Chapter 36 - Shatterpoint

Subaru stepped toward the mouth of the cave, drawing in what he hoped would be a cleansing breath, only to find the putrid stench had already burrowed deep into his sinuses, coating the back of his throat like a film. He swallowed hard against the taste. Horrors, unfortunately well within his level of comprehension, were not what he'd signed up for today, and he'd certainly gotten his eyeful.

He glanced sideways, squinting at the vague, shadowy outline of his companion as they picked their way toward the fading light. Rem moved with her usual measured grace, walking through the cave without so much as a hitch in her stride. She looked completely undisturbed.

Subaru would readily admit she was gorgeous, seriously, just look at those... okay, he was getting off-topic. But beneath that cute exterior, he was starting to wonder if she might be a sociopath, or whatever the proper term was for someone fundamentally lacking in the whole empathy department.

Regardless, with the local cult problem thoroughly annihilated, courtesy of whatever monster had decided to drop by, maybe he could convince Rem to just call it a day. Mission accomplished and all that. Let their enigmatic clown lord deal with whatever strange nonsense lurked out here in the woods.

He'd much rather be used as an obstacle course by Arlam's children than spend another minute in this place.

Emerging from the cave's suffocating darkness into the fading amber wash of evening sun, Subaru's eyes struggled to adjust. He raised a hand to shield against the glare, blinking away the spots dancing across his vision, and froze.

They weren't alone.

Subaru hadn't spent much time in forests, either back on Earth or here in this world, but he was a very quick learner. And one lesson he'd picked up immediately was recognizing the distinctive crimson glow of wolgarm eyes in the underbrush. You either learned that fast, or you became a chew toy.

So it was with this hard-won "expertise" that Subaru now stood rooted to the spot, staring into the dense treeline surrounding the clearing.

"Rem." His voice came out barely above a whisper. He didn't dare move. "Tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing."

'Please. Please let this be dehydration.' He hadn't had water in hours, maybe his brain was just frying itself, conjuring up phantom threats. Any excuse to avoid what his eyes were telling him.

Just beyond the clearing's edge, peering out from the deepening shadows of the forest, was a single pair of glowing red eyes.

Then another materialized beside it. And another.

Within seconds, the entire perimeter erupted with crimson pinpricks, dozens, then hundreds of pairs, all fixed on them. The forest had come alive, transformed into a wall of gleaming eyes that stretched as far as he could see in either direction.

As Subaru gave his best impression of a thousand-yard stare, a small, punched-out gasp cut through the silence beside him.

The sound snapped him back. He whipped around to find Rem swaying on her feet, one hand flying to her temple, fingers pressed tight against her skull. Her knees buckled.

"Rem?!"

Subaru lunged forward, catching her by the shoulders before she could collapse. His fingers dug into the fabric of her uniform as he steadied her weight against him. "C'mon, now is not the time to get lightheaded—"

She shook her head rapidly, the movement sharp and jerky. Her azure hair swung aside, and he caught a rare glimpse of her two bright blue eyes. They stared up at him, wide, unfocused, and shocked.

"My sister..." The words came out barely audible, threaded with a tremor he'd never heard from her before. "I... I just felt her. Through our connection." Her breath hitched. "She was caught off guard. Something terrible is happening in Costuul."

Subaru's mind stuttered, then kicked into overdrive. First, the twins were apparently telepathic? He filed that away under 'things to freak out about later.' Second, what did this mean for their current scenario?

It was awful that something was going down in the city, sure, but they were stuck all the way out here, surrounded by an army of mabeasts that would love nothing more than to tear them limb from limb.

"Your sister is strong, Rem." He forced his voice to stay level, projecting a confidence he absolutely did not feel. His grip on her shoulders tightened. "If I learned anything in my week around her... it's that she knows how to handle herself."

Yeah. Ram definitely knew how to handle herself, mainly by loading every possible task onto him while she lounged in the background offering snide commentary about jobs "poorly done" or how she "could have done it far better." And yet there she'd always be, materialized in the corner of whatever room he was working in, feet kicked up on a chair she'd summoned from nowhere, doing absolutely nothing.

Whatever. Lazy as Ram was, he had faith she could handle herself.

...Probably.

He released one of Rem's shoulders to gesture weakly at the wall of unblinking crimson eyes surrounding them. "But before we can think about saving Big Sister... we've got some pretty immediate problems."

The words seemed to anchor her. The trembling in Rem's frame stilled. She drew in a single breath. When her eyes opened again, the panic was still there, buried deep beneath the surface, but it had been smothered under a sudden, freezing calm.

"...You're right." Her voice dropped low. "Sister is strong."

She straightened fully, pulling away from his grip. Her spine went rigid, shoulders squaring as she turned her attention to the clearing before them. 

"This is far from natural." The edge returned to her voice, as if none of that had just happened. "Lord Roswaal keeps the hordes culled. There shouldn't even be this many wolgarms in the entire region."

A grim assessment that raised another question in Subaru's mind.

"How intelligent are these things?" He studied the glowing eyes surrounding them, trying to find any break in the perimeter. "All the dogs that attacked us in the forest were out for blood instantly, but these ones are just... watching us."

And watch they did. The demon dogs sat perfectly motionless in the shadows, red eyes fixed and unblinking. It made Subaru think of a scripted ambush in a video game, the kind where you can see the trap coming from a mile away, but the enemies just wait there until you trigger the event.

And unfortunately, just like those scripted fights, Subaru didn't see a way out. The monsters had them perfectly encircled. No gaps. No escape routes.

The sharp rattle of chains beside him shattered his spiraling thoughts.

Rem's morningstar was already in hand, the spiked sphere swaying as she rolled her shoulders. Her jaw was set, eyes cold as she surveyed the tree line like she was about to charge head first into it all.

"Uh, Rem-rin?" Subaru held up both hands. "I really don't think we're going to be able to fight our way outta this one."

She was strong, he'd seen that firsthand, but against this many?

"I'll clear a path through for you, then draw them away while you escape." Her voice carried that frigid determination that meant she'd already made up her mind. "I'm far faster and stronger than you. I can—"

"Okay, one, that slightly hurts my manly pride," Subaru interjected, jabbing a finger toward her. "And two, I seriously don't think—"

A new voice rang out across the clearing, cutting through whatever half-baked argument he'd been building. It was high-pitched and youthful, clearly belonging to a young girl.

Some strange niggling feeling in his mind whispered that she certainly had to be close to Petra's age… he wasn't sure where that intuition came from.

"Blah, blah, bl~ah! Yeesh, some people really do talk too mu~ch!" The voice carried an almost playful exasperation. "Can you just get out here al~ready?!"

Stepping into the clearing with confident, unhurried strides was a girl near Petra's age, just as Subaru had somehow... known.

Odd.

She was undeniably cute, with smooth pale skin and olive green eyes that seemed to shimmer with something almost mystical in the fading light. Long dark blue hair flowed behind her in a neat ponytail, swaying with each step.

Subaru had no doubt that in a few years she'd grow up to be quite the beauty. But at her current age and height, she radiated pure mischief, the kind of kid who'd probably convinced half her village to help her pull off elaborate pranks.

Then his gaze dropped to her outfit, and his guard snapped back up like a steel trap.

The dark clothing. The long purple cloak that billowed behind her.

His gut and arm suddenly ached, a phantom throb right where that lunatic Elsa had carved into him what felt like ages ago. The memory of her blade slicing through flesh hit him with unexpected vividness: the cold shock, the wet heat of blood, that horrible wrongness of having your body opened up.

"Uh oh, did I stun you two into si~lence?" The girl cocked her head, blinking with feigned surprise as she tapped a finger against her chin. "You went from talking a whole lot to saying nothing at a~ll!"

Subaru wasn't quite sure what to make of this bizarre predicament, so he shot a quick glance at Rem to gauge her reaction.

Her face had twisted into a snarl of pure, visceral hatred, lips pulled back, teeth bared. The morningstar's chains rattled as her grip tightened around the handle until her knuckles went white.

Right. So things were very not good.

"The Witch's miasma clings to her," Rem hissed through clenched teeth. "It's likely she controls these mabeasts somehow."

That tracked. The girl had walked through an army of demon dogs without a scratch, after all. But it raised a more pressing question.

"What do you want from us?" Subaru called across the clearing, fighting to keep his voice level. He would suffer a generational loss if he let it quiver in fear in front of a little girl.

"I want a lot of things, big bro~ther!" She clasped her hands together with childish enthusiasm, practically bouncing on her heels. "But right n~ow? I want to make Mama happy, and that means I need you to tell me certain thi~ngs!"

She clapped her hands together, sharp, piercing, a sound that cracked through the clearing like a gunshot.

The forest moved.

Like a tide responding to the moon, the horde of wolgarms surged forward from the shadows in perfect unison. Hundreds of crimson eyes flowed toward them, a synchronized wave of fur and fangs. Subaru's heart hammered against his ribs as he tried to count them, ten, twenty, then he lost track, certainly more than he or Rem could fight. The demon dogs tightened the half-circle around the clearing, their advance only halting when they formed a wall of muscle and teeth mere feet behind their small master.

"What is it you want to know?" Subaru forced the words out, louder this time. "We can talk without the threat of your dogs getting closer, you know?"

