Subaru was struck with terror at the name of a
The only Witches Subaru knew of—aside from
The idea that another Witch existed beyond those was nothing short of a thunderbolt from a clear blue sky.
"So you're saying that this Witch named
If that were the case, the enemy's main force would be the four Archbishops of Sin with two of the dead—plus a Witch added on top of that. The already dire balance of forces would become something outright despairing.
But to Subaru's concern, Wilhelm raised a hand.
"I apologize. My words were insufficient. The existence of the Witch Sphinx was extinguished during the demi-human war. There is no possibility whatsoever that she is involved in this attack."
"The Witch is dead? Are you sure about that? Because my impression of Witches is that faking their death and actually being free to walk around even after dying is kind of their whole deal."
Satella, who appeared whenever Subaru touched upon taboos, was one such example, and Echidna, who had been enjoying her afterlife in the dream castle, was another.
Being told they were dead offered absolutely no guarantee—and that was the essence of what a Witch was.
"I don't know what kind of impression Subaru has of Witches, but while Sphinx was called a Witch, it was only a matter of convenience. The
"You say the individual herself—Wilhelm, did you have direct contact with her?"
"Several times during the civil war. The conclusion of the demi-human war may well have been directly precipitated by taking Sphinx's head. Roswaal, Bordeaux, and my wife were the key figures in that."
"Roswaal!?"
A name Subaru hadn't expected flew out, and his eyes went wide.
At Subaru's reaction, Wilhelm drew his chin back and took on a somewhat distant look.
"I had a relationship with the previous Roswaal. At the time, we weren't exactly close, but... he was someone I owed a debt to."
"The previous Roswaal... ah, right. Roswaal's name is hereditary across generations, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately, the previous Roswaal passed away at an early age. After that, we grew distant, and I only know the current Lord Mathers by sight. Ah, but this is beside the point."
Subaru had been captivated by this unexpected connection, but the real topic was certainly not there.
When Subaru nodded, Wilhelm continued with "That being said—"
"While Sphinx herself is no longer a factor, the curse art being used now is likely of the same lineage. It's a technique for manipulating corpses—back then, they were called corpse soldiers."
"Corpse soldiers... Do they, like, have a weakness?"
"To my knowledge, corpse soldiers are nothing more than a technique that moves dead bodies. It doesn't allow full recreation of the deceased's skills in life. It's a disgrace to the dead, reflecting the practitioner's true character..."
"But 'Eight-Arms' and... that..."
He trailed off.
Wilhelm's wife, who had been turned into a corpse soldier and had death itself desecrated. Even though Wilhelm had logically accepted that reality, Subaru still found it difficult to speak aloud.
Wilhelm's lips twisted bitterly at Subaru's hesitation.
"I appreciate your concern. But this is necessary. —Yes, my wife and
"Then couldn't it be something other than a corpse soldier? If that's the case, then maybe your wife isn't actually dead..."
"My wife is dead. Because I was not strong enough."
It was Subaru who had been weakly grasping at hope.
Wilhelm's quiet voice cut through that sentiment in a single stroke.
And there was nothing Subaru could say to the old swordsman's profile.
"Even at the time, there were exceedingly rare cases that could not be definitively classified as simple corpse soldiers. Whether it was due to compatibility with the technique or some other factor, I cannot say, but... their extraordinary strength should be understood in that context."
"Is there a way to defeat them?"
"Destroy the body beyond all recognition. Alternatively, locate the curse seal somewhere on the body and gouge it out. That will return the corpse soldier to nothing but a corpse. That is what must be done."
Wilhelm's voice, weighed down with conviction, was almost unbearable to hear.
He was conscious of composure, striving to focus on what needed to be done. And yet—the trembling in his voice, the clenched fist, the wide-open eyes—none of it could be hidden in the slightest.
"I apologize for keeping you so long. We cannot keep Lady Crusch waiting any longer. Please, go on ahead."
Wilhelm bowed slightly and indicated the door directly in front of them. The room at the far end of the fourth floor was labeled "Rest Area" on a plate that had since collapsed.
Crusch, who had summoned Subaru, was waiting inside.
Passing by Wilhelm, Subaru made his way toward the door, his footsteps echoing.
Somehow, the distance to the door felt impossibly far. The soles of his shoes seemed to cling to the floor, creating a sensation that his progress was being actively impeded.
Subaru was fully aware that this was his own weakness—his own cowardice.
"—It's me.
He knocked on the door and called out in a voice so quiet he wasn't sure it would carry through. After a brief silence, the door slowly opened from the other side.
The face that appeared was
"Bara-kun..."
