A/N: Just went and played Three Hopes again for the fourth time LOL. I'm too addicted to this fandom I still want more content huhu. Anyway, thank you for the new favs and follows! Welcome aboard this ship ^^ This chapter, as the title says, will fly over the rite and also introduce a very...long-awaited character that I've seen numerous people asking about huhu.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as always! The invite code to our humble fire emblem fanfic discord is here as usual: u89gs745fn

[White Clouds]

Chapter 22: The Goddess' Rite of Rebirth

It had been many moons since she'd last stepped into Professor Hanneman's study. Now that she was here again, her initial impression about the said man had not changed. He was a peculiar scholar, too nosy and pushy for his own good. Not to mention, he was enthusiastic about topics regarding the Goddess or the mysterious appearance of crests over the past centuries; Satiana had little to no interest in such dour concepts.

"You have done a great job leading Satiana here, Linhardt. As your teacher, I am proud of you," Hanneman spoke, hands rubbing Linhardt's shoulders.

It was probably just her imagination, but Satiana saw large, glittering petals floating out of his head as he beamed at her. There was nothing scarier than a mad experimenter, in Satiana's opinion. She shied away from his blazing gaze, choosing to focus her attention on a random piece of paper on the floor.

"Professor Hanneman, please try to calm down." Linhardt cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. "Satiana is here to help us with our research. We are not here to press her for information nor coerce her into doing something she does not wish to."

Hanneman blinked twice before he rubbed the back of his neck. "Of course, Linhardt. I am aware of that. Besides, someone already reminded me not to mess with her, I mean, ahem!" He smoothed over his mistake with a cough. "A-Anyway, I would like to extend my utmost gratitude towards you for choosing to spend time with a boring, old scholar like me." He turned towards Satiana, who was sitting in a chair in the room's corner. "Please, take your time. I would love to hear about your story."

Satiana's gaze trailed up and down, dissecting every tick and twitch. After a full minute of silence, she glanced towards Linhardt. With a curt nod, Linhardt gave her the extra push to unseal her frozen lips. She breathed a sigh, preparing herself before she finally found her voice. "Professor Hanneman, before I tell you my story, I would like you to promise me something."

"And what would that be?" Hanneman asked.

"Swear yourself to secrecy. This…research that you and Linhardt have been engaging in. If the world realizes a body can hold two crests, I can only imagine the horrors that would occur. Greedy nobles will spend their fortune to fuel tragic experiments on their children. The importance of crests in our society will only be elevated and I'm sure no one wants that. Well, maybe the church does, but you know what I mean," Satiana spoke on auto-pilot, fingers fidgeting with the loose strands of her uniform. "Anyway, please promise me that whatever I tell you today stays only between us."

Hanneman bent down onto his knee in front of Satiana and nodded, placing his hand on top of his chest. "I swear on the name Hanneman von Essar. As a prominent figure of crestology, I will not allow my curiosity to harm the bereaved members of our crest-ridden society. Never again shall I stand aside as I see someone fall from grace because of our world's obsession with power and authority."

Satiana winced in response to Hanneman's declaration. "Woah, okay. Since when was this so serious?"

Hanneman only chuckled at her as he twirled his mustache around with his index finger. "Don't mind me, Satiana. I'm just showing you the respect you deserve." He walked back towards his desk and sat down on the chair. Folding his hands on top of the table, he smiled at Satiana. "Now, whenever you are ready, I would like to hear details about the so-called crest experimentations you have suffered through."

Linhardt stood against the wall, leaning his left shoulder on the giant bookshelf in the room. He folded his arms across his chest and listened to the following conversation.

Satiana didn't know where to start. She needed time — no, scratch that. She needed to breathe first because telling Hanneman her story meant reliving the years she spent in solitude underground, lying on the cutting table with blood pooling out of her open wounds. She hadn't even spoken a word yet and already the anxiety was soul-wrecking.

"I don't know the exact mechanics of the so-called crest experimentation. However, I can tell you what they…did to me," Satiana spoke at a grueling, slow pace. She glanced up at Hanneman for a moment, noting the way his smile was warm and inviting.

She took a deep breath and began sinking inside her memories, recalling every detail of the tragedy. "First, there are two major components to the experiment. One, the use of crest stones. Two, the blood of crest-wielders," Satiana began in a shaky voice.

"No need to rush, Satiana. We have all day." Hanneman's smile widened. "Take your time."

She swallowed, shaking her head. "Y-Yes, I know. Anyway, as you already know, crests are inherited through blood. Therefore, only those with certain bloodlines flowing through them can withstand the crest's powers." She clasped her hands, popping the veins outwards. "So…you need to partake in blood reconstruction surgery in order to live with a crest inside of you."

"Hm…" Hanneman rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. "I see."

Satiana's eyes grew unfocused. "T-Then, in order to change your blood to fit the needs of the crest you are supposed to be implanted with, your body is cut open. I mean that literally. Like with a knife or dagger. Whatever you have at hand." She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes shut. "You risk dying from blood loss if you just shove a dagger inside someone's abdomen. So the experiment only works if they cut you open, well, very slowly. Little by little."

Her head drooped down to her fists, and she huddled in on herself, shoulders quaking under the tyranny of the nightmares plaguing her thoughts. "A-And then, they pour someone else's blood inside of you. It hurts like hell. That's an understatement, by the way. It's like…like a fire erupted inside of you."

She felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she whipped her head up. Linhardt stood in front of her, with an inscrutable expression on his face. She glanced downwards and noticed the small cup of tea he was holding in his hands. The aroma reminded her of fresh herbs and she took the cup off his hands.

She breathed, letting the sweet scent soothe her bundle of nerves.

"I vomited for days. I fainted many times, but they wouldn't stop. They'd continue performing those stupid experiments on me and my body would reject it every single time. Eventually, they gave up on the blood-surgery process altogether and skipped a whole step, shoving a crest stone inside of me." Satiana chugged down the contents, letting the warmth seep underneath her skin. It distracted her focus for a moment, giving her room to sigh. "I blacked out from the pain. I don't know what happened afterward, but from the expressions of the mages who experimented on me, it seemed like I had either vomited out the stone or cut myself open in reflex to throw the object out of my body."

Satiana placed the cup down on the table beside her.

"Of course, there were many failures. Many died in the process. Some even turned into…well…monsters. I-I don't know what happened, but they went insane and before I knew it, they had morphed into beasts. I know I sound like I'm crazy, but you have to believe me." She lifted her teary eyes up to meet Hanneman. "No one should ever have to go through such pain. Out of the hundreds and thousands of children, only two or three ever made it out alive. And even then, they didn't survive unscathed by all the pain and trauma."

She felt a lone teardrop spilling from her swelling eyes and she rubbed it away with her sleeves. "I'm sorry. That's all I know. Maybe Lysithea's experience was different. We try not to talk about it with each other."

There was a lull in the conversation, during which they all seemed to understand that no words could ever appease the feelings of the victims. Linhardt was staring at the floor, while Hanneman had his head buried into his hands. An uncomfortable miasma settled over the room as each inhabitant brooded over their thoughts.

Satiana eventually sniffed, breaking the silence. "Um, sorry. I don't know if I helped you at all—"

"No, please, no. Do not apologize for anything," Hanneman interrupted her, and she flinched at the amount of bitterness in his voice. Hanneman lifted his head up and met her watery orbs with a forlorn look of his own. "I'm sorry. What you went through. I know more than anyone how obsessed nobles can be with having a crest-born child. However, to think it went to the degree of…of such inhumane torture. I dare not fathom what you went through." Hanneman bowed his head at a sharp angle, forehead almost flat against the table. "I sincerely apologize for making you relive such painful memories. You were very brave, Satiana. I cannot thank you enough for your insight."

Satiana rubbed her eyes again with her fingers. She blinked the remnants of tears out of her eyes. "N-No, professor. I didn't do anything."

