[???]
"Geez, why's everyone going so crazy?"
Mirabella muttered, arms crossed as the earth beneath them trembled violently, the force of the distant battles sending shockwaves through the land. Her stance barely faltered despite the rumbling beneath her feet. The distant booms of destruction echoed through the air. Yet, her annoyance wasn't due to the instability around them—it was because she could feel it.
Lucinda's mana spiked. That ridiculous, unfathomable presence of hers surged like a raging storm, which meant only one thing.
"She's already fighting someone," Mirabella clicked her tongue, rolling her shoulders as her gauntlets. "And knowing her, she ain't holding back."
"Are you growing fearful already?" A calm, flat voice rang out beside her. Agatha, with that ever-present dull tone, walked at her usual leisurely pace, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unraveling around them. The blonde Inheritor's emerald eyes held no fear, no urgency—just her usual unreadable gaze that made it impossible to tell if she was being genuine or if she was trying to get under Mirabella's skin.
And, of course, Mirabella took it as an insult.
"The hell I am!" The blue-haired princess snapped, huffing as she jabbed a finger in Agatha's direction. "I ain't scared, blondie."
"Mm," Agatha tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. "Just cautious, then?"
"Damn right—wait." Mirabella stopped mid-sentence, her blue brows twitching in irritation. "Oi, hold on! That sounds like you're still makin' fun of me!"
"You and 'cautious' in the same sentence does seem... unnatural," Agatha mused, her usual stoicism betrayed by the slightest, almost imperceptible, curve of her lips. It was gone in an instant, but Mirabella caught it.
Her teeth clenched.
"Oh, that's it! You got a real smart mouth, you know that?"
"Perhaps," Agatha admitted without hesitation. "But should we come across an opponent, heed Victoria's words. Don't use Arcane Ascendance immediately. I know you're eager because it's a flashy transfor—"
"I ain't a kid, damn it! I know how to use it properly!" Mirabella interrupted with a sharp glare. "Give me some damn credit, would ya?"
Agatha only shrugged, unbothered by the outburst.
"Hm, nice to see you're back to your usual self," she mused, her tone still neutral but carrying the faintest hint of relief. "You seemed the most affected by Mikoto's words."
Mirabella stiffened.
"Don't remind me," she grumbled, her fingers clenching slightly before she crossed her arms. "That bastard... I'll make him apologize when I see him."
Agatha hummed in response, her gaze distant. "Seems you haven't given up on him."
"Che! 'Course I haven't!" Mirabella scoffed, clicking her tongue. "That idiot's got problems, but it ain't like I don't get it."
And she did.
Despite how much he pissed her off, despite how she wanted to grab him by his stupid armored collar and shake him until he stopped acting like a damn idiot, she understood.
Mikoto was their age, human, and burdened with things none of them fully grasped. The weight of it had to be unbearable. And yet... he wasn't the type to crumble under pressure. She knew that better than anyone.
Mirabella turned her head, watching Agatha's expression.
"You think the same, huh?"
"I do."
Mirabella smirked, a flicker of competitive spirit lighting up in her eyes.
"Though, I'm getting that apology first," Agatha added nonchalantly.
Mirabella's expression instantly soured.
"Hah! Don't kid yourself, blondie!" She jabbed a thumb at herself. "If he's apologizing to anyone first, it's obviously gonna be me!"
"Hm. If you say so."
That damn 'hm' again. That patronizing, smug 'hm' from Agatha's unbothered lips made Mirabella's brow twitch.
("Tch! Obviously that idiot Mikoto's gonna come to me first.")
After all, she had history with the bastard. He was the one who told her:
"Doesn't seem all that bad; this Mirabella seems like the best."
And he had called her cute.
Her face suddenly warmed. She fiercely shook her head, as if physically trying to dispel the thought entirely.
And, of course, Agatha saw.
A dry stare. An unimpressed gaze. A slow blink.
"Indecent thoughts, huh."
"W—what!?" Mirabella sputtered, her face turning a much brighter shade of red. "H—hell no! Y—you damn pervert!"
Agatha didn't flinch.
But then, a small, glint appeared in her emerald eyes.
"But still..."
She suddenly changed the subject, turning her gaze toward the distant chaos. Tremors continued to shake the land.
"If you don't mind my asking," Agatha began, "why are you participating in this festival?"
Mirabella blinked. "Hah? Why you askin' that now?"
"Just curiosity."
Mirabella frowned, running a gauntleted hand through her untamed mane of blue hair.
"Tch, I dunno," she admitted. "When it was discovered I was an Inheritor, I just kinda went with everything. I guess it's based on some loose sense of duty. I don't really care about impressin' my old man or winning for the country I may rule in the future. Shit, I don't even know what I'm doing here."
Agatha hummed in mild interest, her eyes studying Mirabella with a curiosity she hadn't quite acknowledged before. Unlike most of the combatants present in this grand festival, Mirabella did not appear to have some lofty ambition, no noble cause driving her forward, no grand philosophy shaping her actions. She wasn't fighting for honor, for power, or for the recognition of her name. And yet, she had still chosen to participate in the Festival of Octavia.
That fact alone was enough to pique Agatha's interest.
