After battle (1).

Chapter delayed due to forces beyond my control.Literally.Literally a fucking extratropical cyclone.

I don’t know if you guys saw it, but my country got hit by an extratropical cyclone recently. Where I live wasn’t exactly in the area that got completely wrecked. I live in São Paulo. It wasn’t the most affected state, but we still got hit a bit. Close enough for my neighborhood to lose power for two days because utility poles went flying.

2025’s been kind of a shitty year, not gonna lie. A lot of bad stuff happened — both tornadoes that have ever messed up my life happened this year. I don’t even know.

Anyway, sorry for the delay. The next chapter will be out on November 15.

Wishing you all a good night — and happy reading!

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori.

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

POV: Devas Asura

Nature abhors the void.

That phrase was something I’d heard before. It had countless interpretations, depending on who said it and how they thought.

But in this exact moment, I understood its true meaning:

Nature abhorred the void.

Right after the death of 'The Eye,' my attention didn’t shift to the stream warnings, nor to the (CHAT), not even to Proto-A, who was flying in the distance, or the kingdom even farther beyond.

No — my attention went straight to the void.

I looked away from the pale full moon above and took a step back, pulling my arm away from the two halves of 'The Eye.' I paused for a moment to observe the corpse, then dragged it into the VoidBag.

Even in death, the flesh resisted. I had to focus and force it in before the inventory accepted it.

I tossed it into some distant, empty corner. Ironic.

With the corpse gone, the chains Jinn had created slowly began retreating back into my shadow before vanishing completely.

Something similar happened with the arrow Dylan had fired — it crumbled into dust the moment the body it was embedded in disappeared.

Looking away from the dust, I slowly turned my head to the side. I looked at my left arm and shoulder — wounded.

My armor there was shattered. My skin, punctured; my muscles and flesh, torn; my bones, broken.

There was no blood.

Every hole where that abomination’s teeth had struck was pitch black. No color. I couldn’t see beyond them, even in those that went all the way through the flesh.

But I could feel:

To feel my skin being consumed, like paper slowly burning from an ember spat by a bonfire — great.

To feel my muscles and flesh begin to unravel, like a loose thread gently pulled from a cloth — old.

To feel my bones begin to crumble, like the ashes of a cigarette, until none remained but one.

There was no pain. There should’ve been, but there wasn’t. My regeneration wasn’t working.

The only thing I felt was a strange cold — even though it wasn’t.

It was as if my body didn’t know how to interpret the void, and the simplest, closest — and most accurate — response it found was the purest absence of heat.

Thermal death.

What were stars…?

Four stream messages appeared in front of me at that moment:

[The title “The Streamer” blocked external interference from the Debuff: “MoonBite (Pseudo-absolute).”][The title “The Streamer” blocked external interference from the Debuff: “The Outer Foreigner Presence (Pseudo-absolute).”][The title “The Streamer” blocked external interference from the Debuff: “Starless (Pseudo-absolute).”][The title “The Streamer” blocked external interference from the Debuff: “Nightwither (Pseudo-absolute).”]

Only then did I realize two things:

The first was that my title had never actually activated before today — even when I thought it had.

The second was simpler:

I abhorred the void.

“All of this just so, in the end, I still…” I shut my only eye for a moment, frustrated. “What a joke…”

My voice came out calm, strange even to my own ears. Too calm. Unnatural.

But even in this state I had forced myself into, I couldn’t hide the bitterness coating every word that slipped past my lips.

Slowly, I brought my left hand to my face and lifted the Bone Helm. I touched the hole where my left eye had once been. My arm trembled — the void-holes on it were spreading, slowly but steadily.

It was void. Nothing. Where my left eye should be. I could feel that the same thing happening to my arm and shoulder was happening there too. It would consume everything if left unchecked.

The void consumed everything into nothing.

I pulled my fingers away and let the Bone Helm drop back into place as I felt the void trying to consume them too.

