Willpower
"I won't let them take him!" Garfield yells, his voice filled with restrained fury. His muscles tense, his body ready to leap at the guards.
A wounded, desperate child.
'It's dangerous! I can't let them take him too.'
Frederica and Garfield have already suffered too much. This can't go on.
"No!" My own voice rises, desperate. I try to stop him, but it feels like I'm colliding with an invisible wall. Garfield comes to a sudden halt, frozen in place. Standing before him, like a beacon of unyielding strength, is Reinhard Van Astrea.
The Sword Saint.
Garfield drops to the ground with a jolt, gasping for air, like a trapped animal. His eyes lift, bewildered, finding Reinhard's icy blue gaze. The knight's stare is relentless, a wall of ice.
"Fu..." I exhale, relieved yet anxious. I know Reinhard won't let anything bad happen, but part of me aches, crumbling under the helplessness of the situation.
'I almost used my magic.'
The cold of my mana lingers around my hands, but I dispel it before it's too late. Only a faint white mist remains around me.
"Let me go!" Garfield struggles in vain against Reinhard's firm grip, his movements growing more frantic. The anger in his eyes is painful to see. I don't want him to destroy himself inside, I don't want to see that look of hatred on his face.
They should be friends, Garfield, and Reinhard. But now, they face each other as enemies.
Reinhard's serious expression surprises me; I've never seen him like this—so inflexible, so distant. I glance at Felt for answers, but her face is as surprised as mine.
Even though I want to run to Marco and be by his side, I know there's something more important right now.
'I have a duty to fulfill. After all, I'm Emilia.'
I force myself to remember who I am, what I need to do, and the people who depend on me. My heart pounds in my chest, thundering in my ears, as I struggle to stay in control. I feel tears threatening to escape, but I hold them back.
I can't let my emotions take over now.
Watching the knights drag Marco away, tore at my soul. If it weren't for the fact that I know I have to trust him, I would be rescuing him. But he's weak, and without Betty... Trusting hurts, staying still hurts.
If not for this duty, I'd be beside Garfield, fighting side by side, tearing everything apart.
Suddenly, Garfield roars.
"LET ME GO!"
His body transforms, and the air around us vibrates with his unleashed power. I see him turning into a beast, but I do nothing to stop him. My duty is to observe.
Observe, and not interfere.
I remember Marco's words. "Garfield needs to be hit by reality to grow," he said. Frederica confirmed it, and even though it hurts, I know they're right. Garfield was broken by Roswaal, and this is for his own good.
Just like it's been for all of us.
I can't intervene, not if I want him to break out of his shell.
For him to grow, too.
"ROOAAR!" Garfield's roar shakes the ground beneath our feet. We feel the echo in our bones, Felt, Rom, and I remain motionless, helpless witnesses.
In the face of that roar, Reinhard doesn't budge. His gaze remains unchanged, unbreakable.
Garfield charges with blind fury, his titanic fist descending upon Reinhard, a force capable of crushing mountains. But at the last moment, Reinhard vanishes. The ground beneath his feet fractures from the force of his movement, and an instant later, Reinhard is behind him, like a ghost slipping through shadows.
"AHHH!" Garfield reacts in desperation, raising stone spikes from the earth, but Reinhard evades each one with terrifying grace, as if dancing through the attacks.
"I'm worried about my friend too," Reinhard says, his voice calm, almost sad, "but we can't make things worse now."
With a gentleness that contrasts with Garfield's unleashed fury, he brings him down. Garfield's body hits the ground heavily, his transformation dissipating like a cloud blown away by the wind.
Reinhard doesn't even have a speck of dust on his armor.
'I struggled to keep up with his speed,' I think. Marco had warned me about this, said it would be necessary for Garfield to grow. But I'm not like Marco. I can't just let him face everything alone.
A good supporter is there to hold you up, to keep you from collapsing, to make sure the wounds don't get any deeper.
I clench my hands, thinking of a way to help him.
I look at Reinhard, who is gazing at Garfield with a sadness I hadn't seen in him before. Yet, he maintains his knightly stance. I approach him slowly and touch his shoulder, silently thanking him.
"Thank you for stopping him," I murmur, my voice was weaker than I expected.
