The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

"So Old Vithoth, I believe we didn't properly introduce ourselves yet. This here's Morven," I say, hovering a little higher to meet those glowing bark-carved eyes. "A weird goopy thing who turned into a Homunculus—we picked him up back in the Fourth Zone."

Morven gives a small nod, face perfectly composed despite me roasting him in front of a humongous tree.

"And this is Tessa," I continue, gesturing toward the wolf beside me, "a lively cinder wolf who never shuts up. And of course, me, Nur the—"

"The ever grumpy and sarcastic eggy cocoon," Tessa cuts in, tail flicking, grin way too smug for someone who almost got chomped earlier.

I sigh, spines rattling faintly. "Thanks, Tess. Really nailed it."

Old Vithoth lets out a rumble, the sound like laughter buried in the groan of old wood. "Hah. Peculiar indeed."

Old Vithoth's massive frame creaks as he shifts, voice slow and deep, carrying that country twang.

"Never in my long life have I found a group so strange and clever… monsters with minds, workin' together, and with manners at that."

His eyes gleam faintly brighter, moss trailing down like a beard as he regards us one by one. The forest itself seems to lean in to listen.

Tessa mutters, "Guess we're breaking records everywhere we go."

"Yeah," I say dryly, "we're basically a traveling circus at this point."

Morven just inclines his head, taking it like a compliment.

Morven folds his hands neatly in front of him, voice smooth as ever. "How polite of you, Nur, to introduce us to this Ancient Ent… yet you neglected to do so for the guardian of the western side of this zone."

"Well, to be fair," I shoot back, spines twitching, "she did strangle Tessa."

"Yeah," Tessa says quickly, tail giving a sharp lash. "I haven't forgotten that."

Morven exhales through his nose, the picture of weary patience. "You both will never let this go, aren't you?"

"Nope," I say.

Tessa grins. "Definitely not."

Even Old Vithoth lets out a low rumble, bark creaking like laughter rolling out of his chest.

Old Vithoth's vast shoulders shift, branches swaying with the motion. His voice comes low and rumbling, tinged with that country drawl.

"Heh… forgive what that lil' sapling did. She's doin' her best protectin' us flora folk, after all."

Tessa huffs but doesn't argue. I can feel her heat simmering down, though her claws still flex in the dirt.

"Oh, forgive me," the great tree rumbles. "Haven't even introduced myself, have I? My name's Vithoth—and as y'all already did, ye can call me Old Vithoth. Also, as this peculiar fella here told ya, I am an Ancient Ent."

"Oh, that was your species name?" I say, shell tilting slightly. "Here I thought he was insulting you."

Morven turns, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. "Why would you assume I'd insult him?"

"Because you sound like you're insulting everyone half the time," I answer without missing a beat.

Tessa snorts, clearly enjoying this way too much. Old Vithoth's chest creaks with another bark-deep chuckle.

Old Vithoth shifts, roots grinding deep into the soil, his voice carrying that slow, weathered country drawl.

"I've been alive a really long, long time," he says, eyes glowing faint gold. "And I've walked the surface too, once in a while. But there was a war then—humans called it somethin' like a Holy War. So many horrible things came with it… so many deaths. Forests burned black. Rivers ran red."

The air seems to sag heavier as he speaks, like the forest itself remembers.

"I ain't set foot on the surface ever since."

Tessa lowers her ears, quiet for once. Even Morven's too still, like the words root themselves in him as much as in the soil.

Old Vithoth leans closer, his massive frame groaning like an old ship.

"I'm warnin' ya… if y'all ever think about goin' to the surface, best be prepared for what's to come. Ain't no gentle place, no matter what dreams folk tell themselves." His eyes burn brighter for a moment, like coals under bark.

"Though… things have surely improved since my time up there. Even that lil' saplin' Velith wanders to the surface every now and then." He chuckles low, like creaking timber. "And I've heard more of our kind—intelligent monsters like us—been makin' the move upward too, lately."

The silence that follows sits heavy, broken only by the distant drip of sap and the faint stir of unseen wings in the canopy.

"Huh… interesting." I hover a little higher. "What do you make of it, Morven?"

He tilts his head, almost too smoothly, like his neck isn't built quite right for the motion. "A migration of minds, perhaps. Monsters who learn, monsters who think… leaving the labyrinth to carve their place above."

His glassy eyes flicker, and for a moment his voice grows quieter. "It sounds… inevitable. Knowledge does not stay buried forever."

Tessa scratches at the soil with one claw. "Or maybe they're just tired of being strangled by vines and chased by weird wolves."

Morven doesn't dignify that with a reply.

