The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

The corpses are still warm.

Not for long, though.

The others are hanging back, just far enough to give me space, just close enough to pounce when I give the okay. Even Misa's twitching a little, and she's usually the patient one. Rin's already licking the blood off one of his front legs like he's trying to pretend he's not starving.

Goldy and Vex, meanwhile, remain in their cocoon lumps. Useless. Decorative. Mentally loud.

"Tell me if their hearts are still fresh," Vex mutters from his silk prison. "I'd like to imagine the flavor."

"Ew," Tessa says under her breath. "Still ew."

Victor stands silently nearby. Spiky's just sitting, mandibles tapping faintly. Everyone's waiting.

But I'm focused on the bodies.

Two males. One with a snapped neck. The other is missing a head. Victor's handiwork — clean, effective, clinical. No excessive mess.

I nudge the headless one first. Armor's standard. Nothing fancy. Scratched chestplate. Light chainmail underneath. Leather pouches.

I crack one open.

Food.

Dried meat strips. Human rations. Probably seasoned with salt and desperation. I toss it over my metaphorical shoulder and hear Rin immediately scuffle with Misa behind me.

Next pouch.

Bottle. Thin glass. Cork sealed. I shake it. Liquid sloshes inside — mana potion, maybe? Healing salve? Poison? No label, of course.

Tessa leans closer, sniffing. "Smells sweet. Probably something edible. Or flammable."

"Same difference," I mutter.

Then the third pouch.

Paper.

I pause.

Pull it out slowly. It's damp, but not ruined. Unfolded carefully with my claws. The texture's rough, ink faded but still legible.

Lines. Shapes. Markings.

Tessa squints. "Is that… a map?"

"Maybe," I murmur.

It's hand-drawn. Not elegant. But detailed. The tunnels are marked in red. Arrows. Symbols. There's even something labeled in human script—can't read it, obviously, but the layout says enough.

This isn't just a scavenging squad.

They were tracking something.

Us?

Or someone else?

Either way, this just got a lot more complicated.

"Alright," I mutter, flicking the map shut and stuffing it into one of my silk wraps. "We're pretty much done here."

I look over my shoulder at the group.

"Go ahead. You guys can, uh… continue."

Rin doesn't wait. He lunges with zero hesitation and starts tearing into the headless one like a kid opening birthday presents. Misa follows, quieter but no less efficient — picking apart muscle, spine, soft tissue with practiced precision. Spiky's already chosen a limb and is methodically cracking it open like a crab leg.

Victor kneels beside what's left of the first body and gets to work with almost surgical grace.

Tessa and I?

We both step back.

Goldy hums a lazy tune from her cocoon. "You're welcome for the feast."

Vex says nothing, but I feel his sulky disappointment radiating through the psychic link. He's practically vibrating with unused murder energy.

I flop down beside Tessa and slide the rations between us — real, actual human food. Not half-melted slime fungus. Not stale insect resin. Meat. Salted. Dried. Even smells kind of good.

We stare at it for a second like it might run away.

"…This is the best thing I've had since—well. Since ever," I say, quietly.

Tessa nods. "Literally ever. I didn't even know food could smell like this."

I break off a piece with my mandibles and chew slowly. My body practically short-circuits. It's not even that good. It's dry. A bit tough. Too salty.

But it's real. Cooked. Seasoned. Hand-prepared by someone who wasn't trying to survive on bones and edible mold.

I swallow and let out a breath.

Tessa leans back next to me, mouth full, tail thumping faintly against the ground.

For a moment, we just sit there.

Not warriors.

Not monsters.

Just two girls sharing stolen food in the middle of a silent, bloody cave.

I think that's the closest we've ever been to peace.

Tessa's quiet at first, just chewing slowly, eyes wide like she's trying to memorize the taste molecule by molecule.

Then she warms it.

Just a little — a flicker of heat from her paw, enough to soften the meat and bring out whatever flavor's still clinging to it. The scent lifts, richer now. Smoky. Savory. Like actual food instead of survival.

She bites into it again and—

Her eyes suddenly brimmed.

She turns her head away, but I can feel it — the twitch in her breath, the way her throat tightens.

"You crying?" I ask, mouth half-full.

"No," she croaks, very much crying.