Felt intervenes quickly, with determined and furious steps.
"Idiot!" she yells, smacking Reinhard on the head with a force that startles me. "The ones you should've stopped are those idiots, not the ones who's trying to help."
Her words are harsh, and although her fury is visible, a part of me agrees.
It's like something inside me wants to scream, like every cell in my body is begging me to explode, to run, to get him out of there with my own hands.
Badum.
'Is this my heart? Has it always beaten this hard?'
It's more like a part of me, one I never really knew, is pleading for me to react.
'You have to go after him!'
The thought hits me like a storm, but I reject it firmly. This isn't just about me, or Marco. It's not just the pain stabbing in my chest as I see him taken away from me.
This is about all the lives at stake, something bigger than us.
'Focus, Emilia. If this is going to work, I need to help, not destroy.'
I force myself to breathe. My gaze searches for Felt, trying to find an anchor amid the chaos.
"Felt..." I whisper her name, but then our eyes meet. They shine like burning embers, fiery, as if they could consume everything around them.
'Those eyes… they're so hers,' I think, and for a moment, I almost smile. They're just like her—little flames that suddenly flare up when you least expect it.
I can see the rage on Felt's face, but behind that furious fire, there's something else. Pain. The same desperation I feel, the kind that suffocates us both.
"Marco's going to be okay, did you see his face before he left?" My voice trembles a bit, but I manage a smile. I touch Felt and Reinhard's shoulders, trying to give them the reassurance I need to find myself. "This is what he wanted."
'I'll do things my way, and that's how I'll get through this.'
I hear it again, Marco's words echoing in my mind like a mantra.
I can't fail him.
"The favor we're asking isn't just for us," I continue, feeling the weight of my words grow. "The whole kingdom depends on finding and ending the evil that threatens it."
They both look at me, surprised, and I take a deep breath, because now I understand the responsibility I've taken on.
"It's a risk that, as would-be rulers, we have to take," I conclude, looking at Felt with determination.
Her lips curve into a genuine smile, that mischievous spark only she can show. She bumps her fists together and looks at me with an intensity that disarms me.
"I just have to steal something, right?" She winks, catching me off guard. I can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Hiring the person who robbed you sounds pretty smart."
Her comment drags me into a distant memory. At that moment I thought everything was lost. If I had been as attentive then as I am now… maybe I would never have met Marco.
Maybe we both would have died at Elsa's hands.
'I'm so glad he stole that from me.'
I close my eyes for a second, fold my arms across my chest, and nod.
"It's a mark of quality, after all," I joke, and when I open my eyes, Felt and I share a knowing smile.
Now's the time.
"Sorry for the interruption."
I turn my head, and there, standing at the entrance, is Crusch. I wasn't expecting her to show up so suddenly.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Crusch, general of the Irlam army," she says, bowing with grace nearly identical to Reinhard's. There's something about her bearing that has always impressed me. She carries that same nobility as Reinhard, but with more solemn, reserved air.
I don't know much about Crusch's past. She deliberately avoided going into details when I tried to ask, which left me with a certain sadness. Even so, I can't help but admire her. I've often thought she must come from a high-ranking noble family, though I've never confirmed it.
'Almost like a duchess,' I reflect. 'Although maybe it's more than I imagine.'
We head back into the room. Crusch and I take control of the conversation, laying out the plan in detail. Everyone listens intently, each preparing for what's to come.
"Move!" one of the knight's spits, his voice laced with contempt.
They shove me again, and this time I lose my balance for a moment, my arms flailing to find support in the air before my feet manage to stabilize me.
A prison is a pit where hope dies daily. The damp, filthy floor creaks under my boots, while the acrid stench of sweat and mold mingles with something darker, more ancient.
Everything seems rotten, and not just the walls.
The prisoners watch me from their cells like shattered shadows. Their eyes, hollow and devoid of life, scan me with indifference. I'm just another doomed soul in this world of rusted steel and despair.
Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks the monotonous clatter of footsteps and chains.
"You think you're some kind of hero for waging war." I look up, and there he is—the guy I humiliated not so long ago.
I still remember him, his face flushed with restrained rage, barely able to stand. Now his voice struggles to sound confident, but I can see the insecurity in his gaze, the doubt that never disappeared since that day.
