I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 383 - 379 – Return to Nocture

The journey home to Nocture began with cold gusts of wind sweeping down from the towering purple snow mountains behind Ironvale. The sky remained heavily overcast, gray clouds rolling slowly as if trailing their steps, but the torrential rain from last night’s storm had finally ceased. Noir flew steadily at mid-altitude, his tattered wings beating in a calm rhythm, his massive body easily carrying Sylvia and Sofia across the fertile valleys thick with wet wild grass and low trees covered in deep green leaves. The air felt fresher now scented with damp stone mixed with moist earth after the rain, and the faint wild pine aroma that grew sporadically along the lower mountain slopes.

Sylvia sat upright on Noir’s back, her black coat fluttering gently in the wind, her glowing red eyes fixed forward toward the east toward Nocture, still distant but already calling home. The Chain of Abyss at her wrist was silent now, no longer trembling as it had in Ironvale, but her mind was far from calm. The shadow of betrayal, the pure mythril that had leaked outward, the intermediary named Veyr, and the possibility of an insider in Nocture kept swirling in her thoughts like dark mist that refused to dissipate. Sofia held her waist more tightly than usual from behind, chin resting on her queen’s shoulder, golden hair fluttering softly.

"Sylvia... are you sure the traitor is still in Nocture?" Sofia asked quietly, her voice nearly swallowed by the rushing wind of flight.

"Yes," Sylvia answered curtly, her tone flat but filled with certainty. "Pure mythril couldn’t have left without help from inside. Alicia must already know. Her spirits never lie."

Sofia gave a small nod, though her golden eyes dimmed slightly. "I hope so. But if they’ve already been caught... this whole journey back feels pointless. We should’ve just continued the vacation."

Sylvia didn’t reply immediately. She gently patted Noir’s neck, making the zombie dragon let out a soft growl in response. These two days of travel had felt longer than usual not because of the distance, but because of the unrelenting weight on her mind. The dense forest below gradually gave way to familiar open plains: rocky hills covered in wild grass, slow-flowing purple crystal rivers, and thin mist rising from the damp ground. The scent of moist earth grew stronger, carrying memories of Nocture drawing ever closer.

Two days passed in a calm yet tense rhythm. The first night they camped beside an icy river, Sylvia’s purple death-flame campfire burned without smoke, warming their bodies against the mountain chill. Sofia slept soundly in her sleeping bag, Noir keeping watch with his glowing red eyes in the darkness. Sylvia sat gazing at the rare stars peeking through the clouds, her mind drifting to possibilities: Who in Nocture had access to the mythril vault? The mining dwarves? The perimeter guardians? Or someone even closer to one of her own sisters?

The second night, in an open valley, the wind was gentler but still bitingly cold. Sofia chatted lightly about what they would do in Nocture, perhaps cook young wyrm soup like in Ironvale, or read novels with Stacia in the castle’s reading room. Sylvia listened, but her responses remained short. Noir growled in agreement every time Sofia mentioned food, his small wings trembling faintly as if imagining fresh prey.

Finally, after two days, Nocture appeared on the horizon: the towering black castle rising like a spear of darkness, surrounded by the ever-present thin mist, its black rose garden blooming thickly beneath the eternal gray sky. The faint clang of dwarf hammers echoed from the iron district, the howls of lycanthropes from the training arena sounded like songs of victory, and the subtle breath of thin black mist felt like the cold yet secure embrace of home.

Noir landed gently in the castle’s front courtyard. The faint tremor of the ground barely registered; there was no panic; the people of Nocture were accustomed to their queen’s return. Several young lycanthropes ran closer, yellow eyes glowing with curiosity, but they stopped when they saw Noir shrink back to cat size and leap onto Sylvia’s shoulder.

Alicia was already waiting at the castle gate, her spirit form floating faintly with a silvery-blue shimmer. Stacia stood beside her, thick novel in hand but neatly closed, black eyes narrowed sharply. Celes hovered above, her crystalline body flickering softly as if scanning the surroundings.

"Sylvia... you returned quickly," Alicia said in a gentle yet firm voice. "We’ve already handled everything."

Sylvia gave a small nod, but her red eyes burned as she looked at them. "The traitor."

Alicia nodded. "Captured. Two days ago. The perimeter spirits reported strange movements in the mythril vault. We investigated three humans who had infiltrated as merchants. They were selling mythril outward through Veyr, an elf who frequently passes through spatial rifts. We captured Veyr as well at the southern border."

