"Rigel. — It's
—That soul's cry, shrieked with desperate urgency,
It was a heartfelt, gut-wrenching appeal—earnest and pleading, the kind that would pierce any listener's chest. Surely the *Gourmet* Rai Batenkights, who cherished the fierce extremes of human devotion and the bittersweet edge of longing, would have gladly lent an ear to such a wish, licking his lips as he obliged.
"But it wasn't Rai who was here. It was us."
Rai the *Gourmet*, Roy the *Glutton*—twins who shared the same *Gluttony*
What each valued in a meal was completely different, despite sharing the same blood.
But Roy had never lamented that difference. If anything, he was grateful they didn't have to fight over the same prey. Rui, who couldn't freely choose his own prey and could only pilfer from the *Soul Stomach*, seemed to find that rather vexing, but— "It can't be helped, can't be helped. Sure, we love our little sister too. But, but you see? Eating is something you do for yourself. We haven't the finesse to go filling someone else's stomach."
So even when he felt pity for his starving sister, it was the hunger of a stranger close at hand.
When he learned that Rai had scattered like sand in the tower, that too was a stranger's failed meal.
He didn't feel the slightest satisfaction—*serves him right*—nor did he grieve over how that meal ended. The only thought that crossed his mind was a single sentiment: *what a waste.* "Ah, from Rai's *Gourmet* perspective, we who were always starving would be failed dropouts, wouldn't we... But we *Gluttons*? We could've eaten Rai, you know."
Strangely, upon realizing he'd been excluding both Rai and Rui from the menu, Roy found it amusing that his sense of familial love wasn't as negligible as he'd thought. He, the *Glutton* who indiscriminately devoured everything in sight, had somehow been selective about his plate.
"Ah, we really missed our chance there."
A pity, but Rai was dead. As for Rui—he hadn't felt her presence in the *Soul Stomach* since their time in that tower of sand, and he had no idea what had become of her. —Truly, genuinely unfortunate. If he could have touched his sister's soul again, he would have gnawed it right up.
"After all, we're *Gluttons*."
No matter how ugly or repulsive something was, if he wanted to eat it, he couldn't resist reaching for it.
What the *Gourmet* wouldn't deign to look at, what the *Surfeit* would push aside from their plate—he'd devour it all without leaving a crumb.
—More than anything, giving up on something he once desired to eat? Unthinkable.
"—!!"
Shouting through the dust, Aldebaran was in a desperate situation—or rather, he'd been put in precisely the opposite state, and yet somehow that had driven him into a corner. There, he recalled Roy's existence and tried to flip the board by making him eat a *name*. Impressive, the sharpness of that instinct.
The curse mark, carved to keep him obedient and drag him along—Aldebaran was desperately calling to Roy, activating it. An impossible pain lacerated Roy's soul like being scorched by flames he couldn't touch, and his body bounced against the ground in spasms. It was abuse of the soul: *if you want this agony to stop, obey.* "I know, I know, I *know*—I know, I know, I *know*, even if I know, what else can I do but *know*?! Precisely because I know! Binge! Gorge!"
He understood what Roy wanted to say. He understood what Roy wanted him to do. He understood that he was cornered.
Honestly, even with his soul being burned like this, Roy was grateful to Aldebaran. —Thanks to being broken out of the prison tower, he'd gotten a meal opportunity that might never have come again. He didn't like eating on someone else's orders, but not being picky about what he consumed was Roy's strong suit, so it had been convenient for Aldebaran too.
"But you see, I'd hate for you to get the wrong idea."
He was grateful, so he was willing to play along. —But that was only within the range Roy was willing to concede. Anything beyond that? Roy would do as he pleased.
For instance— "—Found you."
His dietary habit was absolute: anyone he desired to eat—even at the cost of his own life—he would devour.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Rigel. — It's Natsuki Rigel!!"
That blood-curdling scream reached even the ears of the *Witch of Melancholy*.
