D-DAY!
An hour prior
The three sat in the living area of the private chamber, all wearing their usual adventuring attire. Zen looked profoundly shocked, with a distinct hint of disapproval. Edmund also appeared deeply uncomfortable.
"So… the reason Her Majesty has been so complacent toward you is that you are a wielder of the mythical affinity, Cryomancy?" Zen asked.
G6 had kept her bargain with the Queen from Edmund and Zen until this day of judgment. To make Zen understand, she had finally revealed what the monarch had been concealing. Thus far, only the Queen, Leo the butler, Edmund, Tina, and Lilia were aware of G6's bizarre skills.
"I am quite knowledgeable about the hearsay surrounding Cryomancy, as one can find replica texts on the subject in Omnia," Zen said. "But to think… never mind that. Why would the Queen ask you to 'clean up'? Has she finally lost her touch, and now drags you into their political world?"
"I find it amusing, too. She doesn't really know if I'm capable. She's just following speculation and a hunch based on that book and her observation of me. Pretty brave, huh?" G6 said.
"Lady Reise," Edmund interjected. "You said the mythical affinity requires cleansing to rank up, correct?"
"Yep. That's what it said in that damn old book."
The secrecy in this affair was profound, so profound it was almost incomprehensible. Zen's thoughts churned. The well-known hearsay about Cryomancy was that to wield it, one had to die and be reborn. Did Lady Reise… perhaps die once?
"Captain, do not trust the Queen too much. After all, she remains a woman upon the seat of power," Zen said.
"Isn't it thanks to that seat that you were able to reclaim your rights and now roam freely around Collegium?" G6 countered.
"I was grateful for Her Majesty's assistance. However, it became transactional the moment she demanded something in return. That gratefulness has since vanished. I merely see her as a person to whom I owe a debt," Zen stated, his voice cool. "I have never trusted her."
"Hmm. Amusing," G6 said. "You're quite smart, Zero. No wonder she had her eyes on you." She leaned back into her chair. "Anyway, cleaning out some pests isn't that bothersome."
"I do not understand you, Captain," Zen said. "I will not ask why you are so unhinged in the act of killing. I can tell you are not the type of person who harms others without valid reason. You may be known as a sheltered and spoiled noble, but I have always believed every person has their own story…" He trailed off.
G6 gave him no expression, just her usual neutral mask. "However?" she said, as if she already knew his next word.
Zen looked down for a moment, gathering the courage to confront G6 on a matter he knew could endanger him if she disliked his words. Then he looked straight into her eyes. "What is your purpose, Captain—no, Lady Reise? Why are you so restless? Why do you act so… occupied, in a way that is almost too chaotic to follow? I do not understand why you go out of your way to venture. It feels new to you, and yet it does not truly seem to amuse you."
Edmund remained silent. He had been following G6, serving as both her butler and right hand, without fully comprehending her true desires.
G6 remained silent for a long pause… then she stood up, walked to the window, and watched the fully risen sun. She crossed her arms and leaned her head against the window frame.
"Life as a noble, all of this… it feels suffocating. So, every time I walk outside these massive palace walls, I feel free. I also want to know what's out there. I'm looking for something, even though I don't know what it is." Her face and voice were devoid of any feeling. "At least, that's what I keep telling myself." She then looked at the two men. "The truth is, I was never taught how to rest. I only knew one purpose for my living, and in the blink of an eye, I was stripped of it. I've been trying to find a new one, but the truth is, I have no plan to change that old purpose, either. It's too late to look another way. It's already become my entire being—a part of me that's indispensable. So, instead of looking for a new purpose, I'm just going to continue to live for the old one."
Zen and Edmund had no idea what she was talking about, but they could see it.
They could see it in her lifeless eyes.
She did not know how to live… like a normal human being would.
What exactly is this purpose that made you this way? The thoughts of Edmund and Zen.
"Don't fret about the Queen using me. She would never fathom what will happen to her, if she is." G6's expression turned chilling. "I won't think twice the moment I'm betrayed. Politics? Authority? I don't care about such things. I live by my own rules."
