The clock struck twelve, and the village of Hunfor passed into the next day, its citizens having fallen asleep long ago. Every home was dark except for one. Within Drusi’s home, Saya readied herself for bed, a single candle dimly illuminating the house.
As a way of thanking her, the schoolteacher invited the mage into her home, letting her sleep in warm sheets rather than crashing in the back of the carriage like she had for the entire trip. As Saya’s eyelids grew heavier, the sound of light footsteps moving back and forth distracted her, keeping her awake.
Drusi’s house was small and quaint, with not much furniture decorating the interior. There was only a single desk, chair, bed, and clock. Of course, it came with a kitchen and cabinets, but besides that, her house was just as bare as Hana’s room at the castle.
She lay on the bed, Drusi insisting that she would take the floor instead. No matter how much Saya protested, she couldn’t beat the oppressive space-invasion tactic that Drusi employed.
After a few seconds, the lights went out, the sounds of the schoolteacher shuffling under her blankets being the only noise bouncing around the house. With the world suddenly going dark, Saya couldn’t help but succumb to the deep embrace of slumber.
It had only been a day since she slept in a real bed, back at the inn in Codit. But with the amount of tension and physical energy she expended from morning to night, her body was completely worn out.
Not to mention the large feast she partook in, putting her in a state of food coma far faster than she could have anticipated. In mere minutes, her quiet snores and rhythmic breathing were all that could be heard.
Cutting through the noise, quiet rustles of fabric moved across the house, clashing against the mage’s snores.
The house had become illuminated by the moonlight, no longer pitch black. If she had still been awake, there was no doubt that her eyes would have adjusted.
Unbeknownst to her, a tall shadow loomed over her helpless sleeping body, scanning the mage from head to toe and confirming her current state. If she had been pretending, or had not fully fallen asleep yet, she would have noticed the silhouette looking over her.
After a second or so, the silhouette took steps as lightly as possible, slowly yanking the coat from the desk.
Creaking the door open ever so slowly, the silhouette slipped into the night, leaving Saya all alone at home. There were no animals or humans wandering in what seemed like a dead village.
Crickets and other insects instantly met the silhouette at the door, waiting for someone to walk into their domain. Normally, insects would shock and jumpscare nearly anyone, considering it was often hard to tell if one was poisonous or not.
But the silhouette simply extended her arm, the bugs landing on the palm of her hand. Coming into the natural spotlight created by the moon, Drusi leaned toward the bugs, whispering as quietly as she could.
“Make sure she stays inside.”
The bugs instantly dispersed, taking guard positions all around the home. Some flew by the door. Others sat near the window, observing their prey, while others crawled through the gaps in the door, watching from inside.
Adjusting her sandals, Drusi made her way back down to the church. There was not a speck of light coming through the dark building. As she made her way toward the double wooden doors, the schoolteacher couldn’t help but smile at the freshly cut fields.
The large church doors creaked open, the metal hinges groaning with every bit of force put into the push. The desks and pews stayed exactly where they were. In fact, the entire building seemed frozen in time, except for one anomaly standing in the middle.
Her dark clothing helped her blend in with the environment. If someone were to catch a glimpse of her, they would no doubt mistake her for a hallucination. She stood on her side, staring through the far-right window near the end of the building. She stood straight, as if she were staring down the moon itself, challenging it to battle.
“You’re late.”
Her voice was quiet and emotionless, a grand contrast to Drusi’s usual warmth. The words were not spoken with anger or impatience, but with a cold certainty, as if time itself had simply been stated as a fact. Even the silence that followed seemed to bend around her voice, the empty church swallowing the sound before returning to stillness.
The mysterious woman slowly turned her body to face Drusi, the faint rustle of fabric echoing through the hollow building. A cold chill ran down Drusi’s spine the moment their eyes met, her breath catching in her throat for just a second.
Those purple eyes shone with an unnatural brightness in the moonlight, piercing through her as though they were searching her soul rather than simply looking at her.
She wore a long religious habit, with a veil keeping most of her hair in place and hidden as a sign of modesty. Her humble chest barely protruded through her clothing, allowing her eyes to take center stage.
Her hair was pitch black, just like the night. It was neither fully straight nor curly, sitting somewhere in the middle.
Around her neck was a silver piece of jewelry representing the religion she practiced, the Church of Celica. It was a metal pendant shaped like a young girl wrapped in crow’s feathers.
From an outsider’s perspective, she would be nothing but a creepy nun with little regard for others, but Drusi knew the person before her was far more capable and dangerous than most would expect.
“Sorry, I had to make sure my guest was asleep.” The cheerful tone she carried during the daytime was now gone, replaced with a stoic one. And yet, despite the intimidating nature of the nun, she spoke to her in a rather casual tone.
The nun nodded in approval of her excuse. Without wasting any more time, she got straight to the point.
Shaking her head, Drusi paced around the room. “My agents haven’t been able to catch her magical presence in Kala, so she most likely left the city after the attack.”
