Chapter Text
Episode 01: Awakening
Subaru's body ricocheted off the stone wall with a sickening crack, the kind of sound that carried finality. Blood splattered across the stone, and his breath was forced out of his chest in a pitiful, rattling cough. His head lolled for a second, vision swimming with jagged white flashes of pain. His back pressed against the wall, unmoving, his arms limp like a broken doll discarded after play.
Emilia's voice pierced the chaos. "Subaru!" Her cry was frantic, desperate, edged with horror. She surged forward, hands trembling with blue mana as she tried to reach him—only for her movement to be halted in an instant.
A pale hand clamped down onto her shoulder, nails digging into her porcelain skin like iron claws. The Sin Archbishop of Greed—Regulus Corneas—stood there, his lips curled in a sneer, voice echoing with self-righteous venom.
"You disgraceful woman!" he barked, shaking her violently as if she were a toy. "Do you understand what you've done? Because of you, me, the perfect, pure embodiment of virtue, was forced to endure the vile insult of disrespect! Disrespected!" His words thundered through the ruined street, distorted with indignation. "Unacceptable! Unforgivable!"
He turned, his hand lifting as if he were a god preparing to judge the wicked. His arm pointed at Subaru, limp and coughing, barely conscious against the wall. Regulus's pale eyes narrowed, gleaming with twisted delight. "And now… watch as he pays the price for your transgressions. Watch as my very own high hands deliver judgment."
Emilia's heart stopped. "Subaru!" she screamed again, her silver hair scattering as she threw her magic at Regulus in a frenzy. Shards of ice erupted from her palms, crystalline spears and jagged blades bursting through the air—yet they shattered uselessly the instant they touched him. No cracks, no marks, not even the faintest blemish marred his pristine form. His body, wrapped in Greed's authority, rejected everything.
"Do you see?" Regulus said, his voice rising to a sermon-like cadence, cruel and gloating. "Do you see the futility of your existence compared to me? Your struggles are meaningless. Your resistance is a mockery of justice itself. You, woman, have failed both him and yourself."
Emilia's chest heaved, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she tried again, and again, her magic shattering against his invincible aura. "Stop! Please—please stop!" Her words cracked, breaking under the weight of desperation.
Against the wall, Subaru's eyelids fluttered. The world was muffled, a haze of sound and pain crashing through his head in distorted waves. Regulus's words barely reached him, Emilia's crying voice was far away, almost like an echo underwater. His bloodied lips trembled as a thought stirred in his fading mind.
"…Is this it?" The thought came sluggish, drifting between shards of agony. His blurry eyes moved to Emilia—her shoulders shaking, her face twisted in helpless despair as she struggled against Regulus's grip. Subaru's chest ached, but not just from broken bones. Something deeper, sharper, bit into his soul.
"I guess… I'll have to try again." His fingers twitched faintly against the rubble. A bitter smile formed on his cracked lips. "Good luck next time…"
But something was different this time. As his eyes drooped closed, a pressure built behind them, sharp and molten. Heat seared into his skull, spreading like wildfire through his nerves. His eyes burned. Not the dull ache of exhaustion—this was alive, seething, something unnatural clawing awake from deep within.
Regulus's voice thundered above him. "Die, you mongrel!" The Sin Archbishop's hand thrust forward, unleashing an invisible force that warped the air itself. The attack was merciless, pure annihilation meant to smear Subaru's body across the cobblestones.
"SUBARU!" Emilia's scream split the heavens, breaking with raw anguish as the attack tore across the battlefield.
Then came the explosion.
A thunderous boom cracked the night. The invisible strike collided with stone, erupting into shrapnel as walls burst apart. Debris rained down in chaotic showers, and a tidal wave of dust engulfed the street. Buildings groaned under the shock, windows shattered, and the ground itself seemed to lurch under the blast.
Emilia's legs gave out as she fell to her knees, chest heaving, tears flooding her eyes. She pressed her trembling hands against the rubble-strewn ground, staring into the blinding cloud. The tears blurred her vision as her voice cracked. "No… Subaru… please, no…" Her words dissolved into sobs as she clawed forward, as if her hands alone could dig through the dust to find him.
Regulus, meanwhile, stood tall. His pale hair whipped in the breeze, his spotless robes untouched by dirt. He turned his gaze skyward, closing his eyes, speaking with the arrogant grandeur of a saint giving sermon.
