The cold wind bites relentlessly against Lucy's skin as her lungs burn. Taking deep gulps of air, she was able to run without losing too much breath. Scarred fingers gripped firmly against the hardwood of her ax as she ran through the forest. Towards the abandoned building.

The trees, once bright and vibrant, were dying now. Some trees had branches empty of life, others had nothing but frozen twigs. Mostly, however, there were still leaves in their bodies. An unfortunate disadvantage for Lucy.

Had the forest laid empty of its colors, the amount of ambush points would have reduced significantly. This was not the case. Despite this, however, Lucy pushed on. Undeterred by the surroundings around her.

It was not long before Lucy arrived at the abandoned building. It was not longer still when Lucy immediately noticed the danger it presented. A lone man stood waiting in front of the door.

Garbed in an eerily familiar black coat, underneath was a dull grey shirt tailored specifically for movement. His mouth was no different as it was covered with a bandanna dipped in darkness with a hood to cover any facial features. Only his eyes remained unhindered as it pulsed in soft sapphire light. It was an Obsidian Herald.

A rising revulsion grows from within Lucy. She tried to bury the coming torrent of memories to no avail as her glare remained. Her body may be young, but the soul remembers.

"Where is she?" Lucy growled, not waiting for the man to greet her.

The man did not respond right after, eyes brimming with caution and scrutiny. After a second later, the man whispers a reply. "Inside. Untouched and unsullied." The man said, firm but relaxed.

Lucy's shoulder loosens for an instant before tightening once more in danger. "What do you want steel knight?" She replied stiffly as she eyed the shirt warily. During the Sunset War, fresh troops were fought over by commanders with the same ferocity as the nobility fought over free blades, champions that were bound to no one.

The need for fresh and trained men was so direly needed back then that it saw the rampant employment of sellswords from both sides of the empires. Infamous among them was the Obsidian Herald, who had such an exorbitant price that matched their skills.

Lucy had crossed blades with their ilk more times than she bothered to count that she had grown accustomed to the order itself. White for iron squires, grey for steel knights, and black for obsidian heralds.

Lucy had a moment of satisfaction as she watched the man's eyes widen in surprise for a moment before falling back to caution. Though they were sought after then, they are unknown and with little renown to their name now.

How Lucy knew of their obscure order will be a mystery left unanswered as far more dire matters demanded both of their attention. "...I am honored you know of our little order, lady Emma." It was now the man's turn to bask in delight as Lucy tried her best from shuddering. They knew. It was all the confirmation the young lady needed.

"I've buried your kind more times than I bother to count." Lucy fluidly replied, a spark of truth imbued her words as the man's brow perked up slightly.

"I find that hard to believe. Nevertheless, I am not here to trade words." The man said, fishing out from his coat a parchment... no, more like a poster.

"I am here to collect our bounty, lady Emma." Lucy paled at the unmarred reflection she saw from the poster, but she did not allow the weakness to surface for a second longer.

"Over my rotting corpse." Lucy spat out as the man chuckled.

"Perhaps a persuasion is in need." The man said before snapping his fingers. As ordered, two men who had the same garments as the man before her with only a white shirt to separate their station, dragged out a struggling Emma who quickly caught Lucy's gaze.

The older nun tried to scream for danger, but her gagged mouth prevented anything coherent from escaping. "Now lady Emma, I believe that-" A cold whistle fills the air as the ax landed dead center to one of the man's chests.

The world seemed to slow down as Lucy burned with alacrity, power coursing through her legs. The look of surprise burned at the Obsidian Herald's eyes as Lucy crossed half the distance. In a heartbeat, time resumed its pace.

"No!" One of the men screamed out in dismay as he abandoned sister Emma to save his dying comrade. Lucy was more than happy as she snatched Emma away from their grasp, pulling her away to relative safety.

"Are you ok?" Lucy whispered; her gaze remained fixed on the shocked men before her. Sensing an opening, Lucy turned to run when Emma pulled her hand hard.

