The only man Brynhildr loved was Sigurd.
Other than Sigurd, she would not allow anyone to touch her body.
That was why she used flames to burn everything away.
—She spared no one.
And in the end—
She let out a miserable laugh.
Then she drove her sword into her own chest.
"I am a dangerous being."
With a trace of dejection in her eyes, Brynhildr spoke to Fujimaru Ritsuka.
—Perhaps because Fujimaru Ritsuka was of the same sex, she was able to open up about her feelings a little more.
"I want to see him."
"I want to see my beloved Sigurd, to hold him close and stay by his side, to..."
"Kill him."
An inexplicable meaning showed in her eyes—Fujimaru Ritsuka could only stare blankly.
Even knowing the legend, he still found it difficult to understand such feelings, but—
Since some things had happened, they must have had their own meaning.
"Within me, these feelings are forever surging like flames."
"Even after becoming a Heroic Spirit, this trait has been engraved into my Spirit Origin."
She was that kind of being.
—Heroic Spirits were that kind of being.
A person's life could never be explained in just a sentence or two. Even setting aside Heroic Spirits and Servants, the lives of great figures whose names remained in history could not be written down in merely three or five sheets of paper—let alone the lives of ordinary people.
So-called Heroic Spirits, so-called Servants, were more often the manifestation of one or two traits.
And Brynhildr was undoubtedly the crystallization of those final, mad flames.
She still possessed her love for Sigurd. But her intent to kill Sigurd, as well as that madness, remained wholly within this Spirit Origin.
Therefore—
"My sisters, who admire me—I can kill them. I will