There was a woman. One woman, all alone.
She was the kind of woman you'd find anywhere—a village girl of utterly ordinary birth and upbringing.
Loved by her parents, loved by her siblings, and loving her family in return—she was a perfectly, crushingly normal woman.
She had a fiancé chosen by her family, and like any village girl of no particular note, she would have lived out her days in a quiet corner of a quiet village.
That was her life, a life beyond question—a path paved smooth and straight.
But her ordinariness was shattered by a wretched man of power who visited the village.
Whether he saw something in her or simply had the vile habit of coveting what belonged to others, the truth of it was unclear—but either way, the man desired her, and he took her by force.
Even in a remote village of a small nation, the gulf between a commoner and a man of power was insurmountable.
She could not defy him. She could only bow before the cruelty of fate.
And yet, she was loved. By her family, by her fiancé, by the people of the village.
Unable to endure the man's tyranny, the people's fury ignited—and from that fury, war was born.
The flames spread. The villages became armies. And at last, the man's mansion was burned to the ground.
In a single night, the woman's station changed utterly.
From a simple village girl to the figurehead of an armed uprising—and the fiancé at her side.
But the fires refused to die, and those who saw the growing blaze as a threat dispatched their forces, one after another.
Every last one of them was repelled by the people who rallied for the woman's sake.
War spread like wildfire, consuming first the small nation, then the neighboring ones, then a great empire itself.
The woman at its center became known far and wide, and the people whispered that she was a celestial maiden, a beauty descended from the heavens.
Fantasy stacked upon fantasy, and the mounting fascination and expectation threatened to crush the woman's slender frame.
No one noticed. Not her family, not her fiancé, not the people—no one saw the woman herself.
Wave a hand, and cheers erupted. Walk down a road, and crowds surged. Raise a voice, and tears of adoration flowed—all directed at her.
"This… this is wrong. I-I've made a mistake… haven't I…"
She buried her face in her hands and denied it. This couldn't be right. None of this could be right.
She was just a village girl. Not some celestial maiden, not some kingdom-toppling beauty—just a village girl.
Where was any of that value supposed to come from?
The people were drunk on a dream. Bewitched by fantasy, dancing to the tune of an ideal.
And before long, with nothing left to hold them back, the flames born from the woman consumed even a great empire.
The fallen empire. The conquered castle. At its pinnacle, her fiancé knelt before the woman. And he spoke: "—I love you. This victory, the smiles of the people—everything was given to me by you."
The capital burned. Bodies piled high. The people trembled with ecstasy.
The villagers she had lived alongside, the family who had loved her, the fiancé who had wished for her happiness.
Not a single one of them remained. Not one.
The woman left without giving her fiancé an answer—abandoning family, villagers, everything.
She had never given. She had never desired. She had only ever lost.
Losing the days when she had truly been loved, the woman walked alone across a field of ash.
And yet—the dream, the fantasy, the ideal would not let her go.
Everywhere she went, everyone loved her, everyone devoted themselves to her, everyone desired her—and everything perished.
Everyone loved her. Like a curse. Without ever knowing the true love that lay within.
The "
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ The wild sword energy pierced through, striking Subaru and the others as they took on "Electra."
A man in a crimson kimono, sleeves torn away, upper body wrapped in nothing but a cloth bandage.
The "Stick Swinger" bore a madman's gaze as he hurled a declaration of despair at them.
The second floor's "trial"—a test in which the examinee had to earn the recognition of the proctor, the "Stick Swinger," before being allowed to proceed upward. By the sheer absurdity of this man's skill, two people had already been eliminated.
Even so, through her innate courage, her shameless wheedling, and her overwhelming firepower,
"Hnn? Who said that? Don't go making stuff up, you. If one person clearing it means everyone else clears it too, then what's the point? Use your head, use your head! Is your brain full of fry or something, you?"
"S-someone who's literally the least qualified person in the world to talk about common sense is making合理 arguments…!"
The man clacked his chopsticks together, crossing them with a snap, and Subaru groaned at the devastating logic.
Truth be told, they had been the ones to jump to conclusions about the trial's clearing conditions.
On the third floor, the trial had been a riddle, and the moment it was solved, the room's structure itself had changed—which only reinforced their mistaken assumption. They had been sure the second floor's trial worked the same way: clear it once, and a new section of the archive would open.
