{Nicholas Anstalionah.}
Following my orders, we set out.
I had arrived at Fort Havel with a massive force.
A weight meant to crush anything in our path, and now we left it behind diminished.
Only around ten thousand rode with me, while the greater host marched north, exactly as I had planned.
The division was deliberate, almost surgical.
If events unfolded as expected, Horia would have no choice but to meet us head on, drawn in by what appeared to be a weakness.
Of course, I had accounted for more than appearances.
After finally acknowledging her position, I sent Malachi and Kivana with the northern army.
The objective was simple in theory, though dangerous in execution. Separate Madikai from Hoira.
If fortune favored us, Malachi would confront Madikai directly.
The thought pleased me more than I cared to admit.
Malachi never lost to the same opponent twice, and removing Madikai from the field would leave only Rosen and Horia for Mirabel and me.
That was a battlefield I understood. Or, at the very least, one I was prepared to stand upon.
As we rode, Mirabel was unusually quiet. Her posture was steady, her gaze fixed forward, yet her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
The silence unsettled me more than any shouted warning could have.
This war had gone terribly.
Nearly everything that could have gone wrong had done so, one failure stacking atop another.
Still, it was better than the original projection. Barely.
I wanted to minimize losses, not out of mercy, but out of caution.
The Golden Authority had not yet moved, and that restraint worried me far more than open hostility ever could.
Griffin's visit had only confirmed my suspicions.
Whatever holiness they claimed was a lie polished for convenience.
If they were truly righteous, they would have intervened to mediate, not linger in silence like spectators awaiting entertainment.
God does not crave suffering.
He condemns it.
"Mirabel," I said at last, breaking the silence. "Are you regretting trusting me?"
She turned her head and met my eyes. Her expression was calm, unguarded, almost painfully honest.
"Not really," she replied. "I'm thinking about the risks."
Her grip tightened on the reins, knuckles paling as the leather creaked softly beneath her fingers.
"I don't want you to be hurt."
That was troublesome.
Rosen was beyond my ability to defeat directly. I knew that. I had accepted it long ago.
What I possessed instead was a method, a precise and carefully constructed way to negate his Regalia.
It was inelegant, unglamorous, and utterly dependent on timing, but it would work.
"Don't worry too much," I said lightly.
"I'm worthless. Nothing good or bad can come from my death."
Her expression hardened immediately. I had expected that. I also knew I would keep saying it until reality itself proved me wrong.
"Ignoring that," she said, her voice sharper now, edged with something dangerous,
"If you're hurt, it will still be a problem for me. I have a fragile heart."
She exhaled slowly, as though restraining something vast and volatile.
"This place may tremble in its wake."
Ah. There it was.
The danger was not merely the enemy before us.
It was Mirabel's anger, a force far less predictable and far more absolute than any army or divine construct.
And to my own surprise, I found that I liked that risk.
"Don't worry, my love," I said. "This world will surely accept your rage."
She shook her head, eyes returning to the horizon. "Only a fool in love would say that."
I laughed, unable to help myself.
"A fool, yes," I replied. "In love, even more so. What else could I possibly be?"
Her expression shifted subtly, and her posture tightened.
"Nicholas," she said quietly,
"There seems to be a spectator. I'm assuming your guess was correct. Horia must be here."
The air grew stiff, locking itself around us with a great darkness and an even greater deceit.
The King in Yellow was surely present. My chest tightened as memory surfaced unbidden.
In my past life, Mirabel had fallen here. She had died. That was something I could never accept.
Sansir's survival proved it was possible to change outcomes.
So the fault lay with me.
I looked at her then, truly looked. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
That small, interested, unsettled smile rested on her lips, perfect in its quiet confidence.
I could never let this go. Never allow a world where this did not exist.
I truly was worthless.
Because without her, without this moment, I would have no value, no worth, no will.
I raised my hand and snapped my palm into a fist.
"Halt!"
