A Trial Cloaked in Darkness.
The tension is palpable. Even though everyone present maintains a professional demeanor, the weight of the trial pressing down on us is impossible to ignore.
After Miklotov's words, silence settles in, but it is not a calm silence. It's heavy, expectant. My nerves threaten to betray me, yet my stance remains firm. In this room, every gesture, every word, is a battle.
Harald Costuul stands unshaken. His calm expression contrasts sharply with the gravity of the situation. Even Marco, despite his pain, has shown no sign of weakness.
But it's the posture of Julian Meyer, his defense attorney, that troubles me the most. That faint smile of his.
It's as if he's enjoying the spectacle, and trying as I might, I can't help but feel a chill run down my spine.
'He's a monster who cares for nothing but money.'
Miklotov, in his usual tone, begins.
"This tribunal of the Kingdom of Lugunica is convened today to hear the charges against Marco Luz, accused of war crimes in accordance with the Laws of Conduct in Armed Conflict, specifically the Edict of Lugunica on Humanity in War, article three," Miklotov explains, his voice firm, emotionless. "The plaintiff, Harald Costuul, brings forth this accusation."
The echo of his voice reverberates through the spacious hall. If we fail in this trial, the verdict will not only affect Marco but all of Irlam.
Julian rises with studied precision. His movements fill the room with an unbearable tension. The black suit he wears makes him look like a raven stalking its prey. When he speaks, it's with the confidence of someone who already sees himself as victorious.
"On the twentieth day of the month of Oxfol, war was declared between the cities of Irlam and Costuul," he begins solemnly, his movements calculated to capture everyone's attention. "During this conflict, the Principles of Military Honor established in the Treaty of Protection and Justice in Times of War were flagrantly violated. These rules govern the use of weaponry in conflict. Weapons were used that offered no chance of defense, not even with the enchanted armor approved by the war codes."
I feel a knot in my stomach, but I keep my expression controlled. Julian extends an arm, and the guards bring forth a shattered, bloodstained armor with a hole that cannot be ignored.
It's from a cannonball; all that remains is a large hole on both sides.
It's a shocking sight, and I can't help but notice the jury's reactions.
Some even look away.
"Here is undeniable proof," he continues, raising his voice. "A magical armor rendered useless by projectiles designed solely to massacre, in blatant violation of the Fair War Clause of the Allied Kingdoms' Agreement. There was no chance to surrender, no prisoners taken. There was no mercy."
The accusation is clear, and while they have a point, they cannot frame it this way.
'There's nothing to fear just yet.'
Marco remains motionless, but I notice a slight tightening in his jaw. He knows what's at stake, and so do I. I can't allow them to continue with this twisted narrative.
"Their weapons weren't just cruel; they were disproportionately destructive. More than two thousand lives were lost, leaving no trace to bury. Not even bodies." Julian clenches his fists, his piercing gaze fixed on us. "These were not casualties of war, members of the jury and judges; these were massacres carried out in collaboration with the Witch Cult by the accused."
'What?'
The blow is devastating, but I can't stay silent. My hands clench into fists on the table.
The pressure in my chest is intense, but I cannot afford to show weakness now.
"Objection!" I stand up, striking the wood with enough force to command everyone's attention. My voice rings out in the room with more strength than I expected. "The accusations made here lack any substantiated evidence. I demand that these claims be withdrawn unless proof is provided."
My gaze locks with Julian's. His smile doesn't falter, but I know I've made him step back. Miklotov nods after a brief silence.
"The defender, Crusch Karsten, is correct," Miklotov affirms in his usual tone. "The claims lacking evidence will be dismissed until concrete proof is presented."
Julian nods, inclining slightly, but his arrogant smile remains. He knows he still has the jury's attention, but so do I. This trial will be a war of words, of perceptions, and every small advance matters.
'The fact that severity increases only benefits us.'
"As I was saying," Julián continues, maintaining his composure, "the war crimes committed by Irlam's forces violate the Laws of Conduct in Armed Conflict, as well as the Just War Clause of the Allied Kingdoms' Agreement. Once a soldier falls in battle, they are considered a non-combatant and, as such, should be aided without regard to which side they belong to. Irlam showed no such mercy."
My fists clench: the injustice of his words overwhelms me, but I keep my face calm. I can't allow him to see my frustration.
"Additionally, we accuse Marco Luz of associating with illegal forces, specifically the Witch's cult, as was suggested in reports prior to the war," Julián concludes, leaving an air of doubt hanging in the room before sitting down with the same calmness he had shown from the start. "That's all."
Miklotov looks at me when Julián leans back. Once he's seated, he addresses me.
"Defender Crusch, you may proceed with the defense of the accused."
The weight of his words lingers in the air as Miklotov grants me the floor. My mind races, but outwardly I remain composed, knowing that any hint of hesitation would be disastrous. I walk toward the center of the room with steady steps.
