The two clones conjured by the true White Whale descended rapidly toward the assembled army below, each one a monstrous echo of the original. Their immense forms cut through the air with terrifying speed, their sheer mass warping the winds around them. Above, unnoticed by most, the real White Whale ascended silently into the heavens. It moved with grim purpose, wings spanning wide enough to blot out the stars themselves. Its destination was unmistakable: the Flugel Tree, ancient and towering in the distance. With every beat of its wings, the sky seemed to bend around it, as though resisting its malignant presence.
In contrast, the clones moved with deceptive grace, gliding across the battlefield with ghostlike silence. Yet with them came a thick, nauseating white mist—creeping, suffocating, inevitable. This was no natural phenomenon. The fog carried with it the dreadful weight of a curse, one that erased not just life but memory. To be caught in its grasp was to vanish from existence, leaving not even grief in one's wake. It was oblivion incarnate.
Subaru's body tensed the moment he saw it. That mist, that sky-swallowing behemoth—he remembered. He remembered everything. Pain. Desperation. Countless resets. The bone-deep horror of being forgotten by everyone he loved. The fear burrowed into his chest and wrapped itself around his lungs, his heartbeat drumming like war drums in his ears. Though this was far from his first encounter with the White Whale, the terror never dulled. It only grew heavier with each return.
His breath caught, then surged out in a panicked exhale. Eyes wide with alarm, Subaru whirled toward the ranks of soldiers behind him. Their armor glinted under the pale moonlight, unaware of the doom approaching. He screamed with everything he had:
"DON'T! DON'T TOUCH THE WHITE MIST! THAT MIST... IT'S NOT JUST DEATH! IT ERASES YOU FROM THIS WORLD! NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOU EXISTED!"
His voice split the night like thunder. Not just a cry—but a warning steeped in lived experience, in truths no one else could know. It wasn't mere volume that carried his voice across the field. It was raw, naked desperation. The kind that infects the air itself. The kind that makes hearts skip.
Soldiers stumbled. Panic rippled through the lines like a disease. Some screamed. Others turned to flee. Many simply stood there, frozen in place, their minds trying and failing to comprehend the weight of Subaru's words. His warning fell on the army like a prophecy of doom.
Amidst the chaos, a steady hand found Subaru's shoulder. Crusch Karsten, her eyes gleaming with steel resolve, met his gaze. Her grip was grounding—firm, but not harsh. "Then... tell us how to fight back," she demanded, voice sharp with urgency, but not panic. It was a plea for guidance wrapped in a command.
Subaru's lips curled into a bitter smirk. The kind of smile that knew hope was thin and yet spoke anyway. "Maybe you were never supposed to fight them," he murmured, his tone both sarcastic and steeped in resignation. "Maybe the real mistake was thinking you could."
He turned his face to the sky once more. A clone had locked onto him and was descending with a feral intent. The other plummeted toward the army's core like a falling star. The white mist crept ever closer, curling around rocks, reaching like fingers.
Teeth clenched, Subaru took a step forward. He could feel the pressure of the moment crushing him, but still he shouted, this time with a raw edge:
"HEY! Hey, you watching! I can't hit them from here! If you've got a plan, now would be the time to share it!"
Without hesitation, as if summoned by the cry, Flugel materialized before him—a phantom given form. There was no dramatic entrance. He simply was, as if he'd always been there. His frosted gaze settled on Subaru.
"Use Overburst," Flugel said calmly. "But don't empty yourself. Control your shots. Treat it like a sniper's bolt, not a cannon blast. Precision, not power. Think."
The words struck Subaru like a jolt. He nodded, snapped his right hand forward, and summoned Duskveil. The dagger responded instantly, shimmering into existence with a hiss of cursed light. It pulsed in his grip like a living thing. They were connected now—soul to blade.
Drawing a long breath, Subaru shut his eyes and reached inward. He found the pathways of mana that ran through his body like veins of liquid fire. With practiced will, he guided that energy toward Duskveil. The weapon drank it eagerly.