"Or," I say, spines flexing faintly, "it could be the humans' suspicious activity happening in this labyrinth lately. Remember what I said about the stuff in the Third Zone? And the things we found in that secret hideout back in the Fourth Zone? Something's definitely happening, and I bet this zone won't be an exception."

Morven's gaze sharpens, eerie calm behind his words. "Also… the moss ape. The one with the tiara. It bore a fragment of me."

The memory prickles over us like cold air—the glittering crown, the surge of combat instinct, the way his body had convulsed when it fused into him.

Tessa's ears flatten. "Yeah… none of that was normal."

Old Vithoth's eyes glow brighter, bark creaking as he leans in, heavy and thoughtful.

I angle myself toward the towering ent. "Old Vithoth… you know anything about this?"

His massive frame groans as he shifts, flowers along his crown trembling. "Humans' activity's a normal occurrence 'round here," he rumbles, slow and thoughtful. "They've been pokin' about these woods longer than I've stood guard on this side."

Then his eyes narrow, glow deepening to a harsher green-gold. "Though I must say… there been strange goin's-on lately involvin' them. Stranger than usual."

Old Vithoth's voice drops low.

"There's a group o' humans walkin' these parts," he says. "Carryin' them doodads they always make, pokin' around dead monsters like corpse beetles with toys." His great hand of bark and moss flexes, creaking.

He leans closer, eyes narrowing, glow catching sharp through the canopy. "And if I do say… one of 'em bore a mark. Ran from his right cheek all the way down to his right arm. Could see it plain as daylight."

Tessa's ears flick. "A mark?"

Morven's face twitches, unreadable, but his voice is steady. "That… is not a trivial detail."

Old Vithoth lets out a laugh, deep and rolling, like logs tumbling down a river. The sound shakes loose a scatter of petals from his crown.

"Humans causin' problems—that's normal as rain," he says with a wry drawl. "Long as they don't harm intelligent monsters, we don't raise a hand nor root against 'em. You know what they say."

His great bulk settles back, the ground groaning beneath him, as though the forest itself nods along with his words.

Tessa mutters under her breath, "Yeah, easy for the giant tree to say."

Stolen novel; please report.

I don't disagree.

"Well, that's been insightful," I say, drifting back a little, spines clicking faintly. "I guess we've got the gist of what happened here. You guys got any questions?"

Tessa shakes out her fur, muttering, "Nope. Had enough of ghost wolves and creepy humans for one day, thanks."

Morven tilts his head, expression unreadable, voice smooth. "Not really… though I do wonder what becomes of humans when they meddle too much."

Old Vithoth's eyes flare, and the forest around us creaks like it's listening for the answer.

Old Vithoth rumbles, the sound like a storm in the roots. "Well, I do say… ugly things happened to 'em. Humans that meddle too much don't walk away clean." His massive head turns, eyes narrowing down at me. "You—the little cocoon—you're hers, ain't ya? The Queen Moth of the northern territory of this zone."

A chill runs through me even though I knew the question was coming. "Yes… That's indeed my Mother," I admit, voice low. "Though I'm… kinda banned from her territory. It's a long story."

"I won't meddle in family matters," Old Vithoth replies, slow and grave. "But know this—humans've gone too deep into her lands. They've killed her children, kidnapped others. And the last humans who dared trespass…" His glowing eyes flare brighter. "They were found impaled with spines, set out in places humans usually passed. Their eyes burst, and tears of blood streaked down their faces."

The forest groans with his words, every creak like a warning.

Tessa swallows, fur bristling. "Wew… I've never met this Mother of yours, Nur. I just keep hearing about her. And somehow—I'm glad I didn't, now."

"Welp, there goes your answer, Morven. Charming, right?"

He grunts, a low, dismissive "Hmpf," like that's all the commentary he needs.

"Though we don't know how the western territory handles these kinds of things," I add, glancing up at Old Vithoth.

The great ent lets out a chuckle, bark groaning with it. "Oh, we do have our own method."

"Yeah," I mutter, wings of thought curling back toward the image of my Mother's cruelty. "After hearing her way of sending a message… I think I'm good."

Tessa snorts. "Good? I'm sleeping with both eyes open."

"I guess that's all the insight we need. Thank you, Old Vithoth."

"Aye," he rumbles, bark creaking like a bowing beam. "It's a pleasure. You goin' now?"

"Yeah. Gonna continue our grind and, y'know, survive."

"A'ight, a'ight," he says with a slow nod. "But be careful not to engage us intelligent floras. Though I reckon they already know you're that lil' saplin's guests—word travels fast 'round here."

"Yeah, I bet it would," I reply. Then I turn to the others. "Alright, enough dilly-dallying. Let's move."

Tessa throws up a paw in a sloppy salute. "Aye aye, captain."

