The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

Barbarian. Rogue. Mage. Support.

Four of them. All human. All sharp.

"The one holding Goldy," I say, narrowing my eyes, "that's the support."

He's in the back. Robed. Calm. Arms wrapped tight around her cocoon like he's shielding it from more than just us. Goldy twitches weakly, but she's not moving.

Still alive though.

The Mage stands just ahead of him, hands already glowing.

The Rogue is pacing left, blades drawn, steps light. Watching Morven.

And front and center, the Barbarian. Axe down, shoulders squared. Breathing steady. Waiting for the moment I move.

He won't have to wait long.

The humans hold a tight semi-circle around the Support—the one clutching Goldy like she's part of the formation itself. None of them moves. They're watching. Measuring. Waiting.

Vex doesn't.

His cocoon hums, then fires—a full barrage of venomous spines, sharp and fast, tearing through the air toward their line.

The Barbarian stomps.

Stone cracks. A shockwave bursts out from his feet, and just like before, the spines are thrown off-course mid-flight—sent scattering across the ground like dead needles.

"Tch," Vex snaps through the link. "He keeps doing that."

I dart forward, breaking from our side, aiming straight for the Support—cut through, get Goldy out.

But the Rogue's already there.

He slides in smooth, silent, intercepting my path with both blades drawn. I shift, forced into defense as he presses fast and sharp. Not strong, but damn precise. Every time I try to break past, he cuts the angle.

Then I see it—just past him, in my peripheral.

The Mage.

Hands raised, a spell forming in front of his chest—lines of light spinning fast, aimed at Vex.

Before it finishes, it flickers out. Gone.

Behind me, Morven's voice cuts through flat and calm.

"Counterspell."

"Seriously, that is one busted ability you have there," as I twist sideways, barely slipping past the Rogue's blade.

He follows up instantly—sharp, low strike aimed at my legs. I hop back, flexing my bristles to keep him from closing in.

Morven's voice stays maddeningly calm. "It's called control. You should try it sometime."

"I'll try it after this guy stops trying to fillet me!"

The Rogue says nothing, but his grin widens. He's enjoying this.

Tch. So am I.

Behind me, Morven raises his hand, fingers crackling with controlled arcs of magic. He hurls a focused blast toward the Mage—not enough to kill, but enough to disrupt.

It lands.

The Mage stumbles, caught mid-cast, forced to stagger back and reposition. Her formation shatters. Good.

I look aside.

The Barbarian doesn't flinch. He roars and starts charging—straight at Vex.

But Vex is ready.

His cocoon pulses faintly, and a loose chunk of stone nearby lifts into the air. His telekinesis grips it tight, then hurls it forward with a sharp snap.

It slams into the Barbarian's shoulder, hard enough to stagger him mid-sprint. He doesn't fall, but he slows. That's all we need.

I rush the Rogue.

He darts to intercept, daggers slicing with deadly speed—but I'm faster now.

Lunar Ascension floods through me—silver light pulsing at my joints, mind sharp, body lighter.

I duck under his left blade, parry the right, and slam forward with a shoulder check. He reels back.

I keep pushing, spines flaring, forcing him away from the line.

Their formation cracks.

I keep rushing the Rogue, not giving him an inch.

He dances back, blades flicking out in quick, controlled arcs—trying to bait and slip around my guard.

But I'm not playing fair.

I press harder—mandibles feinting low, bristles flaring, steps unpredictable. He blocks one, two, then stumbles just half a step out of rhythm.

That's all I need.

I summon a crescent blade.

Silver light flashes into existence at my side, humming faintly as it spins mid-air.

He sees it too late.

I send it slicing in from the flank—low, tight, sharp. It catches him just above the ribs, slicing clean across.

He grunts, recoils, tries to pivot—

I don't let him.

Alright—he's bleeding, off-balance, wide open. That should give me time to finish him.

But I don't.

Because the Barbarian's closing in fast—shoulders low, axe raised, charging at Vex like a battering ram with no brakes.

I pivot, leaving the Rogue behind.

He can bleed for a bit.

I launch forward, kicking up stone, silver light still flaring across my limbs from Lunar Ascension. Vex rises slightly, trying to buy space, but he's still a fresh evolved cocooned—he can't dodge like I can.

