Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I
I can’t
I can’t anymore.
I just can’t take it anymore.
Please
End this already
Satella...

At that moment, the only thoughts of the young man from another world were that everything should end. Three months had passed since his torment began… well, five months from everyone else’s perspective, because for him it had been around two years. Although in truth he no longer knew; he had lost count since death number 386.

It all began when the damned Archbishop of Gluttony swallowed his name. It happened after the incident in Priestella. The Witch Cult had attacked the city.

Greed, Wrath, Lust and Gluttony.

They all unleashed chaos in the City of Water, causing death and destruction. But thanks to the efforts of Subaru Natsuki and the allied camps, they managed to repel them. Not only did they drive most of them off, they killed Regulus Corneas and captured Sirius.

Unfortunately, they did not come out of the battle unscathed. Crusch Karsten was infected by dragon blood in the fight against Capella, and Julius lost his name. It was not a clean victory.

After the battle ended, they worked on rebuilding the city. Subaru wondered why, every time his life seemed to be getting better, the world managed to take everything away. He had been through so much. Dying at the hands of enemies, of allies, even of himself… it was a hell only he knew.

He quickly pushed those thoughts aside. There were still things to do. He wanted to see his dear Emilia and his adorable Beako.

He was walking toward where they were when everything went to hell.

Before he could react, he was attacked by Roy. Subaru tried to defend himself using his whip. He put up a fight. He even managed to wound Roy’s eye. But it wasn’t enough.

In a moment of carelessness, Roy devoured his name.

“See you, Tsu. Thanks for the meal,” Roy said before disappearing.

Subaru was left confused, not understanding what had just happened. He ran to where his allies were to warn them that an Archbishop was in the city. If they could capture him, maybe they could save Rem… but then an explosion rocked everything.

Subaru ran toward the explosion site, worried for Emilia and Beatrice. He saw a figure retreating into the shadows. He couldn’t identify them, but he was certain it was an Archbishop.

He couldn’t waste time. He found Emilia and Beatrice, and felt relief… he needed to regroup with them to find out what happened and make sure they were alright.

BIG MISTAKE

Beatrice attacked him without thinking. Accusing him of being a cultist, because of the scent he’d always had.

Subaru understood then: Roy had devoured his name. No one knew who he was anymore.

He tried to explain himself. He said he was Emilia’s knight, her contractor. But no one believed him. Beatrice shouted at him to stop saying nonsense. That Emilia was her contractor. Subaru felt himself break inside.

They called him the Archbishop of Pride. They accused him of the chaos. They even said he had caused the explosion himself.

He remembered the figure he had seen. Capella… was she impersonating him?

He tried to explain. No one listened. He was surrounded by his former allies: Garfiel, Wilhelm, Julius, Beatrice… even Emilia. That look of contempt is what killed him first.

He tried to kill himself to reset. To fix it. But Garfiel knocked him out with a single blow.

He woke up in a cell. Chained at the arms, legs and neck. He bit his tongue to die. To reset.

But when he woke up… he was still in the same cell. Chained. Imprisoned.

He tried ten times. Ten suicides. Ten failures.

He screamed. He cried. He cursed.

Days passed. He still hoped someone would believe him.

The first to visit him was Felix. He no longer smiled like before. He had a psychopathic grin. Subaru explained what had happened. That he was innocent. That they were comrades.

“You’re Pride, right?” Felix asked in an eerie voice.

“No! I’m not! I’m Subaru Natsuki! We fought together! The White Whale! Petelgeuse!”

Felix didn’t listen.

“We’ll do this the easy way or the hard way… Miss Crusch is suffering because of Capella. If you don’t give me a cure…”

He left. He returned with a tray. Medical instruments. Hammers. Knives.

Just seeing that tray, Subaru knew what would come if he didn’t answer what Felix wanted.

“Then tell me how to cure her,” Felix said in a tone that sent chills down his spine.

Subaru knew that if he told him he could cure her by touching her and absorbing her blood, Felix would refuse. So he stayed silent.

Felix took this as a sign that he wouldn’t cooperate — not willingly, at least.

“I told you,” he said, with a chilling smile. “I’ll do it the hard way.”

And that was the beginning of hell.

Felix tortured him. He tore out his eyes. He broke his teeth. He burned his nerves. He crushed bones.

Subaru, through tears, told him the only solution was to absorb the contaminated blood… Felix exploded in rage.

“You son of a bitch! I will never let you touch my lady!”

More pain. More fire. More screams. Felix healed him in the end. So he wouldn’t die. So they could continue tomorrow.

He tried to bring Reinhard so he could verify the truth, but he had gone on a mission far away and would not return for a long time.

Then Emilia and Beatrice came. Subaru pleaded. He spoke of the Sanctuary, of Arlam Village, of Elsa, of the Whale. No one believed him.

Beatrice broke the contract in his face. She called him sick.

The next day Garfiel, Otto and Ram arrived. Subaru didn’t get a word out.

“How do you undo the effect of Gluttony!” Garfiel shouted.

Subaru tried to explain. He was struck with a blow that shattered his jaw. He mentioned Rem. Ram strangled him against the wall.

“Don’t you ever say her name again, bastard!” she spat. Another blow. Vomit. Blood.

The days passed. Each one worse than the last. Felix kept torturing him. The guards beat him for fun.

He was cut. Humiliated. Abused. Spat upon.

He died many times. He always returned to the same cell. The same despair.

Each night, amid sobs, he begged:

“Satella… let me die…”

Satella cried; she didn’t want this to happen. She had summoned him to that world so he could kill her and be happy — she didn’t want to see him suffer anymore. But Envy wouldn’t let him go. She would not release him.

Finally, after so many years locked in a prison only he knew…

The last death came.

Satella finally managed to make Envy see the truth: if she truly loved Subaru Natsuki, she had to let him die.

They dragged him out of his cell. The body was nothing but bone and scars. Hair white. A vacant stare. Not a trace of the Subaru who once smiled.

