Date a Bride (Date A Live Fanfiction)

It happened right around the moment her sense of time began to slip, as though reality itself had fractured.

The deafening roar, the blinding light—they had drawn so close, overwhelming her senses—and then...nothing.

"Mm~"

A gentle warmth spread beneath her, soothing and unfamiliar. She could feel the faint texture of fine granules pressing against her skin, soft and yielding, like sunlit sand.

"H-Huh?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, and fragments of awareness began seeping back into her mind.

"...W-What happened?"

The words barely slipped from her lips, a hoarse whisper that felt strange even to her own ears.

She froze, suddenly aware of the oppressive darkness surrounding her—vast, thick, and unyielding.

For a heartbeat, she wasn't sure if her eyes were open or closed. The world felt suspended, as though she were trapped in some half-dream, caught between waking and sleep.

No... they were open. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes, still heavy with confusion, blinked rapidly.

The blinding light that had consumed her moments before was gone, and her vision slowly started to return, like a fog lifting.

"What in...?"

The words faltered as she took in her surroundings. The air was heavy, still, and there was a faint, almost rhythmic pulse in the darkness.

Slowly, her gaze drifted upward—glowing green streams of energy drifted through the blackness, swirling around her like ethereal wisps.

They pulsed, soft and steady, casting an eerie glow that painted the void around her with an unsettling vibrancy.

Her eyes tracked the trails of light, following them to their source—and froze. The light... it was coming from her own body.

It wrapped around her, an unnatural glow that shimmered like liquid moonlight, curling and shifting around her like mist as if alive.

Before she could fully process the surreal sight, something else brushed against her—warmth, a soft pulse that spread across her face like the beat of a distant drum.

Then, a sharp burn ignited in her left eye, the warmth intensifying as her vision turned a deep, unsettling red. She blinked, instinctively reaching up to brush it away.

Her fingers came away stained with red—blood.

It was only then, as her gaze dropped, that the full story resurfaced in her memory. Bruises marred her arms, burns seared her skin, and cuts—still fresh—bled freely, painting her body in vivid streaks of red.

Her wedding dress was torn, soaked in blood and soot, her hair tangled and singed at the ends.

"W-What..."

She took a shaky breath, letting her hand fall to her side.

Her eyes drifted upward, absorbing her surroundings. The faint green glow still radiated from her skin, casting an eerie light that illuminated the immediate area. Long shadows stretched across rough, jagged walls that loomed around her.

She was trapped inside something.

Dark, dense walls, blackened like coal, formed an unnatural cage that encased her.

Memories returned in fragmented flashes, and for a moment, she held her breath, suspended between past and present, struggling to piece together the nightmare.

"H-How... am I alive?"

Slowly, she raised her hand, fingers outstretched, as if reaching to brush the surface of the cage.

And as she did...

"!?"

It crumbled with a brittle sound, breaking apart into millions of jagged shards that scattered around her like fragments of old glass.

She flinched, her eyes widening as the barrier fell away, leaving her exposed to the worldbeyond.

"N-No..."

Before her stretched a desolate expanse—an empty land stripped of life. The ground was a flat, endless blanket of ash, dark and silent, stretching as far as she could see.

Her eyes swept over what had once been a thriving jungle. Now, only faint traces of roots poked through the ash, and the remnants of trees were nothing more than soot and char.

Scattered across the land, the last stubborn flames clung weakly to the earth, flickering and shrinking as they consumed what little was left.

At the edge of the island, the ocean circled the desolation, its waves lapping at the shore, pulling what was left of the land away in thin, steady streams—moving indifferently, taking the island piece by piece.

She sat still, her breaths shallow, hands curled tightly at her sides. Her fingers trembled, but she kept them pressed against her legs, digging into the fabric as though grounding herself in the present. Her eyes moved slowly across the landscape aimless, until—

"!"

In the corner of her vision, something caught her eye, lying motionless on the ashen ground.

Gray leaves and brittle vines, dried and fragile, were tangled around a form she knew, though her mind fought to deny it.

Her heart raced, thoughts tumbling over one another, each crashing forward like a train out of control. That shape—so familiar—obscured by the decaying foliage...

"E-Ember?"

