RUN

Britannia | ??? Village

In a quiet village surrounded by endless fields of green, a child lies in the grass— her long black hair fanned out beneath her. Her deep violet eyes reflect the blue sky. She wears a simple yet elegant black dress. Behind her rests a curved, weathered scythe.

Footsteps rush over the soft dirt. A boy comes running— blond hair tousled by the wind, yellow eyes gleaming. He wears a white shirt and matching trousers, already smudged with grass and dirt.

“Celestia!” he calls.

She turns her head slightly. “Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur skids to a stop beside her, panting. His eyes dart to the scythe behind her.

“Aren’t you at least a little curious about pulling that sword?”

Celestia blinks slowly. “I’m not good with swords.” she replies with a faint smile. “So I won’t try.”

Arthur laughs, picking up her scythe and swinging it clumsily through the air. “You know a scythe isn’t exactly a good weapon. Swords are way better.”

“You’re right.” she says, folding her hands behind her head. “But I like it. Besides… being a king sounds like a hassle. Exhausting, really.”

Arthur grins. “And yet, when I look at people— I want to change something.”

Celestia’s laugh rings out, light and genuine. She sits up, eyes glinting. “Then I’ll join you, Arthur. Do you see them?”

Arthur’s smile fades slightly. His eyes glow faintly.

“…Yes. I see too much.”

For a brief moment, he sees them— silhouettes flickering at Celestia’s side. A woman. A man. Their features blurred, their presence unsettling. Unknowable.

Celestia rises to her feet and walks to stand beside him.

“By the way, Arthur…” Her voice softens. “I want to study under a mage. His name is Merlin. Oh— and I forgot. If you ever see death… let me be your servant.”

Arthur raises a brow. “Why such loyalty?”

She chuckles. “Because this country is crumbling. But with you as ruler… I think it could rise again. Pull that sword— and we’ll make something new.”

Arthur stares at her for a long moment, then bursts out laughing. “I will try it. And… wait— are you talking about Merlin the mage?”

Celestia smirks. “You know him?”

“He’s my mentor.”

Her eyes widen. A grin spread across her lips. “Can you— ugh, I hate asking for favours, you know?”

“Sure. I will let you meet him.” Arthur says, shrugging. “But I don’t think he’ll like your choice of weapon. Scythes are pretty… unconventional.”

“I can’t use anything else.” Celestia answers, turning slightly away. “Death has always followed me. I got comfortable with it. I won’t run from it anymore. So it's natural for me to choose the weapon of the reaper.”

Arthur watches her, silent now.

Celestia breathes in the air and shifts the topic. “Let me meet your mentor. And after that… let’s go. I want to see you pull that sword.”

Arthur’s voice drops. “You’re more confident than I am.”

“We’re not here to lead.” she says gently. “We’re here to support you.”

He looks deeper into her eyes— and hears something. Voices. Not just hers alone.

Three of them, whispering behind her words. And faintly, flickering in the corner of his vision— three figures standing at her side.

He swallows. His voice is quiet. “Celestia…?”

Her gaze turns distant. Something ancient slips into her tone. She speaks with them. Through them.

“...Arthur.”

Emberium

The sky over Emberium burns black from the presence of that draconic being.

Celestia stands beneath it— her form radiant with black aura. The shadow of death coils around her like a living mantle. A visor forms across her face— scaled, jagged, with glowing red slits over her eyes. Her presence feels ancient. Inevitable.

She lifts her scythe and swings.

The air splits open in a violent arc— a glowing wound in the atmosphere itself, deep, ominous purple. Space trembles in its wake.

Mephisto's voice echoes.

“Celestia… I’m sorry. That my power wasn’t—”

“I wanted to run.” she says aloud, her voice low but steady. “To believe in sorcery. Because I’d lost the cause of being a knight. It felt like betrayal.”

Her gaze shifts toward Ryusaki, who sits on his throne— sword beside him, posture regal. A false king.

“But if he tries to take control— of society, of this world— it’s like spitting on Arthur’s grave.”

