The Queen lunged forward.
Her massive mantis-like form was concealed in a thick shroud of mist her subjects had created. I used the roots to sense the vibrations of her movements.
I felt her heavy steps circle around me.
She appeared from the mist, mandibles spread wide enough to swallow my core whole. Six clawed legs stretched toward me like desperate fingers.
I did not flinch.
Roots erupted from the earth in a wall before me. The queen crashed through them as if they were twigs, chitin splintering wood without slowing. But that moment of resistance bought me time.
I extended my threads into every root, every branch, every living thing within my domain. The trees groaned. The ground trembled. And from a dozen directions, thick roots coiled around the queen's legs.
She screeched, a sound that rattled my core and sent the smaller Mist Scales scattering.
She's strong. Stronger than anything I've faced. But strength without intelligence is just brute force.
The queen tore free from three roots, but two more took their place. I wrapped her limbs, her thorax, her mandibles. She thrashed, and I felt my hold weakening.
If I cannot hold her, I cannot drain her.
I needed more.
I reached deeper into the earth, into the roots of the oldest trees, the ones whose tendrils stretched for miles. Their power flowed into me, and I pushed it back out, commanding the forest itself to bind this creature.
Vines joined the roots. Branches bent low, pressing against her carapace. The queen stumbled.
And in that moment, I sent my thread forward.
It pierced her thorax, or at least tried to. Her chitin was thicker than the others, denser. The thread scraped against it, unable to break through.
Damn it!
The queen twisted, snapping three roots with a single flex. Her amber eyes locked onto my core. She knew where I was. She knew what I was.
She lunged again, faster this time.
I pulled every root, every vine, every branch into a tangled web before me. She crashed through the first layer, then the second, then the third. Each layer slowed her, but not enough.
Her mandibles closed around my core.
Pressure. Deep, crushing pressure. The same feeling as before, but multiplied a hundredfold. Warnings flooded my vision, too fast to read.
Is this it? Again?
Something inside me stirred.
Not anger. Not fear. Something deeper.
Justice.
"The Aspect Justice has awakened to judge the opponent."
The word echoed through my being, resonating with a part of me I had not known existed. These creatures had invaded my domain. They had attacked without reason, without mercy. They sought to consume me, to erase me from existence.
And for what? Hunger? Territory?
No.
I had done nothing to deserve this. I had simply existed, recovering from wounds inflicted by mindless beasts. And now this queen sought to finish what the boars had started.
That is not justice. That is cruelty disguised as nature.
And I would not allow it.
I would not allow myself to be defiled in such a way again.
I will teach you monsters some manners if it's the last thing I am to do!
"The Aspect Oath has recognised the intent of the wielder."
I felt heat. Not the traditional heat, but something along the lines of spiritual heat. It hummed up inside me, threatening to burst at any given moment.
I'll strike all of you down to avenge my fallen dignity. For I am your judge!
"The Aspect Revenge was pushed to the brink."
As the queen continued to crush me between her mandibles, all I could do at that moment was cackle. It seemed to be my most natural instinct to do so.
Burn, you miserable insects!
"The Law Flames of Morality has judged the opponent guilty."
Unleash the flames of Judgement!
Fire erupted from my core—not natural fire, but the fire of condemnation. Silver light blazed outward, pushing against the queen's mandibles. She recoiled, but too slowly.
The flames came.
They were not crimson. They were silver—bright as the halo above my head, cold as the void between stars, yet burning with an intensity that defied description. The silver fire raced along my thread, across the roots, up the vines, and into the queen.
She screamed.
Not a screech this time. A scream—high and keening, filled with agony that transcended the physical. The flames did not merely burn her chitin. They burned her spirit, her mind, her very will to exist.
The smaller Mist Scales scattered in all directions, fleeing the silver light that scorched their ruler.
The queen thrashed, but the flames followed her. They crawled under her carapace, into the soft flesh beneath. Her internal body turned to ash, consumed from within. Her legs curled. Her mandibles went slack. Her amber eyes dimmed, then went dark.