"W-what have you done?" Voice full of disbelief, Lucy stared down to see the older sister's eyes filled with horror. A pang of regret coursed through her body for a moment before steeling herself once more.

"It... it will be the last time." Lucy weakly promised, but the two knew all too well how truthful that promise was.

"Lucy-"

"Veklan no!"

Lucy pulled Emma back just in time as the blade swung down from one of the roaring sellswords. Steel came crashing down to where Emma was a second ago as the ground shuddered from the enhanced force. The nun quickly tries to regain her balance, preparing to shout for Lucy to stop.

She never had the chance as the words in her throat died. Emma felt her blood run cold when she saw the traumatized young lady she had cared for countless nights, mercilessly struck down at the man's throat. Two power infused blows landed in quick succession, breaking the man's windpipe.

The man would have died a painful asphyxiation when Lucy stole his blade, granting him a swift and painless death through decapitation. The nun could only balk at the sight despite the clean death Lucy had given. The liquid of life poured out from the beheaded corpse as Lucy turned back one last time.

Emotionless amber eyes met horrified violet. The tide of guilt was there but subdued. "I'll meet you back at the manor. For now... just run." It was all Lucy had said as she came barreling towards the abandoned building once more. Eyes burning in gold, ready to kill.

Two down. One to go. Lucy swung the tip of her sword to the last man standing, eyes glaring as he drew his own blade. Steel grinds against steel. The balance quickly shifted however as the man's denser muscles proved to be the deciding factor.

"Vekra." Lucy whispered deathly as power obeyed her command.

Sensing the losing battle, Lucy quickly diverted a large portion of the flow of power into her hips and legs, allowing agility and speed to dictate her movement. Lucy deflected an overblow as her nimble body snaked closer to death.

She raised the tip of her blade before plunging directly into the man's throat, ending the fight quickly to- the man stepped closer, causing the lethal strike to overshoot instead.

Lucy's eyes widened as the man countered with a crushing elbow, eyes burning in gold. Lucy quickly raised her own elbow to meet his. His momentum was far greater as she was forced back considerably.

Realizing the growing predicament, Lucy quickly rolled back, going with the momentum rather than fighting against it. It cushioned the blow significantly, but it weakened her left arm considerably.

Champion... Lucy grimaced as she ducked just in time at the man's ruthless horizontal cut. You've grown soft. Lucy ignored the voice from within as she quickly threw an overhead feint before swinging clockwise.

The man saw through it as he blocked just in time. Complacent. Lucy was forced another step back as the man retaliated with a kick, aiming at her right knee. Predictable. Lucy breathed hard despite power aiding her body.

"What's a champion doing over here?" Lucy asked, buying time as she tried to stabilize her breathing.

"Words won't save you wench." Alas, the man saw her trick as he swung forward, forcing Lucy to deflect as pain rippled across her arms.

Being struck by lightning and surviving was far more common than finding a champion. A testament to her rotten luck as the glaring amber bears down.

Checking her reserves, the young lady could not help but grimace. 120...119... Lucy silently began to count down as she narrowly avoided another strike, aimed at her legs this time.

The biting wind, the burning ache, the desperate struggle, Lucy felt the cold hand of death tighten its grip as her reserves dwindled.

108...109...

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The momentary shock was gone. Lucy quietly pushed the timid girl behind as the cold virescent spear slowly returned. Though she held a blade instead of her favored weapon, it was still far more dangerous than any blade weaver and breaker combined.

Unfortunately, the same could be said to the enraged sellsword. Lucy narrowly loses her eyes as she brought her blade back just in the nick of time.

90...89...

Her body ached, unfamiliar to the rages of battle once more. Her left arm specifically was beginning to weaken drastically. It could not hold as tight as her right as the elbow could not receive the rest it desperately needed.

Compared to her former prime, her movement was a mess. The reaction speed was barely holding on despite the aid of power, and the power she threw was painfully dull in comparison. In the Sunset War, she would have died.

