Sanguinella pants, blood magic crackling faintly around her. Her breath fogs the air from the sheer cold pulsing off Chiketsu. She stares Berwick down—eyes glowing with a frigid scarlet hue.
Berwick stands, his coat lightly torn, his katana lowered. He nods, silently beckoning her to finish it.
SANGUINELLA:
(softly)
I'm not just your daughter anymore. I'm a fighter.
She spins, driving Chiketsu down with an icy surge that anchors the blade beside him, not into him.
BERWICK:
(smiling)
And I'm proud. You've finally learned when to strike—and when to stop.
Her rage subsides. The glow fades. The air clears.
SANGUINELLA:
(quietly, breathless)
Thanks… Dad.
They walk inside together, no victor claimed—only respect earned.
-
Astera adjusts his dark green uniform, adorned with floral insignias. His twin swords, Chrysanthemum and Empire, are sheathed behind his back.
Nalea, dressed in a simple lilac gown, waves to him through the crowd of graduates.
NALEA:
(grinning)
Valedictorian and youngest captain to enroll in Imperial U… How do you feel?
ASTERA:
(stretching)
Like I need three months of sleep. But I'm excited. Just… not for Calculus IV.
NALEA:
(laughing)
We're gonna make it. You'll have training and captain duties, and I've got performance prep, but… it's all in the same city.
ASTERA:
(smiling)
And we'll figure it out. It's Meeresboden: Central. If there's anywhere people like us can grow—it's there.
They share a look. Not a confession. Not yet.
Just hope.
ASTERA:
(softly)
Here's to what comes next.