The blast wave and crushing pressure that surged from beyond her consciousness had wrought devastating damage across the battlefield. She'd barely managed to pull herself upright after being battered by shockwaves that leveled the earth, when— *"—Petra! Are you alright?! Damn it, what the hell was that?! Is everyone okay?!"* Even though a shrill, piercing ringing had taken hold inside her skull, Imaginary Subaru's voice—concerned for her wellbeing—reached her clearly, bypassing her eardrums entirely. It was the confusion and worry of that *Subaru*, the care he showed for their fallen comrades, that arrived at the same moment as Al's opening scream.
"——"
Spitting out the sand that had filled her mouth amid the swirling dust clouds, the *Witch of Melancholy* registered two surprises within Al's cry, carried through the gale.
One was how Al had chosen to use the authority of *Gluttony* to turn the situation around. The other was the name Al had shouted as his true identity.
Natsuki Rigel. —That name was unmistakably connected to
"If he was from another world like Subaru, it was obvious Aldebaran was using a fake name... But the name he reveals is *Natsuki Rigel*? That's a bizarre coincidence."
Rigel was the name of a star, and Natsuki was the same family name as Subaru's. —Could it be that the conditions for being summoned to this world were the surname Natsuki plus a star name?
*"That guy..."* Naturally, *Subaru* also furrowed his brow at the same question as the *Witch of Melancholy*.
Al was shrouded in mystery. The *Witches of Melancholy* had faced him knowing he was prepared to make enemies of the entire world, yet they still knew nothing of his true intentions. This was yet another piece of evidence.
However— "—I'm sorry. I've already made my choice."
The *Witch of Melancholy* was not so childish as to prioritize an unsolvable mystery over the immediate crisis.
What mattered most right now was not the new enigma Al had presented, but the countermeasure against Al himself—someone who, even after playing nearly every card in his hand, still possessed the means to overturn the board.
Al's strategy of forcing someone to eat his *name* was, if executed, impossible to counter. —The effectiveness of it had already been proven, with
"So I'm going to do it, Subaru."
When the *Witch of Melancholy* murmured those words, *Subaru* was standing not at her side, but before her. Not floating—he stood firmly on the ground, facing her head-on.
*"——"* Looking straight into those dark eyes, the *Witch of Melancholy* felt a strange swell of emotion.
The *Subaru* standing here was, no matter how you looked at it, nothing more than an illusion shaped by her own desires. He was certainly not the real Natsuki Subaru. From the outside, it must have looked like the most absurd dream—and for the *Witch of Melancholy*, the most convenient delusion possible.
"And yet, you won't marry me, will you?"
*"Petra, I..."* "Liar, liar. Just a little witch joke to mess with you."
She stuck her tongue out at *Subaru*, apologizing for having troubled him. The fact that *Subaru* here wouldn't obey her every whim—the *Witch of Melancholy* took that as a testament to the nobility of her feelings, and was almost proud of it.
Having the person you love behave exactly as you wanted was wonderful, but complicated.
"Because I fell in love with the Subaru who told me I was an idiot."
*"...Well, that's truly an honor. I'm the most fortunate, colossal idiot around."* "—That's absolutely true."
At *Subaru's* response to her confession, the corners of the *Witch of Melancholy's* lips curved upward. Then, with a spin, the *Witch of Melancholy* turned her back to *Subaru*.
After a beat—a moment of deliberation or hesitation—*Subaru's* arms came around her from behind.
This was a perfect score, meeting both expectation and hope. Besides, even if it had been the real Subaru and not an illusion, he would have done the same thing, so it didn't affect the *Witch of Melancholy's* grading.
So, held in those arms— "—Found you."
That thick, syrupy voice spoke from close behind, and from beyond the plumes of smoke, a threat was closing in.
It was the *Gluttony* Sin Archbishop, Roy Alphard—who had come charging at full speed, using the white light she had raised toward the sky as his beacon.
Roy bared his fangs as his gaze crossed with the *Witch of Melancholy's*.
And then— "—It's Petra Baumann."
