Prologue
It felt like the end of the world.
Dark, mud-like clouds loomed above. Dust swirled between the heavens and earth, reducing visibility and scratching at her throat. The stench of blood hung thick in the air. It was hard to even breathe.
The ground was littered with bodies, humans and Inhumans alike. They lay piled upon one another, covering the earth as far as the eye could see.
The overcast sky seemed to press down from above. Dust invaded her lungs and stung her eyes. The stench of decay drowned out all other scents. Swords and spears jutted out like gravestones.
A land of endless death.
If this world was all there was, then surely it was the end of everything.
“Ugh.”
She stood among the carnage.
Being newly born, she couldn’t grasp much yet. But she knew that the humans who lay around her had used her to slaughter one another until none remained standing. And here, on this land of death, she was the last one left.
She looked down at her body. Her limbs and torso were smeared with stains, slick with the blood and fluids of both humans and Inhumans. The sticky residue crawled across her skin like something alive.
At her feet, chunks of flesh scattered in a ring around her.
“Ah… uh.”
A newborn does not know how to speak.
Yet deep within her, a seething hatred burned, an insatiable fury directed at something, a rage that urged her on. It felt like a force separate from her, thrashing inside her body.
She was an innocent being, but she harbored a hatred so fierce it felt like murder in her veins. She knew how to tear flesh to shreds. She understood that she was created for that very purpose.
A newborn does not know how to speak. But if she could put words to the feeling gnawing at her, perhaps it would be this:
If this really is a world that has ended, then maybe I’m the one who ended it.
Still the world refused to end. She passed from one set of human hands to another, drifting across the continent, until she eventually found herself in a far different place—this bed.
Aria woke slowly, piecing together the fragments of the dream. By now, nightmares like these didn’t faze her anymore.
She wondered how long she had dozed off. A sliver of light crept through the gap in the closed shutters. Blinking sleepily, she guessed the time from the quality of the air and the faint sounds from beyond the door, probably Fio, already preparing breakfast.
Morning.
She tried to sit up but couldn’t move. An arm was wrapped around her neck. Not her own, but Cecily’s. Her partner’s head rested on her shoulder, her crimson hair a tangled mess in Aria’s vision. Soft, even breaths tickled her skin.
Though Cecily always told her not to get into her bed, she had a habit of clinging to whatever was nearby in her sleep. The only one who knew about this was Aria, her partner.
“Cecily, time to get up.”
Aria gently slipped out from beneath the arm draped over her and carefully shook Cecily’s shoulder. But her partner didn’t stir. She was out cold. The faint line of drool trickling from Cecily’s slightly parted lips made it hard to believe this was the same tough warrior she usually was. And, yep, there was now a drool stain on the sheets.
“Well, I guess I can’t blame her. Yesterday was brutal.”
The two of them had only just returned to the Independent Trade City the day before.
Their journey to the Militant Nation had been chaos from start to finish. Hours of jostling in a cramped carriage had left their backs and hips aching. Along the way, they were ambushed by assassins, only to face a barrage of meetings when they arrived. Then came the so-called melee against Inhumans. And before they had time to recover, it was back on the road for another grueling trip home. The moment they arrived, they’d headed straight to the government office to report to the mayor and Knight Guard captain.
After nearly two months on the move, it was no wonder Cecily had crashed so hard she didn’t even make it to dinner.
Hannibal had told them they didn’t have to report in until the afternoon (though Aria personally thought they deserved the whole day off). But with a major summit involving the continental nations around the corner, there wouldn’t be much downtime ahead.
Slipping quietly out of bed, Aria adjusted the rumpled sheets over Cecily’s shoulder. She caught her reflection in a small mirror, quickly running her fingers through her hair to tame the mess, then swapped her nightclothes for something casual. As she made her way to the door, her gaze fell on the scabbard resting against the wall.
A narrow, deep red sheath. The one Luke had crafted specifically for her, designed to hold Aria herself.
As she stared at it, a thought crossed her mind. How much longer can I keep this form?
Aria was an Infernal Blade. A sword demon forged during the Proxy Pact War forty-four years ago, created with the sole purpose of slaying Valbanill.
Infernal Blades were born with an innate hatred for God, their murderous intent so overpowering it could sometimes take control of the blade itself. It was out of fear of this that Aria had begged Luke to craft a scabbard for her. She believed that as long as she was sealed in her sword form within that sheath, even if she lost control, its design would suppress the destructive power of the Infernal Blade within her.
Returning to this city must’ve stirred those nightmares again. The volcano where Valbanill slumbered loomed just beyond the outskirts. Feeling that God’s presence after so long had triggered her instincts as an Infernal Blade, dredging up memories buried deep.
The nightmare reminded her of her purpose. Her reason for existing. It told her never to forget.
“Oh, give me a break,” Aria muttered to no one in particular. “Even if you shove that in my face, I’m not giving in.”
She turned away from the doorway and made her way to the window. Throwing open the shutters, she let in a sliver of sunlight along with a gust of crisp morning air. She leaned out, craning her neck to glimpse what she sought.
Far beyond the city’s edge. Through the drifting ash and haze above the dense forest, the shadow of an enormous volcano stood.
“I won’t lose,” she declared, pointing her finger sharply toward it. “I won’t lose, no matter what!”
Nightmares, her creation, her purpose. It didn’t matter.
A sword made for killing? Fine. She would face that absurd fate head-on and break through it.
I am a sword to protect.
“Hmm?”
A drowsy voice came from behind, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. That same hand had been bracing against the window frame, so she nearly toppled out. Catching herself, she pulled her body back inside.
She glanced over, worried she’d woken Cecily up, to find her shifting restlessly in her sleep. The arm that had wrapped around Aria’s neck earlier was now groping blindly for her, like a child searching for comfort.
Aria’s fierce mood softened instantly, her lips curving into a smile.
Cecily probably knew about the nature of Infernal Blades. The Militant Nation had their own, so she might’ve even heard it from that Girl King. Since they’d left that place, Cecily had occasionally shown subtle signs of concern for Aria.
But Cecily never acted any differently. She never brought it up. She stayed right where she always had been, by Aria’s side, quietly watching over her.
She never tossed her into her scabbard like it was nothing. When Aria slipped into her bed, Cecily simply pulled her close. She treated Aria not as an object, but as a comrade.
And that was why Aria could keep fighting. Why her spirit never broke.
“Hmm.”
With a sleepy murmur, Cecily’s eyes fluttered open. Her unfocused gaze drifted across the ceiling, the walls, and then finally landed on Aria.
Aria gave her half-awake partner a bright smile.
“Good morning, Cecily. Welcome back.”
They had returned home.
The formation of the Imperial Federation had sent shockwaves across the entire continent. News of the Empire’s merger with the Crowd Powers dramatically reshaped the political landscape. Now controlling over half the continent, the Federation was practically declaring its dominion over the world.
In the coming days, a major summit was scheduled to take place in the Independent Trade City.
What had once been the Tri-Nation-One-City summit was now the Bi-Nation-One-City summit, also known as the Valbanill Conference.
The continent stood on the brink of upheaval.
It was mid-autumn, just one year before the Inhuman’s seal was due to be broken.
In a quiet corner of the continent, on the eve of this pivotal summit, a knight, a blacksmith, an Infernal Blade, and a demon savored a brief moment of normalcy.
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