"Oh, I kn~ow!" The girl's smile widened until it looked almost painful, too bright for her cherubic face. "I just wanted you to see that I'm the one holding all the leashes he~re."

She spoke with a bright, chipper tone, utterly at odds with the wall of death at her back.

Rem's restraint finally snapped.

"Witch cultist!" Her voice rang out across the clearing, sharp and venomous. "You trespass on Lord Roswaal L. Mathers's land! As a maid under his employ, and in my master's absence, I, Rem, will bring the death penalty upon you!"

Subaru wanted to scream. What possible good could come from threatening the little girl who held a metaphorical gun to their heads?! And how would Rem even go about taking her down, charge through a hundred wolgarms and hope for the best?!

He grabbed for her arm, fingers closing around her wrist. "Rem, wait—"

The young girl, meanwhile, seemed utterly indifferent. She watched the outburst with a slow, bored tilt of her head, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn.

"Is that so~?" She held her hand out to catch the fading light, inspecting the sheen of her nails. "I mean, I'm not in the cult, so that's a pretty rude assump~tion." Her olive eyes flicked up, suddenly sharp. "And se~cond? I'd like to see you try~!"

The mocking lilt in her voice was like gasoline on a fire.

Rem's expression grew even colder, if that was somehow possible. She dropped into a crouch, weight shifting to the balls of her feet, muscles coiling like a spring ready to launch. The morningstar swung forward—

Subaru's hands clamped down on her exposed shoulders, hauling her back. "Rem! Come on, she says she isn't in the cult, plus she's just a kid! We can at least hear what she wants!"

He was walking a razor-thin line here. Rem seemed to go absolutely insane whenever anything cult-related came up, and the little girl across the clearing radiated too much confidence for him to imagine they had even a snowball's chance in hell of winning this fight.

It was an army versus two. There had to be some other way out of this encounter besides violence that would end with them as dog food.

Rem twisted in his grip to stare at him, confusion flickering across her features, and something that looked dangerously close to betrayal. Her lips parted as if to argue.

But she must have caught the desperate determination burning in his eyes, because after a long, tense moment, she finally relented. The tension bled from her shoulders. She straightened slowly, standing rigid beside him, still glaring daggers at the girl, but at least not charging to her death.

Subaru released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That's the w~ay!" The girl cheered, clapping her hands together. "You should listen to big brother, he seems to know what he's talking a~bout!"

Subaru took a careful step forward, hands rising in a placating gesture before he slowly, deliberately unsheathed his sword and laid it on the ground. 'Please don't sic your murder dogs on us.'

He straightened, keeping his hands visible at his sides. "Well? Will you finally tell me what it is you want from us?"

The girl bobbed in place, practically vibrating with childish energy. Behind her, a massive wolgarm padded forward from the pack, and Subaru's brain stuttered when he noticed a small puppy riding on its head like a tiny, furry crown.

The sight would have been absolutely adorable if not for the whole 'surrounded by death' situation.

"Let's see~." The girl tapped a finger against her chin, swaying side to side. "I don't need anything from miss ma~id! Just you, big bro~ther."

Her smile didn't waver, but her tone suddenly carried a razor's edge beneath the sing-song lilt.

Subaru's stomach dropped.

"Wait!" The word burst out before he could think. "If you kill or harm Rem, then I won't say anything to you!"

It was a gamble, but he was grasping at straws here. His only leverage was whatever information she wanted. If his value was high enough, maybe he could—

"Hmph!" The girl's face scrunched into an exaggerated pout, arms crossing over her chest in a way that would've been adorable on any other kid. "Big Sister would probably scold me for this, but what~ever!" She kicked at the dirt petulantly. "She went and got caught so easily, so it's not like she can say mean things at the mo~ment!"

Subaru's mind stuttered, trying to parse that. Somebody had been captured? Who was 'Big Sister'? An accomplice? He didn't have time to—

The girl suddenly bounced forward, closing half the distance between them in a few skipping steps. Her olive eyes locked onto his with unsettling intensity.

"Al~right!" She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward. "Tell me everything you know about a Big Brother named Ethan Cald~well!"

—

Emilia worked reeeally hard to maintain her "customer service smile," as Ethan had called it. But with every word that oozed from the council representative's mouth, her carefully constructed mask threatened to crack and reveal the annoyed pout lurking beneath.

The silver-haired half-elf wasn't one for all this doublespeak. The short, plump man with his pencil-thin mustache and thinning green hair droned on and on in circles, saying everything and nothing at once. But the gist of his verbose non-answer was crystal clear: none of the council members of Costuul would be present at her speech.

Because none of them liked her for what she was.

She kept her smile fixed in place, but her fingers curled slightly against her dress. She'd never even spoken to them. And yet they'd already determined she wasn't worth their time, wasn't worth learning who she actually was beyond the pointed ears and silver hair.

"But of course, we all wish you the best of luck, Lady Emilia." The short man's smile didn't reach his eyes as he bobbed his head in a perfunctory bow.

Then his gaze slid past her shoulder, and his entire demeanor shifted. His spine straightened. Interest sparked in his expression, the kind he'd withheld during their entire conversation.

He gestured grandly behind her. "Now who might this fine gentleman beside you be?"

Emilia glanced over her shoulder, already knowing exactly who the man was talking about, and nearly startled when she had to tilt her head up.

When had Ethan gotten so close?

He stood barely a foot away, close enough that she caught the faint scent of the same soap she'd used this morning.

He cut an impressive figure in the white suit she'd chosen for him, the purple embroidery spread tastefully across the sleeves and around the neckline catching the light. His messy white hair framed sharp features, and those molten gold eyes, currently fixed on the representative, spoke far more of his mood than the calm, pleasant smile spread across his lips.

Her partner looked irritated. Emilia could see it in the slight tension at the corners of his eyes, the way his jaw was just a fraction too tight, the particular quality of stillness he adopted when restraining himself.

But to the representative, he probably looked positively open to conversation. Approachable, even.

"Ethan Caldwell." His voice reminded her of the time they were acting in the loot house back in the Royal Capital. "It's been a pleasant day, Representative Orbán."

Emilia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Even Ethan was playing the game now. As thankful as she was for his lessons in the more social aspects of interaction, the careful word choices, the hidden meanings, she found it exhausting having to recontextualize every single sentence spoken.

Yet as politically involved as the representative likely was, he either didn't manage to pick up on the hint, or simply didn't care to.

"It is indeed a lovely day, perfect for our Founding Festival this month! Well met, Mr. Caldwell, truly! Have you had the chance to tour the city yet? More specifically, have you had the chance to glimpse our foundries or magi towers?"

Ethan shook his head with an apologetic smile that somehow managed to look genuine. "Unfortunately not, Representative. And while I would be honored to talk at length about such matters..."

He glanced down at his right wrist, though there was nothing there.

"The speech is just around the corner," Ethan continued smoothly. "Lady Emilia and I would be grateful to have this short remaining time to ourselves."

The representative made a little "oh" sound, his enthusiasm deflating slightly. Emilia watched with a barely suppressed twitch of her eyebrow as the short man glanced at her, as if it were somehow her fault that Ethan couldn't continue their conversation.

Her smile tightened imperceptibly.

"Of course! Of course!" Orbán nodded his head rapidly, already backing toward the door. "I wouldn't want to impose on you any further, Mr. Caldwell! Truly, if you wish to see the wonders of our city's true might, do get in contact with me! I look forward to it!"

The plump man reached the exit of the small waiting room and pulled the door open. He was halfway through when he seemed to remember something. He paused, one foot already in the hallway, and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Ah! And again, much luck with the speech, Lady Emilia."

Without waiting for her response, without even looking at her properly, the representative made his hasty retreat. The door clicked shut behind him.

Emilia waited, counting the seconds as the tap-tap-tap of the man's shoes grew fainter down the hallway. She held her composure until the sound faded entirely into silence.

Then she let out a loud, unrestrained sigh, practically deflating where she stood. Her shoulders sagged. Carefully maintained posture crumbled. Gone was the supposed "royal image" Ethan had been coaching her to maintain. All that remained was just... Emilia.

She spun around to face Ethan properly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. He looked equally tired now that the mask had dropped, the tension in his jaw finally eased.

She hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for that familiar whisper of doubt to creep in: Would she be imposing? Be a bother?

But all her recent memories rose up to answer: No. He wouldn't mind.

So she stepped forward, closing what little distance remained between them, and let herself collapse against his chest, face resting into his collarbone.

The world narrowed to just this, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth seeping through the white material, the faint scent of him. For just this moment, she let her worries fade.

Ethan's arms rose slowly, carefully, as if giving her time to pull away if she wanted. Then they wrapped firmly around her back.

"Are you doing alright, Lia?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, warm breath ghosting past her ear. His hands had already begun their familiar pattern, slow, soothing circles against her back, the gentle pressure working its way up her spine and back down again.

"Mhm, I'll be fine." The words came automatically, half-focused. She was more aware of his touch than her own thoughts, the way his palms traced those steady, grounding paths that somehow always knew exactly where the tension gathered.

The sting of the council's rejection still burned, but right now, with his hands moving in those practiced circles, it was hard to care.

"I'm here if you need me." Ethan murmured.

