"To think
That was the first thing
Hearing that, Subaru's eyes widened, and both Emilia and Otto showed their surprise.
"Garfiel is going to face the 'Trial'... Are you serious?"
"As serious as it gets. Right, Garf?"
Ram nodded in response to Subaru's fearful question and looked up at Garfiel, who stood beside her.
The two didn't differ much in height, but Garfiel still had a slight edge over Ram. Even now, he was fidgeting with his blood-crusted bangs, turning his face away from the conversation as though refusing to listen.
Ram grabbed his ear and yanked without any mercy.
"I'm talking to you, Garf. Ignoring me? That's quite the nerve you've got."
"Ow ow ow!? Hey, Ram!? My ear—the root just went *pop*, did you hear that!? It's about to tear off... there's blood coming out, you know?!"
"It seems the lesson from getting ganged up on by everyone hasn't sunk in yet. Let me remind you that Emilia-sama is still here with her stamina completely untouched. You know what'll happen if you keep up that defiant attitude, don't you?"
"Y-you... I don't intend to do anything so violent..."
They were both battered and exhausted, pushed to their absolute limits—but Emilia, who hadn't participated in the fight at all, was the only one in perfect condition.
And yet, after fighting a battle where keeping her out of it had mattered, Ram had the audacity to immediately fall back on Emilia's power for intimidation. That nerve was genuinely terrifying.
"I knooow. A rematch right here and now wouldn't give me any chance. My strength's mostly back thanks to the Blessing of the Earth Spirits, but... it's not enough to fight properly."
"Good to hear you say that. Honestly, I'd rather not have another fistfight with you. I thought I was gonna die. Out of the last month, that was probably the second or third closest."
"Natsuki-san, how many near-death experiences have you been through? That's scary."
Subaru shuddered at the memory of his brawl with Garfiel. Otto, hearing Subaru's assessment, shuddered at the sheer intensity of it all.
Incidentally, calling it the second or third closest among his near-death experiences—when you factored in the times he had actually died, the real danger level might have been somewhat lower.
"...Second or third, huh?"
"Yeah. Second or third, something like that. On the surface, there've been plenty worse."
"Hah! I'm not falling for that sweet talk. 'Behind every money-making scheme lies a scam,' as they say."
Garfiel snorted at Subaru's provocation and touched the white scar on his forehead.
Then, with those sharp golden eyes, he turned toward the tomb standing imposingly behind them.
"Sweet talk and force combined... and you still expect me to believe it? The rest, I'll judge with my own damn eyes."
"What are you going to judge?"
Emilia asked quietly as Garfiel lowered his voice.
Garfiel turned his gaze to Emilia, and Emilia met his stare head-on.
Perhaps this was the first time these two had truly faced each other in this
Emilia withstood Garfiel's violently intense gaze. Yet, before that stare, she didn't so much as flinch her violet eyes.
As if seeing something deep within each other's gaze, both of them suddenly relaxed their lips at the same time.
Garfiel clicked his sharp canines together, and Emilia started to reach a hand toward her chest—then caught herself and stopped.
Seeing that gesture, Garfiel reached toward his own right shoulder— "Nu—gah...!"
The blue crystal stone that had been embedded in his right shoulder was wrenched out with a dull sound.
For an instant, blood traced a line down Garfiel's right shoulder, but he clenched his muscles to forcibly staunch the flow. He tossed the crystal stone toward Emilia, who had her eyes wide open, after giving it a quick wipe.
"Wha—"
"Take it properly. That thing... you're the one who should have it."
Garfiel said brusquely to Emilia, who had caught it reflexively.
Emilia, accepting his words, drew a breath at the blue glow of the crystal stone in her hand. The stone emitted a faint light, flickering as if celebrating that Emilia had received it.
Watching from the side, Subaru crossed his arms—it wouldn't have been any different if the stone could talk.
"Thank you, Garfiel."
"All I did was throw a disgusting thing at you. No need for thanks."
He tossed those words back at her, then casually looked up at the sky.
The sky, tinged orange, would soon give way to night. Once it did, the preparations for the Trial would be complete.
"—I'm going to confirm. Whether I'm the one who's wrong, or whether you are."
Declaring his resolve, Garfiel turned on his heel.
The foot he planted forward was headed toward the tomb—the place where, from his earliest years, nightmarish memories had been carved into him.
After all this time, what would he see there?
"Hey, Garfiel."
A voice called out from behind, stopping him as he'd already steeled himself.
Garfiel clicked his tongue and turned around to see Subaru with his hand raised.
"What?"
"Look, I'd really rather not throw cold water on this, but... there seems to be a little time before the Trial starts, and..."
While doing exactly the thing that amounted to nothing but throwing cold water on it, Subaru scratched his head and faltered.
