Seeing that Selphira's sobbing had finally begun to subside, Somaria instantly grabbed her shoulders. Her voice was sharp, vibrating with a frantic edge.
"Selphira! What happened?! Why... why are Father and Mother... why are they like this?"
Selphira's eyes were bloodshot, tears continuing to trace tracks down her cheeks. Her words came in broken, disjointed gasps.
"I... I don't know... Father hit me... I—I was so angry... I don't know why he became like that..." Her voice grew increasingly chaotic, as if she couldn't even organize the memories of what had just transpired. "Then... I told Mother to be quiet... and then Mother just..."
Somaria felt as if her mind had been split open by a bolt of lightning. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, her voice beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
"Are you saying..." She stared intensely at her younger sister, her eyes wide with a horrific, burgeoning realization. "You... you did this?"
"I... I..." Selphira's lips quivered, but she couldn't form a complete sentence.
Somaria's breathing became rapid, shallow, as if she were suffocating. "So... there was no one else here?"
Choking on her sobs, Selphira gave a small, slow nod.
In that instant, Somaria felt as if a branding iron had been driven through her chest. The accumulated fear, grief, and confusion finally reached a breaking point.
"So, you killed Father and Mother?!" she roared, losing all control.
The scream shattered the deathly silence of the house like a thunderclap, and it seemed to finally jolt Selphira out of her state of confusion. Selphira stared blankly at her older sister.
In the next moment, Somaria lunged forward, grabbing Selphira's arms so tightly her fingers nearly sank into the flesh. She fought to suppress her tears, her voice low and ragged. "It was you... you killed them?"
However, Selphira didn't seem to feel the pain at all.
On the contrary—the moment she heard the word "killed," a bizarre, dark glimmer slowly drifted through the depths of her eyes. The tears that had been falling continuously suddenly stopped.
Then, she slowly revealed a smile. It was a smile that was familiar, yet so alien it made the blood run cold. It remained sweet, but it was draped in a chilling shadow.
"Sister, what are you talking about?" she asked softly, her tone carrying a hint of innocent curiosity. "Didn't I tell you a long time ago...?"
She tilted her head slightly, giving a light, airy laugh. "Death... is nothing more than a process."
Somaria's heart plummeted. The face before her was undeniably her sister's, but the eyes had suddenly become distant and unrecognizable.
Gasping for air, Somaria instinctively let go and staggered back two steps.
Selphira, however, lowered her head to gaze quietly at the corpses on the floor. As if contemplating a matter of great importance, she began to murmur to herself in a low whisper:
"That's right... I just need to repair the vessels, then put the souls back inside. Death... is just a phenomenon where the soul temporarily leaves the body..."
As her words fell, she lightly waved her hand.
Vrrrrm—
A pitch-black magic circle unfurled abruptly in mid-air. Complex, eerie runes spread like veins, appearing to connect to some dark, abyssal dimension.
As if rummaging through everyday supplies, Selphira murmured softly while reaching her hand into that void of darkness.
"Hmm... things needed to repair a body..."
"Dragon-beard grass..."
"Liver of a fire-rat..."
"Ah, right, and moonbeam flowers..."
Following her words, one bizarre material after another was pulled from the darkness. Spectral herbs emitting a ghostly glow, twitching fragments of flesh, crystals and alchemical fluids of unnatural colors... a series of chilling components fell to the floor, piling into a chaotic and grotesque display.
Somaria watched it all blankly, her mind a tangled mess of confusion. The person before her was her only remaining kin—yet she was also the one who had personally killed their parents.
Should she protect Selphira? Or should she avenge her parents?
However—as she watched Selphira meticulously stitch together those materials with the mangled remains, refining and smelting them to piece back the broken bodies—a faint, fragile glimmer of hope involuntarily sprouted in the depths of Somaria's heart.
Perhaps...
If Selphira truly could do it. If their parents truly woke up again—that would be the best possible outcome.
Before long, the ravaged bodies of their father and mother were miraculously restored. The parts that had been pierced and incinerated now showed no trace of trauma. Skin, flesh, and bone were all perfectly whole, as if the preceding tragedy had never occurred.
Selphira slowly spread her hands. With the tear stains still wet on her face, her voice turned low and ethereal as she began a slow, haunting chant:
"Heed my voice, O Abyss of Void.O severed souls, wander no more;O abandoned vessels, wither no more.With shadows as my candle, and wailing as my guide—I offer this flesh as sacrifice, calling the sleepers to return.Souls—Return.Flesh—Awaken.The Gate of the Dead, open unto me;The boundary of life and death, collapse here and now.In my name—Selphira,I command the spirits entombed in night to dwell once more within the flesh!"