His eyes were swollen red from crying, and his chestnut hair was in complete disarray. His body was stained dark red with someone else's blood—clearly, he hadn't had the composure to wipe it off his pale skin. Fresh blood was smeared thickly on his cheeks and neck as well.
The sheer horror of that sight made Subaru's breath catch.
"I heard Crusch-san called for me. So..."
"Mm. She's inside, on the bed. ...Absolutely, under no circumstances, do anything unnecessary."
His voice was rigid, and the latter half oozed with pure hatred.
But that hatred was not directed at Subaru. It was, so to speak, directed outward in every direction—a purposeless fury born of wanting to curse this entire world. That was what gripped Ferris in this moment.
After taking a deep, deep breath, Subaru followed Ferris back inside.
The rest area was not a particularly large room. Two rows of long tables and chairs filled the space, and at the far end was a smaller room partitioned off by a threshold. The bed was inside that.
And on that modest bed, she lay.
"Na... tski-sama?"
Crusch, who was conscious, noticed Subaru enter the room and called his name.
Subaru tried to respond to her voice, but his throat seized. He had steeled himself, composed himself, and intended to say something reassuring—but even something that simple had become impossible.
"I'm sorry for the... wretched state I'm in..."
"...No. No, that's not... It's nothing like that."
Seeing Subaru's stiff expression, Crusch apologized in a feeble voice. Panicked by her anguish, Subaru forced out a voice to smooth things over.
—Crusch, drenched in Capella's blood and afflicted by the curse, was in a terrible state.
Dark, mottled veins bulged across every visible inch of skin on her neck, arms, and legs. Her body beneath the towel blanket and clothing had surely suffered the same damage—it wasn't hard to imagine. The black veins, which clearly weren't carrying blood, pulsed periodically, constricting around Crusch's slender frame like a serpent writhing.
Her pale skin—once without a single blemish—had been grotesquely ravaged.
Naturally, the damage didn't stop below the neck.
An eyepatch covered her left eye, but beneath it, Subaru dared not even imagine.
"Is this... the same dragon blood curse as mine?"
If that were true, then nothing could be more cruel.
It was precisely because Subaru knew Crusch Karsten that his heartache knew no bounds.
He looked down at his own right foot. Like Crusch's skin, black veins spread across it in a mottled pattern. But Subaru's foot, aside from its wretched appearance, had been unaffected. There was no pain, no throbbing—nothing had been imposed upon him.
Crusch, however, was clearly different. She panted in pain, and with each pulse of the blotching, the strain of enduring agony flickered across her face.
"Ferris..."
He turned to the kingdom's foremost healing practitioner, hoping for some solution. But Subaru's haste only served to wound Ferris further—reminding him of his own powerlessness.
Ferris bit his lip, dug his nails into his own arm, and hung his head. He was the one who most deeply understood his inadequacy in this moment, and who suffered most for it.
Given what Subaru knew of their relationship, there was no doubt that Ferris had already exhausted every method he could conceive of before this.
"Crusch-san... why did you... call for me?"
In this painful circumstance, what was it she needed him for?
He couldn't imagine he was capable of anything. Did she have something to say? A demand for vengeance against the Sin Archbishop of "Lust"? Or perhaps a single word of resentment directed at Subaru?
Whether he was cursed at, whether she entrusted him with a grudge—he would bear it all.
At Subaru's question, Crusch opened her mouth with effort.
He leaned close to her lips, straining to catch every faint breath.
And then— "...I'm so glad... you're safe..."
"——"
"That you were under... the same curse... I heard..."
A softness returned to her exhales, as though she had finally found relief. Subaru felt it keenly.
At the same time, he grasped the honest truth lurking in his own heart, and nearly died of shame.
He had wanted to be blamed. That would have been so much easier.
So he had questioned Crusch's nobility, tarnishing the purity of her character. All she had been doing was worrying—genuinely, purely—that Subaru was suffering the same pain she was.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Crusch-san..."
He squeezed the words out through a jumble of emotions—guilt at having doubted her, grief at the fact that she was suffering like this, frustration that he couldn't even take her place.
His hand shot out instinctively and took the hand that Crusch had placed weakly over her stomach. The black veins had no texture to the touch. That the skin felt unchanged beneath such a twisted appearance only made it more heartbreaking. But then— "Hh... ah...?"
"Guh!?!"
A piercing gasp escaped Crusch's lips, and simultaneously, pain rocketed up Subaru's throat.
A searing agony—like gripping red-hot iron—lanced through his entire body, radiating outward from his palm. Reflexively, Subaru released Crusch's hand and stared at his own palm.
