"Who are you?"
Clind went straight to the point, staring at the black-haired man and demanding his identity.
"..."
The man in question remained silent, returning a cold and somewhat disdainful glare toward the butler.
Regulus, on the other hand, knitted his brows.
"Tsk. How dare you ignore me! That is an unforgivable lack of respect!"
Clind's eyes widened as he sensed imminent danger.
His peripheral vision caught Regulus swinging his arm, completely laying waste to the space right in front of him.
Such an inexplicable power—one that violated the very laws of the world—could only originate from an Authority. Clind leaped into the air just in time to evade the broad-range strike.
"This is the human who single-handedly invaded the fortified city of Garkla. Recognition. His abilities appear to center on space-time manipulation, given that he does not age nor sustain damage of any kind, not to mention that anything he touches acquires an extraordinarily strange behavior. Uncertainty."
Even the air and airborne dust particles yielded beneath Regulus's power. Clind was in a dire predicament, particularly with another enemy of unknown capabilities standing alongside the treacherous Archbishop of Greed.
Clind's instincts—or sheer intuition—screamed that the black-haired man was vastly more dangerous than the white-haired youth. The fact that his soul was a fragment of Leandro's was alarming and bizarre enough on its own. They hadn't crossed paths by mere coincidence; these two had actively come to hunt him down.
"They likely intend to target the manor. Conjecture."
Even though the Witch Cult was involved, the butler suspected that Emilia was not their primary target this time around. If they had somehow learned that Leandro was resurrected and left in a severely weakened state, it made complete sense for them to strike now, eliminating what would otherwise be a monumental hurdle to their plans.
"I cannot allow them to reach the manor. Duty."
Without a shred of hesitation, Clind unleashed his full strength, assuming his dragonkin form. He swiftly rained down a barrage of purple lightning upon the two figures below, but to his utter bewilderment, the bolts passed right through them without leaving a mark.
In response, Regulus launched another airborne slash—a relatively slow strike that should have been trivial for Clind to dodge. Yet, the moment he attempted to shift his body, something went horribly wrong.
The impact hit him head-on.
Clind lost his balance and plummeted for a few seconds, wondering what on earth had just happened. His mind and body had inexplicably ceased responding to him right when he needed them most.
He never lost his focus, not even under extreme pressure, such as when he fought Leandro and was forced to exert every ounce of his power.
After centuries of existence, the odds of making such a novice mistake were virtually zero.
"What's wrong, butler? Is that all you've got? If you're going to fall so quickly after acting so cocky, I'll be thoroughly disappointed by your lack of integrity."
Hearing those words, Clind recovered mid-fall and launched another flurry of attacks, but these too were completely ignored.
Reasoning that his enemies might possess some countermeasure against magic, Clind lunged forward to deliver a physical blow instead. Knowing Regulus would be immune to direct damage, he opted to simply launch him away with a heavy kick to clear the field.
After sending the white-haired youth flying several kilometers into the distance, Clind locked his sights on the black-haired man. It took less than a second to reach him, but just as he began executing his strike, he stumbled, missing his target by mere inches.
"..."
His adversary watched expectantly, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips. This time, the psychological shock ran far deeper. Clind couldn't fathom how he had committed such a fundamental error, but seeing that the man remained motionless, he forced his body into motion and attacked again.
He missed once more.
He tried again.
And kept missing.
His attacks simply could not land.
Suddenly, the black-haired man placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Come on, don't give up now. Try again. Maybe you'll get it right next time."
Capitalizing on the physical touch, Clind discharged a surge of electricity through his body, convinced it would fry the bastard alive, but the lightning merely scattered harmlessly in every direction.
"Impossible. Disbelief."
His strikes and magic were behaving in a deeply aberrant fashion. There was clearly another variable at play—a factor far beyond his comprehension.
In a final, desperate gambit, Clind threw himself onto the black-haired man to pin him down and crush him with brute force.
