The Future We Sought

She couldn’t do anything.

Despite finally overcoming her greatest hurdles and even managing to mark the witch with her arrow, Viviane could do nothing to save the person she loved the most. All she could do was watch helplessly as Medrauta heroically leapt in front of her.

N-No...! Viviane’s eyes moistened as she stared uselessly at her knight’s back. She wanted to move, to scream, to push Medrauta out of the way. To do anything. Even if she would disgrace her knight’s final sacrifice, she would gladly throw away her life just so Medrauta could live.

But she couldn’t.

Time had slowed to a crawl for Viviane, as though the punishment for her inadequacy was to witness this scene for an eternity, pinned painfully in place as she could do nothing but watch while the pitch-black lance inched closer and closer toward Medrauta until it finally impaled her valiant chest.

It had been like this every time since the start. Whenever there was danger, Medrauta had been there to shield her. From the bullying which led to their match against Bastiche to the horrific wounds she’d suffered during their first match with the princess, Medrauta had always recklessly thrown herself in front of Viviane. Even their first meeting under that tree had begun with Medrauta protecting her.

Originally, Viviane hadn’t thought much of it. Though Medrauta was indeed dear to her, it was nevertheless the job of a knight to protect their lady, and the deep magic vested in the arena grounds would save her from death.

It was only after the gruesome injuries that Medrauta had suffered under the heat of Gwenhwyfar’s greatest attack that Viviane understood the absurdity of normalizing the wounds that Medrauta suffered after a match and truly began to worry for her knight’s seemingly reckless approach when it came to shielding her.

Even so, her worries had been technically unfounded. The arena’s deep magic had prevented Medrauta from dying regardless of how she chose to protect Viviane, and even if she suffered grievous wounds, there would normally be no real danger to her life.

While the facilities within Avalyne Academy’s infirmary were not as advanced as those in the imperial academy, Lady Ysolte’s presence more than made up for that. As the noble who possessed the greatest healing Crest in all the empire, there was none who could match her prowess when it came to defying death.

But they were not in the arena now, and Lady Ysolte was not here.

It was just Medrauta, the witch, that accursed black lance, and Viviane.

Ever-useless Viviane.

I thought I’d become strong... I thought I could finally stand next to her... That I could protect her...! Viviane’s mind was filled solely with despair and regret, unable to act while the lance drew ever closer to Medrauta’s chest. Even if she could move, there was nothing she could do. The lance was mere inches away from her knight, and even if she enhanced her limbs, she could not hope to move fast enough.

Is this the price of my arrogance...? Viviane thought as she hopelessly tried to reach out and grasp her knight’s empty left hand. Despite the gravity of the situation, Medrauta still hadn’t released her sword. Instead, the knight clung to it fiercer than ever as if she expected to survive this mortal blow and continue fighting for the sake of her lady.

Viviane’s heart ached from the mere sight alone, and at once, she understood the meaning of her knight’s desperate hold on the weapon. Even in Medrauta’s last moments, the proud knight sought to declare that she would continue fighting for her lady even after she breathed her last.

Yet, even when presented with Medrauta’s determination, Viviane could do nothing but wallow in despair until Medrauta’s final breath.

...Her final breath? Viviane couldn’t believe what she was thinking. Just this week, she had finally gathered the courage to confess her feelings to Medrauta and they had begun dating in earnest at last. Yet here she was, ready to let go of her beloved knight so quickly.

Am I really that weak...? Am I just going to let her go again now that she’s finally beside me again after so long!? Viviane grit her teeth. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she couldn’t help but be frustrated at herself in this dilated time and space that only she knew.

It wasn’t her incompetence or inadequacy that she despised, but the weakness of her spirit. She had vowed to become someone strong and worthy enough to stand next to Medrauta, yet here she was, giving up while her knight still drew breath.

In another second, that spear would pierce through Medrauta’s chest and she would perish, content that she had saved her beloved lady. But even so, there was still a second to spare, and so long as that second existed, there was still a chance to save Medrauta no matter how slim.

She cursed herself for her foolishness and her willingness to give Medrauta up so easily. Never again would she allow that to happen. Even the very thought of allowing Medrauta to resign herself to a fate of death had caused Viviane to lose the right to call Medrauta her beloved.

I’m sorry, Medrauta... Viviane blinked, clearing the tears from her eyes. That had been the first and last time she would ever allow herself to give up on the knight that she loved so much. The right to stand next to you... The right to hold your hand and tell you that I love you... And your life... I’ll get it back. I’ll get it all back this instant!

In that very moment, all of the regret and despair within Viviane transformed into pure determination. She knew she couldn’t move. She knew that this temporal dilation she was experiencing was due to nothing more than stress and that it would be over in a mere moment.

And so what? Viviane’s grimace of frustration turned into a fierce snarl of determination as her golden eyes bore into Medrauta’s back, refusing to release her knight to the cold embrace of death. So what if I can’t move? So what if I’m weak? None of it matters!

At last, she had found the answer to an age-old question.

At their core, knights were nothing more than swords. Their sole objective was to earn victories for their liege, and the tenets of chivalry and honor they bound themselves with were nothing more than fanciful vestments made to obscure that fact from the masses.

But what was a noble in that case? They did not swing the sword, nor did they shield it from harm.

The answer had eluded scholars for ages, but Viviane found her own in this very moment. If chivalry and honor were no more than empty decorations, then she would fill the role of Medrauta’s armor.

The armor that shields her, caresses her, and guards her heart.

The emotions and memories that raced through Viviane’s being all condensed into an uncontrollable strength that welled up from deep within her. Even if she had struggled to suppress it, the power that her emotions and resolve had given birth to would not be contained.

...What is it that I want most? Viviane allowed the mysterious power to course through her body as she prepared to direct it to her wishes. Do I even need to think? I want Medrauta to live... Not for myself, not even for herself... But for the future she wished for us to spend together!

“Medrauta!” Viviane shouted, her normally gentle voice taking on an imposing tone as she gave release to the newfound strength bursting forth from the very core of her being. “I command you to live!”

The pitch-black lance touched Medrauta’s breastplate.

Viviane’s command shook the heavens.

A silver light burst forth from Viviane’s position, her Crest manifesting in all its glory as its radiance formed into a pillar that pierced through the sky and beyond.

While her Crest once took on the form of twin chains, one of those chains had now been unshackled, and in its place was a brilliant shield of pure silver that drove away all darkness.

But even in the face of that radiant display of beauty, there existed something far more captivating on this battlefield that was once filled with naught but despair.

The black lance stalled against Medrauta’s chestplate, stopped by a shimmering silver light that suffused the entirety of her body. It struggled desperately against that magnificent argent radiance, only to be swallowed up by the light that it ground itself against.

Medrauta landed on her feet with a soft thud, her body clad in an immaculate suit of plate armor formed from the silver light that flowed incessantly from her as if she were a silver sun. While she had eschewed plate armor for the sake of mobility, the plate that she donned now was weightless and filled her with an indescribable strength that suffused the entirety of her body.

She turned, facing Viviane’s tearful visage with a playful smirk despite only having narrowly avoided death.

“If you’re gonna give me such unreasonable commands, I’d rather you do it while we’re alone in the bedroom.”