Boom, boom—!

Two thunderclaps ripped through the forest. Birds burst from the canopy like torn paper; beasts scattered like leaves in a gale.

Even after the sound faded, the air showed two gouged streaks, and the trail was littered with snapped and flung branches.

No doubt—two brutal sniper shots.

Shelika’s marksman drone had fired them, aiming for the wyvern’s horns. Both shots hit home.

Yet even with solid hits, the horns didn’t drop as she’d pictured. Seconds crawled by. Nothing fell.

Instead, the ambush snapped the wyvern’s temper like a dry twig.

It tracked the lines of force and found two Blood Clan figures on a far hill, staring like hungry hawks.

It shrieked, wings battering the air, and hurled itself at them.

“Damn, we failed,” Shelika said, unwilling to accept it.

She knew the drone’s bite. In her past life, that firepower punched clean through a 10 mm armored plate.

Were those horns harder than steel? For a breath, she was puzzled.

“Uh-oh! It’s coming!” Charlotte yelped, panic flaring.

As she said, the wyvern was about to strike.

It wasn’t on top of them yet, but in flight its breath rose and fell. Fire licked at its lips like foxfire, the heat thickening, danger prickling.

No doubt—it was about to breathe flame. They both saw it.

Too late. The wyvern had finished charging its breath.

It halted, hovered, lifted its head, sealed its jaws.

One heartbeat of gathering—and then it spat forward.

Fwoom!

A fireball like a small sun came roaring for the hilltop.

Shelika felt primal danger in the scorching wave. Charlotte, though, stepped forward, wavering yet stubborn.

“Danger!!” Shelika shouted.

She kicked her liftoff technique, ready to haul Charlotte skyward.

Before she could, Charlotte took a few dogged steps, eyes set like flint.

“I’ll protect my lady!”

Mana surged. A crimson shield bloomed before her like a blood-red flower.

The fireball hit as the shield flared.

Wham!

A storm of flame-winds tore the hilltop, heat slamming like a furnace door.

The fiery gale thinned as its heat bled out, leaving a bald, charred crown of rock.

High in the air, Shelika kept her voice steady. “She blocked it.”

When the smoke peeled away, a single unburned patch remained.

Charlotte stood there beneath her shield.

“Hmph, that’s all you’ve got?” Charlotte grinned, unscathed.

She snapped off a few bolts of spell-lightning, scoring shallow wounds on the wyvern’s hide.

That only stoked its fury.

With another razor scream, the wyvern stooped straight at her.

“Useless!” Charlotte giggled, and cast a physical barrier, planning to tank the blow.

As the barrier formed, the wyvern’s horns flared hotter, like sunrise on ice.

A field that unravels spells, Shelika thought, alarm jolting through her.

Charlotte’s bad habit bit at the worst time. She missed the way the air’s texture changed under that light. She kept giggling. “Wah-ha-ha—”

Halfway through the laugh, the field took hold.

Her “unbreakable” screen shattered like thin ice.

The dive never stopped.

With nothing left to block it, Charlotte went gray. The grin died. Panic slammed in. She dropped into a squat, arms over her head. “No no no no, don’t—!!”

“Idiot!” Shelika snapped, furious and helpless.

Too far to reach her in time. The wyvern’s talons were about to pulp her.

Then Shelika saw it: the hilltop under Charlotte was a sheer cliff.

She moved on instinct.

“Shoot there!” she ordered. “The ground under her!”

Boom!

The shot severed the seam where cliff met mountain.

The lip gave way and dropped.

Charlotte, standing on it, lost footing and fell, wailing as she plunged.

The wyvern’s strike cut only air. It smashed into the new rock face and crumpled, lights out on impact.

Charlotte kept falling, her scream stretching thinner as she dropped.

She was about to hit hard.

A swift shadow flashed in, and caught her clean.

“U-wooo… huh?” Eyes squeezed shut in terror, Charlotte felt the plunge stop—without the bone-breaking pain she braced for.

She peeked.

A princess carry again. She understood. “My lady, you saved me?”

“You fool,” Shelika said, anger and worry braided tight.

“Sorry…” Charlotte hunched like a scolded rabbit.

A moment later, they settled near the wyvern.

The crash had mangled it. It wobbled up from the rock, saw them, and screamed again—stubborn, challenging.

Then—crack.

A sharp, brittle snap.

Its horns fell off. Two big, glowing chunks thudded at their feet.

The loss sent pain spiking through it. Strength fled. It toppled again, a heavy, helpless flop.

No more shrieks. Only a low, pleading whine.

Charlotte’s spirits rose at once. “Let’s finish it now.”

“Wait,” Shelika said.

She stayed Charlotte’s hand. Charlotte tilted her head. “Eh? Weren’t we here to slay it?”

“No.” Shelika’s answer was blunt. She stooped and picked up the twin, gleaming horns. “This is all we need. And—”

She didn’t finish. Her eyes flicked toward the woods.

Charlotte followed her look—and froze. A hidden nest huddled in the trees.