'Live by my own rules'? It means she doesn't care about political fallout. Zen's thoughts
Zen let out a heavy sigh and massaged the nape of his neck. "So, how do you plan on disposing this criminal?" he asked, finally giving up on trying to decipher what G6 truly wanted.
Edmund smiled at Zen; he had finally let down his guard against G6… unknowingly.
"Well, I practiced a lot over these two days to perfect this," G6 said. "You'll like it, too."
"Captain, you are not thinking of using your affinity, are you?" Edmund asked.
"Of course not," G6 said. "The Three Pillars will be present. I won't do anything that could point a finger at Duke Worthton." It would be bothersome if it would lead back to me.
"That is the right call. So, how will you do it? Will you be coming to the Grand Arena? If so, they are likely all already there," Zen said.
"Nuh-uh. Do you know the Grand Arena's greatest weakness and the public's hunger for a spectacle?" G6 asked. The two men shook their heads. "The arena is wide open to the sky, and their hunger for publication will cost them." G6 smirked. "Approximately, from the sky, the Grand Arena is one kilometer away from here."
"You are saying… you will attack from the sky?" Zen asked.
"Exactly," G6 said. "Thanks to me being overqualified, it feels like cheating." She then looked out the window, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "Oddly, I always feel this immense prowess came with a greater price."
On the roof above, Daunt, having just finished his aerial scouting, had been listening to their entire conversation.
It is great. I hope you are strong enough to handle it, Daunt thought as he gazed at the far mountains and embraced the breeze.
-ˋˏ✄ - - - - - - - ♡
「MAIN PALACE—GRAND ARENA」
The nobles filled their designated sections below the royal dais, a mosaic of expression. Pride, anxiety, simmering anger.
And scheming. This last was etched on the face of the man in the highest seat of the Court House bleachers: Marquis Vinesthorne.
Ha… To think the King would hand over the criminal so readily, without deeper inquiry… The timing is impeccable.
"Announcement! The Three Pillars have arrived: His Grace, Duke Worthon; His Grace, Duke De Lune; His Grace, Duke Nocturne!"
A single trumpet blast heralded their entrance. The three imposing Dukes entered the arena, receiving bowed heads from the assembled nobility before taking their seats of honor just below the dais.
The Marquis's gaze tracked them, lingering with particular venom on Duke Worthon. Once I perfect the artificial mage process within our bloodline… I will dismantle the Worthons first.
Four trumpet blasts shattered the air next. "Their Royal Majesties arrive! Accompanied by His Highness the Crown Prince and His Highness the Second Prince!"
All rose and bowed as the royal procession ascended. The King and Queen took their thrones, the princes standing as sentinels beside the King.
"Now that all esteemed parties are present," boomed Setros, the Head Justice of the Royal Court, "I shall preside over the judgment of the criminal who has held this kingdom in fear, who has slaughtered the innocent without remorse. In the name of God Eldrin, no sin shall be hidden, no lie permitted in this sacred proceeding!"
"Bring forth the criminal!" the King commanded.
The gates groaned open. The criminal shuffled in, a picture of exhaustion, his body encased in heavy, rune-carved chains designed to disable mana. He was clearly unhinged; his eyes bulged wildly, his teeth ground together as he rasped a single, guttural word over and over: "Die. Die. Die."
"He is utterly lost. And that viper claims he can make him talk?" Crown Prince Amir whispered to his brother, disdain curling his lip.
"I cannot fathom what Mother is thinking," Prince Dio replied, his displeasure a cold, hard thing beside him.
"It has been revealed," Setros continued, "that the criminal is an artificial mage, infused with the forbidden affinity of Invisibility. Given the grave and perilous nature of this blasphemous practice, the Royal Court has ruled to spare the criminal's life until the source of the stolen Neviden blood is uncovered. In accordance with this agreement, custody shall be transferred to the Head of the Upper Court House—Marquis Vinesthorne." Setros turned to the throne. "Does Your Majesty concur?"
"I concur," the King stated, his voice devoid of inflection.
"Then let the ceremony proceed. As Head of the Investigation, His Highness Prince Dio Einston shall transfer all authority to the Chief of the Silver Company, Rarlen Vinesthorne."
