...
{3rd Pov}
Meanwhile, in the aftermath of the devastating events that had shaken the Kingdom of Lugunica to its core, Emilia had unknowingly emerged as a symbol of hope.
With the confirmed defeat of yet another Sin Archbishop at her hands and her critical role in stopping the blazing infernos that had engulfed large sections of the capital, the people had begun to revere her not just as a royal candidate, but as a savior.
She was no longer just the "half-elf" candidate—no longer merely one of the contenders chosen by the Divine Dragon. She had become a hero in the eyes of the citizens.
In the streets, people whispered her name with admiration.
Survivors recounted tales of her appearing amid chaos, using her ice magic to quell fires or protect innocents, and selflessly healing the wounded with her magic, day and night.
Word of mouth spread quickly, and within a matter of days, the general sentiment had shifted.
With no other viable royal candidates left—Anastasia confirmed dead, Priscilla missing, and Felt presumed killed—Emilia was, effectively, the last woman standing.
And unlike before, she was not seen as a candidate by default, but as the rightful Queen-to-be. Her popularity had soared; even some of her previous detractors in the nobility were beginning to reconsider their positions, recognizing that the public's favor now firmly rested with her.
At present, Emilia was residing in the Royal Castle, having been invited by the Council for her safety and visibility.
But she was not one to sit on a throne and wait for others to act. Day after day, she worked tirelessly to help however she could.
She personally assisted the castle's medical units, using her mana to heal those injured in the fires or from falling debris.
She coordinated with the Royal Guards, helping restore order in refugee zones, offering calm leadership wherever chaos threatened to resurface.
Despite the mounting pressure and the weight of public expectation, she remained humble and focused, her heart set on doing whatever was right for the people.
However, even in the midst of her success and the praise being lavished upon her, something within Emilia felt… off.
Though no one had told her anything directly, she couldn't shake the growing unease in her chest. Reinhardt had not been seen since the night of the attack.
She hadn't spoken to him, hadn't even glimpsed him during the battles, and that—more than anything—bothered her.
She remembered vividly the towering pillars of light that had pierced the skies that night, magic so intense it could be felt across the capital.
That kind of magic could only have come from someone like Reinhardt… or from something far worse.
Still, no one had mentioned anything about him, and every time she brought it up to guards or attendants, they would quickly change the subject or assure her he was "handling matters elsewhere."
Her instincts, however, told her otherwise.
It was just as she finished tending to another batch of injured civilians inside the castle's grand infirmary hall that something strange happened.
Without warning, a shimmering door materialized in the center of the castle corridor—a dimensional portal that immediately drew the attention of everyone nearby.
The guards reached for their weapons, startled and ready to strike, until a familiar figure stepped through the magical threshold.
"Beatrice?" Puck was the first to react, flying quickly over to her with a surprised expression on his face. "You… you're here? You managed to open a Door Crossing this far from the Mathers Mansion?"
Beatrice, standing small but resolute, crossed her arms and gave a sharp huff.
"Obviously, I'm here, in fact," she said, her tone laced with urgency. "I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of establishing such a long-distance Door Crossing if it wasn't for something critical."
Emilia blinked in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Spirit. She had known Beatrice could move through her own created doors, but being able to reach the Royal Capital from Roswaal's mansion was something she hadn't expected.
"Beatrice, what's going on?" Emilia asked, stepping forward as she wiped her hands, still stained with healing mana from her previous work. "Is something wrong? Did something happen back at the mansion?"
"There's no time to explain it all here, in fact," Beatrice said, tapping her foot impatiently. "Puck. Emilia. You both need to come with me immediately. We must return to Roswaal's mansion. There is a matter that could affect not only Roswaal, not only the mansion—but the entire Kingdom!"
Puck narrowed his eyes. He could sense the seriousness in her mana signature. This wasn't just a dramatic exaggeration; she was genuinely alarmed.
Emilia, on the other hand, looked torn.
She turned slightly and glanced behind her.
