The sun of Lugunica had no memory. It struck the cobblestones, the tiled roofs, and the windows of the inns with the same royal indifference as the day before, as the day before that, as it had for centuries. It mattered little to the sun that the entire capital was still in shock from what had occurred a few hours earlier. It mattered little that nobles, sages, and knights were still sitting in their upscale parlors, staring into space, trying to understand what they had witnessed. The sun simply continued. Relentless. Indifferent. Almost insulting.
It was in this white and pitiless light that Natsuki Subaru regained consciousness.
It was not a gentle awakening. It was a brutal ascent, as if someone had yanked a blanket away with a sharp tug. His chest heaved violently, his eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, and his first reflex, even before thinking, was to reach his hands toward his stomach.
Subaru: « Damn it... »
The word came out on its own, hoarse, almost inaudible. He remained motionless for several seconds, staring at the wooden beams above him, letting his brain gather its wits. He was alive. Of that, he was certain. The dead probably didn't feel this dull pain in their ribs with every breath.
The memory of the arena, of the knight, of his own pathetic weakness hit him full force.
He looked down.
Bandages. Everywhere. Arms, torso, part of his neck. Neat, clean, well-applied — not his work, nor the work of someone who had done it in a hurry. Someone had taken care of him. This thought, simple as it was, had a strange effect on him. He did not linger on it.
Subaru: « I really got demolished, huh... »
It wasn't really a question. More of an observation he cast into the air to see if it hurt less when said out loud. It changed nothing.
He slowly turned his head to the side, and that was when he saw her.
Emilia was sitting on a wooden chair near the bed, her hands placed neatly on her knees, her gaze turned toward the window. She wasn't reading. She wasn't doing anything. She was waiting, but her mind was visibly elsewhere, far away in a place Subaru could not see. The sunlight caught her silver hair and transformed it into something ethereal, almost too beautiful for this ordinary inn room. But that wasn't what held his attention.
It was her hands.
They were still, yes. Too still. Her fingers were slightly curled, as if she had forgotten to relax them. And her shoulders — slightly hunched, not in their usual posture, that open and generous posture he knew so well. Something was weighing on her. Something she was carrying alone, in silence, facing that window.
A month of training with Kurisu, observing micro-expressions, learning to read what people didn't say. It wasn't perfect. Far from it. But this, he could see.
He hesitated for a second. Then:
Subaru: « Emilia-tan... are you okay? »
She started. Not violently, but noticeably — the kind of start from someone caught deep in thought who takes a fraction of a second too long to return to the room. She turned toward him, and the moment their eyes met, something changed in hers. The relief was immediate, real, sincere — her shoulders relaxed slightly, and a different kind of worry, more active, more present, took over.
Emilia: « Subaru! You're awake... How do you feel? Are you in pain? »
She had leaned forward without realizing it, her hands leaving her knees, seeking to do something useful without knowing what. It was Emilia — incapable of hiding that she truly cared.
But behind that, there was still something else. Something she wasn't letting rise to the surface. But Emilia had never been very good at concealing her emotions.
Subaru: « I... yeah. I'm okay. I mean, it hurts, but I'll be fine. »
He paused, truly looking at her this time, without turning his eyes away.
Subaru: « You, on the other hand... you look like you're somewhere else. »
Emilia blinked. One beat too many, and she turned her gaze back toward the window, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, and replied with a forced smile:
Emilia: « Me? No, no, I'm doing very well. You're the one we should be asking, you're covered in bandages... »
She accompanied this with a small gesture of her hand, natural, almost convincing. Almost. Subaru knew Emilia well enough to know she was about as good at lying as a five-year-old hiding a broken vase behind their back.
Subaru: « Emilia. »
He just said her name, adding nothing else. With enough calm and seriousness for it to count.
She stopped. Her hands fell back onto her knees. She looked down for a second before looking up again, and in that brief moment, Subaru saw that she was searching for words — not to lie to him, but because she didn't know how to begin.
Subaru: « What happened while I was unconscious? »
Silence.
Not a move-along, awkward kind of silence. The kind of silence that happens when the answer exists but the person cannot yet bring it out loud. Emilia looked at a point slightly above him, and her fingers tightened imperceptibly on her dress.
He didn't need to think long about the most likely cause.
Subaru: « It's Kurisu. What did he do? »
The question had barely finished when a voice answered in Emilia's place — relaxed, slightly amused, as if it had been biding its time.
Kurisu: « Oh? Are we talking about me? »
Subaru and Emilia turned at the same time.
He was there. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, in his eternal immaculate suit and the expression of someone who found the situation overall entertaining. He had made no sound upon entering. Maybe he had been there from the start. Maybe not. Impossible to tell with him.
Subaru: « Kurisu?! How long have you been there?! »
Kurisu didn't answer that. He pushed off the wall and entered the room with deliberate slowness, his steps barely audible on the wooden floor. His gaze slid toward Emilia — and she stepped back.
It wasn't much. A half-step, almost nothing. She didn't seem to have consciously realized it herself. But her body had done it before she could decide anything, like an ancient reflex wired somewhere outside of reason. She knew, intellectually, that he meant her no harm.
