Getting ready, Manas?

Sip… sip…

The quiet hum of the restaurant was accompanied by the steady sound of drinking, reverberating softly through the space.

Seraniti sat slumped in her chair, nursing her third cup of Temne, a drink that had immediately appealed to her taste buds. It was one of the few things in this town that wasn't trying to kill her—aside from the price.

Across from her, Zora sipped on warm coffee, her tail flicking idly against the leg of the table.

Alongside it, she had something new—something she had discovered only moments ago.

Chicken Kyiv.

She had already decided she liked it.

And, knowing Zora, that meant it was now going to be added to every single dish she cooked moving forward.

Seraniti exhaled heavily, slumping further into her seat as the price flashed across her bracelet on her wrist.

"It'd be much better if the prices weren't killing me."

Eighty.

Fucking eighty.

Just for one.

She didn't need a breakdown of why it was so damn expensive—scarcity, supply chain issues, war.

All the obvious reasons.

Didn't mean she had to like it.

At least they had already eaten and paid, so there was no reason to stick around longer than necessary. They had thirty minutes of nothing but silence and drinks—a rare moment where no one was dying, yelling, or trying to kill them.

But it was time to go.

"Let's go, Zora."

Seraniti stretched slightly before rising from her seat.

"We've been here too long, and I don't know how much longer the supplies will last."

Zora hummed in response, lifting her cup for one last sip before setting it down with a soft clink.

She exhaled.

"Shame. It was nice here."

And with that, they stepped out into the town once more then—slipping back into the shadows with idle chatter.

Until—

"Zora, how much more can you carry?"

Seraniti's voice cut through the silence, her gaze flickering somewhere distant as the street around them softened into a gentle blur.

Zora didn't pause, her voice slipping in from everywhere and nowhere, laced with mild curiosity. "Around fifteen by fifteen. Why?"

Seraniti hesitated, looking away as she sweated—just a bit.

"...I bought a... c...cle..."

Zora's ears twitched. "Huh? Speak up, I can't hear you."

Seraniti pursed her lips before giving up entirely, typing something on the screen that flickered into existence from her bracelet.

A second later, Zora let out a long, exaggerated sigh as the message registered.

"Mashaa, you'll go broke at this rate," She grumbled. Then—after a brief pause—she added with very clear amusement, "Fine... but we'll do the thing since you lost that bet. Heh."

Seraniti groaned, already regretting the thing that Zora was undoubtedly way too excited about.

Soon enough, they reached their intended destination—a well-maintained building, noticeably secured, surrounded by armed guards keeping a close eye on anyone who got too close.

The moment they popped out of the shadows, weapons were drawn—held into place, hands snapping to holsters as a dozen sets of eyes locked onto them in immediate suspicion.

A heartbeat passed.

"The fuck y'all want?"

An Ursus guard spoke first, his tone flat, but his grip steady on his ΜΙСΛ, the front aimed just slightly lower than center mass. Not exactly threatening—but not friendly either.

Seraniti cleared her throat, lifting her hands slightly before speaking.

"Ĉiela said to come here. See?"

For just a second, her eyes glowed as the confirmation notice was sent.

The Ursus blinked as the data flashed in his vision. His expression remained unreadable, but after a moment, he exhaled through his nose before lowering his gun, signaling the others to do the same.

"You're lucky then," He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "We got more stock last night. Come in. You have three boxes—each lasts about a month for a trio."

With a casual flick of his head, he gestured toward the entrance as the doors slid open with a hiss.

They walked inside silently, the tension from earlier dissipating into something less hostile, but not quite welcoming.

The moment Seraniti stepped through the door—

A deep, throbbing pain slammed into her skull.

Her breath hitched slightly as she grabbed her forehead, her vision swimming for a split second.

Damn headache…

A sharp warmth pressed against her shoulder—Zora's hand, steady, grounding.

Her feline companion peered up at her, concern flickering in her eyes as she studied Seraniti's expression.

Seraniti sighed—the third time in the last hour—as the pulsing in her head slowly dulled to something manageable.

These fantasies were mild. But there were so many of them.

