1

Along the shores of the Edrian Bay, overlooking its cerulean waters, spread Efastopol, the peaceful capital of Luctretz, basking under the unobstructed morning sun. Across the city, south from the royal castle and its white towers, by a quiet avenue, stood the Ministry of Defense, sharing quarters with the central command of the armed forces. On the topmost fourth floor of the long marble building, in an office facing the serene bay, the Minister himself was busily at work, the same as any other morning.

Adolan Lancaster was a man committed to his duties to the point that he could be seen coming to work even on his rare days off. The growing Imperial threat had made him thrice as reluctant to stay at home, and the continued messages of unrest from abroad made him lose sleep. As a former military officer himself, the Minister maintained good relations with the army command, and was by all appropriate standards the most capable man for the job. In his own mind, in particular. In fact, he was constantly haunted by the fear that without his constant personal input, the whole principality would fall onto the palm of her enemies like a ripened fruit.

Yes, it was certainly only a matter of time before neighboring Tratovia would launch an invasion, a decade in the making. Numerous other lands had fallen under this enemy's influence in the recent years, even the fearsome Dharva, and the Imperial momentum showed no sign of stopping.

Rather than pondering whether or not they already had spies in the Ministry, the court, and the Royal Army, it was better to ask how many. In all likelihood, even some of the Prince’s closest confidants had been bought off, and were now diligently dispatching pigeons and couriers to locations near the eastern border. Before Lancaster could even begin to weed out the moles, he had to first ascertain who he could trust, and that was no easy task in these uncertain times. All this while conducting his normal day-to-day duties as a Minister.

Sighing heavily, Lancaster turned from the window and the soothing view to the Edrian Bay, which dozens of swan-white sails decorated, and reluctantly turned to the stack of files on his desk.

As soon as he had sat down, a knock came from the door.

“Come in,” Minister Lancaster called out, picking up his pen.

“Pardon me,” a male voice announced his entry.

The voice belonged to Jorhan Elleroy, a Brigadier General in charge of the Royal Army’s Capital Division. It being a somewhat uneventful duty, General Elleroy had also taken upon himself to gather and arrange reports from around the principality. Though they were closely acquainted, it was only very rarely that the General made the trip to Lancaster’s office from the opposing wing of the spacious building. And whenever he did so, it was mostly in order to pass on information to the Ministry, and through the Ministry to the Court, rather than for any personal purpose. Therefore, Lancaster made no particular note of the General’s arrival and continued to move his fountain pen, to sign the various documents that required his swift approval.

However, the General’s restrained tone soon caught Lancaster’s attention.

“Adolan, I want you to have a look at this.”

Passing through the room, Elleroy brought over a red-covered file, which he held out over the desk, thus hiding the documents on it. Staring at the file for a moment, the Minister made no effort to receive it, but looked up at General Elleroy, not hiding his displeasure.

“What is it?” he asked, expecting a better introduction.

“A report that came in earlier this morning,” the thick-mustached General in his navy blue uniform replied. “From Grelden.”

“Grelden?” Minister Lancaster repeated.

“Yes,” the General affirmed. “Apparently, the town guard ran into a somewhat odd case, and they want our opinion on how to best proceed. To be frank with you, I don’t know what to make of it.”

“What happened?” The Minister leaned back in his black leather chair with a frown, now taking the file and opening it. There were several pages of documentary by the town guard inside.

“A man was found murdered,” General Elleroy proceeded to summarize. “Certain Airen of Yooth, a known troublemaker and a vagabond.”

“Ah, Airen. I’ve heard about the man,” Lancaster said. “A former war veteran. Killed his own wife and daughter in a drunken stupor, then went around challenging people into duels while on the run from the authorities. I didn’t know he was back in Luctretz—or still alive. It’s quite the trip he’s made, across the continent.”

“Yes,” the General grimly nodded. “Besides dueling, Airen worked as a mercenary, I’ve heard. Took on odd jobs in rural areas, hunting dangerous beasts, supposedly as means to atone for his crimes. Or just because he was a lunatic addicted to bloodshed and killing. I couldn’t say. I don’t presume to understand how his kind thinks.”

“It’s not a terrible surprise to me that such a man would find himself at the wrong end of a sword,” Minister Lancaster commented. “What am I expected to think of this case then? What is so ‘odd’ about it?”

“Well, the odd part isn’t that such a man died. It’s more the manner in which he passed that’s queer.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to the Grelden watch, Airen’s body was found in an alleyway, gutted with his own blade. While he still held onto it.”

