"Oh, man..!" Zidane winced, sitting up amidst the fallen cherry tree's remains.
"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" Sir Wulfweard inquired, helping him stand up.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine..." he grumbled, dusting himself off, "Geez, what's gotten into her to hit me like that?"
"That was one of Father Berlioz's miracles. He won't let anyone interfere with the Trial." the old soldier explained, "You should be grateful that he didn't kill you outright for trying to stop the ritual."
"What are you talking about? I don't get any of this supernatural shit..." the genome said, rubbing his sore lower back, "Tell me one thing: will Freya be alright?"
"Well... that depends entirely on her..." the veteran dragoon replied.
The king looked at Freya. She seemed to be sleeping, but at the same time she was levitating, wreathed in a strange mystical aura.
"I don't like the sound of that..." Zidane commented, unnerved by the sight of his friend floating, "Who's this Father Berlioz, by the way? I've heard her mention that name a couple times..."
"Father Berlioz was the original dragoon and the first sentient being to harness the power of draconic magic." Wulfweard replied, "He is the creator of the Dragon's Crest and our patron deity of war, death and the afterlife."
"That sounds pretty dark..." Zidane said before realizing about something, "Hold on a second, did you just say 'afterlife'?"
"Yes. Father Berlioz became so unfathomably powerful through the Crest's magic that he transcended mortality, managing to exist in spiritual form without being pulled into the Cycle of Souls. He is also capable of granting that gift to those he deems worthy of it."
The genome stared at the old soldier in utter disbelief.
"You mean it's not a myth what they say about burmecians not returning to the Crystal after death?" he asked.
"Well... not all souls manage to reach his domain, of course." Wulfweard clarified, "Only those who have obtained a Dragon's Crest through glorious combat are allowed into it."
Zidane recoiled in shock.
"Huh?! So if you are not strong enough to kill one of the most dangerous beasts on Gaia you're barred from the afterlife?!" he gasped, seeing now the disastrous trip to Popos Heights in a completely different light. "That's why Freya was so desperate to get her own Crest! Duuuude... I feel like crap now..."
"Why is that, if I may ask?" the burmecian inquired, bemused by the king's sudden vulgar commentary.
"Well... I went dragon hunting with her once, mainly because she was planning to do it alone and that got me worried. Those things ended up cornering us and we had to hide inside a freaking dragon pit latrine for almost a day... aaaand I might have gone bananas and called her an idiot for getting us stuck in that shithole of death." the genome sheepishly answered, scratching the back of his head, "In my defense, I was poisoned at the time, I didn't know anything about this and she insulted me first."
Sir Wulfweard blinked twice before bursting into laughter.
"Looks like good ol' Cherry will never change!" he exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" Zidane inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"During her years at the academy, she would constantly get herself and others into trouble because she wouldn't tell anyone when she was tired, sick, hurt or in pain." the old dragoon reminisced, "She thinks that asking for help, even when it would benefit everyone, will make her look weak. I understand her, though, even if I don't approve of her behavior... being the last heir to a heroic lineage would have turned me into an insane perfectionist too..."
"You look like an insane perfectionist yourself, if you ask me." the genome quipped, "I mean, what with that super-spy shtick of yours and freaking getting the jump on us at your... well..."
"... age?" the burmecian said, shooting him a sideways glare, "With all due respect, Your Majesty, a moogle could have killed you thrice tonight. You're recklessly exposing yourself and the kingdom by letting Cherry be seen at all, especially outside of the castle."
"I know..." the crestfallen genome answered, "I just couldn't handle seeing her like that. We've been through a lot together, you know?"
"I understand, but you can't afford letting your feelings endanger the millions of lives that depend on us." Wulfweard dryly retorted.
Zidane silently stared at Freya for a moment.
"There's gonna be a war, isn't it?" he muttered, feeling a lump in his throat.
"Not if we make things right before Ulrich attacks." the old soldier said, he then looked the king in the eye, "Do you know what's the purpose of the Trial?"
"You tell me, I have no idea what's going on..." the genome replied.
