Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 7 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Despair Forth from Darkness

A group of horsemen—the imperial army’s only independent unit—raced across the plain on horseback. From their midst rose the flag adorned with two crossed horns on a lilac field: the symbol of the zlosta. Beside it flew another banner, a horned white horse cantering across a similar field of lilac. The same flags rose from the imperial core as they approached the imperial center’s third cohort.

A four-horse carriage trundled at their head. Queen Claudia of Lebering sat in the driver’s seat with a whip in one hand, her amethyst hair streaming in the onrushing wind.

“It hardly seems wise for a man who cannot ride a horse to venture onto a battlefield at all,” she remarked, steering the carriage skilfully as it bucked across the rocky ground.

The masked boy leaned back with his arms thrown over the sides of the carriage, gazing up at the sky. “It was less of a problem when I had a swiftdrake instead.”

“Then why not ride her now? You went to the trouble of recovering her, did you not?”

“Her wounds have healed for the moment, but they’ll reopen if I push her too hard. She needs to rest.” Hiro unfurled a map as he spoke, pinning it in place with a nearby sword in lieu of a clasp, although it still fluttered wildly in the wind. He crossed his arms in consternation.

“What use is a map when we are already on our way to the battle?” Claudia shouted back.

“There’s something I want to make sure of. It’ll be easier to picture with a map to look at.”

Even as they spoke, the map tore free from its bindings, skimming Hiro’s cheek as it flew away and vanished into the distance behind them. Claudia snorted.

Hiro continued amiably, “I see the Knights of the Royal Black have succeeded in burning the enemy supplies.”

Claudia took on a guarded look at the abrupt change in topic. Hiro had a habit of testing her with sudden questions. No situation was too pressing for him to throw her a new enigma to crack.

“Did you treat Lady Celia Estrella this way, may I ask?”

Hiro did not reply, which Claudia took to mean that he had not.

“I must find the opportunity to speak with her once this battle is over. I would love to make her acquaintance.”

She recalled the solemn girl she had found at the strategy meeting. The crimson princess had struck her as being born possessed of purity and sublime composure, both so rare in the imperial line. Her slender body was battle-tested despite its elegance, her features could have rivaled the work of any master sculptor, and her abundant charisma had stoked the flames of even Claudia’s jealousy. Suffice to say, she had made quite a first impression. She would make a most entertaining conversation partner.

Hiro let the silence hang. “If you can find the chance, be my guest,” he said finally.

Claudia giggled. His voice had been inflectionless, but she had seen the glint of human emotion in the eyes behind the mask. A flame lit in her breast. Here, she realized, was the way to make him her own.

That would come to nothing if she made an enemy of him first, however. Judging that she ought to address his question, she looked to the western sky. An answer was not difficult to find. The change that had come over the field was obvious.

“If, as I suspect, that smoke indicates their supplies are burning, the scales of battle are about to tip dramatically.”

“Precisely.”

Hiro recalled that his letter to Liz had been absent from his swiftdrake’s saddlebag. Among other things, it had revealed the survival of the Knights of the Royal Black. Dealt a stinging defeat, they had gone to ground in Faerzen, where they had awaited their chance for revenge.

“Six Kingdoms was too impatient for results. If they’d been more methodical in rooting out survivors, this battle would have gone differently.”

Either that or relocating their supply trains could have avoided the current tragedy. Still, there was no point in entertaining might-have-beens. Reality was what it was—they would have to drink that draught, no matter how bitter it tasted.

“That said, I’m impressed that the Knights of the Royal Black pulled it off. They really do live up to their name.”

The column of smoke rising in the west was testament enough to that. It was material proof that the trap had been sprung and the surviving knights had succeeded in their task.

“And it looks like Aura is making the most of this chance.”

He glanced across at the imperial core, where a profusion of standards had gone up. Small plumes of dust trailed across the center—messengers bound for the commanders of every unit. Aura was readying for an all-out offensive.

“Six Kingdoms’ morale will be damaged, no doubt,” Claudia remarked, “but they will still fight for all they’re worth.”

“Agreed. The next few minutes will decide it all.”

Six Kingdoms had expected to punch through the imperial center with no resistance and were no doubt reeling from their maneuver being anticipated. What would they do next? The only sensible option was to double down. There was no other way but forward. They had already opened a hole in the imperial lines, and now they would fight tooth and nail to push through it and tear out their enemy’s throat.

“I do hope all this scheming doesn’t turn against us. Six Kingdoms still has the momentum, but the cornered rat ever did bite its pursuer. There is nothing so fearsome as prey with its back to the wall.”

“I’m aware. But then again, that’s why we’re here.”

The noose would tighten around Six Kingdoms’ throat, as slowly yet surely as water seeping into wool, and they would never even notice until it broke their neck. That was the outcome Hiro sought, the path to perfect victory.

“To buy time for the circle to close indeed. I should hope to be handsomely rewarded for this.”

Claudia brought the carriage to a halt. They had reached their destination: the vanguard of the third cohort. Ranks upon ranks of stern-faced soldiers stared at the Lebering troops. They did not appear to be surprised—presumably, word had reached their commanders.

“No need to sound so sour about it.” Hiro leaped down from the carriage and turned back up to Claudia, testing the ground beneath his feet. “I’m sure Aura knows. In fact, that’s probably why she gave us such a critical role.”

And if they were to meet those expectations...

“We just have to deal with them.” Hiro gestured toward a churning knot of movement in the rear ranks of the second cohort. At that moment, a host of cavalry burst through, trailing an enormous dust cloud. They fought like demons to plow through the imperial troops, kicking, crushing, forcing their way forward.

Claudia’s brows pulled together in distaste at the sight of the uncanny soldiers. Behind her, the Lebering troops raised their spears and adopted battle stances.