"Right. You're just… aggressively hydrating from the inside."

She wipes her eyes with the back of her paw, still chewing. "I've never tasted anything like this. Not even back then. Not even at home."

Her voice cracks on the last word. She doesn't say more.

I stay quiet.

Just push another strip toward her and lean back, chewing slowly, letting her have the space to cry over jerky if that's what it takes.

If this—warm food, silence, something not soaked in blood or monster guts—is what gets her to feel again?

Then yeah.

She can cry.

I'll keep watch.

We finish eating after a few more bites — not because we're full, but because there's just not much to begin with.

Barely a handful of strips. A few crumbs.

But damn, the taste makes up for it. It lingers. Warm, salty, smoky — like something out of a memory we never actually had. For a few minutes, it felt like we weren't in Zone Four. Just two friends sharing a meal that didn't taste like rot.

Tessa leans back with a small sigh, tail curled under her. "I could cry again."

"Please don't," I mutter. "I might join you."

She snorts. "That bad?"

"No. That human food good."

We sit in the aftermath, small crumbs of peace still clinging to our mouths.

Meanwhile, behind us…

Yeah. They're still going at it.

Crunch.
Rip.
Wet tearing noises.

Rin's making happy chewing sounds like a feral animal. Misa's working on the chest cavity with disturbing precision. Spiky is calmly separating ligaments like he's disassembling a desk. And Victor, of course, looks like he's performing a dignified autopsy instead of a meal.

"Tch. Monsters," I mutter.

Tessa grins without looking back. "Nur."

"Yeah?"

"We're monsters too."

"…Shut up."

I unfold the paper again, the so-called map, and lay it out on a flat rock between us. It's still a bit damp from the pouch, but the ink's holding. Faded, scratchy lines. Symbols. Some weird squiggles that might be writing or just panic doodles.

"This mean anything to you?" I ask, nudging it toward Tessa.

She leans in, snout practically touching the parchment. "Uh… that squiggle looks like a screaming bird?"

"…That's a tree."

"Oh. Then no. No idea."

Of course.

I sigh. "Alright, can you warm it again? Light it up a bit? I'm flying blind here."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Tessa obliges, flicking a small controlled flame into the air. It floats above her paw like a baby sun, just enough to cast light without burning anything.

The map glows.

And there it is.

Now that I can see properly, it's obvious — a rough outline of this zone. Not the whole thing, but definitely a section. Tunnels. Junctions. Hazard symbols, maybe. And around the edges… marks.

Small Xs. Circles. Short human scribbles.

"Checkpoints," I mutter. "Or camps. Patrol routes? Could be resource sites too…"

Tessa frowns. "Think they're still active?"

"No idea. But the marks look fresh."

Which means the humans haven't just visited this zone.

"Or… wait," I say, tapping a claw against one of the circled marks on the map.

My eyes narrow.

"Tessa, didn't you say before there were checkpoints with moonlight? Lakes? Some kind of weird open space?"

Tessa blinks. "Yeah—yeah, the one Mama Wolf took us to. My pack camped there once. It was kinda peaceful… You know, for this place."

I tilt the map toward her. "This one, maybe?"

She leans closer, flame hovering in her paw. "Could be. What's it called again? Uhh… Luke? Loom… something?"

She squints hard, ears twitching. "Lune-something…"

Then her eyes widen.

"Oh! Lunerian Checkpoint!"

"Seriously?" I raise a brow. "That sounds fake."

She shrugs. "That's what we called it. Big open cavern. Still water. Little glowing moss. Moonlight—well, it looked like moonlight. Mama said it was sacred."

"Mama Wolf?"

"Yeah…" Her voice softens. "She liked it there."

I glance back down at the map. The circled mark near the upper tunnels, next to a spiral symbol and a drawn ripple… yeah. That could be a lake.

So. A checkpoint. Maybe sacred. Maybe strategic.

And marked.

By humans.

I stare at the map a little longer, claw tracing the symbol beside the lake. Moonlight… still water… if there's anywhere in this hellhole that could fuel my Lunar Ascension, it's probably there.

Except—mine's still depleted. Burned out from the last fight. Nothing left but embers and aches.

Tch. This might be a chance to recharge it.