With her finger still pointed at the sky, the *Witch of Melancholy* declared her name.
The name shuffle the *Aldebaransters* had conducted as a countermeasure against *Gluttony*—under the authority of their lord Roswaal, it had been formally registered as an officially binding change of name. Among the freedom to choose their own names, the *Witch of Melancholy* had taken the family name of the person she admired most.
But revealing her post-renaming name now was none other than her trump card.
*"—Petra."* *Subaru's* arms, unable to truly touch her, nonetheless tightened around her. Hearing him call her name, the *Witch of Melancholy* layered her own translucent hand over those intangible arms, and smiled.
Smiling, the maiden who had sacrificed everything to become the *Witch of Melancholy* declared: "—Subaru, I love you."
△▼△▼△▼△ Placed upon his tongue, the *Erosion* activated—the instant he devoured it, a sensation of fulfillment flooded his entire body, sending shivers through every nerve.
"~!!"
That peak sensation of *Erosion*—even for Roy, who had devoured countless *names* and *memories*, gorging on lives to his heart's content—was the irreplaceable thrill of *Gluttony* that nothing else could replicate.
Hunger, hunger, *ravenous* hunger—that was the *raison d'être* of *Gluttony*. —In the instant he could delude himself that even a fragment of that void had been filled, the inexhaustible satisfaction of being alive surged through him.
It was precisely— "—*Exquisite!*"
The taste of the *Witch* who had kept her promise made Roy lick his lips, drunk on the extremity of love.
A feeling beyond what he'd expected, an intensity beyond what he'd feared, a purity beyond what he'd hoped for—captured by it all, Roy immersed himself in the mounting fullness, savoring what the true *Erosion* really was.
This, this, *this*—this was the flavor he had lived for.
—Even if the price of breaking the curse mark meant his soul would be burned, he had no regrets about this *Erosion*.
The flood of *memories* that poured in made it clear why Rui had craved this. But unlike his sister, the thing that had tasted most sweetly to Roy's palate was the girl's prayer.
The *Witch*, who had loved just this one dish so deeply, had far surpassed his expectations before he'd even taken the first bite.
Therefore, the *Gluttony* Sin Archbishop, Roy Alphard, grinned.
Burned by the blue flames—the proof of having broken the curse mark—he grinned.
"—It's been a real treat!"
And, in the instant his soul was consumed entirely by those blue flames— "—That's as far as you go."
Without warning, the crimson fire that had erupted on the battlefield flashed down upon those blue flames, mercilessly.
△▼△▼△▼△ —When one spoke of *Sword Saint*
But those who truly understood the extent of Reinhard's absurdity also knew that the multitude of blessings he possessed was what earned him the title of the strongest *Sword Saint* in history.
In a past battle against the *Greed* Sin Archbishop,
A being of overwhelming power, against whom taking a life even once was already nearly impossible, yet who could still revive after death—the *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix* was nothing short of a cheat.
But had Natsuki Subaru known the true, absurd extent of the *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix*, his evaluation would have been overturned entirely.
"—*The Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix.*"
In his battle against the *Greed* Sin Archbishop, this blessing had already been used once, so technically it was a newly granted second *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix*. But the phenomenon that occurred was identical, and there was no need to distinguish between them.
What mattered was that when this blessing activated, the lost life of its bearer—Reinhard van Astrea—was revived, and in that moment, all wounds, including fatal ones, were fully healed.
Therefore, at this moment, every injury Reinhard had sustained during his three-day-and-night battle against the remnant of the *Witch of Envy*—a battle fought to prevent the destruction of the world at the last possible second—was wiped clean.
That included the devastating wounds to both arms, inflicted by Aldebaran in coordination with the *Divine Dragon*, that had rendered them useless, and even the exhaustion of fighting without sleep—all of it was incinerated by the flames of vitality.
That alone would have been sufficient proof of the *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix's* absurd power, but the true value of Reinhard relying on this blessing lay in what came next.
