Chapter 222: Chapter 215: My duty?
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The world trembled.
Mountains cracked and crumbled into dust, their stone peaks reduced to re rubble as the land convulsed beneath the weight of the distant battles. Formations now tumbled, the air was thick with dust and debri.
And yet Lucinda walked forward, her stride calm, her eyes dull as she drifted through the barren expanse. She did not flinch at the quaking ground beneath her sabatons. She did not turn back to witness the obliteration of the landscape behind her.
She rely sighed.
This was, without a doubt, the most destructive Festival yet.
Her gaze lifted to the skies—where fractured heavens split open, wounds torn into existence by the sheer scale of power unleashed across. Torrents of energy and mana clashed above, this was beyond mortal warfare.
Lucinda’s expression remained unreadable.
"Goddess Octavia must have anticipated this level of ruin," she murmured to herself, voice carrying softly in the howling winds. "No wonder she chose this forsaken star as our battleground."
The thought was a bitter one. A lingering resentnt curled in her chest, she had been surprised when the Goddess herself descended to greet the contestants. Octavia— the very entity she was ant to revere, to embody, to serve without question. The Goddess’s presence had been overwhelming, suffocating in its magnitude. A divinity that existed beyond comprehension, beyond understanding—radiant, unshakable and omnipotent.
And yet, Lucinda did not feel enthralled by her.
If anything... she felt disdain.
It was childish, perhaps. Blasphemous, even. But in the presence of the deity she was ant to honor, ant to serve, she felt nothing but cold indifference—no, sothing deeper. Sothing sharper.
If anything, she might actually dislike Octavia.
It was strange. Others knelt before her na, offered prayers upon their lips, sang hymns in exultation of the divine. But Lucinda? She could not. She would not.
Because it was this sa Goddess who bestowed upon her the blessing.
A blessing, they called it. A gift unparalleled. A power sought after by kings, emperors, entire civilizations. The very foundation of her existence, the defining trait that dictated her every breath, her every action, her very purpose from the mont she had entered this world.
And because of it—because of her—Lucinda had been wrenched from the arms of her parents before she could even understand what the word "family" ant.
Not even given a na of her own.
Not even given a childhood.
Her entire life had been molded into a singular, unbreakable path—the path of a weapon.
Forged in brutality and tempered in pain.
Those who had shaped her into this existence called it duty. They said it was her responsibility as a spawn of Octavia. That the kingdom she was born into had every right to claim her as their sword and shield. That her power was not her own, but a privilege, a duty to serve and to protect.
And for the longest ti, Lucinda had believed them.
She had believed she owed sothing to this kingdom, that her strength was a debt to be repaid, a burden she was obligated to bear.
But soone had rectified that way of thinking.
"Seems you have it in your mind that you’re just good for violence. It’s true—you’re a spawn of a Goddess of war. But there’s clearly more to your life than being a tool for this kingdom."
She rembered his words so clearly. Mikoto.
He had a way of speaking that resonated with her, as if each word was a chisel breaking away at the chains she hadn’t even realized were there. Guiding her. Telling her that she was more than just a blade forged for battle. That she had a choice.
That this would be the last ti she let this kingdom make use of her. She would seize her own freedom—by force if necessary.
No more following the will of others.
No more being a pawn in their gas.
("But then...where to go from there?")
For so long, her entire existence had been defined by battle, by duty, by war. She had never truly considered a life beyond it. Could she really just—walk away?
Her fingers curled into fists.
She would try.
For him.
"Hm?"
A sudden sensation—like a sharp thread snapping in the fabric of her mind.
The telepathic link with Victoria had been severed.
Lucinda’s posture stiffened. ("Are Fiona and Victoria being attacked?")
It was a logical move—eliminate the brains of the operation, disrupt their coordination, cripple their advantage before striking.
But she had no ti to dwell on it.
The sound of distant sabaton-clad boots striking against the barren earth reached her ears. A unhurried stride.
Lucinda turned.
And there she stood.
Radiant, unbothered by the destruction that surrounded her. Her presence was like a pillar standing in this crumbling world.
Pristine golden armor, flowing golden-blonde hair fell behind her, framing a face too perfect.
And then—her eyes.
Crimson. Like Lucinda’s own.
Lucinda tensed.
She knew this woman’s na.
Rhiannon. The Ancestor of Chaos.
Lucinda understood what this woman was, a bead of sweat traced its way down her temple.
Her body tensed imdiately, her muscles locking. Her breath hitched, her instincts roaring with an invisible, primal warning that sent ice lancing down her spine. Her mind flooded with fragnted mories—Mikoto’s recounting of an Ancestor clad in gold, Agatha’s warning about a force beyond comprehension.
