Chapter Text
Roswaal twirled his glass, the wine inside making waves while his coloured gaze watched the movements of the red liquid. He crossed his legs, the silk chair groaning lightly with that gesture. His left hand started to tap the desk in front, to show the passing of time. The room, dimly lit, was entombed in soft and flammable wooden planks inside the underground of Costuul. Roswaal breathed in contently, being reminded of the times he had used this room for more backdealing. The dusty and stale aroma, bringing back old memories.
His eyes sharpened at the nostalgia. Today he did not have better company than during those memories. “Soooo…” His fake tone of always on, he smiled brightly and turned to this new company. “What does the Witch Cult want with the Lord their land you just attacked?”
Third, knowing that their job of leading was finished, backed a few steps and joined Meili and Felt, leaving Elsa to face the mage. Her usual smirk missing and gestures cold and to the point, her gaze never left the margrave in front. “Lord Roswaal, my new contractor wants to establish a mutually beneficial relationship with you. As you already know, our objectives align."
“It's a bit bold to offer that proposition after harming my property.” The glass stopped moving. “As you already know, the Mathers household has been defending that structure since our founding. Understandably so, I find myself quite annoyed at having had to act in a way that minimises damages to what we are protecting.” His fingers paused.
“It was the Sword Saintess that caus-”
“Was she, I wonder?” His fake tone died. “Can your new contractor, one that should be watchful over your lack of pride as a killer for hire, be able to prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that it wasn’t his direct actions that caused such a…let’s call it development, to occur?” His gaze left the glass and turned to Elsa. Not entertained. Not joyful. Not teasing. Just a logical stare that was judging her value as a mere number to balance.
Elsa forced a small smile. “We both know the answer to that, Margrave.” Neither she, Meili nor Third cowered once Roswaal softly placed the glass on his desk. Neither when he uncrossed his legs and sat properly, both arms placing themselves in an A shape, hands grabbed. Felt, pale, backed a step as the pressure mounted in the small room.
“It appears so.” His smile, reduced to a calculated gesture devoid of any of its supposed joy, worsened even further at his next words. “I wonder…is your objective to make Lady Emilia the next queen, really?”
“The Sin-Archbishop of Pride would not lie to you, Lord R-”
“But he already has?” The small tilt of Roswaal's head made Elsa freeze up. Her smirk grew. This…was a problem. “My gospel deviated mightily from its writ since the day I contracted you, Bowel Hunter. I can only take this as my fears and expectations being right.” He inched forward a tiny bit. Felt tensed up and Meili lost her tranquil atmosphere, eyes sharpening at that gesture. “And so we find ourselves past the point of questions and words. I need some reassurance.” His smile turned cryptic and his tension rapidly melted again. “Once that is done, we may talk from equal to equal.”
“And when will such a thing be done, Lord Roswaal?”
“Oh, you wiiiiill come to learn of it veeeeeery soon.” Fake tone back, Felt felt capable of breathing normally again, her breaths having caught up on her throat. “And I hope that the Sin-Archbishop succeeds, as he does seeeeeem somewhat competent in destroying the legitimacy of the Cooooouncil of Elders.” His smile turned teasing as his hand returned to the glass of wine. “And do not fret, Bowel Hunter, I won’t ask for you to retuuuuurn the payment.”
Her smile lost some of its shine as her body relaxed a bit. “I see. Would it be grievous of us to take advantage of your hospitality and ask you for some magic tool makers of good craft?”
After a few seconds Roswaal let out a chuckle. “If it isn’t aaaaarrogant to nominate myself as myyyyyy own recommendation.” His eyes glinted in entertainment. Pride was reckless beyond measure, it seemed. Or maybe just sure of his victory. “What tool did you need? Something explosive, flight…What it is that the Witch Cult needs from my humble city and domain?”
Third raised at that. Grabbing Felt by the shoulders, and receiving a kick and a bite from that, they pushed the child forward, her black cloak hiding her injury. “One of our operatives acts below full efficiency and the Sin-Archbishop of Pride demands and so it will be corrected.”
Roswaal grew colder. Now this was… “I see, and what would you make me do?”
Felt, having grown slower, turned to Third, not understanding their words. “You shall correct her injury in your best way. We demand her arm to recover to something usable.” And so the cultists callously pushed her forward, removing her cloak, revealing the missing limb. “A replacement has been demanded and we obey.”
