Chapter 18: The price of defeat

Words : 1454 Updated : Sep 20th, 2025

Chapter 18 of "Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man" starts the action: Chapter 18 - The price of defeat For three months, Moonlight's daughters bled out in Thornvale's... Find out what happens!

Chapter 18 - The price of defeat For three months, Moonlight's daughters bled out in Thornvale's forests. Three months of plans falling apart, desperate moves, and more deaths each day. Three months watching her warriors die while Elena's forces seemed to grow like shadows at sunset. Elysia, Princess of Moonlight, stood at her tent's opening, watching rain turn their camp into a muddy mess. Her once-shining silver armor now carried the permanent marks of battle and loss. Behind her, maps covered in red X's told the story—failed attacks, ambushes that became slaughters, positions lost and never won back. 'We never had a chance,' she thought with a heavy heart. 'Not against the forest itself.' Their first try to take back land had been careful—daytime advance with scouts, tight formations, and magic to spot traps. Elena simply waited until they reached the thickest part of the forest before bringing down huge sections of the tree canopy onto Moonlight's fighters. Two hundred warriors gone in one afternoon. Two weeks later came the second attack. Elysia had her best water-dancers create paths through underground streams, avoiding the forest floor completely. They came up behind what they thought was Elena's command post, only to find themselves surrounded by poisonous plants grown just for them. Those who survived the toxic pollen came back with permanently damaged lungs, many never able to fight again. Their third and most desperate attempt came just days ago—a night attack using Moonlight's better vision in darkness. Lyra, Elysia's daughter and fierce cavalry leader, led five hundred of their best remaining warriors, sneaking in from three directions at once. They hadn't even reached the trees before walking into the trap. Thornvale had spread crushed glowing mushrooms across their path, turning Moonlight's warriors into bright targets against the night. Archers picked them off easily, like hunters thinning a herd. Four hundred and twenty-three dead in a single night. "Mother." Sorrel's voice pulled Elysia from her dark thoughts. Her once-lively daughter now walked with a bad limp, thanks to a Thornvale spike trap from their first attack. "The messenger from Thornvale is waiting for your answer." Elysia's jaw tightened. "Is the count confirmed?" Sorrel nodded grimly. "Three thousand and forty-seven fallen. Another eight hundred too hurt to ever fight again." She paused. "Mother... we can't keep this up. Moonlight will have no protection if we go on." 'Three thousand daughters of Moonlight,' Elysia thought, pain stabbing through her chest. 'Three thousand who will never come home.' Elena's terms were simple: stop fighting now and Moonlight gives up all southeastern lands—the fertile valleys that had been theirs for sixteen generations. Lands that grew nearly a quarter of their realm's food. "Tell Elena," Elysia said finally, her voice empty. "Tell her I accept her terms." Sorrel's shoulders dropped with mixed relief and shame. "Yes, Mother." "And Sorrel?" Elysia caught her daughter's arm. "Make it clear that if they try to take any more land beyond the southeastern territories, they'll face whatever strength Moonlight has left. This is where it stops." 'Until we're strong enough to take it back,' she added to herself. The journey home took four days of heavy rain and heavier silence. The surviving warriors moved like ghosts, their eyes empty, their spirits broken not just by defeat but by how it happened. Thornvale had played with them—showing just enough of their power to make each defeat hurt more than the last. Elysia rode at the front, sitting straight despite being so tired she could barely stay in the saddle. She felt every warrior's eyes on her back—their silent blame, their unspoken questions about her leadership. On the final hill overlooking Moonlight's capital, Elysia stopped her horse. The city spread below them, its silver towers catching the late afternoon light, its magical lights just starting to glow as evening came. From here, it looked untouched by war—peaceful, rich, unaware of their failure. Lyra guided her horse next to Elysia's. Her face was covered in fresh scars from Maria's blades, one eye now permanently closed. "They'll say we should have fought until the last warrior died," Lyra said quietly. "They weren't there," Elysia replied flatly. "No," Lyra agreed. "They weren't." They rode in silence for several more minutes, watching as the returning army began going down toward the city gates. "Eren will have grown," Lyra said suddenly, her voice softening. "Two years of growth in these past months, right?" For the first time in weeks, Elysia felt something besides despair stir in her chest. Eren—her strange, amazing child, different in ways she couldn't fully understand but tied to ancient prophecy. 'She'll be grown up now,' Elysia thought. The fast growth of elven children—two years of development for each month in their early lives—had been both blessing and curse during this war. With the last month completing two years of growth, Eren would look like a twenty-year-old now, though really still a child in many ways. "And Naia too," Elysia added, thinking of Eren's sister. The connection between the siblings had always been unusually strong. "They'll both have gotten better in their training." The homecoming was quiet. No celebration greeted the returning warriors, only solemn recognition of their sacrifice. Families waited at the gates, desperately looking for loved ones among the smaller ranks. For too many, that search ended in heartbreak. Elysia did her duties automatically—speaking to the Council, giving her report, accepting their poorly hidden disappointment. Politics would come later; blame and consequences were sure to follow. The royal home stood near the heart of the city, its ancient towers reaching toward the sky. Elysia sent away her guards at the entrance, needing these moments alone. As she pushed open the door, her armor feeling heavier than ever, a sound caught her ear—the gentle splash of water being moved by practiced hands. Elysia moved quietly through the halls until she reached the garden courtyard. There, beside the small pond, stood someone she barely recognized. Eren had indeed grown—no longer a child but a young adult, tall and lean with silver hair flowing down a strong back. With hands stretched out, Eren controlled the water with growing skill, creating shapes and forms that danced in the evening light. 'So changed,' Elysia thought, watching the child prophecy said would be different from all others. 'Yet still the same.' Beside Eren sat Naia, offering guidance and occasional corrections to her sibling's technique, their bond clear in every shared gesture and smile. They felt her presence—maybe through the water itself—and turned. The floating water shapes collapsed, splashing back into the pond as their concentration broke. For one terrible moment, Elysia feared rejection, anger, resentment for her long absence. Instead, Eren's face broke into a smile of pure joy. The space between them vanished in an instant as Eren's arms wrapped around Elysia with such force that the princess stumbled backward. "Mother!" Eren cried, the voice deeper than Elysia remembered, yet still carrying the warmth she loved. "You've come back to us!" Naia joined the hug, the three of them holding each other tight as if afraid to let go. "I'm home," Elysia whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I'm home, my children." Later, as evening deepened into night, Elysia sat in her private rooms with Eren. Despite looking fully grown, there remained a childlike wonder in those eyes—the soul of her child still present in the body that had grown so quickly. "The water talks to me, Mother," Eren said excitedly, showing small tricks in a basin. "Naia says I have talent, though different from hers." 'Different in all ways,' Elysia thought, watching Eren's movements. The ancient prophecy spoke of a child unlike any other, one who would bring change to their world. She had noticed Eren's strangeness from birth—subtle differences in form and features that set her child apart, though no one in their world had words to describe exactly how. "You both have gifts that will help Moonlight greatly," Elysia said carefully. "Especially now." Eren's face grew serious, suddenly seeming truly older. "We've lost, haven't we? The southeastern lands..." "For now," Elysia admitted. "But not forever." 'I will rebuild our strength,' Elysia promised silently, watching her child of prophecy. 'I will take back what was stolen. And you, my strange and wonderful child, may be the key to it all.' Outside, rain began to fall once more over Moonlight, washing away the dust of the returning army's path, but not the stain of their defeat. Not yet.

Chapter 18: The price of defeat

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