She knew it. But there was something she had seen a few hours earlier — something her mind hadn't quite filed away yet — and her body remembered it very well.
Kurisu did not pretend not to see it. He observed that flinch for a second, quietly, with the neutrality of someone who found it logical rather than offensive. Then he took another step forward, raised his hand, and patted her head with a lightness that was almost absurd compared to everything else.
Kurisu: « I already told you, Emilia. Don't be afraid. »
It wasn't a promise. It was a statement, delivered with the same casualness as a remark about the weather. Emilia said nothing. She let his hand pull away without moving, her eyes lowered a fraction of a second too long.
Subaru, for his part, watched the scene with a mix of emotions he couldn't have untangled clearly. Incomprehension, first. A slight irritation. And something else he preferred not to name.
Kurisu: « And besides, I've made sure things were sorted out. You're actually doing quite well compared to the others. »
Subaru cried out without waiting, anguish making his voice tremble.
Subaru: « What? »
The word came out on its own, sharp, before he had even decided to speak.
Subaru: « What are you talking about? What did you do to Emilia and the others while I was unconscious? »
Emilia opened her mouth.
Emilia: « Subaru, he didn't do anything to m— »
Kurisu: « I simply put the kingdom back in its place, like I told you I would. It wasn't even a warm-up. »
Kurisu cut her off, regaining control of the conversation with chilling ease.
He said this in the same tone one would use to speak of an administrative task. Settled. Unimportant. He added nothing else, letting the sentence float in the room.
And Subaru felt something freeze in his chest.
He remembered. The words, spoken a few hours earlier before the castle gates, before Julius interrupted them — the way Kurisu spoke of the kingdom like a toy one could break or put back at will. He remembered Emilia's face when he regained consciousness — turned toward the window, hands clenched, mind elsewhere.
A cold sweat slowly ran down his back.
Subaru: « Kurisu... you didn't... »
Kurisu raised a hand, without even looking at him.
Kurisu: « No. »
A silence.
Kurisu: « If I had truly demolished the kingdom, there would be no more story left to enjoy. I just gave them a scare. Nothing more. »
The phrasing was perfect for reassuring absolutely no one.
« Just a scare. »
Subaru knew the boundary between what Kurisu called « giving a scare » and what the rest of the world called « irreversible trauma. » That boundary was wide and blurry.
He looked at Emilia.
Her eyes were downcast. She said nothing. She didn't contradict Kurisu, but she didn't confirm either. She remained there, silent, holding something inside herself with a discretion that could have been mistaken for calmness if one didn't know her.
Subaru, however, knew her well enough to tell the difference.
Kurisu turned his head slightly toward her — a brief, almost imperceptible look. As if he were indicating something to her. Or rather, as if he recognized she had something to say and was giving her the space.
Emilia raised her eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and steady.
Emilia: « Subaru... you will have to stay in the capital for the time being. »
He hadn't expected that. The sentence hit him in a strange way — not painful strictly speaking, but direct enough that he hesitated on exactly what he was feeling.
There was a short silence during which he mentally sorted through several possible interpretations, and only one imposed itself, irrationally.
Subaru: « Emilia... I know I haven't really been... reasonable. That I maybe did things I shouldn't have, and that... »
Emilia: « What are you talking about? »
She cut him off with a sincerity so immediate, so devoid of the slightest trace of reproach, that he stopped dead.
Emilia: « You have to stay because your mana gate is broken and your injuries need to be treated properly. That's all. »
She had put a slight emphasis on that's all, not with harshness, but with the quiet conviction of someone who doesn't understand why the other is looking for punishment where there is none.
Subaru remained silent for a moment. The relief and the embarrassment of having thought that arrived at the same time.
Subaru: « Ah. Yeah. That's... that's why I came in the first place, actually. »
Kurisu: « Kekekeke. »
Kurisu's discreet but perfectly audible laughter floated through the room.
Kurisu: « You thought she was going to abandon you after all that, didn't you? »
Emilia: « What?! »
She turned toward Kurisu with an expression between shock and indignation, before turning her gaze back to Subaru. Who said nothing. His silence was answer enough.
Emilia: « Subaru... »
She took a short breath, then said simply, with that absolute frankness that was her own:
Emilia: « Even if you didn't keep your promise... I couldn't be angry with you. Even less abandon you. Don't worry. »
And she smiled.
It was a simple smile. Not spectacular. But it had that rare quality of being completely honest — without calculation, without hidden motives, without the slightest nuance — and Subaru, who had learned to look for what hid behind people's expressions, realized there was nothing to look for. It was just that. Just her.
He felt something loosen in his chest.
Subaru: « ...EMT. »
Emilia: « Hm? »
Subaru: « EMILIA MAJOR TENSHI! »
The cry echoed in the small inn room with a conviction totally disproportionate to the situation. Emilia blinked for a second — then burst out laughing. Not a polite laugh, a real, spontaneous one, a bit surprised to be there.
