—
Chapter streak! Maybe I shouldn't be doing this, since I have like 3 exams next week and I haven't studied much XDXD.
Thanks to LimX23 for being the beta reader and quality supervisor of this chapter.
—
One minute earlier:
"Then there is nothing more to say."
Without waiting for permission or explanation, Mikoto took a step towards him and took his arm tightly.
At that very moment, Bell felt a tingling sensation run across his skin, a strange pressure on his chest, as if something in the air had opened up for him. A radiant warmth enveloped him, not scorching like an enemy's fire, but warm and protective, like the embrace of a rising sun. A quiet voice, impossible to describe, resonated deep within him.
[Divine Blessing of the Sun]: Increases the stats and effect of all magic when it is daytime.
The announcement flashed before his eyes as if etched in thin air. Bell blinked in disbelief before the words became clear in his mind.
The young man stood still, his breath ragged. Right now, in the midst of the battle that was about to begin… a new blessing.
Bell closed his eyes and stifled an incredulous laugh, though he couldn't stop a smile from forming on his lips. "This is... convenient," he thought. Convenient and, at the same time, ironic. The war he was about to wage was against the Apollo Familia, followers of the Sun God. And it was precisely the Sun that was now strengthening him. The young man didn't know whether to take it as mockery or as a sign. Perhaps both.
Mikoto didn't notice the change. "Then, Bell-dono," she murmured solemnly, "it's time."
The aspiring hero nodded silently.
Mikoto bent her knees and began to spin, clutching Bell's arm. The world around them became a whirlwind of movement. The air whistled as her figure spun around again and again, building strength, speed, and tension with each rotation. Bell let himself go, relaxing his body like an arrow about to be released, trusting her completely.
The spins accelerated, the wind cut against their faces, and in a final push, Mikoto gave a fierce scream and threw Bell forward.
The young man's body shot out like a cannonball, hurtling through the air at impossible speeds. The accumulated force catapulted him across the plain, straight toward the enemy's imposing fortress.
"EXPLOSION!"
…
The smoke had not yet completely dissipated, and cries of alarm echoed among the castle walls. The shock wave had shaken the structure, and stone fragments were still falling from the battlements, crashing onto the stone floor. From within this dense cloud of dust and fire, a silhouette emerged, standing firm, sword already drawn and eyes glowing like embers.
Bell Cranel emerged from the ruins like a hero plucked from a legend, his jacket flapping in the wind and his gaze fixed straight ahead. His breathing was steady, his posture impeccable, and his body radiated something Apollo's Adventurers couldn't define at that moment: absolute confidence.
A murmur of terror and surprise ran through the defenders stationed in the courtyard. No one expected the offensive to begin so soon. They had been told they had two days' notice, enough time to relax, organize minimal guards, and drink without worry. But now, the impossible was happening: Bell Cranel was inside the castle... alone.
The first to react was a lancer who, with a desperate cry, charged at him. The lance descended in a swift arc, seeking Bell's chest, but the response was immediate: the boy took a slight step to the side, barely a movement of the ankle and waist, and the point grazed his shoulder, missing him. Just as fluidly, Bell swung his short sword and plunged the blade into the enemy's exposed flank. The man fell with nothing more than a stifled groan.
That was the trigger.
"Kill him, now!" shouted an archer from the walls, firing a volley of arrows.
Bell raised his sword, and in a seemingly impossible move, deflected one of the arrows in mid-flight. Another grazed his cheek, and the rest crashed into the ground or his own companions. The boy didn't stop to look back; he moved forward without losing his rhythm, dodging as if his body knew in advance where the projectiles were heading.
From the spear on his back, Artemis watched everything intently. The Goddess contained within that weapon tightened her voice in her throat as she watched Bell's perfect dance. Every dodge, every counterattack, was executed with the ease of a battle-hardened warrior. And yet, she knew better than anyone that Bell was still learning, still growing.
"Your movements… are clean. Too clean." Artemis whispered, though only Bell could hear her in the depths of their bond. "Just as I expected of you, Orion."
Bell didn't respond. He couldn't. The tension was too great, and every muscle in him was focused on the fight. But in the back of his mind, he agreed with her. The blessing he'd just received moments before and the [Divine Blessing of Blue Skies] had dramatically increased his abilities at that time of day, but combined with his mastery of combat, his reflexes were almost superhuman.
