The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

After a few unknown, inhuman amount of time.

Not that I'm bragging—

—but I'm evolved now. Again.

Still a cocoon, yeah. Still wrapped up in magical silk like some kind of smug, glowing fruit.

The name? Well, apparently it's called Arcani Lunaris Cocoon. Although there were four other options—Umbrae Lunaris Cocoon, Sigili Lunaris Cocoon, Sacrocum Lunarium Cocoon—but I went with Arcani Lunaris because of the word arcane. And with Morven mentioning the Channeler thingy, I'd like to think this is a step toward it.

And yeah.

I can hover now.

On my own.

Self-powered, self-steering, no longer being dragged around like someone's awkwardly-shaped suitcase. I even got my spine shots back. Yay me.

We're still in the Fourth Zone, of course. Same gloom. Same monsters. Same weird wet cave smells. But now I've got mobility—and more importantly, I've got something to test.

So I do.

Target: one unfortunate, oversized centipede-looking thing that hissed at Tessa.

Outcome: multiple glowing arcane spines through its face.

Nice.

Even in this floaty form, I can tell. I'm stronger. My control's tighter, my aim sharper, and my spellcasting doesn't wobble anymore like it used to. Only downside?

I'm slower.

Hovering isn't the same as crawling or sprinting. It's like swimming through syrup with style. But I can maneuver easier now—thanks to telekinesis. It's subtle, but responsive. Almost like shifting weight in a dream, or flexing phantom muscles that didn't exist before.

It uses mana, though.

Stable hovering? Not bad. Doesn't cost much if I pace myself and take breaks. But sharp turns or speed bursts? Those eat through mana like candy. Morven compared it to running—except I'm burning mana instead of calories, and I don't have the option to just collapse and pant dramatically afterward.

Apparently, my body's still using all its biological energy to process the evolution—repair, reinforce, reconfigure.

Which means I'm running on mana alone for now.

No snacks. No sprints. No complaining, Nur.

At least I'm not luggage anymore.

Also—yeah, telekinesis.

I can use it to hover stuff now. Move rocks, tools, monsters, pancakes—if we ever find pancakes again, I'm totally doing that. I'll be a floating cocoon with a mental grip on breakfast. Glorious.

Downside: it takes more mana than moving myself. A lot more. Guess it's easier to throw your own body weight around when it's part of you. External targets? Higher cost, more focus, especially if I want to do anything dramatic like ragdolling something mid-charge.

Still, the option's there. Feels nice to be versatile. Float here, throw that, pretend I'm psychic royalty.

And yeah, technically I'm blind. No eyes. Nothing physical to see with in this cocoon stage. But honestly?

I don't even miss them.

My spatial sense has gone crazy sharp.

It was already better than normal when I first got it. Like echolocation on steroids. But now? Now I can feel everything in a wider radius—solid objects, moving targets and all. If I really focus, I can stretch my awareness further, scan the area like a radar ping through the stone.

And if I can do this much while still half-baked in a cocoon, I don't even want to imagine what Victor's sensing right now. He's probably evolved by now too.

Knowing him, he's probably hanging upside down from some leafy canopy, narrating his surroundings like a polite scholar while mapping the entire zone in his head.

It would be nice to see him again.

Or, you know—sense him.

Just to know he's alright.

"Look at you," Tessa says, trotting up beside me with that ridiculous toothy grin. "All floaty and smug."

I don't respond right away. Just keep hovering in my slow, steady arc.

"So proud of you," she adds, in that mock-dramatic tone she uses whenever she wants to make me cringe.

I hum. "Thanks, Mom."

She snorts. "Hey, I raised you from larva. Technically, I am your mom."

"Please stop talking."

"Nope. Too late. Emotional damage is done."

I sigh. Loudly. But I let myself hover a little higher anyway, just because I can.

Then Morven cuts in, voice steady as ever. "So. Are we ready to enter the Fifth Zone?"

Just like that—no buildup, no warning. He always knows how to kill a moment.

Tessa makes a small "oof" sound. "Way to ruin the emotional floaty girl bonding, dude."

I swivel mid-air to face him. "Seriously? Now? I just started enjoying not being a paperweight."

He shrugs. "We've delayed long enough. If we want a real shot at reaching the surface, the Fifth Zone is the next threshold. The sooner we go in, the sooner we adjust."

"Adjust," I echo. "You mean 'get jumped by stronger monsters and pray we don't die.'"

"Pretty much," he says.

Tessa grins. "Ooooh, I can finally scream FIRE-WOLF-DRAGON TESSA ENTERS ZONE FIVE!"

I sigh. Loudly. Again. "Great. I'll be sure to float dramatically behind you while you do that."

But deep down, I know Morven's right.

