Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Subaru doubled down, his body reeling from the icicle that had pierced his chest and ended his life…The buzzling of life all around, slowly piercing his senses as his body regained feeling. What? Why? He had accomplished his objective, he had made her Queen, he had…He had made her cry…He shook his head, his gaze looking around. The Royal Capital stood as if nothing had happened, buzzling with life. Also a bit smaller, as if he had gone back a few years in time.

Plastic bag back on his hand. A track suit. All otherworldly, very clearly pointing at his first loop. And it made no absolute, minuscule amount of sense. His checkpoints had never regressed. All of that work, all of that time, all of those sacrifices…

A carriage passed by as his thoughts froze. No. No, no no no. He would not be fooled by that mere hope. They must be dead. This must be a torture from hell itself. They all must be dead. The capital must be burning. And Emilia must be ruling what remains. His frenzied steps carried him to an alleyway by a path he had treaded almost a hundred times. Rushing through it, he finally reached the confirmation that he was dreading, hoping, waiting, praying, refusing?...for.

In the crammed backstreet away from the bustling main roads, he was welcomed by voices he had heard long ago.

“Hey, buddy. You come play with us for a second?” 

The names he had willingly forgotten, but the encounter? That remained in his mind. Around eighty tries had it been?

“Why are you looking so spaced out, boy?”

The third one shrugged. “He doesn't understand what's goin' on. Say we make 'im find out.

Subaru, after his paralysis of almost a minute, started to cackle. The laugh was utterly insane, devoid of control. Loud enough to start harming his throat as he doubled over. The three delinquents looked at each other, chills running down their backs. They took a step back. He could not believe it! He had been given the opportunity to redo everything! To not have to sacrifice a single one of them! To, with all of his new knowledge, finally give Emilia the throne she deserved!

Not a burning ruin, not a torn up nation, but the best one he could grant! Fully loyal to her! The perfect paradise for the woman that had saved him! And he had finally learnt how to kill the hero, the Sword Saint! He knew what to do! He…Subaru started to cough, the mad glint in his eyes, stronger than it had ever been. They did not have to die either.

“...uuuh…are we really sure about this, guys?”

“...well, he does not seem to be armed and he seems to have some weird items?”

“I also do not see it, not gonna lie. We should…”

Subaru advanced a step, still coughing, and they backed two. Still trembling out of laughter, Subaru threw his head back and roared. “I’m back, Lugunica!! Round two it is!!” Ending his snickering, he breathed out to calm down. His gaze finally turned to the three people in front, two already armed. “You, you lot are still here?”

The third one aimed a knife at Subaru, slightly trembling in fear. “Ye-yeah! And we want all of your things so drop that bag and beat it, you maniac!”

Another insane chuckle before it got cut off in the middle. His face now cold, Subaru tilted his head at them. “Then…how about you start right now?”

His arrogance made the three criminals turn to each other. A few nods and they rushed him in. Subaru, used to a body a few years older and having forgotten the muscle memory required for this fight, found himself suddenly in hot waters. Quick to switch gears, he focused on dodging and pitied them against each other, always positioning himself so that only one could freely attack him. Just as he kicked the first in the knee and disarmed him, dagger clinking against the ground, a female’s voice thundered right behind him.

“That’s enough.”...That voice, that voice he would always remember. Reinhard…And why had he saved him now? This time? After everything that had gone by?...Just to humiliate him, that must be why.

The four people in front of that entity stopped their movements. Four gazes fell on her. Red hair, cold blue eyes, hand on a dragon sword that had left a tiny bit its scabbard. A figure of overpowering strength.

Subaru growled, seeing the illusion of a pillar of flames like so long ago. Piercing the very heavens, that representation of the unabashed, overwhelming power of his nemesis stood there, even if her glare ignored him and focused on the three criminals in front. And so the usual wave of envy, grudges and loathing arrived, consuming his mind. “Reinhard…” He would recognise that stance, that sword, those eyes everywhere. A muscular build, a calmness that never broke. Always so sure of himself, always so…

Subaru blinked. Wait a damn second…

“That’s…that’s the Sword Saintess!”

Saintess?

“Adelheid Van Astrea!!”

…Adelheid?

“Seems like I do not need to introduce myself. Now, if you wish to continue employing such strong measures, I, as a knight, will fight back.” She advanced a few steps, her gaze flickering to the now extremely confused boy.

……a woman?

The three criminals looked at each other and, after a few seconds, ran away as fast as they could, leaving their dagger behind, right next to Subaru’s right foor.

Approaching the man, Adelheid tried to peer into his sour face. “I’m glad you are safe. Are you unhurt?”

Subaru froze up as she patted his shoulder, trying to snap him out of his reverie. Finally recovering, he swatted that hand away, his face a snarl. Adelheid blinked at the contradictory thoughts in his head. Extreme confusion, denial, envy, regret, contempt, fear, sadness, awe, hatred…It was a veritable storm that continuously swung one way and another. “Aren’t you too kind, Re-Adelheid, huh?!”

Adelheid frowned as the man backed a few steps, glaring at her with an expression of pure hatred that, despite its intensity, never managed to overpower the storm in his mind. His words, also, struck as his honest opinion. “...have we met before, sir…?”

At that Subaru laughed again. Its tone varying its tone out of madness, lowered to a growl. “I don’t think we have, Adelheid! But I know enough about how this is going to go!” His expression morphed again too quickly, too unstable. Now, an aggressive smirk. “And you will regret having saved me today, this time!!” 

Adelheid blinked, her hand moving the dragon sword a bit more out of its scabbard. Only the evident regret in his mind stopped further movements. The hope in it, too wavering and too shining to squash even if it felt rotten. She knew a lot about rotten hope, after all. “My apologies, sir, but I don’t think I will ever regret saving you today.”

“...” He grimaced before moving into a deranged scowl. “Is that so, Adelheid? Is that so?!?! Why are you always so…you?! Do you always have to be so much better, so much stronger, so much courageous?! So much…you?!” The words she uttered right after his pyrrhic victory that had been proven as solid as sand, a kick to his guts.

Adelheid simply watched as the envy in his mind grew to overwhelming proportions, squashing almost every other emotion. Every other emotion except regret and powerlessness. “I believe I am not as good as you are making me out to be, sir. My modest strength is…”

Subaru scoffed, rejecting her self-doubts. “Take that fake humility and shove it up your ass, Adel. You are you and something I could never be. You are a wall I can never surpass. The greatest hero that has ever existed. But I can destroy the idea of a hero.” His gaze recovered its mad glint. “I learned how and I will show you!” ‘And I will make permanent the reality that I can also save someone, that I can also help someone! Even if it’s just a single person. Even if it's just reciprocity.’

“...how could you kill the idea of a hero, isn’t it a mere concept?” Adelheid tilted her head. That movement could have been taken as cute if the circumstances had been different. Taller than him, she had to turn her head down to look at him, something that seemed to also grate him.

Subaru paused. His tone changed again, taking a sudden dive. Had he…really? Could what he had done be called a victory? It must be. But it could be bettered. He had had little time last time… Yes, time! Time had been his only problem, the only reason he had not been able to kill the hero! “I…I’m still working on that…”

“I see?” Adelheid let go of her sword. Its clink as it fell back on its sheath, an electric current for the boy in front who jumped at the sound. “Now, switching topics, sir, have you recently gone to a healer? I know someone who may be willing to give you a check-up in case you…got injured during this fight.”

The compassion and worry in her tone set him off again. “Argh!!!” Pulling at his hair, he let go and pointed at her. “Take this as a challenge, Adel! I will unmask the hero and crown Emilia ruler!!”

Her gaze softened even more, now fully believing him to be in dire need of assistance. “I see…” 

“Stop pitying me!!” He despised that look of hers! That worry, that compassion, that…Stiffening suddenly, Subaru turned to look at the day. Time was ticking. He needed to get moving. He had quite a lot of people he had to meet today, after all. “...you know, Adel. I despise…” ‘Envy.’ “...you. I wish you had…” ‘Saved me like this the first time around.’ “...never appeared. You redo destiny with a careless move and…” ‘Why couldn’t it have been me?’ “...that won’t stand, for me, Natsuki Subaru, will best you!” And he darted off in the same direction the criminals had gone towards while also pocketing the fallen dagger.

And Adelheid stared at the back of the boy he could not make any sense of. The boy whose words went against his own wishes. Nay, that she could empathise with one thing. She could empathise with his self-hate. Her hand left her dragon sword and she resumed her day, her thoughts never leaving the strange, crazy man of before. ‘...Pitiful…’ He seemed to be broken. And unwilling to be helped too. But, was it because he wanted not to or because he believed himself to be beyond repair?

The boy was now out of her sights and so the Sword Saintess moved on, unwilling to shackle a broken person out of mere delusions.

…

Having notified the knights of the Bowel Hunter, Subaru made a quick stop on a building he would never forget. There, a spirit of fire orbited idly. A sphere of dim, red light. A minor spirit. And one that had died for him.

Extending his hand, the spirit floated towards it, Subaru’s pull charming despite the miasma. What’s more, a second minor spirit, this one of yin magic, approached too. “Why would you go so far for me…To protect me to your end despite our contract having ended?”

His question was neither heard nor understood. The feeling of it on his hand, however, real. Subaru stood taller. This second round he would do alone. He would not sacrifice Meili, Elsa, Roswaal, the dealer of death…not even the Blue. Him and the witch cult against the kingdom.

The spirits snuzzled against his hand. Him…and these two spirits.

“Say, would you want to form a contract with me?”

Their movements sped up, showing agreement.

“Alright. Then I vow to be the force that grows you two into two great spirits. In exchange, you will help me become the greatest Sin-Archbishop this world has ever seen.”

Only understanding the intent of wanting to have a mutualist cooperation, they still nodded and accepted.

Subaru’s lips moved into a tiny smile, glad to see it again. He would need to steal some magic stones, though. “Now that I think about it…I never named you lot, huh.” He turned to the fire spirit. “You shall be Ara.” His gaze moved to the yin spirit. “And you will be Vela.”

They both fluttered excitedly around him. His excitement, on the other hand, intensified too much. “And you will help me defeat a legend.”

…

“[...] Why could you be helping me?” 

“I mean you don't need to trust me. If you're fine with being surrounded by guards and losing all possible chances of revenge, just kill me and run away.” Having sped up their meeting, this time Elsa was woundless as she had had, for now, the leeway to dodge the knights without engaging in a fight. His back against that wall of so long ago, his gaze had conflicted feelings as he gazed at the killed.

A dangerous assassin that had killed him multiple times. An accomplice that had saved him almost as much. An egocentrist, sadistic and self-centered person. And a comrade that had sacrificed herself to allow his wish to be met. In the end, he had not been the one to kill her. And, really, as he had had no right to grieve for their deaths, he had no right to celebrate their lives either. His chains to hell would never come undone but, maybe, just maybe, he needed not drag them to it with him. He had been given a chance to fix the point he had erred on. And by Od Laguna itself that he would not miss it.

“The guards' eyes are bloodshot looking for you.” His tone, cold and apathetic. “I misdirected them to be somewhere else, so it'll be a little while before they notice us. But do know that Re-Adelheid is on her way here so our time is ticking.”

Her gaze on the man in front, Elsa tensed up a tiny bit. “While I am grateful, I still don’t understand what your goal is in this.”

Nostalgic words left his mouth. “Just wanted to put you in my debt. It might be helpful to have you around one day.”

“A debt. How strange.” Elsa tilted her head. “And you really seem to want to help me.”

Subaru blinked. Did he? His clothes ruffled a bit as his back repositioned on the wall behind him. “Will you accept it?”

Elsa paused, her ears detecting the incoming knights. “Who am I to reject such a gentleman’s help?” Her hand dug into her pockets and threw him a conversation mirror. “In case we get separated, for that debt of yours.”

A curt nod. Two spirits twirled around him. “The Sin-Archbishop of Pride will get you out of here, Bowel Hunter.”

She snickered, not believing the supposed quip.

…

A small caravan of cultists belonging to the Witch Cult stopped in their tracks, the smell of miasma arriving at their position amidst trees. Shuffling of bushes and steps on sticks and leaves loudened as the presence closed in. A ball of shining red light was the first thing to step out of the shadows beneath the trees’ crowns. Next was a black sphere, also floating. Last was a figure. All cultists kneeled in front, their gazes not lowering still as they traced the man in front.

The Sin-Archbishop of Pride was walking the continent again. All the cultists lowered their heads. Dressed in black clothes with some oranges, his boots echoed his steps with potency. Behind him, a long cloak trailed his steps if never being tainted by the ground below. The outside black, its inside was a bright orange, a warning of poisonous danger hidden below a veritable cascade of black feathers. “Hey, guys, haven’t you heard?”

The cultists shuddered. His breathing and words themselves, a wave of breathtaking miasma that enveloped them all. He…he truly was the most loved one. He would deliver them to their victory. He would lead them all. The Witch Cult had found the speartip they were supposed to follow. They lowered their heads, feeling unworthy to watch even his casual gestures and steps as he got closer.

“Pride is back and he is currently recruiting for help because there’s just so much work to be done. Are any of you interested in birthing a new Witch?” His deranged smile, more fiery than Ara floating above him. He would get all of the help he needed for his plan from the Witch Cult.

They all got on their feet in unison. Hitting their chest, the twenty two cultists in front nodded.

“Then spread the news, brothers and sisters!” He extended his arms, cape billowing thanks to the midnight wind. The moon itself, shining its light on the evil that had come back. “Let’s build a proper Demon Lord castle, let’s become a real faction that will bring fear to all the hearts in this continent!” Ara floated to his right while Vela did the same on his left. “A true army that will shake the earth and unite all the fools that try to oppose us!! And you lot will become my shield and hammer!”

The cultists tensed up, enraptured by his delirious words. Pride was commanding and so they would answer.

Subaru watched the evil in front as seconds went by. He was too far gone. He had done too much wrong. He was a villain, evil, pure darkness. But, maybe, just maybe, the legacy he left this time around would make Emilia happy instead of sad. He would become the greatest villain, so great she herself would not be able to pity him. And he would do it in such a way that granted her no grieving, no sadness. In the same way her saving him had only brought good to him at that time. The Sin-Archbishop of Pride would become a comet that burnt fast and violently, uniting the nation behind her. No royal selection would be needed once he was finished, for the kingdom would beg Emilia to take the throne.

“Believers in love!” Subaru raised a parchment, showing them a new insignia. A flaming, red hand. “Those who would rather follow Pride than any other Sin, carve this onto your clothing and obey this, mine command! Deliver my words to every other sister and brother! Show to the cult the true way, the way that will rebirth Satella!” His hand clenched, destroying the parchment. Ara lit up in flames while Vela enshrouded itself in a shamak, their emotions mirroring his. “And bring to me all of those who would join me to Mount Condor, its countless tunnels and closeness to the Royal Capital will be the perfect base of operations!”   

The cultists bowed, their gospels being rewritten, and dispersed. All of them carrying his command and personal coat of arms.

And Subaru could only smile. A baby step. But the first step on the building of his own faction within the Witch Cult. The real problem would be securing funds and armaments. Food and water they would be able to grow and create inside the mountain’s caverns. Clothing would be trickier and expertise would be hard to come by.

Subaru started to walk, his two spirits still shadowing him. Should he order some kidnappings?...Unrealistic and not workable long term. Maybe he could strike up a deal with the governor of Cramlin? What did Subaru…no, the Witch Cult have to offer? He would have to make a ledger once the cultists tickled in. At the very least he had all of their possessions and expertises. If enough mages followed him, he would be able to make a fake Guild that would set up its headquarters in that city and transform into a cover for his operations.

His brain started to heat up. So much to do and only two measly months to do it! Two months to build a city under a mountain. Not to say anything about an information network, supply routes, training grounds…A veritable mountain of work to ready a mountain base. And he was dying to start for…His steps wavered. Sighing, he almost fell onto a nearby tree.

He was…exhausted. Weakened, he slid down the tree, the late summer night getting chilly if not to lethal levels. His gaze moved up, the full moon brightening the night. He…he had really reset back to zero. And…he was happy for it. He…he had been granted an undeserved second chance. And he vowed to this night sky to make worth of it. Fully. He would make a perfect ending for her.

He closed his eyes, knowing he needed rest. His mind, glad for this rest after the debacle over the capital and this today, rapidly submerged into the darkness of sleep. Of dreams. Of nightmares. And so the events of this long today started to replay. Of his failings, of his choices. Of all the dead he had brought out of his failure to be better. Of Meili’s corpse in his arms. Of the taste of ash and the smell of fire, of the dozens of screams that now haunted his mind.

After all, his plan had succeeded, right? Emilia had killed the Sin-Archbishop of Pride. She was the last Royal Candidate. She had won the crown…Not. And so he remained alone with his crimes, with the costs and choices he had been willing to take. Choices that had been in vain, useless. Mere cruelty. Mere vanity. Mere arrogance. All he had done had afforded no ending, no deliverance. Empty sacrifices. Empty deaths. Useless actions. Useless Subaru. Useless journey that had changed nothing.

He fell into a troubled sleep, hands scratching at his arms in a routine older than his journey. His new spirits, noticing his trembling, huddled closer to him. Ara started to exude a soft light, its small warmth bringing some comfort to the Sin-Archbishop. Vela, on the other hand, shrouded him in darkness, protecting him from view.

…

The sound of birds’ chirping and the rustle of leaves awoke Subaru up. Blinking, he raised a hand to protect his eyes from the morning sun, somewhat high in the sky. He had overslept despite his very rough bedding. And rough it was, for his back was killing him. Stretching and repressing a groan, he clumsily raised to his feet. His gaze turned in the capital’s direction, drawn towards a magnet there.

Emilia should have recovered her insignia and be on the way towards…Roswaal’s manor. Subaru stopped all movements. Roswaal’s manor indeed. Next to Arlam village, place Meili would attack this very week. Place where one of the oni maids working under Emilia would die, breaking the other one. He shook his head and, putting his hands on his pockets, turned around and started to walk towards his new base.

Why should he care if one maid died? Had anyone cared about the poor people in the slums? The countless, powerless, useless bastards that could not get off the ground? Incapable of casting magic in any relevant capacity, ignorant of the world, moneyless idiots? Nobody had. It was also not necessary for his mission nor a priority. If anything it would cause him to lose quite a lot of time and…

Ara flew right by him, seemingly happy thanks to the nice day they were having. Subaru slowed down. Incapable of understanding his words not knowing his story, this little spirit had cared for Subaru. Even as he had never seen it for anything more than a tool, even when he had been willingly cruel, even when he had willingly walked the road of damnation. This spirit in front had given its life for that idiot. Without wanting a reward nor out of a higher reasoning. Just because…

Subaru shook his head and resumed walking. This was a new restart, a new reset. He could not mess up again. He…His mind was enclosed in iron walls, blocking that thought process. He was the Sin-Archbishop of Pride. A villain. The evil of the world. An entity that knew not how to do good. He must be that. It was the only way he knew…no, the only way he could accomplish his mission. He could never walk under the light, the path of a knight. He would be a shadow, a…

Ara flew by again in front of him, now emitting waves of worry as it understood not why Subaru had stopped and not been moving for a few minutes by now.

A groan rumbled in his throat before coming out as a roar. Aggressively scratching his head, he shook it so fast his cloak danced with it before stabbing the spirit with a finger. “Just this once!! Not again!! Never again!! You are not guilt-tripping me ever again!” 

Very confused, the lesser spirit moved up and down, a bit startled and regretful.

Uncaring for it Subaru flipped the conversation mirror Elsa had given him. Od be damned, back to the drawing room for his future plans. After five minutes the item finally showed him the image of the killer. “Time for that debt to be repaid. Both you and Meili will come to help me with a simple matter.”

“A bit sudden don’t you think, dear? What’s the rush to call…”

“Elsa.”

The Bowel Hunter blinked but, noticing his intense tone, her tone grew more restless. “Quick to anger, aren’t you, dear? Still, my word’s my bound for this time. Who do you need us to kill?”

“The Sin-Archbishop of Sloth.”

A long pause. “That’s…above my accrued debt?”

Subaru raised an eyebrow. “Are ten common cultists above it?”

Elsa snickered a bit, her smirk widening. “But you already showed your hand, we will need…”

“I will pay you too.”

“And now it smells even fishier…”

“...fine. I will add on to it killing Mother.”

Elsa blinked, her expression loosening the joy of before. “Now, now, why do you know that…”

“Ask for my name, Elsa.”

“...what are you?”

Subaru’s face finally broke away from his scowl. His smile, mad, he jokingly bowed at the tool. “Sin-Archbishop representing Pride, Natsuki Subaru. And I won’t allow any competition ruling the Witch Cult.”

“Now, now, joking about that is…” Elsa blinked, realising he was telling the truth and only the truth. “...I see.” After a few seconds her smile reappeared. “Prideful indeed. Tell me your plan.”

“You mean to say ‘tell us’. I will ask for Meili’s cooperation.”

“...currently she is on a work of her own, Sin-Archbishop, I don’t…”

“Then call for her. Snatch her away if it’s needed.”

Elsa frowned. “Now, now, we can’t rush to play our hand now, c…” Her voice died as Subaru’s eyes morphed. A cold, calculating gaze, valuing the risks and rewards of changing his approach. Of considering her an enemy. She shuddered under that unbreaking gaze. “That’s a good look, Sin-Archbishop. As a treat I will do as you said, if you take responsibility for the failed job, of course.”

A nod. “I will contact you again in ten hours for the meeting place.” Closing the conversation mirror, he waited for no confirmation. He knew she would obey. She always did. His cold and impersonal gaze moved to the road ahead. Now, Petelgeuse should be in transit towards the Royal capital with a sizable portion of the cult…

“Ara, Vela, change of plans. Let’s go and kill our first Sin-Archbishop.”

The two lesser spirits, still unable to understand his words, wobbled up and down, getting excited by his excited words.

……

Night fell on the small encampment of Witch Cultists. Lacking fires and only having the minimum of tents and rations, they waited in silence as their bodies rested. The Sin-Archbishop of Sloth, seated in the middle of the ground, was continuously rereading their gospel as they were unable to sit still. Their legs, shuffling and turning as their unblinking eyes traced and retraced the words in the quietness of their group. 

And the flickering of pages stopped. And all the heads raised to look directly into the forest. The full moon above, hidden behind dark clouds, shining its stolen radiance onto an approaching source of miasma. A step, a second, a third. All the cultists got off the floor and stood tall. Petelgeuse tilted their head ninety degrees and tried to perceive the newcomer. The spirit slowly raised to their feet, their eyes almost popping out of their sockets as the man in front made himself visible.

A deranged smile tainted by wavering moonlight, the Sin-Archbishop of Pride entered into the encampment followed by two lesser spirits. A dagger in his right, he moved towards Sloth before stopping next to a standing cultist. A determined and confident motion dispensed as if it was part of a script, his dagger sunk into one of Petelgeuse’s fingers. Their head pierced, they toppled down. As it fell Vela shrouded their body in a shamak while Subaru cleaned his dagger on the corpse, his free hand pocketing their gospel under the safety of Shamak. And no cultist reacted, all waiting for his words.

“I have been waiting for you, believer in love.” Uncaring for the new body, Petelgeuse extended their arms, their clothes fluttering madly with that gesture. Their smile grew too much as their words sped up, incapable of containing his excitement. “We have received your message but it would be slothful to skip my presentation.” The spirit bowed deeply. “I am a Sin-Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult representing Sloth, Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti! TES!!” 

Subaru bowed right back at them. “And I am a Sin-Archbishop of the Witch Cult too. Representing Pride, Natsuki Subaru.” Leaving that stance, his mad smile granted no information as he casually advanced towards Sloth. “I finally have been returned to the world at large, Pete-san.” The wave of nostalgia unable to change anything, he opened his arms as if welcoming an old friend. “Tell me, how has this beautiful night treated you?

“Wonderful, wonderful, simply marvelous!!” The mad spirit twirled around under the unchanging faces of dozens of cultists around them, both of them closing the gap between them two. “It’s been a joyous night for it has allowed me to meet up with you, beloved child blessed with love!!” Their eyes suddenly stopped, staring into the madman in front. “Now, not that I doubt your diligence, the one who is Pride, but you have received the gospel, yes?!”

Subaru nodded and pulled the gospel that he had just stolen from the cultist behind. Both him and Petelgeuse turned to it, the perfect gap for a knife throw with devilish speed from between the trees to hit the spirit in the side of the head, stabbing into their neck. Toppling down, their wide-eyed stare went to Pride. His mad smile was gone, as if it had never existed. His eyes, a pit of cold, simply watched as they bleed out. The cultists all around, unwilling to intervene.

“You…wh-why…believer in love? We…are…Sin-Archbishops?”

Looking down at him, Subaru sighed. “Surprisingly, it got easier to do this second time around, Pete-san.”

“What…are you saying?” Blood slipping from their lips, the spirit struggled to force the dying body to obey.

“Still slow, huh. I’m talking about the trial and error it took me to get here…” Pride crouched in front of Sloth. “Around fifty tries this time around. Seriously, finding this camp was an enormous pain.” A deeper sigh, this one relieved. “I am glad I can call off this search.” His gaze, still cold, still robotic, still alien, never changed. “I will say that this was a trip down memory lane, or so they say. Can’t also deny that I did enjoy talking again with you, Pete-san. You were a bit kinder this time around too, so it is truly a shame you will be targeting Emilia.”

“Wh-who? What are you saying, what are you saying, what are you…”

“Nevermind that, friend. Slip of the tongue.” Subaru stood up and moved his foot on top of Petelgeuse’s neck.

“Be-betrayer!! Traitor who spurns the Witch’s love!! You won’t b-” Their speech was cut short when Subaru stepped on the embedded dagger, severing the rest of their neck and cutting their head off.

Subaru shook his head as the spirit, refusing to die before accomplishing what they wanted, threw themselves against Pride, trying to possess him despite not meeting the requirements. And so their soul was pushed away, unable to grip into this vessel as they would on a finger. Nonetheless, they had their fingers, they could…The howl of mabeasts around was the answer to that hope. To that certainty the spirit had been coddled by for so long. They no longer had any second chances and they had only noticed after spending their only one.

“These have been an exhausting four days.” Twirling the dagger he had stolen, he stabbed the severed head below. Giving neither the corpse nor the shattering spirit any more attention, he pulled the blade free and surveyed the spectators.

“Now…will you follow Pride instead of Sloth?”

All of them bowed. Their loyalty, after all, was not bound to a person but to the Cult itself. To the Witch. And so they would follow those closest to her. And, as it turns out, the most beloved by the Witch of Envy was Pride. So their brains could but tremble in anticipation, for their goal was finally in view.

Subaru turned around, cloak billowing behind and lesser spirits floating around. “Then follow me, siblings. For we are one week behind schedule.”

Elsa, appearing as if the shadows on the tree closest to him had been her all along, closed in. “It was surprisingly easy, Sin-Archbishop.”

At that Subaru snickered humourlessly. “I take that it was how this appeared to be, huh…”

Elsa’s smile faltered half a second. “Was it not?”

Subaru waved those words away while his steps never stopped. The cultists behind, raising their tents and getting ready to reverse their march with no grievances at all. “Of course it was not. I have already done it once. The timing was the tricky part. Really, I should have asked for a gospel before starting this quest.” With no fear nor care Subaru handed her her knife back.

Elsa’s gaze moved to it before flickering to the cultists behind. “Now, about that payment you promised…”

“It will have to wait till I reach my base of operations, Elsa.” Hands on his pockets, he confidently revealed the lack of the extras he had promised.

“...I have killed for lesser breaches of contracts, Sin-Archbishop.”

“I invite you to try.” Just as he said those words both him and Elsa rushed to move. Her recovered dagger, blocked by the stolen one. His gaze, bored, unsurprised. Hers, growing more and more expectant, excited. “See? The tricky part is the timing.”

“Wonderful…” Her smile widened a bit and she retreated her hand, still poisoned to attack. “I will keep trying then if you do not mind, Pride.”

“If that is what you ask for a reward.” Subaru shrugged. “But I would rather not waste time getting your timing right so, please, kindly accept the reward that is waiting for you at Mount Condor.”

Her dagger entered its sheath. “Will I be able to get more of these…opportunities, Pride?”

A very deep sigh. The two spirits around him, puffing and shining/darkening in anger at her for having dared to attack their contractor. Ara’s small fire lit up the road, lacking the power to do a little bit more. Meanwhile, Vela simply shrouded itself in darkness, its mana very lacking. Both, however, made Subaru chuckle a bit and wave at them to calm them down. “You know what, why not? How could the greatest villain of the world not have some backstabbers as minions just for the fun of it?”

Elsa blinked at that. “Sin-Archbishop?”

Subaru twirled around. His smile, bright, honest, filled with expectation. Completely mad. “Watch me, Elsa-tan. Watch me prove my words right to you! Watch and witness the journey of the Sin-Archbishop of Pride!” The wind moved his cloak and cleared the clouds that were darkening the moon. “The greatest vi…no, the first and only Super-Villain of Lugunica!”

Her smile widened at that. “Ah…bound by an impossible promise. And I can’t believe I feel like you will prove yourself right but you will. And it is so, very lovely.”

Subaru cackled at that. “Isn’t it?! My life’s meaning, my only journey, my own battle under the watchful gaze of Destiny itself!”

The sound of leaves cut him off as Meili, sitting on top of a wolgarm, was still pouting. “So glad to see big brother and sister having such a goooood time.” Crossed arms, she was glaring daggers at them, causing the mabeast to growl at Pride.

Subaru chuckled at her sight, the ghost of her corpse sometimes still overlaying on top of her. “Still mad with me having forced you to abandon your job?”

“Just so you know, I had almost a perfect score before you, big brother! And you ruined it all!!” Her pout grew together with her frown. The ten wolgarms behind, growing more and more restless. It was now looking like a bad ending, it seemed. He was glad to have slowly worked that sixth sense to notice them.

Subaru sighed and shook his head. His hand brought something from his pocket. A very small and not that well made plushy of Peltegeuse. “My bad, Meili. I am very regretful over messing up your reputation so accept my heartfelt apology and this gift.”

Her eyes widened and she jumped of the mabeast, rage forgotten. “You can sew?!”

Throwing her the plushy, Subaru nodded with a small smirk. “Work well and I will fill a room of your choosing with them.”

“Yay!!” Meili jumped with the plushy, thinking of what to name it. The mabeasts behind, however, glaring at the Sin-Archbishop tainted in the stench they so hated and despised. But, unable to disobey the child assassin, they relented. Their small and low growls, a constant companion as the new Sin-Archbishop led the way.

…

“Ah, finally, for one time my luck has been somewhat nice.” Subaru surveyed the burning bandit outpost. Around him, a symphony of grunts, begging and pained cries. The chorus, the growls of mabeasts, the silent work of cultists and the crunching of bone and the tearing of flesh. Its soloist, a flying lesser spirit that shone its light on the carnage below a waning moon.

His steps crushed embers, clothes and the sticks used to support the tents that they were ransacking, searching for valuables and objects of interest. “It will be a great source of reputation for Meili, Mabeast Tamer and her company of earth mages, will it not?” His gaze ignored a dying bandit next to him, arm half eaten and bleeding out. Their glossy eyes, missed by the Sin-Archbishop. Their death, unpitied.

“I am surprised you did not carry them back to the city, big brother.” Meili, her steps with a happy spring, retorted next to him. “Wouldn’t that have been better?”

Subaru shrugged. “I refuse to do useless work. Bandits get hung and I refuse to spend the energy to bring three dozen living corpses to the city. My heart is big but not that big, Meili.”

“I see…” Shrugging herself, she quickly kicked them out of her mind. “So, big brother, what is the plan?”

He fell silent until they reached the edge of the outpost. Ignoring burning and half eaten corpses, he edged the cliff. Standing so close to death that rocks fell down, he gazed from that advantage point at both the city in the far distance and Mount Condor. Eyes reflecting a fiery light thanks to Ara that got close to him, he could but smile at his new territory. At his new opportunity. “Do you know the difference between soft and hard power?

“...huh?”

“Soft power means influencing the world through monetary or cultural means.” The screams behind lessened as the cultists and mabeasts finished their job. “Where am I going with this, you ask? Well, Meili, we will make ourselves such good parasites that they will never see us as a danger. We will become the main economic heart of this city and siphon from it all that we may need for our own purposes.”

Meili blinked. “And after that’s done, big brother?”

“We move to the next mountain and the next city.” The noise finally died and was reduced to chewing and pillaging. “And we do so until we are Lugunica itself.”

The child shrunk a bit in thought, trying to imagine that.

“Once that’s done…It will be our war of deliverance. Of course, we won’t do it all at the same time.” His smile chilled down a bit, his eyes a mirror to the calculations that were running behind them. “We have a month and a half to parasitize this city so deeply that it will turn into our greatest friend. We will have to balance those efforts with building the Orion Black Fortress but we will manage.”

“Um…big brother, I don’t want to discourage you but…” Meili gazed backwards. Not even a hundred cultists were with them.

“More will come, Meili.” His voice was pure confidence. It would be seen if it was mere delusion or plain fact but, for now, the plan was readied.

Meili shrugged. It was not her job to make plans and so, somewhat bored, returned to Elsa. Meanwhile Pride kept watching from atop the cliff, eyes cold and determined. Ara and Vela, at his right and left.

………..

Chapter Text

Subaru’s steps echoed inside the belly of the mountain. Moving though caverns and badly ventilated tunnels, two thirds of his cultists followed him, the air mages ventilating the insides of the sandworm-made labyrinth. The rest of the cultists rushed inside to start the cleaning of debris while the earth mages started to remodel the place, already carving traps and dead ends. Subaru sighed, mind already digging through all the work he had to do, and snapped his fingers. 

And so one of the only five earth mages in their group followed Subaru as he dived deeper into the cave. Reaching its centre, they arrived at the old nest of the sandworm. A titanic cavern filled with enormous stalagmites and stalactites that turned the emptiness into a mouth ready to devour whatever incautious fool dared to intrude this far into utter darkness. And yet Pride advanced till the room ended. Once there he snapped his fingers again.

The cultist’s gospel updated and they casted their magic, carving an obsidian throne out of the wall. Filled with spikes and as rigid as the best obsidian could be, it grew bigger and larger than the one in Vollachia even. What’s more, seven spears grew from its back, one of them with the star Betelgeuse stabbed into it. Turning around, cape flickering, Pride sat in his cold, empty and dark throne room. The cultist bowed and scuttered to their own duties.

And so Pride rested his head on his hand and finally asked the real question. What made a Super-Villain super? He had spent the journey here meditating about it to no avail. His two spirits fluttered around him and so his hands went to them, patting them. They ended up laying on the armrests of the throne as Subaru rested his back against the cold and hard stone.

Of course a villain needed a base of operations. They also needed a name, a destiny, an idea, an ideology, a desire and a pathway that was being walked towards all of that. But what made it super? Nothing of that differentiated normal villains from super villains. His patting slowed but neither spirit minded. What would make him super? Being a blight in the land? A portent of destruction? A Purge King? He scoffed. Killing was easy, very easy. Everyone could, even children. That was no special point, no new theme, nothing that would set him apart from the rest of the Sin-Archbishops.

He shuffled, his right fastening its patting and Ara, happy, sending a wave of warmth. So…Right, he could switch up the scheme! What would be more scary, more terrifying, than an Sin-Archbishop that allowed no deaths even in combat?! To prevent all wounds and casualities…otherwordly, alien, uncanny. And ignorance begets fear! That would make him different. And difference was always pointed out. But…does mere fright, mere overpowering skill make it super? Does being special, different, mean to be Super?

Speaking about skill, what archetype did he want to become? He had no real combat capacity, after all. He was capable only of low tier magic and of facing at most armed soldiers, nothing more. Vela stirred a bit, slowly getting unruly thanks to the unequal patting and so Subaru focused on it a bit…Vela, huh. Yeah, he would have a lot of underlings, wouldn’t he? So a super-villain of the mastermind type he would become. An Eminence in Shadow. Subaru smirked in the darkest room in the mountain. And Return by Death offered him the best way to accomplish this feat. 

What would be a cool name? Kronos? Thoth?...Zurvan…Yes, Zurvan. That would be his codename. He would command everyone from behind whenever possible…The air inside the throne room cooled down as Subaru tensed up. How could he have even forgotten?! His growing and badly contained energy was so much that the spirits under his hands tensed up too. The thing that made a Super-Villain was the presentation!! He started to snicker. And he needed to make his bombastic! A welcoming cry to the world. One that roared, Pride is back.

He relaxed a bit and both spirits calmed down slightly. Now that that was done and decided, his eyes lowered to his hands. Next on the chopping block to decide on was his base, the Black Fortress of Orion. For now the cult was working on basic and normal defenses. Traps, misdirection, confusing layout. But that was not what a Black Fortress should be. I should be a baluart of strength, a testament to his arrogance. Unbreakable walls, untraversable moats, uncountable and unassailable garrison.

And it should be a beating heart for the Witch Cult. A city, a manufactory hub, a recruiting centre, its breadbasket. His Authority made manifest. Far away from him, multiple gospels rewrote themselves and Subaru was soon delivered a lamp, paper and quills and bottles of ink. Grabbing them, Subaru got to work.

First should be the deep underground. Magic tools and earth magic should grant them the opportunity to make farmland for edible fungi. And for that they would need an irrigation system from the nearby river together with silos and dry places to hold the food. Maybe they would even be able to herd some wild animals inside and grow their own meat. And so Pride started to draw that design.

Next were the living quarters, just above that farmland to make the disposal of sewage be able to be directly fed into the crops. He would love to hold ten thousand souls but they lacked the numbers and most would not flock to him until all the Sin-Archbishops were deposed. For now a thousand housing would do. 

Next were the working stations. The crafting areas, the sewing and the roaring and flaming forges he desired. No Black Fortress was without its smoke, after all. The forges would be moved to the tip of the mountain to make the smoke easier to dispose of while the cooking areas and clothing industry would be around or on top of the housing. For now, only these later would be of any real importance and so he finished those second as he could not stop his excitement over arming the cult with real weaponry. A dark army armoured in plate armour riding an horde of earth dragons…

He shook his head to dispel that mouth-watering illusion, or prophecy, of danger, of serious danger to the kingdom. And that should be it for now, for trying to build everything at the same time would end up with nothing being finished nor in working condition. The defenses would come last as, should they stop remaining undetected, Re-Adelheid would come and doom them all the same, be them a hundred, a thousand or ten thousand men armed to the teeth and hidden behind whatever walls they could come up with.

But there was a detail he could not really leave behind. His throne room. It must be a Boss Room, as dark, mystique and terror-inducing as he could make it. Filled with plays of shadows, braziers of fires of different colours and titanic columns that had carved in them long lost runes and languages. His own throne must be three times larger and it should be franked by the statues of his two spirits and…

He kicked the base of his throne. Sighing, he shook his head again. He was getting carried away again. “What do you think, Ara and Vela? What should come first for the incoming nemesis of Lugunica, practicality or appearance?” The spirits answered not, too comfortable in their positions and still unable to understand him. “Yeah, yeah, practicality.” He sighed. He should kick away the mentality of having infinite manpower. He had not taken full control over the Witch Cult yet, after all.

Still, there were some things he needed to get started on now. And so five gospels were written into and their five cultists kneeled in front of the throne. “One and Two, start moving towards Priestella. I want to notify the Sin-Archbishop of Lust of my arrival. Three, Four and Five, go investigate the city and merchants to learn where there is a stock of firestones.”

They bowed and went away with the quickness that they had used to arrive. Names, huh, that was another problem he had faced last round and he had never properly addressed. There were only ten names of worth in the Cult. The Sin-Archbishops, Pandora and Satella. And that made organising and directing them an enormous pain in the arse. Sighing, he grabbed another empty page and wetted the quill in more ink.

He needed to subdivide the cult into different operations. His builders and earth mages should be organised into a proper group with subdivisions…He would use the Templar one, a grandmaster at the peak and going down in ranks of organisation by seneschal, marshal, commanders of lands and commanders of knights. He would tweak the names a bit but it should suffice. 

Now, the most important and difficult part of all. Naming the groups. World Builders? Yes, it would fit well. Next would be his forces of bards and travelers, in charge of disinformation and benign gathering of intel and news…He was empty. Stealing it would be. Word Bearers would fit nicely, for they would carry Pride’s word. Now, the ones in charge of rough information gathering should be the Pride’s Wolves. The infiltrators, the Night Stalkers. 

And so Subaru kept working on, hour after hour, filling the white of the papyrus and papers at his feet in black. The different coats of arms would be a pain to create…

“Hey, Cappi, you see…” His voice echoed inside the empty throne room. “No, no, too bright and familiar.” He coughed. “Hey, Cappi, greetings…Argh!!” And so Pride kept practising what he would say to Lust as he wrote his plans and designs. Thankfully, his checkpoint was on his throne and so he had quite a lot of time to dedicate to it.

…

Meili, followed by a small group of air mages, four earth magicians and cultists, all dressed in casual clothes, rode one of her wolgarms as they got closer to the city. Already the guards on the puny and small wall were rallying themselves in case this was an attempt of infiltration or raiding. Meili sighed, now debating if to turn tail or follow Subaru’s orders. Her gaze flickering around to the fifth of a cohort, almost a hundred cultists bound to Pride. She looked back ahead, to them, around forty men at arms.

She kept moving ahead and so they rapidly encroached into the range of their crossbows. “Halt! State the purpose of your visit!”

“We are the Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks.” Bellowed the cultists right next to Meili, Eight. “We came to offer our services as earth mages to help with the damages that the group of bandits may have done to the city.”

The guards turned to each other for a few seconds. “Are you lot armed?”

“Nothing but the mabeasts under the control of Lady Meili.”

The child nodded and puffed out her chest. Pride’s order to disarm them, mighty reckless. Well, if worst came to be, she would be faster than everyone here. “...and I am the son of Lord Roswaal. Now, we are not letting a hundred men just stroll inside without proper permits. All the less when that child is riding a piss-smeeling mabeast!”

The wolgarm growled but was allowed no more aggression than that. Eight sighed and entered their hand into the bloodied bag they had carried here. Pulling out the head of the bandits’ leader, they raised it high to try and let them see it. “This is our proper permit. Now, will you keep crying like a child on that wall or will you open the gate already?”

A long pause and the guards whispered at each other. “Well, well, if you did not have weapons how come you managed to wipe them out, huh? We are not as short of wits as you lot. With who are you? The Margrave? The outsider? The Duke? We want none of that. Turn tail and return with a damned permit or sleep outside for all we care.”

Eight grunted, their mask of life perfect. “Yeah, yeah, how about you buy some bravery and say that to our faces and on the same level, you knave?!” Half a dozen cultists joined in with their fake indignation, uttering their own insults and expletives. “But we were telling the truth! It was Meili, the Mabeast Tamer, that felled these grunts outside of law and goodwill!”

More whispering and the commander showed up. A few barked commands and the walls were readied yet the commander, still unarmed, hailed from between the battlements. “I see. We have confirmed your words but, before you enter, what was your take in visiting this city.” Their gaze moved to the dozens of animal carcasses they were carrying. “Are you merchants?”

Meili shook her head. “We are an organisation inspired by the Royal Candidate, Lady Emilia. We travel around the world trying to better it and help as many people as possible, in the same way she would have done.”

“...you are part of her faction, that is…”

“We are not.” Eight interjected with unexpected fervor. “We are merely inspired by her and wishing to become her future subjects, but she knows not of us nor is she affiliated. We merely act in her image.”

The commander scratched their head. “Can’t say I get you lot but I see. You are unaffiliated with any higher faction then? You lack a leader?”

“Our current leader is Lady Meili.” Eight backed a step and let Meili puff out her chest, the mabeast below howling to the afternoon sky.

A runner reached the commander and whispered a continuum of words. A very long pause. “Alright, you lot may pass. The governor wants to talk to you. No funny business…” Their gaze went to the mabeast. “That eats anyone and we are putting you all in a pyke.”

“We would not dream of that, commander.” Eight reassured them. ‘We would not dream that at all.’ Their face, immune to changes. Pride had ordered and they would follow to the letter. And so Eight placed themselves behind Meilie, who led them forward. Crossing the gates was enough to see Pride’s words as true.

Having entered by the western gate, they found themselves right off the bat in the lower classes area. The slums. Houses, more like huts of whatever they could have been built off, were the sight that surrounded them all. Impoverished and famished people went about their day, all of them trying to survive and scavenge enough coins and materials to survive the winter. And so their small team ignored their escort of men at arms and stopped.

The fire and water mages started to ready cauldrons of food and so the Witch Cult started to set a literal market that was more of a celebration than anything else. Giving out clothes they had pillaged from the bandits, they readied a feast and dozens of tents for basic first aid for whoever needed it. Of course, such a sudden development tensed the men at arms that were escorting them but a few barrels of ale were opened and that animosity flew right outside the gate.

After all, who in their right mind would start an impromptu celebration if their intentions were nefarious, going as far as to themselves partake of the food and drinks? Orders forgotten and more and more commoners tickling in, the Witch Cult infiltration cell soon found itself surrounded by the festivities and good will of a small part of the city’s populace. Of course this small and tiny gesture was just an ice breaker. It would afford them nothing but some good fame in the city. And, for now, that was enough.

And, after two hours of the celebration, now in full swing, Eight backed away and rested their back into the wall behind. Their gaze moved towards Meili, showing off the wolgarm to a group of foolishly brave children. They were thankful that they had been given the full command instead of…that freelancer. Witch Cult affairs belong to themselves only. Next it jumped to the people all around. Some would make fine cultists but needed a little push. For now, not attainable.

Lastly, its gaze moved all around the slums, noticing if and what buildings needed to be repaired or rebuilt. A great expenditure of mana with no practical nor direct benefit. Yet Pride ordered and so they would build housing for the poor in that woman’s name, whoever it was. Nonetheless, they could only wonder for the why. No other Sin-Archbishop had tried to walk this path nor anyone had been advised by the gospel to do this, so…

The commander of before approached Eight. Joining them with their back against their gaze, the commander’s eyes moved to the party in front. “Can’t see I understand giving away your supplies.”

“To give food to the hungry is what Lady Emilia would have done.” Their eyes, again on their mask of life, trailed the commander for two seconds too long before moving back to the campfires and cauldrons. The fake desire in their gaze didn’t go undetected but they uttered nothing about it.

The commander scratched their head. “Huh, now, does that woman also shit gold or something? Can’t give away what you need to live.”

“But we can share it. The forests are plentiful, the rivers are full and the farms are toiled hard to produce food for all of us…” The cultist’s eyes gained a bit of haze. “...that it reaches is another thing that we both know why it happens.”

The commander shuffled. “Nah, I don’t think I know. Speaking about knowing, you really should go meet up with the governor, we were ord…”

“A fellow friend of ours has gone in our stead. We are golden, as they say.” Eight winked at the commander. “Now, sister of arms, mind a bit of ale.”

“...” The commander shrugged. “A bit too soon for us to call each other sisters but fine, have accepted worse for a drink.”

And so Eight and the commander returned to the festivities. Tonight, they drank, gathered intel, caused breaches and made connections. Tomorrow and the weeks thereafter, they would work their sweat and tears off rebuilding the slums and helping the farms around the city. No joy nor whimsy was obtained by their cultists, too lost in their gospels to be part of the normal world. No pleasure was found in their actions, only duty and drive.

The people around, however, did partake of a nice day of reprieve.

……

The governor stilled their breathing as they shuffled a tiny bit, seated in their silk chair. Back cold and wet, their unblinking gaze was on the woman dressed in black that was twirling around a knife. The window of the fifth floor, cut open by it. “Now, now, I expected the governor to be a bit braver…”

The woman’s steps echoed too loudly inside the room as she stalked around the man. Her knight, making a symphony of its carving of the walls, furniture and mirrors around. And closer and closer she got. The governor, starting to tremble and face pure white, looked down at her hands, too fearful to even scream for help. The sound of a conversation mirror made them almost jump out of her chair.

“Please, Lady Minerva, pick it up.”

Her gaze flickered between the two and, after a few seconds, opened the conversation mirror. The image that welcomed her was a black throne shrouded in darkness. On it, a figure with two orbiting spirits, one of fire and one of yin, with their face hidden in the shadows. And a woman’s voice came out of it. “A pleasure to see you, Minerva.” 

A chill ran down her back and she lowered her gaze. “Are…are you with Mother?”

A sigh. “If I was with her, would I know about your fourth manor?” The governeress blinked. “Really, you can only steal so much taxes and Witch Cult’s funds before you are found out, miss. And, please, at least reduce your excesses a bit. Some of my men got a bit sick, even.” A laugh ended that sentence. Easy-going and happy, as if they had made a good joke that only they understood.

