Rem and Emilia walked together, carrying Subaru between them. Rem took the lead, her steps steady, while Emilia kept her face hidden beneath the tattered hood. They entered the Arlam village, and the villagers rushed towards them, their voices filled with concern. "Oi, you guys! Are you all alright?" they cried. Emilia flinched slightly, but Rem gave her a reassuring nod, silently conveying that everything would be alright.
The villagers pressed closer, their initial relief morphing into a collective gasp of horror as they recognized the still figure carried between Rem and Emilia. "Is that...?" one villager choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "No... it can't be. Subaru-sama... he was so strong..." another stammered, his words trailing off into a sob.
A wave of despair swept through the crowd, tears flowing freely. "He was so full of life..." Milde murmured, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with an unspeakable grief. "Oh, my boy... what have they done to you?"
"Su-boy..." Ryuzu approached, her steps slow and deliberate, her gaze tender. She reached out, her aged hand gently caressing Subaru's hair, a gesture of quiet comfort. "You knew Subaru-kun?" Rem asked, her voice a mix of shock and confusion.
"Yes," Ryuzu replied, her voice soft, a gentle smile gracing her lips despite the tears that welled in her eyes. "Su-boy was our hero. He didn't just free us from the Sanctuary's walls; he freed us from the fear that held us captive. He gave us a future to look forward to." Her gaze lingered on Subaru, her smile unwavering, seemingly untouched by the gruesome disfigurement of his face. "He was a light in the darkness."
Hearing Ryuzu's words, a wave of warmth washed over Rem, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. Even in death, Subaru's impact resonated, a testament to the man he was.
"Um, Rem-san," a villager spoke, his voice hesitant. "We know you must be in a hurry, but please, take this from us." Rem looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze falling upon a sword held out to her.
"Since the day he ascended to the rank of knight, we wanted to celebrate his achievement... but... but..." The villager's voice trailed off, choked with emotion. Another villager placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, continuing on his behalf. "We couldn't get the fateful chance. Please, accept this."
Rem looked into the villager's determined eyes, the sincerity in his gaze mirrored in the faces of the crowd. "Please, accept it for our hero, Subaru-sama," they echoed, their voices a chorus of heartfelt requests.
As Rem accepted the gift, the weight of the villagers' grief pressing upon her, Emilia lingered, a ghost in the gathering shadows. The familiar sting of rejection, the phantom whispers of "witch," resurfaced, amplified by the raw guilt of her recent actions. Her sudden, violent outburst, her selfish plea to abandon everything – the consequences of her choices were etched in the villagers' sorrow, a heavy burden she carried. She trailed after Rem, silent and withdrawn, clinging to the anonymity afforded by the villagers' shared grief.
The villagers, their hearts heavy with loss, barely registered Emilia's presence. Their world had shrunk to the cold, still form of their hero. Ryuzu watched Rem and Emilia depart, a deep frown etching lines on her aged face. She understood, perhaps more than anyone, the turmoil that had unfolded. Though their acquaintance was brief, she recognized the strength and compassion that resided within Rem. She knew that Rem, driven by a fierce loyalty, would never succumb to blind rage. She was a guardian, a protector, her actions always tempered by a deep well of empathy. Ryuzu's gaze, filled with a quiet understanding, followed them as they disappeared into the gathering twilight.
They walked in a somber procession, the weight of Subaru's lifeless form a heavy burden, until the looming silhouette of the Roswaal manor came into view. As the grand doors swung open, revealing the warm glow of the interior, Beatrice, Frederica, and Ram rushed forward, their faces etched with worry and a desperate hope that no further tragedy had befallen them. Ram, her expression a mask of raw remorse, stumbled forward, her voice choked with unshed tears. "Sissy, I..."
"I am sorry," she managed to utter, her voice trembling, each word a painful admission of her failings. "I am sorry for being so utterly ignorant and incompetent. I have allowed my pride to blind me, to overshadow my responsibilities as a sister."
She clutched at Rem's gown sleeve, her fingers digging into the fabric, her voice breaking into a desperate sob. "Please... you can resent me, you can punish me for stealing Barusu from you, but... but please, don't abandon me." Ram, finally releasing the floodgates of pent-up guilt and fear, looked up at Rem, her eyes pleading, her vulnerability laid bare.
Then, her gaze snapped towards Emilia, her expression transforming into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. "You!" she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Why do you always insist on being so utterly selfish? Ignoring the pain you inflict on those around you, wallowing in self-pity, always playing the victim? How much more grief will you force us to endure?"
