Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 181 - 181: Mana Vampires

Ila had ran off back to the village without hesitation.

Lindarion focused again. Fire warmed his skin. Divine stayed quiet. Ice hummed faintly at the back of his teeth.

Somewhere beyond the snowdrift, something moved.

No footsteps.

Just a shift.

Like breath.

Meren stood.

Ashwing growled louder.

Ren tilted her head. "I'll give it five seconds before it jumps out."

Lindarion sighed.

"Of course," he muttered. "A blocked road wasn't dramatic enough."

He stepped forward.

Ardan beside him.

Lira drawing something that absolutely was not just a knife anymore.

"Let's clear the path," Lindarion said, "and see what tries to stop us."

Ashwing exhaled smoke.

Which, all things considered, was optimistic.

—

The snow stopped moving.

Which was weird, considering the wind hadn't.

Lindarion frowned.

'That's never a good sign. First comes the stillness. Then comes the screaming. Then comes the therapy no one gets.'

A ripple shifted across the trail ahead. Not wind. Not shadow. Just… wrongness. Like the mountain exhaled a secret and forgot to take it back.

Ashwing tensed beside his leg, scales rising slightly. The dragon didn't growl. Didn't hiss. Just stared.

Which was worse.

Lira held up one hand. Her eyes narrowed. Ren stopped beside her, sword halfway drawn.

"I hate that shape," Ren said flatly.

"Which part?" Lindarion asked.

"All of it."

The thing moved again.

It wasn't walking.

It didn't have to.

A long, sleek body crawled across the snow without touching it. Six limbs, all too thin and too long, moved like they were dragging silk across glass.

Its head was shaped like something insectoid had been put through a blender, stretched too tall, and left in a shadow too long.

No eyes.

Just a split in the face. Vertical. Wide. Breathing mana like air.

Meren made a small, uncertain sound. "So… we turn around and pretend we never came here, right?"

"Nope," Ren said, rolling her shoulders. "Now we fight."

"Of course we do," Lindarion muttered. 'Because diplomacy is a dead language, and I left my monster handbook in my other life.'

Lira stepped forward. Her voice was quiet. "Hollowcarver."

Ren tensed. "Seriously?"

Lindarion blinked. "That's not one of the cute ones, is it?"

"No," Lira said. "It drains core magic. Leaves the body."

"Oh good," Lindarion said. "Mana vampires. My favorite."

The Hollowcarver shifted. Its split-face flared open. Not like a mouth. Like a gate. And something behind it inhaled.

Lindarion felt it. A light tug at his chest. Not physical. Not painful.

Just personal.

Like it knew what lived inside him. And was interested.

'Well that's rude.'

Ashwing growled low now. The little dragon moved closer, wings flaring slightly.

"Stay," Lindarion said.

Ashwing didn't listen. Obviously.

The Hollowcarver surged forward. No screech. No roar. Just motion. A blur of limbs and shadow.

Ren moved first. Ice bloomed along her blade as she spun to the side, slashing wide and catching the creature's front limb. Frost exploded from the cut.

No blood. Just a hiss of magic.

Lira came next. No wasted steps. Just steel and speed. Her dagger slipped up under the creature's chest and carved a fast line that didn't cut flesh, but energy. Dark energy.

The Hollowcarver jerked.

Limbs cracked the ice beneath it.

Then it aimed its mouth at them again.

The pull doubled.

Lindarion winced. The fire affinity flared under his skin.

'Not today.'

He raised one hand.

A lance of fire erupted from his palm, straight through the Hollowcarver's upper shoulder. The smell of burning void hit the air.

It didn't scream.

It just turned to him.

Great.

'This is what I get for participating.'

Lira moved again. She didn't yell. She didn't signal. She just hit the thing's exposed neck from the side with a spin that ended in blood.

Or what counted for blood.

The Hollowcarver staggered.

Ren finished it.

One clean cut to the midsection, frozen mana snapping through like glass under pressure.

The Hollowcarver's body twisted once.

Then crumpled.

Then dissolved into a fine mist of unhelpful questions and long-term trauma.

Ashwing chirped.

Meren stared. "We're… alive."

Ren wiped her sword. "For now."

Lindarion stared at the patch of blackened snow. 'That wasn't random.'

He turned to Lira. "Was that normal?"

"No," she said.

Of course it wasn't.

—

Lira rolled her shoulders once, slow and loose. The kind of stretch you do after stabbing something that shouldn't have existed.

Her coat shifted with the motion, flaring slightly in the wind. No dust. No sweat. Just steel and silence.

Ren crouched beside the hollow scorch mark, poking it with the toe of her boot. "Definitely not random."

"Obviously," Lindarion said.

Lira didn't answer. She was still stretching. Now both arms overhead, back arching slightly, like the murderous dance she'd just performed had barely counted as exercise.

'…I feel like I pulled something just watching that.'

She shifted her weight to one leg, rolled her neck once, and made a soft sound that could've been satisfaction or the final click of a puzzle locking into place.

Ren stood again, brushing ice off her gloves. "So. Someone sent that thing, right?"

"Probably," Lira said, as if confirming that the sky was still up.

Lindarion crossed his arms. Not out of defiance. He was just cold. And tired. And slightly offended by how attractive good posture looked on someone who had just executed a monster like she was filing paperwork.

'…How is she more dangerous after the fight ends?'

Ashwing flopped onto the snow beside him with a small huff. Smoke puffed out of one nostril. Possibly a yawn. Possibly a warning. It was hard to tell with him.

Meren had only just stopped whispering to himself. His face was pale. Not in a cowardly way.

"You okay?" Lindarion asked him.

"I think my ancestors felt that one."

'…He'll be fine. He's dramatic, not fragile.'

Ardan didn't say anything. Just kept his gaze on the forest's edge like he expected a second course of horror to arrive late and uninvited.

Lira finally exhaled. No dramatic breath. Just a slow slide back to neutral. She looked at her blade once, wiped it off on the snow with deliberate care, and sheathed it.

Then her eyes found Lindarion.

"You're getting faster," she said.

"Faster at what?" he asked.

"Not dying."

'…High praise. I'll embroider that on a pillow.'

Ren grinned. "He even got a shot in. Fire spear, very classic."

"I was aiming for dramatic impact," Lindarion said, deadpan.

"Ten out of ten," Ren replied. "Very spear-y."

Lira didn't comment further. She just turned toward the path again, her cloak settling around her like it had been trained.

"Let's keep moving," she said. "We don't want to be here when it gets dark."

Meren whimpered softly. "Why? Is it worse at night?"

"No," Lira said.

"But you paused."

"I was deciding whether to say yes."

Lindarion sighed and followed her, boots crunching over what used to be a monster.