Subaru barely remembered how he got back. One moment, the biting cold of the night had been all he could feel; the next, he was standing in front of Ludwig's shop, the carriage wheels already creaking away behind him. He thought he heard Julius's voice—something polite, probably a "Goodbye" or "Stay safe." But Subaru didn't care. Not tonight.
His fingers tightened around the spare key as he pushed the door open.
Inside, Ludwig jolted upright from his chair at the sudden sound, shoulders stiff, but relaxed almost instantly when he saw who it was.
"What're ya doing here, kid?" Ludwig asked, his gruff voice softened by a hint of surprise.
Subaru didn't answer. Not a word. He just moved past him, each step heavy, like his body was dragging itself forward without his say. He headed straight for the small living room, to the corner where he'd spent his first three months in this world.
Ludwig frowned at the silent treatment, a little sting hitting his chest. Subaru never looked that hollow before. He tried to lighten the mood.
"Didja get kicked to the couch so soon?" he said with a crooked grin, tone light and joking.
No reaction. Subaru just kept walking, his eyes fixed on that old mattress. It was still there, right where he'd left it—untouched, unchanged, like it had been waiting for him. Without even bothering to brush the snow from his boots, he collapsed onto it, face buried in the worn fabric.
His mind didn't race. It didn't scream. It just… went quiet. All those sharp, cutting thoughts that usually circled him—the "what ifs," the "should haves"—faded into silence.
Ludwig watched him from the doorway, lips pressed into a thin line. He let out a sigh—not of disappointment, but of weariness. It had been years since he'd done this… the whole "father-to-son talk" thing. And he was damn rusty.
Still, the boy looked like he needed something.
The older man stepped closer, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, boots planted firmly on the wooden floor. He faced the wall, but turned his head just enough to look at Subaru, slumped and silent.
"Lay it on me," Ludwig muttered, his voice low, "what'd ya do this time?"
Subaru stayed silent. His breath was shallow, his face hidden. But Ludwig didn't need words. He already knew.
"Listen, kid," Ludwig said after a pause, his voice gentler than Subaru had ever heard it. "Ya messed up somehow, sure. But that's alright. Yer value ain't decided by yer past… or by what ya could've done. It's what ya do now that counts."
For the first time, Subaru shifted. He turned his face just enough to look at Ludwig's back. Their eyes didn't meet, but somehow, the silence between them felt like acknowledgment. Like both of them understood, even without saying it.
Ludwig dropped his gaze, letting the weight of his words linger. Then, quietly, he stood.
"Sleep well, Subaru."
The crackle of the fire filled the room as Ludwig tossed another log into the hearth. The faint glow painted the walls in soft orange before the quiet click of Ludwig's bedroom door left Subaru alone.
Subaru rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The cracks in the old wood blurred as his vision stung. His lips parted, and a whisper escaped before he could stop it.
"What's… wrong with me?"
The room gave no answer. Only the steady warmth of the fire, the faint ticking of the old clock, and his own heartbeat kept him company. Slowly, he drifted into a sleep without dreams.
When he woke, morning light was already spilling through the windows. For a fleeting second, he prayed yesterday had been nothing but a nightmare—that Emilia would walk in, bright-eyed and smiling, maybe teasing him for still being in bed. But the emptiness beside him told the truth.
Dragging himself up, Subaru didn't bother with food. He glanced at the clock—just past nine. His head throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of the illusion he was still maintaining. It was painful, but the ache was comforting too. As long as he felt it, he knew she was safe.
The walls of the home felt suffocating, the air too still for his restless chest. Subaru grabbed his coat, tugging it over his shoulders with little care, and stepped outside into the morning chill.
The cold hit him like a wall, sharp and clean, yet it did nothing to ease the heaviness pressing down on him. Snow crunched under his boots as he wandered a few paces from the door, lifting his gaze toward the pale winter sky.
"Subaru, I see you're up bright and early today."
The familiar, infuriatingly composed voice made him tense before he even turned. He didn't need to look to know. Julius.
He pivoted slowly, his expression sour. "Come here to rub it in my face or something?"
