Saint Freya, Heavenly Fire Drawn

"Whatever you say."

He held the other end of the cart and stood beside the silver-haired woman. After Rita said, "Lady Bianca—happy birthday," Cecilia pushed open the door.

Under Durandal's shocked gaze and Rita's teasing expression, the two of them walked in together.

The blonde girl had already risen to her feet, staring blankly at Cecilia as she lifted the cake. Even after the woman set the plates down and looked at her with eyes full of affection, she still had not recovered.

Just then, a gentle push came from behind. With Rita's help, Durandal was smoothly sent forward several steps—strangely enough, this time she did not display the reflexive reaction that should have appeared when she was "ambushed."

Bianca Durandal Atagina met the gaze of the approaching Cecilia Schariac, their eyes reflecting one another.

Then, the blonde girl was pulled into the white-haired woman's embrace.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Snap."

At that moment, Otto lightly snapped his fingers. Then, magnificent fireworks bloomed across the night sky, shining above the stars and illuminating the heavens of a new year.

White patterns wound across the black cake. Rich caramel and sweet fresh cream came together to form the words, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY."

Chocolates were arranged in neat rows, decorating the dessert with lovely edging. Warm candlelight swayed atop the cake, lighting up the blonde girl's eyes.

"B-Birthday?"

Durandal still had not recovered. After stiffly falling into Cecilia's warm embrace, she watched as the people before her decorated the room at an unbelievable speed.

Rita arranged the tables and chairs, Cecilia unboxed the cake on the table, and Otto raised a hand to create little golden flags that hung around the room, spelling out the blonde girl's name in English letters.

"Uh, that was just a date I filled in at random. There was no need to celebrate it specifically." Durandal's voice was a little dry.

"Perhaps the date itself is not that important," Rita said, supporting the blonde girl as she led her to the table, "but the ritual of celebrating a birthday gives it special meaning."

"It is a summary of the past and a prayer for the future," Cecilia continued. "It is a day when you can make a wish even without a shooting star, a new starting point in the passage of time. So even a birthday chosen at random is worth celebrating."

Rita handed a plastic cake knife to Durandal. The brown-haired girl glanced to the left and smiled. "Caramel fresh cream cocoa cake—Lord Bishop chose it himself."

Otto raised his brows but said nothing.

However, Cecilia had no intention of letting him remain uninvolved. "Then, after shutting off Schicksal's power grid, preparing the cake, and setting off birthday fireworks, does our Lord Bishop have nothing to say?"

The blonde girl looked over as well. A trace of emotion flashed through her eyes, but she still spoke up. "This is too extravagant and wasteful, Bishop—and shutting off Schicksal's power grid—it will cause great inconvenience to other people..."

"Raise their salaries."

That simple four-word answer left Durandal speechless. "...Fine."

"All right, little Bianca." Cecilia placed her fair hand on Durandal's shoulder and gently kneaded it. "Lord Bishop wants to give you a good birthday too."

"Logically speaking, I am the last person who should say anything about this," the blonde girl said seriously. "But I think—at the very least, making decisions that inconvenience others troubles me greatly."

"Schicksal Headquarters gets a paid holiday today." Otto spread his hands. "For anyone who wants to go out, airships will make round trips every thirty minutes."

Durandal: ...

The two women beside her could not help laughing. Cecilia pinched the back of Durandal's neck and said with a smile, "Only you would dare speak so freely before Lord Bishop."

Wasn't this a very simple matter?

Durandal did not understand, but the incredibly comfortable massage from the woman behind her kept her from asking.

"All right, Lady Bianca," Rita said with a smile in her voice. "Please make another wish before the candles."

The blonde girl nodded, closed her eyes, silently repeated the same prayer as before, and then blew out the candles.

In the candlelight, she saw Otto smiling at her with an expression of understanding.

"Then..."

Cecilia sat down to her right.

"Little Bianca, you can cut the cake."

—Better not. I've really exceeded my calorie limit today.

