Clip-clop, clip-clop!
The rhythmic clop of hooves echoed through the frost-laden air as we rode into the predawn gloom. I slumped in Otto's saddle, my eyelids drooping.
Yawn...
"Stop yawning!" Fleda hissed, swatting my arm. "You'll curse us with your laziness!"
"But why," I whined, my breath puffing white, "did we leave at four in the morning?"
Alruna pulled her scarf tighter. "Kasparian said there were... developments near Nothhelm." Her teeth chattered. "Though I agree—this cold could freeze a dragon's heart."
A shiver crawled up my spine, unrelated to the chill. The road to Nothhelm lay unnervingly silent. No birdsong, no rustling in the brush—just the hollow clip-clop of our horses' steps. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"Look!" Grigore barked suddenly, pointing downhill. "Smoke from chimneys! That's the village!"
Nothhelm crouched in the valley below, its thatched roofs dusted with snow. Beyond it, a charred forest clawed at the horizon, skeletal trees blackened as if dipped in ink. The sight tightened my chest. Just like the rumors.
We dismounted at the village outskirts. No children laughed in the lanes. No farmers tended livestock. Only the creak of signposts broke the silence.
"This isn't right," Marcia murmured, gloved hand hovering near her dagger. "Where's the patrol? The morning market?"
Our footsteps rang too loud on the frozen dirt.
"Hello?!" Fleda called. "Is anyone—"
"Psst! Over here!"
A gnarled hand shot out from a cottage doorway, beckoning frantically. The village head—a hunched man with eyes like cracked pottery—ushered us inside. His home smelled of rosemary and fear.
"You're from the Guild?" he rasped, bolting the door. "Fourth team this month. The others... didn't last."
Kasparian crossed his arms. "Explain."
"It started with the forest." The man's knuckles whitened on his cane. "First, hunters vanished. Then children. Now, none dare step beyond their thresholds after dark." His gaze flicked to the boarded windows. "Even daylight offers no safety."
"And the monster?" Alruna pressed.
"No one's seen it. Only... effects."
A draft slithered through the room. I hugged myself, suddenly aware of the hearth's dying embers. "Effects like what?"
Before he could answer, Fleda gasped. "Sis—look," her fingers pointing to the window.
Outside, the world had turned upside down.
Black snow fell...
Thud.
...And darkness swallowed the world.
"What...!? Why is everything black!?" I screamed, but my voice sounded muffled, drowned in the void.
"Damn it! What's happening!?" Grigore roared nearby.
"Where are you, Sis, Alruna!?" Fleda's whimper cut through the chaos.
"Nine Divine Lords, Noble Gunther, shield us..." Alruna's prayer trembled.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
This isn't natural.
The blackness wasn't night—it was absence, as if the air itself had been vacuumed into oblivion. Yet I could still hear the others: ragged breaths, shuffling boots, the sound of Kasparian's boots as he shifted.
SKREEEEEEE—
Then, silence.
"Adele! Status!" Kasparian barked.
"Alive!" I croaked.
"Fleda!? Alruna!?"
No answer.
BOOM!
The house disintegrated.
An invisible force slammed into us, hurling me backward. Wood splintered, walls collapsed, and for a heartbeat, I floated—weightless, boneless—before slamming into dirt.
I coughed, spitting out dust and blood. My vision swam, the black haze thinning to reveal a nightmare.
The village head's home was gone. Only jagged planks and scattered stones remained. Kasparian and Marcia crouched nearby, blades drawn, their clothes torn but posture unbroken. Veterans. Unlike me—a scraped-up rookie sprawled in the rubble.
"Fleda! Alruna!" I shouted, voice raw. "Answer me!"
Nothing.
"Focus," Kasparian snapped. "Assume hostiles nearby."
Marcia scanned the thinning smoke. "The attack came from nowhere. No mana residue. No footsteps. I didn't even feel it coming."
I staggered upright, ignoring the sting of cuts. The ashen snow had stopped, but the forest loomed closer now, its glassy trees reflecting our fractured silhouettes.
"We can't abandon them!" I hissed.
"We won't." Kasparian's talon twitched toward his bow. "But recklessness gets everyone killed. Move."
