Save Sayo

The cabin felt smaller after everything was said.

Not cramped exactly, but heavy.

Ruki sat perched near the doorway, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes downcast. The firelight caught the sharp angles of her tattoos, the same spirals Yamaba had once traced with trembling fingers when they were fresh and new. She didn’t look at anyone while she spoke, voice steady in that unnervingly familiar way.

“The village.. Brightburrow isn’t… chaos,” Ruki said quietly. “It’s organized. Brutal. Practical.”

She shrugged one narrow shoulder. “Adventurers are resources. Strong men get broken or sold. Women…” She hesitated, jaw tightening. “Women are livestock.”

Yamaba didn’t move. Her spirit flames dimmed to embers, barely breathing.

Ruki continued anyway. “Most goblin girls can’t have children. When one can…” Her lips pressed thin. “They don’t envy her. She gets taken. Kept ****. brain fucked, sometimes. Traded between clans. Shamans decide who breeds and when.”

She finally looked up.

Alice’s hands clenched at her sides.

(Okay. Okay. Don’t explode. Don’t scream. Don’t draw the sword and start a goblin genocide.)

Ruki glanced at Yamaba then, eyes sharp. “Sayo survived because she was useful. She took after you.”

There was no warmth in her tone this time. Just something pointed.

“She learned fast. Learned to endure. Learned to lie.”

Yamaba flinched.

Ruki didn’t apologize.

“She became a shaman’s servant,” Ruki went on. “Which means she stopped being anyone’s sister. Or daughter.” A pause. “She didn’t fight it. Maybe she couldn’t.”

The silence that followed was raw.

Yamaba’s hands trembled once, then stilled. She looked smaller somehow, shoulders drawn inward, eyes fixed on nothing.

Alice stepped forward.

“No,” she said.

Everyone looked at her.

“No,” Alice repeated, voice firmer now. “That’s not where this story ends.”

Ruki blinked. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I understand enough,” Alice shot back. “I understand that Sayo’s alive. I understand she’s trapped. And I understand that this place runs on people assuming it can’t be changed.”

She turned to Yamaba, eyes burning.

“We’re getting your daughter out.”

Yamaba’s breath hitched.

“And after that,” Alice added, jaw set, “we’re finding your son too.”

The words hung there, impossible and heavy.

Ruki stared at her like she’d just declared war on gravity.

“You can’t just walk into Brightburrow,” she said flatly. “You don’t ‘save’ people from Fangspire. You survive it. Maybe.”

Alice snorted, a sharp, humorless sound.

“I’m bad at quitting while I’m ahead.”

She looked down at her hands. At the faint violet glow still lingering in her vision. At the black rune pulsing over her heart.

She looked back up.

“Point me at the village.”

Yamaba finally spoke.

Her voice was hoarse. “Alice… if we do this ”

“I know,” Alice cut in gently. “It won’t be clean. Or heroic. Or safe.”

She reached out, hesitated, then rested her forehead lightly against Yamaba’s shoulder.

“But you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

Yamaba’s composure cracked.

Just a little.

Enough that her fingers curled into Alice’s sleeve, tight, ****, like she was afraid the world might take this promise too if she let go.

Ruki watched them in silence.

Alice didn’t speak right away.

She stood there in the glow of the mana crystals, Ruki’s words still hanging in the air like ash that refused to settle. No hope. The phrase gnawed at her. Not because it was wrong but because Ruki believed it.

Ruki wasn’t posturing. She wasn’t being dramatic. She was tired. And the way her shoulders sagged as she said it told Alice everything she needed to know.

“We can’t take Brightburrow,” Yamaba said quietly, eyes fixed on the cavern wall instead of any of them. “Not like this. Not with just us. They have numbers. Fighters. A chief who knows how to use both. If we walk in there…” Her jaw tightened. “…we die. Or worse.”

Leo scoffed automatically, but there was no heat in it this time. “So what, we walk away?” he asked. “That’s it?”

Yamaba didn’t answer.

Alice felt something sharp twist in her chest.

(…No. Fuck that.)

She exhaled slowly, then straightened. When she spoke, her voice surprised even herself by how steady it was.

“There is another option.”

Leo turned to her, brow already furrowing. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of storming the place solo, **** Knight. I already watched you almost get flattened by a cave bear yesterday.”

“I’m not,” Alice said. “I’m thinking bigger.”

Yamaba finally looked at her then. There was a flicker there hope, fear, guilt, all tangled together.

Alice swallowed.

“I can call in an elite squad.”

The words landed heavy.

Leo barked a short laugh. “Right. Sure. And I can summon a dragon if I ask nicely enough.”

“I’m serious,” Alice said.

Jolie blinked. “Wait elite elite? Like… guild-sanctioned, A-rank babysitters elite?”

Alice hesitated.

This was the moment. She felt it like stepping off a ledge.

(I hate this. I hate this so much.)

She rubbed the back of her neck, eyes flicking away. “I don’t… like doing this. I didn’t want to ever do this. But this isn’t about me anymore.”

She looked back at Yamaba.

“It’s about your kids.”

Silence fell hard and fast.

Yamaba’s breath caught, just barely. She didn’t speak but her hands trembled, fingers curling into the fabric of her armor.

Leo stared at Alice, suspicion creeping into his expression. “You’re talking like this is a sure thing,” he said slowly. “Elite squads don’t just show up because a rookie asks.”

Alice met his gaze.

“They do if the request comes from the Guildmaster’s daughter.”

The world stopped.

Jolie’s mouth fell open. “The what?”

Leo’s smirk vanished so fast it was almost funny. “Say that again.”

Alice winced. “I’d really rather not.”

“Alice,” Leo said flatly. “Say it again.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “My father is Quin. Guildmaster of Inspira.”

The words echoed in the cavern like a dropped sword.

Leo just stared at her.