So I meet the Barbarian head-on.

Our bodies collide—axe against mandibles, bristle against brute strength.

The impact rattles my shell, but I dig in, locking blades and spines.

He growls, pushing forward.

I grin. "You want Vex?"

"You go through me first."

The Support lifts his hand again, this time his palm aimed squarely at the Barbarian. A soft, golden shimmer wraps around him—faint at first, then surging into his limbs like liquid muscle.

The Barbarian grins.

Then he slams into me with his arms, full force.

I brace, but it's not enough. The impact hits like a collapsing wall—I'm thrown back, skidding across the stone. My claws drag hard, sparks flying until I come to a stop.

"What the hell was that!?" I snap, spitting dust. "And why didn't you counterspell or whatever the hell that was!?"

Behind me, Morven's voice stays steady. "Even I have limits."

I twist back toward him. "That looked very counterable!"

"It was subtle. Quiet. Mana woven through physical motion. That kind of thing's hard to trace unless you're already watching for it."

He lifts his hand again, casting something new, eyes narrowed.

"I'll keep an eye on him," he says. "You just try not to get launched again."

Tch. I'm gonna make that Barbarian regret touching me.

I face the Barbarian again, claws digging into the stone as I steady myself. My crescent blade hums beside me, spinning slow, sharp, ready.

I send it flying.

It cuts through the air like a silver arc, aimed clean for his side.

But he ducks low—surprisingly fast for someone his size—and it sails past him, slicing a shallow groove in the wall behind.

Then he charges.

Axe raised. Feet pounding. Eyes locked on me like I'm nothing but a target.

No hesitation. No flair. Just raw momentum coming straight at me.

I flex my spines just as he closes in.

The axe comes down with a roar, heavy and brutal—but my bristles are already flared, silver-tipped and stiff with mana.

The blade meets my defense with a deafening clang.

Sparks fly.

The impact sends a shock through my shell, but I hold. My bristles catch and slow the strike, locking the axe just inches from my face.

We clash—locked in close, strength straining against instinct.

His eyes widen slightly. Not used to something stopping him mid-swing.

Good.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Neither am I.

"Vex," I grunt, still braced against the Barbarian's axe, "a little bit of help here?"

For a second, nothing.

Then a dry psychic reply hums through my skull:
"You looked like you had it."

"I'm the one getting crushed by a walking tree trunk."

"Fine."

A split second later, three venomous spines whip past me—fast, precise.

They slam into the Barbarian's side—one in the shoulder, two in the thigh.

He grunts, falters, his grip on the axe loosening just enough.

I twist, shove him back with a snarl.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome, dear sister," Vex says, dripping with mock formality.

Tch. About time.

Vex's spines hit—clean shots, right into the meat of the Barbarian's shoulder and thigh.

Normally, that's it.

Anyone else would be twitching on the ground right now, already paralyzed or halfway foaming. That venom wrecks most things—flesh, blood, nerves.

Except for the occasional skeleton.

Or a hardass Myconid.

The Barbarian staggers, teeth gritting, a sickly green pulse spreading out from the impact points. It's working—just not fast enough.

He reaches up with a trembling hand and rips the spine from his shoulder. Not cleanly. I see the pain in his eyes—he feels every second of it.

He mutters something in Common Tongue. Harsh. Guttural. I don't understand the words, but I understand the tone.

He's not backing down.

From behind him, the Support calls out and tosses something—fast and underhanded. A small glass bottle arcs through the air.

The Barbarian catches it with one hand, uncorks it with his teeth, and downs the contents in one motion.

Tch. Great. Antidote. Buffer. Who knows.

But now he's really pissed.

The Mage starts casting something again—hands shifting fast, circles forming in the air.

Then the smoke rolls in.

No… not smoke. Fog.

Thick, clinging, unnatural fog that spreads across the stone like it's being poured from every crack in the cave.

I squint into it. "Really? Fog? We're literally in a pitch-black cave," I mutter.

But then I feel it.

My spatial sense—normally clear even in total darkness—blurs. Edges dull. Presence fades. It's like trying to feel the shape of a thought through water.

