“Big Sis!”
A haze clouded Celin’s mind, dulled by agony from her fractured bones and excessive bleeding.
Though she didn’t want to accept it, as defeat and death loomed over her, Celin lifted her heavy eyelids to hear a longed-for voice she never expected to find in such a place.
‘… Is that voice, could it be?’
Her vision was blurred and unfocused. Squinting, Celin desperately searched for the owner of the voice.
Someone clad in armor with a blood-stained sword entered her distorted view.
A faint blue; that familiar color made Celin shudder as she was gripped by Aria.
“Plona.”
At Aria’s whispered name near her nape, Celin finally realized she hadn’t been mistaken.
Her heart, struggling to keep beating, thumped fiercely.
Her foggy mind began to clear, focusing as her sight sharpened.
She spotted a familiar sword hanging down below. It was unmistakably a Knight’s sword.
Celin struggled to raise her gaze. There was a girl whose light blue hair bore waves, and her face was just like what Celin remembered.
“P… Plona?”
She was alive. She was alive!
Celin felt joy swelling inside her.
She had thought for sure she was dead. After all, Cardinal Benelian Lior himself had declared her death—no, her execution.
Though they weren’t particularly close since she was just a junior colleague, Celin had cared for Plona deeply.
No one from the Randell Branch hadn’t cherished her. With her sun-like smile and dazzling talent, Plona was a symbol of hope itself.
Of course, there were those who envied her for being the youngest Knight and a promising next-gen talent, but that was mostly the chatter of those who had no direct dealings with her.
Given the nature of the Knights’ organization, they had to maintain a formal demeanor, but Celin considered Plona more than just an ordinary subordinate.
Wasn’t she getting the chance to witness the growth of a girl who would undoubtedly leave her name in history?
Knowing her comrade, with whom she would have her back on the battlefield, had talent was something to be pleased about as a Knight.
So when the rumors spread that Plona had been executed by the Inquisition, Celin was utterly shocked.
Plona, accused of betraying humanity? She defected to the vampires?
Though young, she was still a girl with the spirit of a Knight. If she were to die fighting on the battlefield, so be it. She couldn’t just whimsically die from such disgraceful charges.
But Celin couldn’t bring herself to deny reality until the very end.
While she screamed it couldn’t be true, Celin had come to accept Plona’s charges.
Before taking her long leave from the Luminous Kingdom, the vacant expression the girl had shown made her wonder if it could truly be so.
On the day Celin accepted Plona’s death, she recalled the last glimpse of Aria she had witnessed.
Vampires and humans can never coexist. Even if she hadn’t killed anyone yet, the Progenitor of Vampires must die.
Celin never thought it was wrong to accuse Aria.
It was hard to believe that such a seemingly kind woman could turn into a major catastrophe for humanity, but after all, one cannot understand the essence just by its appearance.
As it turned out, what Aria had confessed was indeed true, so Celin believed she had done the right thing as a Knight.
But when news came that Plona had been killed shortly after pursuing Aria’s tracks—betraying humanity and siding with the vampires—Celin couldn’t help but mull it over again.
Had she really made the best choice? Was there no better way?
Celin quietly recalled Aria’s last image, where she was begging to be spared while living off the satisfaction of animal blood.
Even if there was no reason to let go of the Progenitor, Celin didn’t think Plona was the kind of girl to so carelessly abandon her duties as a Knight.
But what had Plona seen in Aria? What had she witnessed that such a bright and sincere girl met such a tragic end?
If Plona, who appeared bright but never allowed her heart to be open to just anyone, had opened up to Aria that quickly, then perhaps there was something about Aria that Celin hadn’t seen.
Indeed, Aria had been a warm and kind woman at the orphanage. That’s why Celin had doubted her own ears when hearing Aria’s confession at first.
Yet what if, just perhaps, what she witnessed while enjoying her simple life wasn’t just a mask or an act, but her true self?
