1

Izumi saw restless dreams. Dreams without form or color. They were a jumble of vague, harsh sensations of biting cold, defiling wetness, and violent, sharp angles, all blended within impermeable darkness. As if she stood in a room full of strangers without lights on, her helpless body was pushed around, pulled, torn, squeezed, twisted, wrenched, held down, and dragged back up, without a moment’s rest, and she felt sick.

Malice.

It was painful. There was no part of Izumi, not one cell, that wasn’t hurting.

She was being cooked in a soup of unadulterated hate.

Hate without driving cause or direction. Hate for the sake of hate. Her whole being was embraced by a wrathful will wordlessly telling her to cease living.

It went without saying; no life form could hope to endure such animosity intact. At any moment, her spirit was surely going to break, right down to its core. Like a glass vase, she was going to shatter into a trillion flat, cutting pieces, and drift apart. She was already cracked through, seeing a thousand reflections of herself, as if through the eyes of a fly.

End.

And then she would die.

Die a true death and be lost in the boundless abyss, never to return to the mortal coil.

Die.

Die and disappear. Die.

Die. Die. Die.

Die. Die. Die. Die.

Of her life on Ortho, nothing would be left.

Of her past on Earth, nothing would be left.

In the hearts and thoughts of all who had known her—nothing would be left.

Not even a faint memory.

Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die.Die. Die. Die. Die_

Help.

Right as Izumi thought she could withstand this relentless torment no more, a gentle, dry warmth began to circulate in her, and the nauseating motion gradually halted. She never could have imagined it might feel so good just to be still. The outer darkness began to draw back, driven away by a warm glow coming from within Izumi herself. The glow brought with it overwhelming relief and a sense of safety.

For a moment, she thought she saw herself standing on the sunlit street of a great, ancient city, with tall, wise, benevolent beings surrounding her, greeting her, calling her back to life. It was like she was seeing the glow of a brand new dawn, after a long night’s journey, and to that dawn she abruptly opened her eyes.

Izumi found herself in the bed prepared for her at Carmelia’s keep, in a small room with a window to the west. Feeling abnormally revitalized, she sat up, rubbing her stomach, and gazed out of the window. The rain had stopped. The new day was somewhat cloudy, but still bright. The scent of wet stone and grass filled her nostrils, drifting from somewhere below.

Remaining dazed, Izumi tried to gather her mixed thoughts. What had happened after her fight with Waramoti, she only remembered in detached, tattered fragments. Like it was only a movie she had seen years ago.

“It...doesn’t hurt anymore?” she muttered aloud.

“—I should hope so,” a voice nearby spoke.

Izumi turned her head right and saw the black-clad Court Wizard sitting on a chair by the bed. “It was not the cheapest mead you were resuscitated with.”

“Eh? You...saved me?” Izumi asked, a bit surprised.

“Relena talaanth, the Red Serum,” Carmelia explained, “one of the most potent restorative medicines ever conceived by the Dominion alchemists. Eight vials I had with me as I departed from the havens of Tar-Elyssea. Six I’ve used over my years in exile. Now, only one remains. Thank the Divines, I did not need them all.”

“Um, I’ll pay you back, okay?” Izumi proposed. “In installments, preferably, seeing as I’m presently broke.”

“The medicine's value cannot be measured in silver or gold,” the sorceress told her. “The shop which gave it to me now gathers dust, abandoned, along the ruined central street of Osgonnoth. The pharmacist himself deceased, the formula lost with him, eight centuries ago.”

“W-well, that’s a real shame! You don’t suppose there’s a way to, I don’t know, reverse-engineer it, or something? Whatever it is that the smart chemists do. It’s no problem at all for someone of your talents, right?”

“I have a fairly good grasp of the elixir's composition, yes,” Carmelia replied. “After all, I wasted three vials to learn it. But I can tell you that the wheat, rye, and barley you humans fill your fields with are not among the required ingredients.”

“As much as I hate fetch quests and skip them whenever possible, I might make an exception this once. Since it really seems like a handy juice to have.”