Then Goldy's voice floats in, syrupy-sweet and full of suspicion. "Hmm~ so you're planning to go there?"

Here we go.

"But we still have to deliver the contract to Mother, remember? And the Fifth Zone isn't exactly waiting politely. If we don't move soon—"

"I know," I cut in. "Believe me, I know. But there's also the chance that humans are already setting up there. If they are, they're gonna be a problem. Not just for us. For Mother. For the colony."

Goldy stays quiet.

I press on. "That's why I'm proposing we split. Not far. Not permanent. Just enough to scout it. If it's clear, I recharge. If it's not, we deal with it before it grows teeth."

There's a beat of silence.

Then Vex's voice slices in like a dull blade. "Oh, brilliant. Because you did such a great job dealing with the last batch."

Tessa bristles beside me. I say nothing.

Vex doesn't stop. "One escaped. One. And now you want to waltz straight into a checkpoint that might be crawling with more of them. Smart."

"I didn't say I'd waltz," I mutter. "I said I'd scout. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

Goldy sighs. "You two need to stop doing this before I molt from secondhand stress."

Victor, of course, stays silent. Probably waiting to see if someone actually starts stabbing.

Tch. Whether Vex likes it or not, this is the best call.

If that checkpoint really is the Lunerian one Tessa remembers… then it might be the one place in this whole cursed zone where I can actually stand under light again. And maybe—maybe—be strong enough for what's coming next.

Vex grumbles, a low irritated buzz through the psychic link. "Tch. Fine. Do what you want. But who's following you then?"

I don't even hesitate. "Tessa."

She straightens beside me, already nodding before I finish the sentence. "Obviously."

"The rest of you can press on," I continue. "Deliver the contract to Mother, head to the Fifth Zone. We'll catch up when we can."

Goldy hums, a rare flicker of softness in her tone. "Alright, sis. Be careful, though."

"I will," I mutter.

"And you, Vex—you better evolve up soon and stop being a useless sack of venom."

Vex makes an indignant noise from his cocoon. "I will evolve when my body is ready, not when you're done insulting it, thank you."

I snort. "Try evolving into something less mouthy."

"Try evolving into something less self-righteous."

Tessa chuckles, low and warm. "Okay, Mom and Dad, let's not argue in front of the children."

I roll my eyes and sling my gear tighter across my back.

"Come on, mutt. We've got a moon to chase."

She grins, fangs flashing. "Lead the way, your royal crankiness."

We step into the dark.
The rest move on ahead.

Let's see if that checkpoint's real.
And if it is…
Let's see what kind of light still waits for me there.

I watch them go.

Victor leads, tall and silent, Goldy swaying lazily on his back like royalty on parade. Spiky lumbers behind him, steady and reliable, with Vex muttering something venomous from inside his cocoon. Misa and Rin follow closely, still twitchy from the last fight but sharper for it. My brood. My—family, for lack of a better word.

And now I'm walking the other way.

Strange.

I've been with them since the day I hatched, since I squirmed out of that silken clutch and started crawling toward whatever this world would throw at us. We've fought, bled, eaten nightmares, and made each other miserable through it all. And now I'm parting from them like this is just… normal.

Tch.

Feels wrong.

I can still feel them in my senses — faint pulses, receding, like warm lights vanishing into fog.

Tessa walks beside me, tail swaying low, not saying much. She doesn't have to. Her presence is steady enough.

I glance at her. "You sure you're good with this?"

She shrugs. "You didn't even finish the sentence before I said yes."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Silence stretches between us.

Then she adds, "I miss them already."

"…Same."

But I keep walking.

We have our own path now.

Just a little detour.

Nothing permanent.

Just two monsters, chasing moonlight.

I pull out the map again, the parchment still faintly crinkled from when I folded it too fast earlier. It's rough, uneven, scrawled by someone with more panic than penmanship, but it does the job.

I hold it under Tessa's flame-light, squinting at the faded marks.

"Alright… according to this mess," I mutter, tracing a shaky tunnel line with one claw, "we're here. Somewhere near this split—see the double bend?"

Tessa leans in. "Yeah. That weird loopy part that looks like someone sneezed mid-drawing?"

"Exactly."

I shift my claw upward, toward one of the circled symbols.

