[Ding! Main Quest Triggered: “Three-Inch Kingdom”]

[Quest: “Protect the people of Mida Village from outside harm.”]

The familiar System chime rang in her head, a winter bell in cold wind. Nana Toki stood at the edge of farmland, plot for this plane loaded, breath settling like frost on iron.

She’d crossed again—woke inside a new body.

She touched the veins on her blood-streaked arm, skin like torn maple. Her gaze swept the fields, then she drew a long breath. Earth smelled steady, like dusk after rain.

Everything would start over.

“Big Sis Bingtang!”

Sudden. Child voices braided together like sparrows bursting from a hedge. Nana Toki turned on instinct. Far off, a gang of little terrors ran as a pack, dust kicking up like powder smoke.

“What are you doing out here?”

She knew them—kids from Mida Village. Not like the kingdom brats behind stone walls. These village kids clung to the original host like ivy on brick.

Even with a terrible Demon Hand on her arm, they never scared.

They thought the way the original host used that Demon Hand to smash bandits was cool. Fireworks cool.

These four worshiped her most.

Any chance, they’d team up and come play.

Word spread she’d go to the nearby town for supplies today. They sprinted over, yelling for Nana Toki to take them along.

But she had no plan to leave the village today. A prickle ran under her skin like a drawn bowstring. The plane’s plot kill lay just beyond the gate. Clear that landmine first, then run errands.

Otherwise the Main Quest would be a certified fail.

“Mm. I’m not going out this afternoon. I’ll stay a few days, then head out.”

She tossed the excuse like a flat stone over water. She’d finish the plot kill, then chase the things she wanted.

Besides, the Protagonist Lord would be coming to Mida Village. Missing that would be throwing gold in a ditch.

“Eh? Big Sis Bingtang, why? Why not go?”

Their faces fell in sync, little moons covered by cloud.

“I did farm work all morning so Dad would let me go with you. Now it’s sunk.”

“Same, same. Me too.”

They bunched up, cheeks puffed, eyes wet—like she’d wronged them at spearpoint.

“Alright, alright. Drop the funeral faces. I’ve got a reason.”

Exasperation prickled like nettles. Nana Toki waved them closer, pulled them into a tight knot, and told them: bandits might hit the village in the next few days.

She stressed the message came from the kingdom side. The four froze mid-breath. Even their sulky look ran off like ink in rain.

“But if Big Sis Bingtang’s here, we’re not scared.”

“Yeah! You’re super strong. Bandits go down in a few hits, right?”

Nana Toki: “...”

They hadn’t felt the weight. Words snagged in her throat like thorns. How to spell it out?

These were bandits with Demon Hands. If it were that easy, she’d have raided their nest already.

She wouldn’t sit in Mida Village waiting for wolves to knock.

Helpless, Nana Toki took the four to the village elder and laid it out, hard and clear.

Thankfully, the elder was sharp. He spread the word fast like wind through reeds, and ordered all villagers to stay inside this afternoon.

For those already up the mountain, the elder went himself, brought them down, and briefed them.

Soon, everyone was back within Mida Village.

Watching doors shuttered tight, Nana Toki let out a breath she’d held too long. It fogged the air like winter.

Everyone was in. Next, she just had to cut down whoever came.

She didn’t know the enemy’s exact weight. But with experience from the cultivation plane, if they weren’t crushingly stronger, she could use bodywork, strike from surprise, and finish it.

Before that, she had to feel out this body.

The original host carried ice in her blood—an element passed down since the Human Emperor’s era. In the kingdom, she was the only ice-element mage. Rank: apprentice. Punch: stronger than many formal mages.

She’d also been infected by the Ghost-Spike plague and gained a Demon Hand’s boon. Her strength turned brutal, like winter floodwater.

In the original plot, she used the Demon Hand’s blessing to butcher every Ghost God cultist who tried to slaughter Mida Village.

Nana Toki figured if the original went all out, trading life for life, anything short of an archmage couldn’t pin her.

