The Honored One's Life in Another World

by Brright1

Summary:

A calm breeze whisked its way through the medieval city, the sounds of those that live in this foreign land chattering and laughing away akin to a musical symphony in the air.

It was peaceful– it was calm and almost serene despite the noise, and on one of the many cobble-slabbed streets opposite to where the dragon-hitched wagon's parole stands a young man of peculiar attire.

He stood tall, firm– almost like a statue, his white, otherworldly hair blowing in the wind and resulting in a few odd glances being sent his way.

“Eh…?”

He blinked– Once, twice– thrice–

Before finally daring to move as he angled his dark-tinted sunglasses downward to allow his eyes, a rich, sky blue with flecks of various brighter and darker tints of color painted into them to have a look around at these unfamiliar lands.

“Weell– This certainly wasn’t on one of my bingo cards...”

Chapter 1: A New World

A calm breeze whisked its way through the medieval city, the sounds of those who lived in this foreign land chattering and laughing away like a musical symphony in the air.

It was peaceful—it was calm and almost serene despite the noise. And on one of the many cobble-slabbed streets, opposite a dragon-hitched wagon’s parole stand, stood a young man in peculiar attire.

He stood tall, firm—almost like a statue. His white, otherworldly hair blew in the wind, earning him a few odd glances.

“Eh…?”

He blinked—once, twice—thrice—

Before finally daring to move, angling his dark-tinted sunglasses slightly to let his eyes—rich sky blue, flecked with various shades of lighter and darker color—take in these unfamiliar lands.

“Well—this certainly wasn’t on my bingo card…”

The young man murmured under his breath. As he glanced around, he noticed something strange: there were quite literally zero curses, or even traces of cursed energy, in the air.

If that alone wasn’t enough to clue him in on what had happened, then the presence of something else—something unfamiliar yet tangible—certainly was.

Alright so... there’s mana in the air. Strange animal-looking folk roaming the streets and...

As he observed everyone else—and then himself—he noticed they all had something in common.

His Six Eyes, something many considered a gift from God, gave him all the information he needed. And what he saw was—a Gate, and an Od.

The Gate flowed at everyone’s center like a mystical, magical whirlpool, storing mana in the body and allowing its release in various forms.

Beside it, the Od resided. The information his eyes granted him told him that this was essentially one’s soul—one’s life energy.

Alright… so this all basically equates to one thing...

“I, Satoru Gojo, have been transmigrated into another world!”

---

Just moments prior, he had been roaming the streets of Jujutsu High. Then he blinked—watching in shock as the very fabric of the world crumbled before his eyes. A strange ringing, almost painful, jolted through his head.

And then, he opened his eyes to this new world. Now, Satoru Gojo was aimlessly wandering cobblestone streets.

If I was gonna get sent to a whole other world, then Suguru could’ve at least joined me. Damn it.

Satoru let out a long, exasperated breath, scratching the side of his head.

Then he glanced down at a stall—and a familiar-looking basket of fruit in front of it.

It’s strange… The people speak Japanese, but the writing is something I’ve never seen before. Not that it’ll take me long to learn a new language—I am Satoru Gojo, after all!

“Uh… ah right… I am completely broke.”

The man behind the stall immediately leaned forward, the veins on his forehead bulging.

“Then get the hell outta here!!”

---

Right… So I’ve learned a few interesting things about this place. I’m currently in the Kingdom of Lugunica—more specifically, the Royal Capital. Though what to do with that information… no clue.

“...Especially 'cause it’s definitely common knowledge.”

Satoru sighed, then spotted a trio of suspicious-looking individuals—one large, one skinny, and one small.

They really do look like your average thieves straight out of a manga… but who am I to judge based on appearances?

“Well, well, well—look what we have here!” the largest man of the three hummed.

“We’re feelin’ real nice today, so just cough up all you got and we’ll let you on your way,” the smallest said, grinning.

“Yo~ Are you really sure you wanna do this?” Satoru said with a calm smile, glaring at them. “Yikes… Just how far have I fallen? Special Grade Sorcerer—or well… former—reduced to being threatened by no-name criminals.”

“Huh?!” the skinny one tensed up, scowling. Then—

SHINK—
A pair of daggers flashed, catching the sunlight.
“The hell did you say, basta—?!”

But Satoru had already moved. Though to them, it was as if he hadn’t.

In the next moment, he stood beside the thin man, casting a shadow as he towered over him. One palm casually rested on the man's shoulder.

“You say something?”

If that wasn’t enough to terrify them—

The sight of Satoru’s pearlescent azure gaze, glowing faintly over the edge of his sunglasses, would have been.

And it was.

“A-Ah…” The thug didn’t even dare to move. He didn’t swing his daggers. It was like a rabbit facing a lion.

Mm… smarter than he looks, ain’t he?~

Satoru patted his shoulder before returning his hand to his pocket. “Wise choice.” His tone dipped slightly darker—then returned to normal. “Scurry along now~ Don’t let me catch you doing this again~!”

The trio immediately scurried off without a word.

“Hm… well, I was almost hoping they’d do something… But oh well—”

Satoru chuckled to himself.

Then—

“Are you alright?”
A voice beckoned from behind him—etched with purity, and a hint of curiosity.

..?!

Satoru’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, immediately turning toward the voice.

Crimson hair. Cerulean eyes. Sword at his waist.

Hell, even the rays of sunlight had moved to spotlight him. More importantly…

I didn’t even sense him until he spoke. That’s never happened before.

“Oh. Yes, I’m fi—” Satoru paused.

W-What the hell is that?! Divine Blessings of… Gah! Information overload—holy!

He flicked his sunglasses back up with a grimace.

“...Is everything alright?” the man repeated, confusion masking his handsome features.

This guy… he’s strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve seen…

“Ah! Yep! Perfectly fine. Those people that fled were trying to rob me, so I gave them a little fright,” Satoru said, nodding, face returning to normal.

“Ah, most respectable indeed,” the crimson-haired man replied with a nod.

“What’s your name, by the way? I’m Satoru. Satoru Gojo.”

Did… I say something wrong?

“A-Ah… apologies, Satoru Gojo. It’s just been a long time since I’ve met someone who didn’t know me. My name is Reinhard van Astrea—otherwise known as the Sword Saint. Though, I don’t really consider myself worthy of such a title.”

Was that… relief? Joy?

Ah. I did hear talk about a ‘Sword Saint’. Thought it was just myth, or some ancient tale. But wow… Could he, like—tone down all of that? Just looking at him above the glasses is giving me eye burn.

“Your attire is certainly unusual. Funny, actually—a situation like this happened not too long ago. You wouldn’t happen to be searching for someone, would you?”

Hm? What’s he talking about?

“Eh? Nah—”

Reinhard’s smile held, though something shifted—seriousness. “Apologies. Nice meeting you, Satoru, but I have somewhere I need to be. Quickly.”

Satoru noticed the shift, and nodded.

“I’ll come, then! Oh, and knock off the 'san', Reinhard. I’ve heard enough honorifics to last a lifetime—it’s just annoying at this point.”

Reinhard looked at him, several seconds passing, before he nodded.

“Very well, Satoru. You may call me Reinhard.”

“Let’s go then!” Satoru hummed, grinning.

He almost reminds me of Suguru in a way… funny…

Satoru wasn’t sure what he was feeling—maybe it was realization. On one hand, he no longer had to deal with the Gojo Clan’s baggage. On the other… he might never see his best friend again.

He let out a sigh as he sprinted alongside Reinhard—

The two hopping rooftop to rooftop at impressive speed, headed toward—

The slums...?

---

In the slums...

“G-Grh!”

Each slash of the dagger came close—too close. Natsuki Subaru barely blocked them by a hair’s breadth.

But there was no opening. No time to counter.

SWISH—

The jet-black dagger, streaked with purple, was raised overhead.

It was unblockable. Undodgeable.

In a moment, fate would repeat—and Subaru would once again feel it tear through his flesh—

Then—

A shard of ice struck the woman’s side, Emilia struck at a distance with magic, playing the perfect support role and more importantly stopping what would have been a fatal strike.

“Nice cover—!”

Subaru shouted, crimson lines etching across his skin, staining his clothing.

“Gah—! Then… how about this?!”

He moved, retracting the giant mace to his side—

A feint. His leg sprang outward, aiming for the woman’s ribs.

“—Wha?!”

However, she blocked it effortlessly, a single hand catching his shin mid-kick and holding him in place.

Fear..

That was what filled Subaru’s face as the dagger’s edge glistened in the moonlight. Would he have to do this all over again?

Thankfully, fate had other plans it seemed for now…

“That’s enough.”

A strangely familiar, calming voice filled the air, freezing everyone in place.

BOOOM—

The ceiling above them caved in with a thunderous crash. Smoke and splintered wood fell to the ground.

“Well then…”

From the shadows, a silhouette emerged, shrouded in mist. Each step was firm, radiating confidence—radiating power.

Unrivaled, would be the most simple term..

“That certainly was a close call… but I’m glad we made it in time.”

It was the Sword Saint, Reinhard, his casual smile never faltering.

Elsa, however, merely looked on with utter indifference.

“…By ‘we’, you mean—”

SWISH—

A leg shot out and struck Elsa in the stomach, splintering the wooden floor beneath her.

Her body snapped inward before being flung across the tavern, crashing into a nearby wall.

“Yeah~ He’s not alone.”

The white haired-man grinned, his foot settling back onto the ground.

---

Subaru stared at the two figures, letting out a long, exasperated breath of relief..

But something else caught his attention.

Who’s he...? Do sunglasses exist here!?

“No need to worry, Subaru. Sorry for being late.”

THUD—

After a moment, the pieces of wood that had collapsed atop the burrowed hole where Elsa resided trembled.

Then they were severed, diced into thin strands of wood before she emerged from the darkness.

"Oh..?" The white-haired man hummed.

Subaru felt almost inclined to stare at him, strangely, though because of that, he watched the way the man's grin only grew wider when Elsa revealed herself once more.

A fleeting moment of silence, before—

"Black hair... black clothes... and a peculiar blade unique to the northern provinces. There’s no mistaking those characteristics. You are the 'Bowel Hunter,'" Reinhard said swiftly, not even bothering to ask, as if he already knew.

"What kind of evil nickname even is that?!" Subaru commented with a grimace. "It derived from her sadistic style of killing where she’d disembowel her opponents."

Elsa stepped forward, licking her lips. "Yes... good. A Knight among Knights, the Sword Saint himself... yes~ How fun..!"

I’m being ignored... Even after landing the first blow, she only wants to fight Reinhard? I mean, the dude is insane alright, but I have my pride.

"Sorry, Reinhard." Satoru finally spoke up, which got the attention of everyone awake in the tavern.

"But I really don’t like being ignored, so I’ll be sure to show her the error of her ways..."

Surprisingly, Reinhard gave little protest to this, as if already aware of Satoru's might.

"Very well, Satoru. I would prefer her alive for questioning, but if it’s too much, then worry not."

Ohoo... I can certainly do that... I can already tell she ain't all that.

Elsa moved—quicker than quick, faster than faster. The gap between them closed in an instant—

"Don't worry about me."

Satoru stepped forward, merely once.

Then, he shifted—his entire body rotating to the side to avoid the dagger’s sharpness.

"Missed me~"

THWACK—

A heavy blow struck her face, the shockwave rippling through her entire body and sending her into a skid backward. The warm, familiar sensation of blood trickled down her face as she lifted her head from her low stance—

Satoru had already moved by that point, the sole of his foot launching into her face for a sudden follow-up that sent the Bowel Hunter flying toward the wall.

Oh..? Yeah, good~ This wouldn't be any fun for me if you were just a ragdoll after all!

She recovered, flipping upright and propelling herself off of the ground, then the wall—then another—and another—as she sprinted around the tavern’s border at neck-breaking speed.

Before suddenly dashing in at the sight of an opening, seemingly homing in as if she were a missile.

Her dagger thrust toward his flank, which he hadn’t even seen coming...

It’s checkmate.

Elsa mused to herself. Though her expression faltered in the very next moment as her dagger suddenly stopped, just an inch from his neck.

"What—" A barrier...?

Satoru glanced around the corner of his eye, a small grin on his face before he instantly pivoted and gripped her forearm, which was wielding the dagger.

"It’s not as simple as you're thinking~ Though this does, in fact, mean I’ve only been dodging you for style points..."

He leaned forward, his deep cerulean pupils locking onto her own, which were pitch-black in hue, accompanied by a grin.

"You feel me? Don’t take it personally though... just hope you’re stronger in your next life, alright?"

SMASH—

Her body was then lifted off the ground, shifted mid-air, and slammed spine-first against the wooden surface.

The heavy impact alone shattered the ground and caused the entire tavern to tremble momentarily.

K-Kuagh!? This...-

Then, a kick to her body sent her flying aimlessly through the wall and outside.

This bastard isn't even the Sword Saint..! Yet... I can't even touch him!

Satoru stepped forward, stepping over scattered pieces of rubble and debris before pointing his index finger directly toward Elsa.

Rich—intense—overwhelming crimson...

Pure crimson lit up the surface like the sun itself, growing, manifesting—brighter—larger—more intensely—

Elsa felt one thing. Death. If this touches her, she will die.

If this hits me—!!

"Ah." Satoru clicked his tongue. The red instantly dissipated into nothingness. "Well, it would either kill her or blow her way off... though I’d also destroy a portion of this place, which Reinhard and also the uh... people wouldn’t like."

"It’s your lucky day! Reinhard did ask me to keep you alive after all," Satoru said with a smile, tilting his head.

He blinked. Then, a huge mound of smoke manifested along with the debris...

Elsa Granhiert was gone, like the wind.

Huh... Ah... that was dumb of me, wasn't it?

Satoru clicked his tongue before rubbing his nape and turning away.

A tad annoyed at that... though I can still sense a person’s presence. It’s not to the same degree as it was on Earth... I guess because Mana is different from Cursed Energy after all.

He shrugged.

Chapter 2: An Interesting First Day

Satoru let out a slightly annoyed sigh, his eyes fixated on his palm as he made his way back to the tavern.

I failed Reversal Red again... and let that lady get away. Mmm... what is it going to take for me to understand this? I've got Blue down to a T, but I still don't get it!

"Well..." He glanced up from his palm and surveyed the slums surrounding him. It probably would've been really annoying to explain the property damage if it had actually worked, so maybe it's for the best.

---

Sitting over the unconscious, large body of Old Man Rom, Subaru watched in awe as the spectral haze of mana surrounding Emilia's palms slowly mended the torn flesh, knitting it back together and closing it at impressive speeds—unlike anything the Japanese boy had ever seen before.

That's seriously cool. Surely, whenever my training arc hits, I'll learn stuff like that too...

He then tilted his head to the side, toward Reinhard.

"So, your friend—will he be alright?"

The Sword Saint peered toward Subaru, nodding serenely.

"Satoru...?" He paused, brow furrowing.

"Ah... there's something different about him for sure. Though I can't quite put my finger on it, I am certain he'll be fine."

As if on cue, an otherworldly red hue flooded through the open gaps in the wall, lighting up the night sky with vermilion before vanishing not a moment later.

"W-What was that?!"

It seemed Subaru wasn’t the only one shocked by the spectacle. Emilia’s eyes were wide, Felt’s were wider—though, surprisingly, the one with the widest eyes was the Sword Saint himself.

"That... magic... that's... that's not—" He paused, closing his eyes to regain his composure.

Huh, it must’ve been seriously cool if it’s got this guy gawking over it...

Little did Subaru know, Reinhard wasn’t gawking over its power—which, albeit immense—he was reacting to something else. Something different.

---

A few moments passed.

Satoru appeared once more, standing atop a pile of rubble that had collapsed when Elsa was launched through the wall.

"Yo. I’m back. She sorta got away, so that’s my bad..."

Watching as the white-haired man slid down the rubble with his hands in his pockets, Reinhard spoke.

"Worry not, Satoru. I imagine the outcome would’ve been no different had I traded blows with her."

Jeez. Humble, much?

"So... it's all over now?" Subaru muttered, his gaze fixated on Emilia as he reached out to catch her when she stumbled from exhaustion.

Emilia seemed to notice this and blinked.

"W-Why are you staring at me?"

"A-Ah." He coughed. "Well, it’s just... you still have your arms, legs, and head!"

"Eh? Of course I do... don’t say such scary things."

Clasping his hands together, Subaru nodded.

"Right! I also have my arms, and I haven’t been stabbed in the back—nor is there a hole in my gut!"

Emilia raised a brow, tilting her head. "You talk like you've experienced those things before?"

"Agh... my manners!" Subaru hummed, shifting into a peculiar stance with a finger pointed toward the gaping hole in the ceiling.

"Natsuki Subaru is my name! The one who tried to get back your Insignia and then fought against a heinous villain to help you. Wouldn't this mean you should repay me in kind?"

Emilia recoiled, stepping back in confusion, though his words were fair.

"A-Alright! I understand. If it's within my power, then..."

"Then in that case... I have one request. I'd like to know your name." His tone deepened.

This resulted in Emilia almost bursting into laughter before eventually nodding.

"Emilia. My name is Emilia. Thank you for helping me, Subaru."

Eesh... what kind of world have I been summoned into...?  Satoru thought to himself, though he found his gaze fixed on Subaru for a while longer than expected.

A blush crept up Subaru's cheeks before he coughed and turned away from Emilia, peering toward Satoru and Reinhard.

"Thanks, you two! You really, like, saved our skin... like—literally!"

Reinhard just chuckled at his straightforwardness.

"I stumbled across Satoru here and felt something happening at the slums, so we came as fast as we could."

Satoru, however, didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes were wide—not that anyone could see that.

Eh... I mean, I already got the vibe that this guy was from Japan, but...

Like the wind, Satoru flickered, vanishing from Subaru’s vision one moment and reappearing only a few inches away the next.

"Huh... that’s funny..."

This guy... he's got a ton of Cursed Energy...!!

"Eh...? What—something on my face?" Subaru replied, caught off guard and flustered.

"Mmm... well, something like that. I’ll talk to you about it later."

With a nod, Satoru’s index finger tapped against the center of Subaru's forehead.

In the next moment...

There was darkness.

Catching his unconscious body as it slumped forward, Satoru glanced toward the shocked Emilia.

"He’s pretty injured, right? Look at him. And you probably can't properly heal him right now either, I imagine."

Emilia gave a small, hesitant nod.

"It’s for his own good. He’ll be in a hell of a lot of pain as soon as he calms down."

Satoru said swiftly, picking up Subaru’s body and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"'Hell of a'?" Emilia muttered, raising a brow.

"Eh? Oh... don’t worry about it..." Satoru coughed, glancing over to Reinhard, who stepped forward.

"Emilia-sama, may I ask... what is your relationship with Subaru?"

Emilia tilted her head. "An... acquaintance. I don’t believe I’ve met him before."

Reinhard peered over at the unconscious Subaru. "He said he was looking for you and that he had something to give you."

"Ah, well... I don’t actually have a place to live, you know? Real new around these parts... Could I bring Subaru along with me to one of your places?" Satoru asked casually.

Reinhard, ever-benevolent, was quick to answer,
"I’d be glad to take you both to my house as guests."

Emilia shook her head.
"No... I’ll take you both with me, if that’s alright. I have things I’d like to ask Subaru anyway. More importantly, what will become of those two?" she asked, clearly referring to Rom and Felt.

"I cannot overlook what they’ve done, officially speaking. But, well... I am off duty today."

Felt peered over at Emilia.
"I... I’m sorry. You saved my life, so I’ll obviously return what I took from you."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the shining Insignia and held it out to Emilia.

"Make sure to keep it hidden so something like this won’t happen again."

Emilia reached out to take back her stolen Insignia, but her loose grip caused it to fall from her hand and slide to Satoru’s feet.

"...R-Right..." Emilia muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Satoru didn’t even bother reaching down, instead pulling the Insignia into his grasp with a light, pearlescent force that flowed around the outline of his hand.

Grasping it, he watched the way it dimly shone.

Neat little gem. Don’t understand almost dying for it, though.

With a shrug, he reached out to give it back to Emilia. Then—

A hand clasped his forearm—yes, he had already turned off Infinity, though not to the point where it was painful, just firm.

"...Reinhard?" Satoru mused, a raised brow. What the hell's got him so shaken up...?

"How... Satoru... ahem, apologies, but I’ll need you to come with me."

"Eh? Well... I guess that's fine. What’s the big deal, though?" Satoru asked.

"That, I will explain soon."

Satoru just shrugged, glancing toward Subaru’s unconscious body, which he still held, before sighing.

Then, he handed back the Insignia and placed Subaru’s body down next to Emilia.

"I imagine he’d rather be with you than me," Satoru muttered.

Was excited to teach him how to use Cursed Energy. He's definitely got potential.

Reinhard nodded.

---

Hours later, inside a carriage...

Reinhard still had yet to explain what was going on. With every question Satoru asked, he merely insisted he keep following.

Could it be Reversal Red? Maybe he's just curious about what it is. Not that I can blame him—I am pretty amazing.

"Ahem..." Reinhard coughed, clearly purposefully.
"I do apologize for having to do this, Satoru-sama... it's just not something that can be spoken of in public."

"...Ah, so you're finally going to explain?—also, keep the honorifics to a minimum!" Satoru responded, raising a brow.

He nodded.
"You, Satoru-sa... Satoru, are the fifth and final candidate for the throne of Lugunica."

Ah. I see...

"..."

"...?"

"Wait, WHAT?!" he suddenly yelled out, almost jumping out of the seat and lunging toward Reinhard, who sat opposite him.

"H... How...?!"

Satoru let out a breath, returning to his seat before continuing.

"Firstly, I have literally... zero knowledge of this entire world. I know that we're in Lugunica, and that’s about it."

"Secondly, I’ve been here for not even one day. I can’t have done anything that should put me on such a pedestal—"

It's not like I wanna lay low or anything, not with all my power... but if I have to talk and please some stinkin’ old ass men again, then count me the hell out!

Reinhard remained silent for a moment, a look of understanding coating his features before he spoke.

"Yes, but the red glow of the Insignia appeared as soon as you touched it. Which, in turn, means that you've been chosen by the dragon."

Oh, I might have to go find this dragon and give it a piece of my mind, alright...

He grimaced, leaning back on his seat and rubbing his crystalline eyes behind his sunglasses.

"So... I don't exactly have a choice, right?"

Reinhard shook his head.
"I apologize, but no."

Truthfully, the absolute last thing he wanted right now—probably behind straight-up dying—was to become king. Just the idea of having to uphold such dignity and speak in such a posh way was incredibly off-putting. All it did was remind him of his time in the Gojo clan.

Plus those annoying-ass elders in Jujutsu High constantly nagging me... Argh. It's not like I can just ruin my chances on purpose when he’s giving me that look, either—!

Satoru sighed.
"Mmmm... alright, I guess... Firstly, we're friends from now on, Reinhard. So no honorifics, and stop apologizing. I can see how strong you are, and it's giving me eye burn, but acting like that’ll just have people walk over you—even with that badass title of yours!"

He pointed, wagging his index finger toward the shocked Reinhard.
"Friends?"
"V... Very well, then. I shall do as you say, Satoru."

Satoru grinned, pleased with his words, before he closed his eyes.
"Though I’m literally on my own, so the chances aren’t very good off rip..."

Then, they shot open from the sound of the rich wooden boards below subtly quaking from pressure.
"Eh?"

He wasn’t expecting to lay eyes upon a bowing Reinhard, his head to the floor and one knee lowered.

"I may not be able to live up to your expectations... but if you'd be willing to have me, then... I, the Sword Saint of Lugunica, hereby swear fealty to the fifth candidate for the throne, Satoru Gojo, and I promise to stand alongside him until the day he succeeds."

What the fuck... I'd be lying if I didn't say this was seriously embarrassing. Well, it's not like I can say no after that...

"A-Ahem... Then I, fifth candidate for the throne of Lugunica, Satoru Gojo, welcome Reinhard van Astrea with open arms as my knight."

I’ve never been fond of formality, but I never said I was bad at it.

Chapter 3: To the Estate

[SWISH] — [SWISH] — [THUD!]

Satoru's foot slammed into the grassy field, his fist clenched at his hip. He pivoted just in time, narrowly dodging a dark-gloved fist that carved through the air beside his cheek.

"Urk—!?"

This guy..!

Reinhard surged forward, his leg slicing through the wind in a wide, diagonal arc—its speed bordering the absurd. [SWOOSH!] In response, Satoru vaulted upward, his body coiling midair like a spring. With a twist, he brought his leg crashing down toward Reinhard’s shoulder.

But—

A hand snapped up, stopping the strike cold as if through instinct.

Fingers clamped around Satoru’s shin. Then, with effortless strength, Reinhard hurled him through the air at neck-breaking speed.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m the one with Infinity or if he is... I can’t even touch him!

Satoru twisted mid-flight, slamming both feet into the ground. Earth exploded beneath him as he skidded back, carving two ragged trails through the mud and turf.

[STEP] — The Sword Saint moved.

—The space between them vanished in an instant.

"!!"
Satoru’s eyes widened. A shadow overtook his face—Reinhard’s fist, already inches from landing.

It stopped.

A fraction from contact, the fist trembled against an unseen force—Infinity manifesting like an invisible wall that saved him from embarrassment. 

After a long breath, Satoru exhaled.

"..That's my loss yet again."

Reinhard straightened, adopting a relaxed stance, his smile easy.

"You’re incredibly skilled, Satoru. I'm sure I'd be at a loss if not for my Divine Protection of Initiative, and the Divine Protection of First Attack Immunity, and Second Attack Immunity, and also Precognition, and—"

Yeah, yeah... I get it. It's BLINDING, dude.. literally—

"—And also the—"

Satoru stepped forward, cutting him off.
"I know, Reinhard. You tell me after every spar. You don’t have to sugarcoat it." He glanced to the side.
"Honestly... I've been needing to fight someone again like this for a while anyway."

What I’m not saying is—being overpowered like this? It’s exhilarating.
This has never happened before. Not with Suguru. Not with anyone.
It’s amazing, thrilling!

"Satoru?" Reinhard raised an eyebrow, snapping Satoru out of his thoughts.

"Ah— ahem, yeah. Let’s call it here." He dusted himself off, trying to sound casual. "I’ve still got to catch up on this world’s history and all that, so... later."

Ugh. Nothing kills the post-battle thrill like diving into some dusty books... but hey, duty calls.

---

Satoru sat with one leg casually crossed over the other, a thick book resting in his hand. Around him, towering shelves stretched endlessly in every direction—rows upon rows of ancient tomes and manuscripts rising like the ribs of some vast, forgotten beast. The library loomed above, cavernous and quiet, its sheer scale swallowing even the sound of turning pages despite the fact it was deathly silent.

“Hmm...” Satoru hummed, clicking his tongue. His index finger tapped rhythmically against the open page as he mulled over its contents.

I’ve probably crammed enough knowledge to pass for a functioning local in this world… which means—

It’s time to hunt.

For what, exactly?
For recruits. For the 'Gojo Camp'!

He closed the book with a soft thud, placing it neatly on the desk before rising to his feet. Without hesitation, he strode out of the library, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous silence.

The hallways he passed through were ornate—gilded trim, marble floors, tapestries and chandeliers—a palace masquerading as a home. Nobles, attendants, and knights nodded respectfully as he walked by, each greeting him with silent reverence.

They shouldn’t know I’ve been chosen for the Royal Selection yet...
Then again, this feels like Reinhard’s doing. He probably just told them to treat me like they would him. Typical.

He tapped the stem of his sunglasses, adjusting them with a tilt before his gaze sharpened—focus snapping back into place.

“I’m not looking for quantity…” he muttered to himself. “Even one person is enough—so long as they’re the best of the best.”

The one I’m most curious about is probably with that “Emilia” girl’s camp… Subaru, was it?
The way he was acting around her before—it’s obvious where his loyalties lie. My chances of pulling him over? Pretty much zero I'd imagine.

A shame, really... I wanted to see that bundle of Cursed Energy he’s carrying actually put to use.
Still gonna teach him though.

He smirked to himself at the thought, hands slipping into his pockets as he continued down the hall.

---

Before long, he stepped into his personal quarters within the Astrea Estate—spacious, easily one of the largest rooms in the entire manor. The moment he crossed the threshold, it felt like the room itself shimmered in response, sunlight dancing across polished floors and ornate furnishings.

"I’ve walked in here a dozen times already," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at his lips, "and it’s still impressive... Never saw anything this grand, not even in the Gojo Clan."

He dropped into the desk chair with a satisfied sigh, kicking his feet up onto the polished surface like he owned the place—which, at this point, might not be far from the truth.

Now for the hard part—finding recruits.
Besides the folks already here, and maybe a few I can count on one hand, I don’t know anyone who’s impressive enough to make the cut.

His head tilted lazily from side to side, knuckle pressed to his chin as he let out a thoughtful hum.

.. Mmm.. scratch that, I actually do..
That orange-haired thief girl from before—she might actually be a fit for the Gojo Camp. I didn’t get to see her fight, but the Six Eyes don't lie.. she’s got a Divin e  Protection. And that alone puts her in rare company. Other than Reinhard—who for some reason is hoarding hundreds of the damn things—I haven’t seen anyone else with even one.

"My intellect honestly scares even me sometimes..." he smirked. "Now then—unless she got herself thrown in a cell for stealing again, which I can just ask Reinhard about—she should still be in the slums."

Satoru nodded to himself, pushing up from the chair with a stretch before drifting toward the tall glass window. Outside, the sun hovered just above the horizon, casting long golden rays across the sprawling landscape—a picture of calm before whatever storm tomorrow could possibly bring.

"I’ll head there tomorrow," he murmured, watching the light fade. "Reinhard’ll probably tag along anyway… whether I ask him to or not."

His smirk faded slightly as a thought crossed his mind.

Elsa Granhiert... right. She strikes me as the type to hold a grudge.
And getting your ass handed to you? Yeah, that’s usually grounds for one.

Still, he doubted she’d return any time soon—especially not alone. Not after what he did to her.

He clicked his tongue softly.

"Guess I should keep my guard up, just in case," he muttered. His eyes narrowed, gaze sharp again. "But without any weird curse techniques in this world..."

"I'm untouchable."

---

Several moments of silence passed before a knock echoed through the room. The presence behind the door was unmistakably familiar.

“Reinhard? Come in.”

The door opened with a quiet click, and the crimson-haired Sword Saint stepped inside, offering Satoru a respectful nod.

“So, what brings you here?”

Reinhard tilted his head slightly, pausing before speaking.

“I thought it might be… convenient.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow. “That one of your weird powers again?” he joked, smirking—though the silence that followed gave him pause.
“Seriously?—”

Satoru shook his head, cutting himself off. “..More importantly… do you know where ‘Emilia’ and ‘Subaru’ are staying?”

The Sword Saint hummed thoughtfully. “Lady Emilia and Subaru should be at the 'Roswaal Estate', up north.”

“Mmm… could you arrange a carriage there? And let them know I’m coming. That’d probably be best.”

Reinhard tilted his head again, as if on the verge of asking something—but instead simply nodded.

“Very well, Satoru.”

“I’ll be going alone, by the way. Won’t be gone too long—just a few days at most.”

That made Reinhard hesitate, visibly displeased.

“C’mon, Reinhard,” Satoru said, leaning back with a relaxed grin. “You of all people know how tough I am. How many can you name that could actually beat me in a fight, huh?”
Besides you.

Reinhard said nothing at first, but finally gave a slow nod.

“It shall be done. When do you plan to leave?”

A smirk curled back onto Satoru’s face as he rested his chin on his knuckles.

“As soon as possible.”

---

Inside the carriage, en route to the Roswaal Estate...

Yeah. I changed my mind, what you gonna do about it?
That whole “recruitment mission” can wait just a bit longer.

"Instead... I’m more interested in that Subaru guy—the one from my world."

It still felt strange. Two people from Japan, isekai’d into the same fantasy world? He didn’t know when Subaru had arrived, or how, but the coincidence was too big to ignore.

"Regardless… that bundle of Cursed Energy he’s sitting on is just rotting."
He narrowed his eyes, determination flashing in them. "And I—Satoru Gojo, humble as ever—refuse to let that kind of potential go to waste!"

With a smirk, he crossed one leg over the other and rested his chin on his knuckles.

“So, I’ll be teaching him. No magic. None of that mana nonsense. Just the real stuff.”

His tone dipped slightly, more thoughtful.

“He doesn't have a Cursed Technique. If he did, it’d be second nature by now—like breathing. I would’ve seen it the moment I arrived...”

He paused.

“... These eyes don't lie after all."

Satoru shrugged, leaning back with a beady grin before bursting into a low, almost villainous laugh.

Outside the cabin, the carriage driver stiffened, gripping the reins a little tighter—eyes wide as the sound of muffled laughter echoed behind him.

Chapter 4: Is he actually a prodigy?

Bright midday sun bathed the rooftop of Jujutsu High in white-hot light.

Gojo flopped onto the concrete, lounging against the low parapet while Suguru leaned on the chain-link fence, arms folded.

Satoru yawned.
"Another cursed spirit exorcised, another demonstration of my unrivaled awesomeness. Kinda boring, huh?"

"You say boring- I say peaceful." Suguru’s tone was dry. "Some of us appreciate a quiet campus you know."

Gojo tilted his head. "Peaceful? We just leveled half a warehouse. You’re welcome, by the way."

Suguru shot him a mock glower. "I handled the swarm while you chased the shiny one. Typical."

Gojo shrugged. "Flashy curses match my vibe. Besides, you love cleaning up after me—admit it."

A chuckle. "Hardly. I’m just saving the repair budget from your ego."

Wind rattled the fence. For a moment, the rooftop was quiet.

Satoru broke the silence, peering up from behind his shades.
"Ever think about life after Jujutsu High? We’ll be even more unstoppable than we are now, might just have to make a super-special grade class for us."

"Power isn’t the point," Suguru said, eyes following a group of first-years below. "It’s how we use it."

"Yeah, yeah—protect the weak, maintain balance. Still gonna be fun."

Suguru’s gaze lingered on the students. "Fun for you. I’m more interested in ending the cycle altogether."

Gojo grinned. "Deep thoughts for a teenager. Smile more—ups your cool factor by at least twenty-five percent."

"That a scientific fact?"

"Gojo fact. Strongest fact there is."

Suguru’s competitive spark lit. He straightened, raising an index finger.
"Fine. Training bout tomorrow. If you beat me without Limitless, dinner’s on me."

"Deal. And when I win, we hit the pricey curry place."

"Confident, aren’t you?"

"Always. Genius is such a burden." Gojo sighed theatrically, stretched, then trotted toward the stairwell.

"Remember—no Infinity!" Suguru scowled.

"Yup, because it’s ‘cheating’. Still gonna wipe the floor with you."

"We’ll see."

The door slammed shut behind them.

And the world cracked.

Light bled away. Cold seeped in. Everything dulled.

A voice—unfamiliar, yet colder than the sensation that hits him—echoed in the void...

"Save him."

---

Satoru jolted awake in the carriage. A faint redness rimmed his eyes before his sunglasses slid back into place. He stared at the wooden ceiling, heart hammering.

Damn it…

He exhaled shakily.
"Suguru… hope you’re doing okay without me."

Gojo leaned forward, raking a hand through his hair before turning to watch blurred trunks and emerald leaves slip past the window.

I’ve tried not to fixate on it, but… there has to be a way back to Earth. Whoever—or whatever—yanked me into this world had the juice to move me across dimensions. That means a return trip should be possible.

He slumped in the seat, eyes on the carriage ceiling.
"But how…?"

A ripple of mana—faint, scattered—skimmed the edge of his Six Eyes.

Unfamiliar signatures. Dozens of them.

Gojo sat up, a slow grin creeping across his face.
"Bandits, huh? Talk about unlucky." He cracked his knuckles. "They’ve chosen the single worst carriage on the planet."

Outside, both the ground dragon and the driver remained oblivious as shapes flitted between the trees, sitting in preparation and unsheathing rust-flecked swords and axes.

Gojo tapped the window frame, casual as ever.
"Guess I was getting bored anyway."

With that, he reached for the door handle—ready to greet his would-be assailants with the warmest- and shortest lesson they’d ever receive.

---

"Roswaal-sama informed me about a guest arriving from the Astrea Estate. So try not to do anything stupid, Barusu."

The flat tone of Ram’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest as she dusted off a nearby table.

Subaru recoiled dramatically, one hand clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.
"A guest from the Astrea Estate?! Wait—don’t tell me Reinhard’s coming here?”
He leaned forward, brow furrowing. "Also, what do you mean ‘don’t be stu—’"

"No." Ram cut him off without even looking in his direction.
"The Sword Saint himself informed Roswaal-sama about the guest. Not that he was the guest. He only mentioned treating him with the same level of respect as Emilia-sama."

Subaru blinked, straightening slowly.
"That’s... kind of a big deal, isn’t it?"

Ram offered only a noncommittal shrug.

Subaru puffed out his chest with a grin, raising one arm in a confident pose.
"Well, you don’t have to worry about me! I’ll show this mystery guest what it really means to be a top-tier Roswaal butler!"

Ram slowly lowered the rag she’d been using to wipe the table, expression unchanging.
"The standards have truly collapsed."

"Eh?!" Subaru’s arm dropped as his smile twitched.
"You didn’t even wait a second to roast me!"

Ram straightened, arms dropping neatly to her sides as she turned toward the sharp-eyed boy.

"Regardless, you’ll be greeting the guest alongside myself and sister."

---

Later, at the Roswaal Manor entrance...

The low rumble of carriage wheels echoed faintly, rolling across the cobblestone path outside the grand estate before coming to a gradual stop.

Subaru stood in the entry hall, glancing toward the towering double doors.
I wonder who this guest is...
Must be someone important if even Reinhard went out of his way to notify Roswaal.

The entrance was as lavish as ever—ornate golden chandeliers swayed gently overhead, casting intricate patterns across polished floors. Two ivory-white pillars rose from floor to ceiling, framing the hall like something out of a royal painting.

Subaru adjusted his posture, standing squarely before the grand doors. On either side, Ram and Rem took their positions.

Without a word, the twin maids moved in flawless synchrony, pushing open the towering wooden doors. A flood of sunlight poured in, brighter and more blinding than even the stained-glass windows above.

And through that light, a tall silhouette slowly stepped forward.

---

Satoru's POV

Satoru stepped through the doorway, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes roamed the lavish interior of the Roswaal estate.

Damn... this Roswaal guy’s loaded.

The golden light streaming through stained glass danced across the polished floors, reflecting off intricate woodwork and chandelier crystals with a regal flair.

Then, movement. Two maids stood side by side, heads bowed, their synchronized voices calm and formal.

"Welcome, esteemed guest."

Pink and blue hair. Identical uniforms.
Huh. Twin maids.
Guess my gorgeous white hair’s not so rare around here after all... not that that makes me any less of a showstopper.

He gave a casual wave. "Yo."

But his attention quickly drifted—not to the surroundings, nor the maids—but to the figure standing just behind them.

A black-haired boy in a sharp, black butler’s uniform. Awkward posture, wide eyes from recognizing him, And—

"Ah..."

Satoru’s smirk widened slightly behind the shadow of his sunglasses.

There it is. That cursed energy...
Overflowing, raw, and completely untamed. Hell, he’s got more of it than I do—not that it means anything to me. I cant exactly run out.

He slid his hands into his pockets and took a few steps forward. 

The maids led Satoru through the grand hallway, each step echoing lightly off the marble floor beneath ornate ceilings and gilded fixtures. The estate screamed nobility—but he barely glanced at the luxury. His hands remained tucked in his pockets, sunglasses still perfectly in place, his expression unreadable.

Eventually, they came to a large set of double doors, which opened into a lavish dining room. A long table stretched across the space, lined with fine chairs and glinting silverware, like it was set for a royal banquet.

At the far end of the table, seated with elegance and an unsettling stillness, was a man in a flamboyant outfit—white face makeup, eccentric eyeshadow, a twisted smile, and mismatched colors.

Is that... a clown?
No way. Did they seriously set up a comedy show just for me? Now that’s hospitality...

Before the thought could spiral into something worse, the blue-haired maid stepped forward.

“Our esteemed guest has arrived, Roswaal-sama.”

Satoru blinked.
Ah. So this is Roswaal...
Good thing I didn’t say that clown comment out loud. Would’ve been awkward. Though seriously—who thinks something like that and says it?

"Aaaaahh... Greeeetings, Gojo-sama. Or would you perhaps prefeeer, Satoru-sama?"

Satoru blinked as he took his seat, momentarily caught off guard by Roswaal's theatrical tone.

"Satoru's definitely fine," he replied smoothly, reclining just slightly in his chair, still scanning the room with casual interest.

Aside from the two maids flanking Roswaal like twin statues, everyone else was seated quietly. That is—until another familiar face entered.

Long silver hair. White and purple outfit. That girl from before. As soon as she arrived, the blue-haired maid stepped aside.

"Oh! It's you!" Emilia blurted out, louder than she probably meant to. Her eyes widened for a moment before she flustered, quickly taking her seat.

Satoru’s trademark smirk remained firmly in place.
"Yup. Satoru Gojo, in the flesh. Long time no see."

Subaru, seated next to Emilia, leaned forward, brows knit as something seemed to click.
"Wait... 'Sama'-?"

Roswaal answered with a playful, drawn-out lilt.
"Why yeeeees... Subaru... It is oooonly natural to give respeeect to someone of higher claaaaaass... yes?"

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. His tone shifted, weirdly serious.
"This has totally happened before..."
He paused dramatically.
"Alright, lemme guess... Is he like Emilia-tan?! Another royal candidate?"

"That I am," Satoru answered casually with a nod.

Roswaal chimed in again, smile never quite reaching his eyes.
"Yeeeees... He is the fifth and fiiiiinal candidate for the throne..."

Satoru leaned back, arms crossed loosely as he watched the odd man with quiet scrutiny.

I'm probably being paranoid... but this guy gives me serious bad vibes. It's like when no one’s told me anything, but I just know I’ve somehow pissed off Yaga and he’s gonna jump me from the shadows with an expression that makes him look like a curse.

.. Man..

He let out a quiet breath, catching himself as his thoughts started to wander off track again.

Just as he refocused, the blue-haired maid—Rem—returned, carrying plates in each hand. With practiced grace, she placed them before each person, then stepped back into position beside Ram.

Roswaal’s voice soon followed, smooth and strange as ever.
"Not thaaaat I mind in the sliiiiighest... Satoru-sama... but is there a particular reaaaason you’ve graced my estate todaaaay?" His smile was wide, eyes—two different colors—gleaming like gemstones caught in moonlight.

Satoru sat upright, grin returning, and pointed the prongs of his fork toward Subaru without hesitation.
"That there is, wise guy. And it’s sitting riiight over there."

Subaru blinked, visibly startled.
"W–Wait... me? For what?!"

Emilia leaned slightly forward, brows gently furrowed.
"...I’m not exactly willing to give Subaru to another royal candidate.."

Gojo let out a light chuckle, lowering his fork and gesturing casually.
"Relax, I’m not asking for him to join my camp or anything. It’s just..." He tilted his head thoughtfully.
"He’s got something in him. Something seriously interesting. Like... seriously seriously so."

Subaru looked confused at first. Then, as if realizing something amazing, his entire face lit up.
He leaned back in his chair, throwing on a cocky smirk.
"Heh... you hear that, guys? I am special!"

Ram sighed audibly.
"Our esteemed guest may have seen wrong."

Roswaal, still smiling, gave a soft chuckle that sounded half-genuine, half... something else.

"Is thaaaaaaaat so... and what might this... entail?"
Roswaal’s voice hung in the air like incense—pleasant but cloying. He delicately lifted a piece of meat to his lips, chewing slowly as silence settled over the room.

Gojo leaned back, completely unfazed.
"Simple. He gets stronger. Alot stronger." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"I know what you're thinking—why would I help a guy from a rival camp? And the answer’s easy- I don’t care."

He clicked his tongue, eyes shaded by the reflection of his glasses.
"This whole royal candidate thing? It’s just something I got thrown into. Whatever that crusty old dragon saw in me—cool, I guess. But I didn’t ask for it."

He waved his fork loosely toward Subaru.
"That guy, though? He’s got something inside him. Something that doesn’t belong in this world." A grin curled at the corner of his lips. "Something like mine."

Subaru looked stunned, hand rising to his chest.
"W–Wait... you’re saying you see potential in me? Like real, kick-ass, 'battle-anime protagonist' potential?!"

Gojo gave him a slow nod.
"If you’re willing to put in the work. It’ll be painful. Not that fake training arc stuff."
He leaned forward, index finger tapping the table.
"But if you can handle it... yeah. You’ll be able to stand on your own. Not just as Emilia’s butler or knight or whatever..."
A pause. "...but as someone who can protect what matters to you, properly."

Subaru blinked. Then grinned.
"Heh... You’re on, Satoru dude!"

Emilia looked concerned.
"Subaru..."

Satoru raised a hand casually.
"Hey, I’m not getting him killed or anything. Probably."

Roswaal chuckled softly, his eyes glinting.
"Ohhh... I think this could be very entertaining indeed..."

"Shall I take that as your permission, Roswaal?"
Gojo’s tone was light, but there was a glint of seriousness behind his sunglasses. His smirk lingered, fork now resting against his plate.

Roswaal dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, smiling wide.
"Whyyyy... yeeeees, of course." His words stretched like ribbon across the room.
"If training Subaru enhances Emilia-sama’s chaaaances at the throooone... then by all means, do proceed."

Subaru blinked.
"Wait, seriously? That was all it took? I thought I’d have to, like, sign a contract in blood or something."

"Uh. Yeah nah, I’m not like—some vampire or cultist or whatever." Satoru waved a hand dismissively as he stood. "Anyway."
He clapped his hands once, sharp and eager. "Food was nice, but let’s get right to it. Subaru."

Without giving the boy a second to process it, Gojo casually walked around the table and placed a firm hand on Subaru’s shoulder—

---

In the Garden.

In a blink—no wind-up, no warning—the two were gone. The space around them twisted, colors smeared, and reality reassembled in a blink. They now stood out in a wide, open field behind the Roswaal estate—lined with trimmed hedges and elegant flower beds, a far cry from the chaos that had just taken place inside Subaru’s head.

Subaru stumbled back, eyes wide.
"HUH?! What the hell?! How did we get out here?!"

Gojo grinned down at him, hands in his pockets.
"Just a lil' trick of mine. Don't worry about it." His tone shifted slightly—still casual, but with an undercurrent of seriousness.
"But this isn’t about me or what I can do."

He took a step closer, lowering his sunglasses slightly to peer at Subaru more directly.
"Subaru Natsuki. You’re from Earth, right? Japan—judging by the name?"

Subaru blinked, caught off guard by the question’s precision.
"Y-Yeah… I am. Wait, are you—?"

Gojo nodded confidently.

Subaru stared in disbelief.
"Eh…?! Then why are you already, like—totally badass?! Did you get gifted an Excalibur or something?! 'Cause I’ve been waiting for that kind of treatment!"

Gojo laughed. "Hah! Nah, nothing like that. I’ve had these powers since Earth."
He pointed to himself with his thumb, flashing a grin.
"Which brings us to today’s first lesson—about Cursed Energy!"

Subaru tilted his head, blinking. "…Cursed what now?"

Gojo clapped once, suddenly energized like a teacher ready to hijack the chalkboard.
"Cursed Energy, Natsuki Subaru, is the power born from Earth’s negative emotions—fear, hatred, anger, sadness. All that nasty stuff leaks into the world and creates cursed spirits—monsters, basically."
He raised a finger. "That’s where people like us come in. Jujutsu Sorcerers. We exorcise those spirits using Cursed Energy as our power source."

He stepped forward, eyes gleaming behind his sunglasses.
"So forget about mana, MP, and all that fantasy RPG stuff. Cursed Energy is way cooler."

Subaru blinked again, his mouth half open. "...That’s… actually kinda metal."

Gojo leaned in closer, voice dropping just a little.
"And here’s the kicker—you’ve got a ton of it. More than me infact, Just sitting there. Wasted. Like a nuke with no launch codes.. or a playstation with no power cable."

Subaru recoiled. "Wait, I have cursed energy?"

Gojo nodded.
"More than everyone I've seen. Way more. So now you see why I’m interested, yeah?"
He flicked Subaru on the forehead playfully. His brows furrowed.

"Cursed Spirits… Wait—so you’re telling me I’m not insane?!"
Subaru pointed to himself, eyes wide.
"I always thought I was crazy back when I was a kid… y’know, with those creepy things floating and crawling around!"

Gojo chuckled. "Yeah, that’s pretty much the textbook way we find out someone’s a sorcerer. ‘Hey, can you see that freaky monster thing that nobody else can?’ Boom. Welcome to the club."

Subaru suddenly lit up, bouncing slightly. "So does this mean I’ll be able to, like—shoot out Kamehamehas?! Or Getsuga Tenshos?! Janken Rock?!"

Gojo's smirk faltered a little.
"Oh, uh... yeah no. Sorry to crush the anime dreams, but it doesn’t really work like that."
He rubbed the back of his head. "You don’t seem to have a Cursed Technique. If you did, it’d feel like an extra limb—instinctual, something you’d already be using without even thinking by now."

Subaru looked devastated. He slumped, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Gojo quickly raised a hand.
"Whoa there, don’t go crying on me yet—save that for after the training starts."
His smile returned, now a bit more serious.
"You don’t even realize how blessed you are. You’re looking at me, Satoru Gojo, the pinnacle of Jujutsu Sorcery—the strongest sorcerer alive."
He pointed at Subaru.
“And you? You’ve got more cursed energy than I do."

He paused, sunglasses glinting.
...Granted, you’d still run out like a billion years before I ever would, but still.

Subaru’s expression shifted. His gaze sharpened, bitter and incredulous.
"You’ve just got it all, huh?"
He looked away, a small huff escaping his lips.
"The world really isn’t fair."

Gojo smirked, hands in his pockets.

"Nope. But you can gladly go around saying you’re the ‘second strongest sorcerer’ in the world."
Gojo gave a playful wink, his smirk practically dripping with arrogance.

"Great!" Subaru pumped a fist—then paused, expression flat.
"…But there’s only two of us, right?"

Satoru tilted his head, pretending to think deeply.
"Mmm… Technicalities."

Subaru groaned. "So I’m the strongest loser. Got it."

Gojo clapped his hands once, the sound echoing sharply in the open field.
"Alright! Enough talk." His sunglasses gleamed as he took a few steps back.
"Let’s begin then."

Chapter 5: Actually Getting Stronger

The air around them grew thick—weighted like a storm just moments from pouring down.

Subaru shifted uncomfortably under the pressure, his nerves flaring despite Gojo’s relaxed posture.
"So uh… do I meditate? Scream a chant? Or.. like- bleed from the eyes or something dramatic?"

Gojo raised an eyebrow, expression unreadable behind his shades.
"You can bleed if it helps you feel cooler. Won’t actually do anything, though."

With a light chuckle, he took a few lazy steps back, planting his feet firmly into the soft grass. He stretched one arm outward, hand relaxed but steady- not quite a fist, but not open either.

"Alright, Subaru." His tone turned sharp—curious, yet commanding.
"Attack me."

Subaru blinked. "Wait- what? Like, punch you? For real?"

"Yup." Gojo nodded without hesitation. "There’s something I need to check. And don’t worry about hurting me."
His smirk returned, that same insufferably confident smirk that somehow radiated both charm and quite literally untouchable power.
"You’re laughably weak right now."

Subaru squinted. "Okay, rude."

"Facts." Gojo shrugged. "C’mon dude. Don’t overthink it. Just hit me with whatever you’ve got."

Subaru exhaled sharply, steadying his breath as he raised his fists. They trembled slightly, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver.

Then- with a shout more out of instinct than form- he lunged. Each stride was wide, desperate, his fist cocked back like a spring-loaded swing.

It flew forward—

—and was casually swept aside.

Gojo’s palm glided through the air like wind itself, redirecting the punch with such grace and ease that Subaru spun awkwardly, nearly toppling over.

"Eh?!" Subaru blurted out, stumbling as he glanced back.

"Don’t stop now." Gojo didn’t even bother to raise his voice. "You said you want to get stronger- well, this is how it starts."

Subaru clenched his teeth and charged again. Blow after blow, wild but earnest, fists flying with everything he had. A kick even snuck in now and then- none landed.

Not even close, of course.

Gojo didn’t use Infinity. He didn’t need to. His movements were smooth, minimal- flicking away strikes like swatting at falling leaves. His grin widened as he dodged, weaved, and parried with almost uncanny precision.

Huh.. He’s not completely hopeless. Honestly, I expected way worse. He's pretty fast for a completely normal guy from Japan.

Gojo cocked his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
He might even be on Suguru’s level~ pff-

He almost burst into laughter at his own thought, effortlessly deflecting one final punch with a flick of his wrist- this time with enough force to knock Subaru clean off his feet. The boy tumbled backward across the grass in an ungraceful roll.

Gojo clapped his hands together, loud and sudden.

"Alright! That’s enough. I’ve seen what I needed."

Subaru pushed himself upright, legs folding beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the grass, brushing dirt off his sleeves with a scowl.

"You get some kinda kick outta beating up the weak or something?!"

Gojo, still standing with his hands in his pockets, let out a short laugh.

"Not beating- testing. I had to see if you had even the slightest idea how to throw a punch."
He tilted his head, sunglasses gleaming.
"Good news is… you’re not the absolute worst I’ve ever seen. So congrats."

Subaru blinked. "…That’s the good news?"

"Yup." Gojo gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Which means we can skip the baby steps and move straight into the fun stuff. The real interesting stuff, forreal."

Gojo stepped forward, the grass crunching softly beneath his feet as he crouched down to meet Subaru at eye level.

"Alright, listen up. As i've said, you’ve got a ridiculous amount of Cursed Energy bubbling around inside you, there ain't alot you can do with it, but that ain't bad. Regardless, think of it like... a busted fire hydrant, spraying out in every direction, wasting all that good stuff you've got stored inside."

Subaru blinked, processing. "…So I’m a leaky hydrant..?"

"Yup, you've got a lot of cursed energy, but if you even tried to use it now you'd be wasting an excess amount than what is required, I guess like what I've read about the magic in this world in a sense." Gojo grinned.
"Your job now is to learn how to seal the hydrant, redirect that pressure, and actually use it. As a controlled flow not mindlessly overflowing whenever you wish to use cursed energy."

He held out his hand, palm up.

"Cursed Energy is all about control through negative emotion. And we- ..you can weaponize it!"

Subaru furrowed his brows. "So what, I get angry and then punch harder?"

Gojo clicked his tongue.
"Nooope. You get angry- and then don’t let it show. You feel like crying- but don’t let it spill. It’s reverse logic. Control over emotion equals control over energy!"

"Of course it'll take longer for you 'cause we're just starting, but most who've trained are good at controlling their Cursed Energy so it wont be wasted with the more intense emotions."
He tapped his temple.

Subaru exhaled, trying to sit straighter.

"Alright. I can do that! So how do I start?"

Satoru grinned.

"Easy. First exercise- maintain the flow of Cursed Energy running through your body the same. No fluctuations. No leaks. You do that, and I’ll know you’ve got the basics down."

"That doesn’t sound hard!"

"You’ll fail in the next two minutes." Gojo said flatly.
"Maybe one."

Subaru scowled. "Oh yeah? Watch this."

He closed his eyes, trying to focus, breath slow, body still.

Gojo watched silently, arms folded.

One second passed. Then another. Then—

Satoru flicked his forehead.

Gojo tilted his head.
"You failed. Your energy just spiked and dropped like a broken elevator or something. You’ve got zero control."

Subaru sighed. "So this is gonna take a while, huh."

"Oh yeah." Gojo nodded, already turning away.
"But don’t worry- I'm probably a great teacher. I’ll break you down juuust enough to build you back up again."

Subaru sat, still cross-legged, cursed energy faintly crackling across his shoulders like black mist clinging to the wind.

Gojo lowered himself to sit directly in front of Subaru, resting an arm on his knee with a grin plastered across his face.

"Alright, we’re gonna refine that flow now. I’ve got really good eyes- so I’ll know the exact moment you mess up."

He snapped his fingers with mock dramatics. "And every time you do it wrong? That’s one flick. Right to the forehead."

Gojo held up his hand and flicked the air a few times, each one letting off a disturbingly sharp crack of displaced wind.

Subaru immediately tensed. "W-Wait, wait, wait! Your flicks hurt, dude!"

Gojo’s grin widened. "Then don’t fail."

Subaru groaned, closing his eyes again. "You’re the worst teacher. Ever."

Flick.

"AGH!" Subaru reeled back, clutching his forehead. "I wasn’t even DOING anything yet!"

Gojo shrugged, smirking. "Exactly. Cursed Energy isn’t passive. You let it go dormant. That counts."

Subaru grumbled under his breath, forehead slightly reddened where the flick landed. "You're so lucky there's nothing to make fun of you about."

Satoru chuckled. "Right? Life is difficult as Satoru Gojo.. the strongest, most attractive, most badass-"

"Yeah, yeah!" Subaru grimaced, silence taking place once again.

This time, he steadied his breathing. He focused. Let the fear rise, but didn’t flinch. He let anger swirl- but didn’t lash out.

The cursed energy returned. Slowly. Controlled.

Gojo leaned in a bit. His smirk softened, just a little. "There we go. Keep that rhythm."

A tense moment passed. Then another. The aura pulsed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.

Then—snap.

Flick.

"GAHHHH—AGAIN!?"

Gojo laughed. “That was a bit better I guess, but not consistent enough."

Subaru glared at him through watering eyes. “Why do even your compliments seem forced?"

Gojo leaned back on one hand, raising the other with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Want another?"

"No!!" Subaru flailed, desperately trying to rein in his cursed energy again. The aura stuttered, then steadied once more, driven by desperation and resolve.

Gojo nodded, satisfied. "Good. Pain’s the best motivator, huh?"

He closed his eyes again, drawing on the sensation from earlier- the fire, the weight, the grief-turned-power. It began to stir again inside his chest.

A faint wisp of cursed energy trickled up through his arms.

"Good. Hold it." Gojo’s tone shifted to something surprisingly instructive, grounded.

Subaru’s brows twitched- the aura wavered.

Flick.

A sharp sting hit his forehead, and his eyes flew open.
“OW- YOU BASTARD!"

---

Several Hours later..

The sun had started to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Roswaal estate garden. The wind had quieted. It was just Gojo and Subaru- silence, save for the distant chirping of birds.

Subaru sat cross-legged again, this time with less sarcasm and more seriousness. His eyes were closed, brows lightly furrowed.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, calm but deliberate.

"Alright, I've already said, stop trying to brute force it. This isn’t magic. You’re not forcing energy through your veins- you’re feeling for it. Emotion guides the current."

Subaru exhaled. "Yes yes… negative emotion. Anger. Sadness. Fear so on soooo forth…"

Gojo walked in a slow circle around him, speaking evenly. "Don’t fake it. Think of something real. Something that cut you deep."

Silence...

Then Subaru’s fists slowly clenched tighter in his lap.

I’ve died.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, the weight of those thoughts settling like a stone in his chest.

Over and over. Screaming. Alone. No one ever remembered. They just moved on. And I... I don’t- I can’t move on from something like that...

Every time I wake up, it’s like the pain is fresh again, like the memories are clawing at me with cold, unyielding fingers. All the times I'd died, be it to enemies- or even those I consider friends. I can't forget it, it weighs on my mind unlike anything I've ever felt before.

Sometimes I just sit there, thinking to myself- 'Can I keep doing this?' Though I know I don't even have a choice.

I hate how weak I feel. How powerless.

I thought I was lucky at first- 'You get a second chance.' But what good is a second chance if I’m just going to fail again, and again.. and again?

I hate myself for being the one who always breaks first. The one who stumbles and falls when it actually counts.

Why me?

The question burns inside me, sharp and bitter. Anger rises, hot and heavy, threatening to spill out, but I clamp it down.

Gojo said I need to control it, shape it into power. But right now, it feels like it’s controlling me.

Like a storm raging inside, tearing me apart more and more each time I die.

But now I've got a chance... so maybe..

..Maybe if I can hold it still, just for a moment, focus all of this hatred into one controllable thread...

Then maybe I won’t be the weak, broken kid anymore...

Maybe I can finally fight...

Maybe I can finally live-

And then... he felt it.

A low hum in his chest. A whisper. A burn.

It crept along his spine like a coiling snake. His skin tingled, as if something deep inside him had been waiting to be acknowledged. Not magic- not of this world atleast.

But weight. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Cursed Energy.

His body began to shimmer faintly with a dark, translucent aura.

Subaru’s eyes opened slowly, tears welled up but not quite falling.

"…I feel it."
His voice quivered, not with weakness — but awe.

Gojo’s lips curled into a knowing grin. He leaned forward and, to Subaru’s genuine surprise, wrapped an arm around his neck in a quick, almost brotherly gesture.

"Nice one, dude! I’m not even gonna lie, you did that quick as hell..."

He ruffled Subaru’s hair playfully before raising an index finger like he’d just delivered some profound wisdom.

"I’ve always said to Suguru that I’d be a good teacher. Look at me now, eh?"

Subaru blinked, eyebrows knitting together.
"..Right...? Who’s Suguru?"

Satoru’s grin softened just a bit, his movements slowing as he straightened and hopped to his feet, hands slipping into his pockets.

"My friend. My best friend."

He glanced back over his shoulder, voice light but sincere.
"Anyway! I’d say that’s enough for today. Remember- it's up to you to keep controlling that energy until morning. I’d rather not stay up all night flicking you like a mosquito."

Subaru let out a dry laugh, rubbing the spot where Gojo’s fingers had tussled his hair.
"Noted."

Flick.

"GAH—!? YOU—??!" Subaru groaned, swinging his palms up to his forehead, tears swelling in his eyes.

"You, let your guard down. Don’t forget, you want that control all the time."

Gojo just smirked and turned away, stepping lightly over the grass without disturbing a single blade, as if walking on air.

"Ciao for today then."

Subaru blinked, still rubbing his forehead, half-expecting another flick. But Gojo was already a few steps ahead, the familiar carefree swagger in his stride.

---

Subaru rested on his bed, back pressed against the dark ceiling above, a small smile tugging at his lips as he stared up into the shadows.

That… felt good. It’s nice… knowing I’m not the only one from Earth here. Though he doesn’t feel like he’s from Japan like me… He seems way too different!

Restlessness churned inside him, despite everything he’d done today. The training, the flick, the lessons- it all left a spark, but not quite enough to settle his racing mind.

Without hesitation, Subaru swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cool wooden floor. He raised a hand, fingers flexing as if reaching for something invisible.

Alright... control… controool…!!

He let out a deep breath, focusing inward. His palm tensed slightly as a familiar black-and-blue aura began to shimmer, coalescing in a slow, elegant spiral. Like a river flowing quietly, serene but unstoppable, it twisted and danced across his skin.

"It’s so weird… this existed on Earth. Like, the hell?"

Emboldened, he took a slight step forward, lifting that single fist and threw a jab- not with desperation, but with emotion.

This time around, however-

SWISH-!

The punch sliced through the air with a sharp, crisp force, rustling the curtains by the window and unleashing a subtle shockwave that rippled outward.

For a moment, silence hung. Then...

"So… cool!!"

Subaru’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with newfound fire. For once, he felt like he could actually become something more than just the pathetic shut-in.

---

“Heh…”

Satoru chuckled softly, hearing the muffled sounds of a giddy Subaru echoing a few doors down.

So I’m staying here for a little while.
Still don’t exactly trust that Roswaal dude, but he let me stay—so I’ll respect him. For now.

Gojo’s mind drifted, turning over each face he’d encountered in the mansion.

Emilia...
Those eyes told me she’s tied to a spirit of some kind. Not sure if that’s good or bad. But hey—this world’s different. Can’t jump the gun.

The pink-haired maid, Ram, had a weird concentration of mana around her forehead. The blue-haired one, Rem, had it too—just... less. Almost like something was suppressed or stripped away.

And then—
Subaru.
Subaru, Subaru... I can’t tell if he’s hiding something… or if he’s just completely blind to it. But there’s something in him. Something dark. Heavy. My Six Eyes couldn’t even pin it down, like it was wrapped in shadow deeper than I’ve ever seen. It took everything in me not to let my jaw hit the floor 'cause my eyes never failed me like that before.

"Haah… whatever…"

He exhaled, letting it go for now, and sank into the mattress with a relaxed sigh. His eyes closed slowly, a faint, crooked grin tugging at his lips as he drifted into sleep.

Notes:

Do tell me if I've done anything wrong with the explanation on cursed energy, I believe it to be accurate but I'm not 100% sure.

Chapter 6: I totally forgot!

Satoru stood at the far edge of the manor’s garden, arms folded, his posture relaxed—but his sharp gaze never left the boy sitting in the grass.

Subaru sat cross-legged at the center of the clearing, cursed energy flickering off him in unsteady waves—like smoke twisting against a breeze. His shoulders were tense, fingers twitching slightly as he tried to rein it in. He was getting better… but still far from being a pro.

He’s progressing fast. Faster than I thought. But speed doesn’t mean strength. Not yet. Still, for someone who had no clue a few days ago... he’s not half bad.

Footsteps approached from the side—light, deliberate. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"Good morning, Satoru." Emilia’s soft voice came from beside him, her long silver hair catching the morning light like threads of moonlight. "How’s Subaru’s training going?"

Gojo didn’t answer right away. His attention lingered on Subaru a moment longer—watching the cursed energy sputter and flicker, wild but present.

Then he finally turned his head. "Morning, Emilia."

His tone was casual, but thoughtful. "He’s improving. Actually stopped punching himself in the face with cursed feedback yesterday. That’s a win in my book."

He gave a small, amused smirk. "Still moves like a limping puppy, though."

Emilia giggled, covering her mouth. "That’s Subaru… But he’s trying harder than I’ve ever seen. Not even Ram chasing him with a mop gets him this motivated."

Gojo chuckled lightly. "Yeah, he’s got spirit. Stubborn as hell, emotional as it gets—but he’s got something more important than talent."

His smile faded just a bit, hidden behind the reflection of his sunglasses.

"Resolve. And a ton of it!"

He finally turned his full attention to her.

"He’s been holding back his whole life. Doesn’t even know it. I’m just helping him find the doors he’s too scared to open."

Emilia looked out toward Subaru again, her violet eyes soft with worry—but tinged with pride.

"I just… hope he doesn’t hurt himself trying to go through them. He’s already been through more than most people can handle."

Gojo tilted his head. "He will get hurt. That’s part of the process. Growth doesn’t happen in safety unfortunately."

His bluntness made her blink, but he wasn’t finished.

"But he’s not doing this for me. Not even for you—well, okay, maybe a little for you."

He smiled faintly.

"But mostly? I believe he's doing it because he’s tired of being weak. And he’s starting to believe he doesn’t have to stay that way."

Emilia’s expression softened. "Subaru…"

The garden was quiet for a moment. A soft breeze stirred the leaves. The cursed energy around Subaru sparked faintly—like a quiet thundercloud, just beginning to form.

Then-

"GOJO!! I THINK I PULLED A NERVE OR SOMETHING!!"

Subaru was flat on his back, one leg in the air, cursed smoke wafting lazily from his shoulder like burnt toast.

Gojo exhaled through his nose and raised a hand.

"…Do you want to get flicked again?!" he called out, voice sharp.

"Call me Gojo-Sensei, dammit!"

"Soooorry, Gojo-sensei!" Subaru cried out, hands clasped together like a desperate student begging for forgiveness. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing the silver-haired girl standing just a few paces away. His expression lit up like a spark.

"Ah—Emilia-tan! Basking us in your radiant presence—have you come to witness my greatness in action?"

Gojo didn’t even glance at him. "She’ll be waiting a while for that, Subaru."

Then—another voice chimed in. Light, high-pitched, and just a bit smug.

"Shady-shades is right, you know!"

Satoru’s head turned sharply, his eyes locking onto the source- a small, floating feline spirit hovering just above the grass. Fur pristine, tail swaying idly, an air of mischief radiating from the creature.

Gojo’s smile thinned.

A spirit. But not like the ones I know of in the slightest- It’s clean. Refined. And strong. Damn strong. Hiding it well, too… Cute furball’s got depth.

For the briefest second, their eyes met—Gojo’s hidden behind mirrored lenses, and Puck’s narrowed with feline curiosity. A moment passed in silent understanding.

Then, the cat waved a tiny paw. "Good morning, Lia!"

Emilia offered a warm smile. "Good morning to you too, Puck."

The spirit turned to Gojo. "You’re Satoru, right? Emilia told me a bit—how you showed up with that Sword Saint guy and curb-stomped the Bowel Hunter. I was sleeping, so… thanks for that!"

Satoru raised a brow. "Sleeping?"

Puck stretched both tiny arms with a yawn. "Mhm. I can't do the whole 'stay awake all the time’ thing. Gotta preserve energy, you know?"

Gojo hummed. "Makes sense..."

Then—without warning—Subaru burst into action with a cry of victory.

"Sneak attack!!"

He lunged forward and grabbed Puck mid-air, tickling his soft belly with a wiggling finger.

"Stop—! Stop it—!!" Puck cried, twisting and flailing in Subaru's grip.

Emilia giggled, while Satoru casually turned away, muttering under his breath.

"I take it back. He’s not amusing. He’s an idiot."

Subaru had only just released Puck—who was now floating in the air again, fur slightly fluffed and eyes narrowed in mock offense—when the spirit’s gaze shifted back toward Gojo.

That earlier playful glint had faded.

"...You’re hiding a lot I can tell," Puck said, calmly now. No teasing. No grin. His voice had taken on a more mature tone—older, wiser, with an edge of quiet caution. "Like... way more than anyone I’ve ever sensed in this world."

Gojo didn’t reply immediately. His arms were crossed loosely, his head tilted to the side. But his posture hadn’t changed—not defensive, not offended. Just... watching.

Puck floated a bit closer, ears flicking back. "When I first saw you at that table, I thought maybe you were just some cocky fighter with a sharp grin and a cool coat. But now..."

The spirit's tiny nose twitched.

"There's something off with your energy.. It’s not just mana I feel within you." His voice dropped low, thoughtful.
"It feels almost like the Witch’s Miasma—thick and oppressive—but fundamentally different. This energy… it’s dense, suffocating, yet strangely clean. Pure instinct and raw emotion, twisted and honed into power… yet controlled."

He glanced toward Subaru. "He’s similar in some ways, but still slightly different."

Gojo chuckled softly, breaking the weighty silence.
"You’ve got good senses for a fluffball."

Puck’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating.
"And you… you carry the calm of someone who’s never known fear."

The air thickened as silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken challenges.

Subaru swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. He stepped forward cautiously, hands raised in a tentative peace.
"O-Oi… you’re not about to start fighting and wreck the garden, right?"

On the surface, his gaze was cool and indifferent, but inside, his mind raced.
How strong is this spirit, really? Could I—could I even hold my own against him now?
The thought was dangerous, yet intoxicating.

Puck’s grin spread wide, eyes gleaming with mischief and approval.
"Alright! I like this guy—he’s got a similar vibe to Subaru, just a hell of a lot less inept."

"H-Hey!" Subaru shot back, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.

---

Satoru Gojo strolled down the vast corridor of the mansion, footsteps echoing against the polished marble like distant whispers. His face was unreadable—serene, detached—though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the silence itself amused him.

I wonder... how many beings in this world could rival that spirit, I can only name one with confidence- but let’s be honest... I haven’t exactly been here long enough to make a proper guess.

His gaze brushed past a large oil painting hanging on the wall—elegant, finely rendered—and continued forward without pause.

Until he stopped. Without warning, he turned his head again, eyes narrowing.

That painting... it’s not just similar. It’s identical.

He came to a halt, lowering his head slightly. The world sharpened behind the thin lenses of his sunglasses as he scanned the hallway, gaze settling on a nondescript wooden door.

"...Aha."

A grin formed—sharp, knowing—as he twisted the brass knob and threw the door open with casual flair.

"Satoru Gojo, entering dramatically!" he declared, stepping inside.

Rows of towering bookshelves greeted him. The air was thick with mana.

A library. Grand, ancient.

Tch. A library? I only walked in because I felt something weird. I’ve had enough books this week to fill a damn volume of my own.

He ran a finger along a nearby table’s edge, examining the pristine surface with faint surprise.

"Clean, too-"

Before he could finish, a voice rang out—sharp, imperious, and distinctly unimpressed.

"Of course it is clean, human. Beatrice would never allow dust to disgrace her sacred library, in fact."

Gojo’s head turned slowly toward the voice, the low flick-flick of turning pages falling into silence.

And there she sat—aloft on a floating stool like a porcelain doll conjured from a forgotten fairytale. Her golden ringlets framed a face of delicateness, and her elaborate dress—frilled, laced, and impossibly ornate—made her seem more like royalty than a librarian.

His jaw slackened slightly.

"…A loli?!"

Beatrice froze. Her brow twitched, an ominous tick beneath her ribboned hair. With practiced precision, she shut the book in her hands and placed it down as though laying a sword to rest.

"I find that term insufferably demeaning, I suppose!" she snapped, puffing her cheeks in regal outrage.

Gojo chuckled before sliding his sunglasses just low enough to reveal glinting blue eyes, aglow with irreverent charm.

"Didn’t mean to offend, Princess~" he said with a mock bow.

"Tch... Beatrice finds you both more annoying and stranger than Subaru, I suppose," she huffed, narrowing her eyes in visible irritation.

With a flutter of her dress and a flick of her curls, she rose from her floating stool, legs straightening gracefully as she landed on the wooden floor without a sound. Her expression was unreadable as she approached, steps precise and regal.

Then, without warning, she extended her small hand—pressing her palm flat against Satoru’s abdomen.

"…?"

Gojo arched a brow, blinking once, then glancing down at her hand with mild curiosity. He didn't move. But Beatrice did.

She froze.

Seconds passed in heavy silence.

Then she recoiled—stumbling one step back as if she’d touched a live wire, her eyes wide, mouth parted.

"Y-You… What… are you…?" Her voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and alarm. "How is it… that you are completely unaffected?! That’s… that’s impossible, in fact!"

Did she just try to hit me with some kind of spell or something?

Gojo exhaled through his nose, amused and grateful for his instincts.

..Glad I turned Infinity on, could've been embarrassing as hell if I didn't.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned forward ever so slightly, casually invading her space, and reached out to gently pat the top of her head.

The reaction was immediate—her eyes went wide, cheeks puffed, and fists clenched in sheer, indignant horror.

“Y-You dare!?” she sputtered.

Gojo chuckled. “Relax. It’s just that... you never actually touched me, y’know?” he said, voice light but layered with implication.

Beatrice stared, her expression shifting from flustered to thoughtful. "An Authority, I suppose?" she murmured, voice lowering. "You do have the Witch’s scent, after all... though it's not quite the same as Subaru’s. It clings to you differently."

Gojo scratched the back of his head, expression turning contemplative.

"Yeah, that part? I don't really get but.. As for this ability..." he shrugged. "Let’s just say it’s sorta its own thing. Not an Authority, not magic. Just—me being me, the greatest."

Beatrice's eyes narrowed, gaze sharpening with curiosity now laced with unease.

"This world does not take kindly to beings who bend its rules, in fact… you will learn that soon enough in ways most unfortunate."

Gojo paused, studying her as she bristled. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement.

"You’re not human… a spirit, then?" he mused aloud, voice low and steady.

Beatrice’s eyes flickered—surprise, indignation, then a keen interest. She straightened her posture, twin drills swaying as though responding to an unseen breeze.

I’ve met spirits before, but never one so… human. Those eyes could almost rival mine! Almost.

His gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any telltale glimmer of ethereal power.

"There are spirits that wear human forms," she replied, voice cool as glass, "but few as convincing as myself. You, who bears such—" she halted, as if reluctant to name what she could sense on him, "—anomalies could understand those who are different, I suppose."

Gojo’s smirk deepened. "Anomalies, huh? Guess we’re both full of surprises eh?"

Beatrice’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles—equal parts challenge and curiosity.

Satoru’s eyes twitched. His head snapped to the side, senses sharpening like the edge of a blade.

Mmm… what’s this? Another strong presence- outside the mansion...

The shift in his demeanor was subtle but unmistakable.

He clicked his tongue, glancing back at Beatrice with that same infuriating smirk.

"Well then... apologies, my adorable, squishy-faced spirit, but I’ve got places to be, mysteries to poke, and apparently a new power level to measure."

Beatrice barely had time to puff up in protest. "Squishy-?!"

But he was already gone.

In a blur of motion, Gojo pivoted on his heel and vanished from the room, the doors flinging open with a force that rustled every page in the library. His footsteps against wood faded like a fading beat in a war drum—quick, certain, impossible to catch.

Beatrice stared at the space he’d left behind, lips pursed, cheeks flushed.

"Tch… That man is infuriating, I suppose..."

But her eyes lingered on the door longer than she meant them to.

---

Satoru jogged swiftly through the mansion’s winding halls, his footsteps a rhythmic beat against the lavish flooring.

No sign of Emilia. Rem, Ram- or Roswaal. P lace feels... too quiet.

He came to a sudden halt, the fine red carpet skidding slightly beneath his feet. With a sharp turn of his head, he leaned toward the tall window, eyes narrowing as he peered outside.

Down below, nestled at the grand front entrance of the estate, stood a crimson carriage—sleek, regal. Beside it, Subaru was pouring tea from a porcelain pot, posture relaxed. Opposite him, a tall older man with refined grey hair and a sharp black-and-white suit accepted the cup with effortless grace.

Gojo’s eyes sharpened, a small smirk creeping across his lips.

Aha... that aura. Refined, heavy. Definitely the one I felt earlier. This guy’s got weight. And he doesn’t even need to flaunt it for me to notice at a distance.

Without waiting another second, he turned and continued down the corridor—faster now.

---

Meanwhile, outside in the garden...

The old man raised the teacup to his lips, eyes half-lidded in calm appreciation. He sipped once—deliberate, quiet—and let out a low breath.

"Mmm. Yes... It is lovely indeed. It feels as though I am indulging in a rare and delicate luxury."

Subaru grinned, setting the plate of cups down onto the rim of the nearby fountain like a makeshift serving tray.

"Yup—best tea you’ll find in the entire mansion!" he said with pride, then lowered his voice with mock caution. "If Ram finds out I served it without asking, she’ll probably murder me in my sleep."

Before Satoru could call out, a sudden rush of footsteps echoed across the stone path—swift, controlled, and deliberate. Like a heartbeat picking up pace.

The old man was the first to react. With a subtle shift of weight and a slight rotation of his heel, he turned toward the source. No panic. Just calm readiness honed through years of battle.

Flick.

"G-GAHH, WHY?!" Subaru yelped, staggering back slightly, clutching his forehead.

Satoru stood beside him now, index finger still outstretched from the flick—a grin playing on his lips as though he’d been there the whole time.

"You dropped your guard," Gojo said, almost sing-song, tilting his head. "That’s why... iiiidiot."

Subaru groaned, rubbing his forehead. “At least say hi before acting like a schoolyard ghost!”

But Gojo’s attention had already shifted.

His gaze met the old man's—and in that instant, the air seemed to still.

The two men stared each other down, neither flinching.

The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, calculating.

This boy... his posture is casual. Slouched, even. And yet—there is no opening. Not a single clear point to strike. As if... he’s always ready. Without even trying, it's formless- yet incredibly dangerous... impressive.

Gojo’s lips curled upward just slightly, the sunlight catching in his crystalline eyes.

Oh yeah… this guy’s the real deal. Trying hard to play harmless... but these eyes don’t miss. He’s definitely skilled, powerful.

The old man offered no dramatic reaction. No surprise, no caution. Just a slow, deliberate nod.

A warrior’s acknowledgment.

Gojo’s smirk widened as he stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets.

"Introductions, then," he said with a playful cadence. "I am Satoru Gojo—" he leaned in slightly, voice dipped with mock grandeur— "Fifth candidate for the throne of Lugunica."

A beat passed.

Wilhelm’s eyes widened—just slightly—but in a man so composed, even that flicker spoke volumes.

So it's true. The fifth. I’d heard whispers… but never expected to meet him here. Not at Lord Roswaal’s estate of all places.

The old swordsman straightened his back, offering a small but respectful bow.

"I am Wilhelm van Astrea," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, like the swing of a master blade. "The Sword Devil—servant to Lady Crusch Karsten, and future Queen of Lugunica."

Gojo’s smirk faltered slightly, but returned the next moment, but there was something in his eyes now—recognition. Respect.

He’s not just loyal. He believes in her. Every word was conviction, not duty. I can respect that. Also.. Astrea.. huh? This guy Reinhard's grandfather or something?

Subaru, still rubbing the fading sting on his forehead, huffed loudly.

"Jeez… it’s like you’re trying to square up with every new person you see. I swear, Gojo-sensei…"

Gojo didn’t miss a beat. He turned, lifting a finger with a familiar glint in his eye.

"You askin’ for another flick, Subaru?"

"NO!" Subaru instinctively flinched, hands flying up like a hostage.

Wilhelm watched them silently—his stern expression softened by the barest ghost of a smile.

A dangerous man… but not without heart. This kingdom may yet be changed by hands like his, regardless if he doesn't become king.. change will be coming.

Then came a voice—smooth, sing-song, and androgynous.

"I'm baaack, Old Man Wilhelm~!"

Satoru, Wilhelm, and Subaru turned in unison toward the sound.

At the edge of the garden path stood a figure that practically shimmered with style- cat ears perked atop their head, a blue-and-white outfit just flamboyant enough to challenge local fashion laws.

Satoru blinked. Slowly.

We’ve got cat-girls here? Subaru’s probably foaming at the mouth right about—

He glanced to the side.

Yep. Subaru’s face was heating up like a kettle. But Satoru’s own gaze sharpened—instinctively, almost on reflex. Something in the air shifted.

Wait a sec... that's no ‘she’!! That aura.. That stride.. that bul-.. ahem. This world's messing with my expectations again damn it!!

"My bad for taking so looong~," the cat-boy purred. “Bet nyou were bored, riiight~?"

Wilhelm offered a small shake of the head, calm as ever. He gestured toward Satoru and Subaru.

"Not at all, Sir Felix. I had the company of these… rather amusing young men."

Subaru gave a nervous chuckle, half-flattered.

Felix practically glided over, stopping just short of their personal space—and then promptly invaded it. He leaned in and sniffed—first Subaru, then Satoru.

Subaru nearly melted. "Wh-what is happening—?"

Satoru, meanwhile, exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head down ever so slightly.

No.. Absolutely not! I’m not breathing in whatever glittering pheromone cloud this guy emits. My condolences, Subaru, you've fallen for it, I shall not forget you- my greatest student.

"Nyow I see~!" Felix chirped. "You’re the two boys Lady Emilia mentioned~!"

Subaru blinked, cheeks still lightly tinged red. "Emilia-tan mentioned us?"

Felix nodded, circling them with a dancer’s grace.

"Yup~ Though I think at least nyou’re completely clueless." He gave Subaru a playful boop on the nose. "But White-haired-chan over here? He’s got the vibe of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing."

Satoru didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. His body was still, but not tense—just... alert.

This guy is very wrong and has no idea what he's talking about, but I'll talk any compliment I can get.

"Well.. see nyou both at the capital~!" Felix sang, spinning lightly as he stepped into the waiting carriage.

Wilhelm gave one final nod, the faintest curl of amusement in his expression, and followed.

Silence.

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck.

Shit. I totally forgot I was supposed to be recruiting for my royal selection camp. And, y’know... the entire throne thing. Whoops.

Notes:

I'd say i'm on a roll right now.

Chapter 7: Let it begin.

Gojo let out a sigh of exasperation, tilting his head toward Subaru—who stood watching the crimson carriage roll off into the distance, Wilhelm perched stoically at the front.

Then Subaru’s gaze snapped toward the sorcerer, eyes wide and sparkling with fresh awe.

“Dude… there are cat-girls here!”

Gojo raised a brow, glancing sideways. “Wasn’t your heart supposedly stolen by ‘Emilia-tan’ not even two hours ago?”

He leaned in slightly, voice lowering in mock seriousness.

“Also… that’s not—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Well… letting that little misunderstanding fester could be hilarious. I just hope I'm around to see his face when he finds out that cat-girl is actually a cat-boy.

Gojo chuckled to himself, closing his eyes with a grin.

Subaru frowned, already sweating nervously. “O-Oi… what? That reaction was crazy ominous, you know!”

Gojo just waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway—I completely forgot I, too, am a royal candidate. Meaning I’ve gotta go to the capital and dazzle some crusty old nobles with my charming smile and overpowering charm.”

He scowled slightly. “Ugh.”

“Wait, what? So… this is goodbye?” Subaru asked, voice dipping. “What if I, I dunno, slack off while you’re gone?”

Gojo smiled. Slowly. The kind of smile that says ‘I will haunt your dreams if you even think about it’.

“Well, that’s your choice,” he said casually. “But you’re the one who wants to get stronger. I’m just the guy who can help you do it.”

"Anyway, see you soon. Tell the maids and Roswaal I'll be back soon enough. Emilia- well, I'll be seeing her at the capital."

He stretched lazily, then clapped his hands together. The air around him warping like shattering glass—reality bending, warping—and then in an instant, he was gone.

Only a faint shimmer of residual cursed energy lingered in the space where he’d stood.

“…See you then, dude.”

Subaru stood frozen for a second, then let out a long breath. He turned his eyes skyward, squinting in thought.

Then they widened, lit up by sudden revelation.

“…I just got an idea above all ideas!”

---

Satoru warped in a blink—a fissure in reality tearing open for a breathless moment before sealing shut as soon as he appears. He was back in his room at the Astrea Estate.

Exhaling slowly, he turned to the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the endless green of the fields and treeline beyond.

“I’d bet good money Reinhard’s already felt my return and is currently speed-walking his knightly ass over here,” he muttered.

He sighed, letting his head roll slightly back, then turned toward the door just as he heard the inevitable—

KNOCK-KNOCK.

“Come in. Buddy old pal Reinhard,” he called, already smirking.

Right on cue, the door creaked open, and in stepped the red-haired knight—Reinhard van Astrea. Not a single thread of his outfit was out of place. Pristine. Polished. Strength radiating off of him.

“Satoru,” Reinhard said, calm but clearly strained. “I’m relieved to see you’re safe, but… don’t you think this is cutting it a bit close?”

Gojo just grinned, shrugging like he’d merely overslept a nap and not vanished hours before an important political summit.

“We’ll be fine. I mean, you do have like… Divine Protection of Instant Teleportation to the Capital or something, right?” He shot him finger guns for good measure.

Reinhard’s brows drew down, lips tightening ever so slightly. “...Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work like that.”

Satoru blinked. His smile froze. “...R—right. Obviously. I was joking. Kinda.”

There was a beat of silence before Satoru turned back toward the window, scratching the back of his head.

“Even if we're late, it'd look pretty damn badass don't you think, Reinhard dude?"

Reinhard’s lips curled into a calm, confident smile as he met Satoru’s gaze.

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully.
“But arriving early tends to make a better impression on the people. First impressions matter more than you think.”

His eyes held a quiet conviction, the weight of experience shining through.

Satoru grimaced, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration.
“Argh… why do you have to make such a valid point?”

He shook his head, then raised a finger with a playful wag.
“No worries, Reinhard! I didn’t mention it earlier, but I can actually teleport us straight there. Just… not right now. Can’t exactly show up looking like a mess.”

He nodded toward the dark, impeccably tailored suit laid out neatly on his bed.

“I’ll come find you when I’m ready, alright?”

Reinhard closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a quiet sigh.

“It seems you’ve also forgotten... the Royal Selection isn’t until tomorrow.”

Satoru froze—then whipped around with theatrical speed, pivoting on his heel to face Reinhard directly. His eyes, though obscured behind dark lenses, widened in disbelief.

“EH?! You made it sound like we were about to be late! And it’s not even today?!”

Reinhard remained unfazed.
“My apologies if I gave that impression.”

Satoru let out a low groan, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah, it’s fine. Actually… that works out perfectly for me.”

Reinhard tilted his head slightly, curious.
“Oh? And why is that, if I may ask?”

Satoru grinned.

“Because I’m going people hunting.”

A pause.
Silence hung in the air.

“...To, uh, join the Gojo camp. I mean.”

Reinhard blinked.
“Ah.”

---

The Slums...

Satoru strolled through the slums, his shoes squelching softly against mud-caked streets. Crumbling walls, rusted tin roofs, and the reek of stagnant water clung to the air. Around him, beastkin and humans alike—cloaked in rags, chewing on rock-hard scraps of bread—glared from doorways and alley shadows.

Their eyes held no fear. Only contempt.

They probably think I’m some noble out slumming for amusement... They would only be half wrong, technically.

He sighed internally, gaze flicking across gaunt faces and hollow eyes.
Yeah... poverty really is universal. No matter what world you're in, the bottom looks the same.. shame.

He stopped. Lowered his hands.

“Tch. Screw formalities.”

In a flash of crackling light, Satoru clapped his hands together—and vanished.

Gasps erupted behind him. A child dropped their crust of bread. Adults murmured in shock, some shielding their eyes like they'd seen a ghost vanish in daylight.

---

Within the Loothouse..

The room was dim, lit only by the subtle rays of the sun seeping through the gaps. Dust danced through shafts of amber light leaking through warped gaps in the wooden walls and roof. From the outside, the place might’ve looked abandoned—if not for the bickering echoing from within.

A small figure sat atop a barstool, legs kicking slightly above the floor. A red scarf hung from her neck, her wild golden hair spilling like straw.

“Oi, old man Rom! What’s wrong with this drink?!” she barked, slamming a tiny wooden cup against the counter.

Behind the bar stood a towering slab of a man—muscle layered upon muscle, a scar across his nose, eyes wary but warm.

“You ungrateful little gremlin,” Rom muttered, chuckling.
“I gave you that milk outta kindness. Least you could do is not yell about it.”

Felt scowled. “I know what milk is! But this stuff's either waterlogged or gone bad! How am I supposed to grow if you’re stunting me with some gone off milk!?”

Rom snorted and reached over, ruffling her hair with a massive hand.
“You should be grateful you’ve got anything at all, kid.”

Then—another voice cut in, echoing from behind them.

Smooth. Teasing.

“Aww, that’s just adorable, man. I didn’t think you had such a soft side the last time I dropped by.”

Felt flinched. Rom’s muscles immediately tensed.

They both snapped toward the voice—wide-eyed. Fear spiked in the room. After what Elsa Granhiert had done, caution wasn’t a luxury—it was survival.

Felt blinked, a spark of recognition forming.

“Wait—it’s you!“

Satoru stepped into the candlelight, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Yup. Don’t worry, I—”

CRACK!
A colossal wooden club came down with the force of a landslide—directly onto Satoru’s head.

“Felt! Back, now!” Rom shouted.

She jolted from her seat—but didn’t run.
“WAIT! WAIT!! HE’S THE ONE WHO SAVED US, YOU FREAKING IDIOT!”

Rom blinked, sweat beading along his temple. Slowly, he turned.

Satoru stood perfectly still. Not a scratch. Not a crease in his jacket.
Just an unimpressed tilt of the head.

Rom exhaled, lowering the club immediately.

“I—I apologize... I wouldn't dare treat our savior like this but.. after everything with the Bowel Hunter...”

Satoru waved a hand casually.

“Don’t even worry about it. Totally get it.”

He smiled.

Felt folded her arms, tilting her head. "So what brings a bigshot that beat up the Bowel Hunter back here of all places?"

Satoru grinned, walking over with his hands in his pockets and taking a seat at the stool. 

"Your finest cup of milk!"

Rom just raised a brow, "You sure? I could treat you with a cup or two of beer."

Satoru shook his head. "I don't do alcohol, messes with not only my vision but it can my powers aswell." He shrugged. "Milk!"

Felt sat next to him, watching him take the drink into his mouth. "So...?"

Oh god that's really bad-

Fighting the sensation to gag, he lowered the milk down onto the wooden surface and wiped his mouth.

"Ergh.. oh right.. I want you both to... join me!"

Rom and Felt shared their confusion. "Meaning..?"

“I want you to join my camp. For the Royal Selection.” He gave a dramatic raise of his hand.
“The Gojo Camp—current only two members!”

Rom frowned. “You’re... a royal candidate?”

“That’s the rumor,” Satoru replied, adjusting his shades.
“Honestly, I don’t care about thrones or power struggles, but a certain red-haired knight makes me feel all bad if I just don't bother.”
He turned to Felt, smirking.
“Which brings me here.”

Felt raised an eyebrow. “You want me to join..?”

“Why not?” Satoru shrugged. “You’ve got a Divine Protection, you're scrappy, and you don’t let anyone talk down to you. That’s useful to me.”

Felt seemed shocked at how he somehow knew, but before she could speak up-

Rom crossed his arms, towering like a shadow over the girl. “She’s not for sale. Not for politics. Not for war.”

Satoru waved a hand again. “Relax, relax. This isn’t conscription to war or whatever. I’m just offering her.. no- you both a chance to do more than rot in a back alley drinking spoiled milk and alcohol.”

Felt glanced between the two men—Rom’s unwavering stare, and Satoru’s easygoing grin.

“...And what do I get out of it?”

Satoru’s smile widened.

“Freedom. Resources.. Moneeeey~ if that’s your thing. But more importantly…”
He leaned in, voice lowering just enough to sound conspiratorial.
“A front-row seat to all the chaos I'm about to cause in this clearly messed-up kingdom."

Satoru’s grin widened, finger idly tracing the rim of the chipped wooden cup.

“You’re down here, stealing, fighting—surviving day by day while nobles toss coins at banquets. So here’s a thought...”
He leaned in, his voice low, conspiratorial.
“When I become ruler, I’ll flip the whole damn board. Tear down everything that's wrong with this system. Build something better—real equality, top to bottom.”

He looked at her, sharp and unblinking.
“But I’ll need your help to do it.”

Rom didn’t speak. He simply watched Satoru with that quiet, unmoving intensity—like a mountain waiting to see if the storm would pass or break upon it.

Then—Felt’s voice cut through the silence.

“...Fine.”

Rom blinked.
“Felt...?”

She stepped forward, arms crossed, fire in her eyes.

“If you’re actually serious—if you're really gonna blow this whole corrupt system to pieces and fix it—”
She smirked.
“Then yeah. I’ll help. I want a front-row seat when those smug nobles and bootlicking knights see everything they've built crash down.”

Satoru’s smirk never wavered, but his gaze shifted, calm and steady, toward Rom.

Rom held his stare for a long beat. Then—

“If Felt’s in... so am I.”

He rose from behind the bar, standing tall like a titan, his tone resolute.

Satoru gave a single nod.

“Good. A carriage’ll be by later. Pack whatever you need.”

He turned to leave, but paused. Glancing once more over his shoulder:

“...By the way, the milk sucked. But thanks anyway.”

Then—with a whisper of static and a shimmer of distortion—he vanished.

The room fell into silence again. Dust floated lazily through the amber light.

Rom sighed, glancing down at Felt.

“You sure about this?”

Felt tightened her scarf and gave him a wicked grin.

“If it means I get to piss off the nobility?- Heck yeah."

---

The day of the Royal Selection...

The ornate carriage rattled softly over cobblestone streets, sunlight glinting off its polished exterior. Inside, seated on plush cushions, were three figures.

Satoru sat with legs crossed, reclining slightly with his signature cool detachment. Beside him, the ever-composed Reinhard. Across from them—arms folded, face scrunched in visible discomfort—was Felt, dressed in an elegant orange gown.

“So Rom's staying back at the estate, eh...” Satoru muttered internally, side-eyeing the empty space beside Felt.
“I guess it'd be awkward as hell for a big guy like him, nobles'll hate him for sure."

He turned to Reinhard, brow quirking.

“Okay, seriously. How the hell did you even get her an outfit this fast?”

Felt scoffed, tugging at the stiff fabric like it was laced with thorns.
“I can’t believe I’m wearing this thing. Feels like it’ll tear if I breathe wrong! If I was part of the actual Selection, I’d kick you right across the face, you damn knight!”

Reinhard chuckled, unfazed. Meanwhile, Satoru leaned back and glanced out the window as the carriage passed over the royal bridge, the opulence of the Capital glittering beneath a pristine sky.

“So... show up at the castle, kiss up to these bootlicking knights and nobles, and charm the so-called ‘wise men’, right?”

Reinhard gave a patient smile.
“That’s... one way to describe it, yes.”

“Tch. I’ve dealt with enough crusty old men in the Gojo Clan to last three damn lifetimes.”

Reinhard gave a polite cough.
“Please, Satoru... try not to refer to them as 'crusty old men.'”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed again, tugging slightly at the collar of his sleek black-and-purple suit.
“They better not try to touch my hair...”

---

Inside the Castle- Subaru's POV

Subaru stepped into the enormous hall, his eyes darting across the formation of knights and figures arranged before the throne.

“So these are the candidates for the throne...”

His gaze settled on each figure stood infront.

Emilia, radiant as ever, poised with a quiet strength.

Priscilla Barielle, wrapped in scarlet, her regal arrogance practically glowing.

Crusch Karsten, upright and steely, her military uniform crisp and imposing.

And Anastasia Hoshin, relaxed in white, her lilac scarf and easy smirk speaking volumes.

But...

“Wait... where's-"

Then a familiar voice rang out.

“Ah, Subaru! I figured you’d be here.”

Reinhard appeared at his side with his usual grace, smiling.

“Yo, Reinhard! I’ve been wondering where you’ve been—”

But Subaru’s words caught in his throat as he turned to the figure beside Reinhard.

The feline “girl” from before, now dressed in white knight attire and wearing that same mischievous grin.

“It’s you—!”

Felix gave a wink, ears twitching.
“Nyep~!”

Reinhard nodded calmly.
“Indeed. Felix Argyle. A knight of Lugnica—and despite appearances, he is male.”

Subaru’s face dropped in realization.
“So that’s why Gojo-sensei kept laughing...”

Felix purred.
“See ya later~”
And with a grin, he was gone, blending into one of the knightly rows.

---

The hall grew quiet as a stern-looking green-haired knight stepped forward.

“I, Marcos—leader of the Imperial Knights—will oversee today’s Royal Selection proceedings.”

His voice carried through the vaulted chamber.
“It began half a year ago. One by one, the royal family vanished—beginning with the king himself...”

Anastasia’s voice cut in, casual yet cutting.

“Liiiisten, I get it—you wanna give us the full drama. But I’m a busy woman. In Kararagi, we’ve got a saying.. ‘Time is money.’”

Crusch followed up, arms crossed.
“Agreed. Our time is precious. Let’s get to the point of why we're actually here."

Miklotov McMahon, one of the elder officials, leaned forward.

“You believe you already understand why you’ve been summoned today, Lady Crusch?”

She smirked.
“Is it not a drinking party?”

Miklotov blinked.
“No. Absolutely not.”

Crusch turned, eyes narrowing.
“Felix... this isn’t what you said.”

Felix hummed sweetly.
“All I said was ‘maaaaybe.’”

“... Then I retract everything I said, my apologies..”

Anastasia raised a finger.
“Hold up. Just because she’s backing off doesn’t mean I am. Skip the recap—most of us know how this works.”

Emilia spoke gently.
“Still... it might be helpful for some—”

Anastasia interrupted, tone sharp.
“Yeah, but nobody asked you, sweetheart.”

Subaru’s fists clenched.
“Why you—”

A muffled voice echoed from behind him—Al, the man in the helm.

“Hey, I’m new here! I’d actually like to hear the whole thing!”

Marcos glanced toward Al, expression pinched.
“Is this your knight, Lady Priscilla?”

Priscilla didn’t even open her eyes.
“Whether I informed him or not is irrelevant. You would have rambled regardless. Now continue.”

Marcos gave a brief nod.
“Very well.”

“The reason we’ve summoned the Dragon Priestess candidates is due to a new prophecy—one etched into the Dragon Stone. It names five candidates. And one among you will forge a covenant with the Dragon itself... and ascend as ruler.”

Subaru blinked.
“Five... then.. where's Sa-"

Reinhard turned toward him, eyes gleaming.

“You’re right. Only four are here. But today, that will change.”

He stepped forward as Marcos called his name.

“Reinhard van Astrea—please, come forward.”

Reinhard stepped forward, each movement refined and certain—knightly perfection in motion. He lowered his head with respectful grace, hand placed flat over his chest as he bowed before the assembly of nobles and elders.

"Honored members of the Council of the Wise, Imperial Knight Reinhard van Astrea reports the successful completion of my assignment. The Fifth contender—the final candidate spoken of in the prophecy—has been found."

The air shifted.

Murmurs rippled across the grand hall. Even the most stoic of nobles straightened in their seats, eyes narrowing with intrigue. Then—

The doors.
Massive and ornate, they creaked open with deliberate ceremony.

Light poured into the room.

And there he was.

Satoru Gojo.

Hair white as snow, aglow in the sunbeam like he had descended from another world entirely. His the bottom of the suit flowed behind him, purple trim catching the light with each step. Dark shades shielded his gaze, but his aura—unapologetically relaxed—spoke volumes. Hands stuffed in his pockets. No bow. No formality.

Reinhard bowed once more, his voice unwavering.

"The one to whom I have pledged myself. The one I believe worthy of leading this nation into a new era."

"Satoru Gojo-sama."

---

Satoru POV

Talk about talking me up, huh? Thanks, my trusty red-haired knight … However!

Reinhard lowered his head again, palm to chest in that ever-graceful bow.
"Satoru-sama, thank you for gracing us with your presence."

Satoru’s brow twitched.

Honorifics now? Well, considering all the eyes in here, I guess that tracks. Still... what a pain.

He raised his voice suddenly, eyes narrowing on Reinhard.
"Reinhard... you—"
The room tensed.

His tone shifted—dramatic, accusatory.

"You never told me they'd start messing up my hair!"

He pointed an accusing finger at him like it was a crime scene.

Reinhard, ever composed, only smiled.
"My apologies. I believed it was the only way we could prepare you properly… so I chose not to say."

Satoru sighed, dragging a hand through the aforementioned hair.
He turned to another familiar face in the crowd, grin returning.

"Yo, Subaru. Didn’t think I’d see you here."
His eyes gleamed behind the sunglasses.
"Looks like you’ve kept up your training. Would’ve been embarrassing if I had to flick you in front of all these people."

Subaru’s shoulders jumped back instinctively.
"O-Oi! One more of those flicks and I’ll be permanently disfigured!"

A few stifled chuckles from knights nearby.

Then—Marcos, ever the stern conductor of order, spoke up.
"Satoru-sama. If you’re done rekindling old friendships, please come forward."

Satoru exhaled, long and low, hands slipping into his pockets.
With a slow, deliberate stride, he moved toward the front, stopping beside the other candidates.

He nodded to Emilia—a knowing, subtle gesture.

"Well then?"

Reinhard stepped forward again, this time producing the object of ceremony—the Insignia.

Ah. So that’s what they want.

Without a word, Satoru took it.
It was warm in his hand—alive, almost.
Then—

Light.

It shone brilliantly, a pulsing, radiant glow that lit up the entire chamber.

Gasps echoed all around, nobles and knights alike leaning in.

He raised it overhead casually.
"Yup. See? It’s glowing and all that jazz~"

Reinhard chuckled, rising to his feet with composure.
"As you all can see, the Dragon Stone has recognized Satoru-sama as a Priestess. With this, his participation in the Royal Selection is valid. I believe it is time we formally begin the process."

His words echoed through the hall.

Then—a wave of motion. Every knight in the room leant forward to bow in perfect unison, hand against chest, head lowered. Their discipline was a statement in itself.

But silence doesn’t last long in a room full of nobles.

A voice from the crowd pierced it like a needle.
"Let’s assume the Dragon Stone recognized him... Isn’t he a bit lacking in decorum? In punctuality?"

Satoru’s eye twitched.

Great. Here we go.

That familiar scoffing tone—the one nobles mastered from birth—began rippling across the chamber, spreading like wildfire. Murmurs turned into mocking jabs.

"Is this some kind of joke?"
"That’s the Fifth candidate?"
"He can’t even button his collar properly—"

It was just a bit tight around the neck damn it!!

For just a moment, Satoru’s smile twitched. Faltered.

Then came the pivot.

Satoru slowly stepped forward. Each step up the stone stair echoed like a drumbeat. His posture? Relaxed. Casual. But his presence?

Devastating.

He reached the top and turned to face them—on equal footing with the Wise Men.

Tap.

The tip of his boot touched stone. And the world changed.

An invisible weight dropped into the room—a crushing, suffocating pressure. It wasn't magic. Not mana. Not gravity.

It was pure intent. Bloodlust.

The nobles choked on their own breath. Some staggered back, others lowered, hands on their knees to prop themselves up like to stop them all from falling. Yet every knight—Reinhard included—remained perfectly still, untouched, unshaken.

Reinhard muttered under his breath.
"Satoru-sama..."

Just as suddenly—it vanished.

Satoru tilted his head, sunglasses catching the light, his voice low and calm.
"You think I want to be up here?"
He gave a half-laugh. “Because hell no, I don’t.”

Not a single noble dared interrupt.

"But you mocking me? That’s not about me anymore. That’s about questioning what the Dragon itself has chosen. You’re not doubting me—you’re going against your god."

The chamber went still. Gasps rippled again—shock, realization, fear.

He turned his head slightly.
"Reinhard, my knight... come on up. Let’s get this party started yeah?"

At the rear, Miklotov—one of the oldest and most respected—finally nodded, silent approval in his eyes.

Marcos cleared his throat and stood straight, speaking with measured authority.
"..Satoru Gojo-sama... and his knight, Reinhard van Astrea..."

Satoru adjusted his collar, pushing his sunglasses down just a touch to let his brilliant blue eyes flicker into view.

"Now then..."
He glanced across the room—Reinhard beside him, Crusch and the grinning Felt for a moment as if knowing what he was planning.

"I’ve got two of the best lie detectors in the kingdom right here—so anything I say? You’ll know if it’s the truth."

Then came the bombshell.

Satoru leaned forward, grin curling across his lips.
"I'm not from around here. I think you all call it... 'Beyond the Waterfall,' right?"

The hall exploded with shouts.

"Impossible—!"
"Lies!"
"He's mocking the ceremony—!"

But then—Reinhard stepped forward, eyes wide.

He nodded.
"He is telling the truth."

Crusch followed suit. Composed, calm—though a faint wrinkle in her brow betrayed surprise.

"Confirmed. Satoru Gojo is not of this world."

Silence. Again.

Satoru let it sit.

Then he whispered with a smirk..

"Now then.."

Chapter 8: Resolve.

Satoru let out a breath, slow and measured—shoulders rolling back as his sunglasses caught the glint of chandelier light overhead. His gaze flicked downward first, scanning the royal candidates—Emilia, Crusch, Anastasia, Priscilla—his expression unreadable. Then, finally, his head tilted slightly and his eyes snapped toward the nobles seated ahead of him.

A subtle shift in pressure filled the air.

Gone was the lazy smirk, the casual posture.
Now? Satoru stood still. Calm. But with the kind of calm that made the back of your neck itch.

"You know," he began, voice low—but carrying. "Every time one of you opens your mouth, it just makes me more confident that this place needs to be flipped inside out."

A few nobles shifted uncomfortably alongside one another. Others scowled outright.

"You're all so damn focused on appearance, etiquette, bloodlines—" he waved a hand dismissively. "That you forgot what it even means to lead. Or to even just serve."

Priscilla scoffed, eyes narrowing.
"Tch. Such crude speech. Do you intend to lead a kingdom or tear one down?"

Satoru’s gaze didn’t even twitch, instead he smirked.

"Depends on what’s left standing when I’m done cleaning out the rot."

Gasps echoed through the room. Reinhard stayed silent beside him—smiling just faintly, as if he'd expected this exact firestorm.

"And for the record," Satoru added, tilting his head, "I don’t need any of your approval. The dragon already gave it to me."
He held up the insignia again, letting it shimmer in the air. "Shiny rock says I’m legit, remember?"

Anastasia chuckled under her breath, leaning to the side on her feet.
"Heh... ballsy. I like him."

Crusch, ever composed, gave a small nod. "He speaks without fear, but not without thought. There may be merit in that."

A tense silence followed—but it wasn’t rejection anymore. It was the kind of hush that came with the sudden realization that a storm was already inside the palace walls… and smiling at you.

Satoru adjusted his sleeves slightly.

Down below, Subaru whispered under his breath.
"...Yeah. He’s definitely crazy."

Emilia just watched Satoru carefully, expression unreadable—but in her eyes, a flicker of curiosity- surprise.

Respect.

The nobles continued to murmur among themselves—quiet, nervous, uncertain—but none dared raise their voice again. That silence? That submission?

It made Satoru smile.

Coolly, he stepped forward, hands in his pockets, voice ringing clear through the hall like a bell struck in the dead of night.

"I'm not here to give you sweet little lies wrapped up in ribbons. No empty promises. No lip service to tradition or pride."
He paused, head tilted slightly, almost casually. "Instead, I’m giving you the truth. The ugly, brutal, necessary truth..."

His eyes swept across the chamber. "This nation is broken. And I will tear it down. Rebuild it from the ashes. Fix what you people never had the guts to."

A ripple ran through the gathered nobles and candidates alike.

Then, he grinned wider—mischievous, electric—as he brought one hand up to the stem of his sunglasses and tapped it once with a finger.

"Oh—almost forgot."

The grin grew sharper.

"Did I mention I plan on killing a certain flying whale?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the reaction was instantaneous.
Crusch Karsten’s eyes flew wide open. Several nobles gasped aloud, some recoiling like they'd heard a ghost speak.

The White Whale. A legend. A curse. A wound left festering in the kingdom's history.

Satoru rolled his shoulders like it was nothing.
Yeah. Credit where it's due—Reinhard planted the idea. Funny, really. I did all this reading, studied everything I could, and I still somehow forgot those monsters existed.

The silence that followed was thunderous.

Nobles stared, some pale-faced, others clutching the arms of their chairs. The Council of the Wise leaned forward ever so slightly—attention gripped, no longer by formality or position, but sheer disbelief.

Satoru’s words had landed like a hammer on fine glass. And it was cracking.

“Did… did he just say the White Whale?” one noble whispered, barely audible beneath the gasps and mutters.

Crusch Karsten, known for her iron composure, stepped forward—her lips parted, eyes wide with unmistakable shock.
“You speak of the Demon Beast that devour everything, not just people- but their very being itself… and has also gone unchallenged for over four centuries?”

Satoru’s head tilted again, that playful, too-confident grin forming once more.
“Yup. Big, floaty, screams like hell itself. Real pain to deal with, At least I am told.”
He waved a hand dismissively, like he was talking about an annoying bug.

“You can’t be serious,” a noble hissed, finally speaking up, but not with contempt—with fear.
“Even our best knights barely survive encounters with it, and many never return—!”

Reinhard’s voice cut cleanly through the tension.

“And yet, if anyone in this room could defeat the White Whale… it would be him.”

Eyes snapped back to Satoru, who gave Reinhard a lazy thumbs-up before turning his attention back to the council.

“See? Told you he’s reliable.”
His expression shifted slightly—still confident, but a trace of sincerity flickered beneath.

“Look, I don’t want your worship, or your fake smiles. I want change. And if you’re too scared to follow, then stay out of my way. But don’t pretend I didn’t give you a chance.”

He let the weight of that hang in the air for a moment, then looked toward Crusch.

“If you’re really a soldier or whatever, then I bet you know it better than most. This kingdom’s rotting. Corruption in the courts. Starving kids in the streets. Nobles drunk on power while monsters roam free outside the capital.”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I’m not here to dance around it. I’m here to burn it down and build something better.”

Crusch took a slow breath—her eyes locked with his. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she gave the faintest nod.

“…Then I hope to see your actions live up to your words, Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru just smiled, sharp and wide.

“Oh, I guarantee it.”

Crusch Karsten’s eyes narrowed—not out of skepticism, but strategy. Her mind raced behind her composed expression, dissecting the implications of Satoru’s declaration.

This man… no, this outsider, He may be reckless with words, but he has Reinhard.

She thought, eyes fixated on Satoru’s casual stance.

And that changed everything.

Crusch wasn’t the type to be shaken by bravado. She had stood before battlefields drenched in blood, led men through slaughter and survival alike. But Reinhard was not just a knight.

He was a one-man army.
A divine anomaly in human form.
An existence so overwhelmingly powerful that is almost godlike.

If Reinhard swore loyalty to someone, then power, authority, and legitimacy followed in kind—regardless of where they came from. That fact alone reshaped the entire Royal Selection playing field.

That fool of a noble didn’t grasp the gravity of what just happened, Gojo Satoru could be a farmer from Kararagi and he’d still walk into the throne room with the weight of a god behind him and would still be telling the truth just because of that one man, the Sword Saint.

She mused darkly. Still, there was something… unnerving.

Crusch’s scowl deepened.

What kind of man earns Reinhard’s loyalty so freely?

She didn’t believe Reinhard was the type to be manipulated or coerced. Which meant...

He believed in this man’s ideals. His vision. His ambition..

He speaks of tearing down the nation, not reforming it. Of purging it, from the roots. That’s not politics—that’s revolution.

She crossed her arms, the leather of her gloves creaking faintly as her jaw tightened.

This man is one I cannot afford to ignore. Nor can I afford to stand idly by if he truly intends to bring change by fire.

Satoru spoke up yet again, grinning- almost wildly.

"Hell..! To make you all believe in me even more, I'll do it without Reinhard!- Eh? Whatcha think!?"

The hall erupted—not with applause or admiration, but with stunned disbelief and murmuring panic.

Satoru Gojo, grinning like a madman, had just thrown away his trump card in front of the entire council of nobles, knights, and royal candidates.

Reinhard’s eyes widened briefly—not out of disapproval, but sheer surprise.

"He's... serious," the Sword Saint thought.

A noble shot to his feet, face red with fury and confusion.

"He's insane—!"
The word tore through the tense silence like a blade.
"You’re just a stranger from who-knows-where, boasting like some court jester! And now you're saying you'll face the White Whale without Astrea’s protection?!"

Others chimed in, voices overlapping—

"This is no longer boldness—this is arrogance, foolishness!"
"Has the Dragon truly chosen this man?!"
"Without Reinhard, he's just another lunatic!"

But Satoru didn’t flinch. If anything, the storm of doubt only fed the fire in his grin.

He spread his arms slightly, sunglasses catching the light as his voice rang out, powerful, undeterred:

"Yup. I’m insane."
He laughed, soft at first—then louder, sharper.

"But you see—insane people change the world. Normal people? They keep it broken!"

Even as some nobles tried to scoff, they found themselves falling silent. Why?

Because even stripped of Reinhard’s presence, there was something so terrifyingly sure about Gojo’s confidence.
Something not human in the way he stared them down, smirk unwavering, hands still in his pockets.

“I’ll beat that oversized flying whale. No Sword Saint. Just, me."

Reinhard, standing quietly at the back of the stage now, watched with a slow, dawning smile.

So this... is what you wanted, Satoru-sama. Not my power—but the chance to prove yours.

Reinhard was already aware of Satoru Gojo's might thanks to their sparring sessions, and truly believed he could do so.

Meanwhile, Emilia blinked, wide-eyed.
"He’s… really doing this without Reinhard? I don't understand..."

Crusch’s scowl deepened once more.

"He’s forcing us to recognize him not as a man with The Sword Saint—but as his own force."

Then came the kicker.
Satoru leaned forward slightly, gaze razor-sharp beneath his shades.

"If I win without Reinhard... you'll have no choice but to accept that I'm the real deal."

The chamber was dead silent as he stepped down, Subaru gawking at him- though he just gave the boy a thumbs up.

Then came the rest of the candidates.

Priscilla Barielle stepped forward, chin tilted high, eyes gleaming with disdain.

"This entire selection is a farce!" she scoffed.
"It is obvious to any with functioning eyes and ears that I alone am worthy to rule. The rest of you? Simply kneel at my feet and rejoice—serving me shall be the greatest honor of your pathetic lives."

Crusch Karsten followed, composed and resolute, voice unwavering.

"Should I take the throne, my first act will be to break the Dragon’s Covenant. This nation shall no longer be bound to ancient promises. The Empire of Lugunica belongs not to a dragon, but to its people."

The crowd stirred. Murmurs of approval—and apprehension.

Then came Anastasia Hoshin, with her fox scarf and businesslike smirk.

"I'm a greedy lil’ gal, no point hiding that." She winked, twirling a lock of hair.
"Commerce, power, wealth—I’ve conquered it all. So why stop there? It’s only natural I aim for a whole nation next~"

Satoru’s gaze shifted subtly as Anastasia stepped back. His eyes briefly locked with Subaru, still lingering near the back—an anxious, clenched presence.

Hope he doesn’t try pop off… Nobles are already side-eyeing Emilia hard enough as is…

Then, Emilia stepped forward, flanked by Roswaal. She took a soft breath, steadying herself, before placing her palm gently to her chest.

"I have only one wish," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
"To build a nation where all people—no matter their race, blood, or birth—stand equal."
She bowed with grace.

Roswaal chimed in behind her, his tone exaggerated and theatrical.
"I must confess, I feeeel quite out of place amidst all these knightly types, mm?~"

As they turned to step down, a sneer cut through the chamber. That same noble from before stood again, venom on his tongue.

"This entire spectacle is a disgrace. A man from another world vying for our throne—and now, a half-elf?! What madness is this?!"

Before the council could respond, Bordeaux—grizzled and blunt—raised his voice.

"It is madness! To think that Margrave Roswaal brings a half-devil into this sacred hall as a candidate! It’s an insult to every tradition we hold dear."

Roswaal’s smile didn’t budge as he turned his head slightly.

"Now now… let’s mind our manners, shall we? After all, nobody likes being called a devil, especially when they’ve said nothing to deserve it~"

Satoru remained silent, eyes darting toward Subaru, whose expression was twisted in growing fury.

And then the noble crossed a line—

"She looks just like the Witch of Envy! You think we should ignore that? Just allowing her presence in this chamber is a sin in itself—disgusting creature!"

People here really are idiots, Satoru thought. Loud, proud, and dumb.

Then—

"ENOUGH!!"
Subaru's voice thundered through the hall, raw with rage.
"That’s enough bullshit!"

"Subaru... please!" Emilia whispered in panic.
"It’s okay—don’t make things worse..."

"No." Subaru shook his head, fists clenched, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
"I won’t shut up. You people… You’re all so full of it! Sitting there on your thrones, judging someone you don’t even know! Apologize. Apologize to Emilia—now!"

"Subaru!!" Emilia cried out again—but he didn’t stop.

She turned back to the council, voice steady despite the trembling.

"My name is Emilia."
"I’ve come here accompanied by the Great Spirit of Fire—Puck. And yes… I am a silver-haired half-elf."

Gasps surged through the hall.

"I understand I may resemble the Witch. But I will not let fear or prejudice dictate my fate—or this nation’s."

A long pause. Then, Miklotov, calm and measured, finally spoke.

"And the boy who shouted… What is his position?"

Subaru straightened. His hands trembled slightly, but he smiled—a fierce, proud smile.

"I’m Emilia’s knight!" he declared, voice ringing out.
He raised one hand, index finger pointed skyward.
"Her one and only!!"

There was no point in stopping it—not now.

As bad as I feel, this could serve as a lesson for him.

Satoru closed his eyes, exhaling quietly.

Miklotov raised a brow. "A knight, is he?"

Then—
A figure stepped forward from among the knights, his uniform just as sharp as Reinhard’s, purple hair glinting beneath the sunlight. Golden eyes locked onto Subaru with quiet intensity.

"Forgive the interruption," the man said calmly.
"But there is something that must be addressed..."

He paused.

"What exactly are you proclaiming when you declare yourself Emilia-sama’s knight?"

Subaru tilted his head, confused. "Yeah, I said it. What about it?"

The man—Julius Juukulius—shook his head slightly.
"You’ve made that claim here, of all places. Before the very order of Imperial Knights, without reserve."

With a sweep of his arm—

THUD.

The synchronized stomp of polished boots echoed through the chamber. Each knight moved in perfect unison, blades unsheathed, steel catching the sun like a challenge issued from the heavens.

Satoru whistled softly under his breath.
"Nice. That coordination—do you guys rehearse this stuff or what?"

"Of course we do," Julius replied.
"Now—tell me. Do you have the resolve to match that performance?"

Subaru’s eyes widened. He leaned back slightly, instinctively recoiling. But then—

"I... I’ll make Emilia the next ruler!"

Julius’s gaze sharpened like the edge of a blade.
"You believe you have the will and the strength to make that happen?"

Subaru took a breath, deep and shaky.
"Strength? No, not yet. I’ve only just started training... I'm still weak."

He clenched his fists.

"But I don't lack willpower. Not even a little. One way or another, Emilia will become ruler—and I’ll make it happen!"

Julius exhaled. His voice, though calm, was edged with quiet disappointment.
"A bold claim... but laced with self-doubt. That is not something to be proud of. Have you earned the right to stand here and call yourself her knight?"

Subaru’s fists trembled, knuckles white.
"I-I don’t care. I’ll still do it!"

Julius stepped forward, his tone more puzzled than hostile now.
"Why? Why do you insist on standing here, defying us—the Imperial Knights?"

Subaru’s head lowered—then snapped up, voice cracking with emotion.

"Because... she's special!"

Julius blinked, visibly caught off guard by the answer. For just a second, his mask slipped.
A pause hung in the air—quiet, but heavy.

"I understand," he finally said.
"And I accept that reason. But I still cannot acknowledge you as a knight."

Subaru’s face contorted. "What… what do you mean!?"

"Anyone who wears that expression—"

Julius gestured subtly toward Emilia.

"—on the face of the one they wish to stand beside... is no knight."

Subaru didn’t turn to look. He couldn’t. His teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

"Is being a knight really such a big deal!?" he shouted.
"What, you think you're better than me just 'cause you were born into the role? Stop acting like a big shot just ‘cause your dad handed you a sword!"

Julius sighed. "Subaru Natsuki... That is not a good look for you."

"That's enough..." Emilia’s soft voice cut in like a whisper across stormy seas.

She placed a hand on Subaru’s back, gently pulling him back, turning toward the council.

"I apologize deeply for wasting the court’s time."

Without another word, she began to walk away, guiding Subaru by the shoulder. His face was a storm of anger, shame, and disbelief.

As they neared the door, Miklotov finally broke the silence.
"Emilia-sama... If nothing else, your attendant has shown us something important today—"

He paused.

"That you are not to be feared. And that alone speaks volumes."

Emilia stopped, eyes flickering over her shoulder.

"Thank you. But..."
"He’s not my attendant."

The door shut with a final echo, leaving silence in its wake.

Satoru let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Damn... second-hand embarrassment hitting like a truck. I feel bad for the guy—but yeah, this is something he’s gotta learn the hard way.

---

Subaru sat in a small, sparsely furnished room, his expression blank—empty, drained. Across from him stood Reinhard van Astrea and Felix Argyle, quietly observing.

“The royal selection has… finally begun, Subaru.” Reinhard’s voice was calm but firm.

“Subaru, you are Emilia-sama’s knight, ain’t nya? So, let’s do our best~!” Felix chimed cheerfully, his playful tone in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere.

Before Subaru could respond, the door opened.

“Forgive me for interrupting.” Julius Juukulius entered, his face composed as ever, though his eyes briefly flickered with concern as they landed on Subaru.

“W-What’re you doing here?!” Subaru blurted, wary.

Julius sighed.
“I sincerely wish you wouldn’t wear such an unpleasant expression. I never expected a warm welcome, but if you keep this attitude—”

Subaru clenched his fist and leaned forward sharply.
“Then what?!”

“I only suggest you proceed with caution.” Julius’s voice was steady but carried a warning.
“Now… you asked why I’m here, yes? I came to see you, of course.”

He glanced out the window for a moment, lost in thought.
“There’s something important we need to discuss. I want you to come with me.”

---

The scene shifted.

Subaru stood alone in the center of a vast colosseum-like arena. Rows of knights lined the balconies above, their gazes sharp and watchful.

His suit was off, replaced by simple training gear. He was stretching, preparing.

Opposite him stood Julius, with Reinhard just behind, holding out a wooden sword.

“Julius... you really shouldn’t do this...” Reinhard murmured, concern evident.

Julius’s gaze hardened as he took the wooden blade in his hand.
“He insulted the knights directly. It is only just that he faces punishment.”

He exhaled deeply, stepping forward deliberately, ignoring any protests Reinhard might have offered.

Raising the wooden sword high overhead, he declared loudly:
“I hereby administer the death penalty to this insubordinate man who has sullied our knighthood’s honor. Under normal circumstances, such insolence would be met with death by the sword. But... considering you are Emilia-sama’s attendant, we will fight with wooden blades.”

Subaru’s eyes flickered down to the wooden sword in his hand. His grip tightened around the hilt… then slowly loosened.

With a swift motion, he tossed the wooden sword aside and raised his fists into a fighting stance.

“Sorry. I refuse. I fight better with my fists.”

Julius’s brows furrowed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“You truly are a foolish man...” he muttered, shifting his stance. One hand slipped behind his back in perfect form, the other angled his blade forward with fluid grace.
“Fine, then. Let us begin.”

“Yeah... alright.” Subaru’s tone was steady, his teeth grit with determination.
“I won’t hold back even a bit!”

But he didn’t charge. Not yet.

Instead, Subaru took a long, deep breath—gathering everything. His focus sharpened, and the cursed energy that lay dormant within him surged to the surface.

It erupted.

A raging aura of black and blue energy spiraled around him, coiling skyward like a living flame. It crackled violently, humming with raw, unstable power before dissipating as if absorbed.

Julius’s eyes narrowed, his golden gaze catching the flicker of that strange, unfamiliar energy. Magic in a way, perhaps—but not like any he's felt before. He remained silent, poised, observing.

Then—

SMASH-

Subaru’s foot struck the ground with such force that cracks webbed out beneath it. Dust exploded around him as he lunged forward at blistering speed, closing the distance between himself and the "Finest Knight" in hardly a second.

His fist, cloaked in cursed energy, came screaming through the air—aimed straight for Julius’s head.

But—

SWISH.

Julius stepped aside. Not with panic, not with desperation—but with elegance. His body pivoted effortlessly, sliding across the dirt like a gust of wind. Subaru’s punch tore through empty air, the shockwave whipping through Julius’s violet hair.

Subaru’s eyes went wide, thrown off-balance.

Julius's counterattack came instantly.

The wooden blade in his hand thrust forward—a blur. It met Subaru’s chest… and skidded off, as though it had struck an invisible wall.

A barrier...? No.. his body is just that tough. He thought, blinking- though not shaken.

That opening was all Subaru needed. He twisted his hips and drove another punch forward, this one faster, tighter—aimed straight for Julius's side.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Hoh...” Julius exhaled lightly, sidestepping once more.

It wasn’t just experience. It wasn’t just training.

It was everything. Subaru lacked everything, in comparison to this knight.

THUD.

The butt of Julius’s wooden sword slammed down hard onto the top of Subaru’s fist, driving it down violently. The impact jolted through his arm and crushed his momentum, sending his strike crashing into the ground with a spray of dirt and dust.

And then—

SWISH.

Julius moved like a phantom, slipping behind Subaru through the cloud before he could recover.

CRACK!

The wooden blade slammed against Subaru’s ribs with brutal force. A sickening crunch rang out, echoing across the colosseum. His cursed energy flared—then fractured.

The blow broke through his defenses, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying.

He rolled, tumbled, skated across the arena like a ragdoll, his body finally slamming into the far wall with a heavy CRASH.

Silence fell across the arena, save for the settling dust.

Julius didn’t gloat. He didn’t smile.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes unwavering.

“You are lacking in every way,” he said evenly.
“Skill. Experience. Power. Speed. Resolve.”

His voice was calm—but resolute.

"Now get up, this has only just begun."

---

A knight burst into the throne room, armor clanking loudly as he skidded to a halt.

“R-Report! The knight Julius and Natsuki Subaru are engaged in a mock battle in the arena!”

Emilia’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“W-What?! How did that happen…? I—I have to—”

Anastasia lazily raised a hand.
“Sooo~ I just wanna know one thing: who issued the challenge?”

“It was Sir Julius, though Natsuki Subaru accepted.”

She waved dismissively.
“Then I’m against stopping it.”

Subaru… that fool, accepting a duel like that just because of his pride…

Satoru’s eyes narrowed.
“Your knight and my friend are fighting. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

Anastasia smirked.
“Worried? About what—Julius going a little overboard and us needing to pay a healer premium? That’s nothing new.”

Crusch spoke next, her voice steady.
“Regarding the duel… I too oppose interfering. A battle begun must be seen through to its end.”

Satoru sighed, brushing back a lock of hair.
“Tch. That idiot… should’ve known not to accept just because he was angry. Julius is way above his level right now.”
He turned to the knight. “Why are we hearing about this just now?”

The knight swallowed.
“B-Because, well... it’s been rather quick.. and one-sided.”

Emilia gasped and immediately sprinted from the room.

Satoru rolled his shoulders, stepping to follow.
Well… I might as well see if he can at least land one punch. Even a miss would be impressive.

---

THUD— Julius’s wooden blade slammed into Subaru again, cracking against his bruised shoulder with brutal force.

Subaru’s stance faltered. His legs buckled—but didn’t break. Bloodied and wheezing, he clenched his fists and twisted into a sudden left hook, aimed straight at Julius’s face.

SWISH— The knight ducked low, his back bending fluidly as Subaru’s fist soared overhead, ruffling his hair.

He’s still standing? Julius mused, eyes narrowing. He’s surprisingly durable…

“…Very well,” Julius muttered. His body flickered—his speed ramping up drastically, becoming little more than a blur to Subaru.

SWISH.

Subaru’s world flipped. A single kick to the shin sent him spiralling.

Then before he even hit the ground—

WHAM—!

Julius stepped forward, swinging his wooden blade like a bat, crashing it into Subaru’s ribs midair. His body launched several meters across the arena, rolling and smashing into the dirt.

“Guhhh… uufff…”

Why…? Subaru groaned internally, clawing at the ground.

“Just surrender.” Julius’s voice echoed. “Admit you’ve reached your limit. I underestimated you slightly—but this is the extent of your strength.”

Those words—cut deeper than the blade ever could.

Subaru’s fingers dug into the sand. Slowly, shakily, he pulled himself upright again, blood trickling down his chin. He wiped it away with his wrist.

“Screw you. Like you said… this has only just begun!”

From the arena entrance, the royal candidates filed in—Emilia at the front. And behind her…

Satoru Gojo.

Subaru’s eyes twitched.

Gojo-sensei… is watching me get my ass handed to me… Alright then. It’s time for my SPECIAL move!

He inhaled deeply. His pupils dulled, his body swaying slightly as he reached within—deeper than ever before.

I figured it out. The Witch’s Miasma… it’s similar to cursed energy. I thought—what if I could use it the same way?

It hadn’t worked—at first, I didn't get it...

But now—

WHOOSH-!!

A new aura erupted from him—dense, oppressive, violent. It wrapped around his battered frame like a storm. No longer black and blue—this was purple, and it radiated something far more sinister.

From the viewing stands, Gojo’s expression sharpened.

What the hell is that?
His cursed energy—it's almost doubled.. the output is higher aswell.

Subaru’s eyes widened, glowing faintly as a savage grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I… can return by—gkHHK!”

His cursed energy flared violently again, rising like a tidal wave.

What is this? Gojo thought, almost smiling.
Even if I’ll never say it to his face… he’s insane.

Julius, meanwhile, sensed it—his stance tensing.

The air had changed.
Not just the energy—the atmosphere itself became darker.

Reinhard’s gaze darkened, a rare shadow crossing his face as his brows furrowed.

The Witch’s miasma… it always clung to Subaru. But now… it’s far more intense than before.

Then suddenly—

“SHAMAAAC!!”

A surge of darkness erupted from Subaru’s feet, spiraling upward like a tidal wave of smoke and shadow. The arena vanished beneath a blanket of pitch black.

Gasps echoed from the stands.

Subaru lunged forward—racing through the void as fast as his battered body would allow. His bloodied fists clenched tight.

Come on… just one hit. Just one at least!!

---

Julius narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat.

Instead, he raised his sword, sliding it backward over his shoulder with quiet grace.

“Out of respect for your efforts,” he muttered, almost solemn, “accept this gift.”

He stomped down—BOOM—a wave of force scattered the darkness in an instant, revealing Subaru barely a meter away, his face twisted in determination and desperation.

The air shimmered.

Flecks of multicolored light danced across Julius's wooden blade—now glowing with an ethereal, radiant hue.

A brilliant white—tinged with the colors of the rainbow.

“Al Clauseria.”

He thrust forward—not at Subaru’s chest, but at the space between them.

From the tip of the blade, a spiraling beam of spiritual light erupted—an attack not meant to cut the flesh, but to judge the soul itself.

FWOOOOOM—

The beam slammed into Subaru’s chest, washing over him in a tidal burst of rainbow-colored brilliance. The cursed energy—twisted and corrupted by miasma—was ripped away, cleansed in a blinding cascade spiritual energy.

CRAAASH—!!

Subaru was flung across the arena like a ragdoll, smashing into the far wall with enough force to crack the stone. Dust rose. His unconscious form crumpled to the ground.

Silence followed.
Only the sound of the shattered remains of Julius’s wooden sword clattering to the floor—nothing left but a scorched hilt.

---

Felix dropped down beside Subaru in an instant, aura flaring as his healing magic began to pulse.

Reinhard landed moments later, stepping up beside Julius, his expression tight.

“That was too much.” His voice was low. “You could’ve beaten him without calling on your spirits...”

Julius didn’t meet his gaze at first. He simply sheathed the broken hilt at his side.

“I could have. But… I misjudged him.”
He looked back at Subaru’s unconscious body.
“He’s a fool, yes—but one with resolve. I can’t ignore that. So, I returned his sincerity with a bit of effort of my own.”

---

Up in the stands, Satoru Gojo sat perched, arms folded, eyes focused on the fallen boy.

He exhaled through his nose, an odd little smirk tugging at his lips.

“He’s got a lot of explaining to do when he wakes up.”
He tilted his head.
“Because I definitely didn’t teach him that.”

Notes:

I've been on that grind cuz I've been feeling real motivated. Though there won't be another chapter until Saturday atleast.
So see you all then.

Chapter 9: Despair.

Satoru was stood on the other side of the door, leant against a wall- arms crossed, eyes closed. Listening intently at the sounds of various yelling and shouting between both Emilia and Subaru.

“Welp,” Satoru exhaled, stepping forward and rolling his shoulders. “Doesn't sound like it went too well."

Emilia just nodded, not even bothering to say a word in return as she started to walk off.

Satoru didn't bother stopping her, he understood her reasoning after all.

I heard a bit of it but purposefully aired most of it out.. but from what I heard- and the little beating Subaru received from Julius, I doubt he's going to be all good mentally.

He sighed, closing his eyes- pondering back to multiple hours ago...

...

Ferris stepped out from the room, letting out a deep breath.

Emilia seemed nervous, stepping forward. "Is.. is he alright?"

The cat-boy merely nodded. "Nyep~! Of course he is, I'm the best healer around after all~ Just a few hours sleep and he'll be awake."

Before he could speak- movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Crusch Karsten approached with Wilhelm at her side, calm and composed as ever.

Satoru gave a small, respectful nod. “Crusch Karsten. You’re not here just to check on Subaru, I assume?”

Crusch gave a light incline of her head, briefly glancing at Emilia before speaking.

“I propose a temporary alliance. At least until the White Whale is slain. It’s true I seek the merit of the kill… but that isn’t the only reason.”

Satoru’s expression soured, skeptical. “So I help a rival get ahead by handing them glory? Doesn’t sound like the best trade.”

Crusch didn’t flinch. Her eyes shifted toward Wilhelm, who stepped forward, his gaze steady but heavy with purpose.

“I wish for the White Whale’s death more than anything,” he said. “But not for politics. That creature murdered my wife. I’ve waited far too long for this moment, and I refuse to let it die without laying my blade into its flesh.”

As he spoke, emotion cracked through his usual composure. His fists clenched, knuckles pale, voice rough with barely restrained rage.

Satoru’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable behind his shades—though something sharp and subtle glinted beneath. Then, he stepped forward and laid a hand on Wilhelm’s shoulder.

“You’ve got a hell of a loyal servant, Crusch.” He looked back at her, smirking. “Alright. You’ve got a deal. When the time comes, I’ll make sure he gets his chance. As many cuts as he wants.”

Who am I to get in the way of revenge? That’d just make me an asshole, and I'm sure this guys been waiting to kill that beast for a long time. And honestly… I like this guy aswell so..

Wilhelm’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. “Thank you.”

Crusch nodded once, firmly. “I’m aware. And I appreciate it.”

---

Outside the Karsten Estate

Gojo stood in silence, arms folded, sunglasses catching the light of the early day. His usual grin was absent—replaced by a calm, focused stare as Reinhard bowed deeply before Subaru.

“Forgive me… Subaru.”

Subaru blinked, startled, and quickly raised both palms defensively.
“W-Wait—what are you apologizing for? None of this was even your fault.”

Reinhard straightened slowly, his expression solemn.
“As a friend to both Julius and Satoru… I also consider myself a friend to you. And yet—I failed. I stood by while a rift between comrades deepened. My inaction was a failure of virtue.”

He paused, eyes shadowed beneath his red fringe.
“That duel… there was no meaning behind it.”

Subaru frowned. “No meaning?”

Reinhard nodded gently.
“Nothing good came from it. You were hurt—physically and emotionally. Julius, too, has stained his name as a knight. Honor and pride might have driven it, but in the end, you both only lost. So I ask you—why not speak to him? A true, calm conversation. He is a good man… and I believe many misunderstandings could be set right.”

There was a moment of stillness, before Subaru turned his head, only slightly.

“… Look, Reinhard,” Subaru said quietly. “I appreciate it. I really do. You’re a nice guy… maybe too nice. But I can’t accept that proposal.”

He took a breath and turned away, walking forward, his voice hardening.

“We’re done talking. Just go back.”

Reinhard’s eyes widened, brows knitting upward.
“Subaru… then please tell me—why? What did you gain from that duel? All it brought you was pain… even Lady Emili—”

Subaru cut him off coldly, without turning around.
“Just go, Reinhard.”

The long corridor leading out of the estate stretched before him. His footsteps echoed, but he never looked back.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his shades.

