(A/N: Yo. İ'm back)
As the sun began its slow, golden descent beyond the hills, the convoy gradually came to a halt once again. The sky had transformed into an ever-changing canvas of molten crimson and vibrant tangerine, painting the heavens with hues that seemed almost too vivid to be real. The rich colors bathed the weary world below in a warm, fleeting light. Among the campgrounds, where small tents had been pitched in neat, temporary clusters, the gentle scent of simmering stew and baked bread drifted through the air. It was the unmistakable signal of rest after a long day of travel and tension. Yet, for Subaru, no amount of dusk-drenched beauty or comforting aromas could ease the unrest in his chest.
His thoughts churned like a storm-swept sea. His heart felt squeezed in a vice of quiet dread. The same question continued to echo in his mind, louder with every breath: Hikari... why was she here? In this world of swords and spirits, what business did someone like her—someone from his own distant, modern reality—have? How had she been drawn here? Or worse—had someone brought her intentionally? Uncertainty gnawed at him, sharp as fangs.
Without speaking a word to anyone, Subaru stood and began to walk away from the camp, his gaze locked on the soil beneath his feet. Each step felt heavy, as if the earth itself tried to hold him back. His feet moved forward without a plan, driven not by purpose but by the desire to escape his thoughts. He was so absorbed in his own internal storm that he failed to notice the faint sound of footsteps behind him—Beatrice, following in silence, keeping her distance, yet refusing to leave him alone.
"Oi, Flugel," Subaru murmured at last, barely above a breath. His eyes didn't focus on anything in particular—they were fixed somewhere far ahead, beyond the mountains, beyond the sky itself. "You told me Hikari's presence here was the result of a temporal collision... or something like that. But what if it wasn't just her? Could that same anomaly bring others too? Could more people from my world be dragged into this place against their will?"
Flugel's voice answered almost instantly, whispering like ancient winds stirring dead leaves. It carried with it the patience—and the weight—of countless years. "Who knows? In the five centuries I've wandered this realm, I've never seen it happen... until now. Until you and her. But history doesn't always repeat itself. Sometimes, it escalates. We may not remain alone for long. But Subaru... this is not the time to let such thoughts consume you."
Subaru sighed deeply. His shoulders sagged slightly, as if bearing the invisible weight of responsibility had finally worn him down. "Yeah... I get that. Doesn't make it any easier."
The silence that followed was short-lived.
"The connection between you and your so-called master... it's not just in your head, is it? I can tell you're speaking with him again," came Beatrice's voice, piercing through the air like a silver needle.
Startled, Subaru turned to see the small girl just a few steps behind, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in her usual mix of suspicion and concern. He hadn't noticed her. Not at all. That realization struck him with a pang of guilt—he hadn't meant to shut her out.
"We've made a pact," Subaru admitted, his voice softer now. "Because of it, I can use some of his power... and sometimes, get glimpses of his knowledge. It's not perfect. But it's more than nothing."
Beatrice tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "And what is your master telling you now, hmm?"
Before Subaru could answer, Flugel's voice cut in with a harsh edge. The calm was gone, replaced with a grave intensity. "Oi. Stay alert. Something is coming."
"Something's comi—" Subaru didn't finish the sentence.
A sudden burst of light exploded overhead, pure and blinding. It washed over the camp in a brilliant wave of white, as though the stars themselves had been torn from the sky and thrown to the earth. The wind shifted with a shriek, and then—silence. The peaceful autumn breeze vanished, replaced by an eerie, pulsing stillness. Even the insects stopped chirping. Nature held its breath.
Then, instinct took over. Subaru reacted before thought could catch up.
"Beako! I'm going to check the source—see if anyone's hurt!" he called, his voice sharp with urgency. Before waiting for a response, he reached deep inside himself and drew mana from the cursed core lodged in his chest. With practiced precision, he surged it into his legs, enhancing his speed, and dashed toward the epicenter.