"War?" I repeat with a hint of mockery, a defiant smirk curling my lips. "All I did was defend my people, something you could never understand."
Before I can brace myself, his gauntlet slams into my stomach. The air is forced from my lungs, and for a second, I bend forward, my hands reaching for my knees for support.
The pain burns inside me, but I straighten up immediately, ignoring the sting in my chest, forcing myself to keep walking as if the blow hadn't fazed me.
'I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak,' I remind myself. But it's not just for them. It's this chaos inside me that's tearing me apart, the confusion that's gnawing at me since I let my emotions flow, since I started paying attention to them.
The anger swirls in my chest, but I can't let it out.
Not here.
"Come on, how long is this gonna take?" I throw out, trying to keep my voice steady as my eyes fix on the knight who hit me. "Dragging me to such a far-off cell when you're gonna pull me out in the afternoon… seems pointless." My words are soft poison, but poison, nonetheless.
I see how his hands tremble slightly, the nervousness creeping into his stance.
"Shut up!" one of them shouts, and this time, it's a fist that sinks into my gut. The force doubles me over, but I bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
Only a gasp escapes my lips.
"Open the cell," the one who seems to be the leader orders. They drag me inside, throwing me to the floor. I land on my back, the impact jolting my body, but I quickly get up.
I can't appear weak, not even now.
I glance at my cellmates: demihumans, wolfmen with sturdy bodies and bright eyes that regard me as if I'm no more than a piece of meat. Their claws rest on their thighs, relaxed but ready to act if necessary.
"Stay still, don't even think about doing anything."
"Didn't plan to… Ugh!"
They shove me roughly against the wall.
One of them pulls out a pair of thick iron shackles, and without a word, grabs my wrists and fastens them tightly above my head, securing them to the hooks embedded in the wall.
Another kneels at my feet, tightening the chains around my ankles, pulling hard until my legs are completely immobilized. The chains groan as they stretch, the cold metal biting into my skin, leaving me pinned to the wall like a puppet without strings.
I try to move, just a little, but the sharp pain in my wrists and ankles reminds me that I'm completely trapped. The weight of the iron crushes me, and for a moment, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
'So, this is what it feels like to be helpless.' But despite the immobility, my mind keeps racing, searching for a way out, a way to turn the situation to my advantage.
"I can't escape with you all here." I let my lips curl into a bitter smile as I shift against the wall. I don't need to show physical strength, only the control I used to have over words, even if it feels harder than ever now.
"Harald Costuul," I say, savoring each syllable as I watch the reactions on the guards' faces. "He's a trustworthy man, isn't he? Must've made you an offer you couldn't refuse."
A tense silence fills the space. A trembling hand, ragged breaths stifled among the knights.
I've got them.
But then, one of them steps closer, his filthy fingers touching the collar around my neck, tugging it roughly.
"Nice collar," he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. I feel a trickle of blood run from my mouth as my teeth sink into my tongue, the pain mixing with the rage struggling to break free.
Blood starts dripping from my lips, tiny drops of metallic taste.
'Don't… lose control…' But it's hard. Every second, I feel the storm inside me about to burst, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop it this time.
He tries to pull it off, tries to take away my daughter.
"Get your hands off that!"
My voice cracks like thunder, echoing off the cell walls and freezing the knights in their tracks, their bodies paralyzed by fear. The anger boils inside me, every heartbeat pounding like a war drum.
I won't let them touch it.
'I won't let them touch my daughter!'
"You can't wear a collar," says one of them, with the arrogance of a dog who thinks he's in control. He steps forward but stops, startled by the fire in my eyes.
My fury burns with an intensity that could melt the metal chaining me.
"Your rules couldn't matter less to me."
Two invisible hands of the Unseen Hand wrap around the collar protecting my daughter, but my body feels like a drifting ship, worn and weak. The pressure in my chest builds. Blood rushes to my lips, and before I know it, I spit it onto the ground.
That metallic taste floods my mouth, but the pain is the least of my concerns.
'I can't show weakness! Not now!'
"Who the hell do you think you are?" shouts one knight, drawing his sword, the shining steel reflecting the light like a snake ready to strike. The blade points at my throat, a threat that makes my blood boil.