"Honorable tribunal, esteemed judges, and jury," I begin, my voice projecting a calmness that, deep down, feels like a fragile facade. "The accusation presented by Duke Harald Costuul is unfounded and must be examined in the light of truth and tangible evidence."
'What's Fourier doing right now?'
'He didn't even come to the trial.'
I scan the room, making sure to capture the attention of everyone present.
"The Treaty of Protection and Justice in Times of War establishes the Principles of Military Honor that nearly all kingdoms must uphold during conflicts. Among these is the preservation of the lives of unarmed combatants and civilians. However, I must emphasize that in this case, those principles have not been flagrantly violated, as has been suggested here."
I pause briefly, feeling each word resonate in the room's complete silence. I stop for a moment, organizing my thoughts before continuing.
'This is it, the moment we change the tide.'
"It is crucial to understand that the soldiers we faced were deliberately transformed into mindless creatures, monsters controlled by the Witch of Envy. According to the evidence we've presented and what's stipulated in Section Fourteen of the treaty, a being that loses its rationality and becomes a beast that attacks indiscriminately ceases to be considered human."
'Mentioning that name—the taboo of the Witch of Envy—will give this matter the gravity it deserves.'
I direct my gaze toward Harald and Julián, who can't hide the faint glimmer of nervousness in their eyes.
"By the law and the principles, we all defend here, we were not facing people; we were up against living weapons, creatures stripped of soul and will. Our efforts were, at all times, focused on legitimate defense and the preservation of human life against that threat. There was no transgression of the principles of human protection. My client, Marco Luz, adhered to the rules of honor until his last breath."
Alsten enters the room, carrying a black vial. The miasma inside is dangerous enough that I can see some members of the jury shudder slightly.
'Miss Echidna said the effects vary with each person, depending on their mental strength.'
'Marco just told me not to touch it.'
I point to it firmly.
"This is what Mr. Julián Meyer has conveniently omitted: the use of a taboo element by Costuul's side. This vial contains the remains of a soldier turned into a beast of the Witch of Envy; its name is still unclear."
"Objection! There's no proof of that!" he shouts in the same manner I did, but the judges, seeing him, allow me to continue.
He makes a slight grimace, which makes me smile internally.
I look at the jury, trying to convey the gravity of the situation without losing control.
'This isn't about us anymore. When I discovered something about the miasma, its existence, and the way it manifests, I recognized the danger.'
"The Edict of Lugunica on Humanity in War permits the use of lethal force against corrupted creatures and non-human entities, a law that the Kingdom of Lugunica implemented after the catastrophe during the demihuman war. Our actions were legitimate, necessary to save lives."
My heart pounds, but my voice remains steady. This is my moment to change the course of this trial.
'To achieve our objectives.'
"Therefore, I request that Reinhard Van Astrea, a man of unbreakable honor whose words cannot be doubted, testify before this court."
The silence in the courtroom is absolute. Each word falls like a judgment, and I know that what happens next will determine the course of the trial.
The air grows heavy, filled with a mix of disbelief and restrained tension. No one dares speak aloud, but their eyes say it all. No one knew what the miasma truly was until today, let alone that it could be something so tangible, so dangerous.
'No one knew such a great danger was hiding.'
The revelation we are making affects not just this trial but the entire Kingdom.
Reinhard enters through the main door, and for a moment, the tension seems to ease slightly. His mere presence is imposing, and everyone places their trust in him—The Sword Saint, a man whose authority is unquestionable. When his blue eyes sweep across the room,
I can almost see how each person is analyzed under his sharp gaze.
But something shifts in his expression. It's a subtle movement of his lips, a slight furrowing of his brow. I know him well enough to understand what it means.
'He's angry.'
Reinhard doesn't allow himself to show weakness, but his discomfort is undeniable. His pace is quick, though not anxious, and as he reaches the center of the courtroom, the entire room watches his every move.
Felt and Garfield should be on their way, which means we need to stall the trial until they reach the Bordeaux mansion.
'We need to buy time.'
'For that, a bit of the truth hidden in this world.'
'A truth I'm just beginning to uncover.'
I address the court, my voice heavy with seriousness: "I have brought The Sword Saint to this trial to impartially certify the veracity of our actions. Reinhard Van Astrea, a man whose honor no one would dare question, is here to evaluate the evidence."
The atmosphere in the room shifts. If anyone had doubts about the legitimacy of my words, they now feel compelled to listen.
Alsten steps forward slowly, holding the black vial in his hands. All eyes are on him, and the miasma it contains seems to weigh on the very air itself. He places it carefully on the floor, then pulls a small mouse from a leather pouch.
"This liquid you see," I begin, my tone solemn, "is linked to the Witch's Cult. For those unfamiliar, this is miasma—mana in a state of decay. It transforms its nature into something entirely different: corrupt energy, dangerous to all forms of life."
The audience's murmurs are audible. No one had seen miasma before, and many didn't even know such a thing existed.
'Until now, it was my first time.'