Just outside the camp, where grass smoldered in curling tendrils of smoke, a lone figure emerged.
He was tall—uncomfortably so—and stood as if carved from marble. His eyes remained closed, and platinum blonde hair cascaded down his back, rippling gently in the wind. As Subaru drew near, the man slowly opened his eyes. The irises that stared back at him were radiant gold, shining with a strange light that felt more invasive than illuminating.
There was an aura around him—divine, almost holy. He looked like a knight from an ancient order, sent by heaven itself. But that illusion was fragile. Beneath the sanctity was something deeply wrong. A dissonance that made the air around him feel heavier. Something wicked and sharp.
"Hm? So you're the one Pandora-sama warned me about?" the man asked, his tone deceptively casual, yet steeped in pride. Each syllable dripped with veiled disdain.
Subaru stopped a few steps away, instinctively bracing himself. Every muscle tensed. And then, as expected, Flugel spoke again.
"Ah... Pride. This could be interesting."
Subaru's brow furrowed. "What!? I've never heard of someone like you before now," he muttered, his eyes never straying from the golden gaze of the stranger.
The man smiled—not warmly, but with the satisfaction of someone who already saw the outcome.
"I am Lucas Veilhart, Archbishop of the Sin of Pride," he said, as if reciting scripture. "And you... who are you supposed to be?"
Subaru could feel it deep in his bones—this man standing before him wasn't just anyone. The sheer weight of his presence was suffocating, like a storm pressing down from all sides. The air itself felt brittle, ready to shatter from the pressure. This wasn't some run-of-the-mill opponent. This was something... more. Someone dangerous. Someone precise.
His heartbeat quickened, pulsing like a war drum in his chest. But he couldn't let that weakness show. No matter how heavy the aura felt, no matter how fast his thoughts scrambled for footing—he had to keep his composure. He had to survive.
"He's focused. Intense. I can't win through brute strength... not now," Subaru thought, trying to suppress the rising panic. "Maybe... if I confuse him. Maybe if I lie."
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and raised his chin. A forced smirk crossed his lips, sharp and confident.
"I am... the Archbishop of Sin representing Envy. Natsuki Subaru!"
The words shot through the atmosphere like lightning. They didn't just echo—they pierced. Subaru's heart thundered harder. The act was bold, but the consequences could be deadly. Claiming to be a Sin Archbishop? It was like painting a target on his back with glowing ink.
Lucas faltered. His golden eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Envy? Don't mock me. Our Church has no such Archbishop. You will show reverence."
Subaru kept the smirk alive, though his eyes glinted with a deeper, calculated clarity. "Each Witch represents a Sin, doesn't she? Why wouldn't Satella have her own representative? Her own blade?"
The mere mention of Satella froze the wind itself. Lucas's face twitched, a ripple of something close to fear cracking his stoic mask. The sacred calm shattered. Something far more lethal surfaced.
"Then prove it," Lucas growled, his voice now cold steel. "Or I'll end you right here."
Subaru's eyes sparkled—not with hope, but with madness. He threw his hand toward the sky as if casting a curse upon the heavens.
"I RETURN BY DEA—"
But the incantation was severed—not by magic or by blade, but by something far colder. A presence. A whisper. A ghostly hand slid across his cheek, as gentle as a mother's caress and yet colder than the deepest winter. Fingers brushed his chest—dark, feminine, jealous.
The Witch of Jealousy had answered.
Her shadows swirled about him, a cocoon of dread. They lingered for a breath, then retreated like receding waves. Time clicked back into motion.
The air grew toxic. The foul miasma billowed outward like black fog. Lucas reeled. He took a step back, his expression twisted into revulsion. His eyes—wide, wild, afraid.
"That aura... That Witch..."
His voice fractured. Whatever certainty he had shattered. For a moment, Lucas wasn't a warrior, but a man desperately trying to make sense of a nightmare.
