Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 261 - 261: Return (3)

Lindarion moved first.

He didn't think.

Didn't channel.

He just acted.

Lightning burst from his legs as he lunged forward, fire coiling behind his right hand, precision-wrapped and sharpened to a point. The rune-glow was still fading behind Dythrael, but Lindarion didn't care.

'Hit fast. Hit clean. No speeches.'

He aimed straight for the core, the chest.

His fist got close.

Then Maeven, white-haired bastard, always smiling, vanished from where he'd been standing.

And reappeared between them.

Lindarion barely registered the shift in pressure.

The next thing he knew, Maeven's fist was in his ribs.

Not a jab.

Not a counter.

A detonation.

Every sound in the chamber blinked out at once.

The world tilted.

Then cracked.

He was gone.

Through stone. Through marble. Through the palace floor.

Out.

Into open air.

His body snapped through a skybridge, tore across the upper walls of the northern keep, and kept going.

The city blurred past in fragments, rooftops, towers, a garden, someone screaming, and then he slammed into the side of a bell tower with enough force to ring it.

Then through it.

And down.

The impact cratered into a stone courtyard on the western slope of the capital.

Everything went quiet.

A pebble skittered down from the broken ledge above.

Ashwing's voice, low and tight in his mind. "You alive?"

'No idea.'

His back screamed.

His ribs didn't move right.

The ground tasted like blood and broken copper.

But he rolled.

He moved.

That meant he wasn't done yet.

'Alright. Lesson learned. Maeven hits harder than gravity.'

The sky above the city still glowed faint red.

Screams echoed again.

The pressure hadn't lifted.

He blinked the dust from his eyes and dragged himself up onto one elbow, coughing once.

A pair of soldiers stared at him from behind a shattered column, eyes wide.

One tried to speak.

Didn't manage words.

"Stay inside," Lindarion muttered.

His voice was hoarse.

But he was breathing.

Barely.

Ashwing landed beside him in lizard form, tiny wings twitching like they were trying not to show concern.

"Next time," Ashwing said, "we talk first."

Lindarion spat blood onto the stone and pushed himself to his feet.

"We're not done yet."

He looked up toward the broken ceiling high above.

Where the creature had taken its first step into the world.

And he had been thrown like a ragdoll.

'Round two. But this time, we don't play fair.'

—

Lindarion barely had time to center his stance before the air behind him cracked.

Not the sound of stone breaking.

Not lightning.

Just… a shift. A breath.

Then—

Pain.

Maeven appeared out of nothing, one hand grabbing Lindarion by the back of the neck, the other smashing into his side like a hammer. The hit crumpled his ribs. He gasped before the second blow hit, straight to the spine.

Everything bent.

He collapsed forward, coughing blood.

Ashwing hissed from the edge of the courtyard, but didn't move. Not yet. He'd learned that when Maeven smiled like that, it wasn't the time to charge in.

Maeven grabbed Lindarion by the collar and flung him back against a wall like he weighed nothing.

Lindarion crashed shoulder-first, cracking through the outer ring of a watch post. Wood splintered. Brick gave. He hit the ground in a roll and didn't get up fast enough.

Maeven was already there.

His foot came down on Lindarion's chest, not hard. But firm.

"You're bleeding slower than last time I saw you bleed," Maeven said, crouching. "Nice improvement."

Lindarion spat blood at his face.

Missed.

Maeven laughed. "There's that fire. Thought maybe you'd lost it."

Lindarion's head swam. Everything throbbed. His vision blurred at the edges.

'Focus. If I black out now, I won't wake up again.'

He reached up with one arm, slow. Deliberate.

Maeven didn't stop him. Just watched.

So Lindarion let his fingers twitch.

Fire sparked behind his palm.

Maeven grabbed his wrist and twisted.

The bone cracked.

The fire fizzled.

"No cheating," Maeven said. "Use your words."

"I'm gonna kill you," Lindarion said through clenched teeth.

"Great." Maeven grinned wider. "Then stop bleeding and stand up."

The foot lifted.

Maeven didn't move far. Just circled.

Like a wolf.

Ashwing was perched on the roof now, wings twitching, tail lashing. "Say the word," his voice whispered in Lindarion's mind.

"Not yet," Lindarion muttered.

Ashwing didn't argue. But the heat coming off him said he wasn't far from acting.

Maeven finally stopped pacing. "Let's talk about how this ends."

Lindarion coughed again and forced himself upright, one knee down, other leg planted. His whole body ached. His left arm hung wrong.

Maeven tilted his head. "Still no backup?"

"No," Lindarion said. "They're not part of this."

"Why not? You could use a few meat shields."

"They're not shields."

Maeven's smile flattened a little. "You've changed. I've watched you for a while. Four years ago, you wouldn't have hesitated to drag your whole squad into hell."

"That's the point," Lindarion said. "I dragged them through it. They almost died. I didn't."

"So you're doing this alone." Maeven cracked his knuckles. "Noble. And stupid."

"Yeah." Lindarion's knees locked. He stood up, half swaying. "But you're underestimating something."

Maeven blinked. "What's that?"

"I've had four years to get mad."

He threw the first punch. Again.

It didn't land.

Maeven ducked, laughed, and caught Lindarion mid-strike with an elbow to the jaw. The crack echoed. Blood sprayed. Lindarion stumbled back, dizzy, but not down.

Fire exploded around his fists. Real fire. Not for light.

Maeven raised a brow. "Better."

Lindarion moved in with a one-two feint, ducked under Maeven's first counter, and threw lightning into his ribs, close range. The impact flared. Maeven grunted and stepped back.

Not down.

Just back.

He shook his arm out like it had gone numb. "You're hitting harder."

Lindarion didn't answer.

He didn't have breath for it.

They clashed again. Punches. Kicks. Flames lashing through the air. Ashwing launched a bolt from the roof, silent and sharp. It missed, but it cut a gap through the courtyard.

Maeven twisted through it. Like he was dancing.

Lindarion followed with a sweeping strike.

And then he was gone again.

Maeven vanished.