A mottled discoloration had appeared on it.
"What... the—!?"
"Let me see, Bara-kun!"
Ferris seized Subaru's hand to examine the blotching. The glow of healing magic enveloped the marks, but there was no sign of the pain receding or the discoloration fading. Instead, however— "Ferris—Crusch-san's hand!"
"Huh...?"
Drawn by Subaru's wide-eyed stare, Ferris looked at Crusch. And those yellow eyes went just as wide as Subaru's had.
The left hand Subaru had been gripping—the back of Crusch's hand had shown a slight, if marginal, reduction in the blotching's spread.
That change, combined with Subaru's glance at his own right hand, sent a single thought racing through his brain.
"Could it be... the curse transferred from Crusch-san's body into mine?"
There was no other way to interpret it. The change in the hands that had touched matched up as a perfect positive and negative. There was no room for doubt—the curse dwelling in Crusch's body had moved into Subaru.
"Th-That can't be right—I don't feel any change at all! I've been touching Crusch-san's body over and over since we got here, and nothing... I haven't...!"
Ferris shook his head at Subaru's hypothesis.
The gesture wasn't born of joy at the possibility of a cure—it was a shake of doubt, questioning whether the theory was flawed. No, his feelings were surely something else entirely.
"I can't make Crusch-san comfortable... I can't do even that..."
"Then let me try again."
Pushing aside the faltering Ferris, Subaru stood before Crusch once more. Crusch wore an expression of confusion, her moistened eye turned toward him as he approached. Behind her eyepatch, Subaru steeled himself to keep his pained expression hidden.
Confirming his resolve, this time he gently touched Crusch's cheek.
"—Guh!"
Immediately, a searing pain drove into Subaru's brain—as though magma were flowing through his veins. The curse that violated Crusch's body poured through his fingertips, scorching his nerves.
"Gaaahhhh!?!"
Unable to endure the excruciating pain, Subaru screamed and threw himself backward. The momentum carried him down, and the hand that had been touching Crusch was wrenched away.
"Ah, hah, hahh..."
His lungs spasmed. His eyeballs twitched.
Like a fish dragged onto land, Subaru gasped, desperately seeking oxygen.
"A-Are you okay, Bara-kun...?"
Seeing that his breathing was beginning to settle, Ferris asked. Enough composure returned for Subaru to confirm the feeling of the hard floor beneath him, and he somehow managed to sit up.
Then, looking at Crusch's face on the bed— "How was it, Ferris? Did it have some effect?"
"Ah..."
Ferris's knees gave out and he collapsed into a sitting position.
It must have been visible to his eyes too. Crusch's cheek, consumed by the curse's blotching—had been marginally rescued from that corruption. If this treatment was possible, then saving Crusch might actually be— "You mustn't, Natsuki-sama..."
Subaru, who had been about to make another attempt, rose partway. But the one who stopped him was Crusch herself.
Unable to grasp the meaning of her words, Subaru started to press for an explanation.
"Don't you notice? Your own hand..."
"—My hand?"
At her words, Subaru looked down at his right hand. And only then did he finally understand the change.
Like his right foot, dark veins now crawled across the skin in a mottled pattern. Up to that point, it was fine. If it were only that much, his resolve to take on Crusch's curse wouldn't have wavered.
But something was clearly wrong.
Compared to the blotching he had absorbed from Crusch, the spread on his own skin was far too vast.
The corruption he had taken from her had been limited to the back of her left hand and her left cheek. The change had been only enough to lighten the black veins that had surfaced.
Yet Subaru's right arm—his right hand, from the elbow to the wrist on the dorsal side—was now entirely covered in blotching. The concentration was, without question, incomparable.
The rate at which the curse was being transferred was nowhere near one-to-one. It wasn't even ten-to-one. It was beyond that scale entirely.
"No, but still..."
Whether that was reason enough to hesitate was another question entirely.
The moment of transfer brought pain. But once the curse had actually been taken into his body, there were no signs of it causing Subaru ongoing suffering.
Compared to the continuous agony Crusch endured, Subaru's pain was momentary. And between a man and a woman, one didn't even need to consider which of them should bear the ugliness of this curse.
If it meant saving Crusch, he didn't care if his right foot and hand turned completely black.
"Natsuki-sama, you mustn't. ...I cannot accept that sentiment of yours."
"Don't say something so stupid. I'm fine—it's just a little rough. Compared to getting a tattoo on a whim and regretting it later, this is a much more dignified way to mark up my body. I can handle the pain. Strange as it is, nothing about this really hurts me. So—"
"And you're certain that won't change in the future? ...Both you and I could end up unable to fight. That, in the current situation, would be catastrophic..."
