Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 61: Awakening ceremony and Danger ahead

Morning light streamed through the high windows, painting golden patterns across the stone floor. Eren stirred, his body pleasantly aching from the night’s ritual with Commander Maria. As consciousness returned fully, he felt the difference immediately—a new current of power flowing through his veins, cool and fluid. The second element had awakened within him.

He assessed the unfamiliar magic pulsing beneath his skin. Illusion—not his primary affinity, but now unmistakably part of him. Useful. Another tool.

A firm knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he called, voice flat despite his nakedness. He stood unmoving, facing the door.

A palace guard stepped in, eyes carefully averted out of respect. In her hands lay a bundle of fabric so fine it seemed to catch the light in ways ordinary cloth could not.

"Veilwalker," the guard said with a deep bow. "The Queen has requested your presence in the Grand Hall. She sends these garments as befitting your station."

Eren took the bundle, examining the material with clinical detachment. It was exceptional craftsmanship—deep midnight blue with silver threadwork that formed intricate patterns along the edges. The designs reminded him of constellations, though none he recognized.

"What is this about?" he asked, his tone devoid of curiosity, merely seeking information.

The guard hesitated, then straightened. "My apologies, Veilwalker. The Queen has called for a formal presentation. Word has spread throughout Thornvale about—" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "—about what transpired last night. The awakening of new powers."

Eren’s face remained impassive. "When does this presentation begin?"

"Within the hour, Veilwalker. The hall already fills with those eager to attend."

After the guard departed, Eren dressed with methodical precision. The garments fit perfectly against his form, suggesting they had been prepared specifically for this occasion. He did not appreciate the aesthetics—only their functionality and appropriateness for the task ahead.

He studied his reflection in the polished metal surface near the bed. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

The corridors were unusually busy as he made his way through the palace. Servants hurried past, arms laden with decorative items. Guards stood at attention, armor polished to mirror brightness. The usual whispers that followed him had transformed into something more reverent, more aware.

As he approached the Grand Hall, the massive doors swung open. The sight before him made Eren pause briefly in his stride, though his face betrayed no surprise.

The hall was filled completely with elves from every part of Thornvale. Nobles in their finery stood near the front, their elaborate headdresses and jewelry catching the light. Behind them, merchants and craftspeople in their best attire. Further back, common folk who had clearly traveled considerable distances to witness this moment.

And as Eren stepped through the threshold, a wave moved through the crowd.

Every elf in the hall—from the highest noble to the youngest child—bowed low.

Eren maintained his composure. The display neither pleased nor displeased him. It simply was.

As he walked forward along the central aisle, he could hear the whispers of children, quickly hushed by their mothers.

"Mother, look! The Veilwalker is so beautiful!" one small voice carried clearly. "I want to touch his hair!"

"Hush, child!" came the mortified response. "Show proper respect!"

Eren continued forward, his gaze fixed ahead, unmoved by the comment. He noticed familiar faces among the crowd. His sisters, Naia and Lyra, bowed with the others but their eyes shone with pride. Behind them stood Rose, her cheeks flushed pink as she lowered her gaze. Captain Diana and Elira stood at attention nearby, their warrior’s salute more rigid than the civilian bow.

On the other side, he spotted Viva, who despite the solemnity of the occasion, gave him an exaggerated wink and flashed a dramatic thumbs-up. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and adoration, her posture somehow managing to convey both deep respect and playful familiarity. Beside her, Mika tried unsuccessfully to elbow her into proper decorum.

Eren did not acknowledge the gesture. His face remained a mask of ice.

Ahead, at the end of the long aisle, Queen Elena and Commander Maria waited. Both wore ceremonial garb—Elena in silver and white that made her look like moonlight given form, Maria in deep violet armor adorned with runes that seemed to shift under the light.

As he reached them, both women descended the dais steps and, to his surprise, bowed deeply before him.

The hall fell silent. No one rose. Not the Queen, not the Commander, not a single elf in the vast room.

Eren looked toward Naia, who gave him the slightest nod. Understanding clicked into place—his instincts confirmed what protocol demanded.

"Rise," he commanded, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall without effort, cold and authoritative.

The sound that followed was like rustling leaves as hundreds of elves straightened in unison. Only then did Elena step forward, her posture regal and her voice clear.

"People of Thornvale," she began, "this is the moment our ancestors foresaw. The time we have been preparing for through generations." Her eyes swept the hall. "Long ago, our forebears fought against the Great Three and managed to seal them away. But the seals were never meant to last forever."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Eren observed the tensions in the air—fear mingled with hope, uncertainty with reverence—with clinical detachment.

"The prophecy promised us the Veilwalker—a being from beyond our realm who would restore what was broken and lead us against the coming darkness." Elena’s gaze rested on Eren. "Many doubted. Many feared the prophecy was mere wishful thinking."

An elderly elf near the front wiped tears from her eyes. A young mother clutched her child closer. Eren recognized the weight of generations of waiting hanging in the air, but remained unmoved by the emotional display.

