Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

—

TWO WEEKS FOLLOWING THE EVENTS IN THE PLEIADIS WATCHTOWER…

—

As always, Subaru was enjoying his time in the Roswaal Estate (2.0) with his camp—his friends. After the dramatic—and painfully scarring—betrayal of Aldebaran, he had planned to return home to rest, recover, and steady himself before setting out again. He still meant to uncover the burden Al carried… and to force Gluttony to spit out every name it had stolen.

He had hidden Al’s seal somewhere no one would ever find it, buying himself time to breathe before the long road ahead.
For now, though, he was polishing a vase beside the newest member of the Camp: Sylphy Elmart. She had joined them hoping to follow the example of the woman who rescued her from the Archbishop of Greed—hoping, for the first time, to believe that despair wasn’t the only path left to her.

Sylphy: “Subaru-sama, you really don’t need to explain every tiny part of every chore. I’ve been doing chores for that madman for years. I think I can handle a vase.”

Subaru: “Nonsense! This is all about reclaiming the learning experience! Don’t you think it’ll be more fun to learn how to work without all the trauma baked in?”

Sylphy: “…I think you just want to hang out, Subaru-sama.”

Subaru: “Ouch! KO’d in one hit!”

He clutched his chest dramatically, making her snort.
Subaru: “Okay, okay, yes — obviously I want to spend time with our newest member. But what I said is true, too.”

He wasn’t lying. He knew all too well how something as simple as cleaning could be tainted by fear and panic — Arc 2 had taught him that much. Helping Sylphy untangle that was something he genuinely wanted… but she clearly wasn’t buying his pitch.

Subaru: “Alright, alright. How about this? We keep working together, but I stop hovering like a mother hen. Training wheels off. Deal?”

She laughed again, unable to hide her amusement that the Hero of Pristella was this much of a goofball.

Subaru: “Hey!? What was that laugh for? I was being sincere!”

Surprised by his mock injury, she scrambled to apologize.

Sylphy: “Ah! S-sorry Subaru-sama, I didn’t mean—”

Subaru: “Hey hey, it’s fine! Wow, we definitely need to work on your sarcasm. I was just teasing.”

He lifted the vase with a grin.

Subaru: “So? What’d’ya say?”

Sylphy: “Alright. I think Rem and Ram could use us in the kitchen. It’s almost lunchtime. And, um… didn’t you say you wanted to go on a… pik-nik? Pic-nik? Ah—picnic. That’s the word, right?”

Subaru: “Yes to both! And oh crap, we need to move before Nee-sama actually cuts my head off! Trust me, getting your head cut off never feels good!”
Ignoring the latest Subarism™ with practiced ease, Sylphy led the way as the two of them headed toward the kitchen.

—

Ram: “Good, it seems our resident Barusu has gotten up from his lazy behind to bring us a useful pair of hands for once.”

Rem: “Indeed sister, it seems it's a good day today.”

Subaru: “Wow, insulting me right off the bat, you guys have no mercy.”

Both maids ignored him in favour of peeling Patatos (Fuck you tatos!)
After Sylphy mediated, and an hour of work (yeesh, no modern tools and 17 mouths to feed) what could only be called an over fancy spread was ready for the picnic.

After setting everything outside, the mansion residents started to join. Those included Subaru, Beatrice, Emilia, Sylphy, Rem, Ram, Otto, Garfiel, Ferderica, Meili, Petra, Clind, Annarose, Roswaal, Ryuzu, and even Patrasche and Frufoo.

Garfiel: “Hey boss! Come check this out! My amazing self is lovin’ these little cakes!”

Subaru: “Coming right over man!”

Just as Subaru plopped down on the set out blanket and took his first bite of the — admittedly — delicious cake, the world paused.
In just a moment, it had seemed like the witch had paid him a little visit. Yet before he could question and condemn the world for his unfair fate, the world kept on moving. When he looked around in rightful anxiety, he saw he was not the only one. They were all questioning the barely noticeable yet impossible to ignore event.

Emilia: “W-what just happened?! I couldn’t move, I think? Subaru?! Are you ok?”

Subaru: “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Did you all feel that?”

Subaru: “Shit!” He thought.

Garfiel: “Y-yeah, o’course’ my amazing self noticed!”

Otto: “What in the Od was that!?”

Rooswal: “Subaruuu~Kuuun, do yooou know what that was~? hmm?”

Subaru: “I’m not so sure, but I might…”

Subaru was quickly cut off by a sound from above, the sound of his own voice.

—

[…it there … I'm going …to..]

—

It was a voice he recognised, one in pain, filled with desperation and delusion.

—

[A convenience store, featuring a young man framed perfectly at the center.]

—

Otto: “Hey! Natsuki-san! Isn’t that you up there?”

Otto was right, it was him. The him from over a year ago, the him that died.

Annerose: “Hmph, why are we being shown onii-san? I would much rather watch Emily-chan, she’s much cooler.”

Although Subaru wanted to make a comment on how he was cool, he could not look away as he realized the implications this screen put forth.

Ryuzu: “Subaru-sama, is something the matter, you look quite drained?”

Subaru: “Hah? Oh, yeah, haha, I think I’m just shocked. The last thing I thought I’d see today is my face in the sky.”

—

[Subaru: Ah, I see. This is where they suck you in,
the boy on screen commented while looking at a graphic novel unlike anything anyone in this world had seen before.]

—

Garfiel: “Boss! Boss! What’s that you're reading there?”

Roswaal: “Indeed~ what could it be~”

Ram: “Master Roswaal, I would recommend refraining from mocking Barusu, I am afraid he might faint.”

True to her kind\mean words, Subaru felt like fainting, how could he not when the whole world (for all he knew) could see the worst (one of) and best (one of) moments of his life.

Motivated by Ram’s words of (encouragement?) he slapped his cheeks to regain his composure, and abruptly stood up to address his Camp members.

Subaru: “Look everyone, I know this is weird for you, it's weird for me too. But we can’t let this shake us, I need you all to calm down.

Looking at everyone’s now calm appearance, and Petra’s admiring gaze, he kept speaking.

Subaru: ”I need to know, did all of you feel that pause before this screen appeared in the sky?”

A collective “Ohh, it's called a screen” moved through the area as everyone answered in the affirmative.
Clind: “Affirmative”

Everyone: “Yeah” “Yes” and a “yup~” from Meili.

Subaru: “Alright, then I think we should send Ryuzu to the village to confirm they are ok and sit tight until something happens. If I’m right about this, then there is no way to stop what’s about to happen…no matter how much I definitely want to.”

He muttered that last part, but everyone heard it.

—

[He contemplates a young couple outside, before moving on to the rest of his shopping.
Subaru: Nah, not natto.

Clerk: That’ll be 363 yen.

Subaru: Oh, a grooved-edge ten.

The young man leaves the store, a tired and uncaring demeanor shaping his movements.

Reality contorts around him for a second, a low and dissonant sound accompanying the distortion, though both go unnoticed.
Subaru: I guess anyone’s eyes would be tired after holin’ up in their room gaming all day.

The boy closes his eyes off to the world, rubbing them in an attempt to push off the sleepiness– only, when he opens them again– a daytime plaza filled with clatter and activity.

Subaru: …

Subaru: What's going on?

Subaru: …

Subaru: …

Subaru: This stuff obviously isn’t fake. Which means…

Subaru: …

Subaru: …

Subaru: So does this mean..I’ve been summoned into a parallel world?!]

—

Emilia: “W-wh-what?! Subaru, is this true?”

Standing up, and moving towards her knight, Emilia held his sleeve and asked with all the genuine worry in the world.

Subaru: “Y-yeah E-Emilia-tan, it's true. Don’t worry though! It’s all in the past, nothing you need to worry about!”

Emilia: “Dummy, I was only asking because your face did this panicky thingy, and I was worried.”

Garfiel: “Yeah boss! You look’ like ya were abou’ to faint.”

Otto: “Are you ok Natsuki-san? It’s already crazy that you’re apparently from beyond the great waterfall, but you don’t need to look so concerned.”

Subaru: “Y-yeah, well, I thought you guys might be mad. I never mentioned this little fan-fact about myself before.”

He was not, in fact, worried about that, he knew they would forgive him, as claiming your origin is from beyond the great waterfall is not something people believed, even when those people are your friends. He was more shocked to see this moment again, the moment it all changed for the (worst?) (better?). Regardless, he would not change a thing. Still, this did not take away all the pain this reminder brought.

Beatrice: “Hmph, it does not matter, I suppose. Since Subaru told betty already.”

Everyone: “What?!”

Garfiel: “Why’d you tell the sprite and not’us boss?!”

Otto: “Yeah! If you knew we would believe you, why didn’t you tell us?!”

Meili: “So mean onii-san~.”

Emilia: “Not right now everyone, we need to do what Subaru said. Ryuzu, could you please head over to the village to check on them?”
Subaru: “Haa~ Emilia-tan is so cute when giving out orders.”

Emilia blushed and gave a decisive “hmph”, turning away and taking a seat next to Annerose.

As Ryuzu left, they all took their seats on the large picnic blanket, watching the scene unfold. Unaware of what was about to be revealed, not only to them, but to the entire world.

—

Across the world, in a nation quite unlike this one, an emperor sat with his aides. Vincent Vollachia — Able, was sitting on a balcony in the most lavish building the fortified city of Garkla had to offer (which was not very lavish). After the end of the great disaster, the capital city of Lupagna was raised to the ground. Since it would take years for the city to regain its former glory, the emperor and his staff had no choice but to set up their headquarters in Garkla. Able was doing paper work while being guarded by Jamal Aurélie and hounded by his fiance Medium O’Connell when time stopped.

Able: “I must stay calm, I can infer this is an attack, and assuming it is affecting my staff, I may not survive…”

But before the pessimistic emperor could give into fate once more, time moved.

Able: “Agh!”

Jamal: “What the fuck!”

Medium: “Ahh!!! What just happened!? It was so scary! Able?! Are you ok?! Do I need to beat someone up for you?!”

In true loyal Medium fashion, she immediately went for her sword and looked around in a theatrical but controlled panic.

When she found no one, she once again looked toward Able, who after confirming everyone’s safety, looked to the unusual shape in the sky.
He then addressed the two with him
Able: “it seems we have not been maliciously targeted as I had feared. Instead, there is now an unknown force that affected every citizen of this city.”

Able: “Calm yourselves Medium O’Connell and Jamal Aurélie, there is no point in remaining shaken.”

Jamal: “Y-yes sire, what shall we do?”

Medium: “Yup! You don’t need to worry about me! Your Medium is ready for action!”

Confirming their stable condition, Able commanded Jamal to call for the Divine Generals, including: Cecilus Segmunt, who was currently traveling with Spica — the former archbishop — and the divine general Arakiya. Those he called included Olbart Dunkelkenn, Goz Ralfon, Groovy Gumlet, Yorna Mishigure, Moguro Hagane, Madelyn Eschart, Kafma Irulux, and even Zikr Osman.

Able knew that while some would come quickly and obediently, like Kafma Irulux, Zikr Osman, Goz Ralfon, Olbart Dunkelkenn, Moguro Hagane, Groovy Gumlet, and Madelyn Eschart. There would be those that either refuse, like Yorna Mishigure, or there would be those that come from afar like Cecilus Segmunt, and Arakiya.

Regardless, he needed them all here, after all, the person that just showed up on this magical device that can only be called a metia, just so happened to be the one he found most annoying, and his bringer of disaster and victory all at the same time.

As he watched the boy leave the unusual (store?), he could not help the shock that spread across his very Od when he realized the boy he had used, trusted, and kind of befriended, just so happens to be from beyond the great waterfall.

Able: “So this is your origin. I must say, I am surprised.”

Able: “*Sigh*… Just what have you done now, Subaru Natsuki?”

—
Medium: “Brother! Brother! Brother! Did you see that!?”

Since it was Jamal who was given the assignment to call the Divine Generals back to the fortified city, Medium was free to cause havoc elsewhere. In other words, she was free to call on her brother — Flop O’Connell — and his wife — Taritta Shudrak.

Both of them were in a panic after the time stop event, and were trying to calm the other people in the city. The Shudrak — including Holly, Kuna, Utakata, and Mizelda — were already in the city, helping the people of Vollachia rebuild. For this reason, they all quickly joined Flop’s attempts to calm the populace.

Flop: “Everyone calm down! There is no danger! Although we don’t know the origin of this unusual display, nor what preceded it, we know it is not malicious! After all, it’s displaying a friend of the empire!”

As people got over the initial shock, Flop and Taritta turned to each other in mutual confusion.

Flop: “Taritta, do you have any clue as to why Husband-kun is being displayed in the sky?”

Taritta: “I don’t know why you would think I know, I’m just as confused as you. I don’t really know anything about magic, so this is a total mystery to me and the rest of my people.”

The Shudrak who were around all nodded in agreement. One — probably Mizelda — even shouted that brute force was the way to go, so why should they care about some stupid magic spell.

Mizelda: “Whatever it is, I don’t really care, considering we get to see our friend once more!”

Holly & Kuna & Utakata: “Yeah!!!”

It was then that the ever eager sister joined the fray.

Medium: “Brother! Brother! Brother! Did you see this!?”

Medium shouted while shaking her poor brother and pointing at the sky.

Medium: “Look! Husband-kun is from beyond the great waterfall! Isn’t that amazing!?”

Flop: “Usually I would tell you to calm down dear sister, but in truth it is an incredible discovery. To think husband-kun has such riveting origins. If only he was still here, I would ask him all about it.”

A wave of agreement swept through the town square where they were all at.

Flop: “Although, I do wonder why we are being shown this now? Why world? What else must you condemn us too?”

—

Looking at our other friends in the empire, we zoom in on the Pleiades battalion, where Hiain Yatz, the lizard man, Weitz Rogen, the tattooed man, Idra Missanga, the red haired man, and their general, Gustav Morello, the blue bodied, multi armed giant, were sitting around in the ruined capital city of Lupagna, accompanied by the rest of the battalion. The battalion numbered several thousand, and included Subaru’s allied force of mixed races and backgrounds.

Although Subaru was no longer there to lead them, after returning to Lugunica, they were still a strong unified force. Filled with people who cherished each other and showed mercy to their enemies as their commander taught them.

That was why this revelation, that their founder was from beyond the great waterfall, was such an absurd shock.

Idra: “N-no w-way…! Is Schwartz really from beyond the great waterfall?!”

Hiain: “I-it seems so! I want to say I don’t believe it, but if anyone would have such an amazing backstory it would be bro!”

Weitz: “Y-yeah! You're right! If anyone, it would be Schwartz!”

Many “ohh”s and “Ahh”s spread through the battalion sent to help rebuild the capital.

It was Gustav, ever the diligent subject, that reminded them why they were there.

Gustav: “Although I, in my capacity, am sure you are all surprised!”

He shouted with a booming voice, gaining everyone’s attention.

Gustav: “It is still our duty to his majesty and the empire to rebuild this nation to its former glory! I, in my capacity, will not allow us to rest anymore due to a reason as insignificant as an image in the sky! Get up! Or are you telling me that the battalion that that boy in the sky created is too weak to get work done!”

Battalion: “NOOO!!!”

Ever the diligent hive mind, they got up, and got back to work.

(Subaru, what have you created…)

—

[Baffled, the young man shouted with all his might as the screen zooms out, showing the entirety of Lugunica’s signature royal capital.

The screen, lingering on the zoomed out capital, suddenly began displaying another angle of the city, then switched to the Vollachian provisional capital of Garkla, Flanders, Glacia followed by other cities in Gusteko and Kararagi.]

All of them seemed to have one aspect in common, the people were on the streets, looking up at the sky.

[“The great majority of those across the Four Nations, who have the capacity for thought and reason, are witnessing this tale. The trials of the Strongest Existence–they will display the truth, and nothing but the truth, of this world.”

So announced a simple white text covering the now black screen after a booming single drum sound was made from the screens themselves.]

—

Felt: “The strongest existence, huh?! Look, I love big bro as much as anyone with a brain, but he is not the strongest in any capacity.”

So announced Felt, who was currently residing in the Astrea manor with her Camp members, which included the sword Saint, Reinhard van Astria, Ezzo Cadner the mage, the twins Grassis and Flam Remedis, the Three Musketeers, Goston, Rachins Hoffman, and Camberly, the servants Carol and her husband Grimm, and old man Rom himself.”

Rom: “Can’t blam ya there kid, last thing I heard, the boy had his leg ripped off in Pristella.”

Ezzo: “Yeah, but I don’t think we should worry about that right now. Whatever this magic is, I’ve never seen it before, nor have I heard of it. I don’t think it’s dangerous, but that moment of paused time could be an indication of yin magic — powerful yin magic. If that’s the case, there is a powerful mage involved.”

TonChinKan trio: “So we're not in danger!?”

Felt: “Agh! You guys are such cowards! There’s nothing to worry about, Rein would take care of it if that was the case. Actually, that reminds me, Rein! Could you try and slash that thing down? I don’t like that it’s breaching Bro’s privacy like that.”

Reinhard: “Of course my lady, it would be a pleasure.”

In an instant, the knight had jumped into the sky attempting to slash the phenomenon with his hand. The Sword Saint required no weapon against such an insignificant possible enemy. And yet, his attack went right through. It seemed like brute strength would not solve this issue, yet none of his divine protections seemed to work either. This did not bode danger, but confusion. As the Sword Saint realised he could not get rid of the phenomenon showing his friends face and origins.

Reinhard: “I hope you're doing all right, my friend.”

—

Felix: “Miss Crusch! Are you alright!”

Felix, also known as the kingdom’s blue, was outside in the garden of the Karsten estate when time paused. Although it was shocking and scary to be unable to move nor check on his master, he quickly got free to do just that.

Crusch: “Yes… Haa… Although I was a little shaken up, I don’t believe we are in danger. Wilhelm-san, did you sense that as well?”

Wilhelm van Astrea, who was in the vicinity, guarding his still injured lady, quickly regained his composure. After confirming everything was alright, the screen proceeded to reveal an interesting fun fact about their friend and respected ally.

Felix: “N-no way~ is Subaru-kyun really from beyond the great waterfall~?!”

Crusch: “I-it seems so! That’s quite surprising. … Did he ever mention this to any of you? Wilhelm-san, you are the closest any of us are to the young man, did he ever deem to mention this significant fact?”

Wilhelm: “No, Subaru-dono never explained his origins, though I’m not surprised. No respectable individual would believe such a story, even when told by such a virtuous man.”

Felix: “Yeah~ anyway…isn’t he pretty funny, going into the women’s bathroom and falling in the canal~ I would expect nothing less from Subaru-kyun.”

Crusch: “haha..Agh!…”

Felix: “Crusch-sama!? Don’t strain your injuries! Or else Ferris-chan won't be able to heal you!”

The royal candidate was still injured after the attack on Pristella. Unable to stand or barely move, she sat on a chair in the garden, blanket draped over her lap, having some tea with her closest subordinates — no, closest friends, and getting as comfortable as they could considering the circumstances.
Crusch: “M-maybe w-we can learn something from this viewing of sorts… I just hope Subaru-sama is alright.”

—

Across the world, in a nation called Kararagi, we spot the remaining royal candidate, Anastasia Hoshin. She was sitting with her knight, Julius Juukulius, her unofficial contracted spirit Eridna, and her mercenary team, consisting of the Pearlbaton triplets and their father figure and warrior Ricardo Welkin.

Anastasia: “So, what do’ya make of this little titbit Julius? Hmm~?”

to think the boy she both respected and found suspicious was from beyond the great waterfall. She considered how she could never find any information about the mystery known as Natsuki Subaru, passed — of course — his non-savoury appearance in the capital, where he made a fool of himself, only to end up accomplishing an unthinkable feat.

Julius: “…”

Anastasia: “Hmm~ Julius? Are ya alright?”

Julius: “Ah!? Oh, my apologies my lady. I was simply shocked by the revelation that Natsuki Subaru is from beyond the great waterfall. Not to mention this ridiculous beginning. I find it hard to believe that he had such a rough start yet ended up as our nation's greatest hero.”
Anastasia: “Ohh~ is my knight jealous? It’s not a pretty colour on you Julius~”

Julius: “W-what no! I was simply stating my confusion! After all, how did he go from an illiterate fool into the man I call my friend today? Not that I blame him for his rough start. It’s just…”

Anastasia: “what is’t”

Julius: “If he was brought to our world so suddenly, then does that mean that he acted out due to ignorance and not foolishness…? If that is the case then… I committed a truly abhorrent act against a friend…”

Anastasia: “Well, as you know I don’t remember what it is ya supposedly did. Although, I can assure you that I trust you.”

Julius: “Thank you, my lady.”

Ricardo: “Whatever it is you did, or the kid did, I’m sure it’s all good. You two are too good together to be sulking about your rough start now.”

Mimi: “Yeah! You don’t need to worry, if he is mad about what ya did, mimi will beat him up for you! But not Garf, he is too cool!”

Tivey: “Sister, please don’t speak so casually about injuring our world’s hero.”

Mimi: “Haha.”

Eridna: “Ana, I think it would be wise to call on the shinobi. If things get precarious, we will need him.”

Anastasia: "Alright alright, Juli, call the fur-ball over. We should watch this viewing together. Who knows what we might learn.”

Julius: “Right away, my lady.”

—

[Wandering about, the young man proceeds to try to save a child by screaming at the top of his lungs…it’s not very effective.
Soon after, he comes across a fruit and vegetable stand.

Subaru: I can’t read this.

Kadomon: Hey, boy. Those are some weird clothes. Are you travelling?

Subaru: What are these?

Kadomon: Those are apples. (Fuck you appas!)

Subaru: They understand me. Though, the question is…

Kadomon: Huh? What kind of money is that? You can’t use that stuff in Lugunica. That means you’re flat broke, huh? Get outta here, don’t interfere with my business!

Getting into various other predicaments, the boy is soon left sitting in an alleyway while waiting for his clothes to dry out.]

—

Back in the very capital the viewing was showing, the very same Apple (Damn you Appas!!!) salesman was watching with shock and interest.
Kadomon: “Ahh, so the kid was from beyond the great waterfall. if I’d known I would've accepted those coins. Such a rare item passed up because of my own ignorance! Damn it!”

Raksha: “Don’t worry honey, it's not that bad, I’m more worried that the young man is having such a hard time navigating our city. If I’d known, I would have done my best to help him. No child should be ripped from their home so suddenly like that.”

Kadomon: “Y-yeah, I guess you're right. It’s just that I know he ends up fine…”

Plum: “Yeah! He’s fine! He becomes a hero, right?!”

Kadomon: “Whoa whoa there little lady, you're gonna take this old man’s ears off!”

Plum: “Haha, sorry daddy. It’s just so exciting to see how it all started.”

Kadomon: “You're sounding a little too grown up there…whaa! My daughter is growing up so fast!!!”

Raksha: “I thought you just said to lower our voices!? Haa… what am I to do with you?”

with a fondness reserved only for her husband and daughter, Raksha set up their apple (fuck you appas!) stand in a way that would allow them to sit in comfort as they watched the story of their nation's hero unfold. And if they were hoping that business might just boom after this little viewing, no one had to know.

—

[After a bit of complaining, a cell phone was pulled out.

This too seems ineffective, but any thoughts about it or about being summoned by a cute girl are soon stopped when others enter the featured alley.
Camberley: What are you talking about?

Rachins: If you don’t wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got!]

—

Since he was already close by, it took only a couple of minutes for Halibel, the wolf-man and shinobi, to grace the Anastasia Camp with his loud presence.

Halibel: “Hey there! So ya’ called me Anabo? I suppos’ this viewing of Su-san is pretty crazy hah?”

Anastasia: “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that…Haa…no matter, I wanted to suggest we watch this together since we never know what might happen.”

Halibel: “Sure sure, I'll watch it with ya’ Anabo, seems fun, I already learned somethin’ cool from it anyway. To think Su-san was from beyond the great waterfall all along. No wonder he’s such a wonder!”

Ricardo: “Yup, seems the Mini-Boss really is special!”

After a bit more small talk, the entirety of the Anastasia Camp set up in a room with a balcony on ground level to watch the story of a lifetime.

—

besides the Camps we know well, there were others of status watching this story unfold, such as the council of Wiseman, which included the wise and patient Miklotov McMahon, a bearded and white haired man with dark kind eyes, the serious, (and in my opinion, rude) Bordeaux Zergev, with his big dark blue bushy eyebrows, accompanied by the head of the Royal guard Marcos Gildark, with a square shaped head and green hair and short beard.
They were within the council chambers, talking over the recent events in Vollachia, when time stopped, kept moving, and a magical phenomenon, known to us as a screen, appeared within the council chambers. It was double sided and showed the same imagery on both ends. One end pointing towards the wisemen, and the other towards the exit door leading to the hall.

Miklotov: “Everyone! You must calm down!”

The wisemen shouted to the audience chamber filled with nobility. That nobility included the merchant Russell Fellow, who stepped towards the council.

Russell: “I agree, panic will do us no good. Wisemen, could I request permission to investigate this magical phenomenon? I believe this is an apt opportunity, as our outside sources tell us all other parallel phenomena are much too high for us to reach. This might be our only opportunity to investigate the source of this magical phenomena.”

As the well connected merchant he was, Russell was already aware of the situation currently overtaking the four nations.

Bordeaux: “*cough* *cough* Indeed, assemble a team in collaboration with sir Gildark. We cannot afford to waste time. Sir Gildark! Send one of your men to fetch the Sword Saint, and go work with Russell Fellow to find the source of this attack!”

Marcos: “Yes, highness.”

The nobility quickly dispersed, leaving only the knights of the capital. Those knights were tasked with protecting the Wiseman, and investigating with Russell.
On the side, two Wiseman had a conversation.

Bordeaux: “Miklotov, did you know of the boy’s origin?”

Miklotov: “Not at all, though I hope this revelation does not ruin the young man's reputation. As you know, his status as a hero is — in part — the reason for the people's support in the current ruling system. We cannot afford for anything untoward to destabilise our people's view of their hero.”

Bordeaux: “Ha! In that case it's too late, the fool is already making a fool of himself. Does he have no common sense?”

Miklotov: “Be patient my friend, the boy is in an unfamiliar land in a foreign world, it is only natural he would be unable to navigate our capital.”

After a little back-and-forth between our hero’s supporter and his biggest hater, the two agreed to watch with stoic faces in hopes of inspiring calm within their ranks.

—

Back in Vollachia, in an unnamed village, a young couple were sitting on a bench outside their cabin together as they watched the revelation that the man they both met in dramatic passing was in fact an other-worlder.

Todd: “So that guy really was weird, no wonder I found him so unsettling.”

Todd had met Subaru while the young hero was in Vollachia, and although at first the shinobi turned soldier felt a basic need to rid himself of a threat, he later learned that he truly disliked this black haired child that knew nothing about the truths of the world and trusted others too easily.

Katya: “I-I c-can’t believe that boy had such u-unusual origins, but I suppose it explains his unusual behaviour, culture shock and all. A-Although, I do wonder if Rem-san knew about this. She seemed to find him just a-as confusing as I did, maybe knowing this w-will put her mind a-at e-ease.”

Todd: “I don’t know about that, but as long as I don’t have to bother myself with him ever again.”

Katya: “W-Wow, you really don’t like h-him, d-do you!?”

Todd: “…It’s nothing so dramatic, I simply don’t like how trusting the idiot is. Look, he clearly expects to be handed some sort of reward. He was always so trusting, it bothered me.”

Although Todd Fang would never admit, someone, especially someone so weak, was able to get under his skin, there was one person he trusted enough to share his concerns with. That person was his wife Katya. The only person Todd was able to love was the woman who could not walk, and would therefore never hurt him. It was this twisted relationship that bore their mutual love and trust in each other.

Todd: “How that trusting child ever survived is beyond me.”

A little calmer, Katya replied.

Katya: “Agreed, he seems to be completely clueless about everything, while having no brute force to compensate for his lacking skills.”

Todd: “I don’t care, as long as we are left out of it. Let’s head back inside Katya, there is no reason to bother ourselves with other people’s lives and past.”

Katya: “You go ahead, I think I’ll stay and watch, it's not like we had anything to do today.”

Todd felt nothing but apathy at this suggestion, deciding to sit by his love without letting that scary brat ruin his day.

Todd: “Well, not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

—

Back in Lugunica, at an unspecified location within Flanders, three influential individuals were meeting with each other to discuss the new alliances between the dragon kingdom of Lugunica, and the Sword Wolf Empire of Vollachia. Those individuals included the pig demihuman Doltero Amule, who was responsible for most of the underground governing of the earth dragon capital, Toto, who was responsible for the red light district, and Manfred, who was in charge of the gambling districts, and was an avid worshiper of the witch of pride Typhon.

After the initial shock of the revelation everyone in the four kingdoms was going through, one thing was for sure, the three leaders of Flanders wanted to meet this mystery known as Natsuki Subaru.

Doltero: “Hmm… I’m sure you have all heard about this boy before, have you not?”

Manfred: “Indeed, what an interesting individual, it's one thing for there to be an individual from beyond the great waterfall, but for that person to be the hero of our world, truly mysterious. Do you think he was sent here to become a hero? He sure seems to think so.”

Toto: “I think we should meet him and ask, Doltero, could you contact the Felt Camp and ask for a meeting?”

Doltero: “Stop acting like greedy pigs, we don’t know why this is happening, nor what it means. Regardless, we will not be the only people hoping for a meeting with the boy after this. It would be a difficult thing to set up, especially for the meaningless purpose of satiating our greedy curiosity.”

Toto: “Yeah yeah, true, lets watch then, might as well, right?”

After confirming their three-way agreement, the three sent for a seating arrangement to be made on the brothel house balcony.
Toto: “No place like a brothel to get comfortable.”

—

At the same time, across the world in the only remaining direction, we see the kingdom of Gusteko. In the church of Od Laguna, there is an archbishop, unlike that of the witch’s cult, She is a kind, if not eccentric old woman, large and jovial, with pale-almost white-skin.
Tiriena was the current archbishop of the Gusteken Church — after her father — that worshiped Od Laguna and all spirits. And just like the rest of the world, she was quite shocked to see the young man on screen. Although she had heard about the young hero of Lugunica, the boy on screen had not yet announced his name, as such, she had not yet made the connection.

Tiriena: “And what in Od is this?! I must speak to his holiness at once!”

Attendent: “Then you must send a letter requesting audience, my lady.”

Tiriena: “Yes, agh, so many steps…”

At her extra eccentricity, the attendant sweat dropped, both from the stress caused by the lady she serves, and the unusual screen displayed out of the window behind her lady’s desk.

After turning both the Archbishop’s and attendant’s tables around to watch the show, they both got to work.

—

In the same nation, a prince was confined in a tower as the traitor of the nation, the one who murdered his own siblings out of a mad craze, the mad prince, Vague Adgard.

Vague: “What’s all this noise? Heh? A denizen from beyond the great waterfall. Maybe things will be interesting for once in this bleak world.”

So said the mad prince, who had no idea the person he was about to watch was about to break and make his view of the world, including that of spirits.

—

looking over at Kararagi once more, a spirit of wind was contemplating the person on screen.
Zarestia: “That boy seems quite clueless, no matter, he will probably die soon. Right now I need to focus on finding my orb.”

—

Back at the city of Pristella, where the people knew the boy one screen quite well, Kiritaka Muse and Liliana Masquerade were broadcasting on the city wide metia.

Kiritaka: “Do not panic, everyone, we are not being attacked!”

Liliana: “Yeah!”

Kiritaka: “we must remain calm about this revelation about our city’s hero, as long as we do that, all will be fine!”

Liliana: “Yeah!”

Liliana: “I would recommend watching from a safe distance as we discern the phenomena’s origins!”

Liliana: “Yeah!”

After a bit more calming words, and funny interruptions, the people of Pristella were calm enough to take seats in their homes and in their public spaces to watch the story of their hero unfold.

It was especially the children, like Garfiel’s half siblings, that were particularly enjoying the comedic aspects of the film.
Fred: “Haha! Look mom! He’s so funny!”

Rafiel: “I kinda feel bad for him.”

Reala: “I’m glad you’re having fun, but don’t worry about him Rafiel, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.”

—

[???: Move it, move it!

A small, if agile, girl appears on the scene, promptly wishing luck to the poor soul before departing.

Seeing no other solution than to fight, Natsuki Subaru-–as he had just announced his name to himself-–skillfully downed two of the three muggers in less than a few seconds, while apparently having no previous fighting experience.]

—

Tiriena: “Ohh! Is this the same hero I've been hearing about?”

Attendant: “It seems so you’re Excellency.”

Tiriena: “Now I really want to speak with His Holiness. Better start that letter… where is my quill…”

—

[All is looking up…until the third thief pulls out two blades. Quickly prostrating himself and apologizing, Subaru is nonetheless kicked and soon the trio is on top of him, bashing and humiliating the man.]

—

Felt: “I-I don’t remember this! I wouldn’t just leave Big Bro like that alone!”

Carol: “Are you sure, my lady? you can be quite brash.”

flabbergasted and insulted, Felt decided to sit in mock silence. But she was no idiot, and she knew that she would not have forgotten such an event had it happened. And yet, the abandonment of her brother in everything but blood was somehow forgotten.

Ezzo: “No!!! What will people think?! Dammit!!!”

—

Flop: “Hey! Don’t hurt Husband-kun!”

Medium: “Yeah!”

—

Able: “*Sigh*… this fool never ceases to amaze me.”

—

[???: That’s enough!

Rachins: Who the hell are you?!

Donning white and purple– Silver hair, elf ears, purple eyes, pristine white skin.
To the great majority of those outside of Lugunica, it was unquestionable– The Witch had appeared at that very moment.

???: Stop now and I’ll let this slide. So just graciously give back what you stole.

Confused, the trio pointed to the direction of the runaway girl and the new arrival soon gave chase.
However, perhaps pitying the boy, magic was conjugated and fired at the three thieves. With one of them knocked out, Rachins merely had an advantage of two against one.

???: You’re right. Two against one may be unfair.

???: Two against two should make it fair, then.

A spirit came forth on the order of the “witch”, and with the prospect of facing a spiritual arts user looming, the delinquents made a swift exit.
Subaru: You saved me. Thanks.

Unaware of the local prejudices, the boy from beyond this world could only admire his saviour, even as he was interrogated for theft and began losing consciousness after attempting to stand up.

Even as the beautiful girl was asserting that she would not be helping him, much to the disbelieving amusement of her spirit, Subaru, quickly falling into a slumber, only had one thought–

Subaru: She’s even super cute when she’s mad…That’s a parallel world fantasy for you.]

—

Emilia: “W-what? What??! Subaru, what is this? I don’t remember this!”

Subaru: “…”

Although there was quite the confusion—an angry Garfiel, a furious Beatrice, an annoyed Ram, a concerned Petra, an amused Meili, and a worried Camp—Subaru couldn’t answer Emilia’s question.

For a moment, Emilia only stared at the image, heart hammering. “Is this… what he meant? When he said I saved him?” She’d heard those words from him so many times, but she’d never understood. She had no memory of it.

Subaru’s stomach sank. As the scene continued, it hit him all at once—this wasn’t a vision or illusion. They were seeing a timeline he’d erased.

Otto: “Hey, Natsuki-san, are you alright? You don’t look too good… don’t worry too much about what’s being shown, no one really cares.”
Subaru: “…”

He realized what that meant. If they were seeing the erased past, then every rule—the silence, the punishment—could trigger here too. And if that happened, everyone was already dead.

Subaru: “I think I’m doomed.”

Beatrice: “W-wh-what do you mean, I suppose?!”

A tear slid down his cheek before he could stop it. He couldn’t tell them. His only hope was that this was Witch-approved—that the time-stop meant she allowed it. Because if she hadn’t, the price would be unbearable.

Clind: “Are you alright, Subaru-sama? Confusion.”

Only Clind seemed able to move, the others frozen by his sudden outburst.

Subaru forced a smile. “You know, usually I’d say I’m fine and move on… but I don’t think I have to this time.”

Even if this world was doomed, even if every soul here would vanish when it reset, he still needed to be careful. They were his friends—his family—and he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting them, even in a world already fated to end.

Emilia: “What do you mean, Subaru? No, it doesn’t matter—just tell us if you need something, okay?”

Garfiel: “Yeah! We wanna help, boss!”

Sylphy: “Subaru-sama, it was you and Lady Emilia who taught me to ask for help when I need it. I would implore you to do the same.”

Meili: “Hmm~ hmm~ agreed~”

Subaru laughed under his breath. “I think we’re all going to die soon… Don’t panic though! I’m not completely sure! We might—at least I might—gain something amazing if we don’t die!”

He wiped at his eyes. “Truth is, I’m not crying because I fear dying. I’m crying because I fear what I might gain… and at what cost if I don’t.”
Everyone fell silent at those words until Otto grabbed him by the shoulders.

Otto: “What in the Od are you talking about, Natsuki-san?! What do you mean we might die?! What do you mean you don’t fear dying?! What do you mean you might gain something?!”

Subaru: “Calm down, Otto! I let my tongue slip. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t actually think we’re going to die, okay? Calm down, yeah?”

Even if this was a doomed world, he reminded himself again, he still had to be careful—not with his words, but with his intent. The Witch punished intent, not accident. If he truly meant to reveal his secret, the curse would activate. But did he even intend to tell them anymore? Everyone here was going to die regardless. Maybe intention didn’t matter now.

Otto: “So what the fuck do you mean?! Because when you say there’s danger, there usually is!!!”

Subaru: “Otto, everyone, do you see that up there?”

Everyone: “Yeah…?”

Roswaal: “I thiiink we waaant~ a mooore specific explanation than thaaat~ Subaru-kun~.”

Emilia: “I kinda want to know why I can’t remember this ever happening…?”

Subaru exhaled. “I’ll explain, but I want to say a few things first.”

After confirming everyone’s agreement, he and Otto sat down for what was going to be a difficult conversation.
Subaru: “First, everything you’re watching right now—it’s real. It happened. End of story.”

Emilia: “B-but I don’t remember it.”

Subaru: “I know you don’t. That’s the point. No one can remember it. Only I can. Only I ever can.”
He looked down at his trembling hands. Beatrice walked over, sat on his lap, and gripped his hand tightly.

Beatrice: “Take your time, in fact.”

He nodded shakily, tried to speak—and then his throat locked. The words died before reaching air.
He swallowed, trembling harder, realizing why.
In truth, there were three reasons he couldn’t say it.
Not everyone here could be trusted.
The Witch was watching.
And the fear—years of pain branded into him—still ruled his body.

Subaru: “I want to tell you, more than anything. But I can’t. Not because I don’t trust you, or don’t want to. I do. But I need to see where this goes first, alright?”

Beatrice: “Alright, we will wait. Just promise you’ll ask for help if you need it, ok, I suppose?”

Subaru: “Trust me, if there’s one thing I’ve learned up till now—it’s that asking for help is the only solution for someone like me.”

—

Chin: “I really can’t remember any of this.”

Kan: “Yeah!”

Chin: “This must be fake!”

Felt: “Ya better hope it is! If this really happened, you’re getting the same treatment as Big Bro! You hear me!?”

Fear properly instilled in the three idiots, the Felt Camp went back to watching the screen.

—

[Subaru: “Is my head on someone’s lap?”

???: You’re awake?

Subaru: I didn’t know cute girls were this hairy…Wait that can’t be right!

Raising his head to look at the owner of the lap he was currently occupying, Subaru saw only the expression of an unusually large cat.
Getting himself off this position at a frightening speed, Subaru expressed his confusion before being met with teasing from the strange creature.]

—

Fred: “Hahahahah!!”

—

Liliana: “Haha! Seems like our resident Lolimancer has gotten himself in quite the predicament.”

Announce Liliana, who was given access to the city broadcasting device in hopes of keeping the people calm and happy.

As the people of Pristella, and those across the nations, enjoyed the humour of his precarious situation, time kept ticking toward the end.

—

Vegue: “This child really is a fool…still, funny…”

—

Able: “*Sigh*

Medium: “Haha! Husband-kun is so funny!”

Flop: “Indeed, Husband-kun was dealt a really bad hand.”

The Emperor, still seated on his balcony, was joined by the O’Connell siblings, Taritta, and Jamal, who had already sent messages out to the divine generals.”

—

[The boy apologies for inconveniencing the silver-haired maiden, but this apology is rejected on the basis of the action being born from self-interest.

Emilia: You have some idea who stole my insignia, right?

Subaru: Insignia? You mean one of those badge things that shows your affiliation?

Emilia: It has a jewel in the center, and it’s about this big.

Subaru: Sorry, but no matter how many times you ask, I have no idea.

Emilia once again began hurriedly dismissing him before swiftly making her exit, leaving both the stranger and her spirit in the alleyway.
Puck: Sorry about her. She’s so insincere. Don’t think badly of her.

Subaru: Insincere? I think this goes beyond that. She was in such a hurry to find what was stolen from her, yet she stopped to help me. And she even came up with that lame excuse for a favor so I wouldn't feel I owed her even though I’m a total stranger.

After Puck floated away, Subaru stared out of the alley as he contemplated something.

Subaru: Anyone who lives like that… is gonna end up wasting their whole life!]

—

Following the declaration by the black haired boiled screen, there were many different reactions.

—

Tiriena: “Ohh! Isn’t the insignia a sign of a royal candidate of the Dragon Kingdom? If that’s the case, that must be one of the candidates.”

Attendant: “I've never heard of that highness…”

Tiriena: “I've only heard of it in reports, but supposedly, an insignia of that kind can differentiate a dragon candidate. Meaning, if you hold it and it glows, you become a potential ruler.”

Attendant: “Sounds like a precarious system…”

Tiriena: “*Chuckle* Agreed, but you must remember, every nation works differently.”

Attendant: “Yet to lose such a device… it can only spell disaster.”

Tiriena: “Indeed.”

—

Vague: “Agh! A spirit!? What a disgusting thing to shove in my face! I thought I would be able to get quiet up here!”

—

Able: “You’re one to talk Natsuki Subaru, as the one who wastes his own life assisting others, I don’t think you have the right to judge.”

—

Zarestia: “Both of these children are wasting their time…”

—

Julius: “It seems you’ve always been the meddlesome type, haven’t you, my friend?”

—

Hiain: “Schwartz is always looking to help others! No way he would leave such a pretty lady behind without repaying his debt!”

As his brother's in arms confirmed his words, they all thought back to the cleansing — the Sparka, that their commander had subjected himself to for the simple purpose of assisting a friend.

—

Cecilus: “Hahahaha! Seems the boss’s story begins here! How riveting, how exciting, how glorious! Come Spica, Arakiya, it seems his majesty wishes to watch this tale with us! I would expect nothing less, after all, to watch such a story you need the main character!”

In true stargazer fashion, Cecilus was able to predict his summons, and twist it into his narrative, while also remaining cooperative.

Spica: “Uua, ahh uah!”

Arakiya: “*Sigh*”

—

[Subaru: Hey! Wait up!

Once again, the young lady attempted to refuse any help from the black-haired boy, but this time he was prepared.
Countering with his own reasons to help, including the famous ‘one good deed per day’ usually spoken by an idealistic noble.
At last, with the spirit’s approving opinion, the Elf accepts this otherworlder’s sudden assistance.

Unsuccessful in their attempts to find the thief time and again, the trio end up overlooking the city from a highpoint.
Only then do they think it appropriate to introduce themselves to one another…

Subaru: I’ll introduce myself first, then.

Striking his signature pose, so spoke the man of the hour–

Subaru: My name is Natsuki Subaru! Not only am I clueless, I'm also broke beyond compare! Nice to meet ya!

???: When that’s all you say, you really do sound hopeless

Puck: And I’m Puck! Nice to meet you!

???: It’s very unusual to see someone touch a spirit so casually.]

—

Tiriena: “Haha, I can be sure the Holy king is rolling in his throne.”

—

There were many around the world, mostly centering around spirit arts users and citizens of Gusteko, that could not bear to look nor accept this human’s disrespect to a being of such high regard.

Holy king: “How dare this child treat a spirit with such disrespect?! Had that spirit not taken mercy upon him, I would have sent an assassin to get rid of him myself!”

Guards: “Agreed!”

—

Vague: “Hahahaha! This child is my new favorite! I’m sure father is losing his mind seeing this showing of a spirit being treated like the ragdoll it is!”

—

Emilia: “Haa… I miss you Puck…”

—

[Following this remark laced with a small amount of surprise, Subaru proceeds to essentially tell the elf how he has no idea where he is, which in context is understandable.

The conversation progresses with Subaru being looked over by the girl, as she comments on his well kept nails and clean pristine hands, her closeness bringing a blush to the young man’s cheeks.

Subaru: U-Uh, anyways, I know your cat’s name now, but I haven’t heard your yet.

???: My name?

Subaru: Yeah.

???: I’m…*****]

—

Most who lived in Lugunica or were knowledgeable of its affairs and didn’t outright know her had guessed the identity of the girl to be the half-elf candidate to the dragon throne — Emilia. After all, there were only so many people whose characteristics were exactly like those of the Witch.

Still, it indiscriminately confused all onlookers when this magic window seemingly malfunctioned as a name was being given.

—

[???: I have no family name, you can just call me “_______”.

Subaru: I see…_______…That’s a nice name.

For some reason, this praise earned the surprise of screen Emilia?, as well as a comment by Puck on her taste, before they set off their search once again.]

—

Everyone: “Eeh?????”

—

Emilia: “Subaru, why isn’t my name being specified?”

Subaru: “My guess is because you didn’t actually give on-screen-me your name, but an alias instead.”
Beatrice: “And what was the alias, I suppose?”

Subaru: “You don’t wanna know…”

Although everyone was confused by this answer, they all decided to accept their friend's silence, and act as if it didn’t matter to them to deal with their unending curiosity.

—

[???: Hey, Subaru…Do you get the feeling that this child is lost?

A troubled Plum appears!]

—

Plum: “It’s me! It’s me! Look, look it’s me! Daddy, Mommy, look!”

Raksha: “Yes dear, we can see, you look very cute.”

At that, Plum beamed with pride.

—

[Acknowledging the hypocrisy of the following statement, Subaru comments on how they should both focus on the current objective, but is angrily dismissed in the case of him not wanting to help those in need himself. The half-elf attempts to soothe the lost child, but this seems to prove ineffective, until-

Subaru: What I have here is one grooved-edge ten-yen coin.

Performing a magic trick that left screen Plum baffled, Subaru then surrendered the relic from his home world used for the trick to cheer up the girl]

—

Plum was getting many fond looks from others in the market, who both knew her and recognised her from the screen.

Plum: “That… didn’t happen…”

Everyone looking at her for her reaction was stunned at those words. How could the girl not remember an encounter with the other-worlder? She may be a child, but she was no fool.

Kadomon: “Plum, darlin’, are you sure you don’t remember this?”

Plum: “Y-yeah! I would remember this if it happened! Everyone, this is fake, this never happened!”

Everyone: “!!!”

Quickly, Raksha made sure to pull her daughter back from the crowd before things got messy, gesturing that everything was fine, and to ignore her child’s rambling.

Raksha: “Come Plum, I know this is confusing, but we don’t want to cause confusion with anyone else.”

Plum: “W-what!? Do you not believe me mommy? I’m telling the truth!”

Raksha: “I know you’re telling the truth sweetie, I know that he was not there when you were returned to me. But we cannot cause trouble for everyone else. Look around my daughter, everyone is concerned. You don’t want to worry them, right?”

Plum: “N-no…”

Raksha: “Alright, let's sit tight then.”

Getting an agreeable nod from her husband, the family re-took their seats.

—

[As they walked together with the lost child, Subaru commented on their trio seeming like a married couple and their daughter, only for the ‘mother’ to retort with how she only saw Subaru as the older brother at most.

Soon enough, the girl found her way back to her mother, leaving Subaru and his Elf companion to get back to their objective once again.
This time, they found themselves talking on a small bridge, and Subaru once again gave the ol’ “1 good deed per day” to justify his interest in helping.]

—

Todd: “This child is ridiculous, what kind of twisted place does he come from to make him act this way?”

Todd asked with genuine confusion and zero malice.

Katya: “I don’t know, but I can be sure it’s twisted.”

Answered his wife with just as much confusion.
Both citizens of the Sword Wolf Empire could not comprehend such altruistic behaviour as normal nor sane.

—

Crusch: “ I would expect nothing less from him.”

Wilhelm: “Indeed. It seems Subaru-dono was always the virtuous kind, worthy of the knight’s title.”

—

[???: Subaru, you're the type that basically wastes your whole life, aren't you?

Subaru: You're the last one I want saying that to me.

As Subaru comments on his and his companion’s similar age, the Elf girl reveals her identity as such, provoking the boy to express his fondness of “cute” and “beautiful” elves.]

—

Many members of the nobility across the world stated their disgust at both the girl's identity, and the boy's reaction. To them, it was an act of disrespect that someone would simply put aside their world's tragic history, even under the excuse of ignorance.

—

[Followed by the girl showing her embarrassment at the compliment, Puck emerged from his hiding spot and playfully punched Subaru in the cheek, explaining his reason for such being the “opposite of anger”.]

—

Holy king: “W-wh-wha-what is happening…?!”

—

Vague: “Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!”

—

[Suggesting that they should return to the crime scene to find more clues, Subaru and the Elf end up in front of a familiar face.

Kadomon: What? I thought I had a customer but it's just the broke kid?

Subaru: You really wanna take that attitude? Have you noticed I'm not who I was before?

Kadomon: What?

Subaru: Just look who I brought with me. I brought someone who might just become a regular!

???: Umm…Subaru, you seem to have some weird expectations of me, but I don't have any money either.
Subaru: Huh? Seriously?]

—

Bordeaux: “They are perfect for each other…”

The wiseman already disliked both of them, the girl for being the spitting image of a monster, and the boy for being a useless idiot who thought he was a hero. Each moment of ridiculous comedy fuelled his belief that these children should not hold a shred of power.

—

[Due to their lack of buying power, the apple (Fuck you appas!) merchant was readying himself to kick the boy to the curb once more, until-

???: Mister!

With Plum and Raksha’s appearance, the situation de-escalated rather quickly, and Kadomon was informed of his daughter received a helping hand from the “broke losers”.

After Plum gifts a flower to the kind Lady, Kadomon apologizes and acquiesces Subaru's request, pointing him in the direction of the Capital's slums.
Kadomon: It might be that Felt girl. You said a nimble little blonde girl, right? She's well-known in the slums. Dunno where she lives, though.]

—

Around the world, although those who had experienced the kindness of the boy on screen felt a fond feeling of vindication, seeing his kind action lead to his own victory.

—

Garfiel: “Boss’s old deeds always come back!”

—

Wilhelm: “You and your lady’s kindness are truly a sight to behold.”

—

Able: “Are moments like these what led you to be the way you are today? No, you were always like this.”

Flop: “See! You can get revenge on the world!”

Medium: “Yeah!”

—

Plum: “I still don’t remember this…”

—

[The duo arrived by sunset, bearing witness to the awful living conditions of the locals. While walking through the impoverished area, Puck comes out to give his insight and mention the limited time he has to stay corporeal.

Puck: On average, my ideal staying time is from about nine to five.

Subaru: Nine to five? You sound like a civil servant.]

—

The Flanders trio were disappointed, as they were hoping to hear more about this reference to another world.

—

[Bidding his goodbyes, Puck went to sleep for the rest of the day.
With only vague directions from the apple (never gonna happen appas!) man, the Witch look-alike resolved to ask the lesser-spirits, generating a dazzling show of soft lights around her being.]

—

Liliana: “Wow! How pretty! To think our city is graced with such a sight!”

—

True to the bard’s words, all those who had a shred of appreciation for beauty within them could not deny the majesty of the scene before them. THIS was spirit magic.

—

[Night fell, and following the directions given by the lesser spirits, Subaru tried to confirm their suspicions by asking a passerby.

Subaru: Hey, bro. Does a girl named Felt live up this way?

The man spoke of a loot house belonging to an “Old Man Rom”, before wishing them luck on their attempts to negotiate back what was stolen, finishing with a “Live Strong!”]

—

The same man who had appeared on screen was both entertained by his appearance, sharing it with those around him, and shocked to later realise that he does not remember this. His immediate assumption was that he had taken substances at the time. Although he could not remember…

—

[At last, the supposed place the thief was hiding at was reached, and though admitting that Subaru had been holding her back, the Elf girl said that she would try believing in this person she had only met a few hours ago to accomplish this task.

Subaru: Don’t come in until I say it’s alright, _______

The girl gave a confused look at the call of her name.

Subaru: …What?

???: N-Nothing. Nevermind. If you can get my insignia back, I’ll apologize.

Subaru: Excuse me…

Entering the loot house covered by shadow, Subaru reluctantly searched for anything or anyone who could be relevant to his search, only to step squarely on a pool of some gooey red substance.]

—

At that moment, the world paused. This time, it was not due to the intervention of a yin magic user. Instead, every warrior to every kid who had ever gotten a paper cut, froze at the site of the red substance announcing death.

—

The Emperor, forgoing any propriety, stood up abruptly to shout for his friend's retreat.

Able: “Get out of there you fool, Can’t you tell when you're in danger!”

Jamal: “Oh shit, if I didn’t know the kid survived, I would be really worried right about now.”

Flop: “Run! Run husband-kun!”

Medium: “Comeoncomeoncomeon….”

Taritta: “There’s no way he’s not getting hurt, unless Emily-sama steps up to help at once.”

—

Hiain: “Damn it bro! Ya gotta run!”

Idra: “Y-yeah! Right now!”

Waitz: “Shit! Bro! Run!”

—

Zarestia: “Like I said… anyway, where is that orb…?”

—

Julius: “Not Good! If I didn’t know he survived, I would be quite concerned!”

It took only a moment for the finest night to calm himself before he realised that his friend was in fact alive and unhurt.

Anastasia: “Indeed, very concerning.”

Halibel: “Su-san is not getting out of this one unscathed, I can just tell about this kind’da stuff you know? Even though he survives.”

—

Miklotov: “Was there a report of such an incident?”

Marcos: “Not that I remember, and I would remember.”

Miklotov: “Hmm…”

—

Vague: “Ohh well, it was fun while it lasted…”

—

Holy king: “Seems the boy will die any moment, as is the fate of all who disrespect the spirits, especially those with cursed hair.”

—

[The lantern used to illuminate the building’s interior was pushed forward, revealing a bloodied severed arm.
Subaru looked up, and the former owner of the arm was lit up as well– A giant, blood pouring out of his throat and mouth.