Then he began to sway. Just slightly. A gentle rocking motion that pulled her along with him.

Emilia's eyes drifted closed. This was like dancing. The memory of the one time they'd practiced back at the manor floated to the surface. It had lasted only a few brief minutes in an empty room with no music, just the sound of their footsteps and his quiet counting. But it had been oddly relaxing.

This felt much the same.

In the quiet of their waiting room, they swayed side to side, never moving beyond where they stood, feet barely shifting. But the gentle rhythm was enough. Her anxieties about the events waiting for her outside smoothed away like ripples settling on still water.

Unfortunately, the peace couldn't last forever.

A polite knock on the door broke the silence, two soft raps before an unfamiliar feminine voice filtered through from the hallway. "Lady Emilia, you'll be expected on stage in five minutes."

Emilia felt Ethan's chest rise and fall with a resigned sigh.

"What a shame," he murmured, that familiar dry humor threading through his words. "And here I was, just about ready to sway myself to sleep."

The soft chuckle that followed rumbled against her cheek.

Emilia didn't want to let go. Every part of her wanted to stay right here, cocooned in this quiet safety where expectations couldn't reach her.

So she counted to thirty in her head, stealing just half a minute more, before finally stepping back.

The cool air rushed in where his warmth had been, and she immediately busied herself smoothing out her dress, running her palms over the fabric to give her hands something to do.

Her gaze drifted toward the mirror in the corner of the room. But just as it entered her vision, she turned away. She didn't want to see that. Her eyes shifted to Ethan instead, seeking his assessment rather than her own reflection.

"Do I look fine?"

Ethan's expression softened. That wry smile spread across his face as he raised both hands, thumbs up, in that oddly endearing gesture he occasionally did.

"More than fine, Lia. You look great."

His praise carried no hesitation, no polite deflection. It sounded entirely sincere. And the smile on his face was nothing like the pleasant mask he'd worn for Orbán, this one reached his eyes, crinkling the corners, warming those molten gold irises until they practically glowed.

Heat bloomed in Emilia's cheeks. That feeling that only seemed to grow more prevalent burned brighter in her chest. It was fluttering, insistent, and equally impossible to name as it was to ignore. All she knew was that it was strongest when around him.

She opened her mouth to respond—

And a brilliant glimmer of green light erupted from her glintstone pendant. The crystalline glow intensified, and out materialized her father in all his small, feline glory.

"Super Cat is on the scene!"

Her father's voice rang out with theatrical flair as he struck a heroic pose mid-air, one tiny paw raised skyward. It was a strange title he'd certainly picked up from Ethan, she'd have to ask about that later.

"Is that guy from before gone?" Puck's gray fur bristled slightly as he glanced around the room with feigned vigilance, whiskers twitching. Then his aqua blue eyes landed on her properly, and his entire demeanor shifted.

He gasped like he was seeing her for the first time, even though he had literally helped her get dressed in her current outfit just this morning.

Mirroring Ethan, Puck gave her two enthusiastic thumbs up, or at least the feline equivalent, raising both paws high while his tail wiggled rapidly.

"Looking great, my daughter!" Pride radiated from every word. "You'll crush this little speech!"

Then his expression turned decidedly more dangerous, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face. "And if they aren't happy with it, I'll crush them!"

The threat would've been more intimidating if he wasn't currently the size of a particularly fluffy house cat, tail still doing its happy wiggle.

"Maybe no crushing of the civilian population?" Ethan interjected, stepping forward and reaching out to poke Puck directly in the head with one finger. "We are here to make a good first impression, after all."

Puck spun mid-air with an indignant huff, batting at the offending finger with both paws in rapid succession. "Boo! You're no fun, Ethan." He crossed his tiny arms, an impressively petulant gesture for a cat. "What's a Great Spirit to do in his free time besides cause mass mayhem and destruction?"

"Literally anything else?" Ethan suggested dryly.

"Boring!"

As the two launched into their usual banter, Puck listing increasingly absurd acts of violence he could commit, Ethan calmly dismantling each one with infuriating logic, Emilia felt herself smile despite the nerves coiling in her stomach.

She turned away from their antics, letting their familiar back-and-forth wash over her like white noise while she ran through her final preparations. The words of her speech scrolled through her mind, each sentence carefully memorized. She mouthed the opening silently, feeling the shape of the words.

'I have a dream…'

Another knock on the door, sharper this time, more insistent.

"Lady Emilia," the voice called through. "It's time."

The playful atmosphere evaporated instantly, and her stomach dropped. Emilia drew in a slow breath, held it, and released it.

She could do this.

—

Stepping onto the large wooden stage, Emilia felt the weight of hundreds of eyes landing on her.

The stage boards creaked softly beneath her feet. Beyond the platform's edge, the crowd stretched out like a sea, faces upon faces of various races, though she noted it was predominantly Demi-humans, all turned toward her, all watching. Waiting. Judging before she'd even opened her mouth.

She ignored that weight. Or tried to.

She was here to kick off the festival. To let the people get a glimpse of who she was, the real her, not the half-elf monster they'd already decided she must be.

This was supposed to be light. No major pronouncements. No grand political declarations. Just her introduction to the larger world.

Simple. Easy.

She rationalized it to herself, mind racing through a thousand spinning thoughts with every careful step that carried her closer to the metia system waiting at the podium. 

The device sat at the front and center of the stage, an elegant contraption of glintstones and amplifiers that would project her voice across the entire square through some complex interaction of Yang magic and resonance frequencies.

At least, that's what the stagehand had tried to explain. The technical details had flown completely over her head, lost in her anxiety about what came after the device worked.

All that mattered was: she'd speak into it, and everyone would hear her.

Every. Single. Person.

For all her preparation, all the affirmations both Ethan and her father had given her, she couldn't help but feel reeeally nervous.

And could anybody blame her? All her life, Emilia had never had the chance to gain much social experience. 

This speech to hundreds was a terrifying leap. On a normal day, her entire world consisted of just six people: Puck, Ethan, Subaru, Roswaal, and the maids. 

Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip. A light wave of nausea rolled through her, making her swallow hard against the tightness in her throat.

This wasn't going to be pleasant.

As she drew closer to the podium, close enough now to see the intricate etchings in the glintstones, she tried to focus on why she was doing this in the first place.

Emilia had goals. Things she wanted, no, needed, to accomplish. Sins she had to atone for.

She reached for those reasons now, pulling them close like armor against her anxiety. Memories flooded her mind: the frozen forest, the elves trapped in eternal ice. The Demi-humans of Lugunica, faces turned away in fear and prejudice. Children who deserved better than the world they'd inherited.

It was to help people. To save the trapped elves of Elior Forest by winning the throne. To help the Demi-humans of Lugunica be treated with dignity and respect. To make a kingdom where more people could be happy. Where all faces could smile, human, Demi-human, half-elf, it wouldn't matter.

She took those visions and nestled them deep within the core of her being, letting them settle like warm embers in her chest. As she reached the podium, fingers brushing against the cool wood, she prepared to use that resolve to fuel her voice. To turn hope into words.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ethan standing close by, not too far, well within arm's length if she needed him. His presence was a balm for her racing mind, steady and grounding. Her partner.

And of course, there was Father perched on Ethan's shoulder, tiny paws kneading the fabric of that white suit. Emilia found it both silly and comforting how the two had taken to each other.

Her sources of confidence. Her anchors.

She could do this.

With a single slow, quiet breath, she began.

"I have a dream for Lugunica—"

The murmur of the crowd quieted. Not silenced, not yet, but softened, confused. They hadn't fully processed what was standing on the stage before them. Hadn't registered the silver hair, the pointed ears. She had seconds before they did.

"—a kingdom watched over by the Divine Dragon Volcanica, a kingdom founded on the promise that all could find a home here."

A ripple passed through the sea of faces. Recognition dawning as they took in her features. But the invocation of the Dragon's name held them, sacred, undeniable, demanding reverence even from lips they didn't trust.

"That dream is not mine alone." Her voice carried across the square, amplified by the metia's hum. "It belongs to every person who believes in the ideals upon which this nation was built. Ideals of unity. Of hope. Of a future where we stand together, united by our shared love for this kingdom."

The people were silent now.

They weren't shouting crude names. They weren't rioting. Fifteen seconds in, and they were listening.

From the corner of her vision, Emilia caught the slight relaxation in Ethan's shoulders.

His gambit had worked.

She pressed forward, voice steady, building momentum before the spell could break.

"And it is that dream, those founding ideals, that we celebrate today. The Founding Festival honors the moment our kingdom was born—"

Focused as Emilia was on her speech, on maintaining that fragile thread of connection with the crowd, she missed something she would have otherwise caught.

Her half-elf heritage was many things, a curse in most contexts, yes, but when it came to physical prowess and senses? Those were gifts. Sharper hearing. Faster reflexes. An awareness of her surroundings that surpassed human limitation.

Yet at this moment, with hundreds of eyes on her and her heart hammering against her ribs, those enhanced senses failed her completely.

She didn't hear the spell forming. Didn't catch the shift in the air, the building heat, the—

CRACK—

The sound split the world in half.

A blinding flash of white-hot light erupted from her right side, searing across her vision. The heat hit her like a physical wall.

BOOM!