Oh how I wish I were wrong, I think, jaw tight. Because right now? The one sense I'm relying on is barely working.

Vex floats higher, rising just above the curtain of fog.

Then—he fires.

Venomous spines streak through the air. One cuts through the spell rings in front of the Mage. The others arc toward the Support in the back.

The Mage jerks, his casting hand twitching. The flow of mana breaks just enough—the fog thins, flickers, stutters in its spread.

The Support reacts fast, raising a glowing barrier. The spines slam into it—two bounce off with a hiss, one digs in before melting away in a thin trail of green acid.

He holds, barely.

And out of nowhere—I get sent flying.

One moment I'm mid-step, trying to refocus through this damn fog, and the next—

Wham.

Something massive slams into my side like a boulder with legs.

I don't even get a chance to brace. My senses are too dulled to pick it up. Can't feel the approach. Can't read the movement.

Just force. Sudden. Crushing.

I hit the ground hard, slide across stone, bristles scraping, sparks flying.

"Tch—obviously the Barbarian," I hiss, claws digging in as I stop myself.

I shove up, breath sharp. My shell's aching, but I'm not broken.

As I push myself up, the fog finally starts to thin. Shapes come into focus—just shadows at first, then sharper.

And there he is.

The Barbarian.

Mid-air. Axe raised, muscles coiled, diving straight for Vex like a meat missile.

I barely get the word out—"Vex!"—before something shifts.

A fwoon—like air folding in on itself.

The Barbarian stops mid-air. Just—halted, like he slammed into an invisible wall.

Then he gets launched.

Straight backward. His body twists, crashing into the cavern wall with a bone-rattling thud.

Vex hovers where he was, his eyes narrowed, soft green glow humming around him.

"Telekinesis," he says flatly.
"You're welcome. Again."

Tch. Show-off.

I didn't even notice until now, but across the fading fog, I catch Morven mid-clash with the Rogue.

His cockatrice arm is moving fast, parrying the Rogue's twin daggers in tight, efficient arcs. Bone and steel grind with every strike, each one too close for comfort.

But then I spot it.

The Rogue. He's not bleeding.

I know I hit him earlier. Crescent blade to the ribs—deep, clean, no way he walked that off.

Now? Nothing. Not even a scratch.

Morven doesn't look my way. "Healing potion," he says through clenched teeth. "Slipped it while I was pushing him back. Clever bastard."

Tch. Great. Just what we needed—more delay.

"Keep him in position, Morven," I say, eyes locked on the Rogue.

Morven doesn't answer this time—just shifts his stance, tightening the pressure, forcing the Rogue to duck low and pivot hard. He's doing exactly what I need.

I start charging it—Lunar Beam.

The crescent plate on my thorax glows, slow at first, then faster. Runes all over my body light up like silver veins.

The air around me chills. My focus narrows.

Just a few more seconds. Hold him still, Morven. Just a little longer.

Morven catches on fast.

He shifts again, steps into the Rogue's movement, and with a twist of his cockatrice arm, locks him—just long enough.

That's all I need.

I fire.

The glow surges into a sharp, concentrated blast—Lunar Beam.

It cuts through the fog like a blade of silver light, dead silent, dead straight.

It hits.

The Rogue doesn't even scream. Just gets blasted off his feet, sent flying backward like a ragdoll into the cavern wall.

Direct hit.

He's not getting back up from that.

I turn, eyes locking onto the Barbarian—just in time to see him pushing himself up from the crater Vex slammed him into.

Stone cracks fall from his shoulders. He groans, one arm trembling slightly, but that dumb, wild grin is still on his face.

He's standing.

Of course he is.

"Seriously?" I mutter.

Vex floats higher, silent and watching. The air between us thickens again.

Round two.

I summon two crescent blades this time—both orbiting at my sides like hungry moons.

He dodged one earlier. It blinked out after missing.

Let's see how he handles two.

I don't say anything. Just step forward, eyes on him, the blades spinning faster.

He cracks his neck and squares his stance, still holding that oversized axe like it weighs nothing.

Good. Let's dance.

"Morven," I say, keeping my eyes on the Barbarian. "Go after the mage. Let me handle this musclehead."