"The right to the burmecian throne is of divine origin. Lord Puck was the last direct descendant of Lord Athelric, the first Spear of Berlioz. With him out of the picture, the royal lineage is effectively extinguished and nobody can rightfully become king now... unless the Allfather gives someone his blessing." Sir Wulfweard explained.
"Wait... what?!" Zidane blurted out, utterly astonished, "You mean that Puck planned to have Freya become queen of Burmecia to take Ulrich down?!"
"It was supposed to be a last resort, since there is a very good reason for which no one has become king that way after Lord Athelric. The Box has been stolen multiple times by greedy aspirants to the throne and it has always ended with the royal family retrieving it from their charred corpses. Lord Berlioz is as powerful as he is merciless and only a single man has ever survived his Judgement."
"Ah, but Freya is Burmecia's strongest dragoon! She can do this, can't she?" the king nervously inquired, glancing at her.
"Strength alone is not enough to pass this test, I'm afraid." Wulfweard somberly stated, "It takes a singular, truly indomitable spirit to best Father Berlioz in a duel, especially in his own realm where the rules of this world do not apply."
Zidane gulped.
"W-what happens if she loses to him? I mean... he didn't even give her a choice!" he stammered.
"I don't know, for the circumstances of this Trial are unique..." the old dragoon answered, "But if we are really unlucky, he will consume her soul and destroy her body as he has done with every single defeated challenger.
Zidane's heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath and went silent, closing his eyes to focus on controlling himself.
"Your Majesty..?" Wulfweard said when he noticed the genome's hair starting to float as if he was underwater. The veteran dragoon flinched when a pair of blazing rhodonites stared into his soul, making his fur stand on end.
"I warn you, old man..." the king said, his voice horrifically distorted as if he was possessed by Ifrit himself, "if that happens, I will personally rip you apart, limb... by... limb..."
A blinding flash of light cut Zidane's threat short, allowing him to regain control. Both men stared in awe as Freya entered Trance while still unconscious, transforming into a burning, steel armored wraith.
"Shit..." the genome muttered.
A deafening explosion lit up the skies as Freya and Berlioz clashed above the ruined garden.
"What are you waiting for, child?! Show me your true strength!" the Allfather boomed, exchanging savage blows with the frenzied burmecian.
Freya roared like a beast before viciously headbutting him twice in quick succession, leaving him wide open for her to fire an energy javelin at his face. The resulting blast sent him plummeting to the ground, but the god recovered just in time to land on his feet with feline precision.
"Obstinate child..." he muttered as a hail of blazing spears rained from above, obliterating the area he was standing on. Freya growled in frustration when the dust settled, revealing that Berlioz had survived the onslaught largely unscathed while she was quickly getting exhausted.
"I warn you, girl: disappointing me is a foolish thing to do!" Berlioz shouted at her. He then plunged his fingers into his breastplate and teared it apart like paper, revealing a full-torso Dragon's Crest. Just like his head, his entire body seemed to be made of living, shifting shadows.
"This is what a real dragon technique looks like!" he howled as his Crest shone brighter than the sun itself, unleashing a myriad of dragon specters that homed in on Freya like rabid hellhounds. Even in her rage-addled state, she knew full well that flying away was futile, for they would relentlessly chase her until her Trance dissipated. She summoned a burning javelin to her hand and stared defiantly into the face of Death, ready to make her last stand.
"You ready, Frigg?" Kain Crescent uttered. He had recovered from Berlioz's devastating attack and was now standing in front of Freya's mother. The woman nodded and started running towards him.
"Now!" the giant shouted as Frigg leaped, landing onto his intertwined hands. "Mother Reis, give us strength!" they shouted in unison as Kain launched the lithe dragoon skyward with all his might.
"Freya!" Frigg yelled, rocketing towards her daughter at incredible speed.
"Mom..?" she uttered, her true self overcoming the monster upon seeing her mother entering the kill zone.
"Cherry Blossom! Now!" Frigg ordered. Freya blinked twice and nodded, focusing her remaining power into her energy javelin. "Here goes!" she shouted, throwing the charged projectile into the incoming wave of spirits.