The name escaped her in a whisper, fragile and uncertain, as if speaking it aloud might turn the illusion she so desperately hoped was unreal—real.

Her legs buckled beneath her, trembling as she sank, knees giving way, though it was hard to tell whether it was the shock from the chaos that had unfolded so quickly, or the sight of her friend lying motionless, that drained her of all strength.

She tried to rise, to move forward, but her body refused her.

"Emb... E-Ember..."

Desperation twisted her voice, but there was no answer.

So she crawled,inch by agonizing inch, reaching for it, her heart pounding louder with each second.

It looked just within her reach but somehow felt infinitely far, like the ground was stretching out between them—like she was moving throughmuddy water, her outstretched hand never quite reaching.

"E-Ember..."

She whispered the name again, barely able to get it past her lips, and as she reached out—as her fingers shook with uncertainty. She was afraid to touch it.

She tried to pull Ember close, to cradle them in her arms, but all she could grasp was a handful of dead leaves, which crumbled away like dust in her palm.

"N-No..."

She looked back at Ember, her heart tightening as her gaze met the empty, dull stare of her companion. No glint of recognition, no spark of life—only a hollow, lifeless void.

"Ember..." she whispered the name in a broken plea.

Again and again, she called out, her voice growing softer with each attempt, her hand hovering just above its body, afraid to touch it fully, fearing it would crumble entirely, vanishing like a whisper in the wind.

"!"

A sudden breeze picked up, stirring the ashes around them... She turned toward the gust, shielding Ember's body instinctively, as if the wind could sweep it away for good.

"Emper please..."

Her vision blurred, but it was only as she blinked that she realized tears were clouding her sight. The tears fell freely now, unstoppable.

"W-We just met... we didn't even get to spend time together... I thought... I thought we agreed you wouldn't leave without my permission..."

Her vision blurred again as fresh tears brimmed, sliding down her cheeks and staining the dust-covered ground below.

She could no longer stop them, nor did she try to.

The wind slipped through her arms, relentless and indifferent, brushing past her as though her attempt to shield Ember meant nothing. She tightened her embrace, but the faint, swirling gusts seemed to carry something intangible—a shadow, a whisper—gently peeling it away from Ember's lifeless form.

Unseen, a figure stood just beyond the reach of the wind's touch, watching the scene in silence.

Artemisia's eyes remained fixed on the trembling girl before her, her expression unreadable, shadowed by the faint flickers of dying embers.

Her wiring suit was torn from her chest to her stomach and a painful wound was carved on her white skin. Maybe she managed to stop the blood with her Territory, but the blood that splashed out when she got the wound left a red bloodstain on her purple armor.

A dried trail of blood traced down from her forehead to her chin, marking her face with a faint, crimson line against the paleness of her skin. Her once semi-braided hair now hung messily around her shoulders, strands sticking to her cheeks, damp from the sweat and ash that clung to her.

It was clear she had barely survived a deadly battle before reaching this place.

"That creature actually managed to shield its master from an entire airship cannon blast—equivalent to a small nuclear detonation... all while it was already on the brink of death..."

Her gaze swept across the crumbling landscape. Large portions of the island were collapsing, swallowed piece by piece by the relentless ocean—the island was sinking.

"And it didn't act alone..." she continued, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The Reiryoku that gave life to this place... every last bit of it was harnessed by the creature to shield its master. The entire island sacrificed its energy for this one moment."

She turned her gaze back, and any lingering trace of pity—something she hadn't even realized she held—vanished from her eyes. Her focus sharpened as she noticed a faint glow of energy—Reiryoku—shimmering around the spirit's body.

As the ethereal light touched each injury, the torn flesh began to mend, knitting itself back together as though the damage had never been. Even the spirit's tattered clothing seemed to repair itself under the Reiryoku's influence, the threads weaving together in a silent, almost defiant act of restoration.

"Why doesn't she just give her pet some of her own Reiryoku to save it...?"

The thought flickered through Artemisia's mind, only to be followed by a bitter realization.

"Tch! That heartless monster..." she muttered under her breath, her jaw tightening as she watched the twisted scene unfold.

