Everything had gone wrong so quickly.

It all began when that pale red orb took its place in the center of the artificial night sky above, signaling the true start of Amelia’s ritual. Although Amelia’s strength hadn’t actually increased as a result of the false blood moon, Medrauta was hard-pressed to fight back now that her opponent had completely changed their strategy.

Whereas she had previously been in a much more conversational mood as she traded blows with Medrauta, Amelia was now focused solely on obtaining the final catalyst she needed for the completion of her ritual. Viviane’s mastery over the Lake’s power had grown significantly since she obtained it, but it was only enough to suppress Amelia’s regeneration instead of completely negating it.

Regardless of how many successful cuts or thrusts Medrauta landed on the witch, her regeneration would soon activate once more and close those wounds after the lingering power of the Lake waned. The only way to end Amelia once and for all would be a swift decapitation, an attack that she would never permit Medrauta to perform.

Medrauta’s blade moved rapidly, becoming nothing more than a pinwheel of silver light as she parried Amelia’s attacks incessantly, choosing to counterattack only when she knew it was absolutely safe to do so. After all, there was no need for the witch to fight defensively so long as she kept Medrauta’s blade away from her neck. Any other attacks would simply be a waste of time, and both of them knew it.

More importantly, there was no room for mistakes on Medrauta’s end. While she was certainly capable of dueling Amelia to a standstill in her current condition, the witch was no longer interested in exchanging blows. Rather, Amelia continued to push toward Viviane’s direction, inching closer and closer with each step that Medrauta was forced to take backwards.

The silver-haired knight had no idea how much blood Amelia actually required for her ritual. Underneath Revelo Castle, a single drop had been enough to raise the Spire, but Medrauta doubted that such a paltry amount would be enough to revive the Witch Queen.

Medrauta’s narrowed as Amelia thrust her blade rapidly, the black sword exploding forth like a volley of arrows fired from point-blank range. Staying calm, the silver-haired knight dexterously weaved her way through each thrust before parrying the last with her sword and shoving Amelia backward with some effort.

That should buy me a couple of seconds... The knight’s breath remained even and measured, but she could feel the beginnings of combat fatigue settle into her muscles. With her memories returned to her, Medrauta recalled the countless bedtime stories her mother had told her. They were by no means extremely detailed nor were they meant to be overly informative, but they were enough for her purposes at the moment.

From those stories, Medrauta recalled that rituals as grand and important as the one Amelia was attempting to perform had to be completed within a certain timeframe. In fact, that was likely the reason why Amelia had waited until moments ago to truly begin her ritual.

Amelia continued pressing her attack relentlessly as if to confirm Medrauta’s theory, her sword swinging wildly as its black blade now blazed with crimson mana wreathed around its edges.

Her latest strike rang loudly as it was stopped short by Medrauta’s blade. The two pit their incredible strength against one another for a moment, the steel of their weapons shivering violently as each blade struggled to withstand the power of their wielder. For a moment, Medrauta thought she would win this test of strength, but Amelia’s lips suddenly split into a wicked smirk.

Medrauta let out a cry of surprise as Amelia’s body suddenly dispersed into a swarm of black butterflies, causing the silver-haired knight to lurch forward uncontrollably as all the force opposing her suddenly disappeared at once. She whirled around quickly, only to see the swarm of butterflies already beginning to coalesce at Viviane’s position.

“Medrauta!” Viviane shouted as she struggled to tear herself free from the butterflies. A portion of the swarm had already finished reforming Amelia’s arm, allowing the witch to clutch onto the noblewoman tightly.

“I’m coming, Vivi!” Medrauta rushed toward her lady, her heart pounding rapidly. She thought she had rid herself of fear ever since she leapt in front of the black spear Amelia had thrown during the final day of the academy festival. There, she had prepared herself for certain death, and it was only the miracle of Viviane’s Crest metamorphosis that saved her life.

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Now, it was a different kind of fear that forcibly thrust itself into her heart, lodging itself there as if a certain black lance had pierced it after all. It was true that Medrauta no longer felt fear so long as she was the only one in danger, but now that it was Viviane’s life on the line, she experienced a dread so powerful that even drawing breath felt difficult.