"You've done plenty enough, Satiana." Hanneman then gestured towards Linhardt with a wave of his hand. "Linhardt, I want you to gather all the books in the library that have to do with medieval medical procedures. Anything that involves blood transplants. Also, if possible, books on crest stones and their uses. I doubt Lady Rhea has given us access to them, but we can try to see what is available for now."

Linhardt nodded. "Alright, professor. I'll be back soon."

The door to the study closed behind her and Satiana jumped at the noise. She was on high alert, nerves jittery and sweat pouring down her face. She puffed a long breath of air and kneaded her palms. Wiggling her toes, Satiana attempted to release the tension inside of her.

"Satiana, I promise you, I will try my best to find a cure for Lysithea's condition. From what I heard, it seems the experiment has shortened her lifespan," Hanneman continued. "I have spent my whole life in earnest pursuit of the truth behind the phenomenon we call crests. Many lives have suffered because of its existence, while others have been destroyed because of their lack of crests. I have lived until this day to figure out how I can help such victims of our wicked world with my knowledge and prowess. You have helped me further my cause today. I must thank you again for that."

Satiana perked up at his words. "Professor Hanneman, you speak on a very personal level when you talk about the current crest-ridden state of Fodlan. Will you be able to tell me more about your experience?"

Hanneman blinked. "Hm? You mean my experience with crests?"

"I don't mean your research, by the way. I don't know how much Jeralt has told the Church, but I have lived my life far away from the influence of the rest of Fodlan."

She was suddenly reminded of Edelgard's words. That there was an enemy beyond the dark mages that slithered in the dark. Satiana had been occupied with Lord Lonato's rebellion and the exposure of her existence to Felix and Sylvain that it robbed her of the opportunity to interrogate Edelgard about her intentions. Even now, Edelgard seemed to escape from her knowing eyes and ears, always hiding away from her.

Edelgard told her to explore Fodlan for her own sake and she was right. Satiana's world was nothing more than a small well in the grand scheme of things. Her experiences had exposed her to the hidden darkness in Fodlan — the Tragedy of Duscur and the existence of those who slithered in the dark. Rodrigue was her first experience with the nobility of Fodlan, and Viscount Hyrm was the second. Both were jarring experiences; the disparity between the two was…eye-opening. Then, she had her first real confrontation with the Church through Lord Lonato's rebellion.

Altogether, it was really her first time seeing the entirety of Fodlan in a nutshell. Her experience thus far had created an image of a dark, looming shadow threatening to devour the land whole. This shadow came from all sides: the corrupted nobility, the starving poor, the secretive church. Everything was corrupted from the bottom of the pyramid to the top and Satiana finally understood what Edelgard wanted to tell her.

Exposing the existence of those who slithered in the dark would only be a small step forward in the eradication of all corruption in Fodlan. But Satiana was no…king. She was just a small pawn, trying her best to redeem herself and pay for her past sins of ignorance. She didn't know whether she wanted to play the role of a messiah.

All she wanted to do was bring some appeasement to the victims of the experiments by killing those involved, but it seemed like Edelgard had more grandiose plans.

Satiana didn't know whether she wanted to involve herself in such lofty matters. But for now, gaining more insight about Fodlan wouldn't hurt.

"Satiana, there is something that I would like to ask you," Hanneman spoke. He interlocked his fingers underneath his chin, eyes downcast. "What or who do you think is the entity that is responsible for the experiments performed on you?"

Satiana frowned. "Well, of course, it's the dark mages. I don't know what their true goals are, but they destroyed countless lives for their own greedy needs."

"I see," Hanneman responded. "So that is where you have turned your blade towards. I understand how you feel, of course. It's much easier to feel hatred towards a tangible existence than something that is much more…deep-rooted in our society."

Satiana tilted her head to the side, brows furrowing. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, if you asked Lysithea, I think she would have a different answer from you." Hanneman was smiling, but there was deep sorrow swirling in his eyes, Satiana couldn't help but feel like she had said something wrong. "I agree with you that we should hold the dark mages who performed such heinous experiments on you responsible. But will destroying them truly stop these experiments from occurring again?"

Satiana froze, blue orbs widening. "I…have never thought that far." She found herself lost, thoughts in disarray. "I was so focused on my hatred towards those bastards who killed the children and turned them into mindless puppets I never thought about anything else."

Hanneman nodded. "I do not blame you. When one is in emotional turmoil, it becomes easier for one to have tunnel vision. As your senior in life and academics, I would like to give you advice. Of course, this is just my opinion from what I have experienced in my life." He chuckled wryly. "Satiana, in my opinion, even if you eradicate the mages that destroyed your lives, there may be another group in the future who attempt to do the same things they did. Why? Because crests for some are not a luxury, but a necessity."

Satiana took another sip from the cup of tea next to her. She closed her eyes, letting Hanneman's words sink in. The warm afternoon rays of sunshine seeping through the open windows played against her features, sharpening them. "I see. You are trying to tell me it is this world's obsession with crests that have led to my…our suffering."

Hanneman reclined into his chair, blank eyes gazing far into the distance as if reliving some past nostalgia. "This world has always been…unfair towards those that do not possess crests. Since you have lived a life far from the touch of nobility and influence of the Church, you have no idea how important crests are to the rest of Fodlan." He exhaled, face growing weary and old, not with age but with emotional exhaustion. "Crests are believed to be blessings bestowed by the Goddess. They grant special powers to those who hold them, such as higher aptitude for magic, enhanced strength, and other boons that give them edges over others."

"Yes, I know that crests allow people to be stronger. That's why the mages performed experiments on us. Because they wanted to create invincible children or soldiers," Satiana hummed in thought.

Hanneman nodded. "As a result, we value highly crests in our society. Many noble houses will do anything to obtain them, whether through marriage or adoption. Of course, these nobles do everything they can to gain a crest-bearing heir, then throw away the pawns that are useless to them, such as commoners who do not share their prestige. It is also not unheard of for noble children to be disowned because they lack crests."

Satiana remembered some children back in Caldea and the training centers. There were indeed a few noble children abandoned there because their parents believed in the opportunity the mages provided for their children. She gritted her teeth, anger flaring. "I see. That is very…terrible." She was, of course, understating it all. She finally came to understand what Edelgard was perhaps trying to tell her.

That it was the existence of crests that led to her sufferings, not the dark mages. But why would Edelgard act as if the two were not two sides of the same coin? Regardless of their inherent motives, it did not change the fact that those who slithered in the dark were equally responsible for the abominable experimentations and incidents across Fodlan. They used these greedy nobles to their benefit and controlled them like puppets in order to spread the seeds of chaos in Fodlan.

So why on earth was Edelgard choosing to hide their existence away from everyone?

"I had a sister once," Hanneman steered the conversation to newer grounds. "She was a very healthy young lady. Adorable, even. I always doted on her as her brother. I took care of her, loved her like no one else."

Satiana waited, feeling there was more to come.

"But then she was sold off in an arranged marriage to some unknown noble house who wanted a crest-bearing child. She herself did not bear a crest, but most of our family members did. They wanted her blood to be blunt," Hanneman spoke, tired eyes quivering under the memories. "I begged my parents to reconsider their decision, but no one listened to me. They thought it was for her own good to be married to a well-off noble house, especially because she had little worth as a crest-less woman."

Then, his tone changed into one of warmth and kindness. "But there was one thing I was glad about. Her husband was a kind-hearted man. He loved her for all she was, not because of her precious bloodline. He took great care of her and they bore many children together, even though they were all crestless, in the end."

Satiana's gaze softened. "I see. Then she lived a happy life, I assume."

Hanneman shook his head. "I'm afraid her happiness was short-lived. I only heard about it from her husband later, but her father-in-law constantly abused her because she didn't bear a single crest for their family. In the end, she chose suicide and took all her children with her, leaving the bereaved husband to wallow in despair."

