The mansion belonging to Miccrotof MacMahon, a member of the Council of Wise Men in the nobility quarter of the royal capital Lugnica, had a subdued exterior befitting its famously frugal owner.
While most nobles favored galas and banquets, holding such events frequently to flaunt their influence, MacMahon had chosen none of those typical noble displays. From his youth, this venerable sage had distinguished himself as a civil official of the kingdom, and his abilities had been recognized time and again. He had devoted himself to serving the kingdom with tireless dedication, never taking a wife, as though pledging his entire life to the realm.
That was why the MacMahon estate in the nobility quarter had never once been decorated with anything eye-catching. At least, that had been the case up until today.
The ghastly sight of countless lives severed cruelly, their scattered remains giving off the stench of blood and death—that was what had brought an end to Miccrotof MacMahon's life as well. Until this very moment.
"—"
He had been invited here, yet had not encountered a single living soul throughout the McMahon estate. Thirteen dead—likely the mansion's guards and servants—each cut down in a single blow, their lives taken. Having witnessed them all, Subaru had finally arrived at this innermost room.
Judging from the arranged desk and bookshelves, this was probably MacMahon's office.
This was the historic place where the venerable elder had spent his days worrying over the kingdom's future, his brilliant mind tormented and put to work on countless problems. Against the far wall, the said MacMahon was slumped.
Legs splayed out, back resting against the wall—he looked like a child who had collapsed after playing too hard, and that description wasn't far off the mark. The elder was asleep.
Covered by the Lugnica national flag that had been cut in two, he had fallen into a sleep from which he would never wake.
And beside that lifeless elder— "Crusch... san?"
Subaru's voice trembled wretchedly as he took in the sight of the person who had half-turned to face him, standing over MacMahon's crumpled body with its eyes closed beneath those deeply lined lids.
Standing there was a beautiful woman clad in dark navy military attire, with long green hair and amber eyes—
"—"
At Subaru's faltering call, Crusch narrowed her lone amber eye. She adjusted her grip on the slender sword in her hand, and with her gaze sharpened, parted her thin lips.
"The wind of fear is blowing, Natsuki Subaru. —What is it you fear?"
"Fear... me? What are you—"
"For starters, what business brought you here? Was there some personal connection between you and Miccrotof MacMahon?"
"I was summoned by him, and there were things I wanted to ask about—"
"On this particular day? That doesn't add up. What did you wish to ask? Something about the royal selection? Or some other secret meeting? I haven't hit the mark, have I? But your composure only grows worse. Let me ask you once more. —Are you the genuine article I know?"
"—!"
Overwhelmed by Crusch's relentless barrage of questions, Subaru couldn't string his words together.
In a situation he still hadn't fully processed, Crusch's razor-sharp words cut into him like blades.
Crusch pressed harder, her gaze seeming to carve open Subaru's chest— "That's enough, you know."
"Yeah, this isn't exactly a pleasant thing to watch."
Stepping in from the side to intervene in the exchange between Subaru and Crusch were two others—
Beatrice, through the touch of her small hand, and Tiga, by stepping forward at an angle to block Crusch's gaze, both pulled Subaru back from the brink of being consumed.
Thanks to them, Subaru remembered to breathe, and the cold sweat that erupted belatedly helped cool his heated head.
In the meantime, Tiga, wielding a curved shamshir blade, faced off against Crusch. He let down the brim of his hat, shielding his eyes as he called out.
"You might want to acknowledge that this is a situation ripe for misunderstanding, Duchess."
"Misunderstanding?"
"That's right, misunderstanding. With this many people dead and a pillar of the kingdom killed on the scene, if someone shows up holding a sword, anyone would think the same thing. —That the one who slaughtered everyone in this mansion is Crusch Karsten, Duchess."
It was a straight, direct question—delivered in his characteristically unaffected manner. And it was exactly the fact Subaru most needed to confirm.
"—"
Tiga was right.
In the massacre that had taken place at the McMahon estate, the prime suspect who had killed everyone—including the owner MacMahon—was without a doubt Crusch.
But Subaru, who knew Crusch's character, wanted to deny that suspicion head-on.
Crusch was noble and upright, a remarkable individual capable of making the right judgment.
Even though she had lost her "memories" and needed to rebuild her dignified noble bearing from scratch, the core of her virtue and her fundamental decency had never been consumed by "Gluttony."