But that premise had collapsed. If individual fighting power was required for each clear, then breaking through this trial was nothing short of despair.
This realization hit hard, coming right after they had witnessed just how impossibly difficult Emilia's condition—"make the man move even a single step"—had been, despite its deceptive simplicity.
To put it bluntly, Emilia currently stood as the strongest fighter among those challenging the
And they had allowed this strongest fighter to push through in the first round, when the man was most off-guard.
In other words, they had thrown their strongest vanguard against the enemy at his weakest.
If this had been a one-and-done victory, that would have been fine. But in a format requiring individual victories, they now had to throw fighters inferior in combat power against an opponent who would never again leave an opening.
Move the man one step—even after Emilia had seized that victory at the cost of tremendous attacks and a sliver of luck, could they really replicate it?
"—Wait a moment. There is a critical flaw in your reasoning."
"A flaw?"
Subaru, shuddering and desperately searching for a thread of victory in a losing battle, was addressed by
"What is it, you? You're ten years too early, you. Five years at minimum, you. Grow your arms and legs, stretch yourself out a bit, fill out up top and back there, and then come back, you."
"…I never intended to entertain your nonsense to begin with, but that settled it completely. So let me be direct."
"Direct? About what?"
"Obviously. —Emilia never said that if you moved even a single step, it counted as '*our* victory.' In other words, Emilia's victory is a victory for all of us—Betty included!"
"—!"
At Beatrice's observation, Subaru caught his breath and glanced at Emilia.
He was stunned. That brazen negotiation had actually been calculated with that much foresight? He marveled at Emilia's hidden cunning. But under his gaze, Emilia had her hand over her mouth, going "Oh." She hadn't meant it. She'd been genuine. She was Emilia-tan.
"Oh—now that you mention it, I did say that! I said 'we'! See? Doesn't that mean all of us together passed your 'trial'?"
"That's a matter of phrasing, you. It doesn't work that way, you."
"Okay… I get it. Subaru, Beatrice, I'm sorry. It's no good…"
"You're giving up too fast?!"
Beatrice shouted at Emilia, who slumped her shoulders and withdrew with a meek expression. But Subaru had to admit, once he thought about it calmly, it had been a stretch.
Still, he couldn't help clinging to even that possibility, given how devastatingly high the wall before them seemed.
"Well, I guess the brat's got a point. Sounds like at first it was 'take me on with as many as you want.' —Got tired of being told what to do, so I forced myself up, but still."
"Force yourself up… so that first time was a system break?!"
"Search me, you. Use words I can understand, you. Don't go saying stuff that sounds like a grey-haired old man, you."
The man's mood swung between good humor and irritation like a pendulum, and while nodding along to his rambling, Subaru gradually assembled a theory about the man's true identity—or rather, about the mechanism of the "trial" itself.
The third floor's trial, the second floor's trial, and the man's seemingly unhinged behavior the moment he appeared, followed by his subsequent words and actions—connecting the dissonance between all of these pieces led to a single understanding.
In short: there was a fatal discrepancy between what the "trial" was supposed to be and what it currently was.
"So originally, the trial was something everyone could clear by working together to meet the condition—but because you 'woke up,' now each person has to meet the condition individually?"
"Ha! What, so you figured it out, you? But let me tell you, I'm not sure which was easier—you all ganging up to kill me, or me groping your girl's chest and taking a punch to the face. Can't say which would've been more—"
"—Careless with your words, pervert. I'm quietly seething over here."
A careless remark, met with a whip crack laced with fury.
Subaru drew the whip from behind his hip and lashed out with nothing more than an elbow-forward motion, sacrificing everything for speed. But the man caught the near-sonic strike with his chopsticks, pinching it and waggling it casually.
The odds of landing it had been slim, and the surprise attack had failed— "Heh! Didn't take you for the whip-cracking type, but there it is, you. What kinda fetish is that, you? Save the whip stuff for enemies and your women, you."
"You *are* my enemy! Besides, if things ever got to that point with Emilia, there'd be a lot more steps involved—and I sure as hell wouldn't be using a whip!"
"Subaru, Subaru, calm down. You're not making any sense. And you're letting him set the pace!"