I opened my eye slowly and brought my right hand up to my face. I stared at the sword — my sword — Excalibur Asura, for a few moments.

The blade looked more illusionary than ever before. Like it could crack and vanish at any second, as if it were nothing but a fragile mirage.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

I just stared at it, in silence.

It was a familiar sight. Desperation. Survival. Fear.

It was beautiful.

It was human.

I considered it — how I did consider it — simply cutting off my arm. It would’ve been easy, simple… but it wouldn’t work. Not completely.

The void had deep roots. I could feel my cells fragmenting little by little. I could even feel my DNA unraveling, one strand at a time… Rage wasn’t enough to describe what I felt.

Not even my soul was completely safe.

My title was protecting me — I could feel it. The void couldn’t reach the deepest part of my soul. It couldn’t consume my Spiritual Realm.

But my Aura was different.

The outer layer of my soul wasn’t protected.

My Aura was the physical manifestation of my soul. Closer to the body than to the soul itself, in a way. My title protected my soul — not my body.

Cutting off my arm, shoulder, and tearing out the part of my skull around my left eye would do more harm than good. I’d only be weakening myself further.

My only eye drifted toward the cracks along the skin of my right arm. They glowed orange. Vitality leaked out. The air around me burned with my mana.

…The world around me didn’t look or feel like Terraria anymore.

Foreigner.

Mine.

I let my right arm fall to my side as I raised the left one in front of my body, palm facing up.

Around me, the outlines of the Shadow Puppet slowly traced themselves, like a black ink drawing coming to life, before fusing completely into me.

Two halves of a whole.

The moment that happened, I felt my mind return to normal. My thoughts stabilized. And with that, the mother of all headaches hit me.

“Fuck…” I growled.

That serene tone was gone. My mouth twisted, wiping away the faint smile I’d felt on my lips before.

My emotions returned completely. Along with them — the whispers, the screams, the cries.

Echoes of the madness that had struck me at the beginning of the Blood Moon Night. Weaker and distant now, at the edge of my thoughts; shadows in the corners of my vision; hallucinations brushing against my hearing… but still there.

…It was good to be whole again.

The moment I was whole once more, I gave my entire being a command: defend me — arm, shoulder, eye — all of it.

The first move was Shadowflame. I commanded the fire, circling it around the void holes. Right after, I activated my Semblance, using the Shadowflame as an intermediary.

Teeth formed from the flames, biting into the ‘nothing.’

The void consumed. It bit back. My soul devoured. My fangs grew.

I felt the spread of the void slowing — but it still continued.

My second move was my nightmare energy. The void was cold — or at least, that’s how my body interpreted it. I made everything around it just as cold.

The whispers, delusions, and echoes of voices grew louder. I moved the madness through flesh, blood, and bone. The Bone Helm on my face reacted. Instinct. Fear. Survival. An ancient memory.

The blood in the veins of my left arm, shoulder, and around my right eye began to chill. It lost its bright orange hue as frost overtook the skin, turning it ice-blue.

The only warmth came from the Shadowflame.

The cold from the madness slowed the void’s spread even more. A different kind of cold than the one the void sought to reach.

Ice had always been the ally of the deer. The phrase came to mind instinctively.

It wouldn’t harm him. It wouldn’t harm me.

It still moved. Still consumed — but less.

My third move was the Shadow Puppet. I didn’t split my consciousness — I just used the ‘physical’ part. I pulled my shadow from behind my body, turned it opaque, and draped it over my left arm and shoulder.

The Shadow Puppet’s body moved, covering everything: the ice, the madness, the flame, and the void. It absorbed all color, making everything so dark that my arm and shoulder looked almost like a giant 2D shadow.

Even so, I could easily distinguish the void holes. They were a deeper darkness — paradoxically, they stood out.

Where my left eye should be, I did something different. I moved the Shadow Puppet’s right eye. Slowly, I regained my sight. I didn’t need a mirror to know the eye had a black sclera and red pupil — insane.

