The Commander of the Night’s carapace, so hard and unyielding, met Grey Wind on Promi’s sword blade and was pierced as effortlessly as paper—there was no suspense at all.
The sound of shattering was instantly drowned out by the howling gale. The wind, carrying splinters of broken shell and ruined flesh, sprayed out from the wound in the giant insect’s back.
The monstrous bug staggered back several steps, pushed by the backblast of the wild wind, its huge limbs clattering. Yet, instead of collapsing, it stood rooted to the spot like a statue.
“Don’t look. Let’s go.”
With a twist, Promi swept the lingering power on her sword, shattering both the massive ice spike conjured by the magic scroll and the beetles that had already crawled onto it.
Lita raised her sword and followed, stepping across the crumbling ice spike. Together with Promi, she leaped in the direction they had come.
But at that moment, a deep rumble echoed behind Lita.
It wasn’t all that loud, but at this moment, only one creature could make such a sound.
The very Commander of the Night whom Promi’s sword had pierced through!
Instinctively, Lita whipped her head back.
She saw that creature—its chest torn wide open, organs still oozing out of the gaping hole—stretching its jaws as if something was about to spew forth.
No, something had already been spat out.
Something abstract, invisible and intangible, but undeniably real, pressing ever closer to the two of them.
Lita was airborne—unless she spread her wings now, there was nowhere to dodge.
Yet even if she tried, she probably wouldn’t make it in time.
She felt as if something had drilled into her mind, but then, like a flicker of flame, it was instantly snuffed out by a fleeting flash of green.
“Damn.” Promi muttered to herself, then raised her voice several notches: “Hold on! Let’s get out of here!”
Lita couldn’t remember how far she ran. All she remembered was cutting and cutting—whenever a bug got in her way, she’d draw her sword and cleave it in two.
It was a thousand times harder than the battle at the camp, for she was now deep in the swarm, with no one to share the burden of their assault.
Actually, there was someone else—but as the one who had slain both the Broodmother and the Commander herself, Promi’s plight was no better than Lita’s.
Not until night fell did the two of them finally break free of that swarming tide.
Even then, the scent of countless insects clung to their bodies. Tonight, peace would be a distant hope.
To be safe, they decided to sleep in the trees.
They wove a simple hammock from vines between two trunks and placed their sleeping bags on top. It was crude and unstable, hardly secure, but better than being ambushed by bugs tunneling up from the ground.
Once everything was set up, the first thing Promi did wasn’t to pull out her little notebook—she instead crawled over to Lita.
“Lita, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, really—though my wounds sting a bit.” Lita spoke as she showed the scratches from beetle claws on her arms and legs.
All things considered, this mission had been fraught with danger, but both of them had made it back alive and with no serious injuries. That alone was a Miracle.
“I’m not talking about those,” Promi said, still staring at Lita. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, making it hard to see Lita’s expression, but Promi’s rare anxiety was clear as day to Lita.
“……”
“The Commander of the Night’s Hex.”
“What Hex?” Lita blinked.
“Did you feel a sharp pain in your head? Did you hear someone whispering in your ear?” Promi asked.
Lita didn’t even need to think. “No, not at all! Don’t say things like that! I’m definitely not cursed!”
If this had been before she’d heard Cecilia’s explanations, she might have worried. Now, Lita didn’t want anyone—even Promi—thinking she’d been cursed.
“That’s not how it should be……” Promi muttered.
“Stop, stop! What’s going on? What Hex?” Lita waved her arms to cut her off.
“When the Commander of the Night is dying, it can cast a Hex at the cost of its own soul. The cursed will hear endless whispers and feel as if their mind is being kneaded. Madness comes quickly.” Promi explained.
“No! Absolutely not!” Lita hastily protested.
Promi looked Lita up and down in the moonlight; seeing her so lively, with not a hint of madness or possession, she continued at last.
