Deserter frowned at the glowing crystal, the light fading from his palm. "A Pit Lady."

  Overon exhaled. "Hell."

  The girl still clung to Deserter’s arm, her grip unrelenting, as if he might vanish if she let go. Her wide, dirt-smudged face beamed with something between awe and determination. Deserter wasn’t sure which one unsettled him more.

  "So? What does it mean?" Overon pressed, arms crossed.

  Deserter ran a hand through his hair. "It means she's a pureblood demon, rare as they come. But—"

  "But?" Overon arched a brow.

  Deserter looked down at the girl. "She doesn’t just have demon blood. She has a title."

  The air grew heavy. Even Overon, usually dismissive of titles and nobility, stiffened at the implication.

  Deserter hesitated before speaking. "She’s the Last Princess of the Fallen Demon Land, Necrosnium."

  Silence.

  Then—

  "Wait, what?" The girl tilted her head, blinking up at him. "I’m what?"

  Deserter sighed. Of course, she didn’t know. Given the state they had found her in, it made sense. But that title… it wasn’t something that could be ignored. The land of Necrosnium had fallen ages ago, a graveyard of demonkind’s past. If she truly bore that title, then she wasn’t just some lost child—she was the remnant of something ancient, something that had no right to still exist in this world.

  "That explains why she latched onto you," Overon muttered. "Pit Lords and Ladies follow strong bloodlines, right? And you—"

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Was once one of them," Deserter finished.

  The girl, however, seemed far less impressed by the revelation and far more concerned with something else entirely.

  "Does that mean you’ll let me stay with you?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining.

  Deserter exhaled, rubbing his temple. "We couldn’t get rid of you even if we tried."

  She took that as a victory, nodding as if the matter was settled. Overon, meanwhile, scowled, watching the girl cling to Deserter like an overzealous barnacle.

  "Oh great, she’s going to be stuck to you like this the whole time, isn’t she?" Overon muttered under his breath.

  Deserter shrugged. "Jealous?"

  Overon scoffed. "Of her? Clinging to you? Like a lost puppy? Please."

  The girl smiled smugly, clinging even tighter.

  Their travels continued with her in tow, the once-empty road now filled with chatter—mostly hers. Deserter tolerated it, Overon suffered it, and the girl flourished in it.

  After a day of travel, however, their pace slowed. They were off schedule. Instead of reaching the city, they stumbled upon a small town just before nightfall, forced to stop due to an unexpected inconvenience.

  Their horse had died.

  Or rather, their horse had perished from sheer shock.

  The culprit? An ogre.

  A massive, hulking figure loomed over them, blocking the road. The girl shrieked, clinging tighter to Deserter’s arm, her bravado instantly replaced by terror.

  Overon groaned. "Oh come on."

  Deserter tensed, hand instinctively going for his weapon. Ogres weren’t uncommon, but they were rarely friendly. This one, however, didn’t attack. Instead, it gave them a sheepish, almost apologetic look.

  "Ah, sorry ‘bout that," the ogre rumbled. "Didn’t mean to scare the beast."

  Deserter eyed him warily. The girl buried her face into his sleeve, trembling.

  "You… don’t want to eat us?" Overon asked skeptically.

  The ogre chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Nah. Ain’t one of those types. Just live with my family in the hills. Saw you folk passin’ through, figured I’d say hello. Didn’t expect your horse to—uh—react like that."

  Deserter glanced at the poor, lifeless horse. "We’re on foot now, I guess."

  "Oh!" The ogre brightened. "We got a little village just up the way. My folks’d be happy to help you out, get you some supplies and maybe another mount."

  The girl peeked out from behind Deserter, still wary. "You… have a village?"

  "Aye," the ogre said proudly. "A whole family of us. We don’t bother no one. Just live quiet-like."

  Deserter exchanged glances with Overon. They didn’t have much choice.

  "Alright," Deserter said finally. "Lead the way."

  The girl made a small whimper of protest, but with no alternative, she clung to Deserter’s side as they followed the surprisingly polite ogre toward his village, their journey taking yet another unexpected turn.