Two right eyes. The right eye was my domain. I turned my focus back to my arm and shoulder.

My fourth move was the Nightmares. I pulled them into the shadow covering my arm. I tore out the left eye from all of them. Then I spoke:

“Stare into the abyss.” A command for my Nightmares.

“Don’t you dare blink.” A mockery aimed at the void.

The void was an abyss. And when you stare into the abyss, you must be careful when it stares back. Don’t blink. Don’t look away.

My madness had no eyelids.

Eye for eyes — dozens — appeared in the shadow covering my left arm and shoulder. All stared into the void holes. No tremble. No blink.

Inside the Shadow Puppet’s right eye, smaller ones emerged. They floated, like dozens of tiny balloons trapped inside a larger one. Clearly visible within my pupil.

Existence only exists when observed.

I looked into the nothing — and then, something existed. If it existed, it wasn’t nothing.

The spread of the void stopped. It still existed, but no longer consumed. It stagnated. Neither advanced nor retreated.

Something in me abhorred that even more.

My fifth and final move came in the form of dozens of symbols, marks, and red veins. My humanity failed to understand the void — but it understood stagnation all too well. And it despised it.

...And all that halts humanity’s progress must be purged.

My right eye glowed orange, lighting the surroundings as my racial trait manifested around the void holes — almost as if carving humanity’s story into them.

I wasn’t religious… but I agreed with that one quote:

“The stars are humanity’s to inherit… so don’t think you have any right to touch them without my permission.” My words came out like a decree.

And then, the void began to be filled. Grain by grain — but it would be.

Only then did I allow myself to relax.

Not fully — I don’t think I was capable of that, not in that moment. Maybe never. But I dropped my state of total alertness, even if briefly. I pulled back the strange ‘sight’ I had gained when the mark on my forehead awakened.

When I did, I felt almost blind. I stopped perceiving literally everything around me: each blade of grass, dust mote, thread of wind, gravity, space distortions, the flow of time, the world’s movement.

My headache lessened.

The Demon Slayer Mark was still active. Turning it off now would break the fragile balance I maintained within my body — but it was less active, consuming less of my vitality.

With that done, I looked up. Not to the moon or the stars — which had returned to the sky — but to the Proto-A, which had flown above me.

I could sense the four people inside.

I could see through all their right eyes.

Ozma was helping the unconscious Charlotte. Dylan stood by, awaiting orders, blood leaking from the holes in his face. Jinn was slightly out of breath, looking at her phone.

I saw myself, looking up, through her eye: two right eyes — one glowing orange, the other red and insane. All the blood covering me was evaporating. My veins — aside from those in my arm, shoulder, and around the left eye — glowed orange.

My forehead, unlike my palms, was still bleeding slowly, the blood dripping down my nose. It wasn’t affected by heat or cold.

My left arm was pitch black. Covered in shadow. Etched with numerous red symbols, marks, and veins along its entire length. The same went for my left shoulder and the area around my ‘second right eye.’

I saw my mouth open. My voice came from within Jinn’s shadow:

“Jinn, take the Proto-A to the western side of the kingdom. Assist the Terrarian army there. I’ll go east. I’ll leave the decision of what to do when I get there up to you.”

“Ozma, take Charlotte and Dylan to the medbay. Dylan has the potions I gave him, but if you need anything else, I left plenty of healing supplies in storage.”

I focused for a moment. I could see through two more eyes. Two people who shared my surname. Flashes of goblins, fire, screaming. Flesh being cut — and steel clashing with steel. The images entered my mind.

Farther away, I caught only a brief glimpse of an image I was certain was the Dreadnautilus.

“Heal before returning to the fight, Dylan. I’m heading to where Melissa is. I can feel her — she’s alive and healthy. Helena too. She’s even farther west, fighting a monster alongside Hirael.”

The others were in various states. Some worse, some better. Injured, but alive. One affected by the moon. One missing an eye and an arm. Four wounded to varying degrees. One mentally shaken by a vision of the sea.

