The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

We're moving.

Back on track, retracing the path my family took. If we keep this pace, we'll catch up before long—assuming they're not already knee-deep in something stupid. I'd like to believe they're smart enough to avoid trouble, but this is the Fourth Zone we're talking about.

And as usual, it's dark as hell.

No light. No echoes. Just the damp breath of a dungeon. My senses stretch out. Tessa pads beside me, her tail low, ears twitching like radar. Morven walks behind us, strangely quiet. He's probably mentally assembling some cosmic puzzle again.

And then I feel it.

Something ahead. The ripple of motion, the scent of tension, iron, blood. We creep forward until the edge of the ridge gives us a view.

There it is.

A scene sprawled out like a painted warning.

Humans.

Again.

What the hell is this zone, seriously? We barely saw humans in the last ones. Just bones. And sometimes the bones moved, and were hostile, but that's besides the point. Here? It's like human infestation season. This is the second time in just a short time. And this time, they're not fighting us.

They're fighting bats.

No—bats would be an insult. These things are huge, silent, and unnervingly fast. Their wings don't flap, they carve. Their mouths stretch too wide, filled with echoing screeches and dagger-like teeth. A human screams as one of the things slams into him and lifts him right off the ground.

I glance at Tessa. Her fur's on end, her eyes hard. "I thought the only thing worse than humans were flying things," I mutter.

She nods. "Both at once? That's just rude."

"What stands in the way becomes the way," I whisper, quoting that old survival mantra. Sounds noble. Mostly it just means: suck it up.

And right now?

This road to my family is paved with corpses-in-progress.

Tessa huffs beside me, squinting at the chaos below. "I fought bats before. Gloom Bats. Weak, screechy little things. Annoying, but not scary. But these ones…" Her voice lowers. "They're not like what I remembered. Bigger. Meaner. Like nightmares with wings."

Morven tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Gloom Bats?" he echoes—then his gaze flicks to me, confused. Oh, right. He still can't understand her unless she speaks his language or psychic.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll translate," I mutter, already projecting the message into his head. She's saying they don't look like normal bats. Gloom Bats are smaller, harmless. These things? Not so much.

Morven exhales, then shifts his stance slightly. "From my knowledge… those are Noctiphage." His tone drops a pitch. "They are… they're… they…"

Oh no.

His pupils dilate, his voice starts to tremble. "They are the silence between memory and scream, the falling of stars that eat their own light—"

I shoot out a foreleg and jab him in the ribs—gently, but with intent.

"Alright, that's enough thinking, buddy," I cut in. "No poetry hour. Focus."

He blinks, startled, as if waking up from a dream. "Yes. Sorry. They're dangerous. Let's leave it at that."

What do we do? I said. The humans and those bats are really duking it out, should we wait or what?

I squint through the dark—two humans, not a full party. One's all decked in armor, sword and shield up, classic tanker. The other's robed, staff glowing, definitely a mage. They're surrounded, four of those huge bats diving and screeching, wings slicing the air like blades. Noctiphage, Morven called them. Real charming name.

"They're outnumbered," I mutter.

Tessa tilts her head. "They're struggling too."

The mage casts a spell, barely forming a barrier before a bat slams into it. Cracks spread through the shield like it's glass. The armored one tries to draw the bats' attention, but he's already bleeding, limping slightly.

I glance at Tessa. She meets my eyes, unsure.

"I mean… we could help," she says.

Morven shifts behind us, silent.

Or we could just wait. Let the problem solve itself.

The tanker tries to cut the bat—but the damn thing just wheels back into the air, out of reach. Then another swoops from behind, claws dragging across the metal of his armor with a piercing screech. He stumbles, barely keeping his footing. The mage behind him hurls a streak of fire that misses entirely and slams into the cave wall. Yeah, they're not doing great.

Yikes. I do kinda feel bad for them though, not gonna lie.

I glance sideways at Morven, who's been eerily still. "Hey," I mutter. "Should we help them or what?"

He hums, studying the scene. "From their attire, equipment, and their formation… they're probably regular adventurers."