The spirit lay prostrate over the creature, her face streaked with tears, whispering words that, to an unknowing eye, might have seemed genuine—grief, sorrow, perhaps even remorse.

But Artemisia's gaze cut through the illusion. She saw the faint glow of Reiryoku weaving over the spirit's own wounds, a quiet hum of energy mending flesh and stitching muscle. It would take so little, just a fraction of that energy, to save the creature's life.

Yet no, she let it suffer, clinging to life by a thread, its pain merely fuel for her show of grief. It wasn't love or loss that held her by its side—it was a ploy, a calculated act, designed to soften, to deceive, to make her seem vulnerable.

Artemisia sneered, watching the girl's crocodile tears fall on the beast's silent agony.

"She's trying to draw me in,"

The spirit wasn't mourning; she was scheming, trying to pull her guard down with this charade, luring her closer with feigned vulnerability.

Artemisia strode closer, her steps deliberate, each one crunching over ash and charred earth until she finally spoke,

"You can drop the act now—you're fooling no one, Code name: ."

The spirit flinched, her hand still hovering protectively over the creature, Ember.

She tilted her head slightly, almost daring to turn fully toward the voice.

But as the wind kept rising, stirring more ashes around her, she stopped, frozen in place...

"Please..." She couldn't be certain whose voice she was hearing. Her face stayed bowed to the ground.

"E-Ember..."

A faint whisper escaped her lips, scattered and broken like fallen leaves in the wind.

"Ember needs... help, please... I—I'll do anything. Just save Ember... please..." Her voice cracked, each word tumbling out in fragments, unsteady and jagged as if each syllable fought its way out of her breath.

Artemisia's stance grew rigid; her fingers flexed as her grip tightened on her sword. Her gaze bore down on the spirit, unyielding, daring her to continue.

"Save the performance," she interrupted, her tone laced with a sharp edge that cut through the spirit's fractured pleas.

She raised her arm slightly, not in mercy but in seething accusation, "If you really wanted to sell this pity act, you'd have hidden your Reiryoku."

"R-Reiryoku?"

Artemisia's eyes narrowed, her patience seemed to thin with each passing second.

"That Reiryoku coursing through you—" Her gaze drifted over the glowing green energy that pulsed faintly, sluggishly, through the spirit's broken form. "It's more than anything this island has ever contained. Do you even realize what that means?"

The spirit faltered, the faint light around her flickering uncertainly.

Still shelding Ember's form, she glanced down at her own form. Her hands trembled as they reached up, tracing the ghostly glow clinging to her—a foreign energy she'd never fully understood.

"Reiryoku..."

The word caught in her throat as she struggled to focus, willing herself to reach out with all her heart, her voice.

"Ember... take it..." She extended her hand, wrapping her arms around Ember as if to contain it, though she still didn't dare touch it directly.

She willed the energy to pour forth, to flow into the emptiness where Ember's presence lay still and unresponsive.

"It's not working... WHY ISN'T IT WORKING?"

"WHY WON'T YOU TAKE IT?"

Silence answered her, broken only by the faint flicker of Reiryoku swirling defiantly.

"H-Help me! How can I give it to Ember? Please... someone... help me!"

Artemisia's composure shattered as she stepped forward, her sword raised high.

"ENOUGH!"

With swiftness, she swung her blade.

A powerful force erupted, an invisible gust slicing through the air with deadly intent. It barreled toward the spirit, striking the ground with shattering force, and tore through the earth as it connected.

"Ngh... Aaaaah!"

The spirit was thrown backward, her form tossed like a rag doll, leaving a trail of dust and debris as she tumbled across the fractured ground.

Finally, she came to a stop, lying motionless against the jagged earth. Her breaths came shallow, barely stirring the dust around her.

"Sir Westcott was right when he described your kind..."

The voice above her sneered, "A mindless, selfish creature that will do anything for their own benefit."

But her mind barely registered the words as she hurriedly lifted her gaze toward—

"E-Ember..."

A faint ringing buzzed in her ears, her vision swimming, blurring, and sharpening in uneven waves. Finally, through the dim light of smoldering flames scattered across the charred landscape, her eyes settled on what lay before her.

"!"