Frozen still, the governeress opened her mouth yet no sound came.

“I am grateful to not be made to listen to idiotic excuses, weak reasonings and outright lies.” Their tone lost all of its previous levity. “See, I know everything. Every law, every crime, every wound and death you have ever caused. And I expect us to be able to reach some…agreeable concessions, if you will.” The shadows smiled and both spirits fluttered a bit, showing the black clothes of the figure behind the mirror. “I will take over all of your…unsavory aspects of governance such as bandits, criminal gangs, and I will give you a tenth…an eighth of all of my winnings. In exchange, I won’t sell you to the kingdom, yes?”

“You…you dare threaten me?!” The governoress’ voice gained a bit of power. She quickly deflated as a knife was put on her neck from behind her.

“Yes, yes I dare to.” The shadows smirked. They were in complete control over the situation. “What will you do about it, Lady Minerva?”

Unable to do anything about it, she lowered her head and accepted. Not like she had any choice. She would need to contact Mother and fight her way through their forces.

The figure clapped once. “Excellent. Elsa-tan, get on with it. Oh, and I am in a good mood so only take two. They were already thinking of betraying us, after all.”

Flashing a predatory smile, Elsa bowed at the conversation mirror and recovered it. A glint of metal and two fingers of the governor flew through the air. Screaming in pain and surprise, Minerva bent over as she grasped at her injured hand. Elsa simply walked off the window and climbed down the manor before her guards rammed into the room.

Back on ground level, Elsa broke into a comfortable jog. It was a great night. The chimneys were blowing out smoke, the birds were asleep, and she was going to remind some people that criminals and horrible people could never rest. Smirking, she twirled her weapons again. A shame they were low grunts and peasants, but if she did a good job she would be able to try to kill Pride. And she was dying for the latter.

Oh, less thinking. The first target was in full view. Her smile widened. She had no idea how Pride had learned all of their locations, their numbers and organization but she would not complain. It made the job mightily easy, after all.

…

A bleeding out thug was kicked through the door. Another three rushed to meet the intruder only to be disarmed, one literally. Elsa strolled in and threw the conversation mirror to the feet of the small time bandit with only fifteen…her gaze flickered to the disarmed man. Maybe fourteen thugs under their orders. She shrugged. She did not understand the need to fully grasp all of the tiny bands but her job was not to understand, only to follow and be paid.

“I…”

“Can you shut up and listen? I have talked non-stop through the entire night and I am done.” The calm and collected persona of before, gone. The woman’s words were charged with ire and exhaustion. “You obey me now.”

Gulping, the small time thug bowed. 

……

Subaru walked through the dimly lit tunnels and passages of the Black Fortress of Orion. A month had been enough to transform the wobbly insides of the mountain, ingraining order and purpose to every tunnel and turn. His steps echoed on the stone floors that were yet to be furnished. The housing and farms were up and running yet he wanted to tour the Fortress after these months of looping and so he did. Starting from bot to top, he took almost half an hour walking and climbing down stairs to reach it. 

Stepping on wet mud, his gaze quickly got lost in the sight that got lost in the horizon, filled with fungi and mushrooms of varying sizes and. Protecting the fields from falling stones, towering stalagmites had been repurposed as pillars to maintain the stability of the large caverns below. The smell of manure, the sound of flowing water and working cultists surrounded him even if he had not left the stairs, unwilling to further dirty his boots.

Turning around, his cloak fluttered right behind together with Ara and Vela. They would have ample food. Horrid, tasteless, but food all the same. And the cultists looked unready to offer criticism so he quickly forgot the bad taste. They would suffice to keep them alive and that was enough. 

Climbing up to the rooms, he moved across rows and rows of bedrooms. Eight by six by two and a half metres, the cubicles had all the furniture integrated into themselves and made of different types of stones for some variety. Bed, changers, tables and nightstands next to dressers together with pots with diverse plants. That last part had taken two entire days for no singular cultists had any response other than ‘Whatever plant you prefer.” On that point, he had had to decorate the bedrooms in chunks, because that mindset applied to every decoration!!

Subaru sighed again. Thankfully the looping had given him time to think and see what colour palettes fit the Black Fortress. And while blacks and darks were cool, they quickly got tired and gave too much darkness. In the end, he had decided to give the living aura a cozy feeling. Wood floors and the like would have to wait but for now it could house the six hundred cultists with ample space and vacancies for double that number.

His steps carried him to the craftsmen area. Rows and rows of caverns transmuted into industrial zones where food was prepared, minerals and ore extracted and processed and the cloth they imported morphed into the cultists’ wear and normal clothing for masking. While the six hundred men town under his orders paled in comparison to the seventy five thousand souls city that they were profiting off, it was a good enough start. Once he made his presentation in the royal capital their numbers would swell.

And so he went up another level, finding a recreation room instead of the throne that he had planned for… Had this been necessary? Mandatory? Something that he had not made half way through because he was getting too bored of sitting on his throne and coordinating the cult? No, no, yes. But it had been made all the same and, honestly, he regretted it a bit as he was the only one who knew, or even utilised, the games he had carved into it. The cultists, once their mandatory rest came, just stood around the room, staring at each other. Maybe not a bit but a lot.

Shrugging, Subaru moved up to his throne room, still not finished. While behemoths in the shape of pillars with countless carvings and drawings were visible, and the throne had become a gorgeous work of art, it was lowest in the priority list. And so, after almost five hours of walking, his tour had ended as there were no more levels to go up. He could maybe go see the defenses but, honestly, his feet were killing him and so he dropped on his throne.

In front, as if having been waiting for that, One, Three, Four and Five were kneeling in front of it. A wave and a stern glare and One raised their head. Subaru frowned a bit, a tiny grimace appearing on his face. Half of their face was gone. Literally. Their left eye, ear, half of their nose and mouth were not there. It was just skin, as if they had been born without it. ‘I hate working with Lust.’ “What did the Sin-Archbishop of Lust say?”

The cultist hissed, incapable of speaking.

Subaru shuffled on his seat, his eyes flickered to the place Second had been, now missing. “...can you write?”

They raised his hands. The fingers had been glued together and all manner of separation was gone. Not even seams now wrinkles were left. Their hands were now a flat extremity incapable of moving at all. Subaru’s grimace disappeared and only an angered scowl remained. “...I see. Does it hurt?”

A long pause. One shakily nodded.

Subaru closed his eyes. “...did Lust say anyth…”

Third’s right hand went to the left pocket of One and pulled out a conversation mirror that they had not had before. Subaru’s fingers tapped on the right armrest of his throne. Yes, he was done already with damned Lust. Ara and Vela puffed out, resonating with his killer intent. “So be it. One, what do you want to do?”

They kneeled again and lowered their head to show their neck, slightly trembling out of pain.

“I see.” Getting out of his throne, Subaru unsheathed his stolen dagger and executed the cultist. The body dropped to the ground, the thump which it hit the ground, an echo of relief from indescriptible pain. The other three cultists bowed deeper. Pride cleaned the dagger in his own clothes. “Three, Fourth, bury them. Five, report.” And so Subaru returned to his throne. Nothing to do about them as his checkpoint had been sent after he had sent them. His hands clenched still, being reminded of the casual cruelty of a Sin-Archbishop he so despised. A change of plans could be in the card…Not. Lust could only come later. He needed the White Rabbit for her. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, calming himself down.

“We have found what you sent us to find, Sin-Archbishop.” The last one that remained, Five kept his kneeling position. “If you allocate two hundred of ourselves we will manage to subtract all that you require for our operation in the capital.”

Subaru’s expression changed again. Too fast and too happy, his bright smile was illuminated by Ara’s still enraged light. “I see! Then send the Wolves together with the Dragonguard in case a bit of earth dragon cavalry is necessary. The Sharp Legion will remain here as sharpshooters.”

A nod and Five rushed to get the raiding party ready. And so Subaru reclined on his throne. A curious thing those gospels were. They should only be sending rough and vague instructions. Pride’s cultists’, however, were quite elusive and verbose but to the point, going to the extent of sending his own blueprints to the earth mages without him doing anything. And his looping also influenced them it seemed. Plans and information he learnt would appear when in the past loops it had gone unknown.

Was that outsider influence or simple competence? Petelgeuse’s faction had also operated with a great efficiency when compared with leaderless cultists or under the rest of the sins. Subaru smirked as he tapped again on the armrest. And so, after four minutes and twenty seconds a cultist appeared with a glass of water for their leader. Yes, this would help him greatly. He was starting to regret not having taken the Witch Cult seriously last time around.

But this was enough stalling. Opening the conversation mirror, Subaru put on his best smile, examining the reflection in front. It took less than a minute for the call to be picked up and so the Sin-Archbishop of Lust came into view.

“Heya, Cappi. How have you been? Have you heard about me already from our fellow believers in love?” His smile and gaze, perfectly happy if evidently deranged.

Capella kept staring at him, saying nothing.

“Well, I’m glad to hear. You know, I’m a great fan of your work and so I wanted to replicate that mother modus operandi of yours so I wanted to ask you, what criminal organizations I am not allowed to break? I would hate to put us at odds and I am sure the underground has enough space for us two, whatcha say, Cappi?” Subaru tilted his head a tiny bit, welcoming smile still intact.

“Have you finally ceased your endless ranting, slab of rotten meat? Od below, I was starting to think you just wanted to abuse me with the sight of the inside of your mouth, meat creature.” Her expression lacking any emotion apart from boredom, Capella tilted her head. “Now, if you would do me the favour of cutting that ridiculous theatre of yours for it is unbearably disgusting. Act as your position as rotten meat should and stop deluding yourself into thinking that you are smart by feigning it.” She spat at the ground. “Disgusting, there’s not another word for your idiotic play, Sin-Archbishop of Pride.”

“Yesh, Cappi, extra rough this round, huh?” Despite his bubbly and light tone, Subaru’s face had morphed into an emotionless visage. Two cold eyes stabbed into Capella, trying to reflect how much he truly hated her. “If I didn’t know better I would believe you hated me. So, is that a, ‘Do as you want, dear?’

“The second tiniest thing in your body must have liquified into stale water that is merely collecting dust and disease inside that useless head of yours, Pride. You steal two of my daughters, blow up my operations in Cramlin and just parade your naked tongue in front of me trying to…what, get punished by this lady? Does your masochism stop you from even thinking for half a second, Pride?” She arched an eyebrow at his lack of surprise at her declaration. “What, too baffled to even speak after I reveal that all of your movements have been seen through by your intellectual superior? At least divert your heated gaze for you do not deserve to even look at me, failure of a man.”

Subaru’s cold gaze stood unbreaking and unmoving. “You are still not answering Cappi and I really have to manage my own section of the cult. Could we speed this up? I just want us to not but heads continuously in the underground. Come on, I am sure we can get some sort of arrangement, yes? We could even become friends, y’know?”

“Can we? Because this benevolent lady only sees a beast that is trying to get on my bad side by underperforming everywhere.”

“Well, say your price.”

“Priestella is mine, meat bag. As it is all of their surroundings and the nobles bound to Mother. Touch a second one and I am turning you into a bag that will get gifted to a wolgarm so that it may shit inside it for its entire lifetime.”

A nod. “Anything more, Cappi?”

Capella’s gaze flickered to the gospel. Saying nothing she closed the conversation mirror. At that Subaru smiled away, relieved of not seeing that shitty face again. Still he sighed, exhausted. “Ara, would you mind burning a face for me?”

Ara, happy to be called, flew up and down, happy to try to help with whatever Subaru was saying.

“Atta-spirit.”

Feeling the compliment and becoming envious, Vela replicated Ara’s movements, being gifted a head pat by Subaru thanks to its efforts. Stretching, Subaru’s gaze went to the end of the throne room. One more month and they would be ready. One more month and he would see Emilia again. One more month and the journey would start again. Truthfully, he could not wait any longer.

…

Eight buttoned up their shirt as they left the commander’s home. Waving at another man at arms, they trotted down the city, eyes trailing the new buildings that occupy a third of the old slum. Their continuous reinforcements had greatly helped their efforts and, while suspicious, both city, governor and guard were happy to look the other way as long as the benefits kept coming in.

And Od below they were coming in. Each day more merchants and, of higher importance, more craftsmen travelled to this very city that was receiving a surge of cheap ore from the governor’s knows where. The Black Fortress may not be able to afford forges but the city could and would. And they would sell mainly to the Witch Cult without realising, as they were trading the ore for the items themselves.

Eight’s tiny smile was evident as they walked through the city, surveying what needed to be done. Finally, finally, finally the witch cult was moving somewhere. Readying for a true conflict, a true war. And Pride would deliver as the gospel would never lie. Their tiny smile turned normal as they watched a new stable filled with earth dragon eggs, the stores with clothes, the bounty that was theirs to use and utilise in the Witch’s name.

Eight could not have cared less for having eliminated homeless or being feeding the poor of the city, their mushrooms and fungi already turning into a local speciality. They were not even seeing the happier children nor the warmer houses that would stop the slums from losing people to the winter’s chill. Their mind, always centered on the objective. If anything they had a few complaints…no, not complaints, for Pride could never err. They just had questions.

Why give every cultist their own room, too much food, even free time? That was an absolute waste of time. They were supposed to work towards the Witch. If they died of exhaustion on the way there it would be a good death. Yet Pride had given his answer. ‘Are you stupid, Eight? Do you want to die of exhaustion or overwork? Well, too bad. You will serve until you are no longer useful. Dying before that is not allowed.’ And so Eight would obey.

They missed a step. It…could be nice to see the Witch be reborn. To see the new world after that. To see their deepest wishes meet. Eight blinked. Her mind, not being used to proper rest, nutrition and a degree of normalcy, noticed yet again that question. What had her deepest wish been? Eight shook their head. An idiotic question. Why worry about what would be accomplished? They sped up their pace, running late to their rendezvous.

Half an hour later, and two minutes too late, Eight stood still as they waited for Meili. Her gaze, however, looked around to the liveliness of the city. Strange how their gaze was stolen by the happy laughter, by the running children, by the people going on about their day. H-Th-H-Their hands grabbed each other, refusing the stillness. They shook their head, focusing back on their task.

And so they waited for Meili, skipping her steps with an Elsa plushy on her hands. “Hello, Eight! How have you been?”

The cultist bowed at their, for now, superior. “Everything has been going according to plan, miss Meili.”

At that the child assassin sighed and shook her head. “You lot are sooo boring!! Work this, work that, plan over there…”

“We have a mission, miss Meili, and Zurvan is waiting for our report.”

Meili whined loudly, hugging the plushy. “Killjoy.”

A regretful bow. She tensed up when the child grabbed her hand. “Lead the way then, Eight!”

And so they checked all of their operations. From soup kitchens to the craftsmen area, housing, the gangs under their control. Collecting taxes, stolen goods, redirecting carriages, readying supply chains, fudging ledgers, …All of the things that maintained the Black Fortress under the radar. 

But today they also had to make connections with the new merchants too. But more carriages, resupply on essentials and commodities. They spent the entire day together, always working and always planning. Or they would have done so if Meili’s boredom didn’t sometimes delay their work. And Eight could not really regret it despite themself.

… 

Elsa waved her legs from atop a building, her gaze staring out of the city and towards the west. There, her gaze caught a group of cultists, no more than three, leaving as a small team of troubadours. Part of the Word Bearers, they would reveal the corruption of nobles and commanders to bring chaos and distrust towards Lugunica’s nobility. And, as cultists, they had ample proof to back up their claims. 

And those three weren’t the only group. Subaru had diverted quite a lot of their manpower towards this task, not that Elsa did not see its possible rewards. The higher the chaos and distrust towards Lugunica, the easier their job would be. Maybe the cultists would be able to recruit some members too, not that she knew how that worked nor wanted to learn.

Elsa sighed, mind going back to her ‘reward’. Her left scratched her right wrist. Pride had been fairly angered, muttering something about a ‘dumb guard jumping the gun’. She had tried for the sixth time and his movements had been beautiful yet again. Beyond a mere parry, it was as if he had known how, from where, when and with what she would stab and he had countered despite their difference in strength. The result, her hand had gotten cut off. And the glare he had directed at her, as if she had been nothing but an insect to squash, filled with rage…

Elsa sighed, the sound soft and longing. “Ah, could this be love?” She giggled a little bit, remembering his conversation with Capella she had stalked. The sheer ire, the sheer killing intent. It had been an overpowering stench. Musky, wet, coppery…She would even enjoy seeing Mother again if only to experience it again.

Still, enough time had been wasted. Her expression grew colder and professional and she jumped off the building. There was always countless work to do to maintain an underground empire working. There were always fingers that tried to move on their own, stomachs that tried to digest what wasn’t theirs. Guts that thought themselves the smarter cogs.

And she would remind them who gave the orders. Who led. Who was the head of this body. And, maybe, she would do just so fine a job that he would let her gutter some fools.

…………

Chapter Text

Subaru stared at the rows of cultists in front. Four hundred and fifty readied believers in love stood in long lines in front of his throne. Ara and Vela, noticing the tense ambience, were fluttering around and above Subaru’s head. Raising from his throne, Pride’s voice was a whisper. “Iron Believers, step forward.”

And so fifty cultists did so. Ten of them were clad in well fitted chainmail, twenty in lamellar armour and another twenty in regular leather armour under their robes. In their hands, halberds that the governor had been very kind in gifting to them. His tiniest legion, and the one that would focus on being a nuisance and a distraction while outright engaging the knights that were outside the royal palace. Based around crowd control, these old fingers and more powerful believers would turn into an unmovable wall that would provide the perfect cover for the raiding of Karsten’s warehouses.

His gaze went to the missing two hundred and fifty cultists, Word Bearers and Night Stalkers, already busy with infiltrating the carriages filled with firestones inside the city while two carried missives to both Greed and one of the Gluttonies. His hand went to his pocket, tracing the several conversation mirrors he had managed to outfit them with. They should arrive tomorrow and so he must be ready to act as he must. His presentation must be perfect. And so he would loop the operation until it went according to his plan at every step of the way. After all, this operation would be the only one that would be easy, for the Kingdom would learn of them and adapt.

“Sharp Legion, step forward.”

And so a hundred cultists advanced. Most lacking any armour, all of them were fielding lowbows. Even if it had stopped being surprising, Subaru could but be awed at the draw weights of almost 300 pounds, or 140 kilograms, not that unusual for the magic world. Powered by the enormous weapons, the arrows would pierce whatever target he desired and he so happened to have a white haired man already as one. Truly, he could not wait to infringe on their rights. Still, should his plan of using the Blue on the wives not work it would have to wait until further down the line.

“Pride’s Wolves, step forward.”

And another hundred cultists did. Armed with light equipment, mostly scavenged from bandits and low tier criminals in the city, their job was being the muscle of the Cult’s operations in the underground, where intimidation and numbers mattered more than straight combat capability. Mostly grunts and low end cultists no more powerful than normal people, they kept their operations in check and did a variety of tasks to maintain the operations. In this one, they would be part of the vanguard.

“Lastly, Black Legion, advance a step.”

And so the last two hundred cultists moved a step forward. Moderately armed and wearing badly fit armour, they would be the flanks of this operation. They would, together with the Wolves. scour through the city, keep the hostages in check and engage whatever knights and men at arms they found in the midst of their duties while protecting the evacuation and extraction points for their loot.

Subaru’s gaze surveyed the quiet and unmoving believers in love. He really had no need for a speech, as he needed not to explain for their gospels would write his will. He still extended a hand to the right. “Here we are, believers in love. A month and a half since the start of our faction and our conquests have been nothing!” His tone, cold yet energetic, the dying embers inside an oxygenless room. And, like those, they were ready to ignite at the smallest gulp of air. “We have no glory to our name, no steps have been advanced. But we have not been slothful. We have not idled!” And so they came to become flames. His voice turned a roar. The cultists tensed up,

“We have spent six weeks readying the road, preparing our equipment and accumulating energy for our run! This shall not be a first step, this will be a jump, a roar!! Tomorrow we part and, in two days, we will arrive at the capital of this abhorrent, horrid Kingdom!! And we shall outdo every knight, soldier and heathen that refuses to see the way forward!” Subaru left his throne as both Ara and Vela, a bit bigger, trailed behind him, the first on his right shoulder and the second on his left one. “We will invade their sacred place of power and pilfer it out of every artillery piece, every weapon, armour and utility! We will secure the future of warfare, the Goddess of the Battlefield, of our power and of the Cult, and we will make a mockery of all of them! The Sword Saint himself will be incapable of stopping us and we shall step all over his reputation!”

Their empty and cold gazes stared daggers at Pride.

“This will be the first step in killing the hero!! We will never rest, we will never stop, we will never not act as long as the Sword Saint is still breathing as such! This Kingdom needs not such a contemptible person, not a source of so much loathing, a walking grudge, a walking Destiny shattered!” His words were further incensed, a torrent of unbridled hate. This small diatribe, the real reason behind the speech. “And it is our mission to stop him, to stop the kingdom and to advance forward! We will crush their hope and steal the tools for their destruction that they have so gracefully crafted for us alone! And, along the way, we shall liberate our fellow siblings from their jails, from their dungeons!”

More silence. Eight, in the front row, stiffened.

Subaru breathed in and all of the gospels updated. “You are dismissed. Ready yourselves for the incoming battle. And do so with the safety of knowing you won’t die.”

All of them bowed at the same time and retreated to their chambers.

Elsa and Meili, having been waiting next to a wall, approached him. “Big brother, it is very mean of you to leave us behind while you go have fun in the capital!” Pouting, Meili turned her face away from him. “And with Eight too! She is such a drag to be around…”

“Sin-Archbishop, is it truly a necessity for both of us to remain behind? Either would be enough to maintain your control over the city thanks to Eight and that…merry band of yours.” Not having bothered to remember that dumb name, Elsa tilted her head. “Can’t your plans be able to squish one humble assassin into them?”

Subaru’s gaze went to her. The image of the Sword Saint overpowering her with just his hand destroyed whatever intention he could have of accepting her demand. “You will stay here, that is final.” His glare fell on her, twice as cold and lacking the heat of before. “Do think better on going against it.”

Her smile widening if turning sad, Elsa bowed. “Safe travels then, Sin-Archbishop. Remember that it must be me that kills you.”

A curt nod. Next to Elsa, Meili sighed. “So we are left to play house duty? Urgh.”

“Anything more?”

Two shakes of their heads and the two killers backed away from Pride, letting him return to his chambers behind the throne room.

Once inside Pride closed the door and sat on his king sized bed. In front, a human sized mirror returned to him himself. The way was readied and his determination was even more solid than last time. He would hesitate not, he would make every sacrifice he must, even if these were only of himself. His tongue traced his poison capsule tied to his teeth. His hands, his new dagger, made of blackened steel.

His gaze grew colder, causing the spirits around to visibly sadden at the emotions he was radiating. He had taken thousands of tries in his first round. This one would be no different. This restart he would win, this restart he would min/max to the fullest, this restart would…must be perfect. After all, this was the only way he knew how to, he could advance from. He had to master it. He knew no other way, he had no other cards, no other abilities. He was just the Sin–Archbishop of Pride, Natsuki Subaru. And death was solely his to use.

…

The gate guard yawned, as tired as a bag of rocks, while they watched the stream of carriages enter into the Capital. The incoming ceremony was too important to allow any disturbance and so the guards and knights had been set in double shifts. And these were starting to be felt by all the normal guards, even if the knights had almost inhuman fortitude and were fairly resistant to accumulated exhaustion. Blinking, they moved to engage the next carriage.

Huh, they did not know that coat of arms. Walking in front of the carriage, they hailed them to stop and so Third and Fourth did. “Who do you name your loyalty after?”

“Governor Minerva. We have a letter of recommendation.” Fourth bowed at the guard as they passed the missive.

Trying to not roll their eyes, the guard skimmed over the letter, noticing the keyword ‘Merchant’ and the signature of the governor. “Whatcha selling?”

“Appas.”

…? Blinking the exhaustion away, the guard frowned. Appas? They had come from Cramlin to sell appas? Gesturing with their head, another four guards joined in. “I see, anything more?”

“Diversed fruits and preserved foods to sell during the celebrations.” The two cultists balked not in their casual clothes as the guards entered the carriage. Opening the boxes, they started to push away the merchandise, trying to see if there was something not up to code.

One of the guards pulled out a knife and grabbed an apple, not noticing some soft cuts on it thanks to the difference between the dark inside and the bright morning they were having, while two checked inside the walls and under the carriage and the last the floor itself. 

The gospel updated. “You cut it, you pay it.”

The guard groaned, half a mind on simply throwing them the appa. Their gaze lowered to the boxes. No weapon in sight, no scrolls, no nothing. Just boxes with fruit and dried or smoked meat carried away by two dimwitted merchants. Grumbling, they left the carriage. The other three guards were quick to follow.

“Well, enjoy your stay.”

“We will do so, sir.” Four retorted, their expression a perfect mask.

…

A knight was struck in the back of the head and toppled to the stream of sewage. Their fall was almost missed by the very same cultist thanks to the overbearing darkness all around the sewers under the capital. Still, their gospel had updated and they had dealt with this wayward intruder. Grabbing their arms and pulling them into dry land so that they drowned not, they tied their hands, arms, legs and mouth and returned to the convoy. 

And so the cult pushed the card through the sewers, their gospels updating in real time to either dodge the patrols or outright deal with them. Their target, one of the five buildings that the cult must be ready to invade and clear out of Lugunicans when the moment comes so that Pride’s plan may advance. They would secure their ins and outs, ghosts under the ground.

…

Fifth walked silently across the road in front of the Karsten’s manor. Reconnaissance was apparently not needed and so they would not engage in it. They only needed to observe any developments that could complicate their plans of threatening the Blue. In their pockets, several vials filled with analgesic and hallucinatory herbs ready to be burned.

Entering without anyone noticing had been assured by the gospel and so Fifth nodded at the mages behind him and they slithered towards the manor. As if knowing whenever the patrols would go by and all of their blindspots, the dressed in black crawled and tiptoed towards the walls. A few more nods and ropes and hooks were unveiled.

A nod and Fifth, the most athletic and the one with the worst magic skill, started to climb. The gospel had foretold where they had to grasp with their hands and feet and so they did. The gospel also foretold a party of guards getting too close and so fellow cultists made a small distraction just outside the manor. A brawl between a few drunkards. Not enough to be threatening but enough to draw the interest of very bored guards.

A few minutes and they reached a window that had been opened to let some breeze in but they had forgotten to close. And so Fifth entered into the room and secured the ropes while the brawl outside worsened, causing some of the guards, awake enough to notice the dark ropes, to divert from their usual duties.

Another minute and the mages entered into the room after recovering the ropes. Knowing the layout and where every servant was in real time thanks to the gospels, they scurried towards Crusch’s room. Waiting outside, the fire mages started to heat up the vials while all the cultists wore their masks to protect themselves from the high.

Opening the door ajar, they let the mixture that Pride had ‘discovered’ together with some smoke. After the vials were depleted the cultists dived into the room, knowing they were on a timer. Stabbing into her arms and legs, they cut tendons and important muscles with uncanny precision, doing their best to immobilise the candidate without causing mortal damage. Tying her up and gagging the still knocked out candidate, they put a wet cloth on her mouth with more herbs and rappelled down the room after leaving a letter addressed to the Blue. The brawl outside was now almost as big as a street war with around thirty cultists and forty civilians. 

And so the guards of the manor, looking away, were ignorant of the stirring candidate that was starting to fight against her captors. Blindfolding her and deafening her too, one of the cultists hit her head, knocking her out for another while. And so the merry band led by Fifth reached one of the manhole covers and threw Crusch right shoulder first into it, using the fall to break a few of her bones to impair her concentration to cast wind magic.

Fifth looked down at the woman from the road. They would need to stop to resupply on herbs and keep her fully drugged to fully stop her rampage that the gospel foretold. And so they would do.

…

Subaru sat on top of the carriage. The new moon shone on their party no bright nor hopeful light. The wind was blowing, it was almost raining a tiny bit and it was a cold night. And Subaru cared not for it, for this continuous looping was finally ended. Everything was in place for tomorrow. His wide eyed stare continued to stab into the capital city’s walls, now in full view. Ara and Vela stirred on his lap, his radiating tenseness injecting them with a sense of danger and haste. He would see her again. After two long months, he would see her visage again. Her silvery hair, her bell-like voice, her endless compassion. Oh, his stars were truly good today.

His smile widened as he saw Fifth approaching with the Royal Candidate. Jumping off the carriage, it being stopped by the gospel’s will, he approached them. Fifth saluted and the mages stood still as they raised the groaning woman. Pride cared not for all of that and his hands went to two things. The dragon insignia and the dagger with a lion’s crest. Noticing it, Crusch grunted angrily and managed to form a blade of air. Tilting his head as if he had expected that, his smile lessened as he dodged the tricky but lethal spell. “Now, now, you would not want to hit the firestones I am wearing and kill us both, would you, now?”

Crusch paused at that, noticing no lie. Before she recovered her wits and struck again she was hit on the head again and knocked out for the fifth time tonight.

“Ouch, that could have nasty permanent damage.” Contrary to his words he simply handwaved the cultists away. The shack…pardon, the guest room for the Royal Candidate, princess to the kingdom, was ready and it would be disrespectful to deprive her from the comfort of the Witch Cult’s accommodations. Ara and Vela glared at her back. “...Really, how far can the lucky blueblooded and well born bastards fall…” Shaking his head, his gaze was stolen again by the Royal Castle. Yes, it was long time for his return.

His hands donned the dragon insignia into a necklace. The dagger itself, exchanged by the one he had stolen from those three thugs.

……

The Sword Saintess stood with perfect decorum in the knights’ section of the ceremony. Her face had morphed into a frown once the minutes passed and neither Ferris nor Lady Karsten were managing to arrive and were risking elimination. Already Crusch’s faction and supporters whispering had loudened enough to be heard. The Royal Candidates standing next to the Council were still resolute, even if cracks were able to be seen in Emilia, shuffling in confusion and worry, and Priscilla, her gestures with the fan growing more and more irritated.

Marcus coughed. “Well, in order to respect the time of the rest of the royal…”

The two guards outside opened the gates and let a runner, a young man at arms, through, huffing and puffing, they raised their head. Hundreds of the stares of nobility and knights way beyond their position drained both their face of blood and their voice of strength. The gates closing behind him like the closing of their casket, should they say something unbecoming.

“What is it?”

The man at arms advanced forward with shaky steps. Fuck. They decided to simply tell the news directly, no kneeling nor nothing. “La-Lady Karsten has been kidnapped!”

And a storm of whisperings, gasps, conversations and even screams were heard. The Sword Saintess shuffled on her place, her worried gaze flickered to the place where Ferris should be standing. Julius, at her left, stiffened up, right hand going to the hilt of their sword.

“What…?! How has such development…Wasn’t she in the-?”

Marcus’ words were cut as the gates exploded in a fiery show. The shockwave sending the civilians back into their seats and readying the knights for combat, all of those who could turn their heads did so. And so, inside a rain of flaming pieces of wood, raining stone and a cloud of dust, a man was seen walking forward.

“Knight Commander Marcus, if I may be so forward I think I could be able to answer those queries of yours.” Too bright of a smile, the man dressed in black advanced a few steps, arms extended to his side as his cloak fluttered in the aftermath of the explosion, causing a storm of black feathers that revealed the dangerous orange below.

Adelheid paled, noticing the vest of firestones, enough of them to blow half of the room away. She paled further once she scanned the face of the man in front. “You are…” Her whisper left her lips with no potency and so it died without being heard.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot about the most important part.” His smile widened as two lesser spirits showed themselves on his shoulders. His smile reached his eyes and he started to bow, uncaring for all of the sounds of swords leaving their sheaths and crossbows being armed. “Sin-Archbishop representing Pride, Natsuki Subaru. Let’s get along, guys.” His perfect bow ended just as a section of the city, in full view through the destroyed gates, exploded behind him. As he left the position he raised his right hand, four fingers up and one flexed, the background to that gesture, flaming pieces of wood, stone and a smoke cloud.

As screams and the sound of battle and toppling buildings started to reach the royal palace, not one of the people inside moved. The knights with long range weaponry, having noticed the vest, could only lower their weapons, fearful of hitting the firestones and blowing themselves up. Julius, spirit knight, was having trouble calming down his, the breathtaking miasma from the man causing them panic beyond words. Adelheid was clenching his dragon sword, ready to unsheathe.

As if just seeing her, Pride turned to her. His smile widened a bit but lost all of its honest joy as the emotions inside his mind turned into hate and…accomplishment? “Heya, Adel, do you regret saving me now?” He lowered a finger and another section of the city was prey to the firestones that the cult had set up all around the city. He waited for the sounds of the explosion to die before continuing. “Do not worry, you are only human, after all.”

Marcus backed away as Elder Miklotov left their seat. “What is a Sin-Archbishop doing here? Did you come for the half-elf?!”

His gaze, angered, left Adelheid to turn back to that council's mouthpiece. “Did I allow you to speak?” And Pride lowered the third finger. Miklotov paled as his eyes moved to the city, another roar caused now by his words. The result, a tenth of it now on fire. Silence fell on the room. Pride sighed, relieved. His spirits fluttered, happier at him being happier. “That’s so much better. Maybe Cappi isn’t so wrong about the need to terrify people into silence.”

Pride started to walk towards the centre of the room with the casualness of someone entering their own home. Ignoring the glares of every mage, and a very interested one from a particular court mage, his light tone kept going with no apparent worry in it. “I gotta say, love how you are all so quick witted. Not that any of you would be dumb enough to target a walking bomb with an Al-Clarista, right, Julius?”

The called knight stiffened, having been stealthily aiming their sword at the head of Pride.

“After all, who would be stupid enough to trip to kill the person with a dead man’s switch?” Pride mockingly waved his last two fingers and most of the mages lost their concentration. “And, really, trying to freeze me to death or knock me out through magic could be so dangerous. Nobody here is thinking of it, right? What if poor little old me falls down and goes boom?” Pride jokingly closed his hands only to open them abruptly. “Will nobody think of the poor maids and butlers that would have to clean this room?”

As if he was in his element, the deranged cultist skipped through rows and rows of powerful noblemen and knights, not minding their deathly glares nor battle readiness. His steps, ever carrying him towards a certain Royal Candidate. “Oh, right, the questions, my bad there…The what is easy.” Pride tugged at his shirt’s collar and revealed the stolen dragon insignia. “Lady Karsten has…let’s say, met up with a few old good friends and forgot to take count for the time. Of course, we are not monsters and she is being taken care of with all the luxuries the people in this lovely city give to the most unfortunate individuals before her eventual return.” His perpetual smile and bubbly tone did little to ease the concern of anyone here.

“The how I will not tell. The joy of solving mysteries is personal and I would not want to rob any of you of that, alright?” He shook his head as he ‘tsk’ed several times, hands extended at his side. “That you ask is a bit of a cheating move and, really, a bit sad too.” Pride left the first rows of seats and came face to face with the royal candidates. The dais granted them a higher position as so they towered over Pride, together with the council itself and Marcus.

And Pride had no eyes for anything of that. Not the scared council, the angry Marcus, the inspecting Anastasia, Priscilla’s hidden expressions. In fact, they all had not even been factored into his mind yet. His field of vision only had a singular entity in it. Only the light of a figure was reflected into his eyes. Emilia, her expression distraught and somewhat anguished as the fire raged outside, was the greatest gift anyone could have given Pride. And so his script faltered as it always did, no matter how many minutes he stole from the world to appreciate the sight in front.

Her long silver hair, a cascade of argent beauty that outshone the very moon and threatened to take its place as a source of legend. Her purple eyes, more exquisite and valuable than the entire reserve of amethysts in the entire world, a pair of mirrors to the cleanest soul ever, and ones for which he would burn a city to watch the fire play on. Her simple white dress, another tell of her modest and pure character. And should Pride let his concentration waver for a second, his right hand would fly towards that white flower in her hair as it was undeserving of its position. Only the purest, most fabulous crown was worthy of being rested in that head of hers.

“...” His smile faltered. His eyes wavered. For he had realised the last image of her old her was overlaying on this one and both of their expressions were the same. Both hated him. His smile recovered. It mattered not, he would deliver all the same. “And who do we have here?”

Emilia stiffened up. Puck, hidden inside the pendant, did not know what to do. On one hand, the mind of the madman in front was filled with thoughts about protecting and making Emilia the queen. On the other, he was a damned Sin-Archbishop that had told the truth. To freeze him was to risk all to be lost. In the end Puck decided to wait and see. But should he dare to touch her…

“Now, now…” Pride snapped his left fingers a few times at Marcus. “Tell me, does this woman in front of me resemble the Witch?”

The Knight Commander’s gaze flicked to Emilia. “She doe-”

Pride lowered the fourth finger. This mayhem, right behind the palace. “Does she, does she?!” The roaring voice was followed by a deranged gaze filled with nothing but the deepest wrath. “Where is the similarity, the resemblance, the likeness? Because I only see a half-elf! She is nothing like the one we love! Like the one we want to bring back! She is nothing like our beloved Witch of Envy!!”

His words, a wave that crossed the entire room with empowered delusion. Yet not a single person could refute for, could a Sin-Archbishop, in their obsession, be wrong about this particular matter? Meanwhile, Adelheid’s hand wavered a tiny bit, reading his emotions like an open book. There was nothing but good will towards Lady Emilia. Maybe distorted almost past recognition. To an obsessive degree. But there was. And none at all towards either the Witch of the Cult itself. Yet Adelheid frowned, the sword coming out a bit out of its sheath. A cut to their neck and a quick pull and they would be able to…

“...and so!” Pride turned back to Emilia, finger raised and pointing at her. “The Witch Cult declares war on you, Lady Emilia! May Od Laguna deliver you from our ire!” At that last word an enormous cloud of Shamak overtook his figure and filled up the room in shadows. Countless spells were shot together with crossbow bolts, forcing the Sword Saintess to protect Pride under the shadows to stop that explosive vest from doing its job.

Deflecting al Goas, volts and spears, Adelheid was finally afforded to swing at the cloud of darkness, cutting through it too and revealing a Pride that had turned around in the destroyed gate, escorted by two cultists that had done in the guards. His smile turned predatory and he ripped out his vest, shredding all of the firestones in the direction of the nobility. Adelheid’s frown worsened when he mockingly winked at her and jumped, empowered by the yin spirit.

Focusing her mind, time seemed to slow down until it froze. The rain of firestones, now a painting of paused oranges, the colour of the Sin-Archbishop. Tensing up, Adelheid flowed into movement, sliding each and every single firestone in a way that did not ignite them. Each step, each swing, all calculated and executed to perfection. And every millisecond she took on the task of nullifying the hundred stones thrown, the Sin-Archbishop was floating away. Her eyes grew colder and she sped up even more, finishing the task before the rocks had even commenced their descent.

For the world itself, she was a blink, a flash and a blizzard at the same time, her skill and power dealing with a threat that they had almost not perceived. Not done with that, the Sword Saintess flexed her legs and jumped behind Pride, the ground being caved in by the strength of that jump. Her flight thrice as fast, her gaze was nonetheless able to inspect the capital city all around. Enormous fires consumed a fifth of it as people were…orderly evacuated from the affected areas.

The small skirmishes and fights all around the city, being easily won over by the fanatics as most of the knights were inside the palace. They were but a dark army of arts crawling as tendrils all over the city, leaving behind injured knights in safe places from the flames. The most dangerous of the nine hundred cultists, a formation of halberd soldiers purging the main road and forcibly evacuating people. The dungeons had been cracked open and some manors and almost all armories had been destroyed, opened and looted. Through the east gate several carriages were speeding away under the cover of the conflict. And the knights that were rushing out of the palace would prove too slow to catch any of them all for, once Julius left the palace, the tendrils dispersed and started to disappear as if having already planned for this.

Lastly, her target, as if it could not be any other way, was smiling at her with their arms extended. “Watcha say, Adel, a proper presentation for Pride, wasn’t it?! I gotta say, it feels very nostalgic!” His mad smile grated her ears but she could not swing her sword without threatening damage to the insignia or the person they needed to capture. Upon that consideration she was forced to try and match his velocity. Yes, he could not die until Lady Karsten and the Witch Cult were incapable of harming anyone tonight, for today was his painting and killing the head may change their gospels.

And match he she did, as even gravity seemed to favour her. When Pride fell, she was faster. When he slowed, she was more accurate. When he turned in unexpected directions as if expecting her movements, she redirected and fixed her inertia. Their chase based on jumps empowered by magic would end fairly anticlimatically. Adelheid managed to reach and grasp his ankle and, ignoring the small and weak flames of Ara, already being consumed and absorbed by herself, she forced both of them to land, slamming the Sin-Archbishop onto the floor and caving a small hole in his honour and similarity. Her second hand went to his neck and took hold of it while she positioned on top of him to stop him from running away.

He forced another laugh through bloody coughs and pained breaths and wheezing. “Ah…this brings back memories, Re-Adelheid…” Her stronger grip did not deter his mocking glare. The noises of the wildfire all around, almost silencing his words through the crackling and hissing, the destruction and consuming. The smoke and falling ashes, a new shamak she would have to cut. “So, what now? Do you choose the Sin-Archbishop or the city? The hero or the righteous anger?”

“You speak f…” She raised her head back to the sky. In there, the sky itself was tainted by a shell of the Night Banisher. Ara, knowing her magic to be useless and rejecting the weird attraction it felt towards Adelheid, rushed directly towards her face and she swatted it away just in time to block a stab from Pride with Crusch’s dagger. Her right hand cut all of his air and started to choke Pride. “...my apologies but you have-” Her mind finally calculated where that shell would land. And it would be in the middle of one of those evacuating columns of civilians. 

And so she had three options. Kill Pride and rush to their help. Rush to their help after leaving him out. Or secure the Sin-Archbishop for interrogation. Blinking away another collision with the lesser spirit, she let go of her hands when Pride’s left rushed at her with a new dagger. Both of his hands locked, she now could…Adelheid jumped away from Pride to dodge fifteen crossbow bolts from the surrounding roofs, still unwilling to snap their neck.

Had he guided both of them here? He… “Tim-Time is ticking, sister.” Caressing his neck, Pride started to tumble backwards as he slowly recovered his breath. All around him, the two dozens of new cultists appeared from the shadows as if they had always been there. “Oh, look, another one.” And indeed a second shell crossed the sky. “Really, you should get going, Adelheid. Isn’t that what a hero must do?” His smile was confident. So confident that Adelheid tensed up when he raised another five fingers. “Let’s not end this rivalry after just a day, yes?”

Adelheid jumped into the sky again, not dignifying that with a single word. Pride, knowing she would be back in a minute and thirteen seconds, jumped into a hole that had been already opened by the earth mage he had brought for this specific happenstance. Before Adelheid was done the witch cult had already disappeared from all over the burning capital, some mixing with the retreating civilians.

…

Far away from the chaos and on top of a black earth dragon, Pride watched as the wildfire, struggling to be contained despite the null casualties the knights had suffered, consumed a fifth of the capital city. Yes. This was a good presentation. Pulling the reins, the proud dragon accepted her new owner and turned towards the nine hundred cultists, two hundreds of those malnourished and wounded due to their stay in the dungeons of the city. Newbies to the cult, they had not readied their suicide and so they had been trapped.

“Now, believers in love, did I lie?”

All of them kneeled. Third, Fourth and Fifth in the first row, bowing deeply. Pride’s words had all come true, as if they were but Od Laguna’s will. No deaths had been had in the Witch Cult. Its first deathless operation in all of its remembered history. It had not been a battle of deliverance. It had been a show of supremacy. Today, the Witch Cult had proven to be above the best of the Kingdom in their own home territory.

Uncaring for that feat, Subaru’s gaze returned to the city. “Got one over you didn’t I, Adelheid?” His gaze watched as buildings were devoured by the flames, their dying cries rumbling to final rest in the form of burnt rubble. “Let’s move. We have a pending chat with two very kind individuals.”

…

Pride sighed as he, together with five and his fifty Iron Believers, finally reached the wooden shack where Crusch was being held as a very loved guest. Fireplace on, food and water ready for her every need, she was currently being tended by around twenty cultists. For now, and despite being in close quarters, Crusch had been fairly calm and had refused to lash out at her very kind temporal retainers. 

Rolling his eyes as he remembered that pitiful attack that had taken six loops to get the hand off, he turned towards the Blue. And Wilhelm, protectively ahead of Felix, was standing still and exuding killing intent. “I see that the legends were true, Sword Demon.” Pride’s tone, growing happier, was continued by a ‘hop’ as he jumped off the earth dragon. “A shame your granddaughter didn’t. Imagine for the previous Sword Saintess to allow a big bad evil cultist like me to escape.” Pride shook his head. “I am sure Th-”

Cold wind flowed and Subaru stopped talking. His smile gone, he sighed again, the fake tone giving away to irritation. “Are you always so by the book, butler?”

“We came as your rotten missive requested of us, monster.” Cold words, Wilhelm’s hand was on the hilt of his sword. His eyes, calculating the route to deal with the fifty cultists around pride. Not doable but he would be able to. The question was, was the cabin also another ambush? “Let us keep the pleasantries at a minimum for I lack the patience to hear your infuriating voice, boy.” A frown sharper than his sword, cold wind blew again as his gaze tried to murder the Sin-Archbishop in front.

“Huh…do you always play the older card to diminish your opponent?” Pride’s smile back, he clapped once. “Not that it matters for, tonight, you are under these rotten fingers of mine. Now, if you could shuu,” Subaru dismissively waved at the man, “, out of the way, I only have business with the Blue.”

Tensing up, Felix moved away from Wilhelm’s shadow. “...who do you want me to heal?”

Subaru arched an eyebrow. “Quick on the uptake? Huh…as if you two were a completely different person…not that you would have been the same but the difference is uncanny.” Subaru tilted slightly his head, tired spirits resting on his shoulders. The Blue in front was whole…He clicked his tongue. Fine, he would do the Blue a favour and let go of that attachment as they would become enemies henceforth. Turning around, cloak fluttering, he started to walk towards the cabin. “Follow me.”

Three metres behind, Pride led them towards the windows so that they may see their Lady. Trapped in an armour of stone, she was visibly alive, if a bit pale thanks to pain she kept holding in. Around her, six cultists with bats remained still. All over that stone armour, more firestones. 

“You see, I never expected to use almost all of the firestones in the kingdom but, as they say, spend lots of money to make lots. Well, in this case it was others’ people’s money but you get the saying, yes?” Turning around, he sat on his earth dragon that had silently followed them, her gaze on both dangers. He really needed to name this earth dragon.

“...and that has another dead man switch?”

“Bingo.” Pride’s smile went guide and showed the poison capsule inside his mouth. “You are fast, Blue.” His gaze moved to Wilhelm. “Now…let’s talk about the plan, yes? Sir Demon Sword may wait here to see that I fulfill my end of the deal and blue will follow Fifth there,” The cultist not heavily armed bowed at blue. “, and heal those people of mine.”

Wilhelm tensed further. “And how d-”

“Well, for starters, if I wanted to kill you I would not have kidnapped lady Karsten but executed her where she slept, yes?” The wind picked up but Pride’s confident smile wavered not. “Or if I wanted to now, I would simply activate the firestones there and kill us all right now, right? For me holding it up to the end…” Pride shrugged, opened the window and pointed at Crusch. “Ask the Lady inside. Am I lying when I say I will let you three leave without any backstabbing?”

Crusch stood silent, refusing to engage with the Sin-Archbishop.

“See?” The Sin-Archbishop smiled at that. “She is calm and composed.”

Both of their gaze examined the injuries in their lady. “...you have my word that I will personally hunt you down, Sin-Archbishop.” Wilhelm’s growl tensed up the earth dragon, her showing her fangs in retaliation. “I shall leave no rock, no cave, no dark pit unturned and I will repay all the pain and death you caused today.”

“Get on the queue, I have heard a lot of words like those.” Subaru closed the window. “So…”

Wilhelm backed away and stood next to the door of the cabin, ready to act in case anything went shady. Pride could only scoff at that.

“Really, to act as the righteous knight when you were arrogant enough to not tell the Sword Saintess where you were going is something I will never be able to understand. You are but an old man lashing out in grief, uncaring of everyone around you.” Subaru turned back to Felix. “I wonder, do you even realise how much better your family would be without you?” And so Pride missed Wilhelm’s flinch. “Now, Blue, let’s get moving, yes?”

Felix nodded and moved a step towards the earth dragon, as if to mount on it too, before two halberds were crossed in front of him.

Subaru shook his head. “Really? I am not letting the best water mage in the kingdom get within touching distance. You will walk as I explain your job.” And so ten Iron Believers and Fifth followed the two of them while the other forty stood around Wilhelm, ready to act as a time waste for the Sword Demon.