Emilia: « You are silly, Subaru... »
Subaru: « I was giving you a compliment! »
They laughed for a few more seconds. Nothing long. Just enough for the room to feel a bit lighter than it had been since the awakening. Kurisu had won his bet: by breaking the world around them, he had forced their bond to consolidate. But he didn't intend to let them enjoy the moment for too long.
CLAP.
The sharp sound of Kurisu's two palms hitting each other ended it with the surgical precision of a stage manager signaling the end of a scene.
Kurisu: « Forgive me for disturbing you while you're flirting, but I believe a certain someone has urgent business to attend to in her camp, no? »
Emilia and Subaru pulled away from each other, blushing violently. The mention of royal duties brutally brought Emilia back to political reality... and to the fact that she was subconsciously seeking an excuse to escape Kurisu's stifling aura.
Emilia: « Ah — you're right! I must get back, there are surely things happening that I must... »
She stood up in a quick movement, too quick to be truly dignified for the royal candidate she was supposed to be, but Emilia had never pretended to be something she wasn't.
Subaru: « Wait, what about me? What do I do? »
She was already at the door. She stopped, turned one last time, with that same calm and sincere smile.
Emilia: « Kurisu will take care of you for the rest. And Felix will come to treat you properly. Oh! And Rem will be here as well. Take care of yourself, Subaru. »
She disappeared into the hallway. Her footsteps receded, light and hurried, leaving the two young men alone in the room.
The silence that followed was of a completely different nature than the one at the beginning. Less heavy. But it took Subaru a few seconds to realize the room's atmosphere had changed entirely — and it was solely because he found himself alone with Kurisu.
Subaru: « ...What exactly just happened? »
Kurisu settled in beside him with the nonchalance of a man who had just won a chess game that no one else realized he was playing.
Kurisu: « Nothing important. What matters is that you are now under my responsibility, little brother. »
The vein on Subaru's forehead appeared with remarkable punctuality.
Subaru: « Why do you keep calling me that?! And we're around the same age, at least! »
Kurisu laughed softly, a laugh that no longer held any mockery.
Kurisu: « Not at all. I'm nineteen. You're seventeen. »
Subaru opened his mouth. Closed it. He had no valid response to that.
Kurisu: « And besides... »
He stopped for a second. Just one. His gaze moved slightly — not toward Subaru, not toward the window, but toward something that wasn't in this room.
Kurisu: « You remind me a bit of my little brother. He's your age. And that habit you both have of wanting to sacrifice yourselves for others without ever thinking of yourselves, or asking if anyone even asked you to... »
There was something in his eyes at that moment. Not much — a tiny variation, like a color seen behind glass, gone before one was certain of having seen it. Nostalgia. Real.
For a fraction of a second, the gaze of the all-powerful monster seemed to pierce through the walls of the inn, through the sky of Lugunica, to fix on a horizon located in another dimension, another universe he had left behind.
Brief. And immediately tucked away.
Kurisu: « But that's not the point. »
His voice had returned to the same tone. Light, detached, with that hint of permanent amusement that served as a surface for everything else.
Kurisu: « Your gate is still in a sorry state. And we have an appointment at the Duchess's. Get up, Subaru. We have work to do. »
And upon that command, the dynamic of the room shifted again, setting the stage for what was to come.
...
The scene opened on the Karsten estate, bathed in the cold and milky light of the early morning. It was the kind of light that hadn't quite decided if it truly wanted to be there — pale, hesitant, barely stretching across the dew-dampened grass of the gardens. The rest of the estate was still asleep. The servants had not yet begun their rounds, the hallways were silent, and the air smelled of damp earth and cold metal.
But in a secluded corner of the gardens, something was already breaking that stillness.
A sharp crash. Then a short breath. Then the dull thud of a body eating the dirt.
Natsuki Subaru stood up for the sixth time that morning.
His knees trembled slightly under the effort, his wrists burned where he had braced for the blocks, and a dull pain radiated from his left side — the remnant of a thrust received two exchanges earlier. He spat to the side, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and returned to his stance.
Opposite him, Wilhelm van Astrea had not moved an inch.
The old butler stood there, impeccable in his dark jacket, his wooden sword held in a perfectly relaxed hand, his gaze fixed on Subaru with the neutral and attentive expression of a man observing something interesting without yet knowing if it truly deserved his attention. No contempt. No encouragement either. Just that calm and perpetual vigilance of someone who had nothing left to prove long ago.
Subaru attacked.
He didn't charge straight in — he had learned that charging straight at Wilhelm was the equivalent of running toward a wall and hoping the wall would have the decency to move. He circled to the left, forcing the old fighter to pivot slightly, searching for an angle. Wilhelm turned with him. Their gazes met for a fraction of a second — and that was when Subaru feinted an acceleration before braking sharply, changing his axis.
Wilhelm dodged.
Of course.
But Subaru expected it. He let his momentum carry him, as if he had lost his balance, and in that falsely clumsy movement, he launched a lateral kick — low, aiming for the shin.