Then he laughed. Once. Sharp. Disbelieving. “No. No way. You’re telling me you’re that Quin’s kid? as in our fucking boss?!” His eyes raked over her armor, her rune, her still-bloody boots. “You’ve been running around half-geared, nearly dying in Candyland ”

“Because I don’t want his help,” Alice snapped, heat flaring before she could stop it. She clenched her fists. “I didn’t want to be that person. The Guildmaster’s bastard daughter who skips the line. I wanted to earn it.”

Her voice softened. “But this… this isn’t about pride anymore.”

She turned back to Yamaba.

“I’ll call him. I’ll tell him exactly where we are. And he’ll send people who can hit Brightburrow hard and clean. No… livestock cages. No survivors chained to walls. We do this right.”

Yamaba stared at her like she was seeing her for the first time.

“You’d do that,” she said quietly.

Alice nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

(And I’ll deal with the fallout later.)

Leo scrubbed a hand through his hair, lightning flickering faintly through the strands. “You realize what this means,” he muttered. “Once you pull that trigger, there’s no pretending you’re just another rookie.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Alice hesitated just for a heartbeat.

Then she looked at Yamaba again. At the woman who had survived hell, built a fragile peace, and lost everything anyway.

“I’ll live with it,” she said. “I won’t live with walking away.”

Yamaba’s composure finally cracked.

She bowed her head, shoulders shaking once just once before she mastered herself again. When she looked up, her molten eyes were wet.

“…Thank you,” she said.

Alice didn’t trust herself to respond. She just nodded and turned away, already pulling up her panel.

(Alright, Dad. You win.)

The panel bloomed into existence with a soft chime, hovering in front of Alice’s face. For a second, she just stared at it.

Her thumb hovered over the contact rune.

(Just do it. Before I chicken out.)

She tapped.

The call connected instantly.

Quin’s image snapped into focus with clarity. Crimson hair slicked back, cigarette already lit, suit immaculate even here. He looked like he always did on broadcasts composed, confident, untouchable.

Then his eyes widened.

“…Alice?”

The cigarette nearly slipped from his fingers.

Alice swallowed. “Hey, Daddy.”

For a heartbeat, Quin just stared at her through the panel. Then his mouth curved into a grin so wide it almost hurt to look at.

“You finally called,” he said, voice bright with something dangerously close to joy. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for that?”

Alice winced. “Yeah. I figured you probably were.”

His gaze flicked rapidly over her bloodstains, battered armor, the faint violet glow in her eyes. The grin sharpened. “First dungeon already chewing on you?”

“Something like that.” She hesitated, then **** herself onward. “I need a favor.”

Quin’s laughter burst out of him, loud and genuine. “A favor? From me? Dice above, mark the date.” He leaned closer to the panel, eyes alight. “What do you need? Gear? Credits? A transfer out of whatever **** trap you wandered into?”

Alice took a breath. “I need an elite squad. Quiet, efficient. No collateral.” She glanced back at Yamaba, then met her father’s eyes again. “Target is a goblin settlement. Brightburrow. Fangspire.”

The smile vanished.

Quin went still, smoke curling forgotten between his fingers. “That’s not a rookie request.”

“I know.”

“And you’re sure?” he asked, voice suddenly sharp. “You don’t call in a hammer like that unless you’re ready for what comes after.”

Alice nodded once. “I’m sure.”

There was a long pause.

Then Quin exhaled slowly and smiled again. This one was different. Proud. Fierce.

“Done,” he said. “I’ll dispatch a retrieval-and-neutralization team. Eight members. Mixed specialties. ETA… give them forty minutes.” He tilted his head. “And Alice?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you called,” he said quietly. “Truly.”

Her throat tightened. “Thanks. I ” She stopped herself. “I owe you.”

He chuckled. “We’ll talk about that later.”

The panel faded.

Silence rushed in like a held breath.

Alice dismissed the interface and turned back to the others. No one spoke for a few seconds. The waterfall thundered softly outside, oblivious.

Leo broke first.

“…So it's true,” he said slowly. “You’re the fucking Guildmaster’s bastard daughter.”

Alice grimaced. “Yep.”

Jolie’s eyes were huge. “You mean Quin Quin. Our boss Quin.”

“Unfortunately,” Alice muttered.

Leo let out a low whistle. “That explains a lot. And raises a lot of questions.”

Yamaba hadn’t moved. She was staring at Alice with something like disbelief and something dangerously close to relief.

“They’re coming?” she asked softly.

Alice nodded. “They’re coming.”

Yamaba’s shoulders sagged as if a weight she’d been carrying for years finally shifted. She closed her eyes, just for a second.

“…Thank you,” she said again, quieter this time.

Alice looked away, heat creeping up her neck. “Don’t make it weird.”

Leo snorted. “Too late. It’s already weird.” He crossed his arms.

“I didn’t want it to matter,” she said. “I still don’t.”

Jolie tilted her head, studying her. “It matters now.”

Alice met her gaze. “Yeah. I know.”

They stood there together in the glow of the hidden grotto waiting.

The air screamed.

Not metaphorically. It screamed.

Mana pressure slammed into the cavern like a held breath finally bursting loose, heat rolling outward in a shockwave that rattled the crystal lamps and sent ripples across the pond. The waterfall hissed as steam ghosted off its surface.

A circle of fire tore itself open in the center of the glade.

Runes burned themselves into the air, elegant and vicious, layered with authority. This was not a dungeon portal. This was not a system gate. This was someone forcing reality to comply.

Alice stumbled back a step.

(…That’s not a spell. That’s power.)

The flames folded inward, sculpting themselves into a doorway of living ember and molten script. The pressure alone made her chest tighten.

And then a heel clicked against stone.

Once.

Twice.

She knew who it was before she even saw her.