“Then it was a suicide?” The Minister raised his brows. “I should not think that so strange.”

“So I assumed as well, when I first heard the news, but...the coroner’s report and the guards’ testimonies make this incident a little too strange for comfort. The man was nearly cut in two, from the crotch up, and then pinned into the wall of a nearby building with his weapon. It does not seem very plausible, that he did such a thing to himself.”

“Not really,” Lancaster shuddered, picturing the scene. “Not the way you described it, no.”

“Exactly.” The General returned him a meaningful look.

“So you believe someone else killed Airen and framed the murder as a suicide, doing a piss poor job at it? Do we have any suspects then?”

“No, not at the moment, but…”

The General’s uncharacteristic timidity was starting to get on the Minister’s nerves.

“Well? Is there something you’re not telling me? Be direct with me, Elleroy.”

“For the time being, we have no suspects. No witnesses. No clues. Apparently, nobody saw or heard a damned thing. And who could have done such a deed? To overpower a fighter as experienced as Airen, and shove a sword through solid stone—that doesn’t seem like something possible for a human being.”

“For a human? What are insinuating?”

“Well...A rather unsettling rumor has been going around. You see, they say that this Airen fellow was hunting a beast of rather exceptional nature, and that it was his pursuit of it that brought the man to Grelden. A...a daemon, a foe from ancient legends. He was asking a lot of questions about such a creature.”

“A daemon!” Lancaster snorted. “What next? Midgets and magic rings?”

“Ah, yes...I’m aware of how it sounds,” General Elleroy spoke with some shame in his voice. “And my reaction was the very same, at first. However, you have to admit that the timing is quite uncanny. It was barely a month ago that we received a notice from the Tratovian embassy, that such a monster—a daemon—was on the loose and within our territory.”

“Oh, I remember,” the Minister grew more serious. “They even went as far as to offer military aid to track down and deal with the creature. By the Lords! The stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my career! Do they take us for utter fools?”

Recalling that particular message, Lancaster got up and turned to the window. He needed to see the bay to calm his nerves. That picturesque sea view never failed to soothe his agitation.

“Should we tell the Prince of this?” Elleroy cautiously asked. “Have the Ministry inform Langoria, just in case? This happened close to their border, after all, and—”

“—You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lancaster interrupted the General, impatiently turning back.

“Adolan...?”

“It’s clear what they’re after, isn’t it? Don’t you see?” The Minister gave his friend an incredulous glance. Sometimes, Elleroy could be incredibly dense. “This is their tactics! The Imperials had their agents murder Airen and set this up. They want to scare us with their ludicrous fairy tale about monsters, and then expect us to receive their ‘aid’—which involves letting their troops pass through our borders unchecked. Then, they go on to man all the key positions, occupy every strategic location, and the next thing we know, it's their flag waving outside the window! Please. We’re not quite as stupid as to fall for that. Not a word of this to anyone, Elleroy. Send gag order to Grelden at once. I don’t want the town guard spreading this ludicrous gossip any more than they already have and incite panic in the population. The common people are gullible. They’ll buy anything, and once they turn on us, greeting the Imperials as their saviors, it’ll be the end of our sovereign nation.”

“But,” the General hesitated. “What if it’s true…?”

By the Lords! Lancaster almost cried out loud, but masterfully contained himself. Instead, he faced the soldier and asked in an amicable tone,

“Tell me, Elleroy, have you ever seen a daemon with your own eyes?”

“N-no, I haven’t...” the General admitted.

“Do you personally know anyone who has ever seen a daemon?” the Minister continued to ask.

“No. I do not.”

“Have you ever even heard of anyone who has met a daemon?”

“Not really, now that I think of it. No.”

“Have you heard anyone so much as speak the word, ‘daemon’, unironically, before the Imperials got started with this nonsense nary a month ago?”

“...No, can’t say I have.”

“Do you know what daemons look like?”

The General made a helpless sigh. “No. Look, I get it—”

“—So why would this be one? Give me one good reason to believe that.”

Feeling very stupid and ashamed of himself, General Elleroy shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Adolan. I...I don’t know what went into me. I should’ve known better.”

“Don’t worry,” Minister Lancaster said, sitting back down again. He took the file from Grelden, held it over the trash bin under his table, and let go.

“Happens to the best of us.”

