A Desperate Charge and a Master’s Regret

“Phillo, can you hold off those sailors?”

Saranya seamlessly rejoined the allied ranks, her greatsword sweeping from her side. With a powerful overhead thrust, executed in a perfect ox-stance, she decapitated another foe.

By this juncture, Dalia’s faction was reduced to four, and Aivy’s to five. Saranya’s group, however, excluding the disconnected Paresha, had only suffered one casualty, leaving six warriors still capable of fighting, though they found themselves ringed by the enemy.

In stark contrast to Saranya’s aggressive approach, Phillo’s combat style was notably more conservative. This divine guard fought shoulder-to-shoulder with his comrades, adeptly employing a standard plow stance to deliver precise thrusts to the enemies’ lower bodies.

Upon hearing Saranya’s urgent command, Phillo surged forward, shifting into a fierce field-battle stance. His right hand clenched the greatsword’s secondary guard, while his left slid down to the pommel, thumbs opposing, transforming the massive weapon into a formidable, short-spear-like instrument.

“Leave it to me. Do what you must!”

Phillo unleashed a rapid series of short, sharp thrusts, driving back the handful of sailors before him.

“Lend me your shoulder!”

Saranya hoisted her weapon and leaped skyward. Phillo’s shoulder guard groaned under her boot with a sharp *crunch*, and he choked back a mouthful of bloody foam. Her second step found purchase on a divine guard’s raised shield, the added leverage catapulting her even higher. Her greatsword, poised like a scorpion’s tail, hung menacingly overhead before descending with savage force upon the Bloodsail Alliance shieldbearers!

The Midas City guards were not slow to react. Several halberds instantly swiveled, their gleaming blades whipping towards Saranya as she hung suspended in the air.

“You’re courting death!!!”

Saranya’s blood-streaked abdominal armor scraped against the axe blades, showering sparks into the air. She twisted her body mid-leap, her long hair, freed from her shattered helmet, thrashing wildly as she spun.

“Oh my god—”

Once more, like a demon cast from the heavens, the legion commander, a whirlwind of steel and flesh, plunged into the frantic enemy ranks.

“Ahhh—”

“Cough, cough… What… what *is* this—!!!”

Massive clouds of glittering smoke erupted, utterly shattering the enemy’s formation. Dalia and Aivy were compelled to abandon their spells, swiftly withdrawing and leaving their comrades behind.

From the swirling haze of smoke, the swordswoman’s figure burst forth like a phantom, bypassing the panicking guards to launch a final, desperate assault on Dalia!

Magic-drained, Dalia half-knelt on the ground, struggling to lift her short staff. A spell was halfway through her lips when Saranya, having closed the distance, lunged to her side and delivered a powerful shove…

Dalia’s body listed, then toppled rigidly to the ground, her limbs thrashing in violent spasms. She would not rise again.

Beside Dalia’s fallen form, Saranya lowered her arm, the gears of her alchemical gauntlet whirring softly as they automatically chambered the next paralyzing wrist arrow.

Outwardly, it appeared she had struck Dalia’s vital point with a clean, close-quarters blow, thus sparing herself the ignominy of using a cowardly ranged projectile…

‘She won…’

‘She would win…’

‘The battles to come… the divine guards would surely emerge victorious…’

‘She would atone for her failures, avenge Paresha…’

“Master…”

Saranya gasped with a strange pleasure, half her face smeared with blood, as a guttural, maniacal laugh tore from her throat.

The crowd’s cheers erupted like a surging tide, washing over the entire arena.

The remaining Midas City guards, their spirit broken, cast aside their weapons, their will to fight utterly extinguished.

“Dalia is down!”

“Quick, support Miss Haia!”

Such a devastating charge, however, came at a steep cost. Saranya’s left armguard had been shattered and torn away, her breastplate was completely caved in, and nearly every other piece of her armor was damaged beyond repair, leaving her utterly exposed.

“Behind! Behind!!”

Phillo’s desperate shout rang in her ears. Saranya instinctively twisted her head, only to feel a sudden, jarring push from behind…

No, no one had pushed her.

She glanced down, her gaze falling upon a spear of pure light erupting from her abdomen. In the next instant, thick, crimson blood surged forth like a ruptured fountain, gushing wildly from both the front and back of her body—

“Gurgle gurgle”

Foaming, scarlet blood pooled rapidly beneath her, forming a shallow, ever-widening stain.

She was bleeding out at an alarming rate.

“Ha…”

“Uhm—”

Her weapon clattered to the ground. She turned her head weakly, her eyes falling upon Aivy standing behind her, long staff raised. A silver arc of magic flared, the staff’s tip now pointed directly at Saranya’s heart.

Gritting her teeth, she mustered her last reserves of strength, lifting her arm to unleash a single wrist arrow at Aivy.

Aivy merely sneered, shifting her staff slightly. A shimmering curtain of light flickered into existence before her, effortlessly deflecting the wrist arrow.

