Would the void be less frightening if she wasn’t alone…?

She stared at a ceiling she didn’t recognize, ones of fine wood.

Nothing was more disconcerting to her than being greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling upon waking.

Had she just woken up as someone else? Or was she still Freya?

Startled, she rose on the bed. Cold sweat on her temples.

She searched the room, hoping to find answers. From left to right: a small cupboard, Vod, barrel full of swords, wardrobe, a table—wait. One of them stuck out. Her sight went back to Vod; he was sitting on a stool, had set aside a sword and a polishing cloth on his lap.

He opened his lips—

She cut, ‘Who am I?’

‘Sword saint,’ he answered laconically. Moving on, ‘How did you—’

‘I don’t want a title,’ she cut, again. ‘I want a name.’

‘Freya.’ The answer gave her relief. Continuing, ‘How did you defeat the immortal?’

The last thing she wanted was to again be an unlucky target for Inconvenient Suicide Magic and having to deal with new troubles. Somewhat, she was glad to still be Freya, even when the identity wasn’t hers. Perhaps, she had gotten herself attached to being Freya…

Freya shook her head. This concern could be dealt with later.

‘…’ Surveying her surrounding, she could assume that she was in a room inside the sanctum. Noticing that she was wearing pajamas, she could tell that someone—most likely Elaine—had changed her clothing for her. Since she had just woken up…

I must have gone unconscious after the battle, Freya concluded. What happened after that?

Freya looked at Vod, about to ask, but her voice died upon looking at… an odd sight. To her knowledge, he had lost an arm, but there he was in front of her with two arms attached to his body.

Only after noticing this did Freya realize that she wasn’t feeling any pain, even though she had sustained damage in her fight. Two possibilities surfaced: either she had lost her sense of pain, or—she checked her left upper arm, there wasn’t a trace of wound nor scar—the damage had gone away.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘You healed everyone except the monster worshippers,’ he answered. Back to it, ‘How did you defeat the immortal?’

I healed everyone…?

She couldn’t have. It wasn’t as if she was able to use magic.

Unless…

Freya stared at her right hand. She remembered Elaine’s lesson of using imagination to invoke magic; thus, she formed an image in her mind, an abstract on what she believed her magic to be, and soon generated a white glow: Light Healing Magic.

Freya blinked, hardly believing.

She could use Special Magic! This opened up arrays of new possibilities!

I might overcome my stamina problem with this! Perhaps figure a new style that allows taking damage! Maybe—

‘How did you defeat the immortal?’ Vod asked, interrupting Freya’s thought. He was staring at her.

… How long have you been sitting there? ‘Have you been waiting for me to wake up just to ask that question?’

Vod nodded, just once.

‘… I didn’t defeat her.’ She couldn’t—wouldn’t kill her after all. Instead, she had uttered a promise and, since she wasn’t dead because of the skystorm, she must have altered the Formulae Magic. ‘It was a draw at best.

‘What happened to her? After the fight?’

Vod, Freya assumed, had wanted to ask how she had attained that draw, but her question was faster. Thus, he gave a detailed answer of what he knew so far, and Freya did not like it.

***

Splash… Splash…

Elaine, holding an open scroll in hand, walked through the flooded alleyway.

The battle had ended just the day before; instead of resting like the others, Elaine had been recording Lune’s Formulae Magic. Partly because she couldn’t sleep; her bad sleeping habits had gotten to her, but mostly because she understood that the Formulae Magic needed update to protect Lune from the skystorm and that she was pressed by time. As soon as Freya woke up, they would immediately be heading toward Malegonia.

I’ll first have to break her curse, Elaine thought. Lune will survive this year’s skystorm, so its Formulae Magic comes second.

Lune wasn’t in a good shape: the streets were flooded, wreckages floated on the water, and the buildings were damaged. However, it was only like this because yesterday’s skystorm had been strengthened by the Formulae Magic in the sanctum. Elaine was confident that the next skystorm wouldn’t inflict as much damage and that she had time.

Time for her to experiment and figure a method to update the Formulae Magic.

‘It was a miracle!’ Elaine heard a person exclaimed as she neared the end of the alleyway. Of a man wearing the sanctum’s uniform, holding a plastic bag to pick up floating wreckages, conversing with his comrade. ‘I’ve already lost a lot of blood yesterday! Everything was cold and dark, then there was this light that healed me!’

It seems that Freya could finally use her Light Healing Magic, Elaine thought, glad. Without that large-scaled healing magic that enveloped the whole of Lune, many lives would be lost, and she doubted sharing her mana alone would have saved Ray’s life. Not that she would suffer from possibly losing him, but just that she didn’t want to have owed him, that was all. Anyway, Elaine surely didn’t recall Freya being able to cast such large-scaled magic. She hoped that she didn’t implement a steep cost on the activation. No. Elaine shook her head. She wouldn’t be that foolish.

Perhaps she isn’t titled the child of light for nothing.

First that, and now also the sword saint.

She keeps… improving.

As her mentor, I can’t lose.

Elaine finally stepped out of the alleyway and closed her scroll. She had double-checked on her recording of Lune’s Formulae Magic, and there was no fault to be found in her scroll. Now, in her hand was countless possibilities for improvements. Once she understood fully how the Formulae Magic was written, she could start applying the structure and evolve her magic.

Elaine smiled, excited. If Freya hasn’t woken up, maybe I’ll try figuring out the Formulae Magic now.

‘Mage.’ A sword worshipper, owner of the same voice she had heard before, halted her. Having exited the alleyway, Elaine was now in front of the sanctum. ‘I’d advise that you keep away from the sanctum for now. The situation inside is… tense.’

‘?’ That didn’t sound good.

Then, though faint, Elaine could hear a ruckus forming from inside the sanctum.

***

This is impossible.

