Unauthorized Reincarnation

  Chapter 12: Consequences (Part 3)

  The ridge was quiet, save for the wind that carried the dust of the collapsed dungeon.

  Shuyi’s breath trembled as she looked from face to face. Her sharp eyes blurred with tears, but still she searched them—one by one.

  Lily’s sobs cut deepest of all. The girl clutched her swords as though they could anchor her to the world, but her body shook like a child abandoned in the dark. The saintess knelt beside her, whispering gentle words, her white vestments glowing faintly with healing light, but it was little comfort.

  The dwarven girls close to Alaric, their voices low, recounting their “battle” inside the dungeon. Their words rang hollow in Shuyi’s ears. Lies, polished and rehearsed.

  Shuyi’s hands clenched. Memories replayed like shards in her mind—the dungeon’s threshold shattering, the sudden split that tore their party in two, the crushing collapse that sealed the mountain. And now… Fenra and Sarvar were gone. Vanished without a trace.

  Her sharp gaze swept over the survivors—the elves standing untouched, the dwarves recounting tales of their “struggles,” Alaric glowing like a savior at dawn. All of them alive. Unscathed.

  Fenra, the one who mattered most, and thier new companion Sarvar are lost in the dark

  Something was wrong. Every detail scraped at her instincts until the truth bled through.

  Her bowstring thrummed before her mind even caught up.

  Thwip!

  An arrow split the air and buried itself clean through one elf’s skull. No scream, no blood. The black-robed figure stiffened, body hardening, then cracked.

  Stone.

  The statue collapsed into lifeless fragments at Alaric’s boots. Dust spiraled into the wind.

  Every head turned. Silence pressed down heavier than steel.

  Alaric knelt slowly by the shattered remains. His gauntleted fingers brushed the stone cheek, and when he lifted his face, wet trails gleamed down his golden skin.

  A tear struck the statue’s rubble, vanishing into dust.

  When he spoke, his voice was calm, but it carved the air like a blade.

  “As the eldest son of King Cassian Veylor… I hold his crown while he lies ill. And in the name of that crown—” his blue eyes blazed, “—I, Alaric Veylor, King of Humanity, declare you…”

  He rose to his full height, every syllable ringing like judgment.

  “…the enemy of mankind.”

  The dwarven girls stepped forward in unison, steel echoing as they drove their weapons into the ground. Their voices joined his, fierce and absolute.

  “We, Jetta and Onyxia, daughters of King Thorrin Gemcutter, heirs to the dwarven throne—declare you the enemy of dwarves.”

  Shuyi’s chest heaved, but before she could move, Lily staggered forward, tears streaking her pale face.

  “Stop! Please! There’s been enough—”

  But Jetta’s hand shot out, seizing her wrist, and in a brutal motion she slammed Lily down into the dirt. The girl cried out, pinned beneath the dwarf’s crushing strength.

  Alaric advanced step by step, his shadow swallowing Shuyi where she stood. His golden boots struck the earth with merciless rhythm. His eyes—still wet with tears—now burned with murderous fire.

  Shuyi raised her bow again, her vision warped by grief and rage. Her voice cracked as she whispered through clenched teeth.

  “Then so be it.”

  Their gazes locked—her wet eyes brimming with defiance, his shining with sovereign wrath.

  And the storm between them began to break.

  Alaric’s gauntlet clamped around Shuyi’s throat, forcing her down into the dirt. His weight crushed against her chest, every breath smothered beneath his grip. She clawed at his wrist, nails scraping golden steel, but his strength was absolute.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Her vision blurred.

  And then the past bled through.

  “Shuyi Zhang—” A teacher’s voice, warm, echoing down the hall. “She’s the smartest girl in our school. Take her as your example.”

  Another voice, proud and expectant. “She is the pride of the university, the sharpest mind among you.”

  Applause. Congratulations. Flashbulbs. “The best employee in the entire bank—Shuyi Zhang!”

  The memories stuttered, cracking under a darker weight.

  Numbers flashing on a screen. Calculations etched into her mind. The missing sums, the shifting accounts. And then—

  A truck outside the company, unscheduled, suspicious.

  She remembered stepping forward. Her voice, calm but firm.

  “Hey, we’re not sending goods today. It must be a mistake—you shouldn’t be here.”

  A hand had fallen on her shoulder then, heavy and false.

  “Why don’t you let me handle this, Shuyi Zhang? Regulations aren’t your job. Go back to your desk.”

  Jun Chao. The General Manager.

  But she hadn’t gone back. She went higher. To the director’s office. She laid out the numbers, the pattern, the missing trail. Her voice steady:

  “It’s Jun Chao. He’s behind it.”

  The director’s expression unreadable. His hand dialing the phone.

