(Narrator's POV)
Melissa only wanted to leave to find Her Prince.
For all her monstrous strength, for all the fear her presence inspired, she was still a child at heart—fourteen years old in mind, if not in body. That innocence made her vulnerable, easy to deceive. Humans and vampires alike had used it, shaping her grief into a weapon, pointing her rage toward their enemies. They thought her pliable, controllable.
But there was one truth they had forgotten.
You cannot underestimate Mellisa at all.
She lingered in the streets of Virethys Cities, her bare feet padding silently across the cracked stone. Dust swirled around her ankles as she turned her head, fixing her gaze one final time on Count Mordai.
The Count's lips trembled, his voice no more than a breath.
"Damn those humans… careless fools. They cast the prince aside without even checking. And now… now we are the ones left to face this monster."
The words were too soft for even the nearest Enforcer Vampire to hear. But Melissa saw. She read his lips with unerring clarity.
Mute though she was, childlike though she seemed, Melissa understood perfectly well.
They had betrayed her. Manipulated her. Lied to her.
Vampires were masters of deception, but this time they had gone too far. They had stirred something that should never have been awakened.
Her white, pupilless eyes narrowed, fixing Count Mordai with a stare as cold and lethal as a cobra's. She smelled the betrayal in the air, sharp as blood.
Mordai's instincts screamed at him. His gaze snapped to her as she stopped in her tracks, and dread clawed through his chest. He rushed forward, desperate to reach her before she could act—desperate to convince himself she hadn't heard his words.
But it was already too late.
In the middle of the city, Melissa's body began to glow.
She loosened her grip.
The colossal axe slipped from her hand and struck the ground with apocalyptic force. The impact shattered stone, sent shockwaves through the Cities, and blasted shards of rubble skyward. It was as if a mountain had fallen from the heavens.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
And then… Melissa began to change.
At first it was a shimmer along her skin, faint, almost delicate, like moonlight catching glass. But the shimmer hardened into scales. One after another, they spread, gleaming white in the crimson haze of the sky. Her frame swelled, bones stretching, reshaping. Flesh warped into something vast, terrible, and inhuman, it was a Snake scales.
Mordai's heart lurched. He knew this sight. He knew this terror.
"Fly!" His voice thundered across Virethys, cracking like a whip. "All of you—fly!"
The order rang through the city like a death knell.
Some vampires sneered, mocking the panic of their Count. She is but a little girl, they whispered. Draped in rags. She dropped her weapon. Why run from a child?
But the elders—those who remembered the war, who had seen true horror—did not hesitate. They unfurled their wings and hurled themselves into the sky, fleeing as shadows against the blood-red clouds. The others, too slow to grasp the truth, would soon pay the price.
Because Melissa was no child, Nor she was fool.
She was Deathlock.
Melissa The Deathlock—royal guardian of Zareth, the Strongest being.
Born to protect the Queen's son, forged to annihilate. Now unchained by grief and betrayal....deceived by both humans and vampires, she carries the burden of a single failure: the prince's disappearance.
Her transformation quickened—scales racing across her skin like wildfire. White and radiant, they gleamed like marble veined with lightning. Her form stretched, unfurled, uncoiled—until the girl was gone.
Dust rose in a choking cloud, hiding her shape from sight. But then, piercing through the haze, came a Two glowing eye—vast, glowing green, burning with fury. A serpent's tongue flickered, hissing through the silence.
When the dust cleared, the world beheld her.
A colossal serpent, scales shimmering like frost under a storm's light. Her body was so immense it seemed the city itself could not contain her.
Gasps broke into screams as her serpentine mass slithered forward. Stalls splintered, houses crumbled, and entire streets vanished beneath the crushing sweep of her colossal body. She moved with unstoppable intent, her path leading straight toward the castle at the heart of Virethys.
The fortress of House Morvannis rose before her, ancient walls etched with wards and sigils, its towers a testament to centuries of unbroken might.
Melissa wrapped around it like a predator with prey.
Her body coiled, squeezing tighter and tighter. Stone groaned under the strain. Towers split, walls buckled, and with a final, thunderous crack, the fortress collapsed. Centuries of history, of power and pride, reduced to rubble beneath her wrath.
Then came the roar.