'But for Marco, who comes from another world, it was so normal he even knew about it.'
"The concept was theorized by scholars in books hundreds of years ago, but it had never been demonstrated so clearly. The bodies of cultists, as has been discovered, contain this miasma to varying degrees, but it is not a mark of belonging to the Witch's Cult on its own," I continue, projecting confidence in my words as I maintain my stance. "However, its presence destabilizes any living being, altering their capacity for self-control and even their own body."
The mouse, now loose on the floor, moves toward the vial of miasma. The room holds its breath, every eye fixed on what is about to happen. The small animal approaches slowly, driven by an instinctive curiosity.
It sniffs the liquid miasma, and in that precise moment, chaos erupts.
"For the dragon's sake!" shouts someone from the audience, as the murmurs turn into stifled cries of horror.
The mouse begins to bite itself, tearing at its own body with violence, its tiny frame twisting in impossible ways. It lunges at Alsten, who swiftly intercepts it, grabbing it by the tail.
But even in the air, the creature thrashes wildly, moving with unnatural speed.
"The mutagenic capacity of this liquid transforms any living being into a future mabeast," I explain firmly, directing my voice to the jury. "Judges and jury, this is not just a legal matter. This liquid is a lethal danger, a poison that threatens to spread beyond this trial, a public menace that could destroy us all."
Alsten releases the mouse, and as the small body touches the ground, a black horn begins to emerge from its head. The air grows densely with an ominous energy, and an aura of terror envelops everyone present.
The small creature grows rapidly, reaching half the size of a person, its eyes filled with a mindless rage.
"You've brought a monster into this sacred place!" Julian shouts, jumping up from his seat. "Judges, put an end to this madness!"
But before the judges can react, July Cariana rises to her feet. Her expression is serious, her stance unwavering. Her authority in the chamber is unquestionable.
"This goes beyond the dignity of this place," she declares firmly. "If what the defender Crusch Karsten says is true, we are facing an unprecedented danger. This matter must be treated with the utmost seriousness."
Alsten positions himself in front of the mabeast, which continues to grow and writhe, and with a swift motion, he draws his pistol.
Bang!
The shot echoes through the room, and the creature screeches in pain, but it keeps moving, its black blood staining the floor. Reinhard quickly advances towards the beast, stopping it dead in its tracks with his bare hands, a strength only he possesses.
Even he, a man who has faced countless mabeasts, seems taken aback by the speed and power of the transformation.
The hall is in shock, faces filled with horror as they watch the outcome of this bizarre battle unfold. Alsten, with a disturbing smile, reloads his weapon.
"What you see before you is not just a simple weapon," I say, holding up the device. "It's a compact bow and arrow in the form of a pistol, designed to eliminate your enemies quickly and efficiently. It doesn't cause unnecessary suffering, doesn't prolong agony. A swift and clean death."
Some in the audience look at it with greed, recognizing the power these weapons offer.
"But that's not all," I add, before Alsten fires again. "It causes immense pain to anyone with miasma in their body."
This time, the shot sounds different, sharper, and the gun's barrel glows red. The mabeast screams again, this time in unbearable pain. Its body twists as if it's being consumed from within.
In a matter of seconds, it stops moving.
Dead.
Even Reinhard, with all his experience, appears slightly surprised. Not by its death, but by how easily it was achieved.
Silence grips the chamber after Alsten's shot. Everyone watches in astonishment as the mabeast, a frenzied, violent creature, finally falls motionless on the ground. It wasn't a shot aimed at its head or a vital organ, but the projectile was enough to end its life.
The surprise on their faces is unmistakable.
"Yang bullets, developed in Irlam," I explain, my tone now more formal, almost didactic. "These bullets are designed to disperse the miasma within bodies, weakening their resilience and regenerative abilities."
The air in the room seems to grow even heavier. The judges and jury scrutinize the weapon closely, realizing they are witnessing an unprecedented breakthrough; having a specialized weapon for dealing with the cult is a huge blow.
Where Marco's fight highlighted a large, hard-to-conceal rifle, though lethal, we now present a pistol, a small weapon that can be hidden anywhere on the body.
And at the same time, it's deadly—one that anyone can use.
"We developed these weapons in response to the witch cult's constant attacks. Until now, our only defense was training elite knights, but with these weapons, any ordinary citizen, even those who have never wielded a sword, can protect themselves. We are no longer defenseless."
A pause loaded with meaning fills the hall. The concept of universal defense is an idea that clashes with the traditions of Lugunica, where knights have always been the protectors of the people.
"Although I'm not entirely proud of it," I continue, with a slight tone of nostalgia in my voice, "the path of the sword has always been my honor and my heart. But now, those farmers working under the sun, that blacksmith forging our weapons, will have the means to defend themselves. That is the true purpose of these weapons."
The creature lying on the floor begins to decompose rapidly, its skin peeling off in chunks as a black liquid, the miasma, starts to drip and spread across the ground.
