Chapter 121: Dear Friend

Mikoto stretched and let out a satisfying sigh as all the right bones popped. "Damn! I am exhausted!" He could use a coffee, maybe a meal or two; his stomach growled loudly, or maybe three. Though despite feeling so tired, he could also not help but feel refreshed in a way. Telluris, it was fun to fight her; he was not sure what her deal was, but she seemed alright. She was strong too, stronger than him, for now at least. It was odd; he did not get that feeling of exhilaration even from Selwyn.

Mikoto hummed as he dawned his armor, safe for his helmet once more; he was back in full armor. A shame the world would not be able to witness the bulging muscles he totally had. Mikoto chuckled, impaling Sabre into the ground as he rested both hands on the hilt, overlooking the destruction he caused from a cliff.

"The second forest I've ruined, at this rate I'll be canceled," he mused. Usually, he would have been a good Samaritan and fixed his oopsie daisy. But there was a slight problem; he could not, in fact, fix anything. The enormous and deep hole gouged into the earth could not be fixed, not even with Creation Magic, which involved creating something entirely new from nothing. Bringing something new into existence. Something told him not even restoration magic would work. "Different from Selwyn's ability, though. At least with him, Creation Magic was a good counter, but here," he pursed his lips as he brushed a strand of hair out of his face. "The scar is ingrained into reality," he deduced. "Fundamentally different from Harbinger, who would alter reality; you enforce it and employ something else within it. You're altering rules that should not be meddled with; you're a lot scarier than I thought," Mikoto muttered, gazing at Sabre intently. Unfortunately, Sabre was not much of a talker.

"What is your true name, I wonder?" Sabre, a holy sword used by countless heroes, and now he was the most recent user of the blade, and all he wanted was a cool sword. ("Oh well, questions for later,") he dismissed the blade as it dissipated into naught but red particles. ("I should probably head back, tell the others I'm fine, and get ready for the festival. After that, I'll meet with Lyra and sleep for a few days.") He yawned as his helmet came into existence on his head, once more obscuring his face from the world.

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She wore a suit of shining silver armor. The armor was intricately detailed, with raised designs and patterns that seemed to flow along the silver alloy. The armor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the surrounding light and giving her an ethereal glow. Her shoulders were protected by a set of pauldrons, large and ornate with raised designs and a prominent crest on the front. They were fastened to her armor with straps that were hidden beneath the alloy work. The pauldrons curved around her shoulders, ending in a smooth curve just past her upper arm.

She was wearing a cuirass that covered her chest and upper back. It was comprised of several overlapping plates of magical alloy, each adorned with enchantments designed to make it comfortable yet several times more durable than steel. The plates were connected by flexible straps, allowing for a full range of movement. The front of the cuirass was particularly ornate, with a large, raised motif that appeared to be a stylized bird of prey. Her arms were armored by a pair of vambraces. They formed a protective shell around her arms, reaching from her elbows to her wrists. They were adorned with patterns, similar to those on the cuirass and pauldrons. Gauntlets covered her hands. They were crafted from a similar alloy as the rest of her armor and were as meticulously designed.

Greaves covered her lower legs, crafted from sleek, polished alloy and formed a streamlined shell around her legs. Her feet were protected by a pair of sabatons. The sabatons were crafted from thick, polished alloy, with a design that resembled a combination of a boot and a shoe. The sabatons were adorned with designs that complemented the rest of her armor, and they provided her feet with protection while allowing her to walk with a graceful stride. The armor seemed to be held together by a combination of straps and clasps, all cleverly hidden beneath the intricate armor.

Within Gideon's workshop, the dwarf gave a grunt as he scanned her from head to toe. "Aye, fine work from me as expected." Lucinda could only give the man a sheepish smile as she flexed her muscles and arms to test the comfort of the armor. "But I'd expect the spawn of Octavia to want a set of armor far more extravagant." The sheepish smile turned to a strained one.

"I just prefer a simpler design," she shrugged. Being known as the spawn of Octavia already made her stand out too much. Honestly, it had always irked her how much she was just seen as that; she would bet most hardly knew her true name. But that was neither here nor there; she did not care for any extravagant set, but maybe it would not matter if she did wear an over-the-top suit of armor. A frown found its way onto her lips.