"That's right, Subaru! You shouldn't get so angry! He only touched my chest—I wasn't done anything weird to!"
"That *is* the weird thing, Emilia-tan!"
"You'd be well within your rights to be angry, bombshell."
Both Subaru and the man jumped in simultaneously to rebuke Emilia's attempt at calming things down. Their synchronized retort made Emilia's eyes go wide, while Beatrice let out a deep, weary sigh.
And then— "—Um, excuse me?"
The four of them bickering as though the tension had been completely sapped from the room—that was when the figure who had maintained silence throughout finally spoke up, her voice trembling.
"I… don't want to say this, but I really think we should pull back."
Saying this, the girl with dark blue hair braided into three plaits—Meili—raised her small hand. She sat with the unconscious
Her yellow-green eyes, reflecting the man standing at the far end of the room, held unmistakable fear.
"I don't understand how you can talk to that person like it's normal, big brother. …The knight big brother and the muffler big sister both went down, and the naked big sister too…"
"Shaula went down for a different reason, but… yeah, it is strange."
Meili's timorous opinion, when one considered their current combat strength, was the only reasonable conclusion.
If anything, Subaru—the one who wanted to stay and keep fighting—was the one who hadn't fully regained his composure. He had been completely pierced through by the "Stick Swinger's" killing intent.
Whether Emilia's harassment and the fact that Julius and Anastasia were both down had contributed to this was impossible to assess objectively— "—Hypothetically, if we backed off and came back later, would he accept that?"
"———"
The man had shown he could accept Emilia's clear with grace—though that could just as easily be called having no other option once cornered. But just because he'd shown that much didn't mean the rest of him would be equally reasonable.
Even to put Meili's sound judgment into practice, if the man didn't agree, combat was unavoidable. Until now, he had shown restraint—not killing them. But the way he had shifted gears, there was no guarantee the next attempt would end without bloodshed.
If that were the case, this wasn't about trials anymore. They would need to fight at full strength just to retreat.
Without exaggeration, the "Stick Swinger's" ability had reached catastrophic levels.
He had defeated Julius with two chopsticks, fought Emilia to a standstill, and still clearly had power to spare—that strength was Reinhard-level, without hyperbole. What on earth had the administrator of this tower been thinking, placing a monster like this here?
Between this and the constellation-themed riddle on the third floor, it really seemed like the tower had no intention of letting anyone pass.
"Well? What's the call?"
Subaru shuffled backward, inching toward the fallen Julius and Anastasia. Noticing his movement, Beatrice and Emilia subtly shifted positions as well.
If the "Stick Swinger" bared his fangs, the only option would be for Emilia to activate Icicle Line once more while Beatrice cast Murak on the three fallen members and rushed them out. At worst, they would have to consider deploying their unfinished trump card—the third installment of their collaboration— "—I'm done."
"Huh?"
"I'm done! Done, done, done, done, done-done-DONE! I'm bored!"
To Subaru and the others, who had been mentally and physically preparing for a full retreat, the man blurted this out without warning. His childlike behavior left them staring. The man slipped his arm back through his detached left sleeve, re-draping his kimono to its original state. Then, with a grumpy expression, he walked away from the group and—pathetically—toward the Selection Sword that had been kicked aside.
He stomped on the fallen blade, flicking it into the air, and caught it effortlessly. Then he drove its tip into the white floor with a forceful thrust, returning it to the state it had been in before the trial began.
And then— "Closing time. Get lost, you lot. I'm bored. I ain't doing it."
He plopped himself down on the spot, one knee raised, and spat out the words.
"—Wait, wait, wait, wait! Way too arbitrary! What the hell?! You're making up the rules of the 'trial' based on your mood?!"
"Shut it, you. Discretion over this place was left to me, you. And if I say I'm not doing it, then I'm not doing it, you."
At that high-handed declaration, Subaru was struck speechless. The man then added, "Besides—" and continued.
"—When I'm not in the mood, I don't play. Can you handle that, you?"
"———"
A chill swept through Subaru's entire body, like a gust of wind passing through him.
Having stowed even his chopsticks and abandoned all weapons, the man's lips curled. It was a smile, unmistakably—but one of an entirely different quality than before.
This was not the savage-but-sunny grin he had worn. It was the dark, blood-soaked smile of a malevolent beast, wreathed in grisly killing intent.