« There. A real bastard's move. Kurisu would be proud. »
Wilhelm shifted his rear leg, Subaru's foot grazed empty air, and a fraction of a second later, the old butler delivered a clean and direct thrust into the boy's side. Subaru let out a strangled sound, pain exploding in his ribs, but his teeth clenched even before his brain could tell them to. There was no question of stopping there. Not now. Not before having at least tried something.
He changed the trajectory of his sword in mid-air.
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't technical. It was desperate, unbalanced, and half-missed — but it was unexpected. Wilhelm blinked. For a fraction of a second. His eyes followed the wooden blade as it deviated at an angle that nothing mechanically justified, and in that minute fragment of time, something passed through his gaze.
Then he pushed Subaru away with a clean and definitive movement of his forearm.
Subaru flew. The wet grass vaguely cushioned the impact of his knees, then his palms. He stayed there for a second, on all fours, catching his breath in large, irregular gulps, eyes fixed on the blades of grass between his fingers.
« This kid... »
Wilhelm hadn't thought of anything resembling surprise in a long time. He let the silence settle while Subaru regained his breath, and during that silence, he observed him. Not the technique — it was mediocre, barely functional. But the way he searched.
The way he never charged straight on, how he looked for angles, imbalances, the micro-openings that a more seasoned opponent would have closed before he even spotted them. This boy knew he would never win through strength. So he looked for something else.
« It is that man who taught him this. He understood that attacking me head-on was suicide. So he endures, searches for the opening, and sacrifices his posture to counter-attack. Fascinating. »
Rem approached Subaru with a silent fluidity, kneeling in the wet grass without a moment's hesitation for her clothes, and gently placed the boy's head on her knees. Her fingers moved slowly through his messy hair. In her blue eyes, one could read an empathic pain for his injuries, but above all, a boundless admiration for his resilience.
Rem: « You were incredible, Subaru-kun. »
Subaru raised his head just enough to look at her with an expression between incredulity and resentment.
Subaru: « How can you say that? I got beaten soundly... »
He sulked slightly, turning his gaze away, which drew a tender smile from the young maid.
Rem: « Yes. » She did not deny it. She just said it, simply.
Rem: « But you didn't give up. That is what makes you incredible. »
Subaru opened his mouth. Closed it. Something in his chest did something embarrassing, and he turned his gaze away, blushing very slightly, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.
Wilhelm approached within a few steps, his sword still held nonchalantly.
Wilhelm: « So, Subaru-dono... Shall we continue? »
Rem immediately looked up, a slight tension crossing her features.
Rem: « Subaru-kun should rest. He has already endured much this morning. »
Subaru gently pulled away from her knees and stood back up. Slowly. Clenching his teeth against the pain in his ribs. But standing.
Subaru: « Sorry, Rem. Maybe later. »
He turned back toward Wilhelm, and something in his gaze had changed since the beginning of the morning. It wasn't rage. Nor was it that forced, strained determination one plasters onto their face when afraid of breaking.
It was something calmer than that. More grounded. The simple, tenacious, almost stubborn desire to become strong enough to never again watch someone he loved suffer without being able to do anything about it.
Subaru: « Let's keep going, old man. I'll manage to touch you this time. »
Wilhelm did not try to hide what looked like the beginning of a smile.
Wilhelm: « Then by all means, try. »
And the training resumed.
....
On the upper floors of the estate's main building, behind one of the large windows overlooking the gardens, a silhouette stood motionless, a cup in hand.
Kozuwa Kurisu watched the scene below with the tranquility of a spectator sitting in the front row of a play whose ending he already knew — but whose performance he found sincerely satisfying.
He brought the cup to his lips. Green tea, imported from a world no one in this room could imagine, with that slight bitterness at the back of the throat that vaguely reminded him of his mornings before all this.
He turned his head.
Behind him, four people observed him in silence.
Crusch Karsten stood as straight as a blade, hands crossed behind her back, her commander's face perfectly controlled — but her eyes never left Kurisu, and in those eyes lived something she never let out in public:
Absolute caution. Not fear. Caution. The difference was important for someone like her.
To her left, Felix Argyle — Ferris — had his arms crossed so tightly against his chest it looked as if he were trying to restrain himself. His cat ears were slightly flattened. His jaw was set.
He looked at Kurisu with a barely contained hostility, that of someone who wanted very much to speak but who knew, by pure survival instinct, that it was not the right time.
Reinhard van Astrea stood back, slightly to the side, one hand resting on the pommeau of his sword — not to draw it, just to feel it was there. His face was serene.
Too serene. The kind of serenity that very strong people wore when they concentrated all their attention on something without letting a single thought filter outward.
And Julius Juukulius.
Julius was sitting on a chair, slightly apart from the others. His usual posture — that impeccable straightness, that way of occupying space with the natural assurance of someone who had never had to doubt their place in a room — had vanished.
He had his elbows on his knees, his gaze down at the floor, his shoulders slightly hunched. He wasn't listening. Or rather, he heard everything and answered nothing.
Kurisu looked at all four of them, then turned back to the window.
Kurisu: « The kid isn't doing too badly, don't you think? »
A deathly silence answered him.
