Another month slipped by, quiet on the surface yet heavy beneath it.

Kaeya emerged from the edge of Tyler’s territory just before dawn, her boots barely disturbing the dew-soaked grass. The forest parted for her as if accustomed to her presence. A man knelt before her, his head bowed low, his form wrapped in a shadowed cloak that drank in the morning light. This time, he did not bother hiding. In his hands rested a sealed scroll.

He presented it with both palms raised, reverent.

Kaeya accepted it without a word and broke the seal immediately, her eyes moving swiftly across the lines. The seriousness on her face deepened with every breath she took.

Unbeknownst to them—or perhaps known all too well—Tyler was already there.

He sat casually atop the wooden fence that marked the boundary of his land, one leg dangling, the other hooked comfortably over a beam. A blade of grass hung between his fingers as he watched the scene unfold like a spectator enjoying a familiar play.

"Well, that’s new," Tyler said lazily. "This time your subordinate didn’t even bother hiding."

Kaeya did not respond. Her attention was fixed entirely on the contents of the scroll.

The kneeling man stiffened. Sweat trickled down his temple, soaking into the fabric near his jaw. He kept his gaze lowered, not daring to speak without permission.

Tyler tilted his head, studying him with mild curiosity. "You usually stick to the trees, right? Branch to branch, breath held, heart slowed. There was even a time you got so hungry you stole food from the offerings villagers leave at my gate."

The Shadow Tribe operative’s breath hitched.

Cold sweat drenched his back.

He had been proud of his stealth, certain that not even Kaeya herself had noticed his mistake that day. Yet this man—this so-called farmer—had seen everything. Fear crept in, slow and suffocating, as he realized how little of this land was truly hidden from Tyler.

Tyler hopped down from the fence and stretched. "Relax. I didn’t mind. The bread was stale anyway."

Only then did he turn his attention fully to Kaeya. "So," he asked more quietly, sensing the shift in her mood, "what happened? You look like someone just dropped the sky on your shoulders."

Kaeya finally looked up.

Her eyes were steady, but the weight in them was unmistakable.

---

Tanal lay to the east of the Kingdom, a small nation that had never known true peace, only brief pauses between misfortune. Now, even those pauses were gone.

The capital of Tanal had been swallowed whole.

What once were stone streets and proud towers had become a nightmare of silk and ruin. Vast spiderwebs stretched across buildings like grotesque banners, layered so thick they blotted out the sky. Entire structures had collapsed under their weight, walls torn open as if clawed apart by some enormous beast. Broken weapons lay scattered across the streets, snapped spears and shattered shields half-buried in dust and webbing. Blood stained the stones in dark, uneven pools, and the air carried a sickly-sweet stench of decay.

Warriors were everywhere—trapped, cocooned, suspended in midair like offerings. Some still twitched faintly. Others were already silent, their bodies bent at impossible angles, bones clearly shattered beneath the silk.

At the center of this living graveyard stood the Hero Party.

Hiro, the Hero, was barely standing. His armor was cracked, his cloak torn to ribbons, and blood seeped steadily from a deep gash along his side. Still, he gripped his sword with both hands, teeth clenched, eyes burning with stubborn resolve. Each swing carved through the white spiders that poured toward them, but for every one he cut down, two more seemed to crawl from the shadows.

Aoi knelt nearby, her robes soaked crimson at the hem. The Holy Priest’s hands glowed with soft golden light as she worked desperately over Arnold and Flech. Arnold, the Guardian, lay on his back, his massive frame riddled with puncture wounds. Even his unnatural endurance was failing him; his breathing was shallow, uneven. Flech, the Rogue, looked worse. The petite elf’s leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, her face pale as death as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Stay with me," Aoi whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. Light flared as she poured healing magic into them, knitting flesh and dulling pain. "Please... just stay alive."

Hiro hacked apart another spider that leapt for her, ichor splattering across his armor. "There’s no end to them," he shouted. His voice echoed hollowly through the web-choked streets. "They just keep coming."

As if to mock him, a fresh wave of spiders surged from a collapsed tower, their pale bodies skittering over one another, mandibles clicking hungrily.

One of them darted past Hiro’s guard and lunged for Aoi. She barely had time to react before sharp fangs sank into her wrist.

She gasped, pain flaring white-hot, and crushed the creature with a burst of holy energy. The spider disintegrated into ash, but the damage was done. Veins along her arm darkened rapidly, turning a sickly blue as poison spread through her blood.

Aoi bit back a cry and pressed her free hand against her wrist. "Purification," she whispered, forcing the words past clenched teeth. Light surged, burning through the venom. The discoloration faded, but sweat poured down her face.

Hiro glanced back, horror flickering in his eyes. "Aoi—"

"I’m fine," she said quickly, though her voice was weaker now. "Just... don’t stop."

Hiro swung his sword in a wide arc, releasing a cluster of trapped civilians from their webs. They collapsed onto the street, coughing and crying.