"…Ah."
A small groan escaped.
It wasn't Subaru's—it belonged to Emilia, who should have been beside him. She had one hand pressed to her own white throat, her gemstone eyes wide with shock.
Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. It was as if, in that instant, she became aware of her own inability to stand—that she had forgotten how to breathe— "Haa—"
And Subaru, jolted back to breathing by Emilia's reaction, was the same. The moment he noticed, his knees gave out from the sheer difficulty of drawing air, and he was drenched in a deluge of sweat.
Just like Emilia—no, even more than her, Subaru had been overwhelmed by the man's sword pressure.
He had nearly forgotten his own heartbeat—nearly died, one could say.
If no one around him had reminded him to breathe, those eyes alone would have killed him.
"You lot, better rack your brains and find a way to win. The same trick that worked on the bombshell won't work again—unless you send a sleeping pervert, or something. Now scram. I'm going to sleep."
His voice held no playfulness. With those words, the man's head dropped forward. After a moment, the sound that gradually filled the room was the man's thunderous snoring—loud even in sleep.
In a way, a snore that perfectly matched his character—but no one present had the composure to laugh at it.
"Let's hurry back, okay?"
Meili voiced what they all felt—the desperate instinct to leave this place as soon as possible. Taking the girl's words as their cue, Subaru and the others slowly gathered their wounded and were forced to retreat from the trial.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ "I see. So *that's* the reason you came slinking back from the second trial."
"…That's rather harsh, sis."
"Stop talking like that. That theory about you being the master of the girl sleeping over there is starting to sound credible."
"That would be bad. I'll watch it."
At
They were on the fourth floor, in a room adjacent to the green chamber. Gathered here were Subaru, Ram, Emilia, Beatrice, Meili, and the unconscious Shaula—six in total.
After descending the long, long staircase and fleeing back from the second floor, the group had first carried the wounded into the green chamber, entrusting their care to the spirits.
Their assessment on the way back was that Julius had simply fainted, and Anastasia's condition was caused by overuse of magic—neither was in any life-threatening danger.
So they had put them to bed, and Subaru had brought Ram along when relocating rooms, partly to respect the room's occupant limit and partly to explain the situation— "I hear there was a rather absurd trial proctor… but Lady Emilia must have suited his fancy? Even if only she could have gone up—couldn't she have gone to look at the library at least?"
"That's…"
"Oh, now that you mention it, I didn't think of that. Hm, maybe if I went alone, I could have gotten to the first floor… Should I ask the 'Stick Swinger' if that's possible…?"
"…No, let's not. I don't want to poke the bear when he's in a bad mood, and even if he said Emilia-tan could go up alone, that's… dangerous."
"I'll be *really* careful, though?"
"Dangerous."
"Very dangerous."
"Dangerously so, I suppose."
Subaru, Ram, and Beatrice all shut down Emilia's determination simultaneously. Emilia backed off meekly under their combined concern, but it wasn't overprotectiveness that had quashed her resolve.
The simple fact was, they didn't want to provoke the "Stick Swinger recklessly. That was an undeniable truth.
He was genuinely frustrated by his casual demeanor, but regardless of when the trial might resume, challenging him while he was in a foul mood would be suicide.
In truth, none of them had even seen the man grip a sword.
And even if Emilia alone could slip past him— "I'm honestly not even sure the second floor's 'trial' was just that one thing. It's suspicious that he gave up so easily… Well, maybe it just looked that way because Emilia-tan breezed through it, but I can't shake the feeling that there might be more to it."
"I think you're overthinking it. That person… he's rough, and a bit strange in what he says, but he didn't seem like a liar. No, he seemed like someone who *couldn't* lie."
"Whether that's a matter of principle or a matter of intelligence is open to interpretation…"
In any case, there was no basis for dismissing Emilia's point. And if anything, Subaru's own assessment of the "Stick Swinger" aligned with hers.
The trial she had breezed through could also be read as something only achievable by the strongest fighter, Emilia. After all, Julius had been defeated— "I just hope he's not taking it too hard…"
"Are you worried about Julius?"
"I don't know. Worried, sure—surely I am, but… it's not that simple."
