Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 259 - 259: Return (1)

Ashwing launched into the air, wings stretching wide.

His scales shimmered gold-black.

Lindarion raised his voice. "Jaren!"

The man turned as more stone shattered behind him.

Lindarion pointed.

"The rune is inside the foundation."

"Can we stop it?"

"Not unless we rip out half the building!"

Jaren looked at the front tower. At the guards. At the scattering nobles.

Then back at Lindarion.

"You came here to give us a warning," he said.

"And now I'm telling you," Lindarion answered, "you don't have time to vote on it."

Because whatever was under their feet?

It wasn't dormant anymore.

—

The screaming started low.

Not in the palace.

In the city.

From the southern slope, just past the market terraces.

It wasn't panic at first. Not fully.

Just shouts. Confusion. Clattering boots. A few steel-on-steel impacts that didn't make sense coming from the trade quarter.

Then—

Screams.

Real ones.

"Back! Get back!"

"They're in the streets!"

Jaren and Lindarion reached the main gates as the guards began to converge, shields drawn, formations loose but forming fast.

The city beyond the gates was chaos.

Civilians running uphill. Vendors shoving carts sideways to make room. Smoke curling from rooftops where there hadn't been fires five minutes ago.

And at the far edge of the central plaza—

They appeared.

Tall. Twisted.

Half-human in the worst ways.

Their torsos were still shaped like men, but too long. Muscles packed wrong. Arms jointed in ways that weren't natural. Their faces—

Most were still vaguely elven or human, but the skin was wrong. Stretched tight across jawlines, with black etchings seared into their necks.

Not glyphs.

Cores.

One pulsed at the collarbone of the lead creature.

A cracked crystal embedded in exposed flesh, glowing faintly red.

"They're trained," Lindarion muttered.

Ashwing dipped in low from above. "These aren't random mutations. They're bred."

'Great. Someone decided to play god and build an army with it.'

The mutant at the front moved first.

Fast.

Too fast for its size.

It grabbed a city guard by the throat, lifted him clean off the ground, and spoke.

Its voice was guttural, but clear.

"You should've stayed quiet."

Then it crushed the man's windpipe and dropped him.

Just like that.

Another guard charged. Steel blade to the chest.

The mutant didn't dodge. It caught the sword with one hand, bare fingers, and snapped it at the hilt.

Then punched the man once in the ribs.

He folded.

Didn't get back up.

"Orders?" a soldier near Jaren asked.

"Push them back," Jaren said. "Form a shield wall. Protect the exits. Civilians out first."

The guards moved instantly.

No flair.

Just training.

They surged down the steps in formation.

But the mutants weren't just strong.

They were coordinated.

One of them whistled, a high, sharp note.

And from behind the buildings, more came.

Seven. Ten. Thirteen.

Each one with a visible mana core pulsing in their skin.

Ashwing looped back toward Lindarion. "They're not random. They're not wandering. They're aiming for the palace."

"I know," Lindarion said.

"You going?"

He didn't answer.

He was already moving.

He leapt from the stairs, flames igniting at his heels, not showy, just enough to push forward in a burst of speed. His coat snapped behind him as lightning danced around his fingers.

The first mutant turned as he approached.

It smiled.

Lindarion didn't wait.

He slammed lightning into its gut, followed by a roundhouse kick to the side of its neck.

It staggered, stumbled, then lunged back with a speed that shouldn't belong to something that big.

'It's adapting—'

Lindarion ducked a claw swipe, slid under the next punch, then flared fire behind him, just enough to leave burn trails along its chest.

Ashwing dove again.

This time in mid-size form, his wings snapped open, mouth glowing with emberlight.

The creature lunged again, only to get caught mid-air by a blast of fire straight to the torso.

It screeched, reeled, and dropped.

But not dead.

Not even stunned.

It rolled once, stood again, and spat blood onto the ground.

"This is their base form?" Lindarion muttered.

Ashwing's voice sharpened. "They're bred to survive direct hits. We need to go for the cores."

Lindarion nodded.

The next time one moved, he targeted the crystal directly.

A short blast, precision fire laced with void energy.

The core cracked.

The body followed.

The creature collapsed like a sack of flesh and metal, limbs twitching in final delay.

"Hit the cores!" Lindarion shouted to the nearest guards. "Don't aim for the limbs!"

Jaren was already catching on.

Two Blades flanked him, both using wind magic to launch attacks at core height, using disruption bursts to knock their targets off balance.

Still—

There were too many.

Smoke rose now from more parts of the city.

A bell rang from the north tower.

Evacuation signal.

'They're trying to overwhelm the palace defenses first. Cut the head off before the army reacts.'

It was working.

The front plaza was slipping out of control.

Civilians were getting pulled back by guards—some screaming, others frozen.

Lindarion moved to intercept another incoming wave, but this time, three came at once.

He narrowed his eyes. "Fine."

He stepped forward—

—and let the power surge.

Not all of it.

Just enough to silence the air for half a second as lightning, fire, and ice surged outward like claws.

The three mutants halted.

One dropped.

The other two flanked, but Ashwing was already there, knocking one flat with a tail whip, claws digging through the soft joint near the neck.

Lindarion stabbed the third one through the shoulder, then twisted and snapped the embedded core with a flicker of dark energy.

More dropped from the rooftops behind.

Jaren's voice cut through the chaos.

"They're spreading faster than we can hold them!"

And Lindarion—

looked toward the heart of the city,

toward the glowing crack forming under the palace foundations,

and realized it wasn't just the city they were after.

It was what lay beneath it.

'The rune's active. This whole attack's just cover.'

And if he didn't reach it soon—

there might not be a capital left to save.