They dragged him to the scaffold. The crowd greeted him with boos, insults and thrown refuse.

Subaru laughed. A dry laugh.

“I saved you… all of you…” he murmured while they prepared him for execution.

Before leaving this world he couldn’t help thinking of one person, Rem — that girl he had promised to save, a promise he had not been able to keep.

In that moment a tear rolled down his face as everyone booed and called him Pride. Subaru said his last words — “I’m sorry, Rem.”

The rope was tightened, the trap activated, and his body was hanged.

Minutes passed and the boos subsided, there was silence, there was death.

Subaru Natsuki… died forever.

—

Hours later…

A morgue. Dark. Silent.

The door opened. A man with a serene, almost unsettling gait entered without haste. He did not stand out. Plain clothes. Dark hair.

Only one thing made him unsettling: a scar on his forehead, stitched with thread.

He stopped in front of the fallen hero’s body.

He looked at it with a smile.

“What an interesting body…” he whispered. “You don’t often find a soul so… broken.”

“I think I’ll have a lot of fun with you… hero.”

Chapter Text

"You… really made me laugh."
Those were the last words Kenjaku spoke before everything began to fall apart.

The ancient sorcerer had just faced someone completely different from the enemies he had fought in a thousand years. Someone who did not seek victory, nor revenge, nor glory. Someone who only wanted to make others laugh. Fumihiko Takaba, the cursed clown, a sorcerer born in the Culling Game, a player from whom he expected nothing—and he could not have been more wrong—had surprised him in a way even he had not expected.

Kenjaku felt… happy.
An absurd, naive happiness. As if, for a moment, the weight of centuries disappeared.

But the joy would not last.
Kenjaku felt something. A shadow. A change in the atmosphere. A presence with an enormous amount of cursed energy.

His instinct, sharp and hardened by countless battles, alerted him barely a second before it happened.
—"What…?"—was all he managed to say.

A flash. The air sliced without making a sound. A blink, and it was over.

Kenjaku’s head was cleanly severed from his body. His vision darkened, but not his thoughts. He could still hear.

A young man stood before him, sword in hand: Yuta Okkotsu.
Special-grade sorcerer.
Student of Satoru Gojo.
Bearer of the Copy technique.
Descendant of the Fujiwara Clan.

Kenjaku hadn’t sensed him. How is that possible, if Okkotsu has such an enormous amount of cursed energy? he thought as his head fell heavily to the ground. So much cursed energy… and I couldn’t detect it?

And then, he saw Takaba still lying on the ground with a smile and understood what had happened.
—"This was your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it?"—he asked the special-grade sorcerer.

—"Yes, because Takaba refused to kill anyone"—the boy answered with seriousness. The man before him had caused the Shibuya Incident, had taken the lives of countless innocents, and thanks to him and his schemes, his sensei—the person who had saved his life and given him a reason to live—was dead.
He was determined to kill him once and for all.

Kenjaku smiled, even now. An ironic, sad smile.
—"I see… what a shame. I really adored this body. Well, in this case, I have no choice."

In one last act of vengeance, his corpse began to convulse. As if his soul—or what remained of it—triggered one final resource.

And then it happened.
Thousands, no, millions of curses erupted from the lifeless body, like an explosion of living darkness. Each one more grotesque than the last. Some were fragments of humans fused with animals. Others had no faces, yet they cried. Some crawled with blades, others seemed to pray.

Yuta instinctively stepped back, but he was not alone. Rika appeared at his side as an imposing force and shielded him with her body.
—"Exorcise them all!"—ordered the young sorcerer.

The battle was brutal. Every curse tried to claim the world, the air, the space. The sky turned purple, the ground cracked, and nearby buildings were destroyed by the force of their emanations. Yet Yuta and Rika, in perfect synchrony, annihilated them one by one.

When it all ended, only silence remained.
A calm broken by one single terrifying realization.
—"His head…"—murmured Yuta.

Kenjaku’s head was gone. Not a trace remained.

Yuta clenched his teeth in anger. He had the chance. He could have put an end to it all… and he had wasted it.
—"Damn it!"—he shouted, punching the ground. Cracks spread out like spiderwebs.

In the middle of his frustration, Yuta glimpsed something in the sky: a flash of cursed energy heading toward the uninhabited area of Shinjuku.

Master Tengen’s body.

At that moment Yuta understood. Kenjaku had entrusted the will to activate assimilation to Sukuna, so that Yuta would have no choice but to let him go while he dealt with the King of Curses. And Yuta knew very well that Kenjaku was confident Sukuna would kill them all and fulfill his master plan.

Yuta wanted to chase him, but he couldn’t. If Kenjaku could no longer activate assimilation, then the main objective was Sukuna.
—"I don’t have time for regrets"—the sorcerer said, looking toward the horizon with determination—. "If Kashimo has already fallen, that means Itadori and Higuruma are fighting Sukuna. They need my help."

Yuta turned. His aura burned, his resolve unshakable.
—"Kenjaku may have escaped… but not for long."

And with no other option, Yuta went to help his fellow sorcerers.

Later that day, the strongest sorcerer in history would be defeated.

--------------One week later--------------

A week had passed since the decisive battle in Shinjuku.
Kenjaku gazed into emptiness from the shadow of an abandoned cabin. His new body—a makeshift puppet taken from a sorcerer of no name or glory—ached in every fiber. Not from damage, but from failure.

Disappointment.
It was the only thing he felt.

So many years of manipulation, of chaining wills, of sacrificing even the most loyal. And all… for nothing.

Sukuna, the King of Curses.
Had been killed by Yuji Itadori. His own son and creation had thwarted his plans. A brutal irony he had not foreseen.

And now, all the pillars of his plan were dead.
Mahito, Jogo, Hanami, Dagon, Uraume, Sukuna… were gone.

And Kenjaku was alone.
The last loose end.

Assimilation could still be activated through Megumi Fushiguro, but he was sure they would protect him knowing Kenjaku was still out there. And at this moment, though still powerful, he knew he would lose against them.