“My,” she whispered, making no effort to hide her disgust. “How utterly hideous.”

“Vendetta, I hear they’re called.” Hiro’s voice was matter-of-fact. “A private force that Six Kingdoms’ old commander put together.”

Claudia listened with interest. “Well, aren’t you knowledgeable... Should I take it that you’ve crossed blades with them before?”

“Sadly not. I’ve only read about them in reports. I can’t say how strong they are...although they’ve gotten this far, so take that as you like.”

What Hiro had heard described them as animalistic warriors who slaughtered anyone of imperial blood without distinction. To let beasts like that loose upon a battlefield took a particularly twisted kind of mind. It was a mystery that they had not yet been disbanded if they were the previous commander’s pet project, but there was no point in mulling over questions like that. Even if any answers had been forthcoming, they would not sway the course of the battle. The enemy stood in his way, so he would cut them down; that was all there was to it.

“We can’t let them pass,” he said to Claudia. “I assume you’re ready.”

“But of course. My men are stouthearted. They will stand firm, no matter what horrors we face.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s send these living dead back to the hell they crawled out of.”

Hiro’s lips twisted with savage glee behind his mask. Claudia took that as a signal to draw her sword. With a fierce look in her eyes, she leveled it at the foe.

“You stand before a lord, and to look down upon him is the utmost arrogance. Let us drag those who would try from their horses.”

With a cold smile, she gestured lightly to the side with her arm—a call to arms born from supreme arrogance. It was far from a stirring blaring of horns, but the Lebering troops’ will to fight exploded even so.

“May Her Majesty’s name ring in Lord Lox’s ears!”

The soldiers drove their heels into their horses’ flanks and surged forward, straight-backed. Their lancepoints gleamed as they caught the sun, casting rays of light across the battlefield. Armor clattered with every hoofbeat. They tucked their lances under their arms and braced for contact with Vendetta.

For a moment, all was still, and then the two forces met. Blood arced high, arms flew, heads toppled from shoulders. Helmets crumpled, torsos caved in, and shredded viscera spilled free. It was carnage. Soldiers gritted their teeth and pierced their enemies’ throats, even as they spewed crimson from their own mouths. The two sides washed each other’s blood away with their own, clove one another’s flesh, shattered one another’s bones, crushed one another’s souls.

“Raaaaaagh!”

Battle cries raised Lebering’s troops above the fear of death, giving them courage to leap into the mouth of hell. They slaughtered their foe with pride in their breasts—all glory to their queen. Yet no matter how fearsome their charge, some of the enemy survived.

“Wreak havoc and do not look back,” Claudia commanded. “I will take care of the rest.” With rapturous glee, she launched toward the members of Vendetta who had escaped the storm of violence. “Dance wild and free. Your queen demands you kneel.”

Snowflakes swirled around her. Her sword swung like a raging blizzard beneath a clear sky.

“I’ll see your hideous faces twisted in agony, your frail hearts broken, and your paltry souls rendered unto me.”

Her bladework defied imagining. Her enemies’ horses availed them naught; all who stood before her were cut in twain. Her soldiers rejoiced to see her peerless bladework, their spirits soaring so high that even the imperial troops shared in their elation. She seemed to have brought the north with her, imposing a breath of boreal cold upon a battlefield made warm with boiling blood.

“Give your despair to me. I will devour it all.”

“Grahhh... GRAAAAAAHHH!”

“You’re slow enough to put me to sleep. And weak enough that I don’t even need to wake.” The masked man cut down the soldiers of Vendetta dispassionately, without even so much as moving from his spot. “You won’t have your revenge like this. You won’t achieve anything at all.”

A single stroke of his sword sent the enemies before him toppling to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. Overwhelming dread clove apart the hatred shrouding the battlefield and asserted its own supremacy.

“RAAAAAAGH!” With a hate-filled roar, the soldiers of Vendetta leaped from their horses. They bore down on Hiro, blades bared.

“Whatever conviction inspired your despair, it wasn’t enough.”

Blades swung for shallow vengeance were as twigs before him. No blood stained his white garb, even as it lay thick upon the glutted earth. He fought atop a bloody pool, radiating incomparable power as he unleashed merciless blows.

“Whatever you’ve lost, whatever was taken from you, whatever was destroyed before your eyes...the emotions it inspired are scattered, not one the same.”

His eyes swiveled down. A fallen soldier lay on the blood-slicked ground, struggling to rise. Hiro regarded the man for a moment with empty eyes before thrusting Dáinsleif into his neck.

“Gaaahhh!” The man sank back into the pool of blood.

Hiro withdrew his black blade from the unfortunate corpse and looked around. “But despair comes equally to all.”

The enemy backed away. He stepped forward and cut one of them down with a single stroke. A plume of blood sprayed from the body. He watched impassively as it rose.

“If you cursed the injustice of the world, you should have seized the heavens and changed it for yourselves.”

He gazed up at the azure heavens as he spoke. It was impossible to discern for whom his words were intended; all traces of his expression were obscured by his mask. He sagged, lord atop a sea of blood in the midst of ceaseless clamor. To an amateur’s eye, he looked defenseless—as frail as a rotted tree, easily knocked over with a single push. Yet the soldiers of Vendetta surrounding him stood as stock-still as if they had been clasped in irons. Several even backed away despite the chance they had been given.

“Agh!”

A grunt burst from one man’s lungs as a spear was thrust through his back. The soldiers of Vendetta had been so preoccupied with Hiro, they had left themselves open to the imperial infantry creeping up behind them.

“Aaahhh... Aaahhh...”

Seeing their comrades fall restored them to their senses. No more were they revenants driven by hatred, only pitiful human beings who did not want to die.

