Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [81]
Cocolia sneered, casting a cold, disdainful gaze upon the two prisoners. Her gaze lingered on Serval a bit longer, while she spared only irritation and impatience for Venti.
"Stop, enough of this. No one here is beneath you, and unlike you, not everyone needs to prove their so-called superiority."
A flicker of anger appeared on Serval's face. Ever since that day, she thought she'd never see this woman again, yet here they were. In a world falling apart, there always seemed to be something even worse lurking around the corner.
Even just living a quiet life on her own had become a luxury, something almost unattainable.
The city's ruin was already assured, and before her stood the madwoman pressing the gas pedal straight toward the abyss.
Before Cocolia could rebuke Serval with her usual venom, Venti chimed in.
"Besides, calling us hamsters doesn't quite fit. Rats might be more accurate."
"There's no place for your mouth here, insolent bard."
Her gaze fell on the slender young poet, whose height didn't even match that of Bronya. Her disdain grew even sharper.
"I'll deal with you soon enough, but until then, if you don't want frostbite decorating that pretty face of yours, I suggest you keep quiet!"
"Oh? And the authority you mock me with—is that the same authority you swindled from your people?"
The biting sarcasm wiped the smirk off Cocolia's face, and before anyone could react, she seized Venti by the collar, lifting him off the ground with ease.
As she watched the boy struggle in her grasp, she let out a contemptuous chuckle.
"Quick with words—that's all you've got, isn't it?"
"Venti—!"
Serval rushed forward to help, and Cocolia released her hold, letting both of them fall in a heap on the floor.
She raised her chin slightly, a mocking smile curling on her lips.
"Hmph. Such a nauseating display of sentimentality. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, given your shared love of obnoxious music."
"That just proves… your taste is terrible."
Thanks to Serval breaking his fall, Venti was unhurt, though Serval herself winced from the impact. But at Venti's comment, she couldn't help but burst into laughter.
It was a laugh that brought tears, as though he'd touched a long-forgotten, untouched sense of humor.
Cocolia's face contorted in rage, her hand flashing with an icy glint as she conjured a spear of frost long enough to impale them both, sending the cell's temperature plummeting.
Just before she could strike, Bronya stepped in, grabbing Cocolia's wrist with a grip of iron, her gaze defiant and blazing with anger.
"This is an abuse of power beyond reason! Not even the tribunal would let you get away with such an act!"
Cocolia's face contorted, unsure if her daughter was simply naive or saying this to provoke her. Yet the force in Bronya's grip was unmistakable; Bronya truly didn't want to see these two die here.
Especially now that Cocolia's intentions were clear—Bronya's eyes burned with a tangible, protective fire that only served to further irritate Cocolia.
Once, she'd been just as foolish, believing her conviction alone could fix everything.
But all that… was too late now.
Cocolia fixed Bronya with a hard look before letting the ice spear dissolve. She gripped her daughter's wrist with none of her former tenderness.
"...Consider yourselves lucky you've got a few more days to crawl in the dirt. I won't end you tonight, but don't think it's over. I'll make sure every moment of your remaining days is spent in fear and regret."
Leaving these cold words hanging in the air, Cocolia turned to leave with Bronya in tow.
Yet before she could make it out—
An earth-shattering roar rang out.
The ground trembled so fiercely that even Cocolia struggled to stay upright, bracing herself against the wall.
As the tremors subsided, she muttered in disbelief.
"What did you say? The dragon… it's back?"
She almost stumbled, hardly able to believe it, before breaking into a sprint. Bronya instinctively glanced back at Venti, whose only response was to tilt his hat, offering her a smile filled with a silent promise to "wait and see."
The smile steadied her heart, though it stirred an inexplicable unease within her.
It was as though a chain that had bound her was being lifted—not a liberating feeling, but rather one of apprehension, hovering at the threshold of a freedom she feared to cross.
But this time—
Bronya took a deep breath, firming her resolve. With one last promise of, "I'll come back for you," she, too, dashed for the exit.
Beneath the faint light of the night, Cocolia's figure appeared small, powerless as she watched the dragon flaunt its power in the sky.
That dragon, infected by the Fragmentum's corruption, had tried to invade the city, but while crossing through a breach in the defenses, Fragmentum seeds had taken root in its flesh.
These parasitic Fragmentum flowers fed on the dragon's strength, blooming with an eerie crimson light visible from all over the city.
And with it came monstrous tornadoes, dozens of them forming out of thin air and slamming into the sturdy walls that the city's defenders had erected.
The impact shook the very ground beneath their feet, and the city's protective light barrier glowed brighter than ever. Were it not for the barrier's strength, Belobog might have been laid to ruin by this onslaught.
And through it all, Bronya saw no trace of worry or urgency on her mother's face.
Instead, Cocolia's expression was hollow, as if all that was unfolding before her was nothing more than a spectacle.
Bronya's confusion boiled over as she demanded:
"…You mean to just… stand here and watch?!"
No matter her cruelty, as a guardian of the city, how could she do nothing now?
The only reply was Cocolia's cold, empty gaze.
Any trace of humanity within her had been smothered, leaving behind a will that embraced destruction, devoid of emotion.
In the distance, hurried footsteps grew louder. Armored Silvermane Guards rushed toward them, led by a young officer, followed closely by a purple-haired girl carrying a petite intelligence officer on her shoulder without breaking stride.
In the face of this decisive force, people gathered, drawn together by fate.
Tonight, Belobog would undergo a transformation that would forever change its history.
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