— Frey Starlight's POV —
When I stood before the Ultras army, I thought I'd feel a storm of emotions.
Fear—from an army that embodied the full might of the Ultras.
Regret—over the suicidal decision I had just made.
Terror—at the unknown fate I was about to march into.
But to my surprise… I didn't feel any of that.
Despite the overwhelming number of enemies—foes unlike any I had ever faced—my mind was calm, my senses sharper than ever.
A blazing fire surged in my chest.
Anticipation.
A thrill that set my blood alight as I took that first step into the unknown.
The step that might finally sever the threads of fate wound around this body… a body that was never truly mine to begin with.
I knew the odds of dying were high—but I didn't care.
I wanted this.
To die, maybe.
But only after taking as many of those bastards with me as I could.
With every ounce of strength my body could muster, I lunged toward the witch who had ambushed us before.
Beatrice.
That was her name.