  “Has anyone else heard this from you?”

  “No,” she had answered.

  The door opened. Closed. Locked.

  Jun Chao’s smile was a knife. His hand was a vice. He shoved her to the carpet, his grip closing around her throat.

  “You’re too smart for your own good,” he hissed. “A girl like you… what a waste.”

  Her lungs had burned. Her body had thrashed. And just before the world went dark, those words seared into her:

  Too smart for your own good.

  Now—

  Alaric’s hand tightened, and the same fire of suffocation surged in her chest. The same helplessness. The same end.

  Her legs kicked weakly, the dirt biting into her skin. Her glasses cracked against the ground. Her vision swam with past and present, Jun Chao’s sneer bleeding into Alaric’s tear-streaked face.

  History was repeating.

  And Shuyi realized, with crushing clarity, that she was once again being strangled to death for daring to see too much.

  DEATH.

  Lily could not move. Could not think.

  Pinned beneath the dwarven sisters’ weight, she could only watch—helpless—as Alaric’s hand crushed the last breath from Shuyi’s throat.

  Her mind screamed. But her body would not answer.

  Shuyi’s glassed-over eyes stared skyward, unblinking. The girl who had once spoken with such cutting logic, who had guided Lily through countless doubts, now lay limp in the dirt.

  Something inside Lily shattered and ignited.

  Her promise to carry the Kardelis legacy. Her vow to protect the weak. All the oaths and ideals she had clung to—they were kindling. Useless. Meant nothing. Held no weight, fragile things and all burned away in the pure, white-hot furnace of her rage. They were lies that got good people killed. Shuyi was dead. Justice was a fairy tale. There was only cause, and effect.

  Her mind fixated on one thing: how to tear his head from his shoulders.

  And then the system stirred.

  Ding.

  Conditions met.

  Would you like to use your special skill?

  The Blessing of Dyrk, the God of Darkness.

  Her tears blurred the screen, but her voice trembled out:

  “I accept.”

  The world changed.

  Light bled from the clearing. Even the sun still hung above, but it dimmed, devoured. Shadows thickened until even breath felt swallowed. The darkness clung to Lily’s skin, her eyes burning crimson as her body became the vessel of night itself.

  The dwarves never had a chance. Her blades flashed once, twice—blood splattering as their armor split like parchment. Behind them, the saintess gasped, lifting her staff—only to fall in silence, her white vestments torn through by Lily’s strike.

  Shadows rippled outward. The survivors recoiled in terror.

  Lily stood trembling in the sea of black, her blades dripping. Her voice was raw, feral, the voice of a child who had lost everything.

  “Alaric… you are dead meat.”

  He stepped forward, sword raised. The golden light of his armor blazed brighter against the suffocating dark.

  “Then come, chosen soul. Let us see which fate bends first.”

  They clashed.

  Steel howled. Darkness met radiance. Each strike tore the clearing apart—trees split, stones shattered, the earth itself gouged by their fury. Time bled away. Minutes, hours—the battle consumed them both, until exhaustion clung heavier than their armor.

  At last, blades locked, both of them trembling, breath ragged.

  Alaric’s eyes burned with conviction, but his words fell soft, almost pleading.

  “One of mine lies dead. And I… killed one of yours. Then you struck down three more. Don’t you see it, Lily? This cycle—it cannot continue.”

  Her teeth clenched, but his words dug deep, insidious and calm.

  He pressed further.

  “We are weapons in the hands of fate. If we keep swinging blindly, there will be nothing left but corpses. But if we stop now—just now—we can break the chain. Together.”

  Her grip faltered. The darkness flickered, wavering against his golden light.

  Slowly, painfully, Lily lowered her blades. The shadows recoiled into her, shriveling, until the world brightened once more. The sun returned.

  And she collapsed.

  The blessing left her like water drained from a vessel. Her body hit the dirt, unconscious, fragile.

  Alaric stood over her, his chest heaving, his armor cracked, his sword chipped. He looked up—at the sun now fallen, at the sky now drowned in night.

  “…Hours,” he whispered, horror dawning in his voice. “We fought for hours.”

  His eyes widened. “This… cannot be. Is this the consequence of trying to alter fate?”

  From the shadows, the last surviving elf stepped forward, her black robe trailing in silence. Her mouth opened—words trembling on her tongue.

  But before sound could escape, the earth shook.

  The King’s Fall Mountains split with a thunderous roar. Lightning tore across the sky, jagged arcs striking peak after peak. Stone burst apart like shrapnel, entire ridges collapsing in showers of fire and dust.

  The barrier that had divided human and dwarf lands for centuries… was no more.

  The mountain had been destroyed from within.

  And the storm of consequences had only begun.