Morven doesn't even bother with words—he just starts walking, smooth and silent as ever.

As we move off into the thicker woods, Tessa lifts a paw high and waves, tail swishing. "Take care now, Old Vithoth!" she shouts over her shoulder.

The ancient ent chuckles, deep and warm, branches shaking like a great tree in the wind. "And y'all too, little ones," his voice rumbles after us, fading as the forest swallows his towering frame.

"Alright, since we've got our precious info, where are we heading, Morven?"

He doesn't break stride, voice smooth but edged. "Well… anywhere that doesn't land us in the path of those hostile wolves attacking the flora's territory, your Mother's territory, or accidentally engaging an intelligent flora."

I let out a dry laugh. "Well, that seems like a tall order. Odds are we'll end up doing at least one of those—if not all."

Tessa hums, claws clicking against the soil. "Hmmm… I guess the rule of thumb is don't attack talking plants, and don't step into buggy territory?" She tilts her head. "Though I don't know about the wolf one. They seem to be everywhere."

Morven glances back, his expression unreadable. "Then we adapt. Or we perish."

"Wow," I mutter, "thanks for the motivational speech, Morv."

Tessa chuckles. "Yeah, really lifts the spirit."

As we're busy contemplating our next moves, something whistles past us—fast. A projectile slices the air between me and Tessa, embedding into a root with a hard thunk.

"Shit!" My spines rattle as I jerk higher. "All this thinking made me distracted from surveillance."

Tessa's fur bristles, fire licking off her claws. "Where the hell did that come from?"

Morven straightens, head turning slowly, glassy eyes narrowing as he scans the treeline. "We are not alone."

The forest, already heavy, suddenly feels sharper—like every branch is hiding a bowstring.

Then the underbrush stirs, wings buzzing low like a tremor in the air. A monster crawls out into view—a dragonfly, but twisted, scaled up to nightmare size.

I can sense the layers of its chitin—light, not especially tough, built more for speed than for armor. Its multifaceted eyes gleam, each lens catching and fracturing my sense-map until it feels like the thing is staring at us from a hundred directions at once.

And below its abdomen—there it is. A long, thorn-like appendage juts downward, slick with fresh residue. It twitches once, and I realize it matches the projectile that nearly skewered us.

"Guess that's where it came from," I mutter, spines bristling as the insect's wings shiver, kicking up a breeze that tastes sharp and wrong.

Tessa's growl rumbles low, heat flickering off her fur. Morven shifts into that half-still, half-fluid stance of his, uncanny body tensing like a trap ready to spring.

I float beside them, spines flexing outward with a faint hum. "I guess instead of us looking for things to fight, now we've got things looking for us."

Morven's lips twitch in that almost-smile. "A simple yet profound strategy."

Tessa bares her teeth, ember sparks flying. "Not a bad idea." Then she launches herself forward, claws igniting as she charges straight for the dragonfly.

The dragonfly surges skyward, wings a blur, and starts circling Tessa so fast my senses struggle to keep up. Its abdomen twitches and—thnk thnk thnk—thorns whistle past her.

Tessa sidesteps hard, claws gouging the dirt, weaving between the projectiles. One scrapes her flank but she doesn't even flinch.

She closes the distance in a flash, then her paws detonate with force—an explosion that launches her upward like a rocket.

For a moment, she's right there, claws outstretched, heat trailing behind her. But the dragonfly tilts its wings with impossible grace, body twisting into a sharp veer. It slips out of reach like a phantom of speed.

"Damn," I mutter, spines humming hot. "That thing's fast."

Tessa lands hard, growling, eyes locked on the insect as it hovers just out of reach, wings slicing the air like blades.

Morven's hands flare, half a dozen fireballs spinning into orbit around him, heat pressing against the damp forest air. At the same time, I pull energy into my spines until they hum sharply and brightly, arcane crackling at the tips.

We unleash together—fire and arcane bolts screaming upward in a barrage.

But the dragonfly moves like lightning, wings slicing the air in wild angles. It darts between every shot, weaving left, right, even backward in midair, the projectiles tearing holes through leaves and bark instead.

The thing's speed is insane. Even with both of us locking in, we can't pin it down.

Then the dragonfly snaps its wings and dives, a blur of chitin and buzzing fury straight at Tessa.

She plants her paws, fire sparking, ready to lunge. She springs up to meet it—but the insect twists at the last second, body veering sharply. Tessa passes right through its slipstream, jaws snapping on empty air.

The dragonfly whips its abdomen down. The thorned tail jabs in a flurry—stab, stab, stab—several strikes in rapid succession.

