Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 264 - 264: Runaway (2)

"I'll take them back," Jaren muttered. "You scout ahead."

Lindarion hesitated. His breath caught on a broken rib.

But he nodded.

Then vanished.

Darkness affinity rippled across his skin like a low hum, shrouding him in a loose shadow that blurred his outline. He darted up the collapsed frame of a wall and landed in a crouch on the next roof, scanning the streets.

What he saw made his stomach tighten.

Three mutants.

One wore half a uniform. Or had. The cloth was shredded, but the metal insignia still clung to its shoulder, some poor captain, twisted into something with too many joints.

They weren't shambling.

They moved like soldiers.

The lead one sniffed the air.

"Eastward sweep. Two blocks. Target pattern zero-three."

They spoke.

Not fluent. Not with emotion. But with intent.

'They're trained.'

Lindarion dropped down silently to the far side of the roof and reached for the bond.

"Jaren. South alley. You've got company heading your way."

There was a pause.

Then: "How fast?"

"Twelve seconds."

Jaren didn't curse. Just said, "Copy."

By the time Lindarion vaulted back onto the street, Jaren had already tucked the kids into a cellar hatch and sealed it with a mana lock.

"Out of the way," he said, sword unsheathed. "We fight here."

Lindarion stood beside him. His hands were already glowing, right with fire, left with lightning.

"You sure you're up for this?" Jaren asked.

Lindarion gritted his teeth. "No. But I'm still standing."

The mutants rounded the corner.

They didn't hesitate.

Lindarion didn't either.

He launched forward, fire lancing in a tight spiral around his fist, just enough to blind them for half a second.

Lightning cracked from his off hand and caught one across the chest. The creature staggered. Didn't fall.

Jaren moved in behind him.

His blade wasn't fast.

It was efficient.

Every strike was clean, deliberate, lethal. He didn't waste energy. Didn't shout. Just cut.

The mutant he dropped twitched once. Then went still.

The other two circled.

"You're not human," one hissed at Lindarion.

"No," he said flatly. "I'm worse."

He ducked low, slid between them, then sent a burst of lightning straight into one's spine.

Jaren decapitated the other mid-turn.

Then silence again.

Just breathing.

Ashwing hissed. "They're scouting."

"I know."

Lindarion stepped over the fallen forms, eyes narrowed.

"Means there's a command unit," Jaren muttered. "Or worse."

Lindarion stared east.

That was the direction the pulse had come from. Where the ground still shook. Where the red glow hadn't dimmed.

'We're not getting out of this clean.'

"Come on," he said. "We help who we can. Then we get to the fallback line."

"And after that?" Jaren asked.

Lindarion didn't answer right away.

Because he didn't know.

Because if this wasn't even the full assault—

Then they hadn't seen real war yet.

Not even close.

—

Jaren swung first.

The next wave wasn't three this time. It was ten.

No waiting. No warning. Just a sudden rush of clawed limbs and warped faces from both ends of the alley.

Half-human, all wrong, bodies twisted like they'd been melted and reshaped mid-fight. Two of them wore the remnants of guard cloaks. One still had a sword lodged through its shoulder. It didn't seem to care.

"Go loud," Jaren muttered.

Lindarion didn't need permission.

Lightning surged from his hand and split the first three down the middle, the crack of it echoing off the buildings hard enough to rattle broken glass.

He didn't stop moving.

Fire burst from his heel as he spun, kicking another mutant straight into the stone wall. It didn't get up.

Jaren ducked low and cleaved one in half.

The blade didn't spark.

Didn't glow.

It just cut. Clean. Fast.

They fought like they'd done this before.

They hadn't.

But it didn't matter now.

Ashwing growled in Lindarion's ear. "More incoming."

"How many?"

"Too many."

Jaren grabbed the nearest kid from the hatch and threw a nod to the other. "You get her."

Lindarion scooped the girl up with one arm. She didn't scream. She just clung to his coat like it was armor.

"I thought you said two minutes," Lindarion muttered.

"I was wrong."

The swarm behind them shrieked, the sound twisting in the air like claws against steel.

They ran.

No flourish.

No dramatic poses.

Just sprinting through smoke, dodging falling debris and ducking past broken carts as the sound of inhuman voices chased their heels.

They didn't slow down.

A man stumbled out of a collapsed doorway on their left. Older. Bleeding from his scalp. His wife, maybe, was pulling at him, trying to move him toward the back exit.

Jaren veered immediately. "Get up."

The man blinked, dazed.

Jaren grabbed him with one hand and yanked him upright.

Lindarion tossed a glance over his shoulder. The alley was narrowing.

"We don't have long."

"I know," Jaren said, eyes flicking to the pair. "Keep going."

Lindarion didn't argue.

He adjusted the girl on his arm and bolted ahead, boots slamming against the cobblestone.

Every corner burned.

Smoke choked the air. Not thick enough to blind, but enough to sting. Enough to remind you this wasn't a fight.

It was a loss.

Ashwing flared once on his shoulder. "Right!"

Lindarion ducked into a side path just as a cart exploded at the intersection behind them. Fire and wood shrapnel tore through the air.

He didn't stop.

The fallback line was five blocks east.

Five blocks of war.

—

They made it to the wall.

Eventually.

A half-shattered section near the eastern tower had become the exit point, makeshift barricades stacked high, mages throwing up thin shields to cover the fleeing civilians. Soldiers were shouting. Some were bloodied. Some were already dead.

Jaren dragged two civilians with him.

Lindarion followed, the girl still tight in his arms, her face buried in his chest.

The commander at the gate spotted them and waved them through.

"This the last of it?" he shouted.

Jaren didn't answer.

Lindarion looked back once.

Just once.

The city was dying.

Not in fire.

Not even in blood.

But in silence.

You could hear it in the pauses. In the way the screams had dulled. In the way no one was calling for orders anymore.

'They broke us.'

But not all of them.

Not yet.

Jaren barked something to a medic and turned back to Lindarion.

"We're pulling out. North route. Hills are safer. You good?"

"No."

"Can you stand?"

"Barely."

"Then we move."

Lindarion set the girl down. She grabbed his sleeve but let go as a soldier ushered her to the evac line.

He flexed his hand once.

Still shaking.

Still whole.

Ashwing coiled tight around his arm. "One hell of a city visit."

'One hell of a war starting.'

They walked.

Not fast.

Not dramatic.

Just enough.

Because survival didn't need to be loud.

It just needed to be done.