A woman stepped through the fire as if it were a stage curtain, unbothered by the heat, the flames bending away from her skin like obedient pets. Long crimson hair spilled down her back in a glossy sheet, every strand perfectly controlled. Her gown clung like poured ink, black leather and gold filigree hugging curves with unapologetic confidence. A glass of dark red liquid rested in her gloved hand, untouched by the heat.

Her eyes lifted.

Red. Not glowing. Not flaring. Just… red. The kind that promised understanding of anatomy down to the smallest nerve.

Seraphina Inspira smiled.

It was a practiced thing. Elegant. Cruel.

“Well,” she purred, her voice smooth enough to cut with. “So nice to see you again little sister.”

Alice’s stomach dropped.

(Yep. Of course it’s her.)

Seraphina’s gaze drifted lazily across the group. Leo. Jolie. Ruki. Yamaba. And then it landed on Alice.

The smile sharpened, just a fraction.

“Oh?” she murmured. “How quaint. You’ve been nesting in warrens now?”

Yamaba didn’t move. But her spirit flames dimmed, drawn inward like wounded animals.

Alice stepped forward without thinking.

Alice snapped. “This isn’t your business.”

Seraphina finally looked at her.

Really looked.

Her eyes traced Alice from armor to the black sigil burning faintly beneath her shirt. One perfectly groomed brow lifted.

“…Little Sparrow,” she said softly.

Alice flinched despite herself.

Seraphina’s lips curved. “I wondered how long it would take before you embarrassed the family in public again? How dramatic. You always did overcompensate.”

Heat rushed to Alice’s face. “Get to the point.”

Seraphina chuckled, lifting her glass slightly in mock salute. “Straight to the throat. How very… unpolished.” Her gaze slid to Yamaba again, lingering. “Father says there’s a ‘complication’ involving goblins. Brightburrow, was it? I thought I might appreciate the… The distraction.”

The fire behind her guttered, responding to her mood.

“And I do.”

Seraphina laughed outright then, the sound ringing sharp against the cavern walls. “Oh, darling. If you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t have survived long enough to matter.” She took a delicate sip from her glass. “Oh sweet little sparrow, when I heard my dearest little sister was in trouble I had to come in person don't worry about any Elite Squad I'll take care of it myself~”

Seraphina didn’t wait for permission.

She turned on her heel and began walking deeper into the warrens, heels clicking against stone as if this were a polished gallery instead of hostile territory. The firelight from her portal guttered out behind her, leaving only the lingering heat and the smell of scorched mana.

“Well?” she said over her shoulder. “Are you coming, or do goblin holes make you nervous now?”

Alice ground her teeth and followed.

The tunnels recoiled around them, the Maze pressing in with its usual malicious intent. Shadows shifted. Narrow slits in the walls watched. Somewhere far above, goblins chattered.

Seraphina didn’t slow.

She didn’t glance at the ceiling holes. Didn’t react to pressure plates or weighted stones. Traps that Yamaba would normally point out with tense precision simply… didn’t matter. Seraphina walked straight through them, flesh and reality subtly warping around her steps, mechanisms crumpling or failing before they could even trigger.

She sighed theatrically. “Honestly. Fangspire hasn’t changed."

Alice scowled. (Show-off.)

“So,” Seraphina continued lightly, as if they were strolling a campus courtyard, “do you remember the academy?”

Alice stiffened.

“I remember you leaving,” Seraphina went on. “All that money, all those tutors, all that potential. Father was so proud when you got in.” She glanced back, eyes gleaming. “And then what was it? Less than a year later? Expelled before you even unlocked your System.”

Leo’s gaze flicked sharply to Alice.

Jolie frowned. Ruki went very still.

Alice snapped, “I wasn’t expelled. I dropped out.”

Seraphina laughed softly. “Oh, Little Sparrow. You ran.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Over a boy, no less. Truly tragic.”

Alice’s face burned. “That’s not it was more complicated than that!”

“Was it?” Seraphina asked sweetly. “From where I was standing, it looked like you broke up with your first real boyfriend and suddenly decided the academy was ‘too much pressure.’”

Alice clenched her fists. (You don’t get to talk about him. You don’t get to talk about any of that.)

“And besides,” Alice shot back, “I didn’t want Father paying my way. I didn’t want handouts.”

Seraphina’s smile sharpened. “How noble. And how convenient.” She tilted her head. “Funny how you discovered your principles right after failing your evaluations.”

“That’s not fair,” Alice snapped. “My mom needed me.”

Seraphina stopped walking.

The tunnels seemed to hold their breath.

“Maria?” she said, tasting the name. “Please. Your party-girl bartender mother who can’t remember what day it is half the time?”

Alice stepped closer, anger flaring hot. “She needed someone responsible. Someone to actually be there. She took care of me, and I took care of her. That matters.”

Seraphina turned slowly, red eyes cold and assessing. “How touching,” she said flatly. “You chose babysitting over greatness.”

Before Alice could respond

Movement.

Dozens of goblins burst from the walls at once, pouring out of crawlspaces and ceiling holes, faces twisting mid-motion from wide-eyed curiosity into snarling, gelada like snarls. Torchlight flared, casting their glowing eyes and bared teeth into sharp relief.

Leo swore. Yamaba’s staff came up. Ruki dropped into a crouch.

Seraphina sighed.

“Oh, honestly.”

She didn’t gesture dramatically. She didn’t chant. She didn’t even look particularly annoyed.

She snapped her fingers.

The air folded inward.

The goblins didn’t scream.

They compressed.

Flesh, bone, and momentum collapsed in on themselves as if gravity had suddenly remembered them personally. Bodies inverted, crushed, rounded until where snarling figures had been, dozens of tiny, perfectly spherical meatballs clattered harmlessly to the cavern floor.

They rolled.

One bumped into Alice’s boot.

Silence followed.

Leo stared. “…What the fuck.”

Jolie’s jaw hung open.

Ruki swallowed hard.

Yamaba’s spirit flames flickered erratically, unsettled.

