Chapter 56 – Cinder POV: Ambush
We were lucky we found the encampment when we did. As soon as the sky started to darken, we saw fire glowing through the trees—not campfire light, but magic. Unnatural. Wrong.
There were monsters around it. A lot of them. Maybe thirty or forty, but most were small—goblins, a few orcs. A couple of big ones too, like a Minotaur and something with a demon's face. I couldn't tell what it was. Whatever they were, they weren't like the monsters Master keeps. These didn't feel... safe. These were beasts. Unkind. Ugly in their souls.
Mew was clever. She slipped through the dark unnoticed while I followed closer to the prisoners. She said she couldn't see them well, but described tall figures—humanoid. I got closer. The monsters couldn't see us, but the prisoners could. One of them, a little one, waved at me. Just waved. Bold little thing.
Her name was Neva.
When she realized what we were about to do, she warned the adults. They'd been too dazed or tired to notice us. The little ones were sharp. Brave, too.
The others—the crystal mice, the cobras—were already getting into position. The cobras are hard to hide; their crystals make them glow. Some of us naga too—we shine with fire. I really think the only reason we weren't spotted was because most of the bandit-monsters were drunk off something strong. Some danced around the fires. Others slumped in their seats. One saw me—he really did—but before he could make a sound, Mew slit his throat. Quick and clean.
We kept moving. Slipping between the drunk and the passed-out, cutting down those too deep in their cups to fight back.
Then one of them saw us for real, and the fight started.
We rushed them.
Luna was first—her halberd rammed through a Minotaur's chest. It didn't kill it, but it knocked the beast back hard. She's a force. I wouldn't want to be on the other end of her blade.
Mala was there too, tearing through enemies with her fangs. She never even drew her weapon. Just bit and ripped and howled. Then there was... Meat. That one. That's the name Master gave her. Meat. A brutal naga. Feral. Violent. I don't think she follows my orders because of me. I think she does it because Luna does. She respects Luna. So, she listens. Barely.
After nearly getting my head taken off, I stopped thinking so much. Just let my instincts take over. My halberd swung through flesh and bone. Stab. Slice. Smash. Two goblins down before I even felt winded.
Then the horn blew. Loud. Ugly. A call to retreat.
The cowards tried to run.
The disciplined nagas and the crystal cobras chased them. Not the wild ones. Just the ones who listened. They came back with heads. I wish they wouldn't, but... we can't risk survivors. Not if they threaten Master. Still... the heads were unnecessary. Messy.
Then came the hard part—what to do with the prisoners.
They were strangers. Foreigners. Outsiders to our dungeon. I didn't see the point in helping them. They weren't naga. Weren't crystal-touched. Didn't look like Nike. Didn't belong to the tribes Master cared for.
But... Master gave the order. We save them. And he promised a reward for doing so.
I wonder what that means. He said I'd get to choose the benefit for the whole dungeon. What if it's important? What if I choose wrong? That would be... bad. Maybe I should ask Nike for help. Until then, I'll do what I was told—escort them home.
When I got a good look at them... they were beautiful. Like Master, in a way. But different. Strange.
Their beauty wasn't like his. His radiates power, elegance, confidence. These elves... they were graceful, sure. Elegant even. But dull. Dull compared to him.
I don't even see why we saved them. But Master said so. That's enough.
After they were settled, their gear returned, and their wounds checked, their leader came to speak.
"Iucy Starlight. And you are?"
"I am Cinder," I answered firmly. "I am here on the orders of my Master. You will be returned to his dungeon. You will have food and shelter. Do not run. Do not fight. We killed your captors. We do not wish to harm you... but I will not disobey an order."
Her face changed. Shocked. Maybe scared. Maybe she saw monsters when she looked at us.
We are monsters, to them. I guess.
But we're also soldiers. We follow orders. We learn what Master teaches. We live how he tells us to.
I don't need to be smart like him. I'm a weapon. I fight. That's all.
The elf hesitated, then nodded. "We will comply. We won't resist. But we need time to treat the wounded. They cannot travel like this."
She spoke politely, but I heard the fear.
Master might be impatient, but I could be rewarded for bringing them back alive. Healthy. Whole.
Why risk a few deaths and his wrath?
She asked questions after. About us. What we were. Where we came from.
That part was easy. "We're monsters. From the dungeon." But when she asked where, exactly... I didn't have the right words. I only just met her. Not my fault she hasn't heard of our Master yet.
But she will. They all will.
Everyone will know of our Master. His glory. His strength. His kingdom.
And maybe… maybe I'll earn a place like Nike's. Maybe...
My thoughts turned warm. Too warm. I thought of Master's room. Of him. Of—
I snapped back to the moment.
I was not flustered. Not distracted. I just missed a few words, that's all.
She was asking about food. Supplies. Something about needing healing items. I blinked and realized something...
To us, everything around here was food.
The monsters. The Minotaur. Juicy muscles. Sure, we don't eat goblins back at the dungeon—but those are his goblins. These aren't. He gives us dragon fruit. Isabella bargains for more. But this?
This is a feast.
I think I'll start with the side of Minotaur Luna skewered.
Chapter 56.5 – Iucy Starlight POV
The Moment the Night Burned
The forest glowed with a cruel, unnatural fire—no crackling logs or dancing embers, just eerie light licking up the trunks of ancient trees. We were not alone.
From the moment dusk fell, the air turned heavy. The bandits had begun their usual debauchery, louder than ever, fueled by stolen spirits and the arrogance of monsters. I had counted thirty-two during the day, but more had come slinking in as night fell—goblins, orcs, even a horned brute with hooves like a forest god's mockery.
I had long given up hope for rescue. Most of the others had too. The children still believed in saviors; I envied them. My bones ached from sitting upright, wrists bound to the stake behind me. The rope had eaten away at skin long since blistered and torn. My ears twitched when I first heard it—movement, unnatural silence against chaotic noise.
At first I thought it was madness. One of the children—Neva—looked into the dark with wide, shining eyes and waved. To nothing. But the air shifted. Something was there. And for the first time in weeks, I felt the thread of fate tug.
They were not like any elves, or even humans. They moved with intent. Predatory. The first of them appeared like a shadow peeled from the firelight—silent, deliberate. One of the goblins slumped over, throat opened without a sound. Another fell, and another, until the fires flickered lower and the night roared to life with a horn.
It was chaos.
I saw a serpent-woman with gleaming fangs tear into a Minotaur like it was made of bark and not bone. Another—tall, regal in movement—skewered a bandit through the chest with a glittering halberd, her expression calm as death. There was no honor in their fighting. It was effective. It was terrifying. It was liberation.
And then they were among us.
One stood apart. Her scales shimmered like polished ember, eyes burning with disciplined fury. She looked at me like I was an insect she'd been ordered not to crush.
"I am Cinder. I speak for my master. You will be taken to his dungeon. Do not run. Do not fight."
There was no space for gratitude in her tone. No warmth. Just will.
Yet they gave us food. Returned our few belongings. Even our wounded were allowed time to rest. Strange customs, stranger company—but there was purpose behind their savagery. I could not yet tell if it was benevolence… or conquest.
Still, for the first time in weeks, I slept without chains.And dreamt not of blood, but of freedom.