“Mostly, your job is very, very easy. You will obey Fifth when he tells you to start or stop, when to move and when to act. And you will only have to stop the heartbeats of…fifty two women without them dying.

Felix paled at that. “Fif…fifty two?”

“We have prepared ample bokko fruits for you, as I am sure the Blue will be able to deal with their aftereffects, yes?”

“...and for how long?”

Subaru raised five fingers. “Ten seconds. Fifteen if you can push it.” Subaru’s visage altered not as Felix shuffled. He knew damn well that he would go for nine seconds, maybe even lower. “And they must live, yes? Or your Lady goes puff.”

“I…understand…” After those words of acceptance the rest of the trip was silent. 

Reaching the cabin, Subaru gestured at the Iron Believers and they pushed the Blue into it. Loaded with a bit of water and some food, the Blue was pointed a few times at it so that his strength wavered not during their duty. And so, without waiting for anything of that, Pride pulled the reins away.

“Let’s go, Patrasche. We have a Sin-Archbishop to kill.”

Her tail wavered in battle readiness.

…………

Chapter Text

“It’s time.” Fifth’s unnervingly calm voice shook Felix from his wooden chair. All around him the ten Iron Believers tensed up and formed a ring around the Blue. “You will walk, heathen.” 

Felix nodded and pushed away the untouched water and plates of food. Surrounded by the echoes of eleven steps, their small group left the small house and started to walk in silence. Immersing themselves into the forests, they ducked under branches, stomped on roots and stones and forced themselves to not slip on the mood below them.

“...” Felix slapped a branch from his face as he inspected the back of Fifth. “So…what do I need to do?” Silence was his only answer for small talk was not in their gospels and so they did not engage in it. Sighing if only to repress a shudder, Felix refocused and stared forward, trying not to think of the knightly vows he was breaking to save her lady. He could only hope that the damage he would do would not be too much. His gaze was unable to peer through the dark forest at night.

At the very least he was learning about the Witch Cult. While unable to see their faces, Pride was affected by Lady Karsten’s Divine Protection and by water magic. Him fearing contact with him meant that proved that he must be. Now…how to get closer enough to? Or, even better, how could he signal to the kingdom that they were here? Felix’s gaze flickered to Fifth’s conversation mirror, glinting through his pockets.

That…was one way to…Ears fluttering, Felix started to speed a tiny bit. He grimaced as all cultists did the same, always maintaining the same distance as if having warned about this possibility. Clenching and unclenching his hands, Felix’s gaze examined the surroundings. Nowhere. At least not somewhere he recognised nor was of any significant importance. Just a part of the forest around the capital.

Alright…that plan had not worked. Well, they needed him alive, right? And the cult had only ever treated his members as disposable so, if he could whittle down their numbers as they marched…Worth a try. And so Felix slipped. And no cultists moved to stop him from hitting the ground face first. They only stopped their movements to always maintain the same distance between them.

“Pride demands you to get up and continue your movement, heathen.” Fifth’s cold voice interjected, no sight of emotion on it apart from the tiniest bit of exasperation. “And so we ask of you to get up and continue your movement.”

Felix hissed in faked pain and grabbed his ankle. “I can’t go on w…”

“Please, we ask of you to get up and continue your movement.”

“...I think I got my f…”

“Please, we ask of you to get up and continue your movement.”

Growling a tiny bit, Felix got off the ground and their march restarted. Out of ideas, he intentionally slowed down his pace to the minimum he could get away without getting called on it. After ten minutes more of walking they reached a small wooden house in the forest. More cozy if visibly abandoned, the sounds of moving people inside, a lot at that, revealed their objectives inside.

Fifth uncaringly strolled towards the door and entered the building with no doubts nor haste, every second having been dictated by the gospel. Standing with their full height, their gaze moved towards the fifty two women in front who were tensing up with slight fear at seeing the usual cultists. Devoid of hope, their gazes did not move to a very, very confused Felix.

Fifth’s cold and professional voice filled the room with no problem, its pure confidence was an unshakeable faith in its gospel. “The Sin-Archbishop of Pride, and by His will the Witch Cult, has declared the once Sin-Archbishop of Greed, Regulus Corneas, a traitor and heretic and has ordered his summary execution.” The wives in front blinked, not fully understanding the words. “And so, to deliver His judgement, your hearts will be stopped via Blue’s progress in healing magic, as those are the source of his defensive barrier. Once they are all stopped, Pride will be able to fulfill His will.”

Some life was returned to their eyes and tiny whispering started. One of the wives, with blonde hair, advanced forward and placed herself in front of the rest. “Sir Cultists, you should already know that husband-sama is invincible.”

“Not anymore.” Fifth stood taller and signalled the Blue to enter, which he did even if with shaky steps. “The Gospel does not lie. The reason his Authority works has been explained by the One that Does Not Lie. Greed’s Authority depends on your beating hearts to work. And so we will stop them.”

And the buds of newly born hope died. Yet…it quickly was replaced by…happiness? Excited, giddy enthusiasm. The wives’ smiles, while crooked and evil, were honest. The crowd in front of the healer quickly worked itself into a frenzy. “Od below, we have been waiting for so long! / We…we can help to return some of the pain he has caused all of us to him? / Praised be Pride. A shame I can’t see him kick the bucket…”

Felix blinked at the sight in front. The cavalier attitudes of the evidently civilians in front, a punch to his gut. “Wa-wait…are…are you all willing to die to defeat the Sin-Archbishop of Greed? Aren’t you…”

The women turned to him with dead eyes. They had been robbed of their lives long ago and had been forced to merely survive. If anything, to go in a flame of glory would feel like retribution. Felix backed half a step, connecting the dots and seeing that these were victims, not willing participants. “I…”

“You seem to have not understood my words. I apologise for not being a good mouth piece for Pride.” Fifth coughed a bit. “What I meant to say is that your hearts have been ordered to be stopped by His will alone, but He has only decreed thus and so they will beat again once the one that was Greed has been dealt with.” Their eyes darkened. “Consider your bound to the Witch Cult terminated due to your marriage towards a heretic, and so you will be born anew as heathens. Try not to despair after being rejected by Her love and pale in fear at the fact that you are now out of the Cult.”

“We…we get to live too?” A wife muttered, suffering under the rollercoaster of emotion and not being willing to risk hoping again. “Can…can Pride really do it?”

Fifth’s glare glinted with danger. “You already show your heathen tendencies, ex-member. The Gospel does not lie and He will deliver. Greed is already dead, you just have to follow its writ.” Yet they backed away as the Iron Believers stood watch over them. “Now, Blue. Start.” Their glare, now a veritable blade, on them, Fifth grabbed the hilt of their sword.

Felix nodded weakly as he scanned the people in front. He gulped, his plan of intentionally messing this up going up in smoke as he advanced forward. Two of the Iron Believers did so too, undressing their coats to place them on the ground and rotating with the rest to make a floor usable for the treatment. Felix's tail wavered at that but he said nothing as he mentally readied the spell necessary for such a task.

Sylphy, blinking again, turned to Fifth. “I…can’t risk this being a lie, believer in love. May I be allowed to-”

“You are only required to have your heart stopped. If you are capable of moving afterwards, you are free to act as your traitorous free will demands of you, heathen.” Not moving from its position, Fifth kept their eyes on the blue.

Sylphy, after a few seconds, nodded and turned towards Felix. “Healer, is it possible?”

“Nyot. It would be too dangerous to…” His words died as he turned towards Sylphy. Her determined gaze showed that she was willing, and fully ready, to risk her life for this. “...you won’t be able to breathe fine nor without struggles and overworking could kill you. Will you…” The question perished again. She did not even need to nod to show her will.

Shaking his head Felix got to work on Sylphy first, not understanding why Pride was not killing them instead of going this roundabout, and way more dangerous for him, route, nor why he was aiming to kill Greed.

…

Subaru stood in front of the Flugel tree, back against it. At his right a Patrasche was curled up, her gaze attentive despite her comfortable position. Ara and Vela, the latter still a bit tired and the former regretful at having been unable to help against Adelheid, were both on top of his head. Arms crossed, Subaru made no gesture as he waited for the two Sin-Archbishops to reach his position. Neither did his eyes deviate towards the crowns of the trees around, hiding his Sharp Legion. 

After a minute, the howl of the White Whale was the warning bell that signalled the two Sin-Archbishops getting too close for his personal comfort. And only then did Subaru move. Uttering a sigh, he shook his head. While low on his personal hate list, both Lye Batenkaitos and Regulus were individuals he took no pity in destroying. The former a pitiless devourer of people, his only saving grace was being less indiscriminate than his brother. The latter, an egomaniacal idiot that could only think about a matter if he was directly involved in it. Well, if everything went to plan, and it would, he would never see the two of them again.

His fingers tapped his arms. His right foot started to move up and down. His spirits stirred above his head, slowly waking up again. The White Whale roared again, this time just behind the treeline. And so it flew right into the sky. Its skin glistened under the starry sky of this lovely night, a portion of it hidden beneath smoke. Its terrifying visage, its hateful gaze, kept controlled by words uttered not by Pride. With little to do, the White Whale started to orbit the crown of the Flugel Tree, its gaze never leaving the mortal drenched in the Witch’s smell.

Rolling his eyes, and somewhat irritated by its growls, Subaru’s gaze moved back to the road in front, where two particular Sin-Archbishops were arriving. The white haired man scoffed at the arrogantly standing fellow and shook his head with disgust.

“Is this really how one asks for help? Displaying yourself in such a prideful and arrogant way, while expected of someone so distasteful as one that endows the sin of Pride, is nothing less than, for starters, a lack of manners towards fellow coworkers. Expanding on that, it is nothing more than a complete lack of absolute consideration towards the time of the Cult, my coworker’s time, and my very own, even if I am humble enough to forgive you for this particular transgression as I am filled with the hope and expectatives of you being able to grow past this deviation of correct protocols of conduct. What’s more, shouldn’t ones that are equal to each other in glory, stance and duty stand with the expected respect that they receive out of their position? You are but stretching and, dare I say, breaking the limits of what is considered having a lackadaisical attitude towards duty and work and falling into a pit of self-complacency that will only weigh down on the whole team, for impoliteness is the first step towards the breaking of the gears of any proper and valid organization. Next would be your disrespectful letter addressed towards us. It lacked any semblance of the required verbosity and thankfulness that requests of help must engage in so as to convey the necessity of their situation for, otherwise, it would be just an action that goes against our very own works, for we all have very busy lives, even if I try to never mention how back breaking the amount of work I engage in, thing that deprives me of my beloved wives and duties that I have as their husband. Really, your lack of any respect towards us, Sin-Archbishop of Pride, is, from any rationality, further highlighted by your need to put the cultists that the Cult has bestowed upon you in ambushing positions all around this clearing, even if I doubt they would be of any usefulness in the non-possible case that we grow angered and decide to engage a comrade in arms in direct combat. Truly, that you even think and act in such a Prideful manner is beyond what your sin should allow and an infringement on our collective rights and, as part of this collective that I am, an infringement of mine.” Just as Regulus took a deep breath to continue his diatribe, his heart hammered in his chest once.

Indeed it was a pained thump, for his Authority found itself without any other hearts and so his protection faltered in the exact moment that five members of the Sharp Legion let go of their strings. The yellow tainted arrows sizzled through the air, causing small waves of wind as they found their aim true. Two pierced through Regulus’ arms from elbow to hand, tearing apart the insides of the arms. The other two, from thighs to feet. The last one, straight into his guts.

Feet nailed on the ground below, the shafts broke as he fell to his knees, the waves of pain too strong to even fight against. Almost instantly came a wave of nausea as the paralytic poison started to sink its teeth into his body, growing it cold and unfeeling. “Finally, I was fearing that your chattering would cause me a migraine.”

Regulus' shaky and blurry gaze tried to move towards Pride unsuccessfully. His mouth, unable to be opened. Lye, on the other hand, tilted his head at a Subaru that was pulling a bottle of oil from one of his pockets. “Now, we can’t say we disagree with your distaste of Greed but he is a fellow Sin-Archbishop, I can’t say we…”

“Tell me, Gluttony. Have you heard of the merchant queen?” Subaru stepped closer towards Greed, bottle in hand.

“...” Lye shuffled in his place, a glint of hate shining on his eyes.

“Don’t you want to devour her?” Subaru poured the oil on the paling Sin-Archbishop. “And what about slave merchants? Kararagi is filled to the brim with those. Think about it. In this hypothetical, you and I could ally. I would deliver you whichever target you want and the field of combat you taste-test them, and you would turn into my muscle and protection...” Subaru let the bottle escape from his grasp, hitting and breaking onto Regulus’ head. His body, drenched in flammable oil, “...for, as you see, I am just a very, very weak man in hand to hand combat.” Ara started to orbit on top of Greed.

“...that would be an attractive offer if we did not see you just betray Greed. Facing the same fate would be the worst, wouldn’t that be?” Lye, still tensed up, flickered his arms to unsheathe the daggers on them. “Now…”

“Then what about the Sword Saintess? Would you not want to eat her?” Subaru’s eyes glinted in unknown emotion. A part of him, screaming in wrongness. She was his target.

He fell silent. The ultimate meal and it had just been proposed to him. He flickered his arms again, hiding his daggers. He frowned, seemingly having a battle of wits with someone in his mind.

Taking that as permission, Subaru extended his hand so that Ara may sit on it. “Now…this is a tradition I could enjoy, Regulus. Last words?”

The Sin-Archbishop forced his mouth to open a millimetre. A small tickle of saliva and air wheezed out. Shrugging, Subaru extended his hand towards Regulus and got ready to snap his fingers before the sound of hurried steps made the three of them turn towards his right. There, a hyperventilating woman had arrived, sweat dropping off her forehead. After a few seconds for the sight in front to truly be made real, she finally saw a Regulus begging for help with his eyes. Begging in the same way that they all had done. Blood was running through his arms and Pride’s flaming finale seemed more cruel than necessary. He was done. He was dying. He could die.

Subaru frowned lightly. “Shouldn’t you be with the others, Sylphy?”

“Is…is he really dying?”

Subaru was going to sigh before a flash of fire appeared in front of his eyes. Unlike the flaming pillar of Adelheid, this one was a furious coat around Sylphy, devouring her skin and flesh. ‘Please…kill him…’ Subaru shook his head. His eyes fell on Ara and he shook harder. The motion lasted for a few seconds before he madly scratched at his head. “Fine! But this is the second time, Ara!! No more manipulation going forward!!”

Gluttony backed a step from the madman as Ara fluttered around, equally as confused. Retracting his arm, he unsheathed his obsidian dagger and, twirling it, extended it towards Sylphy, hilt first. She blinked at it, not understanding what he meant.

“I’m giving you the honours for the sake of the bravery of some old women.” Subaru’s eyes glinted as his smirk returned. Regulus paled further, either from bloodlust or from the crushed faint hope of Subaru having decided to spare him. Seeing her still unmoving, Subaru shook the dagger and moved it a bit closer towards her. “Take a stab at it. See if it makes you feel better.”

With weak and unsteady steps, Sylphy closed the gap between her and Pride. She had no doubt in her mind that the black-haired man dressed in cultist clothes was not him and so, once she stood in front of him, her hand touched the dagger. A deal with the devil, with the Sin-Archbishop. And yet that very fact was just an all-consuming cloud of doubt. “Why…why did you save us all today?”

Subaru sighed and let go of the dagger, it almost falling to the floor thanks to her weak grip. “As I said, for the old women. For the old Sylphy.” Subaru blinked strongly, trying to vanish the coat of fire around the Sylphy of today. “I have a heart too big and so it weighed on me a bit that you did not watch him burn.” Having had his fill in saying confusing and senseless words, Subaru backed a step and extended both arms towards the dying Regulus with theatrical fashion.

Poison starting to wane, the Sin-Archbishop of Greed was able to weakly raise his arms as Sylphy, roaring in anger, lunged at him dagger first. The first stab was followed by a second, a third. It quickly amounted to five, a dozen, two dozen. Up and down the dagger came and went, its edge never losing sharpness as Subaru lost count of the stabs. After a whole ten minutes of only the grunts and screams of Sylphy, charged with all the repressed emotions she had had for decades, her body gave out and she fell on her ass. The choir of stabs had reached almost three hundred. Their consequence, the mutilated body of her tormentor, jailer and torturer, more mincemeat than man at this point, laying finally still. 

After a few seconds in which only her breathing could be heard, Subaru’s soft voice cut through the silence. “So, what does your first kill taste like?” His expression, unreadable.

Sylphy’s gaze slowly moved to him before returning to the pile of meat in front. The obsidian knife dropped from her hands and her gaze fell on them. They were coated in red and a bit of brown. She was coated in red and brown. Her white dress, now pink. The coppery smell hit her and nausea invaded her. She turned around and puked.

Subaru’s expression softened. His voice, a powerless whisper. “That’s…” ‘A better answer than mine.’ His has tasted mostly of boredom and irritation, if with a bit of rage. Not of retributive justice. It had been meaningless in the grand scheme of his plots. Maybe it had been so because he had already lost too much of himself back then, during those fatidic first days of his journey. Maybe it had come after he had been too broken for it to really matter.

The White Whale above roared again, hiding the retching of the woman.

Lye rolled his eyes at the sight, the smell of vile irritating him. “So, now that that’s done and dusted with, can we get into those talks you wanted to have? While we would love to chat over a good table with a glass of wine on hand, we saw the chaos back then and we would rather miss the Sword Saintess. This time, at least.” Walking back forward, he stood at the left of Pride. His gaze ended moving to the corpse in front. “Well, he was a horrid meal so we are thankful you took care of it.”

“Right, the alliance.” Subaru’s gaze did not leave Sylphy, now coughing due to the burning in her throat. Sensing his emotions, both Ara and Vela flew next to her, trying to offer whatever comfort the two of them could. Blinking, he forced his casual smile of always and turned to the child. “Well, for starters, if you could order the White Whale to…” The wind blew and both turned in the same direction as before.

This time it was not a woman but the Sword Demon, sword unsheathed and cold gaze on the monster above. Its hate was quickly diverted to the two in front and next to the tree’s trunk.  “Pride!! You…” The entire Sharp Legion came out of their hiding places, bows drawn. Wilhelm paused his advance as he started to calculate their aims. “You dare to use that…that detestable creature!!”

Subaru’s smile widened, now fully honest. “Lye, you like to season your food, yes?” Lye’s smile grew again, seeing where this was going. “Order the White Whale to retreat beyond the Great Waterfall.”

Wilhelm paled. “You…you wouldn’t dare!”

And Lye roared in laughter. “We see, we see!!” Shaking their head, still snickering, their gaze gained unquantifiable hunger as they examined the man in front. “As nasty as we expected from Pride.” A wave and the White Whale roared again. Its fins paddled against the wind and it sped up, flying faster and faster to never be seen again. And it truly disappeared on the horizon, its roars never to be heard again, it seemed.

Wilhelm’s face was a painting of pure desperation as his nemesis, the creature that had murdered his soulmate, swam into forever safety. Forever away from retribution, from him. Towards a place he would never be able to follow it, to avenge her. “Pride!!!” His roar racked up the wind, now as cold as winter. Fifty arrows were shot and the Sword Demon rampaged through the volley, his sword never missing one. 

The ground cracked and he lunged towards Subaru, his rage blinding him to the situation they were in. Nevertheless, Wilhelm did the only thing he truly knew how to do. The thing he had sacrificed everything and everyone for. He swung his sword. He swung it with the same determination and skill as always. And it got parried and disarmed by Lye as he jumped in defense of Pride. Wilhelm blinked, sword glinting mockingly as it flew away, marking its betrayal as reality. He only then realised his folly as he got kicked into the chest, breaking ribs and pushing him away. Sent flying, Wilhelm hit the ground and tumbled along it as he dispersed the energy, trying to lessen his impact against the tree he had been aimed towards. A loud thump and leaves were kicked out of its crown.

Back against Subaru, Gluttony licked his dagger as he dispelled his lunar eclipse, hunger tunneling his vision in the gourmet buffet Pride had delivered in front of him. Now the old man looked like well aged wine. “We are sorry, we can’t really let you kill our new ally just lik…” Ley’s words lost potency as he moved a step forward. Looking down, he saw that Crusch’s dagger, stained in the same yellow that had done Greed in, had stabbed through his chest and heart. Tumbling two extra steps forward, he turned towards Pride with glassy and confused eyes. Before he could activate eclipse and heal his wounds, an act further slowed down by the poison injected directly into his heart, the other fifty arrows were shot at him, shredding the child’s body.

Ignoring the enemy he had just felled, Subaru’s gaze was only on Wilhelm. “Now, now, you would not really want to kill Crusch because you got angry at the White Whale retreating to safety now, would you? The dead man switch is still on.”

Both Wilhelm and Sylphy were out of words. The corpse of Lye, just a sidenote of this encounter for Pride, was right next to his feet after they had just drafted an hypothetical alliance. The sight of trounced meat, skin and bones of the betrayed Sin-Archbishop, most unbelievable. His too wide smile and shining, content eyes, uncanny. “Sir…Pride?”

Wilhelm, ignoring broken bones, got up. Spitting some blood first, he turned two crazed eyes towards Pride. “...you are utterly disgusting, Sin-Archbishop.”

Subaru mockingly bowed at that. “Likewise, Old Man. But, really, you should blame your beloved granddaughter. Her failure at trapping me has made all of this possible.” A last wink and Pride left the gesture, his smile gone. “And our deal has finished, shuh, shuh. Take back your cat-boy and idiotic Lady and get out of my sight.” His words were combined with Subaru waving the Sword Demon away, not that he moved. Turning away, cloak fluttering behind him, he started to walk. His midnight symphony, having ended on a high note. And so his hands moved first to his collar, unfastening it and letting the insignia drop. After that was the sheath of the dagger, dropping that memento of Crusch too. Both things, meaningless to him.

Two sets of steps were quick to sound trailing him. One of Patrasche and the second of Sylphy, still exhausted thanks to Blue’s magic. All around, the cultists were mixing into the shadows of the night and retreating too. Uncaring for her, he kept going.

“Sir…sir Pride!” Not giving up, Sylphy used her last batch of energy and managed to grab Subaru’s right, further tainting it in blood. As his irritated gaze turned back to her, a shadow of Regulus hid his face. The illusion making her gulp, the ghost was nonetheless destroyed as his gaze recognised her.

“...yes? I…kinda gotta move so be quick, alright?” His tone incensed, his gaze, despite being scary, betrayed a hint of empathy for her.

Wheezing, and body feeling too cold, she wavered. Her words, determined, stable and toneless. “I…I prayed daily for anybody, even a demon, to help us with him. I would have sold my soul to anyone, anything…” Her eyes flickered to her own bloodied hands. “And you did it. You helped all of us when no one did. Let me serve you.” And so Sylphy bowed her head.

And Pride stood still. Wasting time. He really shouldn’t. Adelheid could be on her way. Even Julius. Even an army. Yet, the sight of Sylphy right now, begging for… He forced a fake smile. “Well, welcome to the team then, Sylphy. You are in dire need of a nickname but it can wait.” 

Sylphy let out the breath she had been holding in. “And…and the others?”

Subaru shrugged. “Not my problem, they are now in the Kingdom's hands and, more importantly, in Blue’s. The Karsten blueblood will validate their words so there’s no need to think of it as my problem.”

And so her tension and desperate energy ran out thanks to relief, causing her to drop to her knees in front of a Subaru that moved not to grab her. “Huh…the spell ran out. How are you feeling? Will I really need to reset over this?” Subaru groaned lightly as he scratched the back of his head. “Don’t be for real, please.”

“No…I…I can go on, Sir Pride.” Her body could not, in fact, go on. 

“...is that so?” Shrugging, Subaru turned around and started to walk, each step slower and smaller yet, for Sylphy, an image that threatened to disappear. Grunting, she tried to force her weakened body before the earth dragon next to her placed her head on hers. Patrasche’s gaze, allowing her to rest and focus on getting her heart and cold body under control.

After three more steps Pride stopped. After ten seconds he scratched his head. After twenty he turned around. Her defeated position hardened his gaze and he walked back to her. “Already slacking off, new recruit?” ‘Tsk’ing, he reached her and put her hands under her arms. Vela casted a tiny help and Subaru hoisted her up and put her on top of the earth dragon. Retracting his hands, the memory of his cold, cold first night in this country flashed by. He undressed his cloak and threw it to her face, almost knocking her out of the dragon. And so, done with that, he restarted his march.

As Patrasche followed behind, tail waving proudly, Sylphy could only stare in wonder at Pride’s back. He…he made no sense. Sylphy shook her head and dressed the cloak. Despite its appearance, it was warm and soft, too soft.

……

Seeing his new nemesis march away as if he, the Sword Demon, was such a non-problem that he could dare to turn his back towards him, Wilhelm limped towards his fallen sword. An enormous was evident on its edge, a parting gift of the deceased Gluttony. Next where the dagger and the insignia. And, despite not knowing if Felix was alright, if Crusch was still alive, if being unsure that Pride would not betray his word like he had just shown to be capable of doing, his gaze moved first to the place where the White Whale had disappeared from his life.

The pain in his body, his desperate grip on the hilt of his sword, his nails biting deep into his left palm, none of that was even noticed under the weight of this revelation. He had failed. Theresia would never be avenged. No…no, no, no. He could not believe that. These decades, the family he had left to rot in his obsession, the countless sleepless nights. He had not failed. He had been robbed. He had been sabotaged. By Pride, by the Witch Cult, by that very own whale. By his own blood, by his own granddaughter. 

All alone, right next to the enormous tree, Wilhelm felt too small. Defenseless. Powerless. With no longer any agency over his own actions. Yet, his discipline and warrior mentality moved him after five minutes of vigil. Turning around, he forced his limp away and marched towards his Lady, his duty, if cracked and now purposeless, still carrying him forward. He reached the cabin last, it now being surrounded by women that were now truly free.

He cared not for any single one of them thanks to the new fire of hatred that burned deep within, having combined with the old to merge into an overpowering bonfire. He strolled inside and helped Felix with freeing Crusch from her stone armour and firestones. Their orange glint in his hands, a tantalising view of that cursed orange. It took all of his willpower to not clench his hands and turn them to dust. The Whale was gone. Forever. But Pride remained and he would reach him and tear him limb from limb.

…

Finally done with helping put out the fires, the Sword Saintess jumped again to the sky, place where she had blocked those two distraction shells. Her sharp gaze looked all around the capital, she was quick to notice the tiniest glimpse of a small group. Her gaze sharpening, she let herself fall down again, landing softly in the midst of her fellow knights.

“Sword Saintess, did you see anything?”

A nod of her head and she jumped in that direction. Her flight was the only guidance the knights needed to try and rush behind her. A good fifth of the city around them, blackened skeletons and mountains of ash and dust. All around them, people grieving the loss of their possessions and homes. The knights steeled themselves. They must punch in retaliation or the affront to their honour and prestige would go unanswered.

Nevertheless, they were utterly unable to catch up to the too fast Sword Saintess and so she landed, alone, next to the Fluger tree. Her eyes noticed the weakened but healthy Crusch, an exhausted Felix, fifty one women, and… “Steemed Grandfather?”

The man slowly turned to her, eyes dead. In front of him, the only target he could blame for this outcome. She had all the power, all the skills, all the blessings…And yet she had let Pride go and rampage. She had let him fail. “You are late, Sword Saintess.”

She tensed up, that tone reminded her of when Heinkel got too drunk. Too angry. “My apologies, I…”

“Your apologies won’t bring back the death, the destroyed city. All of their futures.” His hand tensed up. A part of him knew he was making a mistake. He spoke the same. “How could I have ever thought that you could be enough? You will never manage to reach the woman you murdered.” His vitriol was not yet done. “I shall always regret when you became what you are, Sword Saintess.” Wilhelm turned away his gaze and marched past her, his glare a mirror to his new obsession.

Felix, helping Crusch walk, looked down, not having anything to say to console the Sword Saintess. She, herself, facing a storm inside her mind that was being destroyed by her Divine Protections. Her eyes did not shake nor tear up. Her hands were stable. No signs of any of the impact those words should have had. Truly…How could she be this monstrous? “Are you unhurt, Lady Karsten?” She hated how confident and even her words sounded.

A shaky nod. “I will survive. The wounds they inflicted on me were with that very same purpose in mind.” Her gaze flickered to the bodies around. Only dead Sin-Archbishops. “What I find most interesting is…what was Pride’s purpose today?”

Felix shuffled, not knowing either. The women all around looked at each other, not one having been told anything.

“...it matters now. Sword Saintess, if you may escort us to the palace? I need to rendezvous with the council as well as get these women a safe place to be treated.”

A nod.

…

Miklotov sat in the chairs that they had brought to the ceremony. His face pale, his gaze was on the city around. His hands, clenched on the chair, were the mirror of the dread his gaze held as he awaited the report of Bordeaux, who was pacing up and down in front of him as he listened to a conversation mirror. The four candidates in front, the spectators to this reunion.

Emilia, with Roswaal and Ram behind, was constantly shuffling on her seat, stealing glances from the destruction around as if she wanted to leave her chair and rush to heal the people around. Roswaal, arms crossed, perfectly hid his contentment with this result, already foretold by his gospel.

Anastasia, still guarded by an alert Julius, was already talking with her company through her conversation mirror. She had the tiniest bit of a feeling that wood, stone, buildings and earth mages would be in high demand in the capital and so she would be the first to deliver, taking advantage before the prices skyrocketed.

Crusch, a bit pale and letting a cough there and there, calmly sat next to Felix, the latter still examining her for secret or missed poisons that threatened her life. Her resolute gaze was on Bordeaux, ready to receive the horrid casualty report for the capital. How many thousands would have died? Wilhelm was not with her, having decided to do damage control on their manor.

Priscilla fanned herself, her knight behind her as casual as ever. Pride’s theatre had been, at the very least, somewhat entertaining and so she had not acted to stop it. The World itself had moved nor warned her not and she was growing bored, knowing that the report would not be something that would threaten her own position. Her gaze glinted as she remembered the madman that had dared to not even gaze at her in his crazed obsession. Yes, a worthy foe to vanquish.

Adelheid, right next to Emilia, as she had decided to vow herself her knight to protect her from the Witch Cult’s declaration, moved not. Had her diaphragm not been pushing and pulling her chest, she would have looked like a statue. Her cold eyes were on the conversation mirror, ready to count the cost for her failure of today.

After another hour, Bordeaux’s pacing stopped. “...what?”

All of the elders inched forward in the chairs.

“...that can’t be right, the conversation mirror must have failed. Repeat.” Another long pause as Bordeaux blanched. “What do you mean there have been no dead, only wounded?”

Emilia blinked and tilted her head. Anastasia’s conversation mirror was almost thrown out of her hand by a spasm. Crusch did not react, the strange acts of the Sin-Archbishop becoming a pattern. Priscilla’s gaze got more intense as the hunt turned more interesting.

“Re-repeat that, Elder Bordeaux.”

The warrior lowered his conversation mirror. “No death. Not at all. This was a show of superiority.” His gaze flickered to the half-devil. “A declaration of war. They wanted to terrify us into…what, doing their work for them, delivering the half-devil to them? They delivered no demands, no ultimatums, they only attacked, burnt our capital and stole from our armouries.”

Miklotov tapped on his lips. “Maybe this attack was the first one? One to replenish their numbers and weaponry via surprising us by taking the initiative?”

Bordeaux shook his head. “Makes no sense for them to go out of their way to deliberately kill nobody. It can only be called bizarre.” His hand closed the conversation mirror and, after pocketing it, fell on the hilt of his sword. “What we can expect is for a real war in the shadows. The underground will be widely contested, if it hasn’t already been taken control of by them. We have to raise the alarm and strengthen the Martial Law. We can’t let these cockroaches scutter beneath our feet or the next explosions may not be so charitable.”

The elder’s gaze moved to Emilia. “So it really was a plot to stop a half-elf they consider repulsive from reaching the throne? Is this an insult towards the prophecy of the Divine Dragon?” Miklotov’s fingers topped their tapping. “Their reasoning matters not, the kingdom has to win.” He turned to one of the knights, who stood taller and saluted. “Call for Russell, we will need his expertise for the rebuilding of the city.” ‘And the Six Tongues.’    

They saluted again and sped out.

“Apologies for interrupting your leadership, but I can’t really get it on my head, y’know?” Anastasia, closing her own conversation mirror, turned her sharp gaze towards Bordeaux. “Is the counting not yet done or the search ongoing? The Witch Cult have never cared for the devastation they cause…”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Have you yet to understand what this was about, merchant?” She shuffled on her chair and closed her fan. “This was a challenge. Pride has challenged the kingdom with this play of his. He has shown a passable ability to command his troops, above average courage and the proper wits of someone who lives in the shadows of that foolish group. This was a planned public humiliation. The kingdom’s history will forever be stained by such a folly of yours.” 

“With all due respect, the Witch Cult does not do challenges nor humiliation games, Lady Priscilla. They follow their cursed gospel to the letter and only that.” Bordeaux’s right hand opened and closed the conversation mirror continuously inside his pocket.

“Then what would you call today, fool?”

The old warrior fell silent.

“Exactly. That you lot are refusing to see the evidence in front is but a slight to this kingdom that must be purged by my own hands. And this transgression will not go unpunished, for they dared to ruin my presentation as the future Queen for their contemptuous self-introduction.” Al tapped the hilt of his sword behind her. That Sin-Archbishop had used expressions not of this world. He was an absolute risk that must be dealt with. But the battlefield must be prepared by himself and not by Pride.

“...what I can’t really understand are two things. The first is Pride killing both Greed and Gluttony.” Muttered Crusch, arms crossed in front of her. “They seemed to be on good terms, or as friendly as Sin-Archbishops can be, before he betrayed both for no apparent reason. He went as far as to call off the White Whale’s attack, it seemed.” The duchess frowned a tiny bit. “And the second thing is, why go so far to save the wives of Greed? By my Divine Protection they were unaffiliated with the Cult, ignorant of its inner workings, and victims of the Sin-Archbishop that forcibly married. And that leaves me to say that my kidnapping had no other possible reason…” ‘Least he lied during his presentation. Yet…where in his speech could he have?’ “...other than to save the women for their own sakes.”

Felix's tail wavered from side to side but he interjected not.

“Nonetheless, the women are being taken care of and will be given housing by my own hand. Still, the major problem we find ourselves in is what they stole in specific. They have taken control over all the artillery pieces in the capital, including the Night Banisher cannons, together with most of the armouries’ weapons and armours.” She shuffled on her seat. “While the nobility has not been affected, the Royal Forces will face severe shortages, I believe.”

“...a levy of the nobility or an emergency tax will be necessary.” 

“A tax?” One of the Elders interjected. “Miklotov, you can’t be serious! Who will be able to pay for it? Most of the people that lost their possessions today were the most well off of the lowerclasses! What are we going to do, go sack the slums? Should we implement an emergency tax, we will collect scraps while making an enemy of the entire capital!”

“Neither is an extra levy of noblemen sane!” A fourth entered the discussion. “We have lost face completely today and, worst of all, some of the manors of dukes have been damaged in the crossfire. If we try to force our luck we shall find our requests for men missing and unable to reach their intended targets! If we force too much, we may very well see them completely close down and refuse to pay their taxes this year!”

“Maybe the merchant class would be able to contribute?”

“Ah, and who will then deliver the goods to the capital? To tax them will slow down too much our recovery efforts to rebuild the damaged sections and autumn is around the corner! Should we not manage to repair it before winter…”

“Well, we can’t just do nothing!”

A cough stopped the council for falling further into disarray. The Sword Saintess shuffled on her place. “Elders, I believe we need to…”

A sixth council member pointed at her. “Don’t you dare say anything, Sword Saintess, your failure today h…” Under the glares of the rest of the council their reproaching was silenced.

Miklotov coughed. “You are right, Sword Saintess. We humbly apologise for our lack of decorum right now. We have shown the fourth Candidates our lowest and it shall not be repeated.” Miklotov caressed his beard. “What will the Royal Candidates do?”

Crusch bowed. “I will try to rally the nobility behind the reconstruction, Council of Wise men. I won’t promise to be able to fully support the idea of a levy, but I shall try to thread the line and heat the waters for a warmer reception.”

Priscilla snorted. “I shall care for my domain, fools. And I won’t be helping fix your own failures nor lack of ability. You should think about relegating your duties to me before you sink this country beyond repair.”

The Merchant Queen jumped off her seat. “This gal will try to keep her prices as low as I can without incurring a loss, Council of Elders. Beyond that, I can’t promise much as my company and guilds will be focusing solely on repairing the capital."

Emilia shrunk a tiny bit, not able to do anything grand nor meaningful. “The Emilia Camp will try to gather some earth mages, venerable council.” Roswaal, on the other hand, offered his connections. His fake tone of always, for once welcomed by everyone. “We can’t really leave the capital in such a sorry state now, can we?”

A thankful bow from Miklotov. “Thank you for your collaboration, Royal Candidates. We won’t forget your magnanimity.” Leaving his respectful stance, his gaze moved to Bordeaux while they retreated from the meeting. “Get our forces back in shape and do an inspection, we need to know what cards we have right now in our hands. Knights, men at arms, militia, our stock, we need to know the exact numbers. We will continue to survey the damage and we need to get in contract with the populace. What’s more, get all the reports of the merchants that entered the city and what carriages were further investigated, all of those firestones did not come from nowhere. Find the from where. Next…the Six Tongues will survey the underground. There must have been ripples and we will find those.”

And so the council started to work, forced into action by an entity that they had no idea what it actually wanted, the why nor the how.

…………

Chapter Text

Their walk was mostly silent, the steps of Patrasche and the sounds of Sylphy’s pained breaths were the only sounds apart from the crushing of dry leaves, sticks and puddles. Stealing glances backwards, Subaru clicked his tongue at her trembling. He had been too hasty in letting the Blue get away. Really, wasn’t his debt fully repaid and didn’t the Blue even owe him now? He readied his right hand to snap his fingers yet, after a few seconds, shook his head. Her choices, her consequences.

And so Pride focused on a step at the time, maintaining his cold expression and trying to tune out the noises behind. Thankfully, a new distraction was quick to show itself and Third, dressed in less voluminous and notorious clothes, appeared in front of him and kneeled. “We have found a disturbance. A caravan of carriages drove recklessly and-”

Content for the distraction, Pride shrugged, interrupting them. “I see. If you found it interesting I will trust you, Third. Guide us there, headmaster of the Night Stalkers.”

A bow and their small column, if the cultists were out of view and travelling inside the forest around instead of the road, turned slightly to the right in the direction of the Roswaal’s domain. At that Subaru frowned slightly. Five minutes in, and both boredom and hesitation slithering in, he raised a hand to stop the cultists before frowning as he noticed a toppled carriage on a pond of wasted oil. Next to it, a blue dragon was hissing at the half a dozen cultists stalking, in a semicircle, a wounded man.

Frowning, his hand lowered as he advanced towards it, the build of the man very similar to one he had once known. Blinking away the image of his first restart, he finally arrived in front of the carriage. “...dealer of death?!”

Otto, hand clenching his wounded side, frowned and pointed at himself. “Me?! Sir cultist, I believe you have the wrong person. Maybe if you could give me a desc…” He groaned, the piece of wood stabbed into his side shredding his flesh with his movements and breathing. Frufoo huffed and stepped on the ground, trying to glare them all away but unwilling to risk a fight against the increasing numbers of cultists.

Subaru gestured at Otto with his chin. “Get him treated.” And Sylphy, seated on Patrasche, blinked again, hands clenching his cloak. Her slowed mind, affected by the worst migraine of her life, had immense difficulties in understanding the sight in front. The six cultists bowed at Pride and sheathed their weapons. Patrasche huffed and Frufoo, after a few seconds, moved a step to the left.

“Wa-wait! I am fine, excellently fine at that, sir cultists, really!!” The cultists ignored him as they inspected his injuries. The piece of wood stabbed into his side, life threatening. Mild concussion, some bruises. A broken arm. It would take at the very least two months for him to be in running shape. With water mages…maybe two weeks. Otto tried to back into the carriage as they closed in further. “Really!! No need for…!!”

His panicked and pained screams made Frufoo growl and stomp several times on the ground. Subaru made no gesture nor his expression changed as copper was smelt again. He did not grimace as Otto roared in hurt when the shrapnel was mercilessly pulled out. One of the cultists cauterized the wound and now Subaru did grimace a tiny bit, the smell of cooking meat reminding him of the first time he had burnt the capital. The screams, the roar of fire, the coated in flames corpses in the ditches. The people tumbling out of the windows, bathed in reds and or-  He scratched his right arm as Otto’s pained breath substituted that smell.

He crossed his arms while Patrasche moved to stand at his right. Their column stood silent while the groaning merchant was patched up. Meanwhile, another twenty cultists examined the carriage. Totalled. Nothing to do there. His arm was put in a splint and one of the cultists cut a part of his clothing to tie it up to his neck. Very, very confused, the merchant was raised to his feet with unexpected care and finally found himself face to face with Pride.

“I never got your name, death dealer.” Stated Subaru, staring into Otto’s face. Grey hard covered in grim, blue eyes that were shaky and hazy, a hat in his right hand that was being squished, dumb if somewhat torn up green clothes. His expression, morphing through dozens of emotions. Too different from his usual apathetic face and self-hating gaze.

“O-Otto Suwen, sir cultist…” His eyes flickered to the maid at Pride’s right, looking fairly startled but looking like a normal person. Testing his treatment, he grimaced a bit despite his body hurting two thirds less. Blinking a bit, his gaze moved a bit to Frufoo, uninjured and slowly calming down, before returning to the man in front. “Yo-yours?”

Empty and cold dark eyes. Messy hair. A visage that was filled with apathy. Well built body. Fingers tapping on his arms as if it was a nervous tick. Two spirits orbiting around him. At that question that face broke into a sardonic smirk. “Talk about a change, huh. Guess debt can be that bad.”

“So…sorry?”

Another gesture and the cultists that had disarmed Crusch moved to Subaru, delivering the pocket money of the duchess onto Subaru’s extended hand. The coins clinked against each other as he measured the bag. Shrugging, and getting bored with the thought of counting it, he threw it at Otto, hitting his chest and causing him to panic as he tried to grab it without opening it. “No need to apologise de-...Otto.” His smirk widened a bit at his even more confused expression. “Fix that debt of yours, try to not end up a slave of Russell.”

“Wha-what?” ‘What debt?’

“And the name’s Natsuki Subaru, uncouth vagrant and enemy of the kingdom.” Bowing down deeply, Subaru moved his arms with that gesture, the lack of his cloak lessening the theatrics. “Nice to finally meet you, Otto. Hope this time we will remain enemies for your sake.”

Otto blinked a few more times, hand clenching around both bag and hat. “I…I don’t think we need to become enemies, sir Natsuki. I mean no harm.”

“It is better this way, Otto. Or would you be able to fight the world too?” Subaru left his bow, face back to apathetic. His eyes scanned Otto’s, finding the light of hope, of compassion, of love. His body language, protective over Frufoo. The Death Dealer had had a life he had enjoyed and wanted to live, huh… Blinking, Subaru forced a smile. “You know, Otto, do me a favour, alright? Continue on that road, Lord Roswaal should be able to help in your healing.”

“You…you aren’t really sending me to my death, are you now?” The silent cultists all around made Otto shrink a bit.

At that Subaru simply smirked. “And what if I told you that I am and that it was less of a favour and more of an order?” 

Sylphy shuffled on her seat, not missing a second of this conversation. The merchant fell silent for a few seconds, trying to examine the man in front. “I…would not believe you, sir Natsuki.”

And Pride blinked, smirk degrading into confusion. Ara and Vela started to flutter a bit. His tone grew lower and colder. “That’s an awful lot of delusion, Otto. You are talking to me, Natsuki Subaru. Recklessness will get you burnt.”

“...you say that name like it should scare me, sir Natsuki. But it…does not. At least not as much as you hope it does.” Otto shuffled, hand relaxing on his hat and new bag of coins. His eyes gained some confidence as he stared at Subaru. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Pride and his two spirits grew unmoving. “...do you hear yourself?” His eyes grew irate and he advanced a step, left arm striking the air as if trying to break the sight in front. “You are thanking a Sin-Archbishop! A Super-Villain! You are thanking me!”

Flinching at his rage, Otto lowered his face. Breathing in, he faced him again. “Yes, I am. And I don’t think you have been thanked much so I will do it again. Thanks, sir Natsuki.”

A wave of wind ruffled the leaves of the nearby trees. Ara and Vela returned to his shoulders. All of the cultists, silent yet observing. Sylphy’s scared gaze dug into Pride’s back, not knowing what he would do. “We are done here.” And he chose to retreat. Turning around, the column all around him resuming their movement, he soon sped up. Patrasche did so after throwing a dismissive yet thankful look at Otto. Sylphy nodded at the marchant, her face stony.

And Otto watched them retreat from whence they came. The why would appear to be unanswerable but, today, his life remained thanks to the Witch Cult that had worked him in such a frenzy that he had gone a bit too fast. It balanced itself out, maybe? His hand clenched the coins. He hated debts.

……

The campfire’s light, and Ara’s inside it, reflected on Pride’s eyes, his stare lost on it. Far away from the capital for it to be safe, the first hot meal in an entire day was being heated in front of him, not that his gaze left the fire as the pot started to sizzle and boil. Broth consisting of dried jerky and some fish they had managed to get, the appetising smell bypassed his mind as it did with the cultists around, all of them either standing or sitting silently.

The grumble of a stomach made him blink. Confused at first, he turned towards Sylphy, stony expression not revealing her internal embarrassment. “My a…”

Shaking his head he got off the floor, shaking Vela from his lap and making it fly to follow him. That motion interrupting her, he grabbed a plate and approached the food. “Do you always apologise for everything, Sylphy? Stop it. It is annoying.” Ignoring his own words that had come as little more than a growl, he readied her plate and grabbed some water, a spoon and a napkin, putting them all on a trail. Moving next to Patrasche, he sat the trail on the bench that the cultists had brought and, raising, crossed his arms.

Sylphy, her expression the same, shrunk a bit. “I…” She frowned a tiny bit. “I am unable to dismount the earth dragon.”

“Why?”

“...” She gulped, not knowing how to reveal her new weakness. Her legs were unfeeling if tingling a bit. Her body felt like lead, too cold to move. Her heart, difficulties gone, was still having trouble readjusting to beating by itself. Her Od, struggling to recover. She had overworked herself and was paying the price. She shrunk further, the usual fear stopping her from showing her uselessness out o-

“I see…” Gaze sharp, he examined her body. He snapped his fingers and advanced towards Patrasche, who lowered herself a bit to help him pick a startled Sylphy. His arms grasped her with confidence and feigned apathy and he helped her sit down on the bench. “Next time ask for help from the get go. Don’t have me waste time.” Leaving her side, he returned to his place next to the campfire, the metal sounds of the cutlery at his left not making him jump.

“...Sir Pride, are you not eating?”

He blinked, head leaving his hand. How long had he spaced out for? Not answering, he grabbed a plate himself and started to eat. Vela, after a few minutes, sat back on his lap and he started to pat it softly.

“May I ask where we are going?”

His movements paused a small bit, not used to being questioned nor small talk. “...towards the Black Fortress of Orion, near Cramlin and inside Mount Condor. There you will be given a room and I will teach you the ropes of your work.” He side-eyed the cultists working on a construct. “I need to plan for a special celebration for the New Year, search for the place for another Black Fortress, get the infiltrations of the underground, deal with the Six Tongues…” He stopped to taste a bit of the soup, Sylphy listening intently. “...ready the battleground against Aldebaran, Wrath, Lust, the last two Gluttonies and a few more happenstances that may or may not occur. Of course, this is just the objectives the Cult must move towards. Our work in Orion, Cramlin and the capital will continue.”

“I see. And how will I help with that, sir Pride?”

A long pause. “...what do you want to do?”

“I…I had thought you would employ me as a maid, sir Pride. I have had no opportunities to learn any trade apart from carpentry. I, of course, am willing to learn but to do such a thing would take time and deprive you of my utility.”

“So you want to act as my maid?” Subaru shrugged, plate half finished. “I can’t say there will be a lot of rooms for you to clean but suit yourself.” His gaze lowered to the floating pieces of meat on the plate. A crooked smirk grew on his face. “But you will not have that much time. If you are that willing to learn you will be taught with proportional severity, Sylphy. You wanted to join the team, yes? Then you will pull your weight. You will learn fencing, strategy, mathematics…All things that someone as powerless as you needs to know. All that a right hand needs to know.”

“Right hand?” She blinked as his mocking gaze turned to her.

“Are you giving up already?”

Sylphy tensed up. “If you will forgive me for speaking bluntly, I did not spend decades in hell itself to balk at intellectual labour, sir Pride.”

