Chapter 35

“Since you’re a Wintercrown, you’re also an Anfante. It’s simply out of the question for an Anfante not to be able to handle fire.”

“But no matter how much I practice, I just don’t get fire magic. Abstract magic is easy…”

“Is that so? What’s the hardest part about fire magic for you?”

“Fire is just too fickle. Abstract magic turns out exactly as I think it will, but fire does whatever it wants. No matter how much I practice, it just doesn’t work.”

“Oh dear, Aethlyn. Looks like you’ll never be able to cast a fireball, then?”

“That won’t do…”

The woman smiled faintly toward the tearful Aethlyn.

“Aethlyn. You have to think of that fire as yourself. You mustn’t get annoyed just because it does as it pleases.”

“But if that’s me, doesn’t that mean it should do what I want?”

Aethlyn replied with her arms crossed, as if she couldn’t understand it at all. Watching her quietly, the woman whispered softly.

“Not necessarily.”

In a trembling voice that was barely audible, she said:

“There are parts of myself that even I cannot control.”

“Pardon?”

“……”

As Aethlyn tilted her head in confusion, the woman chuckled lowly once more.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Then, the woman’s hand, pale enough that the bluish veins were clearly visible, wrapped around young Aethlyn’s small hand. Before the horrific scars ever formed, a tiny, blue magic circuit surfaced over the smooth back of the child’s hand.

She poured her own magical power into Aethlyn’s circuit.

“Now, try following my lead, Aethlyn.”

[Aturaura.]

At the same time, Aethlyn’s vision grew clear once more. It felt as though an immense amount of time had passed, yet also as though mere fractions of a second had slipped away.

The one who greeted her upon regaining consciousness was the Red Knight’s pair of eyes. The viewing slit of his helmet, dark as a deep cavern. Within that darkness, the flickering red irises glowed bright as pomegranates. Rather than feeling terrified, Aethlyn found the sight utterly absurd and almost funny.

‘Ha… Even the Red Knight’s eyeballs are red.’

If by some miracle she made it back alive, she wouldn’t keep anything red near her ever again. Aethlyn resolved within herself.

Meanwhile, the Red Knight seemed quite pleased that Aethlyn had regained consciousness. He let out a low, hearty chuckle that went on for a while.

“That’s it, open your eyes, Wintercrown. Take a good, clear look at this body with those pathetic eyes of yours. Wouldn’t it be much more fun to break you that way?”

‘……’

Listening to the Red Knight launch into yet another long-winded speech, she suddenly felt that something was amiss. No matter how tightly her throat was being squeezed, Aethlyn’s tongue and left hand were still intact. That meant there was still a chance to counterattack.

‘I have to do something right now.’

However, Aethlyn’s hope was short-lived.

‘My body… won’t move at all…’

Binding magic was densely woven across Aethlyn’s entire body. Not to mention her left hand, she couldn’t twitch a single finger or toe. The binding magic had deliberately spared only her two eyelids and the muscles around her eyeballs, and the reason for that was easy to guess.

The bastard wanted to watch those dying eyes of Aethlyn fill completely with terror. It was truly a morbid sense of amusement.

‘Insane bastard…’

Helplessness and rage welled up inside her, but there was nothing she could do. When Aethlyn blinked, an eerie light flickered within the knight’s red irises. Presently, a disturbingly wet sound echoed, as if he were smacking his lips. He spoke in an eager tone.

“…Hmm. Truly, it’s a bit of a waste to just kill you like this. The Empire needs all the abstract mages it can get, after all.”

Seeming genuinely torn, the man tilted his head diagonally to the left.

“As a compromise, severing the nerves below the neck might be sufficient. That much shouldn’t interfere with your role as a vessel…”

And right at that moment, from behind the man uttering such bizarre nonsense, a massive shadow began to loom.

Aethlyn’s eyes naturally drifted toward it, and she quickly realized what that shape was. It was none other than Sergeant Vilev.

‘Sergeant Vilev!’

He was approaching the Red Knight, standing on two feet in a half-human, half-beast form.

Just confirming that Sergeant Vilev was alive made her want to cry with joy. It didn’t matter in the least that the half-human, half-beast form of a man she was seeing for the first time looked terrifying.

‘He’s alive…’

However, that sense of relief instantly turned into utter devastation. The sight of him approaching was simply too wretched, far too wretched to bear.

Even though his entire body was covered in black fur, she could tell he had suffered severe injuries.