The image of Julius, defeated head-on by the "Stick Swinger" and knocked flat, was burned into Subaru's memory. Recalling Julius's expression in that final moment, his worry was far from unfounded.
His swordsmanship hadn't reached the mark. He'd been toyed with like a child, and in the end, even his knight's sword had been snapped— "There was a spare sword in the dragon carriage, but that's not really the issue, is it?"
"A sword can be reforged. Betty doesn't quite understand that attachment, I suppose."
"Beako, you treasure the handkerchiefs and mittens and aprons I made for you, don't you? This is like that, but the advanced version."
"…Sorry for being difficult about it."
Beatrice apologized sincerely for her harsh words, and Subaru patted her head with a sigh.
After Julius woke up in the green chamber, Subaru had no idea how he'd react. Would he be uncharacteristically dejected, or would he put on a brave face as usual? Either way, Subaru didn't know what to say to him, and the thought weighed heavily.
And if there was something troubling Subaru, it didn't end with Julius.
"Anastasia…
What lingered most stubbornly in Subaru's mind was Anastasia
There was no question about the act of supporting Julius—when they had all watched him fall into a disadvantageous position, every one of them, Subaru included, had wanted to reach out and help.
But if you looked past that, what Echidna had done—using Anastasia's body as a vessel—was more than surprising. It was shocking.
Throughout the journey and since arriving at the Watchtower, Echidna had insisted she would maintain Anastasia's mannerisms, taking the utmost care with her body. She had kept that promise as far as Subaru could see. And yet, suddenly, she had acted in a way that contradicted all of it— "That girl's deterioration isn't the same as simple magic overuse. The severity is different."
"—What do you mean?"
As Subaru pondered, Beatrice—the only one who shared Echidna and Anastasia's current situation—leaned in and whispered.
When Subaru pressed for more, Beatrice continued: "In other words, ni-cha and Betty, and that muffler spirit—we're all special, even among spirits. Each of us is more powerful than the average spirit, but we have certain restrictions. You shouldn't need me to explain Betty's by now, Subaru."
"Yeah. Your possessiveness is so strong that since I contracted with you, I can't contract with any other spirit. I belong to Beako. Rest easy."
"I—It's not like I'm particularly happy about that or anything. More to the point, it's about the muffler spirit. He *is* borrowing that girl's body, that's true, but… having spent this much time together, haven't you noticed? That girl can only use od. Nothing else."
"She can't use anything besides od?"
"Like you, Subaru—there's a defect in her body's gate. The valve is broken, so the function that draws mana from outside is dead. That means she has to burn her life force to cast any magic at all."
"That's…"
Subaru's breath caught. Wasn't that fatal?
He was astounded by the problem hidden within Anastasia's body. In this world, that was an enormous handicap.
*The trump card costs me my life*—Anastasia Eridna had said those words. They had been meant literally. Completely, utterly literal.
And the fact that had now come to light only deepened Subaru's confusion.
If Echidna's overuse of Anastasia's body could only shorten the host's lifespan— "Why did she go that far to save Julius?"
Calculating, scheming—that wasn't how it had looked. Behind that desperation had been unmistakable, unmistakable concern for Julius's well-being.
Had Echidna truly felt that for Julius? Was it because of the "Blessing of the Spirit Affinity" he carried?
"—I'm worried about Anastasia and Knight Julius too, but there's a more pressing issue we need to address," Ram cut in.
"That'd be the 'Stick Swinger.'"
"Yes. It may seem heartless, but the trial's outcome matters more to Ram. —If we can't clear it, we won't reach the means to bring back
Her words, as she herself admitted, lacked a certain delicacy. But Subaru couldn't bring himself to resent her for it.
Ram's hard expression, not quite as composed as it appeared, betrayed a faint undercurrent of anxiety. It was the frustration of someone who could touch the possibility of recovering her lost sister but couldn't quite reach it.
"K crimson kimono, one eye, red hair, blue eyes… he's got a rather ostentatious build, doesn't he?"
"Does anyone come to mind? The image is hard to pin down without seeing him in person, but I'll say it plainly—he's monstrous. Might be Reinhard-level."
"A nightmare."
"But Subaru isn't lying. I've never seen Reinhard fight seriously, but… yes, I think he was that strong."