Chuckling darkly, his eyes returned to the fire. Hell? “Brave, aren’t we?” His words died and he wavered a bit while Sylphy focused back on her food. Her stolen glances of the Sin-Archbishop noticed him flinch with every small crackling of the fire as he whispered something about timing. His face and gaze, despite that, was cold, unpitying, unforgiving. She hugged herself with the cape, unwilling to risk a new conversation. She fell asleep on the bench. She woke up inside a tent.

………

Returning to Orion and crossing its new, stony gates, Subaru, spirits on his shoulders and his own hand pushing a wheelchair with a stony faced ex-wife on it, was welcomed by three hundred new recruits. In front of them, a kneeling Eight, a cross-armed Elsa and a frowning Meili were staring at him. A small smile forming itself, Subaru grew a smirk and, leaving the construct, mockingly bowed down at the three of them, cloak fluttering behind. “The prodigal Pride returns unharmed…” With practised speed and reflexes, Pride unsheathed his dagger and parried Elsa’s throw. “...I assume that you did a good job watching over the Black Fortress?” The parried dagger went down and Subaru snatched it with a confident yet teasing gesture.

Elsa’s smirk grew a bit more honest. “It is as you say, Sin-Archbishop. Cramlin is ours. If you gave the word the garrison would fly the Flaming Hand. There’s nothing more to secure, so I humbly ask, where is our next mission?”

At her words his smile grew crooked. “Glad to hear you are eager to start. It will be the mining city of Ganacks.” Subaru returned to Sylphy’s chair and started to push it, seemingly uncaring to meet the new recruits. “We will combine securing that city with building the Ophiuchus Black Fortress amongst the tree crows of the Elio Forest. We will harvest the witchbeasts there for poisons and parts. The mana storms will be tricky but I have a plan for that.” His gaze went to the new recruits. Most of them were demihumans, as was most of the Witch Cult. “It will be a nice base of operations inside the Mather’s domain and, while it will be a longer trek, it will interact with Custuul with less risk than us. The supply route to send the glintstones and the more will be,” Subaru’s smirk widened fully as he pointed down. “, via underground. We have around fifteen earth mages, yes?”

Elsa blinked, conjuring the map of Lugunica in her mind. “A very…cautious choice.”

“The farther away the secondary fortress is from the Van Astreas, the better.” His smirk vanished as if it had never been there. “Plus, the incensed underground in the city will make for great recruitment potential. Setting up the Fortress via normal means will also take longer, allowing the earth mages to finish their job. Lastly, there are no great rivers so we won’t have a real problem while digging out the tunnel.” The Black Fortress of Orion was, after all, a bit of a gamble. Fairly close to the capital, he relied more on the choice being too unexpected and on the nose to be properly investigated. Nonetheless, the permanent fact of the real danger would always remain. No Fortress would win against Adelheid should it get discovered.

Eight left their kneeling position and joined Elsa and Meili in following. “Both me and Meili will be in charge of subjugating Ganacks underground, I take?”

A nod, the sounds of the wooden wheels on wood tainting their conversation a bit. “You will make the undercity bend to Zurvan’s will. You will report twice daily, one in the morning and one at midnight.” 

Two nods and Eight interjected. “I guess that the Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks will accompany the two of them?”

“No. You will go to the slums in the capital and see how the situation develops together with the Word Bearers. I will not be the excuse they utter in case the city falls into a famine or rampant cold.” Tone cold and steel, Sylphy shuffled on her wheelchair.

Eight took half a second too much in answering. “We will follow your will, Sin-Archbishop. Do we have permission to recruit?”

A nod. “You will leave in a week. Ready the company…it should have doubled in numbers, right? Add whatever volunteers Cramlin will offer. It should be receiving a wave of migration and the news of the fire. Take advantage of that and spread Emilia’s name. We do not really need to watch over the growth of the city ourselves, for Minerva will do finely. She is a good administrator when she is not cheating in the budgeting.”

The gate opened and both assassins and the maid turned to it. There, three cultists were carrying a full body painting, 1:1, of Adelheid Van Astrea in a victorious pose. Meili tilted her head, Elsa blinked and Sylphy coughed loudly. 

“Oh, finally! It took you long enough. Drop it and I am kicking you out of the cult.”

The three cultists tensed up and reinforced their grasp on it, careful to not harm it.

“Um, sir Pride? Why…did you buy a painting of the Sword Saintess?”

“Well, my bedroom was looking empty and a bit of knife throwing practice would be entertaining.” Was the off-hand response as Sbuaru’s gaze traced the painting as it moved across the Black Fortress.

“...I…understand?” Sylphy’s gaze flickered between the painting and the Sin-Archbishop. Eight uttered no response nor question, unwilling to think about the why. Elsa frowned, not understanding what type of madman would commission, pay and hang a painting of their nemesis on their bedroom just to throw knives at it in their free time.

“Can I have one too!?”

“Buy your own, Meili-tan.” Subaru sped up. “Now, if you will forgive me, that painting needs its first test and I am dying to indulge it.” His gaze moved behind his throne room. Next to his bedroom a new one had been built. “Sylphy, hope you enjoy your new room. Anything you need, use the conversation mirror. Your dinner will be brought after a small while.” Uncaring for her startlement, Subaru opened the door to her bedroom and pushed her in, closing the door behind. “Careful with going through the door or each one of you is losing a hand!”

And so Sylphy found herself alone in her room. Hands on the wheels of her wheelchair, she pushed herself forward a bit. Around her, a fifteen per fifteen room welcomed her. Light blue walls and white ceiling, it had two bookshelves filled with some of the books Pride’s faction had carried here. Most were about agriculture, earth magic and theology, the latter all around the Witch of Envy, origins of the Witch Cult and cultist doctrine. A table, chairs, a few couches, an enormous dresser with black uniforms and a few dresses, her bed was twice the one Regulus used and had some plushies and plenty of cushions. The rocky ground, covered in soft and warm carpets.

This was not really a room but a small suite. Feeling a bit small, Sylphy moved herself to the bed and helped herself to sit on it. The mattress and covers, soft and warm. Unmoving and staying silent for a few seconds, she blinked. Once, twice. She…she was not understanding anything.

Her gaze moved to her right, where Subaru’s own room stood. She had asked and learnt about what had happened in the capital, his utterances and promises. And she had no idea what kind of man Subaru was. A pitiless murderer that went out of his way to not kill innocents. A savage brute that decorated his underling’s rooms. A delusional madman with too clear and sharp a mind. A Super-Villain that had helped her eat and even carried her through some of the trip. A terrifying monster that felt like a lost man. If she opened the dictionary in her room, she was sure an image of him would appear if she searched for the definition of ‘Contradiction’.

“I…don’t understand you…” Cold yet soft. Apathetic but warm. Death incarnate that had saved all of her acquaintances and herself. “...and I it is not wise but…I want to try.” After another pause Sylphy returned to her chair and moved to the table, now a makeshift desk. She grabbed a book.

…

“A bit more to the right…No, not that much! Left. Right. Right! A bit mooo-Perfect!!”

The cultists, cold sweat running down their backs, backed away from the painting right in front of the bed. The sight of the monster in front, making them squeamish. 

“Thanks guys, have a nice night.” The monster at their back wished them a good rest and so they bowed and left the room. Subaru’s enraged gaze moved to the painting, a wave of silence letting him view it in full.

The dragon sword was a literal work of art. The runic engravings, its sharp edge, its mere volume dwarfing the small drake that was rushing towards the hero as bloodthirst incarnate. Her cape, bellowing behind her, golden and red, complimenting the cascade of shining and perfect hair of hers. Her legs, armoured, stood unwavering in the battlefield. Her back, an unbreaking column that would never bend to adversity, its armour hidden beneath the shadows of the cape. Her arms, gripping the dragon sword with unbreaking, unbending, unending strength, were ready to hold up the entire world to save it. To protect it. Her thorax, mostly in view thanks to the point of view of the painted, shadowed in pure silvers and goldens as if they were a mirror of the virtues behind. Justice, kindness, purity. A knight through and through. A hero through and through.

Lastly was her face, only half being able to be seen. Her cold eyes were the icy blue of glaciers, the carpet that covers the early spring streams, the shallow water of the unpolluted oasis and lakes deep in the wild forests. And, despite their aloftness, they were as protective as glaciers were of the fauna that lived on them, as the streams that granted the fish their home. The same refuge and salvation that oasis were. The same comforting reality a lake of drinkable water was. Soft ice. A warm winter.

Or at least that was for the artist, for there was a second viewpoint. That of the drake. The casual cruelty of glaciers capsizing ships and sending their crew to the icy waters below. The death sentence that was a cold early winter stream, that icy cover, a trap that seemed too robust to break. The lake holding a lethal witchbeast below. Unbreaking ice. Unrelenting winter. Frostbite. Two realities that coexisted thanks to the different beholders that stared at the Sword Saintess.

A hand went to his neck and caressed it while Pride, crossing his legs, stared still at the painting and saw none of that. His gaze saw Adelheid, a young woman forced by the world to carry a weight too enormous for a single person. Legs that she allowed not to shake not of iron will but of guilt. Shining clothes and armour to mask herself in the veneer of the sight that the world had forced her to be, in the veneer of the Sword Saintess, of a hero. Arms carrying the sword that had murdered her grandmother and torn her family apart. Thorax hiding behind a heart she refused to allow to beat out of a sense of duty. A pair of eyes that could not look at herself without seeing the monster that, in her mind, deserved all of these weights.

“...contemptible…” Unsheathing one of his knives, he took aim at that detestable head of the nemesis that was suddenly now his fold. That was now a mandatory part of his journey. One that he had needed to learn about and refused to think about. There were no similarities. There could not be any pity. He despised the woman in front for, despite her monstrous strength, even she was unable to break her self-imposed chains. “Od below…”

He lowered his knife, finally remembering the one rule about blades. You do not throw them at stone. The knife dropped from his hand and he hid his face behind his hands. His two spirits appeared, now confused, and stared as he scratched his head. “I forgot to put a plank of wood behind before hanging it!!” Indeed he had. To throw the knives now would be to damage them most gravely and he had not a forever stock.

His motions stopped. The spirits, a bit worried, moved to him and Pride, sighing deeply, started to pat them. Welp, now he had her painting on his wall. At least it would be a good reminder of his hate. Still, as he was not feeling sleepy he opened a drawer and pulled out his diary. Adelheid’s Investigation Journal. The book, almost filled up, had all the results of his two month long investigation. And it was looking like he would need a second book for there was quite a lot more to fill up. Shrugging, he opened it and started to write Wilhelm’s reaction. It never hurt to be prepared, after all.

………

A knock on her room didn’t make Sylphy wane in her concentration. Two books already finished on her desk, she was gunning to be done with the third. The knocking got more aggressive and Sylphy looked to the door just as a pissed off Subaru rammed through it. “Sylphy. It’s been a week!”

“Indeed it has, sir Pride.” She flipped another page of her economics book. Blinking, she turned her apathetic expression towards her liege. “Is something wrong? You appear to be infuriated.”

“...do you know why I am mad, Sylphy?” Walking forward, he grabbed her wheelchair and uncaringly pulled her away from her desk, having noticed the mocking glint in her eyes yet one that had accepted that her free time ended. 

“Sir Pride, I was busy so if you could kindly wait f-”

“No, I am not waiting!” And so Subaru, not minding the book that had dropped from her hands, he started to drive her out of her bedroom. “Had I known that calling for a water mage to see to your healing would give you the excuse to spend six entire days holed up inside your room doing nothing but studying and exercising I would have asked you to walk this condition off!”

“But, sir Pride, I am capable of walking short distances already and in two days should be back in full capab-”

“They said a month, Syl. I don’t care about your ‘Tomorrow I will start cleaning up.’ or ‘It does not hurt, sir Pride, I have tolerated far greater pain, if of the emotional kind.'” His voice, perfectly mimicking her, made her shuffle on her wheelchair thanks to the uncannily good performance. “You are taking a break. God damn it, I didn’t even get to give you a tour yet.” Moving her to the stair case, she blinked. There was a…ramp?

Not caring for her surprise he pushed her down, not willing to risk her forcing herself to walk down the staircase. “How can my maid, the maid of a Super-Villain, not even know about her own base.”

“Sir Pride, you have shown me the maps and the designs.”

“Seeing it in person is way different. Trust the process.” Subaru ignored the cultists that were moving up and down the stairs. Sylphy, however, nodded at them. And so their gospels changed and they bowed back, some waving and others even making more lifelike gestures. The gospel commanded and so they moved with vitality and even kindness. They may not know the why nor the for but they still moved so.

“Sir Pride, I don’t think it is wise to lower me to the fungi farms or else you will be carrying back a trail of dirt that will have to get cleaned up on the way up.” She shuffled again. This past week had been…beyond strange. Her gaze moved up to the Sin-Archbishop that her words had stopped and one who was seriously considering them.

“...fine. But I am showing you the recreation room.” His eyes shone up in redoubled fervor, as if having been granted the excuse to justify that mistake to someone. And so Sylphy returned her gaze to the front as they kept moving. No, she still did not understand him. Noticing her wavering emotions, Vela moved out of Subaru and flew onto her lap. Her hand moved by instinct and started to pat the spirit.

Even this new habit of hers she could not believe, born out of the time spent together as Subaru was the one carrying her her meals and who went as far as to eat with her. “...I have to wonder, sir Pride…”

“Yes, Syl?” His tone, light if still a bit incensed.

“Are you sure it is wise to spend so much time on myself?”

He shrugged, the gesture moving the chair a bit. “Looping gives me all the time I could ever waste. Everything has been accounted for and these coming days will be a marvellous show.”

“I…I don’t understand. Sh-Show?”

“There’s no need for you to do it. You will be taken care of during our absence.”

“...Sir Pride, I believe I will be coming with you. Or was your talk about me becoming your right hand just empty talk?”

“You…you say it now?!” Steps coming to a sudden halt, the inertia caused Sylphy to move forwards, having to grab onto the chair to stop herself from diving forwards. “Do you know how much more time you are going to make me…!!” Subaru started to scratch his head as Sylphy turned to him. 

“My ap-”

“Fine!” He sighed, her apology being cut off like always, not like Sylphy remembered most other times. He despised when she apologised for nothing. “You can come. I will keep you safe. But you could have said it a while ago.” He blinked and turned to her. “Wait…why did you say it this time around?”

Sylphy tilted her head at him, a bit worried but not seeing anything apart from a gaze from the Sin-Archbishop that was devoid of aggression, just honest curiosity. “Sir Pride, I don’t know what you are talking about. What are you referring to this time…ar-und?”

Subaru shook his head and kept pushing her wheelchair forward. “Nevermind that.” His eyes glinted in old uttered challenges as they entered the recreation room. “We are here.” And so he lost once again as they entered. The inside, filled with cultists in their mandatory breaks, either standing around or just seated.

Sylphy blinked and Subaru frowned. And so almost a hundred gospels found a new writ in themselves and all of those cultists in front suddenly moved and started to enjoy their afternoon. Sylphy shuffled, frowning now too at the forced spectacle in front.

“That’s fucking better.” Subaru’s eyes, a glint of red in them, mirrored the internal rage that had accumulated through dozens of loops witnessing the same failed spectacle of always. It had mortified him to see half of his faction seemingly drop dead one day and the rest the next. Nobody had told him that cultists would willingly overwork themselves to death while on duty if they were not allowed to go back to their masking in their normal lives. And so that nasty surprise had almost made him choke Eight, who had been as baffled as him.

At the very least, while an enormous problem, its solution had been fairly easy. Impose a tyrannical and forced schedule. A maximum of eight hours of work, four during the morning and four during the evening, a forced eight hours of sleep and five daily meals. The positive? The recreation room now saw an enormous amount of use. The negative? The recreation room now saw an enormous amount of the wrong use.

“Now, which game do you want to play?” His playful words were countered by the angered look he still had, even if a majority of it melted away once his attention moved back to her.

“...that chess board is certainly big.”

“I knew you would like it.” Snickering a bit, he pushed her towards the black pieces without even asking, as if he had known she preferred to have the second turn. Snapping his fingers Eight, having been looking at them, was the one to move and stand next to Sylphy to move the pieces that were maybe a bit too big.

Subaru, moving first, started his aggression. Just as the piece hit its new position he frowned. What was he doing right now? In what way did this waste of time help his mission? In what way did this help Emilia? He blinked again. Would a super-villain, would a Sin-Archbishop of Pride, waste his time playing around? As he lightly shook his head, he looked up to a now lightly worried Sylphy. Worried for him. His anger flared again. “No need to worry about me as if I would kneel over and day at any time, Syl. That’s more of your thing.” 

She tilted slightly her head, surprised at both him having noticed through his apathetic visage that she was worried and at his new resentment. “But, sir Pride, it is the job of a maid to worry about their lord.” And there it was, that tiny tension. The exact same as when that merchant had thanked him. The exact same he always had when she did. Her start matched him in proactiveness.

“But, Syl, you are the right hand of a Sin-Archbishop. You should not worry,” A rotten smirk appeared again, his usual mask. “, you should be readying yourself for your eventual betrayal.”

Sylphy answered not as she commanded Eight to move according to her will. “...you speak of a betrayal as if mine was set in stone, sir Pride.” The board, slightly advantageous to Pride, the constant repetitions during the loops he got too bored having matured his skills.

“Is it not, Sylphy? Or do you think mine isn’t?” A hearty laugh that sounded fake to her. The game continued for a few more moves.

“...seeing as how I am allowed to speak honestly, sir Pride, I shall do so. Mine betrayal will not happen unless you become another hus-, another Regulus.” The click of her pawn, moved by Eight, was as usual. Pride’s was a bit too forceful. “And yours would be wholly accepted by me, for my life and soul are in your hands.”

“...is that so…” Subaru stopped. “So you would accept my betrayal, huh.” His stare moved to her. “You think you can trust me, huh. You think that I am less evil than that bastard, that I wouldn’t dare to, alright. You think that I am worthy of holding your life in your hands? Alright. Alright, alright!” Ara and Vela fluttered again, worryingly rotating around him as his mental state deteriorated. “Then, kill yourself right now.” The words, enveloped in venomous hatred.

Sylphy tilted slightly her head. Her hand grabbed her black steel dagger, courtesy of Pride. As she raised her arm Eight grabbed it, stopping its ascension. Sylphy blinked at that and turned to the cultists, her gaze searching for a reason. They had moved according to the gospel. The sound of pieces being knocked over made her jump and turn back towards its source. There, Regulus was rushing towards her. His cruel hands grabbed onto her collar and pulled her out of the chair, causing…not causing pain?

“Do not dare!” Was the roar that shattered that illusion. Behind, a truly enraged Subaru stood in front. “Do not trust my words, do not obey me, do not dare to believe me worthy of your life!” Sylphy blinked at the honesty behind the words. Subaru, after a few seconds, started to laugh. His acting, perfect. Almost perfect. The actress in front, able to see through it all the same. “Or is that what you wanted me to say, Syl?” 

He let go and she fell back on her chair. His tone, as cold as winter. Bored. Prideful. “Props for the foolish loyalty. But, remember, you are not my true right hand, my true maid. Not a friend, not an acquaintance. You are a tool for Pride, you are a tool for the enemy of Lugunica. You are entertainment. Nothing more, nothing less. A cultist, a number. Remember this, always. You would do well in using those smarts of yours and start planning your betrayal. Entertainment is always short around here. So, please, finally realise that I am worse than the Sin-Archbishop of Greed. That I am more evil, even if I let you have your life out of whimsy.”

“M-”

“And stop apologising already!” This snap, as real as the start of the one just before. Scratching his head as he shook it, Subaru turned around and left with hurried steps, his two spirits flying right behind him.

Sylphy observed as his back shrunk and exited the room. The cultists around, still in a facsimile of life, joined in her observation before slowly returning to their new duty. After a few seconds she looked down at her clothes, inspecting the creases in her clothes. Even in that anger, he had not gone as far as to break her clothing. What had carried him to this breakdown?

Her hand moved to the board, now in chaos. These past days he had seemed…almost normal during their meals. ‘Loop, this time around, all the time I could ever want, the strange closeness…Was Pride’s Authority to travel through time?’ Her gaze filtered some pity into it. A most lonely power, it seemed.

Eight, still grabbing her arm, coughed loudly. “Miss Sylphy, if you may let go of that dagger…Do know that this action that was asked from you is not in the gospel and so it is no action that needs to be done.”

A slow nod and Sylphy let go of the blade. Eight also did, their hold being the one that had been painful. “I got lost in thought, my a…I intended not to follow through anymore.”

A non-committal nod. “On another topic, you will need to be prepared for tomorrow’s trip, for we are heading towards Sanctuary.” The hands of Eight went to her chair and carried her away with no empathy, filled with professionalism. For the cultists she was merely a job. “I will brief you on the way up if you do not mind.”

“Of course not, miss Eight.”

Another empty nod. They would have explained the same had she minded. “The current objective is Sanctuary, place where the Emilia camp is currently undergoing a trial of sorts together with the Sword Saintess. Our objective is to destroy the tomb and so most of our mages will be coming too. We will fake a defeat and retreat. One of the Iron Believers will depart from us and go deliver the Sin-Archbishop of wrath a missive from Pride. Your job shall be witnessing Pride’s performance that will usher a new wave of entropy across the kingdom.”

“I understand.” Sylphy, thinking deeply about today, let silence remain as Eight pushed her up the ramp. “A question, may you train me in swordplay?”

“That is not within my gospel and so it is not mine to give.”

“...can it really not be done, miss Eight?” Sylphy shuffled as the seconds passed without an answer. “I desire to…” What did she desire? What was she doing here? Her frown lessened as her gaze gained some coldness, highlighting the violet in her eyes. “For I wish to save Pride from himself as he did for me.”

Eight’s steps crawled to a stop. Her words choked between each other. As they looked down, they met a resolute, not empty, living gaze. “...to not teach you is also not in the gospel so I am also not prohibited from doing so.” She gave her a very slow nod. “I will see what I can do without worsening your condition.” They restarted their march.

“Thank you, miss Eight.” 

She skipped a step.

……

Sylphy examined her new, black uniform. Similar to a knight’s uniform, it hid the lamellar armour below. Not the best, it was, nonetheless, one of the better ones that the cult could get her hands on. Ignoring the effort that standing cost her, she rotated a bit. More of a warriors look than a maid, the armour did a good job of hiding the woman below, its shadows giving her an air of danger. A nod and she patted her rapier. She was ready, if just a novice.

As she slowly left the room, a cross-armed Subaru was glaring death at her. “I…”

“Patrasche or the chair. You are not walking there.” As if his outburst of yesterday had not existed, his fingers tapped his arms in annoyance trying to badly hide the worry below.

Sylphy looked down. “The chair, if I may be able to pick.”

…

The march having been slightly slowed down thanks to Sylphy coming with them, it took almost two days to reach Sanctuary. Three hundred cultists, with all of the Iron Believers in that group to deal with both maids and Garfiel, their small army reached the magical barrier.

It was a nasty choice for, once they step inside, most of these forces would remain trapped inside. Just when Subaru was going to nod, that problem disappeared for the Tomb itself did. Subaru and Sylphy blinked and gazed, the latter opening her mouth in awe, at the enormous slash of explosive power that had torn through it, exploding the structure and sending a rain of dirt, stone and different materials. Truly a slash that had cut through the sky. “This…this had not happened last time.” As Subaru uttered those words, Sylphy coughed some of the dirt that she had had the fortune of swallowing.

...............

Chapter Text

Pride’s expression grew colder. “New plan, fan out. Secure the surroundings and nab whichever hostages you can. Ignore the Ryuzus. Iron believers, with me. Fourth, protect Syl.” And so the two hundred and fifty cultists rushed out while forty nine lined behind Pride in formation as he strolled forward. 

“Sir Pride?!?!” Sylphy, in her wheelchair, tried to move forward but Fourth’s iron grip stopped her from moving forward. “I will remember this!!”

Subaru waved at her without turning around, gaze cold and determined as they sped up to rush through the forest. It took only a few minutes for them to cross a startled village that erupted into wide panic as the forces of Witch Cultists, armed to the teeth and looking ready for war, rushed through the middle of the town while some of their comrades dived into homes. Screams shrouded their next few steps as they finally arrived at the desolation point.

An enormous crater was all that remained of the once ancient construct that housed the body of the Witch of Greed. The titanic depression would have been able to house all of the buildings they had passed on their way here. Blinking, Subaru looked all around. Chunks of stone that had torn through the forest, some of it burning and starting small fires; an enormous grove that had carved a part of the forest in the direction of that monstrous swing; and a cloudless sky in that direction, every atmospheric and weather phenomenon having been destroyed under its rage.

Blinking, his gaze, one that had even skipped over Emilia struggling to get off the ground next to the crater, locked onto the cause of the problem. Wavering, gait unsteady, legs wobbly, Adelheid was struggling to back away from the trial she had just undergone. Eyes glassy and unsure, Subaru watched the ice that had been cracked. Her hands, trembling, were grabbing the hilt of a sword that was without its blade, it having turned to dust in that unthought swing. Her stance, broken. Her back, slightly bent, out of her usual confident posture.

“What…what is the Witch Cult doing here?!” Subaru blinked, not recognising the voice but unable to tear his gaze apart from his nemesis. In all of his years of trial, of preparing, even after their great confrontation, this was what had caused her to waver? To lash out? To finally look defeated, unsure? A fucking bulding made out of simple, normal rock?! His hands clenched, his gloves crying out in strain. His gaze, two burning rubies. “Hey?! I am talking to you, you bastard!!”

Subaru extended his arms, a not so perfect smirk on his face as he advanced a step, cloak shining its dangerous orange. “Cheers, Adelheid! I had come here to m-” Garfiel, tired of being ignored and halfway recovered from Adelheid’s snap, got off the floor and stomped on the ground, sending a wave of rocks towards the Sin-Archbishop.

Fifth, ready to engage, jumped in front of Pride and slammed their tower shield in front of them, blocking the magic attack that dented the normal iron, bludgeoning the shield and bending it in half. Growling, the quarter demi-human advanced with broken balance towards the Sin-Archbishop. At that forty eight of the Iron Believers fanned out, halberds readied, and rushed to engage the boy, securing him inside a circular formation with three rows of steel edges ready to cut and stab into the boy. Screaming in anger, the boy started his beastification, receiving a couple stabs due to it.

Fifth and Forty-Nine escorted their leader when Pride advanced another step, uncaring for the new fighting at his right. “-make quick work of that disgraceful building and you are so kind as to do it for me?” His smirk got worse as Adelheid, still confused, turned to him. The flash of her panic banished his smirk. All of the surrounding mana was drained from the atmosphere as the woman in front jumped forward, snatching Pride, his two spirits still on him, in a tenth of a second and without his two guards being able to react.

The sound of breaking trees behind as Adelheid rammed through the forest made neither Fifth nor Forty-Ninth turn to it. Their gospels, silent. Instead, both turned to the enraged tiger that was trying to break through the encirclement he found himself in. A roar and he slammed his pawns on the ground, sinking the ground unevenly and turning it into a muddy playfield. Opening its mouth, it aimed to bite the face of a cultists off before a halberd slashed it, causing the attack to miss.

Another roar was interrupted by four slashes and seven stabs, the mud being unable to affect all of the trained cultists. And so the three circles of cultists around Garfield closed in, shoulder to shoulder. Their formation a spear wall that continuously nicked and stabbed. Every time the tiger lashed out and tried to attack, the wall bent backwards and its other side pressed forwards. Their weapons, three rows of long reach weapons that continually pestered at the tiger by attacking through the windows every movement of his created. A tortuous trap that closed and stalked around him. His only option was to jump directly up, lest he risk slamming against the halberds, stabbing the blades deeply into himself.

Still, his rough skin and tenacious regeneration together with the no-kill rule stopped the cult from finishing the warrior before he recovered from the aftermath of Adelheid’s power. And so, unwilling to be led by the nose, he chose to slam his pawns against the ground again, making it tremble, crack and separate, knocking most of the cultists around out of their balance and sinking a few into it. His next roar was met by three arrows shot from longbows hitting his forward legs and making him back a step so as to inspect the threats around.

Some of the tree crowns around had some longbowmen. Most worrying was the sight below them where cultists were pushing tied up villagers. His anger increased tenfold and he charged forward, colliding against the Iron Believers whose lines had been broken. A swing and five of those cultists were thrown to the air, gravely wounded thanks to their armour. A second and another six joined. Yet, the lack of response as the death circle was undone by itself causing his attention to divert back to the trees. The tiger stopped in his tracks when all of the cultists pulled their daggers out and on the villagers’ necks. 

A sliver of panic infiltrated his mind and his gaze moved backwards, seeing an unsure Emilia that had dispelled her ice hammer. Her battle readiness and courage, having been devoured by the week of repeatedly braving the trials. And so the boy found himself in a losing battlefield all around. Unwilling to give up, he readied himself to jump again. The whimpering of one of the villagers was a stop sign. Garfiel slowly cancelled his beastification, reducing back to his human form. Meanwhile, the injured Iron Believers backed away and the thirty seven left returned to a three row formation, halberds aimed at him but not engaging.

Garfiel backed towards Emilia, fearful and somewhat out of it. “...what do you lot want here?”

Fifth undid the straps of their tower shield and it slammed onto the ground. Right hand on their sword, they advanced a step. “We arrived to destroy the…” The gospel was updated and they looked down to it. “It seems our work is already done.” Grabbing back the tower shield, they bowed and started to retreat.

Garfiel blinked and stared in extreme confusion as the cultists turned around and got ready to run away. Fifth, reaching the trees, stabbed the stomach of one of the villagers and threw it towards the boy, forcing Garfiel to rush forward and start to heal them. A last bow and Fifth retreated together with the cult. The other the cultists, carrying the hostages and breaking into two groups. One that would meet up with Pride and another that would leave the hostages in Elior Forest. The fire mages, setting themselves around the forest for a last trick.

……

The sheer potency of Adelheid’s jump had broken through the sound barrier. Dodging most disturbances while the wind that the warrior had racked up toppled the trees all around, Adelheid stomped on the ground and powered both into the sky, piercing through the branches and leaves above. 

Now in the expanse above, devoid of distractions and any possible back-up plans that Pride could have prepared, Adelheid’s cold stare went to the Sin-Archbishop in front. He…he was laughing? He was laughing despite her hands being on his collar, starting to slowly drain his mana as to knock him out with safety due to his weak gate.

“Od Laguna itself has decided to bless me today, Adel!!” The delirious scream, loud enough to pierce the heavy winds around them, was heard perfectly fine. His tone was entertained, afable even. His emotions, however, were a raging sea of anger and…jealousy? “I had never hoped to see you afraid!!”

“Whatever you had planned for this day will not succeed.” Her gaze, already back to normalcy, lowered to the below, her sharp eyesight noticing the black uniforms. Her ears, the fearful screams. She stopped her mana drain. “What…”

“I learnt a very good lesson a long time ago, Adel. You can’t be in two places at the same time!!” A cackle stopped his words, their ascension starting to slow down. He raised his right hand, five fingers extended. “And so, bait and hostages will always work! And, now, you remember this game of mine, right?”

Adelheid frowned, her perfect memory relaying the words she had missed due to the influence of the trial she had failed. “You…if you wanted to destroy the tomb, why engage despite having met your objective? What else did you hope to accomplish here?” Their waning speed, calming down the wind that had howled with their ascension.

The jealousy flared again in his mind. “How could I resist intervening seeing you at your weakest after having defeated that trial, Adelheid?” Another laugh, his mind filled with unshakeable confidence in her unbeatability. “And that defenseless village was screaming for a good wake up call! Why should I not loot it?” His emotions did not even register the village. It was not even an afterthought.

Her iron grip lessened slightly on the man, taken aback by his faith in her. They crossed the clouds, their watery embrace drenching them both.

“Still, colour me surprised to see you scared! What did the trial show you, huh?” The fearless Sin-Archbishop in front kept chirping in his fake upbeat tone as the emotions inside his mind raged against…the tomb? He was jealous of the tomb? At her silence Subaru’s smirk gained some honesty. “Still, are you finally regretting saving me that day, Hero?”

“As I have already said, I will never regret having saved you that day, Sin-Archbishop. The only things I will regret are letting you run amok in this kingdom, being unable to stop your actions and not being able to divert you away from your current choices.”

The jealousy was banished and awe and hatred came back, together with…the fear of failure? “So I have to be even more evil? Damn, Adel, you sure are a slave driver, huh?” Subaru tilted his head at her hands, still around his collar but yet to kill him. “You…are taking a long while to deal with me, alright. Do you really need to nail this victory of yours in or is that mana draining not working right now?” He catched how her wet hair danced under the sunlight, its light reflecting on her white uniform and the drops of water. This sight’s quality turned the expensive painting into an insult.

Her gaze narrowed on his, frowning at his readiness to die. It worsened as she noticed the small desire to do so. The question in her mind, dying to be asked. “Victimless arson is no crime to murder someone over without a previous trial at the very least, Sin-Archbishop.” Their speed zeroed and started to ramp up again, now in the other direction. “While I do not understand your purpose nor objectives, should you surrender I will vouch for you. You have yet to take a life and it is not too late to stop this before you do.”

A wave of fury overtook his mind. Rotten envy reappeared. “Oh, is that so?! As expected of teeth-rottingly sweet and kind Adel, always ready to forgive!!” He spat the insult that was uttered in full honesty. “But, sorry, I will not take this lying down!” Finally unsheathing his dagger, his right hand was soon trapped by the wrist. Growling, he tried to headbut her only for the impact to wound him more than her. “Goddamn it!” Blood trailing down his face and highlighting his eyes, he moved his left towards her sword only for her to stiffen and let go of his collar to stop that hand too. And for the first time a fear different from failure appeared. “Wait…you beat the trial, yes?” For the first time, that ever confident mind wavered.

His head was wiped of emotions as it started to connect the dots. It should have been obvious to him, for there would have been no need to blow up the Tomb had she done so but blind faith is, after all, blinding. “I have no need to reveal my failings or victories to one who will find himself behind bars, Sin-Archbishop.” Subaru blinked a few times, his gaze as baffled as if she had been speaking in another language.

“Which…which trial did you fail? It couldn’t have been the first one, that would be bogus. The first one is to face your past, that I know. You have no past to be ashamed of.”

“You know nothing of my past, Sin-Archbishop.” They pierced the clouds again.

At that Subaru scoffed in evident disdain, his wet clothes making his well-built body evident. “I know everything about you, Adel.” His certainty, as unbreaking as the force of gravity that was pulling them towards their doom. The wind, again potent all around them. “I know that your Grandmother died fighting the Great Whale, that your mother fell ill to ‘Sleeping Princess’, that both your father and grandfather have disowned you and believe yourself a monster.” Her words died as his mind never lost that confidence. “And I know that not one of those things was your fault so stop kidding around, jeez.”

Adelheid blinked, her Divine Protections struggling under the ravaging of the lingering and reignited emotions of her trial and his words, spoken as if they were the most evident truth.

“Like, what, are you going to feel guilty over that dragon sword and Od Laguna itself betraying your Grandmother, a thing you have no choice over nor could have ever known about?” He shook his head, his arms testing her grip and finding no openings there. “Or will you try to make me believe that two-year old you was really consciously responsible for your mother's condition? Will you also try to gaslight me into thinking that you also forced your family to hate you for the laughs?” Another scoff. “Please, I am not that dumb. That you think I would believe you failing your first trial is insulting even. If you were truly at fault there would be something you had to do to cause all of that. So, come one, prove it, awake your mother. Oh, you can't?” Another snicker. 

Her silence raged on. His visage, slowly morphing into paleness.

“...no, this can’t be right. You can’t be telling me that my nemesis is this much of an enormous idiot!” His roar was the prelude to a stare that looked at her like she was the one who was mad. “The arrogance to believe yourself at fault over Theresia is beyond my own position as Pride! That you believe a baby could be at fault for anything is delusional! And, really, you are out-doing Pete-san with that sloth of yours if you are spending this much time self-flagellating! I don’t understand, Adel, don’t you have more things to think about?! Like, I don’t know, the quickly approaching ground below?!”

Adel blinked and her eyes flickered behind, an opportunity that Pride took to knee the dragon sword’s sheath, pushing the sword out. Her left let go of Subaru to stop the sword from flying away and slamming into the ground, opportunity window in which Pride unsheathed his second dagger and slashed at Adel’s right, weakening the hold just enough to be able to push himself away.

And so Vela and Ara left his cloak, fluttering wildly, while the surrounding spirits rushed to heal Adelheid’s wound. Her gaze returned to him and saw him waving his right, reminding her of the hostages. Five seconds away from impact, Adelheid could have reactivated her mana drain and let him slam against the ground. She did not and Vela weakened gravity’s grip while Ara exhaled her flames, rapidly slowing down Subaru’s descent.

Her landing was graceful and did not harm a single leaf. His, more of a hard impact against the ground as he had been unable to fully slow down his fall. Raising a small cloud of dirt and leaves, the Sin-Archbishop groaned lightly, arm broken. 

“Od below, did we really have to go above the clouds…?” Slowly raising to his feet, he wavered a bit as nausea settled in. Shaking his head, a thing that only worsened it, his eyes cleared up as he returned to Adelheid. Fury rampaged through his mind. “Now, now, I am starting to think that you enjoy taking me lightly, Adel. Second time you let me live today.”

She shuffled on her feet, gaze already noticing the hundred cultists around. No sight of hostages, however. The small columns of smoke behind, already dealt with.

“Well, wouldn’t it be dumb of me to put all the eggs in the same basket? Can’t have you in a position in which you can deal with everything at the same time.” His confident smile back, he extended both arms, ignoring his broken one. His emotions, uncaring for his wounds, always about her, directed at her. “Knowing you, you would freeze time…” His gaze went to her dragon sword and pure hatred flared up. “...and deal with everything before we even see it.”

“So you will use innocents for your own gain once again, Sin-Archbishop?” Her gaze examined his raised hand. He had been unwilling to kill anybody yet had not hesitated in shooting artillery against civilians to distract her. Was that trust in her capabilities or pure callousness? Why did the Sin-Archbishop of Pride not kill? 

“Yup. And you really should go…” Subaru fell silent when Adelheid’s hand gripped the dragon sword with redoubled strength. Blinking, his smirk widened a bit. “Now, now, I know a bluff when I see one, Adel. You would never risk a life.” He lowered one of his fingers. The forest in front of him burst into flames. It reached his ears. “But I will.”

The wildfire behind reflected its golden and red light on her armour, playing her form with ever moving shadows that teasingly hid and revealed parts and pieces of darkened white. The raising cloud of ash and smoke, a contrasting background to the light of hope that was the woman in front. Subaru did not notice how the light of the flames reflected of him, painting him in all-consuming and cruel light that showed all that he was. His dark eyes, a void coloured in yellows and reds. His stance, casual. His emotions, reassurance of the virtuous in front.

“Still, this would not be fun if I just had you here, right?” Subaru clapped his hands once. “You have fifteen seconds to reach the centre of this forest and a minute to reach Elior’s. Be quick and fast before either fire or mabeast grant me my first ever kill. Or…” Subaru twirled around, cloak fluttering around. “...fight here and best me by letting them all die.” His smile, sure of what she would choose.

Adelheid’s hold in her sword weakened. Subaru’s sureness in her choice was not wrong. She jumped back to the forest.

“...the first trial, huh…” Subaru’s gaze lingered a few seconds on the back of her nemesis. Now he knew what to use against her. “...I never took you for an idiot but I guess you learn something new everyday. Let’s move.” It was not cathartic to know that her rival regretted her past.

And so the Witch Cult retreated away, disappearing into nothingness again.

… 

The guard read their permit once again. “...governor Minerva from Cramlin?” They flickered through the report attached to it, mentioning their good deeds and adept building of houses, all of it having been up to the strictest code. Frowning, they turned to the earth mages and three carriages behind. Without a word they handled the report to their commander. 

The strictest inspections had been put in place and so they continued their background check by checking if they were on the risk list of possible collaborators. Thankfully, as only two carriers from Cramlin had entered during the royal selection they were on the bottom. Nonetheless, all of the mavericks were patted down and checked for any kind of weapons. Usually they would have been sent back but the current circumstances required their help and so, after half an hour, they were allowed in.

And so Eight and the Mavericks strolled into the slums of the royal capital. While the most affected zones were outside of this poverty ridden place, those would never starve. And right they were for the surroundings were looking even worse than the last time they had strolled in the capital. Signs of small fights, broken buildings and torn apart doors were evident all around together with the stench of hunger and desperation. Eight could only frown, the situation proving vastly worse than what Pride had foretold. This was the result of sacking, like the one she had faced so…Eight shook their head. The past mattered not, only this present. A gesture of their head and the cultists fanned out while the volunteers looked around, evidently affected by the sight.

And it was truly terrible, most people around having been victims to the guard and men at arms during their taxing efforts. At the very least there were no dried rivers of blood, kicking away the possibility of a too heavy emergency tax. Nevertheless, famine and frostbite were howling in the distance, ready to prey on the people here. They would need to write a few more missives and request more supplies…Her gaze flickered to a congregation at her right, some of Pride’s Word Bearers taking advantage of the situation.

“[...] Really, what good is a Wise Council, a Kingdom itself, if it cannot deliver the smallest of protections? What good is the current order if it will force us to starve out of greed!! What fault, what wrongs did we commit?” The heated voices of the three cultists washed over the gutter rats that had enough energy to stand and listen. Inflamed gestures and potent voice, their torn up clothes were the perfect sympathy gathering, lowering them to their level. “None!! We did nothing wrong!! Our only failure was being unable to beat the enemy the Kingdom has been unable to beat for centuries!! The enemy they also failed to defeat!! And our punishment?! Our punishment is looting, starvation, death for being born from bad blood?!”

The crowd stirred. Eight crossed their arms, noticing a girl with golden hair and red eyes with ample space at her right, as if she had kicked and bitten people away from it. Her eyes widened a bit when her gaze trailed down the girl. She was missing her right hand, the bandages around the stump bloodied. It was to be expected, after all. A thief that gets caught stealing from a Royal Candidate would get hung. She should even be grateful that her target had been a half-devil, drastically reducing her punishment. Eight unclenched their fist. They could not lose their cool for a random civilian, no matter how similar they were to her brot…They shook their head again.

“The nobles will laugh from their shiny castles, engorging themselves in our scraps!! The merchants will scam us down to our last coin to sell us rotten food!! Is this kingdom what the Divine Dragon wanted?! Is this what our lives are supposed to be?! Is this what the Sword Saintess fights for, the most prominent tool of the bastard council?! Yes!! Yes, it is!! These are our rotten lives, our destiny, our deaths.” They breathed in, their voice lowering to a low, conspiratorial whisper as the crowd inched forward, eager to listen. “Unless we find another way. The Witch Cult is moving against the old order. Their gazes are diverted. Their backs, unguarded.” They paused and looked to the sides. “Can the faithful really stand to see how rotten this kingdom has become? Would the Dragon not spit on it? Would we not insult it by allowing it to remain as it is?”

Growling and whispering. Most demi-humans shuffled, eyes remembering a war, or its tales, of short ago. For them, the Sword Saints had never been allies, but enemies.

“Winds of change are coming. A half-devil runs for the crown. The only candidate that truly cares about the common folk. Short of revolution, of civil war, she is our best bet. Should we let the illusion of her fake similarity to the Witch stop a future in which we are not pulled away from our homes in the middle of the night and beaten half-way to death for taxes?” They rose to their full height. “Of course not!! We will not take this laying on the ground! So we shall scream our support to the new candidate!”

“...and what if she turns out like all the rest?” The golden-haired girl interjected from the first row. Her poisonous and hatred filled tone, a wave of fire across all of the people around. They knew first hand how worthless the words, the promises of the ruling class were. Only actions mattered. Their whispering got worse.

The Word Bearer stopped to let the energy build. “Then…revolution.”

That simple word cooled down their energy. Treason. The knot. Delusions only whispered in trustworthy bars and taverns being said out-loud, in the middle of the road. It would have been enough for the crowd to wave their discourse away had it been a normal day. Instead, the threat of the elements made that action impossible. They could not wave away poverty. The recent incursion of the Witch Cult, not an army, a glorified militia, a newfound hope of five peasants being able to best a night. A memory that held their gazes. The possibility of a better tomorrow that they could grasp with their hands,

“...then why wait!?” Felt advanced a step, making herself the light of the show. The image of the enraged teenager missing a hand doused oil into the flames of resentment. “This,” She raised her stump. “, I got for waiting for help!! There’s no one coming, there’s no one to save us anymore!! A Royal Candidate will help?!” She spat on the road. “I believe first a flying earth dragon! All of them, all of the rotten bastards that look down on us thanks to their blue blood…they deserve to burn!! Pride should have burnt them all!!!”

Her infuriated scream resounded in the crowd, erupting in enraged roars. Eight stepped forward, noticing the situation having deviated from their true purpose. As their mavericks advanced, the crowd turned to them with murder in their eyes. Murder that quickly vanished as they smelt the food in the carriages.

“We are the Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks and we are here to help.” A gesture and the volunteers unveiled the carriages. “You may take what you need.” 

Food, winter clothing, clean water. The crowd lost their early heat, it being exchanged by unease and greed. And so the red-eyed revolutionary found herself losing the control she had over the people once Eight uttered her next words.

“We support Lady Emilia’s candidacy and are sponsored by her.” A lie that was uncheckable but it was enough. The populus exchanged sides and rushed to their first meal in half a week. And Eight’s gaze looked on the girl, her blood tinted eyes a window to darkness, to hatred. They were devoid of the softness that her age should grant them. Jarred, filled with regrets. And home to a promise of death. Her heart pitied the girl. They shuffled…this girl had potential. And Pride had allowed them to recruit, after all.

Waiting for a few minutes for the fires to be lit and their first open kitchen to get working, Eight advanced towards the girl, seated far away from the bonfires and refusing to grab any food despite her growling stomach. Plate in hand, they crouched in front of the still unmoving youngster. Tilting their head, their gaze lost all emotion. Felt blinked and moved her head to them, seeing a bird of the same feathers.

Eight did not smile. Their expressions did not change as they rolled back their sleeves. Willing their magic, their two arms shone with a particular mark. A flaming hand. Felt blinked again. Eight extended her the plate of food, the invitation clear. Felt’s shaking hand and stump moved towards the plate, her fingers tracing its edges. Warmth. Fulfilment. Safety. Vengeance. 

“His will be done. Its writ be obeyed. Your wish be granted. We shall be guided. She will be revived. The world be doomed.”

Felt’s expression finally changed. A bloodthirsty, crooked smile. She grabbed the plate. Eight’s fire magic flared again, burning a mark in Felt’s healthy arm, uncaring for the whimpering and tears out of pain. “What is your name, child?”

“...Felt Cromwell.”

“Will you reject it, number 2-”

“No.” Her growl was danger itself, a snake coiled and poised to bite off Eight’s neck. The cultist did not blink when they found themselves with a dagger to their neck, Felt having moved with devilish speed. “I won’t. I will join as Felt Cromwell or send your head flying away!” There was desperation in her voice, as if she was protecting a memento that meant more than her life.

She gave Felt the tiniest nod. “So be it, initiated Felt Cromwell. Eight welcomes you to the faction of the Sin-Archbishop representing Pride, Natsuki Subaru. May His words light the way, may His Truths never wane, may He always speak for the Gospel and may He walk everforward towards Envy.”

Felt shuffled under Eight’s expectant gaze. “Ma-may his words light the way, may his truths never wane, may he always speak for the gospel and may he walk e-everforward towards envy.”

Eight unnaturally tilted their head, their apathetic gaze on the youngster in front. There was no faith, no determination, no selflessness. No devotion. She would grow into the role. One of the mavericks approached them and handled Eight a gospel. Grasping it, they opened it and extended it to Felt.

Backing away from it, seconds racked up before she armed herself with bravery and grasped it. All of her hesitation was banished by its writ as if it had never been there. Her stare widened and grew into an obsessive wildfire. In the first page, the names of the knights that had jailed them, their families and their lord. Her hands grasped into it, almost tearing the pages out. Just as she started to read the pages disappeared, deliver instructions.

“W-what?!” The hope, tantalisingly close, had been veiled in the shadows of a demand. To follow the gospel. “You…you can’t!!!” Her shriek caused all of the people in the clearing to turn to her. Her plate was thrown out of her hands and Eight lowered just enough so that it hit their face.

Bowing down, they backed away with unsteady steps. Face bleeding, they coughed and groaned a bit. “So-sorry. I will let you be…”

The people around softened when they saw Eight’s injury. While an untrustworthy newcomer, Felt had been a bundle of fury whose lashing out had gotten too out of hand. And so everyone believed she had been a fault yet not one intervened, still wanting to support Felt over Eight. Eight, still staring at Felt, mouthed. ‘It is the way. When our purpose is met, your desires will be fulfilled. Follow its writ.’ And they moved away.

