The Price of Victory

How long had this battle raged?

Could her body possibly endure such intense spellcasting?

No, none of that truly mattered; for Aivy, only one thing held paramount importance.

She simply could not afford to lose.

Her name was Aivy, simply Aivy, without a surname. Before she became ‘Aivy of the Weinshield family,’ her full name comprised only those two unassuming syllables.

Over a decade ago, when she was merely a naive country girl, she first encountered Lucius, a boy her own age.

Lucius Weinshield, the young knight who always hovered around her, was then a paragon of bravery, brimming with ideals and ardent passion.

Ignoring his butler’s protests, Lucius would pull her—’that wild child from who knows where’—into the dense woods for adventures, or down to the river to catch fish. He would take her hand, tuck flowers into her hair, call her ‘Princess,’ and fervently vow to protect her forever.

At first, she understood. She was a country girl, and Lucius, a child of nobility. Their paths were not meant to intertwine; they were merely temporary playmates. One day, Lucius would marry a girl of his own standing, while she would remain forever in the fields, living out her days with her poor yet loving parents.

But Fate, that cruel and mischievous imp, seemed to delight in toying with people’s lives.

Then, one day, the adults of the Weinshield family discovered Aivy’s divine magic talent. Believing money could procure anything, these nobles offered her parents a hefty sum, proposing to ‘buy her’ if they agreed.

Her parents refused, yet Aivy herself stepped forward and assented.

Indeed, her parents would become wealthy, and she could live under the same roof as Lucius. It felt like the greatest gift destiny could bestow upon her.

She diligently learned to read and write, studied divine magic, and her body matured with each passing day. She was no longer that country girl, yet the conviction in her heart remained unshaken: she believed that if she simply excelled, Lucius would cherish her even more than before.

However, reality proved to be far less accommodating.

If only, after all that, Lucius had taken her out to play just one more time.

She had meticulously chosen her new dresses, poured so much thought into them; if only, amidst his family duties, Lucius had spared her another glance.

After that banquet, she had drunk herself into a stupor, collapsing onto Lucius’s bed. If only Lucius had returned to his room that night, had come back to hold her…

“Why…”

“Why did Lucius consort with Mejga? Why did he prefer to bring that repulsive man into his bed rather than touch her, even once?!”

“Why did he gaze at Paresha with such lustful eyes? What made that wretched woman superior to her?!”

“Today was a momentous day; she was the cynosure of all eyes in the arena, having vanquished countless foes. Why, then, did he on the stands fixate on that obscure Haia, a girl he had previously shown no interest in?!”

“And why, after she had fought tooth and nail, eliminating these two thorns in her side, did Lucius wear such an expression of regret?!!”

Was it because she simply wasn’t good enough? It had to be!

“‘If only I… if only I became a Divine Officer… he would surely…'”

Aivy spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, propping herself up with her long staff, forcing herself to complete the next spell.

A slender spear of light shot from her staff, grazing a Divine Guard’s calf. The guard lost balance, collapsing to the ground, and curled up with a groan, making no attempt to rise.

Only she and Phillo remained in the arena.

She tirelessly chanted incantations, launching spears of light that grew increasingly erratic in form. She knew she was nearing her breaking point.

A luminous orb struck Phillo’s faceplate, instantly sending him sprawling. His helmet clattered away as he tumbled, yet he swiftly grabbed a shield and charged back towards Aivy.

“You stop right there!”

Phillo roared, raising his weapon, his fiery red hair streaming behind him like a crimson tongue of flame, darting directly towards Aivy’s position.

A heavy clanking sound, like some chain mechanism, echoed from behind her. Aivy paid it no mind; come what may, she had to deal with Phillo first. She had to claim the final victory.

“Did you hear me?! Aivy!!!”

Phillo’s shout intensified threefold. Simultaneously, Aivy suddenly heard a low growl erupt beside her ear.

“A monster!”

Aivy’s pupils dilated in shock, a profound sense of peril sending needle-like stings through her spine. She whirled around towards the source of the roar.

What greeted her was a rigid tentacle, tipped with deadly barbs, thrusting directly towards her eyes—

Her spellcasting abruptly ceased. Aivy, utterly powerless to resist, shrieked as she collapsed to the ground.

“Clang!”