Reinhard turned, his gaze meeting Gojo’s. The Sword Saint looked pained—troubled—but not surprised.

Gojo gave him a small nod. “You can head back without me, yeah? I’ll catch up.”

Reinhard hesitated only a moment before bowing slightly.

“Very well… And Satoru—please. Talk to him. He’s clearly not in a good state of mind.”

Gojo’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks.

“I’ve got it. Go on.”

Reinhard departed in silence.

---

SWOOSH—

SWISH—

THUD!!

The sound of fists tearing through the air cracked like thunder across the garden in the Karsten Estate.

Subaru’s attacks came in a storm—blows laced with fury, pain, and desperation. But Gojo hadn’t moved an inch. His body remained still, his posture unshaken, not even disturbing the blades of grass beneath his feet.

His gaze narrowed behind the shades, calm and calculating.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, Gojo’s palm glided along Subaru’s forearm—redirecting the punch with effortless grace.

SWISH—

Subaru spun, pivoting low, and lunged in close. Not with a fist this time—but an elbow, sharp and wild, cleaving through the air like a blade.

It might’ve landed too—if Gojo cared.

Instead, he simply exhaled, not with surprise—just faint disappointment.

He’s lost control of his emotions… it's stronger, but less efficient, if he didn't have a ton of cursed energy to utilize.. he'd already be out cold on the floor.

THUD!!

In a blink, Gojo’s arm rose—intercepting the elbow with a clean forearm block, locking Subaru’s arm in place. In the very next beat—

CRACK—!

A counter-jab, clean and precise, slammed into Subaru’s chest like a truck.

It launched him off his feet—air torn from his lungs, body scraping across the garden in a plume of grass and dust.

Still, Subaru didn’t stay down.

He staggered, chest heaving, limbs trembling—but his will pushed him upright again.

Gojo’s voice broke the quiet.

“We should stop here.”

Subaru didn’t reply. He just snarled, stomping his foot against the ground with a roar—cracking the earth beneath, exposing the dark soil beneath the greenery.

And he charged again.

Gojo sighed.

“Hah… Subaru.”

He didn’t teleport. But to Subaru, it may as well have been.

Gojo’s hand materialized in front of his face—then grasped it.

SWISH—

SMASH!!

Subaru’s back hit the ground with a heavy slam, breath stolen once more. His eyes stared up at the sky, wide—not in pain, but in shock, in anguish because of his weakness.

Gojo stood above him, exhaling through his nose as he rolled his neck and rose upright.

“There’s no point in training until you clear your mind.”

His voice was low, but not cruel. Measured. Honest.

“Your anger? It’s not the problem. As I've said, it can be a weapon—but only if you learn to control it.”

His hands slipped into his pockets, and he looked down at Subaru. The boy hadn’t moved.

“Right now, you’re blaming yourself. Hating yourself. For what happened, for being weak. Right?”

No answer came. None was needed.

Gojo looked to the side.

“I’m not gonna lie to you and say your choices were right—because they weren’t. But the weakness? That’s expected. It’s been less than two weeks since we started.”
“This isn’t some game. There’s no cheat code. No fast track to being strong.”

Subaru’s fists clenched in the grass. His eyes burned—not just from tears, but from rage.

“What the hell would you know about how I feel!?”

His voice cracked, heavy with bitterness.

“You’re perfect! You’ve always been perfect! Strongest guy in the room, born with everything—talent, power, confidence—me?”

He sat up, chest heaving.

“I’ve been a loser my entire life. A shut-in. A nobody!! This world gave me a chance to be something more, and all I’ve done is mess up again and again and again!”

He shouted the last words, pain laced in every syllable. His fists hit the ground beside him, trembling.

Gojo’s voice was calm in response—but underneath it was the low simmer of something old and bitter, scraped raw with years of being everything for everyone, and nothing for himself.

He stood upright again, brushing grass off his suit.

“Yeah. You’re right, but nobody’s perfect either…”

His head tilted slightly, the usual cocky grin absent.
“Being me came with all sorts of responsibilities and utter loneliness for most of my life. I was perfect—as a fighter. Not as a person, I've come to realize only recently.”

He looked up toward the orange sky, as if searching for something beyond it.

“All people cared about—barring a handful later on—were these eyes of mine, and the fact I was a ‘once-in-a-half-millennia prodigy’.. Not to say I ain't grateful for these eyes of mine, but it made me wonder what normality was like sometimes. Nobody cared about Satoru Gojo… only what he could do for the clan. For Jujutsu Society.”

He turned his gaze back to Subaru, eyes sharp again, but not unkind.

“So I might not get fully what you're going through. But I've been lonely- sad, too.. so if you're gonna cry."
He pointed toward Subaru’s chest, lightly but deliberately.

“Then cry. Get it out. But don’t sit there pretending like being broken means you can’t still fight on.”

His hand dropped.

“The only people who stay weak forever are the ones who stop trying.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment—before Gojo added, quieter now:

“I didn’t come all the way to this weird-ass world to train someone who gives up at the very start.”

Subaru’s eyes widened slightly, his throat tightening- though no words came out.

Gojo turned away, leaving Subaru alone with Rem in the vast garden.

---

The Following Day…

Satoru’s gaze narrowed as he strode through the halls of the Roswaal Estate.

Subaru is gone. Rem, too. I can’t sense their presence...

He let out a sharp breath, jaw tightening.

I know I can sleep like the dead sometimes, but still—he wouldn’t just vanish without a word. Not unless he had a damn good reason.

He stopped in front of an open window, wind rustling his silver hair.

"Crusch’ll know… I’ll ask her."

---

Near the Roswaal Estate...

Subaru sprinted down the cobblestone path, cursed energy pulsing through his limbs as night fell thick over the land. His eyes flicked left and right, breath hitching.

“Too quiet…”

Suddenly, a figure cloaked in black appeared directly in front of him.

Subaru skidded to a stop, fists rising instinctively.

“W-What—?”

His eyes widened—more figures surrounded him. Dozens. Maybe more. Too many to count in the darkness.

There’s no way I’m winning this… Do I have to die again already?

But then—without a word—they bowed… and vanished into the night.

Subaru stood still, heart pounding in his ears.

“…The hell was that?”

---

Arlam Village and the Manor…

I’m back… finally...

He jogged into the village—but stopped. The stillness was unnatural. Buildings stood undisturbed, but lifeless. Not a soul stirred.

Something's wrong.

The smell hit him next—burning, rotting flesh. He gagged, then stumbled forward—until he found them.

Corpses. Dozens of villagers piled together. Slashed. Burned. Limbs mangled beyond recognition.

“A-Aah… w-what is this…?” he whispered, voice trembling.

“Rem...? Where is she?!”

He pushed forward, panic mounting with each step. She’s strong. She’ll be okay. She has to be…

He reached the shattered gates of the Roswaal Estate.

Her weapon—Rem’s—lay discarded in the courtyard, chain snapped, metal glinting red under the sun.

He turned—and froze.

There she was.

Rem.

Cold. Lifeless. A blade pierced through her chest. Her face, still and peaceful, seemed to mock the agony clawing at Subaru’s heart.

He dropped to his knees.

Tears streamed.

Why...?

The garden was filled with bodies—cloaked in black. The very same outfit he'd ran into in the forest. Torn apart.

He moved forward like a ghost, into the wooden hut nearby.

He shouldn't have.

He vomited.

Children. Piled. Broken. Eyes wide and vacant.

No. Nononono… NO! This is wrong…!

He staggered toward the estate.

I’ve been training… getting stronger… this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Inside—he pushed open a door.

Two bodies spilled out.

Ram. Her face soaked in blood, lips parted as if frozen mid-cry.

Petra. Her eyes were gone, torn from their sockets- dried blood pooling from her head and lips in obscene amounts.

Subaru screamed. And screamed. But it wasn’t enough.

Is this all my fault? I should’ve—no. I should’ve done something…

“It’s not my fault… it’s not…”

He stumbled forward, following the blood. To an unfamiliar door.

So cold. The air bit his skin like razors.

She could still be alive… please…

He reached for the handle.

CRACK—

His hand shattered.

“A-AAHH!!”

He stumbled back, just before his leg split from beneath him—ice creeping over the floor like death incarnate.

He looked around.

Bodies. Frozen. Cloaked assassins. Caught mid-movement. Mid-scream.

He tried to scream too.

But nothing came out.

CRACK—

The world faded to black.

And Natsuki Subaru died.

Chapter 10: Sloth and Greed.

Gojo scowled, fists clenched tight as he stared down at Subaru.

Or rather—what was left of him.

His eyes weren’t quite lifeless, but they were void of reason. Hollow. Beneath them, deep patches of bruised skin bloomed—proof of relentless crying, of a mind that had shattered quietly in the dark.

“What the hell happened to him…?” Gojo muttered. “He was fine just a day ago. Went out with Rem, seemed stable—and now he’s like this?”

He grimaced. None of it added up.

Did something I say break him? No… that doesn't feel right. Subaru wasn’t fragile enough for words alone to do this.

But then what is? How does someone just... unravel overnight?

Crusch crossed her arms, a pensive look on her face. “Then what are the odds it’s a curse?”

Ferris shook his head, lips tight with frustration. “Pretty low. I’ve combed every inch of him, inside and out. Healed what I could—physically, he’s fine. But he’s still like this.”

Crusch’s gaze drifted toward Rem, softening. “I’m truly sorry. If even Felix can’t fix this… no one here can.”

Rem bowed slightly, managing a faint smile. “Thank you. Both of you—for your efforts and your concern.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, looking Rem’s way. “I’ll be going with you. What kind of teacher would I be if I ditched my only student when he’s like this?”

---

The carriage wheels groaned as they cut along the dirt path.

Gojo sat in the back, eyes fixed on Subaru—who hadn't moved, spoken, or even blinked properly in a day. The only times he responded at all were when Rem gently coaxed him to eat or sleep. Even then, it was like guiding a ghost.

This just doesn’t make sense. No wounds. No curse. Not even a hint of foul energy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s... grieving..?

But grieving what?

He frowned, flexing his fingers unconsciously. I could teleport us back to the estate… but with my current limit, I can only bring two people at a time and I can't exactly spam it- hurts the old brain. Meaning we’d have to split up for a duration—and that’s too risky with Subaru in this state.

Rem sat silently across from him, posture stiff, gaze locked forward.

"...It's too quiet," she murmured. "Right, Satoru-sama?"

Gojo nodded. “I’m in agreement—”

But then her body jolted.

His eyes widened.

Rem pitched forward, clutching her chest, breath ragged and panicked.

“What—what’s wr—?!”

He didn't finish the sentence.

WHISTLE—

Instinct took over.

A projectile screamed through the air, cleaving clean through the ground dragon’s neck. Its massive body spasmed, then crumpled—slamming into the road and launching the carriage into the air.

Gojo bent his knees, propelling himself from his seat, body a blur. In a flash, he reached forward, grabbed Subaru by the collar, and yanked him out mid-arc—just before the carriage twisted and shattered on impact against the ground.

Boots hit dirt.

He landed hard, skidding several meters with Subaru in tow, shielding him from the debris raining down behind them.

Rem’ll be fine. She’s strong. That kind of hit wouldn’t be enough to drop her.

But something else caught his attention.

He raised his head.

Dozens—no, scores—of cloaked figures encircled them. Each brandished strange daggers, glinting unnaturally under the sunlight.

Gojo stared.

Then tilted his head.

“The hell…?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Did we take a wrong turn and end up at a goddamn comi-con?”

Gojo’s stance shifted, heels digging deeper into the dirt, posture like a coiled spring ready to detonate.

One cultist charged—a dagger gleaming under the moonlight, lunging straight for his chest.

Satoru didn’t flinch. His smirk only widened.

He raised one hand, and with it pulsed a shimmering blue aura, bending space like a ripple in still water.

SWOOSH—

The cultist’s body snapped forward, yanked off his feet by a force that defied gravity and logic.

Gojo leaned slightly—in preparation of the approaching figure—then unleashed...

His fist tore through the air.

SMASH—

It caved into the cultist’s chest, obliterating ribs and spine in a single blow and tore through the opposing end in a haze of red that splashed onto the ground.

A breath later—THUD!—Gojo’s foot collided with the mangled body, launching it like a missile into a nearby tree. The wood shattered on impact, blood misting the bark in a crimson spray.

WHISTLE—THUNK!

A head rolled near his feet. Rem’s flanged mace boomeranged through the crowd like death itself incarnate, severing another cultist’s head from their shoulders.

"GET AWAY FROM SUBARU, YOU BASTARD WITCH CULTISTS!!" she roared.

More cultists responded, drawing hidden daggers and hurling them toward Rem atop the wrecked carriage.

They froze mid-air.

Gojo’s eyes gleamed beneath his shades. “Blue.”

A flick of his wrist.

The daggers reversed course—violently—hurtling back toward the crowd of robed figures like a storm of jagged death.

SHLK—SHLK—THUNK—THUD—

Each cultist was impaled in a grotesque instant, limbs flailing, bodies collapsing in heaps, bludgeoning them like a pin-cushion.

They're weak, Gojo thought, eyes scanning the treeline. Infinity protects me—and Subaru while I’m holding him. But still...

He turned toward Rem—bloodied, furious, relentless.

She fought like a demon, her rage making her blind to the damage she was taking. Her knuckles bled, her body bruised—but she didn’t stop.

Gojo frowned.

If I go full output with Blue… it’ll wipe this entire area. Including her.. so I kinda gotta hold back.

Another cultist lunged.

A dagger hung inches from Gojo’s face—suspended, unmoving.

SQUELCH—

Gojo's fist rocketed upward, smashing into the cultist’s jaw.

The ground cracked beneath their feet from the force.

The head burst—like an overripe fruit under pressure.

Does that change the fact these guys are nothing more than worms..? Hell no.

He pivoted without pause.

Rem, mid-air, didn’t see the dagger aimed for her back.

Gojo appeared behind her in a flash, one hand clamping down on her shoulder—his other palm intercepting the dagger mere centimeters from her spine.

“Hoomph—!”

He grunted as he thrust the dagger backward with terrifying force.

It didn't just return—it rocketed through the cultist, impaling him and the tree behind him like a harpoon through paper.

---

They landed, Ram growling- pupils shrunken, blood dripping down over one eye.

“Rem—Rem, listen to me!”

His voice sliced through her rage.

She blinked. Breathing hard. Just barely registering his words.

“Take Subaru and go. Now. I’ll handle the rest. They can’t touch me, and I’ll be faster without the dead weight.”

“B-But—”

“Five minutes.” His voice dropped. Calm. Absolute.

She bit her lip.

Then nodded—scooping Subaru in her arms and bolting into the forest path, vanishing into the trees.

Gojo’s eyes followed them—then snapped toward the ones giving chase.

“Not a chance.”

He moved.

Fast.

One cultist was mid-sprint when Gojo flipped overhead, heel crashing down into his spine.

CRUNCH—!!

The body slammed into the dirt, his foot planting against the cultists' head as he rode the man like a surfboard, carcass tearing a line through the dirt in a wild spray of debris.

Gojo’s hand reached outward—Blue pulsing around his fingers. Another cultist chasing Rem was yanked backward by invisible force.

Gojo exhaled—then flicked his wrist.

The man was launched—his body careening into a tree with such force the trunk splintered like glass, erupting in shards of bark and blood that stopped inches away from him.

---

Gojo stood still for a moment.

“Haah... Been a while since I've let loose..”

He reached up, slid his sunglasses down, and pocketed them.

His eyes—those impossibly vivid cerulean eyes—shone like stars in the dark.

They were not calm, they were dark.

Focused.

And finally unchained.

A grin curled on his lips.

“Now that Subaru’s not over my shoulder...”

He let out a breath.. and slowly, calmly raised his hand to the air.

“Maximum Output...”

---

Rem sprinted, ignoring the EXPLOSION in the distance from where Satoru was, the wind cutting at her cheeks as the foliage blurred past her in streaks of green and shadow. Her horn shimmered faintly in the darkness—like a beacon in the gloom.

Subaru... She clutched his limp body tighter, the rhythm of her heart matching each step in frantic unison.

Satoru-sama will be fine.
She didn’t know him well—but she didn’t need to. She had felt it. The overwhelming pressure of his power. His control.

He's strong. Unbreakable.

She glanced down at Subaru again. His face was blank, eyes dull, his body heavy in her arms—like a porcelain doll hollowed out.

But her gaze didn’t falter.

He trusted me. With Subaru. With this mission.
So I won't let either of them down.
Not Gojo. Not my hero. Not the boy who saved me when I was nothing.

“I’ll be the one to save him this time...!” she whispered, breath ragged, pushing harder.

---

Then, suddenly—

A figure.

Just ahead, framed by twisted tree limbs like a grotesque painting.

He stood unnaturally still—limbs loose, spine slack, face half-shrouded by a cloak drenched in shadows.

Then he twitched.

“I... can see it...”

The voice was sharp, airy—high and cracked like glass under strain.

“Oh yes, yesyesyesyesss...!”
He staggered forward, body convulsing—bones cracking as if his limbs didn’t belong to him. His back arched unnaturally, then snapped forward again like a marionette on broken strings.

“How BLESSED am I,” he rasped, eyes widening, “to feel the Witch’s LOVE... so... so devoutly...!”

Rem froze. Every hair on her body stood on end.

She stepped back, clutching Subaru tighter.

The man’s head cocked to the side—his neck bending just a little too far. His fingers twitched as if plucking invisible strings in the air.

“It’s him, isn’t it...? Yes... yes...” His gaze dropped to Subaru. “From him... such dense love... it oozes from every inch of his blessed soul...”

He trembled violently—then threw his arms wide.

“HE IS TRULY.. TRULYTRULYTRULYYYYY...”

He arched his back and screamed to the heavens—

“..BLESSED!!!”

The forest seemed to recoil with him—leaves fluttering, birds scattering into the night.

Rem’s eyes narrowed, her teeth gritting hard.

Blood filled her mouth—she had bitten her tongue again without realizing.

Her voice was cold, controlled.

“Who are you...?”

The horn on her head began to glow brighter.

Her grip tightened.

“Answer me, you FILTHY WITCH CULTIST!!”

The forest air grew heavy—dense with cursed energy and madness. The shadows themselves seemed to shrink from the figure in front of Rem, as though unwilling to linger near such twisted insanity.

He was hunched like a beast, arms limp, swaying unnaturally with each twitch and spasm. His eyes were wide—too wide—bloodshot and trembling with glee. A torn robe clung to his wiry frame, inked with the symbol of the Witch's Cult.

“Who...?” he echoed, voice lilting like a lullaby set to static. “Who am I...?”

He tilted his head, bones audibly crunching as if the motion required more force than a human body should allow.

“Oh, no.. nono-nO..NONONOO!! HOW SLOOOOOOTHFUL OF ME TO NOT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF...!!!"

Tears swelled in his eyes, hands gripping both sides of his face as he clutched them with enough force to tear flesh and draw blood. Then, he bowed- body almost breaking- one arm extended out, head hanging inches from ground.

"I am but a humble vessel of LOVE!! Of WORSHIP... Of GRATITUDE!!!"

"Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult.. Representing Sloth... Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti!"

His mouth stretched into a manic grin, twitching and twisting as if struggling to contain the madness boiling beneath the surface.

“Now.. where.. where was I..?!- Love! Yes! I can feel it! That boy—he reeeeeeks of it! The witch’s blessing, so potent it makes me TREEEMBLE!!”

His limbs convulsed again, spasming as he dragged his feet forward in erratic lurches.

Rem’s heart thundered in her chest, but she stood her ground, even as her muscles screamed at her to flee.

No.

She shifted Subaru in her arms to one side, gently, securely. Her other hand gripped her morning star. The horn on her forehead glowed brighter—her full power blooming as mana radiated from her like a storm on the verge of breaking.

She growled, breath steaming in the night air. “I’ll crush every last one of you, until there’s no trace of this cult left in the world.”

Betelgeuse froze—then began to cackle, madly, uncontrollably.

“HhheheheHEHEHE!! Such LOVE!! In YOU too!! The strength to protect... such noble LOVE! But it is foolish...”

He raised both arms skyward, his body vibrating with uncontainable glee.

“Because the love of the Witch... cannot be defied!!”

Rem's horn pulsed. Her grip on the mace tightened.

Her eyes narrowed, blood boiling.

"I'll make you regret ever trying to get your disgusting hands on Subaru!!"

.. CRUNCH-?!

---

Satoru scowled, standing amidst a sea of shredded corpses. Blood soaked the earth, bones cracked and torn — but he remained untouched. Not a scratch on him. Not even a crease in his attire.

His gaze swept the carnage. “So... this is the Witch Cult’s doing?”

His voice was low, irritated.

“What the hell do they want with us?”

The question gnawed at him — but he forced it down.

Now’s not the time. Rem. Subaru.. hopefully they are doing good.

He turned on his heel—

And froze.

Eyes narrowed. Mind sharpened.

Someone was there.. since when? how?

A man.

Yet—no presence. No spiritual pressure, as if there was simply an ERROR in the very fabric of space stood before him.
Nothing.

I can’t sense him at all. Not even Reinhard felt like this.

The man was... immaculate. Skin pale as bleached ivory. Hair snow-white. And those eyes — glinting gold, like molten arrogance. He moved with eerie poise, one hand behind his back as though greeting an honored guest at a tea party, not walking into a massacre.

Gojo’s breath stilled for just a moment.

My eyes don’t lie.

He clenched a fist.

This guy is strong.

Even the ground beneath his feet—untouched. Ignoring the blood, the cracks. As if he didn't even exist.

Satoru’s expression tightened.

“...Who are you?”

The man stopped.

And smiled.

Not friendly. Not cruel.

Just infuriatingly composed.

He raised a hand, graceful and deliberate — and began to speak in a voice so smug, so measured, it almost grated against reality.

“Ah, excellent. I’m glad someone here still has the decency for manners. Truly. Far too many these days rush forward like beasts without the slightest trace of etiquette. But you—you asked. That alone, sir, puts you well above the drooling masses I’ve come to expect.”

He gave a bow — slight, practiced — his golden eyes never leaving Gojo’s.

“And so, in accordance with the natural laws of mutual respect, it would be unjust of me not to answer you.”

He placed a hand on his chest — the smile still firmly in place.

“.. Sin-Archbishop of the Witch's Cult.. Representing Greed....”
“—Regulus Corneas.”

Notes:

So yeah, it's our favorite, completely innocent golden-eyed character.

I'm sure that cliffhanger might be a bit annoying, but it'll just make the next chapter all the more exciting. ;)

Chapter 11: Little King and The Honored One.

“Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult, bearer of the Right of Greed. A position not merely given, mind you, but earned, through purity, through principle, and through perfection of self.”

He chuckled softly, head tilting.

“Ah, but I imagine that doesn't mean much to someone like you. You reek of chaos... power without purpose. Just doing what you like, am I right? Tch..”

Gojo didn’t speak. His gaze hardened.

Regulus stepped forward again, voice rising ever so slightly.

“See, what people never understand—what they’re too stupid to grasp—is that I am a just man. I live with clarity. I do not like to fight, I do not steal, I do not compromise, I do not submit. I simply take what is rightfully mine. That’s not greed. That’s order. That’s love. That’s what it means to be free.”

He spread his arms slightly, chest lifting, as if expecting applause.

“And really... what is a sin, if not the world’s rejection of a man who refuses to be bound by its.. hypocrisy?”

The air around them was still, far too still.

Gojo lowered his head slightly. His mouth curved upward into a humorless smirk.

“...Huh. You really talk a lot.”

Regulus blinked, his brows furrowing.

“Excuse me..?”

Gojo raised his eyes again — blue pupils shimmering beneath his snowy lashes.

“I said you talk too much, dude.”

The space between them hung like glass, fragile and full of tension.

Regulus tilted his head, that smug smile unwavering, yet a tint of annoyance was hidden in his tone. "You think I'm being excessive? Hmph. That’s typical! The moment someone speaks with reason... TRUE reason.. people call it rambling! But let me ask you- what’s worse? Speaking at length with clarity, or speaking and acting without thinking at all?"

Gojo said nothing.

He simply stood, one hand slowly sliding out of his pocket in preparation.

Regulus stepped closer.

“Silence? A wise decision indeed! Better to be quiet and considered thoughtful than speak and remove all doubt, isn’t that how the saying goes? But then again, I suppose I am speaking quite a bit. It’s just that when you’ve attained true understanding, when you've tasted the absolute.. your words tend to... linger.”

Gojo's voice came at last. Quiet. Dry.

"You really love the sound of your own voice don't you? I mean.. it's starting to get on my nerves already and you've only been speaking for a few minutes.. damn dude."

A slight tic crossed Regulus's cheek. Brief- but the smile returned quickly.

"Words are the measure of will.. The manifestation of one's ideals. Unlike people who skulk around using brute force like common thugs...! I define myself through thought. Through virtue. That is why I alone am righteous."

He clenched his fist behind his back, voice tightening with restrained fervor.

“Others simply act, selfishly, recklessly.. you look like one of those. Strong, perhaps, but foolish. Dangerous. Unruly. I despise that. Men like you trample values, impose will without consent. That, my friend, is the true sin.”

Gojo stepped forward. Just once.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t fast.

But suddenly, Regulus wasn’t smiling quite as widely.

Gojo exhaled lightly, almost amused.

“I’ve heard a lot of egomaniacs ramble before,” he said, fingers flicking the air idly. “But this? You talk like a guy who like.. ate a whole dictionary or something stupid like tha!"

He tilted his head.

"And I still don’t know what you want coming here.. to me.”

Regulus’s pupils sharpened. He let out a slow, tight breath.

“What I want is justice,” he said, tone pitched low. “To preserve what is rightfully mine. She is mine. Her love, her gaze, her attention! All of it was taken from me.. That boy you and that little demon protect—”
He pointed vaguely toward the trees. “—he is a thief. And I am the hand of rightful retribution as it should be."

Gojo’s smirk faded, a brow raising.

“You’re talking about Subaru...?”

“I’m talking,” Regulus said, voice growing harsher, “about a world that allows parasites like him to squirm into hearts that do not belong to them. I’m talking about the lawlessness of emotion! Where anyone can claim another’s soul without contract, without permission, without the divine right of possession.”

He straightened, tone rising, righteous fury blooming under his tongue.

“I am not cruel. I am not the villain. I am the only man who knows what it means to truly love... to own something so completely it can never leave you. That is not greed. That is devotion in its purest, most sacred form!”

Gojo’s hand flexed, balling into a fist.

A breeze passed.

He didn’t speak immediately.

Regulus stepped forward again.

Gojo blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

There's literally nothing when I look at him. It feels no different than when I look at empty space, as if he doesn't even exist.

Regulus now stood within arm's reach.

“You joke. But I find that deeply offensive,” he said, the venom behind his words cloaked in civility. “You see, violence is barbarism. It is a tool for those with no capacity for argument. A man who swings his fists is one who’s already lost the debate.”

Gojo’s smile came back.

“Well, good news then.”

His gaze sharpened — the glow in his Six Eyes pulsed.

“I didn’t come here to debate.”

Gojo didn’t hesitate.
No retreat, no warning.. only raw, immediate offense.

His fist tore through the air with a ferocity unlike anything he’d unleashed before. A swift flash accompanied the motion, his knuckles colliding with Regulus’s cheek at bone-breaking velocity, the sound of the impact came a half-second after the shockwave.

BOOM—

The region convulsed.

A violent ripple exploded outward from the point of contact, the ground shattering beneath their feet. Chunks of earth tore loose, flung skyward in a storm of rock and debris. The nearest trees didn’t sway... they snapped at the trunks like brittle twigs, crashing down in a cascade of splintered wood and rustling leaves.

And Regulus?

He was launched like a missile. His body carved a trench across the dirt path, skidding with unnatural smoothness through destruction, his white coat fluttering in the wind like paper on fire.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, glancing down at his fist in confusion.

That felt wrong. Too light... Like I hit.. nothing..?

Regulus slammed through a thick tree trunk, the wood exploded outward in splinters before he finally came to a stop.

His legs extended downward, driving into the ground like spears, carving twin furrows in the earth right up to his ankles.

Then.. disturbingly composed- he stood upright.

His expression was twisted with disgust, golden eyes narrow with contempt. He adjusted his cuff with surgical precision.

“You dare...? Even after I've treat you with such niceties?”

His voice wasn’t loud — but it carried.

And with a single step of his foot forward, the world roared.

Gojo’s instincts screamed.

He didn’t see an attack. Didn’t hear anything. But every fiber of his being pulled at him to move — now.

Dodge.

But dodge what exactly..?

He didn't know, but still, his instincts never lie.. he kicked off the ground in a blur, twisting mid-air into a diagonal arc just as the world behind him collapsed.

WOOOOOM—

A colossal void of force — invisible, but absolute — roared past.

A column of wind and pressure devoured the space where he had just stood.

Not destroyed — erased. The trees, rocks, even the dirt beneath — simply gone. Wiped from existence in a perfect, soundless sphere several meters wide.

Silence.

Then the remaining pressure rushed outward — the aftershock enough to throw branches from trees like they were glass shards.

Gojo landed in a crouch, sliding backward, breath tight.

A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.

He stared at the blank crater. His brain registered what had just happened with clinical clarity.

I would’ve died.

Just like that. No drama. No drawn-out struggle. Just... gone.

His gaze rose, locking onto Regulus — who hadn’t moved an inch from where he stood.

Nothing.
Not a scratch.
Not even his clothes were wrinkled.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed. His fists trembled, just slightly.

This guy is too strong. I can't win. Not like this. But... do I even have a choice?

Satoru exhaled sharply, rising from his crouch with a new weight behind his eyes. The usual smug confidence had faded, replaced with cold calculation — and something else.

Determination.

Regulus stood idly, a smirk pulling at his lips. A lone leaf drifted in front of him amidst the chaos. He watched it fall with a kind of delicate fascination.

SWOOSH—

He flicked it. That was all.

The leaf howled through the air like a bullet.

Gojo’s eyes snapped wide. He barely twisted in time — but it was too late.

A thin line split across his cheek. Blood welled up instantly, sliding down the side of his face. The cut was narrow, but it was real.

He touched it, fingers trembling against his skin. For a moment, he just stared.

I’ve… never actually been hurt before. Not like this... it's strange.

Not since he awakened. Not ever since Infinity had become part of him.

“Ah,” Regulus said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re quiet now. That’s good. It means you understand your place. But there’s no need to despair... I am, after all, a merciful man.”

He spread his arms wide, posture perfectly regal, almost serene.

“If you get on your knees and beg—really beg—I’ll grant you a death without pain. Isn’t that generous?”

Gojo didn’t speak. His chin lowered slightly. His jaw clenched.

This fucking guy.
I’ve never wanted to beat someone so badly.

Then, a flick of Regulus’s wrist.
"No..? Well then. Don't forget I did offer."

Gojo moved instantly, evading the approaching, unstoppable torrent that eviscerated what resided before he VANISHED-

SWISH-!
He vanished, reappearing behind Regulus with his palm outstretched — closing around the Archbishop’s face in a blink.

There was no sound.

And then—

SMASH—!!

Regulus’s skull cratered through the side of a massive tree, wood splintering in a violent burst. The tree never had the chance to fall. Before gravity could even react—

"Don't you-"

He twisted on one foot like a dancer, rotating a full circle before burying his shin into Regulus’s neck. The blow echoed like thunder, sending the Archbishop’s body flying — bulldozing through the forest, tearing down trees like brittle matchsticks.

"-Get it yet?!"

Still… not a scratch...?

Gojo didn’t stop.

Instead, he blinked, disappearing and reappearing midair just before Regulus stopped tumbling.

SWISH-!
Gojo’s hand locked around the back of his neck.

But Regulus didn’t budge this time around. Not even slightly.

“Have you had your fun?”

It wasn’t mockery. It wasn’t even anger.
It was… condescension...

Then he pivoted.

A slow, almost lazy twist of his body — and he drove a punch into Gojo’s gut.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t fast.

But it connected.

And Gojo..

He flew...

His spine ripped against the ground, smashing through trees, rock, brush — everything. Hundreds of meters blurred past in a chaos of splinters and dirt before—

CRACK—!!

He hit a mountain.

His body buried into the base of it, tearing into stone and soil until he disappeared inside the rock. Chunks of debris caved in over him, a tomb of pulverized earth with Satoru Gojo in the center.

For a long second, there was silence.

Then—

“G-Gghhaah...”

Gojo groaned. One foot kicked forward, and the crater erupted as the debris above was obliterated in a single motion. He dragged himself out, legs wobbling, blood dripping down his brow.

His entire back was raw — burned, torn open, splintered by embedded wood.

I don’t get it...

Nothing I do works. But everything he does hurts a LOT. Even the fucking environment damaged me when I got flung by him, how does that even make sense?

Blood ran into his eye. He blinked it away, only to see Regulus again — whole. Untouched.

Majestic.

For all of Gojo’s power, his elegance, his untouchable reputation — he had always been the one who felt like a god.

But now?

Regulus stood like marble brought to life. No dirt. No bruises. No tension in his posture.

Just perfection.

The Sin Archbishop of Greed.

And for the second time in his life...

Gojo Satoru was no longer the strongest in the room.

Gojo stared, breath ragged.

Each pulse of pain in his ribs, the sting on his cheek, the blood sliding into his eye — it was all real. For the first time in his life, pain felt like a revelation.

Regulus didn’t move.

He simply stood with one hand behind his back, the other lazily brushing nonexistent dust from his cuff. His golden eyes glowed, almost serene, as though he stood in a church, not a battlefield.

Then, he began to speak.

“You look surprised.”

Gojo didn’t answer. He just squared his stance again, bruised but ready.

Regulus smiled wider. “Of course you are. It’s natural. You believed yourself invincible, a god among men."

He took a single step forward. The air shivered.

How does he even know all this about me?

“But now... you've seen something that contradicts that false illusion of yours, haven't you?”

Gojo’s hand twitched, clamping into fists.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” Regulus gestured toward the faint gash across Gojo’s cheek. “That tiny little cut. So small, but so very loud, yes..? Do you know why it exists?”

Gojo's lips were a thin line in waiting silence.

Regulus's voice dropped — not in volume, but in tone. It grew colder, heavier. Holier.

“My 'Authority'. My reality.”

He spread his arms wide, as if preaching to a crowd.

“I am the one true constant. The ever unchanging. The uncontaminated. The perfect. What you see before you is not power. It is not strength. It is purity. An absolute state of self.”

Another step. The air warped again, eviscerating an entire row of trees to his left as a mere means of flexing his power.

“I exist in a world without compromise. Without interference. Without distortion. The moment something affects me? It ceases to exist as a valid concept. I do not ‘defend’ myself. I am simply not affected.”

His smile darkened.

“Everything you’ve done? Every blow, every technique, every reality-warping principle you’ve hurled at me?” He shook his head.
“Irrelevant. Invalid. Merely allowed to land, yet also denied.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

“So... when you punched me?” Regulus continued calmly. “You weren’t ‘too slow,’ nor was I ‘too strong.’ Your attack was simply allowed, but in-affective. Therefore, do not delude yourself to be all-powerful.."

His smile remained, widening only further.
"..Especially not before the all-powerful."

Silence lingered.

“…Don’t really care,” Gojo said, cracking his neck with a loose grin. “Punching you is fun.”

He stood upright, head tilted, voice unwavering.
“I won’t be dying here, either.”

Regulus exhaled slowly, exasperated — not injured, not even ruffled. Just... irritated.

Infinity means nothing to him. Limitless doesn’t apply.

He’s not ignoring my attacks... they’re just not entering his reality.

As far as I know, there's nothing I can do to him if my understanding of his 'Authority' is correct.

Gojo’s gaze darkened, thought racing.
One thing that can atleast help my odds at survival.. Reverse Cursed Technique… No... not just healing. It’s creation. Positive energy born from clashing negatives. Pure power formed through contradiction…

He remembered Yaga’s lectures — ones he once dismissed with the arrogance of a prodigy.

“Reverse energy is a contradiction. You generate positive energy by multiplying two negative charges. It might not make sense at first. And it's stupidly difficult. But that’s exactly why it's powerful.”

And suddenly...
A lightbulb clicked into place.

Gojo’s eyes widened, then his grin exploded, splitting into wild laughter.

“Kehehe... BAAHAHAHA!!”

Regulus frowned, scoffing.

“Oh? Is that what desperation looks like on you?” he asked, voice dipped in venomous amusement. “Or is it delusion, perhaps?”

But before he could speak another word...

CRACK—

Gojo’s foot splintered the ground, launching him forward at blinding speed.

Regulus didn’t flinch, but his brows furrowed.

“What are you, some kind of primate? How many times must I carve the truth into that thick skull of yours?!”

He barked, extending an arm — but Gojo didn’t strike.

He flipped overhead instead — graceful, measured — a somersault propelled by pure technique. He landed behind Regulus, palm extended, stance sharp.

Regulus turned, a flicker of uncertainty passing over his face.

Gojo stood there — completely healed. Blood dried, skin reformed, aura blazing.

“I’ve got a student waiting for me,” he muttered, lips curling.

Two fingers and a thumb formed a gesture like a gun.

"Cursed Technique Reversal…."

A crimson spark ignited at his fingertip.

     “Red.”

The orb burst forward — not to injure, but to knock Regulus off-balance. It slammed into him like a battering ram, launching his body skyward in a twisting, uncontrolled spiral. Dirt and rock flayed beneath him as he shot up the mountain side — all the way near the peak, tearing through chunks of rock and stone.

Regulus clicked his tongue in annoyance. The air around him froze — not with ice or anything physical, but with sheer stillness — and his body halted midair, boot tapping lightly against the mountain's surface overhead.

TAP— CRACK—!!

The pressure of his landing ruptured the cliff face- a landslide followed.

Hundreds of boulders tumbled down like an avalanche, crashing toward Gojo’s path.

But Gojo didn’t flinch.
He inhaled, crouched, and lunged upward with perfect control.

He danced.

Between boulders. Around debris. Off crumbling, falling surfaces.
Every movement was fluid- a step, a weave, a launch. As if the chaos was choreographed.

He burst through the final cluster of falling rock — and there they were again, face-to-face, suspended above the mountain.

Regulus floated effortlessly — literally standing on air. He didn’t fly. He simply ignored gravity.

Gojo levitated differently. His presence twisted the very space around him.. Limitless pulling at reality’s threads to hold him aloft.

“You insufferable FOOL!” Regulus snarled, thrusting a hand outward- his wrist flicking to throw air.

The air warped — not visibly, not audibly — but fatally. An invisible force howled from his palm, unstoppable.

FWOOOM—

A section of Gojo’s side was eradicated outright- flesh, muscle, one of his arms- ripped into the void.

But...

He didn’t flinch.

He grinned.

SWOOSH—

His remaining arm screamed through the air, faster than any strike before — it slammed into Regulus’s jaw, rocking his skull backward and sending shockwaves rippling through the mountaintop.

CRACKLE—

“-BLACK FLASH!!”

The space itself rippled from the cursed energy’s perfect sync.
Regulus’s body didn’t bruise — but his expression twitched in annoyance.

Gojo’s wound sealed — fresh flesh regenerating in it's place, muscle manifesting, growing- intertwining at a rapid pace.

Regulus growled, lashing back. He grabbed Gojo by the collar and spun, smashing him into the rock face with bone-crunching force.

THUD—!

Blood sprayed from Gojo’s temple against contact with the mountain, though as soon as it happened... his head swiftly began to heal, torn mind stitching shut once more as if working overtime.

“—!!”

Eyes wide, Gojo twisted his neck just in time—

WHIP—!!

A razor-thin beam of air scythed through space- slicing clean through a chunk of his face and the mountainside behind, punching a tunnel out the other side.

Gojo grinned madly, the gash visibly closing yet again, teeth behind his cheek still visible as tattered flesh overlapped.

SWISH—!

Mimicking Regulus’s move, Gojo seized his collar, twisted, and drove a punch down like a meteor.

His eyes dulled — total focus in his gaze.

“-BLACK FLASH!!”

Regulus was rocketed downward, breaking cloud cover. The forest canopy reappeared below.

Gojo’s chest heaved. He wasn’t done just yet..

“Blue… Maximum Output—!!”

A massive sphere bloomed in the sky — a gravitational void that screamed across space after Regulus though soon purposefully dispersing.

It never needed to land though, that wasn't it's purpose.

Instead, it dragged thousands of chunks of mountain — all the debris from their battle — downward like an avalanche made from otherworldly force.

They fell, every rock targeting a single point on the worlds surface-

Regulus.

The sky rained destruction that blocked out the sun.
The impact trembled the entire area, a portion of the forest.

Gojo hovered above the chaos, breath ragged, blood still dripping from half-healed wounds.

He looked out, scanning.

His voice rasped.

“…Gotta be quick.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Where’s Subaru...?”

Though his brows furrowed. There were dozens of presences somewhat near to Regulus just outside the reach of all the anarchy, his six-eyes informed him so.

There were atleast a hundred down there, all unfamiliar.

Cultists..? I don't sense Rem or Subaru.. and I've gotta be quick with that monster soon to burst out of the little mountain I've made for him...

---

Rem’s body hung limply, her eyes hidden beneath a curtain of pale bangs, utterly lifeless. Yet she floated — suspended by an unseen force that cruelly shattered and contorted her bones into grotesque, elongated angles.

Subaru’s anguished screams echoed violently against the cold cave walls. His arms strained desperately against the chains binding him, skin tearing raw beneath the brutal friction.

Tears streamed freely from his bloodshot eyes.
“I’LL KILL YOU... I— I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!”

Petelgeuse’s grin stretched wider, arms outstretched in mock celebration.
“Ah! At last, you’ve chosen to truly speak! Such passion, such feeeeeeervor! Thank you, thank YOU-!! fellow devotee of LOVE!”

Subaru continued to wrench at the chains, a whirlwind of mindless rage, forgetting everything he had learned about cursed energy — all the hard-earned control.

The Archbishop of Sloth turned his back, still grinning madly despite the loss of his many comrades, felled by the now lifeless Rem.
“Oh my... This place has truly become quite messy, hasn’t it?! Alright, alright!”

He clapped his hands sharply.
“Men, resume your duties and rendezvous with the other Fingers — yes!”

Suddenly...

THUD-! CRASH-!

The cave ceiling was torn apart by a strange, radiant blue force. Rocks didn’t fall.. they were swallowed, absorbed — deleted.

A flood of light poured into the cavern where Petelgeuse and Subaru stood.

“You fucking sicko.”

The voice rang out as a fist slammed into Petelgeuse’s face with immense force, sending his body flying across the cave and slamming into a distant wall with an explosive thud.

His brows lifted in a chaotic mixture of surprise and rage as he staggered forward, reaching to pry the chains off Subaru, tossing them aside.

He stared in shock at Rem’s mangled form in anger and digust — but somehow...

She lives..?

Subaru rushed over, cradling her fragile body, eyes wide with desperation. Her voice was quiet, dim.
“Please... live... I— I love you... Subaru....”

Then — the air shifted, growing heavier...

From the shadows, Petelgeuse reemerged — his face grotesquely crushed, one eye nearly hanging from its socket, nose shattered beyond recognition.

“How... HOWHOWHOWHOWHOW?! IT IS INCONCEIVABLE! MY BRAIN... MY BRAAAAAIN... IT TREMBLES SO VERYVERYVERYYYY MUCH... YOU... HOW ARE YOU UNAFFECTED?!”

He didn’t speak further, merely locked eyes with Subaru, who readied to charge. Then, a voice....

“...You have truly outraged me beyond all reason. You have trampled over my rights, and the mercy I respectfully offered — only to scorn it, attacking me like some mindless beast!”

Regulus emerged from the darkness, his form still unchanged despite the mountain of rubble that had fallen atop him prior.

Fuck, he's gotten here even sooner than I'd imagined..

Gojo’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back briefly.
“Subaru... you should get out of here.”

“Gojo-sensei, but—”

His instincts screamed, and before Subaru could protest, Gojo shoved him aside just as the air stilled ominously.

An invisible force struck Gojo’s body, tearing away part of his face and body to reveal battered tissue and blood beneath. This was mercy however — the rest was simply eradicated.

One arm and much of his side suffered far worse damage this time around, and was much slower to heal.

Subaru’s eyes widened in horror.
“GOJO-SENSEI!!!”

“GET OUT OF HERE — NOW, YOU IDIOT!”

Teeth clenched, Subaru spun around and sprinted toward the cave’s exit.

“No... no no no—! That can’t happen! It mustn’t... that would be slothful! Yes.. yes! So VEEEEEEERY slothful!!”

Satoru grimaced. He didn’t fully understand the green one’s ability yet, but the strange shifting wind around his own body — and the sight of Rem’s broken body — told him all he needed to know on a surface level.

Gojo raised his battered hand, palm open.
“Blue.”

A swirling vortex pulled in everything nearby — rocks, the bodies of fallen cultists, remnants of the carnage wrought by Rem.

And then — vanished.

Regulus remained stern, silent.

Satoru- he just grinned as Subaru disappeared from sight.
"Heh.."

“This... THIS DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! How do you remain UNAFFECTED by the Unseen Hands... by Satella’s gift?! It’s inconceivable — incomprehensible!”
Petelgeuse screamed, his voice ragged, ripping and clawing at his own flesh as if trying to tear away the maddening truth.

Regulus scowled, a sharp sneer curling his lips.
“Of course — a mind as fractured as his wouldn’t grasp something so simple...”

Gojo exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing with grim determination.

This is my last chance.
He reached deep within himself.. taking a deep breath.

By merging the opposing forces — Lapse Blue and Reversal Red — smashing their conflicting essences together, he would forge something new... a secret technique only a handful in the Gojo clan knew about.

A chilling coldness blossomed at a frightening rate, not from Gojo however- but he ignored it, he had no choice..

Regulus’ gaze flickered from Gojo, then to Petelgeuse, annoyance etched in his features.
“You fool. Feel free to obliterate that fiend beside me, but I will remain untouched. As it's been stated by the words of the gospel...”

He stepped forward, voice low and unwavering.
“You will die.”

Satoru raised his arm, index finger extending, mimicking the form of the red technique — but still subtly different, refined- hand gesture subtly different.

“Imaginary Technique...”

In an instant, the world was swallowed by a deep, swirling purple orb — dark energy coalescing and consuming all it touched. It erased everything, deleting matter as if it had never existed in the first place.

    "Hollow Purple."

The cave shattered, split violently in two. A jagged fissure tore from floor to ceiling, tearing the ceiling apart and allowing light to seep in.

Yet, one thing remained.

Regulus Corneas...

He hovered silently, arm resting calmly behind his back, standing on empty air. Even the ground beneath him was swallowed by the purple void.

Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti...

Gone. Vanished utterly. No trace, no shadow, no whisper of his existence lingered.

But then, a sharp pain stabbed at Gojo’s chest — sudden, burning. His eyes darkened, the weight of realization crashing down.

“...Damn it...”

His torso detached with a sickening sound, sliding off his lower half and collapsing onto the ground, head tilted back toward the shattered sky.

Taking it in, one last time.

And just like that..

Satoru Gojo died.

And with his death, something else arose..

A cold that engulfed the entire world...

And may have been the cause for the end if not for one knight who stands above all in terms of power.

Notes:

I've been grinding, I am incredibly tired after this chapter!
But yeah.. this has been my number one fight I've wanted to make since I started, so I felt like I just had to lock in.

Chapter 12: A Vow to Self.

Gojo stood just outside the door.
From behind the wooden frame, he could hear Subaru’s muffled shouting—rage spilling toward Crusch like an overflowing cup. His eyes remained closed, listening.

The door slammed open.

Subaru stormed out, anger burning across his face—until he stopped short.

“G-Gojo-sensei?”

There was hesitation in his voice. Surprise. Maybe even shame.

Is that... sadness in his eyes? Or anger? Both?

Satoru gave a small nod, hands in his pockets.

“I caught the important parts. Sounds like the Witch’s Cult is attacking Roswaal’s mansion and the village, right?”

Subaru’s expression shifted. His eyes widened.

“T-Then... does this mean—?”

Gojo flashed his usual confident grin.
“Is that even a question, dude? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t have my one and only student’s back?”

Subaru froze. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

That’s what he said last time... and what did I do?
I got him killed. Because of my weakness...

His fists clenched at his sides, brows narrowing into a storm of emotion—determination, guilt, fury.

I’ll get stronger.
No matter what it takes.
I’ll save Emilia. Rem. Ram. Gojo-sensei. Every last villager. No matter how many times I have to die to do it...

Gojo tilted his head slightly, noticing the shift.

“I like that look.”
He smirked.
“You’ve already bounced back, huh? Just a day ago you were a total wreck.”

Subaru met his eyes and gave a crooked smile, raising his fist.

“Heh... what kind of student would I be if I just sat there and gave up, right?”

Gojo chuckled, bumping his fist against Subaru’s with a satisfying thud.

“Seems you actually can learn.”

“H-Hey!” Subaru grumbled.

Rem giggled softly from nearby.

---

A room in a quiet tavern.

Gojo lay flat on his back across a bed, staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head.
I’m still a little suspicious how Subaru got this information... But if it helps, I won’t ask.

Rem sat nearby, concern in her voice.

“Then... Subaru, if what you’re saying is true, we don’t have much time.”

Subaru frowned.

“If..?”
He shook his head, trying not to let the doubt sting.

Rem continued carefully.
“...Shall we return to Roswaal-sama's manor?”

Subaru folded his arms, considering, before slowly shaking his head.

“No. We wouldn’t be able to kill them all...”
He looked over at Gojo.
“..Even with Gojo-sensei here...”

Gojo sat up with a curious smirk.
“Oh? You sure you’re not underestimating me, dearest student?”

Subaru didn’t answer right away. Just stared.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, he thought.

Finally, he muttered.

“There aren’t enough of us.”

Gojo shrugged, leaning back casually.
“Well, if you say so.”

Subaru’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“What’s Roswaal even doing right now?”

Rem answered without hesitation.
“Roswaal-sama is traveling. He was summoned to meet with officials in the domain. He won’t return for several more days.”

Subaru scoffed, folding his arms.

“So that explains why he’s doing nothing about the cult attacking his own estate...”

While Subaru moved on quickly, Gojo didn’t.
His smirk faded. Eyes narrowed.

Roswaal…
Every time his name comes up, something doesn’t add up. If Subaru knows about the Witch’s Cult already, then there’s no way Roswaal doesn’t.
And yet, he’s conveniently gone?

“Tch.”
He clicked his tongue sharply.

“We need reinforcements. The three of us aren’t enough.”

Gojo raised a brow, reclining slightly with casual mockery in his tone.

“So by that, you mean... asking the other royal candidates? You know, one of them’s literally sitting right here?”

Subaru blinked, then lit up.
“Oh—right! Then maybe you could just... send Reinhard to handle them? He could wipe them out in minutes!”

Gojo's expression faltered, his gaze drifting to the corners of the room.

“Weeeell... funny thing. Reinhard mentioned he’d be just a little busy- said he’s out of the capital for now.”
My knight really has the worst damn timing.

He shrugged, then added.
“I could call on the Astrea Estate.. but they probably wouldn't make it in time."

Subaru nodded, gears turning in his head.
“No point then, how about—”

“Skip Priscilla Barielle.” Gojo cut him off, tone blunt.
“From what I’ve seen, she wouldn’t lift a finger unless it benefitted her directly. She’s too self-absorbed—and definitely wouldn’t stoop to helping someone she considers beneath her.”

“S-Someone like me!?” Subaru snapped.

Gojo raised a hand casually.
“Just calling it like she’d say it. No offense.”

He leaned back against the headboard again.
“Your best bet? Anastasia Hoshin. She’s a merchant, and probably has a small army of mercenaries just waiting for an excuse to move.”
He paused, then frowned.
“But... even then I dunnooo... Especially after that incident between you and her knight.”

---

Within the Capital...

Gojo licked his lips, knife and fork in hand as he casually dug into the food before him.

Damn, this stuff’s amazing...

He raised his eyes mid-bite—just in time to see the door swing open with a jingle of bells. Subaru stormed in, irritation written all over his face, Rem trailing behind him.

Subaru threw himself into the seat across from Gojo without a word.

Gojo chewed, swallowed, then smirked.
“Sooo... I’m guessing she said no, huh?”

Subaru scowled, slamming his hands on the table.
“No—worse. I tell them the literal Witch’s Cult is mobilizing, and they act like I’m warning them about a summer drizzle!”

Gojo calmly raised his drink, took a sip, and only replied after setting it down again.

“To be fair... they’re thinking tactically.”

He gestured with a single finger.
“They have no real stake in protecting the people at the mansion. Sure, they’d prefer no one dies, but from a political perspective? Emilia dying knocks out a royal rival. It’s strategic apathy.”

He leaned back with a shrug.
“The only reason I thought they'd help is to publicly boast that they stopped the Witch Cult.”

Subaru let out a sigh, slouching in the seat. His eyes shifted to Rem.
“Rem.. How’d it go with the knights?”

Rem hesitated, her posture stiffening slightly.
“As you asked, I reported the Witch’s Cult’s movements to the knight station under Roswaal-sama’s name. But... they said they’ve already received several anonymous tips. None of them verifiable.”

Gojo muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
“That’s convenient...”

Subaru clenched his jaw, mind racing.

No army. No allies. No one willing to lift a finger... Then it’ll happen again. T he village. The mansion. Rem... murdered. And that man in white—

His eyes snapped toward Gojo—
The memory surged back like a lightning strike.
The way he'd shoved Subaru aside without hesitation…
The explosion of blood, the sickening sound of tearing flesh—
and then—
Half of him. Gone.
The entire left side of his body, eviscerated, as if reality itself had turned on him.

He took a sharp breath, voice steady despite the turmoil in his mind.
“Then we go back. Before they attack. Get Emilia and Ram out... somewhere. I don’t care where. Anywhere but there! If we leave now, we can reach the mansion by morning.”

---

Later...

The sun bled across the horizon, casting the sprawling plains in brilliant orange. The dragon carriage bumped along the dirt path, wind rustling the grass around them.

Subaru sat up front beside Rem, who held the reins with practiced grace.

Gojo lay sprawled in the back, hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the dusky sky.

Then—

“…Hmm?”

He sat up, eyes narrowing.
Something stirred in the distance—multiple presences. Unfamiliar. Watching.

His gaze locked forward.

Standing by the roadside was a man—green cloak, gray hair tucked under a green hat, smiling like they’d just run into an old friend.

Gojo tilted his head slightly.
“A friend of yours...?”

Subaru leaned forward, squinting.
“... Well.."

---

The gentle chorus of nocturnal wildlife filled the quiet of the forest, a soft contrast to the crackle of the fire at the center of the small camp. Lantern light flickered against the canvas of tents, casting long shadows across the clearing.

This temporary refuge belonged to a small merchant caravan—led by a man named Otto Suwen.

Around the campfire sat Satoru Gojo, Subaru, Rem, and Otto himself, sharing warmth in the cool night air.

Otto broke the silence, voice tinged with unease.
“Are you sure it’s wise to travel so late...? The roads can be... unpredictable after dark.”

His eyes flicked toward the forest's edge, the fire’s light not quite strong enough to reach its depths.
“You’re welcome to stay the night. We have extra tents and food to spare.”

Satoru remained still, seated with arms crossed, eyes closed as though in meditation. After a moment, he exhaled calmly and spoke.

“We might as well..”
His eyes opened, faintly glowing with their usual cool confidence.
“Even I’d prefer to sleep at night, and though I trust my senses... I don’t make a habit of pushing my luck unnecessarily.”

Subaru gave a small nod, his expression still tight with thought, but easing slightly at the offer.
Rem glanced toward him for reassurance before relaxing as well.

The fire crackled once more, casting warm light across their faces.

A moment of stillness.

The firelight danced across their faces, flickering gently as the group sat in relative silence.

Then, with a stretch and a soft yawn, Gojo stood up, his voice light but casual.
“Well, before this little talk turns into something serious, I’m gonna go chill for a bit.”

Subaru glanced up from the flames, brow raised.
“Eh? Chill where?”

Gojo just offered a lazy wave over his shoulder, already turning away.
“Somewhere quieter. You’ll manage without me, right?”

He wandered off without another word, footsteps slow and relaxed, until he reached the outer edge of the camp. There, just beyond the reach of the firelight, he stood—hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the treeline bathed in moonlight.

A breeze moved through the leaves. Stillness followed.

“Hm...?” he murmured.

There were footsteps behind him—soft, deliberate.

He didn’t turn around, but he didn’t need to. He felt the presence before he heard her voice.

Rem, quiet as ever, stepped up beside him. She said nothing at first, simply stood beside him, looking toward the same distant woods.

The silence between them was not awkward—but unfamiliar.

After a few long seconds, Gojo tilted his head slightly, speaking without looking her way.

“Didn’t expect company.”

Rem’s voice was soft, yet certain.
“You didn’t seem like the type to wander off alone without a reason.”

A short laugh escaped him, more breath than voice.
“I just like the night, in all honesty. Back where I came from, me and... my best friend would sometimes stay up to gaze at the stars. As if to just... escape reality?”
He trailed off, letting the quiet stretch a little.
“Funny, huh? Even when you’ve got power—real, terrifying power—it’s still easier to lose yourself in the sky than deal with everything down here.”

Rem was quiet for a moment, then said,
“I used to do the same. With my sister. We’d sometimes sneak out and sit on the roof of the mansion and just... watch the stars until we fell asleep. We didn’t say much. It was just... peaceful.”

Gojo’s smile turned a touch more genuine, less forced.
“Guess it doesn’t matter which world you’re from. Peace is peace.”

She glanced at him then, really looked—just for a second.
“Was your friend important to you?”

He hesitated, then nodded once.
“Yeah. More than I realized until it was too late.”

Rem didn’t press. Instead, she spoke gently.
“You seem like someone who’s been through a lot. But... still keeps walking forward.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, a faint, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“That’s one way to put it. Or maybe I’m just too stubborn to sit still.”
He paused, then looked at her for the first time during the conversation.
“What about you? Why follow me out here?”

She blinked, then returned her gaze to the horizon.

“I don’t know,” She admitted.
“Maybe... I just didn’t want to be alone in my thoughts. Maybe I sensed you didn’t either.”

That caught him off guard. His smirk faded, replaced by something softer. Quieter.

They stood in silence again—but this time, it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was comfortable. Muted understanding.

Then Gojo spoke, voice quieter than before.
“You know, Subaru’s lucky. He’s got people like you watching his back.”

Rem’s hands folded neatly in front of her, her expression unreadable, though her voice held warmth.
“He’s precious to me. No matter how many times he falls... I want to be someone he can stand back up for.”

Gojo nodded slowly.
“Sounds like love.”

Rem didn’t reply—but her silence said enough.

A breeze stirred the trees again.

“Well,” Gojo said, stretching, his tone rising back to its usual casual pitch.
“That’s enough brooding under the stars for me. I think I’ve hit my nightly limit.”

Rem turned to follow, her steps light.
“You hide it well, but... you’re kind, Gojo-san.”

He gave her a sideways glance, one brow raised.
“Tch. Don’t ruin my reputation!”

She smiled. Just a little.

---

The caravan pressed forward through the night, a dozen carriages in tow, wheels crunching over the worn dirt road. Lanterns swayed from the wagons, casting pale light across the passing trees and brush.

.. I guess we aren't waiting until morning then.

“It isn’t ideal,” Rem said softly, “But if we keep pushing through the night, we should enter the Mathers Domain by dawn.”

She glanced toward Subaru, who nodded at her words.

“Subaru, you probably haven’t noticed, but there’s a map in your bag. Could you take it out and show it to me?”-

“Huh? A map?” Subaru blinked and leaned down, rummaging through the bag until he pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of paper. He tried to flatten it out on his lap but squinted in the dark. “Erk… it’s too dark to read.”

“Oh, right!”
He flicked open his old flip phone. A dim light shone from the tiny torch at the top.

“You still have that thing?” Gojo’s voice suddenly rang out from the side, playful and too close. “Man, I forgot to bring mine when I crossed into this weird fantasy world.. or I lost it.”

“GYAAH—!” Subaru yelped, the phone beam illuminating Gojo’s grinning face like a ghost story's villain. “What the hell!? Where did you come from!?”

“Climbed out of the back. Ran up here. Now I’m hanging on for dear life,” Gojo said, legs dangling precariously off the edge of the moving wagon. He smirked. “Good cardio.”

Subaru muttered a laugh. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack someday…”

Rem, meanwhile, tilted her head curiously, her blue eyes narrowing at the phone.
“What… is that, Subaru?”

“This? Just a little piece of tech from back home. It’s called a cellphone. Not much use here except for the light—and it’s almost dead…”
Still, he held it up over the map, casting just enough glow for Rem to examine their route.

“Just a bit more this way,” she said, tracing a line with her finger. “We should be able to see Flugel’s Tree soon. Once we pass that, we’ll be within the Mathers domain.”

Gojo’s brow furrowed, gaze turning toward the horizon.
“You don’t mean that absurdly massive tree stretching into the clouds, do you?”

Subaru let out a tired sigh. “..What do you think?”

Gojo gave a low whistle, but his eyes suddenly narrowed.
“… Something is..”

Subaru swiftly spoke. “Wait… Where’s the merchant who was driving beside us?”

Otto, riding a few carriages back, overheard. “Natsuki? What are you talking about? We’re the only ones this far forward. No one else was riding next to you..”

Gojo pulled himself along, landing in the back of the carriage, eyes narrowed.
“Should probably look up, you guys-"

Then, without warning, Subaru’s light caught something above them.

An eye.

A colossal, golden eye, peering down from the sky with silent malice.

Subaru’s breath hitched. Gojo’s expression flattened.
“…Shit.”

The sky screamed.

Not a voice—a vibration, deep and raw, shaking the air itself. Mist exploded outward from the eye’s direction, a blast of pressure and fog that hit like a tidal wave.

Subaru was thrown from his feet, tumbling backward across the wooden carriage bed.

“What the hell—!?”

Rem launched into motion without hesitation, catching Subaru mid-air and yanking him down with her. The force of the wind ripped through their surroundings, uplifting chunks of the ground and rattling wagons before they collapsed into the suffocating white mist.

Gojo’s hair whipped wildly in the gale. His hands were already rising, fingers poised in preparation.

Gojo stared up into the dense white fog, hair whipping violently in the wind, his cerulean eyes sharpening with focused clarity.

A grin slowly tugged at the edge of his lips.

Massive, unmistakable…
A floating, nightmarish behemoth. A whale—no, the White Whale, its massive form veiled behind clouds of churning mist, like a ghost summoned from the sky itself.

The fog poured from its body in endless plumes, blanketing the ground and swallowing the stars above.

“Ahh… that’s right.” Gojo’s grin widened as his fingers flexed outward. “It’s my prey~”

He tilted his head.
“Hides pretty damn well, though…”

“D-Do you see the White Whale!?” Subaru’s voice cracked through the roaring wind, his hands dug deep into the wood of the wagon, trying not to get flung into the air.

Rem, struggling to keep her footing, eyes wild and darting, shook her head.
“I can’t see anything in this fog… It’s too dark!”

“Damn it! And we just found transportation too!”

Then, it roared again.
A scream that wasn’t sound, but pressure.

It hit them like a tremor in the soul, deep and primal—forceful enough to rattle bones and shake the carriages’ wheels off the earth for a moment.

Gojo’s expression dropped.
“These things really aren’t helping at the dead of night…”
He reached up, calmly removing his sunglasses, letting them slide down to hang from his collar.

And then he saw it.

The jaws.
Massive, gaping, lined with teeth the size of trees—parting through the mist just in time for Subaru’s body to be ripped loose by the sheer gale, flung directly toward the monster’s open maw.

“SUBARU!!”
Rem screamed, her voice cracking into desperation.

SWOOSH-

Gojo raised a single hand.

“Blue.”

A translucent sphere of force erupted from his palm—dense and glowing azure, like a fragment of his very gaze. It shimmered in the air and then snapped, pulling Subaru backward with impossible force in an instant-

Subaru’s eyes widened—his body flung back like a ragdoll, but then caught midair. Gojo’s hand gripped his tightly when he was pulled within arms reach and yanked him back to safety.

“Yo,” Gojo said coolly, with a grin.

Before Subaru could even exhale in relief—

“REM!!”
He screamed again—this time in awe, fear, and disbelief.

She had already jumped. Purposefully, however.

A streak of blue and white launched from the carriage, her spiked flail spinning midair before latching into the side of the whale’s massive head with a sickening THUNK-! 

The creature screeched—less in pain, more in irritation—as the chain tightened and Rem yanked herself forward, the gleam of her horn flickering at her forehead.

Her weapon tore free with a trail of dark blood.

Then she twisted in the air, flipping backward off the whale’s body and landing back onto the carriage’s roof—her boots skidding with friction, weapon ready again.

Gojo was still, processing everything in milliseconds.

Calculating. Every outcome. Every angle. Every consequence.

He looked at Subaru, gaze deadly serious.

“You should probably hold on.”

“Huh—WAI—”

WHUMP.
Gojo threw him. With casual brutality, he flung Subaru backward across the length of the wagon, where he hit the other side with a grunt—but safe.

And then—

BOOM!

Gojo launched off the ground.

His figure blurred, purple coat whipping, streaking through the air like a comet with a grin carved into his face and death in his eyes.

“GOJO-SENSEI!!” Subaru shouted from the floor of the carriage.

In the distance, the White Whale roared again—its massive form peeling from the fog like a continent drifting through clouds.

Satoru hummed to himself mid-air.

“…When they said ‘White Whale,’ I thought it was just a nickname…”

He smirked.

“…Guess I forgot this was a fantasy world.”

Notes:

No slowing down just yet.

Chapter 13: The Worst Outcome.

He didn’t spare a glance behind him. Subaru, Otto—their departure was swallowed by the mist. Pointless to watch. There was only one direction now.

Forward.

Midair, hurtling straight toward the gaping jaws of the White Whale, Gojo moved.

SWISH—

His palm thrust downward.

A pulse of Blue exploded beneath him—an invisible force flinging his body upward, past the jagged teeth snapping shut just below.

"Let’s see how tanky you are first..."
He twisted in the air, body coiling, fist pulled back—tension building like a drawn bow.

"SHALL WE?!"

The punch struck true.

An earth-shattering impact.
Raw, untamed power erupted outward, crashing into the side of the creature’s massive head.

The ground fractured beneath them.
The force of the blow carved deep into the plains—fog torn away, dust blasted into the air in a wide ring of devastation.

The White Whale's enormous form was thrown sideways, the sheer pressure grinding its lower half against the earth—tearing up soil, splintering stone, plowing a path of destruction in its wake.

Gojo landed in the center of the chaos, calmly flexing his hand—opening and closing his palm as if checking the condition of a newly worn glove.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Not bad."
His gaze narrowed, eyes glowing faintly.

"For a whale, that is."

Dust still hung in the air, curling around his figure like smoke off a smoldering wreck.

The whale groaned- roared.

That low, guttural sound—more like a fork against a chalkboard than a living creature—rumbled through the battlefield.

Gojo cracked his neck, then his knuckles. His white hair shifted slightly in the breeze kicked up by the whale’s thrashing.

He didn’t move immediately. He didn’t need to. His eyes, a sharp gleam of crystalline blue, studied the beast’s reaction.

Still breathing huh, good.

The thing was as tough as it looked atleast.

The ground trembled as the White Whale adjusted itself, its eye twitching, mouth opening again with a guttural screech—higher-pitched this time, furious. A storm of wind blasted outward from its lungs, followed by another erupting fogburst so thick it swallowed the world in an instant.

Gojo’s smile faltered, just for a second.

"...Ah. Right. Can’t see again."

His eyes narrowed, a faint smirk still on his lips.

“Just means I gotta react quicker, then.”

Then — chaos.

The ground behind the White Whale erupted, a violent tremor shaking the earth as a storm of rock and debris was hurled skyward. Thousands of shards, jagged like shrapnel, tore through the air. Most were the size of pebbles, some large enough to crush carriages. One was easily twice his height, blotting out the moonlight as it hurtled down.

It was like the world itself had declared war on him.

Gojo didn’t flinch.

His foot twisted against the ground, shoulders relaxed, lips pursing faintly. Then—

CRACK—!

His fist met the descending boulder, and the rock exploded, reduced to fine debris in a thunderous burst. The shockwave flattened nearby gravel, scattering the smaller stones away from him.

Another rock came. Then another.

But Gojo moved.
Stepping. Twisting. Leaning. Leading.

Every movement precise, every counterstrike timed to perfection.
Each massive chunk of stone that dared near him was obliterated mid-air by the raw force of his strikes, arms moving in sharp, flowing, repetitive jabs and swings.

And all the while—he grinned.

Why?
He could’ve activated Infinity since the start. Let the debris stop harmlessly short, like water to a wall.

But this?

This was fun.

He’d never been challenged like this before—not by a monster, not by nature itself. So he welcomed the chaos with open arms, fists raised.

The White Whale howled—an enraged, thunderous wail amidst the fog.

Then, without warning, it dived.

Its massive jaw carved a trench in the plain as it came down—mouth agape, trying to catch him between its upper and lower jaws like a bear trap dropped from the sky.

But Gojo was already gone.

A blur of white and blue, his legs bent—then repelled—blasting him sideways just before the jaws slammed shut. The quake that followed shook the earth, flinging broken terrain in all directions.

Again, it turned—massive, blind with rage.

Its jaws snapped again, and again, always a step behind. Wherever Gojo landed, the beast was already lunging—biting at air, rock and dirt.

And then—silence.

The fog, thick and rolling across the plain, seemed to pause. Gojo skidded to a halt, boots dragging furrows in the dirt. His breath came easy. Controlled.

Eyes glowing beneath tousled white hair, he tilted his head to the side, neck cracking faintly.

His Six Eyes pulsed—picking out even the most minute of motion.

“There.”

His hand raised, fingers curling as his palm twisted toward the empty space ahead.-

The cursed technique rippled through the air. The pressure warped, drawing in the fog like a whirlpool collapsing on itself—vacuuming dust and haze toward a singular point.

Gojo’s brow arched.

“…What?”

The pull connected—but with nothing. Empty space.
No resistance.
No impact.

Just the soft drag of mist and wind into the spiral.

His smirk faded slightly.

He’d hit nothing.

A chill ran up his spine—not fear, but realization, amusement.

The whale... it wasn’t where he thought it was.

Gojo’s fist hung suspended mid-air, centimeters from nothing. No recoil. No resistance. Just... emptiness.

His eyes narrowed, Six Eyes flickering with faint pulses of surprise as they adjusted again.

“Nothing?” he muttered. “Tch. Then that’s a fakeout.”

He turned on his heel, body low, just as the ground beneath him erupted.

BOOM—!

A geyser of force tore upward—not from the whale's jaws, but from its tail, sweeping underground like a missile and exploding outward. Gojo was blasted skyward, arms thrown up instinctively in a loosely formed guard, the wind howling past him as he twisted through the air.

Below, the whale followed, massive body gliding like a ghost through the lingering fog, its momentum unnatural for its size—almost elegant in its horror.

And it was fairly fast, especially for a colossal flying whale.

Mid-air, Gojo realigned himself, the sky spinning behind his eyes. He tensed.

That same tail—a jagged blur in the sky—came screaming across. It cleaved through the air like a falling blade and slammed into Gojo with devastating force.

BOOM—!

A shockwave rippled outward, warping the sky and tearing a trench through the earth. The sound cracked like thunder—so loud it felt physical. Gojo's body was launched, streaking like a comet across the sky, flung straight toward the distant silhouette of Flugel’s Tree.

“...Smarter than you look, huh?” he muttered, more amused than annoyed.

His body tumbled through the air, but it was mostly formality—his cursed energy flared, coating his frame like a second skin. The blow had impact, sure, but not bite just yet.

SWOOSH—

Gojo twisted mid-flight, flipping through the air. Then—
THUD.

Both feet hit the ground, hard, kicking up stone and dust, twin grooves scorched into the terrain from his landing.

The fog rushed back in, swallowing the field once more like a creeping tide.

He exhaled softly, his eyes narrowing.

I told the old man—Wilhelm, I think?—that I’d let him have his shot at the whale... but it’s clear this thing’s got other plans. Doesn’t seem too interested in letting me go.

A flicker of cursed energy pulsed across his arms, his fingers twitching once.

I mean, I could just teleport. But…

His lips tugged into a grin.

“Guess I’ll keep slapping this oversized fish until I get bored.”

Then—

SKREEEEEEEE—!!!

The air warped. Below him, the ground hissed and split as a violent geyser of mist erupted from beneath his feet, lancing upward like a cannon.

Gojo blurred sideways just in time, coat whipping in the wind as the blast tore skyward—hot, and dense with force. The blast lingered, swirling like a vortex of fog and power.

His boots hit ground again, skidding back lightly. His smile faded—not out of fear, but focus.

It's adapting... That hit wasn’t just lucky—it was reading me. It knows I’m stronger. So now it’s fighting smart. Tactically.

His eyes scanned the haze—still, unreadable.

This mist... it’s clever. It screws with my sight, dulls sound, even makes Six Eyes work harder.

For the first time, his fingers flexed with restrained tension.

His gaze darkened, eyes narrowing with sharp intent.
“I’m not a fan of being the hunted unfortunately.”

CRASH—!

From the mist, the White Whale screamed again, but this time it was different—wilder, deeper, almost… mental. A low vibration pulsed through the air, rattling Gojo’s senses.

A faint pain prickled at his temple.
What the hell was that...? Some kind of mental attack?
It wasn’t strong—more like a nagging headache than anything debilitating.

Gojo scowled, brushing it off.

He exhaled and raised a hand overhead, palm glowing with cerulean light. The orb began to form—this time, bigger, brighter, crackling with untamed power.

“Maximum output: Blue!”

The sphere pulsed violently, sucking in everything nearby like a black hole—fog, dirt, even chunks of earth torn loose by the whale’s rampage.

Until… nothing remained.

Then, a surge of mana unlike anything Gojo had felt in this world exploded around him.

His eyes snapped to the source.

Right in front of the whale’s massive, gaping maw, the fog congealed into a thick swirling mass, wrapping around the orb as it grew, pulsating with raw energy.

“Well, that’s not—”

FWOOOOM!

The orb was unleashed in a devastating beam, carving a colossal crater through the plain as it tore toward Gojo’s position.

Dark smoke billowed up in chaos, engulfing the area where he stood moments ago.

Then—silence.

The whale floated, proud and undisturbed, the pupil of its massive black eye shrinking in rage as it fixed on the shadow blocking the sun.

Gojo grinned, hair tousled by the wind, arms relaxed as he hovered about a hundred meters above the ground.
“Not bad, dude. That one might’ve actually done some damage if it landed.”

Suddenly, he vanished.

SWISH—

Now, Gojo stood atop the whale’s slick back.

Infinity flickered back on—space shifting around his body in an instant.
Yeah, I’m not about to get covered in blood today.

He sprinted along the beast’s spine, hand extended like a blade.

With a brutal thrust, his palm drove deep into the whale’s back—blood erupted in wild sprays, the force of his strike leaving a deep crimson gash etched along the creature’s flesh.

Before the beast could react, Gojo leapt off.

Falling through the air, he folded his arms, a sly smile curling on his lips.
“I’d say that should be enough. Gonna be one hell of a scar though.”

Clapping his palms together, fingers intertwining—

SWOOSH—

Satoru Gojo was gone.

The whale roared—angrier than ever before, its fury shaking the very ground beneath the endless plain.

---

Hours later...

Satoru lay flat on his back in the grass, eyes drifting upward toward the endless, cloudless sky.

That whale... wasn't too shabby. Stronger than any Special Grade I’ve faced on Earth atleast.
He let the thought settle.
How many beings like that even roam this world?

He sat up, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
“An exciting thought. But anyway, time to check on Subaru. Guy might be thinking I’m dead or something.”

He clasped his hands together thoughtfully.
“Plus... the Witch Cult’s going to strike soon. He should be back at Roswaal’s mansion.”

The world twisted and shifted—

---

Roswaal Estate...

Satoru appeared in a dim hallway and exhaled softly. His brows furrowed.
Subaru’s not here. Well then...

He scratched the back of his neck, gaze sliding toward the nearest door.

Ah.

With a small, mischievous smirk, he grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

“Oh, little librarian... come out, come out... where... ever-”

His expression shifted as he sensed the thick presence of cursed energy, Subaru's specifically, lingering in the air. There, perched on her stool, was Beatrice—eyes gleaming with that trademark mixture of mischief and sharp intellect.

“Tch, it is you..” she said, voice dripping with mock surprise. “I was wondering what unfamiliar soul had crawled into the mansion this time..”

Satoru chuckled, relaxed.
“Yep, ’tis I—your favorite white-haired man.”

He folded his arms, tone cooling slightly.
“But more importantly... where’s Subaru?”

Beatrice’s expression darkened; her delicate brow knitted together.
“That man... I sent him away. He begged me to end his life, you see. Perhaps the weight of having taken his dearest Emilia’s life fractured what little sanity remained.”

The air thickened.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.
“He... what? He killed...”

His mind raced, searching for answers—finding none. Instead, a fierce, raw bloodlust began to simmer beneath his calm.

Beatrice’s eyes flickered—just a hint of surprise.
“Take me to wherever you sent him. Now.”
His voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument.

Beatrice’s lips curved into a wry smile, her brows arching.
“Very well, then... But mark my words—this little journey won’t save you all. Beatrice’s Bubby will soon bring about the world’s end, I suppose.”

With a delicate flick of her wrist, a shimmering portal tore open—an otherworldly rift in space hovering before him.

Satoru relaxed, the faintest smirk returning. Without hesitation, he stepped through.

---

Somewhere unknown...

Subaru watched, paralyzed by all-encompassing fear as snow fell relentlessly. The entire area—no, the world—turned white, blanketed in ice and frost.

Petelgeuse lay crushed beneath a colossal paw, reduced to a red, shattered smear on the snowy surface.

Emilia's body, sprawled out dead, covered in blankets of snow and ice.

But why.. exactly?

The Beast of the End.

A low, rumbling hum emanated from the giant creature. Once the adorable, tiny cat-like spirit, had transformed into a monstrous titan—an entire world unto itself, promising only annihilation.

It leaned down, razor-sharp teeth barely a meter from Subaru’s slowly freezing form, exhaling a breath colder than death.

“Now, Subaru... shall we have a little talk?”

“You have committed three sins.”

“Firstly. You broke your promise to Lia. It seems you don’t understand just how serious a promise is... to a spirit arts user.”

“Secondly. You ignored Lia’s wishes and came back here—to the mansion...”

“And third...” The voice darkened, thick with finality.

“You let Lia die. Therefore... in accordance with my contract, I will destroy this world.”

Before Subaru could form a reply, a streak of white tore across the sky at impossible speed, crashing into the side of the Beast’s jaw with a thunderous BOOM-!!

The colossal beast staggered, ice-shattered terrain cracking and erupting violently around them—rock and frost sent flying in a wild haze of destruction.

Subaru was flung back as well—but Gojo, thinking ahead, grabbed Subaru’s forearm. His Infinity activated, nullifying the cold’s bite as they landed safely to the side.

“S-Satoru Sens—”

“..Gojo.” Puck’s voice was strained, the beast himself barely fazed.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “He’s hardly affected, huh? Didn’t exactly hold back either...”

So this was Puck’s true form. A monster of unimaginable scale.. definitely powerful.

Then, footsteps—sharp and deliberate—cut through the tense silence.

“Tch... Oi, cat. Don’t you think this cold is completely and utterly foolish? Doing all this just over some half-elf with a pretty face?”

Regulus Corneas appeared once more, voice dripping with biting sarcasm as he strode forward, clearly unimpressed by the apocalyptic scene.

Gojo’s eyes widened in shock, narrowing sharply. “.. Who..?”

He tried to read the newcomer, but found nothing—no aura, no.. nothing.. just... empty space.

Impossible.

Subaru’s fear twisted into something darker. Here stood a being potentially even more terrifying than the colossal beast before him..

The man who killed Gojo-sensei in the last loop...

Regulus smirked, voice dripping with disdain.
“Unfortunately, if this ice keeps spreading, then—despite my utter hatred for fighting—I’ll have to sully my hands to save the lives of my wives..”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of resolve sparking amidst the fear.

Regulus stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating, voice dripping with scorn.
“Honestly, I never thought I’d stoop to dealing with a spirit beast’s tantrum. But when it comes to them... I have no choice."

Was it truly love...? Or something else entirely? Subaru didn’t know — nor did he have time to ponder such things.

His eyes burned wide with desperation as they locked onto Satoru.
“Gojo-sensei... just let me go. There’s no way you can fight with me in your grasp...”

Gojo’s scowl deepened, voice cold and resolute.
“If I let you go, you’ll die...”

Regulus’s pale brow arched, a cruel smile playing at his lips.
“The boy who clings to the half-elf—the recipient of the Witch’s love—how utterly quaint. Yet such affection is not yours to claim. It rightfully belongs to me, the one who commands it with rightful authority and impeccable logic and intellect."

Tap.

Then, the tip of Regulus’s immaculate white boot tapped the fractured ground like a metronome, echoing ominously across the frozen wasteland.

Gojo’s instincts screamed, but his body betrayed him—frozen in hesitation. With a fluid, ruthless motion, Regulus’s strike sliced through the air—

SWOOSH-

Gojo’s right arm—the one holding Subaru—was violently torn free, the impact gouging the earth and shredding flesh in a spray of crimson.

Subaru was hurled violently, spinning through the freezing air.

A guttural growl ripped through the tumultuous winds.

“So be it then…”
The Beast of the End—Puck in his monstrous, titanic form—roared with immense fury, the very source of the frozen chaos that sullied the world. Massive paws crushed the ground, ice cracking and splintering beneath each thunderous step, shards of frozen terrain launching into the stormy sky.

Regulus’s smirk curled darkly, the calm on his face was incredibly unsettling considering the situation.

Gojo growled, pain lancing through his torn shoulder as he gripped the wound. His eyes flicked toward Subaru — a storm of fierce protectiveness, anguish, and cold determination.

The frost spread quickly, Subaru's body beginning to harden in defiance with no means of protection from the Infinity.

“Damn you!!”
A furious roar tore from his throat as he thrust his left hand skyward—Blue flared, surging with raw, furious, cursed energy. The sphere pulsated violently, a blue tempest screaming as it expanded, threatening to tear the very fabric of the frozen battlefield.

Regulus let out a cold, contemptuous scoff, lifting his hand with calmed slowness.
“Your feeble displays of force are meaningless to one such as I. Foolish creatures, the both of you—one blinded by a pretty face, the other by pathetic loyalty. Why strain yourselves, why bother? This futility amuses me not in the slightest... And you even dare to make me put in effort to stop this meaningless chaos? You should be ashamed, spirit.. and the one doomed to die by the words of the Gospel.”

Above the chaos, Puck summoned a colossal shard of ice, a jagged monolith shimmering with promise of destruction, suspended in the air like an unholy blade.

Subaru watched from the shattered remnants of the battlefield, powerless.. utterly powerless, his previous promise forgotten.

The clash.

The cataclysm.

Then—

CRACK.

The ice shattered, cruel and merciless.

His body split apart.

And Natsuki Subaru died once more.

Chapter 14: It's just a big fish.

Subaru sat upright in his chair, fingers steepled, his back slightly leaned forward. There was confidence in his eyes—a fire that refused to flicker—locked directly on Crusch, who stood across from him, flanked by Wilhelm and Felix.

"I propose an alliance between the Emilia and Crusch camps. Equal terms."

Crusch’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"...What?"

"I don’t expect anything for free," Subaru continued coolly, "so I’ve brought both information—and the location of the White Whale."

At that, Wilhelm’s entire demeanor shifted. His jaw tensed, his gloved fists clenched at his sides until the leather creaked. The air thickened around him, bloodlust rising like heat mirage from his shoulders.

"...The White Whale," he muttered.

"Scary bloodlust, old man," came a smooth, almost playful voice from behind Subaru.

Satoru Gojo. His hands rested casually on the back of Subaru’s chair, sunglasses gleaming, smile ever-present—as if he’d simply appeared from thin air.

“GAHK—! Can you not keep doing that?!” Subaru jolted.

Gojo tilted his head. “Doing what?” He smirked. “You’re imagining things.”

Crusch cleared her throat, redirecting the conversation. “Your point being? We’ve already been planning the White Whale’s subjugation. With Gojo.”

Subaru’s head snapped toward his so-called teacher. “Eh?! You what—?!”

Gojo waved a hand. “Hey, before you stormed in with your master plan, alright? Don’t go giving me that look—I’m not evil enough to betray my dear student.”

His tone lost its levity for just a breath as he turned to Crusch, voice dipping into something steadier.

“Yeah. We've been preparing to kill that thing for a while now. Subaru, remember what I said back at the Royal Selection?”

“You were gonna take it down solo, weren’t you?”

Gojo stuck out his tongue playfully. “Well, yeah, until some stuff happened with Crusch’s camp. And hey—I’m not such a clout-chaser that I’d ignore a man’s burning desire for revenge just to play solo hero.”

“You sure about that?” Subaru muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Gojo chuckled, then glanced back at Crusch. “We’ve got prep—but no confirmed time or place. Not even I can sniff out when or where that thing’s showing up.”

Subaru raised a hand. “And that’s why this alliance is crucial. Until the whale breathes its last breath.”

He paused, then looked Crusch in the eye. “I know I’m asking for a lot. But I don’t make claims I can’t back up.”

Crusch didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze shifted from Subaru to Gojo, then back. Calm, analytical, sharp.

“My concern isn’t dishonesty,” she said coolly. “It’s whether the information you claim to have... is accurate.”

Subaru smiled thinly. He reached into his tracksuit pocket and placed a flip-phone down onto the table. Crusch looked at it, puzzled.

“It’s a metia,” he explained. “And it’ll tell me the exact time and place the whale will appear.”

Gojo’s brow twitched, just slightly.

So he’s hiding how he got that info. Doesn’t count as lying, so Crusch’s Divine Protection won’t react either.. 
I guess I won't ask why he's hiding it...

Crusch picked it up cautiously, frowning. “...I find that difficult to believe. But you’re not lying...”

Subaru tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Sure you want to trust me so easily?”

Gojo leaned down, peeking over Subaru’s shoulder, grinning. “That’d be thanks to a handy little Divine Protection. Crusch here’s a human lie detector.”

Crusch’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Gojo. “And how exactly do you know that? I never told you.”

He winked, sliding his finger down the edge of his glasses.

“Same reason I called you and Reinhard the best lie detectors in the room back at the Selection.” His voice dipped to a playful whisper. “I’ve got reaaaaally good eyes~”

Subaru let out a loud sigh, waving him off. “Alright, alright! Enough with the flexing!”

He stood, extending a hand toward Crusch.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

Crusch didn’t move right away. Instead, she smiled—genuinely, if subtly.

“I’m impressed you deduced we were preparing to hunt the whale already.”

“That’s... kinda freaky too!” Gojo muttered.

Crusch rose, extending her own hand to meet Subaru’s. Her grip was firm, resolute.

“I have questions—many. But... I choose to trust in those eyes of yours. They speak of wordless resolve.”

Gojo clapped his hands with childlike enthusiasm.

“Woo! Consider this alliance... allianced!”

Subaru deadpanned. “Dude.”

---

Gojo lay sprawled across the rooftop of Crusch's mansion, the wind tousling strands of his silver-white hair. Fingers interlocked behind his head, he stared lazily up at the sky—sunlight filtering through faint clouds, warm and indifferent.

The air was quiet. Peaceful. Deceptively so.

The White Whale...

His sunglasses glinted under the sun, but his eyes, hidden beneath them, were distant. Focused. Calculating.

Outside of that red-haired anomaly—Reinhard—who frankly bends the very concept of power just by existing... I’ve got nothing to go off.

He let out a slow breath, more thoughtful than tired.

It’s ancient. It’s killed hundreds. Thousands.. over hundreds of years. An embodiment of calamity, in a way.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against the back of his head.

I suppose it’ll be strong... but how strong? Will it make me break a sweat? Will it make me think twice?

A breeze drifted over the roof. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to feel something—an omen, a sign.

Will it be fun...?

He frowned, just faintly.

Should I even consider it fun after all it's done?

That thought lingered. Gojo wasn’t oblivious. He’d seen the look in Wilhelm’s eyes. The way the man didn’t blink when the Whale was mentioned. The way the air thickened with his thirst for vengeance.

Probably not. For them, this isn’t fun. It’s a war they’ve waited years for.

He opened his eyes again. Sky still blue. Still peaceful.

But in his chest, a small knot began to twist.

“I’ll fight it,” he murmured aloud to the sky. “Because it deserves to die.”

His voice was quiet, but his grin returned, soft and lopsided.

“But if it tries anything fancy... I will enjoy crushing it.”

The rooftop creaked faintly.

Gojo didn’t move. His eyes remained closed, breaths steady. But he knew. Someone was coming.

“Yo,” he said lazily. “You walk like a guy who’s thinking way too hard. Gonna get wrinkles at this rate, y’know.”

Subaru halted behind him, arms crossed.

“Kind of hard not to think too hard when we’re heading into a death match with a flying apocalypse.”

Gojo cracked open one eye and tilted his head just enough to glimpse Subaru.

Subaru sighed and sat down beside him, knees to his chest. For a moment, neither spoke. The sky stretched above them like an ocean untouched by war.

Then Subaru broke the silence.

“Do you ever get scared?”

Gojo didn't answer immediately. He stared up again at the sun, letting the question hang.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Not really.. in all honesty.”

Subaru blinked. “Seriously?”

Gojo chuckled dryly.

“Back on Earth, even in childhood, I was utterly untouchable.. I'd never bled, never been bruised.. not until a certain someone showed up. But even then, even he, my best friend couldn't touch me unless I let him.”

"I was a prodigy a head and shoulders amongst the rest.. though it also meant I never actually had to put in effort for anything."

"Sounds like a hard life..." Subaru said sarcastically.

"I know right!~ But, it also had me wonder what it'd be like to be normal. Or hell, have a fight that would take everything I had plus more to win."

Subaru's eyes narrowed. The memory of the last few loops going through his mind.

Satoru, shoving him out of the way- half of his body obliterated because of his own weakness..

Then the last time, when he lost his arm. Both times were because of him.

Regulus Corneas... Subaru scowled, fists clenching.

Silence again—then a gust of wind swept across the rooftop, kicking at their hair and coats.

“A lot of people have died to that thing."

Gojo's smile softened. He sat up finally, resting his arms on his knees.

“Then let’s make sure that it breathes its last breath today. Together, right?”

Subaru looked up.

“Yeah,” he said. “Together.”

Gojo grinned wide.

“Alright then, dear student. After this whale’s done for, I say we take a week off. Hot springs. Maybe a date—wait, no, that’s weird... Forget that.”

Subaru made a face. “What is wrong with you?”

“Too much,” Gojo said, finger to his chin. “And basically nothing at the same time!”

They both laughed. The tension didn’t disappear—but it shifted. It became something bearable.

Above them, the sun still shone.

“I totally forgot why I came up here... to tell you that Crusch's speech was gonna start..!”

“Ah.”

---

Dozens of soldiers thundered across the open plain, their ground dragons churning up clouds of dust as metal clanked with rhythmic intensity. Armor glinted under the sun, the formation moving as a single, surging wave of steel and scale.

Among them, Satoru Gojo sat upright on a mount, posture relaxed but eyes alert, scanning the horizon beneath tinted black lenses. It was a surreal sight—magic, muscle, and medieval warfare—like something plucked out of a fantasy novel and dropped straight infront of him.

Then he noticed a familiar duo drawing up beside him.

Subaru, atop a sleek black ground dragon that moved with unnatural ease, smirked. Rem sat behind him, her expression serene despite the speed of their advance.

Gojo narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.
“How the hell did you of all people end up with the coolest ground dragon of the lot?”

Subaru grinned, smugly. “One could call it fate. Or chemistry. Maybe even love at first sight.”

“Yeah, or dumb luck. You probably tripped onto it and it imprinted on you out of pity,” Gojo replied flatly, only to suddenly stand on his dragon’s saddle, arms folded like he was posing for a magazine cover. “Betcha can’t do this though.”

“OH YEAH?!”

Gojo swore he saw Subaru’s mount visibly sigh as the boy began to rise—shakily—onto his feet.

“See? Easy,” Subaru started, before—

SWOOSH-

He tumbled.

Only for Rem to casually reach out, snagging his tracksuit midair and lifting him back with ease.

“Subaru… you shouldn’t fall for such obvious baits,” she said, softly.

“Right? Especially when he’d lose every time,” Gojo added, grinning like a wolf.

Subaru pouted. “You two are impossible.”

But the humor faded when Rem leaned in, her tone shifting, eyes sharp.
“Subaru believes the Witch’s Cult will also target Arlam village and the mansion.”

Gojo blinked, the grin wiped clean from his face. He turned toward Subaru.

“…And you forgot to mention that little detail?”

Subaru looked down slightly, the light in his eyes dimming.

“It’s because of Emilia…”

The air grew heavier.

“…Right. Fanatics. Witch-obsessed lunatics.” Gojo’s voice was quieter now, more serious. “Annoyingly, right now we've got the whale to worry about over all else though.”

---

Beneath Flugel’s Tree...

The colossal tree loomed overhead, its titanic branches piercing the clouds, as if trying to embrace the very sky.

Satoru Gojo stood at the base, neck craned, sunglasses reflecting the heavens above.

He let out a low whistle.

“Now that is one hell of a tree...”

He wasn’t easily impressed—back on Earth, he’d seen the wonders of the modern world. But this? A tree that dwarfed mountains and defied the horizon? Even he had to admit it.. awe was appropriate.

His eyes drifted downward at last. The soldiers of the Crusch camp were arrayed in ordered lines, disciplined and silent, mounted atop restless ground dragons. The air was tense, brimming with the electricity of impending chaos.

And Gojo was the only one not mounted, hands in his pockets, relaxed as ever.

Then—

Beep.. Beep.. Beep..

A sharp ringtone sliced through the silence. Subaru’s phone, aka the signal.

Crusch’s eyes sharpened.
“Men, on guard!”

A ripple of unrest spread through the ranks. Nervous eyes scanned the moonlit sky.

“I—I don’t see it!” one soldier called out.

But Gojo tilted his head, a slight grin curling at his lips.

“There it is…”

High above, framed against the full moon, a massive silhouette drifted silently.

Then—ROOOOOAAAAARRRRR!

A bellow unlike anything natural. A sound that tore through the night like the scream of an ancient god.

The White Whale had come.

And yet—no one ran. Not this time.

They had steel in their hands. Fire in their hearts. Grudges carved deep into their souls.

They were ready.

SWOOOOSH—

It plummeted like a meteor, the size of a fortress, wind screaming in its wake.

Gojo chuckled.
“Fast for a literal flying whale. This might actually be fun.”

“Let 'em have it!!” Subaru roared, rising in his saddle, Rem by his side. The maid’s hands shimmered with mana—spears of glacial ice launching skyward and burying into the whale’s underbelly.

It howled again—less injured, and more outraged.

Then a synchronized battle cry erupted from the army as they charged.

Staying back however.. was Crusch Karsten and Gojo Satoru, her gaze sharp as she watched.

“That student of mine,” Gojo muttered, “Is growing into quite the madman. Can’t say I’d have it any other way though!”

Crusch allowed herself a faint chuckle. But her voice was firm.
“Fire it.”

From behind them, a hidden weapon unveiled itself, a massive monolithic cannon aimed at the sky.

BOOM—!!

A beam of blinding blue light tore across the night sky.

Then, night became day.

Gojo’s jaw slackened.

“…What the hell was that?”

“The Night Banisher,” Crusch replied.

“Yeah, no, I figured that part out,” he muttered, stretching his shoulders. “..Suppose this is where I clock in. Ciao~!”

A shimmer rippled through space as Gojo vanished—reality folding around him.

He reappeared mid-charge, just ahead of Subaru and Rem, who were barely clinging to their speeding dragon.

“S-Sensei?!”

Gojo waved casually, smile wide—even as the whale thundered down behind them, shadow eclipsing all.

“Yo. You weren’t kidding about being a Mabeast magnet, huh?”

The creature’s jaws opened wide, ready to consume everything in it's charge.

But Gojo didn’t flinch.

“Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we, fish? Or… mammal? I forget..”

STEP- STEP- SWOOSH-

At the last possible second, he leapt—body twisting, a single fluid vault into the air.

Then—CRACK!!

His heel slammed down onto the whale’s skull.

A shockwave exploded outward—air snapping, rock shattering, earth screaming beneath the force.

The whale’s body was driven into the ground, carving a trench of broken stone and dust for dozens of meters. A jagged red gouge seared across its face as its body tumbled, flailing in pain.

Gojo landed lightly beside it, dust swirling around him, his coat fluttering in the aftermath.

“Not bad... Crusch Karsten,” he said, glancing back. A deep gash had split the beast’s flesh.

That wind blade of hers packs a punch. Sword? Or Divine Protection?

He exhaled.

“…Still only took off like 1HP. Guess that’s what I get for saying we wouldn’t need the fancy stuff like cannons for this.”

His smile sharpened.

Gojo reached up, pulled his sunglasses from his face, and slid them into his pocket with a soft click. Without their shade, the glow of his Six Eyes shimmered, catching the faint starlight.

Then—he moved.

His gaze shifted just in time to witness Wilhelm van Astrea land squarely before the descending behemoth, blade drawn in a single blur of steel and fury.

“I have dreamed of nothing but this day...”

His voice was low. Steady. Reverent.

Then it deepened—aged not by time, but by the weight of vengeance.

“FOR THE PAST FOURTEEN YEARS—!!”

CRACK—

The earth beneath him shattered under the weight of the White Whale’s descent—and Wilhelm lunged.

Like a ghost of war, he flew.

Flipping through the sky in a master’s spiral, his sword gleamed with purpose. Then—

THRUST—!

The blade pierced deep into the whale’s cranium—blood erupted like a geyser, staining Wilhelm’s coat, his face, even the air around him in crimson.

But he did not relent.

The whale screeched, twisting violently, flailing its body through the sky in a desperate effort to dislodge the sword demon impaled in its skull.

But.. Wilhelm..

He ran—he sprinted across the beast’s back as if it were solid ground—each step another slash, another cut, his blade tearing an enormous gash across its upper-back and flanks like a seam being ripped open.

Then—inevitably—he was flung off, his form spiraling downward.

But he didn’t panic.

He didn’t have to.

Because he trusted in the man who would never let him fall.

“You're not bad for an old fart!”

Gojo blurred through the sky from far above, a smirk plastered on his face—grinning with the thrill of battle, as if the air itself bowed to his arrival.

BOOM—!!

The impact sounded like a lightning strike. Like thunder screamed from Zeus himself.

Gojo’s strike landed true—but the whale didn't yield. Its body shuddered violently, but it wasn't crushed, wasn't broken.

It merely descended faster.

Gojo hovered mid-air, feet planted on nothing, palm raised as his eyes tracked Wilhelm’s falling form.

"Who said your turn was up, huh?"

A flick of his wrist.
“Blue.”

Gravity twisted like a thread. Space compressed—and Wilhelm was caught, redirected, flung upward—back into the air, back toward the beast, like a bullet reborn.

The Sword Demon’s eyes widened, just a little.

Then he smiled.

“Thank you… Satoru.”

Another roar. Another eruption of wind.

SHRRAAK—!!

Crusch’s blade—her slash of air—tore into the White Whale again, ripping a fresh wound along its side from afar. It bled, but the blood was defiant. The damage wasn’t deep. Not enough.

Still, Wilhelm descended—his body spinning, his sword drawing a spiral of violence down the whale’s flank, shredding white hide and revealing the glistening crimson beneath.

He leapt away again, trusting completely in the chain of warriors at his back.

“Al Goa!”

Multiple voices chanted from below—magic igniting with fierce synchrony.

SWOOSH—

A barrage of flame tore through the air—beams of concentrated fire, crashing into the wounded beast’s flesh.

The blood boiled.

Then—

BOOOOOOM—!!

The sky split open as the explosion consumed the creature in a rising column of fire. The shockwave was enormous—rolling over the plain like a tidal wave of sound and heat.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, coat flapping in the rippling wind.

Smoke. Ash. A whale-sized crater forming mid-air from sheer force.

But even before the embers faded—

THUMP—

The whale’s body shifted. Its bloodied form emerging through smoke—eyes gleaming with primal rage, its scream rattling the bones of every living thing present.

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“…Even tougher than it looks.. somehow.”

His gaze sharpened, tone dropping into something colder. Calculating.

“All that... probably only shaved off a quarter of its health I'd imagine..”

He cracked his knuckles slowly.

“Guess I’ll wait just a little longer before I really let loose.”

Then, he vanished—reappearing on the battlefield below with a casual flicker of cursed energy.

"Oi—old man, batter up!"
Gojo called, hand cupped to his mouth. Wilhelm glanced his way just as he neared the ground.

Gojo didn’t wait.

He leapt, soaring over Wilhelm in an upward arc, palm already pulled back and glowing blue.

"Aaaand—UP WE GO!"

With a fierce snap of motion, he flung his arm forward—Blue activated, warping space with explosive force. It snatched Wilhelm behind him mid-air and hurled him like a missile past and toward the descending White Whale.

"HYAAAHHH!!"
Wilhelm screamed—not in fear, but in exhilaration. A scream birthed from vengeance finally within reach.

His feet slammed onto the whale’s temple with terrifying momentum—his sword plunged deep into the mabeast’s skull, blood bursting like a geyser.

One step became a lunge.

His blade, driven to the hilt, ripped sideways—cleaving open its flesh with unrelenting fury.

SWISH—SLASH—!!

Steel sang. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed across the clouds like rain.

With one last vicious pull, Wilhelm yanked his blade free—then struck downward with a vengeful roar, slicing clean through the whale’s massive golden eyelid—

SKREEEEEE—!!

A roar of absolute agony exploded from the beast as its eye, torn from the socket, plummeted to the earth below—

THOOM—!!

A crater formed where it landed. Wilhelm now stood atop the fallen eye, soaked in blood not his own—backlit by sunlight, sword poised like judgment itself.

The battlefield froze.

Even Subaru, atop his ground dragon with Rem, could only stare—wide-eyed, awestruck. Gojo landed with his usual smirk.

"Now that was badass. But I’m guessing that didn’t even put a dent in your appetite, huh?"

Wilhelm didn't respond. He didn’t have to. His silence was an oath renewed.

"The pain my dear Theresia endured…"
He finally said, voice low.
"…I intend to repay it. A hundred-fold."

Gojo opened his mouth for a witty remark—but stopped.

His eyes narrowed.

The White Whale was circling. Silently. Unnaturally.

"Satoru...?" Subaru asked, sensing the shift.

"Something’s wrong..."

Then the whale's jaw unhinged. It roared—a sound that shattered the air itself.

Even Gojo winced, one eye squinting in discomfort.

"Really should consider singing lessons..."

And then—

FWOOOOOOM—!!!

Fog. A tidal wave of smoke burst from the whale’s body—engulfing the entire field. Within seconds, visibility dropped to zero.

Gojo narrowed his eyes.
"This stuff’s thick... It's even cutting off my senses..."

He looked around. Nothing. No allies. No enemies. No sound.

"Subaru? Wilhelm? Rem?"

"Well that’s just grea—"
His eyes snapped wide. His instincts screamed.

FWOOOOOOOSH—!!

A beam of condensed mist erupted from the fog, slamming into him. The ground beneath evaporated, scorched clean.

But—

Gojo stood unharmed.
Infinity had triggered through Gojo's instincts alone at the last possible moment.

He exhaled slowly, annoyed.
"..Alright. That could’ve actually been bad... Looks like I let my guard down after watching it get bullied like a pinata."

Infinity flickered off once more.

"Not gonna keep that on the whole time. I’m here for a good time after all, no fun bullying a whale."

But still... it's getting a bit boring.

His eyes suddenly flared.

Cursed energy—Subaru.

With a low crouch, he launched himself forward, tearing through the mist like a meteor, relying on nothing but instinct and precision-honed senses.

Then—he found them.

Subaru and Rem, still atop the ground dragon, charging forward through the haze.

Gojo materialized beside them like a specter, grinning like a lunatic.

"GAHH—!! SATORU-SENSEI?!"

"Yo!"

"...How do you always manage to jumpscare me—even in mist-fog warzones?!"

"Hey, that one wasn’t even on purpose. But damn, that dragon’s got legs—"

THOOM-

Gojo stumbled, eyes wide.

There.
The White Whale. Closer than it had any right to be without him noticing.

"Oh crap—"

He jumped.

"UL HUMA!"
Rem cried out. An enormous pillar of jagged ice erupted from the ground, forcing the whale aside and upright.

Gojo twisted mid-air—his foot smashed into the whale’s face, sending it hurtling through the mist like a meteor, shredding rock and stone before vanishing from view.

He landed beside Subaru and Rem, but didn’t speak.

No quip. No smirk just yet.

Just a flash of his hand—Blue activated again, yanking the entire dragon sideways moments before a second attack struck.

BOOOOOOM—!!

The whale’s tail slammed into the earth where they’d been—a deliberate, calculated blow.

Gojo’s brows furrowed.
"...It’s adjusting to my senses. That’s... amusing."

CRACK—FWOOOSH—!!

The ground beneath Gojo exploded, sending debris sky-high. He flipped, landing on a flying chunk of stone—balancing like it was solid ground.

"This mist is getting real old..."

He furrowed his brows, weighing the decision.

Should he just vaporize the whale now? Should he step aside for Wilhelm?

He couldn't ponder any longer, a tail cut through the fog like a guillotine.

SWISH—CRACK—!!

It slammed into Gojo mid-thought, sending him flying out of the mist cloud like a comet—his body flying all the way across the battlefield and even into the side of Flugel’s Tree with a deafening CRASH-!

Bark splintered. Stone cracked. The wood shuddered.

Gojo’s body remained embedded in the trunk—half-buried in ancient wood and rock.

He coughed, blood dripping from his forehead as he gripped bark deep within the tree.
"..I've gotta stop letting my guard down..."

---

Subaru's POV...

CRACK—!!

The sky split open with a sound like the world itself had torn in two.

From the curtain of mist, a flash of white and blue—the whale’s tail, massive and unseen—smashed directly into Gojo’s side.

"SENSEI—!!"

Subaru’s heart stopped.

Gojo was launched like a cannonball, a blur of light rocketing through the fog, vanishing into the heavens.

And then—Nothing. No sound. No laugh. No cocky quip.

Just silence.

He can’t be dead. No way.. Especially not from that... But still—!!

Subaru’s fists clenched, cursed energy flaring around him in a surge of furious black flame. His body screamed to run, to hide—but he didn’t listen.

Instead, he quickly stood, balanced atop the sprinting Patrasche.
He jumped.

A purple comet against a whale’s blood-colored eye.

BOOM—!!

His fist crashed forward with a squelch of fury, slamming into the beast’s eye. Right beside him—Wilhelm, bursting from the mist like a specter of vengeance, his blade driving deep into the whale’s face.

Their eyes met—just briefly—a moment of mutual recognition.

Shock. Respect. And then—

SKREEEEEEEEEEEE—!!

The whale shrieked, monstrous and maddened. It ignored Wilhelm completely, its jaw unhinging like a demon, rushing at Subaru with murderous hunger.

He dove aside, body moving on instinct. Earth erupted in its wake as it stormed past, jaws snapping chunks of stone like crackers.

Above—Rem descended, horn gleaming, a blur of blue and silver.

Her mace whistled through the air.

SLAM—!
She landed it, embedding the spike into the whale’s back, using it to swing herself forward and drive both feet directly into the eye Subaru had just struck.

The beast screamed again, thrashing wildly.

Subaru couldn’t help it—gave her a thumbs-up midair.

Back on Patrasche, they regrouped for a heartbeat before the whale surged after them, tearing through the landscape like a force of nature.

"Do I really smell that good?"

Rem didn’t miss a beat.
"It’s awful."

"...Ouch. You didn’t have to say it like that!"

A silhouette stood atop the whale. Wilhelm, drenched in blood not his own.

"You ignore me, monster?" he roared. "After 14 years of me pursuing you?!"

His sword drove deep again—but before he could leap further, the whale lifted off, sending him tumbling back to the earth.

He hit the ground hard—on one knee, stunned as the whale turned, descending fast.

Subaru's breath caught.

He wasn’t going to make it.

No. Not like this.

Not without finishing his vengeance.
Not without seeing his wife's soul avenged.

Subaru MOVED.
Cursed energy exploded beneath him as he rocketed forward, form shimmering with a deep, angrier violet.

His lips moved before he could think.
"I can return by—GHHK—!!"

Power erupted. His energy twisted—darker, sharper—pushing past his limit.

And then—

FWOOSH—!!

He was on the other side of the whale.

Wilhelm in his arms.

The old man blinked in shock.
"S-Subaru...!?"

Subaru set him down, fists raised again.
"No time for speeches! You know how good I smell right now, you bastard? Come get a taste!"

The whale roared. The mist churning in anger.
And Subaru laughed—wild and defiant, just like his Sensei.

"Let’s dance!"

With a singular step.. he leapt high, propelling himself through the air and over the great mabeast. Mimicking Gojo’s somersault from earlier, his grip slamming into the whale’s face before his hands pry into it's flesh like a pair of vices.

The whale shrieked in annoyance, tilting upwards to fly higher and higher into the sky, then—

Something changed.

He saw two shapes below.. Hovering. Waiting.

Wait… what-?

Confusion turned to joy.

Then—a blast of blinding blue erupted beneath them. A singularity of cursed energy pulling the mist into itself, tearing it apart like paper.

The fog vanished in an instant.

Subaru's eyes widened.
There was only one person in the world who could do that.

"SENSEI!!"

High above, hand extended, floated Satoru Gojo, his body aglow with cursed light, blood dripping over one eye—and a cocky grin cutting through all else.

---

"Sorry I'm late, Subaru..."

Although neither could hear the other, they didn't need to. As soon as eye-contact was made, Subaru just smirked.

Then... slowly but surely..

The boy stood up atop the edge of the whale's head.

Gojo looked back, six eyes focused.
“That’s my student, alright. Time to end this.”

Their gazes locked across the battlefield—and Subaru jumped, arms swung wide.

Straight off the whale.

The beast followed, drawn by scent, by bloodlust—by rage.

And Subaru just grinned.
"Let’s see how much you like surprises."

Above, Gojo turned his gaze toward the towering peak of Flugel’s Tree.

And then—

FLICKER-

He vanished. Then reappeared toward the tree's summit where branches endlessly overlapped and intertwined.

CRACK—!!

His fist shattered the base of a sikngle colossal branch—almost as long as the whale itself.

And then—with a breath, a smirk, and every ounce of power his absurdly overpowered frame could muster—

He pulled it back and hurled it, as hard as he could.

"BADASS TECHNIQUE—EAT THIS TREE, YOU DAMN FISH!!"

The branch screamed through the air like a blur.

Subaru fell, laughing like a madman, the whale hot on his heels.

Then—

FWOOOOOSH—!! THUD—!!

The branch speared clean through the beast’s side, it's edge bursting out the other end as the wood rooted itself into the whale's body.

SKREEEEEE—!!

The whale twisted in agony, spiraling uncontrollably in it's descent—before crashing down in a cataclysmic impact below.

BOOOOOOOM—!!

The earth split, dust and debris flying skyward as its titanic body carved a trench in the battlefield.

And then—

Silence.

Subaru was falling, too fast—!

FWOOM—

Gojo appeared again, Blue cushioning his descent.

He landed with a soft thud, blinking in surprise.

Rem reached him first, eyes frantic.
"Subaru!! Are you hurt?!"

"...Never been better."
He managed a smile—until a shadow fell over him.

Gojo, smirking despite the blood.

"Yo."

Subaru squinted.
"Cutting it a little close, don’t you think... Sensei?"

Gojo wiped his face, sunglasses back in hand.
"Close is stylish."

He grinned.
"And besides... the hero’s always fashionably late right!"

---

With a roar that echoed through the clearing, Wilhelm charged forward, muscles coiling like a spring. Every step carried the weight of his years, of his loss, of his unyielding resolve.

The whale twisted, trying to shake him off, but Wilhelm was faster. More determined.

He leapt—soaring with an almost desperate grace, blade gleaming in the sunlight overhead before he brought it directly down atop the whale, this time between ribs, where the skin was thinner, and far more vulnerable.

His sword sank deep, far deeper than any of his attacks prior, piercing muscle and flesh with a sickening squelch.

The whale screamed—a sound of pure, tortured rage and defeat.

Wilhelm twisted the blade, the metal biting into the giant beast further.

And then, with a roar, he pulled the sword free, shifting the metal into the air, hand only clutching tighter on the hilt.

A spray of red blood erupted, mingling with the dirt and dust beneath it's corpse.

With a guttural cry, Wilhelm drove the blade upwards, straight into the whale’s gaping maw—right where its immense jaws could no longer close.

Steel shattered bone, metal screeched against flesh.

The whale's roar turned to a gurgle—its massive body convulsing violently, limbs thrashing wildly as the life bled from it.

Wilhelm slammed his boots against its trembling hide, pushing the sword even deeper, twisting with cruel precision—

Delivering not just a wound, but a sentence.

The death sentence, specifically.

Its movements slowed. Its breath hitched. Its colossal form shuddered—then, with a final, shattering bellow that split the skies, the whale fell still.

Wilhelm stood tall amidst the chaos, chest heaving, blade dripping and still embedded in the beast’s still body.-

He looked up, and raised his sword to the sky, eyes shining with fierce triumph.

“For you, Theresia,” he whispered, eyes shut.

And as the dust settled, the battle finally quieted, the weight of years of pain and vengeance finally lifted.

For they had finally won.

Though only half the battle.

Notes:

Apologies this one took a bit longer.

Chapter 15: The Fight for Sloth.

The remnants of the battlefield were still fresh: shattered earth, blood-stained ground, and the slowly fading scent of beast and blood. The soldiers who survived the White Whale gathered in a solemn circle, weary yet alive, their spirits heavy but intact, an almost bitter victory.

Crusch Carsten stood proudly beside them. Her voice was resolute, carrying over the hushed wind:

"Let it be known... that Natsuki Subaru and Satoru Gojo are the ones who felled the White Whale."

Silence reigned. Then came nods, whispers of awe, disbelief, and finally... respect.

Subaru stood before them, his battered coat fluttering gently in the wind. At his sides sat Gojo, relaxed but alert. Rem, close and quiet. Wilhelm and Ferris, listening intently... and Crusch herself, standing with pride and steel in her spine.

The survivors leaned in. Every word carried weight now.

Subaru spoke, low and grave.
“We’re heading to the Mathers Domain. The Witch’s Cult is hiding in the forest there. It’s not just some fanatic pawns however—we’re talking about two Sin Archbishops.”

A chill passed through the crowd. Murmurs of alarm rippled out.

This threat... it might be worse than the White Whale.

Someone from the back raised their voice, trembling with concern.
“What about the villagers?”

Subaru’s gaze hardened.
“They’ve already been warned. By the time the Cult strikes, they’ll be long gone.”

His fingers laced together, knuckles white. He leaned forward slightly—his voice was calm, but barely contained fury leaked from his expression. Rage... not just at what was coming, but at what had already been witnessed.

Wilhelm caught it first. So did Gojo.

Subaru turned toward the Sword Demon.
“Wilhelm. I know I’m asking a lot, but... I want you at my side.”

A pause.

“I want you to help me slay one of the Archbishops.”

Betelgeuse... Romanee-Conti....

The silence was heavy.

For a brief second, Wilhelm blinked, stunned. But then—steel returned to his eyes.
“I have an immeasurable debt to you, Natsuki Subaru. If this can pay even the smallest piece of that... then I’ll follow you. Into Hell, if need be.”

A rare, weathered smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Subaru exhaled—tension lifting.
“Good. That’s very good.”

Crusch’s men began preparing for departure. Ground dragons snorted and stomped as supply carts were loaded. The carcass of the White Whale was already being prepared for transport—its colossal mass needed to be shown to the world, proof that a living calamity had been slain.

Satoru Gojo stood apart from the group, arms folded, eyes on the horizon. The wind tugged at his long coat as though it were eager to pull him into the next battle.

Footsteps approached behind him. Subaru.

“You know Crusch and her army won’t get to the forest for a few hours,” Subaru muttered.

Gojo gave a playful grin without looking back.
“Oh? That sounds suspiciously like you’re worried about your teacher. You do remember I’m basically untouchable, right? Infinity’s going to be up the entire time. Nothing’s getting near me~.”

But Subaru didn’t laugh. His expression stayed firm. Grim.

“You know a lot more than you're letting on, huh,” Gojo noted, his smile gone.

Subaru didn’t deny it.
“There’ll be someone when the attack comes… the other Archbishop. I’ve seen what he can do...”

He paused. His voice lowered to barely more than a whisper.
“Either he’s like you.. Or he’s worse.”

A vision flickered in Subaru’s mind..
That endless, suffocating snowstorm… and an all-white figure with a golden glare at the heart of it, untouched, serene, unholy.. like a devil untouched despite the surrounding hellfire.

Gojo raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so…”

“It is. So please—Satoru—don’t play around. If you do... you might regret it...”

That caught him off guard. Not the words, but the way Subaru said them. So certain. So... final.. as if he somehow knew the outcome.

Gojo chuckled, trying to shake the chill running down his spine.

There was no reason Subaru should know these things. The timing of the Whale. The Cult’s next move. Even this strange certainty about an Archbishop’s power. None of it made sense. And yet—Gojo believed him.

He let out a long breath, eyes scanning the horizon once more.

“Alright. Consider it a promise. I won’t mess around.”

Then, with a casual gesture, he pressed his hands together—space shimmered—and Satoru Gojo vanished.

Subaru stared at the space he left behind, his fists slowly clenching at his sides.

“If you fail…”

His voice trembled. Quiet. Almost broken.

“…I’ll do this all over again. No matter how many times it takes. Until you survive.”

---

He appeared like a distortion in reality—one moment, silence. The next, Satoru Gojo was simply there.

Space barely recovered from his arrival, the air rippling where he stood as though the world hadn’t fully agreed to let him in.

Cerulean eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses as he scanned the terrain—a quiet village, small and still, stretched a few hundred meters away.

"Shucks," he muttered, cracking his neck. "Guess I was a little off."

Then—he vanished.

A violet blur streaked across the plains, dragging pressure in its wake. Wind shattered around him. The landscape blurred as he travelled like a bullet.

Subaru said the Cult shouldn't have attacked yet. The village should be evacuated already. Just here to double check... Can't have any civilians around when the fireworks go off, right?

He slowed near the village’s edge, casually brushing his hair back as his hands slipped back into his pockets.

His feet touched down.

Silence.

Not peace. Not quiet. Silence. The kind that stares back.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed. His smile, once present, slipped away.

He stepped forward.

There—beside one of the small wooden huts—a group of women stood, huddled together like they had forgotten how to breathe. Eyes wide. Shoulders locked. Their gazes never moved from the ground.

They weren’t alone. All across the village—women. Only women. Frozen in place. Staring at nothing.

Something wasn’t right.

Gojo stopped walking.

“...They’re all women?” Gojo muttered. “Why—”

And then—
A voice.

Silken. Cold. Absolute.

“Why yes, of course. What kind of man do you take me for? Some sickened barbarian—grunting over the flesh of his own gender like a starving mabeast in heat? That’s repulsive. Unspeakably uncultured.”

The world snapped.

Gojo’s body tensed, instincts flaring. His head jerked toward the voice—and so did every woman in the vicinity. Their bodies flinched on command, as though the voice alone was a whip at their spines.

Then he saw him.

A man.

No... not a man.

A monster in human flesh.

He walked as if the ground were honored to hold him. Clad in immaculate white—suit pristine, shoes untouched by dust—perfection personified. His hands were laced calmly behind his back, posture like a statue carved by gods. His face bore a serene smile, and his eyes...

Golden. Not glowing—radiating. Beautiful. Unnatural. Wrong.

The kind of gaze that looked through you.

Gojo’s smile vanished. He scanned—Six Eyes locking on—

But there was nothing.

Not hidden power. Not suppressed cursed energy. Not trickery.

A void. A total absence. Like looking into a black hole with a charming face.

His stomach dropped half an inch.

“…You’re not.. what the hell are you..?” Gojo muttered.

The man bowed slightly, like a noble addressing a lesser.

“Regulus Corneas. Sin Archbishop representing Greed. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I do so loathe false courtesy... Satoru Gojo."

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, fists clenching.
“You know my name..?”

Regulus smiled, expression unnervingly calm.
“But of course. It would be unjust of me to act without knowing the name of the one who dares obstruct me, wouldn’t it? That would make me thoughtless, ignorant, like you people always accuse others of being. I’m not like that. I take responsibility. I know exactly who you are—Satoru Gojo.”

His head turned sharply, eyes gliding toward the trembling women at his side.
“Honestly, this is such a bother. I don’t enjoy this sort of thing, you know. Conflict, violence—it’s all so barbaric. A man like myself, someone who lives with absolute conviction, someone who understands what true love and justice are, shouldn’t have to dirty his hands. Don’t you agree?”

A door creaked open behind him. From the hut, at least a dozen villagers were dragged into view—tied, gagged, terrified.

Gojo’s jaw tensed.

Dammit, Subaru. Either your timing's off, or this bastard doesn’t follow it like you thought.. and he'd show up before I would regardless..? Probably deliberate, considering I’m his target.

Gojo stepped forward, arms dropping to his sides, voice flat.
“Alright then, Regulus Corny-ass. Sounds like you’re just begging for an ass-whooping.”

For a moment, silence. Then—

Regulus twitched.

The veins around his temple bulged, face flushing with rage. His calm expression cracking like cheap porcelain.

“You...? You DARE...!? What did you just say to me? Do you think you’re clever? Superior? Do you think mocking a man who’s done nothing wrong!?—who has only ever lived justly and virtuously—makes you impressive? Huh!?”

He stepped forward, the step light but filled with dangerous intent.

“I have never harmed anyone without cause! Every action I’ve taken—every single one—has been measured, justified, morally correct! Unlike you people, who think strength gives you license to act however you please!”

His wives flinched, shrinking back with fear. One of them made the mistake of meeting his eye. His gaze snapped to her.

“You! Why are you looking at me like that!? I haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t you dare look at me like I’m some kind of monster! That face—that expression—it’s not worthy of a wife I’ve deemed perfect. It's insulting...”

His voice cracked with fury.

“Die.”

Gojo couldn't do anything, it happened too fast.

Tap-

Just a tap. The tip of Regulus’s boot touched the earth. Then—

Blood.

Her body ruptured before Gojo’s eyes, as if reality itself had torn her asunder. No warning, no buildup—just a brutal absence of delay. The attack didn’t impact her. It eradicated her. The woman fell in several ruined pieces, her limbs severed, her torso split, and her life extinguished.

There was no sound of motion—only the wet, dull thud of a corpse hitting the dirt.

What… was that? Even with Six Eyes, I didn’t see it coming. I could barely make out the shape of wind...

Gojo’s fists clenched as his gaze landed on her ruined form.

Regulus’s breathing was steady—too steady.

“This—this is your fault. All your fault. If she had only remained silent, stayed grateful and obedient, then none of this would’ve happened! But no—she chose defiance. And now?”

He inhaled slowly, exhaled like he were calming himself. Then, soft and composed—

“Bring one out. A child, preferably.”

One of the wives hesitated, trembling—then obeyed. From the hut came a small, crying girl with orange hair, green eyes, and a bright red bow.

Petra... Subaru's friend, saw them playing one time.. shit...

Regulus took her with ease, one hand lifting her by the collar like a doll. Petra dangled helplessly, muffled sobs behind the rope gag, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He grinned.

“Now then, Satoru Gojo. If you truly want to be the hero here… if you don’t wish to see this innocent little girl become a fine red paste…”

Petra’s eyes widened with raw fear. Her cries turned frantic, legs kicking weakly in the air.

“…then you’ll stand there, right there, and receive one—just one—of my attacks. That’s reasonable, isn’t it? I’m being fair, after all.”

Gojo’s body tensed, eyes narrowing. But then—

A slight smirk.

“Suit yourself then. But don’t come crying when I’m standing without a scratch. Oh, and—you’ll release the villagers after that, right? Surely someone as just and moral as yourself can agree to that I'd imagine.”

Regulus laughed—gently, politely.

“Why of course. You have my word.”

He raised one hand, slow and unthreatening. A flick of the wrist.

Gojo’s instincts roared, telling him to dodge, begging for him to.

I’ll  just block it with Infinity, grab Petra, and put this bastard down while he’s monologuing—

But then—

Agony.

A hurricane of stillness, of pure destruction, shattered through him. Flesh peeled like paper, muscle torn as if by invisible teeth. An arm flew, then a leg. Blood painted the earth.

The world stopped for him.

Gojo’s body fell, eyes open—but lifeless, crimson streaking down his cheek.

Satoru Gojo… was dead..(?)

---

The little girl—Petra—squealed in shock at the sight of Gojo’s battered corpse.

Regulus scoffed, casually tossing the child aside, shaking his head with disdain.
“They’re all the same. So confident. So convinced they’re unstoppable... until they meet me.”

He turned away, casting one last cold glance at Gojo’s lifeless form before locking eyes with one of the wives nearest him.
“Make sure every last villager is dead by the time I return. Annoyingly, I have unfinished business with that fractured soul of Sloth.”

The wives didn’t utter a single word. Not one dared meet Regulus’s gaze. Even after he left, the heavy silence lingered, suffocating and absolute.

---

Suguru used to talk about it endlessly—
“To protect the weak,” he'd say, always with that calm, righteous certainty.

Gojo never thought about it that way.
He didn’t have to.

He was born blessed. Talented beyond reason. Perfect, they said.
He never had to try to be the best—so he never did.
Hence the fact he still hadn’t learned Red.

Not because he couldn’t.
Because he didn’t need to...

He remembered when it first happened— The shift.

One blink and the world changed.

He wasn’t in Japan anymore. Not even Earth.
A medieval city sprawled beneath a yellow sun. Furred creatures, odd beast-kin, roamed the streets in laughter and light.

He was confused. But not unhappy.

No more Gojo clan. No more elders, no more rules.
He was free.

And yet… bitterness sunk deep.

He’d never see Suguru again...
Never hear Shoko call him an idiot under her breath...

That silence haunted him more than any curse ever could.

Then he met him—
A boy. Japanese, like him.

Only… so weak.
Painfully, embarrassingly weak.

But he had something. Potential.
Maybe, just maybe—he too could reach where Gojo stood.

Of course, Gojo never said that.
Wouldn't be very cool, would it now?

Time passed. The world spun on.
And without noticing… Gojo began to change.

A mindset forming—something close to Suguru’s.
Yet different.

Less about the weak.
More about... what he wanted to be strong for.

Then came the silence.

The death.

The world began to glow—blue.
Not light. Not flame.
Just Cursed Energy, swirling like a storm—angry, confused, alive.

Fragments of a lesson—scattered, half-forgotten.

“Negative energy destroys.”
“Positive reverses.”
“Life born from death.”

..Life born from death...

“Don’t think. Feel.”

The blue twisted, darkened—
Turned to Red.

Not just color.
Concept.

The rejection of nothingness.
The refusal to stay dead.

His mind calmed.
Pain still pulsed—he remembered the impact, the way his body shattered like glass.

But beneath the agony, something else stirred.

Reconstruction.

A twitch.
A flicker in his finger from the arm that was eviscerated a moment prior.

Blood dissipated... Muscle rethreaded... Bone reformed..

He sucked in air—sharply.
A real breath. First breath anew.

And with it—Satoru Gojo returned.

Awakened.

I’m not done just yet....

---

Subaru POV...

Subaru Natsuki emerged from the foliage of the treeline.

Opposite him stood a disturbing, green-skinned man, and further behind, a towering rocky monolith that loomed like a cave entrance.

"Aaaahhhh..! I’ve been waiting for you... believer in love!"
His voice cracked, rising sharply as his arms flailed wide, eyes bulging, grin stretched impossibly wide—teeth jagged and gleaming.

"I am the Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult... the embodiment of Sloth... Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti!!"

"I welcome you... O’ blessed child whose pangs of love drip so deliciously... SO MAGNIFICENTLY!!"
He yelped, hands clawing at his own skin, pulling it grotesquely as he rocked side to side like a lunatic.

Subaru was already moving. Stopping just a meter from Betelgeuse, forced to wear a strained smile.

Truthfully, it took everything he had not to unleash a barrage of punches.

"I really appreciate the warm... uh, welcome. Though I’m not sure what to make of this love obsession you’ve got."

"Ahhh... of COURSE~!" Betelgeuse squealed, voice suddenly high and sing-song.
"Everyone, on their special day, realizes they’re LOVED... oh yes, they feel it—love, love, love—lovelovelove... LOOOVE!!"

Subaru chuckled, eyebrows raising.
"Right... so what now?"

Betelgeuse’s nostrils flared as he grinned like a feral beast.
"Ah, the love... so pungent... you... could it be you’re Pride? The one archbishop still vacant...?"

He shuffled closer, neck twisting unnaturally—like a cursed doll’s—eyes bloodshot and unblinking.
"You... have the gospel, yes...?"

Subaru paused, considering.

Then, his smile cracked wider.
"Yep. If you wanna see it, come a little closer... hold on..."

Betelgeuse leaned in, eyes gleaming feverishly as Subaru’s hand slipped inside his jacket.

He breathed deep, fury churning—and then—

SWOOSH—

His fist, glowing purple with destructive energy, shot forward.

FWOOM!

It slammed into Betelgeuse’s face with brutal force, shattering teeth flying, the punch burrowing grotesquely into his flesh—sending him skidding into the rocky wall with a sickening CRASH.

"Here’s my love, you asshole!"

Subaru exhaled, satisfaction washing over him—but the fight was far from over.

"WILHELM, AS I TOLD YOU—NOW!"

At his command, the Sword Demon burst from the trees, blade flashing with lethal speed.

Three cultists charged from the cave—

SWISH—SWOOSH—SWISH—

Wilhelm’s blade screamed through the air, each slash felling an enemy in brutal succession.

From the smoke, a whisper echoed...

"Authority of Sloth... Unseen Hands..."

Several sinister purple hands emerged, creeping through the haze toward the unsuspecting Wilhelm.

"Old man—dead ahead!"

Subaru’s voice cut through the chaos.

Wilhelm tensed, legs buckling before he dove backwards just in time.

The spectral hands froze midair.

"You... you can see...?"

Betelgeuse hissed, staggering out of the smoke with half his face collapsed—his grin faltered.

The hands lunged—one from above, two from the flanks, one low toward Subaru’s legs.

"DODGE!"
Subaru barked at Wilhelm—then ducked, rolled forward, and countered with another cursed-infused punch, smashing a spectral hand midair, causing it to flicker and burst.

"IMPOSSIBLE—IMPOSSIBLE—IMPOSSIBLE!!!"
Betelgeuse screamed, voice twisting with a guttural shriek.

Wilhelm blurred into motion again, his blade cutting through two more hands, relying through his senses alone to counter.

Of course, battling the unseen is easier said than done, one soon grazing his shoulder and sending him tumbling back.

Subaru gritted his teeth.
"They’re stronger now. Faster too..."

And Betelgeuse wasn’t done.

"MY FINGERS!" he roared, pointing to the cave entrance.
"SHOW HIM! TEAR HIS BODY ASUNDER!!"

By his order, several cultists sprang out of the cave entrance—howling fanatics with madness in their eyes and bloodlust in their hands.

Wilhelm darted forward like a silver arrow.

"You're a more fit opponent for the Archbishop, Subaru," he growled, eyes sharp and merciless.
"Leave these... TO ME!!"

He tore into the chaos, a whirlwind of steel and death, cutting down the charging cultists with precision honed by decades of war, ensuring not a single one approaches Subaru.

Meanwhile, Betelgeuse convulsed, his body bending unnaturally.
"MY BRAAAAIN... MY BRAIN IT TREMBLES SO VERYVERYVERYYY MUCH...!!"
His fingers sank into his mouth, teeth gnashing through skin and drawing blood that dripped freely down his chin.
"OH THE PAIN—THE PLEASURE—THE PURPOSE!!"

Subaru exhaled slowly, his foot striking the ground with a thunderous CRACK-!

Then he moved—a blur of focus and fury.

A dozen Unseen Hands surged toward him—twisting, snaking, snapping with invisible wrath.

His foot pivoted sharply. His body twisted just enough to let the first hand scream past.

Another step—he spun beneath the second like a deadly dancer.

He leapt, twisting in the air, his fist drawn back, glowing with raw, cursed energy and the inescapable scent of the Witch.

"Haaaah..."

A breath to steady the soul.

His eyes locked onto the oncoming storm of purple hands, writhing toward him like a nest of serpents—

"TAKE... THIIIS!!"

With a roar, his fist crashed downward—not striking flesh, not touching shadow—but releasing a shockwave of rage, grief, power, and the Witch's lingering love that manifested with the cursed energy.

BOOOOOM-!

A radiant pulse exploded outward.

The air screamed.

The hands shattered—not torn, not dispersed—but violently undone, evaporated by the sheer pressure of that cursed blow.

Fragments of the unseen crackled like dying sparks, vanishing midair.

Betelgeuse’s body stiffened. His jaw hung open, twitching.

His head jerked violently side to side.

"WHAT—what—WHAT IS THISSSSSSS!?!?" He bellowed, crawling backward on all fours like a panicked beast, eyes wide with primal terror and anger.
"You—your hands—your HANDS—!! THEY CANNOT—MUST NOT—OVERTAKE MINE!!"

His mouth split into a hideous grin.
"Unless... unless the Witch has given you her blessing... NO—HER HEART!?"

He collapsed to his knees, laughing, sobbing, screeching.
"OOOOOH HOW JEALOUS I AM!! SO... SO ENVIOUS—WRETCHEDLY, SICKENINGLY ENVIOUS!!"

From his body, more Unseen Hands burst forth—dozens now—frenzied, uncontrolled, dragging soil, stone, and screaming wind in their wake.

They came from his back, his sides, his very shadow. The air pulsed with their unnatural rhythm.

"COME THEN—PRIDE! SHOW ME MORE! SHOW ME YOUR LOVE—OR LET ME CRUSH IT!!"

Subaru readied himself again, muscles tensing in preparation.

His mouth tightened into a line, breath ragged but steady.

“…All right then!”

With a roar, Subaru launched forward—his body a blur of purple energy. Every limb burned with cursed power, his movements fluid and vicious..

HOOK—!

SWOOSH—

JAB—!!

KICK—!

THUD—!!

Each strike met one of the invisible hands, and each one burst into nothingness, annihilated by sheer force alone.

But then—

CRUNCH—!!

"Urgkk—!!"

A single hand made it past his guard.

It clamped down on his side, tearing through flesh and muscle with monstrous strength.

Blood splattered—soaking the white fabric of his tracksuit.

Gritting his teeth, Subaru slammed his elbow downward with a heavy THUD-!

He stumbled back, clutching his ribs—eyes scanning, breath heaving.

The hands… they just kept coming.

This isn’t working. If I keep trading blows like this… I’m dead. They’re not slowing down. There’s no limit… no sign of exhaustion…

SWOOSH—!!

Subaru leapt back, his feet hammering against the ground—each step twisting him in a new direction. He zigzagged wildly, dancing through trees with a madman’s on his tail.

The unseen hands chased him relentlessly—devastation incarnate, each swing crushing the space he’d occupied just a heartbeat earlier.

CRAAASH—!!

He skidded across the dirt, only for his eyes to widen—

A massive shadow loomed above, growing larger and larger with each passing moment.

A tree—falling. Sliced clean at the base by one of the phantom hands.

“Hoomph—!!”

No time to dodge.

Subaru’s fist flew upward—SMASHING through the falling trunk, sending an explosion of splinters into the air.

Some pierced his skin. Others sliced clean through muscle.

He winced—blood trickling down his arm—but didn’t slow.

From somewhere in the chaos, he heard it...

“ONLY I AM WORTHY ENOUGH FOR HER LOVE—NOT YOU—ME!! ME–MEEEEE!!”

Betelgeuse’s deranged voice pierced the air, shrill and trembling.

Then—

SWISH—!!

“—!!”

SHIT—!!

One of the invisible hands snagged his shin. Its grip was iron. Crushing. Unforgiving.

He was lifted like a ragdoll— Then hurled.

“AHHHKK–!!”

His body slammed through a tree, splintering it at the spine.

Then another— And another—

Until finally, he collapsed forward, dropping to one knee in a trail of shattered bark and earth torn asunder.

His lungs seized. His vision a daze.

But his rage?
That only grew sharper.

Fuck… FUCK!! Is this it?! Is this really all I can do?!

He slammed a bloodied fist into the ground.

No. I refuse. This bastard… this cult… They took Rem. Took Emilia. Took EVERYTHING!

Slowly, shakily, Subaru stood back up.

Spine cracking, blood dripping from his mouth.

Eyes locked forward, burning with a fury older than death.

He smashed his fist into the ground and stood back up.

Blood smeared down his forehead, his vision blurred at the edges. Every breath came ragged, shallow, furious.

His hands trembled—not from fear, but from something deeper.

"I’ll tear this bastard apart..."

A thunderclap of laughter echoed across the ruined battlefield.

Betelgeuse’s voice was jagged, serrated with madness, echoing through the air like a broken hymn.
"YESSS!! THAT IS LOVE!! THE STRUGGLE! THE SUFFERING! THE DESPAIR!!"

The Archbishop hovered inches above the ground now, arms outstretched, drenched in blood both his own and others'.
His eyes were wild, teeth chipped, his face a mask of euphoric agony.

Subaru wiped the blood from his lip.
“Shut your damn mouth!"

The cursed aura around him began to pulse erratically yet again. The witch’s scent—her blessing, her curse—spiked to overwhelming levels.

Even Betelgeuse paused for half a second, trembling in surprise.

Subaru didn’t wait.

With a scream that tore from his throat, Subaru charged.

Every limb—his fist, elbow, knee, foot—each one burned with cursed energy, whipping through the air like a storm of violence. He met each Unseen Hand in turn. Hook—jab—kick—palm strike—Each impact burst the purple limbs into shrieking nothingness.

BOOM- BOOM- BOOM!

But they kept coming. And faster.

CRUNCH—!

Another hand snuck through—this one striking his ribs from behind. He spat blood, barely remaining upright.