Hanneman exhaled heavily, taking off his monocles with shaky hands. He wiped the dirt off them as if trying to distract himself from the whirlwind of complicated emotions inside of him. "Her husband went mad with sorrow and ended up slaughtering his entire family…including mine. The House of Essar bloodline ends with me, who survived because I was away on a scholarly exchange in the Kingdom."

Satiana felt her stomach plummet. Hanneman's story had reminded her of something she had not paid attention to for years. She tried to squash that involuntary knot of anxiety rising up her chest, but to no avail. The revelation was heartbreaking.

She swallowed, her voice trembling with horror and shock. "P-Professor Hanneman. You said your sister's husband killed his family, correct?"

Hanneman stared at her knowingly and nodded. "Yes, he did."

It was like someone stabbed her in the heart with a flaming dagger. An undeniable noise of sorrow escaped from her lips as she choked on thin air, the sudden epiphany threatening to destroy her existence. She remembered it all — the instances of fake smiles and plastic laughs. The grim mossy-green eyes that often gleamed with such tremendous darkness underneath the moonlight. The constant physical affection he gave to her since when she was still a young child. The first time they met and the way his eyes were…dead. Lifeless. Soulless.

Is this why you wanted to die all along? Because you had no one left worth living for in this world?

"What was his name?" Satiana asked, though she already knew the damning answer waiting in front of her. But she wanted someone to confirm it for her. Make her nightmares come true. Because now, she could finally know what words to say to the man the next time she saw him.

That it was okay to think of her as his long, lost child. That she cared about him as one of her only parental figures in the world. That she was sorry for making light of his speech about making her his adopted child and turning him away for Jeralt instead.

"I believe you are well acquainted already," Hanneman spoke softly. "He asked me to hide your crest away from the Church. I still have not told anyone about it. His name is Renard. Renard von Dietrich."

"Dietrich…Renard von Dietrich…" she repeated it under her breath, searing his name into her brain.

She should've asked Renard earlier about it all, but the two of them still had this strange wall between them. They didn't like to talk about their traumas with each other because it only meant reliving them. She was thankful for the space he gave her, but now, she felt like she had been pushing him away for far too long, brushing each step he took towards her as a bland joke. The man often hid under a pile of masks, but he was slowly becoming genuine around her. Like the last time when he almost died in her arms.

He was one sappy soul but Satiana knew he meant well.

Satiana stood up from her seat, bowing deeply at Hanneman. "Professor, thank you so much for today. I have learned a lot about myself and this world, just by talking to you."

Hanneman stood up from his seat as well and swerved around his desk, avoiding the piles of paperwork scattered throughout the room. He patted her shoulder, a father-like smile on his face as he gazed at her with warmth and care. "I'm the one who wants to thank you. I see you were able to give him the peace I could never have. I've always wanted to thank him for loving Helena until the very end, but it's only right for him to hate me for being a failure as a brother. I wasn't even there for her in her last moments, engrossed in my own studies. That is why I have sworn to myself since that day on. I will use my research to benefit Fodlan and save it from the curse of crests. I swear I will save Lysithea, Satiana. No matter how long it takes, I will create a cure for her condition."

Satiana felt a small burden lifting from her shoulders. She was light-weighted, steps feathery for the first time in a very long while.

Indeed, even in this disgusting world of bloodshed and cruelty, beautiful souls still tried their best to survive. Jeralt, Rodrigue, Renard, Lysithea, Hanneman, and many others. There were people who understood her pain and tried to help her along her blood-stained path.

Yes, this crest-ridden world was at fault for most of the heinous crimes. But even then, she believed one day, all these small buds of hope will flourish and bloom. Hanneman's research, Rodrigue's attempt to change Faerghus's nobility, Lysithea and her County, Jeralt and Satiana's efforts to destroy the mages.

She wasn't alone in this world. Not anymore. She had a ton of new comrades with her. Even the Blue Lions, if she dared to hope for their hands.

Satiana exited Hanneman's room, closing the door behind him. Then she leaned against the door, exhaling with a peaceful smile on her face.

Edelgard, I wonder how the world looks in your eyes? Fodlan may be a corrupt place, but it is not hopeless by any means. Can you not see these flowers blooming even underneath the most violent rainstorms and the darkest nights?

Of course, there was no answer. Only the lonely, wind whispers surrounding her gave her a glimpse of what Edelgard's answer would've been.

The underground hand-drawn map Renard gave him was absolutely worthless — as worthless as the said man himself because Jeralt wanted nothing more than to strangle his partner for making him waste more than half a day on reaching the Abyss. He had almost fallen prey to every single trap possible: tripwires, pitfalls, crushing walls, you name it.

At least Renard wasn't lying when he told Jeralt the Abyss was an obnoxious maze to weave yourself through. Although Jeralt had to admit, Renard severely underplayed the intricate layout of the Abyss. Whoever created the place was no less than a genius.

The dimly lit tunnels, barely visible if not for the burning torches on the wall, spread down almost every direction possible. Combined with the large water passageways that crossed over every tunnel, without a guide or, in Jeralt's case, a poorly drawn map, it would be hard to find one's bearings. Every wall looked the same, each tunnel a carbon copy of their neighbor. Add in the black splotches of darkness and numerous piles of rubble blocking certain passageways and the underground passage was a nightmare to traverse.

Jeralt had no idea what time it was when he finally reached an open clearing inside the sewer passages. He found himself lost in the middle of what seemed to be a black market. At first glance, it seemed to be no different from the market on the monastery grounds. There was an armory and a food stand, nothing out of the norm. But on closer inspection, the goods being sold were all either second-hand half-broken weapons or rare, luxurious relics from who-knows-where.

Then there was the weird priest cloaked in white clothing who called himself the influencer. Perhaps he was the one who created the altar of the Pagan Goddess, but Jeralt knew better than to rely on some prayers to a statue that magically offered A-ranked weapons in return for one's faith.

Really, everything just seemed like a giant hoax.

The Abyss had earned a nasty reputation for itself and Jeralt was experiencing first-handedly what made others so afraid of the place. There was no law enforcement, no protection, nothing. It was a barren, savage land where only the strongest survived. Everyone who lurked down the corridors looked like vagabonds, thieves, old beggars, or orphans.

Jeralt knew better than to involve himself with such an untrusty crew, but he had business deep inside the Abyss. He was here with a mission in mind. Of course, he didn't actually believe he would find what he sought for deep underneath the monastery, but it was worth a try.

Renard had reminded him of a familiar existence he had buried deep underneath his memories for the past twenty years or so. Aelfric, a long-lost friend he never thought he would hear of again. Sitri seemed to enjoy making light conversation with him when Jeralt wasn't around; he'd heard her mention Aelfric's name in passing a few times. Jeralt himself did not have many opportunities to talk to the said man, but he knew Aelfric was someone who secretly worshiped his wife.

Then again, Sitri was a beautiful flower blooming alone in the midst of such a dry and desolate place. Everyone yearned to talk to her at least once in their lifetime. And it was no other than Jeralt, the Blade Breaker himself, who ended up plucking her petals, stealing her away from the garden of Eden root and all, showing her the path to a new world that ended up taking her life.

Perhaps Aelfric would hate him for failing to protect Sitri when it mattered the most. But for now, their past vendetta aside, Jeralt had more pressing matters to talk to him about. He already failed to protect his beloved wife. He can't fail his new daughter too, or what kind of man would he be?

Aelfric…if you are involved with those dark mages…

Jeralt clenched his teeth, barely restraining himself from snarling out loud. He sauntered down the paths, searching for his target. He ended up strolling past what appeared to be a classroom. Shifting the cloak forward, he hid his face underneath the shadows and briskly rushed past the door. He took a quick glance inside the room, memorizing the three figures he saw sitting on top of the half-broken desks. One man who looked like a brawler, one woman with such vibrant red hair, and another who looked like a high-class noble lady.

