Changeable and unchangeable. Between the two, the treatment of the Infected leaned heavily toward the unchangeable.
For eons, their treatment hadn't shifted. Just as the Sarkaz were persecuted by other races, the discrimination and oppression of the Infected were considered natural laws.
Like water flowing downhill, it was an immutable fact.
Then, how could the Infected be utilized?
The truth of Sector Zero was revealed. The Adeptus Sprawiedliwi likely already knew.
The Merchant Association chose to conceal information to avoid giving any pretext for intervention regarding Sector Zero. In the process, under the guise of maintaining order, they rounded up Infected en masse.
More than Sector Zero could hold.
They deliberately created openings. The Infected inside, already filled with hatred for the knights who imprisoned them, took the bait.
Naturally, they seized weapons and swung them at the knights who showed vulnerability, unaware that the outcome was predetermined.
All to spin a narrative of an Infected uprising!
Evidence could be manufactured. The cunning Association wouldn't leave themselves without an escape route. Their goal was simply to divert public attention to an Infected riot and bury everything while the Champions League was underway.
Did the Adeptus not know? No. They knew and turned a blind eye.
But as the Association became more troublesome, the Adeptus summoned the Silverlance Pegasi.
"…Hello?"
And thus, the situation spiraled into the worst possible scenario.
Clank.
"What is this...?"
After a distinct ringing sound, the city‘s lights went out. Emergency power kicked in, illuminating parts of the dark city, but it couldn't replicate the former brilliance.
Raquelamalin looked around in confusion. In a world swallowed by darkness, she narrowed her eyes.
Power was slowly returning, but it only served to create a more ominous atmosphere. Lights flickered on and off. In the shadows, Sona gripped her sword.
"A trap?"
"I don't know. But being prepared won't hurt."
Sona drew her sword instantly, aiming into the dark. Larin immediately conjured a small light with her Arts.
The strength of her Arts lay in versatility. Language could become anything; she used her will to manifest her power.
Severance, penetration—Words of Power were essentially will made manifest.
Whoosh. The sound of something cutting through the wind reached them.
Sona threw herself aside the moment she heard it. Larin, recalling the massive spear thrown by the Darkiron in the past, didn't hesitate to layer dozens of thin barriers to block the arrow.
Clang!
With a metallic ring, the arrow embedded itself in Larin's shield. She frowned at the sight of it.
Blue. An arrow glowing like lapis lazuli.
"…Worst case scenario."
Not one, but two. And if these two were the ones controlling the Armorless Union?
Sona‘s face twisted. Even in the dim light of the blackout, she could see the blue glow.
Lazurites.
Effectively the voices of the Darkirons, the commanders of the Union's assassins had appeared.
"Hmm, this won't be easy."
"Just watch out for one. The red one doesn't matter."
Two Kuranta, a man and a woman with blue hair who looked like siblings, stared down at Sona and Larin, leading their subordinates.
"…Lazurites!!"
Sona‘s eyes turned feral. Her sworn enemies stood before her.
Boom! Kicking off the ground, she swung her sword. Her blade clashed with the bow wielded by the male Lazurite, emitting a screeching sound.
"A bit aggressive."
"Shut up, you murderers...!"
The enemy wasn't alone. Union troops and the Lazurite commanders. Larin raised her bone-whistle and swung her arm.
"Where are you looking? I think I'm your opponent."
The blue-haired woman sighed as she watched her brother fighting fiercely with Sona. As if she had expected this outcome.
"I got stuck with the annoying one. It would have been better if they had come."
She raised her bow. Taking a stance as if firing a cannon, the female Lazurite loosed an arrow. It flew toward Larin, but she rolled to dodge it.
"…Interesting. Most Casters freeze up and take an arrow to the forehead. You're different."
"I was taught that fighting like that is a good way to die."
Larin exhaled a short breath and took her stance.
Most Casters specialize in one element. Fire users throw fireballs or explosions. Few throw both fire and ice simultaneously.
But Sarkaz sorcery defies common sense.
She exploited that blind spot, assuming Lazurite didn't know the full extent of her Arts yet.
Another arrow was fired. It split mid-air, ricocheting off walls like a shotgun blast. Larin leaped, twisting her body to dodge the shrapnel-like arrows.
Lazurite entered her narrowed field of vision. The archer sensed something strange.
'The arrows... slow down when they enter a certain range.'
A subtle difference, but enough to allow evasion. It felt dangerous to approach the ash-like aura surrounding Larin.
And there were reinforcements. The troops waiting for Lazurite's command.
Her brother was enjoying his sword dance with the red-tailed woman, but variables had to be minimized.
The troops behind her drew their bows. Some held spears, others swords. Men who lived by killing.
There would be no surprises.
Or so she thought, until ash-gray lightning rippled through the air. The bolt fired instantly, forcing Lazurite to roll ungracefully to dodge.
"Gaaah!"
Naturally, since Lazurite dodged, the troops behind her screamed as the lightning struck them instead.
She couldn't remember the last time she had been forced to roll on the ground.
"You...!"
"A shame. If you'd just stood there looking stupid, I would have turned you into roast meat."
Blue light gathered at the tip of an arrow. Taking that as a signal, the Union members charged.
Larin swiped her hand down, bone-whistle in hand, and ash-gray flames erupted. The fire seemed alive as it engulfed the enemies, filling the air with the acrid smell of burning.
"Why stop? Keep laughing."
She hadn't been standing still while with Yujin. Words of Power are the manifestation of language. She made it possible.
Larin looked at Lazurite with a sneer.
"You'll end up like them soon enough."
She was a Sarkaz.
A race that lived in perpetual war, making a living as mercenaries.
A race despised by all.
To survive in that world, even a princess could not afford to be weak.
Especially after training with Yujin.
Grind. Lazurite gritted her teeth and glared at Larin. That Sarkaz was looking down on her.
"I'll teach you your place, Sarkaz."
"I beg you to try."
With a roar, arrow and Word clashed once more.
Clack. Night had fallen, the moon rising. Surrounded by neon lights, the sky was invisible, but the ringing in his ears was clear.
An old man with age spots on his face looked down at the city, wearing light armor that defied the ravages of time and carrying a massive longbow on his back.
It had been a long time since he had seen stars in this neon-drenched city. Only faint memories of stargazing in the grasslands of his childhood remained.
"Sleep, Kavalerielki. My beloved Grand Knight Territory."
The world changes. His aged body couldn't chase that change. All that remained was to pass on his will to the next generation.
Just like this city now.
After the distinct ringing, his world went dark.
He didn't just close his eyes. Literally, his world darkened. Watching Kavalerielki go black, the old man looked up at the sky.
Below, confused citizens were visible. Soon, the sectors would separate due to the blackout.
But the old man ignored them and looked up.
The stars, hidden by the city lights, were now visible. The old scenery he loved was back in his eyes.
"To have faith, and reach the stars."
Could he reach them?
Recalling a line from a novel he read long ago, he gripped his bow.
"To reach my star, I must kill you."
Speaking words that would go unheard, the old man released the bowstring.