"THE ENEMY OF PANDORA-SAMA!"
Subaru blinked, caught off guard. "What... did you just say?"
Flugel's voice snickered inside his head. "You idiot. You forgot, didn't you? Pandora and Satella are mortal enemies. You just outed yourself as her adversary."
The realization struck like a thunderclap. Subaru smacked his palm against his forehead. "Oh crap. Right."
Lucas's response was swift. He flung back his cloak and drew his weapon—a long, radiant greatsword etched with divine runes. His posture shifted into one of perfect balance and deadly precision. No more games. No more questions.
With a shoutless roar, he raised the sword toward the heavens. Runes lit up. Thunder cracked. The atmosphere itself seemed to split as raw mana gathered around him like a divine storm.
The ground trembled. The air howled. Mana surged so violently that even the earth began to fracture beneath their feet.
Subaru stepped back, half in awe, half in mockery. "Oh great. He's pulling the Excalibur routine. What's next—shouting the name like an anime protagonist?"
Flugel, clearly enjoying himself, chuckled darkly. "This is getting good. Let's give him something memorable. I'll lend you my strength this time."
Subaru didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Etherfang—his twin daggers glinting like twin moons of death. Their silver edges shimmered with anticipation.
His eyes burned. Focused. Clear.
He raised them skyward. Energy crackled around his frame. Shadows pulsed like a second skin.
[Mana Blade - Active]
[Shadow Blades - Active]
Flugel's voice rang out with gleeful malice. "Alright then, let's dance, Lucas."
[DING!]
Interference Detected.
[Shadow Blades - Mod: Yang Eater Activated]
Subaru funneled more mana into the blades. The daggers responded with hunger. Their edges darkened further, as if thirsting for the light around them. The shadows they emitted now coiled like serpents, heavy and dense.
Lucas's divine light flickered. Not extinguished—but dimmed.
This wasn't a battle of numbers. It was a battle of belief. And Subaru's belief was forged in death, pain, and resolve. His fire refused to go out.
The air between them was thick with the promise of devastation. This would be no ordinary clash. This would be legend.
Lucas had completed his charge. The greatsword in his hands trembled with divine fury, radiating an energy so intense that even the sky seemed to recoil. The heavens darkened around him, as though reality itself feared what was to come. With a voice that cracked like a storm across the battlefield, he shouted:
"PUNISH THE SINFUL. EX—"
Flugel practically howled with laughter, doubling over as if he'd just witnessed the universe's best punchline. "Oh sweet stars, he really pulled the 'holy smite' routine! What is this, a stage play from the third age?"
Subaru couldn't help but smirk. With mock theatrical flair, he raised his own voice, sharp as a dagger laced with sarcasm:
"ANTI-CALIBUR!"
What followed was nothing short of a clash between myth and madness. Lucas's divine wave of radiant light surged forward, holy and absolute. But Subaru's counterattack—an abyssal darkness fueled by Yin energy—did not resist. It absorbed. It consumed. It devoured.
The brilliant light began to unravel, being pulled into the gaping maw of Subaru's shadows. The sky dimmed as if mourning the sun. The ground shook as conflicting forces collided in a titanic struggle.
And then... silence.
Lucas's beam was gone—utterly erased. What remained was an oppressive stillness, the kind that made your heart forget to beat.
Lucas collapsed to his knees. His mind reeled. Disbelief etched itself into every line of his face. A chill spread through his limbs as he whispered, half to himself, "He nullified it... completely?"
He raised his head. What he saw sent a deeper tremor through his spirit. Subaru stood there, cloaked in shadows that seemed to breathe with sentience. The air around him distorted, reality buckling ever so slightly. This wasn't just a man. This was something ancient. Something forged in death.
"He wasn't even serious…"
A bead of sweat rolled down Lucas's cheek. His hands trembled, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. The memories of triumph—victories in crusades, blessings from the high clergy, the awe of crowds—felt like distant, childish dreams.