Garfiel, seeing Subaru's uncomfortable expression, urged him on by clicking his teeth.
Prompted by that, Subaru let out a sigh and said, "At the very least, go change your clothes. There's a limit to how indecent a loincloth on the verge of falling off can be."
The barbarian style of feeling the wind directly on your crotch.
At Subaru's remark, a vein bulged on Garfiel's forehead, and Ram let out an exasperated sigh.
"That's certainly not a dignified image."
--- The instant he changed clothes and set foot inside the tomb, Garfiel knew from the feeling in the air that the conditions for the Trial had been met.
Damp air filled the stone chamber. A chilly wind cut through, and the musty smell tickled his nostrils—making him grimace. For Garfiel, who had a nose that was far too keen, the stench of an enclosed space was an unbearable assault on his senses.
"Don't wanna stay here long."
His murmur echoed through the passageway, but no voice answered from anywhere.
Feeling the hardness of the ground beneath his feet over and over, his body pushed deeper and deeper into the tomb.
Without realizing it, Garfiel was aware that his heartbeat was accelerating.
He had made up his mind. He would take on the Trial, see it through, and return. His resolve was firm. And yet, he couldn't stay calm because what awaited him evoked memories of a fear so deep it could never be fully erased.
A part of him always wondered—what would change if he touched those memories again?
Even if he saw that scene once more with his own eyes, what could possibly be different about the current Garfiel? He hadn't forgotten those memories for even a single moment. They were seared into his mind with vivid clarity.
What result could possibly come from reviewing them, other than reinforcing them?
"...Pathetic. I came all this way to confirm that, didn't I?"
He lined up plausible reasoning to mock the part of himself that wanted to run away.
No wonder Ram had yelled at him and belittled him for being so spineless. He never wanted to know—never wanted to realize—that he was such a coward.
—What had he planned to do if he was the kind of man who lost to this cowardice and weakness?
"—"
Garfiel stopped his feet on the stone floor and became conscious of the earth.
The power welling up from the soles of his feet was a warm pulse—the earth lending its strength to him, Garfiel, who possessed the Blessing of the Earth Spirits.
Even with a body that was wounded, battered, and depleted, simply being in contact with the earth allowed Garfiel's body to recover and grow stronger.
Right after the beating he'd taken, it might not have been possible, but with a period of rest and distance from the fight, he could operate at about forty percent of his full capacity. If he put his mind to it, he could even demolish the tomb.
And if Subaru, Ram, and the others had sent Garfiel in alone, they would have had no way to stop him if he started destroying things. All the effort they'd put into bringing him down would be completely nullified. Right now, he could nullify it.
Were those people really so dense as to not consider even that?
"Son of a bitch."
As if.
People like Emilia, who seemed incapable of suspecting others, and Otto, who seemed to be missing a few screws in critical areas—sure, maybe. But calculating types like Subaru and that Ram? There was no way they'd overlook that possibility.
They were convinced that even if Garfiel got his strength back, he wouldn't destroy the tomb.
Did they think he was a coward for it? Or did they believe in him?
In his current state, Garfiel didn't know which was true.
Perhaps that answer, too, lay on the other side of the Trial.
"...Whatever."
He spat out irritably and resumed walking.
Thinking through complicated matters wasn't his strong suit. He was bad at using his head, whether in daily life or in a fight. But he had forced himself to think hard because someone had told him once.
"Think more when you fight, Garf. If you do, Ram will be happy."
"—Ah."
He suddenly remembered who had pointed out that he needed to live by thinking.
Was that why he had been trying so hard—so earnestly, almost foolishly—to hold on to that?
If that was the case, then Garfiel had been told by the very person who had said "think more" that it would have been better if he'd fought without thinking. The sheer absurdity of it was almost impressive.
"How damn stupid... hey... wait?"
Involuntarily, a laugh began to rise in his chest.
He tried to bite it down—but then Garfiel saw the end of the passageway.
The passage ended, and before him opened a square room—the Trial chamber.
A small room that hovered with a ghostly, pale blueness, flickering faintly. With an expression slightly more relaxed than before, Garfiel stepped inside and looked at the stone door at the far end.
The door that was said to open after completing all three Trials. He didn't know whether that was actually true, since it had never opened. Nothing had been told him about what lay inside.
If he simply stopped and waited, the Trial should begin on its own—but.
"—Huh?"
Standing there with his arms crossed, idly glancing around the small room, Garfiel raised an eyebrow. His sharp night-vision had caught an anomaly in the room.
He squinted to get a better look— "—First, confront your own past."
He heard a voice.
The instant it reached him, his vision lurched and his consciousness was swallowed by something hazy.
The past was coming.