The explosion detonated with a force that punched the air from her lungs. The stage shook. Splinters of wood exploded outward. The shockwave hammered against her chest, knocking the breath from her body.

Her body moved before her mind caught up, pure survival instinct overriding thought. Her arms flew up to shield her face. Her legs coiled and launched, throwing her backward in a desperate leap away from the blast.

She hit the stage boards hard, rolling, the world spinning in a chaos of light and sound and smoke and screaming—

Her head snapped up.

Terror crashed through her chest like ice water.

The spot where Ethan had been standing was gone, consumed by a roiling inferno of orange and red flames that clawed at the sky. Fire spread across the wooden stage in hungry tendrils, eating through the planks with terrifying speed. Black smoke billowed upward in thick, choking columns.

Her first thoughts screamed for her father and Ethan, but before the terror could take hold, a familiar voice rang clear through their bond.

'We're fine, Lia! Get to cover!'

Emilia hesitated, eyes still searching the inferno, she had to see them first.

A sudden, frigid gale shrieked across the stage. The wind tore through the black smoke and snuffed out the roaring flames in a single heartbeat, revealing Ethan and Puck unharmed within a shimmering barrier of ice.

Seeing them safe broke her paralysis. She scrambled backward, dropping off the side of the splintered platform.

Below, the square had descended into bedlam. The crowd was a screaming, surging tide forcing its way toward the plaza exits. Emilia watched in horror as people were shoved and trampled in the stampede, but there was nothing she could do. Panic ruled them now.

Instead, she forced herself to focus. 'Where did the magic come from?'

Not the crowd, nobody among them stood out as a caster, and the trajectory was all wrong. No, it would have to be from a higher vantage point than ground level.

Intuition guided her gaze upward. She locked onto the flat rooftop of the theater building directly behind the stage.

Silhouettes loomed against the darkening sky. Four of them, black cloaks flowing in the wind. Pale-white ceramic masks stared down at Ethan, and even from this distance Emilia could sense the build up of mana.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted the vibrant, glowing multicolored lights gathered around the figures like swarming lightbugs. Spirits. They were all spirit-arts users.

And they were preparing a second volley.

"Ethan!" She screamed, though the warning was useless over the roar of the crowd. 

Her partner didn't seem to hear her, his eyes were locked on the enemy, expression oddly blank.

Emilia stared in confusion as his mouth moved, he was speaking to her father, and then the barrier of ice protecting the. shimmered out of existence. Puck had just dropped the shield. What were they doing?!

Before Emilia could prepare to do… something, anything to stop what was going to happen, Ethan took a single step forward.

Then, he kicked the stage.

It was a simple, if violent motion, but the result was anything but.

The instant his boot made contact, an entire section of the stage floor exploded outward in a massive cloud of wood splinters, dust, nails, and debris, all hurling toward the rooftop.

But the debris didn't fly. There was no visible arc, no trajectory Emilia could track even with her eyes. The wreckage simply... vanished from one point and—

CRACK-BOOM!

The sound that followed was unlike anything Emilia had ever heard. Sharper than thunder, and far louder than any magic she knew. It felt like the atmosphere itself had been torn apart

A cone of invisible destruction erupted upward from the stage, carving through the air with power she could only liken to the strength of the Divine Dragon.

There was no impact. No crumbling masonry. No moment of collapse.

One moment, the ornate stone cornice of the theater roof and the assassins standing upon it were there.

The next, they were simply gone.

A massive semi-circular chunk of the structure, stone, mortar, bodies, everything, had been erased from existence. Turned into a fine, expanding red mist of pulverized stone and... other things Emilia's mind refused to paint.

The shockwave of displaced air hit a split second later.

Every window in the plaza exploded outward in a glittering cascade of glass. The remaining smoke around the stage flattened instantly as if struck by a hammer, and the ground beneath her feet trembled.

As terrifying as Ethan's show of power was, she only felt relief flooding through her. He was safe. Her father was safe. The threat was dealt with.

Now they could focus on helping the people in the crowd who were injured—

"LIA, GET DOWN!"

The voice, Ethan's voice, cut through everything with desperate urgency.

Emilia's senses caught up a heartbeat later. Movement. Fast. Charging from just outside her peripheral vision.

Another assassin.

Dressed identically to the ones who'd been obliterated on the roof, dark flowing cloak, ceramic mask with void-like holes where eyes should be. The only other detail she could make out in the split second before impact was the strange curved shortsword gripped in their hand, blade angled for a killing thrust.

Her body dropped before her mind finished assessing the threat.

Instinct took over. Even in her dress, Emilia twisted low and lashed out with a sharp kick aimed at the attacker's leading leg.

Her short-heel connected with a satisfying crack of impact. The assassin's momentum broke, their charge halting as they stumbled.

Emilia didn't give them time to recover. She pressed her left palm flat against the ground and pushed, a feat of raw physical strength that launched her entire body upward in a fluid motion as her right fist came around in a vicious hook aimed directly at the masked figure's chest.

But the would-be killer was no amateur.

They took a single controlled step backward, angling their blade with practiced precision. The flat of the sword intercepted her fist with a metallic ring, deflecting the strike just enough to slip past her guard.

The assassin's stance shifted instantly, weight dropping, blade rotating in their grip with terrifying speed.

The curved edge came around in a sharp slice aimed directly at her exposed gut.

Emilia's eyes widened. Too close. Too fast. She couldn't—

The man suddenly halted mid-carve, left arm snapping up in a sharp defensive motion. The movement revealed a dull gray vambrace beneath the flowing cloak, and it was only that split-second reaction that prevented a beam of radiant light from taking his head clean off.

The beam struck the vambrace dead-on. There was a strange flash of brilliant white light that made Emilia squint, then nothing. The attack seemed to simply... negate. Absorbed or deflected by whatever enchantment protected the armor. The assassin looked perfectly fine, not even staggered.

But Emilia wasn't about to waste Ethan's distraction.

She pivoted on her back foot and threw a rapid snap-kick that cracked the distracted man right beneath the jaw of his ceramic mask. The impact reverberated up her leg. His head snapped backward with a sickening crack, and the mask fractured along one side.

The killer stumbled backward, arms windmilling for balance—

A spirit materialized by his shoulder. Small, dark, wreathed in shadows. It was a spirit of Yin.

Before Emilia could press her advantage, the spirit released a choking smokescreen of Shamak. The sense-stealing cloud erupted outward, thick and impenetrable, washing over the area in a black tide that swallowed sight, sound, even smell.

But Emilia's elven grace didn't fail her. She kicked off the ground hard, launching herself backward in a controlled leap, and landed in a crouch on the battered remains of the stage. Splinters bit into her palms as she steadied herself.

Rapid footsteps approached her from behind, unable to even catch a gasp of air, Emilia spun, fists clenched as she prepared to defend herself—

"It's us!" 

Ethan's voice.

She caught sight of him and Puck, her partner leapt over a shattered floor board, a fully formed fireball already crackling in his outstretched palm. As he reached her side, he stepped around her and without hesitation hurled it directly down and into the shroud of darkness. 

The fireball disappeared into the black cloud. There was a muffled whoomp of impact, followed by a brief flare of orange light that illuminated the Shamak from within like a lantern.

Then nothing.

The darkness held, and there was no sign of whether they had gotten the enemy.

Emilia heard her father let out a low, annoyed growl as he settled beside her, tiny arms crossing over his chest.

"This is dangerous, my daughter." Puck's voice took on a rare, deadly serious tone. "I can push this a little further, but my limit is getting far closer than I'd like."

Emilia nodded, throat tight with understanding. Her eyes flickered across the plaza, the few remaining people still scrambling desperately toward the exits, stumbling over debris and each other. And the bodies. So many bodies left crumpled and motionless in the wake of the stampede, scattered across the cobblestones like discarded dolls.

Her chest constricted. Later. She'd grieve later.

Her gaze sought out Ethan next, both to check if he was alright and to see if he had a plan. He always seemed to know what to do. Always had an answer.

Currently, he was rotating in place, head snapping from point to point across the entire plaza. His movements were quick, not really looking at anything so much as taking in a cursory glimpse. 

Finally, the weight of his attention landed on her.

For just a split-second, she swore his eyes were glowing, that molten gold burning with an unnatural intensity. His face was set in a grim sneer, jaw clenched, expression harder than she'd ever seen it.

Then he focused on her, actually saw her, and his entire face seemed to melt into relief. His shoulders sagged slightly—

He shook his head as if clearing it and suddenly lurched forward, arm reaching for her—

He halted mid-step. His eyes shot wide, focused on something over her shoulder.

"Puck!"

Her father responded instantly. A massive THUD echoed from directly behind her, so close she felt the displaced air against her back.

Emilia spun.

A hastily erected ice shield stood between them and a dissipating blast of fire magic. Black smoke poured over its surface, obscuring whatever lay beyond.

As the smoke cleared, Emilia's jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.

More assassins.

They were everywhere. Perched on the rooftops of buildings surrounding the plaza like gargoyles, dark shapes against the darkening sky. Several more approaching the stage from ground level, and one standing perfectly still atop a fountain's edge, arm already extended, finger pointed directly at them.

A spirit of fire hovered at his shoulder, the bright red orb floated cheerfully beside its faceless contractor.

