Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 99: Respect

Kaelen's voice rang out. "Begin!"

Darius wasted no time, channeling his mana to envelop his fists in crackling energy.

He lunged forward with impressive speed, aiming a punch at Lindarion's midsection.

Drawing upon his own reserves, Lindarion sidestepped gracefully, feeling the familiar surge of mana coursing through him.

He retaliated with a swift palm strike, augmented by a controlled burst of energy that sent Darius skidding back a few feet.

A flicker of surprise crossed Darius's face, quickly replaced by a grin. "Not bad."

They circled each other, exchanging blows and counters, their movements growing more fluid as the bout progressed.

The surrounding students paused their own sparring to watch, murmuring among themselves.

After several intense minutes, Kaelen raised a hand. "Enough."

Both combatants halted, breathing heavily but standing tall.

Kaelen nodded approvingly. "Lindarion, you've demonstrated skill beyond your years. Darius, I expect you to challenge him further in future sessions."

Darius extended a hand toward Lindarion. "Looking forward to it."

'He's actually good.'

Lindarion clasped Darius's forearm firmly. "Likewise."

As the session concluded, the initial skepticism in the room had diminished, replaced by a grudging respect for the first-year who had held his own.

Lindarion knew this was just the beginning. The path ahead would be arduous, but he was prepared to navigate it, one challenge at a time.

—

The training ended without a problem.

No praise. No feedback. Just Instructor Kaelen's sharp gaze following Lindarion as the third-years began to file out of the chamber.

A few of them threw sidelong glances in Lindarion's direction—no longer just curious, but… recalibrating. Reassessing.

He was a variable now.

Not just the first-year prodigy. Not just a footnote. A moving piece.

'Better than being a rumor I guess.'

Lindarion remained where he was, letting the room empty around him. Darius gave him a half-wave before leaving with a couple others, chatting like nothing unusual had happened.

'This is going to be fun.'

Lindarion adjusted his collar, the mana still thrumming faintly beneath his skin.

The threading techniques had felt… too easy. As if his body had already begun anticipating the flow before it was needed.

'Either I'm getting faster… or I've been slow this entire time.'

He wasn't sure which answer was worse.

"You're not like the others."

The voice came from behind him.

'Not again.'

Lindarion turned.

A girl—older, third-year—stood at the edge of the chamber, her robes marked with the crest of a dueling elective.

Her hair was dark, tied back into a simple braid, and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through hesitation.

"You moved like you'd already seen the attack. Not a second ahead—more like… a frame." She tilted her head. "How?"

'What lie do I tell her now?'

"…Practice," Lindarion said, brushing dust from his sleeve.

"Right," she said, not believing him. "Well. If you're staying in this training, you're going to draw attention."

"I already have," he replied.

She smirked faintly. "Then don't blink. They'll test you again."

She left after that. No name. No threat. Just another person measuring him silently.

—

By the time Lindarion returned to the dorm halls, the corridor was mostly empty—except for the one presence leaning against his door.

Vivienne.

'Of course she's here, where else would she be.'

She looked up as he approached, arms folded, gaze unreadable. Her braid had come slightly undone, and there was a small rip in her sleeve that hadn't been there earlier.

"Was it worth it?" she asked.

"The training?"

"The isolation," she corrected. "Being the only first-year on that list."

'Yeah, it was way better than our classes to be honest.'

Lindarion stepped past her and unlocked his door. "I wasn't planning to fail quietly."

Vivienne followed him in without asking.

She perched herself on the edge of his desk, arms still folded, voice quieter.

"I got word during practice. Jack's started asking questions."

'That dumbass again.'

Lindarion exhaled. "About what?"

"Threading. Training. You. Take your pick."

"He can ask."

"He will," she said, flicking a speck of dust off her glove. "He doesn't like being second. Especially not to someone who isn't in his class."

Lindarion didn't respond.

Vivienne finally stood, brushing past him toward the door.

"Oh," she added before leaving, her voice light. "And Nyx filed a transfer. If you don't die next time, you'll be in advanced mana combat theory."

She left before he could reply.

The silence that followed was almost too comfortable.