“Hraaagh... GRAAAAAAHHH!”

They fell back, desperate to survive, raising the battle cries of living men.

“That’s why I told you it wasn’t enough.”

They had come as far as the third cohort; to expect to escape unscathed now was beyond foolish. The notion was so ridiculous, Hiro couldn’t even laugh.

“How disappointing.”

They had snarled like beasts and fought like beasts, but they had only been sheep in wolves’ clothing after all.

“Congratulations. You were human to the end. Just humans who resorted to the lowest and most cowardly means you could.”

Dáinsleif traced a perfect arc across a soldier’s throat as he fell back, then clove another’s skull in two, cutting off his faint scream. A third man tried to throw down his weapon, but Hiro skewered him where he stood.

“Ngh... Ahhh...”

“Beg for mercy if you want, but I have none to give.”

He made certain to cut down anybody who tried to surrender before mob psychology could take hold. Many commonfolk had suffered in the name of Vendetta’s twisted idea of vengeance, and many more had died in despair. These men had offered no mercy to those who begged for their lives, shown no hesitation in cutting down women or children, and gleefully fallen upon those who were powerless to resist—and then, when their grim work was done, they had savaged the corpses, gladly playing the part of the villains.

“How could I leave even one of you alive?”

“Agh... Gyaaaaaah!”

Hiro cut the head from one man and tossed it into the midst of the rest as they continued their futile resistance. “There’s nothing more to say. Nothing matters anymore.”

His blade skimmed across the ground and came up to rest on his shoulders. He glared at Vendetta. As one, they halted in their tracks.

“Ah...”

There was no telling from whose throat the whisper had come, but he spoke for them all. Comprehension spread through their ranks: even if the heavens overturned, they could never defeat this man. They began to back away, trembling. Animal instinct dictated that one did not turn one’s back on a predator; to do so was tantamount to throwing one’s life away. They were like thieves who had strayed into a wild beast’s den.

Hiro strode forward, covering twice the distance they had retreated.

“Let’s start high.”

A stunned soldier’s head sprang from his shoulders. Blood sprayed like a fountain.

“Now low.”

Hiro whispered again even before the crimson plume colored the heavens. He picked out his next target and swung his black blade horizontally. The man’s top half parted cleanly from his bottom half.

“Now right.”

His swings were neither fast nor weighty. They were as light as a child swinging a stick and slow enough to see with the naked eye. Yet none of his victims were able to move out of the way. One by one, they slumped to the ground.

“Still not enough. Come on, show me some spine.”

It was a mystery that they even allowed the attacks to land at all. It was as though they did not understand how to defend themselves, could not fathom how to stop his wicked blade.

“Can you fight back hard enough to sate my ambitions?”

Golden light spilled from the right eyehole of his mask, pregnant with chilling battle fervor, keen enough to pierce the world. The full glare of the sun did nothing to diminish its brilliance. Had only the one eye been notable, it could have been dismissed as the Baldick, but his left, too, was unusual, imbued with darkness and steeped in fury as sharp as a honed blade. Their combined gazes seemed enough to penetrate the very soul.

The soldiers of Vendetta stared back with naked fear. The two hues were anathema to one another, and the annals of history made no mention of any human being who had possessed both at once. If such a creature did exist, they could only exceed the realm of mortal comprehension; in short, they must wield power akin to a god. Little wonder that the soldiers froze with terror to witness such a miraculous harmony in the flesh.

“You thought your paltry convictions made you qualified to stand in my way?”

He showed no mercy. Whether or not they moved to defend themselves, his blade struck to kill. Such was only natural. He had no capacity for forgiveness. The slaughter would continue until all his enemies were dead.

“Ahhh... Aaahhh!!!”

Every clash of blades taught a new enemy the difference in their skills. The piercing gaze of his multicolored eyes filled them with a terror that gnawed at their soul.

“Silence.”

He did not even let them succumb to fear. Resistance was futile before a god’s judgment, and that realization broke their spirits. Vendetta’s hatred was sundered in its entirety, their bodies brutalized without mercy. For so long, they had existed as patchwork creations of stilled tongues and despairing smiles. They had maintained their hearts’ equilibrium through hatred alone, but now that balance had fully tipped.

“Dear me. Whatever happened to your hatred of the empire?” Claudia watched in contempt as the men of Vendetta threw down their weapons and fled in confusion. “What a disappointing final act.”

She let her sword fall, no longer caring to fight. Her eyes followed them coldly as they ran, bearing a look one might reserve for roadside refuse. A thought seemed to strike her, and she cocked her head.

“But is a lord’s wrath truly so easy to escape?”

She turned to the black-haired boy to whom her words were directed. His right eye radiated august splendor beyond mortal ken. His left eye burned with fury as it followed the fleeing soldiers of Vendetta. An uncanny smile spread beneath his mask as he raised a hand to the sky.

“What do you know of despair?”

The heavens swirled at his words. The earth shuddered and groaned, as though crying out in pain. A vast torrent of power burst forth, striking dumb friend and foe alike.

“Weep for spirits broken. Shed tears for hope lost. Wear with pride futures undone.”

The ground cratered beneath his feet. Space ruptured under the unbearable weight. Awe consumed all, and despair spread across the field.

“Dáinsleif, their dismay is yours to devour.”

All sound vanished from the world, as though the very concept of it had never existed at all. Silence fell like rain upon the battlefield.

“I am Surtr, the Black-Winged Lord.”

His presence swelled, and an inexplicable weight settled over the world around him. There was no escaping the tyranny of the silence he brought. As all who watched began to quake in fear, he raised Dáinsleif and held it flat, choosing his prey.

“He who beckons all lives equally to nothingness.”