“Don’t bother,” the cirelo shook her head. “Only daemons roam the plains where those flowers grow now. That aside, tell me, how do you feel?”

“Hmm...”

In truth, Izumi felt a bit odd. Oddly light.

She had grown accustomed to some place aching or being numb, stiff, painful, or otherwise out of order. Now, for the first time in years, she felt very nearly “normal”, which was rather unnerving on its own. No, the sensation couldn’t really be called strictly “normal” either. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but an unusual one.

Izumi felt her face. There were no mirrors in her room, but her face felt mostly familiar. Then, she looked down and immediately saw that something was indeed deeply amiss.

“Gah!”

“Hm? What is wrong?” Carmelia asked.

“What is wrong!?” Izumi shrieked. “Why, my—my chest! What’s happened to my chest! My cup size has shrunk by at least one big letter! Maybe even two! What’s going on? This is a dream, isn’t it? Please tell me this is only a dream, a nightmare!”

“That would mostly be due to loss of weight,” the sorceress reasoned. “However, it does seem like your physique has slightly...de-aged. This is quite the surprise. No human has ever ingested the Red Serum before, so I was curious to see what effects it would have. The human body is more malleable than ours by nature, so the strength of the effect exceeded my expectations. Beyond simply rejuvenated, it could be said you were ‘reverted’. I’ll be sure to make note of this.”

“What am I, a guinea pig for your experiments?” the woman protested. “How terrible! At this rate, Yule’s going to surpass me before I know it! Thank goodness they lost the recipe! Don’t ever make me chug something so awful again! What if I turned as flat as a surfboard! My only clearly feminine asset would be lost and nobody would be able to recognize me as a woman anymore! It may sound vain, but I happen to be pretty happy with my shapes. It was my only comfort in the lonely nights of the past...”

“Don’t you think your life is more valuable than those superfluous lumps of fat? Now, if you are quite done with this meaningless tirade, I have other questions—”

“It’s not meaningless to me!” Izumi continued to rave. “Now I see what this is about! It was Lia’s terrible scheme all along! You didn’t want to be left inferior to a mere human, so you plotted to level the playground with your vile concoctions! How evil! It’s not my fault you’re a pettanko! I placed my life in your hands and this is the reward for my good faith?”

“Interrupt me again, and you will not recognize your reflection by tomorrow,” Carmelia told the woman. “Be quiet and listen to me.”

Although she still had complaints, Izumi obediently shut up.

“Your blood sample showed various anomalous components,” the sorceress said. “Some of these materials are directly interfering with the function of your cells. Exactly what manner of substances have you been ingesting? Are these local effects or something you acquired from your original world?”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Um, that’s probably...”

Izumi went on to summarize the story about the Felorn expedition two weeks prior, up to the discovery of the “spring of everlasting youth”.

Not youth or immortality, but simply stilted growth—the water from the forbidden pool preserved her cells at the cost of her body’s regenerative properties. If her flesh couldn’t ever degrade, it couldn’t be renewed either by natural means, leaving magic and drugs as her only aid in the event of a serious injury.

The sorceress listened to her tale in silence until the conclusion.

“I see, Cithardia sap...” Carmelia mumbled, touching her chin. “Long ago, they used to make an extract of its berries, which was said to help one’s love life blossom...Ahem, I had no idea the species grew in Noertia, or that it had such an effect on human physiology. Wind has to have delivered the seeds across the sea. This explains a great many things. Your stalled metabolism could be the reason for the silen devehra’s abnormally slow progress. Regardless of the state of your soul, your cells are quite unable to die. As relena taalanth rejuvenates both the body and the spirit, you should be fine now.”

“Well, I’m half grateful for that,” Izumi reluctantly said. “Just to be sure, the miracle drug’s not working anymore, is it? I won’t go back to being a toddler, will I?”

“I need to conduct more tests,” the sorceress said without giving a direct answer. “Do not leave the palace today.”

Continuing to mumble some ominous things under her breath, the Court Wizard stood up and wandered out of the room.

“No matter how old or prestigious, she’s still a geek inside, huh?” Izumi noted, slightly worried about her future well-being.