77...76- there...

In this time however, where peace reigned undisputed for the last 34 years, where an entire generation saw bandit raids or monster tides to be the most devastating attack, and aging veterans being replaced with people who knew little of war, Emma was a living nightmare.

The man's eyes grew wide in shock and apprehension when Lucy began to trade blows with ever-increasing speed and lethality.

Never in his life had he fought a champion so young in their teens yet so talented in the art of death. The man had to wonder for a moment if the young lady had her fair share of battles before. For no noble lady, even a prominent son of a renowned blade family for that matter, could fight without blinking in hesitation.

They would have to embark on campaigns. Several close calls and desperate struggles are needed before they can even begin to shrug off the small panic whenever a blade inches closer for their life. Within Lucy's eyes, there was no hesitation to be found, no fear. Only cold determination remains.

It should have been impossible. No young noble, no matter how gifted or deranged they may be, could move and fight without panic clawing at their chest. Yet here she was, trading blows without so much as flinching at another close call that would have cost her her hand. Children would have panicked; Lucy took the opportunity to score a hit instead.

62...61...60...finally...

It took her a solid minute. Half of her reserves and several cuts were made to fully bring out her detestable art. The only art she ever had the chance to master in her previous lifetime. The only art she so desperately wished to be freed of. In the art of death, the virescent spear earned her name.

Blow after blow, Lucy began to weave and strike seemingly like the wind. Gracefully sidestepping and deflecting as if she had learned this dance decades ago. Were they a simple blade weaver or, gods forbid, a regular man, they would have died in seconds.

It was only thanks to the man's similar champion status that he evaded death for so long. Lucy threw a low feint, before committing before feinting again that finally ended with a shallow blow on the man's left leg.

The pattern changes. Lucy threw three consecutive blows, each aiming to weaken the man further before returning once more with feints and deception. Not once did her pattern remain the same. In the Sunset War, where champions roamed the battlefield in search of other champions, be it humans or monsters, a predictable pattern was tantamount to death.

Lucy had learned her lesson the hard way when she was forced to sacrifice 30 of her brothers and sister-in-arms when she failed to take down a champion on her own. Luckily, she had people willing to die for her. Unluckily for the man, he was all alone. Another shallow cut, just above his eyes this time.

30...29...

Yet as if luck had not truly abandoned him, Lucy's supply was deteriorating dangerously. Sensing the depleting stock, Lucy lashed out dangerously close this time as she traded a cut on her cheek for the man's right shoulder.

Before, she would not have risked damaging her newly regained beauty. Now, Lucy would gladly fall on that small hill again for another chance. Another strike to be given.

25... Tsk too shallow... 24...

Were it not for his armor, it would have crippled him in this duel that, in turn, would have ended his life. Sensing her increasing recklessness and desperation, the man began to evade, buying time.

15...14... I'm not going to make it.

With the dawning horror, Lucy desperately began to give chase as the man retreated relentlessly.

9...8...

Lucy manages to plunge the blade yet again into his right shoulder, breaking through the leather this time. The man screamed in agony, but he managed to escape a decapitating strike.

No!

Lucy gave chase, but the light in her eyes began to flicker, power began to abandon her.

5... 4...3-

Her body suddenly felt sluggish as the light in her eyes died. Despair consumed her as the man breathed a sigh of relief.

The tides shifted; the momentum died as the man's glowing eyes endured.

"I'll admit it. I see why my men failed." The man said as he stood a good 7 ft distance, rummaging something within his coat. He pulled out a vial.

It was Lacrum.

The young lady watched on in dismay as the man gulped down the contents of the vial in a single motion. His reserves were refilled in an instant.

"Unfortunately for you, this will be the end. Vekra." The man blurred, without power augmenting her eyes, Lucy had not seen the man move, nor did she saw him took the air out of her body as he lands a crippling blow to her solar plexus.

In a mix of sheer luck and iron determination, Lucy did not pass out immediately. Her body trembled in pain as she looked up just in time for the man to look down in surprise and a small measure of pity in his eyes.