Crusch's judgment, putting the city and others before herself. It was logically sound—but not everything could be resolved by logic alone.
"Ferris, stop Natsuki-sama..."
"I... I..."
"Please. Natsuki-sama is needed by people other than me right now..."
"If Bara-kun could just hold on... then Crusch-san's suffering—"
Ferris's conflict arose from placing Crusch's wellbeing at the highest priority. No one could blame him for it. No one in this room was wrong.
Being not-wrong was not the same as being right. That was what was wrong.
"You must not be swept away by momentary emotion. Natsuki-sama, please..."
"Crusch-san, even so, I..."
"Didn't you say it yourself? —Leave everything after this to me."
"—!"
Crusch's imploring gaze locked onto Subaru and refused to let go.
Had those words really come from his own mouth? And now, having heard them, Crusch was asking Subaru to make good on that promise.
"Say it to me, too... please..."
"——"
"Leave everything after this to me."
A pained, gentle smile waited for Subaru's words.
He swallowed. Moved his dry tongue. Closed his eyes.
Chided for having lunged at immediate relief without thinking of the future—forced to say what never needed to be said—at the very least— "Crusch-san, get some rest."
"...Natsuki... -sama."
"You can leave everything after this to me."
"...Yes."
He had to play the role he was asked to play, and speak the words she wanted to hear.
Hearing Subaru's answer, Crusch let out a long, relieved breath.
Her eyelids drooped closed without force—the proof that sheer willpower had been the only thing keeping her conscious until now. Her breathing quickly grew shallow, and the battle against the curse's corruption began anew for Crusch.
"Sorry, Ferris. I've got to go, too."
"What... should I do?"
Subaru draped the towel blanket back over Crusch and stood, hearing Ferris's small voice. Seeing Ferris this depleted was a first for Subaru.
Honestly, he wanted to stay by Crusch's side indefinitely.
But the situation—and Ferris's ability—wouldn't permit it.
"You're needed. I'm not telling you to leave the city hall, but if something happens, the wounded will be brought here—I'll arrange it. So I'm counting on you."
"...The person I want to help the most is the one I can't help, though."
"Ferris..."
"Sorry. Stupid thing to say. ...Give us a moment alone, would you?"
Turning his face away, Ferris slumped into a chair beside the bed. Subaru gave his shoulder a light pat and stepped out of the rest area.
In the corridor, Wilhelm stood at attention, just as he had been when Subaru entered.
"Thank you for hearing Crusch-san's feelings."
Wilhelm addressed Subaru as he returned. Either he had known everything that transpired inside, or Subaru's face was simply that easy to read.
"Hearing her feelings—nothing that dignified. I was the one who got lectured. ...What exactly is this body of mine, anyway?"
Taking on Crusch's curse. The blotching itself weakening. And if he reached further back, the Witch Factor, "Return by Death"—everything remained shrouded in ambiguity.
Would there come a day when he could find reasons and resolution for all of it?
"Let's leave Crusch-san in Ferris's care. Once everything's settled, I'd like to try what we just did again."
"Is your right arm all right?"
"It looks terrible, I'll give you that. But if I wear long sleeves and gloves, it'll probably pass. ...If it takes some invisible scars to save one beautiful girl, then I'd say that's a pretty good deal."
The reluctance was real, but so was his honest feeling.
If there was no other solution, he'd take on all of Crusch's curse without hesitation. And if his body ended up blackened because of it, he'd just have to ask
"But all of that is a conversation for after we've gotten past this crisis. Wilhelm, let's head down. They should be discussing the assault on the control tower."
Their forces were probably as strong as they could make them.
What remained was the abilities and compatibility of each Archbishop of Sin, the division of roles, and the timing of execution. There were only about six hours left until the deadline the Witch Cult had demanded.
"Subaru, regarding that matter—I have a request."
"A request?"
As Subaru moved toward the staircase, Wilhelm stopped him. The old swordsman nodded, then glanced at the door behind him—with eyes that conveyed concern for his lady—and said: "If possible, I would like you to recommend that I be assigned the role of subjugating the Archbishop of 'Lust.' I am fully aware of the power of that authority—Regeneration gone haywire—but I humbly request this."
"You mean... avenging Crusch-san?"
"That as well. But more than that, I need to extract information from 'Lust' while she's still alive—what exactly she did to Crusch-san. For that purpose, I would gladly become a demon. I will cut the wretch down with my sword, but before taking her head, I will wring every last answer out of her."