Left alone, Izumi continued to stare out of the window. This unusual pause gave her time to think about a lot of things. Or more like, her near-death experience forced her to face the issues she had been avoiding for too long. Many life-threatening events took place along the way, but this was definitely the closest Izumi had been to dying since the day she was summoned.

What would happen, if she did?

Not once had she actually spared her own death a thought.

Because that thought was, even to Izumi, rather unnerving.

Would she be brought back to life again like in a video game, reverted to the previous checkpoint, and be forced to correct her mistakes? Would she go to some local version of Heaven, or Valhalla, or Underworld, or some other type of spiritual realm, where new experiences awaited her?

Or would it simply be the end, an infinite abyss where perfect nothingness awaited? An oblivion where she would forget she ever existed, like the one she was very nearly dragged into?

Or…

Izumi thought about the worst case scenario. The one fate worse even than true death.

What if, after dying—she would simply open her eyes back in her own bed again, on Earth, forced to face another ordinary working day with no magic, no miracles, no elves, no ancient swords, no warriors, no empires, and no princesses.

“...I suppose I should take better care of this life from now on,” Izumi mumbled with a shudder, before laying back down on the bed.

2

A new morning. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky between the spires of Selenoreion, and the high-pitched cries of swallows could be heard overhead, as they swooped over the terrace in their ceaseless hunt for sustenance.

Once again, breakfast service had been prepared for two in the north-western garden. Like yesterday, the Emperor of Tratovia had requested Yuliana to keep him company. Wondering if it was going to become a daily event, the princess took her seat at the end of the lengthy table opposite of his majesty, while one of the maids poured her a cup of red tea.

Today, Yuliana felt like a different person from yesterday. Izumi was safe; one major source of concern had been removed. The effect on her confidence was tremendous.

That was one less way for the Emperor to extort the princess. Yesterday, his majesty had taken the lead in the conversation, catching Yuliana off-guard with his unexpected approach, but she had recovered and gathered her courage since then.

From here, she would begin her counterattack.

There would be no war. No concessions. No plots, schemes, blackmail, or deception. Henceforth, only reason would speak, for the common good. She wouldn’t give in, even if her opponent was the most influential man on the continent.

One way or the other, she would make him see wisdom.

“Did you sleep well, your highness?” the Emperor asked in a light tone, sipping his tea. He appeared to be in a good mood too, his shoulders relaxed, resting his back on the support of the sturdy antique chair.

“I did, thank you,” Yuliana answered.

“Good. While you are something of a prisoner of mine, in a sense, it is not my desire to make you feel as one. If there is anything you wish for, to make your time pass easier, I will arrange for it. So long as it is within my power, of course. I only ask that you do not overestimate this power, for my judges are many and ever present.”

“I understand, and I try not to ask for much,” she answered. “Only that you do not ask any more of me in return.”

“An excellent answer,” he nodded. “It appears you are as the stories I have heard of you describe: ‘blessed with beauty, matched only by her wit.’”

“I did not expect such flattery from you, your majesty,” Yuliana replied, without a smile.

“Oh, I would flatter you a thousand times more,” the Emperor replied, “but my regrettable duty is to demand better of us both. I would like to hear your answer to the request I presented to you in this very place yesterday, Princess Yuliana Da Via Brannan. Will you negotiate with your father at my behest? Will you acquire for me access to the southern harbors of your land and the King’s consent to use them? Will you help spare us all of the bloodiest war this land has seen in ages?”

Yuliana straightened her posture and forced herself to look back into the Emperor’s light gray eyes, before giving her decided response,

“I cannot.”

To that, the Emperor said nothing. Like a still image he remained, not even blinking.