--- "I never imagined you would come here again like this. —I am very happy right now."
When his consciousness was guided back to wakefulness, Garfiel found himself standing in a forest.
He turned his head and looked around. The forest that filled his field of vision was familiar—but it was a somewhat "younger" version compared to the one Garfiel remembered. Having been surrounded by this place almost every day, even if only for a few years, the difference was as clear as day to him.
This was the past.
And he was inside the Trial—inside the dream.
He accepted that straightforwardly and checked on his body.
Limbs—present. Head, eyes, nose, ears—all in working order. He opened his mouth and bit down hard; a sharp clicking sound rang out as his teeth met.
Everything was intact. In fact, he felt as though even the injuries he'd sustained before entering the tomb had been healed.
"The reason you're not carrying your real-world injuries in here is that this place only draws in the spirit. If your mind had been injured to a significant degree, those wounds wouldn't heal even inside the dream. That's already been proven—for instance, a person who lost an arm in the real world would still be missing that arm even if brought into this world..."
"Cut the long-winded explanation. You think I'm gonna ignore you just 'cause I'm quiet?"
"I know perfectly well. Still, you really ought to exchange words with me. I'd appreciate it if you could respect my joy at our reunion after so long, wouldn't you?"
With a puppet-like smile pasted on her face, the woman stood directly before Garfiel.
From head to toe clad in black mourning attire, her hair and skin were stark white. Her smile was enchanting enough to captivate any man, yet you could tell just by facing her that there was nothing inside.
Her appearance hadn't changed a single fraction from what lived in Garfiel's memory.
"Even though my arms and legs have grown, you haven't changed a bit, huh."
"Sadly, I am a corpse. After death, I remain in this world as a soul alone. No matter how many years pass, I cannot gain the same experience of time that the living do. Such sentimental talk—hardly like you."
"'Hardly like me'? Only someone who knows me real well gets to say what's 'like me' or not. You and I only met face-to-face once, a long time ago. And we sure as hell didn't have any deep conversation either."
"The 'you' that saw me—perhaps. But whether the time I spent watching you was equal to that... that might be a different matter, no?"
"—Tch."
He knew she wasn't the type of person you could talk circles around.
Garfiel held back the urge to click his tongue and glared at the witch—
Echidna, intending to serve as the Trial's supervisor, had sidled up beside Garfiel, just as she had done before. It wasn't out of any human concern for his pain—rather, it was born from nothing more than a base curiosity, a need not to miss a single detail of the "phenomena" that this scene's unfolding would affect.
Having lost the energy for further conversation, Garfiel looked toward the forest.
If the performance of the past had already begun, then the players would reveal themselves soon enough.
He had no intention whatsoever of indulging the witch by giving her the joy of conversation.
"That's cold."
Echidna accepted even his attitude with apparent pleasure, stroking her own long white hair as she settled beside Garfiel.
As he followed her gestures from the corner of his eye, a change came swiftly.
"—"
Before the scene he already knew so well, Garfiel quietly caught his breath.
The border of the forest—that was the demarcation line of the barrier that separated the inside of the Sanctuary from the outside.
Those trapped within the barrier were said to feel their consciousness waver, their very existence disturbed, simply by approaching it.
Four silhouettes had appeared at a place so close to that border.
One was Lyze, her thin reddish hair grown long, her appearance exactly as she looked in the present.
Another was a girl of about ten years old, with beautiful golden hair fine as silk—Frederica.
And standing across from Lyze and Frederica was a woman with her golden hair gathered into a single braid and her gentle features marked by slightly drooping eyes.
The woman cradled a small child in her arms. A golden-haired child with an ill-tempered look.
"...Mom..."
The instant he saw the woman and realized who the child being held was, a faint voice escaped Garfiel's lips.
The voice calling for his mother, however, did not reach the ears of any of the four figures present.
—Naturally. No one could interfere with the past.
"Even if you reached out, you couldn't touch them. Even if you called out, you wouldn't get a smile in return. I say this myself, but... I sympathize with you being shown such a harsh sight."
It was precisely the kind of sentiment from a witch that he wanted to scream "Don't you say that!" at.
But as the witch gazed at Garfiel's twisted profile, her eyes held no genuine malice. This scene was not something she had prepared out of ill will.
This witch was, in truth, a natural disaster—one who sought nothing more than to observe how those who challenged the Trial would draw out the regrets dwelling in their hearts, and how they would confront them.
"—"
Before Garfiel's trembling eyes, the four of them were engaged in conversation.
Its content, the words, the tone of their voices—none of it reached Garfiel.
Mouths were open, sounds were being woven.
But when those sounds traveled through the air to vibrate his eardrums, they failed to take on any definite meaning.
