Liberi Reader

Shells rain down on both sides of the mobile force that is moving at full speed. Smoke obscures their whereabouts, and withering artillery fire crushes the Sarkaz troops collapsing upon them.

Amidst the smoke, silent figures in white robes raise their longswords, sundering the artillery fire falling upon them.

They disappear into the plumes of smoke and dust kicked up by the explosions.

Purple flames wreathe the Duke of Wellington's entire mobile unit, and a rising pillar of flames carves out a completely safe domain on the battlefield—

A sanctuary brought by the flames of death.

The Duke who overcame death ignores the Draco's outstretched hand, his body remaining upright with the help of his cane.

Pain?

Little more than that.

'Warning, warning––'

'Damage to the hull is in excess of sixty-five percent. Navigation system offline. Propulsion system offline...'

'Activate backup power supply.'

'The engine room has been damaged, and there's a serious leakage of Originium fuel.'

'At 2:34, the Frederick was struck by three witchcraft shells simultaneously, paralyzing its propulsion system.'

'The combat zone is heavily contaminated by witchcraft. The three supporting frigates are unable to approach, and currently dispatching infantry––'

'The second defensive line has incurred a fierce assault! The 9th Battalion Armored Corps is currently holding back the Nachzehrer infantry. Lieutenant Colonel Blake and Major Mourning have been slain. Captain Seymour is currently in command.'

'The Excelsior has discovered an approaching squad of Nachzehrer casters! We've lost contact with the Intrepid, with no specific coordinates identified...'

'Duke Gododdin's three dreadnoughts are approaching full-speed to provide support. Duke Abercorn and Duke Ashworth's assault battlegroups are also responding to the call for help!'

'Originium activity is so rampant that it's off the charts! What the hell is that? Is the Originium eating our ship?!'

...

Delphine subconsciously glances over at Vina, who stands not far away with the Sighs of Kings strapped to her back.

Delphine sees the soldier's bloodshot eyes... There's determination and desire burning within them.

The battered tank hurtles towards the Sarkaz troops.

Many of the Exemplars had no idea what was going on, until they heard... the one last battle cry an ordinary soldier gave using his life.

Withered branches.

Twigs sprout from the fallen bodies of the Nachzehrer warriors, extending in every direction, burrowing back towards the fog where the scent of rot and decay is strongest.

A figure rises from the fog and quickly approaches.

Vina's plans are never complicated, and that has proven surprisingly effective on this chaotic battlefield.

Everyone in the Exemplars knows exactly what they're fighting for.

Now matter how the war forces them apart, in the end, those who survive will gather to lift the glass of victory.

They continue to charge into the tempest, to where the artillery fire converges, to where their enemies are.

Hammer smashes into bone, and sword cleaves through flesh.

Those standing shoulder-to-shoulder are getting heavier injuries, yet they no longer bother to wipe the blood from their faces.

They continue pressing forward. No matter how perilous, they never stop.

The Gloriana is right there in front of them, and Vina can already hear the roar of battle coming from above.

'(Indistinct Sarkaz language) You shall...'

'(Indistinct Sarkaz language) ...not pass.'

'Vina!'

'The Sighs of Kings! The Sighs of Kings has been knocked flying! After it––'

'(Indistinct Sarkaz language) Death...'

'(Indistinct Sarkaz language) ...the final end'

'Damnit! Vina, stand up!'

'Help her! Bagpipe, cover my back! I need to reload!'

'I can block their blades! Bloody hell, why can't I run any faster?!'

'Vina!!!'

'Victoria...'

'Victoria!'

'Victoria!!'

Vina could never forget that voice, even if she can on longer make out all the information it contains.

But, her intuition tells her... that it is a name. A name that is associated with her entire life.

Slash. Pierce. Charge.

The suit of armor fights valiantly, and ferociously.

The path behind him is soon littered with Sarkaz corpses and the fragments of shattered altars.

Witchcraft missiles fall at his feet, crossbow bolts fly towards him, blades slash at his body.

But, he never stops. He cleaves apart the next enemy, sweeping them away, along with any traces they left on him.

She clenches the hammer in her hands, shrugging off all doubt and hesitation.

She has placed her trust not just in her partners, but also in people who she had never trusted before... No, she placed her trust in all of Victoria.

The Victoria she believes in.

Run. Faster. Almost there...

A ray of green light cuts through the dense fog of decay.

Deep within the storm, the Stone of the Sword radiates with light.

A silver light streaks across the battlefield, piercing through the fog.

The Sighs of Kings. A blade so common that it does not attract the attention of soldiers on either side of the battlefield––

The storm rises from the battlefield, but the White Wolf has already leapt up.

Aim, fire. A procedure she knows by heart.

The longsword left her hand, cutting through the air as countless eyes followed its path.

Vina never looks back. She simply continues running, carefully listening to every last sound.

Swoosh.

The sound of metal vibrating through the air. The sound of air being cut apart by a sharp object.

She forcefully throws down the hammer in her hands. Its massive head lodges into the cliffside, creating a tiny foothold for her.

She steps on it, and leaps. And when she extends her hand, the Sighs of Kings has already found its way into her palm.

The Originium beneath her feet feel like alive, unlike any wall or mountain she's ever traversed before.

How much farther?

How much longer will it be until the dark clouds disperse, and the war draws its last breath?

She fled Londinium to the land beyond its walls; then from there, she returned. How much farther must she go... before she returns to her peaceful homeland, and to the people she loves?

Vina does not know. But at least, the Stone of the Sword is right before her eyes. She extricates her hammer with all her might.

She knows what she must do.

She leaps up, hammer and sword held high in her hands, glimmering in the sunlight.