Note:
It's a bit late but I made a mistake when writing the wrath if part, I wasn't aware of the exact death count, I thought Subaru died over 10000 times but it turns out that he only died 500 times.
Obviously, I find that the latter is better so you might from now on, keep this new update in mind.
So in wrath if, the vision ends after two years from the start of the main story and counting the 500 deaths, assuming that after every death, the reset will vary from half a day, a day to three days. So let's the vision lasted between 3-5 years.
In sloth if, there were no deaths and he watched that future in a different way, but he still spectated for around a decade.
Combining both visions of sloth if and wrath if, it shall add 12-15 years to his mental age, which still sucks.
But this serves better for the story, it would make more sense as to how he can endure the suffering he's dealing with right now.
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Onis were a dwindling race.
Stories whispered of their kind of a hidden village tucked away from the world, where the last remnants of their bloodline struggled to survive, clinging to pride and tradition as everything around them faded.
But that was never her story.
When she was born, there was no village.
No clan.
No legacy waiting for her.
Only a mother… and then, not even that.
By the time she could truly understand the world, she was already alone.
-------------
The place she eventually found herself in could hardly be called a home.
It was a settlement of strays.
A gathering of the unwanted—demi-humans burdened by their lineage, criminals cast out from human society, people who had nowhere else to go. It was not a place of kindness, nor of order. Survival came first, and everything else followed far behind.
And yet...
She was not rejected.
As an Oni, her very existence carried a weight others could not ignore. Strength, pride, and the faint echo of a once-feared race clung to her presence. That alone earned her a place among them.
She was allowed to stay.
To live.
-------------
Life there was… confusing.
She had only ever known her mother. No crowds, no noise, no conflicting emotions from dozens of strangers brushing against her senses. Every interaction felt foreign, every word layered with meanings she didn't yet understand.
The villagers were not good people.
But they were not heartless either.
Each of them carried something broken inside, regret, anger, loss. They did not go out of their way to comfort her, but neither did they push her away. In their own quiet, distant manner… they accepted her.
And so, she survived.
Because she was lucky.
…Wasn't she?
-------------
Or perhaps...
It was the opposite.
Perhaps she survived because luck had abandoned everyone else.
After all, she was the only one left.
-------------
Grief did not linger.
Not for long.
It dulled, faded, dissolved into something quieter.
But resentment...
Resentment took root.
And unlike grief, it did not fade.
It did not weaken.
It grew.
-------------
Revenge.
At first, it was just a feeling.
A burning, shapeless anger that refused to be extinguished.
But over time, it became something else.
Something heavier.
A duty.
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She remembered the scorched remains of what little she had once called home. The smell of ash. The silence that followed the screams.
Standing before that ruin, she made a vow.
Not as a child.
Not as a victim.
An avenger.
-------------
It was an impossible oath.
Even she knew that.
The Witch Cult was not an enemy one could simply hunt down. They were scattered, hidden across the world like a disease woven into its veins. Despite the bounties placed on their heads, despite the fear and hatred they inspired, there were almost no records of them being truly defeated.
Only fragments of stories.
A madman named Stride Vollachia who brought destruction upon himself decades ago.
A rumor of a novice knight who had slain the Sin Archbishop of Sloth recently.
Rare exceptions.
Miracles, even.
And even if she found them...
What then?
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She was an Oni.
A being far stronger than the average human. Faster, more resilient, born with a natural affinity for combat.
But Sin Archbishops were something else entirely.
Monsters wearing human skin.
She had heard the stories.
Of Greed, who reduced the entire city Garkla to nothing by himself.
Of powers that defied reason.
Of deaths that came without warning, without meaning.
-------------
If she faced them...
She would die.
Instantly.
Effortlessly.
She did not fear death.
Not anymore.
But she feared something worse.
A meaningless death.
A death that accomplished nothing.
A death that left her oath unfulfilled.
-------------
"…Finally."
She had been holding for years.
"Twelve long years…"
Her fingers curled slightly.
"Reize… this might be our chance."
Perhaps...
She had been lucky.
Years passed in Kararagi.
She lived quietly, on the fringes of society, never allowing herself to grow close to anyone. Isolation had become second nature. Trust was a luxury she could not afford.
And then she met him.
Another Oni.
A survivor.
Something she had long since believed no longer existed.
His name was Abaris.
He told her he had fled the village the same day she did.
But unlike her...
He had lost everything.
Both horns, severed.
The source of an Oni's strength.
The symbol of their identity.
Gone.
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His body, he explained, no longer functioned.
A hollow shell.
Barely alive.
But he had not completely disappeared.