As the final syllable of the incantation fell—the air in the entire house seemed to freeze instantly.
An icy wind seeped in from all directions. The candlelight flickered violently, and the shadows on the walls stretched into distorted, elongated shapes. A pale grey mist slowly drifted up from around the corpses.
Simultaneously, low whispers began to leak from the depths of the void, sounding like countless invisible ghosts murmuring in the dark, or like something being forcibly dragged back from the beyond.
Somaria felt a chill through her entire body and instinctively took a half-step back.
A moment later—the previously motionless bodies of her father and mother slowly began to move. They sat up, inch by inch. Then, their eyes slowly opened.
Those eyes were still clearly defined, yet they were as hollow as empty pits, devoid of any luster—as if the most vital essence from the depths of the soul had been lost.
"It worked!"
A flash of ecstatic joy lit up Selphira's eyes, and she immediately threw herself forward.
Somaria rushed over almost simultaneously, gripping her parents' hands with a desperate strength. Her voice trembled so violently she could barely form words. "Father! Mother!"
However—
Though the hands still possessed body heat, there was no response. Their hearts beat, and their lungs drew breath, yet they stood frozen like mindless puppets, appearing as nothing more than dolls draped in human skin.
Somaria's voice began to waver. "Sel... Selphira... I thought you said it worked? Why... why aren't they responding?"
Selphira leaned in close to her parents, observing them for a long time with a pensive expression. "The souls have indeed returned, and the vessels show signs of life... hmm..."
Somaria couldn't care about the theory; she shook her parents' hands frantically. "Father! Mother! It's me, Somaria... please... answer me..."
Suddenly, as if a missing puzzle piece had clicked into place, a brilliant light flashed in Selphira's eyes.
"Ah! I understand now!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. "When the soul leaves the body, it exists in a damaged state. But now that the flesh has been perfectly repaired, the forms of the soul and the body don't perfectly correspond—that's why the fusion is incomplete!"
Somaria pressed her for an answer, her voice bordering on a sob. "Then... do you mean they can never recover?"
"Of course not."
Selphira wore her usual childish smile, her tone as relaxed as if she were explaining the most mundane detail. "The soul will slowly adapt to the changes in the flesh. Once both sides are perfectly aligned, they'll return to exactly how they were when they were healthy."
Somaria froze, caught between a spark of hope and instinctive terror. "How... how long will that take?"
Selphira counted seriously on her fingers, then answered innocently, "For Mother, about fifty years should be enough. For Father... maybe around two hundred years."
"What!?" Somaria's pupils contracted sharply.
But Selphira continued, as if comforting her sister with a playful grin. "Don't worry! As long as your life magic gets a bit stronger and you live for over a thousand years with me, waiting for them to recover won't be a problem at all."
She paused, then added with a boastful smile, "Besides, it's not like they have no reaction at all. Look—"
She turned and whispered softly, "Father, pat my head."
In the next instant, the "Father's" body moved slowly. He walked mechanically toward Selphira, stiffly raised his hand, and placed it gently atop her head.
"Mother, give me a hug."
The "Mother" also took slow, clumsy steps forward, opening her arms in a jagged motion to pull Selphira into an embrace. The movements were slow and empty—yet they still maintained the outward shape of a "Mother."
Selphira snuggled into that cold, stiff embrace, a smile of pure contentment and relief spreading across her face. "See? They still love me just as much as before."
"What... what have you done!?"
Somaria finally snapped. Her voice was so strained it sounded as if her throat were tearing.
Selphira blinked, tilting her head to look at her sister. Her gaze remained hauntingly innocent. "Sister... what's wrong?"
Somaria's fists were clenched so tight her nails drew blood from her palms. Her entire body shook. "You..." She looked at the two figures that no longer resembled "people," and deep, soul-shaking terror finally took root in her eyes. "You actually turned Father and Mother... into puppets!!"
Hearing the word "puppets," Selphira paused for a moment. Then, she looked away, her expression shifting to one of mild annoyance, as if she were dealing with a child throwing a senseless tantrum.
"Hmph... with your level of magical knowledge, you couldn't possibly understand, could you?" Her tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction and weary resignation. "Whatever."
With that, she turned back around. Her youthful voice remained sweet and light, as if everything in the world was exactly as it should be.
"Father, Mother, let's go call the others back." She gave a happy little laugh. "Everyone loves me so much... I'm sure they'll understand too."
The bodies of the "Father" and "Mother" twitched slightly. Then, the two hollow, rigid forms nodded slowly. Like marionettes guided by invisible silk threads, they followed step-by-step behind Selphira, walking toward the exit.
