His white hair sat neither long nor short, unstyled and deceptively plain. His frame was unremarkable—neither hulking nor gaunt—something that would look swallowed by a true powerhouse. On sight alone, he might seem harmless.
Subaru knew better.
This man was a monster in a different shape. Only the likes of Reid or Reinhard could possibly match him, and only if there were some way to pierce whatever infallible defense his immortality provided.
"That could've gone badly, you know…"
Regulus said, languid and amused, the words rolling out as if tasting each one. He watched Sirius—her body twitching like a live wire—but never glanced at Subaru. His golden eyes remained fixed on Emilia's still face, as if memorizing a portrait.
"After all," he continued, smiling as if he were reciting the weather, "My bride nearly just got crushed to death because of you. Even I—benevolent and perfect as I am—have limits, you know. I would very much prefer that my future wife retain the general semblance of a human being rather than, say, a pancake. Wouldn't you agree? It would be awkward at dinner parties otherwise."
He gave a small, condescending chuckle.
"Had I not happened upon the scene, she would have been utterly flattened. Tragic. Unfortunate. Disturbingly messy. Now—do you have anything to say in your defense, Wrath?"
Sirius's features contorted. Her fingers dug into the chains until the links screeched like protest. She spat, eyes rimmed red and wild.
"—What are you getting at?!" She snarled.
Regulus tilted his head, indulgent as a man watching a child mispronounce a word.
"Of course you wouldn't understand. A rabid beast clinging to the memory of a madman who's long since died—how very human of you. It's hardly surprising you conflate mourning with meaning."
His smile stretched like a blade.
"You still lust after him, even after his passing? How very… poetic."
The flame in Sirius's gaze exploded outward. Crimson heat answered the call of her fury.
"DISAPPEAR! BECOME ASH—YOU PIECE OF FILTH!!"
With a blood curdling scream, she immediately hurled a wave of searing flame outward. It slammed into the space between them, consuming the air—and for a heartbeat it seemed to eat into Emilia and Regulus.
Beatrice suddenly stepped forward, eyes narrowed at the scene before her.
"How is Lusbel?"
Subaru asked swiftly, eyes narrowing.
"The boy is—fine, I suppose, I have already sent him away." Beatrice said, frowning. "Is Emilia—?"
Regulus's voice cut through the inferno with a terrifying level of calmness.
"Sirius, perhaps your temperament makes you forgetful of certain niceties—namely, basic human rights. To attack and threaten another for merely voicing an opinion? If anyone else other than myself had committed such a transgression here—why, they would have been turned to cinders. But I am not cruel without cause. You see, leniency is a quality of the truly magnanimous. A mark of the perfect man I am."
The flames around Sirius guttered when Regulus exhaled, as if some invisible hand pinched out the wick. Regulus was untouched; he stepped across blackened tiles that glowed and smoked at the edges, each footfall pristine. Nothing on him bore mark or ash. Only his face carried a thin, sour line of displeasure.
"As we do indeed share titles as fellow sin Archbishops," he went on smoothly, "I exercised restraint. But because you dared to harm—and to threaten the life of—the woman in my arms… I find myself compelled to speak plainly. Since the dawn of man, those who see their loved ones harmed have one rightful response: anger. Anger is a human right. Retribution, in moderation, is an understandable consequence. I claim only what is owed—revenge, yes—but justice, truly. Would you deny me that?"
He paused, savoring the weight of the notion.
"I am a gentleman, after all. And gentlemen expect certain courtesies."
"ANGRY? YOU—YOU ARE ANGRY?!" Sirius screamed. "THAT ANGER—THAT WRATH—IT'S MINE! HE GAVE IT TO ME!!"
Her voice cracked, a volcanic sound.
"NOW—DISAPPEAR! WITH THAT FILTHY HALF-DEVIL YOU CALL A WIFE!"
Chains recoiled at her command, links clattering as they braided into a molten lattice around Regulus. The plaza filled with the roar of metal and then a jet of vermilion fire that lanced skyward. Tiles beneath him puddled and steamed—everywhere but directly under his feet.
Around them the crowd writhed: eyes reddened and bled, noses ran, a low, animal keening rose up like an ugly hymn. The air itself felt traitorous. Sirius's breath came ragged as her wrath fed the blaze.
Regulus stepped forward, unblinking, through the heat. Stone hissed and cracked beneath his boots, but his clothing remained immaculate. Emilia, delicate and unconscious in his arms, bore no singe. Only Regulus's expression chilled: amusement curdling into icy disappointment.
"How difficult is it to get it through your thick skull that this is meaningless?"
he asked softly, the words sliding like silk.
"I have already shown mercy. I have restrained my infallible hand when many would not. That is the measure of a superior man. Yet you persist in this spectacle, repeating the same outburst and expecting different results. That—is not motivation or passion. It is delusion. Passion implies purpose. You have none. So tell me, Wrath, are you acting out of love… or merely theatrical habit?"