It took only a second for another Goa to form, a swirling sphere of concentrated flame coalescing at the assassin's fingertip.

Without a hint of motion, without warning or windup, the fireball rocketed forward and slammed into Puck's shield with another crackling THUD that shook the air.

This time, she heard something worse than the impact.

A sharp, splintering crack.

Her breath caught, and she watched as fracture lines spiderwebbed across the ice shield's surface, spreading outward from the point of impact like frozen lightning.

The barrier was breaking.

Something had to change, but Emilia didn't know what.

Ethan and Puck were exchanging grim looks, some wordless communication passing between them, strategizing without her. And there she stood behind them, hands clenched uselessly at her sides, feeling completely lost.

Was this all she was? Somebody to be protected? A liability to be shielded while others fought and died around her?

The thought burned like acid in her chest.

No.

She stepped forward, spine straightening, and mentally reached out through the bond. 'Father. I'm going to help.'

She felt his attention snap to her, surprise flickering through the connection, but no refusal. 

"Ethan." Her voice rang out clearer than she expected.

He turned immediately, gold eyes locking onto hers.

"Puck and I will create an opening." She forced steel into her words, into her posture. "Then we'll move away from the stage. We can go for help and then defeat these people."

She wasn't sure how confident she actually sounded, her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat, but Ethan simply nodded once.

Locking onto the assassin preparing to send another fireball toward them, Emilia raised her hands in his direction. A quick glance to the side reconfirmed where the other group of assassins currently were.

She inwardly thanked Ethan for all that combat sparring they'd done recently, for it gave her plenty of ideas to work with.

—

I took one last deep breath as the cracks in the shield deepened with each passing second. My skin prickled from the volume of mana Emilia was channeling.

We would get out of here. We had to.

At the last moment before the ice barrier shattered completely, just as another fireball sailed toward us in a streak of orange light, Emilia countered.

Ice bloomed outward from the ground before her feet, surging through the splintered stage. A jagged physical wave of frozen spears erupted upward and outward, rocketing toward the fire-flinging assassin who still stood perched atop the fountain's edge.

He didn't look particularly concerned.

I raised my hand, finger extended like a gun barrel, and pointed directly at him. My Jiwald beam hadn't worked on the assassin who'd fought Emilia, absorbed or negated somehow by that vambrace. But maybe El Jiwald would punch through. More power. More—

Click

Reason and Judgment

The world ground to a halt, and a mocking voice whispered in my ear.

'I think you're forgetting about the fifteen other assassins staring at you right now, Ethan.' The words dripped with condescension. 'Don't you think it's a little odd that only ONE of them has been attacking you? With pathetic Goa-level fireballs, no less? These people are dressed like special forces, able to launch such an attack on a major city, and you think a basic Goa is all they can manage?'

Taking my own advice for what it was worth, I let time resume its normal flow and stopped focusing solely on the single assassin.

Emilia's assault continued, ice spreading in frigid fractals across the cobblestones, she wasn't fixated on just the one man either. I watched with approval as more sharpened ice thrust outward and away from the stage in all directions, creating a forest of cold surrounding our position.

Emilia leapt down from the stage in the direction she'd cleared, landing in a crouch among the ice spears. Puck hovered after her immediately, already forming another shield.

I moved to chase after her—

A deep rumble from directly below forced me to stumble backward. The stage floor buckled beneath my feet.

A wall of solid stone erupted upward through shattered wood and ice, shooting skyward and towering a couple meters above me. The barrier cut across the entire stage, separating me from Emilia in an instant.

This sudden obstacle could have been erased in a heartbeat with my Authority, but that obviously wasn't an option.

I pivoted to run around the damned thing when I felt a gentle breeze rustle through my hair, barely a whisper of air, so subtle I almost missed it.

Something in my mind screamed.

Instinct overrode thought. I threw my body to the ground without hesitation, shoulder slamming into the wooden floorboards hard enough to bruise. Pain flared hot and immediate across my upper arm, but I was already moving.

A loud, shrieking gust of wind ripped through the space where my head had been a split-second earlier. The pressurized air blade carved a deep gouge into the stage behind me, wood screaming as it split. Splinters exploded outward in a shower of debris, some peppering my back as I hit the ground.

I rolled to my feet in one continuous motion, breathing hard. My heart hammered against my ribs, more adrenaline flooded my system and made everything feel sharp and immediate.

Mana flowed from my gate, responding to desperate need. "Huma!" I chanted, focus was shot to hell, no time for proper visualization, and forced the moisture in the air to flash freeze into a frozen panel. Ice crystallized in front of me, forming a translucent shield just wide enough to cover my torso.

Just in time.

Crack-crack-crack, three rapid impacts slammed into my hastily formed barrier. Steel-tipped crossbow bolts buried themselves halfway through the ice, their pointed tips visible through the translucent surface, stopped mere inches from where they would have punched into my flesh had I not thought to form the shield.

My hands were shaking. The ice was already on the verge of shattering from the impact.

Click

The world froze mid-motion, dropping into that muted mental space where time stopped meaning anything. Reason and Judgment activated, giving me infinite time to think while reality held its breath.

Resting in my mental reprieve, my eyes scrutinized the view before me with forced calm.

The enemy wasn't messing around anymore. Three assassins were currently in the process of leaping onto the stage, caught mid-air in my frozen perception. 

The ice wall Emilia had formed earlier to keep them at bay had melted down completely, reduced to nothing. Puddles of water lay at the feet of four other assassins who appeared to be playing ranged support, spirits of wind, yang, and fire hovered nearby, an ever-present threat.

I considered my options with dull detachment, the Authority's influence keeping panic at arm's length.

The enemy was too spread out for Indomitable to be efficient. And the one time I'd used offensive magic directly, the enemy had been able to nullify it. Some kind of anti-magic technique or enchantment. There weren't any markings or regalia that denoted that particular assassin as a leader of sorts. That meant I had to assume that each and every assassin here was capable of rendering a single magical strike null. 

In terms of weapons, I only had my stolen dagger from the loot house on me. I'd been foolishly dissuaded from carrying my new sword by Ram, who had claimed it would look "improper" on a so-called "advisor to Lady Emilia." The weapon was back in my room, doing me absolutely no good whatsoever.

That would be the last time I listened to that maid's fashion advice.

My objective here was simple: kill these assassins and regroup with Emilia. Buy time, stay alive, protect her until reinforcements arrived. Eventually, the city guard had to come and clean this mess up. This level of assault in a major city, as brazen as it was, should have been impossible under normal circumstances.

That meant something was keeping the guard occupied, preventing them from responding to what should have been an obvious emergency. Bribed, delayed, or engaged elsewhere. Regardless of their potential political dislike of Emilia, this level of violence in the middle of a public venue couldn't be permitted to continue. Someone would come.

In the meantime, I would have to do what I could to manage on my own.

Click

Time snapped forward like a released bowstring, and I let the short confidence boost of my Authority flow through me, artificial certainty keeping me stable and focused. The shaking in my hands steadied. My breathing evened out.

My ice barrier finally shattered under the stress, fracturing into dozens of glittering shards. The three lodged bolts clattered to the wooden stage floor, but I ignored them completely. Both hands raised toward the approaching trio who had just landed on the stage ahead of me, boots hitting wood with nary a sound, knees bending to absorb impact, weapons already sweeping up for strikes.

I let the mana flow through my limbs, pulling from my gate in a controlled rush. The energy sang through my channels, hot and eager.

Click

Fire erupted from my palms. My hands transformed into flamethrowers, jetting red-hot streams of flame in expanding cones that swept toward my enemy. The heat washed back over my face, intense enough to make my eyes water. The three assassins on the stage jerked back, raising arms defensively as the fire rushed toward them—

A flash of brilliant light from the right side caught my peripheral vision.

Click.

Instinct screamed. More confidence flooded my system, more precious time to review everything in absolute clarity. I could see it now in my frozen perception, another assassin, positioned at the stage's right flank, hand extended with mana crackling around his fingers. A Jiwald, the concentrated beam of light magic that could punch through steel, already forming and aimed directly at my center mass.

I let time release and tilted my left arm down in one sharp motion, adjusting my stance just enough. The Jiwald lance flashed past, missing my torso by inches. It grazed over my suit's fabric instead, the concentrated beam scorching the cloth black and leaving a smoking line across my sleeve. The smell of burned fabric filled my nostrils, acrid and chemical.

But I was unharmed. The skin beneath untouched.

My fire attack sputtered out as I lost focus, the streams dying away. The three assassins on stage recovered quickly, a stone wall that they'd lifted and been hiding behind crumbled away.

They leapt over the fallen construct and once more moved to close the distance. I didn't have time for another sustained offensive cast, they'd cut me down before I finished the chant.

I wasn't good enough with the ice side of fire magic to form massive shards of ice like Emilia could, couldn't create those beautiful barriers or spears that she wielded with such elegant precision. My affinity leaned toward heat, toward Yang magic and its aggressive applications.

But I needed a distraction. Cover to get me off this damned stage before I was surrounded completely.

I focused inward, drawing on my Yang magic reserves. Eyes squeezed shut to protect them from what was coming. I forced and formed the largest Flare spell I could manage, pouring mana into it with reckless intensity. The energy compressed and concentrated in my raised palm, building, building, growing more unstable with each passing heartbeat.