An enemy swordsman tried to plunge his blade into his abdomen. Bell twisted his torso, caught the opponent's wrist with his free hand, and brought him down with a knee to the throat. Before he fell, he was already slashing sideways, opening the defense of another opponent.
Screams filled the air. Confusion grew. Magical projectiles began to pile up: fireballs or pure explosions. Bell dodged them with twists and jumps, feeling the adrenaline rush mingled with the power burning in his veins. In an instant, he tilted his head, and a bolt of lightning passed close enough to singe his hair.
Artemis gasped, but Bell was already moving again, launching himself at the mage who had fired. A sharp slash was enough to knock him out.
Each enemy fell, one after another, like pieces in a deadly choreography.
But meanwhile, beyond those walls, Mikoto was running with all her might. The sound of the impact had resounded like thunder behind her, and the echo still thundered in her ears. Her steps were quick, steady, and her lungs burned with exertion, but she didn't slow down for a moment. The castle wasn't that far away, but for someone on foot, even five minutes could feel like an eternity in the midst of an assault of that magnitude.
Her heart pounded. She trusted Bell, he'd proven it time and time again, but she also knew him well enough to know that blind trust was dangerous. No matter how strong he'd become… in the end, Bell Cranel was still just one person against an entire Familia.
"Hang on, Bell-dono. I'll be there soon," he thought through gritted teeth, increasing his running pace even further.
A dozen men formed a semicircle in front of Bell, shields raised and spears in position. Bell paused for a moment, assessing the situation. The air thickened with tension. The men gulped.
And then, he moved.
A flash of steel, a shift in stance, and Bell launched himself at the defensive line. The first spear swung down, seeking to pierce his abdomen, but he twisted his body and advanced with a low glide, as if he'd rehearsed that move a thousand times. With an upward slash, he sliced the spear in half and opened a gap in the formation.
The shields closed against him, but Bell didn't stop. A knee, a shove, a precise cut: each movement brought down another obstacle. When he finally emerged on the other side of the formation, half a dozen men lay on the ground.
Artemis felt a pang of pride and concern at the same time. Bell wasn't just surviving: he was prevailing.
But what was most disturbing to the defenders was his gaze. There was no hatred, no resentment, not even arrogance in those red eyes. Only determination. That, for many, was more terrifying than any roar of fury.
A new group of Adventurers arrived from another section of the castle, alarmed by the initial explosion. They were more organized, with mages ready behind the swordsmen. An arrow of light streaked through the air straight at Bell. This time he didn't dodge: he raised his sword, and a flash ran along the blade. The magical projectile split in two, dissipating into luminous particles.
The screams grew louder. This wasn't just any Adventurer.
…
The Divine Mirrors floated in the air like fragments of solid water, each showing different angles of the assault. The room was crowded with Deities, their expressions oscillating between anticipation and disbelief as Bell Cranel's reflection, shrouded in smoke and flashing steel, filled the images.
Hestia leaned forward, her fists clenched on her knees, her smile bordering on hubris. "See that? That's my boy! Who else could push their way into the Apollo Familia like that?" Her voice sounded like that of a mother showing off her child in a school competition, though what she was witnessing was a brutal fight in the middle of a War Game.
Some Gods snorted, others rolled their eyes. But none could deny that what they saw was extraordinary: a lone Adventurer, withstanding the onslaught of dozens of enemies as if the weight of that battle had been designed for him.
Loki, with her usual mocking air, leaned back in her seat and clicked her tongue. "Well, well. I thought this would all be a boring spectacle. But look at you, Apollo… it seems your family is being humiliated in their own backyard." Her smile widened as she saw the Sun God's lips tighten.
Apollo wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't even smiling. His fingers were clenched on the armrest of the seat where he rested, his nails digging into the chair. The arrogance he had displayed at the beginning of the War Game had completely evaporated. His once radiant face darkened with each enemy that fell to Bell's sword.
Hermes, on the other hand, remained a relaxed spectator, but his smile had too sharp an edge to be casual. He held his hat lightly, his eyes shining with a sparkle that revealed his thoughts. "Yes… that's right. Exactly like that. Let everyone see."
Internally, Hermes vibrated with satisfaction. Everything he had sought, everything he had plotted with patience and manipulation, was beginning to take shape before his eyes. A hero wasn't born out of thin air. It wasn't a self-proclaimed title, nor a simple accumulation of strength. Heroes were forged under pressure, in the eyes of everyone, when the world itself demanded someone rise up. And now, Bell Cranel was fulfilling that role.
