CH396 · Rewrite
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Chapter 396: The Fierce Battle

“Explorers don’t fear adventure,” Lightning said. “But they don’t take reckless risks either.”

She was thinking it through aloud, steadying herself with the logic of it. Demons were dangerous—but they could also die. They had a fundamental weakness: without Red Mist, they suffocated. Leaf had killed one with a crossbow, once, when it was already trapped. Nightingale had killed one under worse circumstances. The pattern held. They were killable.

“We should report to His Highness first,” Leaf said, her voice tight with urgency. “Nightingale and Ashes have fought demons before. They’re far more experienced than we are.”

“By the time they arrive, the demons will be gone.” Lightning ejected the cylinder, confirmed the chambers were loaded, and snapped it back. “Letting armed enemies wander our border is more dangerous than acting now.”

“I can stay and track them. Watch from the forest.”

“And if they move out of your controlled area?” Lightning pressed. “If you try to stop them, you’ll expose yourself. Three of us working together is better than you trying to hold them alone.”

Leaf fell silent. She had no answer to that.

“Coo coo!” Maggie, still in her pigeon form, hopped onto Lightning’s shoulder and spread her wings.

Lightning scratched under the pigeon’s chin. “She says she wants to break their heads with her claws, grind their flesh into paste with her wings, then toast the result to see how it tastes.”

“She said coo twice,” Leaf said.

“It’s essentially what it means.” Lightning nodded with complete seriousness.

Leaf felt something unclench, slightly. Whatever happened next, she wasn’t facing it alone.

“How far are they?” Lightning asked.

“About three hundred meters to our right. Trees are blocking line of sight.”

Lightning looked up at the canopy. Three hundred meters. At her speed, the approach would take seconds. The pistol outranged a magic stone’s discharge by a significant margin—she’d confirmed that with Nightingale, who had drummed it into her repeatedly. The electrical stones the demons carried had a radius of roughly five meters. She needed to come in fast, deliver fire from outside that range, and be gone before they could track her.

“Can you bind them with vines? Like in the Barbarian Land?”

“For a short time. Yes.”

“Good. We come from above—they won’t be looking up. While they’re distracted by the vines, we hit them from behind. Over in seconds.”

A tremor ran through the leaves Leaf was using as her avatar. She was afraid, and trying not to show it. Lightning understood. Leaf had memories from the Witch Cooperation Association that had never fully healed—memories that made the word demon land differently than it did for someone who hadn’t been there.

But Lightning had already delayed long enough. She could feel her own nerve fraying at the edges; if she waited any longer, she’d lose what little momentum she’d built.

“Starting now.” She launched herself straight up through the canopy.

“Coo!” Maggie was already behind her, riding an updraft, shifting from pigeon into the broad wings of a gray-tailed hawk.

Below, the forest resolved into white and dark green, broken by the charcoal lines of bare branches. Lightning pulled her goggles down over her eyes—a gift from His Highness—and felt some of her fear simplify into focus.

“There.” Maggie’s voice was sharp and sure. The hawk’s eyes missed nothing; a running rabbit in fresh snow was a trivial target. Two demons walked unhurried through the underbrush.

Lightning breathed in. Thunder. His Highness. Both of them expecting her to be alive when this was over.

“I take the one on the left. You take the right. When we’re halfway down, transform.”

“Leave it to me, coo.”

“Go.”

She folded into a dive. Cold air hammered past her cheeks. She turned her face into the scarf and kept her eyes fixed on the shape below—tallish, blue-grey skin, moving without urgency, without apparent awareness of the sky. She ran Nightingale’s instruction through her head: aim for the widest body surface, not the head. Come in horizontal when possible, not straight down. Effective bullet range is a hundred meters; shoot at seven or eight to be certain of hitting.

Seven or eight. She kept falling.

Below, the vines erupted from the snow like something that had been waiting. Green ropes whipped around legs, climbing, coiling. Both demons lurched and slowed, fighting the restraint—

And then one of them stopped and looked up.

How? Lightning’s stomach dropped. The demon’s perception was wrong, faster than it should have been—its head had tracked them before she’d made a sound.

A roar broke from it.

She didn’t stop. Stopping was the mistake; stopping put her in position to be targeted while stationary. She pulled her line wider, arcing around to come at the demon from behind rather than above, Nightingale’s voice in her head: widest body surface.

Fifty meters. Forty. She cut sideways, leveled her trajectory, and at thirty meters she yanked the trigger.

The pistol cracked above the forest.

At the same moment the demon’s iron glove flared—blue-white arcing light, brilliant even in daylight, reaching out across five meters of air. Just barely short of Maggie’s line of descent. The discharge collapsed as fast as it appeared.

Maggie, already transformed into the vast dark-winged shape, shrieked as she struck the second demon head-on, driving it into the snow with her full weight. The ground jumped. Black gas began leaking from the cracked cylinder on the demon’s back, red and sweet-smelling in the cold air.

Lightning pulled up and circled, her eyes already on Maggie—and her heart seized.

The first demon, the one she’d shot, was crumpled in the vines. Chest caved, the bullet’s exit visible where it had passed through and destroyed the gas bottle beneath. But Maggie was down as well, rolling in the snow, her massive form sparking faintly at the edges. The second demon had managed a discharge before she’d reached it.

“Maggie!”

Leaf was already moving. A net of vines gathered around the giant bird and dragged her free of the spreading Red Mist. Maggie rolled twice and lay still.

Lightning dropped beside her, both hands on the massive head, shaking. “Wake up. Are you hurt?”

“Coo…” Maggie’s eye opened, unfocused. “Everything is numb.”

The transformation came on its own, her human form reclaiming itself as the magic power faded. She sat up in the snow, blinking, looking puzzled.

Lightning checked her—arms, face, the line of her collarbone—and finally let herself breathe. Intact. In her giant form Maggie was large enough to absorb the discharge without the current reaching anything vital; the demon had been directly underneath her when she fell, cushioning the impact. The worst outcome possible had produced the best injury possible.

“Both are dead,” Leaf said from the nearest trunk, her voice very controlled. She was examining the two forms in the snow with the attention of someone making absolutely sure. “What do we do with them?”

Lightning stood. “We bring them back. His Highness needs to see this.”

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