And Felt was left alone. Filled with regrets. Filled with ‘What if’s and ‘Should have’s. Filled with grieving. And smoldering in rage, in hatred, in powerlessness. And, despite it all, her hands grabbed the black book with even more care, for it offered a purpose, a path forward. A future to look for. Not a rotting and shattering present haunted by the past. And she had no soul to sell, for it had flown away already. And she had no morals to break, for she had discarded them too. Her hands pocketed the gospel.

When Eight left the capital, job done, Felt followed them.   

…

Miklotov sighed. Thankfully, Crusch’s help together with a lessened emergency tax had been enough for the nobility to be able to be asked about their duties to the crown. And so five hundred men at arms had been levied and granted to the Council together with a modicum of liquidity. Coin that was further enlarged by the emergency tax of the Capital, mostly centered around those who could pay. He lowered his head, unable to fully believe that excuse.

Shaking it, he looked at the report of the Six Tongues, stating that not one of the Great Cities of Lugunica had had any unusual or drastic differences in their undergrounds. The research would continue in the urban centers closest to them. The capital was, also, clean. 

On the infiltration itself, the organization had mapped the different possible entrances of the witch cult, most through the underground. And, once checked out, they made sense and had clear trails and signals of recent use, together with indirect eye witness of it.

On more interesting if worrying facts, there had been quite a lot more of missing people. And it had all started two months, a week and two days above. Usually happy people with families, one day they just went away to Od knows where. Cultist modus operandi. But where had they gone? These disappearances usually went away after a few days at tops. And so the Six Tongues offered the most reliable hypothesis they had. A permanent hold. A development incredibly concerning.

And it had weight, for the ease they had had on mobilising that many forces for a surgical strike, together with their coordination and quality equipment, meant a lot of preparation. It meant supply lies for armour and weapons. It meant farms. It meant housing. Earth dragons, carriages, recruitment. This was no longer terrorism. This was an insurrection.

Miklotov, paling a bit, turning to Bordeaux, having been reading the same report. 

“Martial law won’t cut it, Bordeaux. We need permanent garrisons in most of the great cities, lest attacks like this repeat one after the other. We need walls and to reinforce the sewer systems with patrols. And we need to sound the alarm, ready all the holds and lesser cities. We can’t let the nobility not know about this.”

“I agree.” He slammed the report on the table, causing a rain of documents. “This has gone beyond saving face or maintaining our legitimacy and prestige. This is now a threat to the kingdom at large.” He took a pause, his mind taking stock of their numbers and how to implement the new routes. “...have the candidates delivered in their promises?”

Miklotov reclined on their couch. “From what I have seen, Lady Anastasia's efforts in the capital have allowed our schedule to work out. The deadline will be achieved and we will be able to pass the winter without the city freezing out.” Of course Miklotov’s higher position and elderly nature made him blind to a very particular problem that had always struck the capital. The slums always suffered during winter and that would remain the case despite Anastasia’s work, as her efforts had been directed towards the wealthier parts of the city.

Bordeaux, being fully cognisant of the problem, callously ignored it as always. After all, wasn’t it mostly inhabited by demi-humans? They would hold against the cold. One of the council members, in charge of the mages, interjected. “It appears Lord Roswaal has been unable to deliver in his word yet it is out of outside factors to him. Sanctuary seems to be experiencing difficulties and has demanded all of his attention.”

A second quipped in too. “Lady Priscilla has been true to her threats. Her territory is in darkness. No riders are allowed nor conversation mirrors are picked up. The only thing that gets some information is the Six Tongues. Her taxes and duties have, of course, stopped too. Yet I am sure her private army, weirdly similar to the Vollachian one in training and composition, seems ample enough to deal with any troubles. We do not have to concern ourselves with-”

“Not concern ourselves with what?! She is still a noble of this kingdom!! We allow this degree of independence and what noble will not go down that way?!” A third slammed his hands against the table, more reports flying away. “Hers is as much an insurrection as the Witch Cult! And hers is one that could rally behind her the unruly or pissed of nobles! Our legitimacy, the very own throne behind us, exist solely because the nobles allow it!”

“That’s heresy!” A fourth got off their couch. “The throne, this regency, and this kingdom stands solely in favour of the Divine Dragon!” Breathing in, they calmed down. “But I agree. Lady Priscilla is committing treason. She should be punished and made an example of but, as a Dragon Maiden, we can only admonish her, not that the riders will go through. We can only tighten the leash around the rest of nobility, remind them of the necessity of un-”

“Tighten the leash? You want to dissolve this kingdom, is that it?” The council member in charge of the mages shook their head. “Now is the time to show our magnanimity and lessen their obligations. We can’t force them to obey, we have to make them want to obey!”

“Bulls-!!”

Miklotov loudly coughed. “We are digressing from the main topic of contention and there’s still more to report. The Witch Cult seems also engaged in information warfare and propaganda. A new wave of troubadours and bards have appeared all around Lugunica. Their songs and speeches are…less than ideal and paint us and the nobility in not a good light.”

Bordeaux scoffed. “They are just reacting against the current crisis. Their livelihoods are based around whoever can sell the better song and tale. This is a new gold mine. We will prove through actions and force that we are beyond such petty insults.”

“And don’t most of these,” The third council men tapped on the report. “, seem to endorse the half-devil that the Witch Cult hates and has declared war on? If anything, they will be taken care of by our enemies. I vote to let them kill themselves with their inflammatory words.”

“I would advise against letting these miscreants keep bad-mouthing the kingdom of the Dragon. Their whispers are honeyed words that could attract malcontent. A thing, if I may add, that is currently rampaging through the capital. You do not allow embers next to dry grass and the situation is, while manageable, not of good fortune. Should a riot happen we will lose men and militia that should go to defeat the Witch Cult.”

“A lot of merchants have also complained about the distasteful situation in the poorer districts of the city. Their deals and business have been hampered by discontent and hungry people and these can cause trouble. That is why I advised to either fully sack the slums or not at all. To make a half measure like the one we did is to breed enemies with enough energy to try and bite back the hand that feeds them.”

Another council member scoffed. “Had the capital not been burnt enough? There was no need to sack anything! If anything we are reaping the evilness of our actions. Had the Dragon seen what we did they would have insulted us! We have condemned the slums to a winter of hunger and death for a pittance of coins!”

“Yeah, you are your love for gutter rats! They all can eat mud and dirty water for all I care!”

Miklotov coughed loudly, again. “I believe the tax levied was voted on and was found to be a good enough idea despite it being a very…contested matter. Let’s leave what was done in the past and focus on advancing towards the important matters at immediate hand. Now, if we may divert to the loss of population in the capital before we vote on the discussed topics…”

The rest of the council shuffled on their seats but fell silent.

“I am grateful for your understanding. Now, the capital has lost a tenth of its population thanks to the wave of emigration caused by the fire and, from what the Six Tongues has seen, most have arrived at Cramlin. The governor there…” Miklotov flickered through the report. “...miss Minerva seems to have made quite a good job of managing her city. While we lack detailed reports in its past, everyone seems to be housed and the crafting sector, particularly metalworking, seems to be experiencing an all time high.” Another page was flickered. “Her popularity seems fairly low despite these sudden developments…and, citing the report here word by word,” 

“‘It seems like Minerva was strong-armed into acting with Justice and Competency by a band connected to Lady Emilia’s faction, the Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks. They take no coin yet offer all of their goods and mana to build houses, feed the people and offer whatever treatment and work needs to be done. While they claim to not be affiliated to her faction, this is most likely a bland and uninteresting lie as they soured her popularity in that city. They seem to, once having run out of Good Deeds to do, as they call them, have decided to travel towards this City. Their arrival seems likely to have already occurred. They are a no-risk barring the impact in the royal selection, for they lack weaponry and skill set and seem to me mostly composed of volunteers.’”

Miklotov paused a bit to let his words sink.

“So the half-devil is not blind to politics, huh. She seemed like a delusional dimwit, so I am surprised that she has this political savviness.” Bordeaux mused, the tiniest bit impressed. She must have directed them away from Cramlin the instant the attack happened. Shrewd indeed. And, maybe, a danger?

“So, Cramlin, huh…Can say I have known of the city before. Do be put a pin on it?”

Miklotov nodded. “I shall also direct the Six Tongues there after their current assignment is done. We can’t let this new powerbase stay unknown. Its new forges may prove a problem should the Witch Cult attack the city…”

“Or Lady Priscilla and the nobility start buying them en masse.” Ended Bordeaux. With the royal armouries empty… “Miklotov, I demand an emergency vote. We need to monopolise this new forges in the shortest time possible. And also secure the roads towards Ganacks and Flanders with the highest priority. Priestella and Picoutatte, while economically important, matter not that much in this situation. We need to secure our forces, materials and armaments, all else is secondary.”

“And so we will call for a vote.”

……

Chapter Text

Pride pushed the wheelchair of a stone faced maid towards their base. The Iron Believers behind, slowing down their march as they treated themselves yet never uttering so much as a grunt. Patrasche, right besides Subaru, waved her tail from side to side in aggressive motions. The silence all around, very oppressive. Sighing, the black-haired man continued pushing for a few minutes.

Pride sighed for the fifth time. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad, sir Pride? Did you undergo any action that would cause me to become so?” Sylphy’s tone was even and apathetic even as Vela sat itself on her lap and started to get patted. Her gaze never left the road ahead.

“You are mad.” It was not a question.

She shuffled on her chair. “No, I am not.” His tone was…affable again? Even if carrying a bit of irritation.

He grew a mocking smirk. His words were charged with fake energy, turning teasing. “Super duper mad.”

“Am not!” She gripped the armrest of the chairs. She did not understand his mood swings, his personality. He acted as if his lashing out had never happened and had returned to friendliness. He did as he wanted and acted like he had done no wrong, as if trying to irritate her. To push her away. It was both worrying and infuriating. And, maybe, mere masking. Something to take his mind out of something.

“...yup.” His second sight was twice as deep. “Syl, come on, what did you want me to do? Carry you towards a battlefield in a wheelchair? Things deviated slightly from the plan and so I was forced to improvise a bit, y’know?” His tone lost the teasing and turned chilly. “You do not play around with Adel, you engage her at your best and bait her away but never win outright in a direct conflict. You can’t do otherwise. And so you were left behind like the non piece you would have been this time around.” His words gained an edge. “If anything, blame your own powerlessness for being left behind and having to be protected.” 

Sylphy shuffled on her wheelchair. She swallowed her indignation. “...I understand, Sir Pride. I will try to be more useful next time.” She felt him frown, as if he had hated that answer. “...would you prefer it if I was not?”

He answered not as he pushed the wheelchair. He did not know why he felt like she did not have to be.

Silence grew longer and longer until Sylphy coughed. “...may I ask a question, sir Pride? Wasn’t our mission to destroy the tomb? Why then still go ahead with…whatever you were doing there?” The witch cult seemed to really have done nothing. Enter in, terrify the villagers, engage the Sword Saintess, burn the forest and run away. No greater objective, no information gained, no tools, no thing. They did not even sack the village. She shuffled again as he refused to answer, a tinge of worry breaking through her stony facade. “What if it had not worked?”

His smirk, still bright, grew a bit. “But it did work out, didn’t it?”

“And what if next time it doesn’t? You have just said that you can’t w-”

“I can!!” His roar, mostly fueled by refusal to accept the truth. His expression had morphed again, now one of…She could not make sense of it. “I have not sacrificed everyone, I have not turned into the worst evil just to fail at the last hurdle again!!” Birds flew out of the nearest trees as the entire column of cultists stopped together with Pride. His hands, white, gripped the wheelchair with too much force. Had his gate been not useless, he would have broken it. Had his muscles been not useless, he would have done it too. Had his body, mind, spirit been not useless, he wouldn’t be here. Had he been a powerful mage, had some sort of better power, had been anything more than Subaru, he would have won already. Instead…

He blinked, noticing he had stopped. Forcing out a snicker, his voice lost its sheer emotion and returned to the affability of before. “So, Syl, what if it works?”

Sylphy’s gaze, having turned to him, softened in pity, building up his fury again. How could it not? Despite his usual confidence, his delusions, his egocentric and egomaniac persona, he had still said an ‘If’, not a ‘Will’. A question uttered as if it was rhetoric. He seemed to be the one who was surest of his defeat yet was still trying to lie to himself. “I-”

“You are no longer entertaining.” Subaru let go of the wheelchair and Fourth took over seamlessly, causing no discomfort to her. Speeding up, Subaru ignored Sylphy’s cut off sentence and put himself at the tip of their formation. Fourth, not speeding up, forced Sylphy to watch that shrinking back again. One that looked weak, unsure, almost breaking under its weight. But one that refused to accept it. 

“...who did you sacrifice…and for what are you becoming something you…do not want to be?” Sylphy muttered out-loud. Fourth had no answer and so they did not utter anything. It seemed ridiculous to believe that the Sin-Archbishop of Pride did not delight himself in causing pain, in death, in destruction. But…he did not. From   what Sylphy had seen, all he had done had looked to be…to feel more like a job, like something he had to do. A duty, a destiny. A self-imposed prophecy. Something he clawed into so as to not break apart. The tiniest frown appeared on her face.

“Sir Pride.” Her apathetic tone made him glance backwards. “You forgot Vela.” The Yin spirit, still on Sylphy’s lap, was still being patted. 

Subaru sighed and snapped his fingers. The spirit tensed up but, confused, remained where it was, not understanding the conflicting orders it sensed through their connection. Ara also left his cloak, fluttering around in a confused daze. His frown worsened and he snapped again, Vela, now moving away from Sylphy, was still sensing the surroundings to defend her against any risks. Shaking his head, he returned to looking ahead. ‘If even Adel has a past she regrets…where does that leave me?’ If not even the hero he could not become was as empty inside…could he have ever been any different?

Shaking his head for the second time, as if trying to dispel that thought, he kept walking forward. After a few minutes of the silent march, a carriage came into view. Wheels broken and having almost hit a tree, there was a merchant in front with a blue earth dragon again. “[...] I know, Frufoo, I know that it was a tight curve!! I am seeing the result!!...Hey! It was not my fault either, it was…”

“This can’t be for real…” Having stopped at the sight, Subaru was eventually joined by Sylphy and Fourth while the cultists’ column crawled into another stop. “Dealer of death…” Subaru felt all of his earlier respect towards the man crumble like a castle of sand against the tide. Sighing, he advanced towards the pair.

Scratching his head while his now healed hand crunched his weird hat, the merchant groaned with irritation. “Well, fine!! It was my fault, Frufoo!! Now that this blaming game has ended, can we focus on the problem in front of us!!” Groaning louder, Otto scratched his head harder. “Lord Roswaal’s carriage is…” Blinking, he turned towards Frufoo. “What do you mean the scary black-haired mammal is behind me? And can you stop calling people mammals?”

Subaru, behind Otto, coughed loudly.

Otto froze up. Hat now inside his closed fist, his eyes scanned Frufoo’s as if trying to convince himself that the earth dragon had lied. Not believing him again, Otto slowly turned back. Seeing the Sin-Archbishop of Pride, shirt’s collar messed up, right behind him caused Otto to jump into the air a bit too high, almost missing his landing and having to trip backwards several times to stop himself from falling down. “Oh, OH! Sir Natsuki?!” His voice, an octave higher, weakened further as his eyes scanned the rest of the congregation. “I…What a…happenstance to meet so soon again.”

A slow nod.

Gaze flickering wildly, it ended up stopping in the enormous column of black smoke right behind and around Sanctuary. Frowning, he noticed that they had been coming from that direction. “You…you, uhmm, working again, yes?”

A second slow nod.

Otto scratched his head again, his eyes moving to Sylphy to ask for help. Her attention, in Pride, was too diverted to notice his begging gaze. “I…I will let you be, then.”

A very loud sigh. A tired gesture towards his carriage and the cultists got into motion. Otto, not knowing what was happening, watched, mouth opened, as they started to cut down trees and craft some rudimentary wheels by measuring the ones he still had left. Sylphy shuffled, her gaze stabbing like two needles into Pride but the latter refusing to look back at the maid. Shaking his head and crossing his arms, he frowned at the merchant. “A random question, Otto. How long have you been working as a merchant?”

At that charged ask Otto frowned, witty enough to catch up on the second meaning. “Now, sir Natsuki, I know how to ride a carriage!” Otto puffed out as the Sin-Archbishop looked slightly at his right, his eyes finding the almost totalled carriage. “That one doesn’t count!!”

Subaru tilted his head. “So does the one from before do?”

“That one was your fault!!” Otto blinked when he noticed his accusatory finger and was quick to lower it.

Subaru rolled his eyes and turned to Fifth next to him, his gaze speaking a thousand words.

“Hey!!”

Sylphy snorted, unable to stop herself. 

“See, even Sylphy is laughing at you.”

“Come on!! She was laughing at the situation, not at me specifically!!” And what an absurd situation it was.

Another gaze at Fifth that screamed ‘Get a load of this guy.’. Fifth shrugged ‘It is what it is with heathens.’. 

“I understood that!!”

More snorting, causing Sylphy to tremble on her wheelchair. This time both men turned to her, Subaru questioning and Otto slightly offended. “M- I mean, you seem like old friends.”

Both men pointed at themselves. “Me? Being friends with this failed merchant? / Me? Being friends with a Sin-Archbishop?” Both frowned and turned to the other. “Why would you say that to me?! / And what is wrong with being a Sin-Archbishop, huh?”

Sylphy shook her head, not believing the sign in front yet eyes glinting in entertainment.

Subaru sighed and deviated his gaze towards the burning forest. They needed to get moving. “Well, as entertaining as you are, merchant, we need to get back to our, uhm, working-”

“And now you are mocking me!”

“Yes.” His gaze moved back to the carriage. “...please, do not collide again. I would not want to repair your carriage for the third time.” A gesture of his head and the cultists, reparations done, backed away and restarted their march. Subaru did the same, ignoring Otto’s confused stare as he started to walk away.

“Uhm…sir Natsuki…”

“Thank me and I am burning that carriage.”

“...” Otto turned to Patrasche, who shook her head. And so the merchant backed away and looked down, the biting tone not giving any second chances to have a try at his, frankly, terrible luck. His eyes widened a bit when Sylphy nodded at him, saying her goodbyes with that gesture. A shaky smile and Otto returned the bow.

…

His gaze was locked onto the fire, the cackling and sizzling opening the same nightmares of always. Meili’s cooling body amidst a cloud of smoke and ashes, warmth, life-giving blood leaving her like a faucet unable to be closed. Elsa’s last fight, her death out of view for his duty had demanded of him to meet up with Emilia. The smell of burning meat, clothes, wood. The cacophony of screams caused by a pain he knew like the back of his hand. The wails, the crying, the… He blinked as the images started to replay. The faithful day of another one of his uncountable defeats.

Another loop that had done nothing. Another loop in which he had done nothing. He had failed at defeating the Hero. He had only destroyed his legacy. He had failed at making Emilia a queen. He had left her without a kingdom. He had failed at being a villain for not even Julius’ murder had filled up the emptiness inside. And what did that leave him? Mere failures. His eyes reflect the maddened fires in front, dancing in glee as they consumed the fuel below. As they self-destructed.

And so this one he would win. Od below, he had won two confrontations against Adelheid!! His plans had worked. They were working! Ara left the fire, worry evident in its flight as it started to orbit around Pride. Vela shuffled on Sylphy’s lap, now trying to break out and to join Ara. They would continue working. They must. He would, will, must be the greatest villain ever. His crimes agreed, his current path and company reinforced the idea, his hatred begged for it to be true. But, if that was true, why could he not get Emilia’s crying face out of his head? Why did that smell never leave his nose? Why-

“Are you alright, sir Pride?”

Subaru blinked and slowly turned to a worried Sylphy. Her apathetic face revealed no emotion. The experience he had developed in reading it through his thousands of loops saw the easiest read they had ever done of her. Worry. Honest worry. A bit of fear, a lot of pity, but mostly worry. Trying to empathise. Another compassionate heart he wanted to crush…Not? Did he? He grew a crooked smirk. “Bored, Syl? If you wanted someone to talk to you could just have asked for Fifth.”

She shuffled on her wheelchair, hands on the plate he had prepared for her. Why? Why was he doing all of this for the maid? He had saved their lives out of whimsy, out of a flimsy hypocritical sense of justice he seldom never gave. If anything he had only saved them because of Ara, who was now annoyingly circling around his head. His gaze moved to her wheelchair. He had broken legs and had never been given that privilege, why was he… “Sir Pride…I…can’t understand you…”

Blinking, his smirk got a bit honest. “It wouldn’t be fun if you could, yes? So-”

“Could you let me finish, please?”

At that he scoffed. Crossing his arms, Subaru had half a mind to interrupt her. Her look, however, made him blink and shuffle on the bench. And so he listened to her, unlike the world had done for him.

“But…I have come to believe something. A part of you, be it tiny or simply tired, wants to stop…whatever this is that you are doing.” Her eyes stared into his. “I know madness and you are not. I know greed and you are empty of it. And I knew cruelty and you do not enjoy it. Sir Pride, tell me so that I know if I must discard my morals, what is your objective?”

“I already said it to you, maid.” The defensive growl, the same as usual. “It is the only thing I can do, Syl. Become the greatest villain ever and bring chaos to the kingdom.”

“And I disagree. It is not the only thing you can do. It is the thing you believe yourself to be capable of doing. Have you yet to realise, si…sir Natsuki?” Another blink. “I am here, alive. And I know of no villany that would have done this intricate, if slightly unethical, play to secure mine and their lives."

Pride could but scoff at that. “That you would delude yourself into thinking something made from whimsy is not evil is beyond me. You are a fancy, the result of a mood swing, the-”

“And sir Otto was right. While long overdue, I thank you for saving my life, sir Natsuki. I don’t think I said it before, so here it is.” Her cold violet eyes, a tinge of warmth in them, stared at him as she uncaringly interrupted him like he is used to doing. 

His expression, mouth open, died. Or, more accurately, was struck by lightning thanks to the words he knew to have been said in pure honesty. “You…now? You say…you say it now?!” He managed to croak, leaving the bench and backing a step. His left foot impacted against the bonfire, dimming the flames. The dealer of death he could buy, excuse. He had felt like a moron, and one ignorant of his plots and betrayals. Sylphy…Sylphy had seen him at his worst. Kidnapping, torture, manipulation, arson, murder. That he could believe this could only be out of a malady of the mind. “You…you are lying. You must be.” His smirk returned, a veneer of safety. A curtain on his sight that was being forced to work, to hide. To make-believe. “Glad to know that you are already working on that betrayal but sweet-talking me is not going to be easy..”

Sylphy tilted slightly her head. “Sir Natsuki, I believe the one falling into delusion is you right now.”

A theatrical sigh. “This conversation is cyclical and it is becoming boring.” Subaru started to get out of the clearing.

“You know, I have noticed something.” He did not stop. She increased her words’ potency. “You always retreat when you find yourself unable to counter my words.”

He did. Hands clenching, he slowly turned back. “Oh…can’t counter your words, you say? Alright.” The bonfire that had been kicked racked up its flames back again, feeding on the nearby vegetation. Sylphy blinked, not being scared anymore by his enraged sight. A corner animal always barked the loudest, after all. He advanced forward with slow steps, cloak billowing darkly below. The orange, now in shadows that hinted at the sights of its dangerous nature, of its warning. His black clothes, mixing with the darks and terrors of the night. “I wonder…is this really true?” His steps echoed with evil purpose. All of the cultists got on their feet at the same time, turning to her with danger glinting in their eyes.

Ara and Vela rushed to Sylphy, now orbiting around her shoulders as the Sin-Archbishop’s slow stalking continued its rhythm. “I…”

“Let’s budget, shall we?” His smile, evidently forced. His eyes, two rubies of violence. The bonfire behind, rising to an almost uncontrollable fire. He waited to continue until his steps arrived him right in front of Sylphy. Crouching down to eye level, he tilted his head. “Let’s talk about my first blood, yes? I murdered three random people whose names I don’t remember.” His tone, even. “Unlike yours, I don’t even retain the why, I think they were just a nuisance, maybe a test. They were just random thieves. I could have dodged them, I could have even walked past them. Yes, I think I just saw them as a test, a challenge. Something to step on.”

Sylphy said nothing, her gaze not diverting from his, being sucked in by the void in his eyes.

“They even begged for their lives. I laughed at them.” Why would he have not? Didn’t they laugh at his? Didn’t they kill him and left him to rot with that casual cruelty? Why would he not just kill them as they had him? If the world wanted them dead, it should have helped them. Him. “ The only thing I hated from that action was choking one of them. It felt too gross.” He paused to see Sylphy’s expression. His tone lowered a bit more. “Then I went on to sick a couple dozen knights on a friend of mine to manipulate her into serving me. A few of those knights, of course, died. Then I betrayed and stabbed someone I could have considered an acquaintance in the back.” His gaze grew more intense. He smiled brightly. “Then I burned fifty two women.”

Sylphy blinked once.

“I also took command of the Witch Cult and callously used it as a tool for my own pleasure, uncaringly wasting their lives and killing people in the crossfire for my prideful, arrogant objective. Oh, and in the meantime I used one of the friends of a so perfect knight that I could only hate to murder them by poisoning. And, surprisingly…” His hand went to her left cheek yet did not touch it. “I did not even feel slightly better for it. I did not even bury the body myself either.” Hating her lack of reaction, his voice lowered even further. “And, once fools that thought they could trust me showed up, such as yourself…you know what I did? I happily and remorselessly led them to their deaths against an enemy they could never beat so that my objective of burning half of the capital of the kingdom was met. Did you know I did that? I murdered tens of thousands of people and I would do it again should it grant me my wish. The why? Because I felt nothing by doing it.”

A small pause.

“So, tell me, Syl, do you still believe I am not evil? That I do not deserve your betrayal? That I deserve your loyalty? Who is the delusional one now?” His tone, mocking, His words incensed. His intention, evident to the maid that was used to believe and live in a lie.

Sylphy’s gaze visibly softened a bit. Subaru frowned as he watched her raise her left hand that approached his right cheek. Hers touched and pulled away a single tear from below his eye. So close they were smelling each other’s breaths, Pride was able to see his face reflected on Sylphy’s eyes. Pale, crooked smile, broken stare. He blinked, trying to recover his wits. Trying to maintain the persona that had taken decades to build. He could only be a villain. He must only be one. He had sacrificed too much, done too much wrong. It was the only thing he could ever do, he could ever learn to do. If he lost that he…he would only be, he would just be Natsuki S-

“I see…I will do my utmost so that you do not have to suffer that again this time.” Sylphy’s soft voice brought him out of his mind and he almost jumped. Body, cold, weak. Eyes, shifty, wavering. Hands, trembling, unfeeling. “I had accepted to serve you whatever or whoever you chose to be, sir Natsuki. My loyalty is not something so fickle that your ghostly sins can scare me. But I am my own person and I think that there is something below the Sin-Archbishop of Pride. And that is Natsuki Subaru.” Her lips curled the tiniest bit up in a confident smirk. “And I think he is asking for a hand that I am too willing to not lend.”

Subaru, as if her words burnt him, backed away. The bonfire below, having been extinguished by Patrasche. “You…you can only ever be lying, Syl. This conversation is over.” Another weak step and he turned around, almost bolting away from her words as he started to pace away, as if steps could outrun a truth that he refused to believe. The truth that he could have not been evil. The truth that, maybe, he had done all of this for the wrong reasons. For nothing. The voice behind, another stab.

“And you have not answered what your objective is, sir Natsuki. I will humbly ask again once again in the future.”

‘And why would you care?’ Subaru rolled his eyes. “I did, Syl, you not wanting to believe it ain’t my problem.”

“I disagree. Aren’t you my lord and current caretaker?” He retreated into his tent.

…

A mostly silent morning and afternoon, they finally returned to the Black Fortress of Orion. Silently pushing the wheelchair, Subaru eyed from its open gates the far away city, seemingly calm. Crossing them, they came to find a Third that was kneeling in front of those. In their hands resided an opened conversation mirror. Frowning, and noticing it was Eight’s, he snapped it and turned a now cold and focused gaze on it.

“Speak, Eight.” A pause. “A new recruit? I see. Show them to me once you are back. Any-” Silence. “I see…are you sure?” His hand gripped with force the conversation mirror. “Alright…Alright…Fuck.” Breathing in, he let Eight continue. “Right…right.” He nodded at nothing and closed the conversation mirror.

With confident movements he opened Elsa’s. “Plan’s changed, back away and return to Orion.” Indeed he had made a mistake. He had bet on the kingdom prioritising trade and economic health, not diverting its attention towards the military aspects. It was…a very bad long term move if he had any intention of causing great disturbances. Should he target Picoutatte or Priestella the economic downturn and reduced international trade would heavily weaken the kingdom. Instead…they had decided to secure their armaments and focus on immediately combating the Witch Cult with as much power as they could muster.

If it worked, the short-term damage would be mitigated by the reduced war measures and cost. If not…Subaru shook his head. He would need to reconsider his stance. Flanders and Ganacks were out of the picture and he could not afford to severely weaken the kingdom if he wanted Emilia to have the greatest kingdom. That left…Priestella and dealing with Lust. While accelerating maybe a bit too much his plans, it would be a good step in controlling all of the Witch Cult, as she was the last Sin-Archbishop with any capabilities to meaningfully rule and direct them.

Pacing forward, he almost forgot about Sylphy’s wheelchair that he was pushing. At the very least thanks to his mountain base he was not that limited by ore. His earth mages would search for more with a snap of his fingers after all. Speaking about snapping his fingers, he did so and turned towards Third, still kneeling a bit behind. “Ready the artillery pieces and get the Night Stalkers in perpetual patrol around Cramlin. Wrath should be arriving sooner rather than later.”

A nod and Third rushed to their new duties while Subaru kept advancing for a few more seconds.

“Something wrong, Sir Natsuki?” Having patiently waited for his expressions to cool down, Sylphy, head slightly tilted, stared at him.

“Simply a miscalculation. Nothing too worrying nor will it stop the New Year celebrations I have planned.” His dangerous smirk reappeared again. “Now, changing topics, how are you doing?”

“...not a singular problem on my end, Sir Natsuki.” She tilted her head further at him. “Will you eat with me today?”

His smirk waned not while his gaze, lost, was on the quickly approaching door. “I don’t think I will, work is booming after all and I gotta redo a few drafts.” Hand digging into his pocket, he pulled out another conversation mirror. Most of his attention on it, he opened her door and walked again. “Yes, yes, Sixth, how is the new Black Fortress going? Have you lot caught any patterns in them? I s- [...]” His voice died into the unknowable.

And Sylphy moved not into her bedroom, her stare in the man that had revealed the terrible atrocities he had done. As she stared into the men that had looped back to try and…do what? Try to dodge them? To fix them? She had too little information about him and only a few feelings that she had developed as they had lived these weeks together. He could be kind, he could be good. And, maybe, just maybe, there was enough of that to exploit it. After all, she had said that she would be loyal. But she was loyal to Natsuki Subaru, the man that had decided to save her by himself, not to the Sin-Archbishop of Pride.

………

A thunder resounded together with the torrential rain while Subaru stared at the incoming Sin-Archbishop of Wrath through the battlements in the side of the mountain, trembling in cold. Really, having to restart to rebuild the fortifications had been a damned drag. “The target is in the quadrant, boys.” Closing the spyglass, he handled it to a standing maid dressed in a black and orange dress that was easy to move in. He had vetoed the maid uniform, after all.

The cultists around nodded and got into aiming the twenty four artillery pieces and the two Night Banishers they had stolen from the capital. Wrath’s authority was kind of a pain in the ass and they were already being affected. His gaze flickered to Sylphy, standing with as much courage and apathy as the best Lugunican veteran. Well, most have been. And so the best way to deal with her was to neither see her nor hear her. And so Subaru had arrived at this beautiful conclusion. Carpet bombing a road layered with firestones below. To stop her from being able to run away or notice the trap...A thunder resounded again.

The tricky thing would be to properly aim and bait her without seeing. Thankfully, the calculations were done and he had them properly memorised this time. Really, it had been an enormous pain to learn proper ballistics through trial and error. His smile darkened a bit as his tone lowered. “Fire.” The thunder of the artillery pieces and whistling of twenty six shells was lost under the bad weather outside. 

And so Subaru twirled around, gaze now on Sylphy. He was a bit glad that he would not see her explode this time. Sylphy blinked a bit, noticing his too soft gaze. He had seen more of her face than his own lately, after all. Cultists were mostly clad in their robes and he did not like mirrors. A fair bit of frills and amber, the dress did suit her. Yes, she looked cute even if his cloak, around her, diminished her shine.

The impact hit the road. Another thunder resounded. His vision rapidly darkened around Sylphy’s face.

…

The impact hit the road. Another thunder resounded and Subaru undid his blindfold and protections with careless callousness as if he was already sure of the result. The cultists all around did the same, never doubting His word not the writ in the gospel. Sighing, he skipped towards Sylphy and pulled out her blindfold too. “So-” Remembering something, he also pulled out the ear protections in the maid that reacted not to his care. “So, Syl, are you done already? Can you go back to your wheelchair now? You still need another two weeks.”

“Sir Natsuki, I am…” She suddenly wavered, a most severe migraine setting in as she felt something foreign being introduced in her Od. Her legs wavered and she started to fall before being catched by Subaru’s arms.

His tone lowered two octaves. “That’s it.” Raising her in his arms in a princess-carry, he started to walk towards it.

“Sir Natsuki, I am quite alright I assure you, that was just…” ‘What had it been?’ Blinking, her arms secured themselves around the Sin-Archbishop.

“Yeah, yeah, for realsies this time, I am sure. You would never overwork yourself after all, right?”

Sylphy looked away from his accusatory glare, knowing his words to be somewhat true. She had overworked herself the day that had been finally allowed out of that damned chair. Suffice to say, she had found herself in a similar situation as this one. Sighing soundlessly, her gaze fell onto Subaru’s chest and arms, protectively holding her. She blinked, surprised at finding herself feeling…safe. “Say…sir Natsuki. May I ask the why?”

“Well, do you want a note, a list or a book? You have given me enough rea-”

“Not about my presumed recklessness but about…this.” Sylphy squished her arms, making Subaru frown in confusion.

“What, am I supposed to simply drag you across the floor?”

Sylphy turned back to him. “Yes. That is what Regulus would have done should he be feeling charitable. Had he not, I don’t think I would have left this room by myself at all.”

Subaru stammered, now suffering a coughing fit. His pace slowed. “We-well, while I could do that, yes, it would not be pragmatic. Should you not heal well you would simply not be useful. I can’t have all of my effort just go in a puff of smoke.”

“Then why not have one of the cultists carry me, sir Natsuki?” Her questioning gaze tried to dig into his, making him look away. 

“Why would it matter?” Her silence made him reposition her and speed up, finally reaching the wheelchair and leaving the icy cold battlements. Sneezing yet again, Subaru looked ahead and pushed her again. “Now, now, I also had to show you the ropes of how to kill Sin-Archbishops.”

“I understand. It does not matter if the Sin-Archbishop of Pride is kind in his own free time.”

Another missed step. Breathing in, he looked backwards. “You know what, you are right. Fifth, buddy, can you carry her to-”

“I would prefer if he did not and you were the one who guided me, sir Natsuki.”

A blink and Subaru turned to her, his smirk half dead yet his gaze was questioning. “Now that’s not how this works. I order, you lot obey.”

Sylphy shuffled yet, after a few seconds, lowered her heart. She opened her mouth.

“I told you to not apologise, yes?”

Sylphy blinked but nodded. “I thought this situation called for it, sir Natsuki. So…” Her gaze flickered to the standing still Fifth and Subaru, still behind her wheelchair. 

Subaru growled and scratched at his head. “Enough time wasted. Let’s go.” He resumed pushing Sylphy forward. Leaving the top floors of the mountain, the building of the forges finally starting properly, they reached the throne room just in time for Third to be back.

“Sin-Archbishop, Wrath has been confirmed dead.”

Subaru handwaved that statement away. “Thanks, Third. Go take a warm bath.”

A nod and they went to do exactly that. Shaking his head, Subaru thought back on how to deal with this development. Cramlin’s small underground was being directly monitored by the Six Tongues while the city itself was now supplying the kingdom with fairly pricy swords while also receiving subventions from the council itself to build up its metallurgical industry. It seemed like the Council of Elders had decided to make his city their main supplier of weapons so as to not ruffle any feathers. He could but snicker a bit. They were building the Witch Cult up with this influx of money. A shame they had been deprived of the city’s production but they no longer needed it. They would make their own.

Hearing the setting of cutlery, Subaru blinked and found himself out of his reverie. The reality, his body had carried him inside Sylphy’s room, who was setting the table for their lunch. Shuffling on the chair, one he had spent longer on than in his own room or throne, he turned to the attentive maid, focusing on her word. He stilled as he watched her work with a most diligent drive, so different from his. Really, she was his opposite. Kind, good, confident, hard-working.

Subaru rested his head on his hand. Taken away from her world and family, betrayed by the world that should have protected her, having fallen prey to the world’s evilness, going as far as to lose her sense of self and personality, maybe even rejecting it… Everyday he looked at her was a reminder of the enormous distance between the two of them. Unbreaking, brave, unbending. And she had still managed to maintain her morals despite the horrid situation she had been put in. Really, there was nothing to compare… He forced a teasing smirk. “So, whatcha cooking, Sylphy?”

At that she clearly frowned, not that her apathetic face revealed the expression. “Sir Natsuki, I am not the one who has made this meal.”

Blinking, Subaru turned to the desk. Two plates of food had already been delivered. “I see…Well, knowing it is you it would have been better than anything I could ever make.”

Her frown worsened a bit further as she turned back to her. Her glistening, alive gaze made him shuffle on his chair. Her hair, a cascade of gold that reflected the small metias’ lights. Her violet blue eyes, despite being apathetic, conveyed too much emotion, too much attention. They looked at him as if he was not a monster. Defeated, his gaze lowered to her face, trailing her nose and lips. “I believe cooking is mastered in practice, Sir Natsuki. I doubt yours could be terrible yet, should you feel that way, I will gladly help you.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I doubt a…Sin-Archbishop could ever be good at cooking.” He had not been after all. Either he just ate whatever rations the Cult prepared, what he stole or whatever dried food had been available. Cooking had always eluded him, not that he had cared for it. Before coming to Lugunica…He shook his head.

“Do you want to be?”

He blinked. Did he? “I have never asked that myself. Did you want to?”

“Not particularly. I never liked cooking.”

A small nod and his hands grabbed the plate. His stare inspected the food. Bland and uninspired, not that the Witch Cult’s kitchen would be any different. The taste, disappointing. He scoffed again. Even he had managed to cook better. His eyes glinted in challenge at the food.

Sylphy paused her gestures. ‘You look like you want to try.’ She didn’t air that thought, less the man in front refused and lost the will to try out of just a desire to contradict her. “...Nevertheless, my skill set is there, sir Natsuki. Maybe you could supervise my work? It is recommended in case you find me untrustworthy.”

“I think I will do just that, Syl. I wouldn’t want you to poison my food too soon, you know? Betrayal must be planned beforehand.”

A tired nod. “I understand, sir Natsuki.” At least this roleplay was lighter to do. Maybe she would come to find it entertaining. She returned to her lunch and Pride, too focused in his inner thoughts, let the conversation die.

…

Subaru sat on his throne, legs crossed and right hand tapping on the armrest. At his right, a standing Sylphy that was willfully refusing to sit on the smaller throne that he had made for her. Rolling his eyes at that for the third time, Subaru shuffled again yet redid his pose. A new recruit, huh…He had never been notified last time around nor had he cared that much so this was really his first time seeing this process. All in all, he needed to be picture perfect. He could not allow a second Sylphy that continuously undermined his authority.

And so minutes passed and Ara and Vela, fairly bigger, sat on his right and left shoulder respectively. A few more and Eight finally arrived. Flanked by Meili and Elsa, she was guiding… His head left his left hand. “...you gotta be kidding me.”

“That is how you welcome us back, Sin-Archbishop?” Elsa, smile bright, bowed at him.

“That was so rude, brother!!” The wolgarm growled below Meilie.

“...Sin-Archbishop?” Eight blinked and turned their gaze back to the two newcomers. “You know the initiate?”

“Silence.” 

And so the three killers lowered their heads, entertainment over. Felt, dressed in black robes stood uncaringly, her ruby eyes returning Pride’s wide-eyed stare in animosity. Unwilling to greet him or even present herself, she advanced forward so that she was in full view of the Sin-Archbishop. The towering columns all around, not mattering to her. The dark light and the moving shadows, not terrifying her a single bit.

“What is a kid doing here, Eight?”

As they opened their mouth Felt let out a growl. Her left hand went to her knife and she activated her Divine Protection. She had not come all this way to be taken lightly by a blue-blooded bastard again! Rushing forwards in the blink of an eye, and breaking through the smallest of forces, she arrived in front of Pride and raised her knife. His bored stare enraged her further and she aimed to stab at his head, movement that moved the cloak and revealed her grievous injury. Before she could, a hand stopped her own.

“Now, now, children should not go running around with knives. They could get cut, after all.” The teasing purr that came from behind tensed Felt up. The prick of a dagger tensed her further. Knowing to be done and dusted, she let go of the knife, its metal resonating inside the throne room as it hit the floor as the roar of her defeat.

“Chill, Elsa…” The dagger left her back. Pride’s gaze finally deviated from her stump, now with clean bandages, and returned to Felt. Subaru shuffled again on his throne, his alertness and attention on the child in front. “Felt Cromwell, yes?”

A curt nod. “I don’t know why I did not expect Pride to be of blue-blood, just my damn luck.”

Subaru raised an eyebrow. “I am as much of a gutter rat as you are.” Slowly rising from his throne, he almost collided against a Felt that refused to back away. “...you have a good mantle. Good catch, Eight.” He bent over a bit, glaring at Felt from above. “But insubordination should come after you know what your opponent can do.”

“...I will take that to heart, freak.” Pulling her hand out of Elsa’s now weak hold, she puffed outwards again, trying to make herself bigger.

“Yes…you are ready.” Nodding a few times to himself, Subaru returned to his throne. “A new mission has arrived, Elsa-tan, Meilia and…Felt. You three, together with two dozen cultists, will go to Costuul. I want to secure a few good crafters of magic items and maybe establish direct contact with Lord Roswaal.” He doubted he was dumb enough to lose Echidna’s body due to Adelheid's rampage but he needed to be fully sure of that, less he had now another enemy.

Sylphy frowned. “Costuul?”

Subaru handwaved Sylphy’s words away. “Ignore my right hand, she sometimes just says random words.”

“That is your entire persona I believe, sir Natsuki.”

He froze. Felt blinked at that. Meili snickered and Elsa’s smirk widened. Shaking his head, he turned towards Sylphy. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Do what? I was just correcting your mistake, sir Natsuki. You are the one that says unintelligible words from time to time.” She tilted her head a bit. “I have to admit it is a quirk that I find endearing but it is one you have.”

Felt’s mouth opened at that statement. Meili’s snickering worsened and Elsa sighed nostalgically, being reminded of the guts she had liked most.

Subaru’s eyes reflected dozens of different thoughts and routes of action. Lightly shaking his head, he chose to act as if he had heard nothing. “Now, Eight will show you your room, Felt. You lot will leave in three days. Be ready for that.”

Two bows and a non-answer and they left the throne room. Sighing, he fell down on his throne. “Did you really have to destroy the setting I had going?”

“Sir Natsuki, please, take your role as a Sin-Archbishop somewhat seriously.”

“I am!!”

………..

Chapter Text

The Sword Saintess walked silently under the moonlight as she escorted the defeated and silent Emilia towards the palace. She…had no words to give to the poor half-elf. The past weeks had been…rough on her. While their proper time together had been half a month at the start, she had truly enjoyed teaching her swordsmanship and politics, her bubbly and happy personality. And then the Trials arrived. Emilia had braved them in the relative solitude that Lord Roswaal and Miss Ram, busy with the injuries of the former, caused to her. She had not managed to overcome them. Day after day, she had felt her cracking more and more. The Great Spirit of Fire had also failed to make an appearance, further worsening the problem. And so the Emilia of old had never reappeared, leaving in her shadows an unconfident, wavering and fearful girl filled with regrets that was becoming more and more depressed by the day.

And so the Sword Saintess had decided to shoulder the duty. The Sword Saintess did not tense up from the memories. And she had failed and, most shamefully, had blown the timeless construct. While eerie and fairly mean-spirited, she had stolen Lady Emilia’s chance to overcome her past and she herself had not even been able to do so. The Sword Saintess did not skip a step. She had been shown mere facts, mere objective truths, to reject them, their meaning, was mere delusion. Just a failure to see reality…Yet, despite that and not minding the truth or falsehood, a man had decided as such and his words, still, shamefully resonated in her mind. A most sinful reprieve but one she was…unable to forget.

It was a most rotten realisation she had undergone these past days, to know that his words had lightened the weight on her shoulders the tiniest bit. “Are you ready to face the Council, Lady Emilia? Be reassured, it is only to report on the happenstance during Sanctuary.” The Sword Saintess’ gaze softened as her attention turned towards her lady.

Her hand on the silent magic crystal she always wore around her neck. Her gaze, lost in the ahead, seeing the past. “I…understand. I-I will try to, to do my best.”

Ram, to her left, repressed a scoff. She had no pity nor worry over the doll of her master. “That is the only thing Lord Roswaal asks from you, Lady Emilia.” Those empty words uttered, Ram’s attention returned to her task, no matter that she did not understand why it was necessary. She would act and do and that would be it. 

The Sword Saintess shuffled but let the matter drop. There was nothing she could say that would mend their relationship. If anything, meddling in or forcing it would only widen the cracks, if taking into account the maid’s current emotions. “I am grateful to hear, Lady Emilia.”

A weak, forced and dimming smile. “Thanks, Ram, Adelheid, I…”

“The half-devil is here…move along.” That nearby whisper casted a new shadow on her face. As always, any and all citizens evaded her on the streets, opening a wide path for the trio of women to walk, even if it had gotten slightly better after the Witch Cult’s declaration. Of course, the road was filled with carriages loaded with boxes and ravenously escorted by knights and loyal men at arms, moving around important cargo towards the armories to refill them.

Frowning, the Sword Saintess gazed to that person and noticed another group of troubadours decrying the illegitimate actions of the Kingdom, their choice to protect the knights and the army before the common people and merchants, the worsened Martial Law, her own failures, the excesses of nobility and dozens of fair and acceptable grievances the common folk had and resonated with. Nothing wrong with their words, for they were an undeniable truth that the Sword Saintess had known from the start. In the current reality, however, these statements were not that helpful towards combating the threat…The threat that refused to…She shook her head and readied herself to face the council. She and Ram would need to…

“Where were you when my house was burnt to the ground, Sword Saintess?!?!” The enraged scream made her blink. Turning to her left, she saw a drunkard seated on a bench. Poorly dressed and showing signs of malnutrition, they wavered in fear when her gaze fell on them and they looked down. A few of their mutuals growled, animosity clear to everyone in the street. Yet they were also terrified once her eyes slightly shifted to them. The recrimination, of course, made all of the people next to those idiots retreat from them as if they had the plague. Really, to insult the Sword Saintess was to do so to a demigod.

She forced her gaze back to the palace. It was expected. She had failed them and let most of the city burn. Her hand clenched her sword. It would not happen again. Frowning slightly in determination, thing that caused that bunch of people to also reconsider their duties and current walks and disappear from view, their group finally reached the palace. The tripled guards, knowing who they were, opened the reinforced doors and let them pass.

The insides looked like a war conference of a kingdom at war. Countless knights and soldiers patrolled the hallways, rooms were inspected routinely and most windows had been barred. Few servants and a pinch of bureaucrats ran around carrying armfulls of documents and orders. The re-armament of the kingdom was progressing and so training regimes had to be redone and enforced, military doctrine had to be revised and re-tested and war-games and exercises had to be drafted and celebrated. All in all, a hive of activity that further shrunk Emilia in herself. While having been learning to deal with this, the titanic task now seemed completely beyond her. 

A reassuring pat from the Sword Saintess and she smiled drily. She had to appear strong and she would. Their steps, this time, were filled with difficulty. Most soldiers and knights were fearless of her, thing that had been drilled into them so as to maintain discipline and try to limit the possibility of harming the kingdom’s relations with the candidate who was backed by the Hope and Hero of the kingdom.

Reaching the throne room, a veritable crowd of commanders, captains and noble knights in charge of their private armies were buzzing all around, making even more difficult their advance towards the very busy council.