"Ram," Rem's voice cut through the tension, low and sharp, a stark contrast to her usual gentle tone. Ram froze, her eyes widening in stunned disbelief. Never, in her wildest nightmares, had she imagined hearing such a tone from her sister.
And, more significantly, Rem had addressed her as "Ram," not "Nee-sama," the respectful honorific she always used. The lack of formality, coupled with the icy edge in Rem's voice, sent a chill down Ram's spine. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that this was not a reprimand to be taken lightly. This was serious.
"Please," Rem began, her voice soft but firm, "I never resented you for being hateful to Subaru-kun."
"Both he and I knew how concerned you were for his safety," she continued, her words surprising the others. "He always spoke happily about you, of course, until the time I was able to spend time with you all." Tears began to well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Ram, stunned, listened intently, unsure of where Rem was leading.
"You see, Subaru-kun asked me to run away with him, a long time ago," Rem revealed, her voice trembling. A wave of guilt washed over Emilia and Ram, a painful pang of regret. If only he had run away, perhaps he would still be alive.
"He planned on getting a job, earning enough to support us both, and live a happy life," Rem continued, her voice filled with a bittersweet longing.
"I even decided on names for our children the moment he confessed to me," she said, a small, fragile smile gracing her lips. "A boy would be Rigel, and a girl would be Spica." Rem's smile grew brighter as she painted a mental image of her imagined children.
"But I didn't run away. It would have been a dream come true, but... he was too good for me. I hesitated, thinking I wasn't good enough for him, that I…I….."
Ram stared at Rem, her gaze fixed on the slow, steady tears that traced paths down her sister's face, each one a stark testament to her profound loss. Ram felt utterly lost, adrift in a sea of unspoken emotions. Words failed her, and her expression remained a blank canvas, reflecting her inability to comprehend the depth of Rem's pain. She didn't know how to bridge the chasm of grief that had opened between them, how to offer solace to her sister's shattered heart.
Emilia stood watching the scene unfold, Rem's words echoing in her mind. "I was incompetent. I knew it. I held onto the failing hope of ever doing anything on my own." A pang of jealousy, intertwined with self-criticism, tightened her chest. She felt utterly inferior, envying the depth of the mutual love that had existed between Subaru and Rem. Though she had never shared such intimate conversations with Subaru, she could deduce, from Rem's heartfelt words, that there was a hidden depth to their relationship, a side of her knight that remained utterly foreign to her.
"I rejected him," Rem cried, her voice breaking, "and I pushed him to his death in the name of 'not giving up.'" Ram, her anger dissipating, stepped forward and embraced her sister, offering silent comfort. Emilia, holding Subaru close, watched the scene unfold, finding a small measure of solace in the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.
Frederica knew Rem's unwavering devotion to her sister. Yet, the words spilling from Rem's lips felt utterly foreign, jarring her senses. She found herself lost in a disbelieving haze. "Rem leaving her sister? For a man!" The thought struck her like a wrecking ball, stunning her into an instant of bewildered silence.
Frederica stood apart, her brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze fixed on the white-haired boy cradled in Emilia's arms. A whirlwind of questions swirled in her mind: "Who was this boy? Why did he evoke such profound grief from everyone around her?" Her eyes scanned his disfigured features.
a wave of horror washed over her. Despite her beastly nature, Frederica possessed a gentle soul, a quiet empathy she often concealed behind a facade of stoicism. The sight of his injuries, the stark contrast between his peaceful repose and his ravaged face, filled her with a deep, unsettling sadness.
Frederica's mind raced, searching through her memories for any trace of this white-haired boy, any connection that might explain the depth of everyone's grief. Amidst the confusion, Ram, having broken away from her embrace with Rem, approached Emilia.
Emilia flinched slightly, her expression remaining hidden beneath her torn magic cloak, her eyes still obscured. The room fell silent, everyone watching as Ram raised her hand. With a gentle touch, she caressed the patchy white hair of Subaru. "You did well, holding on for so long. I am very sorry, Barusu."
"No," a voice corrected, soft but firm, "Natsuki Subaru."
"Thank you, Subaru-kun, for taking care of Nee-sama," Rem whispered softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
Frederica's mind reeled, the name finally triggering a cascade of memories. She hadn't been close to Subaru, not because of any personal dislike, but because as the camp grew, her duties multiplied. With each new member, her responsibilities expanded, leaving her increasingly stretched and preoccupied.
The limited conversations they had shared, however, never failed to amaze her. His charm, the way he'd coaxed her brother out of his shell, his sheer unpredictability—she now understood why Rem had fallen for such a kind and gentle soul.
With this realization, her mind replayed their final interaction before they departed for Watergate City.
"Frederica-san," Subaru called from behind her as she prepared the vegetables for lunch.