It's time.

"Alright, alright," I mutter, slowly drifting forward. "Let's not waste time or else Mr. Morven here's going to start brooding so hard he implodes into a smug black hole."

Tessa snorts. "He already does that when he's waiting for us to finish talking about feelings."

Morven—ever the picture of restraint—says nothing. Just gives us that same unreadable half-glance before starting toward the Fifth Zone's threshold ahead.

Here we go.

Time to enter Fifth Zone.

It doesn't take long.

We know our way around the Fourth Zone like it's the back of Tessa's paw—well-worn tunnels, monster spawn points, Lunerian Checkpoints. Easy.

The entrance to the Fifth Zone isn't hard to find either. It's… bright. Like glowworm cave meets divine intervention bright. Not that I can see it. Still blind, technically. But my spatial sense flares the moment we get close.

The air is clearer. The temperature shifts. There's a distinct shimmer at the threshold—like the whole environment is buzzing with pressure and photosynthesis.

As soon as we cross the border, Tessa yelps dramatically.

"AH! MY EYES!" she wails, throwing a paw over her snout. "Why is it so bright? This is way brighter than I remember!"

"I wouldn't know," I say flatly. "Because I'm blind."

"Lucky you," she mutters, squinting.

Morven doesn't say anything. But I sense the tension in his steps tighten just slightly.

So yeah. Fifth Zone.

Let's see what tries to kill us first.

As we step into it, I feel it all at once.

Life.
Thick, pulsing, wild.

The moment we cross the threshold, my senses stretch outward like roots meeting rain-soaked soil. Everything's alive here—too alive. Plants that breathe. Trees that whisper. Vines that twitch when you're not looking. Even the air feels heavier, denser, like it's holding its breath.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I can sense the greenery spreading in every direction, layered and sprawling, like a thousand tangled blankets stacked over a shifting forest floor. And above us, far above, something massive.

A sky. Or a fake one. Hard to tell. There's no sun—no clear source of light—but everything is bathed in this strange golden-green glow that spills from the ceiling like it's bleeding from the stone itself.

Beautiful, if you're into hauntingly perfect forest death traps.

Further in, I feel movement.

Presence.

Dozens of them. Maybe more. Lurking. Watching. Stronger than anything we fought before. Some of them feel still and cold—patient hunters. Others feel fast. Skittish. Aggressive.

This isn't the Fourth Zone anymore.

This is wild territory.

"Stay vigilant," Morven says, his voice low but steady. "We're entering new territory."

No kidding.

We move forward anyway—deeper into the glowing jungle. My senses stretch with every inch, feeling the roots shift under our feet, the distant flutter of wings, the quiet rustle of something big trying to be quiet and failing.

Tessa doesn't say anything.

She's walking slower now. Not lagging behind, exactly… just less bouncy. No humming. No fireball jokes. Her tail twitches every now and then, but it's tight, alert. Her ears keep swiveling back.

It reminds me of the first time we entered the Fourth Zone. The way she looked then—nervous, tense, trying really hard not to show it.

I get it.

This place… it feels too much like home.

Not my home. Hers.

The dense canopy. The ground soaked with scent trails. The constant presence of pack. Territory. Challenge.

I don't have to ask to know what she's thinking.
Where she was born.
Where she was forced to leave.
Where everything—her mother, her siblings, her den—was wiped out.

I hover a little closer to her side. I don't say anything either.

But I let my arcane silk drift near her paw.
Just close enough to brush.

Just close enough to let her know I'm here.

"Well, Morven," I say, drifting just a little higher. "Now that we're here, what exactly are we doing?"

He doesn't stop walking. "What else would we be doing except for—"

Crack.

The bush to our left explodes in a spray of leaves and snapping twigs. Something lunges out fast—four legs, long neck, antlers like twisted roots. It looks like a deer at first… until you see the bark-textured skin, the moss growing along its flanks, the way its jaw opens sideways like a blooming flower full of teeth.

Plant. Definitely plant. But trying very hard to cosplay as an animal.

Morven's already moving. His hand sweeps out, and a spear of violet arcane light flashes into existence mid-air. He launches it without hesitation.

It slams into the creature's side.

The thing lets out a warped, gurgling cry and stumbles back into the underbrush, bleeding green from the wound. Vines whip out defensively from its flanks, writhing in confusion.

Morven exhales through his nose. "—this."

"One point for aura farming, Morven," I say dryly. "But, uh… look behind you."

He doesn't even get the chance to turn.

Something slams into him from the rear—hard enough to knock the wind out of a normal person. A second monster, bigger than the first, erupts from the foliage like a battering ram. This one looks more like a boar, if boars had thorn-plated armor and glowing red bulbs pulsing across their back.