Sighing and shaking his head, he lowered down to finally knock her unconscious. "Really kid, you should have just slept through it." He said as he raised his right hand. "It would have been easier for you and me-"

-2...

The man's eyes widened in alarm as Lucy's eyes flickered to gold. Power returns.

...1...

The man blurred to retreat, but it was too late. Lucy lunges, a sharp rock in her right hand. It barely took a second, but Lucy swung as hard as she could to the man's temple.

...0...

Unfortunately, power died at that moment. All she needed was another second. A second that she could not afford. The blow landed, but in its weakened state, the man manages to hold on to his consciousness. Moving in reflex he send a sharp knee into Lucy's liver, barely holding back from outright killing the girl as she was sent a good 15 ft away.

"You lunatic." The man growled, touching his temples for serious injury. The anger did not last long, however, when he saw the result. Caution coursed through his veins not long after when Lucy gasped desperately for air, her body convulsing in pain.

He did not approach as easily as he once did but rather observed with a healthy dose of paranoia. Death had almost claimed him.

"Not even a thousand gold is worth it for this one." The man said as he approached, cautiously this time despite her defenseless, quivering form. "Just what monsters are you breeding in that estate?" The man waited for Lucy to turn back to face him, making sure she was not hiding any rock or power this time.

"What happened Aiel? I thought you had her?" A voice boomed behind him. Relief ran through his blood this time at the familiar voice of his crew.

"The wench had cut off her supply at the last second." Aiel replied, holding off the sharp pain in his temples as the sound of footsteps drew near.

"Kalva be damn that was close." The voice replied.

"Aye, that was." Aiel replied as several others gathered behind him. "How are the boys doing?" Aiel asked, a tinge of hope possessing his voice.

There was silence before a heavy reply came. "Veklan didn't make it. Cut his head clean off. Aalria... he won't make it Aiel, I'm sorry." The leader of the crew could only nod slowly, not trusting his voice to remain impassive.

"Crazy bitch." A woman cursed, glaring at Lucy but did not dare to come closer. Not after the stunt she just pulled.

"So... what now?" A man asked this time as Lucy slowly turned in pain.

"What else? Bag her up, get paid, and castrate that pig." Another woman replied as Aiel nodded, eyes remaining still on the trembling girl.

"We're not going to lose our heads for damaged goods right?" Another man asked.

A low chuckle infected the small group as a reply came. "Maybe, but if he wants his pet champion back, he will have to restrain himself. We can always sell her to others after all."

"You think he will? This is his daughter after all. I don't think he will be in a forgiving mood if we hand her over like this." The man gestures over Lucy.

"Forgiving or not, he will compensate us for our troubles. No one told us this wench would be a champion after all." A rough reply came back as Aiel nodded back.

"Five thousand gold. That would be our price." Aiel replied as Lucy finally turned.

"All right, bagged her up." The crew nodded as they approached. "I don't want to freeze any longer than I have to in this..." The words died on his lips as the men and women around him froze.

The entire world seemed to grind to a halt as Lucy turned fully in their direction. Despite everything Aiel had thrown at her, the light within her eyes clung on to life.

Her bloodied and fractured body trembles. Whether it was because of pain, fear, or rage, or the combination of the three, they could not tell.

Though the resistance within those eyes was admirable, it was not the reason that made them stop dead in their tracks.

It was the vial clutched within her left hand, slushing with the all too familiar cobalt hue. Lacrum.

Aiel checked his coat, trying to deny the reality before him. When he noticed the missing vial on his coat, Aiel finally realized what had happened. The rock was a diversion, this was her target all along.

The sellswords could only watch helplessly. Even as they rushed to stop the inevitable, Lucy was already pouring the liquid into her throat. In a single gulp, power blazed within her entire being.

The crew jumped back; blades raised as they watched the beaten champion claw back from defeat.

Glaring eyes burning in gold. Ready to kill.