She steps forward. Then leaps— a blur in the sky, a comet of obsidian and purple.

From far away, Ryusaki narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what she just did…” He shakes his head. “She’s just a myth. The Knights weren’t that strong. It's impossible for her to overcome 250 thousand lifes.”

His voice hardens, doubt manifests.

“I’m not like you, Siegfried. I won’t be a pawn for a world that chews us up and smiles while we die. I want—”

He roars.

“FAFNIR—kill her!”

The shadow-dragon spread its wings. Thousands of dark marbles ignite in the air and shoot toward Celestia— each one a fragment of hate, fury, lifeless will.

But she’s already in motion.

Celestia tears through the sky, her speed shattering sound. The dragon opens its mouth again— this time, hundreds of laser-like beams spiral outward, faster than lightning. Too many to dodge.

She raises her scythe.

One swing.

Reality fractures.

The beams are sliced mid-air— reflected harmlessly to the charred ground below.

Ryusaki’s grip tightens. He reaches for his sword.

But she’s already behind him.

Instinctively, Ryusaki pivots right— but something’s wrong. He reaches for his blade with both hands.

Only one obeys.

His left arm falls, slowly, to the earth below.

Time freezes.

He turns— and sees her face. Calm. Focused. Unforgiving.

She lunges again— for the kill.

Her scythe arcs down, aiming for his neck. A clean execution.

But Ryusaki is ready.

He draws his sword, blocking just in time.

The blades clash.

His sword shatters.

Silence.

Ryusaki’s eyes go wide in disbelief.

“Did you… hold back this entire time?” he whispers. “Was I not even worthy of your strength?”

Then he notices— her fingers are bleeding, slick with blood where she grips the handle.

“…No.” he breathes. “It’s something else.”

He snarls.

“FAFNIR! Don’t let her breathe!”

The dragon roars again, charging another barrage.

Ryusaki’s voice is desperate. “I’ll use every last drop of lifeforce if I have to. I just need to survive… long enough. Long enough for that power to burn itself out.”

But Celestia lifts her scythe again.

Her voice is cold. Eternal.

“Death’s Edge – Cold Touch.”

She swings— and the world rips open.

Not just space.

Not just light or sound.

But a tear into another realm.

Dark. Frozen. Where reality loses its grip. Where time forgets how to flow.

From the wound, skeletal hands rise— thousands— clawing upward from the void. Grasping. Groaning.

Then— just as suddenly— the cut seals itself.

The hands vanish.

The realm retreats.

But the message is clear.

Celestia doesn’t just fight with death.

She commands it.

Ryusaki leaps, tearing through the blackened skies above Emberium as he charges at Celestia.

“I’ll heal it… and I’ll kill you!” he roars.

But then— he freezes.

A cold, invisible grip coils around his chest. Not a wound. A presence.

Celestia appears in front of him. Her black visor gleams. Her aura swirls like a storm.

Without a word, she swings her scythe with deadly precision— aiming straight for his neck.

The blade connects.

But nothing happens.

Her eyes narrow.

She kicks him back into the destroyed ground and lands with precision.

“I see.” she murmurs. “I’ll need to kill you many times.”

Ryusaki growls “Until then, your time—”

But Celestia rises, floating in the air, her gaze unwavering.

“You misunderstand.” she says. “I don’t get weaker. You expect I’ve made a deal with the devil or bound my soul to something I can’t control. But I rely on something else.”

She points her scythe at him.

“The reason I want to kill you is this: you’re not worthy of being a king. Or a leader. You’re not even worth my time.”

Her voice sharpens like a blade.

“You act like a main character. Like some chosen ruler of a tragic legend. But in this world— in the complex world of sorcery— we both have ideals. The difference is… you never stop talking.”

She swings the scythe once more. The sky screams.

“In my time.” she whispers, “we killed that arrogance.”

Ryusaki raises his blade. “I’ve made my move. I will—”

“Kill everyone?” she interrupts.