???: Oh dear, you found that? Well, I have no choice, then. Yes, I have no choice…

Seemingly being pushed, Subaru fell to the floor, losing his lantern.]

—

Shocked gasps rang throughout the four nations, whether it be the Emilia Camp feeling the grief of the moment hit them, the shock of the wise council who could not believe their hero would fall so easily, the fear of the people of Pristella who felt indignation and disgust at this tragedy, or the people of Vollachia, including the battalion, the emperor, his generals, and the pseudo-Amazonians.

—

Doltero: “What a disgusting way to attack an innocent child, this woman is nothing but a pig.”

The pig man himself could tell the killer was a woman due to her voice, a sickly sweet voice that announced nothing but death.

Toto: “Indeed, a truly abhorrent one, although, I must say, the royal candidate must have incredibly strong healing abilities if this boy survived.”

Manfred: “I do not believe anyone could survive that kind of injury. It makes me doubt the validity of this viewing.”

—

Cecilus: “Wow boss! Rough start, but I’ll tell ya what…”

The Blue Lightning started off in a cheery tone, ending up in a low growl.

Cecilus: “If I ever meet this insignificant side character trash, I’ll serve her the same dish she served you. On my name as the Blue Lightning and main character of this world.”

Spica: “UUA!!!”

Arakiya: “For once, we agree.”

After the three shared their mutual disgust for the hidden murderer on screen, they continued their journey towards the fortified city of Garkla together.

—

Roswaal: “Hmm… why isn’t he returning already…”

looking around, Roswaal could spot the distress on his Camp members' faces. Whether it would be the tears on the half-elf’s face, the rage on the little tiger’s, the heartbreak in the spirit’s, or the clear sign of promised revenge on the oni sister’s faces, everyone’s emotions were running high. Yet all he felt was numb apathy as he started to realise that things might not be as simple as he initially thought.

Roswaal: “…”

—

There were others of course who quickly hid the graphic imagery from each other. Those people included parents blocking their children’s sight.

—

Fred: “Hah?! Mom? Why are you?”

Reala: “Rafiel! Look away now! I don’t want you exposed to any more senseless violence!”

As the obedient little girl she was, Rafiel covered her eyes and ears at once, already feeling like she had seen too much with that flash of red in the sky.

—

Raksha: “Don’t look sweetie…!”

Kadomon: “Y-yeah, damn, that’s not good…… But it's not like it happened, right? Since Plum says she doesn’t remember this happening, and neither do I? So it's fake, right?”

Muttering the first part out loud, checking on his daughter who looked close to tears, and thinking the second part, The apple salesman hoped to escape reality. (I hate you appas!)

—

Felt: “NOOO! Old Man Rom!!!”

As Felt lost all reason watching the one she saw as her father die a brutal death, that same father could do nothing but hold his daughter as she cried in despair.

Rom: “Don’t worry sprite, I’m still here…”

Rom: “But still, I can’t lie, that imagery is quite damning, it really looked like I died, eeh?”

The rest of her Camp members were either too freaked out by the imagery on screen, or we’re now too freaked out after seeing their leader’s breakdown.

—

[When he looked down to evaluate the strange feeling around his abdomen, he saw it nearly cut in two.

Subaru: Oh, crap…Is all of this my blood?

Subaru: This is bad…Very bad.

???: Subaru? What’s wrong? Subaru?

Subaru: No…Run! Hurry!]

—

Garfiel was crying, Otto was close to it, Beako was shaking with tears, Petra wanted to scream through her own, the villagers visited by Ryuzu could only weep at the sight before them, Meili could only frown, Annerose held onto to Clind, Rem held Ram’s hand as silent tears slid down her face, and Emilia was glued to the screen in horror. All the while, Subaru stared with a blank face, trying to find any information of importance in this pivotal moment he always felt had some hidden significance.

—

[A thud was heard, and the Elf girl fell to the cold hard floor, slain by the unknown criminal.
Subaru: Wait there…I’m…going to…save you…

The hands of the boy and girl intertwined under the moonlight, and as the image on the screen was getting increasingly shaky and unstable–it cut to black.]

—

Able: “Mmm?”

Flop: “W-what happened?”

Medium: “Is it over?”

Jamal: “It must have been a fluke then…”

—

Cecilus: “Somethin’ is happening, isn’t it boss…”

—

Idra: “N-no! What is this? Did Schwartz just die? But that makes no sense!!!”

Gustave: “Calm yourselves, we know Schwartz lives, there is no reason for concern.”

Although there was much doubt, there was one thing that every person in the battalion held in common, absolute and total belief in their leader.
As such, they all quickly decided that the viewing was a trick, a lie, a disgrace, and a blasphemous attempt to sully their leader’s name.

Battalion: “Yes sir!”

—

Crusch: “Subaru-san… please, real or not, please be ok…”

Felix: “Ferris-chan can’t heal you if you're dead Subaru-kyun…”

Wilhelm: “Subaru-dono… even if this is all a lie, seeing you in such a state does no good for this old man’s heart.”

—

Heinkel van Astrea, who had been watching in silence and drowning in booze, could only scoff at the sight before him, receiving a worried look from Schult.

Schult: “This is all fake, right Heinkel-san?”

Heinkel: “Yeah yeah, don’t let some stupid magic fool ya, the kid’s alive an’ well. He became a hero, didn’t’he?”

Schult: “Yeah…”

—

The council of Wiseman had already agreed that the viewing currently being displayed was fake, believing that — according to Russell — the viewing was trying to demoralise the public by killing their hero.

—

Liliana: “Ohh…”

—

[…

???: What’s the matter, boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.
Subaru: …Huh?

???: I asked you about the apple. The apple! Do you even have money? (Screw you Appas!)

Subaru: …WHAT!?]

—

Emilia Camp: “Heh?”

Crusch Camp: “Wha—?”

Anastasia Camp: “Agh—?”

Felt Camp: “Heh?”

Wiseman council: “Hah?”

Gusteken Church and king: “Hah?”

Pristella: “—!?”

Flanders trio: “Eh?”

Vollachia: “Hah?”

Kararagi: “Eeh—?”

Zarestia: “Hmm?”

Witch cultists: “Heh?”

Not a single person in the entire world was spared from the confusion that the next few moments on the big screen would provide.

Chapter Text

—

[Kadomon: Don’t “what” me! The Apple! Are you buying it or not? 

Subaru: Oh…No, like I said, I’m broke beyond compare…]

—

Able: “What in the Od is happening…?”

—

Kuna: “I don’t get it.”

Holly: “Me either.”

Mizelda: “Yup, I really don’t get it…”

—

Yorna: “This is truly an unusual development…”

Tanza: “I just hope Schwartz-sama is alright…”

Olbart: “Regardless of this youngin’, are ya’ not plannin’ to listen to the emperor's summons?”

With a swift slap to the head, which the old man dodged, the fox woman continued to watch the story of the one who gave her peace.

—

Groovy: “I really don’t fucking get this, do ya?”

Moguro: “Negative, this does not match my data.”

Groovy: “Well aren’t ya’ just the fuckin’ best?”

—

[Kadomon: The hell? If you’re just browsing, then move along. I run a business here. I don’t have time for window-shoppers.]

—

Kadomon: “I don’t remember this…”

Raksha: “Really…?”

Kadomon: “Yeah! I think I’d remember this kid acting weird, I mean, he did act weird, just not that kind of weird, ya’ know?. 

Shouting out his indignation, and whispering out his explanation, the apple salesman stated so, the events taking place in the sky never occurred.

—

[The Call of the Witch sounded 

Checking his surroundings, Natsuki Subaru summarized what every watcher was thinking at that moment. 

Subaru: What’s going on? 

Subaru: Wasn’t it nighttime a minute ago?... 

Subaru: The wound on my belly is gone… 

Subaru: Oh, right! _______! Damn it, didn’t Puck ask me to take care of her? I have to get back to that shop!]

—

Otto was the first to realize something was wrong—terribly wrong. Events were repeating in an eerily similar fashion.

At first, he had brushed it off, assuming the scenes on the screen were showing the origins of his friend’s story. He’d decided to set aside his concern and simply watch. But as the pattern continued—and after seeing his friend’s own confused reaction—unease crept up his spine.

Still, Otto prided himself on being a professional. People liked to make fun of him, but he knew how to stay calm under pressure. That was why he kept his thoughts straight when he saw his friend die, return, look lost, and run straight back to his future lady love.

“W–what?” he managed.

Well, not that straight.

All he really understood was that something impossible was happening. The same moments were unfolding again—and his friend was wearing that same blank, uncomprehending face.

—

Abel could not move—not a twitch, not a breath.

He was not stupid. Unlike the fool before him, he understood the implications of the memories shown.

Abel had always known there was something wrong with the boy called Natsuki Subaru. He would use the full name, as if speaking it completely might somehow expose the mystery hidden within it.

Before the final battle with the Great Disaster, Abel had once held a knife to Subaru’s throat—practically begging him to explain what he was planning. Was he a Stargazer? “Was this all part of fate’s grand plan that YOU helped bring to pass?”

But the boy never admitted anything. Instead, he struck Abel—he punched the Emperor. He insisted he was innocent, no Stargazer, no schemer behind Chisha’s death. He had said that if it were between a stranger he’d never met and an acquaintance he found annoying, he would always save the one in front of him.

That impossible resolve—the will to save even the one who had used him—had forced Abel’s hand. He had dragged the boy into this war, and now the boy would save him. It made no sense that such a soul could exist, yet there he had stood, ready to take on the world for the very man who had threatened him.

But now… was it all a lie? How could it be?

No—it wasn’t. He truly was no Stargazer. He had known nothing of the Great Disaster, of Abel, or of Chisha.

And yet the truth might be far worse.

If what this spell revealed was true, then the boy did possess a horrific power—one he had known about all along, and had chosen to use.

—

Cecilus was waiting.

He knew this wasn’t over. He knew that it was he and the boy on the screen who took center stage in this world—and so, it could not be meaningless. It could not end here.

It took only a few seconds for the scene to unfold before him, and as it did, everything he had suspected was confirmed.

Cecilus had always known his boss could bend fate itself, though not in the same way he could. But how could this boy—this ridiculous, brilliant boy he had known for only a few weeks—leave such an indelible mark on the story of the world?

Cecilus: “Ah, of course. Of course! How could the stage end before the hero takes his bow?”

And that was when he realized it. He dropped to the floor laughing.

He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed until he could not breathe anymore—because at last, it was confirmed.

Though his companions still stared in rightful confusion at the scene before them, the main character had discerned the truth.

Not even death, in all its horror, could silence the only one he would ever follow without question.

Cecilus: “Now that’s a plot worth investing in, eh, Boss?”

—

Gustav: “That’s… impossible. Death does not bend.”

That was the first thought to strike the leader of the battalion as the truth began to take shape before his eyes.

First: This viewing is real. He did not know how or why, but he knew it was revealing a broken law of the world—one he could not ignore as the man responsible for so many lives.

Second came the implications. Gustav had built his life on the creed that loyalty was virtue. Yet this ability—this power that mocked death—turned loyalty itself into sin.

If the boy could die and return, then what of the Empire and its laws? What of all that he had enforced in their name?

He caught himself. No. Such thoughts were treason, and nothing was yet confirmed. He forced his hands to still.

But deep within, the truth gnawed at him.

Should his assumption prove right, Gustav Morelo had already condemned himself to a pit deeper than any carved by the madness of a Witch Factor.

—

Halibel: “Heh… so that’s what it was.”

The wolfman was surprised, yes—but only for a moment. His pulse steadied quickly as his eyes drifted toward his companions, who sat frozen between confusion and concern for their friend.

He was a shinobi, after all. A man who could fashion clones of himself, send them to die, and feel no shame in the sacrifice. Though he lacked the madness of his kin, he had long understood that life itself could be a weapon, and sometimes it had to be used as one.

“If anyone,” he thought, “it should be you, Su-san.”

Truly, if any soul could be trusted with a power that mocked the gods, it was the boy who had smiled through ruin—the kind fool who had led him through the smoke and blood of war with a grin that refused to fade.

—

[Subaru dashed through the streets, focused on his sole goal of reaching the place he last remembered from that…vision? 

Only for history to repeat itself- 

Camberley: Hey, why do you look so spooked? 

Rachins: If you don’t wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got! 

Subaru: You guys…Did you see I was alone and decided to get revenge? 

Just when Subaru was about to obey his muggers, their cockiness proved a mistake when the athletic boy took out the main delinquent of the group, followed by the other two. 

Arriving at the loothouse, its location now known by memory, the boy tried to calm himself down, but it seemed to have little effect when faced with what he had just experienced. 

Subaru: Am I stupid? After coming this far, I can’t just leave without answers!]

—

Heinkel: “Tch… kid’s running straight back into it.”

He leaned forward, jaw tight. Irritation burned behind his eyes—another reckless fool, another walking disaster.

Heinkel: “Doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even—“

He stopped himself. No. He wasn’t going to finish that thought.

Heinkel: “…Damn it.”

Beside him, Schult looked up, confused, tugging at his sleeve.

Schult: “Is he… gonna be okay?”

Heinkel didn’t look at him. His fingers tightened around the flask at his belt.

Heinkel: “…Don’t ask questions like that, kid.”

He kept his gaze fixed ahead, irritation gnawing deeper.

He didn’t understand what he was seeing—only that it stank of the same kind of rot that had ruined his life.

—

Gaston: “Hah! Look at that idiot, still pickin’ fights! Didn’t we already knock him around once?”

Camberley: “Don’t say that so loud, man—Lady Felt’s right there!”

Gaston: “What, I’m just sayin’! Ain’t every day you see a loser come back for round two!”

Felt raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Felt: “You sure you three aren’t the losers here? Looks like my Big Bro just wiped the floor with you.”

All three froze.

Camberley: “W-well, we were caught off guard!”

Gaston: “Yeah! He, uh, moved funny, that’s all!”

They talked over each other, voices cracking.

Rachins didn’t join in. His smile had slipped. He leaned forward, squinting at the screen.

Rachins: “Wait. That guy… didn’t he—?”

He stopped. His jaw worked once before he muttered, barely audible,

Rachins: “…Didn’t he just die?”

—

Toto: “No one just gets up from that. No one.”

She crossed her arms, half–scowling, half–thinking. The woman who ran the Red Light District of Flanders had built her life on reading people, understanding motives, finding the story beneath every smile.

But this? This didn’t fit any story she knew.

Toto: “He remembers,” she muttered. “He has to.”

A pause, the faintest curl of disgust in her tone.

Toto: “Is that how he did it? Is that how this fool of a hero managed to build his legend—by walking through death like it was a door?”

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

Toto: “For Od’s sake… maybe that’s all it takes. Die enough times, and people start calling you a saint.”

—

Groovy: “Oh, come on! No way—no way that brat’s still standing!”

He threw his hands up, swearing as the screen played on. The Divine General of Curses had seen soldiers stitched back together by magic, had seen whole battalions rot in a minute—but this? This was something else.

Groovy: “He was fucking dead! I saw it, everyone fucking saw it! You don’t just fucking walk off being gutted!”

His voice kept rising, rough and ragged, like he could shout the confusion out of his own skull.

Moguro didn’t move beside him, silent as always, his expression unreadable while Groovy paced.

Groovy: “Tch… kid’s got guts, I’ll give him that. But that ain’t no miracle—the kid’s fucking cursed.”

The words hung in the air, and for once, Groovy didn’t follow them up with another shout. His breathing steadied, eyes fixed on the screen like he could burn the truth out of it.

He’d spent his whole life reading curses—unraveling, twisting, undoing them—but whatever this was, it didn’t follow a single rule he knew.

For the first time in years, the Divine General of Curses realized he might be looking at something beyond even his understanding.

Groovy had insulted the brat in passing once, never giving him a second thought. Now, watching that same boy walk away from death, he finally wondered if he’d overlooked the monster hiding under that fucking smile.

—

Madelyn was halfway through the doors of the fortress in Garkla when the image flared to life before her eyes.

Madelyn: “What the friggin’ hell is this?!”

Her voice cracked off the walls, startling a pair of soldiers who immediately pretended not to hear. She stormed closer, horns catching the light as she glared at the screen.

Madelyn: “No, no, no—he died! I saw it! Everyone saw it!”

She jabbed a finger toward the image, stepping forward like she could argue the world into sense.

Madelyn: “Ain’t that the same brat from the war?! The one who helped His Excellency beat that nightmare disaster?!”

The boy on the screen kept moving—calm, alive, like nothing had happened.

Madelyn: “How’s he walkin’ around like that?! What kinda friggin’ magic is this supposed to be?!”

The Dragonkin stomped once, hard enough to echo through the marble hall. Her chest heaved, breath coming fast.

Madelyn: “Tch… this dragon doesn’t get it. There ain’t a single spell that does somethin’ like that.”

She froze then, mouth half-open, eyes narrowing as the reality refused to make sense.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t strength. It wasn’t even life.

For the first time, the proud Dragonkin found herself afraid of something she couldn’t smash.

And before she could put words to that fear, the scene shifted again.

—

Capella reclined on a long, pale fainting couch, silk pooled around her like a lazy shadow. Guards stood frozen along the walls, faces covered, statues of obedience; the metia had been on in her chamber for some time. She’d watched most of it already, bored by the lovey, sappy bits — then the kill flashed, and something wicked in her stirred.

Capella: “Oh? A tasty little mess.”

She’d been watching him for a while, eyes half-closed until the show finally bothered to become interesting. Now her attention snapped. The screen offered only images, but she remembered the smell from Pristella well enough — the same witch’s tang that clung to certain authorities.

Capella: “What an idiot meatbag, wandering right back into where he just died.”

She sat up, pleased with herself, as if she’d solved an easy puzzle.

Capella: “Ripped his leg off once. Poisoned him twice. Immune to dragon-blood and still dancing. Fascinating. Maybe I should bring him here.”

Her amusement folded into a cold curiosity. If he had the witch’s scent in person, the implications were delicious.

Capella: “If he has an authority…oh, the games we’ll play. If he’s nothing, well — practice is practice.”

Then, casual and commanding, she sent the order that made the room freeze.

Capella: “Search for him. Find him and report back, WITHOUT messing with him. And listen — no one touches him without my say. You touch him uninvited, and I’ll remake you into something I can eat for dessert.”

She sank back, smiling, already picturing how Pride’s return would become the cult’s next game.

—

[Calling for anyone, he knocked on the door ever faster and more desperately, trying to make sense of what had transpired- 

???: Shut yer trap! You tryin’ to bust down my door when you don’t even know the signal or password?! 

Subaru: You’re…  

The loothouse, until now only seen when the dark of night had already overtaken it, was now plenty visible. 

After some light banter with the old man running this fine establishment, Subaru needed to ask. 

Subaru: Actually, this is a dumb question, but…have you died recently?]

—

Zarestia had been looking for her orb. That was the important thing. She wasn’t really watching the sky; it was of no relevance to her what it showed.

Then she heard the violent murder echo from the screen. The death was loud and messy, a spectacle that made her itch with curiosity rather than pity for the weakling before her. She pulled her focus away from the hunt, though it was important, and turned her gaze toward the events unfolding.

The boy kicked his way into the loothouse, spoke to the old man, and asked, incredibly plainly, “Have you died recently?” The question did something small and precise inside her mind — a hinge shifting.

He’d bled. She’d seen that. He’d gone still. He’d died. She’d seen that too. And then he came back. How?

Either he was seeing the future, or he was experiencing the past. She had to know. Would she need to kill him too?

Zarestia decided it was interesting and relevant enough. She would pay attention to this child.

—

Russell Fellow stood beside the Wise Men’s dais, fingers clasped behind his back as the metia projected its impossible image into the council chamber. Mages whispered over their instruments, muttering about mana feedback and resonance. He half-listened — until the boy on the screen asked the old man, almost casually, “Have you died recently?”

The room stilled.

Russell’s mind ticked. The Hero of Priestella, the boy who had humiliated himself only to redeem his name, now speaking as though death were a conversation piece.

He felt one of his attendants lean close.

Attendant: “Lord Fellow, the phenomenon’s mana flow hasn’t—”

Russell raised a hand. “A moment please.”

He studied the flickering projection, every instinct demanding that the numbers balance and the world make sense. The hero had died. He had seen the wound. And yet—there he stood again, body whole, voice steady.

Russell: “That’s… not foresight. I don’t think…”

The idea formed, unwanted. He’d heard of stargazers — cursed ones who glimpsed destiny but could never alter it. But this… this was something worse.

Russell: “If he can die and come back, then…”

His throat tightened. The economist in him felt an absurd urge to calculate the price of such a thing. He caught himself, straightened his cuffs, and forced his tone level again.

If the boy could die and return, then causality itself was bending around him. The laws of equivalent exchange, of life and cost — all meaningless.

Russell adjusted his cuffs, expression composed, and stepped toward the Wise Men. “It’s interacting with causality itself,” he said evenly. “End the investigation. I’ll divert my resources toward maintaining stability among the populace. There’s no point in trying to decode a phenomenon beyond our grasp.”

He paused, one last glance at the screen, the faintest tension visible in his jaw.

“Hero or not,” Russell murmured, “that boy is a monstrous variable.”

—

Marcos Gildark stood on the far side of the dais, close enough to guard the Wise Men themselves as the device projected its strange vision. He had not been in Priestella during the crisis there, but he had read the reports — about the boy’s speech that reached every street and window, breaking the grip of wrath itself. A hero of words, not of war.

Now that same voice on the screen, calm and casual, asked an old man, “Have you died recently?”

Russell Fellow’s measured statement — interacting with causality itself — hung in the air. The captain of the guard understood little of magical theory, but he understood the weight of such a phrase. To tamper with life and death was not sorcery. It was desecration.

He glanced toward Russell, realization tightening his jaw, then stepped forward across the marble floor.

“If this is true,” he said, his tone even but heavy, “then that child bears a burden no one should. There is no honor in a battle you cannot lose, and no salvation in dying without consequence.”

He looked from Russell to the Wise Men, then back to the flickering image of the boy.

“This will unsettle the capital,” he continued. “I’ll begin reinforcing the patrols and calm the districts before panic starts. We can’t allow the people’s belief to crack.”

Russell gave a brief nod, already lost in calculation. Marcos turned sharply, cloak brushing against the marble as he strode toward the exit, his expression composed. But inside, his creed wavered for the first time in years.

To live, to fight, to die — those were the laws he’d built his life upon.

And now, one boy had made a mockery of them all.

—

Bordeaux Zergev watched as Russell Fellow’s even voice faded across the chamber and the captain of the guard left to carry out his orders. The room settled—only the metia’s low hum and the cautious shuffle of scribes remained.

He had seen enough. The hero of Priestella—the same insolent boy who’d once made a spectacle of himself—now strode across the screen as if nothing had happened. No wound, no scar, no sense. Bordeaux’s jaw tightened.

Miklotov McMahon, standing beside him, kept his gaze on the projection. “It seems Fellow’s assessment is correct,” he said. “Causality itself is bending.”

Bordeaux grunted. “Or the recording is false. I’ll believe in illusion before I bless this—this blasphemy.”

Miklotov glanced over. “You may call it blasphemy, but it could be called possibility. There are truths beyond our measure, you know this.”

“Spare me,” Bordeaux said. “The boy’s an anomaly to be contained.”

The metia flickered, light skimming the dais. Silence stretched.

“You sent the message?” Bordeaux asked at last.

Miklotov nodded. “The Sword Saint is on his way. If anyone can verify what we’ve seen, it’s him.”

Bordeaux looked back at the living boy who shouldn’t be alive. “Good. If this power is real, we catalogue it, contain it, or cut it down before the public learns its name.”

Miklotov exhaled softly. “Always the soldier.”

“Someone has to be,” Bordeaux replied, turning from the glow. He left the chamber with a final thought he refused to voice: maybe this wasn't an illusion—or blasphemy—but the beginning of something that could split the world in half like the witch had once done herself.

—

Tiriena sat in her office, her attendant at the smaller desk beside her, finishing a letter requesting a meeting with the Holy King—something that should’ve been routine by now.

The scrying glass flickered again. She looked up, frowning at the chaos spilling across it—a boy cut down in the street, blood pooling, steel flashing. Disgust twisted in her chest.

“What cruelty,” she muttered, half to herself. “That’s the hero of Priestella, isn’t it? The one who took down multiple Archbishops? To butcher a child like that…”

Then he stood again. Alive. Moving. Talking.

Her words stopped cold. The pen slipped from her attendant’s fingers. They both just stared as the impossible replayed itself.

And then the boy asked, almost casually, “Have you died recently?”

Tiriena laughed—sharp, startled, completely out of place. It rang off the stone walls before she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to steady her breath.

“Tiriena-sama… are you alright?” her attendant asked quietly.

She waved her off, still staring at the image. “Do you think there’s really something like that in this world? Someone who can just… die and come back?”

She hesitated. “Maybe it’s some kind of vision? Like a stargazer seeing the future—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, this isn’t that. He remembers it. You can see it. That pain isn’t memory, it’s—he lived through it. This is absurd!.”

Her voice dropped, low and tense. “If that’s real, if that boy can do that… It's dangerous. For all of us.”

She pushed her chair back and stood. “Forget the letter. I’m going to the Holy King myself. We must prepare for another possible great disaster.”

—

The King sat upon his throne, surrounded by his silent court. The air was still; even the torches seemed to hesitate as the image on the scrying glass replayed.

A black-haired boy.

The cursed color.

A spirit by his side, treated like a toy.

The King’s jaw tightened as the child was struck down. He almost turned away—so be it, he thought. Let the world correct what never should have been born.

But then the boy stood again.

Alive. Whole. Speaking.

For a long moment, the King did not breathe. The murmurs around him blurred into nothing. His fingers clenched the armrest until the carved wood cracked beneath his grip.

“What am I looking at,” he said, voice low, shaking with fury. “This isn’t resurrection. This is mockery.”

He rose, the weight of his robes shifting like storm clouds. “To die and return… to defy Od Lagna’s law itself—what blasphemy walks our world?”

The courtiers stared, none daring to speak.

“This boy,” the King continued, staring at the screen as the youth asked “Have you died recently?” “He isn’t chosen. He’s cursed. And if that curse spreads—”

He cut himself off. His pulse thundered in his ears. The words spreads to whom? clawed at the back of his mind.

The King drew a steady breath, forcing his voice calm. “Do not summon the bishop. She’ll come whether I call or not.”

He turned, eyes hard as flint. “Lock down the palace. Prepare every safety measure we have. Send riders — and send them quietly — I want anything and everything on that boy: who he is, where he’s been, who he knows. Pull every ledger, every witness, every scrap of gossip. Protect this castle above all else.”

His hand tightened, a quiet, final order. “And covertly contact the network. If there is a hand in the shadows that can find him, I want it on this now.”

—

The mad prince had been slouched against the wall of his cell when the vision started. For once, something new to watch — a black-haired brat mouthing off at a spirit. He actually laughed at that. Finally, someone treating the great fire pest the way it deserved.

Then the kid died.

Steel, blood, stillness. Vague sighed through his nose. “Figures the fun had to end…”

The light on the wall dimmed… then flickered again.

Wait.

The apple stand. Same brat. Same scene.

Vague leaned forward. “No way.”

He watched the muggers step out, the kid move first this time — smarter, quicker. Impressive, he thought. Then the door, the old man, that absurd question: “Have you died recently?”

Vague blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. 

Vague: “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

For a second, something cold slid through his gut. He’d seen spirits twist people before, but this? Going back? That was new.

“And they call me crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Still… This is great. If he’s alive again and keeps moving forward, at least he can keep disrespecting that trash of a spirit.”

A crooked grin cut across his face. “At the very least, I’ll be entertained.”

He laughed once more, rough and genuine, and went back to watching what would surely send his father into a mad frenzy.

—

The old man rubbed at his jaw, watching the flickering image with his usual half-squint.

Felt was trying to act tough again — arms crossed, chin high — but he could see the tremble in her hands. She’d fallen apart when that first death hit the screen, and now she was holding herself together by sheer stubbornness.

Rom: “Heh. Kid’s got more grit than half the nobles out there… but she’s still just a kid.”

He sighed. “Can’t lie, I feel the same way,” he muttered, low enough for no one but himself to hear. “Watchin’ myself get killed like that… how do you even argue with somethin’ so real?”

On the screen, the brat — the same black-haired boy who’d helped them, who’d walked into his bar all polite and awkward and way too kind — was running straight back into the same street.

Rom leaned forward. “You idiot, what are you doin’…”

Then came the knock, the familiar door, the familiar old man — himself — and that line that made every muscle in his body freeze.

“Have you died recently?”

Rom’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just ask me that, kid!” he blurted, half laughing, half horrified.

Around him, the Musketeers were dead silent. Even Felt stopped fidgeting.

He stared at the glowing image, trying to make sense of it, but the longer he looked, the less sense it made. “What’s crazy,” he muttered, voice dropping, “is I don’t remember that happenin’ either. Not one bit.”

Ezzo turned toward him, voice tight. “Rom-san… you really don’t remember what’s goin’ on up there?”

Rom shook his head, exasperated. “Nope. Not a bit.”

“Then what the hell is going on?!” Ezzo snapped, panic edging his tone — not just over the nonsense on screen, but over the fact that the whole damned world was watching their camp fall apart.

Rom didn’t answer. He just grunted, eyes fixed on the flickering vision. “Wish I knew, kid. Wish I knew.”

—

[Surprisingly, the old man managed to find the absurd question humorous, and after some more questioning, Subaru was left wondering what part of his memories were just dreams and the purpose of his summoning to this world.  

The discussion moved to the insignia the Silver-haired girl had been looking for in the…dream? vision?, but the old man responded with him having nothing of the sort, though there was someone scheduled to bring loot later in the day–Felt.]

—

Silk rustled; fans snapped shut with delighted scandal.

Noble 1: “So that’s the candidate? The little gutter rat who stole an insignia?”

Noble 2: “Felt, was it? A thief from the slums parading as royalty—Lugnica truly is a comedy.”

Noble 3: “Did you hear the old brute in the loot-house? ‘My friend Felt will bring the merchandise.’ Merchandise—how regal.”

Noble 4, dryly: “At least she’s efficient. Skip the treasury; go straight to theft.”

A ripple of laughter.

Noble 2: “Imagine the coronation vows: ‘I, Felt, promise to lift every purse equally.’”

Noble 1: “No pedigree, no manners, and a fence for a guardian. Perhaps she’ll crown the loot-house as her palace.”

The laughter swelled, mean and bright against the marble.

Noble 3, lowering his voice: “If this is a ‘royal selection,’ the crown’s standards have fallen with the price of scrap.”

—

[The friendly conversation between the young and old man continued, leading Rom to open one of Subaru’s otherworldly delights and feast on the supposedly tasty treat.]

—

Petra: “Hey! That’s mine! You can’t have that!”

Subaru smiled at the childish complaint put forth by the young girl. He was glad that the fate she would have succumbed to, thanks to Al’s betrayal, was replaced by simple indignation over having her snack stolen in a parallel timeline.

—

[Sitting outside of the loothouse, Subaru reflected upon the impoverished landscape, commenting on the parallels between his world and this one.]

—

Doltero: “Again this rude pig dangles that “other world” before us, and again he refuses to say a word more.”

—

Ezzo: “If only he kept talking…”

—

[???: Hey, what're you doing here? You're in my way. 

Subaru: Felt! 

Once they begin to talk, it becomes apparent that Felt has no record of Subaru, which she supposedly saw earlier that day.]

—

Across the four nations, another shock rippled through the world. For every watcher—noble, knight, merchant, and thief alike—the sight of the girl denying their acquaintanceship was one more reason, one more step, one more undeniable hint pushing them toward the same dreadful conclusion: someone out there had defied death.

—

[Rom: For a rat… 

Felt: Poison. 

Rom: For a white whale… 

Felt: A harpoon. 

Rom: To a noble dragon lord we are… 

Felt: Shitbags.  

Between the old man and the two youngsters, some light banter developed that led to Subaru presenting his cell-phone and its capabilities, leading Rom to baptize it with the name “Metia”.]

—

Russell Fellow had retreated from the Great Hall to his private office—a quieter place where he could manage the kingdom’s relief efforts in peace. The broad window before his desk overlooked the city, and from it, faint light flickered and sound carried in: the same image and voice that now blanketed the capital.

That device… His gaze sharpened as he recognized the small silver rectangle in the boy’s hand. Isn’t that the very thing I purchased from him during the alliance against the White Whale?

It had worked once, brilliantly. The prediction had been exact, the beast’s death following soon after. But when he’d tried to replicate the effect later, the thing refused to stir—silent, inert, useless.

Reaching into his drawer, Russell withdrew the relic he’d kept all this time. He turned it over in his hand, feeling its weight, its cold stillness.

“Same as before.” he muttered, watching its twin shine faintly through the open window. “Maybe I was just never meant to know how it works.”

—

Anastasia sat on the edge of the open balcony, the afternoon light glinting off her pale scarf as her camp gathered close—Julius seated beside her, the Pearlbaton siblings huddled together nearby, Ricardo sprawled out with his usual grin, and Halibel sitting against a post in the shade.

She tilted her head toward the projection visible across the street, a faint smirk curving her lips. 

Anastasia: “Say, Julius, that’s the same thing Natsuki-kun used back durin’ the White Whale hunt, ain’t it?”

Julius glanced at the image, then back at her, brow furrowing. 

Julius: “It is. It’s a Metia. If I remember correctly, he sold it to Russell afterward.”

“Mm. That’s what I thought,” she murmured, eyes narrowing in thought. “Guess my memory’s still workin’ fine.”

The siblings nodded among themselves, whispering, “That’s definitely it,” while Halibel stayed quiet, his expression unreadable.

Anastasia folded her hands neatly in her lap. “And what do you make of this whole business, then? Dying one moment, walking again the next?”

For once, Julius didn’t answer right away. He stared at the projection, his usual composure cracked by disbelief. “I… don’t understand. I watched him die, we all did, and now he’s repeating events… It’s as if… I can’t even begin to grasp what we’re seeing.”

Anastasia’s gaze lingered on the flickering image, her tone soft but careful. “Mm. That makes two of us.”

—

Across the world, collective wonder rippled like a slow tide. Scholars leaned closer to their instruments, desperate to study the strange device that defied all known theory. Merchants whispered of profit and opportunity, imagining fortunes born from imitation. And the common folk, seeing that small glowing screen flicker with light and sound unlike any magic or witchcraft they knew, could only stare in awe—certain that whatever it was, it did not belong to this world.

—

[Wanting to exchange the “Metia” for the insignia, Subaru was denied this by Felt herself, who already had a client lined up for it. 

A knock at the door sounded, and as Felt went to investigate, Old Man Rom confessed to Subaru how he had taken it upon himself to look after Felt while she stayed in the slums. 

Felt: I was right. It was for me. Over here, care to sit down? 

???: There seem to be several outsiders here.]

—

Hearing that psychopathic-bitch’s voice again, the tiger recoiled in disgust and hatred. His entire body tensed, claws half-drawn before he even realized it. That sound—dripping with mockery—belonged to the monster who’d butchered his boss, his brother, his damn family.

Even if she was no longer alive, the memory of her cruelty crawled beneath his skin like poison. Garfiel’s teeth ground together, a low growl rumbling out. 

Garfiel: “That sick bitch… even dead, yer’ still hauntin’ us.” 

His eyes blazed toward the image. 

Garfiel: “If there’s any justice in this world, I’ll tear ya apart again.”

—

Capella’s head tilted as the voice echoed through her chamber. For a second, she blinked—then her lips curled into a grin, sharp and lazy.

“Well, would you look at that,” she muttered, letting out a low laugh. “That’s my little hunter, isn’t it? Still talking even after dying. Cute.”

She drummed her fingers on the armrest, eyes glittering. “I trained that girl well. One of the prettier meatbags, too.” A pause, her smile turning crooked. “Nice to see her still breathing… maybe I’ll even find out who killed you. Could be fun.”

With that, she leaned back again, humming to herself, looking almost fond—for a creature who’d never loved a single thing in her life.

—

Within the partly rebuilt transmissions tower:

Liliana: “Kiritaka! Are you all right? You didn’t faint, did you? You looked pale even before this started!”

She leaned forward, her bright voice trembling with worry. Kiritaka, seated nearby, rubbed at his temples with a pained sigh, clearly trying to process the madness unfolding on-screen.

Liliana: “Ahaha, no need to panic, everyone! I’m sure it will all be fine! Our brave hero clearly saw this coming—it must be some kind of warning! After all, he survives and becomes a hero, doesn’t he?”

Her laugh rang a little too loudly in the echoing tower, the forced brightness doing nothing to mask the crack of unease in her tone.

Outside, in the streets below, a young boy named Fred—just one of many gathered to watch the broadcast—felt a sudden shiver race down his spine. He didn’t know why, but something about the singer’s words, about the hero who died and came back smiling, left a cold, wrong feeling lodged deep in his chest.

—

[Explaining to the newcomer the identities of the other two present at the negotiating table, Felt leads a scantily clad woman inside–she is called…  

The opposing bidder presented twenty holy coins on the dot, but Subaru’s cell-phone still solely snatched victory away from her. 

After a short little Victory pose, Subaru apologized for inconveniencing his opponent, but she seemingly took the loss in stride.  

???: By the way, what do you intend to do with that insignia? 

Subaru: Oh, I’m going to find its owner and return it to her.]

—

Noble 1: “Return it? To its owner? Saints preserve us—does he not grasp what kind of den he’s standing in?”

Noble 2: “A thief’s market, and he’s preaching honesty. I almost admire the nerve.”

Noble 3: “No, it’s not nerve, it’s idiocy. He’s either blessed by fortune or begging to be stabbed.”

Noble 4: *sighs, swirling his drink* “Naïve sincerity. That’s what they’ll call it later, when the corpses are cleared away.”

Across the hall, polite laughter covered thinly veiled dread; none of them could tell if the boy’s purity was bravery or the world’s most suicidal kind of faith.

—

Otto: “I knew you were an idiot, but you idiot!”

He lunged forward, grabbing Subaru by the shoulders, shaking him so hard that Beatrice’s little pigtails bounced in outrage.

Otto: “Are you trying to get yourself killed?! You don’t just tell a thief you’re going to return their stolen goods! What are you, blessed by stupidity?!”

Subaru blinked, halfway between guilt and dazed confusion, while the rest of the camp could only stare.

Garfiel muttered under his breath, “Boss, yer guts are gonna getcha gutted one of these days,” while Beatrice crossed her arms, cheeks puffed out, torn between pride and panic.

Beatrice: “He’s just too honest, in fact! But also a complete fool, I suppose!”

Emilia, quiet but pale, whispered, “Subaru… please don’t do anything reckless.”

And Otto groaned, letting go only when the boy finally stopped looking like he might actually try to explain himself again.

Otto: “Naïve sincerity. It’ll be the death of you one day, Natsuki-san. Literally.”

—

The emperor’s voice cut through the quiet chamber like a blade.

Vincent: “You fool! Are you so desperate for death that you must summon it yourself?”

He rose from his seat, eyes narrowing on the image before him. The boy—that boy—spoke without guile, as if bartering with fate itself.

Vincent’s tone dropped, the weight of something almost like concern threading through the fury.

Vincent: “Your idealism blinds you. Even in this reflection, you bare your throat to wolves. Have you learned nothing?”

Flop, standing a cautious step behind him, gave a nervous laugh.

Flop: “H-husband-kun sure knows how to turn every situation into a gamble, doesn’t he, Your Majesty?”

Medium, louder and far less composed, threw up her hands.

Medium: “Husband-kun, are ya crazy?! You’re gonna get yourself chopped in half talkin’ like that!”

Her voice echoed through the chamber before Vincent silenced them both with a glance.

Beneath the emperor’s anger, something colder flickered—unwilling fascination, the kind a man felt when staring at a disaster he couldn’t look away from.

Vincent: “So, you tempt death again. Then show me, Natsuki Subaru… whether your miracles are courage or curse.”

—

The Pleiades Battalion fell into chaos— soldiers shouting, paling, as every one of them recognized the boy who had once led them through war was now practically inviting his own death.

In the Anastasia Camp, disbelief rippled through the air. Even the shrewd merchant herself went quiet, her usual calculating calm breaking under a sharp, incredulous laugh that couldn’t mask the unease behind it.

The Crusch Camp stiffened as if struck. Wilhelm’s knuckles whitened on his sword hilt, Ferris buried his face in his hands, and Crusch herself muttered something about bravery turning to madness.

The Felt Camp exploded into shouting—Felt slamming a hand against the table, Rachins cursing under his breath, and Old Man Rom growling that if the brat lived through this, he’d wring his neck for scaring them like that.

And everywhere else, from knights to nobles to every soul who had ever fought beside, bet on, or merely admired Natsuki Subaru, the same thought pulsed in their chests like shared panic:

“He’s going to get himself killed!”

—

[???: So, you're with them, then. 

Tackling Subaru, Felt pushed him out of the way of a signature Gustekan blade. 

A brawl between the assassin and Rom begins, and though having the faith of Felt placed upon him, Rom ends up losing an arm to the killer, slashed the same way it was last time.  

Charging once again, Rom attempted to overwhelm the woman, only for a shattered glass cup to be stabbed into his throat. 

???: …thank you for the milk.]

—

Felt froze.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t understand what she was seeing—just motion, shouting, the flash of steel. Then it sank in.

Her voice left her. The world went hollow.

On-screen, she saw herself shove the idiot boy out of the way, saw Rom charge that monster like he was still young, saw the glass cup glint and—

Felt: “…no. No, no, no—”

She was on her feet before she knew it, breath ragged, trembling hands clutching at her hair once more.

Felt: “That’s not real. That’s not real. You didn’t—You wouldn’t—”

Her eyes darted to the old man beside her—alive, watching, his hand twitching just slightly on the table.

Felt: “You stupid old man! What the hell were you thinking?! That’s suicide!”

Rom said nothing. His jaw clenched. The lines on his face looked deeper than before.

Rachins muttered something under his breath. Gaston and Camberly didn’t even try to speak.

Felt turned back to the image, eyes wet but blazing.

Felt: “If that really happened… if that witch-bitch killed you—”

Her voice broke into a snarl.

Felt: “I’ll hunt her down myself.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air out of the room.

Even Rom couldn’t meet her eyes.

—

[Enraged, Felt apologised to Subaru, before drawing her own blade and dashing at a superhuman speed. 

???: Divine protection of wind…How wonderful. I can see you are loved by this world. I envy you! 

A vertical slash, and just like that, Felt too hath fallen.  

Taunting Subaru as got up and failed to land a hit on her, the assassin then opinionated how his only redeeming trait was his determination.]

—

Abel leaned back with restrained fury, the dark of his eyes narrowing. “You fool, stop this now,” he thought — disgusted, helpless, and yet unable to look away. For all his hatred of weakness, there was something worse than frailty: reckless virtue in a world that devoured saints.

In the Pleiades Battalion, the clatter of armor ceased. Gustav’s men found their hands stilling mid-task. Even their commander — ever the immovable wall — stood frozen, throat tight. Determination had always been the boy’s greatest weapon, the light they admired most. And yet, watching it now, it felt like the cruelest curse of all.

Within the Anastasia Camp, panic and disbelief reigned. Julius’s composure shattered as he shouted for his friend to run, voice breaking with the kind of fear knights never show. Anastasia sat still, her scarf twisting nervously, eyes wide with something she’d never admit — helpless dread.

The Crusch Camp watched in horror. Crusch herself tried to rise despite the pain that kept her bound to the chair, one hand trembling on the armrest. “Run, Subaru-dono,” Wilhelm muttered hoarsely beside her, despair cutting through his usually calm tone. They all knew it was futile, yet none could look away.

Back in the Felt Camp, panic cracked into grief. The three musketeers had gone pale, the young leader’s jaw trembling as she stared at her mirrored self rushing toward death. Rage, sorrow, disbelief — they all blurred together. Even Rom couldn’t find words.

And among the Emilia Camp, the air was thick with fear. Emilia’s trembling hand reached for the screen as if she could pull him back. Beatrice clung to Subaru’s sleeve in silence. Otto couldn’t breathe. No one dared speak the thought they all shared — that his courage would kill him.

Far away, in the jungles where the Shudrak had once lived and fought, the tribe watched in reverent quiet. Warriors who had lived and died by the spear murmured approval through clenched jaws. To stand, to fight, to fall with resolve — that was honor. Whether real or illusion, the boy’s death would be remembered as one worthy of their respect.

—

[Recalling his “visions”, Subaru predicted the blade’s trajectory and dogged, countering with a kick of his own.]

—

Garfiel: “Yeah boss!!!”

—

Mimi: “Go Mini-Boss!”

—

Medium: “Yeah! Get’r”

—

Fred: “Come on!!”

—

Felt: “Yeah!”

—

Petra: “Yes!”

—

Vague: “Haha…”

—

[???: Ah…I certainly felt that one. 

Subaru’s valiant effort did not matter, his belly was opened all the same, and he joined the other two in falling to the ground.]

—

Abel did not speak. The sight of the boy’s body, crumpled and bleeding out on the floor, was too final. 

—

In the Pleiades Battalion, no one moved. Gustav’s hands curled into fists, nails biting through leather hard skin. 

—

The Anastasia Camp went pale. Julius’s throat worked, but no sound came out. Anastasia’s scarf hung limp, its usual flutter stilled in disbelief. 

—

Within the Crusch Camp, horror sat beside grief. Crusch’s trembling hand reached toward the screen, as if willpower alone could undo what she saw. Wilhelm’s eyes glistened with unspoken fury and sorrow.

—

In the Felt Camp, shock shattered the air. Felt’s breath hitched, her knuckles white against the table. Ton and Chin whispered her name; Kan stared blankly ahead. Rom didn’t speak — he only lowered his head, as though bowing to something he couldn’t bear to watch again.

—

The Emilia Camp broke in quiet, suffocating fear. Emilia’s trembling voice failed before it even formed a cry. Beatrice pressed against Subaru’s motionless shoulder, whispering his name over and over. Garfiel’s snarl died in his throat. Otto turned away, face in his hands, as the realization set in — he was gone. Yet, for Roswaal, this was confirmation.

—

In the city of Garkla, the 4 Shudrak lowered their heads. They understood the weight of a fall, the honor of a final stand. Their chief, Taritta, whispered a prayer — not of grief, but respect. “He fought,” she murmured, voice low. “Let him be remembered.”

—

In Gusteko, the Holy King sat frozen on his throne, eyes wide with blasphemous dread. “A man defying death,” he breathed, “what curse walks my earth?” Nearby, Archbishop Tiriena bowed her head, hands clasped tightly. “Od preserve us,” she whispered, voice cracking as she stepped toward the king to speak.

—

In the highest tower, Prince Vague leaned forward with a hollow laugh. “So ends his story,” he murmured sarcastically, but his fingers twitched — too human. For a man who claimed apathy, the silence after the fall was so loud.

—

Among the winds, Zarestia went still. The air around her thinned, holding its breath. “So that’s the end…” she said, more curious than mournful. “It always ends with murder.”

—

Halibel closed his eyes, shoulders tense. “Guess this runs’ over,” he muttered, but the line between irritation and grief was thin.

—

The Divine Generals each froze where they stood. Yorna covered her mouth with a trembling hand, perfume trembling in the air. Tanza looked down, her lip caught between her teeth. Even Olbart, the old shinobi, exhaled slowly, for once without mockery.

—

In Pristella, Liliana’s too small voice rang out with despair.

Liliana: “W-why…T-this i-is s-so so w-wrong…!”

—

And across the world — in mansions, temples, markets, and taverns — the air itself seemed to hold its breath. From the four nobles in their silken halls to beggars watching from cracked windows, all who saw the boy’s body on the ground felt the same creeping truth settle deep within them.

He had fallen.

And something in the world had changed forever.

No one expected the inner dialogue that would soon follow, showing a glimpse into the mind of a dying boy.

—

[Subaru: It hurts…It hurts…It hurts…It hurts…It hurts…]

—

Emilia: “W-wh-wha!?

Annerose: “Hk-!”

Garfiel: “B-Boss?!”

—

Medium: “W-what?!”

Flop: “Why does husband-kun have to suffer?! He’s already dying!!!”

—

Julius: “No…”

—

Reinhard: “Subaru…”

— 

Heinkel: “Fuck…”

—

[???: Does it hurt? Are you suffering? In pain? Sad? Do you want to die?]

—

Todd: “How unnecessary…”

—

Felt: “That sadistic bitch!!! How dare she say that to big bro!?”

Ezzo: “It’s so wrong…”

—

Capella: “Hahahaha!!! As expected of my pet and that meatbag!”

—

Vague: “Gross.”

—

Tiriena: “Oh my…”

Holy king: “Indeed…”

—

[Subaru: Die? Am I dead? Am I alive? When will I die? When will I die? 

???: Slowly, slowly, slowly… 

Subaru: I’m scared…I'm scared…I'm scared! 

The monster continued to whisper in the young boy’s direction, as his suffering and fear and pain continued to mount, only for– 

Subaru: Oh…I’m dead.]

—

Vincent Vollachia: “So this was the sound of a dying mind. A ruler should never hear this.”

—

In the Pleiades Battalion no one spoke. The usually steady rhythm of disciplined soldiers broke into silence.

Idra: “Is this why Schwartz forbade us from killing? Because he knows what dying is like… l-li-like t-that…?”

—

In the Anastasia Camp, Julius’s throat tightened. Anastasia’s scarf fluttered weakly in the still air. Mimi’s ears were flat, eyes wide and wet. Ricardo stared at the floor, jaw trembling. 

Ricardo: “Is this what it sounds like? All those I’ve killed—did they think like this before the end?”

—

In the Crusch Camp, Crusch’s knuckles went white on the armrest. Wilhelm’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes were hollow. 

Wilhelm: “Is this really what it sounds like? All those I cut down—did they sound like this too?”

Felix: “No…Subaru-kyun…*Sniff*.”

—

In the Felt Camp, Rom lowered his head. Felt’s fists pressed against her mouth, fighting not to sob. The echo of Subaru’s broken thoughts clawed through her. 

Felt: “Damn bro, I never knew dying sounded so small…”

—

In Garkla city, Mizelda stared at the boy collapsing on the ground.

Mizelda: “He’d fought with heart, yet died like a child. If this was what death truly sounded like—“

No. She didn’t want to think about it.

—

The Holy King leaned back in his throne, the sound burrowing beneath his calm. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”

Bishop Tiriena’s rosary clicked faintly as she whispered, “Od, grant him peace.” But even prayer couldn’t silence the noise.

—

Prince Vague exhaled a humorless breath. 

Vague: “That voice… filth and fear all at once.”

The sound wouldn’t leave him.

—

The air around Zerestia shifted uneasily. “So noisy,” she muttered. “So human.”

—

Halibel: “Man… No man should have his fear dragged out like that.”

—

Yorna’s jeweled hand hovered before her lips. “How cruel… what kind of world makes a child sound like that?”

Glancing at her mistress, and then back at the screen, Tanza could do nothing.

Tanza: “Schwartz-sama…”

—

Groovy’s smirk faded from the his face. 

Groovy: “this is some really fucked up shit…”

Moguro: “Affirmative”

—

Madelyn stood frozen, her breath held as the boy’s voice cracked into panic. 

Madelyn: “This dragon doesn’t like this…”

—

Olbart: “Tch… kid didn’t deserve all’at,” he muttered.

—

Cecilus Segmunt — The Blue Lightning — tilted his head.

Cecilus: “…Boss’ fighting even now,” he whispered. “And losing.”

—

The Four Nobles, in their marble halls, did not speak or sip their wine.

Is that what death truly is…?

—

Todd: “Is it over…?”

Katya: “I-I’m not s-sure… b-but he d-didn’t a-actually die, r-right?”

Todd: “Suppos’ we’ll see.”

—

[–Styx Helix started playing– 

???: What’s the matter, boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Boy? You okay?

As he stood there, pale and in clear agony, only one thing could come out of his mouth to express the deep confusion threatened to consume him.  

Subaru: I have no idea what’s going on anymore……]

—

Across the kingdoms, no one breathed.

Those who had just watched him die now saw him stand again—whole, whispering that he no longer understood what was happening.

For the Emilia camp, disbelief hollowed into heartbreak. Every scream, every tear, every desperate plea had been for nothing, and yet—he was alive again.

Emilia: “Subaru… “

Roswaal: “Hmm…”

Clind: “…”

Sylphy: “What…?”

Beatrice: “Subaru…Betty wants an explanation… I suppose.”

They all glance towards the one who the desperate query was directed to.

Subaru glanced down to the spirit on his lap. But instead of answering, he squeezed her hand and looked towards the screen. 

Subaru: “Any moment now…”

—

For the Felt camp, shock and awe collided. The friend they’d just seen fall was moving again, alive, AGAIN! 

Felt: “What the fuck.”

Ezzo: “Agreed.”

Rom: “This is no good…”

Grimm: “I don’t like this…”

Carol: "Neither do I…”

—

Within the Crusch camp, the dignified stillness of the room broke under quiet horror. Crusch’s breath trembled, Wilhelm’s hand tightened on his sword. Even miracles should not repeat—not like this.

Felix vomited, there was no helping it, the greatest healer in the world could not handle the desecration of his friend — and what he considered sacred — to such a degree.

—

At Anastasia’s side, none could reconcile what they were learning with the boy they had come to trust. Julius’s lips parted but no words came, and even Anastasia’s scarf hung still, the air itself waiting for an explanation that would never come.

Eridna: “So it seems it’s true… Not long now before we get confirmation”

—

For Abel Vollachia, it was grim confirmation. So it was true. Beside him, Flop gripped Medium’s hand as she whispered, “Husband-kun’s alive.”

“Yeah,” Flop muttered, voice trembling. “How…?”

—

Still far from the city walls, Cecilus laughed quietly, an edge of unease twisting the sound. 

Cecilus: “That’s ma’ boss! Haha! And the stage is reset!”

Arakiya stood silent, a draft stirring faintly around her, her expression unreadable.

—

Back in Garkla’s halls, Olbart, just stepping into the chamber with Madelyn, Groovy, and Moguro, looked at the screen and muttered, 

Olbart: “Ohh, Scary, anit’e, hehe.”

In truth, the Shinobi was scared. No matter how he tried to avoid it, the truth of the boy he had once thought of killing was becoming impossible to ignore.

Kafma: “This is no joke Olbart! If this is all true, then there’s no saying what that monster has already done to our nation!”

Zkir: “I would plead with you to calm yourselves. Do not forget what Natsumi has done for us all. This knowledge should not be taken at face value.”

