The battle between Elen and Figneria had been continuing in the middle of the battlefield. Several places on their bodies were marked by fresh wounds. The fierce onslaught by Elen, ignoring the pain screaming at her from all over her body, and the difference in weapon range allowed her blade to reach the black-haired Vanadis’ body. Lim being burned alive by Bargren’s flames spurred on Elen’s fighting spirit even further, and it looked as if her slashes had become even sharper.
It was at this moment that both witnessed lightning flashing in the rear of Legnica’s army, accompanied by the blowing of horns. Both clearly understood that something had happened.
“No way for me to be saved by her on this soil…” Elen muttered unintentionally.
She hadn’t expected for Liza to show up here. Elen had believed that Liza had simply remained in Lebus while being cautious of Kazakov and Figneria.
Elen looked back at Figneria with a serious expression.
“What are you going to do?” She asked curtly.
The flow of the battle had shifted towards defeat for Legnica’s army. Those two, who had spent many years on the battlefield, could clearly perceive the change permeating the battlefield around them.
Even if Figneria were to kill Elen, causing Leitmeritz’s army to flee, they’d be forced to fight Lebus’ army without a break. Figneria would likely need to fight against Liza as well.
She overwhelmed Liza when they fought in the capital, but as this would be her second battle, the outcome would become quite uncertain. On top of Figneria being wounded and exhausted, Liza was acquainted with her fighting style.
“Let’s see.” Figneria lowered her eyes towards her left hand without answering right away.
The numbness had vanished a good while ago. However, she still hadn’t summoned Bargren. The small sword with the scarlet blade kept scorching Lim’s body as of yet. Lim still not having died stemmed from Figneria having told Bargren to not finish her off. She had done so because she thought she could lead Elen into panicking by continuing to use Bargren like that.
──In the end she’ll probably die by your blades anyway, but rather than your flames…
Figneria called out to Bargren in her mind. The crimson flames burning Lim’s body soundlessly disappeared. Immediately following, a faint light wrapped up her left hand. And as soon as the light dispersed, she was grasping a small sword emitting a vermilion glimmer.
Lim didn’t move while crouching on the ground. It looked as though she had fainted.
Elen wanted to rush over to her right away, but Figneria blocked her way with both blades held up.
“So you plan to go on, huh?” Elen snarled lowly.
Albeit only faintly, she had hoped for another outcome.
Figneria answered with a smile blooming on her face, “My soldiers are still fighting.”
Why were they fighting Leitmeritz? Before heading into this battle, Figneria had given the following reason for this battle to her retainers: “Earl Pardu, Eugene Shevarin, is plotting against the crown, aiming to take the throne for himself. The Vanadis of Leitmeritz, Lebus, and Polesia are backing the earl on this. Even me having been put under house arrest for fighting against Lebus’ Vanadis was part of their plot. First we’re going to crush Leitmeritz.”
There might have been some among her retainers who had harbored doubts about her explanation. Moreover, there must have been some feeling reluctant to fight Leitmeritz. Elen and the previous Vanadis of Legnica, Alexandra Alshavin were close friends, allowing Leitmeritz and Legnica to build a friendly relationship. There were many occasions where they stood side-by-side, fighting common threats, rather than turning blades at each other.
And yet, despite all that, her retainers and soldiers obeyed the order. For Figneria’s sake.
She couldn’t afford to throw the fight at this point. Flames licked up from her swords, forming a belt that engulfed Figneria’s body.
“I’ll defeat you. And then I’ll also kill Lebus’ Vanadis.”
Elen ground her molars while shuddering at the cocksure statement. If it was Figneria, she might really be able to pull this off. Figneria’s voice was teeming with a drive, making Elen believe so.
──However, for her to still have left enough power to use a draconic art…
Arifar warned Elen by emitting a gentle breeze. A smile formed on Elen’s lips. She knew that she likely wouldn’t be able to escape or avoid this blow.
──In that case, there’s only one thing I have to do.
Elen pointed Silver Flash at Figneria. The draconic tool answered Elen’s will, creating a furious wind around her. Earth turned into dust, whirling up into the air. Many wind spirals overlapped with each other, beginning to form a maelstrom reminiscent of a tornado.
The fire belt coiling around Figneria’s body transformed once more. Making the ground around her shine golden for an instant, the flames swelled up grandly while being dyed crimson again. Turning into two huge pillars of fire, the flames towered on the left and right of Figneria. The two blades constantly sent new flames into the pillars, boosting the force of the fires while scattering a rain of fire rather than embers, making the pillars twist and sway. Their gleam kept increasing while they filled the surroundings with heat, as they grew up to a size seemingly piercing the heavens.