"Liquid miasma is even more dangerous," I warn in a grave tone, ensuring they hear me clearly. "It multiplies with the death of any living being and can spread uncontrollably. However, it doesn't affect the dead; it needs the body to be alive to expand."
Alsten tosses a dead rat into the miasma pool, but it simply disappears, without multiplying the miasma.
"The miasma is odorless and colorless, which means we really don't know when or where it appears. Only in liquid form is it visible."
'That's what I explained from what little Marco and Miss Echidna told me.'
'How long has Marco known about this?'
'The Witch of Greed, Miss Echidna, must know even more details.'
'If the Cult is connected to Fourier, then I need to learn much more.'
The panic in the room rises. Even though the miasma has already been introduced, no one here can see its residue, which only heightens the sense of vulnerability. Only Rem, who isn't present, has the ability to sense it, but even that wouldn't be enough to ease their nerves.
At that moment, Reinhard steps forward. His mere presence seems to silence any murmurs that were beginning to spread. His expression is solemn—he knows that what he's about to say will change the course of events.
"I, Reinhard Van Astrea, as a member of the Astrea family, certify that all the information presented in this court is accurate. Not only that, but I also give my word as a direct witness to Count Marco's actions and am willing to stake my title as the Sword Saint if necessary. His actions have been for the good of this kingdom."
The impact of his words is immediate. Everyone's eyes widen in awe and respect. The Sword Saint isn't someone who speaks lightly, and his title is one of the highest honors in the Kingdom of Lugunica.
With this declaration, Reinhard not only validates the evidence but also marks this trial as an event that goes beyond the legal. This is no longer just a conflict between two cities or factions; the future of the kingdom—no, of the entire world—is at stake.
A murmur reverberates through the hall, a mixture of fear, respect, and astonishment. What Reinhard just did is a point of no return. The structure of power in the kingdom will change, and the decisions made here will define everyone's future.
Finally, the chief judge, Miklotov, stands up, breaking the tense silence that has filled the room.
"We will take a brief recess," he announces firmly. "In the meantime, the hall will be cleaned. I ask all present to return at the sound of the three bells."
With that announcement, a group of servants enters the room. Each holds Yang crystals, the same ones that were mentioned earlier as part of the technology to contain the miasma.
Of course, these are our own servants.
The tension lingers in the air as everyone temporarily exists, knowing that the second half of this trial will be even more critical.
I turn halfway, but before I can take a step, I notice Marco's gaze is lost, disconnected from everything around him.
'He fainted!'
Something inside me tightens. Before I realize it, I'm running toward him, guided by an impulse I can't stop. But Emilia reaches him first. In an instant, she places her hands on his face and starts healing him, with a tenderness and devotion that leaves me silent, watching from a distance.
'What was I supposed to do? She's the healer…'
"Defender Crusch." Marcus's voice pulls me out of my trance. His low, firm tone brings me back to reality.
He gestures for me to follow him, and I walk with him to a more secluded area, keeping my expression controlled, though inside I'm anything but calm. I look at him with curiosity, unsure of what he could need from me at this moment.
"Captain Marcus?" I ask, but the seriousness on his face answers before he speaks.
"They want to kill Marco Luz."
Those words are like a cold rush of relief. While Marco always assured me Marcus was on our side, the cloak of uncertainty has grown so thick that I even distrust my own memories.
'How can I trust them, when someone I once considered an ally has risen from the dead to become my greatest enemy?'
"I didn't hear that from you," I mutter, my voice filled with a determination that defies fear, "but I will protect him with my life; I swear it on my name."
Before he can respond, I walk away, though a fleeting thought tempts me to stay, to speak more with him.
But something drives me, something consumes me and pushes me forward.
'Fourier.'
I have to see him; I need to see him. Despite everything, despite the weight crushing my chest, I realize I'm searching for a reason… any reason to believe there's still something left in him, something that makes him real, tangible.
'Something that justifies everything he's done.'
I start jogging, feeling my breath quicken, the weight of memories swirling in my mind, searching for a crack in my resolve.
'Maybe he's fighting in his own way.'
I need to know what he's planning, what he's after, why he came back. Maybe… maybe there's something bigger here, something I can't quite grasp.
'In the end, it feels like I don't know anything.'
This place, empty and silent, where we used to meet, where our steps resonated with familiarity, now feels like a desert of shadows that mock my loneliness. The palace is full of memories, moments of immense joy that now weigh on me, as if they've turned into chains of nostalgia binding me to a broken story.
'The palace used to be a colorful place.'
I feel the pain in my chest, a weight that makes my legs grow heavy, but I keep going, ignoring the screams of my body. I start running. The air feels insufficient, my lungs burn, but I don't stop.
Each step echoes like a beat of my own desperation, as if my soul is trying to free itself from an invisible burden.
It's been so long since I last saw my father, not even when he should've been at trial; his absence is a constant pain, an anchor that keeps me in a prison without bars. And as I run, I wonder if he's also been part of this loss, this inexplicable pain.
