“Your mother couldn’t kill me. What makes you think you can?” Medrauta said as she ascended the dais where Amelia stood.
Amelia’s hand tightened around the hilt of her sword with such strength that it shattered completely, pitch-black shards falling onto the ground beneath and emitting a sound reminiscent of broken glass clattering against stone.
The fragments of Amelia’s destroyed sword returned to their natural form as ambient mana within seconds, only for the witch to simply create another one in her hands. In anger, she shoved the prone princess off the dais with her foot, causing Gwenhwyfar’s unconscious body to fall several feet, bouncing once as she hit the ground and rolling a short distance before finally stopping.
Mere moments ago, the ritual had caused Viviane’s blood to be absorbed entirely into Gwenhwyfar’s body as she was drenched in it. Amelia had undone her bindings at last once every drop of blood was properly assimilated into the princess’ body, allowing Gwenhwyfar to jerk upwards uncontrollably and vomit a torrent of what looked like black sludge toward the crimson orb that remained hovering in the air.
Medrauta had watched in horror as the orb consumed every drop of viscous liquid that was hurled at it. While the sphere had once resembled something like a moon, it now bore the appearance of a monstrous egg. A translucent crimson sphere, thick black threads that looked like veins wrapped around its surface, protecting the pulsing fetus within.
It was undoubtedly the “Witch Queen’s dead womb” that the prophecy spoke of, yet Medrauta remained undaunted by the terrible sight hanging above her head. Even if the prophecy was destined to be fulfilled, she would shatter it with her own hands. That she swore.
It was the only thing she could do to redeem herself from her failure as a knight and avenge Viviane.
Medrauta leapt toward Amelia, ascending the dais in a single bound as she swung her sword in a vicious downward stroke that sought to cleave Amelia in half. Against any other opponent, they would have been hard-pressed to parry or even block it, but Amelia simply swatted Medrauta aside as if she were no more than a mere insect.
Without the power of Viviane’s Crest enhancing her physical abilities or activating her Oath, Medrauta was nothing compared to Amelia’s thoroughly heightened strength thanks to the corrupted mana coursing through her body. She stepped down from the dais, only giving Medrauta part of her attention as she kept an eye on the gestating embryo above.
“I thought this would be a lot more exciting, you know?” Amelia said, walking toward Medrauta. The silver-haired knight had been thrown through the air as a result of Amelia’s parry, causing her to fall flat on the ground. “The last Paladin versus the last witch. It’s a shame you’re about to die so easily without even a chance of using your Oath.”
Medrauta pushed herself up just in time to parry Amelia’s downward strike, the force causing her to slide back significantly. Her sword vibrated violently in her hands, and a large chip now formed in the blade. Without the power of the Lake being channeled through the steel, it had little hope of holding up against the powerful strikes issued by the witch.
Just a little longer... Medrauta thought. Based on Amelia’s latest words, her decision to hold off on using her Oath for as long as possible was paying off. Though Amelia seemed to be aware of the general conditions surrounding her mother’s death, the specifics had clearly been lost to her. So long as she continued to keep the true nature of her Oath hidden, Medrauta figured she would be able to turn the tables when it mattered.
Above them, the crimson embryo throbbed, its pulsating motions beginning to grow more and more rapid with each passing second. Its thick black veins pumped foul fluids through the interior structure, filling the once translucent sphere with an obsidian flood. The fetus within became engorged, causing the embryo to bulge unnaturally.
The appointed time of the Witch Queen’s rebirth was almost nigh. The only thing left to do was to call her accursed spirit to this world.
But Amelia had no intentions of doing so. Instead, the one who she wished to revive was none other than Morgause, her mother. By bringing Morgause back to life in the Witch Queen’s body, Amelia would not only grant her mother a second chance to live, but also the greatest gift a witch could ever receive. Due to the special composition of the Witch Queen’s body, it could wield an almost limitless amount of black mana, granting her power that surpassed all living creatures on the planet.
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In fact, it was even said that the Witch Queen of yore possessed power so great that she could have posed a threat to Aluvsha, the Creator God who resided in the heavens above. And now, that strength was only moments away from being obtained by Morgause, the witch that Medrauta had once slain.