Kurisu sighed theatrically, emptying his cup in one gulp.
Kurisu: « Relax. That's why you're here, isn't it? So, what do you have to say? »
It was Crusch who spoke. Not because she was the most hurried, but because she was the one whose silence cost the most. Her gaze scrutinized the man in white, searching for the slightest flaw, the slightest hidden truth.
Crusch: « If you would permit me... why are you here? »
Kurisu turned around. His gaze met hers — and Crusch held that gaze, because she was Crusch Karsten and she hadn't reached her position by looking away. But something in that meeting of gazes confirmed what she had understood since the castle:
This man did not operate by the same rules as everyone else. There was nothing to read in his eyes because he let nothing filter through that he hadn't decided to let filter through.
Kurisu: « Me? Simply making sure Subaru is treated properly. That's all. »
The lie was absent, which chilled the Duchess further.
Crusch: « And what is your relationship with him? »
Kurisu: « I know you're a walking lie detector, Crusch. So you already know that what I just said is true. »
A silence. She didn't answer, which was in itself a confirmation.
Kurisu: « And concerning Reinhard... »
He turned slightly toward the Sword Saint.
Kurisu: « You played along, so I won't do anything to the kingdom. You can be reassured. »
Reinhard did not answer immediately. He observed Kurisu with that calm and total attention that was his way of measuring something.
Crusch turned to him.
Crusch: « Is it true? »
Reinhard: « We spoke shortly after my first meeting with Natsuki Subaru. He simply seems to... find him interesting. At least, that's what he told me. »
Crusch: « And you believe him? »
A pause.
Reinhard: « I believe he did not lie to us. »
Crusch remained silent. She looked at Kurisu with the gaze of a commander who has just received a contradictory report — not on the facts, but on the category in which to classify what she has before her. Threat? Ally? Uncontrollable factor? None of those boxes fit correctly.
« He is a piece that does not exist on the chessboard. » she thought.
« Neither the Council of Sages nor even the Sword Saint could contain him if the whim took him to destroy everything. We must walk on eggshells. »
Kurisu set politics aside and fixed his gaze on the slumped figure in the corner of the room. Julius had not uttered a word. His aura as the "greatest of knights" had been annihilated in the arena.
Kurisu: « Hey, Finest Knight. Why the long face? »
The casualness of the question was the final straw for Felix.
He opened his mouth. He didn't close it in time.
Felix: « How dare you say that after what you did in that arena?! Nyah, do you even realize what— »
Crusch: « Felix. »
Felix: « But Crusch-sama, he— »
Crusch: « Be quiet. »
The tone was short, sharp, final. Felix fell silent, lips still slightly parted on the words he hadn't finished, and turned his gaze away, a visible tension in his shoulders.
Kurisu looked at him for a second with something resembling amused curiosity.
Kurisu: « What did I do wrong? I didn't strike him. I didn't hurt him physically. Look at him, he's in great shape. »
The silence that followed was not a silence of response. It was a silence of people searching for the right words and not finding them — because the right words had not yet been invented to describe what Kurisu had done at the castle.
« Is he even human? »
The thought crossed Crusch's mind without her deciding it. She filed it away immediately, methodically, behind the lines of her will, and kept her face perfectly neutral.
« No. Probably not. Or in any case, not entirely. »
Kurisu stepped away from the window and walked toward Julius.
Julius did not move. He didn't even look up. He was doing what people did when they were ashamed and didn't yet know how to stand in their own skin — he occupied as little space as possible, as if half-disappearing could erase something.
Kurisu stopped in front of him.
Kurisu: « Do you know why I wanted you to come as well? »
Julius barely raised his head. Not enough to truly look at Kurisu, just enough to show he was listening.
It was then that Kurisu grabbed a handful of violet hair and pulled upward.
Not brutally. Not gently either. With that surgical precision that was his way of doing things — enough to force Julius to look straight ahead, not enough for it to be mindless violence.
Reinhard tensed. His hand tightened slightly on the pommeau.
Crusch held her breath.
Felix grit his teeth.
Kurisu: « First of all, because I want you to apologize to Subaru for your miserable hypocritical behavior. »
He let go. Julius sat back, his neck slightly stiff, but his gaze was beginning to rise.
Kurisu stepped back, sitting on the edge of the window with total nonchalance.
Kurisu: « But that is only the secondary reason. »
Julius finally truly raised his head. And there, for the first time since he had entered this room, he looked Kurisu in the eye. What he saw froze him for a second.
Not hate. Not pure contempt. Something more complex and less comfortable: condescension, yes — but also a judgment leaning on something that vaguely, from a distance, resembled understanding.
Julius: « Then... what do you want from me? »
Kurisu: « Tell me, "Finest Knight"... Do you truly deserve your title? »
Felix jumped.
Felix: « What is that supposed to mean?! Of cour— »
SNAP.
The snap of fingers was dry, brief, and the pressure that followed was not visible — but Felix felt it everywhere at once, as if the air had just decided to weigh ten times its normal weight. He buckled at the knee despite himself, breath cut short, and reached a hand to his throat by reflex.