Through the Divine Protection he was born with, he could project himself, an astral existence untethered by flesh. He could move, observe, speak…
…but never touch.
Never act.
And yet...
His will remained unbroken.
"We have to avenge them."
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
A shared understanding.
A shared hatred.
At first, she thought it was her desire.
Her revenge.
Her purpose.
But that was wrong.
It was theirs.
No....
It was something even greater than that.
A duty.
The only reason they were still alive.
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"To crush the Witch Cult… we need power."
Even in his broken state, Abaris never wavered.
Never hesitated.
Never allowed despair to take hold.
And that...
More than anything...
Made her feel ashamed.
Because somewhere along the way…
She had begun to accept her own weakness.
To accept the impossibility of her oath.
But seeing him and hearing his resolve
Reminded her of what she had sworn.
Of what she should be.
Of what she was supposed to be.
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The next step led her to a place most would never willingly approach.
Zarestia's bed.
It began as a simple request posted among mercenaries and drifters. A group was to investigate unusual activity near a mountain range long abandoned by traders and travelers alike.
Few needed the explanation.
Everyone already knew what lay there.
The resting place of the Great Spirit of Wind.
Zarestia.
The mission parameters were clear.
Observe.
Report.
Do not, under any circumstances, enter.
To do so was suicide.
Reize joined anyway.
Not for the mission.
Not for the reward.
But for what lay beyond it.
She moved with the group at first, blending in, saying little. Listening. Watching.
Waiting.
Until the moment came...
And she slipped away without a word.
Next week, the Great Spirit will enter her magic release period.
Abaris's voice echoed in her mind.
Her power will be unstable. Dangerous… but unfocused.
A window like that will never come again.
So she went.
Alone.
The mountain did not welcome her.
The wind howled like a living thing, violent and relentless. It tore through the narrow paths, shrieking against the jagged rock as if warning her to turn back.
Several times, it nearly threw her off the cliffside.
Her feet slid.
Her body lifted.
Only instinct, and stubborn resolve kept her from being swallowed by the abyss below.
Each step forward felt stolen.
Each breath, a struggle.
But she did not stop.
By the time she reached the cave, her body ached, her clothes torn at the edges by the merciless wind.
And yet, the moment she stepped inside...
Everything… stilled.
Silence.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
At the heart of the cavern, she saw her.
A woman lay resting, as if untouched by the chaos outside.
Short, pale milky hair spilled around her like silk, unmoving in the still air. Her breathing was soft, steady, almost human.
Almost.
Because the mana surrounding her told a different story.
It churned and pulsed, thick enough to suffocate, spiraling around her body in visible currents.
Zarestia.
Even asleep, she was overwhelming.
And beside her was the sphere.
A soft, radiant glow illuminated the cavern.
The light orb.
It hovered low, or perhaps simply rested, its presence difficult to define, as if it existed slightly out of sync with the world itself.
Power radiated from it, like an ocean with no shore.
That is the key.
Abaris's voice returned, quieter this time.
With that… we can obtain the power to destroy them.
Reize stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, louder with each inch she closed the distance.
Zarestia did not stir.
Her hand reached out.
Hesitated...
For the briefest moment.
Then, she grabbed it.
Power.
It surged into her instantly.
Like something alive forcing its way into her veins.
Her body tensed.
Her breath caught.
The world felt… different.
Sharper.
Heavier.
As if everything around her had suddenly become smaller.
She did not look back.
She did not wait.
She left.
She never returned to the expedition.
They likely assumed she had died.
It wasn't until later...
Standing alone before a mirror...
That she noticed.
Her reflection… wasn't hers.
The girl staring back at her had pale milky hair.
Sharp features.
Golden eyes that carried an inhuman depth.
Zarestia.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Reize's grip tightened around the sphere.
Slowly...
She hid it away.
Something like this couldn't be exposed.
Time passed.
And the world moved.
While she was gone, the Witch Cult struck.
The Water Gate City, Pristella, fell into chaos.
News spread like wildfire, each retelling more distorted than the last.
The Sin Archbishop of Greed...
Dead.
The Sin Archbishop of Wrath...
Captured.
And then..
Pride.
Not rumor, Not speculation.
Fact.
A bounty was issued.
A name once thought buried in history resurfaced.
Stride Vollachia.
A man believed to have died forty years ago.
Alive.
If someone like that could return—
What guarantee was there that any victory was real?
Reize's jaw tightened.
Even now...
She could do nothing.
Lust.
Gluttony.
Pride.
All escaped Pristella without any consequences.
Wrath remained alive...
But imprisoned under the watch of the Sword Saint in the capital of Lugunica.
