I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 382 - 378 – Shadow of the Traitor

The northern forest of Ironvale fell silent once more after Noir’s roar subsided. The death mist that had earlier enveloped the small clearing slowly thinned, leaving behind a piercing cold air scented with wet earth and falling leaves. The thirty hunters or what remained of them now sat or lay sprawled on the mossy ground, breaths ragged, eyes filled with unconcealed terror. They were no longer a threat; merely a broken group of humans who had lost all confidence after "playing" with the undead dragon they had assumed would be easy to capture. Dominion Lock had vanished, its dark purple runes fading like smoke swept away by the mountain wind, but Sylvia knew: the night was not yet fully over.

Noir, back to his deceptively cute yet deadly cat size, sat casually on Sylvia’s shoulder. His black scales still glistened with night dew, and his blood-red eyes glowed softly, as if mocking the hunters below. Sofia stood beside Sylvia, her hand still tightly gripping the shaft of her spear, though her gentle face showed not the slightest tremor. Her golden eyes swept over the hunters with a mixture of pity and wariness she knew Sylvia would not simply let them walk away.

Sylvia took one step forward. The Chain of Abyss, which had been coiling in the air like a living serpent, now slowly descended, hanging directly above the hunters’ heads. The cold aura radiating from the chain made their hair stand on end, and several began to shiver uncontrollably. "You came armed with pure mythril," Sylvia said quietly, her voice as cold as mountain ice. "Weapons that exist only in Nocture. They have never been sold outside. Where did you get them?"

The hunters exchanged glances, but none spoke. Their leader, the tall man whose half-face mask was now cracked, merely lowered his head, lips pressed tight. The others followed suit, avoiding Sylvia’s blazing red gaze that burned like hellfire. Silence blanketed the clearing, broken only by gusts of wind that sent dry leaves swirling through the air.

Sylvia was not a patient person. Her patience was as thin as wet tissue, easily torn, easily gone. She had already spent the night on an exhausting game of cat and mouse, and now, with no answers forthcoming, a cold fury began to simmer in her chest. "Answer," she hissed, her voice lower, more threatening. The Chain of Abyss vibrated intensely; the jet-black chain began to extend, slithering out from beneath Sylvia’s sleeve like a hungry serpent. Behind her, empty space cracked open black rifts forming portals of darkness and from them, thirty identical chains emerged, one for each hunter. The tips were sharp as deadly thorns, ready to pierce and end them in an instant.

Several hunters panicked again, crawling backward across the mossy ground, but there was nowhere to run. The chains floated closer, their deathly aura making the air feel heavy, like a final breath held too long. Sylvia raised her hand, prepared to give the final command.

But before the chains could move, Sofia stepped forward quickly. Her hand touched Sylvia’s arm gently but firmly, halting the motion. She shook her head slightly, her golden eyes looking at Sylvia with a blend of affection and warning. "No, Sylvia," she whispered softly, her voice like a calming night breeze. Then she let out a long sigh, as if releasing an invisible burden. "You can do anything... except for interrogation. Let me handle it."

Sylvia looked at Sofia for a moment, her red eyes narrowing. She knew Sofia was right; she had never been good at this. Interrogation required patience, deception, and a touch of empathy that Sylvia simply didn’t possess. She preferred direct action, fire and darkness that resolved problems in an instant. Finally, Sylvia gave a small nod. The chains slowly retreated back into the dark rifts, and she stepped back several paces, leaning against a giant tree at the edge of the clearing. Noir growled softly in agreement, leaping temporarily onto Sofia’s shoulder as if offering support.

Sofia approached the hunters with calm steps. Her usually soft and friendly face had changed not into explosive anger, but into a thin, cold smile. Her golden eyes glowed with an intensity that sent chills down spines. She looked like a fallen angel beautiful yet lethal. Several hunters recoiled further, but Sofia only crouched in front of their leader, her smile widening slightly. "You know, I don’t like violence," she said quietly, her voice like poisoned honey. "But if you don’t talk, my friend over there... she won’t hesitate. So just tell me. Where did the mythril weapons come from?"