Mikoto, he was making rounds. Many were finding interest in him, even the king of Galadriel. He was even seen as a trump card, more so than even her. He fought equally with Selwyn, after all, a man she would only be able to match with Arcane Ascendance. He would be made to fight their most dangerous enemies, Dante, the strongest Inheritor, and the mightiest in all of Verdantis. Selwyn, a monster in human flesh, a conqueror of nations, and one of Vel'ryr's strongest. They were going to send a mere boy to fight them. She did not like it one bit; it was an all-too-familiar situation.

One she had found herself in many times before, even if she were a spawn of Octavia, experience was not something gained with power. She had been brought close to death more times than she could count, being sent to deal with strong enemies simply because she was the spawn of Octavia. Because of that, she was subjected to training, and with her superior physiology, that training was nothing short of severe. Being beaten within an inch of her life, having spells rained down on her, her head forcibly filled with knowledge she did not want. But all to make the perfect warrior.

Was Mikoto going to be subjected to the same kind of thing? With only twenty days left, who knows what they might want to put him through. ("With all this attention on Mikoto...I don't want him going through what I did. I won't allow it, unlike me, he is not alone.") She nodded to herself; yes, she would not let them take advantage of him. "Say, Ser Gideon, has Mikoto still not returned, even here?"

"Aye, dunno where that brat is," Gideon shrugged, not seeming to really care. "I just pointed the runt in the direction of a sword, and I haven't seen 'em since." The dwarf huffed. "You've been coming here every day asking about the brat; what, you in love or something?"

Lucinda just gave a sheepish chuckle, "Nothing like that; Mikoto is a friend." Yes, a dear one and a breath of fresh air. No gushing or putting her on a pedestal; Mikoto was simply a blunt person who would speak his mind regardless of who he was conversing with. "I am worried is all; he's been gone for five days now." Mikoto was strong, that much was clear, but even so... "What kind of sword did you even tell him about?"

"The hero's sword, the Sabre."

Lucinda's eyes gleamed with recognition, "Sabre? But I've heard no one's been able to claim the blade for some twenty years now."

"Aye, it's said to be plunged into stone. The stone itself is protected by the blade so ya can't break it or anything like that. The only way to claim Sabre is if the blade itself views you as worthy; many foolhardy knights and sorcerers alike tried to take the blade, though it ain't like none of those whelps," Gideon gave a hearty chuckle at that.

"Sabre, huh?" Despite it being quite the well-known blade used by countless heroes of the past, not much was known about what it could really do. It was a magical artifact with an ability, and that was the extent of what was known about it. "But why would Mikoto want to use a sword?" Sure, she herself used a blade, but most sorcerers would just stick to magic. Learning to use a weapon would take some effort.

"Because swords are cool," she heard a familiar but muffled voice state. She turned to spot a rather ominous individual. Pitch-black armor with some red accents and a long black cape at the lower back, along with a black helmet that obscured his entire face; there was no visor, just a single red ruin etched onto the surface. "Lucinda, what's up?" The figure gave a two-finger salute.

Lucinda furrowed her brows, her mind taking a moment to register where she heard the voice before it clicked. "M-Mikoto!?"

"That's my name," he mused as he approached the two in the workshop.

"You've been gone for five days! Where were you!? And are you fine? Uninjured?" Rapid questions were shot from his fellow spawn of Octavia as he came to a stop in front of them.

"Geez, relax, you sound like my mom," he chuckled. "As you can see, I'm fine and twice as badass." He spread his arms to show off. "I mean, just look at the drip! Take it all in; I'll be turning heads wherever I go!" He declared. Gideon merely grunted with pride as he turned to leave; he would leave the children to their own devices.

Lucinda could only deadpan at the boy, ("Yep, totally fine.") She smiled nonetheless, "You know, with how long you were gone without a trace, I couldn't help but worry; it's odd, you know."

Mikoto hummed, "You hitting on me?"

"Wha-no!"