The man jerked his head towards the door, beast-like instincts flaring, and Jeralt darted into the shadows with near-silent steps, lying his back flat against the shadows inside the hallway. The man strode out the door with narrowed eyes. He swiveled around in place, searching for signs of intruders. Jeralt slid backward, deeper into the tunnel and clasped a hand over his nose, stifling his breath.

"Hey, Balthus. What's wrong with you?" A female voice echoed down the corridor.

"Nothing. Probably just a rat." The man named Balthus clicked his tongue once in annoyance before he retreated into the classroom, throwing himself into banter with the previous woman.

Jeralt waited for an entire minute, concealing his presence underneath the dark spots underground. He eventually released a small sigh, taking a step out from the shadows, hand shifting away from the hilt of his lance. He let his guard down, unbeknownst to the emerging blade glimmering palpably red from the torches behind him.

A hand shot out from the stygian darkness and grabbed him by the shoulder. Jeralt gasped, launching his elbow behind on pure reflex when he felt silver metal against the base of his throat. He leaned back toward the opponent and allowed himself to be hauled deeper into the shadows, barely avoiding the blade on his neck.

Fuck, I was careless…!

He grabbed the arm in front of his windpipe with both hands and ducked, pushing the arm upward with all of his strength. The opponent released a small yelp, stumbling backward at the overwhelming strength. Jeralt swept low, aiming to knock the enemy off their feet. Unfortunately for him, the opponent was light on his feet, leaping meters away from him, just out of his lance's reach.

"Who are you?" Jeralt bellowed out into the darkness, whipping his lance out from behind him. He pointed the sharp end towards the opponent, bending low. "Answer me!"

"Woah, hold on a minute." The opponent stifled a chuckle. "I think that's what I want to ask you. Who are you and what are you doing in front of the Ashen Wolves's classroom? You don't seem like a regular customer in the Abyss, judging by your clean uniform and all." The enemy took a step forward, the edges of his hair glowing purple from the dimmed lighting. Intense orchid-purple orbs pierced through the dark shades as the man emerged from the shadows, carrying a mid-length blade in his hand. He tilted his head to the side, placing his free hand on his hip in a show of confidence.

Jeralt narrowed his eyes at the man. He looked incredibly young and astonishingly feminine. If Jeralt had not heard him speak, he would've easily mistaken the man for a young woman. Then again, his gender was the least of Jeralt's problems. The way the man carried himself reminded Jeralt of Renard and, to a smaller degree, Satiana. It was obvious from the way he caught Jeralt off guard from behind. This man was used to spending his life in the shadows and was, with no doubt, a well-trained assassin.

Just his luck to face an assassin on his first day underground.

"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for a fight," Jeralt responded in a low voice, honey-gold orbs glistening in the dark, creating an ominous atmosphere around the two of them. "There's someone that I'm looking for in the Abyss and until I find him, I cannot leave this place."

"Hm, well if you're speaking the truth, I believe I can help you." The man in front of Jeralt lowered his blade slightly, feigning friendliness, but the grip he maintained on his weapon showed otherwise. His expression remained stoic; no twitch or even a flicker of emotion that could be interpreted as being anything akin to amiability. "Who is it that you're looking for? I happen to know quite a lot of people here. No one escapes my watchful eyes."

It was impossible to read the young man. Jeralt realized he had walked right into the lion's den and escape was not an option, especially with this man on his trail. If he retreated, the young man would stalk him all the way above ground, perhaps even trace after his closest friends, keeping tabs on everything that he did in the monastery.

He couldn't endanger Satiana or his daughter. And so Jeralt chose the only option he had left.

"I'm looking for someone named Aelfric. If you know where he is, tell him that a man named Jeralt Eisner wants to discuss something of high importance with him," Jeralt bellowed, voice echoing down the empty hall. He made a show of lowering his lance, pointing the end at the ground. "If you can do that for me, I have no reason to fight against you. I'm not out for blood here."

The young man stayed silent, hawk-like gaze dissecting his intentions. There was a long silence between them before Jeralt heard metal hitting the ground. The young man stood with his blade stabbed onto the floor, lips curled up into an enchanting, smug grin. "Well, what do you know? You're quite the well-seasoned veteran, huh, old man?" The young man started laughing. "To be honest, I thought you would start hacking your way through my defenses. You have to admit. You don't look like the type with brains. More like muscles and brawl."

Jeralt rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you think of me. Just hurry up and tell me if you know where Aelfric is already."

"Now, now, there's no hurry. Don't worry. Aelfric will be back soon. He's currently busy around the border." The young man then completely walked out of the darkness, showing himself to Jeralt. "So, the infamous blade breaker, huh?"

Jeralt raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am?"

The man snorted, throwing his hands into the air. "Please, who do you think I am? I may look like a brat to you, but I'm still the second in command around here." The man then leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms around his chest, eyes twinkling. "I was being honest, you know? I was prepared to fight against you, but then you acted totally differently than I expected. You're more level-headed than what the gossips say."

Jeralt stared flatly at the young man in front of him. He flipped his lance into the air, attaching it behind his back to where it belonged. "Don't play games with me, brat. You knew who I was the moment you attacked me from behind, didn't you?" It wasn't an accusation. Jeralt now knew exactly what kind of opponent he was dealing with.

"You're right, I did." The young man suppressed a snicker. "I only pretended to, well, threaten you a bit. It's not often we get someone of such high prestige like you around here, acting like a sewer rat." He snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. "Really, next time, try not to act so conspicuously. Just stroll through the front gates. I'll even give you a tour the next time you find yourself down here."

Jeralt glowered at him. "I don't have time to waste here. I need information fast, and if Aelfric isn't here, then I'll have to take my leave for today."

"Geez, you really are in a hurry, huh?" The feminine man rolled his eyes. "Calm down for a moment. I told you, didn't I? I'm the second in command around here. Surely, I'm your best bet when it comes to information. I'll even notify you when Aelfric returns."

Jeralt scoffed. "Sorry, but I don't buy your act. What do you want from me?"

The young man looked taken aback. "Hm? What do you mean?"

Jeralt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. "You assassins are all the same. Hiding behind a thousand layers of masks. Acting as if you're dumb when you know everything already." Jeralt narrowed his eyes. "Look, young man. I knew from the moment you snuck up behind me you didn't want to kill me. If you wanted to, I wouldn't be standing here alive right now. Yet you chose to probe my intentions, albeit knowing who I was from the beginning. You say you thought I would fight against you, but I doubt my reputation has gone completely down the gutters. I was once a part of the Knights of Seiros, after all. Which means you want something from me. "

"Indeed, I do." He shifted his attitude, a whimsical grin plastered on his handsome features. "To think you've read me that far. I have to admit, I'm impressed, sir Jeralt."

"Hah!" Jeralt grunted. "I just happen to carry around a rowdy bunch with me and a few of them have the same affinity towards the darkness as you do." Then, Jeralt stared directly into those mesmerizing, knowing orbs. "Now, tell me. What do you want from me?"

"First, let me introduce myself. The name's Yuri." He yanked his sword out of the ground, sliding it back gracefully inside the sheathe on his hips. "And I've been watching Aelfric for the same reasons you are."

Jeralt froze, eyes widening. "You're a spy? For who?"

"I wouldn't call it like that, but for now, you can think of me that way," Yuri said with a shrug. "And I won't tell you who hired me to do this, but I plan on selling out Aelfric eventually. He's a good guy. Or at least, he was until he tipped over the edge." Yuri sighed, eyes somewhat wistful, though Jeralt had no idea how genuine he was being. "Anyway, I believe I have the information that you need. You're here about his involvement with the Western Church, correct?"

Jeralt frowned. "So, you even know about that, huh?"

