The first thing I felt was cold.
Not the sharp, biting kind—but the kind that seeped in slowly, clinging to skin and bones like it had been there longer than I had. My eyelids felt heavy, my head pounding as if someone had rung a bell inside my skull and forgotten to stop.
Drip.
Drip.
Water echoed somewhere nearby.
I groaned softly and tried to sit up—
A hand shot out of nowhere and pressed gently but firmly against my shoulder.
"Don't," a voice whispered. "You're alive. Let's keep it that way."
My body froze instantly.
The voice wasn't hostile.
But it wasn't warm either.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Stone ceiling. Low. Uneven. Moss clung to the cracks, glowing faintly from reflected firelight. The air smelled damp and earthy, mixed with something warmer—metal and broth.
A campfire burned a few feet away, controlled and steady. Above it, a small portable stove balanced carefully, a dented pot bubbling quietly with something that smelled… edible.
My gaze snapped around.
"Xander—?"
Not there.
My heart skipped painfully.
I pushed myself up again despite the warning, panic flaring—
"There," the girl said flatly, nodding with her chin.
I followed her gaze.
Xander lay against the cave wall, wrapped in a cloak I didn't recognize, chest rising and falling shallowly but steadily. His daggers were stacked neatly beside him. Too neatly.
Alive.
The tension drained from my chest so fast it made me dizzy.
"…Thank god," I breathed.
"Wrong deity," the girl replied.
I looked at her properly then.
She sat across from me, legs crossed, posture relaxed in a way that felt deliberately practiced. Blond hair tied high, thick and voluminous, falling in heavy loops down her back. Her eyes were sharp—too sharp—an unsettling red that caught the firelight like polished glass.
Devilish eyes.
Not metaphorically.
System-confirmed devilish.
She looked about my age. Nineteen, maybe. Young enough to feel wrong standing between us and something like the NightOwl… yet old enough to carry herself like she'd seen worse things than we had.
She noticed me staring.
"Try not to panic," she said mildly. "You already did that part outside."
"…You saved us," I said.
She tilted her head slightly. "I prevented you from dying. Those are not the same thing."
That… shouldn't have annoyed me.
It did anyway.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"East of where you shouldn't have been," she replied. "Downward from where you almost stopped existing. Cave system runs under the ruins. Old maintenance tunnels. Monsters don't like narrow spaces."
She gestured vaguely upward. "Big wings. Bad fit."
That made sense.
Unfortunately.
I swallowed and shifted, my body protesting as dull aches flared everywhere. My mana pool felt like a scraped-out bowl—empty and sore.
"You can talk," she added, glancing at Xander. "He won't wake for a bit. You drained yourself pretty impressively."
"…Sorry," I muttered.
She blinked. "For what?"
"Dragging him into this."
Her expression changed.
Not sympathy.
Assessment.
"You didn't," she said after a moment. "He followed you. That was his choice."
I clenched my fists. "He almost died."
"So did you."
The fire popped softly between us.
She stood then, moving closer to the stove to stir the pot. The light caught behind her, and for just a second, I saw it—
The wings.
Folded. Resting. Translucent and glowing faintly gold, like stained glass pulled straight out of a fairy tale. Not magical projections.
Real.
I stared.
She noticed. Of course she did.
"Yes," she said dryly. "They're attached. No, you can't touch them. And before you ask—"
She glanced back at me, eyes narrowing just slightly.
"—I'm not an angel."
She ladled the soup into a metal cup and set it down near me.
"Drink," she said. "You're going to feel like death for the next hour. This makes it tolerable."
I hesitated.
She sighed. "If I wanted you dead, I would've let the owl finish chewing."
…Fair.
I took the cup with shaking hands and sipped.
Warm. Salty. Real.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
"…Who are you?" I asked quietly.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she sat back down across from me, resting her elbows on her knees, watching the fire like it might give her a better response.
"My name's May," she said finally. "And before you ask—no. I don't belong to a guild. I don't hunt people. I don't save everyone I see."
Her gaze lifted to meet mine.