Several of the wounded were still lying on the cots, some groaning in pain, others asleep from exhaustion.
She had been helping them non-stop for the last few days, and she still hadn't gotten around to checking the outer wards of the castle.
She was needed here. People were depending on her.
"Can I come later?" she asked, her voice calm but hesitant. "There are still people who need my help. I'm the only healer on duty for this wing of the castle. I can't just leave them like this."
Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "Hmph! If you want to stay, that's your decision, I suppose. But don't come crying to me later if things spiral out of control! This is urgent! It's not about some noble's squabble or minor political nonsense! What I'm talking about could shake the foundations of the Kingdom! It may already be too late!"
Her words struck like a lightning bolt.
Both Puck and Emilia stared at her. Even the nearby guards and castle staff froze at the sudden escalation in her tone.
Emilia hesitated only a moment longer before nodding.
"…Alright. I understand," she said with a deep breath, her gaze firming. "I'll come with you. Please wait a moment while I inform someone to take over my station."
She quickly relayed instructions to the nearby medical staff, made sure they had the necessary supplies, and then turned back to Beatrice.
"Let's go."
The portal pulsed once more as the three of them—Emilia, Puck, and Beatrice—stepped through the Door Crossing, vanishing from the Royal Castle.
None of them could have guessed what awaited them on the other side.
Emilia, Puck, and Ram stood in the quiet outer corridor just outside the entrance to Beatrice's library.
Oddly enough, Beatrice had not connected her Door Crossing to the interior of her usual study, but rather to a secluded area on the mansion grounds, directly adjacent to the library's external entry point.
It was a small detail, but one that suggested the Spirit was intentionally distancing the portal from whatever—or whoever—was inside.
The atmosphere was tense, and the air felt strangely heavy, as if it were charged with unspoken emotions.
Ram was the first to speak—or rather, to act. As soon as they arrived, she bowed low before Emilia, her movements stiff and weary.
Her expression was difficult to read, but there was a profound hollowness in her eyes that spoke volumes.
"I greet you, Lady Emilia," she said, voice strained and dry, as if the simple act of speaking took tremendous effort. There was no formality behind her words anymore—just the mechanical remnants of discipline and duty.
Emilia instinctively stepped forward, her heart clenching at the sight of her. Ram looked utterly defeated, as if her very soul had been drained. There were dark circles under her eyes, her posture was slouched, and even her once razor-sharp tone had dulled into something quiet and broken.
"R-Ram… how are you?" Emilia asked softly, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to say something that might accidentally hurt her further. In truth, she already suspected the answer—but she needed to ask anyway. She owed her that much.
Ram raised her head and gave a faint, sad smile. It was the kind of smile people wore when they were trying to be polite but had no real emotion left to give.
"I've brought Lord Roswaal's body back," she said flatly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Now… I have to begin preparing for his burial."
Her words landed like a hammer blow. Puck floated silently beside Emilia, his face solemn, and Emilia's breath hitched for a moment. She had known Roswaal was dead.
Her heart ached—not in the same deep, personal way Ram must have been feeling it—but there was a weight to the loss.
Roswaal had been many things: manipulative, untrustworthy, brilliant, and broken.
But he had still been someone important in their lives.
Looking at Ram now, Emilia felt an overwhelming sense of empathy. She saw a reflection of her own pain—of losing her family, of bearing responsibility alone.
But for Ram, this might have been the final straw. Her sister, Rem, remained lost to the world, her body comatose and her existence forgotten by all except a few.
Now, Roswaal was gone too. And with no more attachments left to this world, it was all too easy to imagine what Ram might be considering.
Was this her final task? Bury the last person she cared about, and then follow after them into death?
Emilia didn't want to believe it, but the lifeless look in Ram's eyes made her stomach churn.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Ram," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "I really am."
Ram didn't respond. She simply gave a tiny nod, as if acknowledging the sentiment but not knowing what to do with it.