He unleashed Muspell—Mortal Terror. Time stood still but for a thumping heartbeat that resounded across the field. All who lived relinquished their place in time’s flow. Friends, foes, beasts, insects, flora—all froze where they stood.

“Now, dance for me upon death’s stage.” Hiro pressed a hand to his mask as he spoke, like a god of death pronouncing judgment upon the condemned.

Thence came Schwartzwald—Deathly Stillness.

A pitch-black maw descended from above, falling shut upon the world like a deluge of curses.

＊＊＊＊＊

Liz gasped and spun around as a chill ran up her spine. A pitch-black dragon had descended from the heavens, billowing with a baleful aura like black smoke. She was not the only one to notice. The nearby soldiers let their weapons fall and stared at the otherworldly spectacle. Wickedness given form shrouded the sky, terrifying to behold. The charge in the air crackled across their skin.

“This presence!”

Liz narrowed her eyes, sensing something strange about the sight, but before she could identify it, hostility flared closer at hand. She swung Lævateinn up to guard herself. An instant later, an impact rang through her body, so fierce that the earth bowed beneath her feet.

“You must be awfully confident in yourself not to give me your full attention.” An unctuous voice slipped through the crossing point of crimson blade and warhammer, devoid of inflection, devoid of life.

Distracted from discerning the nature of the darkness, Liz turned to Luka with fury in her eyes. Her opponent gazed back through clouded irises.

“Does it really fascinate you so?” With a glance at the sky herself, Luka pressed down with her warhammer, seeking to crush Liz to pulp.

Liz braced her legs and pushed back. “A mysterious power like that? Anyone would wonder what it was.”

“Mysterious, you say? Do you truly not recognize it?”

Luka’s answer was curious, but with their weapons pressing against each other, perhaps she was simply trying to distract Liz from plotting her next move. As much as she wanted to know, Liz maintained her composure.

“Not at all. That’s why I was so interested.” Flames erupted from her blade, mirroring the anger beginning to seep into her voice.

Luka scowled and leaped away, putting some distance between them. She glanced at her charred left sleeve and snorted in annoyance. “What a nuisance those flames are. As persistent as a snake.”

Liz took the opportunity to look back up, but the sky was as clear as it had ever been. The ominous presence she had felt was already fading. Its lingering traces were just about strong enough to determine where it had gone, but not to whom it belonged.

“Now that your worries have resolved themselves, would you be so kind as to die?” Luka forced her mouth into a bright smile. Needless to say, it did not reach her eyes.

Liz forced the turmoil bubbling in her chest back down and began to inch forward, moving with sliding steps that hid her approach from Luka. “I’m not going to die today.”

She steadily closed the distance, alert to the slightest sign that Luka had noticed, but her enemy continued to stare blankly at nothing.

“I do so hate that baseless confidence of yours. And that pretty face too. You don’t know the meaning of suffering.” With lightless eyes and an unbroken smile, Luka gave voice to her barren heart.

“Maybe not compared to you.” Liz had to concede that much. She was well aware that she had been blessed. Her life had been a series of tragedies since the day she was born, but she had stood firm because other people had been willing to lend her their hands.

“How surprising that you’re willing to admit it. I had not expected the sixth princess of the empire to be quite so frank about her flaws.”

“My sister always said I was too quick to speak the truth, but I think that’s a good thing, don’t you?”

What Liz did not yet realize was that her pureness of heart had developed into its own kind of charm. If anything, her frankness had made it more difficult for her to attract allies. Scheming to undermine others was hardly unusual in the world she inhabited; letting her uglier, more human side show would have earned her more supporters, and had she cared to learn the art of manipulation, she could have cemented her position with no need for Hiro’s help. Naturally, she felt as much jealousy, anger, and hatred as any other girl her age, but that was child’s play compared to the villainy of adults. She had no place among the intrigue, scheming, and conspiracy that plagued the shadows of the royal court.

“What a pure soul you are,” Luka crooned. “As unblemished as a newborn babe. A light noble and virtuous, too bright and beautiful to admit any sin.”

Fury poured forth from her. The air began to constrict with her hostility.

“Ha ha... Ha ha ha...” Her shoulders shook as her throat rattled with laughter. “Aha ha... No.”

For the first time since their meeting, Liz saw her expression change. Her face twisted into something so wicked that it could not even be called human. She seemed on the point of crying with rage.

“No, no, no!” The howl was loud enough to split her throat. Her malevolent strength rent the earth asunder. “I will not suffer you to exist!”

She surged toward Liz, sending a plume of dirt flying up behind her.

Liz had been biding her time, waiting for her chance. Gauging the distance between them, she stepped forward and thrust Lævateinn out. The crimson blade traced a perfect line through empty space as it bore down on Luka. Just as it came within reach of the tip of her nose, she jerked her head to the side. The force of the thrust sliced her cheek open as it gouged a chunk out of the air, but she was otherwise unharmed.

Liz grunted in frustration. She shifted her weight onto her left leg, moved her right back, and twisted her torso to retract her arm.

“Did you think I didn’t realize that you were plotting something?” Luka sneered as she unleashed a mighty blow.

Liz managed to catch the strike with Lævateinn, but the warhammer lifted her feet from the ground, sending her sailing through the air.

“My turn, I think.”

A tempest swirled. The warhammer bore down on Liz, tearing the earth apart as it came. Luka’s strength was remarkable on its own—she wielded it one-handed, swinging it around like a toy—but it was the unpredictable nature of her attacks that truly sent a shiver up Liz’s spine. What seemed to be a swing from above turned into a bone-crunching swipe from the right at the last moment. Even as Liz fended off the warhammer’s odd motions, however, she saw her chance to put a stop to its momentum.

“Yah!”