'Is my father aware of Fourier's actions? Has his existence changed the father I once knew?'
I finally reach the baths. The place looks abandoned, and I realize it's deserted, as if he had foreseen everything, calculated every detail so that, in this moment, I would be the only one to see him.
'Is he an enemy, or does he have any salvation left?'
A strange tremor runs through my body. As I step inside, my gaze falls on his figure… and there he is, Fourier, wearing a suit similar to mine, a distorted image, a reflection that gives me a macabre vision of the past.
His green hair falls, long and well-kept, and his eyes… one golden and the other red, watch me with an intensity that makes me hold my breath. One eye that once symbolized hope, and the other, now, an abyss I can't decipher.
"I brought you a rose, my dear friend. Or rather, I brought you a rose, my former love."
His voice is soft, like a whisper among snakes, and his expression, an attempt at warmth that fools no one. In his hand, a pale white rose that seems to wither at his poisonous touch. He throws me an empty smile, filled with a false sweetness that pierces like thorns.
His smile is a mask, a curtain behind which there's only emptiness, a parody of what he once was.
And I realize, painfully, that the Fourier I knew, the one I shared my happiest days with, no longer exists.
The flower in his hand becomes a reminder of our ruin, a symbol of something that died long ago, yet he seems determined to make me remember, over and over, as if he wants me to perish in that memory too.
'Be strong, Crusch Karsten.'
'This person has taken almost everything from you.'
I hold back the scream clinging to my chest, the tears threatening to betray me, and instead, I just watch him.
'You can't let yourself fall for the past.'
This is the face of my enemy. And yet… yet I can't help but long for what once was.
"Mind your actions, Fourier Lugunica. I've known you for a long time… or rather, I knew you." I keep my gaze fixed on him, cold, but without taking a step closer. I can't help but retreat in my mind, seeing the insurmountable distance that now lies between us.
He smiles with that chilling smirk, as if my words bring him some pleasure.
"It's just a symbol, Crusch, nothing more. I'm a human being too," he says with a crooked smile, a slight bow of his head, and a condescending wink. But in his eyes, there's no trace of the Fourier I once knew.
His gaze is hollow, an all-encompassing emptiness, like an abyss I can't escape from, no matter how much I wish to.
'Is this really Fourier?' My thoughts twist with doubt and anger, but my expression remains unchanged. I know he's here because he has a plan.
Every time we achieve something, every small victory we secure, he turns it into another piece of his own game. He's managed to gain praise, to be followed without question, while we are barely allowed to take a step forward before, he seizes the ground from under us once again.
If he keeps taking and taking from our victories…
My eyes widen in a flash of painful understanding. 'When will we catch up to them?' And suddenly, I feel the weight of my own hopelessness.
'Why do I think like this?' 'Since when did I accept this life and forget who I was?' I am Crusch Karsten, I should be leading, fighting for my dreams, for the future I once envisioned, fulfilling my dream and my goal of being a ruler.
'Not the general of an army.'
'I had my people, I…'
"I wanted to tell you that you'll soon have your first mission," he announces in a dry, cutting tone, as if there's no emotion in his words, just an order.
I watch as he removes a glove, his hand sliding off slowly while he keeps his eyes on me. I can't help but tense up.
He notices clearly; The effect his presence has on me. He holds out his hand to me with a gesture I would have accepted without hesitation before, but now all I want to do is step back.
I raise my arm to block him, barely containing the fury burning inside me. But he sighs, pulls out a letter, and lets it fall into the air between us as if it weighs nothing.
"Your father is on a mission to Vollachia," he begins, and it becomes hard to breathe as I hear him talk about my father. "Seems like he has plans to make new contacts. A wonderful man, isn't he? But Crusch, if you don't treat me well, if you don't…"
My chest ignites with a pain that battles against my pride, and though each word feels like an affront, I can't hold back.
"You can try to silence me, Fourier, but you will never take away my dignity. I am Crusch Karsten, and my father…"
"He isn't just your father, dear. It's everything that carries the Karsten name," he interrupts, and one glance at his mocking eyes is enough to make my skin crawl. "I can destroy it all, you know. If your pride means more than the lives of the innocent, go ahead, keep talking."
The threat hangs heavy in the air, so dense that it's hard to breathe. His fingers touch my chin, forcing my face up to meet his eyes—eyes that once lit up my dreams and now only remind me of all I've lost.
His eyes, one red and the other gold, which once gave me courage, now fill me with revulsion, as if I'm looking at everything I never wanted.
'I have to face him.' The thought echoes in my mind, but my body feels weak, exhausted in his presence, and I realize I don't know if I can endure.
"I'll tell you about the mission when the time is right, but be ready," he announces with a smile that pierces through me. His gaze seems almost sad, as if he's the only one who understands the tragedy of what I've lost.
'He's in control.'