We advanced in a triangle—Kasparian forward, Marcia flanking left, me trailing—through the ruined village. Our eyes darted, scanning for any sign of movement. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat.
"Heuk!"
I almost threw up.
The scene was pure horror. Blood was everywhere—torn flesh, scattered brains and intestines, eyes staring blankly at the sky. The stench was unbearable, a sickeningly metallic odor of death and decay.
"...This isn't a monster," Marcia muttered. "It's a force. A curse."
Marcia was right. This wasn't just a monster, it was something beyond comprehension. The sheer destruction and brutality was like a nightmare. I felt completely alone. Where were Fleda and Alruna? Were they even alive?
Kasparian scanned the ruins, his eagle eyes sharp. "The village is lost. Whatever struck here is around."
Marcia wiped ash from her dagger. "Gone? Or retreated?"
"Retreat to the forest." Kasparian gestured at the petrified trees looming in the distance. "This wasn't random. It's hunting."
"Hunting?" I staggered upright. "Then Fleda and Alruna—!"
"If they're alive, they will chose to retreat first." His voice hardened. "We move. Now."
I clenched my fists. If they're even alive.
We reached the edge of Nothhelm, where the cobblestone path dissolved into cracked earth. The petrified forest waited, its glass-barked trees reflecting the pale dawn like grotesque mirrors.
"Stay close," Kasparian ordered. "And quiet."
The woods swallowed us whole.
...
Tok-tok-tok.
The sound followed us as we retreated through the petrified forest.
I stumbled after Kasparian and Marcia, my boots crunching on glass-like leaves. Every nerve screamed to run faster, but the forest seemed to breathe, its twisted branches clawing at our retreat. Behind us, the village of Nothhelm lay in ruins—shattered homes, upturned earth, and the lingering stench of death and decay.
Thud.
Marcia's voice cut through the haze. "What the—? Who left this creepy statue here!?"
I whirled. She stood frozen before a towering figure—a grotesque, obsidian monolith that hadn't been there moments ago. Its surface pulsed with a sickly red glow, mana so dense it warped the air.
"Marcia—get away from it!" I shouted, my heart pounding in my chest. But curiosity flickered in her eyes as she tilted her head.
"Why? It's just—"
Snick.
Before she could finish, the statue came alive with a flicker of shadow, and in an instant, Marcia's head rolled onto the ground, separated from her body. The sight was surreal, as if time had slowed down just to deliver this blow.
Blood arced through the air—crimson against the ashen sky—before her body crumpled. The statue's glow intensified, greedily drinking the splatter like wine.
I couldn't move. Couldn't scream. My mind fractured, reality splintering into shards: Marcia's golden hair fanned across the dirt, Kasparian's talons digging into my arm as he hauled me backward, the statue's hollow eyes tracking our retreat.
"Adele! Breathe!" Kasparian's voice felt distant, muffled. He slung me over his shoulder, his feathers matted with sweat and ash. The forest blurred as he ran, his breaths ragged, his heartbeat a frantic drum against my ribs.
We navigated through the forest, moving swiftly but cautiously. Eventually, we circled back toward the village outskirts, scanning the devastation for any sign of our comrades. The smoke had thinned enough to reveal the gruesome scene more clearly.
"Fleda! Alruna!" My voice cracked. Kasparian's eyes darted around the ruins, ever vigilant.
"There!" He pointed toward a collapsed structure. Two figures lay motionless—one sprawled on her stomach, silver hair caked in dirt; the other curled fetal, glasses askew.
I rushed from Kasparian's back, each movement mechanical, heart pounding. Fleda's pulse fluttered weakly under my fingers. Alruna stirred, murmuring nonsense as I shook her.
"Wake up," I begged to Fleda. "Please."
Her eyes fluttered open. "S-sis...?"
I crushed her to my chest, tears searing my cheeks. Fleda groaned, squinting up at me. "Why're you... crying?"
The question shattered me.
Crash!
Grigore erupted from a pile of rubble, his beard singed, his axe clutched in white-knuckled fists. "Nine Hells! Thought I'd die buried under that damn—" He froze, taking in our huddled forms. "Where's Marcia?"
Kasparian stepped forward, his voice stripped of its usual steel. "Gone."
"Gone? What d'you mean gone?!"
