The Night that (11): The invasions took place.

A lot of stuff happened. That doesn't excuse the damn month-long hiatus, but it wasn't just me running away. I genuinely didn’t have time to write, and for that, I’m sorry.

I’ll leave an explanation at the end of the chapter, in case anyone’s curious.

If you’d like to support me or read 3 to 7 chapters ahead, that’s possible on my (P)(A)(T).If not, thank you for reading!

Once again, sorry for the unintentional hiatus.

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori

[...]---[...]

An innocent tone. An echo of something pure, something that could only come from a child. That was how the voice sounded—childlike. There was no other word to describe what I had just heard.

Two words, spoken like a child just beginning to learn how to talk. Two words, as if mimicking their parents, trying to sound more grown-up without understanding the meaning behind them...

Just two words...

"Evil..." I murmured, realizing what it was.

I kept my eyes shut, my voice barely escaping my lips. Just in that brief moment, I could perceive the true nature of that being, that thing, that fetus...

Innocent, in a way only a newborn could be... Innocently evil, inherently evil in its existence. It was paradoxical. A mistake. It shouldn't exist.

I wouldn't allow it...

"You could've warned us it would be this horrible." Isis approached the corner of the room where I stood.

I was leaning against the wall, standing. It had been about twenty minutes since Beldin finished throwing up the rotten blood. I wasted no time moving on to the next members of Team Pebble. Every one of them hated the experience, but they did it anyway.

Beldin was still grumbling under his breath, saying it was the worst taste he'd ever had, his words slipping out between sips of an extremely strong beer.

Maribel and Ahinadab had worse reactions than him. Both vomited more rotten blood than the dwarf, as if they were more "infected" with the Brain Root, having a higher "level" of the debuff. That, or maybe the dwarf's high body temperature helped slow the parasite’s spread.

Both possibilities were viable, but the first seemed more likely.

The half-beastkin raccoon girl had vanished, practically flying into the kitchen the moment she stopped vomiting, only to return seconds later with half a lemon in her hand while sucking on the other half.

The leader of Team Pebble went in the opposite direction—to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, his breath reeking of toothpaste as he chewed on some kind of herb I didn’t recognize. It smelled nice. Maribel accepted when he offered her some.

Isis was the second least affected by the vomiting, aside from the dwarf. She also recovered the fastest, simply rinsing her mouth with strawberry juice before spitting it out and biting into what seemed to be sour gum—judging by the face she made. The gum’s scent didn't give anything away.

"I'm pretty sure I said I had no idea what would happen," I pointed out.

"Uhm~" She hummed, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward slightly while staring at me. "You had a pretty scary look back there, you know?..."

"I imagine so." I didn’t bother denying it. Ozma had already confirmed that what she said was true. My emotions had been a little turbulent since I arrived in this city.

Since I returned to Terraria, actually.

"How bad is whatever you figured out?" she asked. I noticed the others listening in, now recovered from everything that had just happened.

"Who said I figured anything out?"

"So you're telling me you just randomly pull off murderous expressions for no reason? That's kinda weird. Pretty odd..."

"By any chance, is your last name 'Hypocrite'?" I asked.

"Nop~ I don't have a last name. And you? Is your last name 'Weird'? Or is it 'Strange'?" She tilted her head slightly to the side, wearing an expression of obviously fake confusion. "It must be 'Strange,' right?"

"I'm starting to feel envious..."

"Of what? My superior intellect and wisdom?"

"No. Of my past self from this morning. He didn’t know you. Those were good times."

"Wow! That was really rude."

"I made sure it was."

"Can you two stop flirting?!" Isis and I both turned toward the voice that yelled: Maribel.

"You call this flirting, Mari? I think I finally understand why your relationships always end the way they do~" Isis put a hand on her hip, huffing after her response.

...This felt strangely familiar.

The messages in (CHAT) from Kazuma saying, "See? She agrees with me!" reminded me why. Well, both of them were equally wrong, anyway.

Maribel’s right eyelid twitched at Isis' response, but before she could do anything aggressive—given how her fingers trembled as they reached for one of her daggers on her belt—Ahinadab took charge of the conversation, stepping forward and placing a hand on Maribel’s shoulder.