Time slowed as Medrauta was forced to watch Amelia’s body fully form behind Viviane. Though she was already leaping toward her beloved lady, she knew she was too late. Already, the witch’s obsidian sword was poised to pierce through Viviane’s heart. The only reason she continued to wait was merely to watch her foe squirm.

To allow the silver-haired knight’s heart to thunder desperately despite knowing full well that all hope had been lost.

Medrauta reached an arm out toward her lady, their fingertips nearly brushing against each other. The air around her felt as viscous as honey, and her breathing became shallow as if a noose was slowly tightening around her neck. Just a little more, and she would be able to pull Viviane free from Amelia’s clutches.

“Too bad.”

Those two words were enough to shatter Medrauta’s world entirely.

At last, she was holding Viviane’s hand in hers. But it did not exude the warmth she was so used to.

It was cold.

Viviane’s body fell forward, slumping loosely against Medrauta’s chest. Though her own heart continued to beat rapidly, she could feel nothing from Viviane’s. The silver armor surrounding Medrauta flickered and faded away. The power of the Lake departed from her body.

For the first time since she’d met Viviane, Medrauta truly felt alone.

Amelia smirked, a vortex of crimson whirling around her blade. With a single stroke, she had extracted all the blood she needed from Viviane’s body, leaving barely anything behind. Even after taking what did not belong to her, Amelia had deprived Viviane of her final words.

“How does it feel, Medrauta?” Amelia asked. “How does it feel to have the one you love most taken from you?”

Medrauta didn’t answer. She fell to her knees, cradling Viviane’s lifeless body as delicately as she could. When she first began ascending the Spire, she knew it wouldn’t be a smooth ride, but she figured it would all work out in the end like it always had. So long as she and Viviane were together, they would emerge victorious. That was how it was supposed to be.

The silver-haired knight continued to stare at Viviane’s body without blinking, as if hoping the noblewoman’s eyes would suddenly open and the gaping wound in her chest would magically close up. But nothing happened. The only thing that filled the air was the sound of silence and the echoes of Amelia’s footsteps ringing through the air.

“Take your time to savor the suffering, Medrauta. It’s the last thing you’ll ever feel.” Amelia said as she ascended the dais to her throne, allowing the torrent of spinning blood around her sword to fall upon the still-bound princess. “After all, I’ve been there too. My emotions left me the moment your mother took the life of mine.”

Medrauta twitched in response to Amelia’s words. If Amelia had done this all for the sake of taking vengeance on Morgana’s actions, then there was still one last thing for Medrauta to do before she joined Viviane on the other side.

Gently, she laid her lady’s still body onto the floor, leaning down to offer Viviane one final kiss before standing up. After finishing off Amelia, Medrauta would plunge her sword through her own heart. Though she had prepared to steel herself for this conclusion, a hoarse voice called out to her as she rose. Much to her surprise, it was Merlynne.

“...Do not abandon all hope yet, Medrauta...” Merlynne rasped. “I... shall watch over her in your absence...”

Is she saying there’s still a chance for Vivi to live...? Medrauta paused, not knowing how to respond. It took a moment for her to realize that things simply couldn’t get worse. Allowing Merlynne to try whatever it was she had planned couldn’t possibly make things more terrible than they already were. In the worst case scenario, she’d just have to kill Merlynne too.

“I’ll entrust her to you then, Lady Merlynne.” Medrauta whispered. “Wait for me, Vivi. I’ll be back soon.”

Medrauta turned, facing Amelia with unwavering eyes and a resolute stance. With sword in hand, the knight advanced toward the witch undaunted. Though she no longer had the power of a Crest to supplement her abilities, she felt no fear. The fate of the empire was no longer important to her, nor was stopping the ritual.

The only thing she needed to do was slay Amelia once and for all.

Without the power of the Lake, it seemed as though her goal was a lost cause, but she knew otherwise. As powerful as she seemed to be, Amelia was just another witch, and the Oath-wielding Paladins of yore had slain witches aplenty.

More importantly, she had slain a witch already.

“...There’s just one thing you need to know, Amelia.”

“Oh?” Amelia raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. In truth, she was rather surprised at Medrauta’s advance. She thought the knight’s spirit had been irreparably shattered with Viviane’s death.

“My mother wasn’t the one who killed Morgause. I am.”