I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 390 - 386 – The Spreading Rumors

Several weeks after the battle in the skies above Nocture, the world seemed to hold its breath.

News of the ten six-winged angels who died within minutes spread like an unstoppable black mist. Merchants carried the tale southward, dwarf caravans whispered it northward, and even the monsters in the central valleys seemed to avoid Nocture as if they knew something far more terrifying lurked within. The rumor grew larger with every retelling: "The Queen of Death didn’t even need to move... just her two sisters alone wiped out ten holy angels in an instant." "She didn’t even use her full power." "Nocture is no longer a city... it’s a graveyard for arrogant gods." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Lesser gods from the Greek pantheon, low-ranking angels from the Order of Eternal Light, even a few demons who had lurked at dimensional rifts all of them failed. One after another, their attacks were crushed before they could truly begin. The arrogant Aeolus was incinerated by Stacia’s fire. The ten six-winged angels vanished in two black explosions. Several other wind gods who tried to blow storms toward the city were immediately intercepted by Alicia and the now-strengthened perimeter spirits. Mid-level demons who slipped through spatial rifts Celes’s domain never even reached the castle walls; chains from the Chain of Abyss emerged from the shadows on their own, greeting them with unbearable cold.

All of them failed.

That caused several factions to begin rethinking their strategies.

In a secret southern headquarters, lesser gods from the Norse pantheon gathered in the darkness of a frozen fjord. Those who had once intended to storm Nocture to seize mithril and Lucifer’s Spear now fell completely silent. Their leader, an ice god tapped the stone table with his freezing fingers. "We wait for now," he said quietly. "That Queen... she rarely uses her full power. If she ever truly becomes serious, even those of us who have lived for ages might not survive."

In the higher angelic realm, the remaining shook their heads. "We miscalculated. The girl with Lucifer’s Spear is no ordinary human. And her Queen... she’s like a monster deliberately pretending to sleep."

The rumor spread far and wide, reaching even the fused cities. In Ironvale once a stopover for Sylvia and Sofia the taverns now buzzed with talk. "Nocture is untouchable." "The Queen of Death just sits in her garden drinking tea, and her enemies die before they even touch the ground." "Better not touch that city again."

As a result, Nocture had become far quieter lately.

The city gates were no longer attacked. Trade caravans arrived with greater respect, heads bowed as they passed the lycanthrope guards. Alicia’s perimeter guardians reported almost no more spatial rifts being infiltrated. Stacia even had more time to read her novels on the balcony. Celes floated leisurely in her tower.

And Sylvia... could finally relax.

That morning, in the Queen’s private study, the large obsidian desk usually buried under stacks of parchment was nearly empty. City development documents had drastically decreased. Southern crop harvests were stable, western livestock farms were problem-free, the mithril mines were tightly secured with no leaks, and the city perimeter was safe. Only a few minor reports remained: wild apple yields and a new, routine request from the dwarves for ordinary crystal materials.

Sylvia finished them quickly.

Dark purple-black ink flowed from her fingertips, leaving the Queen’s cold, decisive signature on each document. No long deliberation needed. No need to summon Alicia or Stacia for consultation. In less than an hour, everything was done. She closed the final ledger, then let out a long sigh of a cold breath that formed a small puff of white vapor in the room’s air.

The Chain of Abyss trembled softly once around her wrist, as if sharing her relief.

Sylvia stood, her black mantle sweeping across the obsidian floor. Noir, who had been curled up on the desk, leaped onto her shoulder with a low, satisfied growl. She walked out of the study; the cold castle corridors greeted her with a comfortable silence. Shadow elf and lycanthrope guards nodded respectfully without a word they knew the Queen was in a rare mood.

She headed to the back garden.

Thin black mist still drifted low among the thickly blooming black roses. The giant treant towered above, its branches swaying gently in welcome. Her favorite small branch immediately began plop-plop excitedly upon seeing her, rolling toward her feet like a child longing for attention. Noir jumped down, sniffed the branch, then growled softly while stretching.

Sylvia sat on the large rock that had become her favorite spot. Her black mantle spread across the damp grass. She leaned back against the treant’s trunk, red eyes half-closed. The cold night wind brushed her face, carrying the thick, sweet scent of black roses.

Sofia appeared shortly after, carrying two steaming cups of fragrant herbal tea. Her golden hair fell softly. She sat beside Sylvia and handed her one cup.