"I won't get into the details of whether or not what you two are doing is flirting—"

"Why do they think that?" Isis asked me, stepping closer to my side.

"No idea." I shrugged.

Ahinadab ignored us both and continued, "—or about Maribel’s failed relationships. What I need to know is: are we cured of the ink parasite?"

"Brain Root. That’s its name," I informed, though it didn’t really matter much. "But for all intents and purposes? Yes. Just don’t touch the ink again or come into contact with another infected person, preferably."

The secondary mission to cure them was complete, even if I couldn’t claim the rewards.

"In what sense? Skin contact? Or just touching something an infected person touched?" Maribel had calmed down and asked, her tone more clinical.

Since she was the group's 'rogue,' I assumed her questions came from her experience with poisons or something similar.

"Touching something an infected person touched shouldn’t be dangerous. Nor is skin contact—just avoid touching the mark directly." I hummed internally, organizing my thoughts. "As long as you don’t ingest anything that an infected person has put in their mouth or engage in sexual relations with someone infected, you should be fine."

The information that the 'parasite' was also sexually transmissible didn’t seem pleasant for any of the four in the room, judging by the disgusted looks they threw at each other.

"Well, anyway, I’m off." I pushed off the wall and started walking toward the door, waving at them with my right hand. "I've got something I need to kill—yesterday. If I head back to Shahrabad, I might stop by to say hi. Take care, and stay out of the rain if you're leaving the desert."

I barely took three steps before Isis, who had been standing beside me, moved in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

"How can we help?" I looked down. She stared right back at me. The atmosphere grew tense. Even Beldin had stopped drinking.

"We always pay our debts." Beldin said from his chair, letting out a burp and setting his mug on the table. "Gold for gold, blood for blood. You helped us, so we’ll help you back. You said you need to kill something—what is it?"

That was a good motto.

Before I could respond, Ozma spoke. The mental microphone icon lit up in the corner of my vision as his words echoed in my mind.

("Don't be too quick to refuse them. They might be useful.")

("In what way?") I asked back. ("I’m about to jump into the anthill to kill the owner of that voice. They’d just be four dead weights if they came along.")

("In that sense, yes. But, Devas, what if before it dies—whatever it was that spoke those words—or the Antlion Queen, activates the 'parasite' in everyone in the city? Curing them first would be better. Are you planning to use the Shadowflame?")

("No. I can burn the 'parasite' and its traces, but that would leave scars. I'll use the powder instead—probably mix it into the city's water supply or something.") I explained briefly.

I had realized this while observing what the Purification Powder did. The Shadowflame would burn the 'parasite' just as quickly, if not faster, but even with my refined control, it wasn’t something made to 'normalize' everything the way the powder was.

The Purification Powder expelled and purified the 'parasite' from the body without harming the host’s body itself. The flame would only burn the 'parasite,' and the hole left behind wherever it had been would still remain. And since it was in the brain, I didn’t think it would be pretty.

("What if one of them activated the 'parasite' when they realized multiple people infected with the Brain Root were being cured?") I retorted after a moment. I had already considered the possibility Ozma was mentioning. ("It’s a gamble. I’d rather kill that thing quickly and heal everyone afterward than take the risk and leave it alive even a second longer…")

I widened my eyes slightly, even before Ozma answered, realizing where he was going with this.

("That’s where they come in.") Ozma began explaining slowly. ("These four know Shahrabad much better than you do. They can move while you’re in the anthill, taking the Purification Powder with them.")

After a few moments, he added: ("I can go with them too. It shouldn’t be too hard to modify a Nightmare to look somewhat humanoid—a cloak and a mask, and I could just pass as a suspicious person, not a monster.")

("You said possessing a Nightmare was awful.") I pointed out.

("It’s nothing compared to what I went through while I was alive.") I could see him shrugging in the spiritual camera. ("It might be disgusting to transfer my mind into a Nightmare’s body, but this is more important.")

He had a good point. Isis chose that moment to poke the tip of my nose with her finger and wave a hand in front of my face.

"Hey! Anybody home?! Hello?!" I grabbed her hand when she tried to poke me again.

"You finally woke up? Are daydreaming and those random murderous expressions of yours equally common?"