[Mana Blade - Active]
Faint luminescence sparked along the blade's edge, an eerie whisper of power. Subaru turned to Crusch again, clarity lighting up his expression.
"Crusch-san! That wind spell—the blade technique you used at the start of the battle. I need you to use it again. Direct it toward the clone coming our way. I'll match you. Let's bring it down before it gets any closer."
The mist inched nearer. The sky darkened further. But Subaru stood ready, a lone spark of defiance against an ocean of white.
Crusch did not hesitate for a single heartbeat. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade, and in a smooth, practiced motion, she raised it high. Her eyes remained shut—not out of fear, but focus. As if she were attuned to a song only she could hear, the melody of the wind itself whispered around her. The air trembled, responding to her will.
At that same moment, Subaru stepped forward. He inhaled deeply, pulling mana into his core like drawing breath from a storm. Then, with purpose, he raised his dagger.
"Watch me..."
With intense concentration, he began to unravel the mana within himself. Strand by strand, he separated and distilled it, refining the essence into something denser, more volatile. The energy pulsed violently in his veins, each beat channeling toward the dagger's tip, which now shimmered with immense pressure—compressed to the brink like a cannonball about to be unleashed.
[Overburst – Active]
A radiant sphere of mana burst from the blade, tearing a molten path through the sky. The orb streaked like a comet, slamming into the doppelganger whale with immense force. It tore straight through the creature's side, a clean puncture—and yet, it barely staggered.
"Tch… Should've guessed," Subaru hissed through gritted teeth. Despite his labored breathing, he refused to relent. Already, he was drawing mana into himself again, shaping another strike.
Meanwhile, Crusch had not remained idle. She gathered the wind a second time, and this time it howled around her. The hem of her coat whipped wildly as she lifted her sword high and swung with a deafening cry.
"HAAA!"
Her battle cry boomed like thunder, and a monstrous blade of wind erupted forward. It cleaved through the air with brutal grace, striking the second whale square in its midsection. The gust didn't merely slice; it tore, grinding through hide and sinew down to the creature's ribs. No blood flowed—only a blast of pale white mist, as if the beast bled fog.
The doppelganger wailed, a harrowing screech that reverberated like shattering glass across the battlefield. And yet, even in pain, its fury only deepened. The second whale tucked its wings and dove, enraged, its jagged maw wide open, eyes glowing with a feral, crimson gleam. Death itself descended.
Then, it happened—the fog.
It rolled in without warning. Not with sound or flash, but with an eerie silence. It crept over the battlefield like a phantom tide, blanketing everything in white. Sight vanished. Sound dulled. The world became still.
Soldiers stumbled. One fell to his knees, his expression twisted in fear, then softened into a blank calm.
Another dropped his weapon as if it no longer had purpose. His name? Forgotten. His reason to fight? Lost. Even his identity faded into the mist.
"PRIDE BREAKER!"
Subaru's voice erupted like a volcanic blast. It wasn't just a shout—it was a declaration, a defiance against oblivion. His cry fractured the fog, splitting it apart like a blade cleaving the ocean.
The Authority of Absolute Contradiction surged to life. In an instant, the suffocating fog evaporated as though it had never been, burned away by invisible fire. The battlefield was bared once more. The illusions—shattered. The doppelganger whales, deprived of their spectral shield, flailed helplessly in the air. Their rhythm disrupted, they spiraled downward, crashing into the ground one after another. Each impact resounded like a drumbeat of war, violent and final.
A gleam flashed in Subaru's eyes. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He adjusted his grip on Duskveil and bolted forward.
"This... is pretty damn handy."
He sprinted between the falling titans, weaving through chaos. As he passed, he called out with all the force his lungs could muster:
"WILHELM-SAN! CRUSCH-SAN! I'M LEAVING THESE COPIES TO YOU!"
Wilhelm stood amidst the fray, his blade dripping with the mist of battle. At Subaru's words, his eyes lit—not with surprise, but a sharpened resolve. His wife's vengeance was no longer a dream spoken in whispers. It stood in front of him, tangible, reachable. And the one who had carved this path—Subaru—earned a respect Wilhelm rarely gave. In that moment, this wasn't just war. It was a vow.
