Enya hit the ground hard, catching herself with her palms just in time to avoid faceplanting. Her thoughts tumbled like loose marbles in her head. Blurred vision—triple—double; every clone merged back into one, painting a picture of the forest once more, now located in a small clearing.
Before she could even process the landing, her hands flew to her mouth, cheeks puffed like a balloon ready to burst.
She staggered forward a step—two at most—before vomiting again.
A second rainbow for the day. Less majestic, more miserable. If forest fairies existed, they’d probably recoil in horror at the glittery mess she left behind.
Still dazed, Enya backed away from the mess she’d created; there was little time to move and find a pond to wash up, as a low, rumbling sound came from behind her.
She froze momentarily before turning, finally seeing what had transpired.
Zerus was on one knee, her form slouched, one arm limp at her side.
Blood.
The cloak around her shoulder was blackened and torn, half-burned away to reveal the damage beneath. What remained of her shoulder was raw and open—flesh charred, the wound still smoldering like the dying embers of a fire. The bone beneath was visible in places, scorched red, the edges glowing faintly.
A growing pool of blood spread beneath her, thick, steady and endless.
“Z-Zerus?” Enya’s voice barely left her throat.
No answer. Just a rough, strained grunt as Zerus clutched at her ruined shoulder with her good hand, hovering above the wound, unsure whether to press down or not. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow bursts. Her fangs—two longer than the rest—were bared as she grit her teeth, trembling.
Doubt filled Enya’s mind.
There was no chance she could put up a fight; her Soul-Energy reserves were in the single digits, and her mana a measly twenty points. Just from the speed that Zerus displayed—her claws to her neck earlier; there was no way she could cast fast enough to beat that speed, even with that injury.
Why…
Enya couldn’t finish the thought. Something gnawed at her.
This should have been a relief, shouldn’t it? Her captor was, wounded, weakened, and bleeding out. The demon who’d whisked her away from the city, from her friends, to some unknown fate under the orders of a mysterious, likely cruel master.
And yet…
She wasn’t happy. Not even close.
She should’ve been cheering internally, overjoyed that Pell and the others were closing in, and that Zerus was down, vulnerable. That the attack—whatever that projectile of fire had been—had landed and done significant damage.
But the only thing Enya felt was a heavy, complicated ache twisting in her chest. She watched Zerus bleed, struggling to endure the pain of a torn shoulder, and all she could think was:
Why do I feel sorry for her?
A kidnapper like this should have been ruthless; they were supposed to be mean and cold. But Zerus wasn't exhibiting these characteristics. Almost the opposite, in fact. From what Enya had learned about how kidnappers acted: Zerus did not feel like one.
Enya approached slowly, each step measured. She kept her distance, mindful of the demon’s claws—even if Zerus was barely upright.
“A-are you… okay?” she asked, voice uncertain.
A low groan rumbled from Zerus’ throat. “Fine,” she growled. “Just a wound. Hurts. But I’ll…” She clenched her teeth mid-sentence, her pupils wide and unfocused as her body trembled. A guttural snarl followed, strained and animalistic, as if the act of staying conscious was a battle in itself.
Enya watched, wide-eyed, as the muscle around the demon’s shoulder began to shift—slow, uneven pulses of flesh twitching back into place. It was regeneration, yes, but not the fast kind. It was slow. Brutal. Painful.
“I…” Enya hesitated, her voice catching. “I think I can help. With the pain, I mean.”
A shimmer of violet light answered her thought. The Grim Pullet materialized in the air, drifting down like a falling feather, pages fluttering open on their own—directly to the first recipe she had ever learned: Gravemoss Poultice.
Soul-Energy infused-moss, bone powder, and a plant or herb of any type. The effects included repairing the undead, healing broken bones or possibly rotten flesh from a zombie. However, it held another effect, one that didn’t require an undead patient: pain numbing.
“I’ll be back,” Enya said quickly. She stood, turned, and took three brisk steps before—
“Stop. You will not escape,” Zerus growled.
The voice wasn’t strained this time. It came from above her—not from the ground, where Zerus had been kneeling, but from behind, towering.
Enya froze, not from the voice, but from her body being caught.
A hand clamped around the back of her neck. Not squeezing, just holding. A very steady, stoic hold. Her throat remained untouched, but five claws hovered barely close enough to tickle her skin. One twitch, and they could slice straight through.
Enya clutched the Grim Pullet to her chest, heart pounding. She drew in a deep breath, then slowly turned around.