It was impossible for someone like her to commit such an atrocity. Absolutely impossible.
That was why Subaru wanted to hear an explicit denial from her lips.
He wanted her to say that she, like Subaru and the others, had noticed the disturbance at the McMahon estate and rushed here, only to arrive too late. That she wanted to share in his remorse and anger, track down whoever had killed MacMahon and the others, and atone for the crime together.
He wanted those words of denial from her— "You seem to be a remarkably brazen individual."
Disregarding Subaru's silent plea, Crusch's expression unchanged, she fixed her gaze on Tiga and declared. Tiga gave a slight shrug.
"Harsh assessment, but I'll take it. So, how about it?"
"—"
"Miccrotof MacMahon—did you kill him? —Crusch Karsten, Duchess."
"—Yes."
Tiga pressed again, and this time received a clear answer.
It confirmed the suspicion—it was the worst possible answer, betraying Subaru's prayer-like hope. A strangled sound escaped Subaru's throat, and that brief response echoed over and over inside his skull.
As if to amplify Subaru's violent shock, Crusch gave a faint nod.
"The people in this estate and Miccrotof MacMahon were cut down by my own hand. They were traitors—enemies of the kingdom."
"—You're the one who's the traitor, Duchess!"
"Wha—!"
In an instant, Tiga erupted with a shout, closed the distance in a single bound, and swung his curved blade—his shamshir—in a fluid slash at Crusch.
He gave her no room to say "wait"—a decisive first strike without hesitation. But Crusch deflected it with an upward swing of her own blade, and the bright ring of steel on steel echoed through the office.
That single note became the spark. Steel screamed and sparks erupted between the two.
"—"
With the clash of blades, sparks flying, the wide office became a stage on which two swordsmen displayed their arts.
Crusch wielded the technique of one who had walked the sword's path with sincerity—whether in the battle against the
Tiga, on the other hand, fought low to the ground, spinning like a top in his own unique style.
Among those Subaru knew for their swordsmanship—Julius, Wilhelm, and Cecilus, among others (excluding Reinhardt, whose fists and kicks left a stronger impression than his sword)—they were all swordsmen who had refined orthodox techniques.
If their swordsmanship could be called the straight path, then Tiga's was the crooked path—rather than confronting the enemy head-on, he mercilessly targeted hands and feet, mixed feints with real strikes, caught the opponent off guard, and pursued victory with unbridled greed— "Sei—!"
With a cry sharp as tearing silk, he launched his strike. Gripping the shamshir in reverse, he swung along an unconventional trajectory toward his opponent. When Crusch leaned back to dodge, what followed was Tiga's long, flexible leg, lashing out like a whip.
The kicks woven between his sword strikes functioned as part of a seamless, dance-like sequence, generating an unbroken stream of sword wind that bore down on Crusch.
Against Tiga's top-spinning rapid-fire assault, Crusch maintained her expressionless composure, using swift, precise footwork to keep her distance while matching his sword with her own, fighting for control of the dizzying exchange.
Had she packed steel plates in her boots? Even with Crusch's sword dropping to meet his kicks, she refused to give ground—the quintessence of orthodox swordsmanship refusing to yield a single step against the unorthodox warrior.
"You're quite skilled. Is that how they teach swordsmanship at the '
"Unfortunately, it's all self-taught. I've always had bad habits with both my hands and my feet!"
"What a spirited demeanor. You're not lying, I see."
Crusch dodged Tiga's kick at the last moment and brought down a vertical split strike. Tiga caught it with his reverse-gripped shamshir, and in the ensuing lock of blades, the two exchanged words.
A back-and-forth battle—both were exceptional fighters, so neither could gain a decisive advantage— "—Subaru! Pull yourself together!"
"—Ah."
"It's natural to be shocked. But you can't just stand there dazed, you know!"
With that, Beatrice bounced up and slapped his cheek, and Subaru's eyes widened.
The stinging impact made Subaru realize, once again, that he had stopped thinking and become mesmerized by the fight between Tiga and Crusch. —He was deeply grateful to Beatrice.
He was certainly in shock. Looking at the situation calmly, there was no way he could maintain composure. So before calmly reassessing the situation, there was something he had to do.
"My Friend."