Miklotov, sweating a bit under the past weeks of non-stop working, noticed the silver hair that always caused other people to move away, even if a tiny bit, and handed back the report he had just received. “Oh, Royal Candidate Emilia, I hope that your travels were devoid of problems this time around. You mentioned via letter another attack for the Witch Cult, yes?”

At those words half of the room turned to the newcomer who buckled under that pressure. “I…I-”

“Yes, we did, Elder Miklotov.” The Sword Saintess advanced a step and kneeled in front of the council. Emilia blinked in regret and lowered her head, hand clenching around the magic stone. “The Witch Cult infiltrated and attacked Sanctuary with the intention of destroying the Tomb that laid inside the village and powered the barrier. After the construct did so they withdrew under the covers of a fire they inflicted onto the forest. They stole some valuables but no items of relevance nor were there any casualties apart from a few injured people.”

Miklotov shuffled on his chair. “The Tomb…” His gaze flickered to Bordeaux, who nodded slightly. The Sword Saintess report had been accurate. “Was there anything of interest there they needed gone?” His hands tugged at his beard. “Or was there something that would have been useful to us? Did you manage to get any information from them?”

The Sword Saintess shook her head. “I was unable to gaze into their intentions beyond the fact that they had investigated my background quite extensively, going as far as to know secrets that only a few closest to the Van Astrea house could know.” A small frown appeared. “I believe some of the upper parts of the kingdom may be compromised.”

That statement echoed inside the room, causing several waves of whispers. 

“Isn’t that deflection from your own house, Sword Saintess?”

“Shouldn’t your household be properly investigated before you draw such conclusions?”

“You dare divert your last failure towards the protectors and safeguarders of the Kingdom? Those that were chosen by the very Dragon that founded it?!”

And half another dozen accusations like those were thrown towards the Hero that had fought in the first row against the evil that had tried to destroy their order. Miklotov, noticing the heating atmosphere, shuffled on his couch. “That was a dangerous statement, Sword Saintess. Is it beyond mere hypothetical inferences?”

She lowered her head.

“I see. Do not diminish the prestige and honour of your fellow nobles by baseless accusations by using your position, Sword Saintess.” That recrimination silenced the room inside yet he felt cold sweat running through his back. The Hero lowered her head even further, noticing the slight terror in Miklotov’s mind at having told her off. And it was contagious, for the waves flowing through the room soon echoed in the other direction. Most nobles paled and a few dishonest apologies were muttered. All around, terror and fear directed at her was evident. Emilia, a bit panicked, did not better the situation when her head was raised and she started to look all around. 

“I honestly apologise, Elder Miklotov. My paranoia will not inconvenience the Council again.”

A slow nod. “...seeting aside your failure to deal with the Witch Cult, we would like to thank Lady Emilia still. Despite your lack of abiding by your words, we understand the impossibility of having been true to them due to your circumstances and we are glad to notify you that the earth mages are no longer necessary. The capital has been repaired.”

Ram and the Sword Saintess did not show surprise. Emilia, however, jumped, eyes revealing her confusion.

Bordeaux frowned and Miklotov turned towards her, seeing their imagined puppetmaster as who she was, a girl that was too honest for her own good. “Were you unaware of the fact that a band of traveling earth mages under the name of Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks had decided to offer their services to the capital?”

“Uhm…” Emilia nodded. “I have no idea who they are…Who is Meili?”

Miklotov blinked. ‘Then, who was behind them?! Who, praise be the Divine Dragon, were they?!’ As he opened his mouth, the palace trembled, dust falling from the roof.

Silence was now a roar inside the room. All motion had stopped as they collectively looked up, hoping to Dragon and Od Laguna that it was an earthquake. That their fear would not be…

“Testing, testing…Huh…this magic tool is sure handy.” A somewhat metallic voice they all knew and recognised assaulted their ears from atop the palace.

…

Standing on top of the palace, his cloak billowed behind him. His right foot, stepping on an ornamental statue in the center of the front and just above the gates, was half in the air. His hands, tapping a megaphone-looking metia. Quite neat but fairly mana consuming and so he was borrowing it. In front of the palace, a small congregation of people were trying to see who was the crazed man with two spirits standing in the palace. “What more to say…” His words thundered across the centre of the capital, not revealing the dozen of safe houses that they had built.

Really, he was done with this celebration. It had taken way too long to get readied thanks to the reinforced patrols and intact army that they had had. Sighing, motion that was communicated to all of the city, Subaru tilted his head, frowning a tiny bit at the still growing crowd below, mostly demihumans. “Oh!! I had almost forgotten!!” His smirk grew. Fifth and Eight, at his right and left, shuffled. Behind him, fifty cultists of his Sharp Legion remained in standby. “I did not present myself to the capital last go around, right? Sin-Archbishop representing Pride, Natsuki Subaru-!!

Twenty six pieces of artillery were shot, half from the east and the other from the west, both from out of the city. The shells, aimed with perfect accuracy and having taken into account wind and climate, impacted against each other just above Subaru, their explosive payload roaring in presentation. Under that rain of fire and light that banished the night, Subaru’s figure was fully unveiled on top of the palace. 

“-and I have decided to return to the capital at this very particular midnight!! A few seconds until the next day comes and you all know what relevancy this particular date has, I am sure of it!!” Joyful and happy words that went almost unheard as the crowd below started to panic when a tenth of them unveiled their dark masks and took them hostages. Raising his left hand, he roared. “Ten seconds left for the new year, guys!! Nine, eight-!!”

The city exploded into movement. The black plague that was the Witch Cult rushed through the roads, forcibly bringing around five hundred people to the front of the palace, daggers on their throats. Knights and men at arms, together with militia, rushing out of their post and tailoring the evilness, encircled them around the main plaza and roads in front of the palace. The knights inside the building also left it out in a hurried frenzy. Adelheid first, she immediately took notice of the hostages. Turning around, she gazed upwards and she saw the Sin-Archbishop in front, arms extended.

“[...], three, two, one!!” He breathed in, making everybody tense up. “Happy Birthday, Adelheid!!!”

That roar resounded all around the city, calling into attention several people. Silence fell onto them all like a dense coat out of the sheer inanity of that statement, and calmness was forced onto everyone. A few whispers flew from there and there. Yes…today was both the beginning of the new year and Adelheid’s birthday. Some of the hostages, already having faced this same treatment last time, growled a bit in confusion. One of the demihumans frowned, seeing a pattern.

Adelheid missed a step, frowning deeply as her perfect vision focused on the Sin-Archbishop with a shit-eating grin. She had not even remembered that today was her birthday nor had she expected anyone to be glad she had been born nor for it to be celebrated. And the first person that had done so, one that was never scared of her, had been the one who named himself her nemesis.

“And what does every birthday need?!?!” His entertained, ecstatic, mad roar silenced the whispers again. “Well, for one, presents!!” And so he stepped forward and jumped off the palace. His freefall was quickly joined by Fifth and Eight, the former apathetic and the latter the tiniest bit exasperated. Just before impact Vela shone its shadows and their descent turned into a soft landing. The metia was uncaringly dropped out of his hands as he advanced towards Adelheid. His back towards the gate, he seemed to miss both Ram and the knights readying a response. Crossbows were raised, spells readied and glares turned to him.

Adelheid, hand in her dragon sword, slightly turned towards the hostages, forced to look at the two of them in the centre of the plaza, as if it was just for the two of them. She returned her attention towards the Sin-Archbishop, left hand with four fingers raised, as his right entered his cloak. She pulled half of the Dragon Sword out in an instinctive reaction. Her gaze, now a dagger, focused on what Subaru was searching for in his cloak.

“...There you go. A flower for someone who should not be the Sword Saintess.” Adelheid blinked when she saw a cornflower. A literal cornflower made from tinted glass that looked just like the real deal, if bigger and more durable-looking. Green and violets glinted under the moonlight as her body grew colder. A work of art, painfully sculpted second by second by the Sin-Archbishops hands. Its craft was…beyond average. Obsessively perfected. Another wave of silence fell behind the Sin-Archbishop. Julius blinked, not believing the scene. Ram frowned. Emilia, mouth opened, watched as Adelheid backed half a step yet stretched a hand half-way to it. A few knights lowered their crossbows a bit.

The people around close enough to see blinked and started to whisper. The hostages, purely confused, gazed at each other. They had been kidnapped for…this? For the Sin-Archbishop of Pride to wish Adelheid a happy birthday? The cultists, as always, immobile. Eight, however, blinked at that gesture. She…had not been notified of that.

“Come on, now, my arm’s getting tired, Adel…” His smirk, teasing and sarcastic. His eyes, glinting in entertainment and enmity. His emotions and feelings, wholly on her with their impressive and contradictory storm of always. This time, however, it had a tinge of pride at his work. At having surprised her so much that her sword had fallen back into the sheath without her realising.

Blinking, her gaze examined the flower, not seeing any trap in it. Her left hand touched the borders of the flower. Warm? It was warm. Slowly, very slowly, her hand grasped it and pulled it back. Heavy. Too big to be grabbed by one mere hand. She blinked, her wariness vanishing a tiny bit despite her best wishes. Her fingers traced the glass, carved with too much care. With too much attention. Too much energy. For her. All of that had been wasted for her. How many hours had this robbed him? And, for half a second, it was her and that flower in her hands. Too unused to gifts, her fingers tried to extract all sensations from it as fast as possible, each petal painstakingly unique. Her Divine Protections kicked into overdrive, toning down her wave of emotions, and her glare returned to Pride.

“Isn’t it a sweet irony of a gift, Adel? It’s just the first one, though.”

“...if this was the only reason for your visit, Sin-Archbishop, we could have gone without the hostages.” Her ears caught the sound of the entire army located in the capital finishing their movements. Now numbering around three thousand, if mostly levies without training and only equipment, they were circling around the palace, finally trapping most of the Witch Cult in front of the palace. The rest, trying to locate their safe houses with more hostages. Earth Dragon riders were nearing the gates to charge towards the artillery positions but, for now, neither side could move without harming the innocents trapped in Pride’s clutches.

“Oh, but it wouldn’t have been as fun, would it now?” He twirled on his place, enjoying the hundreds directed at him. Fearing him. Taking him seriously. Seeing him. Hearing him. “After all, isn’t it New Year? What kind of celebration would not have any people on it?”

Miklotov, having left the palace with the council too and having learnt his lesson, simply arrived next to Julius without saying anything, the latter’s worried gaze looking at the merchant district.

“And, don’t you know the true beauty of this situation right now?!” His voice cut through all of them, uncaring for the four hundred crossbows and bows aimed at him. Stopping his movement, his smirk widened into a full smile as he tilted his head at Adelheid. “You.”

“...?” Not understanding where he was getting at, Adelheid tensed up. Could she deal with the entire plaza without injuring anyone…

“See? That’s the look I despise most.” Her attention flared back at him. Her sword came out at the bloodthirsty tone of his. His smile no longer reached his eyes. “The look of the Hero. The look of the Sword Saintess. The look of one who carries the weight of the entire world.” He advanced a step towards her, close enough to punch each other. “If you were Adel, you would be able to deal with me right now with no problems.” His fake smile worsened. “But you are the Sword Saintess and she would never be able to make the trade. Too kind, too self-sacrificing, thinking herself the only one capable, the only one who should be forced into saving the world.” Another step. Close enough to headbut. His words turned fully dark, a wave of chill that struck the plaza. “And so she remains static, unchanging. You are just you, Adelheid. A person. Finally realise that somewhen, alright?”

One of the men at arms’ squished their crossbow too much. The string was unleashed and the bolt rushed towards Subaru’s head. His smile gained some honesty and he tilted it. The projectile, now free to hit one of the hostages behind Adelheid, was parried by her dragon sword.

The man at arms almost threw away their crossbow. The tension that had been created could have been cut with a knife. Subaru, after a few seconds, did so with a snicker. “Good aim.” He turned around, his gaze making the man at arms pale. He lowered a finger. “Let’s see mine, yes?”

The twenty six pieces of artillery shot again, this time aimed at the west and east gates. The impact broke the walls, making them reverberate all around the city and closing those exits off in a mountain of debris. The ground shook a tiny bit under the potency of what had been the Kingdom's power. That sudden attack caused another fourteen bolts to be shot out of surprise. Adelheid jumped into action, blocking all those shots threatening to wound the hostages or cultists behind out of worry for what the next finger would do.

Smiling brightly, Subaru clapped his hands. “Thats a lot of very bad aim, isn’t it?” 

All of the knights shuffled, looking at their still silent commanders. ‘How had they failed again?!’ Was the thought in almost all of them. The sewers had been secured, patrols had been everywhere, they had been readied for every possi…One of the commanders tensed up when Subaru turned to look straight at them.

“What? Wondering how I got here? Well, by a lot of trial and error, you could say. Test a wall enough times and you will find footholes to climb it.” And with the casualness he had answered the question Subaru lowered the finger. Another barrage. This time? Aimed at his position. At the plaza they all were in.

Adelheid jumped into the air, getting ready to divert all projectiles. And she left just in time for a very quiet Wilhelm to finally arrive into the plaza, as if all pauses had been planned for. Unsheathing his sword, he advanced towards Pride without uttering a sound, quickly entering into no-man's land after breaking through the battlelines. The men of the kingdom shuffled, growing confused and dreading what Wilhelm’s advance meant to the hostages. The commanders paled. Miklotov roared. “Sir Wilhelm, back a-”

The Sword Demon rushed ahead. Sword ready for the slash, his jump cracked the ground below and his demonic speed moved him almost immediately in front of Pride. Fifth jumped into his defense and found their tower shield, sword and plate armour cut through. The mere energy behind the slash knocked them into the air. They found themselves flying five metres through the plaza and soon impacted against the ground, rolling around and severely denting the armour. Their life, almost extinguished by that singular strike.

“You don’t really chill, huh. Did the Whale thingy piss you off this much?” Subaru’s smile was joined by both him extending his arms to the sides and the thunder of another volley. “But, really, this level of…”

“It is as I thought.” Wilhelm flicked the sword, trying to clean the blood of it as if it was the worst corruption he had seen. “You won’t kill hostages.” The blood tainted the ground, drawing a line between them and the place where the latters were. Saying nothing else and ignoring the riling up men behind him, he moved forward.

Eight jumped into his defense. Their initial Al-Goal was cut without giving them the chance to even finish their casting. The second slash would have taken their eyes had the longbowmen from the roof not let go of their arrows, raining a destructive rain that Wilhelm had to deal with. Every stab, parry and dodge of perfect skill further incensed the new levies all around the plaza, increasing their battle readiness to dangerous levels.

The commanders, screaming orders in increasing fright, paled once the first blood-hotted boy rushed forward, screaming in fury and willing to fight the Witch Cult. Knowing they had lost control over the situation, they watched mortified as the new recruits, by their inertia, pulled a good portion of the inexperienced lines towards the Sin-Archbishop. How their own army put the hostages at risk and brought the battle to them. Miklotov, white, watched as an enormous Shamak covered the battlefield, blocking all the combat noises that resulted from their men, now in complete chaos, hitting each other as they revolted against the magic.

Growling, Bordeaux hit the air with his right. “Mages, dispel that Shamak and get ready to shoot at will.” It was too late to do anything else. They were engaged in combat. They must win fast and hard to limit civilian casualties. The nine hundred soldiers that had not lost themselves to excitement, mostly knights, crossbowmen and veterans, turned to the Elder, surprised by his callous order. “Crossbowmen, purge the longbowmen from the top of the palace!” That order had come a tad late, for they had already vacated the place. “After that, get ready to shoot at will at the Cult!”

…

Sylphy, with the rest of the Sharp Legion, stood with an apathetic face as the cultists retreated with measured and planned steps out of the cloud of Shamak while pushing most of the hostages out of danger by setting them free next to the alleyways, to their complete bewilderment, while keeping a tenth for protection. The Iron Believers turned around first, setting an iron blockage that would become unbreakable thanks to their newly made armours. Their halberds, three lines deep of pain. A veritable wall in the middle of the road. Now retreating backwards, the sides around them were defended by Pride’s Wolves loaded with shields, slightly angled to funnel the incoming army towards the iron believers.

And, after fourteen seconds after its appearance, the cloud of Shamak was finally dispelled. And behind it was an army almost fighting against itself. Crawling into a stop, the army finally realised they had been stepping on some of their comrades that had fallen onto the ground. A noticeable portion of the ones still standing were wounded thanks to the frenzy under the artificial blindness. And so, the first bloods of this tiny skirmish had been bled by the Kingdom and from their own soldiers. After all, chaos and entropy were always changing, the tiniest wind could evolve into enormous variation. Pride’s Authority was, after all, not invincible. No matter how much you prepared, probabilities always remain uncertain from a case to case basis.

Nonetheless, the Witch Cult tightened their formation, getting ready for the next tide for, having engaged in battle, another portion of the army broke from the redoubled orders of the commanders that were trying to take advantage of the shock of shamak to bring order. Two dozen militia rushed towards them.

Sylphy did not blink when the lowbows let go of their string, their aim tearing into the legs and shoulders of the rushing enemies. Only one lucky man managed to dodge, or be missed by the barrage and he found himself alone in front of a spear wall. His rush and excitement died and he turned to retreat. He got shot in his right leg.

Sylphy did not flinch when the uncountable crossbows unleashed their payload nor at the dozens of mages and court mages their magical payload. Enough firepower to destroy their formation twice over, she watched in full confidence of Pride’s battleplan. 

Before the volley hit, a slash of energy from above slammed against it, carving a hole into the road in front of the Witch Cult and disintegrating all of it. The Sword Saintess, having ended her job in the skies, landed in front of the Cult. Her gaze, having noticed the terrified hostages still in their hands, turned towards the army. Her face, a frown at the order given to attack despite the civilians involved. Her eyes, flickering to the sides, where some of the hostages had stayed in deathly curiosity or worry at friends or family still trapped and had paled at that attack.

A wave of murmurs invaded the army, the battlefield now looking like them against their Hope, their Hero, one who was heretically siding with their mortal enemies. The commanders turned to each other. Knights, confused, lowered their weapons. Men at arms and militia did, some out of fear, others of being unwilling to comply with that callous order, most out of inertia.

Bordeaux advanced a step, voice loud. His eyes, searching for a Wilhelm and Sin-Archbishop that were no longer there. “Sword Saintess, the Council of Elders orders you to engage the-!”

And the last volley of their ammunition was shot again. Using that perfect excuse, The Sword Saintess devoured all of the nearby atmospheric mana and jumped again to block that artillery strike. The Witch Cult broke lines and rushed down the road, quickly smashing through the small force that had tried to block their retreat and had been preparing a wall down the road. Their distance, too much for the crossbow bolts to be able to pierce through their shields and armours.

“After them!!” 

The Kingdom’s army, too inexperienced, was too slow to move for that order to matter. Their earth dragon raiders, incapable of following swiftly inside the slums that the Witch Cult took residence in.

Watching as the noose tightened around them, Bordeaux advanced a slow step just for the metia that Subaru had dropped to play a pre-recorded message when the Sword Saintess landed again, the mana around returning to normal. “I said presents!! This is the second one!! And the third?! The third is I gift you my third victory, Adel!!” And just as those words ended, the palace started to tremble, its foundations sinking into the ground.

“Evacuate the building!!”

…

Just as Vela casted the Shamak Subaru dived into the floor, having the spot he needed to collide against memorised. The strike of the Sword Demon, too accurate and fast, was slowed by uncanny winds that allowed Pride to swim through the stone as if it was water. The Demon Sword dived next, his instincts guiding him towards that escape route and uncaring for the wind magic that had slowed him.

First to drop, Subaru rushed ahead while Ara flared up in flames, consuming all the oxygen in that zone and causing another coat of shadows that was even more effective in the almost dark tunnel sewers. The demon that landed behind was uncaring of the scorching heat, smoke or lack of breathable air. He simply hounded like Death itself towards the retreating Sin-Archbishop.

Another cloak of Shamak and Wilhelm found himself missing again. Subaru, utilising Murak to jump around the tunnels and ceiling, had managed to evade himself again. His deranged smile, a challenge. “Come on, Old Man Wil, gotta do b-”

The ground cracked and he flashed in front of a flying away Subaru. A Vita slowed a tiny bit his swing and significantly sped Subaru’s fall from the ceiling, act that, together with him doubling, dodged the first stab. Falling faster than Wilhelm, Subaru reactivated Murak and Ara spewed a torrent of fires, propelling him with reckless haste. 

Wilhelm, once landing, rushed forward, his inhuman legs not falling short on catching the retreating Sin-Archbishop. Snapping his fingers, the Vita was applied towards sections of the old top of the tunnel, weakened by time and use. A small rumbling and a rain started below ground, rocks and stones now slowing slightly the Demon Sword’s movements, sword and eyes glinting in the darkness as he pitilessly cut down any and all obstacles.

Gravity unable to be fully cancelled, Subaru redirected Ara to target the Demon Sword as he landed roughly and started to roll through the tunnel. The red and yellows were cut by a sizzling Wilhelm, his eyes outduing the cruelty of the flames. His next step warned him and he jumped, dodging a prepared pitfall. His instincts warned him again and he twirled into the air, sword deflecting the sprung traps that threw daggers and darts at him.

Not content with that, the very walls, ground and ceiling shrunk and moved around, making the tunnel a moving piece that obeyed Pride’s every command. Wilhelm refused Pride’s lordship, kicking the walls and ceilings to redirect him everforward, evercloser towards his prey. New walls and obstacles got cut down. He dodged and jumped over sudden stalactites and stalagmites.

Ara fluttered again, growing more and more agitated. Shining in emotion, in the determination of defending their contractor from the monster ahead, Ara burst into flames accumulated through months of almost permanent contact with its contractor. Advancing a step towards becoming a spirit, the new quasi-spirit unveiled all of its power and roared in a pale imitation of the Dragon’s power. Its torrent of flames completely filled up the insides of the tunnel, melting stone and heating the surface. It could have gone on for almost half a minute had the Sword Demon not cut through the fires.

Clothes burning, skin bruised and burned, Wilhelm’s glare was not on the spirit even as his sword swung at it. But he had made a mistake in trusting a jump, for gravity was reversed and he flew towards the brownish ceiling, the blade missing the spirit by a hair width. Turning around and not that surprised, Wilhelm kicked the melted ceiling and turned around just in time to see a smirking Subaru point at the ground. His eyes, however, were promising murder, having seen him kill Ara in cold blood too many times for it to ever be forgiven or forgotten.

Vela puffed out in hatred, in full resonance with its contractor, despising the Sword Demon that would have murdered its companion without even taking note of it. And so an El-Vita was casted, spending all of its mana in honour of the killing-intent that was trying to equal the Sword Demon’s. Shadows left Vela as it also advanced its first step towards spirithood.

And so the ground cracked up the intensity of the spell. Wilhelm was forced to almost a stop, each of his individual steps costing a mountain of effort. The walls cracked and started to cave in themselves while the melted ceiling disentangled from itself and fell like a coat, its speed causing a thunder as it impacted against the floor.

The shadows spent, Vela shrunk into itself when Ara joined them. Both quasi-spirits exhausted beyond measure, they retreated into Subaru’s cloak, his cold gaze on the quickly cooling rock that had been stabbed with the sword. An angered scream, a punch and a new rain of rocks assaulted the tunnel. Wilhelm, most cloths burnt away and with severe burns all over his body, glared at Pride. Flickering his sword, he advanced a slow step, leaving the broken bed of rocks behind. “I expected all this low trickery from you, Pride.”

“I am ecstatic to know that I met your expectatives, Old Man.” Mocking smile on, Subaru bowed with theatrical fashion. Wilhelm’s suspicion at him not having retreat would wear off very shortly and angering him would cost him more time. He still did it. Still, he was fairly sure his Magnum Opus was arriving shortly. 

His steps stopped, eyes searching into the nearby shadows. The underground labyrinth they have been fighting in was unknown. The chaos above, the perfect cower for the low rumbling of the palace under the sun. Redoing his stance, the Sword Demon’s glare turned to Pride. “I would ask for your last words but you do not deserve to utter them.” Wilhelm readied himself to jump against Pride. The sound of a spell casting at his left interrupted that motion.

“Oh, come on, I just have one word. It will be quick, I wear.” His smirk widened. “Palace.”

The ground suddenly wailed, crying out in pain as three dozen earth mages carved and weakened the foundations of the palace all around the underground. Stone melted into paste, wood was rotten and the Palace groaned its last as it tilted and started to sink.

The Sword Demon blinked and threw his sword just as the palace’s fall sped up and it went down. The last thing Subaru saw before he turned to run away was Wilhelm turning up and getting ready to punch through the once floor quickly approaching him.

The palace hit and the entire city trembled as the building collapsed under its weight due to that terrifying impact. Nearby buildings joined in the collapse during its aftermath, and most windows in the city shattered. A storm of stone and dirt was kicked into action, striking the centre of the city as a veritable blizzard of dust and small pieces of rock. The carefully planned for demolition, perfectly contained in the space the palace had occupied.

And so Subaru cackled, his tone dissonant. Uncaring to the sword stabbed deep into his midsection, the countless bruises and broken bones, the Sin-Archbishop of Pride continued laughing as he retreated through collapsing tunnels and rivers of fecal matter that had been agitated into angered torrents. Dust soon turned everything dark.

…

Tired of waiting at the end of the still smoking sewers, Sylphy dived into the tunnels, quickly followed by an almost worried Eight while Fifth, mortally wounded, was being treated behind so that they did not go into the other world. It was a bad idea, the visibility inside was almost null and they were more walking blind than anything. Yet neither of the two said anything about stopping while they advanced towards where they thought was the direction towards the ex-palace.

After a few minutes, and the visibility turning fully null, they found a glint of red. A fire spirit. Sylphy rushed forward first, just in time to grab a Subaru, face white and clothes now red from his own blood. Glassy and unfocused gaze, he turned to her with a smile. “I won, Syl. I can win.” It really was no win nor was it relevant. He had managed to get one over the grandfather of the Sword Saintess. Their power was on different scales. It was mere delusion to think that surviving a run in with the Sword Demon was noteworthy when compared with Adelheid.

“Yes, sir Natsuki. You won.” Moving to support him, Sylphy grabbed his right arm while Eight did the same on the other side. The latter, frowning a tiny bit, pulled the sword out and cast her fire magic, cauterising his wound and making him groan in pain.

“God, brings back memories…” Subaru laughed at the joke only he understood. More carried than anything, he managed to glance backwards. He knew Wilhelm would survive. After all, he had carried him to the place where the kitchen would fall, letting him enter into one of the more sturdy rooms of the palace. With any luck, his calculations on it resisting the sinking would also survive this round. Blinking, he turned back to the front. “...any dead?”

Sylphy blinked at the question.

“Just soldiers of the kingdom during the chaos of Shamak.”

Subaru paused. Shaking his head, his mutter surprised the three of them. “Fucking idiots.”

“...I don’t believe it was your fault, sir Natsuki. They charged in by themselves.”

Subaru rolled his eyes at that foolish attempt to console. “Sylphy, first of all, I do not care that they died. Second, they charged us because we were there.” He breathed out, his body screaming in pain. “I…am too tired for this argument.”

She sighed. ‘Then why did you ask?’ “I see. Do be warned that you can rest now. We are all safe and sound, sir Natsuki.”

“...Like I care…” His eyes, despite his best intentions, started to close as if his subconsciousness knew he was in safe, trustworthy hands. Him passing out sped up the two escorts he had. Subaru needed a healer now.

…

Subaru blinked, awakening from a sleep that had been too deep to have nightmares. “I don’t recognise that ceiling.”

“That’s…a very weird thing to say first thing in the evening, sir Natsuki.”

Blinking away, being surprised at not being startled by that voice, Subaru frowned and turned to his right, where Sylphy had been waiting with perfect composure and her usual apathetic face. Of course, for Subaru it was anything but apathetic, having learnt all of her tiny gestures as if they were evident. Worry being exchanged by sudden relief, happiness being kicked away by a bit of anger at his recklessness, a wave of tiredness as her body relaxed and let her know of her own lack of sleep. “Well, I try to be unpredictable I will have you know, alright?”

Sylphy tilted her head. “I am surprised then, I find you most predictable as your routine of running away injured from all of your encounters is, by now, a tradition.”

“Hey!” The loud word paining his chest, he shrunk a tiny pit. Breathing in, he tried to move his arms only to see his right hand to be grabbed by Sylphy. His frown worsening, he turned to her.

“You were groaning in your sleep, sir Natsuki.” Her cold eyes revealed compassion and regret at not being able to help more. “I feared for your movements to worsen your conditions and so I grasped your hand to offer whatever relief I could.”

Subaru’s gaze stabbed into their hands…Why had she…For him? For… Natsuki Subaru tried to pull the hand away with severe prejudice unsuccessfully. His voice lowered to a growl. “I see. Don’t do that again.”

“I will not obey that order, sir Natsuki.”

He grew still. “What do you mean no, Sylphy? You obey me.”

“Yes. But not that particular order.” Sylphy’s determined gaze was now steel. “I refuse to not try and comfort you when you are in pain, sir Natsuki.”

“Why?!” His free hand hit the bed, causing a new wave of pain and proving worthless in its try to intimidate the woman. “I am the Sin-Archbishop of Pride!! Not a boy lost in a city!!”

“I know, sir Pride, and I do not care for the specifics. I merely want to and so I will.” Her lips curled up a tiny bit. “And I won’t apologise for it, a thing that you have drilled into me.”

Subaru opened his mouth. Before he could retort his two spirits, woken up by his emotional turmoil, flew into the room and started to fly above him. Their worry, fear and happiness, evident and being radiated into him through their contract. Into the unworthy…Natsuki Subaru’s tone lowered even further. “Do you want me to get angry, Sylphy?”

“I don’t fear your fury, sir Natsuki. My life is yours, my freedom is yours, my humanity is yours.” She shuffled on her seat and inched a bit closer, still refusing to let go of that hand. “There’s little you could do that will scare me away.”

“Oh…is that so?!” He tried to sit up only for his body to reject that idea and stop halfway into that motion. He fell back on the bed. “Once I get out of this bed I will prove how…”

“Yes, yes…” Interrupted, uncaring, Sylphy. Turning to the tray next to her, she expertly manoeuvred it with a single hand and extended it to him. “...now, before you continue to mess around, are you thirsty?”

His enraged and vindictive black-eyed stared promised retribution as he stubbornly refused to gaze at the tray with food and water that made his stomach growled. “Syl…”

Her gaze lost the still and returned to the worry that stabbed his heart more painfully than his body. “Please, sir Natsuki. Haven’t you won? Take this as a bit of a celebration and properly rest. At least for today. Let me do my maidly duty.”

“...you aren’t a maid…” His grumble, less aggressive, a raised white flag. Fine. Right now he would take anything to stop Sylphy’s worry. Him not deserving...wanting it would be addressed later. His eyes widened as Sylphy left the chair and grabbed the spoon, as if she was going to feed him. “Wait…wait a minute. I am a damned Sin-Archbishop, I refuse to be…”

She did not wait nor allowed that refusal to go through. Never one to be subtle nor scheming, Sylphy had decided to choose a rather basic approach. To simply keep pushing until his walls came undone.

…………

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?!?!”

 …………

Chapter Text

Four sleepless days helping around the reconstruction of the capital, the Sword Saintess stared at the ruins of the old palace. The bulwark of the old Royal Family, of the Lugunica ancestry, toppled down as an afterthought. As something secondary. And, even if the Dragon Tablet had been managed to be evacuated, the destruction of this monument, of the physical representation of the power of the kingdom, had already sent ripples through the capital. Interestingly enough, though…Her gaze flickered backwards, remembering the cheering crowd of mostly slum dwellers cheering at the sight, at the old world’s power crumbling to dust and rubble. She frowned as she remembered how hard they had been dispersed.

Shaking her head, and trying to ignore the new riot next to one of the barracks her sharp ears heard from here, her gaze returned to the ruins. Power was really a fickle and fragile thing. A symbolic gesture and the collapse of mere rock had submerged the capital into a chaos that had frozen its normal functioning for almost an entire week. Not even the new training regimes could be resumed as the men at arms were required to act as temporal guards to reinforce the garrison. However, the Sword Saintess did not know if that was worsening the problem, for their lack of manners, discipline and growing gendarmery was further increasing the unrest.

She shuffled in place, her eyes lowering to the dragon sword that had defended the Sin-Archbishop. Treason, she had been accused in the spur of the moment. ‘We ordered you to engage!’ Elder Bordeaux’s words resonated still in her head. The kingdom had decided to engage in combat and put all of the hostages in danger. Were they really necessary casualties? Her heart had screamed no. She had defended her position. They had shot at innocents and so she had acted.

‘It does not matter what we do, Sword Saintess! The chain of command is there for a reason! Had you obeyed it, we would have dealt an enormous blow to the Witch Cult! Upwards of half a thousand cultists and the Sin-Archbishop of Pride would have been felled!’ Her hand clenched her dragon sword. She had saved fifty innocents and she had been admonished. Yet…could even a monster like her be able to live with that choice? Had she…let it happen, would it have been better? Would the threat…

She shook her head. For more that she thought about the matter she would never come to regret her choice. Her hand relaxed on the sword. The past was done and dusted with and what remained was the present and future. Next time she would have to…to what? The three times Pride had attacked he had done so with enormous planning, leaving very little to chance. And, while she was sure he bluffed half of the time, that still made it as dangerous as if he did not. To simply test a landmine by stepping on it was neither advisable nor reliable strategy.

Her left hand, echoing her thoughts, entered the jacket of her uniform and pulled the crystal flower. Moving it in front of her to let the sunlight hit it, she tilted her head slightly as her eyes examined it again. Not one to care about flowers, a trait that differentiated her from her grandmother, and one she herself encouraged even if subconsciously, she had no idea what flower it was. The meaning, however, she could glance out of it. A declaration of war towards her title had been her first hypothesis. The rapidly growing instability in all of the kingdom and the increasing animosity towards the council backed it up. But, was it really this simple? Her fingers traced it again, it still being artificially warm.

That skirmish flashed again in her mind. The Witch Cult had moved to protect the hostages themselves, even if being the ones having put them at risk in the first place. All of it just so that Pride could talk to her. ‘You are just you, Adelheid. Just a person. Realise that somewhen, …?’ The last work she had missed, unable to understand it. She shook her head, refusing to believe that… ‘Happy birthday, Adelheid.’ The words, mirroring the flower, were crystal clear in her memory. The tone may have been mocking, incensed…but what Sin-Archbishop just attacks the capital to celebrate the birthday of a monster, of their so-called nemesis?

This must be a plot, a… ‘I know everything about you, Adel. And I know that none of those things were your fault.’ And there it was, the lightening of her shoulders. Every time that line crossed her mind, she felt her guilt lessen just that tiny bit. The image of the Sin-Archbishop reappeared in her mind. His blacks licked by the fires. His oranges utterly free. His black eyes staring into her soul. His emotions obsessively directed at her, not at her position. Not at the monster behind. The awe, the hope, the hatred, the fear, the strange comfort that sometimes flashed through it, as if fighting her was a duty of his. As if they were two sides of a coin.

She slowly breathed in and out, regretting having let him get away from that alleyway alone. For the power he commanded, she had come to learn he also thought himself a monster that deserved to die. And yet she understood not what his objective was. He evidently intended no harm to Lady Emilia. He was not specifically targeting the kingdom away from terror campaigns with no…Her face grimaced, a small frown appearing. It had stopped being bloodless. Her previous hesitation should disappear, no matter if she…

No matter. If she wanted to outdo Pride, the Sword Saintess would need to fight on a battleground he had not prepared. And that meant to go on the offensive and take the initiative. The council had decreed that it was most probable for them to have multiple bases. She would scour the country and hound them out of their hiding holes…Her eyes returned to the flower. She should squash it and return to her work.

A long pause. Her left hand returned it to her pocket. For destruction there was always time for it was a very easy thing to do. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, and the sound of the palace toppling down recovering her sense of duty, she opened them again. Ice cold, the blue of winter lakes. Of unforgiving cold. She turned around and started to walk towards the provisional hospitals that had been built next to the main plaza. Her mind, trying to ignore the tiniest feel that rejected this new reality, this duty.

As she walked down the road, the people hid from her. Fearful, hateful. The rumours of her having defended both Pride and the Witch Cult had spread like a wildfire. And, like a wildfire, they had gone out of control and intensity, going as far as for the exaggeration of she herself having attacked the soldiers of Lugunica becoming a common known reality to the people. The only thing that stopped indignant screams was also herself. The Sword Saintess did not grimace as she neared the building, her Divine Protections transmitting back to her the terror she caused.

Entering the claustrophobic building filled with injured and recovering men at arms felt freeing, a fact that worsened her guilt. Inside, numerous healers went from one place to another, a few having to deal with the families of the wounded. Traversing the now fairly quiet insides, the Sword Saintess easily found her Lady. Kneeling next to a now healed soldier, her worried stare went over the man with such softness and kindness that the usual hate she received had fizzled out to nothingness.

Two guards squared up as they saw the Sword Saintess approaching, having been forced to escort Lady Emilia. No longer feeling forced after having spent these past days with her, they relaxed once they recognised the Hero yet their vigilant stares continued their duty, unwilling to risk the verbal abuse of the first day.

A nod to the patient and the Sword Saintess crouched next to her liege and waited until she seemed to be finished. “Lady Emilia-”

Raising a finger, she shushed the Hero as she continued her examination. “Okay, you are recovered. Any new bad feeling that happens to appear in your body, please, come at your earliest convenience.”

A grateful nod and, after a gaze at the Sword Saintess, they vacated the bed. Sighing, Emilia stretched herself and turned to Adelheid, her head tilted. While tired, she seemed the most brighter and happier she had seen her since Sanctuary.

Relaxing a bit, Adelheid coughed. “My apologies for interrupting you, Lady Emilia. I wanted to speak with you about something.”

“Oh,” Her gaze moved to her left, where more patients were waiting. “Could I ask you to wait for a while, Adel?” 

Adelheid smiled a bit and nodded. “I will be outside, Lady Emilia.”

…

Back against the wall, the Sword Saintess stared at the clouds above. Would she had been strong enough to…

“What did you need, Adel?” The bell-like tone of her lady, light, easy-going. 

Tensing up, the Sword Saintess left the wall and turned towards her. “Lady Emilia, my apologies for my past indiscretion. I had thought that you were finished with your duty.” The white lie was burdenless. She had just wanted to check on her.

At that she frowned a bit. Puffing out her checks, Emilia pointed at her. “Adel, I am telling you again, you do not need to apologise for every minuscule thing.”

Lowering her head a bit, Adelheid’s lips curled up. “I will try to do so, Lady Emilia.” Her gaze examined her lady from top to bottom. Her back was straightened, her eyes had some life back again. “I see that you are better.”

Her smile dimmed. She looked to the side. “I…Puck…Puck wouldn’t want me to just be moping around when there’s people that need help. And I couldn’t really do anything without him so…”

“It was brave of you to ask knight Ferris to allow you to help, even if you are currently unable to use your water magic. I feel nothing but pride at you being able to still try.”

She shrunk a bit more. “I…must be causing problems to the rest of the hea-”

“If you were, Lady Emilia, knight Ferris would be the first one to kick you out. They all take their job seriously. If you were there helping it is because you were truly helping.” The Hero’s tone left no room for debate, causing Emilia to look down.

“I still…” She flinched as the Sword Saintess put a reassuring hand on her right shoulder.

“If you still doubt what you are doing, Lady Emilia, ask them.” Her gaze flickered to the surrounding people, way more used to her and some even friendly. “Try to fix whatever problem you have by facing it directly.”

Her eyes went to her magic crystal, right hand moving to it again. “But that did not work with…”

At that Adelheid retracted her hand. “...Lady Emilia, have you maybe considered…” The Sword Saintess hesitated, “...taking a small break away from the Royal Selection and travelling to Elior Forest? I will gladly accompany you, of course.”

Emilia frowned, her hand tensing up without knowing why. “But, but what would that accomplish? P-”

“You would be able to…put a temporal pause on your contract and meet back with the Great Spirit of Fire, wouldn’t you? They would rematerialise in that forest, right?”

Emilia blinked several times, hand growing white around the magic stone. “I won’t!!” Her mind’s storm, rapidly fizzling out. Suddenly calm, Emilia’s hand unclenched and she turned her gaze back towards the Sword Saintess. “I…I’m sorry for lashing out at you, Adel…”

“I will apologise all the same, Lady Emilia.” She shuffled on her place, her gaze turning towards Sanctuary. “But this impasse helps no one. If I may reiterate my previous statement, you should try to engage this…problem head first. Simply waiting it out seems to not be working.” Her left hand dropped on the hilt of her dragon sword. “And I doubt we will have more calm days in the future.”

A tiny nod. “I…I will think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask you for, Lady Emilia.”

………

“Step outside, initiate Felt Cromwell. Your job there is finished and so I demand of you to leave.” Third backed away from the door they had just opened.

“No need to repeat that again!” Growling, she rushed out of Roswaal’s underground laboratories. Her missing right arm had been already substituted by a metallic construct. Having to take into account that she was still growing, it was segmented into parts that allowed it to be stretched as well as widened with ease. And, while mostly unfeeling except the fingers, it was capable of average motor skills. Not well enough to write at high speeds but sufficient for bladework. And so she found herself clenching and unclenching the metallic hand, still testing this reality that seemed too good to not be an illusion.

Third nodded, their hand pushing them forward as their stare was on the court mage behind, his usual cryptic smile on. Hands dusting each other, Roswaal strolled into his desk again. His motion as he sat on the couch, as calm as if there were no killers in front.

“I take this as our negotiation being concluded on a positive note, Margrave?” Elsa crossed her legs, her gaze on the mage in front.

“I don’t think so.” He replicated her movements, also crossing his legs. “If anything I have grown…fearful due to my associate’s results.” His eyes lost some of their warmth. “Speaking about associates, would you be open to-”

“I don’t think so, Lord Roswaal. For now all of my extracurricular work is on pause.”

His smile grew a bit. “I see. Well, seeing as how Lady Felt’s arm will have a need for further readjustments, do communicate to the Sin-Archbishop that our cooperation will stay until her arm starts to hurt. Once she has to return, I shall test him again.”

Elsa uncrossed her legs, her face growing a bit tense. “And how am I supposed to take that as, Lord Roswaal?”

“I will cooperate in your current objective until I stop. As simple as that.”

Elsa’s right hand fingers started to tap the chair’s armrest. “That’s n-”

“That’s what you will all get, Witch Cult.” Roswaal’s fake tone of always vanished as if it had never been there. 

Felt backed a step, right metallic hand moving to her dagger with clunky movements, needing some practise to get used to it. Her sense of touch a bit subdued, she was still able to feel the dagger well enough to get some of her confidence back. 

Roswaal inched forward, his gaze on Elsa, ignoring both Felt, Meili and Third. “I need the Sin-Archbishop to only think of the half-elf and, by my associate’s words, while he is capable enough to be able to deal with sudden and unexpected encounters, his determination, loyalty and love are all lackluster at best.” Roswaal tapped on the desk, his finger stabbing into the wood below. “I am doubting more and more if he would be willing to disregard and sacrifice everything for his goal and that makes him unreliable. I know I would, so, for now, our cooperation is a way for me to see how far he would be willing to go. Do we have an understanding?” 

Elsa shuffled on the chair. Her eyes did not flicker to her conversation mirror. “I see. We are amenable to that, Lord Roswaal.” She blinked twice. “...and so we will leave after having managed this deal. How long will it take for initiate Felt to need the readju…?”

“Six months.” His reply left no chance for bartering and so Elsa’s smile widened a bit.

“I see. We shall see each other at that date.”

Roswaal added nothing else, his stare following the four of them as they left. The door closed and he backed onto his chair. ‘He seemed quick witted enough, I suppose. His use of Yin magic, while amateurish, was certain and to the point, as if he had complete control over his spells, I suppose.’ Now, now…, that level of praise for a Great Spirit should take years, most surely even decades to develop. So, how could a man below twenty manage that? Short answer, he could not.

The chair creaked again. Long answer, he had had that time and had used it to best Beatrice. And so that left him two conclusions. One, he had been willing to waste decades of time saving the cultists and maid from death. And two, he really did loop time to do that very thing. Now…that would be understandable if those three were worth that effort yet, from what Beatrice had seen, they had been average people, one of them a mere beginner fire magician. And that painted a dangerous picture for…should their lives and Emilia’s be at risk at the same time, who would he choose?

Yes. Those distractions must be dealt with post haste.

……

Letting her socioeconomics book hit the desk, Sylphy stretched her arms in front of her, cracking her fingers and popping her neck as tilted her head from side to side while rolling her shoulders. Breathing in, she looked at the clock. Two hours and thirty three seconds. Surprising for sir Nat-, surprising for Subaru to be this late. Getting off her seat, and ignoring her growling stomach, now too used to five meals a day, she left her room and glanced at her right and saw…Nothing. An empty throne room. That’s…surprising. Whenever Subaru felt conflicted he would always sit on his throne and try to better his persona.

Frowning a tiny bit, she moved away from it and started her search. Thinking back on the journey here…it had been tranquil yet a bit worrying. His new softness, while having taken a backseat, had been still there, so, for him to not even manage to come, something important must have cropped up. The negotiations with Lord Roswaal may have gone wrong. Yet…if they had gone wrong he would have been back there, talking with whatever cultist he chose to address the problem. Now that she thought about it, he always did everything related to the Witch Cult and the kingdom in the throne room. Had…had he really forgotten? Or was he done playing house? She shook that fearful thought away.

Going down a floor, he was not in the recreation ‘room’, if she could call a floor dedicated to messing around and having fun as a room. Really, what madness had consumed him to carve the inside of a mountain to then build a literal garden inside it just to play ball. And let’s not talk about the artificial river. She shook her head again, deciding to continue marching underground. Before fully leaving the ground her gaze moved to the cultists, a few of them trying some of the games instead of simply standing still. Her frown worsened a bit. She had never thought cultists could enjoy their time.

Looking away, she continued down, moving into the living quarters and amenities crafting areas. Now it felt like a real city. Dozens of cultists, all dressed in their garbs, went on and about their day, transporting cargo, food, supplies and moving on without a single pause. The main staircases and ramps towards both higher and lower floors, hubs of perpetual activity. Her gaze flickered backwards to the private staircase that was only used by the single digits, her and Subaru.

Shrugging the tiniest bit as she knew she would not be able to ask anyone for directions, she simply started to walk. Alright, where would the Sin-Archbishop of Pride be on a random Monday?

After thirty minutes of random search, Sylphy sighed, now on the other point of the city-floor and having seen no sight of Subaru. Looking around, her eyes trailed the fairly deserted roads of the city’s borders. New streetlights had been placed all around, shining soft yellows and oranges to simulate the day-night cycle. The stony roads, still the once inside of the mountain, were smooth and suitable for any carriage or cart. What’s more, some earth dragons were visibly moving raw ore towards the upper floors, the stables on the farming level already starting to provide the Witch Cult.

Sighing, Sylphy shook her head and restarted her back, her gaze slothfully turning to the houses and apartment blocks, integrated with the mountain and holding the weight of the floors above. Had anyone told her she would be living underground better than she had on the surface…Blinking, she took notice of two familiar figures engaged in a discussion.

“I won’t recall the cultists from the recreation room, Grandmaster Fifth. We have been ordered strict routines backed by our Gospels and so I will continue to obey the orders of the Sin-Archbishop of Pride.”

“Your loyalty to Pride, while commendable, betrays your inexperience, Seneschal Eight. The Witch Cult moves towards Her reappearance by itself. The Sin-Archbishops, while relayers of The Path, are but mere helpers towards it. To slothfully waste hours of our days away resting is already sinful enough, but to also waste energy in mere recreation activities is beyond insulting and nearing heresy.”

Eight shrunk a bit as if they were coiled as a snake. “Then why has the Gospel not ordered us otherwise?”

“Would you expect it to micromanage us at every point? To tell us when to eat and sleep too?” Fifth’s right hand waved dismissively towards the right as if they were schooling an initiate. “We are pious men walking a most holy path, to stray or show a lack of devotion is insulting and counterproductive.”

“So should we not eat nor sleep either?”

“Those are mere necessities for the weakness of our flesh, Seneschal. Do not twist my words to reinforce a position you yourself know to be wrong.”

“Well, if it is such a wrong position, why come to me instead of the Sin-Archbishop?”

“As it stands right now, His Excellency is currently busy…”

At that Eight scoffed. “Busy cooking?” Eight suddenly tensed as Fifth’s figure seemed to grow in anger.