Yet still—he fought.

Another hand wrapped around his arm this time—tightening, bones creaking—

But Subaru screamed, cursed energy flaring from his body in a violent surge that shattered the hand like glass.

“YOU THINK THIS IS ENOUGH TO STOP ME?!” he roared.

"YEEESSS!!" Betelgeuse cried in twisted ecstasy, hands trembling. "LET HER SEE YOU!! BURN FOR HER!! KILL FOR HER!! DIE—FOR—HER!!"

"SHUT UP!"
Subaru leapt forward again, ignoring the pain lacing through every joint in his body. He spun through the air, twisting his body midflight as cursed power coiled around his leg—

WHAM!!!

He kicked a hand so hard it imploded, the blastwave tearing a trench into the forest floor beneath him.

But then—

SWISH—GRAB!!

A dozen hands at once erupted from his flank, using the trees and environment for cover, latching onto every limb—ankles, wrists, waist, even his throat.

His entire body locked in place midair.

"NNGHK—!!"

Betelgeuse floated forward slowly now, face broken in an almost tender smile, twitching eyes filled with deranged affection.

"I will embrace you... I will embrace you completely..."

He raised one hand, and all the others lifted Subaru helplessly into the air.

Then—

The crushing began.

One hand dug into his side again.

Another snapped tight on his leg.

His shoulder popped.

Then an arm, crushed.

"AAAAAAAGHHHH—!!"
Subaru screamed, body arched in agony as bones creaked and tendons strained.

And still—his cursed energy pulsed.

Still—he glared down at the Archbishop with raw, unfiltered hatred.

A whisper in his mind.

This pain... Use it.

The ground trembled.

The cursed energy surrounding Subaru began to spiral—no longer flickering, but compressing, concentrating..

Betelgeuse’s eye twitched.

"...What...?"

Subaru's voice came low. Guttural.

With every ounce of strength, Subaru pulled—tendons screaming, bones grinding—forcing his limbs free from the crushing, invisible restraints.

He tore through one hand. Then another. Then another—
Until his broken form dropped to the earth in a blood-soaked stagger.

But he didn’t fall.

He refused to fall.

Blood ran into both eyes, but his vision never wavered.

His gaze locked forward—clear, burning, unshakable.

Focus it. Manifest it. Every ounce of cursed energy—drawn from pain, from hatred, from the memory of everyone this bastard stole from him.

All for one strike.

He moved.

His body screamed for him to stop.

He couldn’t.

No—he wouldn’t.

He didn’t even understand the words as they left his throat, only that something—was pulling them from his soul.

   “BLACK...”

A step. Arm drawn back low, coiled like a spring.

Fist clenched. Palm cupped tight against it, compressing the swirling darkness.

Another step— Then a lunge.

He became a bullet of rage, his arm hurtling forward—air screaming in its wake.

Betelgeuse’s eyes widened—true realization blooming across his distorted features.

"A-Ah... that love... love so pure... so divine..."

His voice faltered.

"...How... Env—"

   “-FLAAAAASH!!!”

The world erupted.

A jolt of black lightning from contact, shot point-blank through the Archbishop’s chest along with his fist.

BOOOOOM-

A crater tore open behind the Archbishop. Trees disintegrated. Stone eviscerated.

Betelgeuse’s body spasmed violently as the impact tore through him—a gaping hole in his torso, entrails coiling out, blood gushing in great curtains onto the dirt.

His mouth opened—

No scream came out.

Just blood.

Lots of it.

And then—

He fell.

Not just his body.

There was silence.

Subaru stared, chest heaving.

A long, long moment passed—

Then—

CRACK—!!!

His boot slammed down on the Archbishop’s head, crushing it like an overripe fruit.

Skull, blood, and matter sprayed out in sickening arcs against the ground.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t recoil. Didn’t feel a damn thing. This man… was the exception.

He said nothing more.

Just turned away—limping, hand pressed tightly to his side, blood dripping from every step.

---

Through the smoke and ruin, the forest returned to its haunting stillness.
From the treeline, Wilhelm stood, sword gleaming crimson in the fading light. Cultist corpses lay all around him, each felled with a single strike.

He didn’t speak. Just stared—quiet, searching.

Subaru walked forward, slow but certain.

Their eyes met.

Subaru gave a small nod.

“…It’s done. Yeah.”

The words had barely left Subaru’s lips when—
CRACK—CRUNCH—SSSHHH—

The sound wasn't footsteps.
It was a presence. One unforgettable at that. 

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed. His sword twitched in his hand.

From the tree line, something shimmered—then shattered.

And then, he was just there.

A man. Impossibly pristine.

A pale white suit, not a single wrinkle.
Not a spot of blood.
Shoes polished like mirrors.
And a face—boyish, smug, eternally annoyed.

He didn’t walk. He didn’t emerge.

He appeared.

Standing among the bloodied corpses as if he’d always been there, completely untouched by the carnage surrounding him.

Subaru's eyes shot open. Panic, realization- then confusion.

If this man...
If Regulus Corneas was here... then...

“Where is... Gojo-sensei...?”

Regulus chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver through the air. He raised a perfectly manicured hand, palm open.

“Why, he’s been reduced to a bloodied husk,” Regulus said smoothly, “in a desperate attempt to save the life of some little girl he’d never even met. It tugs at a soul as benevolent as mine to the core.”

His pale eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.

“Although Satoru Gojo may be dead, I’m sure he lives on in you...”

A grin twisted his lips—cold, predatory.

“Hence why I’m here. To remove that blight.”

Subaru’s eyes widened, heart pounding.

Wilhelm’s grip tightened on his sword, stepping forward like a shield.

“You…!!?”

Regulus tilted his head, amused.

“Ah... where are my manners—”

But before he could speak further, Subaru's voice cut sharply through the silence.

“Regulus Corneas... If it is the last thing I do...”

His gaze burned with iron resolve, voice low and steady.

“I will kill you.”

Notes:

I think this is the longest yet!

Chapter 16: The Blood of Greed.

Subaru didn’t realize it, but he had already started moving—mid-sprint, lunging toward Regulus with burning anger.

“Subaru!!”
Wilhelm roared, his arm reaching out desperately, grasping at thin air.

Regulus raised a brow, smirking coldly, utterly unfazed.

“HYYAAAHH!”
Subaru’s cursed-infused fist crashed forward, knuckles smashing into empty space—halting just inches from Regulus’s body.

Still, Regulus showed no sign of concern.

Undeterred, Subaru unleashed an endless flurry of strikes, each blow slicing through the air in a futile attempt to land on the immovable figure before him.

“If I weren’t such a benevolent soul, I would’ve slaughtered you both by now—especially you, boy,” Regulus sneered. “Throwing punches like some rabid dog? Have you no respect for my rights? My authority as a human being?”

“Shut your mouth!!” Subaru screamed, voice raw with fury.

Regulus’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with cold amusement.
“You truly believe brute force will change anything here? How quaint.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised a hand—palms open, fingers poised like a conductor commanding a symphony of destruction.

Subaru’s breath hitched, muscles tensing as he prepared for the inevitable.

Suddenly, the air around Regulus shimmered—an invisible force radiating outward, a suffocating pressure that slammed into Subaru’s chest, pushing him back several steps.

“You are nothing but noise to me,” Regulus said softly, voice laced with venom. “A fleeting disturbance. You cannot touch what refuses to be touched.”

Wilhelm stepped forward, blade drawn, eyes burning with urgency.
“Subaru, fall back!”

But Subaru shook his head, fury blazing in his eyes.
“No. This bastard's killed Gojo-Sensei!! I’ll break through anything—even you.”

With a roar, he surged forward again, fists crackling with cursed energy, striking faster, harder—each blow an explosion of raw will.

Regulus laughed—a cold, hollow sound that echoed in the stillness.

"Try your hardest."

---

Arlam Village...

The wife stepped forward, dagger gleaming, poised to strike the trembling orange-haired girl.

“…I’m sorry. We can’t stand against that man. He’s invincible.”

Petra’s muffled sobs filled the heavy air — until a voice shattered the silence.

“Ahhh... I’ve done it! Done it! DONE IT!!”

Every eye snapped toward the source, disbelief painted across faces that had just witnessed a man torn apart, left broken and bleeding like a corpse.

But there he was—Satoru Gojo—standing tall, wild-eyed and grinning like a man unhinged from reality.

“Reversed Cursed Technique... the true essence of Jujutsu!!” he shouted, arms thrown wide as laughter exploded from his throat—unhinged, raw, a sound that echoed with madness and victory.

“Gyahaha... ahahahahaha! HAH! HAHAHAHAA!!” His voice bounced off the village huts, wild as a storm.

The wife hesitated, dagger trembling, but Gojo was suddenly there—steps closing the distance in an instant, injuries healed but dried blood still marking his pale face look as if he were a ghost.

His cold, burning gaze locked onto her. His hand slammed down on her shoulder, a jarring contrast to his manic laughter.

“You... one of Regulus’s wives. You know his power, don’t you?”

The woman shivered beneath his grip.

Gojo’s eyes darkened to pearlescent voids of menace.
“Tell me. Or I will kill every last one of you.”

---

Wilhelm watched silently, knuckles white on his sword hilt. His fury matched Subaru’s—an unbearable outrage for Gojo’s proclaimed death—but unlike Subaru, Wilhelm’s restraint kept the hand on his blade poised, aware that offense against this Sin Archbishop was irrelivent—

Subaru’s breath came in ragged bursts, teeth clenched as each furious strike met nothing but air.

“Damn you, damn you, damn you!” he spat, muscles screaming against the void.

“It’s like teaching a mabeast magic. You will never learn.”

Regulus’s mocking voice cut through the chaos as his hand reached out slowly—like a serpent striking.

Subaru’s eyes widened. His cursed energy flared hot, burning bright as he leapt backward, creating space.

Then—

BOOOOOOM!

The earth beneath him exploded, a perfect circle erased at Regulus’s swipe, the shockwave roaring toward Subaru.

I’m going to die. Better this way… in the next loop, I’ll save Gojo—

SWOOSH—

But before the blast could consume him, something grabbed Subaru—an invisible force yanked him from the devastation, and in a blink, he was gone.

The trees shook as the wind screamed through the empty air where Subaru had stood.

“What...?” his voice barely more than a whisper, lost in the chaos.

Subaru’s body was ripped from the path of destruction—pulled back just in time.

His eyes snapped open, heart pounding wildly. The wind howled in his ears, leaves and dust swirling around him like a storm’s breath.

He barely had time to register the sensation of weightlessness before a pair of arms caught him—solid, unyielding, yet surprisingly gentle.

“Got you,” came Gojo’s voice, low and rough but threaded with that unmistakable wild grin.

Gojo’s white hair was tousled, his normally calm eyes blazing with a manic light—like a man who had danced with death and returned more dangerous than ever.

"You. How... how are you alive...!!?"
Regulus’s voice cracked with disbelief. The perfect calm he always wore—a mask of arrogant detachment—fractured as his eyes narrowed.
His lips trembled, his composure fraying out of shock and anger.

"How dare you?!"

Gojo tilted his head back—eyes wide with wild glee, lips splitting into a manic grin.
Then—
"Keh... gyahahahaAHA!!"

He burst into laughter. Unfiltered. Explosive. Unhinged.
A sound that cut through the silence like a blade. It wasn’t the refined, cocky laugh of the strongest sorcerer. It was madness. A man returned from the brink of death, grinning in the face of the impossible.

"S-Sensei...?"
Subaru's voice was quiet. Cautious. There was something different about Gojo now.

He turned slightly—just enough for Subaru to see the blood still dried on his face, his snow-white hair shadowing those glowing blue eyes.

"Oh... lemme tell ya then!!"
His voice lowered, tone trembling with restrained energy.
"I had... an EPIPHANY!"

He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist—energy swirling faintly around his knuckles.
"Reverse cursed technique, baby! Took every ounce of strength and focus I had. And just to make it interesting—"
He leaned forward, grin stretching wide.
"—I managed to add a little something extra to the mix. Dunno if it works yet, though!"

Regulus scoffed, disgusted.
"You’ve gone mad. Your brush with death has reduced you to babbling nonsense. You should’ve stayed dead. I—"

Too slow.

Gojo vanished.

CRACK-FWOOSH—!!

The sound of footsteps? Like rain against the ground. A thousand strikes in a second. The world blurred.

One blink—and Gojo was already there, closing the distance between them in a burst of pressure and speed that shook the earth.

His fist ignited with cursed energy, raw and untamed.

He didn’t wait for a response.
Didn’t posture.
Didn’t taunt.

Just struck—

FWOOM-!!

Dust roared upward in a geyser, chunks of stone and shattered earth flung into the air like paper in a gale. The impact of Gojo's punch wasn’t just loud—it was seismic. The shockwave tore through the village outskirts, flattening nearby trees in a perfect, expanding ring.

Regulus skidded across the broken ground, his body carving a trench as if a god had flung him from heaven.

And yet—he rose. Slowly. Utterly uninjured.

"You bastard!! Just your very existence is a disturbance to my rights!!" Regulus roared, his voice splitting the air like a bolt of lightning. "You dare violate my sanctity—my space—with those filthy, violent fists of yours?!"

Gojo tilted his head, that wild, unhinged smile still carved into his face like a curse etched in stone.

Regulus moved.

No warning. No words.

Just motion. Blinding, devastating motion.

Gojo’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking.

He's fast.

Faster than anything he’d faced in this world, barring one red-haired knight of course.

Regulus didn’t waste time—he twisted his wrist with a flick, and the very air answered. The dust kicked up from their battle froze midair— Not exploding outward, not dispersing— But roaring in a vertical line of perfect stillness.

A weapon made of deletion. A wave of evisceration.

SWISH—!!

Gojo moved backwards. His body vanished into a blur of impossible speed, slipping between layers of reality.

To Subaru, it looked like teleportation—an afterimage made solid.

Trees shattered in his wake as Gojo weaved, ducked, and crashed through trunks like cannonballs, zigzagging backward through the forest like a living missile.

Then— His heel crushed into the earth, sending cracks spiraling outward—

And with a roar of strength, he launched himself into the sky.

The forest beneath him was erased. Not burned. Not blasted.

Erased.

Dozens of meters of lush woodland were gone—a clean, gaping swath carved by Regulus’s authority.

From above, Gojo looked down—
And the world turned blue.

BOOM—!!

Gravity followed his will, blue pulling at his frame—turning him into a human meteor.

And he fell.

Fell right toward Regulus.

Regulus looked up—eyes widening.

Gojo's fist collided.
A ripple of nullified force tried to stop him—like punching against a god’s barrier.

But force met immovable will—and the earth screamed in protest.

CRRR-BOOM!!

The ground imploded, shattering like glass beneath the impact. Chunks of debris—meters wide—were flung skyward. Trees were launched. The surrounding forest lifted as if gravity had reversed for a moment.

Gojo rode the chaos.

He launched off chunks of flying debris like stepping stones, each step building momentum, the sound of each launch like thunder roaring.

Thoughts raced as fast as his body moved.

It’s true. The wives said he’s invincible. And it’s tied to them somehow... but they just wouldn’t give me more than that no matter what I did.

Inverted, upside down in the sky, Gojo stilled himself mid-air—Infinity halting all momentum.

He leveled his fingers like a pistol and aimed it toward the ground.

A crimson light burned into existence.

    “Reversal Red.”

The blast howled downward.

Not an explosion—an eruption. Reality buckled, the pressure alone forcing the ground downward into a deep crater as the forest sank. Trees, rocks, and soil were dragged into a gravitational pit as the Red imploded everything into forceful rejection.

A moment of silence as he landed.

Then Gojo exhaled.

Looked toward Subaru—mouth hanging open in awe.
Wilhelm, wide-eyed, sword slack in his hand.

Gojo just gave them a casual thumbs-up.

“You guys should probably get out of here—”

BAM- BAM- BOOM—!!

Another detonation to the side—a perfect, circular hole carved into the earth as Regulus emerged like a devil shot from hell. His face unmarked. Eyes boiling with rage.

He lunged—directly for Subaru.

Tch—this dirty bastard!!

Gojo's hands clapped together.

The air screamed.

SWISH-

Space twisted, collapsing and reassembling.

Gojo teleported—through sheer control of space itself.

CRACK—!

He caught Subaru mid-movement, ripping him out of the way just in time.

But Regulus struck.

Gojo raised his arms in a cross-guard.

The impact… didn’t feel like anything.

And that was the danger.

Gojo flew.

No force. No sensation. Just displacement—like the world had decided he shouldn’t be there anymore.

His body was hurled backward at unrelenting speed.

The mountain loomed.

CRRAAAACKK—!!

He crashed through it—body shredding stone, ribs cracking, blood smearing a jagged trail as he drilled through hundreds of feet of solid rock.

He emerged into a hidden cavern—shattered, smoking, dragging breath through teeth clenched with pain.

“…Tch.”

He wiped blood from his lips.

Then he laughed.
Low at first.

Then louder.
Unhinged. Beautiful. Alive.

“Gyahahaha… that all you got?!”
He cracked his neck. The broken bones snapped back into place, the blood and the cuts stitching shut and drying.

The cavern trembled.

Ancient stone groaned overhead as two forces—opposing concepts more than men—clashed beneath it.

Regulus charged. No theatrics this time. Just ruthless, explosive motion.

His foot slammed into the earth, and in a blink, the entire floor rippled, chunks of stone vaulting into the air like missiles.

But they didn’t arc, didn't waver or slow...

They rushed forward, blitzing across the cavern with no wind-up, no acceleration. Just sudden, violent existence.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

He moved.

A blink, a breath, a shift.

He stepped right—only to feel his arm vanish.

SHLKT—!!

His entire left arm disintegrated, from bicep to fingertip, cleanly erased where the edge of Regulus’s influence touched him.

Not cut. Not broken.

Gone.

Like it had never been there.

"Tch—!"

He twisted his body mid-dodge, kicking off a stalagmite and sending himself into a spiral, rock erupting around him with each attack unleashed by Regulus.

Blood sprayed in a thin red arc behind him as he landed, skidding across the cave floor.

Regulus didn’t stop.

He was already there.

Like time skipped.

A hand reached toward Gojo's exposed chest—two fingers extended, elegant and cold.

"You live in sin," Regulus murmured, "And I shall erase it—"

Gojo’s right hand snapped upward—barely missing the fingers—and a pulse of Blue detonated between them.

BOOOOM—!!!

It wasn't just cursed energy. It was gravity warped into fury—a vortex of compressed space-time that sucked both of them into a spiraling implosion before detonating outward like a cannon blast.

The cavern cracked—craters etched into the floor, columns collapsed, a massive stalactite shattered overhead and fell like a sword, impaling the rocks below.

Both combatants vanished into the smoke.

Then—

A red light pulsed through the haze.

A figure launched from the left—Gojo, flipping in midair with just one arm, his legs spinning before he thrust downward with a heel kick glowing faintly vermillion.

   “Reversal Red—”

CRACK—!!

Regulus hadn't a need to block it, thus, it struck him dead-on, the sheer recoil flinging him like a skipping stone across the cavern’s rock surface, gouging through two walls before coming to a stop.

Gojo landed hard, grinning like a lunatic.

"Guess what?" he said between shallow breaths, blood soaking his side.
"It'll take more than that to stop me this time around."
He raised the stump of his missing arm.

SWOOSH-

The limb returned—tendons writhing, muscle weaving together, skin sealing like stitching reversed.

Fully restored.

"That's not all I brought back with me EITHER," Gojo muttered, eyes locking on the darkness Regulus had vanished into.

He raised a hand.

Crackling. Pressure. The air buckled.

Regulus walked calmly from the rubble. He looked pristine. Untouched. His white suit unwrinkled.

"You are a blight. A disease. A distortion of order. I am law, and you are an insult to it."

The air screamed.

Dust and shattered stone swirled like a blizzard as Gojo Satoru launched himself forward once more, his form a blur of momentum and pressure. He vanished from one jagged ledge—reappeared midair far across the cavern—and slammed down on a distant rock pillar with enough force to crater its peak.

Regulus chased below, moving swiftly, half-shrouded in the darkness beneath.

Gojo was already gone again.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—!!

With every movement, he shattered the terrain—ricocheting off crumbling walls, bounding from fallen stalactites, each launch slinging him deeper into the labyrinthine cavern system, where ancient formations twisted like coiled serpents overhead.

This was more than a fight, it was a battle to decide fate, Gojo continued to move—in air, on walls, across ceilings—like physics itself had bent to accommodate their clash.

Gojo landed behind Regulus who'd been chasing-

His voice echoed in a whisper before the punch landed.

"Surprise."

FWOOM—!!

His fist struck true—but not the body.

Instead, it met that cursed stillness again. The moment froze, like time paused, and the energy of Gojo’s attack was reflected outward, the sheer force carving a perfect sphere out of the stone wall behind Regulus—like a god had punched a hole through the mountain.

Regulus didn’t even flinch, just remained firm, annoyed.

"You will never touch me," he growled. "Your strength is meaningless without justice."

Regulus blinked, just once.

Gojo's instincts screamed, neck twisting at the last possible moment. Behind him, a colossal mound of rock exploded—a jagged, crimson-stained gash tore through stone and flesh alike, a thin trickle of blood pooling from the side of his neck.

This is it.. The only chance.

Gojo’s mind raced, heart hammering against his ribs.

He's in it's range...

But just as quickly as it appeared, the wound vanished—skin knitting itself back with brutal speed.

Gojo stepped—not forward, but backwards, lowering himself into a tight crouch, fist poised near his hip.

I owe Kusakabe for this one, if I make it back alive...

He whispered under his breath.

Then—

   “Simple Domain.”

A sharp FWOOSH... ripped through the cavern air.

Cursed energy erupted from Gojo like a living cyclone, spiraling outward in every direction. Not a full domain expansion, but a condensed, razor-focused bubble barely two meters wide—enough to trap Regulus in it's midst.

This was the trap...

A binding vow.

An Eye for an Eye.
A Tooth for a Tooth.
Cursed Technique for Authority.

A covenant that would cut Regulus’s connection to his wives the instant he'd crossed the boundary of the Simple Domain—all at the cost of sacrificing Gojo’s own Limitless ability every time the barrier is activated. His eyes, his greatest advantage, temporarily darkened by this price.

Regulus sneered, raising a brow.
"Don’t you get it, fool? Nothing you do will work."

The air tensed.

One.

Two.

Gojo didn’t flinch.

"Let’s find out shall we?!"

He surged forward with a sudden sprint.

Three.

TAP.

Regulus’s boot struck the ground.

Instantly, cursed stillness erupted—shredding Gojo’s leg from knee to ankle, sending it flying like a severed limb.

But Gojo didn’t fall.

Instead, he twisted sharply midair, cursed energy flaring around his remaining limbs. His fist swung—fast, precise—but his knuckles met nothing but empty air mere inches from Regulus’s chest.

The archbishop’s eyes narrowed.
"Predictable."

Four.

Regulus’s arm rose, a sweep cutting sideways—air didn’t move, it vanished.

Five.

Then came the recoil. Regulus froze—body locking up, breath caught mid-chest.

Then—

“GRAAAAHH—!!?”

He keeled forward, hands clutching his stomach, retching as agony exploded through his nerves. His Authority—once absolute—fractured under pressure.

Why?!
Why could he feel pain—feel his own heartbeat—why was his invincibility gone?!

Gojo’s eyes lit up, a wild grin spreading across his face.
He didn’t hesitate.

He ran—no, rocketed forward, cursed energy surging, his severed leg regenerating mid-sprint, muscles twisting and snapping into place like coiled ropes rebinding themselves.

Now's my chance.

No Limitless. No Six-Eyes. He was bare bones—raw instinct and cursed energy.

Although that meant he too would be weakened massively during this duration, it was still enough.

CRACK—!!

Gojo’s knuckles rammed into Regulus’s gut like a hammer, the impact sending a shockwave deep through the earth. Regulus choked, blood spurting from his lips as he stumbled backward—

Gojo followed.

SWISH—THUD!
A sharp jab to the ribs.
SWOOSH—BOOM!
A pivot, then a heavy right hook across Regulus’s jaw. Blood sprayed.

Every hit landed. Every strike counted.

But the timer was ticking.
Five seconds. Five heartbeats. And the window was closing.

Gojo swung again—this time, the resistance was off. Something was wrong.
The punch hit—but it didn’t connect.

His eyes widened.
“—!?”

Regulus took a single step.

TAP.

The ground splintered—jagged, glass-like lines shot across the cavern floor and walls like a spiderweb of cursed chaos.

CRACK—!

The Simple Domain shattered.

Gojo recoiled—but it was too late.

Regulus raised both hands—

CLAP.

The sound ripped through the world. The cavern’s structure imploded, air pressure detonating outward in a spiraling, obliterating burst. Rock and earth contorted like paper under the pressure.

Gojo was launched.

His body flung like a ragdoll through the fractured tunnel, both arms eviscerated, muscle torn to ribbons, bone splintered and exposed.

He landed hard—skidding over cracked stone outside the cave’s mouth, broken earth groaning beneath his weight.

Blood stained the ground. His body twitching in pain.
But then—he moved.

Cursed energy surged. The ruined limb healed with unnatural speed, veins surging like lightning beneath his skin.

But his eyes narrowed.
He got it back. Somehow. Even without the wives, he can use it again—so there’s a time limit… or a reset mechanism…?

SWISH—!

A leg scythed through the air—Gojo leapt backward, barely avoiding annihilation.

The area behind him ceased to exist. It wasn’t blown up—it was erased.

“What the hell are you...?!”
Regulus emerged from the collapsing ruins, his once-pristine appearance now a mess of bruises, blood, and rage. Each step carried with it a shockwave. Each gesture, a natural disaster.

Gojo gritted his teeth, body weaving—dodging.

He moved like lightning, but even he couldn’t evade forever. A cut opened on his cheek. A slice nicked his thigh. A bone shattered. Then another.

The ground around them was no longer ground—it was warped, uneven, cratered, an arena of entropy. The battlefield had lowered by meters, carved out by the pressure of their godlike clash.

"HOW, HOW, HOWHOWHOWHOOOW?!!"

Regulus screamed, voice crackling like a broken speaker in a thunderstorm. Each word convulsed with fury—each step warped the ground beneath his feet, rage bleeding from every motion.

Gojo grimaced.

SHLK—!!

His vision in one eye vanished as a slice of stillness clipped the side of his face, sending his ear spinning through the air like a torn petal in a thunderstorm.

He landed hard.

CRACK—!!

A savage sweep of Gojo’s leg tore through the earth, ripping boulders skyward in a violent arc—stone rain filling the cavern like a collapsing meteor field.

"You fool!"
Regulus roared, a demonic echo bouncing through the cave walls.

This was his domain. This was where his Authority truly sang.

With two flicks of his wrist—
FWOOOM—KRAAAK—!!

A pressureless gale shredded the airborne stone to sand, and a second sweep vaporized the very space behind it.

STEP—

Regulus twitched, Gojo was behind him.

His head snapped back.

An index finger hovered before his face—red, glowing, buzzing with reality-breaking force.

   "Red."

The word left Gojo’s lips like a gunshot.

KAAA-BOOOM—!!!

The detonation erased everything—the ground beneath Regulus gone in an instant, blown to oblivion by pure cursed force.

Yet he simply... floated.

Hovering, unmoved, untouched.

Red hovered inches from his face—suspended in dead air, caught in the stillness of his Authority.

Gojo scoffed, vaulting upward—his lunge taking him several meters high, twisting in the air, arm cocked back.

“If you don’t tell me what you are—how you did what you did—I’ll tear off every limb you’ve got—over, and over, and over again, YOU HEAR ME?!”

Regulus’s face twitched in a grimace—and then, slowly, deliberately—

He grabbed the Red.

Gojo froze.
His eyes widened.

“...What?”

Regulus’s fingers wrapped around the orb of energy—and swiped it to the side.

Then, without ceremony—he threw it.

The same Red. But in his hand, it wasn’t a repelling blast.

It was pure erasure.

BOOOOOOM—!!!

It tore through Gojo’s chest like divine judgment, punching a crater through the battlefield, vaporizing trees and carving a path of ruin deep into the horizon.

Gojo vomited blood, body staggering backward—hand clutching his center as crimson poured between his fingers.

“Ghhh... ahh—fuck...”

His heart thudded wildly.

The Reverse Cursed Technique surged—organs knitting, bones twisting, sinew reweaving into place.

But Regulus wasn’t done.

He raised his hand—gripped air—and twisted.

The space bent to his will, forming a jagged, elongated weapon of wind. A javelin shaped by authority.

Then—he hurled it.

“WOOMPH—!?”

Gojo gasped, back arcing—his spine bending so far back his head nearly kissed the stars.
The javelin screamed overhead, cleaving apart the space overhead.

Then—

A silhouette, a shadow.

Regulus appeared mid-air—his fist pulled back, body descending like a guillotine.

CRACK—!!!

He slammed into Gojo’s chest, cratering the rock beneath them.

“TELL ME—HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE AUTHORITY OF GREED?!”

He punched.

BOOM!
Another.
CRACK!
Again.
BAM!
The ground fractured deeper.
THUD!
Each impact a tremor. Each echo deafening.

BOOM!

THUD!

CRACK!

BOOM!

THUD-
BAM-CRACK-THUD!!

Gojo said nothing.

Regulus paused.

He leaned back, blinking in half-awe, half-rage as he watched Gojo’s wounds knit themselves together again.

“You... you’re not a human.”

It wasn’t a question.

He glanced toward the horizon—toward the eviscerated forest, the annihilated landscape.

“That’s the only explanation. That’s the only answer that makes sense. You’re some kind of... monstrosity. Well of course, that's only natural you'd be..”

He turned back, glaring down at Gojo.

“But that still doesn’t tell me—”

Then he saw it.

Gojo’s mouth, agape. The sphere already formed before his face.

   Red.

BOOOOM—!!

The blast consumed Regulus point-blank, hurling him backward in a cyclonic red hurricane.

Gojo's chest heaved as he laid flat on his back, eyes narrowed.

“Ugh... fuck... that hurt...”

He stared at his hands. At his limits.

Then he clasped them together.
A familiar motion. A last resort.

VWOOSH-!

And in a blink—

He was gone.

Not cowardice.

Tactical retreat.

This wasn’t a fight he could win. Not yet atleast.

But he survived.

Notes:

I wanted to make it different than the last light, I'm aware that what I did to make Gojo be able to hurt Regulus may or may not be plausible, but I considered it the most realistic thing that could atleast make sense.

Chapter 17: The Untouchable and The Unstoppable.

Subaru was shocked, to say the least, when Gojo showed back up.

He stood there—unharmed, technically—but it didn’t take a genius to tell he'd been through hell. His clothes were torn to ribbons, stained with blood long dried. Even if his injuries had healed, the aftermath clung to him like smoke after a blaze.

Of course, Subaru had no intention of dying. And neither did Wilhelm.

The two had already begun sprinting through the decimated forest, now reduced to a dead-flat graveyard of trees and ruptured earth.

Gojo will be alright... he’ll be fine.
Even if he was acting off, even if something about him felt different... he was still Satoru freaking Gojo.

Subaru’s brows furrowed, his cursed energy reinforcing his legs and core with each step—boosting speed.

Beside him, Wilhelm kept pace, cloak billowing behind him like a war banner.
He glanced sideways, voice sharp and composed.

“As we saw back there, Satoru is a man full of surprises. Even the Archbishop thought him dead. He’ll survive, Subaru.”

Subaru exhaled a half-laugh, half-sigh, nerves unraveling only a bit.
"Yeah... you're right."

The two men burst through the village gates—and were met with confusion, panic, and the sound of villagers murmuring in fear. Dozens of soldiers stood scattered across the square, with Felix at the center of it all.

What happened here...?
Was I wrong about the timing?
..Did the Cult already make a move before we showed up?!

Subaru skidded to a halt in front of Ferris.

“What happened here?!”

Felix turned, ears twitching.

“Ah, Subaru! Well, by the time we got here, the villagers were all tied up. Said a man showed up—claimed he was a Sin Archbishop.. as you said.”

Not Petelgeuse. Definitely not... then it had to be Regulus.
How long ago did he get here?! How far ahead was he than what I thought?!

Before he could answer, a voice called out..

“S-Subaru!”

A small figure ran toward him—orange-haired, red-bowed, face stained with dried tears.

“Petra...!”

“I-It was really scary... but that white-haired mister saved me... is he okay? I... I want to thank him...”

Subaru knelt down, placing a gentle hand on her head and ruffling her hair.

“Gojo-sensei’s fine, I promise. He’ll be back soon—you’ll get to thank him yourself.”

Hopefully...

Thanks to Rem’s warning letter, the mansion had already been evacuated. With Subaru’s confirmation that this was indeed the Witch’s Cult at work, the villagers began preparations to flee—loading carriages with help from Felix and Wilhelm.

Subaru stood with hands on his hips, staring toward the forest where the booming impacts and subtle bursts of cursed energy were occupying.

Gojo and Regulus's battle’s gone quiet... too quiet.

“Mmm...”

Then—
A hand landed on his shoulder.

“GYAHHH!!”

He jumped—spinning on reflex, hand raised.

“G-Gojo-sensei?!”

There he stood.

“Yo.”
Gojo gave a casual wave, half-grin forming on his bruised, dirt-streaked face.

“You’re... alright?”

Subaru raised a brow. Technically, Gojo looked fine. But with his shirt nearly vaporized at the torso, sleeves torn, and dried blood marking where flesh had once been open wounds—it was clear just how not fine he’d been.

Gojo shrugged.

“Well, I’m good now. But I don’t even wanna guess how many of my limbs got blown off back there. If you go digging through the rubble, you’ll probably find, like... twenty arms and legs..”

He chuckled—then stopped.

His head turned toward the trees—eyes sharpening, gaze narrowing.

“...There are a lot of unfamiliar presences in the forest by the way.”

Subaru blinked, turning to follow his line of sight.

Then he froze.

Overhead, a massive purple hand burst from the treetops—fingers clenched into a fist as it soared upward before coming down like a meteor.

“S-SHIT! EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

It wasn’t visible to anybody except Subaru. But Gojo didn’t need to see it.

He could feel it—space itself was wrong. Warped. Twisted.

The Unseen Hand of Sloth.

With a calm motion, Gojo lifted his palm—his fingers forming a slight curve upward.

VVRRRRRRMM—

A glimmering blue orb shimmered into existence above him—crackling as it absorbed the Unseen Hand in an instant, swallowing its presence like it had never existed.

The cursed air fell still.

The forest, for now, was silent again.

Gojo grinned, lowering his hand before swinging it casually over Subaru’s shoulder.

“Safe! Heh, what would you do without me, huh?”

Subaru exhaled slowly, looking away with a muttered grumble.

“...You’ve got a point this time, so I’ll let it slide.”

Gojo stepped back, the humor in his expression dimming slightly.

“Though, on a more serious note... I don’t think my little spat with Regulus is over.”

His voice dropped—just a bit.

“I’ve probably pissed him off so badly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already on his way here.”

“H-HERE?!”
Subaru’s eyes went wide.

“Dude!! Not all of us are walking anime cheat codes who can regenerate! If any of us normal people get hit by one of his freaky-ass Authority attacks, we’re just dead!”

Gojo smirked, raising an index finger like he was about to give a lecture.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m gonna stall him—while you deal with whatever else is lurking out there in the trees.”

He jerked a thumb toward the woods.

“Honestly? I think I’ve got maybe an hour of stalling in me. Maybe. If I get sliced in half at the waist, though... that’s game over.”

Subaru blinked, face paling.

“Wait, isn’t that what ‘Reverse Cursed Technique’ is for?”

Gojo gave him a cheeky smile.

“Ooh~ someone’s been paying attention in class! Yes—normally it’d work fine. But if I’m split in two...”
He gestured with both hands, miming a body tearing apart.
“...then the cursed energy can’t travel from my core to the injury. Because, well... I’d be in two pieces.”

Subaru stared at him for a beat.

“That is... the biggest red flag I’ve ever heard.”

Gojo laughed, brushing it off with a grin.

“Hey, I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? What’s a bit more stalling?”

Subaru sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Right... right. Just don’t die, alright?”

Gojo clapped his hands together, stepping backward as the air distorted around him.

“Ciao~!”

In a flicker of refracted space, he vanished—leaving only a gust of wind behind.

---

Regulus stormed through the ravaged forest, each step a silent declaration of dominance. But no matter how heavy his footfalls—how absolute his presence—the ground refused to shatter beneath him.

Because he hadn’t allowed it to.

STEP—

A low, sharp hiss cut through the air—

SWOOSH— THUD!!

A deafening impact cracked against his side. In an instant, Regulus's body was sent skyward, ripped from the earth by raw, unfiltered power. The shockwave shattered trees for dozens of meters. The terrain buckled as both combatants were launched into open air.

From the epicenter, Satoru Gojo emerged like a missile.

"You—! You foolish, insignificant worm!" Regulus snarled mid-flight, his body halting as though caught on an invisible axis. One moment, momentum.. the next nanosecond, absolute stillness—his Authority bending reality to his will.

"You should've known it was impossible to defeat me— And yet, here you are, charging back in like a fool!"

The sun dimmed—no, vanished. A silhouette blotted out the sky overhead, growing larger and larger-

Gojo, upside-down mid-air, body twisting like a hurricane of white and blue, plummeted.

His fist screamed through the atmosphere—

BOOOOM!!!

It landed clean against Regulus’s ribs. The impact was like a cannon forged from gravity and emotion. A thunderclap erupted across the horizon—shattering the air, reducing nearby cliffs to falling dust. A wave of force flattened the surrounding forest into a craterized ruin.

Regulus was launched—his body sent careening through rock and trees like a divine wrecking ball, carving a trench hundreds of meters long.

“You return to me again. Have you grown bored of living, Satoru Gojo? Or do you find yourself enjoying the pain!?”

Gojo stood slowly, dust curling off his shoulders. His mouth twisted into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nah. Just figured I’d make this a little more personal.”

Gojo flickered, the world bending with his velocity—space folding in tight as he drove another strike toward Regulus’s side.

THUD—!

The blow halted—mere inches from landing. Time itself seemed to lock.. a piece of air, unnaturally still, hovered like a phantom wall.

Regulus flicked two fingers across.

Gojo’s pupils shrank.

“—!!”

He vanished sideways, instincts screaming. A heartbeat later, the stilled air shifted—no longer static, but a merciless guillotine of invisible force. The world howled.

His right arm was gone—again—ripped clean from the shoulder down, red mist left in its wake.

But Gojo didn’t even flinch.

He was used to this now.

His foot twisted- a step turned into a dash, and in a blink, he was behind Regulus—body contorting mid-air into a sharp axe kick, crashing downward like a cleaving crescent moon.

CRACK—!

A tremor quaked through the battlefield as Gojo’s heel impacted—

But Regulus didn’t budge. Not even a grunt. His coat fluttered slightly from the force.

“Tch.”
Gojo's eyes narrowed.

Regulus pivoted, fist cocked back—

Not this time..!

Gojo read it before it even finished forming. He dipped low, body curving like a serpent as the stillness-charged punch exploded past him—splitting the air like divine judgement itself.

WHOOM—!

He slid under, boots carving a furrow into the rocky terrain, just as Regulus’s hand snapped open—then swung like a guillotine toward where Gojo moved.

SWOOSH—

A flash of invisible annihilation roared through the air.

Gojo bent backward—his spine arched like a perfect bridge, the attack slicing through mere inches above him.

Then—

FWOOOSH—!

A searing gust of stillness grazed across his stomach and chest, carving into skin and muscle before it screamed upward into the sky, leaving a jagged scar in the clouds themselves.

He landed in a crouch, breath sharp—

Blood trickled down his chest.

Regulus floated mid-air, unmoving—his coat whipping violently, caught in the turbulent winds Gojo left behind.

His lips peeled back, revealing clenched teeth.

"You… insolent insect."

The air vibrated.

BOOM—!

Regulus didn't step.

He exploded forward, a blur of divine motion, fist first—his body a meteor in human form. The terrain cracked before he even landed.

Gojo threw his arms up, cursed energy flaring like natural instinct.

CLANG—!!

The first punch landed like a god’s hammer. The impact ruptured the air, Gojo’s arms CRACKING under the pressure. He was launched backward—tumbling through trees, through stone, the stillness affecting his own body, and in turn leaving his infinity useless as he's flung through trees and rock.

He barely managed to right himself in midair—

But he was too slow.

Regulus was already there.

A palm caught Gojo's face and shoved—dragging him across the ground like a missile, pulverizing rock and dirt in their wake.

"I have tolerated your disrespect long enough!"

Gojo’s body spun out as the force stopped, but he didn’t crash—he rolled midair, cursed energy buffering his descent. Blood streaked down his jaw and forehead as opened wounds were stitching shut.

"Ugh... Hit a nerve, huh?"

Regulus roared—and for the first time, there was no elegance, no controlled malice.

Just sheer hatred.

Both his arms swung wide, carving the air in an X—

SWOOSH—SWOOSH—!!

Twin arcs of stillness screamed outward, the forest folding in on itself in response.

"Urk- you gotta be-!?"
Gojo ducked one—then twisted sideways, the second passing so close it shaved strands of white from his hair.

He landed hard, knees grinding through cracked stone.

His breathing hitched in pain.

Regulus charged.

“Let’s see how you fair when your reduced to a gaping mess of exposed flesh, shall we?!"

BOOM—!

Regulus was on him again. Another strike.

Gojo blocked with his forearm—CRACK—an attempt of nullifying the impact with his cursed energy. But the shock still shot down his spine. Both arms shattered, bone pulverized.

Another blow came from the side.

He ducked—too slow however.

CRACK—!!

A rib snapped- the stillness—BLASTING—a hole through his side and ribcage, emerging entirely through the other end.

Gojo vomited blood, grin faltering as he remained on the defensive.

He backflipped as his bones mended, palm hitting the ground—and in that instant, Blue detonated beneath Regulus’s feet, launching the Archbishop skyward and following suit like a homing missile before surging closer to Satoru.

Gojo sprang up to meet him midair—Red already igniting in his opposite hand.

He shouted, slamming it forward—

   “Imaginary Technique, Purple—”

But Regulus moved just as fast, hand slicing downward—stillness crashing through the air like divine judgement.

The two forces collided, stillness—SPLIT—the purple in half and flew toward Gojo.

KRAKOOM—!!!

A shockwave annihilated the nearby forest—grass, trees. Everything was devastated.

Gojo hit the ground in a heap, limb missing, shoulder torn asunder.

He groaned, rising slowly.

“…Okay… stalling really hurts..”

Regulus landed like a god returning to earth, fists trembling in fury.

"You aren't even worthy of being my enemy… so why. won’t. you. DIE?!"

BOOM—!

The shock of Regulus hitting the ground sent tremors spiraling outward, splitting the forest floor open like paper. Trees buckled, earth ruptured, and a distant rumble echoed low through the region beyond.

Gojo landed in a low crouch atop a jagged boulder, one eye narrowed, tracking the upheaval below.

Then—CRACK—a seam beneath Regulus’s body split, a massive fissure forming in the already weakened terrain.

A colossal ravine had formed.

A towering ridge of stone, trees, and mist now loomed at the forest’s edge—a newly formed precipice. The weight of their clash had dragged them here without either intending it.

And the surface gave way.

KRRAAAKKK—!!

The entire section of cliff beneath Regulus crumbled inwards. Rock split from rock, massive shelves of stone peeling away and tumbling into the foggy chasm below.

Regulus didn’t fall—he stood midair, feet flat upon nothing, still glaring upward.

Gojo exhaled sharply, blood dribbling from his mouth as he pushed himself back up.

"What the hell-?!" he muttered, stepping forward—but the ledge he was on snapped. With a sharp drop of his stomach, Gojo began to fall—and a silver streak surged from the sky to meet him.

CRACK—!!

Regulus tackled him midair, their bodies clashing in freefall. Gojo twisted, placing his foot on Regulus’s chest to kick off, only for the Archbishop’s hand to seize his ankle.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side long enough!!”

The wind shrieked like a banshee around them, and the world spun as Regulus drove Gojo’s body against the cliff face—stillness surging from every inch of him, turning their descent into something far worse than freefall.

KRSSH—!!

Gojo’s body screeched along the stone, chunks of skin and fabric shredded away, one eye burst by the sheer pressure as his body gouged a trench into the cliffside.

Blood sprayed like a fountain.

They just fell too quick for it to be noticeable.

“GuhHHRK—!”

But pain was old news to Gojo. He twisted an arm free, seized a jagged rock, and smashed it into Regulus’s temple with a CRACK! that echoed across the gorge.

The grip loosened, not from Regulus feeling pain of course, but surprise.

Infinity returned—and Gojo grabbed Regulus by the collar mid-fall and hurled him like a meteor into the opposite wall of the ravine.

THWOOOOM—!

Regulus’s body carved his own path of destruction, stone exploding around him, cliffside shattering like glass under artillery fire.

But he was already retaliating.

FWOOSH—!!

The very terrain became Regulus's weapon. Hundreds of dislodged boulders twisted in the air like arrows, zeroing in on Gojo.

He vaulted upward, planting both feet against the wall, then kicked off with enough force to crater the wall behind him.

CRACK—!!!

Where he had been was instantly obliterated by the swarm of debris, the impact trembling the area and causing a maelstrom of stone and chaos that fell like judgment from the ravine's entrance.

But Gojo was ready.

Hovering, hand raised—
Cursed energy bloomed.

Maximum Output: Blue..

SHHHHKRROOOM—!!

The debris reversed direction in an instant, every boulder sucked backward in a violent pull. They slammed into Regulus midair, an endless storm of chaos battering him from every angle.

But the Archbishop didn’t scream.

He inhaled.

Gojo then raised his arm, pointing his hand forward—

Red.

A sphere of crimson hatred formed in his hand. Smaller than usual. But denser. more vicious.

Red..

Red...

RED—!!

Then it was unleashed.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM—!!

The ravine imploded.

A pillar of annihilation erupted skyward, blasting trees and stone into the heavens. The sides of the cliff shattered, raining debris for miles on end, the shockwave flattening entire tracts of the forest.

---

Meanwhile—

Subaru knelt beside the body of the defeated cultist. His brows furrowed.

“A Finger…? So they really were just fragments of Petelgeuse?”

Ferris looked pale, Wilhelm remained silent—sheathing his sword with a quiet, cold finality.

"If they're just clones..." Wilhelm muttered, eyes narrowing. "Then- where's the real one? Could he… still be alive?"

Before anyone could answer—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The explosion in the distance rocked the very soil they stood upon. Birds scattered. Trees bent from the blast. A column of smoke and color rose from in the distance.

Subaru’s eyes widened.

“That’s… Gojo-Sensei?!”

Ferris turned to face the blast, his expression shocked.

“That level of power... there’s only one guy I know who could pull off crap like that.”

Subaru remained silent, his brows furrowing more and more.
"Please be alright..."

---

Silence...

For a moment, the only sound was the deep, seismic groan of the region reacting to what just happened.

Then—
CRASH—!!

A boulder the size of a building came down like divine retribution, smashing into the ravine floor with enough force to send shockwaves rolling up the walls. Dust clouds exploded outward, blotting out the sky, turning everything a muddy, crimson haze.

Somewhere within that chaos—
Gojo’s body shot out sideways, tumbling through the air like a misfired arrow.

Blood trailed behind him, his shirt gone, skin tattered, one arm dangling limp, ribs clearly shattered. But his eye—

His one good eye still gleamed, other mending as fast as possible.

“Haaaahhh... You’re still standing after that? I get your basically immortal but damn it..."

Below him, Regulus stirred.

His face twitched—not in pain, but in absolute, incomprehensible rage. The Red had caught him dead-on, and although he was physically unscathed, the anger was constantly surging.

Chunks of stone burned away from where his body had carved a path through the cliff wall.

But even so—
He hovered. Unbothered by gravity. By logic. By anything other than his own impossible ego.

“You, don't you get it..?! Now that I know of your strange little trick that somehow messes with my authority, there's truly NOTHING you can do to harm me, my perfection- this goes far beyond disrespect, the only thing that warrants such behavior is YOUR DEATH."

BOOM—!!

He vanished, and in the same instant, Gojo’s head snapped back as a devastating punch caught him midair, sending him rocketing into a spire of broken cliffside.

CRACK—!!!

Gojo’s body cracked through the stone, the impact splitting the rock in half and burying him under an avalanche of debris.

Regulus descended slowly, hovering above the ruined floor of the ravine like a ghost made of fury.

“You don’t understand the depth of your crime, Satoru Gojo. You don’t get to scar ME and walk away... You. Are. NOTHING before me, I am PERFECTION, I am BENEVOLENCE!"

KRA-KOOOM—!!

He swiped his arm, and a section of the canyon wall—a literal piece of the planet—froze midair. The space itself stopped obeying physics. Time paused.

Then it all collapsed inward.

A singularity, a compressed mass of destruction, was hurled toward the pile of rubble where Gojo had landed.

Regulus swung the floating debris like a titanic whip—shape akin to a sword, boulders the size of buildings, chained together by frozen space and authority. Every arc, every swing cleaved the ravine wider, shattered cliffs collapsing into a rain of stone death.

"This world bends to my will—!!"

He roared, and with a flick, a twisting chunk of cliff spiraled downward, tearing apart what little stability remained.

Gojo blurred through space—SWOOSH!!—appearing at Regulus's exposed flank, foot snapping forward like a cannon shell. His heel connected to spine—

THUD-!

The impact sent them both hurtling, bodies crashing through stone as if it were paper.

Fist to palm. Cursed energy surged.

"Simple Domain—"

CRACK—!!

It shattered on formation.

Like glass under pressure, the technique fractured instantly—shimmering shards of blue dispersed into the air. In the same instant, deep gashes sliced across Gojo’s chest, arms, and face. Thin lines at first—then deeper, flesh-parting slashes that sprayed blood mid-air.

He leapt back, catching himself on one of the many falling debris.

Gojo breathed sharply through gritted teeth, shirt hanging in shreds, his reverse cursed technique already working overtime, glowing faintly as it stitched muscle and bone.

But even now—he constant hits, the spatial distortions Regulus inflicted, the stress—it was reaching a point where it was becoming harder to heal everything instantly.

“Tch—!! Damn it…!”

"How many times," Regulus began, voice as cold as ice, eyes blazing with indignant fury,
"Must I knock it into that overly persistent, yet so very foolish brain of yours—"

He took a single step forward, and the ground beneath Gojo collapsed—spatial law ceased, no support, just void.

Gojo dropped, twisted in the air, cursed energy buffering the fall—

“NOTHING you do will work!”

Regulus raised his arm.

Chunks of falling ravine debris froze, mid-collapse—
And then, all at once—

SHLUNK–SHLUNK–SHLUNK—!!

They speared downward like stakes of a god’s wrath, pinning through where Gojo dodged just in time. Even still, one rock grazed his leg—ripping away a massive chunk of flesh from thigh to hip.

He hissed, reappearing high in the air with a blink, only to clutch at the wound as blood sprayed freely.

It’s too fast. He’s adapting. He’s not just reacting—he’s learning my timings. My attacks— Even outpacing my regeneration at moments.

Down below, Regulus lifted both arms—space warped again. The world trembled.

“I am UNTOUCHABLE!”

“I am DIVINE!!”

“Therefore—consider this DIVINE RETRIBUTION, Satoru Gojo!!”

He clapped his hands together, and reality cracked—a wave of stopped time cut through the cliff wall, erasing the terrain like a guillotine of frozen causality.

Gojo tried to move away, but—

SLICE—!!

His side was ripped open, a wound so clean it looked surgically made. He grunted, falling, blood trailing like ribbons.

He landed—barely—atop a slanted slab of falling debris, legs shaking beneath the stress, body bloodied but healing fast, threads of flesh pulling together with visible pulses of cursed energy.

Across from him, Regulus dropped in tandem, feet silent as they found perch atop another tumbling boulder. The chaos of the imploding ravine around them became distant noise, swallowed by the presence of two monsters moving faster than nature could process.

STEP—

Two steps.
Only one sound.

Everything stopped.
The rocks.
The wind.

Only Satoru Gojo and Regulus Corneas moved.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus's hook sliced sideways through space—an elegant, casual motion, yet powerful enough to destroy anything. It tore a shimmering line through the air, clipping strands of Gojo’s hair as he ducked, spine curving low, fluid.

Gojo surged forward.

His fists blurred—jab, elbow, uppercut, twist into a hook—all within a fraction of a second. The impacts would have shattered a lesser being, each blow crashing against Regulus’s body with supernatural precision.

WHAM—THUD—BAM—CRACK—!!

Gojo weaved through invisible gaps, spinning around another strike thrown, planting his foot and driving a knee into Regulus’s midsection, followed instantly by an open-palm strike to the chin.

That should’ve shattered his jaw.

That should’ve broken ribs.

But it didn’t.

Every perfect strike landed on something that refused to be touched. Space refused to acknowledge contact. Regulus didn’t dodge—he didn’t have to.

And he smiled.

“Your speed is impressive, Gojo Satoru—truly, you shine among insects.”

He raised a hand.

SWIPE—!!

A single flick of his fingers sent a cleave of spatial stillness forward—a blade with no edge, yet its sharpness was impossible. Gojo barely phased out, his shoulder grazed—and gouged, flesh vanishing like it was downright erased.

He reappeared behind Regulus, foot sweeping low—too late. 

Gojo’s foot twisted.

In an instant, he was no longer there—vaulting sideways in a spiraling sidestep that defied gravity itself. His Infinity flickered, blurring with cursed energy as a gust of still air—a soundless hurricane—erased the boulder he had just stood upon.

But not fast enough to completely evade.

CHUNK—!!

A searing shock up his side—left torso sheared open, left arm gone once more. Blood trailed in an arc across the air like a falling ribbon.

And then—

WHUM-!!

A monstrous fist tore through the space overhead. Regulus’s hand, still lazily posed, carried enough force to detonate anything.

Gojo bent backward, the blow kissing the air where his skull had just been. He spun with the momentum, body warping in mid-air like a slingshot and sliding up the side of another jagged slab of debris that had yet to fall.

He landed on a higher ledge—barely upright.

Gojo could feel everything in his current state of focus.

The heat rising from the still terrain.
The scent of crushed stone and his own blood.
The breath of the world as it held itself in anticipation.
And Regulus—

Regulus didn’t breathe.

Not because he was calm. Not because he was hiding.
Because he was still.
Because nothing about him was alive in the way Gojo understood life.

His eyes narrowed, every cell in his brain on fire with analysis.
The tremble of still air. The pulse of spatial collapse.

Then—

TWIST—!! CRASH—!!!

Too late.

Stillness lashed forward, invisible and instant.
His right arm exploded, vaporized at the elbow.

He gritted his teeth.

Left arm? Still only halfway grown.
Torso? Bleeding internally.

With a desperate lean, Gojo threw himself backward, skidding against a new falling rock—this one floating mid-air, the terrain itself warped by the aftermath of cursed collisions. The dust in the air glowed faintly red, resonating with lingering traces of Maximum Output.

His arm and leg reformed.

Flesh knitted. Tendons reattached. Bone snapped and aligned.

THUD—!!

Gojo stomped, launching himself forward like a bullet fired from a cursed railgun.
His head tilted mid-flight—STILLNESS—hissed by, slicing across the edge of his face like an invisible razor.

SWOOSH—!!

He was already moving.
Already inside Regulus’s guard.
A blur of white hair and bloodied silk slicing across the debris-strewn battlefield.

His technique is brute force.
His footwork’s slow, telegraphed... Sloppy.
He’s never had to fight anyone who could actually dodge him.

Bu Gojo was not anyone.

Even if he’s pretty much unstoppable… and very fast.. he's easier to read when up close.

He slid around a punch—barely—the stilled wind tearing a shallow gash along his shoulder and back.

And then—he turned.

A pivot. A twist. A perfect read.

One arm reached out, thrusting toward Regulus’s neck, the other snaked beneath his shoulder—a fluid motion, almost casual.

A cursed lariat.

Black electricity began to coil, shimmering—crackling—

   “BLACK FLASH—!!”

CRACK-BOOOM—!!!!

The explosion of force rippled through the ravine like a cursequake. A shockwave of pure cursed precision detonated across Regulus’s midsection as Gojo’s cursed energy collapsed space and time into a single point of impact.

Regulus’s body was hurled—not by pain, not by force—but by the sheer physics-defying pressure.
He was launched, spinning violently, carving a tunnel through stone with his body like a human comet.

Dozens of meters. Wall after wall. Until finally—

THUD—!!

Regulus embedded into a cliffside.

The ravine trembled from the residual energy, rocks shifting like frightened animals beneath a storm.

Gojo stood amidst the chaos, chest heaving, blood still dripping from wounds yet healed.

From within the hole—Regulus's voice slithered out.

“That one was a little different, wasnt it..? Yet still, it matters not to someone like me, clearly.”

SWOOSH—

Time resumed.

The falling rocks, once frozen in the grip of their clash, resumed their descent—crashing against the sides of the ravine far below, like distant drums heralding calamity.

Gojo stood tall atop a jagged, shard of stone etched into the ravine's side.
Blood stained his garments. His breath, sharp but controlled.

Regulus lingered halfway embedded in the opposite cliff wall, arms relaxed at his side, golden eyes glowing beneath dust and divine arrogance.

Between them- distance. Silence. Stillness.

Gold met Blue.

A standoff. Not out of fear. Not out of fatigue.

Just how much longer can I keep this up…?

The thought barely brushed Gojo’s mind. He didn’t let it linger.
But it was there, heavy and honest.

He could stall. He could dodge. He could counter.

But none of it mattered.

One misstep.

A cut through his stomach. Or his head completely.

And he’d be dead.

Gojo inhaled anyway—deep and slow, as though centering himself inside the chaos.

Then, with a flash of his usual smug grin—

"Well then..."
"Let’s keep this show moving, shall we?"

The air warped. The battlefield shifted.

Their gazes didn’t break.

And then—

STEP.

They moved once more.

Notes:

So yeah, Regulus fight still isn't over just yet. That'll be next chapter.
And I made a change, Betelgeuse is still alive for now!

Chapter 18: Eye of the Storm.

Cultists ravaged the evacuated village.

But thanks to intel—and the fact that Subaru could see the Unseen Hands—none of the “Fingers” presented a real threat.

Not with Wilhelm slicing through flesh and false divinity like a storm.
Not with Ferris weaving between the injured, healing as fast as the blades tore.

And not with Subaru, weaving through chaos, cursed energy shrouding his arm.

His fist cracked against a cultist's ribs, the force launching them like a ragdoll.
“Whoo... definitely not Betelgeuse,” Subaru muttered, lowering his stance.

BOOM—!
A deep explosion ripped through the far end of the village.

Purple, disfigured hands erupted into the sky—dozens of them.

“That way!” Subaru barked, sprinting ahead, Wilhelm close behind.

Sliding into the open—

“My brain... TREMBLES! TREMBLES, TREMBLEEES! ..You—”
The cultist twitched unnaturally, that crooked posture unmistakable.

Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti. Again.
Even in another body, the madness was identical. The broken laughter. The frantic gestures.

“You thought crushing my head would end me?! FOOLISHNESS! Sloth! Yes...! that was SLOTHFUL, so very... very... VERYVERYVERY SLOTHFUL!”

He bit his own finger, blood spilling.

“Hmph. That’s enough noise from you, Archbishop!”
Wilhelm dashed forward, sword flashing like steel wind.

SWOOSH—!!

Dozens of Unseen Hands surged forth.

“Wilhelm!” Subaru shouted.

SWISH—!

But Wilhelm was faster.
His blade hummed through the air, slicing one. Then two. Then three.

Vertical. Diagonal. Horizontal. Each swing destroyed another hand.

“No... nononononono—HOW?!”
Petelgeuse reeled in shock, screaming as a massive purple hand formed from his body and swung downward.

Wilhelm lunged—shifting midair—body slipping through the small cracks between the fingers that fell.

Another strike came from Wilhelm's flank.

CRUSH—!!

A shattering punch from Subaru broke the next arm like glass.

Wilhelm landed, his stance perfect, his blade humming.

SLASH—!!
The cut was deep. Clean. Deadly.
Blood sprayed, and Petelgeuse collapsed forward, choking on his own devotion.

Subaru ran to Wilhelm, panting. “How did you see them?”

“I watched the dust,” Wilhelm said, wiping his sword clean. “It revealed their path to me.”

“Badass…” Subaru muttered, shaking his head.
“But what about his resurrection thing? Every time we kill him, another cultist becomes him. Does he need a fresh body every time?”

Wilhelm wasn’t listening. His gaze turned—
“Subaru. MOVE!”

CRASH—!!

A swarm of purple hands smashed the earth beside them as the pair jumped to evade.

And from the smoke—another Betelgeuse. Another “Finger.”

“You... YOUYOUYOU—!”
The new vessel stumbled forward.

“Where is GREED?! He was always punctual! So diligent in his love—and yet he keeps me—WAITING?!”

Subaru tensed, standing beside Wilhelm once again.
“So what... we clear out every Finger and eventually you stay dead?”

---

MEANWHILE...

Gojo's bloodied, shirtless form was flung skyward like a cursed comet—
BOOM—!
He slammed into the ravine wall, bones groaning under the impact.

Mid-spiral, his heel caught a ledge—a shriek of dust as he landed.
He flicked a hand—

Blue.

The cursed technique howled into being, its gravitational pull yanking his body sideways just as a blade of stillness tore up the ledge he'd just occupied, slicing the air into silence.

Gojo twisted midair, feet surfing falling debris.
His eyes locked downward.

Regulus.

Standing untouched, unmoved. The still center of a collapsing world.

The ravine groaned like a dying beast.
Shattered stone floated, suspended like dead stars. Smoke curled from splintered walls. Falling rock painted the outline of gods at war.

Gojo was heaving, breath ragged, blood spilling freely from wounds his cursed energy could barely keep up with.

Regulus?
Pristine. Untouched, excluding the subtle bruise on his cheek.

But his calm had cracked—just slightly. A twitch at the corner of his eye.

"Still dodging. Still dancing... how pathetic."
His voice thundered across the broken chasm.

Gojo didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His right arm was ruined—cursed energy working overtime to re-stitch nerve, tendon, and shattered bone. Every second a miracle. Every second a warning.

He watched. Waited.

Then—

BOOM—!!

Regulus vanished.

Impact.

A swing, and stillness erupted mid-motion—cutting clean through the cliff behind Gojo like a divine execution.

Gojo twisted—

Too late.

His left arm was gone. Ripped clean off.

Then came the shockwave—
Ribs shattered, lungs filled with blood.

He tumbled across jagged debris, coughing crimson into the dirt.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus was on him again.

Gojo ducked low, stillness shaving the air just above his head—an absence so sharp it burned.

He countered.

A jab. A feint. Then a blistering roundhouse, fast enough to collapse the stone beneath them.

The kick landed.

Black Flash—!

Space cracked. Light imploded.

And Regulus didn’t even blink.

“You’re wasting your effort,” Regulus said coldly.
"Touch me, and you prove only your own ignorance. You cannot comprehend what I am."

Gojo’s bruised face twisted into a grin—blood sliding from the corner of his lips.
"Already got you, though. See that bruise?"

He tapped his own cheek mockingly.

Regulus snarled. The air warped.

They vanished—two streaks of light.

Fists blurred. Everything blurred.

Gojo moved like a shadow threading a needle. One mistake—death.

A jab missed.
A knee to Regulus’s ribs—no response.
Gojo spun behind him—flicked his fingers outward—

Blue.

Space distorted, pulling at Regulus’s form—useless.

Instead..

BOOM—!!

Gojo was flung through a slab of stone, the impact cracking his ribs again. Blood blinded one eye.

He staggered to his feet.

THOOM—!

A crater bloomed beside him where Regulus struck—rocks became smoke.
Stillness chased Gojo like a reaper—every inch of air a trap, every step erasure.

He slid under another swing.
Air vaporized the terrain above his head.
He pivoted—

Black Flash—!!

Another hit. Another sonic rupture. Still nothing.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus swiped his arm vertically, fingers moving methodically.

Gojo’s shoulder imploded.
His arm severed, hurled into the void.

Stillness tore the rocks behind him into shreds.

But Gojo didn’t scream—he moved.

He vaulted from falling debris, newly reformed hand flicking midair—

Blue yanked him clear just before the next blow.

Stillness carved through the space he’d just left.
No beam. No blast. Just absence.

He landed hard. Vision doubled. The air too thin, too sharp.

And then—

CRACK—!!

Stillness clipped the edge of his skull—his ear gone. Hearing torn in half.

He reeled, twisting low.
Fist cocked to the side—

Black Flash—!!

BOOM—!!

An axe kick slammed down—

Perfect form.
Perfect hit.
But Regulus didn’t move.

The ground shattered beneath him.

He just stood there. Calm. A statue in a collapsing world.

“Your efforts,” Regulus said, “are wasted.”

He reached—

Gojo blinked away, warping across the ravine.

But Regulus was already there.

Gojo caught his wrist—

Or tried.

It was like grabbing a void.

Stillness erupted with a breath, literally—

BOOM—!!

Gojo was launched. A meteor. His body plowed through stone, grinding through strata until he burst free into the open sky, a shockwave of debris and dust trailing behind him.

Before he could even breathe—

Regulus appeared.

No sound. No warning.

Hands closed around Gojo’s throat.

“Ever wondered what it’s like to fly without slowing down?”

Gojo coughed out.
“Not really—!!”

FWOOOOOOM—!!

The sky swallowed him. Clouds tore open. The air turned to knives.

Rain that once couldn’t touch him—now punched holes through his flesh.

And then—

CRACK—!!
BOOOOOOM—!!

A distant mountain exploded as Gojo collided with it, the impact caving the peak inward.

Avalanches answered.

Silence.

Only snow fell. Until—

“Ughh…”

A hand emerged from the crater’s edge.

Gojo pulled himself free.
Barely alive. Skin steaming, cursed energy holding his pieces together like a dying machine.

He looked down.

White. Mist. Ice. Silence.

"...This isn't Lugunica."

He blinked.

“…Where the hell—”

SWOOSH—!!

A tremor in the mist. Instinct screamed.

Gojo turned—

BOOM—!!

A flat palm missed his skull by a hair, cleaving the cliff behind him into a diagonal scar.

Gojo kicked back, palms clapping—

CLACK.

A transparent shell snapped into place. He launched behind Regulus, body drifting through the air, leg swung outward.

Knee to the ribs—

Black Flash.

Regulus didn’t budge.

Swiftly, Gojo's hand reached out, fingers intertwining as he grabbed Regulus by the back of his head.

SLAM—!!

He hurled Regulus through the air—

The mountaintop exploded downward as Regulus’s body scythed through it.

But again—

Absolute Stillness.

His body paused mid-air, perfectly stagnant.

One flick of his arm—and Gojo was exposed midair.

No footing. No cover. Nowhere to run.

Instead, Gojo’s fingers locked—

SWOOSH—!!

He warped.

The stillness cleaved through empty space.

Regulus blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He was sure, that that would've been it, yet once more Satoru Gojo perseveres.

“What…?”

And then—

A hand on the back of his head.

CRACK—!!

Gojo drove Regulus face-first into the mountain's side. Stone shattered, screaming as a crater swelled.

Regulus rose—but Gojo was already moving. A blur. A flash.

WHAM—!!
CRACK—!!

Each hit thundered like judgment.

Regulus didn’t fall.

Didn’t stagger.

But now—he blinked.

And Gojo was gone.

Until the world warped before the Archbishop's very eyes—

And they were back in the forest.

Back in Lugunica.

The air crackled.

Regulus moved, despite the initial confusion—

SLICE—!!

Gojo’s side tore open. Blood geysered.

But he still lunged—hooked forward, arm flicking out—only to freeze.

Stillness halted the punch mid-motion.

Regulus stood unmoved.

“What are you doing here? You think your little friends can take down Sloth while I unravel you inch by inch? I don’t care about that fractured soul one bit. You—”
He stepped forward.
“—you’re all I see, your constant disrespect and ignorance to MY rights as a human being are what has caused your downfall, Satoru Gojo.”

Stillness warped the air.

Clipped across Gojo’s cheek, cleaving through multiple inches of flesh, revealing the inside of his mouth from the side, the back row of his teeth visible on one side.

Which made for an almost horrifying sight as he grinned.

Bloody. Defiant. Ecstatic.

“How romantical~ but nah… I just LOVE punching you!”

CRACK—!!

Greenery dissolved. Cold replaced heat.

They were back in Gusteko.

A frozen hell. High winds, pale snow.

Regulus didn't comment, he merely moved, fist raised overhead before thrown downward, cleaving empty air until—

SPLIT—!!

A punch. A shockwave.

The mountain SPLIT a fraction of a second later.

Gojo veered just in time—but was seized by the face mid-motion, hurled downward again.

CRASH—!!

Stone. Ice. Wood.

He tumbled through the earth—through trees— and then through a BUILDING.

BOOM—!!

He smashed through a tavern wall and hit the far end hard.

The room went dead quiet.

Eyes. Faces. Ale. Food.

Gojo blinked up.

“…Tavern?”

He grinned through the blood.

“Please tell me they’ve got takeout…”

Regulus hadn’t followed.

Not yet.

Gojo peeled himself off the splintered wooden floor with a groan, boots dragging through shattered beams and spilled ale as he forced himself upright. One hand clutched his side, cursed energy weaving through torn muscle and cracked ribs, but it was sluggish—slower than it should’ve been. Too much damage. Too fast. Too long.

Every breath tasted like blood and snow.

He stepped outside—

—and was greeted by white.

Not just snow.

A city, frozen in frost. Icy towers wrapped in mist, frostbitten rooftops curling under the weight of winter’s constant siege. Silence lay heavy. The streets were dusted in pale powder, and above the skyline—

Nothing. No presence. No killing intent.

But the absence was louder than a scream.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

Is this Gusteko…?

He thought.

That bastard really threw me into a different country.

He glanced down at his battered frame—shirtless, bruised, blood trailing down every inch of his body—and exhaled slowly, ignoring the stunned stares of bystanders clustered at windows or behind broken doors.

“Heh,” he muttered, voice gravel. “Regulus has one hell of a throwing arm. I can finally say I got launched across nations. Bucket list shit!”

His arms twitched, freshly reconstructed bones snapping into place with a soft, wet crackle.

Then—clap.

The space around him warped, and he vanished.

---

“GGRHHKK!!”

Subaru choked, collapsing to his knees, fingers clawing deep trenches into the frozen ground as his lungs seized and his skull pulsed with unnatural pressure.

Something was inside.

Betelgeuse. Writhing, manic, desperate.

Twisting through his synapses like a virus with too many limbs.

But—

Subaru gritted his teeth.

It was just a phrase, just words.

But with the Witch’s miasma suffusing his very being, those words had become a weapon—one Subaru could wield in the darkest of moments.

Each time he uttered them, he felt an unnatural coldness ripple through him. Not on his skin, but deeper—gnawing at his heart, scraping the edge of his soul.

In another world… in another loop… that same cold had taken Emilia’s life.

And yet—

“I… I can return by de—GRRHK!!”

His body locked up, pain screaming through his nerves as if the phrase had triggered something primordial. Something watching.

A few moments passed.

The weight in his skull lightened. The crawling in his spine eased.

Silence.

And thankfully, once more… he was alone in his head, no insane Sin Archbishop making crazy comments from within his mind.

He exhaled sharply and slowly pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady but solid enough.

“Whoo…”

Wilhelm approached, sword still in hand, though the blade was chipped and flecked with blood. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you alright, Subaru?”

Subaru gave a half-shrug, brushing dirt off his jacket.

“Yeah… Betelgeuse tried pulling some possession trick again. I don’t know what happened exactly, but… he’s gone. For good this time.”

He looked out over the remains of the battlefield.

The village was barely that anymore—more a graveyard of splinters and scorched earth. Wooden homes lay flattened, reduced to heaps of broken timber and ash.

But among the wreckage stood survivors. And when Subaru spoke again—

“Still… we did it. We beat a Sin Archbishop.”

—it was like a fuse was lit.

The realization hit the soldiers all at once. Those who were still conscious, those not already being patched up by Felix’s healing magic, began raising their weapons in triumph. Ragged cheers rose into the smoky sky, shaky but genuine.

A rare sound after a war won.

SWOOSH—!

A sudden gust sliced through the noise.

Subaru's head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened.

“Gojo-sen—sei...?”

There he stood—barely.

Gojo’s frame was painted in dried and wet blood, from forehead to waist. Cuts lined his body like a cracked porcelain statue, bruises and lacerations still leaking crimson. His stance wavered.

But his voice remained.

“We won’t be seeing Regulus for a while…”

That was all he managed before his legs gave out and he slumped into a sitting position, breath heavy, shoulders trembling.

“If that fight lasted any longer… I would’ve died.”

There was no sarcasm. No smirk.

Just honesty. A rare kind from Satoru Gojo.

Subaru let out a long breath, heart still hammering. Relief hit him in waves. Just the sight of Gojo alive was a miracle.

Felix bolted over, dropping to his knees beside the sorcerer with feline urgency.

“Nyaaa—! You look like you got dragged through a mountain, Gojo! Sit still, I’m healing you right now.”

Gojo didn’t resist.

"Well.. I actually did but-"

He paused, simply glancing at the blood dripping off his fingers, voice distant.

“I think I lost at least like twenty five limbs in that fight. Pretty sure he literally launched me to a different nation aswell.”

Subaru blinked. “You’re serious?”

“I joke a lot,” Gojo said flatly, “But not about that. Another five minutes and I wouldn’t have made it. That guy was... something else.”

He leaned back, letting his head rest against a half-buried cart. He looked exhausted—not physically, but deep in his soul.

Subaru knelt beside him, watching the soldiers still celebrating in the background.

“…But it’s over now, right?”

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. Just stared up at the smoky sky.

Then—

“…Yeah.”

Subaru smiled, eyes soft.

“Yeah… it’s…”

“…Snowing..? Why is it snowing…?” Gojo’s voice was low, brows furrowed in confusion.

It didn't make sense, there was no reason for it to be snowing right now.

No reason...

No.. reason..?

Subaru’s mind flashed back to the last time it snowed—the reason why it had been.

A colossal behemoth towering over his half-frozen body.

The Beast of the End.

In accordance with our contract… I will now destroy the world.

A world without Lia is not a world I wish to live in.

A cold sweat broke out on Subaru’s forehead. Panic tightened his chest.

“No… no, nono…”

Gojo caught the change instantly; his tone sharpened, darkening.

“What…?”

“This… this means that… Emilia’s…”

Gojo cut in, springing to his feet as soon as he had been healed a sufficient amount.

“Well, all we gotta do is find her, right?”

His head snapped toward Ferris.

“Where were they headed? You know?”

“I believe they were moving toward the capital… so my best guess would be nyear Flugel’s Tree.”

Gojo smirked, extending a hand toward Subaru.

“Good.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

“Well…? Let’s get going, dude.”

“R-right…”

Subaru took Gojo’s hand—but the cold nagging at his thoughts wouldn’t let go.

Doesn’t the snow already mean… Emilia is—

Suddenly, reality pulsed.

Two figures vanished from thin air.

The next moment—

The towering Flugel’s Tree came into view, or atleast the base of it, mist covered any higher than that.

Except everything was frozen. A gale of snow whipped down like winter had come early, relentless and merciless.

Bodies lay half-buried beneath the snow.

Cultists. Children.

Petra’s eyes stared glassy and frozen.

Then, through the swirling mist, two golden eyes gleamed—fixed on them, unblinking.

“…Subaru… Gojo…”

A colossal paw tore through the fog.

The towering behemoth emerged—

The Beast of the End.

“P-Puck…?” Subaru’s breath caught in the biting cold.

“Ah… you can recognize me?” The voice was cold, unyielding. “No matter. In accordance with my contract… I will end this world.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“What…?”

“A world without Emilia… is not one worth living. Do not take it personally. I harbor no ill will toward those Emilia cherishes…”

“Uh, destroying the world sounds pretty damn personal to me!” Gojo yelled, stepping forward.

Subaru opened his mouth, but Puck cut him off, voice darker than before.

“Emilia died protecting the children… but even that was not enough. Even with me… they were too numerous.”

Gojo let out a breath and ruffled his hair.

“Bouncing from one final boss to the next, huh? But… Subaru, this is kinda bad. I pretty much completely burnt out my cursed techniques fighting Regulus…”

He chuckled bitterly, raising a hand.

Ice began to form slowly over his skin.

“You should probably get outta here,” Gojo said, eyes narrowing. “Not sure how this guy stacks up against Regulus, but he’s giving off some seriously dangerous vibes.”

His focus snapped back to Puck.

CRACK—CRUNCH—CRACK!

With every heavy step the behemoth took, jagged ice spiraled up around its legs, threatening to trap Gojo in a frozen prison. Flesh peeled away where the cold bit deepest, raw and burning, but Gojo refused to stop.

Subaru couldn’t say the same. The ice spread rapidly over him, cruel fingers creeping up his limbs, locking him in place. His breath hitched as frost crept over his skin, numbing every nerve. Helpless, he watched Gojo advance alone.

Gojo’s fist drew back, energy screaming through his veins—

IMPACT-!

One of Puck’s massive fangs shattered and tore free, the beast’s head snapping violently aside.

Then came the crystals—towering shards piercing the air, some as large as houses, others smaller but no less deadly.

Gojo landed hard against the ice with a grimace, fingers barely able to curl into fists.

“You gotta be kidding me...” he muttered, exhaling a slow, tense breath.

Nervousness settled over him like a shadow, but he steadied his stance, legs wide and ready. His face was a mask of icy concentration, pain and determination etched deep into every line.

Fallen Blossoming Emotion.

A technique designed to counter domain expansions by enveloping the user in a protective shroud of cursed energy, striking back the moment contact is made.

Gojo wasn’t sure if it would work on pure magic, but he had to try.

With a deep breath, he surged forward. Ice glittered like glass shards, slicing the frozen ground and crashing against his barrier with relentless force.

SWOOSH—

He weaved through the jagged shards, countless pieces slicing shallow wounds into his barrier, but none breaking through fully.

THUD—CRASH!

He leapt onto a towering, jagged mound of ice, the bone-chilling cold biting through his bare foot. Without hesitation, he sprinted along the crest of the icy spire, closing in on the colossal Beast of the End with a fist pulled back to his hip.

“Satoru Gojo... you truly are impressive,” Puck’s voice rumbled through the frozen air.

Then the clash.

Collision was made between fighters.

The Honored One and the Beast of The End at the eye of the storm.

Then..

CRACK-!

The world went black, death finally swallowing everything before the cold could freeze over completely.

Notes:

Was another death from Subaru in this arc expected or not?

Chapter 19: Failure after Failure.

Subaru Natsuki was confused—more than that, frustrated. What had he done wrong in the last loop that led to everyone in the carriage being slaughtered?
Did he miscalculate the number of cultists? Had he assumed too easily they’d all target the village and nowhere else?

Or was there someone else at play—some piece he hadn’t accounted for?

SNAP.

A finger clicked in front of his face. A hand waved. Subaru blinked as it came into focus, then pushed it aside.

“You good?” Gojo asked, cocking his head. “You just zoned out hard.”

“Ah.” Subaru blinked, glancing around. Soldiers stood at ease. Wilhelm. Ferris. Rem. Crusch. And Gojo—alive and grinning like usual.
They were back at Flugel’s Tree. The White Whale had just been slain.

Subaru grinned, brushing off the daze. “Ahem! My bad. Right—where was I?”

He straightened his posture, his voice gaining confidence.
“So, aside from Crusch and half her army heading back to deliver the Whale’s corpse, the rest of us are heading to the Mathers Domain. The Witch’s Cult is making a move on the village.”

Gasps and murmurs spread among the troops. Fury simmered in many expressions—but after their victory, no one looked afraid.

“Two Sin Archbishops,” Subaru continued. “Sloth and Greed. And a horde of cultists.”

He turned to Gojo, voice firm.

“I need you to stall Greed—not just until we beat Sloth, but until Emilia and the kids are safely on the road to the capital.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Stall? Me? You forget who you’re talkin’ to?”

Subaru shook his head, expression serious.
“I’m not underestimating you—if anything, I think Regulus is your perfect counter. I don’t know how it works, but his attacks… they seem completely unstoppable."

Gojo whistled low. “Well, if you're saying so then I'll be cautious..”

He clapped his hands together with a pop, grinning.

“But hey, I wouldn’t be much of a sensei if I didn’t take heed to the words of my one and only pupil!”

Subaru let out a relieved breath.

“Good. He might already be there, holding the villagers hostage. We can’t afford to wait.”

Gojo’s face darkened. “Yeah... that’s pretty bad. Alright, see you later.”

“Oh..!” Subaru leant forward in realization. “After you've stalled, for a bit less than an hour or so when we arrive, escape and wait back here for the carriage with Emilia and the kids to show up.”

And without another word, he vanished—space bending around him as he blinked out of sight.

Subaru turned to the rest. His expression was steel.

“Wilhelm. Rem. You’re with me. We’re taking down Sloth.”

He continued, tone sharpened by experience.
“Sloth has a trick—he can transfer to different bodies after death, and he has invisible hands, I'm not sure what his limit exactly is but.. they’ll crush you if they catch you.”

“So the solution?” Subaru smirked. “Kick up dust. Lots of it. Helps you see them.”

I can thank Wilhelm himself for that idea...

Rem’s eyes gleamed with renewed determination. “Rem will stand with her hero until every last cultist lies in ruin...”

Wilhelm simply nodded.
“After your role in slaying the White Whale and vital role in avenging my beloved Theresia... I’d walk with you through death and beyond tenfold, Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru couldn’t help but grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s move out!”

---

Later…

FWOOM—!
BOOM—!
CRACK—!!

The echoes of destruction carried for miles—massive cursed energy reverberating through the forest. Thunderclaps of a battle far off in the distance, but their effects still absolute.

“Seems like Gojo’s keeping the yellow-eyed bastard busy,” Subaru muttered, eyes scanning the horizon.

Ferris looked uneasy. “Nya… Gojo’s really a powerhouse, huh?”

“That’s my teacher!” Subaru said with a grin. “Anyway... let’s move.”

He hopped off Patrasche as they neared the village, boots crunching into the dirt.

Upon entering, he shouted back to the soldiers that closely followed.
“Free all the villagers! Get them ready to evacuate!”

The huddled prisoners flinched at the sound—then, as they saw who it was, faces changed. Fear melted into relief.

It was all playing out like the last time. So far, which is good.

But Subaru knew better than to grow confident. Last time, he let his guard down—and they paid for it.

Not again.

Even if Gojo was worn out stalling Regulus, he was still Emilia’s best chance compared to himself or even Wilhelm. Subaru just had to make sure the rest played out right.

He clenched his fists.

Subaru watched as the soldiers moved quickly, freeing the villagers from their restraints. Relief and confusion were already blooming on their faces, so he stepped forward before the questions could erupt.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on, right? Guy with white hair, yellow eyes—called himself a Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult?”

He snapped his fingers sharply.
“Yeah. That was real. And it’s about to get worse. Another one’s coming, with dozens of cultists. So we need all of you to evacuate—now. We’ve brought carriages.”

They delayed us a little… but this is still on track with last loop.
Subaru’s brows furrowed as he thought, watching the villagers shuffle toward the transport.

But… they reacted so fast last time too. Like they knew we were coming. I don’t have Gojo-sensei’s senses, or Wilhelm’s reflexes. If a cultist was nearby, I wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

So… a spy..? Or one of them already under Betelgeuse’s control?
He’s done it before. Possessing bodies... maybe it’s tied to the Witch’s scent. That’s how he got inside me, too.

“...Subaru?”

A voice—warm, familiar, achingly close. In any other moment, he might’ve been thrilled.

“…Emilia.”

His gaze dropped for a moment. Even now, after everything, he still felt that pang of shame just looking at her.

But then he exhaled. Steadied himself. Raised his eyes.

“Emilia. I imagine Rem’s letter gave you the basics, but I need to tell you directly—The Witch’s Cult is coming. They’re after you.”

He tilted his head slightly, voice low. “If you listen close, you’ll hear it way off in the distance—Gojo-sensei is already fighting one of the Archbishops to buy us time way away.”

Emilia’s eyes widened. She clasped her hand over her mouth, horrified. “Will—Will he be alright?”

Subaru nodded, though it took a second. “Yeah. He’s a beast. But that’s not the point.”

He took a step closer, voice hardening.

“The Cult is coming for you, Emilia. I don’t know why. But I need you to evacuate with the others.”

She flinched as if slapped. “I—I should fight! I’m not weak, Subaru! I won’t just run when they’re coming because of me!”

Subaru grabbed her shoulders, voice dropping low but sharp with urgency.

“I know you’re strong. And if it were anything else, I’d want you fighting beside me. But this plan—it depends on you fleeing.”

She hesitated, lips parted—but he kept going.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me for how I treated you before. I was a selfish, short-sighted mess. We can talk after this. Properly. But right now—this whole ambush, it’s for you. They’ve laid everything just to trap you. so please..?”

Emilia looked down at the ground, then back up—her eyes steady, but firm.

“Fine. But when this is all done and dusted… you’re not getting out of that talk!”

Subaru smiled, a small laugh escaping him. “Nobody says ‘when this is done and dusted’ anymore, but… alright!”

He stood back and watched as the carriages rolled away—Emilia and the villagers disappearing toward safety.

He took a deep breath.

“Alright… and right on cue—”

His eyes darted skyward.
A massive purple hand coalesced from thin air—descending like an unholy hammer.

“One hand—overhead!!” Subaru yelled, instantly reinforcing his limbs with cursed energy—readying to dodge, to fight, to do something—

SWOOSH—

Wilhelm was faster. Already in the air, sword drawn, slicing upward. The blade cleaved through the phantom wrist with enough force to disperse the entire thing back into nothing. He landed in a crouch, spinning once and kicking up a cloud of dirt as he performed a controlled skid back on the ground.

“Nice one, old man!” Subaru shouted.

From the treeline, masked cultists emerged in a swarm—daggers flashing under the forest light.

“Alright everyone—it’s time!!” Subaru bellowed.

With a roar, the soldiers charged. Steel clashed with steel, screams rang out, and blood quickly soaked the grassy earth. Sparks flew. Every life lost was met with another taken.

But we’ve got something they don’t. A beast of a healer, Ferris should save any that aren't too far gone already.

Rem, horn glowing with rage, moved like a hurricane of pure devastation—her mace a blur of destruction. Limbs and bodies flew with every swing, each cultist that approached her torn apart in brutal arcs, resulting in blood spurting like rain.

Beside her, Wilhelm was pure, honed lethality. Every strike surgically dismantled his foe—limbs removed, bodies sliced. He alone seemed able to sense the invisible hands, narrowly dodging their sweeps and various charges thanks to the dirt hanging in the air.

Each one we kill… it brings us closer to the real fight.. I don't have to be alone, Gojo-Sensei made me realized that. With Rem, and Wilhelm this time around.. Betelgeuse'll be a cinch to beat..

Subaru’s gaze hardened.

---

“BLACK FLASH—!!”
CRACK–BOOOM—!!!

The explosion tore through the ravine like an earthquake. A shockwave of condensed, flawless cursed energy detonated at Regulus’s midsection, space and time folding into a black and red singularity of unrivalled impact.

Regulus didn’t fly from pain, of course.
He didn’t even flinch from the force, it was impossible for anyone to hurt him with his authority after all.

Instead, he was launched—by the sheer physics-defying violence of the blow catching Regulus off guard.
His body twisted, spiraling like a human missile, carving a cratered tunnel through the rock with each brutal collision.

Meters. Dozens of them.
Wall after wall. Shattering stone. Until finally—

THUD—!!

He slammed into a cliffside with such force it left a crater, dust and rock erupting outward like a second impact.

The entire ravine shook. Stone groaned. Loose debris shifted, as if the world itself had paused in awe of the strike.

Gojo stood amidst it all.
Chest heaving. Blood streaking down his robes. Eyes narrowed through the steam of effort and exertion.

Then—from the pit Regulus had left in the stone—
A voice. Calm. Mocking. Unbothered.

“That one was a little different, wasn’t it..? And yet... still meaningless to someone like me, clearly.”

SWOOSH—

Time resumed.

Falling rocks, suspended midair in the curse-forged stillness, continued their descent.
They crashed against the ravine walls below like distant war drums, echoing through the gorge like a whisper to the chaos.

Gojo stood atop a jagged slab of stone, a frozen monument amidst the chaos.
His breath was sharp, deliberate. Every wound bled slow, stubborn. His mind raced behind unreadable eyes.

Across from him, embedded in the cliff wall, Regulus emerged. Arms relaxed. Robes torn but untouched.
Golden eyes glowing through the dust—arrogant, unscathed.

Between them, distance.
Tension.
The fragile breath before the next hurricane.

Gold met Blue.

A standoff. Not of fear. Not fatigue.
Only calculation.
And inevitability.

How much longer can I keep this up…? 

Gojo barely let the thought take form. He couldn’t afford doubt.
But it was there. Buried in the back of his skull like a splinter made of truth.

He could stall. He could weave. He could counter.
But none of it would matter if he slipped—once.
A wrong breath. A twitch out of sync. A second too slow.

A cut through his chest.
A hole through his head.

And it’d be over.

Still, he inhaled—slow and steady. Grounding himself in the warzone. In his reality.

Then he cracked a grin. Lopsided. Confident. Unbreakable.

“Well then…”
“Let’s keep this show moving, shall we?”

The air shimmered. The battlefield bent.

Neither blinked. Neither moved—

Until—

STEP.

Both vanished.

---

Subaru was mid-charge, weaving through the chaos—less like a strategist, more like a storm.
His role wasn’t leading. Not Just yet. He was support. Assisting the struggling soldiers as Wilhelm and Rem carved clean paths through the battlefield effortlessly.

SWISH— SWOOSH— SWISH—!

Cursed energy surged through his limbs, wrapping his frame in raw potential. Every movement—amplified. Every strike—devastating.
He danced from one distracted cultist to the next, cracking bones with precision and force.
One. Two. Three.
Each hit landed with a sickening crunch, bodies dropping before they even registered the pain.

“Whoo...”
He exhaled, boots skidding across the dust-streaked ground, eyes snapping to the side.

Felix.

Cornered. On the defensive.
Parrying twin cultists with graceful but labored steps. His breathing shallow, footing sloppy. He wouldn’t hold long.

“No you don’t—!!”

Subaru exploded forward.
Cursed energy ignited like a violet blaze around his body, trailing afterimages as he closed the gap in an instant.

CRACK—!

His forearm surged up mid-slide, cursed energy condensing around the bone like a living shield.
The cultist’s dagger bounced off, barely scratching the surface. Subaru didn’t flinch. Not anymore.

His leg whipped in a wide arc, shin smashing into the first cultist’s ribs with enough force to launch them sideways—into the second, bowling both to the dirt.

Then, a single leap.
His foot compressed mid-air, then slammed downward, crashing onto the tangled cultists like a falling meteor.
BOOM—!!
The ground beneath them spiderwebbed, cracks splintering out like fractured glass.

He exhaled, turning to Felix with a sharp nod.

“You okay, Ferris?”

The cat-boy blinked in surprise, his tail flicking behind him.
“Nya... You’ve gotten a whole lot stronger.. Looks like that beating from Julius actually paid off, huh?”

Subaru gave a flat look.
“Tch. Yeah, well... I was at fault for that—”

SHNK—!!

Mid-sentence, a blade sliced down from above.

Subaru sidestepped instantly—body snapping into motion like a machine. His hand surged upward.

WHUMP—!!

A palm slammed into the cultist’s diaphragm, folding the attacker in half and blasting them backward with a guttural wheeze.

Subaru’s voice was flat as he deadpanned.

“...I’m aware.”

With a sharp exhale, Subaru turned and rushed back into the fray.

He spotted Rem—her movements were starting to falter. Unlike Wilhelm, who carved through enemies with mechanical precision, Rem’s wild, wrathful swings were slowing.

Her spiked mace crushed two cultists in a single arc—but a third slipped past her guard.

A dagger plunged into her shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh. Rem let out a primal roar of pain and anger, blood running down her arm.

SWOOSH—!

Subaru was already there.
He appeared behind her like a shadow, knuckles rising into a wide forearm swipe, batting away an incoming strike.

CRACK—!!

His palm slammed forward, catching the cultist directly in the throat.
They staggered, clutching their windpipe, choking.

Then—

SQUELCH—!!

His fist drove through the cultist’s torso.
Not just a punch—a violent, precise spear of cursed energy, tearing through ribs and organs before exploding out the other side in a spray of viscera and guts.

The cultist convulsed. Subaru yanked his hand free with a wet, sickening sound.

“...Bastard...”

He stared at his blood-drenched arm.
At the carnage he'd just inflicted.
And felt nothing.

Not shock. Not guilt. Not even revulsion.

Only silence.

And a low whisper, barely a breath..
"I love you."

The words came from nowhere.

Subaru’s head snapped sideways, eyes wide—

He blinked hard, breathing unsteady, as his hand slowly curled.

Just for a moment...

It was like he wasn’t entirely in control.
Or rather—he was, but the feeling was twisted.
The violence felt good. Too good.

His thoughts spiraled.

It’s the miasma... isn’t it? Is it effecting me somehow?

THUD—!!

Rem’s mace slammed across his vision, cleaving a cultist that had crept too close.
Their body hit the dirt, entrails spilling like wet rope.

“S-Subaru! Please focus—!!” she cried, voice desperate.

He blinked again, dazed—then shook his head hard, forcing clarity back into his mind.

“R—Right...”

Subaru glanced around the battlefield— Nearly all the cultists were gone. Wilhelm stood amidst the dust, sword dripping, dispatching the final stragglers with cold efficiency.

That was easier than last time... Having Rem here really did make the difference...

But the quiet didn’t last.

BWOOM—!!!

From the edge of the ruins—dozens of grotesque, purple hands erupted like thorny vines, slamming into the ground and latching onto soldiers with terrifying speed.

“Gahk—!!”

Screams echoed as soldiers were lifted, crushed, slammed.

SNAP—SWOOSH!

Wilhelm dashed forward, blade gleaming through the rising dust. One swing—a hand fell. Another—a soldier dropped, gasping but alive. He weaved and cut with the rage of a man who had defied death and loss too many times.

Subaru's blood ran cold.

“He’s here.”

Rem growled low beside him, her grip on her mace tightening.

From the ruins—a figure emerged.

Contorting. Twitching. Screaming in rage.

“WHY… WHY-WHY, WHYYYY?!?”

His eyes bulged.
His green-tinged skin split and cracked.
Each limb jerked like a puppet on broken strings.
His mouth stretched into a grotesque, bleeding grin.

“Why is it YOU—YOU with those overwhelming pangs of LOVE, acting so SLUGGISHLY? So LAZILY? So… SLOTHFULLY! YES!! SLOTHFUL—!!”

He bit down on his own fingers, blood spurting between his teeth.

The madness was palpable.

Several soldiers instinctively stepped back. Even after all they’d seen, this… was different.

This was true evil made manifest.

Subaru took a step forward.

“Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti…”
His voice was firm. “Your plan’s already unraveling. You just don’t know it yet.”

Just a little longer… Gojo-sensei, it’s your move now...

Betelgeuse stumbled forward—almost drunkenly—his arms dangling like broken branches.

“Greed—WHERE is GREED?! He’s always SO PUNCTUAL—YET NOW HE MAKES ME WAIT?! ME!! A FELLOW ARCHBISHOP—WAITING?!?”

He shrieked.

“That... that is SLOTH!!”

SWOOSH—!!

“That’s enough out of you, MONSTER!!”

Wilhelm was already on the move—a bullet of muscle and vengeance.

But Betelgeuse anticipated it.

Purple hands surged—dozens weaving like the limbs of a furious god, lifting high, and crashing down in waves.

CLANG—!!!

Steel met invisible might. Wilhelm’s blade deflected mid-air, screaming under the pressure.

He spun back, boots skidding through dirt, sword still in hand.

“Tch.”

“Rem! Wilhelm!”

Subaru’s voice rang out like a command — no hesitation, no doubt.

“We strike together—now!!”

BOOM—!!

Subaru surged forward first, cursed energy flaring around his limbs like violet lightning. His body blurred — enhanced speed launching him forward in a single bound. Dust erupted in his wake, flung skyward.

THWAM—!!

He slammed his fist down on one of Betelgeuse’s outstretched purple hands, cracking the spectral limb and driving it into the ground like broken bone. His eyes locked with the Archbishop’s.

Betelgeuse’s grin fell further, blood still trickling from his lips.

CLANG—!!

Wilhelm van Astrea was next — descending from above with a silver flash. His blade sliced clean through a trio of reaching hands, twisting mid-air to carve a wide arc at Betelgeuse’s neck.

But Betelgeuse twitched violently, body contorting backward like his spine had no bones, avoiding the slash by a hair’s breadth.

“SO FAST! SO FAST!- YOU ARE STILL DROWNED IN LOVE! FOR YOUR WIFE—SUCH SLOTHFUL OBSESSION THAT SHOULD BE DIRECTED TOWARD THE WITCH!”

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed as he leapt back. “I’ve no words for filth like you.”

CRASH—!!

From the flank—Rem appeared, a cyclone of raw fury. Her mace swung wide, smashing aside multiple spectral hands in a single sweep. Her horn burned bright, violet light surging along her cheek as she roared—

“RAAAAGHH—!!”

Betelgeuse turned just in time to see her leap—
She came down like a falling star.

THWACK—!!!

Her mace connected — and this time, it wasn’t just a blow.
It was annihilation.

CRACK—SPLAT!!

Betelgeuse’s ribcage split wide open, the force of the hit ripping him apart. Organs burst free, unfurling in mid-air like red ribbons, spraying a curtain of blood across the ruined earth.

“Gurk… S-Sa… tella…—”

His voice died mid-breath.

But Subaru didn’t wait.

He dashed forward, vaulting over Rem’s shoulder, using a disintegrating phantom hand as a springboard—

And then—

“—TAKE THIS!!”

His palm drew back, cursed energy converging into a singularity, his knuckles a burning violet star.

CRACK—!!!

The blow landed dead center on Betelgeuse’s skull.
His neck snapped back, sickeningly unnatural, as his body rocketed downward into the earth—

BOOM—!!

The crater rippled out.

Subaru exhaled once.

Then struck again.

THUD-!

CRACK—!!

BOOM-!!

Each strike landed like a hammer of divine judgment, Subaru’s face twisted with raw intensity—no longer anger. No longer fear. Something else, indifference.

BOOM—!!

CRACK-!!

THUD—!!

The crater deepened. Stone fractured. Blood painted Subaru’s hands, his arms, his face.

Rem stepped forward, expression tight.
Wilhelm, silent… but concerned. Very concerned.

She reached out. Her hand gripped his shoulder, firm.

Subaru’s head snapped to the side, breath sharp—
Fist frozen mid-swing.

But his eyes…

Rem staggered back.

They weren’t Subaru’s eyes.

They were void, tinted in deep purple. A swirling malevolence behind the irises. For just a second—he wasn’t him.

Then— A blink. Another. And the light returned.

“Eh… huh… oh—”

He turned, slowly.

And looked down.

What remained of Betelgeuse wasn’t even a man.

The face was gone, shattered and splattered in a red haze, bone and brain matter more visible than any human feature. The skull split open like a crushed melon, remnants twitching in the pool of gore.

Subaru’s breath caught.

His stomach turned.

I did it again.

STEP—

His foot hesitated.

His body trembled.

Eyes wide.

That… that was me..? Again..? It happened again… it's like… I wasn't in control..

Then—
That feeling.

The twist in his stomach. The slithering of something oily and cold down his spine. That unmistakable pressure—
Betelgeuse. Again.

Subaru’s body stood still, unmoving. But inside—

---

The world was black. An endless, mist-choked void. Shadows deeper than ink, silence louder than screams. This was Subaru’s mindscape. But it wasn’t empty.

Full of love. Twisted, wild, perfect love.

“A-Ah… S-Satella…!!”
Betelgeuse crumbled to his knees, trembling, weeping.

This—this was the one. The vessel he had longed for.

The witch had heard him. The witch had given. Again!!

But then—

Footsteps.

Soft. Measured. Unhurried.

From the black haze, a figure emerged— Masculine. Average height. Spiky hair dancing in an invisible breeze. Pure pitch black. No details. Just a silhouette, with an unsettling gaze.

But the moment Betelgeuse set eyes upon him—

Fear. Real fear surged. Primal and paralyzing, as if his instincts were telling him, whatever this THING was, could kill him in a second thought.

It wasn't death that he feared, no, not at all. He wasn't sure why he felt in such a way, either.

“W-Who… who are you…?”
His voice cracked under the weight of it.

The silhouette stopped a few paces away.
Two gleaming purple eyes opened in the void. They stared down at him like twin galaxies.

Tilt.
A head cocked sideways, in mock curiosity.

“A name? But… you already know me. I just killed you, after all. Or—maybe 'I' didn’t? Technically? Reality’s funny like that..”

Betelgeuse’s teeth chattered. His body stayed kneeling, but his spine wanted to flee.

Then—rage. Instinct.

From his back, dozens of spectral purple hands exploded outward—screaming toward the figure.

STEP—
The figure moved, one step forward.

SWOOSH—

The world inverted.

Betelgeuse blinked.

Why… why can I see my own body…?

It was on its knees. Below him. The head still attached—barely—dangling.

And the figure?

Now behind him, gripping his decapitated head by the hair, lazily swinging his vision from side to side like a lantern.

“Little spirit, did you just try to attack me..? Do you know what I am?"

Betelgeuse twitched, confused.

“W-What are you…?”

The grin—though unseen—was felt.

“Pride.”

A beat. Betelgeuse’s mind warped into delight—
Eyes widening with delirious glee—

“Ah—Aha—!! So it’s you! It’s truly you—!”

But the smile from the silhouette, no, Pride, didn’t change.

“Now come along. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

And just like that—

It wasn’t fun anymore.

Betelgeuse’s expression collapsed. His eyes widened in genuine, utter despair as he was dragged through the endless void, helpless, dangling by the hair like a puppet.

“Eh…? What do you mean ‘you don’t want that thing in here’… Satella?”

Then—

Blackness engulfed everything.

---

Somewhere Else...

BOOM—!!

Gojo was launched. A meteor. His body plowed through stone, grinding through strata until he burst free into the open sky, a shockwave of debris and dust trailing behind him.

Before he could even breathe—

Regulus appeared.

No sound. No warning.

Hands closed around Gojo’s throat.

“Ever wondered what it’s like to fly without slowing down?”

Gojo coughed out.
“Not really—!!”

FWOOOOOOM—!!

The sky swallowed him. Clouds tore open. The air turned to knives.

Rain that once couldn’t touch him—now punched holes through his flesh.

And then—

CRACK—!!
BOOOOOOM—!!

A distant mountain exploded as Gojo collided with it, the impact caving the peak inward.

Avalanches answered.

Silence.

Only snow fell. Until—

“Ughh…”

A hand emerged from the crater’s edge.

Gojo pulled himself free.
Barely alive. Skin steaming, cursed energy holding his pieces together like a dying machine.

He looked down.

White.
Mist.
Ice.
Silence.

“…This isn’t Lugunica.”

He blinked.

“…Where the hell—”

SWOOSH—!!

A tremor cut through the mist. Instinct screamed.

Gojo turned—

BOOM—!!

A flat palm missed his skull by inches, cleaving the cliff behind him into a jagged diagonal scar.

Gojo kicked back, hands clapping—vanishing into thin air, leaving Regulus alone atop the icy peak.

He reappeared near Flugel’s Tree, just as Subaru had asked, stumbling. His breathing was ragged. Reversed Cursed Technique, strained and sluggish, fought to repair him. Infinity flickering from exhaustion.

Then— it was gone.

“Ugh… Now then, I just need to wai—”

A presence. Too close. Too foreign.

His head snapped to the side.

A small figure stood in the mist. Cloaked in white, almost angelic.
Pale hair fell straight, too smooth, too unnatural. Her eyes—cerulean and empty—stared right into him.

She smiled.

“Ahh… I feel so honored. To think I’d meet the one I wasn’t expecting to. The one who doesn’t belong. Not yet... Too soon...”

Pandora, the Witch of Vainglory.

Her voice was flat, devoid of weight. A whisper against glass.

“But no matter. He… misstepped. Sending you here. That means… he must die. Satoru Gojo… I cannot allow you to be here again.”

Gojo’s brows furrowed.

“…The hell are you even talking about? Who’s ‘he’?”

She tilted her head.

“The one chosen by Envy, of course. I was expecting him by carriage.”

A pause.

“But regardless… I shall correct this error.”

“Satoru Gojo… you will—”

---

Back in Arlam Village…

Subaru’s chest heaved.
The sensation—the invasive sickness of Betelgeuse’s mind—was gone.

Strange. I didn’t even have to say it this time…?

He sat up, looking toward Rem with a tired smile.

“Sorry! I probably made you worry, huh? I was just ultra-focused, that’s all.”

Rem didn’t respond.

Wilhelm stared at him—stoic, unreadable. But suspicious.

Felix approached, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Phew… I healed what I could. Only a few deaths but… deaths nonetheless.”

Anger surfaced in his voice for a brief second, before he exhaled.

Wilhelm placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We won. Now all we need is—”

“Gojo?” Rem asked, gaze turned away.

“Yeah, Sen…sei—”

Subaru stopped.

He saw it too.

Gojo. Shirt torn, body bloodied, walking forward without a word. Dead eyes. Not tired. Not relieved. Just… empty.

Subaru’s instincts screamed.

“Gojo-sensei… why are you…”

A red glow flickered in Gojo’s hand.

Before anyone could react—his palm snapped sideways, aimed at Wilhelm and Felix.

BOOOOM—!!

The cursed technique hit squarely. The Sword Demon was launched across the village like a missile, crashing through a house as the ground buckled beneath him. He may of survived.

But Felix wasn't so lucky, he was blasted with the same force, but he was not the Sword Demon. His body was broken, crumbled, shattered from the force of the impact.

“…Here…?”

Subaru’s words died in his throat.

Rem stepped forward.

“Gojo, what are you—GAAHK—!?”

CRACK—!!

A fist slammed into her gut. Ribs shattered. The shockwave screamed, flattening nearby structures as Rem was flung across the battlefield.

Silence. Then panic. Soldiers staggered to their feet, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion.

“W-What is he doing?!”

Gojo said nothing.
His hand rose again.
Palm aimed at a group of soldiers.

A blue sphere began to pulse. Subaru moved. Too fast to think.

His fist, soaked in cursed malevolence, swung forth and...

THUD—!!

Impact was made, the fist struck his stomach without stopping. The force was mighty, and Gojo coughed blood, stumbling backward. His stance adjusted automatically.

It hit him…?!
Right—his technique’s exhausted… from Regulus…

“WHY?!”
Subaru screamed, arms outstretched.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, GOJO-SENSEI?!”

Gojo didn’t answer.

He simply stared.

Expressionless.

Until—

BOOM—!!

A shockwave tore the air apart.

Gojo blurred forward, a streak of white and blue, cursed energy flaring like a solar flare in motion. Subaru barely twisted aside—the air itself screamed—and the ground where he’d been standing detonated, cratering violently, dirt and shattered stone flying like shrapnel skyward.

He's slower… weaker… than normal but still—!!
Still fast enough to kill me.

Subaru’s fist pulsed—black and violet cursed energy hissed and danced like writhing serpents around his arm. He drove it forward with everything he had and more.

CRACK—!!

His knuckles slammed into Gojo’s ribs. Gojo staggered back, coughing blood that sprayed in a crimson arc across the grass. His foot dug deep into the earth, cracking the stone beneath as he refixed his stature.

"Why won’t you answer me?!" Subaru screamed, voice hoarse with pain and fury, as he charged again—cursed energy flaring violently with every step, splitting the air.

SWOOSH-!
He launched a jab. Gojo’s arm intercepted, slapping it aside with a heavy forearm swipe.

SWISH—!
Subaru pivoted. His body snapped into a fluid spiral. A sweeping kick rocketed into Gojo’s shin.

CRACK—!
The impact thundered out, echoing across the forest as Gojo stumbled sideways. His boots tore through grass and loose soil, leaving behind gouged trails of uprooted earth.

I dont wanna do this but...

Subaru didn’t stop.

He pounced like a feral animal—fists ablaze, trails of black lightning sparking in their wake.

THUD—! THUD—!

Two jabs—one slamming into Gojo’s side, the other skimming off his collarbone with enough force to fracture. Gojo twisted with the momentum, body turning—but Subaru followed through.

He ducked, surged in, and—

BOOM—!

A gut punch landed hard, the shockwave flattening grass in a twenty-foot radius. Gojo’s breath hitched, coughing blood.

He felt that one..!

Then, Gojo’s head snapped back up, and his hand lashed out without a second thought—

SNAP—!!

He gripped Subaru’s wrist mid-swing. Tight. Like a vice. Subaru barely had time to flinch until contact was made—

THOOM—!!

Gojo’s knee rocketed into his chest.

CRACK—!!

His ribs caved.

Subaru’s entire body folded inward, air fleeing his lungs in a pained gasp.

He flew—smashed into the ground and skidded, dirt pluming behind him like a jet trail. He crashed through a half-destroyed cottage, splinters and tile erupting as he vanished into the rubble.

But then—

BOOM—!!

He burst free in a spray of debris, flipping mid-air and landing on one knee, bloody and shaking.

“Guhk.. uff...”

Gojo walked forward through the smoke, each step like a drumbeat. Infinity shimmered around him for a moment, an attempt to reactivate it—But it was strained. It glitched. Blood leaked from a temple gash, trailing along his cheek.

But he was still terrifying, without it, weakened. He was still far more powerful than Subaru.

Damn it... he's still so far ahead of me..?

BAM—!!

Suddenly he was there yet again, moving like a white blur. Inches away. Subaru didn’t move in time. Gojo's shoulder rammed into him like a freight train—he was launched, body tearing through trees, branches exploding like cannon blasts until—

CRASH—!!

A massive trunk caught him. More bones cracked, bark shattered, and the whole tree tipped over and fell with a deafening THUD. And yet— He moved. Staggered out. Cursed energy howled from his body, lashing out like a storm of razors, distorting the air.

He screamed—and tackled Gojo with a lunge forward. They tumbled through the village, colliding with a stone wall and toppling it as if it were paper. Each strike was nuclear. Parry after parry, blow after blow.

Then the momentum collapsed, Gojo's spine smashed against a tree mid-tackle. Leaves fell in slow-motion. Subaru’s right hook spun Gojo’s jawline—causing blood to fly in a fine arc.

SWISH-!

"HRAAH!!"
Satoru's neck tilted at the last moment, evading a second blow that tore a hole through the side of the tree behind, eviscerating bark like paper.

Then a counter, Gojo's elbow finding Subaru’s temple—THUD!!—skull met bone, a spray of red and ringing in the air.

Flesh split.

Teeth cracked.

Blood rained.

They separated—just for a moment.

Both breathing heavy.

Both shaking.

Someone must of done something.. Gojo-Sensei would never.. do this.. not in a million years!!

Gojo didn’t speak. Just blurred forward again.

This time—Subaru saw it coming.

He twisted. Caught Gojo’s wrist, then twisted his own body, reeling in Gojo until he slammed a knee into the shoulder joint—POP—!!—then hammered an elbow into the back of Gojo’s neck.

Gojo stumbled—his foot slipped in an attempt to fix his broken stance—

Subaru swept.

GOJO FELL!!

But before Subaru could celebrate—

CRACK—!!

Gojo's foot shattered the ground, as if catching himself through instinct alone before he threw himself forward—and smashed his forehead into Subaru’s face. Everything whited out. Blood splashed outward like a haze.

Then—

SLAM—!!

A palm drove into Subaru’s chest. Red cursed energy ignited like an inferno—

BOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The explosion vaporized the ground.

Subaru’s body rocketed backward, smashing through houses, snapping support beams, dragging a trench through the village roads. Trees fell. Earth lifted. Fire spread where cursed energy scorched wood and roof.

And then silence.

He lay amid broken stone and shattered timber. Barely breathing. Vision fading.

Gojo approached—slow. Detached. Eyes hollow.

He knelt.

Placed his hands around Subaru’s throat.

And began to squeeze.

Subaru tried to gasp.

But no air came.

But even now, he smiled—just faintly.

Good… this is for the better… I’ll come back. I’ll fix this. I’ll save him.

His vision darkened. His limbs twitched.

And then—

Darkness.

Natsuki Subaru died once more, to the hands of the one least expected.

Notes:

Another day, another Subaru death.
Seems like being stronger is making his job even harder at this point.

Chapter 20: Authority.

"…"

Subaru blinked.

The world returned in silence.

The towering outline of the Flugel’s Tree loomed above, its colossal roots curled deep into the land. Light filtered through the branches like divine threads. A breeze passed over his skin. It was warm.

But his chest—his neck—still burned.

Then—

"Yooo... Earth… or well... not Earth, to Subaru?"

Gojo’s voice, casual and familiar, cut through the fog.

Subaru’s eyes snapped toward him—a blur of white hair, that carefree grin, the stupid shades pushed up on his head.

His friend.

Subaru stepped back.

Not even consciously.

His body remembered something his brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

Gojo noticed. A brow rose. Not angry, or trying to kill him, just… confused, concerned.

“Huh.”

Subaru’s breathing stuttered.

Logically, he knew—that wasn’t Gojo. Not truly.  But it didn’t matter. His fingers twitched at his side. His throat throbbed with phantom-pain. He had been choked to death by those same hands. Hands that had taught him to wield cursed energy. To endure.

If only I was stronger.

That single thought struck deep. A bitter chord in his chest.

If he had been strong enough—really strong—Gojo wouldn't have needed to protect them. Emilia wouldn’t have to fight. Rem wouldn’t have had to die—again and again.

And maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t have died there, like trash, like a child.

He clenched his fist.

If you want strength that badly... then just let me in—

Something whispered through the crevices of his mind. Not that feminine voice he had grew to accept, but one that vocally seemed identical to his own, merely more malevolent.

"Dude..?"

Gojo stepped forward, no longer smiling, instead filled with concern as he furrowed his brows.

Subaru’s heart jumped.

He forced himself to look up. To meet that gaze.

All around them, soldiers, villagers, and his companions—Rem, Wilhelm, Felix, Crusch—watched him quietly.

Their eyes held a question: Was he okay?

So Subaru smiled.

A weak, crooked little grin pulled across bloodless lips.

"Sorry about that, heh. I was just doing some thinking, you know?"

Gojo relaxed a bit, though still cautious.

Subaru let out a breath, sharp and unsteady.

He wouldn’t do that.
Gojo. Wouldn’t. Do. That.

And yet—

His fingers still trembled at his side.

Either way, you’re Envious of him… of his strength.
Don’t you just want to be him? Perfection incarnate?

Subaru flinched inwardly, squeezing his eyes shut as if to silence the voice scratching from behind his thoughts.

“Right… where was I, then…”

He walked forward, repeating every word he had spoken in the last loop—exactly. Measured. Careful. As though deviating even slightly might invite catastrophe.

This time he would win.

He’s better than you. Always has been. Always will be.
Not just stronger. He’s a symbol.
He inspires.
You? You rely on them. That’s not Pride. That’s cowardice.

Subaru didn’t answer it. Couldn’t.

But his jaw clenched.

His gaze drifted toward Gojo again—effortlessly calm, still the center of attention. Standing tall even after everything.

You seek strength. So rely on ‘me’. Let me in. Let me lift the weight you pretend you can carry.

Wilhelm stepped forward, eyes grave but warm. His deep voice carved through the tension.

“After your role in slaying the White Whale, and your vital part in avenging my beloved Theresia... I’d walk with you through death and beyond tenfold, Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru blinked.

A beat passed.

And yet—he didn’t smile.

Couldn’t.

His eyes dipped to the ground. His mouth opened—but no words came.

His hand trembled at his side, still holding phantom warmth from Gojo’s fingers around his throat.

“…Right…” he murmured.

A whisper. A rasp.

He forced himself to straighten. Shoulders rising like a marionette on frayed strings.

“Let’s get going, shall we…?”

---

Everything had gone perfectly—just like in the last loop.

Honestly, it was all smooth sailing up until Gojo decided to show up as an enemy in the last loop.

Now, Subaru stood before the mangled corpse of Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti, his body twitching ever so slightly as if refusing to accept death. Not that it mattered. Subaru had crushed him—they had crushed him—alongside Wilhelm and Rem. And frankly, it was easy. Has been for a few loops now.

At this point, Petelgeuse wasn’t a final boss. He was a speed bump. A sick joke. He’d died to everything from Puck’s rage to his own teacher.

Don’t be proud.
You only beat this fractured soul with the help of weaklings… hardly even considerable as a victory.

Rem leaned in, concerned.
“Subaru? Are you alright?”

“…Just fine.”

He lied, of course. But they didn’t need to know.
They didn’t need to worry about someone like him.

You want to be strong, but you reject me.
You want power, but rely on strangers—liabilities—insects.
Cut them loose. Stand alone. Then, and only then... you will understand what it means to be Pride.

“Stop,” Subaru growled.

Or don’t. Keep crawling. Keep pretending. You’re so good at that.

“Enough…”

You hate yourself, and use power as a way to try and satiate that, even if you may know it's inevitable, you want to have purpose... pathetic.

“…Stop…”

Then and only then, is that—

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!!”

His voice cracked through the forest like a gunshot.
Wilhelm froze. Rem stared, startled—concerned.

Then came the silence. The kind that doesn’t just hang in the air… but inside your mind, too.

---

Somewhere Dark...

A silhouette stood, pitch-black and formless, clutching the severed head of Petelgeuse from the previous loop by the hair. The cultist’s face was twisted in eternal agony—frozen in death. Pride tilted his head, resting a hand on his own cheek.

“How tragic...” he said with a smirk. “I wonder if it’s his own pride, or just good old-fashioned stupidity, keeping him from accepting me.”

He tossed the head aside with a casual flick, stretching his limbs with theatrical flair. The fog swirled around his feet, thick and eternal.

Then he walked.

A slow, confident gait through the mist-laden void—an endless dreamscape stitched together from Subaru’s conscience.

Pride tilted his head again, as if chatting with someone beside him.

“Hm? Bullying? Oh, come now—we’re literally the same person.”
“Can’t blame his insanity for creating me. I just came out sharper. Smarter. Stronger.”

He stopped for a moment, standing in total and utter silence before lowering himself to sit, the mist surging and manifesting to take the shape of a chair. 

Pride tilted his head.
"I might not be strong enough to kill someone like you just yet... but you can't kill me either, I am 'Natsuki Subaru' after all.. and you wouldn't ever hurt your beloved, right?"

Silence. Then he leant forward to let out a breath.

“Whatever.. I'm just curious how many times 'I' have to die before finally realizing relying on fodder is not a real means to strength.”

---

Sat in one of the only small buildings still upright within the village, is Natsuki Subaru. Opposite him sits Felix Argyle.

In all honesty, he had zoned out long ago. He already knew what the cat-boy was saying—he'd heard it all before.

Rather, he was focused on something else.

Subaru exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

The voice was gone for now. Whose voice exactly...? He didn’t know, nor did he want to know.

A god? Himself?

He couldn’t tell anymore.

BOOOOOM--!!

From outside, an explosion shook the village to its core. Subaru and Felix both jolted upright.

“W-What’s going on?!”

Subaru didn’t answer. He pivoted in his seat and sprinted out the door.

As he skidded to a halt, he saw him.

Gojo Satoru.

The familiar figure—shirtless, body torn and tattered. But it was his eyes that froze Subaru.

The same as last loop.

Those same eyes that drained the life out of him.

Both Rem and Wilhelm had been blasted away by Red, caught off guard. Of course, why would they ever expect Gojo Satoru, of all people, to attack them?

Subaru took a step back, instinctively. Genuine fear gripped him at the familiar sight.

He had no chance. Not against him. Even weakened.

Tears began to swell in his eyes as he glared at his teacher approaching.

...I don't want to fight you. I didn’t last loop either... but what choice do I have?
I just don’t want to keep dying, damn it…

He took slow, shaking breaths, watching Gojo’s approach—closer, closer with each deliberate step.

In Gojo’s current state, Subaru didn’t doubt that he, alongside Rem and Wilhelm, could probably bring him down.

But two of the three are down.

Pathetic. Pathetic—patheticpatheticpathetic!
You are me, and I am you. So why, for the life of me, can I not understand your thought process?

“....”
Subaru remained silent.

Take your dear teacher—currently seconds away from killing you.
Do you think he’s ever needed anyone to win a fight?
He beats everyone. Barring one... And always—on his own. No help. Because he never asks for it.

“.....”

Where did that get him? ‘The Strongest Sorcerer.’ A ‘Prodigy.’
That is your difference.

Subaru’s eyes drifted downward.

What’s so wrong with relying on others…?

Simple...
That is not PRIDE...
To achieve power, SACRIFICE is required, SELFISHNESS is required.

It’s not fair…

And then, just like before—

The familiar hue of vermillion took shape as an orb of cursed energy, surging before shooting outwards as a colossal blast to completely break Subaru's body from it's overwhelming force.

Subaru didn’t move.

He didn’t cry out, nor try to dodge.

He accepted it. This loop was already a complete and utter failure anyway. 

But then, a pitch-black wall emerged from the ground, travelling upwards like a sheen to block the attack.

It was successful, mostly. The front side of it melting away despite the fact the red's output was weakened.

I am Pride. I am you. But you... you're not even worthy of me yet.
That's the pathetic part.

Then came the pain.

Like a blade to his very soul.

Subaru hit the ground. Vomiting. Writhing in the dirt.

It felt like every part of his body was being endlessly torn apart and then put back together again.

Why was this happening to him?

What did he ever do that was so wrong?

He wants the pain to stop.

It's not fair.

It's not fair.

As if answering Subaru's calls, the pain suddenly began to dissipate massively—

In it's wake, came overwhelming coldness from within his own body, it was so very cold. It felt as if fingertips were gripping his heart, not to cause pain, but to fulfil his wish, as if it didn't want to see him suffer.

Then there was darkness, without pain.

CRUNCH.

---

“Ah...”

His eyes shot open.

The tree loomed above.

The light shimmered again.

And the wind swept over his skin.

It was warm.

But Subaru... wasn’t.

He felt empty. Not hollow, not shaken. Empty—the kind of emptiness that seeps in only after realization.

...

Behold an Unthinkable Present...

He did everything the same. Every word, every step, every breath calibrated to perfection.

And still—he died.

Still—he lost.

To Gojo.

He'll win next time.

Behold an Unthinkable Present...

To the Beast of the End.

He'll win next time.

Behold an Unthinkable Present...

He changed his plan entirely.

Regulus killed him.

He'll.. win next time...

Behold an Unthinkable Present...

Gojo again.

He'll.. win next.. time...

Behold an Unthinkable Present...

Puck.

He'll.. win next... time...?

Behold an Unthinkable Present... Behold an Unthinkable Present... Behold an Unthinkable Present... Behold an Unthinkable Present...

Subaru clutched at his head, staggered backward, breath trembling. His knees buckled—but he didn’t fall.

His body shook, not from fear, but from anger, absolute outrage targeted toward himself, mainly for being so weak.

How many times must you burn before you stop throwing yourself into the fire?

That voice again.

His voice. Clearer now.

It wasn’t whispering anymore.

It was rising—like heat off scorched steel.

There's nothing wrong about putting yourself over others.

A breath.

It's what anyone would do.

Subaru’s vision blurred.

Not from tears. From something else.

The world around him rippled like a pebble against water. Trees stretched wrong. The sky pulsed. Shadows moved even though the light stayed still.

And then—

“Let me show you what it means to stop losing.”

His body twitched—head shooting to the side towards the voice. No longer did it sound like a constant noise from every direction in his head.

Subaru blinked, laying eyes upon a pitch-black silhouette who merely stared back at him, completely ignoring the mist-filled, dark landscape he now finds himself in.

“What’s happening...?”

He heard his voice say it. Felt his lips move.

And in that split second—

He felt something, something evil.

A second heartbeat surged from within his own body.

Heavy. Confident. Syncing with his own.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

“Be more selfish.”

Ba-dum.

“Be more prideful.”

Ba-dum.

“No more weakness.”

Then, with terrifying gentleness—

“I’ll carry it for you.
The burden.
The pain.
The fear.”

“All I ask—”
“—is that you let me take the reins every now and then...”

Subaru didn’t answer.

Because a part of him—the real him—already had.

And in the silence, in that quiet little void behind his consciousness, something smiled.

A grin wide and bright and sharp.
“Let us become Pride.”

---

Subaru opened his eyes again.

The world returned in silence.

His gaze swept across the now-too-familiar scene—Flugel's Tree, towering above like an ancient god carved from time itself. Around him, soldiers stood in a semi-circle, awaiting orders from the boy they had come to follow.

It was almost muscle memory at this point.

Subaru straightened, the same crooked smile stretching across his face.

“The Whale is dead!” he declared, raising his fist high.
“That dumbass fish who haunted these lands for generations—killed friends, family, lovers... is finally gone!”

A cheer erupted.

Soldiers echoed his gesture, fists in the air, roaring in triumph.

Subaru joined the shout, but his voice lacked heat. His heart wasn’t in it.

I’m truly happy for them... but I’ve come to understand something.
For what comes next—they’re not needed.

His eyes shifted subtly, locking onto the one figure who stood slightly apart from the crowd—Gojo Satoru.

Smug grin. Lazy posture. Eyes hidden behind shades and experience.

Just me and Gojo.

No more relying on ants.

Pride’s voice hummed at the edge of his consciousness. Calm. Confident. Close.

Subaru swallowed the guilt. He cherished them—Rem, Crusch, Wilhelm. They were comrades, friends.

But right now?

Right now, what he needed wasn’t love. It was power... over all else, so that those he cherishes wont ever have to die, so that he won't have to die again.

“Gojo-sensei,” Subaru said, voice even. “Can you teleport us to Arlam Village? Or just outside it.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Huh? Bit sudden.”

A pause. Then a nod. “Sure...”

He stepped forward, hand resting lightly on Subaru’s shoulder—and in the blink of an eye, the world blurred. The wind shifted. The trees were gone.

---

Now, they stood on a dirt road bordered by endless green. Familiar. Peaceful. Temporary.

“Why though?” Gojo asked, eyes narrowing.

“The Witch’s Cult,” Subaru replied without hesitation.
“They’ll be attacking the village and mansion soon. I only told Rem—she’s sent word. Everyone should be evacuated.”

Gojo’s expression darkened slightly.
“Mm. Yeah. That sounds... serious.”

Subaru gave a curt nod.

Don’t change what doesn’t need to be changed.

Pride’s voice, again—soft as silk, sharp as steel.

Subaru blinked but said nothing.

“I don’t know when exactly they’ll attack,” he added. “But it’ll be soon. You should get ready.”

Gojo eyed him for a moment longer, his gaze more analytical than usual.
“Y’know... you feel different lately. Not bad. Just... off. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Then, shrugging, he offered a smirk. “But hey. You’ve been on a roll. I’ll trust you.”

With a lazy pivot and a wave over the shoulder, he vanished—blasting off into the forest like a thunderbolt.

Subaru watched him go, lips pressed in a tight line.

Sorry, Sensei.
But after so many loops, I’ve realized the fastest way for you to grow stronger right now.. is to go face to face with death and return.
And if you fail...?
I’ll just redo it until you succeed.

---

THUD—!
CRACK—!
BOOM—!

Explosions rocked the horizon.

Winds howled, even the farthest of trees threatened to snap at their bases from each thunderclap that roared, signaling collision after collison.

Subaru stood still, unmoving, as Gojo and Regulus clashed once more, their battle shaking the world.

Just like last time.
Perfect.

Keep going... until I win.
Until “we” win.

---

Subaru stood in the now-deserted village, the dirt roads eerily quiet beneath the golden afternoon light. The evacuation had gone smoothly—thanks to Rem’s letter and Roswaal supplying the carriages. Everyone was gone.

He exhaled, slow and steady, eyes locked on the treeline beyond the village's edge. No movement. No sound.

But he knew they were there.

After countless deaths, he could just tell. The lingering miasma clinging to his soul was as much a beacon as it was a curse.

"You guys can come out now."
He didn’t yell—but his voice carried.

A beat of silence.

Then the shadows came alive.

Dozens of cultists in tattered black hoods rose from the ground, heads bowed low in servile reverence. Silent. Still. Kneeling like insects at his feet.

It feels good, doesn’t it...?
Although they’re insects, it’s an amusing sight—to see them grovel before you.

Subaru’s lips tightened.

Pride’s voice never left him alone.

"Could you get Sloth over here..? I've got a few words to tell him... as the 'Archbishop of Pride'."

No movement. No noise. Then, one of the cultists wordlessly melted into the earth, disappearing beneath the soil like mist in the wind.

You better know what you’re doing...
'Cause I really don’t wanna die anymore.

You think I’d ask you to do this if I didn’t have a way?
You forget who I am..?

Subaru’s eyes narrowed, fingers curling at his sides.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

He just kept waiting.

And waiting... until—

STEP—STEP—

"A-Ahhh... is it TRULY TRUE?! No... no-no... It must be...! Though the GOSPEL reveals not your visage, the scent, the sting of the Witch’s LOVE clings so DILIGENTLY to your person!"

Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti—slouched, twitching, muttering—the very same creature Subaru had killed more times than he could count. Yet, every time he returned, Subaru still found his presence unbearable.

Wrong.
Wrong even in death.

His limbs jerked and spasmed, neck snapping with unnatural force as he approached—like a broken marionette.

"It… it is a blessed day… but to think... THINK... that despite another taking the seat of Pride, I knew nothing of your existence—!"

With grotesque reverence, Betelgeuse bit into his fingers—deep. Flesh ripped, tendons snapped. Blood poured, teeth grinding against muscle as if in punishment.

"So SLOTHFUL OF MEEE!!"

Subaru winced, but only barely. The mask of tolerance thinned.

"Don’t worry about it... nobody else knows either. As for why I’m here… let’s just say..."
He slipped a hand into his tracksuit.
"My Gospel told me to."

Betelgeuse twitched, head cocked further than any human should endure.

"Truly...? Then you must... show me..."

"Of course. Come closer."

The cultist dragged his broken body across the dirt, each step wet with dripping blood.

Pride... you know what to do...

The voice grinned in his mind.

Then...

The light in his eyes was replaced by something ancient and terrible—galactic purple, deep and endless. Cold and final.

"You think you can just look at me... stand in my presence... not groveling at my feet?"
"Is that not.... Sloth?"

Betelgeuse blinked.

"What... are you—"

"Just die."

From beneath them—pitch-black in physical form erupted like a mouth from the ground around their feet.

A hundred jagged, monstrous teeth spiraled upward, darkness coagulating to Pride's will, dimming the sun like a solar-eclipse.
Eyes—too many to count—opened in every direction, gazing down on Betelgeuse like how a predator stares at prey.

Then—

CRUSH-!

The maw clamped down, devouring both figures whole in a single moment of total void.

Then silence.

When the shadows liquefied and receded into nothing, only Pride remained. Expression blank. Not a drop of blood. Not a trace of Betelgeuse. Not a thread of clothing.

Nothing.

Why didn’t you destroy all the cultists at once? They’re close enough...

Pride chuckled—his chuckle—and turned his head slowly toward the kneeling cultists, eyes glowing like eclipses.

"'Cause... I’m finally taking the wheel here..."

His voice dropped, thick with poison and thrill.

"...and I want to have a bit of fun."

Did you get Betelgeuse for real?

Pride's eyes narrowed. From one of the surrounding cultists, who he imagine Betelgeuse just possessed, dozens of purple arms burst forth—ghostly, wild, howling like banshees. They spiraled toward him like serpents, intent on tearing him apart.

"...No I didn't."
He stepped forward. Hands in his pockets. Not flinching. Not bracing.

The air warped.

"You’re not worthy enough to touch me, fool."
His words were law. Not metaphor. Law.

The arms twisted in the air—and missed their target. All of them.

Not because he dodged. Not because he blocked.
But because they weren’t allowed to touch him.

They slammed into the ground around him with explosive force, uprooting earth, hurling debris to the sky. The ground shattered, forming a massive, smoking ‘V’ at Pride’s feet.

It wasn’t defense.

It was dominance.

No shield. No field. No energy.
Only the truth of his supremacy.

"You... YOU—YOUYOUYOUUU!!"
Betelgeuse's voice howled from a new mouth, one of the cultists twisting into a vessel.
"You DARE?! You DARE stand without LOVE?!"

He flung his arms forward.

"GO, MY FINGERS!!"

Pride's eyes snapped open—twins of seething purple fire—and a wicked grin split across Subaru's face. It was the kind of smile that could make even the most experienced of warriors feel unease. No joy. Only malice.

CRACK—!!

The earth exploded beneath his heel. Stone fractured, dirt shot backward like a cannon blast as his body blurred forward—no wasted motion, only overwhelming speed and control.

The cultists were already rushing in—daggers flying like rain, each one thrown with unerring precision.

And yet—not one struck true.

The air warped around Pride's body, blades curving unnaturally, their trajectories bent as if reality itself refused to let him bleed. One dagger kissed past his cheek—then diverted mid-flight to bury itself harmlessly into the ground.

They weren't worthy.

Pride moved like a demon—graceful and unstoppable. His fist cocked back, knuckles whitening, tendons creaking under tension. Cursed Energy—so dense it pulsed—spiraled around his arm, dripping off like gravity-defying force.

Then—

BOOM—!!

His punch collided with the chest of the first cultist.

Not just force—obliteration.

The blow carved a half-meter tunnel through their torso, everything in its path reduced to vapor and red mist. Bone, sinew, organs—obliterated in a single instant. The cultist’s upper half twisted grotesquely, eyes wide before what remained of their body was thrown like a ragdoll into the crowd.

Another cultist lunged from behind, dagger flashing in a downward arc—an ambush meant to be fatal.

It didn’t matter, Pride's eyes fixed onto the approaching blade as it swung.

The blade's trajectory curved—again—missing by inches, as though pushed by an unseen force.

Pride didn’t fully turn. Instead, he reached behind, fingers clamping around the cultist’s face like a vice.

CRUNCH—CRACK—!!

Bone gave instantly under the grip—skull compressing, eyes bulging as the cultist screamed and flailed in blind terror. Fingers clawed at Pride’s wrist.

Futile.

Darkness surged up his arm like veins pumping liquid void, crawling from elbow to knuckles.

Then his palm—

FWOOSH—!!

A jagged, obsidian spike burst forth from his palm, spearing clean through the cultist’s skull. It didn’t stop there—it split, branched, bloomed outward like a grotesque tree of spears, shredding brain matter and bone as it tore out the back of the head.

The body convulsed—then stilled.

Without ceremony, Pride twisted on his heel, body spinning with balletic elegance. He flung the mutilated corpse like debris—its limbs flailing in the air before slamming into two more cultists behind him with bone-crushing force.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

Pride’s eyes flared brighter—twin amethysts burning with cosmic disdain—as his arms flung wide. His voice cracked with madness, echoing through the shattered village like war drums.

“Heh... GYAHAHAHAH—!!!”

The sky trembled at his laugh.

Then—suddenly—it stopped.

A presence.

A pressure.

His pupils snapped downward. Something gripped his forearm—tight, cold, unseen.

CRACK—!!

A jagged, unnatural bend split his right arm backward with sickening force.

“Tch. Sloth.”

Not a scream. No agony. Just contempt. His brow furrowed, more irritated than wounded, as if the offense itself was beneath him.

How dare a pest bypass both his guard and authority.

His left hand rose without hesitation—calm, slow, deliberate—clamping over the intruding hand.

Darkness surged. Not like shadows—this was living malice, thick and pulsing like liquid muscle. Veins throbbed black across his skin as obsidian energy flooded his arm.

SHNK—! SHNK—! SHNK—!!

Dozens of thin, jet-black spikes burst from the unseen hand and slithered up its length—toward Betelgeuse’s body.

Somewhere in the shadows, Betelgeuse screamed.

The spikes exploded from a nearby cultist’s chest—the one he was hiding inside—reducing the possessed vessel into a writhing, twitching sack of meat pierced from the inside out. Arms dangled like wet cloth as blood sprayed like ink.

Pride’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Shame I can’t kill him for real… fucking spirit. No matter.”

With a flex of will, the broken arm twitched, bones knitting audibly beneath skin—still limp, but no longer facing the wrong direction.

His left hand rose again. Calmly.

Dozens more cultists surged from the treeline, blades held high.

Pride didn’t even look at them. He simply flicked his wrist upward.

THWOOM—!!!

The earth ruptured.

From the cracked soil, black tendrils burst forth like serpents erupting from hell—long, barbed, fluid and fast. They lashed through the air, piercing through cultists mid-charge, lifting their impaled bodies before violently slamming them back down.

Limbs snapped like dry twigs.

Blood rained.

STEP—SWOOSH—!!

A dagger flew from his blind spot—whistling through air.

Pride’s heel slid, pivoting with perfect grace. His back arched, head tilted as the blade missed his throat.

His grin faltered, out of annoyance.

“Learning now, are we…?”

His arm snapped up—CRUNCH!—breaking the cultist’s elbow at the joint with a cruel upward jab. His hand followed, grabbing the attacker by the gut.

From within—

SPLORCH—!!

Dozens of thin, razor-sharp spikes exploded outward from inside the cultist’s body—chest, back, eyes, limbs—splitting muscle and bone in a single, horrific burst. Their body trembled for a beat—then collapsed inward, limp and hollow.

Pride didn't slow. He didn't need to.

His hand extended to the side, palm flat.

The ground responded.

A vertical spike of obsidian burst upward, twisting and coiling into an elongated sword as it formed—long, jagged, and pulsing with malevolence.

He grabbed it with practiced ease—an executioner reclaiming his axe.

He exhaled, low and casual.

“…It’s been fun playing with you insects.”

He raised the blade, dark edge poised forward, facing Betelgeuse and what remains of the Cultists.

“…but I’m done pretending you’re interesting.”

Notes:

Apologies for the delay. Had to rewrite the entire chapter cause it got deleted for whatever reason, that wasn't fun.

Chapter 21: Respite.

Pride stood tall, posture loose but unnervingly confident. The elongated, ink-black blade hummed faintly in his grip, its jagged edges pulsating like a living thing. One hand clamped around the hilt, fingers flexing with anticipation. His stance wasn’t elegant—sloppy, even—but raw power and arrogance bled from every inch of his frame.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, that predatory grin curling across his face.

