"Heh. So, this is a poet's heart? It's not as noble as he pretended—"
Just a glance was enough to disgust Cocolia, who promptly withdrew her hand. Venti's face twisted in pain as he fell backward, playing along with an exaggerated "Thud!" as he hit the ground. His outstretched finger traced a faint smear of blood across the weather-worn stones beneath him.
Bronya reached toward him in shock, instinctively stretching her hand out to where he lay.
But he wasn't going to answer her call.
The sorrow and helplessness that rose within her were overwhelming. This was the friend who had taught her so much, who had led them through the cold and storms to this very place—and now, he'd fallen to this despicable woman's cruelty...
Her gaze fixed on Cocolia with a searing intensity, her anger so fierce it seemed to wish for the woman's immediate destruction. Her look only prompted a sneering laugh from Cocolia.
"Foolish girl. Did you really think a coup could be as easy as child's play?"
No sooner had she spoken than a flash of movement appeared beside her. Seele lunged forward, her scythe gleaming with deadly intent as she aimed for Cocolia's neck.
But instead of flesh, the scythe met an icy resistance, clashing with the hard crystal that had formed over Cocolia's skin. Cocolia's grin widened, her eyes glinting with malice as she taunted Seele.
"This is your attack? It wouldn't even qualify as a nail file."
Seele's voice was thick with fury as she stared daggers at Cocolia. "I'll never forgive you!"
"Oh really?" Cocolia laughed coldly, her tone dripping with disdain. "You—a butterfly that emerged from a heap of trash—dare to challenge me?"
The ground beneath Seele trembled as a chill wave of frost forced her back. Without a moment's pause, Cocolia raised her hands, summoning two lances of pure ice that crystallized in her grip, the perfect counterpoint to Bronya's burning spear. Frost bloomed wherever the spears touched, the bitter cold leeching life from the ground itself.
"Let me show you what true power is," Cocolia intoned, her voice an icy snarl. "Feel the might of a lineage that has ruled Belobog unbroken. This city of frost was never meant to cradle flames—"
Seele fought to free herself, but icy tendrils spread up her scythe, encasing her in seconds. She froze, her rage, her defiance, and the vibrant red of her flame-like scarf now suspended, locked in an icy prison.
"No!" Bronya's voice broke in a cry of anguish, her mind clouded with sorrow. The fight with Dvalin had left her drained, but the sight of her fallen friends struck her deeper than any wound. She could barely stand, and yet… how could she have let it come to this?
"Why… why are you doing this?"
"Lady Bronya, get ahold of yourself!" Gepard's voice cut through the haze of despair. His face was solemn, etched with pain, but there was steel in his voice, hardened by battles past.
He'd seen too many comrades fall, too many joyous victories stolen by unseen threats. If he didn't protect Bronya now, if she fell here… Belobog's last hope would be extinguished. She was meant to become the next Great Guardian, a beacon for their people, and he had to safeguard that future.
Steeling himself, he turned to face Cocolia, his voice blazing with a fury he could no longer contain. "That's not the power of the Guardians at all! It's the power of the Stellaron!"
Thanks to his sister's research—and Venti's insight—he knew that this unending cold stemmed from the Stellaron's curse. This "salvation" had frozen their planet for over seven centuries, dragging Belobog's people back to a primitive age, confined to their city's walls. What kind of twisted deliverance was that?
Whatever justification Cocolia had once given, it was all a lie. Her schemes, her supposed wisdom—they were nothing but hollow justifications for a monstrous betrayal.
Through twisted bargains, she'd sacrificed her people, all to build a "new world" out of delusions and deceit.
Her madness and betrayal had pushed Gepard beyond the limits of his endurance. With an agonized grimace, he lifted his chin, his voice ringing with a solemn oath. "I swear on Klipper's name, I will end your frozen fantasy!"
"Oh?" Cocolia scoffed, a hint of a sneer tugging at her lips. "Are you so eager to throw your life away with the rest of these weaklings?"
"Venti… and Seele—they aren't weak! The only weak one here is you, Cocolia, eaten up by that power, abandoning every sacred duty you ever had!" Gepard's voice cracked with fury, but he kept his gaze sharp, watching for her next move.
They couldn't win this fight, but if he could distract her long enough, Bronya might escape to safety.