The number of soldiers watching the fight of the two Vanadis had dwindled significantly, but the few remaining spectators had retreated another 20 steps from where they stood at the beginning of the duel. Even though they stood this far away, the wind and heat teased their cheeks, telling them that they were anything but safe where they stood.
──Tigre.
While amassing the power of wind in Arifar’s blade, Elen thought about Tigre. He was her dear lover who had accepted all of her, be it her as a Vanadis or as a simple girl. He was half of her future who would walk the path of life with her. If he were to be right in front of her, she might have hugged him without any hesitation. At this point it was already fine to say that the youth had become Elen’s reason to live.
──I’ll fight to the bitter end and prevail so as to meet you once more. I’m sure you’d be thinking the very same in my shoes as well. Let’s create many, many memories together. And then. I’ll brag about you to Vissarion when I meet him again someday. I’ll tell him that he’d never find a man as wonderful and great as you, even if he were to search the entire continent. Of course I’ll brag to Sasha, too.
Her ruby eyes gleamed as they overflowed with vitality and fighting spirit. However, Figneria didn’t lose out in that respect as her black eyes had violent flames flickering deep within.
Both of them already stood at the right distance. Figneria kicked off the ground.
“──Revolving Twin BlazeFranrot!”
Figneria had finished her draconic art. The very long golden and scarlet fire pillars glided across the ground as if drawing arcs. Even just the abnormal heat emitted from their surfaces would doubtlessly turn any man into ash with ease. The two pillars crossed and fused, transforming into a huge wall of entwining crimson and golden fire as it approached Elen. It swallowed her faster than she could unleash her own draconic art.
Figneria’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t believe that Elen would have erred in her judgment this late in the game. However, her own pillar had definitely devoured Elen.
The draconic tool in her two hands informed her of what was happening within the pillar of raging fire, telling her that something was squirming.
Figneria put herself on guard while looking up to the flame pillar, and just then, a voice thundered, “──Tear the atmosphere apart!Ley Adomos”
A part of the pillar was blown apart from within. The storm vortex unleashed from there was hurled at Figneria. But, she pulled through by crossing Bargren.
The power of the wind storm wasn’t that terrifying as it had likely exhausted most of its force when destroying the pillar. And yet, the battering of the storm, which would likely blow her away if she relaxed her attention, was plenty to pin down Figneria.
And then Figneria saw it. How a single girl, clad in wind, swooped down on her from within the pillar. Countless embers danced around her body as the wind’s protection had apparently reached its limit. Her golden and red hair ornaments were burned down by the flames, turning into charcoal and crumbling within an instant.
Elen screamed something. Figneria also screamed something back at her while glaring. It might have been their opponent’s names, or otherwise yells indicating their fighting spirits. Even the two women, who had screamed in the first place, couldn’t make head or tails of what was being said.
Elen slashed Figneria with her longsword while being in the air. Figneria thrust out the small sword in her right hand high into the air.
The longsword tore through Figneria’s left shoulder, digging all the way to her chest while cutting through her collarbone. On the other hand, the small sword reached Elen’s forehead, making it bleed. But, it ended up short. The scattered blood was evaporated by the flames and carried away by the wind, soundlessly blessing the ground with its nutrients.
With her posture falling apart in the air, Elen tumbled onto the ground. Meanwhile Figneria stood stock still while her black uniform began to dye crimson.
◆◇◆
The instant she received an impact on her left shoulder, a certain scene vividly played back in Figneria’s mind.
In the room of some inn, Figneria sat on a bed next to a man. The man was in his mid thirties. He had a medium build, and his left cheek was blemished by a white scar. The man’s name was Vissarion. He was the leader of 『Silver Gale』, one of the few men she could allow herself to face unguarded.
Figneria was sitting on the bed next to Vissarion. Both of them wore no more than thin layers of clothes, and a wine bottle as well as two cups stood on the small table next to the bed.
“Is that your idea of a country?” Vissarion laughed while looking at Figneria. “There are some parts I’d consider as dodgy, but it suits you.”
“You’re not going to say that it’s stupid?”
A faint provocation, not just surprise, resonated in Figneria’s voice.
“It’s different from the country I came up with.”
Always being the one to attack first. Continuing to keep the hegemony of the battles at hand. This was Figneria’s idea of a country. It might earn the animosity and hatred of the neighboring countries, but a country wasn’t a structure that could move its soldiers just because of that.
“I told you, it’s fine like that,” Vissarion continued his words while laughing, “Zhcted, Brune, Asvarre, and Muozinel. Each of them has a king, nobles, and citizens, and yet all of them are different. It’s okay for all kinds of countries to exist. Of course, it might cause friction, but I think it’s the duty of a king to somehow handle all these problems.”