"I was among the strongest in my world. I led armies. I bore divine favor… How can I be dismantled so easily?"
He gritted his teeth. A drop of blood fell from his lip where he had bitten down in frustration. His pride shattered, but something stubborn clung to the fragments.
"No... not yet. I won't lose here."
He slammed his fingers into the dirt, feeling the cool earth claw beneath his nails. His voice rose again, guttural and raw:
"I WON'T ACCEPT THIS!" In a burst of searing light, he vanished.
Subaru didn't relax. His eyes scanned the terrain, Etherfang daggers in hand, both still alive with pulsating shadow energy. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, but every fiber of his body remained on alert.
"Where will he strike next?" he muttered.
He didn't have to wait long.
Something screamed through the air—a projectile. His instincts roared. Subaru dove to the side, narrowly dodging the attack. But not completely.
A hot blade tore across his right shoulder, leaving behind a searing wound that erupted in pain.
"Agh—Damn it, it burns!" Subaru winced, clutching the wound. Blood soaked into his tunic, steam rising from the gash.
Flugel's voice rang out inside his head, calm and instructive. "Yang magic. Like Priscilla's sword. It doesn't just burn—it scorches mana directly. That's why it hurts so much."
Subaru wiped sweat from his brow and laughed—a dry, pained sound. "Alright then. If he wants a magic duel, I'll give him one—my way."
He raised his hand, his voice a quiet command:
"SHAMAK."
Dark mist exploded from his body, swallowing the landscape. A suffocating fog of absolute blackness spread outward, dulling sound and sight. Even the wind seemed to hush in its presence.
[Yin Step - Active]
Subaru merged into the shadows. The darkness embraced him, empowering him. This was his world now. His battlefield.
But then— A voice pierced the dark. Cold. Controlled. Absolute.
"Jiwald."
A column of divine light rained down from the sky. It cut through the shadows like a blade through silk, dispelling Shamak in an instant. The Yin Step shattered before it could even be fully realized.
[Yin Step - Activation Failed]
The shadows recoiled. Subaru staggered, falling to one knee. The veil of darkness had been torn from him. Vulnerable, exposed, he tried to see through the lingering mist.
Lucas was nowhere in sight. Only the silence remained—an oppressive, endless quiet.
Subaru's breath came in short, rattling bursts. His eyes darted across the blurred horizon.
"What... the hell is going on?" he murmured, dread coiling in his gut. The next strike was coming. And he wasn't ready for it.
As the word left his lips, the air seemed to tremble.
"Jiwald."
The same incantation rang out again—sharp, guttural, absolute. Subaru barely had time to shift his weight when a blistering column of Yang magic exploded into his chest. The force launched him backward like a paper doll caught in the path of a hurricane.
"AGHHH!"
His body hit the dirt with a sickening thud, smoke rising from his scorched tunic. His skin bubbled with raw burns; only the reflex of shielding his face had spared him a worse fate. Pain seared through every nerve as he struggled for air, lungs crackling with agony.
"QUIT HIDING, YOU FLAMING COWARD!" he shouted through clenched teeth, using rage to drag himself to his feet. Blood seeped from his shoulder, evaporating into steam before hitting the ground.
Lucas's voice echoed like the pronouncement of a bored god halfway through a soliloquy. "Coward? Really now, how quaint. Is that your strategy? Shouting at the dark and hoping it blinks first? You envy-driven mockery. You, who burns with jealousy in every twitch of your eye, dare question me? I do not hide—I conduct. I am the rhythm, the crescendo, the conductor and the symphony. If you can't see me, maybe it's not because I've vanished… maybe it's because you never learned to look."
Subaru's expression tightened. The battlefield was eerily silent, yet every syllable Lucas spoke oozed menace. He wasn't fleeing—he was playing with him.