Roswaal blinked, eyes tracing the injury while his medical knowledge managed to understand the source of it despite it being still covered. Blade work. Punishment from a crime? His eyes did not flicker to Felt’s as he perfectly remembered her expression. Too alive, too energetic. She was no cultist. She was just a teenager and had maybe walked down the wrong path. His smile widened a bit. Well, who was now walking a very wrong path too. “I will see what I can do. Any problems I must know about? Weak gate, conditions with her od, mana?”
“Not that Pride knows of.”
“That was a question that I had to answer, you…” Felt’s words, too weak already, died as her gaze turned to the cultist. They would not react to anything she had to say so it was wasted effort. And so her gaze moved to the mage in front. Terrifyingly powerful. Lord Roswaal, court mage. And he was part of the Witch Cult too? Just an associate? She did not know nor understood. What was his stake here? Her left hand clenched. What did they intend to do with her? An experiment, a…?
“What is your name, child?”
Felt jumped a tiny bit, the seriousness in his tone surprising her. “Felt Cromwell.”
At that Roswaal raised an eyebrow. “Cromwell? Are you related to Valga Cromwell, the strategist of the demi-human war? I thought he had died long ago…” He frowned, examining her. Seeing her state…he must have died not that long ago instead.
“The…the demi-human war? Old man Rom?” Her tone lowered, her eyes revealing a lack of understanding.
“And you are no demihuman but full human…” He snapped his fingers and a torrent of warm water, followed by a wave of hot wind both cleaned and dried her off. Golden hair, crimson red eyes, of around…fourteen to fifteen years. Compiling that with the weird obsession the Witch Cult had with her pointed at a most surprising, and worrying, hypothesis. Could she be a royal? Ignoring her glare and protests, Roswaal slapped his hands once. “I see. I will gladly make a prosthetic arm. I can’t be sure of its full workability but I will start right now.”
At that Elsa’s smile wavered a bit. Felt, less used to intrigue, frowned. “Didn’t you say that your help was out of the table, L-” He paled a bit at the redoubled intensity in Roswaal’s odd coloured eyes.
“It will be fixed, I am sure of it. He will get the message my…helper is going to try and teach him.” His smile made all of Felt’s hair stand on end, sending shivers down her back. It was back to that cold logic of before. To the planning that did not take account of the losses. Felt backed a step. “After all, I need reliability. A man that lies, that threatens the old order, that declares war against it, may very well be on my side. But, until I am sure of it, he is as much of a hindrance as a possible advantage.”
“What…” She gulped. “...is that lesson.”
“To never forget about what must matter most to him.” His smile widened a bit more. Felt bleached. “Lady Emilia.”
……
“Sir Natsuki, you should not be moving this much aft-” Walking a bit too close for comfort, Sylphy shadowed every move of Pride, who had only rested for a measly three days.
“How does it feel when the one foolishly ignoring their condition is another one, huh?!” His victorious tone was less shining when his right arm pushed a branch away, causing a small grimace of pain. Nevertheless, he could not deal with a single hour more in that damned village. These past days had been horrible! Sylphy had not heard a single one of his commands about his eating habits nor anything related to his healing. She had done as she pleased.
Thankfully, no cultists had seen him in such a… “It feels irritating, sir Natsuki. I am asking you to stop now. I have learnt my lesson.”
“No you didn’t!” And there it went his trail of thought. Shaking his head, and growling at how Sylphy pushed the next branch away from his face, he tried to speed up. Sylphy matched. He sped up even more and more and the ex-maid had no problem matching his speed. Neither had the cultist column behind and around.
After a few seconds of him speeding up, now wheezing and panting, he finally stopped, hands on his knees as he doubled over. “Are you done with your tantrum, Sir Natsuki?” Unable to answer her, Subaru had to hear her loud and dramatic sigh. “I would recommend, again, to act as your position demands of you, sir Natsuki. This small run of yours was devoid of any prestige and class. I would, once again, recommend not doing it again to save face.”
His panting was consumed by a fit of coughing as he pointed at her, dozens of recriminations building on his mouth. Her face, a tiny bit tired, mostly exasperated and a small portion of it resigned, was a painting in which he had not expected to see a tinge of entertainment, of happiness. She looked open, free, and enjoying their back and forth. And so her retort hit all the more, causing a small snort thanks to her tiny smirk. And it soon evolved into a hearty laugh.
Sylphy’s next words died as she watched Subaru simply…laugh at the situation. Not his mad cackle of always but an honest, happy laugh that started from his stomach and reverberated in her. Her smirk widening to a noticeable shape as the sight melted a bit of her heart, she lightly shook her head as Subaru grasped the tree next to him, trying to not fall out as he doubled over. Crossing her arms, she watched as the man in front recovered his wits, now coughing as he breathed normally again.
