk-colored lightning, leaving a wake of distorted mana behind him.