A Familiar Face

Blood dripped incessantly from Medrauta’s sword, forming a small puddle below its point.

The three enemy knights stood before her, panting violently. Though their pact with the witch had granted them nigh-immortal bodies, it did nothing to enhance their stamina.

“I estimate around five more minutes until your nobles reach our position,” Medrauta remarked rather casually, flicking her blade and splattering blood in a crimson arc on the dirt before her. “I’m fairly certain I know how your so-called ‘immortality’ works, so if I were you, I’d start retreating right about now.”

Unlike the three knights before her, the silver-haired knight wasn’t exhausted in the least. In fact, she seemed almost bored with her opponents.

It was surreal. Every injury that they suffered quickly regenerated. Even if Medrauta dismembered them or pierced their vital organs, they would quickly grow back within seconds. The battle had been an incredibly gruesome sight, but Viviane couldn’t avert her eyes.

After all, Medrauta’s movements were so graceful and riveting as she weaved in and out of the fight without pause, taking down the enemy knights as soon as they regenerated and preventing them from ever taking advantage of their faux-immortality.

It’s cliche, but it’s almost like she’s dancing... Viviane thought as she continued to be mesmerized by Medrauta swatting her opponents away with ease.

“H-How...?” One of the knights finally asked as the tip of her sword fell, digging into the dirt. Though her legs shook with fatigue and her breath came heavy, Medrauta made no move to take advantage of her weakness.

“Hm?” The silver-haired knight raised an eyebrow, resting her sword on her shoulder as she sensed a lull in the battle. It was clear her opponents needed this moment to rest, and though it was theoretically disadvantageous for her to let them, Medrauta permitted it nonetheless.

“How are you still beating us!?” The knight cried desperately, her dark violet hair almost invisible against the darkness that blanketed their surroundings. “W-We can’t die no matter what injuries we sustain... It’s three on one... But we’re still losing...! How!?”

Medrauta blinked. For a second, she was stunned speechless, unable to comprehend why her opponent couldn’t answer such a simple question. Then, she raised her head and laughed, the sound echoing loudly into the night.

“Don’t kid yourself, Trianna.” Medrauta spat. “So what if you won’t die even if I cut off your limbs and stab you in the heart? So what if there’s three of you?” She shook her head, letting her blade fall from her shoulder and into her ready position.

In response, the three knights tensed, retreating from the pressure that Medrauta exuded with that mere movement.

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t die. It doesn’t matter if there’s three of you or three hundred of you.” Medrauta declared. “Your first mistake was thinking that this pseudo-immortality of yours made you strong. It doesn’t. Fools of your caliber wouldn’t be able to touch me even after a thousand years.”

“G-Graaah!” One of the knights, Duncan, leapt forward in anger. “How dare you...! We’ve sacrificed so much, and you still look down on us!?”

His sword swung swiftly at Medrauta’s head, but the silver-haired knight had seen the blow coming even before Duncan began his swing. She flicked her wrist once, knocking his sword aside before thrusting the point of her own blade into Duncan’s shoulder.

“Ghk!”

“The only one looking down on you is yourself, Duncan. You sacrificed your honor and dignity merely for a trifle like this instead of honing your skills. Do not place the blame on me. Now lay down your arms and renounce your pact. There’s still so much more you could’ve done to grow stronger.”

“...A trifle...? ...Grow stronger!? You don’t understand a thing!” Duncan’s shoulders quaked with anger. His face contorted into a mess of rage as he charged at Medrauta once more, throwing away all concern for his own safety. No matter what, he would land a blow on the knight who had dared insult him so greatly. “There is no place for honor or dignity in th—”

Whatever Duncan was about to say went unfinished.

She’d given him more than enough chances. Medrauta’s blade lodged itself in his throat before he could even come anywhere close to her. With a twist, she divorced Duncan’s head from his body, eliciting a nauseating pop! that quickly faded into the night along with Duncan’s life.