She exhaled sharply before finally looking around.

The guard who had let them in had stopped just ahead, turning slightly as he addressed them.

"There are two floors. Bottom one's food and all that good shit," He explained, gesturing lazily. "Second floor is for anything weapon. Here."

A Feline worker walked over, setting three empty boxes on the ground before the Ursus stepped away, seemingly done with them.

The Feline, uninterested in anything beyond his immediate task, simply muttered, "Take what you need. Doesn't matter to me."

It was clear that he meant it, too.

His fantasy—hovering behind him like an ever-present shadow—had a sword buried straight through his neck.

An ugly fucking fantasy.

But in Seraniti's standards?

It looked pretty damn cool if not mild in design.

Zora flicked her fingers, her shadows pooling together like ink spilling across the floor. The darkness coagulated, shifting into small, animated figures, each one no taller than a foot, their round, shadowy hands reaching out to grab the empty boxes.

With precise movements, the little shadow servants lifted the crates, their tiny, almost childlike heads tilting in acknowledgment as they waited for further instruction.

Zora grinned, pleased with herself.

Seraniti barely spared them a glance before Zora grabbed her hand, pulling her along toward the different food sections, section by section—not giving her a chance to wander off.

She didn't drag her, but it was close.

"Mashaa, you better appreciate this. We are shopping properly."

Seraniti huffed, looking away.

"Yeah, yeah."

Meats first—various cuts, some familiar, others distinctly foreign, wrapped in airtight preservation sleeves marked with estimated shelf-life labels. They picked out several slabs of red and white meats, enough to last them comfortably for weeks.

Then vegetables—crisp, well-kept despite the state of the town. Fresh produce was expensive, but considering the war, it was a damn miracle that any of this was still available.

Eventually, they filled up two full boxes, their little servants carrying them obediently, trailing behind them like the trains from old.

Seraniti exhaled, crossing her arms.

"You're cooking tonight, Zora."

Zora paused, looking at her slowly, ears twitching upward as a mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Ehhhh…"

She groaned in mock frustration, her tail flicking dramatically behind her.

Seraniti rolled her eyes before muttering—"Just because I have to do the thing doesn't mean I'm gonna just stand around."

Zora let out an exaggerated sigh, but the gleam in her eyes said otherwise.

They continued up the second floor, the little train of shadow-boxes following in perfect synchronization, their stubby forms moving with surprising discipline.

The second floor was busier, the atmosphere noticeably heavier.

People moved with purpose, picking up their own supplies, some of them clearly worn down from the fighting.

Weapons lined the reinforced racks—firearms, ammunition, explosives, swords, and different ΜΙСΛ's all neatly categorized.

Seraniti scanned the shelves, fingers lightly brushing over some of the stock before grabbing a few smokies—compact smoke dispersers, useful for creating cover in tight situations.

Then shrapnel grenades—dirty but effective.

Zora grabbed a few extra mags, pre-loaded for ease of use, before eyeing something else—a small, knife, balanced for stealth. She tested the weight in her palm, flipping it twice before nodding in satisfaction and tucking it away.

Seraniti, meanwhile, hesitated in front of a rifle rack.

She wasn't fond of using rifles. They were too restrictive.

They limited her movements.

But…

Better safe than sorry.

With mild reluctance, she grabbed one, checking its weight before sliding a few extra magazines into her box.

She'd deal with it later.

For now, they had everything they needed.

The little servants pulled the boxes into the darkness, making a dramatic show of it—pretending to be swallowed whole, their stubby arms flailing as they vanished with a playful plop.

Zora, however, was not done.

With a quick motion, she stuffed something else into the last box, her grin turning downright lewd, mischievous and very suspect.

Seraniti felt an immediate chill run down her spine.

She knew that look.

"Zora…" She muttered, looking around as unease crawled up her back.

She didn't get to finish.

Because in the next second, she was yanked forward, straight into the arms of a very happy knight.

"Wai—!"

Zora however did not wait.

And just like that, they disappeared into the shadows, the streets becoming a blur of movement, warping in and out of existence as they flickered between dark spaces.