"Ah, Subaru-sama, please allow me to finish my task," she said gently, setting the vegetables aside and turning to face him.
"What may I help you with?" she asked, eager to know if there was anything she could assist him with. After all, she felt deeply indebted to him for helping her achieve her goal of liberating the Sanctuary.
"Well, it's... um..." Subaru stammered, his words faltering. "You see, we're going to Priestella... and..." He struggled to find the right words to express his thoughts.
"Are you worried about me being away from Garfiel?" Frederica asked, offering a gentle smile, amazed by his boundless kindness.
"Well, I realized how long you two were apart, and to reunite without being able to spend much time together due to the workload at the manor... I feel guilty. Especially since this trip might be longer, and you'll be separated from him again..." Subaru spoke, a blush creeping onto his face. Then, his expression turned serious.
"You see, I can understand... even though I have no brothers or sisters, I can understand being apart from your family, especially with the guilt that somehow, somewhere, you abandoned them," Subaru said, receiving a pitying look from Frederica.
"Subaru-sama," Frederica said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Even if Garfiel is young, he's still my brother. I trust him, and I know he won't falter. Sure, he has his struggles as he tries to pave his path toward his end goal, but I trust you for that. Please, take care of my brother." Frederica bowed, trusting Subaru because she knew he was the one person who could understand Garfiel more than anyone else at that moment.
Subaru smiled, feeling awkward about the bow. He instinctively bowed back in the most awkward way possible.
"Why... why didn't I remember sooner?" The question echoed in her mind, a sharp sting of self-reproach. She realized, with a chilling clarity, that for so long, her focus had been solely on her disciple and her camp members. She had neglected to even consider, to even remember, the existence of this young man. A wave of self-loathing washed over her. "How could I do this? How could I deny him the simple dignity of remembering him, after all he did for us?"
Tears welled in her eyes, a testament to her profound regret. She was indebted to Subaru, the white-haired boy whose infectious charisma had liberated the Sanctuary. He had not only freed its residents but had also been instrumental in mending the fractured relationship between her and Garfiel. The reunion with her brother, a blessing she cherished above all else, was a direct result of Subaru's actions. The realization that she had failed to acknowledge his contribution, his very existence, was a crushing blow.
She recalled all the precious memories Subaru gifted her, if it wasn't for him then these precious memories would have been lost forever.
Curled up in the mansion's garden, Garfiel meticulously groomed his fur. He had no particular reason to be in that specific spot, but the garden offered a sense of comfort he couldn't find elsewhere within the manor's walls.
While a room had been designated for him, Garfiel was reluctant to sleep anywhere that didn't carry his own distinct scent. Thus, he roamed the mansion grounds, settling in various locations throughout the day.
His movements were erratic, lacking any discernible pattern. Otto and the others, when needing to find him, were often forced to wander the mansion aimlessly.
The only person consistently able to locate him was Frederica, who now stood before him. Except, of course, for Ram, to whose side Garfiel would instantly appear if she called.
Frederica, with her long blonde hair and emerald green eyes, shared a striking resemblance to Garfiel. They were biological siblings, albeit from different fathers, a fact neither seemed to place much importance upon.
They had far more pressing matters to consider, such as the long, arduous years they had spent apart.
Indeed, Garfiel and Frederica had been separated for over a decade.
At fourteen years old, Garfiel had spent more of his life apart from his older sister than he had with her. Yet, the bond of beast-man blood was undeniable, making it impossible to mistake a sibling for another.
Despite the changes in her appearance since their separation, he recognized her as his kin, the one for whom he harbored complex and long-standing feelings.
"..." Garfiel drifted into a thoughtful silence.
"Garf, is something wrong?" Frederica asked, concerned by his sudden quiet.
Snapping out of his reverie, Garfiel shook his head. "Nah."
"Jus' kinda not used ta Sis bein' so huge and so... Guh!?"
"Please stop saying 'huge this' and 'huge that' about a woman's height and physique, geez," Frederica chided, lightly striking him.
"S-say that before ya hit me..." Garfiel grumbled.
A wave of warmth fluttered through Frederica's heart as she recalled the early days of their reunion, when Garfiel was still adjusting to life outside the Sanctuary. He had been so wonderfully, endearingly oblivious to the world beyond its borders, his manners still rough around the edges, a testament to his isolated upbringing.
But now, standing before her, was a scene of horror, a stark testament to betrayal. The person who had done so much for her, despite their connection being merely that of work colleagues, lay broken. Not only had she forgotten the blessing he bestowed, but she had also callously disregarded his very existence. She wasn't foolish; she understood the pang of guilt that Ram must feel, the regret of a sister who had forgotten and denied her own kin. Frederica's own abandonment of Garfiel, her leaving him in search of a home with the hope of a liberated Sanctuary, mirrored Ram's experience. But had her abandonment truly been justified? The question gnawed at her. Had she done anything other than shirk her responsibilities onto others?