“That was cheating, Syl.” His face was a bit red, a smile trying to break through.
“Then I may have to do such with more regularity, sir Natsuki, for it seems to have worked in stopping your, if I may be honest, mad march.”
Eight, having backed a few steps away from them, had signalled at Fifth to make him turn around, feeling second-hand embarrassment at watching the two of them. Fifth, his mind being invaded with nostalgia, gave her a tiny nod as he turned to look anywhere else, thing that surprised both of them.
“Because it is an absurd situation! Hell, I look like your butler.”
Sylphy raised an eyebrow at that. “You? I fear you would not even know how to properly clean a window. I mean no offense of course, sir Natsuki.”
“You meant all of those words right now!” The smile broke through and he did not notice as he pointed at her in an accusatory fashion. “I know I could do it! I could be a damned butler!!”
Sylphy bowed deeply. “It appears my training in diplomacy needs some extra work. I will try to be diligent enough for those words to be passable during an official meeting, sir Natsuki.”
“At least try to refute it!” His hands caressed his own face, noticing the heat still on it. “God, you swept me to your pace. Are you happy?”
“Yes, sir Natsuki. I am happy to see you laugh.”
Eight buried a surprised cough as she waved at her face, hidden behind her mask. Fifth seemed to shrink a bit, looking less dangerous and scary.
“Wha–Hu-That’s…I…” He turned his face away. “I am always laughing at the world, Syl.”
“Yes, yes, sir Natsuki.” She breathed out, willing to let him escape the topic before her gaze traced his face again. A bit flustered, eyes shifty, right hand scratching his head. “But I have to say that I am glad that you are happy at this moment. I am glad I can make you laugh like that. It is a good sound to listen to.” She blinked as those inside words left her mouth.
Eight wanted to bury herself into a hole. Fifth nodded once, forgotten memories tugging at him.
Subaru froze up. Unable to turn to the proverbial headlights, Subaru rolled his shoulders and resumed his march, trying to leave the embarrassment behind. And so the column of cultists restarted their movement, Eight and Fifth glancing between the silent Pride and the now regretful maid.
“...I can’t say it will happen again but…” His voice lowered to a whisper. Both Eight and Fifth inched a bit forward. “...thanks for that. It felt…normal. Like a normal day.”
“It is a normal day. And I suspect this week will also have another four. These normal days aren’t going anywhere, sir Natsuki.”
Subaru fell silent again. They weren’t going to go away? Why? His life was already destined to end once the Royal Selection did. He was a tool for Lady Emilia. And one that would be broken once he became the greatest villain of the world, together with the Witch Cult, and so…Wait…Together with the Witch Cult. He suddenly became very aware of the countless steps around him. Of Eight and Fifth behind. Of Sylphy at his right. They would also die with him, like Elsa and Meili had done.
He shook his head. They all had chosen their paths, this was not a repeat of the last time. He had not lied to anyone. He would become a Super-Villain yet would simply be defeated by the future queen, Lady Emilia. The cult would simply shatter and be dispersed across the wind. The smart ones would manage to survive…All of them would be able to if they simply returned to their old lives…Was that even possible? Hadn’t he doomed them all by…Subaru shook his head. He would not feel responsible for a bunch of Witch Cultists, no matter how alive they could feel sometimes. H-
Sylphy’s hand stopped his movement. Blinking, his gaze noticed her pointing finger and his gaze fell onto a…little girl with golden twintails?
“It took you a while to pay me any attention, Sin-Archbishop.” Her cold voice destroyed all doubt and trace of melancholy inside Subaru. His eyes sharpened and he stood to his full weight. “Does Roswaal really believe that you could help resurrect mother, in fact? That’s utterly laughable, I suppose.”
Ara and Vela, noticing the danger, left his cloak and returned to their spots on his shoulders. “And you are…?”
A tick of irritation moved her right eyebrow. “You deserve not to know my name, cultist. I came here with a very specific set of questions to ask you, in fact.”
“I did not expect Lord Roswaal to doubt my resolution.”
“Why would he not, I suppose?” She sighed. “Your expectations matter not for whatever answer you would be given would be worthless to me, in fact.”
Subaru’s lips moved up in a threatening smile. “Oh, is that so…I guess spirits can be this arrogant, I suppose.”
“....Will you really make the half-elf queen? Will you prioritise her above everything else?”
“Yes. That remains the reason for my existence.”