"Crusch Karsten always keeps her word, in the end," he whispers, his tone carrying no other intent but hurting me one more time. "You're the person I've loved most in my entire life."
And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone with his words resonating in my chest like a curse.
When I close my eyes, I feel my legs give out, and my knees hit the ground.
'I'm a failure.'
I can barely hold myself up, and my body trembles as I try to contain the pain building in my chest.
'This isn't me.'
'This isn't the Crusch Karsten I once was.'
"When did I change so much? When did I start giving it so much importance?" The lump in my throat is so tight that I can barely swallow.
I want to cry, but even that doesn't seem allowed.
I use a slight touch of wind magic to dry the tears before they fall, erasing any trace of this vulnerability I feel. But in my heart, the pain remains, throbbing like an open wound that never heals.
I force myself to remember.
I remember the past, life as a duchess, the friendships, the loyalties, the shared dreams. Félix, Wilhelm, my father, even my servants… I see each of them in my mind, standing beside me, with the hope that all of this had a purpose.
And now, it feels like a distant mirage.
The person I longed so much to see again, the person who was the reason for my struggle and my courage, has returned only to take everything from me.
My name, my ambitions, my dreams.
Every day, he reminds me that I'm his shadow, a hollow echo of what I once was.
I don't feel unhappy with what I have now, no. I've met valuable people; I've learned things that have made me stronger. But that emptiness… that loss… it's a weight that suffocates me.
And then, in a whisper barely audible, I let slip what my heart longs to confess to the wind.
"It was my life… it was my path. A path full of difficulties, but mine. It was the one I had chosen, the one I was willing to face, no matter what it cost."
My face buries itself in my hands as I try to gather the strength I know I must have. Because there is still a test I must face, there are still people depending on me.
"It was my family, my people… and myself."
My desires, my goals… they feel so distant now that I can hardly remember them. So much has happened that it's as if I am no longer Crusch Karsten, as if returning to who I once was is no longer possible.
I can feel the longing, the one I once cherished in my chest, slowly fading away, dissolving with each beat of my own heart.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, an image appears. Now more than ever, those memories and dreams become so vivid, so real, that I can almost reach out and touch them. I close my eyes and allow myself, just for a moment, to feel the warmth of that life I once imagined—a simple, peaceful life alongside those people. The desires I used to have, the moments that could have been, surround me, as if my mind refuses to let me escape from this mirage.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind: if that Fourier, the Fourier I remember, the real Fourier… had met Marco. 'They would've been friends right away,' I think, and I can't help but manage a sad smile.
I picture their laughter, their ridiculous ideas, each more outrageous than the last, lost in their own adventures without a care for anything else.
Even in a world where I'd be alone, without Emilia, without Luan or Alsten, I imagine a life where it was just the three of us—Félix, Fourier, and me.
I see us sitting beneath a large tree, talking about anything and everything, laughing with a lightness that now feels impossible. It's a simple scene, free from the complexities of the present, without the shadows that now darken my path.
I can feel the sun filtering through the leaves, the fresh scent of the grass, and for a moment, it almost feels real.
'My mission.'
'My vision.'
Those words echo inside me, in a voice I hardly recognize as my own.
Because even though I know I can't reclaim what's been lost, even though I understand that those days are gone, in this moment, the simple act of dreaming feels so real, so alive, that it's like a relief… a temporary escape from the reality that hurts so much.
In my mind, I imagine that after spending a long time together, the three of us end up falling asleep under that tree, our bodies curled up in a silent embrace.
A moment of peace that won't exist, but right now, it feels as real as the air I breathe.
And with that, the tears finally find their way out.
My wounds begin to close slowly under the warm touch of her magic. My breathing becomes lighter; however, a slight agitation lingers in my chest. Emilia hasn't said a single word to me, but the feeling of her magic and her presence is enough.
Her closeness seems to calm any noise in my mind, until all I hear is the dull thump of my heartbeat.
"Emilia?" I murmur quietly.
"Shh!" she immediately stops me, her serious expression giving her an unusually sweet air.
I shut my mouth, obediently, and watch her work with a concentration that I find beautiful. Every movement, every small gesture of her hands leaves me trapped in a silence filled with admiration.
When she finishes healing me, I slowly sit up.
I need to think about the next move; there's still one trap left to set. My eyes drift toward a pair of small glintstone fire crystals. They are tiny, barely visible, but they are a key piece in the strategy.
I analyze the judges' faces, their reactions, every slight variation in their posture.
So far, the situation has escalated beyond what I expected. If we can take this to its climax, it could become a matter of interest for the four realms. An invaluable advantage that...
"Does it hurt?" Her soft voice pulls me from the maze of my thoughts, dragging me back to her presence.
"No, not at all." I smile at her and notice she smiles back, a faint glow lighting up her face that leaves my mind blank.
She squeezes my hands in hers, looking at me with a serene firmness, and I feel a special warmth in her touch.