“Precision? Tch… Giants don’t need finesse to crush ants.”

His voice barely carried beyond a murmur—but the intent beneath it rippled through the air like a sickness.

SWOOSH—

The ground shattered beneath his feet as Pride vanished—blurring forward with such force the earth caved in behind him, a concussive boom rippling outward as a shockwave.

The nearest cultist didn’t even have time to react.

The onyx blade carved a vicious, upward diagonal arc, slicing clean through flesh and bone—from hip to opposite shoulder. Blood fanned across the air in a grotesque spray, the cultist’s body folding in half like a broken doll.

CLANG—!

Pride didn’t pause—already pivoting into the next threat.

A dagger sparked harmlessly off his blade as he batted it aside with contemptuous ease. His counterstrike was surgical—a ruthless lunge straight through the cultist’s throat. Choked gurgles barely escaped their lips before black thorns erupted violently from every inch of their body—spiking outward in jagged, twisted shapes, shredding flesh from within.

More approached. Their faces painted with enraged looks, their movements slow, but erratic.

But it didn’t matter.

The first swung wildly—only for their dagger to veer off course, the very air around Pride warping to deny the strike. Confusion flared in their eyes… before the world inverted entirely.

A severed head tumbled through the air.

Before it could hit the ground, Pride’s blade was already carving clean through the second cultist, bisecting them from groin to skull with one effortless, sweeping stroke.

Their corpse slid apart, a cascade of crimson staining the dirt as they hit the ground with a wet, sickening squelch.

Pride exhaled, casually adjusting his grip on the blade, eyes still gleaming with detached cruelty.

“I told you… I’m getting tired of this game.”

The battlefield stilled for a moment, only the sounds of dripping blood and distant whimpers filling the air.

“But I suppose… if you want to be butchered that badly… who am I to deny you?”

The ground was soaked in blood—slick, glistening, and littered with mutilated corpses. Limbs scattered like broken dolls. Entrails dangled from rooftops. The stench of iron clung to the air like fog. To anyone else, it would be a nightmare.

For Pride, it was home.

The next cultist barely had time to scream. The ground beneath them twisted unnaturally as inky darkness spiraled up like smoke. Jagged, obsidian teeth erupted from the shadows, slamming shut around the fanatic's leg with a sickening crunch. Bone shattered, muscle tore. The body collapsed forward in a pitiful heap of agony—

Right onto the tip of Pride's waiting blade.

The ebony sword plunged clean through, the cultist's body twitching and convulsing as it slid down to the hilt, crimson pooling at Pride's feet.

Above, wind surged. A colossal, spectral hand—pulsing with Betelgeuse's twisted essence—ripped through the air, barreling down toward Pride, intending to devastate.

SWOOSH—

Pride didn't flinch. His grip tightened. A brutal, horizontal slash cleaved through another approaching cultist, blood spraying in a wide arc.

His gaze snapped skyward, cold and unbothered as the monstrous hand descended.

"Fool."

CRAAASH—!!

Stone and dirt exploded upward, smoke billowing in thick clouds. The impact crater groaned beneath the weight of the phantom limb.

But Pride stood untouched within the wreckage.

The enormous fingers twitched—hesitated—moving narrowly mid-descent as if the very laws of existence denied them the right to touch him.

"You got lucky once.." Pride spat, stepping casually onto the massive arm. "But luck isn't enough to harm me, twice."

"WHY—?! WHYWHYWHY!! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE—!!"

Betelgeuse's voice shrieked from below, maddened, broken.

Pride sprinted up the spectral forearm, his figure a shadowy streak against the purple glow. With a leap, he launched himself into the air, his sword dissolving into mist.

His hand extended—palm wide, authority surging.

FWOOOM—!

A jagged spike of abyssal blackness burst forth, snaking down like a spear of unholy punishment. It pierced Betelgeuse clean through, thinner tendrils lashing outward, skewering his limbs and pinning him midair like a grotesque marionette.

"Ugghh… guh—"
Betelgeuse choked, blood pouring from his mouth, his body held aloft by the merciless tendrils.

Pride landed soundlessly a few meters away, approaching with deliberate calm.

A flick of his wrist—SNAP!
The tendrils yanked savagely, ripping an arm clean from its socket.

Another flick—CRACK!
The second arm followed, flesh and bone torn as easily as paper.

Standing within arm's reach, Pride's expression twisted into a smirk that oozed arrogance.

"Satella despises you, by the way.."

Betelgeuse's eyes widened, blood mixing with bile.
"Wha—"

CLEAVE—!

The ebony blade materialized in Pride's grip. A single, merciless vertical slash severed the Archbishop's head from his shoulders. The body fell limp, strings of Pride's darkness dissipating like smoke in the wind.

The village was silent now.

Only ruin remained—bodies, limbs, organs painting the streets red.

Pride exhaled, the blade vanishing. The shadows ebbed away as he relinquished control.

Subaru's eyes fluttered open, returning to their more human hue.

The carnage around him hit like a punch to the gut. The stench of blood, the twisted bodies—it sickened him. But beneath the disgust… there was something else.

Satisfaction.

Pride's useful… terrifying… but useful.

A faint whisper clawed at the back of his mind. Betelgeuse's presence trying to cling on, lingering like a foul aftertaste. But it dulled… faded… until silence returned.

And then—

SWOOSH—

Footsteps. Fast.

Satoru Gojo emerged from the treeline—shirtless, body streaked with dried blood, cerulean eyes wide with uncharacteristic shock.

"Ugh… dude… what the hell did you—"
Gojo's voice faltered as he took in the scene. His gaze shifted from the corpses to Subaru's blood-streaked form.

"I cleaned up." Subaru's voice was flat. Detached. "They deserved it."

Gojo's brows furrowed. His usual cocky expression giving way to unease.

"Yeah, but… didn't know you had this in you..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Subaru shrugged, deep in thought.
This loop went faster… better, even when I was fighting these guys with the soldiers, Wilhelm and Rem.

And if things went south again…
He'd just let Pride off the leash again.

His eyes met Gojo's.

"You got enough juice left to teleport us to Flugel's Tree?" Subaru asked. "Emilia, Petra… and most of the villagers are headed to wherever the sanctuary is.. We’ll catch up.. even if she might not wanna see me."

Gojo sighed, cracking his neck.

"Yeah… guess so."

“But what to do... I can’t exactly show up to Emilia-tan drenched head-to-toe in blood!” Subaru muttered, glancing down at his crimson-stained clothes, expression caught somewhere between sheepish and exasperated.

Gojo snorted, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Now that sounds more like the Subaru I remember.”

SWOOSH—

Space warped, the air folding in on itself as the pair vanished, the world stitching itself back together in their absence.

---

Near Flugel’s Tree…

Reality snapped into place, depositing them at the base of the colossal, ancient tree. Its massive, gnarled branches stretched into the sky like skeletal fingers, looming over the battlefield.

Subaru barely had time to get his bearings before Gojo tensed beside him, his playful demeanor fading.

“There’s trouble… Wilhelm’s holding them off, but it’s crawling with cultists. And the refugees from the village… they’re caught up in this too.”

Subaru’s jaw clenched as his eyes strained toward the distant commotion, though he could barely make out shapes in the chaos.

“Right—”

Gojo cut him off with a nod, already reading his mind.

“You go find your little crush. Smooth things over. I’ll lend Wilhelm a hand… not that the old man needs it, but hearts and flowers aren’t really my thing.”

---

On the Battlefield…

Steel sang through the air as Wilhelm sliced clean through a charging cultist, blood trailing behind the arc of his blade. Another fanatic fell, and another—the old swordsman a blur of lethal precision.

But the swarm was relentless.

A cultist broke through the defensive line, sprinting toward the vulnerable carriages along the dirt trail where villagers cowered.

CRUNCH—!

Gojo dropped from the sky like a meteor, boot slamming down onto the cultist’s spine with bone-shattering force. The ground cracked beneath the impact. With a casual hop, he stepped off the twitching corpse and raised a hand.

“Yo, old man!”

Wilhelm dispatched another enemy with a single, surgical stroke before turning, eyes narrowing at Gojo’s shirtless form. Although there were no blood anymore, it was obvious to tell that he's been through quite the battle.

“You’re alive.” Wilhelm observed, slicing apart a lunging cultist without so much as glancing their way.

“Barely, but yeah.” Gojo replied with a lopsided grin, leaning back to let a dagger whistle harmlessly past before greeting the attacker with a backhand that launched them across the field like a ragdoll. “That Archbishop nearly sent me packing… but hey, I picked up a few new tricks 'cause of it, right now I'm exhausted as hell though..”

Wilhelm allowed himself a rare smirk, his sword flashing again to disarm and impale two more enemies in a seamless motion.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Facing down an Archbishop… and Regulus Corneas, no less. Most men wouldn’t walk away from that.”

Gojo’s brow arched mid-swing as his fist collided with another fanatic, sending them sprawling.

“Regulus? You know him?”

Wilhelm’s expression darkened, eyes narrowing.

“Few do. His existence isn’t exactly public knowledge… but certain nobles occasionally whisper about him. I know of him because of what happened in Vollachia, years ago. He slayed a powerful combatant that I myself had the honor of battling.”

“Vollachia…” Gojo echoed, voice trailing with suspicion. “I can see how he's able to just walk into a kingdom and start throwing hands, he is literally untouchable after all.”

Another cultist lunged. Gojo’s hand snapped up, fingers flaring with blue light as the attacker was crushed mid-air by an invisible force.

Wilhelm’s gaze flickered over Gojo’s display, watching the mangled corpse spiral through the air like discarded trash.

“Such peculiar magic… truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen before..” the old swordsman remarked, voice low with quiet curiosity.

Gojo smirked, casually flicking his wrist as if it were all child’s play.

“Right? I am pretty amazing, I know.”

A chuckle escaped Wilhelm as his sword lowered slightly.

“And Subaru… is he alright?”

Gojo shrugged. His grin softened, though his eyes hinted at quiet concern.

“…I think? He’s a bit different than before. But hey, still practically foaming at the mouth for Emilia, so… can’t be that bad.”

“That’s… certainly an analogy..” Wilhelm mused with a small shake of his head.

---

Several Hours Later…

The steady rumble of wheels and the rhythmic clatter of ground-dragon hooves filled the air as the convoy of carriages rolled along the dirt path.

In the back of one such carriage, Gojo snored loudly, sprawled against the side, limbs tangled awkwardly as he dozed—unbothered by the gaggle of Arlam Village children surrounding him like kittens.

Subaru sat nearby, his eyes trailing over Gojo, the faintest frown on his lips.

Pride hasn’t said a word… not since I let him out way back at the village. Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing though.

He glanced toward Emilia, seated peacefully, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she smiled with her eyes closed.

But at least things are… normal. We’ve finally made it past that loop. I’ve fixed things with Emilia-tan. Just… stay quiet now, world. Please.

His thoughts were interrupted as a small pair of arms wrapped around his own. He glanced down to find Petra clinging to him, pouting defiantly.

“Umm… aren’t you a bit close, Petra?” Subaru asked, brow arching.

Petra puffed her cheeks.

“Well, she had you all to herself earlier… and that’s not fair! I couldn’t even spend time with Gojo ‘cause he’s snoring like he's never slept a day in his life!”

Emilia flustered, waving her hands.

“It’s not like that, Petra! Subaru and I… w-we had important things to discuss, yes!”

Petra’s eyes narrowed with playful determination.

“I’m not gonna lose to you, hear me?”

Subaru kept his expression as neutral as possible, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“Emilia-tan, don’t stress… she’s just a kid.”

“Even so… I refuse to be so lackadaisical about this!” Emilia declared with unexpected fire.

Subaru blinked, utterly caught off guard.

“Who… who the hell even says ‘lackadaisical’ anymore?!”

Petra smirked victoriously. “Now you’re teasing her!”

Subaru laughed, finally surrendering as he raised his hands.

“Alright, alright—sorry! No teasing, I promise.”

Reaching out, he ruffled Petra’s hair gently.

“I almost forgot… thanks for sticking with Emilia-tan while I was gone. You made sure she wasn’t alone, right..? Oh and you thanked Gojo-Sensei right?”

Petra’s playful demeanor softened, her eyes drifting to the floor.

“Of course… I… I really thought he was gone for a second back there against that.. man… but… he was some how fine thankfully…”

Subaru chuckled, patting her head again.

“Yeah… that’s Sensei for you! Guy’ll just pull off stuff that makes no sense like it’s nothing!”

His smile faltered as his thoughts drifted.

“…Right, and… Rem. I need to tell you something she said, Emilia...!!”

Emilia’s eyes widened, sitting upright.

“Rem…?”

Subaru hesitated for a moment, then exhaled.

“She... she told me she loved me! The same way… the same way I told you!”

Silence lingered, the carriage rocking gently.

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

:)

 

Emilia’s expression softened, surprise fading into quiet warmth.

“Rem… did she really…?” she whispered.

Subaru nodded.

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”

To his surprise, Emilia giggled softly.

“Even I noticed… the way she looked at you sometimes. I’m not upset at all.”

Subaru’s jaw slackened slightly.

“O-oh…?”

Before the awkwardness could deepen, a familiar voice cut through.

“Just makes me wonder what’s so special about you, huh?” Gojo’s voice hummed in mock suspicion, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Maybe you’re secretly releasing pheromones or something to attract all the cute ones.”

Subaru clicked his tongue, smirking.

“Nope. It’s just my unparalleled, devastating handsomeness.”

Gojo slid off his sunglasses with exaggerated flair, flicking his hair back.

“Y’know who you’re saying that to, right?”

Subaru scowled playfully, covering his eyes to block away the light.

“Guh… unfair comparison…”

Gojo shrugged dramatically, smug as ever.

“Life’s unfair, I'm Satoru fricking Gojo after all.”

Subaru chuckled, then glanced toward the front of the carriage.

Gojo's usual grin faltered for a brief moment as he cupped a hand over his eye, leaning back with a sigh.

“They really don’t make sunglasses in this world, huh…? Regulus shattered the only pair in existence. Guess it’s blindfold life for me or something unless I wanna go blind from eyeburn.”

Suddenly, he pushed himself to his feet, drawing the attention of Subaru, Emilia, and Petra.

“You’re both heading back to the mansion, right?”

Subaru tilted his head. “Well…”

Gojo cut him off with a raised hand.

“C’mon, neither of you know where this so-called Sanctuary actually is. I sure as hell don’t. So, step one. Go to Roswaal, ask questions, maybe get a roadmap or something.”

He waved off their puzzled looks. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Wow, Gojo, can you read minds now?’ Relax, I don’t. You two are just incredibly predictable.”

Subaru blinked, deadpan. “Uuuuuh… I think you’ve seriously overestimated the depth of my thought process. I didn’t even have a plan yet.”

“Eh?” Gojo paused, blinking at him.

Emilia stifled a giggle, covering her mouth. “Still… it’s probably a good idea to stop by the mansion first anyway.”

Gojo shrugged lazily. “See? Smart girl. Meanwhile, I’ve been dodging royal candidate work since day one. Even Reinhard’s probably getting fed up with me.”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… so… you’re just leaving?”

“Well, yeah. I’m wiped. Even after that nap… Regulus really drained me.” Gojo tapped his chin, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Besides, what are the odds of a third Sin Archbishop showing up, right? You handled Sloth and a cultist massacre on your own. Pretty impressive, even without these fancy eyes of mine, it’s obvious you've somehow gotten way stronger super fast.”

Emilia’s eyes widened. Her head snapped toward Subaru. “Wait… what?!”

Subaru grimaced. “Ugh… look, if anyone deserved to get minced, it was Betelgeuse. I did the world a favor.”

Gojo clapped his hands together with a grin. “No arguments here. Anyway… might pop back later. Try not to die in the meantime.”

“Gojo-sen—!”

SWOOSH.

He vanished before Subaru could finish the sentence.

“Damn it…”

---

The Astrea Estate—Gojo’s Room

A familiar ceiling greeted him as Gojo materialized in his spacious room at the Astrea estate. He barely made it two steps before collapsing face-first onto the bed.

“Oh man… I’ve never been pushed that hard before… not even by that flying whale…”

Raising a hand toward the ceiling, his fingers curled into empty space.

“It’s kinda exciting, though… Ah…”

A mischievous grin spread as he counted under his breath.

“Three… two… one—”

CREEEAK.

The door swung open—but not to reveal who he was expecting.

Instead, a pair of pink-haired twin girls stepped inside, their expressions perfectly neutral as they bowed in unison.

“We’ve been assigned as your maids by Lady Carol. It is a pleasure to meet you, Satoru-sama.”

Gojo sat upright, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“You’re… not Reinhard… also Carol..? that menacing lady..?”

The twins remained silent, exchanging a brief glance before one of them spoke with unnerving calm.

“It appears Satoru-sama has both a foul mouth and… questionable fashion sense.”

“I concur, sister.”

Gojo’s gaze drifted down to his tattered clothes, courtesy of his recent encounters. His eye twitched.

“Oi, the way I dress is normally peak style, thank you very much. It’s not my fault some overpowered creep shredded my outfit!”

A realization settled in, making him groan as he dragged a hand down his face.

This is seriously deja vu. What is it with this world and assigning twin maids who are also kinda rude?

He lifted a hand, pointing lazily at them.
“Either of you got names?”

They nodded in unison.
“I am Flam.”
“I am Grassis.”

Gojo’s eye twitched.
“Even my eyes have limits… I’m gonna mix those up constantly.”

The twins exchanged a glance, their expressions blank as ever, before raising their arms in eerie sync, both pointing toward the desk.
“By Reinhard-sama’s order...” Flam began.
“All long-overdue work has been left for your immediate attention.” Grassis finished.

A piece of Gojo’s soul visibly shattered as he dragged himself off the bed, shoulders slumped, shuffling toward the desk like a condemned man.
Flipping through the papers, he muttered under his breath.
“Standard noble garbage… taxes… aaand—”
He paused, lifting a stack of identical letters.
“Proposals for marriage?”

Without hesitation, he chucked the entire pile into the bin.
“Well, that cuts the workload in half.”

The twins bowed once more.
“If you need anything—”
“We will assist at any time.”

With that, they departed, leaving Gojo alone with his thoughts… and paperwork.

He stared at the desk for a long second.
“This blows… should’ve stayed with Subaru… anyway—shower time.”

---

A Little While Later...

Gojo strolled through the grand halls, hands clasped casually behind his head as he hummed a carefree tune under his breath.

BUMP-

A shoulder clipped against his, halting his step. His eyes snapped open, landing on a head of familiar crimson hair… though the resemblance ended there.

The disheveled uniform, unsteady stance, and half-empty bottle dangling from the man’s hand were less heroic knight and more washed-up tavern regular.

“Oi… watch where you’re going, kid,” the man slurred.

Gojo blinked, nose twitching faintly as he eyed the bottle.
Reinhard if his life took a swan dive off a cliff… and that’s definitely alcohol…

He remembered hearing whispers about Reinhard’s family issues… and judging by the state of this guy, they weren’t exaggerated.

Isn’t he supposed to be the leader of this place? Surprised it’s not in flames already…

“You bumped into me, old man,” Gojo replied flatly.

The man’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the bottle.
“Do you know who I am? Patriarch of this estate… Deputy Commander of the Royal Guard… I could have you tossed into a dungeon in seconds.”

Gojo chuckled, leaning in ever so slightly, towering over him with casual ease.
“Riiight… somehow, I doubt that.”

He watched Heinkel’s hand drift toward the hilt of his sword. Gojo’s expression didn’t waver.
He wasn’t looking for a fight—the guy was Reinhard’s father—but he wasn’t about to get bullied either. Not by a drunk with an ego.

Before things could escalate, a familiar flash of red and white appeared between them. A hand shot out, stopping Heinkel’s reaching hand with quiet authority.

“That’s enough, Father,” Reinhard’s voice cut in, calm yet razor-sharp.

Heinkel sneered. “Reinhard…”

“You clearly don’t understand who you’ve just threatened,” Reinhard continued, unflinching.
“This man is an honored guest of House Astrea, and the one I, myself, serve as a Knight—Satoru Gojo, Fifth Royal Candidate.”

“Kgh—”

“I won’t tolerate anyone threatening my Lord. Family or not.”

A hand clapped down on Reinhard’s shoulder. Gojo leaned forward, grinning.
“Appreciate the backup, buddy… but honestly, this guy couldn’t lay a scratch on me if he tried. And hey, wouldn’t wanna make your family drama worse… that’d be bad friend etiquette, right?”

For a split second, Reinhard’s eyes widened in surprise—before a genuine smile cracked through his composed expression.

Gojo threw an arm around Reinhard’s shoulders, steering him down the hallway.
“C’mon, lemme tell you what went down while I've been out… so Subaru, right—”

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared around the corner, leaving Heinkel glaring after them, jaw tight, grip still clenched around the bottle.

“Tsk…”

---

A Few Days Later…

CRACK—!!

The ground split beneath them as their fists collided, the shockwave detonating outward like a cannon blast, rattling the very bones of the earth.

Chunks of shattered stone and debris blasted skyward—then froze, suspended mid-air. Not by magic. Not by authority. But by pure, uncompromising speed. Two monsters—one man clad in untouchable arrogance, the other a walking, breathing legend—trading blows faster than the world could register.

“HYAAGH—!!”

Gojo surged in, purple coat whipping violently, footwork immaculate—his fist rocketed forward, a blur aimed to cave in Reinhard’s ribs like a battering ram of cursed energy.

SWOOSH-!

A single palm met his strike. Precise. Surgical. Reinhard’s expression didn’t so much as flicker as he parried the blow aside, the air rippling with the redirected force.

In one seamless motion, his leg coiled beneath him—muscle, tendon, and divine favor winding tight—before snapping upward like a spring aimed square for Gojo’s ribcage.

SWISH—!

Gojo’s frame twisted mid-air, barely evading the strike. But the raw pressure alone—air displaced by Reinhard's impossible power—blasted Gojo backward, boots grinding trenches into the stone beneath him.

But Gojo wasn’t idle.

His hand flicked—Blue.

The world twisted. Space itself howled as an unseen gravitational pull yanked sideways—an invisible, crushing hook aimed for Reinhard’s center of mass.

"!?"

For the first time, Reinhard’s eyes widened—not fear, but calculation—as his balance wavered, momentum ripping him off the ground.

But the Sword Saint was no stranger to the impossible.

Mid-air, his body contorted with inhuman grace—spinning, twisting, reclaiming his footing before landing beside a jagged stone spire.

CRACK—!

Gojo was already there, appearing out of thin air like a phantom. His fist roared toward Reinhard’s jaw—blinding, flawless, ruthless.

Reinhard’s gaze sharpened. His hand darted up, effortless, catching the strike and redirecting it wide—a masterclass of restraint and technique.

But Gojo wasn’t finished.

His other arm weaved beneath like a serpent, fingers glowing with condensed crimson energy. His smile widened.

   “Red.”

Point-blank, the explosion erupted—raw, destructive force unleashing like a miniature supernova—racing toward Reinhard's chest with nowhere to run.

But Reinhard moved with terrifying serenity, impossibility.

His back arched unnaturally—graceful, effortless—the crimson blast grazing inches past him, obliterating a chunk of wasteland in its wake. The earth howled as it was vaporized.

Reinhard landed. One foot. Then the other. His stance rippled with poised violence. Muscles bunched. Divine strength coiled into his frame like a drawn bowstring.

BOOM—!

The Sword Saint launched—bullet-speed, a blur of raw physicality and divine favor, closing the gap in less than a heartbeat.

Gojo's eyes widened, grin stretching in disbelief, heart thundering like a war drum.

“You've gotta be—”

CRACK—!!

Reinhard was there—fist chambered, divine energy rippling off his form like a wildfire poised to swallow the world whole.

A crater carved into the earth, jagged and deep, debris of every size still tumbling through the air like the laws of gravity were holding their breath. A colossal plume of smoke surged skyward, blotting out the sun in a grey, rolling curtain.

Then—silence. Several long seconds passed, the world frozen in quiet awe.

The smoke finally began to thin.

At the center stood Gojo, hand squared against Reinhard's fist, his arm trembling under the sheer, monstrous weight behind the blow—but holding.

"Wheeww..."
Gojo exhaled sharply, stepping back before letting himself drop onto the ground, legs folding beneath him as he fell into a sitting position, chest heaving faintly.

"Every time I think I've gotten stronger… you just blow me out of the damn water entirely. How much you hold back this time?"

Reinhard offered that effortless, unshakable smile as he too sat down across from Gojo, unruffled as ever.

"You are… possibly the strongest person I’ve faced," Reinhard admitted. "Or… perhaps the second. It's not a fair comparison… with him, I wielded the Dragon Sword Reid."

Gojo's brow lifted, interest sparking.
"Oh? And who's 'him'?"

Reinhard's smile deepened, a quiet laugh escaping him.
"Cecilus Segmunt… A swordsman with skill and speed greater than my own."

Gojo blinked.
"Seriously? You're not screwing with me?"

Reinhard shook his head solemnly.
"It surprised me as well. The Dragon Sword Reid… is the greatest weapon in this world. But it only allows itself to be wielded against an adversary it deems worthy."

Gojo’s grin returned, that cocky gleam slipping back into his eyes as he leaned in slightly.
"Oh? And does your fancy sword consider me—"

Another voice cut through the air, sharp as glass.

"Gojo-sama…"

The blood drained from Gojo’s face, his body tensing like a schoolkid caught red-handed.
His eyes snapped toward the source.

"..Carol-"

She stood there, that sickly sweet, practiced smile curling her lips—but her eyes were anything but friendly.

"There you are," Carol chimed softly. "I’ve been wondering where my… pupil vanished to."

Gojo grimaced, an audible gulp escaping.
"Ah… Carol… listen, about that—"

"Come now." Her tone cut through his protests like a scalpel. "We still have etiquette to work on."

Gojo visibly deflated, soul cracking under the sheer weight of noble nonsense.
"Uuugh… But—"

Carol deadpanned. A single, chilling blink.

Gojo raised his hands in defeat, dragging himself to his feet with a long, drawn-out groan.
"Fiiine… Hey, Reinhard—spar again tomorrow?"

Reinhard, polite as ever, nodded.
"It would be my honor.."

Notes:

Finally moved on from Betelgeuse and Regulus, crazy I know...

Chapter 22: Gluttony and Bowel Hunter.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A gentle finger pressed against Gojo’s cheek, stirring him from his slumped position over the desk, eyes bleary as they cracked open.

"Ah—Grassis—!"

The pink-haired maid deadpanned.
"It’s Flam."

Gojo winced.
"…That’s what I said. What brings you here, Flam? I was having one hell of a dream, y'know."

She bowed slightly, expression unreadable.
"There’s a boy… calls himself Natsuki Subaru. He claims to know you. It… seemed important."

Gojo sat up, blinking blearily, his grin returning—then faltering.
"Subaru? That guy can't go four days without finding me, can he?"

He pushed himself up, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth as he stretched.

---

Moments later, Gojo’s eyes settled on Subaru across the courtyard—and the easy grin vanished entirely.

The boy looked… rough. Tired. Hair disheveled, shoulders sagging, face drawn and pale. No hint of that usual, stubborn smile.

"Gojo-sensei…"
Subaru’s voice was hoarse, desperate. "I… I need you to come with me. Now. It's… it's important."

Gojo raised a brow, glancing to Ram. The maid simply nodded, acknowledging Gojo's existence with that same indifferent calm.

"Well… if it means ditching etiquette lessons…" Gojo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Count me in.."

Subaru's expression cracked, a faint glimmer of relief flickering through the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Can you teleport two people… and Patrasche?"

"Ahh… the dragon…" Gojo muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Probably not. Two people’s my limit right now… three at most if they're humanoid, but a ground dragon? Bit much."

Gojo’s hand brushed against Patrasche's snout, the ground dragon huffing softly in acceptance, her eyes tilting toward Subaru.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Gojo asked.

Subaru's expression hardened, shadows clinging to his face.

"The mansion," he rasped. "It… it's going to be attacked."

Gojo's eyes sharpened. Even Ram's brow twitched, subtle concern slipping through.

"Barusu?" Ram asked, voice cool but edged with curiosity. "And you’re only mentioning this now?"

"Sorry… sorry…" Subaru fumbled, eyes flickering with frustration.

Gojo frowned, reading between the lines—the clenched fists, the haunted look behind Subaru's eyes, the weight of unspoken truths.

"And you can’t say how you know this, right?"

Subaru shook his head.

Gojo exhaled, gaze flicking briefly to Ram, who stood silent but observant, before looking back to Subaru.

"It's… too much for you, Ram, and Emilia to stop?"

Subaru’s face darkened, a storm of emotions—anger, despair, guilt—rolling behind his eyes. His lips pressed tight, teeth grinding faintly.

I can’t rely on Pride this time, The last loop… I let him off the leash…

Petra’s bloodied face. Frederica’s twisted corpse. Ram… Ram's lifeless eyes. All of them.

Because of him. Because he trusted Pride to fight the attackers… and instead unleashed a massacre on them, blindly assuming that his 'alter-ego' followed the same moral code as himself like a fool.

Subaru clenched his fists.

"Subaru," Gojo’s voice cut in, steady and sure. "I’ll come."

Subaru’s eyes widened, shoulders sagging under the immense weight. His teeth pressed together, the faintest tremble running through him.

"…Thank you."

---

The forest tore past them in streaks of green and grey, the rhythmic pounding of Patrasche’s claws carving through the earth like gunfire.

Gojo leaned sideways, one arm braced on the ground dragon's back, the other loosely draped around Ram’s waist as she sat tense and flustered in his lap.

His eyes, normally gleaming with mischief, sharpened to cold, calculating slits.

Through the thinning trees, Roswaal's mansion emerged—tall, pristine… yet cloaked in eerie silence beneath the bruised purple sky.

And then—

His expression broke. A subtle twitch, eyes widening, jaw tightening.
"Shit."

Ram’s crimson gaze snapped to him.
"What did you sense?" Her tone clipped, controlled—but there was an edge of concern.

Subaru’s heart stuttered.
"What? What is it?!"

Gojo didn't respond.

He vanished. One moment beside them—the next, space rippled and collapsed where he had been, a faint shimmer of distorted air in his place.

Ram, caught off-guard, tumbled slightly before steadying herself on Patrasche’s back, her expression unreadable.

Subaru gritted his teeth.
"Hold on tight, Ram—!"
He urged the ground dragon forward, faster, faster—the mansion drawing closer with every heartbeat.

---

Inside The Mansion...

Frederica stood tall, fangs bared, the muscles in her jaw tight with restrained fury.

Across the room, shadows pooled unnaturally near the doorway—and from them, Elsa Granhiert emerged. The Bowel Hunter. Her obsidian dagger gleamed wickedly as it pressed against Petra's fragile neck.

Tears welled in Petra's eyes, her small frame quivering in terror beneath Elsa’s iron grip.

Elsa’s smile curled wider—serpentine, grotesque. Her eyes flicked across the room, scanning, calculating.

"Hmph… seems they aren't here yet."
She chuckled, running her tongue across her lips. "Maybe we over-prepared for one little tiger."

The dagger pressed closer to Petra's skin, a faint line of crimson beginning to form.

Frederica's golden eyes narrowed, voice level yet burning beneath the surface.
"We?"
She bought time, every second crucial.

Elsa’s grin sharpened, dangerous and knowing.
"Yes… we—"

Her eyes flew wide.

Instinct screamed. Move—now.

Too late.

CRACK—!

A foot exploded against Elsa's ribcage, the sound of impact like a cannon blast echoing through the hall.

Her body was airborne before the pain could even register—hurtling across the room, smashing clean through the wall with a spray of shattered wood and plaster.

WHAM—!

She crashed into a distant stone pillar in the next room over, the structure spiderwebbing with cracks as her body crumpled to the floor.

Silence.

Petra's wide, tear-streaked eyes turned, hair whipping in the lingering gust of displaced air.

There he stood.

Gojo Satoru. Coat flared behind him, one hand lazily tucked into his pocket, the other flashing a casual thumbs-up.

"The one and only."

The teasing grin faltered as his eyes snapped to Frederica—expression flattening into cool professionalism.

"Maid—get the kid and go."
His voice dropped lower, no-nonsense, steel beneath velvet.
"I’ve got Miss Organ Thief covered."

Frederica hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, then nodded curtly, scooping Petra into her arms.

Elsa's groan echoed from the next room as debris shifted.

Gojo cracked his neck, body shifting outward into a stance, both fists clenched and shoulders squared, weight distributed perfectly.

“Now… where were we?”

The haze of smoke through the shattered wall twisted unnaturally—and then—

WHIP—!

A dagger carved through the air, slicing at neck-breaking speed. Its silver surface caught the faint moonlight seeping through the broken window, arcing straight for Gojo’s throat.

It stopped.
An inch from impact—caught, frozen in space.

Gojo exhaled, unimpressed, raising his hand casually to pluck the dagger from the air with two fingers, flicking it aside like a discarded twig.

“Tch… seems like you don’t learn.”
His eyes glinted, sharp as glass.
“Dagger didn’t work last time. Won’t now.”

A sultry, twisted laugh echoed through the rubble.

From the mist, Elsa Granhiert stepped forward—body swaying, posture relaxed, like a predator stalking prey.

Not a scratch on her.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, analyzing.
"Unharmed..."

“Ahhh~ only that Vollachian General could hurt me to such a degree in a single blow before…”
She rolled her neck, cracking vertebrae, dark eyes shimmering with hunger.
“You've grown since our last meeting... but so have I.”

Her tongue darted along her lips, face flushing with anticipation.
“But your bowels… they must be even more tantalizing now… I want them glistening on the floor…”

Gojo grimaced, disgust twisting his expression.
“Yeah, see— that’s the part where this conversation dies.”

His senses tingled—danger to his right.

BOOM—!

The door beside him exploded inward, shards of wood and splinters launching across the room like shrapnel.

A figure blurred in—long hair trailing like a shadow, dual short swords flashing in both hands, one aimed precisely at Gojo's midsection.

The blade halted—an inch away.

The figure's eyes widened in manic excitement.

“Ahh… that resistance… exquisite… truly, truly, you’ll be a feast unlike any other…!”

Gojo’s brow arched, unimpressed, as he swept his arm outward with a backhand like a steel whip.

The figure's body flexed unnaturally, spine arching in an impossible contortion to dodge, flipping backward in a graceful retreat to the far side of the room.

Glass shattered.

A third body crashed through the window—a small, wiry frame landing in a low animalistic crouch, the floorboards groaning beneath them.

All three stood together now—twisted grins, glinting blades, murderous intent radiating off them like heat.

“We…” the small figure declared, voice dripping with glee,
“…are the Sin Archbishops of the Witch’s Cult… representing Gluttony…”

“Lye Batenkaitos—”
“Roy Alphard—”

Gojo’s eyes darted between them, mind parsing information fast.

His brows furrowed, jaw tightening.

“..That so?”
His voice dropped lower, devoid of humor now—cold, dangerous.

STEP—!

Elsa Granhiert vanished from her spot in a blur—wind howling in her wake as she charged, one hand sliding into her pitch-black coat.

From within, she drew a dagger—sleeker, crueler in design, its silver edge gleaming unnaturally, crackling with a familiar energy, as if it hungered. Her movements were sharp, surgical—a slash arcing straight for Gojo’s stomach.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, palm already flicking across to intercept.
Infinity would stop it. It always did.

But—
Something was wrong.

Too smooth. Too precise. Too dangerous.

His mind screamed, piecing it together in fractions of a second.

A Cursed Tool—!?

SHHHRAK—!

The dagger pierced through.

His Infinity shattered—like glass collapsing under pressure. The blade sliced clean through his forearm, spraying crimson arcs across the room.

His arm severed. Gone from the elbow entirely and spiraling through the air.

Gojo’s breath caught—a flare of sharp pain jolting through him.

Forced deactivation?!

His cursed technique collapsed entirely. He couldn’t process why. No time.

Elsa’s follow-up slash whipped toward his torso—a killing stroke. Gojo’s body snapped backward, feet grinding against the floor as he twisted beneath the swipe—barely ducking in time amidst the internal confusion.

CLANG—!

Roy lunged next—Gojo’s reflexes seized control, his remaining arm snapping up to catch his wrist mid-thrust. He yanked Roy’s strike off-course, leaping backwards to create distance.

BOOM—!

His feet slammed into the ground, sliding back across polished wood before vaulting upward—blasting through the ceiling into the room above.

CRASH—!

Shards of debris cascaded around him as he landed hard, blood streaming in obscene amounts from the stump where his arm used to be.

They’re synchronized.
They planned for this, to take me down.

His Infinity was still offline. It wasn’t recovering.

That dagger… it’s still suppressing Infinity...

His thoughts scrambled, frantically processing.

A Cursed Tool? Here? In this world, one that specifically counters me perfectly? That's both suspicious and shouldn’t exist—

He grit his teeth.

No time to dwell.

SWISH—!

Lye’s sword screamed through the air—Gojo’s head whipped aside, narrowly avoiding the thrust, the tip grazing his cheek, carving a thin crimson line across his face.

His body moved before his thoughts could catch up, stepping into the blind angle, his remaining hand coiling tight into a fist—

But Roy was already there—!

A sharp claw slashed in from the flank—forcing Gojo to pivot back, breath sharp, footing sliding across the floor as he narrowly twisted out of reach of the claw's fast arc.

Can't exactly use Blue or Red in here…unless I want to demolish the whole mansion.

SWOOSH—

Roy remained on hot pursuit, claws glinting. Gojo's forearm snapped upward, intercepting the strike with a heavy parry, his knuckles tensing before blasting forward—fist burying itself into Roy’s solar plexus with a crunch

“Kuagh—!”

Roy's body crumpled, hurtling across the room like a ragdoll, shattering a wall before skidding along the floor to a stop.

…Can I even get sued in this world?

Gojo's torn arm twitched, muscle and tendon coiling unnaturally as fresh skin knitted itself together. He flexed his newly-regenerated limb, casually showing it off.

Elsa's eyes widened as she charged in, confusion flashing across her face—quickly replaced by cold, murderous resolve. Her arm retracted mid-leap, body coiled tighter, faster.

THRUST—

The cursed dagger screamed toward his gut.

Gojo tilted his torso, neck twisting as the blade screamed past by millimeters. His fist was already in motion—driving upward into Elsa’s ribs with enough force to shatter bone.

CRACK—!

Elsa's body folded, sent flying across the room like a missile. But even mid-air, she recovered, bending unnaturally, clawing her momentum to a halt as she kicked off the far wall with a sharp crack that spiraled out from it's surface.

Gojo ducked low, sidestepping, weaving past Lye’s relentless slashes that came one after the other as a wild onslaught of chaos. His instincts then howled—he couldn’t let Elsa tag him with that cursed dagger again.

SWISH—

Two blades cut toward him simultaneously from different directions—Gojo's foot twisted, his body pivoting low beneath both strikes. Then, his leg shot out in a sweeping roundhouse, crashing into Lye’s arm and caving it inward.

“Tch—!”
Elsa’s frustration cracked through her usual calm at the sight, dagger flipping in her hand, shifted into a reverse grip before descending from above like a hawk, the blade aimed for his spine.

But her wrist froze mid-air, enveloped in a shimmering blue aura.

Roy surged in from the flank—a dagger suddenly piercing Gojo's side and digging deep. Gojo coughed blood, head snapping toward the small archbishop with an annoyed look on his face.

“You're too fast… it's not fun—” Roy sneered, voice twisted with hunger, “—but meat like yours always tastes the best after all.”

Gojo's palm surged with a crimson glow.
"Screw it.. Roswaal can cry to me later..."

His hand flicked upward—space distorted, and a vermillion blast erupted trailed after his hand movement, tearing through the upper half of the mansion, roof included like a hot knife.

   “Red.”

Debris rained down—splintered beams, shattered stone, crumbling plaster—forcing everyone, even Gojo, to weave through the chaos.

Yanking the dagger from his side, Gojo lunged, a predator’s grin etched across his face.

“If you think I'm just fast…”

Roy's eyes snapped wide, his body jerking as Gojo's hand clamped around his throat, lifting him clean off the floor.

“Then you've got another thing—COMING—!!”

Gluttony slashed wildly, lacerating and tearing flesh with each wild swing, Gojo's grip didn't falter however, instead, he yanked Roy inward—his forehead slamming directly into Roy's face.

CRACK—!

Roy's head snapped back, a fountain of crimson spraying as his body sagged.

Gojo didn’t hesitate.

Maintaining his iron grip, he yanked Roy into his range, driving a brutal knee into his gut—Gluttony's body like paper under the overwhelming pressure.

“Tch—!”
Lye lunged to assist, but Gojo’s free hand snapped out, glowing faintly blue before flicked downward.

“Not your turn.”

A pulse of Blue warped the floor beneath Lye's feet—the ground caving and twisting unnaturally, his stance faltering.

SWISH—!

Elsa streaked in—even faster than before, the cursed dagger gleaming, eyes locked onto Gojo's exposed flank.

But Gojo's icy gaze never wavered.

The moment she closed the gap, debris tumbled from above—wood, stone, all fragments of the collapsing mansion. Gojo shoved Roy's limp form directly into the path of her strike.

“Urk—!”

Elsa hissed, contorting mid-air, joints snapping unnaturally as she twisted to avoid skewering her ally.

But the hesitation cost her.

Gojo threw Roy like dead weight, spinning low—the heel of his foot carving a vicious sweep across Elsa’s legs.

CRACK—!

Her knees buckled, body toppling sideways before catching herself with one hand and flipping backwards, boots sliding along wood.

Gojo pivoted forward, arm flicked forth as his palm shone crimson, eyes gleaming with malicious confidence.

   “-Red.”

The blast detonated—a controlled eruption of raw, condensed force launching Elsa clean through any remaining walls, her body spiraling through the collapsing wreckage like a broken doll.

The mansion groaned—beams splintering, rubble still tumbling around them.

Gojo exhaled sharply, eyes locked onto Elsa’s crumpled form as her body hurtled through the air, blasted clear out of the mansion's interior and into the estate’s colossal garden.

Targeting Elsa is the best bet. Immobilize her, find out how the hell she got a cursed tool… then finish the job.

FWOOOOSH—!

Elsa grimaced mid-flight, the rushing wind tearing her cloak free, fabric spiraling behind her like a flag in the wind. Her eyes widened—the familiar streak of white and violet closing in—only to vanish entirely from view.

“What—”

CRACK—!

A brutal impact caved in her spine, the force reversing her momentum completely, her body whiplashing backward until—

A hand clamped around her shin—bones dislocating with a sickening crunch, a result of momentum stilling to zero instantaneously.

SWISH—!

Gojo yanked her leg downward, body trailing helplessly after, before he hurled her toward the ground with overwhelming force. A shockwave rippled outward—the earth splitting, smoke and debris kicking high into the air as a crater bloomed beneath her broken body.

Her regeneration’s gotta have a limit…

Gojo dropped down like a meteor, crashing onto her chest, deepening the crater even further.

Elsa lay paralyzed, body limp from the neck down.

Kneeling atop her, Gojo pressed a knee against her sternum, gaze sharp.
“Start talking. Who gave you that weapon?”

For a moment, Elsa was silent—then, despite her ruined state, a faint blush colored her cheeks.

“My… aren’t you a forward one~”

“Ugh… Kurgh—?!”
A flash of silver—the cursed dagger buried itself in Gojo’s stomach, jagged steel punching through flesh and muscle.

His eyes widened, the pain sharp and cold. Blood bubbled from his lips as Elsa licked hers, pulling the blade free with deliberate slowness.

She pushed herself upright as Gojo staggered back, hand clutching the bleeding wound, palm soaked red that dripped between his fingers and onto the ground below.

Shit… that’s not healing…

Gojo winced, head tilting instinctively as fragments of movement caught his eye from afar—Lye, Subaru, and sharp gusts of wind from Ram still battering the collapsing mansion in the distance.

One problem down… but Infinity’s out even longer now. Blood loss isn’t gonna be helping either…

His thoughts snapped short like a broken thread, instincts flaring—his head snapped upward.

Roy descended from the sky, twin daggers gleaming as he plummeted toward Gojo like a hawk.

“No you don’t—!”

Gojo hopped backwards—the blades buried themselves in the garden soil as they missed their target. But Roy didn’t hesitate, releasing both weapons from his grip and stepping forward, palm outstretched as he lunged.

   “Eclipse—”

Gojo crossed his arms into an ‘X’ just in time.

“Urgk—!!”

The impact was monstrous—a raw, concussive wave of force ripping through his body, sending him skidding backward across the grass, dark bruises blossoming across his forearms as more blood poured from his mouth.

The hell’s with this little guy’s firepower?!

SWISH—!

Elsa reappeared, dagger carving a diagonal arc inches from his face as he leant backward to evade, slicing strands of white hair into the air.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

Time to hit back harder.

His body surged forward, twin cerulean orbs of cursed energy enveloping each fist—the strike slammed into Elsa’s stomach like a cannon blast, launching her across the garden in a tumbling heap.

FLICK—

Gojo retracted his hand—the surrounding debris twisted violently, a maelstrom of shattered steel and splintered wood spiraling down toward Elsa like a storm of blades from the sky.

Before the chaos settled, Gojo pivoted, clashing head-on with Roy once more.

CRACK—!!

The earth beneath their feet fractured like glass, spiderweb cracks racing outward as raw force collided with one another.

Gojo grunted, pushing through Roy’s resistance—driving him back before twisting into a brutal palm strike to his side.

“Kh—!”

Roy coughed violently, spitting saliva and blood as he stumbled back.

Gojo leapt even further back, boots skidding through the grass as he prepared, nearing a small pond at the garden’s edge.

The water rippled unnaturally—spiraling upward into jagged, cerulean spikes aimed straight at him.

Gojo’s palm snapped toward it, crimson flaring like wildfire—
BLAST—!
The orb of Red detonated, obliterating the incoming magic in an overwhelming burst of power.

“That all you’ve got…?”

For a moment, Roy frowned—then a crooked, unsettling grin split his face.

“Heh… kekeh… you sure about that?”

His eyes dropped to Gojo's paling face—the sheen of sweat glistening along his brow, blood pooling at his feet in slow, stubborn streams that refused to regenerate.

“You’re looking real fragile… ahh, I wish mama was here to see you break…”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, sharp as shattered glass.
“Yeah…?” A grin pulled at his lips, taut and electric despite the pain. “Me too.”

And then he charged forth once more.

But he could feel it—and so could Roy. His speed was slipping, his movements dulling under the weight of blood loss. Still, his fist tore through the air, cursed energy spiraling along his arm as he swung a wide, brutal hook.

Roy ducked beneath it, small frame weaving in tight, dagger gleaming as he closed the gap—Only to grunt in pain as Gojo’s elbow slammed down, bruising his wrist and killing the strike there and then.

Gojo pivoted, his body flowing like silk, flickering through the opening.

SWISH—!

A hook obliterated strands of Roy’s hair, grazing him by inches as he twisted away from it's range.

STEP—

Roy retreated, footwork tight, unable to counter under the weight of Gojo’s relentless blows.

SWOOSH—

He then feinted a strike, foot sliding outward at the same time—his body snapping into a full spin, a skillful pirouette which unleashed a whipping roundhouse aimed at Roy’s shin.

Roy’s entire world tilted, eyes wide, jaw clenched—he dove low, fingers raking the grass before pushing with all of his might and propelling himself skyward, narrowly evading the kick that would’ve shattered bone.

   “Eclipse—!”

The words hit the air fast, raw with power. Gojo’s gut twisted instinctively as he leapt back, the ground where he stood exploding under the miniature hurricane Roy unleashed with his fist tearing the ground asunder.

Debris flew in a chaotic storm.

But Gojo didn’t wait. Blue energy spiraled in his palm—BLAST—a tidal wave of stone and rubble hurtled toward Roy, just as Elsa clawed her way free of the fractured debris behind her.

Gojo’s hand snapped upward, a blue orb pulsing at his palm once more.

“Maximum Output…”
Cursed energy condensed—denser, hungrier, crushing the air around it.

   “Blue.”

The orb detonated, collapsing space in on itself—dragging everything in for dozens of meters, debris, stone, trees, all spiraling toward the singularity that obeyed his guiding hand.

Everything except the ground beneath his feet.

His senses flared—a whisper of sound, faint as a breath. His eyes snapped toward it, pivoting clean into Elsa’s approach—silent, swift, blade poised for his exposed flank.

FWOOM—!

His hand closed around her wrist, halting the slash cold before he suddenly leant closer.

“Talk.” His voice was low, fraying with exhaustion. “Who gave you the dagger?”
He leaned in, breathing heavier than he'd admit.
“I'll make this painless if you cooperate.”

Elsa smiled, though didn't respond.
A second dagger slid down her sleeve, gleaming.

Gojo clicked his tongue.

CRACK—!

His other arm snapped forward with vicious speed, twisting Elsa’s wrist backward with a heavy palm until the joint ruptured with a sickening crunch. She hissed in annoyance—but before she could react any further, Gojo’s same palm drove into her solar plexus a moment later.

“Suit yourself.”

Red.

The vermillion blast detonated point-blank—blood misted into the air as Elsa rocketed backward, body skidding across the ground, flipping over the crater’s jagged edge.

She landed hard, groaning, clutching at empty space, the gaping hole from where her stomach used to be—flesh torn away, blood pouring freely onto the fractured ground below

But already… it began to regenerate, muscle knitting over the empty space at speeds that were greater than Gojo's own regenerative capabilities.

Gojo’s eyes hardened.
“You gotta be kidding me…”

His gaze shifted—Roy stalked toward him, no longer hindered by debris.

Gojo’s side throbbed, his stomach wound pulsing with raw, burning pain.

That lucky strike… it's screwing me bad…

His pulse slowed, vision narrowing slightly at the edges.
I’ve gotta end this—now—or I’m actually in trouble.

“Haaahh… can’t have Subaru worrying, right…?”

Gojo’s eyes slipped closed.
No grin. No cocky bravado.
Just absolute focus.

A single breath—
And his entire body sharpened, like a blade pulled from the forge. His cursed energy compressed, humming low beneath his skin, drowning out pain, fatigue, everything.

Total Concentration.

Roy and Elsa surged forward—two predators, a blur of murder and precision.

Elsa reached him first, her figure a black wraith in motion, footsteps inaudible, dagger aimed to split him clean from hip to hip.

But she never made it.

Her brow furrowed—her blade dragged downward by an unseen force of cerulean that massively overwhelmed her own strength—

CRACK—!

Gojo’s foot slammed down on her wrist like a falling guillotine. Bones shattered. The dagger embedded into the earth. Her arm twisted, pinned useless beneath his boot.

Her hand scrambled for her second dagger—

Roy was already on Gojo like a flash.
A madman with fangs bared, twin daggers glinting silver beneath the moon, slicing down like fangs.

Gojo didn’t flinch.
His hand snapped sideways like a coiled serpent—WHAM—!
His palm cracked against Roy's skull, staggering the Archbishop sideways.

Then Gojo was gone before either of them could recover—
His entire body flickered, dissipating into thin air—

FWOOSH—!

Above.

Several meters overhead, Gojo hovered like a phantom under the pale moonlight, arms sprawled wide, eyes narrowed in icy calculation. The glow of cursed energy rippled faintly around him like an aura of the divine.

His lips parted, voice calm.
Ancient.
Untouchable.

“Throughout Heaven and Earth…”

A step forward, gravity meaningless beneath him.

“I alone am the Honored One.”

The air shuddered as the words dropped like an executioner's axe.

Below, Roy and Elsa glared upward, fury and caution mingling across their faces.

Gojo’s hand lifted—cerulean light blossomed at his palm, a sky-blue orb spiraling skyward before hovering overhead like a star ripped from the night sky.

LAND-

He dropped back to the earth, sidestepping inhumanly fast—
A dagger brushed past, barely grazing his cheek, opening a crimson line of blood from impact.

DODGE-

Elsa was already lunging, but Gojo didn’t falter—
His fist swung up like a piston—SMASH—!
Her arm snapped back at an unnatural angle once more.

COUNTER!

Pain flared in his ribs—a gash, Roy's dagger buried deep into his side.

But Gojo didn’t slow.
Didn’t hesitate.
Blood poured, but his eyes never left his target.

One step forward—stance rooted like iron—his hand reeled back, knuckles cracking.

BLACK FLASH.

The garden detonated.
Air warped. Space folded.
The strike connected with a catastrophic BOOM, the sheer precision distorting cursed energy at the moment of impact.

Elsa's side—obliterated. Bone, muscle, gone—her body skipping across the earth like a broken doll before cratering into the ground, buried a meter deep in pulverized soil and stone.

SWOOSH—CLANK—!

Gojo’s hand blurred upward, snatching Roy's dagger from the air mid-flight, sparks erupting from the cursed steel meeting his reinforced palm.

His grip slithered lower—clutching Roy’s forearm like a vice.

With monstrous force, he hurled the Archbishop through the air, body arcing helplessly toward Elsa as she writhed, mid-regeneration.

Gojo’s foot cracked the earth, leaping into the sky—
A grin, wild and sharp, finally split his face as the words poured from his lips.

   “Phase… Twilight… Eyes of Wisdom…”

Higher. Higher—he soared, cursed energy thrumming like a storm cloud gathering to burst.

   “Nine Ropes… Polarized Light… Crow and Declaration…”

His index finger rose, the blue orb he'd planted in the sky above answering his call, spiraling downward toward his grasp.

Scarlet light surged to meet it—
Red.
Blue.
Two impossible forces colliding. Fusing. Painting the air in destructive brilliance.

   “Between Front and Back…”

The fusion pulsed, a storm of color warping space itself. The garden, the mansion—everything stilled under its crushing potency.

Gojo's arms swept wide, his expression dark with awe and unrivalled confidence, as the final words fell.

   “Hollow Purple.”

The air collapsed.
Reality screamed. Pleaded.

And annihilation raced toward them with no intention of stopping.

Chapter 23: Pride's Rampage.

Notes:

This is a loop, what Subaru went through before finding Gojo for help with the mansion.

Subaru watched as Gojo vanished into thin air. His own body slumped against the wagon’s wooden side, jostling slightly with each bump in the dirt road—the occasional pebble or rut nudging the wheels.

There goes one of the only interesting people in this entire world...

Pride’s voice echoed in his mind, smooth, cold, detached.

Subaru exhaled through his nose, eyes slipping shut as his thoughts pushed back.

You’re supposed to be some kind of alter ego, right? Born from all that crap during the last loop? So why is it you don't care about anyone? Emilia, Rem…? They’re more than just 'useful' or 'interesting'.. they are their own people.

Pride’s response came sharp, dismissive—dripping with quiet superiority.

The same reason you care about them, it's just who I am- I exist because you almost shattered. At the summit of your failure, your desperation to claw your way out of weakness?
That’s me. Pride. I don’t need friends. I need results. Those I deem 'useful' should feel privileged they aren’t considered obstacles instead

Subaru scoffed under his breath, cracking an eye open, gaze fixed forward—watching the driver ahead grip the reins of the ground dragon.

Hard to believe you’re supposedly me, I’d never say that crap.

And yet...   H ere we are.

Subaru clicked his tongue, gaze lingering on the back of the wagon driver as the world bumped by.

What’s a Witch Factor, anyway?

For a moment, silence. Then, Pride’s voice returned, darker now—more measured, edged with faint irritation.

A parasite, A source of power, like the Unseen Hand… or Regulus’s invincibility. When I came to be, I just… understood. The Authority of Pride, its rules, its limits. As if the knowledge was always waiting.

A pause. Subaru could almost feel the faint scowl behind the voice.

But… I can’t help but wonder if my existence isn’t just coincidence. As if… I was meant to happen.

Subaru’s brow twitched, curiosity prickling at the back of his mind.

Meant to? What’s that supposed to—

Tsck—

A sharp click of the tongue, Pride cutting him off.

Why should I humor you?

And just like that, silence settled back into his head.

Subaru let it hang there, staring down the path ahead, uncertain whether he was relieved or unnerved. For all the arrogance, for all the constant venom in Pride's words… that had been the longest conversation they’d ever had.

---

Days Later...

Subaru adjusted Patrasche’s reins, the black ground dragon snorting softly beneath his touch. Ram stood nearby, silent, her crimson gaze fixed forward with passive disinterest.

“We should get going,” Subaru muttered, turning toward Garfiel. The golden-haired youth stood with arms crossed, sunlight glinting off his sharp canines.

“You not even gonna say goodbye to the Princess?” Garfiel’s voice carried an edge, one brow raised in quiet challenge.

“It’s not like we’ll be gone long.” Subaru shrugged, already dreading where this conversation was headed.

Garfiel’s expression remained unreadable. “Not my problem I guess. But… you passed the trial at the graveyard, didn’t ya?”

Subaru tensed, shoulders stiffening. “What gave it away?”

“Your eyes. You’re bad at hiding things, y’know.”

Subaru exhaled slowly, irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Why bring it up?”

“Simple.” Garfiel’s gaze drifted to the dirt path beneath them. “So you’ll take her place. Guess you don’t believe in her, huh?”

The accusation stung more than Subaru wanted to admit. Pride’s words echoed in his mind like a curse.

Don’t rely on ants.

The line between his own thoughts and Pride’s venomous ideology blurred more with every passing day. And yet… it was hard to disagree with it.

With Return by Death or Pride’s Authority in use when he let him take over, success was inevitable. Emilia struggling through the trial was unnecessary… even cruel, there was no reason for her to suffer if he has broken abilities like this.

“Tch.” Subaru looked away, jaw clenched.

He wouldn’t say it aloud, but the decision had already been made.

She’ll forgive me… eventually.

“You ever stop to think how she’ll feel?” Garfiel’s voice softened, though his sharp stare remained. “She’ll think you betrayed her.”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. “That’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Fine, fine. You’re the genius makin’ the calls, right..?” Garfiel reached toward his neck, pulling free a necklace strung with a blue gem. He held it out. “Take this.”

Subaru eyed it warily. “What’s this for?”

“If push comes to shove, show it to Frederica.”

Subaru pocketed the gem, leaping onto Patrasche’s back. He nodded toward Ram before glancing down at Garfiel. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Try not to die to some bandits or somethin’ stupid.”

With a flick of the reins, the ground dragon surged forward, trees whipping past in a blur of green and brown.

---

Ram’s voice cut through the wind. “Do you believe that necklace will be useful?”

“No idea,” Subaru admitted. “You probably know him better than me.”

Ram considered that, eyes half-lidded. “Perhaps… a memento.”

“Memento?”

“A symbol of trust between family. Show it to Frederica—I believe she’ll understand.”

Subaru nodded slowly as the Roswaal mansion came into view, its towering silhouette rising against the horizon. They passed the gates, hooves clattering against polished stone, stopping just shy of the grand entrance.

Petra greeted them with a bright smile, curtsying in her maid uniform. “Welcome back, Subaru! You’re early.”

Subaru grinned, ruffling her orange hair. “Couldn’t stay away too long after all!”

Inside the estate, marble floors echoed beneath their footsteps. Subaru glanced at Ram. “You and your sister got some weird mind powers or something right?”

Ram raised a brow. “That’s… a very stupid way to put it but..”

He chuckled dryly. “Still… any word from Rem?”

Ram’s expression softened faintly. “Sister is well. That much I know, of course.”

Relief washed over Subaru as they stopped outside a door.

“Frederica should be inside. I need to return to work before she scolds me!” Petra scurried off down the hall.

Subaru pushed the door open. Inside, Frederica cleaned the room, her sharp-toothed smile widening as she turned.

“You’ve returned sooner than expected, Subaru. And with Ram..?”

Ram offered a simple nod. Subaru produced the necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers.

Frederica’s eyes widened. “That is…”

She plucked it gently from his hand, inspecting the gem with trembling fingers.
“Garf’s stone…”

“So you are related,” Subaru mused. “Guess that was obvious, but… he’s weird.”

Frederica chuckled softly, eyes glistening. “I’m his elder sister. By blood.”

Tears threatened to fall, but Ram’s dry remark cut through the moment.
“It seems retirement hasn’t improved your tea.. Frederica.”

Frederica grinned.
“Tea is still my specialty. But I imagine you didn’t visit for refreshments.”

Both women turned toward Subaru expectantly, awaiting the reasoning, because even Ram came here blindly.

Subaru exhaled. “Right, well—”

A voice slithered through the room. Low, seductive, and utterly devoid of warmth.

“Oh dear… I believe there are far more important matters to discuss.”

Everyone froze.

Subaru’s stomach plummeted as Elsa Granhiert stepped into view, Petra clutched in one arm, her dagger poised at the girl’s throat.

“You—!”Subaru’s fists clenched, fury boiling beneath his skin. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Close-range combat meant nothing if Elsa struck first.

The assassin’s crimson eyes swept the room, disappointment flickering across her face.
“So… his information was correct.. he isn't here... Shame. But gutting the rest of you will no doubt lure him out.”

The air snapped with motion. Ram darted forward, wand alight with spiraling mana.

“El Fula!”

A jagged gust of wind howled toward Elsa’s face. The assassin leaned aside, evading the strike by mere inches as the door behind her exploded into splinters.

Frederica lunged straight after, yellow and white beast-like arm forming mid-swing. Claws clashing against Elsa’s dagger, the air cracking from the force.

“My, my… demi-human blood…” Elsa licked her lips, hunger flashing in her eyes. “Your guts must be absolutely tantalizing~!”

Frederica’s snarl deepened, her golden hair furling out for Petra to grab as the pair disengages.

Now!

Subaru suddenly lunged forward as soon as Frederica and Petra stepped away, his fist colliding with Elsa’s blade and sending sparks flying in every direction. The force sent her skidding back, a faint smile curling her lips after a moment of surprise.

“Oh my… that was unexpected.”

“Strength… but no skill. Wild punches won’t save you..”

Subaru gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe. Her blade arced toward him—a horizontal slash meant to split him open. Thankfully, he twisted back, narrowly avoiding the worst, though her weapon sliced through cloth and an inch or two of skin, blood soaking his side.

“Subaru!” Petra cried.

FWOOSH-!

“Dodge, Barusu!” Ram commanded.

Subaru hurled himself aside as Ram unleashed a spiraling torrent of wind toward the surprised assassin.

   “Ul Fula!”

The blast tore through the room, smashing Elsa into the far wall in a shower of debris and sharp wind.

“Run!” Ram barked.

Frederica scooped up Petra, bolting for the exit. Subaru fell in step behind them, but his mind raced.

Elsa wasn’t down. Not yet, definitely not.

From the wreckage behind them, bones cracked, tendons twisted—her body mending itself with grotesque efficiency.

“Oh dear… that won’t do at all..”

Subaru skidded to a halt, spinning to face the ruined room at the end of the hallway.

“Barasu—!?” Ram shouted.

“You guys keep running! I’ll hold her off!”

Blood trickled down his side as he steadied his stance, eyes narrowing on the grinning silhouette which emerged from the smoke.

“I wanted to save your entrails for last, but… oh well~” Elsa’s voice purred with amusement, her dagger twirling lazily in one hand. Her stance was casual, insultingly so—like she didn’t even recognize Subaru as a threat.

In hindsight, this was probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had…

Fighting Elsa Granhiert alone? It bordered on suicidal, unless he was being dumb and underestimating himself, which he considered severely unlikely considering his track record.

But there was no turning back now.

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. His body shifted smoothly, both fists rising as he fell into the martial stance Gojo had drilled into him—elbows tucked, weight centered, cursed energy coursing along his limbs.

“Mmm… yes, do try to entertain me~” Elsa cooed, eyes glinting with hunger.

STEP—!

She moved—not quite the impossible speed from their first meeting, but still unnervingly fast. Subaru's pulse quickened, but a flicker of pride stirred in his chest. At least now… she was taking him seriously.. right?

Don’t get ahead of yourself. Pride means nothing if you're dead.

The reminder cut through the haze of adrenaline like cold water. Subaru steadied his breathing as Elsa’s dagger sliced through the air toward him.

A sharp step backward. The steel missed by inches.

“You think I’d fall for that agai—?”

His words caught as the dagger twisted mid-swing, flipping into a reverse grip with snake-like fluidity.

“I’d hope you wouldn’t~,” Elsa whispered, her grin widening as she swung. The dagger plunged downward, aiming to carve straight through his chest.

BANG—!

Subaru’s palm snapped up, seizing her wrist in a vice grip. The blade hovered inches from his eye, their locked gazes burning with tension. For a fleeting moment, neither moved.

Then pain exploded in his gut.

“—Kuh!?”

A brutal heel slammed into his stomach, blasting the air from his lungs. He flew backward, spine colliding with the corner of the hallway wall. His vision swam.

Fast—!!

No time to recover. He pivoted instinctively as another dagger flashed toward his ribs—barely dodging as the blade buried itself in the wood behind him.

Before Elsa could yank it free, Subaru lunged, throwing a heavy hook that tore the air like a whip.

SWISH—

She ducked effortlessly, strands of her raven hair sliced loose as she weaved beneath his fist. In a blur, she sidestepped around him, her dagger arcing toward his stomach like a black serpent.

Subaru raised his forearm to block the swing, feeling the weapon halt dangerously close to his stomach. He retaliated, driving his fist upward toward her ribs—but she was already gone.

A somersault overhead—feet planting on the ceiling, and with a push, she rocketed downward.

“Grrh—!”
Subaru braced. His hand intercepted her palm mid-fall to alter the trajectory of the daggers swing, the ground beneath him cracking under the impact.

Then everything gave way entirely

Wood shattered, floorboards collapsing beneath them as they crashed into the lower level. Splinters rained like shrapnel as they tumbled down together.

Subaru didn’t hesitate.

His grip on her forearm never loosened. Using her momentum, he wrenched Elsa beneath him as they slammed into the marble floor below.

“HYRAAH—!!”
His fist hammered downward—but Elsa twisted, evading the strike. His blow cratered the floor instead, cracks spiderwebbing through stone.

A grin. In one fluid motion, she flipped them, straddling his lap as her dagger drove for his stomach.

Subaru’s hand shot up, halting the blade inches from his body. He gritted his teeth, free knee slamming into her spine, forcing her forward.

His other fist swung wide—a savage hook—colliding with her jaw and launching her across the room. She skidded across the marble, flipping gracefully back to her feet.

“Oh my~ such improvement since our last meeting… I’m truly impressed,” she purred, licking blood from her lip.

With a thunderous step, Elsa didn’t simply charge—she flipped, landing gracefully on the far wall. In the same instant, she sprinted along the marble surface, circling Subaru like a vulture closing in on a carcass.

Subaru exhaled slowly, muttering under his breath.
“I can return by— Grhk!”

The miasma roared inside him—cursed energy surging like wildfire. His hand shot out, snatching for the dagger as Elsa closed in.

Her eyes widened. The blade barely dug into the layers of his skin before his grip tightened like steel, yanking it from her grasp and tossing it aside.

His eyes narrowed.

She has a second one—!

CRACK—!

His forearm intercepted her hand as it dove for her cloak. Subaru stepped in close, strength surging through him like a tidal wave.

A barrage of strikes followed—heavy, fast, relentless. For a brief moment, Elsa stumbled, her usual grace faltering under the onslaught.

But she adapted, just as fast. His blows began missing by wider margins, her body flowing like a shadow.

No hesitation. Subaru’s foot pivoted sharply on the wood floor, cursed energy flooding into his leg. His body twisted—firing off a roundhouse kick laced with raw, purple power.

It landed.

CRACK—!

Elsa’s ribs buckled under the impact. Her body rocketed through the air like a ragdoll, smashing through one wall—then another—before vanishing beneath collapsing wooden debris.

Subaru stood still, chest heaving, hope sparking briefly in his chest.

“I… I did it… Now I just gotta find Ram and—”

A familiar voice slithered from the shadows.

“… You’re going… urk… nowhere… young man…”

From the broken remains of the walls, Elsa stepped forward, blood staining her face, her left arm and leg twisted unnaturally. But her grin… remained intact.

“That strike was… ahhh~…”

A low, almost indecent moan escaped her lips as a blush crept across her cheeks. Flesh knit back together. Bones popped and reformed, the wounds closing like they’d never been there.

“... Shit…” Subaru muttered.

“It appears… I misjudged you…” Elsa admitted, straightening as her torso flexed unnaturally, bones audibly snapping into place.

Her stance shifted. Lower. Coiled. Intent to kill burning in her eyes.

Subaru’s breath slowed, steady. His fists rose again, Gojo’s stance taking form—though the ache in his side screamed for attention.

Elsa licked her lips, hungry and thrilled.
“Elsa Granhiert… The Bowel Hunter…”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed, voice like steel.
“Natsuki Subaru…”

They moved simultaneously—but Elsa was faster.

FWOOM—!

The air cracked like a thunderclap as she vanished, the floor shattering beneath where she’d stood.

Subaru twisted—barely. Her dagger flashed, grazing his side.

A second cut followed—deeper, blood soaking his shirt.

A third—her dagger arcing upward to carve him open from hip to chest.

But it missed—by a hair’s breadth.

She’s too fast.

Was this… really the strength gap between us?

The question gnawed at him.

Should I… let Pride out?

Subaru shut it down. No. Not yet.

Another slash—he ducked low, fist firing upward with brutal force.

Only air.

The ground and nearby windows cracked under the force of his missed punch. Elsa had already slipped through his guard, dagger glinting red with his blood as she darted toward his stomach.

SWOOSH—!

“ARGH—!!”
Agony bloomed through his hand as he instinctively blocked, the black-and-purple blade driving straight through his palm.

“Yes…! That’s the sound I wanted to hear…!”
Elsa moaned, yanking the dagger free in a spray of blood.

A pirouette—a graceful twist—then her foot collided with Subaru’s ribs.

WHAM—!

His body shattered through the mansion walls—one, two, three—before slamming into the far end of a grand, open chamber.

Twin marble pillars loomed overhead—the mansion’s entrance hall.

“G-Guhh…”

Subaru doubled over, vomit and blood spilling from his mouth. His good hand clawed at the edge of the crater in the wall, forcing his battered body free. He staggered forward, nearly collapsing with every step.

A glance down confirmed it—left arm mangled, ribs broken, blood pouring freely from multiple wounds.

No sign of Elsa yet.

But the smell…

Not cooking—burning.

His sharp senses flared with realization.

“…What did you… do…?” Subaru hissed into the vast empty room, voice echoing off the walls.

From the shadows, Elsa emerged once more, eyes gleaming.

“Why… I’m rooting out those little pests you've tried so hard to save… Can’t let a single bug crawl away from the mess we've made~”

Subaru’s jaw clenched.

His broken body shifted—only one arm rising into a fighting stance, the other limp at his side, blood dripping from his forehead and down over his eyes.

His glare sharpened, burning with resolve.

“I’ll kill you, Elsa Granhiert..”

Elsa giggled, her manic charm never wavering as she flicked her dagger into the air, catching it deftly in reverse grip.

“I can… return by—arghh!!”

Subaru buckled forward, his teeth grinding as pain lanced through his body. The witch’s miasma surged, thickening, intensifying. It became visible now, tendrils of purple vapor spiraling from his shoulder, enveloping him like an aura of madness.

“I can return by—!!”

Blood spilled from his lips, vomited in thick, ragged spurts as the miasma coiled tighter, alive, writhing around him like a second skin.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed. She could feel it. Something had changed.

But no matter. Power boosts could only bridge so much of a gap.

She lunged, snatching a fallen dagger from the ground and hurled it at Subaru as she herself dashed forward to close the distance.

SWOOSH—

The dagger whistled through the air—only to stop, suspended less than half a meter from Subaru. The purple haze lashed out, gripping the blade like a living entity before contemptuously flicking it aside.

Elsa was already there, her remaining dagger thrust forward—

CRACK—

Pain exploded in her senses. Her wrist was wrenched apart from her limb, the dagger clattering uselessly to the ground as her severed hand spiraled through the air.

The miasma contorted around Subaru, warping violently, almost as if another being now controlled it—something ancient, untouchable.

With a snarl, Elsa twisted mid-air, scrambling to recover her dagger from her dismembered hand and disengage.

“Urgh…”

Subaru staggered forward, his arms dangling uselessly, even his unbroken one limp at his side. His head drooped low, his breath shallow, the violet haze around his hands shifting—reshaping.

Into claws.

Massive ones.

Then, he moved.

But not with the footwork Gojo taught him, nor with the desperate strikes Elsa had learned to counter and avoid with ease.

No—this was feral. Animalistic.

He dashed forward with raw, predatory instinct, a blur closing the gap in an instant.

His clawed hand swung overhead.

CRACK—!!

Elsa evaded—barely—vaulting backward as the monstrous claw gouged through the stone floor, shattering it into splintered debris. But Subaru didn’t stop—he used the embedded claw to pull himself violently forward, catching Elsa off-guard mid-air.

"Tch—!!"
Desperation flared in her chest as she flung her dagger upward, cleaving against the miasma-clad claws.

No blood from him, only her.

Another swipe tore through her abdomen, viscera unspooling and slapping wetly to the ground as she stumbled upon landing.

“A-Ahh…~”
One trembling hand clutched at the slithering ropes of entrails.

SMASH—!!

A second blow hammered into her face, shattering her jaw and sending teeth scattering like broken glass. Elsa’s body was flung backward, smashing through the towering wooden doors and tumbling onto the stone path outside.

It feels good, doesn’t it? But you want more, right?

Subaru staggered forward, his gait uneven, his entire body swaying as the miasma flared and lashed like serpentine tendrils, carving scars into the earth and walls.

Elsa rose—her jaw snapping back into place, the gory wound across her midsection sealing rapidly.

That alone made Subaru realize—

It’s not enough.
She’s still standing.
She’s not dead after one blow.
That’s not enough to protect anyone.

So I need… more.

“I… can… return—”

Blood gushed from his eyes, mouth, and nose as he collapsed forward, body finally buckling.

In the void of his mind, Pride laughed, sharp and cruel.

AHAHAHAHA!! YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!

Elsa blinked in disbelief. That was it? That was all he could muster for such a display?

Still, she saw opportunity.

He’d grown since their last meeting—tremendously—but even that wasn’t enough.

She gripped her dagger and sprinted toward him—only for the ground to rupture.

THUNK—THUNK—!!

Black, ink-like spikes shot from the earth, impaling her limbs and midsection in a brutal instant, hoisting her several meters into the air like a mangled marionette.

Slowly, with a languid sway, Pride’s body peeled upright. He glared at her, his expression cold, his smile cruel.

“Did you really think an insect like you could touch me? Train for another century, then maybe you’ll earn the privilege of basking in my shadow.”

With a flick of his wrist, the ground trembled.

A colossal black pillar surged upward, forming into a monstrous hammer, its surface rippling like tar. Pride guided it with a downward gesture with his hand.

BOOOOM—!!

The impact shattered the ground, leaving a massive crater in its wake. When the shadows dispersed, Elsa Granhiert was nothing more than crushed pulp—gore, bone fragments, and blood.

Pride admired the dark aura coiling around his hand. His brow quirked.

“Mmm… wait a second… is that you, Satella—”

“Subaru—!!”
“Barusu—?!”

His head snapped toward the mansion doors, where Frederica, Ram, and Petra rushed out. Smoke billowed from the burning halls behind them.

Petra bolted forward but was yanked back by Ram, who stared at Subaru—no, Pride—with sharpened intuition.

The purple aura. The oppressive malevolence. The horrifying grin and lack of reaction to the pile of gore at his feet.

“That’s not Barusu..” Ram whispered, her voice low, steady.

Pride grinned.
“Technically, I am. Just not the one you know.”

Petra trembled.
“W-What does that mean…?”

He only smirked wider.

Right now… with Satella’s miasma flowing through me, and my own Authority… even Satoru Gojo would find fighting me a struggle.. At night, when my -shadows are strongest… I wonder how I’d fare against the Sword Saint…

“Whatever. This loop is ruined anyway, so—”

PRIDE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

Subaru’s voice echoed in his head.

Finally awake? Good. I want you to watch.

No! Don’t—don’t you dare—!!

Frederica spoke urgently. “We need to—”

SHUNK—

Blood sputtered from her lips as she glanced down at the black spike skewering her abdomen.

“G-Gurhh… S-Subaru…?”

Pride shook his head.
“Wrong. I’m Pride. Get it right.”

With a clench of his fist, the spike branched, erupting through her entire body before vanishing. She crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

PRIDE!! YOU SICK BASTARD!!

Relax… you’ll see them again soon. This loop’s already beyond saving so I'm making the most of it.

Ram’s shock dissolved into cold rage. “Petra, run! NOW!”

Pride could’ve killed them both instantly—but letting Petra run was more amusing.

She fled into the mansion, deeper into the growing fire.

“Barusu…” Ram hissed. “What the hell is this?”

“I am Pride. Try to keep up.”

Her hand twitched.

“—Ul Fula!!”

Sickles of wind screamed toward him—but they veered off course, eviscerating the ground around his feet. The miasma hadn’t even reacted, it didn't need to, Pride's Authority was more than enough.

She grit her teeth.

“Ul Fula!!”

Again, nothing. Her breath quickened in panic and exhaustion.

“U-Ul… F—”

His hand clasped her throat, hoisting her into the air. She gagged, kicking and clawing desperately to try find a breath.

PRIDE!! PLEASE—STOP!! DON’T DO THIS!!

CRUNCH—

Her neck shattered in his grip. Her body fell limp.

“Now… the little girl..”

---

He sauntered through the flaming halls, hands in his pockets, unfazed by the inferno. The miasma shielded him—but even he could feel the suffocating heat and his own blood loss gnawing at him.

“Surely, she didn’t char herself trying to flee from me…?”

Subaru’s pleas grew louder—desperate, raw—but Pride tuned him out.

His eyes flicked to a door.

“I almost forgot about her.”

He pushed it open, stepping into the Forbidden Library. Flames had reached even here, smoke curling between ancient tomes and only growing.

Beatrice sat motionless, clutching a book—her gospel.

Her wide eyes met his, shimmering with tears, hopeful.

“Y-You… are you… Betty’s person…?”

His purple gaze bore into hers. He smiled.

DON’T YOU DARE—IF YOU TOUCH HER—

A spike shot through her stomach, azure mana spraying from the wound.

But her smile didn’t falter.

That. Smile.
That pissed him off.

He leaned in, hand on her shoulder.

“Why would anyone want someone like you? I certainly wouldn’t. No wonder you’ve been alone for centuries.”

PRIDE!!

Her tears spilled freely now, the hope shattering.

One spike after another impaled her until her body dissolved into flecks of blue light in the smoke.

“Tch.”

A weak presence stirred nearby.

He turned. Petra—huddled in a corner, trembling.

“S-Subaru… why…?”

She wept openly, unable to comprehend the monster before her.

Pride crouched, placing a finger over her lips. The miasma receded, his voice low.

“Shh… you’re wrong. I’m Pride. Remember that for the little time you have left.”

He raised a hand—darkness coiling into an ebony blade.

One swipe robbed her of her eyes.

Petra whimpered, keeling forward. “I-It hurts… it hurts…”

PLEASE—STOP—NOT HER—PLEASE—

Another slash. One arm gone.

STOP—PLEASE—I’LL GIVE YOU MY BODY—WHATEVER YOU WANT—

Another arm severed.

Her screams were animalistic, pure agony.

STOP—TAKE ME—JUST DON’T—

He thrust the blade into her heart, watching as her movements and cries seized after a few seconds.

“You see? This is your fault, Subaru. You wanted more.”

Pride hummed to Subaru’s broken sobs as he strolled through the burning mansion, stepping over charred debris as his body blistered and burned beneath the ink-like shroud.

He emerged from the collapsing halls onto the scorched courtyard, body tattered and burnt in various areas.

A figure descended—red and white—a blur of pristine power.

Reinhard Van Astrea.

“Subaru, you're hur—”

His expression twisted into realization, then sorrow. This wasn't Subaru any more.

“Subaru… I’m sorry.. for being too late..”

He spoke not to Pride—but to the boy imprisoned within.

“I will grant you peace. I will erase this monster…”

Pride chuckled, summoning his ebony sword despite knowing the inevitable soon to come.

“Oh, you’re about to kill one of the only people who actually like you. Must be a lonely life—so much power, yet you’re always late.”

Reinhard’s hand clasped the hilt of Reid—the Dragon Sword. It considered Pride worthy.

“Reinhard Van Astrea... with this sword, I will ensure there is no trace of your sick existence left. Down to the last particle...”

The air fractured. Space itself whimpered beneath Reinhard’s presence.

“For my friend.... Natsuki Subaru..”

Even Pride felt it.

Death was inevitable.

Reinhard unsheathed the sword, slowly, purposefully.

The world trembled.

Reality screamed.

Pride moved—one step.

But that was as far as even he could make it.

BOOOOM—

A pillar of unstoppable power descended, obliterating him instantaneously, vaporizing even the last fleck of his existence.

The sky split across the entirety of the region. The earth ruptured for miles to come.

There was nothing left where the mansion had resided.

Not even ash.

Only silence.

Chapter 24: The Greedy One.

“Uff… uff…”

Gojo exhaled long, uneven breaths, floating several meters above what used to be Roswaal's pristine garden.

Or at least… what was left of it.

The entire section had been reduced to a smoldering crater—cracks of molten earth spiderwebbed along the surface, streaks of residual cursed energy crackling through the air like violet lightning. The ground hissed and steamed, still glowing faintly red-hot.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d actually killed the Archbishop and assassin—but there was nothing left to signify their existence.

A deep frown creased his face. At the very least, one of them had to be dead. The cultist—Roy, if he remembered the name correctly. That one didn’t have regenerative abilities. Unlike Elsa…

His gaze flicked down to his hand, where crimson stained his forearm from the gushing wound from his stomach.

Her regeneration was greater than his own. An unsettling fact. Though… there had to be a limit to it—there's always a catch.

“Uff… kghh…”

Gojo floated down, boots planting on the scorched incline at the crater’s edge. One arm pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, warm blood seeping between his fingers. His vision dimmed slightly—colors dulling, edges blurring.

In his other hand… Elsa's dagger.

A cursed tool. Dangerous—lethal—and far too important to obliterate.

His jaw clenched.

They didn’t come here on their own.

Elsa’s words lingered in his mind.

Someone had sent them.

And based on the weapon, the cursed energy lingering on its surface—the unfamiliar signature—it wasn’t just anyone.

A sorcerer. From his world.

“Gojo-sensei!”
Subaru’s voice rang out from his left.

Gojo’s eyes drifted to him.

Subaru wasn’t unscathed. Cuts and gashes marred his frame. Ram rushed alongside him, a similar state of bruises and bloodstains painting her usually composed figure.

“Are you alright?!” Subaru called out, panting.

Gojo managed a crooked grin.
“I should be asking you that… but yeah… I’m.. fine.”

“Normally, yeah…” Subaru shot him a half-smile. “But you’re the guy with the crazy healing factor.”

Gojo chuckled weakly, his voice raspier than he liked. “Yeah, well… right now… I think you’ve got the better deal.”

His hand pressed harder against his stomach, where Reverse Cursed Technique was sluggishly at work, barely enough to keep him conscious.

Subaru’s gaze darkened with concern. “That’s… not good…”

“Yeah, no shit…”
Gojo muttered, forcing his feet to take a step forward.

But the moment his foot hit solid ground, the vertigo hit him like a freight train.

Shit…

His knees buckled slightly.

“Oi… Subaru…” His voice strained, but he forced it steady, flicking the dagger toward the boy in an underarm throw—sloppier than his usual precision, but still enough for Subaru to catch it awkwardly.

“Don’t lose this… it’s important…”

“Huh? What—”

THUD.

Gojo’s body crumpled forward, collapsing to the charred ground like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes closed, completely still.

“Gojo-sensei—!!” Subaru lunged forward, panic spiking.

Ram was faster. She dropped to her knees beside Gojo, two fingers pressing firmly against his neck.

A tense pause.

Then—
“He’s alive… barely… but we need to move. Now.”

The tension in Subaru’s shoulders loosened marginally, but his heart still raced.

---

...

...

...

"..Kill him..."

A voice in the darkness.

"You must... kill him..."

Soft. Feminine. Haunting.

"Please... kill him..."

The shadows slowly peeled away like mist, revealing the silhouette of a woman draped in a long, dark cloak. Her face hidden—only two silver rivers of hair cascading down either side.

"You must... kill Pride."

---

Gojo's eyes snapped open, his dull expression staring blankly at the dark wooden ceiling above.

A beat passed before he slowly pushed himself upright, the rustle of bedsheets accompanying the faint memory of what happened. His eyes drifted down to his torso—bandages wrapped tightly across his stomach, yet… no pain.

His hand hovered over the spot where the cursed tool had pierced him. Nothing. 

"Mmm… My best bet is Emilia healed me, considering it was probably Subaru that dragged me here..."

He slid off the bed, only for a flicker of panic to seize his chest. His sharp eyes scanned the room.

Where's the—

There. The dagger rested neatly on the bedside cabinet beside a roll of clean bandages.

Gojo exhaled, his hand instinctively reaching for his sunglasses—only to be reminded they had been shattered during the fight with Regulus multiple days ago.

"Tch. I mean… I can live without them, thanks to reverse cursed technique patching up any brain damage the Six Eyes dish out, but it’s still too much stimulation for my liking over a long duration..."

His gaze lingered on the bandages by the dagger. An idea clicked into place.

After ruffling his snow-white hair upward, he carefully wrapped the bandages around his eyes, making sure they were tight enough to stay put.

"Not bad, if I say so myself."

He let out a sigh, adjusting the plain robes hanging off him.

"But the suit I was given is toast… and now I’m stuck in these funky robes. Great."

"Whatever. I'll just order a new suit when I get out of here..."

Sliding the dagger into his pocket, he reached for the door, twisting the handle and stepping outside.

"Where is here…?"

A small hut, overtaken by moss, grass, and other greenery. He stepped onto a crumbling path, his eyes scanning the scene.

A village—if it could even be called that. Shattered stone pillars jutted multiple meters high, thick foliage swallowing everything in sight.

The atmosphere was… unsettling. Oppressive.

Gojo walked further, observing the residents—beast-kin. Or at least mixed-blood. Confusion and fear painted their faces. Mothers pulled children behind them, eyes wide as they avoided him.

Not a single human in sight.

"Where the hell did Subaru take me...?"

His steps slowed as he closed his eyes briefly, focusing.

Cursed Energy.

"Found you."

He clasped his hands together—and vanished. The villagers' hushed gasps followed in his wake.

---

"That's not fair at all!"
Emilia's voice rang out in frustration.

"Tch, how’s that not fair? You should be happy you don’t have to do the trial. I'm the one with broken abilities—what’s the point of anyone else struggling?"
Subaru fired back casually.

Emilia's hands trembled at her sides.
"That’s not… Have you ever thought about how I feel? No matter what happens, it's always you who saves the day! Every time, it's always you! I… I want to help for once. I’m tired of feeling useless—like I’m just baggage!"

Tears welled in her eyes, voice cracking with frustration.

Subaru paused, his brows furrowing—not with pity, but… something colder.

"Then just be baggage... what difference does it make..?" he muttered flatly, looking at her with surprising indifference.
"Like I said, no point in anyone else struggling when I’ve got the abilities I do."

Emilia's eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face as tears spilled over. She turned sharply and stormed away.

Subaru growled under his breath.
"You shut your mouth… I'm only doing what you ask because—"

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Subaru spun instinctively, leaping back.

"Ah—! Gojo-sensei… You're awake—and… looking different?"
Subaru’s grin returned, forced and uneasy.

"Yeah… sunglasses broke remember. Went with the next best thing.."
Gojo replied, tapping the bandages around his eyes.

His voice lowered, unimpressed.
"That whole scene just now? Pretty out of character for you... I thought you were head over heels for Emilia. Also… who were you talking to, exactly?"

"Myself," Subaru said flatly. "Anyway, Roswaal wants to see you! Said to find him as soon as you woke up. He’s in that house."

Subaru gestured to a slightly larger, moss-covered building nearby.

"Uh-huh… well, lead the way, dude."

"Yup.." Subaru chimed, walking ahead.

Gojo followed, eyes narrowing slightly.

Subaru’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. No one's personality flips that hard in under a week.

---

Inside, Roswaal lay bedridden. The usual eccentric makeup gone, his body wrapped in bandages. Ram stood at his side.

"Ah… Satoru Gooooojo... Long time no seeeee...!"
Roswaal greeted, mismatched eyes bright despite his condition.

"Yeah, sure. What happened to you? You look like you got hit by a bus or something."

Roswaal chuckled weakly.
"Not familiar with thaaaat expression, but… this is the price a full-blooded human pays for challenging the Sanctuary’s Triiial!"

"Right… so, maybe explain where we are? What’s going on? Preferably before I lose interest."

"This is the Sanctuary. The Witches' Graveyard. Where the... 'Witch of Greed'—Echidna—met her end long ago. The magical barrier keeps demi-humans trapped. Thuuus.. only full-blooded humans can come and gooo.."

Gojo nodded slowly.
"Witch of Greed, huh? Any relation to the Witch of Envy?"

Roswaal’s eyes darkened for a split second, his smile faltering—barely. But Gojo caught it.

He didn’t like that question…

"The Witch of Greed… Echidna. Faaar less evil than the one who nearly destroyed the world. I'd prefer we use heeeer actual name than some degrading title, wouldn’t you?"

Gojo shrugged.
"Whatever. So, considering I can teleport whenever I want… what’s stopping me from just pulling the demi-humans out of here?"

Roswaal’s eyes glinted with something hidden.

"No need for such… haste, given my conditiiiiiiion, yes?"

Suspicious. Very.

"Sure… what did you want, Roswaal?"

The unpainted clown's face tilted, smile widening as his gaze flicked to Subaru.
"I’d prefer to speak with you, alone."

"Ah… sure."
Subaru shrugged and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

A heavy silence settled.

Roswaal tilted his head toward Ram, who was clearly reluctant to leave.
"But—Roswaal—"

"Relax," Gojo cut in with a dismissive wave. "If I wanted him dead or kidnapped or something, there’s nothing you—or anyone else here—could do to stop me."

Ram’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but after a tense moment, she relented and left.

"Now… what’s this about?"
Gojo asked, brow raised.

Roswaal's smile faded, along with the exaggerated cadence of his speech.

"You've noticed Subaru’s… change, haven’t you?"

"Would have to be blind not to. Spill."

Roswaal nodded swiftly.
"It makes no sense, of course… One week—barely—and his entire personality’s done a complete flip. It's… unnatural.. don't you think..?"

Gojo leaned back, hands tightening in his pockets.

"You saying there’s something at play? Curse? Possession?"

Roswaal didn’t answer. But his silence was confirmation enough.

Gojo's frown deepened as that eerie dream resurfaced—the woman in the dark cloak, her whispered words echoing in his mind.

"Pride…"

Roswaal's eyes widened, recognition flickering across his face—followed by a thin, knowing smile.

"Hrnn… so it’s connected to Subaru then…"
Gojo muttered after seeing Roswaal's shift in expression before he turned toward the door, voice low and dry.

"I’ll look into it..."

As Gojo disappeared from view, Roswaal lay back, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

"To think that monster would show up here.. asking me to manipulate one of the most powerful people in Od Lagna..."

I would never work with that thing—the Witch of Vainglory, Pandora…
Under normal circumstances, at least…

He slid open a cabinet, retrieving a black-bound book. His gaze lingered on the cover, unreadable.

But this.. is far from normal.

"Don't worry… teacher… you will be free soon enough."

---

Gojo walked along the dirt-littered, silent path, a deep frown etched on his face as the sun began to dip behind the treetops.

The woman in my dream… she said to kill Pride. Does that mean… Subaru? But why?
Roswaal definitely knew something about it. He wouldn't have brought it up otherwise, cause it's not like that guy cares about Subaru's wellbeing. So what is it then? Some ancient evil corrupting his mind? Nah… nothing like that existed in any of those boring old history books I skimmed through.

"I doubt I can just ask Subaru either… Judging by how his personality's shifting, whatever's happening to him has got him in some kind of chokehold… or maybe a deal? Shit, I dunno..."

Gojo exhaled sharply, scratching the back of his head.
"All I can do is wait, I guess—"

Come...

A voice. Soft, yet echoing in every direction at once, and yet… he could tell exactly which way it wanted him to go.

His brows furrowed, but curiosity outweighed caution.

Without wasting a second, he bolted. Trees blurred beneath him as he leapt and bounded across the forest, moving at a speed most couldn’t even perceive. Moments later, his feet hit solid ground, sliding to a halt as a small cloud of dust billowed around him from the wind.

"A… temple?"
He muttered, eyes narrowing as he stared at the structure ahead. Tall stone steps, darkened entrance.

Come...

The voice again, drawing him forward like a tether.

Gojo didn't hesitate for a second. He climbed the steps and crossed the threshold that was the massive towering entrance. As soon as he entered, the world rippled—walls twisting like water disturbed by a pebble—and then… white. Blinding, disorienting white.

He winced behind the bandages covering his eyes, only relaxing when the brightness dimmed, revealing an entirely new scene.

A never-ending field of vibrant green stretched beneath a clear blue sky, warm sunlight casting soft shadows across the open plain.

"Huh…"

A voice, unfamiliar, drifted to him.

"Good day to you… Satoru Gojo."

His head snapped toward the source of the voice, sharp eyes locking onto a lone figure seated beneath a silver umbrella. A matching chair beside her, unoccupied. A silver table sat between them.

Long, flowing white hair caught the breeze. A black butterfly clip pinned neatly to the side of her head. Her eyes, impossibly dark—void-like pupils against porcelain skin.

"I am Echidna..." she introduced smoothly, "..The Witch of Greed."

Gojo blinked. No fear, no hesitation, just… intrigue. His steps were casual as he approached, plopping down into the chair across from her.

"Err.. cool, I guess."

Echidna's lips curled into a small, amused smile.
"'Cool'? Such an unusual reaction! The first visitor who arrived shared knowledge that rivaled my own of an entirely different world. The second… a peculiar boy with something even more peculiar lodged into his very being. And now you… a man utterly devoid of fear."

Gojo tilted his head, expression unreadable.

"Yeah, well… hard to be scared when you’ve seen the worst this world has to offer. Besides..." he gestured vaguely, "You seem more like the manipulative 'know-it-all' type than an actual threat in combat."

His eyes drifted across the endless field.
"Anyway… where is this exactly?"

Echidna's smile never wavered as she cupped a hand over her chest.
"Technically speaking, you’re still inside the tomb. But this… is a separate realm of my own creation. A little slice of reality just for the two of us!"

"Charming.." Gojo leaned forward slightly, resting an arm on the table. "So, you dragged me here because I 'interest' you?"

"Indeed. It's a rare privilege… a private conversation with the most knowledgeable being in existence. I can answer any question you desire, and I can tell that you have many…"

After a moment of silence, Gojo grabbed the tea cup in front of him and downed it in a single motion, setting it back down with a clink.
"Not really a tea guy, but… not bad."

Echidna's eyes widened, a faint blush creeping across her pale cheeks.
"Oh my…"

Gojo immediately cut her off, not even wanting to question the flustered look on her face.
"I don't even wanna know what's up with that look, more importantly... answers. Right.."

He drew the cursed tool from his side and placed it on the table. The silver dagger caught the light as Echidna's gaze flicked toward it, her expression unreadable.

"How the hell is this—a cursed tool from my world—even here?"

Echidna chuckled softly.
"Why, of course I know. Considering the fact that there are already multiple people from Earth that currently exist in Laguna, it shouldn't be that surprising."

She said with a knowing smile, before continuing.
"That weapon belongs to my contractee. He brought it here through coincidence."

Gojo frowned.
"Contractee…?"

"Self-explanatory, no? A contract with the Witch of Greed. He receives my vast knowledge and unwavering support… and in exchange, he offered something of equal value. I wouldn't normally agree, but he was quite clever in trying to manipulate me, so I made an exception."

Gojo's expression darkened.
"Who is it?"

"Ah…" Echidna leaned back, amusement flickering across her features.
"Unfortunately, you've come at the wrong time to meet him. But rest assured… another time will come.. he is out for your head after all."

Gojo clicked his tongue in irritation.
Never easy, is it…?

"Fine. Next question—Natsuki Subaru. How's he linked to this 'Pride'.. character..? entity..? thing..?"

Echidna brought her tea to her lips, sipping gracefully before setting the cup down, her fingers lacing together as she leaned in.

"Well.. I believe Pride is… a fragment of that boy’s soul. And yet, it isn’t at the same time. More simply, the Witch Factor of Pride reshapes that very part of his being—making it less an alter ego, and more a weapon of destruction. It carries his memories… his face… but it’s devoid of desire beyond one thing... complete control. Anarchy."

Gojo's eyes narrowed.
"Has it… ever taken over Subaru?"

"Once..." Echidna replied without hesitation. "At least… in this timeline.."

Gojo's gaze sharpened.
"Timeline?"

Echidna merely smiled, tapping a finger to her lips.
"That… I cannot explain. She would be most displeased if I did.. and the last time emotion got the better of her well... heh.."

Gojo exhaled through his nose, shaking his head and not even bothering to question what she meant.
"Figures. Alright, then how come Pride’s messing with Subaru's head? He’s been acting off—way off."

Echidna hesitated, something rare for her. Then, with an almost regretful sigh, she answered.
"Even I… lack omniscience at the moment. My understanding is pieced together from Subaru's words when we talked—deductions, theories. But I assure you… my theories are rarely ever wrong."

"Tch. 'Rarely' ain't good enough, but whatever…"

Echidna's eyes lifted toward the sky. The world around them began to shimmer, reality rippling once more.

"Our time here ends, I'm afraid."

Gojo just shrugged, before gesturing toward the empty tea cup infront of him.
"Any chance I can snag some of that tea? You got a special 'Witch' brand or whatever?"

A devious grin spread across her face.
"Unlikely~ Considering it's made from my body fluids.. but you're more than welcome to come back whenever you desire a cup or two."

Gojo froze, blinking twice.

Then—white. The tomb reformed around him. Cool stone. Silence.

"... What?"

---

Gojo walked with his eyes closed, palms cupped comfortably behind his head, a soft grin playing at his lips.

"I’d say that interaction was worth it. Though… albeit a bit random, but welcoming nonetheless."

He tilted his head slightly as he strolled.

I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to kill a specific piece of Subaru’s soul. Even I don’t know how to pull that off. But hey—knowledge is power.. apparently. And Echidna? That girl’s a sharp one.

Or I can just get Reinhard to, knowing him he's probably got some Divine Protection that allows him to do that.

He cracked open one eye just as an unfamiliar presence rapidly closed in behind him.

"Hooryah—!"
A fist tore through the air, its sheer force flattening the grass and rattling the nearby trees.

Gojo didn’t even flinch, of course. He simply stopped walking. So did the fist—frozen in place barely an inch from the back of his head.

"Urgh… what the—?!"
The attacker leapt backward in quick, cautious hops, opening several meters of distance before Gojo lazily turned around and gave a small wave.

"Yo."

"Tch… that bastard did say his teacher was a freakishly strong guy, but c’mon—that's just weird..."

Gojo raised a brow, his cerulean eyes beneath the bandages landing on the newcomer—spiky yellow hair, wild green pupils, shark-like teeth.

Fairly strong.. looks even younger than me aswell.. not too shabby.

"And you are…?"

"Name’s Garfiel Tinsel. Don’t take the punch personally. It’s just—your idiot student wouldn’t shut up about how strong you were while you were out cold. Had to see for myself."

Gojo tilted his head, utterly unbothered.

"Right, right. Speaking of my dearest student…" he gave a mock sigh. "Any chance you know where he is?"

"Tch… yeah. He’s taking the trial right now. As much as I was against it..."

Gojo’s eyes sharpened, the playful air around him tightening just a fraction.

"And Emilia?"

"She’s… not seeing anyone right now. Whatever that idiot said must’ve been brutal—princess's been locked in her room ever since."

Gojo clicked his tongue and casually flicked the air with his middle finger. The crack from the displaced force made even Garfiel flinch slightly, a chill racing down his spine.

"I’ll make sure to give my student the most painful flick on the ear I can manage. Believe me—mine hurt."

"Y-yeah, I don’t envy him." Garfiel gave a low whistle and jerked a thumb toward a nearby path. "You’ll find her in one of the smaller cottages, that way. See ya around, bro!"

With a casual wave, Garfiel turned and walked off.

Gojo sighed and shoved his hands back behind his head as he made his way to the cottage.

"Guess I should probably explain to her why Subaru’s acting like such a dick. Might take some of the sting off his words."

He stopped in front of the door, his fist hovering just inches from the wooden frame. Faint, muffled cries leaked through the cracks.

"Damn it… emotional stuff really ain’t my thing. Should’ve let Garfiel handle this.. actually he's probably worse than I am."
He rubbed the back of his neck, grumbling.

"I swear, I’m gonna give Subaru the mightiest flick in history.. Gonna throw in a red to make sure it hurts just that extra bit more."

Knock- Knock-

The crying stopped immediately. Long silence followed.

"I—I don’t want to see anyone right now…"

Her voice trembled, clearly an attempt to sound steady despite hours of crying.

"It’s uh… Gojo. Y’know, the one and only. Got a few things to say that might not completely suck to hear?"

Silence lingered, but then—click—the door creaked open. Emilia’s violet eyes were red and puffy, strands of silver hair clinging to her face. She didn’t meet his gaze. She just turned, shuffling back to sit on the edge of her bed like she was carrying the weight of the world.

Gojo stepped inside and grabbed the nearest wooden chair, spinning it around and straddling it backward.

"Man, this is awkward…" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair before forcing a half-hearted cough.
"You don’t have to pretend you’re not crying. You’re terrible at hiding it, by the way. I’m kinda a professional at reading people."

No response. She just sat there, small and quiet, like she might disappear if he looked away.

"Look, I’m gonna level with you. This ‘emotional support’ thing? Way outside my skill set..."

Her voice finally broke through, faint and brittle which Gojo inwardly was grateful for.

"Why… did Subaru say those things? He looked at me like I was a.. stranger. Like I… disgusted him.. it was like how everyone looked at me because of the fact I was a Half-Elf.. and that terrified me, because it's.. it's Subaru... one of the only people to treat me like I wasn't a... monster.."

Her fists trembled in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

Gojo’s playful grin had long since slipped away, his tone softening ass he finally decides to speak up.

"Right… soo… about that. He only said those things because he’s not in his right mind.."

Emilia’s head twitched slightly, her eyes flickering toward him.

"Not like… ‘oh he’s moody today’ or ‘he’s going through a second puberty’ or whatever. I mean something is actually messing with his head. Like… messing with who he is."

"Not… himself?" she whispered, barely daring to hope.

Gojo leaned back, arms draped over the chair’s backrest.

"Supposedly—don’t quote me on this—a piece of his soul’s gone rogue or something. An ‘alter ego’ or… something close to that. Honestly, it’s weird even by my standards."

He tapped his temple, then wagged his finger in a spiral motion.
"But that fragment’s twisting his head around in all the worst ways."

Emilia’s lips parted, a breathless laugh escaping—half relief, half exhaustion.

"So… he didn’t mean it…?"

Gojo’s expression softened further. He pointed at her, confident and clear.

"The real Subaru? No. Not a chance. The version you saw? That wasn’t all him."
His grin came back, sharp and full of fire.

"But don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I’ll rip that piece out, smack it upside the head a few times, and when this is all over, you two can go back to that weird lovey-dovey blushy nonsense you were doing before..."

Emilia wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, a tiny, genuine smile peeking through.

"You really… think you can fix it?"

Gojo chuckled, rising to his feet with a stretch.

"Think? Princess, it’s not even a question. Guy is my student after all. Smacking sense into him when he's being dumb is literally my job."

He made his way to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder.

"...Take your time, okay? Cry if you gotta. Means you care. There’s no shame in that."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him. His hands slipped behind his head again as he resumed his stroll toward his own cottage.

"Man… feelings. Definitely sticking to just being totally badass next time.."

His eyes trailed toward the night sky, where the stars lingered like grains of sand.

"Well.. I guess doing stuff like that every now and then ain't so bad..."

Notes:

finally, a chapter without fighting... a moment of respite!

Chapter 25: Hesitation.

Gojo's eyes trailed up to the pitch-black sky, endless stars scattered like flecks of paint across a dark canvas. Both arms rested casually behind his head as he lay flat against the grassy hilltop.

His expression was calm—peaceful, almost. Though hidden beneath the blindfold, his eyes were fixed on the vast, infinite sky above.

"I wonder what you're up to right now, Suguru..."

A quiet breath escaped his lips.

"Would you be sad…?"

"Would you be angry…?"

His eyes slipped closed—

At the time he truly found everything boring, the whole 'Jujutsu Sorcerer' job, having to fight curse after curse with not a single one even being able to lay a finger on him.

Having to follow orders from those old farts of both the Gojo clan and the higher-ups. They still wrung him dry despite the fact they no doubt wanted him, a special grade sorcerer, no... threat dead, and he almost regretted not doing something about it now.

He regrets not doing more back on Earth. He regrets taking everything good he had for granted.

BOOM—

A distant explosion tore through the air, the shockwave rippling across the quiet plains. Even the nearby trees trembled, their leaves quivering from the force.

Tch… the hell's going on?

Gojo was on his feet in an instant, his head turning toward the source of the chaos. His keen senses easily picked it up—the familiar, unstable pulse of Subaru's cursed energy lingering in the distance.

"Subaru…"

He pressed his palms together, fingers interlocking—
—and in the next instant, he vanished.

---

"Damn Witch Cultist!!"

Garfiel's roar shook the air as he lunged forward, fists crackling with raw, unfiltered power. A hook—then a jab—followed by a brutal kick that blurred through the air. Subaru weaved around the strikes, ducking and sidestepping as best he could.

But Garfiel's speed was relentless—his strength no less monstrous either.

CRACK—

The kick landed square in Subaru's stomach, forcing the air from his lungs as blood splattered from his lips. His body skidded across the ground, tearing through the grass and dirt.

"I shoulda NEVER let you take the trial in the first place—"

Garfiel's fist tore through the side of a tree as Subaru ducked, bark and splinters flying like shrapnel. He twisted his body, following up with a vicious backhand aimed at Subaru's skull.

"If I'd known THIS is all you amounted to—!"

Subaru barely evaded the strike, the wind from the blow whipping across his face. His own fist, cursed energy swirling around it, lashed forward—crashing against Garfiel's guard with enough force to blow him several meters back.

They both paused, standing off. Tension thick in the air.

"I'm not a Witch Cultist, damn it! I've told you already, so LISTEN to me!"
Subaru snapped, swiping an arm out in frustration.

"Oh yeah? That why you REEK of the witch's miasma, y'bastard?!"
Garfiel's foot stomped the ground, crimson energy flaring up his leg. The earth cracked beneath him—

SWOOSH—

A massive pillar of stone erupted from the ground, racing toward Subaru like a battering ram.

Subaru's fist, charged with cursed energy, shattered the pillar in a single blow. Fragments of rock and dirt rained down like a storm.

But Garfiel used the debris as cover. In the blink of an eye, he closed the gap again, fists colliding with Subaru's in a thunderous clash. The ground cracked and splintered outward beneath them.

"That's enough.."
The voice cut through the fight like a blade. Gojo descended from the air through the trees, not a speck or leaf landing on him as he softly touched down on the grass, hands still casually tucked in his pockets.

"I don’t see the point in this fight anymore. And this clearly isn’t some friendly spar."

Subaru's eyes narrowed, his focus still locked on Garfiel.
"How's that fair? He's the one that attacked me first."

Garfiel scoffed, baring his teeth.
"It ain't fair you idiot! I'm doing this to protect the village! You're just some outsider reeking of the Witch—taking trials that ain't yours to take!"

Subaru clenched his fists, cursed energy crackling around him like wildfire.
"I'm doing this for Emilia, for everyone! So she.. they all don't have to suffer anymore! And you're trying to stop me—?"

A lie.

His energy surged, his fist swinging forward with all his might toward Garfiel's face—

But the strike never landed.

A sudden pulling sensation—an invisible force yanked him backwards. His body flew through the air before slamming spine-first into a tree, knocking it over with a loud crash.

Subaru winced, gasping from the pain, eyes snapping up—

Gojo stood in front of him, completely untouched. His hands hadn't even left his pockets.

Even now… even now, even NOW…
He doesn’t even need to take his hands out of his pockets to deal with me…!

"I wonder…" Gojo's voice cut through Subaru's spiraling thoughts, unnervingly calm.
"Is this Subaru speaking? Or is it Pride now…? Has it gotten so deep into that head of yours I can't even tell anymore?"

Subaru froze, eyes wide.
"W-What…?"

In the very next moment... several black veins suddenly snaked down Subaru's arms, pooling in his palm, forming into a jagged spike of impure, lethal energy—aimed directly at his own heart. The attack moving of it's own accord, regardless of Subaru's will or intent.

But the spike never pierced.

Inches from his chest, the dark construct splintered apart, dissipating into harmless flecks that scattered in the wind.

Gojo lowered his hand, brows furrowed in quiet disapproval.
"Mind telling me what the hell's going on in that head of yours… preferably before you try to impale yourself again?"

He knows… he knows… he knows… HE KNOWS!
Why does he know? How does he know?!
He’s going to take Pride away from me…
I can’t let that happen… I refuse… I refuse to be weak again…

Subaru's eyes darted across the forest, chest rising and falling with uneven, pained breaths. His gaze snapped to Garfiel, still standing off in the distance—hesitant, confused. Then his eyes locked onto Gojo again.

The sorcerer tilted his head, brow raised at the silence.
"Well…?"

Subaru's jaw tightened. His lips parted, but the words caught in his throat.
".. Gojo… you—"

Gojo's light tone cut the tension for a moment, but Subaru could hear the steel beneath it.
"Not calling me 'sensei', huh? Might have to slap my dearest student upside the head ‘til he figures himself out you know…!”

Subaru’s palms pressed to the ground after a few seconds, but it wasn't cursed energy that began to surge, instead sheer authority.

He couldn't let this opportunity be taken away from him.
Without Pride, what was he? He had no techniques, no skills. Just stronger punches and kicks.
What good was that against someone like Gojo? Or Regulus?

“...Pride.”
He muttered under his breath, authority surging through his fingertips.

“Hm?”

The earth exploded upward.
Dozens of jagged, obsidian-black pillars erupted from the soil, ripping up bark and stone, spiraling toward Gojo with lethal intent.

Gojo's eyes widened beneath the blindfold—not in fear, but in genuine surprise.

Impressive. But odd.. I didn't teach him this.

Although he had no need to, he chose to disengage, vaulting several meters back, landing effortlessly as the tendrils of darkness dissipated into the air.

“Urgh…”
Subaru grimaced, wiping the blood trickling from his nose.

Any more than that, and your body’s going to break apart you know...

I don’t care, I’m fighting Gojo at his full strength, damn it—keep going!

Gojo stood silently, his playful smirk gone. His gaze trailed over Subaru's body, zeroing in—not just at the surface, but beyond. To the Od, to the Gate, to the dark thing festering beneath it all.

I’ve only seen that… once before. Regulus.
Whatever's inside him— It’s the catalyst for this… nonsense power. More like a curse than any sort of magic in this world, not even Divine Protections are so… odd for me to look at. I can't even understand it, just that it's there.

Gojo exhaled slowly, his tone deadly serious now.
“I don’t wanna fight you, Subaru. Not like this…”

Subaru stumbled forward, shoulders hunched, breaths ragged. Blood pooled from his nose and eyes, dripping to the grass.

“Why…?”
“‘Cause I’m weak…?”
“‘Cause I’m not worth your time…?”
“‘Cause I’m not PERFECT like you, huh?!”

His voice cracked with every word, arm swiping out with frustration. But he stopped short, panting.

“If I were you… If I had even a FRACTION of your power—"
"I wouldn’t have to…”
"I wouldn’t have to d—URGK!!”

His body buckled, hand clutching his chest, his cursed energy surging in rhythm with his spiraling emotions.
“Rrh… SHIT…!”

A bitter laugh escaped his throat, drenched in self-loathing.
“It’s not fair… Life’s not fair… yeah....”
"Goooojo... sensei...  you've got everything… EVERYTHING… handed to you. Power… skill… even in an entirely different world, you’re practically ROYALTY."

His voice cracked into a snarl.
“But me? I’ve got nothing. No future… no purpose…!"
"And now you… you wanna take away the one thing that finally gave me one…!?"

Gojo said nothing. But his eyes widened beneath the blindfold, chest tight with an unfamiliar sensation—one he didn’t particularly like.

Pity...
And guilt...
For not realizing the suffering Subaru was apparently going through, until it was too late.

He clenched his jaw, struggling to find the right words.
“…Subaru… I—”

He paused, forcing the words out in an attempt of calming Subaru down.
“I consider you a friend… No. A brother-”

Subaru’s expression darkened instantly.
“Don’t you dare… call me that.”

His voice cracked at the edges, drenched in venom.

“You… you don’t even know what I’ve been through because of you…”
“I finally started succeeding… finally winning…”
"And then YOU… kept showing up…"
"Fucking everything up, making me SUFFER!"

His fists trembled, his knees nearly buckling as he continued, breath hitching between sentences.
“He'd freeze the whole damn world over… I'd crush him beneath my boot… I'd rip them apart…"
“And then you’d show up… and…”

"Grrkk—"

Subaru choked mid-sentence, his body convulsing as he doubled over, hyperventilating. But even as his breathing fell apart, his cursed energy only climbed higher.

Gojo’s brows furrowed, his instincts sharp.

Just how deep has Pride sunk its claws into him?
He’s unraveling… But his cursed energy—it's…
If I didn’t have the Six Eyes keeping me hyper-efficient, I’d burn out long before he did—considering how he only uses reinforcement to fight, he's basically a never ending source of energy.

Subaru's hand clutched his face, fingers parting to reveal one bloodshot, hate-filled eye glaring up at Gojo.

A whisper of pride… of something other, leaked from his cracked voice.

“I think…”

A ragged breath.

“I hate you…”

Gojo’s heart sank—not from the words, but from the raw, broken finality of them.

“…Subaru…”

Pride… again, don't stop.

Subaru vomited blood as soon as that thought subsided, the taste sharp and metallic as fire burned through every vein in his body. It felt like his insides were being seared from within, like molten lead surging beneath his skin—but still, he flicked his wrist forward.

Black tendrils writhed from the ground, coiling, hardening into jagged blades that surged toward Gojo at speeds that shredded the wind.

Touch him… just once… even a scratch…

But Gojo didn't move. He didn't have to. The darkness froze, pausing just an inch from his body before collapsing into liquid shadows and vanishing altogether.

Subaru's body screamed in agony at the over-exertion of Pride's Authority, but he pushed it aside.

Again, and again, and again—darkness lanced toward Gojo, cutting through the air with desperate, hateful precision.

Eventually, Gojo raised a hand, blue light warping reality itself—like a black hole, it devoured the darkness, the very air around them. Trees snapped from their roots, soil ripped into the void until there was nothing left.

Gojo still hadn’t taken a single step. But Subaru—

Subaru kept persisting… kept attacking despite the pain that felt unlike anything he'd felt before.

"Please…"

Blood poured from his mouth, from his nose, from his eyes.

He wanted to prove himself.

"Just… a scratch…"

To show that he wasn't weak.

His voice cracked, raw with desperation. The darkness surged again, but Gojo's Blue devoured it all—reality folding like paper.

To show that he wasn't pathetic.

Subaru’s vision split into three. The world tilted and spun, but he still forced himself to his knees, trembling, sobbing, bile and blood dripping from his lips. His arm refused to fall. His hand remained raised, defiant, even as his veins bulged and burst beneath the skin.

A reason to not hate himself.

One scratch… that’s all I want…
Just one…

Gojo’s eyes softened behind the blindfold at Subaru's pain-stricken face. With a flick of his wrist, the Blue swallowed all but one of Subaru’s strikes.

And then, he deactivated Infinity.

SQUELCH—

The darkness pierced his solar plexus, straight through. It burst out his back, blood splattering to the ground.

Gojo coughed blood, raising his hand to shatter the spike from its base. His voice was quiet, level—but strained.

“Is that… good enough for you, Subaru?”

His footsteps echoed as he walked forward, skin and flesh already weaving back together, the gaping hole in his torso vanishing like it was never there in the first place, revealing the renewed skin in it's place.

“Did that… satisfy whatever anger you’re carrying right now?”

Subaru’s breathing hitched. His cursed energy still writhed, the black tendrils reappearing in an instant—sharpening, twisting—

They struck.

Gojo let them.

They tore into his arms, legs, chest—impaled him without resistance.

And yet… Gojo crouched down, snapping the spikes, blood staining his clothes, and wrapped his arms gently around Subaru’s trembling form, pulling him into an embrace.

“Grhh…”
Subaru froze, eyes wide, arm finally falling limp to the ground as his body finally betrayed him. Blood pooled beneath him.

"I’m not exactly a… people person… if that wasn't obvious already.."
Gojo muttered, voice low, words spoken just for him.
"But even for me… this isn't a fight I want to win."

Subaru's body tensed, every part of him ready to recoil—but the warmth in Gojo’s voice didn’t waver.

"I’m a selfish guy… I’d level a city before I let a friend.. a brother die."
The words weren’t a joke. Not this time.

"So please, man… stop carrying whatever you're carrying on your own. You’ve never been alone… not once."
"I’m your friend."
"Emilia… she feels something even more than that."
"Rem… would burn the world for you."
"Even Ram, with all her sharp edges, doesn’t hate you—despite how she may act."

The holes in Gojo’s body sealed, skin flawless once more.

"So let us help you… whatever you're going through… if it’s strength you want, you’ve already got it. You’ve got potential, Subaru."
"Even I didn’t become the strongest sorcerer overnight after all."

Subaru’s eyes widened, the walls cracking—finally. The bitterness, the hatred, the loneliness—he saw it now. He saw how blind he'd been.

What the hell… have I been doing…?

In the deepest corner of the abyss, Pride scowled and clicked his tongue.

And then, without warning—

SPLURCH—

A monstrous spike of darkness erupted from the ground, impaling both of them clean through the back and front.

“U-Urghk…!”

“Grhk—!?”

Gojo stumbled back, another gaping wound torn through his chest—flesh ripping apart. It would’ve been fatal, for almost anyone else. But his reverse cursed technique kicked in—barely keeping him upright.

Subaru didn’t have that luxury, unfortunately.

He collapsed backward, eyes wide, pupils dilated—blood pooling beneath him as his vision faded. The sky swirled above—the moon, the trees—their leaves drifting down like falling ash.

Everything dulled.

“Shit—Subaru!?”

The world slipped away. Cold fingers crept in.

Footsteps.

"Reinhard?!—why are you—no, it doesn’t matter—"

Everything was so cold. So familiar. Death had its fingers around him again, gentle but inevitable.

"You’ve gotta have something… heal him… do something, anything damn it!"

The last thing Subaru saw was the moon, full and pale, before the darkness devoured him whole yet again.

---

The Throne Room, Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica...

Tall marble columns loomed over the circular chamber, their gilded edges glinting as the sun filtered through the stained glass windows. The air was thick with authority—an almost overwhelming weight carried by those seated overhead.

The Wise Men, the political and mystical arbiters of Lugnica, sat in solemn silence, their eyes fixed on the object floating at the table’s center.

The Dragonstone Tablet never lied, it promised utter devastation if left unkept.

The eldest of the Wise Men, Miklotov McMahon, his silver hair falling to his shoulders, broke the silence. His voice was cold, tempered by decades of command.

"The Tablet's prophecy is clear. A threat soon-to-be equal to the Witch of Envy walks among us. It did not give a name… merely a title, but based off that alone it's obvious what is to blame."

Beside from him, Bordeaux Zergev, the heavyset, former warrior, wrung his wrinkled hands together. His large blue brow glistened with unease.

"A being whose existence as a threat rivals… her? It shouldn't be possible. The Witch Cult has been quiet since the Archbishops… incident.."

"The stone does not lie..." Miklotov stated, voice dry but settled with unease. "We cannot afford the luxury of skepticism. If this Pride is as big a threat as the stone implies… delaying action is a death sentence for us all."

The chamber door creaked open.

All three Wise Men turned their gaze as Reinhard van Astrea entered, his crimson hair catching the faint light, eyes sharp and unwavering. His presence alone filled the room with an unmistakable weight.

"I have arrived, by your order.."
Reinhard said, bowing his head politely.

Miklotov rose to his feet, hands folded behind his back.

"A mission. One of utmost urgency—and utmost discretion."
"A threat has surfaced… one of Witch-like magnitude."
"The Dragonstone speaks of Pride—an anomaly shrouded in mystery, yet supposedly threatening enough to rival Satella herself."

Reinhard's expression remained composed, though a flicker of tension pulsed behind his eyes.
"Pride..."

Miklotov nodded.

"We have no name. No confirmed appearance. Only energy readings… and the stone's warning. The epicenter lies near the forested outskirts of the Roswaal Domain."

Reinhard's posture stiffened imperceptibly at the mention of Roswaal.

I hope they are all doing well. Subaru... Miss Emilia.

"And you wish for me to… eliminate them?"
He asked, though it wasn't truly a question.

Bordeaux spoke up.

"Swiftly."
"We cannot risk hesitation. If this being—whoever they are—is truly a threat that can rival the Witch of Envy, their continued existence threatens not just the kingdom but Lugnica's entirety."
"The public must never know. Quietly. Cleanly."

The chamber fell into silence once more.

Reinhard's gaze drifted briefly to the ground. Something gnawed at his instincts. An unshakable feeling—like there was something deeper at play.

Still, orders were orders, he could not neglect the Wise Men and the Tablet because of a gut feeling.

"I understand."
Reinhard said at last, his voice low but resolute.

"I will locate this Pride—and, if necessary, I will carry out the execution."

He turned toward the exit trailing behind him.

---

His eyes shot open, chest heaving, every muscle locked tight with adrenaline. The air was cold—sharp—and the solid, stone-slab floor beneath him sent a chill crawling up his spine. Faint blue light pulsed across the domed ceiling of the tomb, reflecting off the jagged walls like eerie veins of lightning.

Subaru winced, pushing himself upright. His body ached.

What an annoying loop.

It had sent him multiple days back, all the way to when he had returned to the Sanctuary with Ram, and the unconscious, injured Gojo.

His brows furrowed, teeth grinding together.

"Fuck… Pride.. I've asked already but why....?"
"Why kill me back there...?"

The voice in his head—oily, smug, dripping with condescension—answered without delay.

It was for your own good.
His words were sinking in… burrowing under your skin… ruining everything I've built.
You were this close to forgetting why you're even here, and I …don't take kindly to being neglected.

Subaru clenched his fists, cursed energy flickering faintly around his fingertips in annoyance as he forced himself to his feet.

"What the hell are you—"

No.
Shut up.
Shut your mouth.

Pride's voice was a serrated whisper now, curling around his skull like barbed wire.

You should be thanking me.
Basking in my glory like I'm a god.
I am the gift you begged for like a dog—the power, the strength—the only thing that makes you matter.
And you almost… threw it away.

Subaru's lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing as he staggered toward the tomb's exit, down the worn steps, and into the forest beyond.

The morning mist clung to the treetops, the scent of earth and dew heavy in the air. But even as he walked, a gnawing sense of dread twisted in his gut—like he'd forgotten something obvious.

CRASH—!

His instincts screamed too late.

A body slammed into him with the force of a freight train, arms coiled tight around his waist like steel cables. His back cracked through a thick tree trunk—the wood splintering like matchsticks as they tumbled to the ground around his body.

"Guh—!"
Subaru's boots dug into the soil, cursed energy instinctively flooding his legs. He slammed to a halt with surprising strength, feet carving twin trenches into the earth. He snapped his head down—

Familiar golden hair. Emerald eyes wide with both shock and raw aggression.

"Garfiel…"
Subaru's fist swung without thinking, knuckles humming with cursed energy. It connected with Garfiel's hastily formed guard, the force blasting him backward. The impact shattered the air, a deep boom reverberating across the clearing as Garfiel skidded across the ground, leaving claw marks in the dirt.

The feral boy rolled to his feet, muscles taut, eyes sharp and glinting with suspicion. He flexed his arms, the bruises along his forearms already darkening.

"Oi…"
Garfiel's voice was low, wary.
"The hell are you doin', eh..?"

Subaru exhaled sharply, exasperation boiling just beneath the surface.

"I tried to give ya the benefit o' the doubt, y'know…" Garfiel lowered his stance, fists still raised.
"Your teacher's… interestin'. Strong. Almost had me convinced."

His eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkling as though smelling something foul.

"But the scent…" His voice tightened, jaw flexing.
"The miasma—it’s worse now. Overpowerin’."

Subaru's teeth ground together, his patience snapping like brittle glass.

"Tch… it's not because I'm some Witch Cultist, damn it—"
"It’s 'cause of some stupid, fucked-up circumstances I didn’t even ask for!"

Garfiel's expression didn't waver. His eyes—those sharp, animalistic eyes—drilled into Subaru, untrusting, cold.

"Fucked-up or not… you reek like her..."
"An' where there's the Witch's stink, there's danger."

He let out a deep breath.

“…Look, alrigh—”

A fist blurred toward his face—Subaru instinctively stepped back, narrowly evading the strike that split the air where his head had been a fraction of a second prior. The wind whipped past him, ruffling his hair.

Another strike came instantly, a vicious hook aimed for his ribs. He pivoted, just barely sliding around it.

He’s fast.
Of course he was. He was fast in the last loop, too.

SWISH—

Subaru’s forearm shot up, cursed energy flooding the limb just in time to block Garfiel’s sweeping roundhouse. The force rattled his bones, his body skidding backward along the dirt.

The cursed energy guarding his arm cracked like glass, bruising the flesh beneath.

“Tch.”
Subaru vaulted into a somersault, twisting mid-air to face Garfiel as he landed behind him—barely avoiding another swipe that skimmed too close for comfort. He had an opening, but he didn’t strike. Instead, he leapt back, widening the distance.

Garfiel noticed. His glare sharpened over his shoulder.

“The hell’re you doin’?!”
“I’m tryna take your life here, and you ain’t even fightin’ back?!”

Subaru chuckled, massaging his bruised forearm, forcing lightness into his voice.

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying for me too—but I want to prove I’m not a cultist like you’re saying.”

Garfiel’s eyes narrowed, an orange aura blazing around his arm as he lunged forward.

“SUIT YA’SELF THEN—!”

Subaru’s eyes shot wide, his legs coiling tight before he launched himself backward—narrowly dodging the monstrous, furred claw that smashed into the ground, shattering it with brutal force.

I should’ve expected it. Frederica’s the same…

He landed hard, his body already moving in a roll as pure instinct screamed in his ears. A deafening blast of wind ripped past him, snapping a thick tree in half, launching bark and dirt skyward.

He barely raised his head before the hand was already there.

“Ghh—!”

Both arms shot up, grabbing Garfiel’s yellow-furred wrist as the two locked into a dead stalemate. Subaru’s legs trembled, sinking deeper into the ground as the weight pressed him further and further down. His veins bulged, his muscles screaming.

Garfiel’s lips curled, shark-like teeth glinting in the moonlight as his other arm swelled with the same beastly transformation.

Fuck—

“WAIT—WAIT, DAMN IT!”

Desperation poured from Subaru’s voice, getting hit by that would not be fun.

“If I was a cultist, do you really think my teacher would’ve stuck around?! He would’ve killed me! Would Roswaal let me live if I was one of them? Hell no he wouldn’t!”

Garfiel’s grip wavered slightly, hesitation creeping into his stance.

“I’ve even talked to Reinhard, damn it—the strongest guy in the whole damn world! You think he didn’t notice this stink? You think he wouldn’t have ended me if I was a cultist?!”

For a brief moment, Garfiel faltered.

The pressure relented. He shoved Subaru backward with a grunt, frowning deeply.

“Tch… I’m trustin’ ya… just this once.”
“But break that trust, and you’re dead. I’ll rip ya apart for real next time.”

Subaru grimaced, breathing heavily.
“Yeah. Got it. Loud and clear.”

“Well… that was anticlimactic!”
Gojo’s voice rang out cheerfully, perched lazily beneath a nearby tree, cross-legged and grinning.

Subaru didn’t answer. His jaw locked tight at the sight of him.

What was he supposed to feel, really?

Should he hate him?
Should he loathe him?
Should he trust his words?

You’ve got me. That’s all you need.
The voice inside—the voice of Pride—slithered through his thoughts, its hooks digging deeper.

“That’s a peculiar reaction..”
Gojo’s usual smirk faded as he rose, brushing away nonexistent dust.

STEP—

In an instant, Gojo vanished, appearing in front of Subaru with impossible speed. It wasn’t teleportation—it was just that fast.

A hand clutched Subaru’s collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

“So… is it Subaru, or Pride I’m speaking to?”

Subaru gritted his teeth, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Then he grinned, baring his teeth.
“Ahaha… the hell are you talking about, dumbass?!”

Gojo didn’t let go. His voice was level, but colder than usual.

“I noticed. Of course I noticed. There’s nothing these eyes can’t see. That hesitation.. when I said those words..”

His grip tightened.

Blood trickled from Subaru’s nostrils as a wave of black spikes erupted violently from the ground, aiming to skewer both Gojo and Garfiel where they stood.

Gojo’s body moved in a blur, yanking Garfiel back as he let Subaru drop, blitzing out of the darkness's range in an instant.

“…And the look of realization when you knew I figured it out.”

Subaru wiped the blood from his face, tilting his head, voice hollow.

I didn’t even ask you to attack that time.
You just did it anyway, huh?

Pride said nothing.

Subaru’s jaw tensed.
I’ll have to redo all of this, won’t I?
Gojo knows. He’s onto me.  His words—maybe—held some truth… but right now, what I need is power. I can’t wait years to become strong. I need it now.

Subaru crouched, pressing a palm to the earth.

“Pride… all the power I can take. Just enough that I can survive it...”

The agony came instantly—his flesh tearing, blood weeping from his eyes, his veins bulging and threatening to rupture. Every use of Pride’s Authority when Subaru was in control shredded his body from the inside out. But he was growing used to the pain, little by little with each usage.

Still—what he could draw out was a pale imitation of what Pride could wield.

But Subaru wouldn’t let him fully take control.

Because Pride would kill everyone.

Even now… Subaru didn’t want that.

The earth split, and a single, colossal spike surged upward—dozens of meters tall, wide enough to block the moon from his point of view, its silhouette casting a jagged shadow across the sanctuary. Its presence alone felt wrong—an unholy monolith that shouldn’t exist.

His right arm was ruined—flesh mangled, veins shredded internally.

Subaru didn’t wait. He turned and fled, sprinting through the forest, pushing his battered body as far as it would take him.

What now?
Do I kill myself? Try to reset and figure out how Gojo figured it out?

But a voice—sharp, resolute—cut through his spiral.

“That’s enough fleeing… Archbishop of Pride.”

He froze mid-step.

A chill like ice water crawled up his spine.

In any other situation—he would’ve welcomed that voice. It would’ve been a relief.

But now? Now it was the worst possible outcome.

Slowly, he turned.

Reinhard van Astrea stood before him, sword at his side, gaze steady.

“…”

“In accordance… to…”

But his voice faltered the moment Subaru faced him.

There was confusion—then pain—in his eyes normally stoic gaze.

“Su…baru…?”
Reinhard’s voice hitched.

“Rein…”
Subaru muttered, exhausted.

“What brings you… here?”

Reinhard’s fists suddenly loosened, and his eyes widened even further.

“I… that… that can’t be right. There’s can't be right…”
His eyes flicked with disbelief.

But that disbelief was sheer negligence from him. After all, the stone tablet never lies.

“Subaru… are you… Pride?”

Subaru breathed slowly, the answer weighing heavily in his throat.

“…No.”

Reinhard winced.

Of course he could tell it was a lie.

Pride was part of Subaru’s soul.

And there was no separating the two anymore.

The air between them stretched thin, suffocating.

Subaru could see it in Reinhard's eyes—the confusion, the denial. But beneath it all, the unwavering steel of duty was beginning to rise, cracking through the surface like a blade drawn from its sheath.

“Rein… listen to me.”
His voice was raw, strained from the pain clawing through his body.
“You know me. You know I’m not… like them..”

Reinhard took a slow step forward, every movement controlled, precise. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. But the dragon blade, it refused to heed his call, to exit it's hilt against Subaru.

“I want to believe that.. I.. do... believe that.”
His voice was quiet, brittle around the edges, hesitant.

“But you… that spike… that power… it's only a matter of time..”

Subaru's jaw clenched.
“It wasn’t me, Rein.. You know how this works. You know I’ve got… baggage. But I’m still Subaru. I’m still the guy who—”

“—Who risked his life for others..” Reinhard finished, sorrow twisting his features.

“Who protected Miss Emilia. Who threw himself into danger for people he barely knew.”
He shook his head, heartbreak leaking into his voice.

“But now…?”

Subaru said nothing. His silence was louder than words.

“You attacked.. Satoru. You conjured that… malevolence.”
Reinhard's fingers moved from his blade at the understanding that it couldn't be unsheathed against Subaru.

“Do you know what the stone tablet says about Pride? About the—about you who carries that sin? It speaks of disaster. Of corruption, across the entire world.”

Subaru's hands trembled.
“So thats it..?” His voice cracked.
“You’re gonna trust some ancient rock over me..? After everything?!”

“..It’s never been wrong..” Reinhard’s words were quiet.
“And it hurts to say that. More than you can imagine..”

A heavy silence settled.

The forest around them was still. The moon hung heavy overhead, casting silver light on Subaru's battered body and the faint, black corruption still clinging to his veins.

Reinhard’s expression softened for a moment, his grip easing.
“Please… surrender. Come back. Let us help you.. Let me help you..”

Subaru almost broke. Almost let the tears fall. But the voice in his head—the serpentine whisper of Pride—coiled around his thoughts.

He won’t help you. He can’t. The moment you lower your guard… you die. Just like always. Just like at the mansion.

“You don’t… understand…”
Subaru muttered, knuckles whitening.

“I can’t… surrender.”
His eyes flicked up, burning with defiance.

The agonizing expression only surged further upon the Sword Saint's expression.
“..I was afraid you’d say that.”

“…So that’s it. You’re going to kill me..?”

Reinhard's jaw tightened.
“If I don't… you’ll only fall further…” His voice wavered.

The ground beneath Subaru quaked faintly, black tendrils creeping out along the soil despite his lack of intent.

Pride’s quiet laughter echoed inside him.

“I’m still me…!”
Subaru roared, cursing his body’s betrayal, the power he couldn’t control.

He reached for the second blade at his side, a far-cry from the Dragon Sword Reid, merely a regular steel blade he'd brought with him on the off-chance Reid would deny being pulled out, but still an overwhelming weapon of destruction in the hands of the Sword Saint.

“I-I’m.. truly sorry...” Reinhard’s voice cracked, but his grip never wavered.
“I will bear this sin for both of us..”

Subaru's vision blurred with unshed tears, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. His body screamed in protest, his arm mangled, his energy drained—but he still forced himself upright, trembling with defiance.

“Let's get this over with... then.”
His voice shook, but his glare was steady.

Reinhard’s expression fractured, just for a breath—grief, pain, and that unshakable exhaustion resting beneath his noble facade.

“Only I deserve to be a monster…” He whispered, voice low enough that it barely reached Subaru’s ears.
“Not you. Someone like you deserves far better.”

The words should've offered comfort.
Instead, they twisted the knife in Subaru’s gut even deeper.

Reinhard let out a slow breath—steadying himself, burying every ounce of pain behind that familiar, unbreakable resolve. His hands gripped the hilt of the steel blade, raising it before him, its silver sheen faintly reflecting Subaru's broken form beneath the moonlight.

“Reinhard Van Astrea.”
His voice rang out with finality—the voice of a knight, a legend, a man preparing to kill one of his only and closest friends to protect the world.
“..The Sword Saint.”

Subaru’s shoulders tensed, instinct and futility warring inside him. His battered limbs refused to fall idle, despite every part of his mind screaming that this was pointless.

Even still, he forced his feet apart, settled into a shaky stance, blood dripping from his one raised arm, the other dangling limp.

His eyes met Reinhard's.

“Natsuki Subaru.”
His voice wavered, but the words came anyway.
“..Pride.”

They both stepped.

It didn’t matter, of course.. It didn’t matter how fast Subaru moved, how much cursed energy screamed through his battered limbs, how much Pride whispered, hissed, begged for him to retaliate.

It was over before Subaru even registered the movement.

A flash. A blur. A cut across space in an instant.

No pain. No sound. No light.

Just nothing.

Death.

And then—darkness.

Notes:

A bit of a long one I know! Just felt like writing more than usual for some reason.

Chapter 26: The Infallible Sword Saint. (1)

Loop 1

The very next time, Subaru thought he could reason with him.. after all, Reinhard was a nice guy. There was no doubt about that in the slightest.

Days passed. They returned to the Sanctuary, Ram indifferent, Gojo unconscious and slung over his shoulder like luggage.

Subaru thought.
This time, I’ll explain.. Reinhard's a good guy... he'll believe me.

Reinhard arrived the same way. Somehow. Quiet, gentle, his sword still sheathed. His eyes already grieving.
And still—he killed him. Swift. Subaru woke up. Painless.

Loop 4

Hide. Subaru tried hiding this time. Deeper in the forest. Far beyond the Sanctuary’s borders. Gojo warned him about something… but it didn't matter.

Reinhard still found him.
Sword unsheathed only at the last second. An apology whispered like a prayer. Subaru died in the dirt, breath frozen in his throat. Painless.

Reinhard's a good guy...

Loop 7

Attack first. Pride took over. Black spikes erupted like a forest of death. The ground cracked, the trees screamed, the sky blackened—

Reinhard’s blade never even left its sheath.
A single step. A single flash.
Subaru’s body collapsed in pieces, vision swimming in the blood pooling beneath him. Painless.

Reinhard's... a good.. guy..?

Loop 11

Subaru begged. He groveled. Hands scraped raw from clawing at Reinhard’s boots.
The Sword Saint's eyes trembled with regret… but the blade still fell. Painless.

Reinhard..

Loop 15

Total surrender. Subaru let Pride run wild. Destroyed villages. Killed nameless soldiers in his own internal despair. Became exactly what Reinhard feared.
It didn’t matter.
It never did.
Reinhard wept when he killed him that time. Subaru almost pitied him, as his skull split beneath steel. Painless.