…There was still much to do tonight.

Neither Jinn nor Ozma said anything about Charlotte, so I didn’t worry. I could still faintly sense everyone’s state. And I knew that aside from the exhaustion of aura, mana, and stamina, she was fine.

Tired and drained, she’d have a killer headache and probably sleep for twenty hours — but she was okay.

I noticed something strange in her soul too. Nothing truly dangerous — it was similar to the change I saw in Ruby’s soul. Probably something related to her Semblance. Did she awaken it?...

I could easily find out if the princess were right in front of me and I used the Shadowflame as an intermediary — or if she were human, it’d be simple. But neither of those were likely. The second was impossible.

After a brief silence, the one who responded was Ozma:

“Devas, that sword… no, it can wait. Will you need my help?”

His voice carried residual shock, surprise, and concern. I saw the halls of the Proto-A as he carried Charlotte to the medbay, levitating Dylan behind him with wind magic.

“Mr. Ozma, I can walk on my own…” — I heard the guide’s voice. Weak, tired, and embarrassed, but he seemed determined not to pass out.

“You’re bleeding on the floor of my ship.” My voice echoed — both from inside Jinn’s shadow and from Ozma’s right eye. “Don’t push yourself. You shot an arrow that injured a god’s eye. Just being awake is an achievement.”

“I can carry the princess with magic and you in my arms, if you prefer.” — Ozma added with a touch of humor.

Dylan wisely stayed quiet. Ozma added shortly after: “Hearing your voice come out of my eye is horrible.”

“This is the easiest way for all of you to hear me. Jinn is far, and Dylan doesn’t have a phone.” I explained. Broadcasting my voice through mana, like I did in Remnant, was too much trouble and unnecessary. “As for your earlier question: no. Stay on the Proto-A and assist them in the west.”

“And what about me? I held that thing back with my chains. No compliment? I’m gonna cry, you know?” — I heard Jinn’s voice right after. Playful, mockingly pouty.

She was worried — I could feel it. Using humor to try and lift my mood.

It worked. I huffed through my nose.

“Please don’t. Dylan’s blood is already messing up my floor. Don’t add your tears to it.” I shook my head, amused. I appreciated the brief distraction. “But yes. It is worth a compliment. That was impressive. I didn’t know you could use your chains like that.”

“You don’t know a lot about me.” She made a point of conjuring an ice mirror and sticking her tongue out at it.

She knew I could see through her right eye… didn’t she?

Well… it was kind of obvious, really. It made sense she’d figure it out instantly — especially after what I’d said to Ozma moments ago…

Before anyone could say or ask anything, I spoke — both to the three conscious people aboard the Proto-A and to the stream’s (CHAT), which I had briefly scanned:

“I’ll answer any questions when the moon no longer hangs in the sky. It’s still night — even if the moon bleeds no more.”

Then I closed my vision — all the eyes within the Proto-A.

I shut my own eyes for a moment. Took a second to rest my sight. It was unsettling, seeing through someone else’s eyes.

Meanwhile, Jinn wasted no time and accelerated the ship toward the western side of the kingdom.

“Well… let’s finish this already.” I muttered to myself. I still had plenty to deal with — both the stream alerts were pinging, and so were the warnings inside my body and soul.

Then I took a deep breath, eyes still closed. I reactivated the “sight” I had gained with the awakening of the Demon Slayer Mark. Nothing was hidden.

The world was transparent.

I had seen Alalia do this. She had the world’s permission to pass freely. I had seen 'The Eye' do this. That thing had ignored the laws of reality like they meant nothing.

Two different ways. Two different paths. I was neither. I would copy both into one.

'The Eye' was far more foreign than I was — from a beyond even more distant than my own. More alien than my alien self. But that didn’t matter. I was still an alien, just like him. I wasn’t entirely bound by this world’s rules.

Alalia was a complete extension of the planet. She had total freedom to do as she pleased. Terraria was her terrarium to play in. The world saw me as a guest, but I’d never be allowed to do half of what she could.