There it is—adventurers. A staple of every fantasy world, of course. As if elves weren't enough already.

Tessa stretches beside me, her claws twitching with heat. "I've never seen a bat dodge like that before. Are they part hummingbird?"

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"Those are Noctiphage," Morven murmurs. "Fast. Unpredictable. Not to be underestimated."

I sigh, already knowing where this is going. "Alright. Let's go make some new friends. Or corpses. We'll see how they take it."

The mage starts chanting, hands glowing with that familiar build-up of unstable magic. He doesn't even notice the bat cutting through the air like a thrown blade—fast, low, silent.

"Tessa—" I don't even finish the thought.

She's already gone.

A blur of reddish heat streaks ahead of us. She slams into the path of the charging Noctiphage with a sharp burst of flame, claws out, eyes locked. The impact shakes the cave dust loose from the ceiling, and I swear I hear the mage yelp in pure confusion.

Tessa pounces—fast, fluid, all instinct. She slams into the bat mid-charge, and the two of them go tumbling. The bat screeches as it skids along the ground, wings flailing, but Tessa's already on top of it, jaws locked around its throat.

She growls low, her reddish-bronze fur flickering with heat as she bites down harder, pinning the flapping wings beneath her weight. The bat thrashes, but she doesn't let go. Not until it stops moving.

The bats and humans turn their attention towards Tessa. Two of the bats withdraw from the tanker and streak toward her, wings slicing through the air. They're aiming to pull her off, to help the one pinned beneath her.

I dart forward and launch a precise Arcane Spine shot, aiming between the flurry of wings. One spine clips a bat in the side, knocking it slightly off-course, but it still barrels ahead. The second one shrieks and drops lower, going for a flank.

Tessa doesn't flinch. She bites down hard, a crunch echoing as the pinned bat lets out a final spasm beneath her. She pushes off just in time—barely avoiding a claw swipe from one of the oncoming bats.

Morven swings his arm outward, murmuring something under his breath. A pulse of wind bursts forth again, forcing one bat to lose altitude. It tumbles, disoriented, before righting itself midair.

The armored human, now free, charges toward the distracted bat, shield raised and sword ready.

Then he strikes—a clean slash. That makes two down.

One more flails midair, barely managing to stay up. My spines did their job—its wing's shredded, twitching uselessly. The mage raises his staff, locking onto it.

And—fwoosh—fireball. Direct hit.

It crashes down in a trail of smoke and heat. One left.

Then there's one left, circling frantically—panicked, jittery, zigzagging above like it can't decide if it should fight or flee. The fight or flight response—no pun intended—must be going wild in its brain right now.

But before it can decide, Tessa leaps from the wall—flames licking at her paws mid-air—as she lunges straight toward it. The bat twists hard, wings snapping open to dodge at the last second.

Too slow.

I follow up with a spine, fired dead center.

Direct hit to the chest.

It lets out a strained screech, flails in the air for a heartbeat—and crashes down.

Bats down. Silence settles—brief, taut.

The two humans stare at us, weapons raised but hesitant. The tank steps slightly forward, shield half-lowered, eyes scanning Tessa's bloodied maw, Morven's calm posture, and—well—me, spines still half-raised from that last shot.

Then the mage says something. Fast, clipped Common Tongue. His voice trembles a bit. I catch none of it. Just tone.

"…Yeah, no clue what that was," I mutter.

Morven tilts his head. "He asked if we're going to attack."

"Oh," I say. "Well, that's fair."

I keep my stance still—alert but not hostile. Tessa's tail flicks once, but she doesn't move. The two adventurers don't either. Everyone is just watching everyone else like a weird four-species standoff.

Then the mage says something else. Morven snorts softly. "Now he's asking what we are."

Of course.

The tanker, hands still trembling slightly, reaches into a pouch and pulls out—of all things—a fruit. Round, bright-colored, and clearly not meant for combat. He tosses it toward us.

It lands with a soft thud, rolling once before stopping near Tessa's paw.