That was what the blonde girl wanted to say, but for some reason, seeing the three people seated before her, she obediently raised her hand and used the plastic knife to divide the cake evenly.

Well... there were so many people, after all. It would not do for her to seem too reserved.

The soft cream melted on her tongue, while the slightly moist cake carried the fresh sweetness of fruit.

Sweets would make her secrete dopamine and lead to insomnia... but the lavender in the tea could calm her mood and help her sleep...

As she ate, the blonde girl wavered inwardly, seemingly trying hard to persuade herself.

One more bite. Just one.

"Click."

Durandal looked up in astonishment and saw the Bishop holding a camera, having captured her hesitant and conflicted expression.

"..."

She could not eat this cake anymore.

The blonde Durandal rolled her wrist, cracking her knuckles as she glared fiercely at Otto—but because of the girl's stunning looks, even her anger carried an adorably ferocious air.

The man showed no awareness that he was about to be beaten. He unhurriedly handed the camera to Rita, then raised his hand—

Durandal's vision blurred, and her face turned cold. When she could see clearly again, the Bishop sitting across from her had vanished. Only a mirror remained, reflecting three streaks of caramel cream smeared across each of her cheeks.

???

Then she felt an itch atop her head. Something fluffy seemed to be resting there. When she pulled it off, she found that it was a cat-shaped hair accessory.

"Bishop!"

The girl stood up, wanting to do something, but then someone took her hand. Cecilia gently patted her, as though soothing an angry kitten. "The Bishop is only joking with you—and you are not the only one."

Durandal turned her head and discovered that Rita and Cecilia were also wearing cat accessories. Caramel cat whiskers had been smeared onto their snow-white skin. The white-haired woman even had a clear fingerprint deliberately pressed onto her forehead—as though someone had stamped her.

"I'm not angry,"

Not completely angry, the blonde girl silently added before answering,

"Rather—I am shocked by the Bishop's speed—that he could get so close and act so quickly. Even you, an S-rank Valkyrie for many years, could not escape."

Wrong, Cecilia said inwardly. It isn't that I couldn't dodge—but why would I dodge?

When the Bishop acts improper, he really is... so adorable...

The white-haired woman pressed a hand to her chest, her face flushing as she recalled the sensation of Otto's fingertips tracing her cheek. She softly said, "Lord Bishop is becoming more and more formidable—isn't that a good thing for Schicksal?"

"And more and more... hmph!"

The always-mature girl finally showed a childish side. She swung her fist through the air once, clearly still somewhat indignant.

"Don't be angry. Lord Bishop—he only wanted to give you a birthday with many people by your side, a birthday where you were treated equally." Cecilia rose to her feet and led Durandal to the window. "A life like this, where I can laugh and talk happily with the Bishop every day, was once something I dreamed of."

The girl wanted to say something else, but the white-haired woman held a finger to her lips. "Shh—the second round of fireworks is coming!"

Durandal followed Cecilia's gaze and saw the sky light up once more. Silver flowers and blazing trees spread across the heavens, outlining smiling faces. The floating island beneath their feet had also activated its backup power supply. Streetlights gleamed one after another, and upon closer inspection, they had been deliberately arranged to form the blonde girl's name.

The first round had celebrated the New Year. This time... it celebrated a new life.

Rita watched the brilliant fireworks in the night sky, then looked at the two women leaning against each other. Turning her eyes, she exchanged a smile with the Archbishop of Schicksal hidden in the shadows.

Then, as though recalling something, she gently stepped back, raised the camera he had just handed her, and aimed it at the mother and daughter beneath the night sky, preserving this beautiful, picture-perfect moment.

St. Freya, An-Utu Drawn from Its Sheath (4.5k, Please Subscribe!)

"So this is Theresa's St. Freya Academy? The architectural style... feels a little familiar."

"Mm... I built it."

"???"

Cecilia and Otto walked through St. Freya Academy, chatting casually.

It was the second day of the New Year. Under Kiana's reluctant gaze, the two arrived at St. Freya Academy empty-handed, a place said to carry Cecilia's final wish.