"And the closest checkpoint should be here. Just past this curve, near that spiral mark. Probably the lake. That could be the Lunerian spot."

Tessa tilts her head. "That's, what, a couple hours' crawl?"

"If we don't get lost," I mutter.

"...We're totally getting lost."

I sigh and roll the map halfway shut. "Don't jinx it."

We start moving.

Moonlight or not, we're going to find out what's waiting at that checkpoint.

And hopefully not die before I can recharge.

Hours pass.

We move. We crawl. We climb. We curse.

The tunnel bends like it's trying to lose us — spiraling through roots, dead-end forks, and one incredibly rude hole that tried to swallow Tessa whole. She bit it back. Literally.

Along the way, we run into monsters. Not too many, but enough to remind us we're not alone down here. Worms with blade mouths. Some kind of screaming centipede thing that tried to molt mid-fight. Gross.

We take them down. Clean. Quick. Efficient. Tessa's faster now, sharper. I don't have to say a word — she's already where I need her to be.

We eat what we can. Strip the good parts, spit out the bad. It's not gourmet, but it keeps us going. My stomach doesn't complain.

Still no humans.

Which is weird.

This part of the map had markings. Paths. Signs of movement.

But aside from bloodstains dried long ago and the occasional snapped arrow shaft wedged in the wall, we haven't seen a single one.

Not yet.

Tessa glances at me after the last fight, panting slightly. "Still think this was a good idea?"

I shrug, wiping ichor off my foreleg. "Not dead yet."

"Comforting."

We press on.

Closer now. I can feel it. The stone smells different. The air's cooler.

The checkpoint's near.

And whatever's there… we're about to find out.

The tunnel ahead starts to widen — the air shifts, gets cooler, damper. I can smell water. Faint moss. That soft, mana-rich scent that means we're close.

"Alright," I mutter. "Checkpoint should be right—"

Something slashes across my side.

Fast. Sharp. Too fast to dodge fully. Pain flares up in my flank as I stagger back, hissing.

"What the—!"

I spin, spines half-drawn, senses flaring in all directions—
And then I see it.

Not with my eyes. With my sense.

Sleek. Low to the ground. Muscles coiled like wire. Blacker than the dark itself, with glowing slit eyes and claws that drip a quiet hunger. Like it was built for murder in silence.

A cat.

No—a panther-shaped nightmare.

Tessa's growl erupts beside me, fire starting to smolder from her paws. "Dusk Stalkers," she spits.

The way she says it—low, bitter, almost venomous.

Her ears are flat. Her stance was all muscle memory and pain.

"I hate these things."

The creature flicks its tail once, melting into the shadows again. Gone. Not gone.

I narrow my eyes. "Guess the welcome party found us first."

Tessa's eyes blaze in the dark, and her voice cuts through the air like a growl wrapped in grief.

"You… you guys killed Brother Wolf."

She's not looking at me. She's looking into the dark, into the place where that Dusk Stalker vanished.

"I saw it," she snarls. "You swarmed him. While Mama was busy fighting the Green Stalker. He was protecting us, and you—" her voice cracks, fangs bared— "you butchered him."

I shift beside her, heart suddenly heavy.

"Tessa, wait," I say quickly, "we don't even know if it's the same ones."

Her breath comes hot, fast. The embers under her paws are already rising. "I don't care. They're the same kind. That's enough."

"Tessa—"

"No," she snaps, voice trembling with fury. "They didn't give him mercy. I'm not giving them anything."

She crouches low, muscles twitching, eyes locked into the dark like a predator born and sharpened on that one memory.

Tch.

She's not just fighting for survival anymore.

This just got personal.

Tessa bursts into flame.

Not the slow, simmering kind—ignition. A heatwave explodes off her body as her paws light up with searing fire, eyes burning brighter than any torch.

She howls, low and feral, and pounces.

Her target doesn't even have time to hiss before she crashes into it mid-shadow, fire lashing around them like a living inferno. They tumble into the dark with a spray of blood and smoke.

But I don't have time to watch.

Because the second one is already moving.

I feel it—slicing low through the air, claws raised, heading straight for her exposed back while she's still grappling.

No. Too fast.

But I'm faster.

My spines flash out in a crescent arc, and I lunge sideways into its path, knocking the strike off-course just as it lunges.