If even a sliver of motherly warmth remained in Cocolia's heart, perhaps she wouldn't strike Bronya down on sight. Perhaps he could buy enough time with his own life.
He saw Pela, battered but steadfast, silently signaling to him. He gave a small nod and drew Cocolia's attention with a fierce shout.
A whisper of movement cut through the air as a scouting drone shot forward. Cocolia dodged it effortlessly, her gaze darkening as she prepared to retaliate. She hurled a lance of frost straight at the diminutive intelligence officer.
But Gepard was faster. He lunged, catching the spear midair, his arm freezing under the weapon's icy grip, the cold biting down to his bones. Yet, with a twist and a cry, he deflected the lance, sending it hurtling back toward its wielder.
As the barrier gate clanged shut, he pushed Bronya forward, directly into Pela's waiting arms. Bronya fell against the weakened girl, who managed to drag her inside. As the gate sealed behind them, Pela whispered, "Please… don't… waste this, Bronya…"
Bronya looked up to see Pela, pale and bleeding, steadying herself as she clung to the gate's controls. She had sacrificed everything for this final act of loyalty. Behind the barricade, Gepard was still fighting, refusing to let the enemy break through.
Why had she not seen it sooner? Cocolia had shown signs, and yet, her own denial had blinded her until the very end, leading her allies into a trap.
Anguish burned in her chest as her heart ached with a wordless fury. The desire to fight welled up in her, fierce and consuming, but she couldn't squander this chance. She couldn't let them down.
Though her body trembled with weakness and her breath tasted of iron, Bronya pushed forward. She would retreat—for now. She would gather strength.
Holding tightly to her spear, she whispered a vow to Klipper. No matter what it took, she would return, and she would tear down the nightmare that Cocolia had become.
As she rose, gripping Pela's small form for support, a thud echoed from beyond the gate. Gepard?
A faint shuffling sound reached her ears. It was like the turning of pages, rustling gently in the wind. Odd. Here, where the air was heavy with frost, there shouldn't be any books…
Could it be…?
Pela noticed it, too. Summoning her last strength, she looked back, eyes widening as the scarlet-stained book she'd dropped moments ago lay open, its pages flipping in the breeze.
That gentle wind…
Only one person could command a breeze so soft, so pure…
And then, they heard it—a clear, piercing dragon's call echoed across the field. Dvalin, the mighty dragon, rose from the depths of the frozen ground, unfurling his wings to gather the winds into a storm that spun the heavens.
Within that swirling vortex, a melody began to play, light and lilting, like fresh rain. It washed over the battlefield, the gentle breeze lifting despair from the hearts of all who heard it. Those once weighed down by hopelessness felt it dissolve, replaced by a sudden, inexplicable calm.
Even Pela's pain faded, and the strength she thought lost began to return.
Then Cocolia's voice cut through the stillness, incredulous and panicked, "This power… How is this possible? How do you still—?"
"Hehe. Surprised?" A familiar voice rang out, teasingly light.
The wind-colored poet had shed his previous attire, transformed now into a vision of serene divinity, as though he felt no cold or darkness. Gone was the bard's cloak, replaced by sheer, flowing fabrics that glimmered with celestial energy. His arms and legs were wrapped with minimal covering, the loose cloth brushing against his bare skin with each playful shift of his stance.
Bronya could hardly believe her eyes. This was Venti—yet not the Venti she had known. He was the very embodiment of the winds, no longer merely a playful bard but a being of divine power.
Cocolia's fury turned to a visible rage as she took a step forward. The biting chill of her icy winds clashed with Venti's gentle gusts. "A conceited wretch! You think you're some kind of god just because you've dressed up in this pathetic excuse of a divine garb?"
"Oh? Coming from someone still clinging to the fashion of an era long past?" Venti's smirk was unmistakable, his words biting without a hint of vulgarity.
"Enough, you insolent child! Die!" Cocolia's voice seethed as she unleashed her frigid power toward him.
But the young god merely lifted his hand, forming his fingers into a playful mockery of a gun, aiming it her way. "Biu~" he whispered, his lips forming a soft pout.
A surge of wind erupted, a gust so fierce it tore the ground itself, lifting the frozen platform and its wicked queen off into the skies, hurling her far towards the distant cliffs of Everwinter Ridge.
---
T/N: I'm in loveeeee SHOT THROUGH THE HEART~
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