Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

The silence had not been broken.Not truly.

It remained—a dense, suffocating thing—but now it carried something within it. A shift. A presence.

Lindarion did not turn immediately. He did not move.

The grip on his sword remained steady, but he did not draw.

Luneth's breath was slow, controlled. Her fingers curled around her daggers, yet she did not lift them.

Cassian, standing slightly ahead, was the last to react. His body tensed, his weight shifting ever so slightly. He had not yet looked.

He did not want to look.

A breath. A choice. A moment stretched thin.

Lindarion turned first.

And he saw it.

At the far edge of the place, where the street they had come from stretched into shadow, something stood.

Not a person. Not a beast.

A shape.

A figure draped in layers of something like cloth, something like shadow, something like the dust that was not dust beneath their feet.

It did not move.

It did not breathe.

It was only existing.

Cassian inhaled sharply, a breath that did not dare become words.

Luneth's posture remained deceptively loose, but Lindarion saw it—the precise shift of her balance, the tension gathering at the edges of her limbs. Preparation.

'This is starting to not look good at all.'

Lindarion's own thoughts remained sharp, cutting through the moment like the edge of a blade.

'It is watching us. Perhaps it has been watching ever since we entered.'

Cassian finally moved. Not a step back. Not a full retreat. But a slow, measured shift—his foot adjusting, his weight redistributing, his stance subtly aligning with theirs.

He understood.

Luneth understood.

Something had changed.

Not just in the place. Not just in the silence.

Something in the city itself.

The figure had not been there before.

And yet, it had never arrived.

There had been no footsteps. No movement. No shift in the air.

It had always been there.

They had simply failed to notice completely.

Cassian exhaled through his nose, quiet, deliberate. "So. On a scale of 'unsettling' to 'we need to leave immediately'—"

The figure moved.

Not forward. Not closer.

It just tilted its head.

And the silence changed.

A pressure settled against their thoughts, brushing against the edges of consciousness. Not words. Not a voice.

Recognition.

Cassian stiffened. His mouth opened—

The figure took a step.

'No chance.'

Lindarion moved instantly.

His hand rose, fingers brushing the seal on the parchment still clutched in his grip.

A flicker of something.

A memory, perhaps.

—"You will find no guide. No passage marked on any map. Only the remnants of what should never have been."

'Lady Valciel knew already…fuck.'

Luneth reacted a breath later, stepping subtly into formation beside him, shifting just enough to cover Cassian's left.

Cassian's throat bobbed. He did not look away from the figure. "Right. So we're fighting it, then?"

Lindarion did not answer immediately.

Because the figure had stopped.

Not mid-step. Not frozen in motion.

Simply ceased.

And the silence whispered between them once more.

Not words. Not intent.

'Is it not alone…?'

Lindarion's fingers twitched against the parchment.

The plaza was still.

The figure remained.

But now, there were others.

Not in the place.

Not in sight.

But they seemed to be watching the entire thing.

Lindarion exhaled slowly. "We do not fight yet."

Cassian's head turned slightly. His voice, quiet. "We don't?"

Luneth did not lower her guard, but she did not move to strike. "Explain."

Lindarion's gaze remained fixed ahead. The weight in the air had not lessened. The pressure had not faded. But neither had it advanced.

"…They are waiting…. I think."

Cassian's brow furrowed. "For what?"

Lindarion's grip on the parchment tightened.

'For us to attack.'

He did not speak the words aloud.

But he knew—deep in his bones, in the marrow of something older than reason—

This was not the beginning of the hunt.

This was the beginning of something else.

Something far worse.

"…We move forward," Lindarion said at last. "Slowly. Do not run."

Cassian did not like that.

Luneth did not argue.

Together, they took a step.

And the entire city seemed to watch.

The step they took was small.

Barely a shift in distance, barely a movement at all—yet the weight of it pressed against the world.

The city did not stir. It did not groan, did not whisper, did not sigh with the shifting of wind or time.

But it remembered.

Lindarion felt it—something deep, something vast. Not a presence, not a voice.

It was almost like an awareness.

The figure in the plaza did not move again. It did not react. It remained as it was—a shape, a point in space, a thing that should not be but was.

Yet, something had changed.

Luneth, moving in perfect step beside Lindarion, breathed with the precise control of a blade held steady. Her posture had not slackened, but she did not hesitate.

Cassian was the last to move. His breath, quieter now, shallower. His fingers did not touch his weapons, but they curled as though they wished to.

And the figures unseen, those lingering beyond the edge of sight, did not fade.

The silence stretched long and unbroken.

Lindarion took another step.

And the street ahead changed.

Not a shift. Not a flicker. No blur of motion, no trick of light.

Only a slight difference.

Where before there had been a path winding deeper into the hollow city, stretching toward the remnants of what once was—now there was something else.

A doorway.

Cassian inhaled sharply.

The door was open.

Not ajar. Not broken.

Open.

It had not been there before.

And yet, it had never arrived.

Luneth spoke first. "Not a good sign."

Cassian exhaled. "You think?"

'What the fuck is even happening..'

Lindarion did not answer immediately. He was confused as well. His fingers brushed the parchment in his grasp—the seal still unbroken.

The figures at the edge of awareness had not moved.

They had not advanced.

But they had not left.

They were still waiting.

Lindarion turned his gaze toward the doorway ahead. The space beyond was not lit, not dark.

It was simply open.

A threshold.

Cassian shifted. His voice was quieter now, something edged into his words. "We are not going in there."

Luneth did not look away from the door. "No?"

Cassian's eyes flicked back toward the plaza behind them. His throat bobbed.

The figure had not vanished.

It had not attacked.

It was still there.

But the weight of the unseen pressed even sharper now.