The threat of the *Witch of Envy*, resurrected in the present age through some mechanism Aldebaran had orchestrated—just as it had appeared, it vanished in an instant. At that moment, Reinhard recognized the end of that battle, and—the decision to inflict a fatal wound upon himself immediately.
If his sole purpose had been to heal his own injuries, Reinhard would never have deliberately wounded himself. He would simply have waited for the natural recovery.
In other words, what Reinhard sought from the *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix* was not healing—but rather, the blessing's other effect. That was to— "——"
—Clad in crimson fire, in an instant, Reinhard was reborn in the very center of the battlefield.
This was the other, equally absurd power of the *Blessing of the Immortal Phoenix*—the flames of resurrection, capable of reviving a dead bearer at their desired location.
In his battle against Regulus Corneas, the power had revived him before Natsuki Subaru's eyes. But as for where Reinhard was reborn this time—it need not be said.
It was at his master's side—right where he'd been cleaning up after Aldebaran.
"——"
Emerging from the swirling flames onto the battlefield, Reinhard took in the scene—that this was a space ravaged by cataclysmic forces—in a single instant.
Even the unflappable Reinhard could not suppress his astonishment at the sight—but— "Reinhard!"
At the sudden call, Reinhard turned to see his delicate, resolute friend—and within that friend's arms, his master,
He instantly recognized the gravity of the situation and moved to rush to his master's side. Felt, cradled in
"——"
Before Reinhard could take a step, that faint, fragile voice spoke.
Felt, bathed in the faint glow emanating from Ferris within the dust—receiving concentrated healing light upon her head—slowly raised her face. Her gaze blurred and refocused several times, but those crimson eyes fixed upon her First Knight.
And then, gathering every last shred of strength in her body, she formed a single sentence.
It was— "—The rest... is yours."
With those words, Reinhard understood that what he needed to do was not worry about his master.
His master was strong. Stronger, even, than Reinhard himself.
Therefore— "—That's as far as you go."
Entrusting his master to his friend, having received her push to act, Reinhard set off across the battlefield.
In an instant, he mapped the positions of every presence scattered across the zone, identified the enemy he needed to dispatch, and plunged toward Roy Alphard, who was wrapped in blue flame. A single flash erased Roy Alphard from existence.
"—It's been a real treat!"
What burned Roy Alphard as he grinned was the undying blue flame, ignited by his own soul as its kindling. And so, to spare him a prolonged death, Reinhard delivered the mercy of a clean strike.
Then— "—Sir Aldebaran. This time, I will stop you."
Launching from the ground, Reinhard flew toward Aldebaran amid the dust. It was a movement of such transcendent speed that it seemed to crush space itself—even without borrowing the power of *Compression*.
Between Reinhard and Aldebaran, a girl threw herself forward with arms spread wide. The red-haired girl had moved at maximum speed to shield Aldebaran. A single strike—too swift to even permit a reaction—Reinhard's hand chopped into the side of her neck, harvesting her consciousness in an instant.
And then, leaving Aldebaran defenseless, Reinhard drew back his arm once more— "—That is my role."
—In a flash, the *Sword Saint's* full power struck Aldebaran through the torso.
△▼△▼△▼△ In the distance, beyond the dust, the blue flame scattered. And in the very next instant, Aldebaran saw the thin, falling back of Yae collapsing before his eyes.
He reached out instinctively—what impulse drove that gesture? Regardless, Aldebaran's hand couldn't reach her. It never could.
And before he could even blink, a white flash swept across Aldebaran's torso— "—Ooh."
It happened. Without question, struck by a single hand-chop above the waist, Aldebaran was cleaved in two.
But the instant he was split in two, regeneration began—with the momentum of a video rewinding, Aldebaran's flesh restored itself, his severed torso mending instantly.
This was the uncanny magic of human bisection made possible by the extraordinary potency of the *Blue* healing magic cast upon Aldebaran, combined with the razor-sharp edge of the *Sword Saint's* hand-chop, which surpassed any named blade.
But— "I ain't dying...!"
Was that plea one of affirmation or denial?