Then came Flugel's snickering voice, bright as ever. "Ah, now the spotlight turns. He's not gone, he's shimmering. That smug bastard is refracting light around himself—like wrapping a mirror maze in sunlight. You're not blind; you're just staring into a kaleidoscope. The trick's flashy, but not flawless."
Subaru inhaled deeply, letting the air cool his burned chest. The illusion was clever, but no illusion was perfect.
"So it's a prism," he muttered. "A light-bent cage. He's bouncing rays like a painter smudging the lines. But darkness eats light. And I've got enough of it to starve a sun."
He closed his eyes and remembered Roswaal's unnerving chants, the layered tones of mana control. He whispered internally—one beat, two, three—then opened his mouth, voice booming:
"Shamak—tenfold!"
The magic exploded.
Black mist surged outward like a tidal wave of ink, thickening into a sentient cloud. It wasn't smoke anymore—it was alive. It was Subaru's will made manifest. It coiled through Lucas's fractured dome of refracted light, burrowing into its every flaw. The artificial illumination dimmed as if night had bared its fangs.
Within seconds, Subaru had stolen the spotlight.
Lucas's shield collapsed inward. Vision failed. Sound smothered. And in the heart of the growing void, Subaru stood sharpened and whole.
Lucas flailed, unleashing Jiwalds like a cornered beast, but the blasts were erratic—aimless. Light surged and fizzled, consumed by creeping gloom.
Subaru didn't run. He danced.
[Fade - Active]
[Yin Step - Active]
The air parted silently as he moved. Each step was a whisper. The Etherfang daggers in his hands pulsed with malignant grace, shadows licking their edges like fire craving fuel. With practiced ease, Subaru channeled his mana into the blades, funneling it until they howled with pressure.
[Overburst - Active]
Then he struck. A void-laced shockwave erupted from his form. The shadows twisted, snapped—and lashed.
Lucas never saw it coming. Pain flashed white-hot as one of Subaru's blades tore through his shoulder, severing his right arm in a clean, brutal arc. Etherfang hissed as blood splattered into mist.
Lucas howled, his scream echoing through the fog. He stumbled back, crippled, clutching the air where his limb once was.
But the act wasn't over.
The real performance had only just begun.
Subaru advanced, breath steady, eyes glowing faintly with a violet shimmer from residual mana. His posture wasn't just prepared—it was theatrical.
Lucas, panting, stared through the haze. "You… You're not even human…"
Subaru tilted his head. "Oh? That's rich, coming from the guy screaming Latin while hiding behind sunlight. Want me to clap when you reappear again, or is this the intermission?"
Lucas gritted his teeth. He was bleeding heavily, his spells weakening, but his pride bled more than his body.
"This isn't over," he spat.
"No," Subaru said, cracking his neck with a smirk. "This is the encore."
Subaru emerged from the swirling shadows, Etherfang daggers still flickering in his grasp. Before him, Lucas knelt—face pale, twisted in pain, blood pouring from where his right arm once was. The once-proud Archbishop of Pride looked like a broken relic, a fallen idol from a crumbled altar.
"Oi oi oi! Look at you, mighty Archbishop of Pride! Weren't you supposed to be second only to Envy in the grand lineup of overdramatic lunatics? 'I am the greatest!'—remember that line? You practically screamed it from the mountaintops. And now look at you. Can't even land a proper Jiwald. Honestly, I've seen raccoons throw more accurate fireballs. This is what happens when you build a reputation on hot air and sparkles. I mean, did you even rehearse your lines before showing up? You're less of a Pride bearer and more of a Pride parody. Bravo! Really."
Flugel's laughter slithered into his mind like smoke. "He hasn't even used his Authority yet. But I gotta say—you're his natural predator. Envy Authority and Yin magic? That combo eats Pride alive."