2

Close to the border between Ludgwert and Tratovia, on the former’s side, was a little village called Branola. A collection of simple wooden farmhouses, surrounded by a pair of sky-blue windmills, the town rested on the gentle, ever-green slopes beneath the southernmost peaks of the Abzerim range. Following two days’ ride along the emiri highway, the travelers reached across the Henglog, which would have taken them closer to two months on foot, finally coming to rest and resupply at Branola.

Seeing humans and human lands after so long felt too good to be true.

Meanwhile, what would become of Alderia?

Not even Carmelia could answer this question, nor did she even wish to attempt it. Naturally, keeping the theories to herself didn’t mean she had no idea. Anyone could surmise as much. The Royal Palace, the flagship of the Sihlruén was destroyed, the knowledge and tools to rebuild it gone. The legendary fleet could never again be effectively assembled or directed in battle. Erekhigan was dead, his ingenuity removed from the world, his research lost in a sea of flames. With him, any hope of repopulation was also removed. Perhaps there would come a day when the emiri could have children again by conventional means, but such a miracle looked distant and unlikely at this point. Their hope, the Dawnstar, had left Alderia, to swear herself to a human man. Would she go on to outlive her husband and one day return to her birthplace, or had the human heritage in the girl left her days similarly numbered, no one could say yet. Only time would tell.

Either way, at this heavy cost, mankind had bought an extension to their time.

Though their numbers were heavily reduced, the travelers had lived to tell the tale.

For this, they considered themselves blessed.

—“So, what are you going to do from now on?” Millanueve de Guillon inquired Izumi. The pair strolled downhill through the town, early in the morning following their arrival, getting ready to move on. The day was clear, partly clouded, but altogether bright and pleasant.

The terrors of the journey had left their mark on the young knight’s face, robbing her blue eyes of the innocent, unsuspecting shine of youth. Yet, at the same time, faith in the future had returned to her gaze again, and vitality in her voice.

“Will you not come with us to Ludgwert?” Millanueve asked the woman beside her. “Or do they need you in the Empire?”

“Oh, I have no plans,” Izumi replied. “I’m not rotting alive anymore, so I suppose I’m free to go wherever. The next item on the to-do list is to get filthy rich and famous, but I suppose that can wait.”

“What kind of a list is that…?” Millanueve chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about riches, but I dare say you won’t go hungry in Ludgwert. Our cattle is healthy and in good numbers, and our crops were good this year. Our vineyards as well are famous even throughout the Empire.”

“You may have convinced me," Izumi replied. "Hope they won’t ask for IDs in this world, since I don’t have any, and this baby face might not pass. No, not that I’m complaining, mind you! If anything, I'm lucky. It’s definitely a compliment, to have the clerk ask your age!”

“What are you talking about?” Millanueve laughed. “Anyway, I thought you would be agreeable to my proposal—suggestion, I mean! Ahem, my brother is getting the horses ready as we speak. Of course, Sir Waramoti is welcome to join us, if he wants to. The more, the merrier, I'm sure.”

“Speaking of which, I wonder if he’s still going to keep stalking me?” Izumi pondered. “That new appearance of his takes some getting used to.”

“Tell me about it!” Millanueve exclaimed. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him! No one’s going to believe who he is anymore!”

“Thank goodness I didn’t drink that elixir. It would be five times as hard to build a harem if I got turned into a loli again.”

“Seriously, you’re going to get into serious trouble if you keep saying such things—”

——“AAAH! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”

The two women’s idle chatter was suddenly interrupted by a terrified cry.

A local boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen summers old, was running towards them from downhill, his face distorted in terror. He ran as fast as he was able, stumbling along the way, while desperately calling for help. Had a wild monster appeared? Had the elves chased them here? Izumi already reached for the handle of her sword.

However, her suspicions appeared to be mistaken.

“W-what is it?” Millanueve stopped the boy and questioned him. “What happened?”

“At t-t-t-the barn…!” the youth stammered, nearly too shocked to get the words out. “I—he’s going to…! He’s…he’s...Aaah…! He’s killing…!”

Izumi, overcome with sudden dread, deemed it was faster to go see for herself, and went running downhill, towards the barn the boy had mentioned.

“Wait up!” Millanueve called after her, following shortly behind.

The barn in question stood on the southern limit of the village, facing the wide pastures between Branola and the marshland. As an extension to the cattle side in the T-shaped building were the stables, which housed the few horses of the town, two of which the Ludgwertans were to borrow for the trip home.