In an absurd, almost cartoonish manner, Clind passed right through his opponent's body as though slipping through a ghostly illusion, crashing onto the ground with a thoroughly perplexed expression.
The man's smirk widened.
"Do you get it now? Nothing you do—"
Clind didn't let him finish. He reached out his hand and clenched his fist, unleashing his Authority to compress his target's body until nothing remained.
"At last. Relief. Now all that remains is—"
"Ahem."
A soft cough echoed behind Clind, sending a chill of pure dread down his spine. He whipped his head around, locking eyes with the very man he thought he had just erased.
This was the second time someone had survived a direct hit from his Authority. Curiously enough, both individuals who accomplished that feat shared the exact same soul.
"How…? How did you do that?"
"That's hardly relevant. By the way, earlier you asked who I am."
Clind stared helplessly at the man smiling at him with the calm confidence of a guaranteed victor. Defeat was virtually certain if he continued to fight.
At that moment, a harsh gust of wind swept around them, swirling in an unnatural fashion. The black-haired man's next words were chillingly surreal.
"I am the Archbishop of Pride. My name is Natsuki Subaru—the one and only true protagonist of this story. The man you're trying to protect from me is an impostor who stole my identity, my soul, and my body. I'm going to take back what belongs to me."
"What…?"
There was no need to ask for clarification. Clind knew instantly that Subaru was referring to Leandro.
"But that… shouldn't be possible. He doesn't possess the Authority of Gluttony."
Subaru let out a dry, hollow laugh.
"Leandro told you when you two fought, didn't he? You really ought to update your concept of what that word means."
Realizing he was paraphrasing his sworn enemy, Subaru's expression twisted in disgust, and he spat on the ground with open disdain.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because he insisted I do."
Subaru gestured behind Clind, who turned to see Roswaal standing there, watching him with his trademark enigmatic smile.
"Master Roswaal… I believed you were dead."
"I believed so myself for a brief period, but this kind young man salvaged my soul and granted me a second chance. I now pursue a different ambition—one that, far from being selfish, is the noblest pursuit of my long life."
"I see…"
Roswaal stepped closer, extending his hand toward Clind in a gesture offering both support to stand and symbolic acceptance.
"It is good to see you, old friend. Now, the time has come for you to open your eyes and align yourself on the proper side. I understand you had no choice but to submit to Leandro after he defeated you in battle and secured my niece's backing. However, you no longer need to serve him or Annerose. Join us, and help us unmask him—help us show the world his true nature."
The offer crashed over Clind like a mountain of iron. It was far too much information to process in under five minutes.
Furthermore, Clind was no fool. He knew Roswaal was hardly a selfless individual who would act for the benefit of others without expecting something in return. There was more to this, and even if Leandro harbored a dark past, he had at least shown no inclination to sacrifice or discard his allies like pawns on a board.
If it came down to weighing who had committed more atrocities, Roswaal was hardly in a position to cast stones.
"I see you hesitate… It surprises me that he managed to earn your sympathy to such a degree."
Roswaal's brow furrowed slightly. Subaru clicked his tongue in irritation.
"It doesn't surprise me. He's a damn master manipulator."
"If all of that is true… what is it that Leandro wants? What is his purpose?"
In response to Clind's question, Subaru answered immediately, his features warped in pure hatred.
"To have fun. He's playing God, using his powers to do and undo whatever he wants on a whim. He has the Witch of Envy and the Witch of Greed on his side. Once he gets bored, he'll destroy everything and start all over again."
"What do you mean?"
Clind pressed, but this time Subaru showed no patience for his hesitation.
"I've said enough. Decide whose side you're on."
Silence fell over the clearing.
The dragonkin understood clearly that this decision was far too monumental to make lightly.
Should he align with his former master, who had formed an alliance with the Witch Cult?
Or should he remain loyal to the man who spared his life and the young girl he had protected for years?