She braced her left fist against the flat of Lævateinn’s blade, turning it into a shield. As the blow struck, she withdrew her hand with impeccable timing, letting the hammer’s head slide past her. The weighty swing left Luka wide open—an opportunity into which Liz drove the full force of her right foot. Luka used the fact that she was leaning forward to take the kick head-on, and with a twist of her right wrist sent her warhammer rocketing up toward her opponent.

“I’ll paint the ground with your innards!”

Recognizing that she was too off-balance to dodge, Liz flung herself toward the warhammer. Luka frowned, taking the move as an act of resignation, but Liz thrust Lævateinn forward, striking its tip against the hammer’s head. Sparks flew as metal grated against metal.

Luka’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? A test of strength?”

“Go ahead, but I’m not playing!”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Liz released her hands from Lævateinn’s hilt. With the equilibrium broken, the crimson blade shot up into the sky. Genuine surprise flickered in Luka’s eyes as she watched the Flame Sovereign arc high, but her wonder did not last for long. As Liz fell to the ground, she pivoted on her right arm and kicked Luka’s leg out from under her.

“Wha—”

Luka lost her balance and toppled. As she fell, Liz righted herself and landed a fierce kick in her abdomen.

“Oof!”

Luka bounced across the ground as though tumbling down a cliff, forming a gust of wind that streaked across the blood-soured battlefield. She sprayed up dirt and soil as she tumbled, eventually vanishing into a cloud of dust.

As Liz watched the woman go, she glanced upward and raised her hand. “Welcome back,” she said. Lævateinn landed perfectly in her grasp, glowing with indignant flame.

She returned her attention to her enemy, who still had not emerged from the billowing haze. As she gazed into the dust, she steadied her breathing and listened to the world around her. Most of Vendetta had been slain by now, she could tell. The skirmish was coming to an end. Despite the force of the enemy’s boiling hatred, the Knights of the Rose had held their ground.

“It’s almost over.”

Perhaps it was because she was fighting a formidable foe, or perhaps her connection to Lævateinn had grown stronger, but her senses felt sharp enough to grasp the flow of battle. The rhythms of the field had thoroughly changed. The enemy unit pressing in toward the imperial core had been stopped dead, and while a great rent still remained in the imperial center, it was now less of a hole than a pitfall trap, locking Six Kingdoms’ forces in place. The imperial reinforcements were now sweeping in from behind to surround them.

“All that’s left are the flanks.”

A glance to the sides revealed the telltale clouds of two fierce battles being waged in the distance. Their fight was still continuing. The noise of battle nearby was far too loud to hear, but no doubt bodies were piling up just as high there as here, and blood was flowing just as freely. To end it as quickly as possible...

“It looks like I have to take care of you.”

Liz looked back at the figure who was now steadily approaching. The left side of the woman’s body was covered in dreadful scars, and her left sleeve flapped in the wind as if to assert its emptiness. More than that, however, it was the expression on her face that drew Liz’s attention.

“Igel... Igel... Lend your dear sister your strength...” Eyes wandering vacantly, like a lost child searching for her mother, she crouched down before the half-rotted skull and brushed the dust from it, muttering under her breath, “Forgive me, Igel. Forgive me. You need only wait awhile. This will all be over soon; I promise.”

She stroked the skull feverishly, her smile as compassionate as a Madonna’s, her eyes as dead as a devil’s. Scraps of dried flesh fell loose with every touch.

“Are you cold? Worry not. You will not have to bear it for long.”

It was not uncommon for those who spent too long on the battlefield to develop mental peculiarities. The specifics varied from person to person, but this was the first time Liz had seen anybody as tragically broken as Luka. She tried to probe the depths of the woman’s hatred. What drove her to keep fighting? Was she fueled by revenge? Was she seeking a worthy death? Or was she perhaps looking for a reason to live? Several possibilities came to mind, but Liz felt certain that all of them were wrong.

“Once I eradicate the blood of von Grantz, your heart can rest.” Luka stroked the skull one last time before reluctantly standing and turning to Liz. “Now, would it be too much to ask you to die for Igel?”

“You have nothing left, do you?”

Belatedly, Liz realized that Luka had always been broken. Her heart was a barren wasteland. Whoever this Igel was, now that he was gone, she had reverted to who she really was. It was impossible to say when, where, or why she had become this way, but it was her true self.

“You’ve lost your home. Now you’re just wandering with no place to go back to.”

She had been a living shade from the beginning, existing in a world in which she saw no hope, and yet even when she had succumbed to despair and prayed for death, circumstances had conspired to keep her alive. It was an inversion of Liz’s fortunes, or perhaps misfortunes. Liz had been born cursed but saved by the charity of others. Luka had been born blessed, yet suffered at the hands of others’ cruelty. And both had clung to life until this moment, whether they had wanted to or not.

“Are you quite done trying to rifle through my brain?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I feel like I understand you a little better now.”

“And what use is that understanding? We two will never see eye to eye.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Liz sounded almost regretful.

“Then the least we can do is fight to the death, don’t you think?” Luka’s smile spread so wide it threatened to split her lips. The wind snatched away the strings of spittle stretching inside her mouth. “Give me your head—just like Igel did!”

She braced her feet against the ground and leaped high into the air. Her warhammer plummeted from the sky with a harsh whistle. As Liz dodged to the side, the impact blasted a crater into the ground behind her, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Luka burst free from the haze, already following up with a second attack.

“Die! Die, die, die, die, die!”

Liz grunted as she took the blow with the flat of Lævateinn’s blade, but that wasn’t enough to allay its momentum. The impact crushed her into the ground.

“Gah!”

“I’ll flay that pretty hide and give it to Igel!”