A frown creased her brow. "Subaru-sama did so much, but I didn't even get the chance to repay his kindness," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, tears slowly welling in her eyes.
A small tug on her gown from behind broke her reverie. A sleepy voice, soft and hesitant, called out, "Frederica nee-sama?"
"Is everything alright?" the young maid asked, her bedraggled hair and lime-green nightgown betraying her slumber, her eyes filled with concern for the sudden somber atmosphere.
"Petra-chan!"
Frederica quickly snapped out of her grief and self-loathing. She knew this was not the moment for her disciple to witness such a devastating scene, to see their idol in such a broken state. She needed to create a convincing excuse, to shield them from the harsh reality. She knew her disciple was not naive. Though their youthful appearance might suggest otherwise, they were cunning and perceptive, capable of discerning the true atmosphere. She was proud of her disciple's intelligence, but at this particular moment, she found herself bitterly resenting it.
"Petra-chan," Frederica said, striving for a calm demeanor, "Emilia-sama and the others have just returned from their search. We need to prepare the rooms immediately. Let's get moving."
Petra noticed Frederica's underlying unease, but chose not to press her. She simply followed, adding, "Nee-sama is always so efficient. She made sure to alert everyone to the urgency of their arrival."
Frederica and Petra departed, their focus shifting to preparing the rooms for the weary camp members. Frederica began cleaning the broken glass from the hallway, while Petra ascended the stairs to ready the rooms for everyone's much-needed rest after the day's sudden chaos.
"Emilia-sama, let me heal that scar of yours—" Rem began, but Emilia cut her off.
"It's alright," Emilia said, her voice resolute. "I will carry this as a symbol of my failure, to remind me of him." Rem frowned slightly.
Ram, noticing the bruises and disheveled hair of both Rem and Emilia, instinctively pushed Rem forward, leaving Subaru in Emilia's care. She paused only to bow deeply to them both. "Emilia-sama, I hope you will excuse my rude remarks and my sister's outburst."
"We will surely make amends for our actions," she added, before turning and leaving with Rem. Seeing her sister in such a state filled Ram with an overwhelming sense of guilt. A chilling thought, one she could barely comprehend, crept into her mind. "What if I had lost both my sissy and Barusu?" The vivid image sent a shiver down her spine, and she hurried her steps, vowing to never let Rem out of her sight again.
Emilia stood alone in the hall, the silence broken only by her soft sigh. She took a step forward, but a sudden, forceful push sent her stumbling backward. Subaru's body slipped from her grasp, falling onto the carpet with a soft thud. "Subaru!" Emilia cried out, a small, panicked scream escaping her lips. She slammed against the wall, the impact jarring her already exhausted body. "Augh... Ghk..." The force of the collision, combined with her existing fatigue, made her retch. She felt sick and weak, but her mind remained sharp. "This is how Subaru must have felt," she thought, a wave of empathy washing over her. "Always trying his best for everyone."
"YOU STUPID HALF-ELF!" Beatrice stormed forward, her small frame radiating a fierce anger. Her expression was a mask of fury, making it clear she had no intention of listening to any excuses. She wanted to unleash her wrath upon the one she deemed responsible for her contractor's suffering, and for the disrespect shown to his achievements.
She had held back before, hesitant to speak her mind, because Subaru himself had seemed unperturbed. But Beatrice, who had spent countless hours at his side, knew better. She knew the depths of Subaru's hidden emotions, the carefully constructed facade he maintained.
"HOW LONG WILL YOU KEEP MAKING HIM SUFFER?" Beatrice screamed, her voice cracking with emotion. "Who do you think he did so much for? Why do you think, even after failing so many times, he always stood back up?"
"I WAS THERE FOR HIM ALL THOSE TIMES YOU IGNORED HIM! I STAYED WITH HIM!" she continued, her voice rising in fury.
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW A SINGLE THING ABOUT HIM?" Beatrice's words were a raw, unfiltered expression of her pain and anger, each syllable piercing Emilia's heart like shards of ice.
"ALL THOSE NIGHTS..." Beatrice's voice trembled, a choked sob escaping her lips, "ALL THOSE NIGHTS HE'D HURT HIMSELF. ON PURPOSE. LIKE HE WAS PUNISHING HIMSELF FOR... FOR FAILING EVERYONE. HIS EYES... THEY GOT DARKER EVERY DAY. THE SUBARU I KNEW... THE ONE WHO'D BUG YOU UNTIL YOU SAW HIM, THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU STORIES ABOUT HIS HOME, THE ONE WHO SMILED, EVEN WHEN HE WAS BREAKING INSIDE... HE WAS GONE. A LITTLE MORE EACH DAY."