Julius blinked, brow furrowing slightly. "I'm sorry—I don't know what you're referring to…"
"Tch." Subaru turned away, bitterness twisting his chest. He didn't hate Julius—not really. But the sight of him, with that calm face and effortless poise, burned like salt in an open wound. If Subaru were someone like him, maybe Emilia wouldn't have looked so sad. Maybe she wouldn't have pushed him away.
"Nevertheless," Julius said, his tone careful, "we are departing soon. I wish you luck in all your endeavors." He paused, as if debating the right words. "And… I hope you repair your relationship with Miss Emilia."
Subaru's throat tightened. He said nothing.
Julius inclined his head in a polite bow before stepping back, leaving Subaru with the silence once more.
The village buzzed with life around Subaru. People streamed past him, arms full of ribbons, wood, and boxes of bright ornaments, hanging them along storefronts and across narrow alleys. He blinked, his sluggish mind catching up to the obvious.
Right… the festival.
It was just around the corner. Some kind of yearly tradition, a celebration for the beginning of summer. He gave a short, bitter laugh under his breath. Summer never really came here. Not to this frozen land.
Strings of lanterns—round and colorful, like captured little moons—hung unlit above shops, waiting for tomorrow's light. Business owners had set up stalls outside, some clearly for travelers who'd heard of the festival and come to see it themselves. Subaru slowed as he passed them, his chest tightening at the sight of games he recognized instantly. Ring toss, darts, prizes dangling from threads. They were familiar, achingly so—like little fragments stolen from a Japanese festival and stitched into this alien place.
It should have felt comforting. Instead, it made the loneliness sharper.
He stopped in front of a shop he hadn't visited since nearly a month ago. Its owner, Rio, was on a ladder, balancing with one hand while holding a string of lanterns with the other. She spotted him right away.
"Oh, Subaru!" she called down. Her face lit with a smile that didn't quite hide the concern beneath. "Won't you be a nice boy and help me with these?"
For a moment, Subaru wanted to say no. He wanted to disappear, sink into a corner where no one could reach him. But his body moved before his heart could refuse. He stretched his lips into that same tired mask he'd been wearing.
"Yeah! I'm always happy to help!"
The cheer in his voice was too bright, too rehearsed. But it was enough. He stacked a few boxes—since he wasn't tall enough otherwise—and climbed up to tie the string across the building. The lanterns hung in a neat three-point droop, swaying slightly in the breeze.
From across the storefront, Rio's curious eyes never left him. "So…" she began, her voice carrying an innocent lilt that was anything but. "Are you going to invite your girlfriend to the festival? More business always makes me happy."
The word girlfriend made Subaru stumble mid-knot. His heart jerked, and the fake cheer on his lips faltered. He tried to summon the same upbeat voice from moments ago, but what came out was weak, uneven.
"She's not my girlfriend!" he blurted. His attempt at denial cracked halfway through. He avoided her gaze, his eyes darting instead to the snowflakes settling on the string in his hands. "Besides… I don't think she'd like to come anyway. She doesn't do well with crowds."
The excuse was true. But it wasn't the truth.
Rio tilted her head, the smile fading into a worried frown. "Dearie… did something happen?"
"No! Nothing at all! I don't know why you'd think that!" Subaru said too fast, too loud. He forced the mask back on, patching over the cracks. If she saw through it, if anyone did, it would all unravel.
She opened her mouth, ready to press him further.
"There!" Subaru cut her off, hopping down from the boxes with a flourish. He planted his fists on his hips, forcing a wide grin. "All done!"
Rio stepped closer, still searching his face, but Subaru darted back, waving as he hurried off.
"I can't wait to see how your shop looks tomorrow!" he called, his voice stretching too thin, too bright. "It's gonna be the best in the village for sure!"
He left her standing there, lanterns swaying in the cold breeze.
As he weaved through the busy streets, villagers greeted him cheerfully, some asking if he and Emilia would come play games tomorrow. He smiled, waved, and brushed them all off with the same line: "Sorry! I'm busy!" His steps quickened each time, as though the smiles pressing in on him were weights he couldn't carry.
He took a sharp turn down a side street, then another, heading for the square. His breath came faster, his chest tight.
