Pierced, shredded—the overwhelming agony left Lancer unable to even scream, but he was all too clear about his dire situation.
[ATTRIBUTES]
He wasn't truly "datafied," but those detailed status indicators were clear enough. Scanning through a row of DEBUFFS—[Weakness], [Bleeding], [Severed Arm]—he felt dizziness from sheer blood loss. Surprisingly, [Alucard], now riddled with damage, had somehow not yet shattered completely.
That Imperial Arm was now Lancer's last hope, tirelessly feeding stored blood back into his ravaged body, stubbornly keeping him alive.
Honest's laughter rang loudly nearby. Lancer didn't know precisely what had happened, but he was certain Honest had engineered this near-fatal mutual destruction between him and Esdeath.
Yet, hearing Honest's footsteps, he didn't dare relax. From earlier observations, he knew Honest possessed considerable martial skill. Injured as he was, his only chance lay in an ambush.
In truth, Lancer was overly cautious—he had no idea how horrifically injured he actually was.
Suspended above a snow-white icefield, four massive ice spears as thick as a man's arm pinned him grotesquely in mid-air. Beneath him stretched a bloody pool several meters wide, composed mostly of his blood mixed with Esdeath's, continually dripping like a morbid fountain. Anyone else would have long since died.
Only his Teigu kept him barely hanging onto life.
Honest, ever cautious, slowly approached after a few tentative checks. Seeing Esdeath impaled through the heart, dead eyes wide in disbelief, and Lancer suspended lifelessly, he finally relaxed a bit. After careful consideration, he moved forward carrying a Shingu designed to collect blood.
The whole reason he'd killed Esdeath was to rectify his previous blunders—collecting her blood was essential for reclaiming [Demon God Manifestation: Demon's Extract].
But suddenly, Honest spotted Lancer's "corpse" twitch slightly. Instinctively cautious, he jumped back several steps.
The battle he'd just witnessed had profoundly shaken him. If Esdeath gave off an unstoppable aura through sheer power, Lancer exuded an unmatched ferocity from raw skill alone, penetrating all defenses as though unstoppable.
Even now, impaled and seemingly lifeless, Honest didn't dare underestimate him.
He kicked away the lance from Lancer's limp left hand, ripped off the tattered cloak from his shoulder, and finally felt confident. A faint smirk appeared—Lancer had to be powerless now. He wasn't about to rise up like some undead, right?
Squatting down, Honest placed his Shingu into the pooled blood, but then—
The left hand he'd assumed dead suddenly seized his belt, and the harmless leather instantly transformed into a lance.
Alerted by either the wind behind him or the sudden shadow, Honest instinctively lunged forward. But Lancer had painstakingly prepared this strike; the stiff lance abruptly writhed like a living thing.
"What—?!"
Honest cried out as his shoulder was punctured cleanly through. Lancer, eyes burning with fury, manipulated the [Quinque] for another strike. At that moment, however, the familiar dimensional rift opened behind Honest again.
Honest shot a venomous glare at Lancer before vanishing once more.
Watching his enemy escape, the anger vanished from Lancer's eyes, replaced by cold mockery.
"Did you really think I'd fall for the same trick twice…?"
Indeed, he'd long anticipated Honest might slip away, so he'd coated the Quinque's tip with poison.
In duels, poison was considered dishonorable—but this was no duel. It was war, plain and simple, where victory was all that mattered. This poison, distilled from a pouch of deadly toxins, could fell even an Elder Dragon dozens of meters long. A mere human stood no chance.
A shame I won't get to see his corpse…
With his goal accomplished, Lancer's taut nerves finally relaxed, and his vision slowly dimmed into darkness.
The heart of the battlefield now stood empty, save for two "corpses."
Strangely, the blood pool beneath them had ceased expanding, shrinking instead. The cloak lying soaked in blood steadily darkened, and the blood dripping from Lancer's crystallized arm had halted unnoticed. Even the clear ice crystals gradually grew murky, dyed crimson.
...
Thud!
Honest collapsed unceremoniously to the ground, panic-stricken.