The leader remained silent, but Sofia didn’t lose her patience. She gently touched the man’s shoulder, a touch that should have been soothing, yet made him tremble violently. "I know you’re scared. But imagine if I were the one who got angry... that would be worse." Her smile grew wider, but her golden eyes burned like ready flames. Noir on her shoulder growled softly, adding to the pressure.

It didn’t take long. Sofia had her own way, a mixture of gentleness and subtle threat that made people speak without realizing it. One of the younger hunters finally cracked, his voice shaking. "W-we... bought them from other hunters. They said they got them from Nocture. Said someone was selling quietly in the southern black market."

Sofia nodded slowly, her smile unchanged. "Who were those hunters? How did they get them?"

Others began to speak, their voices breaking from fear. "Some hunters frequently go in and out of Nocture. They said it’s easy if you know the way. Pure mythril... they said it comes from the dwarf forges underground there. We paid a fortune, but it was worth it for capturing rare creatures."

Sofia listened patiently, mentally noting every detail. In less than ten minutes, she had the full picture: names of the hunters who sold the mythril, the location of the black market south of Ironvale, and even the smuggling routes they used. Her gentle face never changed, but the hidden anger in her aura made the hunters feel like puppets being played with.

When she finished, Sofia stood and walked back to Sylvia. "They said it came from hunters who frequently visit Nocture," she whispered. "They sell it in the southern black market."

Sylvia nodded in understanding, her red eyes narrowing. Hunters were indeed the ones who most often entered and exited Nocture they came to hunt monsters, trade artifacts, or simply do business. But pure mythril was no ordinary item; it was forged by the dwarves in Nocture’s underground workshops, strictly guarded by Alicia and the perimeter spirits. It shouldn’t have been easy to steal or sell. Still, this information was enough at least to begin an investigation. "Good," Sylvia murmured. "We’ll handle it later in Nocture."

Then Sylvia glanced back at the hunters. They now sat in silence, perhaps hoping for mercy. But Sylvia had no mercy for traitors or thieves. Black-purple flames ignited in her palm cold death fire, not hot like ordinary flames. She tossed it gently, like throwing a stone into a lake. The fire leaped from one hunter to the next in an instant, burning them silently, without screams. Their bodies turned to black ash that the wind swept away, leaving no trace, as if they had never existed. Only a faint scent of dark smoke lingered in the air.

Sofia watched for a moment but said nothing. She knew this was Sylvia’s way: quick, efficient, without regret. Noir growled in satisfaction and leaped back onto Sylvia’s shoulder. "Let’s go back," Sylvia said curtly.

They walked out of the forest, their steps light on the mossy ground. Night mist still clung to the trees, but faint lights from Ironvale began to appear in the distance. The mountain air grew colder, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. Sofia pulled her cloak tighter; the purple snowflake crystal pendant at her neck glowed softly, as if responding to the darkness they had just left behind.

As they neared the edge of the city, Sylvia paused briefly. "Noir, check the surroundings." The small dragon leaped down, growing slightly to the size of a dog, then darted ahead, sniffing the air. No more threats the hunters had likely been the last of the night. Noir returned, shaking his head gently.

"We’re safe," Sofia murmured, her hand touching Sylvia’s arm again. "But... Nocture. There’s a traitor there."

Sylvia nodded. "I know. We return tomorrow. But tonight, rest."

They entered Ironvale through a back alley, avoiding the main streets where a few night owls still lingered. The crystal lamps on the street posts flickered softly, casting long dancing shadows across the wet stone sidewalks. The city had fallen completely quiet, the taverns closed, the forges dark, only the gentle wind carrying dry leaves.

The "Cold Iron" inn still glowed faintly. Lira was probably already asleep, but the front door remained unlocked, a habit of this safe small town. They climbed the stairs quietly, without a sound, and entered their room. It was just as they had left it: two thick mattresses, a small table with an automatic crystal candle, and a window overlooking the now-empty market.