Rarlen stepped forward gracefully, kneeling before the dais with a smile that did not reach his predatory eyes.
The Pillars, the Princes—all glanced toward the Queen, a silent plea for reassurance. The Queen herself felt a coil of anxiety tighten in her chest. She had heard nothing from G6.
"Your Highness, if you would," Setros prompted.
Prince Dio's expression was granite, his movements stiff with profound reluctance as he descended the dais. A royal attendant followed, bearing a velvet pillow upon which rested the scroll of royal decree.
I do not know your scheme, Mother, Dio thought, ice in his veins. But I pray you have not miscalculated.
He took the scroll, looking down at the kneeling Rarlen. "I, the Second Prince and Head of the Investigation, hereby transfer all authority in this matter to Chief Rarlen Vinesthorne of the Silver Company."
Across the arena, the faces of the Vinesthorne faction could not conceal their gloating, greedy triumph.
This is profoundly wrong, Dio's thought was a final, silent protest.
-IN THE SKIES-
G6 had watched the entire spectacle from the beginning, arms crossed as if viewing a tedious play.
"Are you enjoying the show, Reise?" Daunt's voice rumbled beneath her.
"Immensely. They're doing the hand-off now. Look at the Queen's face," G6 laughed, a short, sharp sound. "She's practically vibrating."
"Sly creature," Daunt remarked, his tone brimming with perverse pride.
G6 materialized her weapon—the CheyTac-inspired mana construct, its form refined with wind affinity for stability and range.
"You know, I drilled this shot for two days straight," she mused, already settling the scope against her eye, positioning Daunt with subtle shifts of her weight.
"What, precisely, is your intended outcome?" Daunt asked.
"Hmm… something memorable," she replied, her voice dropping to a focused murmur.
Perception Skill.
The world below snapped into hyper-clarity. She could see the frantic tap-tap-tap of the Queen's fingers on her throne.
She watched Prince Dio hand over the scroll. She watched Rarlen turn, taking his first triumphant steps toward his prize.
"Alright. Showtime."
Her eyes changed. The casual amusement vanished, replaced by a chilling, absolute focus. A murderous aura, so dense and cold it made the very air around them crackle with frost, bled from her. Even Daunt felt a primal shudder at the intensity of it.
Frigid moisture spiraled from the atmosphere, coalescing into a swirling vortex of hoarfrost at the tip of the barrel. She aligned the crosshair on the criminal's back, precisely over the location of his mana core. A slow, wicked smile touched her lips.
"Target locked."
She pulled the trigger.
A silent, concentrated beam of absolute cold—the Fracture Point spell—lanced downward. It was not a projectile, but a precise, devastating transfer of entropy. It touched the criminal's back and passed through him as if he were mist, piercing the unstable, grafted mana core at his center.
Rarlen was two steps away, his hand half-outstretched, when the criminal shattered.
It was not an explosion of fire and force, but one of crystallizing cold and violent decompression. The body did not burn; it disintegrated, frozen flesh and brittle bone fracturing into a million crystalline pieces before pulverizing into a fine,pink mist and unrecognizable viscera. The arena floor for ten feet around was painted in a sudden, grotesque Rorschach blot of gore.
Rarlen was drenched—splattered from head to toe in blood and flecked with unidentifiable tissue. A collective, wet *crunch-squelch* echoed as Rarlen, in his shock, took an involuntary step backward, his boot grinding something unidentifiable and semi-frozen into the arena sand.
A beat of perfect, deafening silence swallowed the Grand Arena. Then, a collective, gasped inhale from a spectator's throats.
Fear, profound and visceral, replaced confusion. The Three Pillars, the Princes, the King—all whirled to look at the Queen. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. This was not her plan. Her complexion was sheet-white, her eyes wide and glued to the horrific spectacle, her knuckles bone-white where she gripped her throne.
"INTRUDER! SHIELD THEIR MAJESTIES!" Duke De Lune's roar was the first to shatter the silence, the Duke himself leaping forward, magic flaring at his hands.
The two princes snapped into defensive stances before their parents. The three Dukes formed a formidable wall in front of the dais.
