Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 37: Dungeon Clearing (1)

"Understood, Instructor Magnus," Lindarion's voice rang out confidently across the courtyard.

Magnus nodded, and the murmuring students fell silent. His gaze held something strange—was it fear? Or regret?

'What's with him? He's acting weird.'

"A portal will materialize behind you. It will take you to the dungeon's entrance."

Then, he pulled a small triangular object from his pocket—something like an Illuminati symbol.

'That tiny thing is supposed to open a portal? Really?'

Then Lindarion reminded himself—it wasn't the size that mattered, but the artifact's power.

Magnus placed the triangle behind the ten trainees, and the very air trembled.

'There's so much mana in the atmosphere...'

He stepped forward, handing each trainee a small cube—about the size of a smartphone, but without a screen.

"You'll use these to communicate. Just channel mana into them when you need to speak."

'So basically... a mana-powered walkie-talkie?'

Magnus took a step back.

Mana surged, distorting the air itself. The trainees' bodies tensed as the portal fully materialized before them.

The other students instinctively backed away, leaving only the ten chosen and Magnus near the portal.

"Step through, one at a time!"

He had to shout over the howling winds and the unstable space around them.

'This is insane...'

Lindarion nodded and stepped toward the portal.

Magnus' thoughts swirled.

'Good luck, kid.'

One by one, the trainees crossed without hesitation.

As Lindarion entered, darkness swallowed him. Space twisted around him—then, suddenly, he hit the ground.

This time, he landed on his feet.

The others? Not so much. They rolled and tumbled out of the portal behind him. Ignoring their groans, Lindarion took in his surroundings.

They were deep in a forest. Trees stretched as far as the eye could see—not that it was far, given how dense the woods were. The scent of flowers filled the air, and birds chirped in the distance.

And right in front of them—

A massive dungeon gate.

Its entrance was sealed by a translucent, glowing purple barrier.

{Can you hear me, trainees?}

Magnus' voice came through the cubes, still firm despite the distortion.

Lindarion gripped his device, channeling mana into it.

{Trainee One reporting. We hear you loud and clear, Instructor.}

He tested the device while the others surveyed their surroundings—some with confidence, others with hesitation.

'What's waiting for us inside...?'

Lindarion shook the thought away and refocused.

{Instructor, we're ready to move in.}

Magnus' voice echoed through the cubes.

{Team Leader, the dungeon entrance is blocked by a mana shield. It should allow you to enter freely but prevent monsters or any other creatures from escaping. Report back once you're inside.}

The trainees exchanged glances before turning to Lindarion.

'I'm not exactly leadership material...'

Still, he exhaled and steadied his voice.

"Prepare your weapons. We have no idea what's inside."

The others nodded. They knew the truth—they weren't chosen at random. And Lindarion wasn't placed in charge for nothing.

He scanned his team. Four swordsmen. A spear-wielding girl. Three archers. And one trainee with... a staff?

'Looks like a supporting character from a video game.'

"Trainee 112, what's your specialty?"

He turned to the blue-haired girl. Her hair shimmered like ocean waves, but her deep brown eyes held uncertainty.

"I—I use enhancement and debuff techniques. The staff helps me cast them faster."

Her voice was soft, unsure. Understandable, given the situation.

"Stay in the back. No exceptions."

Lindarion's tone was firm, allowing no room for debate. The girl only nodded in response.

"Let's move—together."

His voice carried authority and confidence. He had to project strength. Weakness wasn't an option.

The trainees gave their final nods. Then, moving as one, they stepped through the dungeon's entrance.

The moment they passed the barrier, the world twisted.

When they regained their senses—

They stood in a long hallway.

'This... doesn't feel right.'

Lindarion took in their surroundings while the others got back on their feet.

Stone columns lined the passage, torches casting flickering shadows against the walls. At the far end, a massive marble door loomed shut.

His sharp gaze swept across his team, making sure they were all accounted for.

'So far, so good.'

He activated his cube, sending mana into it.

{Instructor Magnus, we've entered the dungeon.}

{Understood, Team Leader. Begin dungeon exploration and report if you encounter major issues.}

Magnus's voice echoed through everyone's devices before all eyes turned to Lindarion.

'...Time to step into the unknown.'

"Move out. Archers stay at the rear, swordsmen take the front. 112, you stay at the very back."

Then, he glanced at the spear-wielding girl.

'Where would she be most effective...'