"As you witnessed in the arena, the Veilwalker’s power is formidable. But what you saw was merely the beginning."

Elena moved closer to Eren, leaning in to speak near his ear. "Show them your elements," she whispered. "All three. They need to see."

Eren gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He extended his hand. With a thought, earth responded—pebbles and soil materializing above his palm, swirling into a perfect sphere. He shifted his intent, and water flowed from his other hand, circling the earth in rings that caught the light. Finally, with a calculated exhale, he summoned illusion—creating the image of a miniature moon orbiting his creation.

Gasps echoed through the hall. Children pointed, elders wept silently. A noble woman in the front row swayed, steadied quickly by her companion. Eren’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were merely demonstrating a commonplace skill rather than the impossible.

"Three elements," Elena continued, her voice carrying over the murmurs. "No elf in our recorded history has wielded more than one."

She raised her own hand, and to the astonishment of many, earth rose from the floor, coalescing into complex shapes before transforming—metal gleaming where soil had been moments before.

Commander Maria stepped forward, summoning not just a simple illusion, but an entire scene of floating warriors that moved and shifted with such complexity that several illusion-masters in the audience shook their heads in disbelief.

"The Veilwalker has awakened us," Elena announced. "Together, we have broken two seals. Twelve remain."

Her voice lowered, taking on a gravity that hushed even the whispering children. "For generations, Thornvale has stood alone, the last bastion against the darkness. Our people have grown fewer, our powers dimmer with each passing year." She looked out across the faces of her subjects. "But today marks a turning point. Today, hope returns to our realm."

Eren observed the crowd’s reaction—the straightening of spines, the lifting of chins. Fear remained, but something else grew stronger. Determination. Useful, he thought. Fear paralyzed. Determination could be harnessed.

"The path before us is long," Elena continued. "The Great Three stir in their ancient prison. We feel their influence growing. But we no longer face them unprepared. We no longer stand without the weapon foretold."

She turned to Eren, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that would have unnerved a lesser being. His gaze met hers, equally intense but utterly devoid of warmth.

"The Veilwalker walks among us. The seals break. Our power returns."

Elena raised her voice to its full resonance, filling the vast chamber: "Thornvale rises!"

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Hundreds of voices joined in a thunderous reply: "THORNVALE RISES!"

The ceremony shifted to a more formal structure after that. Nobles approached Eren one by one, offering thanks, pledges of loyalty, gifts of significant value. He accepted each with the same measured courtesy, neither warm nor dismissive, his responses minimal and precise.

Eventually, Naia and his other companions made their way to him, their familiar presence a welcome change from the formality of the nobles.

"Look at you," Naia teased quietly, "already commanding queens to rise. Your composure is impressive, sister ."

Eren merely inclined his head slightly, neither confirming nor denying her observation.

Before he could respond further, a commotion caught their attention. A small elf child had broken away from her mother and was running directly toward him, her silver-blue hair streaming behind her like a comet’s tail.

"Your Highness, I apologize profusely!" The mother called, hurrying after the child with a mortified expression.

Eren raised a hand to the nearby guards who had begun to move. "It’s fine," he said, his voice measured and cool as the young elf skidded to a halt before him, breathing heavily.

The child couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Her eyes, wide and determined, fixed on him with intensity that seemed beyond her years.

"I want you to perform TUNA with me!" she declared, her voice carrying through the suddenly silent hall.

Eren’s expression remained unchanged, though he sensed Naia tense beside him. Before he could speak, the child continued.

"I want to become stronger and fight against the Great Three by your side!" Her voice rang with absolute certainty.

Eren looked down at the fierce determination in the young elf’s eyes. His features softened almost imperceptibly—a change so subtle only those who knew him well would notice.

"Very well, young elf," he said, kneeling to meet her at eye level, his voice still cool but less distant than before. "But you are not of age yet."

"But I want to become stronger!" she protested, small fists clenched. "I want to fight beside you!"

"Then train every day of your life," Eren told her, his voice precise and measured. "Become so strong that mountains cannot shake you. Let your sword learn to cut through the sky itself." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "When you have done this, when you have grown, then I will consider your request. Then you may fight beside me."

The girl’s face lit up with joy despite his coldness, as if sensing the rare concession behind his words.

Suddenly, Eren’s vision blurred. Reality around him seemed to waver, replaced by flashing images—fire consuming forests, skies torn open, mountains crumbling to dust. A vast shadow moving across the land. Then he saw them: thousands of warriors, their forms stretching endlessly across the horizon, marching forward with unwavering determination, weapons gleaming in the apocalyptic light.

"Eren!" Naia’s voice cut through the vision. He found himself supported by his companions, concern etched on their faces.

"What happened?" Lyra asked, her voice low.

Eren steadied himself, the mask of control sliding back into place immediately. Only his eyes betrayed the urgency he felt.

"We’re going home," he said, voice flat and brooking no argument. "Now."