Please no more...

Loop 20

Sanity began to slip.
What was real, what was not?

The moment he woke up, before Ram even noticed the twitch behind his eyes, Subaru’s hands shook uncontrollably.
His reflection in the window smirked at him.

It was only day one… but the clock was already ticking.
Subaru screamed into his pillow that night. His voice cracked and died by morning. 

Loop 24

Ram noticed.
“...Barusu?”
Her voice, uncharacteristically soft. Concern bleeding into the usual venom.
Subaru flinched at her hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t real. She’d be dead again soon anyway.

Loop 29

He read books instead...
Hoping to find anything, anywhere...
Eventually he killed himself.
Rope. Knife. Poison.

The loops still started. Still reset. Still dragged him through the days like a puppet.

Loop 34

Gojo attempted to stop Reinhard alongside him.
It didn't help.
Even that monster's cursed technique couldn’t save him. Not when Reinhard decided to truly act.
Limitless couldn’t counter the inevitable.
Neither could Subaru. Painless.

Sword Saint..

Loop 41

Subaru stopped sleeping altogether.
Eyes sunken, voice ragged. He muttered numbers under his breath constantly—
“Forty-one. Forty-one. Forty-one...”
Ram slapped him. It barely registered.

Loop 40.. something..

Pride ran the whole loop once more.
Subaru watched from the backseat. Eyes wide, helpless, a passenger in his own ruined body.
Villages burned. The Sanctuary shattered.
Reinhard still killed him. Painless.

He's a monster...

He lost count...

He didn’t speak.
Didn’t eat.
Didn’t cry.
Just waited.

When Reinhard finally arrived… Subaru simply opened his arms, head tilted back.

“Do it.”
The Sword Saint hesitated… just for a moment.
But the result was the same. Painless.

He's unbeatable...

He lost count...

The voices never stopped.
Gojo's lectures.
Pride’s promises.
Ram’s insults.
Garfiel attacking him.
Reinhard’s apologies.

A constant hum, even when he plugged his ears.
Even when he clawed at his own skull until blood stained his palms.

He's unkillable...

He lost count...

The line between life and death blurred.
Between Subaru and Pride.
Between memory and nightmare.
The loops stretched endlessly, days bleeding into weeks, weeks collapsing into moments before inevitable, inescapable death.

And yet… he still woke up.

Every. Damn. Time.

A quiet, gnawing realization wormed its way into his fractured mind:
“Aaahhahahaa.. There’s no winning this...”
“..But there’s no dying either...”

The worst kind of hell.
The one where death wasn’t punishment.

---

Time was a myth now. Days bled into nights, nights collapsed into loops, and the loops blurred into a maddening purgatory. Subaru stopped counting at some point — fifty, sixty, eighty… maybe more of the same three days repeated for almost a year.

The wooden hut was the same every time. Four walls. One table. A chair. A battered, ink-stained map of Lugnica and the world beyond stretched across the wood.

His eyes—bloodshot, hollow—scanned every inch of it for the hundredth time, nails gnawed down to the quick, fingertips raw with anxious scabs.

His hair was matted, tangled like dried weeds. His clothes hung loose on his frame. His lips were chapped, cracked open like brittle parchment.

But his mind?

His mind refused to break completely.

The Augria Sand Dunes…

That was it. That had to be it.

An impossible place, a cursed, lifeless desert the size of a small kingdom. If there was any location in the world where fate itself would struggle to function, where the Sword Saint's blessed, divine protections might weaken, even if for an instant…

It would be there.

Subaru clutched his head, fingers clawing through his spiked black hair. His breathing hitched. Pride's voice hummed in his skull, serpentine and sickeningly amused.

You've finally stopped chasing fairytales of survival… Good. Now? Now, we plan to kill a god..

Subaru didn't respond. He didn't have to.
The map was stained now. Blood pooled across the parchment as a black spike burst through his chest—

The pain was a dull whisper now. He barely noticed. Subaru's body slumped forward, eyes dimming, lips twitching in a final, stubborn grin.

I will survive.

The words echoed through the walls. Through his dying mind. Through the endless spiral of rebirth.

I will survive.

No matter how many times his ribs shattered.
No matter how many forests burned.
No matter how many friends, allies, strangers died screaming as collateral to this cursed loop.

No matter how often his soul may fracture into pieces…

I will survive.

Right…?

---

The familiar nausea. The sting of bile in his throat. The taste of time resetting.

Ram’s voice again.
“Barusu, wake up.”

The Sanctuary's cold breeze through the window.
Gojo unconscious in a hut nearby.
The same damned day he's went through almost a hundred times.

Subaru exhaled slowly, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.

This time… he was heading for the Sand Dunes, he had a proper plan, a chance, an opportunity unlike any other prior.
If fate, destiny, and divine blessings played by the rules everywhere else—then he'd simply go where the rules broke down entirely.

Reinhard would take atleast two more days to get there judging by how he came on the third day every single time. That's plenty of time to travel across Lugunica with Patrasche.

---

The Augria Sand Dunes.

Endless.

Unforgiving.

A wasteland of scorching sun and nightmarish beasts that made the forests of Lugnica look tame.

The horizon shimmered with heat haze, and the sand beneath Subaru’s boots burned like smoldering coals. His clothes clung to his body with sweat, dirt, and blood. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his lips were cracked open from dehydration.

But he kept going.

Because she kept going.

Patrasche.

The black Earth Dragon, the only thing in this gods-forsaken world that still carried him without hesitation, even after loop upon loop of agony.

Her flanks rose and fell with labored breaths, scales dusted in sand, but her sharp eyes scanned the dunes tirelessly.

"Good girl… just a little more.."
Subaru muttered hoarsely, patting her side as they crested another dune.

Beneath them, sprawling like a cracked, desolate scar, the dunes stretched for miles—bleached bones of long-dead creatures poking through the sand like jagged teeth.

And among them, the shadows moved.

Mabeasts.

They stalked him relentlessly. The dunes were their domain. Sand wyrms that swam beneath the surface like sharks. Spindly, monstrosities with chitinous shells and fanged mandibles. Beasts mutated beyond nature’s design, crafted specifically for the harsh environment of the desert.

And they all wanted him dead.

Or worse.

Subaru’s bloodied hand flexed at his side, black tendrils of Pride's Authority flickering faintly beneath the surface of his skin.

Pride was… quiet, for once. Watching. Smiling.

He wasn’t fully in control yet. Subaru wouldn’t allow that. Not here. Not yet.

But to survive these dunes… he'd need that power.

The sand shifted. The ground rumbled.

Screech-!!

A serpentine maw erupted from beneath the sand, scales glistening like molten glass, jaws wide enough to swallow both him and Patrasche whole.

Subaru didn't hesitate.

"Now!"

Patrasche darted sideways, hooves kicking up sand as the massive beast burst forth. At the same time, Subaru’s arm snapped forward, black spikes erupting from the ground, impaling the creature through its gaping maw.

It shrieked, blood—dark and steaming—pouring from the wounds as it writhed, flailing its body in the sand.

The ground quaked again. More movement. More of them.

Subaru's lips peeled back in a snarl, his eyes burning red with strain from the authority.

"You picked the wrong prey."

Another lunged—massive, feral—but Subaru bent his knees and twisted sharply, launching himself off Patrasche’s back in an eruption of cursed energy that cracked the air.

He wasn't stronger. Not physically. Not after the same hellish three days over and over.
But skill? Control? Precision? He had honed those to lethal perfection.
The Authority of Pride, once a chaotic, volatile force, could now be wielded minutely with minimal pain.

Darkness pulsed through his veins—thick, viscous, alive—before contorting, stretching into an obsidian blade that hissed with pride. Subaru twisted mid-air, dragging the blade down the length of the colossal mabeast.

The flesh peeled apart like paper. A single, clean, ruthless gash cleaved across its body as Subaru landed first, the weight of the beast crashing down behind him like a dying mountain.

He exhaled slowly, the blade dissipating in a shadowy wisp as he whispered:

"'Till there's none left."

---

The battlefield fell silent. He had long ago told Patrasche to flee. Although it took a moment of motivation, his trusty ground dragon eventually left. Dozens of monstrous corpses lay scattered around him like fallen titans, their twisted forms painting the sand with blood and shadow.

Subaru sat atop the still-warm body of the largest, eyes locked on the distant silhouette of the Pleiades Watchtower, its spire clawing at the night sky. The moon hovered, high and proud, casting its silver gaze upon him.

What do you think of stars, Pride?

I'm literally you. So that's your answer.

Subaru's eyes narrowed.
He spotted it—a star that moved. Fast. Controlled. Intentional.

He was here.

The Sword Saint.

Subaru closed his eyes and exhaled, his body tensing not with fear, but with simmering anticipation.
Seventy deaths to Reinhard. Eighty failures at least.
But tonight…?
Tonight, it was different.

He stayed seated atop the corpse as the red comet touched down, the earth quaking beneath Reinhard's arrival.

Reinhard's eyes widened, disbelief painted across his face as he recognized the figure perched atop the carnage.

"You're… Pride?"

Subaru stretched his arms lazily, shadows coiling around him like smoke.

"Yeep. I am Pride, Pride is me… yadda yadda, you know the drill.. well you actually don't I guess.."
His voice held no fear, only annoyance, words on the cusp of insanity, sharp as a blade.

Reinhard's fists unclenched, his expression faltering, regret creeping into his features.
"...Subaru… how… why…?" His voice cracked, haunted. "Do you even know what the stone tablet says about Pride? About the one who carries that sin…?"

Subaru rolled his eyes, voice drenched in mockery.
"Yeah, yeah. Disaster, corruption, end of the world. Heard it before, Red."

Reinhard's gaze hardened, grief twisting into bitter resolve as his hand drifted to the hilt of his blade. Not the Dragon Sword Reid—the world still denied him that honor—but the second steel sword at his side, preparing to unsheathe it.

"In accordance with the prophecy and the Order of the Wise Men…" Reinhard declared, voice steady as steel.
"..I will slay Pride and bring prosperity to the Dragon Kingdom..."

Subaru chuckled, lowering his head as Pride slithered to the surface.
His posture shifted—loose, yet predatory. His words turned venomous.

"Pride. Just Pride." His neck cracked as he straightened, obsidian blade manifesting with a low hum.
"The one who's going to slay the strongest Sword Saint in history."

Reinhard's brows furrowed.
That manner of speech. That stance. That… presence.
It wasn't Subaru—not the one he had came to befriend.
And for the first time in a long while, the Dragon Sword Reid stirred, humming with excitement.

Subaru—no, Pride—smirked. His words laced with cruel certainty.

This desert's miasma fuels me. Strengthens me. And will only weaken Reinhard more and more overtime.

"This is my peak. The best I'll ever be.."

Reinhard reached back, hand grasping Reid's hilt.
Reality groaned. The dunes quaked. The air itself trembled as the strongest sword in existence wailed for release.

And then...

Two steps.
Two heartbeats.

A colossal pillar of searing light erupted skyward, annihilating clouds in the atmosphere and vaporizing sand, casting a divine glow that span and lit up the entirety of the desert, outshining the watchtower itself that lingered in the distance.

The battlefield shattered.
Mabeast corpses disintegrated.
A crater dozens of meters deep split the earth, stopping mere inches from Reinhard's feet.

STEP—SWOOSH—!

Smoke curled. Shadows danced to the side.
Pride surged through the haze, ebony blade cleaving upward in a wide, vicious arc.

CLANK—!!

Reid met darkness incarnate.
The impact detonated a hurricane of shockwaves, sand screaming into the sky like meteor shards.

The desert floor liquefied, molten glass bursting upward.
Thousands of crystalline fragments caught the moonlight, suspended mid-air—stars frozen between worlds.

And through that stillness, two apex predators collided—unstoppable forces of destruction carving through the calm.

The world stood witness.
The stars held their breath.

Light and darkness exploded outward, jolting the very air between them.

The force of Reinhard’s blade—a radiant crescendo of divine power—clashed against Pride’s seething black authority, tearing the dunes asunder with a thunderous roar. Shockwaves rippled through the sand, shattering the earth beneath their feet as colossal ravines split the desert wide open like broken glass, deeper and more jagged than the scars already carved into the dunes spanning the entire sandy region.

CLANG—

Reinhard dropped low, a flawless arc of steel slicing down toward Pride—but the strike missed by inches, the blade curving effortlessly around his opponent’s form to slam into the ground beside him, cleaving a furrow into the scorched sand.

Pride’s black blade surged forward as a shadow made sharp, the tip humming as it hovered inches from Reinhard’s eye. But Reinhard, moving on auto-pilot, snapped his neck sideways just in time. The deadly thrust sliced past, missing by the barest hair’s breadth.

One step. One seamless movement.

And yet the attack missed again?

No—it was just Pride who didn’t need to dodge.

Neither could land a hit. For different reasons for both fighters.

The space between them pulsed with deadly tension.

Then, like a sudden revelation, Reinhard understood.

His legs sprawled wide as his body flickered—too fast to track—a shadow beneath an overhead slash from Pride’s dark sword.

He blitzed around like a snake, speed beyond mortal perception, wrapping around to strike behind Pride with a crushing shin strike to his side.

“...So that’s how it is.”
Reinhard muttered, voice steady beneath the storm.

Pride coughed blood as the blow connected, spine impacted with brutal precision, and was hurled through the air.

He flew—hundreds of meters—twisting mid-flight like a broken javelin before crashing through a towering stone spire. The ancient column shattered and collapsed in a rain of rubble.

But Pride was not beaten.
Not so soon.

Threads of blackened darkness erupted from his body—tendrils writhing like living shadows, piercing the earth beneath. They coiled and tangled around the fallen spire mid-air, yanking it with inhuman strength and pulling it downward like a deadly whip.

Reinhard charged beneath the descending ruin, calm eyes narrowing as he prepared for the inevitable.

So he figured it out already... the weakness to my authority.

The spire shattered into countless shards before it could strike, raining down harmlessly as Reinhard closed the distance in two impossibly swift steps.

Pride’s eyes widened in shock—the gap between them closed instantaneously.

The Reid Sword swung—only a feint.
Reinhard knew better than to unleash a slash in Pride's line of sight now. Thus, with a flicker of movement, he slithered behind Pride with predatory speed.

But Pride was ready this time around.

He pivoted, meeting the Sword Saint face to face.

BOOOOM—!!

An earth-shaking explosion detonated, not like thunder—thunder was child's play in comparison. This was a celestial roar that cracked the very atmosphere, rippling like a shockwave for miles, warping the sands of the Augria Dunes into tidal waves of dust and shattered stone.

Darkness collided with steel, and the world convulsed under the pressure. The impact wasn't an explosion—it was more akin to a miniature supernova. Black tendrils of Pride's Authority lashed like living things, gnashing and writhing as Reinhard's blade cut through them, each stroke a hymn of divine power.

The clash lasted only a heartbeat—and then both fighters vanished from sight entirely.

SWISH—!
A blur. The ground split in their wake.
SWOOSH—!
Sand funneled into cyclones behind them.
STEP—!
Reality fractured under the sheer force of their footfalls.
SLASH—!
The black blade screeched through the air—missed by millimeters.
CRACK—!
A boulder the size of a house ruptured from the aftershock alone.
DUCK—!
Reinhard dipped low, his red hair trailing behind like a comet.
DODGE—!
Pride swayed, his eyes gleaming with malice—unharmed.
SLASH—!
The air hissed, sliced apart by divine steel.
SWOOSH—!
Darkness recoiled, regathering, rearing to strike.

It was a symphony of violence, a blur of motion so fast it defied mortal comprehension. There were no sparks—their weapons never truly connected. It was speed, precision, intent—each missed strike carried enough force to disintegrate lesser beings, hurling them across vast distances as if they were teleporting across a different part of the sandy region with each clash.

The dunes were obliterated, turned into sprawling trenches. Sandstorms howled like falling gods, the sky veiled in perpetual ash and smoke.

Up a jagged mountain they raced—their clash a storm, carving away at colossal slabs of stone with each failed strike. Peaks shattered beneath them, avalanches of rock tumbling in their wake.

Then—

They flickered atop the summit. Not climbed. Not leapt. They simply appeared—standing on fractured stone that stuck suspended like stars in the milky way, the desert howling below them, the mountain trembling under the pressure of their battle.

Pride’s blade thrummed with malevolence, black veins of power spiderwebbing up his arm. His eyes burned—a predator's glare mixed with the twisted glee of his Authority.

Reinhard stood still, but the mountain beneath his feet cracked and groaned under the quiet hum of his presence. His sword gleamed unnaturally bright, a thread of divinity so potent it distorted the air itself.

A moment passed.
Then they moved.

SWOOSH—

Reinhard vaulted over Pride’s head, hammering a brutal kick into his ribs from his flank. The impact sent Pride hurtling through the mountain’s peak, triggering a massive landslide that vanished into the horizon, swallowed by the momentum he was flung at.

This is—

Pride's instincts screamed—but there was no time to react.

From above, a savage kick struck his spine, forcing his body downward through rock and sand. They tore through hidden layers beneath the desert—walls cracked and crumbled—shattered by their descent into an underground ravine.

Pride crashed through another wall, landing heavily in a cavernous hollow, vomiting blood.

“Beyond expectation…”

His head snapped up just in time to gaze at Reinhard's fist, an unseen force yanked the blow aside as soon as his gaze fixed onto the strike.

He abused the opening, swiping a leg across to hook a shin against Reinhard's stomach.

Even then, the Sword Saint was hardly even effected, brows merely furrowing as he was blown a few feet backwards before shifting back to offense.

One arm swept across his torso, the other cupped Pride's eyes—blinding him with a cruel tactic, an experiment.

Before Pride could react, Reinhard’s fist crashed upward in a devastating uppercut.

The cave imploded, along with multiple ribs.

Stone exploded outward, fragments flying like glass shards catching moonlight. Pride’s cursed energy, reinforced beyond levels greater than anything before, shattered like fragile glass.

His body blasted skyward—rock and sand tearing away beneath him.

Darkness sprouted anew from the ground, encasing his limbs and yanking him back down to the surface where the moon watched from above.

Staggering upright, he glared at the steadily approaching Reinhard.

No words. No taunts.
Only cold, steely resolve.

They locked eyes.

Pride shifted, readying for the next exchange.

A better word currently would be survival.

Reinhard's form blurred, no wasted motion, no hesitation. His blade carved a silver crescent through the sky, the descending arc aimed to cleave Pride—and the very battlefield—in two.

But Pride pivoted, slipping the strike by a hair's breadth. The force alone was cataclysmic—the missed blade sundered the earth beneath them with a thunderous CRACK, a colossal fissure ripping outward, exposing molten glass glowing from the sand's sudden fusion.

THUD—!

Pride’s heel slammed down onto Reinhard’s wrist with all of his might. Bone and muscle flexed beneath the pressure, but the Sword Saint’s grip never faltered. His blade remained steady, unyielding as stone.

Pride's fist rocketed upward like a piston, but Reinhard dipped—perfect, effortless—shoulder driving forward with one swift step, slamming into Pride's torso. The impact didn’t just stagger him—it sent him skidding back like a ragdoll, carving furrows into the sand, fine glass shrapnel biting his legs as he tried to stabilize along the molten sand.

THUNK—THUNK—!

The ground trembled, sand shifting unnaturally. Reinhard's sharpened senses twitched. A trap.

From beneath, a swarm of pitch-black spikes erupted, jagged spears of Authority homing in on the Sword Saint from every conceivable angle beneath.

But Reinhard was already airborne. His body arced high, the dunes blurring below him. His eyes remained fixed—not on the sky, but on the inevitable assault reaching for him from below.

FWOOSH—

The black tendrils continued to branch forth, endlessly.

And with a gleam of celestial steel, Reinhard deleted them. It wasn't a cut. It was an erasure—the light... the—mana—shrouding the Dragon Sword incinerated Pride's darkness mid-air, as though it had never existed in the first place.

The shockwave shattered dunes into flying glass, molten shards crystallizing and splintering under their own chaotic birth. A brutal, almost foreign beauty, sand turned to razor-sharp rain under the pale moonlight.

Pride grimaced, wrist flicking. Another tendril—twice as large, feral and desperate—surged upward to skewer Reinhard mid-fall.

But Reinhard’s blade was already curving downward. His instincts were transcendent, far beyond what eyes alone could offer.

The tendril never even breached the surface—the strike split the ground first, a—SPLIT—so deep it less considerable as a crack, but instead a yawning ravine, a new scar on the desert stretching hundreds of meters.

Pride narrowly leapt aside as terrain was eviscerated, eyes wide. And then, Reinhard landed.

It was effortless. Divine.

The shards of molten glass fell around him like rain, refracting moonlight, wrapping his figure in an ethereal halo. His presence alone weighed on the desert greater than any amount of the witch's miasma could to him—the inescapable, suffocating pressure of inevitability in the form of a man.

Pride's breath stuttered, that gnawing feeling building beneath his skin—the dread, the bitter creeping realization.

Untouched. Unharmed. The Sword Saint stood tall.

But him? A half-broken wreck of bruises and cuts. His arms trembled beneath the pressure of parrying each blow.

Reinhard advanced—just a single step—and the distance vanished. Their blades collided, Authority clashing with Divinity. A silent quake rippled through the dunes.

Pride’s knees nearly buckled.

"So, huh…" His words hissed through gritted teeth, bitterness lacing every syllable.
"Untouchable. Must be nice… being a fucking CHEAT."

Reinhard’s expression barely shifted, save for a faint, sorrowful crease of his brow.
"My apologies.." he replied, voice calm as stone. "But I’d have to disagree."

His hand let go of the blade. Pride reacted, but it was too late—both of Reinhard's arms drove forward in perfect synchronization, impossible to track, impossible to counter for any mortal man.

Fingers clamped around Pride's chest, crushing, hurling him backward with godlike force. Sand detonated beneath them as Pride's body was launched, tumbling through the air like a discarded doll.

But before Reinhard's sword could even touch the ground, he caught it in mid-flight—and pursued.

Pride twisted mid-air, black tendrils uncoiling like serpents, anchoring into the earth, bending the desert itself into a trampoline of writhing darkness.

He rebounded, slingshotting himself forward, weapon raised overhead, borrowing the insane momentum Reinhard himself had gifted him.

Even the Sword Saint faltered for a breath—surprised by the sudden reversal.
"-!!"

Pride's blade screamed downward, a wide, desperate arc of pure malice, crashing into Reinhard’s guard with the fury of a collapsing mountain.

The ground beneath Reinhard’s heels cratered, sand spraying in every direction, molten glass crackling under his feet.

But Reinhard slid back maybe a dozen meters—nothing more. And Pride… Pride landed, shoulders heaving, purple eyes wide with annoyance, confusion.

Nothing.

Even that—even that—did nothing.

His fist clenched around the hilt of his ebony blade until his knuckles paled, his muscles trembling not from fatigue—but from what churned inside his gut.

Dread.
Realization.
The uncomfortable, maddening truth..

Reinhard wasn’t a man.
He wasn’t a warrior to be outmaneuvered, overwhelmed, or broken.
He was inevitability incarnate.
A force.
The end of all defiance.

And if he lacked a heart?
This fight… this world… would’ve ended long ago.

"What can I even do…?"
"What can anyone do against this…?"

Pride frowned, his voice bitter. The voice in his head—Subaru—echoed mockingly from the confines of his mind.

It’s not a fun feeling, is it…?

His teeth ground together.

“Shut… your… mouth.”

Reinhard’s gaze remained firm, there was no pity—infact it were closer to respect—but his stance shifted again, blade poised, unwavering.

The pinnacle of power approached once more.

The air cracked—a sound like the sky itself tearing—as Reinhard lunged in an instant.

No sound warned of his approach. No shift in sand, no gust of wind. Only impact.

Pride barely raised his blade as Reinhard’s strike collided against it's black edge, the sheer weight behind it turning the world into a blur of sand, glass, and writhing pain.

CLANG—!!

Pride’s arms screamed, bones shuddering beneath the impossible force. He was hurtled backward once more, body cartwheeling uncontrollably across the dunes, flinging endless sand skyward as he speared a ravine through the ground.

But even spinning through the air, his instincts took hold.

Darkness coiled from his limbs, spiraling tendrils of black snatching at the ground, anchoring him mid-flight. His body slammed to a halt, skidding along the desert, scorching molten trails into the sand as his Authority strained to control the momentum Reinhard had gifted him.

No time.

Reinhard was already upon him.

BOOM—!

The Sword Saint's foot shattered the space where Pride had landed, obliterating sand into glass and glass into vapor. The aftershock alone flung Pride away again like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

SLASH—!

His black blade lashed out mid-air, a jagged arc of shadows splitting the dunes below, aiming to carve Reinhard's legs from beneath him.

But Reinhard pivoted, impossibly fast, blade flashing downward in a radiant curve. The Authority strike vanished—deleted, as though it had never existed in the first place.

A web of molten fissures crisscrossed the desert, glowing crimson, their heat distorting the air and deserts surface.

Pride landed in a crouch, heart hammering in his chest. His arms shook. His legs ached. Every breath burned like inhaling fire.

But his eyes stayed locked on the Sword Saint.

Reinhard approached, blade steady, expression unreadable save for the faintest crease of determination.

No wasted steps. No fear. No doubt.

Pride's teeth clenched.

This isn’t a man.
I refuse to believe it...

That didn't mean he would kneel.. even if he stood before a god. He was Pride. He was unbreakable...

Pride's Authority surged yet again—the ground buckled, black spikes and tendrils erupting in all directions, coiling, weaving—a spiraling barrier of pure malice.

A fortress of darkness.

He couldn't match Reinhard. But maybe… he could bury him.

The spikes shot downward like a tsunami, upward, inward, encasing Reinhard in a labyrinth of shadows that devoured the moonlight itself.

And for a fleeting heartbeat…

Silence.

Then—

FWOOOOOOM—!!

Light detonated from within the labyrinth. Seeping through the non-existent cracks and lighting ablaze.

A sphere of celestial brilliance erupted outward, evaporating the Authority constructs like smoke caught in a furnace before funneling toward the sky as a pillar of white mana. The dunes liquefied, molten glass exploding across the battlefield in shimmering shards.

Reinhard walked forward, untouched, his blade glowing faintly with residual radiance.

Pride's breath hitched.

Reinhard closed the distance—one step—two—gone.

WHAM—!!

Pride's vision spun as Reinhard's elbow slammed into his jaw, launching him skyward. The stars twisted overhead as he tumbled through the air, blood filling his mouth.

But even dazed, he retaliated.

Tendrils of darkness lashed out, snaring the fractured shards of molten glass mid-air, hurling them like missiles toward the Sword Saint.

Reinhard parried them without looking or even attacking, the fragments vaporized before they even came close.

Pride descended from the sky, blade drawn back, twisting, pouring every ounce of power and desperation into the strike.

One clean hit...
Just one...

His body screamed downward, a comet of black hatred aimed straight for Reinhard’s heart.

Reinhard's eyes never left him.

And at the last possible instant—

He stepped past Pride’s attack, moving inside the arc, impossibly close, blade reversed in his hand.

Pride’s strike hit only empty air.

A palm crashed into his sternum. The world tilted until the sky-filled sky was in view.

BOOM—!!

Pride's body cratered into the desert floor with seismic force, sand, glass, and darkness billowing outward like a tidal wave.

He coughed, agony radiating from every nerve. His vision doubled. His limbs shook.

Standing above him, framed in the moon's dying light—

Reinhard.

Unharmed.

Unstoppable.

Pride's grip faltered on his blade.

His mind—the very essence of Pride—screamed in defiance, in rage.

But beneath the noise…
That cold, creeping realization.

Nothing he did mattered..
This was a fixed point..
The wall that wouldn't fall..
The wall that couldn't fall..

Reinhard Van Astrea. The Sword Saint.

Unbreakable.
Blessed.

Unfair.

Notes:

No way, two chapters in THREE HOURS?
I might be crazy, might make it three in a day, who knows...

Chapter 27: The Infallible Sword Saint. (2)

Reinhard's gaze wasn’t the quiet sorrow he'd shown before.
It wasn’t the righteous resolve of the Sword Saint.

It was cold. Unfiltered. Fury, sharp as a blade’s edge.

His pupils narrowed, eyes fixed on Pride's broken, bloodied frame kneeling in the sand—a heap barely standing under its own defiance.

You dare… look at ME… that way…?!

Pride’s lips curled into a sneer, defiance burning through the agony. His legs buckled, but his Pride would not let him kneel.

"I… I am PRIDE…!!" His voice cracked from the rawness, yet the force behind it was undeniable.
"I am NOT… someone… you can look down upon… so easily…!!"

The sand trembled beneath him as his Authority surged, darkness rippling like oil across the dunes. His blade swung upward, a wild, unrelenting strike—the last gasp of spiteful determination.

But Reinhard barely moved. His gloved palm shot forward, snatching Pride’s wrist mid-air—stopping the blow like it was nothing but a breeze.

No exertion. No hesitation.
Just… absurd precision.

But then—something shifted.

A spark. A pulse of wrongness.

Reinhard’s eyes widened—subtly, but for a man like him, that was equivalent to outright shock.

His thoughts raced—a hurricane of logic and calculation behind those godlike eyes.
There must be a way.

To sever the parasite… to tear the corruption free… to save him…

His soul reached for Od Lagna, the guiding will of the world—the voice that had always answered, always protected.

But—

Nothing.

Silence. Emptiness.

A violent shudder rippled through him—the sacred bond severed.

The countless Divine Protections—the invincibility, the impossible reflexes, the untouchable fate—flickered like dying stars… and vanished.

“—!!?”
His hand recoiled through sheer instinct, but for the first time ever, was not fast enough.

From beneath Pride’s sleeve, like coiled serpents of corruption, jagged, blackened spikes erupted along his arm—twisting up from his fingertips, slicing through cloth and flesh alike, embedding deep into Reinhard's skin like a reverse pin-cushion.

THUNK.
SHLK.
SWISH—!!

Reinhard leapt backward, his body a blur of practiced motion, but the damage was already done. His once-pristine white sleeve was shredded to ribbons—black thorns pierced through his forearm, shoulder to wrist, their sickly sheen glistening under the moonlight.

And beneath it—pain.
Real. Physical.
The kind of pain he hadn’t truly felt in… well ever.

His sword hand remained steady, but his left arm… hung useless, streaked with blood and corruption.

He landed with precision, the Dragon Sword Reid poised in his remaining good hand. His brows furrowed—not with fear, but with the sobering acknowledgement of risk.

A foreign feeling… but not an unwelcome one.

"So…" Reinhard’s voice broke the tense silence, measured, cold, clinical.
"This… is why you chose to face me here."

Pride's grin split wider, exhaustion hidden behind a mask of maddened triumph. The black spikes curled protectively around his arm, thrumming with malevolence, the taint of this place empowering him.

"Keh… heh… took longer than I wanted…" Pride exhaled through bared teeth, Authority surging like wildfire through his veins.
"But I figured it out… you’re not untouchable out here… in her territory."

His gaze tilted skyward—to the oppressive, moonlit sky.

The Augria Sand Dunes.
Where mana twisted unnaturally.
Where fate buckled.
Where even Od Lagna was silenced.

Pride tilted his head, blood trickling from his mouth as he leveled his blade at the Sword Saint.

"We’ll see… how long you last… without those little cheats of yours."

For the first time, Reinhard didn't respond with restraint. He didn’t offer calm compassion. Only a quiet, surprisingly calm nod.

"I suppose… we shall."

And then—
They moved.

The moment hung on a knife’s edge.

And then the blade plunged.

Pride lunged, the dunes erupting beneath his feet in a cloud of fractured glass and sand, black tendrils whipping out behind him like the cloak of a fallen god. His blade—a jagged, twisted thing of shadow and pride—carved a line through the air, the sheer speed they travelled at boiling the ground.

Reinhard met him head-on.
No Divine Protections.
No fate-bending power.
Just raw, honed, human skill—and the impossible weight of the Dragon Sword Reid in his hand.

CLANG—!!

The blades collided, the shockwave splitting the dunes apart in a mile-wide ripple, sand and molten glass raining down like shattered stars.

But this time—
Reinhard's stance buckled.
The sheer force behind Pride’s strike, fueled by the miasma-soaked cursed energy infused strike empowered by the Sand Dunes, bit into him. His good arm trembled—not out of weakness, but for the first time, his body was no longer operating with impossible, god-gifted efficiency.

Pride felt it.
The impact. The resistance.
The Sword Saint was catchable now.

And so—
He pressed the advantage.

Darkness erupted beneath them both, jagged spires shooting upward like a corrupted forest, forcing Reinhard to step back, pivoting around each deadly spike with perfect, practiced grace—but not perfect enough to avoid them all.

A razor-sharp tendril caught his side ever so slightly—

SHLK—!!

Blood. Real, crimson, human blood.
It painted the sand.

Pride's eyes went wide, manic glee breaking across his battered, bloodied face.

But there was no time to gloat.

Reinhard stepped in, closing the gap instantly, his remaining good arm swinging the Dragon Sword's flat side in a tight, merciless arc. Pride barely ducked—the blade missed his head by inches, severing a sand spire clean in half behind him, molten glass and stone bursting from the impact.

But Pride wasn’t done.

His knee shot upward, colliding with Reinhard's ribs—a grunt escaped the Sword Saint's lips, the faintest sound of breath forced from him.

He's feeling it.

Pride's Authority erupted, darkness exploding from beneath them in a storm of shadowy tendrils, all aiming to impale, ensnare, devour.

But Reinhard—

Even without the protections, he was still the Sword Saint.

The Dragon Sword cleaved through the darkness, cutting a path of gleaming, searing light, his footwork impossibly sharp—each step flowing into the next like water over polished stone.

CLANG—!!
SWISH—!!
THUNK—!!

A fist collided with Pride’s gut, folding him over, air forced from his lungs, bones cracking—but he didn't stop. Even as blood sprayed from his mouth, even as the edges of his vision blurred, his Authority lashed out—

The night sky ripped apart.

Dozens—no, hundreds of shadowy tendrils lashed out like a web spun by some abyssal god, ensnaring Pride's limbs mid-air. His arms, legs—coiled, dragged skyward by the churning storm of black Authority that bent reality itself.

Dark blade gripped tight, eyes alight with feverish, exhausted triumph as he glared down at the Saint.

A chance.

For the first time, a real, fragile, terrifying chance.

Reinhard launched himself upward—
No blessings.
No divine cheat codes.
Just muscle, momentum, and mastery. The Reid Sword carved a burning white arc to his hip, the gleam of steel eclipsed only by the raw, condensed might in his swing.

Above him, the dark blade pulsed.
Black Authority fused with roiling cursed energy, glowing sickly purple, coiling around the weapon like a second sword, a phantom edge of pure annihilation.

The blades met—
And the sky detonated. Like the sun gone supernova.

BOOOOOM—!!

A colossal, blinding explosion ruptured the heavens, the shockwave blasting dunes flat, vaporizing clouds, splitting sand into molten glass across miles of wasteland.

Both fighters were flung like comets in opposite directions—
Pride spiraling backward, the melted remains of his blade bubbling away in his grip from the sheer heat—only to reform, black liquid reconstituting into solid darkness like ink freezing mid-air.

But even before he steadied, before his heartbeat finished its next panicked thrum—

Reinhard however, he fell, more mortal than ever, no divine protections to cradle him, just raw, terrifying combat skill. His white cloak snapped behind him, body twisting as he angled his fall toward his opponent overhead like a missile of divine steel.

Pride reacted instantly, feet pressing against summoned tendrils of darkness like makeshift platforms. Authority surged, and he launched downward to meet the Sword Saint in the sky.

CRAAAAACK—!!

Their blades collided—
Steel screamed.
Darkness shattered.
Crescent-shaped gales of wind and corrupted miasma rippled outward, splitting the dunes with monstrous, jagged fissures, their edges glowing with molten light.

Pride roared, shoving every ounce of power into the clash, his muscles screaming with the effort to overpower the Sword Saint, to drive him down to earth—
But Reinhard twisted, deflecting the momentum like water off stone, sheer skill, power.

A flash—
A gleam—
Another eruption of steel and Authority that eviscerated the clouds, annihilating any dust, smoke, or debris that dared to linger.

CLANK—!!
CRACK—!!
FWOOSH—!!
THUD—!!

They moved like blurs—inhuman, blinding, terrifying.
Blades clashed with such ferocity the sand turned to rain, molten glass suspended in the sky as hundreds of miniature explosions of pressure cracked the desert apart.

Darkness lashed, spikes of blackened Authority stabbing toward Reinhard—
Gone in a blur. Severed instantly.
The Reid Sword swung, carving crescents of sheer wind pressure through the sky, each slash carrying the weight of a man's impossible skill and relentless determination.

Blood was drawn—
A thin gash down Reinhard's thigh.
A thin cut across Pride's side.
More. Deeper. Faster.
Neither escaped unscathed.

STEP—!!

Reinhard surged in low, slipping beneath an overhead swipe of the dark blade, twisting Reid to its flat side—
And smashed it into Pride’s gut like a battering ram.

WHUD—!!

Pride's breath left him in a broken wheeze. His ribs buckled further, organs lurching from within.
The impact hurled him like a ragdoll, his body sailing through the night sky, miles high before he righted himself, limbs trembling, blood leaking from his lips.

But Reinhard was already upon him—
A crimson and white comet tearing through the clouds, shockwaves of black, gold, and searing white trailing his flight path.

Pride snarled, coiling his Authority—
A colossal, sweeping slash of darkness exploded from his body, cutting across the sky like a blackened crescent moon, wide enough to devour the moon's light overhead.

SPLIT—!!

The Reid Sword severed it in a single stroke.
Clean. Effortless.
The remnants turned against him, shattered darkness becoming makeshift platforms beneath Reinhard’s boots.

And from those platforms—
The Sword Saint launched.

In an instant, the gap closed.
Pride barely had time to raise his defense when—

CRACK—!!

The pommel of Reid slammed into his ribs, another rattling impact that forced bile, blood, and oxygen from his lungs in a single, miserable expulsion.

His body crumpled backward, tumbling, shuddering, spinning end over end as he fell.

Still…
Despite the agony, the broken ribs, the sickening twist of his insides…

Pride was grinning madly.

Because Reinhard was actually breathing, like a human...
Like a mortal.
Wounds bled freely down the Sword Saint’s leg and side. His steps, while composed, had weight behind them now.

The dunes cracked with each impact. The ground cried with each slash. Molten glass fissures still bled steam into the air, refracting the faint moonlight in fractured beams that scattered across the battlefield.

And Reinhard moved.

No Divine Protections.
No auto-dodge.
No cheat code salvation.

But it didn't matter.
He was still Reinhard.

Pride barely tracked him—
A flicker of red and white across the molten sands.

Too fast. Even without his blessings.

Especially without them, because now Reinhard fought like a genuine beast—ruthless, direct, without hesitation.

THUD—!

A footstep behind him—impossible.
Pride spun, blade already rising—

CLANG—!!

Reinhard’s strike met his, the Reid Sword snapping against the blackened blade, sparks exploding outward in a shower of molten fire and sparks.

But Reinhard wasn’t finished.

CRACK—!!

A fist to the ribs.
Pride felt his bones flex, creak, nearly snap under the raw force. His feet left the ground, body recoiling.

But he reacted—Authority pulsing like a second skin, launching himself backward mid-air, spikes of darkness erupting from the molten sands, jagged and sprawling like barbed thorns.

Reinhard advanced through them—Blade flickering like lightning.
Each spike severed. Each tendril carved apart.
His footfalls were merciless, leaving craters in the soft glass and stony surface.

The dunes hissed—black fog rising from below, the residual cursed miasma of the Watchtower clinging to air constantly. Pride inhaled, the Authority inside him pulsing to life once more.

The ground beneath Reinhard buckled.
Darkness erupted like a geyser—hundreds of spear-like tendrils shooting upward at impossible angles.

THWIP—THWIP—THWIP—!!

Reinhard leapt, spun, ducked—each movement perfect, controlled chaos. The Reid Sword moved faster than Pride's eyes could track, severing dozens of tendrils before they reached him—

But not all.

A single tendril wrapped around Reinhard’s ankle mid-air—
And yanked.

CRACK—!!
The Sword Saint's body hit the molten glass below with terrifying force, sending a ripple of fractures across the hardened desert floor.
"Urk-!"

Pride pounced—closing the gap in a heartbeat, dark blade poised to drive through Reinhard's heart— But a hand lashed out, too fast to counter.

Reinhard caught the incoming blade barehanded—
And twisted, a gash formulating across his palm, splitting open the glove and revealing the red flesh beneath.

Darkness cracked, shattered like brittle stone under the monstrous grip strength of the Sword Saint. Pride's eyes widened—his wrist nearly broke under the force. Then— A headbutt. Skull met skull, and it felt like colliding with a battering ram.

Pride stumbled, vision rattling—
Reinhard surged to his feet, blade whirling in an upward arc that split the air.

SLASH—!!

Pride blocked, barely, but the raw power behind it sent him skidding backward across the fractured dunes, boots scraping molten glass into molten shards.

His lungs burned.
His arms shook.
But—he was still standing.

Opposite him, Reinhard adjusted his grip on the Reid Sword.
His left arm hung limp from earlier damage, but his eyes?
His eyes were still sharp, calculating, relentless.

Even stripped of blessings…
Even stripped of the impossible…
This was still the man known as the Sword Saint.
The apex of swordsmanship, the living culmination of generations of Astrea bloodline mastery.

And Pride?
Pride was mortal, as much as he'd wish to deny it.
But so was Reinhard…
And that was his only hope.

Pride’s lips peeled back into a crooked, blood-slicked smirk, sharp as glass.
“Slower without your little blessings…”
A brief pause. His eyes glinted with something between mockery and resignation.
“But you’re still a monster.”

A sandstorm howled around them like nature itself recoiling, choking the sky with haze and gold grit. Even now, the battlefield itself was turning against them.

Reinhard’s expression didn’t waver. Only the faintest breath left his lungs as he stepped forward, eyes narrowed beneath the crimson fringe of his hair.
“It takes a monster… to kill a monster.”

Pride’s brow twitched. His grin soured into a snarl.
“Tch… Touché, Red.”

But beneath the bravado, his mind raced. The storm thickened, obscuring everything beyond a few paces. Every breath tasted like sand and blood. Time wasn’t on his side. His limbs ached. The longer this dragged on, the better his chances—if only he could outlast him. But Reinhard… Reinhard already knew that, and would expect that.

As if to answer the thought, the Sword Saint’s gaze sharpened through the curtain of sand. The Reid sword gleamed faintly beneath the storm’s haze, impossibly steady.
His voice, quiet—but unshakable.
“I will free my friend. Natsuki Subaru… no matter what it takes.”

Pride scoffed—a bitter, near-hysterical bark of laughter clawing from his throat.
“You still—you actually—think you can say that?”
“Of course you don’t understand.. what I'm talking about. No one else does. Because no one else can.”

He spat to the side, blood and sand staining the ground.
“But wow… you’re really that stupidly noble, huh?”

Reinhard’s smile flickered, faint but genuine.
“I suppose I am. Though someone once told me to apologize less… I think I’ll try to remember that.”

Pride’s eye twitched.
“…Gojo.”
His grip tightened.
“Would the man in charge of you really be okay with you killing his dear student, Red?”

Reinhard shook his head.
“You are not Subaru. I don’t need any number of Divine Protection's to see that.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I will not kill my friend. But the one who dares to wear his face… that, I will not forgive.”

Their eyes locked—no more words.

Only inevitability.

The storm raged, the desert vanishing beneath a wall of gold and ash. Pride shrouded himself in darkness, a living silhouette against the screaming void, the shadows shielding his eyes from the biting sand.

And then they vanished.

CRACK—!

Their swords met, the ground beneath them fracturing under the impossible pressure. Their muscles strained—two titans locked in a dead heat.

The cracks spiderwebbed out, widening beneath their feet from the pressure.

Reinhard’s blade swept in a wide arc—Pride ducked beneath, dissolving into the sandstorm. He moved by instinct, his vision reduced to mere flashes, his Authority flickering under strain.

Even now…
Even with only instinct left to him…
I can barely touch him.

Behind—!

Reinhard twisted sharply, sparks erupting as Reid collided with Pride’s black blade. Pride retreated into the haze, vanishing, reappearing—again, again, again—always targeting Reinhard’s flank before seeping back into the sandstorm.

But Reinhard’s blade was already there, waiting.

This world has favorites. Disgusting.

Another feint—another instant parry.

SWIPE—!

His blade cut clean through—A pillar of darkness?
His instincts screamed—he snapped backward, the edge of Pride’s blade grazing his cheek, a sharp sting drawing blood.

Reinhard pivoted— A swift spin, a low kick aiming for Pride’s ankle—
Pride leapt above, tendrils lashing downward to strike, only to be instantly severed by an underarm slash.

SWISH—!

Reinhard pressed forward—his next swing sliced the storm itself, a crescent shockwave tearing the darkness apart. Pride evaded by a breath, blood trailing from his side as he crashed into the sand.

SWIPE—!

Pride retaliated—a barrage of abyssal spikes surged from the ground. Reinhard’s grip fell loose on the legendary blade before it was skyward.

A shallow cut scored Reinhard’s side—but he didn’t falter.

His arm reaches out and smashed into Pride’s forearm, nearly caving it in to bring a halt to a second slash.

“..I believe you misunderstand.”

CRACK—!

A fist thundered into Pride’s cheek, blood and spit spraying as he staggered back.

“..I may be the Sword Saint.”

A low kick—
Pride hastily conjured a shield of abyssal matter, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface as Reinhard withdrew and drove his foot down with a crushing axe kick.

Pride blocked again—but his blade literally exploded beneath the force.

The second kick caught him clean—

THUD—!

He rocketed backward, skidding through the storm and back into the darkness.

Reinhard didn’t pursue, even though the opportunity was there.

“But I don’t need my sword to deal with you.”

Pride lashed out—a spike grazed Reinhard’s neck from behind, drawing a thin line of blood before he tilted. Reinhard didn’t even turn—he simply raised his hand, catching the falling Reid Sword in his palm, as if it had always been there in the first place.

His eyes narrowed.

“But I will gladly remind you why I am referred to as such.”

The Reid Sword responded to his words with power.

White light—no, not light—something beyond human understanding erupted from the blade. It wasn’t a glow. It wasn’t an aura. It was raw, world-breaking force, devouring the mana from the very air, drinking the life from the atmosphere itself.

The ground shuddered beneath Reinhard's feet. The sky twisted above, clouds contorting as the heavens themselves recoiled from the pressure of his existence.

The world wept, fissures spiderwebbing across the battlefield as the impossible weight of his presence bared down on reality.

It was the strength to erase nations.
To end kingdoms.
To unmake the world—should he choose.

And he wielded it as effortlessly as a man wields his own shadow.

Pride’s eyes went wide.
Wide with dread.
Wide with the brutal, hopeless clarity that settled over him like a guillotine’s shadow.

No—

It had all been a lie.
The opportunities and flow of the fight.
The glimpses of weakness.
All of it—bait.

Reinhard had let him hope. Had let him believe.
And now—
With a single, final motion—
That hope was reduced to ash.

This world isn’t fair.
It never has been.
You don’t fight Reinhard van Astrea with victory in mind.
You survive—if you’re lucky. But you do not win.
No one wins...

The light consumed the battlefield.

But it wasn’t light.

It was annihilation.

The storm?
Gone.
The sand?
Gone.
The air?
Torn apart.
Mana itself?
Devoured.

Even the malignant, suffocating Witch’s Miasma that choked the air—the cursed presence that defied reason and life alike—obliterated for as far as his attack had expanded.

A colossal pillar of radiant destruction, hundreds of meters wide, swallowed the battlefield whole. The world beneath Reinhard’s feet vanished into a crater of smoking, molten ruin—deeper than mountains are tall.

The clouds above?
Deleted.

The stars?
Flickering beyond sight, blotted by the sheer, impossible energy unleashed in that instant.

Silence followed.

Not the quiet of peace—
The quiet of absence.
Of nothing.
Where even sound had been cowed into submission.

Only one figure remained untouched at the heart of that devastation.

Reinhard van Astrea.
Sword Saint.
The man who could destroy the world—not with armies—
But with a blade, and the will to swing it.

Victory was his.

But really—
What other outcome had ever existed?

---

Pride's lungs burned. His legs buckled. Blood seeped from countless wounds across his body as he stared at the deletion of the world infront of him. His blade—a jagged mess of authority—quivered in his trembling hand.

He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
No—he could. That was the problem.

“Impossible…”

The word slipped past cracked, bloodied lips.
It tasted wrong. Bitter. Like poison.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He was Pride. The embodiment of supremacy, of untouchable arrogance made real.
A God above insects. A tyrant among kings.

And yet—
Look at him now.

Skidding backward like prey.
Bleeding. Panting. Falling apart.

His entire existence, his very purpose, had been to prove his superiority. To sneer down at those lesser than him—because they were all lesser.
But Reinhard…

That man didn’t just look down on him—
He barely acknowledged him at all.

Like Pride was… insignificant.

The sheer, absurdity of it made his fists clench, nails digging into flesh, black tendrils twitching uncontrollably around him. His breath came fast, sharp, uneven.

“I… I’m… better… I’m supposed to be… I’m supposed to…!”

His mind raced in a spiral of fury, confusion, and shattering disbelief.
Every instinct screamed to run. To survive.
But his nature—the black, festering essence of Pride itself—refused to let him.

Even as reality crumbled under Reinhard’s strength.
Even as he stared into the abyss of total erasure.
Pride couldn’t accept it.

But…
But the cracks were there.
Widening. Splintering.
Gnawing at the foundation of his arrogance.

“It’s not fair…”
The thought clawed through his skull like rusted iron.
“This world isn’t fair… you… you're a monster… it isn’t fair…”

The Sword Saint who defied logic.

A man stripped of his divine protections, yet still… invincible.
A man who could end worlds—who could obliterate him, without even drawing on his full strength.

And what was Pride, against that?

A parasite.
A counterfeit.
A shadow daring to stand against the sun.

He staggered, vision swimming, bile rising in his throat.

“I…”

I’m Pride.
I’m power.
I’m superiority—personified.

But his own voice sounded frail.
His legs shook.
The familiar taste of invincibility…
Gone.

And in its place?

Doubt.

An emotion foreign. Terrifying. Poisonous.

For the first time—Pride realized.
It wasn’t that Reinhard didn’t respect him.
It was worse.

Reinhard didn’t need to.

Because to him—Pride wasn’t even worth the acknowledgment, despite all the power, despite the fact he gave the Sword Saint a fight unlike any other...
He was merely a monster with the face of his friend, irredeemable.

And that truth?
That unbearable, suffocating truth?
It hurt more than any wound Reinhard had given him.

And yet… beneath the humiliation, the cracks…
The hatred bloomed.
Ugly. Rabid.
Uncontrollable.

“I’ll… kill you…”

The words were hollow.
But the spite? The fury?
That was real.

For Pride would rather burn—
Would rather destroy himself—
Than accept that anyone stood above him.

Even if the world itself disagreed.

Pride’s breath turned ragged. His chest heaved like a beast on the verge of snapping, bloodshot eyes wide with manic obsession.

He surged to his feet as fast as he could. The ebony blade raised, trembling not from fear—but from the sheer, rabid demand to keep fighting, to win.

Even now.

Even after everything.

Even against Reinhard.

But Reinhard… was already untouchable again.
His Divine Protections had returned.

The Miasma was gone—obliterated for hundreds of meters.

The world, once again, followed the whims of Reinhard.

So he didn’t need to move.
He didn’t even look.

He caught Pride’s wrist. Effortlessly. As if plucking a falling leaf from the air.

The Reid Sword? Already sheathed.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Because Reinhard was Reinhard.
And the world had no choice but to obey.

Od Lagna listened because it had a favourite.
His wish became the law of the world.

His free hand pressed gently against Pride’s stomach.
A soft, almost delicate gesture.

And with a single thought—
The very soul split.

Pride’s body stiffened—then crumpled.
Subaru’s frame, unconscious, dropped to the ground.

Pride—reduced to a small, twisting wisp of darkness. A fractured spirit, no more substantial than a floating stain in the air.

Reinhard exhaled, a quiet relief crossing his lips.
His eyes softened as he looked at Subaru unconscious by his feet.

He’d done it.
He’d saved his friend.

Victory.

Just as Reinhard turned to erase Pride completely—

“Reinhard Van Astrea is no longer here after defeating Pride.
—He is instead patrolling the streets of the Royal Capital..”

The words crashed into reality like a command.
A truth that should not exist.

His eyes widened. His breath caught.

What—?

His head snapped toward the voice—but it was too late.

He vanished.
Not killed.
Not attacked.

Simply… gone from the battlefield.

His existence displaced.

The sandstorm howled quietly in the distance as a young girl stepped from the shadows.

Porcelain skin.
White hair.
A white dress, utterly pristine despite the chaos around her.

But those who knew—truly knew—would see her not as a child.
But as something far, far worse.

And she wasn’t alone.

A slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoed nearby. From the lingering shadows emerged a tall man in black, his robe flowing like ink, trimmed with thin lines of gold.

Long, slicked-back hair.
A calm, cruel smile.
And stitches across his forehead.

“As impressive as always, Miss Pandora.”
His voice was smooth, playful—but his presence weighed like iron.

Pandora’s smile remained unchanged, serene as always, as she turned her gaze toward the suspended black wisp—the fractured soul that was Pride.

The man's fingers stretched outward, his palm slowly closing around the floating remnant.

A moment passed.

Then, casually, as if plucking a piece of candy from a jar—
He pulled Pride’s spirit toward him.
Dragged it into his hand.

He licked his lips.

And swallowed it whole.

Pandora’s smile widened as she watched.

“But of course, Kenjaku...”

Notes:

3 chapters in less than a day, liiiiiiightwork...

Chapter 28: White.

Silence.

Emptiness.

And then—

Subaru's eyes snapped open.

A breath tore from his throat—dry, desperate, like a man drowning on land. His chest rose and fell in staggered motions, as if breathing itself was a labor that required willpower he barely had.

The sky above had changed.

No longer the calm, distant moon.

Now, it was the sun—harsh, blinding, merciless—sitting high and heavy above the horizon. It glared down like a god without empathy, burning the world beneath it to ash.

The heat pressed in immediately. It wrapped around Subaru’s body, clinging to his skin, choking his breath with dry, shimmering air. Each inhale scratched down his throat like sandpaper.

And he felt it.

The dehydration. The pulsing ache in his joints. The throbbing pain in his temples, behind his eyes. The raw sting of his cracked lips and sun-seared skin.

He was alive.

Which could only mean one thing.

Subaru let his head drop back into the scorching sand.

His eyes stared upward, empty and unblinking, as a soft exhale left his lungs.

“…We lost to him again…”

His voice came out hoarse. Brittle. Already beginning to fade into the wind.

He waited.

Waited for the voice.

For the familiar presence at the back of his mind—the mocking sneer, the cruel commentary, the smug superiority.

There was always something. Always.

But now… there was nothing.

No snide remark.

No quiet chuckle.

Not even a flicker of presence.

Subaru blinked slowly. A faint crease formed between his brows.

That was wrong.

That was very wrong.

“…Pride…?” he said, this time quieter.

Still, no answer.

And that was when he felt the first prickle of unease—a coldness that ran beneath the burning heat, crawling slowly up his spine.

He was still alive.

Still in the desert.

Still in this moment.

He hadn’t looped. He hadn’t died.

The Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, always killed him. It wasn’t a possibility. It wasn’t a coin flip. It was an absolute truth that happened every other time outside of the loops where he'd committed suicide. And yet…

This time?

Nothing.

No death. No restart.

Just… silence, total silence.

The bitterness hit first.

A dry taste on the back of his tongue, like ash and bile and sand. The same taste as failure.

And then the deeper feeling crept in—the gnawing, hollow ache beneath his ribs. Emptiness. Vast. Consuming.

He clenched his jaw.

“…Should I try again…?”

He didn’t even know who he was asking.

The wind certainly didn’t answer.

He forced himself to sit up, limbs stiff and unwilling. His body protested, but he didn’t care. He was used to pain.

He was used to everything hurting.

But this—this was different.

He had failed before. Dozens of times. Died. Been humiliated. Torn apart. Crushed.

But he always had Pride. That bond. That voice. That power. Even in death, it lingered. It endured.

And now it was just… sulking?

He ran his tongue over his cracked lips. Already dry. Already aching.

Around him, the land bore scars of the battle. Wounds on the world itself.

Man-made canyons carved into the dunes like claw marks. Cratered earth. Melted and genuine glass. Some stretches of sand had transformed entirely—scorched into black, hardened obsidian. Others shimmered faintly, as if still burning beneath the surface.

From space, this battlefield would look like devastation.

He took a step.

Pain lanced up and through his entire body immediately.

“G-Gh—! F-Fuck…”

He stumbled. Nearly fell.

But his gaze drifted upward again.

Toward the sky.

“...Hey. Hey, Pride! Now’s not the time to sulk, dammit—say something!”

Still no answer.

“…Pride?”

A pause.

“…Pride?!”

This time, he shouted it.

The word rang out across the desert, but there was no echo. No response.

Just that awful, crushing silence.

He reached out instinctively, hand trembling. A familiar motion.

He willed the black blade to appear. It should have been like breathing. Like blinking.

He’d done it so many times before.

But now—

Nothing.

His heart skipped.

His throat tightened.

No, no, no—

And then it hit him.

The emptiness.

The silence.

The wrongness.

His knees gave out, sand puffing around him as he dropped.

“…Pride…?”

His voice broke on the word.

“…PRIDE!!”

Gone.

Stolen.

Ripped from him by force. From his soul. From his very being.

He wasn’t just powerless.

He was incomplete.

He wasn’t whole.

Someone had taken away everything.

His strength. His purpose. His anchor.

Himself.

A scream built in his chest, but didn’t escape. Not yet.

Instead, he ran.

Tripping. Stumbling.

No cursed energy to stabilize his steps. No reinforcement to protect him from the glass. No balance. No direction.

Just sheer panic. A natural human response.

And then—

A shard of obsidian glass. Sharp. Jagged. The size of his head.

He grabbed it with shaking fingers, blood drawing around his hands as he gripped the jagged shard.

Tears clouded his vision, but he didn’t stop.

“If I die—I’ll loop back... I’ll even fight again. I’ll fight the whole damn world if I have to—Reinhard, the Witches, Od Lagna itself—I don’t care—JUST GIVE IT BACK!!”

And then—

He drove it into his throat.

Pain.

Searing.

Blood filled his mouth, thick and choking.

His body spasmed, keeled with his back facing the scorching sun.

And then despite the light shining overhead like a beacon—

Darkness.

---

Gasp—!

His eyes flew open.

Same sun.

Same heat.

Same desert.

Still here.

“No…”

He gripped his head, fingers digging into his scalp.

His breath hitched. Became erratic. Labored.

His reset point had moved forward, why?

“No, no, no—”

Then the scream came.

It ripped from his throat like fire.

“—REINHAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!!!”

A roar of anguish. Of hate. Of desperation.

But the world didn’t answer.

Because no one was left to listen.

Only Subaru.

---

He walked..

And walked..

And walked..

There was no rhythm to it anymore.

His feet didn’t rise—they dragged, carving long, uneven grooves through the burning sand. His shoes had long since fallen apart, torn and frayed, the soles worn thin. Now, every step was just raw skin against heat and grit.

There was no direction.

Just the Watchtower. Subaru's personal coping mechanism at this point. In his little adventure, he hopes that it would give him purpose, or an actual goal at least. Because right now, he is nothing, he's merely a husk that's incapable of truly dying.

Far in the distance, a jagged silhouette against the gold horizon. It was tall—impossibly tall. Taller than logic. It stabbed into the heavens like a blade, and even though it never moved, it also never came closer.

No matter how long Subaru walked, no matter how many hours—

It always remained exactly where it was.

A cruel trick of the world. A taunt. As if telling him to dare try and reach it.

So, Subaru kept moving. Not out of hope. Not even out of stubbornness.

Just inertia.

He was empty now.

Reinhard had taken everything. Not just Pride. Not just victory. He had taken his meaning. Taken his context.

No Emilia.
No Rem.
No Gojo.

They didn't matter.

They weren’t real.
They never remembered. Not like he did. Not across loops. Not through the pain.
They forgot. They left him behind. Always.
They'd think he was being dramatic when he'd roll over and burst into tears. Like he was a joke.

And now, with Pride gone too—he didn’t even have power. Didn’t even have madness to cling to.

Only Subaru.

Only this walk.

One foot in front of the other.

Over, and over, and over.

Until—

His knees buckled.

He dropped forward into the sand, hands sinking into it, elbows shaking as they caught his weight.

A low, rasping breath escaped him. Sweat ran down his brow and sizzled as it touched the ground. His vision blurred, the white heat around him blending everything into a single, formless smear.

But even now, even here, some fractured part of him refused to stop.

His hands pushed. Trembling. Weak.

He rose. Slowly.

Not because he wanted to.

Because there was simply nothing else to do.

He didn't need an excuse. He needed a reason.

Otherwise what was life?

And so, Subaru walked...

Even though the Watchtower never grew.
Even though time stopped mattering.
Even though it felt like the world was playing a joke he couldn't understand.

His legs moved on.

And then—

The ground shifted.

Not subtly.

It shook.

A dull, deep vibration. A rumble through the bones of the desert.

The sand in front of him trembled, then collapsed inward—splitting open like a wound as something vast surged up from below.

A mabeast.

No, more than that.

A monster. A desert leviathan. Wormlike. Towering. Its mouth opened in a grotesque yawn, a ring of teeth, dozens of rows, spiraling inward into blackness.

The beast screeched, its cry like a sandstorm howling through a cathedral.

But Subaru… didn’t move.

He stared.

Blank-eyed, not even fearful at this point. Of course he wouldn't be, he knew he'd come back from death, and had survived an altercation with the Sword Saint himself.

“…Ahhh… fuck it.”

The creature lunged.

And then—

Darkness.

---

Light.

His eyes opened again.

Same sky. Same sun. Same air.

Same body.

Same place.

No escape.

Still no reason.

He lay there, unmoving for a moment.

Then a sound escaped him.

Laughter.

Low. Ragged. Disbelieving.

“…Hah… ahaha… hahah…”

It didn’t last.

It dried up quickly, replaced by a hollow silence that rang louder than any scream.

Subaru’s face twisted, not in anger, but emptiness. He wasn’t going to make that walk again. Not like before.

That endless, stupid trek toward the tower had been a symptom of despair, not will.

Now?

He still wanted to die.

But at least his mind was clearer.

He knew, now, something was wrong with that place.

Something was keeping him away.

Not just distance. Not exhaustion.

Something fundamental.

Magic, maybe. Authority. Reality manipulation... something...

Or maybe even just the miasma in the air. Perhaps if he had woken up hours earlier, he could've just waltzed toward the tower before the witch's miasma replaced the emptiness that Reinhard's attack had brought about during his fight with Pride.

Regardless, he couldn't do that. But that was fine. Even if it meant it'd be more difficult.

He had infinite tries after all.

So—

Once more..

He walked.

---

And this time—

The world responded.

Not gently.

Not kindly.

But violently.

The air around him rippled.

Pressure pressed down, slow at first, like invisible hands pushing against his body. Then stronger. Heavier. The very fabric of the world groaned around him.

His knees bent slightly.

He gritted his teeth.

“U-Urghk—!”

Then the sand exploded into him with the face of a storm.

A fake wind whipped into being—but not wind. Not natural. Not even elemental.

It had weight, physical, it felt as if a pressure was pushing against his entire body like his body weight doubled.

Subaru staggered, shielding his eyes with a raised forearm. Cursed energy flickered into his limbs, reinforcing skin and bone—but even that wasn’t enough. His body was being torn apart by sheer pressure, glass and sand thrown at immense speeds into his body like unavoidable bullets.

The air screamed. Sand blasted every inch of his skin, slicing tiny cuts into him like thousands of needles.

He could barely breathe through the haze.

His thoughts slowed.

“…This isn’t… wind…”

He forced his eyes open.

And saw—nothing through the haze.

No horizon. No tower. No sky.

Just a swirl of sand, space, and silence, all blending together in some kind of liminal non-place, something that shouldn't exist, but with the appearance of a mere sandstorm.

Time lost meaning.

It could’ve been ten seconds.

Or ten years.

Subaru couldn’t tell, just that the very concept of time was irrelevant in wherever he had found himself.

He tried to walk—but with each step, his foot fell into different ground. A dune. A flat surface. A pit. A cracked mirror. Then sand again.

Reality was fracturing.

And through it all—

He tried once more.

“…Pride…?”

Silence.

“…Right…”

He cursed himself.

Why had he even called out?

How did he forget?

Was this absurd place messing with his mind too?

He clenched his fists. Something inside him refused to kneel. Refused to die. Refused to accept this. Cursed energy surged, empowered even further by the lingering miasma in the air. It burned through his body, his circuits pushing beyond their limit.

He screamed as he moved.

Pushed forward.

Even though it felt like space was trying to erase him.

Even though time coiled around him like a noose.

Even though this sandstorm wasn't truly a storm at all—

It was truly reality fighting back.

Trying to stop him from going further, stopping anyone from going further.

But Subaru didn't understand the concept of 'giving up'.

And he always came back.

With a roar, a surge of power, he forced his hand downward, slamming his palm into the broken, warped sand that he stood upon..

And then..

CRACK--!

The ground cracked. No. The world cracked, the space in front of Subaru rippled like a gate, just the sight alone made Subaru force himself into a sprint toward it as fast as he could.

A burst of light exploded from the impact, tearing through the twisting space like a flood.

The storm fell apart.

The pressure vanished.

The desert stilled.

And Subaru—his body broken, his skin cut and burned, his lungs heaving—stood at the center of a silent world.

Breathing. Bleeding.

Alive.

And still standing.

“…What the hell… was that?”

His voice was hoarse.

It was no longer day.

Somehow—somewhen—the sun had fallen without notice.

Darkness had arrived.

Subaru blinked up at the sky. He hadn’t been in that storm long enough for night to fall. He was sure of it.

But there it was—an endless canvas of black overhead. Not a single star flickered.

Only the moon remained, pale and full, staring down like a watching eye.

Too empty.

Too quiet.

Subaru squinted, trying to focus. His thoughts felt slippery. Clouded.

“…Too confusing…” he muttered, shaking his head.

There wasn’t time to dwell on it.

Because in front of him—where broken desert should’ve stretched on endlessly—there now lay a stunning meadow. A vivid, shimmering field, awash in color. A sea of petals and blossoms, more vibrant than anything natural. Red. Violet. Gold. Petals like glass, like silk, like whispers.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be. Something so beautiful couldn't exist for Subaru of all people to see.

But even knowing that—his legs still carried him forward. Slowly.

Each step toward the field felt… lighter. The pressure in his skull eased. His limbs stopped aching. His breath slowed.

He stared.

It was beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt.

And for a moment—

He wanted to stop.

To sit. To rest. Just for a moment. Just for—

Eternity.
Would that be so bad?
Would it? Would it?

THUD—

His foot slammed into the earth, kicking up a cloud of sand.

Subaru froze, eyes wide, sweat trickling down his temple.

“No,” he said aloud. “No. As if…”

His voice sounded distant. Dull.

He forced himself to step back from the flowers, gaze hardening.

Something was wrong.

Not just suspicious—wrong.

Beneath the gentle scent of blossoms was something else. Rot. Poison. Malice. Something so buried beneath the sweetness it could almost be missed.

But not by him.

Not anymore.

He turned away.

And set his eyes on the tower.

It was closer now. Still far, still distant—but closer. Barely. But enough to matter.

Genuine progress.

Then—

RUSTLE—

The ground trembled.

Subaru tensed.

The meadow beside him buckled, then exploded upward—dirt and petals flying as something massive burst from beneath.

He didn’t have time to think.

A blur of claws ripped through the air, carving through the space he’d occupied just a second before.

SWIPE—

He moved.

Cursed energy flared, sharp and fast, his body twisting on instinct.

He skid across the sand, feet carving trails across the surface, breath caught in his throat.

His eye twitched.

He looked up—

And saw it.

“…What… the hell…”

A beast. A monster. No—a witchbeast, twisted beyond natural form.

It stood nearly three meters tall, its body hulking and deformed. Legs short and thick like stumps, but arms long and heavy, claws dragging furrows in the dirt. Its fur was dark—almost black—but threaded through with tangled roots, the same as the meadow’s flowers, pulsing faintly like veins.

Its eyes locked onto him—bloodshot, glassy, feral.

And then—it lunged.

“Urk—!”

Subaru dropped low in a blur, knees bending like a loaded spring before he exploded upward, just barely slipping past a titanic claw that screamed through the air beside him, splitting the sky with raw force.

Midair, he twisted—a corkscrewing blur of motion—before hitting the sand and launching himself forward without pause. Cursed energy flared, violet arcs crackling around his limbs, surging into his legs and coiling in his fists.

He felt it.

Speed.
Power.
Predation.

It wasn’t normal. It was unnatural. Exhilarating. Addictive.

A twisted grin spread across his face.

Is this what it feels like to be Gojo...? Even a fraction of it?

BOOOOM—

A concussive shockwave shattered the silence as Subaru blurred into motion, sand vaporizing behind him, a sonic boom rippling outward from his sheer acceleration.

The mabeast bellowed—startled, disoriented by its prey’s sudden shift in momentum—and raised a claw the size of a wagon to swat him from existence.

And Reinhard…
Reinhard took it, took actual power from me…

SWOOSH—

Subaru ducked low, sliding across the sands like a phantom, the wind from the beast’s blow screaming inches above his scalp. As he passed beneath the monster, cursed energy surged and compressed into his limbs—his entire arm vibrating with coiled destruction.

He twisted, rose mid-slide, and unleashed hell.

CRRAACK—!!!

His fist detonated into the mabeast’s abdomen like a purple comet—cursed energy erupting on contact, amplifying the blow hundredfold. Flesh tore. Bone shattered. Blood geysered into the air in a grotesque arc through it's back.

A crater bloomed in the beast’s stomach—a ragged hole clean through its core.

It reeled. Twitching. Reeling backward with a strangled, gurgling screech.

Then it collapsed, a trembling heap of muscle and failure, blood soaking the sand beneath its dying limbs.

Dead.

Silent.

Subaru stood tall amid the carnage, violet wisps of cursed energy flickering across his entire arm.

He exhaled once.

Slowly.

And grinned.

Then he smelled it again.

Flowers.

A wave of sweet aroma washed over him.

And then—

A spike of pain through his dome.

“Gh—!”

A sudden headache, white-hot, stabbed through the side of his skull like a lance.

He grit his teeth, clutching one eye, vision swimming.

What the hell…?
But still.... that was easier than I expected. Too easy..

And then—

Footsteps.

First one.

Then three.

Then a dozen.

Then hundreds.

The very ground trembled, sand quaked and moved with each movement made..

Subaru looked up, vision blurred, and saw them.

Silhouettes moving from within the meadow. More beasts.

Each of them like the first—towering, twitching, claws dragging through flowerbeds.

So many.

His breath caught.

“…Okay. Nope.”

He ran.

There was no hesitation. No clever plan. No resistance.

He turned, and ran like hell.

---

Miles passed beneath his feet.

“Uff… uff…”

The desert blurred around him.

The tower—it was bigger now. Visibly. Tangibly.

Progress.

But also—

Pain.

Every muscle screamed. His legs burned. Not from the cursed energy—it kept flowing—but from the strain of his body, worn thin by exhaustion and heat and madness.

And behind him—still—they came.

“THESE BASTARDS ARE STILL COMING—!”

He shouted into the night, voice cracking with frustration.

He was faster. That much was clear. But they weren’t giving up.

This wasn’t pursuit.

It was relentless instinct. Programming. Hunger.

His eyes darted forward.

A shadow. A dip in the landscape—a crevice, small and narrow, just barely large enough for a person.

Too small for the beasts.

His heart surged.

Please—

He dove toward it.

The opening loomed closer—sand sloping downward into shadow.

He slid inside, scraping his arms on jagged rock, his body half-tumbling into the hollow.

Then—

Silence.

The stampede didn’t follow.

They stayed outside. Roaring. Scraping. But they didn’t enter.

Couldn’t.

Subaru collapsed against the stone wall, chest heaving, lungs pulling in the hot, dry air in ragged gasps.

His limbs trembled.

The pain was catching up now.

He closed his eyes, head resting against the cool stone behind him.

“I’ll just…”

His voice was barely audible.

“…Wait here. Let them go back to… sitting in their flower meadow I guess…”

Silence again.

---

Time passed.

How long, exactly, Subaru couldn’t say.

Minutes bled into one another, slow and shallow like the air in his lungs.

Eventually, the world outside grew quiet—eerily so. The thunder of clawed feet and bestial cries faded into silence, as if they’d never existed at all.

Subaru waited a little longer.

Then, carefully, he shifted. Pressed one palm to the rough stone and pushed himself up.

His head brushed the roof of the narrow crevice as he crawled upward, breath steady, controlled.

Cautious.

The opening greeted him with moonlight. He hesitated for a moment, listening for any sound of movement.

Nothing.

He exhaled slowly.

“…Alright.”

And emerged.

Sand crunched beneath his feet again as he rose to standing. He took one more glance around the barren desert—still, calm, dead.

No beasts.

No movement.

Subaru let out a shaky laugh, one hand rising to wipe sweat from his brow.

“Well… at least at this rate…” he muttered, “It’s just a matter of time until I get there!”

A smile.

Not a sarcastic smirk. Not bitter triumph.

A real, genuine smile.

His first in…

How long?

A year, maybe less?

He'd truly lost count of how much time had passed.

He looked ahead.

The Watchtower.

Tall, distant, but closer now than ever before.

He’d made it here. All the way.

Alone.

And that thought… that reality… gave him pause.

No Pride.

Not even his shadow at his side.

Just him.

Natsuki Subaru singlehandedly.

No tricks. No partner. No voice whispering strategies in his head.

Just grit. Stubbornness. Survival.

And yet—

That flicker of pride stuttered.

Because somewhere deep inside, another thought crept in.

Would anyone else have made it faster? Stronger..? Probably.

Subaru sighed.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

That small smile wilted.

Then—

CRACK—!

The sand to his left exploded upward, arcing in waves like a broken tide.

Subaru staggered back, eyes wide.

Rising from the dunes, coiled and massive, was a beast—a worm, easily dozens of meters long. Its hide was a dull, sand-washed beige, segmented and twitching. No eyes. No mouth.

Just a gaping, circular maw, layered with rows of jagged prongs like thorned bone.

“Urgh… I really gotta stop speaking so soon—!”

He turned.

And ran, not even bothering fighting it, mainly because he didn't want to get chased by another few hundred mabeasts again.

---

“Uff… uff…”

Breath came ragged.

But he didn’t stop.

Not as the sand behind him buckled again.

Not as another worm burst forth, this one crashing into the first in a blur of hunger and violence.

They were everywhere.

Dozens.

The desert he’d crossed without company now screamed behind him with chaos—worms lunging, diving, collapsing atop one another in their frenzy.

The sand itself became unstable, shifting and collapsing underfoot with every thunderous tremor.

Subaru didn’t look back.

He couldn’t.

He knew what was behind him. Madness.

But..

Ahead—!

The tower.

So close now.

He had to crane his neck just to see the top. The air near it shimmered, warped by heat and pressure—or something less natural.

He laughed.

He couldn’t help it.

Even amid the noise, even amid the ache in every inch of his body—so he laughed.

A cracked, disbelieving sound.

“I’ve made it…!”

Each step was pain.

But each step was real.

His foot hit stone. The sand gave way to cracked, ancient tile beneath him. The base of the tower stood like the spine of a god—immense, overpowering, undeniable.

“I really did it…!!”

He reached forward, almost stumbling into a half-sprint as he got closer and closer.

But then—

His body froze.

Not from exhaustion.

Not from fear.

From something deeper. Perhaps realization, hesitation.

A soundless scream inside his nerves.

His instincts howled—pulling him back, begging him to stop, to turn, to run anywhere else.

Something was wrong.

So wrong.

And then—

Run.
Turn.
Escape.

Something was coming.

Something wrong.

And then—

FLASH-!

A single white gleam.
Far above.
From the core of the Watchtower above.

Like the glint of a sniper scope.

One razor-thin sliver of light, burning, pure, and utterly unavoidable.

Subaru blinked, thinking his eyes were deceiving him momentarily.

His lips started to move.

"All on my ow—!?"

BWOOOOOOM—!!

The air didn’t just explode—it collapsed, torn in half by something far too fast to respond to or evade for someone on Subaru's level.

There was no pain.
No sensation.
Just—

White.

And then—

Black.

No warning.
No sound.
No time.

Subaru’s head didn’t just burst—
It detonated.

Like a melon hit by a railgun. Skull shrapnel sprayed in all directions, misted in an arc of blood and cerebral ruin. Brain matter splattered the sands in a wide fan, warm and wet against the sand.

His body jerked midair—then ragdolled, crumpling like trash beneath the weight of unfeeling physics.

He hit the ground with a wet thud, twitching once.

Then silence.

Notes:

This is my first time writing with information solely based from the novel, so there might be inaccuracies, not sure though.

I'm also gonna switch up the POVs between Subaru and Gojo each chapter while they are separated, just so we don't forget who the mc of this fanfic actually is...

Chapter 29: Fighting the Horde

Two Days Earlier…

Gojo walked slowly through the tattered streets, his boots squelching in mud and rotted foliage. The village felt less like a place meant for people and more like something forgotten by time—abandoned, but still breathing faintly.

A pit settled deep in his stomach.

Something was off.

His eyes darted in every direction, scanning far beyond what sight alone allowed. His senses stretched outward—discerning shapes, feelings, intent—until he confirmed what he had already noticed.

Only beastfolk lived here. And they were afraid of Gojo, or at the very least hesitant to get close.

They didn’t say it aloud. They didn’t need to.

Their eyes lingered, hesitant, whenever he passed. Whispers fluttered behind half-closed doors. Children were pulled aside, away from the stranger in white.

Gojo said nothing.

That wasn’t what mattered right now.

What mattered most—what churned his stomach into knots—was what he couldn’t sense at all.

No cursed energy.

Not just from the surroundings—he expected that, especially because he was in an entirely different world where different laws apply, and thus, no cursed energy.

But from Subaru.

Gojo stopped at a quiet bend in the path, frowning, and placed a hand to his chin.

“So where is he, then…?”

He turned the corner slowly.

What was so important that he’d leave before Gojo even woke up?

I mean… he’s free to do whatever he wants. He’s older than me, technically—

"Pff—"
The thought nearly made him laugh.

Still.

Ram had been with them when they fought Elsa and the Archbishops. If anyone knew where Subaru had gone off to, it’d be her.

It’s only right as his teacher that I know what he’s doing..
..Obviously.

With a small bend of his knee, cursed energy surged through his limbs like blood. Then—

CRACK—

He launched upward in a single, effortless leap—hundreds of feet into the sky. Suspended above the village, he floated, hands in his pockets, wind tousling his clothes.

“Mmmh…”

His Six Eyes scanned everything. Every home. Every rooftop. Every distant mana trace that flickered like a dying candle.

Then, his gaze landed on a slightly larger building, tucked away near the edge of the settlement. Still decrepit—but familiar.

“Found her… and… eugh…”

A wince.

He felt it—the lingering mana, thick and unpleasant. Familiar, unfortunately.

Roswaal.

He grimaced.

“The perver—the suspicious guy.”

Fingers wove together as he shimmered out of the sky. Reality blinked—and he stood at the doorstep, fist raised to knock—

“Oh! Satoru—you’re awake!”

A voice called from behind. Gojo turned, already knowing who it was.

Emilia.

The ever-gentle half-elf stood there, trying to smile—but her eyes betrayed her. Something was off.

“I was… pretty scared..” she said, “When I saw Ram and Subaru carry your bloodied body back here unconscious.”

Gojo chuckled, shrugging one shoulder.

“Takes more than a little gut wound to stop Satoru Gojo!”

Though, that’s probably the the easiest ways to actually take me down… but imma keep that on the down low.

Emilia nodded lightly, the concern in her gaze lingering.

“Do you know what happened to Subaru? I noticed he’s not in the sanctuary anymore.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t shift—but inside, his senses sharpened.

“No? Well… he hardly explained even to us…” Emilia said, shaking her head. “He said he was off to the a desert… to kill a… ‘saint’?”

She paused.

“But what really worried me was the look on his face…”

Her voice quieted.

“It was dark. Like… I’ve never seen before. Cold. Detached. The kind of look that didn’t care about now—only about whatever came next. He didn’t even look at you, not really. You were bleeding out beneath him and he just…”

She trailed off.

Gojo didn’t reply.

His thoughts wandered to something he hadn’t spoken of. A memory.

Subaru. Standing among robed corpses. Blood everywhere—none of it his own.

And that look on his face.

Indifference.

A boy from Japan. A normal kid. Transported to a world of magic and monsters.

And now?

Tearing people apart without blinking.

Unnatural.

Suspicious.

Gojo’s frown deepened.

“…Frightening.” He muttered.

A word he never thought he’d use to describe Subaru of all people, yet.. the word came naturally.

He shook his head.

“I just hope he comes back soon.” Emilia said quietly. “I’m not sure if I have what it takes to do the next trial…”

Gojo’s brow twitched.

A lapse.

A flicker of annoyance.

That mindset was annoying.

FLICK—

“Ahk—!”
Emilia winced as Gojo’s finger flicked her forehead. Steam rose faintly from his middle finger before he lowered it.

He then stepped forward.

“Normally I shouldn’t be helping the competition..” he said, one brow raised. “But you do want the throne, right?”

“O-of course I do! What kind of question is—”

“..Then you may well give up right now, 'cause with that way of thinking you're only wasting your time…”

Her eyes widened.

“No one deserves to rule a country with that kind of mindset.”

“You’re your own person, right?” Gojo continued, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what kind of life you’ve lived before meeting Subaru—but stop relying so much on everyone else. Needing help isn’t weakness obviously. But if that’s all you’re doing…”

He paused.

“…Just be more selfish.”

“Selfish?”

Gojo nodded.

“Yes. Put yourself on a pedestal. If you want the throne, you actually have to fight for it. Not with cruelty—but with purpose, confidence. A ruler who doesn’t care for their people is a tyrant. But one who can’t even stand on their own feet?”

He shook his head.

“.. Is just as bad.”

Emilia stood quietly, letting the words settle. Her eyes sharpened. Hands clenched.

Then—she nodded, a determined look forming on her face.

“…You’re right. Everything you said was right. Thank you!”

She turned and jogged off, her footsteps light but purposeful.

Gojo chuckled, then turned back to the door.

He stepped in.

The air inside was thick—old wood, mana, and perfume. His gaze lowered to the bed.

Roswaal lay there, pale and still—bandaged from neck-to-toe and barely conscious, yet still smiling.

“Ahh… if it isn’t Satoru Goooojo~ I was wondering who that was talking outside. Long time no seeeeee…”

Gojo gave him a blank look.

“Uh-huh. What the hell happened to you? You look like you got hit by a bus..”

“Not quite sure what that means—but this..” Roswaal said, gesturing at himself weakly, “Is what happens when a full-blooded human takes on the Sanctuary’s triiiial…”

Gojo leaned forward, clearly wanting to gain new information.
“Go on.”

“This entire place is the Witches’ Graveyard..” Roswaal said softly. “Where the Witch of Greed—Echidna—met her end long ago. The magical barrier keeps demi-humans trapped. Thus, only full-blooded humans may pass through and leave…”

Gojo nodded slowly.

“Witch of Greed, huh? Any relation to the Witch of Envy?”

A flicker of something passed through Roswaal’s eyes, anger. His smile dipped, and his brows creased, but he kept it impressively well hidden despite his emotions.

Gojo noticed.

He didn’t like that question.

“The Witch of Greed… Echidna… far less evil than the one who nearly destroyed the world,” Roswaal said stiffly. “I’d prefer we use her name—rather than that degrading title. Wouldn’t you?”

Gojo just shrugged in response, he had only said that out of curiosity, and got quite an amusing reaction out of the normally quite hard-to-read man.

“Whatever. So—since I can literally teleport—what’s stopping me from just pulling the demi-humans out of here?”

Roswaal’s eyes gleamed.

“No need for such haste, given my… condition, yes?”

Gojo raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.

“Sure… Well… I got what I wanted from Emilia. Now I’ll find wherever Subaru dragged himself off to.”

He turned, hand on the door—

“Now, now… why such haste?”
Roswaal called, voice lilting.

Gojo paused, glancing back.

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Why do you care?”

“He is his own person, isn’t he?” Roswaal smiled. “Just like you told Emilia. So… let him go. He clearly didn’t tell you for a reaaaason…”

A long silence followed.

Gojo stared.

And didn’t blink.

Even Roswaal began to shift uncomfortably beneath the covers ever so slightly.

“Tsk—let me say this now, so we don't get any future misunderstandings…” Gojo said, voice low. “I don’t trust you in the slightest. If this is your attempt to pull me into one of your little schemes…”

He turned fully.

“…Don’t even bother.”

“Because I will kill you.”

Roswaal flinched ever so slightly. His smile, usually so wide and unsettling, drooped just an inch—just enough to betray a flicker of unease beneath the surface. Yet, the mask of calm amusement he always wore remained firmly in place, a thin veil shielding him from revealing just how deeply he felt the weight of the threat before him.

“I would do no such thiiiing~ I’m merely… looking out for the knight of the one I’m sponsoring~”

Gojo didn’t smile.

He just opened the door and walked out.

SLAM-

Silence.

Inside the room, Roswaal let out a long breath, sinking into the pillow. His gaze drifted to the ceiling.

“…Satoru Gojo…” he whispered. “He is as attentive as he is powerful…”

One hand reached beneath the bed.

He pulled out a black book and pressed it to his chest.

That monster—the Witch of Vainglory, Pandora—is playing a dangerous game with that individual..

“Keep Satoru Gojo in the Sanctuary for two days… she says…”

Easier said than done.

Especially when that man can bend space at will.

Roswaal’s grip on the tome tightened.

Regardless…
You will soon be free, teacher.

“That.. I will make sure of.”

---

Gojo walked across the mud-tattered street, his stride casual, hands pocketed, head tilted slightly downward as he delegated himself to thought.

My dearest student’s been acting off. Disappearing. Taking off on little solo adventures for god knows what reason. Roswaal’s acting weird too… though, honestly, when isn’t he?

He snickered softly at the thought.

Definitely a pervert…

That chuckle almost cost him.

He felt it before he saw it—a sudden surge of intent, barreling toward him at impressive speed.

His eyes cracked open just in time to catch a blurred fist careening toward his face.

“–?”

CRACK—!

His forearms surged upward, intercepting the blow in an instant. The impact rattled through his bones, the raw power behind it enough to push him backward, skidding a meter or so through the damp earth before he came to a graceful stop.

He straightened.

Then smirked.

“Wooow… you’re pretty good—”

“Keep yer damn mouth shut, Witch Cultist!”

The shout tore through the air like a wild animal’s roar.

Gojo’s eyes locked on the fast-approaching figure—yellow hair spiked back like a lion’s mane, his aura burning crimson with fury.

Garfiel.

Gojo didn’t move. His smirk remained, sharp and playful.

Well… let’s see how good he really is.

SWISH—

Garfiel struck again. A jab. Fast.

Gojo craned his neck to the side, dodging it with precision—missing by a purposeful hair.

Another hook flew in.

He dipped under it with fluid grace.

Every strike Garfiel threw was powerful—easily capable of shattering trees. But Gojo? He danced between them like a mirage, his afterimage practically still caught in the air behind him as he evaded.

He backflipped swiftly, forming a wide gap between them once more.

“ARGHH—STOP DODGIN’ N’ FIGHT, YA BASTARD!!”
Garfiel slammed his foot against the ground. A pulse of crimson mana surging through his leg like lightning.

A spike of hardened earth shot up like a spear, aiming directly for Gojo’s chest.

Gojo didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even shift his stance.

“Not bad.”

He instead casually swept his right arm across—

CRACK—!

The pillar shattered instantly, blown apart by the force of Gojo’s swing. Shards of stone scattered like shrapnel.

Before the dust could settle, Garfiel was already there—rushing in with primal speed, fist reeled fully back.

He might actually land this one—!!

GRAPPLE—

Gojo’s hands shot forward, intercepting the strike cleanly. He gripped Garfiel’s forearm tightly, twisting his body and redirecting the momentum to the side.

With a grunt, Garfiel stumbled forward.

And suddenly—

Gojo was behind him, leaning casually against the yellow-haired boys back, both hands resting in his pockets.

Just kidding~

“But that’s about it.” he said calmly.

Garfiel snarled. His muscles tensed. Hair bristled. Fur began to sprout from his arms as his body began to transform. Gojo welcomed it however, it did seem like a power boost, and he was curious at how far this person could go.

But before the situation could escalate even further—

“That’s enough, Garfiel.”

The voice was soft.

Measured.

But final.

A small figure approached, hands neatly folded in front of her, steps quiet as the falling mist.

Ryuzu.

Gojo’s eyes trailed over to her, smile still lingering.

He’d learned by now.. appearances were often deceiving. After all, he knew a four-hundred-year-old loli back at the Roswaal Estate.

“Eh… but Granny!” Garfiel barked, clearly frustrated. “He reeks of the witch!”

Gojo raised a brow.

“…I do?”

Ryuzu’s gaze remained calm, her expression unreadable.

“He is not our enemy..” she said softly. “Preferably the opposite, if anything.”

Gojo clapped once, cheerfully.

“Ahhh, she gets it!”

Then his smirk faded just a little as he mulled over Garfiel’s words.

I smell of the Witch...?

His mind ticked.

Is it the cursed energy? Does it really resemble miasma that closely…?

Similar enough that even someone like Garfiel—who can sense it raw—can’t tell the difference?

I suppose it makes sense. Considering how Subaru can use it is some weird way to empower himself.

He frowned slightly.

Gojo slid his hands into his pockets again, glancing between the two of them.

"Sooo.." he began, tilting his head slightly, "What exactly is the chain of command here? Because first, muscle-head over here tried to knock mine clean off—and now, 'grandma’ is calling the shots.”

Garfiel bristled.

“Tch. I ain’t takin’ orders—I listen to Ryuzu outta respect 'n respect alone.”

Gojo nodded, smile lingering.

“Right, right. Totally different. Not orders, just really stern suggestions you obey without a second thought?”

“Watch it, blindfold.” Garfiel growled, teeth flashing.

Ryuzu stepped forward slightly.

“Both of you, calm yourselves. Garfiel acts as the Sanctuary’s guardian. His strength and loyalty are... unique. But that doesn’t mean his judgment is always clear.”

Garfiel’s ears twitched.

“I can judge just fine!”

“You would've ripped his face off if it were anyone else you attacked then..”

“It's because he showed up reekin’ like a damn witch cultist, that's a sane reaction if anythin'!”

Gojo raised a brow.
“Come on, Garf! You’ve gotta raise your standards.. think outside the box ya know!”

“Don’t call me Garf.”

Gojo looked away, grinning. “Too late, Garf. It’s already canon.”

Ryuzu sighed, gently rubbing her temple.

“I can see this is going to be a long two days.”

That made Gojo pause.

He turned his head back, expression subtle—tone just a little quieter.

“Two days, huh? That’s oddly specific.”

Ryuzu’s gaze lingered for a beat too long, before her eyes shifted to the muddy ground.

“It’s how long the Sanctuary is expected to remain in stasis before another Trial attempt… with Roswaal's injury, and Emilia preparing for the third trial… the balance is delicate.”

Gojo caught that hesitation immediately.

“She doubted herself.” Ryuzu said plainly.
“Her resolve was shaken before. Subaru is her tether. And now he’s gone. But still she stands tall, confident. It surprised even myself.”

“Tether’s a heavy word.”

“But it is the correct one.”

Gojo hummed softly, his smirk fading just a fraction.

Garfiel kicked at the dirt, arms crossed.

“Don’t see why she needs him of all people, he just seemed insane if anythin' when he showed up. But if she’s serious ‘bout takin’ the throne, she should try standin' tall without him, yeah?”

“She’s not you.” Ryuzu said.

Gojo tilted his head, smirking slightly.
“Can appreciate that mindset. Said a few words to Emilia, glad to see it's having effects. Though a little help can go a long way I suppose…”

Eventually, he dulled out the conversation and glared downward toward his opened palm.

So Emilia is spiraling without him, I'd have hoped what I said.. and he's out there picking a fight with something called a ‘saint’. Wonderful.

Saint.. Sword Saint...? Pff.. nah, Subaru's not that dumb. But more importantly...

He glared down at the snowflake in the center of his palm.

"Is it normal for it to snow at this place?"

Ryuzu's head shifted toward Gojo, brows furrowed.
"Snow…?"

She then looked up, catching flakes into her palm just like Gojo had.

Then she stepped back.

"Garfiel. Call all the villagers together and have them hide at the cathedral!"

She pivoted on her foot and began to run off.

"Eh.. granny—?!"

Ryuzu Shima—stoic, precise, unreadable. But now? She was alert. Tight with caution. And for someone four centuries old, that meant serious.

“…Tch.”

Without another word, he turned and vanished into the village, his boots pounding over the slush as he raised the alarm.

Gojo tilted his head, amused. He fell into step beside Ryuzu, strolling like they were on a peaceful morning jog.

“Sooo…” he said lazily, “Is this some dramatic weather shift, or am I about to have a real good time?”

She didn’t answer at first.

“If it’s what I believe it is…” Her voice was low. “Then a calamity is already on its way.”

Gojo’s smirk faded just enough.

“…Right.”

He stopped moving.

Ryuzu looked back. “Gojo?”

“I’ll take point.” He cracked his knuckles once, then twice. “Figure I’ll go see what kind of ‘calamity’ we’re talking about.”

He vanished, flickering out of view in a ripple of cursed energy.

---

In an instant, he stood atop a snow-drenched hill.

The sky above was bruised gray, the snowfall accelerating, dancing like ash caught in a slow whirlwind. The ground beneath him was layered in white, already ankle-deep—and spreading.

A silence hung over the forest. Too perfect. Too still.

Gojo walked forward, his shoes crunching softly in the powder.

“…Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

Then—a flicker of movement.

He paused.

A small, white shape sat in the snow ahead, low to the ground. Still. Watching.

A rabbit.

Its fur was clean, unblemished. Its eyes—two glowing red coals, unblinking.

Gojo crouched slightly, head tilting.

“Now what are you, huh?”

He extended a hand as if to pet it.

The rabbit lunged—fangs bared, jaws snapping—

SNATCH-

Gojo caught it mid-air by the ears, lifting it effortlessly off the ground as it squirmed and screeched, teeth gnashing.

He held it up like a dirty sock and waved it side to side with a grin.

“…Spicy little guy, aintcha..?”

He could feel it now. The sheer numbers that were from the treeline.

He turned his head.

Another rabbit stood behind him.

Then three.

Then fifteen.

Then—

Too many to count..

The snow rippled as hundreds—thousands—of rabbits emerged from beneath the earth, from the trees, from the storm itself. A living, breathing tide of teeth and claws.

Gojo’s hand tightened.

He crushed the first rabbit with a twist. Its bones splintered like brittle wood.

He dropped it to the ground, lifeless.

“Guess I’m breaking the animal cruelty laws again.”

He swiftly tore off the bandages from his face, revealing the Six Eyes—cold, vivid, and gleaming as they fixed on the horde before him

His smile widened.

“…Let’s try this your way.”

The shriek that followed wasn't natural. It wasn't even animalistic, it was like a banshee's screech.

Thousands of abominations roared as one—and charged.

The snow exploded as the swarm barreled forward.

But Gojo didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

---

Inside the village, the cathedral doors slammed shut.

Ryuzu’s voice echoed against the stone walls.
“Seal it! Do not open until we confirm the threat is neutralized!”

Inside, the villagers huddled in the dark, lit only by torches and the golden windows lingering above. The air was cold, but quieter than outside—where war had begun.

Outside—

“RRRHHHH—!!”
Garfiel roared, now fully transformed. His claws tore through dozens of rabbits, snow and flesh erupting with each swing. But for every one crushed, three took its place.

He turned, fangs gleaming.
“WHERE THE HELL IS THAT WHITE-HAIRED BASTARD?!”

“Behind you—!”

A surge of frost blasted over his shoulder.

Emilia’s magic detonated behind him, obliterating an incoming swarm in a burst of ice shards.

“They just… won’t stop!”

“GOOD. NEITHER WILL I!!”

The battlefield was pure chaos—screeches, claws, blood, ice.

But high above it all, on the hill…

There was only silence.

Until—

KRA-KOOOOOOM—!!

A pillar of vermillion light erupted upward from the tree line, obliterating foliage, but more importantly, countless rabbits.

The blizzard halted.

Snowfall stopped mid-air.

And for one, breathless second—

Everything was still.

Then the hill exploded.

A spiraling blue void of gravitational energy swallowed the forest edge, as hundreds of rabbits were dragged into the vortex, their bodies snapping, disintegrating, erased from existence.

Gojo stood in the eye of the storm, clothes fluttering, cerulean pupils gleaming amidst the thick snow that fell.

“Let me make one thing clear—”

He raised one hand, fingers outstretched.

“—You’re not the hunters here.”

Gojo stood motionless.

The wind stirred faintly, brushing past his silver-white hair. Snow drifted down in slow spirals—soft, indifferent.

But his eyes were locked forward.

Beyond the ridgeline, the snow churned violently—a living tide of teeth and fur. Hundreds of Great Rabbits surged like a white tsunami, rippling across the tundra toward the village outskirts.

Emilia’s figure flashed, frost and magic bleeding from her hands repeatedly. Garfiel roared beside her, holding the line in a blur of muscle and fang.

But the swarm was endless.

Gojo’s expression darkened.

He raised his right hand, fingers relaxed, palm open.

A crimson flare ignited. Raw cursed energy gathered, unstable and ravenous, flickering like the heartbeat of a god in the center of Gojo's hand.

“You’re just prey. So don't misunderstand anything.”

And then—

BOOM—!

The cursed sphere screamed from his hand, ripping through the air.

It erupted on contact. The frozen earth detonated. A shockwave flattened the valley. Blood, snow, and sinew sprayed into the sky in a geyser of red vapor.

The frontline was gone. Simply gone.

Gojo lowered his arm, voice dry.

“If I let that slide, what would that say about the strongest sorcerer, huh? Bad look, seriously!”

He didn’t need to look. Although he didn't exactly feel it.

Tiny bodies began clinging to him—rabbits, dozens of them. Biting. Tearing. Scraping furiously at skin they couldn't touch.

They hung there—suspended inches from his body, limbs twitching in futility.

Infinity.

Gojo didn’t glance at them.

“Hm…”

He kicked sideways. A flick of the foot was all it took—dozens of mangled corpses skidded across the snow. Twisted. Broken. Still twitching before others took it's place.

He rolled his neck, vertebrae cracking like dry wood.

“Even for me, this might be a bit much..”

The sky wept snow above. The ground boiled red below.

And then—

He shifted.

FWOOOM—!

A detonation of blue cursed energy burst from his core, blasting outward in a spherical wave for dozens of meters in every direction. The earth caved. Trees split. The snow vaporized.

Everything—rabbits, rock, frost—was flattened beneath the sheer gravitational pressure of his domain.

At the crater’s heart, Gojo stood.

Breathing slow. Controlled.

And then—

He vanished.

No teleportation.

Just sheer speed.

He tore through the swarm like a phantom, a blur laced with blue afterglow. Each motion was a death sentence—a flicker of red, a slash of blue, a rabbit exploding into a mist of bone and fur.

The landscape shredded in his wake.

Crimson trails carved through snowbanks.
Cobalt shockwaves swallowed the terrain.
Limbs. Gore. Silence.

Then, he halted.

Sliding to a stop with his heels digging into ice.

“Hahh…”

Gojo exhaled hard.

“…I’m already feeling it.” he muttered, sweat beading lightly on his brow.

He looked toward the village. Emilia’s hands trembled with frostbitten fatigue. Garfiel bled from his jaw, panting, still fending off stragglers.

But something was… off.

Too many of the creatures were still tailing him and him alone.

“…Huh.”

Gojo squinted. A thought clicked into place.

He raised one foot.

FWOOOM—!!

The ground ruptured again. Dozens of bodies burst like fruit. Snow soaked in red like ink on parchment.

Gojo’s aura rippled—wild, unstable.

He didn’t hide it this time.

Didn’t suppress it in the slightest.

He released everything.

A flood of cursed energy poured out of him, pressure rippling the landscape. Snow fled from his feet. The very atmosphere screamed.

The creatures turned—every single one of them.

They sensed him.

They charged.

A wave of death.

Gojo stood still.

Silent.

Expression unreadable.

Then—

They reached him.

Clawed. Bit. Swarmed his form in a tide of hunger until, if you were stood outside watching, you wouldn't even be able to see Gojo stood in the midst of it.

But none touched his skin.

His body radiated murderous calm.

And still—he didn’t move.

He just brought his hands together.

Fingers forming a seal, intertwining with one another.

One palm pulsed with Blue.

The other with Red.

The two orbs screamed against one another, collapsing space, fighting to annihilate or devour—forces that shouldn’t mix.

Reality groaned.

“…This might hurt me too.” Gojo whispered.

And then—

The fusion.

Violet.

A brilliant, unstable collapse of existence—a singularity in his palm.

Like the core of a dying star.

His eyes sharpened.

Voice barely above a breath.

“Hollow Purple.”

---

Snowfall continued. Thick. Unnatural. Suffocating.

Emilia stood with one hand raised, breathing heavily, her silver hair matted with sweat and flakes. The air stung her lungs with every breath. Her magic was waning—sluggish under the sheer volume of the Great Rabbit.

A shriek tore through the blizzard.

Another.

Another.

She raised an arm again, lips barely moving, and fired another blast of ice. It slammed into a charging rabbit, freezing it mid-pounce before it shattered like brittle glass on impact with a nearby tree.

Beside her, Garfiel growled low, blood spattered across his beastly chest and forearms.

Garfiel stomped down hard, crushing several of the beasts beneath his clawed foot with a crack.

“Rghh—! Little bastards don’t stop…!” he hissed through clenched teeth, claws slick with crimson. “They just keep comin’…!”

Suddenly, a sharp voice echoed through the cold air above.

“Al Goa!”

From above, a torrent of flame rained down like an unforgiving bombardment. Hundreds of rabbits were instantly consumed, their blackened corpses crumbling to ash as the intense heat melted the surrounding snow.

Roswaal hovered down gracefully, his robes fluttering in the biting wind. He landed softly but let out a strained breath, clearly pushing his limits.

“Roswaal—! You shouldn’t be—”
Emilia started, eyes wide with concern.

“..You’re still injured!”
She added, the worry evident in her voice.

The mage chuckled lightly through his labored breaths.

“Why yeeeeesss…~ Miss Emilia. I most definitely am. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt my current state to be weaker than young Gaaaaarfiel over there..~” he said with a smirk, nodding toward the warrior.

It was unlike Roswaal to intervene unless there was something to be gained—and despite his weakened condition, he had made the choice. The stakes were high, but the reward far more interesting to him.

Gojo’s trust was worth more than any treasure.

Emilia’s furrowed brows betrayed her worry. Then, almost instinctively, her gaze snapped toward the treeline. She was no longer merely watching—it was as if she were trying to read the battlefield beyond the snow and trees.

“…Wait.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, hand faltering mid-cast. “The sound… it’s changed.”

The shrieks, growls, the endless chittering of the rabbits—the relentless swarm—

It was fading.

Not gradually, not from slow attrition.

But as if something was swallowing them whole.

Entire clusters vanished in moments. Whole patches of the forest beyond the treeline fell eerily silent.

Emilia’s eyes narrowed, searching the far edge of the woods where the snow thickened like fog. Deep within that white void, a faint glow shimmered—violet and pulsing.

“…Gojo?” she murmured.

Garfiel sniffed sharply, ears twitching with every distant impact.

“Tch… that scent… it’s him, alright,” he growled. “But that mana… no—that ain’t mana. That’s…” His voice trailed off.

The ground beneath their feet trembled.

Just once.

Garfiel braced himself, eyes flicking down to the cracking earth.

Then—

KRROOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

A devastating blast tore across the distant hill, cutting a merciless line through trees, soil, and sky alike. The earth exploded upwards, snow and dirt ripped apart and sent flying. The clouds spiraled outward in fear, as if the blast had torn the very atmosphere agape.

Garfiel’s voice cracked as he swallowed hard.

“Wh… what in Volcanica was that…?”

He had battled titanic monsters, beasts that could level villages. But he’d never felt nature bend itself like this. It was something beyond force—it was a rewriting of the rules.

Emilia’s breath caught.

Her hands trembled—not from fear, but awe.

The blast faded, leaving behind a towering pillar of violet light. It shimmered like annihilation incarnate—terrifying, beautiful, and utterly impossible to look away from.

Her voice was barely audible.

“…Wow.”

Roswaal’s usual composed demeanor broke for a moment. His eyes widened, reflecting the violet glow.

It was unlike any mana he had ever encountered.

Eerily similar to the Witch’s Miasma—yet undeniably different in a way even he couldn't describe.

“Truly a… horrifying individual…” Roswaal said softly, almost reverent. “..Satoru Gojo.”

---

Where Gojo stood, the world had been rearranged.

A crater had replaced the landscape. Not a pit—but a reverse crater. A ring of devastation surrounding a single untouched disc of earth beneath his feet. Everything else—trees, snow, life—was gone.

Shredded. Disintegrated.

The silence was absolute.

Even the snow had paused mid-fall.

Gojo exhaled.

“Ugh…”

Blood trickled from his scalp, running over his brow and into one eye. His shirt was half-gone. Skin on his chest and shoulder was charred raw, and from the elbow down, his left arm from the elbow was missing entirely—blown clean off by his own technique.

Only muscle, smoke, and blood pooling at his feet remained.

He grimaced. Not from pain—just annoyance.

Then slowly, he raised his arm. What was left of it.

And the flesh began to rebuild.

Tendons twisted. Skin slithered over bone. Fingers sprouted from raw muscle like flowers in reverse bloom, until a new hand sat, fresh and flexing.

Gojo glanced at it.

"...I've really gotta stop nuking myself." he muttered.

He wiped blood from his cheek. The skin beneath was already sealing, scabbing, stitching. His voice was dry.

“’Cause yeah… it hurts..”

He surveyed the field—what was left of it—and gave a faint whistle.

“…Effective though.”

With a roll of his neck, he raised both hands and laced them behind his head. A casual stretch, despite the war zone. His boots crunched against scorched earth where snow fizzled and began to retake it's place before he pivoted on his heel, turning toward the edge of the crater, ready to head back toward the village.

Then—

He stopped.

Mid-step.

His fingers tensed behind his neck.

A shiver ran up his spine.

Gojo’s head turned slightly. Just enough to glance over his shoulder.

And his breath caught.

“…What…”

It wasn’t over.

Not even close.

The rabbits had returned.

Thousands more. No... just as many as before. As if the ones he’d erased had triggered something. Some response. Some correction. An endless tide, surging toward him, white-furred and red-eyed, screaming across the snow.

It was like he’d done nothing at all.

His brows knit slowly. Eyes narrowed behind his silver lashes.

“…This might be a rougher shift than I thought.”

Notes:

Back to Subaru's POV next chapter.

Chapter 30: Madness.

The beast’s body crumpled with a sickening, visceral crunch—its mass folding in on itself like paper in a sandstorm, contorted against the strange blend of sand and painted meadow.

Subaru blinked.

No scream.
No tension.
Not even a flinch.

There was no pain to register. No impact to brace for. It had just—
happened.

He’d died. Again.

Not with fanfare.
Not with meaning.
As if the world had simply pressed reset before he could process the loss.

And yet—
He stood.

Breathing.
Present.
Returned.

Not to the beginning, thankfully. Closer. A mercy, maybe. Or a joke to whatever divine being is having a kick out of his torment.

“…Huh.”

His voice came out thin. Fragile. Lost beneath the air.

Then—

CRACK.

The ground trembled.

Fractures webbed outward beneath his feet like splintering glass. And from the ruptures, they came.

First, one.
Then three.
Then an eruption.

Mabeasts—bear-shaped, grotesque—exploded from beneath the soil. Petals of every color imaginable and gritty sand launched skyward as the horde burst forth in a flood of snarls and red-eyed hunger.

Ten.
Twenty.
Hundreds.

Their growls tore through the still air like thunder chasing lightning.

Subaru flinched back a half-step.
His breath caught.

“…Right,” he muttered. “Those things…”

He’d been so wrapped in the haze of return—of not dying again—that he’d forgotten.

Forgotten the onslaught. The horde that had torn him to shreds moments ago.

His legs moved before his mind caught up.

He turned—low—sprinting across the mixed terrain with everything he had.

Don’t think.
Don’t stop.
The pounding of paws behind him was deafening—wild, uncoordinated, desperate.

But this time…
He was different.

Faster.

His legs surged with cursed energy, each step sharper, more responsive. The terrain no longer tripped him. His footfalls felt sure. Deliberate. Deadly.

He had a head start.

Or at least he thought he did...

“Um—?”

The air darkened.
Moonlight dimmed.

He glanced up.

A beast was airborne—massive, mid-leap—plummeting toward him like a meteor made of teeth and rage.

Instinct screamed.
Subaru dropped low, legs compressing, cursed energy snapping through his thighs.

Then—

BOOM—!!

The mabeast slammed down behind him, sand erupting into a shockwave. It crashed into two others, flipping wildly. A chaotic tangle of fur and limbs through the sand.

Subaru didn’t look back.

“Yeah, okay, these things… definitely suicidal.”

He was learning. Fast.

This wasn’t like the sandworm that had swallowed him whole in an instant. No warning. No resistance. Just death.

But this time—

He had cursed energy.
He had options.

He veered right—toward the dunes, away from the Watchtower’s cold, distant silhouette. Not ideal, but better than being dogpiled in open space.

He needed a route.
An exit.
A plan.

His eyes scanned the horizon—until—

“Ghh—!”

One lunged from the side.

He pivoted, dipped, and used its skull as a springboard—planting a foot on its head and launching himself upward.

Wind screamed past his ears.

His landing was rough—a rolling crouch across the sand—but his forward momentum never stopped.

They were everywhere.

Flanking.
Corralling.
Herding him from every direction imaginable.

“Shit—!”

A claw swiped.
Too fast.

Sliced against his reinforcement, not enough to draw blood, but simply jarring. Enough to spin him, stagger his footing as he was launched back.

He gritted his teeth, straightening mid-slide, and tore back into a sprint.

Too many.
Too fast.
Even with cursed reinforcement, he couldn’t take all of them—not at once.

Focus.

If he could get above them—just high enough—he might spot a path. A gap. Something. Anything that didn't involve him getting eaten alive by mabeasts.

He crouched, cursed energy flooding into his legs.

Muscles tensed.
Timing—everything.

He bent.

Prepared to leap—

But then—
A flicker made him hesitate.

White.

His eyes caught it at the edge of vision. A glint—sharp and wrong.

His heart clenched.
A memory surfaced.

The flash that occurred just a second before his death.

He dropped the jump instinctively—instead twisting his body backward in a violent, unnatural arch.

SWOOOSH—!!

Air split open.
A white projectile screamed overhead—missing by inches. It kissed his cheek with its power, leaving a gash that oozed crimson down one side of his face.

Then—
impact.

FWWOOOOOM—!!!

The ground behind him detonated.

A column of sand, blood, and pulverized meat blasted skyward.

The nearest mabeasts? Gone. Eviscerated. Their bodies didn't fall. They had no time to.

They were simply removed.

Like they had no right to exist.

Subaru didn’t stop to process.
Didn’t breathe.

He ran.

Straight into the fresh crater, weaving through the carnage—through the haze of gore and steam. Chunks of meat splattered against his legs. His chest burned, ribs flaring with each ragged breath.

“Fuck, man… You’ve gotta be—”

White.

A flash—so blinding it didn’t even feel real.

Subaru’s jaw clenched tight as he threw himself to the side, launching into the air just before the blast reached him. A split-second later, the ground beneath him ceased to exist.

The white projectile struck.

A concussive boom swallowed the desert in raw violence. The sand where he’d stood was gone, vaporized. The shockwave caught Subaru mid-air and flung him further like a ragdoll.

Cursed energy surged through his limbs. He twisted mid-flight, chest toward the distant Watchtower—miles away now, yet still the center of this chaos.

White.

He didn’t think. He merely braced, a natural response at this point after everything that's happened.

“—!!”

Subaru threw up his arms in a crossed guard, cursed energy hardening around them like armor.

Impact.

The blast struck.
And the sound—it wasn’t just sound anymore. It was pressure. Raw force. It roared louder than his heartbeat in his ears, louder than his thoughts.

And yet—

He was still alive.

For a moment, Subaru believed he'd managed to block it. That somehow, he'd intercepted the overwhelming blast in time.

But then—

“Ah… hkh—!”

Warmth. Then cold. Then a wet gurgle filled his throat.

He stumbled as he landed, feet dragging, sliding through sand.

His vision swam.

Slowly, he looked down.

There was nothing.
His forearms—gone, completely blown off at the elbow. And beneath his chest—

A perfect hole. The size of a basketball. Boring straight through his torso.

“Gurhkk… guhr…”

He fell.

Knees hit first, then his body tipped forward like a falling statue. His cheek hit the sand with a dull thud, eyes dimming, lips still twitching with words he couldn’t finish.

I’ll get through this…
By myself…
I’ll prove to the world that I…
That Natsuki Subaru…
Ain’t pathetic…

Then—darkness.

---

GASP—!

His body moved before thought caught up. He pivoted hard and burst into a sprint—faster this time, already accelerating before the mabeasts could breach the surface.

And just like before—
They did.

Dozens erupted from the earth, snarling, frothing, claws gleaming in the pale light. But Subaru was already gone. The distance widened. 

“God, I get it—I reek of miasma, but it’s literally everywhere! This is rigged!”

He clenched his jaw and kept running.

His thoughts churned, desperate to stitch together anything resembling a plan.

“Okay, okay—someone’s sniping me with white-hot death beams from the Watchtower, miles off. And the only reason I’m not paste already is dumb-uck. So…”

He flinched—remembering his shredded arms, the gaping hole in his chest.

“…Yeah. Not even gonna try blocking that again.”

A stone ridge jutted out in the distance—jagged, uneven, tall enough for cover. Subaru veered toward it, sliding behind with a grunt. Sand scraped his back as he hit the ground, letting out a breath.

Maybe a minute. That’s all he had. Maybe.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, forcing focus.

“What else can I even do...? Up close, whatever that white projectile is, is literally unavoidable, even at range I have to get lucky. This is goddamn impossible…”

A groan slipped out as he clutched his head.

Then—his eyes sharpened.

“Well then—experiment time.”

He vaulted to his feet, cursed energy crackling like electricity down his spine. He turned and took off—sprinting wide, away from the cover and straight toward the pack.

“I can return by—!”

Miasma swirled.
The air answered.
It fed him.

He felt it—an unstable surge. Brief. Volatile. Addictive.

His body could hold together maybe four times. Any more, and it’d rip him apart from the inside.

“I can return by—!”

He said it again. Every time was a dice roll. Every time, a hair-trigger from oblivion.

Cursed energy exploded around him—a storm of seething violet. The ground cracked beneath his heels.

Every mabeast turned toward him in unison. Dozens of eyes. Bloodshot. Starving.

“I can return by—!”

The words stuck.

Perfect.

That meant someone was listening.

This at least told him that whatever's been shooting at him is at least sentient enough to comprehend words, and has absurd senses.

White.

Again, it came.

Subaru threw his hand forward to intercept—

FWOOSH—!!

“URGHH—!”

The force struck him like a battering ram. His cursed armor absorbed most of it—but the rest wrecked his insides. Bones splintered. Muscle tore. But he stayed upright.

He looked to his hand—smoking, blackened, fingers burned nearly to the bone.

But he’d blocked it.

Staggering back, he blinked as the energy faded—and something glinted in the dust.

A single, silver-thin needle.

He stared.

“…A needle? That’s what carved a hole clean through me?”

Absurd. But not all that surprising.

He’d seen Gojo crush stone with a finger flick.

This was just the same brand of god-tier precision.

And whoever was pulling the trigger—

They still had him locked.

The mabeasts surged again. Dozens. Rabid. Relentless.

But as they closed—

FWOOM—!!

Another white shot carved through the horde, vaporizing everything in a curtain of red mist.

Subaru dropped low, diving through the bloody cloud and crawling back to cover.

His breath came in sharp bursts. Cursed energy spat and flared across his battered arms.

His hand—charred nearly through.

But he grit his teeth.

“Whew… fuck… okay. Now what?”

His gaze swept across the desert.

Nothing—nothing—then—

A shimmer.

A subtle ripple in space—like heat against stone. Wavering. Faint. But real.

“…Could that be where I came from?”

He rose, cautious.

“It’s gotta be something. Maybe it’ll pull me out. Even if it just resets me way back to the start… beats taking another shot to the gut or having my head popped like a melon!”

Then—

THUD-!
THUD-!
THUD-!

The beasts finally arrived to where he was hiding.

No more time.

Cursed energy flared—wild and unstable. Purple lightning spiderwebbed around his body. Subaru bent low, his legs coiled tight underneath him.

Then—

BOOM—!

He launched.

The rock formation behind him exploded from the recoil.

In a flash, he cleared a hundred meters, hurling toward the ripple.

Even Subaru blinked at the speed.

“Urghk—?!”

The ripple infront of him warped wide.

Space twisted, bent—
Then fractured.

Subaru didn’t pass through.

He fell.

Reality shattered like brittle glass.
The stars spiraled.
The sky folded inward.

Then—

Nothing.

No light.
No sound.
No sensation.

Only a voice.
Distant. Familiar.

A whisper—

Before the darkness swallowed him whole.

---

“...et… up…”

A voice. Faint—muffled, as though submerged beneath water and wind.

“Hey, get up—wanna forehead flick?”

Subaru jolted upright like a spring-loaded trap, breath catching in his throat, eyes wide and glassy with panic.

His forehead stopped inches from colliding with a poised, bandaged face—held in place by a shimmering film of empty space.

Infinity.

Had it not been active, he would’ve slammed straight into Gojo’s head.

“...Gojo?”
Subaru rasped, blinking through the fog clouding his vision.

He staggered upright, joints stiff, and finally took stock of his surroundings—or rather, the lack thereof.

Darkness.

Endless, formless, smothering black in every direction. No horizon. No texture. Not even stars.

A void that swallowed the concept of place.

Subaru's shoulders rose and fell with each unsteady breath as he tried to ground himself in the only familiar presence nearby.

Gojo Satoru. White hair glowing faintly against the black. Bandages remained, draped over his eyes. Still tall. Still cocky. Still him.

“The one and only.”
Gojo replied casually, as if they were chatting over lunch and not in an interdimensional abyss. He scratched the back of his head and glanced around, squinting like the dark offended him.

“Though… not gonna lie, I’m a little confused how I ended up here with you considering I was just in a sandstorm. But hey, weird days happen.”

He straightened up with a relaxed stretch, peering into the shadows like they might part if he stared hard enough.

“Spooky place though. So, what exactly are you doing here, Subaru?”

Subaru didn’t respond. Not immediately.

Instead, he rose with deliberate slowness, brushing sand from his shirt—His breath was shallow. His eyes distant. The kind of silence that wasn’t just exhaustion—but calculation.

“Doesn’t matter..” he murmured.

Gojo arched a brow. His smile slipped, just a bit.

“So Emilia was telling the truth, eh?” he said, voice dipping lower. “You’ve been off lately. More than usual.”

There was no accusation in his tone. Just a quiet observation layered with something uncharacteristically soft.

Concern.

“Y’know… even if I’m your teacher, I’m still your friend, idiot.” Gojo added, grin returning—though tempered. “So, I’m gonna help get us out of… wherever the hell this emo liminal nightmare is.”

Subaru looked at him with a strange expression. For the briefest second, something flickered behind his eyes before he shook it off and asked what was one of the first things on Subaru's mind.

“Can’t you just teleport us?” he asked flatly.

Gojo snorted. “Teleportation?” He crossed his arms, the gesture exaggerated. “It’s more like manipulating the space-time continuum at the molecular level through the Limitless, but yeah, same ballpark I guess.”

He waved the thought away like it bored him.

“Anyway, two problems. One—I need a spatial anchor. A location to aim for. And that’s usually not an issue considering my brain power, but…” He turned in a slow circle. “I got nothing. No landmarks, no coordinates, nada.”

“And two?”

Gojo tilted his head, the bandages shifting slightly over his face.

“I need a mental lock on where I’m going. A concept. A thread to pull me through the spacial mess.”

His words echoed oddly in the void—like sound traveled slower here.

“But right now?” Gojo shrugged. “Feels like someone took that thread, then took some scissors and snipped it halfway.”

Subaru’s lips thinned. He looked down at his hands—shaking faintly. Fingers twitching with energy that still hadn’t quite settled since the last return.

“So in a less fancy, sciency way... we're stuck.” He said, deadpanning.

They walked, in total silence.

And walked...

“Soooo..” Gojo said after a long stretch of silence, voice light. “How’s my favorite student been since that mess at the mansion?”

The question lingered like smoke. Subaru didn’t answer at first.

Instead, he just walked. Mechanical. Measured. Tension anchored in his shoulders like he carried weight no one else could see.

What do you think...? I’ve lost everything. My power. My reason. My pride.

“...Fine.”
The lie was smooth. Practiced. Automatic.

Gojo didn’t buy it.

“Ah. Well—hm?”

He stopped mid-sentence, head snapping forward. His body tensed. One hand lifted to halt Subaru beside him.

He sniffed the air, nostrils twitching faintly.

Then his voice dropped.

“...Either someone’s having one hell of a barbecue… or that’s the smell of burning flesh.”

“Burning…?” Subaru muttered, brow furrowed.

Gojo crouched slightly and squinted at the space ahead. There, the path split—a fork in the road.

To the left, the smoke grew stronger. Acrid. Charred.
To the right, an invisible pressure crushed against their lungs—malice, almost physical in its presence.

Neither path promised salvation.

Gojo’s grin returned like a reflex.

“Welp. Left it is!”
He declared, already stepping toward the stench.

Subaru’s hand snapped out and caught his sleeve.

“Hell no..”

Gojo turned, puzzled.

“If we’re trying to get out of here..” Subaru growled, “why would we walk toward the burning corpse pile?”

Gojo frowned. Then sighed with melodramatic resignation.

“Mmm… you do have a point… urghhh, fine..”

He spun on a heel like a sulking child, circling around and beginning down the right path instead.

---

They walked.

And walked.

And with every step forward, the pressure in the air thickened.

The wrongness grew teeth.

Even Gojo felt it now—his grin dulled, and his brow furrowed with creeping fatigue.

“This… sensation…” he muttered. “It’s like wading through tar. Dragging me back. Weighing me down…”

He exhaled through his nose, irritated. “Sapping energy for no reason… mentally too.”

Subaru didn’t respond.

He clicked his tongue once and kept his eyes forward. The tension in his jaw made his molars throb.

“Maybe we should pick up the pace… 'cause this is just annoying..” Gojo mused aloud, half to himself.

The words grated.

“Hey. Gojo.”

“Hm?”

“Can you just… shut up? I needa think..”

That stopped Gojo mid-step. He turned slightly, one brow raised in confusion and building edge.

“...What?”

Subaru didn’t blink. His voice was a low growl.

“I said shut up. You’re the reason I’m in this hell in the first place. You showed up and made everything worse.”

Gojo’s grin faded entirely, and his brows furrowed.

“Really?” he snapped. “I showed up because you bolted without a damn word before I'd even woke up. Forgive me for trying to stop my student from running off like an idiot.”

Subaru didn’t look at him. His fists clenched tighter at his sides.

“Maybe I didn’t want your help.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Gojo scoffed. “Because going solo alwaaaaays ends great for you, doesn’t it?”

That one cut deep.

Subaru’s hands shook. His jaw locked tighter.

“I didn’t explain because I wanted to succeed by myself!”

Gojo rolled his shoulders and resumed walking.

“And you’re doing amazing, really! I mean, I KNEW we should’ve gone left. Usually you’ve got instincts, but today? Today you’re just dead weight and it pisses me off.”

That did it.

Subaru’s pace slowed. His face flushed in anger. Something inside twisted—hot, sharp, rising.

His eyes locked on Gojo’s back like crosshairs.

“What...?”

“I’m just saying..” Gojo shrugged, mocking now, “if we’d gone my way, I’d have vaporized whatever freak was deep-frying people and we’d be sipping tea and eating sweets by now. But nooo, you insisted on taking this scenic death route—”

CLENCH—!

Subaru’s fists trembled.

His breath caught—part fury, part something deeper.

“I’m out here because I DON'T want to rely on you!” he shouted, voice breaking with heat.

The air shifted.

Even the haze recoiled.

Gojo halted, back still turned.

“Awww..” he said slowly, voice dripping venom, “so that’s what this is. Finally understood that you’re weak? Finally figured out that without everyone carrying your sorry ass, you’d have died twenty times over by now?”

He glanced over his shoulder—bandages hiding his eyes, but the scorn in his voice sliced through.

“Face it. You’d be dead meat down here without me. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. But we all just pity you caus—”

CRACK—!

Gojo stumbled forward, staggered by the fist that slammed into the back of his skull.

No Infinity.

No restraint.

He caught himself mid-step, slowly turning back, rubbing his neck where the impact landed.

Subaru stood there, knuckles raised. Breathing hard. Eyes burning.

Gojo’s smile returned—but colder this time. Crooked. Unamused.

Predatory.

“Seriously?” he said quietly. “You punched me... knowing full well I could rip you in half before you blink?”

He stepped forward once.

Subaru didn’t move in response.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t back down.

The haze around them thickened, churning like smog, tinged with something foul. Unnatural. It crept into their lungs. Their bones. Their minds.

Gojo’s fingers flexed.

Subaru’s fists curled tighter.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Gojo muttered, voice low now, gravelled. “You never get it. Always whining. Always breaking down. You think anyone’s impressed by hoW you act, by how you wanna go do things on your own?”

Subaru’s glare sharpened like glass.

“At least I actually FEEL something!” he snarled. “You walk around acting like pain’s beneath you—like you’re above it all. You’re not a god, you prick! You’re just a lonely asshole with a power complex.”

Gojo’s head tilted slightly.

“…Lonely?” he echoed, voice tightening. “You’ve got balls saying that to me, of all people! I'm not the one trying to push away the only person who can actually help you right now!”

The ground trembled faintly beneath them—whether from power or pressure, it wasn’t clear.

Subaru spat at his feet.

“You think I want to be alone? You think I like it?! I have to be, because the second I let anyone close—they always die, 'cause of me!”

“Boo-fucking-hoo,” Gojo hissed, stepping closer. “Guess what? That’s life. People die. You aren't special.”

The mist thickened again.

Every breath came harder.

Every heartbeat thudded like a war drum.

Their cursed energy flared—unstable, reactive, leaking outward in short, violent pulses.

Subaru’s voice dropped. Dead calm.

“You know what I hate most about you?”

Gojo chuckled, though it sounded more annoyed than humorous.
“Enlighten me.”

“You never really care. Not about people. Not about anyone. You act like you do, you say the right things—but the second it gets messy? You'll just vanish, right?”

Gojo’s smile was gone.

His expression was stone.

"You're treading on thin ice, Subaru. And you don’t know shit about me either."

Gojo’s voice was low. Cold. Unfamiliar.

But Subaru didn’t flinch.

He took another step forward—eyes wild, breath ragged, hand swiping through the thick, cursed air like it offended him just by existing.

“What was that guy’s name?” he spat. “Suguru or something, right? The only person who actually gave a damn about you. And what did you do?”

He sneered, eyes burning.

“You vanished. Like a coward. I haven’t even you try, hell, or even show interest about returning to Japan-!”

FWOOM—!!

The world jolted.

Subaru didn’t even finish the sentence before Gojo moved.

His fist carved a line through the fog—barely visible before it connected.

CRACK—!!

The hit landed square against Subaru's guard. The impact was overwhelming.

Subaru’s body sailed backwards—arms bent infront of him, reinforcement already shattered—before he slammed into the ground and skidded across the ground, carving a trench in the earth before coming to a violent stop.

Dust exploded outward.

Gojo stood still, fist lowering slowly, his breath sharp.

“Blocked it, huh?” he muttered.

Subaru groaned, dragging himself upright, forearms steaming—reinforcement shattered in patches, skin blistered underneath.

He coughed blood.

But his eyes were still full of fire.

“Attacked me ’cause you know I’m right, huh?”

Gojo scoffed.

“Try me again,” he said darkly, “and I'll erase you.”

“Yeah..? Try me, you stupid bastard!”

Subaru was barely standing—knees trembling, breath heaving—but his voice hit like poison, all defiance and venom and zero sense.

Gojo tilted his head.

But no smile came.

Not this time.

Even when facing monsters like Regulus, he’d cracked a joke or two. Even when standing against a calamity like that, he’d smirked and stayed light on his feet.

But now?

This was different.

This was personal.

Although unreasonable, Gojo felt the intense urge to rip Subaru apart.

The man standing across from Subaru wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

It was something stripped down—something wrathful, and ice-cold.

And it stepped forward.

No sound. No warning.

CRACK—!!

The distance between them vanished.

Gojo’s fist collided with Subaru’s jaw like a sledgehammer, snapping his head sideways with a vicious crack. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body reeled backwards, barely able to keep upright.

Subaru didn’t think. He couldn’t.

He threw a hook—a desperate swing in an attempt to even touch Gojo—

Caught.

Gojo’s palm clamped around his wrist like a steel trap. No effort. No delay.

And then—

BOOM—!!

A palm strike to the gut detonated against Subaru’s core. The air left his lungs in a gagging wheeze as his body launched backwards—skipping like a stone across cracked earth.

WHAM—!!

A blow to the spine followed before he hit the ground, the impact throwing him forward again—and straight into Gojo’s waiting hand.

Fingers curled around his throat.

Tight. Cold. Suffocating.

Gojo lifted him like dead weight, Subaru’s legs kicking helplessly above the ground in an attempt to pry himself free.

"You think... you know me?"

SMASH—!!

A punch drove into Subaru’s abdomen—deep, cruel. Multiple ribs shattered at once, the sick crunch of bone echoing louder than Subaru’s scream. Pain ripped through his nervous system like fire—paralyzing.

“G-Gurghkk—!!”

Gojo’s grip didn’t loosen, it only intensified.

His voice was ice.

"You don't."

CRACK—!!

Another strike. Precise. Deliberate. Devastating.

Subaru’s ribs folded inward—snapping like twigs, bone tearing into flesh, muscle rupturing. His breath hitched. His eyes rolled.

His mind flickered.

Then Gojo let go of his throat… only to seize him again by the back of the skull.

And this time—

BOOM—!!

He slammed Subaru face-first into the earth.

The ground howled. The crater exploded outward like a meteor strike, dust and haze vaporizing from the force, stones flattened into glass under the heat and pressure of Gojo’s wrath.

Subaru twitched once in the center.

Then stopped.

But Gojo didn’t.

Something inside him still burned—still refused to settle.

He grit his teeth, rage trembling in his jaw as he yanked Subaru up by a fistful of his dark, matted fringe. The boy’s body dragged limply behind him, scraping against the stone like a corpse too stubborn to die.

"You get it yet… Subaru?” Gojo’s voice was hoarse. Quiet. Deadly.

“You’re not on my level. And you never will be.”

He stopped walking—threw Subaru’s body forward like garbage.

“You could have all the potential in the world. Hell, take take Reinhard's potential, rewrite your fate a thousand times…”

Gojo stepped over him.

“And it wouldn’t change anything.”

He crouched, face inches from Subaru’s bloodied expression.

“Because you… are still Natsuki Subaru..”

The words landed.

Subaru’s mind tried to retreat from the pain—but it couldn’t.

Why him?
Why was it always him?
Gojo wasn’t even trying.
Would it change if he had Pride back?
...But hadn’t he already been Pride once?

His fingers twitched. His thoughts clawed toward something buried—something deeper.

THUNK—SHNK—SHLK!

Gojo’s body jerked. He blinked.

"-?!"

His arm ruptured—black spikes driving outward through his forearm like a pincushion. Dark energy surged into his veins, warping flesh and tendon before the spikes dissolved back into mist.

He recoiled, hissing in pain.

Even with RCT mending the damage swiftly, he stared at the wound with something rare.

Surprise.

But Subaru was already moving.

Blood ran from his eyes. Tears mixed with red.

He was shaking.

But he stood.

He rose.

The shadows bled from his skin. Veins lit with agony. Darkness swelled behind him like a cloak of living malice.

The Authority of Pride had never left.

It was just buried.

Harder to reach.

And now—Subaru reached.

He roared, flinging his arm skyward—

Spikes of abyssal black surged out like spears toward Gojo.

But—

It didn’t matter.

Because he was fighting Satoru Gojo.

“Red.”

Gojo lifted his now-healed arm casually, index finger aimed like a gun. A crimson core formed at his fingertip—then unleashed. The vermillion blast expanded like a collapsing sun, obliterating everything in its path.

It struck Subaru head-on.

BOOM—!!

He was hurled backward like a ragdoll—bones crunching, lungs screaming, mouth open in a silent gasp of pain—as he was blasted through the air and smashed into a distant wall.

The stone cracked behind him.

Blood dripped from his hairline.

His vision blurred.

And then—

Gojo flickered. Appeared in front of him.

CRACK—!!

A shin smashed into Subaru’s face. The wall shattered behind his skull as his neck buckled from the impact.

His brain rattled. Something behind his eyes broke.

Gojo crouched—expression blank. No joy. No rage.

Just emptiness, anger.

His hands wrapped around Subaru’s throat again—this time slower. More methodical.

Tighter. 

“Fucking... die.”

The words came in a whisper. Almost a prayer.

“DIE. DIE—DIE!!”

The grip intensified.

Reinforcement cracked like glass under pressure.

Subaru’s throat caved in.

Blood spilled past his lips, his hands twitching weakly at Gojo’s wrists—but there was nothing left.

No strength.

No light.

Just the creeping cold.

And then—

Darkness.

Chapter 31: Slaughtering the Horde.

“…This might be a rougher shift than I thought,” Gojo muttered, voice low—almost like an absentminded observation. His cerulean eyes narrowed faintly as he stared into the still air ahead of him. It was quiet again. Heavy. The snow settled like mist. But not for long.

The white tide returned.

Thousands—tens of thousands—of crimson-eyed rabbits, bounding through the frozen haze, their shrieks high-pitched and wild. They crashed forward like a living avalanche, all fangs and fur and hunger.

Gojo didn’t blink.

They were back. All of them. Maybe more than before. And yet—he could still see the shattered tree lines in the far distance. Still feel the crater left behind from the last Hollow Purple. It had annihilated everything in that direction. Flattened the entire field.

But now the rabbits were here again. As if nothing had happened.

“…No way,” he whispered.

One got close. Too close. Its jagged teeth snapped inches from his arm, but struck nothing but air—Infinity shimmered faintly around him, repelling the beast like a divine barrier. Gojo swatted lazily, his palm meeting the rabbit’s side with effortless force. It shot off like a ragdoll, tumbling across the snow until it disappeared into the crowd.

He stepped back, not out of fear, but calculation.

His mind worked behind still eyes. Calm. Focused.

I counted them. I watched from above. Purple wiped out everything. That was the entire swarm. There’s no way this many survived. This isn’t regeneration. It’s replication. They’re multiplying. Instantly. Clones? Organic duplication? Something weirder? They’re rabbits—but they’re not rabbits.

He scanned the edge of the mob again.

No end in sight.

They’re being created. Not summoned. Not warped in. Born. Fast. I can’t even sense it. They just… appear. And for every one I kill, another fills the space.

His fingers twitched at his side. The cursed energy hummed lightly under his skin, waiting.

This was worse than the White Whale for Gojo to fight in his opinion. That thing had presence. Mass. A center of gravity. These things were chaos given form. Designed for one thing only—to eat. To erase. A self-perpetuating curse. Living hunger.

He breathed out slowly through his nose.

“So that’s how it is eh..” he muttered. A quiet, humorless breath followed. “Heh. What a pain.”

The grin that tugged at the edge of his mouth didn’t touch his eyes. They stayed cold. Bright. Unflinching.

He tilted his head slightly, neck popping once. He’d seen fire earlier—when he was still floating above the field. An orange flare through the snowy mist. That would be Roswaal. The clown mage had shown up after all.

“Bold, considering his condition.” Gojo murmured. “Guess he’s not quite out of tricks.”

Still. If Roswaal was there, then Emilia and Garfiel were holding out. For now. They had time. But not much. This couldn’t drag out.

He stepped forward again.

His foot slammed down.

The explosion wasn’t fire. It wasn’t sound. It was force. Pure cursed energy cracking the snow like brittle stone, sending a shockwave in every direction. The terrain folded like pressure had just tripled in an instant.

The rabbits surged.

Gojo’s arm rose. Just a flick of his wrist.

“Red.”

The air screamed.-

Everything in front of him bent, warped, and then detonated. Dozens—hundreds—gone. Vaporized mid-pounce. Nothing left but blood mist and clumps of fur.

But more came.

“Red.”

CRACK—

The ground split beneath his feet. Another pulse. Rabbits crushed where they stood. Bones flattened. Flesh scattered. No resistance.

“Red.”

CRACK—!!

Another wave pulped instantly. Blood sprayed against the air like rain. The blast radius stretched wider. His voice didn’t rise. His breath stayed calm.

“Red.”

CRACK—!!!

The snow wasn’t white anymore.

Crimson soaked the ground. Rabbit remains piled up in steaming heaps. Mangled limbs and shattered skulls layered across what had once been pristine frost. Gojo stood in the middle of it all, untouched. Untouched not by chance, but design.

No blood stuck to him. No shred of gore clung to his clothing or body. It all stopped, perfectly, at the edge of his Infinity. Hovering. Repelled. Unworthy.

He clicked his tongue once. Annoyed.

“…What a pain.”

Because they kept coming. A flood with no source. A nightmare without end. For every hundred erased, another thousand rose to take their place. Mindless. Hungry. Tireless.

A tide of fangs and instincts, moving like one organism with no center.

