Alright—Nirael’s sincerity came like warm tea in winter, rich and steady, with rewards bright as gold and worries peeled away like husks.

Even Lucimia felt a tug; if she kept refusing, it’d sound wrong, like arguing with rain about being wet.

But she wouldn’t jump in; her heart stayed knotted like a tightened cord, and she kept thinking.

“Before I promise,” she said, voice cool as moonlight on stone, “tell me how I’m supposed to help.”

The mouse heard Lucimia’s tone soften a hair. It let out a breath like steam, then tightened its little face, voice taut as a drawn bow. “The smoke’s about to gather again. I’ll keep it short.”

“The Dark Deity of curses, Ment, has a fatal flaw—its curses need time, not instant bite. Truth is, my plague Authority Power is the same. But I can accelerate time, so that flaw gets buried like a seed in spring.”

“You wonder when you got cursed, so Lev could swap injuries. I can tell you—when he first used the Cross to forbid your magic, the curse fell like ash.”

“So that’s it.” Lucimia nodded, the answer sliding into place like a blade into its sheath.

“By that logic,” the mouse went on, eyes glinting like coals, “Ment needs a heavy settling of smoke to stop me from breaking the wall. Smoke triggers the curse; the curse needs time. If it’s allowed to pool, my worms and mice melt like wax, or turn into puppets. That giant worm earlier? I forced it free like tearing silk; otherwise I couldn’t have saved you.”

“My ask is simple—use Reversion to keep the smoke from settling. Four days. If it doesn’t fully sediment within four days, my worms break the wall first. That’s enough.”

Nirael finished, words falling like pebbles into a still pond.

Lucimia listened, then touched her chin, thoughts circling like lanterns in fog. “I’ve got three questions.”

“Ask.”

“First—how do the worms break a wall?”

“They spit corrosive liquid, sharp as acid rain. It dissolves the wall and the Magic Array etched on it.”

Lucimia nodded, the image clear as ink.

“Second—you say I need to help you break the wall. But before my first Reversion, the beasts did invade the town. Your plan didn’t fail. So whether I help or not shouldn’t matter, right?”

“No.” The mouse shook its head, whiskers twitching like grass. “Did you see the wall actually break?”

“Uh… I don’t think so.” Lucimia searched her memory like turning pages. She’d only seen beasts raging in the town, and Lev still fighting, blade flashing like lightning.

Wait. Lev was still fighting? Right—if he was still in the fray, the sides were still locked, no final outcome.

Seeing her eyes clear like water after rain, the mouse chuckled. “Heh. So you didn’t witness it. That means I still need your help.”

“Alright.” Lucimia dipped her head. “Third question. How do I stop the smoke from settling and gathering?”

“…”

The mouse didn’t answer. Silence fell like dust.

“What’s wrong?” Lucimia pressed, voice a soft knife.

“Truth is… I don’t have a way to stop it.” The mouse lowered its head, ears drooping like wilted leaves.

“??” Lucimia blinked for a few seconds, then found her voice. “You don’t even have a concrete plan?”

“No.” The mouse raised its head, brazen as a stray cat. “If I knew how, I wouldn’t need you.”

“You… make a fair point.” Lucimia sighed, the sound thin as wind through reeds.

So it wouldn’t be easy. To take the reward, she’d have to pay with real skill, like coin on the table.

“Fourth question.”

“Go on.”

“What happens after the wall is broken?”

She had a guess, shadowy as smoke, but she wanted to hear Nirael say it.

“After the wall…” Nirael’s tone shifted, falling heavy like dusk, helplessness pooling like rainwater.

“After the wall’s broken, swarms of worms and mice will rush across the Empire’s lands. They’ll eat every living thing they pass—leaves, flowers, cats, dogs, cattle, sheep, and… residents. They’ll feed me the energy I need.”

“…” Lucimia fell silent, her gaze clouded like a covered mirror.

“Eh? Wait, what?” Desty, who’d been listening at the side, finally stepped forward. Her boots clicked sharp as beads. “What do you mean, eat every living thing?”

“...The literal meaning,” the mouse said, flat as a stone.

“How’s that different from a Dark Deity? You said you weren’t one. Sounds like you’re tricking us into killing to soak up power.”

“I’m not a Dark Deity.” The mouse’s voice was iron. “I’m doing it to kill Ment. I have no other way.”

“You can’t threaten the whole nation,” Desty shot back, anger bright as steel. She drew her sword, the blade leveled at the mouse like a line of frost.

Maybe the delay had dragged too long, and the smoke’s slow gathering pressed like a tightening net. The mouse’s temper flared, hot as sparks. “I’ll say it again—I’m not lying! I have to absorb energy to face Ment! Hah, you say you don’t want them sacrificed—do you think I want it? There’s no choice. If you could kill Ment, I wouldn’t do this. Can you? If I don’t take energy to fight Ment, Ment will wipe out the nation sooner or later. How’s that not clear to you?!”

“I…” Desty bit down, teeth clenched like a locked gate. She knew the logic, but the weight of lives piled up like stones made her chest ache.

When Desty fell quiet, the mouse turned to Lucimia. It knew her choice would be the hinge, the door’s true swing.

“Knowing all this, will you still help me? My true body and Ment’s aren’t here. I’m only possessing this mouse. You’ll need to leave here and travel to the Empire’s Royal Capital Luo. With your help, we can steer the mice and worms like a river guided by banks—make them move in a single line, and we’ll cut casualties down.”

“Hmm…” Lucimia lowered her head, fingers on her chin, thoughts ticking like beads. “So you want me to actively kill people?”

“…You too?” The mouse stared, shocked as if doused with cold water. It had listened to Lucimia and Desty earlier. Lucimia chose to abandon the town and run. That should mean she wasn’t like Desty—too ideal, too tender, a bit indecisive.

Seeing the mouse’s surprise, Lucimia guessed its thoughts. Her voice came calm, cool as night air. “I’m different. I’m just selfish. Other people’s lives don’t touch me, unless they drag in me or mine. I’m not good, not bad. So I won’t take the first swing at innocents.”

“I won’t oppose you doing it for energy. It’s not my business. But I don’t want to be the hand that does it.”