It ripped from her throat like the cry of a betrayed god, shaking the crimson sky itself. Vampires young and old felt it in their marrow, their very blood quivering to the sound. Rage. Sorrow. Loss. It was all there, poured into a single, unforgettable cry.
Count Mordai could only stare, horror and certainty knotting in his chest.
The truth was undeniable now.
If the prince was not found, if the prince was not returned—
Melissa's fury would consume them all.
The crimson sky still bled overhead. But now, a new shadow stretched across it—vast, alive, unstoppable.
The shadow of Melissa Deathlock.
Even weakened by Zareth's absence, her presence alone was enough to shake the heavens, enough to make even a Lesser God stir uneasily. She was fury made flesh, grief given scale and teeth.
But even wrath has its limits.
Her strength was flawless, her transformation absolute, yet such power came with a cost. Already, the fire in her veins burned too bright, consuming her from within. Sooner or later, her fury would subside, and exhaustion would claim her. She would slumber—not for hours, not for days, but for years.
That was the only mercy left to the Count Mordai.
Until then, Virethys would know no peace.
Melissa lifted her gaze to the heavens, her serpentine body coiled in ruin and shadow.
The city smoldered beneath her, but she did not see it.
All she saw was the blood moon.
Betrayed.
Alone.
The prince was gone—his presence snuffed out like a candle. And it was her fault.
Her fault for trusting others. Her fault for believing lies.
She was older than any mortal, older even than most who walked the night. Yet her heart, her mind, remained that of a child—fourteen, fragile, unguarded, A mute child. A child who could not understand the depths of greed, the cruelty of this world.
For the last time, she fixed her gaze on the bleeding moon, her eyes wide with sorrow.
Her lips parted. The single word slipped out, broken, trembling—
"…Prince."
A tear slid down her scaled cheek, glimmering like liquid crystal before vanishing into the dust and ruin below.
And then, without another sound, she turned.
The colossal serpent uncoiled from the shattered city, her vast form sliding away from the carnage. Streets cracked, rivers swelled, and the Continent trembled as she left the Vampire Continent behind.
She vanished into the deep ocean, her pale coils sinking beneath the waves, swallowed by endless water and silence.
Legends would remember her as wrath incarnate.
But in truth, she was only a child, mourning a prince who would never return.
(Yuuta's POV)
I was standing in the kitchen, rinsing a dish before going to dine with my family, that when a single tear slid down my cheek as if some unseen hand had wiped a fissure open inside me.
"Melissa…"
The name fell out of me before I could catch it. For a second the world tilted. I froze, wetness cooling against my jaw.
Wait. Huh? Why am I crying? Who is Melissa?
A slow, hollow ache tightened in my chest—an ache that felt older than my current life, as though someone had reached into a locked room and begun searching through boxes I didn't remember owning. Guilt pooled under it, vague and heavy, and with it an odd, persistent loneliness: like losing something whose absence you had never fully noticed until someone pointed it out.
Then the door slammed.
"Yuuta!"
Erza came in like a storm, every step a reprimand. Her hand closed on my collar so fast and hard I barely had time to blink. She was shorter than me, but today she wore authority like armor.
"Tell me—how do you know about Leafy—" she started, then stopped short. Her voice died when she saw me. She stared at my face as if she had walked into another room entirely.
"You're… crying?" she whispered, incredulity folding into concern.
She cupped my cheeks with both hands before I could answer, and the world narrowed to the warmth of her palms and the quick, ragged beat of my own heart under them.
"Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Tell me, Yuuta." Her composure—always steady, always sharp—crumbled into something raw and small. Worry made her whole face softer, more real than I'd ever seen it.
"I… I don't know," I admitted. My voice came out thin. "It just hit me. Out of nowhere. I feel… empty. Like I misplaced something I never had a name for."
Erza closed the distance without thinking and wrapped me in a hug. Her body was solid and immediate; it smelled faintly of whatever he'd been cooking and the faint floral of her soap. She held me like a harbor holds a boat in a storm.
"I know," she murmured into my ear. "I know it's hard to accept the truth."
"Truth?" I pulled back, the word tasting strange in my mouth. "What truth? What are you talking about?"