He doesn't argue. Just shifts direction and breaks into a sprint toward the backline, his cockatrice arm already reshaping, fingers sharpening.

The Barbarian's eyes twitch toward him—but only for a second.

Then he looks back at me.

I roll my neck, controlling both crescent blades.

"Eyes on me," I mutter. "This won't take long."

He grins—and tightens his grip on that massive axe like he's ready to split me in half. Fine. Let him try.

The blades circle wider, one high, one low. I stay still. Let the tension build.

Then I launch the first one.

He dodges left—predictable—but I already sent the second one curving up from below.

This time, he has to block it. Steel meets force, his axe ringing as the blade knocks him a half step back. Not enough to wound, but enough to make a point.

I dash in.

He swings low, a wide arc meant to split me in half. I leap over it, bristles twitching, silver light rippling along my body.

Mid-air, I twist and lash at him with my mandibles—he barely ducks, but one of the crescent blades nicks his shoulder.

He growls.

Good. That got through.

I don't give him time to reset.

While he's off-balance from the crescent blade, I rush in and cling to his side—legs locking tight around his arm and ribs, my grip anchoring deep into the gaps of that rough leather armor.

Then I bite.

Right into the soft part below his shoulder—just above the ribs. No metal. Just sweaty hide and flesh. I feel it gives under pressure, and I clamp harder.

He roars—stumbles—tries to throw me off, but I'm latched. I can feel the heat of his blood leaking around my mandibles, every twitch in his body feeding my momentum.

"Not so tough without your little buffs, huh?" I snarl, muffled by the meat in my jaws.

He's trying to grab me—thick hand swinging around fast—but before it can even brush me, I summon and launch a crescent blade straight at it.

It slices across his wrist with a clean arc.

He grunts, recoiling, his fingers twitching from the sudden gash. Not deep enough to sever, but enough to stop that grab.

"Hands off," I hiss, still clinging to his side.

But then—a firebolt strikes through. I didn't even notice it.

It hits hard, and I get launched, rolling across the stone floor with a sharp, burning sting tearing through my side. It hurts—hell yeah it hurts—but it could've been worse. No puncture. Just fire. Still smoldering.

I grunt, forcing myself up, jaw clenched. Who the hell did that? The mage's busy trading spells with Morven—there's no way it was her.

My eyes snap to the support.

Oh.

Of course.

He's holding Goldy with one hand and hurling spells with the other.

"Vex!?" I bark, flicking my eyes toward him, still floating nearby.

He stares.

"What are you doing!? That one's literally cooking me alive!"

Vex floats, venom spines twitching.

"Tch. Multitasking," he mutters, then turns toward the support. "Fine. I'll stab that one next."

I barely get the chance to stand—legs still shaky, vision blurred—when I hear that thunderous sprint again.

The Barbarian's already on me.

His axe slams into my side before I can even react properly, the blow sending me skidding across the stone like a kicked beetle. I crash hard, pain blooming across my thorax

Damn—
Is it just me, or is he faster now?
And that hit—definitely harder than before.

Something's off. Either the support buffed him again... or I'm starting to slow down.

Or… yikes.

Typical damn Barbarian.

The longer they fight, the harder they hit. Burn more energy, get more dangerous. Like some dumb rage-fueled blender with a brain cell and a half.

I cough, pushing myself up again. My legs ache. My carapace smokes. But I'm still here.

"Alright, brickhead," I mutter. "Round three."

Using that logic… which means…

He's dumber now.

Which also means—

I snap my focus back.

The crescent blades I summoned earlier? Still spinning in the background.

I send them.

One curves wide, the other low. No fancy tricks—just clean, punishing arcs right as he lumbers forward like a rabid ox.

Let's see that single brain cell keep up now.

He barely dodges—again—but the blades keep tearing at him, and he doesn't even flinch. Just keeps charging like a damn freight train on fire.

Bleeding. Burned. Stupid.

"Alright, buddy," I growl, locking eyes.

I open my mouth wide, silver glow flaring up like a rising tide.

Lunar Beam.

It fires—fast, bright, unrelenting.

He takes it head-on.

No dodging. No shielding. Just brute-force stupidity.