He knew that Yuta Okkotsu, Kinji Hakari, Maki Zenin, or even Yuji Itadori himself would not rest until they hunted him down.

It seemed everything was over for him.

But… he still had one option.
One he had avoided for years.
One he hated.

Many years ago, during his research into rare cursed techniques, he had encountered a sorcerer who possessed a unique technique:
Traveling between spiritually connected alternate worlds.

The body was already dead, of course, but the technique…
The technique lived within Kenjaku.

Out of sheer curiosity, he had used the ability and crossed the veil.
He had arrived in a different world.

A world seen only in children’s tales.
A world of knights, kings, and dragons.
A world without cursed energy. Without techniques. Without curses.

But with something even stranger: Divine Protections.

At first, he thought they would be the cornerstone of that system. But his excitement faded when he encountered the ridiculousness of many of them.
“A divine protection to distinguish salt from sugar…”
“Another to count daily steps…”

Kenjaku joked to himself that the next one would be something like:
“A divine protection to know what clothes to wear on Sundays.”

Despite the absurdity, he discovered something far more disturbing.
Dark powers called Authorities, stemming from an ancient cult:
The Witch’s Cult.

And at the center of that cult, an entity that had once devoured half the world:
Satella, the Witch of Envy.

For the first time, Kenjaku felt chills.
The Authorities were fascinating, yes, but destructive. Those who used them paid the price with their own sanity.

Not like cursed energy, which at least did not strip away reason, he thought proudly.

During his stay, he met a gallery of characters… eccentric, to say the least:
A witch with the appearance of a child who despised him from their first meeting.
An unbearable, detestable man who wouldn’t stop talking about his rights like a lawyer.
A hungry group, literally and figuratively, repeating their hunger like a mantra.
A nearly naked blonde who called everyone “meat bags.”
A green lunatic who spoke of love while slamming himself against walls.
A dragged-out mummy that followed him like a loyal dog.
And a man so proud, so irritatingly obnoxious, that even Kenjaku felt secondhand embarrassment.

They called themselves archbishops of sin, each representing a deadly sin.

Greed
Gluttony
Lust
Sloth
Wrath
And Pride

Apparently, no one possessed the title of Envy, as the authority of Envy remains in the possession of the Witch of Envy, ,which currently, from what he investigated, she is locked up and sealed in a distant place.

Apparently, these factors could be obtained as long as the user was killed, and one also had to be compatible with the authority, otherwise, one would end up going mad. In fact, it seemed that whoever possessed the Sloth factor had suffered from this, because of everyone, he seemed to be the one who did the most. Besides, how could you possibly be considered Sloth if you were the one who worked the hardest? Well, that was the reason why that guy was hitting himself with everything, pulling out his nails and hair, and yelling for work. Anyway.

And their leader... was at least curious, a girl of apparent young age dressed only in a sheet that did not leave much to the imagination, she possessed the Vainglory factor, giving her the ability to alter reality or so he assumed when he saw what she was capable of doing, apparently there was also the authority of Melancholy but the current user is unknown.

Except for the loli witch—whom he came to respect for her tenacity—he avoided getting too involved.

He even considered including them in his game in Japan.
He even thought about how they might interact with Hajime Kashimo, Ryu Ishigori, Takako Uro, or Angel.
But no.
They were too unstable, even for him, not to mention unbearably idiotic.

Especially that idiot who never stopped talking. Seriously, if it weren't for the fact that he's untouchable, I would have killed him right then. Now that he's thinking about it, why does it seem like to be untouchable, you have to have white hair?

Mmmmm, he supposed it was something that comes with being the strongest.

He spent five years there, exploring, investigating, watching the possibilities…
And in the end, he grew bored.

He returned to his world.
And continued his plan.

But now… now there was no escape.
It was return… or die.

Kenjaku looked at his hands. This body was barely useful, but the technique was still there, pulsing at his core. He didn’t like the idea, but he had no other choice. It would be temporary, at least until he formed a new plan.

He sighed.
Opened the portal.
And without looking back…
Returned to that world.

--------------Four days later--------------

Kenjaku walked through the cobbled streets of Priestella, wrapped in a dark cloak that hid his identity. He had spent the last few days wandering the city, gathering information. He learned the city had recently been attacked by that group of lunatics he despised, but they had been repelled by the local heroes. He also discovered a few interesting details.

The world wasn’t exactly as he remembered it.
The government of the city had changed: the noble family that once held power had perished from a sudden, unknown illness.
—“Genetics,”—Kenjaku deduced upon hearing the rumors—“Probably hereditary degeneration.”
He wasn’t interested in digging deeper.

Another thing he learned about caught his attention.
Reinhard Van Astrea.
The Sword Saint and the strongest of the present age.

Apparently, the boy had an immense number of Divine Protections. Someone like that could cause Kenjaku serious problems. If he were to cross paths with him, he’d be finished—just like with Satoru Gojo. He would have to take measures to repel him without direct confrontation.

The last piece of news caught his attention even more.
Some of the most annoying characters he remembered… were dead.
The green lunatic who spoke of love, the loudmouth obsessed with human rights, and that arrogant man who believed the world revolved around him…
Dead.

A subtle smile appeared on his face.
—“Perhaps I should thank whoever killed them,”—he muttered sarcastically.

But his thoughts were interrupted by a commotion.
A crowd had gathered in a nearby plaza, shouting and shoving. Curious, Kenjaku cautiously approached, staying in the shadows.

What he saw intrigued him.
A young man with white hair, dirty, beaten, with clothes in tatters, was being dragged toward a gallows. His eyes were clouded, but not with fear…
But with deep confusion.

Around him, the crowd shouted with hatred.
—“They’re finally going to finish off that bastard Pride!”
—“Yes! Did you hear what he said when they arrested him? ‘I’m innocent,’ ‘Gluttony ate my name,’ ‘I’m Lady Emilia’s knight!’ Pfff! Ridiculous!”

Kenjaku frowned.
Pride?
That didn’t make sense. That individual had died years ago… hadn’t he?

