Chapter 59: Anastasia [1]

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The moment Louis cut through Anastasia’s body; the girl thought her end had come. Instead, a brilliant beam of light consumed her mind and soul, transferring her consciousness into a vast desert of gray ashes beneath a black sky dotted with a few dozen faint stars.

In the center of this barren wasteland stood a large azure sword, forged entirely from divine ice that would never melt and harder than divine steel, a weapon born from the Dragon King’s own frost.

Beside it rested a smaller white sword made of ashen frost, fragile-looking like glass, with a writhing black shadow clinging to it that constantly shifted into countless forms.

“What… what is this place?” Anastasia wondered, glancing around in confusion. “Prince Louis attacked me?! But… did I die?! Why did he do that?! What’s going on? Hello? Hello?!”

She wandered the deserted ashen expanse, slowly approaching the blue sword. As she drew nearer, recognition dawned. This was the blade her beloved mother had wielded every day.

“Niflheim…?”

A whisper reached her, not in spoken words, but in a language sharp as a blade, each syllable piercing her soul and heart.

This was the Sword Heart Language.

“Anastasia…”

“Ugh…! Wha…! Who…? Is it really you?”

“Yes, it is me. Come closer.”

Anastasia pressed forward, yet the farther she walked, the more distant Niflheim seemed. Space did not behave normally in this strange realm.

“Why can’t I reach you?” she asked desperately. “Why?!”

“This is a Fantasy Domain within Prince Louis’ Fantasy Heart,” Niflheim answered.

“W-What?”

“When he struck you, he used his own Sword Heart to target your consciousness, splitting it and bringing you here temporarily,” Niflheim explained. “I do not know how he even discovered such a technique, but it succeeded. He is truly mad.”

“Haaa… so I’m inside his heart…” Anastasia murmured, awestruck. “Incredible… I had no idea swordsmanship could achieve something like this…”

“It can, and far more,” Niflheim replied. “The reason you cannot approach me is your lack of conviction. You seem afraid. Why are you like this, Anastasia?”

“A-Afraid?” Anastasia echoed. “I mean… my mother died, you know?! I’ve been crying this whole time… and suddenly that jerk of a prince cuts me down and throws me into this limbo… you think I’m happy?!”

“I see. You carry a great deal of pent-up emotion,” Niflheim observed. “Release it all. We must speak when both our minds are calm.”

“A-Are you really my mother’s sword?! Why did you never speak to me before?!” Anastasia demanded. “Why not?! Why do you care about me now that Mom is gone? You just want someone else to wield you… then why not let Louis do it? Why me?!”

“Because that is what Tisha wanted, dear. I cannot ignore my wielder’s final wish,” Niflheim said. “I am a Divine Sword. When Tisha asked me to fulfill her dying request, a special vow was forged. I cannot move on until it is complete. This has become my reason to exist.”

“…”

Exhausted from walking, Anastasia sat on the ashen ground and gazed at the dark sky and the bright stars above.

“Haa…”

She closed her eyes and tried to meditate. So many terrible things had happened in quick succession; coping with them all at once felt impossible.

“What am I supposed to do now? Am I trapped here forever?” she wondered.

“I do not know…” Niflheim replied.

“…” Anastasia looked skyward again, closing her eyes once more in an attempt to sleep, but rest would not come.

She opened her eyes, furrowed her brow, and slowly rose to her feet. She began walking forward again.

Yes, she remembered. Tisha would never have tolerated her sitting idly.

Her mother would have said, “Why are you slacking around all the time, Anastasia? Get up and go to work—you’re late!” or something similar.

Tisha had been a nagging mother who always pushed her daughter to keep moving, even when conviction faltered.

She was the one who secured Anastasia a job in the castle as a maid and who came every morning to wake her because Anastasia was so lazy she would sleep until one in the afternoon.

Every morning, every day, she had watched her mother prepare.

That woman never stopped smiling with confidence, brows furrowed in determination.

She had lived for thousands of years yet still carried herself like a young warrioress afraid of nothing.

Since her passing, their home had fallen eerily silent. Her absence hurt more than any wound.

“What’s gotten into you? You suddenly stood up?” Niflheim asked.

“I remembered that my mother would have nagged me if she saw me being lazy,” Anastasia sighed. “I don’t know why her memories feel so vivid here, as if they happened just a minute ago. Everything becomes clearer in this place. The more I remember her, the more I want to cry.”

“Well, I must admit that overcoming the loss of a loved one is indeed very difficult,” Niflheim said. “But I trust you can change your future.”

“What?”

“Anastasia, your mother’s final wish… I will transmit it to you. Through this unique space, I will show you exactly what she said to me.”

“…!”

Niflheim’s blade glowed. A beam of azure light pierced Anastasia’s forehead, flooding her mind with memories, scenes, voices, and sensations.

All of it converged into an imaginary world born from those recollections.

It was the ruined battlefield where Tisha had fallen.

Her body lay covered in wounds, black miasma devouring her life force.

Tisha watched with distant eyes as Gustaf and Helena risked everything to finish Soma after the chaos unfolded.

Both Espers wept as they fought, bodies bleeding, muscles torn. Even in his weakened state, Soma remained a monster that demanded their combined strength just to leave a mark.

Yet they cried not only from the struggle, but for everyone already lost—and because they could do nothing as Tisha slowly slipped away not far from them.

Faster, they had to end him faster!

But they could not.