For a heartbeat, hope flickered.

Then silver threads shot out from the buildings, wrapping around the freed people before they could even stand. Screams rang out as they were dragged back into the air, bound tighter than before.

Hiro’s sword lowered slowly.

His shoulders sagged.

"There’s no saving them," he said hoarsely. The words tasted like ash. "Not like this."

Aoi froze. "What are you saying?"

Hiro turned to her, eyes hollow with exhaustion. "We can’t keep fighting like this. Even if we kill every spider we see, more will come. The capital is already lost."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the skittering of legs and the distant cries of the trapped.

"We still have the Royal Annihilation Cannons," Hiro continued, voice steady now, too steady. "If we use them... we can wipe this place out. End it before it spreads any further."

Aoi’s eyes widened in horror. "No. Hiro, no. If we do that, everyone here—every civilian—will die."

He didn’t look away. "They’re already dead," he said quietly. "If not now, then soon. And if this infestation spreads beyond the capital, Tanal won’t be the only country that falls."

Aoi closed her eyes, tears slipping free despite her efforts. She knew he was right. That knowledge hurt more than any wound.

After a long moment, she nodded.

Hiro moved quickly then. He lifted Arnold with shocking ease, strength born of desperation lending him power. Aoi gathered Flech into her arms, the elf’s head lolling against her shoulder.

They ran.

Webs snapped and spiders shrieked as Hiro carved a path through the streets. The ground shook beneath their feet as explosions rocked distant districts—other defenders, already falling.

"Once we’re clear," Hiro shouted over the chaos, "we call for the cannons. End this!"

Aoi nodded, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Flech tighter.

They almost made it.

A thunderous boom split the air.

The street ahead of them vanished in a blinding flash as an annihilation cannon fired prematurely. Heat and force slammed into them like a god’s fist.

Before they could even scream, silver webs shot out from the smoke, coiling around their bodies with terrifying speed. Arms pinned, legs bound, weapons torn from their grasp. They were yanked upward, consciousness slipping away as the world spun.

Darkness took them.

From the settling smoke, a lone figure stepped forward.

He moved with casual confidence, his boots crunching over debris, his silhouette framed by the ruined city. His gaze rose to the four figures hanging helplessly in the air.

"So," he murmured, voice laced with amusement, "the famous Hero Party."

He tilted his head, studying them like trophies.

"Three Demon Generals have already fallen," he continued thoughtfully. "Two at the hands of that troublesome princess... and one devoured by the Demon King himself. How ironic."

A thin smile spread across his face.

"I am the last one," he said softly. "And I must say... you made this far more interesting."

His eyes flicked toward the distant cannons, still smoking. "I’ll be taking those as well. Eliminating your backliners first was a wise choice on my part."

He chuckled, low and pleased.

"Now then," he said, looking back at the unconscious heroes. "Let’s see how the world fares without its champions."

---

"The Hero Party has been captured by a Demon General," she said. Her voice was calm, but the words themselves carried ruin. "And there is more. A fifth new Demon General has been appointed. Worse still... the neighboring country of Tanal has fallen."

The forest seemed to grow still around them.

Tyler’s usual easy smile faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. "That’s... bad," he said after a moment. Then, softer, "What are you going to do, Princess?"

Kaeya inhaled slowly. "It has been four months since I came here," she said. "Four months, and I still could not find the druid I was searching for. Now I can’t stay any longer. According to the reports, the Demon King is sweeping through the smaller nations first, one by one, before turning his gaze fully upon our kingdom."

She clenched the scroll in her hand. "I need to return."

Tyler studied her for a long second. "But the prophecy," he said. "Didn’t it say only the druid could help?"

Kaeya shook her head, a trace of frustration slipping through her composure. "That’s what we believed. But perhaps we misunderstood. The words were... vague. It didn’t say ’druid’ specifically. It said someone blessed by nature."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Blessed by nature?"

"Yes," Kaeya continued, almost thinking aloud now. "Someone surrounded by nature. Someone who blends into it effortlessly. Someone loved by it." Her gaze drifted past Tyler, toward the fields beyond the fence—lush, vibrant, unnaturally fertile even at the edge of winter. "Someone who can create nature."

Her words trailed off.

Slowly, her eyes returned to Tyler.

At that exact moment, a tiny creature fluttered down from above—a butterfly-sized cat with radiant wings, glowing faintly with natural mana. It landed neatly atop Tyler’s head, purring softly.

Tyler chuckled and reached up, gently patting it. "Morning, little one."

Kaeya stared.

Her breath caught.

Fields that thrived beyond reason. Creatures of nature that treated him as their own. Tribes that offered him gifts as if to a guardian spirit. A man who could see through shadows, command the forest, and remain untouched by its dangers.

The description fit far too well.

Kaeya stood there, silent, realization dawning with quiet inevitability.