Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 98: New Class

Selene hadn't moved since she reappeared.

One leg crossed over the other, sleeves draped neatly, she perched atop his desk like a statue from a forgotten temple—serene, unreadable, and vaguely disappointed in the mortal world.

Lindarion leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his chin.

"You're glaring at me again," he said.

"I'm not glaring," Selene replied softly. "I'm observing."

"Feels the same."

Selene's silver eyes narrowed. "You summoned me and then immediately started brooding. What did you expect me to do?"

"…Sit quietly and look aesthetic maybe?"

A pause.

Then her lips twitched. Barely.

"I do that by default, Young Master." she murmured.

Lindarion let his head fall back against the chair. The ceiling didn't have answers, but it also didn't ask questions.

"You did well today," Selene added, her voice quieter. "This Kael boy was overconfident. It was definitely satisfying to do it."

Lindarion let out a low breath. "He wasn't the worst part. Just the most predictable."

"They're starting to see you," she said.

"That was the idea."

"No. I mean truly see you. Not the numbers. You."

Lindarion didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Because the knock came next.

Sharp. Controlled. Two beats. Then another.

Selene was gone before he moved—slipping into the folds of the room's shadow like ink sinking into silk. The air grew still again, all traces of her presence erased.

Lindarion stood, straightened his sleeves, and opened the door.

Vivienne.

'What does she want now?'

One hand braced on the doorframe, expression unusually serious. No eye roll. No smug remark. Just eyes that looked like they'd been searching.

"You're hard to find," she said.

"I'm not hiding," Lindarion replied.

"Funny. Because Jack's lapdogs are out there asking very loudly where you are."

Lindarion blinked. "So you came to warn me?"

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"I came because I knew you wouldn't care enough to run if it were real trouble," Vivienne said dryly. "And because Nyx told me to find you."

That made him pause.

"She did?"

Vivienne nodded. "Someone's asking questions. Even a few third-years. Not about your tests or anything. About you."

"Specifics?"

"Family. Background. Magical discipline. A few idiots think you're being tutored in secret. Others think you're a plant."

Lindarion's brow furrowed slightly. "A plant?"

"Like someone put you here to monitor something. Or someone."

He scoffed. "That's stupid."

Vivienne stepped inside, uninvited but entirely at ease. She glanced around his room, brows lifting slightly at the neatness.

"No friends visiting?" she asked absently.

"I don't invite people."

"Clearly."

Lindarion shut the door behind her.

"What does Nyx want?" he asked.

"To see you. Now."

Lindarion crossed his arms. "Why didn't she just send someone else?"

"She did." Vivienne gave him a look. "Me."

'Right.'

Lindarion ran a hand through his hair. Selene, hidden in the walls, hadn't stirred. But he felt her presence settle like a watchful breeze—waiting.

"Alright," he said, grabbing his coat. "Let's go."

Vivienne opened the door.

"She said one more thing."

Lindarion paused. "What?"

Vivienne glanced back at him.

"She said: 'Tell Sunblade if he doesn't hurry, I'm letting the dummies punch him in the throat next class.'"

A beat.

Lindarion sighed.

"…Fair."

—

The corridors were half-lit and mostly empty.

The academy had a strange way of quieting after nightfall. Not soft—just… watchful. As if the walls were listening. Judging. Occasionally mocking.

Lindarion walked beside Vivienne in silence, the soles of their boots barely audible over the polished stone.

Vivienne glanced sideways. "You look like you're about to be sentenced."

"I'm not exactly sure what to expect, maybe praise?"

"You should be expecting praise." She paused. "But you won't get it."

They turned down the narrow east stairwell—Nyx's hall—and stopped at the door with the chalk sigils sketched faintly along the frame.

Vivienne didn't knock.

She pushed the door open and walked in like it belonged to her.

Lindarion followed.

Inside, the air was still.

Not heavy. Not magical. It was just still.

Nyx sat at her desk—not behind it, but sideways, one leg crossed over the other, gaze fixed on a half-burned diagram that hovered in the air before her.

Violet ink dripped off the edge like oil suspended mid-air.

She didn't look up.

"I told you to bring him, took so long."

Vivienne didn't flinch. "I brought him."

Nyx tilted her head slightly. "Took long enough."

"I had a hard time due to some circumstances."

Nyx raised a brow. "Then I'll compliment your persistence later."

Vivienne smirked, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms. "Can't wait."