"Relax, I'm joking; come on, let's take a walk. I need sunlight to help me stay awake." He did not wait for her confirmation as he walked away, already exiting the workshop. Lucinda watched on; as always, Mikoto was quick to joke whenever the opportunity arrived. She smiled as she followed suit after him; not long, they found themselves on the populated streets of the capital. Many residents went about with their business. Some standing by market stalls, children playing around, bards singing, and couples swooning.

The two walked side by side, a stark contrast to one another. His armor was ominous and almost demonic; hers was simple, but her angelic appearance made her stand out all the same. That was cemented with the various stares she was receiving. Some admired her beauty; others knew who she was. Either way, she ignored their annoying muttering; she always did. After a while, the constant bouts of admiration got annoying; it irked her if she were being honest.

In all the major cities, she was well known; she only ever knew peace when she ventured out into the boonies where people had little knowledge of spawns. She shook her head of the thoughts as she turned to glance at Mikoto. "There were several meetings held during your five-day absence; Aleister and the king seem to regard you highly. Even Lady Guinevere finds herself impressed by you; you've certainly made rounds."

"Hm? Is that so? Makes sense, I guess," he mused offhandedly. "The strong are always well-regarded, huh." Of course, Mikoto could care less, but Lucinda pursed her lips.

"I don't think you understand, Mikoto." A frown tugged at her lips as he threw her a glance. "Remember back at the ship when you asked me about Arcane Ascendance?"

"Of course."

"You remembered what I said, right? If you attained it, you would not know peace; this kingdom would see you as too valuable an asset." He stayed silent; he knew what she was getting at. "Though it seems that has come to pass now even without you having something like that. The king already sees you as valuable, and Aleister wants you to face our strongest foes."

"Well, I was planning on killing Selwyn anyhow, the Inheritors too. It makes no difference to me."

"Even so, this kingdom, they'll seek to use you in any way that they see fit. Even after the festival, they'll stick to you like slugs. And even now, the king's been wanting to see you for the past five days. He no doubt wants to gauge your abilities to ascertain how to improve them." She unconsciously clenched her fist; were it not for her gauntlets, then she would have drawn blood. "The kingdom, they do not care if you're a child. If you're powerful, they'll do anything in their power to make use of you."

"It was the same for you, huh?" Mikoto deduced; she nodded her head.

"Yeah," she gave a humorless chuckle. "It's been that way as long as I could remember. My earliest memories were when I was still five; I already had a strict schedule I needed to follow. I needed to study different magic branches, martial arts, and whatnot. It was ingrained into my mind, all of it. I know not even the faces of my parents; apparently, I was born with a full head of hair. When it was discovered I had white hair and red eyes, I was quickly identified as a spawn of Octavia; the kingdom itself laid claim to me, and I was placed within the castle walls." Her eyes turned blank; unsavory memories resurfaced. "I cursed many, the Gods, those who tormented me, even my mother for merely birthing me." Her eyes swept over the countless faces of the people, all diverse but with purpose. "I dislike all the attention, the gushing, and the admiration. But even so, I accept my place as the spawn of Octavia. I was granted this power, this blessing, so it would be wrong to merely curse at the world and not use my gifts for a greater purpose. I've long since decided to help others, and I've failed many times despite that. With Lady Lucy, her children, and that town. I know not what your goal is, Mikoto, but I do not wish that kind of life on anyone," she turned to him, a radiating smile adorning her face. "Least of all a dear friend."

"You're too nice, Lucinda," Mikoto stated bluntly; the girl blinked with a chuckle.

"Is that a bad thing?" She questioned.

"Nah, it's a good quality, probably the best," he complimented. "It's a rarity, you know. Hmm, wonder if I should take you as a role model."

"Wha-that...role model, me!?" She could not help but blurt out. "I-I don't know if I'm cut out to be one, to you of all people."

"Come on, you're great, Lucinda. Kindness is a good trait, and your motivation is pretty solid," Mikoto offhandedly complimented, ignoring how her face lit up with bashful embarrassment at the praise. "You should be proud to be you, Lucinda." Were he not wearing his helmet, she would not have missed an equally radiant smile.

"And you say I'm too kind," she smiled.