Big Nun wasn't faring much better than her sisters—her elegant nun's habit had been scorched and torn by Sulpharlo's flames.
Yet, no matter how battered her state, as long as she could unleash just one beam of sunlight, the entire battle could still turn in an instant!
"Argh—!"
The intense rays stung the Dark Elves' eyes, making them cry out in pain, hands flying up to shield their faces as tears streamed down.
No matter how skilled they were, forced to play the role of the "blind," they had no chance of gaining the upper hand on this battlefield anymore.
Knowing the battle was lost with no hope of reversal, the Dark Elves didn't hesitate—they turned and retreated.
Despite their withdrawal, they pulled out smoothly. Willo tried summoning vines to snag a captive or two, but ended up empty-handed.
Soon enough, the Dark Elves vanished into the black tunnels, leaving no trace behind.
Hattie released her magic, the hundred-meter radius of black mist and writhing tentacles dissipating in the blink of an eye. She herself collapsed to the ground, limp with exhaustion.
Theresa didn't pursue, dropping to the ground to check on her sisters. Thus, the battle here ended—not without wounds, and without any prisoners taken—but at least, blessedly, not a single death.
By the time Charles arrived, all he could see was a battered, utterly drained group.
It wasn't just Theresa with wounds from Sulpharlo's pursuit—Hattie's own nun's habit was punctured and bloodstained, the deep marks and trails of dark red around each gash enough to make anyone's heart race.
Nymeria and Shapiro were also visibly battered, and Willo and her daughter were painted with bruises and slices. Adele was pale as a ghost, still shaken; for all her genius, she had little experience with life-and-death combat.
Only Sophia looked relatively unscathed, having stayed with Charles and avoided the brutal close-quarters struggle. Ironically, she was the most presentable of the bunch.
Charles hurried to Hattie and pulled her into a tight embrace, murmuring, "You've done so well." Then, taking out his spellbook, he poured his spell slots into "Cure Wounds," channeling healing through his hands.
Hattie hugged him back. Charles then circled the group, casting healing on every single one of them, only finally breathing easy once everyone's wounds closed.
Shapiro's face now sported a bloody new scar, making him look even fiercer. But he ignored it, staring at Charles with desperate urgency, "How's my sister doing?"
Charles opened his mouth but only managed a sigh.
"Don't worry, she's safe now." He said. "But—uh, what's inside... Well, it might be a lot for you to take in."
A surge of dread swept through Shapiro, his voice rising, "What happened to my sister?!"
"Um… it's hard to really explain." Charles worked his jaw for a long moment, recalling the sight of a hundred half-naked, dazed Malena clones. He sighed. "Let's just say—it's complicated in there. Not, uh, really something we should handle ourselves."
He turned to Sophia. "Sophia, you've got lots of stamina left. Could you go in first? Handle things, get everyone settled, then let us know when it's clear."
With that, he turned away, leaving Shapiro pacing in anxious frustration. Charles and Hattie propped each other up and slid down by the cave wall, letting out matching, exhausted sighs.
He was dead tired. He'd been on his feet the whole afternoon, fighting for his life in a deadly duel. Now that it was finally safe to rest, weariness crashed into him like a tidal wave—he wanted nothing more than to tip over and sleep for days.
Sophia turned and walked alone into Sulpharlo's old nest. Hattie snuggled into Charles, as if simply being close to him could fill her with contentment.
Willo was very tired herself, but seeing him so worn out made her heart ache. She murmured a spell and produced ten Goodberries, handing him two before sitting down at his side to quietly wait.
Only Shapiro couldn't hide his anxiety. He was still poisoned, his stamina nearly spent, but he couldn't stop pacing the cave, worrying over his sister—too afraid to enter the lab himself, thanks to Charles's orders.
Inside Sulpharlo's laboratory—
After Hanni used her spells to clean up the spilled fluids, the hundred Malena clones each found a spot and sat down obediently in front of the experiment chambers.
Their clothes were still ragged, much of their bodies scandalously exposed—their rosy nipples and soft down all in plain sight. Yet these girls had no concept of shame; not a thought of covering themselves up even drifted across their minds.
Malena herself sat in a chair, looking at these girls with equal parts love and pity—utterly unsure how to arrange their future.
Beside her, Hanni clung sweetly to her shoulder, acting every inch the helpful assistant. But her crimson eyes darted cleverly, pupils flickering with secret thoughts—no one knew what she was really plotting.
Off in the distance, a winged figure zipped over, arms full of bags—Sulpharlo's very first Dark Angel, who'd been with Malena for ages and who'd been the one to backstab Sulpharlo earlier.
Landing at Malena's side, she set down the bundles, "I brought all the clothes I could find, but this is everything… I didn't actually count them."
Malena gave a soft sigh, "Well, we'll just have to make do."
She turned and gently called, "Everyone, come here."
The girls rose and circled her chair, crowding around. Malena bent down, unwrapping the bundles to find a mishmash of clothes—every style and size, even some men's attire.
Piece by piece, she handed out clothing, starting with the Dark Angel closest to her, dressing each one in turn. Hanni and the first Dark Angel pitched in, carefully helping everyone slip into something—however ill-fitting—at least covering their most vulnerable parts.
With their bodies hidden at last, the Dark Angels' fear started to ease, a small sense of security blooming as they huddled closer and closer to Malena—like a nest of kittens, or infants desperate for their mother.
Seeing them like this tugged hard at Malena's heart. No matter what, she couldn't bring herself to abandon these girls—to leave them here, alone and helpless, was unthinkable.
"Malena? Are you in there?"
A familiar female voice rang from outside. Malena's face lit up immediately—it was Sophia the nun. "I'm here, Sophia! Come on in!"
Sophia's slender shape flew into view at the laboratory doorway. But when she saw the multitude of Malenas, she froze, completely stunned, "Wait—Malena, which one is you?"
The Dark Angels all turned, nervous and wary of the new arrival. Malena, surrounded in the middle, called out, "I'm right here in the center—if you walk over, you'll see me."
Sophia moved carefully, the girls parting to make a path—at last, she spotted Malena on her chair, still pregnant and beaming.
Even with Sophia's experience, she found herself at a loss, her expression turning complicated. "Malena… how did you end up like this?"
Malena sighed, "It's a long story—one we can share later. Sophia, do you have any extra clothes? Can we help dress the rest of the girls first, and talk afterward?"
Sophia nodded, pushing down her confusion, and took a few spare sets from her Bag of Holding to help dress the still-naked nuns.
Malena looked anxious, troubled by deep worry. After a silent moment, she suddenly said, "Sophia, if I asked Priest Charles… to care for my clones…"
"Do you think he'd agree?"
Shy and uncertain, she truly did not know. To her mind, Charles was a man with so much on his plate—how could she ask him to turn his hard-won home, and the savings he worked so hard to collect, over to housing a hundred mouths that brought no tangible benefit at all?
She didn't want to trouble him, and so her heart was uneasy.
She didn't realize she was far too close to the issue to see it clearly.
~~~
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