"I was thinking." I stated, letting go of her hand without answering her questions. Instead, I asked one of my own: "How well do you guys know the city layout?…"

A few minutes later, we left the house and split into two groups. I went alone to the underground center, where the entrance to the central chain was, while Team Pebble, along with Ozma—occupying the body of a modified Nightmare—headed to the surface.

When they left my field of vision, I ignored the residents and slipped into the nearest alley. The place was a bit dirty, with graffiti, but no trash on the ground, despite being wet. There were no dumpsters either. The stench of metal and soot dominated the air.

"Go out and spread. I want one of you in every shadow, in every house and resident of this city." My voice echoed through the alley, even as a whisper.

The shadows darkened until they became absolute blackness. From them, an uncountable number of eyes—some with pure white pupils, others with red ones—blinked restlessly and erratically, at times overlapping, at times merging completely.

No one but the stream’s viewers saw the eyes. I was sure of that. Just as no one saw when the shadows began contorting along the walls and spreading in all directions, slithering through the cracks in the filthy, damp ground, crawling through pipes and rooftops, infiltrating houses and buildings through any gap, no matter how small.

Each Nightmare settled into its own shadow—whether on an old wall, the wheel of a motorcycle, or that of a person, be it a man, woman, child, or elder. Each had a shadow. Each shadow, a Nightmare.

Their eyes blinked, watching the people from within the darkness they occupied, before closing in silence, waiting for a new order.

… No one saw them, but they saw everyone.

I resumed moving, walking quickly, always at the edge of others' attention, heading toward the center of the underground city. Meanwhile, I whispered, staring at my right palm:

"Tyrian… I have a mission for you."

Without a moment’s hesitation, a purple eye appeared where I was looking. The same adoration, insanity, and madness as always.

"Oh, my lord and master. How may this humble servant serve you?" The melodious voice echoed from the eye, slightly shrill, filled with enough reverence and loyalty to make me, for a moment, truly feel like a lord.

I moved in a way that kept Tyrian’s eye out of the stream’s camera view. His existence as my Nightmare was still a secret. My voice, like his, also wasn’t picked up by the microphone.

"I want you to kill some people." I gave my order. A couple unconsciously stepped aside as I walked past them. "The leaders of this city. Bring me their heads and those of anyone who knew what the mark would do yet still allowed this abomination to exist."

I moved my right hand, lightly touching the wall of a nearby pub. The shadow there rippled, and a pair of purple-pupiled eyes emerged. I didn’t look back or stop walking, but I could feel Tyrian moving. I could feel every Nightmare moving.

"Let the flame judge them. Do not kill the innocent." My whisper echoed. No one but the shadows heard it.

A crazed whisper, laden with delirious happiness, echoed back, meant only for my ears.

"Your word is law, my beloved lord and master. This servant will not disappoint you…"

Even though Tyrian couldn’t wield the Shadowflame, he was as much a part of me as the flame itself. The Faunus Nightmare’s eyes were a window for the Shadowflame to judge the sins of those he gazed upon, just as much as mine were.

As I neared the underground city center, I noticed the increase in population, as well as the number of guards.

The large circular tower in the center stood out, heavily armed guards protecting the structure. It was a reflection of the city’s center above. Even surrounded by bazaars, pubs, and shops, no one dared to approach the tower… I did. No one noticed me.

The tower had no doors, so I had no trouble entering. Inside, however, there was what seemed to be a second tower—this one with a massive thick metal door. The surrounding hallways were filled with stationed guards. Those inside watched over the inner tower; those outside, the exterior.

The door was locked with a large keyhole and a matrix of Mystic Symbols. I didn’t need a second glance to know it could only be unlocked with the mana of specific people or an object designed for it.

The matrices also reinforced the door’s durability. The entire wall of the second tower was protected by them.

I didn’t waste time looking for the key or trying to figure out who could open the door. I stepped forward, covering the entire interior with my mana and muffling any sound that could leak out. Then, I burned all the matrices with the Shadowflame before tearing the door apart with my bare hands.

The shrill screech of twisting metal didn’t echo outside, but every guard inside turned toward me in alarm—only for their gazes to go blank as the eight black hands of the Bone Helm gripped their heads.