Her instincts whispered that Mirabella's true motivation lay somewhere beneath her brash exterior, likely tied to a certain boy who seemed hell-bent on never revealing his face to the world.
( "I wonder… does she fancy him?" )
The thought passed through Agatha's mind aimlessly, unbidden yet oddly persistent. Mirabella was as reckless as she was sharp-tongued, yet whenever Mikoto was involved, she exhibited flashes of rare vulnerability—frustration, embarrassment, irritation, and something else, something less obvious. Few people could fluster her quite like he did, and Agatha had to admit, watching Mirabella get tangled in her own emotions whenever Mikoto was mentioned was comedic, to say the least.
Of course, lurking beneath her amusement was a more complicated, less humorous feeling.
Agatha shook her head, shoving that particular train of thought aside. Now was not the time for such things.
"I see, that makes sense." Her voice was neutral, yet contemplative. "Most people here have a clear goal—some conviction driving them forward—but it seems you and I are in the same boat."
Mirabella quirked a brow at that, tilting her head. "That so?"
Agatha gave a slow nod. "Though I was the former future head of House Gregory, I never really cared much for serving my nation. Suppose the only reason I'm here is to get stronger." She trailed off briefly, then, after a beat, added with a touch of sardonic amusement, "And, of course, to thoroughly irritate my father by showing him how superior I am."
Mirabella let out a sharp snort, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Didn't think you were the rebellious type, blondie."
Agatha's lips twitched slightly. "If I acted more like a fool—much like yourself—would you have been more inclined to believe me?"
Mirabella scoffed, clicking her tongue in mock offense. "Bastard, che."
Yet, for once, her usual temper didn't ignite. There was no immediate explosion of frustration, no playful threats of violence, no gritted teeth or flared nostrils. Perhaps it was because she could tell that Agatha's words weren't meant to provoke this time.
There was no malice.
No challenge.
Just dry wit and an understanding.
Mirabella exhaled through her nose, glancing toward the sky as if searching for something she knew she wouldn't find. After a moment, she murmured, "Maybe I should take a page outta your book. Pissing off my old man might be fun."
Agatha hummed, crossing her arms. "Hm. Do you dislike him that much?"
Mirabella hesitated—not because she was unsure of her answer, but because it wasn't a simple yes or no.
"Not particularly," she admitted, shrugging. "Guess you could say I just don't care about him, really. After my mom passed, that guy never really gave me the time of day. I was never any good with basic spells before Mikoto came along, and all I had—still have—going for me is destruction."
There was no anger in her tone.
No bitterness.
Just apathy.
"Because of that, he spent all his time around sis. She could use any type of magic easily, not to mention she got a magic artifact and was compatible with a divine one. She was always so much better than me."
Agatha studied her for a moment, then let out a small chuckle—dry, humorless. "And yet, despite that, your relationship with your sister remains strong."
Mirabella grinned, though there was something hollow in the expression. "Guess so. Can't say the same about you, huh?"
Agatha exhaled through her nose, glancing at the ground. "No. My father was the opposite of yours—too involved, too controlling. He wanted my life to proceed according to his exact specifications, and any deviation from that was considered a failure."
Mirabella clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Looks like we're too similar. Blegh."
She stuck her tongue out, making a disgusted face.
Agatha smirked. "Seems so."
Then, as if recalling something, Agatha tilted her head slightly. "That reminds me. About Mikoto, do you—"
"WATCH OUT, YOU TWO DUNDERHEADS! JUMP AWAY!"
The shrill, panicked screech rang out from above, shattering the moment entirely.
Agatha's instincts screamed at her, a surge of adrenaline igniting her veins as the unmistakable sound of something plummeting from the sky reached her ears.
Fast. Too fast.
With zero hesitation, she snatched Mirabella by the shoulder, yanking her back as her body launched back.
The earth exploded where they had been standing mere seconds ago.
A violent shockwave erupted outward, tearing into the terrain. Chunks of obliterated rock and dirt shot out in every direction, some pieces nearly the size of a small boulder.
Mirabella cursed, raising an arm to shield her face as the dust and debris clouded her vision.
"What the hell!?" she blurted out.
Agatha, standing beside her, narrowed her eyes. "We were too lax."
Her mind raced, assessing the situation in an instant.
("I couldn't sense any mana. We left the general with the Inheritors, and Victoria mentioned that Astrid and General Mai were likely facing Amaury and Emilia Von Auerswald.")
("Meaning this is—")
The dust shifted, forcibly An unnatural gust of wind swept through the area, tearing through the haze like an invisible blade, a figure emerged.
A titan of a man, clad in black armor that seemed to devour the light around it, adorned with jagged red engravings. In his gauntleted grip, a gleaming blade gleamed black. His mane of jet-black hair swayed in the wind, framing a face that was sharp.
And then there were his eyes.
Red and piercing,—zeroing in on them like a beast surveying its prey.
"I grew tired of waiting," his voice rang out, smooth yet edged. "This battlefield offers many worthy sport."
A pause and a slow smirk.
"But none shall satiate my hunger like him." His gaze darkened. "But before the main course… appetizers shall suffice."
Selwyn Von Auerswald stood before them.