“We are not to try and peer into His reasoning nor endeavours. He does not lie and He guides us towards an ending. Yet, the moment He…”

“Then why peer into our brethrens’ reasoning and endeavours, Grandmaster? We…”

Sylphy, surprised to see them take so long in noticing her, coughed loudly, causing both cultists to turn to her. Eight flinched as if she had been caught being admonished while Fifth turned to the intruder and advanced half a step forward, as if shielding the initiate at his left. Blinking once under their mask, Fifth bowed deeply. “His Right Hand, what do you require from us?” Eight scoffed and crossed her arms, not done yet with the conversation.

“I wanted to ask for Sir Pride’s whereabouts, as you seem to be knowledgeable about them, Grandmaster Fifth.” ‘Cooking?’

Fifth left their bow. “My apologies, His right Hand but…”

Eight scoffed. “Of course, Lady Sylphy, I will guide you towards him.” Their mask seemed to side-eye Fifth, as if trying to boast over their defiance. The latter simply sighed soundlessly.

“This debate shall be resumed later on, Seneschal.” Turning around, Fifth was the one who guided both towards the kitchen area. On the other side of the city, they traversed again the slightly less busy roads as the cultists had returned to their workplaces or gone to their mandatory rest areas. In the dining area they soon found the emptying kitchens, and one which had been left artificially devoid of personal and clientele. 

Bowing again, Fifth did not turn towards Eight, arms crossed and intense gaze hidden behind their mask. “Anything more, His right Hand?”

“Nothing else. My thanks, Grandmaster Fifth.”

“...It was of no problem to me, His right Hand.” Leaving the bow a tiny bit slower, they walked away to their duties. Most knowledgeable about spear combat, their instruction time had come and so Fifth moved towards the training floor in the fifth floor, right above the throne room.

Eight’s gaze followed the cultists as they left with slow and heavy steps. She frowned at that sound, weirdly nostalgic. Shaking their head, they turned towards Sylphy. “Anything more, Lady Sylphy?”

And so she paused. “...would you mind leaving too? I need to speak with Sir Pride privately.”

“Of course not, Lady Sylphy.” Bowing down, Eight’s tone was infiltrated by a bit of relief. “Will it and my Gospel shall hear your call.”

Sylphy visibly relaxed, her lips curling a tiny bit up. “I am grateful for that, Seneschal Eight.”

Another slight stop only for Eight to nod and retreat too. 

Breathing in, Sylphy turned around and entered the closed kitchen. Made for communal use and to feed the hundreds of cultists, its massive inside room was layered with counters and dozens of cabinets, refrigerators, normally only available for nobility, sinks and dozens of appliances distributed so as to allow multiple cooks at the same time. And in one of those, on the most right kitchen nearing one of the building's corners was Subaru, grunting and whispering as he worked.

Sylphy blinked, her steps not warning him thanks to the noise of his knife peeling the appa, his hisses and grunts as that same knife slipped off it. As she got near him her gaze detected a trash can filled with the dozens of previous tries of him making a meal. Too big portions for only him, he seemed to have really taken the challenge up. Her gaze left the trash can and looked over the chaos of dirty pots, stains and used utensils. And failing miserably at that.

Coughing, Subaru jumped, the appa and knife almost going flying. “Jesus!! Wh-” Turning around, his fright and tension flew away as he shook his head. “Really, Syl? Trying to kill me by heart attack?!”

“Have you considered improving your hearing, si-Subaru?” His smirk widening hers, she took a seat on the stool next to him. “It is surprising that you were so focused on cooking that you missed my steps. You usually never do.” Her gaze rapidly left him and turned to his hands, filled with cuts and peeled off skin together with the juices of the appa.

“Well, I need to really get this meal going or I am going to miss the hour.” He did the same and restarted his, truth be told, horrible peeling habits. Sylphy flinched as the knife lost its foothold and left the appa dangerously close to his hand.

Her expression softened a bit even if her gaze grew more worried. “Subaru, it's three o’clock in the afternoon.”

He froze. “What…” His gaze flickered to the clock he had stopped seeing an hour in. “Oh, for god’s sake!!” Sighing, his shoulders lowered and he bent a bit. “Well…so-”

“No need to apologise, Subaru.” She grabbed another appa and a knife and rotated her stool to face Subaru. With no subtlety she raised the fruit and started to slowly peel it, showing to Subaru how it was done. “Making a meal in company is more fulfilling. I always enjoyed that time with the other wives.”

His movements slowed. “I see…” He shuffled on his seat and forced his movements to speed up again, trying to copy her movements. “Well, thanks for the company, Syl.” He forced a small laugh. “If I had remained alone I don’t think I would have been done by dinner, alright.”

“I would enjoy staying all day cooking with you, Subaru.”

He blinked and, after a startled second, lowered his head and stared at the appa. More focused on his movements, Sylphy made no try to rekindle the conversation and the next minutes were spent peeling tattoes. After five close calls and three new cuts Sylphy jumped off her stool. “Subaru, may I?”

He rolled his eyes. “Really, Syl, I am doing fine!” He was not.

Her gaze moved to the destroyed tattoe he had peeled first. “If your intent is mindless destruction I would say you are doing more than fine at that.”

His next words died in his throat as he tried to dodge the sight of his work. “We-well, I told you I would not…” A sigh and he lowered his hands. Why was he even trying? Sin-Archbishops did not cook. Sin-Archbishops did not have normal days. Sin-Archbishops did not… He tensed up when he finally noticed how Sylphy had flowed right behind him, her hands moving to grab his.

Growing stiff and motionless, the Sin-Archbishop of Pride found himself trapped inside a warm hug. “Subaru, let me show you how it is done before you cut a finger off.”

“I am capable of…” Unable to look at her face, on top of his left shoulder, he returned to his bleeding hands. “Well…I…” He tensed up even more when her hands clenched around his, trying to move him.

“I hate to see you get wounded.” Her whisper, too close for comfort, made him shrink on himself. Fighting against himself, and knowing she was even more stubborn than him, he decided to let her do whatever and so he forced his hands to be somewhat mobile. “Thanks…” And there it went, he froze up again. “Subaru…stop messing around or I will get angry and I won’t forgive you for making me miss lunch.”

His body softened. “You…you waited for me?” He turned to her just to see her tilt her head a bit, her golden hair tickling his left ear.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“I…” He shook his head lightly, unable to maintain eye contact with that earnest, if a bit confused gaze, his hair now tickling her cheek a bit. “Nevermind.”

And so silence fell inside the room as Sylphy’s hands moved his, trying to teach him how to finally do this tiny task. And, speaking honestly, all of it went through one eye and left by the other. Her hands, too warm and soft, occupied most of his touch, nothing to say about her body’s tiny movements, all of them hitting his back. Her head on his shoulder, a permanent distraction that continuously made itself known by both hair and her soft breathing. What’s more, as he was slightly taller than her, she had to tiptoe despite him being seated, making her press against him to be somewhat comfortable.

He repressed a growl. Od be damned, he was a Sin-Archbishop! He was not… “Subaru, you are tense again.” Her new whisper sent a tiny shiver down his back as it hit his ear, causing his growl to come out.

“Yeah, I know, Syl. This is…harder than I had thought, like, ever.” ‘Nice save…Wait, why I am tensing up?! I love Emilia!! I should…Wait…why did I think of love right now? I don’t love Sylphy, we are just frien…! No, not friends, she is a vassal, a…’ Frowning deeper, Subaru slowed down a bit as he tried to slow down the storm of thoughts, causing Sylphy to snort in irritation. “What?! Is it that fun seeing me being unable to do something so basic?”

“I am irritated at you for not paying attention to me, Subaru. We are both here alone-” ‘A-alone?’ “-and I expected you to at least hear my words and feel my hands.” She stopped again and she turned to him, her violet blue eyes fully on him now. “Do you hate this position so much that you are unable to focus? Should I ba-”

“No! No, I just…” His eyes gained an edge and he returned to the tattoe. She was right. He was wasting her help. “Can we restart?”

A tranquil nod. The next few minutes saw evident progression, his hands finally taking note of the motions and starting to need no input from her. And so that left her ample leftover attention. A leftover attention that soon diverted to him. His wide back, the way his muscular arms flexed and stretched, making their muscles evident. His body heat. And yet her gaze moved to his face. Focused, putting all of his attention on this rather innocent task, one so minor it would not echo like his usual actions. Just a normal, everyday task. And so the mask of Pride slid off completely, showing the man below. A simple black-haired, black-eyed man trying his best to make a good lunch for both of them. Her eyes softened even more, a traitorous thought crossing her mind as a tiny smile grew. ‘He is cute when he is focused.’

Task done, six tattoes stood fully peeled. The earth dragon meat was next and simply cutting it in chunks was easy. And so Sylphy shadowed everyone of his moves, maintaining her position behind him even when it stopped being necessary. Cooking oil was poured, the meat and tattoes were fried, a small salad prepared and seasoned and a few plates put on the counter. Four and a bit, their lunch of today was, while amateur, way better than the usual bland, unimaginative meals.

Next, of course, was washing the chaos that remained in the kitchen, thing that would take longer thanks to Subaru’s incapacity to ask for help before she had arrived. Sighing, Sylphy got to it together with Subaru, her thoughts quickly drifting away thanks to the dumb labour. “So, Subaru, have you enjoyed this normal day?”

The sound of flowing water and sponges preceded his reply. “I…How could a Sin-Archbishop have normal days, Syl?”

“By simply wanting to have them, Subaru. There’s no cutoff point for normalcy. Even the worst villains have to change clothes, see to their laundry, stop and breathe. It is just life’s flow. Even under Regulus I had normal days, even if they were far and in-between.”

Subaru rolled his eyes at that. “Of course the kind-hearted maid would know about what Super-Villains are like.”

“I am greatly honoured by that compliment.”

“It was not!”

“So I am not kind-hearted then?” Raising an eyebrow, she turned to him with a tiny smirk.

He scoffed loudly and waved his hand at her, throwing her some droplets of water. “You know what I meant, Syl!”

Forcing a frown even as her smile grew, she returned the strike with double the water. “No, I don’t, Subaru. Please, be honest. I can only be or not be.”

“You!” Submerging his hand in a clean pot, he threw her a handful, causing her to dodge with a small yelp. “I won’t play your game!”

“I see. So you want me to play yours?” Her bright smile caused Subaru to react too slow to her returning to the sink and simply rotating its faucet, aiming it at him. His eyes widened as she powered the magic tool and fueled a stream of water. Crossing his arms in front of him, he yelled unintelligibly as he tried to defend from it. Failing to, and becoming drenched in the process, he backed until he was out of her range.

“Syl!!” His gaze lowered to the floor, now holding a big pound of water. “Look at what you have done! What kind of maid goes around worsening the places she cleans?!” Far away, a pink-haired oni sneezed and turned around on her nap, deep asleep.

“I believe a maid should first and foremost obey her master and you forced me to play this game, Subaru.” Standing taller, her look of superiority at having won this combat dug into Subaru, whose fake anger couldn’t hold up and stop his snicker.

Seeing Sylphy roll her eyes at him despite her full smile caused it to evolve into a small laughter. “...Fuck…this is going to be a pain to clean…” Blinking, he turned to her, her arms still closed. “...you really want to hear an answer?”

A determined nod.

A deep sigh. “Right, of course you want to. Anything to humiliate me further, huh…”

“I believe you manage that all by yourself alone, si-Subaru.” Having thought of calling him sir Natsuki as vengeance, she decided not to when she remembered how important it had been to him. Some things you do not joke about.

At that innocent quip Subaru visibly chilled down. His wet appearance, once playful, now seemed more like one of those who took a walk under the rain at midnight. “...that’s…yeah…”

She blinked. “I…I did not mean to-”

“I know, Syl. I know. You are kind-hearted like that.” He no longer was able to hide his smirk.

Sylphy puffed out, seemingly growing bigger as her panic melted into anger. “Subaru!”

He laughed “What?! Can’t deal with a bit of teasing right back atcha?” Feeling too…free, his subconsciousness made him look at the clock. Six in the afternoon. Remarkably late. He needed to get back to work. Shaking his head to try and dry his hair a bit, he swiped the wet hair off his forehead. “W-”

“Sub-Ah, sor-” 

“Do not apologise, Syl.” His expression mellowed even further. “What did you want to say?”

She shuffled. “I wanted to ask…you said that making Lady Emilia queen was your reason for existing, yes?” He tensed up.

“And what of it?” The enjoyment had left his tone, leaving it cold and defensive. Guarded.

“...I just wanted to tell you that it is alright to simply enjoy some normal days, Subaru. I, myself, enjoyed today so much I would want to repeat it tomorrow, truth be told.”

Subaru’s back hit the counter behind.

Sylphy stopped for a few seconds, thinking about her next words. “...and that you should try to have your own life. To live your own life.” He started to blink, trying to push away the ghost of her dying, last words. “If I really matter or mean anything to you, please, try. I like to see you happy, truly happy.”

“I-Super-Villains don’t deserve it, Syl.” He mentally cursed his slip up, for Sylphy’s frown had reappeared. She had not missed it.

“May I ask yet another thing?”

He tensed up. After a few seconds his back left the counter. “I really need to get going, Syl, duty calls and all that, yes?”

She did not move. “What is your objective?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Syl, you just said it before.”

“That is the Sin-Archbishop of Pride’s objective. What was yours?”

His tone lowered to a growl. “...we are the same person, Syl. Understand it already, will you?” He started to walk.

“Will you retreat again today?” Those cutting words made his anger flare up. Turning around, eyes promising murder, his energy died again as he properly faced Sylphy. Her apathetic gaze and face to him was never so. She was…worried, too worried.

And so he looked away, unable to stop the question from stabbing through him and reaching his heart. What had he done all of this for? Why had he killed so many people, going as far as to destroy the kingdom? For which thing had he lost himself, transforming himself into a tool? For who had he killed himself for so long? “I…” His voice cracked. “I just…I had just wanted to save someone the same way they had done for me…” His voice sped up. “I had no other way, I needed to–I knew not–Maybe, I…” His voice, a sea of emotions he had never been willing to vent. “I–I couldn’t, I wished to–I was just me and…It had hurt so much.” His vision turned blurry, not that he noticed.

His legs also weakened, causing him to slide down only for Sylphy to catch him before he did. He did not notice this either. “And nobody had been there to help me. I screamed, I tried–asked for–Nobody came and…and I just…” His words choked up as tears started to fall. It was laughable, wasn’t it? He had asked for help and, just because nobody had come, he had simply given up. That had been his great fall from grace. The tiniest, most useless reason to turn into villainy, to destroy an entire country. He had asked for help and he had not received it. That had been it. The context mattered not for that would always remain a fact. He had been useless, powerless and utterly incapable of returning Emilia’s kindness and he had blamed the world for it after not even trying that much. The world had seemingly rejected him and so he had been very, very keen on returning the favour. Stupid. 

And he remained the weak, idiotic self he had been, that he has always been, for he found himself clinging to the person that was kindly trying to help this unfeeling monster. He clung to Sylphy as he started to cry, unable to get another word out. He sank with her to the ground, causing her to kneel on the wet and cold ground that had been his fault. He was wasting both his and her time as he cried into her legs, harming her with his clenched hands as he doubled over, trying to find comfort on both her lap pillow and a fetal position.

Fully out of composure, he continued crying even as Sylphy’s right hand fell onto his head. Her soft voice, continuously speaking sweet nothings, tried to calm him down as her patting continued, not minding the water and hard stone she was kneeling in. Neither did she mind his desperate grip, too worried to dig into her to even hurt. Her gaze, filled with pity and compassion, was on him as all the emotions he had repressed for hard, long years came out. As the reality he had always known was made evident to him. As he realised that he had simply fallen into villainy just out of pridefulness, of arrogance. That it had always been his choice, nobody else’s. 

And he had realised too late for it to matter. He had done too much wrong, harmed too many people just to stop now. In the end, the only thing that this realisation could ever bring him was pain, for his road was already locked. To give up now was to spit on every grave he had created, on the comrades, on the friends he had sacrificed. Truly, just self-serving self-condemnation. Wasn’t this what he was doing? Feeling sorry for himself? Oh, look at what the world made me do. Feel sorry for me. Disgusting.

Her left arm hugged him, another source of comfort that he knew he did not deserve. Her words lowered further as she bent a bit and shuffled, trying to better the lap-pillow he also did not deserve. “I see…” The compassion in her voice felt like it was pulling him apart. “For all that is worth, know that, this time, you managed to save two people.” Her tightening hug, a rope tensing around his neck. “You managed it this time around, Subaru. Despite the world having been your enemy, you still tried again. Thank you for trying again. Thank you for saving me.”

His cry loudened, each of his sobs stabbing at her. And this was the Sin-Archbishop of Pride. A traumatised man that had been left all alone by the world. She kept patting him until he, exhausted thanks to his outburst, fell asleep. And so the nightmares she had seen on the healer’s hut started again. His grunts, his moving hands, his scratching. And she moved not, willing…vowing, to try and help. To try and pull away Natsuki Subaru for his destiny as the Sin-Archbishop of Pride.

………

Chapter Text

It felt too…warm…soft…a refuge. Peaceful, tranquil. And, for the first time in a very long while, his sleep refused to scream him awake. Instead it even drew him into its embrace, its claws refusing him from leaving its embrace. And so, feeling safe and secure, he submerged again into sleep, the feedback of Sylphy’s caressing being missed by his lethargic state but not fully. It took another hour until the dreamless, nightmareless nap properly ended. 

Blinking, he first noticed a soft hand carefully playing with the hair on his forehead. Next was the ground that…was dry? Stirring, he felt the blanket on top of him and around Sylphy, woolly and cozy. Trying to shuffle away, he realised Sylphy’s left arm had yet to leave and was around him, locking him in place. “Good evening, Subaru.” Tilting her head, she shuffled with his movements, trying to lessen his distress at being hugged right now and stop him from falling off. “You were turning in your sleep and I fear you would fall down should I leave you alone.” Her right hand moved his hair away and left him, allowing her to gaze at his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“...you were right. I manage to humiliate myself all alone.” He sighed deeply, his body further relaxing. Her ‘I did not mean that’ died in her lips as he turned around and left the lap pillow, kicking both her arm and the blanket away. “Sorry for, well, this. Crying in your dress and all that.”

“Subaru, I…” 

“Syl, I have work to do.” Not looking at her and missing her expression and raised arms that decided to let him run away this time, he quickly left the kitchen. He did not want to think about who had dried both his clothes and the ground nor who had brought the blanket. And he desperately did not want to think about that lap pillow. It made no damn sense…why? She…she knew everything. She knew that he…That he…He shook his head, trying to focus on the sound of his steps on the stairs. The cultists all around, for once, evident in his sight and so he looked down.

All of them he had been willing to kill, to use as tools, to…He sped up, trying to run away from…He did not know but he still did. And so the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut was an alarm clock, the toll of the bell. Falling against it, his gaze moved around its insides. The room of a Super-Villain, filled with…commonplace furniture, a couch, a painting, an undone bed. He breathed in, trying to calm down his head. His hands went to his face, noticing the tears and snot. “God damnit.”

Growling, he moved to the full body mirror in his room. And the Sin-Archbishop of Pride was the one who got reflected. Black hair and eyes, black and orange robes, two sheathed daggers and a maddened glare. The same monster of always. Natsuki Subaru faced himself and so a question was thrown his way. What were his tears worth now? He blinked as illusionary fire appeared behind the mirror quickly followed by the capital. He blinked again when the screams returned, when the smoke and ash and cinders and flames turned into his background. How his crying face turned into a mocking visage of the suffering behind when the torched people started to leave their homes in panic, in pain, in…

Wasn’t it risible that such a mass-murderer would ever be given a lap pillow out of worry? Wasn’t the reality of it having happened so senseless as to be the best joke he had ever been told? Like, look at Subaru. His right hand moved to the mirror. Poor little Subaru, crying his heart out. Poor little Subaru, who had fought just soooo hard to save Sylphy. And that, of course, made the past reality of having killed her invalid, right? He had for sure been forgiven for that, yes? She had said so and so it must be true. And that allowed him to feel sorry for himself for the things he had willingly done, didn’t it? He could self-flagellate and all of it would suddenly be made okay, right?

Subaru forced his eyes closed as the screams increased in intensity. He shrunk in himself as he remembered how Sylphy had thanked him in tears before her neck was…How the three thugs had begged for their lives. How Julius had tried to save Felix even in his dying breath. How dozens of people died under and following his orders. How dozens more of them were killed by those. And the worst thing is that he did not remember the number. He did not remember how many people he had murdered, to how many he had brought death and suffering. The cities, the towns, the random thugs and cultists. He had not cared and so he could not remember. So, how could he dare to even start to feel sorry when he did not remember their faces, their names?

“It…It had all been for Emilia. I did it all for her. She needed…she would have died if I hadn’t…She…It was for her, for her, for her, for…” As Subaru’s mutterings got worse and worse he came to realise something. It no longer worked. The litany, his desire, his reasoning, all had been destroyed by his realisation. He had not done it for her and so that dumb, self-defending excuse was as solid as sand slipping through his fingers. And it had run its course and left his hands with nothing but empty words, empty gestures, empty actions. Empty victories and defeats. Really, what had he accomplished?

His hands clenched his head and he opened his eyes just to see the Sin-Archbishop in front do the same. As if he, as if Natsuki Subaru was allowed to be hurt and cry by his own actions. By the realisation that his actions had harmed others. His veins flared up as pure fury passed by them. Roaring in anger he punched the mirror, the sound of shattering glass and the sudden pang of pain unable to quench the lit fire in his heart. Panting, blood running down his hand and dropping onto the ground, Subaru stared at the shards, most of them reflecting him. And thousands of him were scowling at him. Really, how could he be this condescending? He even had dared to lash out against the mirror, knowing he had enough funds to replace it. Just another way to feel better with himself. So, tell me, Natsuki Subaru, does the pain you feel now lessen the guilt?

Losing all of his energy he dropped backwards and sat on his bed. Vela and Ara, worried, left his cloak and started to flutter in front of him. Unblinking, Subaru hugged both and shrunk into himself, the warmth of Ara feeling too far away. The shadows of Vela, a reflection of his soul. What was he doing, really? Just playing house? What was he doing, really? What did he have left? He blinked. And again. And again. And he still did not know. The ceiling above was also without answers even if he tried to bore it. What could he do? He closed his eyes again, stopping the tears that were threatening to come out. He would do as always and this time he would not return. This time the void in his heart would serve a purpose. This time he would win. This time she would not cry for Natsuki Subaru.

……

Subaru stood in front of his throne, Sylphy at his right. Ignoring the gulf that had appeared between them as he had evaded her like the plague, Subaru’s gaze did not flicker to her, focusing instead on the army in front. And what an army it was.

The World Builders were now a real engineering corp. Two dozen earth mages with almost two hundred new recruits in total after returning from their work in the tunnel that connected with the Black Fortress of Ophiuchus, almost fully finished. The frozen elves in that forest were certainly an unknown Subaru had no idea of how to properly deal with it but he had already directed Sixth, the temporal regent, to investigate. His eyes moved to Eight, kneeling in front of the legion, and he gave them a small nod. To forget about infrastructure or fortifications was a deathly mistake an Eight had managed to carve a suitable building team with almost nothing.

Next were the Word Bearers led by Ninth, or would be if they weren’t in the field. For now, the reports were…better than what he had expected. Priscilla’s rebellion had definitely helped them as, once some nobles joined her, they could better their narrative of nobility only looking for themselves. Add to that the enormous chaos in the capital due to their army having been willing to kill the hostages and the main house of the Royal Authority was a powerkrieg begging to explode. What he had been surprised by was the lack of any proper answer.

The next legion, while here now, would not be for very long. The Night Stalkers, led by Third who had just returned, had maintained themselves around two hundred as Subaru had decided to first better their equipment and infiltration skills. And they could not have arrived at a better time, for Cramlin should be getting a lot more attention from the Crown and that meant he had to divert their focus towards other cities. Fifty would go to Picoutatte and cause both chaos and take dominion of its underworld while a hundred and fifty would go to Priestella to ready the battleground against Lust. The kingdom had decided to forsake those two cities and he would take advantage of it, if only to scream at the kingdom that it had abandoned those cities.

The Sharp Legion was next. Now two hundred and fifty, as they were lightly armoured if at all, their utility would be enormous against the armies of Lust and she herself, as they relied on quality and low numbers. He would simply need to bait them into killing zones. While leaderless…Subaru’s gaze flickered to Sylphy, standing as apathetic as ever. He shook his head and moved it towards the Dragonguard. Forty heavy cavalry, or, well, dragon cavalry, led by Seventh. With the plate armour they had pilfered from the kingdom together with the kingdom’s best weaponry, their charge would cut through any wall.

And so only two legions remained. The Iron Believers, led by Fifth, numbering now a hundred fully armoured and armed. A moving wall of steel and muscle that, while very slow, would be able to fight most strong enemies headfirst. It was but a counter towards the best knights of the Kingdom. And, while it would never be able to defeat powerhouses like Marcos, it would be able to deal with most knights, not to say anything about militia and men at arms.

Lastly, Pride’s Wolves, led by Forth. Five hundred and sixty moderately and lightly armoured and armed cultists, no better than the average soldier. It had been the legion that saw the bigger increase in numbers even if due to a lower skill and power level. Further divided in their own centuries, they had varied armament that granted it a lot more manoeuvrability and flexibility in battle tactics. 

Subaru breathed in. A thousand, five hundred and fifty souls under his command, and his command alone. Of course this counted not the cultists that had been decided to be too weak and had instead become part of the ‘civilian’ branch of their operations. Medics, cooks, miners and craftsmen. All in all, around two thousand cultists were housed in Orion and around three hundred in Ophiuchus.

Advancing a step, his bandaged right hand moved his cloak dramatically as he stared down at the seven kneeling leaders in front. All at once all cultists kneeled too, their hundreds of stares stabbing into Subaru. Not showing it, he advanced another, putting himself on the edge of the dais. He breathed in. He had agonised over this decision but it was what he had chosen and so they would move towards it. 

“Believers in love!” His voice cut through the throne room, a tiny portion of the cultists tensing up. “The new year crawls ever forward and yet we ourselves stand unmoving. Yes, the second Black Fortress has been raised. Yes, we have bested the Kingdom thrice. But they are not idle either!” He started to pace back and forth, his spirits following too. Felt blinked, still not kneeling. “Every day that goes on their hold on Cramlin gets more and more clear! Every hour, by every minute, their new soldiers train and prepare themselves to destroy our Cause, our life’s purpose!” Sylphy flinched the tiniest bit.

Subaru stopped drastically, his cloak hitting him. “The Five Great Cities stand. All are bulwarks of their presence.” He forced an evil smirk. “All except one.” And so Subaru turned around and faced the cultists, their gazes having never left him. “Priestella is ours, for it holds something that belongs to us. To the Witch Cult. And something the Sin-Archbishop of Lust is too useless, too heretical to collect, to recover! The remains of Typhon, the Witch of Pride, are contained inside! The Council of Ten knows about the Temple’s location and so we could come to know about it!!” Breathing in and letting the tension spike up, he forced his smirk to grow. “And so we will! We will prepare our best and biggest offensive against it before the end of this year!!” ‘A year after I returned to my first ever checkpoint.’ “And we will finally crush open this rotten kingdom’s last defense!”

There was no roar, no cheering. Just silent intensity.

“These months we will prepare the way forward. We will bait their watchful gaze to corners we care not for. We will upset their cities and brew chaos inside them. We will pit the nobles one against the other. We will weaken and corrupt their army. We will kill their hero! And only then will we hammer the last nail into their coffin! We are the Witch Cult, believers in love! No Divine Dragon, no Great Spirits and no Court Mages will block our way forward!!”

And, a tenth of a second before the gospels updated, a tiny minority of the cultists rose from their positions. The roar and cheers finally came and Subaru found himself growing deaf as the underground room echoed the noises inside. Yes, the introductory quest line was over, the hard part came here. 

The Six Tongues would not be easily bested in their own territory and so Cramlin’s underworld would have to be fully abandoned. He could not risk an outright confrontation hinting at the Black Fortress of Orion being near this city. He would force them to get expended in Picoutatte or have to fully forsake it. The kingdom’s army…he would need to best in a straight battle and that meant to separate it from both Hero and Marcus. He could strategise and win against the numerically superior army, not against overwhelming power.

He blinked as the cheering slowly died down. He waited until it fully did before resuming. “You are all dismissed. Today, you rest. Tomorrow, we will build a new age, a new reality. A new kingdom.”

And so the Witch Cult moved away. Or most did, as Third remained together with Elsa, Meili and Felt. Subaru tilted his head slightly as they advanced towards him. 

“And so we are bringing the fight to Mother, Sin-Archbishop.” Elsa, first to speak, twirled a dagger in her hands, smile widening. “I was starting to believe we wouldn’t ever get to it.”

“I wonder, brother, are we reeeeally sure about this? Mother has…” Meili glanced backwards, frowning a tiny bit. “…a better army.”

Subaru rolled his eyes and backed into his throne to sit on it. “Really, I can’t have my two favourite contract killers doubting me like that. My heart is too fragile for this, alright.” His eyes moved to Elsa’s blade and gained a better edge. “But I will beat her. I have done so before already.”

Elsa arched an eyebrow while her dagger slowed down. “I see that you are confident…I will not say anything more then, Sin-Archbishop.”

“That look suits you, Brother.”

“Anything more?”

Seeing both of them shake their heads, Felt advanced a step. “Wait a second, aren’t you…”

“I was listening to the discussion with Roswaal, Felt.” Shuffling on his throne, Subaru crossed his legs as his glare got worse. “And I agreed. But next time I will accompany you. I also have something to say to the court mage. In person.” 

Felt stiffened, her gaze moving to the right hand that had finally moved from her position only to eye the Sin-Archbishop in half fear and half worry. Her metallic hand clenched and unclenching, its tiny noise bringing it into his attention.

Subaru tilted his head a bit. “How does that metal arm feel? Is it metal solid?” He chuckled to himself at those alien words.

“It’s fine…Pride.”

“Oh, no more creep?” He tilted his head further, his gaze now on her face.

Scoffing, she turned around. “Whatever, creep. You won’t catch me being nice again.”

“I understand, gutter rat.” He laughed loudly at her growling. “Now, now, be a dear and follow Third. Your training awaits, gutter rat.”

An ignited gaze that promised murder yet, after a small duel of glares, she followed his commands. Still, her attention was on them as she slowly left.

Sylphy, shuffling and within talking distance of the man for the first time in two weeks, opened her mouth only for Subaru to leave the throne with too much haste. Frowning, she dived forward and grasped the sleeve of his right arm. “Please, sir Natsuki! Just…” Not willing to let him shake her hand off, she moved closer and grabbed his arm with both of her hands. “...please…”

Blinking and seeing her cracking voice, Subaru turned to her. She was…worried, desolate even. How, wh- ‘I left her alone in a cultist hideout, that’s why. She has no one to talk to.’ His eyes dodged her yet guilt stopped his movements. “Yeah? I have a bit of time today, Syl. What did you need?”

She blinked once, swallowing the regret that her next words brought. “I…want to go on an outing in Cramlin. Please. I have not seen the sun in weeks, sir Natsuki.” She tried to not shrink as she felt him tense up in realisation. They needed to properly talk, and if that meant she had to manipulate him into it, so be it.

“I…I see. When?”

Felt finally left her hiding spot behind a column.

……

Subaru flattened whatever creases his tracking suit had and scratched his head, hair now white. Lacking any real clothing, it was this or going in his Sin-Archbishop style. His eyes moved to where the mirror had been and found only the shards still to be cleared out. Laughing humorlessly, he sighed and grabbed the biggest piece, trying to check himself out. He managed to last two seconds staring at himself and he did not even see how he was looking. Whatever, it would suffice. Throwing it back into the ground, Subaru ignored how it shattered against the stone below. After the hour that had taken them to get ready, he had pieced together Sylphy’s plot. And so he would need to get ready for the hours of discussion they would have. Leaving the remains of the mirror, he stopped at the door. He…really did not need to…Subaru shook his head, right hand scratching left arm. He owed her this at least. He had been at fault.

Leaving his room, he found Sylphy standing right in front of his door. “What? You thought I would try to scurry off and miss our date?” He forced a teasing smile as he tried to stop his gaze from examining the woman in front. Hair styled into a waterfall braid, she had dried it black to not be recognised in the off-chance they were seen. Her arms were crossed in front of her black T-shirt long dress, hidden beneath a winter cloak as the weather had cooled down.

“It would not be the first time you evade me, s-Subaru.” Her expression softened and she tilted her head, her black hair complimenting her eyes. Subaru stiffened a bit and looked down to himself. …yes, he was dressed just aw… “Those clothes look unusual. Are they comfortable?”

Blinking, he looked back to her only to see first a gloved hand extended to him. “Ah…ye-yes…” Sidestepping the hand, he looked to the end of the throne room.

“Subaru. You owe me.”

“Huh? Wh-”

“My legs still hurt and I had to fully wash my dress.” She aggressively extended her arm towards him again. “You owe me, Subaru.”

“I…sorry.” Lowering his head a bit, he, after a few, long seconds of internal fight, softly grabbed her hand. He hated that he regretted it less as her apathetic expression brightened a bit, her hidden worry lessening. “So, what is the plan, Syl?” His words were shaky no matter how much he forced them to be stable.

“I have our afternoon fully mapped out.” Pulling out a small diary from her cloak, filled with annotations and patches, she started to flip some pages. “Suffice to say, I will be leading us.”

“...how long did you prepare for this, Syl? That looks like a lot of work, alright.” That she should not have spent on him.

She raised an eyebrow without moving her gaze out of the diary. “Why wouldn’t I? I want this outing to be perfect. For you to have fun.”

Subaru’s next words died in his mouth. 

Not liking the silence, Sylphy turned towards him. “Would you have done the contrary?”

Tensing even further, Subaru looked towards the exit. “We-We really should get going. The night comes too quickly lately.”

“I do agree with that even if spring will start soon.” Closing the book, she reinforced her hold on him. Remembering something, she frowned a tiny bit. “And what does da-te mean?”

“Nothing, nothing!!” He wanted to kick himself. Today was going to be a very long day.

…

Felt left the gates of the Black Fortress, never letting the two leaders of the witch cult out of her sight. And thanks to that tunnel vision, she instead hit head first Eight’s midsection, who had been told by the gospel to stand in that very same place. Paling, Felt slowly looked up just as Eight turned to her. Fifth, at Eight’s left, was not entertained. Both of their arms were crossed.

“Initiate Felt Cromwell. You are supposed to be training with Grandmaster Third.” Fifth’s voice, powerful and inflexible, struck at her.

“I…” Her gaze flickered to the other two, rapidly walking away. “I was told by Gra-Grandmaster Third to trail the Sin-Archbishop of Pride as training.” She bent her legs a bit, ready to run away.

“The Gospel has not revealed such information to us, initiate Cromwell. You shall return. Seneschal Eight…” Their gaze flickered to Eight only to see her staring in confusion at Subaru and Sylphy as the former laughed at something the latter said. “Seneschal Eight!”

Almost jumping, they turned to the Grandmaster. “I believe that initiate Cromwell may be well in their right. Grandmaster Fifth. And should they be lying, punishment would be more proper than…”

“Than what, Seneschal? Discipline is a must to have and we can’t simply allow this kind of insubordination.” Fifth stood taller, glare now on Eight. “Should initiate Cromwell be in the right then she would be able to move as she was willed to, for a rendezvous with Grandmaster Third would take at most ten minutes, time that would not significatively endanger her mission nor work.”

“But why would initiate Felt lie as such? Shouldn’t Grandmaster Third have already ordered her when they met up on the training floor? It makes no sense for initiate Felt to have ignored all instructions and simply slip off to do her own will.”

“And this is precisely the problem, Seneschal. You are going off mere hypotheses and no proven facts so your arguments simply fall into the coat of ‘hoping for the best’. It is senseless to-”

“You are doing the same thing, Grandmaster!”

“But it is better to err towards the side of caution than towards the side of hope, Seneschal. It is…” His words were interrupted as the Gospels in their pockets were updated. Both turned down to look at it. ‘Initiate Felt Cromwell, present yourself in the training room.’ “You were saying, Seneschal Eight?” Fifth’s victorious tone irritated Eight to no end.

“...well, my apologies initiate Cromwell but…” Eight blinked as she turned to look at her left, where once Felt had been standing on. Both cultists blinked before snapping. back to Subaru and Sylphy, far away in the distance now. Trailing them, a golden head was able to be seen. 

Both cultists slowly turned to each other.

Fifth paused for a long while. “...I don’t think it would be proper to trail initiate Cromwell, for we would carry the risk of disturbing the outing of His Excellency and His Right hand.” His admission of defeat, never before seen.

Eight eyed Felt with double the worry and a triple of apprehension. “I doubt it is wise to just let her be, Grandmaster. I fear she is not…determined enough and problems could arise.”

Fifth’s gaze slowly turned more and more intense as he looked at her. “Seneschal Eight, are you telling me that you let an initiate whose loyalty is not yet proven go unsupervised?” They seemed to grow bigger. “And that, not content with just that, she is also currently armed?”

Eight shrunk on herself. After a few seconds, she weakly nodded.

“...” Fifth sighed deeply. Diminishing again, he removed his mask, revealing a jaded old man behind. “You have three minutes to ready yourself for infiltration, Seneschal. We are to retrieve initiate Cromwell post haste.”

A rapid burst of nods and Eight scurried off back into the Fortress. Fifth blinked, a wave of nostalgia assaulting him. He scratched his head before returning his gaze towards Subaru and Sylphy, the latter pushing Subaru right now due to a joke of his.

Another pang.

……

“What? Can’t I laugh at you stepping on a puddle now, Syl?!”

“Subaru, it was not that funny!” Crossing her arms, she turned her head again. Her next step, causing a wet splat, worsened the red in her face. “Not a singular word more.”

“I didn’t say anything!” His tone betrayed that he was on the verge of another laugh, this one less forced. 

Despite herself she felt her own smile grow. This was fine. There was no need for any deep discussion today. She just wanted to show that she could be simply here. To go back to being able to talk. “You were thinking it, Subaru.”

“I did not know maids were mindreaders now.”

“Subaru…”

“What? Can’t I just have my sole personality trait, Sylphy? Are you gonna kill the person too?”

A fake deep sigh. “You are impossible sometimes, Subaru.” Her gaze moved to the quickly approaching city. Almost twice as bit than when she had arrived, the smoke of industry tainted the new parts of it, spewing smoke and ashes towards the sky as metal was bent into weapons and armours. Her expression tensed a bit. They would out the old part of the city then.

Still grabbing his hand, Sylphy sped up towards the city, her determined gaze on a cafe she had investigated before. “Syl, could you chill?! Wait…Syl, I am not joking, you are going too fast!”

And so they both missed a carriage that was leaving Cramlin with a particular blue earth dragon and merchant dressed in greens who did see them and stop, utterly startled. Otto’s gaze trailed the both of them while his carriage slowed. “Was that…No…no, it could have been…right, Frufoo? Subaru does not have white hair, right?”

The earth dragon did not answer, his gaze on a human child that had sneaked right next to the carriage. “Why are they going so fast…I don’t…”

“What do you mean there’s a…There’s a kid next to my carriage!!” Almost jumping off his seat, Otto clenched the reins in as he turned to Felt. “Wh-What, why are you here?!” The noise made Subaru turn towards the carriage only to see a growling earth dragon and an empty front seat. He barely had time to frown before Sylphy pulled him away.

Otto, having been kidnapped by Felt, was immobilised against his carriage’s wall just out of Subaru’s sight. “Man, you can’t just scream like that, you will blow my cover!”

Otto’s complaints died when he noticed her metallic arm. Frowning, he softened a bit as he raised his arms in surrender. Blinking, Felt retracted her hands. After two seconds of watching Otto not move away she climbed the carriage and stalked the pair that had entered into a caffe. Sighing, Felt let herself relax on the carriage’s seat as she rolled her shoulder, unused to the extra weight she now carried.

Done with that, she turned her gaze towards the merchant, still staring at her arm. The pity…“What’s it with you, huh?” 

Otto shrunk a tiny bit at the rage in her voice. “Nothing, miss, I just…” His eyes followed her stare. “...wanted to say that he is not that bad despite, well…everything. Not that I am saying that Sin-Archbishops are good but…”

“...es not make sense.” 

“...apologies but I…”

“I said that it does not make sense!!” Growling back, Felt’s hands gripped the railing of the carriage, the metallic one cracking the wood without intending to. “Why would a Sin-Archbishop do…” Her jaw clenched, silencing her next words. Why would an evil Sin-Archbishop give her arm back, a home, food? Why did the greatest evil of the kingdom treat her better than any of the good men of that said kingdom? Why should he and the cultists be the one to give her some kindness?

Otto’s gaze softened, noticing the clothes that did not fit her, the black robes that were too big for her. ‘He also rescued you?’. His gaze moved to his cargo. Seasonings, spice, quality goods that he could banter with filled his carriage. With this cargo alone he would be able to buy and build up that store. And the bag Pride had given him was still half full. Clenching it, he shook his head. His gaze, however, moved to the child. She felt out of place, untethered. Maybe too ready to cross a line she really did not want to. “Frufoo, could you return to the tavern? I think we can stay an extra day.”

Rolling his eyes, the earth dragon huffed expressing his disapproval yet turned around with the carriage. Felt, startled, turned to Otto who also got on the carriage. “Huh? Why ar-”

“You can’t really stalk sir Natsuki with those robes, right? I think I have some clothing I could lend you…” His eyes widened and he coughed. “For a price, of course.” As he grabbed the reins again, he could only hope that his carriage would not get stolen as he escorted this child.

Felt’s mouth opened, not really believing the man in front.

…

Subaru blinked at the plate in front of him. “This world has ice cream?”

Sylphy tilted her head as her spoon dived into her own on her plate. “This what has…” She shook her head as she took a bite of her vanilla ice cream. “Could I ask you to make a dictionary for those weird phrases of yours, sir Natsuki?”

Subaru snickered a bit even if his smile dimmed, his spoon taking a piece of his chocolate one. “If I feel very nice one of these days I could, Syl. But don’t count on it.”

She shook her head, her apathetic face revealing a small smile just for Subaru. “I will buy an empty diary and a few bottles of ink then, sir Natsuki.”

His smile disappeared. “I see, you really want to know my secrets, huh. Well, it will cost you a pretty dime.”

Sylphy visibly shrunk on herself. Stealing a few glances of the people all around, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. “Keep at that, s-Subaru, and I will stop talking to you.”

“Oh, is that a threat or a promise, Syl?” Smirking, Subaru took another bite of his and grimaced a bit. Too dark chocolate.

Sylphy’s shoulders lowered in defeat but she could not really complain. Despite how…shameful it felt to her, her calling him by his name really mattered to him. He could be weirdly easy to please sometimes. “I find myself unable to answer that question as it is beyond the decorum that a maid should always try to stand by.”

“A threat, huh.” He grimaced again. Juck. He should not have said to Sylphy ‘Whatever you want to ask for.’. Now…how could he… “This thingy is delicious, Syl. Do you want to try it?”

She raised an eyebrow in curiosity at the spoon full of slowly melting chocolate ice cream.

…

“Do you see them?” Snarled Felt in the lowest tone she could muster from amidst the bushes right outside the cafe.

Otto, hands on a spyglass, was too lost in the sight in front to hear the incoming footsteps. “The white-haired man and the black-haired woman, yes! The fifth t-”

“Why does a heathen know my name, initiate Cromwell?” The low and rumbling whisper of Fifth froze both Felt and Otto. The nearby citizens, having thrown them weird looks for a good while as they were horribly hidden, rolled their eyes and returned to their duties, believing the old man to be calling them out.

“Oh, gra-grandmaster Fifth. I mean…” Felt’s gaze returned to the table and she lost all words.

“Initiate Cromwell, I demand a…” His eyes traced her diverting attention and his words died.

“Grandmaster Fifth?” Eight, at his left, suffered the same fate.

…

Sylphy shrugged and inched forward, opening her mouth. And at that moment Subaru realised the slight problem with his plan. Still, to back away now would be an insult to his pride and so, after gulping once to gather courage, moved the spoon forward and fed Sylphy. He grew redder when Sylphy closed her eyes to then close her lips around the spoon, her tongue cleaning it.

Opening them again, she shamelessly turned to him. “For once you were telling the truth, Subaru.”

“I…I see!” Forcing a small laugh, he did not notice how his gaze got locked into those lips. Once fully red, as if she had put lipsticks, there was now a small taint of black. “You have…” He blinked as he saw his hand moved closer to her face.

Tilting her head further, her eyes lit up as if she understood the problem and inched closer a bit, staring into Subaru. He brought forth all of his strength and bravery to not retreat at this point, feeling like he was being observed and examined by several people. His hand slowly moved towards her and caressed her lower lip, wiping off the chocolate.

“I see. Thank you, Subaru. It was most improper of me.” Having liked the taste a bit too much, she turned to the finger and licked the taint away. Subaru almost jumped off the chair, causing her to tilt her head further in confusion at him.

“No, no worries, like, at all, alright!"

…

“You are too damn big, Grandmaster!!” Almost being kicked away from the bushes, Felt tried to maintain her position despite Fifth having joined in their hiding spot.

“Shhh!! / Shhh!!” Both Otto and Eight hissed at her, trying to silence her. Both, with their hands on the spyglasses that Otto had brought.

“...hey, you are forgetting this was my idea!!”

“Shhh!! / Shhh!! / Shhh!!”

Rebutted by the three of them, Felt wanted to scoff yet thought better, not willing to risk it again. The people around the plaza, now glaring disapprovingly at the quartet.

…

Subaru tried to melt into his chair as he stared wide-eyed at the spoon filled with vanilla ice cream. “It is only fair I return the favour, Subaru. Maybe you will prefer this one.”

“But-But I love chocolate ice cream, Syl. For realsies!”

“Subaru…you have frowned four times with the last spoonful of it. I worry it will upset your stomach.” Her weapon got closer and Subaru’s gaze dodged it. A very bad move for, as Sylphy was bent over the table, his eyes…He forced them to look at her face. An even worse move, for they saw the earnestness, the worry and the care in her. And, worst of all, the joy.

Forcing his hands to uncleach, he lifted the mental white flag. “Fine, I will take a bite.” Closing his eyes, and feeling his reputation die for all of forevermore, he dived forward and partook of her ice cream. His eyes opened in a flash. This taste…He…he really had gone years without tasting vanilla ice cream. Long time repressed memories struck at his mind. Of times he was just Subaru Natsuki, having fun as a small kid. Of summers filled with fun times. Of moments with his father, mother. His parents…It…it had been a long time, hadn’t it been?

He blinked as he felt a finger trace his lips. He recovered his wits just quick enough to see Sylphy lick clean her own finger. Noticing his intense gaze, her tiniest smile grew into an almost visible smirk. “My apologies, Subaru, I like both a bit too much to share.”

The man looked down at his plate, trying to get his face, heat and beating heart under control while Sylphy underlined a few lines in her diary under the table. “Speaking about sharing, did you read that new book I bought and had shared across the Black Fortress!?” His too loud, and half an octave higher, voice brought only pitiful stares from the other clients of the caffe. A few of them sent their prayers to the boy that was being led by the nose thanks to their partner’s skill.

“Oh, How to kill a Hero?” Sylphy reclined on her chair, her simple black dress playing on both her hair and almost violet eyes. The strong light of the establishment, making her almost shine as her expressions, to him, were an open book. Growing excitement and happiness at remembering the book. The want to talk with him about something that she had enjoyed. The hope to know if he had done so. And so Subaru forgot the nostalgia as he gazed into a maybe too bright a face.

…

“They are not dating?!?! What do you mean, Eight?!” Felt gestured with both arms towards the two people lost in their conversation. Their smirks, half jokes and quips, mighty visible despite being outside the building. “You must be fucking with me, that…”

“It is as it is, initiate Felt.” Her tiny smile died due to embarrassment when Subaru threw a napkin at a laughing Sylphy.

Fifth did not interject, his gaze lost in the sight in front that felt like a mirage. His eyes, searching for something in the sight that felt too familiar to not belong to him. “Divine Dragon…” He shrunk further in himself, for once feeling the weight of the armour he always carried.

Otto, now feeling ten different degrees of guilt at being currently spying on Subaru’s love life, moved back and forth next to Felt, searching for the next excuse to try and convince her to back away.

…

Sylphy glanced at the windows. “...it is getting late, huh.” Her tone carried an undertone of noticeable regret.

Subaru’s pat on her left shoulder made her turn to him. “It was a good day, Syl.” His smile dimmed to sadness. “A normal day even.”