Her eyes flickered—softening, then gone hard like a blade buried in thought. "Don't worry," she said, though her voice trembled at the edges. "You're loved. You're not alone, Yuuta. You're not that boy anymore—the one who waited to be rescued. We're your family now. We'll save you."
She said it with a certainty that should have steadied me, but instead the words sank into me like a cold stone.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped, more sharply than I intended. "What bullshit are you spouting, Erza?"
She hesitated so long I could see the motion: the moment her face betrayed her—guilt, worry, a calculation—and then she forced a laugh, sudden and brittle. "Forget it, Yuuta. I'm… being strange today, aren't I?" She brushed the confession aside like a fly on her sleeve.
But she'd said too much. She'd let a corner of the curtain fall away.
I watched her, searching for whatever it was she was trying to hide. Her fingers trembled just a little as she withdrew her hands. Her eyes kept flicking to the hallway, to the closed door of the bedroom as if weighing whether to cross its threshold and reveal what lay beyond.
And then,
Erza suddenly leaned closer, her tone sharp.
"Yuuta, tell me—how did you make the Leafy spirit?"
"Leafy spirit?" I blinked, trying to remember. Then it clicked.
"Ohh, right. That wasn't me. Grandpa made it."
Her expression darkened instantly.
"Grandpa… that old fossil." She scowled. "Don't tell me he used a portal to summon it?"
I scratched my cheek. "No… I think he mentioned something else. Uh… Zani Cina? Yeah, that's what he called it. He used that to make the spirit."
Erza groaned, pressing her palm hard into her temple.
"That idiot old fossil. I warned him a hundred times not to touch that cursed power. He never listens."
"What's so bad about it?" I asked. "Every time Grandpa or you mention Zani, it's like taboo. But come on—bending reality, making new spells—it sounds cool, not dangerous."
Her sigh was long, weary.
"Yuuta… Zani is complicated. Some say it's a flaw in the gods' creation. Others call it a tool of alteration, something that can reshape even reality. But those are shallow theories. Wrong studies."
I frowned. "Then how do you know they're wrong? I saw it with my own eyes. Grandpa used it to create Leafy spirit. He literally told me—you can command Zani to bend reality."
Her gaze locked on mine, piercing.
"That wasn't real Zani," she said flatly. "That was a hollow copy. A dangerous one. Zani Cina works by forcefully converting mana into unstable cores. If even a fraction of that balance shifts? The cores shatter. The backlash can warp your mind, collapse your body, leave you drowning in hallucinations you can't escape from."
I swallowed, my earlier excitement dampening. "Ohhh… so that's why you were so freaked out. Makes sense now." Then another thought hit me, and I tilted my head. "But… wait. How do you even know all this? Don't tell me… you can use Zani Cina too?"
She shook her head instantly. "No. I can't use Cina."
"Aw, shame," I muttered under my breath. "It'd be kinda cool if you could."
That earned me the faintest smirk. Her eyes softened, just a little.
"I can't use Cina," she said, voice low, "but I can use pure Zani. The real thing. The kind no dragon has ever touched. I can see Zani particles themselves… and use them without harm. In all of Dragonkind, I was the only one who could."
My jaw dropped. "Wait—what?! Zani?!" I nearly choked. "No way. Grandpa said only Zareth herself could use that! So how the hell are you—?"
"Yes." Her answer was calm, but her eyes flickered with something heavier. "Even I wasn't supposed to. I tried for years, failed for years. And then…"
Her voice faltered. She froze mid-sentence, like she'd just tripped over a memory she hadn't meant to touch.
"…Then what?" I asked, my chest tightening at her hesitation.
For a moment she didn't answer. Then, to my shock, her cheeks tinted with color. She looked away, then back at me, lips pressed tight before finally parting.
"I… first discovered Zani particles after the night we… slept together." Her words were barely above a whisper. "That was the first time I could channel it. My mana core evolved, split into dual cores—one for mana, one for Zani. From that moment on… I could use it freely."
Even she was in disbelief, unaware of the truth herself, her expression twisting into one of horrifying realization.
Silence. My brain short-circuited.
I just stood there, staring at her.
"…What?"
To be continue.....
Sister Mary: Uff, I swear… if the Leafy Spirit doesn't show up in the next chapter, I'm filing a complaint with the Elven Food Council!