His eyes focused on the young man intently.
Unlike the lunatics he had met in this world, this boy did not seem deranged.
There were no traces of arrogance, no mystical delusions in his words.
Only despair.
Confusion.
And pain.

Kenjaku narrowed his eyes.
He knew well the power of Gluttony, that Authority capable of devouring names, memories, and essence.

That boy was telling the truth.
They were executing an innocent.
A forgotten hero.

Kenjaku let out a small laugh.
Human stupidity never ceased to amaze him.

The young man was executed in a matter of minutes.
His body fell lifeless.
The crowd cheered.
And no one seemed to notice the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Kenjaku, of course, did notice.
And in it… he saw an opportunity.
Even though the body didn't look very strong, something inside him told him that the boy's body could be more useful than it appeared.

He followed the guards transporting the body to a provisional crypt. He waited.
When they left, he entered silently.

There, lying on a stone slab, was the young man.
The one who had once been a knight who saved thousands of lives.
The one who clung to an identity the world had forgotten.

Kenjaku approached.
His fingers brushed the still fresh neck.
He could feel it.
A broken soul.
An empty vessel.
But… with a trace of fire within.

He smiled with satisfaction.
—"What an interesting body…"—he whispered—“You don’t often find a soul so… broken.”

He passed a hand over the corpse’s forehead, feeling that this body could offer something interesting.
—"I think I’ll have a lot of fun with you… hero."

Chapter Text

—————————BASE OF THE WITCH CULT—————————

Somewhere in Gusteko, three months had already passed since the death of Subaru Natsuki.
What remained of the Witch Cult had gathered. The surviving members — Roy, Lye, and Capella — had been summoned for reasons unknown. If anyone else had issued such a request, they would have ignored it or even killed the messenger. But the caller this time was different, and they could not refuse.

While Capella amused herself by punishing one of her “children,” turning him into a shapeless mass of flesh and bone, the Gula brothers chatted animatedly about what they had done to the hero of Priestella.

—“I have to admit,” Roy said with a twisted smile, “I’ve never been so satisfied devouring a name: the hero of Priestella, Subaru Natsuki.”
—“Ugh, you’re so full of yourself~Tsu,” the other brother said, sounding a little jealous.
—“I managed to eat three names in that attack: Joshua Juukulius, Julius Juukulius, and Subaru Natsuki. But you only managed to tear memories or names from a few guards and nobodies.”
—“Well,” Roy shrugged, “eating is eating.”

Bored, Capella had finished her punishment but did not look satisfied. She was about to find an excuse to torture her daughter Melty — perhaps turn her into a transparent, viscous blob.
At that moment, a voice interrupted the relative calm.

—“You all seem far too calm, given the circumstances.”

The voice was sweet, but disturbing. The power behind those words was impossible to ignore. It belonged to the leader of the Witch Cult: the Witch of Vainglory, Pandora.

Pandora appeared: short, with silver hair and blue eyes that radiated a chilling smile. The cult members immediately stopped and paid attention.

—“At this moment,” she said in a cold, calculating tone, “we have the advantage more than ever. We may have lost the Archbishops of Sloth and Greed these past months. But now it’s different. Before, things would have been more complicated with Subaru Natsuki getting in our way… but now, now the scales tip in our favor.”

Lye, curious, asked:
—“Hey, why did you order all that? I know he killed the Whale, Petelgeuse, the Rabbit and that idiot Regulus… but for you to order something like that is strange. I think the only times you intervened directly were with the previous Sword Saint and in that damned forest.”

Pandora smiled with that blend of melancholy and menace.
—“It’s something you would never understand.”

They all looked at each other, confused.
—“Eh—” the Archbishops said in unison.

—“His love, his love for them, was so great that it posed a threat to my plans. I must admit he was admirable. I even would have liked him to be part of our group as an Archbishop. I imagined him burning down the entire capital, facing Reinhard, proclaiming himself Archbishop of Pride.”

The three archbishops exchanged puzzled looks. Pandora continued:
—“But not everything is possible in this life. So what we will do is—”

—“Seems the common mistake of strong people is not getting rid of corpses with potential, right, Pandora?”

Before she could finish, a familiar voice rang out from the darkness.

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. From the shadows emerged a figure they all recognized. He was the killer of the Archbishops of Sloth and Greed. The one who had finished off the White Whale and the Great Rabbit. The hero of Priestella: Subaru Natsuki.

Wearing his usual tracksuit and a triumphant smile, Subaru stood before them. The most disturbing thing was that he bore no wounds. The torture marks had vanished, and the only thing left was his white hair, the result of accumulated stress.

Roy, Lye and Capella looked at each other, confused and worried.
Pandora kept smiling, but she was genuinely puzzled. From afar she had seen him executed — how could he still be alive?

Subaru watched them with an expression of satisfaction that didn’t match the boy they knew.

Roy was the first to speak, stunned.
—“You! How is this possible? We literally saw you die!”

Subaru kept smiling.
—“Believe me, death isn’t new to me,” he said calmly. “In fact, I’ve lost count.”

Pandora studied him, more attentive by the moment, until she finally understood what was happening.
—“Well… long time no see, Kenjaku.”

The archbishops exchanged surprised looks.
—“Kenjaku?” they asked in unison.

Suddenly, “Subaru Natsuki” let out a small chuckle:
Ha.
A little more,
HAHAHA.
A bit more,
HAHAHAHAHAHA.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The intensity of that laughter kept growing — and growing — until it became a monstrous, inhuman roar that echoed through the base.

Suddenly, “Subaru” began laughing like a lunatic: a long, uncontrolled laugh with a clearly inhuman tone. Then he calmed, and with a casual movement he brushed his hair aside to reveal a huge scar. With precise motions he undid the stitches holding his skull and lifted the top of his head, revealing a brain… with a mouth inside.

—“Wow, Pandora, you caught on quickly,” he said. His smile turned even more twisted. “I guess some connections can’t be forgotten, huh?”