Dashing to the open doorway of the stable side, Izumi braced herself for whatever threat that could emerge in a world of fantastic races and magical creatures, her senses heightened by the tension. But, the sight that awaited her left the woman stupefied in a way no monstrosity could.

On the filthy stone floor, in the light cast through the side exit, were two figures locked in a bitter struggle. A young man, and an even younger girl under him.

There could be no mistake of it.

The two were Alexander de Guillon and Naliya. Though they had supposedly become lovers, there was no love or even lust visible in their vicious embrace. Rather, the man had both his hands on the girl’s slim neck, squeezing it with his knuckles white, fury and grief competing to dominate his expression.

As if he was trying to kill her.

No, he was by all means killing her.

That completely one-sided abuse could not even be called a fight. And though it made no sense whatsoever, the scene was undeniably real and happening.

With few quick leaps, Izumi reached the pair and started to peel the knight’s hands off the elf. At the same time, Waramoti emerged from the barn side and came to assist her in the effort. Alexander’s unrestrained rage made the task far from simple even for the two of them, but soon enough, Millanueve caught up, and together they managed to separate the couple.

“What are you doing!?” Millanueve shrieked at her brother, shoving him down. “What were you thinking!?”

“That whore…!” Alexander roared in response, barely regaining some semblance of sanity. “I saw her…! I saw her—making out with some farmhand, when my back was turned! That...that traitorous little bitch…!”

“What are you talking about!?”

Izumi wasn’t listening.

“Damn it…!”

She crouched by Naliya’s body, as the girl laid on the cold floor, unconscious, the bruising markings of his fingers still visible on her throat. Bringing her ear to the girl’s lips, Izumi tried to pick up any sign of breathing, but found none. Then, feeling the chest, she looked for a pulse, but could feel nothing there either.

“Oh no, what do I do…? CPR, CPR...”

“How could she do this to me—to us!?” Alexander continued to rave in the background. “After everything we went through, after everything I did for her sake, this is how she repays me!? I risked my life for her, and that little slut betrays me…! Pretending to love me, saying all those sweet, beautiful things—none of it ever meant a thing! All lies! She was just a beast all along, like the rest of her kind!”

“Shut up!” Millanueve yelled at him.

Izumi continued her attempts at resuscitation, blinded and deafened to all else. She had rudimentary first aid training, but blowing air into Naliya’s lungs did not revive her, nor did chest compressions make her heart resume its beat.

“Come on...Breathe, breathe…!”

Nevertheless, Izumi refused to give up. The idea of this beautiful being suffering such an unjust end was intolerable. Next to it, her own future and dreams seemed petty and worthless. If there was any chance she could have given up her own life just to save this one, she would have taken it without hesitation.

Alas, no such way existed, or even if one did, she had no knowledge of it.

Eventually, Izumi was brought back to her senses by a calming hand on her shoulder.

Stopping, she looked aside and up, to see Carmelia stand beside her. The sorceress slowly shook her head.

“It’s no use.”

“What…?”

“Her soul has fled its vessel. She is gone.”

Izumi sat on the ground, dumbfounded, the words gradually sinking in. Meanwhile, Carmelia moved past the woman and crouched, lightly touching Naliya’s head.

“Erekhigan gave her exceptional magical potential and learning capacity, but his technique was not yet finished. The tradeoff was physical frailty and imbalance of spirit. Slightest shock could sever the soul’s bond with the body, ending her. This is why the emiri guarded her so jealously, never allowing outside contact. Rather, it was very brave of her to last for as long as she did.”

“How could this be…?” Millanueve whispered in dismay, covering her mouth.

“W-what about...the rune? My magic!” Izumi exclaimed, clinging to the sorceress’s arm. “Can I still…?”

She trailed off, seeing the sorceress’s expression.

“No might in this world can bring back the dead. And Ohrm, I fear, can be applied to self only.”

“That’s...”

“I will take care of this.”

The Court Wizard proceeded to pick up Naliya’s body, and walked out of the barn, heading for her carriage that awaited a short distance away. Still struggling to come to terms with the situation, Izumi got up, confounded, and went after the cirelo, Waramoti quietly following suit.

“I...I didn’t know,” Alexander spoke up, swallowing. Apparently, the pause had allowed his overflowing agitation to simmer down, and the awareness of what he had done had hit him. “Look, I didn’t mean to kill her! I didn’t know she would die so easily! I—I lost myself. I got so angry, because of what I saw, and wanted to punish her, that’s all. You have to believe me…”

Izumi stopped in her tracks.