"It doesn't matter who I am or what my name is." My voice is low, laced with seething anger. I spit more blood, savoring the iron taste from my own insides. "The only thing that matters is if you touch that collar again…"
My gaze locks onto the knight's eyes, and he takes a step back, hesitating. His sword trembles in his hands, as if he suddenly realizes the mistake he's about to make.
"If you touch that collar with your filthy hands…" My jaw tightens, and the fire in my belly roars. "I'll kill you all. And even if you kill me now, I'll come back and massacre every one of you. All of you."
It feels like the air around us has grown heavier. My words are like bullets, laced with venom. I watch them step back a little more, exchanging nervous glances with one another.
They know I'm not joking.
"I've slain the great whale, the archbishop of the Witch Cult, the best disciple of a sage." My words are like explosions.
I'm trapped, but right now, 'there's no metal that can hold me back.'
"I can kill you without lifting a finger. Turn around and go kiss Harald's ass!"
I smile, that smile I know shatters any confidence they might have had. I see them exchange looks, fearful, unsure. My words have gotten through to them; I can tell because they're starting to retreat.
'Marco Luz!' I shout to myself, the voice resonating in my mind like a distant echo, trying to anchor me to reason.
The rage devours me from the inside, the heat is unbearable, and the pressure in my chest grows so much that I can barely breathe. My heartbeat is out of control, the fire in my stomach burns.
I'm out of my mind, lost in a whirlwind of rage I can't stop. I've lost control. The words fly out of my mouth like arrows, and only after they're spoken do I realize how far I've gone. The blood keeps pouring from my mouth; the pain is unbearable, stabbing through me like a spear.
I shouldn't have said anything. 'I've ruined the plan.' But there's no turning back now. What's been said, has been said.
"Leave." My voice is a whisper, but it carries an order that brooks no argument.
The knights glance at each other, uncertain. Slowly, they begin to retreat. But one of them stops just before stepping out.
"That man there is the reason your entire group died," he says, pointing at me. "All of Costuul's criminals died because of him."
The sound of the cell door slamming shut echoes in the silence, trapping us in darkness that feels heavier than ever. I clench my hands, trying to calm myself, but the tension in the air is suffocating.
"They want you dead, you know?" The words echo in the dimness, a deep voice, somehow friendly, yet weighted like water from the depths of the sea.
The one speaking is a wolf demihuman with a pronounced white beard and streaks of gray running toward his silver eyes, like strands of silver woven into a dark fabric. His smile, torn by scars, looks more like a grimace of satisfaction than a friendly gesture.
Beside him, his companion keeps his gaze down, as if digesting the information that's just been spilled.
I nod slowly, trying to change my demeanor. 'I need to play along; it's not as easy as I thought.'
"I've only been here a month, but as you can see, they locked me up for committing 'terrible' crimes. Can you believe it?" His laugh is a murmur dripping from his lips, every word soaked with a disturbing madness. He steps closer, his eyes fixed on my slightest movements, like a predator watching its prey.
"The great Hero!" he exclaims, clapping enthusiastically, as if attending a show. "Hurrah for Marco Luz! Everyone! The hero has arrived!"
I look around at the other cells, feeling the weight of discomfort pressing down on me.
"Marco Luz!" The uproar begins, an excitement so intense it shakes the very foundations of the prison. The cacophony of shouts grows, uncontrollable, deafening.
'What the hell?' My bewildered expression seems to please him, which only excites him more.
"QUIET!" the guards yell, but the storm unleashed by this stranger cannot be contained.
"HURRAH!" The shouts continue, pounding in my ears, until he closes his hand, like flipping a switch, and the prison plunges into absolute silence.
"We're thrilled by your achievements. I've counted your achievements and kept a tally for escape, and look, the hero in prison! What beautiful irony!" His grin widens, but there's something dark in his gaze, something that makes me feel as if I'm trapped in a maze with no way out.
"What a deplorable kingdom," he murmurs, eyes on his companion, who hasn't moved from his spot. "They claim to be just, yet they keep a hero who has saved thousands of lives behind bars. Over a few prisoners?"
I look for a way to break the cuffs. The only way to shatter them would be with a cut from someone strong.
