The Desire to Win

“So you’ve finally come.”

“You... What the hell have you done!?” Medrauta’s eyes widened as she stared at the unbelievable scene before her. As much as she wanted to avert her eyes and dismiss the atrocities strewn across the room as a mere nightmare, the scent of blood hanging stagnant in the air forced her to remain in the waking world.

Mere seconds ago, Medrauta and Viviane had crossed the threshold of no return. Though they knew the ruby-encrusted door signaled the end of their journey, the two of them entered without fear, flinging it open and descending down the winding staircase that lay behind it. However, even the resolve they had mustered could not prepare them for the sight that greeted them at their final destination.

The chamber at the end of the staircase was tremendous in size, stretching both wide and far as it encompassed nearly half of the gargantuan castle’s dimensions. Though Medrauta could see no windows or openings to the surface on the room’s massive slate walls, a cool breeze still drifted through the underground chamber. Several steel chandeliers and lanterns hung from the ceilings and the numerous cylindrical pillars that lined the room, ghostly blue flames dyeing the chamber in their hue.

Made from the same material as the walls, the chamber’s floor was covered in various intricate arcane symbols, strange lines, and patterns all carved into its surface. An almost sickening sloshing of liquid could be heard echoing through the otherwise silent room, drawing Medrauta’s attention to the horror she now witnessed.

“Urp...!” Unable to hold it in any longer, Viviane stumbled backward, averting her eyes as she retched and vomited on the ground. Though she managed to withstand the savagery of war, she understood that the grotesque amalgamations of blood and corpses on the battlefield had been nothing more than inevitable consequences born from struggling ideals that could be solved by no other method than bloodshed.

Though death was a tragic affair whether it occurred on the battlefield or behind castle walls, at least there had been purpose in the deaths of those soldiers who fought out of loyalty and for a future that they strove to make reality whereas the mound of pure slaughter and desecration towering above Medrauta and Viviane right now served no discernable goal. There was no reason for such senseless violence to exist, yet it did.

The very thought sickened Medrauta to the core, to say nothing of the sight.

“I’ve simply granted them their rightful places,” Bastiche smirked as he admired his work. Slowly and deliberately, he circled the pillar of corpses that laid in the center of the room where all the strange lines converged. Blood flowed freely from the corpses and into the channels those carved lines created, creating macabre streams of crimson that somehow never ebbed. Had Bastiche simply chosen to sacrifice a handful of individuals, it might have disgusted Medrauta a little less, but the corpses piled in the chamber had all been defaced in one way or another.

The nobleman’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he continued circling the construct of corpses decorating the center of the room. Bastiche ran a hand against one of the mutilated corpses, wetting the tips of his fingers with fetid blood. An almost palpable sense of pride radiated from the nobleman as he gazed upon his horrific creation lovingly despite the mound of death representing not only the highest form of vitriol towards Aluvsha, but morality itself.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Bastiche smirked, approaching the silver-haired knight with measured steps. “Amelia promised me I’d finally gain the power I desired if I followed her... And what do you know? She delivered. Every one of these nobles played a part in disgracing Ritya, including my father. In fact, he was the first person I killed.”

“...You’re insane.” Medrauta spat, her shoulders trembling in rage. She didn’t know what exactly Bastiche’s relationship with his knight was, but she simply couldn’t imagine anyone going to such lengths merely to avenge a slight. She wanted to believe that there was at least a reason behind all this senseless slaughter and mutilation. That perhaps Amelia might’ve driven him to do such cruel acts, but no matter how hard she tried to avoid facing the truth, the fountain of blood and corpses continued to pin her to reality.

“Am I?” Bastiche paused in his steps. “I’ve merely given these fools the treatment they deserved. They flocked to me because they desired power beyond their station. They trod on Ritya’s dreams and aspirations because she was not born into a noble lineage. Every chance they received, they attempted to separate her from me, even jeopardizing her chances of entering Avalyne Academy. Though it was none of their business, these fools obsessed over maintaining the ducal family’s ‘pedigree.’ If you ask me, they’re the ones who are insane.”

“And that... gives you the right to defile their corpses?” Medrauta asked, completely flabbergasted at how Bastiche could so casually suggest that he had done all of this solely to punish the now-deceased nobles for insulting his knight. As an orphan who was inducted into the Imperial Order as a squire, Medrauta understood how much pressure and scrutiny Ritya must’ve endured while serving as Bastiche’s knight. Worse yet, Ritya’s abilities as a knight were merely average unlike Medrauta’s which allowed her to completely shatter the expectations of her greatest critics.