Both Yin users engaged in a duel of stares, neither of them backing away. Seconds turned into minutes and Beatrice was the first one to blink. “I see, in fact. You are indeed honest.” Just as the air lost some tension she waved her arm. Half a dozen minyas appeared and were thrown with lethal intent. Two pierced Fifth. Another two Eight. And the last two, one at him and another at Sylphy.
Subaru blinked as he was pushed away and into safety. Hitting the ground, the sound of three bodies tumbling down followed. And not one of the cultists moved in any other way.
“You should always remember that, I suppose.” Her eyes revealed that she felt proud of herself. She had repaid the insult with ample interest while dealing with the disturbances that were beyond Roswaal’s Book of Wisdom. Really, two cultists faking being human even in their robes and a delusional maid. That she had been called for this idiotic task was insulting. Uncaring for another confused blink of Subaru, she cast a Murak and jumped away. She shook her head as she moved away. Pride had not even managed to react to her magic. Slothful.
Subaru frowned and got off the floor. ‘That was it? What sense does this warning have? I lost three f-’ The pained gasp behind him shattered that flimsy thought out of habit. His hands unclenched and he turned around.
Sylphy, not having been hit in the head thanks to her movement, had fallen back against a tree. The two minyas had pierced her, one her side and another her stomach. Her left arm, clenching around the two shards, was already red. No orange from her dress was in view either, having also been coated in her rapidly gushing out life. Her left hand, extending towards Subaru, was quickly grabbed.
Subaru did not know why he had moved. He had never cared for the cultists under his wing. He had used them like pieces, he had…
“Su-Subaru…” The weak word silenced his mind. His hands clenched around hers, trying to warm it, trying to warm death away. “This…is not your fault.” He blinked, not knowing why his vision was getting blurry when her words turned into a dying whisper. “I…was willing to give out my life for you…but…please…do not become a tool…life yo-” Her eyes lost their shine and the arm lost its strength.
Well. It was normal. Her lungs had been hit. Her sternum had been cracked. It was a miracle she had had these few, precious seconds to waste in such dumb words. Really. She had believed the lie to the end. Her death only warranted a shrug from Pride, a turn around, and a restart of their march. After all, she had been a whim, a curiosity. Someone he had picked up without thinking about its consequences. This really was no wench in his plans. Not even a stop. The three of them were easily replaceable.
He blinked, not knowing why he was crying. Not knowing why he was still kneeling in front of the corpse. He looked down at the hand that he had grasped. A second hand he had grasped too late. A second hand that he had been forced to notice its coldness. A second hand of the second person he had failed to save. It made no sense why his throat was clenching up, why his grip had increased in potency so much that the bones of that dead hand started to crack. It made no sense. Why…why again!? Why was it that every time he was saved, the one foolish enough to help had to die! Emilia! Meili! Elsa! Sylphy!
His jaw clenched. His hands left hers. His gaze, on her. To say it was irrelevant. His hands clenched his obsidian dagger. No time for words, actions would come.
…
Before Beatrice waved her hand, Subaru screamed, “Sham-”
The minyas shards, being cast remarkably faster, were shot all the same. And so the same result as before came to be.
…
Before Beatrice waved her hand Subaru pointed at the floor, Ara’s fires exploded the ground below, raising a storm of dirt and rocks aimed very precisely to deal with the shards. Just as Subaru rushed ahead, readying a Shamak cast, a shard pierced his shoulder despite the curtail.
“Did you think that mere stone would stop my shards?” The cold voice came from beyond the dust cloud. The next minya hit him straight in the leg. The same result as before.
…
“....Will you really make the half-elf queen? Will you prioritise her above everything else?”
He despised those two lines. He despised the Great Spirit in front. He despised this situation. He despised that he could not let go of it! This was not the hill to waste countless resets. The board was not set. The checkpoint was horrid. He had no pieces of real utility to use. The terrain had been prepared by the opponent. And he could not win. He should accept it, recover his focus, and accomplish his objective of making Emilia the queen. He would only lose two damned cultists and a powerless maid. A powerless person. A magicless, moneyless person.
“Yes. That remains the reason for my existence.” His words were empty and meaningless. Repeated too many times out of muscle memory to mean anything in this battlefield.
Beatrice’s expression grew colder. “I can believe you, I suppose.” She waved her hand.
“Minya.”
Six shards into the direction of hers. And, just as Beatrice created six micro portals to phase her shards away from his, the latters rotated and sped up, impacting against each other midair. She raised an eyebrow as she turned to look at the Sin-Archbishop.