The hands flickered, appearing on each guard, moving from one to another. The action lasted barely a second. All the guards were dazed, hallucinating.

I ignored them and stepped through the hole I had created in the metal door. At some point, they would recover and realize what had happened, but by then… it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Beyond the door was a small room with a spiral staircase at its center. Descending the stairs, I found myself in darkness. I didn’t bother looking for a light source and simply walked calmly. Only when (CHAT)—those using "Simultaneous Existence"—complained about the darkness did I create a small flame.

After about ten flights of stairs, the walls disappeared, giving way to a vast open space overlooking the desert. It was dark. The island blocked out the sunlight. The sands stretched as far as my eyes could see.

The spiral staircase followed the chain links, offering no protection against falls aside from the shallow ledge—if it could even be called that—formed by the chain itself due to the depth at which the steps had been carved.

A few more flights down, I reached the platform that separated the chain, obstructing the stairway. It was a thick, spiraling metal plate that seemed to have been placed there rather than carved, unlike the steps. It reminded me of the way Team Pebble’s table functioned.

I looked down from the edge, toward where the anthill lay. It was an abyss. Shahrabad was high in the sky, and the hole that was the anthill was deep and wide, appearing even more immense than it already was.

I ignored the messages flashing in my vision—“Wait a second!”, “Don’t you dare, damn it!”, “Here we go!”—and took a step forward, letting gravity take over as my body plummeted toward the anthill.

I enjoyed the fall.

It lasted less than I would have liked…

[…]

POV: Isis.

"Sorry again for how we reacted back there. And… my bad for calling you ugly…" I apologized once more to the shadow-man beside me—Ozma, as he had introduced himself. I couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment.

…Not that we were entirely to blame. Devas was the real culprit! He should’ve warned us that he had some nightmare-born thing lurking in his shadow before pulling it out!

The moment Ozma emerged from Devas’s shadow, we reacted on instinct. He was too much of a monster for our monster-hunting reflexes not to kick in. The aura he gave off was unnerving, like a mass of terrible things molded into something vaguely human.

Beldin was the fastest—the dwarf was always the first to charge into battle. Before anyone else moved, he had already leaped from his chair, over the table, hammer in hand, mere inches from striking Ozma. Ani, Mari, and I reacted almost simultaneously afterward.

My friend swiftly drew two daggers from her waist as she clicked her tongue, pulling a poisoned needle from the Travel Space of her piercing and spitting it at the "monster" while dashing low to the ground, her daggers poised.

Ani crossed all ten fingers—his ten rings, which were also Travel Spaces, glowed before several paper appeared between them. Each one bore a Mystic Symbol or a small formation. He launched them in a precise order, forming a sigil that pulsed in the air before firing bolts of lightning at the shadow. Then, he crossed his fingers again.

It was a combat style he had developed, inspired by the Duchess of Symbols. Completely inferior to the original, of course. Ani himself, despite his pride, admitted this without shame—after all, he didn’t possess the Duchess’s innate magic. But even so, he was far from weak.

As for me, I moved my arms in front of my face and pressed four fingers of each hand against my thumbs, creating a sequence of eight snaps that formed eight transparent bubbles. I didn’t bother reaching for my bow—my bubbles were faster at close range.

At the same time, I blew the gum in my mouth, forming a green bubble. I filled it with my mana in an unstable way so it would explode on impact, then connected the other eight bubbles to it, creating a small amalgam. I blew again, sending them hurtling toward Ozma.

The central bubble would burst, triggering a chain reaction. It wouldn’t be as powerful as the bombs Beldin and I made, but it would still do some damage… even against a troll. If my attack landed, that is. None of them did.

I didn’t see Devas move—I only registered the result of his movements. His right arm held the head of Beldin’s hammer. The impact made no sound. It simply stopped when metal met flesh.

I knew Beldin’s strength and what he was capable of. Even so, Devas’s arm didn’t even tremble, while the dwarf’s was visibly tense. Beldin’s eyes were wide—he must have assumed Devas was a “fragile mage,” as he liked to call magic users.

Devas must have crouched without me noticing, because his left hand was raised beside his body, gripping Mari’s two daggers—one between his index and middle fingers, the other between his middle and ring fingers.