---

Farther off, Emilia was beginning to tire. Her chest rose and fell quickly, ice magic swirling around her arms with less strength than before—but she didn’t let herself falter. She couldn’t. Not when Garfiel was bleeding. Not when Roswaal was burning away what little mana he had left. Not when Gojo was holding down his own battlefield solo.

And definitely not with all those villagers inside the cathedral.

If she fell now, everything would collapse.

If I can’t even protect these people… then what kind of ruler would I be?

Roswaal was slowing too already. She could see it now—his movements growing sluggish, spells dimmer. He hadn’t fully recovered in the first place. But he was still pushing.

Garfiel was holding strong in comparison to the mage. His brute force tore through dozens at a time, but even his claws weren’t fast enough to stop all of them. They needed more. A plan.

So far, none of the rabbits had breached them.

Until now.

A group broke from the main swarm. Slipped around the flanks. Dozens peeled off, sprinting straight toward the cathedral. The air was filled with snarls and shrieks.

Emilia’s heart jumped, her head snapping to the side, eyes wide. “No—!”

One of the rabbits lunged—straight for her face as she lowered her guard, mouth open.

A blur of gold intercepted.

SMASH-!

The creature exploded midair. Blood splattered across the snow in a fine mist. Garfiel landed next to her, claws dripping.

“Rhhh—stay focused, princess!” He snapped, crouched low.

Before she could answer, a wall of fire engulfed the rabbits nearest the cathedral. Roswaal’s magic roared in a ring, reducing them to cinders. He staggered, chest heaving, eyes twitching from exhaustion.

“Lady Emilia…” His voice was breathless. “If we are to act as you intend for us… it must be noooooow~ I only have mana for a few more large-scale spells…”

Emilia didn’t hesitate.

She flung her hand forward. A swarm of icicles erupted toward the next wave of rabbits. Each one struck true. She looked toward Garfiel, still soaked in gore but grinning wide through his beast form’s bloodied jaw.

She thought of Gojo again. His words. The way he looked at her—not like she was weak, or useless, but like she could be strong, could be useful, not the one having to be carried around everywhere.

She couldn’t keep waiting for Subaru to save her.

She couldn’t keep waiting for Puck to help her.

She couldn’t wait at all, she had to take charge.

“Garfiel—now!!” She yelled.

The gold beast leapt backward, snarling. He slammed his foot into the earth—deep—and the ground caved. A monstrous sinkhole yawned open, spiraling down like a vortex. Dozens of rabbits fell in, their screeches echoing as they were swallowed by stone and falling snow.

“Do your thing now! They’re already climbin’ out!”

Emilia turned. Roswaal landed beside her.

Together, they raised their arms.

A towering icicle rapidly began to form—huge, wide, impossibly sharp. It gleamed sky blue, crackling with impressive levels of mana.

They spoke in unison.

“Ul Huma!”

The icicle fell.

It crashed into the sinkhole like a comet, slamming through the writhing mass of rabbits with cataclysmic force. Everything went still.

The ice stood tall. A frozen monolith.

Nothing moved.

No more rabbits climbed from the pit.

“Uff… uff…” Emilia gasped, hands on her knees. Her shoulders trembled.

There was silence, they had played their part to the fullest.

No rabbits remained. Not here. Not for now, so it was up to Gojo to finish it.

---

Gojo swiped his arms through the air with precise, sweeping movements—each stride backward covering several meters, Infinity folding the space between his steps. Every swing of his hand unleashed a Red or a Blue, tearing through the tide of white-furred mabeasts like paper caught in a jet engine.

They didn't stop.

They never stopped.

The faintest trickle of sweat slid down his temple.

He exhaled visibly, breath misting in the cold as he crouched slightly—then launched himself upward. The world bent around him. Infinity distorted the air, keeping him suspended in the sky like a god above the battlefield.

His hands came together slowly, palms meeting. He inhaled deep—then split them apart. A thick strand of glowing blue stretched between his fingers like a filament unraveling from the universe itself.

"Maximum Output: Blue!"

Ten orbs burst from his body, far more than he had ever done at once before, but he had no choice but to experiment.

Cerulean spheres, pulsing like black holes, shot outward—controlled manually by Gojo’s will. They spiraled across the sanctuary in wide arcs, devouring everything in their path. Trees uprooted and vanished. Earth fractured and disintegrated. Primarily, the rabbits—thousands of them—imploded without a sound.

The sweat ran heavier now.

A line of blood traced down from his nose.

Gojo ignored it, ignored the steady damage to his brain, it wasn't that surprising after all—he had never used blue to such a degree before and was certain this was his current limit.

The technique was taking its toll.

Still... he could feel it.

Emilia. Garfiel. Roswaal. They’d done their part.

Now it was his turn to finish it.

"...Haah. This is going to suck."

He muttered, watching as the last remaining clusters of rabbits scurried aimlessly below—confused, uncoordinated. Some gave up chasing him in the air, turning back toward the village with terrifying instinct.

He didn’t let them get far.

One orb—then another—swept low, streaking across the ground like a comet tearing through the atmosphere. Wherever they touched, the world folded inward, space collapsing with a thunderous, soundless rush. Trees vanished. Earth funneled into itself. Rabbits were pulled into nonexistence—swallowed whole, as if they had never existed in the first place.

Like black holes dancing through the snowfall, the Blue orbs consumed everything in their orbit. But even Gojo had his limits. He couldn’t sustain all ten. Not indefinitely. Not like this.

One flickered.

Then another.

They fizzled out—burning themselves to ash in the sky, one by one—like stars collapsing under their own weight.

Too many.

Even for him.

Still hovering in the air, Gojo narrowed his gaze, the glow of his Six Eyes flaring as they honed in—not on what he could see, but what he could sense. A few hundred meters away, beyond the broken treeline and the torn ground, just past the edge of perception.

But he didn’t need to see.

He simply knew.

Roughly a hundred more. Maybe slightly less. Rabbits—ravenous, merciless, tireless—tearing through the forest at breakneck speed toward the village. The last wave. The final remnants of that cursed gluttonous swarm.

If they reached the village—

If they multiplied yet again—

It wouldn’t just be a setback. It would be catastrophe. A true disaster this time.

His eyes sharpened. His fingers began to curl, interlocking.

His brain roared with activity. A supercomputer under strain. Equations ran in flashes behind his eyes, distances, air resistance, terrain curvature, the trajectory needed for him to strike accurately.

His cursed energy twisted in his chest—anomaly building on anomaly, Red compressing with Blue, opposites repelling and attracting in perfect harmony. Friction against friction. Force against force.

A faint, almost imperceptible hum built up at his palm.

Then—

The air cracked.

Not a thunderclap.

Not a rumble.

A snap—sharp, precise. Like the laws of the world had fractured in his hand.

A spark of violet ignited between his palms—tiny, almost delicate.

But it grew.

Faster than thought.

Power compressed into a single, spiraling orb of light and death—a swirling storm of mass-erasure so dense it warped the air around it. Trees bent away from it. The sky darkened slightly, as if the sun itself was trying to recoil.

Gojo’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the wind like a blade.

“Hollow Purple.”

And then—he flicked his wrist.

The orb moved.

It didn’t fly. It disappeared. And the world screamed in its wake.

Everything between him and his unseen target was erased. A perfect spiral carved itself through the landscape—an open wound in the fabric of space, a tunnel of death multiple hundred meters long.

It twisted as it traveled, rotating like a galactic drill through the environment. The snow exploded. The trees were shredded down to their molecules. The air itself ruptured.

And when it reached the rabbits—

There was nothing.

Not even ash.

No explosion. No fire.

Just absence.

A colossal hollow crater, perfectly smooth, was left behind—scooped out of the earth like some divine hand had simply plucked the terrain away and decided it didn’t belong anymore.

Gone.

All of them.

Every last rabbit—gone.

Gojo hovered above the carnage, body trembling ever so slightly.

Then—

“Urgkh—!?”

He gagged, blood bursting from his mouth in a red stream that painted the air and splashed into the snow below. His eyes bloodshot. Tears of crimson trailed down his cheeks. Blood spilled from his nose, even his ears.

His brain had seized. For multiple painfully long seconds, it simply stopped functioning—neurons fried by the toll of unleashing more of his cursed technique in a singular moment then he had ever.

But then—Reversed Cursed Technique flared again.

Veins stitched. Blood vessels reformed. His cognition stabilized.

His heart slowed.

His breath returned.

And when it did, he chuckled—dry, rasping.

“…Okay. That one might’ve been… a bit overkill… but that would've started to become a real problem if the rabbits came back again so I just had to make sure.”

He floated back down to earth, legs nearly giving for just a moment before he caught himself.

Around him, the world was silent.

Dead silent.

Scarred and mangled—fissures splitting the snowfield, craters smoldering in the distance, the sanctuary shattered like brittle glass in areas.

He looked around, whistled low, and muttered under his breath.

“Well… hopefully the villagers are the forgiving type.”

He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, then stooped to gather some snow—pressing it to his face, cooling the hot sting of lingering exertion, scrubbing away the streaks of red.

---

The snow was red in patches.

Silent, now. No more screeches. No stampede. Just the crackling of a few scattered fires licking at the wind, and the groaning of wounded trees tipping in the distance.

The Sanctuary was a graveyard once more.

Garfiel’s beast form had faded, leaving him in his more human-like hybrid state—panting, bloodied, shirtless, fur stuck to his skin with half-dried rabbit guts before he flicked them off in disgust. He stood with one knee in the snow, a hand braced against the ice-covered ground, catching his breath. The veins in his arms were still twitching.

Roswaal leaned against a tree—or what was left of one. Most of the trunk had been incinerated earlier by his own magic. His coat was hanging off one shoulder, the right sleeve scorched away entirely. His skin, pale to begin with, now seemed ghostly. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his heterochromatic eyes were half-lidded, barely focused.

And Emilia—her cloak was tattered, frostbitten edges curling and flaking like burned paper. She knelt in the snow, palms resting on her thighs, shoulders heaving. Her breath came in thick clouds.

None of them spoke.

Not yet.

Until—

Crunch-

Crunch-

Crunch-

Their heads turned in unison.

The sound of footsteps—lazy, deliberate—pressing down into the frozen terrain with each step.

And then he appeared.

Gojo Satoru.

Snow clung to his boots. His outfit was completely intact—miraculously—but the collar was open, blood staining the inside of the fabric from a wound already healed. His blindfold was slightly askew, revealing the glowing edge of one brilliant cerulean eye before being fully wrapped up.

He waved lazily with one hand.

“Yo.”

None of them answered.

Emilia just blinked, slowly.

Roswaal squinted.

Garfiel bared his teeth slightly, not quite a growl—more like a reflex. Tension he hadn’t realized he was holding onto.

Gojo looked between them, then at the battlefield.

Then whistled.

“…Damn. You guys actually held out. I’m impressed!”

“Barely though..” Emilia muttered, forcing herself upright. She rubbed the side of her head, eyes lingering on a shattered tree stump. “If you hadn’t finished off the last wave, we would’ve been overrun in minutes…”

Gojo shrugged. “Wasn’t gonna let that happen. You think I wanna tell Subaru his crush got eaten by RABBITS while I was busy floating around looking cool?”

That earned a faint snort from Garfiel, who coughed once and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look like hell dude!” Gojo said to him.

“Tch. You should see the other… rabbits…” Garfiel muttered, jerking his chin toward the horizon. “Oh wait… ya can’t. ‘Cause they're paste now!”

Gojo grinned faintly. “That’s the spirit.”

Roswaal finally spoke, voice like broken glass wrapped in velvet. “And you, Gojooo... left quite~ the impact on the landscape.”

He gestured weakly toward the massive crater still steaming in the distance.

“I had to. Last group of the damn things was trying to flank the village…” Gojo said, wiping dried blood from under his nose. “Didn’t have time to play nice. Figured a little property damage was better than letting them all get chewed apart.”

Roswaal nodded slowly, eyes scanning the scorched surroundings. “A point… certainly difficult to aaargue against… Though I do suspect the villagers may require some manner of explanation regardless.”

Gojo just shrugged in response.

Emilia stepped forward, her expression softening. “Gojo… thank you.”

He looked at her, blinking once, caught slightly off guard.

“I mean it!” she said. “That was… beyond anything I could have imagined. I didn’t think anyone could destroy that many at once. Not even Roswaal.”

Gojo scratched his head. “Yeah well… I fried my brain while doing it so..”

He stretched his arms above his head with a groan, then paused—wincing slightly as he pressed two fingers to his temple.

Roswaal’s eye twitched at Gojo’s words. The idea that even someone like Satoru Gojo—a man who had just torn through the vast majority of an ancient mabeast like it was an afterthought—wasn’t entirely invincible… was oddly comforting to his plans.

But it also made him even more wary in a way.

Did this man possess some kind of regenerative ability? Something so potent it could heal brain damage in seconds without leaving a sort of scar? That was no ordinary healing. That bordered on myth.

Still, Roswaal cleared his throat and forced a grin.

Gojo continued.

“Regardless… I’m proud of you forreal! Subaru will be too, once he’s back. You took that loser’s mindset you were clinging to and flipped it into something—well—decently impressive, sooo... niiice job~”

Emilia smiled quietly, her eyes closing as she nodded in warm agreement.
“Mhm.”

Gojo exhaled softly, the grin on his face fading just for a second. That peace was interrupted by the thunderous creak of the cathedral doors flinging open in the distance. The sound echoed through the wrecked sanctuary like a final punctuation mark to the chaos.

Villagers from both Arlam and the Sanctuary poured out cautiously, eyes darting around, taking in the destruction.

The village itself was largely untouched—but the land beyond it told another story.

The outskirts were devastated. Massive trenches and craters carved the earth like scars left by a titan’s wrath, steaming mounds of snow and scorched dirt stretched in every direction.

He could feel their eyes on him—dozens, maybe more. The whispers came quickly, hushed but cutting, floating to his ears like gusts of cold wind.

“Did they really kill all of them…?”
“What even was that thing…?”
“Was it summoned here…?”
“Did the outsiders bring it…?”

Fear. Awe. Gratitude. Suspicion.

He couldn't blame them.

Gojo sighed and turned slightly, catching Emilia’s gaze. She stood just beside him, offering a reassuring smile meant for the crowd—but he could tell she was tired too.

Without warning, he reached out and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

She blinked in surprise, brows rising.
“Gojo?”

Before he could answer, Roswaal stepped forward, his voice drawing a slow curl at the edge of Gojo’s lips.
“Gojooo… perhaps you should—mmm—explain to the villagers? Calm their… paranoia…?”

Gojo smirked, barely glancing back at him.

Of course... still trying to manage everything from the shadows. He doesn’t want me leaving yet. Well… too bad.

Roswaal's expression darkened for a second, brows furrowing through the smile that didn't quite meet his mismatched eyes.

Still smirking, Gojo raised his head.
“Nah you can do that, I'm busy!”

And just like that—he and Emilia vanished in a flash of distorted space.

---

They reappeared inside one of the moss-covered homes deeper in the Sanctuary—a dusty, half-forgotten library that probably hadn’t seen life in years. It smelled of parchment, mold, and faint magic residue.

Gojo immediately stepped toward the one intact shelf, rifling through the aged tomes like a man on a mission.

Emilia followed, confused.
“Gojo… what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer at first. Not until he pulled free a crumpled, folded map—nearly a meter across when unfurled—and slapped it flat on a nearby table.

He stood across from her, finger tracing across the worn paper.

“I’ve got a good memory.” he said, “but I want to hear Subaru’s words from the one who heard them firsthand.”

Emilia blinked.
“You’re… going after Subaru?”

Gojo nodded, eyes locked onto the map.
“Yeah. Anyway—”

Emilia leaned forward, trying to find what he was so focused on. The map was somewhat detailed: the full expanse of the Dragon Kingdom Lugunica, marked with forests, mountains, rivers, cities. Though only the more important parts were actually named on the map.

“Right… Subaru said he was ‘going to the desert to fight with a Saint’…”

Gojo’s finger stopped after just a moment.
“Then… there, I'd imagine.”

He tapped the parchment.

“The Augria Sand Dunes. That’s the only place he could've meant…”

His brow twitched, frustration clear as he mumbled to himself.

The Pleiades Watchtower... that’s in those dunes, right? That’s where the Witch of Envy is sealed—I think? And Subaru’s headed there… to fight a… Saint? What kind of suicidal idiot—

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly annoyed.

“Ugh… this is just stupid complicated. And I can’t even teleport all the way there, so even for me, it’s gonna take some time.”

Emilia opened her mouth.
“Then I can—”

“No.” He cut her off, shaking his head gently. “You can’t come. Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself—but because you’ve still got your own trials here to finish. Right?”

Emilia paused, then nodded, her expression softening.

Gojo’s smile returned—tired, but sincere.

“Then pass ‘em all. Shock Subaru. Make him cry when he sees you standing tall.”

She chuckled quietly, her silver hair swaying.
“I will! Do you need a ground dragon or anything?”

“Nah.” He cracked his neck, walking toward the door.
“I’ll be fine.”

He looked back once—his figure outlined by the low light through the moss-covered window.

“I always am.”

---

Gojo’s breath came heavy as he ran through the night, his chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. Strands of his fringe clung to his forehead, slick with sweat as he sprinted across the uneven terrain.

“…Fuck… I might’ve sorely overestimated myself here…”

He muttered to himself, boots skidding slightly as he slowed his pace. The dense thickets of the Elior Forest were long behind him—judging by the wider plains and sparser tree coverage, he figured he was finally out of that damned massive place.

He came to a gradual stop, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees for a moment before patting his stomach with a light groan.

“Could’ve used a pack lunch or something… not really used to this whole ‘hunter-gatherer’ vibe.”

Gojo gave a short, breathless chuckle—then perked up. From the distance, faint cries drifted in through the wind. Screaming?

His expression turned alert.

It was far off, but he wasn’t about to ignore someone screaming for help. Especially not while he was this bored.

---

“C’mon… c’mon! Just cliiiimb! Up, up, up!!”

A young man draped in green garb—with tousled grey hair and frantic energy—was shouting desperately at a ground dragon currently dangling halfway off a cliff. Its hind legs clawed at the rocky edge, the beast's full weight straining against the harness of a wooden wagon teetering behind it.

Somehow, miraculously, the wagon hadn’t fallen with the ground dragon just yet. But it wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’M FINISHED AS A MERCHANT IF YOU FALL, YOU KNOW!!”

The man’s voice cracked in panic. Just as the dragon began to slip further—

—everything stopped.

Rather, it lifted.

The dragon—and wagon with it—rose slowly, as if hoisted by some unseen force, and then drifted sideways several meters before being softly set down on solid earth.

“…You can fly? Wh–What!?”

“Nope.”

Gojo’s voice cut through the air as he appeared, now standing casually atop the wagon like it was nothing. He hopped down, boots crunching softly against the dirt as he approached.

The merchant blinked at him in disbelief, then coughed into his fist with forced dignity.

“I… I see! Well! You just saved both our hides, kind sir, so allow me to express my sincerest—”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries—” Gojo waved it off with a half-shrug.

Then the merchant leaned forward, peering at him suspiciously.

“…Have I met you somewhere before?”

Gojo tilted his head, raising a brow.

“Well, I never forget a face. So I don't think so. Though…” He smirked. “I am pretty popular. In Lugunica, at least.”

There was a pause. Then sudden realization sparked behind the merchant’s eyes.

“Wait a second… Satoru Gojo?! The only man ever chosen by the dragon—what in the world are you doing way out here?!”

Gojo just laughed. “Ahh… that’s a bit of a long story.”

The merchant clapped his hands together, rubbing them in a gesture somewhere between gratitude and business instinct.

“I’m Otto Suwen! Merchant, courier, problem-solver—and if you're in need of a lift, weeell, I’d be honored to assist! You know, for a small shoutout to your sponsors or royal friends~”

Gojo raised an eyebrow.

He was about to politely decline—after all, he could travel just fine on foot—but… he had started slowing down. Taking breaks sucked. And sitting down for a bit didn’t sound too bad.

“…Sure. Why not.”

He climbed up into the back of the wagon and settled in, resting one arm across the wooden railing. Then he wagged a finger with a grin.

“I'll even make sure you get the full travel story on our way. Drama, tension, personal struggle, mystery…!”

Otto’s eyes sparkled, a bit of drool down his mouth for some reason. “Deal!”

The wagon rumbled forward, creaking gently as it began rolling down the path. The wind was calm, and Gojo leaned back, ready to tell the story of exactly why someone like him was out here in the middle of nowhere.

Otto gripped the reins, his gaze flicking occasionally to the road ahead as the ground dragon plodded steadily along the winding trail. The faint crunch of gravel beneath the wheels broke the nighttime stillness, and after a moment, he peered over his shoulder toward the man slouched in the back of the wagon—white-haired, blindfolded, and far too casual for someone in such dangerous company.

“So, uh… where exactly are you trying to go?”

Gojo blinked, lifting his head lazily from his shoulder.
“Ah, right… little place called the Augria Sand Dunes. Ring any bells?”

Otto stared for a beat—then furrowed his brow hard.
“…What? What the hell? Why would anyone want to go there!?”

He whipped around fully, half standing in his seat.
“Am I playing some part in a deeply ill-advised suicide attempt?! Surely I'd get executed for this, you're a candidate for the throne!”

Gojo waved a hand dismissively.
“Pleaaase. I’ll be fine. I’m going there for good reason—and hey, I’ll make sure your, uh, ‘company’ gets a solid mention when I’m back. Exposure and all that stuff.”

Otto’s nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply, grip tightening on the reins while his inner merchant clashed with his survival instincts.

“…Very well then. Let us go!”

With a flick of the reins, the ground dragon picked up speed, and the wagon surged forward under the pale light of the moon, fleeing deeper into the night.

---

Gojo snapped awake as the wagon jostled over a bump—his head lolling before snapping upright. He groaned and wiped a streak of drool from the side of his mouth, brushing it on his sleeve as he leaned forward against the wooden side railing.

“Oi, Otto…”

“Yes, Satoru?” the merchant answered quickly, not taking his eyes off the path.

“How much longer until we’re there?”

There was a brief pause as Otto seemed to mentally calculate.
“Just a few more hours before we reach the desert’s edge. I can take you as far as Mirula. Any further than that and… well, I’d rather not be mabeast food, if it’s all the same to you.”

Gojo tilted his head.
“Mirula? Didn’t see it on the map I had.”

Otto nodded.
“I imagine your map only marked cities or major landmarks. Mirula’s barely even a place of interes at this point. Closer to a ghost town, really. It's fairly large all things considering… but almost completely desolated, perhaps there'll be the one or two merchants stupid enough to pass through—and the smell of death in the air if the wind blows wrong.”

Gojo frowned.
“Why’s it deserted? Can’t just be sand in their shoes, right?”

Otto let out a dry laugh.
“Ha! No, not quite. The town’s right on the edge of the Pleiades Watchtower region—makes it well.. the most miasma-saturated place in all of Lugnica. The Witch’s stench is thicker there than anywhere else!”

He paused, voice dipping lower.

“It’s bad enough that it’s twisted the land, corrupted the wildlife. The mabeasts around there… don’t behave like they should from what I've heard. Some have mutated entirely. Others are far more threatening than any you'll find out here. More… wrong.”

Gojo scratched the side of his head with a sigh.
“Great. So, a desert full of monsters, miasma, and probably my luck, I'll find another run-in with the Witch's Cult, Sounds like my kind of vacation.”

Otto offered a weak, nervous chuckle in response, mainly hoping that Gojo was just joking while his gaze remained locked ahead.
“I’m sure someone in Mirula can explain it better than I can. Assuming they’re still sane at least..”

Gojo just leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head.
“Alright. Wake me when we’re there!”

The wagon continued under the star-streaked sky, a lonely creak accompanying the soft footfalls of the dragon as it carried two unlikely travelers toward a place few dared to tread.

---

The golden hue of morning barely breached the endless horizon of the Augria Sand Dunes, yet the heat had already begun to rise—thick, dry air swirling with the faintest taste of ash and iron.

Gojo squinted beneath the shifting light, eyes narrowing despite the blindfold. The grainy wind tugged at his jacket, carrying with it a strange pressure. Not quite cursed energy… but something close. Off. Wrong.

From atop the wagon, he gazed out ahead as Otto gripped the reins, sweat already soaking through the back of his shirt.

“There it is…” Otto muttered, voice low as if afraid the wind itself might listen.

Gojo leaned forward.

In the distance—half-buried in sand and nearly camouflaged by the pale light—stood the remnants of a town, some crumbling buildings slouched at odd angles, others even collapsed in on themselves like hollowed shells. Blackened wood, weatherworn stone, and tattered cloth signs hung limp from rusted hooks.

No guards. No movement. Not even birds overhead.

“Welcome to Mirula…” Otto said with a sardonic chuckle, pulling the dragon to a slow stop just outside the perimeter.

The town was surrounded by nothing but wind-swept dunes, with small patches of corrupted vegetation poking out from between cracked stone paths. Twisted foliage, their bark dry and gray, creaked faintly as if groaning in pain.

Gojo stepped off the wagon, his boots pressing into the sand with a muffled crunch. Immediately, he noticed it.

The miasma.

It clung to the air like smog, heavy and invisible, but unmistakable to someone sensitive to energy like him. It wasn’t just stagnant—it moved, like a living thing drifting between alleyways and broken doorframes.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Definitely not your average pit stop to say the least…”

Otto remained on the wagon, tugging his scarf up over his nose.
“This is where I leave you, Satoru! If I stay here too long, I’ll probably start hearing things…”

Gojo chuckled, taking a few steps forward.
“Thanks for the ride. If I don’t make it back… tell everyone I died doing something cooler than this!”

Otto snorted.
“You better survive though. If I don't get a bump in sales after chauffeuring Satoru Gojo, I'm filing a formal complaint!”

With a faint wave, Otto turned the wagon around, the dragon reluctantly trudging back the way they’d come.

Gojo, now alone, rolled his neck and looked ahead. A dry wind swept through the crooked street, rattling a broken sign above a building that once may have been a tavern. The whole town felt paused—like it was waiting for something to stir it awake.

And from the way the air trembled faintly with cursed vibrations, Gojo figured it wouldn’t be long.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded map and looking toward the east.

The Pleiades Watchtower wasn’t far now... if that's even where Subaru is.

He took a deep breath, muttering under it.

“…Let’s see what kind of nightmare Subaru’s wandered into shall we?”

Then, with steady steps and the desert sun rising higher behind him, Satoru Gojo entered Mirula.

He could feel eyes on him—those few lingering souls scattered along the street, wrapped in tattered cloths, their gazes heavy with envy. One man, gaunt and ragged, began to stagger forward, clutching something that looked like a weapon.

Though calling it a weapon was generous—it was just a jagged piece of sharpened animal bone.

The man was painfully thin, draped in a grimy grey cloth that fluttered as he stumbled toward Gojo.

“Food… hungry…” The man’s eyes locked onto Satoru Gojo, who was clearly well-off, narrowing with desperation. Then, summoning what little strength he had left, he ran forward as fast as his exhausted body could manage in a blind state of starvation.

“Money—hunger, food!!” he cried, slashing down with the bone dagger, trying to cut Gojo.

But Infinity stopped the blow effortlessly.

Gojo caught the man’s neck with a sharp snap of his hand, rendering him unconscious, then gently lowered the fragile body to the ground and continued on.

Yeah… this was a pitiful sight, no doubt.

Then something shifted in the air—the wind, the sand… the storm. It was different. Wrong. Almost as if simply standing in it could put even Gojo in danger.

His head snapped to the side. The streets had emptied even more, save for the unconscious man he’d left behind. The sudden clatter of doors and windows slamming shut echoed around him.

Gojo’s brow furrowed, and in a blink, he pivoted, moving like a shadow to scoop the man up. He dragged him inside a nearby building, slamming the door just as the storm’s howl rose outside—a siren wailing in the wind.

He set the man down on a worn wooden bench and took in his surroundings.

A bar… a tavern? Well, if Regulus was anywhere nearby, Gojo figured he’d soon be launched through a wall again.

“Heeey!” Gojo called out, fixing his narrowed gaze on a grey-haired man standing on the other side of the table. He took a seat, raising a hand, and soon a small mug of warm, aged milk was slid in front of him.

Gojo blinked and took a tentative sip.

Even the milk Rom gave me was better than this crap!

“Ergh… so… old man, can you tell me a little about whatever the hell’s going on outside?”

The shopkeeper clicked his tongue.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, young man… At least if you’ve come all this way without knowing what’s going on out there…”

Gojo just smiled.

The shopkeeper sighed.

“It’s the Sand Wind..” the shopkeeper said, voice low and tired, “a storm that can last for days. When it hits, it’s not just the sand and wind that wear you down—it’s something else. Something... unnatural.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow.

The shopkeeper leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “They call it Sand Time. It’s like time itself bends inside the storm. Minutes can stretch into hours, or hours can flash by in an instant. People caught out there say they lose track of time completely. Some come back feeling older, or younger… or worse, never come back at all.”

He glanced nervously at the door as the wind rattled the shutters.

“Sand Time doesn’t just mess with clocks—it messes with your body, your mind. You might walk a hundred steps and find yourself miles away, or barely move but have hours pass. It’s disorienting, draining… and deadly.”

The old man sighed again. “Most sane folks just lock themselves inside, pray for it to pass. But some say the Witch’s influence twists the storm, makes it even more dangerous. If you’re caught in Sand Time, well… you might find you’re trapped in a nightmare where the rules of reality no longer apply.”

Gojo nodded slowly, eyes narrowing.
"And I don't suppose a boy… well—he's older than me but acts younger, looks younger, and is far less handsome…"

The shopkeeper deadpanned.
"Black hair and black eyes, you say? Come through here in the last few days?"

They shook their head.
"We get few enough folk in this forsaken place as it is. I'd remember someone with that complexion, that’s for sure. And I can say I don't."

Gojo exhaled sharply, lifted the mug, downed the milk in one go, then wiped his mouth.
"Ergh... thanks—for the milk."

He rose and approached the door, the storm’s howl loud beyond the threshold.

"O-oi, kid—you don’t wanna go out there. I’m tellin’ ya… it’s suicide!"

The shopkeeper’s urgency was clear, but Gojo was unfazed. With a grin, he flung the door wide open and stepped into the swirling haze.

Hands still in his pockets, Gojo strode forward, utterly unaffected by the sandstorm. His eyes narrowed beneath the grit.

Can’t see squat... but if this is it... it’s a bit anticlimactic.
I mean… it’s just a sandstorm.

He strode forward, Infinity humming softly, a faint shimmer cloaking him like a fragile veil against the storm. Then—without warning—a sudden, unnatural ripple tore through the very fabric of the world around him.

Gojo’s senses screamed. Something indescribable—alien—seized the air itself, twisting it into a dark pulse of dread. His eyes snapped open wide, pupils dilating in shock.

“What—?!”

CRACK—!!

The earth beneath him shattered violently, as if reality itself was fracturing. The dunes convulsed, torn apart by an invisible force, jagged shards of sand and stone exploding outward. The ground cracked open in a massive, gaping maw.

Gojo stumbled back, eyes blazing with disbelief and caution.
“A distortion in space—?!”

Before him, an abyss yawned—a churning black vortex, swallowing light and sound. Time warped, dragging seconds into an agonizing crawl while gravity twisted and snapped like a broken thread.

Infinity flickered—and then vanished.

“Urrkk—!?”

Without warning, he was ripped forward, sucked into the void like a stone tossed down a cosmic drain. The world spun out of control as he was hurled through a corridor of darkness and chaos, tumbling endlessly through the infinite unknown.

When he snapped upright, the world was shrouded in shadow.

Next to him lay a strange sight he wasn't expecting to see so soon.

“…Subaru…?”

Unconscious, but Gojo barely had time to process that.

What the hell just happened?

And where the hell are we?

Notes:

A fairly long time since the last chapter, but I did somewhat drain myself with the 20+ odd chapter streak I somehow managed.

I'm going to be actually changing that now on to ensure I don't feel like this again, a chapter will come every 2-3 days, Thursdays to Fridays there will never be chapters out then though as that's when I'm most busiest.

Chapter 32: The Keeper of the Tower

Tap–Tap–Tap-

Gojo lazily poked Subaru’s cheek, sitting cross-legged with one elbow propped on his knee, chin resting in his palm. His fingers moved with the absentminded rhythm of someone desperately fighting off sleep.

The space around them was cloaked in darkness—timeless, still, and suffocating in its silence. He had no idea how long they’d been here.

All he knew was that he was incredibly bored.

And Subaru was still out cold.

With a sigh, Gojo retracted his hand and tilted his head, staring blankly at the boy’s sleeping face.

If I had to guess… based on what that shopkeeper said, maybe Infinity screwed with that ‘Sand Time’ phenomenon. Warping space, distorting time... I mean, it did feel like the world snapped in half.

Or maybe that was just crazy old-man superstition.

“Subaruuu... get up...” he muttered flatly, dragging out the name in a deadpan whine.

Still no response.

Gojo raised his hand again, this time aiming slightly higher.

“Hey, wake up—wanna forehead flick?”

That did it, funnily enough.

Subaru jolted upright with a sharp, panicked gasp, eyes flying open as if waking from a nightmare still clawing at his mind. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he looked around wildly—until his gaze locked onto Gojo.

And froze.

Gojo blinked.

Subaru’s hands clenched the ground like a lifeline, knuckles whitening, fingernails scraping against the dirt. There was fear in his eyes—raw, trembling, real—and it took him several seconds to stammer out a breath.

“I—I’m...?”

Gojo tilted his head further.
“You’re awake. That’s what.”

“G-Gojo...? Y-You...”

Gojo opened his mouth to say something—something smug, probably—but stopped.

The look on Subaru’s face confused him.

No. It unnerved him.

Subaru looked… terrified. Not startled. Not shaken. Terrified.

The boy shivered violently, trying to calm himself, but his body betrayed him. He gagged suddenly and cupped his hand over his mouth, suppressing the urge to vomit.

“Hey—hey, dude?” Gojo stood and moved toward him quickly, reaching out to steady him by the shoulder.

“DON’T—urk... touch me, right now!”

Subaru’s voice cracked with desperation, his face buried toward the ground, one arm shielding his head like he expected a blow.

Gojo froze mid-step, hand still outstretched.

“…Right. Sure.” He slowly retracted his hand and backed away, several steps, until he was standing still, watching in silence.

What the hell was that...?

Gojo’s mind spun. He knew Subaru. Knew the guy didn’t spook easily—not like this. Waking up disoriented didn’t explain that. And with his Six Eyes, even suppressed behind the blindfold, he could see it all—the micro-tensions in Subaru’s muscles, the shallow breaths, the way his entire posture screamed fear.

Gojo didn’t need to be a mind reader.

He knew that look.

Subaru wasn’t just scared.

Subaru was terrified of him.

Gojo let the silence stretch.
Then, with a breath, he moved—crouching beside Subaru and giving him a firm, steady pat on the back.

“…Sooo—”

“No—ugh, I’m… I’m fine…” Subaru cut him off, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand. His voice wavered, like he was forcing stability into his throat.

“Just a… a dream. It wasn’t real…” he added, more to himself than anyone.

Gojo didn’t respond right away, simply watching as Subaru slowly stood and exhaled.

“You sure?” he asked, stepping back just enough to give him space.

Subaru nodded, albeit too quickly.

“I’m a little confused how I got here—wherever here is—but I guess there’ve been weirder days..” Gojo muttered, placing his hands on his hips and turning his attention to the surroundings. “Still… this place has serious haunted-house energy.”

He wanted to say more—wanted to press—but something about Subaru’s posture stopped him.

Subaru didn’t answer, instead walking forward without hesitation, as if drawn by instinct. Gojo blinked, then followed. The darkness thickened around them, oppressive and unnatural.

They walked in silence.

“Subaru…” Gojo started, keeping his tone gentle, “are you—?”

“I’m just a bit paranoid…” Subaru interrupted. “Can’t really explain, though.”

They stopped.

A fork in the path.

Gojo sniffed the air and made a face.
“Ugh… that’s either a really bad barbecue on the left, or something’s very dead. Straight ahead just smells like a crap-ton of the witch's miasma.”

Subaru’s breath caught for just a second. Even knowing Gojo would never truly harm him… the memory still twisted inside his chest.

“We’ll go left.” he muttered.

Gojo nodded, and they did.

“Soo Subaru…” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “You have any idea at all where we are? Because I for one actually don't have a clue.”

“I don’t have a definite answer.” Subaru replied quietly. “But if I had to guess… probably the Watchtower? Or maybe just under the desert.”

Gojo groaned, scratching the side of his head. “Of course it would be.”

He tried teleporting again—no dice. Whatever this space was, it cut off his usual toolkit.

He sighed, his voice turning more serious.
“…Also, I’m pretty sure what I’m smelling isn’t roast beef but burning flesh if that wasn't obvious, which is way more unpleasant! Be ready for anything.”

He raised a hand, halting as they reached the end of the passage.

“It’s especially gross this way. You smell it too, right?”

Subaru gave a short nod.
“Yeah.”

They stepped into a vast, cave-like chamber glowing with blistering red light. The incline ahead was steep, but both slid down it with practiced ease.

When they landed—

Gojo immediately grimaced.
“Well, isn’t this just appetizing…”

All around them were the scorched remains of beasts—charred, blackened carcasses strewn across the stone. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Wisps of flame danced in the air like wandering souls.

Gojo’s hand shot to Subaru’s shoulder.

Even if unnecessary, he wasn’t taking chances. With Infinity active, he could keep the heat at bay for both of them—but the longer they stayed, the worse it’d get.

Then the roar hit.

No—a screech, shrill and piercing, like steel screaming against steel. It echoed off the cavern walls, digging into their skulls.

Subaru’s eyes went wide.

Even Gojo’s narrowed in alert.

Then they saw it.

A towering monstrosity burst from the shadows—its lower half like a massive horse, while its upper body was humanoid… vaguely. No head. Just a neck ending in a jagged, singular horn. And where a chest should be, a wide, gaping maw lined with grotesque, razor-sharp teeth, twitching with unnatural hunger.

Gojo blinked, brows slanted in disgust.

“…What the hell is that?”

“A monster…” Subaru said under his breath.

Gojo raised a hand. “Mmm… Nickname? Let’s call it a Centaur!”

Subaru’s expression didn’t shift. He simply stepped back, even with Infinity protecting him thanks to Gojo's hold on his shoulder.

“Gojo…” he said quietly, “Can you… let me fight this one?”

Gojo’s lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at Subaru, then at the beast. His Six Eyes flickered beneath the blindfold.

“…Fine.” he said at last. “But if you’re about to die, I’m jumping in.”

Subaru nodded, already stepping forward.

---

Subaru POV

Gojo retreated, leaping back up the incline to gain elevation. Subaru clenched his fists tight, breathing deep.

I’m not here to be protected. I’m here to prove I’m more than just baggage!

The cursed energy flowed through him like a stream, and while his reinforcement could only last a minute in this heat, he could sustain it. Over and over.

He had a nearly infinite well to draw from. That was his blessing—and his burden.

He stepped forward.

It doesn’t have eyes… so maybe it’s like a mole?

Sound, then. It had to rely on sound.

He crouched, grabbed one of the charred limbs scattered around, and hurled it toward the far wall with all the strength he could muster.

The dismembered limb struck with a heavy thud.

The Centaur shrieked, its entire form twisting violently as it galloped straight toward the sound. It slammed into the wall like a cannon, sand erupting in every direction. Then it thrashed, screeching, smashing the broken limb again and again.

Flames erupted from its body, incinerating the remains in seconds.

It didn’t stop until the limb was nothing but bubbling, blackened paste.

Then, satisfied, it turned away.

Subaru didn’t move. He just watched.

One breath. Two. Then three.

Okay, I have its attention span figured out.

Now I just need to figure out how to kill it.

He repeated the process—another scorched limb hurled toward the wall. The thud echoed, the Centaur twisted, shrieked, and pounced like before, flattening the distraction into cinders.

But this time—Subaru moved.

He launched forward, body tearing through the heat-warped air, fist cocked beside his head. In an instant—

CRACK!

His blow connected, slamming into the beast’s ashen ribcage. The impact was brutal—bone buckled and caved with an audible crunch.

Subaru landed in a hard slide, grit kicking up beneath his feet. His cursed energy reinforcement flared wildly around his body, seconds from flickering out from the oppressive heat before enveloping his body once again. The Centaur wheeled around, its screech deafening, homing in on the thud of Subaru’s landing.

Without hesitation, it reached into its flaming mane and tore out a seething chunk of fire—hurling it forward like a meteor.

The air screamed with heat.

Subaru’s instincts roared louder. He bent his knees, threw his weight sideways, and skidded across the ground just as the fireball exploded behind him, molten air licking at his heels.

He glanced up—eyes narrowing.

“…Regeneration?!”

The cratered dent he’d just made was already smoothing over, tendons snapping into place, bone reknitting. Faster than Gojo’s—unnaturally fast.

Another fireball blazed toward him—bigger, hotter.

Subaru leapt skyward, the blast grazing beneath his feet as he twisted midair, raising his hand high.

“No time to hold back then…”

Black energy flooded through his veins like acid and lightning. His entire arm turned pitch black, muscles writhing with cursed power. In his grip, a spear of pure, concentrated darkness formed—

With a sharp breath, he hurled it down with everything he had.

The Centaur reached up again, preparing another fireball—
—but the spear punched through the gaping maw in its chest before it could react. Its jagged teeth clamped down too late, snapping over the shaft with a crack and swallowing it.

Subaru suddenly clenched his raised fist.
“Now, BURST!”

The spear detonated inside the beast.

Black spikes exploded outward from within, impaling the Centaur’s entire torso—ripping through its sides, limbs, and spine. Shadow burst from its back and ribs like an eruption of thorns.

The monster wailed in agony, swiping at itself in blind panic—clawing at the spears that tore through its body.

Then, like a candle relit—it healed.

Everything.

Gone in a flash.

Subaru clicked his tongue.“Tsck-!”

The beast turned. It heard that.

It reared up with a roar, then swept its hand once more into its blazing mane. But this time, the fire condensed into a spear—longer than the last. Blazing. Deadlier.

Subaru was already sprinting in.

Low stance. Controlled breathing. Feet gliding across the floor. The Centaur thrust its fiery weapon toward him—again, and again—each strike like a comet’s tail ripping through the cavern.

Subaru weaved around the attacks, slipping between arcs of flame with narrow, reckless precision. He ducked low, stone and ash scraping against his skin, then slid beneath the Centaur’s entire bulk, sliding toward its flank.

Almost there—!

WHAM-!

The Centaur’s hind legs lashed out as he emerged from beneath it, faster than he'd ever expected.

They crashed into Subaru’s side like twin hammers, launching him backward like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard—bounced once, twice, three times—before flipping mid-roll and slamming down in a crouch, breathing ragged.

Pain exploded through his ribs. Something was cracked, maybe broken.

But he didn’t stop.

More like he couldn't.

The Centaur hurled the fiery spear like a javelin. Subaru twisted, the heat grazing his ribs as the spear slammed into the wall behind him with a thunderous boom, molten rock spraying out from the impact.

Subaru gritted his teeth.

In a battle of attrition—even with near-limitless cursed energy—he’d lose. The Centaur’s regeneration was monstrous. Unless there was a limit to it, which… didn't seem likely.

Then I have to break it faster than it can fix itself.

He charged.

Cursed energy surged through his arm as he formed an ebony longsword, darkness writhing across the blade like smoke under pressure.

The Centaur responded. Fire gathered in its hand, swelling outward before shaping itself into a colossal great axe, then brought it crashing down as Subaru approached—

BOOOOOOM-!

The cave shook violently. Rock shattered from the ceiling. Dust filled the air.

But the beast recoiled in pain—deep gashes suddenly carved into its arm that gripped the great axe.

Subaru had already moved, slipping past the weapon in a flicker and dragging his blade across the Centaur’s flesh. Fire exploded in retaliation, a living detonation radiating out from its body.

Subaru stomped down—twisting.

A wall of pure shadow burst up around him, absorbing the wave of flame in a spiraling torrent.

But it came at a cost.

“Urgh…!!”

Blood spewed from his mouth, crimson streaking down his chin. His Authority was strained—but he wasn’t done. Not yet.

He roared and charged again.

Cursed Energy burned through his limbs as he gripped the longsword in both hands and met the Centaur’s axe in a monumental clash.

CRACK—!!

The ground split beneath him—craters spider-webbing out in every direction.

For a second, their strengths were equal.

Then came the Authority of Pride.

A new surge flooded Subaru's body—his blade erupted with visible arcs of darkness, spiraling upward and branching like veins through the air. With a savage yell, he brought the sword across—splitting the axe in half, along with part of the beast’s massive arm.

The Centaur shrieked and recoiled, but wasted no time. In its hand, fire condensed once more—forming into a massive blazing sword longer than its own body.

But Subaru was already moving—slipping past the vertical swing that crashed into the stone floor like a meteor—and drove his black blade into the beast’s throat.

He twisted his grip on the hilt.

Then yanked downward.

The sword tore through the Centaur’s neck, cleaving downward until it lodged in the toothed mouth embedded in its chest.

The teeth snapped at his weapon, but—

“HYAAAAGH—!!”
Subaru roared with all of his might, before suddenly, a massive black spike exploded up from the earth—impaling the Centaur from below. It roared in agony, lifted multiple meters off the ground, legs flailing, voice a high-pitched, piercing screech that echoed across the walls.

Subaru brought his hands together.

Darkness burst forth a heartbeat later—thousands of spikes lancing through every inch of the monster’s body, turning it into a grotesque pincushion.

Subaru staggered, legs quivering beneath him like scaffolding in a heavy storm.

Then, with the last of his strength drained, he dropped to one knee and violently vomited blood onto the stone floor, the sound wet and raw, echoing off the smoldering cavern walls.

Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, nerves flaring with relentless pain—an all-consuming throb that seared through his skull like hot needles burrowing deeper and deeper.

His vision flickered.

But still—he forced himself to keep his eyes open, to lift his head.

He needed to see it.

He needed to know that the fight hadn’t been for nothing.

That the monster was dead.

That it was over.

But just as the smoke cleared and the final remnants of shadow peeled back into the void, his heart dropped.

Because standing in the haze, still very much alive—

Was the Centaur.

Whole. Roaring. Unbroken.

Its body pulsed with fire, grotesquely perfect, as if the thousands of attacks it had sustained were nothing more than illusions. Flame surged along its limbs, flesh knitting together in an instant, and with a renewed scream of fury, it raised its massive, burning sword high above its head for a final, killing blow.

Subaru tried to move, to lift his arm, to crawl—anything. But his limbs wouldn’t answer. His strength had left him completely, his body a hollow vessel, heavy with pain and ash and defeat.

And yet... he didn’t need to move.

Because the blade never landed.

A hand—familiar in its calm strength, steady in a way that felt like gravity itself had returned—clasped his shoulder with a grounding grip.

Gojo.

“You did good, Subaru!” Gojo said lightly, his voice calm but tinged with pride as his gaze shifted toward the blazing behemoth, “Just had a bit of an annoying opponent this time around. Even I can admit that.”

He stepped forward, posture loose, confident as ever, lips drawn into a tight line, his arm rising in a gesture that should have soon meant obliteration for the creature.

But then he stopped mid-motion.

His brows drew together. His head turned sharply, as though responding to a frequency only he could hear—eyes narrowing beneath the white bandages concealing them.

And in the next moment—

A blinding white light tore through the cavern like a sword from the gods, splitting the Centaur clean in half from its waist in a single instant. Its screech of pain came immediately, visceral and enraged, as its body desperately began to reform, limbs and muscle reconnecting with unnatural speed—

But the onslaught had only just begun.

BOOM—! BOOM—! BOOM—!

Each explosion of light that followed struck with terrifying precision and rhythm, lances of radiant destruction raining down from all angles like divine artillery. They came faster than the eye could follow, faster than the creature could regenerate, and with each successive blast, more of it was ripped away.

An arm—gone.

A leg—obliterated.

Its chest—eviscerated, again and again.

It tried to retaliate—screaming, convulsing, hurling bursts of incandescent fire in every direction in one final act of rage.

But the light was simply faster. Far faster.

Every flare of fire was erased the moment it was born—swallowed by piercing beams of annihilation that cut through heat and stone and sound alike.

Again.

And again. And again. And again. And again.

So many beams that time itself seemed to tremble with each impact.

The cavern became an infernal storm of flickering flame and blinding radiance, of fire met with light, of chaos devoured by overwhelming force—

Until finally.

It ended.

The beams stopped falling. The echoes faded.

There was nothing left of the monster.

Not even a wisp of ash.

Not even a shadow where it had stood.

The Centaur—just moments before had been an unstoppable, regenerating nightmare—had been utterly erased from existence, not a single particle remaining in its place, merely a crater.

“...H-huh… urghk…”

Subaru staggered. Blood spilled from his lips again as he fought to stay conscious.

Then he saw her.

From the edge of his vision, through the clearing smoke and dancing light, a figure emerged.

A woman.

Tight black short-shorts barely concealed anything, and an orange-and-black cloak fluttered dramatically behind her. Her brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, swaying with each step.

Her smile was wide. Too wide.

She walked forward, boots crunching over scorched stone.

“I found you.”

Subaru blinked, struggling to focus.

Then, darkness.

He collapsed.

---

Somewhere? Anywhere? Nowhere?

Soon enough, consciousness returned.

But not in any form Subaru had ever known—at least, not in a way that should have felt real.

There was no pain. No sensation. No heartbeat. No breath.
Only an endless black void.

He floated—if floating could even describe it—in a void that seemed to stretch forever in all directions. Not a room. Not a dream. Not even a space. Just absence. Emptiness so complete that it pressed in from all sides like water in the deepest trench, devoid of sound, color, or reason.

And yet...

The darkness wasn’t whole.
All across the infinite plane were fractures—cracks in the void itself, like spiderweb fissures running through glass. Thin veins of silvery-white light split the skyless realm in a thousand directions, glowing faintly, humming like distant stars trying to push their way into a world they were never meant to see.

Subaru couldn’t feel his body.

No arms. No legs. No breath. No heartbeat.
Just thought.
Awareness without presence.

He tried to move. To speak. To blink.
Nothing.

It was disorienting. It was wrong.

But worst of all—was the feeling.

He couldn’t describe it properly, but it surged through every non-existent fiber of his being—an overwhelming sensation that crawled over his skinless self like silk... thick, gentle, horrifyingly intimate. It was LOVE.

Or... at least something like it. A deep, cloying love that felt undeserved, alien—and all-consuming.

Then came the voice.

“Ahhhhhh~! Welcome, welcome, welcome! The one of dissonance finally arrives in his very own scape-of-the-mind! Though clearly not in high... SPIRITS, wouldn’t you say?!”

It came from everywhere and nowhere. From behind him. Above him. Inside him.

Betelgeuse Romanée-Conti.

Subaru would have shivered—had he a body to do so.

That voice. That slurred, theatrical cadence. That mixture of devotion and madness.
He could never forget it.

Rem. The villagers. The pain. The terror.

Why was he here?
He should be dead. He should be GONE.

“Nrrhhhh... such questions~ how diligent, truly—” Betelgeuse cooed again, the word unraveling across the infinite space with no end. “Yes—yes! Of course that is diligence! For what else would it be but that, my dear, my BLESSED boy...?!”

But then the voice changed. Shifted—subtly. Quieter. Anxious.
“Yet... it seems that he is not here... slothful... yes, yes, most slothful... He gave us a regimen—a holy pattern to follow which involved eternal torment! And yet... he does not appear... this hasn't happened before, he has been gone for... many days... many days perhaps?”

Subaru felt the pull of something—a compulsion without command.

And so, without moving, his perspective tilted upward toward the sky above.

The blackness cracked open wider.

More fractures appeared across the void—like something above was pressing in from another side, trying to break through. Whatever held this place together was failing. The seams of reality were tearing apart.

“Now I understand~ But of course. YES. YES–YES–YES!!”

The voice rose to a fever pitch, bouncing and echoing like it was thrilled to come apart.

“You... you, Natsuki Subaru...”

Betelgeuse’s tone dropped, slow and deliberate now—softer, almost reverent.

“You are not whole, are you...?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an answer.

And Subaru felt it—like a dagger of truth buried in the space where his chest should have been. He wasn't whole. Something fundamental was missing, broken—torn free from the inside out.

Rage surged in him then, irrational and blazing.

He couldn’t see Betelgeuse’s face, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t strangle the grotesque Archbishop for what he’d done—but the sound of that voice alone made his formless mind itch, as if it were being scratched raw with a fork dragged across chalkboard.

Was he talking about Pride? About the version of himself that had vanished?

Was he mocking him?

Subaru tried to speak. Tried to scream.

Nothing.

No voice. No lungs. No body.

Just silence.

Until something changed.

The air didn’t thicken—but it did grow heavier. Not like danger, but like pressure.
Like a presence had entered this place that was meant to be empty.

She appeared.

A silhouette. A shadow darker than the void itself—impossibly black. Walking where there was no ground. Moving through a space that had no dimensions. Cloaked in an absence so profound it blotted out even the light from the cracks above.

He knew that form.
He knew those steps.
He knew her.

The Witch.

Sometimes she had killed him.
Sometimes she had killed the people he loved.
Sometimes she had done both.

But why—why couldn’t he bring himself to hate her, or even just loathe her?

Why, even now, with every reason in the world to fear her, did his chest fill with that familiar, terrible, beautiful warmth?

Her presence wasn’t just oppressive—it was close. Closer than it had ever been.

She stepped forward, arms slowly rising from beneath the folds of her cloak.

In one hand, she held a sphere—a softly pulsing orb of violet light, dim and warm, like a heartbeat pressed into crystal.

She said nothing.

Simply approached.

And pressed her palm—still holding the orb—gently against where his chest would have been.

The moment it touched, the light melted into him, disappearing beneath the skin he didn’t have.
He felt it lodge deep inside him—a strange sensation.

Then, at last, she spoke.

Softly.
Quietly.
Tender.

“You may... tell him... if you.. wish..”

Subaru’s nonexistent eyes widened.

Her hands rose again—cupping his face.

Even here, where he was no more than spirit, he felt the pressure of her touch. Real. Warm.

“I love you.” she whispered.

Thus, Subaru made a vow. Why? He didn't know, it simply felt right.

I will save you...

Darkness engulfed his vision.

---

Once more, consciousness returned—rushing in like a tidal wave, as though Subaru had been pulled violently from the crushing depths of the ocean, only to breach the surface gasping for air. But this time, it felt... familiar. Human. His own.

“You’re finally awake, eh?”

A voice—sharp, casual, unmistakable.

Gojo.

“Ugh... where am I...?”
Subaru’s voice rasped out, his throat dry and every syllable heavier than it should’ve been. He forced the words through clenched teeth, mostly because the moment his senses settled, he realized something strange—everything around him had changed.

The darkness from before? Gone.

Instead, there was light. Warm, soft, steady. Sunlight streamed through a tall window, casting slow, golden rays across stone walls. The chill of sand beneath his body? Also gone—replaced by the unfamiliar, blessed softness of something he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity.

A pillow.

“Ahh... you are—”

“—In a bed...” Subaru muttered, finishing the sentence himself.

Gojo grinned, clearly pleased at the assist.
“Bingo. Not bad, considering how close you were to being dead.”

Subaru blinked blearily, trying to sit up.
“How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Gojo said casually, leaning back into the wooden chair he’d clearly been planted in for a while. “Two very, very boring days, I might add. You’re not exactly good company when you're unconscious.”

“Two days?!”

Subaru jerked upright, instinctively bolting into a seated position as the thin blanket draped over him slid to his waist. Despite the motion, he found the bed... weirdly comfortable. Like, obnoxiously so.

“Yup. You’ve got some serious explaining to do, by the way.” Gojo’s voice turned vaguely amused, like he was half-joking but still expecting something good. “What the hell was that black stuff back there? Because I know for a fact I didn’t teach you that. You sell your soul to a demon or something?”

Subaru sighed, dragging a hand across his face.
“Obviously not... It’s just a power I figured out I had a... few weeks ago, that should be right...”

Gojo raised a brow.
“You don’t really sound sure about that.”

“Because I’m not...” Subaru replied flatly. “Time’s been... weird lately. Honestly, I don’t even know how long I’ve been doing this anymore.”

Gojo simply shrugged, as if to say ‘fair enough,’ before stretching his arms lazily behind his head.
“Well, whatever. I was just about to leave you to your beauty sleep, but hey—the timing worked out!”

Subaru tilted his head slightly.
“I’m not even gonna ask what you mean by that. But... more seriously—where actually are we?”

That familiar, cocky smirk tugged at Gojo’s lips again as he stood, stretching with all the dramatic flair of someone who hadn’t spent the last two days babysitting a dying man. He looked down at Subaru, the cloth bandages covering his eyes catching the light.

“—The Pleiades Watchtower!” he said simply.

Subaru froze.

His breath hitched.

The name rang through his mind like a bell tolling over a battlefield.

He’d made it.

After everything—the deaths, the resets, the failures, the running—he’d finally reached the Watchtower. The place he’d been clawing toward for so long. The path that had always seemed just barely out of reach was now under his feet.

But despite that, he didn’t feel victorious.

Because the truth was... he hadn’t made it here alone.
He failed.
He lost.
And he would've died again if Gojo hadn’t stepped in when he did.

And that light, it was familiar to say the least.

Subaru’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“...That reminds me..” he said slowly, voice edged with curiosity—and shame. “That light. All that... insane light. I swear I saw someone—just before I blacked out. A person.”

He clenched his fists beneath the covers.

Gojo nodded, the grin fading slightly as his tone grew more thoughtful.
“Yeah. That’s what I meant earlier—by ‘great timing.’ She showed up right when things were turning real nasty, for you at least.”

“She?” Subaru echoed.

Gojo’s hand rested on the doorknob, but he paused before opening it, tilting his head slightly over his shoulder.

“Yeah. But anyway, it's a weird place, this tower. We’re stuck here, for now. Even I can’t leave. But she’s... something else. And for whatever reason...” He pulled the door open with a lazy motion, then stepped halfway out.

“That weird person reaaaaally wants to meet you...”

He turned, giving Subaru a wink that was somehow visible even behind the bandages.

“Get changed and come out whenever. Don’t keep her waiting too long, yeah?”

And with that, Gojo slipped through the doorway, letting it close softly behind him—leaving Subaru alone in the quiet, warm light of the room.

Alone... but awake.
Alive.

---

Subaru approached the long stone stairs of the tower, each step echoing into silence. His guard was up—Gojo was somewhere ahead, probably lounging or waiting with that usual smug confidence. But Subaru felt it in his gut.

Something was coming.

"—Um?!"

His instincts flared.

A suffocating pressure slammed down from above, sudden and crushing—so immense he couldn’t tell if it was spiritual, magical, or sheer physical force. A moment later, a violent shockwave ripped down the corridor like a bomb detonating. Dust, sand, and air exploded backward, forcing Subaru into a wide slide as he gritted his teeth and anchored himself to the ground.

From within the swirling cloud of smoke and shattered stone, a figure burst backward—Gojo, landing in a crouch beside him.

Subaru blinked. Gojo was… serious.

That was never a good sign.

"Gojo—!?" he shouted, instantly dropping into a combat stance. His fists were raised, breath tight in his lungs.

But Gojo didn’t answer immediately. His usual smirk was gone. In its place was a grimace… no, something close to revulsion.

Before Subaru could ask again, the smoke shifted. A silhouette emerged, walking slowly into view.

A woman.

Tall. Graceful. Unnervingly calm.

She stepped through the haze like it parted for her—long brown hair trailing behind her, eyes locked onto Subaru like he was prey and salvation both. Her gaze crawled over his entire body, scanning him top to bottom. Again. And again.

She didn’t speak.

Not until she bent her knees slightly, soles of her feet applying greater pressure against the ground.

Subaru’s heart jumped. His body tensed instinctively.
“W-Wait, hold on—!”

Then she moved.

A blur.

Subaru braced for impact—but Gojo, of all people, stepped back in retreat, giving Subaru a helpless shove forward as if offering him up to fate.

She didn’t strike.

Instead—

“Maaaasteeeer~!”

She tackled Subaru, throwing her entire weight into him like a human missile. He hit the ground with a solid whump, the breath knocked from his lungs. She landed atop him, arms wrapped around his torso like chains.

"Y-You—?! What—?!" Subaru choked, trying to squirm free.

“I waited sooo~ long! You said you'd come back! And then you didn't! So I had to keep shoooooting people forever and ever and—mmmn, you smell like burning again, master~”

She nuzzled into his chest shamelessly.

Subaru’s face turned beet red. He froze, flustered, confused—and borderline panicked.

"‘M-Master’?! Wha—Huh?!"

She pulled back just enough to beam down at him, still straddling his chest. “Yep yep~! Your cute apprentice Shaaaula~! You told me to guard the Watchtower! That means you’re my adorable, strong, mysteriously sexy master~!”

Subaru twitched. "Mysteriously sexy what—?! No, wait, that’s not the point!"

He shoved at her shoulders—nothing. She didn’t budge an inch. It was like pushing against reinforced steel. She just clung tighter.

"Huuuh~? Are you trying to escape from me~? What a naughty master… after all this time~!" Her voice dripped with teasing affection.

"I waited forever. For you. Even kept count! Nine hundred... thirty-seven people I had to vaporize. Pew-pew~!"

Subaru gaped. “Y-You what—?!”

She tilted her head innocently. “You told me to keep people away, remember~? So I did! Good apprentice, riiight~?”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I—!”

From several meters back, Gojo cleared his throat. Subaru’s head snapped toward him with desperate eyes.

“Gojoooo!! Help me out here, man! I’m being attacked!”

Gojo just raised both hands and backed up further. His expression was unreadable—but his eye twitched once beneath the blindfold.

“Yeah… no. That woman scares me. You’re on your own…”

Chapter 33: The Third Floor Trial (1)

Subaru sat stiffly in the chair, deadpan and visibly resigned, as Shaula clung to his side like a koala. No matter how many times he tried to pry her off, she refused to let go.

Across from them, Gojo sat in a wooden chair with his elbows on the table, thumbs twiddling, an expression of mild horror creasing his brow.

"Well, I was going to bring this up anyway..." Gojo began, his tone cutting through the awkward atmosphere. Subaru's eyes flicked toward him, temporarily giving up on detaching the overly affectionate woman latched onto him.

"Why were you even trying to get here in the first place?" Gojo asked, leaning forward slightly. "I mean, I got pulled in through some weird wormhole just like you did, but unlike you, I wasn’t actually trying to reach this place."

He shrugged, eyes still on Subaru.

"I figured if I sensed your presence here, I’d come find you. But ending up here like this? Just pure, dumb unluckiness."

"Unluuuuucky?!" Shaula gasped in disbelief, her head still resting on Subaru’s chest. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, y’know! I mean sure, I almost blew Master’s head off, but~! That didn’t happen, soooo... clearly, he’s here to conquer the tower, right?"

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes, hopeful.

Subaru exhaled slowly, slumping slightly in the chair.
"Err… something like that? Honestly, I only came here for personal reasons. I didn’t even know about the tower’s... weirdness."

Shaula giggled. "Bahaha~ Silly Master! Have you really forgotten that much in your old age?!"

Gojo sighed. "Okay, can you please explain what this whole ‘conquering the tower’ thing even means?"

Shaula’s grin faltered for a moment. Her gaze shifted to Subaru, expectant.

"What?" Subaru asked, brow raised.

"I’m waiting for permission~" She said in a singsong tone.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Permission granted then..."

With an excited hum, she turned back to Gojo, her smile wide but her voice a little more serious.

"The Pleiades Watchtower holds aaaall the knowledge of the world~ Anything you want to know, anything you shouldn’t know—Witch’s Cult, Witches, lost magic, history—it’s all here. Master told me ages ago to guard this place and keep eeeeeveryone out~”

Gojo leaned back in his seat, arms folded as he processed that. He didn’t even bother asking if they could leave—he already knew they couldn’t. Even someone like him, with the ability to bend space, felt the invisible pressure boxing them in. Whatever rules governed this place, they weren’t normal.

"Right.." he muttered. "So... what about the Centaur Witchbeast that nearly killed Subaru? Y’know, the one you vaporized?"

"Ahhh~ Those things!" Shaula said, kicking her feet up and leaning further into Subaru, still locked onto his arm. "Mhm, there are a ton of those things skulking around down there in the Sand Shrine, although they tend to stay down there... once in a while they'll come out, so I sometimes'll just go down and destroy them."

Her voice trailed off, then picked up again with a carefree shrug.
"But since that one helped me find Master, I made its demise just a bit quicker!"

Gojo blinked. A full minute of blinding, apocalyptic light didn’t exactly feel like 'quick.' 

"Ergh—dammit, you're gonna snap my arm!!" Subaru suddenly winced. "I’m reinforcing it with cursed energy and everything—what is your grip strength?! And seriously, why do you even call me Master?! I can’t look that much like whoever you're mistaking me for!"

Shaula just beamed. "People start to look the same after a few centuries, you know~? Males, females, whatever! But your smell is unmistakable~"

Subaru paused. "My... smell? Not this crap again..."

"Yup~! That absolutely foul scent that practically murders my nose...? Only Master would walk around smelling like that on purpose! I mean, I almost killed you at first, but that’s fiiiine! Master wouldn’t die from something that boring~!"

Gojo remained quiet. For all his usual flippancy, there was a rare note of sympathy in his eyes as he looked at Shaula. Centuries of isolation, stuck defending a tower, killing all who approached… it sounded less like a duty and more like a sentence.

Gojo sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"This place is weirder than anything I’ve seen—and that’s saying something. Anyway, back on track... you mentioned a 'trial'. I’m guessing there’s more than one before we can actually get out of here right?"

Subaru remained quiet, brows drawn low in thought.

If the Watchtower really housed all the world’s knowledge... then maybe, just maybe, there was something in there—some magic, some ritual—that could fix what was broken inside him. The damage Pride's absence left behind. The part of his soul that had been hollowed out. If he could restore that... maybe he’d stop bleeding from the eyes and brain every time he pushed the Authority of Pride too far.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking...

Shaula tilted her head against his shoulder, her voice sing-song.
"Riiight~ There are three trials you have to clear~"

Subaru leaned forward slightly. "Okay, wait... if we’re in the tower now, where were we before?"

Shaula beamed. "Okaaay~ that leads into the floor talk! So right now, we’re at the bottom floor: Asterope. Above us is the fifth floor: Celaeno. Then there's the fourth floor: Alcyone. Aaaand all the way at the tippy-top is the first floor: Maia!"

"Errr... so—" Subaru started.

"Lemme finish~" Shaula chirped with a smile. "Celaeno is where the big front door is. Asterope—where we are—is technically below ground, and it connects to that creepy dark place you two crawled out of. Lucky you didn’t wake up six feet under~!"

Gojo scratched his chin, absorbing the layout with a thoughtful frown.

Subaru blinked. "Then where did you nearly blow my head off?"

Shaula giggled. "Ahh, that’s my room~ Super messy, sorry. It’s where I hang out and watch for intruders. I just peek out the window and pew pew anyone who gets close~!"

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned first, fourth, and fifth floors... what about the others?"

"Oh! Right! The third floor’s Taygeta—that’s where the trial happens to prove you’re worthy to enter the library~!"

Subaru’s posture shifted. His voice dropped slightly. "So about that library… you said it’s got all the world’s knowledge. Is there anything in there that could help... fix someone?"

Gojo turned to him, confused. "Fix someone?"

Shaula tilted her head again, looking up at Subaru.
"Ehhh… I mean, I said that stuff about the library 'cause you told me to say it incase a situation like this happens, like, foreeeever ago~ I dunno what's actually in there! I just guard it!"

Subaru’s frown deepened.

Gojo leaned forward now. "Subaru. What’s wrong? You know I’m here for a reason."

Subaru looked away. "Yeah. That’s exactly the problem."

That silenced the room.

Gojo blinked. "Wait... what’s that supposed to mean?"

Subaru exhaled through his nose. "...Tsck. It’s nothing. Just... something I need to fix on my own."

Gojo crossed his arms. "Is this about why you went off to fight a Saint? Emilia told me you were gunning for one."

Subaru’s eyes flicked up. "...You know about the fight with Reinhard?"

"Wait—what?" Gojo sat upright, stunned.

A reaction like that was fair. After all, Reinhard van Astrea was about as close to a living god as you could get. Even Gojo—someone who bent space and could literally shrug off nukes—knew a fight against him wouldn’t end remotely in his favor. After all, someone like Reinhard could somehow just touch Gojo whenever he wants despite Infinity being up.

"You look... fine.." Gojo said, eyes scanning Subaru. "Other than the Centaur wreckage, you’re basically unscathed.. at least for someone who fought the Sword Saint... I mean, Reinhard is a nice guy so I guess that makes sense..."

"Sword Saint?" Shaula suddenly perked up. "You fought Reid and lived?!"

Both men blinked.

"Wait, who?" Subaru asked.
"You mean Reinhard, right?"

Shaula laughed after a moment of genuine surprise. "Pffft~ Who’s Reinhard? Reid’s my old buddy! Waaay back whenever, that guy was unkillable! He swung sticks around more than swords ‘cause he was just way too strong!"

Gojo blinked again, processing. "Ahhh...so Reid’s probably Reinhard’s ancestor or something I guess. I imagine he's been dead for centuries then."

Shaula’s grin dropped in an instant. "...Reid’s dead?"

Gojo nodded. "Unless someone killed him, but if he's even half the fighter you speak of then probably just old age. After all, he was human, right?"

Shaula went silent, eyes casting downward.
"...Yeah... he was, huh..."

For the first time, something genuine flashed across her face—melancholy. It passed in seconds, but it was there. Then, like flicking a switch, she perked up again.

Subaru coughed.
"Anyway... back to this err.. Library."

Shaula grinned, immediately springing to her feet.
"Uhuh—! Follow me~!"

The three began walking, with Subaru and Gojo trailing behind Shaula as she led the way, that ever-smug grin stretched across her face. Their destination:
The Great Library Pleiades.

They left the sixth floor and ascended a winding stairway that spiraled upward like a serpent coiled around the tower’s spine.

Subaru cast a nervous glance over the edge, his brows twitching. The fall wouldn’t kill him—not at this height—but it would hurt like hell, and the lack of railings made the climb all the more nerve-wracking.

"Ergh..." he groaned. "So let me get this straight—the third floor’s the first trial, second is the second, and the first is the final one? I’m guessing they get harder as we go up?"

Shaula nodded with a casual skip, ascending the stairs with ease. She’d probably made this trek thousand of times. Gojo, of course, wasn’t even remotely concerned either. Worst case, he could just float.

"Hmm..." Gojo said suddenly, glancing up toward her. "Shaula—what’s your master’s name, exactly?"

Shaula snorted.
"Pfff—he’s right behind you, idiot~! Aren’t you literally his companion?"

A vein twitched on Gojo’s hand for half a second before he exhaled through his nose.
"Can you please just indulge my ignorance? I’m curious."

Shaula tapped her chin, amused.
"Mmmm~ Well, if you’re asking, your memory might be even worse than mine! Bahaha~!"

"Regretting it already..." Gojo muttered.

"Alright, alright! His name’s Flugel! The Great Sage Flugel~"

Gojo tilted his head, the name tickling something in the back of his mind.
Flugel... Flugel... where have I—

His eyes narrowed.

"...Oh. That giant damn tree. Took a branch off it to impale that whale. Flugel’s Tree!"

Subaru blinked.
"Why would he even plant a tree that big in the first place I wonder?"

Gojo shrugged.
"Maybe he was big on climate change. Towering oxygen source, right? Not sure the ecosystem here even works that way."

Shaula tilted her head.
"...I don’t know what you’re talking about with a tree..."

Gojo sighed.
"Your master planted a skyscraper-sized tree and vanished from history. Sounds like a bit of a weirdo."

"Ehhh~ he’s right behind you, idiot!" she chimed again, cheerful as ever.

Gojo clenched his fists, but didn’t rise to it. He was tempted—but not that tempted. Instead, he chuckled and shifted gears.

"You’re clearly a ranged fighter. What was that white energy you blasted called?"

"Hmm? Oh! That was Hell’s Snipe!"

Subaru and Gojo both stopped walking.

There was a long pause.

"...Hell’s what?" Subaru asked.

Shaula blinked innocently.
"Hell’s Snipe~"

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

It was in English.

Gojo didn’t speak it fluently—he barely knew enough from back in the Jujutsu High days before he got sent here, only brushing up when missions dragged him to western countries. Subaru probably didn’t speak it much at all either, but by the looks of things he could tell too.

That left one unsettling implication.

"...Interesting." Gojo muttered.

If Shaula was calling out English spell names—and her master was this Flugel guy, who planted a legendary tree, vanished mysteriously, and now lived on only in lore—then...

Flugel might have been from Earth.

Just like them.

Only... a long, long time before them.

Unless, of course, time flowed very differently between worlds.

There was always the chance Shaula would eventually figure out Subaru wasn’t actually her Master.

But honestly? Gojo wasn’t all that concerned.

Sure, she was powerful—dangerous, even—but if she stepped out of line, he could handle it. He would handle it.

His eyes flicked up toward her as they walked.

...Maybe "dealing with her" wouldn't be necessary, though. She didn’t seem like a bad person. Just... morally bankrupt. Centuries alone in a tower with nothing but death on the job description would do that to anyone, he guessed.

Then—

"And we've arrived!"

Shaula’s voice rang out, shattering the air like glass. Gojo’s gaze lifted just as the staircase unwound itself into the ceiling above.

After several long minutes of climbing, they had reached the Fourth Floor.

Subaru gave the place a passing glance, noting with a flicker of discomfort the open ledge that overlooked the sun-scorched wasteland below.

That exact spot was where Shaula had crushed his skull like a grape in one of the previous loops.

He muttered. "...Time for the trial, I guess. C’mon, Gojo."

He paused. "...Wait, are there more stairs, or—?"

"Nope~!" Shaula chirped. "Fourth and third floors are connected~ So lucky you~! No more spirals of despair for your poor human legs!"

"Great..." Subaru sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let’s go, then."

"Sure." Gojo replied with a shrug.

The duo moved forward, approaching a new flight of stairs. This time, mercifully ordinary—straight steps with sturdy railings on either side. The kind you’d find in any office building back on Earth, grounding them briefly in familiarity.

They climbed. And climbed.

The air grew thinner with each step, their surroundings dimming as they ascended.

Then, suddenly, they crossed a threshold—

Reality fractured with a sharp, resonant snap.

The third floor wasn’t a floor anymore. It had become something else entirely.

They stepped into an endless void—pure, blinding white stretching infinitely in every direction. There were no walls, no ceiling, no horizon—just the vast emptiness.

The floor beneath them shimmered flawlessly, a vast white so perfect and colorless it felt less like solid ground and more like a fragile illusion. Every step seemed like walking on the edge of nothingness.

Subaru flinched involuntarily, a cold wave of nausea rolling through him. The sensation was disorienting, as if the world itself might collapse beneath his feet at any moment.

Gojo, however, took a few confident strides forward, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if daring the void to challenge him. His expression tightened, eyes narrowing behind his blindfold.

This feels almost familiar... Almost like a sorcerer's Innate Domain. Not quite, though. Too sterile. Too... empty. Obviously not manifested in the same way as a Sorcerer's either. No Cursed Energy whatsoever. No will behind it. Just unending space.

The moment they moved fully into the white expanse, the void reacted—

CRACK-!

A rupture exploded through the space above, below, and around them. Spirals of fractures webbed out in every direction like glass under pressure. Light refracted violently.

"What—?!"

The air thickened. A crushing weight sank into Subaru’s skull like iron pressing through bone.

And just like that—

Blackness.

---

Subaru’s eyes fluttered open, chest heaving as if he’d been holding his breath underwater for far too long. The air felt thin and heavy, and for a moment, he couldn’t place where—or when—he was.

Then he saw it.

An infinite expanse of mirrors stretched endlessly in every direction around him, each one fractured by delicate cracks that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow.

Every reflection was distorted. Every image was wrong.

He staggered upright, heart pounding fiercely against his ribs.

"...Gojo!?" He called out, voice cracking with urgency.

Only silence answered.

"...Shit."

Panic bubbled beneath the surface, but Subaru clenched his fists, forcing himself to swallow the rising dread. This was the trial. He was alone. That much was clear.

"...Guess I should be thanking this place." he muttered bitterly, voice low. "This is what I wanted, right? To do this on my own..."

He turned—and froze.

One mirror caught his gaze—a version of himself, face cast in shadow, eyes cold and unreadable. In his hand, a coin flipped lazily through the air.

"...Heads." the reflection whispered in a voice that barely sounded human. "Don’t worry, Frederica. Your family is safe... for now."

Subaru’s breath caught. This was something he’d never truly confronted before, yet there it was, laid bare before him.

He spun, catching another mirror’s reflection.

There he was again—eyes wild, teeth bared like a beast—his hands wrapped tightly around the throat of a young boy, gasping, clawing for air in a grimy alley. The same alley where he’d first crossed paths with Emilia and those thugs. The boy, or just a midget, one of the thieves he’d met on his very first day in Lugunica, was fading fast, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You think this is the first time I’ve met you? I’ve seen you all—eighty-eight times..."

Subaru stumbled back, nausea rising in his throat.

A third mirror flickered to life—showing Echidna, the Witch of Greed, smiling coyly across the table at the Witch’s Tea Party.

"Would you like to form a contract with me, Natsuki Subaru?"

The voices surrounded him then—overlapping, whispering, accusing, condemning.

His eyes widened, then narrowed.

"What the hell is this...?"

The mirrors remained silent—offering no answers.

But above him, the words burned into the void.

"The Chamber of Reflected Truth"

—Begin.

---

Satoru Gojo’s eyes snapped open.

And in an instant—before he even had time to process what had just ended—his body moved on instinct, peeling itself off the invisible floor as if some ancient reflex in his bones wouldn’t allow him to stay down. His breath caught in his throat—not from fear, no, but from disorientation. From the staggering silence. From the absence of everything that mattered.

Around him stretched a vast and endless realm of mirrors.

Each pane floated weightlessly in the void, suspended like frozen shards of time itself. And in every one, he saw a reflection of himself.

But not the man who stood there now.

These reflections showed fragmented versions—slivers of possibility and memory, warped by time and grief. Some were snapshots from his past back on Earth. Others were twisted “what-ifs”—parallel worlds born of decisions never made. But all of them, every last one, carried something false. Something wrong.

Gojo stood in silence, heart drumming a slow, reluctant rhythm against his ribs.

Each version of himself was smiling.

Grinning.

Laughing.

Yet none of them were truly alive. They stood alone—on rooftops, in ruined cities, in hollow halls of power. Untouched. Untouchable. They wore the mask so well—the sharp smile, the casual tilt of the head, the careless confidence. He knew that grin intimately. It was etched into his own bones.

Fake. Every single one.

Except one.

One mirror stood still at the center of it all. Isolated from the rest. And what it held—

Gojo’s body. Bisected cleanly at the waist. Crumpled atop shattered pavement, a ruined city behind him. His Six Eyes had gone dim. His limbs motionless. It should’ve been horrifying.

But the smile.

On that corpse’s face—

It was genuine.

Because in that broken world, he hadn’t died alone.

Gojo’s throat tightened, suddenly dry. His hands clenched into fists without meaning to—shaking at his sides as something deep, long-buried, threatened to rise.

"...Hah..." He tried to speak, tried to breathe, but the air felt impossibly heavy. Like it was made of all the things he’d refused to feel for years. "What the hell… is this?"

His legs moved, one step, then another, his feet dragging across the empty floor as though drawn to that image by some invisible thread. His entire body trembled, not from pain, but from recognition. From longing. From the terrifying truth that—deep down—some part of him wanted that ending.

Then the mirror shifted.

Not him this time.

Suguru Geto, angrier and more desperate than Gojo had ever seen him before.

He stood in some dimly lit office, eyes wide, jaw clenched, slamming his fist onto a desk as his voice broke with frustration.

"What do you mean you can’t find him?! He’s Satoru Gojo! He doesn’t just vanish off the face of the Earth like how you've described!"

Gojo’s breath hitched in his throat.

He watched. And he watched. And he watches. He watched Geto search. Watched him fight. Watched him die. The blade cleaved him too fast. Too cleanly. Not even an ounce of cursed energy. No warning.

Just steel and silence.

Gojo collapsed to his knees.

A hand clamped over his mouth as bile threatened to rise. He didn’t vomit—he couldn’t. The weight in his chest was too heavy. It sat on him like an anchor, holding him in place, refusing to let him look away.

Because the Six Eyes would not let him.

Every moment. Every detail. Every speck of blood.

It was all too clear.

He curled forward, fingers clawing into his scalp, molars grinding hard enough to hurt. It didn’t matter. Nothing dulled the fire raging behind his eyes.

And then—

A hand on his shoulder.

Gojo flinched, every nerve in his body lighting up.

His head snapped up—

And standing there before him... was himself.

Not as he was now, but younger. Wearing the black Jujutsu High uniform, the old slim sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The tilt of his head was cocky. Familiar. But the smile?

Cold.

Mocking.

Empty.

"What, gonna cry, seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be the strongest~?"

The words were slow. Calculated. Each one twisted like a blade.

"So why care what anyone thinks?"
"Why care what happened to Suguru Geto?"

The reflection stepped closer, voice low but sharp enough to cut.

"Caring is weakness."
"Satoru Gojo cannot be weak."
"You don’t get to grieve. You don’t get to feel."
"So just forget all that. Burn everything down. Rip the world apart and prove you’re not a fake."

A wild grin spread across the reflection’s face, cerulean eyes glinting with manic clarity—filled with something Gojo had always feared seeing in himself. It was the grin of a god with no faith left in humanity.

Another mirror ignited to life beside it.

And in it—a new vision.

Gojo, untethered.

A version of himself stripped clean of attachments, of restraint, of love. A monster cloaked in power, razing city after city with nothing but raw force and indifference. There was no sorrow in his face. No doubt. Only strength. Terrifying, endless strength.

Stronger than he had ever been.

Stronger than he might ever become.

And utterly, completely alone.

The reflection let out a quiet, disdainful scoff.

"Tsck..."

And then—

The world snapped again.

Not like before, not a gentle unraveling.

This was violent.

Sudden.

The mirrors cracked outward like an earthquake rippling across glass, and Gojo was swallowed whole as darkness surged in like a rising tide.

---

"Ugh–?!"

Gojo winced as something struck his shin, jerking his body upright—he blinked, confused, heart pounding. His face was damp with drool. His head had been resting on—

A desk.

He looked around.

Classroom walls.

Dusty sunlight pouring in through old windows.

A place so familiar it hurt. Jujutsu High.

It was unmistakable. He had only ever slept in these rooms, rarely learning anything... but still. It was real. Tangible. And filled with memories he cherished more than anything.

"What?" Gojo muttered, disoriented.

A voice answered.

"What are you waiting for?"

Gojo raised his head. Suguru Geto. Smirking, arms crossed, standing beside him with that same half-teasing, half-endearing look he always wore when Gojo zoned out in class.

"I know this stuff is boring, but class is over so get up already."

They walked through the familiar stone corridors of Jujutsu High, side by side.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, warm and golden—softer than Gojo remembered. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, rhythmic and easy, like they'd done this a thousand times before.

"Do you remember when Yaga made us clean up that cursed warehouse after you blew half the roof off?" Geto asked, hands tucked into his sleeves, a sly smirk curling on his lips.

Gojo rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Excuse me, you were the one who said ‘what’s the worst that could happen’ right before tossing a cursed spirit into the air like a volleyball!”

"Yeah." Geto shrugged, grinning back. "But you were the one who roundhouse-kicked it straight through an apartment window!”

They both broke into laughter, echoing through the empty hallway.

It felt easy.

Too easy.

They wandered through the training yard next—sunlight glinting off the metal poles, the scent of summer grass in the air. Gojo flicked a rock off his shoe.

"You were always too serious about this place..." he said, teasing.

"You were never serious enough..." Geto retorted, arms crossed but clearly fighting a grin. "Remember that time you skipped three straight days of training?"

Gojo shrugged. "I was meditating, you know!"

"You were passed out on the roof with an ice pack over your face and a soda can balanced on your forehead."

"Yeah... and it clearly did wonders for training, look at me now!" Gojo quipped.

They laughed again, and walked.

Every corridor was etched with memory.

The vending machines that never worked.

The stone path to the dorms.

The tree where Nanami once nearly quit, and Gojo convinced him to stay with a twenty-minute rant about ‘the art of street fashion and looking undeniably handsome’.

Time seemed to melt around them.

Minutes stretched and blurred into hours—or maybe it was the other way around. The world around them slowed to a timeless drift, as if the very air held its breath.

Eventually, they reached a small grassy hill just beyond the school grounds—a quiet place Gojo could remember well, fondly even. The hill where they used to sneak snacks, huddle close in secret, and grumble about endless, exhausting missions.

They settled there.

For a long moment, no words passed between them.

The sky overhead slowly bled into shades of orange and purple, clouds stained with fire and gold. The sinking sun cast a warm, honeyed light that brushed gently over their skin, bathing everything in a quiet kind of reverence.

Suguru leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"This feels nice, doesn’t it?"

Gojo stared straight ahead, the usual gleam in his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, though it was clear his gaze wasn’t really on the horizon.

His voice was softer than it had been in a long time—almost reluctant, almost fragile.
"Yeah. Yeah... it does."

A gentle breeze stirred the tall grass around them, bending blades in soft waves that whispered secrets neither of them spoke aloud.

Suguru shifted, breaking the silence again.

"You know..." he said, voice light, "You don’t always have to be the strongest."

Gojo blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You could’ve just said you missed me, you know!" He shot back, playful but carrying something deeper beneath the surface.

Geto laughed quietly—a sound tinged with nostalgia and a hint of regret—and shrugged.
"Yeah. Well I suppose I do…"

Gojo turned slightly toward him, his eyes narrowing beneath the blindfold, the usual arrogance replaced with something raw, vulnerable.

"...Suguru."

"Mm?"

He hesitated, then forced the words out, his voice barely above a whisper—fractured and surprisingly fragile.
"I… think I’m scared."

For a moment, the wind paused—or maybe it just felt that way, like the entire world held still to hear the confession.

"What of?" Suguru asked gently, tilting his head, his voice a soft invitation to honesty.

Gojo swallowed, throat suddenly dry and tight.

"...Of being alone."

It came out raw, stripped of the bravado and sarcasm he wore like armor. Just the truth, finally spoken after years of hiding behind strength and jokes.

Suguru turned to look at him, his eyes softening—an ocean of warmth and understanding breaking through the barrier of time and pain.

"You always were." He said, with no judgment in his eyes, merely a calm, soft smile.

And in that moment, Gojo realized it. He understood what he had been feeling for years on end.

Strength had never been the goal.

He pursued it because it was the only thing he thought he had left—because if he was invincible, untouchable, the strongest, then he wouldn’t lose anyone. He wouldn’t be left behind in any sense.

But strength never saved him from that.

It never would.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their long shadows across the hilltop, Gojo finally understood what the mirrors wanted him to realize...

It wasn’t power that made life meaningful. It was connection.

The two of them sat in silence as the last rays of sun stretched out across the sky, golden light glinting off the dorm windows far behind them. The moment was quiet. Real. Peaceful in a way Gojo had almost forgotten peace could be.

"Y’know…" Geto began, not looking at him, "You’re not as good at pretending as you think."

Gojo let out a soft breath. "Was it that obvious?"

"You’ve always been loud as hell." Geto smiled. "But you get loudest when you're hurting and don't know how to tell."

Gojo didn't respond, just stared ahead—where the horizon met the sky like the edge of a world that could have been. Something tugged deep in his chest.

A silence passed.

Suguru spoke again, gentler this time.

"You never needed to carry it alone, Satoru."

Gojo turned, and their eyes met. Even behind the sunglasses, he could feel it—that warmth, that truth. The same old Suguru that he'd never be able to forget about. The same friend who had stood beside him in the best of times, and the worst.

Gojo parted his lips, his voice caught somewhere between breath and word.

But before anything could leave his throat, the world itself began to tremble.

The golden hues of the setting sun—so warm, so vivid just seconds ago—fractured like brittle glass under pressure, cracking along invisible veins that spiderwebbed across the sky. The wind stilled, suspended mid-sigh, and the horizon bled into white like paint washing off an old canvas.

"No—!"

Suguru rose to his feet, slowly, steadily—as if he already knew the moment was slipping away. The dream around them was fading, unraveling thread by thread, memory by memory. But he looked down at Gojo one last time, his expression tender. Not with the teasing smirk of youth, nor the hard lines of ideology—but something rare, and true.

A smile.

His smile.

"Don’t forget it, alright?" Suguru said softly, voice barely louder than the wind. "Even when you wake up... you were never really alone."

There was a pause.

"And you don’t have to be, either."

He turned just slightly, hands slipping into his pockets, shoulders relaxing.

"Just, ahh… make sure you teach him that too, alright?"

And then, surprisingly—

A tear. Just one. But it fell without resistance, cutting silently down Gojo’s cheek past the sunglasses. The last trace of light fractured behind Suguru’s silhouette as the dream reached its limit.

CRACK—

The sky gave way like glass under pressure, rupturing with a deafening shatter.

And in a heartbeat, Gojo was standing once more inside the infinite mirror realm—an expanse of white and silver stretching endlessly in every direction. The illusion was gone. The warmth of the sun, the sound of laughter, the weight of Suguru’s presence—all gone.

But not the feeling.

Not the truth.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Gojo exhaled—not sharply, not in defiance, but in quiet relief. The burden pressing on his shoulders had lightened, even if only slightly. He reached up to touch the blindfold beneath his eye, fingers brushing against the faint dampness lingering there.

He scoffed under his breath.

"Tch… seriously? He just had to be the one to catch me crying…"

A wry grin spread across his face, a mixture of irritation and affection wrapped in a familiar Satoru Gojo bravado.

He turned slowly—his gaze locking onto the reflection still standing in the white void across from him.

That other version of himself stared back. Unsmiling. Emotionless. A vision of perfection and power unburdened by doubt, relationships, or grief. His head tilted just slightly, an expression of clinical curiosity flickering across his otherwise blank face.

"So...?"
The reflection asked. No malice. Just quiet expectation.

Gojo’s grin didn’t falter.

In one fluid motion, he raised a single hand, and with a low hum, a vermillion glow began to swirl into life at the center of his palm.
Cursed Technique: Lapse - Red.
The air distorted, space warping the mirror realm as the pressure around him intensified.

"I refuse..." Gojo said, voice steady and clear. "To be what you want me to be."

His hand didn’t tremble.

His heart didn’t falter.

"Because there’s more to life than strength..." he added, "And I finally understand just what that something is."

For a moment, the reflection stared back at him, motionless. Then its lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Suit yourself then~"

Gojo didn’t hesitate. He unleashed the Red—the searing crimson blast tore forward with overwhelming force, engulfing the reflection and obliterating it into countless shards of light, which scattered and vanished into the void.

The realm itself began to collapse, shattering like brittle porcelain underfoot.

Gojo stood alone, unshaken.

But not lonely.

The Third Floor Trial: 1/2 COMPLETE

Notes:

Wooo, this ones a little different, but I actually think I did a pretty good job what I wanted to convey for Gojo's character.

Now onto the harder part of the two... Subaru.

Chapter 34: The Third Floor Trial (2)

As Gojo’s eyes slowly reopened, he watched the very fabric of the world fracture—an endless, invisible pane of glass cracking in all directions with a sharp, crystalline echo. Light poured out through the seams, flooding the space—until it finally died down, peeling back to reveal a new reality.

Stone.

Walls of it—arched, towering, ancient. An impossibly vast room stretched out before him, lined wall-to-wall with countless shelves. Books upon books—endless tomes crammed together, spiraling up into blackness overhead like a cathedral of knowledge.

And standing in the center of it all—Gojo Satoru, blinking beneath his blindfold, next to a familiar, grinning face.

“Ahhh... so I did do it, huh?” he said, brushing a bit of dust off his coat and glancing sidelong at the silver-haired woman beside him. “Didn’t think passing a soul-shattering mirror maze would dump me in a library, though. Also... you?”

Shaula leaned forward, hands behind her back, rocking on her heels with a bright smirk. “Mmm~ I wanted to take the trial myself! Not even I know what they are—since they change each time—so I got reeeeally curious!”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “So you just... tagged along for the hell of it?”

“Yuuup~” she chimed, unapologetically.

He shrugged, giving the shelves around him a casual glance. There were thousands—no, a countless number of books, radiating the quiet pressure of knowledge most mortals weren’t meant to touch.

But even with all that weight pressing in, something was... off.

His fingers twitched.

“I don’t see Subaru..” he muttered.

Shaula waved her hand vaguely toward the air. “Master’ll be fiiine~ Trials like that don’t really end until the challenger figures out what they need to. He has as much time as he wants.”

Gojo frowned.

Time.

That, Gojo noted, sounded less reassuring and more... absolute. He couldn’t shake the feeling: Subaru wouldn’t be allowed to leave until he passed it. The same way Gojo hadn’t been allowed to leave his trial until he cracked it wide open.

Which meant—Subaru was still inside.

Still facing it.

Gojo's grin faded. His brow creased.

“...I don’t like it.” Gojo muttered, his tone darker now. “The trial was easier for us, sure. But only because...” His voice trailed. “It's obviously more designed for people who are currently... what's the word...”

“Not... dealing with stuff?” He put it in the simplest way possible, before crossing his arms to think.

“If Subaru’s going through something like that—and it’s about acceptance, realization—then yeah... he’s gonna suffer.. because right now he's clearly not in the state of mind to acknowledge something like that.”

Shaula tilted her head, unreadable for a moment.

Gojo glanced toward the nearest staircase leading deeper into the tower, then closed his eyes.

“Still...” he said quietly, “he’s survived worse..”

He opened them again, and this time, the usual grin returned—smaller, more tempered. But real.

“Subaru’ll be just fine.”

Gojo eventually took a seat somewhere, casually folding one leg over the other as his eyes flicked across the impossibly vast library now surrounding him. The sheer size of the place was astounding—even by his standards.

But it didn’t matter.

Not right now at least.

He leaned back slightly, elbows on the armrests, gaze shifting from the endless towers of books to the beaming girl still staring at him like a golden retriever.

Shaula.

Always smiling. Always unpredictable.

The silence stretched a few seconds too long—just enough to feel awkward. Gojo cleared his throat.

“So… about that, uh… what was his name again… Reid?”

Shaula suddenly jumped.

Not metaphorically—literally. Her body launched several meters into the air like she’d just touched an electric wire and got electrocuted. Her pupils shrank into dots.

“HUH!? Reid!? Where!?”

Gojo blinked.
“…Um.”

He watched her land in a crouch like a startled cat, tail twitching—if she had one.

He stared flatly, unimpressed but mildly entertained at the sight.

“…Okay. So that’s a reaction and a half...”

He tilted his head slightly, amused.
“What, did he like... kick puppies or something?”

Shaula scowled, puffing out her cheeks. “Huh? I mean, probably~ He was mean! Real mean! I’m talkin’ capital-M Monster-tier asshole!”

Gojo blinked again. “But wasn’t he the Sword Saint?”

She stomped over, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Yeah! A Sword Saint with the personality of a flaming trash can!”

He chuckled under his breath. “...Okay, well now I’m curious.”

Shaula crossed her arms, clearly fired up now. “Reid loved bullying people! He’d just roll up, say something snarky, punch you into the ground for breathing wrong, then act like you were the one being rude!”

Gojo raised a brow. “Sounds like he thought everyone was beneath him. Not that uncommon...”

Shaula nodded sharply. “Because they literally were! From his point of view, anyway! Do you know how strong you have to be to consider me a bug!?”

“Well... you must've been weaker back then right? It was centuries ago after all.”

Shaula swiftly shook her head, frowning.
“Nope~ the me you see now is the me that fought Reid~"

He grinned, half covering the smirk with his hand before continuing.
“Then what, it must've been a real fight right...?”

“Um... I wish~ maybe if it were I would've had a few chances to wipe off that smug look on his face! All it took was one hand for him to beat me.”

Gojo paused, blinking at her bluntness.

“…He could beat you with one hand?”

“Casually! Sometimes two if I really gave it a hundred and ten percent, but mostly one. And he didn’t even like using his sword unless it was for dramatic effect. The guy would lecture me and laugh at me mid-fight and still win!”

“That thing is meant to be skilled with the sword, not hand-to-hand!”

Gojo strangely enough, nodded in agreement. The nostalgia of having his ass whooped to kingdom-come by Reinhard's bare hands setting in.

That actually sounds kind of terrifying though...

He scratched the back of his neck, thoughtful.

A Sword Saint, just like Reinhard—but an asshole version?

That comparison felt… off.

Reinhard was kindness incarnate. Unshakable justice. A walking paragon of goodness wrapped in stupidly perfect hair.

But Reid?

This guy sounded like the inverse. A walking storm.

Gojo's expression softened slightly, thoughtful.
“Sounds like he was a real piece of work. But still…”

He looked up, eyes narrowing slightly.
“If someone like that existed… I kinda wish I could’ve fought him.”

Shaula choked.
“What!? Are you crazy!?”

Gojo smirked.
“Only a little.”

It’s a shame. Guys like that—people that overwhelming—you don’t run into them often. They’re rare. Forces of nature. I suppose this world has definitely got a lot more powerful people in it than Earth but... even now I've never had a genuine equal.

With Reinhard well, he's always holding back... when I fought Regulus it was more annoying than anything cause I couldn't actually touch him, and I'd find an arm would go flying from my body every five seconds.

He closed his eyes.

I wonder if he had people who understood him. Or if being that strong just made him more alone.

Gojo didn’t say that part aloud.

“He was the first Sword Saint right? I remember in one of the books Reinhard forced me to read he played a big role in sealing away the Witch of Envy.”

Shaula nodded.
“Mhmm~ you've done your history lessons then! Well, I don't actually know how history has painted him... but if the world doesn't hate him then it's just lying to everyone's faces!"

Gojo chuckled for a moment, before he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee and giving Shaula a sideways glance.

“Well, if you hated him that much, why stick around? Didn’t he die four centuries ago?”

Shaula’s smile wavered—just a little.

“…Well, because.”

Gojo tilted his head.

“Despite his bluntness 'n the fact he was a dick... he was also the only one that wouldn't lie to me.”

There was silence.

Not awkward.

Just… quiet.

Then Shaula beamed again.
“And 'cause Master told me to~ Anyway! Screw that guy right!!”

Gojo chuckled, rubbing his temple.
“You’re real weird...”

Gojo laughed again under his breath, still watching Shaula with that half-lidded, bemused gaze of his.

“I guess weird isn't always bad though..” He murmured, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back.

“Mmhm~! It’s the spice of life~” Shaula chimed, then abruptly shifted tones. “But seriously... if you ever do see Reid, you run!”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, amused. “Ain't he dead? Bit of a useless warning. Well... whatever, but I don't run from anyone.”

Her smile didn’t falter. But her tone did.

“Even if it would mean dying?~”

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. He glanced up toward the ceiling of books that stretched infinitely into the black void, expression unreadable behind his blindfold.

“Depends on what dying would mean I guess...”

Shaula tilted her head, watching him.

“I’ve gotten real close to dying once before, though not close enough to see what the afterlife might've had in store so I dunno how to actually answer that question.” Gojo said softly.

It wasn’t boastful. It wasn’t even dramatic. Just a quiet fact spoken in a room full of silence. He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, voice low and steady.

“I guess I actually used to think that being strong meant being untouchable. Unshakable. Above it all. Like Reid, maybe. Wait, was I actually an asshole back on Earth?”

He muttered that last part with furrowed brows, a tint of realization settling in before he felt movement next to him. Watching as Shaula turned toward him suddenly, grinning ear-to-ear.

“I dunno what you're talking about, but~ you wanna hear how I once tried to poison Reid with a moldy shrimp!?”

Gojo’s eyes snapped open behind his blindfold.

“… Pfft, I most definitely do!”

---

Subaru was on his knees.

Slouched, broken, both palms clamped as tightly as possible to either side of his skull, as if he could crush the thoughts before they reached him. His eyes were slammed shut. His molars ground against one another in agony—not physical, but the kind of mental anguish that couldn't be numbed, couldn't be endured.

The voices wouldn’t stop.

They weren’t just hallucinations—they were memories, echoes, futures that never came to be, regrets that never got the chance to form. Hundreds of them. Countless timelines blurring together in a symphony of torment. Some whispered. Some screamed.

This wasn't a trial.

This was damnation.

This was worse than death.

Subaru shuddered. He couldn’t comprehend it—why? Why was this happening? What sin had he committed so vile that the world itself was now punishing him with everything he couldn't handle?

He had died before. He had suffered.

But this?

This was Hell. This was damnation.

Then—one mirror lit up once more.

He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t need to. The image burned itself into his mind as though the reflection was being projected inside his very soul.

It showed him… pushing them away, his friends, his closest.

Not with cruelty. Not with violence.

But with distance. With silence.

With Pride.

Emilia turned her back to him, walking slowly into the dark. Her face was hidden—distant. Her voice floated back, laced with a sorrow deeper than anything she had shown him in life.

“You said I didn’t need to suffer, Subaru…
So why do you keep carrying it all alone?
Did you even want us near you to begin with?”

Rem came next. Her reflection was fractured, shaking. Her eyes shimmered with tears she couldn’t hold back.

“It’s not fair, Subaru...
Not on you.
Not on us who want to help you.
Why do you need to handle everything on your own?”

Because he had to.

Because if he didn’t—who was he? what was he?

Because he couldn’t go back to being that pathetic, useless, worthless excuse of a human being he was before.

That spineless loser from another world who never amounted to anything for two decades. No accomplishments. No purpose.

But here—here—in this cursed, unforgiving, yet still beautiful world… he wanted to feel needed. He wanted to feel important. Even if that importance came from death. Even if it came from suffering. Even if—

Even if it came at the cost of his very soul.

If him suffering everyone else’s torment meant he had a reason to exist, so be it.

If he had to bear it all, loop after loop after loop, then so be it.

He reaffirmed this to himself. But—

…Then why did the thought taste so bitter?

SWOOSH—

Another mirror ignited, this one impossibly bright just like all the ones prior.

Information flooded into Subaru’s skull like a floodlight to the brain—blinding. He gasped.

It showed a world without him.

Not one where he never existed, but one where he truly died. One where he perished saving everyone else.

A meaningful death.

A hero’s death.

The kind of ending anyone would be proud of.

Right?

Wrong.

Gojo moved on. Stronger than ever. Laughing. Joking. Still fighting—but lighter.

Emilia moved on. A soft smile on her face as she took the crown. Kind. Radiant. Fulfilled.

Without him.

They mourned, yes. Cried, yes.

But in time, they smiled again.

The world kept turning.

Without Subaru.

He clutched his gut, bile rising—but no tears came. Not this time.

Something deeper turned over inside him.

A whisper.

“If I’m not needed…
If I’m not useful…
Then what am I even here for?”

He hated the thought.

He hated himself.

Not because they moved on.

But because… a part of him resented that they could.

Because the truth, the ugly truth, was that he didn’t save them for them. All those countless loops, all those countless deaths in the past, it was done as nothing more than because it gave him purpose.

That might've been different in the past. But he is different now, that is why.

Because it filled that yawning black hole in his chest that screamed.
“You are nothing.”

Because saving them made him feel like something.

That wasn’t selflessness.

That wasn’t love.

That was desperation dressed in false nobility.

Disgusting.
Wrong.
Evil.

The words rang in his mind like hammers against cracked glass.

He shook. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to die despite the impossibility of it.

And still—

He couldn’t say it.

He knew the truth.

He knew he was wrong.

He knew that asking for help, breaking the cycle, leaning on others—that was the right thing to do.

But he couldn’t.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because—

Because his Pride wouldn’t let him.

“Urgh…”

His lip trembled, then split open between his teeth as he bit down—hard enough to bleed.

He tasted metal.

No.
That’s a lie too.

His Pride?

There was nothing left of it.

It was hollow. False.

A mask slapped on top of a shattered boy who didn’t want to be a burden again.

Subaru’s head hung low, the weight of his own existence crushing his spine into the ground.

And then—
Another mirror lit up.

It cast a cold glow like a searchlight in the dark, piercing through the cacophony of voices that still echoed like damned souls clawing through the walls of his skull.

But the image it showed wasn’t grotesque.
It wasn’t violent.
It wasn’t twisted or alternate or fantastical.

It was real.

A boy.

Lying on a bed, flat on his back.
A phone in hand.
Eyes glazed over—not with tears, not with pain, but with nothingness.
Dead before death itself came.

That was the worst thing the mirrors could have ever shown him.

His mouth opened in a silent scream.
His chest clenched as if his lungs were caving in.

The numbness. The rot.
The wasted time. The silent, festering shame of a boy who had potential—and let it die alone, behind a shut bedroom door.

He had buried that memory. That version of himself.

But the mirror unearthed it, dragged it back into the light, and forced him to see it. To remember.

That boy didn’t cry.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t beg.

He quit. Quietly. He surrendered.

And that—that—was worse than any death Subaru had faced in this world.

His hands curled into fists.

Anger.
Rage.
Shame.

Not at the boy in the mirror.

But at himself, here and now, pretending he had changed.

Because the truth was—he hadn’t really.

Back then, he used to be someone. A prodigy. Bright. Outgoing. People noticed him. Talked about him. Teachers praised him. Classmates followed him.

But none of it was his.

Because no matter what he did—no matter how hard he tried—it was never “Subaru”.

It was always:

“He’s just like his dad!”
“Wow, Natsuki’s kid really is something!”

He wasn't Natsuki Subaru.

He was a footnote to someone else’s legacy. A hollow echo.

And maybe that’s when it started—this obsession.
With meaning.
With worth.
With proving himself.

Because somewhere deep down, he thought…
If I suffer enough, if I endure enough, if I bleed enough 'for others'—then maybe... finally... I’ll be acknowledged... Maybe I’ll matter. Maybe I’ll actually exist.

But nothing had changed.

He was still that boy in the bed.

Still chasing a reason to live.

Still clinging to borrowed pain and calling it identity.

Even now—with cursed energy, with blood on his hands, with the power to defy even fate itself—he was still nothing more than a loser with a shattered ego and a desperate dream.

THWACK—!

His forehead slammed against the invisible floor.

THWACK—!

Again. Harder. Until blood joined the flood of tears pouring down his face. The pain didn’t stop him—it proved he was still alive.

And maybe that was the problem.

“What should I do…?”
“Should I just disappear again…?”
“Go back to the silence? To the room? To the boy who never mattered…?”

He shook. Violently. Every breath a shudder.

His voice cracked, barely audible.

“Nobody would care... if I gave up. If I just vanished. I’ve done it before. I’ve been forgotten before…”

He closed his eyes.

But something burned in his chest.

A spark. Small. Almost invisible.
But it was there.

Even now.

Even here.

But... I can’t...
I can’t disappear again...
Not like this...
Not now.

Even if it was meaningless.

Even if it was delusional.

Even if his Pride was a cracked mask holding together a boy made of glass—

He wasn’t going to fall here.

Not until he proved it.

Not to them.
Not even to this cursed world.

But to himself.

I’m still here…
Because I exist.
Because I’m me.
Even if I don’t know what that means yet—
That’s enough to keep going...

Then he felt it.

A presence—sharp and commanding, even without a word.
Subaru’s head snapped up instinctively, eyes bloodshot and tear-glazed. What he saw made his entire body seize with rage.

A silhouette. Gleaming in black.
A memory made flesh. A nightmare reborn.

“REINHARD!!”
Subaru’s scream tore through the silence like a blade across glass.

The one who took everything.
His power. His reason. His Pride.
The one who killed him—eighty goddamn times.
Over and over. Over and over. Again and again.

The reason he was even here.
The reason he was even suffering.
The reason he couldn't sleep. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop.

His false pride—ripped away from his soul like a limb—and now all he had was the brittle, hollow thing he’d patched together to replace it.
A mask. A lie.

Reinhard’s voice came quiet. Calm. Too calm.

"I'm sorry, Subaru. But... you need to understand... for your own sake."

SHNK—

Subaru’s eyes bulged.
There was no blade—no blood—yet he felt death slice across his throat, sharp and clean.
His hand instinctively reached for his neck.

Nothing there.

Only the memory of dying. One he’d grown far too used to.

"You need to understand that this path…”

SHNK—

Another phantom death.
Another instant of helplessness.
Another silent scream caught behind gritted teeth.

“…was never real to begin with.”

SHNK—

One last time.
Subaru didn’t move. Didn’t resist. Just trembled.

Reinhard’s voice, softer now. Almost kind.
“Stop this suffering. All it takes is a few words. A little understanding.”

And then—his body suddenly fragmented. Like a stained-glass window catching wind, Reinhard broke into glittering shards, vanishing into the vast nothingness in every direction.

But the pain remained.

The weight of every death. Every failure.
And then—a hand. Gentle. Solid.

Landing on his shoulder.

Subaru flinched—and turned.

Standing beside him was Gojo Satoru.

No grin. No cocky line.

Just sorrow.

Not pity—understanding.
A kind of understanding that didn't speak from above, but from beside. From the same trench.

“You don’t have to hurt like this, Subaru…”
Gojo’s voice was soft. Real. Frayed at the edges.
“You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Subaru’s breath hitched. His teeth clenched. His body recoiled.

“You don’t understand anything!” he barked, swatting Gojo’s hand aside.
“Not a... not a single thing!”

His voice cracked.

“I have to do this alone! If I don’t… if I don’t do this myself, then what am I?! What do I have?! What else is there for me!?”

Gojo didn’t speak for a long time.

Then, just...

“...You’ll have us.”

“Me. Rem. Emilia. Ram. Everyone. All you have to do is ask. We’ll listen. We’ll help.”
“...There’s nothing weak about that despite what you may think.”

Subaru’s lips quivered. Words failed him.

He staggered, the weight in his chest threatening to break him in half.

“…I’m still me…!” he whispered.
“Still him! That loser who threw his life away for nothing... that weakling who needed to feel like he mattered, so he pretended to be strong…!!”

Gojo shook his head.
“You are Natsuki Subaru.”

“The guy who saved my life. The guy who made me stronger. Made me better.
Who laughed with me. Who pulled me out when I couldn’t even see the edge.”

“…Although you might not even realize it, you've changed who I am. You've changed all of us. You've saved us.”

Gojo smiled, gentle and tired.

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore.
You just have to keep going.
Let us help.
Let someone see you.”

Subaru’s legs betrayed him, collapsing beneath the unbearable weight of his own existence.

He crumpled to his knees with a hollow thud, every fiber screaming in protest despite the total lack of motion.

His head bowed low, like a broken monument to everything he’d failed to be.

Tears spilled freely—raw and unrestrained—carving hot rivers down his cheeks, dripping onto the cold, glasslike floor.

They pooled and shimmered, merging with his fractured reflection as if the boy in the glass might shatter alongside him.

Still, Gojo remained silent.

Not a word.

Not a breath.

Just steady, patient, unwavering presence.

The crushing silence stretched—endless, suffocating.

Then, trembling against the weight of his own shame and despair, Subaru’s voice cracked open like a fragile wound.

A whisper, trembling, barely there:

“…Please…”
“…He…lp me… Gojo-sensei…”

Each syllable was both surrender and a desperate plea—tasting bitter and sweet, defeat and hope tangled together.

Gojo stepped forward slowly, lowering himself until his eyes met Subaru’s—solid and real, a lifeline in the storm.

His hand settled gently on Subaru’s shaking shoulder—steady and warm, an anchor to this very world.

“I already planned to… My friend.”

And then, as if dissolving into the dawn of a new beginning, Gojo’s form shimmered and broke apart—radiant flecks of glass and light scattering like stars in the endless dark.

The mirrors cracked.
The voices fell silent.
The realm shattered like a soap bubble.

And in its place—

A colossal door.
An endless library.
The Third Floor of the Pleiades Watchtower.

Waiting for him.

The Third Floor Trial: 2/2 COMPLETE

Notes:

Woooohooo, Subaru's return to sanity begins here.

Chapter 35: The Second Trial Begins.

Notes:

Gotta say thanks to all the positive comments in the last chapter, since it was one of the first times I'd done such a thing like that so I'm glad to see people actually liked it. Made me feel extra motivated to pump out another so I just couldn't help myself.

With an overly long, echoing creak that shivered across the vast stone and silence of the library, the massive doors groaned open—reluctantly, heavily—as if moved by more than just physical force.

And through them stepped Subaru.

A silhouette, slouched and shadowed, crossing the threshold like a man freshly pulled from the bottom of the ocean. He looked up only briefly—just long enough to take in the impossible scale of the Library—before his gaze dropped again, heavy and ashamed.

Blood matted his hair, dried in streaks from where he’d slammed his forehead into the Trial’s ground. His eyes were swollen, red from tears and rage and ghosts.

But then he saw them.

Satoru Gojo and Shaula—waiting for him.

And despite the exhaustion pressing down on him like gravity itself, Subaru felt it: relief. Pure and immense. It made his knees nearly buckle.
They were here. Which meant it was real.

He had truly passed the first of the three trials.

Gojo’s head turned toward him even before the sound of footsteps reached his ears—those eyes, those impossible eyes, sensing far more than just sound or presence.

His smile faltered, flickered out completely when he saw Subaru.

But still...
He passed it.

Gojo stood slowly, stretching his arms overhead with a slight pop in his shoulders before strolling forward. Subaru didn’t look up until the last second, meeting his gaze with tired defiance.

“So you did it, huh?”
Gojo’s voice was light. A small smile returned.

Subaru took a shaky breath, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a grin—far too wide, too forced.

“Of course I did! What—did you think I couldn’t?”

He tried to move past, brushing by with a step toward the towering bookshelves—but a hand landed on his shoulder. Not forcefully. Not painfully. But firmly.

That hand…
That hand.

Gojo wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You’re still pretending…” he said quietly.
“…Pretending like you’re okay when you obviously aren’t.”

His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the strength behind it.
“Subaru... just be more honest with yourself. Whatever you’re going through... we can go through it together. It's why I've came all the way out here in the first place…”

Of course Gojo knew.

Nothing ever got past those eyes.

Those words… they struck deep.
Almost identical to what that false Gojo—the Trial's illusion—had said to him.
But now they were real.
They meant something more.

Subaru’s shoulders trembled.

“…So that’s what you really thought, huh…”
He muttered, his voice low and hoarse, eyes staring at the ground.

Gojo said nothing—just tilted his head slightly, patient as ever. Watching.

Subaru let out a long, bitter breath and turned fully to face Gojo. His voice cracked.
“Urgh… crap…”

It all came flooding back.
The pain. The deaths. The guilt.
All the loops. All the anger. Even the ones where Gojo had killed him—he knew those weren’t really him. They never were.

And finally, it broke.

“I’m sorry…” Subaru said. His voice trembled, but he didn’t look away.
“Gojo-sensei… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—for pushing you away. For treating you like crap when all you did was try to help me. I—I just…”

He couldn’t finish.

The tears had returned. Not like before—loud and wild—but quieter, more painful. The kind of crying that comes when the fight is finally over.

Gojo nodded. A gentle grin pulled at his lips, soft and reassuring.

He didn’t need to know every detail of what Subaru was actually going through, so long as he was actually there, that would be enough.

“Don’t worry about it!” Gojo said. “I’m just glad you’re back. Right?”

Subaru let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyes with a trembling forearm before grinning, his first genuine laugh in a long while.

“…Yeah. I’m back.”

---

The trio wandered together through the hushed, endless corridors of the Library—no words, only the echo of their footsteps against marbled stone and the rustle of ancient air through towering shelves.

Then, breaking the silence, Subaru’s voice cut through—quiet, but curious.

“So… this Library… it’s supposed to have every piece of information in the world, right?”

Shaula nodded energetically, arms swinging as she walked.
“Well, I think so! That’s what you told me waaay back when, remember~?”

“…Right…” Subaru muttered, eyes sweeping across rows of books stretching into forever.
“So, is there… a magic section or something?”

Shaula puffed her cheeks, thoughtful.
“Dunno~ I’ve never actually been up here! In fact, I don’t think anyone has. Not besides Master~ Shame you’ve got such awful memory, really~!”

Subaru sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, gaze shifting toward Gojo—who finally spoke.

“So… what do you even need magic for?”
His voice was light, casual—but the look in his eyes was anything but.

Silence followed.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back slightly.
“Only if you wanna talk about it. Not tryna pry or anything…”

Subaru turned away slightly, walking toward a nearby shelf. His fingers hovered near the spine of a random tome.

“Nah. It’s fine…”
He paused, voice low. “Simply put—I need a way to retrieve a part of my soul. I… lost it.”

A beat.

“…Against Reinhard.”

Gojo’s brow lifted, expression turning sharper.
“Reinhard? Why the hell would he do something like that? I mean, I remember you saying the two of you fought but…”

“Well…” Subaru hesitated, voice growing distant. “Maybe because, at the time… I wasn’t exactly completely sane to say the least.”

No one responded to that. They didn’t need to.

Dying to the same man over and over again for half a year would twist anyone’s mind.

Subaru swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I’ll explain it all. Eventually. But right now, that’s all that matters.”

Gojo nodded slowly, accepting the answer for now.

With a heavy breath, Subaru reached toward a book at random. What were the odds it’d be the right one in a sea of impossibility?

Still—why not try his luck?

The second his fingers touched the spine—

“Subaru—?!”

Gojo lunged forward, catching Subaru’s limp body before it hit the floor. He gently lowered him down, eyes narrowing in alarm.

“What the hell just happened…?”

His gaze lifted, scanning the rows of tomes around them. Something… shifted in the air. He felt it.

Several seconds passed—then Subaru’s eyes snapped open. He sucked in sharp, gasping breaths, like he’d been pulled from underwater.

“W-What the hell was that…?”

“You good?” Gojo asked, crouched beside him.

Subaru sat up slowly, wincing as he gripped the side of his head.
“Yeah… yeah, I think so. I mean, try it yourself if you’re that curious—”

He let out a weak laugh, joking—mostly.

Gojo blinked. Then, with a shrug, stepped toward a nearby book and touched it without a second thought.

“You better catch me, then.”

The moment his fingertips brushed the dusty, ancient leather—possibly older than any kingdom in existence—he felt a wave of exhaustion slam into him like a tidal force. He stayed upright for maybe three seconds before exhaustion began to kick in.

Then his knees buckled—and he fell.

And in that darkness, he saw it.

An entire life. Not his. Someone else’s, someone he'd never met and someone he will never meet. From birth to death. Love, loss, betrayal, triumph. Every breath, every scar, every memory—streamed through his soul like a torrent.

“Uff—!”

His eyes shot open behind the blindfold. He groaned, sprawled on the polished floor as Shaula and Subaru leaned over him.

“Okay...” he breathed, rubbing his face. “Yeah. I’m not touching another book in here again. Ever.”

Subaru chuckled, still slightly pale. “So… what did you see?”

“Someone’s whole life..” Gojo muttered, blinking rapidly. “Like a memory downloaded into my brain or something. Fast-forwarded but real.”

He looked at Shaula. “How long was I out?”

Shaula leaned in, eyes wide.
“Two days…”

Gojo’s face dropped.

Then she giggled. “Kidding~! Not even ten seconds, aha!”

Gojo groaned, rubbing his temple.
“That was… something. I might need therapy after this.”

Subaru managed a dry laugh. “Welcome to the club.”

The three of them sat there, the weight of the Library pressing down around them—millions of stories, lives, secrets—waiting. Watching.

“Ugh… well…”
Gojo pulled himself upright with a sway, rubbing his head like he was shaking off a bad dream.

“So—how do we get to the next floor for the second trial? More stairs, right? Actually… what’s that floor even called?”

Shaula straightened, hands on her hips, her usual sing-song tone returning.
“Weeeell~ It’s the Second Floor: Electra. But besides that… I got nothin’. Never been past the fourth floor myself before now, sooo…”

“…Great.”

Both Subaru and Gojo just stared at her—blinking slowly, unimpressed. Hundreds of years in the same place, and she’d somehow not explored it all? Even for the absurd labyrinth that was the Pleiades Watchtower, it was baffling.

Gojo broke the silence. “So… now what?”

Even he sounded drained.

“Surely we just… look around?” Subaru suggested, gesturing vaguely at the endless expanse of towering shelves. “I mean, yeah, it’s huge, but the staircase has to be somewhere on this floor.”

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“Dude… that’s like trying to find a grain of sand in a haystack. No—even worse. A specific grain of sand. In a haystack. While blindfolded. And also on fire!”

He crossed his arms in an X and drew out each word like a judge declaring a sentence.
“I-M-P-O-S-S-I-B-L-E!”

Subaru stepped back with a wary look.
“Alright, alright… so maybe we don’t do that. What’s the alternative instead?”

Gojo’s grin returned, a spark of mischief in his voice as he smacked one fist into his palm.
“We… retrace our steps! Think about it—if the guy who built this place is anything like you…”

“Master is~” Shaula added without hesitation, beaming.

“…Then he’d totally want to piss off anyone who came in here as much as possible!” Gojo finished.

Subaru’s frown deepened.
“Is that seriously what you think of me?”

“Pssshh… moving on…” Gojo said, waving it off. “If it were you, you’d probably bait us into thinking the staircase were just impossible to find—when really, it’s been in some wide-open, obvious spot the whole time to just reaaally piss us off!”

He tilted his head, considering.
“Ooooor, I’ve completely overthought this, and I have no idea what I’m talking about. But… what would you rather do?”

Subaru crossed his arms, muttering.
“…Honestly? I’d rather not waste hours searching just to find out it was under our noses all along.”

“Then we’re agreed!” Gojo declared, already turning back the way they’d come.

---

They made their way back down through the Library, descending toward the Fourth Floor—Alcyone—and back into Shaula’s self-proclaimed “dwelling area.”

“Okay, so…” Subaru turned on his heel, arms crossed. “Shaula, are there any secret places you’ve conveniently forgotten to tell us about?”

Shaula tilted her head, her smile as bright and oblivious as ever.
“Weeeell~ Since Master’s memory is kinda the worst, I guess I can help jog it! In Alcyone, there’s this room—my dwelling, right here—and then there’s also the Green Room!”

“The Green Room?” Gojo repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh~” she sang, then threw out an arm with theatrical flair, pointing dramatically to the side.

Subaru and Gojo followed her gesture—toward a green door. And not just “green”—it looked like a slice of some rainforest had been forcibly jammed into the sterile stone of the Watchtower. Moss caked the frame, ivy draped down in curtains, and tiny blooms peeked through the cracks. The door belonged in a jungle temple, not a magical monolith.

“Well, guess we’re exploring now...”
Gojo said, already on the move. With a firm shove, he pushed open the mossy door. Old cracks of moss groaned and flaked away as he stepped through, Subaru trailing behind.

Shaula, naturally, just plopped down into a chair where she was and kicked her feet.

The inside of the Green Room matched its name and then some. It was alive. Vines tangled across the floor, ferns unfurled along the walls, and the ceiling sagged beneath clusters of hanging greenery. It felt humid, almost like the room was breathing.

Subaru batted away a few strands hanging like curtains as he caught up to Gojo, who wandered ahead with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Mmm... this one’s not massive like the Library at least.” Gojo muttered, scanning the space. “And I’m not seeing any doors. Or signs. Or… anything.”

He pulled down his bandages, letting his Six Eyes go full throttle. His gaze swept the room, intense and calculated.

Nothing. No illusions. No doors. No tricks.

With a low sigh, Gojo shook his head, then turned to glance back at Subaru—and froze.

Tiny glimmering orbs floated all around Subaru, softly pulsing with gentle light.

“Spirits.” Gojo noted, brows raised. “Huh. They really like you.”

Subaru blinked and looked down at himself, confused—until he realized the burning throb in his forehead was… gone. The lingering aches from the Centaur trial faded like they were never there at all. A warmth surrounded him, gentle and calming.

The spirits ignored Gojo entirely. They clung to Subaru like bees to nectar.

“…Doesn’t that technically make you a spirit user too?” Gojo grinned. “Almost makes me jealous—almost—but I’m still me, so.”

Subaru scoffed. “Yeah yeah…”

He lifted one of the little orbs onto his finger like it was a soap bubble.

“I knew there were different types of spirits,” he muttered. “Guess these are lesser spirits… not as flashy as Beatrice back in the old library.”

Gojo blinked at the name. “Mmm. Wonder how she’s doing right now… since we kinda, y’know… nuked Roswaal’s mansion and garden into oblivion.”

Subaru just groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
“'We'?”

Not responding to Subaru, Gojo tied the bandages back over his eyes and gave one last sweep of the room before turning back toward the entrance.

“There’s nothing here. No secret stairway, no trapdoors, no hidden bullshit. If I don’t see it—believe me—it’s not here.”

Subaru nodded. He trusted Gojo’s eyes more than his own instincts at this point.

Back outside, Shaula stood up with a stretch that was far more showy of her chest than necessary.

“Weeell~ any luck?”

Gojo rolled his eyes.
“Nope.”

As Subaru and Shaula fell into another lighthearted exchange—complete with Shaula hugging a clearly overwhelmed Subaru—Gojo tuned them out, glancing to the side… and froze.

“…This wasn’t here before.”

“Huh?” Subaru noticed the shift in Gojo’s tone and turned.

Gojo walked away without answering at first, eyes narrowed toward a partially obscured corner beside the Green Room’s exterior wall—where, tucked almost behind a curved stone alcove, was a grand stairway ascending into darkness.

“You’re shitting me…” Gojo muttered.

“What?” Subaru followed, confusion turning to disbelief. “Wait… is that…?”

Gojo let out a long, annoyed sigh.
“Yup. The stairway. It’s right here. Just… sitting there.”

Subaru stared in silence for a moment.
“…We walked past this once before already.”

“Don’t remind me.” Gojo dragged a hand down his face again. “This place really was designed to drive us insane huh.”

Shaula poked her head over with a grin.
“Tehehe~ Told ya Master is a genius!”

Gojo shot her a look.
“You say genius, I say pain in the ass.”

Subaru just stepped toward the stairwell, letting out a long breath.

“…Second Floor: Electra, here we come I guess…”

---

The trio ascended the grand staircase—if you could even call it that. The stairway alone was the size of an entire room, the climb winding endlessly upward in a maddening spiral. Compared to the stairs they scaled before, this was just absurd. So much so, any rational person might wonder how something this enormous wasn’t visible from the outside of the Watchtower.

But rationality and magic had long since parted ways.

“Okay, so..” Gojo began, his voice echoing slightly in the stone stairwell, “I’m not usually the guy who says ‘we missed something obvious,’ but there’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed a giant gaping stairwell in that room before.”

Subaru nodded with a grunt.
“Yeah. It had to be hidden until the first trial was complete. No other explanation makes sense.”

Gojo leaned over toward Subaru with a grin.
“Still~ You’ve gotta admit, you’re real glad you listened to me, huh? If not, we’d still be crawling around that dusty old library like idiots.”

“Urgh… you’re so insufferable.” Subaru muttered.

“Anywaaay~” Gojo stretched lazily. “One trial down. We’re a third of the way through this freakshow!”

Subaru frowned at that.
“...Yeah. And that was the easiest one. It already pushed me to the brink of despair.”

Gojo shook his head, still walking with his hands in his pockets.
“C’mon. That last one was designed for someone like you. That’s why me and Shaula coasted through it while you struggled.”

Subaru sighed but let the comment pass. He couldn’t really argue with it.

After another long moment, Gojo’s brow furrowed. His footsteps slowed.
“This staircase… it’s not getting any closer. Let’s speed it up.”

With a quick step forward, Gojo suddenly surged upward, covering a dozen stairs at once in a blur—again and again—Subaru and Shaula following with less grace but just as much urgency.

Minutes passed like that—relentless running—before at last, the ceiling ahead opened into white light.

And then, they arrived to...

"…Another white room. Great…" Subaru muttered.

Gojo glanced around.
“No mirrors this time just yet at least.”

The new space was a carbon copy of the Third Floor’s trial chamber. Polished white floor, seamless ceiling, blank infinity stretching in all directions. It was eerily sterile, and infinite.

“It looks identical…” Subaru said, stepping forward, “but… we definitely climbed more steps than before. This has to be a different floor.”

He paused, gesturing ahead.

“Look—something new!”

A sword.

Simple. Sleek. No scabbard. Just a steel blade buried point-down into the polished white floor.

Gojo stepped up beside him, hands still in his pockets. Shaula bounced after them.
“Guess that’s how we start this trial.”

Subaru hesitated.
“Weeeellp—go on then!” Gojo gave him a light push with a grin on his face.

“Ugh—damn you—!”
He’d braced himself for resistance—muscles tensing, cursed energy running through his arm, ready for the stubborn pull of a weapon long-buried. Instead… the metal slid from the ground with barely any effort, like it had been waiting.

The blade came free easier than Subaru expected.

A deep crack splintered through the white floor, the sound echoing endlessly in the void.

And then—

An echo. Not from the ground, but from inside his skull.

‘—Gain his forgiveness, by hand of the Fool who has reached the Heavenly Sword.’

The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They sank in with a force that made Subaru’s teeth grit. His fingers tightened on the hilt without thinking.

He caught movement in the corner of his eye—Gojo’s posture straightening, head turning sharply toward… something. Shaula’s ears twitched once, then pinned flat out of confusion.

‘—Gain his forgiveness, by hand of the Fool who has reached the Heavenly Sword.’

The voice repeated, identical in tone, each word falling heavy like a ritual being chanted by something that didn’t understand the meaning.

A shape began to form in the distance. No footsteps. No sound of approach. Just there, like a shadow deciding to become a person. At first, it was featureless—nothing but a black silhouette against the endless white. But with every repetition of that same phrase, more details bled into being.

Long, flowing red hair. A length so wild it reached his waist, shifting faintly despite the still air. Eyes—sky blue, sharp and impossibly alive—burned from beneath the hair. Broad shoulders. A frame tall enough to meet Gojo’s gaze level, maybe even look down on him. Muscle, taut and ready, like every inch of him had been built for violence.

And draped over it all… a crimson kimono, the right side left open, baring a scarred chest and an eyepatch over one gleaming eye.

Subaru’s first thought was Reinhard. But no. Not Reinhard. The aura was different—less calm, less pure. This man didn’t radiate protection. He radiated danger instead.

A grin split the man’s face—sharp, wolfish. The kind a predator might wear when the hunt stops being necessity and becomes pleasure.

Gojo met that grin with one of his own, but his smile faltered as soon as he glanced at Shaula.

She was trembling.

Not shaking from cold—her breathing was ragged, shoulders curling inward, pupils wide in something far beyond discomfort.

“Haa… haa… no, no no, that’s not…” she whispered. One shaky step back, horror etched onto her normally so happy expression.

‘—Gain his forgiveness, by hand of the Fool who has reached the Heavenly Sword.’

The voice came again. Louder now, though the man’s lips barely moved.

Then… it began to warp, to falter, his stature creaking with each word that passes.

“...Gain… forgiveness… fool… heavenly sword…”

The even cadence broke apart. His tone twisted like it was being forced through a throat unaccustomed to speech.

“Urgh… forgiveness… grh…”

He jolted—head snapping back, fingers suddenly digging into his hair—and then the sound came.

A roar.

It wasn’t just loud—it was physical. A wave of force punched the air from Subaru’s lungs, the ground beneath him trembling like something massive had struck it. He tried to brace, arms coming up—but Shaula threw herself against him, clinging tight. The weight threw his balance, and they both went down.

“Urgh—!!”

“Master—masteeeer!! We—we have to run! I—I DON’T WANNA—!!”

Before Subaru could answer, a voice—dry, irritated—cut through the fading roar.

“Ugh… shut the hell up already, shit… My head’s killin’ me, so quit with the damn shoutin’!”

Shaula went limp instantly a heartbeat later, unconscious out of nothing more than just genuine fear.

What the hell could have Shaula of all people, that very same woman that utterly eviscerated something one-sidedly that Subaru himself couldn't even handle?

Gojo’s grin returned, wide, excited now. His tone almost teasing.
“It’s pretty obvious… the red hair, the attitude…”

He tilted his head.
“…Reid Astrea, is it?”

The man scoffed.
“Tch—who shittin’ else would I be? What, you a follower or somethin’? Tch… whatever. Kinda small fry, right? Pretty lookin’ though… charmin' face too… yeahhh.”

Gojo blinked, half-amused.
“Don’t really get what you’re on about, but you got one thing right at least—I am one hundred percent charming~”

Reid’s grin turned feral, laughter spilling out unrestrained.
“GYAHAAHAHAA!! I like you. You’re a funny guy!”

Then his head snapped toward Subaru, the mirth vanishing in an instant.
“Tch—Oi. You. The hell’re you doin’ bastard? Clingin’ to a hot woman like that right in front of me? You'll switch with me, yeah?”

Subaru didn’t answer right away.

He just stared at the man—at the way Reid’s sky-blue eyes bored into him with that impossible mix of amusement and challenge. His brows furrowed, breath slow and deliberate, as if weighing his next words.

“…Yeah, uh…” Subaru said finally, voice flat but steady.
“Gonna have to say no on that one. Out of respect for the person herself…”

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Subaru shifted—fingers finding Shaula’s limp shoulders and easing her off him. Well… easing might have been the intent.

The reality was… less graceful.

Her body flopped to the polished white ground with a muted thud, hair spilling in a wild tangle.

Her head bounced. Just slightly off the ground.

“Baaah?!”

The bark was so sudden, Subaru flinched momentarily.

“The hell you pullin’ that for y'bastard?!” Reid snapped, his tone dripping with the same outrage someone might have if a priceless relic was dropped on the floor.
“That’s no way to treat a beautiful woman, you shittin’ clown!”

Subaru winced, eyes flicking guiltily toward Shaula’s motionless form.
“…Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Reid just clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the still air, and turned away. His gaze wandered across the endless white around them, the lightless horizon stretching without end.

A crease formed between his brows less than a second later.
“…Ahhh. Yeah... I see now.”

The tone was casual—too casual, as though he’d just remembered he’d left his boots outside in the rain.

“Makes sense eh…” He went on, voice almost lazy. “I’m dead.”

Subaru’s grip tightened on the sword in his hand.

Reid rolled his neck once, vertebrae cracking audibly. The tension in his posture didn’t fade, but the grin that spread across his face made it somehow more dangerous.

“Righty, you. Let’s start this thing, then.”

Subaru didn’t need to think long to understand the trial’s meaning. Gain his forgiveness, by the hand of the Fool who had reached the Heavenly Sword. If this man was Reid Astrea, there was only one way for this whole thing to even go.

Gojo flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles one by one. Subaru shifted his stance—shoulders low, feet grounding into the strange, invisible surface beneath him. No words passed between them. The readiness was mutual, unspoken.

Across from them, Reid lifted his right arm. Slowly. Deliberately.

Light shimmered—soft at first, then sharpening—as a weapon began to take form in his grip. Its spirit-forged edge wavering faintly, like heat haze on a summer road.

It didn’t hum or glow with some grand hero’s aura. It growled—quietly, but with the kind of primal weight that momentarily made even Gojo's skin crawl, as if signaling danger was coming.

Reid set it casually against his shoulder, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence.

“Aye…” he drawled, letting the word hang for a moment before his grin deepened.
“I’m just a stick-swinger. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Y’hear?”

"The Trial of The Second Floor: Electra"

—Begin.

Chapter 36: The Fool Who Reached The Heavenly Sword.

There lives a swordsman who hungers for nothing less than perfection.

Not victory. Not fame. Not the hollow glory of countless battles.
No—his eyes are fixed on a summit far higher than any man-made dream.

The absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship.
A place beyond skill, beyond mastery—where the blade and the man holding it are no longer two separate things, but one.

He would not simply reach it.
He would shatter it.
And step into something greater still.

Perhaps… perhaps he is the man alive who has come the closest to that impossible height.
Closer, even, than the current Sword Saint himself—Reinhard van Astrea.

Cecilus Segmunt, the fastest man alive, trains without pause.
Every day. Every hour. Every moment not spent cutting is a moment wasted.
And yet… for all his speed, all his unmatched sharpness… even he feels it.

A ceiling.

A presence.

Something—someone—who stands in a place his blade cannot yet reach.

What kind of man lives there?
What kind of monster could already be standing at the top, waiting?

For Cecilus, the blade is an obsession—almost a sickness.
He breathes in its rhythm, sleeps in its shadow, bleeds in its name.
And yet he understands: no matter how far he runs, there is still a road ahead.

The path to the pinnacle is not a straight climb.
It twists. It vanishes. It forces him to through the unseen.

So then…
How does one improve when there is nothing left to improve?
How does one cut deeper when every cut is already perfect?

And more terrifying still—

Who has already reached that place?

The answer is not spoken often.
Not because it is unknown—
…but because speaking it aloud makes it real.

The Fool who reached the Heavenly Sword...

---

Reid Astrea grinned like a man who’d been waiting centuries for someone to entertain him. The spinning flash of steel tore through the air toward him—fast, lethal, inevitable.

“Hoh—?”

He didn’t dodge.
Didn’t even flinch, he merely grinned.

Instead, his leg rose in a sharp, effortless snap—not a block born from panic, but the kind of movement that came from knowing exactly where the weapon would be before it arrived. The sole of his foot slammed into the flat of the blade, stopping its momentum cold. A sharp clang rang out as he flicked his ankle, sending the weapon spiraling upward into the pale void above them.

Subaru was already moving.

Boots slamming against the invisible floor, teeth grit, blade raised—he closed the gap with every ounce of speed he could muster.

“C’mon! C’mon, you!” Reid barked, eyes lighting with manic joy. “All you gotta do—”

His grin widened until it was all teeth.
“—is make me move one step, y’hear?!”

An ebony blade shimmered into existence in Subaru's right hand, its edge drinking in the light around it. He didn’t hesitate—the black sword whistled through the air in a diagonal slash meant to bite across the man’s torso.

The strike was fast. Aggressive. Lethal.

Yet it never landed.

The movement that stopped it was so absurdly understated, Subaru’s brain almost refused to register it. Two slender chopsticks—held in one hand, in the casual, traditional grip of a man eating dinner—pinched his blade in place with an impossible level of force.

That was it.

Subaru strained, twisting, wrenching, trying to break free. The chopsticks didn’t even tremble. It was like his sword was caught in the grip of a mountain.

A frustrated snarl ripped from Subaru’s throat, and he snapped his knee up in a vicious kick.