Reinhard's strike—yes, *Reinhard's*. The very Reinhard who should have been neutralized by having the *Witch of Envy* called upon him, yet who appeared anyway, and unleashed a hand-chop without holding back. And yet, he did not die.
Having cleaved him through the torso, Reinhard had certainly intended to kill. But the *Blue* healing arts had surpassed even the *Sword Saint's* killing intent, preventing the authority from activating.
"——"
Ignoring pain so brief it might not have existed at all, Aldebaran thought.
Reinhard is here. This is bad. This is dire. Everything is falling apart. And if his presence here wasn't because the world had been abandoned, then it meant the *Witch of Envy* had withdrawn.
And if the *Witch of Envy* had withdrawn, it could only mean she no longer had reason to silence him. —Which meant that Roy had broken the curse mark's vow and used his authority on the *Witch of Melancholy*. Knowing full well the penalty for doing so was death.
The Sin Archbishop had thrown away his own life as spite for being forced into servitude. One thing was certain—Aldebaran had, through his own actions, severed the last possibility of breaking through this situation.
"—!"
The possibility of *Gluttony* slipped through his fingers.
Acknowledging that fact, Aldebaran ground his teeth and pushed his thoughts forward, resolving to pour every remaining action into breaking the situation.
Breathing, pulse, every bead of sweat dripping from a single fingertip—no waste whatsoever would be tolerated.
Casting that iron resolve upon his own soul, Aldebaran scooped up the falling Yae. —Scooped up Yae?
"—Huh?"
He had just decided what he needed to do. He had just steeled himself to spend every last fraction of a moment navigating this crisis.
So why—why did he reach out and catch Yae?
She had no consciousness, and the possibility that she was simply performing her signature act of playing dead was zero. Holding Yae up would not turn the tide.
And yet, why did Aldebaran— "You already know. —It's over."
That voice—Reinhard's, far too hale for someone who had just fought the *Witch of Envy* to the death—addressed Aldebaran's shock-frozen form.
It's over. Give up. Reinhard said it so simply.
Said it, and meant it.
"I'm sure even the *Sword Saint* carries his share of burdens... but I didn't start this with a half-assed resolve either, you know."
"——"
"Not yet. Not yet! You think I'm going to give up just because of this?!"
Blustering with defiance, Aldebaran glared at Reinhard.
He wanted to overpower his opponent with sheer force of will, to seize at least one advantage. But in response to Aldebaran's ferocity, Reinhard raised the hand that had delivered the chop.
The *Sword Saint's* hand-chop—the same one that had just cleaved Aldebaran in two—was gripping something.
A black sphere, woven by magic, that should not have been there.
"Even this...?"
Aldebaran's eyes went wide, his jaw locked in disbelief, as he understood at last: the *Sword Saint's* flash had not been aimed at his life, but had been, quite literally, to crack him open.
Reinhard had done it on purpose. —Trusting in the power of *Blue*, he had split Aldebaran open, literally and figuratively.
He'd opened Aldebaran up and extracted what was inside.
The thing that was supposed to be discarded into the Great Mogarade—the hole that led to the far end of the world— "But it won't come out!!"
The impact couldn't be extracted. Even so, initiative was still his.
A forbidden art the *Witches* had devised, designed to seal away the power granted by the Witch Factor. Even with Reinhard's monstrous strength, even if it were the breath of the *Dragon* that could tear the world apart—it could not be broken.
And no matter what happened, Aldebaran would never— "No, the one sealed inside there is Subaru, isn't it? —In that case, it comes out."
In an instant, the atmosphere trembled with an unusual torrent of power, and the world itself shuddered.
The drawing of that sword was so monumental that the world could not ignore it.
That was— "—*Dragon Sword* Reid."
An impossible flash of light cleaved the small magical orb in the *Sword Saint's* hand.
△▼△▼△▼△ *'—No one can beat the you I created.'* The *Witch* who had named Aldebaran "the Following Star" and set everything in motion had said that.
