thief of fate-Chapter 85: Moon Arrow

The sounds gradually faded, as if silence itself decided to bow before the approaching footsteps. Claire did not walk as one about to enter a battle, but rather as though she were strolling down a routine corridor in an old palace. Calm, cold, her gaze pale. Nothing in her face suggested that she was aware of the many eyes fixed upon her, nor those waiting for her fall or triumph.

On the other side, her opponent stood. A tall young man named Sivan. His eyes darted between the crowd and Claire, as if searching for something to bolster his ego. He swung two curved swords, their black metal like ink, slicing through the air with theatrical movements.

The crowd laughed when Sivan twirled his swords like spinning wheels, and one of them yelled, "Cut her in half before she blinks!"

But Valerian did not laugh. He sat, his hands on his knees, but leaned forward slightly when Claire entered the arena. This was not the first time he had seen her hold a bow, but this was the first time he would truly watch her fight.

Hmm... how will she begin? Will she surprise him? Or will she wait?

He asked himself, feeling a slight prick in his chest that he could not explain. Is he worried? No. Rather, he was curious to see her fight...

"Don’t get lost in your thoughts," Kyle said next to him in a low tone, his eyes on the arena, "From now on, every fight will teach you something."

Valerian looked at him for a moment before returning his gaze to his sister.

He understood that a person fights for something... but what is it that she is fighting for?

The announcer’s voice rose, declaring the beginning of the round, and Sivan let out a beastly roar and charged toward her, dragging his swords behind him like the tusks of a bull.

Claire did not move.

Then, simply, she raised her hand.

The bow appeared from nowhere. A silver bow, its quiet gleam, curved with the smoothness of a nocturnal bird’s wing.

Between her fingers, an arrow formed.

But it was no ordinary arrow. Its light was not white, but a faint gray, as if it were born in the light of a bashful moon hidden behind clouds.

An arrow... seems unnatural? Kyle whispered in astonishment, his eyes widening.

Claire shot the arrow.

There was no sound.

No roar, no whistle, not even a vibration in the air. The arrow vanished the moment it was launched.

Sivan stopped suddenly.

"What?!"

He bent his body for no apparent reason, then screamed and began wildly waving his swords in every direction.

"Where are you? Show yourself!"

The crowd laughed for a moment, but the laughter died down when the arrow appeared, lodged above his left shoulder, suspended in the air. Then... it shattered like glass.

"Did you see that?!" one of the observers shouted, "Her arrows... they disappear for a moment, then return."

"What is this..." Sivan mumbled as he slowly backed away, "Is this all you have?!"

Claire did not respond. She simply pulled another arrow.

This time, it was a pale blue, glowing like a distant flash.

"The Winter Moon?" muttered one of the spectators.

She shot the arrow.

When it struck the ground near Sivan’s feet, a wave of pure cold exploded, freezing his feet instantly, and a thin layer of ice formed on one of his swords, cracking the metal at its tip.

"Damn it!" Sivan cursed, retreating further, then lunged in a twisted attack, leaping into the air and closing the distance between him and her in a flash.

Claire did not move. She simply tilted her body slightly and dodged the strike as though she had known its location in advance.

Valerian thought with increasing amazement: She has control of the situation.

"Do you think you’re smarter than me?!" Sivan screamed, launching a series of random strikes.

Calmly, Claire pulled a third arrow. Its deep red color, pulsing like a heartbeat.

"Hah?!" Kyle exclaimed in true astonishment.

"What is she doing?!" Sivan shouted as he waved his sword to block the arrow, but when the arrow struck his sword, the latter broke in half, and his arm recoiled as though it had collided with iron.

He fell to his knees, panting.

But Claire did not advance. She did not rush to end the fight. She stood still, watching him.

"Get up!" shouted one of Sivan’s supporters, "You’re faster than her!"

But Sivan did not stand.

"Damn..." he muttered, then looked at her with eyes full of confusion, "You... you’re not human."

She responded for the first time, her voice soft and cold like glass breaking in water:

"No need for that."

The crowd fell silent for a moment. Then murmurs rose softly.

"Arrow?"

"Her bow... it doesn’t shine when she shoots, which means..."

"She’s not using energy like the rest... but something else."

But Valerian did not join in the murmurs. He was just watching, observing her eyes. There was no anger in them, nor even disdain.

She commands the field completely.

She shot another arrow. This time, it was yellow like the full moon.