To the enemy, a basketball-sized sun formed in my outstretched hand. The sphere of condensed light magic blazed with impossible brightness, casting harsh shadows across the plaza and turning the assassins into dark silhouettes against the glare. Even the cover of my eyelids wasn't enough to keep the light out, and the glow of it burned red through my own flesh.

Then I released it.

The Flare detonated with a soundless flash. Retina-searing radiant light exploded outward bright enough to illuminate the entire darkening plaza like it was mid-day. Every shadow vanished in an instant, replaced by searing white brilliance that painted everything in stark, overexposed detail.

Shouts of surprise erupted from the assassins, blinded, disoriented, hands flying to their faces too late.

In that moment of chaos that followed, in that precious heartbeat where they couldn't see and I could barely see but knew where I needed to go, I sprinted to the side. My boots pounded against wooden planks, mana reinforcing my limbs and pushing me faster..

Then I leapt.

Threw myself off the stage in a desperate diving jump, arms spread, body horizontal in mid-air. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I tucked into a roll the moment I hit, shoulder taking the impact as I tumbled across cobblestones.

Pain again flared through my body, scraped palms stinging, but I ignored it, pushing through the discomfort and letting momentum carry me away from the kill zone.

I jumped to my feet in one lurching motion, already breaking into a sprint. My legs burned with effort as I ran. I only took the time to whip my head around, shooting a glance in the direction I thought Emilia was in, trying to locate her through the chaos and fading light of my Flare.

Click

Another frozen snapshot, time ground to a halt mid-heartbeat. The world locked into perfect stillness.

I caught Emilia in the process of jamming a spear of ice into an assassin's chest. The frozen weapon was buried halfway through the man's torso, frost spreading from the entry wound across his dark clothing.

Her face was frozen in a grim frown, lips pressed into a thin line, amethyst eyes hard with determination and something that might have been horror. Blood splattered across her once-pristine white and gold dress in dark crimson streaks, the elegant fabric ruined by violence she'd been forced to commit.

She was holding her own. Barely.

Puck was covering her back, his small cat-like form floating protectively behind her left shoulder. Multiple projectiles hung suspended in the air before his raised paw, three fireballs wreathed in orange flame and two icicles sharp as daggers, all frozen mid-formation. 

He'd been about to launch a bombardment at two masked men who were trying to flank them from behind, their blades raised for killing strikes that would never land if the Great Spirit had anything to say about it.

I did a quick count, eyes scanning the still tableau.

I only saw three enemies engaged with Emilia, the one currently being impaled, and the two Puck was targeting. With seven assassins that had been pursuing me on the stage, that left five unaccounted for. Five masked killers somewhere in this plaza that I couldn't see.

Were they repositioning? Preparing spells for another volley? Circling around to cut off escape routes? 

Time would tell, I thought, and released my grasp on Reason and Judgment.

Reality snapped back into motion with jarring intensity. My boots continued to carry me forward, momentum unbroken, I ran for only a couple more seconds, just enough to be convincing, then I spun around mid-stride to face my pursuers.

Finally, a grin made its way onto my face as I got exactly what I wanted.

In their haste to close the distance and prevent my escape, the enemy had bunched together. Four assassins were rushing toward me in a tight cluster, their formation compressed just enough. Spirits floated beside them, and even as their masters ran, several spells instantly flashed into existence around the charging group, as they prepared to unleash hell.

But I cared not.

Indomitable flared to life inside my chest. The roaring star of my Authority elevated me from mortal to something greater, something beyond the limitations of flesh and physics. Power surged through every fiber of my being, making my blood sing and my nerves crackle with barely contained force. I found myself relishing in the feeling, that intoxicating rush of invincibility, of being utterly untouchable.

Then I slammed my foot through the stone floor of the plaza.

My boot tore through solid rock like it was nothing but water. The cobblestones exploded outward from the point of impact, chunks of stone and compressed earth erupting upward in a cone-shaped wave.

The sheer force rippled through the ground, tearing pavement apart with the sound of shattering thunder. I launched my improvised barrage of projectiles, dozens of stone fragments, some as small as pebbles, others as large as bricks, directly at my charging enemy.

The wave of deadly debris screamed toward them at impossible velocity.

The magic outlasted the lives of the casters by mere seconds. A rapid-fire barrage of flame spells arced over my wave of destruction, fireballs and fire lances that had already been released before their casters died. They impacted harmlessly around me, scorching cobblestones and raising clouds of smoke. The flash of brilliant light from what must have been an El Jiwald splashed directly over my face.

The beam washed across my features without effect. My skin didn't burn. My eyes didn't blind. The light simply... stopped, unable to touch me while Indomitable held firm.

The spirits and masked men of the four-man squad, on the other hand, were reduced to pulp.

Stone fragments shredded through cloth, flesh, and bone with equal ease. The assassins didn't even have time to scream before the barrage tore them apart, bodies jerking and crumpling as dozens of impacts hit simultaneously. Their contracted spirits winked out of existence in flashes of dispersing mana, the magical bonds severing the instant their masters died.

My smile continued to widen despite myself, until I was reminded that I couldn't keep the power running.

Indomitable faded from my body, the furnace of Pride going cold as I mentally willed it to stop. The intoxicating rush of invincibility drained away like water through a sieve, leaving behind the familiar weight of mortality. My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt the strain in my muscles, the burn in my lungs.

If I didn't shut it down, my heart would be destroyed long before the enemy ever got to me. The Authority's price was steep, and I couldn't afford to pay it recklessly..

Click

Reason and Judgment bent time to my will, and I once more assessed the situation with forced calm.

Three. That was all that remained of the initial force meant to kill me. 

The survivors were scattered and regrouping. My mental timer ticked silently in the corner of my awareness, thirty seconds until Indomitable could be used again without risking cardiac failure. 

I didn't even really need to kill them on my own, though I held little doubt I could manage it if pressed. 

No, I needed to get back to Emilia. That was the priority. My entire engagement past my separation from her on the stage had lasted exactly 2 minutes and 44 seconds according to my internal count. I couldn't see Emilia at the moment, but I didn't want to take any chances. Time was running out, the sun loomed low, just about to dip below the city's walls.

'Just need to get to her,' 

Time resumed and I finally drew my dagger from its hidden sheath beneath my scorched jacket. The blade slid free with a soft whisper. Not much reach, but it would have to do.

The three remaining assassins were currently performing wide flanking maneuvers, spreading out to attack from multiple angles. One positioned himself on my far left, using the wreckage of a destroyed stall for cover. Another mirrored him on my right. And the third came straight for me down the center.

Standard tactics. Divide my attention, force me to choose which threat to prioritize, then strike from the blind spots.

I felt for my gate, reaching inward to get a rough estimate on my mana reserves. What I found made my stomach sink.

My Flare had been a poorly cast spell, more mana spilled uselessly into the atmosphere than actually went into the construct itself. And of course the spell alone hadn't even been a proper, controlled casting. 

You weren't supposed to modify magic formulas on the go like that, weren't supposed to just pour power into a half-formed structure and hope it worked. Frankly, the thing should have detonated in my face with actual explosive force instead of just producing a flash of light.

I'd gotten lucky. Very lucky.

'Just means I'll have to make do with—'

Red liquid splattered to the ground before me, droplets hitting broken cobblestones with soft plinks that seemed impossibly loud in my ears.

My head dipped down in shock as I stared at something that shouldn't be present.

My white jacket had a dark spot on it, right below my ribs on the left side. And that spot was currently growing, spreading outward in a wet crimson bloom that soaked through the fabric with alarming speed.

Pain imposed itself upon me, not all at once, but in a wave that built with each heartbeat. A deep wrongness that emanated from the straight sword currently thrust through my gut. The blade had entered from behind, punching through jacket, shirt, skin, muscle. I could feel it inside me, foreign and terrible, the cold steel a violation that my body screamed against.

A thick, dark residue smeared the flat of the blade, distorting the reflection of the sky on the metal. It wasn't clean anymore; it was ruinous, wet with the heat of my body. The steel looked heavy, solid, and undeniably real, mocking the fragility of the flesh it had just parted.

I found myself wondering, with strange detached clarity, if these were the types of men who poisoned every weapon they used. Professional assassins usually did, didn't they? Coating blades in toxins to ensure even glancing cuts proved fatal. If the wound itself didn't kill me, would venom finish the job?

Would I even live long enough to figure that out?

'Twenty-five seconds.'

A small voice whispered in my ear, my own internal count, still ticking down even as my body began to fail. That's how long I had until Indomitable was available again. Twenty-five seconds until I could activate the Authority and make myself untouchable, unkillable.

My knees buckled slightly, legs suddenly struggling to support my weight. The dagger slipped from my fingers, clattering to the stones.

A rough kick found my back, boot slamming my lower spine with brutal force. My body pitched forward, blade forcefully removed from its improper sheathe. I fell face-first into stone, my cheek cracking against broken cobblestones hard enough to split skin. Stars exploded across my vision.