Lyze wore a look of anguish. Frederica was biting her lip to hold back tears. Their mother looked troubled, her eye corners drooping, while the little Garfiel in her arms smiled innocently.
The reason this heartbreaking scene came without sound was that it was from Garfiel's memory.
The young Garfiel had not retained the exchange in his memory. And so, the words being spoken simply did not reach his ears.
Only fragments—thin, pale, half-remembered.
Because the scene was being reconstructed from those fragments, it played out before him with an intensity that prodded at his heart.
"What do you suppose they're saying? Can you guess?"
"Don't talk to me. —It's probably some boring back-and-forth anyway."
Considering what would happen afterward, the content of their conversation was easy to imagine.
A mother who wanted to leave for the outside world, and Lyze and Frederica trying to hold her back. The young Garfiel couldn't participate in the discussion at all, merely savoring the joy of being held by his mother.
"—Guuh!"
Without warning, an uncontrollable impulse seized him, and Garfiel stepped forward.
In front of Echidna's raised eyebrow, he trampled through the forest until he was right beside the four of them. But even so, they took no notice of him. He stepped in front of his sister, shorter than him, and Lyze, unchanged, and stared directly at his mother and his younger self.
Little Garfiel, held in his mother's arms, smiling innocently.
It infuriated him beyond words. The child who didn't know what was coming, who didn't even have the right to participate in the discussion to keep his mother there, who was just smiling.
Just how much regret, how much despair would that innocent smile at this moment give birth to?
"Gaaah—! Aaah—!!"
He swung his arms up, his extended claws tearing through the air.
He wanted to drive those claws into the face of the grinning toddler, to paint that expression over with despair. He wanted to make that child understand just how foolish a choice he was making.
And yet, the claws he brought down passed right through the child's face—and through the mother's arms holding him.
He stamped the ground and tried to blow them away with the force of his blessing, but nothing happened. His swings grew wilder, his destructive impulse even lashing out at the phantom of his mother, yet nothing changed.
"Why—!? Why do you show me this kind of scene—!!"
He raised his unfulfilled arms and slammed them into the ground.
But the world reconstructed from memory did not transmit his destructive impulse. The world remained firm and unyielding.
Unable to vent his rage, unable to blow away the past, Garfiel turned back with trembling voice and bared his fangs at the witch who watched him.
"It's the same! Nothing's changed! I couldn't stop Mom from leaving, and everything that happened to her after—it's all the same! Are you satisfied with this, huh?!"
"You're free to lash out indiscriminately, but to declare that it's my fault is rather self-serving, don't you think? The past unfolding as a Trial is undoubtedly the result I intended, yes... but knowing this was the kind of place it was, you chose to come back again. If you were hoping something would have changed, then it's not me you should be blaming for the fact that it hasn't. It's you."
"Me... you say?"
"Indeed. The reason this place hasn't changed is because you haven't changed. The reason you can't perceive the past differently than before is because you haven't accepted change itself. Accept that you can change, or choose to remain the same, and the Trial will be passed. In fact, one boy who chose to change was able to overcome his past."
Hearing Echidna mention a success case, Garfiel was struck speechless.
It would have been easy to dismiss it as one of her lies. But if it wasn't a lie—when he considered that possibility, Garfiel knew fear.
Someone had overcome their past.
The Sanctuary had not been liberated. Whoever had overcome the past before had not been able to pass the subsequent Trials. But if they had managed to overcome the past— "No... No way I'm falling for this! The right to take the Trial requires mixed demi-human blood, doesn't it?! There's no one besides me and my sister who could've entered the Sanctuary with blood even more diluted than a half's! In other words! The one with the right is still inside the Sanctuary! And among those who've taken the Trial in the Sanctuary, the one who overcame the past is..."
He was about to say "no one" with certainty—but Garfiel hesitated at the last word.
He had taken the witch's bait and nearly doubted his own reasoning, but he had latched onto a fact that contradicted it. But was that really correct?
The witch's lips curled upward with a hint of pleasure.
It wasn't the satisfaction of having a lie exposed, nor was it satisfaction at Garfiel laying out his argument.
It was more like the expression of someone waiting for something that would pique her curiosity even further.
"Someone who overcame it, you say? And who might that be?"
Echidna's question, delivered in that blunt tone, made Garfiel realize.
What the witch was after. Echidna was waiting to see whether Garfiel could arrive at the answer from the information she had offered—or whether he couldn't.
And Garfiel understood.
Who it was that the witch—Echidna—was talking about.
"Surely not..."
What Garfiel had named was the condition for entering the tomb.
But there were exceptions.
It hadn't been stated by the witch herself—this was merely Garfiel's own deduction.
But perhaps, if one were an "Apostle of the
And Garfiel knew of only one person who fit that description.
