Firstlight Noya Guide — Stella Sora

Name: Alina
Birthday: June 21st
Affiliation: Night Watcher
Skills: Swordsmanship
Residence: Filanis
Experience: ██
Weapon: ██
Stipend: ██

Protect Filanis and earn the right to make a wish.

Night Watchers don't receive a stipend, so Alina picks up side jobs when she can.
She seems to be saving up for a carriage once this whole mess is over. Apparently, ==PLAYER_NAME=='s stories left an impression. She even plans to name the horse Loxy.

I know she is a knight of justice, but why is her cooking pure dark and evil?!
—Lulu

That is the warning Alina's little shadow gave us before we headed over for a victory feast. Alina took offense to that. She decided to prove us wrong by serving something less dark and more ... kaleidoscopic.
If ==PLAYER_NAME== had not stepped in to save dinner, I probably would have met the gods of magic a little earlier than planned.

Alina seems to have mistaken a twenty-sided die for a magic stone. She believes that as long as she keeps turning it over in her hand, once the count reaches 999,990,000, the God of Magic will grant any wish she desires - was she captivated by its exquisite craftsmanship, or is her obsession with having her wish granted simply too deep?

The citizens within Filanis have a terrible attitude toward Alina. Her arrival cut off their source of income: the original Night Watchers were drawn from the island's residents, and they not only put out fires, but also set fires at the shops of merchants who refused to pay fire-fighting fees.

Alina dismissed these people from the Night Watchers, leaving her as the only legitimate Night Watcher in the city.

The freed slaves outside the island respect the Night Watcher, but deep down they see Alina as one of the high-ranking elites, and do not dare truly get close to her.

In the end, Alina can only chew on this loneliness alone in the depths of night...

Filanis needs her, but she does not belong to Filanis.

When ==PLAYER_NAME== first woke up, ==SEX== called Alina "Noya," and later got her name wrong several more times. Perhaps it is precisely because Alina resembles that Noya so much that ==PLAYER_NAME== mistook her.

What is truly strange is this: Alina is not angry at all about being called the wrong name. She really dotes on ==PLAYER_NAME== too much.

To the dedicated Night Watcher, Filanis will not forget your sacrifice and contributions.
—Leita

Master Elis said that even non-nobles can write recommendation letters. Such a rare opportunity! Then I have to write lots and lots and lots of words to praise Captain Alina! She's the coolest, the most amazing, uh... I can't think of any other words...
—Lulu

Totally accurate.
Alina is the biggest fo... no no no, the most upright knight I have ever seen, and the one who most faithfully follows the way of the ancestors of the Nova nobles.

Although ==PLAYER_NAME== once led her astray, making her believe that she had already become a "fallen black knight," even then, she was still ten thousand times better than those sanctimonious nobles.
—Elis

==PLAYER_NAME== brought up a concept from ==SEX3== homeland for organizing personal files, calling it a "resume." The format ==SEX== mocked up is clean and intuitive. I'm actually thinking of making it the standard across Filanis.
Alina took an interest in the idea and filled out her own profile. That is where the data above came from, technically making it the first resume in Filanis history.
—Elis

The newborn baby cried with all her might, her voice loud, as if she were desperately trying to prove that she was still alive.
Very soon, her efforts paid off, an injured female gladiator tore open the relatively clean cloak on her back and wrapped the baby in it.
"Who is her mother?" A weary voice echoed through the underground chambers of the arena.
"She was dragged off to fight a monster right after giving birth, and now she's already... in that manticore's belly," an even wearier voice replied.
"Take it. It's the only thing we can give you." The old gladiator who had returned from above blinked his one eye and placed a bloodstained stone shard engraved with "18" on the newborn's swaddling clothes.
It was proof, proof of her status as a gladiator slave, but at the same time it was also a token that entitled her to continue living in the Grand Arena.
The nobles in purple robes would not spare the stone shard a second glance, but to the farm slaves struggling in the mire, this shard was more precious than gold.
The loud cries drew over the limping guard of the arena. The fierce man, who had taken an arrow to the knee and could no longer continue fighting on the battlefield, unexpectedly did not release his falcon, and only asked a question that many people wanted to ask -
"Why?"
"Why do you keep that eagle?"
'I need it to help me fight, and... it counts as my... pet?"
"Me too."
"But that isn't an eagle, that's a person."
'A person? Heh, you actually still treat us as people."
The female gladiator laughed soundlessly, and all the gladiators underground laughed along with her.
The baby seemed to be infected by this cheerful atmosphere and stopped crying. She blinked her newborn eyes, unable to see anything a little farther away, and tried hard to remember something.
However, because of the way she was positioned, the only thing she could see was the hilt at the female gladiator's waist.

