The Savior in the Dark

Judging by the demonic beasts bursting through the stage floor below, escaping downward was out of the question. Meanwhile, the passage they had originally been guided through was a churning nightmare, choked by panicked crowds stampeding for their lives. Pushing through that chaos was impossible.

In that sense, Debbie’s suggestion hadn't been entirely wrong, but Titania hesitated before asking, "We’re underground. How are we supposed to blow away the entire ceiling?"

Lisianthus ground his teeth. "…I can do it. You know what my power can do, right? If I torch everything in our way, we’ll make it out somehow."

"No. That’s far too dangerous."

"You’re really saying that right now?!" Lisianthus snapped, his temper flaring. "Just because you handled those beasts in the Imperial Palace with relative ease, do you think they’re a joke? Even by your own guess, someone intentionally unleashed them in this very room…!"

"I know. I thought the chances were fifty-fifty."

Titania fought to keep her thoughts cool and detached.

A mousetrap. Or perhaps live bait.

Though she hadn't pinned down the exact identity of their enemy, every single item she had consigned to this black-market auction was bait tailor-made to pique their interest. Even if Cronen succeeded in bidding on the Holy Relic, she had wondered how they intended to secure the sword. Would they hire a respectable nobleman to place the bid for them? Ambush the winning bidder afterward? Or…

…Raid the auction house itself, just like when they attacked Young Count Phlux.

She had held out hope they might choose a moderate approach. After all, anything could be bought at an auction so long as one had the gold, and their shadowy opponents hardly seemed lacking in funds. Or perhaps they would quietly swap the goods during transit after the final gavel fell. Either way, she assumed anyone wishing to obtain the items intact would act with at least a shred of discretion.

For them to strike like this could only mean one thing.

Either they don't care if the relics are destroyed in the crossfire, they believe artifacts of that caliber can't be broken by mere violence, or they'd rather see them obliterated than let them fall into anyone else's hands.

Every possibility was the worst-case scenario.

She had known there was a risk they might suspect a trap, wondering why an Imperial Princess's lost sword had suddenly surfaced in an underground black market. Even so, with an imperial bloodline tied to the matter, she had expected them to move with a measure of caution.

Her plan had been to trace whichever nobles placed bids today, map out who the enemy had compromised, and uncover just how deeply their tentacles had wrapped around the city. Instead, they had launched an all-out assault—utterly indifferent to casualties, not caring who lived or died, and devoid of any fear of exposure.

A monstrous shriek ripped through the air as Lisianthus severed a lunging beast in two. "Damn it, they just keep coming! If we stay here any longer, we’re dead!"

"Head this way for now!"

—Contractor!

The shrill, panicked voice of the Emoticon Sword suddenly exploded in her mind.

—Right now, right there, that thing is—!

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Your Highness!"

"Titania!"

Lisianthus’s desperate scream sounded oddly muffled and far away. So did Debbie’s alarm, and Phlux’s terrified gasp. Time seemed to grind to a halt. Titania's body was lifted into the air by an unseen impact, the sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knocked violently from her grasp.

With a suffocating gasp, she slammed against the stone floor. Blinking blearily against the haze clouding her vision, she managed to open her eyes just enough to make out the figure standing over her.

It was a girl dressed as a maid.

Her skin was waxen and drained of all color, her face an unmoving mask. Hair cut neatly to the nape of her neck and blank, bead-like eyes were both dyed the vivid violet of a primrose. She had the delicate, porcelain features of an expensive doll, her petite frame looking no older than Titania herself—yet resting in her slender hands was a massive spear dripping with fresh blood.

Ah. She was the one who just hit me.

The world spun violently around her.

Lisianthus hurled himself at the maid with savage fury, pouring every ounce of his wrath into his blade, but the girl parried each vicious strike with effortless precision. She moved less like a living human and more like a lethal, unfeeling weapon.

Debbie moved to sprint toward Titania, only to freeze as a tide of demonic beasts surged between them. Phlux was pinned down in the exact same predicament.

"Damn it! Where did these things come from all of a sudden?!"

"Run, Your Highness!"

"No." The doll-like girl parted her lips. Seeing only her mouth move on that frozen, expressionless face was eerie beyond words. "I will take you. Master's orders. Primrose must obey."