Then—
Crash!
He rounded a corner too quickly and slammed into someone. Both of them toppled backward, landing hard in the snow. Subaru winced, rubbing his forehead.
"Sorry, sorry! My bad—are you okay?"
"Subaru?"
The familiar voice made his stomach sink.
Reina. Of all people.
One of the villagers he'd gotten somewhat close to—close enough that if he ranked them, she'd be fifth. Which meant close enough to notice when something was wrong. Close enough to see straight through him.
And right now, she was the last person he wanted to face.
"O-oh, hey, Reina. Nice weather we're having, huh?" He forced the words out, plastering on a strained smile.
Her skeptical eyes scanned him, head to toe. He could hide his expression. He could fake his words. But he couldn't fake the absence of his usual spark.
"The weather never changes, idiot," she said flatly. Then, softer, "What's wrong with you?"
The question hit harder than he expected. He swallowed, chest aching. He didn't want this. Didn't want pity. Didn't want her to peel away the mask and see what lay beneath.
So he did what he always did best.
He ran.
"Hey—wait!" Reina called after him, but he didn't turn back.
His legs carried him without hesitation now, straight into the forest. The trees loomed tall and dark around him, branches creaking overhead. For an instant, he swore he saw gleaming eyes between the trunks—mabeasts, maybe. But they never moved, and he was still alive. Hallucinations, then.
Finally, the forest broke into an unnaturally perfect clearing. Subaru didn't stop running until he reached the center. There, his knees gave out. He collapsed, palms sinking into the cold snow. His breath came in ragged bursts, his shoulders trembling.
"Damn it… DAMN IT!" His scream tore from his throat, echoing through the empty trees. It sounded almost identical to the first time he'd done it, the day he'd arrived in this cruel world.
He always ran. From pain. From confrontation. From himself.
Maybe if Ludwig had pressed a little harder… maybe I would've cracked. Maybe I'd be myself again.
No. That was a lie. A sweet, coward's lie.
"Why do I have to be so weak?" he whispered. His hands clenched into fists, snow crunching beneath his fingers.
Puck had said his powers were great. Emilia believed in him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon that fire again. He had to be missing something.
Desperation burned in his chest. He thought of everything he could try, every reckless gamble. He couldn't stand the thought of being useless—of being tossed aside again. If he could prove he was worth something, if he could give Emilia reason to keep him close, then maybe… maybe she wouldn't had made him leave.
There was one way. A dangerous way to forcibly expand his mana capacity. He could try, and if he failed, Return by Death would give him another chance. But it was reckless. He couldn't even heal himself afterward.
In chasing after power, he'd neglected something Puck had always urged him toward.
Spirits.
The word struck him like a spark. Spirits could do what he couldn't. They could lend him strength, maybe even heal him while he pushed his limits. If he could contract with them… maybe everything would change.
The only problem was… he had no idea how.
Alone in the cold, his breath steadying, Subaru closed his eyes. The snow didn't touch him. The silence pressed heavy on his shoulders.
And for the first time, he tried to speak to the spirits.
Unaware that, even now, just beyond the village borders, two dangerous spirits were drawing near each other.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
"Damn it…"
The word left Puck's lips in a quiet breath, white vapor curling out into the cold like a ghost. His small body hovered just above the frozen soil, tufts of frost-coated grass bending beneath the gentle hum of mana that clung to him like a second skin.
He'd been stalling Melakuera for days now. Weeks, maybe. Time blurred together. It had already been a miracle that he'd managed to hold the spirit back for this long—before Subaru arrived.
But now? After that… there was no hiding it anymore.
Subaru's recklessness had been the spark. That wild burst of power he'd used against a few petty bandits had screamed like a siren through the unseen corridors of the world. It had changed everything. The clock—Emilia's fragile, borrowed time—was running out faster than ever.
And now the fire was coming.
A flicker in the wind announced its presence.
In the distance, the still white air fractured—bending, trembling—before erupting in a whirlwind of fire. A molten sphere emerged, wreathed in chaotic tongues of flame that spun in alternating hues of blood red and deep blue. It pulsed like a living thing, fire spiraling outward in unruly lashes.
