After spending a good while studying the chained book on the altar, William approached it cautiously. With each step, the faint light of the place revealed more details of the strange object: a black-covered book, ancient as the world itself, bound by chains that seemed fused into it. When he reached out to touch them, he immediately noticed they didn't budge. Not a single rattle. No slack. Nothing. It was like the steel had melted into the altar itself.
He frowned and, without hesitation, drew his sword. With a sharp strike, he slammed it against one of the chains. The sound echoed—deep, metallic—but the result was... nothing. No crack. No spark. Not even a scratch.
"This isn't normal," he muttered, eyeing the undamaged surface.
"Angel?" he called, brow furrowed. "Can you analyze this?"
The floating sphere glowed brighter as it scanned the chains. A second later, her voice echoed through the room with that usual neutral tone that, in moments like this, felt borderline sarcastic.
"The chains are made of an unknown material. Their composition seems fused to the book itself. This isn't a basic lock. It's a structural fusion—like the chains are a living extension of the object."
William clicked his tongue in frustration.
"So breaking them is impossible…"
"Not without destroying the book too."
With a sigh, he gave the altar one last look before turning back. As he returned to the main hall, his footsteps echoed across the empty stone. Under the dim bluish light glowing from a magical lamp in the ceiling, he started working out a new plan with Angel.
"We need answers," William said, arms crossed. "We can't open that book, but if those beetles are guarding it—or just crawling around it—they must be connected somehow."
"You're thinking of catching one?" Angel asked, slowly spinning on her axis.
"Exactly. We can't take them all head-on, but if we capture one, maybe we can figure out how to stop the rest. Learn if they're summoned, if they have a core, or some way to deactivate them."
Angel projected a 3D image of the farm.
"You could draw them out through the southern field. That area's more open. If you lure them there, you might be able to take them down one by one… or at least isolate one."
"I remember when Little Star saved me—I managed to escape them. They're not as fast as they seem when they move as a swarm."
"Confirmed. Their mobility is limited in open terrain. They're more dangerous in ambush scenarios."
William nodded. The plan was risky, but worth a shot.
That night, he stepped outside with a steady stride. Every passing second, his breathing slowed and sharpened. He looked up at the sky—just as empty and oppressive as always—waiting for the sign. And then he felt it: that prickling tension at the back of his neck. The same sensation that had stalked him every other night.
"They're coming," he murmured.
The sky shifted. Like a curtain of blood being poured from above, the moon started glowing red. The air grew heavy, as if something invisible was pressing down on the world. And from the shadows, like nightmares crawling out of hell, the beetles appeared with a screech that scraped bone.
"Now!" William shouted, breaking into a sprint toward the south.
The beetles chased after him immediately—a crawling, chittering mass of black rage. William ran with everything he had, leaping over rocks, dodging roots. With each step, the echo of countless legs reminded him that the smallest stumble could be his last.
"Faster, dammit!" he hissed to himself through gritted teeth.
They were powerful. Deadly. But just like he remembered… not that fast.
After several minutes of running, he reached a clearing near the back fence of the farm. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the swarm closing in.
"Time to heat things up," he muttered, raising his hand.
A ball of fire flared into existence in his palm, burning with supernatural intensity. He hurled it straight into the oncoming horde. The explosion lit up the night—flames roared, swallowing the first wave of beetles. The stench of burning shell filled the air.
But it wasn't enough.
"No…" he whispered, watching more beetles crawl right over the scorched corpses, unfazed by the fire, relentless.
With no time for another cast, he drew his sword and started slashing. The first swing cleaved through five beetles at once, their bodies bursting like tar-filled balloons. No blood. No organs. Just chunks of black shell crumbling to the ground like ash.
But for every one that fell, five more took its place.
He backpedaled, cutting with precision, every movement measured and sharp. But it was no use.
And then it bit him.
A searing pain tore through his arm. He screamed. One of the beetles had clamped onto his forearm, injecting something that burned like acid under his skin.
He thrashed, spun, slammed into a tree—but it wouldn't let go.
"Shit!" he growled, forcing himself to move.
He sheathed his sword in one swift motion and gripped the beetle tight with his other hand, making sure it didn't fall.
"New plan!" he yelled, sprinting toward the mansion with all his strength.
The swarm behind him roared—a chorus of clacking jaws and screeching legs. Every second stretched into an eternity. His legs burned. His lungs screamed. But the mansion… it was close.
He reached it, jumped through the doorway, and slammed the door shut behind him. A second later, the thunder of dozens of beetles crashing into the wood shook the house.
William dropped to his knees, gasping, sweat dripping down his face. The beetle was still latched to his arm—but something was different.
"It's not moving…" he breathed.
The pain was gone.
It was still there, locked onto him, but now completely still. Frozen. Its body was a glossy sculpture of obsidian black. Its eyes, once glowing green, were now pale like dead emeralds. It was about twenty centimeters long, its armor as tough as tempered metal, though its underside was soft—almost silky.
"Angel, scan it," he ordered, still catching his breath.
While Angel analyzed, William started examining the beetle. He tried to move its legs, open its shell. Nothing. No reaction.
"Scan complete," Angel reported. "The creature's composed of a material similar to tempered steel. No internal organs detected. Only a pocket of gas inside the abdomen."
William stared at the projection, fascinated. A hollow shell. A puppet.
"How does something like this move… with no muscles, no power source?"
"According to biological data, it shouldn't move at all."
"I want to dissect it… but it's the only 'live' one we've got."
"Playing back combat footage."
Angel projected a holographic playback. The images showed how the sword sliced through the beetles easily, and how fire melted them with unnatural effectiveness.
"Conclusion: the dark beetles are highly vulnerable to extreme heat. Also, your sword has an edge far beyond standard blades."
William unsheathed the sword again and gave it a test swing. But something felt… off. Like the connection he once felt with it had dulled.
Ignoring the feeling, he made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a reinforced glass jar to store the beetle. But the moment he touched it, a wave of icy energy shot down his spine.
His body froze.
"William!" Angel's voice rang in his mind with a tone of raw alarm.
And before he could react, something invisible and brutal dragged him straight into the darkness.