Pleading with them to calm down, while hiding his own deep seated disturbance, the newest member of the divine generals, and the first one to reply to the Emperor's summons, said so, receiving minimal reply.

Kafma: “Tch.”

—

Within Garkla, the Shudrak warriors stood motionless before the vision. To them, determination was sacred. If he returned from death itself, then was anything they had once thought about him, about his status as a fellow warrior, true?

Holly: “Agh! My brain hurts!”

Kuna: “I can’t blame you. If you think about it, we were only ever taught how to grieve the fallen, but this…”

—

The Pleiades Battalion had forgotten their duties entirely. Work, orders, everything faded as they stared at the impossible image. They had all fought beside him, trusted his lead, but to see him rise AGAIN—alive after dying—was beyond understanding. Is this what their commander had been all along?

—

In the frozen north, the Holy King leaned forward in disbelief. “By Od’s hand… again!?” His conviction wavered. Nearby, Tiriena’s fingers tightened around her heart. “A miracle,” she breathed, “or a monster pretending to be human.”

—

And in the lonely tower where the mad prince sat bound by his own strength, Vague tilted his head with cold amusement. “So he gets back up. Fine,” he murmured. “Then maybe this world’s still got something worth watching.”

—

Kadomon: “No, no, no no no nononono…!”

Plum: “Hah?! W-what’s wrong daddy???”

Plum, who had not been allowed to watch the violent scene unfold, used her newfound freedom, courtesy of her mother, to immediately address her concern for her panicked father.

Kadomon: “I-if this means what we are all thinking it means… then…!”

Setting a hand on his shoulder, Raksha could only agree.

Raksha: “I know honey, but we need to stay calm, people are staring.”

Kadomon: “Y-yeah, sorry… It’s just, if this really happened, then I…… I never was of any help now, was I?”

—

Kiritaka: “Ohhh shit!”

Liliana: “Don’t worry everyone! Kiritaka-san! I’m sure there's a perfectly good explanation for Natsuki-san’s situation…!”

Yet at this point, not even the words of the beloved singer could calm the shaken hearts of the citizens.”

—

Doltero broke it first with a scoff. “What a disgusting way to die… like a pig in the dirt.” His tone was cruel on the surface, but the faint shake in his hand betrayed something softer beneath the sneer. “Still… poor bastard squealed all the same.”

Toto grimaced, setting her drink down. “Disgusting or not, I can’t say I’d face it half as long.”

Manfred gave no words at all—only a quiet, heavy sigh that lingered longer than either of them liked.

—

And somewhere beneath the awe, dread, and wonder, one shared truth began to settle across the world—

He really does come back.

—

[Kadomon: Are you alright, boy? Here, forget about the money. Just take these.  

Noticing the Elf girl passing through the street, the boy scrambled to his feet calling out– 

The screen flickered, switching to the moment both of them were at that highpoint, a moment that felt distant in the face of the constant shock and confusion of the last few minutes. 

Still with the foreign music playing over the scene, the girl spoke. 

???: I’m…Satella.]

—

World: “WHAT?!”

—

Chapter Text

—

Emilia: “W-why would I say that?!

Otto: “OUR REPUTATION!!!!”

Garfiel: “Hey Princess… Thats’ not good…”

Meili: “Ohh~ Scaaary~”

Subaru: “…”

Ferderica: “Emilia-sama…you can’t say that… what will people think….”

Emilia: “I-I- w-whould n-ne-never!!”

Beatrice: “THEN WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT, IN FACT?!”

At this point, the little spirit was at her wits-end. She had no patience left for the foolish half-elf before her that borrowed the name of the witch of fucking envy.

Emilia: “I-I…!”

As the half-elf struggled to reconcile the version on screen with herself right now, and this Od-awful decision she had apparently made, the only one with an answer stepped in to explain.

Subaru: “She wanted to spare me.”

Everyone: “Hah…?”

Ram: “Barusu, you're going to need to explain more than that, because we all want to spare you, be more specific, or die.”

“For once, her threat might come true”, the boy thought.

Subaru: “She — the Emilia on screen, that is — wanted to drive me away before I got entangled in her mess, and in a split second decision, decided to give me a name that would force me away and spare me the trouble. So don’t misunderstand.”

Garfiel: “I think I get it…”

Roswaal: “Maaakes Sense~”

Meili: “Still…”

Petra: “I get it, Subaru-sama can be really gullible.”

Subaru: “Not kind?”

Sylphy: “That too.”

Emilia: “Ohh, o-ok, that sounds like something I would do, still, I’m sorry for lying…”

Otto: “IT IS?!”

Subaru: “Ignore him.” He said. “I won’t say it's fine, since it's about to really screw me over…” he thought.

—

Able: “Is the half-elf candidate truly the witch? No, that would only complicate things. I don’t believe this magic wants to hide anything. If she is the witch, the device shall explain it all in time.”

Jamal: “This is all sorts of fucked up…”

Flop: “Yeah…”

—

Mizelda: “I have heard of this “witch”, tell me friends, do you think this has a truth to it?”

Holly: “I don’t know!!! I just want to go eat somethin’ and forget abou’ all this mess!!!”

Kuna: “Yeah…”

—

Serena: “Now this is a development.”

—

Zkir: “To think that lovely lady would refer to herself as a witch, what a tragedy.”

Madelyn: “More like friggin’ crazy! Does she want to die?!.”

Olbart: “Oioi! This is getting ridiculous! Youngin’ these days have no tact in the words they spew these days!”

Kafma: “You don’t believe she might truly be the witch we tell our children about as a scare tactic, do you?”

Moguro: “Negative, the witch is sealed, she cannot be this half-elf who does not excrete miasma.”

Groovy: “Well thank fucking Od!”

Madelyn: “This dragon still thinks this brats’ crazy.”

—

Miklotov:“…”

Bordeaux: “I knew it! I always said she was the witch incarnate and now she admits it!”

Miklotov: “Calm yourself old friend, we cannot know what this means, it might be simple childish spewing.”

Bordeaux: “How could you say that after everything?! First the boy returns from the dead, with a power that can only be cursed, and then the witch reveals herself! What else could this magic be warning us about?! It’s an omen I tell you!”

Miklotov: “We shall see…”

—

Across taverns, temples, and torch-lit streets, the world erupted into murmurs.

In a dim bar at the edge of the capital, a drunken knight slammed his mug down.

Knight 1: “Did she just say it? That name?”

Knight 2: “You deaf? She said it clear as daylight. By the Dragon, she’s cursed.”

Their table went silent after that—none daring to repeat it.

—

In a family home, a mother grabbed her child’s wrist before he could imitate the words.

Child: “Mama, who’s—”

Mother: “Don’t! Don’t say it! We don’t speak that name. Ever.”

She pressed him close, whispering words of comfort under her breath.

—

Outside a Gusteken church, a priest stumbled mid-sermon, dropping his holy text.

Priest: “The witch’s name, spoken aloud… And by the half-elf no less…”

—

Villager: “Does this mean the witch lives?”

Another: “Or that the world’s ending?”

—

A merchant caravan halted on the road between cities.

Merchant 1: “So the half-elf’s the witch now? Figures—silver hair, amethyst eyes…”

Merchant 2: “Shut it, you idiot! Do you want her to curse you or somethin’?”

Merchant 1: “N-no!… Of course not…”

—

In a military outpost near the border, a squad of knights whispered over their meal.

Soldier 1: “If she really said that, the people will call for her head.”

Soldier 2: “Yeah, but did you see the boy? He might stand in your way to protect his witch.”

Soldier 1: “That weakling, please?! We’re knights!”

Soldier 2: “Yeah, ha!”

—

And far from the cities, in a mountain village that had long burned candles for protection from the unseen, an old man muttered into the fire.

Old Man: “Haven’t heard that name said out loud by anyone but my parents when they told me the witch’s story so many years ago… ”

—

From the highest noble towers to the lowest slums, the same cold truth spread along with fear — A forbidden name had been spoken aloud, and no one knew what it meant, not for the half-elf, nor the boy who died.

—

[Subaru: Wait! Satella!  

Apologizing, the boy awaited the response of Satella, the half-elf who, until that point, had been the only person who had shown him kindness throughout his rocky first day in this world.]

—

Emilia: “No, please, don’t…!”

—

[Only… 

Satella: What are you thinking? I don’t know who you are, but don’t call me by the name of the Witch of Envy! What are you thinking?!  

Subaru: …Huh?]

—

Emilia: “Please don’t… just don’t hurt him!”

—

[… 

Satella?: I’ll ask one more time. Why did you call me by the name of the Witch of Envy? 

Subaru: Because you told me to.]

—

Kiritaka: “I don’t know what’s happening anymore…”

Liliana: “She did tell him to call her that… Right everyone?!”

—

Fred: “Yeah!”

—

Lusbel: “Mm hmm!”

—

[By this point, a crowd had gathered around the one who had invoked the witch’s name, and those who composed it agreed that, even if addressing a half-elf, calling one straight up “Satella” was going too far.]

—

The people who saw themselves on screen could only be confused and ashamed as they saw themselves condemning the boy who did nothing wrong — who simply fell into the pit opened up by naïveté.

—

[???: If you have nothing to say, I’m leaving. I have things to do. 

A little girl takes advantage of her chance, and swipes ‘Satella’s insignia off her before making her escape.]

—

Felt: “NO! Other me! Don’t be so stupid! You're gonna get big bro in trouble!”

Ezzo: “OUR REPUTATION!!!!”

Rom: “Nothing to be done bout’ it now…”

—

Able: “Tch.”

—

Todd: “Wow, to think that girl who was so eager to kill me was able to show that boy such a face.”

Katya: “D-Did she r-really try t-to k-kill you?”

Todd: “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not that easy ta’ kill.”

— 

Bordeaux: “This is just getting absurd, she was the one to demand he call her by that cursed name.”

Miklotov: “Showing some pity for the boy now?

Bordeaux: “Tch, nonsense.”

—

Zarestia: “Why mention that monster, does she want to die? Maybe I should kill her?”

“…”

Zarestia: “Truly a pitiful child.”

—

[???: Were you stalling me? Are you working with her?! 

Subaru: N-No!  

The race for the insignia began anew, and Subaru chased after both the victim and perpetrator of the crime. 

Subaru: Would someone please be a little nicer to me? Why was I even…summoned to this world?]

—

Rom: “We all wanna know that!”

Felt: “Shit bro, if anyone deserves to be treated well its ya’.”

Ezzo: “This is getting hard to watch…”

Rachins: “Oh really?! Ya’ didn’t feel that after ya’ watched him get gutted?!”

— 

[Camberley: What are you babbling about? 

Rachins: If you don’t wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got!  

Subaru: Would you stop it already?! No one is this damn persistent!]

—

Goston: “Not again…”

Camberly: “Why us?!”

Rachins: “It’s no good, you can’t talk to muggers like that…!”

—

[Rachins: You think you can mouth off to us? 

Subaru: You’re in my way! I have somewhere I need to go!..HUH??]

—

Rachins: “…”

Rachins: “No…”

Rachins: “Please no…”

—

Beatrice: “Subaru…!”

Garfiel: “Boss!”

Petra: “NO!”

Meili: “I’ll kill them…”

Otto: “I’ll help.”

Subaru slowly got up and walked toward Otto, slapped him upside the head, and strutted toward his pseudo daughter, patted her on the head and said:

Subaru: “Thanks, but there is no need, let's stay off the topic of murder, alright?”

Although everyone else saw the girl's words as a simple threat reflecting all their own desires, Subaru saw it as her abuse shining through. He had worked too hard to let her talk like this now, especially not for him. He much preferred the mean joking girl to the one who resorted to murder like it was a habit.

Otto: “W-what was that for Natsuki-san?!”

Meili: “Tch…”

Subaru: "That's better.”

Sitting back down, this time next to the girl, Beatrice rejoined them, holding her contractor's hand for comfort, all the while vowing to tear the time of the skin of that mugger.

—

Todd: “Again?”

Katya: “S-Seems so.”

—

Felt: “Rachins!!!”

Rachins: “…!”

Felt: “Shut it!!! If I thought this shit was real, it would be your head on a pike right’now!”

Rachins’s own planned words—sarcastic, defensive—swam in his mind as a pathetic attempt to overlook what he had done and the horror that followed. But in true Felt fashion, she would not so easily forgive her servant. Pity was foreign to her; she vowed that, should this viewing be proven true, she would avenge her bro by killing the coward before her.

Rachins could only despair, realizing that all his work to join the Felt Camp, to become someone better, would vanish in an instant because of an act he couldn’t remember—and yet knew, deep down, was undoubtedly his fault.

Rachins: “I can’t get that sound out of my head…”

—

Tiriena: “Oh my?!”

Holy king: “What now?! Will he simply return again?! Those thugs know nothing of what they have unleashed!”

Tiriena: “It is quite the issue, to kill someone unkillable, I can only hope the boy does not snap, as rightful as it would be after all this pain.”

Holy king: “Well, Archbishop, although I understand your sentiment, we should not be trying to placate this monster, we should be hoping he dies for good.”

Tiriena: “So uncouth sire, should the boy die now, he would be no monster, now would he?”

Holy king: “Do not jest with me women! If you think I would feel pity for this boy when I did not even for my son and his madness, then it is you who are mad!”

Tiriena: “Oh course, your holiness.”

Thinking back to the boy — the prince — she used to know, Tiriena could do nothing but frown at her sovereign's cruelty, however logical. 

—

Tanza: “Those pieces of trash, I shall make sure they pay for hurting Schwartz-sama.”

Yorna: “Me as well my Tanza. Should we ever meet, there will be retribution.”

—

Able: “How could you act so foolishly Natsuki Subaru? You knew what would happen yet you followed the half-elf regardless? I knew you were foolish, I knew you were kind, but to run your mouth at those so clearly at an advantage, even the emperor is not so prideful.”

…

Jamal: “Your highness, the generals are here.”

Able: “Set up a seating arrangement with me, and call them forth.”

Jamal: ”Yes sire.”

Able: “And call Barstetz.”

Jamal: “At once.”

Able: “As the peak of the Sword Wolf Empire, I am going to need to keep an eye on everyone of relevance to keep my nation's stability. Should I fail to quell the panic of those in power, I would have wasted the victory won for me by Natsuki Subaru’s foolish forced sacrifice. It shall not come to pass.”

Medium: “I want to celebrate the guests, but… After all of this I just want to give Husband-kun a hug…”

Flop: “Me as well sister, me as well…”

Taritta: “…”

—

Zarestia: “Tch. Disgusting human, to kill with such hesitation, you have no right to take part in my work, I shall kill you when we meet.”

—

Unbeknownst—yet somehow beknownst—to him, Rachins could feel it. Unlike the Bowel Hunter, who was dead and beyond the reach of those who hated her, or the royal candidate who had just branded herself the Witch, an enemy of the world, he could feel the petty, personal rage burning at his back.

Rachins: “…”

—

[Losing the strength of his legs, Natsuki Subaru fell from being stabbed in the back.  

The trio began to argue among themselves, and the pain that should be exempt from a mere vision presented itself to Subaru. 

When he looked up, however– 

Subaru: –Huh? But Old Man Rom ate those…How? C-Could…this be…]

—

Toto: “Wait…! Is this where he realises it? Now? While bleeding out?!”

Manfred: “It seems that only death could make the boy stop and think.”

—

Hiain: “Bro… Not again!”

Idra: “Shit!”

Waitz: “I’ll kill em’.”

Gustav: “It’s dawning on him…”

—

Mizelda: “Again with this violent sad death, this is not what death should look like! For our friend it should be honorable! not… this…”

Holly: “It's so wrong!”

Utakata: “Uuu hates this! She hates hates hates hates hates it!”

Kuna: “I know. I’m sorry you have to see this.”

Utakata: “Uu’s seen death, but Uuu doesn’t like this death.”

Heartbroken by the girl before her, the Shudrak could only mutter a confirmation.

Kuna: “I know…”

—

[The Call of the Witch sounded again 

The light in the eyes of Natsuki Subaru that signaled life disappeared…and death overtook him.]

—

Felix: “No… why Subaru-kyun… Why did they have to hurt nya? … Why’d nya have to be so reckless?”

Crusch could only hold her loyal knight's hand as he wept for his foolish friend, trying her best to emulate her past self and not cry.

Wilhelm: “I know the one who killed you Subaru-dono, and I know the one who will avenge you.”

So too thought the Sword Demon, who used this logic to hold himself in place so as to not commit murder in the name of the one he saw as a grandson — no matter how righteous.

On the end of the garden stood a figure, watching them grieve, he wished to speak with them at once, yet knew it was not the time. 

—

[The screen went black. 

… 

Kadomon: Well, boy? You want this Apple? (No appa’s in this house!) 

Subaru: Hey, mister…How many times have you seen me now?]

—

Todd: “The dreadful question.”

—

Vague: “This is crazy…! Can’t wait to see how this kid handles the truth.”

—

Liliana: “See, it's all gonna be explained, and probably in the most calm way…! Seriously everyone, it's gonna be ok, STAY CALM EVERYONE!”

Kiritaka had no choice at this point but to pull Liliana away as she squeaked, since she was no longer calming the city, but driving it to panic.

Kiritaka: “I-I must apologize, b-but this broadcast will end early, goodbye.”

“—Click—”

—

[Kadomon: What do you mean? I’ve never seen you before now. Well? You want the apple or not? (NO APPAS!)  

Subaru: Sorry, but I’m broke beyond compare!]

—

Otto: “…”

Otto recognized this absurd, over energetic mask. It was the one his friend wore back at the sanctuary, the one he had to punch off his friend’s face after learning about the info his friend should not have had, the face his friend was wearing now.

Otto: “Oh no.”

For Otto, who had seen Subaru in despair, this was the nail in the coffin.

Otto: “Subaru…”

looking over to his friend that he was so close to, with the wish to talk, to scream, to beg for answers, he quickly shut his mouth when he saw the look directed at him. It was Subaru, his friend, his eyes were dead. He slowly shook his head, and put a finger up to his mouth, making sure all of his Camp members could see. It was a simple message: “Be quiet, say nothing, I understand, I’m sorry.”

—

Kadomon: “I-I Remember this!”

After the apple salesman shouted this terrible truth, all the eyes of his fellow salesmen and women who were manning their stands snapped towards him. Up to this point, most of them had written this viewing off as false. After all, plum had sated so. Yet now, Plum's father, a man known and loved, had stated otherwise. 

Pear salesman: “Are you sure Kadomon-san?!”

Glassware saleswoman: “T-that can’t be, right Kadomon-san?!”

Plum: “Do you mean it daddy?!”

Kadomon: “Yeah! I remember, I remember it all! The kid had acted so weird that I got worried, but then he was’ll sunshin an’ rainbows, ya know, like that?!”

Raksha: “B-but if that's true… oh no…”

Pear salesman: “Shit!”

The bald middle aged pear-salesman shouted a stall across from Kadomon. 

Glassware saleswoman: “Oh my…”

Muttered the old and stalky Glassware saleswoman a stall over. 

Kadomon: “And I didn’t even notice…”

Raksha: “It’s not your fault, you never could have known…”

Glassware saleswoman: “Yes Kadomon-san, we were all there, yet none of us could have known. All we can do is wish that boy well”

Plum: “Yeah…”

After calming down, the town market became abuzz with interest, which was quickly interrupted by a collective wish to know what would happen next in the world that was remembered. 

—

Miklotov: “What kind of reaction is this?!”

Bordeaux: “The kind of a monster! How can this boy wear such a smile?! He must have realized the potential of his ability! Od save us!”

Bordeaux lamented as he covered his face with his hand. To him, this was truly a bad sign. 

Miklotov: “I want to agree, after all, such a reaction does not bode well for this world. And yet, if he truly has had the ability to traverse time since the beginning, then why had the boy not erased his humiliation?”

That was a question on the mind of many: What was the reason the boy had not undone his worst moment? They had no idea he had considered it, only to find his opportunity in the witch’s cult. 

“T-this isn’t what I wanted…!”

Bordeaux: “I do not know, but to me, there is no explanation that absolves him, none at all…”

As they waited for the message they sent to arrive at the Astrea manor, they could only sit and cower in front of the being before them. 

— 

[Kadomon: Get the hell outta here!  

Taking inventory and assessing his lack of injuries while sitting in a shaded area on a step, Natsuki Subaru was forced to acknowledge. 

Subaru: Well, with this much circumstantial evidence, there’s not denying it. It’s kinda hard to believe, but this has to be…A time leap. And each time, I return to my initial state.  

Subaru: I’ll call it… 

Subaru:  “Return by Death”.]

—

Subaru: “This is it………………………… Heh?”

As Subaru waited for death to come—for her to come—he did a few meaningless yet notable things. He let go of Beatrice’s hand, not wanting her to feel his life leave him, nor let himself feel hers from her. He held his breath; in the time stop, he always dreaded the suffocating stillness, the inability to even try and breathe. It had become an unspoken rule: if he was still of sound mind—and hopefully body—he would fill his lungs before she arrived.

And most importantly, he closed his eyes, preparing to shut out the horror sight could bring.

And so he waited.

One second. Two. Three. Four. Fi— hk…!

Emilia: “Subaru, please look at me.”

Subaru: “W-what?”

She had walked up to him in those four and a half seconds, kneeling before him.

When he slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were his hands—moving—over his spirit’s lap. They were moving! And that voice…!

Unbeknownst to him, his Camp had gone silent. Shock had stolen their breath, leaving only their leader to act. Emilia, who realized in that instant that the one needing comfort wasn’t her, nor her allies who looked broken and hollow, but the boy she loved more than anyone—even if she still didn’t know how to say it.

(For readers: Most reactions are usually from Arcs 4–5, but this is post arc 9 Emilia—she’s ready to prove all you Emilia haters wrong.)

Subaru looked up, met her eyes, then past her—and whispered, with all the wonder of two worlds,

Subaru: “You’re alive…”

Confusion erupted. Two thin tracks of tears ran down his face. He had never cried like this before. His crying had always been ugly, raw, carved out by pain and loss. But this—this was pure joy, masking even purer relief.

He stood up, ignoring the spirit that tumbled from his lap.

Subaru: “You’re alive!”

Otto: “Yeah! Yeah, we’re alive, Natsuki-san! Could you please calm down and explain what you’re talking about? We’ve got a lot to discuss, so—”

Without a thought, Subaru leapt forward and hugged him, knocking both of them to the floor.

Otto: “W-wh-what the hell, Natsuki-san?!”

But Subaru didn’t answer. He just sobbed into Otto’s shoulder—unlucky Otto, caught in the flood of emotions his friend had been holding back.

Though chaos buzzed around them, no one dared to interrupt. For several long minutes, the world itself seemed to quiet, the viewing still playing above their bowed heads as Subaru cried for the life that hadn’t been lost this time.

—

Back over in the Crusch Camp, Felix wanted to vomit. He knew he already had, but now he felt stupid for not saving it for when it really mattered — for right now.

Felix: “O-Old Will, a-are n-nya also h-hearing this…?!”

Wilhelm: “Yes…”

Wilhelm wanted to hit something. Hard.

What was he supposed to say to that?! Return by Death? Was it a sick joke? A crueler jest than any he’d ever heard? He wanted to call it a ruse, laugh it off, maybe even visit the boy later and laugh with him. But then he remembered the words he’d once told Felix: “Those are the eyes of one who has been at death’s door, many times.”

And at that, he could only slump.

Wilhelm: “Yes…”

Felix: “T-then w-why are nya just sitting there!? We need to—!”

At that call for action, Wilhelm snapped.

Wilhelm: “Do what? Tell me! What are we to do after learning this?! Go find him and condemn him like the world surely will?! Or should we protect him—spare him any more of those deaths he’s surely lived through?! Tell me?!”

He shouted and shouted, the confusion bursting from him at last, rage rising only to mask his helplessness.

Felix: “I-I…”

Crusch: “STOP.”

Crusch: “I know how you feel. I know you care for him. But you mustn’t take out your anger on Ferris. We must remain calm.”

In that moment, the figure mentioned last stepped forward, deciding it was the perfect time.

Russell: “Hello, Miss Crusch. Hello, Sword Demon-sama. Hello, Blue.”

Russell: “I believe we should talk.”

—

Heinkel: “He actually named it?! O’course, he fuckin’ named it!!”

Schult: “…!”

Heinkel: “That monster really is a freak!!!”

Schult: “I-is it true, Heinkel-sama…what Subaru-sama said…?”

Heinkel: “O’course it’s true! Do you really think whatever’s showin’ us this is doin’ it for shits-and-giggles?! No — it’s real. More real than any nightmare!”

Heinkel hurled his bottle across the room. The crash and bang sounded like a verdict as he thought through what this meant — for him, for the world.

Heinkel: “The monster confirmed it. There’s no denyin’ it now. It’s as good as fact to anyone an’ everyone. I need to kill him. No — not me. It needs to be that other monster, one monster against another. Though would he even die? If someone fought the Sword Bastard on equal ground, the world might be destroyed. But if the Sword Bastard fought this monster, the world could be stuck in the same loop forever, never movin’ forward. That’d be worse. We’d never even fucking know!”

Heinkel’s face went hard. One thought cut through everything else: no one, no matter what, should ever try to kill that monster. If the thing could hold all of time and life hostage, then everything — the whole world, scratch that — all of time and space was now at its mercy.

—

Anastasia couldn’t move — not because her mind was blank, but because it was racing a mile a minute.

Halibel: “Woah there, Anabo, you alright?”

Anastasia: “Alright’?! Are ya truly askin’ if I’m alright?! How can anyone be alright after witnessin’ this?! It’s insane! The implications alone! W-what’s happened that we can’t remember?! I-I just…!”

Halibel: “Woah, woah, slow down, won’tcha’? Look, I get it, alright? I got it a while ago.”

At that, the entire Anastasia Camp snapped their heads toward him. Every one of them looked ready to hound him for keeping something so critical to himself—until it became clear why he hadn’t shared his epiphany. They’d only learned the truth minutes after he had, and Anastasia would’ve pouted had her viewing been interrupted.

Julius: “I can’t believe it… yet it makes sense. If Subaru truly has this power, then…”

Eridna: “Then it explains how he’s achieved so much of the impossible in so little time.”

Tivey: “B-but doesn’t that mean he’s died… a lot? Like, a lot, a lot?”

Mimi: “A lot a lot.”

Eridna: “Indeed. We’ll most likely never know the true number.”

After a pause, Ricardo broke in with his own question:

Ricardo: “You don’t think he might’ve…”

But was immediately stopped.

Julius: “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

The finest knight in Lugunica couldn’t bear to finish the thought. The idea that his friend—the one he quietly admired, who had just as quietly admired him back—had done something so horrific was unbearable.

Julius: “Ferris is going to lose it.”

Mimi: “Totally lose it.”

At that, Mimi’s brother broke in.

Hetaro: “Mimi, aren’t you worried? Out of anyone, I thought you’d be the most freaked out?”

Anastasia: “Ya’, if ya’ feelin’ down, just let me know, I’ll be happy to give ya’ a hug.”

Mimi: “Ha! Not at all! I think it’s cool!”

Tivey: “How can you say that, Mimi?!”

Mimi: “Well, not Mini-Boss’s power—but the Mini-Boss himself! Look! He’s still smilin’ even after everythin’! The fact we ever met him proves he kept fightin’! Even if he used that disgustin’ power like what we’re all thinkin’, it doesn’t change that the Mini-Boss is a hero!”

Her words silenced them all—not because of the possibility she’d voiced, but because of the truth they’d all forgotten: No matter how awful the power might be, the person who’d saved their lives at his own expense was no monster.

Eridna: “I’ll admit one thing—if anyone should hold such a power, it’s Natsuki Subaru.”

And that, was the only respectable conclusion.

Halibel: “Ha! That’s wha’ I thought!”

The mood lightened, just a little. The weight didn’t fade, but they sat back quietly, eyes fixed on the screen once more.

Yet all of them knew, this would change everything.

—

Felt: “Rein…”

Reinhard: “Yes, my lady?”

Felt: “Arrest them.”

Camberly: “W-what?!”

Gaston: “Felt-sama! But I thought you said it isn’t confirmed yet!?”

Felt: “Shut up!”

Rachins: “No, it’s true. It’s all true.”

To Rachins, it had been true from the moment he saw Natsuki Subaru hit the floor, and he would not run from that responsibility. Such was the fate of the first the hero had forgiven.

Camberly: “W-what?! What are you talking about?!”

Not wishing to interrupt their mistress on her warpath, the twins spoke through their divine protection of mindspeak.

Grassis: “So he admits it?”

Flam: “It seems so…”

Felt: “Shut it.” She snapped at Camberly and Gaston. “So you’ll go quietly, Rachins?”

Rachins: “Yes.”

Reinhard didn’t wait for further prompting. He knocked the three down swiftly and hauled them toward the Astrea holding cells, using his own upset to fuel himself.

Those left behind could only stare, imagining the disaster that now waited.

Ezzo: “Not only does Natsuki-sama have this power, but the whole world just saw him get killed by one of our own! We are so done!”

Felt: “Oh shut it, Ezzo! People will get over it if we execute the bastards.”

”If” was the key word.

Grieving and furious, Felt’s anger burned hotter than the taboo she’d just learned. To her, her bro was everything: brave, reckless, the sort to risk his life for others and stand up for what is right, like he had done in the capital. That knowledge didn’t dull the betrayal she felt now — nor her fear.

Felt: “Bro… what do I do now…?”

Rom reached out and patted the angry girl’s head, the small comfort he could offer two children caught in a ruinous mess.

Rom: “I hope you’re alright, kid.”

—

Marcos stood in the town square beside the central fountain, overseeing the patrols. Around him, five knights of varying ages gathered, their voices clashing over the revelation.

Knight 1: “Return by Death?! What in Od’s name?! He’s some kind of monster from another world!”

Knight 3: “You’d think being from beyond the Great Waterfall would’ve been the only shock today…”

At that comment, an older knight interjected.

Knight 2: “Does it matter?! We have to bring him in! He’s obviously part of the Witch’s Cult! We can’t just let this freak stroll around unchecked, right, Captain Marcos?”

Marcos: “…”

Knight 4: “Um… Captain Marcos?”

Marcos: “We will do no such thing.”

Knight 2: “What—why?! Captain, I implore you to reconsider! This is a monster we’re talking about! Who knows how the Royal Selection’s already been affected by him! He’s working for the half-elf candidate, isn’t he? If that’s not proof enough he’s a cultist, then look at how he acted in the capital last time! He’s clearly against us!”

The other knights fell silent. It was the same reasoning that echoed through many minds across the kingdom—those who once praised the black-haired knight now doubted him. But Marcos thought differently.

Marcos: “Calm yourself. We are here to keep order, not to call for the death of our own.”

Knight 1: “Our own?!”

Knight 2: “He could never be our own! He was never even a noble to begin with! The only reason he has that title is because the half-witch gave it to him—and that makes me believe she knew about his ability! She’s using his mad devotion to doom us all!”

Knight 5: “He’s got a point, Captain.”

Knight 3: “Yeah…”

Marcos: “I understand your reservations, and I understand the risks. But we have no right to undo all that Natsuki Subaru has done for this nation because of the method he used. Hold your tongues. I will not condemn the boy we all called a hero—after watching him die and suffer—without a concrete reason to call him an enemy, let alone a cultist.”

The words hung heavy. None of the knights could argue, and those who still disagreed lacked the courage to say so aloud. One by one, they turned back toward the glowing image above the square—silent once more.

—

Waitz: “So it’s true… Schwartz.”

Hiain: “Damn it!”

Gustav: “Remain calm, everyone!”

Idra: “How could you say that, Gustav-san?! After everything? You’re telling me Schwartz never even told us?!”

Gustav: “Would you?”

The single question froze them. The whole battalion fell silent.

After getting their attention with that dreadful thought, Gustav exhaled slowly. He needed to think—not as a man drowning in emotion, but as a general of the Empire, a planner and strategist before anything else. But his heart was waging war against him. Worry. Grief. Anger. Fear. Rage. Despair. He was feeling all of it.

He understood, in principle: Natsuki Subaru had died and come back. He possessed a power both dangerous and terrible. But to hear it spoken aloud—to have the truth named—shook something in him he hadn’t known could be shaken. Subaru knew. He had known all along, and he had named it. He had chosen to keep fighting with that knowledge.

That was the kind of person he was—the boy who had washed up on Gladiator Island, the one who charged straight into Gustav’s path, and later came back to offer his hand to the same man who had almost certainly killed him.

Oh gods… he had killed him, hadn’t he?

Gustav swallowed hard. A strange, hollow respect filled the pit of his stomach. He understood now the mercy in that boy’s heart—a mercy unknown in Vollachia. Subaru had fought for the people of the island, not for conquest or pride. He had commanded in the Sparka without ever using his allies as bait, something Gustav only now realized.

He’d come to make a deal—to save everyone on the island, he’d said—and he had stood by that. He had fought and won. “Return by Death” or not, Schwartz was worthy of respect. For shaking hands with the man who had once slain him, Gustav would forever honor the boy as his commander—Natsuki Subaru, leader of the Pleiades Battalion.

Waitz: “…Gustav-san?”

Gustav: “Ah? Yes. Apologies. I was simply thinking what fools you all are.”

Hiain: “Hah?! W-what do you mean, Gustav-san?! We’re just worried! You know, about this world-shattering ability—and Bro’s lies!”

Idra: “I love Bro, he saved me—saved us—but why? He seemed so guilty about lying over his identity, so much that he let himself get punched hundreds of times! But this? He never mentioned this!“

Gustav: “Then there must be a reason he kept it secret. Or maybe he isn’t a fool. Maybe he knew that telling anyone about his ability would only hurt them—and himself.”

He looked at them all, his expression softening.

Gustav: “Think. What would you do in his position?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t need to. Their faces told him everything—shock giving way to realization, realization giving way to trust. There was no one in the world they trusted more than the boy in the sky.

With a weary sigh, Gustav sat down on a piece of rubble. For once, he allowed himself a moment of leisure—because now, at last, he understood.

The others followed suit.

—

Back in Pristella, in a small house not far from Fred’s, two children burst out the front door.

Lusbel: “Come on, Tina! We gotta go!”

Tina grabbed his hand and started sprinting down the street.

Tina: “Coming!”

Lusbel: “Let’s head over to Fred and Reala’s—they’ll get it!”

Tina: “Unless their mom’s being mean about it too!”

Lusbel: “Then they’ll run out too, I just know it! No way they’d let anyone say anything bad about Subaru-sama!”

Tina: “You’re right!”

…

A few minutes later, the pair were knocking at their friend’s door.

Fred: “Huh? Lusbel? Tina? What are you two doing here?!”

Lusbel: “We wanna watch the hero’s story with you! Our mom and dad said he was a monster and a Witch Cultist, and they got mad when we defended him! So we came here instead—because you know Subaru-sama’s great, no matter what anyone says!”

Tina: “Mm-hmm!”

Fred blinked, then smiled.

Fred: “Alright, come in. We’ve got snacks.”

And so, in a quiet corner of the city, four children—each of whom had once been saved by that same boy or his words—sat together by the window to watch his story unfold.

—

Doltero: “So he confirmed it. It seems this pig has realized his potential. Truly dangerous.”

Manfred: “The question is, what do we do? Such an ability could and will destabilize the nation—no, the world itself.”

Toto: “For the first time, I believe we should step aside.”

Manfred: “And why do you say that?”

Toto: “Think about it. In what scenario do any of us come out on top against him? He is so fragile that anyone could kill him, yet none will ever end him. That creates a paradox—one of action and continued action with no end. If we were to poke or prod him the wrong way, the world itself would twist for his convenience, and that could stipulate our end.”

Doltero: “Indeed. Even if the pig has no discipline or direction, should his life not be insufficient enough to maintain him, or his will to live falter, it will be as you say, Toto—the world will twist for his convenience.”

Manfred: “So our best bet is to stay out of his way and hope no one else is foolish enough to interfere.”

Toto: “Yes. As long as he remains as simple as he seems, then even his involvement in the royal selection will be of no meaningful consequence.”

Like that, the three heads of Flanders agreed that they would not lay a hand on this explosion waiting to happen.

—

Back in Vollachia, the emperor had welcomed his generals. 

Able: “Sit.”

Olbart: “Oioi your majesty, no hello to set the mood?”

Although Olbart joked and complained, he was the first to sit—claiming one of the many single chairs scattered across the broad balcony. The structure jutted inward from the building, giving them cover without losing the view. Moguro, too large for most of the furniture, stayed beneath the roof’s shade, Groovy dragging a chair beside him so the two could watch together.

Madelyn claimed the far-right corner, close enough to lean over the edge if she wished but distant from the others. Kafma seated himself near Abel, at the middle of the formation, between his emperor and Moguro behind him. From above, the arrangement formed a loose semicircle: Abel near the mid-right facing the screen, Madelyn at the front right, Moguro at the back center with Groovy to his left, Olbart cross-legged on the floor before them, using Moguro’s bulk as cover. Goz stood guard at the front left, refusing to sit, while Zkir lingered just behind Madelyn on the right.

Much to their chagrin, Jamal, Medium, Flop, and Taritta, had been dismissed elsewhere, leaving the rest gathered in quiet tension—a half circle of generals, poised to witness the world’s greatest taboo unfold before their eyes.

And then it happened.

“I’ll call it—Return by Death.”

Olbart: “Well, this ain’t good. That the same brat who knew too much and saved our behinds. Damn, not good at all.”

Abel, after coming to terms with what had now been confirmed true by the man himself, exhaled a long, heavy sigh that drew every gaze on the balcony.

Abel: “Tell me, Goz Ralfon. What do you make of this revelation?”

Flustered, Goz straightened, desperate to answer properly.

Goz: “I believe he is dangerous. If he chose to live quietly without involving himself in our empire, we might have looked past this. Yet he fought in our war. I remember meeting him—so eager to save a girl that he raised an army. I can only imagine the death toll. In other words, he must be monitored. Should he be left to his own devices, or worse, fall into the hands of our enemies, we cannot predict the damage that will be done to our proud empire.”

Olbart: “So ya wanna spy on the brat?”

Kafma: “It is not a bad idea. We must allow him the freedom to live, but not to act without supervision.”

Madelyn: “This dragon would sleep easier if that friggin’ monster was on watch.”

Abel said nothing. He was quietly relieved he had dismissed the O’Connell siblings earlier—this conversation would have been impossible with their shouting.

Zkir: “I disagree.”

Abel: “…”

The emperor’s silence urged him to continue.

Zkir: “Miss Natsumi does not deserve such distrust. She saved our nation—and did so with style.”

Madelyn barked a laugh.

Madelyn: “What the figg are ya talkin’ about?! It’s that brat we’re talkin’ about! Not some girl ya like!”

Zkir: “And that brings me to my point.”

Olbart: “It does?”

Zkir: “I first met Subaru Natsuki as Natsumi Schwartz. She was dressed as a lovely lady. Do you know why?”

Groovy: “’Cause he’s a fuckin’ weirdo.”

Zkir: “No. Because she intended to end the siege without bloodshed—using her disguise to win me over.”

Madelyn: “HAHAHA! And it worked?!”

Groovy: “No way!!”

Their laughter shook the balcony, and even Olbart snickered behind his sleeve. Only Moguro stayed quiet, curious for the end of the story.

Zkir: “It worked. I later learned Natsumi had been searching for a solution that placated everyone—that included our emperor here and that good, naive girl (Flora) who held the information they needed. It was Miss Natsumi who prevented needless bloodshed and united our allies. If anyone knows the value of a life, it’s one who has lost it, gained it, and lost it again. That truth has been shown through every one of her actions since visiting our empire. Do not forget—the one who saved us is the one you are branding a monster. And the one you wish to spy on and control is the reason we still stand.”

He turned toward Abel.

Zkir: “Tell me, Your Highness. What did Miss Natsumi ask for in return after saving our nation?”

Abel was silent for a long moment before answering.

Abel: “…Peace between our nations. And a single moment—alone with me—to ask that Vollachia be kinder to those weak like him.”

Everyone: “…!”

Moguro: “Why would he ask such a thing? As the one who kept our nation standing, he could have requested anything—he could have become a Divine General.”

Abel: “Indeed. I offered him the position myself, yet he refused. When I told him he would never have to fight, he simply said he helped because it was the right thing to do… and joked that he had—what was it—‘three arts and crafts projects waiting for him at home.’”

Glancing around, Abel saw the dawning realization on every face—the last person in the world they needed to fear for ambition was the one who had fought their war.

Kafma: “That is inconceivable. To turn down such an honor…”

Olbart: “And they say I’m crazy, psh.”

Groovy: “You’re kiddin’? You hearin’ this, Moguro? He turned it down!”

Manguro: “Yes. I am hearing it.”

Zkir: “It seems I have delivered my message well.”

Goz: “…”

Watching their reactions, Abel allowed himself a faint, knowing smile. His purpose in calling them here had been fulfilled. For all that they called him progressive—or arrogant, or worse—he was still an emperor, and Vincent to the core. Whatever the world decided about the boy called Subaru Natsuki, he would decide for himself what kind of man his frenemy truly was.

It was then that Barstetz stepped in.

—

Serena: “Well, I did not see this coming. To think that the same boy I met in passing was so, I don’t even know how to put it. How do you put into words that enigma?”

Serena continued to watch. Like most smart individuals she had already understood the nature of the boy’s ability, and like all of them, that name—Return by Death— was confirmation that something great and terrible had entered their world.

—

Cecilus: “Haha! A name fittin’ of a legend!”

As Cecilus bounced around—laughing, cheering, and maybe even singing, and Arakiya stood there stunned—Spica’s reaction was far different.

When she had first met Subaru, he’d hated her. She hadn’t known why back then, only to later learn the truth of her past self’s sins. To realize that all the hate from the one she loved most was justified—that she had earned it—had almost broken her. How could she have hurt him so deeply that even he, the kindest and most forgiving person in the world, would despise her?

But she had, and if she wanted to move forward, she had to atone. That was why she had cast away her old name and taken on this one—why she was here now, traveling with the Blue Lightning (or “Funny Blue,” as she called him in her head) and Arakiya (or “Tsundere,” as Subaru would’ve definitely called her). Together, they were working to cleanse the remnants of the undead using her authority. And for the first time in forever, she was doing something good.

And now—what more had her sins included, if he truly had this power?

How many more times had she failed to save him, only to forget because of this cursed ability?

She didn’t care what it was called, nor what it meant for the world.

All she cared about was what it signified—her loved one’s terrible, endless suffering.

Spica: “Uuu… (Please… be ok.)”

—

Tanza: “Schwartz-sama… why?”

Yorna: “Don’t let this shake your view of that child. You, Tanza, are my attendant—and his friend. Do not let yourself fall into the folly of doubt.”

Yorna was a wise woman. She had suffered endlessly for years under the curse of her own immortality. And so, rather than fear, what she felt now was gratitude. Gratitude for the boy who had given her closure.

Now she understood why he had gone out of his way to let her say goodbye to Eugard—because he understood what it meant to love, to die, and to return without that love.

Yorna: “I understand now why that child fought for me… why he fought for you. Do you not see it, Tanza?”

Calmly, the fox woman looked upon her nervous attendant.

Tanza: “I suppose. And yet… I can’t help but feel this is wrong.”

Yorna: “Then feel, Tanza—but do not break the bonds you’ve made. They are all anyone truly has.”

With that, she turned her gaze back to the screen, silent and steady.

—

Mizelda: “Return by Death? So it’s true! Subaru-san truly is a wonder!”

Though her voice rang with its usual bluster, a storm brewed beneath her calm. The boy on the screen was everything her people were not—utterly incompatible with their way of life. And yet, that very same boy had gone out of his way to save them all.

He must have hated them, she thought. He must have found their beliefs disgusting. While her people glorified dying with honour, he must have feared and despised death. Right now, she wanted to fear him; she wanted to despise him; she wanted to say he had tricked them—that he had used their faith in a warrior’s death to slither his way into their ranks.

But what right did she have to do that? To condemn the one she herself had sent to die? To condemn the one who had saved her life?

He had treated her kindly. He had treated her people kindly. He had gone out of his way not merely to be their ally, but their friend—an act unheard of in the Empire. Even the Emperor had only sought them out to use them, as was their way and their debt. But Subaru was different. He had fought for them, bled for them, and won for them.

It was she who had proudly declared that their casualties were minimal, and it was all thanks to him.

So, Mizelda chose not to form her judgment—not yet. Instead, she turned away from the screen to comfort the confused young girls huddled beside her, as the world around them began to question everything they thought they knew.

—

Medium: “Waahhh!!! Husband-kun! Why do you have to suffer!?”

Flop: “Oh my… Return by Death. So that’s how Husband-kun did it…? …hk!”

Taritta: “What is it, Flop?! I know this is worrying, but wh—”

Flop: “I understand!!!”

Medium & Taritta: “Eeeh!?”

Flop: “He died!!! …He died… Oh no no no… I failed…”

Medium: “We know he died, but what does that have to do with you failing?”

Flop: “I failed Husband-kun! I failed after promising to help him! I—I remember! He was so scared, but I was joking around… How could I-I?”

Taritta: “You’re going to have to explain this.”

Both his wife and sister looked at him with barely concealed worry as Flop’s world fell apart.

Flop: “Back in the fortress city of Guaral, Husband-kun and I were walking outside after selling his wares—talking and bonding—when he suddenly froze mid-step. Next thing I knew, he was screaming and threatening someone. It was because of that strange outburst that we escaped the city before being killed. The only way he could have known… was if he’d used this power. If he had died. And that means I failed to save him!”

After his rambling, all the two girls could do was stare—heartbroken. If what Flop was saying was true, then they had all failed their friend and comrade.

—

To Vague, this was nothing more than confirmation. He had been isolated for so long that he knew nothing of the events surrounding the boy on screen. To him, Subaru was simply a funny fool—someone who could not die, and therefore could go on entertaining him forever. As long as he never had to think about that, it didn’t matter. He just hoped the immortal freak would keep tormenting that spirit in every life.

—

Holy King: “So he calls it Return by Death… disgusting.”

Tiriena: “Indeed.”

Holy King: “Once this phase is over, we must look over what information we have about him. We must be prepared.”

Tiriena: “It has been only forty minutes or so since the start of this showing. We would not have collected much in such little time.”

Holy King: “I am aware, but we cannot remain idle. This monster must be dealt with. At the very least, my contacts should be prepared by then.”

Tiriena: “Good, I shall assist.”

Holy King: “You will.”

—

Todd: “Ah, so that’s what he calls it. I can’t believe I overlooked this. My bad, my bad.”

Katya: “This is absurd…” “I have to wonder how Rem-san is doing, now that she knows who that boy really is.”

As the revelation on screen continued, Katya started biting her nails, as Todd thought about the past for the second time since meeting this freak.

—

[Further clearing up the details of his newfound ability, Subaru remembers his debt to “Satella”, and how it was made null since they technically never met each other.]

—

“So will he overlook her?” Was a common question. 

—

[Subaru: In that case, I should forget everything, sell this, save some funds, and use my knowledge of the modern world to live in luxury!]

—

Anastasia: “That’s wha’ I would do.”

Eridna: “But you know him, Ana—he’d never leave, no matter how it may seem.”

Julius: “Return by Death or not, Natsuki Subaru would never abandon someone in need.”

Mimi: “The Mini-boss would never.”

At her knight's words of respect for his friend, Anastasia answered with mock offence.

Anastasia: “You sayin’ I ain’t as good as ’im, Juli?”

She asked playfully, hoping to distract her knight.

It worked—after stammering out a quick reassurance, Julius sat down with a faint flush on his cheeks and a knowing grin from the shinobi watching nearby.

—

Doltero: “It would be the correct action—to prioritize one’s self over such useless ideals.”

Toto: “Mm-hmm, its not as if he has the ability to assist against such a foe.”

Manfred: “Agreed. And just think of all the things he could create for our world if he chose that path.”

—

Felt found it hard to stay angry—whether because of his insistence on leaving her to die, or because he hadn’t even considered her death, only Emilia’s.

But in truth, wasn’t that what she had done to him?

How could she judge?

Didn't he save her in the end anyway?

So she stayed silent.

—

[Upon asking a random merchant for his opinion on this plan, the man’s dismissal led to some reflection on the boy’s part.]

—

That same man—who had a stand of his own only a few stalls down from the apple seller—could only shout that he remembered this.

Kadomon: “Shit, one more reason for us to believe this.”

Raksha: “Don’t worry too much. At least some of the attention’s off us now.”

True to her words, most of the market had turned their chatter toward that salesman.

— 

[The boy stepped out onto the street, a plastic bag dangling from his hand. Ahead, a mother and daughter were carrying groceries. For a moment, they reminded him of “Satella” and Plum—so vividly that he barely noticed the tomato slipping from their brown bag. It rolled across the cobblestone, bright and helpless, before a dragon carriage thundered past and crushed it flat.

His breath hitched.

He grabbed his stomach, face draining of color, as memories of pain—of dying—rushed up from somewhere deep and buried.]

—

Abel: “I suppose one cannot shake off death so easily.”

Olbart: “Nah, I could handle it. We shinobi are tough, ya know.”

Kafma: “He is not a warrior, nor has he endured hardship. Just look at him—he’s the personification of weakness. He’ll abandon those girls when the time comes.”

Moguro: “As is the way of the Empire.”

Madelyn: “This dragon would agree, if that friggin’ half-elf hadn’t gotten in this dragon’s way before.”

Zkir: “Miss Natsumi would never abandon them so rudely. Just wait—she’ll prove it to you all.”

A silence lingered after his words, broken only by the faint crackle of the viewing. Even among Vollachia’s monsters, some part of them wanted to believe him.

—

Across the world, a pang of pity was sent toward the boy who had died and come back. As afraid as everyone was, no one could deny the horror of such an event. For those who were able to look past the fear, a deep-seated sadness overtook them—even if only for a moment.

—

[Remembering all the good times he enjoyed with Emilia, her kindness despite being in a hurry herself, and the prospect of what could happen to her in that loothouse, Subaru steadied himself once more. 

Subaru: Yeah. If I have the knowledge that people I used to know will be killed, I can’t just ignore it!]

—

At that declaration, a smile overtook the naïve, it overtook the just, it overtook the kind—and it missed the pessimistic, the realistic, those who saw him as nothing more than a whiny child.

—

Chapter Text

—

Fred: “Yeah! You can’t leave them to die!”

Rafiel: “Yeah, you can do it, Subaru-sama!”

Lusbel: “He’ll save the princess—and he’ll win!”

Tina: “Yeah!”

—

Bordeaux: “Tch, I suppose he became a hero for a reason. No need to worry when you can’t die.”

Miklotov: “That does not mean he has nothing to fear. If you paid attention, you would see that pain was still quite the repellent.”

Holding up a finger of argument, Miklotov put forth his thoughts. 

Bordeaux: “He still has no respect. To go and fight with such stakes is dishonorable to the extreme.”

Miklotov: “I am sure that many agree with you.”

True to Miklotov’s words, many did agree—whether it be the knights speaking with the focused Captain Marcos, or the Vollachian warriors who shared that sentiment, many found the lack of stakes dishonorable.

But on the other side, there were those who saw it as a sacrifice. The Crusch Camp, the Anastasia Camp, the Felt Camp, the people of Pristella, the battalion, and most civilians who had no stake in high society—all of them admired the boy’s determination to see this life through the right way, something many of them felt too selfish to do themselves.

—

Todd: “…”

Katya: “H-he’s a fool.”

Todd gave no answer, content to hold his wife’s hand as she stuttered, drowning in nerves for the person on screen who went against everything she believed, and which Rem had tried to argue for. 

—

[Running back to the scene of the crime, Subaru ran up to the apple salesman.

Subaru: Hey, mister… 

Kadomon: What do you want, broke boy? 

Subaru: There’s something I want to ask you…Have there been any pickpocketing incidents around here?]

—

After a good few moments of crying, Subaru finally calmed down enough to let go of poor Otto and sit back. A faint smile lingered on his face as he sniffled softly.

Otto sat down as well, and the two of them faced each other—though while Otto looked straight at Subaru, Subaru’s gaze was fixed on the ground.

Emilia: “Are you alright, Subaru…?”

Subaru looked up and to the side, where that familiar silver bell had rung, and gave her the biggest, toothless smile imaginable.

Subaru: “I’ve never been better.”

At that, the whole Camp froze. Confusion from Annerose, Meili, Clind, Garfiel, Frederica, Sylphy, Rem, and Ram. Worry from Petra, Emilia, and Beatrice. All the while, Roswaal remained silent—for once. If there was ever a time for the clown to hold his tongue, it was now. This moment belonged to Subaru.

Roswaal had already deduced from Subaru’s reaction that he had likely been unable to share his secret until now—but the reason why, that he would discover later.

Beatrice: “Then you can explain this Return by Death, I suppose…?”

For the spirit of yin, it took every ounce of patience she had built up over four hundred years of solitude to remain calm enough to even ask that question. But it was working—she needed it to work. Because she believed, with every flicker of mana in her Od, that this would be the day she finally learned why her contractor’s eyes were always so hollow. And though the answer already seemed painfully clear, she would not grieve until she heard it from him.

Subaru: “Y-yeah… you won’t like my answer, though…”

That was when Ram spoke up—seeing her sister’s distress, or rather feeling it, she decided to push Barusu into action.

Ram: “Barusu, now that you’re done debasing yourself, explain yourself. You’ve made yourself enough of a problem for my dear sister.”

Making it clear he had no room to stall, Ram’s tone left Subaru no choice. He looked at her—standing tall—and then at the rest of his Camp, who were already on their feet. So, he stood up as well, prompting Otto to rise beside him.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and spoke those dreadful words.

Subaru: “I—I can Return by Death.”

Beatrice: “Hk…!”

Everyone’s eyes widened, but their mouths stayed shut. They needed to see this through.

Subaru: “That’s been the truth since the day we met,” he said, making eye contact with every friend and ally present.

Subaru: “When I die, I go back in time to an unspecified point—a point I don’t control and that exists solely to save me.”

Subaru: “A-and… I’ve died a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And I wanted to tell you, b-but there was just no way.”

He wasn’t frantic—just nervous. It was clear to everyone that Subaru was terrified of their reactions. As such, Emilia interjected.

Emilia: “What do you mean by ‘there was no way,’ Subaru?”

In truth, she was panicking. What did he mean he went back in time when he died? What did he mean he died a lot? How many times had he been hurt? How many times had she failed to save him—to remember him? He’d said she saved him, but only now, a year and a half later, was she learning the truth. And as she looked closer, she finally noticed how tired he looked. Oh, Od—he looked so tired.