"Stop spouting absolute madness!" Lisianthus roared, unleashing torrents of flame without caring who saw his power. Demonic beasts shrieked as they were reduced to ash, but their numbers were overwhelming—and the girl was impossibly strong. Lisianthus fought desperately, sheer disbelief etched into his face as he barely held her at bay.

The beasts that had previously been chasing the fleeing crowd had now completely shifted their focus. They bore down relentlessly upon their group—or more precisely, upon Titania. Swarmed from all sides, neither Debbie nor Phlux could close the distance to reach her.

Titania reached a trembling hand toward the Emoticon Sword lying several paces away. Hadn't she managed to summon the blade to her hand without touching it once before? Was that only possible because she had been wearing Gloriana's Insignia at the time?

I was careless.

With Lisianthus and Debbie by her side, and her own ability to incinerate most beasts using the sacred sword, she had foolishly believed they wouldn't be in any real danger. Demonic energy posed no threat to her, and even if someone were tainted, she could simply purify it. She had grown complacent.

I was so stupid…

Her thoughts sluggishly drifted apart, scrambled from the crushing impact against the stone floor. If she was captured like this, what would happen? Would she become a hostage? Or a test subject for whatever dark ritual they were brewing? What did they even want from her?

As she dragged her battered body toward the fallen sword, a spider-like monstrosity crept up beside her, raising a jagged, barbed appendage.

Crunch!

The hook tore into her flesh, and her body convulsed violently under the sickening shock.

"…!"

Pain. A white-hot agony tore through the fog in her skull.

No. I can’t become a burden…

Phlux couldn't even wield a sword properly. If he died because she had dragged him into this mess, what would she do? And Debbie? Debbie was here as part of an agreement; she couldn't die here. And Lisianthus—if he lost control and went berserk, incinerating the entire subterranean district, what then? Bibi would weep.

Her consciousness frayed at the edges.

Am I going to die? Like this? After all of it… is this how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it ends?

"Titania!"

For a fleeting second, she was certain her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. The golden eyes that seemed almost paralyzed by terror, the faint tremor trembling along his set jaw—it felt entirely unreal.

How strange it was. Every single time she thought her life had reached its bitter, inevitable end, she would look up to see him reaching out for her. Always standing there, as though he were a savior sent to drag her back from the very jaws of death…

Her eyelids fell shut, and the world went dark.

A blade manifested in the blink of an eye, cleaving the air with unbridled fury.

Raymon’s gaze was no longer that of a mortal man; it burned like raw lightning. The golden sheen in his eyes was so savage, so murderously sharp, that it looked capable of tearing apart and consuming everything in its path.

Veins corded tightly across the back of the hand gripping his hilt. Having shattered clean through a masonry wall, the young duke advanced step by step, his pitch-black blade carving dark tempests through the subterranean hall. Demonic beasts caught in the wake of that howling vortex were shredded to ribbons, raining down in heaps of severed flesh.

The maid whom Lisianthus had struggled so desperately to contain was met by Raymon without the slightest hesitation. Steel met spearhead in a piercing screech of sparks.

Clang! Crash!

Overpowered by monstrous strength, the girl was flung backward through the air. Any ordinary swordsman would have pressed the advantage to sever the enemy's neck, but Raymon abruptly broke his stance and bolted in the opposite direction. He sprinted straight toward the corner where Titania lay motionless on the stone floor.

"Titania!"

Raw agony tore through his voice. Without a second’s hesitation, Raymon dropped to his knees and gathered her limp, broken form into his arms. Beneath the crooked disguise of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her wig, strands of bright golden hair spilled free, her heavy makeup smeared and ruined by the skirmish. She had disguised herself thoroughly so no one would recognize an imperial princess, and in this pitiful, battered state, she hardly resembled royalty at all. Yet Raymon had locked onto her almost by sheer instinct.

Cold reason whispered in his ear: The maid is too dangerous for Lisianthus to handle alone. She hasn't been subdued. Hand Titania to Debbie and take down the enemy first.

Instinct snarled back at him: You would surrender her to someone else? Can you truly let her go?

No. He could not.

Raymon ground his molars so hard they creaked. Her body felt impossibly light in his embrace, a sickening wave of déjà vu crashing over him. He was instantly pulled back to that day in the Imperial Palace, when she had lost consciousness while throwing her very life away to shield Bibi from harm.

Why?

Why was it always her? Why did this girl have to bleed again and again?

It was utterly unjust.

A suffocating, nameless desperation seized his mind, drowning out everything else.