Frigg imbued Kain's spear head with raw, unbridled spiritual force and aimed for her daughter's rapidly moving javelin. This time she didn't need to pray, for Reis blessed her spontaneously. She took a deep breath, comforted by the goddess' soothing presence and hurled the blade, divine magic guiding her arm.
"What the..?" Berlioz muttered when both weapons collided, bursting into a gigantic swirl of flower petals. The spectral dragons that he had summoned screamed and writhed in pain, igniting on contact with the burmecians' spell.
"Interesting... could she be the one..?" the Allfather wondered, smirking.
Completely drained by her final attack, Freya lost stability. Her Trance dissipated, making her plummet to the ground, but Kain was already on his way to catch her.
"Gotcha!" he exclaimed when he managed to grab hold of her, casting a fall-dampening spell immediately after.
"Thanks grandpa..." Freya muttered, hugging him tightly.
"Look at that, kiddo!" Kain said, pointing at Berlioz, who was calmly waiting for them, "Seems like the Trial is over! You did it!"
"Let's not lower our guards... he doesn't even look tired." Freya somberly stated.
"Hmph... yeah, you're right..." the giant agreed, softly landing on the garden.
"Come, children, I shall pass my final verdict on you." the Allfather ordered, summoning his throne out of thin air and sitting on it.
"How vain..." Freya thought while Kain lowered her to the ground. She then started walking towards Berlioz, giving the ruined cherry tree a disapproving stare as she passed it by.
"Kneel, girl. You may mourn the plants later." the deity scoffed.
The dragoon glared at him for a moment before falling on her knees, killing him a dozen times in her mind. Kain and Frigg approached her and quietly stood at her side.
"Kain, Frigg, well done. You have fulfilled your duties as Freya's champions admirably despite your blasphemous tendencies. As a reward, you will be allowed to properly bid her farewell before I send her back to Gaia."
"Thank you, My Lord." Frigg replied, heaving a sigh of relief.
Berlioz slightly nodded and shifted his attention to the youngest burmecian.
"I expected more from you, child." the god stated, "You may be remarkably strong by mortal standards, but you have shown little inventive, your technique is good, but you run out of tricks quickly and you can't control your Trance form, reducing you to flailing around like an animal."
Freya gritted her teeth and bit back a caustic retort before she got her family and herself into more trouble.
"However, there are two things that I want to congratulate you for." Berlioz continued, "First of all, you may be a blasphemous, whiny heretic with a pathetically underdeveloped Crest, but you fought me, a god of war, with nothing but your own strength. Countless accomplished dragonslayers have challenged me for millennia but only you have survived, despite refusing mid-battle to use divine or draconic enhancements. If there is one thing I respect, woman, it's courage, even when it borders on suicidal foolishness."
"Heheh..." Kain chuckled, filled with pride.
"The second thing is that interesting technique of yours, the last one you used. How do you call it?" the god inquired.
"It's called 'Cherry Blossom', sir..." she answered.
"Cherry Blossom..." Berlioz repeated, "Tell me, how does it work? I've never seen a dragon spell that doesn't require divine assistance to be cast."
Freya hesitated. She looked at her mother, asking for permission to answer. Frigg nodded affirmatively.
"It uses spiritual energy just like any other dragon technique, sir." the dragoon reluctantly explained, "What changes is the catalyst that gives the spell its nature and form."
"And what is that... 'catalyst' of yours?" the god asked, incapable of hiding his interest.
Freya's ears turned red with embarrassment. She had always hated how corny the answer to that question sounded.
"True love, sir..." she muttered.
"Huh..?" Berlioz uttered, before bursting into laughter, the ground quaking due to the sheer loudness of his voice, "Gwahahahaha! That's a good one! I didn't know you had a talent for comedy, child!" he exclaimed.
"I'm totally serious, sir..." she grumbled. Frigg frowned at Berlioz's rudeness. The Allfather cleared his throat and went back to glaring at Freya.