Then, without hesitation, Celestia drives her blade into her own chest, twists it, and pulls it out. Her wounds close instantly. Blood evaporates off her skin.

“You speak of killing, but do you even know what it means?” she asks.

“A true king— a real leader— kills less. He doesn’t sacrifice his people. His people sacrifice for him. They die willingly— because he’s worth it.”

Her eyes blaze with fury.

“You don’t know what it means to die for someone. Or to be killed in their name. To you… it’s just a number. An act. "An image."

Ryusaki’s composure snaps.

“YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!” he roars. “I WILL UNITE THIS WORLD! I WON’T BELIEVE IN YOUR—”

But Celestia snaps her fingers.

Skeleton hands erupt around Ryusaki, clutching, locking his limbs in place.

She swings her scythe again. The atmosphere shatters.

From the rift, a colossal skeletal hand emerges, followed by the torso of a giant undead warrior, clawing through the realms.

“I’ll submit.” she says. “If you beat me. Anything is allowed.”

Her voice lowers.

“Show me. Show me you can keep up with the old powers. That you can overcome me. But if not…”

Her visor glows— like a star collapsing.

“…then death will wait for you.”

The undead warrior speaks before the rift closes.

“Contract Sealed”

Celestia snaps her fingers again. The skeleton hands vanish.

Ryusaki trembles.

He looks up at the sky.

And screams:

“Shigo no Sekai!”

A vortex opens above. Fafnir’s form dissolves, the shadowy dragon merging with Ryusaki’s body. The falling marbles rain down upon him, absorbing into his flesh.

He begins to transform.

His body expands—four meters tall, cloaked in lightning and vengeance. His armor becomes an obsidian prison, etched with glowing purple veins. The remnants of his broken sword are absorbed into his limbs.

He emerges—a nightmare. A draconic wraith. Red eyes glowing beneath layers of scaled armor.

“I will vanquish you, Celestia.”

His arms reshape— into blades.

Celestia nods once.

Mephisto whispers from within, his voice grim.

“That’s over two hundred thousand deaths powering him, Celestia… Even with your abilities, I worry. That much death— it might consume you too.”

But it’s too late for hesitation.

Ryusaki launches skyward and descends like a meteor. His twin blades crash toward Celestia.

Her black eyes shimmer— then fade to pure white.

In an instant— she parries.

The clash splits the sky.

She kicks Ryusaki mid-air.

He flies across the horizon— through the Central District— smashing into the heart of Emberium’s grand clocktower. It shatters into dust.

In the blur of stone and metal, he feels it— something sharp in his side.

He looks down.

A hairpin is embedded in his ribs.

And then— Celestia is there.

She teleports in front of him.

And swings.

Her scythe slashes again and again, with overwhelming force. Tearing through him like lightning. Each cut, a mark of judgment.

Ryusaki is hurled toward the ground. The force of the blows levels the entire district— buildings collapse, towers explode, air pressure detonates.

Dust.

Fire.

Silence.

Ryusaki opens his eyes, dazed but alert.

Too late.

Celestia is behind him again.

He tries to parry.

“Everything—” he growls.

He swings. Their blades clash.

The blow pushes her back— but only slightly.

Celestia twists. Her scythe sings again.

The atmosphere splits.

A giant skeletal hand emerges.

It slaps Ryusaki mid-sentence, hurling him like a broken comet.

The sky is already broken.

And yet—

Celestia descends like a falling star. Her scythe crackles with divine resonance. Time stutters.

“Zeit Interferenz – Maximal.”

Reality halts.

A hundred Celestias bloom into existence— ghostly reflections in shattered mirrors. Each one strikes. Each one slashes Ryusaki mid-flight.

His body is torn in two.

The district is pulverized. Scorched stone and silence remain.

When time resumes, Celestia lands— alone— amid dust and ash.

But Ryusaki reforms from the ground.

He stands again. Flickering. Half-formed. Dust to flesh.

He touches his chest. For the first time in centuries— he feels fear.

Pure, cold fear.

He looks into Celestia’s eyes and sees only death.