“El-Minya.” Two dozen shards appeared all around her as Fifth grabbed Sylphy and the cultists retreated. “I am baffled by your orders, Sin-Archbishop. Do you believe yourself to be able to best a Great Spirit with her own element, in fact?”
“Nah.” His lips curled into a smile as Ara started to shine. He had had enough of this class in Yin magic. But the class did not agree, it seemed. “I believe myself to be able to best a Great Spirit with two of my elements.”
“...your arrogance will be your downfall, Pride.” And with no gesture expressed those two dozen shards flew through the air, positioning themselves around Subaru. “But, today, I will simply incapacitate you and follow Roswaal’s recommendation, I suppose. Your lack of determination is disturbing, in fact.”
And so the two dozen shards were shot, aiming for legs and shoulders, aiming to incapacitate. A cloud of Shamak interrupted Beatrice’s line of sight and she heard…Beatrice waved again her hand, creating a barrier in front of her against which all of her shards broke.
The cloud of Shamak was dispersed and Subaru was behind, having also copied her short teleportation magic together with her barriers, creating a protective barrier capable of teletransporting all that it was hit with to the other sides of itself, redirecting the attacks. And so Beatrice finally frowned.
“That’s a nice expression, Great Spirit. Took me long enough to achieve it.” His mocking smirk shook her not as he bowed to her. His gaze as he left that motion, as cold as hers. “What’s your next move? I am honestly done with the El-Minya.”
She did not quip this time nor uttered any word to cast her spell. Dozens upon dozens of purple shards darkened the sky above her. A simple wave and they were all thrown ahead. And almost all crossed tiny portals, appearing and reappearing constantly, all in an effort to dampen and confuse their trajectories. Still, as they were aimed to incapacitate they could not all rush Subaru at the same time, leaving the smallest of chances, of windows of opportunity. And so it became a rain that fell only on Pride.
Daggers out, Subaru finally moved. All of the lessons he had asked from Elsa were, once again, clear and vivid in his memories. His eighteen year old body, back to a strength and agility he was used to. His theoretical skill, maintained thanks to Return by Death, was backed by the rebuilt muscle memory. And so a tenth of the way had been cleared before this battle. The other ninety percent, pure timing.
Tilt the head slightly. Parry the next one. Slide the third. Pommel strike. Bend. Jump. Twist. Turn around and jump again. Bend, kick, slash twice. His movements, appearing random, were all calculated through countless repetitions. The thinnest of timings, managed. And the ones that he could not, countered by Vela with their own Minyas, theirs slightly more dark. Sweat ran down his back. His hands cramped up and his fingers were broken. His arms started to tremble as the force of the hits travelled down, hurting muscles and bones. Too close dodges cut wounds, these moments ramping up after the twenty fifth dodge.
As if fighting against a storm, Subaru found himself dodging against droplets of rain. And what a downpour it was, for every minya that he failed to break or deviate from its trajectory was simply teleported back and forced to rejoin the dance. Again, and again. Again and again. Again, again, again, again. Seconds turned into minutes and tiredness ramped to exhaustion. Old wounds were reopened and the orange and black of his clothes turned red. And yet he kept this dance. He would not give up. He will not. He refused.
He was different from that first time. He was better, stronger, faster. He had determination, confidence, unbreakable will. He was the Sin-Archbishop of Pride, not simply Natsuki Subaru, not weak, worthless Subaru. The first loop would not happen here, it would be defeated. He refused to be locked here. He had been given a chance. He had his power. He would abuse it, bend it, overuse it. He cared not how many tries it took, how many loops, how many self-inflicted deaths. He would save her! He would not fail her! He would save Sylphy, Eight, Fifth. He was the damned Sin-Archbishop of Pride! He would not be defeated by a mere child with delusions of grandeur. He would not be defeated by Roswaal’s flimsy determination. His own would prevail.
Beatrice stared silently as the storm of now a hundred minyas slowly dimmed into fifty. Into twenty-five, into ten, five, one. The obsidian dagger did not break as it struck the last one. The Subaru in front fell to his knees, body begging for more air, for a reprieve, for a pause. Trembling legs and arms, Pride rose again.
Beatrice waved her hand.