Zerus’ grip loosened slightly as the child moved. They came face to face.
The demon’s eyes were bloodshot, unfocused yet sharp, her body trembling from effort. She was barely holding herself together. Her mouth was clenched in pain, but her gaze never wavered.
Enya didn’t flinch.
She met those dark, pained eyes with a fierce stare of her own. Not of defiance—but determination.
“I’m not running away,” she said quietly. “If I did, I know you could hurt me before I can do anything back.”
She clutched her book tighter, fingers pressed into the leather. “You haven't hurt me. I want to help you. That’s all. I can make the pain go away.”
A war unfolded behind Zerus’ eyes. One not spoken. One not visible. Torn between suspicion and survival instinct. Between acting on fear… or believing the girl.
A long silence passed, both woman and child standing; stillness leading silent whispers of communication.
Then, without a word, Zerus lowered her claws. Her hand fell to her side.
She stared at Enya a moment longer, chest rising and falling unsteadily—then slowly slumped back to the ground. Her gaze dropped, burning holes into the forest floor, ants be damned if they crossed her sight.
Enya swallowed hard. “I—I’ll be right back.”
When Zerus didn’t move or reply, she took it as permission. Without another word, Enya turned and jogged deeper into the trees, the soft hum of her steps quietly disappearing.
Leaves, brush, trees, and vines—the forest stretched endlessly, a wild, tangled kingdom ruled by green. Stray leaves brushed her arms. Thorny twigs and creeping undergrowth clawed at her sleeves, tugging like fingers that didn’t want to let go. Still, Enya pressed forward, eyes scanning the undergrowth with growing urgency.
She needed moss. Any kind would do.
Back in the dungeon, she’d been lucky. Gravemoss had stood out like a sore zombie in a skeleton army—easy to spot against cold stone and bone-white tile.
But this wasn’t a dungeon. This was chaos in every shade of green and brown. Nature wasn’t a backdrop here—it was the entire stage. And everything blended together.
Enya flipped open the Grim Pullet with a thought. The pages turned themselves, landing on the familiar ingredient:
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Gravemoss (Bronze)
- Moss that has been infused with Soul-Energy. Moss can be found in moist, shady areas, most commonly spotted around rocks, trees, bogs, moors, and marshland. Gravemoss will continually spread at a slow rate if left unchecked.
She closed the book and let it vanish in a flicker of soul-light.
Her eyes narrowed, scanning again. She could use Absolute Focus to refine and expand her search, but it wouldn’t have made the search any faster. There was just simply too much detail, an army of greenery everywhere, that it may slow her down instead.
Even though she did want to use it—she hesitated—and for good reason too.
Zerus's threat.
If the demon was truly bound by commands, forced commandments by her master, then who knew what might trigger her? Enya still remembered how Zerus had reacted when she tried to glimpse Pell through Truesight. She had reacted quickly, with violence, but luckily, she didn't follow through. Not to mention what happened just now, either.
Absolute Focus didn’t cost mana, and it was technically passive. But Zerus didn’t seemed bothered by that earlier. Could she detects skills or mana usage? Or did using Absolute Focus just give herself away that quickly with the glowing eyes? Enya wasn’t sure, but she certainly didn’t want to take that gamble.
Maybe she'd need to look in a mirror once with her skill on, if she made it out of this situation safely.
Enya continued walking, eyes sharp, and unaided.
Eventually, she came upon a break in the brush—a small clearing, the ground uneven with roots and vine. A fallen log sat near the center, half-decayed and and entangled.
She crouched beside it, brushing her fingers along the bark. As she lifted part of the log, insects scattered in every direction. Her gaze caught on a patch of darker green tucked near the underside.
Moss.
"Gotcha."
She scooped it up gently, cupping it in both hands. She focused, channeling a soft stream of her remaining Soul-Energy through her fingertips. The moss twitched beneath her touch—shivered once, twice—then began to shift.
It wiggled, condensed, and darkened, its color deepening into a rich, violet-laced hue that shimmered faintly in her palms.
Gravemoss.
One ingredient down; the hardest to find and obtain crossed off her list. The remaining two would be easy.
She moved a few steps to the right and grabbed the first green thing that looked vaguely herbal—a scrappy plant with jagged leaves. Size didn’t matter. Rarity didn’t matter. It just had to be a plant.
Two down.
Enya could probably summon a bone—maybe a rib or a femur—if she modified her summon skeleton spell. After all, she could now use it to repair bones—a modification that wasn’t originally intended, all by just shifting the spell patterns around.
