Under the weight of two full moons, the sky was burning red, and so was the world.
Ash spiraled lazily through the air, clinging to the blood on her fingers like it belonged there.
The battlefield had gone silent; the only sound left was the steady crunch of footsteps drawing closer.
"One person?" Neva whispered, as if saying it aloud might make it less true.
"Can really do this?" she muttered to herself.
Through the haze of smoke, a lone figure walked toward her, his snow-white hair matted with the blood red.
The thousands who had stood beside her minutes ago.
The thousands who were now broken and slain lay on the dirt.
"The Crimson Calamity."
"Why?" she called, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Why are you doing this?"
Dark-pink flames surged up around her, streaked with black and red.
The ground cracked beneath her as two long, crimson blades formed in her grip.
Her black hair lifted in the wind. Neva's unyielding golden eyes looked on him.
The man's eyes were closed as he walked. Only when he opened two piercing violet eyes, did the weight crushing the battlefield vanish, as if it had never been there at all.
Their gazes locked.
"Been a while, hasn't it?" His tone was a scoff, but his eyes held the shadow of a memory he clearly hated.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day I'd have to kill you, Neva."
She raised her swords, voice steady despite the pounding in her chest.
"They called me the Empress of the Sword's Edge. They named me the Calamity of Destruction."
A bitter smile twisted her lips.
"Yet here I stand, barely able to hold my ground against someone younger than me."
"We're both Calamity-ranked," she said, her aura flaring, "but the gap between us is… so vast."
The man smiled, but that didn't reach his eyes. It was a fake smile, and she knew it.
"I, Calamity of Destruction Raviel Neva Akhal," she declared, the flames roaring higher, "challenge you, Crimson Calamity Leonard Chrono, to battle to the death."
Unlike Neva, Leonard didn't flare his aura. He simply didn't need to.
He simply stretched one hand toward a half-dead soldier lying nearby.
From the corpse, threads of blood lifted into the air, writhing toward him like crimson serpents. In his grasp, they hardened, reshaping into a blade.
"Fine," he said lazily, as though humouring a child."Let's fight to the death."
Neva knew he was underestimating her. He hadn't activated his innate ability — not like a few minutes ago, when he'd annihilated thousands. But she had no luxury to complain.
Gripping her twin blades, she lunged.
Two crimson swords met one blade of blood. The ground split beneath them. The bodies at their feet ignited in Neva's flames, burning away into black ash.
Technique. Precision. Control. In every category, she was better than him... and yet she couldn't land a single blow.
She gritted her teeth and unleashed her ghastly dark-pink fire, streaked with red and black.
Leonard didn't even dodge. He swung his sword once, and the flames scattered like frightened birds.
She emerged from the dying embers and slashed at his weapon. Steel met hardened blood, and the blood broke into pieces.
Neva's golden eyes locked onto the opening. She leapt, ready to strike.
Leonard didn't flinch. His voice cut through the moment like a knife:
"Underestimate me till the end, won't you?"
The words dripped with arrogance.
He hadn't used his innate ability.
He hadn't fought seriously.
He hadn't even tried — and still, he called her the one who underestimated him.
Before she could react, the blood coating her armour tore free, rushing toward him.
He stepped back, holding the broken sword like a javelin.
The stolen blood merged with the shattered blade, forming a long crimson spear. With one fluid motion, Leonard hurled it.
It was over before she understood.
The spear tore through her chest mid-air and kept going as it slammed into a faraway giant ancient statue behind her.
The statue of her ancestor.
The pride of her bloodline.
The last glory of her crumbling empire.
Now, it too began to fall.
Neva hit the ground hard.
Pain roared through her body, and then her body dulled into a hollow absence. She looked down.
There was nothing where her chest should be. No heart. Just a gaping hole, the world visible through it.
She wasn't dying.
She was already dead. Holding on for one last minute through sheer willpower, the stubborn spark of a Calamity-ranker.
She turned her head toward the sound of stone shattering, the statue collapsing into dust.
From the start, this had been an impossible, unwinnable fight. But as darkness crowded her vision, only one thought lingered:
'Why? What could he possibly gain from killing us?'
Neva crawled as she sat on her knees. She turned back towards Leonard only to realise he was already sitting on a corpse beside her.
"I don't get it, though I failed to gain a crown; someone as powerful as you didn't participate in battle for 7 crowns. If you had participated, you may have gained a crown for yourself."
Leonard smiled as he answered,
"Funny, isn't it? You participated in battle but lacked the power to gain the crown. I, on the other hand, had the power to win the battle, yet variables stopped me."
"The messed-up concept of fate"
Neva sighed in agreement,
"Indeed, fate is very messed up. Sudden announcement of crowns, rebellion of marked, war with the Raylin Empire, and now you. It's so unfair for my empire."
Leonard looked at her and asked a question,
"Tell me, Niva. Why does the past we wanted to let go hunt us towards the future we seek? Was it a guide? Or maybe a downfall for growth"
Neva smiled as she coughed blood, then answered,
"What's with this stupid question? Why do you look forward to the future when we have to present to live in?"
"Today's present will become tomorrow's past; the past never guides us or downfall; it was just a way that we live in the present, and we never guess what might happen in the future, that's just how it is."
Hearing her answer, Leonard closed his eyes and sighed.
'She was right.'
Leonard's voice was low, almost hesitant.
"So… now that you're dying. Do you have any regrets?"
Neva's lips curled into a faint, blood-stained grin.
"None. I've always given my best. But you—" her gaze flicked over him, sharp despite the blood loss, "—you look like a man drowning in regrets."
Leonard rose from the corpse he'd been sitting on and stepped toward her.
"Raviel Neva Akhal… you passed. I've chosen you. "His tone carried no warmth. "Do you have any questions?"
Her brows knit in confusion.
"Why did you attack us?"
"To test you," he said simply. "And you passed."
Neva gave a short, bitter laugh.
"So what if I passed? What do you gain from killing me?"
Leonard crouched until his face was level with hers. His eyes were an unblinking violet storm.
"I need your help. Stop me from becoming their puppet. Change my rotten mindset. Let's burn the script fate wrote for us."
She blinked at him, unable to make sense of his words.
"What are you… even saying? I won't be in the future you speak of."
Leonard's lips quirked into something between a smile and a snarl.
"You're the one who said we never know what the future holds. And now you tell me you have none?"
Before she could reply, his hand gripped her chin. In the next instant, his mouth pressed against hers — warm and wet with her own blood.
'Did he... kiss me...'
Her eyes widened in shock. Then… the weight in her limbs grew heavier. Darkness pressed in.
'So this is death…'
But just before her mind unravelled, an impossibly familiar sound reached her ears.
"Oh my, does our princess wish to hear the tale of her ancestors again?"
Her eyes snapped open. She was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, before her stood the wrinkled, smiling face of the nanny who had raised her.
Raviel Neva Akhal was back in her childhood chambers.
Back in the past.