Yuri smirked. "What can I say? I'm a brilliant spy, though it's embarrassing to admit to myself. But enough of that. Let's get to the real business."

Yuri plopped himself down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged with a beaming smile on his face. He waved towards Jeralt, beckoning him closer. Jeralt reluctantly complied, shifting closer towards Yuri before he bent down onto his knees before the young man. Yuri leaned into Jeralt's personal space, enthralling purple irises narrowing.

"I'll get straight to the point. Your suspicions are correct. Aelfric has been smuggling out crest stones from the Central Church and has been providing them to the Western Church. Why? Because he wants to kill Lady Rhea as much as those bastards do. Their goals align and he has nothing to lose," Yuri whispered under his breath. "Now, about what you can do for me. I need your help. Or more exactly, I need you to distract Aelfric for a bit. I'll let you know when the time is right."

"And why should I do that for you?" Jeralt responded gruffly.

"Oh, you'll do it for me alright. I don't even have to convince you. Because if you don't, she's dead," Yuri spoke ominously with enough sternness in his voice Jeralt knew immediately who Yuri was talking about. If the man truly knew everything about Jeralt as he claimed to, then it was obvious Satiana was in deep danger.

Jeralt swore under his breath, clenching his fists as he trembled in fury. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he wanted to believe in Aelfric. The man was faithful and kindhearted, though oddly obsessed at times. He was too righteous for his own good and the words of others easily corrupted that justice of his. If possible, Jeralt wanted Aelfric to prove his suspicions wrong — show that he had nothing to do with those heinous experiments on Satiana and the poor children of Caldea and Fodlan.

But if he was involved with the Western Church, who knew what he was up to behind the scenes? And of all things, he wanted to kill Rhea?

It was time for Jeralt to throw away his last ounce of respect towards the said man. No more hope. No more second chances. Aelfric was kind enough to lay off Sitri, but if he dared to reach his hands towards Jeralt's last remaining jewels, he'd have to pay with his life.

"Fucking hell. What does he need her for?" Jeralt slammed his fist into the ground.

"Something you cannot even imagine in your wildest dreams, Jeralt." Yuri was stone-faced now. Any remnants of trickery or mischief disappeared with the howling wind echoing down the cold tunnel. "If you want to save her, then you must listen to what I am about to tell you. We only have one chance at destroying his plans."

"What is he up to?" Jeralt asked, honey-golden orbs growing weary with mental exhaustion.

"Well, before that, I need you to promise me you won't, I don't know, just faint over in shock." Yuri's expression hardened as the torches flickered around them. "I'm being serious with you now, Jeralt."

Jeralt did not know what Yuri was afraid of because he was already feeling faint-hearted at the thought of Satiana being in danger and the heavy betrayal of his dear, old friend. Whatever it was Yuri had waiting for him, nothing would faze him anymore. "Just tell me already, brat."

But then again, it seemed like the Goddess loved to betray his trust lately.

Yuri took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. "Well, you better open your ears wide and listen to me because I'm only going to say this once. He wants to revive your wife. What was her name again? Sitri and—"

"What."

Yuri paused, blinking. "Oh yeah, her body is currently resting peacefully near the Abyss. Lady Rhea didn't bury her in the graveyard in the monastery—"

"What the fuck?"

"He wants to revive her using the rite of rising the Four Apostles by using my friends and your adopted daughter's blood in my stead because he believes I'm on his side right now—"

"The four what?!"

"Anyway, that's the long story short. What I need you to do is break into the middle of the ceremony and basically just destroy everything in your sight. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Jeralt launched himself at Yuri and choked the poor man by grabbing his collar, slamming him against the wall. "So, it's your fault he's going for Satiana because you just had to be the rat-bastard double spy you are—"

"Shit, of all things I just revealed to you, that's what caught your attention first?!" Yuri yelled as he coughed for air, scratching against Jeralt's hands. "What about your dead wife?!"

But Jeralt was long gone, brain short-circuiting, exploding into smithereens from an overload of information and Yuri could do nothing to stop his impending doom other than perhaps offering a more long-winded explanation to his plans and maybe a jug of cold beer to calm down the poor man's nerves.

"The Goddess's Rite of Rebirth is finally here. Let's move ahead with our plan," Dimitri said as he stood in the middle of the group as usual. The Blue Lions had gathered in the center of the Cathedral at dawn, fully armed and prepared for battle once the monastery opened itself up to the public. According to security details provided by Seteth, the Blue Lions were to be in charge of the Northeast section of the monastery. This proved to be an advantage for them since they already planned to lay siege on the Holy Mausoleum. "Let's move ahead with our plans."

"You think the other soldiers will realize what we're up to?" Annette whispered in Mercedes's ears.

Mercedes tilted her head to the side. "Hm, I don't think they'll mind as long as we're properly guarding the place. Besides, I highly doubt they'll target the graveyard or the Knights' Hall. There aren't any valuable keepsakes there."

"That is true," Ingrid spoke from beside Mercedes. "If we're to guard the North Courtyard, then there is really only one plausible place of high suspicion."

"Hmph, I don't care what we do as long as I get to fight some of those assassins sent by the Western Church," Felix snorted. "The villagers in Gaspard territory barely provided a challenge. They were nothing more than wooden dummies in the training grounds."

Satiana rolled her eyes. "You and your unstoppable blood thirst. Why can't you just hope for a peaceful encounter like everyone does?"

Sylvain laughed from the very back of the group. "Well, I don't mind if the assassins consist of cute ladies dressed in black." He twirled his lance in the air, whistling a cheery tune. "Maybe I'll even get to take them to town later for a, well, adult conversation."

"Where else would you be taking them to but a prison, Sylvain," Lysithea scoffed, shaking her head in disapproval. "If this is how the Blue Lions act all the time, I'm wondering if all those rumors about you guys were false."

Dimitri chuckled, crossing his arms. "Don't worry. It's true that we are quite a loud group of soldiers, but when it comes down to it, we work together as a well-organized team. Especially with our professor's lead, we have nothing to be afraid of." Then, his expression thinned. "But be careful. These are assassins sent by the Western Church. They are not like any of the opponents we have faced so far. We cannot afford to lose our focus."

"I agree to that," Byleth spoke up from behind Dimitri, catching everyone's attention. "We've got new orders. We can head directly to the Holy Mausoleum and ignore everything else."

"Sweet!" Sylvain snapped his finger, a bright goofy grin on his face. "Did Seteth give you permission to lead us?"

Byleth nodded in response, turning to the side to allow room for Seteth and Flayn to enter the conversation. The man approached the group with the usual stoic expression, his daughter the more light-hearted of the two.

Seteth stood off to the side, glaring at the rest of the students. "You all seem a mite too relaxed for my liking." He stared specifically at the huddle of students around Sylvain and the said man looked up to the ceiling, suddenly gaining interest in a random mural painted on top of the church.

Seteth sighed in disapproval. "We are relying on you to secure the locations that we are lacking in defense. I placed my trust in your hands and I hope you will not choose to disappoint me later. The Holy Mausoleum may not be a treasure vault, but it is a holy and sacred place to the Church. If any harm befalls the tombs lying dormant there…" Seteth trailed off, anger crackling for a split second. "You will all face severe punishment. Mark my words."

The raucous fray of chattering dampened. The students anxiously turned to each other, some with frowns and others with worried expressions. Byleth noticed the change in her student's demeanor and walked up behind Seteth, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Seteth, I promise you, nothing will happen. Please, try not to scare the students too much. As long as I am around, they have nothing to worry about. Besides, people are more prone to make mistakes when they go into battle feeling nervous."

Seteth grunted. "I certainly hope you prove your worth to me. I don't enjoy giving second chances often, professor."

Byleth nodded. "Of course, Seteth. I shall not betray your trust in me."

