Chapter 22 : These Little Mice Aren’t Nearly as Fun as My Milly

Stacy materialized from the shadows.

Normally, when little mice like this dared to trespass, she’d toy with them—slowly—until their faces twisted into perfect masks of agony.

Only then would she grant them a gruesome end.

But this one had dared to interrupt her fun.

A tendril coiled around the round, severed head.

Her beautiful eyes flashed with irritation.

With a squelch, she squeezed.

Like a rotten melon bursting, crimson fluid and milky brain matter exploded into the air—blooming into a grotesque, crimson flower.

She hadn’t held back.

Blood splattered her gown.

But unlike Milly’s sweet, intoxicating blood, this foul red repulsed her.

It nearly ruined her favorite dress.

A quick cleansing spell—gone.

The stain vanished.

So did her disgust.

Compared to previous intruders, this one was weaker.

But smarter.

She plucked the teleportation scroll from his stiff fingers.

So close to using it.

Pity. Too weak to even activate it.

If Agnes had tried the same…

Well, that might have caused a minor inconvenience.

But only minor.

A flick of her wrist.

Fire consumed the scroll.

Useless to her.

But if Milly got her hands on it?

Unacceptable.

With the pest dealt with, she’d return to her precious one.

Her mood had been ruined—

But she could start over.

Then—

The eyeball vine delivered new images.

Ah.

Not just one mouse.

There were others—waiting in the forest beyond the castle.

“Looks like there’s more than one little mouse.”

She gazed at the headless corpse dangling from the ceiling.

She’d discard it anyway.

But why not deliver it?

Just tossing the body… too dull.

Her eyes flicked to the red pulp on the floor.

Essential.

She remembered the expression on his face—fear.

A tendril of dark mist coiled from her fingertip, shaping itself—

Into a perfect replica of his head.

Externally flawless.

But the expression—amplified.

Twisted into pure, paralyzing terror.

Perfect.

With the body and head—reunited—she’d deliver a gift to the remaining three mice.

“An… Angus is dead?”

Lily collapsed, sobbing.

The head—his head—was still on.

Frozen in horror.

As if he’d seen true terror.

“Run!”

Blake grabbed her arm, yanking her up.

The vines blocking their path earlier had been cleared.

If they moved fast, they could escape.

But the moment they stepped into the mire—

Thick, bowl-sized tendrils erupted from the swamp.

“Get back!”

Blake swung his greatsword.

They were just soft flesh—they should shatter.

But instead—

The tendrils wrapped around the blade.

“Let go!”

He pulled—hard—even releasing Lily’s hand to grip the hilt with both hands.

But the tendril yanked back.

The sword ripped from his grasp—flung into the depths of the swamp.

“No…”

It was just tentacles.

He’d fought monsters like this before.

Why was this different?

He stared at his empty hands—

Then—

A whistle in the air.

Too fast to dodge.

“I’LL BLOCK IT!”

Calvin leapt, shield raised.

Golden light exploded around him—his Holy Barrier activated.

His armor gleamed like divine steel.

A fortress.

Unbreakable.

He was a Gold-tier Knight.

Not as strong as the Platinum Saints of the Church—

But with this ability, he should survive.

“Pffft!”

The barrier shattered like glass.

The tendril pierced the sacred shield—then him.

The dripping tip hovered inches from Blake’s pale face.

Just a little further—it would have split his skull.

It was just tentacles.

Why was it this strong?

He tried to retreat—

But the tendril lifted, raising the impaled Calvin three meters into the air.

He wasn’t dead.

Muffled screams echoed from within his helmet.

The sound shredded Blake’s mind.

He wanted to run.

He even thought—throw Lily to them.

Buy himself time.

But then—

The tendril swelled.

Exploded.

Calvin’s body burst—a rain of blood and gore falling like crimson hail.

“No… no…”

Angus’s death had broken Lily.

Now Calvin—ripped apart before her eyes.

She couldn’t even raise her wand to avenge him.

“Blake! Wait—don’t leave me!”

Her plea turned to a shriek.

But Blake ran.

He didn’t get far.

From the mire beneath him—

A tendril speared upward—through his body.

Before he could scream—

It expanded.

His body burst—a gorgeous bloom of blood and viscera.

Hot blood splattered Lily’s face.

She could feel the warmth—his warmth—still clinging to her skin.

“No… no… no…”

After watching three companions die—

Her mind shattered.

She wanted the tendrils to end her.

But she feared death.

She regretted coming.

Regretted not stopping Blake.

Then—

A cold voice cut through the silence.

“Little mouse… now you’re the last one.”

Space warped.

A figure stepped forward.

Her.

It was her.

Of course.

No wonder Calvin and Blake died in an instant.

No wonder Angus’s stealth and speed failed.

The moment they entered this land—

Their fate was sealed.

Lily couldn’t move.

Couldn’t resist.

But Stacy didn’t kill her.

Instead, tendrils coiled around her body.

“Tell me, little mouse… who sent you?”

But Lily was broken.

She couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t even try.

Stacy’s eyes dimmed with disappointment.

She’d kept her alive to savor her suffering.

But she’d collapsed too quickly.

Not nearly as fun as her Milly at home.

A tendril plunged into Lily’s skull.

A flash of pain—then emptiness.

She felt something draining from inside her.

“D-don’t…”

The plea died in her throat.

When Stacy withdrew the tendril—

Lily’s body withered—a desiccated husk.

Discarded.

Let the mire swallow her.

How many corpses had this swamp consumed?

Stacy didn’t remember.

Who counts the ants they crush?

Lily’s memories flooded into Stacy’s mind.

She sifted through—extracted what she needed.

Discarded the rest.

After reviewing the key memories—

A cold smirk curled her lips.

“Empire rats… never learn fear, do they?”