My body tried to curl into itself on instinct, knees drawing up, arms wrapping around my torso in a futile protective gesture. But the movement only made everything worse. Agony drowned my mind in white-hot waves as the wound shifted, as damaged tissue screamed in protest. The liquid life slipped from its container and pooled around my torso, spreading out beneath me in a growing dark stain. I could feel it, warm, sticky, too much of it leaving too fast.

Shadows loomed over me, blocking out what little light remained in the darkening plaza.

My killers stared down at me, three dark silhouettes against the evening sky. Their masks said nothing, blank white faces reflecting no emotion, no mercy, no triumph. Their voices remained silent. 

My hands clutched desperately at my bloody jacket, fingers slipping on wet fabric as I tried to stop the bleeding in a useless gesture. Pressure, apply pressure, that's what you were supposed to do, right? But my hands were shaking, weak, and there was so much blood—

For all my supposed power, for all my luck, for everything that had led up to this moment, my life on Earth, waking up here, taking in the Authority of Pride, the madness in the Royal Capital, Satella, time loops. 

I was still weak. Helpless, small and fragile and mortal.

I was going to die here. On cold stones, bleeding out while assassins watched, and Emilia was still out there fighting.

Where had I gone wrong?

The question drifted through my mind without real weight, more observation than actual inquiry. When had the choices I made led to this moment? Which step on the path had been the wrong one?

'It's so cold.'

At some point my eyes had closed, and I couldn't find it in me to open them. The effort seemed impossibly distant, like trying to move a mountain with my thoughts alone. My eyelids were too heavy. Everything was too heavy.

Thoughts flitted by like butterflies in the wind, their forms entirely controlled by the constant undercurrent of torment throbbing from my stomach. I couldn't hold onto any single idea for long, they'd appear, drift across my consciousness, then dissolve before I could grasp their meaning.

Family. Mom's voice calling me down for dinner. Dad laughing at some stupid joke I'd made.

Friends. Faces I could barely remember now, names that felt like they belonged to someone else's life.

Earth. The mundane miracle of grocery stores and blueberry muffins and choices that didn't end in blood pooling on cobblestones.

My original life. Everything that I had lost when reality winked out in that parking lot.

This world. Reinhard's impossible strength and genuine kindness. Emilia's determination to be better than what the world expected. Puck's protective devotion wrapped in a cat's cheerful exterior.

Everybody here I would lose. Was losing. Had already lost, in the time it took for a blade to punch through flesh.

This isn't what I wanted.

The thought carried a desperate, childish quality. A tantrum against the unfairness of it all. I'd survived the transition between worlds, survived taking in the Authority of Pride, the torture from the Witch of Envy—

And it didn't matter. None of it mattered. A single sword thrust had erased everything.

'Fifteen seconds,' a voice screamed from a small corner of my mind. Fifteen till what? 

Peace could be found just around the corner, couldn't it?

The thought whispered through my mind like a lover's promise. Eternal rest. No more pain, no more fear, no more struggling against impossible odds. All I had to do was give up. Stop thinking. Stop fighting. Give in to the darkness that was already pulling at the edges of my consciousness.

It would be so easy.

Something loud shattered nearby, or maybe far away, I couldn't tell anymore. Distance had stopped meaning anything. The sound registered as a spike of noise against the growing quiet, but I couldn't process what it was. Glass breaking? Ice cracking? Someone screaming?

It didn't matter.

It was getting colder. So, so cold. Colder than I'd ever felt before in my life, even counting that winter in Denver when the power went out for three days. This was different. This cold came from inside, spreading outward from my core as my body temperature dropped. As my heart struggled to pump blood that was no longer there.

The cold reminded me of Puck. How in an instant he could transform from the happy-go-lucky cat who made jokes and napped in sunbeams, to the Great Spirit of Ice that he truly was. Ancient and terrible and beautiful in his wrath.

He had bragged to me once, during one of our quieter moments, that he could freeze the whole world over if he wanted. Encase every living thing in ice, turn the planet into a frozen tomb. He'd said it casually, like commenting on the weather, but I'd seen the truth in his eyes. He absolutely could. And would, if anything happened to Emilia.

Maybe that's what this was.

Maybe Puck had already won his fight. Maybe he'd seen Emilia fall and made good on his promise. Maybe the cold eating through my body wasn't shock and blood loss but the Great Spirit freezing everything in sight, ending the world rather than living in one without his daughter.

It would explain why everything felt so distant. So quiet. So done.

The cold continued to spread, creeping through my limbs like frost across a window. My fingers had gone numb. My toes. My face.

'I'm sorry, Emilia,' I thought, though I didn't have the strength to say it aloud. 'I couldn't... I wasn't...'

The thought dissolved before I could finish it.

The darkness pulled harder, more insistent now. Welcoming. Promising an end to the cold and the pain and the crushing weight of failure.

Just let go. Just... let…

—

A thick snow descended over the industrial city of Costuul, falling in heavy sheets that obscured the evening sky. Weather that wasn't too atypical considering their close proximity to the northern nation Gusteko, winter came early and hard this far north, everyone knew that.

But this storm was wrong.

The day had been warm, sunny, and pleasant. And while the sun had indeed drifted from its place high in the sky, beginning its descent toward the horizon as evening approached, an instant snowstorm was far from normal. The temperature had plummeted in seconds, not hours. The sky had gone from clear to choked with falling snow in the span of a single breath.

People huddled in their homes, pulling shutters closed against the unnatural cold, whispering prayers to the Divine Dragon or whatever gods they believed in that this wasn't what they feared it might be.

In the center of the city, far from the industrial parks with their smoking chimneys or the magi towers where scholars studied arcane formulas, a girl collapsed to her knees.

Her amethyst eyes were wide and unseeing, staring at something that existed beyond the physical world. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp, breath misting in the suddenly frigid air. For she had glimpsed that which she never desired to see again, that terrible severing, that horrible emptiness where warmth and life had been only moments before.

With her father finally at rest, his fury and energy spent, and the surrounding city curiously quiet in the wake of whatever battle had just concluded, there was nobody to console the girl who felt like she had just lost everything.

She knelt there in the frozen-over pool of red, crimson ice spreading outward from a central point like a grotesque flower. Her hands brushed idly, almost reverently, through the soft snow-white hair of a man who had fallen to a cruel reality. His cold body was pulled tight against her still form, cradled in her arms like something precious and fragile. She tried, uselessly, desperately, to instill some form of warmth into him, rubbing his arms, pressing her forehead to his, breathing against his too-pale face.

But there was nothing. No pulse. No breath. No flicker of response.

Just cold.

"I promised to stay by your side."

She whispered it to him, the words barely audible over the whipping wind that howled through the streets, carrying snow in blinding spirals. 

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you…"

The snow continued to fall, covering them both in a blanket of white. Covering the blood, the shattered buildings, and the scattered bodies of assassins who had paid for this attack with their lives. Covering everything in silent, eternal cold.

Emilia held him tighter, and began to cry.

She had come to this city with her partner to take the first step on the road to a better nation. To show the world that her appearance, the silver hair and amethyst eyes that marked her as kin to the Witch of Envy, didn't consign her to that cursed name.

That she could be more than what they saw. More than what they feared.

But as the city continued to freeze over, ice creeping up buildings and across streets, frost claiming everything it touched, most would only scream that it was true.

For the snow came not from the Great Spirit within the emerald green glintstone hanging by her neck. It came from Emilia herself.

She was a Witch. Nothing but a monster wearing a girl's face.

The half-devil they'd always known her to be.

And so she beheld an unthinkable present.

—

Subaru Natsuki collapsed to his knees the moment he laid eyes upon Arlam village. His arms burned with the strain of carrying her for so long, muscles screaming in protest, but he refused to let go of his precious cargo. His fingers locked tighter around her slight frame, knuckles white with desperate effort.

As exhausted as the boy was, legs trembling, lungs gasping for air after running for what felt like miles, it wasn't his body failing him from exertion that dropped him to the ground.

It was the flames licking the late night sky.

The smell of smoke and burnt something, wood, fabric, flesh, he didn't want to know, that made his stomach heave and his vision swim.

The wrongness of it all threatened to break him.

Arlam village burned.

Each house was torched, engulfed in orange and red that painted the night sky with hellish light. Roofs collapsed inward with crashes that sent sparks spiraling upward. Walls crumbled. Everything was in the process of burning to the ground, consumed by fire that spread with unnatural hunger.

The sight seared itself into his eyes, branding the image onto his retinas where it would live forever. For this was the first time he'd ever seen such widespread destruction. Not in person. Not real. Video games and movies didn't prepare you for the smell, for the heat that made the air shimmer even from this distance, for the horrible certainty that people had been inside those buildings when the flames came.

He prayed that the girl had been lying to him. That Meili had simply been twisting the knife, trying to break him with false horrors.

But what would she have to lie for?

She'd already won.

Rem lay in his arms, her body impossibly light and yet impossibly heavy. Bite marks covered her entire body, her arms, her legs, her neck, deep punctures that thankfully scabbed over for the most part. Her maid uniform was shredded, soaked through with crimson. And her breathing... her breathing was so faint you could mistake her for dead. The shallow rise and fall of her chest barely visible, each breath a labored gasp that seemed like it might be her last.

Subaru didn't know what was wrong with her besides the obvious wounds. But in the moments before the blue-haired girl had passed out, she'd told him to run. To leave her behind and save himself.