Lucas, still trembling, tried to push himself up, fingers digging into the dirt. His body shook like a marionette with snapped strings. He rose, barely, leaning on one knee. The rise wasn't triumphant; it was theatrical defeat—slow, heavy, pitiful. His shoulders sagged under invisible weight. His eyes—once shining with certainty—were now hollow orbs flickering with fear, shame, and something older… regret, perhaps.
He whispered, brittle and broken: "Forgive me... Pandora-sama..."
She had warned him to save the Authority for when it mattered. But time had run out. The script had changed, and he was no longer the director.
The Authority of Pride awakened not with grace, but violence. A crimson rupture tore through his chest—metaphysical and raw. The aura burst out like blood through a shattered dam. The air twisted, humming with dread. A scent—like scorched iron and forgotten sins—filled the battlefield. Time staggered.
Lucas rose to his full height. His golden eyes deepened into burning crimson. When he spoke again, it was not the voice of a man—it was the declaration of something far older.
Subaru tensed, every nerve alight. The air weighed differently. Mana warped like glass in a kiln. It wasn't showmanship anymore.
"This… isn't a game," Subaru thought grimly. "This is the real deal."
Lucas pointed at him. Just a gesture—but from the fingertip, a spark of scarlet energy hissed into existence.
It didn't hit Subaru. It passed through him. Not with pain, but with weight—an internal gravity that crushed his breath, his thoughts, his sense of direction. Behind Lucas, the ground cracked open, and from that rift rose a throne.
Silver trimmed with ruby. Pulsing with eldritch radiance. It looked forged not from metal, but from collective worship and unspoken fears. Lucas ascended it like it had always been his.
Subaru blinked, breath caught in his throat. "Wait… All this chaos—for a chair?!"
Lucas said nothing, but the corners of his mouth tugged into a knowing, pitiful smile.
Then—silhouettes. Five of them, gliding through the air behind Subaru, silent and spectral. Familiar shapes. Terrifyingly familiar.
Beatrice. Meili. Elsa. Julius. Anastasia. Their bodies floated, heads bowed, eyes closed. Lifeless. Soulless.
One by one, they drifted forward until they knelt before the throne like broken puppets answering a king's call.
Subaru's blood froze. Instinct screamed. He dropped into a defensive stance as the air thickened like soup. In a blink, the five bodies shimmered—flickered like faulty projections—and reformed. Not illusions. Not memories. Copies.
Their eyes opened—pale, glassy, unseeing. Their bodies vibrated with unnatural stillness, like machines powered by stolen breath.
"W-What the hell is this?!" Subaru stammered, stepping back. He reached inward, mental voice cracking: "Flugel! What the actual hell is going on?!"
The stage was no longer his. It belonged to the Throne of Pride—and its audience of shadows.
Flugel's voice echoed in Subaru's mind like a dark, distant whisper that clawed at the edges of his consciousness:
"He activated the Authority of Pride. You pushed him too far, you foolish child. It seems like he can manipulate the people his opponents care about... turning them into some twisted, self-replicated version of themselves. This isn't just about physical form. Their combat abilities... their tactics... perhaps even their memories could be copied, mimicked, and weaponized against you. I can't fathom the exact mechanism behind it... but one thing is certain—this is very, very bad."
A wicked smile curled across Lucas's face, growing wider with every passing second. His eyes—cold, gleaming with unrestrained arrogance—locked onto Subaru like a predator sizing up its prey, as if enjoying the helpless flailing of a trapped animal before the kill.
"Envy... That's what this is, isn't it? You dared to belittle me. Me. Lucas Veilhart? One of the most brilliant, transcendent minds to ever grace this wretched planet with his existence. A man whose will bends the stars to his liking... whose single gaze is enough to bring sprawling civilizations crumbling to their knees. I was born in the heart of ruin, forged in the fires of chaos itself. I didn't crawl out of destruction... I rose. I am destruction given form, the embodiment of power, pride, and honor."
