Chapter 45 : Release

“…”

What was this churning in her chest?

She felt… agitated.

So much that she wanted to teleport there, slaughter every last one of them, and drag Milly back.

Milly was hers.

Yet watching her embraced by another—by that Tifna—stirred something foreign inside her.

No.

She’d told herself: Stacy, you don’t need anything beyond your goal.

But when the feed showed Tifna holding Milly again—

Stacy bit her lip so hard it bled.

Wild magic erupted from her body—

And the throne—just repaired—shattered once more.

The servants beneath her remained on their knees, unthinking.

They didn’t understand.

Why was the emotionless Fell God—unchanged for centuries—now trembling with rage?

It didn’t matter. Their job was simple: repair what broke. Think nothing. Serve.

Their dull eyes stared at the goddess above—once calm, now visibly fractured.

She needed to release this pressure.

But Milly was gone.
No intruders to tear apart.

Her gaze turned outward—to the Rotwood Forest.

That night, in a village ten kilometers from the forest, sleeping villagers were jolted awake by violent tremors.

They rushed outside—thinking it an earthquake—only to see crimson fissures tearing across the sky.

Like blood-red lightning splitting the heavens.

The quakes lasted half an hour.

When they ceased, panicked villagers flooded into the church.

The eldest priest adjusted his glasses, gazed toward the direction of the storm—and fell to his knees.

“That is the Fell God’s wrath. Kneel. Beg for forgiveness.”

The villagers followed, prostrating themselves, praying for mercy.

Above the forest, Stacy floated—hand pressed to her chest.

A moment of release.

Temporary calm.

She couldn’t believe she’d lost control like this.

The sight of her possession being touched—claimed—had nearly driven her mad.

But she held back.

She wouldn’t rush.

Milly would return.

All she had to do was wait.

But waiting only made her restless again.

She gripped her chest—hard—until pain flared.

Blood dripped from her fingers.

Her hand trembled.

“Tch…”

Beneath the agitation—something else.

Unease.

Was it… because of her?

She dug her fingers deeper—flesh tearing. Blood flowing.

Then—a dry, hollow laugh.

She released her shredded chest. Her eyes went blank. Calm. Empty.

Below, the swamp was gone—replaced by a kilometer-wide ring of scorched earth.

Enough.

Release was over.

Since Tifna planned to bring Milly back to Starlight City…

Perfect.

She suddenly felt like paying a few people a visit.

“Mmm…”

Milly opened her eyes—only to find Idis sprawled across the tent, half-draped over her.

Of course. The girl thrown out last night had crawled back in. No wonder she’d woken up gasping.

Tifna wasn’t here. Must be on final watch.

Milly shoved Idis off—earning a sleepy whine before she rolled over and passed out again.

She stretched—body stiff.

For the first time, she woke without fear of punishment.

Maybe… this peace would last?

But then—she remembered.

Last night, she’d nodded. Agreed to go back to Starlight City with Tifna.

Regret surged.

Why did she give in to warmth and say yes?

She could still take it back. Walk over, tell Tifna she changed her mind.

But then—she recalled Tifna’s oath. Her determination.

And a foolish hope bloomed.

What if Tifna is strong enough?
What if she can actually defeat Stacy?
Could she… save me?

As for her demon identity—after Stacy was gone, she’d confess. Say it was all Stacy’s doing. She didn’t know why she had wings or a tail.

Surely Tifna would understand.

Holding onto that fragile dream, Milly decided—she’d see this lie through.

She pushed open the tent flap.

Tifna sat by the fire, backlit by flames.

But the spit was gone—replaced by a cast-iron pot. Inside, soup bubbled—fragrant, golden.

“Morning.”

Milly yawned. Tifna turned, smiling.

“Good morning. Mushroom soup? Snowthorn mushrooms and moonvine roots. My specialty.”

She was hungry. But as she looked into the pot—

Eyeball fungus.
Living tendrils.
The spoon diving into her mouth—

Her stomach lurched.

“No… thanks.”

“You look pale. Want me to add some lilies? Good for colds.”

But Milly stepped back—again.

Tifna set down the ladle, approached, and placed a hand on her forehead.

“No fever… but you’re really pale. Not even a bite? We’ve got one last target to hunt. You need energy.”

“Got any travel rations?”

Stacy’s “soup” had left deep trauma. Even normal mushrooms made her nauseous.

Tifna didn’t press. She pulled out dried flatbread and handed it over.

“If you choke, I’ve got water.”

Milly retreated to the edge, chewing the bland, dry cracker.

Not tasty. But compared to Stacy’s bark-like bread? A feast.

As the team woke and gathered around Tifna, laughter rose.

“Captain’s mushroom soup! Haven’t had it in ages!”
“Still the best in the empire!”
“Your cooking just keeps getting better!”

Alone in the corner, Milly chewed quietly.

Until she could face real food, she’d stick to safe rations.

But watching them laugh together—

A flicker of longing crossed her eyes.

She wanted to join.

But she crushed it instantly.

This peace was already too good.

She didn’t deserve more.

And how long could it last?