Kurisu: « I'm not talking to you, cat. »
He released. Felix inhaled sharply, one knee still on the floor, trembling slightly. Crusch took a step toward him before stopping — she knew that approaching now would change nothing.
Kurisu turned to Julius.
Kurisu: « Answer. »
Julius looked at the floor one last time. One second. Just one. Then he raised his head.
Julius: « I have been a complete fool. I indulged in my own delusions of the perfect knight, telling myself I was acting on principle and duty, without ever looking at what was happening beneath the surface. »
He stopped. His hands tightened slightly on his knees.
Julius: « No... It's worse than that. I didn't simply look without seeing. I chose to close my eyes. I saw someone wanting to defend his lady with the only means he had, and I chose to call it arrogance because it was simpler than acknowledging that he, at least, was truly acting for someone else. »
A silence. He closed his eyes, a tear of frustration pearling at the corner of his lashes.
Julius: « No. I do not deserve this title. »
Crusch did not blink. But something in her posture changed imperceptibly — not pity, something closer to re-evaluation.
Reinhard, for his part, lowered his eyes slightly. A shadow passed over his face.
Kurisu let them absorb that for a second. Then:
Kurisu: « So tell me, Julius Juukulius. Now that you have understood what you were lacking — what do you intend to do? »
Julius did not answer immediately.
Kurisu: « Are you going to stay here and mope in your idiocy... »
He let the silence stretch.
Kurisu: « ...or are you finally going to stand up, swallow your ego, and try to change so you never make the same mistake again? »
Julius: « What... ? »
The word barely came out. Something in his gaze had just changed — not all at once, like when a light turns on, but slowly, like when clouds move and you realize the sun was there all along.
Crusch and Felix had their mouths slightly open.
Reinhard looked at Kurisu with something that wasn't quite surprise — rather the confirmation of an intuition he'd had without being able to formulate it.
Kurisu: « I didn't pit you against your own mediocrity in that arena to break you, Julius. I did it so you would understand how pathetic you were in the face of the world's true reality, and so you could finally evolve. »
He turned his head slightly toward a point on the ceiling — empty to everyone else in the room.
Kurisu: « I don't particularly hold you in my heart, and frankly, you still seem deeply stupid to me. But some saw potential in you... »
A pause.
« And I admit that it's not entirely false. So instead of crying in your corner like a child whose toy was taken away, stand up and move forward. You idiot. »
The religious silence that fell afterward was of a particular nature.
Then a sound. Brief at first. A kind of exhale that hadn't wanted to be a laugh and became one anyway.
Julius: « Ha... haha... hahahaha... »
Julius laughed. Truly. With warm tears — not for long, just a few seconds, but those few seconds had the quality of the laughs that come out when something heavy and cumbersome you were carrying without realizing it has finally dropped.
He wiped them with the back of his sleeve, gradually resuming his usual posture, like someone remembering how to hold their own spine.
Julius: « I understand. I will try to do my best, Kurisu-dono. »
Kurisu simply nodded, satisfied with his work. Then he let his gaze drift over the rest of the room.
Crusch had her mouth slightly ajar. She closed it, mentally cleared her throat, and did what she always did when she was destabilized: she stored the information, categorized it, and waited for more elements.
Felix watched the scene with an expression that oscillated between incredulity and something he would have been very annoyed to call emotion.
Kurisu: « What? Did you think I was just some bloodthirsty, sadistic demon because of what I did at the castle? »
A silence. He paused, his predatory smile widening.
Kurisu: « Well, know that you are absolutely right. But I know when to stop. To build what comes next. »
His gaze settled on Reinhard.
The Sword Saint held that gaze without blinking. A few seconds passed — two people measuring each other without weapons, just with the weight of who they respectively are, and arriving at similar conclusions through different paths.
Kurisu: « So, Reinhard. What do you think of it now? »
Reinhard: « You do not represent a threat. At least, not for the moment. And you do not seem to act against the deep interests of the kingdom. »
Kurisu tilted his head slightly, as if giving him the floor.
Kurisu: « And so? »
Reinhard lowered his eyes for a fraction of a second — a rare gesture for him — with something resembling a very discreet smile, almost despite himself.
Reinhard: « I will therefore speak to the Council. To declare that I, Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint, consider Mister Kurisu to be a mere "passing anomaly"... For now. »
Kurisu looked at him for a second. Then nodded with quiet satisfaction.
Kurisu: « Not bad. Well, the clock is ticking. I'll leave you, I have business to attend to. »
He stood up, snapped his hands together.
And vanished.
Simply. Without transition, without effect, without the slightest displacement of air. He was there, and in the next fraction of a second, the space he occupied was empty.
The silence that remained was of a particular density — the kind one feels when something immense has just passed and one isn't yet certain of having understood what it was.
How far did this man's strength extend?
No one in this room could answer that.
....
A few days passed.
The Karsten estate continued to function with its habitual rigor—its punctual servants, its clean hallways, its duchess who never seemed to sleep. Life at the estate was regulated like a Swiss clock—and Kurisu, who came and went according to a logic that no one could anticipate, constituted the only variable that Crusch did not know how to integrate into her calculations.