Trying to lighten the atmosphere—or perhaps just desperate to shift the mood—Puck floated closer and asked, "So… can you tell us what this is about? Why did Beatrice call us here all of a sudden?"
Ram didn't change her expression. Her tone remained blunt, almost robotic.
"I don't know," she replied. "Lady Beatrice summoned me first, and then a few minutes later, she told me to wait here for the two of you. She didn't explain anything further."
Puck and Emilia exchanged a look, both of them increasingly unsettled.
Emilia's nerves were already frayed from the anxiety she'd carried all week, and now this strange summoning without context was only making it worse.
She had no idea what Beatrice was about to show them, but something inside her said that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.
Just then, the door to the library creaked open.
Beatrice stepped out slowly, her small frame framed by the dim golden glow of her sanctuary. She didn't say anything at first, simply looking at the three of them in silence.
Her expression was conflicted—part guarded, part uncertain.
That alone was enough to set everyone on edge. Beatrice was rarely shaken. And yet, something was clearly bothering her.
"There's something I need you all to see," she finally said, her voice more serious than usual. "But before you enter, I have to warn you. I need you to remain calm. Do not react emotionally. Do not act rashly. And above all—do not be hostile."
"Hostile to who?" Emilia asked with a furrowed brow.
"Guests," Beatrice replied vaguely. "Important ones. They've been waiting for you, and they asked to meet you specifically."
Emilia and Puck shared another uneasy glance, while Ram's lips tightened into a thin line. None of them understood what kind of guests would prompt this level of caution from Beatrice, but they trusted her enough to listen—at least for now.
They entered the library together, the thick wooden door closing quietly behind them. The moment Emilia stepped inside, her eyes widened, and her heart nearly stopped.
Standing just a few feet away from them, relaxed and completely at ease, was a figure she had killed.
Ram stumbled backward, trembling visibly. Her body shook with disbelief, and for a moment, she seemed unable to breathe.
Puck reacted instantly, eyes narrowed and hands raised. A dozen ice spears appeared midair, hovering in a deadly halo around him. They were locked and ready to launch, aimed directly at the man who should have been dead.
Natsuki Subaru.
Or at least, someone who looked exactly like him.
There was no denying it. Same face, same hair, same voice. But the Subaru standing before them now exuded a presence that was utterly alien to the one Emilia had known.
Before anyone could speak, a massive pressure swept through the room like a shockwave. The air itself seemed to ripple. Even Puck, one of the Four Great Spirits, found himself struggling to maintain composure under the sheer force of it.
A second figure stepped forward.
"Mongrels," she muttered, her voice filled with aristocratic disdain. It was Gloria. Her elegant attire and noble demeanor contrasted with her biting words.
"Is that how you greet guests in this world?" She glanced at Puck, her eyes cold. "You'd better put those ice toys away, spirit, before you enrage this concubine further."
"Puck! Stop!" Beatrice barked. "I told you not to be hostile!"
Puck hesitated, his eyes still locked on the figure before him.
Emilia, though her knees were shaking, stepped forward.
"Puck, it's alright," she said quietly. "Please stand down."
Puck looked at her with hesitation, but after a long second, he gave a reluctant nod. The ice spears dissolved into mist.
The girl—Gloria—rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you people are so jumpy. I get it, my father's other self caused some chaos, but still—this is just rude."
She stepped aside with a slight smirk.
"Come on, Dad. You're up."
And there he was.
The man who had thrown the entire Kingdom into chaos.
The man who had been publicly declared dead.
The man whose body was still preserved in a secret chamber beneath the Royal Castle.
Yet here he stood—alive, breathing, and confident.
Natsuki Subaru.
"Guess it's time for introductions," he said, cracking his neck and raising a single finger into the air with a dramatic flair.
"I am the Great Sage—Natsuki Subaru!"
To be continued...
(A/N: Just started a new Arc, and man I am pretty sure it is going to be fire. If you want to read it in advance you can join the patreon! You can get upto 35 advance chaps of this fic!)