Subaru: “Yeah… there’s a stipulation to my ability.”

Meili: “What stipulation~? Hmm~?”

Petra quickly nudged her to shut her up.

Subaru: “Well… don’t freak out.”

Otto: “We’re way past that, Natsuki-san.”

Otto’s tone teetered between exasperation and hysteria.

Garfiel: “Y-yeah, B-Boss, I think ya’ should just say it.”

Subaru: “The Witch.”

Beatrice: “W-what?!?!?! Th-the Witch?!?!”

Frederica: “Subaru-sama! You can’t be serious!?”

Before the rising panic could consume the Camp, Subaru quickly interjected.

Subaru: “Calm down! We’re not in danger! I’ve confirmed that!”

Otto: “No no no! You can’t just say that! Just a few minutes ago you were signing our death warrant!”

Subaru: “Yeah… and I really thought you guys were doomed.”

Garfiel: “But ya’ said ya were kiddin’!”

Shock and indignation rippled through the group as they realized they probably should not have been relaxing all this time.

Subaru took another deep breath, deciding to say everything that needed to be said in one go—ripping the bandage clean off.

Subaru: “I-have-an-ability-that-makes-me-an-immortal-time-traveler—this-ability-was-given-to-me-by-the-Witch-of-Envy-after-she-kidnapped-me-and-brought-me-into-this-world-for-Od-knows-what-reason—and-I-can’t-tell-anyone-or-the-Witch-will-stop-me—either-through-torture-or-by-killing-the-person-I’m-talking-to! *deep breath* There, I said it!”

Beatrice: “B-but… Betty n-never noticed…!”

This was bad—very bad. How could she protect him from the Witch of Envy? How could she protect him from the pain that threatened to consume him every time he had “another episode”? What was Betty to do now that she knew she had failed…?

Subaru walked over and gave her the biggest hug, picking her up and addressing the Camp.

Subaru: “I know what you’re all thinking. I know because I’ve been there. But listen—this is the most important part.”

Subaru: “I’m okay. Well… as okay as I can be. I’m truly happy, because I’ve gotten the one thing I was sure I’d never get.”

He looked around at each of them, smiling softly.

Subaru: “I know you’re sad, and I know you have questions. But please, for me—don’t treat this as a tragedy. This is my life, after all, and I kinda want to see things in a good light.”

He said, holding Beako in one hand and scratching his head with the other.

Subaru: “I hope you’ll treat this as a reason for celebration, because today, I can say with full confidence: I am free… and I am complete. This is my victory.”

Although there would be much more to say, that would be for later. 

—

While this conversation was taking place, the screen continued its tale.

[Kadomon: Asking questions without buying anything? You’ve really got guts.

Despite this comment, Kadomon did notify Subaru of an unusual pickpocketing encounter that had just occurred, and displayed his good mood when remembering how another broke kid had helped his daughter earlier. 

Subaru: I guess fate is a compelling force, too…

Sprinting away, the boy revised his plan, adding on the need to figure out “Satella”’s true name once they met again.]

—

Felt: “Hk…! Big bro asked for her name! Shit, I was totally blind!”

Rom: “Don’t beat ya’self up, kiddo. It was a pretty weird ask—not that I heard it myself.”

Felt: “Yeah, I had ta’ tell ya later—it was so crazy! Just the type o’ thing big bro would say.”

Ezzo: “Did that really happen, Felt-sama?”

Ezzo couldn’t deny he was impressed if that was true.

Felt: “Yup! Big bro made a whole show outta savin’ big sis, but then he just asked her name! It was hysterical!”

All of a sudden, Felt burst out laughing. She needed an outlet. The laughter came hard, loud, and raw—until it was thoroughly interrupted by the Sword Saint returning from his brief task in the holding cells.

Reinhard: “My lady, it’s done.”

…

Reinhard: “My lady?”

Rom: “Don’t bother—she’s in her own world right now.”

Grassis: “She’s lost it.”

Flam: “Felt-sama has lost it.”

As Reinhard watched the chaos of the Camp unfold, he allowed himself—for the first time since the revelation—to think.

For as long as he could remember, he had been called a hero. A being beyond human. A weapon to be used, never understood. To most, his strength was a miracle; to him, it was a prison. Every life he could not save, every moment he arrived too late—each one had carved the word monster a little deeper into his soul.

And now, before his eyes, the one person who had ever treated him as simply Reinhard was being called the same.

He knew this to be true—not from rumor or emotion, but from the countless divine protections feeding a steady stream of truth into his mind.

A hero branded a monster.

A mortal carrying an immortal curse.

It should have felt wrong. Instead, it felt… familiar.

Reinhard: “I can only hope that, when all of this is done—and after I apologize for my failure to save you—you’ll look at me with that same familiarity, and we can speak about your burden. For once… I think someone might understand.”

He could not deny the strange joy he felt at learning this truth about Natsuki Subaru, his friend—nor could he suppress the shame and disgust that followed for feeling any joy at all over something so twisted.

Unbeknownst to him, across the nation, that very same boy was feeling the same.

Both cursed heroes, both monsters in their own right—each yearning for the same thing.

To speak.

To connect.

To be understood.

—

[Running back into the alleyway he had just died in, Subaru was confronted by the same 3 stooges.

Camberley: What are you babbling on about? 

Rachins: If you don’t wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got!  

Subaru: I'm getting sick of seeing your faces, Ton-chin-kan. After doing this four times, I’ve learned my lesson!

And with a sharp inhale and a look to the sky, he shouted so. 

Subaru: *Inhaaaaale* GUARDS!  

Despite Subaru’s continued screaming, even debasing himself by doing so in a high-pitched tone, and the protests of the thugs, no one seemed to have come to the rescue. 

Until… 

???: That’s enough.]

—

Reinhard: “…”

Although he was silent, he was in joyous turmoil. If what he suspected was true, and he was going to give it a few moments before he confirmed it out loud, then this was the correct timeline, and his friend would survive. Oh Od, please let it be true.

and in true Reinhard fashion, the one loved by the world was given his wish.

—

[A Red-haired Knight, Reinhard van Astrea, made his appearance..  

Though humble in his introduction, the mere presence of the Master Swordsman was enough to cause the hooligans to flee on the spot.]

—

Reinhard: “Felt-sama, I remember this…”

It was true, he remembered this, the day he met Subaru, and all the confusion that followed when that weak boy showed himself worthy of Raid.

Felt: “What!?”

Reinhard: “I remember this. It happened. I remember.”

Ezzo: “B-but that means…!”

Rom: “That the kid survived.”

Rom: “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Felt: “Fuck yeah!”

Reinhard: “Language.”

Felt: “Oh, shut it.”

—

Vague: “Who’s that? Never seen him before…”

—

Holy King: “Now who is this? He dons the Lugunican knight’s uniform…”

Tiriena: “I believe he is the revered Sword Saint.”

Holy King: “The Sword Saint!? That’s unbelievable! If that’s true, then that monster ended up very, very lucky—or very unlucky.”

Tiriena: “It’s funny, isn’t it? The boy gets dropped into another world, dies, comes back, and meets the most powerful being alive—all in one day… or three, depending on how you see it.”

Holy King: “Don’t joke about such things, woman. But yes… quite the coincidence. One would think it was planned.”

—

Arakiya: “Calm down, Cecilus-sama. There’s no reason to drool like that.”

Cecilus shook his head—both to regain his composure and to show his excitement. After all, before him stood the one he’d been waiting for: the only person worthy of being his destined rival, the perfect antagonist in his grand story.

Cecilus: “Are you kidding me?! Look, look, look—it’s my destined rival right there! The one who’ll put me center stage! Mark my words, our clash shall happen… and it shall be legendary! Come to think of it, I should ask Boss to introduce us! Yes! It’s the perfect plan!”

Arakiya and Spica could only sigh at his eccentricity.

Meanwhile, Spica silently hoped that the strange red-haired man would help Subaru.

—

Bordeaux: “The Sword Saint—on the first day!? Inconceivable! This had to have been pre-designed by someone. How else could you explain such luck?”

Miklotov: “For once, I have to agree. It seems impossible that such an event could be mere chance.”

Turning to the side to address one of the knights, Miklotov put forth the following query while stroking his long beard.

Miklotov: “Tell me—was there ever a report of this meeting, or of a battle that followed?”

The knight answered in the negative, confirming to the two wise men that this was a dead loop.

Unbeknownst to them, the Sword Saint had simply chosen not to inform anyone of his little rendezvous with fate.

—

[Awkwardly thanking the knight who needed no introduction for his help, Reinhard’s stubborn humility did not go unnoticed by Subaru.

Subaru: H-His nice guy index is off the charts.]

—

A collective thought of “You’re one to talk,” rippled through everyone who knew our main character. For as much as he admired others, no one could deny that the person with the highest “nice guy index,” as he’d put it, was Subaru himself.

—

[Afterward, the swordsman closed the formal gap between them a bit faster than usual, prompting another mental comment from the outlander. The conversation developed from there, and before long—]

—

Another collective comment rippled through the same group, filled with equal parts fondness and exasperation: “They’re so similar…”

—

Felt: “Ya so desperate to make friends, it’s written all over ya face! Ha!”

A few more pointed snickers followed—from servants, attendants, and friends alike. No one could deny that the Sword Saint was downright cute when he wanted to make friends.

—

Mimi: “Haha! Juli, your friend is so funny!”

Julius: “Indeed…”

Is this really the type of person he is? he wondered. So eager to connect with others… Maybe I truly was a fool for overlooking him just because of his strength.

Anastasia: “So cute…! Must. have. all. cute. things!”

Halibel: “Haha, Anabo, I don’t think you’re gettin’ what ya want this time.”

—

[Subaru: Are you a guard? You don’t look like one.]

—

Reinhard: “…”

Felt: “HA!”

—

Kadomon: “Haha, kid, trust me, he’s a knight.”

Pear salesman: “I know this kid is from another world, but how can he not know what a knight is?”

Raksha: “Maybe his world doesn’t have any knights?”

Plum: “B-but then who keeps them safe?”

Pear salesman: “Yeah, Raksha-san, they need someone to keep them safe, and the kid clearly knows what a knight is, he just didn’t think the Sword Saint was a knight, it really brings up questions, you know?”

Raksha: “I suppose, maybe he will mention it later…?”

Kadomon: "Hopefully."

Plum: “At least he’s funny!”

—

[Reinhard: I’m off duty today, so I’m not in full uniform. And I realize that I don’t look particularly intimidating. 

Upon being offered help, Subaru called out the first thing that came to mind. 

Subaru: Then would you come to the loot house with me?]

—

Doltero: “So he asks for help, it seems that with the help of the sword saint he shall survive.”

Toto: “About time, watching him die again seems redundant.”

It was true that for most who had no emotional stake in Subaru’s game, it would become redundant to watch his emotional tragedy repeat. Not to mention they all had lives to return to.

—

Holy king: “So, will he survive?”

Tiriena: “Seems so…”

—

Across the world, one consensus was reached, should the sword Saint choose to assist, it would ring total victory.

—

Tina: “Thank Od, he’ll be fine now…”

Fred: “Yeah!”

Lusbel: “One hero helping another… So cool!”

Fred: “Yeah!”

Tina: “Is that all you say?!”

Fred: “Yeah!”

With a decisive smack to the head by his future wife (My head-cannon, buzz off) Fred shut his mouth.

—

[Reinhard: Loot house?

It was obvious that Subaru’s lack of knowledge, paired with the Sword Saint’s humble speak, created a situation where Subaru — being the kind boy he is — became unable to ask for help.  

Subaru: Uhh, Nevermind. Forget it. I can’t trouble you with that. I’ll handle the rest on my own, somehow. But…I’d appreciate it if you could deliver a message.]

—

Crusch: “No Subaru-san! You must ask for help!

Wilhelm: “Make use of the Sword Saint Subaru-dono!”

Felix: “Nya gotta or nya gonna die!”

—

Reinhard: “I’m glad I followed you that day.”

—

Anastasia: “My assumption is that he’s gonna use em’ in the next life.”

Julius: “Anastasia-sama…”

— 

[Reinhard: Of course, I’d be glad to. What should I say, and to whom? 

Subaru: Well, I don’t know her name, but… 

Upon realizing relaying the appearance of the receiver, Subaru gave the message that was to be transmitted. 

Subaru: I’ll find what she’s looking for and bring it to her myself. 

Reinhard: Very well. If I see her, I’ll relay your message.]

—

Across the world, reactions to the exchange were mixed.

To many, the sentiment was touching—naïve, perhaps, but undeniably pure. Mothers, children, and those with gentler hearts smiled at the boy’s sincerity, finding his earnest promise adorable in its simplicity. To them, it wasn’t about power or strategy; it was about care—the kind of care only someone foolishly kind could give.

But among the hardened, the cynics and soldiers, his words drew sneers. “Nice words won’t stop the assassin from slittin’ him open again,” some muttered. “He should worry about surviving, not playing the hero.” To them, his vow was proof of his weakness, another sign that the boy didn’t understand the world he’d been thrown into.

And then there were those few who knew the woman he’d spoken of, and the love he had for her. To them, the gesture wasn’t sweet; it was devastating. They despaired at his ignorance, at his refusal to wield the Sword Saint’s help when he had it right beside him. That he’d risk his life on sentiment alone… it was just so very Subaru.

—

Beatrice: “O-of course you did, in fact! That’s just like you, always making promises at your own expense, I suppose…!”

Her voice cracked halfway through, trembling with anger she didn’t understand and sorrow she couldn’t express. She wanted to shout at him, to demand why he’d ever thought this was something to smile about — but all she could do was stare at the screen. Her tiny hands clutched at his sleeve, her eyes refusing to look away. She had to know. She needed to know. Because if she looked away now, she was certain she’d never forgive herself — not for failing to notice, not for failing to protect him.

So Beatrice stayed silent, torn between the boy holding her and the one still suffering on the screen — both of them her contractor, both of them her Subaru.

Beatrice: “We’ll be talking about this later, I suppose… but for now, everyone sits. We’re watching this, in fact.”

Reluctant relief rippled through the Camp as everyone obeyed. No one truly wanted to argue — no one even knew what to say anymore. Whatever lingering frustration or fear they had found its quiet outlet in the direction of Roswaal, whose painted smile faltered under their collective glare. Garfiel clicked his tongue — tch — before crossing his arms and dropping back down with a huff. Meili hummed softly, curling into herself beside Petra, while Clind adjusted his monocle and sat upright as if nothing had happened. Frederica folded her hands neatly, Ram sat with her usual sharp posture, and even Rem, uncertain and shaken, followed suit.

At last, Otto gave Subaru a single, silent nod — an unspoken agreement to keep watching… and to save the rest for later.

Subaru exhaled quietly, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders. 

Subaru: “At least they’re sitting,” he thought. “It’s the best I could’ve hoped for, given everything. Still… I wish they’d celebrate with me instead. This was supposed to be my freedom, even if I don’t really get how.” His gaze flicked back to the screen, a shadow crossing his smile. “But that’s fine. There’ll be time for that later — right now, I need to see how it all falls apart. The whole world’s watching… and… Tch, damn it! I really thought I would get a vacation before something half as crazy as this happened!”

As the real gravity of the situation settled, he could only sit down and watch while disparaging how he wouldn’t get to make chocolate like he planned after using his Vollachian connections to get cao beans (they call them cao beans — not cacao beans. (This is a sub plot which I may or may not use).

—

[While searching the slums for Felt’s whereabouts, Subaru got an answer from one of the slum dwellers. 

???: Felt’s den? Yeah just go two streets down that way. 

Subaru: Thanks, I appreciate it, bro. 

Slum-dweller: Don’t mention it, bro. Live Strong.  

Subaru: The question is whether Felt will come back there…I’d rather catch her before she goes to the loot house, and trade her the cellphone for the insignia–Whoa! 

???: Oh, dear! I’m sorry, are you alright?]

—

At that Voice, the world collectively held their breaths.

—

[Subaru: Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t look it, but toughness is the one thing I’ve…got… 

Elsa: What’s wrong? You don’t have to be scared. I won’t do anything to you.  

Subaru: I’m…I’m not scared! What gave you that idea?]

—

Todd: “The kid wasn’t so bad at hiding his fear when I met him. Must have improved since then.”

To Todd, who grew up in an environment that forced quick change, it made sense that the immortal freak would have no choice but to learn to hide his fear, or to die. Thinking about it now, that time…

—

Doltero: “Pathetic. The pig squeals again. He shows fear so easily, it’s almost sad to watch. Still, that’s what happens when you drop a soft thing into a world like this. He’ll die squealing, same as before.”

Toto: “Yes… he’s not making it out of this one alive. You can see it on his face — he already knows it.”

Manfred: “Disappointing. I thought the Sword Saint’s appearance might have been a good omen for him. Seems I was wrong.”

—

Holy King: “So it ends here again. The monster finds another dead end.”

Waving his hand around in exasperation hiding fear, the Holy King tried to feign calm while preparing for another brutal scene. 

Tiriena: “There’s no running from that woman. Fear like his… it will only invite his end.”

Holy King: “Tch.”

—

Felt: “Damn it, big bro! Why’d ya gotta have such rotten luck?! Rein! I thought ya said he lives through this one?!”

Reinhard: “I believe he does, Felt-sama. After all, we cannot predict the behavior of this assassin—she might let him go.”

For most, those words would’ve sounded like a normal attempt at reassurance, but for the Sword Saint—who possessed a divine protection granting perfect recall—they carried far heavier meaning. Every detail on the screen matched his memories too precisely for there to be any other version of this event. His friend would make it. He had to. Reinhard would not let doubt break through. He would have faith in his friend.

Rom: “Sure hope ya right.”

Ezzo: “Yeah…”

—

Felix: “Nya’s gotta run, hide, or at least hide nya fear better, Subaru-kun!”

As Felix panicked over the boy’s hopeless attempts to mask his terror, Crusch felt much the same.

Crusch: “Please, Subaru-san… just be okay…”

Wilhelm said nothing. His grip on his sword tightened until the leather creaked, his mind filled with one thought—of driving that foul woman into the dirt.

Russell: “Seems they're more worried about the boy then I thought…”

—

Halibel: “Youch, Su-san ain’t making it out a’ this one.”

In truth, the wolf man felt quite the despair at the idea. Part of him, like many others, had hoped that the appearance of the sword Saint would be the beacon that saves the boy. A chance that seems slim, and every step forward seems like one more towards his death.

Julius: “Come on Subaru…!”

Mimi: “Scary lady, I’ll kill her!”

Tievy: “I believe she would have been disposed of by now…”

Mimi: “Doesn’t matter! I’ll drag her Od out tha’ after life and kill her again!”

Hetero: “Please don’t say that…”

Mimi: “She deserves it for Scarin’ and hurtin’ the Mini-boss like that!”

Ricardo: “Agreed.”

Eridna: “You're not truly entertaining this, are you…?”

Ricardo: “Nah, but it's true I wish I could get revenge for the Mini-boss ma’ self!”

Julius: “Indeed.”

They laughed and spat threats, trading jokes and bluster as a thin, trembling shield against the panic her sudden appearance on the screen had stirred within them. 

—

Back in the Emilia Camp, before panic and disaster could erupt, Subaru decided to give them a simple sentence to calm them down.

Subaru: “Ohh, I’m sure you’re worried about what’s going on on screen right now, but don’t worry, this is what I call a successful loop. In other words—I live! Hooray!”

For a moment, the words didn’t register—then the Camp collectively exhaled. Emilia gasped, hands flying to her chest; Beatrice’s shoulders slumped with trembling relief; Otto let out a weak, half-hysterical laugh; Garfiel punched the air with a shaky grin; Petra nearly burst into tears; Sylphy sighed; and even Ram’s, alongside Rem’s, lips twitched in something that might’ve been a smile.

Letting his semi-false but mostly true joy fuel his words, thus declared the victor.

—

[Elsa: Your scent. When people are scared, I can smell their fear. You’re scared right now. You’re also angry, aren’t you? At me. 

Subaru: … 

Elsa: It’s fine. I am a bit curious, but now isn’t the time to start a commotion.]

—

Across the world, a single breath seemed to escape countless lungs at once. From kings and killers to merchants and children, the collective tension loosened. The Holy King’s hand eased from his armrest, Vague’s empty gaze softened, and even the Flanders trio allowed a faint exhale of acknowledgement. In the empire, the hardened generals leaned back, unspoken relief flickering through the cracks of discipline. In Lugunica, knights, nobles, and commoners alike felt their hearts steady; Wilhelm’s grip on his sword slackened, Felix wiped at his eyes as if clearing dust, and Crusch closed hers in quiet reprieve. The Pleiades Battalion, the people of Pristella, even those who loathed or feared the boy—they all felt it. For just one fragile heartbeat, the whole world was united in relief that the fool who should have died had not.

—

Flop: “Oh thank Od…!”

Taritta: “Too close.”

Medium: “Waaay to close!”

—

[Subaru: That’s not a very nice thing to say. If you’re too scary that beauty of yours will go to waste.

At those words, Elsa was sufficiently entertained, jumping back and putting her face by his. 

Elsa: Oh, very good. Conceal your hostility and you’ll be even better. Well, I’ll be going now. Something tells me we’ll meet again.  

Arriving at Felt’s home, surprisingly tidy for what is effectively a dump, Subaru is soon faced by the young thief. 

Under the impression that he is a thief, Felt continues to strike at him, only to be met with the boy’s resourceful defense. Soon, the confrontation leads Subaru to fall on top of the local residence, leading to it caving in on itself.]

—

Felt: “I remember this! Thank Od, bro will be fine!”

Reinhard couldn’t help but think in his own exasperated puppy dog eyed way, that he had already said that.

—

Miklotov: “So this is where the future royal candidate once lived… how humbling. To think such greatness could grow from so little.”

Bordeaux: “Humbling? It’s disgraceful. A royal candidate emerging from a pile of rubble and rot — is this the future of our kingdom?”

Miklotov: “Perhaps, Bordeaux, it is proof that worth is not born of marble halls, but of will.”

—

Meanwhile, in an unspecified mansion, the four nobles who had once sneered at the candidate exchanged glances of appalled disbelief.

Noble 1: “A candidate of Lugunica living in a slum? Unthinkable!”

Noble 2: “And to think the Sword Saint himself serves her!”

Noble 3: “Our kingdom truly has fallen to madness.”

Noble 4: "Disgraceful."

—

[Subaru: P-Please! Just hear me out, Felt! I came to see you on important business! 

Felt: How do you know my name? You want me to steal something for you? You should’ve said so in the first place.]

—

Ezzo: “Our reputation!!!!”

Rom: “We’ll be fine.”

Ezzo could only dramatically cry out as everything slipped through his fingers.

—

[Subaru: You’re the one who attacked me right off the bat! You know, this is a greedy business you’re running! Do you pride yourself on your sticky fingers?! 

Felt: It’s all a matter of how to stay alive. If not for this, I’d have no choice but to sell my body. So, what’s your business with me? Spit it out.]

—

Rom: “I would av’ never let that happen.”

Rom meant what he said, he would never have let such a fate befall his daughter. And as the others looked at her with pity, Felt did not waver.

Felt: “Thanks, old man.”

—

Across the world, the lowest of the low watched in uneasy silence.

In Gusteko, slaves whispered that maybe a thief-turned-royal could change something.

In Lugunica’s slums, the rats who lived as Felt once had laughed to hide their hope.

In Flanders, Toto’s weary workers muttered that if a street rat could rise, maybe anyone could.

And when the whispers faded, none looked away—fearful or hopeful, they all kept watching.

—

[Finally being given a chance to explain himself, Subaru details his intentions, as well as explaining how his cell phone works (for the second time now), disguising it under the name “Metia”. 

Without going to her old man’s loothouse, though, the young thief seems unwilling to make any trade for the stolen insignia, so the most Subaru can do is make up excuses for them to hurry up as much as possible.]

—

Felt’s quiet curse echoed through the room, raw and guilty, while elsewhere Beatrice’s trembling voice broke the silence.

Beatrice: “D-don’t go… I suppose.”

Subaru’s hand found her head, gentle and steady, a wordless promise that he would return. Yet as she leaned into his touch, Beatrice knew that survival alone was not enough—not for him. It had never been. Even if the others called it victory, to her, it would always feel like the bare minimum for the boy who carried death itself.

—

Zarestia: “Is the girl stupid, the boy clearly fears going to the loot house, yet she doesn’t even spare a glance, how neglectful.”

—

[Felt: You’re soaked with sweat…Live strong. 

Subaru: Everyone in the slums says that. Is it some kind of slogan?]

—

Yups and yess crowded the slum streets of Lugunica as they all proudly repeated their signature slogan.

—

[Felt: Don’t lump me in with those guys! They’re all talk. They’re not strong at all. They’re just a bunch of stingy losers at life.]

—

And just like that, the hope and admiration that had begun to bloom for the brave girl who’d fought, died with honor, and risen so far was crushed in an instant.

Slum Dweller: “How dare she say that?! We’re all doin’ our best to survive, but she, with her fancy fate, thinks she’s better than us!”

Slum Dweller 2: “Yeah! Guess she was always a rotten noble at heart!”

Anger spread through the crowd like wildfire, the same people who had once cheered her name now shouting it in contempt. And as their voices rose in protest, the screen carried on—unmoved, unhearing, telling its tale regardless of their fury.

—

Mimi: “That's a bit harsh…”

Anastasia couldn't blame Mimi, after all, she and the rest had been those slum rats once before, and they did their best to rise in the ranks. 

Anastasia: “Rude girl, that one.”

—

[Subaru: That’s gotta be going a bit too far.]

—

Agreed” became the cry of the poor, their bitterness shared in every corner of the streets—while a sneer was the answer of the elite, their scorn curling coldly at the sight of the boy who knew nothing.

—

[Felt: I’m not like the people here. I have no intention of living out my life in the back alleys! 

Subaru: And you think 20 holy coins will make your dream come true?

He asked with genuine interest. 

Felt: It’s true that it would be a huge leap towards my goal. Even if I were alone, it’s not as if I couldn’t get by with some effort. 

Subaru: If you were alone? 

Reminiscing about his memories with Felt and Rom and “Satella”, Subaru steels himself for the task ahead, believing it to be something only he can do.]

—

Able: “You really were that simple from the start…”

For Able, who had never truly been able to see that boy as a friend—too different, too incompatible—thinking back to his own accusations against the figure on screen, he couldn’t help but feel he understood him a little better now.

“Is that so bad? Without the resolve to try and carry the whole world on my back, and without any grand significance, is it really so bad if I save those who are right in front of me on impulse?!”

Able: “So that was your impulse… truly foolish, Subaru Natsuki.”

And yet, even as he thought those words, the emperor couldn’t suppress the quiet satisfaction that welled within him. Foolish though it was, it was also genuine. The boy hadn’t lied—not about this. For the most paranoid ruler in the world, that small certainty was a rare and comforting thing.

— 

[In the meantime, he had been headpatting the young Felt, an action that earned him a big ol’ bite by the girl.]

—

Tanza: “Ungratful.”

—

Spica: “Uuah!”

—

Beatrice: “…”

—

Felt: “Sorry bro.”

—

[Skipping ahead in time, the duo is now in the company of Old Man Rom, who once again confirms the item’s value exceeding 20 holy coins. 

Feigning a happy go lucky attitude, Subaru repeatedly tries to justify his hurriedness, even using his knowledge from previous lives and giving his reason for wanting the insignia, both in an attempt to outpace the encroaching Bowel Hunter.]

—

Russell: “That will never work. He knows nothing of negotiation.”

Felix: “If only they’d listen to him, nya…”

—

Anastasia: “He’s flailin’ like a fish on dry land. Poor thing doesn’t even know the game he’s playin’.”

—

For many, Subaru’s clumsy attempt at bargaining was equal parts comedy and confirmation of his doomed fate.

—

Doltero: “Useless. The pig can’t even haggle for his life.”

—

Fred: “Why won’t they just listen to him…?!”

Tina: “They have to, or they’ll all die!”

Reala: “Please calm down children, I am sure it will be fine.”

—

Otto: “Come on Natsuki-san…!”

—

[However, all of these just make him seem more suspicious, and Felt refuses to heed any of his pleas.

A knock on the door sounds, and the frustrated boy’s expression rapidly evolves into one of terror. 

Subaru: Don’t open it! We’ll be killed!]

—

Vague: “And no one thought that was suspicious…?”

—

Able: “Just like…!”

He caught himself mid-sentence. That tone, that false brightness masking urgency—he’d heard it before. Back in Chaosflame, right before they went after the old man, that boy had said the same thing… and stopped himself, too. Why?

While Able maintained his cold facade before his generals, analyzing the parallels and subtle differences, two siblings elsewhere were having a similar exchange.

—

Medium: “No, no, no!”

Flop: “What’s wrong, dear sister? I know it’s scary, but Husband-kun’s not done fighting yet! He survived his last confrontation, didn’t he?!”

Rushing to her side as Taritta watched in worried silence, Flop tried to calm her.

Medium: “He’s acting the same! He said the same thing as in Chaosflame, but this time—he actually finished it! Does that mean he didn’t trust me enough to say it before?! Did he really die back then?! D-did I fail him…?”

Flop: “Sister, don’t talk like that! Husband-kun wouldn’t want you saying such cruel things about yourself!”

Medium: “You said the same thing!”

Flop froze. She was right. He had said the same thing—he had blamed himself too. But looking at her trembling form now, he realized just how wrong he’d been.

Flop: “You’re right, I did. But I was wrong, Sister. We both were. If Husband-kun’s still fighting — both then and now — it means he never gave up on us — not even once. So we can’t give up on ourselves either. Not now, not ever.”

Tears welled in Medium’s eyes as she nodded, clinging to his words. And though Flop’s heart still ached, he managed a shaky smile—the kind only he could muster in the face of despair.

Taritta approached softly, her expression gentler than her tone.

Taritta: “Let’s join them, shall we?”

The siblings shared a glance—Medium’s eyes still glistening, Flop’s forced grin barely holding—but both gave a small, shaky nod. Together, the three made their way toward the fountain where the Shudraqs sat waiting, the soft splash of water a fragile calm amid the unease settling over the square.

—

[Once again, he is ignored, and as this door is being opened–  

“Satella”: Kill you? I wouldn’t do something so terrifying. 

Subaru: …Huh!? 

Felt: -Huh?!

“Satella”: I'm glad you're here. You won't get away this time.  

Subaru: What? Why is she here? It's still light out. Wait, is this how early she would've arrived if she hadn't been with me?]

—

Garfiel: “Ouch! That’s rough, Boss…”

—

Anastasia: “Haha, seems so.”

Julius: “Haa… truly, Natsuki Subaru never ceases to invite chaos.”

Halibel: “HAHAHA! Su-san, ya never fail to make a scene!”

—

Even those trying to keep their composure couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of the scene—Subaru’s sheer confusion, Felt’s equally baffled reaction—was simply too much to take seriously.

—

Lusbel: “Haha!”

Tina: “Don’t worry, Subaru-sama! I’m sure you were still super helpful!”

Rafiel: “Yeah!”

Fred: “Still funny, though.”

The children’s laughter was innocent, infectious—laced with the kind of comfort that came from watching something not tragic for once.

—

Liliana: “HAHAHA! Kiritaka-san, look, look, Subaru-sama is so ridiculous! My next song will include this moment I tell ya’!”

Kiritaka: “Haa…”

—

Hiain: “Ouch, Bro, that’s gotta sting.”

Idra: “Haha! He’s so lost!”

Gustav: “…Hmph.”

The Pleiades Battalion burst into good-natured laughter, taking guilty pleasure in seeing their commander squirm—so long as he wasn’t bleeding out this time.

—

Felt: “Haha! Seen it again from this angle, I can tell I missed some of Big Bro’s best moments!”

Rom: “Ha, true. Hard ta’ believe we all thought he was some regular street fool back then.”

For a brief, shared instant, the mood across nations lightened. The sight of that hopeless, scrambling boy was a reminder—of warmth, of beginnings, of the strange little human who could still make even the hardest hearts laugh.

—

[Felt: What is wrong with you? Don't you know when to quit? I'm telling you, let it go already! 

“Satella”: I'm sorry, but this is something I simply cannot give up on. If you do as I say and cooperate, I won't hurt you. 

Conjuring several ice crystals, “Satella” pointed them in the direction of Subaru and Felt.]

—

Able: “Weaker then I remember…”

Olbart: “Scary!”

—

For a fleeting moment, laughter bridged kingdoms. The sight of Subaru flailing through danger, somehow still standing, had drawn smiles from nobles and commoners alike. But that brief spark faded as quickly as it came. The next scene—the ice crystals glinting in “Satella’s” hands, the cold edge in her voice—snuffed out the levity entirely. The tension returned heavier than before. Everyone, from emperors to urchins, felt the shift and went quiet. There was no more room for laughter. They sat back in uneasy silence, eyes fixed on the unfolding confrontation, bracing themselves for whatever came next.

—

[“Satella”: I have but one request to make of you: Return what is mine. My insignia's very important to me... 

Rom: If she were just another run-of-the-mill magic user, I wouldn't back down, but this one's trouble. 

Felt: What's your problem?! You're admitting defeat before we even start fighting?  

Rom: Young lady, so, uh, you're an elf, right? 

“Satella”: Not exactly. Technically speaking, I'm only a half-elf.  

Felt: Wait, seriously? Your hair. It's silver! Are you the--?!

Flailing her hand in urgent exasperation, “Stella” attempted to clear the air. 

“Satella”: It's an accidental resemblance! And to be honest, it causes me a lot of trouble.]

—

“A lot of trouble is an understatement,” was a common thought at the plight of looking like The Witch.

—

Felt: “Sorry sis…”

—

[Felt: I should've known better. You set me up, didn't you? 

Subaru: Huh? No, I didn't do anything. 

Felt: All that "I'm gonna return it to its owner" crap? That just made you more suspicious! 

“Satella”: What do you mean? Are you saying that you two aren't working together? 

Subaru stopped, noticing a flower pin on the half-elf’s chest. Just like last time, it had been a gift from Plum.]

—

Plum: “Hah?”

Raksha: “Seems she kept your gift Plum.”

Plum beamed at the praise as they all continued watching the confrontation unfold.

—

[Subaru: Her nature never changes, no matter how many times I start over in this world. 

Felt: Hey, jerk! What are you smirking about?! 

Subaru: Come on, hasn't this been enough? Give her insignia back already. And you, Sat-! Hurry up and get out of here! And try not to let anyone steal it again, okay? 

“Satella”: Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? Honestly, nothing you're doing makes any sense at all.]

—

Emilia: “It makes sense now…”

Subaru smiled at her.

Subaru: “I’m glad.”’

All he had ever wanted was to be understood, it seems like he was going to get it at the very least.

—

As everyone who had ever known Subaru in times of chaos, war, or despair watched the screen, they felt an all-too-familiar confusion stirring inside them. That same strange calm—the forced friendliness, the faint smile masking something deeper—was unmistakable. From the Shudraq who once dismissed his warnings, to the royal Camps who’d needed bribing to trust him, to the surviving soldiers of Todd’s company who’d seen that eerie composure before—all of them now understood what it truly meant. He wasn’t calm. He was remembering.

—

Jamal: “Shit… it’s the same bullshit as back then…!”

—

And with that quiet realization, a shiver ran through every witness who’d ever seen that expression—the look of someone who already knew exactly how things would end, and was pretending not to while dismissing others' confusion.

—

[Felt: I don't understand you, either! What's goin' on? Did you hit your head or somethin'?  

Still on edge from the last few deaths, Subaru had been continuously scanning the various walls and corners of the loothouse, and at last noticed a faint movement in the shadows behind “Satella”. 

Subaru: Hk-Puck! Shield her! 

Puck: That was fast thinking. Cutting it a bit closer than I expected.]

—

Petra: “Haha! Nice!”

Garfiel: “Yeah, Boss!”

Roswaal: “Goood jooob.”

—

Across the world, a rare wave of excitement broke out—cheers rising from every corner as Subaru’s quick thinking saved the moment. The Flanders trio smirked in reluctant approval, Cecilus whooped like a child, the Pleiades Battalion erupted with proud laughter at their commander’s reflexes, and in the Felt Camp, fists shot into the air as their lady shouted her brother’s praise louder than anyone else. For once, even cynics and soldiers alike shared the same thought—that was damn sharp.

—

Tanza: “Good job.”

—

Zarestia: “I approve.”

—

And just like that, Subaru’s third — and only second real — fight against the bowel hunter began.

—

[Subaru: You saved us! Nice one, Puck! Thank goodness it was before five, while you're still on duty! Thanks! 

Elsa: Well, well. That's a spirit, isn't it? How wonderful. I've never had the pleasure of cutting open a spirit's stomach before.]

—

Liliana: “Gross!”

Kiritaka: “I seriously don't like this crazy lady!”

Liliana: “I’m gonna write a song about her but it's gonna be super bad, just for her!”

Kiritaka: “Please don't sully your talent with her name…”

Liliana: “Then I’ll write one about this epic fight!”

Kiritaka: “Magnificent as always Liliana-san”

—

[Felt: Hey now, what do you mean by that?! 

Elsa: We can't really enter negotiations if the item's original owner is here now, can we? And because of that, I've changed my plans. I'm going to slaughter every last one of you.]

—

Kafma: “She means it, that is the look of a killer.”

Madelyn: “Ohh, ya friggin’ think?!”

Olbart: “Haha, scary.”

—

[Elsa: You failed to see your job all the way through to the end. You certainly talk a good game, but honestly, you do terrible work. I was hoping you were more than just another slum dweller.]

—

That did it. Everyone from the Nobels, to the very slum rats she insulted wanted to see that bitch die.

—

[Subaru: You bitch…Cut the crap! What kind of sicko gets their kicks from picking on a little kid, huh? You should be ashamed, you gut-slicing, sadistic woman! Felt is doing her best to stand her ground and live strong!]

—

Although many were still sour about Felt’s earlier words, not a single soul could deny the thrill of hearing their unspoken outrage shouted aloud by that reckless boy. His voice—cracking with fury and trembling with defiance—was a cathartic release for every powerless onlooker. Commoners who’d spent their lives swallowing their rage against cruelty and nobility alike found themselves cheering for him, forgetting for a moment that the fool on screen was yelling at a monster who could tear him apart in an instant.

—

Slum dweller: “Yeah!”

Slum dweller 2: “Ya tell her!”

—

[Subaru: 'Cause your plan didn't go your way, you think you can throw a tantrum and flip tables? Grow up, you pathetic spoiled brat! You should try to learn to value life a little more! 'Cause having your belly cut hurts! 

Elsa: Now what are you babbling about?]

—

But while the powerless rejoiced, those who knew better were on the edge of their seats.

Abel slammed his fist against the armrest. “What in OD’s name are you doing, you fool?!”

Olbart whistled low. “This brat’s got a death wish.”

Madelyn snarled. “This dragon knows he ain’t strong enough to be talkin’ smack right now!”

Groovy: “Crazy fucking idiot!”

Goz: “What in Od’s name is he doing?!”

Even Zikr—usually his staunchest defender—could only mutter, “For once, I must agree…”

—

And across the nations, that same panic rippled outward like wildfire. The Crusch Camp froze—Crusch’s eyes wide, Russell gripping his sleeve so tightly it crumpled in his hand.

Although for Russell it was less about a concern for the boy, and more the damage to the capital should Subaru fail to stop the Bowl Hunter.

Crusch: “W-what is he doing?!”

Russell: “I don’t know, but if he keeps talking, we’ll find out.”

Felix: “Nyaaa! Subaru-kun needs to learn ta’ keep his mouth shut!”

Wilhelm: “It was always one of his greatest flaws…”

The collective reply—half shout, half groan—was universal: “You think!?”

—

Over in the Anastasia Camp, Mimi jumped up, tail bristling with panic.

Mimi: “What the Od is he doing?! She’s gonna kill ya, Mini-boss!!!”

Tivey flinched at the screen. “I can’t watch this…”

Anastasia sighed, though her hand had gone pale around her teacup. “He’s got guts, I’ll give ‘im that—but guts alone don’t stop knives.”

Julius sat frozen, one hand over his mouth. “I knew he talked in the worst of moments, but…”

Anastasia cut in softly, “You didn’t think he’d be this foolish.”

He said nothing—because what could he say? His chest was tight, his throat dry, and his only thought was a desperate one.

Julius: “I just hope he doesn’t get himself killed…”

—

And so, as the fool on screen shouted his heart out, every soul watching him—whether noble, warrior, or god—could feel their pulse quicken in terrified admiration.

—

[Subaru: I'm in the process of letting the justice and chivalry I never knew I had denounce all the unfairness in the world! And, what I consider "unfair" is you, this situation, and...Okay, folks, ready for the fun part?  

Subaru: There! That should buy us enough time. All right! Get her, Puck! 

Puck: I hope your brilliant display of awkwardness lives through the ages. Here we go! My turn! We haven't had the chance to introduce ourselves, have we? My name's Puck. Now do your best to remember it on the way to your grave!]

—

For a heartbeat, the entire world held still—then, as Puck’s voice roared to life and Subaru’s grin finally made sense, a wave of realization swept across nations like a sudden gust of wind.

—

Able exhaled through his nose, tension leaving his shoulders as he thought, “So that was your plan, fool… reckless, but calculated..”

Olbart clapped his knees, cackling. “Knew the brat had somethin’ up his sleeve! Hah, had me sweatin’ for nothin’!”

Madelyn scoffed but couldn’t hide her smirk. “This dragon takes back what this dragon said…”

Even Zikr, smiling faintly, said, “As expected of Miss Natsumi.”

Kafma: “Impressive if not unorthodox.”

Moguro: “Indeed.”

—

Across the Camps, that same relief took root—half disbelief, half admiration.

Crusch leaned back, a weary smile softening her face. “So he was thinking ahead…”

Felix flopped into his seat. “Nyahaha! Subaru-kun, ya scared the fur right off me!”

Wilhelm allowed himself a faint chuckle. “Good job Subaru-dono.”

Russell just sighed, “I’m going to lose years off my life watching this kid.”

Crusch: “Understandble, but Russell-san, for what reason have you paid us a visit?”

…

—

In Anastasia’s Camp, laughter rippled through the air.

Mimi jumped and cheered. “Mini-boss planned it! I knew it!”

Anastasia grinned. “See? Even he could pull of brilliance if ya give ‘im five seconds to think.”

Julius, hand over his heart, whispered with relief, “Thank Od…”

—

The Pleiades Battalion erupted next.

Hiain howled with laughter. “Ha! Bro’s got us good again!”

Idra grinned ear to ear. “He never changes!”

Waitz: “Haha! Never doubted im’ for a second!”

Gustav only folded his arms, pride hidden beneath his stern tone. “Foolish… but commendable.”

—

And from the slums of Lugunica to the merchant halls of Kararagi, from royal courts to common taverns, cheers rose in unison—relieved, amazed, and more than a little exasperated.

The boy who seemed to stumble through life had done it again. Against all reason, against all fear, he had planned for victory.

—

[Rom: Did we get her, or what?! 

Subaru: Don't say things like that, Old Man! 

Elsa: One should always be prepared.

“Satella”: Don't underestimate a user of spirit arts!]

—

Petra: “Yeah!”

At that, Emilia flushed with a mix of pride and guilt. It felt strange—watching her past self win, knowing how that victory would soon unravel. When she wasn’t weighed down by what came after, she found herself quietly enjoying the moment, even cheering along with Petra. But as her gaze drifted toward Subaru—his shoulders tense, his hands fidgeting though he already knew the outcome—her heart softened. Despite everything, he was still nervous for her. And somehow, that made her smile.

—

[Puck: You're well accustomed to battle, for a girl. 

Elsa: "A girl", huh? My, it's been a while since I've been regarded in such simple terms. 

Puck: Well, from my perspective, all opponents are little more than babies. Still, you're so strong, I almost pity you.]

—

Holy king: “To be praised by a spirit, even if in such form, is truly an honor. 

Tiriena: “I wonder if she deserves it.”

Although to others the archbishops' words would ring true, to the king of Gusteko and all the attendants and servants who served their nation and the spirits with reverence her words did nothing but annoy.

Holy king: “Do not speak such heresy, no spirit’s actions can be judged by a human, not even you Tiriena.” 

Tiriena: “Apologies.”

Tiriena: “Tch, they are all much too strict.”

—

Vague: “If this isn’t proof that a spirit’s praise is meaningless, then I don’t know what is.”

—

[Elsa: I'm deeply touched to be praised by a spirit.]

—

Zarestia: “That cat does not speak for me, woman.”

Although no one would hear her, the spirit of wind did not want to be lumped in with a spirit who would praise such a disgusting creature.

— 

[Subaru: If this thing turns into a battle of attrition, I'd say we stand a pretty good chance. 

Rom: Well, for a spirit, the real battle is how long they can stay corporeal. 

Subaru: …That's right, it must be almost five!

Elsa: And when we were both having so much fun, too. What a bore. 

Puck: Just one of the drawbacks of the job. When you're a ladies' man, the girls won't give you the chance to sleep. But you know, staying up late is bad for your skin, so I'd say it's about time we wrap this up. 

Elsa: –Huh? 

The attacker looked down, checking on her (lack of) mobility, only to find one of her feet caught squarely in a piece of ice.]

—

Plum: “Yeah!”

Kadomon: “Come on… get her!”

—

A rush of cheers swept through the onlookers as Elsa’s advance finally faltered. The sight of the merciless assassin caught mid-stride, her poise broken for the first time, sent a jolt of vindication through every watcher who had spent the last minutes holding their breath.

—

Garfiel shot to his feet, pumping a fist. “Ya! Princess ain’t that easy—take that, ya damn witch!”

Before he could finish, Frederica’s palm met the back of his head with a crisp smack.

Frederica: “Language.”

The others around them only smirked knowingly—no one missed the proud gleam in her eyes as she watched the fight unfold.

—

For once, the predator was on the defensive, and the prey was fighting back with cunning and grace.

From taverns to Camps, from nobles’ halls to the slums of Lugunica, a collective wave of relief rolled through the watchers. The tension that had gripped them for so long finally broke into laughter, applause, and held breaths turning into cheers.

At last—finally—it felt like the tide had turned.

—

[Puck: Didn't think I was just throwing those around at random, did you? 

Elsa: Looks like I've been had. Oh, my.

Puck: Say goodnight! 

What looks to be the killing blow, the final ice shard misses its target, as the Bowel Hunter had leapt off, leaving half of her foot stuck in the ice. 

Elsa: My, how lovely! I thought I was going to die.]

—

A collective groan swept through every corner of the world watching. Just when victory had seemed certain—when the monster was finally cornered—the assassin slipped free once again. Cheers turned to silence, then to uneasy murmurs. Faces fell, hands gripped seats, and the familiar dread crept back in. No one wanted to admit it, but they all felt the same sinking thought: it wasn’t over yet.

—

Spica: “uahh!”

Cecilus: “This is not how this story should go, so don’t let me down Boss!!!”

Arakiya: “So close…”

—

[Puck: But you are a tricky girl, so I don't find that sort of thing very impressive.

“Satella”: Puck, can you keep going? 

Puck: Sorry... but I'm sleepy. I think I underestimated her. My mana's gone, so I'm done. 

“Satella”: Don't worry, I'll take care of things out here so you can rest. Thank you for your help.  

Puck: Remember: If anything happens to you, I'll act according to my contract. If it comes down to it, call me, even if you have to squeeze out my Od.]

—

Eridna: “I have heard of spirit contracts with a death clause, though never spoken of with such grave warning.”

Anastasia: “That so? Juli, ya got somethin’ like that?”

Julius: “Not at all. Should I or my spirits perish, it’s simply agreed that we would grieve and move on. Though I would rather not dwell on such possibilities…”

Eridna: “Then I must say, I am quite curious…”

Halibel: “I’m sure they’ll get to explainin’ it soon enough.”

Tivey: “I would like to know as well.”

—

Vague: “Shut it, creepy cat. No one cares about your damn contract.”

The mad prince muttered, eyes fixed on the screen.

—

Across the nations, spirit users and scholars alike shared a rare moment of unified curiosity. A death clause in a spirit contract—so intimate, so final—was nearly unheard of. What kind of bond required one’s swear to follow the other’s death? The question lingered heavy in the air, unsettling and fascinating all the same.

—

[Elsa: Aww, you're going away? Well, that's terribly unfortunate. 

Burning a piece of ice to her foot, so that it may prevent any loss of mobility from the damage taken, Elsa resumed her blade dance against the Witch look-alike. 

Rom: I know this is pretty interesting, Felt, but we can't afford to just sit around watching anymore. 

Felt: Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. If we're gonna make a run for it, we need to get moving right now. 

Felt: Oh, and about before… Well, I guess you kinda saved me. 

This last line was directed at Subaru, who couldn’t help but be stunned.  

Felt: But only just a little bit, okay? Also, don't call me a little kid! I am 15 years old, you know! That can't be much younger than you, jerk. 

Subaru: Well, actually, I'll be turning 18 this year. 

Felt: Huh?! No way! Really?! 'Cause you don't even look like you're old enough to shave yet!]

—

There were a few chuckles at that, and of course, no one could deny that to be the truth, as everyone has been referring to him as a boy up till this point.

—

[Elsa and “Satella” are still locked in battle, the latter now at a disadvantage due to the lack of her spirit companion. Eventually, she gets knocked out as a shelf comes down on top of her. 

Rom: Here I come! 

Elsa: Oh, how rude! Don't cut in on someone else's dance! 

Rom: If you wanna dance, I'll show you the best dancing you've ever seen! Here we go! Round and round!  

Rom: Huh? What in the--???]

—

Felt: “Hk—!”

Rom: “Don’t worry kid, ya know I end up ok.”

Ezzo: “Thank Od for that…”

Felt: “Ya’ I know…”

But that didn't change the worry nor rage that this moment of near death brought up.

—

Of course, for those who lacked the comfort of knowing this was the successful loop—like the Wise Men’s Council, who, without word from the Sword Saint, believed this path to be the fated end—or the countless others kept in the dark about what truly transpired, the scene unfolding felt final. To them, this was not a turning point but a dead end—and the first to fall would be the giant.

—

[Elsa: You're so strong, I was able to stand on your club. Now... 

Felt: Not gonna happen! 

The young burglar throws a knife, momentarily stopping the descent of Elsa’s blade, but the hit still connects. 

Felt: Rom-Ji!!! 

Elsa: You bad girl...You've neither the resolve nor the strength to fight. You'd have been better off using your small stature to hide away in the corner.

Subaru: Damn, we're finished! There's really nothing I can do. I'll have to use Return by Death and start over…]

—

Beatrice: “Don’t you dare, I suppose! Don’t you ever dare, Subaru!” Her tiny hands shook as her voice rose, trembling between anger and fear. “Don’t you ever dare, in fact!!!”

Emilia: “Subaru, no! Don’t you dare!” She leaned forward instinctively, reaching toward the screen as if she could stop him. “You always try to carry everything alone—it’s not fair to you!”

Otto: “Natsuki-san! Don’t even think about it!” His voice cracked, panic breaking through his usual composure. “You’re not fixing anything by doing that again—you’re just making the rest of us pay the price with you!”

Roswaal: “Mmmm… so you had considered it at some pooooint, Subaru-kun?” His tone was smooth yet hollow, caught between amusement and grief. “To wager your very being for everyone else—reckless, but oh-so fitting of you. If only it truly lasted…”

As the implications sank in, the room erupted with unease. Meili froze mid-breath, Frederica covered her mouth in horror, Annerose gasped softly, and even Patrasche nudged closer to him—protective and terrified all at once.

Subaru: “Calm down, you guys! I didn’t do it!”

Garfiel: “We know ya made it out, Boss—but that ain’t what we mean…”

They all knew he would survive. That wasn’t the point. The knowledge itself—that he could make such a choice—settled into everyone’s hearts like a shadow. And then came the dawning, dreadful understanding.

As every gaze turned toward him, Subaru looked back, confused by the fear in their eyes.

Subaru: “…I don’t know what to tell you guys.”

Beatrice: “Then tell us you never used that disgusting power, in fact!!!”

His expression fell, eyes darkening, though he never looked away.

Subaru: “…You already know I can’t.”

Emilia: “Hk—!”

Beatrice: “B-but—!”

Otto: “W–what the hell are you talking about, Natsuki-san!?”

Subaru: “I’m sorry. I’m not proud of it, but… there were times when I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Meili: “Maaakes sense~.”

Garfiel: “The hell are ya talkin’ about, brat!? How’s that supposed ta make sense?!”

Meili: “Just sayin’~ that’s what I would do~.”

Subaru: “And you never should.”

Silence fell again. Subaru looked around the room, then sighed deeply.

Subaru: “Look… I know this is awful to hear. I hated it too. But before you decide I’m some kind of monster, I need to make one thing clear.”

Emilia: “No one thinks that—”

Subaru: “I know, Emilia-tan. Just—listen, okay?”

He took a breath, voice steadying.

Subaru: “I swear to all of you… I will never use this power out of selfishness. I’ll only do it when there’s no other way forward.”

He saw their faces—ready to argue, to protest, to demand more. So he rushed to finish.

Subaru: “Wait—wait! I know it’s not a perfect promise, but I mean it. I only ever use this curse when someone dies—when I can’t accept losing a friend or someone I’m responsible for. That’s the line I’ll never cross. Is that… acceptable?”

He smiled faintly, proud of the vow he’d just made—only to be met with silence. Not anger, not relief. Just quiet horror, pity, and the sharp ache of realization reflected in every eye watching him.

As they sat there in silence, the screen kept playing.

—

[Subaru: No... I don't wanna feel that pain again! I don't wanna die!...I guess, as long as I have life...all I can do is fight with everything I've got!]

—

They wanted to cheer for him—for his courage, his defiance, his refusal to give up even when fate itself tried to crush him.

But how could they celebrate the same determination that had just led him to admit he would throw away his life for them?

Ram: “Barusu,” she began sharply, her glare colder than her usual teasing tone, “let me make one thing very clear. Neither I, nor anyone here, ever wants you to go that far for us. Do you understand?”

Her words landed heavy in the silence. Subaru met her eyes, then turned as Rem’s voice cut through, steadier than anyone expected.

Rem: “Listen. I don’t know you like the others do, but… do you remember what I told you back in Vollachia?”

Subaru: “How could I forget,” he murmured under his breath.