Too far for her to reach.
Even with her new attained power, it wasn't possible for her to reach her.
Frustration simmered beneath her skin.
Helplessness clawed at her thoughts.
And then...
Two weeks later...
The Divine Dragon Church was destroyed.
At first, she paid it no mind.
Kararagi was no stranger to chaos. Incidents came and went, rumors flared and died just as quickly.
The event was somewhat strange but not enough to draw her attention away from her own purpose.
Not until he spoke.
Abaris's voice echoed quietly in her mind.
"That masked man… is Stride Vollachia."
She stilled.
A name that had resurfaced alongside the catastrophe in Pristella.
And now...
He was here.
It made sense.
His arrival lined up perfectly with the chain of disasters. Pristella. The church. A trail of destruction that followed him like a shadow.
And yet...
Something felt wrong.
She couldn't smell it.
The miasma.
That unmistakable, suffocating stench that clung to members of the Witch Cult like rot to a corpse.
It wasn't there.
It didn't sit right.
She asked around, quietly, carefully.
The answers she received only deepened her unease.
The man claimed to be a victim of Gluttony.
A survivor.
Someone who had lost his name, his past.
The mask, they said, hid the scars he had received during the battle in Pristella.
This made him even more suspicious and supported Abaris's claim even further, but...
But it still didn't sit right.
Every time she saw him, he was never alone.
A Lugunican knight shadowed him constantly, never too far, never too relaxed. Watching. Guarding.
And then...
There was her.
Zarestia.
The Great Spirit of Wind had left her mountain.
And now, she followed him as well.
That… made no sense.
None at all.
Why would a knight of Lugunica stand beside a Sin Archbishop?
Why would a Great Spirit linger around him?
Her thoughts narrowed.
"They might not be siding with him…"
Abaris's voice returned, smooth and certain.
"…but I heard that Pride possesses an authority that can control others."
She chose to believe him.
Because every path he had guided her down so far had been correct.
Every assumption.
Every step.
They moved him.
Another church.
Hidden.
Guarded.
Watched from all sides.
Getting close wouldn't be easy.
And someone bearing the appearance of Zarestia would never go unnoticed.
But Abaris had already thought of that.
"Don't approach the guards."
"Use the orb."
The light sphere pulsed faintly in her grasp.
A fragment of overwhelming power.
The power of a Great Spirit.
In theory...
She had become one.
Her body dissolved.
Breaking apart into mana, her form unraveling into something weightless, unseen.
The world blurred—
Then reformed.
She stepped forward again.
Inside.
A prison cell.
Cold stone walls.
Dim light.
And him.
The masked man.
Abaris's voice guided her, precise and unwavering, leading her exactly where she needed to be.
"Pretend you're here to help him escape."
The words came easily.
Too easily.
As if they weren't entirely her own.
"Jay… can you hear me?"
The name slipped from her lips without thought.
It was unnatural how natural it felt.
She didn't question it.
"They went to call for backup," she continued. "Tristan is planning to hand you over."
Everything felt… natural.
Too natural.
Like she was following a script she hadn't written.
The man shifted.
Then spoke.
"Zarestia… untie me."
She obeyed.
Without hesitation.
Her hands moved to the cloth covering his face.
Pulled it away.
And then she saw him.
Not a stranger nor a victim.
A face she had seen countless times.
Plastered across wanted posters.
Stride Vollachia.
Her breath caught.
In that instant...
Something inside her snapped.
Rage.
Pure overwhelming rage.
It surged through her veins like fire, drowning out thought, drowning out reason.
The world darkened.
And the last thing she felt...
Before everything disappeared...
Was something taking over her.
__
___
____
"Ol Shamak."
The world of Kazuki Tanaka vanished.
Silence.
A suffocating, endless void.
No sound. No sensation. No self.
Yet...
something moved.
Abaris crouched, his borrowed body folding with unnatural ease as his fingers closed around the black orb that had rolled to a stop near his feet.
Tanaka had prepared for many outcomes.
Endless loops.
Failure after failure.
A stalemate against an immortal enemy.
A slow descent into despair.
But he had overlooked one simple truth.
If Tanaka was bound to return...
Then so was the one who stood against him.
And Abaris understood that.
This was never a battle of strength.
It was a race.
A race to see who would break the cycle first.
This was something even Cepheus couldn't anticipate for a simple reason.
Ol Shamak was a spell only one individual other than himself knew, the witch of greed, Echidna.
"Long time... Long time… a long time…" Abaris muttered, his voice echoing oddly through the ruined chamber. "I came across an interesting man. Wore a helmet. Talked too much."
He tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"I learned this little trick from him."
His crimson eyes dimmed slightly.
"I suppose you can't hear me… can you?"
The black sphere in his hand remained still.
Silent.
Dead.
"I can't hear your thoughts anymore," he added softly. "Good. That means you're asleep."
Ol Shamak.
A spell that severed existence itself, cutting its victim off from reality, burying them in an unreachable void.
No thoughts.
No resistance.
A perfect prison.
A sudden gust tore through the air.
A blade of wind followed...
fast enough to split stone.
Abaris moved before it arrived.
The slash grazed nothing but empty space.
"There you are… you little thief!"
A voice rang out, furious, trembling.
"Give Jay and my light ball back!"
Abaris turned slowly.
Zarestia stood there, her presence unstable, wind spiraling violently around her.
"So you came yourself," Abaris said, almost pleased. "That makes things easier."
Behind her...
Tristan.
Tense. Focused. Ready.
"Zarestia-Sama, stand back!" Tristan warned. "Remember what Stride said!"
His gaze hardened.
"You… what did you do to him?"
Abaris raised the black orb slightly, letting them see it clearly.
"Did?" he echoed, amused. "You make it sound like I harmed him."
Another wind blade came.
He stepped aside lazily.
"Here he is," Abaris continued, almost cheerfully. "Here, here... He's right here... Safe, sleeping soundly, for eternity."
Zarestia snapped and Abaris repeated right after her, "Stop talking like that with my face and that tone, you are making me sick!" "Stop talking like that with my face and that tone, you are making me sick!"
"So it's true…" Tristan murmured. "You can read minds."
Tristan had his doubts, he didn't believe every word Stride told him but his complete surrender made refute his warnings as non-sense.
"True… true…" Abaris nodded. "But not yours."
His eyes flicked toward Tristan.
"Some kind of divine protection, perhaps?"
A pause.
"Unfortunate."
"You'll have to die first."
A flicker of motion above in the ceiling.
Kunai cut through the air.
"A surprise attack?" Abaris sighed.
The blades stopped mid-flight...
then fell uselessly to the ground.
"I can see everything coming, insect."
"Kid! Get people out of here!" Tristan barked.
Too late.
Abaris raised his hand.
Wind answered.
A tornado exploded into existence.
Walls shattered.
The entire structure collapsed outward as Tristan was hurled away—launched like debris into the distance.
Zarestia's body followed...
slamming into the ground, unmoving.
Silence returned.
Broken only by the crackle of destruction.
"I may have overused this vessel," Abaris muttered, flexing his fingers. "But it no longer matters."
He walked toward Zarestia.
Slowly and calmly.
"All that remains…" he whispered, lifting the orb, "is to return this."
Obtaining full Power and ascending to perfection.
"And then…"
His gaze drifted, distant.
"…I'll cast it into the Grand Mogolade Geyser."
A pause.
The dark orb shifted.
Just slightly.
Abaris frowned.
His grip tightened instinctively.
That was his mistake.
The black surface shimmered, then cracked with golden light.
Abaris's eyes widened as he screamed, "—YOU CRAZY BASTARD!"
Weight.
Impossible weight.
The sphere dragged him down...
crushing through the floor.
Then another.
And another.
Wood. Stone. Steel, shattered as his body was forced downward through the building like a falling meteor.
Impact.
Dust exploded outward.
Abaris stared at the orb in disbelief.
Impossible.
He should not be thinking.
He should not be acting.
He should have no say in this world any longer.
Abaris shook his head
He might have interrupted him for a moment but it was a meaningless action. Zarestia was still in the third floor, he could still see her, in a place he could easily rea...
Above...
There was movement.
Abaris's gaze snapped upward.
There...
A red headed child.
Zarestia slung over her shoulder.
He saw it.
Not with his eyes.
With her thoughts.
"YOU FUCKING INSECT!"
His arm swung, wind tearing upward in a violent arc...
Too late.
She vanished into shadow.
Gone.
Abaris stood amidst ruin, chest rising slowly.
The sphere that slipped from his hand turned golden and struck the ground with a heavy, final sound.
He tried to lift it again.
It didn't move.
"…Calm down," he muttered. "Calm down."
Think.
Even now...
He was trapped.
Sealed.
A temporary victory.
Nothing more.
Guarding the sphere here would leave him exposed.
Chasing the insect would waste time.
Him breaking the seal now...
impossible.
"…I return," Abaris decided quietly.
Recover.
Wait.
Then finish it.
"And when I do…"
His gaze lingered on the golden sphere.
"…I'll throw you into the depths where even eternity cannot reach."
Silence settled once more.