Ritsuki lifted his hand and knocked on the rotten wooden door of the shack. The sound rang oddly in the eternal hush of the swamp. After a few taut heartbeats, the door creaked open. In the gap stood a woman with long, unkempt violet hair and eyes that held wounds deeper than the mire itself. Those eyes flicked from Ritsuki to Stella, who hid behind him. Something in the sight of two children at her threshold stirred an echo from a dark, buried past.
The world before the woman faded, replaced by the cold shadow of a stone city beneath a slate-gray sky…
It was Targon, years ago. Or more precisely, what remained of the Kingdom of Targon. In another world called Axel, Targon had once been one of the three great pillars of peace alongside Sylpheed and Martha. In that world, Potential was a rare gift that flowed only in the blood of nobles, and a kingdom's true strength was measured by its Guardian Knights.
Targon had five of the strongest—a legendary unit known as the Guardians. They were Artemis the wise, Scarlet the fiery, Amethyst the serene, and the two that shone brightest:
Ellies, the Rising Sun—First Knight—whose greatsword embodied absolute power; and Violet, the Crescent Moon—Second Knight—whose grand scythe danced like the very shadow of death.
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But peace fractured. The just king died, and his throne was seized by his eldest son, Viorrno. Under King Viorrno's tyranny, Targon rotted from within. Slavery was legalized, forced labor became commonplace, and the poor were driven out or, worse, branded as "criminals" and "rebels" for the sin of their poverty alone. The king's final decree was the cruelest: a "purification" of the capital with blood.
"Why!?" Violet's voice trembled with fury where she stood before the execution dais.
"Why not simply cast them out if you think they stain the city!?"
Across from her, Ellies—her childhood friend—stared coldly at three trembling prisoners. "All trash must be cleaned away, Violet. They must be 'purified' so Targon can be noble again." His hand tightened on the hilt of his greatsword. "This is the king's command. My duty is to carry it out."
"Even when the command is wrong!?" Violet cried. "Ellies, you and I swore to protect
Targon's people—not to become a tyrant's executioners!"
"They are no longer people. They are a disease."
Without warning, Ellies drew his blade. In one terrible horizontal sweep, three heads tumbled across the marble. Blood sprayed, defiling the once-white stone.
Violet turned away, fingers whitening on her scythe's haft. "This… this is not justice."
"There's no point arguing," Ellies said as he wiped his blade. "We've discussed this a hundred times. Come—the rest are waiting at the front gate."
The scene at the gate was worse. One hundred and twenty-four men, women, and children knelt in a long line under the watch of armored soldiers. They were the next "rebels" to be purified. Amethyst, the Ice Knight, stood overseeing them—face pale, eyes skittering away from the condemned.
Ellies stepped forward, dragging his greatsword along the stones in a scraping wail. "Behold!" he shouted to the crowd forced to watch. "This is the price of opposing the king's will! May you learn in your next life!"
He raised the blade high, ready to sever the neck of an old man at the front of the line.
Violet watched, heart splintering. Memories flashed—the child Ellies pulling her from darkness; the two of them training side by side; the oath they swore before the old king. *How… how did it come to this?*
*CLANG!*
A shock of metal rang through the square. A fraction of a second before Ellies's blade fell, the crescent of Violet's scythe caught it. Sparks flared across their faces as the two knights locked eyes.
"What do you think you're doing, Violet!?" Ellies snarled, muscles bunching as he bore down.
"This is the dungeon key!" Violet shouted to the old man behind her, tossing him a heavy iron key. "Run—free the others!"
"In the name of my sword and the edict of King Viorrno," Ellies roared, shoving Violet back, "I declare you—Violet, Second Knight—a TRAITOR!"
"I don't care!" Violet flung back. "This place… this kingdom… is rotten to the core!"
Shards of glittering ice screamed toward her. She sprang away, but razor chips scored her arms and legs. Amethyst stood at a distance, hand outstretched, face wet with tears and twisted with doubt.
"Amethyst! Are you certain this is the right path!?" Violet cried.
"I-I only—"
"Silence, traitor!" Ellies cut in. "Yield now—or I will kill you here and now!"
"We know each other's strength, Ellies!" Violet's voice shook with grief. "We grew up together! You dragged me out of the dark! Of all people, you should understand why
I'm doing this!"
"That was long ago!" Ellies barked. "And this is how you repay me? With treachery?
Ungrateful wretch!"
The fight exploded. Ellies struck with a storm's ferocity—each swing enough to split the stones. Violet danced through the onslaught, her scythe whirling like a cyclone of shadow, parrying and deflecting with lethal precision. All the while, Amethyst's icy projectiles narrowed her space, forcing her onto the back foot.
Violet knew she could not win—not against two Guardians at once. Her aim was only to buy time. When she saw the prisoners begin to run from the gate, she made her choice.
"This isn't over, Ellies!"
With one final motion, she slammed her scythe into the stones. A blast of shadow hurled everyone back. When the light thinned, Violet was gone—swallowed by the darkness that had always been her ally. Only the echo of a vow lingered in the silence: *I will return… and reclaim the true Targon.*
The shack's door in the swamp swung fully open. The woman—Violet—looked at the two children before her with the same eyes she'd worn when she fled years ago: eyes full of grief, and at their depths a rebellion still burning.
"What do you want," she asked hoarsely, as if her voice had long gone unused, "…in this place of the dead?"