Even so, it went without saying that the countless atrocities Bastiche had committed in this chamber went far beyond punishment or even vengeance. His desecration of countless corpses was so wicked and vivid that even the most horrid sight on the battlefield paled in comparison to the repulsive effigies Bastiche had constructed using the remains of countless nobles.

“Of course. If they would defile Ritya’s happiness, then is it not right that I would do the same to them? They could not open their minds, so I did it for them.” Bastiche shrugged. “Quite literally, I might add.”

Medrauta drew her sword, pointing it at the smirking nobleman. In another second, she would propel herself toward him and end his life before he could speak another word. “We were sent here to investigate the truth of your statement, but it’s obvious that we no longer have to do so. This is your one chance to surrender and be given a fair trial.”

“A fair trial?” Bastiche laughed. “You mean an execution. I know very well that I am damned, Medrauta. I knew the moment I swore my loyalty to Amelia in the infirmary. She had approached us much earlier, but I always rejected her advances... It wasn’t until Ritya and I lost to you that I truly understood the depths of my powerlessness.”

Though Medrauta was about to leap forward and decapitate Bastiche, something in the nobleman’s tone forced her to hesitate. Though he had been unrepentant throughout their conversation thus far, those final words carried a ring of remorse in them, almost as if he regretted abandoning his drive to grow stronger together with his knight and surrendering it to Amelia’s machinations.

“How does it feel?” Bastiche asked in an almost pitiable voice. Medrauta had no way of telling whether the emotions the nobleman displayed now were genuine or not, but they still tugged at her heartstrings frustratingly. “How does it feel to know that you were the catalyst who condemned Ritya and I to this fate?”

“...What?” Medrauta grit her teeth in annoyance. Though she knew logically she hadn’t been responsible for Bastiche’s choice, the thought still infuriated her to no end, forcing her to wonder if things would be different had she and Viviane lost that match. “I—”

Medrauta’s words were interrupted as a column of silver light exploded from behind her, overpowering the pale blue of the lanterns and bathing the room with its bright metallic luminescence. A surge of strength flooded her body, Viviane’s Crest blazing fiercely above her head as silver armor manifested around her knight’s body, its light seemingly forcing Bastiche to back away.

“How dare you!?” Viviane thundered. “How dare you burden my knight with such wicked thoughts!? Your choice to betray everyone, to shatter the beautiful memories we shared... It was yours and yours alone!”

“V-Viviane!” Medrauta’s eyes widened in surprise at her lady’s outburst. Never before had she seen Viviane so angry or take such an aggressive stance, but now the noblewoman had even drawn her bow, aiming an arrow at Bastiche’s head. Though her hands still shook with the thought of taking a life, it was clear that Viviane had enough of whatever farce Bastiche was prattling on about.

“We’re putting an end to your crimes today, Bastiche!” Viviane declared.

That alone was enough to signal Medrauta. The silver-haired knight streaked across the chamber, closing the distance between herself and Bastiche within the span of a second. She swung her sword swiftly, its blade carving a perfect horizontal arc through the air that would divorce the nobleman’s head from his body.

CLANG!

Just before Medrauta’s sword could make contact with Bastiche’s neck, a pitch-black blade stood in its way, ringing with the force required to parry Medrauta’s Crest-enhanced strength. Despite the raw power that now coursed through Medrauta’s body, her opponent didn’t seem the least bit fazed as they shoved the silver-haired knight back.

Ritya flourished her blade, pointing it at Medrauta haughtily. She had emerged from what appeared to be a black tear in space that now closed as she fully stepped out of it. A crimson mist lifted off the black steel of her blade, and her eyes seemed to pierce straight through Medrauta. She wore red-black plate armor that covered the entirety of her body, leaving no gaps thanks to the strange flexible metal it was made of. While Medrauta’s armor bore the same properties, it was clear that Ritya’s armor was a product of dark magic and not Bastiche’s Crest.

The only part of Ritya that remained unarmored was her left hand. Free from gauntlets or bracers, Medrauta and Viviane could see the blackened material that it was made of along with the strange red lines that ran across its surface and pulsed as if it possessed a heartbeat of its own.

“I’d hoped our rematch would be in the arena, Ritya.” Medrauta said bitterly as she confronted the black-clad knight.

“As did I.” Ritya replied. “But things change. People change. I won’t lose this time, Medrauta.”

“Shame.” Medrauta narrowed her eyes as she squared off against her opponent cautiously. Even without bearing a Crest, the power that Ritya currently radiated was almost palpable. “I don’t intend to lose either.”