But that didn’t matter. I didn’t need permission. I just needed the planet not to actively stop me. I remembered the description of something:

[…]

A Nameless Foreign World:Linked to the Nameless Foreign World, the Mini-Pylon acts as an intermediary, enabling communication between the Nameless Foreign World and other worlds.Warning! The “gravity” and “weight” of a world can affect another, both positively and negatively.

[…]

A necklace appeared around my neck: the Mini-Pylon.

I felt my left arm pulse — the body of the Shadow Puppet easing the connection between reality and illusion, Terraria and my Spiritual Realm

The Mini-Pylon on my neck resonated with its counterpart inside my Spiritual Realm.

I felt the Nameless Foreign World attempt to connect with Terraria. No response. The world beneath my feet slept deeply, sealed. I shifted the target: an extension of the planet. I felt a connection form.

“Don’t get in my way, Alalia,” I told the world.

“Never, my hero,” the world replied.

And so, I took a step forward.

I let go of the control over my energies for a moment.

The entire area around me was infected by my presence. I felt the world’s mana being rewritten as an orange mist spread outward, and the air filled with deranged, seemingly mad murmurs.

They weren’t. I knew they weren’t. I just couldn’t understand them — not yet.

I focused. I looked through someone else’s right eye: Isis — and she wasn’t doing well. I could see everything around her — the battle, the death, the goblins, the Terrarians. I could see it all as if I were right there.

So, if I could see everything as if I were there…

I pointed Excalibur Asura forward, toward where Dylan’s sister was. I used the sword as an anchor. The world around me was no longer Terraria. It was foreign. Nameless. Mine.

...Then I was there.

For now… Distance wasn’t important.

When my foot touched the ground again, I was standing next to Melissa, who was helping Isis stay on her feet. We stood atop what looked like a large bridge, suspended by enormous chains and constructed with mana.

Ingenious. The chains looked like they had pierced through the kingdom’s wall too. I’d figure out how the hell they pulled that off later — could come in handy.

All around us, Beldin, Ahinadab, and Maribel were tearing goblins apart with raw fury. Darnell stood guard, dual pistols in hand. Everyone was drenched in blood.

But Beldin stood out — the man was more blood than dwarf at that point.

Dylan’s sister, like the others, was soaked in blood — both goblin and her own — despite showing no visible wounds. Isis, on the other hand, didn’t look okay. She was unharmed, with her only injury being on the left side of her face...

How did the moon affect her this badly, even with Alalia’s barrier above them?

“What happened?” I asked aloud.

Everything — and everyone — froze.

[…]

POV: Melissa Oakwood

I had no idea how long this miserable night had lasted.

Between everything that happened and the fighting, my sense of time had been completely warped. It could’ve been ten minutes or ten hours — I honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

My only real “clock” that night had been the major events.

The first was when the moon bled — with it came the monsters and 'The Eye'. Alalia erected the barrier moments later. That was the beginning.

The second was the creation of… I was sure Devas was to blame for that bullshit — a fucking Sun.

A Sun!

It had to be him. Everything about that Sun reeked of him. The Sun itself reminded me of him.

“I’m just a simple contractor,” I remembered him saying when we met. Simple contractor, my ass!

That was the middle. Or close to it. After that, everything got confusing. Even more confusing. My mind wasn’t right — I knew that. I felt more irritable, confused, angry. The fear was still there, but I don’t think there was a single person in the kingdom who wasn’t afraid.

My emotions were tangled. And that was only making things worse...

Between Charlotte’s speech, the start of the battle, the creation of that storm that reminded me of that damned deer, and the biggest explosion I’d ever witnessed in my life, everything had blurred together.

The battle felt endless. Green bodies, gray metal, red blood, fire the color of that man’s eyes.

I was on the frontlines, with Darnell watching my back. The dwarf — Beldin, if I remembered correctly — was right beside me. He was strong. Unnaturally strong.