Her voice broke completely, the raw pain of her grief overwhelming her. She stumbled towards Subaru's body, her small frame shaking with uncontrollable sobs. "Subaru... Subaru, please," she whispered, her voice a desperate, broken plea, "please, don't leave me." She curled up beside him, clutching his arm, her tears soaking into his clothes. "Please... come back." She was lost, adrift in a sea of grief, clinging to the fading warmth of his memory. Slowly, exhaustion pulled her under, and she drifted into a fitful, tear-streaked sleep.
Emilia watched, her heart a fractured thing, each shard reflecting her guilt and sorrow. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but she felt unworthy. "I don't deserve to touch him," she thought, her tears falling silently. "Not after what I've done." But she couldn't leave them on the floor. With a gentle touch, she lifted Beatrice and Subaru into her arms, carrying them to their room. She laid them on the bed, side by side, their forms intertwined. Then, with a heavy sigh, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Emilia walked to the bathroom, filling the tub with water as cold as the night air. She sank into the frigid depths, her gown still clinging to her body, and submerged herself, washing away the grime and blood that stained her skin. The icy water served as a harsh balm, soothing both her physical injuries and the burning agony of self-hatred that consumed her.
As her anger and self-loathing surged, she slowly emerged from the tub, her gown now plastered to her form, revealing the delicate curves of her elven physique. She moved to the bathroom mirror, her gaze fixed on her reflection. Each touch to her bruised and battered face sent a jolt of pain through her, a pain that offered a twisted sense of relief. She pushed her pain receptors to their limits, finding a perverse satisfaction in the self-inflicted torment. This, she reasoned, was the only way she could atone for her failures, without further desecrating Subaru's memory.
Her gaze fell upon her long silver hair, now torn and uneven, a stark reminder of Rem's furious assault. She gritted her teeth, the memory of Subaru's gentle praises echoing in her mind. "No," she whispered, her voice laced with self-disgust, "I don't deserve your praises." With a surge of icy magic, she formed a sharp blade, and with a swift, brutal motion, she sheared off her hair, leaving it ragged and short, ending at her neck. She looked at her reflection, then touched the jagged scar on her face, reveling in the sharp, burning pain. The destruction of her own beauty, she believed, was the only way she could truly repent, the only purpose left for her existence: to atone for what she had done to Subaru.
Meanwhile at the Karsten Manor
The atmosphere within the manor was thick with a palpable tension. Julius's condition deteriorated steadily, his mental state fraying at the edges. At times, he even voiced his desire to end his own life. Reinhard, witnessing Julius's descent into despair, felt a growing sense of helplessness. He recognized the pattern, the chilling realization that the longer he remained, the more he risked being manipulated by fate, transformed into an unbreakable machine doll he dreaded. It was as if a curse clung to him, a malevolent force that tainted those who drew near, subjecting them to similar suffering.
But he was trapped. With the maids and staff all regaining their memories, none were willing to knowingly help them. Passively, they harbored resentment towards Felix and Julius. Some, driven by fear, kept their distance, while others, charmed by Subaru and holding him in high regard, were now deeply suspicious of those who had wronged him.
Crusch stood beneath the pale moonlight, her gaze fixed on the vast expanse of the night sky, a silent prayer that they wouldn't lose another ally.
"Not a single life will be lost in my presence," Crusch declared, her voice firm and resolute, as she directed her staff to assist Felix and the healers.
Inside, Felix trembled, his nails digging into his palms. He was consumed by fear, paralyzed by the weight of his actions, unsure of what to do next. His mind, overwhelmed, struggled to process the situation, resorting to desperate mental gymnastics to avoid facing the truth. Whenever the reality of his predicament threatened to surface, his breath hitched, his chest tightened, and he felt a wave of nausea. He knew, deep down, that he had set off a chain of events that could have catastrophic consequences. Though a part of him still clung to the justification that he had acted in Crusch's best interest, he knew it was nothing more than a flimsy excuse.
"Fe..."
"F...is..."
"Ferris."
Felix snapped out of his trance of guilt, his eyes focusing on Crusch, who was shaking him gently. "There is no time to waste," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "Whatever has happened cannot be changed, but that's no excuse to just sit back and repent."