Mari was still holding onto the hilts, dangling midair with a look of shock. Only then did I notice that her poisoned needle was trapped between Devas’s pinky and ring finger of the same hand.

Then, there was an explosion. My bubble bomb collided with the "air"—the same ‘barrier’ Devas had created earlier while we talked. Only the light from the explosion was visible; its sound didn’t travel beyond the barrier, which quickly shrank and vanished along with the detonation.

Ani’s attack came the closest to being effective… Maybe. I wasn’t so sure. I only reached that conclusion only because of the way Devas stopped it—using the same purple flame that had created the tornado earlier, burning—somehow, in some fucking way—the lightning our leader had summoned, along with the papers.

You know, maybe it was something I had learned before but simply forgotten—monsters weren’t called that just because of their appearance, but because of their power.

Ozma might have looked terrifying and carried an unsettling presence, but the real monster in the room wasn’t him…

…The real monster in the room had glowing orange eyes.

"Don’t worry. Devas did that on purpose—not warning you, I mean. He does things like that sometimes, just for fun." Ozma waved his left hand; his right was occupied holding a peculiar-looking cane. "As for my appearance, I wasn’t offended. I know my current form can be frightening."

His voice was raspy but carried the calm and wisdom I would expect from a grandfather. His mannerisms were also refined. He was tall, nearly two meters, if not more. And yet, he moved with the grace of a noble.

He was dressed in common Shahrabad clothes, courtesy of Ani. The fabric draped over his shadowy figure down to his feet, even serving as makeshift socks. He wore sandals and gloves. The only uncovered part of him was his face, hidden behind a natural deer-like mask made of gray bones, completely obscuring his features except for a space that revealed his honey-brown eyes.

"I told you it was his fault…" I muttered to myself. I was right!

Ani, on my left, opposite Ozma, asked, "Current form? This isn’t your real body?" Our leader was sharp.

The shadow-man fell silent for a moment. His expression was unreadable. With the mask hiding his face and his eyes remaining calm and deep, there was no way to discern his thoughts.

He turned to Ani, and for an instant, his eyes seemed ancient and knowing. Somehow, I could tell he was smiling faintly, even though his mouth was concealed by the deer mask.

Ozma shook his head before asking, "What’s our plan? We can’t just dump the Purification Powder out of nowhere. When people start vomiting blood—even if it’s rotten—it’ll cause panic. Is there a single large water reservoir? If not, we’ll need to find a way to spread the powder across multiple locations simultaneously."

I wasn’t the only one who noticed that he avoided answering Ani’s question. Our leader furrowed his brow, and Mari, to his left, shot a suspicious glance at the shadow-man. Beldin was the only one who seemed oblivious to the conversation, his face scrunched as he stared at his right hand.

He had been like that ever since Devas blocked his attack so effortlessly.

"Each section of the city has dozens of wells and smaller reservoirs. As far as I know, there was a project a long time ago to create a large interconnected reservoir, but it was scrapped before it got off the ground," Ani explained. He knew a lot about history. Actually, he knew a lot about everything.

Whatever Ozma really was didn’t matter right now. I could pester Devas to tell me later. He was fun and not uptight—unlike most people.

"As for the plan—I didn’t come up with anything too elaborate. But I reached the same conclusion as you: panic would break out if part of the population started vomiting that rotten blood."

"And your solution to that was…?" Ozma asked, his tone reminding me of a teacher questioning a student.

"Isis." Ani turned to me. "How long do your hydrophobic bubbles last, exactly? It’s been a while since we used them, so I don’t remember."

I blinked, realizing where he was going with this, and answered instantly. I knew everything about my bubbles without even having to think!

"It depends on the size of the bubble and how much mana I put into it. What size are we talking about?"

"Something the size of a watermelon. Maybe a melon if that’s too big." Ani glanced around. His eyes lingered for a moment to my right, where Ozma stood, before sweeping over the crowd.

"Two hours. Maybe three if I use more mana than usual." I hummed, putting my hands behind my head. It was strange, but I was more relaxed than I expected to be in a situation like this.

"Perfect. More than enough time if we coordinate well. We can put the powder inside the bubbles and detonate them remotely, all at the same time… The patrols will be an issue…" Ani muttered, not caring that people around us might hear. My ‘super-master-bubble’ surrounded us, muffling the sound.