"Everything finished?" she asked gently, giving a small smile.

Sylvia nodded, accepting the cup. "Yes. Nothing urgent left."

Sofia leaned her head against Sylvia’s shoulder. "Good. Finally, you can truly rest."

They drank in comfortable silence. Warm tea vapor mingled with the cold breeze. The small treant branch plop-plopped gently in Sofia’s lap, as if humming. Noir curled between them, his soft purring sounding like a lullaby.

Sylvia looked upward at the slowly swaying black-silver leaves. Her thoughts drifted not to the next threat, not to gods or angels possibly plotting anew. For now, she simply enjoyed it.

The widespread rumor had unexpectedly brought a blessing. The outside world was afraid. They thought twice before attacking. And Nocture... could finally breathe.

Sofia squeezed Sylvia’s hand tighter. "You’ve looked calmer lately."

Sylvia gave a faint smile, one that rarely appeared. "Because you’re here."

Sofia laughed softly, her voice like a small bell in the mist. "Then... I’ll always be here."

They sat for a long time in that garden. The fused sun, hidden behind clouds, never truly rose, but for Sylvia, today felt brighter than usual. Documents done. City safe. Sofia at her side. Noir purring contentedly. The once-small treant branch now grown kept plop-plopping as if sharing the happiness.

Far to the south, some factions were indeed reorganizing their strategies. Norse lesser gods postponed their assault. High angels dispatched new scouts. High-level demons began rethinking. All because of the same rumor: "The Queen of Death rarely uses her full power... but when she does, even gods die in an instant."

But in the garden of Nocture Castle, all of that felt distant.

Sylvia closed her eyes, letting the cold wind brush her face. The Chain of Abyss lay still at her wrist. For the first time in a long while, she was truly relaxed.

And the world, for the moment, let her be.

Noir growled softly once more, as if in agreement. Sofia smiled, leaning her head even closer. The small treant branch plop-plopped gently, like the rhythm of a calm heartbeat.

They knew this peace was fragile. But for now... it was enough.

In the back garden of the castle, Sylvia still sat leaning against the giant treant’s trunk, red eyes half-closed, savoring the cold breeze carrying the thick scent of black roses. Beside her, Sofia smiled softly; the small treant branch plop-plopped gently in her lap, Noir purred warmly between them. For the first time in a long while, there were no urgent documents, no sudden reports. Only gentle tranquility, like a thin black mist blanket covering Nocture.

But in faraway places, that very tranquility had become poison.

In a distant northern frozen fjord, inside a gigantic ice cave lit by faint aurora glow, lesser and mid-tier Norse gods gathered. Elsewhere, the remaining eight-winged angels of the Eternal Light Order floated with dull white wings, their faces pale.

"Our forces... are afraid," murmured an ice goddess with long ice-colored hair, her voice like cracking cold wind. "They’ve heard the rumors. Ten six-winged angels died in an instant. Aeolus burned without a chance to fight back. That Queen of Death... she rarely uses her full power. They say if she ever truly gets serious, even those of us who have lived for ages might not survive."

An eight-winged angel nodded slowly, wings trembling. "Our angelic forces too. They saw our holy light snuffed out like candles. They’re afraid to face Nocture. They say... it’s better to wait."

They did not want Nocture to become too dominant. The power of mithril, Lucifer’s Spear, and the increasingly potent aura of death after the world fusion made other pantheons restless. But the only way was to wait for higher beings to descend from archangels of the highest order, major gods still locked in the divine realm, or even entities older than the fusion itself.

"But that could take an uncertain amount of time," said one Norse god, tapping his cracked weapon. "They rarely descend. And in the meantime... Nocture grows stronger. That Queen grows more relaxed. We need another way."

In another, darker cave to the south, surrounded by blood-red mist, surviving mid-level demons and remaining Greek gods gathered. They whispered, eyes filled with doubt. "That Queen of Death... she just sits in her garden drinking tea. And her enemies die. How do we attack something that never truly gets angry?"

In Nocture itself, Sylvia was unaware of the details of those meetings. She only felt a faint vibration in the Chain of Abyss like distant, restless whispers. But she didn’t care. She gripped Sofia’s hand tighter, closed her eyes, and let the cold wind sweep across her face.