Laced with disbelief, Ram's words drew confirmation from Emilia as well. Coming from someone who had actually fought the man, that carried weight.
There was no reason for Emilia to lie. Accepting that, Ram pressed a hand to her forehead with a weary expression.
"If we take Subaru and Lady Emilia at their word, then we're talking about a foe on par with Knight Reinhard—the strongest in the world. In the current era, there's perhaps one such person per nation."
"Reinhard is the strongest in the Kingdom, and the other three great nations each have their own strongest?"
"The Volacchia Empire's One General,
"No one with red hair?"
"We don't know the characteristics of the Holy Kingdom's 'Mad Prince,' so it's possible."
"Prince… a prince. He didn't really have that kind of air about him."
That said, if you picked out just the "mad" part, you couldn't say for certain it didn't fit. He had a handsome face, but you wouldn't call it refined or aristocratic.
That was a wild beauty—the kind of beauty that only existed in the wilderness, permitted by the open sky.
"So then, a martial artist whose name isn't known to the world…"
"His clothing was traditional Kararagi attire. And he was quite skilled with those chopsticks."
"Though the way he used them was so far from their intended purpose that 'skilled' feels like an understatement…"
Besides, no matter how hard Subaru tried, he couldn't reconcile the man with the image of an "unknown martial artist."
The man was slightly older than Subaru—probably in his mid-twenties. The idea that someone that powerful, with that much presence, could have remained unknown until that age was incongruous to the extreme.
And there was more.
The man was embedded in the Pleiades Watchtower's strange mechanisms—and the question of whether he was truly just a normal person had been nagging at Subaru all along— "Oh, big brothers and sisters? Can I interrupt?"
"Hm?"
"The naked big sister looks like she's about to wake up?"
From the corner of the room, Meili raised her hand. She had been diligently using her lap as a pillow for Shaula. True to her word, Shaula—still resting her head on Meili's lap—was writhing in a tantalizingly sensual manner, groaning "Mmnn… ahnn…"
Then, under everyone's gaze, her eyelids slowly parted— "Master… don't leave me alone… I hate being lonely, Master…"
"Don't start with heartbreaking stuff right off the bat! You're faking it, aren't you?!"
"Tch. I figured if I said something all pathetic, Master would be moved. But that's one of the things I love about you, Master."
"I worried for nothing…"
Shaula swung her long legs upward, then down, using the motion to spring to her feet with ease. Shaking her ponytail—what she called a "scorpion tail"—she looked around the room, tilted her head, and went "Oh?"
"Huh? Why are we in a place like this? I remember Master had a brilliant flash of insight, and we cleared the 'trial' and headed upward…"
"Yeah, that part wasn't a dream. It's real."
"And then Master held me in his arms and smiled and said he'd never let go—"
"*That* part was a dream! You passed out the moment the second 'trial' started!"
Subaru snapped at the absurd dream narrative, trying to jog her memory of what had actually happened. But Shaula snorted dismissively.
"Me, passing out? That's impossible. I wouldn't do something so embarrassing. Even after reuniting with Master for the first time in hundreds of years, I didn't pass out. For *me* to pass out? That's laughable—it's enough to make tea brew in your navel!"
"I get why you'd be skeptical, but you really did pass out. Subaru and Meili were *really* worried about you. Trust me on this."
"Really?! Master was worried about me?! Hehehe, I believe it!"
"Easy…"
"Feeling like I'm some kind of afterthought is honestly pretty awful."
Meili's expression was a mix of emotions as Shaula happily reversed her position with a lovesick grin. But after acknowledging the fact, Shaula tilted her head the opposite way.
"But what *did* happen? Me collapsing is not normal. Under those circumstances, everyone except Master should've been killed, so…"
"I understand you have excessive faith in Barus—I mean, Master, but it's true. Think back carefully. …There was a long, long staircase before you."
"A long, long staircase…"
Ram spoke in a quiet, almost hypnotic voice, guiding Shaula to reconstruct her sealed memories—despite not having witnessed the scene herself. Yet she spoke as though she'd been there, slowly unwinding the locked-away recollection.
"What greeted you was a white room, with a steel sword thrust into the floor. The moment you took it in hand, a strange voice resounded in the hearts of everyone present—"
"My heart's beating fast…"
Ram's unusually emotional narration had Shaula and Emilia thoroughly invested. Shaula aside, Emilia should have already known exactly what happened, but Subaru didn't dare interrupt for fear of derailing the process.