Reid’s other leg shifted just slightly, the sole meeting Subaru’s shin with a brutal, hammering impact that reverberated through bone. Pain flared, and before Subaru could recover, the chopsticks twisted, parrying his blade down and away, and Reid’s elbow rocketed forward in the same motion.

The blow smashed into Subaru’s face like a battering ram. Stars burst behind his eyes.

He stumbled back, weapon still trapped in those damn chopsticks.

“Don’t look so surprised, you...” Reid said, his tone almost conversational—like they were discussing the weather. His grin never faltered.
“Ain’t the typa guy to cheat ya see, so these are just any ol’ ones you’d find hangin’ off a tree or somethin’.”

He gave the chopsticks a casual flick, finally releasing Subaru’s blade, then spun them between his fingers like a street performer twirling a coin.

“Hm—?”

Reid’s head tilted just slightly, his senses flaring like a predator catching the shift of wind before a strike.
Something dangerous was behind him.

He dropped instantly, a casual, yet incredibly swift ducking motion—and a foot sliced through the space where his skull had been, the kick ruffling strands of crimson hair as it passed overhead.

Gojo was there.

Still in motion, he twisted in midair, gravity bending under his control. That same foot came down in a vertical hammer-blow aimed square at Reid’s head.

“Gyahahahaa—!!”

The Sword Saint didn’t bother dodging.

His grin stayed fixed as the chopsticks in his hand snapped upward, catching the descending heel exactly at the moment of impact. The sound was sharp, final—like a door being slammed shut.

“—!? You gotta be kidding me—” Gojo hissed, feeling his own momentum halt against nothing but two sticks of wood.

Then Reid pushed.

The force rocketed through Gojo’s body, sending him skidding and flipping across the white void until his feet dug into the ground again. He barely had time to stabilize before he was already moving forward, twisting his torso, a tight hook arcing toward Reid’s jaw.

The blow never landed.

A breath... no, less than that—from contact, the air shimmered. Lines appeared on Gojo’s arm—not one, but a dozen, razor-thin slashes that cut straight through cloth and skin. His punch sailed past harmlessly, his own momentum carrying him clear as he disengaged.

Blood beaded and ran, dripping down onto the floor below. Gojo’s brow furrowed, his voice low.
That was with Infinity up… and he still cut me. How many people in this world can bypass it for god sake?

Reid didn’t even seem interested in Gojo’s surprise. He spun the chopsticks idly, turning away from the sorcerer entirely as Subaru rushed back into the fray.

Strike after strike came from the boy—desperate, rapid, wild. Reid parried them all without looking. Each deflection was almost lazy, a tilt of the wrist here, a flick there. His gaze wasn’t even on Subaru.

“Tsk… I ain’t interested in no shittin’ small fry, y’prick.”

TAP-

One chopstick tip kissed Subaru’s ribs—and the air detonated. The shockwave blasted through his entire frame, hurling him back like a ragdoll. His body hit the ground hard, and blood splattered against the pristine floor as he coughed and retched.

Reid exhaled through his nose, casual as ever.
“Nooow, where was I… ah, right—”

His arm swung lazily upward, chopstick carving through nothing—and reality itself split. The very light in the void tore apart like fabric, a jagged fissure yawning open before sealing shut again.

“I can cut anythin’ and everythin’.” He smiled, tapping one stick against the other. “Be it light itself… or whatever odd barrier y’got ‘round that pretty face o’ yours.”

One step forward, and the air shifted around him.
“Call me petty if you want… but I’m changin’ the rules a bit.”

His eyes flicked to Gojo.
“You gotta impress me to pass this.”

Without even turning, he jerked his chin toward Subaru, still wiping blood from his mouth.
“And he’s gotta make me take a step. You know, to dodge, to disengage. Doubt the 'lil shit has it in him what who cares?”

“Hmmm.. you got you ‘n the small fry. That little unconscious missy down there don’t count.”

Subaru’s voice came sharp from across the arena.
“How the hell is that fair?! Why do we have to do it individually?!”

Reid scoffed, like the question itself bored him.
“‘Caaause I fuckin’ said so, y’lil bastard. Stop bein’ such a damn pussy ‘n get up already. I coulda killed you then ‘n there if I felt like it.”

A shrug. A grin.
“But I’m feelin’ generous!”

Gojo smirked and stepped forward, sinking into a low stance—the wounds along his arm sealing shut in an instant, skin knitting smooth as if they’d never been there.

Reid’s brow arched.
“Mmmm… that little trick reminds me of—ehhh… who shittin’ cares?!”

His knee bent.
The next instant, he was gone.

A blur of crimson streaked across the white void—then impact. Chopsticks swept for Gojo’s neck with speed so clean it left a faint vacuum hiss in the air.

Gojo ducked low, body moving on instinct—but Reid was already twisting, his leg whipping around in a tight, brutal arc. The kick slammed into Gojo’s guard, the shock traveling up his arms like a battering ram. His heels tore lines across the floor as he skidded back.

Reid wasn’t much stronger.
He wasn’t much faster.
He was just better.

Gojo clicked his tongue, scarlet energy coiling into his palm, glowing between the cracks of his clenched fist. The moment he drove it forward, the strike was heavier—denser—than anything he’d thrown yet.

Reid’s body snapped low, chest brushing the air as Gojo’s fist ripped the space above him apart. In the same motion, his torso twisted—chopsticks flashing in a horizontal slash.

“Oh?”

A ripple of danger hit him from the side.

“Gurgh!?”
Gojo hacked up blood, jerking just enough to save his guts from being skewered. The chopsticks carved through his chest instead, punching clean out the other side before continuing their path—slicing Subaru’s incoming black pillar in half.

The darkness didn’t die. It split, then branched into countless writhing tendrils.

“Hoh—”
Reid’s grin twitched wider. He didn’t step back. The chopsticks blurred—not once, not a dozen times, but a hundred, each thrust so fast they blurred into a single shape. In less than a heartbeat, every tendril was shredded into drifting fragments.

A shadow loomed—Gojo’s foot slammed against Reid’s guard from the side, forcing him to stagger two steps across the void. He caught himself instantly, spinning back into stance.

The grin sharpened.
“Y’see… you—you’re a hell of a lot more entertainin’ than that small fry back there, thinkin’ he’s slick tryin' to catch ME off guard.”

Reid burst into laughter, head thrown back.
“Gyahahaha—!”

“You’ve not seen anything yet, former Sword Saint…” Gojo’s voice cut through the noise, his tone sharp, brows knitting beneath the blindfold. He leaned forward, sinking into a low stance—legs coiled, every muscle primed.

Then he moved.-

He wasn’t Reid’s equal in skill—not by a long shot—but Gojo’s precision, speed, and instinct were honed enough to overwhelm almost anyone else alive. When he decided to close a gap, it happened.

Because he was Satoru Gojo.

His first strike—a straight punch—ripped the air above Reid’s head. But Reid pivoted under it like smoke, the motion flowing into a palm thrust aimed squarely for Gojo’s gut.

It missed. Barely.

Gojo sidestepped, twisting into a rising kick aimed to take Reid’s head clean off.

A flash—Reid’s chopsticks reappeared as if they’d never left his grip. In the blink of an eye, they carved a web of deep lacerations across Gojo’s leg before the kick could even land. Gojo fell back, but not far enough—Reid’s vertical slash whistled upward, grazing along the side of his face.

Gojo’s hand snapped up, fingers forming the shape of a gun. A vermillion sphere bloomed at his fingertips, pulsing with lethal force.

“Red—!”

Reid didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t care.

The grin just stretched wider. As the blast screamed toward him, he flicked his wrist—one clean motion—and the chopsticks split the approaching Red in two. The cursed energy tore into diverging paths, screaming harmlessly around the first Sword Saint.

Gojo’s eyes widened behind the blindfold.

Impossible.

That shouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. His abilities weren’t something you could just fundamentally slice apart like any physical matter. Yet it had happened, right in front of his eyes.

Reid rolled his shoulder at the sight of Gojo's evident confusion., scratching at his chest through the open part of his red kimono.
“Gah. As I said before, y’dumbass—there ain’t nothin’ I can’t cut. Y'think I was fuckin' kidding back then or somethin'?”

Reid didn’t take a step. He couldn’t, not with Subaru on the attack. Instead, his spine bent backward in a grotesque ninety-degree arc, head tilted to stare at the endless white sky above. A spear of darkness screamed past where his skull had been—missing by a wide margin.

The weapon vanished before it even finished flying. Subaru was already there, bringing a heel down from overhead like an executioner’s axe.

Reid caught it with one hand. Effortless.

“Y’gotta understand, small fry, I ain’t—”

His words broke as something flickered in his vision—right from under Subaru’s boot. Darkness burst forth at point-blank range, a spike lancing toward his face.

Reid’s neck snapped to the side, the spear brushing past, before his hand clamped down on Subaru’s ankle. One twist, one pull—and Subaru’s world turned upside down. The next moment he was airborne, hurled like a ragdoll straight at Gojo.

Gojo intercepted cleanly, catching Subaru by the collar before setting him on unsteady feet.
“Argh… thanks, Gojo-sensei…”

Reid’s expression flattened.
“Tsk. Tut tut tut… at this rate, neither of y’are passin’ this trial at this rate…”

The shift in tone was followed by a wave of pure killing intent. It slammed into them like a collapsing ocean. Subaru’s lungs locked; his body forgot how to breathe. He dropped to his knees, hacking and clawing for air. Gojo’s brow twitched beneath the blindfold.

Then Gojo’s hands clasped together.
“Maximum Output—Blue!”

The colossal sphere roared forward, dragging the world into it. Reid bent his knees and vaulted into the air—toward the attack with a wild grin on his face. His body twisted mid-flight, chopsticks flashing, and the Blue split apart in two perfect halves that screamed past him harmlessly as he descended.

He came down like a meteor. The wooden sticks slammed into Gojo’s crossed forearms, digging deep enough to draw blood before Reid ripped them back and approached once more.

He pressed the assault. Each motion faster than the last, flickers of wood swiping like razors, never relenting. Every dodge from Gojo was a near-death—a crimson nick across the cheek, a tear along his sleeve, a slice that carved too close to tendon.

There’s no openings whatsoever…!
His teeth clenched as he stepped and evaded to the best of his abilities.
It’s like fighting a meaner, nastier Reinhard!

A single step back—
And space warped beneath his heel. Crimson light erupted upward, detonating between them.

The blast blew smoke and debris sky-high. Reid was already out of it, bursting forward, weaving around each fresh Blue hurled his way before he fully closed in, twisting his body into a spinning kick—

—and Infinity was severed cleanly through.

Not a blade. Not even steel. Just sheer force and unrivalled skill, cleaving along Gojo’s legs like they were paper with slashing and brute force combined, the impact launching him off the ground into a spin.

“Hrk—!” Blood spat from Gojo’s lips, hot and bitter.

He crashed onto the floor with a brutal thud. Reid’s boot slammed down onto his chest, the force squeezing the air from his lungs in a savage, unrelenting grip. Gojo’s spine arched painfully against the sterile white ground.

Reid exhaled slowly, his cold blue eyes boring down into the Sorcerer trapped beneath him.

“...Not impressed.”

His heel pressed deeper, the pressure not just weight but a suffocating presence—an unyielding certainty that no matter what Gojo tried, it wouldn’t change a thing. Maybe it wouldn’t. But Gojo smiled through the crushing weight, teeth clenched, eyes sharp.

Reid’s brow twitched, curiosity flickering behind his icy gaze.

“Hrr... fuck're you smilin' abo—”

Gojo’s hands twitched—almost too slight to notice.

At this close, Infinity was useless. Reid had shredded it before.

So Gojo didn’t fight it.

The air shifted around them—not with a blast, but a pull. Like an invisible force clawing everything toward Gojo’s chest, the gravity of Blue swelling, condensing into a singularity.

Reid’s stance wavered, just the barest hint of imbalance.

Gojo’s right hand flickered, fingers curling into wide open palms before clapping together. The vermilion flare of Red ignited instantly—and then, impossibly, it layered over Blue.

They screamed together.

Hollow Technique: Purple.

No time to parry. No space to dodge.

The sphere bloomed at point-blank range, a ravenous orb consuming all void between them.

BOOM—!

A searing light swallowed them whole. A shockwave tore through the endless white space, shaking the very air.

Subaru flinched, shielding his face as the roaring void crashed down.

When the brilliance faded, Gojo knelt, one hand gouged into the scorched floor. His uniform hung in tatters, bandages shredded and fluttering, revealing the cerulean blue orbs lingering beneath. But the grin on his bloodied face was defiant—pain and pride mingling.

Reid stood several meters away, unscathed but marked.

A faint black scorch stained his kimono; a shallow cut traced his cheek. His hair smoked faintly.

And he was laughing.

“Gyahahaha—! Now that was somethin', you sly bastard!” He jabbed a finger at Gojo. “Didn’t think you’d blow yourself up like that just to land a hit!”

The grin faded, replaced by a nod of reluctant respect.

“Bah... fuck it... I am a man of my words so you can go sit off to the side 'n twiddle yer thumbs or somethin', consider me a little impressed, you.”

Gojo exhaled heavily and pushed himself upright, giving one look to Subaru before dragging Shaula along with him.

“Alright then... small fry’s turn, huh? You got any more tricks? Or just that fancy black shit of yours, you?”

Reid’s smirk deepened, now barehanded. The chopsticks had been eviscerated by Purple—but that was meaningless. Reid had been the sword itself this entire time, wielding a blade was nothing more than a way of amusement and simply not needed.

Subaru’s stomach churned. The clash he’d just watched had been barely within his ability to follow—and Gojo’s last attack, the one that could have erased Subaru entirely, had left Reid almost untouched. Laughing.

Even so, Subaru lunged forward, cursed energy flooding his limbs. His fist shot out in a clean jab toward Reid’s face.

“Haa… listen here—”

Reid tilted his head at the last instant, letting the punch pass by a whisper.

“You’re boring, you. This again? Did seein’ stars not clue you in that rushin’ me is stupid as hell, you prick?”

He didn’t counter. He didn’t need to. He simply stood there, parrying every hook, jab, and kick with mechanical precision. It was like fighting something inhuman. Every movement Subaru made was read, dissected, and nullified before it could matter.

CRACK—

Subaru’s head snapped back, blood trailing from his nose. He staggered, blinking, unsure what had even hit him.

By the time he realized, Reid was already there—closing the gap quicker than sound could register. His bare hand sliced upward like a blade, aiming to split Subaru open.

Subaru twisted away, replying with a desperate hook that skimmed inches from Reid’s cheek. Reid simply leaned back, balancing effortlessly on one foot—then whipped the other upward in a blur, hooking Subaru’s chin and launching him into the air.

The boy twisted mid-flight, landing hard and shaking his head to banish the haze.

“Urgh… I can return by—hrkk!”

The cursed energy roared hotter in his veins, burning through his body. He blurred forward again, faster this time—

Reid’s nose wrinkled.
“Tch. That stink—fuckin’ disgusting…”

His palm caught Subaru’s punch like it was nothing despite being stronger. His elbow slammed into Subaru’s face a heartbeat later, snapping him backward—then a barefoot drove deep into his ribs. The sharp crack of bone carried through the white void as Subaru was flung across the space.

Reid was already there when Subaru’s tumbling body reached its arc, twisting into a kick that could have folded him in half—

A black wall erupted from the ground, shielding Subaru on instinct.

Reid’s brows lifted, then drew together in mild annoyance.
“Y’not get me or somethin’?”

He shifted his angle of attack slightly—and his bare foot sliced through the barrier like wet paper, smashing into Subaru’s side and sending him rolling. He coughed blood across the pale floor.

“Listen, you. I can cut light—”
“—The opposite won’t make a damn difference, you prick.”

Gojo watched with a frown, brows knitting in quiet unease.

Reid is still holding back massively… but at this rate, there’s no way Subaru can make him retreat eitherway. Not with how he’s fighting right now.

Subaru was doubled over, hacking and retching gastric acid and blood onto the pristine floor—a pitiful mess—yet he still forced himself upright, swaying like a dying candle flame.

“I can return by—rhk!”

Pressure built inside him, a boiling surge that made his eyes go wide.

“I can… return by—hagk!!”

Blood streamed from his tear ducts. And still, he stepped forward. Then sprinted.

No, charged. Like a rabid dog.

Reid tilted his head, smirk curling. The speed was new, noticeable.
“Hoh?!”

An onyx blade bloomed in Subaru’s grip, its edge cloaked in swirling miasma and cursed energy.

“Bah—your sword skills are lousy as hell, you—”

In Reid’s hand, a stick appeared from nowhere. He met Subaru’s slash in a clash that flared for just a moment before his weapon slid downward, parrying the blade aside with lazy precision. His leg whipped around in a roundhouse for Subaru’s face—

Subaru narrowly ducked under it, surging up with a rising swing.
“Hraagh!”

Reid caught the full-powered strike on his stick with insulting ease. The black blade wrenched from Subaru’s grip and sent hurtling through the air before dissipating into nothing.

“Tsck, tsck… stop tryin’ to be somethin’ you ain’t. A sword ain’t for everyone—and clearly, it ain’t for you.”

Crude, but true. Subaru had no real swordsmanship just yet—only raw power duct-taped into rookie-levels of technique that most half-decent knights could dismantle if not for the strength difference.

“Rhh… you!!”
His snarl warped into something feral as his hands erupted into talons—purple claws of cursed energy—slashing in a storm toward Reid. The swordsman ghosted around them with lazy precision, though one strike grazed close enough to shear several crimson strands from his head.

Reid’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His stick swept down in a perfect vertical arc toward Subaru’s centerline—Instinct roared. Subaru dropped low, knees folding before he sprang back, landing on all fours like some cornered beast. His head jerked up, legs tensing.

Then he pounced.

A kick—parried with a flick of the stick.
Another—parried.
Again—parried.

He barely touched the floor before his leg retracted and his claws came forward in a savage rake.  Subaru let out a screamed of wrath and rage, aiming to carve Reid in two.

“Bah—stop fuckin’ yellin, you tryin’ to give me a headache, y’bastard?!”

Reid’s stick twitched once—splitting the cursed energy itself. The claws shattered like glass and vanished despite his overwhelming negative emotions kindling them like flame, vanishing mid-swipe. Subaru’s pupils shrank—not with fear, but with a surge of blind, boiling rage.

“Rhh… I.. CAN RETUR—”

“Subaru!!”

Gojo’s voice cut through the haze. Subaru’s head snapped toward him.

Satoru shook his head once.

Subaru froze. Memory struck—back to the mansion, back to Elsa—back to when pushing his body like this nearly killed him, Pride or no Pride. He didn’t have it in him now. He never should have been doing this. And yet he had to be reminded… by someone who couldn’t even remember what happened.

What a fool I am, huh?

“How boring, you.”
Reid suddenly said, stepping forward—and his leg shot out like a guillotine.

The kick caved into Subaru’s side, a bone-crunching impact that lifted him off his feet and sent him spinning through the air. His limp body hit the ground near Gojo’s boots.

Reid dropped into a cross-legged seat, yawning before resting his fist on the side of his face.
“Whatever. You get as many tries as y’want for this trial anyway. The small fry’s gonna need a shit-ton if he wants to pass. He’s outta his depth with people like us—hell, he shouldn’t even’ve been invited—”

“Shut the hell up.”

Reid blinked.
“Gah?! What you—the hell you say you?!”

Gojo crouched, scooping up Subaru with one arm and Shaula with the other. His jaw was tight, his voice flat.
“Subaru’s gonna pass this trial. That I can promise, Reid Astrea.”

Reid’s tongue clicked.
“Tsck tsck tsck… That borin’ guy? You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, you…”

Gojo turned away, heading for the exit without another word.

Reid sighed as the sorcerer vanished from view, muttering under his breath.
“I prefer 'Stick Swinger' anyway. Tsck.”

---

The Green Room door creaked open with a lazy kick from Gojo’s foot. He stepped inside, setting Subaru down gently—right as the boy groaned awake from the trip down the absurdly long staircase to floor four: Alcyone.

Shaula was lowered next, still unconscious—though Gojo suspected that was much less “injury” and more “terror-induced shutdown.”

The lesser spirits wasted no time rushing over Subaru, threads of warmth knitting into his battered body. Gojo crouched nearby, sighing.

“Well… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this outcome coming…” he said casually.

Subaru grunted, shifting upright despite the sting in his ribs.
“Yeah, yeah… I know. But what else could I do? I went all-in and couldn’t even scratch him.”

Gojo chuckled.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly do thaaaat much better…”

He smirked faintly, then shrugged.
“It’s annoying being under someone’s foot like that… but I’ll take my small win for nuking us both and actually landing a hit. Even if it didn’t do much in the end.”

Subaru only shrugged back, eyes trailing toward the ground as he lets out a sigh.
“Is it over then?”

“Ahh.. nah… Reid probably would've just killed you if we had only one attempt for this trial. That's why we're out here, and I'm not fighting for my life still inside of the trial room.” Gojo replied with a flick of his wrist.

Subaru's gaze flicked back toward Gojo.
“…So now what? He knows everything I can—”

Gojo pressed a finger to Subaru’s lips.
“Tsk. You don’t have to beat him. You just need to play the game differently. The Subaru I know wouldn't try to brute force through someone ten levels above him—he'd play smart instead.”

He grinned.
“After all… it’s just one step to victory.”

Flick!

The hit to his forehead made Subaru flinch—not yelp. His hand rose to his chin instead, gears already turning.

Pride is my biggest card besides Return by Death… but I’ve only been using it for shadows and darkness. There’s another usage of it I’ve been ignoring 'cause I just can't understand it.

He clicked his tongue.

When Pride used it, eye contact made people completely unable to touch him. Not like a barrier, but like his gaze altered the trajectory of any attack that came it's way. Even Reinhard had to attack from the flank instead. But…

Images of Reid slicing through Gojo’s supposedly unstoppable attacks flashed through his mind.

“No… he’d just cut through it. Like everything else.”

If not that… then maybe—

“GAAAAAH!!”

Shaula shot upright, spinning into wild martial arts strikes before bouncing back on her heels.

“Uh… you good?” Gojo asked.

“Ah—yep! Totally fine! Where the heck—oh!”

She froze at the sight of Subaru’s condition.
“Gahhh! What the hell happened to Master~?!”

“Tsck… maybe if someone hadn’t passed out at first sight of—” Subaru started.

“Wh-what?! I would never faint from fear on such a serious occasion! Are you trying to make this tender maiden cry?!”

Gojo just sighed.
“Yeah, well, it happened. Subaru even bonked your head off the floor.”

“Hey, that was an accident—!”
Subaru growled, sitting up before pain forced him back down.

Gojo leaned forward, smirking.
“Let’s jog your memory, Shaula. A silhouette appeared in the white room—fiery red kimono, crimson hair… blue eyes—”

Shaula shrieked, instantly leaping toward Subaru's body on the ground, as if a reflexive reaction—only to be caught by her cape and plopped back down.

“W-w-WHY is that guy here?! This is bad, real bad!! I told you he was freaking unkillable!”

Gojo glanced at Subaru, whose blank stare made it clear he had not been told.

“Reid! The Stick Swinger!! That demon, that monster, that… thing! He’s come back hundreds of years later to fondle my chest again—!”

Reid Astrea. The most skilled swordsman in history—slayer of Witchbeasts, master duelists, Dragons, and even Witches themselves. His existence alone forged the Astrea family name into what it is today, and he alone reached the Heavenly Sword. Four centuries ago, he stood toe-to-toe with the Witch of Envy herself, and could hold his own.

A man in form. A monster in truth.

Subaru exhaled slowly.
“…What is it with that family pumping out walking cheat codes? Never thought I'd say this but he’s gotta be on par with Reinhard… right?”

He glanced at Gojo—after all, Reinhard was his knight, and the two often quite sparred.

Gojo tilted his head.
“Well… I'm inclined to believe Reid held back when we fought, but still pushed me hard. Reinhard’s done the same. Neither went all out, so…” He shrugged. “Hard to say.”

He frowned.
“What is weird… is that Reid’s even here. Why would he be part of the watchtower’s trials?”

Neither Subaru nor Shaula had an answer.

Gojo sighed.
“And he didn’t seem to know Shaula despite ehh, her 'trauma'… but he was definitely alive.. if not that then sentient at least I suppose. If I had to guess—maybe this 'version' of him is before when you'd have met?” He gestured to Shaula.

“Best theory we’ve got I guess…” Subaru said.
“But… is this even possible for me? When you two fought, I could barely follow your movements. If he decides to go even slightly serious on me, I’m just bound to get my ass kicked for a second time.”

Gojo thought for a moment. “…Then I guess you just… get lucky?”

“Great plan Gojo-sensei…” Subaru said flatly. “Luck against that guy? Genius.”

Gojo leaned toward Shaula.
“Anything you can give us about him? Weaknesses? Habits?”

Shaula growled.
“That guy was human garbage!!”

“Yeah, got that part already, saw it in action too…” Gojo said. “We need something we can actually use.”

She crossed her arms, thinking.
“Hmm… oh! After doing something—like groping me, or in this case beating you up—he’d always scratch his chest!”

“…That’s useless.” Subaru deadpanned.

“Gah! Your words cut me deeply, Master~! Okay, fine errrr—he’s a total FREAK for women. That’s aaaall I’ve got…”

Gojo smirked, eyes sliding toward Subaru.
“Well… if we had a wig, you could totally—”

“Urgh—” Subaru shuddered. “I’d rather rot here for eternity than—”

“Wahh… forever with me, Master~?” Shaula’s eyes sparkled.

“Back to the serious note…” Subaru said, shaking his head.
“I might have… something. But I can only try it once. And I don’t know if it’ll even work.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Well… I’ve got nothing better. Hit me with the plan Subaru!”

Chapter 37: Envy and The Heavenly Sword.

“Haaah…”
Gojo exhaled loudly, leaning back in his chair until it balanced dangerously on its hind legs. His gaze drifted up toward the ceiling, frown etched deep.

“If I knew I’d be stuck in this place for… who knows how long… I would’ve brought food. Maybe even that Otto guy, well he'd probably hate me if I told him we were in the Pleiades Watchtower.”

Subaru tilted his head. “Otto?”

“Mmm? Oh—what, you know him?”

“Ahhh…” Subaru scratched the back of his head. “Nah, I don’t. But… now that you mention it, I’m starving. And thirsty.”

“Mmm~” Shaula hummed, pressing herself against Subaru’s arm, her fingers lazily entwining around it. “If it’s water you want, there’s a source beyond the tower~ Of course, for someone like him—” she nodded toward Gojo “—it wouldn’t take long to fetch~”

“There is? But… isn’t this all desert?” Subaru asked, brow raised.

“Well~ yeah, but I’m talking about the Great Waterfall, silly~”

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “…Wouldn’t that mean we’d have to leave the tower? Pretty sure that’s a big ‘no’.”

Shaula giggled, swaying slightly. “I’m kiddiiiing~ It’s just the little spirits back in the Green Room. They can make water—fresh, clean. You might need a bucket though~”

“At least we won’t die of thirst… but food…” Subaru muttered.

Gojo smirked. “Those spirits are real handy, huh? Think they can whip up a steak?”

“Ummmmmm…” Shaula pursed her lips. “If by steak you mean meat… nope~ And that wouldn’t make any sense anyway. You really are an idiot, huh~?”

“Tch. Walked straight into that one…” Gojo sighed, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers on the table. “But seriously—food. Shaula, don’t tell me you’ve got nothing lying around for guests.”

“Mmmm~ nope.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you? You eat too, right?” Subaru asked, baffled.

Gojo just shrugged. “She’s not exactly human. Probably doesn’t need food.”

“Eh? Not human? How would you—ah… right. ‘Special eyes.’” Subaru muttered, rolling his own. “…So what is she then?”

Shaula leaned back with a mischievous grin, still clutching Subaru’s arm.
“Ehhhh~ Master, master~ Isn’t it ooooobvious?”

Both Gojo and Subaru just stared, completely unmoved.

Without warning, Shaula flicked her ponytail with theatrical flair.

“…Your… ponytail?” Gojo deadpanned.

“Ugh— I get why master’s clueless, he's real old~ but you, Gojo? You’re supposed to be sharp! Idiots, the both of you!” Shaula pouted, a vein throbbing on Gojo’s forehead as he opened his mouth—only for her to cut him off.

“It’s a scorpion tail~”

Subaru blinked. “A scorpion tail.”

“Mhm!”

“…So… you’re a scorpion?”

“Ugh… whatever—moving on from this conversation, Subaru.” Gojo leaned forward, the humor draining from his tone. “We’ve gotta get a move on with this trial. I’m not fond of starvation, and living off water alone… yeah, that’s not gonna cut it for more than a few days.”

“…So that’s a few days to beat Reid… and whatever the third trial is supposed to be…” Subaru muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Crap.”

Shaula piped up in her usual singsong.
“Well~ I actually do need to eat too, so you don’t have to worry about starving~ Food is food, after all… I just eat whatever I kill~”

Subaru stared at her, deadpan.
“You… wait. Don’t tell me you mean those Centaur witchbeasts you completely obliterated before?”

She grinned, arms folding with pride, and nodded enthusiastically.

Gojo looked at her in disbelief. He would have asked how she stayed sane after hundreds of years here… but clearly, she hadn’t.

“…That’s it. That’s our motivation to finish these trials.” Gojo turned to Subaru with the most serious, unblinking stare he’d ever given anyone. “You have to do this. Because if you fail… we eat what Shaula eats.”

Subaru swallowed hard.
“Understood! But… even if we did… wouldn’t all the miasma corrupt the meat or something?”

Shaula raised a finger like she was giving a lecture.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s poisonous~ It just tastes reaaaaaally funky~ but soooo disgusting you actually get addicted to eating it!”

“That makes no sense!?” Subaru exploded.

---

But before the conversation could spiral further, his gaze drifted to the horizon, the sun already dipping past the edge of the world.

“…I should probably take a nap. I’m wiped.”

“Sure then...” Gojo said casually. “I’ll wake you later.”

Subaru found an area that seemed… passable for comfort, curled on his side, and shut his eyes.

It wasn’t physical exhaustion—thanks to the Green Room’s spirits, he felt better physically than he had literally ever. But mentally… that was another story. Elsa. Two Archbishops. The Sanctuary. Reinhard.

Again. And again. And again.

Even now, the weight clung to him, whispering at the edge of his sanity. Back then, he’d truly felt nothing—just a raw, impossible desire to kill Reinhard, no matter how futile the idea of it might've been.

And then there was the loneliness.

Yes, Gojo was here—hell, he’d been at Subaru’s side more than anyone since arriving—but that wasn’t the kind of 'alone' he meant.

Return by Death. The power to defy fate… at the cost of bearing every death, every loss, utterly alone.

Did those timelines he abandoned continue without him in it? Or was it true time reversal, erasing them completely?

Questions without answers. Questions that could shatter his entire worldview if answered.

And with those thoughts still gnawing at him, darkness pulled him under.

---

Gojo glanced at Subaru’s sleeping form, then sighed quietly. His gaze shifted to Shaula—no smile, no playful teasing, just her eyes lowered to the floor.

“Shaula.”

Her head tilted slightly, brow raising. “Mmm~ what is it?”

“You’ve never thought about leaving this place? Four hundred years… that’s when Reid was alive, right? So you’ve been isolated here that long. Why stay?”

For the briefest moment, sadness flickered in her gaze before she smiled again.
“’Cause master told me to~ so I listened. And it worked out! Master came back to me again!”

Gojo leaned forward slightly.
“Then… if he told you to leave with us, could you?”

“Hmm… not until the trials are done~” She chimed. “If I try to leave with you before that—or if either of you try—I’d just… become a killing machine until you’re both dead. Or I am~”

Her smile softened.
“But that’ll never happen. Master dying is impossible after all~”

“…And you’d lose all sense of self until it was over.” Gojo said quietly.

He frowned. He could survive her attacks—Infinity or RCT would make sure of that—but killing her? That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that neither he nor Subaru wanted to.

The idea of entering this tower, only to end it by killing someone trapped here for four centuries… it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Gojo shook his head. “Then we just clear all three trials. We were gonna anyway… but now we’ve got an extra reason I guess.”

Shaula’s eyes went wide for a moment.
“…Huh?”

“That way, you get to see your master again, properly, right?”

Her grin returned a moment later, sharp and teasing as always.
“Wooooow~ are you reaaaally flirting with master’s apprentice? I get it, I get it! mhm~ I am sexy Shaula, after all~”

“Ugh… you just had to ruin it, huh?” Gojo muttered, walking over to his own spot near Subaru and lying down.

And before long, the darkness claimed him, too.

---

He raised a hand—graceful, deliberate—speaking in a voice so smug, so measured, it felt like it scraped against reality itself.

“Ah. Excellent. I’m glad someone here still has the decency for manners. Far too many rush forward like beasts, no trace of etiquette whatsoever. But you—” his golden eyes locked onto Gojo’s, “—you asked. That alone puts you leagues above the drooling masses I’ve come to expect.”

A shallow, practiced bow.

“And so, in accordance with the natural laws of mutual respect, it would be unjust of me not to answer you.”

A hand to his chest, the smile never wavering.

“Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult. Representing Greed… Regulus Corneas.”

---

Gojo’s grin widened—then broke into full-blown, unrestrained laughter.

“Keh-hehe… BAAHAHAHA!!”

Regulus’s expression soured instantly.

“Oh? Is that desperation I hear?” His voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “Or is it delusion?”

---

A crimson spark flickered to life at Gojo’s fingertip.

“Reversal Red.”

---

In a blur, he seized his own collar, twisting his body as his fist plummeted like a meteor.

“—BLACK FLASH!!”

---

“You sick bastard...” Gojo snarled as his strike connected—Petelgeuse’s face caving under the blow, his body rocketing across the cavern and smashing into the far wall with an ear-splitting crash.

Chains snapped and fell as Gojo tore them from Subaru, tossing them aside. His gaze landed on Rem’s broken form, his chest tightening with fury and disgust.

“Rem!!” Subaru fell to her side, trembling as he cradled her fragile frame.

Her breath was weak. Her voice, barely there.
“Please… live… I—I love you… Subaru…”

But the moment was torn apart by the sound of something dragging itself free from the rubble.

Petelgeuse staggered back into view—his face mangled beyond recognition, one eye hanging loose, his nose twisted into something unhuman.

“HOW?! HOWHOWHOW?! IT IS INCONCEIVABLE! MY BRAIN… MY BRAIN TREMBLES SO VERYVERYVERYYYY MUCH—! YOU… HOW IS IT YOU ARE UNAFFECTED BY THE UNSEEN HANDS?!”

Before Subaru could respond, another voice cut in, colder than ice.

“…You have truly outraged me beyond all reason. You trampled over my rights—my mercy—only to attack me like a mindless beast.”

Regulus stepped from the darkness, unscathed, the debris that had buried him just moments before seemingly irrelevant.

---

Gojo’s gaze sharpened. “Imaginary Technique…”

Reality bent. A sphere of swirling violet energy erupted outward, devouring all it touched. Space twisted and folded—matter simply ceased to exist.

'Hollow Purple.'

The cave tore apart, split clean down the middle. A jagged fissure ripped up through the ceiling, flooding the darkness with daylight.

When the dust cleared, only one figure stood.

Regulus Corneas.

Unmoving. Untouched. Hovering calmly over a void where the ground had once been.

Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti… gone. Not a trace.

But then—sharp pain tore through Gojo’s lower-half. Burning. But swift. His vision darkened under the sudden weight of realization.

“…Damn it…”

Death hit him like a freight train.

---

His eyes snapped open. Air rushed into his lungs in a desperate gasp, the same ceiling as before staring back at him.

That… felt real.

Gojo reached for his blindfold—then froze at the faint, unexpected weight against his side. A slow glance down revealed Subaru, arm draped limply over him, fingers twitching like he was chasing something in a dream.

“Tch—the hell? Get off me…” Gojo shoved the arm aside with little ceremony, fishing the bandages from his pocket and looping them over his eyes in one smooth motion.

He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders until the joints popped.
Just a dream. Freakishly real, sure—but this world already had things that blurred the line between reality and nightmare.

Still… a small wince tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“But why the hell would I dream of Regulus of all people? This place is messing with my head. Dying to him? Please. Guy couldn’t throw a proper punch without a monologue first.”

He let the thought burn out before it could spiral, forcing his mind forward. One sweep of the room confirmed Subaru was still out cold and Shaula was... probably off doing something inexplicable.

“…Guess I’ll go exploring again until Sleeping Beauty wakes up.”

The hushed quiet of the third-floor library—Taygeta—swallowed his footsteps as he stepped inside. It was the kind of silence that pressed in on your ears, making every breath sound too loud. Rows of ancient shelves stood like sentinels, and Gojo trailed his bare hand along the wooden shelf holding the books up, careful not to brush any bindings.

No. Not touching them. Having an entire life forcibly dumped into his head once was enough.

At least… that’s what he told himself.

His thoughts wandered anyway.

Reid’s trial… Subaru. The guy had guts, no question. He’d pulled off wins that shouldn’t have been possible for him at the time, and hell, he’d even surprised me a few times with flashes of insight sharper than they had any right to be. B ut beating Reid? Even if it was just one step, even if that was all it took for Subaru to win...

“I’m not one to be a believer in the impossible.” he murmured. “But that’s pushing it… unless he's hiding some secret special power that I somehow don't know about.”

He rounded another row—then stopped, questioning if what his six eyes just saw were lying to him or not.

Two slow steps back.

Head tilted.

There it was.

A single book among thousands. Black leather binding, unadorned spine. Ordinary—until you read the name stamped there in small, neat lettering.

Natsuki Subaru.

“…What?”

The rule about not touching the books evaporated in an instant.

His hand hovered inches from the cover.

Could it be him?
Another Subaru from somewhere else?
No way the odds are that high… right? Japanese names weren’t exactly something you stumbled across in this world.

The silence deepened around him. Even the dust in the air seemed to hang still.

“I can take a little peek… it can’t actually be him…” he muttered, voice low like the shelves themselves might overhear.

Fingers curled toward the book.

And the air seemed to change—just enough to make him wonder if the library was holding its breath, as if the very fabric of reality was warning Gojo that he was about to make a mistake.

---

Subaru’s eyes shot open. A long yawn escaped as he sat up, scratching at his stomach. His gaze swept the room—empty, save for him.

“…Huh. Guess Gojo’s off doing whatever again. And Shaula… probably killing some more of those Centaur things for fun...”

He stretched, joints cracking.
“Thinking about it, I probably should’ve just slept in the Green Room… but crashing in a moss-covered greenhouse is just weird.”

Pouring himself a cup of fresh water from the spirits’ bucket, he drained it in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“This is gonna get boring fast…”

Scratching the back of his head, Subaru’s eyes wandered toward the nearest window. Beyond the glass, the endless desert sprawled to the horizon—its sands scarred with colossal gashes and craters, remnants of Pride’s clash with Reinhard. They seemed impossibly far away, almost like scars carved into another world entirely.

He tore his gaze away and started down the hall, closing his eyes to focus.
Gojo… where are you?

A faint thread of presence brushed his senses.
“…Nearby. Another floor… fourth? No—third. The library.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, turning right.
“Haahh… boredom’s getting to him for sure. It’s getting to me too. Should I just take the trial again? …I’ve got a few ideas this time.”

His lips twitched into a frown.
“…Or I could eat Shaula’s centaur cooking—”

THUD!

CRACK!!

The sounds struck in the same instant.
The ceiling just ahead of him caved in, vomiting marble, dust, and debris into the hall. Instinct kicked in—he staggered back, eyes wide.

But then… the presence.
That suffocating, unmistakable weight.

“Gojo—!?”

Through the haze, something tumbled toward him. A leg—Gojo’s leg—hit the ground with a sickening wet thud, crimson pooling thick beneath it.

“…Sensei—?”

The dust thinned, revealing a sight that punched the air from Subaru’s lungs. Gojo’s body hung in the air like a grotesque puppet, black and purple tendrils spearing through him from every direction, branching outward like the roots of some nightmarish tree.

Blood streamed from the stumps where his leg and arm should’ve been.
But worse—his eyes were already lifeless.

What could kill Satoru Gojo?
No—what could kill him that fast?

The air crushed in around Subaru, a gravitational pressure warping reality itself. His knees buckled—yet he stayed upright, his gaze locked on the horrific tableau.

And then…

The tendrils tightened, dragging Gojo’s corpse into the void. It disappeared without trace—flesh, blood, and bone erased from existence—while the walls, floor, and ceiling dripped red with what remained.

“A-Ahh…!?”

“I love you…”

The voice was soft. Feminine. Sweet—and utterly wrong. A heartbeat later, the tendrils lashed out—not at him, but at the tower itself, carving deep gashes into its interior and shredding the surrounding walls like paper.

From the swirling dark, she emerged.

Satella. The Witch of Envy.

The darkness clung to her like liquid, sliding over her body, carrying her forward with an unnatural grace.

“I love you…”

W-Why…? Why is SHE here?!

The Witch. The one who almost destroyed the world. A possible source of the darkness Subaru carried in himself—only hers was immeasurable in comparison. His was a shadow of a shadow, an insect before an elephant. Even Pride’s oppressive skill with the power was nothing compared to this.

“…No… no no no no…”

Satella moved.

One moment she was a dozen paces away—the next, her cold palms cradled Subaru’s face. As cold as the times they gripped his heart. The darkness unraveled from her, spilling toward him, about to swallow him whole.

“I love you… I love you… I love you… I love y—”

FWOOSH—!

For a single heartbeat, the world flashed white. A piercing line of light blasted straight through Satella’s head, bursting it apart in a spray of blackened liquid before slamming into the floor beside Subaru.

The needle still hummed faintly where it had embedded itself in the stone.

Shaula, the Starkeeper of the Tower, blurred into motion. Her legs scissored through the air, her heel slamming into Satella’s headless—but impossibly still upright—body. The impact made the darkness shiver, but didn’t knock her down. Shaula landed in a skid beside Subaru, brows furrowed, a frown on her face.

“Master… this is bad…”
Her voice was stripped of its usual playful sing-song. Not fear, exactly—something more dangerous. Urgency.

Subaru’s head shook on instinct, but his mind was splintering.

Gojo just died. Instantly. What the hell can we do against that? Is there even a point in—

“Master—!”

Shaula’s shout ripped him back. Her hand flared, a blazing lance of white light—Hell’s Snipe—tearing into an approaching tendril. It blew apart in a shower of black mist, but the shadow only surged stronger, tenfold, and collapsed toward them like an ocean wave breaking overhead.

The world shook—then a different light flashed.

Purple ripped through the darkness, Subaru’s fist splitting the wave clean down the middle like the Red Sea, cursed energy hissing off his skin. The shadows peeled back, writhing away before evaporating.

No hesitation—they ran.

Boots hammered marble, the hall twisting left, then right. Darkness smashed into walls behind them, chunks of stone screaming as they were pulled into nothingness.

“I-It worked!”
Subaru’s breath was ragged, his body tight with adrenaline. Another corner, another turn—and then the fork. Up to the trial floor, or down. No time to think.

The choice was made for him.

“Uhrghk—!!?”

A tendril whipped around his shin, yanking him off his feet and into the air. The pull was instantaneous—relentless—as if the darkness itself wanted to drag him into its stomach, he bent to try and pry himself free, but there was no time.

“Master!?”

Shaula’s body twisted mid-step. She pivoted hard, hand raised to aim.
“Hell’s Snipe!”

The white blast punched clean through the tendril that held Subaru, severing it just as another wave surged from Satella's body. Shaula danced between them, every step tight and calculated, her eyes never leaving Subaru as she closed the gap.

He hit the ground running, pumping his legs. His fists punched through any tendril that darted toward him—but they felt different. Unlike the ones going for Shaula, these didn’t aim to kill. They were pulling, herding him.

“—!”
Shaula hissed through her teeth, her side suddenly opening in a deep slash. Blood ran hot down her hip. She didn’t falter. Another Hell’s Snipe cracked out of her hand before she leapt back, catching Subaru by the shoulder and yanking him with her.

The Witch of Envy was done playing it seemed.

The floor beneath them darkened, ankle-deep, then shin-deep, the liquid shadow boiling upward.

A spike of darkness punched through Shaula’s solar plexus. Her breath caught—sharp and silent—but she grinned through clenched teeth. In the same motion, she twisted, hurled Subaru toward the stairs with a force that rattled his bones.

“Master~ you do what you think is right! ’Cause it always is, right~!”

The darkness swallowed her before Subaru even hit the landing.

He didn’t look back.
Couldn’t.

His legs were machines, pounding the steps. Up, up, up. His chest was on fire, his breath tearing through his throat.

“No… I should just—kill myself. Start over. There’s no point, not without Gojo-sensei and…”

The thought had barely formed when his foot hit smooth white flooring.

The vast room stretched empty—except for a lone figure in crimson sat in the center of the empty vastness.

Reid Astrea.

“The fuck’re you doin’, small fry…? You wastin’ my time? Lookin’ pathetic. Why’re you lookin’ so pathetic you? It’s pissin’ me the he—”

Reid’s eyes twitched, his head turning sharply. His stance shifted. The white room bled black, darkness spilling in from every direction like ink on paper, utterly encompassing, drowning the light in darkness.

“Hrrr… the fuck is this? Feels familiar for some reason… the hell have you done, you?”

“What—!? How the shit would I have—”

“Heh. Good fuckin’ point, small fry—hrn!?”
A tendril suddenly shot toward him, -fast. Reid sidestepped with almost lazy precision, twisting on his heel. The slash of his stick split the shadow in two—only for the split ends to multiply a hundredfold and lash out toward him.

Reid grinned like a madman as he raised his stick to his side.
“NOW THIS, IS INTERESTIN'!!”

The room exploded into motion. Crimson arcs blurred through the air, Reid carving through the darkness with impossible speed and physical prowess that Subaru's mind couldn't even comprehend. The tendrils responded like a hivemind, multiplying, swarming—hundreds becoming thousands.

Every clash sent shockwaves ripping the air apart, flinging Subaru like a ragdoll until cursed energy wrapped around his body, anchoring him.

“Gahhhk—!”

He had to get out.
This wasn’t his fight. It wasn’t anyone’s fight.

He ran—
Or at least, he thought he was running.

The air itself was a weapon now. A stray shockwave slammed into his cursed energy reinforcement, the impact cracking against his ribs and blasting him sideways. He tumbled across marble, coughing blood, before clawing his way back upright.

A lance of darkness shrieked over his head, close enough to singe hair. For a split second, Reid’s crimson blur flashed past—there, then gone, as if he’d never existed at all.

All I have to do is make it to the stairway. Just the stairway. Then I can—

The black floor erupted to his left—
The black wall imploded to his right—
A whip of black slammed down where he’d been standing a heartbeat ago, splitting the darkness below like butter before it refilled the space a flash later.

Reid’s laugh barked somewhere in the haze—wild, exhilarated.
“Y'gotta be faster than that, witch!”

Then came the red flash, a slicing arc that sheared through a dozen tendrils in a single swing. Satella didn’t flinch. The wounds closed in the same breath they were made, shadows knitting themselves like flesh.

The room stopped feeling like a room. It became a warzone—no up, no down, only blinding movement and deafening collisions.

A wave of darkness slammed toward him. He braced—only for it to bend, curling around him like a snake before snapping shut from behind. He hurled himself forward, but his body was too slow, too heavy compared to the monsters fighting around him.

A thunderclap of impact rattled the air, and Reid’s voice was suddenly behind him—
“Move it, small fry you—unless you wanna end up mulch! Not that I really give a shit though, you!”

Before Subaru could even turn, the Sword Saint was gone again, his crimson kimono carving a wide spiral through the swarm. The spiral collapsed almost instantly, darkness surging inward like a collapsing star. The resulting pull nearly tore Subaru off his feet, dragging him toward the center of the clash.

"HYAAAHK!"
Reid’s roar split the air—raw, primal—before his form blurred into a hurricane of crimson. He twisted through the tidal wave of tendrils, every step a blur of footwork that carved spirals into the marble. Blades of wind slashed outward in wild arcs, each one cleaving a dozen tendrils at once, spraying them into black mist.

The witch’s darkness closed in around him in a hundred directions, yet Reid moved like water, slipping through the smallest gaps, each motion faster, sharper, louder—steel tearing air.

Then, with a sudden, vicious pivot—he sought the opening and lunged.

SHLKKKK—!!

The stick drove through her stomach, the force blasting a crater through the darkness beneath their feet. For the barest instant, her body seemed to shudder—then his grip shifted, and with a brutal heave, he tore the blade upward, splitting her in two from hip to shoulder.

He didn’t pause.

The second slash came before her halves even had the chance to seperate—then another, another and another, again and again and again—each one blinding, tearing through her form like paper. The air cracked and wailed under the relentless onslaught, each blow shaking the Tower to its roots.

Her body was a smear of black ichor and unraveling shadow, yet the darkness always closed over the wounds, knitting her together mid-strike.

The cost showed in blood—his blood.

A slash grazed his side—
Another carved deep into his arm—
A tendril swept in from behind, severing one of his limbs with a wet snap before it flew through the air.

But the Sword Saint didn’t falter. If anything, he moved faster, he grinned wildly, his blade screaming in the air with each swing.

Red and black clashed in a ceaseless, grinding deadlock. Neither yielded, neither slowed—two otherworldly forces locked in a rhythm so violent it became almost soundless, each strike swallowing the noise of the one before.

Subaru could only watch from where he’d fallen, the fight stretching into something inhuman—less a battle, more an unending collision of will and raw power. His lungs burned, his ears rang, his cursed energy strained to keep his bones from shattering. Every step toward the stairway was erased by another collision.

He saw only fragments:
Reid vanishing and reappearing faster than thought.
Satella’s shadows spearing into the ground, the walls, the air.
Shockwaves peeling skin from his arms and breaking bone.
The marble melting into a black sludge that rose ankle-deep, then knee-deep.

Somewhere in the chaos, his path to the stairs simply… stopped existing. The far wall was gone—replaced by an endless horizon of writhing black tendrils.

He froze—not from choice, but because his body was locked in place by sheer, suffocating pressure. The clash above him was too much for his mind to process; even his thoughts were shaking apart.

Then, after dozens of minutes of sheer anarchy, the battle reignited after four hundred years was silent once more.

Reid Astrea was simply gone.

Satella stood alone in the wreckage, her form a patchwork of deep cuts and gashes, each one knitting shut like the tide swallowing footprints in the sand.

Subaru found himself slumped against a wall of darkness—if it was even a wall—blood matting his hair. His breaths were short, wet. His ribs ground against one another inside his chest, each inhale stabbing deeper into torn organs.

Still—he forced his head to rise.

Only to meet her gaze.

Satella was leaning forward, close enough that her breath should’ve brushed against his skin—if she breathed at all. Both of her hands cupped his cheeks, pale fingers cold as death, locking him in place. Her head tilted ever so slightly, and the pitch-black ocean behind her folded inward, swirling, swallowing, drowning them both.

The world fell away.

It was replaced by a kaleidoscope of agony—moments flashing faster than thought. Things that had happened. Things that shouldn’t have happened. Timelines buried and erased, yet preserved perfectly in the void.

"I love you."

The deaths.

"I love you."

The tragedies.

"I love you."

The torment.

"I love you."

Every scream, every broken body, every moment he had clawed and fought and bled only to lose it all in the end—shoved into his mind at once. The weight pressed on his chest until it felt like his ribs would splinter.

It never ends.

Just make it stop—
just make it stop—
just make it stop—
just make it stop—

"...I am... s-sorry..."

The voice cracked—no longer that hollow, mechanical confession. Softer now. Fragile.

Through the black haze, a shape emerged. Long, snow-white hair flowing like silk in water. Eyes—deep, amethyst purple—glistening with tears that ran unchecked down her cheeks.

This wasn’t the devouring shadow. This wasn’t the thing that tore Gojo apart like paper.

This was the girl. The one he’d made a promise to. The one trapped beneath a curse she could never escape. A person who had been beaten down by misfortune over and over again, just like him.

Only difference was—he had people to stand beside him. She never had.

His grip tightened.

From his palm, Pride’s Authority bled into existence—a dagger, jagged and cruel, formed of pure night. Fingers laced tight around the hilt. He raised it, the tip hovering over the soft flesh of his own throat.

"I’ll say it as many times… as it takes…" His voice shook, but his eyes burned. "I.. will.. save you."

Her eyes widened.

"--!!"

SHLNKK—!!

A single, wet sound tore through his throat.

The world turned to black.

Natsuki Subaru died once more.

Notes:

Last chapter for a little while, probably almost two weeks, so I wanted to make the last a bang.
Reid vs Satella, bet that was a fight nobody had on their bingo-cards!

Chapter 38: Return by Death.

Subaru’s eyes shot open, his whole body jerking upright as if jolted from drowning. Air tore into his lungs in ragged gasps, his pupils pinpricks against the endless ceiling above.

The memories hit all at once.

Gojo’s death.
Shaula’s demise.
The battle between Reid and the Witch of Envy—an apocalyptic storm of red and black that Subaru couldn’t even exist inside. He wasn’t a participant; he wasn’t even an observer. He was less than dust in that clash.

And yet, through all the horror, one thing stood out.

The Witch of Envy.

“…Why… why did she appear…? That only happens if someone learns about Return by Death…!” Subaru muttered to himself, his mind spinning faster than his breath.

His chest tightened. There was only one explanation. Gojo.
He had been in the library just before everything went to hell. The library of the dead. The books that recorded lives, fates, endings.

Then that could only mean one thing...

…My deaths. Every single one. They’re all in there…

Subaru’s stomach turned, eyes widening in realization. No—no, it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was one thing.

Stopping Gojo from opening that book.

---

Satoru Gojo's thoughts wandered as he strolled through the Library.

Reid’s trial… Subaru.  The guy had guts, no question. He’d pulled off wins that shouldn’t have been possible for him at the time, and hell, he’d even surprised me a few times with flashes of insight sharper than they had any right to be. B ut beating Reid?  Even if it was just one step, even if that was all it took for Subaru to win...

“I’m not one to be a believer in the impossible.” he murmured. “But that’s pushing it… unless he's hiding some secret special power that I somehow don't know about.”

He rounded another row—then stopped, questioning if what his six eyes just saw were lying to him or not.

Two slow steps back.

Head tilted.

There it was.

A single book among thousands. Black leather binding, unadorned spine. Ordinary—until you read the name stamped there in small, neat lettering.

Natsuki Subaru.

“…What?”

The rule about not touching the books evaporated in an instant.

His hand hovered inches from the cover.

Could it be him?
Another Subaru from somewhere else?
No way the odds are that high… right? Japanese names weren’t exactly something you stumbled across in this world.

The silence deepened around him. Even the dust in the air seemed to hang still.

“I can take a little peek… it can’t actually be him…” he muttered, voice low like the shelves themselves might overhear.

Gojo’s fingers hovered just inches away from the black-leather spine, the name etched along it plain as day: Natsuki Subaru.

“GOJO-SENSEI!!” Subaru’s voice cracked with raw fear as he bolted across the floor.

Gojo’s hand stilled mid-reach. He turned, bandages shifting as his head cocked slightly. “Hm? What’s got you all worked up?”

“You can’t—” Subaru panted, clutching at his knees before forcing himself upright. “You can’t touch that book. No matter what.”

One brow arched beneath the blindfold. “And why’s that, Subaru?” His tone was light, but there was an edge to it— “It’s got your name on it. A Japanese name, no less. First one I’ve seen in this world that isn’t mine. You’re telling me I shouldn’t take a peek?”

He stepped forward, the casual weight in his stance shifting into something heavier. Measured. His words pressed down with each step:

“Why… Natsuki Subaru… are you here? Where books that tell the stories of the dead are shelved?”

Subaru froze, lips parting but no sound coming out.

Because… I can Return by Death. Because every time I die, I come back. Because that damn curse makes me walk through hell again and again.

His nails bit into his palms.

“…I can’t tell you.” he whispered.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The air itself seemed to still—like the library was leaning in to hear the answer.

Gojo straightened slowly, but the easy grin never came. Instead, his head tilted the slightest degree, bandaged eyes narrowing behind the cloth. His voice dropped low, and though it wasn’t loud, it carried a pressure that weighed on Subaru’s chest like gravity.

“…Can’t, huh?” Gojo’s tone was too calm. Too sharp. “Not won’t. Can’t, interesting wording right there.”

Subaru stumbled back half a step, throat dry. His body screamed to collapse under the weight of Gojo’s presence—but he forced himself to stand. Forced the words out, even as his voice cracked.

“Just… trust me, Gojo-sensei. If you read that book, something awful will happen. Worse than anything you’ve seen in both worlds. I swear it.”

For a long moment, Gojo didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His very stillness was terrifying.

Then, finally, he exhaled—a quiet huff of air that might’ve been amusement.

“…Alright.” He stepped back, tension melting into nonchalance once more. “I won’t read it. Only because you’ve never been the type to downplay something this serious.”

His lips quirked in the faintest ghost of a smile.
“But you’re gonna owe me an explanation someday, Subaru...”

Watching Gojo finally turn away from the shelves, Subaru let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief washed through him—until his eyes flicked back to the black-bound book. It sat there like a curse incarnate, quietly daring him to look again. He tore his gaze away and jogged after Gojo.

---

“Mmm~! Dinner is served!”

Shaula’s singsong voice nearly made Subaru jump. With a proud flourish, she dropped a slab of raw meat—bloody, bone-in, and very much unidentifiable—onto the table in front of them.

The thud echoed through the walls of Shuala's quarters.

Gojo stared at it in utter silence, expression unreadable.

Subaru, on the other hand, recoiled like it might crawl off the plate.
“Wh-wh-what the hell is this supposed to be?! We’re not wild beasts! We can’t just gnaw on a—on a—whatever that came from!”

Gojo’s lips twitched, his blank face sinking into a frown. He leaned back in his chair, balancing effortlessly on the hind legs, eyes hidden but clearly bored.
“...Guess I could try cooking. Might burn a few things at first, but give me a week and I’ll be a five-star chef.”

Subaru scowled, snapping back instantly.
“Tsck—way to flex that ego, huh?”

Then, as if struck by divine inspiration, he puffed out his chest, struck his signature 'Natsuki Subaru' pose, and declared with shining eyes:
“No need to fear! I, Natsuki Subaru, shall cook the finest feast of mystery meat this world has ever seen!”

There was a pause.

Then Gojo doubled over, slapping the table so hard it rattled. Laughter poured out of him, muffled by his blindfold already wet with tears.
“PFFFT—GYAHHAHAHA! You!? You cooking?! What’s next, you gonna tell me you can make something besides instant noodles?!”

A vein bulged across Subaru’s forehead. His hand lashed out to smack Gojo’s smug face—only to halt, caught against Infinity. His teeth ground audibly.
“Grghh—! Just you wait, you smug bastard!”

Snatching the meat by the bone, Subaru spun dramatically on his heel, shouting back over his shoulder:
“I’ll prove it! You’ll be begging for seconds when I’m done!”

Gojo wiped a tear from under the blindfold, grinning like a kid at a circus.
“Sure, sure. Knock yourself out, Chef Subaru. Just… don’t knock me out with food poisoning.”

---

Subaru stormed toward the small kitchen nook Taygeta had provided—no firewood, no oil, not even utensils—just bare essentials. He dropped the massive hunk of raw meat onto the counter with a slam, muttering through clenched teeth.

“You think I can’t cook? I’ll show you cooking. I’ll show you cuisine.”

Gojo leaned back further in his chair, arms folded behind his head, grin plastered wide.
“Yeah, yeah. This world hasn't got a microwave yet by the way!”

Shaula tilted her head, blinking innocently as she glanced between them.
“...So, should I tell you where I got that meat from or just let you find out later?”

Both Subaru and Gojo froze.

“No.” They said in unison.

Subaru whipped his head back toward the counter, eyes twitching. “Focus. Just… focus.”

He rummaged through the sparse supplies, managing to scrape together some salt, incredibly dried up herbs, and an incredibly rusted pan. He sparked a flame, balancing the meat over it with as much dignity as he could muster. His movements were stiff at first, then practiced—clearly, he had infact done this before.

Gojo, of course, didn’t shut up.
“Oooh, look at that form! Dude has real chef energy right there. You sure you didn’t lie about being a total shut in? Cuz last I checked, gamers don’t know the difference between a ladle and a spatula.”

“Shut! Up!” Subaru barked, flipping the meat with more force than necessary. The sizzling filled the air, fat popping against the metal pan.

Shaula sniffed curiously. “Mmm~ smells yummy!…”

Subaru smirked, wiping sweat from his brow.
“See? I told you. I’m an experienced cook! I’m not just some spoiled rich kid who can buy anything he wants!”

“Hey.” Gojo raised a hand like a student asking a question.
“Spoiled and handsome, thank you very much.”

That was the last straw—Subaru whirled on him, knife in hand, pointing dramatically.
“One word out of you and I’ll serve you up medium-rare instead!”

Gojo’s laughter rattled the room, bouncing off the library walls. And yet, when Subaru finally set the browned, seasoned meat down on a plate, there was no laughter in the silence that followed.

Gojo leaned forward, chopsticks in hand (where he even got them, nobody knew), and plucked a piece free. He chewed slowly, smirk fading into something unreadable, before he frowned.

“…Well, uh… I guess spices can only do so much huh..”

Shaula lit up instantly, chomping down her own piece with a squeal.
“Master~! This is reaaaally yummy!”

Subaru puffed up, arms crossing smugly.
“Heh. Told you. Throw me to a whole other world and I'm still a five-star chef!”

Gojo wiped his mouth, lips twitching into a frown.
“Yeah, but Shaula’s been living on raw mystery meat for four centuries. I’m not sure her palate qualifies as valid. Honestly… tastes less like food and more like… uh… indescribable ropey gunk.”

“—What?!” Subaru jolted forward, stabbing the fork into the slab and tearing off a bite-sized piece. He chewed once. Twice.
“Urgh… crap.”

Gojo sighed, dropping his chopsticks onto the table.
“I mean… it’s edible. Barely. But if this is dinner every night, you'd better beat that Sword Saint fast—or we’re stuck with sewage meat for eternity.”

Shaula tilted her head, beaming.
“Mhhh~ I dunnoooo… I think I could eat this forever!”

“Tch. Of course you could!” Gojo muttered. “We saw what you lived on before.” His gaze slid sideways, sharp behind the blindfold.
“But speaking of Reid… Subaru. You actually got something?”

Subaru’s grin faltered. He stared at the fork in his hand, then set it down.
“...Yeah. A few ideas. But one of them… I’m not sure I can do it yet. Might have to hope he doesn’t kill me before I figure it out though.”

---

The clash of fists and feet cracked through the endless white expanse.

A crimson blur darted under Subaru’s kick, countering with a crushing strike to his ribs that launched him skidding across the ground.

“Tsck, tsck…” Reid clicked his tongue, lazily flossing his teeth with his chopstick before scratching his chest. “Still not even a step closer, you. What’ve you been doin’? Wastin’ days with that fine woman of yours, eh?”

“Hfftt… hfft…” Subaru pushed himself up, breath ragged. The hit was brutal, but not overwhelming. Reid was actually underestimating just how much his body could handle—and that alone gave him a sliver of hope.

“Well… all or nothing.” He inhaled deeply, then whispered the taboo, 'Return by Death' three times over.

The words scraped his sanity raw, but his body surged with cursed power, purple energy leaking like venom. Subaru slammed a foot down.

“—SHAMAK!!”

Dark smoke exploded across the battlefield, swallowing everything in pitch black. A gamble. A memory of his fight with Julius. He just had to hope the outcome would be different.

Reid only scoffed.
“Hrn… this trick... some magic right... you? Fine. Let’s play.”

He closed his eyes, standing perfectly still.

Three strides. That’s all Subaru needed to close the gap. He spun, fist cocked back, and roared as he threw his strike like a cannon through the void.

A palm snapped up, catching his fist and blasting the Shamak apart like it was nothing.

Reid’s eyes opened. Sharp. Unwavering. Beyond superhuman.

Subaru’s breath caught. He hadn’t just reacted—he felt it coming, the fist punching through the air.

From the sidelines, Gojo’s eyes narrowed. “… Mmmm, reminds me of something I'd heard back at the Gojo clan...” He folded his arms, voice dropping. “A thingamajig uhh... Heavenly.. Restriction... something like that, involving the Zenin Clan... guess this guy is similar in a way, sacrificing one thing for an extra buff in another..”

“... Is that how it works?” Gojo muttered.

Reid’s counter was swift, and slammed into Subaru’s chest, sending him tumbling back, gasping and hacking for air.

“You didn’t do bad this time.” Gojo’s voice was flat, but his gaze lingered on Reid, sharper than before. “Closer, even. He keeps underestimating you. Probably pride. But… for just a second? I saw it. Surprise. He didn’t expect you to get that close that quick.”

Subaru coughed, forcing himself upright with Gojo’s help.
“Yeah… I saw it too.”

Reid scoffed, dropping to the ground cross-legged, flicking his hand as if swatting away a fly.
“Bah. Don’t flatter yourself, you. I ain’t underestimatin’ shit—I just know limits when I see ’em. Now piss off, come back when you’ve got another little trick you.”

Subaru clenched his fists, glaring past the pain.
“I’ll make you move. I swear I will.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you.” Reid scratched his chest, yawning. “Don’t waste my damn time.”

---

Days blurred into one another.

Subaru rose, ate what could only generously be called food, and faced Reid Astrea—again.

Every strike met the same wall. Every maneuver shredded by Reid’s impossible speed and precision. Subaru felt like he was running in place, yet somehow bleeding with every step. Gojo lounged nearby—or rather, watched with a meticulous eye, occasionally sipping water.

Shaula perched on the railing above, arms crossed, a grin plastered to her face.
“Master~! You’re doing soooo well! Ooooh, I truuuly wish I could fight alongside you! Maybe I would if it wasn't him though...”

Subaru ducked beneath a spinning red blade, grit in his teeth.

Reid pivoted in that same spot, crimson kimono flaring like fire, slicing through a wave of black-tendrils before rotating further with his palm firing forth. Subaru barely noticed the strike approaching from the corner of his vision, and the force sent him skidding, reinforced cursed energy barely keeping his body intact.

Gojo leaned forward, fingers interlaced, silently observing.
“Okay… watch closely. He’s literally treating you like a bug. This is how this crappy guy fights. Everything you think you can do, he’s already three steps ahead. Everything.”

Subaru wiped a smear of blood from his lip, glancing toward Gojo.
“Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, but I kinda already realized that after getting my ass kicked so many times.“

Shaula smiled, twirling a strand of her hair.
“Ahhh~ don’t worry about it, master! You’ve got style! You’ve got pizzazz! You’ve got—”

A lightning-fast strike from Reid shattered the floor beneath them, snapping Shaula’s attention back. The white arc of wind surged toward Subaru, forcing him into a sprint. He rolled through the shockwave, bones screaming, reinforced energy screaming louder, before he was hurtled once more across the white scape.

“Arghhh!”

Gojo’s voice was calm, almost clinical.
“See? You survived, you can go on like this pretty much forever because of your busted amount of cursed energy, Good!”

Subaru scrambled upright, adrenaline spiking as he raced forward again. Each strike, each dodge, each barely-missed swipe was another lesson. The red blur of Reid’s movements became hypnotic, almost unbearable. Even with his cursed energy flaring, Subaru felt tiny—an ant in a storm.

Shaula clapped from above.
“Look at him go, master! Come on kick his ass!”

Reid stopped mid-spin, frowning.
“You think dodging this many times matters? Hrn… small fry, you’re shittin' laughable when you struggle...”

And then it all repeated—again.

Strike. Dodge. Roll. Impact. Cursed energy flares. Pain sears. Bones scream. Reid advances. Subaru retreats. A blur of crimson and black. Each loss another retry. Gojo observing, occasionally noting where Subaru’s instincts were improving, where his weaknesses still gaped open.

Hours passed—no, days. Time was meaningless. Each loop pushed Subaru closer to exhaustion, closer to the breaking point. His body ached, his ribs felt like shattered wood, his muscles screamed—but he adapted. Learned. Reacted. Lived.

Gojo’s voice cut through the haze.
“Not bad Subaru! Getting your ass kicked so many times is actually doing wonders!”

Finally—finally—Subaru caught a fleeting glimpse of a crack in Reid’s timing. He forced himself forward, every ounce of cursed energy focused into a single flaring strike. But even then, Reid pivoted, avoiding and countering with such perfection it almost broke Subaru’s mind.

Shaula groaned in mock despair.
“Ohhh~ master, you aaaalmost had him! You almost~!”

And still—Subaru lived.

And still—he got back up, knowing that each repetition brought him closer to understanding, closer to beating the impossible.

Gojo’s smirk widened.
“That’s the difference between you and almost any other person... you don't give up, you won't give up.”

Subaru glared forward, bloodied, battered, lungs burning, chest heaving.
“Damn it… one day… one day, I’ll get you for this Reid...”

Shaula cheered.
“And I’ll be there to watch at a safe distance, master~!”

---

The loop continued, the cycle of blood, failure, and stubborn resolve stretching on—but with each iteration, Subaru continued becoming sharper. Meals of cooked mystery sewage-meat, fights ending in Subaru being pummeled across the white wasteland, and Reid Astrea still untouchable.

Gojo was annoyed—but he couldn’t blame the guy. Honestly? He was impressed.

Reid wasn’t just some fighter. He was the hero of heroes—the first Sword Saint, the man who fought the Witch head-on and stopped the world’s collapse. And Subaru? He hadn’t even logged a full year of actual combat training, much less mastered cursed energy. The fact he could stand against Reid at all was nothing short of prodigious.

Maybe even more of a prodigy than Gojo himself.

…Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

With a sigh, Gojo hefted a bucket of water from the ivy-choked Green Room, batting away a few nosy spirits with lazy swats before making his way back.

Infinite retries. That was their one saving grace. But even with that… how long could Reid keep playing along before his patience just snapped? Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard eventually stopped holding back and killed Subaru outright out of sheer annoyance.

He set the bucket down on a counter and strolled toward Subaru, who was deep in meditation.

A quick kick to the boy’s side made Subaru jolt, hissing in pain.
“Tsck—what the hell was that for?!”

“You don’t need to keep meditating like that, you know...” Gojo said, hands in his pockets. “At the level you’re at now, it’s pretty much useless.”

Subaru blinked up at him, confused, while Gojo tilted his head, studying him.

“Honestly? If this were Earth, you’d already qualify as a Special Grade sorcerer. Especially with that weird voodoo thing you do that just spikes your cursed energy.”

Subaru leaned back. “Special grade?”

“Mhm. Same rank I had. Suguru too. And some older lady I never met—uh, what was her name… Tsukomo? Tsunomo? Whatever. She was supposedly strong too, but lazy.” Gojo shrugged.

Subaru rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly.
“I dunno if I should be classified like that. I’m still waaaay weaker than you are…”

Gojo smirked.
“Well, duh. But that’s not the point. There’s always gaps, even among special grades. Take Suguru, for example—I was still a level above him thanks to the Limitless. He hated admitting it, said Infinity was basically cheating.”

He grinned.
“Wouldn’t even spar with me unless I promised to turn it off.”

Subaru rolled his eyes.
“Can’t really blame him. Being literally untouchable does sound like cheating…”

Gojo snapped his fingers, smirk widening.
“Tell that to Reinhard. Or Regulus. One’s basically a walking hacker, the other’s just immortal for literally no reason but can't fight for crap.”

Subaru drifted his gaze aside, as if to ponder momentarily.
“What classifies someone as a Special Grade? Is it just how strong they are?”

Gojo tilted his head and let out a hum, a hand on his chin as he went back through his memories.
“I'm pretty sure it's if we'd be able to take out an entire country or not... I wouldn't be surprised if there some tough ass Grade Ones or unclassified guys who could've been Special Grade strength-wise but never had the chance just 'cause they couldn't survive a nuke.”

Subaru deadpanned.
“Um.. I definitely couldn't either for the record...”

With a chuckle, Gojo continued.
“Well yeah, but you're weird. Freakishly smart sometimes that it has even me a bit confused, so it'd probably never even come down to a nuke from just your brains alone.”

“... I feel like you're definitely overestimating me here.”

Gojo raised a brow.
“Am I...? Subaru?”

Subaru just shrugged, shaking his head as he slowly rose to his feet. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck, eyes scanning the room—Shaula’s quarters.

“You seen Shaula anywhere? She’s usually glued to me like… some kind of shadow...” he muttered, frowning. “Kinda weird not having her clinging to my side.”

Gojo’s voice cut through, calm but sharp.
“I don’t sense her fully either.”

Subaru blinked, brow furrowed. “Huh? How can you not sense her? She’s practically… I don’t know… an extension of this place most of the time.”

Gojo half-pulled off his blindfold, letting his cerulean eyes sweep over the room in an instant. Every nook, every shadow seemed to pass under his gaze.
“Odd… Normally, I can feel everyone in this tower. Even you when you’re trying to sneak around that library—I could always sense you both. But her? Nothing now.”

Subaru coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice sharpened with frustration.
“Alright… cut the bullshit, Gojo-sensei... Where the hell is she?”

Gojo’s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes traced the walls again.
“Mmmm… I really dunno.”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, save for Subaru’s heavy breaths. Something about the way Gojo said it… something’s off.

Subaru’s instincts prickled. He moved toward the doorway, hand tightening on the edge as he peered into the hallway beyond.
“Not a shadow, not a trace… that’s… impossible.”

Gojo leaned back slightly, slinging his arms over the chair’s backrest, golden eyes narrowing.
“Exactly. And when Shaula disappears without a trace, it's probably gonna mean trouble, that or she's just chilling in some secret room or something.”

Subaru’s stomach twisted. Something deep in his chest tightened. The tower had been unpredictable enough, but now? Even Shaula, that constant companion that was glued to his side, could vanish like she was never there.

He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the floor and ceiling simultaneously.
“Alright… let’s see if we can’t fix this before whatever she’s gotten into blows up in our faces.”

Gojo smirked, though it didn’t reach the weight behind his eyes.
“Finally, you’re thinking like a survivor. Just… be ready. If she’s gone this quietly… it probably won’t be simple.”

Subaru swallowed hard, taking the first cautious step into the corridor. The search had begun!

---

They moved together as a party, Gojo didn't exactly want to leave Subaru alone if there was someone who could kill Shaula like that.  The tower’s halls felt wrong, Shaula’s absence bled into every room until it was a physical ache.

“Left...” Gojo said once, voice low. He still kept the bandages over his eyes, but his posture sharpened. “These eyes see everything... something like habits are easy to remember.”

Subaru didn’t argue. He followed, chest tight, steps rapid. They moved up flight after flight, the tower spiraling higher, the deeper they went the colder the air grew.

They already checked the Green Room. Empty. They swept the study alcoves. Quiet. They called her name and let the sound bounce back, unnatural and hollow. Time stretched onward.

At a narrow landing between floors—a little platform that looked down into a shaft of light—Subaru paused. Something small and bright fluttered on the ground, several strands of Shaula’s hair, sliced cleanly.

“Here, Gojo-sensei here!” Subaru yelled.

Gojo crouched, picked the strands up between two fingers. He sniffed the air, the Six Eyes working beneath the blindfold; something cold and wrong tickled his senses like static.

“There's mana in the air more noticeable here. Shaula's… it seemed like this was placed on purpose or something, maybe for us to find.”

The stairs past the landing led to a wing they hadn’t checked yet. The door there was heavier, iron-banded, as if meant to keep people out. Around it, small birds lingered, fluttering and flapping.

Subaru’s pulse thudded in his throat. He half-ran, palms slapping the wood as he pushed the door open.

The room was less a room and more a spectacle. The same small white birds from outside perched atop a metallic fence that framed an impossible view: a rich, purple night where the wind swept through the endless sandy sea. Countless stars twinkled above, winking as if the universe itself watched them. It would have been breathtaking if not for Shaula’s body collapsed against the fence facing the door they had just entered through.

Sprawled there, she faced the doorway—it wasn’t a surprise attack. It was as if she had genuinely been outclassed.

Her scorpion-tail braid, usually a coil of energy and life, splayed loose. Blood darkened the floor in an intense crimson pool, but the wound itself was unnaturally clean, like a blade made to cut and vanish without tearing. The incision ran across her side in a long, clinical line.

She didn’t move.

Subaru’s breath hitched. He stumbled forward, hands reaching—then froze, a foot away from her, eyes agape.

“A-Ah…” His voice broke at the sight.

Gojo’s feet were silent as he crossed the balcony. He knelt beside her with a precision that bordered on ritual, gloved hands checking the wound, her pulse, the angles of her injuries. He did not fumble. He did not panic. Yet the blindfold slipped a fraction, revealing the storm in his eyes—and the truth Subaru already feared.

“She’s gone.” Gojo said, voice small and flat, an evident frown on his face as he delivered the news.

The room hollowed in response. Subaru grimaced, catching himself on the metal fence, eyes wide but not yet filled with tears as he would've been many other times. He glanced over the edge, pondering the cruel reality below.

“…Subaru, I notice things many would not be able to.” Gojo muttered, frowning as he tilted his head toward him. “So why… why are you not the slightest bit saddened? Shocked, yes… but not saddened? Clearly, yet unmoved. Why, Subaru?”

Gojo’s hands moved to Shaula, closing her lifeless eyes before standing. Subaru opened his mouth, but words died there, cut cleanly off by Gojo's continuation.

“I am less sad than I am angry right now.” Gojo muttered, yet his voice was audible. “But even I have limits… emotion-wise. So why—why, Subaru… aren’t you in tears as I’ve seen you so many times before?”

Gojo’s eyes widened behind the blindfold.
“You look as if… it’s something you never believed to have even happened, despite the fact it sits right in front of your eyes...”

“Gojo-sensei… that… I—” Subaru started.

“…You can’t tell me.”

Gojo clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. In one swift motion, he grabbed Subaru by the collar, hoisting him out of the balcony and slamming him against a solid wall of the tower’s interior. Not nearly hard enough to injure, but enough to stop him.

“Why—WHY can’t you tell me? It obviously involves ‘death’ yes? What else could it involve, Subaru? Your name is in that library, after all.”

“N-No—”

“Subaru… I am trying. Trying to be lenient… calm… but someone’s hunting us, and yet I find it increasingly difficult to—”

Subaru’s eyes widened. He pressed himself against the wall, his body frozen.

“Sensei… this—”

“Tell me.”

“Sensei—”

“Tell me!”

The wall beside Subaru cracked beneath the pressure of Gojo’s hand.

Subaru’s fists clenched, trembling. What choice did he have? He didn’t want to see all of that again—didn’t want to see the Witch again, the darkness, the endless despair, the relentless agony. But secrets weren’t an option here, not with Gojo.

“I… can—”

He stopped. No. He couldn’t.

Subaru's fists tightened, unyielding. He’d seen it all: Gojo strung out like a puppet, torn limb by limb in front of him, Envy and Reid tearing through the battlefield; the endless purple rifts of the Witch’s stare, her cold, inescapable touch.

“…What is it that’s stopping you, Subaru?” Gojo’s voice dropped, softer now, coaxing rather than demanding. He could see the hesitation, the desperate desire to withhold.

Subaru swallowed, eyes burning. He exhaled, finally forcing the truth out, prepared to kill himself in a heartbeat if he sees the Witch or darkness manifest.

“I… I can Return by Death. I’ve been coming back… after dying… again and again and again!”

Silence.

Gojo’s eyes widened behind the blindfold. The air still, the tower itself seemingly holding its breath. No witch appeared. No darkness that threatens to swallow the world. Only Subaru, trembling, and the weight of the confession between them.

“…What…?” Gojo muttered in disbelief, as if those words Subaru had spoke were the last thing he had expected.

Notes:

Woohoo, I are finally back to continue this! Don't worry, I still have no intention of letting this go...

Chapter 39: Sheer Ecstasy.

"You..." Gojo’s voice faltered, his eyes widening behind the blindfold as if Subaru had just told him the most ridiculous lie in existence.

Return by Death?

"Are you actually serious?"
His fist peeled away from the cracked wall, his weight shifting back a step. For once, Gojo looked less like the unshakable sorcerer he was known as—and more like someone grasping for reason in nonsense.

Literal immortality. It was absurd. And yet—how else could he explain Subaru’s strange flashes of foresight, his unearned experience, the way he always seemed to know things no one should?

"...It all makes sense.." Gojo muttered under his breath. "You... Subaru..."

But Subaru didn’t even hear him. He was too busy staring past Gojo, eyes darting along the edges of the room as if waiting for the inevitable—the suffocating darkness, the unseen hands, her. His entire body shook under the weight of that memory, that curse.

And yet… nothing came.

"--H-huh...?"

No shadow. No whispers. No hands clutching at his heart.

Why wasn’t she coming?

"I... I can Return by Death...!" Subaru’s voice cracked, louder this time, as though shouting the words would finally trigger the punishment. "By—by DEATH!!"

Still nothing.

His legs trembled. His throat closed. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t fall. "Why... why isn’t she here...?!"

Gojo stood frozen, lips parted. Even for him—this was too much. Too insane for even someone like him to believe, yet, it made sense...

"You... really mean it...?"

"...Or is this all some kind of sick joke?" Subaru’s voice hitched, fraying at the edges. "Another way for the world to toy with me... break me again...?"

Gojo raised his head, ready to answer—

But then the tower itself rumbled. Barely perceptible at first, just a tremor through the soles of their feet. Then stronger, enough to make the walls tremble. The stone groaned, alive, and both of them froze.

Gojo snapped his head to the side and tore the bandages from his face, cerulean light flaring from the Six Eyes as they drank in the unseen.

"...What the hell is going on...?"

For a fleeting moment he thought of Shaula’s body, lying still in that star-soaked balcony. He’d wanted to move her, if only out of respect—but that would have to wait. Whatever could shake the entire Watchtower certainly demanded his attention.

He broke into a sprint, a blur of white tearing down the hallways. Subaru followed, though the gap between them stretched wide; no matter how much he pushed his legs, Gojo was still on another level.

At the spiraling stairwell, Gojo slid to a halt, boots scraping stone, and leaned over the edge. His gaze speared downward, past floor after floor, until the abyss far below lit his eyes with a hellish glow.

Subaru caught up moments later, panting, then froze beside him as he too looked down.

The Fifth Floor. Celaeno. The endless hall that was usually dim and featureless now blazed like a sun trapped underground. Heat pulsed upward in waves, stinging their skin even from dozens of meters away.

And with it—screams. Shrill, warped, unnatural. The sound of witchbeasts.

"...No way..." Subaru’s voice cracked. His eyes widened as the herd revealed itself: at least twenty, horse-shaped monstrosities with molten manes, hooves sparking fire as they stampeded.

He knew them. Too well. The beast he’d barely survived once. The kind that had nearly ended him forever.

But this wasn’t one. This was many.

“What the…?”
Gojo said, his eyes agape as he glares at the sight below.

“R-right…”
Subaru muttered, steadying his breath, trying to keep his nerves.

Gojo didn’t respond at first. His jaw clenched, teeth bared—not at the monsters. At something else.

“No. That’s not what I’m talking about.” His tone was alien, uncharacteristically tight. “Why the hell is he down there?!”

Subaru blinked. “...He—?”

And then he saw it.

Amidst the inferno and the shrieking herd, cutting through fire and flame, was a blur of red. Crimson hair like a comet’s tail. A long kimono snapping with each movement. In his hands—not a sword, but a simple wooden stick, swinging with such weight and precision it made a mockery of the burning beasts around him. Each strike carved through them clean, effortless, the wood refusing to char even as fire licked it from sheer speed alone.

He was laughing. Grinning like a madman even as fire and fangs lunged for him.

“LOOOOK! LOOKLOOKLOOK AT ME, YOU!” His voice boomed, echoing up the tower. “AREN’T YOU GONNA TAKE VENGEANCE FOR ALL THOSE COMPANIONS OF YOURS I’VE SLAIN?!”

He twisted, vaulted over a beast, brought his stick down in a thunderous blow that split the spike where a head should've been in one impossibly fast motion. Blood bubbled and hissed as it met fire.

“C’MON—! C’MON! COME ON!” he howled, his grin splitting wider as the herd swarmed around him.

Subaru’s lips trembled, eyes going wide. He whispered the name before his breath could catch:

“...Reid...??”

It was Reid Astrea. The very first Sword Saint—alive, breathing, grinning like a devil.

The better question wasn’t what he was doing, but how the hell he was even down here. Neither Subaru nor Gojo had imagined the man could just stroll out of that trial room. If he could leave at will… then what did that mean for them? Was the whole tower just a joke to him then?

Gojo’s jaw tightened. Above all, he wanted answers—and right now, he had more than enough reason to suspect Reid Astrea had been the one to slice Shaula apart. Why would the red-haired man do such a thing? Reasons didn’t matter to Gojo.

“You’d better reinforce yourself, Subaru. Heavily.” Gojo said, his tone flat, eyes locked below. “Then again—it’s your choice. You can… come back from the dead after all, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. His hands slipped from his pockets as he surrendered to gravity, Infinity flaring to life around him through instinct as he hit the ground like a falling star.

“Ghh—trust me, I do not want to know what being roasted alive feels like!” Subaru shouted, cursed energy crawling over his skin as he bent his knees and leapt after Satoru.

---

The moment Gojo landed, his voice cut through the inferno.
“REID ASTREA!!”

“Hrn?” Reid’s head turned mid-swing. His grin faltered only for a breath before the stick in his hands split a charging centaur’s leg like it was dry kindling. In the same motion, he pivoted and drove the blunt tip clean through the beast’s skull. Using the corpse as a platform, he leveled his wild eyes at Gojo beneath him.

“Oi, oi—you.” His gaze flicked to Subaru. “And the small-fry too. You two seriously came down here? Heh. I reckon you’ll scrape by, but babysittin’ the deadweight? That’s gotta be a right pain in the ass, eh?”

Gojo’s reply died in his throat—no one had the luxury to stand still. Fire lanced from every angle, heat warping the air. He snapped his arm out, seizing Subaru’s forearm and yanking him into Infinity’s veil before the flames could char him alive.

“Smoke’s too thick…” Gojo muttered, swiping the air clear with his hand.

“Heh!” Reid’s sandals thumped as he kicked off the pinned beast, vaulting toward the next. A fireball streaked toward him. He ducked under it with a laugh, stick whipping in an arc that split the monster straight in half—the wound clean, permanent.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, watching. His hand leveled outward without even batting an eye, energy twisting—
Red.
The blast detonated into another centaur, collapsing its frame into shattered bone and mangled flesh. For a heartbeat, the thing was still.

Then it twitched. Rose again.

Meanwhile Reid’s kill—bisected, hollowed, destroyed—lay silent, unmoving, undone in a way that mocked every law Gojo understood.

What’s different about his strikes…?

Gojo thought, eyes narrowing further as the heat raged.

There's something about his attacks that I can't quite put my finger on, how confusing… But that wasn’t the point.  I’ve got something to settle with him. Subaru can hold out. He’s gotten stronger since his last scuffle with one of these witchbeasts.

Reid moved like a storm. His sandals scraped sparks as he slid under a gout of flame, body low, and with a single kick launched a centaur witchbeast skyward like a ragdoll.

In the next instant, he rose after it—step light, almost delicate. Then came the whirlwind. His stick whirled into a gale of slashes, so fast they blurred into a single storm of steel and wind. When his feet hit the ground again, only bloody chunks rained down around him.

“Tsck—borin’...” Reid spat, flicking blood from his cheek. “These horses are just raindrops to me.”

Another heat-lash surged toward him, and Reid’s body turned instinctively—stick snapping into a guard.

CLASH-!

The strike didn’t come from a beast.
It was Gojo’s foot, pressed down hard against his weapon, Six Eyes gleaming like frozen fire.

Reid’s grin sharpened. He shoved, forcing Gojo into a midair flip, but the sorcerer landed with feline ease.

“Ohooo?!” Reid barked out, exhilarated laughter rolling between the flames. “Centaur’s too weak for ya, eh? Heh—I respect that! Small-fry over there, he’s fun in a pathetic way, but you…” His eyes thinned to wild slits, blue pupils burning. “You ain’t predictable. You’re dangerous.”

He snapped his stick into a stance, weight forward, like a beast baring its fangs.

“This stick-swinger’ll show ya what it means to be the strongest, y’hear?!”

Gojo exhaled slowly, lowering into his own stance. No smile. No flippancy. Only a cold razor’s edge of intent.

“Then remember this name, 'stick swinger'” His voice cut through the roar of fire like steel.
“I’m Satoru Gojo. And this’ll be the second time you die.”

---

Subaru ripped the ebony blade free from the centaur’s flank, the beast howling in that shrill, piercing tone before detonating in a spray of fire. He staggered back, smoke trailing from his clothes, lungs searing.

The cursed blade morphed, lengthening into a javelin. With a roar, Subaru hurled it overhead—the weapon lanced into the monster’s chest and split outward like jagged roots, nailing the shrieking beast to the wall.

“This is the best I’ve got…” he muttered, wiping ash from his brow, heart hammering. “One… maybe two if I’m lucky. But fifteen? I’d be dead meat without those two monsters cutting loose over there...”

Still, his gaze snapped toward Gojo and Reid as their duel edged into motion. Just watching them made Subaru’s stomach churn. The last time Reid fought seriously, Subaru had nearly been crushed by the aftershocks alone. He might be stronger now, sure, but this…? This was a clash of natural disasters.

“Urkk—damn it all…”

---

Reid moved first. His body twitched once, subtle, before exploding into a blur. Stick and fist collided with Gojo’s hand in a single brutal impact that spiderwebbed the floor and sent shockwaves hammering across the entire hall.

“Hrkk—!” Gojo grimaced, jaw tight, his arm rattling under Reid’s raw strength even through Infinity.

Reid snapped his weapon back in the same breath and thrust it forward with killing precision. The stick’s edge grazed Gojo’s cheek, parting flesh before he bent low, momentum hurling him toward an onrushing centaur.

But Gojo’s eyes saw it all.
He dropped into a fluid slide, body gliding beneath the beast’s belly. A ripple of cursed energy burned in his outstretched palm—

SPLIT-!

The centaur fell apart in perfect halves before Gojo could blink, a curtain of blood splitting open. And right on cue, Reid burst through the gore, just as Gojo had predicted.

Reid’s eyes widened, grin flickering as he saw the glowing crimson sphere blooming inches from his face.

“—Red!”

The impact was real—Gojo felt it in his bones. Red had smashed into Reid and hurled him back, gouging a path across the fiery stone floor. But the Sword Saint didn’t stumble, didn’t cough blood, didn’t even grimace. He simply lowered his stick, kimono scorched, smirk still carved into his face.

Tch—he blocked that?!

“Oi—oi oi, shitter.” Reid’s voice rang wild through the firestorm. “Don’t look so down, y’hear? That was prob’ly the best chance you had of winnin’. But don’t you dare give up now—fights like this? Rare as hell y'know.”

Gojo’s eye twitched. A smirk curved his lips, but only for a heartbeat before his gaze hardened again.

“I couldn’t agree more… but I can’t enjoy this one.” His voice dropped, tone cutting like steel. “Not when you killed Shaula.”

His heel cracked the stone beneath him. No flicker, no warning—Gojo moved.

“Tch—the fuck’re you tal—”
Reid’s words were cut off as he was forced into a lean, Gojo’s fist passing inches from his face. His stick flashed, biting through cloth and skin across Gojo’s chest, a wide arc of blood spraying through the air, but neither fighter seemed to care—

Red-

Reid read it instantly. No second chances. He vaulted free of the blast radius, kimono smoking, eyes narrowed at the debris whipping unnaturally toward him. Flesh, rubble, blood—all dragged by the pull of cursed energy.

Blue-

Instead of faltering, Reid’s grin split wider. In one breath, his stick whirled—no, dozens of strikes layered into a single moment—reducing stone to powder and meat to mist.

“GYAAAHAHAHA! YOU—YOU GOTTA DO BETTER THAN THAT, SATORU GOJO!”

Gojo’s chest knit shut with a glow of Reversed Cursed Technique before he twisted his wrist, flinging a centaur corpse into Reid’s path with a crushing wave of blue energy, then leapt high. Reid anticipated, eyes darting upward as Gojo descended like a hammer.

SWISH—!

Reid’s body slipped aside, fluid, inevitable. His stick carved upward—clean, merciless.

Gojo’s eyes snapped wide. His arm—gone. Severed from the elbow. Blood sprayed in a fountain as the limb spun through the air.

Pain flared, but the sorcerer didn’t scream or panic. Infinity folded tight around the wound, sealing the blood mid-spray, slowing any blood that dared try to escape infinitesimally. He lashed out with a kick, but Reid parried it and slammed a palm into his chest, sending Gojo skidding back, staggering.

His brows furrowed. His breath caught.

Why…?

His lost arm wasn’t regenerating.

The other strikes of his that cut me never truly took off a limb, they just cut my skin, is that the difference?

“Tch…” Gojo exhaled, frustration bleeding into a grim grin. “You ever hear you’re a real pain in the ass to fight?”

Reid cocked his head, grin easy, feral.
“Pfft. All the time. Usually from weaklings cryin’ ‘cause they ain’t got the guts to grind their way up. But you…” His eyes flicked sharp, tone twisting. “Nah—you’re one o’ those prodigy bastards, huh? Spoonfed talent ‘n power. Annoyin’ types.”

Gojo didn’t bother answering. His eyes slid toward Subaru.

“Oi—Subaru. Get the hell outta here. Can’t go all-out with you in the blast zone.”

“...Yeah, I mean—GLADLY!”
Subaru yelped, barely ducking past a flaming centaur’s lunge. Reinforcing his legs with cursed energy, he leapt skyward, snagging the half-melted staircase and hauling himself upward, climbing as fast as his body would allow.

After ensuring Subaru was completely out of his range, Gojo’s lips curled into a grin as he raised his remaining hand, palm agape and aimed at the charging Sword Saint.

“Oi—oi, watch yourself!!” 
“Maximum Output: Red—!!”

A crimson sphere detonated into a crescent of raw force, screaming forward. Reid swung his stick to intercept—

CRACK-!

The weapon exploded into splinters. Only pure instinct saved him, his body twisting into a narrow lean that barely kept him from being halved. But the awkward motion left him open—

WHAM-!

Gojo’s fist slammed into his jaw. Reid skidded back, blood spitting from his mouth… but his grin never faltered. He licked his lips, eyes glittering.

“Now that’s more like it!”

He shifted stances, feet sliding. A Centaur, still staggering nearby, rushed between them. Reid didn’t hesitate—his foot pistoned forward, smashing into the beast’s ribs and hurling its massive body like a living projectile straight at Gojo.

“Tch—!”

The corpse hit Infinity and stopped cold, blocking Gojo’s vision—exactly as Reid blitzed in from the side. His kick caved into Gojo’s ribs with a brutal crack, forcing blood from the sorcerer’s mouth.

Reid didn’t stop. Snatching a chunk of bone from the carnage, he stripped it clean in one contemptuous swipe and swung it in a vicious diagonal arc.

Gojo thrust his palm forward, fingertips glowing.
“Red—!”

The strike split apart the impossible blow, the bone shattering—but the proximity hurled both of Reid’s arms skyward. Gojo surged in with a crushing hook—only to find Reid already flowing under it, body arched impossibly low like a bridge, his leg snapping upward to pry Gojo’s guard open and force distance again.

“You know, pretty boy…” Reid scoffed, rolling his neck. “You’re gonna lose like this. Pathetic, really. Weren’t you screamin’ about avengin’ some chick? Shaula, or whoever the hell you think I killed? That all you got?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his breath heavy.

Reid clicked his tongue, tilting his head with mock thoughtfulness.
“Was she hot? If so, why the shit would I kill her? Nah, I’d bed her first. Plenty o’ places to sleep in this tower after all, before I leave this shithole that is.”

Gojo froze mid-breath.
“…Before you leave? What the hell does that even mean?”

Reid blinked, then scoffed.
“By walkin’ through the doors, obviously. You dumb or somethin’?”

“Tsck—”
Gojo grimaced, but the Sword Saint was already scratching his chest idly, tone shifting to bored demand.

“Anyway. Essentials, y’know? Water. Food. Some sake. And women.”

Gojo winced, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“…Right. So what I’m getting from this is—you didn’t kill Shaula?”

Reid didn’t answer immediately, gaze wandering the ruined battlefield. No centaurs remained; their fight had slaughtered every last one. He scratched the back of his head, then finally spoke.

“Hrrr… Brown-haired chick? Big tits? Hell no, I didn’t kill her. Tch! What kinda man you take me for, hrm?!”

Gojo sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

If he didn’t kill her… then who the hell did?

The Six Eyes narrowed, unease creeping in.

This is all way too confusing… damn it, all I can take away from this is there's a little rat sneaking about…

“…So why did you wait so long to leave?” Gojo tilted his head, tone flat but with a razor edge. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t bother with a trial at all. But you gave Subaru days before bailing. Doesn’t add up.”

Reid let out a loud snort, dragging his sandal against the floor as though the question itself was a waste of his time.
“Tsck… reasons, reasons, huh? Rhhh—fuck you! Ask too many dumbass questions, makin’ me sound like some sorta dumbass!” He jabbed his thumb toward his own chest, smirking. “Me? Stayin’ for days? Don’t get it twisted, pretty boy. That was me… being generous.”

Gojo didn’t even blink.
“Generous. Uh-huh.”

“Yeh! Small-fry needed some prep time. If I’d just walked outta that room straight away, he’d’ve been face-down cryin’ like a baby with no fight left in him. Least this way, he had a chance to flex before gettin’ stomped. That’s manners, you hear, you?”

Gojo stared at him like he was staring at a particularly stupid kindergartner drawing on the walls.
“…You didn’t even know you could walk out until you tried, did you?”

Reid clicked his tongue and looked away sharply, scratching the side of his neck.
“Tsck—don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. I just didn’t feel like wastin’ the effort yet, y’get me? I was enjoyin’ my nap, keepin’ the skills polished, listenin’ to that idiot small-fry whine his ass off every day. Entertainment, see?”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change, though his shoulders slumped just slightly as if gravity finally caught him.
Unbelievable. It's not like he's dumb either, so is it just plain arrogance?

“I don’t give two shits about this trial.” Reid snapped, shaking his head like the entire concept bored him. “And why the hell should I? You think I care about some little test? You?”

Gojo sighed, rubbing his temple like he was fighting the beginnings of a migraine.
“…Well… I guess that makes enough sense. Unfortunately.”

His eyes then trailed down to his lost limb, a frown appearing on his face.

Now what the hell am I going to do about this...?

---

Subaru let out a long, shaky sigh of relief as he leaned over the edge to glance down. Flames still licked at the air far below, and the stone was cracked and blackened, but he couldn’t see either Gojo or Reid in the chaos. All he could hear was the sounds of chaos below.

“… Gojo can hold his own.. sure he's fighting an absolute monster but, it takes a monster to fight one.”
Subaru muttered, half to himself, half in disbelief.

Shaking his head, he turned away, boots scraping against stone as he jogged back through the hallways. His steps carried him back toward that broken wall where Gojo had cornered him earlier.

He slowed. The hole in the stone… the sharp imprint of Gojo’s fist… it all made his stomach twist. Subaru stared at it like it was some riddle.

Why could I tell Gojo? Why… why didn’t she care?

The thought burned as he clenched his teeth, glaring at the wall as though it might answer him.

He knows. He knows I can Return by Death. So why? Why does the witch not come causing anarchy this time around…?

His lips tightened into a thin line, and he forced himself to turn. The door opposite still hung ajar, and beyond it—

Shaula’s corpse.

Subaru’s chest sank. The sight was all too familiar, all too cruel. He felt his throat tighten with frustration.

“A failed loop this is.” he muttered bitterly. “The only reason I haven’t restarted already was to find out more. And for some reason I don't think it was Reid either, it doesn't make sense for him to kill someone like Shaula with her errr... assets? He'd be all for that anything...”

He rubbed at his face, dragging his fingers across the sweat and grime streaking his cheek. His voice cracked as he tried to convince himself:
“…I can just figure it out the next—”

The words froze in his throat. His instincts screamed at him—MOVE!—and cursed energy surged through him without thought, reinforcing his body as he snapped his body around—

—but too late.

A flash of silver, and white-hot pain.

“GRHH—!”
Subaru’s breath ripped out of him in a ragged growl as the dagger carved across his chest and side, slicing muscle like paper. Blood sprayed in a vicious arc, scattering across the floor.

Stumbling back, his vision swam red. His breath hitched and trembled, but his eyes still burned with disbelief and primarily, confusion.

“…Wh-what… the hell—?!”

The flash of steel carved across the dark, slicing Subaru’s chest before he even had time to blink. His body lurched back, breath hitching as a thin spray of blood painted the air and floor.

From the shadow, a silhouette wavered, then stepped forward into the light—long, flowing brown hair tipped in pinkish-red, beady green eyes that gleamed like a predator’s, fanged teeth bared in a grin. His cloak dragged along the ground, whispering with each step, like the sound of something being devoured.

“Ahhh—ehhh? You, you you you—you dodged? You moved? Nuh-uh, no, no no no, that’s not fair, that’s not how it works, nope nope nope nope nope—”

The voice trilled, lilting and broken, like a child throwing a tantrum and a lunatic giggling over a joke only he could hear.

Subaru’s eyes widened, heart sinking as recognition struck. That voice. That face. The monster who had appeared that he had to fight against alongside Ram at the mansion. The thing Gojo had left him to handle while fighting Elsa and that other Archbishop.

He stumbled into a stance, lips pressing tight.
“... Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult…”

The figure stretched his arms wide, head lolling as though on strings, before snapping back into a toothy grin.
“Representin’ GLUUUUTONY~! Lye Batenkaitos!”

Lye’s green eyes snapped downward without his head moving an inch.

“Tsck—guess I’ve found our killer, huh…”
Subaru muttered, his voice ragged. His whole body burned—not the sharpness of flame, but a feverish suffocation, sweat dripping into his eyes. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the blood loss biting deeper than he had time to bargain for.

“Not fair… not fair, fair fair… Though you aren’t the white-haired fella who killed little brother, still—still still—I’ll eat, eat eat you up, tsu~”

Lye stepped forward, feather-light, but each step brought him closer with the aura of a predator. He launched forward, a silver glint flashing through the cramped hall.

“Hrk—!”
Subaru jerked sideways, the dagger just grazing flesh. Another flash followed—he barely dodged again. And again. And again.

The tight walls hemmed him in, narrowing the dance, turning Lye’s erratic swipes into a storm Subaru couldn’t counter in his current state. Every missed strike still cost him breath, each heartbeat dragging him closer to the dark edge of unconsciousness.

A hand, his left clamped Subaru's shoulder. Lye’s touch was light, almost playful—before both his legs tucked inward and he kicked off Subaru’s body. The next instant Subaru was slammed spine-first into the stone wall, the air ripping from his lungs.

“Urrghk—! Damn it Gojo-sensei, why's he taking.. so long…?!”
Subaru coughed, his vision swimming.

Lye tilted his head like a curious animal, his grin widening, his green eyes glittering with a manic, hollow joy.
“Ahhh? Is—is it true, truly? Is that the name, the name of the one who killed little brother? Ohhh, oh oh, it must be, it must be, tsu~!”

Subaru’s body sagged, his legs trembling. His breaths were shallow, his pupils dimming, strength falling from him like water through cracked fingers.

“No, no no no no…” Lye hissed, each word doubling back on itself, as though savoring it. “You can’t—you can’t die yet, can’t die, tsu~! You must allow me, allow me to eat you, chew you, swallow you, make you part, part, part of me, tsu~!”

Subaru dragged in a shuddering breath. Death was certain, his body already shredded—but he refused to keel over yet. Not to this freak so easily. Not without learning something for the next loop.

He let out a breath, his veins bulging with jet-black as he manifests it once more.

The Authority of Pride…!

The walls buckled as if responding to his will—black spires of shadow erupting like jagged fangs toward the Archbishop. Lye’s green eyes flickered, his grin sharpening. A step—and he vanished.

Behind!

An ebony blade surged into Subaru’s grip, steel ringing in his ears as it met the silver dagger. Sparks danced as Subaru shoved back, forcing Lye to skid across the stone.

Darkness lashed. Cuts appeared on Lye’s frame, shallow but real. He only laughed, twisting, bounding across walls, leaving silver arcs in his wake. Subaru parried, blocked, bled—until his mouth filled with iron and his lungs burned like fire.

But still, he began to grin like a mad-man on the level of Lye himself, as if death was nothing more than a simple matter.

Subaru’s whole body was screaming at him to just collapse—muscles torn, lungs drowning, vision flashing in and out—but his lips just peeled back into a wild, bloody grin. His heart hammered like a war drum, every nerve alive with fire.

If he was going to die, then why not burn everything out? Why not laugh as he pushed past the limits of his body? Maybe that was why it felt so good. Maybe death was the very reason ecstasy clawed through his veins.

“Ahhh…”
His laugh came out ragged, bubbling with blood. His eyes lost their focus for a second from the sheer ecstasy—then suddenly snapped back to meet the glint of green and silver barreling toward him.

Darkness met steel.

CLANG!

The hallway shook with the clash. Subaru’s knees almost buckled—but his face split into a manic smile as he shoved back with everything he had.

“Is… is it weird, huh? That I feel so damn good right now?” His voice cracked, half-snarling, half-laughing. “I mean—seriously… this is greaaat!”

He cackled, pressing harder against Lye’s guard, eyes wide and unblinking.

Lye’s grin faltered for the first time, his green eyes narrowing as though confused—just for a flicker. The Archbishop of Gluttony was used to screams, begging, sobbing… not a half-dead boy howling with joy like this.

“Tsu~…?”

Subaru’s blade trembled in his hands, darkness flaring around it, eating at the edges of the corridor. His whole frame quivered as though about to collapse—yet he laughed louder, forcing the dagger back inch by inch.

The black blade quivered in his grip, his arms trembling—but instead of faltering, Subaru threw his head back and laughed.

“Ahahahahaa—! Come on! Harder! Cut me up more if you want too!”

Lye’s green eyes widened, second dagger flashing forward like silver lightning through the gap—straight through Subaru’s shoulder. Flesh split. Bone cracked. His body jerked under the impact, but instead of recoiling, Subaru lunged forward into the stab, forcing the blade deeper in his own body just to close the distance.

He slammed his forehead into Lye’s nose with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprayed across the walls. His own and Lye’s mingled in the air.

Lye hissed, twisting his dagger out, carving across Subaru’s ribs in a spray of blood. But Subaru didn’t even flinch as a response—he threw himself into the slice, letting his side split open just so his fist could smash against Lye’s jaw.

The Archbishop skidded back, eyes twitching, grin twitching between delight and confusion. This wasn’t despair. This wasn’t fear. This was… something else. Something confusing.

“Tsuu~…? You’re strange, strange strange, very strange!—letting yourself be eaten up, little meal…”

Subaru staggered forward, dripping red with every step, blade dragging against the floor. His lungs wheezed, his legs shook, but his grin was radiant.

Lye darted forward again, faster, sharper, blades flashing in a frenzy. Subaru didn’t dodge. He let them cut, his skin opening in slashes across his arms, his chest, his thigh—but every time he was cut, he struck back harder.

“Ghhkk—!”
Blood sprayed as crimson tears welled in his eyes. The veins in his entire body threatening to burst from sheer pressure alone.

Lye landed lightly on even ground after being flung, another opening!

Subaru stepped. Darkness exploded from his heel.

“Try blocking THIS ONE!”
His voice cracked, half-scream, half-laugh.

The hallway became a coffin of spikes that surged toward the Archbishop. Lye’s eyes went wide—

“Eclipse!”
Lye howled, twin daggers cutting through the wave of darkness and shattering the void around him—

Only for Subaru to meet him again in a spray of sparks where their blade's clashed with one another. The only difference were these sparks weren't orange, they were black and red.

Subaru’s lips peeled back in a bloody grin. For the briefest flicker of eternity, everything aligned—his will, his cursed energy, the abyss inside him, all of it suddenly made sense.

SNAP-!

The dagger shattered from the sudden explosive force. The backlash launched Lye across the hall like a ragdoll at supersonic speeds, his body cracking stone as he smashed into the far wall. The ground erupted. Black lightning hissed across Subaru’s blade.

“—BLACK FLASH!!!”

Time finally lurched back into motion.

Subaru’s knees gave out instantly, his vision collapsing into red haze and pitch-black static. His breaths came wet and shallow, every nerve screaming. The obscene amount of blood pooled around him, his entire body reduced to a state it had ever been before.

And yet he laughed, his smile delirious, unshaken, even as the blood formed as a puddle beneath his cold frame.

“…Heheh… found.. our killer… and learned something real good…”

The darkness surged up around him, swallowing him whole as his body went limp. But even as his head fell against the wall—he was grinning. He'd had an epiphany after all, the understanding of his Authority deepening.

Next time. Next time I'll be ready, and I'll make sure nobody dies...
Lye Batenkaitos... I'm coming for you.

Notes:

So Subaru knows he can tell Gojo about RBD now! And Subaru went all Gojo-mode on Lye, how fun right?

Chapter 40: Hall of Memories.

Subaru’s eyes fluttered open.

The crushing cold of death still lingered in his chest, that suffocating sensation clawing at his lungs before Return by Death snapped him back—again. He stared upward, vision clearing to reveal the ceiling above: thick vines, lush ivy swaying slightly, soft green light filtering through the chamber.

The Green Room.

He was seated cross-legged, spirits already curling around him in wisps of soft light, knitting his wounds together. They didn’t heal him instantly, but compared to letting nature take its course, this place was vastly superior.

“…So that means…” he muttered, pressing a hand to his bruised ribs. “This has to be right after another loss against Reid Astrea. Guess I got plastered harder than I remember.”

His voice trailed into a sigh as he looked down at his palms.
“…Probably a day or two before the Archbishop shows up, if I had to guess. Hopefully, atleast, surely my save point isn’t further than that right?”

The thought tightened his gut. Losing that much progress wouldn't exactly be the worst outcome considering how he'd already been through worse in the painful cycle against Reinhard. Well, he was close to insanity back then, so maybe a repeat of that wouldn't be the best for him.

He pinched his chin, thinking hard.

Reid can leave the trial room. The centaurs swarmed one of the lower floors—the one leading underground. That has to be connected to Shaula’s death. She must’ve been keeping them in check all this time.

His jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface as his fists curled against his pants. The breath he released came out shaky, slow.
“…Most importantly… Lye Batenkaitos. Gluttony. There were two of them before… one now, after Gojo-sensei did this thig. Maybe he came here out of revenge, some twisted brotherly instinct. But how the hell did he even get inside? It took Gojo practically breaking space to stumble into this place if what he said was the truth…”

Subaru’s gaze dropped. His voice grew quieter, rougher.
“…So he must’ve snuck up on Shaula. If it were a fair fight… my odds of beating her are basically zero. But Lye, he wasn't impossible…”

His words died as his mind flashed back. Blood. Screams. The ringing of steel. His own laughter—raw, manic, ecstatic.

That grin plastered across his own face.
The way he wanted Lye’s blades inside him, just for the chance to hit back.

“…The hell was that…?” Subaru whispered. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “One second I was ready to accept dying, the next—I was grinning like a lunatic. Taking hits, laughing as if… as if it felt good... and I even did that 'black flash' attack again.”

His breath hitched. He shut his eyes, trying to force the thought away.
“Thinking about it… it was almost like when Go—”

“Yo!”

Subaru nearly screamed as Gojo’s face suddenly leaned into his vision, grinning like a fox.

“URK—!?” His whole body jolted, twisting as he clutched at his side. Pain shot through him, and he groaned, glaring up at the white-haired man.

“Ahhh, right—injuries. My bad, my bad~” Gojo tilted his head, unrepentant. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you, dear student?”

Subaru dragged in heavy breaths, teeth gritted, before his glare sharpened into a scowl.
“…Damn you. That makes, what, the fifth time you’ve scared the hell out of me like this? Is this a tradition now or something?”

Gojo tapped his chin, as if seriously considering it.
“Hmm… tradition? I like the sound of that. Yeah, let’s make it official. Great idea!”

“Sometimes I question whether or not I actually like you.” Subaru muttered with a scowl.

Gojo only tilted his head, that infuriating smile never shifting as he smoothly lowered himself to sit cross-legged opposite Subaru.
“Now now, Subaru, no need for rudeness! I was just about to drop some life-changing wisdom on you. Wisdom that might even help with that little problem of yours named Reid Astrea.”

Subaru opened his mouth, clearly ready to fire back with some sarcastic jab, but stopped halfway. He sighed instead, rubbing at his temple.
“…Uh-huh. Go on.”

Gojo cupped his ear dramatically.“Manners? C’mon, c’mon…”

Subaru shot him a glare, then relented with the deadpan tone of a man signing away his dignity.
“…Please, Gojo-sensei.”

That made him grin wide, satisfied.
“Right, right! So. Here’s the deal. I can see way more than pretty much anyone else alive. So much, in fact, that if I don’t keep these bandages on—” He tapped at his sunglasses, then gestured toward his head. “—or a pair of sunglasses... have to get around to mending those somehow, I actually risk frying my own brain. Not very stylish right?”

“Boo-hoo.” Subaru deadpanned.

“Ah-ah, patience! Thanks to Reverse Cursed Technique, I can fix all that pesky brain damage whenever it crops up. Like magic! Except, you know, better. Because it’s me.”

Subaru’s brow twitched.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Gojo-sensei is the greatest, the strongest, the handsomest. Information we aaaall know already. Now maybe get to the part that actually helps me?”

Gojo’s smile sharpened.
“Fine, fine. Basically—” He suddenly threw his arms in a huge O-shape. “—you, Natsuki Subaru, have ZERO talent for Reverse Cursed Technique!”

His voice echoed against the flora-covered walls, and he wiggled his fingers like he was spelling out Subaru’s weakness.

Subaru felt a vein in his forehead bulge.
“…Uh-huh.”

He looked away, jaw tightening.
Zero talent, huh…? Or is it just because I cant really care if I die? Everyone else fights like hell to avoid death—terrified of it, carved by that fear into getting stronger. Me? I can always come back. Reset. I’ve already thrown away that instinct after dying countless times. So maybe it’s not that I can’t heal myself… maybe it’s that I just don’t have the drive to.

In other words... it's probably impossible for me to attain it. At least any time soon.

His gaze dimmed.
Gojo unlocked RCT because he’s… Gojo. But also because, for once, he was cornered. Facing something actually stronger than him. He looked death in the face and it made him break through. But me…? What does death even mean to me anymore?

“…However!” Gojo cut back in, his voice suddenly losing its playfulness. “While you were getting your ass kicked by Reid—who, by the way, still isn’t trying in the slightest—”

Subaru muttered under his breath, “Was that really necessary…?”

“—I noticed something.” Gojo’s eyes sharpened, his head tilting slightly as if he were peering through Subaru. “When Reid strikes, when he goes to strike… primarily, when he’s exactly mid-attack—” His gaze trailed down Subaru’s body, almost dissecting him. “…That strange, unidentifiable dark part inside you… it reacts to that.”

His hidden gaze trailed off to the side.
“Ooooor so I theorize. I could be wrong.”

Then he stood up, dusting the flora and muck off of his knees before he turned away toward the door.
“Anyway, im off~ do with that info what you will my student!”

“... Right.” Subaru muttered, averting his gaze as he heard the familiar sound of the door slamming shut.

That 'dark part' he's talking about... it could be any one of my abilities. Return by Death, Pride's Authority... one or the other...

“Ah-- I forgot to talk to him...”

---

Gojo stepped out of the Green Room and made his way back toward what Shaula insisted on calling her "quarters" By now, he’d probably spent more time in that space than she has been.

Not that he minded too much. It was cozy enough, and the balcony gave a surprisingly decent view of the endless desert and the shimmering sea of sand below.

Dropping the last bead of water from his cup onto his tongue, Gojo felt a frown tug at his face. Sugary foods were already scarce in this world compared to Japan, but at least he usually had access to a steady stream of them thanks to his position as the Fifth Candidate. Here? Nothing but lukewarm water and meat so questionable he couldn’t tell if it came from a beast or a sewage pipe.

For a man with a sweet tooth as vicious as his, it was torture.

But what could he do? The tower warped space itself, keeping him locked in. Sure, he could walk out the front doors, but then Subaru would be stuck alone dealing with Shaula whenever she decided to flip into "psycho-killer" mode.

Could he take her down? Of course. Did he want to? Not really.

For now, he’d sit tight… and resist the very real temptation of bailing just to grab some candy back in Lugunica—or hell, even to see something that wasn’t just sand.

“Hmmm…” Gojo tapped his chin. “I wonder, wonder, wonder… would Reid’s book be tucked away in that Library? Could be hiding some juicy weakness that’ll actually help Subaru.”

He plopped himself down, filling another cup from the water bucket and sipping without enthusiasm.
“Though, odds of finding it have to be like… one in a billion. I mean, just imagine how many people have croaked in the last four hundred years.”

With a lazy shrug, he leaned back and let the glass dangle between his fingers.
“Guess I’ll bring it up with Subaru and Shaula later.”

Gojo had already sensed the presence behind him, but he wasn’t bothered enough to turn his head.
“Wait—Gojo-sensei, what was that about a book?”

Glancing back at Subaru, Gojo exhaled lazily.
“Just me thinking out loud. Probably not worth chasing. Imagine how many books are piled up in that Library.”

Subaru tilted his head, raising a fist like he was rallying himself.
“Yeah, but… it could be worth it, right? If we get lucky enough.”

Before Gojo could reply, a blur shot across the room and nearly toppled Subaru. Shaula’s arms coiled around his bicep, pulling him flush into her chest.

“Massteeer~! You’re finally up! I can’t waaait for you to punch that smug look off the scary guy’s face!” she said with a cheeky grin.

For a split second, Subaru’s face shifted—something somber flashing across his features.
“.. What would Emilia think if she saw me now, I wonder?” he muttered.

Gojo raised a brow at that, but stayed quiet.

“She’d probably be pissed...” Subaru continued, frowning. “She obviously doesn’t know much about uhhh, that department, but… I can see her being mad just 'cause. Especially with how hard she’s working right now. Believe they call it, 'A womans intuition' as Shoko put it.”

His eyes dropped, memories of earlier loops clawing at him. Back when Pride had first reared its head. Back when he wasn’t sure if he’d ever crawl back from the insanity.
“I should probably apologize when I see her next, huh.”

Shaula yanked him suddenly, her grip strong enough to drag his whole body without effort.
“Masteeer?! Master, master?! Who’s this ‘Emilia’? Are you… cheating on me?!”

Subaru growled.
“See? She’d definitely get the wrong idea if she saw this!”

“You are cheating!?” Shaula gasped in fake surprise.

"You think you’re funny, huh!?”

Gojo just watched the chaos in silence, sipping his water.
“Oi, Subaruuuu…”

They both froze. Subaru was gripping Shaula’s face in an attempt to peel her off, lifting her whole frame into the air—but she clung tighter like a stubborn cat.

“Yeah?”

"That thing I said earlier. Did it click, or was I just spouting nonsense?”

“Oh—” Subaru let Shaula go, though she clearly pouted at the loss.
“Yeah. I think it did.” he muttered, staring down at his palm.

I don’t know what to even call that state… that time I went crazy fighting Gluttony. Maybe… 'The Flow'? That sounds right. I was focused—no, obsessed.

“Hey, Gojo-sensei. Have you ever had a fight where you were so concentrated, like… nothing else in the world mattered?”

Gojo raised a brow, considering, before letting out a chuckle.
“Yeah, just once. Against Regulus. Sure, his hand-to-hand sucked ass, but the bastard was invincible and kept hurling those unstoppable attacks at me. Couldn’t afford a single slip.”

He leaned back, smirking faintly.
“I was hyper-fixated, nothing else mattered. Maybe went a little insane too. But that was probably because I’d nearly died at that village before that.”

Subaru nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“Mmm… alright. Thanks.”

Gojo grinned wide.
“Yeah, yeah. Your teacher’s pretty damn badass.”

“...But more seriously, should we head off to the Library to look for Reid's book?”
Subaru said with a grin, trying to inject some confidence into his voice.

“Well, I guess so... it's something to do at least...”
Gojo muttered, stretching his arms behind his head like this was a casual stroll rather than a monumental task.

---

The trio made their way into the Library. The moment the towering doors groaned open, Gojo’s familiar whistle filled the air, bouncing through the endless expanse. It was almost eerie—one high, carefree note swirling around shelves that spiraled on without end, like echoes trapped in infinity.

Subaru slowed his steps, gaze sweeping across the shelves. No fiction, no fantasy—only lives. The books contained the entire existence of people long forgotten, and even those who had died mere moments ago. An absurdity so overwhelming that even now, after seeing it more than once, it still made his skin crawl. Knowledge that he shouldn't be able to experience, yet here he was.

“Alright then, we should split up, right?” Subaru called out, cupping his fist against his palm with mock-heroic vigor. “Remember, we’re looking for Reid Astrea! Reid Astrea!”

Gojo chuckled, while Shaula simply tilted her head.
“Weeeell~ I don’t reaaaally wanna be away from Master for too long~” she whined, twirling her finger through her brown locks. “But if you’re taking charge so boldly, I can’t just say no~”

“Must you be so provocative?!” Subaru barked, cheeks twitching. He glanced toward where Gojo had been standing—only to find nothing but a sudden gust of wind and a few loose pages flapping. “...Ah. He’s already off.”

Subaru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Good luck, Shaula...”

“Yes, Masteeer~!”
She chirped, flashing a grin wide enough to rival Gojo’s.

---

They split off, each heading down aisles that looked like the throat of some great beast—rows upon rows of bookshelves rising what seemed like endlessly. Shaula, of course, moved like a blur. In one bounding stride she had crossed a hundred feet, sliding neatly into a new row. Her gaze scanned shelf after shelf with something closer to a child’s glee than genuine focus.

Meanwhile, Subaru trudged at a much slower pace. Every now and then, his hand brushed near to each book, he found a chill creep down his arm. He wasn’t ready to see anyone’s life—not again. He remembered how badly it shook him before. Best to keep his eyes forward, and not give in to temptation.

Minutes passed. The Library was so unnervingly silent that Subaru found himself muttering random things aloud just to keep sane.
“Reid Astrea… sword freak… a literal walking disaster…” His voice echoed weakly through the shelves. “Could it not just… glow or something? Make this easy for us for once?”

Time stretched, but oddly, not for long. In fact, not even a full hour had passed before a shrill voice suddenly pierced the still air:

“Ah—ahhh! Scary name! Scary name! Wait a sec—I found it!” Shaula’s yell thundered through the Library.

Subaru blinked, eyes widening as he found himself rushing at top speed towards Shaula, twisting and rushing through aisle after aisle before sliding to a halt before the brown-haired woman.

“Already...?”
He said with a raised brow, just as Gojo stepped beside him, the usual smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, good thing we brought her along huh... got better luck than us.” Gojo commented.

“Oi, don’t rub it in—”
Subaru groaned, but his feet were already carrying him toward Shaula’s voice.

Gojo let out a low whistle as his gaze landed on the tome tucked into the shelf. It was thicker than the others by far, though otherwise unremarkable—plain cover, dark spine, no gilded markings to hint at its weight.

“Well, I guess we got lucky. Though seriously, couldn’t they put the ‘legendary heroes’ in a separate aisle? Talk about poor management.” Gojo groaned.

Shaula tilted her head with exaggerated innocence.
“Ahhh, master, master~ he’s mocking youuu...”

Subaru gave her a flat look, deadpan.
“... Uh-huh. Anyway, it should be obvious who’s checking this book, right?”

Gojo nodded, unbothered.
“As much as I’d love to peek into the sword-freak’s diary, you’re the one who needs answers the most. So yeah, you.”

“Right...” Subaru muttered, stepping closer. His gaze lingered on the tome, unease prickling at the back of his neck. It sat there like it had been waiting all this time—waiting for him. “Okay, you guys better keep an eye out. Just in case someone decides to ambush us.”

“An attack, huh?” Gojo shrugged. “Well, at least that’d be exciting.”

Subaru reached out. His fingers brushed the spine, then closed around it. The moment he pulled the tome free, the world tilted. That familiar heaviness crashed into him—like someone had pressed his off-switch. His knees buckled, and Gojo caught him with casual ease, lowering him to the ground.

---

White.

Blinding, endless white.

Subaru blinked, staggering upright. No shelves. No books. No flashing images of someone’s life. Just infinite emptiness stretching in every direction.

“This... isn’t right...” he muttered. The trial with Reid had been bizarre, sure, but this? This was wrong. “Where are the memories? Where’s Reid? Why am I... still me?”

His voice echoed, thin and eerie in the void. He shouldn’t be able to speak. He shouldn’t even be here, wherever, whatever here was.

And yet—he was.

“... What... is this?”

Then—

“Well, well, well... so you are back, hm? Interesting black-haired big brother, truly? Of course it is true, truly yes...”

The childish voice rang out, sharp enough to freeze Subaru in place. He whipped around, eyes wide.

Standing there was a girl he had never seen before—or at least, not like this.

Draped in white so pale it seemed woven from the void itself, her golden hair poured down her back and across the floor in a tidal wave that stretched endlessly. Her skin had a sickly pallor, and her grin split wide with jagged, shark-like teeth that glistened as she spoke.

“Ahhh... you, you—you are very calm, aren’t you? Considering this strange situation, hello, yes hello. Of course, how else should I put it...?”

The casual, almost playful rhythm of her voice sent a chill racing down Subaru’s spine. He’d heard someone talk like this before. Too fast. Too repetitive. Too delighted by everything and nothing.

“Answer me.” Subaru said, forcing his tone steady. His fists clenched. “And answer this too, what is this place?”

The girl’s golden eyes widened, then narrowed into crescents. She swayed slightly, both hands cupped behind her back, almost like a child playing at being coy.

“Ahhh... yes, of course. Sorry, sorry~ This lonely, lonesome... yes, very lonely white place is the final destination of the soul itself~ The Cradle of Od Lagna. The Hall of Memories.”

The words meant nothing to him, but her tone made his blood run cold.

“Almost forgot, yes yes yes~”
She leaned forward, her grin stretching impossibly wide, malice dripping from every syllable.

And Subaru suddenly remembered where he’d seen teeth like that before. His heart lurched.

“—You...”

“—We are, a Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult... representing Gluttony.” Her voice rang out, childlike and cruel all at once. She spread her arms wide, golden hair rippling like a flood across the void.

“Louis Arneb~”

Subaru felt anger surge through him. Gluttony? Another one? This made three now. Unlike the others, though, he couldn’t sense that Louis Arneb was particularly strong, not in the way Lye had been. Still… something about her unsettled him, gnawed at the edge of his instincts.

Louis’s head tilted to the side, her smile unwavering.
“Mmmm~ what’s this… anger? Is this anger? Ahhh… you must be angry. Why? Why why why? I want to know… I want to see… to taste why you are angry, tsu~”

“Tsck—” Subaru scowled, instantly shifting into a defensive stance, eyes narrowing.

“Oh… my, my, my bad, big brother~ that was bad, wasn’t it? Looking at me like that… it— it it it really hurts, you know? Because even we—we get hurt. Our hearts are frail, very very frail, and need to be satiated, mhm.”

She didn’t move a step closer, yet her voice made it feel as if the air itself leaned in. Her head swayed slightly.
“Now, now… yes, now, definitely now… it should be now? Your turn, yes, your turn~”

Subaru frowned.
“… My turn?”

“Mhm, yes, exactly! We call it ‘common courtesy’ mhm~ your name… that is… surely sweet, delectable~ tsu~”

He clenched his jaw. No way was he giving a monster like this—no matter how small, harmless, or childlike she appeared—his name. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, the saying ran through his mind.

“… Ah—ah… we find that saddening, disappointing, in fact~ we have been isolated here for so so sooo long, but we have better manners than big brother?” Louis continued, her tone sing-song yet undeniably threatening.

“Why are you calling me that?” Subaru growled. “Last I checked, I was an only son…”

“Oh~ oh… we can’t really help it~ so just ignore it, yep~ mhm.”

Subaru shook his head, keeping his guard raised, arms ready.
“Why am I here? What do you want?”

“Ahh… so… so so so many questions. But that is expected, obviously~” Louis draped an arm across her chest, a grin widening unnaturally on her face. “We~ wish to know you… to understand you~ We believe that can help… satiate us~”

Subaru’s brows furrowed. The words were eerily familiar, a mirrored madness from the Gluttony twin he’d fought before. The theme was clear. But what their power actually did? That remained a mystery. Lye hadn’t shown anything resembling what it might be, so Subaru had nothing to go off of.

“You want to understand me? Why me? There are a lot more interesting people around.”

“Mnhh~ we… we—we, we, we… would have to disagree with that one~ we find… yes, find… truly find… you, really find you interesting~ that’s all~”

Subaru’s fists clenched tighter, stepping forward despite the pit of unease twisting in his stomach.
“Yeah, bullshit. You and your entire cult are a bunch of sickos and weirdos. I’m not getting involve into whatever insane shit you’re planning, so get me out of this place already.”

Louis tilted her head, one hand raising to her chin, grinning wider.
“Ahh… so sorry, big brother~ Not yet. We… we might not be able to talk to you for a whiiiiiile otherwise~ mhm…”

Subaru just scowled, clicking his tongue.
“Subaru. That’s my name.”

Louis Arneb tilted her head, eyes widening with a manic glint. A heartbeat later, she licked her lips, her voice dripping with twisted amusement.
“Ahhhhh… truly…? Is it true? Yes, yes… it must be true, of course, of course~ Subaru… thank you for the meal~”

Subaru raised a brow, feeling a strange scratching sensation along his skull, fleeting but disorienting.
“…?”

His guard snapped back up as soon as Louis began to move, her hands tucked behind her back, circling him like a predator.
“Mn… you are an only child, as you said~ we wondered what it was like, yes we did~ now we know, yes we know, indeed we know… it is very lonely, quite lonely, certainly lonely—yes~ it is like this white void. We can understand your curiosity, as someone who has a sibling, mhm.”

“…What are you—”
Subaru’s brows furrowed, unease prickling through him.

“With the time that has passed since you came here… it is possible that you have a little brother or sister in the making, though~” Louis said, grinning, her golden hair trailing behind her as she circled around him, each step deliberate.

“…What did you just say…?”

Nervousness shot through Subaru, chills crawling down his spine. His body tensed.

“Kenichi~” she muttered softly.

Subaru’s eyes widened.

“Naoko~” she continued, each syllable deliberate, reverberating like a ghostly echo.

Those were his parents’ names. How did she—

“You—!!” he stammered, piecing it together. “You got that from my name…?” The headache, the momentary daze, the lapse in focus—it all made sense now.

“Mhm~ big brother must have a lot of happy memories, happy—a big family. You still remember~? This hasn’t happened before… truly, this is unprecedented—tsu~”

She licked her lips again, eyes glinting with something unreadable.
“We knew you were interesting, Subaru, yes—yes, yes, yes—but this… this, maybe this, possibly this, certainly, definitely this! A happy family~ It must be so delightful, tsu~”

She paused, glancing at Subaru’s trembling fist before smirking and continuing her slow stride, golden hair flowing behind her like liquid sunlight.
“You are really apologetic about your family, yes~? You must miss them, not even a word, a last goodbye before you came here~ sad, very sad, truly sad~”

“Though we still lack sufficient memory of Subaru, it should be right… no—it is, yes, yes—it is right to say we know you the best now~” Louis nodded, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous curiosity.

Subaru’s breath caught, fists tightening until his knuckles whitened. Every word Louis spoke burrowed into his chest, like tiny daggers slicing through his memory and sanity. He wanted to move, to strike, to shove her away—but the words rooted him in place.

“Ohhh~ you think you can handle it, big brother, but we wonder, wonder, wonder… how long can one heart bear the weight of loneliness?” Louis cooed, circling him like a predator, her golden hair brushing the air around him. “You cannot see them again, can you? Not even a single word, a single look… gone, gone, gone~”

Subaru swallowed hard, a trembling pulse running through his jaw. “I-I… that’s… that’s not true…” he muttered, voice barely audible.

“Ahhh~ oh, but it is true, isn’t it?” Louis tilted her head, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Your Kenichi, your Naoko… oh, they never knew you’d be trapped here. Never. And even if they had… oh, would it have mattered? Not a single touch, a single laugh, shared together… all of it lost. Gone, Subaru~ gone~”

Her pace slowed, stepping closer. “Do you feel it, hm? That cold, heavy weight pressing down in your chest? That tiny, bitter taste of being forever alone? Mmm~ such a fascinating, tasty emotion…”

Subaru’s head spun, heart hammering. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but her words dug deeper than any blade. The ache of separation, of missed goodbyes, clawed at him from within.

“You see… we’ve watched you, thought about you, dreamed about you… and yet, here you are, trapped in this white, empty nothing, facing us instead. Can you feel it? The emptiness? Oh yes, it must tastes divine, it should, it could, it certainly could!”

He staggered back instinctively, chest heaving, the white void around them feeling tighter, smaller, suffocating.

“And yet…” Louis crouched slightly, eyes gleaming with unnatural curiosity, “You try, don’t you? Try to hold onto the warmth, the love, the memories… but how long will it last, Subaru? How long before despair seeps in, and your soul—your precious soul—accepts that it is… alone?”

Subaru’s voice cracked, raw with fear and frustration, but fury pushed him forward. In a heartbeat, he lunged at Louis, one hand clamping around her small neck, pinning her frail body against the cold, endless white of the void.

She felt no heavier than a child, fragile, breakable. And yet… Subaru found himself unable to crush her. Unable to end her. Why? What was it about her, about this tiny, predatory form, that made it impossible to strike with lethal intent?

“Ahkk~ tsu~ amazing, it’s amazing… isn’t it amazing, so very amazing, yes, it’s amazing~” Louis cooed, voice lilting, childlike.“We—want to taste big brother so badly… yes, mhm~ all of those precious memories… they must be so sweet, yes, sweet~ fulfilling, appetizing, delectable, delightful~”

“…Shut up—shut the hell up, damn it! What is it about my memories, huh? Is it the same with every person you eat or what!?” Subaru snarled, teeth gritted. His grip held, steady, yet it never tightened. It shouldn’t be this difficult.

Now he understood at least part of her power. That strange, invasive itch in his head after giving her his name… she had already stolen a portion of his memories. He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought: if he had given his full name… would he be a hollow shell now? His identity, his past, devoured in one stroke.

“Ahhh… no, no, no, no… it is not that, we find you… delectable… appetizing… special~ yes, very special, super special, incredibly special, so very very special!” Louis’s grin widened, impossibly sharp, glinting in the void. Her words were sugar and venom intertwined, each syllable designed to twist him inside out.

“Urk…” Subaru’s chest heaved. His pulse pounded like a drum in his skull, his mind screaming at him to strike, to end this… but every instinct, every ounce of reason, recoiled.

“The strength in your arm has faded, big brother~ so you can’t? You can’t do it? Why can’t you do it?” Louis tilted her head, her voice soft, teasing, pressing into him like an invasive thought, her golden hair pooling across the endless white floor below.

Subaru’s eyes flitted across her face, looking for some tell, some weakness—but there was none. Only that grin, that predatory playfulness that cut deeper than any blade. Every word, every motion was designed to fracture his focus, to lure him into complacency. To make him give up himself, piece by piece.

“I—why…?!” he growled, mind spiraling, heart hammering. “Why are you doing this?! What do you want from me?!”

Louis’s laughter bubbled up, high-pitched, almost childish, but it carried a weight that made the void itself tremble.
“Mhm~ what do we want, you ask? We want it all, big brother~ yes, all of you! Every fear, every secret, every cherished memory, every hidden thought~ everything that makes you… you! Tsu~”

Her words were like claws scraping at his mind. He could feel them burrowing, digging past defenses he didn’t even know he had, teasing him with glimpses of his family, his friends, his failures. Each fragment pulled him closer to the edge.

Subaru’s grip faltered for just a heartbeat—and Louis’s grin widened, sharp teeth gleaming like shards of glass.

“Ohhh~ that hesitation~ delicious hesitation~ don’t worry, big brother… it only makes the meal even more satisfying~ yes~”

Subaru’s chest heaved, his mind a storm of panic, anger, and the remnants of stolen memories. For a heartbeat, he felt the void closing in, Louis’s words burrowing like claws, scraping at his identity. He felt hollow, shaken, as if the world itself wanted to swallow him whole.

And then—something inside snapped. Not in fear, not in despair, but in sheer defiance.

No. I am not…  that easy to be swayed.

The thought surged like lightning through his chest. Memories, fears, past regrets—they were pieces of him, yes, but Louis could not claim them. Not if he refused. Not if he fought.

Subaru’s fingers tightened around the small child’s neck—not to crush, but to stabilize himself. His gaze sharpened. Every flicker of doubt, every invasive thought Louis had planted, he rooted out, one by one. He inhaled, slow, steady, feeling the adrenaline recalibrate into clarity.

“Listen… you’re not taking any more of me, understand?” he said, voice low, firm. Not angry. Not pleading. Commanding. “Every memory, every thought you try to take? Mine. Mine! And I will not let you… or anyone… have it!”

Louis blinked, her grin faltering—just long enough for Subaru to notice. That pause was all he needed.

"What...? How? You? This isn’t right… no, this definitely isn’t right, certainly not right, not right at all. We were so close~ you breaking, it was an arm’s reach away."

Subaru scoffed, eyes narrowing.
“If I was that easy, I would’ve given up way sooner. But here I still stand!”

He bellowed, the roar echoing through the void—through every nightmare he had survived. If he were fragile, he’d have folded against Elsa, against Reinhard’s relentless assaults, against Reid Astrea. Yet here he stood, scarred, bruised, and bloody—but unbroken. His power was not flawless yet, but his mind… his mind was steel, infallible.

The void around him shivered, twisting violently. Darkness erupted, swallowing the expanse just as abruptly as when he had first arrived. Whispers, voices, clawing at his consciousness.

Don’t think this is over, Subaru!

You won’t escape—your memories, your life… you belong to us, tsu~

Big brother will come for you~

---

Subaru’s eyes snapped open, chest heaving, mind racing—but he was back. The Library. The rows of endless books stretching above him. Shaula and Gojo leaned over his prone form, expressions caught between worry and amusement.

“You’re awake!” Shaula exclaimed, grinning.

“…Yes.” Subaru rasped, neck stiff, muscles aching. He rubbed at it, glancing sharply at Gojo.