Seraphina looked pleased. “See? Efficient.” She stepped around the scattered Fleshballs without a second glance. “Now. Where were we?”

The tunnel ahead erupted.

Goblins poured from side shafts and ceiling holes, dozens of them, snarling, eyes catching the light like feral cats. Nets snapped loose. Blades flashed. A coordinated ambush, clean and practiced.

Alice reached for her sword.

Seraphina sighed.

She lifted one hand, fingers flexing as if testing a glove.

The goblins mid leap came apart.

blood. gore.

Structure.

Their bodies unraveled into strands of flesh and sinew, threads pulled loose and spun inward, compacting with impossible pressure. The air warped. Sound vanished. Then, with a soft wet series of impacts, steaming meat splatted onto the cold ground like wet spaghetti.

Silence.

Jolie stared.

Leo’s mouth opened. Closed.

Seraphina took a slow sip from her glass. “Honestly, you would think they’d learn. Running only makes it messier.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “You’re showing off.”

“Of course I am,” Seraphina replied pleasantly. “You brought an audience.”

They continued walking, stepping over the remains.

Seraphina turned, finally giving her full attention. “So tell me little sparrow why did you drop out?”

Alice’s hands curled into fists. “Because it was all arranged. The classes. The expectations. The boyfriend.”

Seraphina’s smile widened. “Ah. Him.”

The name slid off her tongue casually. Familiar. Intimate.

Alice stiffened. “You’re still talking to him?”

“Of course,” Seraphina said. “He’s doing quite well now. Respectable tier. Solid party. He speaks very highly of his progress.”

A beat.

“He did mention,” Seraphina added lazily, “that he found certain anatomical surprises… disappointing.”

The cavern seemed to shrink.

Alice’s face burned. “That’s not why it ended.”

Seraphina shrugged. “Darling, you have a cock. He didn’t like that. Some men are fragile.”

The party collectively found the floor fascinating.

Yamaba stared straight ahead, unmoving. Ruki’s tail curled tight around her leg. Leo looked like he wanted to vanish into a crack in the stone.

Alice’s voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “You don’t get it. He never liked me. He liked the deal. The name. I was just the inconvenience attached to it.”

Seraphina tilted her head. “Then you should try again. He’s matured. Learned flexibility. Father would approve.”

Alice laughed once, sharp and hollow. “You really don’t understand me at all.”

Another ambush hit them, goblins screaming as they fled in panic.

Seraphina didn’t break stride.

Their flesh unraveled mid-run, bodies pulling apart into loose strands, collapsing into lifeless piles as if the threads holding them together had simply been tugged free.

Alice didn’t even flinch this time.

She just sighed. “You enjoy this too much.”

Seraphina smiled over her shoulder. “You have no idea.”

Behind them, the party moved as quietly as possible, overwhelmed, intimidated, and very aware that they were walking beside something closer to a natural disaster than an adventurer.

And Alice, for all her irritation, kept pace.

Ruki moved first.

She didn’t speak loudly. She didn’t need to. She raised one clawed hand and pointed down a side tunnel where the stone had been reinforced with timber and bone charms.

“That way,” she said calmly. “Brightburrow’s outer ring. Watch the floor. The traps start about twenty steps in.”

Yamaba nodded once, already adjusting their path. “The walls here are thinner,” she added quietly. “They like hiding firing slits behind fungus growth. Don’t hug the right side.”

Alice blinked.

The tunnel widened slightly, the air growing warmer, heavier with smoke and iron. Ahead, goblin silhouettes froze as the group came into view. A few raised crude weapons. One opened its mouth to shout.

It never got the chance.

Seraphina didn’t look at them.

She was still mid-sentence, idly gesturing with her glass as she spoke to Alice. “You always did rush headfirst. Father said it was ‘charming.’ I called it predictable.”

Behind her, something moved.

The goblin’s scream cut off as its body went slack. No wound. No impact. Just… empty. Its skin grayed, shriveled, collapsing inward as if something essential had been pulled out through invisible veins.

Another goblin stumbled back, horrified.

The blood didn’t spill.

It streamed.

Thin crimson ribbons tore free from its pores, its mouth, its eyes, flowing backward through the air in impossible arcs, spiraling toward Seraphina’s outstretched hand. The liquid compressed there, condensing into a dark, glistening sphere that hovered just above her palm.

The goblin dropped to the ground, lifeless.

The rest turned and ran.

Seraphina sighed. “Honestly. It’s rude to point weapons at guests.”

She closed her fingers slowly.

The blood sphere shrank, pulsed once, and vanished into her skin.

Alice didn’t even flinch.

They kept walking.

Goblins scattered ahead of them now, panic rippling through the tunnels. Any that hesitated, any that so much as twitched toward a blade, simply… withered. One by one, their bodies emptied where they stood, falling like discarded husks. Each time, that same unseen pull. That same impossible gathering.

The party stayed silent.

Leo kept his eyes on the floor. Jolie’s hand was clenched tight in his sleeve. Ruki’s tail hugged her leg, but her expression was unreadable. Yamaba walked with her head high, jaw tight, flames barely flickering.

Alice glanced sideways at her sister.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said flatly.

Seraphina’s eyes flicked toward her, amused. “Enjoyment implies effort. This is instinct.”

Something in the way she said it made Alice’s skin prickle.

The tunnel ahead opened into a vast chamber.

Brightburrow.

Carved terraces climbed the cavern walls like a layered hive. Bioluminescent fungus painted the stone in greens and golds. Rope bridges and bone ladders crisscrossed the open space. Fires burned in iron braziers. Hundreds of goblins froze mid-motion as the pressure hit them.

Silence fell like a held breath.

Ruki stepped forward, voice steady despite the way her claws dug into her palm. “That’s the central ring. The chief’s hall is above the platforms. The shamans keep to the rear chambers.”

