Arlecchino returned to Snezhnaya, where she needed to inform the Tsaritsa of Focalors' stance.
"The will of the Hydro Archon is now clear to me," said the Tsaritsa.
In the frozen halls of Snezhnaya's palace, the Tsaritsa was seated on her throne of ice, her voice devoid of any emotion, as cold and indifferent as the frost itself.
"Your Majesty, does this mean the Fatui will launch a war against Fontaine?" Arlecchino asked.
"Yes. The four Gnosis must be secured at all costs," the Tsaritsa replied.
"During the previous incident with the House of the Hearth, you fell into the Hydro Archo's trap, resulting in the complete expulsion of the Fatui from Fontaine. To protect the children, you took full responsibility for the failure."
"I did not punish you then. For this coming war against Fontaine, you shall take command as a chance to redeem yourself."
After the Tsaritsa's decree, silence filled the air. Arlecchino sank into a long, conflicted silence.
The Tsaritsa remained quiet, allowing her subordinate to wrestle with her inner turmoil.
After what seemed like an eternity, Arlecchino finally spoke: "Your Majesty, I request to resign from my position as the 'Knave' and leave the Fatui."
"I love those children. Now that they are living happily in Fontaine, I cannot bring myself to be the one who destroys their home."
The words hung in the freezing air. On her throne, the Tsaritsa slowly opened her eyes.
"If your only desire is not to harm them, you could simply request to abstain from this campaign. But since you seek to leave altogether, you must have other motives," the Tsaritsa observed.
"Yes," Arlecchino admitted with calm resolve. "I want to leave the Fatui, go to Fontaine, and protect them. It is my responsibility as their father."
The Tsaritsa's gaze pierced her. "Even though there is no longer a place for you in that home?"
"Yes," Arlecchino replied, her eyes unwavering. "Even if there is no place for me."
The temperature in the grand hall plummeted further. The chill became biting, oppressive, but the silence emanating from the Tsaritsa was far more terrifying than the cold.
Arlecchino stood firm, her determination evident in every fiber of her being.
And just as the frost seemed poised to reach its absolute peak, the storm suddenly subsided.
"Congratulations, Arlecchino."
Startled, Arlecchino turned to the Tsaritsa.
Though the Tsaritsa's expression remained unchanged, Arlecchino could feel an unmistakable warmth radiating from her—a rare, almost maternal affection.
"When you became an Harbinger, I told each of you this: I permit you to seek your own purpose. When the time comes, your freedom may take precedence over my orders."
"Until now, you were like one lost in a snowstorm, unsure of your direction."
"Now that you have found what you wish to pursue, Arlecchino, I am happy for you," the Tsaritsa said.
"I accept your request to leave the Fatui. From this moment, you are no longer one of the Fatui, nor do you belong to Snezhnaya. However—"
Her tone shifted abruptly, growing icy and commanding.
"You must still take responsibility for the failure of the House of the Hearth in Fontaine. That is your price to pay. Moreover, you are now an enemy of Snezhnaya."
Arlecchino understood exactly what the Tsaritsa meant.
Though she was no longer a part of the Fatui, the failure of the House of the Hearth operation in Fontaine occurred under her leadership. To protect the children, she had willingly taken full responsibility. The Tsaritsa had initially intended for her to atone by leading the war against Fontaine, but her resignation had forfeited that opportunity. Thus, the burden of accountability still remained.
Arlecchino was a woman of principle. She had accepted responsibility to protect the children, and since the Fatui had spared them, she would bear the consequences. This was her price to pay.
The Tsaritsa, too, was bound by her own principles.
When Arlecchino declared she had found her own purpose, the god's benevolent side allowed her to feel joy for her former subordinate. Yet, upon hearing Arlecchino's intention to leave the Fatui, side with Fontaine, and protect it from Snezhnaya, the Tsaritsa's view shifted. To her, Arlecchino was now a foe of Snezhnaya.
Thus, making Arlecchino pay the price for her actions was a display of the Tsaritsa's divine authority. It wasn't about right or wrong; both were simply adhering to their own ideals and principles.
"Thank you for your mercy," Arlecchino said, standing beneath the throne. She removed the Delusion bestowed upon her as a Harbinger.
"The price is mine to bear. The moment I decided to leave the Fatui, I had already prepared myself for this."
In the game's lore, Arlecchino once said this about the Tsaritsa: "She is a compassionate god. But if the day ever comes when I must stand against her, I would not hesitate to raise my blade. That would be my highest form of respect."
And now—
Arlecchino placed the Delusion on the ground before her.
"I, Peruere, hereby renounce the title of 'Knave,' my position as an Harbinger, and the name Arlecchino."
She reached out her hand, summoning her crimson scythe into her grasp.
Holding the massive weapon, she pointed its blade directly at the god on the icy throne.
"Thank you for your compassion. With this, I offer you my highest respect!"
The Delusions were the symbol of authority bestowed upon the Fatui Harbingers by the Tsaritsa, and the name "Arlecchino" had been granted to her when she became a Harbinger.
Now, she had removed her Delusion and cast aside the name of Arlecchino.
"With this, I offer you my highest respect!"
Clutching her scythe, she pointed it directly at the god on the icy throne.
Now declared an enemy of Snezhnaya, there was only one thing left to do: fight!
She was a warrior, and her gratitude for the Tsaritsa's mercy and benevolence could only be expressed by giving her all in battle. That, in her eyes, was the ultimate form of respect.
