Sixty-Nine: Choice
A scarlet whirlwind speared into the heavens.
Within pitch-black stormclouds, a white streak flashed; the black Demon afloat on high lifted its long blade.
A single lightning lance tore the downpour shrouding Morris.
Black crashed against blood-red; metal slammed on metal like iron thunder.
Void hammered flesh; the roar swept clean the hush this city had hoarded.
Centuries bottled since 2300 hurled their first spear at the Black Sun’s vault.
“What should I do?”
Her heart twisted like a wet rope. Lilith stood alone in the rain.
The Black Swordsman stood beside her, his helm slick with sheets of water.
The deluge soaked the Little White Dragon’s white horns; her soft hair plastered her cheek like silk leaves.
It rinsed blood and mud off the knight’s plates, ran as gray rivulets into the sodden earth.
Lilith lifted her gaze. Black and red brawled like storm and fire.
She saw Elasha condense a colossal scarlet greatblade and shatter the violet void Eve had summoned.
She saw Eve draw a second blade from within herself and rip apart the scarlet vortex around Elasha.
Elasha held the upper hand. At this pace, Eve would fall soon.
She couldn’t halt Elasha’s charge toward the Black Sun, yet she remained a stone on that road.
Lilith didn’t know how long the Vampires’ stored blood could hold, like cisterns under strain.
She feared a single stalled minute would tip their war with the Black Sun.
Eve wasn’t the calamity they needed to face.
She came for the True Ancestor, then struck at the treasure’s rightful bearer to take it.
She wanted to act; she refused to watch Eve obstruct Elasha’s assault.
But what could she do? The battle above had left her ground far behind.
She’d lost the powers of Hero and Saint; her spirit felt emptied like a husk.
Now she was only a not-yet-grown White Dragon, ordinary among the nests.
Among dragons, she wasn’t yet called a warrior; her claws felt dull.
Her Shattered Ark lay shattered; forget the two figures in the sky—walking back to Dragon Territory was a trial.
What else could she do now?
“Don’t ask what you should do, Lilith. Ask what you want to do.”
The Black Swordsman stood at her side, rain drumming his gauntlets like cold drums.
He clenched a rust-scarred iron sword, an old shadow in a storm.
“Lilith, you aren’t the White Holy Maiden anymore, yet you still live in that robe.”
His muffled voice came through the heavy helm; sharp eyes gleamed through the slit like twin knives.
“The Demon King is dead, and you inherited all His authority like a dark crown.
You’re no longer humanity’s White Holy Maiden; you’ve become the dragons’ cherished Little White Dragon.
The power you relied on left like a receding tide, but a new tide rose for you to lean on.
Look—your violet eyes turned deep as the Star Canvas, blue as a midnight sea.”
His tone carried winter warmth and old memory; he stood by the little dragon but seemed to watch a ghost of the past.
“Not just me—Vera and Mona feel it too.
Their lingering souls can’t speak easily, so they never told you.”
“You aren’t that girl bound by duty and expectation anymore.
Lilith, you’re a free White Dragon, wind under your wings.
Stop sorting the world into should and shouldn’t; ask if your heart wants it.”
“I… want it or not?”
Lilith tilted her head, trying to catch the meaning like a drifting leaf.
“Yes, Lilith. Ask your heart, ask the deepest self at the root.
What do you want? Do you want to help the Vampire Princess?
Do you want to stop that battle clawing the sky?”
“I…” Her eyes climbed the storm.
Eve had just lost half an arm; scarlet blood fanned out like petals.
Elasha drew it into her own blood like a red tide taking the stream.
“I want…”
Lilith lowered her gaze to the sword-hilt in her hand.
Her Broken Sword lay shattered; she had no path to those clouds.
No.
One path remained.
Lilith extended her left hand; dim sigils shimmered on her white skin like buried fire.
“I want to help Elasha. It should be me who defeats Eve.
Elasha should face only the Black Sun; nothing else belongs on her shoulders.”
Resolve pooled in her like a hot spring; she would join this struggle.
“But… can I trust this power?”
The little dragon’s brow furrowed, worry folded like wet paper.
The force housed in her left hand wasn’t a door she could fling wide.
She feared a loose release would wrap all of Morris in Taint, like creeping dusk.
Would she become a second disaster after the Black Sun?
“You’re afraid you’ll be the next Demon King,” said the Black Knight, calm as iron.
“You dread the Taint eating your reason and feelings, turning you into a wraith of filth.”
“Yes,” Lilith murmured, her gaze drooping like a wilting flower.
“I’m afraid I’ll become that. And I’m afraid I’ll make others become that.”
“Don’t worry. You still have us.”
A touch landed on her head—cool, firm, like a gloved palm under rain.
The Little White Dragon looked up.
The Black Swordsman was gently rubbing her hair, an awkward tenderness in a storm.
Behind him stood every companion who had once fought at her side, shadows with warm eyes.
“We’re right here by you. It’s only Taint—our old defeated foe.”
The Black Swordsman withdrew his hand, slid the rusted blade into its scabbard, and offered a clean knight’s salute.
“Go, Little White Dragon. Do what you want to do.”
“Just like you used to say:
I honor those who step forward, not those who fall into quiet ruin.”
“Go do it. Do what you want.”
“Cast off hardship and doubt like wet cloaks. Step out, brave and bright.”
“Go, and sweep all evil away like a clear wind.”