"This is justice," he intoned, his tone thick with sanctimony. "This is the natural order of things. Weak, insignificant peasants, mongrels who dare to spit upon perfection, are punished. The world cannot suffer those who mock divinity, who ridicule the sacred balance by standing against what is right. Do you understand, woman?" He gripped Emilia's chin cruelly, forcing her tear-stained face upward. "Do you see how insignificant he was? How insignificant you are? Against me, there is no victory. There is no resistance. Only the grace of my mercy—or the wrath of my judgment."
But then it happened.
Both he and Emilia froze.
A chill, alien and heavy, slithered across their spines. The hairs at the back of Emilia's neck stood rigid, her sobs caught in her throat. Her breath hitched sharply, and goosebumps prickled across her trembling arms. The air grew thick—so thick it was suffocating, like tar filling her lungs.
Even Regulus faltered. His lips pressed together tightly, his sermon cut off mid-word. Something cold and primal squeezed around his heart, an instinctive dread that he couldn't explain, couldn't rationalize. His Authority hummed around him, yet the sensation penetrated deeper than power—something older, darker, untouchable.
The dust began to thin, drifting away with the wind. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the battlefield cleared.
And then they saw him.
Subaru.
He was standing.
His head tilted forward, his figure outlined in fractured light and curling smoke. His clothes were torn, his body battered, but he stood regardless—upright, immovable. And what froze them both, what made Emilia's breath choke and Regulus's blood run cold, were his eyes.
Two crimson orbs glowed in the dark, burning like twin stars of hatred. They were not human eyes. They were not the eyes of the boy Emilia had screamed for, nor the peasant Regulus thought he had crushed. They were raw, seething, and ancient, dripping with murderous intent that promised only despair.
The crimson light locked onto them, unblinking, merciless.
And for the first time, Regulus Corneas—the Sin Archbishop of Greed—felt something he despised above all else.
Fear.
Al's sword whistled through the air, his blade glimmering beneath the faint moonlight, carving Capella cleanly from shoulder to hip. Her body crumpled into two halves with a grotesque wet sound, her mocking laughter choking off for the briefest moment. But in that same breath, her severed form wriggled and stretched, organs twisting like serpents, flesh crawling and stitching itself back together until she stood whole again, her lips curled in that venomous smirk.
"Oh, Al-sama," she cooed, her tongue dragging along her pale lips as if savoring his frustration. "You always cut so cleanly. I think you secretly enjoy me like this—over and over, carving into my perfect body only for me to show you just how useless it is. Do you like watching me heal? Does it make you feel special?"
Al clenched his sword tighter, his hand trembling not with fear but with mounting irritation. Sweat gathered beneath his helmet, and his single eye narrowed. "You're a piece of work, lady. Do me a favor and shut your mouth before I start doing this just for the fun of hearing you scream."
She chuckled, voice high-pitched and slithering. "You already love my screams, knight. And besides, you couldn't kill me if you tried. I'll be here long after you're dust. Don't you think that's beautiful? Isn't eternity with me just the dream every man wants?"
Al answered with another swing, sparks flying as his blade cleaved her skull in two. Again she toppled, again she reformed, her body weaving itself together like strands of silk. But then she shifted. Bones cracked, her flesh rippled, and in a shimmer of grotesque transformation her figure reshaped into a woman that stopped Al cold for a second.
Priscilla.
Her radiant hair, her delicate yet imperious eyes, her flawless form dressed in royal crimson. The mimicry was perfect—every curve, every breath, every cruel little smile she often wore.
"Al," Capella purred in Priscilla's voice, tilting her head in mock affection. "Don't I look divine, Al? Doesn't it stir your knightly devotion when you see your precious Hime-sama right before you? Cut me down now, would you? I want to see the look in your eye when your blade slices into your beloved's chest."
Al froze, his breath heavy inside his helmet. For a heartbeat, a boiling rage burned in his chest. It wasn't just her playing tricks with her flesh this time—it was her, mocking the only woman he had sworn to serve, to protect. His jaw locked. His sword quivered with his fury, but he steadied it, forcing the hot anger down. "You've got no right to wear her face," he said coldly, his voice like iron dragged across stone. "Do what you want with your own filth of a body, but don't you dare drag Hime-sama into this. You'll regret it."