"It was just a few, only a few thousand." I smile, trying to draw him in, but his gaze sharpens, like every word I utter feeds him.
"Thousands?! What a man!" A single clap, and his eyes gleam with a madness that makes my skin crawl. He claps again, as if celebrating a performance. "I'm sure they all tried to fight, but with those weapons, it was impossible. I tried to join your army, but they turned me away. What a pity, huh?"
His words whirl in my mind like a storm. He's a criminal, yet he doesn't seem like one. His admiration mingles with something darker, something I can't identify.
Sheep with wolves' teeth.
"We don't let criminals in," I reply, trying to maintain composure while feeling his gaze pierce my skin.
"That's right, you're correct. Such a pure and noble cause cannot be stained by the presence of criminals." He places his hand on my shoulder with complete gentleness, as if trying not to hurt me, but his touch feels like a snake slithering across my skin. "I am not a criminal, Mr. Marco Luz."
I murmur with a tense smile because this man doesn't seem to be right in the head.
"Yeah, yeah, it's hilarious, I know. But it's true. I'm a businessman!" His voice was like a hypnotic chant, each word sliding out like honey. "The problem is… my business isn't exactly to everyone's taste."
He closed his eyes, turning halfway around, resting his hands on the bars like he was on display.
"I'll be out soon, but as a businessman, I've got something to negotiate with you."
"Don't you dare!" his companion snapped, a wolf with black hair. His eyes burned with fury, saliva dripping as if he were rabid.
"That bastard wiped out our organization! You can't screw us over and walk away alive! You just can't!"
"UGH!" Without warning, the air was knocked out of my lungs. An unbearable pain tore through my abdomen, a searing burn that blinded me. I gasped, struggling to draw breath while trying to keep my composure.
'What's happening?'
"He killed them all!" Another punch flew toward me, but the white-bearded man stopped it with a casual gesture.
"Enough, Dolph, you can't go around mistreating a good man." He smiled again, the calmness on his face deeply unsettling. "Sure, he took down our organization, but he also took out our enemies. It's a win-win because now it's just you and I left— the brains of the organization."
'Organization?' As in many places, criminal groups in this world came in all shapes and sizes, yet I'd never seen or heard of these people before.
The air grew thick with tension, and I found myself caught between this man's madness and reason, feeling like every word exchanged with this psychopath was pushing me closer to an abyss from which there would be no escape.
"Please excuse him, Mr. Luz. Although my cousin Dolph has a point, we're here to do business." He sat down with an unnerving tranquility, as if the gravity of the situation were nothing but a mere anecdote.
His gaze, filled with unsettling kindness, blinded me. There was no spark of humanity in those silver eyes; they were like two cold mirrors reflecting a void. He didn't care about the lives they'd taken.
My hands trembled slightly, bringing to mind the memory of someone I despised with every fiber of my being.
The person who had dragged me into the abyss.
"Harald Costuul paid me a hundred holy coins to kill you." His smile remained, though it didn't feel like a threat; it was a statement that rang like a gong in my ears.
Dolph stirred beside him; his face twisted in rage.
"Ahg! So now you're gonna cry every time one of our workers dies? Tsk!" He clicked his tongue, his frustration growing more evident by the second. "You're screwing up the negotiations. Guards!"
In an instant, the guards burst in, their steps echoing in unison, a sign of their training.
"Take my cousin Dolph, let him get some fresh air."
The cells opened, and they escorted Dolph's cousin with a deep wariness, as if they were managing a wild animal.
"Forgive him, he's more upset about the money than the people." He intertwined his fingers with a dismissive gesture. "That's why we're here. I wanted to ask you, what's your offer? Our organization, just so you don't think we're heartless, has two proposals for you."
'He didn't even let me offer.' Bitter irony twisted in my throat.
"The first is that you pay us five thousand holy coins."
The blood drained from my head, leaving a void that threatened to drown me. That amount was not only absurd; it was a sum we didn't possess, a sheer impossibility. 'So, he just wants the second option.'
"Or you can give us the blueprints for the steam machine, just the first version."
His gaze hardened, a mix of challenge and coldness.
'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought, as the knot in my stomach tightened. I wanted to protect what I had built, not hand it over to a criminal.
