Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 100: Discussing with the adults

Chapter 100: Discussing with the adults

Sylra edged closer to Alex, her lips tightening as she leaned in to read the tattered banner he clutched in the ravaged market square of Starhaven, the evening’s starlight casting jagged shadows across the debris.

The air carried a harsh tang of ash, the moans of injured elves weaving through the night, the deep trench in the road a blackened wound, shattered stalls and crumbled buildings stark in the aftermath of the explosion.

Alex’s red eyes traced the bold words "Eclipse: the change is now" a shiver rippling through him, the message’s weight pressing like a cold hand, its intent shadowy but ominous.

Sylra’s face hardened, anger flashing as she snatched the banner, ripping it from the wall with a sharp tear, her voice low, seething.

"I should’ve known it was them," she said, her tone thick with disgust, crumpling the fabric in her fist. "Those miscreants."

Her words burned with contempt, her posture rigid, the market’s chaos a grim stage for her fury.

She turned to Alex, her expression softening, her voice firm but warm. "I need to help the others," she said, her gaze sweeping the wounded elves, some staggering, others cradled. "Stay put, okay?"

She moved swiftly, her figure cutting through the smoke, kneeling beside an elf with gentle, steady hands, the market’s grief a burden she shouldered without hesitation.

Alex crouched, retrieving the torn banner, its words stark: Eclipse: the change is now.

He read it again, the shiver returning, colder, like a whisper of dread, the message stirring something unnameable, as if it spoke to him alone.

His fingers gripped the fabric, the trench’s jagged edge looming, the market’s devastation closing in, distant wails a haunting echo, the starlight stark above.

****

Sylra and Alex sat in Thalorin’s home, a grand hall with soaring ceilings and polished stone walls, the evening’s soft light filtering through tall windows.

They stood across from Thalorin, Jusin, and a third man whose name Alex didn’t know, but whose expression mirrored the others, tight with unease.

All three bore the weight of the recent events on their faces. Thalorin’s brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting another explosion.

Jusin’s jaw was clenched, his fingers twitching at his side, while the third man’s skin had taken on a sickly pallor, as if the color had been drained from him entirely.

Their usual calm had been stripped away, replaced by an anxious tension that clung to them like ash.

The attack on the market still lingered in the air, an unshakable shadow that refused to lift.

Thalorin, broad-shouldered with silver-streaked hair, sat at a long table’s head, his authority strained by concern.

Jusin, weathered and tense, leaned forward, while the third man, tall with a strong jaw, stood stiffly, his gaze piercing.

Sylra’s hair was tied back, her voice steady as she recounted the explosion, Alex adding details—the smoke, the trench, the screams, the banner—their words painting a vivid, chilling picture.

Alex’s eyes flicked between the men, the banner’s message replaying, its eerie chill lingering, the system’s Inflicting hum from the shop a faint anchor.

Sylra’s voice caught only once, describing the injured, her hands clenching, but she pressed on, her account sharp, the hall’s silence amplifying their story, the men’s faces growing grimmer, the table’s polished surface a cold mirror to their tension.

Silence settled over the group, thick but not dramatic, just the kind that made people shift uncomfortably, waiting for someone else to speak.

It lingered for a beat too long before Jusin finally broke it, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

The words came out almost like an afterthought, meant more for himself than anyone else, but clear enough to catch everyone’s attention.

"Eclipse has been stirring trouble for a while," he said, his gaze distant, brow furrowing deeper. "Petty stuff, nothing like this. A bold attack, right in the market square? This is new."

He leaned back, hands gripping the table, his face ashen, the hall’s quiet a stark contrast to his words. "What’s it mean?" he asked, the question unanswered, a quiet plea for clarity, the table’s edge a silent witness to his unease.

The tall man took a slow, deliberate step forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room.

His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles ticking with barely restrained fury.

He lifted one hand and pointed directly at Alex, his finger cutting through the air like a blade.

"He’s the cause," he said, his tone sharp, the hall’s stillness shattering, the words hitting like a shockwave, the table’s surface catching his rigid stance.

Alex’s jaw dropped, shock surging, his voice rising, sharp. "Me? How’s that make sense?" he demanded, leaning forward, hands splaying on the table, the banner’s chill twisting in his gut, Ruben’s accusation a jolt, the hall’s silence amplifying his protest, the men’s pale faces turning to him.

Thalorin’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, steady, firm, and unmistakably in charge.

As he stepped forward, his hair shifted slightly with the motion, brushing back as he raised one hand to stop things from escalating.

"Ruben, don’t sling baseless claims," he said, his tone edged with authority, each word landing with quiet weight. The tall man hesitated, silenced more by presence than volume. "Especially not at a kid."

His glance at Alex was brief, protective, but his face stayed taut, the hall’s tension a tightrope, the men’s worry a palpable weight.

Ruben’s gaze flared, unyielding, his voice climbing, defiant. "Baseless?" he snapped, his jaw clenching, his finger still aimed at Alex.

"Eclipse never pulled anything this big until he showed up, magically integrated into our world." His words were venom, slicing deep, his stance unyielding, the hall’s quiet a stark contrast to his heat.

"He could be one of them, pretending. Or worse, brainwashed by Eclipse, not even knowing it."

His accusation lingered, poisonous, his pale face tight, the table’s edge framing the escalating clash, Jusin’s wrinkles deepening, Thalorin’s expression hardening.

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