Yamaba’s eyes burned. “And the cages?”

Ruki swallowed. “Below.”

Alice felt her stomach twist.

Seraphina surveyed the village like a queen inspecting a board game. Her gaze lingered on the structures, the flow of bodies, the **** points.

“Hm,” she murmured. “Crude. But efficient.”

A goblin on a high walkway screamed something unintelligible and hurled a spear.

It never reached them.

The weapon crumpled mid-air, metal folding in on itself like soft wax. At the same time, the goblin convulsed, its blood ripping free in a violent rush that streaked across the chamber and vanished into Seraphina’s waiting hand.

She didn’t even turn.

Alice exhaled slowly through her nose. “You’re scaring them.”

Seraphina smiled, teeth just a little too sharp. “Good.”

She stepped forward into Brightburrow proper, the ground itself seeming to recoil from her presence.

“Let’s go save your family,” she said lightly. “Before I get bored.”

And behind her, the blood-dark air shimmered, as if something vast and ancient had just stretched its wings.

The music arrived before the man.

A single, lilting note drifted over the ruined square, bright and playful, cutting through screams and collapsing stone like it owned the air itself. Goblins froze mid flight. Even Seraphina’s blood construct paused, its surface rippling as if listening.

From the highest balcony of Brightburrow’s central spire, a figure stepped into the phosphorescent light.

Moru.

Bare chest gleaming, hair falling in perfect waves that caught every color of the cavern glow, he spread his arms wide as if greeting an adoring audience. His smile was brilliant, theatrical, and completely unbothered by the carnage below.

“Well,” he drawled, voice carrying effortlessly across the village, “this is dreadfully rude of you, Yamaba. You come back from the dead, redecorate my streets with intestines, and you do not even say hello?”

Yamaba went rigid.

Her spirit flames flickered, then steadied, burning tighter to her form. “You,” she said. Just that.

Moru pressed a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Ah. so cold.” He leaned on the railing, chin in his palm. “You Used to be such a captive audience.”

Alice felt the temperature drop beside her.

Seraphina, however, barely glanced up.

“Oh,” she said mildly, swirling the dark red liquid in her glass. “Is this one of yours?”

Moru’s eyes slid to her at last. They brightened with immediate interest. “My, my. And who might you be? You reek of lineage. fine breeding.”

Seraphina smiled without warmth. “Seraphina Inspira.”

Recognition flickered. Delight followed. “Ahhh. I should have known. Only an Inspira would bring a walking genocide into my little art project.”

She tilted her head. “You’re monologuing.”

“Yes,” Moru said proudly. “It’s part of the experience. You see, Brightburrow is not merely a village. It is a stage. Every scream has timing. Every **** has rhythm.” He gestured broadly, and goblins below straightened, their movements suddenly coordinated, fluid, almost dance like. “Even now, they move to my song.”

He strummed an invisible chord. The air hummed. Goblins surged forward in perfect formation.

Seraphina sighed.

Every goblin that raised a weapon stiffened.

Blood ripped free from their bodies in violent streams, tearing out through mouths, eyes, pores, veins unraveling like thread pulled too fast. The crimson torrent did not splash or spill. It curved, obedient, arcing through the air into Seraphina’s outstretched hand.

The goblins collapsed where they stood. Dry. Empty. Dead.

The blood twisted, compressed, spinning into a dense, hovering sphere that pulsed faintly like a second heart.

Moru blinked.

“…Well,” he said, recovering quickly. “That was a bit gauche.”

Seraphina finally looked at him. Her eyes were bored. Almost sleepy.

“You talk too much.”

She flicked her fingers.

The blood sphere detonated into razor thin beams, lancing outward with a shriek like pressure breaking. Buildings split cleanly in half, stone and wood sheared apart as if cut by invisible wire. Goblins vanished mid step, sliced so precisely they did not fall until a heartbeat later.

One beam crossed the balcony.

Moru was still smiling as it reached him.

Then he wasn’t.

His body separated cleanly at the waist, upper half sliding air, lower half remaining upright for a confused second before both pieces fell.

The music stopped.

For a breath, the village went silent.

Then the blood soaked ground began to move.

Every corpse jerked. Liquefied flesh flowed backward, pooling, climbing, knitting together into towering masses of meat and bone. Limbs fused. Mouths opened and closed without sound. Improvised flesh golems hauled themselves upright, blind and furious.

They turned on the goblins.

Seraphina took another sip from her glass as Brightburrow descended into screaming chaos, flesh constructs rampaging through their former kin.

“Hm,” she mused. “ Messy. Still. Efficient enough.”

Alice stared, unimpressed, arms crossed. “You didn’t have to kill him mid sentence.”

Seraphina smirked. “I absolutely did.”

Behind them, Yamaba stood shaking, eyes locked on the ruined balcony where Moru had been.

Ruki swallowed hard.

Ruki didn’t look back as she led them downward.

The tunnels narrowed, then widened again into something that smelled wrong the moment Alice stepped into it. The air was thick and sour, heavy with rot, fear, and old blood. The stone floor dipped into shallow channels meant to carry waste away. Iron rings were bolted into the walls.

The breeding pits.

Even Seraphina stopped talking.

Cages lined the chamber, stacked in crude tiers. Inside them were people.

Women, mostly. Some barely conscious. Some staring vacantly. Several were heavily pregnant, bellies distended beneath filthy rags. Others bore the cost of resistance. Empty sockets where eyes should have been. Missing hands. Legs ending in stumps, hastily cauterized.

Alice felt bile rise in her throat.

(Yep. That’s it. Burn it all.)

Yamaba didn’t move. Her flames had gone utterly still, drawn tight to her body like they were afraid to breathe.

“These are the mothers they kept alive,” Ruki said quietly. “The rest didn’t last.”

A goblin shriek echoed somewhere above.

Seraphina stepped forward.

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t announce anything.