But now it was Nana in that skin. Even wearing a mage’s badge, something in her rebelled. A mage who couldn’t face-hug a tank, go full berserker, and backstab? Wrong on principle.

A real mage should be a thousand-blood assassin who casts Blade Storm. That’s the dream.

System: “...”

Backstab...

Could you not change class by yourself? This System gets headaches. You’re a mage; use magic!

Blade Storm? You don’t even have a sword!

I don’t. You can sell me one.

Nana Toki’s face stayed straight as lacquer.

System: “...”

While the System wondered if she was cursing it again, the ground under Nana Toki—now a ways from Mida Village—flared. A vast red star-marked array bloomed under her feet. Next heartbeat—

The array blazed. A deafening blast roared from its center. Smoke clawed up like a dragon. Dirt and gravel burst outward in a dark rain.

So fast. Already here.

She slipped the killbox by a hair. She didn’t retreat. She drove the elements in her body like Spirit Energy and sprinted for the men hiding behind trees.

They hadn’t expected that. Shock stuck to their faces like wet clay.

Only when Nana Toki’s right hand raised a rapier of solid ice—clear as river glass—and lunged did they kick their elements awake to counter.

Too slow.

“Puh!”

Blue-white light flashed. The man in front didn’t even form a thought. A beat later, scarlet leaped from his throat like a fountain.

“Puh, puh, puh!”

Her ice blade blurred to near-invisible. The others had only just tugged at the iron swords on their belts. The first target was already reduced—head still wearing a mask of shock—while the body fell in chunks, meat cut by a machine, strings of blood glue stretching and dropping with heavy thuds.

They tried to step in. Their gaze met Nana Toki’s hollow, winter-cold eyes. Fear swallowed them like a bog. Even their feet wouldn’t lift.

“Mon…monster…”

The last, a wiry man, shook like a reed, forcing the word out like stones from his mouth.

He didn’t see the truth. With their Demon Hands, they weren’t far from Nana Toki at all.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—”

More sword-light flickered. Nana Toki rolled the ice hilt and bloomed a flower of blades. The remaining men lost their throats before thought could catch up.

“Chak!”

She flicked the blade hard. Blood peeled off like rain from an eave. She took in the corpses crisscrossed in messy layers and let out a slow breath.

The original host’s raw stats lagged. But with her stored bodywork from past planes, she could still kill above her weight if the enemy got sloppy.

Still, a sword didn’t hit like her beloved axe.

The blade felt too light; the impact didn’t land like an axe-bite.

She eyed the ice sword formed from her inner element. Thoughts pooled like ink.

If Axe-chan could do Blade Storm too, that’d be perfect.

System: “...” Could you stop fixating on Blade Storm? You’re a mage! A mage!

A staff-wielding, spell-throwing mage!

I know. That’s exactly the mage I dream of being!

Nana Toki’s face stayed solemn and cute—a ribbon over a bomb.

System: “...”

Fine. This host likes fancy moves.

She bent to drag the bodies, ready to clean up and leave. Sudden shift—the corpses of those Ghost God cultists with Demon Hands erupted with a violent aura. Instinct bit. She raised the sword, ready to smack the corpses for safety.

Next moment, that fierce aura rushed into Nana Toki’s Demon Hand, like smoke into a bell jar. Surprise tightened her chest. Then the aura vanished, swallowed to the last thread near her Demon Hand.

What…was that?

She looked at the Demon Hand gripping her ice blade. The red ran deeper now, like thick wine.

She felt it clearly. Her Demon Hand was stronger than before it drank that aura.

Could Ghost God believers infected by the Ghost-Spike plague grow their Demon Hands by killing each other?

The thought crawled up, strange as a spider in a sleeve.

Bad news. Her brows knit like a loom.

If that guess was right, she was in danger now.

This world had no shortage of the infected. If they targeted those with Demon Hands and went hunting, her staying in Mida Village was risk with teeth.

News of her Ghost-Spike exile to Mida Village was known across the kingdom. If it drew people eager to kill her, not just her—but everyone in Mida Village—would stand in the wolf’s mouth.