Tessa yelps, twisting as the barbs rake across her shoulder and flank, shallow but burning with venom. She hits the ground hard, claws gouging into soil, fur bristling as she snarls back up at it.

"TESSA, NO!" My telepathy rips out sharper than I mean, echoing straight into her mind.

"I'm fine!" she shouts back, voice strained, claws dragging against the ground as she pushes herself upright. "The venom's a lil' prickly but not as melty as Vex's." Her legs wobble, movements sluggish, heat flickering off her fur in uneven bursts.

Morven narrows his glassy eyes, watching the way her body jerks against itself. "It seems," he says evenly, "to possess some sort of paralyzing venom."

The dragonfly hovers above, tail twitching, wings buzzing fast enough to blur. It's lining up for another strike.

Morven's gaze tracks the twitch of the dragonfly's abdomen, voice steady but edged. "It might not be deadly… but it's still dangerous if we get hit."

Tessa growls, trying to shake the stiffness from her limbs. "No kidding," she mutters, jaw tight.

I hover closer, spines bristling, the hum of arcane rising in my chest. "Then we make sure it doesn't land another one."

The insect tilts in the air, multifaceted eyes catching the dim light, tail curling for another strike.

I close the distance, wings of thought pressing out. The dragonfly's abdomen flicks—another projectile screaming my way.

Not this time. I seize it midair with telekinesis, the thorn shuddering against invisible force, then hurl it right back. The monster jerks aside, wings buzzing frantically, but—

It doesn't expect the fireball waiting on its new path.

The blast roars across its flank, heat licking chitin, forcing the insect into a wild spiral.

Down below, I catch Tessa through my senses—her jaws wide, smoke still curling from her teeth. She grins despite the stiffness holding her legs. "Just because I can't move doesn't mean I can't attack, dumbass."

"Well," I mutter dryly, "says the dumbass."

Morven snorts faintly, almost a laugh. The dragonfly shrieks, wings buzzing louder, smoke peeling off its scorched side.

Of course, it won't go down easily. Things like this never do.

Projectiles? Hit or miss. Close combat? Out of the question with its speed—well, for me especially.

Which means it's time. For that.

The dragonfly dips its abdomen, thorn glinting, and comes straight at me. I hold my place, every instinct screaming to dart aside, but I force myself still. At the last heartbeat, I snap into a sharp telekinetic turn—just enough to let it whip past me.

Alright. Close enough.

In the split second as it tears through my space, I focus. Not on fire, not on arcane. On mana, heat—or rather, the absence of it.

Frost blossoms outward. Thin white veins spread through the air, crawling over the insect's wings and abdomen as it passes me. The sudden cold bites, steam hissing from its joints.

The dragonfly shrieks, flight pattern shuddering.

Yeah. The fruits of my practice.

Frost magic.

The dragonfly stutters in the air, its wings frosting over, flight turning jagged and sluggish.

Morven lifts one hand, calm as ever, and a bead of light spirals into existence on his palm. He flicks it outward—an arcane projectile, clean and sharp.

Huh. That's new.

It slams into the dragonfly's chest… and for a moment, nothing happens.

Then boom.

Purple energy detonates outward, a flare that ripples through the clearing, shredding frost into glittering shards. The dragonfly shrieks, a high-pitched screech that cuts off as its body seizes.

It crashes into the dirt with a heavy thud, twitching violently, wings spasming before going still.

I hover toward the twitching body, spines settling down. "Well. That's one dragonfly—dead."

Behind me, Tessa drags herself across the dirt, legs stiff, still fighting against the venom. Morven steps up beside me, his movements too smooth to ever feel natural.

"Well," he says, voice clipped but faintly amused, "it seems that… frost magic turned out quite well. Which is, I must admit, rather interesting."

From the ground, Tessa huffs and wheezes, then manages a grin. "Yeah… that was really cool. Hehehe. Get it?"

I groan. "Tess, if you can make puns, you can walk."

"Not yet," she smirks, still dragging. "Let me have this."

"Well, what about that arcane spell you just pulled?" I ask, floating closer, spines half-curled. "Since when do you practice it?"

Morven shakes his head, glassy eyes fixed on the twitching corpse. "I didn't. The knowledge just… surfaced in me after I evolved. It's less like learning and more like… remembering."

He glances at me, voice lowering just slightly. "Also, the spell is called Arcane Implosion."

"Remembering," I mutter. "Not ominous at all, dude."

Tessa, still dragging herself forward, snorts. "Well, everything about this guy is either aura farming or being comically insane. What are you, some kind of grand wizard in your past life?"

Morven's mouth twitches. "Funny you say that… because I was something like that."

Both Tessa and I whip around at the same time. "YOU WHAT?"

End of Chapter 65