"May I let you in on something, Professor?" Flayn darted behind Byleth, whispering in a hushed voice. Seteth caught on to her actions but seemed to let her be. Flayn stood on her toes, leaning towards Byleth who knelt down on reflex, allowing Flayn the extra reach she needed. "My brother can be a bit…callous," she snickered under her breath. "He told me he was concerned about you and hinted that perhaps you would be better off patrolling a coffin!"

Seteth groaned, his ears tinged a rosy pink. "Flayn, that was said in jest…and in confidence. Please, just stay by my side and do not cause any trouble."

Byleth smiled at him, cerulean orbs twinkling. "Well, I am patrolling a coffin, indeed. Do not worry, Seteth. I can handle a few skeletons if you need me to."

Satiana resisted the urge to snicker and hid her mouth behind her palms. Sylvain guffawed loudly, saying fuck all to social cues and even Dedue had an indescribable expression on his face, lips twitching upwards. Dimitri coughed, sweatdropping. "Uh, professor? I think we should start patrolling the area now."

Byleth nodded. "You're right. We need time to prepare. Forgive me, Seteth, but it is time for us to excuse ourselves."

Seteth sighed in response. "Of course, you may excuse yourselves. Flayn? Please, follow me." Seteth turned to address his daughter who beamed at him.

"Then, please excuse us, everyone." She bowed gracefully before following her brother's steps. "We shall see you again after the ceremony has concluded."

As the crowd calmed after the exit of the duo, Byleth ushered her students towards their respective posts. They headed immediately towards the Holy Mausoleum, leaving their battalions to roam above ground. According to the plan, Ashe and Annette would stand outside in case they needed reinforcements later on during the battle. Dedue and Sylvain were the front tanks with Byleth hanging behind them. The rest of the students settled in the dimmed lit passageways leading down the stairs to the Holy tomb.

Most of the march was filled with deafening silence, minus a few sounds of bickering here and there from Sylvain and Felix who loved to get into arguments. Ingrid shut them up with a sharp glare and a whack to the back of their heads.

The group descended the spiral staircase leading deeper into the unknown. The number of torches scattered along the walls slowly diminished as their surroundings grew darker, shadows enveloping their path. They had no idea how long they had spent underground, but the endless tunnels took a toll on their mentality.

Sylvain was the first to break under the pressure, whining in the front lines. "Geez, why is it so dark and creepy here? I mean, I understand it's a tomb but—"

"Shh!" Ingrid whispered. "Be quiet already! What if you alerted the enemies to our presence?!"

Sylvain winced. "S-Sorry…"

It was then that Dedue halted. He spread his arm wide across the narrow staircase, preventing the others from following him. The students paused, head turning towards each other in confusion. Dedue refused to elaborate before he knelt down, brows furrowed with sharp eyes narrowed to death.

Byleth was on high alert as she drew her weapon. She leaned against the wall of the staircase, closing her eyes. "I sense a few presences roaming underneath us," her stern voice echoed down their ranks and the students followed suit, drawing their weapons and getting into their battle stances.

Lysithea was at the very back of the group when she froze. "Wait, I think we should change our plans." She squeezed her way to the front, tapping Byleth by the shoulder. "I sense the aura of black magic down there. Dedue won't fare well against mages. We should get Annette and Ashe down here instead so we can snipe at them from afar."

True to her words, streams of black fog emanated from deeper underground. The air grew heavy with tension, caping the small corridor with anxiety.

"I shall go call reinforcements and alert the other houses. I will send Annette and Ashe down here soon," Dedue informed before he pressed himself through the crowd, jogging back up the stairs.

Dimitri took charge instead, making his way to the frontline. "I know I don't fare well against magic users myself, but I am confident in my abilities to lead. Does anyone have any objections?" He glanced behind his shoulder as he readied his lance.

There were no signs of opposition. Everyone nodded in understanding.

Dimitri mirrored their actions, nodding in response before he snapped his attention down the staircase. "We'll be reaching the final staircase soon. After that, spread out evenly amongst ourselves. Lysithea, stay on the right flank and take charge against any mages that lie in our paths. Take Felix with you as well. He can support you from the back. Ingrid, I want you on the left. You have higher magic resistance than anyone of us here. You lead the charge there alongside Sylvain. Professor, Satiana, you two follow my lead and we'll break through the center of their formation. Mercedes, stay close to us and heal anyone who's hurt."

The Blue Lions needed no words. They had faced countless battles together before, even outside of mission dates. Byleth had taught them various formations as they took down monster bounties throughout the past moon. By now, the Blue Lions were an elite group of soldiers.

"Then, let's go!" Dimitri raised his voice as he sprinted down the stairs, emerging from the shadows, barging into the Holy Mausoleum.

The group followed him, descending the final staircase. They emerged in a well-lit open space. Rows and aisles of coffins were scattered throughout the large hall. A short flight of stairs led higher up the room where a larger coffin lay at the top of the altar.

As expected, as soon as they began their siege, a group of assassins and mages clad in dark cloaks scrambled towards them. "Enemy attack! Prepare for battle!" Their presumed leader, a mage in the very far back of the room screamed, launching his arm into the air in a show of leadership.

Dimitri stood in the center of the chaos, glaring at his enemies. "It seems they are after the casket of Saint Seiros. Do they intend to steal her bones?"

"Who cares what they intend to do?" Felix scowled, rushing towards the right. "Slay them all before they get to regroup themselves!"

"Wait, Felix! Don't rush in there without me," Lysithea groaned as she waddled after his steps, gathering a miasma spell in her glowing hands.

"Support him," Byleth barked out from behind, sprinting past Dimitri with her blade raised up high into the air, thirsty for blood. She launched herself at the nearest lancer and pierced him through the heart, slashing his armor off him with a clean swipe.

"On it," Mercedes said as a pure white, golden mist enveloped her palms. She released the Nosferatu spell into the air, knocking a mage off-balance as Felix chopped his head off.

Ingrid and Sylvain darted towards the left, surrounding their enemies in a pincer attack as they launched a flurry of well-aimed strikes at the brigands. From behind, Satiana supported them with her bow, sniping at the priests healing them from a few meters away. The group fell in rapid succession and the Blue Lions asserted dominance, sauntering deeper into the holy grounds.

It was then that Satiana noticed with her keen vision a familiar figure clad in dark armor. The skull-like mask summoned forth dark memories of Renard's half-limp body on the floor and their overwhelming defeat, sending shudders down her spine. She snarled under her breath, sprinting away from Ingrid and Sylvain, heading back towards the center of their formation. She slid to a halt behind Byleth who just finished slaughtering a group of swordsmen and archers.

Satiana hissed, catching Byleth's attention. Byleth raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to speak her mind.

"Byleth, do you see that dark knight in the center of the room? The one mounted on top of his horse," Satiana harshly whispered. "He was there at Gaspard. He's the bastard who almost killed Renard and me."

Byleth's cerulean irises gleamed darkly as she nodded in understanding. She spun around on her heels, quickly judged the battlefield, and then beckoned towards Dimitri with a quick wave of her sword.

Dimitri blinked, walking backward to Byleth with his weapon readied high in the air. "What's the matter, professor?"

"I want you to ignore that cavalier in the center of the room. Support Ingrid and Sylvain, push their ranks all the way to the back of the room, and secure a path for me to weave my way back there later. Ashe and Annette will cover for Lysithea and Felix. I'll take Satiana with me and hold that dark knight back," Byleth ordered in rapid succession.

Dimitri frowned, though he nodded in response. "Alright. I will await you at the back, professor. Please, be careful!" He yelled before he dashed towards the left of the room, sprinting up the stairs.

They didn't have a single moment to spare before the Death Knight slid off its horse with one smooth jump. Metal boots clinked against the tiles and Byleth got into her stance, holding her blade up at eye-level with both hands. Satiana circled around the Death Knight with her swords in hand, dark blue orbs analyzing each and every move her opponent made.