Celin suddenly realized she didn’t know much about either Plona or Aria.
Though she upheld the Knight’s code, could she have produced a better outcome? Her faith in the absolute measure of justice was wavering, and that endless agony tormented Celin.
Even today, as she reunites with Aria, now transformed on the battlefield, she could not stand tall and proudly acknowledge that her accusation was correct.
‘But surely, it was a false rumor.’
Since the possibility of the Progenitor’s survival had resurfaced relatively recently, doubts began to arise that the Inquisition’s reports about Plona’s defection and punishment might have been fabricated by the vampires.
The Cardinal couldn’t have deemed such a punishment true based merely on one person’s report, so from the Palace’s perspective, there was likely enough reason to suspect Plona’s betrayal.
Because of this, Celin couldn’t dare question Plona’s death; yet, look here, Plona was very much alive!
Indeed, the claim that Plona had abandoned her Knight’s duties to join the vampires was absurd.
Had Celin’s mind been just a bit clearer, she might have noticed something odd long before.
If the allegations against Plona had indeed been entirely false, then why had the vampires chosen to spare her?
What had Plona been up to for the three years of silence, only to suddenly resurface during the war between the Duchy and the Allied Forces?
Why did Plona still call Aria ‘big sis’, and why was there no animosity in Aria’s answering voice?
There had been plenty of clues to realize it.
Yet, due to her muddled consciousness from her injury and the joy of confirming Plona’s survival, Celin couldn’t immediately conceive the most plausible yet most despairing possibility.
“She is—”
“Big Sis! Are you hurt?!”
Plona’s urgent voice drowned out Celin’s struggling words.
Charging in like a chilling wind, Plona stopped before Aria.
Though the Progenitor of Vampires stood right in front of her, Plona’s Knight sword hung limply in her hand.
Her gaze and demeanor were completely focused solely on Aria.
This couldn’t be real. A Knight like Plona wouldn’t be casually chatting with a vampire in the middle of a battlefield.
“I’m fine, so there’s no need to fuss.”
“But strong Knights are pretty tough… Oh, wait, senpai.”
As Aria playfully tapped Celin’s shoulder like showing off a trophy, only then did Plona’s gaze shift toward her.
It looked as if she had just noticed Celin’s presence after seemingly ignoring her.
However, the direction of her surprise differed utterly from what Celin had expected.
“Big Sis, did your senpai attack you?”
With a voice reminiscent of the sun, yet icy cold—far from what Celin could have imagined—her neck creaked at Celin’s reply.
That’s when Celin noticed Plona’s once autumnal eyes had turned bright red, like blood.
“P-Plona… you… you’re a vampire?”
Celin’s arm trembled, having lost her wrist.
This wasn’t what she envisioned. She had wished her junior was alive but never in this form.
But no matter how many times she blinked her dimming eyes, Plona’s bright red gaze refused to fade.
“Ugh!”
Sudden, excruciating pain shot up near her thigh, making Celin grimace.
Lowering her trembling gaze, she discovered a sword embedded in her thigh.
“Could you please stay quiet for a moment, senpai? I’m having an important conversation with my big sis.”
Celin froze, unable to catch up to reality.
Her tone was calm and steady, as if they were discussing the weather.
Plona’s demeanor was so natural that it took Celin a while to comprehend that Plona had just stabbed her in the thigh with her sword.
“I’m fine, you see. And don’t waste blood, Plona.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, big sis. I just can’t leave someone who aimed a sword at you unscathed. By the way, do you want some now?”
That too-familiar grin. A sincere gaze that mismatched the conversation accentuated the distortions even more.
Celin tightly shut her eyes. She didn’t want to understand, yet she had no choice but to accept it.
The junior that Celin had longed for was dead.
Everything she cherished turned to dust, leaving behind a vampire that had succumbed to drinking blood, forsaking the conviction of a Knight and her dignity as a human.
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