The battlefield reeked of smoke and iron. Luca stumbled forward, his twin sabers dragging against the blood-soaked earth, eyes locked on the figure sprawled a short distance away. Celestia. Her golden hair, once like sunlight, was drenched crimson, spreading in a pool around her fragile form.
"No…" Luca's breath hitched, his steps heavy as if the ground itself tried to hold him back. His body trembled, chest burning with grief and panic.
"Y-Your Majesty!!!" His voice cracked as he cried out, desperation clawing at his throat.
But before he could reach her, the world quaked. The battlefield dissolved into fragments of ash, melting into a haze of light.
Suddenly, laughter—clear, innocent, and bright—filled the air. The smoke was gone, replaced by the warm glow of sunlight streaming through arched windows.
