Reanimating two hundred and twenty-six rodents made her reach her absolute limit.
She used all the essence from the Demon Lord's staff, much of hers, and even the golem didn't remain unscathed. Good thing Stella started with the ravens. She would've collapsed otherwise.
But now that she'd done it, raising an army of dead uh—
Squirrels. Yeah, not exactly a deadly force, but this was what they needed.
All she could afford.
To think she'd zombified two hundred of the Church's lackeys earlier. She syphoned all their life essence first, froze over the entirety of Halaima, and—
She almost consumed herself in the process.
Now that she had made sure not to harm anyone else, things became ten times more difficult.
"Can't tell if it's the most disturbing or impressive thing I've seen," Welf muttered. He covered his face with both hands, trying not to throw up.
Why he stayed with her in the first place, Stella couldn't tell.
But he was there. And the Demon Lord's skull-topped staff was amazing.
She couldn't have succeeded without it, small rodents or not.
Since the Prodigy and Maou Midori disappeared, she grew so dependent on the artifact.
Whether that was good or bad, she was still unsure.
But the spirits—if they had an opinion about it at all—no longer told her.
No guidance, no warnings, no cacophony. Getting used to the silence was easier than living with voices. But now, her own mind filled the gaps, thoughts becoming fickle and ever louder.
"Hey, airhead," the blacksmith whispered, bumping her shoulder. "Still with us?"
Stella flinched.
"Yes, sorry," she mumbled, trying to rein herself in. "Did you say anything?"
"I asked how we'll get the critters to the mountains?" Welf repeated, voice muffled as he covered his mouth. "It'd take them a while to reach the peaks. Even if they don't need rest."
Right.
For someone so disgusted and—well, simple—he asked the most practical questions.
"D-do you think we could borrow Lady Gabrielle's carriage?" Stella asked. "Ride along the foot of the mountains, then let them find their posts from there."
The lady in question was still in her self-proclaimed isolation in Halaima.
Was she mourning her husband's disappearance? Messengers from Aset tried to take her home. But as she refused to talk to anyone from Konrad's followers, she also rejected her father's men.
Thus, they still had all her resources here.
Not using them when time was of the essence seemed like a waste.
"Won't they bite?" Welf looked over the little swarm. "I could fit most of them into the compartment, but—I ain't touching them, that's for sure."
Stella let out a little laugh.
A tired one, but a laugh nonetheless.
"You could crush them with a single swing," she pointed out. "They're like mice to you."
"And elephants are huge. They're still afraid of the mouse, so give me a break," the redhead complained. Stella knew he was more afraid of her than any of her creations.
But he still followed her everywhere when he wasn't out scouting.
Bonding? Security? Keeping an eye on her?
Either way, she was glad she didn't have to be alone.
"They do whatever I tell them," she claimed. "If I want them to climb into the carriage, they will without you shoving them inside. They also know where to jump out and where to go."
Plus, with how much energy she spent on them, they'd also survive on their own for months.
She pointed at the crows next.
"Follow them. Smart birds. They know the roads—which one's fastest, which one's good for the carriage. It'll still take a few days, but there's no way the nomads would be faster."
Welf nodded, even if reluctant to look at her creations.
Not that they were rotting corpses. Fresh kills, only caked in their own blood.
But yeah. Undead through and through.
A holler echoed her self-deprecatig thoughts.
Even if it wasn't her. Neither of them.
"What a bizarre way of using my unholy weapon."
The unfamiliar voice boomed from somewhere above.
Stella jolted, looking at the sky and spotting Gabrielle.
Except—no.
That was a man with wings like her undead ravens, looking like the Duchess of Halaima.
"What the hell?!" Welf grunted, unsheathing his huge adamantite Zweihander. His voice dropped to a whisper as he stood between her and the stranger. "Is that Maou Midori?"
Whisper or not, the stranger laughed at the question.
He sank lower in the sky.
"You could've conquered Kasserlane in a week," he said, rather than answering. "It would have taken the entire Church to stop you—if they could do it in the first place. And here you are."
The dark, angelic figure waved at her reanimated rodents.
"Resurrecting squirrels. Always serving, always ashamed of yourself."
"He is not," Stella answered to Welf, feeling the staff in her grip resonate with the stranger.
Stranger yet someone familiar.
And much stronger than the Demon Lord could ever be.
"He must be—"
She couldn't finish, as time seemed to have stopped.
"Whoops," the angelic figure said, wrapping himself with his dark wings, and—
KA-BOOM.
The most powerful beam of energy hit him square on the side, blinding Stella in the process.
She shielded her eyes too late, but she could still see the dark silhouette. Hovering. Unscatched.
"What kind of greeting is that, dear sister?" the stranger asked, looking past them both.
When she followed his gaze, she spotted Gabrielle—the real one this time.
And she seemed somewhat different, too.
The same usual frilly blue dress, but majestic white angel wings. A halo glowing in gold over her head—contrasting with the most murderous face she had ever seen on her.
When did she even get here, and how?
No, she knew exactly. Stella had seen this before.
Lady Gabrielle froze time like Stella could freeze an entire landscape.
She was way more powerful than she looked; the usual image of the sickly princess was gone.
And yet, her insane attack could not put a scratch on her—her brother?!
"Lucifer," the angel gritted out. "The greater demon told me you'd show up. But now of all times? Both Maou Midori and your pet are long gone."
Pet? Did she mean the Prodigy or the dragoness?
"Oh, I know," the dark-winged angel laughed. "I've met them already, though—there've been some setbacks. I only came to retrieve my staff. But wait. How do you still remember her?"
The staff. So he was the one giving this artifact to the Demon Lord?!
Stella gripped it even tighter, knuckles turning white on the necromancer's weapon.
"Fool," Gabrielle scoffed. "I control time the same way you can alter minds. Erasing one timeline won't make me forget her. And if you've met them—did your friend turn against you?"
Time. Minds. Most of that flew straight over her head.
She couldn't even tell who these people were anymore.
Or rather—these angels. Which one was her enemy? Lucifer, who seemed to have something to do with Konrad? Or Gabrielle, who toyed with Stella like she were a cog in the machine.
Could she even do anything against either of them?
She had the staff, but—
"If they start fighting," Welf muttered when she had already forgotten about him, "we run."
Yeah. That was the most sensible action.
Too bad. Stella never thought of herself as sane.