The Fuzzy Orb saw Lucimia watching and blinked, cute as morning dew on a leaf, then nuzzled her like a warm puff of dandelion fluff.

Lucimia felt it clearly, fur thick as brushed velvet, weighty as a small cat pressed against her lap.

Wait. This Fuzzy Orb came from the altar, from Olivya’s hands, like incense from a shrine—so how did it drift here?

And she had touched it, hadn’t she? Not just touched—now it was rubbing on her like a spoiled kitten—was that safe at all?

“Uwah.”

Panic surged like cold water down her spine. Lucimia yelped and jumped off the bed, trying to fling the Fuzzy Orb away.

Its tail hooked her waist like a stubborn vine on a tree trunk and refused to budge.

She reached back and grabbed its tail, fingers tight as iron tongs, and pulled with all her might.

The Fuzzy Orb didn’t move an inch, rooted like a boulder in a stream. Somehow it had strength out of nowhere.

“This little thing’s that strong?” Lucimia muttered, breath clouding like mist.

No helping it. She gathered a Wind Blade in her palm, crisp as a winter gale, and fired.

The blade whooshed out, a silver crescent like a falling leaf, and the Fuzzy Orb opened its mouth, a toothless black abyss like a moonless well.

It swallowed the Wind Blade in one gulp, then gave a tiny burp like a popped bubble, and squinted with a smile, delighted as a child tasting candy.

Lucimia froze like a deer in torchlight.

It could eat magic?

And in that smile she saw no mockery, only joy, clear as sunlight on water—like her own face when she tasted a favorite dish.

“What… is this thing?”

While Lucimia floundered, Yuna whispered, voice soft as wind through reeds, “Lucy… Sis, what’s wrong?”

“Mm… it’s just…” Lucimia scratched her cheek, thoughts tangling like fishing lines. She chose her words, then told Yuna about the altar and the Fuzzy Orb.

She left Olivya out, like hiding a name under a folded letter, and only spoke about the Fuzzy Orb.

She didn’t know why she did it; the impulse rose like a tide and carried her.

“I see…” Yuna didn’t look surprised. Her gaze drifted like a loose kite, far away.

“What is it? Yuna? Hey?” Lucimia tapped her shoulder, bringing her back like a bell’s chime.

“Ah, I-I’m fine…” Yuna waved it off, then said, “Maybe it’s… your Evil Entity, Lucy.”

“Evil Entity?” Lucimia frowned and glanced at the puff of fur.

The Fuzzy Orb blinked back at her, eyes clear like polished beads.

This ball of fluff was her Evil Entity?

It made sense. It showed no malice toward her, clinging to her like a hatchling to its mother.

And it wasn’t scary at all. It was even cute, unlike Elyssus’s octopus thing, whose shape twisted like a nightmare reef.

“Mm-hmm. Don’t all Dark Deities have Evil Entities?” Yuna nodded, sure as a hammer’s hit.

Lucimia stayed silent and studied the Fuzzy Orb again.

She poked it. The feel was catlike, plush as moss after rain.

The Fuzzy Orb cocked its head, spirit-bright like a sparrow, puzzled by her poking.

Didn’t seem that smart…

Lucimia filed that away like a note tucked under a book.

If it was her Evil Entity, then it should share a slice of her power, like a candle lit from a candle.

Could she read her own ability from the Fuzzy Orb’s tricks?

Olivya had said touching it gave power, like grasping a hilt. She’d touched it, so why did she still feel empty-handed?

Her mind held no lessons on power. She had no shape for her Authority Power, only fog.

Was she supposed to fight by throwing the Fuzzy Orb like a stone?

She thought about it, then asked, testing the current like a toe in water, “What… can you do?”

The Fuzzy Orb tilted its head again, trying to parse her words like a dog listening to thunder.

Could it not understand?

Possible. It didn’t look too bright, a lantern with a dim wick.

Forget it. Try another way.

Right then, after the world’s longest pause, the Fuzzy Orb finally reacted and sprang off her waist like a loosed spring.

“Eh?” Lucimia blurted, surprise flaring like sparks.

Was it going to show its ability? What would it be?

She stepped back two paces, clearing space like drawing a circle on the floor.

The Fuzzy Orb bounced toward Yuna on the bed, hop by hop, like a fluffy ball over stepping stones.

“Uh… what’s it doing? Wait, don’t tell me—”

Cute or not, it was still an Evil Entity. Instinct stabbed her like ice—was it going to eat Yuna?

No. Absolutely not.

Lucimia rushed after it, feet quick as drumbeats.

The Fuzzy Orb’s body stretched midair, elastic as pulled sugar. From soccer-ball size, it extended taller than Lucimia, shadow long as a banner.

Its mouth opened wide, abyssal again, and in one bite it swallowed… the bed under Yuna.

“Ah—” Yuna lost her seat and plopped onto the floor, a soft cry like a dropped cushion, hands rubbing her tailbone.

Sheets and quilts slid down like shed leaves, but the mattress and frame vanished into that mouth.

Lucimia stared, speechless as a struck bell, then let out a breath like a leaking flute.

At least it didn’t swallow Yuna. Her heart had almost flown out like a frightened bird.

She approached the Fuzzy Orb. It had shrunk back to its original size, swallowing without chewing, like stones dropping into a deep pond.

Lucimia crouched, grabbed its tail, and lifted it like a furry lantern.

The Fuzzy Orb didn’t resist. Its round eyes watched her, bright as two moons in a night pool.

“Where’s the bed? Where did you put it?” She gave it a little shake, voice tight as a bowstring.

The Fuzzy Orb shook its head, blank as a cloudless sky. No idea.

Lucimia was silent, the quiet heavy as wet cloth.

Headache rolled in like thunder. The bed was gone. How would she explain this when Miss Kaeli came knocking?

And how would she explain the Fuzzy Orb, this walking omen wrapped in fluff?

It looked adorable, yes—but any sharp eye would spot an Evil Entity at a glance.

Could it hide?

After circling that thornbush of problems, Lucimia settled on a path. Have Yuna use Reversion once, at least bring the bed back.

Yuna nodded and did it, the air rippling like water reversed in a basin. When Lucimia opened her eyes, wonder struck like lightning.

She and Yuna were lying on the floorboards.

The soft, generous bed was simply gone, erased like chalk in rain.

Lucimia scrambled up. A floor pallet had been laid out, neat as a mat in a shrine, but the bed had vanished.

She rubbed her eyes, disbelief thick as fog in her chest.

“Where’s the bed? The bed I’ve slept on for so long?” Her voice drifted hollow, like wind through an empty room.

“What… bed?”

Yuna sat up too, confusion on her face like ripples in a still pond.

“Huh?” A wrongness prickled Lucimia’s skin like cold needles.

Yuna looked like Ritch had, back when she killed Cole—blank as a page rewritten.

“The bed. There used to be a bed here. We were sleeping on it,” Lucimia explained, words careful as stacking tiles.

“I… don’t remember,” Yuna whispered, small as a mouse. “We’ve… always used floor pallets, right?”

Lucimia’s mouth opened, then closed, the silence thick as syrup.

Understanding dawned slow and bright, like sunrise over frost.

This… was Lucimia’s Authority Power.