The archbishops tensed. Unease became palpable. Pandora still smiled, but now her expression was openly hostile.

—“I suppose I never forget my enemies.”

The archbishops glanced at each other awkwardly. It was odd to hear that from Pandora: she didn’t have enemies — not because she was diplomatic, but because her enemies tended to end up dead. For her to say that meant the man before them was genuinely dangerous.

Pandora continued calmly.
—“I suppose if you’re here… it’s because your Culling Games failed, isn’t it?”

Kenjaku put the top of his skull back on as if it were nothing.
—“Yes, I admit it,” he said with a relaxed smile. “Sukuna’s vessel turned out stronger than expected. The brat with the Mimicry technique… brilliant. He used my technique after consuming part of my previous body to manipulate Satoru Gojo’s corpse. Ingenious, isn’t it?”

He paused.
—“And also, it seems I underestimated some of the players to whom I myself gave techniques. Tragic irony.” He sighed theatrically.
—“Oh, and let’s not forget Sukuna’s arrogance… again. He hated his vessel, but damn — seriously, he underestimated him despite having the potential to match him? Ahhh. With that guy, nothing changes.”

His tone was casual, like someone talking about a party that went wrong.
—“But oh well,” he continued, “at least I’m still alive. That’s more than many can say. And you, Pandora? You look… happy. Is it because Subaru Natsuki is finally dead?”

Pandora nodded softly.
—“You assume correctly. So you’ll know my opinion now that you possess his body. Of all the corpses you could have chosen… why that one?”

Kenjaku chuckled softly, as if the question amused him.
—“Curiosity, I suppose. But when I dove into his mind… I didn’t regret it for a second.” His tone grew excited. “That boy… he was broken into a thousand layers. Tragedy after tragedy, frustrated love, constant fear… I had never seen anything like it; not even Yuji Itadori suffered as many tragedies as this guy. He was pure chaos, distilled into human form. And believe me, I’ve had many bodies, many memories. Many. But this one… this one is special.”

Roy and Lye’s eyes opened wide. Their unease was replaced by ravenous gluttony, a brutal hunger.

Before they could say more, both lunged at Kenjaku, intending to devour his memories and his name. But before they could do anything, an overwhelming force slammed them to the ground.

They were pinned to the floor as if the weight of the universe itself held them down. Unable to move even an inch.

Kenjaku had used Kaori Itadori’s Inversion Technique — Anti-Gravity System; even in a different body, he still retained that ability along with Suguru Geto’s Cursed Spirit Manipulation.

Capella, about to intervene, stopped. A cruel smile crept across her face. She had to admit this was entertaining. She had always despised the Gula brothers with their monologues about hunger. Though she still wanted to turn that man into an amorphous mass.

Pandora watched with her smile intact, though the tension in the air was obvious. Hostility remained.

The Gula brothers tried to free themselves, but it was useless. Kenjaku looked at them with an expression of cold satisfaction.

—“Did you really think you could steal my memories?” he asked with contempt. “Pathetic lizards. I am not a mere sorcerer. I am the legacy of a thousand years of evolution. If you thought you could touch me… you understood nothing.”

He turned to Pandora.
—“Do you not care that your lackeys are dying?”

Pandora answered with absolute indifference.
—“I intended for them to die anyway. But if you would do me the favor… I would be grateful.”

Kenjaku smiled even more.
—“Oh, how efficient. You’ve always been like that, huh? Practical. Lethal. Admirable, in a way.”

He turned toward the brothers, who were already gasping under the pressure.
—“Alright, vermin. It’s time for you to learn what cursed energy really is.”

A crack resonated in the air. Then a blast.
BOOM!

The force that oppressed them stopped. Roy, exhausted, turned toward his brother — only to see a horrifying scene. Lye had been reduced to a simple stain on the floor. Totally destroyed.

Capella couldn’t contain herself.
—“That doesn’t even qualify as a meat sack anymore!” she scoffed between laughs. “NOW IT’S A DISGUSTING, PATHETIC STAIN!”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

She burst into hysterical laughter.

Mad with grief for his brother’s death, Roy lunged at Kenjaku once more. But before he could get close, a massive worm-like creature sprang from the sorcerer’s hand. The curse trapped Roy, immobilizing him instantly.

Kenjaku watched calmly, almost with disdain.
—“I suppose you’ve never seen this. A Special Grade Curse. There are so many… and this one is one of my favorites.”

He leaned in a little closer.
—“You said you like to eat? Well… let’s see how it feels when you are the one being eaten. Goodbye.”

Roy tried to speak, but it was in vain. The creature began devouring him slowly. His screams faded, absorbed by the cursed flesh. The only sounds left were the curse feeding… and Capella’s constant laughter.

Pandora, who had said nothing the whole time, finally spoke.
—“Tell me… I suppose you didn’t come only to kill. Murder isn’t what motivates you.”

Kenjaku shrugged with a smile.
—“I suppose I was curious.”

Pandora regarded him intently.
—“I think I know what you mean… but say it.”

Kenjaku looked at her with a twisted expression.
—“Curiosity to see how this rotten country collapses once they learn their greatest hero has been killed.”

Chapter Text

On the floor, inside a Witch Cult base, there were two corpses. Those bodies belonged to the Archbishops of Gluttony, Roy and Lye — they had just been murdered by someone wearing the same face as the person they had once condemned to a horrible hell.

Pandora kept observing Kenjaku with her typically calm yet disturbingly serene smile. Kenjaku, for his part, returned the smile with an identical expression, though the tension between them was so thick it could have been cut with scissors.

Capella, unable to contain herself, threw one of her usual vulgar comments:
—So, are you two gonna kiss, fuck, or what? Because I can feel way too much tension in the air… and I’m not sure it’s exactly sexual tension.

Both turned their heads at the same time to look at her. Capella, for once, thought that maybe speaking hadn’t been a good idea, and decided to stay quiet… for now.
However, curiosity proved stronger than her self-control. Though she didn’t bring up sex again, she did allow herself a question:
—So… who’s this sack of meat? —she said, pointing at Kenjaku with her usual disdain—. Pandora, you seem to know him. Was he an Archbishop before us or something?