"If you truly feel that guilty, then show me," Crusch commanded, her voice laced with an unexpected warmth. It wasn't the cold, authoritative tone he was accustomed to. There was a hint of rage, a tremor of emotion, and her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, threatened to overflow at any moment. It was clear she never expected to have this conversation, that she desperately wanted to avoid it, to run away from the painful reality. But her unwavering sense of duty, her unyielding moral compass, wouldn't allow it.
The experience of losing her memories had granted Crusch a newfound perspective. After listening to Reinhard and Felix recount the events, she quickly deduced that Gluttony was the culprit. She bit her lip in frustration. They had believed they were striking back at the Witch Cult, but they were merely pawns in a game, being eliminated one by one. "I wonder how Natsuki Subaru must have felt?" she murmured, her voice laced with a deep sadness.
"Did he hate us, cursing us in his final moments?" she continued, her gaze fixed on the vast, indifferent expanse of the night sky.
"No," a voice, thick with a regret that seemed to weigh down the very air, interrupted her thoughts. Wilhelm stood behind her, a figure etched in exhaustion and sorrow. Even in the dim moonlight, the sheen of sweat that coated his brow and temples was visible, a testament to the inner turmoil that wracked him. He dared not approach, maintaining a respectful distance, as if afraid his presence alone would further tarnish the solemnity of the moment.
"...Wilhelm-san," Crusch said, turning slowly, her voice a hushed whisper. The sight of him was a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. The once impeccably groomed old butler, a symbol of unwavering loyalty and quiet strength, now stood disheveled, his crisp uniform clinging damply to his frame. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his face, his usually meticulous ponytail had come undone, strands of white hair clinging to his skin, framing a face etched with weariness and deep-seated remorse. The image of the composed and dignified butler was replaced by a man broken by loss, a man burdened by the weight of his own perceived failings.
"The Subaru-sama I know," Wilhelm began, his voice raspy with emotion, "he would still smile, even in his death. Those eyes... when I first witnessed them, I realized that boy had faced death's door many times in his life." His eyes grew stern, a flicker of understanding mixed with sorrow. A gust of wind swept through the garden, rustling Crusch's hair. Normally, the cold breeze would have brought a sense of solemn peace, but this time, for some unknown reason, Crusch found tears streaming down her face, A sudden, crushing sensation gripped her chest, and her hand instinctively moved, pressing firmly against the spot as if to hold her heart together. Her expression remained unchanged, a stoic mask concealing the turmoil within.
"Crusch-sama, please excuse the display of rudeness from earlier," Wilhelm said, his voice laced with self-reproach. "It appears this old man still has no control over his emotions." He bowed deeply, then turned and walked to the other side of the garden, resuming his sword practice.
"Was it necessary at this time? No. Then why?" Even he questioned his actions, but for some reason, the rhythmic movements brought a semblance of calm, a control over his fractured mind. "Theresia," he whispered, his voice thick with tears, "I really shouldn't have taken the sword from you. This is a punishment for going against Od." Tears streamed down his face as the sword flashed under the bright moonlight.
A magnificent dance unfolded, a dance of swords, an iconic display from the Sword Demon. But this was no mere exhibition of skill. It was a dance that screamed RAGE, GUILT, GRIEF, and LOSS.
Footsteps echoed in the silent hallway near the garden. Wilhelm, his senses sharpened by years of training, registered the presence instantly. With a swift, fluid movement, he positioned himself beside Crusch, ready to protect her. They both braced for a confrontation, but to their surprise, a petite woman with blue-green eyes and long, wavy purple hair that cascaded to her hips rushed past them. She wore a long white dress, accentuated by a fur hat and scarf, and her hurried passage left a faint, lingering scent of lavender.
Crusch, surprised by the woman's sudden appearance and hurried departure, rushed after her.
Inside, Felix concentrated every remaining ounce of mana to heal Julius. Julius's spirits swirled around him like anxious pets, their worry palpable. "I won't let you die so easily!" Felix screamed, gritting his teeth, his adrenaline surging.
Julius finally managed to open his eyes. "Patient's state has been brought under control!" a healer announced, a relieved smile spreading across their face. A flicker of hope ignited within Felix; it was a small victory, a needle in a haystack, and the other healers rejoiced.
Then, Felix noticed Julius's lips moving. Curiosity piqued, he leaned closer, his senses dulled by exhaustion. Otherwise, he would have easily heard Julius's words. He moved closer and closer.
"Ple..."
"Please ju..."
"Please just... kill me."
Felix went pale, the last vestiges of hope draining from his eyes. The single thread that had held his composure together snapped, like a dam bursting, unleashing a flood of raw emotion.