“It’s possible she’s in Atrila, but I can’t exactly check because of you-know-who.”
Satisfied with her answer, the nun nodded once again, not wasting any of her breath on pointless responses. She stared back at the moon momentarily as another thought slipped past her glistening lips.
“If she really is in Atrila, then we can wait for the Keptas meeting. Either she’ll ride with Viera, or she’ll be left alone at the capital. Whichever decision she chooses, it’ll be easy to isolate and secure her.”
“Sorry for making this much more difficult than it should be, Drusi. I didn’t expect my disciples to not recognize her.”
Sighing, Drusi waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. We couldn’t have known the cult was going to attack Kala anyway. They’re always doing things on their own, and their boss never seems interested in our politics.”
“What are you even planning to do with her anyway, besides taking her back to the capital?”
Although national politics, especially the kind the nun concerned herself with, was often something Drusi paid very little attention to, she would be lying if she claimed she had absolutely no interest in her plans.
And having provided such great help toward the nun’s goals, she thought she deserved at least a bit of information. After all, she was mostly doing her spy work as a favor rather than a paid commission.
“His Majesty wants to thoroughly discipline her. An heir needs to be born soon, and he intends to keep it in the family. I shouldn't exactly be telling you this, but he could use your help producing the next generation through your special skills.”
Annoyed, Drusi rolled her eyes. “Oh please, he needs to do one hundred times better than that to get my help. Tell him to come to this church and beg on his knees, then I’ll think about it.”
Her tone was unrestrained, clearly showing a sense of disdain toward the nun’s boss. If Drusi were anyone else, their head would have been disconnected from the rest of their body in the blink of an eye, but being around someone who feared nothing gave the nun a strange sense of comfort.
Having concluded their business talk, the nun tilted her head up slightly, sensing the presence of a decently strong magical vessel. It was no doubt the guest that Drusi had been talking about, but by now the schoolteacher would have taken action against “unwanted guests” a while ago.
During their previous meetings, it wouldn’t have been strange to see her walk into the church with a body or two.
“Well. Are you going to use her as another test subject?” she asked, returning her gaze to Drusi. Her question was straight to the point, just how Drusi liked it. In the schoolteacher’s mind, if she was asked a question with no fluff or filler, then she should answer in the same manner.
“No, not her.”
The nun raised her brows ever so slightly before coldly stating, “It’s not like you to take a liking to someone. I thought your research came first before anything else.”
Offended by her assumption, Drusi clapped back, “It’s not that I like her. But she’s a bit too special to waste just yet. She’s someone who needs to be marinated first before anything. It’s like killing and eating a premature cow rather than fattening it and letting it grow first.”
“What’s so special about her?” the nun asked.
“First off, she can use magic. Not just any magic like the rest of the world. While we were pulling weeds, she casually used Physical Strengthening.”
Darting her eyes around the room as if the answer might suddenly appear before her, she felt a rare sense of surprise creep in. All her life, she had never met anyone else capable of using the same arcane spells as her.
At least, not someone who could control them as naturally as she did. Questions flooded her mind one after another, yet she forced them down, restraining herself behind the composed image she always tried to maintain.
“I’m glad I finally got your interest. I haven’t seen you this rattled in a while.” Drusi smirked, the nun fixing her expression instantly.
“Continue.” She did not deny the schoolteacher’s claim, instead brushing it aside. Drusi returned to her stoic state as the most important information of the night slipped through her soft lips.
“More importantly, no, most importantly…”
The nun sharply exhaled, bracing herself for the incoming news. She furrowed her brows. Deep down, she knew why the person she called an ally would bother to bring this matter to her attention.
To her, the most valuable pieces of information that constantly kept her on edge were news regarding the political activities of the Emperor, and the other was any mention of the person she once, no, the person they both once called a friend.
“She knows Hana, like actually knows her..”
Instantly, the world seemed to screech to a halt. Time stopped and all sound was snuffed out as both Drusi and the nun stared at each other after their greatest enemy had been mentioned. To the sister, this was the biggest news she had heard all year.
Not only did a seemingly random stranger have the capability to casually wield arcane magic, but she also knew the Sword Saint, Hana Armenta.
“I know, right?” Drusi interrupted her chain of thought, breaking the concerned expression that had come across the nun’s face. Compared to her now, the cold and emotionless state she bore mere moments ago seemed like nothing but a façade.
“If we keep a close watch on her, then I don’t doubt that eventually she’ll lead Hana back to us.” It was a sound strategy. Keeping your friends close but your enemies closer was a classic saying that had spanned centuries.
“But even if she doesn’t…” Like a flick of a switch, Drusi’s entire demeanor changed completely, no longer stoic and definitely no longer cheerful. A sadistic smile curled across her face, her eyes widening with sheer ecstasy and confidence at the opportunity presented before her.