After all, hadn't that person said it himself?
—That he had taken the Trial and seen his own past.
"But... he himself said he couldn't overcome the past, that he failed the Trial..."
"Perhaps saying so was meant to avoid creating unnecessary friction? Or perhaps there would have been inconvenient consequences had it become known that he had passed the Trial?"
"Shut up. I'm not talking to you. Don't butt in!"
Echidna's words flickered through his mind, and Garfiel's thoughts grew tangled.
He had, without question, acknowledged that
He remembered Subaru saying he couldn't overcome it. At the time, Garfiel had also been shaken upon learning that Subaru was qualified, and he had cut the conversation short without asking the right questions— "—"
Had Subaru's expression back then been that of a man defeated by a past he couldn't overcome?
It had been the face of someone who regretted failing to reach something—but was it the face of a man whose problems lay within himself? If it had been, Garfiel had seen that face reflected in the water's surface every day.
And Subaru, when he had beaten Garfiel into the ground—that wasn't the face, the voice, or the bearing of a man "held back by the past."
"He... had overcome his past...? The past can be overcome...?"
"If, hypothetically, there was a moment when he lectured you back outside—then wouldn't it make sense that he had something sufficient within himself to be able to do that?"
In his hazy consciousness, Garfiel recalled the exchange of fists with Subaru.
Both of them had been at their limit just to stay conscious. He couldn't piece together every word that had been shouted. No—he mustn't give up. Here and now, he had to gather the fragments he had dropped and carve into himself.
What had been said? What had been screamed?
The past. Standing still. Not changing. The barrier. The Sanctuary. Family.
He had said—what happens to the thing that stands still and can do nothing about it?
He had said—if you want to start, then as long as you feel that way, you're free to start anything, hadn't he?
"—If you insist on going?"
Suddenly, a familiar voice struck Garfiel's ear.
But it was a voice that should not have been heard in this place.
Because it was neither the voice of someone who could interfere with Garfiel here, nor was it the voice of someone Garfiel could interfere with here.
"Yes, I'm going. I know it will trouble Lady Lyze, but..."
"That's no concern of mine. The real issue is how these children feel."
The words exchanged belonged to a familiar family—and an unfamiliar one.
Lyze's mouth moved with a somber expression. The mother's mouth moved. Sound slipped in.
It was the mother's voice—the one that Garfiel had never heard in his memories.
"—"
Garfiel held his breath, his consciousness seized by the scene before him.
The mother gazed at little Garfiel in her arms with tender affection, rocking him gently. Looking up at her, Frederica clutched the hem of her skirt and squeezed out words.
"Mo... Mother... I... I..."
"I'm sorry, Fuu-chan. I'm going to cause you so much worry, aren't I?"
"It's fine. I'll be okay. But Garf... I feel so sorry for him..."
"If I took him along, your mother would be clumsy about it. Gar-chan would have such a hard time. Fuu-chan, you're so dependable even though you're Mother's little girl, so please, take care of things for me."
Even as she was clearly lonely, Frederica offered the words to send her mother off.
This was the first time Garfiel learned that his sister had supported their mother's decision to leave the Sanctuary. Lyze, too, had her arm around Frederica's trembling shoulder, honoring her wishes.
"Gar-chan. Mommy's going now, okay?"
As she called to him, the mother lifted Garfiel up.
The raised Garfiel smiled innocently, oblivious to his mother's resolve. She drew him close and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
To the same spot that now bore Garfiel's white scar.
"I'll definitely bring your father back with me. Until then, please wait for me."
"—!"
Eyes brimming with love, words overflowing with tenderness.
To part with these precious memories, the mother kissed Garfiel over and over, again and again.
Only then did she finally hand little Garfiel over to Lyze.
Lyze and the mother held each other tightly and exchanged a nod. The mother then embraced Frederica, and just as she had with Garfiel, she rained kisses upon her beloved daughter's forehead.
"Ah... Ahhh... Ahhh..."
Watching this, Garfiel found himself on his knees without knowing when he'd fallen.
He didn't understand what he was looking at.
This was a scene he didn't know. A scene he had no memory of seeing.
When he was still small, when he didn't understand anything, when he had confronted the past—what Garfiel had seen was surely a far more hopeless, soul-cutting memory of despair.
Garfiel had nurtured his stubbornness on the belief that even such a memory, even that sense of being abandoned, was something precious.
And now all of that—the facade he had plastered over his days of gloom and misery—was peeling away, crumbling down, being repainted into something entirely different.
What was this memory?
Hadn't his mother abandoned him and his sister, going off in pursuit of her own happiness alone? Hadn't she cut them out of her life because they were in her way, setting off down her own path?
Wasn't this completely backwards?