The beam slams into his chest and grinds him to a halt—boots skidding back across the stone, muscles tensed, leather sizzling.

He doesn't fall, but he's not moving forward anymore either.

That'll do.

As I let the beam pour out, searing silver carving through the gloom, he's still moving toward me. One step. Then another. Ankles dragging. Arms shaking. That axe raised like it's personal.

Seriously, what kind of stupid do you get when you're maining this class?

I mean—at some point, pain should register, right?

But nope. He's gritting his teeth like that's a substitute for brain cells. The only thing keeping him upright is raw rage and whatever steroid prayer his support whispered earlier.

"Idiot," I mutter, tightening my stance. "You're not winning a staring contest with a death ray, moron."

Then I stop the beam.

The light cuts out, leaving a scorched path and silence.

He stands there—barely—steam rising from his body, the axe still clenched in one trembling hand.

One second.
Two.
Three.

Then he drops.

Just collapses like a sack of overcooked meat, crashing face-first into the stone. The axe clatters beside him, useless.

Finally.

I get close to him.

He's still breathing. Barely. Body wrecked, blood pooling under him, but alive.

Alright. To finish him.

I have to.

But—why?

Why am I still hesitating?

They attacked my brood.
They kidnapped Goldy.
They killed Rin.

I repeat it in my head like it'll flip the switch. Like the rage should make this easy.

But it doesn't.

The crescent blade floats, unmoving. My mandibles clench.

Damn it… Why won't my body move?

I channel every inch of my resolve.

No more hesitation. No more mercy.

This is for Goldy. For Victor. For Spiky. For Rin.

With a swift strike—
The crescent blade flashes down.
No sound. No drama. Just the clean end of a life.

He stops breathing.

I stand there for a second, staring down at the body.

Then I let the blade fade.

And move on.

Ahead, I can see it—Morven's already wrapping things up.

The mage tries flinging spell after spell in desperation, but Morven just walks. Calm. Measured. Every incantation snuffed out with a flick of his hand or a pulse of energy.

He gets closer. And closer.

Then—
One clean slash.

The mage hits the ground. No noise. No resistance.

Just done.

As for the support—well, let's just say he's green now, full of venom. Barely breathing. Twitching in the dirt like a poisoned rat.

His fingers go slack.
Goldy slips from his grasp, her cocoon thudding softly to the ground.

As for the rogue?
I knocked him down with the beam earlier—Morven made sure he stayed down. One clean follow-up, no theatrics.

They're all down now.

We won.

They're down. Goldy's safe. Vex is still floating. Morven's already checking bodies like it's just another day.

But me?

I just stand there.

We won… yet why do I feel so wrong?

Why do I feel…
empty?
Cold?
Heavy?

Like something cracked in me the moment I struck that final blow.

Like this wasn't a victory. Just another line crossed.

Because I was a human.
And I just killed another one.

What's wrong with that?

They struck first.
They took Goldy.
They killed Rin.

It was self-defense.
It was justified.

So why does it feel like I'm trying to convince myself?
Why does it feel like I lost something too?

I clench my mandibles.

This shouldn't bother me.
But it does.

Then I feel a tap on my thorax.

Morven.

He doesn't say anything at first. Just looks at me with those weirdly calm, knowing eyes.

"…You did what you had to," he says, quietly. "Even if it doesn't feel like it yet."

I don't answer.
Not right away.

Because he's not wrong.
And that somehow makes it worse.

"Well, what do you even know about me anyway?" I snap, more bitter than I mean to.

Morven doesn't flinch. He just tilts his head slightly, his voice even, like he's talking about the weather.

"You said you're not of this world," he replies. "I figured you were human. Like me."

That shuts me up.

"...You're human?" I say, not sure if it's disbelief or accusation.

He gives a slow nod. "Was. Kind of still am. It's… complicated."

Of course it is. With him, it's always complicated.

"Let's talk about it later. Check on your sister first," Morven says.

I glance back at him, then at Goldy's cocoon lying quietly on the ground.

"…Yeah."

I move toward her without another word. Whatever I'm feeling—guilt, confusion, all of it—it can wait.

Goldy comes first.

End of Chapter 56