A new hero. One that not only Orario, but the entire world, would eventually recognize.
"Hmm…" Demeter murmured, her eyes still fixed on the mirror with a hint of concern for the rabbit. "He's still impressive. But he's just one boy, isn't he? One against an entire family… He can't keep that pace up forever."
"Exactly," Takemikazuchi chimed in with his usual serenity, though his brows furrowed with some concern; after all, Mikoto was still on the way. "Skill is admirable, but a human body's resources are limited. Every second that passes, it gets closer to its limit."
Another God snarled through gritted teeth. "Bah! Limits! That kid's fighting like a real warrior! It's not about how long he lasts, but how much damage he can do before he falls. And so far he's massacring those idiots at Apollo!"
The atmosphere in the room oscillated between skepticism and growing discomfort. Watching Bell withstand the assault of so many enemies was, in itself, an extraordinary spectacle. But all the Gods knew the same thing: endurance wasn't infinite. Fatigue, pain, the weight of every blow received, even those he managed to deflect, would eventually accumulate.
"That child…" Hestia murmured softly, her expression softening for a moment.
And it was true. In the mirrors, Bell didn't show a single moment of doubt. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no wavering in his sword. Every dodge was fluid, every counterattack precise, every movement charged with a confidence that many of the Gods didn't expect to see in someone like him.
Loki raised an eyebrow, continuing to tease Apollo. "So, Sunshine, what happened to your 'sure victory'? Wasn't this just a formality? It seems your Familia has become a luxury training ground for the bunny."
Apollo didn't respond. His jaw was so clenched it looked like his teeth were about to snap. The entire room felt the tension in his body, and more than one God enjoyed seeing how the Sun God, so accustomed to shining, was now eclipsed by a mere mortal.
Hermes hid a laugh behind a fake throat clearing. But his mind was still working, spinning. It wasn't just about the show. It wasn't just about Bell. It was about what would come next.
If he won…
If he could get the whole world to recognize him as more than just a lucky Adventurer…
So, the hero he had waited so long for… would finally be here.
And he wouldn't be just any hero. No, Bell Cranel would be a hero the Gods couldn't control.
A hero that he would later form.
Hestia, still too absorbed in the mirror, tilted her head with a thoughtful expression. "Strange… Where is Freya?"
Meanwhile, in the mirrors, Bell continued to cut through the chaos. His breathing was labored, but his sword never wavered. The Sun's brilliance illuminated his every move, as if the day itself favored him.
…
The Pleasure District, normally bustling and filled with bright lights, strong perfumes, and masked laughter, had a strange air that day. The Sun bathed the crimson rooftops of the brothels, and the atmosphere that usually filled the streets seemed somewhat subdued, as if it had captured a feeling its inhabitants didn't yet understand.
In the upper chamber of the Goddess Ishtar's palace, perfumes and wine permeated the air. The Goddess reclined on a throne, her lips twisted in an irritated smile as her long nails tapped the arm of the seat.
"Where the hell has that worthless Aisha gone?" She muttered, with a hint of annoyance. "She's probably off to sleep with some worthless man somewhere in this city. When I get back, I'll teach a bitch like her not to disappear without permission."
Her voice, laced with venom, caused the Amazons present to look at each other in silence. No one dared to reply. They all knew that their Goddess's mood could change from the most dangerous sensuality to the most destructive fury in a matter of seconds.
The calm was broken by a thunderous rush of footsteps. One of the Amazons burst into the room, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged. Her skin was covered in sweat and dust, as if she'd run across half the district.
"My Lady Ishtar!" he cried, barely able to keep his breath in his lungs. "They're attacking us!"
The Goddess raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Her smile tilted, more amused than concerned.
"Attacking? Who would dare raise a hand against me on my own territory? Speak up."
"It's… it's the Freya Familia!"
The words fell like a thunderbolt in the middle of the room. Several Amazons exchanged tense glances. Ishtar's face, which seconds before had been contorted in mockery and annoyance, froze. Her face tensed. Her violet eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and panic.
"...What did you say?" She muttered, in a whisper that didn't hide the threat of fury behind it.
"Freya, My Lady! Freya's Adventurers have entered the district, destroying everything in their path! We've already lost several sisters, and the buildings…!"