Not even a few minutes later—

Seraniti zoomed past Aaliya, barely acknowledging her as the elevator doors slid open wide in front of them.

Aaliya, sitting comfortably at her desk, arched a brow before resting her chin on her hand.

"You're not going to greet me?" she asked, voice dripping with fake sadness.

The only response she got was a small, inky limb—popping up from the shadows beside her, placing a portion of food on the counter before vanishing just as quickly.

Aaliya blinked.

Then, she smiled, picking up the offered food. "I'll take it."

The moment they reached their floor, they reappeared inside their room, the air still charged with the lingering potential of their quick escape or in this case—entrance.

"Zora! Hold up! Zora?… Wait—"

Seraniti took a cautious step back.

Something was wrong.

Zora was giggling—her tail flicking in dangerous delight, her hazel eyes glowing with an obnoxious amount of amusement.

And in her hands—

Seraniti's stomach dropped.

No. It can't be real!

No, no, no, no!

A dress.

A maid dress.

And not even the respectable kind—no, this one was made with pure menace in mind.

Seraniti's entire body seized with horror, her muscles tensing as every single one of her instincts screamed at her to RUN.

"Zora—let's talk about this—"

Too late.

Zora lunged—and Seraniti bolted.

The chase was immediate, the room filled with misery as Seraniti dodged, twisted, rolled—barely evading the grasping shadows as they coiled toward her, reaching like hands.

Her breath hitched, her legs burning, her survival instincts going into overdrive.

But Zora was laughing too much to be stopped.

And in the next moment—

Seraniti was caught.

A sharp yank, a twist of her wrist, and her vision spun as she was dragged upstairs, her desperate struggles completely useless against Zora's grip.

"No—! Wait—Zora, I swear to all perseveres, if you—"

Her words died the second she hit the bed.

Clothes? Gone.

Seraniti let out a silent scream, her entire spirit collapsing in absolute defeat.

Zora, grinning ear to ear, held up the dress with a predatory gleam.

"Mashaa~," She purred with a not so nice tone, ears twitching, "let's get you...changed!"

Seraniti's fingers dug into the sheets, her gray eyes filled with the purest form of betrayal.

And then—

In a single second—

She was wearing it.

Instantly. No transition. No escape.

It was done.

Seraniti froze, her entire body locking up as cold horror settled into her bones.

She covered herself as best she could, her dignity shattered, her pride obliterated, as Zora tackled her further onto the bed—

And did unspeakable things to her.

Some time later—Seraniti, facedown in the pillow, let out the longest, most weary sigh of her life.

"I hate you."

Zora, resting her cheek on Seraniti's very exposed shoulder, simply grinned.

"I love you too, Mashaa~."

Zora's voice was sickeningly sweet, her tail flicking in lazy satisfaction as she clung to Seraniti like a content feline.

Seraniti, face buried in the pillow, refused to acknowledge life.

This was her life now.

Eventually, though, the warmth of the moment settled.

She would have preferred to use this time to prepare—to get ready for whatever was coming next. But relaxing wasn't a terrible idea either.

Not when they had no clue how long the quiet would last.

They spent the last twenty minutes taking a shower, the hot water washing away the lingering exhaustion.

And then, once they were clean and refreshed, they headed out—

Back to the mayor and whatever bullshit there was but not before grabbing the thing Seraniti bought on impulse.

Soon enough, they reached the building's front entrance, the familiar sight of guards stationed at their posts. The moment Seraniti and Zora stepped out of the shadows, the guards tensed, but only for a second—one of them giving a small nod before signaling for the door to be opened.

As the doors swung inward, the interior of the building looked entirely different.

What was once a normal, almost modest space had been completely transformed into something more akin to a makeshift headquarters—the floors littered with scattered equipment, hastily set-up workstations, and ongoing repairs.

Half-built barriers lined the walls, exposed metal and wiring marking rapid attempts at reinforcement.

"Renovated real quick, huh?"

Seraniti muttered the words more to herself than anyone in particular. Near the entrance, a floating sign caught her eye.

FOUR FLOORS ONLY.

"Guess they had to cram everything in between them."