Pandora, without changing her expression, replied in a serene tone:
—He’s an acquaintance from long ago. And no, he wasn’t an Archbishop. In fact, I once invited him in the past… but he firmly refused.

Kenjaku narrowed his eyes with a lazy smile and said:
—HA… not a chance I’d ever join your shitty cult. You all wield a kind of madness that even for me is… way too hard to stomach. Besides, most of you are unbearable — and that’s coming from someone who’s had to deal with all kinds of sorcerers and curses. Like that guy, Regulus… damn, he never shut up. Always ranting about his rights, as if that waste of air deserved anything. What an idiot. The only thing worth a damn about him was his Authority… a power that could rival the Six Eyes. Wasted on someone so pathetic. What a disaster.

—What the hell are you talking about, sack of meat? —Capella shot back, frowning.
Kenjaku sighed, visibly annoyed:
—You’re still calling people “sack of meat”? Wow, looks like you haven’t changed at all, brat. How stupid. You sound like a spoiled teenage girl with a god complex.

Capella clicked her tongue, furious:
—How dare you insult this beautiful lady?! I’ll show you your place, you rotten sack of meat!
She lunged at him without thinking… but before she could even touch him, Kenjaku activated the same technique he’d used against the Gluttony brothers. Capella’s body was slammed violently against the ground, reduced to a grotesque, sticky smear.

Kenjaku looked at her with curiosity.
—It would’ve been more fun if you had died right there. But of course… you’re the annoying exception to the rules.
In his mind, Kenjaku couldn’t help but think: I’ll have to be careful with this brat. With Mahito, I had the advantage of knowing his weakness was his soul… but with this one, things are different.

Slowly, Capella’s body began to regenerate, her flesh twisting back into its original form. Furious, she screamed:
—You damn son of a…!

Before she could finish, she was slammed down again. Then again. And again. The scene repeated about seven times.

Finally, regenerated once more, Capella roared — exhausted and enraged:
—DAMN BASTARD, I’M GOING TO—!
Pandora intervened, softly, yet with a tone that could freeze blood:
—Archbishop of Lust… I believe you should stop interrupting such an important conversation.
Capella tensed. She feared almost nothing… but if there was one person she could never defy, it was Pandora. She lowered her gaze, swallowing her words.

Even so, she couldn’t resist asking one more question:
—Then, who are you… and why do you seem to know me?
Kenjaku smiled, amused.
—Well, you don’t remember me because back then I had another face… but I remember you. I avoided getting too involved with you people. I had too many things to research, too many experiments to conduct… too many players to recruit in this world.
He shrugged.
—Though in the end, I didn’t recruit anyone from here. Which is good. Would’ve been a waste of resources.

—What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean “another world”? —Capella asked, more confused by the second.

Kenjaku tilted his head with a childlike grin.
—Didn’t you know? Both I and the body I’m possessing come from another world. Mine is much more advanced in many ways. Though… some things never change. Like human stupidity, for example. That seems to be universal.
Capella was about to ask something else, but Pandora spoke again:
—Answer one question for me. What are your intentions… now that you possess the body of Subaru Natsuki?

Kenjaku stayed thoughtful for a moment, then replied calmly:
—I don’t know, honestly. I have several options… but I haven’t decided yet. What I do know is that this body has given me many fascinating possibilities.
He stretched his arms as if waking from a nap.
—Anyway, I suppose my plans might interfere with yours… or not. I don’t really care. I’ll do my thing… we’ll see what happens.
He turned around, unhurriedly.
—Anyway… I’ll be going now. Take care, by the way —you should put something else on, that sheet shows everything.

Just as Kenjaku was turning to leave, a crack began to open in the air. The tearing sound of space itself made everyone freeze for a moment. Kenjaku, slightly confused, slowly turned his head to observe the phenomenon.

From that rift emerged a small figure: a blonde-haired girl with a fierce expression, her sharp teeth immediately reminding him of the idiots he had just erased from existence.
Kenjaku frowned and muttered, annoyed:
—Oh, come on… seriously? Another one?

The girl was none other than Rui Arneb, the third Archbishop of the Witch Cult, the younger sister of the Gluttony twins. Rui, disoriented, turned her head in all directions. She had lost her mental link with her brothers… and when she finally saw them, her eyes widened with fury and disbelief: one lay reduced to a shapeless stain on the floor, and of the other, only the lower half of his head remained.
And in front of them… that man. The one who should be dead. Smiling as if nothing had happened.

Rage clouded her judgment. Rui didn’t wait a second longer and charged at him — but before she could reach her target, a gigantic fly-shaped creature intercepted her. The curse slammed into her and trapped her between its legs. Rui kicked, growled, and struggled with all her strength, but it was impossible to break free.

Kenjaku slowly approached, hands in his pockets, his usual smile painted on his face.
—So… you were their sister?

Rui answered with a growl full of hatred.
—Well, not anymore —he continued indifferently—. Honestly, I could kill you right now, just like I did them… but for some reason, you’ve caught my attention. So I’ll let you live… for now.
The curse released the girl, who fell to her knees but quickly stood again. The man had already turned away, walking off as if nothing had happened. Rui, still trembling with rage, sprinted toward him with all her might. She didn’t care about his power, his technique, or Pandora’s warnings. She only wanted revenge.

But then she felt it.

A sharp, explosive pain in her chest.
The killer of her brothers stood before her once more. Suddenly, a searing pain pierced her chest as what looked like black and red lightning erupted from it. The last thing she heard was a single word, filled with power:

BLACK FLASH

The hit was brutal. Her body was launched several meters away, crashing into the nearby ruins. Rui hit the ground completely unconscious.

Kenjaku, of course, only smiled as always. Capella watched with curiosity, intrigued by that black and red energy that had emanated from the boy’s body just before the impact. In fact, another thing that intrigued her about this sack of meat was a strange aura — similar to the miasma any cultist would emit, yet somehow… different.