'Advanced mana combat theory..'

Then—

Lindarion stirred the shadows in the room and Selene emerged slowly, a swirl of darkness folding into her shape.

She didn't speak at first.

Just looked at him.

Then she finally spoke up.

"…You looked tired, Young Master."

Lindarion sat on the edge of his bed and leaned back.

"Not tired. Just… getting used to the noise."

Selene blinked slowly.

"They'll keep testing you. The strong ones. The ones with names and eyes and pride."

"I know."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Do you want me to make them disappear?"

'She says it so easily.'

Lindarion didn't answer.

Not right away.

"…Not yet," he said eventually. "But keep the offer open."

Selene smiled faintly. "Always."

—

The hallway lights flickered as she turned the corner into the east wing of the first-year dormitory.

Same bland walls. Same floors. No gilded emblems. No legacy wings.

Just students pretending they weren't all under the same roof.

'He's way better than I thought.'

Vivienne walked past the common lounge where someone was arguing loudly about potion ratios and two others were betting on training match stats. No one paid her any mind. She didn't slow down.

Room 23. She didn't knock.

She pushed the door open.

Jack Valerian sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, polishing his gloves with deliberate care. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, and a small ember burned at his fingertip—flickering lazily, like a cat stretching in sunlight.

He didn't look surprised to see her.

"Evening," he said without looking up.

Vivienne stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind her. "You're already bored of pretending, aren't you?"

Jack's eyes flicked up.

"No. I just assumed you'd show up eventually. You always do."

Vivienne crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, gaze sharp.

"You sent Kael."

Jack tilted his head. "Did I?"

"Don't insult me."

A beat of silence.

Then Jack let out a soft sigh and flicked the ember out.

"Fine. Yes. I nudged him. Lightly." He shrugged. "The way you might steer a curious hound toward an unfamiliar scent."

Vivienne's voice was cold. "He's not a dog."

"No," Jack said. "But he does bite."

"You were hoping he'd rattle Lindarion."

Jack's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I was hoping he'd test him. Big difference."

"You're going to get someone killed at this rate."

Jack stood. Slowly. Not threateningly—but deliberately. His tone dropped just slightly.

"And you're getting awfully protective."

Vivienne didn't flinch. "I'm not protecting him. I'm watching him."

Jack chuckled, brushing his hair back. "Sure. Like a hawk. Or a sister."

Vivienne took a step forward. "Jack. He's not like the others. You think this is politics. I think it's something else."

Jack's brow arched.

"He's strong," Vivienne continued. "And stable. And no one trained to be that composed under pressure without expecting to be targeted."

Jack rolled his shoulders once. "And?"

"And you're not good at losing."

That hit.

Just a fraction.

His jaw tensed for half a heartbeat before he recovered.

"Then I suppose I'd better not lose," he said quietly.

Vivienne stared at him.

Not angry. Not warning.

Just tired.

"You always make this into a game," she said.

Jack's voice was light again, but the weight behind it didn't leave.

"Everything is a game."

Vivienne turned away. "Just don't start one you can't finish."

At the door, she paused.

"And don't send anyone else after him."

Jack smiled faintly behind her.

"Why not?"

"Because next time," she said without looking back, "he won't walk away. They won't."

The door shut quietly behind her.

And Jack?

Jack just stood there.

Staring at his gloves, firelight dancing at the edges of his fingers.

'Interesting,' he thought.

'Let's see how long you last, Lindarion.'

—

The next day Lindarion's classes resumed normally.

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He was just making his way towards the basic hand to hand combat training grounds when he was stopped by a giant…elf.

His outfit had a number three on it, indicating that he was a third year in the academy.

'God damn he's huge.'

He had short blonde hair and mesmerizing blue eyes like the largest sea on Eryndor.

His facial features were extremely sharp like a chiseled blade.

'Is he not going to say anything?'

"Is there anything I can help—"

Before Lindarion could even finish the elf placed his hands on his own chest as he straightened himself.

"I respectfully greet the Prince of Eldorath! Lindarion Sunblade!"

His voice was booming across the whole area making multiple heads turn towards them.

'That was…the last thing I expected.'