Chapter 28: A Drop of Blood

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My vision swims. I know. I've known all along. But I've been too weak to take action—a disgrace as a Champion of Pst. Bronicus, as I'm sure Lord Hubert would say. He would have plotted to dispose of Sir Isaac once he knew of the truth—that my former mentor is now a vessel for Diomedes.

Then again, I'm glad that I still preserve a shred of my own self. The shred that still values human lives. Or more specifically, human lives which are dear to me.

Sir Isaac—no, the monster wearing Sir Isaac's face spreads his lips into a slow grin. "Diomedes has indeed chosen his vessel well," he says, unflinching despite the fact that Miraterciel is millimetres away from ripping his throat out. The blade screams, a war cry coursing through my veins. It's all I can do to hold it back; it seems to have a mind of its own.

"How?" I whisper. Not a question, but more of a protest in disbelief.

"The wound this stupid knight had taken two years ago." The monster's grin grows wider. More frightening. I remind myself to stand my ground, to not show fear in front of Death itself, for Death is what this creature promises in its eyes. "Didn't any of your beloved Galenni find anything suspicious about his wounds healing so quickly?"

Of course. I remember the Galennus-in-charge informing me of his rapidly disappearing wound. However, since nothing out of the ordinary was detected, the incident had been dismissed.

What a mistake.

"Why now?" I fight the tears in my voice. This is my fault—all my fault. If only I had acted sooner, if only I had paid heed to Sir Isaac's wound two years ago—now it's too late. "Why!"

"The witch has arrived." The monster inhabiting Sir Isaac's body laughs. "Blame her if you must."

Miraterciel trembles in my hand, its obsidian blade reflecting the engulfing flames. They're spreading so fast—the heat clings onto me like a second skin. I should get out of here, leave this fight for another day. But my nerves scream at me, keeping me in place. This is all your fault, they say. You settle this here and now.

"This has nothing to do with Maya," I snarl. "You concocted this. You planned the destruction of the village. Not her."

"But I only moved when my master told me she had arrived in our continent. So isn't it her fault?"

My anger towards the monster wavers. Miraterciel's wail reduces into a sob.

"She was the one who incited this." The monster gestures all about him. I take my eyes away from him for a split second. The chaos sinks into my mind: red and gold swimming in my vision, houses reduced into charcoal, the unlucky few who hadn't managed to escape charred on the streets. "It is she who called for the continuation of the Song of Prophecy."

Abner pushes against my mind warningly. But it isn't necessary for his assistance this time. I steel myself. "Excuses," I say coldly, pressing the athame against his throat.

The monster blinks, confused. "Excuses, you say?"

"I forgot. You've inherited my former trainer's deafness as well," I say. "I shall repeat myself: Excuses."

His eyes narrow. "You would forgive her so easily? She who is a taint on your sacred land? She who led this vessel to his doom?"

I swallow a cry of despair. Sir Isaac is completely gone now. But I can't afford to lose myself and wallow in misery now. Sir Isaac himself would shriek at me for that. I've wasted years of my life to watch you get reduced into a sobbing child in the face of adversity? I can imagine him yelling at me. What a disgrace of a student I have!

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