Several years ago, before the old gladiator who had witnessed the birth of "No.18" was fortunate enough to die of old age, he left behind this prophecy...
"That child... is special. She will evade the Reaper's scythe countless times, obtain a true name, and live a legendary life. But only at the very end of her life will she obtain true happiness."
At first, no one cared about his mad ramblings, but when "No.18" truly began to display her talent for combat, people could not help but start regretting it, regretting why they had never gone to that old prophet to ask for a revelation.
"No.18" was a child of the arena. She was born suited for this place.
Even after going hungry for three days, she could still outrun the other children who had eaten their fill. Faced with a gladiator twice her height, she could still easily slip behind the opponent and knock them to the ground.
At the same time, she perhaps also understood a thing or two about human relations. Once she was able to stand on her own, she deliberately distanced herself from the female gladiator who had raised her.
It was not because she had forgotten the kindness of being raised by her, but because she had once seen the arena's audience deliberately scatter gold coins and demand that a pair of brothers who had just slain a monster draw their swords against each other.
That female gladiator was an extremely rare case, a gladiator slave who had successfully redeemed herself. Her luck in battle was very good, but where her luck was even better was this - that guard whose knee was in bad shape, yet who possessed the status of a "knight," was willing to help her.
The female gladiator's number plate was passed on to a timid newcomer, and 18 remembered that number, No. 103.
Very soon, fate made its arrangement: 18's next opponent was No. 103.
The battle, where by default only one person was meant to survive, began. Young No. 103 quickly realized that no matter how fierce an attack she launched, or what openings she exposed, her opponent had never once intended to kill her.
From beginning to end, No.18's blade was aimed only at places that were not fatal but bled heavily, even though her opponent would not do the same.
No. 103 did not know why No.18 was doing this. She only knew that there was no way she could defeat No.18.
She watched that old sword pierce into her flesh, avoiding her vital organs, and burst out from another part of her body together with a spray of red blood.
Thunderous applause erupted from the stands, and she knew that she had survived.
Before she collapsed, the only thing she wanted to remember was this: when she woke up, she had to properly thank her.

Some girls stood outside a rundown forge...
"Hmm... Not this one... Ugh, too heavy..."
"Yara, what are you doing?"
"Oh, Morgan. Isn't it obvious? I'm weapon shopping."
"You use a shield. Why are you looking at longswords... Wait, don't tell me."
"Yep. It's not for me. It's for her."
"No.18... Why do you still talk to her? She's a total battle maniac."
"And that battle maniac kept us alive more than once, didn't she?"
"I guess... I did heal up fast thanks to her. Even scored two weeks of downtime."
"Ugh, fine. I'll help you look. But let's ditch this junk first. It's all dead gladiators' leftovers. You won't find a good sword inside the Arena."
"Then where am I supposed to look?"
"... Heh, I have an idea. Yara, feel like taking a walk outside?"

Six girls huddled outside the guardhouse...

"Buying an hour of free time? Is this actually going to work?"
"Trust me, I've seen people do it. We'll have to wear magic collars, though. Step out of bounds and you die."
"We can't get a decent sword in here. We need a real weapon shop on the outside."
"But how much is an hour going to cost? Plus, this sounds dangerous..."
"Relax. You aren't the only one who owes her a favor."
"We pool our coin, bribe the head guard, and use whatever's left for the gift."
"Alright, I'll trust you... I wonder if No. 18 will like it."

Blood flowed across the stone-paved road...

"Damn it...! Damn it...! Why won't it stop bleeding...!"
"Sorry, Yara... I miscalculated. Never thought that those bastards could burn right through my spear..."
"Stop talking! I'm getting you back to the Arena!"
"Heh, we've... caused you trouble...Forget that... Where's the gift?"
"I kept it safe. Their magic didn't burn it. This is my fault...! I blew our cover!"
"Couldn't be helped. Who knew we'd run into the night patrol..."
"Yara... listen to me. Don't tell her we snuck out for this."
"She can be so stubborn. We don't want her thinking about us every time she swings that thing..."
"I know... Your body is losing so much blood. Please, stop talking!"
"What are you saying, I still have to go into the arena..."
"Take a good look at those puppets, and take a good look at the way that guy swings his sword..."
The young gladiator girl fainted in her companion's arms. Blood pooled across the ground into a thin puddle, reflecting the vast starry sky that no one was there to admire.