Her magic has improved; I can sense it has become faster and more efficient, using less of her energy but achieving the same effect. I can't help but stare at her, captivated by every detail of her expression, as if a world I want to know is hidden in her gaze.
"I'm glad to hear that," she finally says, her smile shining with sincerity so pure that I find it impossible to look away. She strokes my hands and gazes at me sweetly. "Did you think I would get mad?"
I nod, somewhat awkwardly.
The worry in her eyes is as clear as water, so evident it leaves me speechless.
"I am, but not with you... rather with whoever did this to you," she replies, and before I realize it, she hugs me tightly. I feel the warmth of her chest, and my breath catches.
This moment, this brief instant in which her arms surround me, makes all worries disappear.
"It's just the result of injustice," I say softly, returning her embrace and feeling her presence.
"Of the world we need to change, right?" she whispers close to me, giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead. Her skin flushes at the contact, her cheeks and ears turning a charming shade of red.
'So cute...' I think, and then I find me unable to suppress the smile that escapes me.
"You look like a tomato," I comment lightly, watching as she lowers her gaze while squeezing my hands a little tighter.
Emilia turns away without saying another word, but her smile fills my chest with an indescribable warmth. In the midst of this chaos, where strategies are everything to us, she becomes my only refuge, where time seems to stand still.
"Foolish Marco! Hmpf!" she exclaims, crossing her arms as she directs her gaze toward the door.
I know Garfield and Felt should be arriving at the Bordeaux mansion at any moment now.
Infiltrating the Bordeaux mansion will be a monumental challenge; a place ruled by a corrupt wise man is always better guarded than any other.
Whoever hides the worst is the one who protects themselves the most.
"Allied nobles will be arriving soon; they want to have a little meeting. Julius and Anastasia will also be there, so you need to be attentive," I say, smiling.
Her surprise is evident.
"They are coming too?" she asks, reflecting for a moment. "Is it to use their merchant guild as a guarantee?"
I nod, my smile widened as I see her interest.
"The Emilia of now thinks wisely; I like it."
"I'm not an idiot!"
Without warning, she rushes toward me, climbing onto my lap and starting to gently punch my head with her fists, moving from a light tap to a harder one.
"Wait, ow!" I interrupt her, grabbing her arms as I look at her closely.
"I'm not foolish; I've always been smart," she replies, a spark of pride in her eyes.
It's true, even if she can be quite scatterbrained at times.
"You're like a beast in combat and healing, but a little ant when it comes to business and politics."
"For that, I have my Marco; besides, I've learned quite a bit," she smiles, and her words reach my heart like a gentle hug amid the chaos.
"Your Marco?" I ask, enjoying her reaction and trying to make her blush even more. She widens her eyes, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
I sigh, looking at her with a smile that's hard to contain.
"You're right; I am your Marco, my Emilia."
She jumps slightly, pulling away from my lap and looking elsewhere, trying to hide her blush. I watch her smiling, enjoying her reaction as her ears droop, betraying her embarrassment.
"Your Emilia..." she murmurs, and at that moment, I realize I've enjoyed her blushing long enough.
The simple exchange between us manages to dissolve any worries, reminding me that there are moments worth more than any strategy or plan.
Now that my heart has calmed down, I can move on.
"I need to talk to Crusch. Have you seen her?" I ask, and Emilia shakes her head.
"Honestly, I lost sight of her when I was focused on you. Alsten must be looking for the witness for the second part, but I really haven't seen her. Where could she have gone?"
"I saw Marcus take her somewhere before I completely passed out."
Knock, knock.
The door opens, and I immediately recognize who it is. Her figure stands out among the crowd, her green hair fluttering like a flag in the wind.
"Where have you been? Are you okay?" Emilia immediately asks, her voice filled with concern.
With a delicate gesture, she smooths her disheveled hair. However, her gaze seems lost, as if trapped in thoughts she doesn't want to share.
"I'm fine," she replies, smiling faintly. "Just a little tired."
Without thinking, Emilia attempts to use healing magic to alleviate her fatigue, but Crusch stops her with a gentle gesture.
"I'm fine, don't worry."
Emilia's expression becomes anxious as she sees Crusch approaching me, her face reflecting a worry that makes me feel even more uneasy.
"You don't look well," I say, watching how Crusch makes a small grimace of pain.
At that moment, I realize something must have happened.
'Only one person can have such an effect on her.'
I lean toward Emilia, and just by looking at her, I convey my intention: 'I'm going to talk to Crusch privately.'
Her eyes, filled with questions, respond: 'Are you going to help her?'
I nod, and a smile of relief crosses her face.
"I'll be entertaining the guests," she says, leaving the room with renewed energy.
The atmosphere feels heavy, but I can't help but be amazed.
This is the first time I see Crusch like this—vulnerable and exposed, yet somehow blurry. I try to discern what's going on with her, but the crowd in the mansion makes the mana feel thick, complicating my vision.
I still don't have a good grasp of this power, which makes the task more challenging.