"Number Eight, position yourself slightly behind the swordsmen."

The girl nodded, following his orders without question.

'I'm just using strategies I've seen in games... I hope they actually work.'

The team quickly adjusted to the formation before approaching the massive stone gate. Lindarion stood at the front—not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

He hated this role. He didn't even want it. But if his father had sent him to this camp, he had to have known about today's dungeon. There was a reason for everything.

'Let's see what's waiting on the other side.'

"Stay ready, we don't know what's waiting for us."

Lindarion didn't shout, but his voice carried enough weight that everyone heard him loud and clear.

Placing both hands on the heavy gate, he began to push. A deep, grating noise echoed through the dungeon as the stone doors slowly groaned open.

'If nothing knew we were coming, they sure as hell do now.'

However, once the doors fully opened... nothing happened.

Silence.

A thick mist blanketed the entire chamber, dense enough to obscure everything past a few steps.

'...This is way too suspicious.'

[Mana Perception]

As his vision pierced through the fog, a cold chill ran down his spine.

There, within the mist, stood ten armored humanoid creatures, their swords gripped tightly. The eerie fog billowed from their mouths as though they exhaled it, cloaking them in a perfect veil.

"There are ten of them," Lindarion whispered.

The group's reactions varied—some stiffened in fear, while others simply nodded.

'There are also ten of us though. We can handle this.'

{Instructor Magnus, we've encountered ten humanoid figures. Engaging in combat now.}

Lindarion's voice was barely above a whisper, but Magnus's response came almost instantly.

{I understand, good luck kid.}

Lindarion stowed the communication device away.

"Attack formation. Archers, get ready. 112, be prepared to support all of us. The rest of you—on me."

Keeping his voice low, he advanced deeper into the mist, the others following close behind like some loyal ducklings.

The moment he stepped forward, the figures lunged toward them—fast, too fast. All at once.

"Attack!"

Lindarion met their charge head-on, sprinting toward the nearest enemy.

As the figures came fully into view, unease flickered across some of his teammates' faces. But none of them backed down.

"Archers, fire!"

His command rang through the battlefield as he narrowly dodged a sword slash, his movement fluid—almost like a dancer. But before he could counter, another enemy aimed straight for his back.

'Fuck.'

[Pure Mana Shield]

The attack rebounded harmlessly off the barrier, sending the figure skidding backward. The creature was hit by a sudden arrow on its chest, however, it didn't die just yet.

"They attack in pairs! Watch each other's backs! Swordsmen, fight in teams—don't leave anyone alone!"

Lindarion kicked an enemy away just as two others tackled one of his teammates to the ground.

'God damnit already?!'

[Phantom Step]

He vanished, reappearing beside the downed trainee in an instant. A swift slash cut through the air instantly, the sheer mana behind it distorting the air itself.

One enemy managed to retreat in time, narrowly escaping the fatal blow. However the other vanished into nothingness as Lindarion's sword cut through him.

"Number Twelve, get up! Keep fighting!"

The silver-haired elf scrambled to his feet, his expression hardened.

"Team Leader, enhancements ready!"

'How is he this strong?'

112's voice rang out from behind the archers whilst her thoughts spun around. A sudden surge of power coursed through Lindarion and the others, strengthening their bodies.

'It's not over yet. We need to keep pushing forward.'

Lindarion's gaze flickered across the battlefield, spotting two swordsmen finally managing to cut one of the figures down. It collapsed into the mist, vanishing into nothing.

"Swordsmen, press the attack! Only eight of them are left! We can do this!"

His voice echoed through the chamber—a true battle cry.

Lindarion kept up his attacks, his eyes darting across the battlefield, tracking his teammates' movements. He had no idea how a leader was supposed to act, but he knew one thing—he didn't want to let anyone die here because of him.

'I will keep pushing.'

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Mana gathered in his palm, condensing into a sphere about the size of a tennis ball—but far denser, pulsing with raw energy.

[Mana Shot]

He fired it at the figure that had dodged his sword strike. The projectile struck true, and within seconds, the enemy dissolved into mist.

"Only seven left!"

"Six," an archer corrected.

Lindarion barely had time to register the comment before he saw a mana-infused arrow pierce straight through another enemy's head. The two locked eyes for a brief moment, exchanging a quick nod before returning to the fight.

"We're close! Don't let up now!"

His voice rang through the battlefield, and his teammates responded—pushing forward with everything they had.