He could not manage to move in time.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He forced himself to move in time, dodging the last two minyas. A cloud of Shamak was next and he forced himself to walk forward. He tripped on a rock.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He forced himself to move in time, dodging the last two minyas. A cloud of Shamak was next and he forced himself to walk forward. He kept himself to his memorised route, dodging rocks, stones, holes of dirt, roots and branches. Jumping out of the cloud he was met by another dozen of minyas.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He forced himself to move in time, dodging the last two minyas. A cloud of Shamak appeared, perfect cover to cast his own. It pushing towards Beatrice, her dozen of minyas were shot just as Subaru dived into the ground. Raising quickly, he tried to run towards the spirit. The minyas, however, reversed trajectory and returned, stabbing him through the back.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He was unable to force himself to move in time.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He forced himself to move in time, dodging the last two minyas. A cloud of Shamak enveloped him. “Al-Goa!” He roared, casting instead a Shamak via Vela. The feint worked, causing the Great Spirit to shield herself in a barrier that would have reflected his spell. He did not want to be burnt alive again, after all. Rushing to the right, he threw a rock to the left. The Great Spirit noticed the feint with the spells and, hearing that stone, launched her dozen minyas in that direction, destroying that area into the remains of a warzone.
Subaru burst through the cloud of Shamak. On his right hand, a Vela with two minyas. Having done himself most of the work in that spell, the pair cast the new spell at a bored Beatrice, who reacted not as she was protected by her barrier. Around her another dozen minyas were formed just before the two from Subatu hit each other in front of her barrier. She frowned as the Shamak that had been combined within them burst out of its crystalline prison, blocking her view of the Sin-Archbishop.
She made no movement as she ordered the minyas to rush in front of her. Their altitudes continually lowered and increased, bringing destruction to all that had been in front of her. Just in front. She was against a Yin user. The minyas redirected towards the sky after she realised her folly. It took just a second and a half.
Subaru, too slow, was shredded apart.
…
[...] It took just a second and a half. And a second and a half was enough for Pride, using Ara, to rocket forward as he rained fire spells on the spirit below. Never aiming at her, his Goas and Al-Goals slammed into the dirt all around her, raising further coats of darkness all around the spirit.
“You cannot harm me, Sin-Archbishop. You are four hundred years too young to best me, in fact.” The words from inside the blizzard of dust poured gasoline onto his heart. He had lost count of how long this had taken and t- You have to be kidding.
Subaru watched as Beatrice returned the minya shards around her. Doubling their number, she enlarged them as she combined them. The titanic crystalline shards then started to fastly rotate, vanquishing the non-magical cover. Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him. Her eyes widened a tiny bit as Subaru crafted a barrier. Instead of trying to block or reflect the too enormous barrage, he had charged his barrier with a variation of El-Vita, forcing gravity to be reverted around it as to push away all of the shards, causing them to divert their trajectories.
‘Somewhat impressive.’ With half a thought she took back control over her spell. Twirling them in the air, she combined them back into the bigger shards in the time that took Subaru to fall halfway to the ground.
…
Twirling them in the air, she combined them into bigger shards, a small gap of time that Subaru took advantage of to, once again, rocket forward and dodge the enormous shards that embedded themselves against the ground. The impact cracking them, Beatrice took control over the pieces and forced them to follow the Sin-Archbishop with a wave of her hand.
“Now!” And so Ara puffed out and breathed out their own dragon’s breath, a destructive tongue of pure fire that lit the nearby vegetation. The weakened crystals, reutilised again and again as to allow the spirit to conserve mana, fully shattered under that duel. And so Beatrice watched as that quasi-spirit ran out of almost all mana and Subaru fell onto the ground, rolling onto it with practised movements as to perfectly lessen the fall.
“I will admit, you are surviving more than I had expected you to, I suppose.” Not having moved a centimetre for her position, she apathetically watched as Pride struggled to raise to his feet. “Maybe if you used your position as a Sin-Archbishop instead of making light of me you would have stood a better chance, in fact.” Her statement, more of a question. The Great Spirit did not understand why he was not doing so. Was it to prevent unnecessary losses? Too reckless of a move. If he died it was all over…Oh, right. She shouldn’t be aiming to kill.
His growl as he raised from the ground, glare on her, quickly made her forget that part of the plan. With his tricks and skill she should not take him lightly. “When will you cease your endless prattling, in fact? I am starting to feel like you are here just to have a good time, I suppose.” Shaking his head, he extended his arms, cloak fluttering behind, in a mocking gesture.
“You will not get a reaction out of me with mere verbal harassment, in fact. Y-” Blinking, she watched as her barrier reflected a fire spear spewed from inside his cloak only for that one to be returned to him and be blocked by a wall of ice, creating a cloud of steam. Rolling her eyes, she simply watched as the cloud grew in dimensions only to dim again, being too small to hold for too long. A desperate last trick, another feint? It did not– A dagger, thrown from inside that cloud, hit her barrier bouncing off it. –matter. Her eyes located the source of the throw and sent a wave of minyas in that direction. The shards tore through the forest behind, toppling trees and causing a cacophony of sounds.