The knight’s headless body slid off Medrauta’s sword and collapsed onto the ground, twitching slightly before laying still at last. With a flick, Medrauta dislodged the ribbons of flesh from her blade and turned to the two remaining knights who stared at Medrauta with abject horror.

“N-No... I-It can’t... This can’t... She promised... She promised we wouldn’t die no matter what...” Trianna babbled as the knight beside her collapsed on the ground, a dark stain slowly growing on their pants.

“It’s not too late, Trianna. For you, at least. Your regeneration seemed weaker than the others,” Medrauta said, offering a hand to Trianna. “If you properly renounce the pact now, there’s still a chance that we can pretend this never happened.”

“...R-Really?” Trianna stared at the silver-haired knight, a twinge of hope gasping for breath in the sea of disbelief that muddied her eyes. There was no reason for her to believe Medrauta, especially after they’d tried to attack and kill her, but for some reason, she felt as though she could believe in the woman they were fighting only moments ago.

Medrauta nodded, meeting Trianna’s eyes. She was serious, after all. Although she had so casually slain Duncan, she still thought it a shame. The country was in dire need of knights more than ever, and the loss of even one was crippling. ...It’s not as if I could’ve done anything to prevent it. Even if he chose to listen to reason, it was too late to reverse that curse on him...

In contrast, Trianna and the other knight seemed to have only recently sworn their pact to the witch, meaning that it was still possible for them to break it by renouncing it and praying to Aluvsha at Vargos’ cathedral altar. Of course, she wasn’t planning on speaking of tonight’s events to anyone other than Dame Eirlys either.

After all, there would be no point in sparing them now if she did. Using dark magic and swearing a pact with a witch was punishable only by execution. With any luck, Medrauta would be able to send them on their way to Vargos and there they’d cast off the dark pact that chained their souls.

Not that I’d actually be able to keep an eye on them after I spare them... It was a passing thought, but Medrauta quickly shook it away. She’d have time to worry about that later once she’d properly secured Trianna’s promise to renounce the pact. She had never really been close with the violet-haired knight, but they’d been classmates and had even sparred together once or twice.

There simply wasn’t a world where Medrauta could coldly execute her when she wasn’t a lost cause like Duncan.

Trianna reached out hesitantly, but just as it looked as though she were about to take Medrauta’s hand, the bushes from behind them rustled loudly. Three nobles emerged from the foliage, one of them shrieking and fainting at the sight of Duncan’s headless corpse.

“Trianna! Don’t worry, we’re here now! Come hither and billow, effulgent ga—”

The noble was interrupted before he could even finish bestowing his Crest. A heavy, black-shafted arrow had driven itself straight into the center of his head, and split his skull open, causing it to explode into a fountain of blood and gray matter.

Though Medrauta was largely desensitized to the sight of gore, even she winced at the unceremonious display of violence. However, it wasn’t the grotesque scene she was forced to witness that had caused her heart to stop for a second.

Only a knight could’ve shot an arrow with such speed and power. A knight... Or Viviane... The moment Medrauta realized that there was only one possibility, she recalled the time when she had first taken a life. Of course, the adrenaline in her veins made her feel nothing, and her need to protect Gwenhwyfar had overruled common logic at the time.

But when that adrenaline expired, she had been overcome by a horrible sensation of guilt and disgust that almost made her retch.

I can’t... I can’t let Viviane suffer that by herself! Medrauta whirled around, ignoring the fact that there were still two armed knights and a noble who could turn on her at any second. Her eyes were wild with worry and guilt, fearing that she had made her beloved lady dirty her hands.

“Vivi—” Medrauta stopped, her mouth hanging agape in disbelief. It shouldn’t have been possible. There was absolutely no reason for that person to be here, yet there they were, standing next to Viviane with their head held high and a smirk on their face.

In contrast to Medrauta’s almost relieved shock, Viviane stared at the person who was standing next to her. It was clear that Medrauta recognized them, but the noblewoman was utterly confused by their sudden appearance and why they’d even stepped in to help.

“Relax, Medrauta. Your lady’s dainty little hands are clean.”