Ray opened his eyes. He was sitting on the floor with his legs folded, inside the sanctum’s empty room, having been told to meditate for training. To his argument, finding a peace of mind was impossible when the sanctum was building up a ruckus.

‘It’s not fair that she gets away this easy!’ someone shouted.

‘We demand justice!’ another too.

I’ll have to search for someplace quiet.

In all honesty, Ray very much disliked having to meditate, for it was a waste of time in his opinion. However, considering that he was close to dying and wanted no repetition of it, he had to comply with the training regimen given to him whether he liked it or not.

I’ll master mana and reign my Bloodline Magic by force, he thought. The idea was a possibility that he had been forced to explore, and it had worked. The path for him to become a King who could hold the weight of the crown was now clear. All that was left was to traverse it. I dislike meditation, but I’ll do it.

‘Someone as sinful as her should suffer!!’

I’ll need to find a quieter place.

Ray stood up and stepped outside the room. Immediately, he saw Freya storming through the hallway, Vod following behind, toward the angered shouts.

Ray was surprised by the expression he had just seen. Not Vod’s, as he was as expressionless as ever, but Freya’s, as she looked—angered?

***

Dunnford, looking back, was not satisfied with his previous fight. Although he had won as a result, he believed that he had performed poorly. That victory, in his perspective, was nothing more than a fluke.

Adapting to situations is a skill I’m glad to have, Dunnford thought, but I can hardly train it. Instead, for someone like me, I need to be better prepared. Better to have strategy I can surely rely on than uncertain improvisations I can hardly rely on.

Dunnford was standing in the sanctum’s open field. There, at the center, was a closed iron cage, containing none other than the immortal who had murdered a great many. The sword worshippers were crowded in the surrounding area, protesting that she shouldn’t just be locked and restrained, but punished.

‘She inflicted pain and it’s only right that she gets inflicted pain too! An eye for an eye!’

‘Those who had lost their lives would approve to have her punished hard!’

Ignes was standing near the iron cage, overwhelmed by the protests. She too hated the immortal, but as the head of the sanctum it was crucial that she didn’t promote savagery and brutality by allowing unnecessary punishments. The cage itself was soundproof and lightproof. Those, by themselves, were already painful enough to the mind; worse since she would end up there for a long time. However, the sword worshippers had their hatred triumph over civility.

‘I demand a duel for the right to decide her punishment!’ Brig shouted. Of course, the Hawk squad, who had been greatly affected by the loss of their leader, was the most enraged. Her bringing up a duel only worsened the situation.

From the side, Dunnford could see that Ignes was torn by this challenge. On one hand she had to keep order and accept the challenge with the intent to win, on the other hand she couldn’t exactly bring herself to protect the murderer of the previous sword saint, her husband.

I’ve made my preparations.

‘I demand a duel!’ Dunnford declared aloud, triumphing over the ruckus and silencing everyone. Due to him having single-handedly killed a monster, many had come to respect him. He earned this silence with his reputation. ‘If I win, I demand the immortal drowned deep into the ocean!’

In his opinion, everyone had approached this issue wrong. What should be decided wasn’t the punishment to give, but the proper containment for the immortal. The enclosed cage, no matter how Dunnford viewed it, looked like an easy target from the outside and the concern of her possible escape persisted. Who would know what calamity she might bring if she was out from there?

If, instead, she was drowned deep into the ocean, she would be lost for centuries until the metal gave away. She wouldn’t be able to struggle from the inside, and outsiders couldn’t even think of helping; the ocean would be too vast for their search.

Unfortunately, I can’t think of any other way to settle this. The immortal has… brought this to herself…

The continuing silence indicated only agreement. Ignes, believing in Dunnford, decided to move to support him.

‘I will not accept the duel; therefore, losing it, and would implement Dunnford’s idea.’ She waited a while, waiting for a response, but there was none. ‘Since no one is against it, what he proposed shall be the immortal’s punish—’

‘I demand a duel,’ said a voice. This one needn’t shout to be heard.

‘!’ This caught Dunnford by surprise. He looked through the crowd, toward the voice, and found the owner: a violet-haired young woman with amethyst eyes.

Do you have other ways, Freya? Dunnford wondered, hoping for her to give a better solution.

If he was forced to confess, he would admit that most of the times he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Though, he would say that he could trust her.

‘If I win,’ she continued, ‘the immortal is set free.’

…

I did not expect that.

Just like that, voices of dissent arose from the silence, and—in opposition against the sword saint—chaos enveloped the atmosphere once more, like a raging fire that had been lighted and fed. No one was agreeing in setting the immortal free. No one.

She had just made everyone her enemy.

I still have a lot more to learn about preparations it seems…

***

Darkness.

Kokuri was trapped in darkness.

Often, she wondered if this was what death would feel like: to suffer from immense pain; the slash she had received—though it had stopped bleeding—could not heal at all, and ultimately ending up all by herself without being reunited with her lost loved ones.

I hate it here…

If this was death, then this simply was suffocating.

Maybe I shouldn’t have believed in promises. I wouldn’t have ended up here if I hadn’t.

But… could she be blamed if… perhaps, deep inside, she just wanted a normal life? Could she be blamed if she wanted to live life to the fullest knowing she wouldn’t want to carry regrets when she would die of age?

She didn’t ask for this immortality.

She shed a tear.

…

Creak…

The door to the cage was opened and light seeped through. Kokuri looked up to see the violet-haired swordswoman emerging from the gap. Her amethyst eyes remained set and unwavering as she stared into her pitch-black eyes.

‘Come with me, Lea.’ She offered her hand for her.

Outside the cage, many sword worshippers had fallen unconscious on the grass. She had defeated all who had opposed her.

‘I’ll fulfill my promise this time.’

… Kokuri—took her hand.