Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

The students did not line up.

They drifted, like slow prey nearing a trap they couldn't see.

'It's not going to be that bad…right?'

Lindarion didn't move from his seat. His eyes were on the dummies—each standing as still as statues, yet humming faintly with barely restrained force. Their joints clicked, once. A subtle warning.

"First pair," Nyx called, not even looking up from her notes. "Holt. Hargrave."

Cassian let out a long, thin groan, dragging himself up like he was headed to the gallows. Elara stomped up beside him, arms already crossed.

"Why do I have to go with crystal-boy?" she snapped.

"Because I don't trust you not to explode," Nyx said. "Together, you might balance out into one functional mage."

"That's not—"

The dummies moved.

Cassian's reaction was a full second too slow. The spear caught his shoulder with a flat clang, sending him staggering sideways with a yelp.

Elara, meanwhile, reflexively iced the ground—which might've helped if the dummy hadn't simply leapt over it and lightly cuffed her on the forehead with the hilt of a saber.

Cassian wheezed. "Okay, we're learning. We're learning the exact speed of humiliation."

Nyx's voice was perfectly even. "Next."

Two more students. Valen Nighthollow and Victor Blackwood.

Victor took his stance seriously—hands wide, core flexed, already pushing mana into his limbs. Valen didn't look ready at all. His hands hung at his sides, lazy and loose.

They lasted longer.

Victor's water burst in a coiled arc to parry the attack. Sloppy but fast. Valen? His wind thread snapped to life in a spiral around him, slicing the dummy's wrist mid-strike. It missed him by inches.

"Huh," Victor muttered after. "Not bad."

Valen didn't respond.

But the flicker in his eyes said he wasn't surprised either.

More pairs went up. Failures. A few scrapes. A bruised ego here and there. Nikolai Veltoran trembled so hard his thread never even formed. Adam Pierce flared too hot and melted part of the dummy's hand but still took a strike to the gut.

And then—

"Lindarion."

Silence.

He stood before his name was finished.

Nyx didn't pair him.

She didn't need to.

The dummy activated before he even reached the center of the circle.

And Lindarion moved.

No posture. No visible aura. Just a flicker.

The thread coiled from his palm in one clean arc—thinner than hair, tighter than steel. It didn't lash at the dummy. It folded into it, like the dummy was already expecting to fall.

There was no impact. No strike.

Only a second of stillness—and then the dummy's right arm collapsed at the elbow, unmoored.

Nyx raised a brow.

Cassian clapped once. "Okay. Show off."

Elara scoffed. "Whatever."

Murmurs began to rise. Some from the back rows. Jack Valerian didn't even hide his glare. Rowan leaned close, whispering something sharp behind a cupped hand.

Luneth, however, said nothing.

She just watched Lindarion as he returned to his seat. Her eyes were unreadable. Not admiration. Not envy.

Curiosity. Precise. Cold. Measuring.

Lindarion sat down. His hand didn't shake. His breathing hadn't changed. But he could feel it—again—the atmosphere shifting around him.

Just like the dining hall.

'Let them watch.'

Nyx clicked her tongue.

"Well. That was barely acceptable. The rest of you—keep failing. It's character-building."

Jack finally rose.

He was paired with Rowan.

Their dummies moved. Fire and shadow erupted.

And Lindarion didn't look away.

Because for the first time since arriving, he found Jack interesting.

He wasn't envious, there was no reason to be.

He was almost recognizing Jack.

Jack's fire didn't just burn—it was like a cut. The flame had been threaded, layered with something dense and shaped. Not just raw fire affinity, but it was like trained application.

'At least he can try and back that arrogant attitude.'

A breath late, Rowan's darkness followed—bladed shadows that moved like wolves around the edge of Jack's flare.

They finished in two strikes.

Clean. Calculated. Almost elegant.

Lindarion didn't take his eyes off the two of them.

'That was good.'

Nyx said nothing.

But she watched them too.

—

Later, when class ended, the buzz followed them out. Some students peeled away fast—chattering. Others lingered. Watching Lindarion walk down the corridor like he was something they couldn't name.

Cassian caught up fast.

"I know that look," he said. "You're thinking dangerous thoughts again."

"Do you think Jack trained threading before the class?"

Cassian blinked. "I… mean, probably? His family's got resources. Tutors. Ego. Everything but shame, really."

'Shame?'

"And what about that Rowan?"

"That creep? No idea. He gives off… feral but well-read vibes."

Luneth stepped beside them without invitation.

"He used to study under a shadow duelist," she said flatly.

Cassian stared. "What."

"You asked," she muttered.

They kept walking. Lindarion didn't stop thinking.

Too many variables. Too many eyes.

And somewhere between the dining hall and Nyx's threading lesson, a quiet certainty bloomed inside him.

—

Cassian kept pace with Lindarion. Luneth, trailing half a step behind, didn't seem to notice them slowing near the east tower stairwell—until she realized they'd stopped completely.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

Lindarion didn't answer immediately. He glanced back down the empty corridor, then looked up.