I couldn’t tell what on him was blood, skin, hair, or metal. Everything was red. And he seemed to be enjoying himself.

Farther back, near Darnell, the rest of Beldin’s companions were supporting us.

The raccoon rogue was someone I definitely never wanted to cross. Too many poisons, hidden weapons, smoke bombs, fragmentation bombs.

Maribel probably hadn’t killed many goblins directly, but indirectly? I don’t think anyone on that battlefield deserved more credit than she did.

Ahinadab… if he bore any resemblance to my mother, I’d swear he was from one of her old flings.

The man fought exactly like she did. But instead of drawing Mystic Symbols, he used paper talismans, launching them into the air. If my mother played piano, the way his fingers moved reminded me of a string instrument.

He was the one who carved us a path forward. Lightning, fire, ice, wind. His battle strategy was complex and, frankly, chaotic. But it worked — and he had probably killed the most goblins out of everyone.

Then there was Isis — the reason my job wasn’t three times harder than it already was, if not worse.

I healed. I’d saved that dwarf’s life more times than I could count. Neutralized poisons, closed wounds, pulled metal out of flesh. But while I kept them alive after the hit, Isis stopped the hit from ever landing.

Her bubbles were insanely useful. And she had ridiculous precision.

A casually made bubble would deflect a sword about to hit Beldin in the back. Another would stop an arrow from hitting me in the chest. Another would explode and push away a blast that would’ve struck Darnell, Ahinadab, and Maribel.

She never stopped moving, sliding across the battlefield with bubbles at her feet. At some point, she just ditched the bow and started launching bubbles with both hands.

She was a nightmare for goblin mages. There were a lot of them. Most could fly — some could even teleport. No matter how many we killed, more always showed up.

Isis had blocked more fireballs than I could count.

…And then everything went to hell in a matter of seconds.

One of those floating eyes flew straight toward Isis. It wasn’t the first time. She tried to trap it with one of her bubbles — like she’d done before. And it looked like it worked.

The creature floated calmly, caught inside the pink bubble, less than a meter from her.

Then something abnormal happened: before any archer or ally could destroy the eye, it melted.

We’d seen these eyes do some disgusting things before. Watching eyes fuse into zombies to form a pulsating mass of flesh was easily in my top three worst things I’ve ever seen — and I’m a nurse.

But the way that thing simply melted into blood inside the bubble where it was trapped seemed to alert Ísis. She immediately created her “master bubble” around herself and the eye.

I couldn’t see what happened inside—it had turned opaque.

But when it burst, I saw what had happened: Ísis’s face was mangled. Her left eye had tripled or even quadrupled in size, tearing through flesh and cracking bone as it tried to burst from her skull.

The skin was ripped open, her nose shattered, part of her skull exposed, her mouth twisted downward.

The eye that had been trapped inside the bubble was nowhere to be seen.

The scream that came from Ísis was guttural.

I must’ve blinked, because Beldin vanished and reappeared just in time to blow up half a dozen goblins charging toward her. In a second, he was standing in front of her, like a furious red demon.

The rest were incinerated by Ahinadab’s lightning, and those approaching from the other side exploded under Maribel’s nail bombs.

I didn’t hesitate. I ran to her. Some goblins tried to intercept me, but between Darnell’s bullets and Maribel’s needles, I didn’t even have to stop.

I practically threw myself to the ground at her side. Ísis was clutching her eye with her left hand, trying to keep it in. With the right, she was still firing bubbles, knocking other flying eyes out of the air.

I yanked a potion Devas had given us from my Travel Space and poured it over the wounded side of her face. With my other hand, I threw Purification Powder straight into her left eye.

It worked—briefly. The eye stopped twitching, but it still throbbed, and looked more evil than any eye had a right to be. It glared at me from between her fingers, full of malice.

I pressed my hand over hers and tried to heal her with my mana. I failed.

I didn’t have innate magic. What I had was a mutation: my mana was healing in nature. It closed wounds, treated abnormalities. Alalia said it was similar to hers.

