Lumidouce Elegy

In the undercity that knows neither rain nor sun, she eked out a miserable existence, and for as little as a slice or two of moldy bread, She would not flinch from pulling out a rusty blade to take the life of someone as insignificant as herself. That the weak and cowardly inevitably become prey for the strong — this is the "natural order" that rules the Fleuve Cendre. As such, if some day the hunter should become the hunted, they should accept their fate as prey, Just as her late mother had taught her: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Looking back on her life, everything up to this point seemed utterly without meaning, with nothing achieved and nothing to hope for. Yet if this was the "natural" way of the world, then coming to accept this was surely a form of happiness in its own right? However, in spite of her expectations, death did not come. Opening one eye nervously, she looked up, To see a girl in strange attire smiling back gently, who then placed a flower — whence it came she knew not — behind her ear. "We call this flower a Lumidouce Bell, which in the language of flowers... means hope. Look, the color matches your hair." "You have such beautiful eyes. It would be such a pity if all they reflected was despair." "Come, little lass with the sapphire eyes, let me trade this flower for your heart." Thus did Marfisa, who would be later famed as a Champion Duelist, first step into the city above ground. Watching on from the luxury of a VIP box in the magnificent theater, she could no longer remember the smiling faces of the magician and their assistant on stage, Only how, as the fantasy played out, a profusion of flowers blossomed under the dazzling spotlight — bright, pure, and ever so strong. If she could walk in the sunlight as "naturally" as her, she would no longer need to hide in the ashes. Seeing this, she understood that she should yet cherish hope — that this life, having now seen the light, might blossom like Lumidouce. In this way, just as she dreamed, the girl born from the ashes finally stepped onto a stage of her own, And with no master passing down techniques but relying only on her own astonishing talent, all the spear-fighting techniques she had ever seen found expression in her performance. There was no mercy under the sharp edge of her lance, only showers of crimson, like a bed of scarlet roses falling for her alone. On stage, hers was a cold and noble figure that seemed to dance with "death" itself, Almost like the sapphire witch in Master Coppelius's famous work, who was said to be able to visualize fatal flaws. Life and death, victory and defeat, all was the way it should be, and so long as she acted in accordance with logic as she saw it, The path to "victory" would open up before her — irrespective of good, evil, and the so-called rules of the overworld. Until one day, finally reaching the end of her unbeaten streak, she was deceived by a swordsman's sly eyes, tricked by a deliberate slowing of the rhythm, Into revealing a fatal flaw of her own, her arm struck by his blade, forcing her to concede that her skill was inferior. "You have an interesting style of fighting, albeit slightly stiff, as if you follow a predetermined path." "But human hearts change, and in this world there is no such thing as a light that burns forever. Being a stickler for the rules is your weakness." "That said, your style seems to rely solely on the 'rules' you so trust in, hence your difficulty in abandoning them." "Perhaps you should consider changing your approach, and making 'that which is immutable' your 'rule' instead?" "For instance, take 'justice.' As the Golden Hunter put it, even should the sky fall and the earth be rent asunder, there would still be justice in the world." "What right do you surface dwellers have to speak of justice? Your skills may be slightly superior to mine, yet you need not lecture me so, all high and mighty." "Sooner or later, Hunter, there will come a day when you too will fall before my lance." Despite her reply, perhaps the man was right — crimes should be punished and lies exposed. This is how the world should be, justice prevailing over all. Otherwise, how could he have defeated her? As it was so, it made sense for her to be guided by justice, and offer up a cold elegy to those who would seek to evade judgment. And so, the girl born from the ashes abandoned her original set of rules, becoming a purple-clad enforcer instead, Upholding justice "as it ought to be," until the fire of Poisson brought the criminal Parsifal before her... ... Looking back on her life, everything up to this point seemed utterly without meaning, with nothing achieved and nothing to hope for. Yet if this was the "natural" way of the world, then coming to accept this was surely a form of happiness in its own right? But despite this, when she fell into those pure sourcewaters, all that had previously seemed self-evident lost its meaning. Up to the moment her memories dissolved in the water, she never knew that the Lumidouce Bell's true meaning in the language of flowers was never hope, Just as her late mother had taught her: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, And at the end of that long pursuit, even fate did not offer her the blossoming elegy that it ought to have.