Sofia immediately collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh. "What a long night... I’m exhausted." But her eyes remained alert, watching Sylvia, who had once again taken her seat by the window.

Sylvia didn’t reply immediately. She gazed outside toward the distant purple snow mountains. Her mind had already drifted to Nocture: the towering black castle, the black rose garden, and now the traitor who needed to be rooted out. The Chain of Abyss vibrated faintly at her wrist, as if in agreement.

Noir curled up at the foot of the bed, his red eyes half-closed. Sofia got up briefly to remove her cloak and pendant, then lay back down. "Tomorrow we go home, right? To Nocture."

"Yes," Sylvia answered shortly. "But morning first. Breakfast. Then we leave."

Sofia gave a faint smile. "Okay. I miss Stacia and Alicia." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The night passed slowly. Outside, the city was truly silent now, only the mountain wind blowing harder, carrying cold dew. Sylvia didn’t sleep; she sat still, alternating her gaze between the door and the window. Her mind wandered over the details of the interrogation: the hunters selling mythril. Who were they? How had they bypassed Nocture’s defenses? Alicia would be furious if she knew her spirits had been fooled. There might be a gap in the perimeter, or perhaps someone inside helping.

Sofia slept soundly, her breathing even. Noir snored softly, though his ears stayed perked. Sylvia closed her eyes for a moment, but her thoughts never stopped. She remembered nights like this in Nocture: when threats came from outside, but the root was within. Traitors were always the most dangerous; they knew the secrets, knew the weaknesses.

Morning arrived with an overcast but faintly bright sky. Soft gray light filtered through the window, illuminating the small room. Sofia woke first again, stretching long before noticing Sylvia still in the same position. "Morning... you didn’t sleep again?"

"Enough," Sylvia replied.

They went down to the dining area. Lira was already up, preparing breakfast: warm toasted bread with wild apple jam, scrambled free-range eggs, and fragrant herbal tea. Noir sat at the small side table, receiving another piece of bread from a smiling Lira.

"Quiet night?" Lira asked while pouring tea.

Sofia smiled warmly. "Yes, Ma’am. Very quiet."

Lira nodded, though her eyes seemed to know something was off. "Good. Be careful on the road if you’re heading north."

After breakfast, they prepared to leave. Sofia packed her new cloak and pendant; Sylvia checked her dagger and Chain of Abyss. With Noir on her shoulder, they paid Lira with extra silver coins as thanks for her hospitality.

Outside, Ironvale was beginning to stir again. The market opened, vendors setting up stalls, children running about. But Sylvia and Sofia didn’t linger. They walked toward the northern gate, leaving the cold iron city with firm steps. The purple snow mountains loomed ahead, the winding trail waiting.

As they left Ironvale, Sylvia glanced back once. The shadow of the traitor still lingered but now, she knew where to look. The black-purple flame in her heart was ready to burn everything clean.

The journey home to Nocture began. Dense forests, icy rivers, and cold winds accompanied them. Sofia chatted lightly about what they would do in Nocture perhaps cook wyrm soup again, or read novels with Stacia. Sylvia listened, but her mind stayed focused: the traitor must be purged. Noir growled in agreement, his small wings trembling faintly.

They passed fertile valleys beneath the mountains, where farmers were beginning to harvest wild apples and crystal mushrooms. The fresh scent mixed with wet earth made Sofia smile. "Beautiful, isn’t it, Sylvia? But Nocture is more beautiful."

Sylvia gave a small nod. "Home."

The day passed quickly. On the second night they camped beside an icy river, Sylvia’s black campfire warming them without smoke. Sofia slept soundly; Noir kept watch. Sylvia gazed at the rare stars visible beyond Ironvale’s clouds.

Finally, after two days, Nocture appeared: the black castle rising through the mist, black roses blooming, the faint echo of dwarf hammers. They returned with the secret of the traitor ready to be uncovered.