Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 125: Strange Events (1)

The turn came sharp.

Lindarion stepped around the lichen-crusted rock with his hand near his side. He didn't draw. Just kept his fingers loose and open, like he was ready to flick them if something moved wrong.

Ardan moved up beside him. Not behind. Left side, slightly back, head tilted like he was listening for a language trees might speak if they felt like being rude about it.

Then the view opened.

A small clearing. Circular. Ground packed down to ice and old mud. The kind that had been trampled by too many feet in too little time. The snow hadn't covered this part yet. That said enough.

In the middle sat a man. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

'Again? Seriously?'

Not tied up. Not leaning like he'd fallen. Just sitting there. Legs stretched out, head forward, one arm resting on his lap like it had forgotten what to do.

Lindarion didn't speak. He blinked once. Then again, slower.

Ardan sniffed once, subtle.

"Still breathing?" he asked.

Lindarion tilted his head.

"Not sure. But if he is, he's pretending not to be. Badly."

The man didn't move. His coat fluttered slightly in the wind, but the rest of him stayed stiff. One boot untied. Fingers splayed like someone had dropped him and forgot to pose the body.

Ardan's mouth shifted to one side. His tongue touched his molar, then left it alone.

"Place your bets. Fainting? Trap? Very dramatic nap?"

Lindarion stepped forward two paces. Not quiet. He made sure the man could hear the frost crack under his boots.

No reaction.

'Definitely a trap…'

Then something shifted. Not him. The air. The way it moved behind the fallen log.

Ardan noticed too. His stance changed. Not tense, just… cleaner.

Lindarion raised his voice a notch. Not shouting.

"Hello."

Nothing.

"Do me a favor," he said without looking. "Circle wide. Stay visible."

Ardan gave a dry hum. "That's the opposite of how I usually survive ambushes, but sure."

He moved.

The crunch of his steps took the long arc right, slow and deliberate. He didn't bother hiding the sound. Just made sure each footfall was spaced wrong. Too far apart to be calm. Too close to be rushed. Like a bad actor in a play about ghosts.

Still, the man didn't move.

Lindarion approached closer. Four steps. Three. He stopped just outside arm's reach. The wind shifted again, and with it came a smell.

Blood.

Old. But not dry. Sticky along the edge of fabric.

The man's face was angled down. Shaved head. Thin line of soot across the scalp like someone had tried to burn something there and gotten bored halfway.

His skin was pale. Not frostbitten. Not fresh either. More… drained. Like something had wrung him out.

Ardan stopped to Lindarion's right. He tilted his head and clicked his tongue.

"His heartbeat's too calm."

"You can hear that?"

"I've been bored enough times to learn."

Lindarion crouched.

The man's eyes opened.

Just barely. A slit. Then another.

No fear in them. No panic. Just a kind of dull weight.

"Are you the one who took the arm?" Lindarion asked.

The man's lips twitched.

Then he smiled.

Not wide. Just crooked.

"Do I look like I won?" he rasped.

Ardan's hand lowered slightly. Not relaxing. Just readjusting.

'What is happening in these woods man..'

Lindarion watched the man's throat as he swallowed. That one movement told more than the words did.

He was exhausted. Bone deep. His core was either shattered or emptied. Probably both.

"You're the one who left the trail."

"Yeah." His head leaned back against the log with a soft thud. "Didn't expect you to follow it. Thought I was being subtle."

"Cloth markers. Blood. Dragged body."

"I never said I was good at subtle."

Ardan crouched too, just enough to bring his eyes level.

"Brand on the corpse. Same as yours?"

The man didn't answer. His smile flattened.

Lindarion narrowed his eyes.

"You're not worried."

"Not yet."

"You should be."

"I know."

A branch cracked deeper in the woods behind them. A soft pop. Too clean.

All three of them looked up.

Lindarion didn't move. Just stood slow, eyes still on the half-dead man.

Ardan's shoulders shifted. He turned slightly. One hand behind his back now.

"More coming?"

The man let out a short breath. Almost a laugh.

"Not more. Just one."

"Friendly?"

"Worse."

Lindarion didn't blink.

'Worse?'

"You led us here."

"I led her here. You're just fast."

Ardan exhaled through his nose.

"Well, that's fantastic. Should we start running or wait for the scream?"

The man smiled again. Wider this time. It didn't reach his eyes.

"You'll want to see this part."

[Greater Core Recovery: 30%]

Lindarion felt it like a thread behind his ribs pulling tighter.

Then came the sound again.

Stone over stone.

And just at the far edge of the tree line, something pale moved between the trunks.

Not fast.

Just deliberate.

Lindarion didn't speak. His fingers curled, then straightened. The system didn't flare. It didn't need to.

Ardan said it first.

"Now that's a bad idea walking."

Lindarion's voice was calm.

"Let's cover him."

"I'll try. He looks heavier than he complains."

The man didn't argue.

He just closed his eyes again and muttered something quiet.

It sounded like a name.

But neither of them caught it.

Not yet.

—

A footstep crunched through the frost.

Another followed. Lighter than expected. Clean rhythm. No stagger, no limp. Not fast either. Just deliberate.

Then she stepped out.

She wasn't tall. Maybe a hand shorter than Lindarion. But somehow she looked like she should be towering.

Shoulders back, chin tilted like the whole forest was hers and they were standing in it without permission.

Straight black hair framed her face, glossy and cut to just above the shoulder. Not a strand out of place.

Her skin was pale, not cold pale, porcelain. Clean even in the half light, like the frost had no authority to touch her.

Eyes? Sharp gray. A storm-cloud shade that didn't suit her age, or maybe suited her too well.

Her coat was black, trimmed in charcoal thread, the inner lining flickering with something faintly iridescent.

Not quite magic. Not quite fashion. Somewhere in between. Boots laced high, polished. Not a speck of mud on them.

Ardan blinked.

"You've got to be kidding me."

She stopped five paces away. Hands in her pockets.

No frost on her. No breath visible in the cold. Which meant her body was burning hot on the inside, or well shielded. That shimmer on her coat wasn't decorative.

Lindarion didn't move. Just observed.

She turned her head a little. Looked at each of them like she was reading a menu. Settled on Ardan first. Smirked.

"Grumpy."

Then at Lindarion.

"You're prettier."