The evening after the chocolate cake feast felt almost suspiciously peaceful.
Ember boxed a few slices, handing them to Edward and Sophia as parting gifts.
"Take these for the road," she said warmly.
"You sure he's not dying anymore?" Edward teased, grinning at Nyxar.
"Apparently not," Ember muttered, still unsure how she'd gone from expecting a funeral to baking giveaways.
Edward laughed. "My, what an unexpected but welcome surprise."
He and Sophia waved their goodbyes, walking into the night. Nyxar just stared — the human equivalent of emotional buffering — before closing the door.
Operation Cleanup
What followed was… impressive. Nyxar transformed into a domestic general.
He barked orders like a seasoned commander:
"Mini Bella—lift. Mini Bear One—right flank. Mini Bear Two—sofa duty. Mini Mantis—feather extraction protocol."
Even Bug and Spirit helped, to the narrator's shock and confusion.
"Wait—Spirit and Bug are… helping?!" the narrator stammered.
"Oh, right. If they don't, Ember and Nyxar will bury them alive in ways that would make historians scream."
The operation ran smoother than silk. Not a word wasted, not a crumb left behind.
Then, as if hit by a collective Thanos snap, everyone collapsed.
Mini summons poofed out into black fog, streaming back into Nyxar's grim book.
"Ooooh, foreshadowing," the narrator muttered nervously. "Because we definitely needed more of that."
Midnight Awakening
Somewhere deep into the night, Nyxar's eyes snapped open.
The world was silent — unnaturally so.
And his eyes… weren't right.
Completely black. Not just the iris — everything.
Bug and Spirit would've screamed, but fortunately, they were unconscious.
After a blink, the eyes shrank back to normal.
Still, something in the air felt wrong.
A sound — a faint shift of weight on wooden floorboards.
Movement inside the house.
No hesitation. No words.
Nyxar's instincts kicked in like a machine restarting mid-nightmare.
Three mantises materialized in absolute silence, slipping into the dark like ghosts with blades.
Two steel bears appeared next, snorting low, their eyes gleaming like molten coins.
Nyxar gripped his dagger, every step measured, every breath calculated.
The house felt alive. Watching.
Then—one of the mantises found the intruder.
The others moved in.
Nyxar followed, silent, predatory.
And before the intruder even realized he was surrounded, a blade pressed gently against his throat.
Interruption (And Mild Panic)
The terrified boy froze.
"I—I'm not a threat! Please! I'm just running away!"
Nyxar said nothing, dragging him into the dimly lit living room.
The two bears stood guard, eyes burning with bloodlust.
The kid nearly fainted.
"Wake them," Nyxar ordered flatly.
The bears nudged, growled, and Ember stirred awake.
When the torches lit, she blinked — not from the light, but from the entire scene.
"Okay—wait—hold up," she said, staring at the setup:
One boy on the floor, one dagger on throat, two bears on standby, and a very calm Nyxar like it was Tuesday.
Bug rubbed his eyes. "What in the seven hells, man?"
It took ten minutes of Ember arguing, Spirit mediating, and Bug translating before Nyxar relented.
The dagger lowered — barely.
The boy shook, voice trembling. "I swear I didn't mean to—"
"Why are you here?" Ember asked gently.
Nyxar cut in. "Are you being followed?"
The boy blinked. "Y-yeah…"
Nyxar tilted his head. "Are they nice?"
Bug froze. "What the hell does that mean?"
Ember frowned. "Nyxar—"
Bug snapped his fingers. "Ohhh. He's looking for a reason to kill them."
Ember: "...Excuse me?"
Bug, proudly translating: "He's asking if they're bad so he can morally justify murder."
Nyxar nodded. "Exactly."
The narrator wiped metaphorical sweat.
"I'd like to remind everyone this is still technically a fantasy story, not a criminal report."
The Hunt Begins
The kid nodded again, voice small. "They—they killed my family."
Bug looked at Ember. Ember looked at Nyxar.
Everyone knew what came next.
Ember sighed. "Fine. Go nuts. But capture, not kill."
Nyxar nodded once.
The bears rumbled protectively around the group as he and the mantises vanished into the night.
The forest greeted him with whispers — grass rustling, faint heartbeats, the crunch of someone too loud to live.
He counted six.
With a silent gesture, three mantises split left.
Seconds later: faint shnick-shnick-shnick.
Three heads fell before they could even gasp.
Nyxar dropped from a tree on the fourth, dagger flashing once, clean and clinical.
Two remained — wide-eyed, stumbling.
"Mouths shut," Nyxar murmured.
The mantises obeyed, covering them before any sound escaped.
Minutes later, six bodies lay still — four permanently, two trembling.
The survivors were dragged back to the house.
Interrogation (The Hard Cut)
Nyxar ordered the bears to restrain them. The mantises patrolled the perimeter.
"Spirit. Ember. Take the boy upstairs," Nyxar said, voice flat.
Spirit's light flickered nervously. Ember didn't argue.
They led the kid upstairs, Spirit muttering a small silence charm around the room.
"You don't want to hear what's coming next," she whispered.
They sat him down, gently coaxing him to talk about anything — favorite food, where he came from, if he liked cake.
Anything to keep his mind off the sounds downstairs.
Because downstairs—
"Well," the narrator said, voice trembling, "Bug and Nyxar began their... let's call it a discussion session. I'd tell you what happened next, but we'd lose our publishing rights, half our audience, and maybe a few limbs."
He coughed. "Let's just say: compared to them, history's worst looked like a couple of mildly rude librarians."
And then there was silence.
The night ended with Ember still awake, sitting by the door, waiting.
Nyxar eventually emerged — calm, clean, dagger sheathed.
"They won't bother anyone again," he said simply.
The narrator, sweating:
"And that's… good? I think? I'm not sure anymore. Someone please tell me this is still a slice of life story."
Scene End.