The instant she heard, “I’d like to see the country you thought of,” Figneria casually cast her eyes down, hiding her own bashfulness.
Without any prior notice, the scenery reflected in front of her eyes changed into something completely different.
She was standing in a wasteland. No sounds or smells tickled her senses. A short distance away, things started to look indistinct. Nevertheless, she knew that she was standing on a battlefield.
A single man was lying at her feet. It was Vissarion. A big cut ran through his chest from his left shoulder. A fatal wound. Why did she know this? Because she had been the one that caused this injury.
“Why…?”
The voice passing her lips was surprisingly frail. She hadn’t planned for things to turn out like this.
It was a pursuit. The side Figneria belonged to had achieved victory. Vissarion had served as rear guard, protecting his comrades who had been late in escaping. And then both of them clashed. Elen and Lim were at Vissarion’s side.
There was the option to not fight. If Figneria had let them go without a word and without pointing her blade at him, Vissarion might have succeeded in fleeing the battlefield together with Elen and Lim.
However, Figneria didn’t choose that option. On the battlefield, it was a rule to kill acquaintances on the enemy side without making them suffer. That was an ironclad rule Figneria knew of. If she let them escape, swayed by her emotions, she and her comrades could possibly get attacked later on. Moreover, her allies would conclude that she had allowed them to get away because she was a traitor. Either way, a mercenary, who allowed acquaintances among the enemy to escape, would be alienated, and lose the place they belonged to.
Figneria had experienced slaying people, with whom she fought side-by-side on some battlefields, as enemies on another battlefield on countless occasions. Such was the life of a mercenary.
For this reason she pointed her sword at Vissarion. Just like she had done on many battlefields so far. Vissarion responded by readying his sword without even trying to run away.
It was crystal clear that they’d hurt each other and that he could possibly die, but as a warrior, Vissarion exceeded Figneria in ability. And yet Figneria thought that it’d be fine.
She had been living by wandering from one battlefield to the next as a mercenary. She hadn’t even tried to think of another way to live her life. Luckily, she never went through any pitiful experiences as a warrior or as a woman.
There was the part of her thinking that it’d be great to die without suffering much if possible, but she was well aware that this was but a lofty hope.
Only now she believed that the time back then had been thriving with many emotions. There was her desire to measure herself against Vissarion’s abilities. And there was her wish to perish on the battlefield as a warrior. There was her conviction that Vissarion wouldn’t do anything as lowly as disgracing her after cutting her down. She could even come to terms with being killed, if it was by his hands. And, she was certain that he’d definitely remember her in the future.
In short, she ended up presuming upon him.
Sword struck sword. Looks crossed. The two whittled down their lives in a corner of the battlefield which was steadily heading for its conclusion with the setting sun as a backdrop.
And eventually, a conclusion Figneria hadn’t expected arrived. She slipped past Vissarion’s sword, and injured him fatally.
When Vissarion fell, Figneria realized that the blade of a broken sword was partly buried in his waist. making it questionable whether he’d have lived even without having fought Figneria.
Figneria got flustered, but didn’t allow it to show in her attitude. It was as if her emotions temporarily froze over due to the heavy shock. She knelt down, picking up Vissarion’s hand.
However, no words left her mouth. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, and yet all of them got stuck in her throat.
Vissarion looked up to her, faintly lifting the corners of his mouth. It was as if he was laughing. At that moment, small bubbles of blood made their way out through the corners of his mouth.
Merely one single word managed to reach Figneria’s ears. To Figneria it seemed as if he had said, “Dream.” And before she could ask what he meant, the light faded from his eyes.
Dream. Vissarion dreamed of founding a country. Did he grieve over being unable to realize that dream? Did he hate her for having stolen this dream from him? But, in either case, it’d have been unlikely for him to have smiled like that.
When she lifted her face, her eyes met Elen’s. Those ruby eyes fiercely burning with pure, unfiltered rage.
Suddenly, Elen’s face swayed, looking like there were two of it. Her hazy consciousness was pulled back into reality.
The one standing front of Figneria was Eleonora Viltaria, holding the alias of 『Wind Princess of the Silver Flash』, not the mercenary Eleonora who was a member of 『Silver Gale』.
At long last Figneria perceived that she had been cut by Elen. Her not feeling any pain was very likely owed to her body dipping in the abyss of death. She felt like her travel through her memories had taken a long time, but in reality it lasted only a few moments.
