When Nyx cut off Spencer’s head, there wasn’t any blood, and there weren’t even any gross insect parts or residues. It just rolled for a moment and stopped. Spencer’s body didn’t fall over. It sat down, calmly rolled up into a ball, and plopped onto its side.

Nyx’s current, living weapon was reshaping and contorting herself too. Felicity, still held by the scruff in Nyx’s hand, calmly whirled and recombined her wooden parts like a Swiss army knife, in an effort to make those parts into the sharpest, least fragile wooden sword possible.

Nyx didn’t seem to be focusing on any of it—not their servant, not the body, nothing.

“Lord Nyx,” offered Felicity, “before I knock myself out, should I, uh, offer you an update on the castle?”

“I’m not playing anymore, Urrich,” said Nyx, facing the wall. Their voice ambled, and Felicity wondered if they were drunk. “I refuse! You’ll have to find someone else to play with! It won’t be that hard, will it? But who am I kidding—I can’t rest until I stop you.”

A spidery wood tendril telescoped out from Felicity and poked Nyx on the arm. “Um, hello my lord?”

“And sooner rather than later is good,” Nyx added, talking to themself now. “Right now is good, right? I’m crafty. I took out some other predator’s whole kingdom...”

They stopped.

Nyx took a quick breath and screamed. It was a horrific noise—the first time Felicity had ever thought Nyx sounded like a demon.

After eight seconds, Nyx stopped screaming.

They grumbled “fuck” and dropped their head, as if just to remind themself they’d been human.

They started moving, apparently pacing, and swinging Felicity the sword. “What do I do now?” they muttered.

“You’re asking me?” said Felicity. “Well, I suggest—”

“Irgh!” groaned Nyx, and they hammered the imp down onto Spencer’s body. Her dull side bashed and bruised against it several times before Nyx found the cutting edge and started tearing through. A minute later, the corpse looked lumpy and discolored, like a dummy thrown in a busy street.

After that, Nyx turned to the head. The head was gone.

“That sucks,” mumbled Nyx.

Then they pounded Felicity against the stones on the floor, over and over again. They had to stop sometime, though, and eventually they did.

“He’s gonna come back,” said Nyx, pacing again. “No, he’s already here.”

“...Am I allowed to ask what the plan is, here?” said Felicity.

“No. Slightly. The demon who turned me has been toying with me from the edges of my existence, for a while now. I just made a declaration of war, but I’m at least a hundred years out from being able to put a dent in him.” Nyx pinched the corner of their eye, which did nothing. “Damn. I thought that would induce tears.”

“It sounds like you’ve had a long day, lord!” chirped Felicity. “Maybe what you need is to leave this whole dungeon and go to sleep...”

“No, no...” Nyx shook their head. Inside, their mind was going in uncountable directions. “...You’re the one who needs to go back to sleep. If a battle right here is what’s gonna happen, I don’t want him killing you.”

“Are you saying that killing you would be—”

“No! But he might, and...honestly he might as well. In terms of swords, I can do better than you.”

Felicity’s pride was shattered.

“Go sleep!” they hollered as they shoved Felicity back through the void that led to Castle Nightfall.

“Good night, Lo—”

Her voice cut off. Nyx fished around and found the Hellrazor, whirled it about, got uesd to its weight again.

A chorus of little ticking sounds struck them. Nyx found a message spread out on the floor, spelled in living things: “DONE YET.”

Nyx didn’t bother replying in words. They sighed a loud sigh and crouched into a fine fighting position. They could imagine more laughter behind the scenes.

Out from underneath of every infinitesimal pebble and overhang studding this cavern, out from every bit of shade, came a centipede larger than the room. Not bit by bit, but all at once—as suddenly as the wall-mandrake had degenerated and made its room a warehouse, Urrich had appeared in full and condensed what had already been a box.

Nyx assured themself that in the course of this battle, they would think of something he wouldn’t expect.

“Just kill me now, man.”

“UNHAND HER!” cried a familiar voice.

From where? It echoed—it was hard to say. (Also, good intentions but weird phrasing, plus technically Urrich didn’t have hands right now?)

Yet Nyx was glad—tentatively glad—to hear from Ragnorre.