With a surge of strength, Felix yanked Julius up by his collar, his breath ragged and animalistic. "DO YOU VALUE LIFE THIS LITTLE?!" he screamed, his voice a raw, broken roar. The other healers panicked, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. The maids and staff, witnessing the outburst, felt their fears about Felix confirmed.
BAM*
The door to the room swung open, revealing the purple-haired woman, Anastasia, her eyes wide with shock. In an instant, her gaze hardened, fixing on Felix with a chilling intensity. Without hesitation, she raised her finger, pointing directly at him. The mana in the room seemed to be sucked into her fingertip, coalescing into a charged, ready-to-fire attack. She was about to unleash the devastating blow when Crusch grasped her arm, snapping her out of her focused rage. "Wait, Anastasia-san!" she exclaimed.
Anastasia whirled around, her expression a mask of fury. With a swift, fierce motion, she slapped Crusch across the face. The force of the blow sent a sharp sting through Crusch's cheek. Yet, she stood her ground, her expression remaining stoic, her gaze unwavering as she met Anastasia's burning glare.
Felix's blood ran cold at the sight of Crusch being struck. He was about to leap to her defense, but Wilhelm, with a swift, decisive move, tackled him to the ground. Reinhard followed, his gaze fixed on Felix, a look of profound disappointment etched on his face. Felix, pinned beneath Wilhelm's weight, finally accepted the inevitable: he was doomed.
"Milady," Julius whispered, his voice weak and broken. Anastasia rushed to his bedside, her expression softening with concern. "Enough, Julius," she said, her voice trembling. "It's alright. Please, just rest for now." She fought back tears, her hands gently cradling his, seeking to soothe his distress.
Crusch walked slowly towards Felix, her footsteps echoing softly in the tense silence. "Wilhelm-san, please let him go," she said, her voice low and even.
"But, Lady Crusch—" Wilhelm began, his voice laced with concern.
"Please," Crusch interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. Wilhelm, acutely aware of her emotional state, noticed the weariness in her expression, the subtle lines of strain that spoke of deep-seated sorrow. He was adept at reading people's emotions, and what he saw in her eyes was not anger or uncertainty, but a profound, heart-wrenching pity. He relented, not out of fear or doubt, but out of a deep-seated desire to spare her the burden of further distress. He couldn't bear to see such profound sadness etched on his lady's face. He released Felix, stepping back with a silent bow.
"Stand up," Crusch ordered, her voice cutting through the tense silence, a commanding roar that filled the room.
Felix, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and uncertainty, obeyed. Crusch's expression was unreadable, a mask of cold authority that he had never witnessed before. "Maybe he truly was ignorant of what his lady actually wanted," the thought sank into his mind, profound and deeply unsettling.
"Felix Argyle," Crusch began, her voice resonating with formal pronouncement, "I, Crusch Karsten, the Lady of this Manor, declare that you are hereby relieved of your position as a knight, and shall leave these premises immediately."
"That's it? You think this is acceptable?" Anastasia yelled, her voice laced with incredulity. "After what he did! After what he has reduced my knight to!" She glared at Crusch, incensed by what she perceived as a lenient punishment. Reinhard, caught in the crossfire, felt a profound sense of helplessness. He stood frozen, realizing how utterly insignificant he felt as a human being in the face of such raw emotion.
Wilhelm, his gaze fixed on Anastasia, gave a slight, almost imperceptible glare. "The irony," he thought to himself, a wave of disgust washing over him. The very person whose knight had so ruthlessly undermined Subaru's confidence and mocked his loyalty now dared to speak of knights and their honor.
Anastasia's expression shifted, a glint of steel entering her eyes as she fixed a sharp glare on Crusch. "You truly are not fit for the title of Lady of the Karsten household. Your empathy for criminals is unnerving, to say the least," she sneered.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK SUCH ABOUT MY LADY!" Felix roared, his voice thick with rage, his fists clenched tightly as he glared at Anastasia.
"Ah, by any chance, may I have stepped on the poor kitty cat's tail?" Anastasia chuckled, a smug aura radiating from her.
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO SHE IS? THE CRUSCH KARSTEN, THE STRONG-MINDED, BRAVE, AND—"
SLAP*
Crusch's hand struck Felix's cheek, the sharp crack echoing through the room. The contrast of her pale hand against his skin highlighted the force of the blow. Felix stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. "Uh?" he stammered, completely taken aback. He had braced himself for arrest, for banishment, but this was an entirely unexpected turn of events.
Wilhelm lowered his gaze, his expression a mask of grim acceptance. He had anticipated this, yet he had chosen not to intervene, partly due to his lingering resentment towards Felix, and partly because he understood his own limitations. A conflict between two royal candidates was far beyond his ability to influence.