The warhammer swung down with enough force to pulverize Liz’s bones, never mind her skin. Liz struck the ground with her fist, spraying up dirt. Blinded, Luka’s swing went wide, striking deep into the ground. She scowled and readied her warhammer for a second blow, but Liz was no longer there.

“I won’t lose here!” came a voice from behind her.

Luka ducked out of the way, leaning over so far that her entire body was horizontal. As Lævateinn swung over her head, her right foot kicked up in a counterattack. Liz focused her strength in her legs, standing firm as she bent over backward. No sooner had Luka’s foot whistled past the tip of her nose than she saw the warhammer swinging in from the right.

“Hah!”

She didn’t bother to straighten herself. Instead, she gritted her teeth, twisted around, and met the attack head-on with Lævateinn. The two weapons clashed, then bounced forcefully apart.

The wielders righted themselves and charged back into the fray, intent on taking one another’s lives. Once they clashed, twice, thrice, each trying to batter the other down with their full strength. They lashed out to sweep each other’s legs, resorted to fists when that failed, followed up with a kick to their opponent’s torso. Liz swung with every ounce of power she possessed, but Luka almost seemed to read her attacks, evading with lithe movements and striking back without hesitation. Their battle was a tug of war between adaptability and speed.

The air groaned as it swirled about them, slicing like a storm of blades. Cuts appeared on their cheeks and soon began to burn, but the irritation went unheeded amid the clashing of their wills. They fought with all they had until their bodies were exhausted, their minds spent, and one of their souls shattered—and, at last, the scales began to tip.

“Curse you... Curse you!”

Luka tilted her mouth to the sky, gulping down oxygen. Liz saw her chance. Lævateinn’s point raced toward her foe.

Luka snorted. “Can’t you tell a ruse when you see one?”

Liz grinned. “You tell me.”

Blade’s edge met hammer’s face. As the weapons bounced apart, Liz swung Lævateinn back up one-handed. The warhammer came down from above, but she dodged out of the way with a sideways step. Its force still knocked her strike astray, and her crimson blade cut only empty air, but there was no time for regrets. Luka’s hammer was embedded in the earth. This was her chance, and she did not intend to waste it.

“Take this!”

She breathed out and stepped forward, and then—

“Too slow.”

“Wha— Oof!”

There was no warning. No indication that anything was amiss. One second, she was standing, the next, a pulverizing impact blasted through her. A sickening crunch rang through her body, as though all her bones had broken at once. She steadied her feet, desperate to stay standing, but the effort only sent a gout of blood bursting from her clenched teeth. As it splattered on the ground, she fell to one knee, clutching her right side.

“What... What happened?”

She looked up, her face twisted in agony. Above her, Luka stared down with empty eyes.

“Ah, yes. I suppose I forgot to mention...” Luka stroked the handle of her warhammer lovingly. There was not a shred of apology in her face. “I wield one of the Noble Blades—the Dharmic Blade Vajra.”

Liz stood up with a groan. She had guessed that Luka was more than just an ordinary human, but that, she had not expected. Even so, in spite of knowing that she had the stronger arm, she had taken care not to be reckless, or let her feelings cloud her judgment, or allow her foe the slightest opening.

“Ah...”

She opened her mouth to ask the question, but instead of words came a gout of blood.

“Let me guess. You must be at a loss as to what just happened” Luka glanced briefly at her warhammer before returning her attention to Liz. “Vajra’s Graal is named Vajradhara, and its nature is Purging. There are some nuances to its use, but suffice to say it feeds on my strength to slow my opponents’ movements.”

“Are you saying you tricked me?”

“Precisely. By the time your dulled senses perceived Vajra lodged in the ground, it was already gone.”

“All right, then... Why are you telling me this?”

Liz had not yet yielded. If the battle was going to continue, telling her the nature of Vajra’s Graal seemed like a grave misstep.

“You have already been duly purged. It only seems fair. Besides, the knowledge will not help you.” Luka set an amused hand on her chin and cocked her head. “I can only wonder why it had no effect on him, but it seems to work on you well enough.”

Liz began to tremble. She could already guess who Luka was referring to.

Luka voiced a wordless cry of joy to see her opponent so pained. “Shall I tell you who I mean?”

Liz knew she should not listen. Nothing good could come of it. Yet her body refused to let her turn away; her brain blocked the signals, desperate to hear Luka’s answer.

“Shall I tell you who it was that knelt pathetically in the dirt, waiting for my blade to take his head?”

Luka’s voice took on an oratorical tone as she spoke, relishing Liz’s dread. Nothing seemed to amuse her more than watching her enemy struggle to deny the cruelty of the world before succumbing to despair. As likely as not, she had revealed her Graal purely so that she could enjoy this exchange.

“Who?” Liz whispered. She didn’t want to hear it, had no intention of believing it, but her heart spoke before her mind. The noise of the battle faded away as she waited to hear his name.

“It was Hiro Schwartz von Grantz.”

“Ah...”

Even after the words took on form and sound, they still didn’t seem real. As she berated herself for even asking in the first place, her vision blurred. Bitter sadness welled up from the depths of her heart. Dark emotions flooded her chest. Black despair poured forth, feeding on her hope to keep living. A single tear trickled down her cheek—

“Oh, no. You mustn’t break just yet.”

“Agh!”

One moment of distraction was enough. Luka saw the opening and pounced, slamming Liz into the dirt. As Liz gasped for a breath that would not come, Luka brought a crushing heel down on her stomach. Her body bent in the middle, and blood sprayed from her mouth. Yet the pain in her abdomen was nothing when her heart felt about to burst. A wail slipped from her lips.

“Fear not. Soon I shall send you to the same place he resides. Then neither of you shall be alone.”

“Guh!”