There, on the fourth-floor mezzanine, just past the arch window, stood Eryndel Vance.

Not watching them.

Drinking tea.

With perfect posture.

'Is he watching us? Seriously?'

But he hadn't blinked since Lindarion noticed him. Not once.

"Just wondering," Cassian said lightly, "how much we can charge them for being this obsessed. Is there a stalker tax? Some kind of noble-level fine for unsolicited gazes?"

Luneth barely tilted her head. "They're tracking your patterns."

"That's comforting."

"Are you surprised?" she asked flatly. "Nyx gave you open praise in front of Valerian and his idiot dog. You humiliated a reactive dummy in one motion. They're not interested in your potential. They're interested in your reach."

"My reach? And how do they already know about it?" Lindarion asked.

"How much you can get away with, and news travel way too fast here." Luneth said.

She stepped past them, coat brushing against his sleeve.

Cassian exhaled like he'd been holding something in. "I keep forgetting she's scarier than you."

"She's not."

"She's… differently terrifying."

'Idiot.'

They turned the corner, past a set of low crystal lamps that flickered with blue-tinged mana.

A cluster of students was gathered near the dorm atrium—first-years mostly, no upperclassmen in sight. The kind of group that didn't form without gossip worth freezing for.

Cassian muttered, "I smell a rumor."

Lindarion was already listening.

He didn't have to try hard.

"…just said he collapsed," someone was whispering. "Mana rebound. His circuits burned too fast."

"I thought they said it was from an attack?"

"No, no—they said his own spell hit him back. Threaded it wrong. Internal rupture."

"That's what Nyx was talking about, right? Fail threading, and it crushes you from the inside?"

"I thought she meant metaphorically…"

'What are they talking about?'

Lindarion stepped closer.

They didn't notice.

Not until one voice hissed, "Shut up, he's right there—"

The group scattered fast. Too fast. Like something guilty had touched them.

'Am I a virus or something?'

Only one girl lingered—Elara Hargrave. Her arms were crossed. Her foot tapped lightly against the stone, fast and unfocused.

She didn't run.

Which made her the only one with a spine.

Lindarion met her gaze. "Who collapsed?"

Her jaw flexed. She didn't want to tell him.

But Cassian spoke before she could deflect.

"It was Luka, right? From class 2z The guy who got that wind-thread to half activate during their class yesterday."

Elara's eyes flicked to him.

"That's what they're saying. But the teachers aren't confirming anything."

'How come I never hear about anything..'

Lindarion just blinked.

"So he failed threading," Luneth said. No emotion.

"More like he almost succeeded," Elara muttered. "It turned in on itself. The feedback fried his core alignment. He was still twitching when they carried him out."

Cassian let out a low whistle. "Okay. Not terrifying at all."

"Why are you all so calm about this?" she snapped suddenly. "That could've been any of us."

'But it wasn't.'

Lindarion studied her more carefully now.

Elara wasn't just annoyed. She was rattled.

Beneath the loudness and her temper, something cold crept in.

She was scared.

Not of Nyx. Not of failure.

Of herself.

"I threaded fine," she said, before anyone could ask. "Not perfect. But I didn't collapse."

No one responded.

She pushed past them. "Whatever. Don't act like I care."

Cassian watched her go. "She's going to ice punch a mirror tonight."

'She definitely cares.'

"She's scared," Lindarion said.

"Yeah. We all are."

Luneth's eyes narrowed.

Not at him.

At the stairwell.

Where Vivienne was standing.

Arms folded. Backlit by the crystalline dusk light. Like she'd been there longer than she should've.

"Eavesdropping?" Luneth asked dryly.

Vivienne stepped down, slowly. Her boots were immaculate. Her hair half-coiled in a high twist, the kind that said she doesn't care about anyone else.

"No need," she said. "Rumors travel faster than magic in this place."

She stopped in front of Lindarion. Just for a moment.

Then, with barely a glance—

"You're late."

"…For what."

She turned.

"Follow me."

'It's whatever.'

Cassian blinked. "Oh, that's not ominous at all."

Lindarion didn't hesitate.

He followed.

Luneth did too.

After a second of groaning, Cassian trudged after them. "I swear, if this is another secret test—"

—

They stopped in an unused supply hall. One of the old ones, lined with rusted rods and discarded equipment.

Vivienne pushed open a side door. Inside—

A half-lit room.

Stone floor. Wooden bench. And one other figure already waiting there.

Kael.

He didn't look up.

Didn't greet them. Didn't move at all.

Vivienne closed the door behind them.

Cassian muttered, "We're definitely going to die.."

'Shut up you idiot.'

Lindarion didn't say anything.

Because Kael hadn't even blinked yet.

And for the first time all day, something in the air didn't feel like tension.

It felt like a blade pressed to a nerve.