"So…we meet again," the dark voice reverberated down the chaotic battlefield, sending shudders down Satiana's spine and she felt her muscles snap into place, tensing up on reflex. The giant scythe moved from the top of his shoulders, trailing across him as he tilted the hilt down horizontally. He made a quick slash, sending a wide burst of purple flames out into the opening and Satiana leaped off to the side in response, the edges of her ponytail seared by the heat.

Byleth snuck in from behind the Death Knight, crouched low as she prowled across the floor with frightening speed, thrusting directly at his back. Her blow was met with a snap of his wrists, the scythe soaring backward to parry her blade. Byleth gritted her teeth as the tremendous force sent her flying back, sliding against the floor. She dug the heels of her boots into the tiles, recovering her balance when the Death Knight suddenly warped towards her with his scythe flaring purple.

Satiana gasped, voice hitching. "Byleth!" she screamed, sprinting towards the knight in a blind rage with her swords raised up high in the air.

Byleth cursed underneath her breath and quickly tilted her blade up to block the damning blow to her head when her well-tuned ears heard the sound of short breathing, something similar to a smirk or laugh. Cerulean orbs widened in damning realization and she snapped her blazing gaze towards Satiana who leaped into the air behind the Dark Knight. "Satiana, it's a trap!" she bellowed out.

"W-What?" Satiana faltered, grip wavering mid-air when his scythe began to glow ominously black. The Dark knight mumbled under his breath, chanting a quick spell before the scythe let loose a deafening explosion, poisonous fog enveloping her line of sight. "F-Fuck—" she swore as she sucked in a big gulp of air, caught unprepared. "Poison strike?!"

She didn't have time to adjust her body to the numbing poison trickling down her veins, freezing her blood cold when a powerful strike to the side threw her across the room against a nearby pillar. She crashed into the pillar, almost snapping the entire concrete in two, back screaming in pain.

Lysithea, who was making quick work of a dark mage in the right flank of the room snapped her attention towards the sound of rocks crumbling. Bright pink irises widened in horror as she spotted the familiar strands of black hair bobbing limply on top of a pile of debris. "Satiana!"

Felix froze, the sword plunging into the stomach of a brigand, head turning towards Lysithea's direction. He saw her sprinting towards the body buried underneath the pile of boulders and felt his anger flare. "That damn, idiot. How many times is she going to get herself in trouble with her recklessness?!"

Byleth stared silently as she watched Lysithea and Felix sprint towards Satiana who was barely conscious after one fatal blow. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, glaring in contempt at the Death Knight who strode up to her with his scythe in hand.

"Unfortunately, I have no interest in fighting against that one as of now. Not until she succumbs to the dark desires inside of her, like a moth to the flame, seeking nothing but bloodshed," the Death Knight rumbled as he completely turned his attention away from Satiana.

Byleth's expression thinned, cerulean orbs still burning brightly even under the dimmest of lights. "Sorry, but as long as I'm here, that won't be happening any time soon."

"A pity, then. Surely, you are not as…weak-hearted as she is. I sense a different power lying dormant within you. Show me more," the Death Knight demanded as he cast a Death R spell, hauling another explosion of dark flames towards Byleth.

Instead of dodging, Byleth snagged up a corpse resting near her feet and chucked it at the roaring row of flames. She used it as a barrier and scampered towards the Death Knight, letting the corpse blow up into smithereens behind her wake. The Death Knight seemed stunned at her choice of tactics taking a quick step back when Byleth slammed her knee right into his abdomen, ignoring his scythe.

The Death Knight regained his balance and swerved around in a circle, lifting his boots up to ram her head. Byleth ducked, following the opponent's move, spinning around him in a circle. With his back in sight, Byleth raised up her blade and gathered all her might, slashing in a wide arc, cutting open the back of the knight's armor. A string of blood followed after her blade's path, sending the Death Knight into a growling fit.

He spun around in response, baring his full ire as he slammed his forearm into her side, whacking her off into the distance with nothing but brute strength. Byleth barely managed to block the attack by sliding the shaft of her sword down, gloved hands trembling at the sheer difference in physical strength.

The Death Knight straightened its posture, chuckling lowly as he walked towards her, lifting the scythe up into the air. "That's it. Struggle more. Show me that thirst for victory…!"

He launched himself at her again, this time choosing to thrust the pointed end of the scythe at her heart like a spear. With her arm still quaking underneath the overwhelming pressure, she hopped to the side behind a pillar, letting his scythe crash against the barrier. With quick steps, she circled around the broken pillar, spotting his left side vulnerable to attack. She aimed with precision, stabbing her blade into his sides…

Only to have it counterattacked by his other free forearm, the spikes on his armor piercing into her hand. Her eyes widened as she suddenly yanked her hand back in reaction to the sharp, sudden pain. The decision to retreat almost cost her head as the Death Knight swung his scythe-gripping arm towards her. She couldn't move, both arms rendered useless from the pain and she gritted her teeth, choosing to leap back in response.

But she miscalculated the scythe's reach in her panic. The weapon soared through the sky, inching closer and closer towards her face and Byleth felt her blood run cold. Her fingers twitched, and she prepared herself to cast a divine pulse with Sothis's help, knowing that this blow would end her life.

She opened her lips to speak when suddenly, a pair of steel lances blocked the scythe's path, sending the Death Knight rebounding backward in shock. Byleth's eyes widened as two familiar figures strode into the battlefield, blocking the path between her and the Death Knight.

"Sorry for being late, professor. We have eradicated the rest of their soldiers and are prepared to support you," Dimitri spoke from in front of her.

Sylvain glanced over his shoulder and threw a flirtatious wink, ignoring the tension inside the battlefield. "Professor, you can thank me for that one later. How about a dinner date? Does that sound good to you?"

A violent gust of wind blew through them and the pillars surrounding the Death Knight split into halves, falling down to the ground in heavy, resounding thuds, burying the Death Knight from view. "Professor, backup is here!" Annette yelled, waving her hands in the air a few meters away from the entrance.

Ashe appeared behind her with his bow drawn, lime green orbs glowing. "Professor! We have secured the exit for you."

Byleth stood dumbfounded in place as her students crowded around her with their weapons drawn. Each of them looked proud at their achievements; smirks and smiles littered across their expressions. She didn't know how to describe the feeling, but Byleth felt her heart swelling up, a warm fuzzy wave of emotions sweeping over her exhausted body. A burst of air erupted from deep inside her throat and she laughed, the sound like bell-chimes to the rest of the crew.

Dimitri whirled his head around, jaw-dropping in shock. "P-Professor, did you just laugh?!"

Byleth bit down on a smile, refusing to indulge her students any further in the clinks of her stone-faced armor, choosing to speak softly instead. "I am glad you all made it here just in time."

The pile of rubble in front of them exploded as if on cue, sending debris into the air. Annette made quick work of the air-borne boulders, crushing them into pieces with her wind magic while Mercedes and Lysithea supported her with their own fire magic, bursting the rocks into powdery ashes. The Death Knight emerged from the debris, unscathed though it was obvious from the way he rumbled darkly under his breath that he was less than pleased with the result of the battle.

"I have no use for you fledglings. If you will not indulge in a battle to the death without these flying insects, then I shall take my leave for today." The Death Knight began to glow white, his armored gloves flaring as he prepared to cast a warp spell. "Until next time—"

"Hey, you son of a bastard!"

Nobody saw it coming. Not the Death Knight and certainly not any of her comrades who only managed to get her up on her feet after casting a bunch of heals and restores. She was no longer affected by the ailment, though her strength was still reduced by half from the poisonous attack.

But then again, if she wasn't being stupidly reckless at times, it wouldn't be her.