Crusch, still poised in the aftermath of her last strike, watched Subaru vanish into the chaos. Her narrowed eyes followed him a moment longer than necessary. What would he demand in return for all this? She didn't know. But she would remember this debt.
And Subaru—he was already gone.
By the time he reached the base of the Flugel Tree, the battlefield was behind him, replaced by silence and shadow. The massive tree towered into the heavens, its roots coiling like serpents. Around him, darkness thickened, not as a hindrance, but as a welcome embrace. This was his element.
[Yin Step – Active]
Shadows twined around him like loyal hounds. They clung to his form, dulling his presence until he was nearly invisible—more breath than body. The ground shifted beneath his feet, rippling with each silent step like the surface of a black ocean.
With a push off the earth, Subaru began his ascent. He scaled the tree, running along its massive trunk with ease no normal human should possess. Each step twisted his insides, his stomach churning as if gravity itself conspired against him.
"Ugh... Definitely not good for my stomach..."
Above, in an impossible posture, floated Flugel. He was upside down, hovering midair with arms crossed and an unreadable smile.
"Your battlefield shouldn't be limited to the ground," Flugel said calmly. "Use the sky. The air. Your enemy won't expect that. You've only just begun to bend mass—next, bend motion. Shape the wind. With training, even the stars will feel reachable."
Subaru stared at him flatly, face expressionless, only a hint of irritation in his eyes. With a long sigh, he muttered:
"You do realize how hard it is to take advice from someone floating upside down, right?"
[Yin Step – Deactivated]
Suddenly, he rose like a cannonball loosed from the grip of gravity, soaring through the sky with lethal intent. His body cut through the wind, each heartbeat like the war drum of fate. Without a moment's hesitation, he landed squarely atop the colossal body of the White Whale—positioned with uncanny precision atop its massive, twisted horn. Beneath him, the monstrous creature's very core pulsed like the heart of an apocalyptic storm.
The whale's sickly yellow eyes locked onto him. Bloodshot and brimming with an ancient malice, they tracked his every move. Subaru took a deep breath—slow, deliberate, almost reverent—as he filled his lungs with the battlefield's thick air. Ash, ozone, and the stench of something beyond death filled his senses. At that instant, his entire essence condensed into a single, unshakable thought.
"The stench on me draws you in... Then feast your eyes on this!"
He inhaled again, this time with a fury that set his chest ablaze. It was as though he were about to swing the gavel of destiny itself.
"I RETURN BY DE—"
Time shattered.
The air fell deathly still, thick and unmoving. The distant roars of battle faded into a void. For a heartbeat—or a thousand—the world seemed to hold its breath.
Out of the frozen silence, a hand—woven from shadow, darker than any night—slithered forth. It reached directly for Subaru's chest, aiming straight for his heart.
Yet instead of crushing or piercing, the hand merely brushed against him. Its touch was feather-light. It lingered over his heart, and then rose—gently running through his hair in a calming, almost maternal gesture. As if offering reassurance rather than punishment. As if to say: not yet.
To any observer, the scene might have resembled a benediction rather than a curse.
Then, just as silently as it had appeared, the shadow withdrew. It dissolved into the still air, leaving only Subaru, frozen and wide-eyed.
"What... what the hell was that...?"
His whisper seemed louder than it should have been, echoing strangely through the suspended world. And then—
The White Whale screamed.
A soul-splitting, mind-wracking howl tore through the battlefield like a rift in reality itself. Its frequency twisted the air, shattered windows miles away, and brought even the hardiest of soldiers to their knees. Some collapsed outright, ears bleeding, eyes wide and sightless.
The spell broke. Time resumed its flow.
Subaru's pupils narrowed as his focus returned with brutal clarity. There was no more time.
[Mana Blade - Active]
[Shadow Blades - Active]
Duskveil, his dagger, began to pulse. A viscous black aura enveloped it, churning like flame—but colder, crueler. It licked the air with tendrils of despair, coiling like serpents thirsting for vengeance.