*'—Look and see. Another victory for me.'* The *Sun Princess* who had given Aldebaran a meaning beyond "the Following Star" had said that.
"——"
Foolish, powerless Aldebaran had lost both of them, and despite possessing the authority that could correct his wrong choices, he had ultimately continued choosing the most half-hearted path.
He would not let the *Witch* who would end the world be born. —Every step had been for that purpose.
He had received the *Witch's* teachings and tried to kill the *Witch* as she wished. —He had failed.
He had met Priscilla and tried to kill the *Witch* by making her queen. —He had failed.
He had returned to basics and tried to kill the *Witch* by eliminating Natsuki Subaru. —He had failed.
"—Ah."
Blazing light poured forth, searing his eyes even through the iron helm. Aldebaran witnessed the forced miracle that had unfolded before him—the result of that overwhelming power.
An event born of extraordinary power had been severed and sealed by equally extraordinary power. And when that seal was undone, the only thing Aldebaran could do was clutch his thin body with a grip so tight, so tight, like a child throwing a tantrum.
And then— "—!"
A faint breath—sound that should not have been audible—scraped at Aldebaran's consciousness.
It came from behind—from the silver-haired girl who had been fighting against the surging floodwaters, unleashing tremendous cold to prevent the battlefield from being swallowed by the torrent.
If that had been a groan of despair from being overwhelmed by the water, he could have endured it.
If it had been a sigh of relief at Reinhard's arrival, he could have endured it.
If it had been a sound of satisfaction at seeing the detestable Aldebaran cornered, he could have endured it.
But it was none of those. —Her dark purple eyes were fixed on a single person.
Aldebaran was never reflected in her gaze.
"—NATSUKI SUBARUUUUU!!"
He roared. He screamed. He shrieked.
In a voice so raw it could have drawn blood, Aldebaran screamed that name.
What burst from within the light was a black-haired boy clutching a Great Spirit in a dress. That unmistakable figure, propelled by the momentum of his release from the black sphere, landed on one knee upon the ground.
And the very first thing from his opened lips was a cry: "—REM!!"
As if answering that voice, the sound of chains tore through Aldebaran's eardrums.
△▼△▼△▼△ —Rem loves Natsuki Subaru.
This was an unshakeable truth—one that even the Rem before she had recovered her *memories* would have reluctantly admitted.
In truth, whether she had her *memories* or not, Rem being drawn to Subaru was an inevitability. Honestly, she wondered what she had been holding back for.
"No, that's not quite right. That sounds a bit too... well-adjusted. Besides, wouldn't it sound like I'd have fallen for him even if he hadn't done anything for me?"
Rem believed her feelings weren't that convenient.
Rather, she saw herself as a difficult, mistrustful woman who didn't open her heart easily. Even she was terrified by how unapproachable she could be.
She was nothing like the straightforward and compassionate
Yes—the *original* Rem was prickly, ill-tempered, and plain.
Her world was narrow and small, and she barely had the energy to guard the limited sanctum she called her own, let alone show the kind of consideration for others that seemed worlds away. —And yet, Natsuki Subaru had barged in.
He'd barged in, trampled through, pulled away, been dragged out—and Rem had fallen head over heels for him.
And those who would follow that path, those who would follow that trajectory—there would only be more, and more still.
"But even so, the fact that I was the first one to feel that way about Subaru hasn't changed."
The first person to recognize Natsuki Subaru's worth—was Rem.
"The mansion, the royal capital, the great tree of
The road Rem had walked with Natsuki Subaru before she lost her *memories*—when she had loved him.
"The jungle, the Castle Town, the Imperial Capital, linked dragon carriages."
The road Rem had walked with Natsuki Subaru after she lost her *memories*—when she had begun to love him again.
"Until now, and now, and from here on."
The road Rem would continue walking with Natsuki Subaru, now that she had recovered her *memories* and fallen in love with him all over again.
To sum all of that up in a single word—*love*—was crude, and Rem didn't need Yae to tell her that. Even she understood.