Lucas took a single, deliberate step forward. Each word from his mouth felt like a decree from a malevolent god:
"Just laying a finger on me is a privilege you are utterly undeserving of... and yet you had the audacity... the sheer gall... to mock me? To spit your worthless defiance in my direction like you were my equal?"
A slow, breathy chuckle escaped Lucas's throat—a sound low, dangerous, and dripping with venomous delight. The air around him thickened, as if space itself hesitated to exist near him.
"And yet..." Lucas said, voice deepening to something almost contemplative, "I cannot deny the truth staring me in the face. We are... of the same breed. You, too, carry potential that cannot be chained... something that refuses to fit inside the fragile framework of mortal expectation. That is why... I will be generous. I will be magnanimous. I am forgiveness incarnate. Even the gods in their lofty heavens burn with envy at the breadth of my mercy."
Lucas extended one hand towards Subaru as though offering a divine blessing to a lowly subject:
"I offer you a chance. Because Lucas Veilhart has the power to destroy with a thought... but also... to nurture, to uplift... if he so wills it. So I say this—make your choice."
His voice deepened further, becoming something thick and heavy, like a prayer echoing endlessly through the cavernous halls of a long-forgotten cathedral:
"If you manage to defeat these five individuals standing before you... including me... I will step aside. I will let you pass. But... should you fail... you will become mine. Every piece of you. Your soul, your body... your very existence will be woven into my Authority. You will cease to be you... and become an extension of my will."
Subaru held his breath. Every muscle in his body tensed like a coiled spring ready to snap. His heart pounded wildly inside his chest, each beat screaming for fight or flight. Yet he stood there, unyielding, eyes burning with defiance as they locked onto Lucas's.
"I'd rather die a thousand times with my head held high... than spend even a single second existing under the rule of some delusional, self-obsessed idiot who mistakes the echo of his own narcissism for divine wisdom," Subaru spat, his voice steady but laced with venom. "Also... for an Archbishop... you're honestly kind of dumb, Lucas. Ever tried... I don't know... being even slightly smarter?"
For a heartbeat, the air stood still. Then Lucas's brow twitched. His pupils shrank. The light in his eyes shifted from cold amusement to incandescent rage.
"How... dare you... HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME!"
Before the final syllable had even finished leaving his lips, Lucas vanished. Space warped around where he stood, as if reality itself was trying and failing to hold him in place. In the next instant, he reappeared behind Subaru—faster than light, faster than thought. The air exploded in protest. The ground cracked beneath them. Even time seemed to stutter for a fraction of a second, recoiling in the face of Lucas's overwhelming will.
Before Subaru could so much as flinch, Lucas's blade tore through him. The cold bite of metal slid between his ribs, cleaving through flesh and bone with merciless precision. Subaru's lungs collapsed under the sudden trauma. Blood erupted from his mouth like a violent bloom of red flowers, staining the air and the earth below.
Slowly—so agonizingly slow—Subaru's gaze drifted upward. He locked eyes with Lucas, defiance burning through the haze of pain clouding his senses. Even now... even as death's cold fingers curled around him... his pride remained unbroken.
"Lucas... yeah, you can kill me..." Subaru coughed, forcing the words through blood and agony, "but you will never defeat me. No matter how many tricks you pull... no matter how many times you cut me down... this... this is all you'll ever manage to do."
For the briefest, most fragile of moments... Lucas froze. The words lodged themselves somewhere deep within him. He couldn't comprehend them. Couldn't grasp the meaning behind Subaru's unyielding defiance. The concept was alien... unreachable. And it always would be.
Subaru's knees gave out. His body slumped forward, collapsing like a puppet with its strings severed. Consciousness dimmed like the last flicker of a dying candle... but even in that darkness, a single thought burned bright:
"Next time..."
And then... through the growing void... came a voice. Sweet, soft, and drenched in madness. The Witch of Envy herself... her words threading through Subaru's fading mind like silk dipped in poison:
"I love you."
[Return by Death - Active]