Yuliana took this silence as a chance to explain her reasoning,

“What you ask of me is simply not possible. As I have told you, my father does not value my opinions, he never has, and will not listen to anything I say. You do not know him as I do. A princess I may be in title, but I hold as much political power in the court of my fatherland as any plain handmaid would. I cannot promise to you that which is beyond me, no matter what is at stake. Your involvement in the matter will only make him refuse me with doubled ferocity. Personally, I must also express my discontent with your plan. We cannot hope to conquer the lost continent with military force. Our enemy is far beyond our caliber, I have been shown as much. Elves could not do it, not cruleans, ptoleans, derians, not even dragons, and they all outrank us. And we do not have such time either. No, I believe there are better ways. Before numbers, we ought to favor speed on our quest. We could assemble a small, specialized force, which will be able to travel across the continent, along the shortest route possible, directly to the Trophaeum, to seize it on the promised day. That is our only option, I believe, a focused effort. I am prepared to join this quest myself, be it under the Imperial banner or anyone else’s. There is no need for war, and no—”

—“Tomorrow...”

The princess fell silent mid-sentence, seeing the Emperor rub the bridge of his nose with a tired frown, no longer even listening.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, “at daybreak, Colonel Miragrave Estheria Marafel will be executed.”

“What——?”

All the heated activity in Yuliana’s head came to a sudden stop.

For a moment, all she heard was her own pulse, and the humming of blood in her ears.

“For the crime of conspiring against the Imperial Throne,” the Emperor continued, “the Colonel is to burn at the stake until death. So it has been decided.”

Color returning to her face, Yuliana bounced up, slamming her palms at the table,

“Why are you threatening me!?” she shouted at him. “What do you hope to gain by doing this? I’ve told you, what’s impossible is impossible!”

“Do not misunderstand me, your highness,” the man calmly explained. “I am not the judge nor the jury in this land, far from the executioner. The Board of Generals wants the Colonel gone, and she has given them an excuse too good to pass up on, that is all. I cannot arbitrarily overrule the verdict, lest I make her enemies my enemies also. Not unless I have something to appease them with. Something of such tremendous importance that it will make one soldier's pardon seem a mere trifle on the side. Such as an armistice and the right of passage to Langoria.”

“That’s not—”

“I do not ask for the impossible. I ask that you try.”

“With all due respect—”

“Life is an endless series of trades, your highness,” he sternly continued over Yuliana’s frail opposition. “Whether you are a peasant or a king, all that changes is the value of transactions. At our level, cities and kingdoms are our currency. Human lives are saved and lost upon each choice we make. It is inescapable. Where will you win, where will you lose, who will you save, who will you kill...It is a merciless earth we tread, for at all turns it calls for blood to nourish it. The option to share happiness with everyone equally simply does not exist for us. For despite our noble heritage, we remain only human. The more you struggle against this grim truth with heavy-handed idealism, the more painful the cost you must pay at the end of the day. Do I want to see my servant and faithful subject die in a fire? I do not. Do I want to go to war with Langoria and her people? I do not. But I am not a God, your highness. Nor is my will the will of my people in the literal sense. I want to save the world, but my generals cannot be content with merely a beautiful dream. If there is to be life on Ortho after the Night of the Covenant, then I must be the one to tell my citizens how that life will continue thereon. Even if you and I go to selflessly sacrifice ourselves in the land of daemons for the common good of our peoples, there is no value in our efforts to those who know nothing of such things.”

“I...”

“For the Empire of Tratovia, the future is in Langoria. It is in Luctretz, in Cotlann, in Melgier, in Alderia. In continued expansion and the prosperity gained through it. Unless a man has coin to give, he will not be given bread in exchange. Unless I give my people progress and wealth, they will not give me even a plate to eat my bread on, let alone a chance to save their lives. No, they will take everything I am, all that I have, wipe away what I represent from the pages of history. There, your highness, are our judges, jury, and our all too willing executioners too. Right outside those tall yet painfully ephemeral walls.”

The Emperor waved his hand in the city’s general direction, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood,

“I am disappointed by your answer, your highness. You insist your father to be adamant as bedrock, yet expect my heart to yield like a strand of weed instead. I’d heard you were more than your looks, yet I see now that you continue to remain a dreamer, a child, even as the curtain is pulled on our world.”

Without saying any more, the man strode out of the garden, his servants hurrying after him. Left seated by herself, stupefied, Yuliana looked over the cityscape in the west, unable to see the buildings through her tears.