Then, without warning, the chaos contracted—imploding in on itself. The ball of fire collapsed and reshaped, limbs unfurling, form stabilizing until it took shape:
A horse. No, not a horse. Something older, sharper, and far more terrifying.
Its muscular form gleamed like molten metal, the once violent reds cooling into a tempered amber and yellow. Its wings stretched out with ethereal grace, twin blades of shimmering sky-blue flame that left trails of heat in the frozen air. Two glowing blue eyes, hollow and piercing, stared out from a head crowned by the distinct silhouette of a knight's helm—metal fused with myth. No warmth. No heart. Only judgment.
Puck floated higher, arms crossed, the wind tugging at his silver tufts of fur.
"You keep coming back," he muttered, half to himself. "But my answer isn't gonna change." He gave a casual shrug, trying to suppress the knot in his chest. "There's no one in this forest but me."
The creature's hooves didn't touch the ground. It stood suspended, fire licking beneath its limbs like silent thunder.
Its voice rang out—calm, steady, mechanical.
"This forest. Magic. Frozen land. Great fire. Threat to world."
Every word struck like a tolling bell, devoid of emotion yet heavy with inevitability.
Puck forced a chuckle, scratching his cheek with one clawed paw. "Ah, sorry about that," he said with a smirk. "Guess I was a little backed up. Had to let it out somehow!"
He tried to keep the tone light, breezy, stupid. Lie. Spin. Distract. The same tricks he'd used for centuries.
But this time, it was already too late.
Subaru's outburst hadn't just been noticed. It had been measured, catalogued, and flagged. And to a spirit like Melakuera, whose role was written into the very structure of the world, a threat left unchecked wasn't a possibility. It was a mandate. A protocol.
Eliminate. Erase. Restore balance.
"You lie. Deceit. I am Mediator Melakuera. Here to enforce judgment. Perform mediation."
The voice echoed again—devoid of feeling, yet impossibly final.
Puck sighed. His ears twitched slightly as he turned his face away, eyes half-lidded.
"You never give up, do ya?" he said with something like tired affection. Then he turned back and waved a paw flippantly. "Take a sharp right, march on home, horsey." He kicked his legs in the air, mimicking a prance with exaggerated flair. "Clomp clomp, back to the stables."
He smiled. But it didn't reach his eyes.
Because he already knew. This was it.
This was the final line in the snow.
It wasn't about winning. Puck knew he couldn't beat Melakuera—not truly. Not alone. But maybe he could stall him again. Delay judgment. Keep Emilia safe. Keep him safe.
Subaru.
That kid had done well so far—stumbling, sure, but still standing. Still trying. And whatever had happened after Puck had returned to his crystal, he couldn't say. When he woke, Subaru had vanished. Emilia refused to explain.
She just… looked away, her expression distant and sad.
Puck hadn't pushed.
He didn't need to. The pain was written in the silence.
So this—this—was all he had left. Maybe, if he held the line, if he played his part… Subaru would have time to become the one who could protect her. Not just survive. Not just react. But choose to stand beside her.
That was the kind of boy she needed.
The kind of boy she'd already started to believe in.
"Insult. Mockery. Obvious declaration of war. I accept."
Melakuera's words hung in the air like a gavel strike.
Around the fire-spirit's body, the air began to shimmer. One by one, burning spheres ignited—each a compressed sun of elemental fury. Six. Eight. A dozen. They floated in precise orbit, primed for devastation.
Puck's expression hardened. The snow under him began to crackle and freeze, moisture pulled from the air as crystalline lances of pure ice materialized around him—each one gleaming with sharpened purpose. They circled like the teeth of a predator, glittering in the fading light.
No more words.
The clearing became a cathedral of silence and pressure. Wind stopped. Sound held its breath.
And in that moment, fire and ice collided.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Subaru closed his eyes and took a steady breath, the chill of the forest brushing against his skin like ice-laced fingertips. His mind, though fogged with fatigue, reached out—groping in the silence—for something, anything to answer his call.
Then, like faint glimmers of starlight breaking through cloud cover, they came.