Once summoned though; how would she crush it into dust? She didn’t have the strength for that. Not in her current state. Zerus would have to do it.
With the ingredients gathered, Enya turned, ready to head back.
Then she froze.
A rustle, loud and quick, cut through the air from a bush over a dozen meters away.
Her heart stuttered.
Something was moving.
The rustle came again—louder this time. Thicker brush cracking. Something heavy was moving through it, slow but deliberate. Enya didn’t breathe, keeping completely still.
Then it stepped into view.
A hulking beast, low to the ground and wide like a boulder. Its skin shimmered like metal; thick, dull-gray scales wrapped its body in jagged plates. It walked like a lizard, claws dragging against the dirt, but its snout was boar-like, flat and broad, with tusks curling outward like daggers. Its tail, thick and barbed, swayed behind it like a slow-moving mace.
It hadn’t seen her yet. Not fully. Enya tried to crouch lower behind the tree. As she moved however, a single branch snapped under her foot.
The beast stopped. Its head turned. Their eyes met.
For a split second, time froze—then it roared, loud and sharp and terrible, the sound ripping through the trees and scattering birds in every direction. Wings flapped in panic as a whole cloud of them shot up into the sky, their screeches echoing in the canopy.
Enya stood frozen, her body completely still. Her mind was blank.
She couldn't think of what to do. Run? Hide?
Her legs didn’t move; her thoughts jumbled as she frantically tried to think of a plan. Was it going to attack? How would it attack? Could she outrun it?
The beast dropped into a charging stance. Its claws dug into the ground, powerful muscles shifting beneath its plated hide—and then it launched forward, barreling toward her with a ground-shaking sprint.
Enya clutched the Gravemoss and the strange forest plant tightly to her chest, her heart pounding so hard it made her ribs ache.
She didn’t want to use magic. Zerus had made that clear—one wrong move, and she might tear Enya in half.
But that didn’t matter now.
If she didn’t act, she’d die.
Mana bubbled wildly into her palm, her fingers trembling as she tried to force a coherent spell into shape. She began prepping for a full-powered Bone Spear, burning through the small pitiful pool of mana that she had. In her other hand, she began to prep a follow-up spell—her summon spell. If a bone spear wouldn’t do it, then maybe Numbskull could. He was her last summon available; Uglyface and Fred had fallen back in the tournament, while Mr. Bones was still in the dungeon core.
Her mana channeled but rapidly, but the beast was closing in too fast.
Fifteen meters.
Ten.
She wouldn’t have time to refine the bone spear completely.
She grit her teeth, preparing to fire off a sloppy, half-formed spell. It wouldn't be perfect—not the full-powered spear she’d wanted, but a half-powered one; it wasn’t much, but it didn’t have to be. She just needed to do anything.
Enya raised her hand, spell patterns formed with half-assed mana, and as she prepared to launch it—
The world blurred in a slash.
Suddenly, the beast that stared her down, running straight at her, was gone.
No—not gone. Headless.
Its skull bounced once—twice—before rolling a dozen meters away, trailing a river of blood behind it. The body slumped, twitching, then fell still in a growing red pool.
To her left stood Zerus.
Her right arm extended, claws dripping with fresh blood. Her left shoulder remained ruined, muscle still torn and exposed, skin scorched raw. She didn’t look at the beast. She looked only at Enya.
A low growl rumbled from her throat as she approached.
“We move. Now. No more waiting.”
Enya’s breath hitched. The mana in her palm dispersed, the half-formed spell unraveling into the wind—completely wasted.
Zerus advanced quickly, ready to grab her. She wasn’t going to risk another delay. Whoever had attacked—whoever had landed that flaming strike to her shoulder—was catching up. Even with teleportation crystals, they were closing the distance.
She needed to keep moving. Now.
“I—I—wait!” Enya stumbled over her words, heart racing. “I have the final ingredient! I just need to summon a bone—just one! And I need you to crush it into powder. That’s it. Then I can help you… with the pain.”
Zerus halted, blood still dripping from both arms—one hers, the other from the beast. She eyed the girl, face tense, shoulder still trying to pull itself back together.
“…Fine,” she growled. “Do it. Ten seconds.”
Enya gawked. Ten seconds?! That’s too short! But she nodded quickly, already kneeling.
She set the Gravemoss and plant down in the grass and extended her hand, palm up, carefully channeling her mana. A small pulse sparked—harmless, deliberately slow.