Sofia let out a long sigh, her hand touching Sylvia’s arm. "So... it was already finished before we even got back. This journey home feels pointless, doesn’t it, Sylvia? We should’ve just kept vacationing."

Sylvia was silent for a moment, but the corner of her mouth lifted faintly. "Not pointless. Now we know. And we’re home."

Stacia fully closed her novel. "The traitor is in the underground prison. Awaiting your judgment."

They entered the castle. The dark obsidian corridors welcomed them with familiar chill, soft purple crystal light from the walls reflecting gently off the black stone floor. Castle residents, elves, dwarves, lycanthropes bowed respectfully as they passed, but there was no grand welcome. Nocture was not a place for celebration; it was a place of power and quiet.

In the throne room, Sylvia seated herself on the tall obsidian throne, Chain of Abyss coiled loosely around her wrist. Alicia, Stacia, and Celes stood before her, delivering detailed reports: the traitor was a human who had infiltrated as a merchant, stealing pure mythril from the vault using simple illusion magic that slipped past Alicia’s spirits. They had sold it to southern artifact-hunter groups including the ones who attacked in Ironvale.

Sylvia listened with her red eyes glowing. "Punish them. Execution tomorrow morning."

Alicia nodded. "Already prepared."

But the matter didn’t end there. Sylvia summoned the head dwarf miner an elderly dwarf named Grimgor with a long gray beard and eyes like black obsidian. He stood firm before the throne, though his hands trembled slightly when Sylvia questioned him about the missing mythril.

"We... didn’t know, Your Majesty. We forge according to materials. Nothing was missing from our records."

Sylvia stared at him sharply. "Yet mythril leaked. You forge it. You guard the vault." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Grimgor bowed his head. "We failed. But we didn’t know intruders had entered."

Sylvia was silent for a moment. The dwarves were loyal; they had never betrayed since the beginning. But this mistake could not be overlooked. "Your punishment: forbidden from forging anything with mythril for two years. Focus only on regular crystal iron."

Grimgor shuddered. For a dwarf, mythril was their soul, the most sacred, purest material. A light punishment to a human, but devastating to them. "Your Majesty... that’s like cutting off our hands."

Sylvia remained unmoved. "That is the punishment. Learn from the mistake."

Grimgor nodded slowly and retreated with heavy steps. Sylvia let out a small sigh. Her trust in humans was wearing thinner: they who leaked, they who betrayed. She almost wanted to restrict human entry to Nocture, close the gates to outside merchants, but she knew that would be unwise. Nocture needed trade. Needed growth. So she let it continue but tightened oversight: more of Alicia’s spirits, strengthened spatial rifts by Celes, doubled lycanthrope guards at the vaults.

After the matter was settled, Sylvia and Sofia left the castle. Noir on Sylvia’s shoulder, they visited the now-vast farmlands in the southern district. Green fields stretched wide vegetables, grains, and wild fruits blooming thickly after the long rains. Mixed human, elf, and lycanthrope farmers worked cheerfully, harvesting wild apples and glistening crystal mushrooms. The fresh scent mingled with damp earth made Sofia smile.

"Beautiful, isn’t it, Sylvia? This farm is like a giant garden now."

Sylvia gave a small nod. "Good. Plenty of harvest this year."

They continued to the western district’s livestock pens: enclosures for cows, chickens, goats, and rabbits now larger and more dangerous after the fusion. Thick-furred cows with crystal horns, chickens that could glide low like small eagles, goats with glowing yellow eyes, rabbits with teeth sharp as knives. But they were becoming tame again; lycanthrope handlers had trained them well, and special feed from wild mushrooms kept them calm.

A lycanthrope guard approached, offering a soft growl like a greeting. "Your Majesty... the livestock is secure. The animals are strong, but obedient now."

Sylvia nodded, touching the nearest cow’s muzzle as it bowed respectfully. "Good. Continue."

Afterward, they returned to the castle. Sofia walked beside her, Noir still on Sylvia’s shoulder. The day had turned to late afternoon; thin mist began rising again from Nocture’s soil. In the throne room, Sylvia sank into the soft obsidian sofa, letting out a quiet sigh of exhaustion.

Sofia sat beside her, hand resting on Sylvia’s shoulder. "Tired? Rest for a while."

Sylvia gave a small nod, her red eyes half-closed. "Yes."

Noir leaped into her lap and curled up warmly. The silence of the castle welcomed them home, safe, yet filled with endless duties that never truly ended.