Phillo fiercely blocked the Fallen’s attack with his shield. Several rigid tentacles shattered the shield’s rim, and one directly pierced its face, leaving a deep gash across his chest.

Seeing its ambush fail, the Fallen shifted its target, furiously slashing at Phillo with its claws. Simultaneously, the rigid tentacles on its back elongated and extended, plunging downwards towards Phillo’s crown!

Phillo released his shield, dual-wielding his greatswords in an upward parry, fending off several of the monster’s rigid tentacles above his head. While he successfully neutralized this primary assault, the creature’s claws remained unimpeded, striking Phillo’s elbow.

The Divine Guard gasped sharply, his entire left arm instantly gushing with blood.

The offensive and defensive techniques prized by warriors typically assume that both combatants can only execute one action at a time. This, however, was clearly not applicable to the Fallen.

The alien monster’s advantage lay not just in its superior agility and strength, but also in its diverse array of attack methods. The Fallen before them, for instance, could launch multiple, disparate attacks from various directions simultaneously.

To fight such a creature was akin to clashing with several death-defying, perfectly coordinated assassins. It often required several times its number of seasoned warriors just to contend with it.

“These bastards… why release it now, of all times, instead of sooner or later?!”

Phillo grumbled, snatching up his greatsword to fiercely attack the monster.

The Fallen extended its neck, the myriad pores on its head writhing as they ‘hissed’ and expelled a hazy, grey smoke.

Stung by the smoke, Phillo squinted, covering his mouth and nose as he retreated, not forgetting to pull along a bewildered Aivy.

“Snap out of it! Once we’ve dealt with this beast, I’ll have a reckoning with you!”

****

“My dear lady… do you understand how close you came to causing a disaster?”

The lean-figured Rogni crossed his arms, blocking Kaelan’s path, his expression displeased.

“If Nazareth’s scouts hadn’t reported to me in time, you would have actually stormed into the arena. In front of everyone, you, single-handedly, would have charged in to disrupt the games. Where would that leave our Brotherhood’s reputation?”

“Hmph…”

Kaelan gazed at the perilous battle unfolding in the arena, her delicate brows slightly furrowed, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes.

“Do you truly believe you can stop me?”

“No, I couldn’t. The Shadowscale Gang just sent an urgent report stating you’re a witch.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“You misunderstand, Lady Hillburg. We’re here because we just struck a deal with Nazareth, and at his request, we’ve come to resolve your predicament.”

Kaelan’s eyes widened.

“Nazareth… what about him?”

“He said he needed a friend pulled out, absolutely not to let that person die, and also that you should thank him. Rest assured, if the situation spirals out of control, we’ll extract her even at the cost of our reputation… Her name is Haia, the young lady with the greatsword, right?”

Apparently, in the Brotherhood’s estimation, the situation had not yet spiraled beyond control.

‘Nazareth, a friend…?’

Rogni’s explanation visibly eased Kaelan’s expression.

“This is the final stage. Aivy is likely the best performer in the arena. We released the monster as a final test for the victor, to gauge the extent of her capabilities. You needn’t worry; we have ballistas deployed around the perimeter, so we won’t allow the monster to simply slaughter people.”

Kaelan nodded, her gaze returning to the arena.

Several Divine Guards who had surrendered, but still retained mobility, rose to their feet and began tending to the severely wounded Saranya. One Divine Guard, wielding a long-handled hammer-spear, rushed to the edge of the pit, calling out Paresha’s name, and inverted his weapon, thrusting it into the pit, hoping Paresha would notice and use the shaft to climb out.

Kaelan watched the pit, then her brow suddenly twitched. She opened her mouth and spoke a series of fluid, unintelligible Elvish phrases—”Hmm, that one agreed…”

“What?”

Rogni scratched his head, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Kaelan exhaled a long breath, her expression returning to normal as a faint smile touched her lips.

“It’s nothing. You were right; she won’t die.”

“Right? Losing is one thing, but that young lady is exceptionally brave, and her teammates are quite dependable. How could she possibly die so easily!”

“No…”

“Hm?”

“They will win.”

For the ritual was complete.

Within the pit where Paresha lay, a brilliant flash suddenly erupted. A silver column of light shot straight from the pit’s depths into the sky, the ground began to tremble, and the panicked cries of the spectators filled the entire arena.

“Look! Something’s coming out of the pit!!”