Capella's laughter filled the air again, her hands running down her false form like a lover's caress. "Oh, but I wear her so well. Look at me, Al. Isn't this what you want to protect? Isn't this what makes you swing your sword? You're fighting for nothing but a pretty face, after all."
Her taunting was interrupted.
Both their heads snapped to the side, a force tugging at their instincts so hard it was like being yanked by invisible chains. A wave of power swept through the battlefield, not light, not sound, not anything they had felt before—it was deeper, heavier, beyond the senses of men. Al's breath hitched, his whole armored form stiffening as if his feet had fused to the ground. His instincts screamed at him to retreat, to move, to do something, but he couldn't. It was as if the world itself had forbidden him.
Inside his helmet, Al's lone eye narrowed, the faint glint of panic buried beneath his hardened soldier's glare. "Oh, no," he muttered.
Even Capella's mocking smile faltered. Her body twitched, her golden eyes wide and darting across the horizon. Her playful posture was gone, her tongue stilled. "What… what's that presence…?" she whispered, her voice a shadow of genuine confusion. For once, her words weren't dripping with venom. She felt it too, the suffocating pressure that bound the marrow in their bones.
The battlefield fell silent, as though the entire world was holding its breath.
Ricardo's claws tore through the ground, his massive frame barreling toward the childlike figure of Gluttony. The Archbishop giggled in shrill delight as he dodged, flipping backward with an unnatural grace, his small body moving like water. Julius appeared behind him in a flash, his sword gleaming, thrusting in a clean, precise arc. But Gluttony spun with eerie speed, a palm flashing outward, and suddenly the blade was blocked—not by strength, but by technique, the exact technique Julius himself had once mastered.
"Ahaha! Tasty, tasty!" the boyish voice sang out, his eyes wide with manic hunger. "All of you, your names, your flavors—I can feel them inside me! Your swordplay, your claws, your magics, all of it belongs to me now! You think you're fighting together, but you're only fighting yourselves. Delicious, isn't it?"
Ricardo growled, swiping again with a claw, his teeth bared. "Quit your yappin' and fight fair, brat!"
But Gluttony only grinned, his small form slipping past the attack, twisting in midair. "Fair? Why would I care about fair when I am everything you've lost? Every poor fool who screamed when I devoured their name is still screaming in my belly! Do you want to hear them? Do you want to hear the people you failed?"
Julius's jaw tightened, his eyes sharp but his chest heavy with fury. The spirits fluttering around him hummed uneasily, disturbed by the Archbishop's presence. He moved again, elegant strikes slicing in rapid succession, each faster than the last. Ricardo lunged alongside him, claws and steel weaving in unison. But every strike was met, every blow anticipated—Gluttony fought with their own rhythm, their own skills reflected back at them.
"You can't beat me!" the child shrieked, his voice cracking with manic joy. "I am everyone! I am infinite! You two are just morsels for me to savor!"
Julius's sword clashed once more, his teeth gritted, his body straining. Ricardo snarled in frustration, blood dripping from a fresh gash on his shoulder. They were cornered, pressed harder and harder as the Archbishop's laughter filled the air like broken glass.
Then the boy lifted his hand, energy swirling with stolen magic, his lips curling into a sadistic grin. "Now—time to eat you whole!"
The three froze.
The laughter died on Gluttony's lips, his wide eyes flickering with sudden unease. Julius stiffened mid-swing, his spirits quivering, trembling so fiercely they nearly lost form. Ricardo's hackles rose, his claws retracting involuntarily, his throat rumbling with an animalistic growl born of fear rather than rage.
The air changed. No, the world changed.
It was as though the ground beneath them had solidified into ice, freezing them in place. A pressure unlike anything they had ever known pressed down upon their bodies, crushing, suffocating, relentless. Even Julius—who had faced countless battles, countless foes—felt his stomach turn, bile rising in his throat. His spirits, delicate lights always brimming with pride and companionship, shuddered in pure terror, their tiny voices flickering with cries he could barely comprehend.
"What…" Julius's voice caught. He forced it out, strangled and hollow. "…what is this power?"
Gluttony's grin had vanished. His eyes darted left and right, his hands trembling as he backed away despite himself. His lips quivered. "W-what… what is that…?"
The silence of the battlefield was absolute. Not even the wind dared move.
Priscilla danced amidst the chains of Wrath's madness, her crimson dress untouched, her golden eyes glowing with amusement as if the world were nothing but her stage. Flames curled around her fingertips, elegant and precise, each wave of her hand sending searing ribbons of destruction to unravel the chaotic chains Sirius hurled at her.