"And the number of bubbles, Miss Isis? Do you think you can create enough to cover all the necessary points?" Ozma asked without turning around, walking ahead with his cane.

"Uhm…" It was weird being called Miss… I thought for a moment before answering, "Depends on how many bubbles we’re placing in each location. If it’s just two or three, it shouldn’t be a problem."

It would drain me, but not to the point of mana exhaustion. Those were awful—everything became dull and withered. I was already considering the ‘remote detonation’ of the bubbles, which required even more mana. Without that, I could probably create nearly ten bubbles per location without feeling any fatigue.

My innate magic was efficient, not to mention highly useful and versatile.

"Perfect. A good plan." Ozma praised.

"And the underground city?" Mari asked. "The surface wells aren’t connected to the ones down there."

"Some are," Ani corrected. "But yes, you’re right. We’ll have to go down there afterward. That will cost us even more time…"

"I can reach out to some contacts," Mari suggested.

"And they won’t question why you’re asking them to dump some totally-not-suspicious powder into the water reservoirs?" I crossed my arms and tilted my head. "Not to mention the patrols and security."

Our group was good at avoiding the guards. Ani had contacts inside the patrol—friends who had taken a different path than ours. Mari was excellent at sneaking around, especially if I helped by muffling sounds. But I doubted her contacts could pull off the same thing.

"I know where to find people who just do the job and don’t ask questions." Mari grinned. She’d say it was a mysterious smile; I’d say it was a smug one.

My friend loved boasting about having connections all over the underground city, while Ani was the ‘king’ of the surface.

"That won’t be necessary." Ozma interrupted in his calm voice. "Devas and I have already discussed how to spread the Purification Powder in the underground city."

I blinked. They had already talked about this?... When? How?

…Ozma had stepped out of Devas’s shadow. Could they communicate mentally? Some kind of psychic link? Probably. Still, I didn’t ask. Now wasn’t the time.

"May I ask how?" Ani inquired.

"Of course. It’s no secret. But first, I need some information, since I don’t know Shahrabad." Ozma stopped and tapped his cane lightly on the ground. We halted alongside him, and Mari had to grab Beldin by the collar to keep him from walking ahead absentmindedly.

"What information?" Ani asked again.

Ozma glanced back. We were next to one of the many exhaust vents scattered throughout the city.

"I need the exact locations of all the vents like this one," he said, pointing with his cane.

"The vents only pull air and smoke through the pipes; they don’t expel anything," Ani warned, realizing—just as I did—what plan Devas and Ozma had devised.

"I figured as much. Don’t worry about that. I have my ways." His eyes gleamed with amusement. He turned to me. "Miss Isis, could you provide me with a sheet of paper or cloth so that Mr. Ahinadab can draft a rough map for me?"

Before I could respond, Mari stepped forward.

"That won’t be necessary," she said, tapping the ring on her finger twice. A map appeared in the air, and she handed it to Ozma. "Here, I’ve already marked the vents and other key locations. No need to return it—I have plenty of copies."

"Much appreciated, Miss Maribel." Ozma didn’t ask why Mari had such a map. Ani, on the other hand, turned to her with a glare.

"I told you to stop selling these!"

"I did. These are just the leftover copies." Mari raised her hands in surrender. Our leader pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

After mapping out two routes we would follow—with Ozma surprisingly contributing more than I expected, despite not being a local and claiming not to know the city’s layout—we split into two groups. The first was Ani, Mari, and me, tasked with handling the wells and reservoirs. The second consisted of Beldin and Ozma.

Beldin was terrible at stealth missions, so he went with Ozma, who had his own "mission" with the vents.

"Several parts of our routes overlap. If we cross paths, we’ll update each other," Ozma said, storing the map Mari had given him in a bracelet—an item Devas had given him.

If we had EcoMirrors, that wouldn’t be necessary. We had one, which usually stayed with Ani. That thing had been an absurd investment; with the money spent on it, we could have bought at least ten houses like the one we currently had—and still had money left over.

The shadowed man’s final words before we parted were:

"Prioritize the main population centers. Don’t worry if you can’t get the Purification Powder everywhere—that can be handled later."