"Antidotes! Get me antidotes, quickly!"
Though mere seconds had passed, Honest already sensed the poison ravaging his body. His lips turned a ghastly shade of purple.
The Teigu-user wielding [Shambhala] scrambled to retrieve Honest's personal collection of antidotes.
Nothing worked—useless, utterly useless!
A deep fear of death seized Honest. No! I can't die yet! I haven't conquered the Empire!
"Stylish! Get me Stylish—now!"
Normal methods wouldn't save him now, but Dr. Stylish's capabilities were different. His human modification Teigu might still pull Honest back from death's brink!
The loyal Shambhala user immediately teleported Dr. Stylish in. Yet, upon arriving, Dr. Stylish's eyes flashed with an unsettling gleam at Honest's poisoned condition.
"I believe…I may have a solution."
"Then hurry up!"
"Wait. I'll need your help to retrieve some supplies."
"No prob—Aaaaaargh!!!"
Words cut short, the [Shambhala]-user stared in disbelief at his own opened abdomen, confusion twisting his dying features as he toppled over.
Dr. Stylish didn't spare him a glance. Instead, he grinned wickedly down at Honest, whose breathing had grown ragged.
"Lord Honest, it's all thanks to you~ Without your betrayal, I'd never have become a hunted fugitive. Surely you're willing to assist me now, yes?"
...
The Empire claimed victory in the first battle of the civil war, though not without great sacrifice. General Lancer, the Empire's Bloodstained Executioner, had fallen in battle.
Yet the rebellion suffered worse: four Teigu-users slain, their Imperial Arms—[Shambhala], [Murasame], [Demon's Extract], [Perfector]—all destroyed or lost.
Following the Butcher's death, the Emperor himself presided over Lancer's funeral, attended by countless officials and commoners alike.
Yet who among the mourners truly grieved? None knew for sure. Many nobles smiled subtly—even though the Emperor's cleansing plans would undoubtedly continue, the death of the Empire's ruthless executioner filled them with undeniable delight.
But as the Empire buzzed over Lancer's demise, a lone figure trudged across the frozen wasteland.
The clash between Esdeath and Lancer had left the battlefield locked in ice and snow. Ice-formed Danger Beasts roamed freely, and an endless, twisting maze made rescue impossible. After losing multiple search parties and even several Shingu-wielders, the Empire abandoned its rescue attempts entirely. One person, however, refused to quit.
Since awakening, Leone had been unusually quiet. Hearing news of the brutal fight between Lancer and Esdeath, she'd made a shocking decision.
She would save Lancer.
She refused to believe he was dead.
By the time others realized Leone had vanished, she'd already plunged deep into the icy maze. Lost, freezing, and disoriented, every path seemed familiar yet led nowhere. Despite frostbite setting in even on her strengthened limbs, she persisted.
She had faith. Just as Lancer once saved her, she believed she'd find him, even if her belief was utterly baseless. Self-hypnosis or stubbornness, she refused to abandon hope.
After stumbling blindly for a full day and night, whether by sheer luck or guided by some instinctive call, Leone finally spotted Lancer impaled by ice spears.
Her exhaustion instantly vanished, eyes wide, heart pounding. Racing to his suspended body, she pressed her ear to his chest.
A relieved sigh escaped her lips. Thank heavens—he still has a heartbeat…
Noticing his dire condition, Leone's eyes fell on his missing right arm shimmering with eerie blue light. Blood continually flowed from Esdeath's corpse into Lancer through his cloak.
She immediately grasped the situation.
Warmth thawed Leone's frozen expression. Gently cupping his face, she did something utterly unexpected—she kissed him softly.
Within this frozen hell, time stood still. When Leone finally withdrew, her tender expression had hardened into iron resolve.
"Sir, perhaps this is all I can do for you now…"
Whispering softly, Leone slit open her wrist, letting her fresh blood pour into Lancer's Teigu. As crimson life flooded him, Lancer's pale face regained faint color, even as Leone's own rapidly paled…
---
T/N: no... esdeath truly is dead WAHHH NO REDEMPTION ARC
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