As the royal attendant vanished into the shadows, the crimson portal shimmered, then collapsed inward, leaving the forest eerily silent for a heartbeat. Ophelia stood still, her gaze shifting to the clearing where the wolves still swarmed the Holy Knights. Then, out of the chaos, a break in the frenzy revealed fifteen wolves walking toward her.
They peeled away from the main pack, their growls low and guttural, their eyes glowing with hunger. The beasts began to circle, their claws digging into the ground as their growls grew louder. Strings of saliva dangled from their jaws, falling in thick drops onto the dirt.
Ophelia remained utterly still, her breathing steady. Her silver eyes as calm as ever, tracked the wolves as they shifted around her.
Then slowly, she exhaled.
[Parasitic Hardening]
Without warning, a small, circular opening formed in the center of her forehead. The skin stretched and tore. The pain was sharp but fleeting, and the moment it vanished, the mask materialized. Black and gray, rough and almost rocky, and of course, otherworldly. It seemed to latch onto her face like a second skin.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, pumping with a rhythm that filled her chest like thunder. Adrenaline surged, but her body betrayed no sign of it. Instead, her lips curved upward, and the smile that formed stretched unnaturally, reaching all the way to her ears.
The wolves froze for a moment, confused by the transformation. Ophelia tilted her head slightly, the movement almost playful. Her hands loosened at her sides, her posture relaxed, as though the circling predators were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"Take it easy on me," She grinned.
The wolves moved as one, their snarls blending into a single, guttural roar. Ophelia stood her ground, her body loose, her eyes cold and steady. When the first wolf sprang forward, she reacted without hesitation. Her left foot slid back, grounding her stance. She shot her right hand upward, fingers tightening around the wolf's throat mid-leap. With a sharp twist of her hips, she swung it sideways, its body slamming into another wolf barreling toward her. Both creatures hit the ground, yelping.
Another wolf lunged from behind. Ophelia dropped low, her knees bending as her palm pressed into the dirt for balance. The wolf's claws sliced the air where her shoulder had been, and as it passed overhead, she spun. Her elbow drove upward, catching it under the ribs and sending it tumbling with a pained whimper.
The pack adjusted, circling tighter, their movements coordinated. Two darted in from opposite sides, jaws snapping in tandem. Ophelia stepped into the space between them, twisting at the last second.
The wolves collided, their snarls cutting short as they crumpled into each other. Before they could recover, she lashed out with her leg, her heel slamming into one's ribs. The creature collapsed, wheezing.
A sharp growl to her left drew her focus. A wolf lunged for her thigh, its teeth biting inches from her leg. Ophelia spun on her heel. Her left hand clamped onto its muzzle, while her right fist drove into its skull. The force of the blow sent it sprawling, motionless.
Another wolf immediately leaped for her chest. She raised her arm, catching its charge against her forearm. Her other hand gripped its fur as she twisted, redirecting its momentum and slamming it into the ground. Bones cracked under the impact.
As she moved, the mask on her face began to pulse. A low, creeping sensation spread from her forehead, snaking down her cheeks and neck like winding vines. Black, jagged patterns coiled across her skin, weaving over her shoulders and branching toward her back.
Her breaths came steady, but beneath the calm, she felt the strange energy coursing through her. The hardening crawled down her right arm, reaching her hand, where it solidified into a jagged, rocky surface.
Ophelia froze mid-movement. The world around her seemed to blur, the snarls of wolves fading into an eerie, suffocating silence. Her limbs felt heavy, rooted in place as if some unseen force held her down.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She blinked.
When her eyes opened again, the forest was gone. Instead, she stood in a barren, frozen expanse framed by jagged cliffs of ice. The air was thick, heavy with an otherworldly chill that pressed against her skin. The ground beneath her boots was rough, frost-coated stone, fractured and uneven.
Towering above, an impossibly massive creature loomed between the cliffs. Its form was grotesque, its skin an unsettling blend of sinew and shifting organic patterns. White tendrils flowed from its head like strands of corrupted silk, and its hollow gaze stared down, unmoving but oppressive.
Ophelia's breath was cut short. It wasn't just the towering monstrosity that held her attention… no, it was her own body. Her perspective felt off, disjointed, as though her body wasn't her own. The sensation was jarring, like slipping into someone else's skin. She looked down and saw not her hands, but the hands of another figure: A male form clad in dark, ragged clothing. Her, or rather, his hand was blackened with a sleek, jagged hardening, the material far more polished and predatory than her own had been moments before.