The arrow split in the air into three copies, spinning around each other, then descended from above like swords dancing in a winding path.

Sivan tried to block... but he could not anticipate where the strike would come from.

He was hit in the shoulder.

Then he dropped to his knees again.

"Kill me face to face!" he screamed, "Show yourself! Fight me honestly!"

But Claire did not answer.

Sivan was panting, his body trembling from the cold, from fear, and from something he did not understand. He was still trying to get up, growling through his teeth, raising his broken sword, his eyes fixed on Claire.

But she raised her hand.

And the crowd’s noise suddenly died down, as though they felt something unusual.

Behind her, her bow appeared, this time... no, it was not pulsing, it was breathing.

Light gathered around her, slowly at first, then hastened.

Then, without warning, the air around her filled... with arrows.

Not just one, or ten, but hundreds.

All of them shining, glowing, as if the moon itself had been ripped from the sky and cut into a shower of arrows.

Their shapes varied, some pure silver, some icy blue, and others covered in a faint golden light, as if each arrow had its own moon, and each one had its own essence.

Sivan looked up at the sky above him, where the arrows had gathered in a semi-sacred arc.

"No... this is impossible..."

He tried to protect himself, but what shield could block a massacre from the heavens? What wall could stand against a full night being thrown at him all at once?

He raised his hands, his broken sword, and shouted:

"Stop! This is not a fight!"

But Claire did not say a word.

Calmly, she released the arrows.

They fell like rain. No, rain brings life... but these, they carried a desire to end the opponent’s life.

Sivan tried to run, duck, roll... but he did not have time.

Each arrow exploded in a different way. One opened a hole of ice beneath his feet. Another sounded with an explosive boom that shook his ears until they bled. A third did not strike him, but froze above him, emitting a blinding light that blinded him. They were arrows not meant to fight, but to command.

Above, King Yaram watched with steady eyes.

"How terrifying this family is..." he murmured to himself, his chest tightening silently, "Each of them... carries a cruelty that even the fiercest warriors do not possess."

He thought for a moment: Valerian, that boy who faced everyone’s gazes without flinching. Claire, the one who saw no end in blood. Raine, the best talent of this age. And Alexis, the genius.

He briefly turned to the back seats, where Edgar Lockard sat, with his usual composure, not moving a muscle in his face, as though the scene before him was merely a painting in an exhibition hall.

But inside... 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Well done, my little one.

He was not thinking with a voice, but with an ancient feeling slipping through his soul. That mysterious feeling that mixes pride and awe when you see a part of your soul manifest before you.

"Give up!" Sivan screamed, collapsing to the ground, raising his hand helplessly.

But Claire did not stop.

She fired another volley, faster, more intense, each arrow cutting through the air without mercy, and each light leaving an impression on the heart of anyone watching.

"Enough!" yelled the referee, running to the middle of the arena, waving the flag to stop the fight.

But even he... had to lean on his arm as he shouted, "The fight is over! The winner... Claire Lockard!"

Everything quieted.

The light vanished. The arrows disappeared as though they had never been. All that remained was Sivan’s body, exhausted, terrified, struggling to breathe on the frozen ground.

As for Claire... she turned calmly.

She did not look back, did not raise her hands, did not even smile.

She left as she entered. Still.

Like a machine programmed for murder, and she had finished her task.

In the stands, the crowd stood without applause.

For a moment... silence prevailed.

Then the murmurs began, followed by applause, then conflicting shouts.

"She’s a witch... she’s a witch!"

"Mad!"

"No... she’s the Angel of the Moon..."

"Did you see? She didn’t even blink!"

As for Valerian, he remained seated.

His eyes on her back as she left.

Claire... my sister... is this what it means to abandon your feelings?

He felt something strange in his chest. It wasn’t pride, nor fear.

But a confusing mixture of both... and an inner sensation that they, all of them, still didn’t truly know her.

Claire stopped at the stands and looked towards where Valerian was sitting among the seats.

Their eyes met, for a brief moment... but one filled with everything.

You don’t have to be like me.

She thought to herself, but didn’t linger on it for long, quickly turning her back as if to banish the thought before it could taint something inside her.

And suddenly, she realized she was smiling, a very cold smile, as if she were smiling at something distant... something she couldn’t reach.

Then she continued walking forward, leaving everything behind, including that moment she feared would overshadow her brother.