Looking over, he saw Tiga's lips form those small words while keeping Crusch's blade pressed against his own, having caught sight of the exchange between Subaru and Beatrice in his peripheral vision.
Though the words lacked an addressee, Subaru understood Tiga's intent. What he sought was not backup or reinforcement— "—Outside."
He had to inform others of this situation and stop Crusch's rampage.
Fortunately, there were plenty of Subaru's allies in the royal capital right now. Garfiel was there, Wilhelm was there, even Reinhardt.
This was the nobility quarter, so other estates besides the McMahon residence should have knights and guards stationed there. He could call for them to help restrain Crusch.
And then— "—"
—And then, would he have Crusch punished? Execute her as a traitor for killing MacMahon?
"I'll need you to stay. I haven't finished assessing you yet."
As that inescapable hesitation flickered through the corner of his mind, a blast of sword wind swept over Subaru's head.
"Whoa!?" Subaru ducked instinctively. The wind that grazed the tips of his bristled hair passed behind him and slammed into the upper portion of the room directly behind—destroying the ceiling and walls near the entrance with its cutting force, and the resulting collapse sealed off the doorway.
"The escape route...!"
The instant he understood it was sealed, Subaru was forcibly made aware that his options had been cut down and his hand was painfully thin.
"—!"
Having the escape route sealed meant there was no longer a choice to leave.
There was no time in this crisis to leisurely clear the rubble and secure a way out. Minya, his shadow magic, lacked raw destructive power—he couldn't count on it to blow the entrance away in one shot.
In other words, Subaru's only options were to stand by or intervene—and in a situation like this, standing by was absolutely not an option.
But to intervene meant— "—Fight? Against Crusch-san?"
He couldn't make sense of it.
He couldn't grasp the reality.
He couldn't accept what his own eyes were seeing.
After all, the person standing there was Crusch Karsten. Subaru respected her. Even as an opposing camp in the royal selection, her personal character deserved recognition. Crusch was proud and noble, an outstanding individual who never neglected the efforts and discipline required of a ruler, and in terms of what made a true king, she had been the first person to truly captivate Subaru. When she had slain the White Whale and acknowledged that achievement in her own words, the significance of that moment in Natsuki Subaru's life was something no one could deny—or would be allowed to deny.
He had prioritized his love for
That Crusch Karsten was, without question, one of those truly worthy of being king of the Kingdom of Lugnica.
"—Please stop, Crusch-san!"
That was why, here and now, Subaru could only play the weakest card in his hand.
"—"
To Subaru's pleading words, Crusch, locked in fierce combat, did not respond. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead on Tiga, her opponent.
But Subaru believed she couldn't ignore him entirely, and raised his voice.
"Put down your sword! Please! I don't know what to do! I don't know, but I'll talk too! I'll try to talk—so things can work out!"
Without realizing it, the hand not being held by Beatrice had been gripping the black sphere hanging at his neck, squeezing it tighter and tighter. —With Al, there had been so many words that needed to be exchanged, but he'd been forced to seal away his will without ever having that conversation.
Priscilla's death—the event that had driven Al to his violent act—had carved into Subaru the absolute weight of a loss that could never be recovered.
To lose someone he knew without ever being able to speak to them again. —For the current Natsuki Subaru, that was far more terrifying than his own death.
"I don't want it to end like this! I don't want to... without understanding anything, without knowing what's going on, I don't want to end up separated from the people I care about!"
"Subaru..."
"Please! I'm begging you! Please... I'm begging you... please stop..."
Watching Subaru's profile as he pleaded with such desperate anguish, his voice strained to its limit, Beatrice's eyes wavered and she bit her lip.
He was pathetic. Helpless. He was the partner of Beatrice, the Great Spirit, yet he couldn't put her wise and remarkable power to any use—all he could do was scream and wail like this.
"Please..."
Even knowing his own powerlessness, Subaru had no choice. If he couldn't run away, then fighting Crusch was something he simply couldn't bring himself to do.
There had been times before when someone he'd met had dramatically changed his impression of them—usually for the better, turning a negative impression positive.
The only exceptions were Todd and Al. —To add Crusch to that list was something he absolutely could not endure.
"—"
Subaru's clumsy, halting pleas were so fragile they might have been swallowed by the intensifying clash of blades. Or perhaps, given how insignificant his presence was in this fight, they might not have even reached Crusch's ears.
And yet— "—Your words don't seem to be lies."