Sounds…She reinforced the barrier at her back just as Pride stabbed at it with murderous intent. Her eyes moved to the dagger on the ground in front. Dissipating traces of a minya. “So you used that steam cloud to jump with a Murak, threw that dagger remotely to bait me into destroying the forest just so that you could…land behind me and fail to pierce my barrier, in fact?”
A punch was her answer, only injuring the Sin-Archbishop behind. Sighing, she turned around and missed the no longer dissipating traces of a minya. Face to face with Pride, she stared at him. Tens of small cuts, torn clothes, bruises all over. A black eye and a few missing teeth. His open eye, a door to the madness behind. Filled with hatred, disappointment, self-hate and…boredom? Something hit the barrier below her feet and she finally moved a step forward, very confused.
“Shame, at least now I know that your barrier fully covers you.” And the Sin-Archbishop in front smiled. Deranged. Broken…Victorious?
With not much time to contemplate his words, Beatrice cast an El-Vita. She did not grimace as his legs broke due to the appearing pressure. Nor when his arms did too. Her gaze followed as the figure in front was reduced to a lying person, unable to even get his face off the ground. “A shame that knowledge will be useless in your current situation, I suppose.” Knowing the man in front to be unable to move, she turned around, her gaze turning to her objective.
“Al-Goa.”
She blinked, not knowing why he had even tried to strike her. His pained screams revealed the surreal truth. He had used her barrier to aim at himself.
…
Beatrice waved her hand.
He was unable to force himself to move in time.
…
Fragmenting the enormous shards, she extended her hands and, after half a second, threw them all onto him.
…
Something struck at the barrier at her back. She threw it a glance. The sword was, once again, being carried by the minya and trying to penetrate her barrier. Useless. As she returned her attention to the man that had foolishly punched her barrier, fist now bleeding, her frown worsened. The fire s-
An explosion behind her broke the obsidian dagger, forcing its tip through the barrier and hitting her second, weaker one, directly around her.
“Oh, come on!!”
“Was t-” Paling a tiny bit, Beatrice dispelled her first barrier to focus on her second one just as that tip transformed into a minya crystal that tried to pierce the second one again. Blinking, she flinched at the strike of Subaru’s dagger, too close now to her face. The danger now, for the experienceless spirit, feeling too real. A stab, a slash, another Goa thrown at her. Her corporal barrier, having to be molding to her movements as she retreated from that barrage of physical strikes, unable to reflect the spells.
The initiative of the battle had flown from her to the Sin-Archbishop in front momentarily, allowing him to try and overwhelm her. And maybe it would have worked had his body been in any state to back this fierceness. Instead he simply faltered, too pained, out of breath and with his adrenaline almost fully consumed. And so Beatrice recovered her wits just enough. Her barrier expanded again, destroying all magics trying to attack her and knocking Subaru on his back with its hit. He gasped as he hit the floor head and back first, his vision now wobbly and seeing stars. No longer able to get off the floor.
“This theatre has gone on for long enough, I suppose.” Beatrice’s glare, rapidly kicking away the panic of before, settled in anger. She extended her right but, before she could point down, a hundred arrows rained on her position. Each hit from the warbow powered projectiles threatened to crack her barrier. And so her confidence and pride let logic enter seamlessly. She had spent a fair bit of mana trying to defeat Pride. Could she outdo the entire column of cultists now?
Her eyes traced the lines of cultists. Rows of shields ready to block her spells; the longbows nocking a new arrow; the few mages in the backlines preparing their own spells. And despite this, she knew she could win but…would it be worth it? Her objective had been to eliminate the possible anomalies around Pride and test his mettle. The second had been accomplished but the first one…Her eyes no longer detected neither the abnormal cultists nor the woman. That left her with two options. Retreat or wipe this entire group.
“I see now…you were trying to distract me long enough for your forces to ready themselves and hide them, I suppose…” Mused out loud Beatrice as another volley was shot and blocked. “You, from the start, knew you could not win, in fact. What is your name, I wonder?”
Subaru snickered at that, each tiny movement bringing waves of pain. “Natsuki Subaru, Sin-Archbishop representing Pride! May we not meet again, Great Spirit of the Forbidden Library!”
