Was it his illusion that his feet were shaking as he took a step forward? The weight of his body sank as he moved, and he felt like he would drown. He didn’t seem to be stepping on the floor, stepping on it, or anything. He had to go. Move. Move his feet. Only the sound of his rugged shoes scraping the floor was the sign that he was walking.
──Mileia, please. I beg you to stay safe.
The corridor leading to the library was quiet. He should have known it all, but it looked like a place he had not known before. The urgency made everything seem unfamiliar. The softly frozen air flowed in from where he was going. Luciano’s hair stood on end. It was unusually cold. Feeling the smell of blood in the wind, the colour on his face quickly faded. As he approached, the smell of blood became stronger. Unknowingly, his legs sped up.
The cause was found when he turned the corner. The aristocratic man who usually managed the library was lying face down in the corridor. A pool of blood circled him; deep crimson red. There was so much, it was hard to believe a human had that much in their body.
His boot dropped in the red puddle. Luciano slid out his sword from its scabbard and rushed towards the library. The first man he encountered, he slashed reflexively. He was a knight of Armenia. He stabbed the end of the sword into the moaning man’s neck. In the wake of his killing, another knight of Armenia appeared, but Luciano confronted him. His blood was rushing. He was going to kill everyone who blocked his way.
“What, this guy, with such a slender arm… It’s the strength of the prince’s sword!”
“Okay, don’t kill me? Raymond told us to catch you alive.”
‘Gyaa.’
He was killed without hesitation.
It had been ten years since he started practicing the art of the sword. Luciano was still young but much stronger than the knights of the army who had been training for the same amount of time. His innate talent and his tireless discipline made it so. When he swung the sword, he would aim with lethal accuracy at all the vital points. There was nothing else but that.
Luciano stepped forward, the menace in his voice dripped of the Devil. While lowering his torso and slashing the man ahead him, he simultaneously dodged the sword of the man next to him. He drew his dagger and with his free hand, struck the hilt, and changed the swords trajectory back.
The two of them were slaughtered together. His leg slipped on the blood of the enemy, but he managed to stab the knight whilst on the verge of falling. Luciano reached out his hand, kicked the knight’s leg, upset his balance, and slashed his neck. He didn’t know how many people were tensely waiting to pounce him, holding their breaths for an opportunity.
Luciano’s arms and legs were cut, but he didn’t feel any pain, probably because the rush of frenzied blood from his head to torso, to limbs, excited him. His breathing accelerated and his shoulders moved violently. He was dizzy, perhaps because he had lost too much blood, but he couldn’t fall until he went to his sister.
“I’m surprised.” It was Raymond who popped out from behind the cluster of knights of Armenia. Luciano’s eyes looked extremely ugly.
“Prince Luciano is strong. Um, one, two, three … Yeah. Eight sacrifices. That’ll do it.”
“A little country like Serrat killed a knight of the Millennial Empire. Do you know what this means?”
Luciano said nothing, Raymond with golden brown hair lifted his mouth.
“Ah, judging by your face. You’ve noticed. Teges, that second weakest nation is closing in on us.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“That’s quite a brave thing to say. But there is no way you can kill me. I am the glorious Prince of Armenia. Though, I can’t say the same for you…Fufu, I’ll give you a gift.”
As he said that, he thew a strand of long golden hair at Luciano. The fluffy texture and the tied ribbons were familiar. Luciano glanced at his and lost his words.
Raymond looked at him, and slowly uttered. “Mileia was already injured when I came here. The poor thing. Beaten to a pulp and broken…to the bone. How terrible, it must have hurt like hell. Call her. She also wants to hear her brother’s voice. Come on, let’s reassure her.”
From the pit of his stomach, Luciano could not help but cry out loudly. “Mileia! It’s me! Mileia, please respond to me…Mileia!”
“…Big brother…” A voice relatively close responded. It was a small, weak voice. As soon as he heard the strained voice, which must have been squeezed out, tears began to drip from Luciano’s violet eyes. “Mileia, are you injured?”
“It hurts. It’s … painful. Big brother, … save me…”
“I’m here to save you,” Luciano furiously nodded over and over again, even though she could not see. Droplets of water fell from his vexed eyes and slid down his cheeks.
“I came here to save you. I’m coming to get you now. So wait for me. I’m coming.”
“I’m sorry big brother, but times up.” A grinning Raymond raised his hand toward the library and Mileia’s voice faded.
When he stared at him with all the hatred he could muster, Raymond spoke as if he were reading a poem. “Beautiful brother-sister love. Love is good. I like love, too, you know?　Prince Luciano, I won’t add salt to your wounds. I have a younger sister too, and I’m still a sister-minded brother. It just so happens that Mileia, and my sister are the same age. I don’t consider her a stranger to me. Besides, if I don’t hide you, you’ll die. Teges is here to destroy Serrat. Now let’s put down our swords.”
“Who did this to Mileia! Bring her here! I will kill you!”　
Raymond shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“Prince Luciano, lay down your sword and be obedient. If you do not resist me, I will take good care of little Mileia, and I will also treat you. But if you refuse, I will throw into your hands not her hair, but her pretty arms or her little legs.”
“You are going to cut off my… sister’s arms?”
“If you kill any more of my knights, it’s natural that you deserve to be punished. I’m sure it hurts to be slashed… Poor thing. Cute, cute Mileia is perfect.”
── If I had been by Mileia’s side the whole time to protect her…this kind of thing.
In front of Armenia’s knights who surrounded him, Luciano threw down the sword in his hand.