To get back to Beatrice, for she would be able to help him.

Of course, he couldn't do that.

How could he leave Rem behind, after she'd fought so furiously to give him the chance to escape? After she'd thrown herself between him and those monsters without hesitation, taking wounds meant for him, buying him seconds with her own blood?

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So he'd run with her weight in his arms, stumbling through the dark forest, following the path back toward the village because he didn't know where else to go.

And now...

The smoke of the burning village stung his eyes. Or was that the tears streaming down his face as he knelt there in the dirt, watching everything burn?

He didn't know. Couldn't tell anymore where physical pain ended and soul-deep anguish began.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Forcing himself to his feet with a grunt of effort, Subaru secured Rem in his arms again, adjusting his grip so her head rested against his shoulder. Then he kicked off into the hellscape, stumbling forward on legs that threatened to buckle with every step.

Blood stains painted the dirt roads in dark smears. Arrows were embedded in wooden walls at odd angles. Dead beasts, demon dogs with their jaws frozen in snarls, lay sprawled in unnatural positions, their bodies already beginning to cool.

It all painted a grim picture of chaos and violence that had swept through like a storm.

But he held onto the faint thread of hope that people had gotten away. Arlam was a fairly large village, after all. And the people here were bright, resourceful. They'd survived in the shadow of the forest for generations. They knew how to run, how to hide, how to protect their own.

Maybe they'd fled to the mansion. Maybe Roswaal had evacuated them. Maybe—

It was as he rushed into the town square that he unwittingly slowed down, his desperate sprint faltering into an uncertain walk, then stopping altogether.

There was a bonfire present in the central plaza.

The place where all the kind people of Arlam gathered. Where the children played tag between market stalls. Where the elderly sat on benches and shared gossip. Where the farmers and loggers came to trade goods and share news. Where all those friendly faces would smile at him, genuinely smile, not with pity or false facades like back in Japan, but with actual warmth, as he convinced more and more people each morning to take up his radio calisthenics routine.

That spot of simple happiness, of community and belonging he'd fought so hard to earn.

In its place was a group of men gathered around a roaring fire. Rough-looking men in mismatched armor and crude weapons, their faces flushed with drink and firelight. They were celebrating. Laughing. Dancing in jerky, drunken movements.

The source of fuel for their bonfire was that which his mind violently, desperately refused to identify.

But he could see it anyway. Couldn't not see it, no matter how hard he tried to look away.

Shapes in the flames. Wrong shapes. Shapes that had once been—

No.

No.

His body and brain rejected this reality vehemently, every cell screaming denial. That the men he was currently staring at, mercenaries, bandits, monsters wearing human skin, would be dancing and partying around a bonfire fueled from the bodies of his friends.

The old man who'd tried to teach him how to properly grip an axe for splitting wood.

The woman who'd given him fresh bread a couple days ago, telling him he looked too thin.

The children who'd laughed at his jokes that didn't translate, but happily played along with him regardless of his strange quirks.

All of them. All of them.

Feeding the flames while these bastards celebrated.

Something broke inside Subaru in that moment. Something fundamental that he'd need later but couldn't afford to keep right now.

The tears stopped. The trembling stopped.

And his eyes went cold.

A distraction to draw them away, maybe a noise, a thrown stone. A plank of wood, partially burnt, heavy enough to crack a skull. No, better, a kitchen knife from one of the abandoned houses. Small, concealable, sharp. And he would begin systematically—

A short, choked cough in his arms snapped him from his darkening thoughts.

Ducking out of view of the monsters who continued hooting and hollering around their obscene fire, Subaru looked down at the girl cradled against his chest.

A thin dribble of blood trailed from Rem's lips, dark and viscous in the firelight. It trickled down the side of her once-cherubic face, following the curve of her jaw. The sight of it, so wrong on features that were supposed to smile, slammed into his heart with the weight of a semi-truck.

He gently wiped the crimson ichor away with his sleeve, smearing it across the fabric. His own teeth bit into his lip so hard it bled, copper flooding his mouth. The pain helped. Kept him focused.

He had to get to Beatrice. Had to help Rem. Had to make sure he didn't lose anybody else tonight.

The men around the fire could wait. Revenge could wait. Rem couldn't.

And so he ran.

He ran even harder than he'd run through the forest with the mabeasts nipping at his heels, their hot breath on his neck and their claws tearing at his clothes. Harder than he'd run from Meili, her childish laughter echoing through the woods like something from a fever dream.

His legs pumped mechanically, eating up distance. His lungs screamed for air he couldn't give them. His arms locked around Rem like iron bands, refusing to loosen no matter how much they burned.

He ran through the exit of the village, past the last burning house, leaving the nightmare behind. He ran up the long stretch of dirt road that led to the manor, the path he'd walked so many times feeling impossibly long now. He ran, and ran, and ran. His mind a mess of fragmented thoughts and blurry panic.

'Don't die don't die don't die please don't die—'

Only when he came upon the wrought-iron gate of Roswaal's manor did he pause, stumbling to a halt. His body bent double, heaving deep lungfuls of air that didn't seem to reach his lungs properly. Spots danced across his vision. His legs trembled so badly he nearly collapsed.

The full moon was high in the night sky now, maybe it was getting close to midnight, time having lost all meaning in the chaos. The clouds that had been choking the sky earlier had parted, allowing pale moonlight to illuminate the darkness around him in shades of silver and shadow.

The one peaceful moment in this demented nightmare.

Pushing the gate open with his foot, the hinges creaking in protest, he looked down at Rem. Gently, with shaking fingers, he brushed the matted red and blue hair from her face, revealing her usually hidden right eye. Her breathing was still there, chest rising and falling in shallow movements, but just as faint as before. Maybe worse than the last time he'd checked.

How much blood had she lost? How much time did she have left?

It was only as he passed the threshold of the manor gate, stepping onto the grounds proper, that he felt something shift.

Like somebody had just decided to wring every internal organ in his body and squeeze them like wet rags. His insides twisted, a sensation so fundamentally wrong that his brain couldn't process it as pain, just wrongness, something that shouldn't be happening.

Vomit. That's all Subaru could do.

Every little thing that was in his stomach came rushing up his throat, bile, the remnants of his last meal, everything. It splattered out all over Rem's unconscious body, soaking into her already blood-stained uniform. He couldn't stop it, couldn't even turn his head away.

He fell to his knees, strength completely sapped from his body as if someone had pulled a plug. His vision suddenly went double, then triple, the manor's entrance multiplying before his eyes in dizzying repetition. It was all he could do not to fall face-first onto the dying girl, his arms locked in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

'What the fuck, what the fuck is happening—?'

The unexpected bout of what he would only describe as death seemed to ebb away after several agonizing seconds, leaving him confused, hurt, and terrified in equal measure. His hands pressed against the ground, holding himself up on trembling arms.

A grunt of pain came from Rem.

Subaru could only stare in horror as she began to convulse. Her body seized, back arching, limbs jerking in uncontrolled spasms. Blood trailed from both her nose and her mouth, quickly turning to pink foam as her breathing became rapid and wet.

"No, Rem, no, please—"

His hands raised instinctively to help her, to turn her on her side, to do something, until he found that it was only his hands planted on the ground that had been holding him upright at all. Without that support, gravity claimed him immediately.

Subaru fell to his side, his body hitting the dirt path hard. His eyes remained locked on Rem's seizing form with absolute terror, unable to look away even as his own body began to fail. He couldn't move. Couldn't reach for her. Couldn't do anything.

Then that sick feeling overtook his mind again, crashing over him like a wave.

Like his life was being physically pulled right out of him, drawn away by invisible hands. His stomach expelled what little it could, just bile and acid now, burning his throat. His breath came in rapid gagging pulls, each one weaker than the last. Any higher form of thinking was snuffed out like a candle, his mind reduced to animal panic and the desperate, futile need for air.

'Can't breathe can't breathe can't—'

It was as the third pulse hit, that horrible wrenching sensation tearing through his chest, and his body had nothing more to give out, that he realized something with sudden clarity.

His heart, too, had nothing more to give.

The muscle that had been hammering frantically against his ribs began to slow. One beat. Another. The rhythm becoming erratic, stuttering.

Then stopping.

The last thing Subaru saw before his eyes closed was Rem's hand, pale and bloodstained, mere inches from his own.

So close.

Too far.

Then nothing.

—

Author's Note:

15k words, what the hell am I doing here?!

Can't say I'm particularly happy with how this one came out. It's hard for me to write something with the explicit goal of eventually killing my main cast. I worry I made Ethan's death seem too... simple?

He passed out from blood loss pretty quick, and then died without being able to use his Authority which was still on cooldown. I didn't really want to right some sudden power-up, where he's suddenly able to go plus ultra, dunno.

Writing the scene and trying to juggle all these details certainly makes appreciate Tappei and other writer's skills even more. 

Anyway, hope it wasn't too egregiously bad, and sorry for the massive hiatus. Term is coming to a close for college, and real life takes priority. 

Much love to, idksomeguy578, Basic_Zelpha, Grizzly_Void, and a couple other names that slip my mind, for the power stones even when I ain't been doing shit. I appreciate you a ton, and I hope my writing quality hasn't diminished.