Mirabel stopped her horse instantly, and I did the same. There was no point in sending them forward.
Horia would slaughter them. I needed to do something, anything, to save their lives.
"All of you!" I shouted, turning back toward the formation.
"Go back. Then, at the sign of the next rising sun, charge!"
They hesitated, confusion rippling through the ranks, but obedience won out.
They turned back, retreating until I could no longer hear their armor or see their banners in the distance.
Mirabel dismounted and cracked her knuckles, her tone almost casual.
"You are a good person."
I dropped from my horse as well. "Who wouldn't send them back?"
She giggled softly. "Each and every one of them was definitely stronger than you."
I turned to her with a frown. "That held animosity within it, didn't it?"
She placed a finger against her lip, feigning thought.
"Did it? I wouldn't know. I'm just a strong beauty."
I stepped past her and drew my sword, or rather pulled it free with its scabbard still attached.
"They may hold more power," I said, challenging her. "But do they have my skill?"
She walked beside me and patted my back. "Definitely not. You are my prized pupil."
[Nicholas was a foolish person, accepting such baseless praise. He knew she was biased. He did not care.]
Why would I? She was my lover. Of course I would accept anything she said. It was only right.
I shook my head and lowered my sword to rest against my leg, then brought my palms together, fingers locking as I whispered a prayer.
"O' Great Darkness of Mercy and Warmth, gift me your will, your worth, and your redemption."
Cradella answered, returning my prayer with a gift of power. It was not much.
Heeding her call, my sword was imbued with might.
She must have been asked too many times already. What need would Nicole have for more power?
Such a greedy big sister I had, though I supposed that came with envy.
Mirabel watched me carefully as I lifted my sword again. Then she reached out, her hand snapping closed.
My eyes caught the motion as an arrow appeared in her deadly grasp.
"Rosen is here," she said calmly,
"and from that suffocating aura, Horia as well. Dreadful, I'd say."
It did not take long for them to appear at the edge of my vision.
Horia, clad in yellow, radiated an aura that made it difficult to look at him.
Even the concept of breath felt stilled in his presence.
Not to discredit Rosen, who stood nearly as powerful beside him. I could see now why Nicole had lost.
Mirabel summoned her sword, long and dark red, its surface mirroring her armor as though both had been forged from the same singular intent.
The blade hummed softly, not with sound, but with pressure, as if the air itself recoiled from its presence.
"You will be met with a power, my love." She said, her voice calm.
"It will not be tame like a calm sea. It will be raging, wild, like one driven mad."
I lifted my sword as Rosen drew back another arrow.
His posture was effortless, practiced, the kind born from absolute confidence.
"I can see that much." I replied.
The arrow came.
In that instant, the world sharpened. My perception stretched forward, tracing the arrow's path before it fully existed.
Four walls ahead of me.
That was where it would be. To stop it without perfect form should have been impossible.
And yet.
My body moved, tempered by countless failures and honed by gifts I barely deserved.
Defiance met inevitability, and I deflected the attack, the impact shuddering up my arms and into my spine.
I did not stop.
I surged forward, placing myself before Mirabel, boots tearing across the ground as I ran.
Runes flared to life beneath my touch, carved in quick, practiced strokes along my blade and arms.
Each symbol burned with purpose, draining itself into existence.
Rosen's next attack came faster. Stronger.
The runes answered.
They resisted the strike, unraveling one by one as they fulfilled their function.
Power bled away from them, but it was enough.
I deflected the arrow and skidded to a halt.
Rosen and Horia, stood before me, in unison without any sign of strain, only a small pity as if staring at a lowly bug.
My hands shook, my fingers trembled.
Runes burst outward from me, countless and dense, flooding the space between us.
They filled the air until it no longer felt like air at all, as though the very particles of the world had been overwritten by my intent.
I tightened my grip, forcing my shaking hands to still. "Here and now, I shall reveal to you, my might!"