Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 103: Fighting the elves

Chapter 103: Fighting the elves

The world around Alex was a dizzying blur of heat and motion, the masked elves closing in with a relentless, almost mechanical precision that made his heart pound like a war drum in his chest.

His eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape, his mind still reeling from the system’s chime: <Pyrotechnics is locked>.

Desperation clawed at him, and he checked the system again, his breath hitching as a new message glowed in his vision:

<Pyrotechnics locked until Level 5>.

A surge of frustration crashed through him—Level 5?

He was nowhere near that, and the realization hit like a fist to the gut, sharp and bruising. His telekinesis was already strained, flickering like a dying ember, and his infliction ability, untested in a fight this brutal, felt like a wild card he wasn’t sure he could play.

Options were slipping through his fingers, and the elves’ menacing advance left no room for mistakes.

The first elf thrust their hands forward, conjuring a roaring ball of fire that tore through the air, its crackling intensity painting the path in flickering orange light.

Alex lunged to the side, his muscles screaming, his boots skidding on the uneven ground.

But he wasn’t fast enough. The fireball’s edge grazed his arm, the searing heat sinking into his skin like a thousand white-hot needles. Pain erupted, sharp and unrelenting, a fiery ache that pulsed with every heartbeat.

He bit his lip hard, the coppery taste of blood grounding him as he swallowed a cry. No way was he giving these attackers the satisfaction of hearing him scream, no matter how much his arm throbbed, the scorched skin red and angry under the tattered sleeve of his tunic.

There was no time to dwell on the injury. The elf who’d thrown the fireball was already summoning another, their paper bag mask grotesque in its blank simplicity, their posture radiating unshakable confidence.

Alex’s red eyes darted to the other two elves, his stomach plummeting as he realized the one circling to his left had vanished.

The sudden absence sent a chill skittering down his spine, cold and sharp, but he couldn’t afford to wonder where they’d gone. The second fireball hurtled toward him, its glow casting harsh, dancing shadows across the path, the heat warping the air.

This time, Alex was ready. He dove to the side, rolling across the rough ground, grass and dirt scraping against his tender arm, each contact a fresh stab of pain.

The fireball missed, sizzling as it slammed into a nearby shrub, igniting it with a crackle that sent sparks spiraling into the dusky air.

Alex scrambled to his feet, his breath ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself.

Where was the third elf? The question gnawed at him, a persistent dread, but before he could scan the shadows, a sharp, blinding pain exploded at the back of his head.

The blow was sudden, brutal, a force that sent him crashing to his knees, the world tilting wildly. Stars danced at the edges of his vision, his head throbbing as if it might split open.

The vanished elf had reappeared, likely teleporting, a trick he hadn’t anticipated.

The masked figure loomed over him, their paper bag mask eerie in the firelight, and before Alex could react, they delivered a swift kick to his side.

The impact stole his breath, a gasp escaping as pain radiated through his ribs, sharp and bone-deep.

He doubled over, clutching his side, his mind a haze of shock and desperation, the ground cold beneath his trembling hands.

A clear chime cut through the chaos: <Unleash Infliction? No block detected.>

The system glow was faint, almost invisible , but to Alex, it was a lifeline, a flicker of hope in the darkness.

He didn’t hesitate. "Yes," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, raw with pain as he poured every ounce of will into the ability. Unleash it.

The infliction surged outward, an invisible wave of raw, primal force that erupted from him like a storm.

It slammed into the elf standing over him and the flame-throwing elf a few paces away, both staggering as if struck by an unseen fist.

They clutched their heads, agonized groans tearing from their throats, the paper bags crinkling as they doubled over, trembling under the infliction’s mental assault.

Alex’s head pounded, the effort draining him, a dull ache spreading through his skull, but he forced himself to stay upright, his knees shaking, his red eyes blazing with defiance as he glared at his attackers.

The third elf, untouched by the infliction, froze a short distance away. Their masked head tilted, their stance radiating confusion, hands twitching as if caught between attacking or fleeing.

Alex’s chest heaved, his scorched arm and bruised ribs screaming with every breath, but he locked eyes with them through the holes in their mask, his gaze unyielding, daring them to try him.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning leaves, the smoldering shrub casting a faint, eerie glow that flickered across the path.

Before anything could happen, a faint, casual whistle broke through the tension, wildly out of place.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path, steady and unhurried, and Sir Orion strolled into view, his wiry frame relaxed, a scroll tucked under one arm.

His tune faltered as he took in the scene: Alex on his knees, battered and defiant, two masked elves writhing in pain, their groans muffled, the third standing uncertainly, and the burning shrub casting a haze of smoke.

His brows shot up, his dark eyes widening in shock, then narrowing with a sharper, more authoritative glint, his relaxed demeanor vanishing like a snuffed flame.

"What in the name of the stars is going on here?" Sir Orion demanded, his voice slicing through the smoky air like a blade, sharp and commanding.

The scroll slipped from under his arm, tumbling forgotten to the ground, as he strode forward, his gaze darting between the masked figures and Alex’s bruised, defiant form, the weight of his authority settling over the chaotic scene like a storm cloud.