A vicious kick to the ribs sent Liz flying, but even as she skimmed the ground, Luka was faster. The woman caught up with astonishing speed and swung her warhammer down with tremendous force.

“Farewell, fortunate princess. I hope you learned something of true pain before the end.”

Through bleary eyes, Liz saw Vajra descend, intent on smashing her body to pieces. The warhammer seemed terribly slow. Memories played back over and over in her head, like her life was flashing before her eyes. Confused emotions swirled within and battered her chest as she struggled to decide which of them was true. And through the storm, through the visions repeating over and over again, through the feelings tearing apart and remaking her heart...she saw him.

The boy whom she had so pursued, whom she had so admired, whom she had so adored. She saw his back.

“No. No more running away.”

She had cried enough tears.

She had nursed enough doubts.

She had shouldered enough regrets.

She had made enough excuses.

No more would she repeat the same mistakes.

“That’s right. I don’t need his help anymore.”

All at once, a vivid scene seared itself into the back of her mind. Her senses flooded with renewed clarity. Luka’s warhammer was approaching, bearing down on her. She righted herself in midair and, as soon as her feet touched the ground, unleashed a fist. A mighty noise resounded across the battlefield, the harsh clang of metal.

Anybody would have expected to see Liz’s arm shatter. Instead, she stood firm, fist extended but unharmed. It was Luka who reeled back, pulled off-balance as her warhammer sailed backward. Shock spread across her face as she processed that Liz had repelled Vajra barehanded.

“I promised I was going to hit him,” Liz said. “Hard.”

She had been on the point of reaching out to him for help again, and for what? Because her resolve had faltered? How strong had it ever been? How many times had she told herself that she couldn’t rely on him to fight all of her battles? She had been too weak, too dependent, and because of it she had almost given up on walking on her own two feet.

“I’m not some little girl anymore!” she cried, as much to herself as to anybody else. She sprang forward furiously, her sword bearing down on Luka.

Luka, however, was just as fast. Even as Lævateinn reached the end of its arc, her warhammer was already there.

“That stomach wound really must hurt,” she crooned. “You’ve grown so very slow.”

“Keep talking!”

Their weapons locked together as they clashed head-on, leaving them pushing against one another.

“I almost forgot to mention—it was I who killed your dear fourth prince. Oh, how you must despise me. Do you not just wish you could carve my head from my body?”

“Shut up!”

“Ngh!” Luka’s attention was so focused on Lævateinn’s crimson blade, she didn’t even see Liz’s fist until it crashed into her cheek. The impact was so forceful that it cracked the earth at her feet. Even so, she did not fall. As she halted, lopsided, her clouded eyes swiveled in their sockets to glare back at Liz.

“I still believe in him,” Liz said.

An unwavering will blazed in her eyes, and Lævateinn roared in answer. Crimson flames poured forth into the world, radiating azure light. Liz stepped forward, and an inferno sprang from beneath her feet, a pillar of flame rising toward the heavens.

“But I’ve decided I’m done with doubting myself.”

Flames of clear blue wreathed her, an azure inferno that swirled about her like a pair of wings.

“I’m done with questioning myself.”

Holding Lævateinn in a reverse grip, she raised the Spiritblade until it was level with her eyes. She ran her other hand along its length. Blue flames issued forth, spiraling about her as though to encircle the world.

“So I’m not going to hold back.”

A vow to become stronger burned in her chest, as fervent and true as the day she had first made it.

Her flames were Sheol.

Her flames were Inferno.

Her flames were Purgatorium.

“Bloom in splendor, Lævateinn.”

Myriad Blossoms—Ragnarök.

Lævateinn vanished from Liz’s hand. All at once, the world was azure and crimson. The transformation extended to her too. Blue flames coiled around her body, healing her injuries in an instant.

“Now we can begin.” Her voice was soft and sweet. It bore none of its former bravery, or its former defiance, or its former dignity. Its tones were smooth and sultry, and their touch paralyzed the mind.

“What... Who...?”

Luka stared in shock, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She lowered her gaze to Vajra. As she did, something else caught her eye.

“Igel?”

The skull she called her brother was wreathed in flame.

“Igel!”

She dived toward it, but dazed as she was, she was too slow. Her hand plunged into the fire without a moment’s hesitation, but the skull had already been reduced to ash.

“Ah... Ah... Aaaaaahhh!”

She tried to scrape together the remains, but her hands closed around empty air. Her plaintive wails trailed away unheard. Crimson flame devoured all, leaving her to beat her fists impotently against the ground as she gazed up at a scorched sky.

“Why? Why, why, why? Why?!” Luka leveled her gaze at Liz again, her eyes filled with pure rage. She sprinted toward her enemy. “Why must you stand in our way?!”

Liz wordlessly gestured with her right hand. The coiling flames converged in front of her like a shield.

“Aaaaaaaaaggghhh!”

Roaring like a feral beast, Luka unleashed a volley of tremendous blows, but it was meaningless. Her efforts were futile. The flame clung to Liz like a living being, shielding her from harm.

Luka only struck harder. “What did I ever do wrong?!” she cried. “Dare to wish for happiness?! Was that such a grave crime that this must be my punishment?! All I ever wanted was to live in peace with my brother! That would have been enough!”

Liz gazed back at the warhammer through the flames, smiling sadly. “I don’t know the answer.” She gestured toward Vajra. The blue flames followed her command, coiling around its head. In a moment, the handle, too, was sheathed in flame.

“Curse you!” Luka grimaced and relinquished the weapon, unable to bear the searing heat.

“But I promise I’ll find it someday.”

The flames coiling around her began to grow. Slowly, they took the form of a blue and crimson lion. The beast stood taller than a sizable monster, and its tail trailed through the air like a snake. Liquid fire dripped from its jaws, its burning paws gouging furrows into the earth.