"The statue. It... took her."
Silence hung like a shroud. Kasparian's talons dug into the dirt, his feathers ruffling in the ashen wind. Grigore's jaw tightened, the dwarf's usual bluster replaced by a grim nod. Fleda and Alruna stared at us, their faces pale under streaks of dried blood and soot.
"...Haa." Grigore broke the stillness, his voice gravelly. "If you're actin' like that, I already know what happened to Marcia. Just... keep talkin'."
Kasparian's gaze dropped. "Thank you, Grigore. But let me... let me explain."
We gathered in the shadow of a half-collapsed barn, the air thick with unspoken grief. Kasparian outlined the facts—the shadowed statue, Marcia's careless curiosity, the split-second severing of her life—like a general briefing troops, but his gaze kept drifting to the forest.
Each word carved deeper into the air, sharp and cold. Fleda's hands trembled. Alruna's glasses fogged with tears she refused to shed.
"The statue," Kasparian finished, "isn't alive. It's a thing. A weapon. It manipulates Law on a scale I've never seen. The black snow, the force that crushed the village... all its doing."
Grigore spat. "A High Demon?"
"Worse." My voice surprised even me. "Vdelygma, I think."
Four pairs of eyes snapped to me.
"Legends say they're fallen gods," I continued, the words spilling like a dam breaking. "They appeared during the Eight-Year War, mistaken for demons because they slaughtered both sides. Their forms are... wrong. Unnatural. They speak in tongues no one understands. And their power—"
"Matches a Dragon Lord's," Kasparian finished grimly. "Which explains why every Guild team vanished. We're insects to it."
Fleda hugged her knees. "So... we're dead."
"Not yet." Kasparian stood abruptly. "We retreat to Tiel. Now."
"The horses—" Alruna began.
"Are crippled," Grigore growled. "Legs shattered by debris. Useless."
A collective breath hissed through clenched teeth. The forest groaned behind us, its glass trees shimmering like jagged teeth.
"Then we walk." Kasparian adjusted his quiver, talons scraping steel. "Staying here is suicide."
"But the Vdelygma—"
"Will hunt us regardless." He cut Fleda off. "Our only hope is to outpace it until we cross into Tiel's wards."
Grigore barked a laugh. "Outpace a god? Delusional, birdbrain."
"Got a better plan, dwarf?"
"Aye. Dig a hole and pray it chokes on my axe."
"Enough!" My shout silenced them. "Arguing won't—"
BOOM.
The ground erupted.
A force like a titan's fist slammed into us, hurling me backward. My skull cracked against stone. Warmth trickled down my neck—blood or ash, I couldn't tell. Through ringing ears, I heard screams.
"Fleda! Alruna!" I crawled, vision swimming.
The Vdelygma stood amidst the ruins, its statue form now towering seventeen pes (five meters) tall. Obsidian flesh rippled with red veins, pulsing in time to the black snow swirling around it. Where its face should have been, a vortex of shadows churned, sucking in light and hope alike.
◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼!!!!
The sound wasn't a voice. It was absence—a scream carved from silence. My bones vibrated, teeth clattering. Kasparian loosed an arrow, the projectile disintegrating inches from the creature.
"Run!" he roared. "To the eastern ridge!"
We ran.
The forest closed in, glass branches slashing at our faces. Alruna stumbled, her glasses shattered. Fleda dragged her forward forcefully. Grigore brought up the rear, axe in hand, bellowing curses at the void.
Tok-tok-tok.
The statue's footsteps echoed, unhurried, inevitable.
"Faster!" Kasparian's talons flared uselessly—grounded by the suffocating mana.
A shadow loomed ahead: the ridge, its slope littered with boulders. Salvation or tomb, I didn't care. My lungs burned. My legs screamed.
SKREEEEE—
The Vdelygma's cry shattered the air. Fleda collapsed, clutching her ears. Blood seeped between her fingers.
"Leave me!" she gasped.
"Never!" Alruna hauled her up, desperation lending strength.
The statue's shadow engulfed us.
Grigore spun, axe raised. "Go! I'll hold it—"
Crunch.
The dwarf's words died as a shadow blade pierced his chest. He crumpled, his axe clattering to the ground, eyes wide and empty.