The Archbishop of Wrath shrieked with unbridled passion, her body twisting as her many chains lashed out in frenzied arcs. "Love! Do you not feel it, woman? This fire, this bond, this connection between all hearts! My love burns for everyone! For you! You must accept it, you must understand the truth of my affection!"
Priscilla's laughter rang clear, haughty and sharp, slicing through the Archbishop's screaming as easily as her flames sliced through her chains. "How vulgar. Your love is nothing but a tantrum dressed in rags. I am above such pitiful sentiments. Love, hate, despair—it all bends before me, as does the world itself."
Sirius's body shuddered violently, her voice breaking into a howl. "You dare mock my love? You dare belittle it? I'll make you understand! I'll shatter your arrogance and bind you in chains of burning passion until you weep for my embrace!"
Priscilla extended a single hand, fire dancing in her palm, her posture as regal as if she stood upon her throne rather than a battlefield. "How laughable. I do not weep. The sun does not bow to the cries of the insects beneath it. You may scream of love, Archbishop, but you will never touch me."
Their clash thundered through the streets, fire and chains colliding in explosions of sparks and fury. Yet, as their battle roared, a shift occurred.
Priscilla halted mid-motion, her flame flickering unnaturally. Her body stiffened, her eyes narrowing, her breath pausing. Sirius too froze, her chains falling limp as her many limbs trembled. Both of them turned, almost unwillingly, their gazes drawn toward the chapel in the far distance.
Their chests tightened, their blood ran cold, and the battlefield seemed to bow beneath a weight beyond comprehension. The undeniable pressure pressed down upon them, stripping away breath, will, even thought. It was not magic, not Authority, not anything they knew. It was older, darker, an ocean of dread that swallowed them whole.
"What…" Sirius rasped, her manic voice breaking into a whisper. "What is that…?"
Priscilla's lips parted, her confident smile finally faltering for the first time. Her voice was low, almost reverent. "That presence…"
They stared toward the chapel, where the darkness pulsed like the heartbeat of some terrible angel.
What was that?
Garfiel's claws gleamed faintly in the flickering torchlight, blood dripping from his knuckles as the final fragments of Kurgan's enormous form scattered like fading embers. The giant warrior's voice lingered in the air, his deep rumble softening in defeat, the single word echoing off the wet walls of the sewer. "Amazing…" And then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows, leaving nothing behind but silence and Garfiel's ragged breaths.
For a moment, Garfiel stood there, panting, his muscles trembling but his grin wild and fierce. He had done it. The giant was gone, beaten into nothing but dust by his claws, his strength. Then, like the crack of a dam bursting, cheers erupted.
"Gorgeous Tiger!" cried one of the kids, their voices high and unrestrained.
"Gorgeous Tiger!" shouted another, followed by a wave of voices until the entire sewer thundered with the chant. His half-siblings—though neither they nor Garfiel knew it yet—screamed his name with unashamed pride, their fists pumping the air. Soon everyone in the sewer, from the smallest child to the toughest adult, echoed the words, their voices bouncing against stone, filling every corner of the underground.
Garfiel's chest swelled with pride. His heart beat like a drum as he raised his fists and laughed, a raw and victorious sound. He felt great. Damn, this was how it was supposed to be—fighting with everything he had, protecting people, and then being cheered for it. So this is how it feels to be a hero…
But then, the cheering stopped.
It wasn't gradual, wasn't natural. It cut off all at once, as if the sound had been ripped out of every throat in the room. A pin drop silence stretched across the sewer. People's mouths hung open but no sound came out. Children clutched each other, eyes wide, trembling. Some of the adults staggered, their knees buckling under the weight of something unseen, something indescribable. A few collapsed altogether, their bodies pressing against the damp stone floor as if forced to bow.
The torches guttered. The air thickened, heavy like tar, suffocating in its weight. The walls themselves seemed to shrink inward, pressed down by the crushing presence that had settled over them. Hearts raced, stomachs twisted, minds screamed with the instinctive knowledge that something greater than themselves—greater than anything—was awake.
Garfiel froze. His muscles, so fierce and ready, now felt like lead. His claws trembled as his body tried to resist the urge to kneel, to crawl, to submit. His instincts screamed predator, screamed danger, screamed run. His lips parted, the words raw and broken as his eyes widened, staring in the direction above the sewer, toward the chapel.