Tiny glowing wisps shimmered into existence around him. They twirled and danced in the air, forming a ring of light in the gloom of the clearing. Each one pulsed gently with a color of its own—blue, green, violet—and they whispered in voices too soft to make out, yet warm enough to reach his heart.
It felt like being surrounded by dozens of eager children all crying out at once for attention—fluttering closer, vibrating with excitement. Not menacing, but overwhelming.
"Woah…" Subaru breathed, eyes wide. His voice trembled with awe. "I guess I really am good at this."
He remembered Puck's teasing words, how the spirit had once called him unusually talented at spirit arts. Subaru had laughed it off. He didn't know what it was supposed to feel like—had nothing to compare it to. Maybe this was normal? Or maybe... he really was special?
The spirits responded to his thoughts by buzzing faster around him, their small lights casting glimmers across the snow. The clearing looked like a ballroom under starlight, and Subaru stood at the center, breath stolen by the beauty of it.
This… this could be something. Something that made him worth something. Something Emilia could look at and say: I believe in you.
He straightened his posture, heart lifting.
"Hey, I want to form a contract," he said, smiling. "With a few of you, if that's alright?"
The spirits flared brightly at once, eager to be chosen. Their voices grew louder, though still ethereal, like wind through glass. Subaru could feel their magic brushing against his fingertips—warm, ticklish, alive.
Of course, he couldn't take them all. He'd be lucky to manage four with his current mana. But that was fine. He'd figure out how to expand that later—force it, if he had to. Maybe Return by Death would even toss him back far enough to give him more time. A clean reset.
No. He shook his head. He couldn't think like that.
Focus.
He looked at one of the brighter spirits, beginning to point. "Alright, I think I'll go with yo—"
His voice caught in his throat.
His body went still.
Beyond the treeline, far in the direction of the village, a thick pillar of smoke was rising into the sky. Black. Heavy. Writhing.
The breath left his lungs. The cold air suddenly felt suffocating.
No… no, no, no.
The village was on fire.
"Sorry guys—maybe next time!" Subaru shouted, his voice cracking as he turned and ran, the spirits' cries fading behind him. His boots pounded against the snow, heart slamming into his ribs like it was trying to escape.
As he pushed through the trees, the smoke grew thicker, the air tinged with ash. But it wasn't just fire. This time, something else followed him.
Eyes. Footsteps. Shadows moving at the edge of his vision. Subaru stumbled to a halt, panting, and looked around. Cloaked figures emerged from the treeline—hooded men, their faces obscured. They surrounded him in a loose circle, watching in silence.
He clenched his fists, blood boiling.
"You want a piece of me? Then come get me!" he shouted, dropping into a defensive stance. His voice echoed through the trees, but the figures didn't move.
Instead, they… They bowed.
Subaru blinked, confused. The men didn't attack. One by one, they simply ran—brisk and purposeful—heading in the direction of the burning village.
"What the hell…?" he muttered. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. His gut twisted.
He ran after them, legs burning, fear gnawing at his spine.
Subaru's breath caught as he crested the final hill, the village finally coming into full view.
What he saw stopped his heart.
The fire hadn't merely touched the village—it had consumed it.
Black smoke billowed into the sky in thick, choking columns. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burning wood, charred flesh, and blood. Flames still clung to what was left of the homes, gnawing at collapsing rooftops and sending embers scattering into the sky like dying stars.
He stumbled forward, boots crunching over glass and snow and something softer.
Bodies.
So many bodies.
Men, women, children—villagers he had just seen hours ago—were strewn like broken dolls across the ground. Some were collapsed in doorways, others in the middle of the road. A few had clearly tried to run. None had made it.
The snow was stained red. Thick, wet, and glistening. What was once pure white now looked like a butcher's canvas, soaked in violence and despair.
Subaru could barely move. His legs shook. His hands trembled.
A scream built in his throat, but no sound came out. His mind felt like it was fraying at the edges—unable to comprehend what his eyes were showing him.
He walked numbly into the heart of the village, past smoking ruins and smoldering corpses. Every step echoed like a drumbeat in his ears, deafened by the horror around him.
And then—he heard it.