"GRIGORE!" Kasparian's roar was raw, primal. He fired arrow after arrow, each disintegrating mid-flight.
The Vdelygma stepped over Grigore's body, its hollow gaze locking on me.
◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼!!!
I fell to my knees, the sound unraveling my mind. This was it. No heroes. No miracles. Just a ragged band of fools, crushed beneath a god's boot.
Kasparian's talons dug into my arm, dragging me toward the ridge. "Climb!" he roared.
I lunged for the rocks, my body screaming—every bruise, every cut, every ounce of terror crystallizing into raw adrenaline. But the world blurred.
Whoosh.
A guttural, alien sound vibrated the air.
The Vdelygma stood before us—no longer a statue, but a grotesque mockery of life. Arms elongated into razor-tipped claws, dripping with a viscous black fluid.
◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼...
The sound wasn't a language. It was a void, devouring sense and sanity.
Then—
Pain.
White-hot, all-consuming.
I looked down. My left leg was gone, severed clean above the knee. My right eye—a burst of heat, then darkness. My stomach gaped, a ragged hole where claws had torn through flesh. Blood pooled beneath me, steaming against the cursed snow.
"SIS!!" Fleda's scream pierced the ringing silence.
Alruna lunged, pressing her scarf to my gut. "Stop the bleeding! Now!"
Kasparian's talons fumbled with a healing vial. "Hold on!"
"Stay... awake..." Alruna begged, tears mixing with my blood.
But the world dimmed. Cold seeped into my bones.
BOOM!
The ground erupted again. The Vdelygma's claw descended—
—and froze.
A prismatic windshield flared, Alruna's Script flickering like a dying star. "Run..." she whispered.
Kasparian hauled me up, talons biting into my ribs. "Climb, damn you! CLIMB!"
I crawled. Hand over mangled hand. Stone tore my palms. Blood slicked the rocks.
Below, Fleda screamed. Alruna's shield shattered.
The Vdelygma's laughter—a thousand needles in my skull—drowned their cries.
◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼.
Not long after, darkness swallowed me.
***
Cold.
A numbness so deep it felt like drowning in an endless sea.
After that—
"Hey, little one~ Good morning! Oh, but you're not 'good,' are you? Fufufu~"
The voice slithered into my skull—honeyed, mocking, looking down. My remaining eye fluttered open. No one stood in the blood-soaked snow. No one but the Vdelygma's shadow looming over Fleda's crumpled form.
"Look at you~" The voice purred, its cadence playful yet venomous. "Minutes left. Maybe seconds. And when you're gone, your friends will follow. Those sweet little siblings you adore? Oh, they'll scream so prettily as that thing tears them apart~"
I tried to speak, but my throat gurgled. Hallucination. It has to be.
"Tsk. Still denying me? Even now?" The voice sharpened, a blade wrapped in silk. "But I'm your only hope. The only one who can rewrite this tragedy."
Rewrite. The word hooked into my crumbling mind. Fleda. Alruna. Marcia. Grigore. Their faces flickered—broken, bleeding, gone.
"What... do you... want?" I rasped inwardly, every syllable a struggle.
"Your mana. Every drop."
A laugh rattled my shattered chest. Mana was life. To drain it completely meant to become a cripple, or worse, death. But death was already here, its claws around my throat.
"Think, little moth~" The voice cooed. "What if I could turn back time? Erase this Vdelygma from existence? Make it so none of this ever happened? All it costs is... you."
Lies. But desperation choked reason. Fleda's screams pierced the haze—the Vdelygma's claws poised above her.
"Whatever!" The word tore from me, raw and ragged. "Just take it! Take everything!"
"Ahahaha! Wonderful!" The voice crescendoed, euphoric. "Adele Ercangaud... from this moment, you are mine."
ZAP.
Agony.
My veins ignited, mana ripped from every cell—a wildfire devouring flesh and bone. The world fractured. Literally.
The voice's laughter echoed—a hollow, joyless sound. "Accept my gift, little puppet! A world where your precious ones breathe."
But I felt it—the hollowness where my mana had been. A void gnawing at my core.
"Why...?" I whispered as the light dimmed.
"Because your despair is delicious. Fufufu~"
***