"I'm so damn tired of you," Subaru muttered through gritted teeth. "Please... just die already, you cursed monstrosity."
His lips curled into a sardonic smile, and with that—
He leapt.
Sliding from the horn like a blade off a whetstone, Subaru plunged downward. The wind lashed his face, tugging at his clothes like claws. He felt no fear. Every last shred of hesitation, of doubt, had burned away.
He plummeted like a spear hurled by a wrathful god.
"STRAIGHT INTO YOUR BRAIN!"
The dark aura coiling around Duskveil was no longer merely magic—it was the distilled wrath of a soul pushed to the edge. His fury, grief, and exhaustion had coalesced into a weapon of pure, righteous destruction.
Empowered by gravity's pull, he drove the blade deep into the White Whale's skull. A sickening crack echoed across the valley as the dagger pierced hide, bone, and sinew.
Yin energy erupted from the blade's core, snaking into the beast's body like liquid malice. It surged through its nervous system like wildfire through dry grass. Invisible veins pulsed with darkness, carrying the curse to every corner of the monster's body. Its muscles spasmed. Its enormous limbs flailed uncontrollably.
A being once heralded as a god of calamity—a nightmare made flesh—was now being undone by its own corrupted biology.
Subaru's feet hit solid ground, knees buckling. He nearly collapsed, barely managing to keep himself standing. His body trembled—not from fear, but from sheer depletion. Every inch of him screamed in agony, muscles on the verge of collapse.
The air stung his lungs. It reeked of sulfur, smoke, blood, and decay. Dust choked the sky. He glanced upward—the White Whale, its movements jerky and disoriented, was slowly descending. Its body quaked with each motion, fighting to resist death's pull.
Even now, it refused to yield.
Even now, it tried to drag him down with it.
But death was already inside it.
The poison had ruptured its mind, sundered its will. With a final, shrill moan—a sound of agony and defiance—the great beast crashed into the earth. Its body struck like a meteor. The land trembled. Craters formed. A cloud of ash and dirt erupted, sweeping across the battlefield in an oppressive wave.
Silence fell. A grave silence.
Subaru took one step. Then another.
He moved toward the corpse with the sluggishness of a man carrying a mountain. Every footfall sent tremors up his legs. Every breath felt like knives in his chest.
At last, he stood beside it. The creature that had haunted his nightmares was now still. Subaru reached out and placed a hand on its hide. It was cold. Cold and impossibly hard.
He leaned against it. Closed his eyes. Not victory. Not triumph. Just... disbelief. He was alive.
Across from him, Crusch Karsten and her army stood. Crusch, her presence commanding as ever, still bore the blood of battle on her sword. Her armor was dented, smeared with ash, and scorched from magic. Yet even she—who had led like a goddess of war—looked at Subaru with an expression of awe.
Wilhelm van Astrea stepped forward beside her. His eyes, sharp and ancient, were narrowed not in suspicion—but in wonder.
The three of them stood amidst the settling dust. Subaru looked down once more at the leviathan he had slain. Then raised his gaze, slowly, to the two warriors before him.
Crusch was the first to break the silence. Her voice—usually as steady as steel—carried a quiet tremble beneath its surface.
"Subaru... That whale behind you... Is it truly dead?"
Subaru shook his head slowly, his eyes never straying from the hulking form of the White Whale. The monstrous creature lay paralyzed, its immense body twitching only slightly with faint, shallow breaths. "No. Right now it's just paralyzed,"
Subaru said quietly, voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. "It can't move because of the toxin coursing through its veins, but it's still alive. It's still breathing. And killing it... that shouldn't be my task. That right belongs to Wilhelm-san. It's his burden to lay down, his vengeance to claim. This is something deeply personal. It's about his wife... maybe, just maybe, if he strikes the final blow, the hatred he's carried for so long—especially the resentment toward his grandson—might finally begin to ease."