A single humerus formed, ghostly-white, hovering for a moment before it clattered gently onto the ground.
Enya picked it up and passed it to Zerus.
Without hesitation, Zerus gripped the bone, tucked it beneath her armpit, and snapped it in half. Then she grabbed the pieces and crushed the middle section with a single motion—her fingers pulverizing the bone to powder as if it were dry chalk.
Enya blinked. She’d expected splinters, maybe another pass of crushing the pieces. But Zerus’ strength left no trace of hardened struggle. She opened her bloodied hand, letting the bone powder spill onto the earth.
Enya scooted forward, gathering the ingredients. She placed the Gravemoss, the plant, and the powdered bone in a neat little pile, then pressed her hands together and summoned a steady stream of Soul-Energy.
It glowed from her fingertips—soft, cool, and purple. It wove through the ingredients, pulling them together, coaxing them into union.
The moss twitched, the powder shimmered. The plant darkened, curling slightly.
And then—like breathing life into something dead—the ingredients folded into one another.
All that was left of the ingredients, was a small pulsing bundle of purple moss: The Gravemoss Poultice.
Enya held the completed poultice carefully in her palms, watching the faint glow fade into a steady, dull sheen.
“It’s done,” she said quietly. “It won’t heal it… but it’ll numb the pain.”
Zerus looked down at her, silent.
Enya swallowed and glanced at the demon’s shoulder—still torn, still sizzling faintly with embedded heat. “You just… have to press it onto the wound.”
A long pause passed between them. Then Zerus knelt slowly, the movement strained and deliberate. Her eyes flicked to Enya’s hands, to the salve she cradled like a delicate offering.
After a breath of hesitation, Zerus reached out.
Her fingers curled around the poultice, claws careful not to dig in. She stared at it a second longer than necessary, then shifted her cloak and laid the salve gently against the gaping flesh of her shoulder.
The effect was near-instant.
Zerus flinched first, teeth clenched, muscles twitching from the contact—but within moments, her breathing slowed. The pain evaporated. Her body relaxed ever so slightly, the constant tension in her jaw and brow softening as the numbing took hold.
She exhaled, a sound that might’ve been relief… or just surprise.
Then she sat there, unmoving.
Her expression shifted—subtle, but telling. Brows drawn together, mouth tightened, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. She didn’t speak, didn’t thank her. But something inside her cracked.
Zerus looked at the young girl, her capture target. This girl… this hostage—wasn’t supposed to help her.
Zerus was the one meant to drag her across realms. The one meant to keep her contained until the master called. The one ferrying her toward whatever cruel fate awaited on the other end. Another experiment perhaps, maybe another thing to be broken. She didn’t know. She couldn’t, know.
But even knowing that, even after witnessing what Zerus truly was—Enya had still tried to help.
She still looked at her like a person.
“Thank you,” Zerus said quietly.
It wasn’t gratitude she deserved, especially not with what she was doing right now.
And worse yet—she couldn’t give anything back.
“I… can’t stop,” she said, voice low and frayed. She didn’t meet Enya’s eyes. “Orders are orders. I can’t… disobey.”
It was almost a whisper. Not anger. Not regret. Just the truth.
Enya didn’t respond. She just sat in the dirt beside her, the last traces of Soul-Energy still fading from her fingertips, casting a soft glow across her hands.
She already knew.
Zerus was a prisoner, too.
Just one wearing a different kind of chain.
Without warning, Zerus moved. She reached forward, grabbing Enya’s arm—not rough, but firm—and pulled her to her feet. In one motion, she lifted her up, wrapping her good arm around her and pressing her close, securing her against her side like precious cargo.
Then she ran.
Fast.
Branches whipped past, trees blurred into streaks, the world becoming a smear of green and wind. Enya’s head was tucked beside Zerus' neck, facing backward, the forest vanishing behind her one heartbeat at a time.
She didn’t struggle. She just watched.
And then—a sound. A faint chime echoed from within Zerus’ cloak, metallic and clear.
Zerus halted instantly, her body seizing with tension. Her feet skidded to a stop against the dirt.
She trembled.
Slowly, she set Enya down, her movements stiff. One hand dipped into her cloak. From within, she pulled out a circular device, one with an embedded crystal—small, white, veined with faint silver lines.
It pulsed with light.
Then, a voice, young, and childlike, rang out from within. “Zerus. Give me a status update. What of Lia Empyria?”