On the cracked marble floor of the abandoned cathedral, Kenjaku stopped walking. Behind him, the mangled body of the last Archbishop of Gluttony still twitched faintly — a pathetic reflex, nothing more.
Something clicked inside his head. This body was already compatible with multiple Authorities… and his collection was far from complete.

A smirk crept across his face.
He turned back toward Rui Arneb’s unconscious form.
—You know what? —he murmured, his tone almost amused— I’ve changed my mind.
From the shadows beneath his robe, one of the many curses he had kept sealed began to stir. The air around him distorted as the entity emerged, hungry and eager. Without hesitation, Kenjaku released it. The curse slithered across the floor like living tar and latched onto Rui’s body, devouring him piece by piece.

Capella, who had been watching in disbelief, finally broke her silence.
—Wait, are we seriously letting that sack of meat keep his Authority? —she snapped, glaring at Pandora.

Pandora didn’t even flinch. Her smile remained perfectly serene — too serene.
—I think this might actually benefit us, Capella. So, let him do what he wants.

Capella’s lips twisted in irritation. That “sack of meat” had insulted her, destroyed her body more times than she could count. Every part of her wanted to twist him into something hideous, to make him suffer for hours, to make him beg.
But with Pandora’s words hanging in the air, all she could do was stand there, trembling with restrained hatred, and watch as Rui’s body was consumed by pure gluttony.

When it was over, Kenjaku straightened up, brushing invisible dust from his hands. Something inside him pulsed — something new and dark.
He took a slow breath, feeling the Authority settle within him like a second heartbeat.
—A new power… — In his mind he said to himself — Perfect. Another experiment waiting to happen.
And with that same cruel smile, Kenjaku turned and walked away.

Pandora, meanwhile, maintained her sinister smile, still unblinking, still composed.
—I suppose our paths will cross again, Kenjaku.

He didn’t take long to answer.
—Count on it. And if I were you… I’d enjoy the coming days while you still can. I have a feeling things among that fool candidates are about to fall apart.
And with that, Kenjaku left — leaving behind a scene of ruin, death… and expectation.

—————————Miload Mansion—————————

The day was calm. The sun shone brighter than ever, and the flowers bloomed with life. In one of the mansion’s rooms, a silver-haired half-elf brushed her hair in front of a mirror. Beside her, an adorable great spirit quietly flipped through a book. Despite the peaceful scene, both were lost in thought.

Since the attack on Priestella, their relationship hadn’t been the same. Even when they tried to reach the Pleiades Watchtower to find a cure for those affected by the Authorities of Gluttony and Lust, their bond felt strained. Although they had signed a contract after the Sanctuary events, something had broken between them. Maybe it was the pressure of recent events… or maybe something else. But whatever it was, it was there — it could be felt.

That silence was suddenly shattered by desperate sobs echoing through the mansion halls. Emilia stood up immediately, her face filled with worry. Beatrice, as always, followed her.
They reached the source of the sound: a dark, secluded room. The room of a blue-haired girl… the same one who had been devoured by Gluttony — someone they didn’t even know how had come to be there. And there she was. Awake.

Ram was holding her tightly, apologizing again and again, her voice trembling with guilt. —Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me…—

Soon Otto, Garfiel, Frederica, Meili, and Petra arrived. All stood in silence, frozen by the sight. Slowly, memories began to return. Memories that had been erased — blurry at first, but real.

—Sister… what’s going on? —Rem asked, confused.
Emilia, still trembling, answered quietly:
—Gluttony… Gluttony ate your name, Rem. You’ve been in a coma for over a year…

Rem froze.
A year?
Had she lost an entire year of her life… because of that monster?
But eventually, she calmed down. At least she was back. She was alive.
—I’m glad to be back —she said with a small smile.
—We’re glad too, Rem —Emilia replied, returning a warm smile.

Rem looked at her sister, who still couldn’t stop crying.
—Sister… you don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.
—Ram missed you… so much —Ram murmured, hugging her even tighter.

The scene was moving. Everyone in the room felt the warmth of that reunion.
Despite everything, Rem was happy to be back. Looking around the room, she saw familiar and new faces alike… but something was missing. Someone.

Rem noticed her hero wasn’t there. It struck her as odd, but she assumed he must be somewhere doing something kind — something her hero would do.
Rem couldn’t help but smile, yet curiosity got the better of her, and she asked:
—Hey… where’s Subaru-kun?

The air grew heavy. All the joy, all the warmth… vanished as if it had never been there.
Everyone looked at each other. Confused. Uncertain.
Subaru?
Why was she asking about a Witch Cult Archbishop?

But then, like a needle piercing through the mind, the forgotten memories began to return.

The Loot House.
The village attack.
The battle against the White Whale.
The fall of Sloth.
The Sanctuary.
The burning mansion.
The speech in Priestella.
The fall of Greed
In all those memories… there was a figure.
A person.

Someone who had saved them.
Someone they had forgotten.
Someone they had betrayed.

Subaru Natsuki.
And with the memories came the guilt.
They remembered how they had treated him when his name disappeared. They remembered how they pushed him aside. They remembered how they had abandoned him, letting him rot in a cell while he begged for mercy.

And now they understood — they were the monsters.
They remembered.
One by one, they began to collapse.

Everyone, except Rem, Frederica, Petra, and Meili.
Terrified, Rem asked:
—Wh-what… happened to my hero?

Silence.

No one answered. They were all too broken to even speak.

Until Beatrice screamed, her voice torn by anguish:
—WHAT HAVE I DONE…!?

—WHAT HAVE I DONE…!?

Chapter Text

After the collapse of Emilia’s camp members, Petra, Frederica, Meili, and Rem exchanged confused looks. None of them understood what had just happened… until, little by little, they too began to remember.

Petra remembered how Subaru Natsuki had saved her multiple times, being the reason she decided to work in the Mathers mansion.

Frederica remembered how Subaru Natsuki had saved the Sanctuary and helped her brother move forward.