"I saved you because you fought something you couldn't win… and didn't run when it mattered."
That felt heavier than praise.
"…What happens now?" I asked.
She smiled.
Not kindly.
"Now?" she said. "You explain why a freshly awakened magical disaster and a barely-trained assassin were stupid enough to wander into NightOwl territory."
She leaned back, wings shifting slightly behind her.
"And then," she added, eyes gleaming, "we decide whether I walk away… or make this problem worse."
Somehow—
I got the feeling she meant helping.
And that scared me almost as much as the monster.
May exhaled slowly.
Then her body shifted.
It wasn't violent. No light. No System chime. Just… control.
The extra arms folded inward first, four translucent limbs retracting seamlessly into her sides like they'd never existed at all. One moment they were there spread, expressive, looked awfully dangerous and the next they were gone, absorbed without a ripple.
Her wings followed.
The massive luminous span shrank gradually, feather-light panels of gold folding in on themselves, compressing, dimming. The glow dulled until only two small butterfly wings remained at her back—delicate, muted, barely larger than a handspan.
Too small to fly.
Too real to be decorative.
She looked… normal now.
Human.
That thought settled in my chest before I could stop it.
She is human. Mio, she is human.
The realization hit harder than I expected.
Not a summon. Not a construct. Not some divine System anomaly dropped into the world fully formed.
A person.
Like me.
Like—
The thought trailed off as she turned back toward me.
Her eyes flicked over my still-transformed form with the skirts, frills, flowing hair, wand resting lightly at my side and her brows knit together just slightly.
"…Huh," she said.
As if it was just sinking in to her that I was wearing all of this.
That was all.
Not confusion.
Not judgment.
Just surprise.
"You're… not what I expected," May added carefully.
I felt heat creep up my neck.
Right.
I hadn't detransformed.
I'd been too exhausted. Too shaken. Too focused on Xander still breathing to notice the transformation hadn't released yet.
And from her perspective—
I was a girl.
Maybe if she even knew, A magical girl.
I swallowed.
This is stupid, I told myself. Just say it.
But words caught anyway.
Instead, I stood.
The movement made May tense immediately—not hostile, but alert. One hand drifted slightly, ready to react.
"I—" I started, then stopped.
No. Not like that.
I steadied my breathing.
"Mio," I said softly. "Dim the Lights."
The world or.. the system responded.
The magic peeled away like fog burned off by morning sun. The frills dissolved into nothing. The skirt unraveled into threads of light and vanished. My long, silvery hair shortened rapidly, color darkening back to its natural fluffy white as it settled messily against my head.
The heels evaporated beneath my feet, replaced by worn leather boots, scuffed and familiar.
The wand dissolved completely, it didn't turn into it's base form, it didn't linger.
When the glow faded, I was just… me.
A cloaked white haired violent eyed boy.
A boy standing in a damp cave, clothes slightly torn, heart still racing.
Silence fell.
May stared.
Not in shock.
Not in anger.
Understanding flickered behind her eyes almost instantly.
"…Oh," she said.
I met her gaze.
Neither of us spoke.
Her eyes dropped briefly—to my hands, my stance, my face—and then back up again. Something shifted in her expression, the passive edge softening into something quieter. Respect, maybe.
Or recognition.
She turned away first.
"Your secret's safe," she said casually, like she was commenting on the weather. "I don't care what shape you fight in."
Then, after a pause—
"…Besides," she added, glancing over her shoulder, "I figured you were hiding something the moment you didn't flinch when I folded my arms wrong."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"…You too," I said.
Her wings twitched faintly.
She smiled.
Small. Crooked. Real.
"Yeah," May said. "Guess we both rolled weird classes."
Something about the way she said it made my chest tighten again.
A unique class.
Rare.
Dangerous.
Lonely.
I glanced at Xander, still unconscious, then back at her.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For saving us."
She shrugged. "Don't thank me yet."
I frowned. "Why?"
She looked toward the cave entrance, where faint echoes of distant movement still whispered through stone.