The hardening extended to the fingertips, seamlessly merging into his skin's texture. She clenched the hand instinctively. The hardened surface rippled, shifting, and growing. From the center of the palm, a curved, scythe-like blade erupted, black and glinting even in the pale, soft light. The weapon was massive, far larger than the figure wielding it, and its arc was so extreme it seemed to defy balance. Yet, as Ophelia shifted her weight through this unfamiliar body, it moved effortlessly, like an extension of her arm.
She looked up again, her gaze drawn back to the hulking entity. A deep, thrumming sound resonated through the air, shaking the ground beneath her feet. It wasn't just a noise… it was a feeling, a reverberation that settled deep in her chest. She had no words for the connection she felt, but her pulse quickened, and the blade in her hand pulsed with the same unearthly energy as the tendrils now creeping from her host's figure.
Then, Ophelia blinked.
The cold expanse and the towering monstrosity vanished in an instant. She was back in the forest, the snarling pack of wolves circling her once more. For a fleeting moment, she swayed, disoriented by the abrupt shift.
She couldn't help but mutter, "So these are the parasite's memories…"
But her instincts snapped into focus as one wolf lunged for her.
She clenched her fist without thinking, and the sensation of the hardening returned. It crawled over her hand, twisting and reshaping, solidifying into a short, curved blade that extended from her knuckles. It was similar to the previous scythe she had seen, but far less powerful. The wolves sensed the shift, their snarls faltering for a heartbeat before they resumed, more frenzied than before.
Three wolves sprang at her simultaneously, a blur of fur and fangs. Ophelia stepped forward to meet them, fearless. Her blade drove into the throat of the first wolf mid-leap, the creature crumpling instantly as its lifeblood spilled onto the forest floor.
She wrenched the blade free, spinning with the momentum to slash at the second wolf's side. Its howl rang out as it staggered back, blood staining its matted fur. The third wolf was quicker, lunging for her exposed side. She shifted, her left arm snapping up to strike its jaw and knock it off course.
The pack pressed closer, their tactics became more coordinated, however, Ophelia didn't falter. Her steps were precise, and each movement was calculated. One wolf darted low, aiming for her ankle. She jumped back, and as her boots hit the ground, her blade came down in a brutal arc, severing the creature's spine literally in half.
Another wolf came from above, claws reaching for her shoulders. Ophelia twisted sideways, avoiding the attack, and thrust her blade upward, burying it in the wolf's chest. She twisted the weapon as she pulled it free, the body crumpling to the dirt.
Ophelia spun, the jagged blade in her hand cutting through the air as another wolf lunged from the side. She ducked low, letting the beast sail past her shoulder. Before it could land, her free hand grabbed its hind leg and yanked. The wolf slammed into the ground, snarling, but its cries were silenced as her blade drove into its chest, piercing through its heart.
Two wolves charged from opposite directions, their eyes locked on her. She took a sharp step backward, letting them converge on the spot she had just vacated. They collided, their bodies tangling in a mess of limbs and claws. Ophelia darted forward, her blade slicing through one wolf's neck in a single motion. The second wolf growled, snapping at her leg. She lifted her knee, driving it into the creature's head, then plunged her blade into its back as it staggered.
She turned sharply, her senses catching another wolf leaping at her from behind. Her left arm shot up, catching the creature mid-air. With a grunt, she hurled it into a tree. The sickening crack of its spine echoed, and it slid to the ground lifeless.
Another wolf tried to seize the moment, diving low to bite her ankle. Ophelia shifted her weight onto her back foot and slammed her heel down on its skull. The wolf yelped, and she followed with a quick downward thrust of her blade, ending its struggle.
The pack pressed closer, snarling and snapping, but their attacks became erratic as their numbers thinned. Ophelia kept moving, her blade slashing and stabbing, her feet light and quick. When two wolves lunged together, she sidestepped, letting them barrel into one another. She twisted into a low spin, her blade arcing across their exposed sides. Both fell, their growls turning into faint whimpers.
A wolf sprang at her side, its claws reaching for her neck. She ducked, then surged upward, slamming her shoulder into its ribs. The impact sent it flying, but before it hit the ground, Ophelia closed the distance. Her blade pierced its throat, and ended it just like that.
The final four wolves circled her, two of them already severely injured but still managed to keep going, their growls harmonizing into a guttural chorus. They attacked in pairs now, testing her defenses, each pair moving as if to create an opening for the next. Ophelia didn't give them the chance. When one came for her front, she dashed toward it, meeting its leap with an upward slash. The wolf dropped, and she pivoted instantly, her blade slicing into the second wolf's hind leg before it could retreat. As it limped, she spun, driving the weapon deep into its side.
