Night fell.
Judy gripped her longsword, planting its tip firmly on the ground. She stood in silence, gazing up at the sky and the bright full moon hanging high above. Her fiery red hair fluttered in the night breeze, like flames burning and leaping with untamed energy.
"Sigh…"
Every time she saw such a beautiful full moon, Judy couldn't help but think of her past—her homeland, her people, that great nation which had once borne the moon as its banner. Centuries later, it had been reduced to a mere footnote in the dust of history. As for her, she was bound by a vicious curse, trapped in this world with no hope of escape.
But that was all it ever was—just a passing thought.
No waves of longing stirred the calm lake of her heart. Once one of the mightiest warriors of her time, Judy had long ago mastered the art of controlling her emotions. A true warrior, she believed, must possess the passion of fire and the calm resolve of ice. That was the creed she lived by. Even as a wandering spirit, she had maintained her composure, never succumbing to the madness that had driven her companions to despair and agony in their cursed state. Such weakness was meaningless. A warrior lives to fight—against nature, against enemies, against oneself. These battles were woven into the very fabric of a warrior's life, flowing in their blood for eternity.
Yet, for all her resolve, Judy was still a young woman at heart.
She blinked, pulling her thoughts back to the dim river valley before her. Bathed in moonlight, the already treacherous terrain looked like a massive spiderweb woven from shadows, with ferocious hunters lurking in its depths, ready to pounce on any foolish prey that stumbled into their snare.
So, who exactly was the hunter—and who was the prey?
A faint, beautiful smile tugged at the corner of Judy's lips, then vanished just as quickly. The youthful vibrancy faded from her lovely face, replaced by the calm, impassive expression of a seasoned warrior. Staring up at the full moon hanging in the night sky, she couldn't help but recall that unforgettable night once more.
It had been a night of equally bright moonlight, its glow mingling with the hazy mist of spirits, casting a pale yet brilliant radiance over everything. The spirits, who had long lost their sanity and raged on purely by instinct, had fallen silent, restored to their former peace. Standing before them had been a young man with black hair.
"Would you ladies care to join me?"
His voice was not loud, yet it cut through the chaotic din of all the spirits gathered there.
"I cannot promise you the freedom you desire. But I can offer you another kind—a limited freedom. One that I believe is far better than the fate you currently endure."
That had been the first time Judy and her companions had met Black.
At first, Judy's feelings toward her new master had been complicated. As he had said, Black was a knight with no knowledge of magic. He could not lift the curse that bound their souls, nor could he return them to the cycle of life as pure mana, freeing them from their suffering. But he could grant these wandering spirits physical form, allowing them to exist in the world as tangible beings, if only with limited freedom. Even so, it was more than they could have dared to hope for.
Lost in thought, Judy lowered her gaze to her hands. They were exactly as she remembered them—not the soft, delicate hands of a maiden, but calloused and rough from years of wielding a sword. This body, forged from condensed mana, was a perfect replica of the one she had possessed in life, down to the smallest detail.
But things were not that simple.
Judy could sense that many of her sisters were nearing their limit. Though they had regained their sanity, even spirits could not escape the passage of time. As the years wore on, their rationality was beginning to fray at the edges. Living as ordinary humans had allowed them to preserve their emotions and memories, but when those final threads snapped, the spirits would inevitably face a second "death." To endure this cycle repeatedly over the long centuries—even a dragon would struggle to hold on.
What choice would his lordship make?
Judy thought of that face again. Though time had changed its features in subtle ways, its essence remained the same—that elegant, confident, proud smile, as if he held all the strings of fate in his hands. Judy was certain Black already knew of her sisters' predicament. They might hold on for another hundred years, perhaps two hundred—but what then? What would become of them?
And what would become of him?
"Judy?"
The familiar voice jolted Judy out of her reverie. She blinked, then snapped back to her senses, straightening her posture instantly. Her hands tightened around the hilt of her sword, drawing comfort from its cold touch as she dispelled the fog of confusion from her mind. She bit her lower lip gently, then replied silently in her heart.
"I am here, my lord."
As Black's contracted spirits, Judy and her sisters shared a telepathic link with him. It was a bond she took for granted.
"Have you reached the designated location?"
"Yes, my lord. We are resting here now, awaiting your orders."
"Good."
Through their mental connection, Judy could see Black nod in approval—a sight that filled her with a surge of pride. It was the satisfaction of a warrior who had fulfilled her duty.
"Our bait is already on the move. You may begin your operation. I trust you know what to do."
"Yes, my lord."
Though her heart was filled with elation, Judy did not let it show. She responded with her usual calm, then severed the telepathic link. She stood tall, turning to face her companions, and raised her right hand high before bringing it down in a sharp, decisive gesture.
The shadows began to stir, boiling with suppressed energy. Then, the orc warriors let out a low, rumbling roar, merging into a river of black as they followed the single streak of fiery red, surging down the hillside.