His mother had abandoned him and his sister. That was exactly why Garfiel had been able to forge his identity as "Garfiel Tinsel" so firmly.
When he realized that was all a misguided illusion, his ironclad defenses crumbled into fragile mud walls, and the world beneath his feet collapsed.
Before Garfiel, who could no longer even stand straight, the farewell of his family in the past reached its conclusion.
Having savored her goodbye to the fullest, the mother gave her final touches to Frederica and Garfiel, entrusted everything to Lyze, and headed out of the forest with nothing but a single bag.
Along the way, she stopped again and again. She turned back, looking at Frederica who waved. She looked at Garfiel, whose hand Lyze waved on his behalf. She waved back.
She took a breath and started walking. She stopped. She turned. She waved.
Over and over and over, the mother walked out of the forest— "Wha—!?"
As he tried to chase after her, rising to his feet, his vision suddenly warped.
The world's outlines blurred—not only because tears were pooling in Garfiel's eyes, but with a far clearer, more definitive reason.
From the edges of his vision, a white light was swallowing the forest whole.
As if witnessing the end of the world—the unintended conclusion of an unfolding story—Garfiel turned to the witch standing behind him and screamed.
"Why!? Why does it end here!? There's still so much important—"
"No, it's over. There's no need to see more. You were the one who acknowledged the dream's end, not I. Congratulations, Garfiel. You have repainted your own past."
"What the—!? Don't screw with me! What I need to change most is what comes after—!"
"There is no need to see what comes next. And even if you imagine what might happen beyond this point, there is no room for you to interfere."
"Ah—"
Was that the witch's answer—that the past could not be changed?
The flush of fury drained from Garfiel's face, and his knees, which had been about to straighten, dropped back to the ground.
He had finally understood his mother's true feelings.
But his mother's fate after leaving this place would not change.
His mother had left the Sanctuary to find the father of Frederica and Garfiel. But that journey would crumble almost as soon as it began—along with her life.
—Had the hopeless memory simply descended into an even more hopeless outcome?
Had the memory merely switched from one where hope was buried under despair to one where despair was buried over hope? What was he supposed to change about himself now?
"Mother loved you, Garf, and she loved me too."
As if struck, Garfiel raised his face and looked forward.
Looking down at him from where he knelt was his sister in her younger form. Her eyes were fixed on him. The past that was invisible, that shouldn't have been able to interfere—was interfering.
"Mother left the Sanctuary for the sake of her family. Do you have a problem with that?"
"You—you're kidding me!? So what if she loved us!? I've just got more useless memories hanging off me now! I—!"
"It was easier to think you weren't loved, wasn't it?"
Young Frederica tossed those words at Garfiel's rebuttal with a dismissive air.
The height difference was literally that of a child and an adult. Yet his sister looked up at him as if their sizes were of no concern, meeting his gaze straight on with an expression that said she was dealing with a troublesome little brother.
"As long as you thought it was one-sided affection, you could justify yourself."
"That's not—!"
"Loving and being loved... once you realize it was real, you can no longer justify staying within the Sanctuary, can you?"
"No—! No, no! You don't know anything! Do you even know what happened to Mom—!?"
"—I imagine you do."
The words struck Garfiel like a physical blow.
Before him, Frederica had erased her expression and was watching him with her feelings in check.
—What had his sister just said?
"I'm sure you know. If Mother left the Sanctuary and met with some misfortune shortly after... you would have been told about it, wouldn't you?"
"Th-then... why...!?"
"You know as well as I that there's no way anyone could have told you, Garf. You're not a little child anymore."
Frederica had known what happened to their mother.
And Garfiel understood the reason why she couldn't tell the young Garfiel.
Who could possibly tell a small boy about his mother's cruel end?
If Garfiel hadn't caught a glimpse of the Trial inside the tomb, he would never have known. The reason he had come to know was because many people had crossed the line of their consideration for him to make sure it happened.
"You did remember that Mother loved you. You always did."
"............"
"That's why you tried to erase it yourself—by wounding the very place where she kissed you, the place where you last touched, and pretending it never existed."
He touched his forehead. The white scar.
This wound did not exist on his younger self's forehead.
This wound had been inflicted right after Garfiel first challenged the Trial in the tomb. Thrown into a state of mental collapse, Garfiel had beaten his head against walls and the ground until it nearly cracked, hurting himself so badly he'd been left with a permanent scar.
This scar—that was the wound from then. And the true reason for it was almost certainly what Frederica had just said.
"The end is coming now."
Frederica's whisper.
Before he knew it, the world of the past had already lost nearly all of its form.
The forest was gone. The mother who had walked away was gone. Lyze, who had stood watching, was gone. The witch who had been observing the situation was nowhere to be seen. Only Garfiel and Frederica—the siblings—remained.