Rem: “Then let me remind you anyway.” Her voice trembled as she clenched her fists. “I told you to stop trying to be a hero—that you’d end up dead if you kept it up. And now… now it seems you did. The truth is, I hate that I survived because of it. I hate that it took that for me to live.”

The room fell silent as she went on, her words spilling faster, fiercer.

Rem: “So I’ll say it again. The fact that you can’t die doesn’t change anything. You are not a hero, Subaru. No matter who you save or what you endure, you’re a person first. And I’m sick and tired of watching you sacrifice yourself for me!”

Her voice broke at the end, and the truth of her anger—of her guilt—hung in the air.

When she’d woken up without her memories, she’d hated the strange boy who smelled of death and never stopped smiling.

It had terrified her, how he threw himself into danger again and again—for her, for anyone.

Only later, after the siege, did she realize: he had called himself her hero, and to him, that word had always meant “someone who sacrifices everything.”

So she had fought that idea with all she had, not knowing what those words truly meant to him—only knowing she couldn’t stand to see him hurt himself anymore.

Subaru: “…Alright.”

Rem: “Huh?”

Everyone: “Hah?”

Ram: “Do you mean it, Barusu?”

Garfiel: “Y-yeah, Boss—ya serious?”

Subaru: “No.” He gave a tired grin. “I said ‘alright,’ Rem. I’m not your hero. And honestly? I’m proud of that.”

Rem: “!?”

Subaru: “Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly, waving his hands in that frantic, familiar way. “I care about you—a lot. Number three in my heart and all—”

A few heads tilted, unsure whether to laugh or scold him, but he pressed on.

Subaru: “But there’s something I know that you don’t. I know what those words mean. I know what I’ve done, and why I’ve done it. So here’s the deal, for everyone.”

He straightened his back, eyes clear.

Subaru: “You can sit there and worry, but I’ve done my best with what I had—and I’m proud of it. Sure, I’ve made mistakes, and I regret plenty. But I know what drives me, even if it looks wrong from the outside. So wait. Just… wait until you understand the full picture.”

He paused, scanning their faces—each one tense, afraid, hopeful.

Subaru: “And if, after everything, you still think I was wrong… then I promise, I’ll never use that power like that again.”

Silence followed.

No one quite knew whether to feel relieved or heartbroken—because somehow, both felt right.

As they all gave reluctant agreements, Subaru thought back to what he said: "You're right, I’m not your hero.”

It was true—he had left her behind when she’d finally come back.

He’d chosen to do the right thing, to become everyone’s hero instead of hers.

And though that choice tore at him in ways he could never put into words, Subaru knew it had been the right one.

Deep down, he believed that both Rems—the one who loved him and the one who still could not remember—would have been just as proud.

—

For others, like the royal selection Camps there were horrified reactions to the idea of strategic suicide, while groups like the wisemen council, the Gusteken royalty, and the Vollachien generals, all felt nothing but fear at the prospect. 

—

Gustav: “Although I understand, I find the idea revolting. I am glad he decided against it.”

Hiain: “thank Od!”

Waitz: “I thought Schwarz-sama was gonna do something stupid.”

Idra: “Yeah…”

—

Vague: “Oh my, so he considered it…?”

—

Zarestia: “Tch.”

—

Bordeaux: “He better not!”

The outburst echoed sharply through the chamber, drawing startled glances from the knights and attendants nearby. The outburst was uncharacteristic for the usually composed noble, and it carried an edge of genuine fear. If even he—one of the most calculating voices in the Council—was shaken, then what were they supposed to feel?

Murmurs spread among the gathered retainers, rippling like unease through a still pond. The notion that the boy might truly give his life again—willingly—was enough to chill even hardened men.

Noticing the tension rising, Miklotov placed a steadying hand on his colleague’s arm, his voice low but firm.

Miklotov: “Still your concern. We cannot afford to let this fear sow dissent among us.”

Bordeaux: “Tch… understood,” he muttered, though the defiance in his eyes betrayed how hard it was to obey.

The two sat in uneasy silence, the weight of their authority doing little to ease the heaviness pressing down on the room. Even the most disciplined among them could not help but feel it—that creeping dread born from watching a boy so ready to burn himself away for others.

—

Liliana: “Ohh man, I’m glad Subaru-sama chose to fight!”

Kiritaka: “Thank Od…”

—

Fred: “You have to fight! Don’t give up!”

Ralfiel: “Yeah!”

—

And as the world forced itself to set aside that dreadful thought, turning its attention back to the unfolding battle, there remained those who simply couldn’t.

No matter how fierce the clash on screen grew, the unease in their chests refused to fade—an instinctive, gnawing fear that this boy’s courage would develop into madness. 

—

Heinkel: “Fuck, this monster better forget that idea, for all our sakes.”

—

[Subaru: Haidara! 

As this warcry was belted out, Subaru launched himself towards Felt, successfully throwing the frozen girl out of harm’s way, just in time for the half-elf to rejoin the fight. 

Subaru: Hey, are you gonna be all right?! 

Felt: Why'd you risk your life for...? 

Subaru: Never mind, just listen to me carefully, Felt. I'm gonna buy us some time, find a way to give you an opening somehow, and when I do, I want you to run as fast as you can!]

—

Felt: “Thank you bro…”

—

[Felt: Not a chance! I'm s'posed to tuck my tail between my legs and run? 

Subaru: Yeah, that's right! Stick out your butt, tuck in your tail, and run! You're 15, and I'm 18. And that means that you're probably the youngest one out of everybody here. So it's a given that we're gonna pick the method most likely to keep you alive and get you outta this place. You understand?!  

Felt: Give me a break! You were cowering in fear just a minute ago! 

Subaru: Well, that was then. And this is now. Don't worry about me. Everything's fine.]

—

Julius: “It’s just like you my friend. I am glad you didn’t forget.”

—

Tanza: “…”

The girl couldn’t help but smile at his care.

—

Beatrice: “He should have just gotten himself out, I suppose…”

—

Mizelda: “Haha! I would expect nothing less!”

Utakata: “Yeah! Su is always prioritising the kids even then too!”

Flop: “Yup, that’s Husband-kun for you!”

—

Ezzo: “So he saved you?”

Felt: “Yeah.”

Ezzo blinked, taken aback by all of this lunacy. He had never heard this story—not from his lady, not from Rom, not from anyone. To think she had been saved by the infamous hero, and this was the context behind it… it felt unreal.

He’d met the man only once, not long ago. He had even hoped—foolishly, in hindsight—to impress Subaru with his knowledge of the Books of the Dead, proud of the discovery Subaru himself had unearthed. Yet that moment had slipped through his fingers the instant their companion died. It was so sudden, he’d thought. It made no sense, he’d told himself.

But now he wondered.

Maybe that “suddenness” wasn’t unique at all. Maybe it was simply the natural cadence of Natsuki Subaru’s existence—the way he threw his actions like stones into still water, rippling the world around him before anyone could brace themselves using this ability.

It had taken Felt only one encounter to decide the boy acted without warning and without sense.

And Ezzo—after a single meeting—had thought the exact same thing.

Ezzo: “This is crazy…”

And to Ezzo, this was an ability, no matter what the world insisted on calling it. His curious mind could not—refused to—see Return by Death as a curse. How could he, when he understood what it meant? What it demanded? What it accomplished?

Yet that very understanding made him fear it all the same.

Still, he would never speak these thoughts aloud. Felt already carried far too much on her shoulders. There was no reason to upset her further—not with the weight of the boy’s unseen suffering, nor with Ezzo’s own quiet, unsettling fascination.

On the side, the sword saint was quietly thanking his friend for saving his lady. 

—

[Subaru: Take this! This is it! Now! Run! 

Elsa: You think I'll let her go? 

With nary a moment of hesitation, Subaru kicked up a table, stopping Elsa’s blade.  

Subaru: Whoa, I'm awesome! But that hurt the tips of my toes more than I expected…  

The boy is quickly overpowered though, and as Felt is seen running away from the loothouse, he’s thrown to the floor once again. 

Subaru: It looks like you let one get away.]

—

Able was so annoyed, why would he antagonize the assassin? 

Able: “…”

—

[Elsa: For once, I'm feeling a tiny bit annoyed. 

“Satella”: Hey! Don't forget about me!]

—

Garfiel: “C’mon, Princess! Show ’er how it’s done!”

Petra: “Yeah, Emilia-sama! You can win!”

Annerose: “Emily! You can do it!”

Even with the heavy worry still hanging over them — even with the dread of the truth they’d learned moments ago — the Camp’s youngest and softest hearts couldn’t help themselves. They cheered anyway.

Because upset or not, dread or not, these were still their friends.

And children, no matter how shaken, will always root for the people they love.

—

[Elsa: I hope you have some other attacks because I've grown tired of that one. Do you think you can still keep me amused? 

Subaru: If you've got some ultimate power hidden somewhere in your bag of tricks, I'm thinkin' now might be a good time. 

“Satella”: Well, I do have a trump card. But if I use it, I'll be the only one who's left standing. 

Subaru: Whoa, easy! Now don't do anything that'll blow us both up, okay? 

“Satella”: I have no intention of using it while you're still here, doing your best…]

—

Cecilus was cackling with delight — yet beneath that thunderous excitement was a knot of real worry. He had always known Subaru possessed some strange ability to twist fate, but only now had he fully understood the price it demanded. And even Cecilus, lover of absurd tales and glorious battles, was getting tired of this genre turning into a horror show every time his friend appeared on screen. It wasn’t nearly as fun when the “fodder” for the plot was Boss himself.

So when the tone finally shifted — when the blood-stained tragedy gave way to something closer to adventure, even romance — Cecilus seized it with both hands. If fate insisted on making a story out of Subaru, then Cecilus would shout down the ending until it bent the way he wanted. Until his friend got the victory he deserved.

Cecilus: “Yeah, Boss! Go on, impress the princess! Hahaha!”

Spica: “Uuah!”

Her little squeak was half panic, half hope — but very much a cheer nonetheless.

—

Yorna: “My, my… their affection is blossoming right before mine eyes. To witness it from its earliest sprout to this moment… truly, it warms the heart.”

Tanza: “I agree, it's fun to see.”

—

Wilhelm: “Young love…”

—

[Once more, Subaru remembered the reason he was here, still fighting in this loothouse he dreaded–he had made a promise. In a way, that promise had been erased, but to him, who could still remember its forging, it existed as a way to repay the kind stranger who had reached out when no one else would. 

Subaru: I didn't see anything just now. 

“Satella”: Huh? 

Subaru: None of that whole conversation ever happened! I finally remembered why I'm here in the first place! I'll kill you, you shitbag! Then you won't have to play your trump card! I'll blow you away and get...a happy ending!]

—

Gustav: “This is the conviction I, in my capacity, remember.”

Hiain: “Bro is so cool!!!”

Idra: “Haha! This is awesome!"

Weitz: “ Schwartz is amazing as always!”

Across the battalion, shoulders straightened, eyes sharpened. This—this—was the Schwartz they knew. The one who stood up bleeding, terrified, and furious… and still roared back at fate with everything he had.

—

In the Anastasia Camp, admiration bloomed before anyone could stop it.

Julius’s eyes shone first—bright, unmistakably so. For a man who prided himself on dignity, he did a terrible job hiding it now.

Anastasia caught it immediately.

Anastasia: “Oh my, Julius~ Yer starin’ awful hard. Should I be jealous of Natsuki-kun takin’ yer heart?”

Julius nearly choked on air, flustered in a way utterly unbefitting the Finest Knight.

Julius: “Th-that is not—! I simply recognize the strength of his conviction!”

Halibel leaned in with a grin, tail flicking lazily.

Halibel: “Nah, nah—don’t hide it. Su-san’s a riot, but he’s the real deal. Takes guts t’ spit in fate’s eye like that, especially for a lady.”

Julius, recovering from his embarrassment, straightened his posture and spoke with rare, unguarded sincerity.

Julius: “Call it what you will. Even so… yes. His resolve is admirable. Reckless, maddening—but admirable. I have never once seen him abandon what he believes in.”

Anastasia chuckled softly, watching the screen as the boy they all underestimated once again threw himself forward, ideals blazing.

Anastasia: “Mm-hm. Gotta gree with ya’ Juls.”

—

Garfiel was the first to erupt—loud, fierce, and full of pride.

Garfiel: “THAT’S IT, BOSS!! YA SHOW HER!!”

His eyes were shining like twin suns, wide with admiration—and something else.

Garfiel: “Hah! Even in a fight ya still pull somethin’ all romantic-like… damn, Boss, yer killin’ me here!”

He practically vibrated with excitement, chest puffed out as if he had thrown the line himself.

Beside him, Sylphie pressed her hands together, cheeks warming faintly.

Sylphie: “…It really is romantic…”

Quiet, whispered only to herself—but full of wonder, like she was watching a fairy tale unfold.

Emilia didn’t say a word.

She simply glowed—bright, soft, radiant.

A warmth bloomed in her chest that she didn’t have the vocabulary to name, only the certainty that Subaru was… Subaru, and that was enough to make her eyes shine.

Clind, composed as ever, adjusted his spectacles and inclined his head.

Clind: “Well done, Subaru-sama, approval.”

A rare thing—subtle praise, neatly rolled into one immaculate sentence.

And together—loud, quiet, flustered, or reserved—they all cheered for him, each in their own unmistakable way.

—

Cecilus practically exploded with excitement, throwing his arms skyward as if the gods themselves had delivered him a gift.

Cecilus: “YES!! Exactly like this! THIS is how a story should unfold!”

He was already pacing in circles, grinning like a maniac.

Cecilus: “A bold declaration! A reckless vow! A COOL LINE at the PERFECT MOMENT! Hah! Truly, Boss is shaping up to be a worthy rival indeed!”

He slapped his knee, then pointed dramatically at the screen.

Cecilus: “You see, Arakiya, THIS is why people must say cool things when it counts! Because only those who proclaim their spirit aloud can carve their names into the legend of the world!! And Boss—ohhh, Boss is doing it BEAUTIFULLY!”

Arakiya, dead-eyed and exhausted, dragged a hand down her face.

Arakiya: “…Cecilus-sama, please… calm down. He is clearly moments from death.”

But Cecilus only laughed louder.

Cecilus: “THAT MAKES IT EVEN BETTER! Nothing makes a cool line cooler than saying it while nearly dying!”

Next to them, little Spica clutched her hands to her chest, eyes sparkling like a child watching fireworks.

Spica: “Uuah…! Aau…!”

Her soft, breathy sounds trembled with awe and admiration.

Arakiya groaned.

Arakiya: “Don’t encourage him.”

But Cecilus puffed his chest out proudly.

Cecilus: “Encourage me MORE! For today, my destined friend proves himself again! Ahh! This plot is perfect!”

And as he drowned on and on, Arakiya kept them walking in the direction of the fortified city — now visible in the distance. 

—

Mizelda clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling.

Mizelda: “Ahh, how romantic!”

Taritta: “Sister…”

Her voice carried all the warning of a woman who knew exactly where this was going.

But Mizelda only leaned forward with a mischievous grin.

Mizelda: “Hey, Flop-san! Why don’t you show such conviction when speaking to my lovely sister?”

Flop: “Ah—?!”

He spun in a full circle, panicked, desperately seeking rescue. When he turned to Taritta, she deliberately looked away with exaggerated offense.

Taritta, regaining her earlier confidence, let the tease play out.

Taritta: “Yes, Flop. Where is your declaration?”

Medium jumped in at once, elbowing him hard.

Medium: “Hahaha! Yeah, bro, where is it, huh?!”

Flop practically folded in half, clutching his wounded pride.

Flop: “H-Husband-kun, I just can’t seem to measure up…!”

That was all Taritta could take—her teasing instantly melted, and she hurried to comfort him, cupping his cheeks apologetically.

Taritta: “I’m sorry, Flop… I’m sorry, truly… Don’t be sad.”

She said while smiling.

Mizelda laughed behind her hand. Medium snorted. Flop sniffled dramatically.

But relief washed over the group as the screen shifted scenes, sparing the poor man from further torment—or from needing to come up with a declaration to rival the one they’d just witnessed.

—

[Elsa: Energetic, huh? Too bad. 

Subaru: You black widow! 

Elsa: Well, there's no doubt you'll be the first one caught in my web. 

An ice spear shot out, covering Subaru’s flank. 

Subaru: Nice cover!...Dammit! How do you like this?!

Harkening back to the 2nd loop’s battle, Subaru feigned an overhead strike before delivering a roundhouse kick.]

—

Olbart: “Hoho, Impressive use of past knowlage.”

Moguro: “It is not sufficient.”

Olbart: “Still fun ta’ watch ya’ tin can!”

—

[Elsa: I've got you now. 

But the assassin, more cautious than last time, managed to block it.  

A blade was raised, and-]

—

Across the world, breath tightened in countless throats—because to nearly everyone watching, this had to be a doomed loop. The Council of Wise Men, Miklotov tense and Bordeaux already bracing for tragedy, leaned forward as if awaiting a foregone conclusion. The Anastasia Camp went silent, even Halibel’s grin fading while Julius stood frozen mid-breath, eyes wide with dread, and Ricardo lowered his head with grim understanding. The Flanders Trio—Deltaro, Toto, and Manfred—held themselves rigid, resignation already creeping into their eyes. In Pristella, Liliana and Kiritaka were holding onto each other in fear and desperation while the children watching wanted to cry. The Pleiades Battalion—Gustav, Hiain, Idra, and Weitz—stared unblinking with fear and suspense. The Crusch Camp fell into a grim hush; Crusch clasped her hands tightly, Felix’s tail bristled, Wilhelm’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache, and even Russell had no words. From the Nine Divine Generals, Cecilus (for once) stopped laughing, Arakiya stiffened, Madelyn tugged nervously at her hair, and Zikr muttered a quiet prayer. The Shudraqians—Mizelda, Taritta, and the gathered warriors—sat stone-still, as if movement might tip fate in the wrong direction. Vincent’s generals paused; Olbart’s usual cackling died, Yorna’s — somewhere else — fan lowered, and even the most battle-hardened soldiers leaned forward in grim expectation. And scattered across Lugunica—from the slum dwellers in the capital, to the merchant stalls of the Kararagi refugees, to the knights stationed in distant outposts—every last person who had witnessed the boy’s previous “dead endings” tightened their grip on whatever hope remained. Because to nearly all the world, the Bowel Hunter’s raised blade meant only one thing: Subaru Natsuki was about to die once more.

—

Chapter Text

—

[???: That's enough.]

—

With Cecilus and the others:

Cecilus: “OOH, THAT LI—!”

Arakiya: “Wait, that voi—”

Spica: “Uu—!?”

All three burst out at once—Cecilus thrilled, Arakiya startled, Spica chiming in with a high “Uu”—before the screen’s sound crushed their reactions.

—

Able: “Is that—”

His pupils shrank, his breath hitching, but the sound cut him off before the name could form.

—

In Garkla, among the Shudraq and siblings:

Medium: “Huh—?!”

Her brow scrunched in confusion, mouth still open when the next line from the screen swallowed her voice.

—

In the Astrea manor:

Felt: “REIN—! Hahaha, Finally!!”

She shot halfway to her feet, fist pumping, cheering for him before the continuation of the scene cut her joy short.

—

In the Anastasia Camp:

Julius: “That voice… I recogni—”

Awe lit his eyes, but the sound from the theatre room rolled right over the rest.

—

In Pristella, with Liliana and Kiritaka:

Liliana: “A-ah! That voi—”

Kiritaka: “Could that be Sir—”

Both leaned forward at once, their surprise sliced clean off as the projection pressed on.

—

In the royal capital, by Kadomon’s appa stall:

Plum: “Daddy!, that’s Rei—!”

Kadomon: “Hold on, is that the—”

Raksha: “No way, that’s really—”

—

Todd: “That voice—lucky bastard.“

—

[The ceiling collapsed, and from the rubble emerged a new? figure.  

???: Looks like I cut it pretty close, but I'm glad I made it in time. Now...  

Elsa: I know you. 

Reinhard: What do you say? Shall we put an end to this?  

(Flashback) 

Felt: Someone! Anyone! Isn't there anybody who can hear me?! Damn it! Please! Please! Someone--! Someone help! She's-She's gonna kill him! Oof… 

Reinhard: Very well. I'll help you.  

Subaru: Reinhard?]

—

The moment the Sword Saint stepped out of the rubble, the Emilia Camp exploded.

Garfiel: “YEAH!! Boss, ya got the Sword Saint on yer side!!”

His whole body shook with wild, star-eyed excitement, fists pumping like a kid seeing his hero arrive.

Meili: “Yaaay~ Onii-san is saved~”

Petra: “H-He really came! Reinhard-sama really came!”

Tears shimmered in her eyes — half joy, half disbelief.

Roswaal: “Mm-hmhm… as expected. The timing is simply… magnificent.”

Otto: “Thank the gods—! I—I swear, I haven’t breathed in thirty seconds!”

He sagged forward, hands on his knees, looking like he might collapse from the sudden release of tension.

Emilia pressed her hands to her mouth, amethyst eyes bright.

“Reinhard…”

Her voice trembled — not in fear, but in overwhelming relief.

And beside her, Subaru simply stared at the screen, a tiny smile forming as the inevitable dawned on him.

Reinhard had arrived.

And everyone knew: the nightmare was over.

—

Liliana bolted out of Kiritaka’s arms before he could even react.

Fluttering hair, she sprinted straight back into the damaged transmission tower, practically leaping over debris as she scrambled up the stairs.

Kiritaka: “L-Liliana!? Wait—Miss Liliana, what are you doing!?”

Kiritaka rushed after her, breathless and bewildered.

But she didn’t hear a word of it.

Bursting into the half-wrecked transmission room, Liliana skidded to the central console, grabbed the long metal table for stability, and slammed her hand down on the crystal interface that controlled the structure’s broadcast.

Mana surged. The device hummed alive.

Before Kiritaka could reach her, she snatched the speaking funnel with both hands, pulled it close—

—and screamed into the entire city’s broadcast system:

Liliana:

“HE’S HERE—!! The Sword Saint has arrived!! Everyone listen!! Justice itself has descended from the heavens to save the day! Reinhard-sama is on the scene!!”

Her voice, bright and trembling with explosive excitement, echoed across Priestella like a victory fanfare.

Kiritaka froze in the doorway, utterly stunned.

—

Liliana’s ecstatic broadcast hit Priestella like a summer lightning strike—and the city erupted.

Every riverside walkway, every balcony overlooking the clear waterways, every bustling market stall—

burst into cheers.

The children reacted first:

Tina: “REINHARDDDD!! He’s here! The super-strong sword guy is HERE!!”

Lusbel: “YAAAAY!! He’s really real and he’s gonna win!!”

Rafiel: “I told you! I TOLD you he’d show up!”

Fred: “Reinhard-sama’s gonna beat the scary lady!!”

The four of them grabbed hands, jumped in circles, and shrieked so loudly that half the market looked over in delighted surprise.

Behind them, Reala, their mother, clasped a hand over her mouth—tears springing to her eyes as pure relief washed through her.

Reala: “Thank the Dragon… my babies… it’s really him…”

And their joy ignited the entire city.

Merchants leaned out from polished stall counters, shouting blessings.

Boatmen steering gondolas along the waterways cupped their hands to holler toward the broadcast tower.

Families out shopping stopped in their tracks to cheer.

Couples on afternoon strolls broke into applause.

Restaurant servers poked their heads out of doorways just to celebrate.

Voices rolled through Priestella like a triumphant festival chant:

“THE SWORD SAINT!”

“WE’RE SAVED!”

“REINHARD-SAMA!!”

“THANK THE DRAGON!”

“IT’S REALLY HIM!”

For the first time in the broadcast,

joy completely drowned out fear.

—

Across every border, from the snow-choked cliffs of Gusteko to the wind-swept plains of Kararagi, from the brutal iron cities of Vollachia to the sprawling markets and river-streets of Lugunica, the world erupted at once.

Soldiers on watchtowers, merchants in packed bazaars, nobles in their estates, farmers in the fields, laborers on docks, hunters in distant forests, miners deep underground, servants in manor halls, travelers on the road, children in crowded squares, elders resting in sunlit courtyards—

all of them cheered.

The roar was so universal, so overwhelming, that it felt as if every nation could hear every other nation celebrating.

For a single heartbeat in history, the whole world shouted with one voice—

Reinhard had arrived, and hope thundered across the land.

—

And in the middle of that planet-wide uproar, Subaru felt his face burn.

He could hear the villagers back in the Mathers domain screaming Reinhard’s name like it was a festival, and he could see his entire Camp cheering at full volume right beside him.

Awkward? Absolutely.

But beneath the flustered grin tugging at his cheek, he couldn’t deny it—

He was really, really happy.

—

[Reinhard: Hello there, Subaru. Seems we meet again. Sorry I'm late.”]

—

Subaru: “Damn! Now that’s how you make an entrance!”

Emilia: “I thought Subaru's entrance was cooler.”

At that, his face turned red once more.

Subaru: “Emilia-tan…”

—

[Reinhard: “Black hair, black clothes, and a blade unique to the northern provinces. There's no mistaking those characteristics. You are the Bowel Hunter. 

Subaru: Seriously? What kind of evil nickname is that?!]

—

Cecilus: “Agreed! Seems the Boss does know the importance of a title! That's why I’m The Blue Lightning!"

Spica: “Uuah!”

—

[Reinhard: It was derived from her unique style of killing those who oppose her. Her name is known far and wide as a menace to society.]

—

The moment Reinhard named her a menace known far and wide, the people of Gusteko bristled with a very specific kind of exasperation—

the kind reserved for a threat they had learned to fear the hard way.

Holy King Gusteko: “Hmph… Known far and wide, he says. As if my nation has ever been allowed to forget her.”

His tone was cold, clipped—less impressed by the warning, more irritated that anyone outside Gusteko needed to hear it explained.

Tiriena: “Indeed… Although she is quite known around our proud nation, others might not be so aware. Especially one from beyond the great waterfall.”

It wasn’t pride—merely the weary acknowledgement of a predator whose shadow had lingered too long.

And then, in stark contrast…

—

Prince Vague: “Who?”

His confusion was blunt, almost childlike in its honesty.

Locked away for over a decade, he had missed her reign of terror entirely.

His bafflement stood out sharply next to the grim recognition of every other Gustekan.

—

Across the mighty northern nation—

from nobles bundled in furs to soldiers on frozen watchtowers, from shamans to shepherds—

the reaction was the same:

a tired, almost offended “Of course we know her.”

—

Capella: “Well, this lady liked her pet’s name.”

—

[Elsa: Reinhard. Yes, a true knight among knights, born to the Master Swordsman's line. It's quite remarkable that each of my opponents are so much fun!]

—

Vague: “Ohh! Well why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

The long-imprisoned prince let out an exasperated huff, clearly irritated that no one had bothered to explain it simply. He had never heard of Reinhard himself—years locked away had seen to that—but even he knew the weight carried by the van Astrea name.

Now that he finally grasped the significance, a slow, almost embarrassed excitement crept over him.

Even in his confinement, he found himself quietly cheering for how the tide had turned.

—

[Reinhard: There are many things I'd like to ask you. I suggest you surrender. 

Elsa: Now do you honestly expect a starving predator like myself to resist the temptation of such delectable prey? 

Reinhard: Subaru, please, move back a little bit. 

Subaru: Whatever you say. That woman is a monster, so don't let your guard down, okay? 

Reinhard: As luck would have it, hunting monsters happens to be a specialty of mine.]

—

Felt: “Ya’ damn right it is!”

Reinhard beamed beside his lady.

—

[Subaru joins the half-elf in tending to the presumed corpse of Rom, only to see- 

Subaru: Old Man Rom is still alive? 

“Satella”: He's not out of the woods yet. I'm gonna have to heal him now.]

—

To Abel, the display itself was trivial. Yet as the half-elf worked, a single realization surfaced—irritatingly obvious, now that he saw it.

Abel: “So that’s why you treat healing as commonplace… you were surrounded by it from the very beginning.”

—

Next to the main four of the Pleiades Battalion, who watched the healing with wide-eyed fascination, old man Null shuffled over, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

Null: “Can ya’ imagine if I’d had that healin’ stuff ma’self?! Ahh, the number o’ folks I could’ve saved!”

It wasn’t like Null to voice despair — not in the past, not in the days of Gladiator Island, not even when the weight of failure pressed hardest. But after meeting Subaru — Schwartz — the old healer had somehow grown more willing to look directly at that old pain. He had been the one healer on the island… and he had never been enough. Subaru’s existence, his miracles, made that truth sting sharper and softer all at once.

A little bit of rightful jealousy rippled through him as he shouted to the comrades still alive because of that same strange, stubborn boy.

Hiain: “Yeah… would’ve been real useful. But people like us ain’t ever that lucky.”

Weitz: “Hey, Gustav — why didn’t you ever bring a healer to the island? I know they’re rare, but you had connections. You wanted to keep us alive more than anyone… so why?”

Gustav straightened, answering with the solemn dignity all of Vollachia recognized.

Gustav: “I, in my capacity, did not possess the authority nor the pull to bring a healer to the island. Thus, in my capacity as Head, I ensured that Null was always protected. You all know healers are scarce outside the Dragon Kingdom, but you do not grasp the degree of scarcity. I, in my capacity, know the true deficiency our proud nation endures. It is one of its greatest weaknesses.”

Null: “Too bad, too bad. A healer sure would’ve helped.”

Idra: “No kiddin’.”

—

Across Vollachia, weary citizens who had survived the recent war watched Emilia’s gentle healing with a mix of awed fascination and aching jealousy—for a nation built on steel and blood, where healers rarely lived long enough to be taught and tenderness had no place on the battlefield, the sight of such effortless mercy felt like witnessing a miracle meant for a kinder world than theirs.

—

[Subaru: Are you sure? I mean, he's part of the reason your insignia was stolen. 

“Satella”: That's exactly why I'm doing this. If he recovers, he can repay the favor by giving me information. He wouldn't lie to me then. Not after saving his life. See? This is for my own sake, too.]

—

Miklotov’s brows softened with a weary sigh. “Her heart is admirable… but for a royal candidate, such naïve optimism is dangerous.”

Beside him, Bordeaux clicked his tongue sharply. “A ruler who lets sentiment guide strategy? Unacceptable. This girl is far too soft.”

Their attendants exchanged troubled glances — if the prospective queen was this green, what did that mean for the kingdom?

—

Doltero snorted, eyes narrowing. “Pig-headed naïve stuff like that gets people killed.”

Toto turned to her companions with a baffled expression.

“Isn’t she a royal candidate? I’m surprised she’s acting like this at all — her insignia was stolen. You’d think she’d be furious, not helping him.”

Manfred folded his arms, frowning.

“Yeah. From what I remember, losing that thing means losing your candidacy outright.”

Toto shrugged, resigned.

“There’s no way she wins the election acting like this.”

Manfred exhaled.

“And yet… considering her current standing, you might actually be wrong.”

The three exchanged uncertain looks — politics was never simple.

—

Otto pressed a palm to his forehead with a strangled groan.

“Emilia-sama… that kindness is exactly why you shine — and exactly why I’m going to lose all my hair by thirty.”

Subaru: “Haha Otto, I thought you already turned gray!”

Otto: “W-what, No! I was born like this Natsuki-san!!!”

Emilia grabbed Subaru’s ear while comforting Otto that everything ended up fine. Not that that would prevent the predestined loss of hair. 

—

Capella burst into warped, delighted laughter.

“Kihihihi! Look at her! That simpering, selfless little half-breed — how boring, how deliciously pathetic!”

Her grin stretched impossibly wide as she rocked with laughter.

“Kihihihihi!”

As she laughed, her attendants watched with both parts worry and relief as they could only be grateful “Mama’s” attention was off of them. 

—

Todd watched the screen with dead, flat eyes.

“Saving someone who stole from you…? Yeah, no. I’d never do that. That’s not a plan — no one’s falling for it.”

He glanced sideways at Katya, who was biting her nails, and thought about everything he hated: the immortal freak he hated, the naïve half-elf he disliked, and the screen itself for interrupting what could have been a peaceful day with his wife.

Todd exhaled slowly.

“…But I guess it tracks. She and that monster are the same breed of unusual.”

—

[Reinhard: I would rather not resort to using violence on a woman. 

With a single footstep, the swordsman shattered the floor, immobilizing Elsa before knocking her away.]

—

Liliana: “OOOH, EVERYONE, ARE YOU SEEING THIS?! What an entrance! In a single heartbeat, the Sword Saint proves himself both a perfect gentleman and an absolute force of nature! With nothing but a STEP—yes, a step!—he shatters the entire floor and sends the Bowel Hunter flying! Kyaaa, how INCREDIBLE!”

Behind her, Kiritaka hovered helplessly in the doorway, torn between dragging her away from the delicate equipment and giving up entirely.

Kiritaka: “Lady Liliana—should you really be… is this… should I stop this? Or… Saints preserve me… should I just let her…?”

She ignored him completely, leaning even closer to the device with sparkling eyes as if narrating a grand theatrical performance written just for her.

— 

[Elsa: Look at you! My, you're just as good as the rumors say. Maybe better. 

Reinhard: I hope that I can meet your expectations. 

Elsa: …Aren't you going to use that sword on your hip? I’d love the chance to experience its legendary sharpness first-hand. 

Reinhard: This sword can only be drawn at times when it's truly needed. The fact that it hasn't left its sheath as of yet means that this is not one of those times.]

—

Liliana (practically vibrating as she leaned into the transmitter):

“Woooaaah—did you all hear that!? The Sword Saint’s legendary sword, the one everyone talks about, the one that can cut through anything—he says it can only be drawn when the world itself decides the time is right! Isn’t that incredible?! Hohoh, everyone, we are witnessing history!!”

Her voice echoed through Pristella’s broadcast lines, bright and sparkling with delight.

Liliana:

“He isn’t even using his real weapon yet, everyone! That means this entire fight—THIS whole breathtaking, heart-pounding battle—is him holding back! Isn’t that just the coolest thing?!”

Behind her, Kiritaka hovered helplessly, halfway between lunging to stop her and sagging in resignation.

Kiritaka (exasperated, whispering):

“Liliana… you—this is—should we really be broadcasting state-shaking secrets to the entire city—?”

Liliana (shooing him with one hand, still narrating):

“No time, Kiritaka-san! The people need the blow-by-blow! Look! Look at how calm he is! Look at that confidence! This is the Sword Saint, everyone!!”

And with that she leaned even closer, practically pressing her face to the receiver, ready to announce the next breath Reinhard took.

—

Cecilus — springing on his feet the instant Reinhard finishes speaking, eyes blazing with delighted mania — “YES! YES! That’s it! Perfection! A sword that only answers when the world itself calls for it—what a magnificent twist! What a divine obstacle! The gods themselves are crafting my narrative!”

He spread his arms wide, as though embracing an audience only he could see.

Cecilus: “Hear me, great stage of the world! I, Cecilus Segmunt, the unrivaled main character of existence, SHALL prove myself worthy of that blade! Reinhard van Astrea—remember this day! I eagerly await the moment you rise as my destined antagonist!”

Next to him, Arakiya dragged her hands down her face.

Arakiya: “For the love of Od… he’s doing it again. Reinhard isn’t your antagonist, you deranged peacock.”

Spica bounced in place beside them, fists wiggling with excitement.

Spica: “Uuuaaah!!”

Cecilus continued while making a dramatic pose, finger pointed skyward, just like his boss. 

Cecilus: “Yes, YES, Spica! That’s the spirit! Feel it! The stage grows grander by the heartbeat! The curtain rises! My rival approaches!”

—

Across the world, the revelation hit like a blow: veteran knights of Lugunica stiffened in alarm, realizing the Sword Saint fought unarmed because no one compared to his unarmed self; Kararagi’s wandering mercenaries traded wide-eyed stares, whispering if such a weapon could truly exist; Gusteko’s hardened warriors and shamans paused, unsettled by the idea of a blade that answered only to crisis; Vollachian generals and gladiators, who prided themselves on strength, felt a rare chill crawl up their spines; and Lugunican nobles, merchants, and commonfolk alike struggled to comprehend that the strongest man alive wasn’t even using his true weapon.

Awe, fear, disbelief — it rippled through every nation as the world collectively wondered:

If this is Reinhard without the sword… then what happens when the sword is finally needed?

And yet, unbeknownst to them all — from the lowest slum to the highest throne — the very boy Reinhard was protecting, the awkward, reckless, infuriating Subaru Natsuki, was one of the only souls in existence truly worthy of that blade.

—

Reinhard’s thoughts were steady and simple, almost matter-of-fact.

Reinhard: “How strange,” he found himself thinking, “that I’m crossing blades with someone completely unworthy of the sword… while protecting someone who actually is worthy of it.”

It still felt unusual, even now—only a year and a half after that first moment—that he had met one of the very few people the Dragon Sword would accept. He hadn’t understood it then, he doesn’t understand it now.

“To think that history will remember this fight as my moment,” he reflected, when all I was really doing was protecting him.”

And what surprised him most was not the battle itself, but the aftermath:

“He never looked at me with fear. Or disgust. He just… saw me as a person instead of a monster. Even considering that remark…”

That memory left a small, quiet relief in his chest.

But now, as the truth of the Dragon Sword’s restriction spread across the world, Reinhard felt another realization settle in:

Reinhard: “People will understand more now. Just how different I am. How far from human…”

He let out a slow breath. Not dramatic—just accepting.

If they see me as a monster, then that’s fine. I’ve never really been anything else. And even if the weight gets heavier after this, it’s still a small price to pay for the life I saved that day.

—

Heinkel: “Tch, always a freak, huh?”

Schult: “Heinkel-sama, there’s no need to be so… crude.”

Heinkel: “Tch. Whatever, brat. Ain’t like it matters.”

Schult lowered his gaze, trying not to show how the words stung. He could never fully understand Heinkel’s tangled feelings toward his family—or toward anyone, really. But now that he was the acting head of the Bariell Domain, he wanted, at the very least, to develop the adult skills necessary to understand people… even someone as difficult as Heinkel.

Schult: “I won’t fail you, Heinkel-sama… I swear it.”

Heinkel: “Heh? What’re ya mumblin’ about now, brat?”

Schult straightened.

Schult: “Nothing. I have work to attend to. Please tell me if you need anything.”

Heinkel: “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

—

[Elsa: I believe you underestimate me.  

Reinhard: Truthfully, it's an upsetting judgment for me, as well. Therefore... I will take you on with this instead. Any objections?

Elsa: Of course not. It's wonderful. Wonderful! Do entertain me, please!]

—

Holy King: “Tch, disgusting.”

—

[Despite the boisterous attitude, the Bowel Hunter is quickly disarmed. 

Reinhard: If you've lost your weapon, then I suggest you surrender. 

Nonetheless, the killer charges forward. 

Subaru: Watch out, Reinhard! She's got a second one! 

And again, Elsa is left defenseless. 

Elsa: I'm impressed you knew. 

Subaru: I've experienced your blades personally.]

—

A collective “Ouch” spread throughout the world at the cruel reminder.

—

Roswaal: “If he was that open with it, I am surprised I never put the pieces together as to the function of his authority’s activation requirements — requirement.”

He corrected. 

Roswaal: “It really was that simple…”

—

At Subaru’s quiet admission, the world recoiled as one. In the Emilia Camp, Emilia’s eyes filled with tears, Beatrice’s grip tightened around Subaru’s hand, Garfiel’s fists trembled, Otto flinched sharply, and Ram and Rem both stiffened with mirrored dread. In Crusch’s Camp, Felix’s ears flattened tight against his skull, Wilhelm’s hand closed around his sword hilt, Crusch steadied her breath, and Russell’s usually calm expression wavered. In Anastasia’s Camp, Julius inhaled sharply, Anastasia pressed a hand lightly to her chest, Ricardo looked aside with a clenched jaw, and Mimi, Hetaro, and Tivey all shrank back in instinctive worry. In the Pleiades Battalion, Hiain tensed like struck prey, Weitz clutched his shoulder, Idra winced, Gustav lowered his head in grim understanding, and Spica, far away in a different place entirely, hid behind Cecilus—who, with Arakiya glowering nearby, fell uncharacteristically silent. Among the Shudraks, Mizelda pressed a hand over her heart, Taritta bowed her head, Medium gripped Flop’s arm, and Flop went pale with fear. 

In Pristella, Lusbel winced sharply, Tina clung to his sleeve, Rafiel buried her face against her mother, who wrapped both children—Fred and Rafiel—into her arms with a tight, protective squeeze. In Gusteko, the Holy King froze in rigid disapproval while Tirienia’s stern expression tightened with heavy understanding. In Vollachia, the divine generals collectively grimaced while Katya covered her mouth in alarm. And in Reinhard’s home, Felt shut her eyes with a small, pained flinch.

It was only a single sentence, yet the weight of it rippled through every land and every watching heart at once.

—

[Elsa: But I have more than two fangs, I'll have you know. You wouldn't mind if we started again, would you? 

Reinhard: If I deprive you of all your weapons, will you be satisfied? 

Elsa: If I lose my fangs, I'll use my claws. If I lose my claws, I'll use my bones. And if I lose my bones, I'll use my life. That's how a Bowel Hunter fights.]

—

Cecilus: “Ok, even I must admit when the villain says a cool line like that…”

At that, Cecilus had to dodge a smack from Spica and her teleport.

—

[Unrelenting in their attitudes, the Hunter and the Sword Saint begin their fight in earnest. 

Subaru: There's no way Reinhard's gonna fail to land the decisive blow, right? 

“Satella”: Unfortunately, he's not able to fight at his full strength, since I'm using my spirit arts.]

—

Zarestia: “Hmm, a way to weaken him?”

—

Many people hoped to take notes on a method to weaken the Sword Saint, but all would be disappointed when they realized such endeavors are pointless.

—

[Subaru: What do those have to do with each other? 

“Satella”: If Reinhard were truly intent on fighting, all the mana in the atmosphere would turn away from me. I've almost finished healing him, though. So be sure he knows when I give you the signal.]

—

Olbart: “Oioi! That ain’t fair! I was hopin’ we’d finally dug up that freak’s weakness!”

Madelyn: “Why does it friggin’ matter? Don’t get carried away thinkin’ you’re gonna fight this freak.”

Groovy: “Seriously—why’s every ‘weakness’ he’s got just another reminder of how goddamn insane his powers are?!”

Abel: “It bears no relevance. The Empire and the Dragon Kingdom are at peace. His strength is not our concern.”

Zikr: “And thank goodness for that… truly.”

—

[“Satella”: …He should be all right now. Go ahead. 

Subaru: Hey, Reinhard! I don't really get it, but do your thing! 

Nodding, Reinhard begins to gather the mana around himself, a terrifying prospect for any who plan to make an enemy of the Sword Saint. 

Elsa: What are you going to show me? 

Reinhard: The swordplay of the Astrea family.  

Both seeing the end of the battle as near, they take the opportunity to formally introduce themselves, a custom not foreign to even the lowliest of thieves.]

—

The Emilia and Anastasia Camp, now knowing the true folly of ever giving your name in battle, could not enjoy the legendary announcement.

—

[Elsa: You're facing the Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert. 

Reinhard: From the line of the Master Swordsman, Reinhard van Astrea! 

The ordinary sword, now wielded by someone far from it, begins to shine a white light. It’s made to slash forward, and in mere seconds…an explosion, and all is reduced to rubble.]

—

For a long, breathless moment, the world simply stopped.

Pear salesman: “…Well I’ll be damned.”

Nearby, Plum stared at the screen wide-eyed, her tiny hands frozen mid-clap, while Rakasha could do nothing but gape beside her.

—

In Priestella, Lusbel, Tina, Rafiel, and Fred all fell utterly still, mouths slightly open and eyes shining with childlike awe as the white light faded from the rubble.

And in the transmitter tower, Liliana’s commentary cut off mid-breath—her bright, ringing voice stilled for the first time since the broadcast began, a silence that was itself the loudest possible declaration of how unbelievable Reinhard’s strike had been.

—

Subaru: “Considering the lack of cheers I suppose everyone is quite amazed with you rein buddy. You never cease to impress.”

—

[But of course, although everyone else is stunned and afraid, Subaru could not give two shits as he sat up to shout his own opinion. 

Subaru: …"Hunting monsters is your specialty," my ass! Look at this place! You're a monster yourself!]

—

Felt: “Ha! Big bro, ya really are a riot! Rein needed ta hear that, considerin’ the stunned silence I’m gettin’ from ya’ll!”

Ezzo: “W–what?! Ah! Right, sorry Felt-sama! I’m just so…!”

Rom: “Freaked out? Yeah, I get it.”

No one noticed the way Reinhard subtly winced — that small, fleeting crack in his perfect composure — as he was reminded yet again that even the people who trusted him, respected him, even cared for him… still saw him as something “other.”

—

[Reinhard: Even I'm a bit hurt by a comment like that, Subaru. 

Looking at the sword in his hands, Reinhard apologised: “I'm sorry I asked too much of you. Rest well now.”]

—

Cecilus: “Another cool line from my destined rival!”

Arakiya, finally recovering from the blast of spectacle: “…Shut it, Cecilus, before I start another fight.”

Spica immediately hopped between them — a soft, urgent uuaaah! — throwing her tiny arms wide as Arakiya’s glare sharpened. Cecilus only grinned wider, delighted, as if her threat were nothing more than applause.

—

[Subaru: There's not a shadow of her left, let alone a body. He did all that with just one swing of a sword?]

—

A shared thought between pretty much everyone.

A common “Yeah…” rippled throughout the world.

—

[“Satella”: Is it all over now?

Subaru: Looks like it. Figuratively and literally. 

“Satella”: Why are you staring at me? That is quite rude, you should know better.]

—

Yorna: “Ohh? That’s a nice look.”

—

[Subaru: Oh, it's just...You still have your arms and legs, and even your head.]

—

Otto: “Don’t say it like that, Natsuki-san!!!”

Subaru: “What can I say? I was truly relieved.”

At his sincerity, no one wanted to laugh at Subaru’s tactlessness again. After all… you’d be tactless too if you were in his shoes.

—

[“Satella”: Of course I do. Don't say such things.  

Subaru: Yeah, you're right. Pretty obvious, huh? I still have my arms, too. And there's no knife in my back. No gaping hole in my gut, either! Whew! 

“Satella”: What strange things to point out. You talk as if you've experienced them before.]

—

The amount of winces were truly uncountable at those horribly ironic words.

—

[Subaru: Actually, there was a time when I did. Oh, yeah, and Reinhard! I haven't thanked you yet. You saved my ass! You saved it back in the alley, too. Guess you just have a way of knowing when I could really use some help. 

Reinhard: If I had the ability to do that, I'd certainly be proud.  

Reinhard: This friend of yours, I found her running around the streets, quite frightened and desperate. She asked for my help, so I came here. 

“Satella”: It's her... 

Subaru: Now, hang on a second. If she hadn't brought Reinhard here, who knows if we'd even be having this conversation. Just take a look at this face, and spare me the "ice statue" punishment, okay? 

“Satella”: I wouldn't do anything that violent. And what does your face have to do with any-? 

A nearby pile of debris stirred, and from there… 

Reinhard: -SUBARU!]

—

Wietz: “Shit—!”

Hiain: “Bro—!”

—

Liliana: “W-wh-what?!”

—

Doltero: “Oh—?!”

—

Fred: “No—!”

—

Otto: “Wha—!”

Petra: “Subaru—!”

—

Capella: “Oh—?”

—

Tiriena: “Od—!”

—

Tivey: “No—!”

Hetero: “Hk—!”

Julius: “Subaru—!”

—

Tanza: “Schwa—Hk!”

—

Todd: “Oh—?”

—

Able: “Hk—!”

—

[…Appeared the Bowel Hunter, charging one final time towards “Satella”.  

Subaru: Huh? Hk-She'll go for the gut! 

With that thought in mind, and Rom’s club in hand, Subaru successfully blocked the attack. 

Elsa: Tch-He got in my way again. 

Reinhard: That's enough, Elsa! 

Elsa threw her last knife as a projectile, who promptly fucked off thanks to a divine protection.]

—

Vague: “Impressive and then absurde…!”

—

[Elsa: Before long, I will disembowel every last one of you here in this room. Until that moment comes, be sure to take care of your bowels. 

This time for real, Elsa retreated.]

—

At Elsa’s words, Subaru couldn’t help the flinch that tore through him. The phrase echoed — the same sickening line thrown at him in a forgotten world as he bled out, more and more and more moremore more more moremoremoremore—

Subaru: “Hk!”

Beatrice: “—Subaru!”

Only then did he realize he’d crushed the spirit’s tiny hand in his grip. He let go as if burned, eyes darting wildly, and found the entire Camp staring back at him in worry.

Sylphy: “A-Are you alright, Subaru-sama?”

Subaru forced a weak smile.

Subaru: “Y-Yeah… just a little shaken considering what’s about to happen on screen.”

It slipped out — the lie, instinctive as breathing.

Beatrice would have to bring this up later.

—

[Reinhard: Are you all right? 

“Satella”: Me being ‘all right’ isn't what's most important right now!--Are you all right? That was far too reckless! 

Subaru: Oh, it was no problem…Now, it sure took a long time to get here, but the good news is, I finally made it. 

The signature Subaru pose was struck, and at last, the future knight and his lady could be (re-)introduced to each other. 

Subaru: My name is Subaru Natsuki! And I just risked it all to save your life from a dangerous and heinous villain! Is that okay? 

“Satella”: "Okay"...? 

Subaru: It means,"Are we clear on that?". So, OK? 

“Satella”: O-Okay...  

Subaru: I, your rescuer, am the one who saved your life. And you are the heroine I saved from the clutches of evil! So wouldn't that mean you should repay me in kind? Wouldn't it? Huh?!]

—

Hiain: “HAHAHAHA! Bro is crazy!”

Weitz: “Sorry, but I can’t defend that.”

Null: “Ha! I’m lovin’ it!”

—

Flop: “Ha! See, Sister! I knew I never needed a declaration like Husband-kun! Look at how ridiculous he is!”

Medium: “Husband-kun is SOOO funny! HAHA!”

Mizelda: “Pft—!”

—

Fred: “HAHA!”

—

Liliana — leaning dramatically over the transmitter, eyes shining with delight — declared with full sincerity:

Liliana: “And to think, ladies and gentlemen, that the same era which gave us that stirring speech began with this adorable awkward idiot!”

Her enthusiasm echoed across every receiver.

—

The Subaru of the past would’ve turned beet-red at the idea of the whole world witnessing this kind of fumbling teenage affection. But now? He knew what real humiliation felt like — what true terror, despair, and soul-deep vulnerability were.

Compared to that, this was nothing.

He simply let the distraction wash over him… and quietly despaired at the mountain of blackmail material he was handing Otto on a silver platter.

And right on cue—

Otto was already rubbing his hands together like a full cartoon villain, eyes sparkling with the malicious joy of a man who had waited years for this opportunity.

Otto: “Ohhh, Natsuki-san… I’m going to save this moment for a rainy day.”

Ram, watching from the side, clicked her tongue with unhidden satisfaction.

Ram: “Barusu’s shame truly is the only reliable constant in this world.”

Beatrice, meanwhile, puffed up like an offended squirrel, stamping one small foot as she tugged at Subaru’s sleeve.

Beatrice: “I refuse to let you be mocked for such foolishness, I suppose! B-Betty will silence anyone who laughs, in fact!”

—

Julius sat with arms folded, eyes narrowed at the screen where Subaru flailed about like a man whose soul had never once met the concept of dignity.

Julius: “Unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable. This level of comportment is… catastrophic.”

Anastasia blinked at him, amused.

Anastasia: “Now now, Julius. He ain’t givin’ some royal speech. Just let the boy be himself.”

Julius: “I would—were he not doing it in front of every kingdom in the world.”

Off to the side, Ricardo snorted.

Ricardo: “Ain’t that just Mini-Boss bein’ himself?”

Julius ignored him, already deep in thought. He steepled his hands. His eyes sharpened.

Julius: “This cannot continue. Someone must intervene. Someone with standards. Someone with training.”

Anastasia: “Oh? And who exactly did ya have in mind?”

Julius inhaled like a man preparing a sermon.

Julius: “…Marcos.”

The entire Anastasia Camp froze.

Halibel: “The captain of the Royal Guard? That Marcos?”

Julius nodded, grave.

Julius: “Precisely. Marcos-dono is the pinnacle of knightly etiquette. If I bring Subaru to him for corrective refinement—no, a full etiquette reconstruction—then perhaps there is hope.”

Mimi: “Hehe! Are you gonna make the Mini-boss do the fancy fork stuff?!”

Julius pressed a fist to his chest, determination blazing like a second sun.

Julius: “Not just fork technique. Everything. Posture. Speech. Manners. Conduct. His bow is crooked—his soul is crooked. Subaru will return a changed man.”

Anastasia smirked.

Anastasia: “Ya sound like yer about to have him shipped off to a reform school.”

He didn’t even blink.

Julius: “If Marcos-dono operates one, I will personally register him.”

Across the world, the actual Marcos, watching from afar via another broadcast point, stiffened refined steps, as a sudden chill ran down his back.

Marcos: “…Someone is thinking of assigning me homework… necessary homework.”

Guard 1: “Heh?”

Marcos: “Nothing.”

—

Now Todd could respect awkward love and selfish gains, but something told him to wait before giving his approval to the one man he truly hated.

—

[“Satella”: Yes, I understand! But only if whatever you want reward-wise is within my power, of course... 

Subaru: That sounds fair to me! In that case, I have only one request! And... that request is...I want you to tell me what your name is.]

—

Todd: “Of course…”

His voice was flat, unsurprised, irritated in that quiet Todd-Fang way that meant he’d already written Subaru off as a lost cause.

Katya: “Her name? Really? B-But she’s a healer and a strong warrior! W-Why would a weakling like him throw away a reward like that for… a name!?”

The indignation hit her first, then the confusion — a slow, sinking bewilderment at a scene that made absolutely no sense to someone raised in Vollachia’s brutality.

Todd: “Don’t think about it too hard. You’ll just waste your time trying to understand lunatics.”

Katya swallowed, still staring at the screen as if it might start making sense if she blinked enough.

Katya: “…Y-Yeah. Crazy lunatics.”

Even so, her voice wavered — because part of her wished she could understand. Todd just didn’t bother trying.

—

Doltero: “He wanted… her name? After all that? Pig-for-brains move if you ask me.”

Manfred: “He could’ve asked for anything. Coin, favors, protection—anything.”

Toto: “Yeah, but nope. He just wanted her name. That boy’s priorities are upside-down.”