But I didn’t have the near-infinite supply she seemed to wield. And my healing wasn’t efficient. That’s why I studied. I maximized the way my mana worked through knowledge.

While Alalia poured out mana until the wound was gone, I analyzed. Catalogued: fractures, lacerations, contusions, punctures, burns, internal ruptures, corrosion... I knew how to handle all of it in the most efficient way possible.

But not this. Not this thing.

I’d studied the bodies of the creatures Devas had brought us. Even so… I could barely understand what it was.

It wasn’t a disease. It wasn’t a curse. It didn’t affect mana. It didn’t directly affect anything—and yet, it affected everything.

I didn’t know how to undo it. All I knew how to do was slow it down. And that wouldn’t be enough.

I’d have to rip out her eye. Or Ísis would die.

And that alone might kill her. The way the eye had grown had shredded her face and made her lose far too much blood.

If not for her years of experience, the potion, my healing, and the Purification Powder, she’d have passed out long ago.

“Ísis, I’m going to have to take out your—” I was cut off mid-sentence.

A voice echoed. From afar. From above. From nearby. From all directions.

“I will bring an end to this bloodstained night…”“I will bring an end to this nightmare…”

At the same time, Ísis grabbed my wrist. As Devas’s voice continued to declare, she whispered:

“Wait… not yet.” The words came out broken, shaky from her mangled mouth, but her tone was unnaturally steady. “I’m fine. Help the others.”

Then she just… started standing up. Not just her—other mortally wounded Terrarians decided they wanted to live. They pulled themselves up as if strings were lifting them, returned to the fight.

The light shining on the horizon seemed to give them strength, purpose: one last desperate struggle to survive.

Then, the declaration of a name washed the blood from the moonlight.

“Excalibur Asura!”

The eyes in the air were incinerated. The zombies pouring in from the front of the kingdom burned to ash. The crimson moonlight, and the gray clouds with it, vanished in an instant.

The stars returned to the sky.

I grabbed Ísis, helping her to her feet. Her left eye had stopped moving. The malice was gone—it was just an abnormally swollen eye that had ceased trying to kill its owner.

I still couldn’t heal her. Her condition was still critical, but it wouldn’t worsen—her left eye had decided to fly off elsewhere.

The goblins nearby were frozen in shock. The light hadn’t affected them the same way it did the Terrarians; they looked like they’d just seen a monster. Watching the red drain from the night seemed to break something in their resolve.

We’d won. I knew it. It was only a matter of time. Devas had killed that thing. I could feel the absence of its evil gaze.

…And then I wasn’t in Terraria anymore.

The world around me changed. In a single second, the environment became unfamiliar.

When I breathed in, the air felt wrong in my lungs. The mana was toxic, dense. Extremely dense. The temperature felt both infinitely hot and paradoxically freezing cold.

In the corner of my vision, I saw shadows. But when I looked directly at them, they were gone. Whispers and delirious voices swirled at the edge of my hearing.

I wasn’t adapted to survive wherever I had been taken. The world around me didn’t belong to my existence. I didn’t belong to its existence. Something was missing.

And yet, I was fine.

It was as if the very ecosystem of this place was adapting to me, letting me live.

It was, without any doubt, the most unsettling feeling I’ve ever experienced.

“What happened?” I heard a voice to my right.

Just hearing that voice made me feel safe. At the same time, it made me feel like I’d rather throw myself beneath the naked Blood Moon and stare straight at the sky than risk upsetting its owner.

“One of the eyes melted into blood inside one of my bubbles and…” Ísis’s voice came low and slow. “My bubble mirrored the Blood Moon out of nowhere. I couldn’t look away in time…”

I turned to see Devas as she spoke.

Left eye red. Right eye orange. Left arm and shoulder covered in shadows, eyes, symbols, and glowing red veins. Of all the changes, what caught my eye was the sword in his hand.

The source of the earlier light. It was stained, but still shone. It wasn’t from my world. It looked like something impossibly heavy to carry.

