Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 66: Unknown Realm

The shadows released Eren like reluctant lovers, their tendrils lingering before dissipating into the frigid air. He staggered forward, momentarily disoriented by the transition. Behind him, the portal collapsed with a sound like shattering glass, leaving only empty space where it had been.

A biting cold unlike anything he’d experienced in Moonlight or Thornvale struck him immediately. The air was thin and sharp, each breath painful in his lungs. Something small trembled against his chest—the humic that had hidden in his robes. Eren felt its tiny body shivering against his skin but made no outward indication of its presence.

’Stay hidden, little one,’ he thought coldly. ’This place is not safe for either of us.’

He blinked, allowing his vision to adjust to his new surroundings. They stood on what appeared to be a vast, snow-covered courtyard. Before them loomed the skeletal framework of a massive structure—a building that had either been abandoned mid-construction or had partially collapsed. Its exposed beams reached toward the colorless sky, and sheets of what might once have been decorative marble lay cracked and scattered across the ground. Snow drifted through the open spaces where walls and ceilings should have been.

’This place reeks of decay and forgotten power,’ Eren thought, his breath forming clouds before his face.

The six warriors who had accompanied them through the portal moved into formation around their small group, their expressions guarded and uncertain. They seemed as uncomfortable here as Eren felt. At a signal from Kiran—a subtle flick of her wrist—the warriors bowed deeply before melting away into the shadows of the ruins, their footsteps silent on the snow-covered ground.

Kiran, however, moved with the easy familiarity of someone returning home. She stretched her arms wide, tilting her face to the leaden sky, and laughed.

"Beautiful day, isn’t it?" she asked conversationally, as if they were taking a pleasant stroll through palace gardens. "The master keeps it cold—says it preserves the magic better." She skipped forward a few steps, then whirled around to face Eren, blood still drying on her palm. "Most newcomers find it unpleasant at first, but you’ll adjust. The body adapts to survive, doesn’t it? Just like my mind had to adapt when I first heard the whispers."

Eren kept his expression neutral, refusing to engage with her obvious madness. His eyes scanned their surroundings, assessing, calculating. The warriors had vanished completely, but he could still feel eyes watching from the shadows. This place—or perhaps Kiran herself—inspired a deep, instinctive dread.

"Not much for conversation?" Kiran continued, undeterred by his silence. "That’s alright. Your mother wasn’t either, at first. So formal, so rigid—’A queen must maintain composure at all times,’" she mimicked in a singsong voice. "But pain has a way of making everyone more... expressive." Her eyes gleamed with disturbing mirth. "I wonder what sounds you’ll make when you finally break?"

Eren kept walking, maintaining a steady pace that forced Kiran to skip occasionally to keep up with his longer strides. He fixed his gaze on the complex of buildings ahead, ignoring her attempts to provoke a reaction.

"You know," Kiran continued, twirling a strand of her short hair around her bloodied finger, "I’ve dreamed of bringing you here for so long. Years and years of planning, of waiting. Did you know I was there when you were born? Standing in the shadows of your mother’s chamber, watching you take your first breath. I knew even then what you would become."

They walked for what felt like hours across the frozen terrain. Gradually, the scattered ruins gave way to more complete structures, though all bore the same bleak, abandoned appearance. The architecture was rigid and imposing—designed to intimidate rather than welcome.

Ahead, one structure dominated the landscape. It resembled a grand governmental palace with towering columns and a symmetrical façade. Yet this building exuded neglect and malevolence. What might once have been pristine stone had faded to a sickly gray. Frost clung to the columns like parasites, and several windows were shattered, their edges jagged and threatening.

"Home sweet home," Kiran chirped, gesturing grandly toward the structure. "The master has been preparing for centuries. Isn’t it magnificent?"

One of the warriors approached the massive double doors and pushed them open with visible effort. As they swung inward, Eren steeled himself, uncertain what awaited them inside.

The interior defied all expectations. While the outside had suggested abandonment and decay, the inside revealed an impossible space that stretched far beyond what the building’s exterior dimensions should have allowed. The ceiling soared to dizzying heights, lost in shadows and mist. What looked at first like polished marble floors resolved, upon closer inspection, into smooth, iridescent material that seemed almost alive, rippling subtly beneath their feet.

’This place exists between realms,’ Eren thought, his mind calculating escape routes even as he observed. ’Neither fully here nor there.’

The air inside was no warmer than outside, but it was dense with something else—power that pressed against his skin like an unwelcome touch.