The sergeant’s upper body was ragged, as if he had been mauled by a wyvern. A huge, deep wound ran diagonally from his upper arm all the way to his abdomen. It was so severe that raw red flesh was completely exposed.

It felt nothing short of a miracle that he was even standing on two feet in such a horrific condition, yet the werewolf’s posture remained unwavering.

Instead of lunging at the knight in a single bound, he approached cautiously with a low posture. Slowly, he closed the distance without making a sound. And thanks to that, the Red Knight seemed completely unaware that Gennadi was still alive.

But it was only for a moment. The Red Knight caught the trajectory of Aethlyn’s rolling gaze.

“What is this?”

Muttering in Imperial language, the knight tried to turn his head backward to follow the direction of Aethlyn’s gaze.

‘No!’

The very moment the knight turned his head, his concentration faltered for just a fraction of a second, creating a crack in the binding magic. It was an extremely narrow opening. Aethlyn decided to pierce through that very space.

Forming her left hand into the shape of a pistol, she pointed her index finger as if aiming at the helmet’s viewing slit. Barely managing to move her blistered and bruised lips, she chanted the spell:

[Aturaura.]

The moment she pulled the trigger, a burst of flame erupted from her index finger.

She was sick of red. Red was even more wearisome than the dreary ash-gray of the trenches.

The flames erupting from the flamethrower, the blood of unknown origin—friend or foe alike—and the Red Knight’s armor. She felt like she was going crazy of it all.

Even now, Aethlyn’s entire field of vision was blindingly, suffocatingly red. And dazzlingly bright.

As soon as Aethlyn chanted the spell, the sheet of flame bursting from the tip of her index finger engulfed the Red Knight. To be precise, it swallowed up the Red Knight’s face.

“Aaaaaagh!!!”

A single, agonizing shriek echoed through the open air. The grip that had been mercilessly tightening around Aethlyn’s throat until just moments ago completely lost its strength, and Aethlyn dropped limply to the ground like a fallen leaf.

Before long, the Red Knight dropped heavily to his knees. Having thrown off his helmet, he buried his face in the dirt, struggling frantically to put out the fire. Yet despite his efforts, far from subsiding, the flames raged even more fiercely.

Sprawled out on the ground, Aethlyn watched the knight’s agonizing screams and smiled inwardly.

‘Still, I definitely succeeded in leaving a mark.’

Furthermore, this wasn’t just a simple scratch. It was a fatal blow. If played right, this single strike could end the bastard’s career as a mage. A sweet sense of satisfaction welled up from the depths of Aethlyn’s lungs.

‘Right. That’s enough.’

Along with that brief moment of solace, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over Aethlyn.

‘This really is the end.’

Her vision went dark once more, and her breathing grew shallow. She could feel the flame of her life flickering out in real-time. Unlike before, when she had thrashed about because she couldn’t accept death, Aethlyn felt composed now. If she could deal the Empire a blow like this and die, she figured it was a fitting end worthy of a Wintercrown.

‘It’s not a shameful death, so it’s fine.’

Through her dimming vision, she saw Sergeant Vilev rushing toward her. He seemed to be shouting something at Aethlyn. But not a single sound reached Aethlyn properly anymore. Presently, the entire world sank into darkness in the blink of an eye.

Twelve years ago.

The Wintercrown Ducal Estate.

Belmoral, the fief of the House Wintercrown, was a region renowned for its pristine waters and fresh air.

Located at the foothills of Mount Etna, the highest mountain in Esta, the area was famous as ‘the most scenic spot in Esta.’ When spring arrived, the melting eternal snow made the lakes and streams sparkle with a jade hue, and all around shimmered with blooming wildflowers and lush greenery.

With a railway station established there a few years prior, it had transformed into a bustling tourist destination during the summer, drawing vacationers not only from Esta but also from the Kingdom of Willem and the Kunetz Federation. Though the other seasons remained mostly tranquil.

Aethlyn Wintercrown stared at Belmoral’s magnificent scenery with a desolate gaze. Her mood kept sinking.

Naturally, it was bound to be such a day. Today marked the ninth anniversary of her mother, Thalia Wintercrown’s, passing. Yet there was something strangely peculiar about Aethlyn’s melancholy.

“……”

It truly was bizarre. Even if Thalia was a mother whom she saw far less often than she didn’t, she was still her mother. The mother who had carried and birthed Aethlyn, and held and raised her.

‘And yet, to remember absolutely nothing of her.’

How could that be? It was shocking.