And the story reached Shaula's sealed memory— "At that moment, a figure appears at the back of the room. A man with long red hair, blue eyes, dressed in foreign attire—"
"YAAAAAH!"
The instant the critical moment arrived, Shaula shrieked and leapt to her feet. She then lunged at Subaru, who had anticipated this and braced himself, absorbing her full weight. This time, he didn't go down.
Instead, he was crushed against Shaula's soft body with the grip of a vice.
"Ow ow ow ow! So you remember! You remember, right?!"
"Wh-wh-wh-why is that guy here?! You told me Master and the others killed him! He's alive! He really *is* immortal even after being killed!"
"Hah?! What are you—"
Wincing in pain, Subaru started to ask what Shaula was talking about—and then it hit him.
The meaning behind her words.
If what she'd said was accurate, there was only one person in this tower who fit the description.
Which meant— "The 'Stick Swinger'! The 'Stick Swinger' is Reid! That absolute monster! That demon! He came back to life just so he could grope my chest again!"
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
That was the name of a swordsman preserved in legend.
A great swordsman who had slain magical beasts, slain swordmasters, slain dragons, and ultimately slain a Witch.
The first person to bear the name "Sword Saint," and one of the Three Heroes who had saved the world.
The origin of the Astrea family's glory—a lineage that included
It was hard to believe. That name belonged to a life that had supposedly been lost over four hundred years ago.
If this tower had not existed for centuries past and been built by one connected to the Witches, that possibility would have been dismissed with a laugh.
But here, there was a living witness who knew the world of four hundred years ago.
But here, there was a tower built by the "Sage" who had lived four hundred years ago.
Considering his terrible personality, it was entirely like him to place the first Sword Saint as the "strongest guardian" and dare anyone to surpass him— Armed with this discovery, Subaru and the others hurried back to the green chamber.
Now that they knew the man was Reid Astrea, they needed to develop a countermeasure. Fortunately, they had heard that the "Sword Saint" was a man whose exploits were anything but scarce.
And fortunately, among their group was someone well-versed in the great figures of the past.
Of course, Subaru could imagine that the effects of the defeat still lingered on Julius. But if he knew who his opponent was, perhaps he could swallow that humiliation. After all, it wasn't his fault.
His opponent was the "Sword Saint"—the founding patriarch of the very house that bore the same name as Reinhard.
Thinking of it that way, the defeat should have been easier to digest— "—Hey, you idiot."
With those words of comfort ready, Subaru returned to the green chamber and let out a suppressed voice.
At the far end of the room, where the spirits had fashioned grass beds for the injured—Rem in one, Anastasia in another, and
Nothing remained on the vine-woven bed except a single broken knight's sword.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ The sound of footsteps striking the stairs roused the man, the sword pressure prickling his skin pulling him slowly from sleep.
He felt no anger at being disturbed. After all, life was a constant battlefield.
If one accepted that existence itself meant standing perpetually on the edge of death, then nothing that happened there could shake one's composure. How much playfulness one brought to that was another matter entirely.
"———"
The footsteps drew closer, ascending, and a figure gradually came into view. There was familiarity in the sword pressure. In the footsteps, in the footwork—the same. Recent memory. Impossible to forget.
And yet, the same should have been true for the opponent, which struck him as odd.
He'd expected someone smarter— "———"
"Ha!"
That impression vanished the moment he looked into the ascending figure's eyes.
What replaced it was a surge rising from his throat.
He let it roll across his tongue with relish, then raked his fingers savagely through his red hair.
And then— "This time, it won't be just a game, you."
"———"
He doubted the words carried any meaning, but offered them as a formality.
The opponent closed his eyes briefly, then discarded every emotion without hesitation.
Without a moment's hesitation, he reached out—and drew the sword thrust into the floor, settling into a stance.
"Kingdom of Lugnica, Royal Knights—
"———"
With his declaration, and the man narrowing his eyes in response, the knight charged forward with ferocious speed.
Watching this, the man—Reid Astrea—twisted his cheek into a cruel smirk.
"As long as you're introducing yourself with that boring title, you won't even qualify as a playmate."