Eleven Years Later

April 13th, 2260, 5:00 AM

The sound of steel meeting steel hung through the air as the butlers charged, each performing joint attacks that began to overwhelm an unknown figure, leaping about as if she was in a ballet through their attacks, without a single one connecting.

“Enough of this! Stop showing off and fight back!” decreed the head butler, wasting no time in pursuing their opponent, sword clutched at the hilt, “Cut her off, men! We have this!”

Their opponent, now identified as a woman, smirked and even gave a playful chuckle as she beckoned them to approach with her hand, exposing her steel-armed gauntlets.

“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account, lovelies.”

“Do not call me that!” The head butler was right in front of her, swinging down with clear precision and more than a hint of mild frustration. The others followed suit, again swinging at her from all angles, but the woman gracefully parried every sword strike with a swing of her claws. The men all suddenly blushed light red, their mustaches practically tingling in their rage. The idea of this just being one girl and yet they couldn’t land a blow on her was enough to make a sane man foil under the weight of their pride. Following the head butler’s directed assault, thrusting his sword with repeated fervor, eventually they chipped away at the woman's cloak, exposing her - as well as her jet-black wings - to the light of day.

“Ugh! I told you before - don’t scarf the cloak! That was my favorite!”

“!! Oh, um, I’m terribly sorry, my lady-”

The butler hardly had time to even finish his sentence before the woman’s metal fist clashed with his cheek, knocking him through the stadium walls. Her pale skin gleamed in Yamo’s dim moonlight, her features sharpened with the thrust of her fist, and her red eyes radiated a cold, authoritative intensity with the effort of that right hook. Long, flowing silver hair reached past her shoulders.

Immediately, in the spitting image of Queen Leeuw herself, she ripped away the cloak obscuring her form. Dressed in elaborate purple armor with silver highlights and intricate patterns, she wore this ornate crown-like headpiece with golden elements, a central green gem, and two upward-curving black horn-like decorations. The chest, knees, shins, and shoulders were all covered with a metallic violet plate adorned with green gemstones, gold star-shaped accents, and elaborate silver detailing - she was nothing short of a bona fide fighter; “she” looked like a demon from hell (I would know). Yet ironically, her expression showed nothing but child-like playfulness.

“Hmph, now we’re even,” she said. The young princess flipped her hair, with a clear snobbish confidence about her, but they’re all just haters, whoever thinks that. Who was this illustrious beauty? Me, of course.

“Queen Lilim Archangel the 3rd! We said no fisticuffs!” yelled one of the associate butlers, “We told you before, young lady: ‘No fisticuffs this time!’

“Yeaaahhh, you also said ‘Expect the unexpected in a firefight.’ I’m just leading by example, mister. You wanna come for the queen? Better stand against the fiend,” and no sooner after speaking those words did the butler’s notice my arm to the heavens, holding in my palm a swirling azure sphere of dim light fire, “Speaking of which, I'm afraid I'm late for a previous engagement now, soooo yeah I’m gonna have to shoot you now. Don’t hate me!” I pleaded. “HADOFACTO!!” The butlers all screamed and panicked, and in seconds, were blasted out the open colosseum, and into the stratosphere. “Uhhhhh oopsie, maybe I overdid that last blast…Ehhhhh, I-I’m gonna get an earful about it later. But for now, I gotta jet!”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

April 13th, 2260, 6:27 AM

Time flies, huh? Eleven years passed after such an eventful childhood. Naturally, I’ve turned 19 years old since then; at least that's how humans count it, and I do too, so there. But more importantly, a lot has changed since then. For one, just speaking personally, I’ve made habits of self-improvement, such as studying this world’s history, politics, and general makeup. I’ve got a better idea of how deep the 50% split in the world happened, and how, as time passed, more and more third parties tried to capitalize on both Epherus and Yamo in their fallen states, only to lose every time to each nation’s respective “champions:” for Epherus, that was someone called the Valkyrie Hero, and for Yamo, it was Enoch, as much as it hurts to give him props like this; it’s true though. Moreover, courtesy of the butlers, I’ve been trained to fight, pushed to elegant perfection; I'm perfect, just not elegant. But I almost swore off using swords entirely; it reminds me too much of holding Ruby Garnet as a little girl, and anytime I try to wield them, I get panic attacks…so it’s best I fight some other way. Moving on, my wingspan grew over the years, and my maximum flight speed clocks in at Mach 16.2 now, so that was nice.

I had my official coronation back when I first turned 16; the royal council I had was more or less to make sure the kingdom functioned 'til I was of age, since an 8-year-old running a kingdom would have just led to stuff like musical numbers and so on. Hey, your girl loves singing, and anyone who says ‘Oh, you can’t sing’ can eat it!

A few other things changed in the past decade or so: I suddenly stopped seeing Yuto from across the fence. The closest thing I had to a childhood friend, gone without even saying goodbye. The political landscape shifted in Yamo due to Enoch’s death, causing a power vacuum; the head butlers could never find the exact source, but I’ve heard talk that because of this, our ties with key allies like the Honokkaku and Oathbroken Paladins were severed. But easily the most scuffed part of these changes is the main conflict between Yamo and Epherus - the war beneath the Chained Alliance. We’ve been losing our grip on what control we did have over Yamo recently, and now that their champion has grown up herself, she intends to strike at the heart: Archfiend itself. For obvious reasons, I can’t let that happen. But I don’t know what to do…

I pondered it after slowly guiding my steps over the cobblestone pathway, passing numerous tombstones from ancient to new - some were soldiers slain in the war, while others might have been prisoners Enoch killed for ‘getting too close.’ But I kept my eyes faced forward; I wasn’t here to visit soldiers or anybody else. I just had one person on my mind, and finally I found their shrine - I found her picture - and lowered myself to my knees, clasping my hands together; it was just me, her, and the small garden of fire-red carnations surrounding us.

“Momma. It’s me again,” I said, with a voice soft like cotton, “Happy birthday.”

I sat in prayer for what seemed like hours, reflecting over all that got me here; momma’s sword being the first weapon I used to kill, but also to protect. She and I having similar senses of humor, and the nights I lay awake in tears, crying for her to come back and hug me one more time…I reflected on it all; I prayed over it all. And I hope that, if there is a God, that he did what my parents say he’ll always do - he saved her soul from hell…