'I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!'-Chapter 37: True Intentions

"You should have brought more with you, Kael’thus..." Queen Elarya’s voice rang out from the swirling chaos, calm but sharp as a blade.

The smoke parted with the gusting wind generated by her surging aura. five cloaked figures stood facing her from a distance. The force of her presence alone was enough to whip their hoods back, revealing the faces of the invaders.

Kael’thus stepped forward, his expression both familiar and foreign. "Sister, each of these warriors is handpicked by Lord Thugnaka himself. The Dark Fate needs no army. We alone are enough to bring down Runewood—and claim this sleeping treasure trove for ourselves."

Elarya’s eyes narrowed. "I always thought you were the clever one. I never expected you to fall so far as to join that delusional cult."

Her own aura pulsed in return—calm, deadly, and elegant. The light that shimmered from her body seemed to warp the air itself. The forest held its breath.

Then she turned her gaze to each member of the Dark Fate.

The first was an elderly man, his spine bent and skin pale as paper. His eyes glowed with a strange, glacial gleam. He leaned on a gnarled staff topped with a jagged blue crystal, shaped like an ice spear.

*

Name: Lannic

Level: 65

Title: Lone Tide Breaker

Class: Aquamancer

*

Next to him stood a stout dwarf with a thick beard and eyes like molten iron. He held a two-handed hammer etched with golden runes, its head humming faintly with restrained power.

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Name: Dakulo

Level: 63

Title: Mad Metal Splitter

Class: Dwarven Mage

*

Behind the dwarf stood a red-skinned human, tall and lean, with crackling arcs of electricity dancing along his gloves and boots. His smirk was that of a man who enjoyed the thrill of violence.

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Name: Raijen

Level: 66

Title: Speed Demon

Class: Voltstriker

*

To Kael’thus’s right floated a graceful woman with long turquoise hair. Her lower body was serpentine—she was a naga. Her bow shimmered like flowing water, and her gaze was as calm as a still pond before a storm.

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Name: Slarveon

Level: 62

Title: Last Moonreef Hunter

Class: Naiad Marksman

*

At the center of this group stood Kael’thus himself—the golden-haired elf once destined to unite the elven nations. Now a shadow of that dream.

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Name: Kael’thus

Level: 68

Title: Golden Child of Runewood

Class: Runesword Master (Ascended)

*

Each bore a crescent moon-and-blade tattoo somewhere on their body—the unmistakable mark of the Dark Fate, the most feared and enigmatic group to walk the continent.

And before them stood Elarya, Queen of the Runewood.

No longer adorned in silks and ceremonial robes, she now wore her battle regalia—sleek and radiant armor forged from Runesteel, a sacred alloy born deep within the hidden mines of Runewood. Her armor shimmered with emerald tones and ancient rune-etchings that pulsed with power.

Six ethereal, silk-like wings floated behind her, glowing faintly. These weren’t mere decoration—they nullified gravity around her, allowing her to float with deadly grace.

In her hand, she wielded a legendary weapon crafted solely for her lineage.

*

Weapon: Aurelthir

*Meaning "Golden-Thorn" in the old elvish tongue, this sacred spear measured nearly as long as her full height. Its golden shaft was wrapped in glowing rune-layers that enhanced its user’s speed, power, and elemental control. Only one of true royal blood could even lift it.

But none of that compared to the awe that came from seeing her Divine Frame:

*

Name: Elarya

Level: 73

Title: Verdant Sovereign of Runewood

Class: Verdant Impaler (Ascended)

*

And despite being outnumbered, she stood tall, undaunted.

She wasn’t just fighting for a throne or a forest.

She was fighting for everything her brother once believed in—before he chose darkness.

A level of 73—this was no ordinary feat. In fact, only those seated upon the Imperial Thrones of the world ever came close to such a height. For most mortals, Level 69 was an insurmountable wall, the fabled bottleneck where thousands faltered.

To break past it meant more than strength—it demanded sacrifice. Years, if not centuries, of building the Four Pillars of Ascendance: physical resilience, magical mastery, spiritual depth, and elemental harmony. Only after tempering every corner of one’s being—flesh, mana, soul, and nature—could one dream of touching Level 70.

And yet, even that wasn’t the final key.

To truly ascend, one must also taste death. Not metaphorically, but literally. The body must collapse, the spirit must flicker, and in that final breath, the soul must cling on—reviving itself with sheer will. Only through such rebirth could the equilibrium be achieved, and the bottleneck shattered.

Queen Elarya had done it.

And not just once.

She had broken past the threshold centuries ago, reaching Level 70 through agony, trial, and awakening. And in the 300 years since, she had grown even stronger—now standing tall at Level 73.

But it wasn’t her mana or mystique that earned her the crown.

Elarya had become queen not because of ancient bloodlines or mystical fate, but because of something far simpler—yet far rarer.

Talent.

Raw, unmatched, and terrifying talent in the art of the spear.

She wasn’t a figurehead to be guarded.

She was the storm to be feared.

And now, standing before the six enemies of Runewood—though only five were visible—Queen Elarya lifted her long spear, Aurelthir, with a single hand. The weapon, forged from pure Runesteel, radiated weight and power. Yet it moved like a feather in her grip.

Her eyes scanned the gathered members of the Dark Fate.

She saw fear there—yes—but also... something else.

Hope.

A flicker of confidence.

That disturbed her.

She should have been overwhelming. A level gap between 69 and 70 wasn’t small—it was a chasm. A divide so vast it was often called the "Mortal Gate." No amount of numbers could describe the power shift that occurred once one stepped beyond it.

So why were they still smiling?

Her instincts screamed.

Something was wrong.

There were five before her now, but... the tracks she had seen earlier, the signs in the soil, the mana fluctuations—six.

There had been six intruders.

Her gaze slowly turned.

And then she saw it—far in the distance, barely visible beyond the rocky range. A range of volcanic peaks, one of which glowed with crimson light and constant eruption. The Flaming Mountain.

Her heart skipped.

That mountain wasn’t just another natural hazard.

It was the sealed prison of Vulkris—the legendary beast of flaming destruction. A creature so powerful, it had taken a coalition of kings and archmages to put it to sleep over 500 years ago.

And now, there was movement there.

With a burst of mana, Elarya activated her Observation skill, tuning her senses to maximum precision.

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On the wing.

High above the lava-drenched ridges, riding atop a crimson wyvern, was the sixth member.

Not a towering warrior. Not a terrifying brute.

A child.

*

Name: Eyistha

Level: 61

Title: Fang Enchantress

Class: Whispering Tamer

*

A small girl, no older than twelve, rode the massive beast with terrifying grace. Her silver pigtails fluttered in the sulfur-choked wind. Fireballs and molten debris rained from the volcanic skies, but she weaved through them effortlessly—as if dancing through a battlefield of gods.

But it wasn’t her agility that struck dread into Elarya’s heart.

It was the book with her.

Clutched in the girl’s hands was a black-bound tome etched with glowing red sigils. Old. Forbidden. And unmistakable.

An Unsealing Spell!

Elarya’s pupils constricted.

They weren’t here to fight her.

They were here to distract her.

To buy time.

To unleash Vulkris.

And that, she realized with a slow breath, would be the true battle.

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