Talk about losing yourself.

She had thought she didn’t feel particularly anything other than sad, but found that impression mistaken. She turned around, faced Alexander, and reached for her sword.

——“You’re dead, kid.”

Drawing the Amygla, Izumi stepped forward, ignoring the bystanders’ shocked looks. Recognizing that she was completely serious, the young knight turned to flee, only to stumble on a pebble in his distress.

“Wait!” he raised his hand and shrieked, crawling back. “Please don’t kill me! I’m sorry! I told you, I didn’t mean it! It was an accident! I’m sorry!”

Izumi wasn’t listening.

Raising her blade, she cut down without mercy.

CLANG——!

Instead of the young man’s skull, Izumi’s blow was received by steel. At the last moment, Millanueve had thrown herself between the two and blocked Izumi’s strike, holding her blade up between her hands.

“Don’t do it!” the girl shouted.

“Out of my way!” Izumi yelled back.

Naturally, there was no way Millanueve could obey such a command.

“What he did was horrible. Unforgivable!” she said. “But he’s still my brother! I can’t let you kill him!”

“I said get out of the way!”

“Lady Carmelia!” Millanueve called for back-up, feeling her strength fail as Izumi steadily increased the pressure. “Please, you have to help me! I can’t stop her on my own!”

“My faith in humanity isn’t particularly high right now,” the sorceress replied without stopping. “In fact, I can barely contain my urge to kill the lot of you.”

“Sir Waramoti!” Millanueve turned her eyes next to the bard. “Please!”

“What do you expect me to do, in the guise of a powerless child myself?” Waramoti shrugged. “Besides, I am ultimately only an observer, a recorder. There is no role for me in this tale, neither as a hero nor a villain.”

“Kh...”

There was no hope. Millanueve faced Izumi again, with only despair left in her expression.

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “Please don’t make me fight you.”

But the cold wrath in Izumi showed no sign of subsiding.

After the mountain of corpses she had walked through, what was one more?

After the countless souls she had released from their shells, what was one more?

After failing the love and faith of so many she had cared for—what was one more?

If she could only ever take lives instead of saving them, then she could at least murder to balance the scales of justice.

“Step aside,” Izumi repeated. “I will never forgive that guy, for as long as I live.”

Closing her eyes, Millanueve bit her lip. Bit down, hard enough to draw blood.

“Fine.”

In the next moment, Millanueve’s rapier disappeared.

Giving off a momentary, bright shine, like reflecting the clouded sun, the blade flashed past Izumi, and the pressure she was pushing against vanished. The girl stepped past her and drew back. Shortly after, Izumi felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder, and a searing hot sensation spread also across her side. The cause were the two cuts she had received, which had somehow breached her guard.

“...What kind of crap is this?” Izumi felt her side, finding her fingers coated in blood. Millanueve had lacked the will to kill, only inflicting shallow wounds. That softness only added to Izumi’s anger.

Millanueve raised her rapier back up, positioning herself between her brother and Izumi again.

“Magic sword Magellan—this is my family blade, passed through generations,” she said. “It can be made as a ray of the sun, and will pass through anything at will, stone or steel. Once invoked, nothing can guard against it, not even your sword. Please stop this madness, Izumi. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Don’t explain your techniques to the enemy!” Izumi groaned. “Ohrm!”

Activating the Rune of Restoration, Izumi recovered her wounds.

It was morning, Ohrm’s effectiveness was at maximum capacity—the cuts on her shoulder and side were sealed in an instant, the spilled blood absorbed. Seeing it, Millanueve’s resolve wavered.

“I am not your enemy!” the girl appealed. “And killing my brother won’t bring Naliya back!”

“Why should he live when she’s dead?”

“So that he may atone for his crime!”

“He can atone in pieces!” Losing her patience, Izumi charged.

If the opponent’s weapon could turn immaterial, then it couldn’t be used in the wielder’s defense either. The magic rapier could have been powerful in the hands of one skilled at feints and evasive arts, but in the grip of a conventional knight, it was virtually useless.

The appropriate counter was obvious——to go straight for the kill.

If every attack was going to be fatal, then the weapon’s holder would have no chance to employ the blade’s power. The fight boiled down to seizing the initiative, which was ever awarded to the bold and despised the merciful.