Faint, distant shouting. The clash of metal. Another scream—young, high-pitched.
Alive.
Someone was still alive.
Subaru turned instinctively, ready to sprint toward the sound, but—before he could take a step—everything went silent.
Utter silence.
Not like the calm before a storm. Like the world had stopped breathing.
He turned slowly, heart pounding.
That was when he saw it.
A small figure lying just ahead, crumpled in the snow.
A boy with orange hair
His voice cracked like glass.
Subaru staggered forward, fell to his knees, and scooped the boy into his arms. Lucas's eyes were wide open—but they saw nothing. His body was limp, cold. Subaru's hands were instantly slick with blood, warmth draining from the child faster than it should have been allowed.
He couldn't stop shaking.
"No no no no no no no—" the words spilled from his lips in a breathless panic, each repetition more frantic, more broken.
He felt like screaming. Like vomiting. Like tearing the world apart with his bare hands.
Why? Why!?
Then—
A voice.
Smooth. Cold. Awash with gleeful madness.
"I have been waiting a long time to see you, believer in love."
Subaru's eyes snapped up, and his body turned before he even realized it.
A man was walking toward him, slow and casual, as if he were strolling through a garden rather than a slaughterhouse. His robes were the same as the hooded attackers—dark, tattered, ceremonial. But his hood was down.
Green hair.
Sickly green skin.
Eyebags deep and shadowed, stained with trails of dried blood like the tears of a madman.
His smile—his smile—was the most horrifying thing Subaru had ever seen. It wasn't wide because of joy. It was wide because something in the man had snapped, and whatever filled the space behind that expression was something inhuman.
He stopped a few feet away and bowed low, his head dipping like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
"I am a Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult," he declared, voice trembling with euphoria, "representing Sloth—Betelgeuse Romanée-Conti. TES."
At the utterance of that final syllable, his body convulsed. His head jerked violently to the side with a loud, wet crack, his neck twisting into an impossible angle.
Subaru flinched back, nearly dropping Lucas's body.
His stomach turned. His breath came in short, gasping bursts. There was no rational response to what he was seeing. No training or preparation for something this wrong.
Then came the pain.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Spiritual.
Like a taut cord inside him had snapped in two—something invisible but real, something that connected him to… someone.
His heart froze.
The pressure in his skull, ever-present like a shadow behind his thoughts, lessened.
No. No.
He could feel it—something had changed. Something vital had been taken.
He looked back up at Betelgeuse, whose arms were now wrapped tightly around himself, swaying like a drunkard in a trance.
"You…" Subaru's voice shook with fury. "What did you do… to them? To Emilia?!"
His hands balled into fists. Every muscle in his body trembled. If he didn't like the answer—
He would kill him.
Betelgeuse let out a moan—half ecstasy, half grief.
"We are here to find the sacrifice. And through her, we shall bring back the Witch! The one we worship. The one we love!"
He clutched his face, clawed at his skin until fresh blood spilled over his lips.
"You… you do not carry a Gospel? Are you not Pride?"
He tilted forward in a slow, unnatural lean—nearly horizontal—his arms behind his back like a teacher observing a disobedient student.
Subaru's fury ignited.
He dropped Lucas's body gently onto the ground and rose.
"To hell with your plans!" he roared, and charged.
Betelgeuse didn't flinch.
Before Subaru's fist could connect, an unseen force seized him.
It was like invisible chains wrapped around his limbs, hoisting him into the air. His arms were stretched outward, his legs kicking uselessly.
He hovered in midair, completely at the mercy of the madman below.
Betelgeuse stared up at him with unblinking reverence.
Then he began to scratch.
Deep.
Violent.
His fingernails tore furrows into his cheeks, blood dribbling down in red curtains.
"Ah, ah, AH—it's TERRIBLE," he screamed, voice breaking with emotion. "That you are loved so dearly by her! And yet… and yet… and YET—"
He stopped.
His expression darkened.
The grin vanished.
"You… are not him."
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
CRACK.
Subaru's vision shattered.
His spine twisted.
His throat collapsed.
He didn't even realize he was screaming. The pain was too fast, too final.
Darkness swallowed him whole.