Sirius's face twisted into something feral.
"Why you— you insect—!"
Regulus's smile returned—slow, small, unbearably smug. He tilted his head and added, as if mentioning the weather:
"Do try to keep your temper in check. We are in a public place, after all. One must consider appearances. Though I suppose appearances mean little from where you stand—ash and all. But do not mistake my civility for weakness. I merely prefer my cruelty with a flourish."
Regulus's gaze slid from Sirius to Subaru. The scowl vanished from his face, replaced by something casual, as though he were appraising an unremarkable passerby.
"I do hope you'll forgive me for the pointless riffraff just now. Which is why I can forgive you for failing to give your name after I had declared my own. The opportunity never arose, thanks to a certain simpleton." His eyes flicked briefly toward Sirius before snapping back. "But no matter. You are…?"
Subaru's throat bobbed. He'd crossed paths with this monster before—but not here, not in this loop. Regulus didn't know him.
"…Ahh—right. You can call me Natsuki Subaru."
Regulus's lips curved. He closed his eyes and nodded, satisfied.
"Good, good. That response is truly the first step to forming a bond, to closing distance between strangers. Compared to the rabid beasts I encounter, you are one of the better ones. For that, you have my gratitude, Natsuki Subaru."
Subaru said nothing. His silence, though, was weight enough.
"—However." Regulus's smile thinned. His golden eyes narrowed, reading Subaru's face like scripture. "That glare. That look. Do you not think it disrespectful to aim such an expression at someone you have only just met? The Witch's Cult may be known for its infamy, but not all within it deserve to be judged equally. Take myself, for example."
He gestured faintly toward Sirius.
"But I suppose… some do worsen the reputation of the whole."
His gaze lingered on Wrath, disdain seeping through his tone. Then, almost politely:
"I will remain respectful. Therefore, I grant you the chance to apologize."
Subaru clicked his tongue. Then, to Regulus's surprise, his lips twitched into a grin.
"…Apologize? Me?"
His fists tightened. Cursed energy snarled through his body. He remembered all too well what Regulus was: invincible, untouchable, a man who could raze Gojo into bloody ruin without so much as blinking.
Meaning defense was meaningless.
All offense.
"Murak!"
Beatrice chanted, her tiny voice steady despite her grip tightening around Subaru's shoulders. Purple light flared at his feet, hurling him forward faster than gravity itself allowed.
"El Vita—!"
The same glow surged around his leg as he drew it back, then snapped it forward like a whip. It landed flush against Regulus's face with mountain-crushing force. The Archbishop's body shot away at supersonic speed across the plaza, Emilia tumbling free from his arms.
Subaru caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her against his chest. His legs coiled, ready for the retaliation to come his way.
And that it did.
Sirius's shriek split the plaza.
"YOU BASTARD—DIE! DIE, INSECT! WITHER AND DIE!"
Crimson fire erupted in a frenzy.
Subaru hissed through his teeth. He had no time for her, not with Regulus still standing—
"—Beako!"
"On it, I suppose, shamak!"
Beatrice yelled, unleashing a choking black mist that swallowed the plaza. Subaru lunged sideways, fleeing with both Beatrice and Emilia in close range.
Then—his blood froze.
Every nerve screamed at once. The air in front of him split apart.
A crescent of invisible wind carved reality itself open, eviscerating everything down to dust. Stone, brick, earth—gone. A trench split the ground and bisected a distant wall like paper.
Regulus stepped free of the crater. Not a hair disturbed. Not a wrinkle on his clothing. But his face was twisted in fury.
"You. You you you!" His voice rose, cracking with offended rage. "What possessed you to attack me just now? Were we not just conversing as any civilized men would—introducing ourselves, trading courtesies? And then you lash out?! Disgraceful! You are no better than that rabid Archbishop!"
Subaru braced to retort Regulus's words—but Sirius's fire struck first from his left before the chance arose. A crimson wave howled toward him.
"Pride!"
He spat through gritted teeth, slamming his palm into the ground just as a wall of darkness manifested to block the heat from razing the three of them to ash.
But defense meant nothing here.
Air howled the very next moment from his right, too fast to react, unstoppable.
"GAHHH—!"
Subaru's scream tore out as Regulus's unseen blade of wind sheared through his left arm like butter. Blood sprayed, his severed limb thudding wetly against the stone.
"Subaru!!"
Beatrice cried out in panic, clinging tighter to him.
His grip completely failed on Emilia, and her unconscious body fell to the ground. His face drained pale, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes.
He staggered back, retreating, to just about evade a flick of Regulus's hand, every instinct howling.
Two Archbishops. Wrath and Greed. One untouchable, one overly persistent.
Is this loop already over?! I can't fight both… hell, I can't fight him at all…
I can't get Emilia back, and keeping the two of them away from that little girl, Tina, is definitely not easy either, why, damn it, is nothing on my side today?!