Cassian exhaled, a sound between frustration and resolve. "…Damn it."

'We need to move forward.'

Lindarion, standing between them, made his choice.

He stepped forward.

And behind them, the place was empty once more.

—

They stepped through.And the world remained.

Not shattered. Not broken.

Not the same.

Lindarion felt it first.

The ground was still beneath his feet, yet it was not. The walls still stood around them, yet they were wrong. Not ruins. Not age-worn structures.

Just—incorrect.

A street that did not curve yet was not straight. Buildings that framed the path too perfectly, yet still felt imprecise.

The city did not breathe.

But something beneath it did.

Luneth moved first, her presence sharp at Lindarion's side. Her hand hovered near her daggers, but she did not draw.

Not yet.

Cassian followed, slower. He did not speak.

Not out of hesitation.

Out of listening.

Something else had entered the silence.

A sound.

Distant. Subtle.

Not a footstep. Not a breath.

It was almost like a dragging.

Lindarion's pulse did not quicken. His grip did not tighten.

But he understood.

They were no longer being watched.

They were being followed.

Cassian's voice, lower than before: "There."

Luneth's head turned sharply.

At the far end of the street, just beyond the place where the walls curved in ways they should not—

Something moved.

Not a figure.

Not like the ones before.

This was different.

It did not stand. It did not walk.

It stretched.

It's playing tricks on us.

A form, a thing between one shape and another, dragging the weight of itself across stone that was not truly stone.

A body, elongated. Not by nature.

By wrongness.

A limb. Then another.

A head.

Not human. Not beast.

A skull without a face. A mouth without lips. A body that did not belong to what it had once been.

Lindarion exhaled slowly.

Luneth's fingers curled tighter.

Cassian's hand, finally, went to his sword.

The hunt had begun.

—

The thing stepped forward.

Not toward them. Not yet.

But across the space between.

A body that should not have been a body.

Limbs stretched too far, dragging themselves along a path that did not exist, shifting not with motion—

But with correction.

As if reality itself struggled to decide what it was.

Lindarion's breath did not change.

Luneth's weight remained balanced, precise.

Cassian swallowed once, then set his stance.

"Alright. That's—"

It lurched.

Cassian did not finish his sentence.

It did not leap. It did not charge.

It simply was—closer than before.

The skull—if it was a skull—tilted to the side.

Not in acknowledgment.

Not in thought.

But in recognition, he was recognizing them as an opponent.

'What the hell is this damn cursed thing.'

Lindarion's fingers brushed the edge of the parchment once more.

A whisper. A warning.

—You will not find it.

—It will find you.

A mouth opened where no mouth had been.

A sound—

Not a sound—

Pressed against their skulls.

Luneth reacted first.

Not with steel.

Not with flight.

With movement.

She stepped left, sharp, a single breath's difference before the thing snapped forward—

A limb—an absence of a limb—

Tearing through where she had stood.

Cassian moved a breath later, instinct more than strategy.

Lindarion did not move.

Not yet.

The creature dragged itself back, spine bending at an angle, body folding in ways that should not have been possible.

It did not reset. It did not recover.

Because it had not missed at all.

Lindarion understood that now.

"…It's testing us, I think." he said, voice even.

Luneth's expression did not change. But he saw it in her posture.

In the shift of her weight.

She agreed.

Cassian's grip on his sword tightened. "Testing what?"

Lindarion did not answer.

He did not need to.

Because the silence did.

A pressure, heavier than before.

It moved.

Suddenly—

And then—

It was already there.

'The hell—'

Lindarion's breath slowed.

His muscles coiled.

However Luneth moved first.

Her dagger left its sheath, a flicker of steel and ice.

A thin mist curled from the blade's edge as she slashed—fast, precise—aiming for the point where the creature's mass almost coalesced into something real.

The blade passed through.

Not like a weapon missing its mark.

Not like an illusion untouched.

It was worse.

The air warped.

Reality distorted—

Just enough that the dagger's path never existed in the first place.

Luneth's eyes widened.

A limb—if it could be called that—folded toward her.

She twisted, daggers raised—

Too slow.

The impact crashed into her side.

Not a strike.

Not a cut.

Something tore.

Not her body. Not her flesh.

Something else.

She convulsed.

Not from pain.

From absence.

For a moment—

She had not been at all.

As if she had never existed.

She hit the ground hard, breath ragged.

Cassian roared.

His crystalline sword lashed, raw mana pulsing from its core as he swung—

Not hesitation. Not doubt.

A full-force, armor-shattering blow—

And the creature did not move.

Crystal met flesh.

And the crystal shattered first without even a blink of hesitation.

Cassian barely had time to react.

A tendril of darkness unfolded—

Not fast. Not sudden.

Inevitable.

It did not strike.

It simply was.

And suddenly—

Cassian's knees buckled.

His strength vanished.

His body held firm.

But something within him—

His will. His presence.

It was being undone.

His hands trembled.

His heart pounded—too slow, too wrong.

His breath came shallow.

He was slipping.

Not dying.

Not even breaking.

It was something far worse than that. Something beyond their current understanding.

Luneth snarled.

She pushed herself up, blood running from her lips.

Mana surged into her blades.

Ice exploded—

Jagged, razor-edged spikes, colder than winter's heart, meant to impale.

And the ice—

Stopped completely.

Not melted.

Not shattered.

Just—

Stopped existing, like it didn't even exist in the first place. It was completely erased.

Luneth's stomach twisted.

Cassian swayed.

And finally—

Lindarion moved.

'Enough of this bullshit.'

His mana roared.

His fingers curled.

Power flooded the space around him—

[Sovereign's Dominion]

And the world bent.