She simply placed her glass aside on a stone ledge.

Then she began to work.

Flesh moved.

Not violently. Not explosively.

It rewrote itself.

Severed limbs regrew in smooth, horrifying grace. Bone extended. Muscle knitted. Skin flowed back into place like wax reshaped by a careful hand. Empty eye sockets filled, nerves reconnecting, pupils forming last with a faint red sheen before settling into human color.

The women screamed.

Then cried.

Then went quiet as their bodies stabilized, restored to a state that felt impossible minutes ago.

Seraphina swayed slightly as she worked, skin paling by degrees. The crimson warmth drained from her cheeks. She leaned against the wall once, breath steady but measured.

Alice watched, jaw clenched.

“She’s an A-rank Healer,” Alice said to the others, voice low. “Fleshcrafter specialization.”

Leo looked like he’d been punched. “That’s… that’s insane.”

“It’s rare,” Alice said. “And it costs her.”

Seraphina straightened slowly, eyes darkening.

“I’ll need to feed,” she said casually.

She stepped close, fingers brushing Alice’s hair aside with familiarity. Alice turned her face away instinctively, cheeks burning.

(Please don’t do this not… in front of everyone.)

The bite was precise. Not painful so much as cold, a sharp pressure followed by warmth draining away. Seraphina drank sparingly, eyes half-lidded, expression distant, reverent.

Alice stood stiff as a board, mortified.

Alice felt her sister suckling at her neck, she felt her cock grow hard pushing against her armor.

(Yep. This is happening. Again. In a goblin breeding pit. Fantastic.)

Seraphina released her, licking the wound closed with a slow swipe of her tongue. Color returned to her skin almost instantly.

“You're still delicious Little Sparrow~” she murmured.

Alice blushing rubbed her neck, scowling. “You could at least pretend this isn’t awkward.”

Seraphina smirked. “Oh, it absolutely is.”

Behind them, the freed captives huddled together, weeping, alive.

Seraphina spoke with quiet authority of someone used this.

“…Memory erasure therapy will be made available to any who request it,” she said matter of factly. “Selective. Targeted. Nothing crude.” Her gaze swept the freed captives, assessing injuries, shock, fractures that had nothing to do with bone. “Medical care, relocation, compensation. Inspira Guild will cover it. Any adventurer registered under the guild is eligible for worker’s recompense, trauma clauses included.”

A murmur rippled through the survivors. Not hope yet. But disbelief.

“As for the children,” Seraphina continued, tone cool but precise, “no one will be **** to surrender them. Those who wish to keep their children will be supported. Those who cannot, or will not, are not monsters for that choice.” She paused, letting the words settle. “Unclaimed goblin children will be transferred to the Earth-side Civilized Goblin Immigration Program. Adoption priority is guaranteed. Goblin women are infertile. Demand exceeds supply.”

Her red eyes hardened.

“Every child will have a home.”

Somewhere behind Alice, someone began to cry.

Seraphina turned away, already issuing instructions through her panel, assigning extraction teams, healers, escorts.

That was when Yamaba moved.

She simply slipped out of the breeding chamber, spirit flames drawn tight, steps silent and purposeful. Her shoulders were rigid, like if she stopped moving she would shatter.

Alice noticed immediately.

“…Yamaba,” she said, then broke away from the group without waiting for permission.

The tunnels beyond were darker. Narrower. This part of the warren felt older, less traveled. Ruki had said nothing, but Alice felt it. The way Yamaba’s pace quickened. The way her breath shortened.

Alice heard voices before they saw them.

Harsh. Mocking. Goblin.

Alice rounded the corner and froze.

Two shamans stood in a recessed alcove, their robes smeared with ash and sigil-paint. Between them, pressed against the stone, was a small goblin woman.

Sayo?

Her hair hung forward, obscuring most of her face. Her posture was wrong, defensive in a way that spoke of long habit. One shaman struck her with the back of his hand, snarling words Alice didn’t need translated.

“You cursed us,” one hissed. “You and your surface witch whore mother.”

The second grabbed Sayo by the shoulder and shoved her hard enough that her head struck stone.

Yamaba made a sound.

It wasn’t a scream.

It was worse. Low. Broken. Animal.

The shamans turned.

Recognition flared instantly.

“…You,” one of them spat. “The fire-maker. Of course. This is your fault.”

Yamaba stepped forward.

The air changed.

Spirit flames erupted around her in a violent halo of turquoise light, heat and cold colliding in a pressure that made the tunnel walls groan. Her voice shook, but it did not waver.

“Let her go.”

The shamans laughed. Nervous now. Too late.

“She belongs to the warrens,” one snapped. “She always has.”

Yamaba raised her hand.

Alice felt the spell before she saw it.

The stone beneath the shamans cracked as spectral shapes tore free from the floor, clawed hands of bone and flame erupting upward. One shaman was lifted bodily, screaming as ghostfire wrapped around his chest and silenced him mid-word. The other turned to flee and didn’t make it two steps before a wraith’s grip closed around his spine.

There was no mercy in the kill.

No spectacle either.

Just finality.

Silence rushed back in, broken only by Sayo’s breathing. Fast. Shallow.

Yamaba approached her slowly, flames dimming, hands trembling.

“Sayo,” she said. Soft. Afraid.

Sayo didn’t look up at first.

Then she did.

One molten orange eye gleamed beneath her messy long hair, identical to Yamaba’s.

“…You came,” she said. Not accusation. Not relief. Just disbelief.

Yamaba dropped to her knees in front of her daughter.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not leaving again.”

Sayo’s composure cracked. Just slightly. Enough.

Alice stayed back, heart hammering, giving them space as Yamaba wrapped trembling arms around her daughter.

Sayo stiffened at first.

Her body locked. Her hands hovered, uncertain, claws half-curled like she didn’t remember what they were supposed to do in an embrace.