"Because," she said, eyes sharpening again, "that NightOwl didn't come this far east by accident."
The fire crackled.
"And if it found you," she continued, "then something else already knows you exist."
The cave suddenly felt a lot smaller.
May met my gaze again.
"So," she said lightly, standing up, "you want the good news… or the honest news?"
I opened my mouth.
"The honest news, please."
That was when—
"IT'S A HUGE BUTTERFLY, MIO—!!"
Xander bolted upright like he'd been launched.
His shout echoed violently through the cave, birds scattering somewhere deep in the tunnels. The campfire flickered wildly, shadows jumping across the stone walls.
He froze.
Blink.
Blink.
His eyes locked onto May.
Then her wings.
Then back to me.
Then back to her.
"…Why," he said slowly, hoarsely, "is there a butterfly girl in our cave."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Good," I muttered. "You're alive."
Xander turned to me. "I was dead just now."
"No," I corrected. "You were dramatic."
He looked offended. "I got sound-waved into a wall by a nightmare owl."
"I know," I said flatly. "I was there. I got launched too."
His gaze flicked back to May, who was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, head tilted slightly like she was trying to decide if he was dangerous or just loud.
"…And she's real," Xander added.
"Yes."
"And you're talking."
"Yes."
"And she saved us."
"Yes."
"…Okay," he said after a long pause. "Cool. Cool cool cool."
He slumped back down, rubbing his face with both hands.
I exhaled and crouched beside him, lowering my voice. "You blacked out after the NightOwl hit us. She intervened. Carried us here. You missed… a lot."
Xander peeked through his fingers. "You transformed."
I stiffened.
"…You saw that part?"
"Enough," he said. "Didn't comment. Didn't ask. Didn't die."
I nodded once. Fair.
He rolled his shoulders slowly, wincing. "Also—just so you know—I felt Master Assassin cap out."
I glanced at him. "Cap out?"
"Yeah," he said grimly. "It drags my stats up toward the enemy, but it doesn't erase the gap. It's like… diminishing returns. Past a certain level difference, it just stops scaling."
That explained it.
Even buffed. Even pushed.
The NightOwl had still been too far above us.
I clenched my fist, then forced myself to relax. Dwelling on maybe wouldn't help. We were alive. That mattered.
May cleared her throat softly.
Both of us looked up.
She had moved closer to the fire, crouched comfortably, arms resting on her knees. In the firelight, her devilish eyes reflected gold instead of red, and she looked… almost normal. Too normal, considering what I'd seen her do.
"You wanted the honest news," she said.
Xander straightened immediately.
I nodded. "Go on."
She didn't sugarcoat it.
"The NightOwl is tracking you," May said calmly. "Both of you. I don't know how—skill, scent, System mark, something else—but it locked on. It followed you east, confirmed your position, and then disengaged."
Xander frowned. "Disengaged?"
"It went back west," she replied. "Not retreating. Repositioning."
The words sent a chill through me.
"So it's… hunting us," I said.
"Yes."
Simple. Clean. Terrifying.
"And the good news?" Xander asked carefully.
May smiled—sharp, but not unkind.
"You're closer to the Big City than you think."
I stiffened.
"How close," I asked.
She gestured vaguely eastward. "Two days. Maybe less if you don't run into trouble."
Xander let out a shaky laugh. "That's… that's really good news, actually."
"It is," May agreed. "Resources. Intel. Guild interference, sure—but also protection."
I stared into the fire.
The NightOwl had returned west.
The Big City was east.
Two paths.
One chasing us.
One waiting for us.
"…Then we don't linger," I said finally.
May's eyes flicked to me. "You're still going?"
I met her gaze. "I didn't come this far to turn back."
She studied me for a long moment.
Then she smiled again—this time wider.
"Good," May said. "Because if you're heading there…"
She stood.
"…you might want a guide."
Xander blinked. "Wait, you're coming with us?"
She shrugged, wings twitching faintly. "For now."
I didn't know if that made things safer.
But I knew one thing.
The story had just gotten a lot bigger.