It was funny, really. Every brick and tile of this academy had been built with Otto's assistance. Only after it was completed did Theresa come over to complain that it had been built like a medieval aristocratic academy.

What exactly had she become independent from?

Forget it. There was no need for him to empathize with the original owner over something like this.

Otto let out a long breath, his eyes calm.

The plot was only a tool. Characters were only tools as well.

Emotions born from tools were useless, because one had to weigh pros and cons, analyze gains and losses, and exercise discipline and restraint.

He should adopt the attitude most appropriate to the current situation toward the people before him based on what he encountered, rather than judge anyone rashly with the arrogance and prejudice of an observer from the past.

He was Otto. Otto, who was no longer obsessed with Kallen.

There should be no groundless indulgence, nor any irrational actions.

He viewed everything in the world equally.

Because... all of them could be actors on his stage.

In Otto's eyes now, the overwhelming majority of people possessed only personal value and utilitarian value—the former referred to the benefits their individual abilities could bring him, while the latter referred to the benefits they could bring after being used.

That way, he would not have too many expectations or disappointments. There would be no groundless clamor or demands placed upon those around him, no sorrow from being misunderstood, no pain from being struck down, no unprepared betrayals, and no spiritual dead ends.

It was pleasantly easy.

Loneliness was humanity's fate. If one did not hope for too much, life would contain far less pain. Everything he obtained was something he actively and deliberately sought, and the joy it brought was no worse for it.

Besides, little Theresa had plenty of value.

That was excellent. She was his good granddaughter.

He would continue spoiling her, just with a little less privilege.

"I have to say, Cecilia,"

Otto clicked his tongue a few times as he watched a student trying to climb over the wall to skip class.

"If this kind of education is what you had in mind—then I am rather disappointed. I remember Little Goose came here once as well, but soon voluntarily withdrew and returned to Schicksal."

The white-haired woman had wanted to say something on Theresa's behalf, but upon hearing both Otto and Durandal reject it, she could only smile awkwardly.

"Haha... isn't this meant to give the girls better memories, so they can truly fight for all that is beautiful in the world?"

"However, my girl,"

Otto gave Cecilia a helpless look.

"False beauty is poison. A little poison now and then may create a few sweet dreams, but if one is poisoned too deeply, it will bring an end to life."

"From the very beginning, the world has been about survival of the fittest and natural selection. It is neither fair nor beautiful."

"..." Cecilia thought seriously, her delicate brows knitting together.

"Do you remember what I told you in Staffordshire, England? I wanted you, after losing your memories, to grow up well. I wanted you to cherish your own life. I wanted you to live freely according to your own will—so I made you fight the undead, even if I had to guard you from the side."

"Not only did I not help you, I even criticized you when you were doing fairly well. This was for your sake, Cecilia. Before you could protect yourself, no one could guarantee that your future would truly be beautiful."

"Only with power can one make choices. That applies to you, and even more so to these children in their teens."

"St. Freya Academy's ideals were inherited from who you used to be. Back then, I taught you strength while neglecting your growth, only letting you come into contact with the outside world in 1985."

"That is why you found the outside world dazzling and vibrant, and why you hoped that other Valkyries could encounter the beauty of the human world before taking to the battlefield."

"However, the battlefield will not show you mercy because you have not enjoyed the beauty of an ordinary life. It will instead bare its fangs because you indulged in youth during the time when you most needed to work hard."

"You are warriors, the people most likely to witness cruelty. If Valkyries do not realize until they enter the battlefield that Schicksal is not an academy and Honkai is not St. Freya's childish play, that would be true cruelty."

"I think that, having experienced the Second Honkai Outbreak, you should understand this even better."

"All right, it was my fault..." The white-haired woman wanted to admit it, but Otto interrupted her.

"I never said that."

He lightly flicked Cecilia's forehead, drawing a soft cry from her.

"What I want to tell you is not that you did anything wrong, nor that Theresa did anything wrong."

"My dear girl, what you need to reflect on is your perspective and experience, not your sincerity and kindness."