Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 281 - 281: Attack (3)

The punch bent sideways, slipping clean past his shoulder like gravity had tilted twenty degrees.

Eldrin was already turning, already striking with his other hand, sunlight snapping across his knuckles.

But Dythrael vanished again.

Not blinked.

Not teleported.

Skipped.

He reappeared ten meters back, floating still, like he'd never moved.

Eldrin clenched his jaw.

Maeven's voice drifted down from the ruined balcony. "You're good, Sunblade. But not good enough."

Eldrin didn't look at him.

He kept his eyes on Dythrael.

'He doesn't dodge. He bends time just far enough to step around the blow. He's not thinking in seconds. He's thinking in slices.'

Then the worst thought came.

'If he's this strong… then he has to be the leader—'

The crater beneath his boots deepened as his mana surged again.

Not recklessly.

But enough.

"Come down," he said flatly.

Dythrael blinked. Slowly.

Then—

He did.

He stepped forward.

And the entire world tilted around him.

Time bent again.

Not by accident.

Not a small ripple.

But a field.

Everything went quiet, too quiet. The fire in the upper towers slowed. Screams behind the courtyard blurred into strange echoes.

Even the sun seemed to dim.

And Dythrael walked across the broken stones like it wasn't his fault that the air wasn't moving anymore.

Eldrin could feel it.

He'd fought a thousand mages. A hundred high-bloods. Warlords. Cultists. Even demons, once.

This wasn't that.

This wasn't a fight.

This was an adjustment.

A reshaping.

And it was only just beginning.

'If I fall here…'

He didn't finish the thought.

He didn't have to.

Because from the edge of the courtyard, the second wave of guards, more disciplined this time, appeared.

Five dozen soldiers. Some glowing with fire. Others holding back, waiting for an opening.

A few of the older knights had luminous-tier pressure. Strong. Veterans.

"Protect the king!" someone shouted.

Too late.

Maeven lifted one hand.

And folded the world again.

—

The second wave never touched the ground.

Eldrin saw it.

In fragments.

Swords raised. Armor glinting. Faces full of fury, of duty, of hope.

They leapt from the stairwells and platforms like they could change the outcome through sheer will.

They never got the chance.

Maeven didn't blink.

He just lifted one hand again.

The motion looked lazy.

But it wasn't.

It was deliberate.

Space cracked open in a horizontal slash across the courtyard, like someone had taken a blade and peeled the world back.

There was no noise.

Just absence.

An entire line of men, dozens, vanished. Folded. Cut down the middle and turned inside out in a blink.

No blood.

No bodies.

Only the ripple.

Only the wrongness of what space wasn't supposed to do.

Eldrin's breath caught.

He'd seen brutal deaths. Had delivered them.

But this?

This was methodical.

Cold.

Unnatural.

From the ramparts, someone screamed a name.

Then another wave of guards rushed forward again, desperate, reckless.

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The ripple caught them, too.

Their weapons clattered to the stone seconds before their bones did.

Gone.

Maeven exhaled like he was bored.

Eldrin's hands curled into fists.

'He's not wasting energy. He's not even trying.'

A flicker of movement, far left.

Seraphine.

She'd been at the command post, but now she was here, moving like a spear in motion, black uniform trailing behind her, dual sabers pulled and blazing with combustion mana.

She moved faster than most ever saw.

But Maeven saw her.

His head turned, slowly.

Like he'd been waiting.

Then, casually, he extended a finger toward her.

The space in front of her bent.

Just a shimmer.

Barely noticeable.

But her footing crumbled like the world twisted under her boots. Seraphine flipped in midair, landing hard on her shoulder and skidding across the outer court.

She rolled to her feet, already slashing, but Maeven didn't strike.

He just walked toward her.

Step by step.

Each one pushing her further away from Dythrael.

'He's keeping her busy. That's his only job here. And he's good at it.'

Dythrael hadn't moved.

He stood near the crater where Eldrin had landed, arms behind his back again, expression unchanged.

The wind had died down.

Even the fires in the outer towers had slowed.

Like time was… slouching.

"I told you," Dythrael said, his voice quiet. "We're not here for you."

Eldrin stood taller.

"I don't care."

Dythrael tilted his head a fraction.

"We'll take the Queen," he said evenly. "And then your son."

The words hit harder than the earlier kick.

He didn't raise his voice.

He didn't scream.

But the heat behind Eldrin's ribs began to climb.

'Melion. And Lindarion.'

They weren't just names.

They were his everything.

He looked around.

No more guards.

Just smoldering stone, the stink of magic-burn, and Maeven trading slow steps with Seraphine in the distance.

"Do you understand what you're doing?" Eldrin said, low.

"I do," Dythrael answered.

"You're forcing my hand."

"Your hand was never on the table."

Wrong answer.

Something inside Eldrin snapped.

The solar affinity, until now tightly restrained, roared to life like a second sun had cracked inside his chest.

The courtyard lit up.

Gold light exploded from under his boots, swallowing the bloodstains, the broken stone, the crater itself.

It didn't rise.

It expanded.

Heat pulsed outward in a perfect circle.

Not chaotic.

Not wild.

Just absolute.

Like dawn forcing shadows out of every crevice.

Dythrael didn't flinch.

But he narrowed his eyes.

Eldrin's coat tore at the seams as his aura surged, a wall of burning gold, each strand of power honed like a blade.

No runes.

No chants.

Just sunlight.

Refined. Pure. Alive.

His voice, quiet now, quiet enough to carry through the heat, cut across time itself:

"I will cross any line to protect my family."

Then the air shattered.

Light burst in a perfect sphere around him, sharp, searing, precise.

The Sun Domain opened.

Not a spell.

Not a construct.

But a space, an affinity-forged reality.

The garden, the broken pillars, even the air itself bent into something else. The sky above shimmered as if glass were being held to fire.

Every shadow vanished.

Time stuttered.

The pressure turned inward, like the heat itself had purpose now.

Dythrael floated just at the edge of it.

And for the first time—

Just barely—

He leaned back.

Not out of fear.

Not even surprise.

But acknowledgement.

Eldrin stepped forward, eyes blazing gold.

"Come take them."