Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 44: Welcome to Hell

Lindarion shook Twelve’s hand, their gazes locking for a moment.

"I know I won, but don’t compare yourself to me."

Lindarion said jokingly, after that he realized how bad it sounded.

’Wow. That was incredibly cringe to say out loud.’

Lindarion’s smile twitched slightly as Twelve shook his head and said something before he walked away.

"It’s good to compare yourself to better people sometimes. Helps with improvement."

’That’s the half truth. I guess.’

Then, out of nowhere, a massive hand clamped down on Lindarion’s shoulder. His body reacted instantly—pushing off and twisting backward as if his life depended on it.

Magnus raised an eyebrow at him, looking both amused and unimpressed.

"Paranoid little brat, aren’t you? Come with me."

With that, he turned and strode toward the building.

"You lazy bunch, keep those spars going!" he barked over his shoulder, and suddenly, the trainees’ movements sped up as if their lives depended on it.

’…Well, if it works, it works.’

Lindarion shook his head and followed Magnus inside.

"You know, Trainee One, you’re too good for the others. You’re not improving at all fighting them. It’s obvious you’re holding back."

Magnus’s voice was level but firm as they stepped into his office.

’Not bad.’

Lindarion’s sharp green eyes flicked over the room.

Two massive windows let the endless sunlight flood in. A grand oak desk sat at the center, covered in disorganized papers.

Two leather chairs were around it, worn but they looked expensive. The walls bore paintings—not as refined as the palace in Eldorath, but they radiated dedication, the kind that couldn’t be faked.

"I know. But that’s life. I still have room to grow. Whether it be swordsmanship or anything else."

Lindarion sank into the leather chair with deliberate ease. It felt relaxing.

’I need to get one of these someday.’

He leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, eyes flicking to Magnus.

"Of course you do. But you’re fighting people years older than you. They’re not the best. Not geniuses like some people."

Magnus smirked, locking eyes with him.

Lindarion smirked back. "This is the part where you tell me you have a ’special training plan’ for me, right?"

"Haha… You catch on quick, brat." Magnus’s grin widened. "Yeah, I called in someone who can actually push you."

Something in his expression set off alarms in Lindarion’s head as his long pointy ears twitched.

That smile looks… shady as hell.

"I’ve got a few months before the academy. At least tell me who this mystery training partner is."

Lindarion’s voice cooled, and for a split second, Magnus felt like he was standing before a king. Yet his smile didn’t waver.

’So the academy’s on his mind.’

Magnus seemed to ponder something before finally speaking.

"He’s standing behind you."

Lindarion’s instincts flared. His body twisted around, ready to react—

And there he was.

A tall figure stood motionless, draped in a pitch-black cloak that swallowed light itself. Long black hair framed a face marked by a single deep scar, stretching diagonally across his cheek. His eyes—black, yet glowing—pierced through the dim room.

What the hell? I didn’t even sense him.

Lindarion’s pupils shrank slightly. His voice remained steady. "Who is he?"

Magnus grinned. "Meet Erebus."

Magnus walked towards him and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder—only for Erebus to brush it off with a flick of his fingers, as if discarding dirt.

"Don’t touch me again."

His voice was sharp, cold.

Magnus’s grin twitched.

Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "Fine. Let’s just get to it. Show me what you can do."

Erebus didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled out a small black cube and placed it on the desk.

Lindarion’s eyes narrowed. ’Oh, great. Let me guess—’

"You’re gonna teleport us inside it, aren’t you?" he deadpanned.

Erebus simply nudged the cube forward.

The world around them shattered.

They landed on an endless stone pathway stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was dense, heavy with something… unnatural.

"Wow. Shocking," Lindarion muttered, rolling his shoulders as he turned to face Erebus.

"Alright. Let’s not waste time, show me how strong you are."

Without hesitation, Lindarion kicked off the ground, launching toward Erebus at full speed—

Erebus didn’t move.

Then, from beneath his cloak, chains slithered into the air.

’What the hell…Chains?’

They whipped forward, twisting like living serpents.

Lindarion’s instincts screamed. He pivoted mid-air, barely dodging the first strike—only for another chain to coil around his leg.

Before he could react, the world flipped upside down.

’I’m fucked.’

SLAM!

His head smashed into the stone ground.

SLAM!

Again.

"It might be enough, Erebus."

Magnus said from next to Erebus however he clearly didn’t reach his ears.

SLAM!

Erebus smashed Lindarion’s head into the ground again.

’What. The. Hell. Fuck. My. Life.’

His thoughts rattled as his skull met the pavement over and over like a cursed drumbeat.

Magnus and Erebus stood in silence, watching the one-sided beatdown unfold.

Then, as suddenly as it started, Erebus released him.

Lindarion’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud—motionless.

"…"

The three of them stood still, well, two of them stood to be more precise in complete silence.

Erebus walked toward Lindarion, his footsteps eerily silent.

Without a word, he knelt beside him, reached into the abyss of his cloak, and produced a vial filled with a murky liquid. He pried Lindarion’s mouth open and poured the concoction down his throat.

’What the…?’

The sharp bitterness jolted his senses. A strange warmth spread through his body, and the fog clouding his mind began to clear.

Lindarion groaned, pushing himself up. His hand instinctively went to his head, expecting pain, blood—something.

But when he looked at his hand, it wasn’t bloody at all.

Instead, when he looked down, the only thing bloody was the ground itself.

’Did he just… heal me?’

His moment of clarity lasted all of three seconds.

Because Erebus’s cloak stirred. And from its depths, the chains emerged once more.

’Oh, you have got to be kidding me—’

Lindarion’s body reacted before his mind did. He twisted, barely dodging the first chain, then the second, his movements fueled by pure desperation.

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’He just smashed my skull into the ground, and now he’s already going for round two?!’

The frustration boiled over. He activated his skill—

[Shadow Step]

The world blurred, his body flickering through the distance

And then, instantly, a chain caught his arm mid-movement.

Before he could process what had happened—

CRACK.

A sickening, bone-deep snap rang through the air.

Lindarion’s vision whited out. His entire body seized up as agony shot through his shoulder like molten metal.

Erebus remained still, unbothered. Magnus, on the other hand, flinched ever so slightly.

Lindarion’s breath hitched. His pupils shrank as he stared at his arm—hanging limp, useless, searing with pain.

And then it hit.

"AAAGH!—"

His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground. His fingers clawed at the stone, his breathing ragged. The pain was raw, relentless, unlike anything he’d felt before. Except for the time when he fought the Dark King.

"F—fuck…!"

The words barely escaped his clenched teeth. Tears stung at his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his own voice cracked the air.

’T-This fucking bastard…he broke my shoulder..’