“It’s… it’s okay,” Yamaba murmured, voice unsteady despite her effort to keep it flat. Controlled calm. “I’m here. You don’t have to ”

Sayo flinched anyway.

too much, too fast.

Yamaba froze instantly, pulling back a fraction, eyes wide with guilt. Her spirit flames flickered, dimmed, then settled into a low, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she said too quickly. “I shouldn’t I won’t I’ll ” She stopped herself, swallowed hard. Tried again, softer. “We can go slow.”

Sayo nodded once. A tiny motion.

Her eyes were unfocused, drifting past Yamaba’s shoulder as if the cave behind them was still full of shouting voices that only she could hear. Old bruises, half-healed, mapped her arms. The tattoos that marked her as someone important in the warrens were inked over scars.

Alice’s chest tightened.

(Yep. Totally a third wheel right now, what the hell am I even supposed to say in a situation like this?.)

Sayo finally leaned forward again, resting her forehead lightly against Yamaba’s collarbone. Not quite a hug.

Yamaba closed her eyes.

Her hand hovered, then gently settled on Sayo, fingers trembling like she didn’t trust herself to deserve this contact.

“I thought you were gone,” Yamaba said quietly. “I told myself you were strong. That you didn’t need me.” Her voice cracked despite herself. “I lied.”

Sayo didn’t answer.

She just stayed there.

Footsteps echoed behind them.

Alice glanced back just as Seraphina emerged from the tunnel mouth, Ruki padding along beside her. Seraphina looked… satisfied. Pale, yes. But composed.

Ruki’s eyes softened when she saw Sayo.

“Hey,” she said gently. “You did good. You held out.”

Sayo’s fingers tightened briefly in Yamaba’s armor.

Alice cleared her throat, deliberately casual, eyes fixed on Sayo instead of her sister. “So,” she said. “What about your brother?”

Yamaba stiffened again.

“…Taro,” she said, the name barely more than breath. Fear threaded through it immediately.

Ruki tilted her head, ears flicking. “Oh. Him?” She smiled, small and almost playful, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, no. He’s… actually doing great.”

Yamaba blinked. “What?”

Ruki nodded. “The orcs. Turns out he likes it there. He’s strong, respected, gets fed properly.” Her tail swayed a little. “He’s got a partner, too.”

Yamaba’s brow furrowed. “…A partner.”

Ruki grinned, showing just a hint of fang. “Big guy. Scar across his chest. Taro follows him around like a proud puppy.” She shrugged. “They Train. Share food. It’s… kind of grossly sweet.”

Sayo let out the faintest sound.

Almost a laugh.

Ruki noticed immediately and leaned into it. “He’s happy,” she said. “Really happy. Like… stupid happy.”

Yamaba’s breath left her in a long, shaking exhale.

“…Good,” she said finally. “That’s… that’s good.”

Her hand tightened on Sayo’s back, just a little. Relief and grief tangled together, messy and unresolved, but lighter than the weight she’d been carrying.

Seraphina watched the exchange in silence, red eyes unreadable.

Alice, very pointedly, did not look at her.

Instead, she crouched beside Yamaba and Sayo, voice gentle. “We don’t have to decide anything else tonight. Okay?”

Sayo glanced at her, studying her face with quiet intensity apparently satisfied, and leaned back into Yamaba’s side.

Seraphina exhaled, long and exaggerated, like someone bored halfway through a chore.

“Well,” she said, glancing around the ruined cavern and slaughtered shamans, “this is all very touching, but it’s also boring.”

Alice looked up. “What now.”

Seraphina didn’t answer right away. She raised her hand, fingers already glowing faintly red as her panel flickered into existence beside her wrist. Her eyes skimmed whatever only she could see.

“I’ve already evacuated the others,” she said casually. “Party members, freed captives, noncombatants. They’re being routed through Inspira processing and medical. Father’s people will handle the rest.”

Yamaba stiffened. “You… what?”

Seraphina smiled thinly. “This dungeon was finished the moment I arrived. There’s no reason to linger.”

She flicked her wrist.

The air screamed again.

Not with the raw **** of the first tear, but with something cleaner. Sharper. Reality peeled open obediently, fire folding inward into a tall, oval portal rimmed with molten gold script. Wind howled through it, carrying the scent of sky.

Alice felt it in her bones.

(Oh. Oh no.)

“Wait,” Alice started. “Seraphina, hold on, we didn’t ”

Too late.

Seraphina stepped forward and shoved.

Alice stumbled straight into the fire, barely catching herself before another hand hit her shoulder. Yamaba gasped as she was pushed after her, instinctively pulling Sayo close. Ruki yelped, grabbing the edge of Yamaba’s armor just in time to be dragged along.

The world inverted.

Heat vanished.

Sound collapsed.

Then

Sky.

Alice tumbled forward onto polished stone, sunlight flooding her vision so hard she had to throw an arm up over her eyes. Wind rushed past, cool and clean, carrying the sound of falling water.

She sucked in a breath.

“…Oh no.”

They stood on a vast open terrace, its edges curving outward into nothing but open air. Below them, waterfalls spilled endlessly from the island’s underside, crashing into mist far beneath, the clouds swallowing the sound. Floating spires ringed the platform like a crown, each etched with gold runes and stained glass that caught the light and shattered it into color.

Above it all rose the palace.

Not a castle. A cathedral.

Stone and gold filigree soared upward in sweeping arches, towers layered with balconies and skybridges. Massive buttresses framed stained glass windows depicting battles, ascensions, and figures wreathed in light and flame. The whole structure hovered impossibly, anchored to nothing but magic and will.

Alice’s stomach twisted.

(Daddy's home.)

Sayo stared, eyes wide, tail flicking nervously. Ruki let out a low whistle. Yamaba didn’t speak at all, her spirit flames shrinking tight against her shoulders.

Alice felt suddenly very small.

Very dirty.

Very out of place.