"FIND THE ASSASSIN!" Duke Worthon commanded, his voice a thunderclap of authority as he summoned a swirling vortex of wind—Whisper of the Gale—to scour the skies for trace, for scent, for any clue.
High above, unseen, G6 watched the beautiful chaos unfold, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I didn't anticipate you opting for such… theatrical brutality. Is this a message for the Queen?" Daunt inquired as he began a slow, banking turn.
She merely smirked and patted his head. "Mission accomplished. Let's go."
Daunt let out a huff that was almost a sigh and descended toward the rendezvous point where Edmund and Zen waited.
Audience impact, G6 thought as the wind whipped her cloak around her, making her look like nothing less than a departing Grim Reaper. That's what makes a performance unforgettable.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏
The silence that followed Duke Worthon's command was brittle, charged with panic and disbelief. The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air.
Rarlen Vinesthorne remained on his knees, not in reverence, but in shock. He stared at his red-slicked hands, trembling violently. A low, broken whimper escaped him—a sound utterly alien from the proud Chief of moments before.
On the dais, Prince Dio was the first to break from his defensive posture. His sharp, scanning eyes sought not an intruder in the distance, but the specifics of the carnage. The precision. The cold. The absolute, disrespectful obliteration of the evidence. A strange, awful certainty settled in his gut. He slowly turned his head to look at his mother.
The Queen met his gaze. Her initial shock was hardening into something else—a dawning, icy comprehension laced with sheer terror.
Was this your message to me, if I did not keep our bargain… G6? the Queen thought.
Marquis Vinesthorne was on his feet, his face a contorted mask of fury and thwarted ambition. "This is an outrage! A direct attack on the Royal Court itself!" he bellowed, though the rage in his eyes was pure, unadulterated greed, violently denied.
The five angels approached the dais. "Forgive us, Your Majesty, but the coast is clear. We can find no sign of an intruder," Kepler reported.
"The shot came from above," Duke Worthon declared, his gale winds dispersing the worst of the haze. "But the trace… it vanishes. It is as if the wind knows something, and yet knows nothing."
"What is this?" Duke Nocturne said, his deep voice a rumble. He stepped toward the edge of the carnage, careful not to tread in it. He extended a hand over the frozen crystals, which were slowly disappearing—not melting, but sublimating into smoke. "This is not natural frost. This is… a profound absence."
Crown Prince Amir looked from the gruesome scene to his pale mother, then to his calculating brother. "It would be wise if you, Mother and Father, retreated inside the palace. If the attack came from above, it is not safe here."
"That is indeed the right decision," Dio concurred.
"I will escort Her Majesty and His Majesty inside," Captain Kepler offered.
"That would be most appreciated, Captain Kepler," Prince Amir said.
"After you have seen to the scene, join me in my study—together with the Three Pillars," the King said, before ushering the Queen from the arena.
Princes Amir and Dio merely bowed.
Rarlen was ushered away by one of his father's servants. Marquess Vinesthorne approached Duke Nocturne, his expression dark. "We will be taking the remains…"
"No. You are not," Prince Amir said, arriving at their spot along with Prince Dio. "Marquess, the moment that criminal was killed in the King's presence, the matter fell under Royal jurisdiction. Your custody is denied. This is an order." Prince Amir's sharp glance was a blade.
The Marquess gritted his teeth. "I understand, Your Highness," he said through them, before retreating in furious defeat.
The nobles were ushered out, their whispers a swelling tide of horror and speculation that would flood the capital's salons before nightfall. The message was clear: the show was over, but the true drama had just been moved behind closed doors.
The Princes shared another glance at the vomitous sight. "The one who did this… is no human," Prince Amir murmured.
-The King's Private Council Chamber-
The heavy oak door sealed shut, muting the world outside. The room, lined with maps and treatises, felt suddenly claustrophobic. The King stood by the hearth, his back to the room. Crown Prince Amir leaned against the mantle, arms crossed, his usual composure fractured by a deep frown. Prince Dio stood by the window, staring out as if he could still see the crimson stain on the distant arena sand.
The Three Pillars were seated, their postures rigid. Duke Worthon's fingers drummed a silent, agitated rhythm on the arm of his chair. Duke Nocturne's face was a somber mask of contemplation. Duke De Lune looked directly at the Queen, who had taken a seat, her hands folded too tightly in her lap.