“No… What are you?” he stammers. “You can’t—!”

“I’ve killed you twenty thousand times.” Celestia replies. “Only 230,000 more to go.”

Ryusaki turns to run, whispering a spell.

“Exitum Emberium—”

Nothing happens.

Celestia’s voice cuts through him like a blade. “You accepted the deal.”

Ryusaki freezes. “Don’t tell me… that skeleton before…”

Celestia snaps her fingers.

The sky turns purple.

A celestial clock forms above, enormous and glowing. Its hands tick slowly— a crimson countdown.

“Normally, this spell traps two souls.” she explains. “And judges them. The one who dealt more damage… walks away. The loser dies.”

She swings her scythe once more— the sky breaks again.

“But I don’t care for the result.”

Ryusaki stares.

She cut through the celestial timer itself— just to keep him trapped here.

Madness blooms in his eyes.

“You… you could’ve killed me before.” he says, blood dripping from his nose. “You let your friends die.”

Celestia’s gaze is cold. “I don't care. They’re willing to kill and die.”

Ryusaki staggers. The air is heavy with judgment.

“I am the thirteenth knight.” she whispers. “Knight of Death. Celestia.”

She swings.

Another rift opens in the sky.

“Gravitas – Ultimatum – Rules of Nature – Rule Break – Death’s Order.”

The earth responds.

The city turns upside down.

Chunks of buildings rise into the heavens. The earth quakes as tectonic fury unravels all.

Ryusaki’s voice trembles. “I woke up a sleeping dog. I opened… Pandora’s Box.”

There is no escape.

He braces.

Celestia raises her scythe.

“XeCaliber – Rule Break.”

She swings.

The city's ruins fire at Ryusaki like artillery. Whole towers collapsing onto him.

Ryusaki raises his blade like arms. He slashes every incoming building— cut after cut— unending. Walls, bricks, stone, steel, glass— all fall before him.

But it never ends.

Until finally— he looks up.

And sees a gigantic skeleton, looming in the clouds.

He focuses mana into his eyes. Confused.

“…What is that?” he breathes. “It’s not her magic. It’s… something else. She’s using the city’s magic as fuel. All of it.”

Celestia appears in front of him.

He blocks her incoming scythe— barely.

“Impossible—! But… I know your secret!”

Celestia responds quietly:

“Äonische Frequenz – Absolutes Null.”

Time freezes again.

And within that fraction of nothingness—

She slashes him 30,000 times.

Then time resumes.

Ryusaki staggers, body twitching from trauma his brain had only just begun to process.

Celestia stares at him, unwavering.

“In the world of mages.” she says, “Every great spell has a counter. Even this realm. Even this setup.”

She lifts her scythe again.

“Think again. Why did this escalate? What am I?”

She swings—

“Celestischer – Alptraum.”

The world shivers.

And Ryusaki sees them.

All of them.

The dead souls of Emberium rise. Young mages. Old scholars. Students of sorcery. Their spirits surround him— glowing with sorrow, with wrath.

They stare and they judge.

Ryusaki laughs— a broken and twisted sound.

“…Magnificent.” he mutters. “I’ve never… felt anything like this.”

His body shakes with manic energy.

He raises his arms, trembling.

“The Knight of Death… Celestia. The last wrath of Camelot. The myths aren’t true… they were downplaying your true strength.”

He looks up, tears in his wide eyes.

“I give up. But—”

He laughs louder now. Unhinged.

“Do you know what an entity is?”

Celestia’s voice is calm. “That knowledge— should be forbidden.”

Ryusaki grins, trembling.

“The blood of the ancients flows in me. In a world without gods… I carry what remains. So—”

Without warning— he stabs himself.

Blood bursts from his chest.

Ryusaki kills himself.

His body collapses. But his voice lingers like a curse.

“I won’t let you finish this cycle of death. I won’t give you that peace. I will drag you down with me…”

His body twitches.

“Fight against the world… Fight a god, Knight of DEATH. I will see you in hell.”

And then—

Silence.