Three remained. One lunged high, aiming for her throat. She jumped to meet it, her knee striking its chest mid-air. The wolf hit the ground hard. Her blade followed a heartbeat later, ending it.
The second wolf came low, jaws wide, but she kicked out sharply, her boot catching its snout. The creature reeled, and before it could recover, her fist slammed into its skull brutally. She grabbed its fur, yanking it down as her blade pierced its spine.
The last wolf hesitated, snarling but unmoving. Ophelia straightened, her breath steady, the blade in her hand dripping with blood. She tilted her head, her mask amplifying the eerie grin she wore.
Soon, the wolf charged, perhaps out of desperation. Ophelia let it come, stepping aside at the last moment. She reached out, grabbing its neck with both hands. With a sharp twist, she snapped its spine, the lifeless body dropping at her feet.
The clearing fell silent. Blood soaked the earth, and the corpses of the wolves lay scattered around her. Ophelia stood still, her blade melting back into her hand as the hardening receded. She exhaled, the faint pulse of energy fading, leaving only the sound of her breathing and the distant cries of the ongoing battle behind her.
"Urgh…" She gripped her head as a throbbing pain reverberated through her skull.
As Ophelia gripped her head, flashes of memories tore through her mind like shards of glass, sharp and incoherent. Faces she didn't recognize, their expressions twisted in agony and fear, flickered before her. A pair of amber eyes stared back at her, wide with terror, only to dissolve into darkness. A child's laughter echoed faintly, sweet but haunting, before morphing into a piercing scream that made her shiver. Then came the images of landscapes—ruined cities, burning forests, a crimson sea stretching endlessly under a sunless sky. The scenes shifted too fast for her to grasp, each one slipping from her mental digits like smoke.
Her vision blurred, and her knees buckled slightly as a new sensation crept through her. It was subtle at first, a strange, crawling awareness in the back of her mind. The flashes slowed, but they didn't stop. Instead, they converged into something more vivid: a man's voice, deep and commanding, speaking in a language she didn't understand.
His tone was resolute, almost reverent, as if delivering a prayer or a curse. Around his words swirled images of jagged, dark blades and a creature with hollow, glowing eyes—its tendrils shifting and twisting as it loomed above him.
Ophelia's breath hitched as the last image froze in her mind. It wasn't the memory itself that terrified her—it was the sensation of recognition. Somehow, impossibly, it felt familiar, as though she had lived it, though she knew it wasn't hers.
It couldn't be hers.
Her heart thundered in her chest as the flashes finally faded, leaving only a lingering emptiness. Slowly, she exhaled, steadying herself. But as her breathing calmed, an icy realization gripped her. Goosebumps erupted across her arms, shooting down her spine in a chilling wave. Her hands trembled as she brought them in front of her face. They looked normal now—no blackened hardening, no jagged edges—but she couldn't shake the suffocating sensation that had taken hold.
For a fleeting moment, she thought it was adrenaline. Her body, though battered and tense, seemed under her control. She flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, and steadied her stance. But deep down, a horrifying certainty churned in her gut: it wasn't entirely her. The memory of the blade erupting from her palm, of her body reacting to the wolves with inhuman precision, replayed in her mind.
"With my constitution as a Mana-Touched, this should not have been possible…" She muttered.
She clenched her jaw as the realization settled in. It wasn't her instincts. It wasn't even her skill. Every movement, every perfectly timed strike, every calculated step—it wasn't hers. It was the parasite.
Her chest heaved as the truth clawed its way into her thoughts. She'd thought she had regained control, thought she was commanding the thing inside her. But now, with the blood-soaked clearing around her and the silence pressing in like a weight, she understood. The parasite hadn't been dormant—it had been guiding her, manipulating her.
She pressed her hands to her arms, the cold prickling of her goosebumps spreading as though her skin itself rejected the foreign presence. Her silver eyes darted to the ground, to the bodies of the wolves she'd slain with unnatural ferocity. Had she wanted to kill them all? Was that her intent? Or its?
"How terrifying," She coldly stared at the blood-splattered ground. "I hate it."
The idea of something having control over her was utterly disgusting to her. Not some fake control where she is within somebody's palm yet she knows how to escape it… but a type of control where she is held within the palm of somebody and knows no way out.
"I have to plan more. What I am doing is nowhere near enough. There are too many unknown variables despite having knowledge from my previous life…"