Beatrice’s gaze flickered at him, her presentation having been cut off. The longbowmen in front nocked again. She jumped away with Murak, dodging most of the volley. This should suffice. If he had been capable of this, the kingdom would be an easy task. And he had meant his words about the half-elf. Retreat was advisable and so she did.
Subaru passed out.
……
“I do not recognise that ceiling.” Subaru blinked, a very bad feeling crawling down his back as those words left his mouth.
“I expected you to, sir Natsuki. After all, we are back to the same village and, most important, back to the same healer’s house.” Sylphy words were cold and enraged, trying to mask the enormous worry behind. “I can’t believe you have been injured this much in a mere week.”
“The healer’s house?!” Frowning, he looked around as if trying to refresh his memory. Noup. He did not remember this. The walls, furniture, everything was alien to him. Turning his head, he finally looked to the right, a forgotten memory striking at his head…Wait, he remembered this. He remembered Sylphy, seated on that chair, grabbing his hand like this very instance… “Wait! Didn’t I tell you to not grab my hand?!”
“And what did I tell you, sir Natsuki?”
What she had told him indeed. He held no memories of that…Lie, this was a lie. His frown deepened as nostalgia struck him. “You…you said that you would not obey that order, right?”
Sylphy frowned, worry increasing at him seemingly having forgotten her words. Could he have been regressing that fight? Her stare grew in pity as she stared at the man in front. Her voice, no longer apathetic, was a most soft blanket. “And what did I say next, sir Natsuki?”
“That…” He groaned, the next words out of his mind. He had pushed them away all by himself, after all. He could not remember what he had not cared about. What he had not believed. What he did not want to remember.
Her tone lowered to a guilty whisper. “That I refuse to not try and comfort you when you are in pain, sir Natsuki.” Her left reassuringly clenched his right as hers caressed its back, tracing figures as if writing on it. Her gaze lowered to it. It was now filled with new wounds and callouses. He had torn skin and flesh stopping that storm of shards. It next trailed his muscular arm, almost hidden away by bruises and marks. One from where a bone had been sticking out again. It finished in his face, two eyes open and teeth back where they were. Onto a gaze that was staring at her as if she was mad. She breathed in. “Thank you for saving my life again, sir Natsuki.”
And there it was. The confused frown. The pained grimacing. The disbelief. “I did not save you specifically, Syl. I was protecting our column of…”
She ignored the flimsy lie, the diversion. His try to reject her gratitude. “While I hate that you have to do what you do to protect me, I can only be thankful for you, sir Nat-”
He had looked away, wh- “Subaru.” His voice, weak, creaking, pierced through her. It was now vulnerable. Carrying ghosts of the past. “It’s Subaru, miss Sylphy.” The please did not leave his lips yet she understood him enough to see the missing word.
She shuffled on her chair, “I…can’t do that, sir Natsuki. We are lord and vassal, we-” The excuse left her lips too fast. She had not expected to ever see him vulnerable this soon. It should have taken a few more…Oh.
“Then at least when we are alone. Please.” His hand, instead of trying to run away, was grabbing into hers as if he feared it would grow cold. As if…
Her expression softened even more. A bittersweet smile appeared on her face as Subaru’s gaze kept staring at the bed. How many tries had it taken him? She…was not sure but she wanted him to never have to do that again. “I…I see, si-Su-” She forced a cough, surprised at how difficult it was to acquiesce to this request. “I see, Subaru,” The name felt…right, when it left her lips. It was the name of the man in front. Birds of a feather flock together was it? How poetic that two traumatised people would find solace on each other. “I will accept this request and call you by your name when we are alone.”
The tension left his hand. His next exhalation, long. “Thank you…really, it means…something.”
“I hope it does, s-Subaru. I would love if I could mean something to you.”
He blinked, confused. It soon turned into embarrassment and now he tried to pull the hand away, unsuccessfully again, to scratch at his head, to try and divert her attention from his face. “Can’t you not even take a single moment seriously, Syl!?”
She tilted her head, her smile now a teasing smirk. “But I am taking this very seriously, Subaru. I want to mean something to you.”
“Then stop saying dumb shit!” He turned his head to her. A bit flushed but his eyes…she tensed a tiny bit, the determination, the strength, the sheer emotion in them apparent. “You already do so stop doubting that, alright.”
And it was now she the one who blinked, confused. This was…Her turned her face the tiniest bit to the right. “I see. I find myself feeling very glad at this unexpected development.”
At her direct words Subaru also looked away. “And there’s something called thoughts, Syl. You should try them sometime instead of just talking.”
She tilted her head at him. “But, Subaru, you never think?”
“Rude much?!?!”
…………