Case 150: On a path of tragedy.

Lyra's life had been a painful contradiction.

Day after day, week after week, she relentlessly honed her swordsmanship and magic. No matter how much people revered her genius, Lyra could never be satisfied with herself.

At first, it was out of duty—merely something she was 'supposed' to do, that every other noble kid also trained at an early age, so she should, too. Then came a brief period of discovery. Lyra actually enjoyed getting better at fighting, bit by bit.

Yet, if someone were to ask her the reason she worked so hard... it would be because of a certain person.

That person had suddenly emerged before Lyra's eyes one day, then promptly became her whole life. She was charming, caring, and... she loved Lyra the most in the world.

From the beginning, Lyra had vaguely sensed the strings of fate binding that person's future, always a step away from cutting it short. Lyra witnessed the pain that person had to shoulder, the despair she had to face. But that person never stopped loving Lyra.

For her, Lyra was willing to do anything.

Silently yet stubbornly, she had been bettering herself for months and years, putting in those efforts that never seemed enough. Lyra longed for the kind of power that would make her omnipotent, so that she could save a certain ill-fated life. But as it stood, time didn't allow her such an opportunity.

''Hah...'' Lyra lightly exhaled, her breath a white mist amidst the cold.

As the heroine clutched her sword, the practice hall's interior quickly melted into itself, revealing an unfamiliar dimension. Save for the few rows of seats where the spectators sat, the scene looked like a blank, empty piece of land.

''You can begin now.'' Mia, the one who transformed the place, signalled.

The logic was simple—if Lyra were to demonstrate her full power, no arena or building could withstand it. Aside from Quasar letting out dumbfounded noises, the rest seemed calm enough.

Their gazes were all on the heroine, who was a key piece in defeating the legendary archdemon. Everyone except Quasar, Lilith, and Cecilia had performed prior, and they were more or less within expectations. However, Lyra's evaluation was undoubtedly the most crucial.

''...''

Cecilia, the final judge, solemnly looked at Lyra, her crimson eyes stirred unsettledly. Perhaps burdened by that stare, the heroine's hands instinctively trembled. It had never happened before, whether in practice or in real fights.

'Am I... nervous?'

Lyra thought, almost in disbelief, then clenched her teeth forcefully. She steadied her breath, entered a proper stance, and began to swing her blade.

She started with the simplest of sword techniques. Her sword cut through the air steadily, and despite its predictable trajectories and seemingly mediocre speed, it brought along a destructive power rivalling that of high-tier spells with top-notch precision. This mastery alone was enough to make any practitioner gawk in envy.

From then on, it only got more intense.

The moment Lyra infused magical power into her arts, Cordelia instantly erected a barrier around the observational area. Indeed, with each swing of the heroine's arms, the sky and earth wailed in pain. Massive rumbles could be felt vividly as torrents of magical force exploded after each movement.

Blaze erupted as though a volcano, searing wind tore everything in its path into shreds, while water surged high into the sky, a living tsunami. And yet, those were only half of the elements Lyra wielded.

The stature of the lone heroine standing amidst the world-ending display of magical destructiveness resembled that of a goddess before her ascension. Perhaps in the mortal eyes, she had long reached that realm.

While the others widened their eyes in shock, only Cecilia remained completely calm at this sight. She even felt a pang of pride at the girl she had managed to raise, though her willingness needed a bit of correction.

A subtle smile tugged at Cecilia's mouth as she recalled the girl's incredible growth over the years. From that timid little girl to now... a proper lady. Watching Lyra's back, Cecilia herself had also grown significantly. She no longer thought of herself as useless or not needed by anyone. It was all thanks to the heroine—the heroine that she helplessly loved.

So...

'...Please, Lyra.'

Cecilia's expression was on the verge of crumbling. In her eyes, only Lyra's dazzling figure remained. But... it lacked something Cecilia was looking for.

She waited and waited.

Yet that spark never came.

''Hah... hah... hah...''

In the end, after nearly pulverizing the dimension, Lyra returned to Cecilia's side, panting. She stood facing the blue-haired woman, who kept hugging her shoulders as if afraid to look at her.

Nevertheless, those crimson eyes never averted.

Lyra felt the words stuck in her throat. She stared blankly at Cecilia's pressed lips, at her trembling brows, a fleeting silhouette. For Lyra, it was as if her whole world had just begun to fall apart. Her heart sank, and she remained dazed for a long time.

This source of anxiety—she didn't want to admit it as her own.

''I...'' She muttered weakly between labored breaths. ''I did well... right...?''

''...''

Cecilia lowered her head. Then, with hesitant steps, she moved forward, pulling the heroine into her embrace, ''You did well, my girl.'' She whispered, stroking the back of Lyra's head. ''You truly did well...''

''Then...''

''...Yeah. Let's proceed with the plan.''

In the end, Lyra didn't dare look at Cecilia's expression.

The journey back home was shrouded in silence. Only a quiet yet grim tint remained embedded in the air, just like how it was the day Cecilia first came to the mansion. This was felt by everyone who witnessed the scene, though undoubtedly, the heroine was the one most affected.

Still, given Cecilia's approval, the subjugation plan of Astaroth was, at long last, finalized. Over the next months leading up to Lyra's birthday banquet, each member of the team began busily yet anxiously making preparations for the raid, which was set just a day after the celebration.

The military was assembled; recruited mercenaries and adventurers across the country gathered at Syrus, causing quite a stir. On the other hand, the mood at the Orleans' mansion plummeted as Cecilia's condition further deteriorated. She spent most of her days in a deep slumber, and on the few hours that she was awake, she would often collapse in a pool of her own blood.

This naturally made the people who cared for her horrified. They repeatedly expressed the intention to accelerate the attack, though Cecilia sternly rejected it every time, saying the army wasn't ready. She couldn't accept such a decision. That was no different than putting countless people at risk just for her sake.

Being the organizers of the army themselves, who knew of this fact, the team members could only swallow their worry and follow Cecilia's words.

February then approached neither fast nor slow. Syrus was soon plunged into a festive mood as the treasured heroine's birthday came closer.

This time, many would commemorate her turning a new age, but the one Lyra wanted to be by her side the most... could not open her eyes. She had promised to attend Lyra's banquet, yet her respite had lasted for days without an ending in sight.

Adorned in a glamorous dress, Lyra sat helplessly by Cecilia's sleeping figure. Her hand gently caressed the other person's cheek, feeling the fading warmth greedily.

''...Sleep well, Cecilia.''

Lyra kissed her love's forehead, then, with a wry smile, turned to leave.

Once the door reluctantly closed, only a cold silence remained in the room. Moonlight softly poured onto the sleeping woman's profile.

''...''

Slowly, those crimson eyes revealed themselves.

That night, Cecilia vanished from the mansion.