I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 396 - 392 – The Clear River

The following days in Nocture passed in a slow, steady rhythm, as if the entire obsidian city was taking a long, deep breath after the sudden angelic storm that had struck like lightning in the dark night. The thin black mist still drifted low between the gleaming stone streets, but it no longer felt like a choking threat; it was more like a soft blanket gently enveloping the city with a strange, almost soothing tenderness. The faint golden light from Sofia’s evolution the day before still lingered in the air like eternal pollen, making the treant leaves shimmer more vibrantly, their green veins pulsing slowly as if breathing. The black roses in the castle gardens bloomed even more thickly, their petals thick and glossy, their sweet-ferocious fragrance blending with the scent of damp earth after a light rain. The cold wind that once pierced to the bone now carried a new gentleness, caressing anyone who passed with affectionate breaths, as if Nocture itself was breathing a sigh of relief after the brief threat from the sky.

Yet beneath that peace, something gnawed at Sylvia’s heart like an invisible thorn. She felt it every morning when the first light crept through the black glass windows of her study. As the Queen of Nocture, she sat in the tall, cold obsidian chair, the large desk before her piled high with stacks of parchment and scrolls of reports that never truly ran out. Deep purple-black ink flowed smoothly from her fingertips as she signed each one the increasingly bountiful southern harvest, the dwarven caravan’s request for mithril energy crystals, Alicia’s always-timely perimeter security reports, even the small notes about the lycanthrope children who were beginning to learn how to control their full-moon instincts through meditation under the fake moonlight. She worked quickly and decisively, her movements precise like a sword that never missed. But behind that cold expression and half-lidded red eyes, irritation was building like storm clouds in her chest.

I want to go out so badly... she thought, letting out a cold sigh that formed a small puff of white vapor in the air. Leveling up out there, facing monsters that could actually threaten my life, feeling the adrenaline when my full power is truly put to use. But now... I’m the queen. My people must be safe first. Only then can I be free.

Those words felt like a mantra she repeated every day, yet the more she said them, the emptier they sounded. The responsibility of being Queen was no longer just a burden; it was like invisible iron chains binding the wings that once flew freely. Nocture had to remain strong, stable, unshakable. That was what kept her anchored to the queen’s seat every day, even as her chest felt tight, as if an unseen hand were slowly squeezing her heart. She remembered how she used to run into the forest without a second thought, the Chain of Abyss shooting from the shadows, monster blood spraying across her face. Now everything felt too controlled. Too safe. Too... boring.

Noir, who once faithfully followed Sylvia everywhere like a living shadow, had grown lazier. The zombie dragon now spent most of its time curled up on its favorite rock in the castle’s back garden, its jet-black scales gleaming faintly in the dim light, its tail swishing slowly as if mocking her. When Sylvia invited it for a morning walk, Noir only gave a low growl, stretched lazily, then yawned wide to show fangs that were no longer used for real battles. "You’ve gotten too lazy," Sylvia muttered, gently stroking its head. Her fingers traced the cold scales that once felt warm when they fought together. Noir only burrowed deeper into the small treant branch’s lap, plop-plop cheerfully, as if saying, You’re the one who changed, Queen. I’m just following.

Sylvia smiled faintly, but the smile never reached her eyes. She felt she was losing something that had once been so close to the unspoken bond between the queen and her loyal companion. Even Noir now preferred the comfort of the castle, the food provided by the servants, and the warmth of the obsidian stone over following its queen around a city that grew more peaceful by the day.

Sofia, the queen’s newly evolved companion, was also busy with her own world. She spent most of her time in the training field behind the castle, her ten golden wings spreading wide like a crown of light as she practiced. Life energy radiated from her perfect body, her extremely long golden hair whipping in the training wind, her golden eyes blazing with focus and determination. Sylvia often watched her from the study balcony, standing silently while gripping the cold stone railing. Sofia was now so strong, so beautiful, so... complete. They still met every night, embracing warmly in the black silk bed, their bodies pressed together in loving silence. But during the day... each had her own duties. Sofia was adjusting to her extraordinary new power, while Sylvia remained trapped behind her work desk.

Does she feel it too? Sylvia wondered one afternoon as she watched Sofia land gracefully after a series of light attacks. Or am I the only one going crazy from staying still too long?

A few days earlier, level 5 and 6 monsters had appeared in the forest behind Nocture massive creatures with sharp fangs, thick slimy skin, and dark auras that threatened like hellish mist. Sylvia had gone alone without calling anyone, her black cloak sweeping over the damp leaves. With just a few cold, swift strikes, the Chain of Abyss shot from the shadows, cruelly coiling around the monsters’ bodies, crushing bone and flesh in an instant. Her rank 6 body was already far too powerful; the monsters couldn’t last more than three attacks. Black blood sprayed onto her cloak, but Sylvia felt nothing except piercing boredom. Too easy, she thought while wiping the stains away with a casual swipe of her hand. Back then I had to fight with my life on the line to level up. Now... this is like dusting off my work desk.

