The clearing stayed quiet for half a breath after Derpy vanished.
Then everything broke at once.
Mia’s mist thinned in uneven sheets, like the field itself couldn’t decide whether to keep hiding what had happened.
Lenora pushed up on one elbow, eyes snapping across the ground where Derpy had been.
Vespera’s lashes fluttered.
Her breath caught.
She sat up too fast—then froze, one hand going to her rings.
One.
Only one.
Her fingers closed around it like she could force the others back into existence.
Lewd’s voice came out sharp. “Where did they take him?”
Sphinx’s head turned, ears tracking the last ripple of displaced air.
Seraphine’s fan was already open.
Her people shifted behind her, forming a half-circle that was protection and threat at the same time.
Mina clutched Derpy’s sleeve that wasn’t there anymore, hands emptying out in front of her.
Kara grabbed her before she folded.
Vambasta arrived like a storm that had decided to take a shape.
Her eyes swept the clearing.
Her voice hit the air with command.
“Pack.”
The word wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
The forest answered.
Wolves moved between trees—fast, disciplined, silent.
Vambasta lifted her hand.
“Give chase. Now.”
Mia’s small body tensed.
Sphinx stepped forward.
They both moved to follow.
A figure dropped into their path.
Not from the trees.
From the air itself, like the space had been cut open and something stepped out.
It looked like Riven.
Same shape.
Same face.
But the presence was wrong.
Too clean.
Too deliberate.
No stitches.
No hunger in the eyes.
Just a blank certainty.
Mia stopped short.
Sphinx’s claws dug into the dirt.
The look-alike tilted her head.
Her mouth opened.
And a beam of magic lanced out.
The air screamed.
The beam carved a line through the mist and scorched the ground where Mia would have been.
Mia jumped back, ice breath catching in her throat.
Sphinx shifted, trying to flank.
Another beam snapped out—faster than a thrown knife.
It hit the space in front of him like a warning.
The look-alike didn’t speak.
She didn’t need to.
The message was clear.
Denied.
Vambasta’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you?”
The doll’s lips moved.
Her voice came out calm.
“Ruin. Mk.1.”
Lenora’s stomach dropped.
A name.
A model.
A copy.
Seraphine’s gaze sharpened like she’d just been handed proof of something she’d suspected.
Vambasta stepped forward.
“Move,” she said.
Ruin Mk.1 opened her mouth again.
Another beam.
Vambasta swatted it aside with a swipe of force that bent the air.
The beam splintered.
Vambasta’s magic rolled off her like heat.
Alpha.
Territory.
Pack.
Ruin Mk.1 didn’t retreat.
She simply adjusted.
And fired again.
Part 2 — Brown Knuckles
A second figure dropped in.
This one also looked like Riven.
But the palette was different.
Brown.
Earth.
Old leather.
A dress that looked stitched from darker cloth.
Her eyes were steady.
Her stance was fighter-still.
She didn’t raise a weapon.
She raised her fists.
“Ruin,” she said, voice low. “Mk.2. Brown.”
Then she moved.
She crossed the distance like a thrown stone.
Her fist hit Vambasta’s guard.
The impact cracked the air.
Vambasta slid back a step, boots cutting a trench.
Mia’s breath hitched.
Sphinx’s tail lashed.
Vambasta’s eyes flashed.
She met the next punch with her forearm.
Then the next.
Then the next.
Each blow was heavy.
Not magic.
Mass.
Precision.
Ruin Mk.2 fought like she’d been built for one purpose: to put alpha wolves on the ground.
Vambasta tried to counter.
A hook.
A knee.
A shove of force.
Ruin Mk.2 took it, adjusted, and kept coming.
Vambasta’s magic surged.
Her cuffs—spiked, black, familiar—caught the light.
They didn’t glow.
They waited.
Ruin Mk.2’s fist came up from below.
It hit Vambasta’s ribs.
Vambasta’s breath left her.
A second punch followed.
Then a third.
The last one landed clean.
Vambasta’s head snapped.
She stumbled.
Her magic flickered.
The cuffs activated.
The shift wasn’t dramatic.
It was worse.
Like something inside her was cut.
Her ears lowered.
Her tail tucked.
Her shoulders drew in.
And the wolf that had filled the clearing collapsed into a smaller shape.
Human.
Pink hair.
Blue dress.
Hands clenched together in front of her like she was trying to hold herself in one piece.
Vambasta’s eyes darted.
She couldn’t keep them steady.
Her voice came out thin.
“Don’t—”
Ruin Mk.2 didn’t finish her.
She didn’t need to.
She looked past her.
Toward the trees.
Toward the path the cloaks had taken.
And she spoke like she was reporting.
“Pursuit suppressed.”
Part 3 — Real Riven, Wrong Outcome
Riven appeared in front of them.
Not from the air.
From the trees.
Fast.
Silent.
Real.
Her hands shifted.
Fingers lengthened.
Metal and shadow formed into blades.
Swords.
Calamity-made.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t warn.
She cut.
Ruin Mk.1 pivoted.
Ruin Mk.2 stepped aside.
And a third figure entered the line.
A look-alike.
No stitches.
A red dress.
Hair neat.
Face calm.
She moved like a duelist.
Riven’s blade met hers.