“Then we’ll torment her till the end of time, forcing Hana to strike her down. Her movements, her composure, it was all taught by her. I just know it.”
“Wouldn’t it be so satisfying to watch her fall deep into despair, crying and wailing as she’s forced to cut down her own student without mercy?”
She had little regard for the amount of noise she was making. She stood tall and mighty, like an unwavering tower against the wind. To mask the squeals, bugs all around the church chirped and buzzed as loudly as they could.
“You said you haven’t seen me this rattled in a while, but look at you,” the nun coldly stated.
Drusi inhaled sharply, drawing in all the air she had just exhaled at once, sending a sharp sting through her head. Nausea began to settle in her mind as the fatigue of a hard day’s work finally took effect all at once.
“Can you blame me? I think I might be getting wet just thinking about what we can do to Hana.” She went on without a single stutter in her words. “After all this time, I can finally sit back and watch as she squirms for mercy. I’ll make her pay for what she’s done to me, what she’s done to us.”
Swarms of flies, mosquitoes, and ground insects rallied around her, covering the breaching moonlight in a coating of black. Tiny red eyes all peered at their master, awaiting her command. The birthmark on her neck did not possess an ordinary color, instead muddied with a mixture of dark green and blood red.
The wooden floor of the platform burst open, a row of hands exploding from underneath. Corpses crawled out from their version of hell, finally being summoned at the call of their master.
Their skin was rotten, exuding a vile ooze that would make anyone in the vicinity throw up endless lumps of bile. Risen from the dead. No, to claim that they were risen would imply they still had life.
But in fact, these corpses had no will of their own and no desire. Drusi made sure to strip them all of such freedom. Instead, these corpses were being puppeteered by the armies of insects crawling underneath their skin.
The bugs all worked in tandem to control the corpses, and Drusi acted as the hivemind for them, giving her ultimate control and making her the greatest puppetmaster. The nun stood unfazed as the hordes of dead surrounded her.
She knew that the creatures before her posed zero threat and were instead being called forth thanks to Drusi’s sudden burst of excitement. Had the puppetmaster decided this to be Saya’s fate, she would have been another body added to the army.
From a look at the pieces of clothing that still clung to their bodies, it was clear that these victims were also travelers. Some had wandered simply for the sake of wandering, while others had been brought by Redus.
The traveling merchant merely wished to help lone travelers, but every time he brought them to the village of Hunfor, they would mysteriously vanish in the night, with Drusi claiming that they had left early in the morning.
Drusi’s magical gears twisted and turned, magical energy flowing inside her body in unnatural ways. The color of her energy matched that of blood, her soul gleaming the color of muddied waters.
While the nun stood gracefully with unmistakable beauty, the person before her had turned into something more akin to a parody of a human, a written horror story that had come to life.
Drusi’s brown eyes sank into a deep, uneasy dark yellow. If Saya’s Soul Sight represented life and its value, hers represented corruption and an admiration for life.
“But what if she finds out and decides to fight back?” the nun asked.
There was not a shred of discomfort as Drusi replied with her usual confidence, this time masked by the miasma of sadistic joy.
“Even you know that’s a fight that’s impossible for anyone to win.”
“You can beat Hana. Surely you can make light work of some mage trained by her, right?”
She raised her arm, lifting her head toward the ceiling above.
Like a nation hailing their queen, the insects swarmed around the two figures standing in the middle of the church, creating a pitch-black tornado composed of nasty, blood-sucking flies and mosquitoes.
Hordes of small centipedes and spiders crawled along her legs, encasing her entire body like fresh armor. They slipped beneath the folds of her clothing and across her skin, weaving together in restless layers as if stitching a living shell around her.
Their tiny legs clicked softly against one another, forming a constant, chittering hum that blended with the storm of wings circling above.
“You always were too over the top,” the nun claimed, subtly letting out an exasperated exhale.
“Druscilla.”
Though not widely known due to their obscurity, two entities kept Velion afloat. They were regarded as the pride and joy of the Empire. One was capable of executing covert missions without a single detection thanks to her special technique, while the other was the greatest martial artist in the world, her skills rivaling that of Hana Armenta’s swordsmanship.
These two individuals were Isolde Thorleye, the Nightveil Nun, and Druscilla Vemicara, the Centipede Maiden.
In many ways, Saya was lucky to have mentioned her connection with the Sword Saint. Had she simply been another passerby, there would have been an extremely slim chance she would have been left alive, especially when she slept so soundly.
If she had been awake and turned on her Soul Sight, she would have most definitely seen nearly five mirages showcasing her death.
But perhaps mentioning the Sword Saint had doomed her far more, now being viewed as cattle to be raised and slaughtered slowly but surely. If she had known the names of the people just within her grasp, her legs would have run on their own for fear of her life.
In Atrila, a certain red-haired knight jolted awake in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as if her life depended on it. Her heartbeat raced faster than a horse’s gallop, with only time helping her settle down. She knew something was wrong, but couldn’t point out what or why.