Before she could continue, the ground shook. A detonation echoed in the distance, shaking the room's colorful glass. A second explosion followed almost immediately, closer, drawing a roar of alarm from everyone present. The Pleasure District, which used to bustle with music, was now being shaken by the sound of war.
Ishtar leaped to her feet, her purple hair whipping wildly around her face. The playful laughter she often used to manipulate was gone. Instead, genuine fear had stabbed through her like a dagger.
"Impossible!" She exclaimed, her voice breaking for the first time. "Impossible! There's no way that bitch Freya could have found out anything… I covered all my tracks! No transactions, no contacts, nothing that links her to me or my plans…"
But the more she tried to convince herself, the more reality sank like poison inside her. Because the Goddess of Love knew better than anyone how dangerous Freya could be, and how unlikely it was that she would launch an attack without a solid reason.
Her thoughts revolved around a single point. A single person.
Aisha.
Ishtar's expression changed from panic to visceral hatred. She gritted her teeth, her nails nearly digging into her own palm. "That damned woman... Did she gossip? Did she tell Freya about my dealings with Evilus?"
[N/A: No. It was because of the white bunny XD]
It didn't matter whether Aisha had done it voluntarily, under duress, accidentally, or even under enchantment. For Ishtar, the fact that the information had come to light could only mean one thing: someone on the inside had betrayed her. And first on her list of suspects was the missing Amazon.
The more explosions shook the walls of her palace, the harder it became to maintain the mask of control.
The Amazons shouted orders and ran through the halls, but many already had terror etched in their eyes.
"All of you useless bastards!" Ishtar shouted, her voice tinged with barely contained hysteria. "Defend this place! No matter how many die, don't let those Freya bitches cross my gates!"
Her command echoed with desperation, but she didn't stop there. She turned to another Amazon who had been paralyzed by fear. "And you! Bring Haruhime to me right now!"
The girl hesitated. "My Lady… Haruhime? Wouldn't it be safer to… hide her?"
The slap echoed louder than the nearest explosion. The Amazon whipped her head around from the impact, her cheeks red and her eyes glassy.
"Are you sure? Haruhime is mine! That Renard bitch is a key part of my plans, and I won't let her fall into anyone else's hands. Bring her to me alive, or you'll die in her place!"
Her broken voice cracked like a whip in the air, chilling the blood of everyone present. There was no affection, no concern, not a single ounce of humanity in her words.
From outside, the screams and the clash of steel were already evident. The ground shook under the weight of the Amazons running to form defensive lines, and the sky burned with fires ignited by Freya Familia's magic.
The Pleasure District burned as if the night had decided to devour its own sins. The brothels, once bathed in red and gold lights, were now illuminated by flames and flashes of magic. The perfumes that used to mask the stench of bodies and sweat had been replaced by the unmistakable scent of smoke, blood, and desperation. The streets, once filled with laughter and gasps of pleasure, were a battlefield where screams pierced the gloom.
And in the midst of that hell, the Freya Familia acted.
There was no unity, no precise coordination. Freya didn't need it. She had ordered the attack to be swift, forceful, without distractions or respites. Her children fought like unleashed beasts, each slaughtering Ishtar's Amazons in their own way. To anyone, it looked like a group of monsters competing with each other, and indeed it was: each fighting in the hope of attracting the attention of their Goddess, to win a shred of her gaze, even if they had to cover the city with corpses.
Allen Fromel moved like lightning. His spear flashed with every step, piercing throats and torsos with inhuman speed. The Amazons barely had time to raise their weapons before being reduced to corpses. The ground was painted with crimson lines as he passed, as if his own speed tore the air apart.
"Pathetic. Is this what they call warriors?" he snorted, listlessly wiping the tip of his spear on the cloak of an Amazon still shivering on the ground. "They're nothing but cheap meat. Not even worth the effort as entertainment."
His tone dripped with contempt. Allen didn't distinguish between enemies and allies when it came to speaking. Several times, he brutally shoved other family members who stood in his way, growling as if they were garbage. For him, battle was a stage to demonstrate his absolute supremacy, and any obstacle deserved to be crushed.
Not far away, Hogni was reveling in his own shadow play. The swordsman moved through the shadows of the alleys like a specter.
"The abyss claims them, and I am the herald who drags them into the darkness…"
The Amazons who rushed him flinched for a moment, taken aback by his theatrical tone, but their hesitation cost them their lives. Hogni's sword glowed with a magic that cut through flesh and stone alike.
