"You!" Catherine screeched, stumbling forward. Her withered, wrinkled hands clawed at the air as she dragged her bruised body across the marble floor. Her grimoire floated weakly beside her, glowing with a faint, sputtering gray light.
She aimed her trembling, aged fingers toward the table, her eyes wide with a manic, desperate hunger.
"Give it to me!" Catherine screamed, her raspy voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I need it! Give me all of it right now! Give it to me so I can be beautiful again!"
Charmy froze.
A large, perfectly roasted chicken leg slipped from her greasy fingers, landing on her plate with a dull thud.
The small girl slowly stopped chewing. She swallowed the massive mouthful of food with a loud gulp. She blinked her large, dark eyes, looking from the screaming, desperate old woman crawling toward her, to the massive spread of cakes, pies, and meats covering the table.
In Charmy's mind, there was only one logical conclusion to draw when a stranger screamed "Give it to me!" while pointing at her table.
The old lady wanted to steal her food.
The cheerful, gluttonous, carefree aura surrounding the small Black Bull vanished instantly, as if blown away by a freezing wind.
Charmy slowly stood up on her chair. Her fluffy sheep cooks stopped moving, turning their heads to look at the intruder.
The atmosphere in the room took a sudden, terrifying dive. The ambient mana around Charmy, which had been warm and playful just a second ago, suddenly spiked into something dark, incredibly heavy, and profoundly serious. A dense, shadowy aura began to leak from her small frame, completely overshadowing the dust and smoke of the ruined wall.
Charmy glared down at the withered witch, her eyes narrowed into dangerous, unblinking slits. The innocent, hungry girl was gone, replaced by a territorial predator protecting her absolute most prized possession.
"You want..." Charmy whispered, her voice dropping an octave, echoing with a chilling, demonic resonance. "...my food?"
Catherine stopped crawling. The intense overwhelming density of the dark mana rolling off the tiny girl sent a spike of genuine fear through the witch's aged heart. She realized, entirely too late, that she had chosen the absolute worst possible target in the entire Royal Capital.
Meanwhile, high outside in the darkening sky, Yuno was soaring toward the noble realm on a hovering board made of concentrated wind magic. The tiny, glowing form of Sylph sat perched proudly on his shoulder, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.
Yuno's newly heightened sensory abilities were constantly scanning the city below, mapping the chaotic clashes of mana as the Magic Knights fought desperately to push back the undead horde. He was looking for any signs of Asta or the other squads, preparing to offer aerial support wherever the lines were failing.
Suddenly, Yuno stopped his forward momentum, hovering in place above the red-tiled rooftops. He turned his head sharply toward a tall, ornate stone tower a few blocks away.
He didn't just see the massive, gaping hole smashed through the brickwork; he felt the distinct, ugly signature of the gray magic radiating from inside it.
"The witch," Yuno muttered, his golden eyes narrowing. "She's still awake."
He had hit her with a devastating blast, but she had managed to survive the impact and was actively drawing on her magic again. If he left her alone, she would undoubtedly drain the life from whoever was trapped inside that tower to heal her wounds and return to the battlefield.
Yuno didn't hesitate. He adjusted his stance on the wind board, leaning forward as he commanded the air currents.
With a sharp, rushing howl of wind, Yuno banked sharply to the right and shot across the sky, flying directly toward the ruined tower to finish the fight he had started.
The opulent, expansive dining hall of the Royal Castle had been reduced to a disaster zone. Smashed marble, splintered mahogany tables, and crushed silver platters littered the floor. The air was thick with brick dust and the bitter, choking smell of cursed ash.
But none of that mattered to Charmy Pappitson.
The heavy, suffocating aura of dark mana that bled from the tiny Black Bull wasn't born of malice, political ambition, or a desire for revenge. It was born of something far more primal, far more terrifying. Someone was trying to steal her lunch.
Catherine, withered, bleeding, and desperate, completely failed to understand the monumental mistake she had just made. Driven mad by the rapid, horrifying return of her actual age, the witch saw only a dense reservoir of magical energy sitting in front of a table of food.
"Give it to me!" Catherine shrieked, her voice a grating, sandpaper rasp. Her wrinkled, liver-spotted hands clawed at the air as she dragged her broken body across the marble floor. Her grimoire, hovering weakly by her shoulder, sputtered with the last dregs of her gray ash magic. "I need it! Give me your mana!"
Charmy didn't move from her chair. The shadows hiding her eyes grew darker. The fluffy, bipedal sheep chefs that had been happily basting a roast just moments before vanished into puffs of white smoke, responding to the sudden, violent shift in their master's intent.
"You want..." Charmy whispered, the innocent, high-pitched tone completely gone, replaced by a low, demonic rumble that seemed to vibrate the very floorboards. "...my food?"
Catherine lunged, her hand outstretched, aiming to press her palm against the girl's forehead and drain her dry. "I'll take everything!"
Charmy didn't even stand up. She simply raised a single, tiny fist.
Her grimoire snapped open, pages turning with the speed of a hurricane.
"Cotton Magic: Sleeping Sheep Strike," Charmy stated, her voice flat and completely devoid of mercy.
The spell didn't form slowly. It erupted.
A massive, towering construct of hyper-condensed magical cotton exploded into existence between the tiny girl and the lunging witch. It took the shape of an enormous, incredibly fluffy sheep, but there was absolutely nothing gentle about the force it carried. The sheer kinetic density of the cotton construct was like a battering ram made of solid steel, wrapped in a layer of wool.
The giant sheep reared back on its hind legs and delivered a devastating, full-body headbutt directly into Catherine's chest.
The impact sounded like a cannon firing inside a closed room.
Catherine didn't even have the breath left to scream. The impact shattered her ribs instantly, the kinetic force completely overriding whatever meager defensive ash she had managed to summon. She was launched backward with terrifying velocity, her feet leaving the marble floor entirely.
She flew back the exact way she had come, tearing through the remaining debris of the broken brick wall, soaring out into the evening air, and violently crashing back into the interior of the tower. She hit a solid stone load-bearing pillar on the far side of the room. The stone cracked upon impact. Catherine slumped to the ground in a heap of torn purple fabric and gray ash, completely, utterly unconscious. She didn't twitch.
Inside the dining hall, the terrifying, demonic pressure instantly vanished.
"Phew!" Charmy exhaled loudly, the dark shadows lifting from her face. In a fraction of a second, she reverted entirely to her normal, chibi-like proportions, her eyes turning back into happy, relaxed little curves.