Without holding back, she immediately activated her third phase. Crimson mist and radiant light enveloped her form as she launched herself into the air, scythe raised high. Like a crimson moon crashing to the earth, she brought it down on the god on the throne.
Peruere possessed a Pyro Vision, so even without the Delusion, she was able to wield elemental attacks. Her strike ignited an explosion of flames, engulfing the throne in fiery light.
But such an attack could hardly disturb the solid frost.
With a single thought, the Tsaritsa summoned a shield of unyielding ice, deflecting Peruere's strike. Another thought conjured a barrage of icy spikes that shot through the flames, hurtling towards Peruere's face.
Her expression shifted as she leapt backward, swinging her scythe in rapid arcs to shatter the incoming projectiles. Then, pressing her hand forward, she unleashed a massive column of fire toward the Tsaritsa. In response, the god summoned an even larger icicle to intercept the assault.
Fire met ice in a cataclysmic clash, unleashing an explosion that reverberated through the palace. Shards of ice and bursts of flame scattered in all directions, reducing the once-majestic palace to ruins.
The Tsaritsa's power spread, cloaking the entirety of Snezhnaya in a blizzard. The temperature plummeted, dropping to a staggering -200 degrees Celsius.
What does this mean?
At -70 degrees, even inhaling could cause a searing pain in your throat. At -200 degrees, cellular metabolism halts entirely, leading to death. Frozen bodies could shatter with the slightest touch.
In other words, the Tsaritsa had created a domain where ordinary lifeforms would inevitably perish.
Surviving in such an extreme environment required immense energy just to maintain body heat—explaining why one feels hungrier during winter. Even with her enhanced constitution, Peruere's stamina was rapidly depleting in this frigid battlefield.
Furthermore, the extreme cold suppressed the activity of Pyro energy within the domain, drastically weakening Peruere's attacks.
The Tsaritsa's domain imposed severe limitations on her opponent: doubled stamina consumption and diminished attack potency. Yet, even with these handicaps, Peruere's fighting spirit burned bright. She wielded her scythe relentlessly, launching attack after attack against the Tsaritsa.
Seventy-four minutes later.
The once-glorious palace of Snezhnaya lay in ruins, reduced to rubble. The battle between Peruere and the Tsaritsa had wrought devastation across several kilometers.
Yet, by what seemed like the Tsaritsa's directive, none of the Harbingers intervened. Their sole duty was to evacuate the surrounding populace.
Boom!
A deafening crash echoed in the skies as a colossal icicle, shattered by Peruere, fragmented into a hailstorm of frozen debris.
Above, the crimson moon—a symbol of Peruere's unleashed power—flickered before fading from sight.
She fell from the sky, slamming into the snowy wasteland below with a heavy thud.
"Urgh—"
The blood-red wings behind her vanished as Peruere reverted from her third phase to her normal state.
She knelt on one knee, breathing heavily.
Seventy-four minutes.
She had exhausted every ounce of her strength, battling the Cryo Archon for seventy-four minutes.
To have fought the Cryo Archon for so long was a feat in itself, an accomplishment that anyone else would have considered a source of immense pride.
Her power was undeniable, but this result was not what she had desired.
What she sought was to leave this place and pursue that distant home.
It may seem contradictory.
If she wanted to leave, why didn't she give her all to escape instead of staying to fight the Cryo Archon?
Didn't she realize she couldn't win? Of course, she knew.
The Cryo Archon had shown her kindness, and Peruere had chosen to bear responsibility to protect the children of the Hearth.
Now that the children were safe, having resigned from her position as a Harbinger and refused to redeem herself through service, she knew she had to pay an equivalent price.
A full-on battle with the Cryo Archon was her way of showing respect.
Dying here, offering her life to settle the debt for protecting the children of the Hearth, was part of her calculation.
She had long prepared herself to die in this place. Still, she held onto a faint hope that she might survive, escape, and find that home in Fontaine.
This contradiction was her truth.
Now, her body was heavily injured, with large swathes of muscle frostbitten, her strength nearly depleted in the frigid storm, while the Cryo Archon remained barely affected.
Amid the vast snowy expanse, the severely wounded Peruere knelt on one knee.
Through the blizzard, the Cryo Archon approached her step by step.
She knew her fate was sealed today.
But this was her debt: her life in exchange for the survival of the children of the Hearth.
The Tsaritsa had been merciful, sparing the children. Now it was time for Peruere to repay that debt.
To repay kindness with gratitude, to settle debts with equivalence—this was her principle.
She did not fear death. While she regretted not being able to see the children again, dying here and not becoming the villain who destroyed their home seemed like an acceptable end.
She let out a long sigh, a cloud of white mist escaping her lips.
After drifting through life for so long, she had finally found what she sought. She had no regrets.
"How unfortunate—you've lost, Peruere."
The Cryo Archon stood before her, gazing down.
"According to the rules, I must claim the price you owe."
"Of course. This is what I should pay," Peruere replied calmly, nodding without hesitation.
The Cryo Archon said nothing more. A tremendous surge of Cryo energy gathered in her hand, lowering the surrounding temperature even further.
She extended her hand, reaching toward Peruere's head.
The closer the hand came, the colder Peruere felt. She knew that when the Archon's hand touched her, she would be transformed into an icy statue on the snowfield.
Peruere's life was nearing its end.
But at that very moment, as she lowered herself, a small ornate box slipped from within her clothing and fell to the ground.
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