Up ahead, Hedin the Elf stalked forward with palpable arrogance. His sword (or spear?)—well, his spear/sword— swung forward with every slash, and with a single gesture, he disintegrated the Amazons' defenses. But it wasn't just his magic that demoralized them; it was his poisonous tongue.
"Is this the best they have?" he said in an icy voice as he looked at a group of Amazons barely able to stand. "Their technique is so clumsy that even a half-blind child could defeat them. Really, how can anyone feel proud of belonging to a Goddess as vulgar as Ishtar?"
Even his own companions were not spared from insults. When Allen cut through several Amazons Hedin had already wounded, the elf clicked his tongue.
"Do you really have to ruin my work? You're like a rabid dog, unable to distinguish between an elegant fight and vulgar carnage."
Allen whipped his head around, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do you want me to run you through too, Pointy Ears?
Because it doesn't cost me anything."
Hedin smiled haughtily. "Try it, you brute. I guarantee you'll end up humiliated."
Tensions were on the verge of boiling over between the two until another explosion resonated through the district, and both reluctantly turned their attention to new victims.
Amidst the chaos, the Gulliver Brothers, those four Pallums, moved with a synchronicity that seemed impossible for the rest of the family. While one raised a massive sword that stopped projectiles and spears, the other brought his mace down on the Amazons' bodies, pulverizing bone and flesh. Their coordination was so perfect that they seemed like a single, four-headed organism.
"To the left, brother!"
"I saw it, brother!"
Their shouting was almost ridiculous, but their effectiveness was terrifying. While the rest of the family competed to excel, the Gullivers seemed to revel in the simple brutality of working together.
The streets were a slaughterhouse. The Amazons fell by the dozens, unable to stem the onslaught of force that was the Freya Familia. From her palace, Ishtar listened to the roars of battle and the screams of her daughters being annihilated. Cold sweat ran down her back as she realized that her kingdom, her small empire of lust and power, was being reduced to ashes in a matter of minutes.
The brothels burned. The alleys filled with corpses. And in the midst of it all, Freya's children fought not as an army, but as loose beasts vying for the same prey. Each sought to outdo themselves, to leave the bloodiest mark, hoping their goddess would observe them at that moment and lay her eyes upon them.
But that same lack of unity gave the massacre a chaotic, uncontrollable air, as if Freya's fury had been embodied in multiple forms.
The Amazons cried out bravely, but their voices were silenced in seconds. The crimsonpainted ground of the district became the stage where Ishtar's pride crumbled.
And Freya, from a distance, smiled.
Her will had been clear: to wipe out Ishtar's filth quickly, without mercy, without pause. And her children obeyed her. Not out of respect for each other, nor out of loyalty to an ideal. They did so because every blow, every death, every destruction, was a bloody prayer addressed only to her.
The Goddess of Cursed Love was being razed to the ground, and the roar of the Freya Familia resounded like a sentence.
…
The Pleasure District was no longer recognizable. Smoke covered the sky like a dark blanket, hiding even the sun, and flames devoured the brothels with an insatiable appetite. The screams of the Amazons echoed through the alleys, mingling with the roar of collapsing wood and the metallic echo of clashing weapons. In this scene of absolute chaos, Lena ran crouched, close to the shadows, her heart pounding in her ears.
Her breathing was uneven, and every time she heard a nearby explosion or a muffled scream, her body trembled involuntarily. It wasn't the first time she'd felt fear, but it was the first time everything she'd ever known was being destroyed in a matter of minutes.
Lena was young compared to most of her sisters. Her slender figure, her thin arms and legs, and that barely hinted bust made her look more like a girl than a warrior. And yet, there she was, forcing herself not to fall to her knees in fear.
What he had seen minutes ago still made his stomach churn.
Aisha.
Aisha, the older sister, the figure they all respected. The strong woman who always put her body between them and danger, who spoke harsh words, yes, but laced with a firmness no one expected. Aisha, who had protected Lena more times than she could count. Now she was there, among the attackers. She wielded her giant sword ferociously, not against Ishtar, but against the very Amazons she had once called sisters.
At first, Lena didn't believe it. She thought maybe she was faking it, that she had a secret plan. Maybe Aisha had infiltrated Freya's Familia and would betray them at the last moment. But seeing her fight, seeing the look in her eyes, she understood the cruel truth. There was no doubt. This wasn't the Aisha she knew. That Aisha had been taken away, twisted by Freya's Charm.