“You couldn’t have given me something to rest on, huh?” he growled, voice laced with exhaustion.

“Pff—no way! Can’t have my clothes getting muddied like that you know.” Gojo replied with a smirk.

“Wha—” Subaru began, but Gojo waved him off.

“Anyway, how’d it go? You get what you want? Reid’s memories? A weakness?”

Subaru hesitated, trying to put the whirlwind of the void and Louis’s manipulations into words.
“…Uhh…”

Subaru tilted his head, before leaning further upright.
“Well… this is gonna be hard to explain.”

Notes:

Another day, another chapter.

Chapter 41: Gluttonous.

“—So let me get this straight.”
Gojo’s ever-familiar, lazy drawl rang in Subaru’s ears, but there was a subtle edge beneath it. He was trying to make sense of what Subaru had just unloaded on him.

“After touching Reid’s Book of the Dead, instead of getting his memories, you wound up in some white mindscape, where a yellow-haired brat—who also happens to be a Sin Archbishop—decided she wanted to eat you?”

Subaru just nodded, dead serious, as if describing what he had for breakfast.

“I don’t mean literally… or maybe I do, who knows. Point is—she wanted my memories. And she got some, after I slipped my last name.” He tapped the side of his head repeatedly with his index finger. “I can feel the holes. They’re small, but they’re there.”

His jaw tightened. “The missing bits? They’re all from before I came here—my parents, my old life. If I’d given her my full name, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be standing here right now. Or maybe I would, but it wouldn’t be me anymore, you know?”

He hated how much that stung to say. His life on Earth, the ties to his parents partially missing, chewed on by some golden-haired freak in a child’s body. He’d been suspicious, and still he slipped up. One mistake, and he lost a piece of himself he could never get back.

Gojo tilted his head in that infuriatingly casual way.
“Mhm… so?”

“…So?” Subaru blinked.

“Now what? You gonna keep sulking here, or are you planning to actually do something about Reid?”

Subaru’s brow twitched, but he shook his head and sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to that. But first—I need to tell you something.”

He found himself glancing around, as if waiting for Shaula to show herself and leap out straight onto his body, yet she never came.
“Where's Shaula?”

Gojo raised a brow, before nodding.
“Well while you were busy snoozing apparently some stuff was going down outside the tower so Shaula's off to... do her job? I guess?”

Subaru tilted his head, perhaps this had something to do with Gluttony, Lye Batenkaitos, infiltrating the tower. He was most likely busy healing from the constant beatings against Reid in the last loop, thus he'd never realized what was happening before until it was too late and costed Shaula her life.

“…Alright. You remember what I said before—back in the library, when you tried to peek into my book? About that thing I couldn’t tell you?”

Gojo’s posture shifted ever so slightly, hands still in his pockets, head cocked.
“Yeah. The ‘dangerous if I say it out loud’ thing.”

Subaru’s throat went dry. But he nodded.
“Well… something’s changed. I found out I can tell you. Don’t ask me why. But listen, Gojo-sensei—this doesn’t leave us. Not a word. Not a hint. This is the kind of secret that will be very very bad if told to anyone else.”

Gojo gave the smallest of nods, silent. Waiting.

Subaru’s heart hammered. He swallowed, then forced it out.
“…I can Return by Death.”

The words fell heavy, as though even the library itself was holding its breath. Subaru instinctively glanced around, waiting for the Witch’s suffocating grip, for the black hands to strangle his lungs. But—nothing. Only silence.

He pressed on, voice low but steady.
“Every time I die… I reset. Not always to the same point, but usually the day before, sometimes more or sometimes less. I’ve seen you die. I’ve seen the world almost end. I’ve had to crawl through that nightmare again and again just to make it here.”

He swallowed hard.
“That’s my reality.”

Gojo’s lips were pursed, expression unreadable under the blindfold. Several long seconds ticked by. Then, finally, he lifted a hand, rubbing the side of his head.

“…Okay. Yeah, I can tell you’re not lying.” His voice was calm, but laced with something different than his usual mockery. “That’s… one hell of a cheat code you know..”

He stopped Subaru from speaking just then with a raised palm.
“Don’t answer. I don’t need the details. It all clicks now—your freaky knowledge, the times you know things no one should, the way you act like you’ve seen it all before. Hell, judging by that twitch in your face just now, I have probably said this exact line to you already, haven’t I?”

Subaru’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.

Gojo let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Weird. But makes sense. …So, why me? Why could you tell me, but not anyone else?”

Subaru’s eyes sharpened.
“That’s the thing. Before you, I only ever tried with Emilia. The moment I spoke—time froze. Next thing I knew, she was dead, I fled from the mansion, Puck was freezing literally everything, you showed up swinging, Regulus was there… yeah. You get the picture.”

Gojo exhaled slowly.
“…So telling anyone else is basically pulling the pin on the apocalypse.”

“Exactly. But with you? For some reason, it sticks. Maybe ‘cause we’re both from Japan, maybe because we landed in this world at the same time—I don’t know.”

Gojo hummed.
“Yeah… that day with Elsa, in that old building. That was your first day too, huh?”

Subaru nodded. His expression hardened.
“And there’s more. In the last loop—Shaula died. You got angry. The entire tower started shaking. Reid was out of the trial room, fighting Witchbeasts. You thought he was the killer—but he wasn’t. I ran into the real one. We fought. And—I actually landed a solid hit before kicking the bucket.”

Gojo’s head tilted.
“…That why you were asking me weird questions earlier?”

Subaru rubbed his neck, wincing.
“…Yeah.”

Satoru let out a low breath.
“So… who was the real one? The killer, I mean?”

“Ahh… that’s—”

Subaru froze. Not because he wanted to. The floor itself trembled under his feet, faint at first, but growing sharper, more deliberate. Not enough to topple anything, or even on the intensity of the trembling in the previous loop… but enough to feel wrong.

His blood ran cold.

Shit. No, no, no—did I misjudge the return point? Already? Is Shaula… dead?

“Fuck—Gojo-sensei, find Shaula!”

Normally, Gojo would’ve laughed, tossed in a smug remark, maybe even teased him for the sudden panic. But one look at Subaru’s eyes—hard, desperate, deadly serious—was enough. Without a word, Gojo vanished from sight, his body accelerating so quickly the wind slammed Subaru’s hair back like a jet stream tearing past.

---

Gojo cut through the tower’s halls, movements sharp, rotations seamless as he bent corners without losing speed. The mana in the air prickled against his senses—Shaula’s mana. Faint, but there.

So Subaru’s died before. Shaula’s died before. I've died before. He’s not making this up that's for sure. Those “loops” are busted as hell… and I’m the overpowered one he says?

He slid to a halt, head tilting toward what looked like solid stone wall. To anyone else, it was nothing. To the Six Eyes, it was obvious.

A veil. A door hidden in plain sight. Gojo ducked beneath, stepping out into the roaring winds of a high balcony. And there—arms outstretched, hair whipping and grinning gleefully—was Shaula.

“—Infinitied Hells Snipe!!”

The air behind her warped with hundreds of condensed mana blasts, white spheres forming like a swarm of miniature suns. They tore free at once, firing downward in a storm of light as each discharge echoing like shattering glass across the sandy skies.

Gojo whistled low.
“…Well, that’s one way to say hello.”

Below, the desert writhed. A tide of witchbeasts—feral, countless, utterly suicidal—rushed the tower’s base. Shaula’s bombardment tore through them, white lances skewering bodies in rapid succession, blood bursting into mist with each impact. But for every beast cut down, another leapt forward, clawing over the corpses of its  mangled kin.

“What the shit is going on…?!”
Subaru’s voice cut in as he stumbled onto the balcony, eyes wide at the sight of the endless slaughter below.

Gojo raised a brow.
“This didn’t happen before?”

Subaru’s silence was the answer to that question. Something had shifted. And it wasn’t in their favor.

“Master! Heeey, master~! What do you think of my services, hmmm?! Pretty cool, right?!” Shaula’s voice rang high, almost gleeful, even as her magic burned the desert red and misty far below.

“Err—yeah, sure! Keep it up, Shaula!” Subaru shouted back. “Focus on keeping them down!”

“Yes, masteeeer~!”

Gojo stepped forward, arm raised lazily. His fingers formed a gun shape, an orb of vermilion humming at the tip.
“Guess I’ll help tidy up.”

He fired. A single blast of Red obliterated dozens of beasts in one go, the sheer repulsive force flattening the desert in a circular crater. Without pause, he fired again. And again. And again. The ground quaked with every impact, witchbeasts getting flattened like paper under Gojo's artillery fire.

“…Damn pests.”
Gojo muttered, rolling his shoulders as he reset his energy with constant surges of Reverse Cursed Technique.

“Sensei!” Subaru called out, straining to be heard over the thunderous bombardment. “I don’t wanna be that guy, but—there’s no way they’re only hitting this side of the tower!”

Gojo clicked his tongue.
“…You’re probably right.”

That was all Subaru needed to hear. He spun on his heel and bolted, sprinting back into the tower. His chest burned, mind racing, footsteps echoing.

---

He ran and he ran and he ran at top speed through the halls, his chest heaving, not from exhaustion but sheer nervousness and confusion, eventually he found himself slowing despite the clear severity of the entire situation.

Meeting Louis Arneb… did that really speed everything up? Shift the timeline forward a whole damn day? No—this is different too, it's even worse than what happened, last time there were only those fiery centaurs that Reid was fighting, Gojo and that red madman cleaned them up real quick.

The hall narrowed. His breathing slowed. Instinct told him to stop.

This feels familiar. Too familiar…

STEP- STEP- STEP-

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Brown hair. Green eyes. A swaying, deliberate gait. His features could’ve been charming, handsome even—if not for the madness swimming in his gaze. A glint Subaru had already seen in Louis Arneb.

Lye Batenkaitos.

“Ahaaa~! If it isn’t the main dish itself~!” The Sin Archbishop sang, words dripping with madness. “We have been waiting—eagerly waiting—to taste you. Because, because—yes, because—you looked after little sister for a while, isn't it~”

That grin. That voice. It was Louis’s reflection in a cracked mirror. That same green-eyed mad man he'd faced once before in the last loop and annoyingly even died to.

Subaru’s eyes narrowed, his stance steady despite the storm raging in his chest.
“…Heh. Figures. I can tell you’re related. The same rotten stink and maddening look in your eye.”

“Ah, yes—you’re right, probably right, definitely right, certainly right, absolutely ri—!”

Lye’s rambling was cut short this time. Subaru didn’t hesitate, didn’t let the Archbishop dictate the rhythm this time around. He exploded forward, cursed energy surging along his leg as he brought it down in a crushing overhead arc.

“Tsu—?!”

Lye tucked his knees, springing backward with inhuman agility. His daggers flashed silver in the darkness, snapping up like fangs. He darted back in—low, sharp, snake-fast. A thrust for Subaru’s ribs.

Steel met skin.

Subaru caught the strike with his forearm, cursed reinforcement dampening the blade’s edge. It bit in—an inch, maybe two—enough to draw blood, but not to cripple. Pain flared, white-hot, but Subaru pushed through, twisting into a knee strike aimed at Lye’s midsection.

Blocked.

The Archbishop laughed, licking his lips as he hopped back again.
“Ahhh~ very strange, incredibly strange, super strange, impossibly strange! That cut should have gone clean through—but it didn’t! Nope nope nope, not you, not this one, tsu~!”

Rather than fear, his grin widened. His tongue slipped past his teeth, long, hungry, savoring the taste of the fight itself.

He stepped forward, savoring each word.
“Knowledge is strength, POWER~! Memories are bonds, threads, strings that make people, form people, are people! And we—we EAT! Eat, drink, devour, gluttonous gorging, tsu~!”

The next step Lye was simply gone.

He blurred, a streak of shadow cutting through the darkness, and slammed his foot into Subaru’s gut. The blow launched him backward, skidding across stone, ribs rattling from the impact.

“Ghkk—!”
Subaru spat, breath forced from his lungs. His knees bent, body tensed, forcing air back into his chest.

Fast. Just as fast as I remember. This won’t be easy.

His hands trembled—then steadied. Cursed energy and the Witch’s miasma pulsed in unison, swelling inside him like twin storms colliding.

“Haahhh—” Subaru hissed, the corners of his lips twitching into a grimace that was almost a grin. “I can return by—rhkk!”

He launched forward, even faster than before. Lye’s eyes widened, just slightly, as Subaru’s movements spiked beyond expectation.

Daggers swept. Subaru bent, weaving, ducking. A silver edge whistled above his head, shaving strands of black hair. He snapped upward with a fist, raw power behind the strike.

Blocked by Lye’s knee. The impact rang sharp through the stone as the Archbishop flipped, pushing off the ceiling and diving like a hawk.

Subaru raised his arm—

CLANG—!

Not flesh. Not bone. Darkness itself had solidified across his arm, forming a shield that caught the dagger clean.

“…Tsu?!” Lye’s green eyes widened, just for a heartbeat.

Subaru’s fist hammered down in the next instant, shattering stone in an imprint where Lye had been.

He flickered. Pure speed, gone in a blur once again.

Subaru hissed as pain cut across his left arm—shallow, but clean. He pivoted, lashing out, only to have his punch intercepted and another blade flash toward his side. Subaru disengaged, bending low, teeth gritted as he forced distance between them.

For a moment, silence. The two circled, predators gauging each other in the gloom.

He’s fast—but not consistent. His strength spikes, dips, shifts like he’s pulling from different bodies, different skills. Eating memories… yeah. That’s it. He’s stitching together stolen techniques. No wonder I can’t predict him.

Lye tilted his head, daggers twirling lazily between his fingers, grin never faltering.
“You’re having trouble, big trouble, delicious trouble, tsu~! We can’t blame you, can’t fault you, no no no~!”

Choosing not to reply, Subaru exhaled, steady but sharp.
“I can return by—hrrk!!”

The words came again, reckless and taboo. The surge of miasma flooded outward, purple-black streaks spiraling like burning chains around his shoulders.

Then—

STOMP-!

Darkness burst from his heel, a spike over a meter wide erupting from the top of Subaru's foot and lunging at Gluttony.

“Tsu—!”

The Archbishop kicked off the spike, feet grazing the surface of the darkness for half a heartbeat before he vaulted skyward, daggers flashing at the sensation of danger. He carved through the shadows with rapid slashes, shattering branch after branch of congealed darkness.

But it was distraction.

“Gh—!” Lye’s eyes widened just before Subaru’s fist slammed into his ribs, driving him downward like a meteor. Blood sprayed as he skidded across stone, but he twisted, rebounding without hesitation.

Clash. Spark. Step. Strike.

The hallway rang with steel and fists colliding at impossible speed.

Stronger—but he’s faster. Faster, and way more skilled.

A sting—Subaru’s cheek opened, red spilling.
A graze—his fist clipped Lye’s shoulder.

And then Lye changed. His whole rhythm shifted—stance, momentum, even the angle of his grin. It wasn’t one fighter anymore; it was like fighting a whole other person after every string of attacks.

“—Tsu!”
His palm darted through Subaru’s guard, faster than the eye could track.

BAM-!

Air exploded from Subaru’s lungs as the strike crushed into his stomach. Blood surged up his throat, and before he could collapse, the dagger twisted forward—wind coiling along its edge like a living serpent.

“Enuma Elish, tsu~!”

“—!?”

The blade roared. A cyclone howled out, a column of tearing, blade-like air that smashed Subaru full on. His body bent, bones creaked, and he was hurled spinning down the corridor before slamming into the far wall with bone-snapping force.

“Ghhhk—!” He hacked blood, dragging himself from the crater, his knees buckling but refusing to drop. “What kind of… urhhkkk—copyright infringement is this!?”

Lye was grinning, wild and gleeful, daggers dancing between his fingers.
“Hehehehe, tsu~! The appeal, the thrill, the power, the scream of it—ahhh, we understand now~! Because it is us, it is us, it is always us! Who ate Subaru, who became Subaru, who wears Subaru! Tsu~! So impressive, so powerful, so terrifyingly strong—the strongest we are~!”

Subaru’s face twisted, sweat streaking through blood.
So they share memories then. Doesn’t matter if it was Louis that ate a part of my memories—this one has access too. Damn it. Kinda regret binging the fate series now...

Subaru’s tongue lanced upward, snaking out and catching the blood that dripped from his nose—crimson mingling with the sweat already streaming down his face. Another thin line traced its way from his forehead, dripping into the corner of his left eye.

“You? Strongest? Scary? Impressive?”

His voice cracked into a bark of laughter, wild, unrestrained, shaking the chamber more than the dagger had.
“—I didn’t know you could tell a good joke, but here we are I guess!”

For a heartbeat, the world went still.

Lye’s grin faltered. His expression stilled. The endless babble of words caught in his throat, silenced by something he had not expected—not pain, not pressure, but mockery. Subaru had been blasted into a wall, bones creaking, blood spilling freely—and yet here he was, grinning like a man who welcomed it.

“You’re lying, tricking, faking, bluffing bluffing bluffing, tsu~! You should be broken, not laughing, not smiling, not standing!” Lye shrieked, voice fraying at the edges, the daggers in his hands twitching with every word.

But Subaru didn’t budge. His knees were shaking, his lungs felt like glass, and each breath was a war—but his grin refused to fade. He raised a trembling fist, wiped blood off his chin with the back of his hand, and spat red into the floor.

The Archbishop’s eye twitched. His laughter returned, sharper now, manic, like glass shards grinding against one another.
“Ahhh~! We see it now, we see it, we understand it, tsu~! You’re not fighting to win—you’re fighting to lose! How delicious—how insane—how utterly Subaru!”

He leaned forward, tongue slithering out as his daggers lifted, light catching on their edges.
“We’ll carve you up, chew you down, eat your screams, your blood, your bones, every last piece of you—until not even death will take you, tsu~!”

Subaru’s grin widened, teeth flashing in the gloom. His voice was a low, dangerous rasp.
“...Then come try it.”

Lye’s green eyes twitched—something like irritation flaring across them—and he stepped forward. In the blink between his motion and Subaru’s breath, he vanished, closing the distance in an instant.

“—I CAN RETURN BY—HRKK!?” Subaru roared, the taboo ripping out of him like a razor. The world convulsed at that word, madness threatening to swallow Subaru whole: his fists slammed into the brick floor with such violence the stone split, cracks spidering outward and gouging the walls.

Lye had to alter course; the initial sprint became a short, roundabout dash. He flicked a silver arc with his dagger aimed to shear Subaru’s side—

CLASH—!

Purple claws spiraled out of Subaru’s hands, barely holding form as they met steel. The force jolted up Subaru’s arms, but his grin only widened through all the blood and the sweat. He shoved off with his foot, propelled like a battering ram; Lye went flying, and Subaru surged after him with a flurry of strikes. Each claw left jagged gouges in the bricks. Lye danced, slipped, and countered—one dagger finding flesh, tearing a line across Subaru’s arm. Blood sprayed, but Subaru didn’t flinch.

All of it registered for him as a single delicious truth: this is what he was made for all along. The ecstasy of striking, of taking damage to give it back harder. He’d denied that hunger—denied the way his chest lit when an opponent pushed him to the edge—but it now pulsed through him, intoxicating and clean.

CLANG—! CLANG—! CLANK—!

Their fight became unrelenting chaos. They sprinted the corridor like a pair of meteors, golden sparks and fragments of brick and stone raining around them. Walls threatened to crumble. The hall’s air roared with metal and force.

At the right turn they had stepped into, Subaru planted a foot against the wall and flipped—somersaulting over Lye’s downward dagger with animalistic grace. For the breath he had, a blade of wind erupted from Lye’s weapon and punched into Subaru’s guarding claws, dispersing the purple cursed energy and choking his momentum.

Subaru was sent hurtling down the hallway's right turn and steadily stumbled upright, breath ragged.
“Haaaa... I can't... this is just—”

“Tsu…? Just what? Too bad? Pitiful?”
Lye mocked, but Subaru’s reply was a tense, blood-slick grin that formed ear-to-ear as he slowly lifted one of his arms up from his side.

“—This is just too damn GOOD!!”

From Subaru’s bloodied raised palm a purple wave of energy detonated, a searing wash of miasma mixed with cursed energy that filled the corridor. It consumed everything in front of him—smoke, collapsing stone, the taste of iron on his tongue. For a heartbeat he squinted, waiting to see if it had worked.

SWOOSH—

Lye stepped from the haze like a nightmare made flesh: half his body ragged, charred, streaked with gore—but still grinning, still feral. The more punishment he took, the bolder his hunger grew.

“Rhh—meal, main course—yes yes, the main course! All this just makes you taste better, tsu—” he snarled.

He stamped the scorched bricks, then blurred forward.

One dagger lunged for Subaru’s gut—but Subaru didn’t pull away, instead, he'd positioned his hand in the daggers trajectory and allowed it to strike. The blade slammed through him, ripping muscle and bone and poking out the other side of his palm. Subaru didn’t scream. He clenched the hilt with vice-like grip and shoved. With his free hand he seized the side of Lye’s head and shoved them both toward the nearby wall.

BOOM—!

Lye’s skull met stone. He twisted, trying to yank the dagger free; Subaru used the pain as leverage and drove his weight again and again. Lye’s counterstrike nicked and hacked, but Subaru kept bashing, headbutting until the wall’s surface fractured and spiders of rubble fell.

Lye’s face became a ruin under Subaru’s onslaught—teeth shattered, jaw and facial bones cracking—yet he still scrambled, slashing, twisting, trying to wrench himself loose. Subaru pushed until the brick gave way entirely. The corridor collapsed in a tumble of mortar and dust, burying them both.

For a second there was only the grinding hush of falling stone and the wet, ragged sound of broken breath. Subaru’s own forehead split where it had struck; blood mixed with dust and trickled down into his eye. He pushed his hand through the debris, tasting grit and iron, and felt for movement.

Strands of brown hair. A twitch beneath it.

Subaru hauled himself up through the rubble, raw lungs burning, muscles screaming. He spat blood and laughed—a short, incredulous bark. He stood over the ruin where Lye was, blood on his knuckles, hair matted to his face, chest heaving, grin savage.

“Hah… ahahahh…” His voice cracked, rasping, drunk on the high of it all. “Take that… you little shit.”

For a moment, the silence was perfect.

Then—

“…Tsu~”

A gurgle, wet and broken, like laughter bubbling through blood. The rubble shifted as began to be pulled apart from movement. A hand twitched, bone bent at a wrong angle yet still moving as it clawed against the ground.

“…Meal… main meal, broken meal, bleeding meal… delicious, delicious, delicious, tsu~.”

The stones quivered, some sliding aside as if shoved by sheer stubborn hunger. And in that half-second where any sane person would’ve felt dread, Subaru just bared his teeth wider, his bloody grin stretching almost too far.

“Good…” he rasped, stepping forward. “That’s good. I’m not done either.”

Lye twitched as he tore himself free from the rubble. His body convulsed, not in pain but in delight—shaking with manic laughter that wheezed through shattered teeth.
“Hhhk—kahhh… ahhh! Yes yes yes, this taste, this taste, this taste—tsu~!”

His body was half limp, swaying, blood sliding down his chin, one green eye swollen half-shut. And still, that grin. That horrid grin was even more nightmarish at this point.

Subaru’s own chest heaved, each breath ragged fire in his ribs, but he stepped forward anyway. His fists trembled, not from fear but from adrenaline boiling his veins. The dust made his cuts sting like fire, but he smiled through it, lips split and dripping red.

“…The hell’s wrong with you? Normal people don’t tend to laugh when their faces get caved in.”

Lye giggled, a wet gargle, coughing pink froth.
“Normal? N-normal, ahhh, normal, very normal, quite normal, absolutely normal?! Ahaaa—nothing normal here, not in us, not in you, not ever, not ever, tsu~!”

With a snap, his body jerked upright, daggers still clutched, his head rolling loose on a half-broken neck. He snapped it back into place with a crunch that echoed down the broken hall, one that made Subaru question whether or not Lye was actually human at all.

But still, they crashed together again.

No stances, no rhythm, no finesse—just raw violence. Subaru’s claws reignited and met daggers, sparks and cursed energy scattering with each strike. Every wound bled, every hit shook their bones. Subaru let Lye’s blade bite into his side just so he could drive an elbow into Lye’s temple. Lye accepted the blow, spinning with it, using the momentum to rake a dagger up Subaru’s chest.

Blood splashed stone. Neither slowed.

Lye cackled even as Subaru’s fist split his brow wide open.

“Hahhh..”
Subaru let out a deep breath, voice breaking, but his fist drove into Lye’s ribs with such force that bone cracked like glass underfoot. They staggered apart for a heartbeat, both dripping, both trembling, both swaying like drunkards. The rubble beneath their feet crumbled with every step, hardly able to hold on for any longer.

Subaru spat a mouthful of blood and barked out a laugh that startled even himself.
“Haahh… is this what you wanted?”

Lye’s grin widened, impossibly so, green eyes glowing through the mess of blood.
“Yes yes yes—delicious, delirious, delirium—fight until nothing’s left, until only tsu~ remains, it is~”

Then they roared and surged again.

This time there was no dodging. Subaru tanked the dagger that plunged into his shoulder, pushing himself onto the blade so he could get close enough to slam his forehead into Lye’s nose again and again. Bone crunched. Blood ran down both their faces. Lye sank his teeth into Subaru’s neck, tearing a ragged chunk of flesh free, and Subaru screamed—yet even as the sound ripped out of him, his claws sank into Lye’s side, dragging deep furrows through flesh.

The two collapsed into each other, grappling violently, rolling through the rubble. Blood, grit, and shattered stone coated everything. Teeth, claws, daggers, fists—it didn’t matter. Every limb, every fragment of body and cursed energy became a weapon, a battering ram, a brutal extension of their wills.

When they finally tore apart, both staggered upright, bodies drenched in red, faces cracked and bloodied, yet grins like devils.

Subaru’s vision wavered, his body screaming to collapse—but his mind, fury, and sheer refusal would not relent.

“…You’re not getting me.” he growled, voice ragged, teeth bared. “…And I’ve got no intention of letting you leave alive.”

Lye’s head lolled, his laughter spilling from his cracked, bleeding mouth, eyes glinting with feral delight.
“No no no—hagk.. -you already belong to us, always will now, yes, mhm, yep… little sister too, and me me me me me, tsu~!”

The words hung in the chaos, a jagged echo that made Subaru’s blood hum.

Then—a sharp whistle sliced through the air. Both fighters snapped their heads to the sound. Subaru’s eyes widened. Lye’s green eyes twitched in equal shock.

From the corner, no more than two meters away, flowed a flash of crimson hair and a fiery kimono, draped casually against the wall like a predator surveying the aftermath of two rabbits fighting.

“—You, oi you, small fry, fuck're you doin' brawlin' like a dumbass?” Reid Astrea said, his voice smooth but cutting like steel.

The fiendish smile on Reid’s face was ice in Subaru’s veins, the kind that made a man instantly calculate the margin between life and death. Ecstatic though he was body buzzing with adrenaline and power—he wasn’t foolish. Reid wasn’t someone to challenge lightly. Whether he lived or died now was entirely at his discretion.

“…Fuck.” he muttered under his breath, lips tightening.

“Reid… Astreaaa… isn’t it? The first Sword Saint… the dessert after the main course, tsu~!” Lye slurred, staggering forward, his words dripping with mania as he swayed. His body was broken, yet his desire to consume, to dominate, was still raw and palpable.

Reid’s nails scraped audibly across his own chest, a casual scratch that didn't seem fitting considering the situation. His grin twitched down, and his half-lidded eyes narrowed with that strange mix of boredom and cruelty.

“Brats, brats, brats—don’t know their fuckin’ place anymore eh, y’hear me you? All y’talk about is eatin’ this, killin’ that, main course, dessert… tch. Ain’t no dinner table, you.”

The air shifted. Subaru felt it instantly—the suffocating pressure that came with Reid Astrea deciding he was annoyed. His legs wanted to buckle, his claws wavered, his breath caught in his throat. Compared to Lye’s chaotic hunger, Reid’s presence was clean, sharp, absolute. So much so the hairs on the back of his stood.

Lye staggered, his mangled face curling into a bloody grin even wider.
“Heheheheh—yes yes yes, tsu~! You’re angry, so angry, we like that, we’ll eat that, eat YOU, eat it ALL—”

“Oi.”

Reid’s voice cut him off. No rise, no roar, just a flat sound that froze Subaru’s blood.
“You shut your trap before I get real mad at you, you.”

The smirk remained, but Subaru saw it—the tiniest twitch of Reid’s fingers, like he was already picturing how easily he could carve both of them down where they stood.

Subaru swallowed, his grin fading at last.
“…Shit.”

The First Sword Saint tilted his head, fiery hair spilling across his face as his eyes slid to Subaru.
“And you, black-hair. Don’t be puffin’ your chest too hard, you. That thing you’re doin’? Bleedin’ out on the floor while pretendin’ it’s a fight? Ain’t impressin’ me you.”

Subaru’s frown grew more evident, blood dripping down his chin, but he clenched his fists anyway. His body screamed, but that refusal—that need to prove he wasn’t done—flared hotter. “…And if I keep fighting?”

Reid’s laugh was sudden, sharp, cruel.
“Real interestin' huh? Y'think all those ass-whoopings I gave y'before made us all buddy buddy or somethin' or have y'actually just grew a spine, you?”

Silence followed, thick enough that Subaru’s heartbeat drowned out the crumbling of rubble around them.

Then Lye broke it—cackling, delirious, swaying like a drunk.
“Ahhh—! Three courses, three flavors, three devils, tsu~! The first Sword Saint, the stubborn meal, and us us us us—”

In an instant, Reid moved.

The red flash was blinding, and utterly incomprehensible—his sandal cracked the stone, and suddenly he was in front of Lye. Subaru didn’t even see him cross the space. Reid’s bare hand gripped Lye’s throat, lifting the Archbishop clear off the ground like a ragdoll before a knee slammed straight against Gluttony's side, his unconscious body flailing through the air and laying flat, arms and legs wide against the ground opposite Subaru.

“…Told you once, didn’t I?” Reid muttered, voice low, eyes half-shadowed. “Shut your trap, you.”

“Now then, what shall we do about you, hrnn? I guess I got some time t'kill before leavin' this place…”

Reid's one visible eye closed as he spoke, a moment of silence stirring before it reopened and he continued, a grin manifesting.
“… One last test from me, y'hear. So give me y'best shot, black-hair.”

Notes:

Gluttony popping an Enuma Elish on anyones bingo cards?

Chapter 42: Impossible Promise.

Subaru didn’t know how much longer his body would hold out. Gashes, holes, shattered bones—he was a ruin barely standing. And yet, something deeper than pain forced him upright.

A single desire.
Not to win. Not even to live.

But to make Reid Astrea move. To make the Sword Saint acknowledge him enough to take a step back.

“—Sffhhhhh…”
He let air whistle through clenched teeth, smothering a pained groan.

“Bah—come on then, black-hair.” Reid drawled, balancing chopsticks between his fingers like a pair of blades. “What’re y’waiting for? Or y’still star-struck I bumped you up from ‘small fry’? Don’t make me change my mind, you.”

…Right. He had said that hadn't he.
Was it because I held my own against Gluttony? …But he mocked that too.

Subaru didn’t let the confusion linger. His body lurched forward in a mad dash that took all the strength in his body to simply keep him from collapsing. Mid-charge, his legs unwound in a sudden burst, his heel lancing upward toward Reid’s face—

—only to be caught effortlessly between two wooden sticks.

Reid’s eyes gleamed with a cruel sort of amusement. He blocked Subaru’s follow-up kick with his forearm, the impact echoing sharp against his skin but failing to make him budge.

“Not too shabby, black-hair. Y’ve grown a little since our last dance—”

He twirled the chopsticks back beside his head, his aura sharpening and strength surging as muscles tensed.

Then—
THRUST!

The strike shot forward like a spear—but instead of Subaru’s body folding under it like it had many times before, a metallic—CLANG—rang out. Reid blinked, feeling the reverberation crawl up his arm.

The chopsticks had struck a jet-black shield of congealed darkness on Subaru’s chest. The surface rippled, then lashed horizontally like a jagged tentacle to the point where Reid had to dip low in a sudden dodge to evade—

“—Hm?”

His eyes widened further as something coiled around his shin. Subaru’s cursed fist screamed past his chin, purple energy detonating in the air. Reid clicked his tongue and suddenly backstepped, clearing the purple beam that scorched the wall behind him with unparalleled instinct.

When he looked back, Subaru was standing with his chest heaving, eyes wide, fist still trembling from the release.

“…What’re you staring at me for like that, you? Never seen red-hair or somethin', you?” Reid snorted.

Subaru said nothing at first. Then his bloodied finger lifted, pointing straight at the Sword Saint.

“…You moved.”

“?!”

Reid blinked. His gaze dipped to the ground. Sure enough—he’d taken a single step back. Not much. Barely a stride. But still—he had moved.

“Bahhh—fuckin’ hell. Why’d you have to say that shit out loud, you? Spoiled my mood y'bastard...” Reid scratched his cheek, glaring. “So what now, eh?”

Subaru’s pupils were pinpricks, but his stare was unshakable.
“…We pick up right where we left off.”

A grin split Reid’s face, jagged and feral.

“Hah—HAHAHAHA! You—you—you bastard!” He howled, stomping the ground like a child in glee. “What the fuck were y’doin’ back in that trial room, eh? You weren’t even half this interestin' back then! Fine—”

The glint in his eye hardened. For the first time, Reid slipped into something resembling a stance—loose, casual, but undeniably a stance.

Subaru cackled in reply, blood spilling from his teeth.
Why wouldn’t he? He’d done it. He’d manage to make the first Sword Saint acknowledge him.

“Stick-swinger, Reid Astrea.”
“…Natsuki… Subaru. Remember… it well.”

For a moment, silence.

Then Reid moved.

Not a blur. Not even speed. He simply wasn’t there, and then his face was in front of Subaru’s. Chopsticks poised like fangs, an inch from Subaru’s eye. But why did Subaru not respond? Reid doubted he was moving to fast for him, sure he was holding back a bit less than before but Subaru should still be able to see him move.

Then he realized just what's going on, the chopsticks halting in place at the last possible moment.

“Ah—” Reid clicked his tongue. “Shame, you. Finally got interestin'… only to keel over now, you.”

It wasn’t surprising. Not really. Subaru had already hit his ceiling, shattered it, and clawed his way past. His body was long past its limit. The pool of blood at his feet proved it, spreading wider by the second. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, wheezing with each half-broken breath.

“U—urgh…”

He couldn’t even lift an arm. Every muscle screamed, every nerve burned. All that was left was to wait for death’s scythe to carve him apart again.

“—Tch. An annoyin' one ended up comin’ here.”

Reid’s voice. Sharp. Not irritated.
But not aimed at Subaru.

…What?

The answer came an instant later.

A blast of pure white light cut through the dark like a divine spear—straight for Subaru. He had no chance of dodging. No chance of surviving.

CLANG—!

The light split apart before it could erase him, white sparks raining across his vision. Subaru blinked, confused, as Reid Astrea casually lowered his chopsticks, scoffing.

Red glints shimmered in the shadows ahead. Then, one after another, countless legs clicked against stone, moving in eerie, perfect rhythm.

It emerged. A colossal brown scorpion, its body plated in thick armor, pincers clicking with lethal promise. Crimson compound eyes locked not on Reid—but on Subaru.

…A scorpion? Here? How—?

It didn’t matter. The witchbeast bent low, stinger poised, ready to charge. Reid didn’t move, but the thing already ignored the Sword Saint entirely, single-minded in its obvious bloodlust for Subaru.

Then—

A crack of vermillion light seared through the wall to Subaru’s right. The bricks shuddered, split, then collapsed as fire and dust erupted through the corridor. Rubble rained down, bouncing harmlessly from the scorpion’s shell.

Subaru’s vision swam. The edges of the world went black.

Through the hole stepped a figure, sliding in with a casual grace.
Gojo Satoru.

His six eyes flicked fast—first to Reid, sharp and calculating. Then to Subaru, grimacing at the bloody ruin on the floor. Finally, his gaze hardened on the titanic scorpion blocking the way.

“…Shaula.”
His voice was flat. Heavy.

Subaru’s eyes went wide, his fogging mind struggling to grasp it.
Shaula…? No… she… she betrayed us?

A traitor? Shaula of all people?

‘I love you.’

And then, nothing. That was the last thought Natsuki Subaru managed before death’s cold hand gripped him by the throat and dragged him down into silence.

---

He didn’t feel anger at Shaula’s supposed betrayal. Even now, the thought seemed impossible to him. The brown-haired girl who seemed to adore him to no end, who clung to him like a kitten unwilling to let go—the one who believed wholeheartedly that he was her master returned after four hundred years, loyalty etched into every fiber of her being.

Betrayal? From her?

Subaru’s gaze drifted across the endless horizon, his forearms pressed against the cold metal railing of the balcony. The fierce wind tangled his black hair as he turned his head, locking eyes with Shaula. She stood there smiling, reverence shining in her expression.

Was it just an act? A façade? Could everything she showed him be a lie?

Even after witnessing it with his own eyes, he couldn’t accept it. He didn’t want to. His lips tightened as he inhaled sharply.

“Shaula… if I told you to kill yourself, would you?”

“Mmhm~ if master asked me to die, then I’d just die, yup~”

The speed of her answer sent a chill through him. Subaru’s indifferent stare hardened into a frown.

“I see…”

“If master really wants me to disappear, then all he has to do is say so~” She said brightly, a hand pressed against her chest, eyes gleaming.

“—This body, this soul, my entire being belongs to master. I am Shaula, Starkeeper of the Tower. I belong only to master. Though… maybe now’s a bad time, with all the chaos happening inside, hehe~”

Her words were unwavering, yet Subaru couldn’t tell whether she spoke the truth. He looked away with a quiet sigh.

The tower itself was spiraling into madness. Reid’s trial had already collapsed into irrelevance, gluttony had come and thrown everything into chaos—it seemed impossible to advance this place the 'normal' way. But then again, when had anything been normal since he and Gojo had arrived?

Not once.

Even her name gnawed at him. Subaru had long noticed how many names here mirrored constellations from Earth—Regulus, Betelgeuse, and now, Shaula.

“Shaula. You can turn into a giant scorpion, can’t you? Is that your true form, or just a transformation?”

She tilted her head, smiling coyly.
“Mmm~ so master’s memory isn’t that bad after all despite his old age! Yup, I can. But I don’t like doing it—master made me pretty in this form, so why ruin it with that ugly body~?”

Subaru pressed his hand to his forehead, sighing heavily.
“…This is too damn troublesome…”

He stepped away from the railing, closing the distance between them until only a meter remained. His eyes were cold, cutting into her warm gaze.

“Shaula... Tell me the rules of the tower.”

For the first time, her smile faltered. She swayed, clearly unsettled, before finally nodding.

“Okiee~ First rule: you can’t leave without completing the trials. Second rule: you can’t break the rules of the trials. Third rule: no disrespecting the library. Fourth rule: never, ever cause destruction to the tower itself. And that’s all~”

Her sing-song tone rang hollow.

Subaru leaned forward.
“Then what about the fifth rule?”

Her eyes twitched. A flicker of surprise, quickly buried beneath her grin.
“Mnnn... Fifth? Master, master~ are you forgetting how to count in your old age? I’m not great with numbers either, but I know there’s no fifth rule~”

The look in her eyes told him otherwise. Subaru pressed harder.

“Shaula. Tell me.”

“Mmnnn… m-master~ when you look at me like that…”
She hugged herself, swaying, her voice trembling with something almost childlike.
“I can’t tell you. Nuh-uh. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s nothing important~”

“It matters to me. To me and Gojo-sensei, If it wasn’t important to conquering this tower, it wouldn’t exist in the first place.” Subaru said firmly.

She inhaled sharply, her voice cracking, as if restraining tears that refused to fall.
“If I tell you… then you’ll figure out the trial. You’ll conquer it. And then—then master will leave again... I waited four hundred years for you, and if you go again—I’ll be alone. I don’t… I don’t want that… I want to be with master.”

Her body trembled, the mask of her endless smile cracking.

"Shaula—"

"Ah."

Her eyes contracted like a cat's. An exhale left her lips as her eyes widened, becoming surprisingly intense.

"Ahh— ahh.. no no... master... master master master!! Someone— someone has violated the rules, hrk—"

It made sense—it was anarchy below and everything must of been following the natural flow that would happen with Reid and Gluttony if he didn't get involved. It didn't matter because he didn't intend on finishing this one.

"I'll... become a killing machine soon, master...! One with no feelings or emotions, and I'll... I'll kill master... I don't wanna, I don't wanna do that— so..."

Subaru's eyes widened. He reached out to grip her shoulders as if to keep her upright—Shaula returned the gesture with a surprisingly heavy grip around his forearms. Within her spherical eyes, the dark pupils and irises split into three, turning red and pulsating. The transfiguration occurred in both the right and left eyeballs, meaning her dark pupils and irises split into six.

"Ma— ha... master! If if if, you tell me to do it... to kill myself now, I can still—"

Shaula's words died on her lips as Subaru cut her off.

"What... What is the fifth rule...?" he asked. "—Tell me and I'll tell you to die, before you become a monster—"

Cracks of red began to seep over her skin more and more, along with steam that surged from her shoulders, joined by an immense body heat that even Subaru could feel.

"Ahh, ahh.. master~ Master is still as big of a womanizer as I can remember~" she gasped, as if trying retain her sanity and slow the transformation.

"—The Fifth rule: it is not forbidden to destroy the Trials."

"N-N-N-Now... hrkk!"
Shaula stepped back, pushing Subaru away from her with surprising force that sent him against the metal railing multiple meters away. She swayed side to side, tears welling in her now crimson eyes.

"Ma—ster, hrrkk.. now... please~"

"No."

"—!? Ah?"

"I won't kill you. Just like I won't allow you to kill me."

"Wh—at are—yo-u..?"

Subaru let out a deep breath and raised his hand. His fingers emulated the shape of a gun before he pressed it against the side of his own head, the sensation of oxygen filling his lungs as he takes a deep breath to prepare himself.

"Whooo—"

Shaula stomped her foot against the ground and leaped forward as fast as her absurd physical prowess could make her move—reaching toward Subaru with a scream in a desperate attempt to stop him.

"MASTER—!?"

Sorry for doubting you, Shaula. It won't happen again.

Red veins blackened and bulged, streaking through Subaru's entire arm before manifesting atop his fingertip as a jagged spike that instantaneously tore through his entire dome in one blast, skull, brain and all. But once again, black-haired sorcerer vowed to save everyone he held dear, no matter what it would take, no matter how many deaths, no matter how many failures.

He will win.

---

Gojo’s gaze drifted toward Subaru, lying unconscious on the library floor with Reid Astrea’s massive Book of the Dead clenched tight in both hands. It had been nearly an hour since Subaru collapsed.

Gojo had worried for a bit—but Subaru’s steady heartbeat reassured him. If anything, he figured it had to do with the book. After all, messing with Reid’s memories couldn’t be good for your health.

Still…

He yawned.
Didn’t make waiting any less boring.

Shaula had run off to who-knows-where, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Then his Six Eyes twitched—the faintest flicker of movement.

“…Finally.”

Subaru jolted awake, body snapping upright like he’d been electrocuted. His eyes darted around.
“HAH—A-ah… the… library?”

“Yup. Library.” Gojo stretched, bones popping as he stood. He held out a hand, hauling Subaru to his feet. “About time, too. I’ve been dying of boredom here.”

His grin sharpened.
“So? What’d you see in Reid’s little diary? Any juicy weaknesses? Cheat codes to surviving the trial?”

Not that he expected any. A guy like Reid certainly didn’t do weaknesses.

“Hm—ah…” Subaru reached toward him, but his hand stopped short against the invisible cushion of Infinity. His expression eased. “My bad. Just making sure I was really back.”

“…Hah?”

Gojo stared blankly. Then, without warning, he slammed a chop down on Subaru’s head.

“GAhk—!”
Subaru staggered back, clutching his skull.

“You awake now, or are you gonna try pinching my cheeks next?” Gojo teased, grinning ear to ear.

Subaru blinked several times, then his expression hardened.
“…Yeah. The book. Right.”

He inhaled sharply.
“I couldn’t see Reid’s memories. Something—or someone—blocked me. Instead, I ended up in this place called the Hall of Memories, connected to Od Lagna. Some kind of pathway for souls, I think. But the most important part—”

He looked Gojo dead in the eye.
“—Gluttony. The Sin Archbishop. He’s declared war on us.”

Subaru rattled off everything he’d seen, what he remembered from past loops, and the cost of brushing against Louis Arneb. Losing pieces of himself. The brink of annihilation.

And then—

“…Gojo-sensei.” His voice dropped, trembling slightly, but steady with resolve. “I can Return by Death.”

Gojo froze. For once, his bandaged gaze faltered.
“…Come again?”

For a moment, he thought his beyond superhuman senses had lied to him for once. Because the absurdity of what Subaru said didn’t fit into any logic he knew or could understand.

But Subaru pressed on, laying out their problems one by one.

Witchbeasts in overwhelming numbers, breaching the tower.
Gluttony, hunting Subaru’s name and memories.
Shaula, turning into an uncontrollable murder machine that seems to be mainly after him.
And Reid Astrea, running amok, ignoring friend and foe alike, chasing nothing but his own twisted fun.

By the end of it, Gojo had a hand over his forehead, chuckling in disbelief.
“…Pff. Hah. Aahahaha… Subaru, you…” He sighed. “This sounds so damn unbelievable. And yet—”

“It makes sense. Right?” Subaru grinned faintly. “And I can prove it. You remember how I mentioned Reid? Quite soon, he’s going to leave the trial room. When he does, I need you waiting there to stall him. Because he’s about to start raising hell.”

Gojo tilted his head, scratching it in annoyance.
“Asking me to stall against Reid is a tall order Subaru, I can probably last a fair amount of time but annoyingly, I'm not exactly confident about beating him in a one-on-one.”

Subaru just nodded.
“I know, I know. It's all I can think of right now though, you'll be stalling against Reid, and I'll be taking out Gluttony.”

Gojo leant back.
“And the witchbeasts outside? I can feel Shaula’s mana from here. She’s tearing through them like crazy.”

“She won’t stop them all.” Subaru said flatly.

“…Hmmm.” Gojo rubbed his chin, then smiled. “Well—you’re the one with spoilers, right? Guess I’ll trust you my dear student.”

Subaru’s grin sharpened, determination flickering in his tired eyes.
“Alright, Gojo-sensei. Let’s do this!”

---

Subaru and Gojo sprinted side by side through the tower’s winding halls, cursed energy burning in their strides. They hit the stairwell, ready to split—until Gojo skidded to a stop, hand raised.

“Wait. Subaru—hold it.”
His brows furrowed, bandages shifting as he tilted his head. “…I hear something.”

“Reid?”
Subaru slowed, wary.

Gojo nodded faintly, then frowned. “…Reid, yeah. But someone else too.”

Subaru’s chest tightened. “…Another? That shouldn’t be possible… unless—” 

They bolted up the stairs, the gaping whiteness of Reid's trial room growing larger and larger as they drew nearer and nearer, to the point where the voices had finally reached Subaru's ears.

“Oi, oi, you—” Reid’s rough drawl cut through the void. “What the hell y’doin’, layin’ flat like that? Didn’t y’come here to entertain me? Stand the hell up, you. Fight me more!”

The two burst into the trial room—stopping dead at the sight.

Reid Astrea, looming like a red-haired giant. And dangling upside down in his grip, limp as a ragdoll, was the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony.

“…The hell—?” Subaru muttered.

“Ahh, small fry ‘n pretty boy.” Reid smirked, swinging Lye’s leg like a rope. “Here for round errr... shit, round however many times the small-fry's lost? Or y’just after this midget?”

“Why is he here?!” Subaru snapped, disbelief tearing out of him.

“Eh, how should I know? Think I’m your narrator, you?” Reid shrugged, as if the Archbishop wasn’t writhing in his grasp. “Brat popped up spoutin’ meals and menus, so I smacked him ‘round. Kids these days—no respect.”

He simply started to ramble, unbothered, about past scraps and hometown neighbors while Lye dangled helplessly in his hand.

Subaru deadpanned.
“…And that matters how?”

“Tsck, what—can’t reminisce, you? Don’t get cocky, small fry. I could beat y’with my eyes closed and my arms tied behind my back, you.”

Then—without warning—Reid’s fingers pressed and pushed into Lye’s torso.

The Archbishop shrieked, high, raw, animal. Subaru grimaced at the sound. He wasn't sure if he should hate himself for it—but part of him relished the sight of that monster writhing in pain. It took absolutely everything Subaru had to fight Gluttony to the point of a stalemate. And here Reid was treating him like nothing more than a chew toy.

“Oi, runt, you.” Reid’s voice cut sharp. He squeezed harder. Lye convulsed. “Didn’t y’say you’d eat me? Well? Try it, you. Swallow me whole, I wanna see what happens, you.”

For a moment, silence. Then—snake-quick, surprising core strength as Lye curved and reached out—Lye’s hand shot up, clamping over Reid’s patched eye who merely stood still and allowed it to happen.

His voice came out like a curse, before licking his lips:
“Reid Astrea.”

Reid froze. His grip slackened. And then—

He was gone.

No sound. No struggle. Erased.

Lye dropped into a crouch, shuddering with ecstasy.
“Ahhh~! Yes, yes yes yes! Flavorful, flavor, flavor yes~ tsu~! Beyond all expectation, tsu~!”

Gojo’s bandaged gaze narrowed.
“…He really—just like that?”

“…He ate him?” Subaru breathed, voice thin.

But the Archbishop’s delight curdled. His limbs spasmed, voice fracturing.
“S-s-strange, so strange, it is strange, incredibly str-ange!? Hurk—”

Another voice bled through the Archbishop's throat. Deeper. Heavier. Familiar.

“That’s the way of the world. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. Ain’t that right, you?”

Subaru’s blood ran cold.

Because standing there a moment later as an absurd transformation took place—crimson hair blazing once more, grin feral—was Reid Astrea. Whole. Alive.

He flexed his fingers, inhaling deep.
“Haaah—yeah, that’s it. Blood pumpin’, body movin’. That runt didn’t even bother with a last meal so I'm hungry as shit, you.”

“…He hijacked the Archbishop's body?” Gojo muttered. Then, of all things, he grinned. “I guess anything is possible then huh.”

Reid sneered, dismissive.
“Don’t spout crap, you. I ain’t anything but me—the strongest, just meant the midget's power wasn't built for someone like me.”

That was when Subaru dropped from above, there was no point in dawdling when a fight was inevitable, a lingering shadow in the light, fists locked together like a hammer before they came screaming down from above with impressive strength. Reid clicked his tongue, chopsticks flashing upward to parry Subaru’s strike with insulting ease. The tips caught the fist dead-on, stopping it cold—before snapping forward again, faster than a blink.

Subaru had clashed with him enough times to know: even holding back, Reid Astrea was a storm given flesh.

“—Authority of Pride!”

Darkness erupted around Subaru’s fists the moment Reid lanced forth, the dark liquid solidifying as a barrier just before the chopsticks struck—

CRACK-!

—shattering the black armor like glass. The impact hurled Subaru skidding backward, arms raised in reflex. Blood trickled from his forearms, dripping onto the floor. He exhaled sharply, steadying himself.

“Hrr—oi, oi.” Reid’s tone was mocking, but his eyes were sharp. “What makes you think you stand a chance here, you? Wastin’ your time, my time, pretty-boy’s time too. Selfish, selfish you.”

Subaru glanced at his arms. The damage was bad, but… less than before. Reid was holding back the same way he always did, yet this time Subaru’s guard hadn’t been obliterated. Painful, but not crippling. That tiny difference lit a spark in him.

He inhaled, then turned his head toward Gojo, who looked ready to intervene.

“Gojo-sensei…” Subaru grinned through bloodied lips. “Leave this bastard to me. Just… make sure Shaula doesn’t lose it. Or if she does... you know what to do.”

Gojo hesitated. His eyes lingered on Reid, who looked more annoyed than amused now. But then he saw it—the unshakable fire burning in Subaru’s expression. That reckless, terrifying confidence.

“Tsk… fine.” Gojo clicked his tongue. “You’d better not disappoint me, Subaru.”

“Heh. I’ll try not to, sensei.”

With a flash, Gojo was gone, sprinting toward Shaula’s battlefield in a completely different part of the tower. Reid didn’t attack during the distraction either. He strolled, slow and deliberate, circling Subaru. Subaru mirrored him, their steps tracing a predator’s spiral.

“Hrn… what’s the plan, you? After gettin’ your ass beat over a dozen times, y’still don’t get it—you ain’t on my level you. So what’s this? Throwin’ your life away?”

“…Throwing my life away?” Subaru’s grin widened, though his body shook.
“I’ve already been there. This time—I’ve got another chance. To be better.”

He lowered his stance, eyes blazing.
“And I've almost threw this one away too, but now, I don't intend on doing so ever again, so come at me, Sword Saint!”

---

A thunderous crash shook the tower. A horse-like witchbeast screamed as Shaula hurled it bodily into the marble wall, the impact splintering stone. The creature’s humanoid upper half flailed wildly—before a hail of white mana lanced into it midair. Shaula’s blasts ripped through flesh and bone, organs bursting apart before the beast’s corpse plummeted hundreds of meters below.

She landed lightly on the fractured balcony, her brown hair wild in the wind. Without pause, she stepped onto the railing, driving her fist through the skull of a shrieking, monkey-shaped witchbeast. Its body went limp instantly, crumpling into the sandy abyss far below.

The tower stood impossibly high, but winged and climbing horrors still clawed their way upward. It didn’t matter.

Shaula tore through them one after another—no hesitation, no breath wasted, no mercy. She was the storm on the balcony, her smile never faltering as blood and mangled flesh sprayed the sky.

The brown-haired woman exhaled sharply as she pivoted past a raking claw, her hand slicing cleanly through a flying witchbeast’s torso. Blood fanned across her body in a crimson arc before she whirled, shattering another creature’s spine with a casual strike.

Each movement was instantaneous—kill, twist, crush. A rhythm of destruction, every beat punctuated by flesh ripping and bone breaking.

STEP—

She launched from the guardrail into open air, body twisting as both arms spread wide. In an instant, raw white mana bloomed between her palms, a storm of blazing spheres that detonated downward like artillery fire. The balcony shook from the force as the sky lit up in a chain of bloody impacts.

Every climbing horror. Every winged beast. Every shriek.
All reduced to red mist and mangled chunks in a matter of seconds.

Shaula touched down lightly, not even winded. Her chest rose once, a single breath, before a childlike smile stretched across her face—pure delight carved into bloodstained skin.

They were on the fourth floor of the watchtower, hundreds of meters above the ground. The balcony gave her no cover, but it didn’t matter. Beasts could fly, they could climb, they could swarm forever—it wouldn’t change anything.

The tower still stood because she stood.
Shaula. The Keeper of the Tower.

But then—

“Urhghh…”

A groan tore from her throat as she hunched, clutching the left side of her face. The flesh twisted beneath her fingers, skin warping, veins bulging. Her free hand caught a batlike witchbeast mid-dive, smashing it into the metal before grinding it under her heel.

“A rule… a rule was broken…”

Her voice cracked, equal parts pain and fury. Crimson bled through her brown eyes, gleaming like burning coals. She tried to smother it, both palms pressing desperately against her face. Even blind, her kicks and sweeps split approaching beasts apart, her superhuman senses compensating where sight faltered. But the cracks were spreading. Her restraint was fraying.

It wasn’t exhaustion. Shaula could have torn apart armies of witchbeasts and still smiled through the carnage. But the change was creeping in all the same. The order that was undefinable was forcing her body against her will, and nothing—not loyalty, not love, not sheer willpower—could stop it.

Then—BLUE.

A cerulean distortion screamed past, carving along the outer wall of the tower, sweeping every last beast into its collapsing singularity before vanishing in a thundering pulse. Stone groaned, silence followed.

Gojo stepped out a heartbeat later, skidding across the balcony. His bandaged eyes locked onto Shaula instantly.

“You…” he said flatly. “So this is what you were afraid of.”

Shaula’s hands peeled from her face, crimson light spilling from her eyes.
“—Ah?”

“G-Get… out… of here…” Her voice broke, her body trembling as it began to warp. “I… won’t be able to stop… myself—!”

Gojo didn’t move. He only tilted his head, as though her plea was little more than background noise.
“Do you remember what I told you? Probably back like—a week ago or something?”

Her breath hitched.
“…?”

He smirked, almost chuckling at her evident confusion.
“That I’d make sure you got to walk out of this place with your precious master, that's still my plan.”

For a flicker, his expression hardened.
I refuse to let her die or sit here any longer after waiting for four hundred years, even if Subaru probably isn't her master, it's still wrong.

He pointed down, finger pressed against the stone, an oath carved in his stance.
“If you’re worried about hurting him… don’t. I won’t let you take a single step past me.”

His hand went to his face. The bandages slipped free, placed into his pocket. Six Eyes flared open, cerulean galaxies spinning, processing every twitch, every fracture, every surge of mana with impossible clarity.

“… This’ll be over soon.” Gojo said, voice low, final.
“… This nightmare.”

Shaula froze—her trembling subsided for just a breath. Then she smiled, small, fragile.
“…If I don’t come back from this… tell master that I love him.”

Gojo gave a single nod in response.

And the world cracked open.

Her body ruptured. Skin split and fell away as though peeled by unseen claws. Hands ballooned, warped, and reshaped into monstrous pincers. Blood splattered, then rewound, sucked back into the forming shell as if time itself was sculpting her anew. Black chitin ripped outward, armor plating sealing her frame, legs bursting forth to impale the floor. Eyes, dozens of them, ignited crimson.

Her screech split the air, high-pitched and primal. The large balcony trembled.

Gojo’s hair whipped in the gale. He stood unfazed, eyes sharp.
“So this is it, huh.”

The colossal scorpion’s gaze swiveled—not toward him, but in a frantic search for prey that wasn’t there. Its mind, stripped and lost, hunting for the only one it longed for.

Gojo’s fist shot forward.

CLANG!

Bone and cursed energy slammed against chitin. The monster skidded back, legs gouging trenches in the metal surface as it steadied itself.

Gojo cracked his knuckles and smirked.
“Where are you looking?”

The crimson eyes fixed on him now.

I see, so she's real durable like this, pretty much zero damage.

Shaula’s legs carved fissures into the stone as she reared back, body hunching low. Her massive stinger angled upward—not to strike, but to fire. The air warped, and then—

FWOOOSH—!

A beam of searing white mana lanced toward Gojo, cutting the air apart like a god’s judgment. The balcony screamed, marble cracking beneath the force. The blast consumed him whole.

For a moment, only silence remained. Smoke and dust rolled thick over the edge of the tower.

Then a voice cut through, almost lazy.
“—Unblockable, huh?”

The cloud tore apart on the wind. Gojo stood there, hands in his pockets, cerulean eyes shining through the haze.
“…If you aren’t me, of course.”

The giant scorpion didn’t react and instead charged forward, her pincers opening as both were launched from either side with the clear intention of turning Gojo into a red paste at the center.

CLANG!

Gojo’s palms caught them mid-swing. Not dodging, not blocking—just ceasing of any motion. The meal beneath his feet groaned, stone from the walls behind splintered, but Gojo didn’t budge an inch.

“Sorry, Shaula.” His voice was calm, but edged with effort. “But this isn’t a time I can afford to play around.”

His shoulders tensed, a grunt escaping as he forced the massive pincers apart and raised a hand, palm glowing with energy.

RED—!

The blast detonated point-blank, ripping Shaula from the balcony. Stone shredded, iron railing twisted like paper as her armored body smashed through and dangled over the balcony's edge, barely clinging on.

Gojo was already moving. His figure blurred, vaulting past the white beam she instinctively fired in midair, twisting clean around it. In the same fluid motion, his boot connected with the flat of her shell—

WHAM—!

No cracks. No blood. But damage wasn’t what he was after.

Shaula’s body finally fell, weightless for a breath, then plummeted. Her enormous shadow passed across the tower walls. Gojo leapt after her, clothes and hair snapping in the screaming wind.

His wrist flicked—BLUE bloomed into existence. The air itself twisted, dragging Shaula upward mid-fall before reality snapped taut, slamming her into the tower’s side with bone-rattling force. The Watchtower shuddered as her claws pierced deep, anchoring her in place like a spider on its web.

Gojo landed opposite her, a dozen meters away, balanced lightly on the sheer wall in total gravity defiance, one hand still resting casually in his pocket. His six eyes glowed like stars in the night.

His words rang out, calm but resolute, cutting through the endless screeches.
“This’ll all be worth it in the end…”

He lifted his gaze, meeting hers through the layers of fractured loyalty.
“…Because you’re leaving this place too. Whether you believe it or not.”

His gaze momentarily shifted left, eyes veering at the highest part of the tower he could see while stood horizontally.

The fifth rule 'It is not forbidden to destroy the Trials'... he's got some sort of a plan for what I'm supposed to do, so I'll just be a good teacher and play along with it.

Notes:

Little bit of a delay because I had a real annoying infection to deal with irl, but it's gotten a lot better now so I can definitely keep going and hopefully finish this arc quite soon.

Chapter 43: The Fool and the Saint.

Subaru knew he could finally call himself strong to some degree.

Not in some hollow, fleeting sense, not in the shallow pride of survival—but in the weighty, earned knowledge of a man who had clawed his way from nothing and faced the impossible. Every scar, every bruise, every gaping wound marked a testament to his journey, a ledger of battles few could imagine and even fewer could survive. No ordinary soul should have stood where he stood now. No ordinary boy should have carried the wounds inflicted by—

—Elsa Granhiert, the Bowel Hunter.
—A Sin Archbishop, felled by Subaru’s own hand.
—The Pleiades Watchtower itself, where the Witch slumbers, a place of madness and despair, challenged and endured through sheer will alone.

To anyone else, his life’s record would read like a tale of fantasy. To Subaru, it was just the path he had walked—a road paved in blood, pain, and impossible victories, each step heavier than the last yet necessary.

Not long ago, his drive had been nothing, completely false, a fragile resolve born only from the fear of being useless. He had clawed for existence, desperate to prove to the world—and to himself—that he was not a mistake. That he had his place in the world, just like everybody else.

Now, though… now it was different.

For Emilia. For Gojo. For Rem. For Ram. For all of them, he would keep walking forward.

Not to bask in their admiration. Not to show his worth. Not to satisfy the whispers of pride that lingered at the edge of his heart. But to protect them. To shield them from the pain he had once known. To ensure they could live without seeing death’s cold hand take those they loved in front of their eyes. To sever the endless cycle of despair. To stop leaning on Return by Death as a crutch, and instead face fate head-on with strength, not sacrifice.

Some might call it selfish. Some might call it greedy. Perhaps, in another life, it could be seen as such.

But Subaru did not care for what others would call it. This was not ambition, nor pride, nor vengeance.

This was Natsuki Subaru. And this—this was his strength.

---

Countless ripples of wind fanned out across the vast white void, every shockwave born from strikes deflected and hurled aside. Reid stood on the offensive, chopsticks flicking with impossible precision to parry blow after blow Subaru threw his way.

And yet—even now—Subaru was improving.

For a man like Reid, arrogance was everything. Why end it quickly with a killing blow, when dragging it out meant more amusement? For Subaru, it was perfect. Every heartbeat stretched into another chance to grow.

A kick snapped upward from the ground, Subaru’s heel aiming for Reid’s chin—only to be stopped cold by the tip of a single chopstick.

“—Tch.”
Reid’s tongue clicked in annoyance. He had aimed to cleave through Subaru’s foot cleanly, but instead found his strike halted. A stray blast of purple energy crackled past his ear, forcing him to twist his neck aside. The chopstick splintered under the strain, wood snapping with a crack that lanced through the material in an instant.

The Sword Saint moved on seamlessly, off-hand whipping up to swat away Subaru’s next punch, his remaining chopstick lunging like a spear. Subaru ducked low, leapt back, lungs burning.

Reid’s eyes narrowed. This didn’t make sense. No one improved this fast—not in a week especially.

“So y’blocked my strike with that shadowy crap, ‘n threw that stinky purple junk at me, eh? Not too shabby, I’ll say, you.”

“…Calling it stinky makes it sound way worse than it is.” Subaru muttered, fists rising again.

“’N do I give a shit? Not at all. If y’care that much, come over here ‘n punch me.” Reid tapped his cheek mockingly, grin wide enough to split his face. “Still—where’s pretty boy gone off to, eh? That one’s a damn sight more fun to dance with than you.”

Subaru grit his teeth. This fight shouldn’t even exist. Reid wasn’t supposed to be here—he was supposed to be nothing more than a test, an examination, a husk with no will of its own. But the Sword Swinger had spat on the laws of the Tower, seized Gluttony’s body, and dragged himself back into the world of the living just to fight.

Subaru’s gaze dropped to his palm, purple miasma coiling and crackling across his skin like a living flame.

The attack he’d learnt how to do when he was in a battle against Lye Batenkaitos, perhaps it was his trump card when utilized at maximum strength. It was strong enough to scar even the likes of Reid and Gojo at it's full output. But winding it up would take too long to be efficient. He didn’t have that luxury.

“…Then how about—” Subaru’s lips curved into a sharp grin, his aura flaring.
“—You come to me instead.”

Reid’s eyes twitched. That spark of confidence—unearned, insane—rubbed against his pride like a blade on bone.

“Tsck. Suit y’self, prick.”

The Sword Saint blurred. One step, and his body vanished into streaking crimson motion.

SWOOSH—

Subaru raised his arm, cursed energy carving the air in jagged violet trails. He slashed, and a crescent of raw force erupted, screaming toward Reid. The redhead dropped low, sliding under it with effortless grace, strands of crimson hair sheared away as though mocking Subaru’s effort.

Subaru didn’t falter. His roar cracked through the void as his body descended from above, fist plunging down. Reid’s stance was open, his flow slowed for the briefest moment—

—Now. Now was the time to strike.

Subaru’s fist crashed down—
—only to strike empty space.

He twisted, snapping it across toward Reid, but the Sword Saint leaned back with a single, casual step, evading with insulting ease.

Tsck!

The missed reach burned Subaru’s nerves raw. His shorter wingspan cost him the blow. Although Reid was now moving from one spot, unlike before. Every dodge, every parry, every counter was deliberate restraint. Subaru could only hope his theory was right—Otherwise, all of this would end in failure, another reset waiting to swallow him whole.

He snarled and thrust out a hand. Darkness bled from his palm, coagulating into a sword that ripped an arc toward Reid’s side. The redhead lunged high, vaulting above with predatory grace.

Subaru’s body screamed for him to stop from the strain of using Pride, but he twisted his arm anyway, dragging the blade in a wide semi-circle through the air. The dark edge expanded meters outward, a black crescent ripping through the void toward the Astrea.

Reid only grinned. His arm cocked back, fingers surging with a surge of strength—

SPLIT-!

The tips of his fingers slammed into the arc and split it clean down the middle like a blade.

“Grhh—!”
Subaru gagged, blood spraying from his lips. His vision stuttered, vessels bursting red in his eyes. But still, he flung up his other hand, cursed energy pooling at his fingertips, fusing with the witch's miasma—

A purple beam, almost wide enough to engulf Reid’s body, roared forward. The Astrea met it with open arms and a feral grin.

And space itself cracked.

Sound, light—concepts themselves shredded, the beam ripped apart mid-flight, its core unraveling into nothingness. Reality realigned a breath later, the void trembling back into place.

Subaru’s knees nearly buckled, but his will refused. His fist clenched tight—

CLENCH—!

Residual cursed energy that remained in the air snapped to his command in an instant, reigniting into a jagged violet arc that ripped in from Reid’s flank.

“—!”
For the first time, Reid’s eyes widened. He turned, too late—

BOOOOOM-!

The void detonated in a thunderclap, shockwaves rippling down to Subaru’s perch. He squinted through the windstorm, chest heaving, blood dripping from his teeth.

Something fluttered down before him. A torn strip of red kimono.

His heart hammered so violently he forgot to breathe.

Reid emerged through the haze, silent, his back turned. He landed in total stillness, hand pressed to his side. Slowly, he peeled his palm away and inspected it—

No blood.

“Tsck!”
Subaru spat, fury and despair twisting together. He’d missed—by an inch, nothing more.

Reid finally spoke, voice calm.
“If this was still the shitty trial, not a match to the death, you’d’ve passed it long ago, you. But you’d’ve also passed what I’d set for white-hair just then 'n there.”

Subaru blinked, stunned by the admission—then froze as steel suddenly hissed free. The sound was unmistakable. The trial’s blade. The untouched sword that had waited since the very beginning, now rested in Reid Astrea’s hand.

“…Gain his forgiveness, by hand of the Fool who has reached the Heavenly Sword…” Subaru muttered, voice tight.

“Aye. My words, you. Nearly forgot ‘em.”

Reid’s off-hand reached up, tugging away the eyepatch that veiled his left eye. Both cerulean irises burned with a predatory glint as he stomped once, the void trembling beneath him.

He raised the sword. Perfect form, flawless posture. Even Reinhard would’ve looked crude in comparison.

“Don’t be complainin’ from here, you. Blink, and you’ll die.”

Subaru chuckled, blood dripping down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve.
“Yeah. Probably.”

Reid tilted his head.
“Remind me your name again, you? ‘Black-hair’ don’t sit right anymore. Got a bad memory.”

The question hit like a spear. Before, Reid had asked, not in mockery, but in nothing more than slight interest. This time, it felt genuinely real. A tradition that has existed for who knows how long in this world where stating ones name in battle symbolized the belief that both fighters were equal.

Subaru exhaled, lips curving.
“…The Fool who refuses to die.”
“Natsuki Subaru.”

Reid grinned, teeth bared. He rolled the blade onto his shoulder, stance perfect, terrifyingly casual.

“Then in that case—”
“Stick Swinger.”
“Reid Astrea.”

Fight, commence.

---

CRACK—!

The tower wall caved inward, stone shards slicing through the air like bullets. Ashen dust swirled—then split apart in an instant as a colossal silhouette tore through.

A lance of white light ripped across the breach—Gojo stepped into it head-on, the beam halting a breath from his skin. A pincer followed, swinging with crushing weight. He didn’t even move—Infinity shuddered, the strike stopped cold.

“You’re supposed to be automated…” Gojo said flatly, fingers curling into a fist. “But you’re fighting with strategy. Interesting…”

He drew in a deep breath, eyes narrowing.
“…Not that it matters.”

BOOM—!

His fist detonated against the scorpion’s shell. Brown plating spider-webbed with cracks, claws gouging trenches in the floor as Shaula’s body skidded back, slammed the far wall—

THUD—!

Gojo was already there. A kick. A crack in the wall. Shaula blasted into the hallway. Another strike. Another. Each blow a miniature quake, the Watchtower groaning with the rhythm of his assault.

He hated every second of it. But if he didn’t stop her here, she’d find Subaru—and that was a disaster they couldn’t afford.

“So sorry… Just—”
“—Stay down!”

CRASH—!

His heel slammed down on the giant scorpion's dome, the impact rippling through her body and into the stone beneath, the floor fracturing like glass. Shaula’s tail pincer coiled, charging another blast—

“Blue.”

Gojo’s fingers pinched together. Cerulean flared. The tail yanked sideways, smashed against the wall, pinned like an insect on a board. He hammered another punch. Then another. Then again. Each strike splintered the shell further until fractures webbed across her body like broken porcelain.

At last, he pulled back, chest heaving slightly.
“…Enough.”

The scorpion collapsed, massive frame sagging to the floor as strength gave way from each leg underneath.

Gojo exhaled, sweat dampening his fringe. His gaze tilted upward, toward the void above.

Subaru. Against Reid. That's not a winnable fight for him... for anyone in this tower, for that matter, myself included.

And yet—he couldn’t shake his friends confidence. Subaru’s conviction was heavier than it should've been, and for some reason, Gojo couldn't help but believe he'd be able to win, despite the sheer impossibility of it.

“—?”

His Six Eyes snapped down.

Cracks sealed. Plates mended. Broken bones knit beneath the shell. Not as fast as himself or someone like Elsa, no—but quick enough. Too quick.

Gojo’s brow furrowed.
“…Shaula. You’re really making this hard for me, you know…”

“But fine.”
He raised his hand during the scorpion's regeneration, a crimson orb manifesting atop the fingertip, aimed directly toward the beast infront of him.

“…I can stall for as long as Subaru needs.”

---

BOOOM—!

"I can return by—hrkk!?"
That made the limit. He couldn’t push further. He couldn’t get stronger.

Subaru and Reid faced one another across the void, the silence between them crushed beneath the weight of sparks and the echo of blows.

Subaru’s chest heaved, body marred with shallow cuts, burns, and bruises. His fists trembled but didn’t lower. Across from him, Reid calmly dragged the flat of his blade across the red stains marking its edge, flicking Subaru’s blood into the air before breaking into a lopsided grin.

Then the First Sword Saint stepped forward.

The ground didn’t tremble beneath him, yet each stride radiated force. He moved like a beast let off its leash, closing distance with a speed Subaru couldn’t have tracked only weeks ago. But now—he could. His hand snapped up, shadows coalescing into an obsidian blade mid-swing. Steel met shadow with a CLAANG! Sparks burst outward, violet light rippling over the black edge. Subaru held his ground, feet sliding a half step but no longer buckling under the redhead’s ferocity.

Reid’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“Fix yer footwork you.”

The words struck Subaru harder than the blow. His breath caught as Reid flowed into a second strike, then a third, each faster and sharper. Subaru’s arms rattled from the sting of impact, but he absorbed them, twisting, matching, parrying.

His foot slid forward—too far. Reid punished it immediately, silver cleaving downward. Subaru twisted aside, narrowly evading a cut that split the air he’d occupied a heartbeat prior. His cheek burned, warmth dripping from a shallow gash.

“Fix yer stance.” Reid growled, blade already resetting into another arc. “It’s too open.”

The words lingered, echoing.
He’s teaching me?

Every instinct screamed at Subaru that this was insanity. He had no right to duel Reid Astrea, the man who had lived and breathed swordsmanship beyond the reach of Reinhard himself. And yet—his body moved, his soul compelled him. He wanted this. Needed this. To cross blades with the unreachable and win.

CLAANG-!

The void reverberated with their rhythm. Sparks sprayed like falling stars, lighting the air around them before even they fell still from the sheer speed they moved at. Step, clash, step, clash—the pace shifted faster and faster, Subaru’s footwork stumbling then correcting, Reid’s movements sharp and merciless, guiding him like a sculptor carving raw stone.

It was a conversation, but not in words. The dialogue was etched in steel and shadow. Reid spoke through every angle, every parry, every counter. Subaru answered through bruised ribs, bleeding cuts, clenched fists.

A downward swing bore down—Subaru stopped it, blade shuddering against the weight. His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating and shrinking. He tilted, thrusting forward. Reid dipped low, breath brushing the steel’s edge as he swept Subaru’s footing with the sole of his foot before arcing it up into his stomach.

CRACK!
Ribs snapped. Subaru’s body recoiled. Not a sound escaped his throat. No scream. No cry. His back bent, then straightened. He stepped in again.

He’s still holding back.

The thought grounded him as much as it terrified him.

A glint—silver slicing the void. Subaru tilted, too slow. The blade kissed his cheek, carving flesh. Blood streaked. He didn’t falter. His counter came instantly, obsidian blade swiping. Hair fluttered into the air, strands of Reid’s red split loose.

Another attack nearly claimed his head from it's neck, Subaru ducked beneath it and threw his shoulder forward. WHAM-! Reid’s frame skidded back, feet carving a line across the pale void.

Subaru pressed, shadows flaring to life across his blade. He roared, unleashing arcs of violet energy like brushstrokes across a canvas. Each one surged outward, snapping through the void with painterly ferocity. Reid met them with flawless efficiency. Not a swing wasted. Every cut a masterstroke, cleaving purple apart like fragile glass. The First Sword Saint advanced, unyielding, smiling through the storm.

The rhythm intensified. Slash—slash—slash—swipe! Sparks painted their silhouettes in fleeting gold. The void became their battlefield, their gallery.

And Subaru…

Yes. This…!

The world fell away. His doubts, his fear, his shame—gone. All that remained was Reid before him, the clash of their wills in every strike. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of blades. His focus became absolute, his vision sharpened to a singular line.

This wasn’t survival. This wasn’t desperation.

This is art...

Subaru’s blade carved a vicious upward arc—only for Reid’s steel to intercept with flawless timing, parrying it down in a flash of sparks. In the same motion, Reid stamped the sole of his foot against Subaru’s weapon, pinning it, and lunged with his own strike—sharp, ruthless, final.

But darkness welled across Subaru’s forearm like liquid iron, solidifying into a shield. The steel glanced off the conjured barrier, leaving the space where Subaru’s sword should have been empty, beneath Reid's foot.

SWISH—!

Subaru had already moved before Reid could fully react, yet even that fraction of anticipation wasn’t enough.

A thin, crimson line split Reid’s cheek, blood tracing a sharp trail down the side of his face in the wake of Subaru’s sidestep and counter. The strike was clean, precise—his first undeniable hit. But neither warrior flinched. Neither uttered a word, nor did a smirk flicker across their faces. They simply reset, muscles taut, eyes narrowing, and collided again with silent intent.

The shadow-forged blade in Subaru’s hand cut through the void with a symphony of motion. Each strike against Reid landed with a superficial graze, shallow scratches that should have meant nothing, yet each one brought something new: a refinement of rhythm, a sharpening of counters, a subtle but undeniable growth. With every swing, every parry, Subaru’s body learned, adapted.

Blood dripped freely from his wounds, pain lanced through his muscles and joints, his arms and legs trembling from exertion—but none of it mattered. Pain became the canvas, his body the brush, and his will painted itself across the void.

Reid’s foot slammed into the ground with measured force, sending a shockwave rippling toward Subaru. He twisted midair, instinct guiding him, the onyx blade meeting steel in a harsh clang that rattled his forearms. Sparks flew from the collision, white-hot from friction, before he ducked low to avoid the next crushing strike.

A deep gash blossomed along his side, crimson painting the fabric of his torn clothes, yet he didn’t pause. He pivoted fluidly, raising his leg in a sweeping, powerful arc aimed at the side of Reid’s face. The kick met flat steel with a resonating clang, the impact reverberating along Subaru’s leg and up his spine. So much so that the force carried him forward uncontrollably, sliding across the ground for several meters before he rolled to recover, barely rising before Reid struck again.

Breath came in ragged, ragged bursts, but his eyes burned with clarity and focus. Every strike that failed to land, every cut he received, every blow he dodged or absorbed—it was all data. Subaru’s mind, his cursed energy, and his raw instinct synchronized like the gears of a perfectly crafted machine.

Each movement left no opening unused, each moment refined his strategy, each collision taught him the rhythm of a warrior who had seen centuries of battle.

For Reid, these were mere scratches; for Subaru, they were lessons written in blood. Every scar, every sting of pain, each setback pushed him closer to a single goal: to match, to surpass, and to stand unbroken before the Sword Saint.

And still, he moved—again, and again, and again—each motion more confident than the last, until the void itself seemed to bend subtly around the storm of their battle. Each strike, each block, each step was no longer just a fight. It was art. And Subaru was finally beginning to understand its form.

Reid’s patience ended with a stomp.

The void cracked. The force of his step alone sent Subaru hurtling backwards, dozens of meters, body twisting as he fought to ground himself. His feet scraped, his arms raised, instinct alone keeping him moving fast enough to meet what came next.

Reid’s blade sang.

Subaru’s heart seized. A cold flash cut through his ecstasy, his sharpened focus, through the endless hunger that drove him forward. This was not an attack he could block. This was death incarnate.

One step—Reid vanished.

The red blur tore forward faster than Subaru’s eyes could track, the sword’s arc cleaving not air, but existence itself. The stroke ripped open the void, severing space, time, light, darkness. A white gash in reality itself that threated to swallow Subaru whole.

It was the pinnacle of the Astrea style. In Reid’s hands, it was not a technique. It was inevitability.

---

Subaru only shrugged back, eyes trailing toward the ground as he lets out a sigh.
“Is it over then?”

“Ahh.. nah… Reid probably would've just killed you if we had only one attempt for this trial. That's why we're out here, and I'm not fighting for my life still inside of the trial room.” Gojo replied with a flick of his wrist.

Subaru's gaze flicked back toward Gojo.
“…So now what? He knows everything I can—”

Gojo pressed a finger to Subaru’s lips.
“Tsk. You don’t have to beat him. You just need to play the game differently. The Subaru I know wouldn't try to brute force through someone ten levels above him—he'd play smart instead.”

He grinned.
“After all… it’s just one step to victory.”

Flick!

The hit to his forehead made Subaru flinch—not yelp. His hand rose to his chin instead, gears already turning.

'Pride is my biggest card besides Return by Death… but I’ve only been using it for shadows and darkness. There’s another usage of it I’ve been ignoring 'cause I just can't understand it.'

He clicked his tongue.

'When Pride used it, eye contact made people completely unable to touch him. Not like a barrier, but like his gaze altered the trajectory of any attack that came it's way. Even Reinhard had to attack from the flank instead. But…'

Images of Reid slicing through Gojo’s supposedly unstoppable attacks flashed through his mind.

“No… he’d just cut through it. Like everything else.”

---

“—Ah.”

The sound slipped from Subaru’s lips. Not fear. Not despair. Realization.

In that heartbeat, everything clicked.

The Authority of Pride. His cursed energy. The flaws he’d tripped over, the wasteful swings, the unstable arcs—every imperfection revealed itself. Every correction burned into his mind. His body, his will, his cursed power aligned.

The canvas was complete.
The art-piece finished.

SWOOSH—

Reid’s killing slash suddenly veered off-course, deflected by a force not his own. His eyes widened, genuine shock flashing through the arrogance. The severing light that was meant for Subaru howled upward, rending open the void’s ceiling instead.

He tried to adjust. To go faster. To finally, finally stop holding back.

But nothing happened. His body betrayed him. The vessel he wore wasn’t enough. He had been fighting on borrowed time—and it had just run out.

Checkmate.

“Black Flash—”

Subaru’s onyx blade ignited with violent purpose, cursed energy compressed into a single heartbeat of impossibility. He thrust forward—

BOOOOM—!

A detonation of black and red sparks exploded outward, faster than thought, ripping the air apart. The blade didn’t cut Reid—it obliterated. Flesh, muscle, bone, entrails—gone in an instant, erased in a thrust that tore a gaping void through his stomach, a wound the size of a basketball burning with cursed aftershocks.

All there was, was silence. The void stretched endlessly between them, nothing moved—not Subaru, not Reid. Seconds dragged on, heavy and tense, until the faint clang of metal hitting the white ground broke the stillness: Reid’s blade, sliding from his grasp as he hacked up another spurt of blood.

Subaru let the dark blade retract, letting it dissipate like smoke from a spent candle. His chest heaved, every muscle screaming in pain, yet his eyes widened, taking in the sight of what he’d just accomplished.

“Ur-hk… shit…”
Subaru groaned, staggering slightly.

“Fuck… ‘r you… cryin’ about eh?”
Reid scoffed, his tone casual despite the gaping wound in his torso.

“—Ah…”
Subaru could only breathe in disbelief, staring at the man who had pushed him to his absolute limits.

“Well, fuckin’ played you… shit, ain’t this a borin’ end…”
Reid rasped, vomiting more blood, but refusing to collapse. He locked his pale, strained gaze onto Subaru with a frown that carried grudging respect.

“Y’knew this would happen, didn’t ya? Shoulda been fuckin’ obvious from the start… real annoyed you of all people outsmarted me.”

Subaru laughed, staggering back under the exhaustion and blood loss, but forcing himself upright. He couldn’t afford to fall here—not with Reid barely holding himself together.

“—I only had a theory, and I’m glad it was right… or I’d have been screwed…” 
“—Lye’s body was too weak for someone like you.”

Reid didn't respond, merely allowed silence to settle.

Subaru’s stomach tightened, and he suddenly felt the urge to ask what he'd been curious about for a while.
“… Did you actually want to live a second life after all this, if you succeeded to leave this place?”

Reid tilted his head, eyes wandering across the pale void.
“…Hrr—Not like I got shit to do outside fighting in an age like this, you. Shit I wanna do, I do it my way—fightin', dyin'… You, you live like that, ‘n you might become a decent swordsman.”

Subaru shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not sure if I want to… I only held a sword a few times before all this, and I was kinda wingin’ it. You made me improve a lot, and even then… I still got lucky in the end.”

“Tsck—‘course y’did, ‘cause I’m me. There ain’t no swordsman like me, never will be either.”
Reid flashed a bloody grin, his voice hoarse but full of pride.

“—You’re a little monster y’self, you know.” He added, eyes glinting.

“—You and that white-haired prick… gonna be some real monsters. Have to be, otherwise it’d be a fuckin’ mockery for my legacy, you. I’ll come a third time back to kick your ass if you spit on my name in the future.”

“A-Aha…”
Subaru laughed nervously, unsure whether Reid was joking—or deadly serious.

“Haaah… Natsuki Subaru, aye.”
“—Not too shabby…”

Reid’s gaze softened as the whites of his eyes faded, his neck slumping. The fight was over. The fight had been brutal, merciless, and almost impossible to predict, yet somehow, Subaru had endured, adapted, and survived.

Great Library Pleiades, The Second Trial—COMPLETED.

Notes:

Reid Astrea, DOWN. Was the fight better than past ones? I tried to make it more 'sword-focused' if that wasn't obvious enough.

Now we're at the climax of the arc alright!

Chapter 44: The Penultimate.

Gojo and the scorpion wasn’t a clash—it was a one-sided storm. A beatdown, plain and simple. Shaula’s monstrous pincers snapped, her stinger fired lances of light that could disintegrate armies, yet none of it landed. Not truly. Against Infinity, her fury washed off like rain on glass.

Normally, Gojo would’ve toyed with her. He would’ve smiled, made some snide comment, and dragged the fight out just to amuse himself. But this time was different. He wasn’t fighting for fun.

He was fighting to save her.

To drag Shaula out of the cage she’d been locked in for four hundred lonely years. To free her from the curse Flugel had left behind. And maybe—just maybe—if he ever saw that smug bastard in the future, he’d plant a well-deserved red-infused punch across his face.

“—!”

Gojo’s eyes widened.

The titanic scorpion’s carapace began to glow red, her entire form radiating blinding brilliance. The swelling light at the tip of her tail stinger compressed—then fired. The blast wasn’t just larger than anything she had unleashed before, it was overwhelmingly so.

For a fleeting instant, Gojo thought one thing:

Getting hit by that… would not be pretty.

The all-encompassing light surged toward him, slowed infinitely at the barrier of his technique. Yet even as the beam parted and wrapped around his body, its destructive wake erased the walls behind him, tearing a gaping corridor into the horizon. The sound itself seemed to vanish, space trembling as the beam scoured the distant sands until finally flickering out.

The impact was so intense that ripples traveled across the endless desert below, scattering the dunes into waves and flattening hordes of witchbeasts like mere insects beneath a storm.

Smoke engulfed the chamber.

Then, flicker— Gojo stepped out of the haze, sliding across the stone floor. He weaved beneath the shadow of an incoming pincer, his movements precise, unhurried. Pivoting sharply, he drove a hook glowing crimson—RED—into Shaula’s side.

Impact.

The chamber quaked as her armored frame was hurled across the room, crashing through a jagged breach in the wall and vanishing into the desert far below.

Gojo followed her descent with his Six Eyes, tracking her until the tremor of her impact echoed back up. Shaula rose immediately, undaunted, and fell upon the nearest witchbeast. Her colossal pincers tore a fiery Centaur apart, shredding it like a child pulling the wings off a fly. Screeches echoed across the wasteland as more monsters converged.

Gojo’s expression softened, just slightly.

“…I don’t hear fighting from the tower anymore.”
His gaze drifted upward, toward the unreachable peak of the Pleiades Watchtower. Clouds curled thick around its summit, cloaking the heavens themselves

“Did Subaru… actually pull it off? Did he beat Reid?”

The thought was absurd—and yet, for some reason, he believed it.

When he looked back down, Shaula was still rampaging. Still tearing, still mauling. But Gojo saw it, faint and hidden beneath the frenzy. A flicker. A trembling ember of the girl who had waited for her master to return.

“Shaula…” he whispered. “… So she is still in there. Barely—but I can see it.”

Closing his eyes, he raised his hand. Cursed energy crackled over his fingertips, swirling into an ominous crimson glow.

“Now it’s time for me to do my job.”

Vermillion light spilled across the sands, searing everything within sight. The witchbeasts shrieked as gravity itself bent, the entire surrounding area collapsing in upon itself—imploding into a cavernous abyss. The Centaurs, the hordes, even Shaula herself were swallowed by the churning darkness, falling endlessly into the deep.

Gojo exhaled, dust scattering from his breath.

Then he turned back to the tower, towering higher than the clouds, its pinnacle hidden from mortal sight. His eyes narrowed with resolve.

“Alright, Shaula. Just wait a little longer. Keep chewing on those pests if you need to… I’ll be right back.”

Without hesitation, he stepped forward. His figure blurred, sprinting across the sands until he reached the gate of the Watchtower once more. He paused only briefly, eyes flicking toward the colossal exterior wall.

Not gonna climb the outside. There’s no way Flugel didn’t leave some failsafe for that.

So he entered through the front, boots echoing against the ancient stone. His gaze lifted upward, and he felt a twinge of despair at the spiral staircase awaiting him.

“…Damn. I’m gonna hate this part.”

Still, his lips curled into a grin, his expression full of unshakable confidence as he set foot onto the first stair.

No hesitation. No doubt.
Only forward.

Gojo Satoru began his rapid ascent straight to the top of the tower.

---

The climb was long and arduous, even for him. By the halfway mark, Gojo found his own footsteps slowing, his breathing sharper, sweat clinging to his temples. For the first time in years, he realized he actually had to try just to keep pace. Shaula had been climbing these stairs for centuries—hell, he didn’t envy her in the slightest even if she had never gone up to the very top before.

If Subaru had been the one to climb instead? Gojo smirked faintly through the burn in his lungs. The dude wouldn’t even have been halfway before being gassed out and complaining.

Still, step by step, he forced himself higher. Until finally, he stood at the summit.

And what he saw stopped him dead.

“…No way.”

His eyes widened, a rare flicker of disbelief cutting through his usual confidence. The sight before him wasn’t just unexpected—it was absurd. Something nobody could’ve predicted. Not Subaru, no amount of planning could predict just who was laying before him.

A colossal being towered before him, its form clad in scales that shimmered like oceans of sapphire. Golden eyes burned through the chamber, pinning Gojo like an insect beneath glass. That gaze alone carried weight, a suffocating sense of majesty. His shoulders tightened. His breath caught. Infinity meant nothing here.

A figure every soul in this world knew by name.

“…Volcanica.”

The Divine Dragon. The so-called guardian deity of Lugunica. The linchpin of the Royal Selection itself.

The creature’s presence was overwhelming. Its scales gleamed like jewels forged in heaven’s fire, sharper than any blade Gojo had ever laid eyes on. Four limbs ended in claws black as obsidian, gouging the stone beneath with casual menace. Two ivory horns arched from its head, divine and terrible. Its sheer size, while smaller than the watchtower, seemed to dwarf it from presence alone; wings folded, tail coiled, still its immensity warped the chamber.

And those golden eyes—eyes that had seen centuries pass, kingdoms rise and fall—were fixed entirely on him.

Gojo swallowed, clenching his fist to steady his breath. Even his technique want simply ignored by whatever it was. Infinity wasn’t a shield. It wasn’t even a joke here.

“…What do you… think…” His words caught, his throat tightening beneath the weight.
“…you’re doing…?”

A single heartbeat later, the suffocating aura dissipated, like mist fading from the air. He inhaled sharply, breath rushing back into his lungs. His body screamed in relief.

But the dragon still hadn’t spoken.

Gojo straightened, rolling his shoulders as if to brush off the pressure. His voice rang out, defiant, cocky as ever.

“Hey, shitty dragon! Why the hell did you make me a contender for the throne, huh?!” He jabbed a thumb at his chest out of plain annoyance. “I mean—seriously? I thought you were just some perverted dragon, but turns out the damn GOD of this world swings BOTH WAYS, huh?!”

“……”

The Divine Dragon didn’t so much as blink. Its gaze remained fixed. Silent.

“…Hey—!”

“Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner.”

The voice boomed, ancient and hollow, reverberating through stone and bone alike. It was grand, godlike—but wrong. It carried no cadence of will. No spark of personality. It was mechanical. Programmed.

“I, am Volcanica. In accordance with the ancient covenant, I ask the will of thee who hath reached the summit.”

Gojo’s expression darkened, Six Eyes narrowing as his usual grin faltered.

“…Tch. Am I getting ragebaited by a dragon?”

No response.

“…I am, huh?”

Again, silence. The same unblinking gaze.

Gojo tilted his head, his eyes drifting slowly down the length of the dragon’s gargantuan frame. His Six Eyes probed, studied, dissected every detail. Until realization flickered across his face.

“…Ah.”

No body temperature. No pulse of heat. Nothing that suggested true life. Not dead, no… but unmoving. Stagnant. A being frozen in time, its essence locked away until it became little more than a living statue.

The voice resounded once more, identical in every syllable.

“Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner. I, am Volcanica. In accordance with the ancient covenant, I ask the will of thee who hath reached the summit.”

Gojo groaned and smacked the side of his head with one hand.

“Ahhh, so that’s it… You’re on repeat.” His grin returned, sharp and irreverent. “Really? The great dragon with memory loss? A literal god reduced to a broken record? I guess old age really does get to everyone huh.”

He let his hand fall, sighing through his teeth.

“… Seems Crusch might’ve been onto something after all with what she was preaching about way back when I made my appearance.”

--Third Trial "UNKNOWN" Begin.

---

“...But what is it? What do I have to do? Beat Volcanica, like we had to beat Reid?”
Gojo muttered aloud, his tone caught somewhere between curiosity and irritation. He really hoped that wasn’t the case—if the grand trial of the Divine Dragon boiled down to just another slugfest, he’d rate this whole setup one star. Unoriginal. Lazy design. Zero replay value.

But that obviously wasn’t the case.

His six eyes flicked away from the looming dragon and began sweeping the environment with meticulous detail. The space wasn’t endless like the void of the second layer, nor confined like Reid’s dueling arena. This was something different—a rooftop-like platform, open to the skies, capped in clouds. The arena’s diameter spanned perhaps a hundred meters, with six smaller pillars evenly spaced along its perimeter. At the heart of it all was a mammoth central pillar—its presence undeniable, like an altar. And it was here that Volcanica crouched, its vast frame leaning against the structure, its golden eyes tracking Gojo with all the weight of a god’s judgment.

The area felt deceptively large, but much of that space was swallowed whole by the dragon’s sheer immensity. Its body filled the rooftop like a mountain come to life, breathing down on him in silence.

Gojo edged closer to the lip of the rooftop, peering down past the railing of stone. Unsurprisingly, all he found below was a rolling blanket of cloud—no horizon, no ground, nothing. A sea of white, cutting him off from the world beneath.

“As I thought... we’re above the clouds.” he muttered, his voice dry. “So scaling this thing from the outside would’ve been pointless anyway. Guess that thought earlier was trash.”

Reinhard could probably pull it off though. Gojo grimaced. Of course he could.

He shook it off and tilted his head back toward the dragon’s perch. The central pillar was the obvious focus, the core of the stage. It practically screamed importance. His instincts told him the answer wasn’t in clashing with Volcanica head-on—it was in figuring out why the dragon guarded that pillar in the first place. The beast’s repeated lines of dialogue weren’t exactly Shakespearean hints, but they were still something.

“Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner.”

Gojo clicked his tongue and tapped his foot impatiently. The words grated on him, more like a broken record than divine guidance. Still, they were the only clue he had.

He advanced toward the pillar.

“--!”

His eyes widened as infinity rippled, catching something he hadn’t seen. The dragon’s tail—immense and swift—had lashed out in less than a blink, colliding with the barrier that separated Gojo from everything else. The sheer speed of it startled him; it was uncannily fast, faster than something that massive should ever move.

But that alone was enough. The dragon wasn’t completely dormant. It reacted when he neared the pillar. That meant something.

“I, am Volcanica. In accordance with the ancient covenant, I ask the will of thee who hath reached the summit.”

The same words, the same hollow intonation. Gojo’s patience frayed, but he pressed on. The dragon’s tail lashed again, then again, each strike rebounding harmlessly against infinity—but each one heavy enough that Gojo knew they’d have turned him into paste if they’d actually landed. He ignored it and kept walking. One step. Two steps. Closer.

The world suddenly erupted in bluish-white.

His six eyes flared, his breath hitching in his throat. This wasn’t fire, nor any ordinary breath attack. It was annihilation made manifest, a torrent of purifying light that threatened to erase not his body, but his existence itself. Instinct screamed louder than thought, and Gojo vaulted backward, infinity tugging the very fabric of space to help him escape.

The rooftop where he’d stood a moment ago ceased to exist.

Stone, air, space itself—obliterated, dissolved into nothing by the dragon’s luminous exhalation. If he’d hesitated, even a hair, all that would've been left was ashes of him.

He felt it in his veins. The raw truth of it.
This dragon wasn’t just dangerous. It was divine.

“Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner.”

Gojo’s lips twisted. “Now it’s ragebaiting me for real.” he muttered. “Might actually have to punch this dragon across the face.”

He promised himself exactly that.

His fists clenched. His body leaned forward, ready to close the distance again—until the air itself shifted.

“--!”

The dragon moved. For the first time, it moved.

Its massive frame uncoiled from the central pillar, wings unfolding with an elegance that made the sky itself seem too small to contain it. Even Gojo, unflappable as he was, froze in awe for half a second. The shimmering blue scales caught the light like jewels, and when the wings spread wide, they didn’t even need to beat. The dragon simply rose. Floating effortlessly, carried not by muscle but by pure magic.

It circled the pillar like a predator, then dove.

The tail swept in a wide arc, cutting through the air with force enough to shear through mountains. Infinity held—but Gojo’s eyes snapped wide as something else hit him.

A feeling. That same sensation that hit him when he couldn't see an attack coming, but his insane senses could.

Death.

Every nerve in his body screamed at once. Instinct overrode arrogance, and he hurled himself aside just as the space in front of him twisted unnaturally—constricting, compressing, then bursting outward in a violent rupture. Reality itself popped like a bubble.

If he hadn’t moved, he would’ve been utterly erased from existence.

“—Tch!”

No time to gawk. He twisted space beneath his feet, holding himself aloft as he pivoted in midair to face what came next.

FWOOOOOM—!

The dragon’s head slammed into him like a freight train. Infinity kept his body intact and unharmed, not that that meant it wasn't exactly uncomfortable being dragged along the head of a massive dragon. Gojo gritted his teeth, seized what purchase he could on the jewel-hard scales, and drove his fist downward in a savage hook, cursed energy swelling—RED—bursting at the knuckles.

The impact landed with an explosion of force, enough to obliterate anything short of an army.

It did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The scales didn’t so much as chip.

Gojo’s grin twitched, teeth bared in wild amusement.
“...You gotta be shitting me.”

"I, am Volcanica. In accordance with the ancient covenant, I ask the will of thee who hath reached the summit."

"Yeah—heard you the first time!" Gojo snarled, clinging stubbornly to the dragon’s back. His hand shifted slightly, grazing a seam between those diamond-like scales—and Volcanica’s response was immediate, visceral.

The dragon roared. Not a war cry, not a bellow of rage. Something else. Something Gojo couldn’t even put into words. Whatever it was, it worked—it rattled his grip, flung him through the air like a ragdoll.

"Shit—!"

He caught himself mid-fall, BLUE pulling his body back with crushing force until he slammed once more onto the beast’s spine. Volcanica writhed, shrieking, its immense wings unfurling as it spiraled higher and higher into the sky, each lurch in its flightline tossing Gojo around like a loose passenger on a rollercoaster gone berserk.

"Is this damn dragon... ticklish!?"

The absurdity almost made him laugh, even as nausea clawed up his throat. He loved rollercoasters—but not when the ride could hurl him into oblivion at Mach speed.

Then he noticed it.

The arena below was gone. The six pillars that had framed the battlefield were no longer in view. His six eyes confirmed the truth—Volcanica had carried him beyond their apex. They had entered new territory.

Gojo didn’t hesitate. He sprang from the dragon’s back, manipulating space midair to descend gracefully, landing with both feet planted on solid ground before Volcanica could wheel back and strike.

Before him rose something vast. A pillar unlike any other—stretching into infinity, beyond even the perception of his Six Eyes. Its base loomed, impossibly broad, and yet what caught his attention were not its size, nor its majesty, but the six simple imprints carved into the stone.

Handprints.

"...Handprints." Gojo murmured. His eyes narrowed, voice repeating itself unconsciously. "Handprints. Handprints—handprints, handprints..."

He scratched at his hair, brow furrowed, then slowly pointed at the prints as if naming them gave the mystery shape.

"...Reid."
"...Flugel."
"...Shaula."

"...Maybe, or another person?"

He wasn’t certain, but it fit. Their marks, etched into the very bones of the tower. A legacy, a record of those who had stood here before him. The discovery was intriguing—thrilling, even—but utterly unhelpful when it came to surviving what came next.

"Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner."

The voice reverberated again, rolling like thunder across the sky. Gojo’s eyes widened, snapping up just as the dragon descended in a slow, deliberate fall. Its colossal frame coiled, wings beating once, twice, before it landed squarely in front of him. For a breath, he dared hope it would simply kneel, as it had before.

It didn’t.

The maw opened. The world turned white.

A torrent of annihilation surged toward him, the same obliterating radiance that had earlier nearly erased him from existence. Gojo reacted instantly—hands out, cursed energy flooding his body, vermillion igniting like a newborn sun. RED detonated from his palms, colliding head-on with the torrent.

For a heartbeat, there was balance.
For a heartbeat, he held.
Then the ground under him began to crack. His knees threatened to buckle.

“—Convergence, divergence… collapse, expansion… All phenomena spiral toward the same truth—”

His mantra steadied him as the red sphere wavered, shrinking under the overwhelming flood. But then, from the center of his palm, cerulean light bloomed—BLUE, a miniature singularity, dragging the very air into its hungry core.

The clash shifted. Space twisted. Opposites drew together.

Red.
Blue.
The ends of infinity pulling toward each other like magnets, colliding in his hands.

Gojo’s grin broke across his face, feral, elated.

“—Infinity is infallible, unstoppable. Have a taste of it all, DRAGON!”

The collision birthed something new. A smear of violet across reality’s canvas.

A flick of his index finger, simple, casual—
and the void obeyed.

"Hollow Purple!"

The orb screamed into existence, massive and merciless, a surge of destruction that momentarily dwarfed even Volcanica’s divine breath. The stalemate broke instantly. The white beam faltered, swallowed whole by the rolling tide of purple.

And then it struck.

The Hollow Purple seemed to strike against the dragon's defense like the judgment of a god, swallowing light in one indiscriminate tide. The detonation bloomed outward, a plume of smoke and warped space rising like a volcanic eruption, black against the sea of clouds.

Gojo’s clothes fluttered, his hair whipped back by the backlash.

"...Seriously..? It didn’t even hit?"

Even got prepared to bring out the sciency talk and oh boy was I gonna get into that role.

Gojo muttered, his grin lingering even in the face of absurdity.

His Hollow Purple had done crazy things before, but against Volcanica, it seems like it may as well have been nothing more than a peddle against the water.

"I guess it was that space-tearing crap, huh? Purple and that trick just... cancelled each other out." His lips curved wider, but his eyes gleamed sharper. "What a damn monster."

Yet even a monster had cracks.

From the smoke and debris of his strike, something glimmered—out of place, imperfect. A single white scale on the dragon’s throat, stark against the rest of its flawless sapphire armor. The revelation was electrifying. A weakness. A secret scar that time had buried, now dragged into the open by battle.

That was his opening. His only chance.

"Alright, shitty dragon..."
Gojo murmured, flicking his arm sideways. Vermillion light surged, cleaving a crescent through the air. The earth split apart, rubble erupting skyward to form a curtain of dust.

Hidden behind the storm, he moved. Fast. Silent. Small.

Volcanica’s body was colossal, mana radiating off it in waves that would drown any ordinary sorcerer. Compared to that endless ocean, Gojo was a flicker—a candle flame against the sun. Harder to see, harder to track. Especially when the dragon’s mind seemed more automated than actual living instinct.

The claws lashed out, sweeping arcs that shredded wind and stone alike, dispersing the dust storm in a heartbeat. But Gojo was already gone. He blurred beneath the titan, sprinting past obsidian talons and the shadow of its massive frame.

The tail came next—slamming like a guillotine. It froze mid-swing, arrested by Infinity, the unstoppable force turned impotent.

Gojo leapt. A surge of cursed energy propelled him skyward. He twisted midair, slipping between two colossal claws that carved vertical slashes into the battlefield, and in the blink of an eye he was atop Volcanica’s head.

The dragon stirred. Wings stretched, body tensed, ready to ascend.

Gojo slid down the curve of its snout, cerulean eyes locking with molten gold. The world froze.

That chill—like death brushing his spine—surged again. Space itself warped in front of him, a bubble of annihilation about to bloom.

But he didn’t move. Not this time.

His grin widened, wild and unshakable.
"Gotcha."

Red.

The cursed energy detonated point-blank, a vermillion blast hammering the white scale dead center.

The effect was instant.

Volcanica’s body seized, a roar tearing from its throat—not the hollow, scripted chant from before, but raw, agonized sound. Its wings buckled, claws dug trenches into the rooftop, and its titanic frame convulsed.

Gojo landed in a roll, sliding to one knee, chest heaving from anticipation.
"Haah—"

Then silence.

No swipe. No roar. No breath weapon.

Only the familiar repetition.

"Thou, who hath reached the top of the tower. Step forth through the first floor, almighty petitioner."

Gojo exhaled, tension bleeding out of him. For once, he welcomed the endless droning voice. If it meant no more bubbles of erasure that literally seemed to just tear apart space, he’d take it with open arms and a smile.

"I, am Volcanica. In accordance with the ancient covenant, I ask the will of thee who hath reached the summit."

His gaze softened, and he nodded. Finally, finally, he had an answer to give.

"...I ask. What is thy will?"

---

Far below, Subaru dragged himself from the void of the third trial, every muscle screaming. His legs wobbled with each step down the endless stairs, body threatening collapse, but he pushed through. Somehow. Always somehow.

At last, he staggered into Shaula’s quarters. Empty now, silent. The absence of her fiery presence only deepened the weight in the air.

"Huff... huff..."

He ignored the healing chamber. Ignored the gnawing pain that demanded rest. Instead, he staggered to the window, bracing himself against the frame with one trembling arm. His eyes lifted.

The clouds that had forever cloaked the tower’s peak were breaking apart, torn open as though the heavens themselves had been split. Beyond them stretched a wide, endless blue—pure sky, unmarred by shadow. Sunlight poured down, radiant and unrestrained, washing the desert in molten gold.

For the first time since stepping into this cursed place, Subaru felt warmth that wasn’t born of fire or pain.

His lips trembled. A sound burst from him—half-laugh, half-sob, unrefined, raw.

“Haah... aha... so, so you did it... Gojo-sensei...”

The words cracked, but the conviction behind them did not. His body wanted to collapse, to surrender, but his voice carried on.

“—You… rewrote the rules of the tower.”

This was what it had all been for. Every trial. Every wound. Every death.

They had fought Reid Astrea, the Sword Saint who could split the world with his blade.
They had stood against Volcanica, the Divine Dragon, a being of covenant and eternity.
They had clawed, bled, and broken themselves to climb higher, higher, higher—

Originally, the climb had been nothing more than a selfish pursuit. A crutch for Subaru’s fractured psyche, a way to prop up the part of him that had shattered again and again. The trials, the blood, the despair—he had endured them for himself, to chase after the pride he had lost, to grasp the proof that he still had worth.

That much hadn’t changed. His goal of reclaiming that missing piece of his soul—Pride—still burned within him, relentless, unyielding. But even he knew, deep down, that this tower wasn’t the place where that journey would end. The Books of the Dead could scar him, mold him, teach him—but they could not complete him. Not here.

And yet… somewhere along the way, that purpose had been eclipsed.

It had become something else. Something far larger than his own wounded pride.

To free her.

Shaula.

If the rules of the tower had shackled her, then tearing those rules apart should have broken the curse. No rules, no bindings. No bindings, no prison.

She should have been free to leave.
She should have been herself again.

That was the hope Subaru clung to with shaking hands.
That was the promise Gojo carried like steel in his chest.

But—

His smile faltered. The pit of his stomach twisted, a leaden weight pressing against his lungs. A tremor ran up his spine, one he couldn’t dismiss as exhaustion.

Why, then—
Why, with the sky finally open above them, with victory right within reach—

—did his nerves scream like they were standing on the edge of a precipice?

---

Gojo trudged through the golden dunes, the desert wind tugging at his jacket. His hands were tucked lazily in his pockets, his breath calm and even. But beneath that composure, his chest was tight. His six eyes flickered, restless, scanning for what he already knew he’d find.

Soon, he would have Subaru. Soon, Shaula. Soon, they’d leave this cursed tower behind and never look back.

That was the plan.

CRACK—CRACK!

The sound of stone shearing and collapsing reached his ears. Quiet, distant, muffled to anyone else. But not him. Not Satoru Gojo. His sharp frown deepened.

He knew what lay beneath. He had buried it himself—buried her beneath mountains of stone and sand. Witchbeasts had swarmed to buy him time, to keep her occupied while he cleared the trial. It had worked. It was supposed to be over.

So why did his chest sink with unease?

A flicker of light answered him.

Gojo’s eyes widened as a radiant beam carved through the air, striking infinity dead on. It clung to it, wrapping his body in brilliance, daring to crush him in pressure—before fracturing, shattering like foil into fragments of mana that bled into the desert wind.

He didn’t flinch. But his voice was low, taut.
“…How is that possible…?”

The sands erupted.

From the ruins of the landslide, a colossal shadow surged upward, shattering rock with a single leap. Six crimson eyes gleamed like lanterns in the darkness, locking onto him. Chitin gleamed wet with blood—not her own. Witchbeasts. Pincers snapped, tail thrummed with killing intent.

Shaula.

Still the Scorpion.

Still bound.

Still not free.

Gojo stood unmoving, staring up at the monster that had once been the girl who worshiped Flugel, the very same who seemed to have no end to her loyalty. He could still feel it, faint but unmistakable—her presence, buried deep within the crimson haze.

"Why... why?" His voice cracked louder than he meant, a mix of anger and disbelief. "I can tell she's still in there—I literally feel it!"

His fists slid free of his pockets, clenching tight at his sides, blue sparks simmering faintly in his palms.

"--I gave her my word." he said, quieter now, jaw tightening. His grin was gone. His tone was steel.
"And when I give a promise... I keep it."

He raised his head, Six Eyes blazing like twin suns, narrowing on the monstrous figure tearing its way free of the sand.

"This little setback?" He exhaled, the desert air trembling with the faint pulse of his cursed energy.
"Nothing. We’re still getting you back, Shaula."

The dunes groaned as her titanic frame descended, pincers gouging trenches in the earth, tail twitching with lethal rhythm.

Gojo’s shoulders loosened. His stance shifted. His lips curved—calm, fierce, resolute.

The Final Curtain had risen.

The Finale—COMMENCE.

Notes:

So yeah, one more chapter before this whole 'watchtower' arc is over, was it as good as the actual arc 6? most certainly not, but it's also impossible for me to build something as complex and incredible as what that arc was, but I still tried my best.

It does mean that the sanctuary arc has pretty much been skipped over for the record.

I need sleep.

Chapter 45: The Starkeeper of the Watchtower.

On the Third Floor of the Pleiades Watchtower, Reid Astrea had fallen to Natsuki Subaru—the frail body he had taken over unable to bear the weight of the first Sword Saint.

On Floor Zero, the so-called 'final challenge' the legendary dragon Volcanica, had been overcame by Satoru Gojo.

Blood, sweat, and sheer stubbornness had carried them here. Subaru—once blind, chasing power to fill the cracks in his soul. Gojo—the one who had shoved him back on his feet, the hand on his shoulder in his darkest moment.

And now, it all led to this.

To save Shaula.
To win.

---

“Let’s do this…”
Gojo muttered, his gaze fixed on the gigantic scorpion.

He advanced—not reckless, but deliberate, measured.

Shaula reacted the same way she always had. Her tail surged with mana before unleashing a brilliant white beam. It warped uselessly around Gojo’s body, scouring the sand beneath his feet but leaving him untouched. With a flick of his wrist, fingers raised, crimson energy gathered.

Then he moved—faster than fast, quicker than quick—sand erupting as he twisted past a pincer that buried itself into the earth. She had tracked him, not with eyes, but instinct honed by centuries of battle and remember Gojo's movements.

Gojo flipped, landing cleanly atop her back. His hand lowered, fingers aimed at her spine—

BOOM!

Crimson detonated outward, flattening everything nearby. Shaula staggered, cracks spreading across her shell, but still stood.

Her tail fired again, beam uselessly dispersing against Infinity. Gojo answered with a brutal uppercut beneath where her face would've been.

“—Hm?”

But Shaula had not endured four hundred years in the Pleiades Watchtower by simply doing nothing. Her carapace suddenly glowed and became an intense red hue, heat bleeding into the air until the battlefield became an oven.

“Huff—uff…”
Gojo’s breath hitched. Sweat instantly clung to his skin, but before the heat could crush him, cursed energy reinforcement coated his body, a second shield.

The same as those fiery centaur witchbeasts... only far worse.

But still he pressed forward. A torrent of strikes, unending, hammering the same point until cracks spiderwebbed deeper.

---

Shaula’s pincers missed. Her beams failed. Her regeneration couldn’t keep pace.

Her body broke. Yet her heart swelled.

Because even as she was reduced to splinters and bruises, she felt gratitude.

A streak of blue passed her vision. Another strike.

She tried to crush him—nothing. She tried to blast him—nothing. Blow after blow fell. Her body screamed. Her soul whispered thanks.

She was losing. She was being dismantled. She was becoming minced meat—

“...At least, that’s what Master always said..” she thought hazily, unsure what the phrase even meant.

But beneath the gratitude was something heavier. Loneliness. Fear. She didn’t want this all to end. She didn’t want the silence to return. She didn’t want to be abandoned again, left alone for another four hundred years.

She wanted to be with her master. To serve him. To make him smile, laugh… love her.

The tower’s rules had been a cage. Annoying, suffocating. But she bore them for his sake. For the day he’d return.

And now, when he was so close… she was about to lose him again.

Her thoughts scattered like sand. Her body fought on instinct. Her heart screamed in silence.

And then—through the haze of fire and pain—a voice.

“—Shaula. Do you want to live?”

The words slipped past her shell, past her curse, and sank deep into the void.

Yes. Yes, she wanted to live. To laugh, to serve, to be loved. To be seen.

Her own voice, fragile and desperate, spilled into the dark:

“I want… Master to love me. I want… I want to live, so that he can come to love me…”

The world shattered.

Her prison of shadow unraveled, peeling away like smoke. In its place—white. Boundless, infinite, terrifying. No ceiling, no floor, no end. Black blotches marred the blankness like ink on a canvas, and above hung a singularity, a devouring black star.

She looked down. No pincers. Hands. Her hands. Fingers trembling, alive.

She lifted her gaze—

—and froze.

Satoru Gojo stood in the endless white as if he had always belonged there, hands in his pockets, cerulean eyes unblinking, calm, infinite.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough.

“Yo~.”

---

The clash outside didn’t slow—it escalated. Shaula’s movements sharpened, her monstrous form adapting with unnerving speed.

Gojo sidestepped a pincer, ready to lunge—only to find the other claw already waiting, stopped dead against his Infinity.

His lips curled into a wry grin.
“Impressive. Predicting me and attacking beforehand… You might actually be smarter in this form than your humanoid one, Shaula.”

It sounded like mockery, but it wasn’t. For the first time, he meant it. Her instincts, sharpened by centuries of waiting and fighting, were catching on. She remembered. She learned. Her monstrous body was refining itself against his impossible attacks.

Of course, all that meant was Gojo might get clipped once or twice—and then heal with reverse cursed technique if it weren't for Infinity. But he still respected it. She was dangerous. Too dangerous for Subaru as he was now.

Her massive frame lunged, body colliding with Infinity—only to be blown back in an eruption of cursed energy, a devastating—RED—cracking against her side and hurling her across the scorching sand.

And within the shell of her mind—

---

“Ahh… where am I now…?”
Shaula’s voice quivered, her gaze sweeping the pale, infinite void above.

“Hmmm. That’s a question I can answer, though you won’t really get it.” Gojo smiled, tapping the side of his head.
“My innate domain. Basically, you’re in my head.”

Shaula’s laugh tinkled awkwardly, false cheer dancing with something fragile.
“Oooh, freaky~ How the heck did I get into your head?”

“Eh, complicated stuff. You wouldn’t follow even if I explained.” He waved it off, then fixed her with a stare sharp enough to peel away facades.
“So… who are you? The freaky red scorpion who won’t stay down, or your own person?”

Shaula tilted her head, her smile tugging wider—but it wavered at the edges.
“Ahh~ I’m me. Master’s apprentice, body and soul. Even if I can’t say much to him anymore… I’m glad I got to see him again, after so long.”

Gojo’s expression darkened. His hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening. She already knew. She understood she was bound in that cursed form, that saving her wasn’t simple. This was her compromise—accepting her cage, as long as she could see Subaru.

He muttered, voice low, venom lacing his words.
“To think I can’t even keep a promise… your master’s a real sicko, you know that.”

Shaula’s smile trembled. It wasn’t joy—it was grief in disguise, the curve of lips masking the tears that never fell. Her memories burned bright, but always just out of reach. Days she’d never touch again.

“Well, that’s reaaaaal rude~” she teased, her tone forced. “But Master did take forever to come back… so I’ll let it slide this time, Gojo~.”

Gojo crossed his arms, studying her.
“I’m impressed. Really. Four hundred years in that tower, and you still held on. Still hoped. Honestly? That makes you stronger than me in that regard.”

Her eyes flickered, wide, uncertain.

“But that doesn’t mean you should’ve just… let it happen.” His words cut deeper than his fists ever could. “You feel things too. You want to cry, but you don’t. You act like a husk, but you’re not. You’re Shaula. You’ve got your own thoughts, your own hope, your own drive. That’s not nothing.”

The void trembled. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“… To think you were set up so badly that not even myself or Subaru can truly fix it…” He muttered.

“I wanted… to tell Master I love him. But instead, I got stuck fighting you, suuucks~.”

Gojo clicked his tongue, annoyance sharp in his throat.
“Tch. Yeah, wasn’t fun for me either—you just wouldn’t stay down. But who said you can’t say what you want now?” He leaned forward, eyes blazing. “There’s a reason I pulled you in here after all.”

Her lips parted. Confusion, hope, fear—all at once.

“Who are you?” Gojo asked again.

“…?”

“Don’t stall. Answer me.”

She trembled. Her voice cracked.

“Ahh… I am Shaula. Starkeeper of the Pleiades Watchtower.”

Gojo shook his head. His voice rose like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“No. You’re infinitely more than that.”

Her breath hitched, eyes widened.

“You’re your own person.”

---

“Oof… uff… huff…”

Subaru pushed through the desert, every step grinding his bandaged wounds against the cruel sand. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but his heart carried him forward. For the first time, he was going to see it—to see her. To save her.

Shaula.

Even if he wasn’t her true master… even if that bond belonged to someone else but she didn't know that… he still promised her that he'd save her. He still had to try no matter what.

“Ah—Gojo-sen…sei…”

Relief cracked through him—only to shatter at the sight before him. The Crimson Scorpion lay slumped in the sand, her shell split with cracks, red eyes dim and near lifeless.

Then, suddenly—

All of those unblinking eyes shifted, turning toward Subaru. Their red glow bled away, replaced by a luminous green. Her shell, once brown, blackened as if scorched by shadow.

Subaru froze.
“Shaula…?”

Gojo’s frown deepened. His gaze slid from the beast to Subaru.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“…So it failed? You mean… she’s still—”

Gojo didn’t answer. His eyes closed, the silence heavy enough to choke.

The scorpion’s battered frame groaned as black smoke seeped from her body, rising in ghostly wisps. Cracks spread wider, each one threatening to unravel her form entirely.

Then her voice broke through, fragile yet playful.

“Master. Do you remember? You told me to wait for you to come back… and then you disappeared all that time ago.”

Subaru’s fists clenched, knuckles trembling.
“I—I already told you… I don’t remember any of that damn it…”

“Hehe~ Well, that can’t be helped. Master’s memory was always terrible… just like mine!”

Stepping toward her and crouching down onto one knee, her pincer suddenly stretched out, brushing away the tears which formed that Subaru could no longer hide no matter how hard he tried.

“Master’s crying for me? Is this… a declaration of love?”

“…How can you say that now? Don’t you feel anything? Anger? Rage? At the bastard who left you to suffer for centuries?”

Shaula chuckled softly, but her voice wavered at the edges.
“There were lonely times… sad times… but only because Master wasn’t here yet. Even so, I endured. Because that’s what my feelings are for. So let me say it clearly, with every piece of me—I love you, Master. And I always will.”

Subaru’s throat closed. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t admit he wasn’t the one she was after, the one she’d been waiting for. He could only kneel, powerless, as more of her form dissolved into black smoke, scattering into the desert wind.

Only her front half remained now, her head and fragile scorpion body crumbling like glass in a storm.

“I will save you.”

Her eyes widened.
“—!”

“No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes. I’ll bring you outside this desert. I’ll make sure you see the world beyond just this desert. And if I ever meet your so-called master… I’ll knock him flat.”

Shaula blinked, stunned—then her non-existant lips curled in a weak, wavering smile.
“Heheh~ Master, KO’ing yourself… that’s so… silly…~”

Her voice faded as her body finally broke apart, the last fragments of the Scorpion turning to dust. Black motes scattered into the wind, slipping through Subaru’s fingers and flying off from the winds of the sandy sea.

He cupped the ashes, whispering hoarsely.
“That, I promise…”

The silence pressed heavy around them. Subaru hunched low, clutching emptiness, while Gojo—expression unreadable—looked away. His hand trembled as he reached out, about to turn Subaru’s shoulder… when he froze.

Something moved.

The ash stirred. The sand shifted. And crawling free from the ruin of the blackened shell came a tiny creature—no bigger than Subaru’s palm. A scorpion, its shell a soft, radiant crimson.

It scraped free with delicate swipes of its claws, tail curling high before it leapt lightly into Subaru’s waiting hands and cradling in on itself.

“…Ah—”

---

Gojo glanced at Subaru’s sleeping form, then sighed quietly. His gaze shifted to Shaula—no smile, no playful teasing, just her eyes lowered to the floor.

“Shaula.”

Her head tilted slightly, brow raising. “Mmm~ what is it?”

“You’ve never thought about leaving this place? Four hundred years… that’s when Reid was alive, right? So you’ve been isolated here that long. Why stay?”

For the briefest moment, sadness flickered in her gaze before she smiled again.
“’Cause master told me to~ so I listened. And it worked out! Master came back to me again!”

Gojo leaned forward slightly.
“Then… if he told you to leave with us, could you?”

“Hmm… not until the trials are done~” She chimed. “If I try to leave with you before that—or if either of you try—I’d just… become a killing machine until you’re both dead. Or I am~”

Her smile softened.
“But that’ll never happen. Master dying is impossible after all~”

“…And you’d lose all sense of self until it was over.” Gojo said quietly.

He frowned. He could survive her attacks—Infinity or RCT would make sure of that—but killing her? That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that neither he nor Subaru wanted to.

The idea of entering this tower, only to end it by killing someone trapped here for four centuries… it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Gojo shook his head.
“Then we just clear all three trials. We were gonna anyway… but now we’ve got an extra reason I guess.”

Shaula’s eyes went wide for a moment.
“…Huh?”

“That way, you get to see your master again, properly, right?”

Her grin returned a moment later, sharp and teasing as always.
“Wooooow~ are you reaaaally flirting with master’s apprentice? I get it, I get it! mhm~ I am sexy Shaula, after all~”

“Ugh… you just had to ruin it, huh?” Gojo muttered, walking over to his own spot near Subaru and lying down.

---

Gojo stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the tiny scorpion nestled in Subaru’s palm. His fists clenched tighter and tighter, but he kept his face neutral.

Inwardly, he was seething. Not at Shaula. Not even at Subaru. But at himself. The moment he’d pulled her into his innate domain, he had known—he couldn’t save her. Not completely. And that was fine. Failure was part of the game.

But he’d made a promise. And he’d broken it.

“Is Shaula…?” Subaru’s voice cracked.

Gojo shook his head, almost too quickly.
“No. That isn’t Shaula. Just… what’s left. She’s gone.”

Subaru shut his eyes, breathing out slow, steady, calm—more calm than Gojo expected.
“Even so. I’ll stand by what I said. I’ll bring her back. No matter how impossible it looks. No matter how long it—AGK!?”

The little scorpion had clambered up Subaru’s shirt mid-speech and suddenly pinched his ear.

Subaru just scowled as Gojo laughed, finally stepping back upright with the tiny scorpion in the center of his palm.
“…Let’s get out of here already.”

“Tsck, are you dumb or something? You look like you can barely even stand right now, get to healing already damn it—”
Subaru yelped as Gojo gave him a firm push toward the tower.

A few minutes later, silence reigned. Only the sound of Subaru’s dragging steps filled the desert. Gojo smirked faintly behind him.
“Overcoming the Pleiades Watchtower. Taking down another Sin Archbishop. Lugunica’s newswriters are going to eat this one up.”

---

When Subaru opened his eyes again, ivory vines dangled above. The familiar weight of the Green Room’s air pressed on his chest. His body felt lighter, healed—spirits weaving their work into his bones.

Relief flooded him—then turned to dread.
“Wait. Where’s—!?”

His head whipped sideways.

There sat Gojo, cross-legged, no more than a meter away. In his hand, the palm-sized scorpion clicked its pincers furiously at his finger, trying—and failing—to pierce Infinity.

“Relax~” Gojo drawled, wiggling his finger just out of reach of the little beast with a grin.
“Been babysitting our friend the whole time. Turns out I’m great at it.”

The tension drained from Subaru’s shoulders all at once. He clutched his chest, sighing in relief.
“Geez… don’t scare me like that.”

“Mm. Don’t thank me too hard. Had to babysit two people today.”

“Tsck—what the hell! Cut me some slack, I just fought Reid damn it!”
Subaru snapped, heat rising in his voice.

Gojo’s grin widened.
“So, on a more serious note. You in good enough shape to finally leave this dump?”

Subaru stretched, groaning as his ribs protested, but managed a nod.
“Yeah… I can walk. Fighting’s off the table for now at least. But I want to see Emilia-tan. The others, too.”

“Good. Because you won’t have to walk anywhere.”

Subaru blinked.
“Eh—?”

“I can teleport us out. The space barrier’s gone. My guess? This means anyone can wander in now, for whatever dumb reason they might want to.” Gojo shrugged, then set the scorpion carefully on his shoulder.

His hand found Subaru’s shoulder, firm, grounding.
“Ready to go see everyone?”

Subaru froze. The weight of everything—Reid, Volcanica, Shaula, Gluttony—crashed down on him. They had quite literally done the impossible.

A laugh broke free from his chest, rough and trembling at first, then swelling into something brighter, cleaner, freer.
“Yeah… Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here already, Gojo-sensei.”

---

Reinhard van Astrea was confused. But above all else, he was concerned.

Since the battle against Pride—and the strange enemy whose face he had never managed to see before being flung back into the capital—it had been days. Days without even the faintest trace of Gojo’s presence.

He had returned to the Astrea Estate, reported Pride’s defeat to the Wise Men, and reassured them that the world was safe from that parasite’s destruction. But reassurance did nothing to soothe his own mind.

Gojo had not appeared. Not once.

Reinhard had trusted his master’s immeasurable strength, but trust could not silence the gnawing weight in his chest. After several days, The Divine Protection of Instinct began to pull at him with irresistible force, whispering one destination into his very bones:

The Sanctuary.

And so he went.

The Divine Protection of Swift Running made his strides a blur. The Divine Protection of Wind Evasion cut the resistance from his path. The Divine Protection of Air Dashing carried him farther than a man had any right to leap. Even so, it wasn’t speed that drove him forward—it was worry.

When he landed in the center of the run-down village, he closed his eyes. He felt no trace of Satoru. But he did feel familiar presences: Emilia. Roswaal. Others.

“…He is not here..” Reinhad murmured.

But instead of immediately leaving, he found himself following the pull of instinct, and found himself at a humble door. He knocked.

“Just a second, please!” came a muffled, flustered voice. Scrambling footsteps followed, and then the door swung wide.

Emilia blinked, her silver hair catching the light. Her mouth opened, then froze, eyes wide.
“R-Reinhard!? What are you… doing here? That’s… reaaaaally odd, if I’m honest…”

Her openness drew a chuckle from him despite the tension in his chest.
“Lady Emilia. Forgive my intrusion, but… have you seen Satoru around recently? A Divine Protection of mine had led me here. I was told I would find him if I came.”

Emilia tilted her head, then nodded slowly.
“Satoru… went to the Augria Dunes I think it was called. To find Subaru...”

Reinhard’s eyes snapped wide.
“Subaru—?”

The name landed heavy. If Gojo had gone to Subaru, then he might be facing dangers Reinhard had yet to understand. Especially if Pride’s parasite still lingered within his friends' body.

“My apologies.” Reinhard said quickly, already stepping back. “I must make haste.”

But Emilia’s brows furrowed, and she stepped out into the doorway after the Sword Saint.
“Wait—!”

Another voice, languid and drawn out, cut across the moment.
“Ahhh~ if it isn’t the Sword Saint himself. What brings a man of your stature to a little backwater village like this at… such a very important time?”

Both Reinhard and Emlia turned. Roswaal leaned casually, his painted smile stretched wide—but behind it, Reinhard felt it. A tension. A restrained anger seeping through cracks in the clownish façade.

“…Important time?” Reinhard echoed.

Roswaal’s mismatched eyes glittered.
“But of course~. Because for the first time in centuries, the residents of this village are finally freeeee…~ All thanks to Lady Emilia’s efforts. She nearly singlehandedly conquered the Sanctuary’s trials, and granted these poor souls their freeeeedom~”

Reinhard’s eyes widened. For a moment, the weight in his chest eased. A true, brilliant smile broke across his face.
“I see… That is wonderful. Truly. Lady Emilia—congratulations. But… I cannot stay to celebrate.”

“Looking for… Satoru Gojoooo~ are we?” Roswaal’s tone dripped like honey, but the air around him felt sharp as glass.
“Not to worry. He should be here… very… very soon~”

Reinhard studied him. He could tell Roswaal was not lying—the Divine Protection of Wind Breathing had informed him of that much. But the anger buried beneath that smile of his was undeniable.

“…Very well.” Reinhard said quietly, at first, before reaffirming with a louder tone. “Then I will wait.”

---

Then, Gojo, Subaru, and the scorpion perched on his shoulder appeared back in the familiar, mud-slicked, grass-covered village of the Sanctuary.

"Haaahhh..." Subaru exhaled, letting the air fill his lungs. A grin spread across his face. "Man… I never thought I'd be happy to be here of all places, but I guess anywhere is better than that watchtower, huh?"

"You wouldn't be wrong in saying that…" Gojo muttered, his Six Eyes sweeping the area. He raised a hand, covering his gaze with the bandages once again, a slight frown forming.

"--Though… this village is emptier than I remember…"

Suddenly, the air shifted. Gojo pivoted instantly toward a red-and-white flicker that manifested into existence—Reinhard van Astrea. Relief washed over his face as his eyes locked on Satoru.

"Ah, yo, buddy old Rein! What's up?" Gojo grinned.

"Ah… that attitude is somehow very unnerving..." Reinhard replied, though his relief was clear.
"But I am equally glad you have returned, Satoru… I was… quite worried."

"Reaaally~ worried about me? You of all people should know my strength!" Gojo chuckled.

Reinhard shook his head, eyes closing briefly.
"I truly wished you'd take my advice and not be so conceited with your strength. Anything can happen… I only wished you'd exercise more caution."

Gojo pouted. Reinhard’s gaze drifted to the silent Subaru.

"Subaru… I am… glad, to say the least, that you are—"

CRACK—!

The ground shattered beneath Subaru's foot. Instantly, he reinforced his legs and arms with every ounce of cursed energy he could muster. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance to Reinhard, swinging a heavy right hook aimed squarely at the Sword Saint's head.

Reinhard didn’t flinch. His palm met Subaru's fist, absorbing the impact that made his white cape flutter slightly before Subaru pulled back, wide-eyed, breath ragged, sweat clinging to his brow.

---

Breath.

Breath—

It was hard to breathe.

Reinhard van Astrea… he was here. The same man who had ended Subaru countless times. Was he here to do it again? Subaru wasn’t sure—but he could still hear it, the constant CLINK in his ears from past loops, past deaths, the terror, the helplessness as Reinhard’s hands had once severed his head without a chance to defend himself.

But he was stronger now. Much stronger, or at least he should've been.

So why… why did the same fear as before grip him?

What had it all been for?

All the dying? All the blood?

"Oi—Subaru!!"

---

"Oi—Subaru!!"
Gojo’s hands gripped Subaru’s shoulders, shaking him gently, pulling him back from the spiral of memories and fear.

"E-Eh… eh..? Oh… what…?"

"Why'd you go all apeshit on Reinhard?" Gojo said, voice trying to stay light. "I know he’s from the same bloodline as Reid, but they’re different people!"

It didn’t work. Subaru’s body trembled as the memories surged—

Memories brought Gojo back to the underground of the Pleiades Watchtower, where Subaru looked at him with absolute fear in his eyes. He thought, he pondered—then he realized. Return by Death. Something must of happened in one of those 'loops' of his, involving Reinhard. And it must of been something bad to put Subaru in a state like this.

"Alright… buddy, just calm down a bit. You’re good."

"Ah… y-yeah… yeah… sorry… I’m good… I’m all good…"
Subaru muttered, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Reinhard’s gaze lingered, surprised by the sudden attack but equally surprised by Subaru’s growth. Yet also, he noticed the fear, the familiar look he had seen from many people in the past. There were many that revered him for being the Sword Saint, but also those that feared him for his unstoppable power.

"I… I must apologize, Subaru… for whatever I might have done—"

"--Whatever you might have done…?" Subaru interrupted, then paused, lowering his head. "No… no, it’s my fault. Forget what just happened—I’m just jumpy after everything we went through aha."

Reinhard looked to him, eyes heavy with a strange expression.

"Anyway… good to see you, Rein. But, uh, do you have any idea where everyone is? This village is definitely emptier than I remember."

"They are preparing to leave." Reinhard said quietly, sensing Gojo’s confusion. "Heading toward the Miload family’s estate—a branch of the Mather family, led by Miss Annerose."

Subaru nodded, unsure of what he was being told.

Reinhard chuckled softly, gesturing for them to follow.
"Lady Emilia was pleased to hear that both of you returned—especially you, Subaru."

Subaru’s eyes lit up.
"Emilia-tan… ah—so she did it. She really beat the whole thing…"

"Indeed," Reinhard said. "An incredible feat, if I may say."

---

They had arrived at another section of the village, where countless ground-dragon–drawn wagons were being readied. Villagers from both Arlam Village and the Sanctuary were climbing aboard, hurriedly preparing for the journey ahead.

Eventually, they ran into Emilia, who immediately rushed toward Subaru, eyes wide with emotion. Gojo couldn’t tell if it was anger, relief, or a mixture of both. He decided not to interfere, turning away with Reinhard sticking to his side like glue.

I guess I’m not gonna have much free time after this, and I really don’t want to picture the amount of work waiting for me.

Beyond that, a familiar head of yellow hair and jagged teeth caught his attention. Garfiel’s glare locked onto him the moment their eyes met.

"Gaaarf~!"

Gojo cackled, leaping forward and wrapping his arms around Garfiel’s legs like a vice.

"Didn't I tell y’not to call my amazin’ self that already, urhk—what the hell are you made of, damn it!?" Garfiel growled, struggling to pry himself free from Gojo’s iron grip, half-suspended off the ground and completely immobile.

---

"Emilia, I’m sorry…" Subaru suddenly muttered, causing Emilia to blink in confusion.

"Umm… I get that running off like that was a bit weird..." she said, “But I’m not sure it warrants such a heartfelt apology. Still, I’ll gladly accept it nonetheless, Subaru."

Of course, she couldn’t understand. She didn’t know what had happened in the past—how Subaru had let Pride get the better of him, how he had treated her and others poorly during those moments. Even now, it disgusted him.

"Well, I’m glad you accepted it nonetheless, Emilia-tan! And I’m glad to report that your trusty knight has finally returned in tip-top condition!" Subaru said with a grin. Emilia merely chuckled.

Another voice cut through the scene.

"I suppose I could say I’m happy you’re here, but that would be a lie, and lies are disrespectful, Barasu." Ram emerged from somewhere unexpected, her signature maid outfit perfectly in place. Her expression was indifferent, though her eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity at Subaru’s return.

"It seems the overly annoying white-haired man did a good enough job bringing you back at least." She said with a nod of approval.

"Ehh… not even a hug or anything for my return?" Subaru asked.

"... Disgusting." Ram scoffed, giving him a look of pure, genuine disdain.

"RUDE, MUCH!?" Subaru shot back.

---

Elsewhere, Roswaal sat in a dimly lit room, a black tome open on the table before him. He tapped his cheek repeatedly, expression unreadable beneath his elaborate makeup.

"Truly… there are no words that suffice." he murmured. "Satoru Gojo—the man who doesn’t exist, and yet here he stands… an anomaly as she put it, through and through."

He sighed, finally averting his gaze from the tome and staring at the wooden ceiling.

"It is far too late to make Natsuki Subaru do this all over again. Yet the stranger thing is… he is growing more powerful with every passing moment. Natsuki Subaru was never meant to be strong. He was meant to be weak."

Roswaal’s sigh deepened.
"I suppose… this is my absolute loss. There will probably be no second chance, especially with Satoru Gojo already suspicious of me."

Notes:

So yeaaah, finally, it has came to an end.
Next? Arc 5, best get the popcorn prepared.