"You can't erase the past just by covering it with scars. That you were loved—that, too."
"What... what should I do?"
Garfiel asked Frederica in a weak voice.
"If Mom's end doesn't change... the outside is just as scary for me as it's always been. Me going out into that world, making Grandma and everyone else go out—it's terrifying."
"You can't even find your own answer without relying on such a small big sister?"
"I know it's pathetic! But you're the only one I can rely on. Come on, tell me... why did you go outside..."
"What do you want to do, Garf?"
She cut him off, tilting her head to ask.
For an instant, Garfiel choked on his words. This wasn't about what he wanted to do. He wanted to know what he should do—what he had to do.
"What do you want to do, Garf?"
Seeing her brother falter, his sister repeated the same question with a look of resignation.
And so, Garfiel took a breath.
"I want to do what's being asked of me."
"Who is asking you to?"
"The people who... who need me. I want to do what they're asking of me."
"Why do you think that way?"
"Because they... reminded me."
Of what, his sister didn't say.
But her golden eyes—the same as his own—were asking exactly that.
"—That Mom loved me."
—The next instant, the dream world shattered into pieces, and the past vanished into the far distance.
--- When Garfiel emerged from the tomb, Subaru thought he looked like a different person—as though some curse had been lifted.
With arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, Subaru had waited for roughly an hour.
While waiting anxiously, the others—Subaru, Emilia, Otto, and Ram—had simply sat in silence, not exchanging glances or words, watching for the result.
"What if he went back on his promise and destroyed the ruins?" Otto had said, apparently trying to lighten the mood with a joke but instead producing a spectacularly tone-deaf remark that earned him a flying kick from Ram—but by and large, the situation had been observed in quiet.
"...Gar-boh."
Lizure, who had joined them, sat with hands clasped together, anxiously casting her gaze toward the tomb. The Lizure present right now was θ, but regardless of which Lizure she was, her concern for Garfiel was the same.
There were two things weighing on her mind: the incident where three people and two beasts had beaten Garfiel to a pulp, and the fact that Garfiel had then resolutely entered the tomb. Both must have given Lizure no small amount of shock.
"—"
Emilia, standing beside Subaru, was also visibly on edge.
In her case, she was naturally curious about Garfiel's outcome, but there was also the matter of her own turn coming up after he emerged.
The argument inside the tomb, and the subsequent fight between Subaru and Garfiel.
Through both of those, something within her must have shifted—though exactly what, Subaru couldn't say. But the worry on her face was clearly more about Garfiel than herself, and there was no trace of her dreading her own Trial. That couldn't be a bad sign.
"Oh!"
At that moment, Otto's voice reached Subaru's ears as the man pointed at the tomb.
Here we go again with another unreadable comment, Subaru thought, grimacing as Ram cracked her knuckles and rose to her feet. But it turned out this time it was Subaru who had jumped to conclusions.
"Gar-boh!"
Lizure leaped up and ran toward the tomb.
Following her gaze, Subaru noticed a figure appearing at the tomb's entrance.
Short golden hair. A white scar on his forehead. Sharp eyes. White canines like blades.
A compact body curled in a slight hunch, projecting a fierce, demonic presence that seemed inversely proportional to his size.
It was Garfiel Tinsel.
"See? He came back just as I said—"
"Byaah!"
Ram's well-timed knee strike caught Otto square in the face, sending him rolling through the grass.
But the battered Otto was forgotten as Subaru and the others rushed forward—toward Garfiel, who had completed his Trial.
Garfiel bounded up the stone steps, and Subaru was at the bottom before he could finish descending. Lizure was already there, standing in front of him, fumbling for words.
"G-Gar-boh. I, well..."
"Don't look so worried, you old hag. Sorry for making you worry."
"Gar-boh."
Garfiel placed his hand on Lizure's small head in his characteristically brusque manner.
Petting his grandmother on the head felt somewhat inappropriate, but given their respective sizes, it was a natural gesture. And besides, if Lizure didn't mind, it would be tasteless for anyone else to point it out.
"Garf. How was it?"
Ram, who had arrived at the top of the stairs a beat later than the others, called out to Garfiel.
She was the one who had given Garfiel the direct impetus to take on the Trial. Her expression—which showed a rare trace of concern that Subaru seldom saw on her face—reflected how much she understood the background circumstances.
At Ram's question, Garfiel paused thoughtfully and let out a low grunt.
"You can't see any visible results, if that's what you mean. Feels about right, though."
"That sounds like some middle schooler bragging about shoplifting, but the fact that you're saying that means... you did it, didn't you?"
"—I think I put a period on things."
Garfiel replied to Subaru that way, then exhaled deeply through his nose.