"—!"
Hearing that murmur—as though she had been convinced—Subaru's eyes flew open.
With Tiga positioned between them, Subaru's gaze and Crusch's crossed past the unorthodox swordsman.
Looking into those amber eyes, Subaru felt a spark of hope that his words had reached her— "In that case, I'll put you aside for now."
—In that instant, centered on Crusch who had spoken, a violent wind erupted throughout the room.
"Wha—!"
The moment he felt the pressure engulf his entire body, Subaru's feet left the ground. He intuited that this was caused by Crusch's wind—the technique she was known for, "Hundred-Man One Sword," released omnidirectionally without a set direction.
The massive wind blades, normally concentrated in a single direction, had instead been dispersed outward in all directions. The resulting air pressure shook the already-battered office mercilessly, lifting even the thick books, bundled documents, and the dead elder's corpse into the air.
But that was as far as Subaru's grasp of the situation went.
"Gah—!"
His unprotected body was launched upward and slammed into the ceiling, knocking the wind out of him. He instinctively pulled his arms in to shield Beatrice against his chest, but that was all.
"Subaru!" Beatrice cried out as Subaru, still clutching her tightly, was carried by the wind, hurled against the wall, and dumped ungracefully onto the floor without any ability to break his fall.
"—Ugh..."
Pain seized his entire body without exception, and as the last of his breath leaked from his lungs, he felt the back of his head going cold, and his instincts screamed that this was bad.
It wasn't the same as "death." But his consciousness was fading. He had prioritized Beatrice's safety over his own, and this was the price. As if a hole had opened in his skull where he'd struck it, consciousness was flowing out from there. —Bad, bad, bad.
"I can't... lose it..."
If he lost consciousness now, who would speak to Crusch?
Tiga didn't know her. He didn't know Crusch's true character—that she was genuinely a good person at heart. He was misunderstanding. He had to stop this. Crusch was a good person. If they talked, he'd understand.
Because talking was how understanding happened.
"...I know... because..."
So please, don't shut your ears to my words. —Holding that wish to the very last moment as his consciousness faded away, Subaru sank into darkness.
Sinking—and— △▼△▼△▼△ "—Yes."
"—"
When consciousness suddenly returned, Subaru nearly lost his balance.
His brain couldn't process the difference between who he was a moment ago and who he was now, and that disorientation affected his limbs, causing panic.
His feet were on the ground. Naturally—he was standing. Standing. Naturally. Was it really natural, though? Was standing the expected state? It hadn't been before, which was why he was now experiencing the sensation of heaven and earth having flipped upside down— "No."
What Subaru should be focusing on now wasn't the inverted world. It was the cause—the reason he felt the world had flipped.
And that cause went without saying. —He had turned back time.
"—"
As Subaru's knees nearly buckled, his vision showed the McMahon office before it had been devastated—MacMahon's corpse cradled in the bisected national flag. Before that corpse, a green-haired woman half-turned to face him, and a young man who had stepped half a pace ahead of Subaru.
Crusch and Tiga facing off. And this exchange had just taken place— "The people in this estate and Miccrotof MacMahon were cut down by my own hand. They were traitors—enemies of the kingdom."
It was the fatal affirmation, the irreversible answer to Tiga's question.
"—You're the one who's the traitor, Duchess!"
Before Subaru, frozen in horror, Tiga erupted with a cry and lunged forward.
Tiga began his sword dance with the shamshir held in reverse, and Crusch met it head-on—a clash between two swordsmen walking the crooked and straight paths.
The ringing of steel, the scattering sparks—all of it dancing chaotically through the office. Watching this battle, Subaru felt dizziness threaten him for a different reason than his earlier loss of balance.
"That's... impossible..."
A hand pressed to his mouth, a strangled voice escaping. The shock—unstoppable as blood seeping from a wound—pummeled Subaru's head from the inside.
—It was "Return by Death." He had "returned by death."
Just before losing consciousness, it had been Crusch's wind that blew Subaru away. The impact with the wall and ceiling, the fall to the floor, the loss of consciousness—and now Subaru had returned to this moment without ever waking. That meant he had "returned by death" without regaining consciousness.
If Subaru's life had been taken after losing consciousness in that situation, then the one who had done it was— "—Subaru! Pull yourself together!"
"—!"