"And how do you plan to get them once we make the deal? I could easily say yes, then kill you both."
A grin crept onto my lips, but he didn't seem fazed by my defiance.
"You could, of course, but then people in your precious city would start dying. And after ten, it would be a hundred, all the way up to the thousands of ours you killed in that little war."
"You don't have people to pull that off."
With a sincere smile, brimming with an unsettling interest, he replied, "We are the brains. I have different bodies." His voice was soft, almost melodic, and yet, his words were like sharpened blades. "That one was the most efficient, but it wasn't the only one."
My teeth grind together, a futile attempt to calm my burning mind.
"I'll have to kill you, you know that?" I ask, and he nods, as if this is all just part of the game.
"It's logical, but now we're talking about business! Our first and last business." His gaze is an impenetrable wall, and I know there's no choice but to respond. "Afterward, we'll have to kill each other, or whatever you want. Personally, I'd rather keep doing business."
He lets out a slight yawn, then speaks in a calm voice.
"I can be anywhere, and it would be easy for me to start killing your people. You decide who you want to mess with. We're free beings, after all. HAHAHA, it would actually be thrilling."
I swallow hard, closing my eyes for a few seconds.
'I can't risk my people.'
When I open them, I look him straight in the eyes.
"Give me information about Harald, more details about what kind of business you're running. Once I have that, we'll set a date and time for the plans to be handed over." I watch him cautiously, searching for any sign of weakness, but he just smiles, a flash of joy slicing through the tension in the air.
"Of course! I knew you were a hero, saving your citizens' lives even at the cost of your great invention. I could never be like that. I admire you." He settles back in his spot, lifting his makeshift cushion and pulling out a worn black book.
"Harald Costuul. Well, since he killed his father, he's positioned himself as the new ruler of Costuul. Smart guy, but enormously prideful. Honestly, that man has killed more than us, including you, but you know how justice is." He speaks calmly, as if he holds the world in his hands, like every word is a lever that can move mountains.
"If you want to use justice, you need to hit him where it hurts—his pride. I could help, but that would come at a cost."
I shake my head; I don't want or need his help.
"I don't take help from criminals."
He raises his hands in a mocking gesture, like a clown on a stage of madness.
"As your wish. Now, on to the next thing." He puts a hand on his chin, a thoughtful pose that's more unsettling than serious. "We have a little culinary business. Nothing special; some time ago, it was deemed illegal by the council of wise men, and they've been hunting us for about three years."
He quickly raises a finger, as if recalling something.
"However, that decree was abolished a few days ago, so I'll be out soon."
"What do you mean by culinary business?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity as his smile widens, like a cat licking its lips before devouring a mouse.
"About three years ago, a man came to us with a business idea. He claimed to know a lot about a product that would sell extremely well. The initial production was tough, but once he got the hang of it, it was easy. The name he gave me was catchy: cocaine."
My eyes widen, and the world around me seems to darken as I recognize the word, swallowing a large lump in my throat.
'This isn't so simple.'
It doesn't matter where the name comes from or where the invention originated. If I confirm it's that, then I can't give them the steam engine. The idea of handing over the plans for the first version of the steam engine weighs on me like a slab of stone.
I had planned to make them public after the release of the third version, encouraging people to improve the technology.
Then, it would just be a matter of buying up the people who make the best improvements. Voilà—the monopoly would be ours. These people didn't plan to go public either, so I didn't care.
'But this is different.'
"Is it a white powder?" I ask, and he shakes his head, his expression a mix of disdain and pride.
"White is a sad color; it's blue, like a vast sky." His grin reflects an unusual pride in what he's talking about. "People love it so much, they'd give anything to get it."
'There's no way I can give them the steam engine; that much is certain.' I'll investigate these people when I get out of here, but for now, I have to focus on what's in front of me.
"Alright, let's make a deal. Do you need anything in writing?" I ask, but his laughter is mocking, as if I'm speaking nonsense.
"Writing is for you nobles; we do things by word. Learn that well, Marco Luz."
Almost as if I can hear those words again—the echoes of someone who took me from falling to diving headfirst into a complete abyss. That person who achieved their goals through blood.