She left the level 1 to 4 monsters alone. That had become the job of Nocture’s hunters, humans, dwarves, elves, and beastkin who needed income and experience. Sylvia only watched from afar, making sure no one was seriously hurt. But every time she saw them return with minor wounds and tired smiles, envy crept into her heart. They could still feel the struggle. Me? I’m just... watching.

The irritation and boredom gnawed at Sylvia more and more as the days passed. Her power had become too dominant, too perfect. Even when she walked through the city passing the bustling market filled with the aroma of warm bread and grilled meat, the stable western pastures where goats bleated cheerfully, the tightly guarded mithril mines she felt like she was only pretending. The people bowed respectfully, small treant children plop-plop cheerfully near her feet, their tiny hands touching her cloak in awe. Sylvia only nodded coldly, but inside she was screaming: I want to fight again. I want to feel the true limits of my strength. But... I’m the queen. I have to take care of them first.

That afternoon, after finishing the last document and inspecting the perimeter with Alicia, who reported in a firm yet respectful voice, Sylvia decided to take a walk alone. Her black cloak swept across the gleaming obsidian stone streets, her steps slow but determined, as if each one was a small act of defiance against the boredom that bound her. She passed the public garden, hearing the laughter of children playing with treant-leaf balls, their voices ringing like tiny bells. The wind carried the ever-stronger scent of black roses. She continued to the edge of the city, her feet leading her to a quiet little park beside the river, a place rarely visited because it was too far from the bustling center.

The small river flowed clear like a giant unbroken mirror. The water was so transparent that the rocky bottom and shadowy fish could be seen swimming slowly, their silver-and-black scales reflecting the faint sunlight that slipped through the mist. The surface sparkled like liquid gemstones, small ripples forming whenever the wind touched it. The little fish moved gracefully, as if dancing beneath the cold, fresh water. The scent of wet grass mixed with damp earth and distant black roses, making the air feel alive even though the city behind it brimmed with dark power.

Sylvia sat on a large rock at the river’s edge, her black cloak spread across the lush green grass nourished by Sofia’s life energy. She let out a long sigh, her chest rising and falling heavily. Then she waved her hand. From her system storage, a simple fishing rod appeared in her grasp a black wooden rod she had once received from a merchant in Ironvale. The handle was worn but still sturdy. Bait? She quickly caught a few small insects in the nearby grass with lightning-fast movements, her nimble fingers carefully attaching them to the hook, as if this were a small ritual that could calm her restless soul.

She cast the line into the water. Small ripples spread across the clear surface; the fish immediately swam closer out of curiosity, their fins moving rapidly. Sylvia leaned back, one hand loosely holding the rod, the other resting on the cold stone that absorbed her body heat. The afternoon wind blew gently, softly brushing her face with a cool, soothing yet bittersweet caress. Her red eyes were half-closed, her long black hair fluttering in the breeze, but her mind was never truly at peace.

"So peaceful..." she murmured softly, her voice almost lost beneath the gentle gurgle of the water. "But boring. So boring I feel like screaming."

The rod twitched lightly. A small fish nibbled the bait, but Sylvia didn’t rush to pull. She let the line tighten slightly, then slacken again. Her eyes stared at the shimmering water, but what she saw wasn’t fish she saw shadows of the past. The life-or-death battle in Ironvale. The sudden angelic storm. The sweet pain of her power breaking through its limits. Now it all felt distant. Too distant.

In the distance, the small branches of her favorite treant plop-plop cheerfully from the castle garden, as if calling her home. Noir was probably curled up lazily on its favorite rock, Sofia was training her golden wings on the field with blinding light. Nocture was safe. Her people were happy. But inside Sylvia’s heart, a small flame still burned brightly the desire to fight, to explore, to feel her full strength again without having to think about documents or reports. That flame grew hotter, more painful, because she knew she couldn’t release it.

She drew a deep breath.

The rod twitched harder. A larger fish approached, its shadow dark beneath the clear water. Sylvia smiled thinly, bitter. Maybe this was just a small metaphor for her current life waiting for a bite that would never truly satisfy.

The wind grew stronger, carrying a sharper scent of black roses. Sylvia sat in silence, fishing patiently, enjoying the gentle breeze on her face, but inside her chest the tension kept building. Like a storm ready to explode. Someday, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to hold it back any longer.