That morning, precisely, she had something else to settle.
The duchess's office was sober and functional, mirroring its owner. No superfluous decoration, rows of documents filed with military precision, two armchairs facing the dark wood desk, and behind that desk, Crusch Karsten herself, standing with her hands crossed behind her back.
Facing her, also standing: Natsuki Subaru. And at his side, Rem—silent, her eyes fixed on Subaru with a particular focus, like someone watching over something they are ready to catch even before it falls.
Felix stood a bit further back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
The conversation was not a joyful one.
Crusch: « As I explained to you, Subaru. If you leave this estate of your own initiative, you break the contract made with Emilia. From that moment on, I am no longer bound to protect you or treat you. And the moment you cross those gates, Emilia and I become rivals for the royal candidacy once again. »
She didn't say this to hurt him. She said it because it was true, and she was someone who preferred uncomfortable truths over comfortable illusions.
Subaru listened. His gaze was fixed on a point slightly above Crusch's shoulder, where the void of assembling thoughts lies. He knew what Rem had told him. He knew that time was playing against him. And he knew—he knew—that Kurisu had disappeared after sending him to the estate without leaving a word.
« You only have yourself. So. »
He took a deep breath, swallowing his fear.
Subaru: « So be it. Thank you for everything you've done for me. But I will rejoin Emilia, whatever the cost. »
Felix pushed off the wall.
Felix: « I think you have it all wrong. »
Crusch: « Felix— »
Felix: « No, Crusch-sama, let me. His mistake is too grave to let pass without saying anything. »
He stepped forward, and his gaze fell upon Subaru with something that looked like anger, but which Subaru—who had learned to look behind faces—did not mistake for it. It wasn't hate. It was fear dressed up as anger, because fear was harder to admit.
Felix: « Even if you leave, nothing will change. You would be wasting your time. After what happened at the castle, do you still not realize it? If it hadn't been for the intervention of that man in white, it would have been much worse. And now you want to head back with a broken mana gate and skills that are bottom-tier?! »
Subaru did not answer immediately.
Not because he had nothing to say. But because he was searching for what lay behind Felix's words—and what he saw was someone who was afraid of losing something they could not name.
« It isn't against me that he's speaking. It's against something he cannot control. »
But before he could open his mouth to defend his determination, the air in the room suddenly turned glacial.
A voice dropped into the room with the casualness of someone pushing open a door they didn't even need to unlock.
Kurisu: « Regarding the gate... I can fix that. »
Everyone froze.
Rem was the first to react—not with her hands, not with words. With her senses. The scent that had just settled into the room was unlike anything she knew. It wasn't the Witch's miasma, that dense and recognizable stench she associated with the Cult, with threats, with everything that deserved to be destroyed.
It was something else. Something older and more vast, like the smell of the air just before the weather turns—an absence so complete that it ended up feeling heavy. Emptiness made presence.
Her hand moved a millimeter toward her morning star.
It stopped.
« For Subaru. » she told herself.
« Stay calm. For him. »
Kurisu had placed his arm around Subaru's shoulders with the slightly exasperating familiarity of an older brother who always appears at the worst possible moment.
Subaru: « Kurisu?! Where have you been all this time?! »
Kurisu: « I had things to do. But when I hear that my apprentice is about to head into battle with a gate in shambles... I deem it time to intervene. »
Crusch stared at him, perplexed.
Felix: « Nyah... What do you mean? »
Kurisu: « Like I said, I'm going to heal his gate. »
Felix stepped forward, a barely contained irritation vibrating in his every gesture.
Felix: « What do you mean by "fix that"? Even I, the most competent healer in the kingdom, cannot repair a mana gate in a few minutes. Do you think yourself capable of doing that with a snap of your fingers?! As if it were some triviality? »
Kurisu did not answer. He simply turned his head toward him, looked at him for a second, and that silence was a complete answer in itself.
Then he placed his hand on Subaru's chest.
No incantation. No invocation. Just a hand placed there, and a few seconds later, a light—not blinding, not spectacular, something more discreet than that, a glow that came from within and pierced the surface like heat through thin glass.
For Subaru, it was different.
It was as if something he hadn't known was broken had suddenly regained its shape. No pain—the opposite. A sensation of space where there had been constriction, like a room where the walls are suddenly pushed back and you realize it was much larger than you thought.
The mana circulated differently. More freely. With a fluidity that wasn't there before, and something more besides—a depth he couldn't name but felt as a silent certainty.
« I am different. » he thought.
The light faded.
Kurisu turned away from Subaru and looked at Felix.
Kurisu: « There. You can check, cat. »
Felix: « Nyah, I don't believe a word of it... »
But he stepped forward anyway. Because Felix was Felix, and Felix needed to know—even when he didn't want to know. He placed two fingers on Subaru's wrist, closed his eyes, and did what he had done instinctively since he was a child: he listened.
The silence lasted ten seconds.
Felix backed away.
