“No way? Did I sleepwalk and take them all out?”

This dark magic-ravaged zone was unmistakably her own handiwork—which meant last night’s dream was real.

She’d wandered out at midnight, encountered patrolling knights who mistook her for a Cult of Darkness member, attacked her… and Morningstar wiped them all out, sculpting them into eerie statues.

Piecing it together, Morningstar felt no guilt—only confusion. *Had she really sleepwalked?*

“You remember now?” Freya stepped before Morningstar. She dared not be outright rude, but her tone held a trace of accusation.

“I just had a dream… they attacked me, so I…” Morningstar shrugged helplessly.

“What attack?” Freya shot back instantly. “You appeared out of nowhere! They only asked who you were—and you struck without a word!”

“Is that so? Then I’ll take your word for it…” Morningstar nodded. She couldn’t verify Freya’s account. The deed was done. That one survivor remained felt like a small mercy.

“Sleepwalking? Heh… Never thought I’d be one.”

After two such dreams, Morningstar guessed she acted unconsciously while asleep—her body steered by primal instinct. No wonder her actions turned… ruthless.

“So the me in dreams… is the true Dark Sorceress.”

Morningstar reflected: awake, she’d hesitate to kill without cause, and never so cruelly. But as the Dark Sorceress? Not a flicker of mercy. Strength, gender, age—none mattered. All died, reforged into exquisite statues.

“Sigh… Hope that girl didn’t see my face. If she did… maybe send her to reunite with her friends.”

Morningstar raised a hand. Freya lunged to shield Leticia, thinking she’d strike the last survivor.

Morningstar shot her a glance, then cast a spell. A black hole bloomed in her palm. The black snow around them—yanked by immense gravity—ripped from the ground and swirled into her grip.

Erasing all traces of the Dark Sorceress. Morningstar wouldn’t let anyone know she’d been here.

She withdrew her hand calmly. “Let’s go. Still a ways to travel. This woman’s useful—I won’t kill her… for now.”

Without the knights slowing them, their pace quickened. By midday, they reached a human town.

Snow-dusted streets gleamed under silver rooftops. Castle walls and medieval spires crowned the center—noble quarters. Outside, cramped wooden shacks lined filthy lanes. Trash littered the gutters. Only the bitter cold spared the stench of rot and plague.

No one glanced their way. Locals huddled deep in threadbare coats, numb to outsiders. In shadowed corners, frozen child beggars lay curled together—human ice sculptures. Morningstar had seen many since entering. A modern soul might flinch… but she showed no pity.

“Why… is it like this?” Freya murmured, bewildered. How could humans watch children freeze and do nothing?

“Could the Dark Sorceress’s revival have reignited evil in their hearts?”

“…Sis, don’t pin every black pot on me, okay?” Morningstar nearly laughed. *Their cold hearts have zero to do with me.* Classic. Blame the Dark Sorceress for everything.

“Sister… I’m hungry. Spare a coin?”

A chirping swarm of ragged children surrounded them, eyes bright with hope—outsiders might give alms.

Little Dragoness moved to intervene, but Morningstar’s sharp glance stopped her.

*Fine. Let them buy one last meal.*

Then—a hand slipped into her coat amid the jostle. Fishing for her purse.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” A boy collapsed, clutching his forearm bent at a sharp ninety degrees.

“Hmph. Such… *wholesome* local customs~”

“Master! These vermin dared touch your sacred body! Shall I end them?”

“No need. They won’t see tomorrow.” Morningstar shook her head.

“Won’t see tomorrow?” Little Dragoness whispered, then understood. *Once Master sleeps tonight… the darkness takes over. Everyone here dies.*

*At this rate… darkness will fully claim Master soon!*

“Let’s find an inn.”

Deeper in town, streets grew cleaner. No beggars. No orphans. They booked a room at a quiet inn.

“My, my… utterly exhausted~” Morningstar flopped onto the bed before anyone spoke, legs crossed lazily.

“Can the Dark Sorceress even feel tired?”

“Just too lazy to stand.” A black tendril shot from her sleeve, coiling Freya’s waist before she could react and yanking her close.

“Y-you again?! What now?!” Freya was long used to the Dark Sorceress’s whims.

“Healing you. I feel *so* guilty for hurting you.” Morningstar’s fingers traced Freya’s skin. Where they touched, wounds sealed instantly.

“Mmph! C-can you… stop?! It’s… so strange… ah…" Freya stiffened, face flushed, breath hitching from the tingling itch of healing.

“Like it?”

“N-no! I don’t!”

“How heartbreaking~” Morningstar teased. Little Dragoness’s eyes practically sparked with fury.

“Master! I’m abandoning darkness for the light!”

“What nonsense?!”

“Hmph! Thinking back… Master was *so* tender thousands of years ago, when she first corrupted me. I basked in her warmth every day! But now… now I’m a dark dragon, and Master ignores me! I don’t want darkness anymore!”