The blow was like a dagger in the chest.
For a moment, Lena froze, her mind clouded with confusion. What was the point of continuing to fight, if even the strongest of them had been stolen? (She wasn't going to count Phryne; that thing didn't deserve to be called a woman.) But then, as if something inside her ignited, she remembered all the times Aisha had protected her. She remembered the way she'd scolded her when she'd tried to be reckless.
And there she understood.
If that Aisha was gone, if Freya had even taken away her will, then the only thing left was to honor what she valued most. And Lena knew very well what that meant: protecting Haruhime.
The Renard wasn't just the most vulnerable in all of that hell, but also someone Aisha had loved deeply. If Freya caught her, her fate would be even crueler than death. Aisha would never have allowed it. And if she was no longer there to take care of her, then Lena would do it in her place.
With that resolve, the young Amazon slipped through the ruins, using her body to squeeze through cracks and passages that none of her sisters could fit through. The noise of the battle was deafening, which worked to her advantage: the screams, explosions, and clashes of steel drowned out the small sounds of her footsteps.
In the distance, I could hear the voices of Freya's Executives. Allen roaring in contempt as his spear tore through everything in its path. Hogni laughing in a sickening tone, reciting nonsensical phrases about darkness as he attacked. Hedin hurling insults with his trademark arrogance, and the Gulliver Brothers shouting their orders to each other as they advanced like an unstoppable wall.
Lena couldn't face them, or even dream of it. She just wanted to get to Haruhime.
She moved quickly, looking for routes the Amazons weren't using, because she knew Freya members were sure to be there. Her brown skin glistened with sweat, and her hands trembled every time she had to move a burning piece of wood. Her revealing clothing, typical of her race, didn't help protect her from the heat or the splinters, but she couldn't stop to think about that.
Lena bit her lip until it hurt and backed away, taking another route.
"Focus… just Haruhime… just Haruhime…" she repeated to herself, like a mantra that kept her legs moving.
Finally, she reached the vicinity of the building where he knew Ishtar was keeping Haruhime under surveillance. The place was still standing, though shaken by the tremors of the explosions and surrounded by screams.
She slipped into a side passage, taking advantage of her slim figure to go unnoticed. Her hands were covered in dust and soot, and her throat burned from the smoke, but she didn't stop. Every second was precious.
Inside the building, the noise was more muffled, but the atmosphere was just as stifling. Lena walked through corridors decorated with crimson curtains that were now scorched, and statues toppled by the tremors. The smell of incense mixed with smoke made her stomach churn.
Turning into a hallway, she heard footsteps. Her heart stopped for a second. She hid behind a broken column, holding her breath. Two Amazons ran past, shouting that they had to protect Ishtar at all costs. Lena waited a few seconds and then stepped back out, moving forward quietly.
Finally, she arrived at the room where Haruhime was being kept. It was now empty.
Fear shot through her body like lightning. Had they already taken her?
With trembling hands, she pushed open the door. The room was dim, lit only by the flickering light of a few half-burned candles. And there, in the corner, was Haruhime.
The renart was curled up, her tail wrapped around her body as if to protect herself, and her ears were lowered.
"Haruhime!" Lena whispered urgently, running towards her.
The Renard looked up in surprise, and when she recognized her, her eyes widened. "L-Lena… what are you doing here? You shouldn't…"
"There's no time." Lena held her hand tightly. "Ishtar is going to lose. This whole thing is going to fall apart. I have to get you out of here."
Haruhime faltered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But Aisha…?"
Lena's heart sank at the sound of that name. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with determination. "Aisha... she's not the same anymore. Freya took her. Now it's up to us to fulfill what she would have wanted. And what she would have wanted is for you to live."
The words hurt her, but they also gave her strength.
Haruhime looked at her, trembling, but finally nodded.
Lena helped her to her feet. Her body was fragile and shaky, but together they started moving forward.
Every step toward the exit was a risk. The palace shook from the fighting outside, and the roars of the Amazons colliding with Freya's limbs echoed like thunder. But Lena didn't stop. She couldn't.
Maybe she wasn't the strongest. Maybe her thin body and lack of experience made her seem weak. But at that moment, her will was as firm as any of her sisters'.
She would save Haruhime. Even if she got caught later. Even if she died trying.
Because that, she was sure, was what Aisha would have wanted.
—
Sorry for focusing so much on Freya's assault in this chapter, I'll get back to Bell in the next one. I promise.