As they ventured deeper, Eren’s attention was drawn to the inhabitants. Elves moved throughout the cavernous space, but they were unlike any he had seen before. These warriors wore their hair in complex braids adorned with silver beads that captured what little light filtered through the high windows. Their attire was formal battle dress—flowing black robes cinched with white sashes. Each carried a sword at their hip, the hilts wrapped in white cloth that contrasted starkly with their dark attire.

Their numbers were staggering. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of warriors moved through the space with disciplined precision, training in formation or standing guard at various intervals. The synchronized sound of their movements echoed throughout the hall—a continuous reminder of the overwhelming force surrounding them.

As they approached what appeared to be the central chamber, the warriors they passed began to drop to one knee, heads bowed in deep reverence. The synchronized movement created a wave of genuflection that spread outward from their path.

"They’re bowing for you," Kiran whispered, her voice holding an edge of jealousy beneath the forced cheer. "The Veilwalker’s arrival has been prophesied for generations. Many have waited their entire lives just to glimpse you." She laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally in the vast space. "Isn’t that delicious? All this power, all this devotion—and you didn’t even know you were special until recently."

Ahead, a wide staircase of the same shifting, opalescent material led to an elevated platform. A single figure stood at the top, her posture rigid and unwelcoming. Even from a distance, Eren could sense her power—focused and controlled.

As they approached the stairs, the figure stepped forward. She was tall and slender, with silver hair pulled back in a tight, elegant knot at the nape of her neck. Her features were sharp, almost predatory, and her eyes were a piercing violet that seemed to cut through Eren’s defenses.

"Kiran," she called, her voice melodic yet cutting. "A mere four centuries to bring the Veilwalker to us. Were you delayed by stopping to torture small animals along the way?" The mockery in her tone was unmistakable.

Kiran’s smile widened to something feral. "Luna, my sweet," she replied, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Still bitter I outrank you despite your head start? Must be difficult being number six when you try so hard."

Eren observed the elf more carefully. On her forehead, partially obscured by her hairline, was an ornate marking in the shape of the number 6, the lines raised slightly as if scarred into her flesh rather than merely inked.

"This is Luna," Kiran said, gesturing toward the silver-haired elf with a flourish. "Number six of the master’s chosen seven. She’s quite deadly with a blade, though her personality leaves much to be desired. Fire element, you know—always burning with rage."

Luna’s expression shifted from disdain to sharp warning. "Shut it," she hissed at Kiran. "The master awaits your arrival."

As they were about to enter the inner chamber, Eren surveyed the scene with cold assessment. "I don’t see any number on you," he stated flatly.

Kiran’s perpetual smile faltered for the first time. With a sharp snap of her fingers, she tilted her head back, brushing aside the high collar of her armor. There, carved deep into the flesh of her neck and extending down beneath her clothing, was the number 5—not a tattoo but a grotesque scar, as if someone had taken a hot blade and carved the symbol into her skin.

"Fire for Luna, air for me," Kiran said, her voice taking on an almost reverent quality. "Each of us bears an element, chosen by the master."

’So she’s been hiding her identity,’ Eren thought, his mind already analyzing this new information. ’Number five of seven. I wonder what the remaining five are like, especially number one.’

The inner chamber opened before them, revealing a throne room of austere elegance. Unlike the chaotic enormity of the main hall, this space was designed with precise symmetry. The throne itself was surprisingly simple—carved from what appeared to be a single piece of white stone, unadorned save for subtle runes etched along its edges. Three smaller seats flanked it on each side, arranged in descending height.

As they entered, Eren realized the other seats were not empty. Elven warriors sat in silent judgment, each bearing a numbered mark somewhere on their body. They watched with predatory stillness as Kiran led Eren forward. Their bearing spoke of centuries of combat experience; these were not ceremonial guards but battle-hardened killers.

"I’ll introduce them properly later," Kiran whispered, her voice tight with suppressed excitement. "They’re just jealous of my special relationship with the master."

For a moment, the central throne remained empty. Then, without sound or movement to announce her arrival, a figure simply appeared upon it—as if she had always been there, merely unnoticed until now.

Her presence commanded immediate attention, drawing the eye like a flame in darkness. Her hair, cropped short and golden, seemed to capture and reflect light that didn’t exist in the somber chamber. Her features were perfectly symmetrical, unsettlingly beautiful in their precision. She sat with her eyes closed, hands resting lightly on the arms of the throne, utterly still.

When her eyes finally opened, Eren felt a chill that had nothing to do with the chamber’s temperature. They were unlike any eyes he had seen—neither silver like his family’s nor any natural color of the elven races. Instead, they shifted constantly, like oil on water, never settling on a single hue.

Her gaze found him instantly, lips curving into a smile that conveyed recognition rather than welcome.

"Veilwalker," she said, her voice unexpectedly warm, like honey poured over ice. "At last."