“It’s a shame, really.” Amelia said as she thrust her sword at Medrauta, causing the knight to be flung backwards once more as she blocked the attack with the flat of her blade. The silver steel cracked, but the weapon remained intact for now. “I thought I could finish you off before calling my dear mother here, but I suppose I’ll let her do the honors. Wait right there, Medrauta. We’ll be back for you.”
With a parting smirk, Amelia floated into the air, levitating in front of the accursed womb that had now been dyed a shade of black so dark, it stood out as a circular void even amongst the artificial night sky that acted as its sinister backdrop. With a wave of her hand, she tore forth a vast rift that revealed a crimson-tinted realm.
Medrauta peered up at Amelia as she reached into the rift, seemingly sifting for something deep within. She shook her head, clearing her mind one last time as she crouched low, preparing to launch herself up to the witch’s location. Even with a running start, it would be difficult for her to reach such an elevation, but she couldn’t risk activating her Oath just yet.
Time seemed to slow down as she thrust her feet against the floor with all her might, sprinting powerfully before launching herself upward. She had to reach her destination just in time before she began falling back down once more. At first, Medrauta worried that she had mistimed her leap, but Amelia’s triumphant expression quickly assuaged those concerns.
With a single motion, Amelia extracted a squirming mass of darkness from the rift, causing it to close rapidly. In her hand was a somewhat humanoid-shaped object that twitched erratically, its motions swift and unpredictable. Instinctively, Medrauta understood this was the soul of a witch given tangible form through witchcraft. Only in this vulnerable state could it be inserted into the empty vessel waiting to be birthed within the obsidian embryo.
“You’re too late, Medrauta.” Amelia said as she prepared to shove the stygian soul into the embryo. “It’s over.”
“You’re right about that.” Medrauta said, brandishing her sword as she drew level with Amelia in the air. “It’s over.”
“Wh—”
“Clarent!” Medrauta exclaimed, causing a blue aura to flare up around her body and blade. The power of her Oath erupted forth with a brilliant light, banishing the darkness wreathed around her.
Originally, Clarent was an Oath destined solely to protect. It was the invulnerable shield that Morgana had sought ever since she was a child, an impenetrable barrier that shielded all she loved from the terrors of the Witch Queen. But in her desire to protect, she had forgotten one very important thing. Something that Medrauta had managed to realize only after failing to protect Viviane.
She had kept one hand empty all this time because there were still things she wished to hold on to, but with Viviane gone from the world of the living, there was no need for her to do so. There was no need to protect anyone. Not anymore. With her open hand, she wielded the immutable shield of Clarent not to protect, but to bash.
Before Amelia could react, Medrauta unleashed a sky-shattering strike not with her blade, but with her fist. It smashed into the soul that Amelia was holding with such force that the stygian mass exploded into tiny motes of umbral matter before vanishing forever.
In just a single second, Amelia’s plan was irreparably ruined by the silver-haired knight. Just as the witch wrenched Medrauta’s greatest love from her hands, so too did Medrauta take Amelia’s greatest—and only—love. Though Amelia’s love was of a different kind, it still hurt all the same. Perhaps even more now that she had been forced to experience the death of her mother not once, but twice.
“...Medrauta.” Amelia glared at the knight who had landed neatly below her. Though her expression was neutral, the unbridled rage and grief in her eyes was practically volcanic in nature. If she had tears to shed, they would not fall until the object of her ire was annihilated from existence.
Perhaps witches can have emotions after all. Medrauta thought as she returned Amelia’s stare. “I never thought I’d experience the displeasure of killing someone twice, but I suppose I’ll return your question to you. How does it feel, Amelia? How does it feel to have the one you love most taken from you?”
Amelia gave the silver-haired knight a cold and cruel smile devoid of any humor. She raised her sword to her own heart. “I’m going to enjoy killing you slowly.”
Medrauta frowned, not understanding what Amelia was trying to accomplish before it was too late. The witch plunged her sword through her own body, ejecting her soul and shooting it straight into the throbbing embryo that hovered behind her.
“Oh... Shit.”