"Marcus told me they want to kill you," she says, looking down at the ground.
But I know that isn't the real reason for her state.
"That doesn't matter right now," I reply, trying to downplay it.
"Don't you fear that they'll kill you?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"I'm more afraid of what's happening to you," I confess, and her gaze shifts, filling with sadness.
"Fourier approached again. I had some minor issues with him, but it's just the pain," her voice cracks, and that hurts me.
"It must be tough for you," I say, rising to try to get closer to her.
Right now, Crusch is my pillar of trust; I've placed all my faith in her to keep balance amid the chaos. She's my friend, someone I can fight alongside.
I want to help her, but I feel like she's hiding something important.
"Tell me what's going on; it's the only way I can help you," I insist, gently taking her shoulders.
She turns her back to me, and with a sudden impulse, I spin her back around, looking her straight in the eye.
"We're a team. Besides, you're my lawyer; whatever we discuss will be confidential between us." I smile, and even though she tries to return it, her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
To be honest, she is one of those who has changed the most.
She still has glimpses of the Crusch she used to be, but at some point, she seems to have forgotten who she was. That, in part, is a consequence of what the human body does; we all adapt to our surroundings, changing based on what we see and feel every day.
It's true that we fight for our ideals, but eventually, the body betrays us.
The heavy responsibilities and the situations we've been through have molded Crusch into someone different from who she once was.
That's normal; we all change.
But the real problem arises when we reject those changes, when we try to cling to a past that no longer exists.
Crusch stares at me, her eyes slightly swollen, revealing that she has been crying. I try to hold her gaze, searching for something inside her, but it's as if there's an invisible barrier between us.
"I think it's Fourier who will try to kill you, and that's why I'm scared," she confesses, her voice trembling with every word.
Confusion reflects in her expression. It's clear that the current Fourier isn't the person she remembers, but at the same time, he is. In body and soul, he possesses everything he once was.
The essence remains, but he's changed; it's like a distant echo of who he used to be.
'It's confusing.'
"Did he say anything that made you let me be alone with him?" I ask, trying to understand her concern.
"I don't know; he didn't really say anything to me," she replies, diverting her gaze before turning her back on me. "I'm just connecting the dots. I'm sure they'll try to kill you during or after the second confrontation."
"We have the trap; everything will be fine," I tell her, smiling as I try to get closer.
I feel the distance she's creating, and while I don't think it's right, I also recognize that I must be cautious. I can't act without considering the information she has provided.
"Thanks for telling me," I say, turning away to think clearly about how to uncover what Fourier is plotting.
If he's appeared, it's sure to find a way to take advantage of the situation, to claim credit for our success. Garfield and Felt must be on their way already, and we need to demonstrate more forcefully how serious this threat is.
The pressure mounts as I think of everyone who understands the importance of finding a culprit.
The situation is delicate, and the strategy must be precise.
"Once Erick speaks, I'll be able to..."
Bang!
The sound of the gunshot echoes like thunder in my ears. My body trembles, and a sharp burning sensation erupts in my abdomen, a wave of heat spreading like a raging fire.
"Huh?" I look down, and horror paralyzes me: a dark hole opens in my stomach, a jet of blood escaping and soaking the fabric of my clothes.
Bang!
"Die!" Crusch's voice thunders, distorted yet clear, filled with rage and pain. My heart pounds hard, like a war drum, as panic takes over me.
I try to turn, but my legs feel like they are dead weight.
I fall to the ground.
'I can't move my legs.'
I drag my body toward the door, the cold surface of the floor reminding me that I'm in a real place, but every inch I advance feels like a titanic struggle.
"Die! Die for everything you've done!"
Bang!
The third shot pierces the air, and the world around me begins to fade. Shadows slip away, and echoes of forgotten memories blend with the sound of her voice.
The footsteps fade, but Crusch's screams are clear and piercing.
"They're Yang bullets! Made to kill the monsters that fell at the witch's hands! I knew you weren't normal! There was a reason!"
I glance at the necklace beside me, stained with blood.
'Betty.'
I see my daughter laughing, her laughter like music in my ears.
Memories of afternoons spent with Emilia and Crusch, all of us together, sharing snacks and dreams. The sunlight pouring through the window, the warmth of the moment; those times feel so vivid that I can almost touch them.
I continue to drag myself, each movement becoming a monumental effort. The pain in my abdomen is just part of the suffering; my soul feels heavy, trapped between the pain of betrayal and the longing for those happy days.
"I should have done this the moment I saw you! You, monster!"
Though my heart wants to break, I still care.
"Crusch… why?" My voice is barely a whisper, a thread of desperation.
Bang!
Darkness envelops me, heavy and cold, and I feel my last life slipping away, like a whisper in the breeze. Each beat of my heart slows, and in the midst of the gloom, only deep pain remains.
'How cruel…'
The darkness consumes me, taking my thoughts, my memories, and leaving only an empty echo in their place.