And yet, if asked what the driving force was that compelled her forward, that made her certain she would never regret it no matter what—she still couldn't think of anything other than *love*.
Because of love, Rem can trust Natsuki Subaru.
Because of love, Rem can give everything for Natsuki Subaru.
Because of love, Rem can wish for the same future as Natsuki Subaru.
*'Rem-nee-sama, just one question, please.'* That was an exchange she'd had with another girl who loved Natsuki Subaru just as she did, before heading into battle.
That girl, too, had met Natsuki Subaru and realized she was someone who had strayed from the *original*. She considered that a happiness, and had decided to walk alongside him on the thorny road ahead.
Rem knew that those eyes were looking straight at someone other than her—and yet, she couldn't help but wish for those eyes of love to turn her way.
*'Rem-nee-sama, if it's to help Subaru... can you do anything?'* Later, Rem would think about it.
How much courage had it taken to ask that question?
How much careful thought had gone into the words she'd prepared to follow?
And if Rem had given an answer that fell short of her expectations—how much resolve and idealism had that girl been prepared to carry, walking that road alone?
"Of course I can. —I am Subaru-kun's Rem."
To be able to answer without hesitation—that was a pride Rem would trade for nothing.
If anything, it was a contest of how strongly they each loved Natsuki Subaru. And it was a secret oath that she absolutely could not entrust to Emilia alone—the one other person who harbored feelings for him.
What would happen if she fulfilled that oath, Rem didn't truly know.
What she did know was that it would be a help to Natsuki Subaru—no, the other way around. That she could become the first of many feelings that that kind young man would carry.
To hope for anything beyond that would be greed. But having grown greedy now that her *memories* had returned, she knew it was greedy—and still, she wished for just a little more.
For instance, that when the boy who had been pushed forward by Rem and the others walked that path, he would think of Rem and that girl's devotion, and in his chest, a wave larger than mere ripples—even just a little—would rise.
That was the extent of Rem's— "—REM!!"
The instant she glimpsed his figure appearing beyond the white light, Rem's tender sentimentality shattered.
In the next moment, swept away by the unstoppable torrent of emotion surging from within her, Rem felt an impulse—to cast everything aside and run into his arms. She held back.
But then, the ground beneath her boots exploded upward, and rising rock walls threatened to engulf her vision—until the lingering, flame-wreathed flash of the *Sword Saint's* blade swept them aside, clearing the path.
Straight ahead, in a direct line, Rem's gaze locked with those of the beloved boy.
"——"
Those desperate, yet still unable to fully shed their kindness—his dark eyes met hers.
Swallowing a thousand words she wanted to say, ten thousand feelings she wanted to convey, a hundred million prayers she wanted to offer, Rem spoke: "Let me... let this Rem love you again, all over again."
In that instant, she swung with every ounce of her strength. —The iron ball soared straight, in a perfect line, across the sky.
△▼△▼△▼△ —The sound of chains.
In that moment—the bloodcurdling scream he had just unleashed, the upheaval of earth caused by his greatest magic cast in blind desperation, the supreme flash of the *Sword Saint's* blade that had cleaved the frozen atmosphere and dispelled the cataclysm itself, the man who had appeared clutching a Great Spirit and seemed to be using the authority of *Greed* to assess the situation, the way he had instinctively held tighter the woman's body that radiated warmth in his arms—none of it, absolutely none of it, mattered to Aldebaran.
He simply, desperately reached out. —No. He tried to reach out. He couldn't.
His right arm was wrapped around the woman who had betrayed him. His left arm, lost long ago, had been left behind in that era along with the *Witch's* expectations. Aldebaran could not reach out.
Instead— "—Al."
The man who had drawn every eye on the battlefield looked at him, and called his name.
The emotion held in those dark eyes—the color of that Natsuki Subaru, who seemed to want to save even someone like Aldebaran if he could—was the thing that struck the hardest, the deepest, the most— "I hate you, you son of a bi—"
—The sound of chains.
△▼△▼△▼△ —I love you.