It was William Worthon who broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically blunt, bypassing all decorum. "Your Majesty," he said, addressing the Queen. "The… resolution of the criminal. Was this the 'handling' you spoke of in our prior council?"
All eyes fixed on her. The King did not turn, but his shoulders tensed.
The Queen drew a slow breath. The lie was a risk, but the truth—the existence of her bargain with the inhuman girl—was a greater one. She must protect the asset, and herself.
"No," she stated, her voice clear but strained. "It was not. My intention, as I discussed with the subject I commissioned, was for a subtler intervention. A specialized toxin, administered after the transfer, to degrade the blood's magical viability for study. Slow, untraceable, and deniable. This…" She gestured weakly, the image of the explosion flashing behind her eyes. "This was not subtle. This was a… a grotesque public execution."
The King finally turned, his gaze heavy. "Then who? And why in such a manner?"
"The 'why' is perhaps clearer than the 'who'," rumbled Duke Nocturne. "It was not merely an execution. It was an eradication. The method ensured there was nothing left to study—no blood, no tissue, no unstable mana core to dissect. It was a statement of total obliteration."
Prince Dio turned from the window, his icy eyes sharp. "You believe it was the source, then. The one who created the artificial mage in the first place."
"It is the logical conclusion," Duke De Lune said, steepling his fingers. "We assumed the mastermind wanted the criminal back to silence him. But what if their greater fear was not his words, but his body? The physical evidence of their blasphemous craft? Our public handover presented the perfect, final opportunity to destroy that evidence irrevocably."
Crown Prince Amir pushed off the mantle. "So we are dealing with an entity—or a faction—with not only heretical knowledge but also access to a mage of terrifying, precise power. One who can execute a single shot from an undetectable distance with a… a cold affinity I have never seen recorded."
"An affinity that leaves no trace but absence," Duke Worthon added, his wind-search having found nothing. "It speaks of a profound, and deeply hidden, expertise."
The Queen listened, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. They were weaving their own narrative, one far more convenient and politically charged than the truth. She carefully schooled her features into an expression of grim agreement. "Then our adversary is even more ruthless and capable than we feared. They are not hiding in the shadows; they are willing to strike at the very heart of a royal ceremony to protect their secrets."
"Not only are they blasphemous… but to have the audacity to attack before the King. Just who is this dangerous entity?" Duke De Lune said.
"It changes everything," the King said, his voice gravelly. "This is no longer merely a manhunt for a rogue alchemist. This is a high-level threat to the kingdom's ontological security. The practice of artificial mage creation is bad enough. That its architects command such power… and are willing to use it so brazenly…" He let the implication hang.
Prince Dio's gaze lingered on his mother. He saw the fear, but also the calculation. Her denial felt true, yet the outcome served her stated goal—the criminal was gone, the Vinesthorne play was shattered. The coincidence was… fortuitous. A thread of doubt, cold and sharp, pulled taut in his mind.
"Then our response must be equally profound," Dio said, redirecting the room's focus. "We must assume the enemy is within our walls, or at least has eyes upon them. The investigation must continue, but now its primary objective is to find the source of this magic, not just the blood."
"For now, we keep this confidential. And it becomes one of our highest priorities," the King said, his face turning severe. "Just who do these people think they are, to wreak such havoc in my kingdom?"
The council nodded, a new, more dangerous consensus forming in the wake of the horror. A phantom enemy had been conjured from mist and gore—a perfect scapegoat born from their own assumptions.
As the meeting shifted to logistics and security, the Queen allowed herself a shallow breath. G6's "clean-up" had been monstrously effective. It had not only fulfilled the bargain but had also, entirely unintentionally, painted a giant target on a fictional enemy, drawing all suspicion and fury away from the real people—nobles involved.
You chaotic, brilliant, terrifying girl, the Queen thought, a shiver that was not entirely dread tracing her spine. What have you truly set in motion?
Outside, the kingdom buzzed with theories of the carnage. A new, dangerous enemy had appeared—one to be feared… by the corrupt.
–To be continued…–