Yet, before victory, Izumi found herself wishing for death instead.

The strength she had sought, she had begun to loathe.

She hated her eyes for finding the weaknesses in others.

She hated her twisted mind, which kept coming up with ways to murder with the casual ease of a hobbyist solving crossword puzzles, as if life and death were only binary numbers in a video game. She hated the competitive spirit burning in her heart, which didn’t allow her to lose, even on purpose. She hated her arms, her hands, her fingers, which only felt comfortable gripping steel, and didn’t know how to comfort a grieving person.

If only it had been different.

If only she had been different.

Then perhaps she could have led a happy life—even without ever coming to another world.

But such reflections had no place here.

Izumi raised her sword. Millanueve pointed hers ahead, her spirit on the brink of breaking.

And then, everything was settled.

“——Eh?” Izumi’s hands stopped mid-swing.

She looked ahead, past Millanueve’s blonde curls, at the young man cowering behind her. At the same time, Alexander looked down, at his chest, where a crimson, steadily growing spot had appeared. A thin metal spike was protruding through his shirt. Guided by the sense of pain in his back, he twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder.

“What…?”

Behind Alexander was a boy even younger than he was. A local youth, who had been working at the stables. In his hands was the iconic farming tool, with which deft hands could easily handle vast masses of hay. Instead of being used for their intended purpose, the two prongs had pierced the knight’s unprotected back.

“...She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” the boy grunted, the resolve to murder steadying his voice, tears streaming endlessly from under the messed bangs. “I thought she was a Divine messenger from Heaven! So I asked if I could have a kiss. Just a little kiss...! And for that, you...you killed her—!”

Dropping the pitchfork, the boy backed up a step, turned, and ran off.

“Wait…!” Alexander tried to turn, to call the boy back, looking for words of apology, but the debilitating pain forced him back on his knees.

The wound of one prong would have been survivable, if not for the second, which had punctured his heart. Groaning, Alexander fell, reaching in vain for the weapon stuck in his back.

“Brother...Alex!” Millanueve dropped her rapier and ran to her brother’s side, trying to keep him upright. “Alexander!”

“Khh..gh...” Unable to even speak anymore, his brain losing oxygen, the young man rapidly succumbed to the darkness coming for him. His hand reached upward, groping air, as if searching for something unseen, and then fell.

They could only watch him go.

“No...No, no, no…!” Millanueve cradled her brother in her arms, trying to convince herself that this hideous nightmare was only temporary, and soon proven a lie by the coming of a genuine morning.

Watching it happen, Izumi put away her sword. Her anger had dissipated like a fading bonfire under autumn rain. Justice was served, in a way more fitting than she could have achieved. The target of vengeance taken from her, she could only move on however she was able. And, determined to do just that, she turned to head out.

“I’m off.”

Even though the way it had happened didn’t make her feel one bit better, even though she had secretly hoped to fail and be stopped in the first place, there was no changing fate. With only a curt parting remark, she went to follow after Carmelia and Waramoti.

“Wait…!” Millanueve called after her.

Abandoning her brother’s corpse, Millanueve struggled up and took a few wavering steps to chase after Izumi. Weakened by the intense storm of emotions, she soon stumbled and fell.

“Please!” she cried. “I can’t bear the thought of parting with you like this! As enemies! It breaks my hear...t! Is there no way for us to make peace? How can I pay this back to you!? If there is a way, please, please tell me what I can do! I will do anything! Anything…!”

Millanueve had deemed their relationship more crucial than even the tragic end of her brother—there was no way Izumi failed to recognize that. Her feet stopped. Not turning around, unable to bear the sight of Millanueve’s tears, certain it would crush her heart and soul, Izumi stood silent for a time.

There were many things she wanted to say and kept looking for the words.

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

I feel bad for what happened too.

I regret it.

But all of it would have sounded hollow from her lips, after what she had done and was about to do. Judging herself as deserving of no more apologies than forgiveness, she could not allow herself to ask for such, no matter how she longed for them. Aware of the young maiden’s love for her, Izumi knew that even now, Millanueve would still welcome her with open arms. And Izumi would never forgive herself for taking advantage of those feelings.

Yet, not entirely without a word could she leave either. Looking up to the blue morning sky, Izumi eventually raised her reluctant voice, in a quiet answer to the sobbing girl behind her.

“Well...If you ever end up in a bind, give me a call.”

And resumed walking.

Fire of Prometheus | END