"It's natural to be shocked. But you can't just stand there dazed, you know!"
Beatrice snapped Subaru back to his senses, using the same encouragement as before on someone stiff for an entirely different reason. Her small palm struck his cheek, and the pain and warmth brought him back.
"Sorry, Beako."
Subaru rubbed his stung cheek with the back of his hand and clenched his teeth until they creaked.
Even with "death" in between, Subaru's confusion and shock over this situation hadn't faded by even a fraction. But even if he denied what had happened as impossible, screaming that he refused to accept it, the result would be the same.
Without the courage to intervene in the fight between Crusch and Tiga, Subaru would die screaming pathetic pleas—and Crusch's hand would be the one to take his life.
"I can't let that happen."
He couldn't allow it.
He couldn't let Crusch Karsten be the one to take Natsuki Subaru's life. He couldn't let his own weakness tarnish her nobility.
He couldn't let Crusch's hands be stained with Subaru's blood. It simply must not happen.
"Beako, lend me a hand."
"—! That goes without saying!"
Shock and panic had scattered the pieces of the puzzle called reason.
But even from that scattered puzzle, he grabbed the pieces whose shapes were still clearly visible, and squeezed his partner's hand—someone who felt nothing but dependable.
The battle continuing before their eyes—Crusch and Tiga's fight was an even match, truly a back-and-forth affair.
Knowing Crusch's abilities, Subaru was tempted to marvel at Tiga's swordsmanship, which could rival hers. But in the current situation, the clear disadvantage was that Crusch held the decisive finisher Tiga did not—"Hundred-Man One Sword."
Whether Tiga knew this or not, his choice to fight at close range had prevented Crusch from having time to gather wind. But between the clashes of their blades, Crusch was building up the wind to turn the tide—Subaru knew that from firsthand experience.
Therefore— "Don't rely on magic, My Friend!"
"I never could to begin with, My Friend!"
Whether encouraging or discouraging, a voice answered his call, and Subaru pulled his arm back, drawing Beatrice against his chest. From a distance close enough for their cheeks to touch, the two of them watched the ongoing battle intently— "—E.M.T.!!"
Their chants overlapped, and what expanded through the office was an invisible field centered on Subaru and Beatrice—their original technique, E.M.T., an anti-magic art that unraveled constructed mana formulas, neutralized them, and stripped them of their power.
Within this field, not only was casting magic impossible, but even "Metia" that used mana as fuel or magical constructs would malfunction and go haywire. According to Beatrice, if someone adapted to the haywire state and weaved new formulas, the situation could change—but that was beside the point.
"I could definitely create enough of an opening to slap Roswaal across his surprised face!"
"Never mind at first sight... it'd be total chaos!"
The effect of the deployed field wasn't limited to Subaru and Beatrice—it engulfed the two combatants as well, dragging them under its influence.
For Tiga, who fought without magic as he himself had declared, the E.M.T. had no effect. But it was a different story for Crusch, who had been preparing to channel wind into her attacks.
Crusch, who had tensed at Subaru and Beatrice's chanting as though anticipating what was coming, darted her lone eye toward them as the E.M.T.'s field effect took hold. —Before "Return by Death," Subaru had also locked eyes with Crusch.
That time, his hopes had been betrayed and Subaru had lost his life—but— "Surrender, Crusch-san! Your win condition is gone! You can't use Hundred-Man One Sword! I won't let you! This is over!"
Coating his trembling voice with false bravado, Subaru projected an image of unyielding resolve.
He had learned that there was no reality that could be changed by weakness, tears, or desperate pleas. What was needed here was words powerful enough to convey his will to the other party.
Words of conviction must carry the soul within them. —From the bottom of his heart, he had to deceive both the other person and himself.
He had to make Crusch believe, completely and utterly, that Natsuki Subaru was the kind of opponent who simply wasn't worth fighting.
"—"
Straight on, Subaru's black eyes and Crusch's amber eye locked in a contest of wills. Between them, swords clashed once more, and the bout between Crusch and Tiga also reached a pause.
Holding his curved blade in a half-guard stance, Tiga—still positioned to shield Subaru and Beatrice behind him—spoke.
"That's right, my friend there is giving you advice. If I might add, I suspect that friend of mine is also a friend of yours... so why not listen?"
"Tiga..."
