Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 282 - 282: Attack (4)

The Sun Domain didn't blind. It didn't dazzle.

It revealed.

Everything within its boundary, every stone, breath, tremor, was laid bare. The world inside it burned in sharp lines. No illusions. No shadows. Just truth.

Eldrin stood at the center, the heat folding around him like a second skin. Flames licked the soles of his boots without singing. Light pooled behind his eyes like a rising tide.

'He should be flinching,' Eldrin thought.

'Or shielding. Or reacting at all.'

But Dythrael?

He didn't even blink.

The man, or whatever he was, remained where he stood, hands behind his back, not even stepping away from the rising corona of heat.

He should have been sweating. Skin cracking. Mana thrashing to push against the environmental shift. That's what anyone else would've done in this kind of pressure.

But Dythrael didn't look uncomfortable.

He looked bored.

Eldrin's fingers twitched.

Sunlight flared in the seams of his coat. Steam coiled from the earth. Above, the sky bent into a fixed arc, gold and molten, like a second dome pressing down from above.

Still, Dythrael stood there like none of it mattered.

He finally spoke.

"You call this a Domain?"

His voice echoed, not off the walls. Off the mana itself.

Eldrin's jaw clenched. "You're standing in the heart of it. Does it feel small to you?"

Dythrael tilted his head.

"No. It's strong. Controlled. Refined."

Then, with a faint curl of his lip: "But it's still just fire."

Eldrin's aura cracked wider in response, sunlight surging into lances behind him. His shadow stretched tenfold across the scorched stone.

"You think this is just heat?" he said. "You don't understand what you've stepped into."

"I understand perfectly," Dythrael said. "I just don't care."

The words cut harder than a blade.

Not arrogance. Not rage.

Just indifference.

Eldrin exhaled. Slowly.

The light behind his eyes steadied. The space around his body stopped flickering. The whole domain hardened.

Golden rays turned into lines, structured, organized, ready to converge.

No theatrics. No warnings.

Just purpose.

He raised one hand, two fingers lifted, and the beams moved. Precision strikes, blades of sunlight sharper than any steel, honed to a point from decades of training, dozens of battles, the full weight of a king's fury.

They came from every angle.

Fast. Silent.

Dythrael didn't move.

He just… disappeared.

No teleportation.

No blur of motion.

One second he was there.

The next, he was behind Eldrin.

The king twisted, instinct, not thought, and launched a pulse of radiant light back over his shoulder.

The burst slammed into empty air. The heat from it turned the trees at the edge of the domain to cinders instantly.

But no target.

Dythrael's voice came from his right. "Your reactions are impressive."

Eldrin spun again, too late.

A hand gripped his shoulder.

Not hard. Just… firm.

"I'd say it's an honor to meet the last of the Sunblade kings," Dythrael said, voice quiet. "But you're not the one we're here for."

The mana beneath Eldrin's skin snarled to life.

Flames surged along his spine, launching him forward in a flash of white-gold.

He twisted mid-air, threw a spear of compressed light—

And Dythrael caught it.

With two fingers.

No shift of balance. No wince. Just stillness.

Then—

He snapped.

One soft sound.

That was all.

And the world came apart.

The Sun Domain, his masterpiece, his last shield, the full embodiment of his will, shattered.

It didn't break with thunder.

It didn't collapse with screams.

It folded, neatly, like a tent collapsing into itself. The heat vanished. The sky returned to grey. The ground stopped glowing. The blades of light turned to dust.

One blink.

And everything was gone.

Eldrin stood there, heart thundering, lungs full of smoke.

The air felt cold.

Too cold.

His hands trembled, just slightly. He clenched them into fists.

Dythrael stepped forward, brushing dust from his sleeve.

"Your control is beautiful," he said. "But this isn't a fight you can win."

Eldrin didn't answer.

He couldn't.

'He shattered it like it was nothing.'

Behind him, the main estate doors groaned open.

Maeven's silhouette appeared in the arch.

"Found her," Maeven said.

Dythrael nodded once, then turned to Eldrin one last time.

"We'll take Melion now."

Then he walked past him.

Like Eldrin was already gone.

—

The light was gone.

Not all of it.

But the divine shape of it, the form he'd held like a second skin, had vanished. Just open sky now. Ordinary air. Like the world had shrugged off his magic like an old coat.

Eldrin stood still, breath shallow.

Dythrael didn't glance back. He walked as if there were no one left to fear in this world. Behind him, Maeven's boots clicked softly against the scorched stone path.

'Melion,' Eldrin thought. 'They're here for her. She's still inside.'

His fingers twitched at his side.

His right arm burned from shoulder to wrist, too much internal backlash, too fast. He could barely lift it. And yet…

His left hand reached under the long folds of his coat.

He unlatched the hidden brace sewn to the inside lining. Pulled it loose.

A black sheath slid free. For a smoother reading experience, visit NovelFire.

Simple. Dull. Wooden handle worn from years of neglect.

There were no sigils. No carvings. Just an old blade older than memory.

He hadn't touched it since Lindarion was born.

Not even when the war ended.

It wasn't a royal weapon.

It was a family one.

Passed down from one Sunblade to another, not for battle. Not for triumph. But for endings.

He heard Seraphine yell something from behind the burning hedges.

Didn't register the words.

He stepped forward.

"Maeven," Dythrael said ahead. "Take her. I'll join you soon."

"Sure," Maeven said. Still smirking. Still sounding like this was a game.

Eldrin took another step.

Dythrael stopped.

His head turned slightly.

"You're still standing."

Eldrin unsheathed the blade.

It made no sound.

No gleam of metal.

Just presence.

A pressure that slid into the air like a second sun had opened its eyes.

"I said," Eldrin rasped, "I'd cross any line to protect my family."

Dythrael turned fully.

Saw the blade.

Paused.

That was enough.

Eldrin moved.