The demonic aura radiating from the Sword Devil hit Subaru like a wave of heat.
Wrath, sword intent—neither could compare to the sheer force of Wilhelm's fighting spirit, now blazing with the desire to avenge his mistress.
"That spirit is admirable, but... what about the corpse soldiers?"
"——"
"They're your wife and people you know, aren't they? No matter what, you're the one who needs to face that resolution, Wilhelm."
"Subaru—isn't Reinhardt coming down below?"
Wilhelm abruptly cut in, sidestepping Subaru's concern.
Subaru grimaced but nodded. Reinhardt's combat power was indispensable to the assault. But the matter of his predecessor—the Sword Saint—was a sticking point for him as well.
"I would ask that you not reveal the identity of the corpse soldiers to Reinhardt."
"...Huh?"
Subaru faltered, unable to immediately grasp the meaning behind the request.
"You mean... don't tell Reinhardt about your wife?"
"Yes, precisely. I don't want Reinhardt—my grandson—to meet his deceased grandmother. He would surely blame himself. Because of me, no less."
"Because of you? That's—"
Subaru wanted to say "nonsense," but the words wouldn't come lightly.
This morning's incident came to mind—Heinkel's outburst that had shattered the warmth of their gathering.
It lacked credibility. But it also hadn't been denied.
Wilhelm had accused Reinhardt of being the reason his wife died. That unbelievable past had gone unrefuted.
"Subaru—are you aware of what makes the 'Blessing of the Sword Saint' special?"
"Honestly, there's more I don't know than what I do. My understanding is basically that it's a blessing that everyone who was called 'Sword Saint' possessed, and that having it makes you incredibly strong—something along those lines."
"Your understanding is largely correct. However, if there is one aspect that sets the Blessing of the Sword Saint apart from other blessings... it is that it is inherited."
"It's... inherited?"
Wilhelm nodded at Subaru's quiet exhalation.
The old swordsman kept his eyes closed, as if recalling a painful memory.
"That blessing has been passed down in an unbroken line since the era of the first Sword Saint,
"So it's a blessing passed down through the family... Right, so that's how it worked. Your wife passed, and the blessing went to Reinhardt."
As his understanding caught up and he moved toward acceptance, something snagged in Subaru's mind.
The previous Sword Saint had been defeated by the
But that chain of events didn't align with this morning's argument within House Astrea.
Wilhelm's anguish, Heinkel's mockery, Reinhardt's silence—they all seemed to be obstructing that legitimate inheritance.
And the answer was— "It was in the middle of the battle against the White Whale."
"Wilhelm..."
"—Reinhardt inherited the blessing while my wife was away on the Great Crusade. In the midst of battle, my wife was abandoned by the Sword God, and I was left as the only woman who could keep her company."
—That was the truth behind the fracture of House Astrea.
The great expedition to slay the White Whale—and in the very heart of that battle, the blessing had passed to the next generation. And the battlefield had been left with a former Sword Saint who had lost her blessing.
Then the former Sword Saint had become a consort, fought against magical beasts to protect her men—and vanished without a trace.
"The one who took the sword from my wife was none other than me. I was the one who made a woman loved by the Sword God abandon the blade and become nothing more than a woman. And that is what brought about my wife's end."
"———"
"The Sword God never forgave a wife who had betrayed him. My wife, who had been stripped of her blessing on the battlefield and had no choice but to rely on the very sword she had discarded—what must she have felt? I couldn't accept that. I confronted Reinhardt, who carried the blessing. It's the truth. My grandmother had died, and my grandson had just been burdened with an impossible fate—but in my foolishness, I couldn't forgive him. I... regret it."
The regret Wilhelm had confided to Subaru last night—that was the mistake.
He had known it wasn't Reinhardt's fault, and yet in his grief over his wife's death, Wilhelm couldn't accept it. The result was the split in House Astrea.
"I don't want to repeat that. Reinhardt bears no responsibility for my wife's death. My grandson has no reason to be blamed."
So he would keep Reinhardt in the dark and settle this on his own.
Subaru understood that sentiment with painful clarity. If it were possible, Subaru would want that too. But Wilhelm was already carrying far, far too much.
"Crusch-san's curse, your wife, the corpse soldiers... you'll be crushed, Wilhelm. And even if you hide the truth about the corpse soldiers, where they'll show up—"
"That is entirely unnecessary worry, Subaru."
"Huh...?"
As Subaru was about to point out how uncertain that was, Wilhelm shook his head.
And then the Sword Devil twisted his expression into something almost ghastly, and said: "—It would be impossible for my wife not to come to see me."