(Too much. This is… this is way too much.)

Boots clicked softly against the stone.

A gold scaleborn woman in a maid outfit stepped forward, hands folded neatly in front of her apron. pale blonde hair fell over half her face, her expression calm and unreadable in the way only lifelong palace staff managed.

She bowed.

“Lady Alice,” the maid said gently. “Welcome home.”

Alice flinched.

“I ” She stopped, jaw tightening. “…Don’t call me that.”

The maid inclined her head without comment. “Your father is expecting you. He asked that you be brought to him as soon as you arrived.”

Alice swallowed.

(Of course he was.)

The maid’s gaze flicked briefly to Yamaba and the two goblins, then back to Alice, professional composure never breaking. “Your companions will be seen to. Medical staff are standing by. Accommodations have already been prepared.”

Seraphina appeared behind them, stepping out of the portal as if she’d merely crossed a threshold instead of worlds. She dusted imaginary soot from her sleeve.

“There,” she said lightly. “Everything in its proper place.”

Alice rounded on her. “You didn’t have to shove us.”

Seraphina smiled. “No, but I wanted to.”

Yamaba shifted uncomfortably, one hand resting protectively on Sayo’s shoulder. “Alice… if this is difficult ”

“It’s fine,” Alice said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ll… I’ll deal with it.”

The maid gestured toward the grand doors at the far end of the terrace, already opening soundlessly as if anticipating them. Warm light spilled out, carrying the distant echo of voices and the hum of power.

Alice took one last look at the open sky, at the waterfalls vanishing into mist below.

Then she sighed and followed.

Warm light spilled across polished marble floors veined with gold. The hall beyond was immense but lived-in. Banners bearing Inspira’s crest hung between towering columns. Servants moved with quiet efficiency.

Alice followed the maid in silence, boots echoing too loudly in her own ears.

(Every time I come here, it feels like I tracked mud across a temple.)

They stopped before a set of tall doors etched with layered sigils of authority and warding. The maid bowed once, then reached out and pushed.

The doors opened.

Quin Inspira stood at the far end of the chamber, framed by sunlight pouring in through a vast arched window that overlooked open sky. His crimson hair was slicked back as always, immaculate. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around him.

He turned the moment Alice stepped inside.

And smiled.

“Alice,” he said warmly. “You finally called.”

Her chest tightened.

(Of course he sounds happy. Of course he does.)

“You didn’t waste time,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Quin laughed softly, spreading his hands. “Time is the only resource you never get back. When my daughter asks for help, I move.” His gaze swept over her armor, the faint glow in her eyes, the sigil under her shirt he did not comment on. “You’ve grown.”

She snorted. “You say that every time.”

“And it’s true every time.” He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “You did the right thing, calling me. Brightburrow would have bled you dry.”

Alice shifted her weight. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know,” Quin said easily. “You did it because you couldn’t walk away.”

That landed harder than she liked.

Silence stretched.

Then Quin tilted his head, studying her with that sharp, calculating gaze she hated and inherited. “Now. About the favor.”

There it was.

Alice’s jaw tightened. “I knew you’d say that.”

He smiled, unapologetic. “Of course I would. This is how the world works, little one. You ask for something big, you give something back. Balance.”

“I didn’t ask for money,” she shot back. “I didn’t ask for gear or rank or protection.”

“No,” Quin agreed. “You asked for intervention. Authority. Blood on my hands and my name on the outcome.” His voice stayed calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. “That carries cost.”

Alice looked away.

(And this is why I never ask.)

Quin tapped ash into a crystal tray, then spoke again, casually. “I want you to move out of Maria’s apartment.”

Her head snapped back. “What?”

“Into the palace,” he continued, as if discussing the weather. “With me. With your siblings. You’re an adult now. A classed adventurer. A public figure, whether you like it or not.”

“No,” Alice said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Quin raised a brow. “Hear me out.”

“I don’t want to live here,” she said, words tumbling over each other. “I like my place. I love my mom. I don’t want servants and politics and people watching everything I do.”

Quin’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Maria is not stable, Alice.”

“She’s fine,” Alice snapped. “She’s just- she likes to have fun.”

“She forgets to sleep,” Quin replied calmly. “She forgets to eat. She forgets you exist when she’s chasing the next party.” He paused. “You’ve been parenting her since you were seven.”

Alice flinched.

He stepped closer, voice lower now. “You don’t owe her your stagnation.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’m not saying forever,” Quin went on. “I’m saying here. Safe. Visible. Where I can protect you, and where you can decide what you want next without holding someone else together with duct tape and stubbornness.”

Alice squeezed her eyes shut.

(I hate that he’s right. I hate it.)

“And this,” Quin finished gently, “is my favor.”

The room felt very quiet.

Alice stared at the floor, then at the sunlight beyond the window. At the endless sky.

“…Temporarily,” she said at last. “I move in temporarily. I don’t give up my independence. I don’t become your project.”

Quin smiled, wide and genuine. “Wonderful.”

She scowled. “I haven’t finished.”

He gestured for her to continue, amused.

“I keep my own work. My own party. My own choices,” she said firmly. “You don’t micromanage my life.”

Quin nodded. “Agreed.”

“And the moment I say I’m done,” she added, “I leave.”

He hesitated just long enough to show he didn’t love that part.

Then he nodded again. “Fair.”

Alice exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Fine.”

Quin clapped his hands once, delighted. “Excellent. I already had a room prepared.”

She groaned. “Of course you did.”

He grinned. “West wing. Balcony. Private training space. Soundproofed.”

She paused. “…Soundproofed?”

Quin’s grin widened. “I know my children.”

Alice buried her face in her hands. “This was a mistake.”

He laughed, smoke curling upward as the palace seemed to hum around them. “Welcome home, Alice. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

She looked up at him, expression caught somewhere between resignation and resolve.

(Temporary. Just temporary.)

She hoped.