Tiny fragments floated in the air—a haunting mix of dead leaves and ash, swirling like dust caught in an invisible current. The pieces drifted upward, weightless, as if drawn by a wind that carried every last trace of warmth and life into the dark sky above.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

She tried to stand, her legs trembling as she willed them to carry her forward, to run, to shield her partner—her friend—before it was too late.

But there was still no strength in her legs, no energy left to lift her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, crumbling to the ground.

"EMBER!"

Still, she didn't care. She clawed her way forward, scraping against the ash-covered ground, her fingers digging through the dead soil as if sheer will alone could close the distance.

Her hand stretched toward the floating fragments, reaching, grasping, desperate to hold onto any last piece of Ember.

"EMBER—!"

But before her hand could reach, an iron grip clamped around her neck, yanking her back and pinning her to the ground. Her breath hitched, and she gasped, hands instinctively flying to the wrist holding her by the nick down.

"Nggh!"

Artemisia loomed over her, eyes blazing. "Can't you see? I'm not falling for your damn cheap act!" Her grip tightened, pressing down with unyielding force. "STOP IT!"

As she struggled to gasp for air, the spirit's eyes caught the last glimmer of Ember's fading fragments, vanishing into the smoke and the darkness of the night sky.

It was gone...

The only friend I could've trusted...I ever trusted... gone.

What did I do wrong?

Artemisia watched as the spirit's eyes, wide and hollow as if staring into hell itself, slowly lowered. They drifted shut, a single tear slipping down as they finally closed.

"You!" Artemisia snarled, flipping her sword and pointing the blade directly at the spirit's throat. "I'll end this whole damn—ngh!"

But before she could finish, the spirit's fingers suddenly tightened around her wrist.

What did I do to deserve this?

What did I do to earn their hatred—to deserve her anger and grudge?

I don't even know who this woman is. And I'm sure we had only just met. Then why...

Slowly, the spirit turned her face toward Artemisia, her eyes opening, and a faint, unsettling sound—a creak of clenched teeth—broke the silence.

I was raised to be kind... to give people the benefit of the doubt, no matter how they treated me.

"W-What's with that look?"

Artemisia tried to pull her arm away, but it was no use. The grip held, unyielding, as the spirit's gaze bore into her.

For my whole life, I've tried to be a good person—to shoulder the pain of others, to give up my happiness so they could find theirs.

"Let go of my hand, you damn spirit!"

Even when I was betrayed by the very ones I thought were on my side, I created an illusion... an illusion that it was my fault, not theirs.

The spirit's grip tightened even more around Artemisia's wrist, and she began to fear that if she didn't free herself, the spirit could take her arm off.

I only asked to be left alone, to try and heal, even if I was sure it wouldn't work.

Amid the whirlwind of events, Artemisia completely forgot about the lightsaber she had aimed at the spirit's throat.

And when I thought hope had finally appeared—the one I could trust to stay by my side and not betray me—they simply took it away.

The life I believed I could finally build a connection with had turned to ash...

I've had enough.

Just then, Artemisia's fingers brushed against the saber handle, and she remembered what was still within her grasp. With a sudden surge of determination, she tightened her hold on the hilt.

"Damn you!"

Without hesitation, she swiftly pulled the pointed blade down, aiming to deliver a decisive blow.

"!"

Just to suddenly be launched away by an unseen force, Artemisia's body was propelled through the air with violent speed.

"Ngh!"

Her vision blurred as she tumbled, the world spinning around her.

She planted a hand on the ground, dragging her speed to a halt.

"Agh... W-What..."

Gritting her teeth, she clutched her chest, wincing as the wound reopened, blood beginning to seep out. But she forced herself to her feet, her grip on the lightsaber tightening.

"What was that...Wh-?!"

Artemisia caught sight of the terrifying scene before her.

The spirit loomed, rising with an unseen force. Its back bent upward at an unnatural angle as it was pulled upward mid-air.

With a sudden, bone-chilling snap, the spirit's body straightened and descended to the ground, its knees spreading to the side as it sank into a crouch.

The green color of the glow that once surrounded the spirit moments ago changed, becoming a dark, ominous hue that spread out towards the sky.

Just then, the idea of what was happening crossed Artemisia's mind...

"The inverse... of Sephira..."