"A man who doesn't keep his word is worth less than a dead one, so you'd better kill him before he fails you again." He grabs my hand, leaning closer to me with a smile that drips with venom. "You just made a deal with Marrok Van Conri; the other one is my cousin, Dolph Van Conri."
The man turns away to leave, but I stop him, my voice trembling.
"Your cousin wants to beat me up, right?"
I need to achieve my goal, at least have that. I didn't realize how hard it would be without power. I trained my body so much that I forgot to train my mind. I relied on my strength without considering how much I needed to use my head.
"Tell him to beat me without killing me and let me choose the date when I'll give you the plans."
"Name the date." He doesn't even look at me, as if he already expected this.
"A month from now, just as winter arrives."
By then, I'll have solidified the presence of the third version. Besides, the arrival of winter will make it difficult for them to build anything near Irlam. This way, I can easily keep them at bay, forcing them to advance far from the harsh winters around here, near Gusteko.
"In a month, I'll pay a visit to Irlam. We'll meet at the restaurant near Colonel Lucas's house. His wife works there and sells some, truly! delicious food." He licks his fingers as if trying to sell me on the idea, a gesture that only adds to the disgust I feel for him.
I swallow, holding his gaze with a serious look.
"Fine. I'll deliver the blueprints there."
He raises his hand, leaving the cell as his cousin arrives.
'I'm just a frog in a well.' I need to get out. I need to see beyond what surrounds me. This problem is going to escalate—I'm sure of it. Right now, I have to focus on resolving the trial, but this is something I'll have to face with greater determination.
"Bastard!" I take a punch to the nose, and it shatters instantly. Blood starts to drip, warm and sticky, as all I can do is stay still like a battered meat puppet.
I suffer, suffer, and will continue to suffer.
"My money!" I hear a crack in my ribs, struggling to withstand the furious blows.
Harald doesn't know he's messing with someone a thousand times more dangerous than himself. With something that's to be feared above something I didn't realize until I had so much blood in my hands that I couldn't hold it anymore.
A wolf disguised as a sheep can be manipulated; you can attack it from its weakest side, the wolf side. But a sheep with serpent's teeth and a wolf's mind is unrecognizable until you're already a prisoner of its actions.
That's this person, Marrok Van Conri.
If it weren't for meeting that bastard on earth, I wouldn't know how to deal with him. This world, like any other, has monsters that seek power more than anything else.
I'm left alone in the cell, covered in bruises and blood dripping from my nose and mouth. My eyes burn from that bastard's hair. I can't move because of the shackles, so all I can do is try to blow the blood out of my nose forcefully, feeling each breath turning into a struggle.
Darkness closes in, and the battle is just beginning.
"Ugh…" A clot falls, and with a slight gush, the bleeding begins to slow. My breathing is heavy, but I'm not afraid. I have to keep going.
"Well, well! Looks like we arrived a bit late." A woman's voice catches my attention.
In a prison filled with the most dangerous people this kingdom has ever known, in a damp, filthy cell with a terrible stench and an even worse atmosphere, she stands out in her white and purple outfit, adorned with pompoms mimicking snowflakes.
Her sharp gaze and amethyst eyes seem to gleam only with money, with an ambition that can't be hidden.
Beside her stands a knight. A man whose rigid posture speaks of a burning desire to become the greatest knight while judging others for not being one.
"I suppose… ugh." It's hard to speak; my body can barely hold itself in this position. "You're just in time."
I smile as that noble knight approaches me, his irritated expression saying so much. "Why did you call her here?" "How did you end up like this?"
And the most painful of all:
"You couldn't keep your promise." He grabs my collar, where Beatrice remains sealed. A flash of concern crosses his face.
"Kua." One of his spirits emerges, but it hesitates halfway, as if afraid. After a few moments, it comes closer, barely touching me, as if it wants to confirm that I'm still alive.
My throat heals slowly, aligning my lungs and ribs. The pain has gone from unbearable to just painful.
"That's enough. Thank you, Kua."
I look at both of them, especially her. The last piece in this equation is to bring Harald down.
"Fu, fu." Her genuine smile brings me some relief—it means she already has everything prepared. "I've sent what you requested to the mansion, but… why did you summon us to such an original place?"
I smile, a mix of relief and determination in my expression, and look gently toward Anastasia.
"What else? Business."