Zora, standing beside her, gave a small shrug, her tail flicking lightly against her calf.

"Better than working in ruins, I guess."

Seraniti didn't argue.

Instead, she lifted her wrist, her bracelet flickering to life as she typed out a quick message to Ĉiela.

"I'm here. Now what?"

Not even a second later, she received a reply—

Second floor. Simple and direct.

With a sigh, she shut the screen and turned toward Zora, motioning with her head.

They ascended, step after step, making their way up on foot—the elevator, of course, still in use.

The sound of chatter gradually grew louder with each floor, voices overlapping, fragmented orders being given, conversations spilling into the hallways.

Then, as they pushed open the door to the second floor—

They stepped into a war room of sorts.

The mayor and Ĉiela were already inside, along with several familiar faces—

The Rebbah girl from earlier.

Jud and the Perro.

The mayor sat at a cluttered workstation, going through several documents displayed on a tablet, his assistant beside him, quietly sorting through something.

Before Seraniti could announce herself, a voice cut through the room—

"Made it, huh, little girl."

Seraniti's gaze snapped toward the Rebbah girl.

And then—she noticed it.

Was this a girl or a woman?

Her stature was small, youthful even, but her expression and the way she held the cigarette between her fingers—

It didn't match at all.

"Cough."

"Meet your new team lead…" Ĉiela exhaled, rubbing the back of her tail that flicked. "Inna, meet Seraniti—or something like that." She gave a small nod, her voice flat with the kind of forced politeness that came with the situation.

Inna barely reacted beyond a sluggish, half-hearted salute, her expression unreadable.

Seraniti tilted her head slightly, her gaze flicking between them. "What's going on here?"

Before anyone else could answer, Inna took the lead. "Well, my dear new caster," She said, her tone laced with dry amusement. "We leave in a week for Pryat. We need to bring supplies from there back to here."

Seraniti blinked once, unimpressed. "And why should I care?"

The mayor sighed, already looking like he regretted this conversation. "To put it bluntly? We're paying you." His gaze was steady, scrutinizing. "Neither of us trust each other, and I'd rather keep an eye on you."

No one here was stupid enough to trust blindly. Just because things were pleasant now didn't mean anyone was naive enough to drop their guard. Everyone had a face they kept hidden—Seraniti included.

"Alright, enough of this mood," The mayor muttered, waving a hand. "What matters is that your team consists of twenty seven people, split into three squads. Inna leads."

"Little girl," Inna added, taking a slow drag of her cigarette before exhaling. "This town's got about five thousand people to defend it. We're one of five teams that will bring the supplies."

She flicked the ash off to the side, eyes steady as they met Seraniti's.

"So don't fuck it up, yeah?"

Seraniti exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. Inna, unfazed, snapped her fingers. A screen flickered to life, projecting a route that stretched toward an actual city.

"It'll take a couple of days to get there," She said, tapping at the air. "And since we don't have vehicles, we'll be bringing some back from Pryat while we're at it."

Jud stepped forward, pointing at a section of the map. It zoomed in, revealing a mess of terrain that looked less than ideal. "You were supposed to leave tomorrow, but as you can see…" He sighed, tilting his head. "While they're not blasting shit at us, they're still making it a pain in the ass. And let's be real—no caster fights worth a damn on an empty stomach."

He wasn't wrong. No army ran without food, and no settlement survived without supplies. Kjera Ind. supplied half the shit most governments needed, and in return, those same governments tended to look the other way.

The Perro, who had been rubbing his face in frustration, finally spoke. "Since you're hauling back essentials, they'll come after you. If they find you, they'll take what they can. If they can't take it—" He rolled his shoulders as he did a cutting gesture across his neck. "They'll just take you out instead."

Zora, ever the nonchalant one, dropped into an empty chair with a soft thump, her tail flicking lazily behind her. "So, do we need to bring anything specific, or is this a figure it out yourself kind of deal?"

Inna didn't miss a beat. "Bring your own food, something to sleep on, and use some goddamn common sense. You'll meet the rest of the team when it's time to go."