The door clicked shut.
Inside the house, a sudden, heavy silence fell.
Somaria felt the last of her strength leave her. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed heavily onto the cold floor. The tears would not stop. She gripped her skirt so hard her knuckles turned white, her chest aching with a pain so sharp it felt like her heart was being physically shredded.
The world had utterly collapsed in this single moment.
The family she once knew, the warmth, the sense of security... all of it had transformed into this chilling, deathly stillness. All that remained was a void of loneliness that could never be filled.
Somaria kept her head low, her shoulders heaving. She didn't even dare to recall the image of those hollow, lifeless eyes. In the deepest depths of her heart, a desperate voice screamed silently:
Selphira...Are you still my sister...Or are you a monster that will swallow everything?
Pheros was hurrying from the South Gate toward the center of the village. The massive pillar of fire that had torn through the night sky earlier weighed on his mind like a leaden stone of unease. He had to confirm exactly what had happened.
However, halfway there, he suddenly spotted a small figure walking slowly toward him.
It was Selphira.
Pheros felt his chest tighten. Still, unwilling to let a child sense his alarm, he forced a smile and slowed his pace.
"Selphira? What are you doing out here?"
He tried his best to keep his tone as gentle as it always was.
"Didn't we agree? The village is a bit dangerous right now. All the children are supposed to stay safely at home."
Selphira looked up, offering her usual, sugar-sweet smile. "Teacher Pheros, I was actually just heading out to find everyone."
Pheros felt a flicker of doubt, but he maintained his lighthearted demeanor. "Oh? Is there something special going on?" As he spoke, he surreptitiously scanned the surroundings. "The village is quite busy dealing with some trouble at the moment. Once things settle down, I promise I'll help you gather everyone, alright?"
But Selphira shook her head softly. Within those beautiful eyes, an inexplicable, unsettling obsession began to surface.
"No," she said quietly. "I must call everyone together now."
The smile on Pheros's face stiffened for a fraction of a second. An indescribable chill began to crawl slowly up his spine. He remained silent for a moment before testing the waters.
"By the way... Selphira, where are your father and mother? Shouldn't they be at home resting?"
Selphira let out a soft laugh. "Them? They're on their way here." She tilted her head, her tone innocent. "They're just walking a little slowly."
"I see," Pheros replied reflexively, though he was already planning to hand Selphira over to them and escort her back immediately.
In the next heartbeat, Selphira suddenly raised her hand, pointing happily toward the path ahead.
"Ah, they've arrived."
Pheros turned his gaze in the direction she was pointing. In an instant, the color drained from his face, leaving it deathly pale.
Through the shadows of the night, two figures were approaching, step by mechanical step. Their gait was stiff and bizarre. Their eyes were hollow pits, devoid of even a spark of life. Even through the dim moonlight, he recognized them instantly—these were Selphira's "Father" and "Mother."
Pheros felt the skin on his scalp crawl. He whipped his head back toward Selphira, his eyes no longer filled with confusion, but with an irrepressible horror and fury.
He instinctively recoiled a step, snapping his staff upward.
"Selphira!!" For the first time, his voice was laced with pure terror. "What in the world have you done!?"
Yet Selphira remained unchanged, a picture of guileless innocence. "Nothing much," she said with a smile. "Father and Mother are just feeling a little unwell."
She blinked, her tone almost expectant. "Teacher, could you help me call everyone back now?"
Pheros's heart sank. A powerful sense of crisis overrode all hesitation. The mana within him erupted instinctively, and his staff flared with a blinding, crimson radiance!
"Just what... are you trying to do!?"
Selphira opened her mouth to speak, but Pheros didn't give her another second.
"Crimson Pierce!"
With the roar of the incantation, his staff unleashed a beam of searing red light, shooting straight for Selphira!
BOOM!!
The flare of fire instantly swallowed her silhouette.
Seeing the attack strike true, Pheros felt his nerves—stretched to their absolute limit—finally offer a flicker of relief.
However, in the next heartbeat—
A sudden, violent chill raced up his spine. Cold sweat drenched his robes in an instant. As the firelight dissipated, Selphira stood in the exact same spot, completely unharmed. Not even the hem of her dress had been singed.
Within those crimson-tinted eyes, a faint, phantom-like trace of playfulness began to surface. She tilted her head slightly, her voice remaining crisp and sweet, yet hollow enough to make one's blood run cold.
"Teacher Pheros... didn't you teach me this yourself?"
Her lips curled upward slowly.
"In Mental Magic, if one's mental strength is weaker than the opponent's—"
She paused, the smile widening.