"...Taicho?" His voice cracked in disbelief. Because there was no mistaking that aura, that suffocating, world-crushing force. That was Subaru.
Otto's mind raced as he darted behind a pile of debris, his lungs burning with every breath. The Sin Archbishop of Gluttony stood amidst the chaos, his small form grinning with wide, gleeful eyes. The boy's childlike laughter echoed horribly as the mercenaries and merchants tried desperately to keep him occupied. Felt's ragtag men slashed, stabbed, fired arrows, but the child twisted, danced, and retaliated with stolen skills that cut through them like they were made of paper. Rom's enormous fists swung down in a fury, smashing stone, but even the old giant couldn't land a killing blow.
Otto gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead. They just needed time. Just a little more time until Felt brought that. The weapon. The one thing Subaru had promised would work against this monster. Until then, Otto had to keep him distracted, had to keep him away from saying anyone's name.
The child Archbishop cocked his head, smiling at Otto with an eerie, almost innocent tilt. "You're funny. You keep running, keep thinking, keep scheming. You'd taste wonderful, I think. Tell me your name. I want it. I want to know who I'm eating."
Otto froze, his stomach twisting. Subaru had warned him—never say your name to Gluttony. Never. He kept his lips pressed tight, his green eyes sharp with the fear of survival.
The child's smile flickered. Annoyance flashed across his cherubic features. "Why won't you answer? Names are precious! I deserve to have them! That's what I do! I eat, I devour, I make everyone part of me. Why are you keeping it from me?" His voice grew louder, shrill and desperate. "Give me your name! Give it to me now!"
Otto didn't reply. He pressed his lips tighter, blood seeping from his bitten tongue to silence the instinct to talk.
The Archbishop's grin stretched too wide, his teeth sharp as daggers. "Fine. Don't give it to me. I'll just tear it out of you when you're screaming."
The boy raised his hands, magic rippling with stolen might, and Otto felt his legs freeze. This was it. The others braced themselves, shouting, charging, trying to intercept.
And then it happened.
The ground itself seemed to groan. The air trembled. Every breath in the battlefield turned cold, every heart seized. A silence fell, deeper than death, heavier than the night sky pressing down upon the earth. Otto's lungs refused to draw air. His chest tightened like a vice, his legs buckling against a weight he couldn't comprehend.
The Sin Archbishop paused mid-motion, his head whipping to the side, eyes wide with shock. His hands trembled, the magic flickering uncertainly.
The mercenaries dropped their weapons, their eyes vacant with awe and terror. Rom's great hands lowered, his ancient body bowing involuntarily, his breath ragged.
Every gaze, every soul turned toward the same point—the direction of the chapel.
"What is that power…?" Otto whispered hoarsely, his body trembling, his heart screaming. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't be in the face of it.
Even Gluttony, the monstrous child who laughed at everything, fell silent, his lips trembling, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. For the first time, Otto saw fear on his face.
The world itself seemed to whisper in unison, every living thing recoiling before the same truth. Something had awakened in that chapel. Something no man, no monster, no Sin Archbishop could stand against.
And Otto knew. He knew before anyone else could put it into words.
That was Subaru.
Regulus's lips twisted, his porcelain face contorting into something ugly, something that stripped away his self-proclaimed dignity. His eyes, always smug with the gleam of superiority, now narrowed with disgust as he stared at the boy who simply refused to die. Subaru stood in the debris, his body battered and bloodied, ribs broken, skin torn, breath ragged—but alive. Worse than alive. His eyes burned with an unnatural glow, crimson orbs swirling with hatred so deep it could drown nations.
Emilia's voice trembled, her hands clutching the ice around her as though it could anchor her. Relief and dread tangled in her chest, emotions tearing at her. "Subaru…" she whispered, hope blooming, fear entwining it all the same.
Regulus's voice cracked into a shrill screech, spittle gathering at the corner of his mouth. "Anosa—! How dare you! How dare you defy the judgment I, the magnificent, the perfect, the embodiment of virtue itself, have decreed? I decided you were to die! You were to splatter against the wall, to be erased from existence! That is the fate I dictated, the judgment handed down by these flawless hands, and yet—yet—you stand there, as if my will means nothing?" His body shook, his robes flaring as his voice rose higher and higher. "This is not arrogance on my part, this is righteousness itself! I am superior! I am above! I am—!"