He didn’t explain how it would be handled. He just walked off with quick steps, followed by Beldin, who had to hurry to keep up due to his shorter legs.

The first place we visited was the city center. It didn’t take much effort to place a few bubbles on the main bridge, hidden in spots where they wouldn’t be noticed. It wasn’t exactly a place where people drank water, but it was busy enough that when the bubbles burst, they’d splash liquid everywhere, soaking anyone nearby.

The second location was a reservoir. We used a recurring strategy: Ani drew a guard’s attention, pretending to be a lost noble. He often played the role of a spoiled heir—and enjoyed it.

While he distracted the guards, who were too confused and worried about offending someone potentially important, Mari and I sneaked inside. Mari’s cloak had the ability to reflect light and blend with the surroundings, and she used it to cover both of us, while my ‘super-master-bubble’ muffled our sound.

We found that relic in a desert tomb and had considered selling it, but Mari got too attached to the piece, so we kept it. She named it the Sand Cloak.

After placing three bubbles in the reservoir—made with gum so they’d stick to the water’s surface instead of floating up—we left quickly.

Ani’s act only worked for so long. Normally, I’d help by pretending to be his maid or sister; on rare occasions, his girlfriend or wife. But he was terrible at that. Any romantic display, even a simple kiss to keep up the façade, utterly disgusted him.

The following locations followed the same pattern: distract the guards, sneak in, plant the bubbles filled with Purification Powder in the water, and get out before anyone got suspicious.

The biggest problem was the security matrices in the reservoirs. Finding their blind spots was complicated and time-consuming; destroying them without triggering alarms was even more so, even though Mari was experienced in that.

In places where the matrices prevented us from acting undetected, we had two options: ignore them and move on to the next target or force our way through—either by destroying the matrix or ignoring it entirely and triggering the alarm. However, the matrices in those locations were usually alarm-based, not containment-based.

Since we didn’t want to alert the guards, we chose to move on to the next point. Ozma had said it was fine, and since he was, for all intents and purposes, a "Devas agent," we decided to trust him.

A few minutes later, it was Ani who noticed: the guards were acting strange. Especially the higher-ranking ones stationed in important locations. They looked uneasy, speaking with their superiors through their work EcoMirrors—something only high-ranking guards had—before many of them started heading toward the city's noble district.

"Strange… Very strange…" I muttered. Ani and Mari agreed with me.

This made our job easier, but it also worried us. Something was happening, and for it to require the mobilization of so many guards across the city, it had to be something serious. Devas hadn’t mentioned anything about it, nor had Ozma, for that matter. But I highly doubted the orange-eyed man wasn’t somehow involved.

My theory was confirmed—I’m always right!—minutes later when we met up. Ozma and Beldin seemed to be getting along, chatting as they walked.

“The guards’ strange movement… Do you know why that happened?” Ani wasted no time in asking.

Ozma nodded and replied:

“Traitors to the crown do not go unpunished. Their sins will be judged by fire.” The shadow-man’s eyes took on an insane gleam as he spoke.

He didn’t explain anything further and rushed off, with Beldin right behind him. The dwarf only stopped to check if we were okay and said:

“I asked the crazy orange-eyed guy if the kingdom had sent him. Devas said yes.” Then he followed after Ozma, his steps hurried.

“Just as I thought… Only someone affiliated with the crown would have that kind of authority…” Ani murmured in an audible tone. He shook his head and took the lead again.

“Maybe he can put in a good word for us with the crown. I’d like to meet the princess one day—her hair is pretty.” I hummed, skating alongside Ani. He and Mari were running.

We didn’t stop to retrieve our sand ostriches. They were exhausted. On the way back, the tornado Devas created had forced us to run all the way to Shahrabad without rest. My dear Sugar deserved to rest, so we kept going on foot.

With the guards occupied with whatever was happening in the noble district, our work became much easier. In just over an hour, we covered about two-thirds of the marked locations on the map, but fatigue started to take its toll.

Ani was the most affected. Like any gold-ranked contractor, he kept his body in shape, but among the four of us, he had the least stamina. Beldin, on the other hand, was by far the most enduring. The dwarf could run for days and still have enough breath left to curse us for lagging behind.