Pressing a hand against the wound reaching from her left shoulder to her chest, Figneria smiled. She was amused by the fact that she had been cut in the same place where she had fatally injured Vissarion in the past.
“──Elen.” Figneria called out to the silver-haired girl with the tone she had used long ago.
Elen still kept Arifar at the ready, but her face betrayed her confusion after having noticed the change in Figneria.
“Won’t you take my head?”
Elen shook her head. Figneria was Vissarion’s enemy, but Elen knew that Figneria couldn’t be saved any longer. She didn’t feel the need to do anything further.
“I see.” Figneria nodded and pondered whether she should pass on the word Vissarion had left behind at his final moment to Elen, his daughter.
Silence continued to fill the atmosphere alongside the wind. Figneria exhaled, softly blowing out the silence. Figneria had decided to remain quiet. Elen had said that she followed her own dreams. Figneria suspected that it’d be unnecessary to her in that case. That it’d be alright to keep it to herself.
The blood, which continued to flow through Figneria’s body, dyed the black clothes covering her skin in a dark red, and created a big pool of blood at her feet. Despite that, Figneria kept standing tall, not showing the slightest hint of swaying. She didn’t drop Bargren either.
“If you’re not going to take my head, I’ll put an end to it in my own way. Sorry for being selfish, but please take care of Legnica.”
This was her request as a Vanadis. After confirming Elen’s nod, Figneria lowered her eyes at the two small swords in her hands.
“I’ll have you carry out one last job.”
She smiled wryly in her mind as it had been less than a year that Bargren had accompanied her. Yet, as a warrior, she undoubtedly considered these two swords as partners and close friends. All of this was owed to her own worthlessness.
The golden blade and the scarlet blade each emitted a dull glow. That gleam looked to Figneria as if they were blaming her, thanking her, or both at the same time. She crossed the blades in front of her chest. Flames gushed out of the two blades. The flames spread towards Figneria like living creatures, and then wrapped up her whole body in no time, turning into a single pillar of fire.
Elen widened her eyes in surprise, and Legnica’s soldiers, who had been watching from a distance, wailed in grief and shock.
Figneria, who had become a black shadow within the red hot flame didn’t budge, nor did she utter a single sound.
Elen watched that spectacle with a bated breath. Just the cackling of the blazing flames reached her ears. The black shadow faded within the pillar of fire as if melting away. It didn’t even take ten breaths for it to vanish completely.
And then, just when Elen thought the pillar swelled up drastically, it slowly shrunk down while flickering. It became as small as a bonfire, and then it dwindled even further to the size of the fire in a lamp, before finally disappearing altogether without even leaving a trace of its existence behind. Just the two swords kept radiating a golden and a scarlet glow on the ground.
Elen walked up, and picked up the two swords. Even though they had been within scorching heat moments ago, they now carried a coldness as it was characteristic to metal. Elen gently hugged the two swords as if cherishing something precious.
──Vissarion, please take care of Figneria.
She prayed for the peace of Figneria’s soul not to the gods, but her foster father. She thought that this was how it should be. Like this story? Support the translation by reading it at Infinite Novel Translations.
Almost at the same instant as she immersed herself in sentimental thoughts, Elen put on a stern expression as Vanadis, and shouted at the top of her lungs while hoisting her longsword into the air, “Figneria Alshavin ended her own life! Soldiers of Legnica, cast away your weapons and surrender yourself! I shall promise you in the name of Eleonora Viltaria that you will be treated as honored warriors!”
A commotion ran through the soldiers. The news of Figneria’s death rapidly spread among Legnica’s army. A part of their soldiers tried to continue fighting amidst the touting horns, but most of them obeyed Elen’s instructions, and surrendered after throwing down their weapons or chose to run away. They had lost all reason to fight rather than guessing that they had lost any chance at victory.
Svirid, who served as deputy commander of Legnica’s forces, decided to capitulate. His face when he informed the soldiers of his decision had lost all color due to the shock and fatigue, looking just like the face of a stone statue. After pausing for a while, remorseful sobbing broke its way out of his trembling lips.
Rurick, who had been leading Leitmeritz’s army, didn’t change his grave expression as he was wrapped up by pain over having lost a comrade-in-arms and actually experienced a feeling of exhaustion and liberation rather than a joy over victory.
This spelled the end of the “Battle of Boroszló.” The casualties on Leitmeritz’s side amounted to close to 400. The losses on Legnica’s side surpassed 800. Either side had their injured people doubling those numbers.
Not even a handful of ash was left behind at the place where Figneria met her end. The sole proof of her death was the scene that had burned itself into the minds of Elen and the soldiers who watched it.
◎
———————- End of Part 4 ———————-
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