A quick whirl of black appeared behind the Death Knight, two swords impaling him right in the shoulder, catching him off-guard. Satiana twisted the hilt of her sword, sending the sound of flesh squelching into the air. The Death Knight growled out in pain, the skeleton-head mask whirling itself to meet her with blazing red eyes. The knight tried to swat her off his back, but she clung onto him like a nasty leech, sucking the life out of him as she yanked out her sword.

She kicked him in the back of his neck as she leaped off his back with a wide smirk on her face.

"That's for Renard. I'll return my personal debt the next time we meet!"

The Death Knight stumbled across the ground, blood pouring out of his open wounds. The white light around his hand threatened to burn out for a split second before he poured extra effort into the warp spell, blinding the entire room in light.

Everyone covered their eyes with their arms, hiding away from the flash. A dark rumble, similar to a sinister laugh echoed down the hallway.

"You…very well. I shall grant you the death you seek the next time we meet."

Their vision returned to normal, the blinding light stealing away the Dark Knight's existence as he warped off into the unknown distance, far away from their reach. The hall returned to a deafening silence as Satiana flicked her two swords, spraying blood across the floor in two ugly lines. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she sheathed her sword. "Stupid knight. Why does he talk as if he's so much better than us—"

A sharp pain on her head made her yelp. She crouched down to the floor, whining as she rubbed the top of her head, feeling the growing lump on her bruised scalp. "What the hell was that for?!" she snapped her head up, glaring with teary eyes at Byleth who stood in front of her with crossed arms, cerulean orbs shining with nothing but unrestrained fury. Satiana flinched underneath the burning gaze, swallowing. "Uh, I mean, what are you doing?" she changed her words around, sheepishly smiling at the enraged mercenary.

Byleth exhaled, shaking her head in disapproval. "Do you not understand what the word reckless means?"

Satiana glanced away from the fuming demon in front of her, choosing to whistle a cheery tune instead. It was something she learned from observing Sylvain over the past few moons. If you can't beat them, pretend you did nothing wrong. Yes, that would totally work.

"Satiana!" A ball of white launched itself at her, knocking her down to the ground in with a quiet 'oomph.' Lysithea caught her by the neck, snarling right in front of her face. "You are such an idiot! Even if I cast a restore on you, the poison isn't completely gone from your system yet. If you move around like that, you'll only harm your insides!"

"Uh, yeah, I know. But I couldn't just let that bastard get away scot-free after all that hell he put me through!" Satiana protested, coughing for air.

Felix strode up in front of her, lips pressed into a white slash. "You are the greatest fool in Fodlan. What was that move even? You just latched yourself onto his back like a monkey."

Satiana blinked, shrugging. "I don't know. I just wanted to stab him in the back like how he threw me against a sharp pile of rocks back in Gaspard."

Felix slapped his hand onto his forehead, groaning in disbelief. "I don't even know where to begin. Why can't you act more…more restrained?" His voice dropped a notch, gaining an edge suddenly. It caught Satiana by surprise, the genuine concern laced in his usually scathing tone. "What are you, a lost chimpanzee? Calm your head once in a while."

"Ah yes, be calm like you of all people," Satiana scoffed. "I'm still alive and that's all that matters."

"Yes, you are alive. Miraculously, if I may," Byleth interjected, tapping her toes against the cobbled floor. She refused to budge, eyes boring right into Satiana's soul with such piercing clarity Satiana couldn't help but feel guilty again for the umpteenth time the past few moons. "I leave you alone for a minute. One minute, Satiana. And you almost threw your life away. Again," Byleth spoke bluntly in short sentences. It only proved how on edge she was after the fight against the Death Knight.

Satiana shifted her gaze to the ground, sweating buckets underneath her reprimanding gaze. "S-Sorry. I won't do it again."

Byleth breathed a sigh. "No, I don't need your apology. Or promises, even. You'll get yourself in trouble one way or the other, anyway."

Satiana felt her heart sink at the somewhat detached response. Of course, she knew she was at fault for causing so much trouble lately. Gaspard included, she had been acting independently most of the time, refusing to rely on anyone for help. Not to mention, she never told Byleth with her own mouth Felix and Sylvain knew everything about her already. Then there was Lysithea, who she kept away from Professor Hanneman's reach. All things combined, Satiana had many things to apologize for.

But first and foremost, she betrayed Byleth's trust by making her worry all the time. Just one look at the wary expression on Byleth's face was enough for her to realize how selfish she had been acting lately. At the beginning of her time in the monastery, she often visited Byleth, spilling her worries. But as the moons flew by, she spent less time with her dear elder sister, burying herself under work, searching for clues all by herself. And she ended up half-dead twice now because of her reckless actions.

She couldn't blame Byleth for being so…so done with her attitude.

She lifted her head and clenched her fists, preparing herself to face the full wrath of Byleth's anger, only to see the small remnants of sorrow lurking inside those cerulean orbs. Her heart shattered into a billion pieces, eyes watering. Her lips wobbled as the apology spilled from her parting lips. "I apologize. For always worrying you. I…I'll consult you more about my actions next time. Everything."

Byleth remained silent. The rest of the students quietly listened to the duo, giving them space. After a long pregnant pause, Byleth eventually conceded. "Alright. For now, I forgive you. It's not as if I haven't been acting on my own lately as well…" she trailed off, cerulean eyes flickering meaningfully towards Dimitri's direction. "I don't blame you. Things have been quite hectic lately. But I need to talk to you. Soon."

"…Sure."

"By the way, professor…" Dimitri's voice interrupted the conversation. He pointed his index finger at the sword in Byleth's right hand. "When did you get your hands on that?"

Byleth blinked. "Oh, this?" She lifted her right arm, allowing everyone to see the relic in her hands.

Whatever it was, it looked like a large sword of sorts. The weapon seemed to be made of an unknown substance, aging mysteriously yellow. The blade was jagged with claws protruding from the sharp edge. The guard looked heavenly like wings with the way it spread outwards to the side. Most peculiar of all was the glowing red empty hole in the center of the sword.

"Is this…an ancient relic?" Annette mused, frowning in thought.

"Professor, where did you retrieve this weapon from?" Ingrid asked.

Byleth jerked her head towards the back of the room. "There was a dark mage trying to escape when the Dark Knight warped away from the scene. I killed him while the lights still blinded everyone. This sword was lying in the open tomb and I…grabbed it."

Dimitri gaped, jaws dropping. "Y-You just stole the weapon from Saint Seiros's tomb?!"

"I didn't steal it. I borrowed it," Byleth replied flatly. "Whatever it is, it proved to be a useful weapon against the dark mage. Not to mention…" Byleth paused for a moment, chewing over her words. "It…answered my call."

"Your call?" Felix's brows scrunched up as he stared at the sword in her hands.

Byleth nodded. "I don't know what it was, but when I grabbed it, all the fatigue and pain floated away from me. My senses dulled, and all sound faded away into the distance. Before I knew it, I could see the dark mage's movement clearly, even in the blinding light. Also, it won't stop giving off heat under my command." She waved the sword around, frowning. "It's like this weapon was made for me to use."

Mercedes perked up, eyes widening. "P-Professor, perhaps that object is—"

*Bang*

"Is the intruder here?!" Catherine's bellowing voice bounced down the corpse-ridden hall. "Oh, looks like we were a step too late. The action's done already."

Byleth shifted her gaze towards Catherine then hid the sword behind her back. She sent a meaningful look in her student's direction and nodded. "Forget the sword. For now, we get out of here and let the knights do the rest. Satiana, you are heading straight to the infirmary. Again."

Satiana pouted, head drooping. "Professor Manuela is not going to let me live this down…"

Felix snorted. "Yes, perhaps we may witness the doctor strangling their patient."

Satiana shut her mouth tight, the blood draining from her face. Sylvain's guffawing laughter rang inside her ears the entire time Byleth dragged her out of the Holy Mausoleum to her impending doom. As suspected, Manuela gave her an hour-long lecture about safety in the battleground. After that, Satiana swore to herself never to get hurt again.