Her mood dropping too, she still decided to not bring back that topic. He needed to feel like he could have these small luxuries. If she pushed he would simply dig his heels in and turn the other direction. Leaving the chair, she tried to give him her best smile. And what a smile it was, for it moved her face and her lips curled up. “I am glad you enjoyed today, Subaru.”

He looked away from her, his face grimacing and being shrouded in darkness. “I will pay.”

“...Bu-”

“Leave first, alright?”

Sylphy nodded despite him having already turned around. Sighing, she followed through and left the cafe. Hugging her cloak, her gaze moved upwards to try and peer into the darkness above. A thousand stars that shone their light upon them all, a moon that was everwatching. She breathed in, not knowing a single constellation above. It…could be a good idea for another day out. 

She sneezed, the cold getting to her. Rubbing her hands against each other, the cry of a small kid made her frown. Trying to locate it, she moved with decision towards an alleyway. And it was not a hard task for the child, too small and scared to know better, had simply stayed where they had gotten lost. Kneeling next to them, Sylphy tried to calm him down with a few gestures, thinking about what to say. She had no experience dealing with children and so, at a loss for words, she tried to pat them. That touch from a stranger scared them further and they backed a few steps. Panicking, Sylphy turned to the cafe as if asking for help only to see a Subaru that had rushed here.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” His voice, soft but confident, broke through their crying. Undressing their cloak, they put it around them. Forcing a reassuring smirk, Subaru pulled an almost forgotten coin from his pocket. “Look, what I have here is a grooved-edge ten-yen coin. See?” Subaru showed the alien item to the child that, now warmer and protected from the wind, had the mental capacity to be confused by him. “Now I will clutch it tightly inside my hand…just like this.” He forced a few grunts as he muttered ‘tight, tight, tight…’, stealing both Sylphy’s and the child's curiosities. “And now…” He opened his hand, the streetlight lamp behind him revealing the emptiness on it. 

“How…” Sylphy’s tone was followed by the child inching closer, trying to see the coin that was no longer on Subaru’s hand.

His gentle smile gained a bit of teasing. “Do you want to know where I hid the coin?” At their two nods his hand moved to Sylphy’s left ear and, with a twirl, materialised the coin from inside her ear. “There it was! There was where the coin was hiding.” His hand moved with parental care towards the child, showing the coin. Seeing their expression brighten Subaru grew mellower. After a second and a half of hesitation, he extended his hand. “You can have it, sir, but you would need to do us a favour, alright?”

Gaze flickering between coin and him, the child nodded once after a while.

“You got lost, right? Do you know where you live?”

A nod and a shake of their head.

“Alright, no problem. Myself and this lovely lady will help you find them, yes?” Sylphy blinked when the child, after another small pause, grabbed his extended hand.

Subaru, repressing chills and a cough caused by the coldness of the night, turned to look around them. “Now…where would a parent go to search for their child?”

Sylphy, now at their left, had trouble following them on the thinner roads. The child, fearing her getting lost, extended her hand towards her as if trying to help. Another tiny smile broke through and she grabbed that hand. Small and hidden inside a glove, it felt… “So this is how having a family feels like? It’s…warm…”

Subaru could not contain that coughing fit. “Now, now, towards the main plaza! We are on a quest!” Bubbly and confident voice, the child visibly cheered up.

…

Otto and Felt had fallen silent. Eight, gaze lost on the child. Fifth’s, on the two ‘parents’.

…

“Mommy!!” The child let go of their hands and rushed to their worried mother and father.

“I am glad we managed to find them.” Sylphy’s expression melted at their happy embrace. A hug out of a reunion. She shuffled on her place and timidly waved as the child screamed their thanks at them. 

“...right…” Subaru blinked at the family waving at him, expressing their thanks to him. Fire invaded his vision and he saw families waving at him. Families screaming in pain. Children…The smell of burnt flesh invaded his nose and he paled. His right hand started to aggressively scratch at his arm and he turned around, startling Sylphy who tried to stop him before he bolted away, trying to escape that terrific sight by getting lost in the alleyways of Cramlin.

…

Both Felt and Otto were stopped by Fifth’s unbending grip. “We are done here.”

“What do you mean we- / Sir Fifth, I don’t t-”

“We are done here.” His tone left no shadow of doubt that they were, indeed, done here. “We will not disturb them here.”

Eight did not notice the conversation, her gaze lost in the happy family going away.

…

Retching, Subaru puked in a ditch, the ice cream, cafe and some semi-digested pastries leaving along with the bile. Doubling over and throat burning, he started to cough as he crouched down, hands on the wall. Despite the stinging, despite the smell of vomit, despite his migraine and pain, the smell of burning flesh was not leaving. And he knew why it was not leaving. How could he dare to play the Hero? He?!?! How could Natsuki Subaru be anything more than a damned villain! He was no he-

He puked again, emptying his stomach of the happy memories they had made today. Really, playing house. Enjoying an afternoon after killing a dozen men in the capital again. Monstrous, just…Someone started to pat on his back and he jumped, turning in fear towards the newcomer. Sylphy…it was Sylphy, she…He remembered her wheezing as she stopped being able to breathe. The smell of her blood as…

His stomach lurched and he lost control, puking over her dress. A last coughing fit that Sylphy, uncaring for the mess he had done, tried to help by massaging his back. And he could not deal with that kindness. It was poison. It was killing him, threatening to destroy all that he was, his courage. He could not stop now, he…he could not.

“Are you alright?” The worry, the compassion, the pity…

“I…I can’t do it, Syl…” His pained and cracking voice stabbed into her heart. “I can’t be what you want me to be. I…I can’t be good. I can only be me.”

“Subaru, today you were good, today y-”

“You still do not understand anything!!” Leaving her embrace, he backed a few unsteady steps as his hands waved. “You do not know anything! I am still killing people! I am still treating them all as tools! It happens every…” Before he could say the word ‘loop’ the penalty kicked in. Time froze up, his heart was grabbed and he awoke to him kneeling on the ground.

“I may not understand anything but I do know one thing. You are better than this…whatever thing you believe yourself to be, Subaru.” Not willing to give up, Sylphy had moved to be in front of him again and had grasped his arms, trying to stop his nails from tearing more of his skin off.

“I am just me, Sylphy!! I-”

“Even if that were true that would be no excuse to simply go on as you had.” Sylphy’s sharp words cut him off. “You have proven that you can try to. That you are capable of not doing the same crimes of before. While you are right that I can’t hate you for what happened…last time or whatever you are referring to, this time I have seen you only try to not do your past wron-”

“If you knew the real me you would also kick me away!” He tried to pull his arms away, movement weakened and strength waning. “If you knew what I am going to do, to have to do-!”

“Subaru, I once said that I would want to see you happy, yes?” Her grip strengthened. “But what I would not want to see is you walking over the line you know you should not cross just to validate your self-hatred or whatever sacrifices you believe you have to honour. You do not have to do anything.” Her eyes gained an edge due to his evident confusion. “I am not blind to it, Subaru. I hated my life and myself a long time ago and, because of that, I know what you are doing right now. You don’t think you deserve to go on.”

“W-”

“I do know, Subaru!!” Her scream silenced all nearby sounds. “I failed to protect other women from Regulus and my mistakes even killed a few that tried to protect me!! You can’t just believe yourself to be the only one who has committed sins! The only one who should be punished!” Her grasp started to hurt. “And I too wanted to give up. I wanted to die or, at least, turn into an unfeeling monster more times that I could count!! To hate the world for abandoning me, for leaving me to die! Losing my empathy, my morals, seemed at times like a paradise!! To stop trying, to stop suffering, to stop carrying these faults of mine that will never die!”

Subaru’s movements died.

“But that would not fix anything! I can’t fix any of that by dying, by simply stopping caring. Nor would any of that make the weight, the emptiness any lesser.” She blinked, a tear falling onto the floor below. “The past is done. My past is fixed in stone.” Another tear fell down. “But you are talking about a present that has yet to happen. About a future. And I hate how you have given up on it because you hate yourself too much to see that you can indeed move on.”

His head lowered. “...I don’t think I deserve to try anymore, Sylphy. I…I did such horrible things, I…”

“So you will do them again just to sate your ego?!” She pulled him closer, trying to get him to look off the floor. “Because that is the only thing you are doing!! To repeat your past wrongdoings just because you do not deserve to be better is as bad as doing them because you enjoyed them!! You hate yourself?! Then hate yourself alone!! Do not give the world a reason to hate you too!!

“But I hate the world!! The world betrayed me, the world left me to die!! It left you too!! They-”

“Subaru.” Her voice, wounded and cracking, calmed him down if only out of a desire to hear her. “I…don’t want to hate you. You…you showed me a world that could care.” Her head found his shoulder. He did not dodge her. “You cared. I…do not want to see that go away. I do not want you to kill my world. You…brought light into it and…became it. So…please, don’t kill what I love of you.”

He froze up. Unable to raise his hands and mind too consumed by self-hatred, his words failed him too.

“You are always joking but you use that to hide yourself from the others. And, thanks to that, you are the first to notice when something isn’t wrong with someone. You act with rudeness and aggressiveness towards others to stop them from becoming your friends because you fear it would harm them yet you are unable to stop yourself from trying to make these connections, for you live for others. You always act as if you cared not for anyone but you made a recreation floor for the cultists, you decorated their rooms. You pose yourself as slothful but you work the hardest to try and lessen other’s workloads. You always noticed when I was cold and were ready to give me your cloak despite you also being cold. You took attention to the food I like, to the books I wanted to read, you…you are you, Subaru. Both good and bad things. Please…do not give up on yourself.”

“But I have a duty…”

“Reject it, forget it!

“I…don’t know if I can do it…”

“Fail trying, please!”

“I…feel so alone…”

“Then I will become your world if that’s what it takes to bring light into your heart!” Sylphy pulled away from his shoulder, tears running down her face. Desperate, devastated. On the verge of a panic attack. And he still could not raise his arms. “Please! Just let me in!”

‘You…you shouldn’t be this sad…Please…’ He blinked as her tears continued flowing down. And something changed within himself. A sick feeling brewed into his chest, worse than the nausea of before. A small shadow hand grew from his chest and flowed forward. Reaching its objective, it caressed her right cheek, trying to wipe the tears away. “I…don’t deserve it, Syl…” He closed his eyes, trying to keep her face away from his mind as his mind started to shroud in darkness. “I…how could I?”

“It is not about deserving, Subaru! I want to give it out so, please, do you want it or not?!”

“I…do…” Utterly spent, Subaru passed out.

…………

Chapter Text

The smooth movements of a carriage carried by an earth dragon slowly woke Subaru up. Blinking, he shuffled on the wood bench inside the carriage that had been emptied of some of its cargo. His head’s position, slightly raised and on softness unlike wood’s, made him sigh. Forcing his eyes open, he was face to face with Sylphy once again, her hand tracing his hair in a new tradition. “So…, how much do I owe you in cleaning services by this point?” Words sour, he still made no movement to stop her motions nor move away this time, knowing her left arm around him was too strong to best.

Sylphy tilted her head, the movement showing off her new casual clothes. And maybe they were too casual for the outfit had been chosen by Felt herself. Black pants, black top, winter leather boots, a brown jacket with a red scarf and a leather belt. The sight above, too new and unusual, forced Subaru’s gaze to try to dodge her. “I don’t think,” Only to see both Felt and Eight on the other bench. “,there's a need for a repayment of favours, Subaru. I am glad you are better.”

Brain trembling and headache worsening, he blinked as he tried to force his mind with the task of comprehending the sight in front. “Heya, creep. / Your Excellency.”

“...I am not living this up, am I?” He blinked again when Sylphy’s hand did another round, trying to brush his hair and remove its knots. The loving caress, remembering him of old times when he had cared for how his hair looked.

“Oh, I am writing this in my diary, creep. Idiot pukes on a girl during their date, you should have seen my face!” Her laugh interrupted Eight who shuffled on the bench.

They tried again nonetheless. “I am more than willing to forget today even happened at all, Sin-Archbishop.”

“Is Natsuki-san…sir Pride…” Another voice he recognised came from the front of the carriage. Oh, no. “...wait, what do I call him?”

“The One Who Lights the Way.” And Fifth was also here. Just…fabulous.

“Uhm…Grandmaster Fifth…I don’t think that’s a…”

“No…not living this up.”

“Indeed, for, should I need to have something to say about it, Subaru, you will not.” Her caressing got stronger and Subaru shrunk on himself, regretting his choice of not leaving before his face started to get a tiny bit red. He scowled as he noticed Felt’s snickering yet Sylphy carried on, uncaring for both actions. “You said that you wanted to try to change and I will be there all along the time. I will not forsake you and I will become your world.”

Felt’s snickering died and Eight looked to the side, her face hidden behind her mask. “...I repeat, Sylphy, there’s something called thoughts…”

“But I wanted you to hear my resolution?

“That is the problem, Syl! Just realise the position you put me in!”

“The…the lap pillow?” Her head tilt cascaded her, for now, black hair, showing off her usual cute motion. Subaru tensed up a bit. “But you seemed to like it?”

His hands rushed to hide his face from the other two. Felt scratched her head while her legs waved back and forth, the floor of the carriage now very interesting. Eight had shrunk on herself and seemed like she was praying for the ground to swallow her. The sudden silence allowed them to hear Fifth and Otto’s conversation.

“...and I am telling you that calling sir Natsuki by a title is going to be too long for casual conversation!”

“So you are saying conversation with His Excellency can be casual?”

“No, no, no!! Of course not, Grandmaster! I mean to say that, for routinal use, to waste his time with long titles would be to put the cart before the earth dragon, yes?”

“Then simply be more swift. Proper respect must always be given at any point of your temporal stay here. Every organisation has ranks that need to be respected lest discipline suffers.”

“Grandmaster Fifth, I fully agree with what you are saying but, thanks to my outsider position as an outsider, I…”

Subaru sighed deeper. “He is staying, isn’t he? Why is the random merchant also staying in my super-villain’s base?”

“He is currently an information breach, Sin-Archbi-”

“It was a rhetorical question, Eight.” He frowned, remembering they were also here. “Speaking about information breaches, why are you two here? The merchant is understandable due to the subsidies directed at Cramlin thanks to its new growth, but…you two?”

Felt shuffled and opened her mouth yet Eight was faster. “Initiate Felt felt the need to stalk you two and we followed behind to prevent any possible damages.”

His eyes grew colder. “So you are saying that you let a literal kid get the better of you two?” His lowered tone could have been scary had he not been currently lying on Sylphy’s lap.

“She has been proven to have a Divine Protection of wind that allows her agility to become like a blizzard, Sin-Archbishop. She was too fast, maybe too fast for anyone apart from lady Elsa.” Eight bowed their heads.

“I don’t think the problem falls in being fast enough to catch her but in allowing her to get out unsupervised, Eight.” His gaze moved to Felt, who shrunk a bit more. “...but I am surprised that you did not manage to run away.”

The conversation in front of the carriage stopped while Felt tensed up. “Huh?! Why would I run away from here?! I came here by myself!!”

“Then why would you leave the Black Fortress?” Subaru shuffled again, his migraine draining his strength and Sylphy’s grip not lightening yet. “If you wanted to betray me, to do such when you are being escorted is not a really good move there, alright.”

Felt scoffed and worsened her seating position. “Ain’t telling you.”

Sylphy tensed up and let him raise himself up to sit properly. Eight straightened their back and Felt stopped moving. “...you are under my orders, Felt. If I order you to talk, you talk. If I order you to jump, you do not even ask how high before you do it, gotcha?” Subaru’s right hand fingers started to tap on the bench next to him. “Now, answer.”

The atmosphere now chilly, Felt’s metal hand grasped her dagger while Eight’s gaze flickered between the two of them. After a few seconds of internal war, Felt let go of her dagger. “...I simply wanted to know what you were planning to do.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t get you, man!” She moved her metallic hand as if to show it. “I know of you what the kingdom told me, what you showed there and what I know and not one of these three things match! I just…”

“You just what?”

“I wanted you to be a real Sin-Archbishop!!” The carriage slowed down thanks to that roar. A blink and she was in front of Subaru, hands clenching around his collar and getting him off the bench. “I wanted to use you for my vengeance! I wanted you to burn the kingdom!!” She shook him again. Eight got off her seat while Sylphy relaxed a tiny bit, noticing she meant no real harm. “I needed you!! I can’t do it alone!!” Her voice cracked as a tear started to fall down. “How can I avenge the old man if a single child will be able to stop your rampage!!”

Eight, just behind Felt and arms ready to snatch her. froze at those words, 

“Give me a break!! The Sin-Archbishop I happen to join is a fucking moron that will not kill people!! Why is this my luck?!” Her metallic hand dug into his clothes, breaking his collar due to a miscalculation. Another shake. “Why?! Why did you save me instead of old man Rom?!?!” And at those words the dam she had kept contained broke. The second tear flowed down and was quickly followed by a third, a forth. Her lips curled up as she clenched her jaw, trying to not cry. Her efforts ended up being null and she broke into sobs, diving into the closest person. Diving into Subaru’s shoulder. ‘So she lost her father…’ The second wave of nostalgia hit him. How would he have taken his father’s death before turning into this? 

And so, without needing prompting from Sylphy, Subaru hugged the wailing Felt, placing a hand on the back of her head like Sylphy had done for him. Trying to whisper calm words, and Sylphy joining in, both failed to notice the trembling Eight as she backed into her seat. Her hands, unable to be still, grabbed each other. Felt’s wails tore through her head and she sat with maybe a bit too much force onto the seat.

“Is-Are you alright, Seneschal?”

That voice made her jump. Her panicked gaze moved to Fifth, worried gaze on her. “Ah-ah, yes, yes, Grandmaster. I…”

Frowning, Fifth left the front of the carriage and inspected the inside. Initiate Cromwell was dealt with thanks to both His Excellency and His Right Hand. And so he moved towards Eight and, replicating Sylphy, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Steady, Seneschal.”

A nod and that bad consolation job managed to almost fully calm Eight. Fifth’s hands was a bit late on moving away. For Felt it took a few extra minutes.

Sniffing, she pushed herself away, taking extra care for her right hand to not harm Subaru. “...not a singl-”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Felt.” Subaru’s calm but emotional words reverberated within her. “And I am sorry for not having saved them.”

He…He seemed to…“I…” Felt looked away. “Thanks…” Sniffing again, she wiped her face with the sleeves of her rope, causing Fifth to frown disapprovingly. “Can…can we ignore that this just happened?”

“You do me, I do you. No problem, pipsqueak.”

“Th-Hey!!” Felt punched his right shoulder with a bit of force. “What’s up with that name!?”

Sylphy’s worry melted into equal parts exasperation and entertainment as she sat down again. Her gaze noticed an Otto that, glad with this result, returned his eyes to the road and restarted their march.

……

The Sword Saintess knelt in front of the Council. At her right, a standing Emilia that looked somewhat composed if still unsure of how to deal with this situation. Behind her, both Rem and Garfiel stood, having been called to help with the chaos in the capital that had still not fully wound down. And what a chaos it had been, causing both of them to be unable to return for almost a month. Only Adelheid’s presence stopped the situation from devolving into open combat as reports from the great cities started to tickle in. And so did the ignored requests for more garrisons, soldiers, even singular knights that had all been rejected worsen the popular discontent.

Of course, the Royal Candidates had taken advantage of the kingdom’s policy to try and rearm. Anastasia, making her base in Priestella, had been very keen in supplying the city with her own mercenary companies and had turned into the de facto ruler, with overwhelming support at that. Priestella’s tantrum had become an insurrection. Her claim to the throne, somewhat legitimate at least to the nobility that refused to consider lowborns, had granted her wide support despite her arrogant behaviour. And that meant that the bordering territories to her domain had also gone dark.

The only Royal Candidate whose loyalty they were fully sure of was Lady Karsten and so she stood here, escorted by both Felix and Wilhelm. Her connections, influence and own territory were mainly the reason the kingdom had not devolved into total autonomy. At least for now, for she had been expending those connections, influence and own coin to support the kingdom, a thing that was not sustainable if these saw no victories.

Miklotov coughed and shuffled on his chair, dark bags under his eyes. Exhausted, he could not repress a sigh as his gaze traced the throne room. Dozens of bureaucrats still ran around, for work was never done; knights and small nobility continued their own warfare against each other even under these strenuous circumstances; merchants and wealthy landowners, more and more demanding; their control over their own capital, still struggling to be recovered.

But not everything was bad news. Most of the knight stratum, the ones that had not left, were tight and loyal to the crown; order was recovering and the armouries were full and stocked with quality weapons and armours; the men at arms, around four thousand, were somewhat trained but equipped to their best of their ability, and that put them at around ten thousand souls if counting the levies and militia. All in all, they would be able to punch the Witch Cult away. Should they find it.

“As you all know, the Witch Cult has been readying their offensive yet we have prepared. Elder Bordeaux will relay the findings of the kingdom.” Miklotov bowed at the warrior.

Leaving his chair, Bordeaux advanced to the end of the dais. “I will be quick. We have detected two hives of activity of the Witch Cult. Both Priestella and Picoutatte have been infiltrated at large, and while a problem we need to deal with, these sightings hint at them being a misdirection.” Catching the growing confusion on Emilia, he stood taller. “Until now, their operations have been secret. There have been only hints. There’s no possibility of them going this lax and so that leaves the reality of this being a plot to drain our resources.” ‘And I am not risking the Six Tongues operatives in a war of attrition with the Cult.’ “And so we have arrived at a few localizations that could have their secret bases.” Snapping their fingers, a knight advanced and pulled out a map for all to see.

“There are few places that are safest to build a base but there are quite a few where we lack vision from our eyes. Elior Forest,” Emilia stiffened visibly. “, the Augria Sand Dunes, the Contamination Zone, the Redonas Plateau and the Barielle’s domain.” He breathed in. “And they can’t be in any one of these. The first three lack any long term sustainability and so their pillaging would have been made evident by now. On the other hand, a mountain base is…plausible, while the Barielle’s domain is plain impossible for, should they be there, lady Priscilla would have already made it clear.”

Emilia let out a relieved sigh while the Sword Saintess tensed up. “But, Honourable Elder, would they be able to be that near to Cramlin?”

“...that’s…a suitable gamble. We seldom patrol the mountain ranges and the border with Gusteko is remarkably calm, at least in comparison with Vollachia. We have been neglecting our northern defenses.” ‘More like all of our defenses…’ Crusch did not grimace at that thought. “It is certainly not a bad choice for a base.”

“...but wouldn’t we have at least heard or seen any sight of their presence?” Emilia timidly interjected after glancing at Adelheid. “Isn’t the kingdom currently heedful of the surroundings next to Cramlin?”

“Indeed, Lady Emilia…Yet our attention has been new. However…would the city have prospered as it did had the Witch Cult been syphoning its riches and supplies towards itself?”

“The Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks...”

Three gazes turned to the Sword Saintess thanks to her soft whisper. Bordeaux, after a cough, tapped his sides. “What do you mean by that, Sword Saintess?”

“My apologies for interrupting, Elder Bordeaux, but that’s the answer. The Exemplary Meili’s Mavericks were a force of the Witch Cult. Instead of worsening the condition of the city, they were behind the sudden increase in their revenue.”

Crusch’s expression hardened.

“What moronic diatribe are you spewing, Sword Saintess?! The Witch Cult destroys! It does not better! Y-” That random bureaucrat, having lost people to the Cult, was silenced by Bordeaux raised hand.

“While their tactics of late have been…confusing to say the least, it is an enormous leap to think that the Witch Cult would act out of the goodness of their black hearts and souls and form a travelling group that goes around solving the problems of our kingdom, Sword Saintess…” His words lost confidence at the end. While he truly believed what he was saying, it could still be possible. But not out of kindness, out of shrewdness. Had they been able to look that far ahead and plan for this very happenstance? To put an almost too visible bait for them to notice, pat themselves in the back and miss the true intent behind? Bordeaux turned to one of the Elders behind. “Tell me, is it possible?”

“Is…is it possible…what?”

“Cramlin’s economic growth. Take the city as a closed system. Could they have made it work with what they had?”

“Well, Cramlin had no mining operations and it is too far a…” They blinked, calculations running behind their eyes as they soon found the answer. “By themselves? No…Not even taking into account the coin drain of the capital…the growth happened before any disturbance…There was no novelty in the ore distribution nor market…They…Their economy is not possible. Not even Lady Priscilla would have made it work.”

Crusch’s frown worsened, her left hand tracing the shoulder the cult had broken during their capture. To go out of their way to not kill, stop the fires of the capital for killing people, killing the Sin-Archbishops, even saving their hostages…To this? To humanitarian work, soup kitchens and house building? What did the Sin-Archbishop of Pride intend to do? Emilia’s gaze moved to Adelheid and stopped there. “So…are they trying to be…”

Rem coughed extremely loudly to cut out Emilia’s words. “My most honest apologies, Council of Elders.” Faking herself reeling from its aftermath, she curtsied even as she was ignored.

“Then we have to secure Cramling to the best of our ability and scour its surroundings now!! We…”

The roar of a certain enormous monster echoed all over the capital. Wilhelm paled and turned towards the gates, hand of his sword, as the city screamed in panic and blood. Already explosions and fires were lighting the night.

“We are under attack!!”

……

“Check.”

“Urgh!! Why did I agree to play against you!!” Pulling at her hair, Felt sat in front of Subaru’s throne, Sylphy having carried the table and chair and currently sitting on her own throne, right at his right. Otto, at Felt’s left and Subaru’s past opponent, was snickering already.

“Because you saw me almost lose to Otto and thought, ‘Oh, I can definitely beat someone who almost lost to that fake merchant.’” His voice, perfectly copying Felt, grated the both of them.

Otto’s snickering died as if it had never happened. Puffing out, his hat returned to being a ball on his fist. “Why am I catching a stray now?!”

Subaru shrugged. “I just felt like it, alright.”

“What do you mean alright?!”

“And now you are screaming at your boss…” A fake deep sight as he watched Felt move another piece. His expression froze when he was now the one in check. “Now…now, that’s cheating!”

“Aha!” Felt slammed her left arm, solid metal, onto the table, causing both to cringe as the pieces moved away.

Sylphy’s lips curled up a tiny bit and she rested her head on her hand. Seeing the three of them panic due to the pieces having toppled down was…refreshing, even if a sight a bit old by now as the weeks tickled down. She knew that he was only doing this play out of feeling guilty. She had come to understand him enough to see the small strain on his smile, the shifty feet, the scratching every once in a while. Yet, maybe, he could come to enjoy it despite feeling somewhat responsible for Felt’s fate, a, honestly, stupid and arrogant reaction. But he was the Sin-Archbishop of Pride and so she would let that go for a few days. And those days were ending tomorrow.

However, what was really surprising…Her gaze moved to the merchant, helping the two of them with the pieces. Was the merchant himself. He seemed to also have grown protective over lady Felt, a thing she was also guilty of, for someone able to not was, in her mind, devoid of compassion. And that had arrived him at a…strange position at the very least. Civilian consultant of the Witch Cult…or something like that. Subaru had not really explained very well what that meant or did but the merchant had taken upon himself to find enough work to start complaining daily about how much he worked. Thankfully, their usual work was most similar to a city and so the merchant’s initial fears had vanished after a few hours of going over the paper work, only to be replaced by a new fear over the vast quantities of work to be done.

Her smile grew a bit more when she saw Felt trying to argue that that knight was indeed where it had to be instead of the position it had once had. Otto was arguing that it should go in another, also wrong position, while Subaru was starting to raise his voice. Their fiery words, however, attracted the attention of a nearby Elsa that also joined in with a fourth position, herself knowing it to be wrong yet simply arguing for arguings sake. Her smile chilled up a bit at that. She was…no good company at the very least and a non-redeemable killer at worst. Sylphy owed her no trust nor wanted to ever have her back turned to the rumoured vampire. And Meili, currently in Cramlin enjoying her time with some of the children there, was no better if not out of personal fault.

She just…copied her sister. And she was the wrong person to copy so…Sylphy blinked as one of the cultists, Third, or that must be them as she had never seen them out of their robes, knelt in front of Subaru. “Sin-Archbishop.” Their empty tone tensed both Otto and Felt but Subaru simply turned towards them.

“Yeah? Work or pleasure, Third?”

“The capital and Priestella have been attacked.” The tranquil and a bit festive atmosphere sunk into bafflement and apathy. Both Felt and Otto turned to a now cold and somewhat angry Subaru.

“She has moved already? Why…Report all.” Chess game forgotten, Subaru crossed his legs and properly faced Third.

They bowed even deeper. “While the attack on Priestella remains ongoing, the heretical forces of the Sin-Archbishop of Lust together with the White Whale have been defeated. Numbering around eight hundred cultists if this number is not yet accounted for, they managed to cause several damage to the city.” Their speech slowed down. “Some of my operatives have been forgotten by the mist.”

A slow nod. “I see…”

Third, paling a tiny bit under the mask, bowed the most they could. “The casualties go beyond the tens of thousands-” Felt paled a tiny bit. Otto backed a step. Sylphy covered her face. “-and Lady Karsten has fallen in battle.”

Leaving his chair, Subaru gave a curt nod and he started to retreat to his room, startling both of them. Sylphy managed to grip his sleeve. “Subaru…it was not your fault…”

Another nod yet he pulled his hand again and sped up towards his bedroom, ignoring the odd and even worried looks behind. As he entered his room he had no mirror to see the crooked smile on his face. Finally he had something to do.  With a bit of trepidation and a tad extra haste Subaru unsheathed his obsidian dagger, his back hitting the now closed door. With a bit too much intention he was quick to cut his neck. 

Falling to his knees and choking on his blood, his smile got worse. First checkmate from Lust. A shame he could cheat. His faith in his authority, unbending. And this time it failed not.

…

After a tiresome week his back hit the now closed door. He finally understood what was going on. Smart girl. The attack on the capital was a decoy for Adelheid. Tie her up with something she had to deal with and have her own fun with Priestella. She was also behind the Great Whale but the last important gluttony was nowhere near. Just a call in? They were willing to sacrifice a Great Witchbeast for the remains of the witch. Bad…bad call. Should he be able to ignore the capital he would be able to deal with this in just a loop…

The face of Sylphy crossed his mind and he closed his eyes…Nevertheless, how does Cappy dare to try and act in the name of his Witch Cult. His hand unsheathed the dagger again. It was his, his tool, his people, his kingdom. And he was not sharing it with damned Lust. So be it, they would start carrying their own symbol openly. All of their robes would get the flaming hand painted on them. But less about clothing.

…

His back hit the closed door behind. His wide smile, dark and evil. This was it. Last loop. His right hand scratched his left arm, its nails noticing the new wounds. Gulping down, he cut his throat again. And Subaru’s corpse toppled down. And an unsaid question followed him as he Returned by Death. Could he make amends by dying? If he took and replicated the pain he had inflicted on the others, would he be freed of the guilt?

……

For the second time this year the western gates of the capital were blown up. Under a rain of small pieces of stone and shrouded in a cloud of smoke and dust, the Witch Cult rushed into the city as several more locations inside it also blew up. The citizens and dwellers started to rapidly panic and a cacophony of screams joined as a chorus to the detonations. Windows were broken, doors opened and carts and carriages abandoned as the civilians tried to outrun the black tide of cultists.

A shaky militia, the first real wall of resistance towards the approaching darkness and one of hundreds all around the capital, tried to make a stand in the middle of the main road, the captain grimacing as a portion of the Witch Cult dispersed towards the alleyways. Those they could not stop and they could only pray for the damage they would do to be little. The blood left their face as the smoke cleared and they saw the four hundred cultists rushing in. 

Surrounded by fifty men on the verge of breaking lines and scattering away in cowardice, they could only gulp. They were the first and last line of defense against the slums. “Steady, men!!” They forced their voice to be strong. Should they show fear, it would carry on and doom them all. ‘Not that we a…’

A horn resounded behind the cultists yet their single-minded march did not stop. And so they were unable to react in time when another wave of cultists, these ones riding black and grey earth dragons, charged through the door. Faster and armed with heavy lances, the forty cavalry men shredded through the unready mob and only just now reacting cultists, killing dozens in just the first seconds of their sally. 

The ground trembled as the apathetic and unfeeling mirror forces faced each other. Yet it was no contest at all. The cavalry cut through with no problem, the quality spears having not a single issue against the lightly armoured targets. And the moment they got stuck in their corpses, they simply switched to their secondary weapons. Their armour was capable of ignoring the well aimed strikes. The earth dragons, trained for combat, were a second weapon, their fangs and claws as lethal as any blade. And so, in less than two minutes, the forty riders had annihilated the enormous force in front of them, themselves almost having reached the line of militia men before stopping.

And a tense moment of peace was artificially created on the main road drenched in cultists’ blood and guts. And it was a moment of utter bewilderment, for the witch cult had attacked its-... “Wait…I recognise that symbol.” One of the militia, a demi-human, pointed with their hairy hand towards the flaming hand. “That’s the Sin-Archbishop of Pride’s coat of arms!!”

The captain's gaze flickered between the…relaxing demi-human with the treacherous declaration and the force in front. The terrifying earth dragons stood with perfect composure. Their riders, clad in black robes that hid the heavy armour below, some of them recovering their weapons. And, in the midst of it, the sounds of more fighting in the alleyways denoted the start of another fight. Seventh did not turn towards it. Instead, their gaze moved to the captain in front.

Gulping, their eyes moved back to their line. If before had been suicide…Before he could utter anything the soldier of before raised their hands, “Better Pride than the Witch Cult!”, and knelt in front of the forces, surrendering. Words failed the captain and so they let a few dangerous seconds pass, allowing that demi-human to be quickly joined by a second one. Five, ten…And in no time at all the captain found himself standing alone.

Seventh cared not. A head gesture, their tail moving lightly, and the riders trotted forward, ignoring the men that had surrendered to them. As they passed by without harming them a wave of murmurs erupted in the line behind. A civil war in the Witch Cult. A side that wanted to kill them, one that did not. The choice was clear.

The sounds of fighting dying shook the captain off their surprise. “l…The battle is not yet done, boys! Get on your feet and follow those earth dragon riders!!”

“You heard the captain, guys! Fuck the kingdom!!” A good portion of the militia, almost all of them demi-humans, cheered.

The captain paled a bit but let it go, no need to snitch on their fellow lowborns. A threat at a time. The roar of the Great Whale circling the city above, blocking out the moonlight, put this saying into perspective. Survive today, worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

As they rushed towards the inside of the slums, following the trail of measured destruction the Dragonguard was creating as they purged the city of the filth of the heretical followers of Lust, their gazes looked all around, seeing militia fighting side by side with Pride’s Wolves, making quick work of the uncoordinated subordinates of Capella.

And so the captain roared and led their men into the fray. To protect their homes and families. The braver civilians, already providing medical support to the wounded as, for now, there had been no dead.

…

The garrison on the eastern gate quickly found itself in hot waters once the gate exploded. Shrouded in smoke and under a rain of rocks, the five hundred soldiers that had been diverted to this gate found themselves alone, disconnected and knowing there would be no reinforcements as the rest of the army and knights were trying to protect the inside of the city. 

Coughing, the commander tried to see through the smoke. “Steady men, ready yourselves for the-” Only for his words to be cut off by the whistle of artillery shells flying through the air. “-Take cover!!!”

The garrison broke lines and backed in chaos to watch as the artillery missed their position and instead hit the cultists that had tried to enter through the door with uncanny precision, this group having housed its mage forces, eviscerating most of them and leaving the rest reeling. 

“Crossbowmen, open fire! We have artillery support! Spearmen, ahead!!” Not one to look at a gift earth dragon in the mouth, the commander barked their orders again, quickly rallying the men into the fight again.

The whistling of before stole their attention and they watched as the pieces flew above him, having changed aim. Something told them that they would strike true and well.

…

Defending the southern gates, the one that led directly to the slums, stood the Iron Believers. Explosives deactivated, they had still decided to open the enormous metal doors to funnel the witch cult through. Cruel yet cunning, most of Capella’s forces had been aimed at the slums, where they could engage in urban warfare inside tight alleys and roads together with dealing the most  damage to the citizens.

And so Fifth and his hundred comrades in arms walled the only entrance. Their halberds cut in half the cultists brave or mad enough to try and bypass or fight them. The militia behind, providing long range support with whatever bows and crossbows they had. Their alliance, uneasy but quickly growing to be somewhat solid, even if mostly due to the terror of seeing almost a hundred heavy armoured soldiers dominate a force nine times its size. 

Nevertheless, and despite being neck deep in combat, Fifth’s gaze moved backwards, to where Eight and company must be holding too.

…

Eight flinched as the blade of the cultist closed in into her neck, her singular glance towards the south having killed her. As she closed her eyes, the stab of a rapier corrected her. Quick to recover, they saw Sylphy callously pulling out their blade from the head of their enemy. “Can you stand, miss Eight?” Neither her tone nor face nor body, clad in armour, denoted any emotions at her actions. And why would she waver at killing a witch cultist? Had she not decided to forsake her morals, ideals and old loyalty for Subaru? Needless to say, this second blood was fairly effortless for her. Her gaze, however, replicated Eight’s and searched for Pride, flying away towards his dangerous plan.

Turning around, Eight readied her light weapon while her eyes scanned the surroundings. In the northern section, the kingdom’s forces were more of a danger than their own cult, despite the latter having almost killed Eight. 

…

Adelheid was the first one to leave the throne room, closely followed by Crusch and Wilhelm. Her inhumanly fast pace carried her to the outside of the palace where the sound of fighting all around the capital struck her ears for the third time. Next was the roar of the Great Whale, having been getting ready to spew its mist and bathe the city with it. Adelheid paled, the dragon sword not coming out. Should she be unable to…

Wilhelm was soon at her right, his deathly glade on the Great Whale that had returned. An unprepared hunt, lacking long range attacks yet he will hunt it this time. 

Crusch unsheathed behind the two of them. “We need to bait it away before it attacks the city! The damage it c…” She blinked, noticing a black and orange cape billowing on one of the taller buildings. Her gaze was quickly stalked and the three warriors found themselves staring at a small figure.

A small figure that, in the unlikely case that they had not seen him, pulled out a magic tool and activated it. “Test, test!! Hello, Lugunica, I’m back! And you…!” He raised his right hand and pointed at the Great Whale. “...how about you pick someone bigger than you for a change, huh?!”

The Great Whale roared at those incendiary words. Readied attack and greater plan rapidly being forgotten due to the enormous miasma flowing from the black-haired man, the Great Witchbeast flexed its tail and changed directions, rushing towards the boy as it unleashed the vanishing mist around itself to speed itself up.

“Oh, and Capella, please remember this!” Subaru kicked the ground as Vela shone its darkness and Ara got ready to spew its flames. Arms extended, he smiled widely as he flew through the sky thanks to the reduced gravity and Ara’s flames. “This kingdom is mine to terrorise, not yours!!”

Crusch blinked as the Great Whale and Sin-Archbishop flew away and out of the city. “They…are not cooperating. A fight in leadership?”

“I-” The Sword Saintess’ words were interrupted by Wilhelm rushing forward. Divine Protections stopping her from paling, she followed behind the grandfather whose eyes were promising murder to both. Their unreal speed carried them in a blink to the walls of the city, where they saw a flying if ever retreating Sin-Archbishop continually dodging the whale by worsening his own gravity by Vita or lessening it to almost nullity before rocketing himself ever away with Ara’s flames. The fangs of the creature, growing ever closer.

Wilhelm, with his two targets in front, unsheathed and jumped towards them, forcing the Sword Saintess to do the same.

“Oh, you two are joining in?! Isn’t this enter-” Another roar cut his words off. The clank of the whale’s teeth missing his head by an inch, migraine inducing. “-entertaining?!”

Wilhelm, landing just below the two of them, jumped upwards and slashed at the Great Whale. Blade carving its sides and damaging some of the organs it used to expel the mist, he quickly found a foothold and kicked it to propel himself towards the Sin-Archbishop. And his lips curled up for Subaru’s expression had darkened in fear a bit.

And his sword would have struck true should Adelheid had not followed him. The sword of the Sword Demon was parried and deflected while she herself kicked the Great Whale on its side, breaking bones and causing its bite on Subaru to also miss. “Esteemed Grandfather, if Pride dies we know not what could happen in the city! We should focus on a threat at the same time!”

“Exactly, Wilhelm! Hear your beloved granddaughter!! Shouldn't you be saving and protecting my life?” His cackle as he fell downwards, faster than the two of them, ignited Wilhelm’s fury. The Whale, meanwhile, was reeling from the hit, its maddened eyes now examining them. It could not win. It should retr…

Subaru’s smirk returned to its full brightness and he mouthed something while he kicked the ground again just before Wilhelm’s second strike was slid away by Adelheid. 

The Great Whale’s angered roar toppled nearby trees and made the ground tremble under its wrath. It was quick to unleash a new cloud of vanishing mist, forcing Adelheid to grab Wilhelm and join Subaru in the sky. The beast’s gaze returned to the Sin-Archbishop of Pride.

“Having fun yet?!?!” Not one of the three of them knew who or what he was referring to. The Great Whale’s tail struck the air again and from its sides two clones were created, all following the black-haired man in front. And Adelheid frowned. The unsheathed dragon sword would not allow itself to be used against the Great Whale and so she would have to pull her second blade yet, should she use one of her big attacks, Subaru would plummet to his death as he would be deprived of his spirits’ mana.

Wilhelm twirled in the air and escaped her grasp. Now falling sword first, he slammed against the clone at its right, causing it to bend due to the impact and cry in pain. 

“Esteemed Grandfather!” Joining in, her slash with her normal sword cut a metre deep into the beast, almost separating its sides and revealing all of its internal organs. Using the wailing clone in its death throes as a foothold, she continued shadowing the Sword Demon. “Should Pride die the Great Whale may retreat and return to the city! The people there-”

“We must purge the two evils in front, Sword Saintess! No cost is too big!” He was the first to jump, barely catching the Great Whale between the two clones as it was uncaringly diving forward towards the man.

The Sword Saintess did not scowl but grasped her off-hand weapon better. Noticing her increasing focus, Wilhelm unsheathed a second sword and threw it at the flying man with deathly precision, forcing her to cancel her powering strike and dash towards it. Her speed superior, she managed to jump off the dying whale before the sword hit, slamming it with her own blade and she herself hitting Subaru. Wilhelm uncaringly started to work his grim determination into the Great Whale.

Coughing thanks to the impact, Subaru lost control and could have slammed against a tree should Adelheid not had rotated and went first, her powerful legs strong enough to land them against the tree. This, of course, was only part of the problem, for the Great Whale’s clone was now turning towards Wilhelm together with the original one, both of them trying to stop his blade from carving them away.

Frowning, she let go of the Sin-Archbishop and jumped towards the three monsters again. “Thanks for the save, Adel!!” She now scowled at that, noticing these words lacked their unusual honesty. He was moving them somewhere…but where? Yet this was no time to think for Wilhelm was being forced to maintain his foothold on the rotating Whale spewing mist while the clone charged in, its mouth aiming true. 

Adelheid’s flying kick broke its lower jaw, dislocating it and almost tearing it off, moment Wilhelm used to throw a dagger at the Sin-Archbishop still resting on the tree, forcing Adelheid to replicate the throw, hers a sword, and hit that projectile mid air.

Wilhelm’s sword cut one of the fins of the real whale. “You are committing treason!” 

Adelheid, having used the clone whale to redirect herself, axe kicked the original on the head, slamming its roaring mouth shut and breaking dozens of fangs. “I am protecting the kingdom and its peo-” Its roar silenced her words and a new mist was created. Her blade cut through the shroud only to see a second dagger for which she had to lunge.

Uncaring for this chaotic free for all, Subaru finally managed to get himself off the top of the tree and fall down. Gravity was slowed and he propelled through the forest, dodging trees and obstacles with practised perfection. “The last one is chicken!!”

Both Whales sped forward, knocking out Wilhelm with the surge of haste and forcing Adelheid to leave them alone to save the falling man. And so the two beasts slammed through the forest, forever hungering towards that man with alien intense interest. And so the forest cried in panic. Trees were torn asunder, the ground destroyed with their mindless flight and all nearby animals having to run again from both the pyromaniac rocketing through the forest and the two Great Witchbeasts.

“You are protecting a rot, Sword Saintess! We can deal with both!” Resisting and fighting against her grasp, Wilhelm’s gaze had only space for revenge and hatred. Seeing his efforts as useless, he twirled as they fell and struck her head with a last kick, weakening her grasp barely enough to be let go. 

She did not flinch at his aggressiveness, her Divine Protections active still. She simply followed behind and did her best to ignore her choices of today. Yet, as she had said to him, she would never regret saving him. Thankfully, this small moment of pause was of no matter for her, for she was way faster than the other four.

…

Subaru finally managed that too close of a turn and avoided slamming back first against that fucker of a tree. Really, why had it chosen to grow there?! Shaking his head, and noticing how both of his spirits were on its last fumes of mana, Subaru propelled himself again with another tongue of fire and managed to reach the clearing. Hitting the ground and rolling around, he signalled for the nearby Felt to rush towards the artillery nest. Slowing down, he jumped to his feet and started his own mad rush, trying to outrun the three monsters and nemesis behind.

And what monsters they were, for Wilhelm jumped onto the clone and his slash targeted its neck, managing to reach its spinal cord and cause a wave of unending pain. Not done with that, he advanced forward during his macabre dance of death, continuously cutting his target apart while his left hand readied three daggers that he threw with uncanny precision. Really, Wilhelm had been more of a problem than the fucking Great Whale.

Meanwhile, the Hero fell against the real Whale. Striking it feet first, the titanic legend caused it to slam against the ground, the impact bringing chaos to the ground of the entire forest and felling the nearby trees while making it cry out in pain. And not done with that, her left grasped the stones that the impact had caused to rain all around and flung them towards the daggers, hitting the three of them and destroying those three dead ends.

Subaru kept up his run forwards to the middle of the clearing. Turning slightly, he smiled wildly at the Great Whale, continuously muttering the litany that had kept it mad. He really should be grateful that this operation had taken so many loops, for his stench was too overpowering to not follow it despite its survival instincts.

Both whales apathetically ignored the danger that caused both swordsmen to jump off them as they darted forward, the real one literally carving half of a tunnel through the dirt, stones and mud that housed the vegetation. And they managed to reach the middle of the clearing before twenty six artillery shells struck them both with terrifying accuracy, drastically angled and almost falling vertically. Not done with that, the trees behind Pride revealed their lethal treasure, the entire Sharp Legion. Two hundred and fifty war longbows that also let go of their shots just before the second volley, this one aimed horizontally and directly at the zone to arrive as close as it could to the first one, also hit the two creatures.

Their hides, severely damaged by Wilhelm and Adelheid, were unable to deflect or protect them against the barrage. The head and back of the original were blown up while its body was pierced by hundreds of arrows. The clone dispersed, original dead.

And Pride rose to his feet, being quickly joined by a Sharp Legion with new arrows nocked. “Well, well, well,” His mocking tone never wavered as he bowed deeply to the two warriors that had stopped again. “I have to thank you both for it was a pleasure to cooperate with you. As they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t it?”

Adelheid blinked at the…honest words. At the very least he had been thankful for her having been here, even if they also were a mockery directed at Wilhelm. Her hand relaxed a bit as her attention returned to the city. The combat had already died down…Not a civil war, Pride had decided to…

“Well, I could not really have Lust terrorise the kingdom I have chosen to terrorise now, could I?” As if he knew what she was going to ask, Subaru interrupted her thoughts. “There can only ever be one Super-Villain in Lugunica! And that’s me! Not Capella, not Pandora, not anyone!” His smile turned dark as he left his bow as his thoughts turned to their normal obsessiveness directed at her. “And that goes for you too, Adel. You are my nemesis, my antithesis, my other half.” And he extended his arms again to billow his cloak, to show the dangerous oranges below.

Her hand relaxed even further around the hilt of her sword. He was badly bruised. He had a few broken bones and a lot of portions of his clothing were burnt, with a few still housing alive flames. Yet he stood as prideful as always. Back straightened, eyes flaming in purpose, determined and confident, always focused on her…

“You are mine! Not Capella’s enemy, not anyone’s!”

And so she blinked, her Divine Protections struggling to stop her mind’s storm that was trying to understand the sight in front. Her eyes flowed to his lips, noticing the trail of blood falling from those. The taint of smoke on his skin, the…

“And so you will retreat once again, monster?  I am always surprised by your lack of bravery. You truly embody the worst of humanity.”

“Oh, you compliment me, old man!!” He twirled in his place, the movement ending the flames that highlighted his features. “But yes, we are retreating.” He bowed again. “I hope you have a horrible day, old man.”

And so the Sword Demon had little choice but to grasp the hilt of the sword and watch as the Witch Cult in front retreated, knowing the dangers that artillery housed. Adelheid’s gaze, on the back of the man she understood even less.

……….