"Hmph... anyway, you two managed to legitimately counter my Dragon's Crest with it. I went easy on you with that technique, using the exact same amount of souls that your enemy, Ulrich, possesses." the god stated. Freya's ears twitched at the mention of the usurper's name and Berlioz noticed it. "Yes... you want to kill him for what he's done to your friends, don't you?" he said with an unnerving, murderous grin.
"I'm not interested in vengeance, sir. I just want to stop him before he starts a war." the dragoon replied, unsure about how truthful her answer really was.
"Well, here's my offer: I want that rat dead as much as you do, but you lack the strength to take on his Crest's power on your own. Even if I despise him, I can't allow my chosen Spear to be a weakling like yourself." Berlioz said before standing up, summoning his weapon back to his hand, "That can be helped, though. You have the potential to become an even greater warrior than Athelric himself... if you are willing to do what's necessary to attain such power."
Freya's thought processes went hectic when she considered the prospect of becoming a Spear of Berlioz. For starters, she had never truly liked the god, but now she hated him with a passion: turning into his top enforcer was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do with her life. Besides, defeating Ulrich after gaining Berlioz's favor meant that the Crescent bloodline would become royalty, which was already a big problem on its own, even before taking into account that she was...
"Ughhh..." she grumbled, thinking about the power void that she would probably leave behind after passing away if she followed through with this plan. However, if she succeeded, she could put an end to Ulrich's machinations once and for all, preventing any further bloodshed until she figured out what to do next.
"Well, what will you do?" Berlioz inquired.
"I..." Freya stammered, her very fate depending on her answer, "I..."
"My patience has a limit, child..." the god snarled.
"I'll... do it." she sighed.
"Good..." the Allfather said. He then rested his blade upon Freya's shoulder. "Open the Box and follow the Obsidian Star to my... bastard son's domain. Travel by airship and don't bother with maps, just keep going in the same direction and he will find you. I'm sure he will be overjoyed to see you again, for you have already killed him once."
Freya gulped. Of course she had to go visit that demi-god.
"Train with him until you unlock your full potential and challenge me when he deems you ready. You have three months. If you don't make it to Gizamaluke's hideout within that time limit, I will consider our agreement null and void. You better hide under a rock or something if that happens, because if I see you again, I will destroy you. Am I clear, girl?"
"Yes, sir." she replied.
"Good... here is a little reward for surviving my test and a reminder of the oath you took." Berlioz said, bestowing upon her the dubious honor of divine knighthood. His weapon started radiating a strange purple light and Freya's Crest reacted to it with its own glow, "A taste of the power that I'll grant you if you prove yourself worthy of serving me."
Raw magic started flowing through the dragoon's veins, heightening her senses even further. She didn't know why, but she felt truly unstoppable now.
"If you have any questions, you better ask them now." the Allfather said.
"I have two questions, sir." Freya said, "First: how long does it take to reach Master Gizamaluke's domain by airship from Alexandria?"
"You should be able to reach it in a day and a half at most with one of the newest ships." the god stated.
"Great. Second question: is there any way I can better prepare myself for Master Gizamaluke's training?"
"Yes: get ready to die." Berlioz dryly replied, sending shivers down the burmecians' spines, "You won't be able to outlive our next encounter should mortal ties still burden you by then."
His brutal answer made Freya's heart sink. A nearby splash of red caught her attention: a batch of her mother's tulips had somehow survived the battle. The sheer irony of it made her smile: like them, she had only delayed the inevitable until the end of spring.
"I understand." she replied, raising her head to look Berlioz in the eye. "May I start tying up loose ends by spending a moment with my family, sir?"
"Hmph... permission granted." the Allfather conceded, "Just don't waste too much of my time, mortal."
Having said that, Berlioz vanished into thin air, the skies clearing after his departure. Freya stood up and turned around, offering her loved ones the warmest smile she could muster. They lost no time in embracing her tightly, reveling in the chance of resuming their violently interrupted reunion.
"I hope you still like lemon tea with lots of honey, darling..." Frigg whispered in her daughter's ear.
"Of course I do, mom." Freya answered, resting her muzzle on her mother's shoulder.