A being of unfathomable destruction, entropy incarnate, soone who had carved through three Inheritors as if they were re insects beneath her heel. A monster in the form of a woman.
And yet, none of that was what sent Lucinda’s body into an instinctual lockdown. No, it was sothing deeper, sothing that ca from the very marrow of her bones. A dread unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Not even Selwyn had evoked such a response. Selwyn was a storm, an insurmountable wall of dread.
But this woman—
This woman was not an insurmountable wall, she was an inevitability. A force of nature so pure in its existence that it did not simply crush what opposed it—it unmade it entirely.
"That’s quite a lovely expression." The voice ca smooth and rich.
Lucinda’s gaze snapped up, locking onto the woman who now stood before her.
Lush lips curled into a smirk, so perfectly composed, as if this entire mont had already played out in her favor.
Rhiannon stopped just short of her, not a single ounce of tension in her posture, as though the concept of resistance was nothing but an amusing afterthought.
"But so disappointing. Doubt has already crept in... and I have yet to do anything."
She hated how casually the words were spoken, like they were truths carved into the foundation of reality itself.
Lucinda frowned. Was this woman... seeking her out?
No. It was more than that.
Rhiannon wasn’t simply facing her, she was dissecting her.
Lucinda exhaled sharply, her heart steadying. Of course. It was always the sa. Always the sa with these kinds of opponents. The insurmountable ones, the ones who existed above all else.
They looked down on her. As if she wasn’t even worth the effort.
It had been the sa with Selwyn.
Lucinda had been helpless against him. Utterly insignificant.
And yet, Mikoto had been his equal.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words ca. Had she known the truth of Mikoto’s existence, would she have questioned why he stood above her so easily?
Would she have pondered why he, another spawn of Octavia, was simply more exceptional?
But no, there was a truth.
The gap between them was barely there.
The difference was composed of three factors.
The first: Application.
Mikoto’s approach to magic was not like hers. She was traditional, structured and disciplined in technique. But Mikoto? He was scientific, experintal, deconstructive, and unpredictable. It was why he had neutralized Amaury and Selwyn’s nullification.
Lucinda, however, could not.
The second: Mana quantity.
Mikoto’s mana dwarfed her own, but that wasn’t what made him superior. Mana was rely fuel, not victory itself.
The last—
The most important—
The true reason why he had surpassed her.
ntality.
Lucinda clenched her jaw.
Maybe... maybe she always knew why.
Maybe, deep down, she had always understood why she seed so insignificant in the face of monsters like these.
She had no drive to kill.
It wasn’t because of ideals. Not because of a moral code or so belief in righteousness.
No.
It was because, to her—
Killing was wrong.
Not in a grand, philosophical sense. Not in the way warriors justified war. It was wrong in the sa way it was wrong to tear out your own eye, to sever your own limb, to cut away sothing vital.
It was unnatural. It felt wrong. It felt...
Eerie. Inhumane.
Her voice finally ca. "You speak as though I’ve already given up."
And for the first ti, she steeled herself.
Victory...
It was not impossible.
But—
Would she be willing to walk down that road?
Would she be willing to step into the dark?
The road of a killer.
"Oh?"
Rhiannon’s smirk widened, her gaze laced with sothing almost... delighted. "Now there’s a look I truly enjoy."
Lucinda refused to waver.
"I have no idea why you sought
out specifically," she admitted, her mana flaring violently, whipping through the air.
Her gaze darkened.
"But I heard of you. I know of the innocents you slaughtered. The devastation you bring. I am not one to pass judgnt based on my own sense of right and wrong—"
Her voice grew colder.
"But you are cruel."
Silence.
For a mont, the world felt small.
Then—
Rhiannon’s own mana erupted, the space around her warping as though rejecting her existence.
"Then what shall you do, girl? Are you worthy enough to put a stop to ?" Her gaze glead with sothing inhuman. "I fought your precious Goddess Octavia once before." The smirk widened. "Do you think you have the strength to defy ?"
Lucinda did not hesitate.
"If need be."
This was no re enemy. No battle to be taken lightly. If her words held truth, then Lucinda had only one option.
She had to fight.
To kill.
But even now—
Could she?
"I’ll fight you."
A breath.
"Not because of duty as a spawn of Octavia."
Lucinda’s fists clenched.
"But because I want to."
Rhiannon’s expression shifted, she laughed. "Now, that is truly a worthy mindset." She exhaled, eyes flashing. "You’re as interesting as the other one."
Lucinda did not dwell on the cryptic remark.
Her body ignited with brilliance as she uttered the words.
"Arcane Ascendance, Limit Breaker: Upon my body, I accept my ascendance as the Archangel of &^*I$#!"
The world erupted into white.
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