And then she was still.
Her chitin remained—hollow, empty, but perfectly intact. The silver flames licked at its surface but found no purchase. They had done their work. They receded, flowing back into my core.
"Physical Body Restoration: 100%"
That's... that's massive. One queen was worth more than everything else combined.
I hung in the silence, processing what had just happened. The silver flames. The surge of justice. The way they had responded to my intent.
So that is the Flames of Morality. Not fire in the traditional sense. Judgement.
The smaller Mist Scales were gone. The forest was quiet. And my core pulsed with new energy—energy I could use to finally rebuild my body.
I turned my attention inward.
For weeks, I had been trying to reconstruct the body I remembered—the body from my previous life. The one that had burned at the stake. The one that had belonged to a witch, a healer, a man.
That is why I have been so slow.
The realization struck me like a physical blow. I had been holding on to the past, trying to rebuild something that no longer existed. But I was not that man anymore. I was a Nephilim. Something new. Something that had never existed before.
I must let go.
I released the blueprint of my old body. The memories of human flesh, human bones, human limitations. They faded, replaced by something else—something that had been waiting beneath the surface all along.
This is my body. The one I reincarnated in. The one I have always had in this world.
I began to rebuild.
"The Aspects Celestial Defiance, Infernal Resistance, Mortal Impossibilities, Spiritual Alteration ignite before you."
The energy I had gathered this past month burst from my core into a shapeless mass.
I am no longer bound by the frailty of humanity. I am something else entirely.
Mortal Impossibilities wove through my form. Muscles, bones, organs—all of it I had designed not for limitation but for adaptation. This body would bend before it broke. It would learn from every wound, every poison, every extreme. Whatever this world threw at me, this body would find a way to survive.
Defiance against the heavens. Let them see my star and know I bow to no god.
Celestial Defiance reached upward, shaping the halo above my head. It did not form a simple ring this time. The energy twisted and folded, creating eight distinct points—a star. An eight-pointed ring of pure light, hovering above where my head would be.
The same energy flowed downward, forming my tail. Long, silver, flat, and flexible, as if silk had been given form. Eye-like patterns emerged along its length, one after another, watching in all directions. At the tip, the tail widened into a triangle, completing the arrow shape.
I flexed it experimentally. It moved with a grace my old body had never possessed.
Resistance against Hell. Let them know I am not theirs to claim.
Infernal Resistance shaped my horns. They grew from my scalp, small and black, thorn-like stubs poking out of my silver hair. Beneath the halo, they were almost hidden.
The same energy sharpened my nails. On my fingers and toes, the nails elongated into black claws—sharp, strong, capable of cutting through wood and chitin alike. I curled my fingers, feeling the points press against my palms.
One eye sees the heavens. One eye sees the abyss. Together, they see the truth.
Spiritual Alteration finished the work. My heart formed—not a muscle of flesh, but a core of condensed spirit, pulsing with silver light. And my eyes... my eyes opened for the first time.
I saw the world differently.
Colors I had never perceived. Energies flowing through the forest like rivers. The souls of distant creatures, flickering like candles in the darkness.
I stood.
The crater felt shallower than I remembered. My legs—digitigrade, beast-like in appearance. I stretched, feeling my joints pop, my muscles flex.
I was small. A child, no older than ten. But I was far from weak.
I raised my hands to my neck and wrists. Little sharp quills protruded from the skin there, like thick rocks. There were seven on each wrist and ten on my neck. I tugged at one of them, and it came away smoothly from my skin.
As soon as I pulled it out, a new one took its place in quick succession. I examined the spike in my hand. It felt as if it were made of black crystal.
Defensive measures. Useful.
My halo rotated slowly above my head. My tail swayed behind me, the eyes along its length blinking in sequence.
I looked at my reflection in a puddle left by the storm.
A child stared back. Androgynous, silver-haired, with one gold eye and one red. Horns hidden beneath curls. Fangs pressing against pale lips. A star of light crowning it all.
