A Message

As they returned to the hall, almost no one noticed them—except for Seraphine. Everyone else was too occupied with the festival, lost in conversations and merriment.

When they reached Lindarion's family, he spotted another noble house nearby. Their distinct brown hair was unmistakable.

'Lorienyans?'

Thalorin cleared his throat, a subtle yet commanding gesture that immediately drew everyone's attention.

'Of course he would do that.'

Eldrin stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Lindarion's shoulder before looking at Thalorin. The older elf simply smiled and gave a small nod. Eldrin returned the gesture.

'So they had this planned all along…?'

"These are Vaelthorne, Sylwen, and Orlan Ironbark—the noble family of Lorienya," Eldrin introduced them, motioning toward the man, the woman, and the timid young boy hiding behind his mother.

"Lindarion Sunblade, a pleasure to meet you." Lindarion inclined his head slightly. They returned the gesture with warm smiles.

"We've heard much about you, Lindarion. Your duel against Sylas was nothing short of extraordinary. To wield such power at your age—truly remarkable."

Vaelthorne, the king of Lorienya, spoke first, his tone carrying both admiration and curiosity.

"Tell me, when did you begin training? And how is it possible that you've already awakened a Mana Core?"

His manner of speech… It reminded Lindarion of someone.

'Just as talkative as Sylvie.'

Suppressing a sigh, Lindarion shook his head slightly before answering.

"It was all thanks to my exceptional teacher."

He turned slightly and gestured toward Seraphine. The entire group—including Seraphine herself—raised their eyebrows.

'Sorry.'

He mouthed the word at her. But he had no choice—he had to deflect all this questioning somehow.

Seraphine responded with an icy, almost devilish smile before turning to them. The moment their eyes met hers, the questions ceased entirely.

'I still have much to learn.'

The rest of the festival passed uneventfully. Nobles feasted, drank, and conversed as if this were nothing more than a grand family gathering—with the added twist of politics, alliances, and power struggles in the background.

'So, almost like a family gathering after all.'

As the night progressed, the noble houses gradually began to retire. Then, amidst the fading revelry, Lindarion heard Arthion's voice ring out from outside.

"People of Elarion! Now, our King Eldrin shall address all of us!"

Eldrin placed a hand on Lindarion's shoulder and led him up to the stage—a grand structure of dark oak, its edges adorned with golden carvings.

'I don't like this… What is he planning?'

The plaza pulsed with life, torchlight casting golden hues over the assembled crowd.

Eldrin Sunblade, Lindarion's father, stepped forward.

With a single motion, the voices of hundreds if not thousands fell silent.

"Children of Eldorath!" His deep voice echoed across the city.

"Tonight, we celebrate not only our traditions but who we are! Warriors, scholars, sages—a people who shall never bow to anyone!"

Passion burned in his words as his gaze swept over his subjects.

'He definitely rehearsed this.'

"Our strength lies in our roots, but our future is ours to forge! And tonight, a new era begins!"

He paused, then turned to look at Lindarion.

"Lindarion Sunblade, my son, my heir… the leader of the age to come."

'No way. He can't be serious.'

The crowd held its breath, all eyes now locked onto Lindarion.

He stepped forward, inhaling deeply. The weight of the moment pressed against him.

"The elves will be the strongest race. And I will lead us to the top."

The words were simple, yet their impact was immediate. Silence lingered for just a second—then the plaza erupted into deafening cheers.

'Like children.'

Lindarion mused, allowing a small smirk to slip through.

From the side, his mother and father nodded in approval, while Thalorin watched with a satisfied grin. The festival was no longer just a celebration of tradition—it had become the dawn of a new age. An age Lindarion was now expected to lead.

'This is going to be hard.'

He let out a quiet sigh as the night's festivities gradually drew to a close.

A few hours later, the noble families began to take their leave. As expected, the Vaeriths left without a word, as if they had never been here at all.

'Who would've thought.'

Lindarion shook his head.

The Silverleaf family approached them next.

"We will likely meet again soon," Vaelion said coolly, his sharp gaze passing over Eldrin and then settling on Lindarion.

"You two will meet again at the Academy if all goes well," Sylvaris added, placing a hand on Luneth's shoulder.

The silver-haired elf stared at Lindarion with those ghostly, unreadable eyes.

'…Creepy.'

"Yes, it was a pleasure meeting you," Lindarion replied, inclining his head slightly.

After exchanging parting words with the Ironbark family—who, true to form, spoke at great length—they neared the end of their farewells.

Then, Thalorin approached Lindarion.

"Your training will begin when you're ready. Until then… I'll be watching you with ominous eyes, Prince."

He stroked his beard, smirked, then patted Lindarion's shoulder—before vanishing into thin air. Quite literally. His form dissipated like mist in the wind.

'I'm starting to get used to this.'

Lindarion sighed, shaking his head before stepping into the carriage with his parents.

"The destination is Solrendel," Eldrin declared, knocking once on the carriage wall.

The horses stirred, and the wheels creaked forward.

Seraphine, arms crossed, observed everything in silence from the corner of the carriage. Ever watchful, like a phantom.

'As always.'

The journey home was quiet. Exhaustion hung over them like a thick mist, and no one spoke a word.

Lindarion, too, felt its weight pressing down on him.

Before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook him.

Then, as if slipping between the cracks of reality, he found himself floating in a familiar, endless darkness.

'I've been here before.'

A voice broke the silence.

"Congratulations on forming your Lesser Core, my student."

Before him stood Luneth.

No… not Luneth.

"Master Ouroboros?"

His head tilted slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

"Not fond of this form?" Ouroboros asked, amusement lacing his voice.

"It's… an odd choice." Lindarion rested his chin on his hand, studying him.

"Then perhaps this is better?"

In an instant, Ouroboros's body expanded—twisting, shifting—until a colossal serpent coiled before Lindarion, stretching hundreds of meters into the void.

Lindarion's breath hitched as he took in the sheer scale of him. The weight of his presence pressed down on his very being.

"Honestly… yes."

Lindarion's response was firm, surprising even Ouroboros. The serpent let out a deep, resonant chuckle.

"You really do resemble him in every way." Ouroboros's voice held an air of nostalgia as he slithered closer.

"But I doubt you came here just to congratulate me," Lindarion said, narrowing his eyes.

"There must be a reason for this meeting."

Ouroboros's laughter faded, replaced by a knowing smirk.

"Use the powers I've given you more often. You'll find them… quite useful in the future."

With those parting words, he shifted back into Luneth's form and snapped her fingers—

And Lindarion woke up with a start.

The gentle rocking of the carriage returned, the familiar sounds of hooves striking the dirt road filling his ears.

Through the small window, he saw the faint glow of Solrendel's torches in the distance.

'Use my powers more?'

Was it a warning? A test?

[Ouroboros wouldn't give meaningless messages.]

Eldrin's voice cut through Lindarion's thoughts all of a sudden.

"We're home."

The carriage slowed as they passed through the palace gates.

Outside, a row of maids stood waiting, their heads bowed in greeting as the wheels came to a final stop.

As Lindarion stepped out, the weight of Ouroboros's words still lingered.