Morven grunts as he's thrown forward, crashing shoulder-first into a moss-covered trunk. The impact shakes a shower of leaves loose above him.

"Okay," I mutter, hovering backward instinctively. "Definitely not a welcoming party."

Tessa growls low in her throat, already crouched, claws flexing.

Here we go again.

I hover above the scene, adjusting my position with a low hum of telekinetic force. The moment I have a clear line of fire—

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Three arcane infused spines launch from my cocoon in rapid succession, whistling through the air and striking the boar-plant's flank. It screeches—well, more like a high-pitched rustle—recoiling from the impact. Its thorny hide deflects one, but the others pierce through the gaps between its plates.

Tessa doesn't wait.

She's already in motion, her reddish-bronze fur streaking like fire across the clearing. A sharp burst of heat trails behind her as she roars in, claws igniting mid-leap.

"RAAAH!"

She slams into the creature, fangs tearing into its leafy nape as her claws carve glowing lines across its thorned side. The thing rears up, flailing with vine-like limbs, but Tessa clings on like a wildfire.

Somewhere below, Morven groans.

"Appreciate the warning," he mutters, getting up and brushing moss from his shoulder like it insulted his dignity.

"Less sass, more stabbing, nerd!" I shout, loading another volley.

The Fifth Zone's welcome committee wasn't pulling punches. Good. I needed a warm-up.

The deer-plant monster stirs.

Not dead. Just annoyed.

It gets back up, legs twitching like snapped branches, and zeroes in on Tessa—head down, antlers forward, charging with all the elegance of a wrecking ball wrapped in vines.

"Oh, not on my watch," I mutter.

I launch a fresh volley—thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip—spines cut through the air in sharp arcs.
But the thing zigzags mid-sprint. Fast. Too fast. It weaves through the shots like it's been dodging projectiles since birth.

"Dang it."

Tessa doesn't need my warning. She sees it coming and does what Tessa does best—improvise mid-chaos.

She grabs the boar-plant's twitching body with her jaws and claws, spins it like a bloody shield, and throws it into the deer's path.

WHAM.

The deer-plant slams straight into the boar. The impact is brutal—a crack of bark, a squelch of ruptured vines, and a wet, leafy thud as both creatures collapse into a heap.

Tessa lands lightly behind it all, fur bristling, breath hot.

"Well," I say. "Goodnight to the boar, I guess."

The deer-plant thrashes, legs kicking, antlers flailing—
But it's stuck.

Its limbs are tangled with the boar's collapsed body, vines wrapped in thick plated hide, pinned down by dead weight and bad luck. It tries to squirm free, but the more it moves, the more it gets knotted in.

Morven sees the opening.

He lifts a hand. No chant. No flourish. Just a flick of the wrist and a flash of heat—
fwump.

A firebolt ignites mid-air and streaks toward the entangled monsters.

It hits with a sharp whoof, blooming into flames that catch fast on bark and moss-flesh alike. The deer lets out a screeching, woody howl as both creatures burn together in a pile of limbs, thorns, and smoke.

"Hey!" Tessa shouts, spinning around. "That's my thing!"

Morven doesn't even flinch. "You were taking too long."

"You stole my aesthetic!"

"I improved your execution."

Tessa growls. "I will set you on fire next!"

"Feel free to try," Morven says coolly.

I hover above them both, watching the burning plant-deer-boar mess crackle in the underbrush.

"Wow," I mutter. "First fight in Zone Five and we're already arguing about fire privileges."
This is going to be a long zone.

Morven steps over the charred underbrush like it's nothing, walking straight toward the still-smoking heap of crispy monster meat. His cockatrice arm twitches, claws flexing in anticipation.

"I merely chose the right magic for the right enemy," he says, tone cool and matter-of-fact. Then he raises his hand and gives it a quick, sharp wave.

Wind bursts outward—controlled and clean. It snuffs the remaining fire in a single breath, scattering ash and smoke into the undergrowth.

Without a word, he digs his claw into the burnt mess, tears off a sizzling chunk of vine-wrapped flesh, and takes a bite.

Tessa gasps, mouth already open. "Hey! You're eating without me and Nur again!"

I sigh. "Tessa. I can't eat right now. Remember?"

"Oh. Right." She pauses. "Then don't mind if I do!"

She trots over to Morven's side, tail flicking, and starts chowing down like it's some post-battle buffet.

And here I am.

Hovering above them.

Glowing. Watching.
Unable to chew.

Just vibes.

I slowly hover toward them, steady and smooth,

Morven's already halfway through another chunk of roasted bark-flesh. Tessa's got bits of vine stuck in her teeth and zero shame about it.

I stop a few feet away, floating just above the moss.