Lindarion remained standing.

"…You wanted to see me."

Nyx finally turned.

Her expression wasn't angry. Or impressed. Or anything he could immediately name.

Just… sharp.

"You performed well, as I said earlier." she said simply.

'We've been through this already.'

Lindarion didn't answer.

Nyx stood, brushing a streak of chalk off her dark robes as she circled around the desk. "Threading is not meant to be mastered in days. It's a technique most only taste when their lives are at stake."

'Because it's similar to my mana thread manipulation.'

"I've had practice…I guess."

"I noticed."

She stopped in front of him.

Not looming. Not intimidating.

Just… present.

"You know why I'm annoyed?" she asked.

'Why would she be annoyed?'

"…Because the other students failed?"

"Because I was planning to use this class to weed out the inflated egos. Let them fail. Let them panic. That kind of lesson sticks." She paused.

"But then you showed up and handled it like again you'd already fought a dozen battles."

'I have. Just not on record…technically.'

Nyx studied him for a long, silent beat.

"I don't like wasting time, Sunblade. And I especially don't like wasting talent. So I'll ask once."

She leaned in slightly.

"What exactly are you?"

Lindarion blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're not just a first-year with a good core and expensive tutoring. You move like someone who's already lost things. You use mana like it's instinct. That isn't just training."

A silence stretched.

"I'm a student," Lindarion said. "That's all."

Nyx smiled.

It was not kind.

It wasn't cruel either.

Just very, very tired.

"You'll break something eventually," she said. "Either yourself, or something much bigger. Try not to do both at once."

Vivienne let out a low whistle.

Nyx turned away, retrieving a scroll from her desk.

"Next week, you'll be assigned to the practical rotation for threading enhancement. Real pressure. Real injuries. You'll be paired with combat instructors and given higher-grade dummies. If you survive it, you might actually learn something."

Lindarion nodded once. "Understood."

Nyx handed the scroll to Vivienne. "Give this to the registry. I'm expediting his placement."

Vivienne accepted it without comment.

Nyx turned back to Lindarion. "Go get stronger. You're already interesting. Make yourself dangerous."

'Dangerous, huh?'

Lindarion dipped his head slightly. "Anything else?"

Nyx smirked.

"Don't die or get hurt too badly."

—

They left the room in silence again.

Once they were halfway down the stairwell, Vivienne exhaled.

"She likes you."

"…That was her being kind?"

"No," Vivienne said, glancing at him. "That was her way of saying you are good."

Lindarion didn't answer.

He was already thinking ahead.

Threading enhancement. Higher-tier tests. Close-quarters combat.

He could handle it.

But more than that—he needed it.

—

The next day Lindarion stood before the arched doorway of the Threading Enhancement Rotation hall, its ancient oak adorned with intricate carvings of mana flows and protective sigils.

The weight of being the sole first-year among seasoned third-year students pressed upon him, but he masked any trepidation behind a composed facade.

'Let's see what we're working with here.'

Pushing the heavy door open, he stepped into a spacious chamber illuminated by floating orbs casting a cool, bluish light.

The walls were lined with shelves holding various arcane instruments, and the floor bore scorch marks and deep grooves—a testament to rigorous training sessions.

Conversations hushed as the third-year students took notice of the newcomer. A few exchanged glances, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism.

At the center of the room stood the professor, a tall figure with sharp features and an aura of authority. His piercing eyes locked onto Lindarion.

"Ah, the prodigious first-year, just call me Professor Kaelen." Kaelen's voice resonated, carrying a hint of challenge. "Lindarion Sunblade, isn't it?"

Lindarion inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, professor."

Kaelen's gaze swept over the assembled students. "It's rare for someone so green to join this advanced rotation. I trust you won't be a liability."

A ripple of muted chuckles emanated from a cluster of third-years.

Among them, a tall, broad-shouldered student with cropped dark hair and a confident smirk stepped forward.

"Name's Darius," he introduced, arms crossed over his chest.

"We've heard about your… exploits. Let's see if you can keep up."

'My exploits? Huh?'

Lindarion met Darius's gaze evenly. "I'm here to learn and contribute."

Kaelen clapped his hands, drawing attention back to himself. "Enough introductions. Pair up for sparring exercises. Lindarion, you'll partner with Darius."

The students moved swiftly, forming pairs and taking positions on the marked sparring circles.

Lindarion and Darius faced each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension for some reason.