To Toto, such lovey-dovey sentiments are irrelevant, as her line of work includes crushing that love for cash.

—

Miklotov: “After three near-fatal encounters… the boy requests a name. Astounding.”

Bordeaux: “It borders on political idiocy. A healer and a royal candidate—yet he seeks no leverage?”

—

Able: “So that was his desire… not power, not recompense, but a mere name?”

His gaze lowered in something between irritation and reluctant understanding.

Able: “Truly, Natsuki Subaru—your values remain incomprehensible…”

—

Yorna: “Oho… my, my.”

She lifted a fan to her lips, eyes glittering with delighted mischief.

Yorna: “To cast aside wealth, status, and advantage—only to request a maiden’s name? How exquisitely earnest… how breathtakingly foolish… and how romantic.”

She sighed, pleased.

Yorna: “A heart moved by sincerity alone is a rare treasure in any land, I suppose.”

Tanza: “I would expect nothing less from Schwartz-sama.”

—

Mizelda: “I approve!”

—

Across the watching world, opinions fractured instantly. Some found the gesture adorable, charmed by the earnest foolishness of a boy asking only for a name after surviving what should have been fatal three times over. Others judged it a terrible idea, muttering that a spirit arts user—much less a royal candidate—was too valuable a resource to squander on sentiment, with men like Rickert Hoffman and Russell Fellow openly scoffing at the waste of potential leverage. A few thought it romantic, smiling at the purity behind such a request, while others scoffed in disgust, calling it naïve, reckless, or downright idiotic. Some were annoyed, unable to understand why someone would throw away political leverage for something so small, while others were genuinely touched, warmed by how clearly he only wanted safety for everyone involved. For every person who thought it foolish, another believed it brave, and for every critic calling him absurd, another quietly admired the sincerity of the boy who asked for nothing but her name.

—

All the while, Emilia cried—soft, trembling tears slipping down her cheeks. Relief for her Subaru, and grief for the meaning behind that simple request he’d made in the past.

Subaru: “Hey, Emilia-tan… you alright?”

Emilia: “No. N–No, I’m reeeally not alright, Subaru!”

Her voice cracked. “All of that… everything you went through… j-just for my name? That’s not… it’s not enough. It could never be enough for everything you lost!”

Subaru, flustered but trying to cheer her up, forced a smile.

Subaru: “Hey, hey! That’s not true at all! Don’t you remember what I told you? How I only ever ask for what I truly want in the moment, from the very bottom of my heart? ’Cause that’s who I am. That’s my true self.”

He laughed lightly. “It’s the same reason I asked Puck if I could pet him when he offered me a reward!”

Emilia: “…”

Her silence made everyone look over, tension rippling through the Camp.

Emilia: “No, Subaru… I don’t remember that…”

Subaru froze.

Subaru: “…Really? Huh… I guess… you must’ve forgotten. But it’s true. So don’t say I didn’t get enough. Because—”

He gave her a wobbly grin, eyes a little too bright.

“—I think I got everything.”

His quick, desperate redirection fooled most of the Camp, who slowly turned back to the screen.

But Emilia and Beatrice were not so easily deceived.

Both girls exchanged a glance—the same heavy, sinking realization beginning to settle into their thoughts.

Whatever Subaru was hiding… it wasn’t small.

And it wasn’t something he wanted hurting her.

—

[The stranger couldn’t help but giggle. 

???: Emilia. 

Subaru: Huh? 

Emilia: My name is Emilia. Just Emilia. Thank you for saving me, Subaru. 

Subaru: All those times I got hurt, all the crying I did, all the pain I felt, all the fighting with my life on the line, and my reward was her name and a single smile…Oh, man, talk about unequal compensation.]

—

No one could deny the awe they felt at those words as they realized the true gravity of the situation and what was paid in recompense. At this point, no one, even those who knew him, could agree that the compensation was anywhere close to equal. And yet, no one could deny the same satisfaction that provided their very soul.

—

No one could deny the odd heaviness that settled over them at those words, as the true gravity of the situation—and the price that had been paid—finally registered. At this point, not a single soul, not even those who knew him best, could pretend the compensation he’d received was anywhere near equal.

And yet…

In the very same breath, no one could deny the quiet, undeniable satisfaction that bloomed in their hearts—

a deep, soul-level relief that he had chosen something so pure, so fairy-tale-like, it almost felt unreal.

And in a world with no entertainment industry, where the closest thing to a play was a festival skit and stories rarely traveled beyond a village’s borders, it was only natural that such moments would stir intense emotions in nearly anyone.

Except Capella…

—

Capella: “Heh?! I don’t get it…”

—

[Reinhard: Anyway, Subaru, I'm impressed that you're still able to stand. 

Subaru: I was lucky this thing was there to grab for protection. Otherwise, I'd be in two pieces right now. 

Reinhard: True. If not for this...What the-?

And a few moments — and some cinematic beeping later:

Subaru: Uh-oh. I should've seen this coming. 

At least allowing for a heartfelt moment, the cut to Subaru’s abdomen at last made itself known.]

—

Kafma: “Shit!”

Groovy: “Od, damn it! After all o’ that?!”

Zikr: “Oh my… this is—”

Abel: “If he is sent back now, his spirit may well break—”

Olbart: “No kiddin’. If all my work got wiped out like that, I’d lose it.”

Moguro: “I do not believe this marks the end. He has a capable healer at his side.”

Groovy: “Good fuckin’ point—doesn’t change the gaping, shitty hole in his gut!”

Madelyn: “Agh! Why does this dragon have to keep watchin’ this human die!? It’s gettin’ really friggin’ annoying!”

—

Tanza: “No…”

Both Tanza and her lady lowered their eyes, the hopeful shimmer they’d carried moments ago dimming into quiet sorrow.

—

Idra: “Schwartz—!”

Gustav: “Does it truly end here?”

Gustav’s eyes widened as he stood rigid, shutting out the noise of his comrades. He had never once imagined the boy’s struggle would end like this—yet the sight before him suggested exactly that.

—

Cecilus: “Damn it, Boss! And after you unleashed all those cool lines, too! Agh!”

Arakiya: “He’s so fragile…”

Spica: “Uuuaaaaahhhh!!!”

Arakiya: “A-Ah—c-calm down, Spica! He will be fine… most likely…”

At that fragile reassurance, Spica only wailed louder.

—

Flop: “NO!!! Husband-kun can’t die like this! Not after everything!”

Flop had already leapt to his feet, shouting in furious disbelief that Subaru couldn’t die here — absolutely could not — but beside him, Mizelda felt something deeper twist inside her chest.

To the Shadraqians, a death like this was the height of honor — the kind of glorious, selfless end sung in evening tales: a warrior declares his will, saves another, and meets death standing. Ordinarily, Mizelda would have praised it as the finest way a soul could leave this world.

But knowing him, knowing that Subaru was not meant to die — could not die — the sight left a bitter taste she could not swallow.

—

Petra: “No! Subaru! I thought you said this ends well?!”

Her voice cracked, panic already rising in her eyes.

Subaru raised both hands in a placating gesture, smiling far too brightly for someone currently watching himself die on-screen.

Subaru: “Well—yes! It does end well, I promise! I just… get a little bloody first. And remember how I mentioned being nervous about what was coming? Yeah. This was the part.”

The cheerful reassurance only made it worse.

Around him, the entire Camp froze — a strange, painful mix of relief that he was here and breathing… and horror that this was the kind of thing he could smile through.

Beatrice’s jaw dropped.

Otto’s hands went straight to his hair.

Emilia covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide and shimmering.

Subaru kept smiling anyway — because if he didn’t, they really would panic.

—

[Emilia: Subaru?! Subaru!  

Subaru: Man...She's so cute even when she's panicking like that. That’s a fantasy world for ya.]

—

Emilia: “Subaru, this is not the time!!!”

Her voice wobbled somewhere between panic and outrage.

Subaru: “But I meant it!”

He protested like a man wrongfully accused — despite the fact that his on-screen self was currently dying.

Emilia leaned in, silver eyes blazing.

Emilia: “Not. The. Time.”

Subaru: “…Alright, alright, sorry…”

He shrank down a little, chastened.

Meili, peeking from behind Petra, blinked at the screen.

Meili: “Onii-san is crazy…”

Subaru: “Hey—what?!”

Otto threw his hands up, scandalized.

Otto: “She’s absolutely right, Natsuki-san! You do not compliment a girl while bleeding out! There are rules!”

Subaru: “Okay, okay, I get it! Yeesh…”

The Camp collectively groaned — half exasperated, half relieved — because of course Subaru would nearly die and embarrass himself at the exact same time.

—

[Emilia: There. His treatment is complete. He should be over the hump now. 

Reinhard: By the way, Emilia-sama, what's your relationship with Subaru? An acquaintance? 

Emilia: Honestly, I don't recall ever seeing him before. When we met earlier today, I believe it was the very first time. 

Reinhard: But he was looking for you. Said he had something to give you. 

Emilia: Odd behavior from a stranger.]

—

Emilia: “I get it now…”

—

Julius went stiff in his seat, memories resurfacing of that boy who had approached him on the road during the Archbishop of Sloth Campaign with perfect confidence—and far too much trust in someone he had only ever known as an enemy.

Crusch’s attendants exchanged unsettled glances, each remembering how Subaru had marched into their lady’s office with knowledge no outsider should ever have possessed, proposing the impossible and forging the legendary deal that would one day defeat the White Whale.

But none felt it harder than Russell Fellow.

The merchant froze like a man watching a crime scene play out in reverse.

He remembered—oh, he remembered too well—the day a ragged, half-delirious boy he had never met had confidently requested that Anastasia’s people “contact Russell Fellow,” as if they were long-standing business partners.

The boy had bargained like someone who already knew Russell’s desires, fears, and prices intimately—as though the meeting had happened before.

At the time, Russell had brushed it off as genius, intuition… or luck.

But now—watching Emilia echo the same bewilderment and confusion he himself had once felt—

Russell Fellow felt a creeping, dreadful understanding settle in his gut.

Oh no… this wasn’t intuition.

This wasn’t luck.

This wasn’t normal.

He pressed a trembling hand to his chin, cold sweat beading along his brow.

“That boy… that boy didn’t just know my name,” he whispered.

“He lived that negotiation with me—somewhere.

What am I supposed to do against that?

How could I ever protect my nation from someone like that?

There’s no amount of power or preparation that can outdo that.”

Across Camps and nations—even in the distant city of Garkla—others felt the same eerie, disorienting déjà vu: the memory of once being strangers to a boy who acted like an old friend.

And now, with Emilia unknowingly repeating the cycle, the world collectively realized:

This is what it feels like to be met by Subaru Natsuki for the second time—on the first meeting.

—

[Reinhard: Yes, it is rather peculiar...So what do you propose we do with him, then? I'd be glad to take him to my home as a guest, at least while he's healing.]

—

Felt shot to her feet, jabbing an accusing finger at Reinhard with the outrage of a betrayed sibling.

Felt: “ARE YOU KIDDIN’ ME?! You coulda brought him home with us?! You had the chance and ya didn’t?! Rein, you big soft pushover—I could’ve had Big Bro in my Camp this whole time!”

Reinhard flinched like he’d been struck by a divine punishment, utterly unprepared for the wrath of one very offended princess.

Ezzo: “I must agree Reinhard-sama, you had the chance, but you blew it…”

Rom: “Yup”

Flamm & Grassis: “Mm hmm.”

Reinhard: “Agh, apologies…”

Felt: “Not forgiven!”

—

[Emilia: I'll take him home with me. That way, I can find out what's really going on. More importantly, what will become of that girl and the old man? 

Reinhard: Officially, I cannot overlook what they've done here. However, as luck would have it, I just so happen to be off-duty today. 

Emilia: Well, aren't you a bad knight.]

—

A low, rippling murmur rolled through the Council chamber the moment the implication landed—

Reinhard had been there.

Reinhard had acted.

And Reinhard had chosen not to report it.

Miklotov’s quill stalled mid-stroke, his eyes narrowing behind his lenses.

Miklotov: “…He was off duty.”

He said it aloud, but it sounded more like a warning than an excuse.

Bordeaux’s jaw tightened, fingers tapping the armrest with barely contained agitation.

Bordeaux: “Off duty or not, to act autonomously and then withhold the report… This is troubling.”

Mutters spread among the assembled nobles and senior knights who were present as observers—

their disbelief mixing with budding alarm.

“So this is how the fifth royal candidate was discovered…?”

“Without a report? Without oversight?”

“To think such an event unfolded without the Council knowing…”

The tension grew heavier.

The remaining Wise Men exchanged looks thick with unease.

This was no mere bureaucratic oversight —

this was a reminder of the truth they all preferred to ignore.

Whispers sharpened:

“We rely on that power, yet cannot direct it…”

“If even the Sword Saint chooses what he tells us…”

“…then our influence over him is far weaker than assumed.”

No one dared to finish the thought.

But all of them felt it—

that cold, creeping realization:

Even the Council of Wise Men did not fully control the monster they depended on.

—

[Emilia: So this old man is part of your family, I take it? 

Felt: Yeah, something like that, I guess. Old Man Rom's the only person I have in this world. I suppose he's like my grandpa.]

—

Rom: “Am I now?”

Felt: “Oh, shut up! I only said it ’cause ya were asleep, old man!”

Rom raised an eyebrow. “But ya meant it?”

Felt went crimson in an instant, spluttering for a retort she absolutely did not have.

“—Tch! Don’t go sayin’ weird stuff! I was just— I was just bein’ practical, okay?!”

Her bluster only made it worse. The entire Astrea Camp—Ezzo choking on a laugh, Reinhard smiling behind his hand, even the knights trying and failing to look dignified—snickered at how adorable her flustered glare was.

Felt: “Quit laughin’ or I’ll deck the lot of ya!!”

Which, of course, only made them laugh harder.

—

[Emilia: I see. I only have one family member, too. He's always asleep at the most important moments, although I wouldn't say that out loud when he's awake. 

Felt: Considering what I did, I figured you'd be a lot harder on me. You saved my life back there and I can't let a debt go unpaid, so I'll return what I stole from you. If it's important, I suggest you keep it hidden so no one can steal it again.]

—

Madelyn: “This friggin’ dragon isn’t even surprised anymore.”

—

[Emilia: I appreciate the advice, though, it's a little strange to hear it from you. 

Noticing a faint glow from the insignia as it’s being surrendered, Reinhard gasps, seizing Felt’s wrist.]

—

Vague: “Heh?”

—

Zarestia: “Hmm?”

—

Cecilus: “Now what could get my rival to react like that?”

—

Holy King: “What?”

Tiriena narrowed her eyes at the image before them.

Tiriena: “I am not certain, Your Majesty… but the insignia is glowing.”

Holy King: “And that means?”

Under the combined stares of her king and the assembled nobility, Tiriena elaborated with cool precision.

Tiriena: “The royal selection candidates are chosen by prophecy, and the insignia acts as its vessel. If the Sword Saint reacted immediately to that glow, then that girl must be one of the five candidates for the throne of the Dragon Kingdom.”

Holy King: “That slum rat!?”

Tiriena: “Yes. It is the only explanation for how a half-devil entered the competition in the first place—confirmed just now by the Sword Saint himself.”

A soft wave of murmurs rolled through the great hall—“ohh,” “I see,” “incredible”—as comprehension settled over the court. Yet confusion lingered under the surface.

For even in Gusteko’s proud and ancient halls, bold questions twisted through many minds:

How could the neighboring Dragon Kingdom entrust its future to a half-devil?

And now, on top of that, a slum-born thief?

What sort of kingdom allows that to happen?

And what sort of future would that create for the nations who border it?

—

[Felt: W-What're you doing?! Hey! You're hurting me! Let go of my arm!  

Reinhard: This can't be possible! What's your name? 

Felt: Huh? It's Felt, why do...? 

Reinhard: Family name? And just how old are you? 

Felt: Look, I don't have anything fancy like a family name. I'm about...15, if I had to guess. I don't know my birthday. Just let me go! 

Reinhard: Sorry, Emilia-sama, but I'm afraid that I can't keep my promise to you at this time. I'll be taking this girl with me.  

Emilia: May I ask you why? If it's just for stealing my insignia, then... 

Reinhard: That theft alone is no small crime, certainly. But if I overlook what's unfolding before me at this moment, I know it would be the greatest crime of them all.  

Reinhard: I'll need you to come along with me. I'm sorry, but I simply can't allow you to refuse. 

Felt: Get over yourself! Just because you saved me doesn't mean you- 

With a careful and precise mana extraction, Felt was put to sleep. 

Emilia: That little move didn't seem very knightly, either.]

—

A ripple of unease spread across every gathering who watched the scene unfold. Even those who revered the Sword Saint felt their stomachs tighten at the sight of him calmly extracting the girl’s mana and putting her to sleep. In the Emilia Camp, expressions stiffened—Emilia winced, Otto’s jaw dropped, Frederica folded her hands in uneasy disapproval, and even Garfiel’s ears twitched sharply. In the Anastasia Camp, Julius’ brows drew together at the violation of knightly propriety, while Anastasia herself tapped her fan against her chin, troubled despite her composed smile. Across Lugunica, nobles shifted in their seats, whispering about the dangerous ease with which Reinhard subdued a child. In Kararagi and Gusteko, hardened warriors muttered under their breath, unsettled not by the act’s cruelty but by the reminder of his absolute power. Even among the Shudraks, who valued strength above all, a quiet discomfort stirred—Mizelda frowned, Taritta lowered her gaze, and Medium hugged her arms around herself.

It was a shared, instinctive reaction across nations: admiration or not, there was something deeply disturbing about how effortlessly the Sword Saint removed Felt’s freedom with a single, gentle touch.

—

[Reinhard: I was careful not to use too much force. Emilia-sama, I will most likely be calling upon you again very soon. I hope you understand. Please take good care of Subaru. Tonight may be our last chance…to gaze calmly at the moon…]

—

Chapter Text

—

If that first display of power unsettled them, then Reinhard’s quiet, poetic warning—“Tonight may be our last chance to gaze calmly at the moon…”—struck them like a cold omen. A line that should’ve sounded beautiful instead carried the weight of disaster, and across nations, Camps, and kingdoms, a single dreadful realization settled in:

If the Sword Saint himself was talking like that, something truly terrible must be coming.

—

As conversations rippled through every nation—murmurs, theories, denials, shaky laughter—the screen abruptly went black.

A sharp inhale passed through continents.

Before panic could take root, a deep, resonant drum boomed across the world, and bold white letters carved themselves onto the darkness:

—

[Arc 1 – THE TUMULTUOUS FIRST DAY]

—

A title.

A name.

A declaration.

Subaru exhaled a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Subaru: “Ha… a name, cool, I guess…”

Otto blinked.

Otto: “What’s this…?”

Garfiel—already rising to his feet—struck Subaru’s signature pose with dramatic fervor.

Garfiel: “Ain’t it obvious, Otto-bro?!”

Otto: “N-No—wait—!”

With the confidence of a man unveiling ancient truth, Garfiel thrust out his chest and proclaimed to the entire Camp:

“It’s a title! A cool title for the Boss’s story!”

Petra & Sylphy: “Ohhh!”

Meili: “Cute~”

Otto, defeated by his own curiosity and Garfiel’s volume, sank into a resigned sigh.

Otto: “O-Okay… I don’t know why you had to announce it like that, but… okay…”

And while the Emilia Camp buzzed with excitement and anticipation, the same realization dawned across Lugunica, Kararagi, Gusteko, Vollachia, and every other corner of the world:

This was only the first.

A beginning.

A prologue with a name.

And if the first arc had a title…

Then surely—

there would be more.

—

[With another single, identical, heart-shaking drumbeat, the title dissolved into darkness.

For a breathless moment, the world waited—

Until new text seared itself across the black screen:

ARC 1 COMPLETE — 9 ARCS TOTAL.]

—

A collective silence fell.

—

[Three seconds later—

Boom.

The same drumbeat.

The same pulse trembling through kingdoms.

The title vanished, replaced by enormous white numbers spanning the entire black projection:

[01:23:59:57]

A countdown.]

—

Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds.

Marching downward with a cold, steady rhythm.

The meaning was unmistakable:

Arc 2 was coming.

And the world had exactly one day, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-seven seconds to prepare.

—

As the countdown ticked… ticked… ticked downward, silence settled over the Anastasia Camp.

Halibel: “So, what d’ya reckon we do now?”

Anastasia slowly turned her gaze toward the shinobi. She was still seated, elbows on her knees; he was still lounging by the doorframe, looking as lazy as ever.

Anastasia: “*Sigh* Well first, let me ask ya’ this — d’ya think we’re really gonna have ta’ watch Natsuki-kun and his adventures? These ‘Arcs,’ as this Metia calls ’em?”

Halibel: “Seems so. But we all got lives to live. No offense to Su-san, but ya’re a busy woman — and I’m sure ya’ll have some complaints ’bout this takin’ up all your time.”

And wasn’t that the truth?

One might believe that when an all-encompassing revelation like this struck the world, everything would freeze. But reality didn’t stop just because a hero bled out on a screen. It had been barely two hours since the viewing began, and it was only by sheer luck that Anastasia Hoshin hadn’t had any meetings scheduled. Now, with less than two days until the next viewing, she would have to rearrange everything around a broadcast no one could predict—be it two hours long or more.

(Except Subaru Natsuki, of course.)

Anastasia: “Indeed… ya’re right. But I might have no other choice but ta’ reschedule my meetings for a while. Those needy guys’ll just hafta be patient…”

Julius: “Yes…”

Ricardo: “Mmm…”

Halibel: “Oh come on now, ya’ all can’t be this depressed before it even gets good!”

He tried, truly tried, to lighten the mood—using the same humor, teasing, even a few playful threats that had worked before. But his words fell flat.

Somewhere, deep inside every viewer, a primal instinct — born from a world with no fiction, no stories, no entertainment industry — resisted the idea that future “Arcs” could be filled with repeated suffering. Yet once the screen lit up with that dreaded number 9, reality hit:

Every smile, every scream, every tear, every waiting moment they’d witnessed…

Would happen again.

Or worse — happen differently.

This was the despair that struck the Anastasia Camp.

Julius: “Nine arcs… eight more to go…”

Halibel: “Seems so.”

Julius: “I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

Mimi: “W-Well then let this Mimi help ya’! Just try ’n tell this lovely lady what ya’ been thinkin’!”

Julius: “…”

Julius: “This is all so wrong.”

Anastasia: “I know how ya’ feel, Juls…”

Julius: “No. I don’t think you do.”

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms — not offended, but urging him on. She wanted her knight — the one in her camp closest to Subaru — to speak his mind.

Anastasia: “And what’s that supposed ta’ mean?”

Julius: “I-I didn’t mean to offend… I just—this recontextualizes every interaction I’ve ever had with him. And the fact that it does proves that I never truly understood him.”

Halibel: “I’m sure that ain’t true, Juli-san! You two are friends!”

Julius: “Yes… he is my friend. A friend who once listened to me complain about being forgotten by the world while I told him he didn’t know what that was like. And what’s worse?! When he answered me… when he said he did know what it was like to be forgotten… I scoffed and moved on.”

He clenched his fists.

Julius: “He comforted me. He took on the tower for me and others. And none of us—none—ever asked him if he needed to be remembered too. He may be my friend… but, clearly, I couldn’t even bother to be his.”

Silence blanketed the room as Julius stood and walked out, mumbling something about needing to rest after contacting those his lady was set to meet in two days.

Julius: “That look of confusion on his lady’s face… it was the same…”

And all the while, the clock continued ticking above their heads.

—

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Ezzo: “My lady, it seems we have visitors from the royal palace. You might want to—”

Felt: “Bring ’em here.”

She cut him off without hesitation. She’d never cared much for propriety to begin with — only learning the bare minimum needed to avoid being dragged to Marcos by Reinhard, or worse, to Grimm and Carol.

But now? She couldn’t care less. She would handle this meeting, then lock herself in her room. She had too much to think about: her bro, her scumbag servants, her failures, and the deaths — plural — of everyone involved.

Before she could even sink back into her garden chair, their guests — a noble and a knight — stepped into the garden.

Noble: “Hello, My Lady. My name is Rickert, and I have come to deliver you a message.”

The man was sleazy and old, presenting himself as a noble when he truly was not one anymore. After the fall of the royal family, the Hoffmans had lost their official standing. But that didn’t mean Rickert had lost his power — he still held considerable influence over the Lugunican kingdom, and had personally requested to deliver this message himself.

Felt: “What d’ya want? Spit it out or take that escortin’ knight ya’ brought and leave.”

Rickert: “I have come to summon the Sword Saint, in the name of the Council.”

Felt: “Bullshit. I ain’t givin’ him ta’ ya’.”

Rickert: “It is not up to you, My Lady. It is the Sword Saint’s duty to answer his own summons.”

Felt’s eyes narrowed. She stood sharply, ready to bite his head off. The tension in the garden spiked as everyone tensed—

—but before that fear could take hold, Reinhard stepped forward.

Reinhard: “Felt-sama, it is all right. I shall go and return in prompt timing. There is no need for concern.”

Felt: “Are ya’ kiddin’ me?! After all that just happened?! And ya’ wanna go?!”

At that point she was desperate — shaken, exhausted, and needing her knight more than she wanted to admit.

But after a few more of Reinhard’s soft, confident, infuriatingly reassuring puppy-dog-eyed looks, she finally sagged and let out a sigh.

In the end, she allowed him to go — on the strict condition that he return before the next viewing, with time to spare… or he was fired.

As Rickert, his knight, and the Sword Saint turned to leave, Rickert suddenly paused and glanced around the garden.

Rickert: “It seems my son is not around. I suppose the consequences of his actions have finally caught up to him. I did try to warn him. Lady Felt, I hope to speak with you about him before you do anything drastic. He is, after all… my blood.”

The “son” he referred to was Rachins Hoffman — currently locked in the Astrea manor’s cells.

Felt: “Shut it. What happens to that criminal stays within my camp.”

Before she could launch into another tirade, Rickert wisely turned and walked away — and Rom and Ezzo immediately stepped in, doing their best to restrain Felt with the last scraps of composure they had left.

Ezzo: “Felt-sama! Please! We need to talk!”

Rom: “I agree, little lady! We gotta discuss this crazy shit now before chaos erupts!”

Felt: “Alright, alright! Yeesh! *Phew*”

Felt: “Okay, so—Carol, Grimm, can ya’ do me a favor and contact that woman? Ya’ know, Raksha. She’s yer family, ain’t she?”

Flam and Grassis gave each other a look at their lady’s words, deciding to watch their grandparents’ reactions.

Carol: “She is indeed related to us. She is my daughter. And yet, she chose to cut off her relation to our household, and I do not believe she would desire a meeting.”

Felt: “Well too bad. This isn’t about her or your family drama. I’m ordering you to bring her to me. Do you not realize the danger she’s been put in, considering all the attention now on anyone who was shown on those metias?”

Grimm: “Alright. I shall contact her.”

Felt: “And bring her husband and daughter too. Can’t leave anyone out, right?”

She gave a mischievous grin at the end, knowing full well that the two old servants had not yet gotten to meet their grandchild—nor had the twins gotten to meet their cousin.

As such, both for their protection, any possible knowledge they had, and the chaos she could create, Felt had to bring them into her fold.

Doing that, Felt dismissed everyone back to work after giving some needed reassurance; if the Sword Saint himself was willing to leave, then there was no real danger.

Afterward, she walked to her room — too lavish for her liking — and promptly shut herself in.

Felt: “It’s going to get crazy soon. No… it’s crazy now… damn it, Bro, what have you gotten yourself into now…?”

—

In the Crusch Karsten household, it was quiet.

The only ones outside in the estate garden were Felix, Wilhelm, three attending guards, Russell Fellow, and the Karsten lady herself.

Russell: “Two days. That will be sufficient… if only we knew what was to come after.”

Wilhelm: “I believe it would be obvious, considering the topic at hand…”

Russell chuckled that bitter, sarcastic comment away, hoping to steer the conversation toward the matter he had come for.

Russell: “True indeed, Wilhelm-dono. But before we speak of that particular topic, I hope to deviate a little while still remaining relevant. Would you allow that?”

Crusch: “Y-Yes, Fellow-san. But… I must ask, are you not shaken after what we witnessed?”

Russell: “Not greatly.”

Yes greatly.

Russell: “Mostly curious.”

Mostly desperate.

Russell: “I am aware of your connection to the boy on screen and was hoping to consult you about my next actions. As you know, I hold great influence over the market—”

The underworld.

Russell: “—and I do not believe I know enough about Natsuki Subaru to act just yet.”

I don’t know anything about this monster, and I hope talking to you will give me the edge I need.

Felix: “Well, clearly we know nothing.”

Crusch: “Ferris! There is no need to be rude.”

Russell: “Oh, it is alright, Karsten-sama. I am aware that you did not seem to have known about the boy’s curse, but I was more interested in your knowledge of him as a person.”

If I cannot kill him, I can tame him. That’s business.

Wilhelm: “Then allow me, My Lady. As you know, I am quite fond of the boy — and for good reason.”

Russell: “Oh, do tell.”

He truly did not know that the Sword Demon — a man who showed loyalty, not affection — was fond of this boy. This was interesting.

Wilhelm: “I was not aware — like all of you — that Subaru-dono—”

Russell: “‘Dono’?”

Wilhelm: “—had such a curse. But I can say for certain it has not made him into a monster. On the contrary, that selfless behaviour Subaru-dono has shown — risking his life for strangers — is exactly the kind of thing I expect from him.”

Felix: “Or maybe it’s all a lie… nya.”

Crusch: “Ferris!”

Russell: “Tell me, Felix-dono, why is it you say that? From Wilhelm-dono’s words, the boy presents as a pure-hearted soul, no?”

Felix: “I-I… I just don’t like it, nya. If what Wilhelm-san says is true, nya, then that means he would have saved Crusch-sama too, instead of leaving her behind like this…”

At those words, everyone — even Russell — looked at Felix in horror.

It seemed like a silent, universal agreement not to voice the possibility of strategic suicide being available to Natsuki Subaru, and yet Felix had stated his selfish wish outright.

Crusch: “Ferris, you know that Subaru-san tried to save me! He even offered up his own body to heal me! It was my choice to say no!”

As they bickered briefly over Subaru’s motives — Felix eventually apologizing — Russell felt he had learned something of great importance.

And as he left the estate to return to the Council of Wiseman and resume oversight of the relief (control) efforts, he thought about what he had learned.

Russell: “I didn’t think he was such an idealist. Not now. In the past, I could believe it, considering all I saw. But after enough death to fill nine whole arcs, I did not believe that was still the case.”

Russell: “I had hoped to have this either confirmed or expanded upon by those who know him, beyond my meeting with him over a year ago. But it seems they still see him as the altruistic type — the type to apparently sacrifice a body part for a rival candidate to the throne.”

Russell: “I do wonder what the implications are for such a person… someone who would give their body and their life for nothing in return. I shudder to think what someone that mad is capable of sacrificing for his own ideals.”

—

In the Barielle domain, Schult was working hard to maintain stability. Yae had disappeared to who-knows-where after everything was revealed, and Heinkel was being worse than usual. But Schult would not fret — that would be an insult to the woman who had given him everything.

Just then, while he was speaking with an attendant about sending out messages to the relevant correspondents, Heinkel barged in.

Heinkel: “Hey, brat! Are ya’ seein’ this?!”

Schult, calm as ever, replied without turning.

Schult: “Yes, Heinkel-sama. Just like everyone else.”

Heinkel: “Then why aren’t ya’ freakin’ out?! Look at what it said — nine arcs! Nine!”

Realizing the swordsman’s source of distress, Schult set down his papers.

Schult: “Yes, it is unsettling. After all, if those arcs follow the trend of the first, then it means Subaru-sama must have gone through a very hard time.”

Heinkel: “Ya’ think?! But that’s not the issue here!”

Schult: “Then what is?”

Heinkel rubbed a trembling hand over his face and snapped:

Heinkel: “If the monster really kept on dyin’, then that means — well, it means he did it. All of it!”

Schult: “?”

Heinkel: “Don’t gimme that look, kid! Don’t ya’ get it?! Everything that happened — the crazy Witch Cult freaks, the damn war… Priscilla’s death… all of it was influenced and planned by him!”

Schult: “That is quite the accusation. Are you drunk?”

Heinkel: “I’m always drunk, and I’m always thinkin’ clearly! So don’t dismiss me so suddenly!”

Schult: “That accusation is still substantial. We should wait for the viewing to show us whether you are right or not. Until then, please rest. You look like death.”

Heinkel: “Hah?! Rest?! After hearin’ that?! I can’t just sit still, brat!”

Schult: “You pacing holes into the carpet will not change the truth, Heinkel-sama.”

Heinkel: “Tch! Listen to ya’, talkin’ like ya’ ain’t scared outta your mind!”

Schult: “…I never said I wasn’t worried.”

The admission made Heinkel pause for half a breath — long enough for Schult to continue.

Schult: “I am simply choosing not to let fear dictate my actions. You should try the same as Priscilla-sama would expect.”

Heinkel: “Easy for you to say! You ain’t the one who’s gotta avenge a dead princess without killin’ the enemy, or wonder if that damn brat was puppeteering the whole world the whole damn time!”

Schult: “If Subaru-sama had such intentions, Heinkel-sama, we would not be having this conversation. We would already be dead.”

Heinkel froze, then let out a shuddering laugh — half fear, half disbelief.

Heinkel: “Od’s balls… kid, you ain’t makin’ this easier.”

Schult: “I am not trying to. I am trying to bring you back to reason.”

Heinkel clicked his tongue, but he did not argue again.

Although that did not mean he was done. Whether on purpose or not, Subaru Natsuki had failed him and his Lady, and Heinkel would not simply ignore that. But Schult was right about one thing: the metia in the sky would reveal information he needed. He would not be like Yae, who had run off to Od-knows-where after telling him she was “going out.”

No — he would be smart about this. He had just confirmed the reason Aldebaran had failed to contact him, and he would not make the same mistake.

Heinkel van Astrea would watch, learn, and prepare. And when the next arc began, he would hopefully finally have the answers he needed — answers he intended to use.

—

Vincent Abellux Vollachia sat with his generals in silence as the clock ticked… ticked… ticked down.

He turned his head slightly as he addressed those gathered around him.

Abel: “What of the Blue Lightning and the Spirit Eater? Have they not yet arrived?”

Goz, one of the few not already within his emperor’s direct line of sight, stepped forward from behind the throne.

Goz: “It seems they have not, Your Highness — but they must be close. If you permit it, I shall go to the lookouts and return with an estimate.”

Abel: “No need. They will likely arrive by the time you return. Instead, go prepare the town square to accommodate the Garklen people. We must watch these proceedings with them — to display our strength and the protection we provide.”

He paused only long enough to make sure every word landed.

Abel: “Coordinate with the Empress Consort and with Flop O’Connell. Jamal Aruélie should be with Minister Barstetz; work with all of them to implement the arrangement I have mapped out. It must be ready by the time this countdown reaches zero.”

Goz: “Yes, Your Highness!”

Olbart: “Hoho… this’ll be fun.”

Kafma: “…”

They dispersed, each moving to their assigned task under the single, silent understanding that they must be in the town square when the timer struck zero.

On their way out, thoughts swirled — not of logistics, but of what they had witnessed on the screen: the events revealed, the kingdom they unfolded in, and the terrifying implications behind them.

Kafma still believed the boy on the screen was an existential threat.

Goz felt the same.

Madelyn was shaken by the repeated displays of mental death, each more horrific than the last.

Moguro quietly drafted countermeasures for an enemy who might as well have been immortal.

Zikr sifted through every memory he had of Natsumi, trying to reconcile the behavior with what he now knew.

Groovy cursed under his breath about the incomprehensible curse binding the boy.

Olbart, meanwhile, found himself thinking back to the brat’s behavior just one month ago — unsettlingly similar, now that he had the context.

Olbart: “Hopefully his highness doesn’t end up blamin’ me for somethin’ I don’t even remember doin’, since I know he liked the brat. If he can even like anyone…”

—

Gustav: “Prepare, in your capacity, to continue your work.”

Gustav had no intention of prolonging this world-shaking event. As the steadfast servant of the Empire he was, he would continue — in his capacity — to lead the reconstruction efforts at once.

Hiain: “B-But Gustav-san, ya’ can’t just ignore what we saw! After everythin’, we gotta do somethin’!”

Weitz, Idra, Null, and everyone else — including the five lizardmen, Orson, Hitz, Nadrey, Quonson, and Codley — all nodded in nervous agreement.

Gustav: “Enough. There is nothing, in your capacity, that you will be able to do.”

Most of the Battalion did not dare question the multi-armed man. They knew he was right: they had no idea what they could do about a phenomenon beyond their comprehension.

And as the countdown ticked… ticked… ticked down, Gustav turned away from them, walking toward the main tent. Weitz hurried after him.

Weitz: “W-Wait, Gustav-san!”

Gustav ignored him, long strides unbroken until they reached the tent — the general’s command post, Gustav’s pseudo-office.

A soft, elegant voice drifted toward them.

???: “My, my… so you have chosen to join us?”

Seated just outside the tent — clearly having stepped out once the viewing began — were Tanza and Yorna, both assisting in the reconstruction efforts alongside the citizens of the Demon City who had arrived from Guaral.

Yorna: “Tell me, Gustav. What do you plan to do now that this child’s secret has been revealed to you and your people?”

Gustav: “There is nothing that I, in my capacity, need to do. It is my duty to fulfill His Excellency’s orders to the best of my ability, and that does not require further action. Regardless of what this phenomenon reveals in two days’ time, it does not change what I — in my capacity — must accomplish.”

Tanza and Weitz exchanged confused looks. Neither could understand how someone could remain so rigidly loyal to an Emperor they barely knew… over the boy who had saved them all.

And considering the person in question was Schwartz — Subaru Natsuki — that confusion was slowly curdling into frustration.

Weitz: “Ya’ can’t really mean that, Gustav-san! Don’t ya’ see Schwartz is gonna be in danger now that his secret’s out?! We gotta go help!”

Before Gustav could offer another unsatisfying or outright rude response, Tanza stepped forward.

Tanza: “I understand your worry, Weitz-sama… but you must remember that Schwartz-sama is quite capable. Even in his past self — far less prepared than he is now — he still managed to overcome the ordeal. So do not lose faith in him or in his allies. He is no longer alone.”

Yorna offered Tanza an approving nod; Gustav gave a silent grunt that served as his version of agreement.

Realizing there would be no swaying them further, Weitz exhaled, shoulders slumping, and trudged back toward his comrades.

If he wanted to calm his fear, he would need the Battalion’s loud arguments, stupid jokes, and wild theories — all the chaotic noise that helped them work, rebuild, and wait out the next two days.

—

It was night now — truly night.

The only light came from the fire and the stars above.

For a long while, no one spoke.

Then—

Hiain: “…Ya’ don’t think that Schwartz ended up an’ dying while he was with us… right?”

A beat.

Quonson: “Nah. No way. He had all o’ us to help! It ain’t like before.”

A sharper voice cut in.

Weitz: “You’re wrong.”

Several people flinched. Heads turned.

They waited for an explanation.

Silence.

Quonson: “…And why d’ya say that?”

Another pause — heavier this time.

Weitz: “Because I remember how he knew my name before I ever told him. Just like that half-elf. And just like…”

He trailed off.

Idra: “I know what you’re sayin’. But we knew his name before he told us too.”

Hiain: “Y-Yeah.”

The five lizardmen — Orson, Hitz, Nadrey, Quonson, and Codley — nodded in nervous confirmation.

Weitz: “Yeah, but we knew ’cause Gustav called his name before the Sparka, remember? But he didn’t do the same for us…”

No one wanted to be the one to respond to that.

The fire crackled. The silence stretched.

They all knew the truth Weitz was implying.

They all wanted to believe they hadn’t already failed Subaru before he knew their names.

No one could say a word.

Eventually—

Idra: “…What do you think Gustav-san is thinking?”

Hiain: “Why does that matter?”

Idra: “I was just thinking… that if anyone should be shaken, it’s the one who most likely killed Schwartz…”

The group froze.

The fire popped sharply.

Weitz: “Ya’ can’t say that! Gustav would never do that to Schwartz! Ya’ know he respects him too much!”

Idra: “What I know is that Gustav doesn’t respect anyone who does not prove themselves first. And knowing what I know now… I wonder how many times Schwartz had to die before he earned enough respect to live.”

That one hit like a hammer.

More flinches.

More horrified faces.

And now — anger mixing with fear.

Hiain: “I-I don’t wanna think about it.”

Idra: “…Yeah. Neither do I.”

Silence again.

This time heavier.

Everyone stared into the fire, suddenly unsure of everything they thought they understood.

Especially Jawsrough, who was finding all of this too shocking to even consider. 

For a battalion held together by trust, this suspicion in their leader and in each other, paired with the lies of that very founder, was slowly — slowly — corroding the strength built for them by Natsuki Subaru.

And farther back — where the shadows swallowed the firelight — old man Null sat alone.

He wondered, for the first time in a long while, whether he should bring up that little vial of poison a ten-year-old boy had once asked him to make.

A poison he had made.

A poison Schwartz had insisted on.

A poison he had never asked about — and now deeply wished he had.

—

Serena Decroy of Vollachia was sitting in her office.

Like many others in her high position, the viewing had begun behind her — through the window behind her desk — and, as such, like many others, she had been forced to turn her desk and chair around to watch the proceedings unfold.

She was a tall woman with a stocky physique. Her hair was a bright auburn color, and a large scar crossed the left side of her face. She now sat in silence after the viewing announced its end… and later, its beginning. She didn’t know whether to be fascinated or afraid, so she chose neither. It was not her concern what monster existed in the Dragon Kingdom, as she was a countess of the Empire.

Or at least, that’s what she wanted to say.

Tapping her finger on her desk in accordance with the tick, tick, tick of the countdown, she thought:

Serena: “So, this kid is immortal. No wonder Roswaal was so desperate to find him. A loss like that — a naïve kid, easily manipulated, lost and alone… but what about it? It’s not like it ended badly. After all, it’s quite obvious he used that ability for the sake of the Empire. That shows a good motive from both the boy and Roswaal, and explains why Ram was not as worried about the boy as she was for her sister.”

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose.

Serena: “Regardless… there is no way for me to involve myself. And I’m sure Roswaal will be up to his neck in angry correspondents. I do wish you well, Roswaal — but you are going to need more than that whiny child’s ability and existence to get through this storm.”

As she continued thinking about all the possibilities and advantages this ability provided, all while maintaining a careful façade of apathy, she kept tapping—tick, tick, tick.

—

Tiriena was currently looking over the papers she had collected. She had left the Holy King in the great hall to work with her attendant and organize a comprehensive report. She might be a religious leader, but her subordinates—and the king himself—were far better suited to handling the pacifying speeches required to prevent panic.

Attendant: “There doesn’t seem to be much here, my Lady…”

Tiriena: “No, it doesn’t seem so… How can this hero that everyone knows about—so much so that his reputation reached us all the way out here—not have a single piece of relevant information? We’ve been working for hours and yet, look—nothing!”

As she waved her papers eccentrically, both her frustration and the stark contrast between her formal courtly self and her current frazzled self became abundantly clear.

Attendant: “Agreed. All I see here are reports of rumors about the ‘Hero of Pristella’ and the defeat of the White Whale.”

Tiriena: “That will not cover the apparent eight arcs that are yet to be shown…”

She said those words more quietly, resigned to sift through the meager information before facing her sovereign again.

Tiriena: “I just wish I knew a little more about this boy…”

Attendant: “I think we can infer a few things.”

Tiriena: “Like what?”

She asked with mock but gentle interest.

Attendant: “Well… he acted in accordance with his known title. He acted like a hero. That moment with the tomato—when the fear flashed so clearly across his face…”

Tiriena: “Did you pity him?”

Attendant: “No… yes. But mostly, I was amazed. If we look past all the blood and fear and possibility, we can see that moment. That single moment was… well, it was amazing. Do you remember what he said? He said that if he knew someone was in danger, he had no choice but to help. I admire that.”

After a reflective pause, Tiriena smiled and nodded.

Tiriena: “I suppose you’re right. It was quite admirable… what he did, I mean.”

Attendant: “I know that I don’t know a single person who would be willing to do that, least of all me.”

Tiriena: “As much as I want to joke about your lack of faith in me or yourself, I can’t help but agree.”

After a few more shared smiles and complaints about their lack of proper documents, they returned to their work—comforted, at least, by the knowledge that the title hero was not misplaced.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick………

—

Toto: “So… nine, eh?”

Manfred: “Seems so.”

Doltero: “We should separate for now. We’ll meet again in two days.”

Toto: “And why should we? I’ve got work to do—and much better company to watch this with.”

Manfred shot her a flat side-eye. Doltero continued without missing a beat.

Doltero: “For many reasons, you ignorant pig. We must remain unified in our knowledge and in our opinion of Natsuki Subaru. And we need a legitimate excuse to fend off the panicked meetings that will inevitably be forced upon us. Watching the next viewing together provides both. So do not refuse.”

Manfred: “I must agree. If we watch it as a unit, we can share information and align our conclusions while we work to maintain the stability of Flanders. So, Toto—what do you say?”

A beat. Then she clicked her tongue.

Toto: “Well… I guess you’re not such bad company that I’d reject you outright. Fine. But for now, I’ve got information to gather and work to finish. I’ll return here—and only here—when the countdown hits zero.”

With that agreement settled, the Flanders Trio parted ways, each heading off to their respective duties—already preparing for the two days of work and worry ahead.

—

Milde was the leader of Arlam Village; she had watched the proceedings on screen with tears and hope. When the screenings began, it didn’t take long for Ryuzu Meyer to hurry down and confirm the safety of the Emilia Camp. She informed them all that Subaru seemed aware of what was being shown and urged calm among them.

At the time, many of the children had clustered around Ryuzu as they watched, hoping the only Emilia Camp member present could shed light on their confusion. That was—until the first of Subaru’s bodies hit the floor. After that, Milde, Ryuzu, and the old man Rasphum became fully occupied trying to calm the children alongside the village parents. But it became more and more difficult as the deaths kept piling up.

Before the third death, all the children had been sent inside—where they would be unable to see the violence unfold and would not hear the revelation that shook the adults to the core.

Milde: “I believe you owe us quite the explanation, Ryuzu-sama.”

She wasn’t asking with malice; she had already confirmed that everyone in the village saw this as a tragedy, not a betrayal. She was simply asking for plain information—especially now that eight more arcs were set to air.

But she was—along with the rest of the village—disappointed to hear that Ryuzu was just as clueless as they were, and that she had reason to believe the Emilia Camp itself was equally in the dark, as their reactions confirmed.

As worry for their hero and for the world increased, Milde did her best to calm the storm.

Milde: “I am aware of all your feelings, but we all know this changes nothing about our hero. As such, I implore you to return to your homes. I will request Ryuzu-sama to send a message to the manor in hopes of keeping us from being left in the dark. For now, please go check on the children.”

The villagers gave a newly hopeful shout of agreement. Milde confirmed the message with Ryuzu and then set off.

—

Away from sight, however, a group of children had quietly snuck out to continue watching the proceedings.

Mild: “S-So… what now?”

Cain: “Seems all the adults’re askin’ that now…”

Dain: “Yeah…”

Lucas: “He died…”

Meina: “Should we do somethin’?”

Mild: “Like what?”

Lucas paused only a breath before deciding.

Lucas: “…Let’s go.”

Everyone: “Go where?!”

Lucas: “To Subaru!”

Mild: “W-What?! Why?!”

Dain: “My mom’ll be mad…”

Lucas: “To go check on Subaru, of course!”

Mild: “But—!”

Lucas: “No buts! Let’s go!”

But before they could escape (and make the plot more complicated for me) Ryuzu intercepted them on their way out. And as they complained and nearly begged, Ryuzu reassured them that Subaru — Young Su — is doing just fine, and that they should not cause him trouble.

—

Miklotov: “Nine…”

Bordeaux: “What is going on, for Od’s sake!?”

The old warrior stood up, enraged, as those final words were projected across the entire kingdom he was honor-bound to protect.

Every knight in the hall looked back and forth between the screen and the furious man, dread settling like a weight.

Knight: “W-What do we do…?”

Bordeaux: “Nothing. We do nothing!”

His voice echoed like a bellowing drum.

Bordeaux: “We wait for the Sword Saint’s arrival. We’ll receive answers then.”

He was still loud, but the edge of hysteria had been forced into something controlled—barely.

Bordeaux: “Answers about the half-elf’s supposed witchery, the street rat, that immortal boy… and the Sword Saint’s insubordination.”

He said it with sharp finality as the room fell into uneasy silence.

Miklotov, still seated, watched it all unfold. He agreed that they needed to question the Sword Saint. After all, the man had been present for everything. And those ominous words he spoke before the screen went black— “This may be our last night to gaze calmly at the moon”—must mean more than they seemed. Miklotov needed to understand what the strongest man in the world had seen that none of them had.

Bordeaux turned sharply, glaring at everyone as he dismissed the room with a single gesture. The other Wisemen didn’t protest. They simply bowed out, returning to their own duties. It was an unspoken truth: the two men giving the orders were the ones truly running things. The others worked more quietly, in the background.

When the doors finally shut and the two elders were alone, Miklotov spoke.

Miklotov: “It is right that we speak to the Sword Saint before we make any decisions—should our assumptions prove misinformed.”

Bordeaux: “Ha! What, like arresting the witch and her pet?”

He said it crudely, but Miklotov didn’t flinch.

Miklotov: “Indeed. Not only would such an action be unwarranted—since their only ‘crimes’ are Candidate Emilia speaking a hated name as her own, and the boy dying for her—but…”

Bordeaux cut him off before the thought could soften.

Bordeaux: “Don’t think me so stupid. I’m aware the arrest of the candidate and her knight is impossible, considering their status and national importance.”

A rough exhale.

Bordeaux: “As you said, it’s the boy’s reputation that gives the people hope. And beyond that—such an arrest would be blatantly wrong.”

He crossed his arms, looking almost insulted.

Bordeaux: “I didn’t get where I am today by removing those I dislike for fun. I may hate them both, but I am no animal. So yes— for the sake of our nation, we must speak to the one man who might know more than the entire world knows now, and decide our next actions from there.”

Miklotov softened.

Miklotov: “I’m glad to hear you say that. And I do trust you, old friend—you can just be a little rash at times.”

Bordeaux let out a scoff, then a crooked grin.

Bordeaux: “With my mouth. Not my actions.”

Miklotov: “Like a certain self-proclaimed knight I know…”

Bordeaux: “…You still insist on calling him a knight?”

Miklotov: “That’s one thing we’ll never agree on. After all—what is a knight, if not someone who would die three times to protect the innocent?”

Bordeaux grunted, clearly annoyed but unable to argue.

And then they waited.

The topic of arrest had been brought up in relation to the two most important figures on the screen, yet both Wise Men had conveniently ignored the one who had actually committed a crime. Felt had stolen a royal insignia—and as Reinhard stated, that was no small crime. Nor could they overlook the assassin who had been hired by someone unknown and clearly dangerous.

Miklotov: “We will also have to contact the Emilia Camp in relation to the assassin who escaped. I don’t imagine they would have overlooked the threat of being targeted.”

Bordeaux: “And you believe it a good idea to contact the place both are in?”

Miklotov: “Though I agree it is nerve-racking, we must also remember that Subaru Natsuki is not the only one in the world to possess both unusual origins and a power above others. What we saw was… extreme, yes. But that is all there is to it.”

Bordeaux: “…”

The bushy-eyebrowed Wise Man had indeed overlooked the simplicity of the situation. Though he felt fear and indignation at the entire affair, once he viewed it through a calmer lens, he could remember what mattered:

Natsuki Subaru was, indeed, a human being. A knight of the kingdom—even if he didn’t like it—and someone who had achieved many feats for Lugunica that could not be dismissed or falsified.

Whatever failures or horrors were hidden behind his disgusting power… would have to be overlooked.

Just as they would have to overlook any crime of the Sword Saint.

This was a truth understood by all who held authority: the strong and the useful get away with more in this world. They might not be as ruthless as Vollachia, but they were no less human.

And that was the fact Miklotov needed to remind his friend and colleague of, so they could work toward an amicable conclusion.

Bordeaux exhaled, slow and resigned.

Bordeaux: “No… you are correct. We shall send word to the Margrave—after this meeting. It will not be simple to have the Sword Saint alone again for some time, considering we have only two days before that device starts up again.”

Miklotov: “I am glad we are on the same page. Now… let us wait.”

With a grunt of agreement, Bordeaux sat down.

And the two Wise Men waited until…

A few minutes later, the doors opened, and a red-haired, sword-wielding young man walked into the core chamber—dragging along a sleazy noble and an attending knight.

—

Reinhard walked alongside Rickert and the escort with the same regal, blank expression he always wore—an expression that only softened when he was with Felt or Subaru. He could feel the man’s eyes following him ever since they left the Astrea estate, but he ignored it.

Reinhard did not feel nervous around others. He had no reason to be.

Physically, no one could hurt him.

Emotionally, his Divine Protections kept him steady, preventing irrational stress from danger or threat.

The only kind of fear he ever felt was emotional fear—fear of breaking bonds, damaging trust, or failing the people he cared for.

Not insults.

Not accusations.

Not being called a monster.

He had long accepted that title as truth, and any resentment toward him as justified.

But his relationships—that was different.

He cared deeply for many, yet few cared for him.

His grandfather had abandoned their bond.

His father openly despised him.

But now he had the Felt Camp.

And he had Subaru.

And Subaru had just been killed on the screen.

Killed—three times.

And Reinhard had done nothing.

He had done nothing.

The guilt hollowed him quietly as he walked toward the palace, the summons from the Wise Men heavy on his mind. He knew they were displeased with how he acted, but that mattered little.

He was off duty.

He had every right to overlook the events, especially because no one had actually died.

And more importantly, there was no law requiring him to report or intervene in such incidents.

Lugunica had no strict statute mandating the immediate reporting of every theft or misconduct.

No one acted when Felt stole the Royal Insignia.

No citizen tried to stop her.

No guard attempted an arrest.

Not because they approved—but because there was no legal obligation to intervene, and no consequences for failing to do so.

Reinhard had simply acted the way anyone in Lugunica did in similar circumstances.

He knew this.

The nobles knew this.

Even the Wise Men knew this.

There was nothing they could hold against him.

He would not have to force calm; the Divine Protections would ensure it.

But still…

Subaru had died.