This is me. This is who I am now.
I turned to the remains of the queen.
Her chitin lay in pieces—segments of her legs, her thorax, her mandibles. The internal flesh had burned to ash, leaving hollow shells. The carapace was crimson, marked with silver scars, beautiful in a terrible way.
I cannot let this go to waste.
I gathered the largest pieces first. The chitin was lighter than it looked, flexible yet tough. I tested its strength by trying to tear a small fragment. It would not budge.
Perfect.
The silver flames answered my call. I focused on the feeling I had felt when fighting the queen. Then it appeared in my hand.
Truly a fascinating sight to behold. I had never wielded fire in my entire life as a witch.
I experimented with it, decreasing the intensity and increasing it over and over. It did not burn me whatsoever, even as it engulfed my entire arm. I centred it back into the palm of my hand.
I put a small piece of the chitin closer to it, and after some time it softened into a fabric-like structure. I could tell it was hot, but the heat did not bother me in the slightest.
I wonder if I could create new clothing with this?
I looked over to the rags I had worn before, lying on the ground muddied and torn. They were past their prime, to say the least.
I decided I could use the chitin to make new clothing for myself.
Instead of consuming, I shaped. The heat softened the chitin, made it pliable as clay. I pressed and folded, welded piece to piece. I also used my thread, weaving it through each section like patches of fabric.
First, a cloak.
I used the queen's largest segments as the base—her thorax plate became the back, her leg segments formed the shoulders. I shaped them into a flowing garment, long enough to reach my ankles. A hood I made from the head of the queen.
I draped it over my shoulders. It fit perfectly.
Next, I made a simple shirt, pants, and a pair of sandals out of the violet chitin scattered across the ground.
Now, the seed.
I found it where it had fallen—the seed Eblyss had gifted me, trampled into the earth. I brushed off the dirt and held it in my palm. It was small, dark, unremarkable.
You have been through much, little one. But I promised to take care of you.
From the queen's ashes, I scooped a handful. From the earth beneath the crater, I took more dirt. I found a small piece of violet chitin and shaped it into a pot. I filled it with the mixture of ash and soil, then pressed the seed into the center.
Grow when you are ready. I will wait.
I poured a few drops of water from the puddle into the pot. The soil darkened. The seed seemed to pulse once, twice, then settled.
Interesting. It has already begun to change. My blood, the flames, the ashes... they have affected it somehow.
I added a lid to the pot and wove my thread to make a handle for it.
I retrieved the branch from Eblyss, the Branch of the Storm Whisperer, struck by lightning ten thousand times. It had survived the trampling unscathed. I slung it over my shoulder, letting it rest against my cloak.
I looked around the crater one last time. The roots had receded. The forest was quiet. The bodies of the smaller Mist Scales lay scattered, their souls already drained, their chitin waiting to be claimed.
So much leftover. I cannot carry it all, but I will take what I can.
I gathered more violet chitin—leg segments, thorax plates, mandible fragments. I used my flames to shape them into a bag, larger than the pot, with a strap that crossed my chest. Into it, I placed the remaining chitin pieces.
This will be useful for trading. Or crafting. Or both.
The trees swayed gently in the breeze. The two moons were beginning to rise, their light filtering through the canopy. Somewhere in the distance, a creature howled.
That path. The one the boars carved through the forest.
I could still see the remnants of their destruction—young trees growing where old ones had fallen, the ground still slightly disturbed. The direction they had come from. The direction they had fled.
The swine that trampled me. That broke my body. That forced me into this form for three weeks.
My tail lashed behind me. The eyes along its length narrowed.
I will find them. I will hunt them. And I will have my revenge.
I pulled the insect head hood of my crimson cloak over my head. The eight-pointed star of my halo glowed above the fabric.
This I swear.
I took a step forward. Then another. Then I ran—faster than before, stronger than before, my digitigrade legs propelling me through the forest like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The world blurred around me.
The hunt had begun.