"No master would keep a pet that bites their own master," Anastasia purred, her voice laced with a venomous sweetness, deliberately fueling the flames of the conflict. A pleased, almost predatory look gleamed in her eyes, betraying her true intention: to provoke Felix, to lure him into a trap of his own making.
"Felix," Crusch stated, her tone flat, "your service as my knight is terminated. You have forfeited any right to speak as my representative."
"Crusch-sama... please, no... that was never my aim," Felix stammered, his voice laced with desperation.
"Silence!" Crusch's voice resonated, silencing all present. "Wilhelm, escort him from the manor immediately. Destroy any vestige of his presence that connects him to the Karsten lineage." A chilling gaze settled on Felix, and after a brief pause, she added, "I... I regret ever indulging your misguided beliefs." With that, she turned and departed, her back rigid, concealing any hint of emotion. Letting go of her cherished childhood companion was a painful necessity, but it paled in comparison to the gravity of his actions. In that moment of intense emotion, Crusch felt her carefully constructed world, her lifelong legacy, begin to disintegrate, much like a sandcastle succumbing to the relentless tide.
Wilhelm stood, his hand gripping the door handle. Crusch's words, cold and final, still echoed in his mind. He hesitated, a flicker of unease passing through him. The hallway beyond seemed unusually still, the soft glow of the wall sconces casting long, distorted shadows. He inhaled, a faint, metallic scent pricking his nostrils—something out of place.
Just as he began to turn the handle, a subtle shift in the air caught his attention. A barely audible rustle, a suppressed breath, a sense of an unseen presence. His instincts flared. With a swift, almost silent movement, he shoved Crusch behind him, drawing his sword in a fluid motion.
"Crusch-sama, stand back!" he barked, his voice low and urgent.
In a fluid motion, he drew his blade, the steel glinting in the dim light. A guttural cry ripped through the silence, "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" and his sword sliced through the heavy wooden door, splintering it into two ragged halves. The force of the blow sent the remnants of the door flying, kicking the figure standing behind it. Dust billowed, momentarily obscuring the scene.
As the dust settled, two hooded figures stood in the hallway, their faces concealed in shadow. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood. Behind them, the bodies of the maid staff and others lay sprawled across the floor, their forms contorted and still.
Crusch's breath hitched, a wave of cold dread washing over her. "No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes, usually filled with composure, now burned with a fierce, unbridled rage. "How... how dare you!"
With a roar, she charged forward, her own sword drawn and gleaming. Wilhelm followed close behind, his movements precise and deadly. Their blades clashed against those of the intruders, the sound a sharp, discordant symphony of steel. Each parry and thrust was a release of their pent-up anger and grief, a violent dance of vengeance.
Meanwhile, Reinhard instinctively stepped closer to Anastasia and Julius, his hand resting lightly on his own sword hilt. "Lady Anastasia, this area is no longer secure. Please, allow me to escort you to safety."
Before Anastasia could respond, another hooded figure emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and silent. They held Felix, his face contorted in a mask of rage, a knife pressed against his throat.
"Don't move!" the figure hissed, their voice a low, menacing growl. Felix gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"Hand over that knight to us," the figure demanded. Felix, with a sudden surge of defiance, attempted to bite the hand holding him, but the figure was too quick. He retaliated with a brutal knee strike to Felix's groin, causing his legs to buckle. Before Felix could recover, the figure slammed the hilt of his knife against his face, causing his eye to swell shut. He then yanked Felix up by his hair, holding him aloft like a grotesque trophy.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE! FIGHT LIKE A TRUE WARRIOR, IF YOU HAVE THE GUTS!" Reinhard roared, his veins bulging with fury.
"Mr. Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea," the figure sneered, "do you truly believe I would be so foolish as to face a monster disguised as a human? I am, however, intrigued to discover you possess such... emotions. Perhaps it fuels your capacity to slaughter even more innocent lives." The figure's voice dripped with calculated malice, his words a weapon designed to inflict psychological damage. What could not be defeated physically, he reasoned, could be broken mentally.
"Reinhard," Anastasia gestured him closer, her voice low and urgent. "I will take Julius and the healers out of here. You handle them."
"No, Milady..." Julius protested, his voice filled with concern.
"Julius," Anastasia said, holding him tightly, "there's no other option left for us. Your safety is paramount."
"And especially," she continued, her gaze hardening as she glared at the hooded figure, "their demand for you seems very suspicious to me." Anastasia tightly clutched her scarf, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, a smug smile played across her lips, her expression utterly foreign to her own knight. It was as if she were possessed by something, or someone, else.
A voice echoed in her mind: "Eridna, please... I will grant you any wish..."