And Reinhard could not stop lamenting his own failure as the memory replayed—once, twice, thrice—that horrible moment echoing within him in ways physical danger never could.

And so he walked in, ready to defend himself, his lady, and Subaru if necessary. 

—

What followed was of little consequence. The Wiseman tried to reprimand him while Reinhard listened and nodded. He explained his position and stated that, should the Wisemen order him to act differently in the future, he would act in accordance with their command.

The problems arose when Rickert decided to ask permission to speak.

Rickert: “May I?”

Bordeaux: “What is it?”

He answered with annoyance, but with willingness to listen.

(Rash with words, not actions, he had said…)

Miklotov: “Indeed. Please speak your mind, Rickert-san.”

After coughing into his fist, one hand behind his back, Rickert stepped forward—standing slightly ahead of Reinhard, but facing both him and the council.

Though it was foolish to turn one’s back on the Sword Saint.

Rickert: “I wish to bring up a question to Reinhard-dono here.”

Reinhard gave a quiet nod, as did the Wisemen, while the knight attendant by the door stood stiffly.

After a pause, Rickert asked the question everyone had been thinking:

Rickert: “Could you, Reinhard-dono… kill Natsuki Subaru should the need arise?”

Everyone went quiet—but no one stayed still.

The knight at the door flinched.

The Wisemen narrowed their eyes.

And Reinhard himself turned his head—only his head—to look properly at the man who had just asked if he could kill his friend.

His expression did not shift.

He thought for a moment, uncaring that he made them wait.

Could he kill Natsuki Subaru?

The simple answer was yes.

He could kill him.

It wouldn’t stick—that would be the issue.

Then he remembered how the Dragon Sword Reid had considered Subaru a viable opponent—worthy in all that mattered—and his confidence sharpened. Yes, if he needed to, all it would take was a single slice.

But again: it would not last.

And wasn’t that the problem?

Reinhard smiled.

Reinhard: “No. I do not believe I could.”

Ignoring the grunts of shock, confusion, and disappointment, he kept smiling.

No—he could not kill him.

He never could.

He had failed so many in the past, hurt those who loved him, killed his own grandmother and left his mother comatose.

But he could never do the same to Subaru.

His friend was on his level.

And what truly gave him joy was something else:

When Subaru first met him, he knew nothing of the monster Reinhard really was — and still didn’t fear him.

And even a year and a half after learning the truth, even after seeing what Reinhard truly was and what he could do…

Subaru still did not fear him.

He didn’t fear the man who could kill anyone.

And he never would.

Because Subaru could not die.

He could not die.

—

In Pristella, the city was abuzz with chatter.

People were all discussing the possibilities for what had been revealed.

And as humans are always self-centered creatures — not in a bad way, it’s simply natural — they had been talking nonstop about which arc they thought would cover the events of Pristella.

After all, if Arc 1 already showed him saving a princess with the Sword Saint himself appearing, and if Pristella knew he fought side-by-side with that same Sword Saint to save that same princess and won, then it only made sense to expect a heroic tale.

Some said it would be Arc 4, since Arc 1 was now known, Arc 2 would be the White Whale, and Arc 3 would be the Sin Archbishop of Sloth.

Some agreed but added that Pristella would be the remaining arcs, covering all five Archbishops that attacked —

that the whole nine arcs would be the saga of the hero who destroyed the Witch Cult, one Archbishop at a time.

None of them knew how personal the story would get:

of the enemies he had killed but were yet unknown,

of the tower conquered and the war won.

So they continued to talk and talk and talk, making wild theories while preparing their city for a holiday environment in two days’ time — conveniently ignoring the deaths that took place in favor of listening to Liliana spew heroic reveries into the city-wide metia.

Liliana’s voice rang across the metia network, bright and bubbling with excitement, completely drowning out the city’s nervous energy.

Liliana: “Ladies and gents and everyone in between—! Isn’t this thrilling?! A tale of destiny! A tale of mystery! A tale of a hero who can apparently die a whole bunch and still keep going—ah, not that that part is thrilling, poor guy, it was so scary, but you know what I mean!!”

She practically sparkled through the broadcast, hands surely waving somewhere as she spoke of thing she could never understand.

Liliana: “Now then! What could come next, I wonder? Oooh, maybe he’ll learn secret sword techniques from a wandering hermit! Or—wait, wait—maybe he’ll unlock a hidden destiny written in the stars! Oh! Or perhaps he’ll gather a troupe of brave, shining companions and travel the world performing deeds so grand that even the observers applaud!!”

People passing by shook their heads fondly.

This was peak Liliana.

Liliana: “And—and maybe we’ll get a romantic twist! Kyaaa~! Though knowing Natsuki-kun he’ll probably trip over his own feet and propose by accident to a shrub or something—BUT STILL! Exciting!”

Her words came fast, barely filtered, each theory more ridiculous than the last—but none unkind.

Her cheer was infectious, painting the event in bright colors that almost hid the shadows underneath.

Liliana: “Ahh, whatever happens, everyone, listen closely! A hero’s tale isn’t made of victories alone! It’s made of heart! And song! And spirit! And sometimes… a little bit of foolishness! But that is what makes it beautiful!”

Even in the midst of fear, her passion lifted the mood of the whole city—not by denying the truth, but by reminding them that stories were meant to be followed, not feared. 

It was for this reason that out of all the nations and cities in the world, only Pristella stood as a last bastion of total support for their hero—Natsuki Subaru.

—

A little under two days later, Reala stood in the doorway of her modest Pristella home, hand hovering near the windowsill as she glanced between the metia’s glowing projection outside and the two children eagerly gathered in her living room.

Tick, tick, tick…

Fred and Rafiel were practically vibrating with excitement, whispering theories back and forth.

Despite their enthusiasm, Reala watched them with a tight, anxious smile.

She wanted—truly wanted—to let them watch.

After all… she wanted to see it too.

Her mind drifted back to the day everything changed: when five Sin Archbishops descended upon the city, tearing Pristella apart with chaos and fear.

Families had been scattered—swept into different shelters and makeshift safehouses. She had lost her husband to Lust’s transformation, still waiting for a cure. She’d been separated from both her children, forced to wait in frozen terror as the city shook and screamed around her. Every second without Fred or Rafiel had been a nightmare.

And yet somehow… a single boy’s voice had risen above the madness.

Subaru’s words had reached her children even when she couldn’t reach them herself. They still talked about him—about how hearing his voice had helped them hold on, even as the Sin Archbishops choked the city.

And Lusbel and Tina… they had been hostages of Wrath. Saved by that same boy in the chaos.

If anyone deserved to witness the truth of Subaru’s story, it was these children—though whether the red-heads would actually get to watch was another matter. They had left a while ago to plead with their stubborn parents again, but chances were slim. After all, their parents had allowed them into Reala’s house precisely because they wouldn’t allow them to watch the viewing.

Both pairs of parents had already made their harsh judgment:

Natsuki Subaru was a monster—someone who had deliberately let Pristella burn to the Witch Cult he must surely have belonged to.

But—

Reala swallowed hard.

She also remembered the screaming.

The explosions.

The terror of not knowing whether her son and daughter were alive.

And she remembered the quiet vow she had made:

“No more violence for them. Not if I can help it.”

And there was nothing more violent than death. 

Just as the guilt began to outweigh everything else, hurried footsteps rushed toward the house—again.

The door rattled, then flung open.

Lusbel: “Reala-san!! Reala-san!!”

Tina nearly crashed into him, panting.

Fred: “Lusbel! Tina! You made it!”

Tina, still breathless, nodded vigorously.

Tina: “W-We talked to our parents again! They’re still sayin’ no! They said it’s too scary, too dangerous!”

Lusbel: “So please, Reala-san! If you say no too, we won’t get to watch at all!”

Fred and Rafiel froze.

Reala’s heart clenched.

Tina stepped forward, voice trembling—not with fear, but with hope.

Tina: “We just wanna see the hero who saved us!!”

Lusbel clenched his fists tight.

Lusbel: “And… and we wanna know what happened! We wanna see him again! He saved us… and we didn’t even get to thank him…”

Silence fell.

Reala looked at the four small faces before her—faces that had survived a nightmare no child should ever know. Faces that had been separated into different shelters while the Archbishops prowled the city, and yet somehow still held onto their innocence.

She exhaled.

Reala: “…Alright.”

Four heads snapped up instantly.

Reala: “You may watch. All of you.”

Excitement burst across their faces like sunlight breaking through clouds.

She raised one finger—stern but trembling slightly.

Reala: “But only under one condition. The moment something violent happens, you all close your eyes. Immediately. No arguing.”

They didn’t hesitate for even a second.

All four: “Yes!!”

Reala allowed herself a small smile as they scrambled into place around the metia’s glow, buzzing with joy.

She sat beside them—still worried, still afraid—but for once, allowing her hope to speak louder than her fear.

After all…

They weren’t watching a tragedy.

They were watching the story of the boy who saved them all.

And she needed to see that story too.

Reala: “Their parents are going to be furious… but if they want to take this from the kids, they’ll have to come all the way here. And I’ll just act like I had no idea.”

She smirked to herself. “Good luck, kids.”

It was a small, harmless bit of scheming—one that relied on two very convenient facts:

the parents’ fear of leaving their homes while the metia projection was visible, and the simple truth that Tina and Lusbel’s parents didn’t actually know where their children had run off to.

Satisfied with her plan, Reala finally settled onto the floor beside the children, pulling the batch of snacks she had prepared earlier closer. She was grateful she’d bought them before every stall in Pristella sold out to families just as eager to watch the hero’s story.

With a deep breath, she joined the four children in front of the glowing metia—ready to see what came next.

—

Todd didn’t spare much time to look at the ticking countdown as he stepped into the small cabin he and his wife called home.

Katya, who had turned toward the metia in frightened disbelief, whipped her head toward him the moment she noticed him moving.

She wasn’t the only one in the world asking the same question.

What do we do now?

Katya: “T-Todd! W-Where are you g-going?!”

Todd paused—just long enough to give her the courtesy of eye contact, something he reserved only for her.

Todd: “Just going in to pack our stuff.”

Katya blinked rapidly.

Katya: “W-What?! W-Why?!”

Todd stopped fully this time, shoulders rising with a slow, resigned sigh.

Todd: “Look, Katya—”

He pointed at the screen outside, where the countdown kept falling… tick… tick… tick…

Todd: “That’s the countdown to our doom. It’s clear they’re going to show the brat’s memories of death. And it’s just as clear he’s got the support of people who cherish him. You know how it is—once someone hurts the one you cherish, you want nothing but death for the one responsible.”

Katya: “Y-Yeah, but what does that have to do with you packing our stuff?! T-This is our home, we can’t just leave!”

Todd shook his head.

Todd: “I’m not saying we will leave. Right now, this is the safest place we could be. The brat doesn’t know where we live, so it’ll never be shown. We’re far from people, but close enough to Kararagi’s border to run if things turn bad. There’s no better position than this.”

Katya’s silence stretched thin and trembling.

Todd continued.

Todd: “But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. The fact is, that kid was my enemy. And that enemy was just revealed to be immortal. That means—given his behavior—that I’ve killed him before. And if that gets shown…”

He tapped his temple.

Todd: “…then every strong bastard who cares about him is gonna paint a target on me. If they bother to come after us, we need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

He walked past her, calm and methodical.

Todd: “I’m simply preparing. That’s all.”

…

Katya sat frozen in her wheelchair on the cabin’s front deck long after Todd disappeared into the other room to pack, her breath shallow and uneven as his words rolled again and again through her mind.

“That kid was my enemy… that means I’ve killed him before.”

She accepted it immediately — almost automatically.

Because in Vollachia, the weak die.

She had grown up learning that lesson every single day, watching people with no strength vanish from the streets, from the ranks, from life itself, without anyone shedding a tear. If someone was fragile, untrained, or unlucky, that was simply the end of them. Pity was a luxury only strong people could afford.

And she… had never been strong.

So she did not pity the boy on the screen. His death — or deaths — were sad in the same distant, impersonal way that a stranger’s misfortune was sad. If anything, her only brief pang of sorrow was for Rem, because the girl had always seemed… nice, and Katya didn’t want her friend to suffer.

But even that thought faded as quickly as it came.

What lingered was something else entirely:

Todd killed him.

But she felt no anger, no disgust, no moral outrage. Just… acceptance.

Todd had survived. Todd had returned to her. Todd was alive. That was what mattered. The boy was not. Weakness had consequences. In Vollachia, everyone knew that.

Still…

A small knot tightened at the base of her throat as another memory rose — from just a few weeks ago, barely a month. Subaru had come to her door with exhaustion in his eyes, telling her that her husband was most likely dead.

He had looked genuinely sorry for her.

Genuinely apologetic.

Like he truly regretted bringing her pain.

But if her husband had killed him — if at any point he had been Todd’s enemy — then why hadn’t Subaru been angry? Why show sympathy? Why warn her with kindness instead of resentment?

The logic didn’t fit, it contradicted itself.

Unless…

Unless Subaru was simply insane.

Or perhaps her husband had never killed him at all.

Or maybe that guy’s ability muddled everything so thoroughly that even the truth refused to stay still.

Katya lowered her head, chewing on her nails in nervous anticipation.

Whatever the explanation was, she had no power to untangle it.

And she didn’t need to.

Her first priority — her only priority — was Todd. Her husband. Her life. The man who kept her safe in a world that crushed people like her without hesitation.

If something dangerous surfaced on that screen in two days… if her husband’s actions were shown for all the world to see…

She felt her stomach twist.

She would pray — desperately — that the metia never showed anything incriminating.

She would let Todd do the thinking, the planning, the surviving — like he was good at.

And she would sit, quietly, nervously, waiting for whatever doom or safety the next viewing revealed.

Because weak people don’t shape Vollachia.

They endure it.

And Katya would endure — as long as Todd stood between her and the world.

—

The world held countless factions scattered across its lands, all of which watched the metia’s projection with some mixture of shock, fear, or curiosity.

But none watched it with such hate as the splintered remains of the Witch’s Cult.

This particular cell consisted of the surviving cultists spread throughout the four kingdoms — remnants left behind after their Archbishops were killed or captured. Most of them had once served under the Archbishop of Sloth, for he had been the only one diligent enough to monitor the movements of those outside his own madness.

The man who now led them was a merchant from the Kararagi City-States. Publicly, he was celebrated as a wealthy, respectable figure who oversaw the western trade routes relied upon by countless travelers. Though not a noble, society treated him like one.

Only someone with his influence, subtlety, and caution could plan the escape of the remaining Archbishops without being caught.

He maintained communication with “Mama,” though never directly — even attempting such a thing would mean certain death. Nearly half of the messengers he sent were slaughtered when they reached her, yet Capella still entertained the idea of cooperating… at least enough to discuss the release of her “child,” Roy Alphard.

Not out of maternal affection — she felt none.

But as an act of twisted mercy for the one who loved her, who gave her the attention she deserved and was owed.

But returning to the pseudo-leader of this fractured cult —

The man’s name was Dorrell, and he was currently making his way toward a concealed meeting chamber beneath his mansion.

He crossed the back garden with measured steps, heading for a small detached structure connected to the main estate. Without hesitation, he opened its unremarkable wooden door and descended a long, narrow spiral staircase alone. Each step echoed softly, swallowed by the darkness below.

At the bottom, he found himself facing a single, semi-large ironbound door.

Dorrell looked perfectly ordinary: gray hair neatly slicked back, gray eyes set in a perpetually warm and harmless smile — the practiced face of a merchant who had never once been suspected of treason. Yet here he stood at the threshold of a place that should not exist.

It was silent.

Far too silent.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because behind that door lay a vast underground hall — one large enough to house two hundred cultists, all of whom proudly called themselves devout servants of the Witch. The fact that not even a whisper seeped through the door was proof of the layered magical barriers protecting the cult’s secrecy.

After a steadying breath, Dorrell pressed his hand to the door and pushed it open.

Instantly, a wall of noise—shouting, chanting, frenzied muttering—burst outward into the stairwell.

A heartbeat later, he stepped inside and swung the door shut behind him.

The moment it clicked into place,

silence.

A perfect, unnatural silence fell across the hall, hundreds of mouths snapping shut as every pair of eyes turned to their leader.

They all parted instinctively, creating a pathway as Dorrell walked toward the stage positioned at the far end of the hall, directly opposite the entrance door. Along both the left and right walls stood rows of narrow doors that led to hidden passages — passages the cultists had quietly used over the past day and a half to gather here in secrecy.

Dorrell ascended the side steps with deliberate calm, then strode to the center of the stage.

Every single eye in the chamber fixed itself upon him.

A tension hung in the air — anticipatory, hungry.

And then his face contorted—

Dorrell: “WELCOME!”

His shout cracked like a whip, echoing off the stone.

Dorrell: “I am so joyous to see my DEAR DILIGENT and FAITHFUL believers!!!”

The man who had moments ago appeared quiet and polite now bellowed his words with mad fervor, a feverish gleam lighting his expression as he addressed the assembly.

The crowd exploded, erupting into a storm of sycophantic cheers and praises that shook the chamber.

Dorrell: “Although I feel joy at being the one to address the Witch’s believers in love, I am most devastated to report that our proud, most DILIGENT leaders — the Archbishops who project our purest love in our name back to the Witch — are still most UNJUSTLY indisposed!!!”

He lamented those final words with theatrical anguish, dragging his fingers down his face as though clawing grief from his skin, then leaning back in a dramatic arch as if physically buckling beneath the tragedy he proclaimed.

His declaration sent an immediate ripple through the masses — a rising wail of despair, outrage, and devotion swelling from every corner of the hall. The cultists cried out in shared misery, feeding off one another’s frenzy, their collective grief ignited by the pseudo-leader’s mournful performance he also took real part in.

The cultists were of every kind: men, women, young and old, of every part of society screamed for the release of their beloved leaders, Dorrell sliced through the noise with a booming proclamation.

Dorrell: “But do not FRET! For the one who embodies our most primal love — LUST — is working ever so diligently to free our professors in love!!”

The hall erupted again—shrieks, cheers, manic declarations of devotion echoing off stone.

Dorrell: “BUT!! … It was not even two days ago that the world once more displayed its INSOLENCE! It dared to project the face of the one we call our greatest enemy! BUT WHAT JOY!!! He died!”

A frenzied roar swallowed the hall.

Dorrell: “That BOY dared to call that PRETENDER by the name of our beloved! He dared use ignorance as his excuse to DISRESPECT HER! He was—WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!!!”

Crowd: “AHHHHH!!!!!”

Dorrell: “And as penance—HE WAS KILLED!!!”

After speaking — shouting — about the phenomena in his own crazy way, Dorrell continued on to his point.

Dorrell: “And now—NOW—it seems we will witness the continuation of his punishment! We must learn EVERYTHING! Everything about this boy, this so-called hero, and uncover the weakness of his disgusting curse! And when we do—WE WILL PUT HIM DOWN LIKE THE HERETIC HE IS!!!”

The cultists howled in glee, drunk on delusion.

As if destiny favored them.

As if being hated by the world somehow placed fortune on their side.

As if their bishops had not been slaughtered, scattered, or captured.

As if they—this tattered remnant of a broken creed—had any chance of killing the immortal hero known as Natsuki Subaru.

They would remain here, packed shoulder-to-shoulder within the vast underground hall. Only those absolutely necessary would be permitted to leave. The rest would wait, trembling with frenzied anticipation, watching the strange device positioned behind Dorrell on the stage—its numbers ticking down with a relentless, metallic rhythm.

tick, tick, tick, tick…

—

Within the southernmost area of the dragon kingdom on the border with Vollachia lay the Commercial City of Picoutatte.

The town had been in disarray since the screen first appeared above their bustling desert trade-hub.

The city, considered one of the five great ones of Lugunica, was a nexus for trade both legal and illegal, and having that flow disrupted was quite the shock for a place that normally cared very little for heroic tales.

While each district reacted in its own way—merchants fantasizing about profitable information from another world, slaves feeling a flicker of hope from the appearance of Felt, and crowds collectively recoiling at the death displayed overhead—there was one household whose response carried more weight than most.

The Suwen family.

Yaktol Suwen, the family’s elder and the one whose authority none questioned, had watched the final seconds of the projection fade before clearing his throat and summoning those present into the inner room of their home. Mazeran arrived first, composed but visibly strained. Framir followed, hands folded neatly yet tense. Oslo took his seat with a measured calm, clearly unsettled but doing his best to keep steady.

When the door closed, Yaktol spoke—firm, but not grandiose.

Yaktol: “Alright… let’s keep our heads. As long as nothing threatens the city or us, there’s no need to lose our footing over what we saw.”

The attempt at calm worked well enough.

Even so, the family could not ignore what they all felt: deep worry. The authority displayed, the implications of what had been shown, and the existence of a boy who could seemingly die and return—it struck all of them harder than they wanted to admit.

Framir: “Regardless of how alarming it is, none of this involves us directly. Whatever power that child holds, it does not change what we must do here.”

Mazeran nodded, though his jaw tightened.

Mazeran: “Yes. We stay level-headed. If anything threatens Picoutatte, we act. If not, then we remain where we are needed.”

Oslo folded his arms, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Oslo: “And there’s no harm in learning from what comes next. Information is still information. Could be valuable, could be necessary.”

Yaktol let out a dry huff of agreement.

Yaktol: “Exactly. We’re merchants first. Whatever’s coming, it’s better to know than not know. And if the city ends up needing anything from us… well, we’ll be ready to help.”

The family shared a brief, lighter exhale—just enough to diffuse the tension without dispelling the seriousness of the moment.

Underneath their reserved tones lived the truth they didn’t voice: they were horrified at the scale of what had been shown. Horrified at the authority the boy held. And horrified at the thought that the next viewing might reveal something worse.

But they were Suwens.

They didn’t panic. They prepared.

Yaktol glanced back toward the doorway and nodded once.

Yaktol: “Alright. The viewing won’t restart for two days. Let’s get back to work. The world doesn’t stop just because we’re shaken.”

The others murmured in agreement.

Framir and Oslo exchanged a purposeful look—already planning which neighbors, partners, and friendly families they should invite to join them for the next viewing. Strength in unity. Calm through community. If the city was going to face something uncertain, the least they could do was make sure no one faced it alone.

As the family dispersed to resume their daily duties, one quiet truth held firm between them:

When the time came, they would sit and watch together.

And they would be ready.

—

Chapter Text

—

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Subaru: “So… we should talk…”

As he uttered those words with an awkward smile—scratching his head with one hand and holding the hand of the spirit sitting on his lap with the other—he received quite the shocked response.

Everyone was looking at the screen.

At the countdown.

Roswaal’s constant smirk was wiped away, replaced with a grimace.

Frederica had a hand over her mouth, stunned, while holding Petra close.

Sylphy was looking at Emilia, silently begging for guidance.

Clind was watching Roswaal carefully while remaining by Annerose’s side,

and Annerose herself looked back and forth between the countdown and Subaru.

Ram held Rem’s hand tightly as the two sisters stared at the numbers ticking down.

Tick, tick, tick…

Garfiel was looking at Otto, who was in turn looking at Subaru—until Otto finally spoke.

Otto: “Yes, we do. Everyone, get up. We are having a meeting.”

Emilia, who had been staring helplessly at the falling numbers, snapped into focus as she jolted upright in fright.

Garfiel, already poised and waiting for Otto’s direction, was the first to respond, standing abruptly.

Garfiel: “Y-Yeah, Otto-bro! We r-really gotta talk—my amazin’ self’s really confused.”

No one added anything more.

Silently, heavily, they all rose and followed Otto back into the manor—

each step weighed down by the knowledge that this conversation would most definitely reveal a story they had all dreaded to hear.

As they walked toward the meeting room, Subaru felt Beatrice’s tiny hand tighten around his own. He squeezed back without thinking, grateful for the anchor. His legs moved automatically, but his mind was spinning far ahead of him—straight into the conversation he did not want to have.

This was it.

All the secrets he never intended to reveal, all the deaths, all the things he had glued shut behind a smile…

In two days’ time, the world would see everything.

And before that happened, his family—his camp—deserved to hear it from him.

His stomach knotted.

He glanced around at everyone walking with him, and the weight in his chest doubled.

Emilia was right behind him, arms folded tight in front of herself, her face pale with worry she wasn’t bothering to hide. The moment he saw the fear in her eyes, a needle of guilt jabbed straight into his heart.

Great. Fantastic. Add “making Emilia worry herself sick” to today’s list of accomplishments. Well done, Natsuki Subaru.

He swallowed hard.

He wanted to tell her something reassuring, but his throat had decided to be useless.

And then, of course, there was Roswaal.

Subaru’s gaze flicked sideways, catching the clown in that too-calm, too-thoughtful expression he always wore when he was calculating. Except now, the usual theatrical curve of his lips was gone; now he looked like a man staring directly at the treasure he’d been hunting for years.

What does this mean for our deal…?

That deal — that threat — echoed through his mind.

Roswaal had sworn that if any member of the camp died, he would kill every remaining person himself to force Subaru to reset.

Roswaal didn’t know that “resetting” meant Subaru’s death.

But now he did.

And Subaru couldn’t predict which way the scales would tip.

Will he go through with it now that he knows exactly what it costs me…? Will he kill me without hesitation the moment anything goes wrong? Or will he pretend nothing has changed and cling to the old rules like nothing happened?

Either way, Roswaal had already slipped that smug little grin back onto his painted face.

Subaru couldn’t read him — and that scared him more than the deal itself.

He looked ahead, forcing his attention away from the clown and back toward the hallway.

Every step felt heavier.

The manor felt smaller, too—like the walls knew he was cornered and were politely closing in.

Behind him he could hear Garfiel muttering under his breath, Petra sniffling against Frederica’s side, Ram guiding Rem gently forward…

They were all scared.

Because of him.

Because the truth he had held alone for so long was finally loose, uncontainable, unstoppable.

But even through the dread, another feeling flickered—something selfish, fragile, real.

I want them to know. I’ve wanted to tell them for so long.

I just… didn’t want it to hurt them.

He wasn’t afraid of confessing.

He was afraid of watching them break over something he couldn’t take back.

Subaru lowered his head a little.

I’m really sorry, everyone… but I don’t know how else to do this.

With Beatrice’s hand in his, with the whole camp’s footsteps echoing behind him, Subaru took a breath and stepped through the doorway of the meeting room.

The conversation he dreaded was waiting.

They entered the dining hall in a heavy, deliberate silence.

The long table dominated the room, its polished surface catching the dim light as everyone moved to their places with quiet purpose.

Roswaal took his seat at the head of the table. Behind him, Ram and Frederica stood in their customary positions—calm, composed, watchful.

Clind guided Annerose to the seat at Roswaal’s left before stepping back to stand behind her, hands folded neatly.

Emilia sat to Roswaal’s right, her movements tense. Subaru took the chair beside her, Beatrice settling onto his lap with gentle insistence. Otto slid into the next seat, followed by Garfiel, whose usual bravado was replaced with uneasy stillness.

Rem walked behind Subaru and Emilia in her position. 

On Roswaal’s left, Meili quietly took her seat, small hands folded in her lap. The others followed suit, forming a neat but somber line down the table.

By the door, Petra and Sylphie stood side by side—alert, composed, and waiting.

When the last chair stilled, the room fell into complete silence. No one dared speak. No one dared move.

They were all in place.

And now, there was nothing left but the truth that would follow.

Roswaal let silence bloom, milking it, watching Subaru like a cat watches a mouse. Then, with an exaggerated inhale, he finally spoke.

Roswaal: “Sooooooo~ Subaru-kun. Anything you wouuuld liiike to say before we begin~?”

Before Subaru could even look up, Otto stepped in sharply.

Otto: “Roswaal-sama. With respect—please refrain from speaking for now.”

The table seemed to tilt with how abruptly the temperature shifted. Roswaal’s mismatched eyes narrowed, but Otto didn’t look away. He bowed his head, perfectly polite, perfectly firm.

Then Otto turned to Emilia.

Otto: “Emilia-sama… I apologize for the imposition. But I can see that this is especially difficult for you. And as your internal affairs officer, and someone responsible for managing information and communication within the camp, I believe I should lead this conversation. Only if you agree.”

Emilia’s amethyst eyes trembled—but she nodded.

A small nod from Ram.

A quiet one from Frederica.

A firm one from Garfiel.

Even Roswaal inclined his head after a heartbeat, mask firmly reattached.

With permission granted, Otto straightened.

Inside—he nearly collapsed.

He was terrified.

Not of Subaru—never of Subaru—but of everything he had failed to see.

He had spent so long protecting them, both Emilia and Subaru, with every tool he possessed.

He had believed himself competent.

He had believed he understood the dangers.

But now the entire world knew something he hadn’t even suspected.

Their enemies knew.

Roswaal knew.

Factions across every nation knew.

And Subaru—

Subaru had been carrying this alone.

His heart hammered, panic scraping the inside of his ribs, screaming that he should shake Subaru until answers fell out, then crush him in a hug until all this suffering dissolved.

But none of that mattered right now.

He inhaled.

He forced every trembling emotion down.

He had to be Emilia-sama’s shield.

He had to be Subaru’s anchor.

He had to keep the entire room from collapsing under the weight of the truth.

So he asked the question that mattered most.

Otto: “Natsuki-san… before we discuss anything else, and so we can plan properly—please explain the rules of your ability. As you understand them.”

A simple question on paper.

A world-ending one in reality.

Subaru blinked, startled for a second by the directness.

Then he smiled—small, nervous, but unmistakably relieved.

Subaru: “Oh—yeah. I mean… I never thought I’d actually be able to talk about this, but… sure.”

He adjusted Beatrice on his lap, laced their fingers together, and finally looked the group in the eyes.

Subaru cleared his throat, still wearing that strange, almost dazed smile — the kind that said he couldn’t believe this was happening, but was doing his best to play along anyway.

Subaru: “Right, uh… the rules. So… basically, it only activates when I die.”

A ripple went down the table — subtle, but impossible to miss.

He pretended not to notice, thumb brushing over Beatrice’s hand for grounding.

Subaru: “And when I say die, I mean any kind of death. Heart stops, brain shuts down… either one does the job. Both have happened before, actually, which is — you know — pretty wild.”

His tone was light.

Too light.

The room froze the way prey animals do when they hear a twig snap in a forest.

Subaru kept going, almost clinically.

Subaru: “When that happens, I go back in time to a previous point. A checkpoint, basically. Only I don’t choose the point. If I could do that, the ability would be totally OP — like, broken beyond reason.”

Garfiel blinked at the term.

Otto flinched because he understood enough to know “OP” was not good.

Emilia’s hand curled tight in her lap.

Subaru continued, still in explanation mode:

Subaru: “So yeah, I don’t set the save points. Those get chosen for me by… the Witch of Envy.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

No one moved.

Subaru gave a small shrug, still awkwardly smiling, as though talking about a mildly inconvenient clerk at a store.

Subaru: “As far as I can tell, the save points are designed only to protect me. Like… I get sent back to a place that keeps me alive, not necessarily to a point where everything can still be fixed.”

His voice dipped for half a second — a tiny break in the mask.

Like with Rem…

The thought stabbed up automatically.

He swallowed it.

Hard.

He did not look toward Ram.

He did not look toward Rem.

He did not let the apology rise to his lips, because saying sorry wouldn’t change anything, and this wasn’t the moment for it.

Not yet.

Subaru exhaled lightly and pushed forward.

Subaru: “So yeah. That’s basically how it works. I die, everything resets to whatever save-point Envy picked, and… that’s it. That’s the whole rule set as far as I understand it.”

The silence that followed felt like a living thing.

Everyone at the table sat very still — too still — holding themselves together with force of will alone.

Subaru just kept smiling that thin, helpless smile, because what else was he supposed to do?

Sylphy stood by the door beside Petra, both girls’ fingers tightening around the fabric of their maid aprons as Subaru’s explanation settled over the room like a suffocating fog.

For Sylphy, the words pulled her straight back to the moment she was saved from the Sin Archbishop of Greed—how Emilia had given her hope, but how it was Subaru who had ultimately arrived and torn her from the jaws of a fate she’d already accepted.

He says “heart stopping, brain shutting down” like he’s explaining chores…

That awkward smile, that gentle voice—it made no sense.

Why does he look like that? Why does he sound like this is normal?

Of course she knew he’d been carrying this alone. They all knew he couldn’t speak of it.

But now… hearing him say it…

How many times has he been through this…? For how many people…?

Petra’s breath hitched.

I know he died. I saw it. Three times was already too much—but nine? Nine entire arcs? Another eight we haven’t even seen?

And the way he talked—calm, polite, almost cheerful—just made it worse.

Is this how he saved me? Saved my friends? Saved everyone here?

Then, beneath the fear, something sharper flared.

Anger.

If anyone hurt him—if anyone killed him—I’ll never forgive them.

Her eyes flicked toward Roswaal, a spark of hatred she didn’t bother hiding.

Behind Roswaal, Frederica kept her hands clasped before her, posture dignified, eyes trembling just slightly.

We saw him die… but hearing the rules laid out like that—it’s so much worse.

A cold dread settled deep in her chest as she watched him.

He saved Garfiel. He saved me. He saved this household. He brought us all hope.

And now the truth behind that hope was unavoidable.

Was it all built on him dying over and over, with no one knowing?

No—he had wanted them to know.

He simply couldn’t.

Three hearts.

Three histories.

Three kinds of gratitude, guilt, and fear—

all twisting tighter with every quiet, matter-of-fact word Subaru spoke.

…

Otto swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the table.

Otto: “Okay. That’s terrifying. Actually terrifying. But I can’t flinch. Not now. Not in front of him.”

He didn’t dare look at Emilia, or Roswaal, or anyone at all —

if he saw even a glimpse of their expressions right now, he knew he’d crack.

So he simply nodded once, sharply, and kept his gaze on Subaru alone.

Otto: “Alright. Then… I’ll move to the next question. For the record — and so we can plan properly — how many times have you… used this ability? Even roughly?”

A few people flinched.

Subaru blinked, startled for only a heartbeat before the familiar, awkward smile tugged at his mouth.

Subaru: “Ah — uh — right. Um. Well… truth is, I know the rough number up to a certain point, but, uh… after that… I kinda… lost count? Pretty recently, actually.”

Beatrice’s grip on his sleeve tightened.

Subaru scratched his cheek.

Subaru: “It was this whole crazy thing, and—well, whatever, I don’t really like thinking about it. But I could figure it out. If you give me a second. Um — I guess I need paper? Pen? Something to write—”

He started to rise from his seat.

Before he could even stand, a hand appeared in front of him.

Ram’s.

A neatly prepared sheet of paper and a quill pinched between her fingers.

Ram: “There is no such thing as a pen, Barusu. But here is a quill and paper. Be quick — you are causing everyone concern.”

Her tone was sharp, teasing, the same biting normalcy she wielded like a lifeline.

Petra and Sylphy both exhaled shakily at the familiar sound.

Even Subaru gave a small, grateful laugh — quiet, but real.

He sat back down, took the quill, and leaned over the paper.

Subaru: “Alright, alright… give me a second. I’ll, uh… do the math.”

The room held its breath.

Every tiny scratch of the quill against parchment echoed louder than a scream.

Otto’s question—how many times have you used this ability—seemed to hang over the table like a second metia.

Roswaal’s painted smile had returned at some point, but now it wavered, eyes widening with something close to fascinated horror. Even he, who had gambled with Subaru’s life so shamelessly, clearly hadn’t expected that question… or the calm way Subaru had answered everything so far.

Across from him, Emilia pressed both hands over her mouth, amethyst eyes trembling.

Emilia: “Subaru… a-are you sure you want to do that? You don’t have to…”

He blinked at her, then gave a small, lopsided grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Subaru: “It’s okay. Really. I’ve… actually thought about doing this before. Writing it out, I mean. I just kept putting it off because I was busy, you know, relaxing and pretending I’m normal.”

A weak joke, but it was the best he could do.

Ram’s quill and paper were already in his hands. Beatrice shifted slightly on his lap as he continued writing.

From the others’ perspective, it was a blur of sharp, angular characters—narrow strokes and looping marks in a foreign script that meant nothing to anyone else in the room. Subaru’s quill scratched quickly, almost frantically, as if his hand were trying to outrun his own thoughts.

Line after line appeared:

• short clusters of unreadable letters followed by 3, 4, 4, 5, 3
  
  
• another block of script, then 26 circled once with a question mark next to it.
  
  
• “Vollachia” in his own language, underlined twice, with an 8 beside it
  
  
• next line: a long string of numbers — (20 × 60 × 60) = 72,000. 72,000 ÷ 11 ≈ 6,545.
  
  
• under that: 5 × 60 ÷ 1.5 ≈ 200
  
  
• another: 25 × 60 ÷ 10 = 150
  
  

No one could read the words, but the numbers were universal.

Subaru paused, staring at the mess of ink for a moment. Then, at the bottom of the page, he wrote a final line, larger than the rest:

≈ 6,948 + ?

He hesitated, added a small, uncertain circle around the question mark, then set the quill down. His fingers were faintly ink-stained when he lifted them away.

Subaru: “…There. That’s… roughly it. Plus the part I still need to figure out.”

He didn’t look at anyone as he said it. He just kept his eyes on the paper, on that last line, as the silence around the table tightened.

Subaru turned the page around, sliding it toward Otto with an awkward little half-smile.

Subaru: “So… give or take. If I add one more from what just happened — you know, Arc 9 probably — then, uh… maybe round it to about 6,950 plus question mark? Something like that.”

He scratched the back of his head, sheepish and painfully casual for someone discussing nearly seven thousand deaths.

The reaction was instant.

Emilia let out a tiny gasp, tears spilling before she even realized she was crying.

Emilia: “Subaru…”

Rem, standing just behind her and Subaru’s chair, took one full step back in shock, hand flying to her mouth.

Frederica stiffened where she stood behind Roswaal, breath caught halfway in her chest.

Garfiel lurched forward over the table, squinting as if the numbers might rearrange into something sane if he glared hard enough.

Garfiel: “…the hell kinda number is that…?”

Roswaal’s face twitched—twice, then three times—his painted smile freezing into something brittle and horrified. It was the look of a man who had finally realized he was not, in fact, the most unhinged person in the room.

And Otto…

Otto just stared.

His pupils shrank. His lips parted. His breath stopped.

Then—

Otto: “No. No—Natsuki-san, absolutely not, that cannot—there’s—WHAT!?”

His chair scraped violently as he shot to his feet.

Subaru blinked. “Otto—?”

But Otto was already grabbing him by both shoulders, fingers digging in, the composure he had fought for shattering like thin glass.

Otto: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘SOMETHING LIKE THAT!? Do you hear yourself!?”

He shook him—not harshly, but desperately, the way a drowning man grabs a floating plank.

Otto: “Six thousand nine hundred and fifty—SUBARU, THAT IS NOT A NUMBER YOU SAY WITH A SHRUG! That’s— that’s—do you even understand what that means!?”

Subaru: “U-Um… roughly?”

Otto actually made a sound between a growl and a sob.

Otto: “Roughly!? ROUGHLY!? THAT’S—THAT’S A POPULATION, NOT A PERSONAL BODY COUNT!!”

He shook him again, eyes wild with terror, fury, grief, and the crushing weight of helplessness.

Otto: “How—how could you even function after that!? How did you stand up after that!? HOW DID YOU NOT GO COMPLETELY MAD, NATSUKI-SAN!?”

The room was frozen. No one moved. No one breathed.

And then, as if all the strength had left him at once, Otto pulled Subaru into him, arms locking around him in a trembling, crushing hug.

Otto: “…How were you walking around smiling like nothing was wrong…? How were we supposed to know…? How could we have known we needed to help…?”

His voice cracked, raw and furious and heartbroken.

Otto: “Just—how could you expect any of us to endure even hearing that number… when you were the one who had to live it…?”

Subaru didn’t answer. His eyes dropped to the floor.

The ink on the page glistened wetly in the lamplight.

And around them, the horror settled in everyone’s bones like a cold, impossible truth.

Nearly seven thousand deaths.

Nearly seven thousand times alone.

And the meeting had only just begun.

Beatrice had been caught between the two of them when Otto lunged forward—Subaru’s arms around him, Otto’s arms around Subaru, and her tiny body squished against Subaru’s chest, unable to move.

But she didn’t even try to wiggle free.

She couldn’t.

Her small hands trembled where they had been pressed against Subaru’s shirt, and her breath hitched—once, twice—before tears spilled soundlessly down her cheeks.

Beatrice’s thoughts froze. Then shattered.

Beatrice: “Seven thousand…? Seven… thousand…?”

Her vision blurred.

Beatrice: “That’s why… That’s why he scratches himself bloody in his sleep, I suppose… That’s why Betty wakes to the smell of blood on his sheets… why his arms shake when he thinks she isn’t watching…”

Her throat tightened painfully.

Beatrice: “How could Betty have been so stupid? How could Betty not have understood? How could Betty have let this—this monstrosity of suffering fester beneath her nose, in fact?!”

The number echoed again in her skull, merciless.

Beatrice: “Seven thousand… and Betty never noticed… Betty never stopped it… Betty never—“

Her fingers curled into Subaru’s shirt, clutching the fabric like she might fall apart without the anchor.

Beatrice: “Betty failed. Completely. Utterly. Failed.”

She had known he struggled. She had known he hurt. She had known he carried something unbearable.

But this?

Beatrice: “Betty was supposed to be his shield… his warmth… his family… and yet Betty’s Subaru suffered through thousands of deaths, thousands of horrors Betty cannot even imagine, while Betty was at his side doing nothing—nothing—in fact!”

Her tears dripped silently onto Subaru’s sleeve.

Her heart twisted so hard she felt sick.

Beatrice: “Betty was supposed to protect you… and all this time, you were protecting Betty from the truth…”

And trapped between Otto’s panicked desperation and Subaru’s startled stillness, Beatrice’s world narrowed down to a single, unbearable realization:

Beatrice: “Betty didn’t save you even once.”

Subaru felt Beatrice trembling against him—really trembling—and his breath faltered. He pushed Otto away, but before he could adjust his hold on her or even speak her name again—

Emilia leaned forward sharply, eyes wide and shining, breath catching as she opened her mouth to say something—

And Roswaal cut her off.

Roswaal straightened in his chair, posture composed, voice smooth and crisp without his usual theatrical lilt.

Roswaal: “That’s enough.”

The entire table stopped.

Roswaal cast a single, sweeping look around the room—at Emilia’s tear-streaked cheeks, at Otto’s broken composure, at Garfiel’s claws half-extended, at Petra standing pale beside Sylphy, at Rem trembling behind Emilia, at Meili looking at the table in fear, at Annerose crying in confusion, at Clind who didn’t know how to comfort her, and finally at Subaru cradling Beatrice.

Roswaal: “…I believe we should take a break.”

His tone was calm, almost gentle, yet left no room for argument.

Roswaal: “Clearly Lady Beatrice is struggling with this revelation… and she is not the only one. If we continue now, we risk crushing Subaru-kun under the weight of everyone’s fear and confusion.”

A quiet shudder moved through the room.

Roswaal continued, folding his hands neatly on the table:

Roswaal: “It has been over two hours since this viewing began. It is already late. We should pause, breathe, and allow ourselves to settle.”

A small glance toward the door.

Roswaal: “The staff will prepare dinner.”

Sylphy, Petra, Clind, and Rem all jolted to attention, bowing quickly. Frederica stepped forward with composed obedience, and even Ram—now holding the paper Subaru had written on—inclined her head before moving to follow.

The entire room exhaled at once, as though released from a tightening grip.

Subaru sagged slightly in his chair, relief washing over his strained smile.

Subaru: “Y-Yeah… honestly, that’s probably smart.”

He shifted Beatrice carefully in his arms, brushing her hair from her shaking shoulders.

Subaru: “I am gonna answer every question you guys have. Just… there’s no need to overload you all at once.”

He gave a sheepish smile, trying to lighten the weight in the air.

Subaru: “And Beako… I think she kinda needs me right now.”

He held her a little closer.

Beatrice didn’t answer, but her small fingers curled into his jacket again—tight and desperate.

And so, without another question, without another push, the room moved into motion around them—

A brief, necessary pause before the truth broke them open again.

—

The room dissolved into movement the moment Roswaal dismissed them.

The entire maid staff—Ram, Frederica, Petra, Sylphy, Rem, and Clind—filed out together. Preparing dinner for this many people was always a task requiring every available hand, and tonight the work gave them something to focus on besides the ache twisting in their chests.

Annerose followed Clind in hopes of finding some stability.

Garfiel strode out through the back door, jaw clenched tight, heading straight for the stables.

When he arrived, Patrasche lifted her head the moment he entered, and Frufoo snorted softly beside her. Garfiel busied himself checking their reins, brushing their scales, adjusting their tack—anything to keep his hands moving and his mind from replaying the number Subaru had written on paper.

Meili slipped away quietly to her room, clutching her sleeves, a shadow following her steps. She had much to think about.

Roswaal, meanwhile, swept out of the dining hall with uncharacteristic urgency, heading straight for his study. His footsteps were sharp, deliberate—almost frantic beneath the elegance.

And Otto went after him immediately, feet moving before he consciously chose to follow.

He had too much to say, too many suspicions to confront, and no intention of letting Roswaal think this matter was his to control.

Emilia followed close behind, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She had a leader’s responsibilities now—she needed to communicate with two of the highest-ranking members of her camp.

That left the last pair in the quiet dining room.

Subaru gathered Beatrice in his arms, her small form still trembling faintly. Without a word, he rose from his seat and began the familiar walk through the manor’s corridors.

—

The door clicked softly behind them as they stepped into their room. The moment Subaru tried to lower Beatrice onto the bed, her tiny hands only clamped harder around him—tight, desperate, trembling. She wasn’t the Great Spirit right now, just a girl grieving the countless deaths of the person she cherished most.

Subaru paused for a second, instinctively wanting to joke or make things lighter—his usual reflex when emotions went off the rails.

But one look at Beatrice’s red, wet, crumpled expression shut that impulse down instantly.

No jokes right now.

“Yeah… this is exactly what I was scared of,” he thought, chest tightening.

Of course it would hurt her. Of course she’d react like this. I didn’t want her to see it—not like that.

He exhaled slowly and adjusted his hold on her.

Then he sat down on the bed with her still clinging to him, letting her bury her face against his shoulder, her breath hitching in small, painful gasps.

He didn’t move or talk or try to fix anything.

He knew better.

Beatrice needed time. She needed to feel it.

Minutes passed—slow and quiet—marked only by her uneven sobs. Subaru stayed still, letting her cling to him as tightly as she needed. Ten minutes slipped by, then fifteen. By around twenty minutes, her sobs had softened, her grip still firm but no longer frantic.

Subaru let out a small breath of acceptance.

“At least she’s letting it out,” he thought. “Better this than pretending nothing’s wrong.”

He kept holding her.

And she kept holding him.

Because right now, that was all either of them could do.

After several long, quiet minutes, Subaru finally shifted a little, brushing Beatrice’s hair with a shaky hand.

Subaru: “Look, Beako… I’m sorry, I—”

He didn’t finish.

Beatrice suddenly pulled herself out of his arms, landing on the floor with surprising force. Subaru’s hand hung helplessly in the air before dropping, his body pausing as he stared at her.

She stood directly in front of him—on the floor, small but blazing—while he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at her.

Beatrice: “Don’t you dare apologize, in fact!”

Her voice shook, but her glare didn’t.

Subaru’s chest tightened.

She was right.

He had been about to apologize. He’d been doing it in his head nonstop since they left the dining hall—because speaking freely meant hurting them in new ways.

And even if he swallowed the apology now, the guilt didn’t disappear. It sat under his ribs, heavy and familiar, refusing to be dismissed just because she ordered it away.

Still, he tried to lighten the air.

Subaru: “Well, hey… I mean, I’m glad to see you’re standing again at least—”

Beatrice cut him off instantly, jabbing a small finger toward him.

Beatrice: “Don’t you dare joke either, in fact!”

The half-smile died immediately. Subaru’s breath caught, and he straightened without thinking.

She stepped closer—just enough that he couldn’t look anywhere but at her.

Beatrice: “No apologizing. No joking. You will explain everything to Betty—all of it—in fact.”

A trembling inhale.

Beatrice: “You will explain it to her now, in fact.”

Subaru blinked once, the last of his attempted humor dying on his tongue.

He realized then that his hands were still caught in that awkward half-position—half reaching toward her, half pulled back, unsure whether to comfort or retreat. They hovered uselessly in the air, trembling just slightly.

At her demand, something inside him quieted.

Slowly, he lowered his hands onto his lap, fingers curling inward until they stilled. His shoulders eased into a straighter line. His open mouth shut with a soft click of teeth, and the instinctive protest he’d been about to give dissolved into nothing.

He met her eyes fully.

The joking expression drained away, replaced by a steady, focused seriousness he rarely wore unless the world was falling apart around them.

Subaru: “…What do you want to know?”

Beatrice’s breath caught.

She had seen him serious before—when the world was falling apart—but never like this.

Never this quiet, this steady.

Never this him.

Because he had never been allowed to be this way.

Every serious face he’d shown in the past was shaped around the Witch’s gag, softened or twisted by the impossibility of telling the truth. But this—this was Subaru without restraint. Subaru answering because he could, without fear of collapsing into silent, suffocating agony.

And the realization startled her more than any number on that sheet.

For a moment she simply stared, wide-eyed, as if seeing her contractor for the first time again.

Then another thought slammed into her.

Right.

The taboo.

They hadn’t spoken about it. They hadn’t spoken about anything. No one in that dining room had. They hadn’t talked about the curse itself. They hadn’t talked about where each death had happened. They hadn’t talked about who had killed him—or why—or how many of those deaths were his own doing. They hadn’t talked about the Witch. They hadn’t talked about the weight he had carried alone.

All they had was a number big enough to shatter every illusion of safety they’d ever held.

It silenced them before they could even form the first real question.

And as Beatrice stood there, remembering every unanswered horror, every unspoken truth, one thing rose above all the rest:

The taboo.

The thing that should have killed him each time someone tried to speak of it.

The curse that strangled his voice, but now—now he looked at her with calm eyes and said, “What do you want to know?”

So she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and asked the only question that made sense to start with.

Beatrice: “That face… it is the product of my contractor’s newfound freedom, I suppose…?”

He gave her a soft smile.

Who else would understand me but my lovely Beako?

Subaru: “Yep. And isn’t it a relief?”

He let out a small, airy sigh, smiling as though this impossible situation were somehow lighter now that he could speak freely. Beatrice watched him closely, waiting… and realizing he was waiting for her.

So she asked the question that had lodged itself like a splinter in her heart.

Beatrice: “…Who killed you?”

She already knew the clown had done it, but that would have to be addressed later, and with… great care.

The smile faded—not sharply, just quietly—as Subaru’s eyes drifted upward in thought.

What a question…

Subaru: “Not like I don’t get it, but… jeez. If I told her right now… she’d explode. Literally. I can’t afford for Beako to know how many people she calls friends have killed me. Not yet. She’d burn the whole mansion down before the explanation was over.”

He looked back down at her.

Subaru: “Sorry, Beako. Can’t answer that. But… it’s a pretty big number of people. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Beatrice turned her head aside, her expression tightening for a beat.

Beatrice: “…Yes. That screen. It seems as though it plans to show everything, I suppose.”

A brief silence.

Subaru: “Seems so.”

Her tiny hands balled into fists.

Beatrice: “Do not worry. Betty will not fail you again. Should anyone attempt to harm you, Betty will erase them, in fact.”

Subaru’s hands came up immediately, waving her down in a half-flustered flutter.

Subaru: “Woah, woah—no need for that. I don’t think anyone’s going to try killing me now that everyone knows I’m immortal.”

Beatrice snapped her face back toward him, eyes wide.

Beatrice: “What did I say about jokes, in fact?!”

He let out a small laugh.

Subaru: “Not a joke. I genuinely don’t think anyone will try it now that it’s common knowledge I can’t die. Honestly, I kinda wish I could’ve made that clear earlier. Would’ve avoided a lot of trouble if people knew stabbing me was a waste of time.”

Beatrice: “Nonsense. People are not so kind, I suppose. They would simply exploit such knowledge. This revelation will only put you in more danger, in fact.”

Subaru shrugged faintly.

Subaru: “Then I guess I should be glad that you—and everyone else—are here to protect me.”

On the outside, Beatrice nodded, chin high.

On the inside—

Beatrice: “This time… for sure. I will not fail you again, in fact.”

Beatrice’s vow still hung in the air—small, fierce, trembling with the weight of someone who had just discovered the truth far too late. Subaru felt it, straight through the chest.

He reached out and gently brushed a thumb beneath her eye, wiping away a lingering tear.

Subaru: “Hey… Beako.”

She looked up at him, eyes still glossy but steadying.

He exhaled slowly, gathering the pieces of his swirling thoughts into something he could actually say.

Subaru: “As scary as this all is—terrifying, really—we… we both know what’s coming. That screen isn’t stopping. If it really covers nine arcs and I have no way to shut it off, then… the whole world’s going to see some insane stuff.”

Beatrice stiffened slightly but didn’t interrupt.

Subaru: “And I can’t explain everything at once. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think it would overwhelm you… overwhelm everyone. I’m kinda hoping the screen gives you context before I have to say anything.”

Her brows pinched, concern pooling there, but she listened.

Subaru swallowed, then leaned forward just a little, voice gentler—firmer.

Subaru: “But Beako… I need you to know something before any of that happens.”

Her breath hitched. He held her gaze.

Subaru: “You’re going to see the worst of others… the worst of your friends… the worst of yourselves…”

A pause.

“…and definitely the worst of me.”

The words settled between them like a quiet, impossible truth.

And Beatrice, tiny fists tightening at her sides, understood that this was not a warning.

It was a plea for her to stay.

And stay she would.

Beatrice: “Betty understands, and she is on your side, even if she sees Subaru burn the world down with the Witch by his side.”

Making her position clear by breaking her own rules to make a joke she meant from the bottom of her heart, Beatrice stated so.

After a little more crying on Beatrice’s end, the two of them eventually slipped into softer conversation, talking until dinner was ready nearly an hour later. Beatrice spent most of it vowing to hunt down every mugger who had hurt him—and especially the one who’d killed him—and promising to march into every establishment that had mistreated him when he was just trying to survive and give them a piece of her mind, in fact. Subaru spent the whole time gently joking, calming her down, and simply sitting beside her on the floor, the two of them talking quietly until the knock came announcing that dinner was prepared.

—

The kitchen filled quickly, but not with sound.