It was almost certain these three were preparing to launch an attack on the manor. If he joined them, the chances of wiping out Leandro and his companions were overwhelmingly high.
Clind felt his chest constrict with pain and his stomach turn with shame at the mere thought of betraying Annerose.
Even if he chose to stand aside, allowing those people to die would be a spit in the face to his pride.
No. He could never live in peace if he did that.
"So, Clind? What will you do?"
Roswaal's hand remained extended. The mage retained that same smile, though his eyes were sharper and colder than before, scrutinizing the dragonkin's body language.
Finally, Clind stood up, rejecting Roswaal's hand, and turned to face the three men.
"I refuse."
Roswaal sighed.
"Pity—"
Before he could finish his sentence, his head was utterly shattered by a crushing blow from Clind.
"..."
The dragonkin turned toward Subaru, who wore a thoroughly bored expression.
"What? You still want to fight?"
Without a word, Clind kicked off the ground, his body moving at lightning speed as he sprinted as far away from that place as possible.
"Ah, I see."
Subaru nodded, realizing Clind's true intent.
In a situation where defeat was absolute, the only option besides surrender was flight—and that was precisely what the dragonkin was doing.
"Unfortunately for you, I can't have you ruining the surprise."
Subaru snapped his fingers, and Clind materialized right in front of him once more.
"A valiant attempt, but far too optimistic. You really should have pretended to side with us if you wanted to live a little longer."
"..."
Clind didn't move. At that moment, he realized there was nothing he could do to alter his fate. He was going to die here, completely unable to warn the people at the manor of the impending catastrophe.
The sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of orange and gold. Flocks of birds flew overhead, etched like dark brushstrokes against the clouds.
Despite watching such a serene sunset, a heavy foreboding hung over me—a strange tightening in my chest that definitely wasn't a sudden surge of tachycardia.
Hours had passed since Clind went after Garfiel, and neither of them had returned. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something had gone horribly wrong along the way.
After pacing around the manor aimlessly, I collapsed onto a chair, leaning forward in a pose that practically mirrored that famous depressed Shinji meme.
"..."
Otto appeared quietly beside me, staring with his classic kicked-puppy expression. I couldn't tell if he felt pity for my complete powerlessness or if he was nursing his own guilt over Garfiel.
"Any news?" I asked, raising my head slightly with a sliver of hope.
"No..."
"Great."
My shoulders slumped, and I let out a heavy sigh. I hadn't expected much, but I wanted to believe that somehow things would sort themselves out.
Frederica hadn't spoken a word to me since our last exchange. Emilia and Betty had stayed with me for a while to offer comfort, but once they left, my mood plummeted right back down.
Rem and Ram were nowhere to be found, busy with something they hadn't bothered to explain to me. Petra hadn't shown up either, which felt even stranger.
"In a way, he got his revenge on me," I muttered out of nowhere.
Otto blinked, tilting his head. "What are you talking about?"
"Garfiel. He took Patrasche. He flat-out NTR'd me."
"What?"
"Nothing, just things only I understand. Call it dialect from back home."
"I see..."
"Why aren't you with Frederica? She could use the company."
"I really can't face Frederica right now..."
"Because of Garfiel? You had nothing to do with that."
"No, it's not because of Garfiel. I wish it were."
"Huh?"
My gossip instincts flared up instantly. I gave Otto my undivided attention.
"Spill it."
"You're just going to make fun of me..."
"Do you really think I'm enough of an asshole to mock you in a serious situation like this?"
"Yes."
He answered with absolute, unwavering certainty. Not a single trace of doubt.
I chuckled softly. "You talk like you've known me my whole life."
"See? I'm not telling you anything."
"Come on, seriously, I need something to take my mind off things. I promise I won't laugh. And if I do, you can hit me wherever you want—no retaliation."
Otto let out a long, weary sigh. He laced his fingers together and looked at me with deep gravity.