"—it becomes completely ineffective."
Pheros's pupils contracted sharply. Only in this moment did he realize the truth: the image he had seen of his attack "hitting" was nothing more than an illusion.
Selphira blinked, whispering in a tone that sounded almost regretful. "It seems... Teacher is broken too."
The moment the words left her lips—
Darkness surged.
Pheros felt his vision go black. Immediately after, an icy, bone-piercing pain exploded from the center of his forehead. His body froze.
When he managed to look down, he finally saw it: a pitch-black spike manifested from pure shadow had transfixed his body. Blood began to trickle down from his brow.
The black spike had extended directly from the shadow beneath Selphira's feet.
Pheros opened his mouth, but he couldn't force out a single coherent word. Life was draining out of him with terrifying speed.
Selphira lowered her head, gazing at him in silence. The smile on her face remained sweet and innocent, yet it was so grotesque it was hair-raising.
"Don't worry, Teacher..." she said softly. "I will... fix you."
Beneath the shroud of night, the dense forest echoed with the constant whistling of projectiles. Arrows occasionally sliced through the wind, thudding heavily into tree trunks.
Daetherin held her breath, her expression taut as she looked toward the woman beside her—a figure with snow-white hair, yet a face that remained unnervingly young.
"Village Chief."
She lowered her voice, though she could not hide the mounting anxiety within it. "Ever since that pillar of fire rose, the enemy has been pushing closer and closer to this perimeter." She tightened her grip on her bow. "Some of our sisters have already been struck by their arrows... I am truly worried about the village."
The white-haired woman remained silent for a long moment. Finally, she lifted her head, looking through the depths of the night toward the village hidden behind the treeline. Her voice remained gentle, yet it carried the steady, resolute power of a mother:
"I worry as well."
"Our families are there. Our children. Everything we have fought so desperately to protect." She closed her eyes briefly. "If something truly happened, those left behind would have signaled us."
However—
No sooner had the words left her lips.
BOOM!
A blue firework, shaped like the wings of a butterfly, suddenly exploded against the night sky.
The eerie blue radiance blossomed in the dark like a silent, desperate cry. The Village Chief's expression shifted instantly, her heart sinking into the depths of her chest.
"No!" She stood up abruptly. "That is the emergency signal for a direct attack on the village!"
She whipped her head around, her voice dropping into a low, commanding rasp. " Daetherin, Novelan! The two of you stay behind. Hold the enemy back at all costs! Even if you must trade your lives for it, you must buy the village time!"
"Understood!" Daetherin nodded without a second's hesitation, her eyes flashing with a resolute light. "Chief, please... return safely!"
Meanwhile, at the temporary military encampment on the outskirts of the forest.
A soldier stumbled into the camp, practically collapsing at Evan's feet. His voice was thick with terror. "Reporting to the Third Prince!" He gasped for air, kneeling in the dirt. "Our scouts were attacked while approaching the area of the light pillar! The enemy has laid countless traps and is utilizing bizarre weaponry—we are already sustaining heavy casualties!"
The soldier's voice trembled. "I implore Your Highness to withdraw immediately! There is a high probability the enemy will strike the camp under the cover of night!"
Evan's brow furrowed. The image of Selphira instinctively flickered through his mind.
"An attack..." he murmured. "Is it... her village?"
Countless thoughts collided in his mind. If they are mere villagers, why would they initiate an attack on the Royal Army?Could they be a hidden faction of bandits?If I retreat now, will I lose this chance for a crowning achievement?But if I advance... will Selphira hate me?
The conflicting emotions cut through him like blades. Ultimately, a cold, sharp resolve settled in the depths of Evan's eyes. He drew his longsword, his voice echoing through the camp with newfound iron.
"All units, advance!"
The command rang out, powerful and unyielding. "Anyone who dares attack the Royal Army is a bandit! Capture those you can; but if they cannot be controlled—" He looked out into the darkness. "Kill them all."
He paused, then added a low, stern postscript: "But remember—no one is to lay a finger on Selphira!"
As he spoke, he comforted himself with a silent lie: I cannot let this opportunity slip away. I will explain everything to her later... once she realizes her village was harboring criminals, she will surely understand.
His silver armor glinted coldly in the firelight. Sword in hand, Evan stood at the vanguard, leading his army into the black heart of the forest. The thundering of hooves shook the earth; the scent of bloodlust began to spread.
On the other side—driven by the singular belief of protecting her kin—the Village Chief was leading her witches in a frantic, desperate dash back home.
This night. One side marched for glory and ambition. The other raced for family and homeland. Two irreconcilable wills had finally begun their inevitable, violent collision.