She tilts her head. "Uh… is this a bribe?"

I squint at the humans, still on guard, their eyes darting between us and the downed bats. The mage is saying something in Common Tongue, but I can't make it out. Morven listens, but doesn't translate yet. Just… watches.

I poke the fruit with a leg.

Tessa sniffs it.

Morven raises one brow. "A peace offering?"

Maybe.

But either way—we're definitely in uncharted territory now.

I glance sideways at Morven. "Well, translation duty's on you now, buddy."

He blinks, then gives a little twitch—his head tilting slightly like something just clicked back into place.

"Oh. Right. They said… something along the lines of: 'We mean no harm. Thank you for your aid.'" He pauses, his tone going neutral. "And the fruit is… apparently an offering. To show we're not enemies."

Tessa squints at the fruit. "Huh. Not poisoned?"

Morven shrugs. "Didn't say anything about poison. But to be fair, they didn't say it's not poisoned either."

"Not helping."

"Well, it smells sweet," I mutter, nudging it toward Tessa. "So if anyone's going to die tasting it, it's you."

She sticks her tongue out. "Gee, thanks."

Still, she cautiously picks it up. The humans stay still, watching. The tension's there, but it's no longer suffocating.

Morven tilts his head, half-curious. "Want me to keep talking to them? Or are we doing the whole silent, intimidating monster routine a little longer?"

I glance at Morven again. "Well? Still standing there? Ask them again—group of caterpillars, two cocoons, one wrapped in commoner silk. And remind them they're speaking to a genius, so be specific."

Morven exhales but complies, stepping forward and speaking in Common Tongue. The humans talk among themselves for a moment. The mage does most of the replying this time, eyes flicking over us—especially me. Noted.

Morven translates. "They did pass by them. Didn't approach. Apparently, your kind is known for being dangerously coordinated. Strategic. So they avoided contact."

I nod once. "Reasonable."

He continues, a little slower now. "Also… there's been a rise in monster trafficking. The Zahraen Sultanate has started locking things down, tightening movement. The only reason these two are even here is because they're a licensed pair of adventurers. A duo doesn't draw too much suspicion."

Then his voice drops slightly, eyes narrowing at me. "And apparently… the mage says that your species—the royal variant in particular—fetches a very high price in the underground."

I go still. My legs flex, not out of fear, but... instinct.

Tessa bristles beside me, claws tightening. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Relax," I mutter, though my tone's colder than I intended. "They didn't take a shot when they had the chance. Let's not start something unless they start it first."

But my eyes don't leave them.

We're close to the others.

Too close to get careless now.

"Alright, our business here is done," I say, brushing off the last bits of gore. "Let's go find my family."

Just as I start moving, the mage speaks up again—sharp tone, fast words. Morven holds out a hand.

"Wait," he says, eyes distant for a moment as he translates. "He says we should be careful. They passed some people not long ago—monster traffickers. Real ones. Said they looked well-equipped, organized. Dangerous."

I stop cold.

Morven continues. "He said they thought about reporting them to the Zahraen authorities, but… those kinds of people? They've got deep networks. You try and cross them, you end up vanishing. So they let them go."

My stomach twists.
They crossed my brood.
And then traffickers…?

I swallow the rising heat in my throat.

"...I got a bad feeling about this."

"He says be careful," Morven continues.

I nod and move on. We press on toward the direction of my brood.

---

The silk trails grow thicker. Some torn. Some fresh.

"I can smell them," I mutter. "Victor… Vex… even Goldy. They were here."

We pick up speed. Tessa lowers her body, ears perked.

"Something's off," she says.

Morven doesn't speak, but I can feel the mana bristling around him.

Then it hits me—another scent.

"Wait." I stop dead. "Do you smell that?"

Smoke. Burned silk. Blood.

"Damnit… I don't like where this is going."

I stare at the half-burned strand clinging to a thorny root.

Goldy's silk.

I swallow hard. The air feels heavier now.

We keep walking—but slower.

Somewhere up ahead… something's waiting.

End of Chapter 54