"A few nights ago... I drank way too much wine."
"Shocker."
"Please let me finish the sentence before you start insulting me!"
I rolled my eyes, but gestured for him to go on.
"Anyway, I was with Frederica, talking about what we could do to keep the campaign from collapsing..."
"Right, our standing isn't great, especially with Roswaal out there. Given that he's alive, I doubt he'll leave us in peace."
Otto nodded, his cheeks reddening as he continued his story.
"I don't know at what point I stopped thinking clearly, but I suddenly realized I was standing very close to her."
"Scrotto, don't tell me..."
He turned beet red, burying his face in his hands.
"Yes! I confessed my feelings to her!"
"That's awesome!"
"And she rejected me!"
"That sucks!"
I slumped back against the chair.
"I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea! The wine completely compromised my judgment! It was obvious someone like Frederica wouldn't be interested in a guy like me."
"I don't think that's the issue, man."
"Then what else could it be!?"
Ignoring his cloud of despair, I looked out the window, feeling the sort of anxiety that would have had me biting my nails back when I still had that bad habit.
"Think about it. Girls like romance. What's romantic about a guy declaring his love while reeking of wine, barely able to keep his eyes open, and slurring his words? I bet she turned you down because you picked the absolute worst moment for it. Not to mention, it's hard to take anyone seriously when they're hammered. You should apologize and give it another shot when you're sober."
"That's... surprisingly logical."
"Surprisingly?"
I raised an eyebrow, feeling mildly insulted, but Otto ignored my reaction and stood up.
"In any case, we need to find Garfiel first. If Clind isn't back by tonight, we should go out and look for him ourselves. How does that sound?"
"Sounds like a plan. I can't keep sitting around doing nothing."
Otto left to prepare for a potential night search, while I sank back into my own thoughts.
Before long, the last rays of sunlight faded entirely, leaving behind a clear, starry night sky.
"That's it. I can't just wait here."
I muttered to myself, standing up from the chair to go meet Otto.
Just as I took my first step, I was intercepted by three maids.
Rem, Ram, and Petra.
The youngest of them was holding a tray in her hands.
On it sat a cake.
"What's this?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.
"It's a cake," Ram replied with thick sarcasm.
Petra looked away, blushing furiously. Noticing her embarrassment, Rem gave her a gentle nudge forward.
"Go on, tell him."
The young girl hesitated for a second, then looked at me with newfound determination and spoke up.
"It's for you!"
I smiled. Petra was genuinely adorable whenever she got flustered.
"That's really sweet. There's no better gift than delicious food. What's the occasion?"
"To celebrate that you came back! Plus, you never mentioned when your birthday is, so... it's for that too."
"Oh, right. By now, I guess I must be around... twenty-two years old. Man, time flies."
Brushing aside the sudden wave of nostalgia, I crouched down to match Petra's height. Her eyebrows shot up when I extended my arms toward her.
"Ah!"
She nearly dropped the cake, but managed to lift the tray just in time as I pulled her into a warm hug.
"Thank you."
"D-Don't do things like that so suddenly!" Petra protested, stammering slightly.
I laughed, only to let out a sharp YELP of pain as Ram delivered a swift smack to the top of my head.
"What was that for!?"
"For being a pervert."
After that, we sat down around the dining table. Petra sliced the cake and offered me a piece, her bright, happy smile outshining any sunlight.
"Even if it's not today, happy birthday, Leandro!"
Caught up in her infectious joy, I smiled and held out my hands beneath hers to take the small plate holding the slice of cake.
And in a single, split second—Petra's body burst into a fountain of blood.
"..."
Dazed, my eyes scrambled across the room to find her, but all that remained of the girl were her hands, which I was still holding.
A sharp crunch echoed through the room, and I turned my head on instinct.
Standing there was a young man with stark white hair and golden eyes, staring down at me with a heavy scowl.
"Hey, are you Leandro?"