"Frankly, I don't have the power to simply overpower you and take your sword by force. If I tried to restrain you, I'd have to be prepared to draw blood—at worst, my life. That's not something I, or the two behind me, want."
Tiga's gaze never wavered from Crusch's every movement as he spoke.
Perhaps from his perspective, he had gone along with Subaru on the slim chance that even one opening from Crusch would be a bonus. Still, what Tiga had conveyed had clearly taken Subaru's feelings, broken them down, and made them easier to absorb.
There was no way Tiga could know what had happened between Subaru and Crusch.
Rather, if he knew anything about the royal selection, he should have assumed they were from opposing camps. But from Subaru's brief words and actions here, Tiga had deduced that his relationship with Crusch was far from a simple antagonistic one.
Subaru would ride that wave of understanding. —He would restrain Crusch.
Restrain her, and then. Everything would work out from there. That was how he had to think.
"I—"
"—Minya."
As Crusch was about to speak, Beatrice—clutched in Subaru's arms—raised her hand in a gesture of prayer, and a deep purple light pierced through at her feet.
A purple arrow struck the ground, crystallizing the office floor and cracking it.
"I'd advise against any reckless movements. Even within the E.M.T., Betty and Subaru are exceptions who can still use magic. Can you fight me while keeping that wisecracker at bay?"
"I'm hurt by the 'wisecracker' comment, but you can use your own magic? That's cheating."
"That's the whole concept, you know. But that's how it is."
Crusch's expression tightened slightly as Beatrice's provocation pressed their advantage—a sign that she had shifted Subaru and Beatrice from being non-threats to clear targets of caution.
It stung to be seen that way. But if she considered them a threat, that was a blessing. If she recognized she was at a disadvantage, she should be able to make the right judgment— "I see."
With that, Crusch made a casual swing of her sword, tracing an arc through empty air.
It was a move designed to catch them off guard—but it was likely meant to test the E.M.T.'s effects. The sword wind that should have been generated never materialized, and Crusch nodded in acknowledgment of the failure of "Hundred-Man One Sword."
And then— "—Natsuki Subaru. What is it that you fear so much?"
Once again, Crusch directed her question at Subaru.
But this time was different from before. Rather than being swallowed by bewilderment, Subaru gritted his teeth and endured.
"The outcome of the battle? The safety of yourself and those beside you? The fate of the kingdom? Or—"
"—"
"—Or, my sanity?"
It was a probing, deliberate question.
Even to that, Subaru used every muscle in his face to maintain his composure. He shaped his expression with everything he had, making sure not a trace of his weakness or fear leaked through.
What had Crusch seen in Subaru's face, painted with his entire soul?
Simply and briefly, Crusch parted her thin lips— "I see."
—that was all she murmured.
"Duchess, we've conveyed our demand. What is your answer?"
The wordless storm of emotion that had risen between Subaru and Crusch—Tiga deliberately ignored it and posed the question to Crusch again in a sharp voice.
The tension in his voice made it unmistakably clear: this was an ultimatum. Feeling the renewed surge of killing intent pressing down on her, Crusch looked at Tiga.
"I understand your position. In this situation, with my wind sealed, I am at a disadvantage. And so you demand my surrender—that is your claim."
"—Yes. From here on, Beatrice and I will join as well. Your chances of winning..."
"—To declare that so definitively would be premature, Natsuki Subaru."
With regal composure, as though crushing Subaru's bravado beneath her heel, Crusch spoke those words. Slowly, she raised her left hand—the one not holding a sword. —Her slender fingers, encased in a white glove, touched the large eyepatch covering her left eye.
The eyepatch that covered the entire left side of her face—it was the part that, according to what the woman herself had said, had yet to fully heal even as the secret power Fillore had used to treat the effects of "Dragon's Blood" worked on it. Subaru watched in astonishment as her slender fingertips hooked beneath it and began to peel it away.
Because— "It's not a sight I'd like to show for long. —I am a woman, after all."
The left eye that Crusch revealed, now bared, was not the same amber as her natural eye. It gleamed gold. A reptilian slit for a pupil, with lines of light running beneath her eye like capillaries—and at the sight of it, a single word blazed through Subaru's mind like lightning.
"—Ah."
He wasn't even sure if it was correct.
But looking at Crusch's inhuman golden eye, that was what he thought.
"—"
—Crusch Karsten's left eye had become the "Dragon's Eye."