Ram moved to the cutting board.

Rem gathered vegetables from the pantry.

Frederica tied her apron and set water to boil.

Petra reached for spices with mechanical precision.

Sylphy quietly fetched knives, her hands stiff and careful.

Clind arranged plates with his usual exact precision.

Annerose sat on a small stool in the corner, knees tucked close, watching them all with a lost, nervous stillness.

But no one spoke.

The only noises were the scrape of knives, the soft thump of vegetables hitting the counter, the bubbling of water warming toward a boil. Even the air felt tight, as if the walls themselves were listening.

Everyone kept their heads down.

Everyone pretended work was enough to distract them.

It wasn’t.

A few minutes in, the quiet broke—not with words, but with a soft collision.

Ram turned quickly from the counter, a bowl of sliced carrots in hand.

Rem, carrying a stack of plates, moved at the same time.

They bumped hard enough that Ram’s sleeve slipped, Rem’s plates clattered, and carrot slices scattered across the floor.

Both froze.

Ram: “…Rem.”

Rem: “…Sister.”

The room went dead still.

Frederica stopped stirring.

Sylphy stopped breathing.

Petra’s hands hovered in mid-air.

Even the pot seemed to go quiet.

Annerose lifted her head, eyes wide.

Clind stepped forward immediately, bowing his head slightly as he crouched to pick up the fallen carrots.

Clind: “Allow me to assist you. Assistance.”

His last word—soft, clipped, habitual—seemed to echo louder than anything else had yet.

That tiny, familiar oddity cracked the stillness.

Petra swallowed, tightening her grip on the spice jar. She looked from Ram to Rem to Clind… then finally down at the vegetables scattered across the stone floor.

Petra: “…Are we really just going to pretend everything is normal?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it struck like a bell.

Ram’s fingers tightened around her bowl.

Rem’s eyes dropped to the broken ring of plates at her feet.

Frederica set down her ladle with a soft, defeated exhale.

Sylphy’s shoulders curled inward, trembling.

Annerose lowered her gaze, biting her lip.

Petra looked around at them all—older, stronger, wiser—and yet every single one of them was shaking in their own way.

Petra: “Because… because I can’t. Not after hearing all that. Not after seeing his face like that.”

Her small voice finally said what every adult in the room had been trying, failing, to swallow.

And the silence they had been clinging to finally, quietly… broke.

Ram: “Not now, little girl. Our job is to prepare the food. We should not be discussing this outside of the meeting.”

Her tone was sharp, practiced, dismissive—Ram’s usual blade-edged scolding.

Although it was not that she didn’t care.

But she simply could not afford for the only solid fact they had heard tonight—that someone she cherished above anyone, Roswaal—had definitely killed Subaru before—to be brought up.

All they knew was a number, and those who had been through Sanctuary knew what that meant.

And Ram would not allow resentment toward her master to fester in this kitchen.

Petra’s jaw tightened.

Petra: “Right. Because you’re trying to defend him.”

A soft, collective intake of breath rippled through the room.

Frederica stiffened.

Clind paused mid-motion.

Sylphy’s eyes widened.

Annerose blinked sharply, startled by the sudden spike in tension.

But Petra wasn’t wrong.

Ram met the girl’s glare with one of her own—controlled, cold, but undeniably shaken.

Yet not everyone understood the weight of Petra’s accusation.

Rem, still amnesiac, didn’t know what her sister knew.

Annerose had only ever known Roswaal as her uncle, not the man who had spilled so much blood.

Sylphy was too new, unaware of the deeper, darker history behind Emilia’s camp.

But Petra, Ram, Frederica, and Clind—they knew.

They remembered Sanctuary.

They remembered what almost happened.

Petra herself had nearly died because of Roswaal’s schemes—and that very assassin they had seen kill Subaru on screen.

So when she spoke, the truth stung everyone who understood it, and confused everyone who didn’t.

Ram’s fingers curled slowly around the bowl she held.

Ram: “…Watch your tone.”

Petra didn’t back down.

Petra: “No, Ram-nee-sama, I know that you love him, but you cannot overlook what we now know.”

Ram: “Pet—”

Petra: “No! I won’t stop! That assassin, Elsa—she was the same one Roswaal hired! The same one that tried to kill me and Frederica-nee-sama! The same one that slit Subaru-sama open! The same one Roswaal hired to kill us all!”

Sylphy: “—!”

Annerose: “—?!”

Rem: “Is that true…?!”

Ram looked down. Any other time she would scold Petra for dropping her master’s honorific—simply calling him by name. But now she couldn’t. She wanted to defend her master, but she knew the only reason he had been forgiven and given a chance to change was because no one had gotten hurt in the end.

But someone had.

Her little brother had…

Ram: “Yes.”

Annerose: “B-but that’s impossible! Roswaal-sama would never!”

The little girl stood up in alarm and offense.

Rem: “B-but then why…?”

Ram: “Because Barusu chose to forgive Roswaal-sama. And that is the end of it.”

Petra: “Wha—!”

Ram: “That is the end of it, Petra Leyte.”

And with a finality that no one could refute, the conversation ended before its revelation could be discussed.

Ram’s final words settled over the kitchen like a dropped curtain.

No one dared lift it.

The moment she said, “That is the end of it,” the room seemed to lock into place. Every pair of lips that had begun to part closed immediately. Every question brewing in someone’s throat died unheard.

Because Ram was still standing there—stern, composed, and watching.

And when Ram said a conversation was over, it was over.

Those who knew the truth—Petra, Frederica, Clind—had lived Sanctuary.

They understood Roswaal’s crimes.

And although none of them fully understood the main character’s forgiveness, they had no desire to reopen old wounds without the full context.

There was nothing to be gained from discussing it now. Not in a half-informed kitchen, not without Subaru present, and not while emotions were this raw.

Those who didn’t know…

were left suspended in a suffocating silence.

Rem looked between them all, confusion pooling in her eyes. She didn’t understand the history, didn’t know the sins her sister referred to—but she understood perfectly that she shouldn’t push further. Ram’s finality was a wall she couldn’t breach.

Sylphy swallowed hard, clutching the handle of the knife she had fetched.

My master… is he truly someone like that? And Subaru-sama forgave him?

What am I supposed to feel?

But the atmosphere made one thing clear:

This was not the moment to ask.

Annerose sat rigidly on her stool, fingers twisting in her skirt.

Her uncle—Roswaal-sama—the man who raised her, the man she trusted… had hired an assassin?

Her mind spun, but Ram’s tone left no room for protest.

If Subaru had forgiven him… then she had no standing to argue.

And besides, the terrifying finality in Ram’s voice made it clear:

No one was going to discuss this again. Not tonight.

So the kitchen remained heavy with unanswered questions and suppressed accusations — but now, instead of hanging in the air, they were locked tightly inside each individual chest.

Ram didn’t need to repeat herself.

Her message had already seared itself into the room:

This conversation is finished.

We do not speak of this again.

And so, with stiff shoulders and tight throats, everyone returned to their work.

And an hour later Clind sent Petra to knock on Subaru’s door to call him for the dinner they had all worked to set. 

— 

Petra had spent the last half hour moving around the kitchen on autopilot—chopping vegetables she couldn’t taste, stirring pots she didn’t really see, answering Ram with dull, automatic “Yes, Ram-nee-sama” that barely reached her own ears. But her mind never left one thing.

Roswaal.

Roswaal killed Subaru. Subaru forgave him. How? Why? HOW?

She understood why Ram defended Roswaal. Ram would defend him even if the sky fell. But Subaru? Subaru should have hated him. Subaru should have wanted him dead. She knew he was the kindest person she had ever met, but even then—

If someone killed Garfiel, Petra would hate them forever. If someone killed Frederica, she’d never speak to them again. If someone killed Subaru-sama… she’d burn their house down. So how could Subaru, of all people, forgive Roswaal?

Did he not trust them to help? Did he think they wouldn’t believe him? Did he think they would turn on him if he told them Roswaal deserved to die? But no… that wasn’t it. He trusted them—he trusted her. He had proven that earlier by showing a vulnerability she had never seen from him before. So that meant he didn’t forgive Roswaal because he had to. He forgave Roswaal because he wanted to.

And that made no sense. What—did Roswaal not kill him enough times?! How many times did someone have to kill you before you STOPPED forgiving them?

Her chest tightened. She didn’t understand. Truly didn’t. And that frustration simmered all the way from the kitchen to the second-floor hallway.

Finally, she stopped in front of Subaru’s door. Her knuckles hovered for a moment—small, tense, trembling—then she knocked twice.

Petra: “Subaru-sama, dinner’s ready.”

There was rustling inside. A soft sniffle. Then the door opened. Subaru stood there with a faint, tired smile. Beatrice clung to his sleeve like a tiny, red-eyed sentinel who wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Subaru: “Hey, Petra. Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re on our way.”

Beatrice didn’t speak—only shot Petra a watery, suspicious sideways glance while holding onto Subaru even tighter. Petra bowed her head and steadied her breath as the three of them began walking down the hallway—Subaru and Beatrice side by side, Petra following just behind, her fists clenching and unclenching as her thoughts churned.

She had to ask. She needed to understand how Subaru could forgive a man who should’ve died for what he had done.

They walked a few steps in silence before Petra finally swallowed hard. 

Petra: “Subaru-sama… I wanted to ask you something. It’s about Roswaal.” No honorifics. No mercy.

Beatrice’s hand immediately tightened around Subaru’s hand. Subaru blinked, then let out a quiet, tired sigh. 

Subaru: “…Yeah. I guess I should’ve expected that, huh?” He turned slightly to look at Petra. She wasn’t glaring or crying—she just looked hurt and confused and furious on his behalf. 

Subaru: “Alright, Petra. Shoot. What is it?”

Petra breathed in. 

Petra: “…Why is he still alive?”

The hallway fell silent except for their footsteps. Beatrice looked up sharply. 

Beatrice: “H-How dare you, in fact?!”

Subaru: “Whoa there Beako! I’ll answer, it's fine!”

After calming her indignation — which didn’t get much of a reaction from Petra in the first place — Subaru looked ahead again, expression softening into something complicated.

Subaru: “…How about I tell you a story, Petra?”

They both blinked. 

Petra: “…A story?”

He gave her a small, weary smile—one that steadied more than it soothed. 

Subaru: “Yeah. I think that’ll help you understand where I’m coming from.”

Beatrice loosened her grip slightly, and Petra nodded. 

Petra: “…Alright. I’m listening.”

Subaru: “Good. Because this is… kind of important,” Subaru said as they continued toward the dining hall. 

Subaru: “Alright, Petra… let me tell you a story. A real one. Just told a little differently.”

Petra frowned but stayed quiet.

Subaru: “There was an island. A rough one. A place where the world sent people it didn’t want. An island of rejects. And even the rejects had standards. If you wanted to stay, if you wanted a place on that island, you had to survive a trial. It was called Sparka. Four people were thrown into it at once: a coward, a scaredy-cat, a fraud… and a child.”

Beatrice pressed closer, but said nothing.

Subaru: “The child didn’t belong there. He didn’t want to be there. He just wanted to get home—to the people who treated him well. But he got dragged into it anyway. The coward tried to fight alone. Said he didn’t need help. He died first. The scaredy-cat tried to hide, then tried to protect the child, but when things got bad… he shoved the kid toward the monster to save himself. He died too. The child survived by dumb luck.”

Petra winced.

Subaru: “Then there was the fraud—pretending to be a warrior. He stood in front of the child, said he’d protect him, told him to get behind him. And for a second, the child believed him. Thought, ‘At least one person here wants to do the right thing.’ But when the monster got close… the fraud panicked. He grabbed the kid, screamed he didn’t want to die, and used the child as a shield.”

Beatrice stiffened.

Subaru: “And the child died. Thinking the world was full of people pretending to be human.”

Subaru let the silence settle.

Subaru: “But the child couldn’t stay dead. He had to keep going. Over and over. Until somehow… they all survived together. And here’s the strange part. After that? Those three—the coward, the scaredy-cat, and the fraud—looked at the child with real respect.”

Petra blinked.

Subaru: “Later on, when the island faced something much worse, the kid thought everyone was doomed. He was ready to give up. And then the coward said he’d die for him—because the kid treated him like a real person. The scaredy-cat said the same—that the kid listened, treated him kindly, didn’t see him as expendable. And the fraud? The man who used the kid as a shield? He volunteered his life too. For the child who had risked just as much for him.”

They reached a window as he finished.

Subaru: “All of them made a conscious choice to do the right thing. Not because they always had. But because, when it counted… they chose who they wanted to be.”

Subaru turned fully to Petra.

Subaru: “So let me ask you, Petra. Do you think their true selves were the ones who let the child die… or the ones who later chose to risk everything to save him?”

Petra’s breath hitched.

Before she could speak, Subaru lifted a hand gently. “Let me say one more thing first.”

Petra fell silent, confused. Beatrice watched closely.

Subaru: “I believe a person doesn’t show their true self when they’re losing everything. Those moments show panic or instinct—not truth.” He inhaled. “Those three had stories. Real ones.”

Petra felt the hall closing around them.

Subaru: “The fraud—Idra—lived honestly. Worked hard. Trusted people. Then he was betrayed, sold as property, discarded like he didn’t matter. The coward—Weitz—tried to live decently too, but the world pinned a crime on him he never committed and forced him into becoming what they already believed he was. And Hiain—the scaredy-cat—ended up on that island because he made one mistake trying to protect his friends and took their punishment for it.”

He continued softly, 

Subaru:“All three believed the world had thrown them away. That honesty and effort were meaningless. That nothing good in them mattered. So can you blame them for how they acted at their lowest? When the ‘child’—me—was just standing there frozen? I didn’t help them. I didn’t save them. I just died.”

He gave her a sad smile. 

Subaru: “By your logic, I should’ve thrown them away. Used the loops to let them die. Made things easier.”

Petra flinched.

Subaru: “But I didn’t. Because later—after someone treated them like they weren’t trash—they chose to be better. To be good. You met them. Weitz, Hiain, Idra. They’re good people now. My friends. I’d die for them as quickly as they’d die for me.”

He stopped near the top of the stairs.

Subaru: “So let me say it clearly. I don’t believe a person’s true self is who they are when they’re breaking. A person’s true self is who they choose to be once they have a chance. When the world isn’t crushing them. When they can choose growth and kindness.”

Petra’s breath caught.

Subaru: “That’s why I’m giving Roswaal that chance.”

She stared—shocked, not convinced.

Subaru: “You think I forgave him,” Subaru said. “I didn’t. I hate him more than almost anyone.” Even Beatrice blinked at that.

Subaru: “But he’s not irredeemable. He’s not a monster. I’ve met monsters—real ones. Monsters who always choose cruelty no matter what chance you give them. Roswaal isn’t like that. When his circumstances change… he changes too.”

He finished with a tired, gentle smile.

Subaru: “So I’m going to keep creating the circumstances where he—and you—and everyone I care about—can choose the right thing. Just like Weitz, Hiain, and Idra did. That’s the kind of forgiveness I believe in.”

As they began descending the stairs, Petra wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice was small at first, but steady.

Petra: “I… still can’t agree with forgiving Roswaal. I don’t think I ever will. But… if you’re saying you don’t forgive him, and you’re letting him live because you chose to… then I trust your decision. I’ll stand by it, Subaru-sama.”

Subaru smiled—not triumphant, but grateful.

Then Petra added, arms crossed and nose wrinkling with all the righteous indignation a thirteen-year-old could summon:

Petra: “But I’m still never forgiving him. Ever.”

Subaru huffed a soft laugh and reached over to gently pat her head.

Subaru: “Good. You really shouldn’t. That clown is so annoying. If you forgave him, I’m sure his accent would get even worse with his smugness.”

Petra let out a surprised snort-laugh, then immediately sniffled, embarrassed to be caught half-crying and half-laughing at the same time. Beatrice, still holding Subaru’s hand, softened just a little at the sound.

A few steps later, Petra spoke again, quieter this time.

Petra: “Was it… really hard? On that island?”

Subaru didn’t hesitate.

Subaru: “Yeah. Definitely. Kinda a nightmare… but I don’t regret it. Not even a little.”

Petra nodded, processing that, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

No one spoke after that.

Together—the three of them—walked the last stretch to the dining room in a quiet that wasn’t heavy anymore.

—

An hour ago…

Emilia followed Otto the moment she saw him slip away from the others. He walked quickly, shoulders tight, jaw set in that familiar way that meant he was thinking too loudly for his own good—and she understood why. Because she was thinking the same things.

Otto was trying to confront Roswaal alone. He was trying to keep himself from exploding in front of everyone else. Emilia could see it in the way his fingers twitched as he reached out after Roswaal. And she followed after without even thinking about it.

Her mind had been a storm ever since the screen had ended.

His face.

His voice.

His panic.

She could still hear it echoing in her mind, like the room hadn’t stopped shaking after that first death.

She hated everything in that moment. She had failed in every capacity she could have failed in. She had saved him only to lead him straight into danger again. She had never acknowledged the damage that had done to him.

She had even blamed him—blamed him—for calling her by the name she had asked him to use, which led him to his death once more.

Because of her, he had died three horrible deaths. Because of her ignorance, she hadn’t seen the pain it caused him for more than a year. Emilia felt like a failure in every sense of the word.

But she was still a leader. She was still the head of her camp. She could not fail in that role. So she followed Otto. She followed Roswaal. She followed because she needed answers, and she needed to speak about everything.

Roswaal was integral to all of this. She was fully aware he had hired Elsa in the first place—to steal her insignia, to attack Subaru. She knew Roswaal had done terrible things in Sanctuary. She knew he had manipulated the weather, the trials, even Subaru himself, all because of that long-eroded plan she still struggled to understand.

But knowing something and seeing it were different.

Seeing Subaru die like that—

Hearing him talk about it so plainly—

Feeling her heart fall apart as she watched—

It made the past feel real in a way she wished it never had.

And Emilia, who loved him more deeply than she could ever explain, suddenly didn’t know where to put any of these feelings.

She had pitied Roswaal for his madness, for his obsession, for his failures. But right now, she didn’t feel much pity at all. Because pity didn’t erase the image of Subaru bleeding on the floor at the hands of an assassin Roswaal had hired.

Her heart kept tripping over itself between two truths:

Emilia: “I know why he did these things. But Subaru didn’t deserve any of it.”

When Otto stopped outside Roswaal’s office, Emilia stopped with him, her hands tight at her chest. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t breathe too loudly. She didn’t trust her own voice to stay steady.

What was she even supposed to say?

Roswaal, how could you?

What were you thinking?

Do you understand what you did to him?

No. That wasn’t right. This wasn’t about scolding him.

Emilia wasn’t angry the way Petra had been, or even the way Otto was now. Emilia was simply devastated. Devastated for every version of Subaru who died alone. Devastated because she hadn’t known.

And now that she did, she couldn’t stop seeing it behind his eyes every time he smiled. And now, hurting even more because she had seen that huge, terrible, inked number on the parchment.

Otto glanced back at her once, silently offering her the chance to turn back. Emilia shook her head. She needed to be here. She needed to understand everything once and for all.

She needed to figure out how she was supposed to stand beside Subaru after seeing what he endured—without falling apart every time she looked at him.

So she followed Otto inside. Her heart was quiet. Her thoughts were loud. And Roswaal, waiting behind his desk, looked smaller than she had ever seen him.

Roswaal sat behind his desk, hands folded, posture unusually still. He looked nothing like the flamboyant, untouchable man they were all used to. His shoulders were low, his gaze unfocused. There was no smile—just tension.

Before either Emilia or Otto could speak, Roswaal reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of parchment.

Subaru’s parchment.

The one with the number written on it.

He placed it gently on the desk between them.

Roswaal: “Sooooo~… are we here to talk about this, Otto-kun? Emilia-sama~?”

The elongated vowel. The tilde. The same theatrical cadence as always—yet it didn’t land this time.

The sight of that paper—stained with meaning none of them had been ready for—made Otto’s blood roar. He slammed both palms onto the desk so hard the inkwell jumped.

Otto: “Shut it, clown.”

Roswaal blinked once. His smile disappeared completely.

Otto: “We are far past ‘talking.’ You don’t get to perform right now. You don’t get to smirk or tilt your head or hide behind that stupid accent. Emilia-sama and I will be asking the questions. You will be answering. First and foremost—”

He leaned forward, eyes burning.

“—what did you know?”

The silence was sharp enough to cut through bone. Emilia stood behind Otto, her hands clasped tightly at her chest, her heart caught somewhere between fury, dread, and grief.

Roswaal slowly leaned back in his chair, face going blank in a way far more unsettling than his usual smile.

Roswaal: “I did not know this, if that is what you are asking, Otto-kun~.”

Emilia exhaled shakily.

Emilia: “Otto… I know you’re angry. I’m angry too. But Roswaal couldn’t have known about Subaru’s… situation. I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t have known about Return by—about any of this.”

Roswaal turned his mismatched eyes toward her.

Roswaal: “I was not aware that death was the trigger for Subaru-kun’s ability, Emilia-sama~.”

Everything froze.

Otto’s breath stopped. Emilia’s heart lurched painfully.

Emilia: “Explain. What do you mean by that?”

Roswaal folded his hands atop the desk, gaze steady—too steady.

Roswaal: “As you both know… I was given a specific device. A certain Tome of Knowledge. Otto-kun should be quite familiar with it after attempting to repair it~.”

Otto’s teeth ground together.

Otto: “Don’t you dare mock me, Roswaal. Explain yourself immediately.”

Roswaal inclined his head.

Roswaal: “But of course~.”

He continued without theatrics, voice level and coldly honest.

Roswaal: “That tome… plans the future. It reveals outcomes. Otto-kun knows this well. I am less certain how aware you were of its true nature, Emilia-sama~.”

Otto: “Don’t mock her either.”

Something flickered in Roswaal’s expression—almost amusement, but thinner than usual. Then he went on.

Roswaal: “Roughly two years ago, my Tome granted me a new prophecy. Only a single line: ‘The half-elf with silver hair and amethyst eyes shall lead you to the one who can redo.’”

Emilia’s breath caught. Otto’s eyes widened.

Roswaal tapped one long finger against Subaru’s parchment.

Roswaal: “At that time, I did not know whom that half-elf referred to. Later… it became clear it meant Emilia-sama~.”

Emilia swallowed hard.

Roswaal: “Months later, a second prophecy appeared. It instructed me to send Emilia-sama to the capital… and to hire an assassin to steal her insignia and sell it to me.”

Otto’s hands clenched.

Otto: “You—!”

Roswaal lifted a hand gently but firmly.

Roswaal: “I did not know why. I simply obeyed. I was a devoted student fulfilling the directives of an absolute plan.”

He paused—long enough that Emilia wished he hadn’t.

Roswaal: “But the plan worked. Because of that sequence of events… I found the one who can redo.”

Subaru.

The room felt suddenly too small, the ceiling too low, the past too heavy.

Roswaal exhaled slowly.

Roswaal: “I knew Subaru-kun possessed an ability that rewrote fate. I knew he was the one my Tome had spoken of. But the Tome did not tell me the price of his ability. I did not know death was the catalyst. I did not know…”

His voice dipped—not dramatic, not performative, but painfully human.

“I did not know it hurt that much.”

Emilia’s hands trembled. Otto looked ready to scream. Roswaal, of all people, looked… small.

Roswaal gestured toward the parchment again.

Roswaal: “This number tells me something the Tome never did. Something I truly did not know.”

He looked directly at Emilia, then Otto.

Roswaal: “And for the first time in many years… I find myself without an answer.”

Emilia’s face went blank. Not empty—just stripped of everything except the need to understand. Her eyes locked onto Roswaal’s, steady and unblinking.

Emilia: “So… I was bait. This entire time.”

Otto’s head snapped toward her. His expression tightened—somewhere between pity and despair—before he forced himself to look back at Roswaal.

Roswaal didn’t flinch.

Roswaal: “Indeed~.”

Emilia swallowed, her voice quieter but no less sharp.

Emilia: “And the Royal Selection? Was that also part of this plan?”

Roswaal folded his hands again, posture controlled but lacking his usual theatrical flourish.

Roswaal: “I no longer have my Tome. But I remember its instructions. I intend to fulfill them… as I always have~.”

Otto’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth nearly cracked.

Otto: “Then why tell us any of this? Why now? For all you know, we could kill you for what you’ve done.”

Roswaal tilted his head, calm in a way that only infuriated Otto further.

Roswaal: “For a few reasons~. First… I do not believe you will kill me. You are quite aware that I am incredibly useful. And should I die, a certain person you both cherish would be… devastated. Ram would—”

Otto slammed a fist against the desk, trembling with anger.

Otto: “Don’t you dare use that! If you think bringing up Ram is enough to—”

Roswaal cut him off gently, but his tone remained sharp as a knife.

Roswaal: “I do not believe it is enough. That would be enough for Subaru-kun… but not for you. Otto-kun, you are not someone who can be swayed by sentiment alone~.”

Otto froze, breath ragged.

Roswaal continued, voice quieter—still elegant, but stripped of cruelty.

Roswaal: “But remember this. I was not aware of the trigger. Had I known that Subaru-kun’s ability demanded such a price… I would not have been so careless. I would not have allowed such… extravagant sacrifices.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed.

Otto: “But you would have made some sacrifices.”

Roswaal didn’t hesitate.

Roswaal: “Of course~. I am willing to make any sacrifice necessary. But I do not make sacrifices I do not have to make. And knowing I caused such consequences without my knowledge…”

His expression tightened for the first time.

“It is both distressing and insulting—to the standards I hold myself to. To the kind of planner I am.”

Emilia stared at him, searching his face—his tone—his intent.

Emilia drew in a deep breath, steadying her voice the way she had learned to as a leader. She stepped closer to the desk, her expression calm but unwavering. For a brief moment she placed a hand on Otto’s shoulder—grounding both of them—before lowering it again and fixing her eyes on Roswaal.

Emilia: “Then let me ask you this… what do you plan to do now? All of your crimes are about to be exposed to the world.”

Roswaal blinked once, then actually chuckled—thin, humorless.

Roswaal: “Well now… quite perceptive, Emilia-sama~. Yes, that is indeed… quite the conundrum. My assumption is that once my deeds are laid bare, I shall become enemy number one. Public enemy number one, even! For killing their hero… their most exalted person~.”

Otto’s mouth opened—anger ready to spill—but Emilia raised a hand sharply, stopping him.

Emilia: “And you expect us to protect you?”

Roswaal: “Actually… I do not.”

He lifted a finger delicately.

Roswaal: “I expect you to protect him. And you should both be quite aware that Subaru-kun would never allow anything to happen to me. So long as I do not actively go out and try to kill someone, he will protect even those he despises most. That is the type of person he is~. And yes… I am relying on that.”

Otto snapped back:

Otto: “You think we’ll just listen to him? You think that’s enough?”

Roswaal smiled then—properly smiled—accent returning with silk and mockery.

Roswaal: “I do~. Otto-kun, you won’t let him down. You never do. You won’t make him fail in saving me… or in saving his big sister. You are here for the sole purpose of protecting him and Emilia-sama. And even should Emilia-sama refuse to help me…”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in amused challenge.

Roswaal: “He will. And he comes first in your eyes, doesn’t he~?”

Otto inhaled sharply, straightening until his spine was rigid.

Otto: “…We shall see. For now—I have other questions.”

Because this was going nowhere. Because debating Subaru’s morals in his absence was pointless. Because they needed information.

Otto tapped the paper with the number—the number that had upended everything.

Otto: “This number… it’s enormous. But something Natsuki-san said stood out to me. He said most of these deaths are from ‘recently.’ Yet it’s only been a year since you stopped being our enemy. So tell me, Roswaal—how many of these deaths are truly by your hand?”

Roswaal’s gaze dropped to the parchment. At the very top were the small, separate digits Subaru had written earlier:

3 4 4 5 3

Roswaal: “If I recall correctly… these numbers signify the earlier arcs. A sequence. Small and simple. I would assume the three… then four… then four… then five… represent the culmination of my own actions. My… earlier actions.”

Emilia and Otto exchanged a look—they didn’t fully understand the logic, but they understood the implication.

Otto: “For your sake… you better hope that’s true.”

Emilia suddenly reached forward and snatched the parchment from Roswaal’s desk. Roswaal did not resist. Otto stepped back in surprise.

Emilia held the paper tightly, her expression carved from ice.

Emilia: “I’m done for now. I need to think.”

She backed toward the door, voice firm but trembling at the edges.

Emilia: “Don’t cause any trouble. We’re not finished.”

Without waiting for permission, she turned and walked out, the door clicking softly behind her—leaving Roswaal silent, Otto seething, and the weight of Subaru’s number lying heavy over them both.

Even with Otto’s warning—“you’d better hope that’s true”—none of them truly understood what those numbers meant. They had only seen three deaths so far, and none of them had pointed directly at Roswaal. They had no idea how much rage they would feel when the truth finally came into focus. They hadn’t yet heard Roswaal’s own words at the moment of his worst choices. They hadn’t witnessed the kind of deaths that made being slit open by Elsa look merciful. They hadn’t seen the betrayals, the losses, the breaking points, or the cold calculations that shaped Subaru’s fate long before any of them understood what he was enduring.

Compared to what awaited them, this calm discussion—this controlled anger—would someday look like grace.

Because when the real truths are revealed, when every death and every cause is laid out in the open, there will be no forgiveness for Roswaal L. Mathers.

No one will forgive him.

No one except Natsuki Subaru.

—

Emilia walked out of Roswaal’s office without looking back.

Her fingers were clenched so tightly around Subaru’s parchment that the edges bent against her palms. She held it pressed to her chest as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Her steps were steady… but only because her mind had gone completely blank.

No thoughts. No breath. No space to feel anything except the weight of that number.

She reached her room without remembering how she got there.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the mask broke.

Emilia stood in the quiet of her room, staring without seeing — at the bed, the window, the soft ribbons hanging by the mirror. The paper flowers Subaru had made for her, saying how they would last forever. Everything looked the same. Everything felt wrong.

Her knees gave out.

She collapsed onto the floor, parchment still crushed between her hands, and the first breath she managed to take came out as a sob.

Not a small sob, not a restrained one, a whole, shaking, heartbreaking cry that ripped through her chest.

Emilia folded forward, the paper pressed against her forehead as tears spilled freely down her face.

Emilia: “Subaru… oh, Subaru…”

Her voice broke immediately. She wasn’t even speaking to anyone — just to the room, to the air, to herself, because the sound of her own voice made it real.

She cried harder, all the fear, all the guilt, all the “I didn’t know” crashing down at once.

Her fingers dug into the parchment, trembling.

Emilia: “W-what am I supposed to do…? How do I… how do I stand beside you after this…?”

Her tears hit the paper, blurring the ink in places. She wiped at them with her sleeve, but more came, unstoppable, her body shaking with the force of everything she had held back in that office.

Emilia curled slightly inward, not out of pain — out of confusion, out of terror for him, out of love so fierce it frightened her.

He had gone through all of this. Alone. Smiling at her like she hadn’t failed him again and again and again.

Emilia pressed the parchment to her heart and cried harder.

The room remained silent around her — spacious, gentle, warm — while she sobbed on the cold floor, trying to understand how she was supposed to carry the truth she had finally seen.

A little under an hour later, Sylphy would come to get her, so they could both make it to dinner. 

—

Outside, far from the murmurs and tension gathering inside the mansion, Garfiel Tinsel was attacking the stable chores like they’d personally insulted him. He scrubbed, hauled, swept, and rearranged things that didn’t need rearranging — each movement sharp, angry, and pointless.

He wasn’t thinking. Or rather, he was thinking too much.

And then—

WHAM.

A set of powerful jaws clamped around his head — not to injure, but to snap him out of it. A sharp, scolding bite from the only creature alive daring enough to treat him like an idiot when he was acting like one.

Patrasche.

Garfiel sputtered, grabbing her snout and shoving it off.

Garfiel: “Oi—! I know, damn it! I know, I know, I know! Ya don’t gotta bite my whole damn face ta tell me!”

Patrasche snorted hot air directly at him, unamused.

Garfiel staggered back a step, then just… dropped. He sat hard on the packed dirt floor, hands braced behind him, head hanging low as he panted through clenched teeth.

Garfiel: “Damn it… damn it all…”

His claws dug into the dirt.

Garfiel: “Seven thousand… that’s— that’s absurd. Completely— totally absurd…”

His breath shook once.

Garfiel: “…Boss… what kinda hell’ve ya’ been through…?”

Patrasche stepped closer, nudged his shoulder firmly — not gently, not softly, but with the unyielding steadiness of someone telling him to sit, breathe, and stop trying to punch the entire world at once.

And Garfiel, this time, didn’t push back.

He just sat there, fists trembling, staring at nothing, trying to swallow the fury boiling in his chest as tears ran down his face.

And some time later Frederica would come and call him to dinner, relieved to see him even a bit calmer. 

—

The dining hall was quiet when they arrived, far quieter than any dinner in the mansion had ever been. Roswaal’s seat at the head of the table remained unmistakably empty, untouched and avoided by everyone. It made the long table feel even longer.

Subaru took the chair immediately to the right of that empty head seat, setting the tone without needing to say a word.

Beatrice claimed the next seat beside him instantly, not climbing into his lap this time but sitting upright with a protective stiffness that warned everyone else away.

Petra sat beside Beatrice, close enough to Subaru to feel anchored, but not so close as to intrude.

Otto took the chair next to Petra, posture tight.

Garfiel dropped into the seat beside Otto, jaw clenched.

Emilia quietly took the seat after Garfiel, placing herself several spots away from Subaru. She couldn’t bring herself to sit beside him — not with her eyes still red, not with her chest still tight. Subaru noticed, of course, but simply offered her a small, gentle look rather than approach. He understood.

Beside Emilia sat Sylphy, silent and wide-eyed as ever.

On the left side of the table: Clind sat opposite Subaru, his posture pristine. Next to him sat Annerose, hands folded politely. Beside her, Frederica took her place, composed but watching Garfiel with concern. Ram sat next, calm and expressionless. Rem followed beside her sister, offering small, hopeful smiles. And finally Meili slid into the last seat, swinging her feet under the table.

Everyone was seated.

And the atmosphere settled into something heavy — not hostile, not chaotic, just… weighted. A room full of people pretending dinner was normal while all of them avoided looking at Subaru’s side of the table for too long.

Everyone began eating — or pretending to. Forks moved, spoons stirred, but no one’s appetite reached their mouth. The quiet was thick enough to chew.

Subaru set his fork down with a small but unmistakably dramatic tap.

Subaru: “Alright. I know you’re all freaked out, and yeah… this atmosphere is unbelievably depressing. But we need to talk. And you need to hear this — even if you don’t want to.”

Garfiel froze mid-bite.

Garfiel: “It— it ain’t that we don’t wanna hear it… or— tch— okay, maybe it kinda is— but—”

He stopped, eyes lowering.

Emilia kept her eyes on her plate.

Otto inhaled slowly, gaze fixed downward.

Petra looked up immediately.

Petra: “Okay. Go ahead.”

Clind straightened.

Clind: “Of course, Subaru-sama. Please speak. Attention.”

The table fell still.

Every gaze turned toward him.

Subaru let out a slow breath.

Subaru: “So… in two days, we’re going to see a lot of crazy stuff. And when it happens, the entire world will be seeing it too. But unlike the rest of the world, you guys have me — the one person who actually knows the context — to explain things to you.”

He paused, expression steady but heavy.

Subaru: “First thing: I’m not going to tell you what happens in the story beyond what I absolutely need to. Not because I don’t trust you, but because… you won’t react well. And my goal — being completely honest here — is to minimize the damage. Because there is going to be damage. And it’s going to suck. A lot.”

No one moved.

Subaru looked around the table, eyes softer than before.

Subaru: “I want to repeat something I told Beako earlier. Something important. Something you all need to hear.”

He waited.

Subaru: “Are you listening?”

Everyone nodded — even Emilia, though she didn’t lift her head.

Subaru: “Good. Then here it is. One thing you must remember when we watch all of this… because I know you’re going to watch it, no matter what I say to stop you.”

He swallowed.

Subaru: “You’re going to see the worst of the world. The worst of each other. The worst of yourselves.”

He hesitated — then with a sad, resigned smile:

“And most definitely the worst of me.”

The reaction was immediate. Petra flinched, visibly pained. Otto’s grip tightened around his fork. Garfiel’s jaw locked. Rem and Ram exchanged tense glances. Emilia’s shoulders shook — barely — but enough for Subaru to notice.

Subaru looked down.

Subaru: “The truth is… I changed really fast. That’s what death does to you. It forces you to grow too quickly. But not very long ago… I wasn’t that great of a person. I made a lot of mistakes. And most of those mistakes? No one even remembers them.”

He gave a hollow laugh.

Subaru: “But I remember. And I’ve always felt guilty, because those mistakes… they cost so many lives.”

The room stiffened.

Subaru: “I’ve learned to live with it — kind of. But you need to be prepared. Because when you see it, when you see everything I did wrong… it’s not going to be easy.”

Silence.

Then Emilia lifted her head.

Her face was blotched from crying earlier, her eyes still glassy — but the look she gave him wasn’t pity, or horror, or disappointment.

It was grief. And fierce, unshaking loyalty.

Emilia: “…Subaru, you— you don’t have to explain your mistakes to us. We all… we all failed you too.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breath.

Emilia: “You’re blaming yourself for things none of us were there for… while all of us are blaming ourselves for not seeing it sooner. You’re not the only one who feels guilty. Not even close.”

Around the table, the others reacted in small, painful ways:

Petra lowered her gaze, tears forming again.

Garfiel’s fists tightened until his claws scraped the underside of the table.

Otto’s throat bobbed, his eyes suddenly brighter than before.

Beatrice slipped her hand onto Subaru’s sleeve, gripping it firmly.

Sylphy and Annerose looked down in grief.

Even Ram’s eyes softened, and Rem pressed her hands together in her lap.

Emilia took a shaky breath.

Emilia: “So please… if you’re going to talk about your mistakes… don’t forget we have our own to answer for.”

The words struck Subaru harder than the number on his parchment had.

He smiled, although he didn’t fully believe them yet, because no matter how much they loved him, the horrors that changed him would most definitely change them too.

They went back to eat. No one questioned Subaru further, and no one questioned Roswaal’s whereabouts. They just ate, got up, and left to be alone, because in two days they would all have to deal with each other in the most raw situation they could imagine.

—

That night, Subaru couldn’t sleep.

His mind circled everything that had happened, everything he had said at dinner, everything still waiting for them in the next two days.

And outside his curtain-covered window, that ticking sound — the countdown the entire world could hear — kept cutting through the silence.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

In an abrupt, irritated movement, Subaru shot upright.

Subaru: “Agh! This is the worst. If they’d just turn that stupid ticker sound off, I might actually get some real sleep!”

Beatrice, who had clearly been just as awake beside him, agreed with zero hesitation.

Beatrice: “Agreed, in fact.”

Subaru groaned and flopped backward, staring at the ceiling.

Subaru: “You know, I really don’t get any of this. Why show my memories like that? It makes no sense! We don’t even know who is doing all of this!”

Beatrice shook her head.

Beatrice: “I don’t believe it is a who, I suppose.”

Subaru paused, turning toward her.

Subaru: “Then tell me, my oh-so-smart Beako, what is doing it?”

He said it teasingly — smug, childish — but he was very much hoping she actually had an answer.

Beatrice huffed.

Beatrice: “Hmph! And why should Betty tell you?”

Subaru didn’t miss a beat.

Subaru: “Because my Beako loves me, and loves bragging about how smart she is even more.”

Beatrice’s face went through three stages — flabbergasted, offended, pouting — before settling into thoughtful seriousness.

She sighed, crossing her arms.

Beatrice: “I believe it is Od Laguna.”

There was a long, frozen silence.

Subaru: “…”

Then—

Subaru: “W–WHAT?!”

Beatrice smacked his shoulder with a tiny palm.

Beatrice: “Shhh!!! Stop shouting, in fact!”

Subaru: “S-Sorry.”

She lifted her chin.

Beatrice: “Hmph. Anyway… Betty will explain.”

Subaru sat up fully, listening.

Beatrice chose her words carefully — rare for her.

Beatrice: “I believe your ability — your curse, if you insist on calling it that — removes memory from the world itself. The world is Od Laguna, I suppose, and Od Laguna abhors empty space. It… reacts. Not in an emotional sense, like a human, but in the sense of trying to fill what is missing. And if Betty had to guess, this ‘viewing’ is the world’s way of compensating for that gap.”

Subaru blinked.

Subaru: “…It’s doing it cinematically.”

Beatrice frowned.

Beatrice: “I don’t know what that means, in fact. But my theory still stands.”

Subaru rubbed his face.

Subaru: “Well… I guess it would make sense. But that just cements one thing — I can’t stop this. If this really is the world filling in the blanks…”

He groaned.

“…does that mean that if I die enough times, the memories just update through this method? How does that even make sense? Isn’t that, like, a total breach of privacy?!”

Beatrice gave him a flat look.

Beatrice: “Regardless of what it is, it seems to be either a weakness of your ability… or interference from a being we cannot comprehend. After all, it has been made clear there are worlds beyond our own.”

She lifted one finger.

Beatrice: “Whatever the reason — whether the world itself or something else entirely — some outside force has interfered with our world order… and chosen to reveal everything. What that ends up meaning is up to that source, I suppose.”

Subaru stared at her, wide-eyed, horrified, and very awake.

Subaru: “…Fantastic. So not only am I cursed, the world is spying on me.”

Beatrice patted his arm.

Beatrice: “You’ll live, in fact.”

Subaru buried his face in the blanket.

He really wasn’t sure about that.

—

Two days later — the morning after the morning they all wished they could forget — Subaru woke with the kind of determination that wasn’t confidence and wasn’t calm.

Today, in the afternoon, the viewing would start.

He checked the time, groaned, and scrubbed a hand down his face.

Subaru: “Great. Only three hours left. Still a hopeless shut-in at heart… can’t even wake up on time for my own trauma festival.”

He forced himself upright anyway.

Two days had passed since that dinner.

The very next day — yesterday — had been a complete mess.

Everyone had avoided each other as much as possible, scattering through the mansion like startled cats. No one had the emotional strength to look anyone else in the eye. And Subaru hadn’t blamed them. Not once.

He stepped into the hallway, but unlike before, no tension slammed into him.

Because everyone was scattered.

Everyone was hiding in their own corners of the mansion, pretending to be busy.

So Subaru walked the grounds instead, taking the long sweeping path past open windows and side corridors, letting the cold morning air hit his face. Anything to wake up properly.

He saw Emilia first.

She stood by the garden archway, hands clasped in front of her, staring at a patch of flowers without truly seeing them. When Subaru appeared in her peripheral vision, she startled — then looked away immediately, wiping at her eyes as subtly as she could.

She wanted to speak.

She couldn’t yet.

Next was Otto — hovering near the veranda, pacing in tight, irritated circles as if trying to burn stress away by sheer friction. The moment Subaru’s footsteps reached him, Otto straightened, cleared his throat, and pretended he hadn’t been pacing at all.

Garfiel leaned against a pillar farther down, arms crossed, pretending to look casual. 

Clind and Annerose sat at an outdoor bench, speaking softly, posture stiff. Both paused when they saw Subaru, exchanging a look that quietly meant brace yourself.

Frederica stood a little distance away, giving Garfiel protective glances whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

Ram and Rem were near the walkway — Rem wringing her hands, Ram pretending she wasn’t.

Meili lingered close by as well, unusually quiet, gripping her sleeves when Subaru passed, as if trying to make herself small enough to avoid notice.

Sylphy perched on a fence post of all things, knees hugged to her chest, staring at the sky like it might explain something. She didn’t move when Subaru walked by, but her eyes tracked him nervously.

Every single person he cared about was scattered here and there across the mansion grounds.

Every one of them on edge.

None of them ready.

And Meili…

Her hands trembled the moment she caught sight of Subaru, a shiver running down her shoulders.

Because whether the others understood it yet or not —

she remembered.

She knew she had killed him.

She had spent the last two days thinking about it, terrified, guilty, and confused. No one had confronted her. Subaru hadn’t even looked her way.

Unbeknownst to her, he was more worried about how everyone would react to the twins’ behavior — because once he’d calmed down, the thought hit him like the truck that honestly should’ve hit him if anything in his life made sense.

So he hadn’t had the mental space to think about the girl he hadn’t even met at the time of his death.

But Meili was scared, very scared.

Three hours later, they had all gathered in the garden.

Ryuzu stayed in the village to watch with the residents there.

Everyone faced the sky as the final minute of the countdown ticked away.

Subaru: “Be ready. And prepare to at least hear me out.”

Nods.

Murmured confirmations.

Breaths held.

3…

2…

1…

—

In the Empire of Vollachia, the crowd was already gathering.

Able—Vincent Vollachia, Emperor in Exile and Emperor Restored—sat atop the balcony overlooking the town square, one leg crossed over the other, posture rigid, expression carved from cold iron. Below him, hundreds of citizens packed into the square, murmuring anxiously beneath the enormous viewing screen that had been counting down for two days straight.

He had ordered this gathering personally.

If the world was going to witness the past of Natsuki Subaru, then the Vollachian Empire would watch with discipline, composure, and martial order. Fear would be tolerated. Panic would not.

The Divine Generals were stationed throughout the square like silent sentinels.

Kafma patrolled the perimeter with sharp, sweeping glances.

Madelyn and Olbart perched on rooftops, watching like hawks ready to strike.

Zikr sat with the Shudrak.

Behind the Emperor, Goz and Jamal stood at rigid attention, serving as his personal guards.

They were there to maintain order—

And, more truthfully, because none of them intended to miss what was coming.

Near the center of the square, seated along the edge of the fountain, were the Shudrak — the small cluster of warriors who had followed Able into this fortified city through war and sacrifice.

Mizelda sat stoically.

Taritta held her hands tightly in her lap, shoulders tense.

Utakata leaned against Taritta, wide-eyed.

Holly snacked as if this were a festival.

Kuna watched the screen with a silent, thoughtful frown.

Beside them sat Flop and Medium.

Medium, notably, was not on the balcony with Able where she technically belonged as his consort. She had refused his invitation with her usual bubbling honesty.

Medium: “I’m not sittin’ up there all stiff! I wanna watch with everyone! I’ll just make things weird up there!”

Medium: “But you could join us!”

Able: “No, it is my duty to oversee the proceedings as the apex of the empire. I shall not disgrace myself by sitting among the masses.”

Medium: “Well, wherever, you could always join later!”

And before he could refute, she was gone.  

Able stared at her long and flat.

Her refusal had been absolute.

So now Abel sat alone on the balcony, watching the currents of the crowd swirl beneath him. He exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled.

Able: “Two days of anticipation. Two days of unanswered questions. Time to see your true past, Natsuki Subaru.”

His fingers tapped once on the armrest.

The countdown on the enormous screen ticked lower, numbers flickering like sparks ready to ignite a battlefield.

Able narrowed his eyes.

Able: “Time to see the truth.”

3… 

2… 

1…

—

In the Astrea Manor, Felt Camp had gathered once more in the manor garden—the same place they had watched the first viewing two days ago. This time, Reinhard had arranged a proper setup: rows of chairs, cushions, blankets, and a clear line of sight to the massive viewing screen suspended over the garden. 

Kadomon, his wife Raksha, and their daughter Plum had been brought by Carol and Grimm after some initial difficulty. Raksha had cut herself off from her household long ago; it wasn’t distrust holding her back, just the emotional distance she had chosen. But once Carol explained that the worldwide attention placed her and her family at risk, she had stopped resisting and agreed to come.

Plum reunited awkwardly—but brightly—with her cousins Flam and Grassis, the three sitting together with shy, uneven smiles. Their little cluster was the only warm spot in an otherwise anxious, waiting garden.

Five maids—the last ones still on duty—stood nearby, shifting nervously. The rest of the staff had taken the global day off. No guards remained at the manor; Reinhard alone was more than enough to protect everyone present.

Rom muttered as he lowered himself into a garden chair, rubbing his back.

Rom: “Dunno what ta’ expect… but if last time was anythin’ ta go by, this is gonna get real crazy.”

Felt didn’t answer. She sat stiffly beside him, arms crossed tight, foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the grass. She wasn’t ignoring him—she simply couldn’t speak, her eyes locked on the shrinking countdown.

Ezzo: “At least this time, I hope the impression of us will not be so terrible.”

Reinhard, who had returned, nodded silently.

The maids exchanged anxious glances, wringing their hands.

Kadomon clasped his fingers together, whispering.

Kadomon: “Hope the kid’s gonna be okay…”

Raksha settled a gentle hand over his, steadying him.

Plum, squeezed between Flam and Grassis, hugged her knees tightly and whispered:

Plum: “I don’t wanna see any more blood…”

The garden fell completely still.

The massive sky-screen flickered—

3… 

2… 

1…

—

At the Crusch Karsten estate, the atmosphere was solemn.

Crusch sat in the manor garden, the same place where they had witnessed the first viewing two days prior. Her posture was slumped, but dignified as always—her breathing was quieter, her color still faint, her body weakened by the aftereffects of her condition.

Felix hovered anxiously at her side, tail swishing.

Felix: “Crusch-sama, I still think pushin’ yourself like this is bad for your health, nyan…”

Crusch had dismissed the concern immediately.

Crusch: “It will be worse for my health not to understand what is coming.”

She had insisted on watching.

Wilhelm sat slightly behind them, hands folded over his themselves. He had barely spoken since the first viewing. No opinions, no predictions—just long stretches of silence, eyes distant, jaw set.

He had been thinking for two days straight.

Crusch’s father, Meckart Karsten — who had returned for his daughter’s sake when the viewing began — sat with them as well, stiff and formal, though his expression betrayed how unsettled he truly felt. Russell had chosen not to join them; citing “pressing commercial obligations,” though everyone knew he simply preferred distance from whatever was about to unfold.

They hadn’t wanted to watch.

But no one in the kingdom could escape it.

The screens were everywhere.

The countdown had echoed through the capital all night—loud enough to be heard even with windows shut.

So they sat.

And waited.

Meanwhile, in Kararagi, the Anastasia Camp had gathered in their own garden space—a comfortable courtyard behind Anastasia’s temporary residence.

Their reactions were mixed.

Anastasia herself had kept uncharacteristically quiet. She had spent the last two days focusing on business, rescheduling meetings, and carefully avoiding emotional speculation about the viewing. Her silence spoke louder than any comment she could have made.

Julius had withdrawn into training and private contemplation. He offered polite conversation when required, but mostly remained distant, rehearsing the questions he dared not say aloud.

Ricardo kept a protective distance, arms crossed, eyes narrowed toward the screen, keeping the triplets close.

And Halibel…

Halibel was excited.

Halibel: “Eight more arcs’ worth of adventures… ha, this I gotta see. That kid had guts the last time we met.”

His respect for Subaru had only grown from their brief encounter, and he was genuinely curious—maybe even hopeful—about the story that would unfold.

They had not spoken much about the viewing itself.

But all of them understood one thing:

They needed to know what would be revealed, to help? To win? To attack? To defend? No one really knew, but they would learn who Subaru really was.

And so—

In the royal capital…

In Kararagi…

Two camps sat down at two separate viewing screens, each surrounded by their closest allies, each bracing themselves for the truth of an otherworlder who had changed the course of history.

The screens flickered.

3… 

2… 

1…

—

Across the world, from the smallest village to the most fortified kingdom, every remaining faction, family, and camp turned toward the descending numbers on the screens.

It was impossible not to.

The whole world was waiting.

The remains of Priscilla’s camp sat in her manor, Heinkel and Schult settling into their chairs with stiff backs and guarded expressions. Schult’s loyal staff arranged themselves behind them, equally tense. Even far from them, wherever Yae had wandered off to in her latest disappearance, she too paused her travels just long enough to watch the countdown tick away.

In Gusteko, the Holy King, his Archbishop, her loyal attendant, and the entire sacred court took their places. None spoke. None speculated. They simply watched with heavy, ceremonial composure as the final minute bled away.

Up in a prison tower, a prince was waiting with anticipation as the countdown reached closer to zero.

Even the Witch Cult—although fractured—watched.

In Dorrell’s underground hideout, cloaked figures who had gathered there over the past two days stood in silence, their expressions unreadable beneath their hoods.

Far away, reclining on a silk-draped couch, Capella, the Sin Archbishop of Lust, observed the screen with an amused, serpentine smile.

In the city of Picoutatte, the Suwen family assembled together in their private garden, joined by their neighbors and friends, every face drawn tight with apprehension. No one spoke. No one had anything left to say.

In Priestella, Liliana and Kiritaka stood in the broadcast room, prepared to moderate and calm the public should panic arise. Outside the chamber, the entire city fell into anticipatory silence, listening for their voices.

From a high balcony, Lusbel, Tina, Reala, Rafiel, and Fred had set up pillows, blankets, and a tray of refreshments. Their eyes, however, were locked on the glowing screen.

At the top balcony of Toto’s brothel, the Flanders trio—Doltero, Toto, and Manfred—sat with drinks, snacks, and a small fanfare of attendants instructed to “make it comfortable.” Even so, none of the three looked relaxed.

In Arlam Village, the villagers gathered together in the central clearing, where Ryuzu sat at the front, expression firm and reassuring as she worked to keep everyone calm. The villagers, already shaken from what they had seen during Arc 1, braced themselves.

In the territories of the Pleiades, in the ruined capital of Lupugna, the Pleiades Battalion—joined by Yorna and Tanza and led by Gustav—sat in disciplined rows before an enormous projection. Even Yorna’s habitual playfulness was gone. They waited in stillness.

Atop the rooftops of a crowded city square, Cecilus and Arakiya lounged casually, looking down on the masses gathering below. Beside them, perched with uncontainable energy, Spica kicked her legs against the tiles, babbling about how excited but worried she was to watch.

Far from the cities, on a simple wooden cabin deck deep in the wilderness, Todd Fang and his wife Katia sat side by side in the cool air, their faces unreadable, their gazes fixed on the flickering screen.

In her high office overlooking her domain, Serena stood by the window, arms crossed, gaze cold as she watched the countdown through the glass.

And even Zerestia, the ancient spirit who had denied interest in human concerns for generations, could not resist the pull of this moment. She watched in silence, her expression unreadable but undeniably focused.

Across the world—

from empires to villages,

from criminals to kings,

from roof-perching warriors to ancient spirits—

every living being fixed their eyes on the same descending numbers.

The screen flickered.

3… 

2… 

1…

And arc 2 began.

—

Subaru: “Here we go…”

—