“Damn… it…”

With the Midas City guards’ resistance gone, Phillo spearheaded the divine guards’ charge through the Bloodsail sailors’ ranks, swiftly reaching Saranya’s side.

“Lord Phillo, she… she’s fading!”

Saranya’s fighting spirit had finally been extinguished. The strength drained from her supporting arms, and she began to collapse towards the ground.

‘You meddling bastards, I… I *must* win, I *must* win…’

Through her blurring vision, Saranya watched as a flicker of madness ignited on Aivy’s face. The sorceress raised her long staff high above her head, simultaneously summoning dozens of radiant light spears. To Saranya’s horror, Aivy began to unleash them indiscriminately, showering both divine guards and remaining sailors alike.

In that instant, divine guards and those sailors too slow to raise their shields fell dead or wounded, their agonized cries rising in a cacophony across the arena.

Following this devastating attack, Aivy clearly suffered from magical overexertion, spitting out a mouthful of fresh blood.

Saranya thrashed in her own growing pool of blood, managing to roll onto her back as her consciousness began to waver.

Through the fading haze, she saw Phillo, a spear protruding from his shoulder, snatch up his greatsword with one hand. He strode through her pooling blood, roaring his fury as he charged towards Aivy.

‘It seemed… she was dying…’

‘In this ridiculous, public spectacle, she had been observed, reviled, and ultimately impaled by a witch’s magic…’

‘At least she hadn’t disgraced the Kerfen family.’

‘Yet, she had failed to protect Paresha, and had been defeated by Aivy. She had disappointed her Master…’

‘Ultimately, she should have remained steadfast in her mission the first time she encountered Kaelan, allowing Kaelan to kill her then.’

‘She was a coward, and for a coward to meet her end in such a fashion, she felt a strange contentment…’

‘Let it all end… just like this…’

Saranya slowly closed her eyes.

****

“Saranya…”

“Saranya!”

‘Master.’

‘Her Master was calling her.’

Kaelan’s voice echoed within her mind, stirring Saranya to a slight flutter of her eyelids. For a moment, she was unsure how to respond to her Master.

“Saranya, answer me!”

Kaelan’s voice was laced with desperation, and Saranya could sense the torrent of raw emotion spilling from her.

Finally, with immense effort, she drew a ragged breath, her reply to her Master a mere whisper of air:

“I’m sorry… Paresha, she…”

“Saranya, use Ice Armor to seal the wound.”

“Master… I’m sorry…”

“Saranya! This is your Master’s command! Do as I say, quickly!”

“I… can’t…”

“I’m coming now, Saranya, wait for me!”

Saranya made no movement.

Kaelan’s voice was choked with a sob, and dark, ash-grey arcane energy flared around her as she sprinted with unnatural speed, circling the astonished audience.

Disregarding the astonished stares of onlookers, she frantically channeled acceleration magic, hurtling towards Saranya’s fallen form.

Kaelan was consumed by a profound regret, a searing remorse for not having stood beside Saranya in the arena. She had been so fixated on her own intricate plans, so fearful of her identity being exposed, that a mere word of persuasion from Saranya had been enough to relegate her to the role of a spectator.

Inexplicably, a vivid image from the previous night kept flashing through her mind: Saranya pressing down on her. Every time Kaelan had offered a moment of intimacy, Saranya would fix her with that same fervent, burning gaze, just as she had in bed. Kaelan understood the intensity of that look all too well.

From the very first glance, Kaelan had understood the depths of Saranya’s heart.

Saranya hated her, feared her, and yet was utterly consumed by Kaelan’s dominance. Their relationship, a truly twisted dynamic, had evolved to this point where Saranya would accept all of Kaelan’s humiliations and abuses without a single word of complaint…

Kaelan understood, she understood it all—the workings of Saranya’s heart. What Saranya most desperately craved was to possess her.

And what of Kaelan? She had exploited this mercilessly, constantly toying with Saranya. Suppressing her own burgeoning feelings, she would offer Saranya a fleeting taste of sweetness, only to immediately demand more, relentlessly pushing her to achieve Kaelan’s ambitions. Everything Kaelan had in Vero, Saranya had provided, yet Kaelan had done nothing but inflict pain in return.

“…”

‘She was so utterly despicable.’

Only now did the crushing realization dawn upon her: if Saranya were truly gone… then all of Kaelan’s “magnificent” plans, if they could not be whispered to Saranya, if she could not witness Saranya’s radiant smile in response…

‘Then all of it… wouldn’t it be utterly meaningless?’

A painful spasm seized Kaelan’s stomach, sending her crumpling to the ground, where she began to retch uncontrollably.

“No, Saranya, please… give me another chance…”

Scrambling clumsily to her feet, Kaelan’s words tumbled out, raw and uncontrolled:

“Saranya, let’s kiss! I’ll kiss you, do you hear me? I’ll give you what you want, you desire this, don’t you…? Just live… just survive and I’ll reward you… *Kiss me!*”