“What... What sorcery...?” Overcome by the lion’s awe-inspiring presence, Luka fell to her knees in defeat. “Why is it...that nobody ever comes to save me?”

Liz raised her hand high. With a roar, the lion surged toward Luka. The woman could only watch as her doom approached, her last drop of strength expended.

“Igel...forgive me...” Something flickered in her eyes, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. “You will not be avenged after all...”

Her sorrowful voice, ever so small, vanished into hellfire and burned away with her tears. Flames surged outward, covering the field where she had been. The ground rocked. Even the black smoke in the sky blew away. The fires of Gehenna raged across the field, burning everything in their path to ashes.

At last, the flames’ momentum ebbed. They burned out and faded away, leaving behind only pockets of smoldering earth. Liz stared expressionlessly at the ground before her. There lay Luka. In the end, she had not been able to kill her. Letting her live was naive, Liz knew. Still, she could not bring herself to do otherwise. She had sworn not to doubt herself anymore. She would follow her heart, even if it led her astray, and this was the first step on the way.

It was uncertain what could be done for Luka, but she recognized that sparing the woman’s life came with some measure of responsibility.

“First, you must atone for your crimes,” she whispered, “but after that... After that, we’ll find you a reason to live. Together.”

“So that’s the path you’ve chosen,” said a voice. Applause echoed through the enclosed world. Liz had used Lævateinn to seal off their battlefield with a wall of flame, but apparently it had not been sufficient. She spun around, eyes flashing.

A man stood nonchalantly nearby. He was clothed all in white, a strange mask on his face and an ominous black blade hanging from his belt. “A path even the first emperor did not take, or the second, or any other since. But you might just do it justice.” He stepped closer, a pleased lilt to his voice, stopping before Liz as he glanced down at Luka. “So I would ask that you give her to me—”

He looked back at Liz, and the words died in his throat as he saw the grin on her face.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Why do you always act like you know everything?! Why do you always speak like you’ve got all the answers?!”

A stunning blow struck him in the face. Before he knew it, he was on his back, looking up at the sky. Before he could register the pain or even process what had happened, an impact ran through his abdomen. The cause was clear: Liz was straddling him.

“Who do you think you’re helping with these stupid games?! You’re not going to make anyone happy!” She grabbed Hiro by the lapels and yanked his torso upright. “You’re just doing it for you! That’s all!”

His brain was rattling so fiercely that he could hardly think. He couldn’t have answered if he’d tried.

“Why do you have to try and solve everything on your own?!”

The sight of the anger beading in the corners of her eyes stole the words from his mouth.

“Why won’t you just ask someone for help?!”

She flung him back against the ground. Watching her fight back tears as she vented her emotions, Hiro remembered what Artheus had said.

“I guess you were right.”

Perhaps Artheus really did have him dead to rights. Everything Hiro had done had been selfishness, nothing more. It certainly hadn’t done Liz any good, only made her despise him.

He reached up toward her face. “I’m sorry, Liz. I never meant to hurt you—”

“Shut up! That’s not for you to decide!”

She smacked his hand away and followed up with a vicious headbutt. He couldn’t even groan. The sight of her tears made everything numb.

“I’m not smart enough for fancy words, so you’ll have to speak plain!” She grabbed his shirt with trembling hands and buried her face in his neck. “Just tell me...”

“What are you...?”

“Am I really that weak?”

Her voice cracked. Tears soaked his collarbone.

“Am I really so weak that you can’t even turn to me for help?”

As he struggled for something to say, she began to sob.

“I’ll get stronger. I promise, I’ll get stronger...” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close with feeble strength. “Strong enough that I won’t lose to anyone.” As she pulled away, face scrunched up to force back the tears, a fierce light glimmered in her eyes. “Strong enough to carry your burdens, so please...”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. They spattered on Hiro’s face like rain, filled with gentle warmth.

“So please, wait for me.” She cupped his cheek with a tender hand. “Soon enough, I’ll come and find you, and I’ll snatch everything you’re carrying right off your back.”

Her voice sounded clear as a bell as she stroked his cheek apologetically. The pain and heat gradually faded away.

“Until I get there, do whatever you have to do. But if it’s ever too much, if you ever think you can’t take it...you come right on back to me, do you understand?” Through ugly teardrops and wracking sobs, she grinned. “Even if the world gives up on you, I’ll be with you to the end.”

She wiped her eyes bashfully. Her grin became a tender smile.

“And if you still don’t get it, then just remember this...” The weight vanished from his abdomen as she stood up. “I’ll overtake you someday, and that’s a promise.”

Her words floated down from above, full of tender emotion.

“So just sit tight and watch me.”

Sensing her leave, Hiro gave a low sigh. His shoulders trembled as he covered his face with his hands. Her words had struck home. This was a final parting—perhaps. A tenuous connection still remained.

If she had cursed him, he could not have blamed her. If she had expressed her hatred through her fists, he would have had no right to fight back. He would have deserved it. Yet she had chosen forgiveness, promising him that he still had a place to belong.

Joy welled up within his chest. Unrestrained delight filled his heart. No more was she chasing his shadow. She was looking past him now, and her feet were strong enough to take her there.

I really couldn’t be happier.

He was like a selfish child next to her. While he remained where he had halted one thousand years ago, she had begun to move forward. She had grown strong, he thought. She truly had his respect.

I suppose I’d better set out too.

Soon, he hoped, he would stand before her again—not as a goal, but as an obstacle to be overcome. The thought filled his chest with pride.

You’ll overtake me, you said. Well, I’ll be waiting.

Hiro picked the mask up from the ground and set it back over his face.