Inna paused before exhaling loudly, her breath dragging out in an exaggerated huff. "Hahhh… Here, little girl."

She flicked her fingers, and Seraniti's vision was immediately taken over by a file transfer notification.

"It's some notes I've put together from my battles—on the team too. I'd rather not have your half-dead ass collapsing on me while I'm trying to sleep."

Seraniti narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing as the file registered.

"Take the next few days to get ready. Or do whatever it is you kids waste time on." Inna stretched, then made her way toward the door, giving a lazy wave over her shoulder. "You know where to find me if something goes wrong."

She left without another word.

Seraniti frowned, still not sure how to feel about taking orders from someone who looked way younger than her.

"Alright, Sera—look here. And here."

Ĉiela pointed at the map, two sections flashing red on the display. "These are black zones. Mengaðr territory, or as us normal people call them—Bæchūs."

Seraniti glanced at the highlighted zones, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Wasn't it some baker who discovered the first one? Who knows how long ago?"

It was Jud who answered, barely looking up from his phone. "Huh? Yeah, I think so… they all mumble about Etihayyim."

A section of the screen flickered, now displaying an image of a Bæchūs. The thing looked… wrong.

"Year after year, there's more of them," The mayor muttered, finishing up his conversation with his assistant. His gaze shifted toward the display, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Ugly things," he said, as if spitting the words out. "Head of a lupine, jagged antlers, covered in that sickly-looking fur. Long-ass limbs, with its body low to the ground."

As if on cue, the image updated—its mouth opening into a lazy, unnatural yawn, revealing rows upon rows of jagged teeth.

"And of course—its entire bloody body is covered in Óhreinn."

The sight of it sent an involuntary chill down Seraniti's spine.

"You're lucky we're in a town and not a stationary city—no matter how rare those are becoming."

Ĉiela's voice cut through the uneasy silence. "Those towns have it harder. nomadic towns and cities are like lights in the night—they keep them away and because these are too tall for them."

Bæchūs tended to avoid large cities. The affliction that clung to their bodies would spread further in populated areas, accelerating their decay and eventually killing them. That alone kept them from wandering too close.

The smallest ever recorded was still the size of a wolf.

"The black zone should disperse in a few days," Jud muttered, clearing his throat. "If it doesn't… well, you'll have to clear a path yourselves."

A pause. Then, with an odd note of amusement, he added. "Did you know there's a theory that these ugly fucks were made to fight fiends? Y'know—the actual monsters?"

Seraniti arched a brow.

"What, population control?"

Jud shrugged, flicking his finger toward the screen. A short video played—grainy footage of a Bæchūs tearing into a monstrous creature, its jagged antlers snapping like weapons, its movements erratic but brutally effective.

"They've been seen going after monsta's pretty aggressively," He said. "And if they spot both us and a monster at the same time. They ignore us."

Seraniti watched as the Bæchūs on screen lunged forward, driving its fangs deep into the beast's throat.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

"Useful."

"Terrifying." Zora corrected, tail flicking.

Neither of them were wrong.

"But anyway, here."

Seraniti's vision filled with another file transfer.

"This has details on the few vehicles we do have—unlike what Inna said." Ĉiela's voice remained even. "They'll be used for support and to carry supplies. Some have weapons, but I wouldn't rely on them."

She clapped her hands lightly, her tail swaying lazily behind her. "That's it for now. If anything else comes up, I'll text you instead of dragging you back here, okay?"

"Fine. I'll be at my place then. Let's go, Zora."

Zora hummed in response before casually grabbing Seraniti's wrist.

And just like that, they vanished into the shadows, leaving the room in silence—save for the flickering images of the creatures that still roamed the earth.

Ĉiela sighed the moment they were gone.

"Are you sure about this, Master?"

The mayor didn't look away from the screen as fresh reports appeared. His expression was unreadable.

"Why ask now? What difference would it make?" His voice was low, almost tired. "None of us trust each other. If she dies, we won't have to answer for it."

His fingers tapped against the desk, his jaw tightening slightly.

"Its not like that woman is here. And—" He exhaled through his nose.

"We need the people."