He truly backed away—two full steps, his legs not entirely cooperating, and on his face was something that had nothing to do with hostility. His eyes were wide open, and his hands—the most competent healing hands in all the kingdom—were trembling slightly.
Felix: « It's... it's... »
Crusch: « What is it, Felix? What did you see? »
Felix did not answer immediately. His gaze turned toward Kurisu, and for the first time since he had entered this room, there was something other than anger in his eyes.
Something that looked like stupor, or what one feels when a fundamental rule of the universe has just behaved differently than it is supposed to.
He grabbed Kurisu's collar. Or tried to—his fingers found nothing to grasp, sliding over something that was not flesh and not fabric and that he did not know how to name.
Felix: « What have you done? »
Kurisu gently pushed him back.
Kurisu: « I repaired his gate. »
Felix: « No! How—how can his gate be even larger and more powerful than before?! This isn't a repair, it's... it's impossible. A gate doesn't expand while rebuilding itself. That's not how it works. The laws of mana don't allow that! »
The word impossible fell into the room and no one picked it up.
Crusch looked at Subaru. Then looked at Kurisu. Then looked at Subaru. And in this back-and-forth of gazes, her commander and strategist's mind did exactly what it had always done: it calculated.
« If this boy's gate is more powerful than before... If Kurisu can do this... » she thought.
« Then what he said about "ensuring Subaru is treated correctly" wasn't a mere justification. It was an investment. And someone who invests in this way has a specific objective. »
She filed this thought away carefully. She would speak to Wilhelm about it later.
Rem, for her part, hadn't moved since Kurisu had placed his hand on Subaru. She had watched him do it. She had watched Subaru react—that subtle shift in his shoulders, in the way he held his own body, like someone who had just found a support they had been seeking for a long time.
And something within her, beneath the instinct of visceral mistrust that the smell of this man never failed to trigger, had noted this without her permission.
« He did him good... once again. »
She didn't know what to do with this information.
She kept it in silence.
Kurisu turned away from Felix, scanning the room with a brief glance.
Kurisu: « There. Everything is settled. Subaru, get ready. »
The late morning sun had found the courage to truly show itself. The ground dragon harnessed to the carriage snorted through its nostrils, impatient, and Rem was finishing the luggage preparations with the methodical precision she brought to everything she did.
Kurisu stopped next to Subaru.
Kurisu: « Subaru. »
Subaru turned around. Something in the tone—not grave, not serious, just... different from the usual—made him truly look at Kurisu rather than just hear him.
Kurisu: « Be careful. »
Subaru turned toward him, sincerely surprised by the almost serious tone of his voice.
Subaru: « Why are you saying that all of a sudden? »
Kurisu: « You're going alone. I wish you good luck. »
Subaru: « What? You aren't coming with me? »
Kurisu laughed. The kind of laugh that wasn't mocking but didn't pretend to be warm either.
Kurisu: « Kekekeke... I told you, kid, I like to have fun. So of course I won't come to help you! I gave you a nice master's gift by upgrading your mana gate. For the rest... figure it out. If I solve all your problems, where's the entertainment? »
Subaru turned away, offended, one foot already on the carriage step.
Subaru: « Tss. I don't care! No matter what happens, I'll protect Emilia with or without you! »
Kurisu watched him leave, hands in his pockets. He sighed.
« Despite everything he's been through, his naivety remains intact... I'll have to wait a little longer for that famous moment. »
As Subaru climbed into the carriage and Rem took the reins, Kurisu looked him straight in the eyes. The mocking smile had vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute coldness.
Kurisu: « Subaru. One last piece of advice. »
The boy's head appeared through the window, his gaze attentive despite himself.
Kurisu: « You are going to suffer. »
It wasn't a threat. It was an established fact, pronounced with the clinical tone of a doctor announcing an incurable disease.
The carriage rolled away. Subaru disappeared down the straight line of the path, and the sound of the wheels gradually receded until it was nothing more than a murmur on the cobblestones.
Subaru sat in the cabin, arms crossed, staring into space.
« Of course... he's still a fucking sadist. How could I forget? »
He kept those words anyway. He stored them somewhere in his chest, not too far from the surface, where one keeps things worth thinking about.
Despite his repaired gate, he took this warning terribly seriously, his stomach knotting at the approach of the storm.
Kurisu, for his part, looked up at the sky.
His gaze focused on a precise point—high up, somewhere between the clouds and the air, where no one else at the estate would have seen anything at all.
Kurisu: « Do you see, dear readers? »
His smile split his face once more.
Kurisu: « I hope you don't feel I've been too kind to him. Don't worry... The real Arc 3 begins now. And with it, its share of despair, death, and absolute madness. »
He paused, letting the air hang for a second.
Kurisu: « Kekekeke... I can't wait. »
The scene closed on the Karsten estate, peaceful in appearance, and on that man in white whose smile—the last visible detail before the image faded into the backdrop of the day—promised things that no one, in any of the worlds he had crossed, could have described as reasonable.
The man in white snapped his fingers, and the wind carried away his laughter, marking the official beginning of an act that would change the world of Re:Zero forever, under the amused eye of its greatest disruptor.