Regulus's arms tightened around Emilia's limp form, picking her back off the ground before he brushed her silver hair back with a mockery of tenderness.
"Emilia—shit!!"
Subaru's cry cracked.
Regulus tilted his head, golden eyes glinting.
"Ah, Emilia, is it? A lovely name, indeed."
"You… you didn't even—"
"—That's enough."
The voice Subaru wanted most.
Gojo didn't arrive—he simply was. One instant absent, the next a figure standing in the plaza, hands drooping loosely at his sides, fingers twitching with restrained intent.
The Six Eyes swept over everything in an instant—the frenzied mob, Sirius simmering with Authority, Regulus clutching Emilia, Subaru clutching his stump.
"…Gojo-sensei…"
Subaru exhaled, collapsing into relief.
Gojo gave him the briefest glance, then turned his full attention on the Archbishop of Greed.
"Long time no see—" his grin spread slow, sharp. "Regulus~!"
The name dripped venom. Regulus's jaw clenched, his fists curling tighter and tighter with every passing heartbeat. He remembered. The insolent man who wouldn't stay down. The fool who clawed his way back even after being shredded apart again and again.
And yet—he inhaled, exhaled, pressing the fury flat beneath a brittle calm.
"Yes. If it isn't the fool… Satoru Gojo. That was the name, was it not?"
"Glad to see you haven't forgotten me." Gojo tapped his own cheek. "Looking as pathetic as ever~"
"You… you—you you!"
Regulus's lips trembled, then pressed thin.
"As expected from a barbarian—no sense of grace, no appreciation for subtlety! I found amusement in your thrashing, nothing more. Despite my distaste for fighting—ah, the irony, being forced to stain my hands with such undignified violence—I still managed to glean a moment's entertainment. Which, I must emphasize, was a gift. From me, to you. You should consider yourself grateful."
Gojo's smile didn't flicker. Not even once.
His gaze drifted toward Sirius, whose chains seethed as she twitched under the twin weight of Gojo's calmness and Regulus's contempt.
Regulus sneered.
"Sirius. Is your incompetence so thorough you cannot even bring these two beneath your Authority? Pathetic, truly."
Her teeth ground so loud it was audible. Even then, she couldn't speak a word in return.
"Ahhh. So that's the itch I've been feeling…" Gojo muttered.
The atmosphere snapped taut, heavy enough that even the air felt brittle.
Both Archbishops, in eerie unison, drew their black Gospels. Pages whispered, fluttered, as if the paper itself breathed. Gojo's eyes narrowed—every sense telling him this was the moment to strike. But not here. Not with civilians clustered like kindling. A real fight with Regulus here would be a massacre.
The books snapped shut together.
Regulus spoke first, voice smooth as a blade dipped in oil:
"Our free time ends here. You should be grateful. Not to the Gospel—paper is only paper, after all—but to me, who follows it faithfully."
His eyes cut toward Gojo, pupils narrowing like knives.
"Even you must understand—yes, even a brute such as yourself—that a battle here favors me in every way. I could, at any moment, seize what is mine and obliterate what is not. And yet I choose not to. That is mercy. That is restraint. That is benevolence. That is, me."
He smirked, dipped his chin toward Emilia, then pivoted sharply, cloak snapping, Emilia in his arms.
"Now then. We have work to do, Sirius."
"Rhhhhh—DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU, DAMNYOUDAMNYOUDAMNYOU!!"
Sirius shrieked, spitting curses as she spun away in the opposite direction.
Silence crashed over the plaza in their wake.
And Gojo finally thought he could let out a breath of relief.
Until—
"GIVE HER BACK, DAMN IT—!!"
Subaru lunged, rage breaking every boundary.
Gojo's hand snapped out, dragging him back with impressive force. Subaru spun on him, confusion curdling into fury.
"Why?! Why the hell would you let them walk away with her!?"
Gojo didn't flinch.
"Think, Subaru. I can't defeat Regulus. All I can do is stall. And if we fought here? Hundreds, maybe thousands, would die before the dust settled. You know that."
Subaru froze, teeth gritted, eyes blazing.
"Are you so focused on Emilia that you'd sacrifice every innocent in this city for a slim chance of saving her now?"
His stomach lurched. He had no answer.
Gojo's voice softened, almost casual.
"You can get her back soon. He didn't say he'd kill her, did he? Just…" His mouth twisted. "…make her his wife."
Subaru's rage flickered, stuttered, confusion bleeding in.
"…You… heard that?"
Gojo blinked, realizing his slip-up, then smacked Subaru on the back hard enough to jolt him forward.
"Pfft—what'd I say? Nothing. Now go pick up that arm. Ferris can reattach it."
Turning away, his Six Eyes caught motion.
A child. Blonde hair, wide eyes. Chains dangling loose at her wrists.
Tina.
No longer bound. Just staring, as if in awe.
"—The hell…?"
Gojo murmured, scratching the side of his head.