After more than fifty thousand years, Tisha knew it was finally time to say goodbye.

To Anastasia’s surprise, her mother did not die in bitterness, even as she groaned in pain.

She died smiling, gazing at the darkened sky.

“Tisha! Let me freeze you! I can seal you in a coffin of ice, then we can revive you later!” Niflheim pleaded desperately.

But Tisha refused. “No, Niflheim… That will not work with this.”

“Tisha, don’t give up on me…! Where is your fighting spirit?!” Niflheim cried.

“Niflheim, please… listen… listen to me.”

“…? Wh-Wha… What?”

Tisha smiled through blood dripping from her lips, golden eyes glowing with hope for the future yet to come.

“If my life truly ends today, then I am fine with that…

I am truly grateful to have shared this long life with you, my dear friend…

We have faced countless challenges together, overcoming them one after another.

Yet as I lived this long life, I always… wondered if there was something more I could do.

I felt hollow, you know?

That is when I decided to have my dear daughter. I wanted someone to fill the emptiness growing in my heart.

Living a long life is not as joyful as one might imagine. That is why Drake has such a large family—he knows that without loved ones, he would drown in despair.

Life… is not meant to be lived this long.”

“T-Tisha… no… don’t leave me… Tisha!!!”

Niflheim begged her to stay as Tisha’s life faded, the light dimming from her eyes.

“Please… tell my daughter and my wife that I love them…

And tell my cute little Anastasia… that even if she was always a lazy bum… her mama always loved her and…

That she was… my greatest treasure…”

“I will…! Nnngh…! I will tell her that…!” Niflheim wept, icy tears falling from her blade. “Tisha…! Please…”

Tisha continued.

“Niflheim… please… teach my daughter the Path of the Sword… and help her one day… wield you…

I have nothing I want more than for my daughter to inherit my legacy, to pass down what I learned to the next generation.

That was all I ever wanted after living so long…

So please…

Protect my dear daughter and tell her that I…”

“Mom!”

Anastasia cried out, breaking through the memory and running toward her mother—only for the world to fracture and dissolve around her.

Just as she was about to reach her and speak, Tisha faded away—not without smiling… and looking directly at her.

“I love her more than she could ever imagine…”

With nothing left, Anastasia fell to her knees, clutching the ashes tightly as tears poured onto the dry ground.

“Aaahhh! Mom…! AAAHHHHH!”

She screamed, unleashing all her pent-up anger and frustration, slamming the ground in rage against a world that could so cruelly take away what mattered most.

This world truly chewed you up and spat you out.

“Did you see it now… Anastasia…?”

Niflheim’s usually firm voice trembled as she wept, small ice crystals falling from her blade onto the ashes below.

“A-Ah…”

Anastasia looked back at the living sword and realized she now stood directly before it. Her hand rested on the cold blade, frost slowly creeping up her arm.

“Uh… Yes… I saw…”

She pulled her hand away; the frost covering her skin melted and vanished.

Anastasia sat beside Niflheim and gazed at the starry night sky.

“Anastasia… I want you to understand the weight of this last wish. My soul is bound to it now. I cannot escape it… but I do not want to. Please… please… let me—and Louis—teach you the sword. Please… I beg of you.”

“…”

“This is how I mourn her—my beloved wielder, my beloved master… the only one I ever truly respected, the one my creator forged me for. Without her, I have no purpose. But she left a purpose behind: to become yours.”

“I… I know…”

Anastasia clenched her fists tightly, nodded, stood, and grasped Niflheim, holding the blade close.

“A-Anastasia?! Wait!”

She gripped the sword firmly and began pushing it upward from the ashen desert. Her hands froze until the ice reached her shoulders.

In the end, she could not pull it free.

“How strong do I need to be to pull you out?” Anastasia asked.

“You must master the Three Steps of Sword Breathing,” Niflheim explained. “This is only possible after enduring countless trials and pushing yourself to the brink of death. The prince had to starve for two weeks to master the first step.”

“…I see,” Anastasia nodded. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“It’s a pain… I don’t want to work hard, and I hate pain…” Anastasia sighed. “But there’s something I hate even more… and that’s failing to honor my mother and make her happy. Even if I’m a lazy woman who just wants to slack off, I will fulfill her wish… because I love her.”

“Thank you, Anastasia…”

“My mother wanted to pass on her legacy. That was why she had a child,” Anastasia said. “She wanted nothing more than to teach me, and I always ran away from her training to eat snacks, laze around, or do anything else… In the end, because of my own selfishness, I never learned a single thing from her, and I couldn’t even say goodbye properly.”

“Hm, I see. So that is your regret?” Niflheim asked.

“It is… it’s what makes me want to work even harder,” Anastasia replied. “Even though I hate it… so please, let me learn from you… or from Louis, I guess? Why him?”

“He was the one who approached me seeking guidance on the Sword Breathing Method and other matters,” Niflheim explained. “I planted a fragment of my consciousness inside his Fantasy Heart. In exchange for teaching him, he promised to help convince you to learn and then assist you in mastering the technique.”

“Okay… I get it now,” Anastasia nodded. “Let’s go back outside…”

FLASH!

In an instant, Anastasia opened her eyes and found herself on the floor, unwounded. Louis stood before her alongside Mirai.

Just moments ago this bastard had cut her down; she had truly believed he had lost his mind and killed her. Yet no wound remained.

Everything had healed miraculously, or rather, it had never truly happened.

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