For a single breath, everyone held theirs. But then a different emotion took hold.
Garfiel had crossed the Trial and settled his past.
That meant one step forward toward liberating the Sanctuary, and proof that the Trial was not some impossible obstacle.
"Then, with that momentum, you could knock out the remaining Trials too—"
"Don't screw with me. The only Trial I'm taking is this one. Doing the rest isn't my job. Got it?"
"That's right. The rest is my work. You shouldn't try to take it, you know."
Garfiel and Emilia shot down Subaru's attempt to pump them up.
Garfiel glared at Emilia, and Emilia met his gaze squarely.
"That witch hasn't changed one bit—still a real piece of work. Watch yourself out there."
"Oh? Are you giving me advice? Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
It was Garfiel's version of encouragement—though the sarcasm was probably intentional too. Emilia took only the encouragement and cheerfully ignored the sarcasm.
Subaru grinned at Garfiel's deflated expression, and Garfiel's gaze shifted to him next.
As Subaru raised an eyebrow, Garfiel scratched his cheek.
"Oh, and... one more thing."
"What's wrong? Fidgeting doesn't suit you, man. You're the type whose 'Hesitation' and 'Thoughtful' stats are completely dead—just keep playing the barbarian build."
"I don't have a damn clue what you're saying but I know you're making fun of me. Let me show you... ah, no, actually, never mind."
He raised his arm as if to strike, then simply lowered it without doing anything.
Subaru tilted his head at Garfiel's suspiciously evasive behavior, but Ram, who seemed to understand everything, simply smiled and gave Garfiel a light poke in the side.
"Garf."
At that, Garfiel exhaled and shook his head in resignation.
"Getting through the Trial inside—honestly, it was probably thanks to you. Thanks."
"...Did you just say thank you?"
"I won't say it twice. But I got back what I needed to remember. So going in there was... worth it. Dammit!"
As he spoke, his embarrassment seemed to mount, and Garfiel's face flushed red with irritation. He thrust a finger at the wide-eyed Subaru.
"Listen up! Sure, I lost, and my view on the Trial has changed. But! That doesn't mean I'm admitting everything you said was right and raising a white flag and baring my belly in surrender! You were the one who ran your mouth about changing this Sanctuary! If that change ends up being painful or cruel for the people inside, I won't show any mercy!"
"O-okay... of course..."
Subaru, overwhelmed by the ferocity of Garfiel's declaration, somehow managed to respond.
There was no absolute guarantee that Garfiel's concerns wouldn't come true. But Subaru could promise to do his best to make things better. He wanted to put at least that into words.
"So I'll be watching you from up close to make sure you don't turn out to be a bunch of empty talkers. —Do it right, 'Boss'!"
"—"
Garfiel slapped Subaru's shoulder hard, then looked him in the eye and declared that.
The unexpected form of address, combined with his demeanor, left Subaru stunned—and slow to react.
In that moment, Garfiel slipped past Subaru, took Lizure with him, and descended the tomb's stone steps, heading downward. Almost as if he was afraid of being seen face-to-face.
"Garfiel's face was like, super red just now."
Had she caught a glimpse of his face as he passed? Emilia said this with a barely suppressed smile.
The fact that she said it meant Subaru hadn't misheard.
"Boss... I'm not even at the top of this group, Emilia is."
"You're the one who beat Garfiel. Since he acknowledged you through a man-to-man clash, that makes you Garfiel's boss. Amazing, Boss!"
Emilia smiled at him with no trace of malice, and Subaru had no idea how to respond.
Poking his side as he stood there looking troubled, Ram shrugged and said, "Accept it."
"He's all worked up himself and doesn't know what to do with the feelings. Just let him be."
"Well, sure, but... I'm way weaker than him, so that part..."
"Setting aside who's better at fighting, Barusu is older, so you can afford to be generous. Besides, Garf is just a kid underneath it all. Don't you feel like you've gained a little brother?"
"Wait a minute."
Ram was gazing at the back of Garfiel's head below with an exasperated expression, and something she had said caught Subaru's attention.
"What?"
"What did you just say?"
"About what?"
"You said Garfiel is younger than me?"
At Subaru's question, Ram nodded in an "ah yes, of course" manner.
"Didn't you know? Garf is younger than Barusu."
"How old?"
"I believe he turns fourteen this year."
"Fourteen!? Fourteen... You're telling me he's a middle schooler!?"
The information from beyond the boundaries of his imagination made Subaru's voice crack in shock.
And somehow, being called "Boss," and Garfiel having been so childishly stubborn—it all started to make a certain kind of sense.
"A full-blown rebellious-phase middle schooler... No wonder it was so hard to deal with him..."
He murmured in a voice even more exhausted than when the fight had ended.