Subaru didn't move. He didn't flinch. His face remained blank, unreadable, but his eyes—those glowing, blood-red eyes—were filled with a hatred so raw that it was louder than words, heavier than Regulus's shrieking sermon. The silence of Subaru's stillness was sharper than any rebuttal.
Regulus, enraged by that silence, thrust his hand outward. The air cracked, warped, an invisible force rushing forward like the fist of a god. "Then disappear! Be judged again, mongrel!"
"Subaru!" Emilia screamed, her heart clawing out of her chest as the attack ripped through the air.
But Subaru was gone.
One blink, and he vanished.
Regulus's eyes widened, his breath hitching for just an instant before he snarled. Then Subaru reappeared, standing casually atop a mound of rubble, his body still dripping blood, his stance loose but unshakable.
Regulus frowned, his lips curling in disdain. "So you awakened some pitiful speed trick? So what? Do you think that makes you anything more than the vermin you've always been? Do you think fleeting movement changes the infinite superiority of my existence? I am untouchable. You are—"
He didn't finish.
The next thing he knew, Subaru's fist was buried in his face.
The impact was thunderous, a shockwave cracking the stone beneath their feet. Regulus's body, so smug in its invulnerability, was hurled backward like a ragdoll, smashing through rubble and sending debris flying in every direction. His voice cut off mid-word, drowned out by the violent crash as he plowed into the earth.
Emilia gasped, stumbling forward as her knees buckled—but before she could fall, Subaru's arms caught her. She froze in his embrace, her trembling fingers pressing against his chest, feeling the wild, unnatural energy radiating from him.
Her wide violet eyes searched his face. "Subaru…? Is… is this really you?" Her voice quivered, uncertainty and fragile hope lacing every syllable.
His gaze met hers. Those crimson eyes, no longer blank, glimmered with something terrible yet familiar. In their depths she saw it—the strange, alien pattern glowing within his pupils. Six double-layered petals, woven in red and black, forming a star that seemed both beautiful and terrifying.
Subaru smiled, and when he spoke, it was in that all-too-familiar cheer, his tone dripping with forced bravado like always. "I'm Natsuki Subaru, your very own Spirit Knight, Emilia-tan!"
Her breath caught. For a second, despite the fear clawing at her, she almost smiled too.
In the distance, rubble shifted violently. Regulus rose, his white robes pristine, his body entirely unmarred, his face twisted with fury. His voice cracked like lightning, shrill and hateful. "Who the hell does he think he is?! Who dares strike me, me, with his filthy mortal hands?!"
Subaru didn't turn. His grin softened, his voice lowering as he continued. "It's just that…" His eyes flicked briefly away from Emilia, shadows crossing his expression. "…I recalled a long-lost part of me."
Emilia's brows furrowed. "Long-lost part…?" she repeated, voice fragile, almost afraid to understand.
But Subaru didn't answer. His left eye twitched, then bled, crimson rivulets streaming down his cheek, staining his battered face. Emilia gasped, her hand flying to his face, her panic bursting out. "Subaru, your eye—!"
He didn't even flinch. He didn't seem to feel it. His voice dropped, calm, deadly. "Amaterasu."
The word itself seemed to ignite the air.
In an instant, black flames erupted across Regulus's body, licking his pristine robes, devouring the ground beneath his feet. The fire wasn't normal. It didn't crackle or spark—it writhed, shadows alive, consuming everything it touched with a hunger that defied nature itself.
Regulus shrieked, flailing against the inferno, but not in pain—no, in outrage. The flames clung to him like tar, unrelenting, but his body remained untouched beneath them. His face twisted with sheer disgust as he flicked his wrist dismissively.
And just like that, the flames vanished. Snuffed out like candles in the wind.
His glare, sharp enough to cut steel, bore into Subaru. "Pathetic," he hissed. "Childish parlor tricks. Do you think darkness itself can harm me? I am superior in every angle, every aspect. You are nothing. Nothing but a nuisance clinging to powers you don't deserve."
Subaru's bleeding eye burned brighter, crimson light cutting through the shadows. He stood firm, his expression unreadable, his glowing gaze promising only one thing.
This wasn't the same Subaru Regulus thought he'd crushed.
This was something else. Something far older. Far darker. And far more terrifying.