CHAPTER 41: THE BATTLE OF INVICTUS (5)

As the moon hung high in the sky and the bitter cold seeped into their bones, nearly making them forget their hunger after hours of nonstop marching, none of those torments seemed to exist for those storming the fortress gates.

Carla, watching the mindless charge of the parasitized Initiates, felt torn. Torn between the waste of life and the sight of brothers and sisters from the same homeland fighting each other—both attackers and stationed soldiers proclaiming deep-rooted nationalism and the knowledge that soon, she too would have to join this puppet war, choosing a side that was not hers.

Being in the rear line, she had the "luck" of witnessing the grim spectacle before her turn to attack came, which made her steps heavier and paradoxically, her resolve stronger.

Turning to her right, she saw Margueritte and Thérèse, glowing with enthusiasm at the idea of diving into that pit.

Carla sighed. The little she could do, or would have wanted to do, was to keep those two kind ladies from joining the madness. They, who had witnessed the birth and rise of the Empire, deserved to be spared.

As if sensing the turmoil within her, Margueritte placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don’t worry, these two old ladies will protect you."

"With us, you’re safe," added Thérèse.

"Yeah, I know, you’re amazing," Carla replied, without really meaning it.

"You know what our husband always said before heading into battle?" Thérèse asked rhetorically.

" ’Courage is nonsense. You use your hands, you hit. Love is the only reason to fight. And if I don’t come back... my wives will kill me,’ "

the two co-wives recited in perfect sync, before bursting into laughter.

"Wait... that makes no sense!" Carla retorted.

"Maybe. But if you believe in it, does it really have to?" Thérèse said with a wink.

"Yeah... you’re right," Carla murmured, eyes turning to the night sky. She took a deep breath. In that moment, she swore to herself she would let no harm befall these two Ladies, even if it meant...

"Surprise!"

A familiar voice cut off her thoughts. She turned around.

It was a young woman with long violet hair tied in a bun with a simple elastic band, her irises gleaming like amethyst sapphires. She wore an elegant black suit without a tie, like an orchestra conductor. Strapped to her back, a case unmistakably shaped like a violin.

"Lady Iris... you’re here," Carla whispered.

"I didn’t expect to see you this early."

Iris didn’t reply. Her gaze remained fixed on the fortress, as if she could see through the walls and into the battle inside. She stayed silent for long minutes.

Neither Thérèse nor Margueritte dared to speak. They even found themselves tense, not knowing why their previous enthusiasm had suddenly dissolved into constant unease.

Only Carla seemed unfazed. After all, it was the second time she had felt her emotions shift so sharply.

"The first time..." she recalled briefly, then shook her head to chase the memory away.

Then, without warning, a loud crash erupted from the fortress, followed by a cloud of dust rising into the sky. Carla’s eyes widened at the sight before her.

"The wall... it’s down... That’s impossible."

Unaware of the fortress’s secrets, she had no way to understand how it had happened.

She then saw all the parasitized Initiates flooding inside, while the defending troops retreated toward the central building. Fear crept in. But before it could consume her, a single order from Iris stopped it cold:

"Let’s go,"

she said, dashing forward in the same direction as the parasitized Initiates.

Carla’s body moved before her mind caught up. She found herself running beside Iris, with Thérèse and Margueritte close behind.

When she saw Iris’s expression, Carla shivered. Despite the usual smile on her face, she felt danger. As if the person beside her was no longer the same... or was finally showing her true face.

---

At that very moment, inside the fortress, Captain Bernard was lost. He couldn’t understand how the situation had deteriorated so fast. Unfortunately, he had no time for reflection, as Gregroire suddenly appeared, emerging from the building where he was supposed to be locked up.

The moment he saw him, Bernard reacted instantly. Gregroire charged, and Bernard drew his rapier to deflect the incoming punch.

Their eyes met before they both shouted:

"Coating!"

Bernard’s sword lit up with a green glow, making it as hard as diamond, while Gregroire’s fist crackled with surging electricity.

A shockwave burst from their clash, throwing back the nearby Executors locked in combat.

Neither of them backed down—they were evenly matched. Victory would come down to technique.

Bernard unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes with his faithful rapier, while simultaneously using his Resonance to destabilize Gregroire. The ground trembled, and pillars of stone erupted to trap his opponent.

Gregroire responded by cloaking his entire body in lightning. His speed now surpassed Bernard’s. He launched a combo of punches so fast they left afterimages, each one countering the rapier’s thrusts. As the stone pillars tried to ensnare him, he feinted with a kick to push Bernard back, then brought his fists together and slammed the ground like a gorilla, unleashing a burst of stored lightning in a massive explosion that destroyed everything nearby pillars included.

Bernard tightened his grip on his blade. He and Gregroire were equal. A winner wouldn’t emerge from this fight anytime soon... and time was the one thing he sorely lacked. What few of his men weren’t under illusion were being slaughtered.

"At this rate..." he thought, gritting his teeth, before cutting off such thoughts. At this level, one moment of distraction meant death. Thinking was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

They faced each other from just three meters away—a distance that meant nothing at their level. They readied themselves for the next exchange, when suddenly...

Gregroire froze.

Bernard moved to seize the opportunity and end the fight... but then a sound drew his attention: silence.

The sounds of battle had stopped. Everyone under the illusion had ceased fighting. They looked around... and all turned in the same direction.

Bernard did the same—and what he saw shocked him.

He had expected to see the Calamity responsible for the illusion, as only its death could have broken it. But it wasn’t a Calamity standing in the spotlight.

It was a young girl, dressed in an elegant outfit as if she were heading to the opera.

"An Initiate?" Bernard wondered as he looked at her.

The girl unstrapped the case from her back, opened it, and pulled out a violin.

Her movements were so fluid and delicate that no one blinked as she prepared.

She pressed the violin to her shoulder and began to play.