"Enjoy your food, fellas," I say, deadpan.

Tessa looks up, mouth full. "Mmf-thanks, Nur!"

Morven doesn't even look up. "We will."

I let out a long, dramatic sigh.

Seriously. If I ever evolve and still can't eat, I'm declaring war on digestion.

As they keep chewing, I drift a little closer, thoughts circling back to earlier.

"So, Morven," I say, voice even. "You mentioned my evolution's still using up my biological energy, which is why I rely on mana to move, right?"

He tears another bite from the roasted creature, chews for a second, then swallows. "Correct."

"Then what about when I shoot spines? Isn't that a biological process too? I mean, they grow out of me. They're me." I pause. "Unless I'm secretly just a living crossbow."

Morven lifts his gaze, wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his clawed arm, and answers calmly, "There's more to mana than just throwing fireballs and summoning glowing junk."

"Wow. Inspirational."

He ignores that. "Inside every mana-using creature, there are two primary sources—biological mana and reserve mana. Biological mana is tied to your living system. It flows with your instincts. Muscle growth, regeneration, structural reinforcement… and in your case, spines."

I blink. "So the spines use biological mana?"

He nods. "Yes. You don't cast them like a spell. You generate them. It's still your body doing the work, even if it looks flashy."

"So when I'm low on mana, I can still fire spines?"

"If you still have biological mana, yes. But if your body's drained from evolution or injury? Not so much."

I glance down at myself, faintly glowing, still very cocooned.
"Great. So basically I'm a glowing factory running on two power lines—one for magic, one for meat."

"Crude," he says. "But accurate."

Tessa glances up, licking her paw. "I dunno what you two are talking about but if Nur turns into a meat-powered cannon, I definitely want one."

I stare at her.

She grins.

Gods.

"That… actually makes sense," I murmur, half to myself, half to Morven. "Some monsters here don't make sense physically."

I float a little higher, mind churning now.

"Take my mother, for example."

Tessa perks up, but stays quiet.

"She's a huge moth. Like, elephant-sized. Wings wider than a hut, body covered in thick golden fluff, and she flies. Biologically, that's impossible. Her weight, her size… she shouldn't even breathe properly. So are you saying—"

Morven finishes the last bite of charred vine-flesh, licks a bit of sap-like juice off his claw, and nods once.

"Yes. She likely has immense biological mana."

He gestures loosely in the air. "What looks impossible to the surface world—their physics, their rules—those break down here in the Labyrinth. Biological mana compensates for flaws. It cheats. Supports flight, sustains abnormal bodies, reinforces unstable forms. Without it, your mother's wings would snap midair. Her muscles would collapse from her own weight."

"And with it?" I ask.

"She moves like royalty," Morven says simply. "Like she belongs in the air."

I go quiet for a second, drifting in place.

So that's why she looked so effortless. So… graceful.

It wasn't just power.

It was survival, carved into something beautiful.

Morven brushes dust from his arm, then continues, voice a little softer now. Teaching mode, I guess.

"Biological mana is what lets creatures push past their physical limits," he says. "It's the invisible engine behind all the things that shouldn't be possible."

I hover in silence, letting that settle.

"Humans and demi-humans?" he continues. "They don't evolve like monsters do, but they can grow their biological mana. It's what lets a swordsman break boulders with a swing, or a monk take a hit that should shatter bones. Their training—their discipline—that's them refining their body's internal flow."

"And monsters?" I ask, already guessing the answer.

"Monsters evolve," Morven says. "Each stage burns biological mana to restructure their form. They grow stronger not just because they train—but because their entire being rewrites itself using this energy."

Tessa flops on the grass, still chewing. "So you're saying I'm basically a fire wolf because my mana said so?"

Morven raises a brow. "You're a fire wolf probably because you have too much rage, not enough impulse control, and your evolution agreed with you or you just had bad experience with fire or both."

Tessa gives him a toothy grin. "Aw. You do understand me."

I don't say anything.

But in the back of my mind, I can't stop thinking about it—
Biological mana.

The thing that lets impossible creatures exist.

The thing that let my mother fly.

"This world," I murmur, slowly circling above the scorched clearing, "is getting more and more interesting."

Morven glances at me, then at the smoldering pile of vine-boar and charred deer-plant corpses. "Interesting is one word for it."

Tessa, licking sap off her paw, pipes up. "I'd go with terrifying. Or spicy. Spicy and terrifying."

I can't help it—I let out a quiet laugh. Just a small one.

But yeah.

The deeper we go, the more I realize this place doesn't follow the same rules as the world I came from. It's a living maze, full of monsters that defy logic, biology twisted by mana, and evolution that doesn't wait for permission.

It's brutal.

It's beautiful.

End Chapter 60