“This Hex is cruel but easy to break—only, most go mad before it’s lifted… I thought I’d finish it in one blow, or at least escape in time, but…”
Promi pressed her lips together, hesitating for a long moment, then muttered in a tiny voice, “I’m so useless.”
Lita heard, but with emotional intelligence above zero, she wisely pretended to be deaf and quickly changed the subject, her tone as lively as before.
“Hey, but see? I’m perfectly fine! All in all, we’ve won a great victory here, right?”
“That’s right.” Promi soon returned to her usual tone, though a trace of disappointment lingered.
“By the way, what was that you used earlier? Was that a Brand?”
“You mean an Emblem?”
“Ah, yes, that’s it! Was that an Emblem?”
“No, Emblems are exclusive to the Holy Knights. Only the very best of them have Emblems—I’m not even a Holy Knight, so there’s no way I could have one.”
Promi explained, though her voice sounded even more dispirited.
“Then what was it?”
“Just a Battle Technique.”
Lita couldn’t help but marvel, “It looked just like magic to me.”
“Battle Techniques are different from magic. There are also Prayers, Miracles, Hexes, and other branches. Some overlap, some are completely separate—some turn inward, some draw on the power of elements in the air, some use the energy in Magic Stones. If you want, I can explain in detail.”
“No, no, that’s alright.”
Ugh, finally a hard-won victory—she had no desire for another round of Promi’s lectures.
But from Promi’s tone, it seemed her earlier gloom had faded quite a bit.
Why did it feel like ever since she arrived in Solus City, so many girls had shown their vulnerable side around her?
Did she have some kind of succubus constitution?
No, not a succubus—a dream demon.
Except for Momoka and Valphis, most girls who spent much time with her ended up this way.
As for Momoka, Lita figured she preferred confiding in alcohol over people.
And Valphis—well, she was a dream demon herself, the leader, even.
“In any case, after tonight, let’s go back and report the good news!”
The next day, at noon.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
A soldier burst into Cecilia’s tent, making Cecilia frown slightly.
There hadn’t been any particularly useful news these last few days—only confirmation of safety in some regions. But information about the truly dangerous core area remained a mystery.
“What is it?” Cecilia asked.
Her eyes immediately fell on what the soldier was carrying.
A broken sword. Two weeks ago, she’d personally handed it to Lita.
Cecilia drew in a sharp breath, but her face showed no panic.
She could not afford to panic.
“What is that?”
“Momoka and Alber returned—they said these were stuck in a tree, with a mess all around. We brought them to General Maggie, but she insisted we show them to Your Highness first.”
As he spoke, the soldier presented the broken sword and another item with both hands.
It was a note.
Cecilia opened it. Though it was stained with blood, she could recognize Lita’s handwriting and make out the words.
“Camp… devoured… direction is at the outpost…”
“Swarm Migration, suspect a Commander of the Night is leading…”
“Broodmother, Commander of the Night have been slain…”
Last night, in the forest.
A vast, unseen force yanked Lita violently out of her uneasy dreams.
The earth was trembling—not the distant rumble of a marching swarm, but a true earthquake.
Tree trunks wailed mournfully, splinters flying like torn flesh. The trees weren’t toppling outward, but collapsing inward and downward, devoured by a greedy mouth beneath the ground.
The land was no longer solid. Gaping fissures split open, edges sharp as fresh sword wounds on an insect’s shell. Black soil and white rock layers were laid bare to the air.
Then, at the center of the torn earth, a slab of earth mixed with boulders, trees, and soil began to rise—slowly, as if a giant were lifting its bedding with its back, raising the entire forest and even the earth itself.
“Promi!”
“Something’s moving! Run!”
On top of that upheaving earth, Lita and Promi were as insignificant as bugs clinging to a blanket.
No words could truly describe what they saw.
If she had to put it in words, with her limited vocabulary, Lita could only say this:
The earth… stood up.
In the tent, Cecilia gripped the blood-stained note tightly, her brows knotted as she read the final line.
“The True Enemy… Lord of the Night…”
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