A clutch of hatchlings stared at the fallen wyvern, eyes round with fear.

“If we kill her,” Shelika said softly, “they’ll hate humans. They’ll raid towns to avenge her.”

Charlotte blinked, puzzled. “Then why not kill them all now?”

Shelika sighed. “That’s one way.”

She didn’t take it. She tossed fruit and fresh game before the hatchlings.

After that token peace, she raised her voice, whether they understood or not. “Listen. If you nest near towns and hurt people, you’ll meet your mother’s end!”

She spared the wyvern. Instead, she hauled the mother to the den’s mouth.

Seeing her, the hatchlings tumbled out. Tiny tongues licked at her wounds.

The wyvern stared, eyes wide, unable to believe Shelika of all people would do this.

Shelika took the horns in full view, drawing a clean line under the matter.

She glanced at Charlotte, who was still staring. “Don’t space out. We’ve got the horns. Let’s go.”

Charlotte came back to herself, emotions tangled. “My lady…”

“What is it?” Shelika asked, seeing words pile up behind her lips.

That complicated look was rare on the girl.

Then she smiled. “You’re so kind, my lady.”

Shelika didn’t answer. She turned, giving Charlotte her back.

She signaled the Vanguard rig to hoist the horns, and led the way.

Her tone shifted to a cool lesson. “That’s not kindness. That’s survival wisdom.”

“Survival wisdom?”

Shelika lifted her gaze to the clear white moon and sighed. “Yes. Our country is thick with beasts. We’re fated to live alongside them.”

“You’re right,” Charlotte said, nodding.

She fell silent and trailed after Shelika.

They walked through a quiet wood.

“Do you think the same about Bailing?” Charlotte asked, voice small.

The question put Shelika on guard. It puzzled her too. “Why ask me that?”

Charlotte bowed her head. “I’m… not very smart.”

A crisp insect call rang like a pin on silk.

Charlotte looked up. “So I studied hard. Spells, and all kinds of other things, to make up for it.”

Shelika walked on and listened.

“But even then,” Charlotte said, voice going soft with hurt, “even if I’m better than most…”

“In the end, people think of things I can’t. They say things I don’t get. And when it matters, I mess up…”

“Am I useless?”

Shelika knew that ache. She stopped. She turned back, voice low as dusk. “Tell me—what kind of life do you think I’ll live?”

Charlotte met her unreadable crimson eyes and thought, long and hard. A light clicked on.

“A quiet life,” she said. Then she wavered. “Right?”

Shelika looked genuinely surprised. “Why do you think I wouldn’t race up the ladder, and would choose a pastoral peace?”

Charlotte ducked her head. She struggled, then answered. “Because sometimes… you give me that feeling.”

“I really like that about you,” she added, barely above a murmur.

“Like?” Shelika echoed.

Head bowed, Charlotte peeked up, stubborn and cute. “Is that not allowed? I admire you. So I like you.”

Shelika held that sight for a breath, then turned and walked on. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“My lady…”

Fireflies filled the forest, starry motes drifting like a soft Milky Way. The air turned gentle and romantic.

They walked without a word along a path strewn with light.

Then Shelika cut the mood on purpose. “Let’s go. We should get these horns back before dawn.”

Charlotte bounced back to her sunny self. “Okay~~!”

They reached an open space, took off, and by the first pale bite of the east they were back in Oriel City.

Back in town, Charlotte rubbed her eyes, sleepy as a little girl past bedtime.

“Sleepy?” Shelika asked.

“Mm…”

“Then head back. I’ve got errands.”

“Bye-bye, sis~~”

After parting at the inn door, Shelika rested a while too.

She didn’t sleep. Sleep didn’t come.

At noon, she went out as usual.

The hostess at the door—a matron of the Demonic Human Race—spotted the horns and whistled. “So you’re doing hunter work? Not bad.”

“Mm.” Shelika kept it short and walked out.

She opened her parasol, moved down the street like a young lady, and boarded a public beast-cart.

Outside the window, the world slid by like a slow river.

Shelika watched a world with no quarrel in it. “Am I living a quiet life now?” she murmured.

An ordinary living. Not frantic, not idle. A few simple friends. No enemy to keep her up at night. A life hushed as fresh snow.

On a calm street, she saw a woman out with two lovely daughters.

Shelika touched the glass, as if touching that picture. “Will I be like her one day?”

As she spoke, as she imagined, the world in Fulin’s eyes drifted far from herself.

A flicker of worry rose like fog; Shelika shook her head to scatter it and tapped her cheeks, a small bell of resolve. “Don’t think so much. I’ve still got a lot to do.”

The public beast-carriage pulled in soon, hooves thudding like rain, and Shelika stepped off at the Central Exchange stop.

She hefted a pair of massive horns, curved like twin crescent moons, and made for Alba Gem Shop.

The jeweler greeted her with a warm smile; then he saw what she carried, and his eyes nearly dropped to the floor. “What?! You really brought a winged dragon’s horns?!”