It skids back, hissing—long limbs coiled, muscles twitching beneath pitch-black fur. Teeth bared.

Come on.

Let's see if you bleed in the dark.

My legs anchor against the stone. The creature tenses, low and twitching like a spring about to snap.

Perfect.

I draw the energy up from my core. Magic courses along my spine, cold and sharp like a thread pulled too tight. The air hums around me.

Time to test it.

"Arcane Blast."

The words leave my mouth like a trigger.

A pulse of compressed mana erupts from my thorax, raw and spiraling with violet-white energy. It doesn't just shoot — it shoves the air out of its way, a cannon of force that lights up the tunnel for a flash.

The Dusk Stalker's eyes widen just a split-second before it hits.

BOOM—!

The blast slams into its side, launching it off its feet and crashing it into the tunnel wall with a sound like bones and stone being smashed in the same breath. Dust explodes from the impact. Something cracks. Hard.

The glow fades.

I lower my head slightly, panting.

The creature's body twitches once, then slumps.

Still breathing.

But not for long.

"Tch," I mutter, "not bad."

My first real Arcane Blast.

And it felt good.

It twitches—then launches.

Fast. Way faster than I expected.

It moves in a jagged zigzag, cutting angles through the air like it's rewriting physics. My senses scream as it closes the distance. I snap my thorax forward and fire—

Arcane Blast—!
Too late. Too wild. It misses, smashing into the stone and detonating dust and sparks behind it.

The Dusk Stalker's already in my face.

Its claws flash, aimed for my side. I twist, flexing hard—spines erupting toward the direction of the strike.

Schlick—!
They connect. My spines tear into its flank mid-lunge. It shrieks, skidding off-course—

—but not before its claws rake across my armor.

"Tch—!"

Pain bursts across my side. Hot. Deep. Not just a graze.

We both stumble back, bleeding.

I clamp down, gritting my teeth. That wasn't clean. Not at all.

Fourth Zone monsters don't play fair. They don't die easily. And they definitely don't go down alone.

No wonder Tessa hates these things.

I glance down—blood's leaking between my plating. Not life-threatening. But I feel it. Heavy. Sharp. Too real.

"Damn," I hiss, steadying my stance again. "Fourth Zone really doesn't mess around."

It snarls—then leaps.

Mid-air. High. Fast.

Heh. Rookie mistake.

I don't wait. I fire.

A full volley of Arcane Spines—six of them, sharp, humming, glowing with coiled energy. They spiral toward it in a tight burst.

But just as they're about to land—

—It jumps again.

Mid-air.

Like it stepped on something invisible. Like there was a platform in the air that no one else could see.

"What the—?!"

It launches off that unseen point, twisting mid-flight and completely dodging my volley. The spines sail harmlessly past, striking stone with a series of bright CRACK-CRACK-CRACK behind it.

Tessa growls from the side. "They do that. They cheat."

"Thanks for the late warning!"

It's already descending again, claws glinting, body coiled for another strike.

And now I'm mad.

Invisible mid-air jumps? Seriously?

Guess it's time to fight dirty too.

Alright.

No more holding back.

As it comes down on me—mid-air, claws gleaming, momentum behind it like a living missile—I make a choice.

I flex.

Every part of my body.

Thorax, abdomen, legs, and even the ridges along my shell. Every segment tightens, channels mana, and focuses.

And then—

I unload.

Spines. Everywhere.

Not just a volley—a storm.

They fire from every angle, every joint, every edge of me like a living landmine detonating in all directions. Arcane-charged, razor-sharp, and absolutely not precision-guided. Just pure chaotic spray.

The Dusk Stalker doesn't even have time to react.

It dives into the kill—
—and dives straight into a cloud of death.

Thwip-thwip-CRUNCH—!

It screams, spinning mid-air as spines rip through its flank, shoulder, leg—jagged trails of black ichor bursting out as it crashes to the ground hard, a mess of limbs and blood and clawed frustration.

I stagger a little. That much recoil hurts. But I stay up.

The monster writhes. Twitches. Coughs up something wet.

Then stills.

"Yeah," I pant. "Try air-stepping your way out of that, you bouncy freak."

End of Chapter 48