It was beautiful. It was grotesque. It was human...

I blinked and looked away quickly when my thoughts started to wander. I knew Devas was human, but the fact that my mind jumped to that word just from seeing the sword?…

…Terrifying.

Devas narrowed his gaze. He was wearing the Bone Helm—I only noticed because his right eye was radiating so much light, like orange fire, that when he squinted, the light dimmed.

He didn’t say a word. Just walked toward us.

No one stopped him.

In fact, no one moved. They didn’t even seem to breathe. The wounded made no sound. The fires had gone out at some point—just… stopped existing.

The only sound was the soft dripping of blood, because even the man’s footsteps made no noise.

Without a word, he reached out with his left hand and gently cupped Ísis’s cheek. I stepped aside.

Slowly, her left eye began to shrink. The wounds were still there—torn skin, broken bones, blood and exposed flesh—but the eye, in just a few seconds, returned to its normal size.

It didn’t hang out—it was held in place by small black hands, centered in what should’ve been her eye socket.

Ísis collapsed forward as it happened, unconscious. Her eyes remained open—glassy, empty.

“Is she…?” It was Maribel who asked, her voice caught between fear and concern.

“No. She’s just asleep. I put her into a hallucination to ease the pain,” Devas explained. The relieved sighs from Ísis’s team were audible.

Then, five more black hands appeared beside him. One held a potion. Another, a box of bandages. One gripped a sword I’d never seen before—twin-bladed and glowing purple. One carried what looked like Purification Powder. The last one was empty.

When the sword lit up, parts of Ísis’s face simply vanished. Then, he applied the potion—along with the Purification Powder—directly into her eye socket.

“Craak!”

Her bones cracked as they grew back into place. Then came the flesh, blood vessels, and muscle. Finally, the skin.

The empty black hand gently closed her eyelid. The last one pressed the bandage over her left eye.

In seconds, Ísis didn’t even look injured anymore.

“How?” The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “That… disease thing—it stopped regeneration and healing.”

“The Void devours all things,” came the answer, with no further explanation.

Before I could say anything else, the black hands lifted Ísis with care and placed her into my arms. Then, he turned toward the battlefield.

“Surrender. This night has bled enough.” His voice echoed—I was certain everyone heard it.

…He wanted to spare them?!

One of the goblins—maybe particularly stupid, or delirious, or brain-damaged, or all of the above—decided to respond:

“We’ll ne—”

Before he could finish, he dropped forward, eyes still open as he hit the ground.

“That wasn’t a question,” the human said, simply.

One by one, the goblins’ shadows twisted, and eyes opened within them. Each shadow stretched upward, swallowing their legs and part of their torsos, growing hands that seized their heads.

One by one, they all collapsed, eyes wide open.

“Are they…?” A similar question—this time from me. The answer was also the same.

Devas turned to me. I felt naked—like he could see through everything I was.

“No. They’re just asleep. I put them into a hallucination.” He looked at the nearest goblin. I followed his gaze.

The creature’s body trembled, muttering incoherent words. Its wax helmet had broken, so I could see its face: its eyes darted behind its eyelids, restless and fast.

I swallowed hard.

“What kind of hallucination…?”

“They brought a night that wouldn’t end to our doorstep. Blood, eyes, and a red moon…” His words sent a chill down my spine.

“So I’ll let them enjoy a long night…”

“Shadows, eyes, and an orange moon.”

Then, he vanished—like a hallucination.

[...]

So, about the chapter: I liked it.

I thought I’d be able to wrap up the after-battle in one go, but I’ll need two chapters because of Melissa’s POV. I wanted to show what happened on their side, since I couldn’t during the actual fight.

Well, Devas is the king of improvisation and picked up a few new tricks while fighting The Eye. Not only that, but he also completed some quests, unlocked a few achievements, and tossed the creature’s body into the VoidBag. I already know what he’s going to do with it.

Have a good night, everyone, and enjoy the read!