Wilhelm's eyes welled up, the glimmer of tears threatening to fall. His gaunt, timeworn features carried the story of countless battles and deeper losses. The trembling of his fingers betrayed the storm raging within as he reached for his sword. For a moment, he stood there frozen, overcome by a lifetime of pain and waiting. But then, as his calloused hand found the hilt, something changed. His back straightened, and a fire flickered in his eyes—not the fury of rage, but the quiet blaze of purpose long denied.
"Subaru-dono..." he began, his voice low and cracked with emotion, "there aren't enough words in this world to express my gratitude. This burden... I have carried it longer than I care to admit. My wife, the one light in my life, was taken from me. For years, I fought on not for justice, but for survival. I stopped believing I would ever get this moment. I had given up."
With that, he drew his blade. The metal hissed and sang as it escaped the scabbard, the sound resonating like a long-awaited song of reckoning. Even the wind seemed to still as the steel caught the moonlight, as though the world itself acknowledged what was about to unfold.
"For giving me this chance... this gift of closure... I am truly, eternally grateful."
He turned away and approached the paralyzed beast. His steps were slow but unyielding. The ground beneath him felt sacred, every footfall a tribute to the love he'd lost. When he reached the creature's side, Wilhelm raised his sword high and brought it down with all the strength his aging frame could muster.
Steel met flesh. A howl of agony filled the air. Blood gushed from the wound, dark and thick, staining the earth beneath. Again and again, Wilhelm struck, each swing a cry of mourning, of fury, of a soul long denied peace. His shouts grew louder, more primal, as though with each strike he was calling his wife's name into the void, asking her to hear him, to know he had not forgotten. The soldiers nearby dared not interrupt. No one moved. No one spoke. This was his moment, his requiem.
And Subaru... Subaru could not bear to watch any longer. His chest felt heavy, as though the pain and history and tragedy of that moment had rooted itself in his own heart. He turned his back, letting his feet carry him forward.
Behind him, Crusch Karsten's voice rang out, clear and strong: "Subaru! I won't forget this! I swear it! Thank you—for everything you've done!"
He stopped. Just for a breath. His eyes closed slowly as he absorbed the words. In the darkness behind his lids, he felt a flicker of warmth—a light pushing through the weight he carried. For so long, he'd walked a path filled with blood and sorrow, and rarely was there thanks. But now, in those simple words, he felt seen. Acknowledged. And for a brief moment, that was enough.
He bowed his head slightly, lips curling into a faint, weary smile. Praise and recognition—they weren't trophies, but they mattered. More than he'd ever let himself admit. But deeper still, something else pulsed louder now. A need. A yearning. The desperate ache to see his sister again. That longing had become the compass of his soul.
With steady, deliberate strides, Subaru walked away from the battlefield. His pace wasn't hurried. It was quiet, purposeful. The weight of what had just happened still lingered in the air like smoke. Yet he carried no regret. Only fatigue. And determination.
Eventually, he reached a wide clearing. The sky overhead was veiled in clouds, stars hidden from view. But in Subaru's mind, he could still see them. Bright. Guiding. Constant.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the chill of the night air. His heartbeat began to slow, syncing with a strange, inner calm. He focused. Centered himself.
[Yang Travel - Active]
A soft, radiant white light bloomed around him. His body lifted ever so slightly, the ground beneath his feet fading into formless haze. The transition was smooth, like slipping into a warm current. The world around him began to dissolve, outlines melting into the void.
"Honestly... I'm getting tired of all this traveling," he murmured to himself, voice low but sincere. "I just want a place to rest. Even for a little while."
Beside him, Flugel emerged, drifting without sound. His form shimmered faintly, like wind made visible. His presence, though wordless, brought a calming weight.
"Some rest... would be welcome for me as well," he said at last, his voice like the echo of falling leaves.
Subaru's eyelids parted gently. Before him, a road unfolded—not made of stone or earth, but of resolve and memory. It led toward the Mathers Mansion, where the next chapter awaited.
He did not walk like a hero returning in glory. He walked like someone who had fought too many battles. Who had lost and learned and endured.
But he walked.
And that act alone was enough to make the distant light on the horizon burn brighter.