Second place went to Mari, with me in third, losing by only a small margin. My bubbles helped, but only up to a point. Mari always said it was because of my "unnecessarily large fat bags."

Jealousy, no matter what she claimed. My breasts were gorgeous, and calling them that was pure spite.

Finally, in last place was Ani. When his steps slowed too much and sweat started accumulating on his forehead—mine and Mari’s too—we decided to take a break at one of the points where our route intersected with Ozma and Beldin’s.

They showed up about three minutes later, as Ani drank water, Mari leaned against a wall with her eyes closed, and I wiped the sweat off my body. I was definitely going to need another bath today…

“I told you guys were weak as hell.” Those were Beldin’s first words as he approached and saw our state. “Couldn’t even last two hours at high speed, huh?”

“One of my steps equals three of yours. So I ran the equivalent of six of your hours.” I stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry. Beldin snorted.

“That makes no damn sense.”

“Don’t care~”

Before Beldin could reply, a shiver ran down my spine.

The air grew heavy out of nowhere. My senses sharpened as if my body had gone into full alert mode. I could hear whispers from somewhere. Colors became more vivid: red redder, blue bluer, black much blacker. The air turned cold, the sun burned hotter.

Everything felt sharp.

I stood up without even realizing it. The sweat I had just wiped away returned, now cold. My back was drenched.

I wasn’t the only one. Ani choked on his water and, even while coughing, stood up and looked around. Mari’s eyes snapped open, wide in alarm. Beldin went rigid as a rock, his mouth slightly open, words stuck in his throat, muscles completely locked.

The least affected—or rather, completely unaffected—was Ozma. The shadow-man looked around, his hands resting on his cane’s handle.

And we four weren’t the only ones caught in this.

Everyone around us was in the same state.

A harpy flying low froze in midair and fell on her butt. Two lamias had their tails coiled around each other, trembling. A mother clutched her child to her chest, frightened, while the baby cried. A man gripped his sword, his knees and arms shaking.

No one, without exception, had escaped it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this upset… Actually, calling this melancholy or sorrow might be more accurate.” Ozma’s voice came, calm. His gaze swept over the frozen crowd before settling on a metal plaque he held… Frozen?

That’s when I noticed: no one was moving.

Even conscious, even as they were, they avoided any movement. Beldin, Ani, Mari, me… I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. The only movement came from the wide eyes of those around us, darting in search of answers.

No one wanted to draw attention.

No one wanted to attract whatever had caused this.

No one wanted to die.

Ozma’s voice came again.

“The last time he got this emotional… an immortal died. I wonder what happened?…” His tone was curious. He didn’t take his eyes off the metal plaque.

That… That was just someone being emotional?!

… Had killed an immortal?

“Who?…” I managed to squeeze the word past my lips. “Who is ‘He’?…”

I knew who. Instinctively, I knew. But I wanted confirmation.

Ozma turned to face me, breaking his gaze away from the metal plaque. His eyes lingered on me briefly before his neck tilted back as he looked up.

Instinctively, my gaze followed his.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my friends do the same.

A breath escaped my lips as I lifted my head.

It was daytime. A shadow covered the sun.

It was dark. Black clouds.

A drop of rain landed on my cheek.

Ozma’s response came, distant.

“Devas.”

[...]---[...]

Now, about the hiatus...

The main issue was a job change. New schedule, new projects, getting used to everything. I barely had any time for the first three weeks. I’ve finished almost everything I needed to do, so I finally have a lot more free time.

I went from getting whipped three times before my shift to just two. But the pay’s good, so no complaints.

The second reason was the dog situation. Long (short) story: my stepdad threw a fit at the woman who sold us the dog — said it had vaccines, but it didn’t. That dog died.

As compensation, she gave us another dog. Kinda messed up. But my mom accepted. The plan was to sell the new puppy to recover the money I had spent.

Fun, not-so-fun fact: she promised a female — it was a male. The puppy was 25 days old, had skin issues that needed treatment, and to this day still has no teeth. His name is Toothless.

We didn’t sell the dog, and my mom got attached. So now we have two. And the extra issue I mentioned is that we filed a lawsuit, because HOLY SHIT, what a miserable woman.

With all that said, have a Great Day and enjoy the read!