The sound was wrong—too clean, too sharp.
Riven pushed.
The copy pushed back.
Riven tried to angle for the throat.
The copy read it and turned.
A strike landed.
Riven’s body jolted.
Her feet slid.
She caught herself—barely.
Lenora’s hand went to her weapon.
Lewd’s eyes narrowed.
Vespera tried to stand.
Her one ring felt like a joke in her palm.
The red-dressed copy lifted her chin.
“Ruin,” she said. “Mk.3.”
Then she looked at Riven.
And spoke like a verdict.
“Original is inefficient.”
Riven’s blades trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
She lunged again.
Mk.3 met her.
And put her down.
Not with cruelty.
With function.
Riven hit the ground.
Hard.
Part 4 — The Circle
A magic circle flared at the edge of the clearing.
Runes.
Thread-patterns.
A ring of light that looked like it had been stitched into the world.
The cloaked figures stepped into it.
The Ruin units moved with them.
One more appeared at the circle—taller, darker.
Black.
Carrying Derpy.
Like luggage.
Like a prize.
“Ruin,” Mk.2 said. “Mk.4. Black.”
Mk.4 didn’t speak.
It didn’t need to.
Derpy’s head lolled against its shoulder.
Mia tried to surge forward.
A beam snapped out.
The ground in front of her exploded.
Denied.
The circle brightened.
Then folded.
And everything inside it vanished.
The forest rushed back into the space like it had been holding its breath.
Vambasta—human, shaking—made a small sound.
It wasn’t a command.
It was a plea.
Lenora stepped toward her.
Kara held Mina tighter.
Seraphine’s fan snapped shut.
Her voice cut through the panic.
“Inside,” she said.
No one moved.
Seraphine’s eyes hardened.
“I said inside. We are not losing the next move.
Not to copies.
Not to elves.
Not to anyone.”
Part 5 — The Throne Room (Elsewhere)
The circle opened again.
Far away.
Inside a place that smelled like sap and old magic.
A world tree.
A hall carved into living wood.
Mk.4 carried Derpy through stitched-quiet corridors.
An elf walked beside them.
He removed his hood.
His face was composed.
Official.
A man who didn’t need to raise his voice because the system raised it for him.
The five of them entered a throne room.
A king and queen sat high on carved roots.
No names spoken.
Not yet.
Two younger figures leaned forward—princesses.
Their eyes fixed on Derpy’s bracelets.
Their attention was too intense.
Too hungry.
Their bodies stilled like predators watching a cage.
The elf spoke.
“Specimen acquired.”
The king’s gaze didn’t move.
The queen’s fingers tapped once on the arm of her throne.
The princesses whispered to each other.
Words too fast to catch.
But the tone was unmistakable.
Possession.
Obsession.
Derpy was carried out.
Down.
Deeper.
Part 6 — The Maid and the Gauntlets
Derpy woke to soft light.
Wood walls.
A room that smelled like leaves and clean water.
His wrists felt wrong.
His magic felt distant.
His chest tightened.
Where were his pets?
He sat up too fast.
Panic hit like a wave.
He started calling.
Names.
Over and over.
His voice cracked.
No answer.
A girl in a maid’s outfit stepped into view.
Elf.
Calm.
Holding a book.
She looked at him like she was checking a list.
“You’re a calamity user,” she said.
Derpy forced his face into something casual.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The maid lifted her hand.
And Derpy’s Frostburn gauntlets appeared.
Summoned.
Pulled from wherever they’d been stored like they were attached to her authority.
Derpy’s stomach dropped.
The maid tilted her head.
“I am Lieam,” she said. “Your maid. I will be taking care of you.”
Derpy’s breath turned shallow.
His eyes searched the room again.
No barking.
No meowing.
No weight of familiar bodies.
His hands started shaking.
He couldn’t stop it.
The panic became physical.
He started tweaking—breath too fast, vision narrowing.
He called again.
Louder.
Desperate.
Then—
Faint.
So faint he almost didn’t trust it.
A bark.
A meow.
Distant.
Miles away.
Derpy’s throat closed.
He realized it.
He wasn’t just separated.
He was far.
So far the sounds had to travel through magic to reach him.
Celica’s presence pressed in.
Blight’s presence pressed in.
Celica spoke first.
“Seems Blight is going to be with us for a while.”
Blight answered, almost conversational.
“I can still talk to Lewd.”
Derpy swallowed hard.
“Then I need you to relay something.”
Blight’s attention turned.
“Say it.”
Derpy forced the words out clean.
“Tell Lewd: my pets protect her. She doesn’t have her calamity book right now. They stay with her.
And tell everyone I’m okay—for now.
Tell them I’m in a giant world tree.
Being taken care of by a calamity user.
I don’t know who she is.”
Blight paused.
Then the link pulled.
Somewhere far away, Lewd heard.
Somewhere far away, Lewd answered.
“Is Derpy okay?”
Blight’s voice returned.
“Yes.”
Derpy’s breath shook.
He stared at Lieam.
At the book.
At his gauntlets.
At the calm way she stood like this was normal.
Like captivity was a routine.
Derpy didn’t know it yet.
But the calamity user taking care of him wasn’t a random maid.
She was the third princess.
And the board had changed again.