The words barely left Artemisia's lips as she watched the unfolding scene before her.

- The spirit's body turned black, radiating with an unsettling darkness.

In the next moment, a torrent of pure dark particles erupted from her, melting her dress like sludge as they seeped into the ground and dispersed in every direction.

The vibrant flowers in her headband withered and shriveled, their colors fading to a dull, lifeless hue.

In their place, thorns twisted and curled, their barbs gleaming ominously, transforming the once beautiful adornment into a menacing crown of thorns.

"This is..."

The thorns spread from the crown, twisting downward in a web of sharp tendrils, tearing through the delicate fabric of her wedding dress before merging with the fabric itself. They coiled around her arms, creeping slowly toward her fingers, where they elongated into long, razor-sharp claws.

Blood seeped from the wounds where the dry, twisted vines pressed, tracing dark veins that pulsed ominously beneath her chest.

The spirit didn't even flinch. Her hands remained still, her face hidden in the shadows cast by the dying flames nearby.

Artemisia was left speechless as she watched the thorns feed on the spirit's blood, turning red as they absorbed it.

But through the terrifying scene, one thought came to her mind:

"She wasn't acting..."

This thought struck her for one simple reason.

For a spirit to turn into its inverse form, it had to be exposed to some deep, suppressed negative emotion. And seeing the spirit before her transform could only mean that was exactly the case.

"Then...then why didn't she save—?!"

Artemisia couldn't finish her sentence before the earpiece in her left ear began to beep.

"If it's about the inverse, I already know—"

Artemisia responded right away, expecting a report from the airship crew above her about the spirit's inversion. Instead, she heard a familiar voice from the other end.

"Artemisia-san, please withdraw immediately!"

"E-Ellen-san?"

It was Ellen Mira Mathers, a beautiful, deceptively young-looking woman who was the secretary to Sir Isaac Ray Pelham Westcott, one of DEM's chief executives.

"W-What do you mean by withdrawing? Do you perhaps doubt my ability to handle an inverse spirit?"

There was a brief moment of silence between Artemisia's question and Ellen's response, but Ellen's eventually answered.

"The team overseeing this mission alongside you has taken independent actions. They are preparing to deploy the Astral Cannon against the spirit."

Artemisia's eyes widened.

"T-The Astral Cannon?!"

The words barely left her lips in shock. It was an expected reaction—after all, the weapon about to be used was no ordinary one.

The Astral Cannon was a devastating weapon housed in a space station owned by DEM, orbiting the Earth. Beyond its strategic value, the station was the core of a weapon capable of storing the power of the sun.

Capable of storing up to 30 years' worth of solar energy, it currently holds 5 years' worth, more than enough to unleash devastation unparalleled by any human-made weapon.

Nuclear bombs, hypersonic weapons, thermobaric weapons—all those paled in comparison to what the Astral Cannon was capable of.

Except for the first spirit, it was believed that no spirit could survivea direct strike from it. Thought, Despite its formidable power, it was intended as DEM's last resort, given the catastrophic aftermath it left behind.

"Ellen-san, what do you mean? They're going to use the Astral Cannon? That's overkill! No, first of all, how did they get permission to use it—"

"Artemisia-san, there's no time to debate. The decision is made. You must withdraw immediately to avoid being caught in the blast radius."

Artemisia's mind raced. She understood the Astral Cannon's power, and its activation now could mean total devastation for the area—perhaps even neighboring countries, especially Japan. And if she didn't retreat, it would certainly mean her end as well.

Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on the lightsaber, her eyes locking back onto the spirit, still caught mid-inversion.

If she poured all her power into a single strike, she might render the spirit unconscious and take her captive. She knew better than anyone that Westcott wanted the spirit alive, not dead.

However...

"Artemisia-san, Sir Westcott's orders are to leave the spirit and withdraw alone. The teleportation device is about to be activated. Prepare yourself."

Ellen's voice cut through her thoughts as if she had read Artemisia's mind. The choice was made for her; the only option left was to obey.

"Understood..."

Even if she disagreed, even if she couldn't comprehend their reasoning, there were no other options.

An ethereal glow began to emanate from her body, enveloping her in light. In the blink of an eye, Artemisia vanished.