Meili remembered how Subaru Natsuki had been complicit in her sister’s death, and how, despite having every right to kill her, he chose to take her in at the Miload Mansion.

Memories they never knew they had lost came flooding back. And then, the truth hit them like lightning: Subaru hadn’t returned since he left for Priestella. They didn’t know what had happened to him—or why they had forgotten him.

With a trembling voice, Petra asked:
—Hey… where’s Subaru?

No one knew what to say. Those who had been in Priestella knew what they had done—what they had done to their knight, their contractor, their friend, their captain, their little brother… what they had done.

Before anyone could answer, the door burst open. Roswaal stormed into the room, disheveled, with deep bags under his eyes and a vacant expression. He had clearly neglected his body—and his mind.
All that time without Subaru, he had lost his purpose. Subaru was his greatest card, the key to reviving his beloved teacher. Thanks to Gluttony, that key had been lost. But now, now he remembered everything. And with that, despair—mixed with a flicker of hope—returned to his gaze.
—Where is Subaru Natsuki? —he asked, his tone sending chills down everyone’s spine.

Silence reigned. Some were still in shock; others hadn’t yet grasped the full weight of what was happening.

Beatrice’s voice broke the tension.
—I… I abandoned him —she murmured with guilt.

Rem, still processing the name that felt so important and familiar, looked at her in alarm.
—What do you mean you abandoned him? What did you do?
Beatrice lowered her gaze and began to recount what had happened in Priestella: the Witch Cult’s attack, Gluttony’s appearance, the confusion when a “Subaru” appeared claiming to be the Archbishop of Pride and started attacking, destroying the building they were in; how they had attacked him when he tried to explain the truth; how he had begged them desperately to listen… and how they had handed him over to the knights.
The room fell into a deafening silence.

Those who had been there thought that if they had acted more logically and intelligently, all of that could have been avoided. But no. That’s not how things went.
Rem said nothing. She only clenched her fists. A thirst for blood burned in her chest. She looked at those who had been there with hatred: Emilia, Beatrice, Otto, Garfiel… even her own sister, whom she could only look at with contempt, knowing she had done something unforgivable to someone who didn’t deserve it.
But inside her, one thought weighed heavier than any rage.

—WE HAVE TO GO GET SUBARU-KUN! I WON’T LET MY HERO ROT IN A CELL FOR EVEN ONE MORE MINUTE! —she declared with determination.
No one answered.

Roswaal noticed something in that silence. That silence he didn’t like at all—it meant they knew something. He frowned.
—Do you know something that we don’t?

Otto, barely able to stand, was the only one who managed to speak.
—I…
Otto couldn’t even finish his sentence. A letter had arrived at the mansion some time ago: news about the Archbishop of Pride. He hadn’t told anyone, thinking it was unimportant. Besides, the topic always brought discomfort to the camp.
But now that he knew the truth, he realized he could never redeem himself. He could never ask for forgiveness. He could never face his friend again.
—I received a letter a few months ago… saying that the Archbishop of Pride… Subaru Natsuki… had been executed.

The news hit like a bucket of ice water.

Everyone’s faces went blank upon hearing the truth. And finally, they broke.

Emilia couldn’t lift her head; she collapsed to the ground, complicit in the death of her knight.
Beatrice shattered completely; she had condemned her contractor with her own hands.
Garfiel injured his hands out of sheer frustration.
Otto couldn’t find words, only tears.
Ram, despite her pride, couldn’t help but shed a tear for someone she considered family.
Petra cried on the floor, held by Frederica.
Meili lowered her head, feeling a knot in her stomach.
Roswaal… his world simply collapsed.
And Rem… she simply refused to accept it.
Her hero.
The man she loved.
Was dead.
Betrayed by those who swore to protect him.
Executed by a kingdom he had done so much for.

The silence was broken by an outburst of fury.

Rem grabbed Beatrice by the neck and slammed her against the wall.
—IT’S YOUR FAULT HE’S DEAD!

Everyone reacted, trying to pull her away. Roswaal, without a word, drained Rem’s mana until she fell unconscious.
Without saying anything else, he left the room.
Without Subaru Natsuki… he could never revive his beloved teacher.
Before leaving, he muttered in a low voice—words that everyone still managed to hear:
—Idiots… all of you are idiots. You ruined everything…

And he wasn’t the only one who needed time.

Everyone there had to face the weight of what they had done.

Their knight, their love, their contractor, their friend… was dead.

Night fell, but no one slept.

Later, in the mansion’s meeting room, Emilia, Otto, Ram, Beatrice, and Garfiel were gathered, discussing what to do next.
The rest were dealing with their own grief. Petra was still crying, and Frederica had taken her away to try to comfort her, though she knew it would be useless—the pain was too great. Meili had been returned to her cell, Roswaal had locked himself in his office, and Rem remained unconscious. The rest of the staff, like Clind and Sylphy, had been informed of what happened and told not to interrupt.
They were supposed to discuss their next steps, but no one could say anything—whether from sorrow or from guilt.

Emilia could only cry, remembering what she had done to her knight: the person who never judged her for resembling the Witch of Envy, the one who always supported her, always saved her, always loved her.
And her? How did she repay all his dedication, effort, and love? By accusing him of being an Archbishop and handing him over to the knights.
At that moment, she felt like a true witch—the worst the kingdom had ever known. A traitor and a fool.
Sometimes, when she was in the Elior Forest with Puck, she used to think about it; but now it was clear: if she had never been born, the world would have been better off. Maybe there wouldn’t have been so many Witch Cult attacks. If she had never existed… Subaru would still be alive. Maybe even Mother Fortuna would still be alive.
But that wasn’t the case.
Her knight, the man she loved, was dead. All because of her uselessness and naivety. Emilia simply wanted to disappear from this world.

Beatrice said nothing. She no longer cried; she merely existed. She had betrayed her contractor—the person who pulled her out of that library where she had been confined—and she had discarded him like trash.
Even though a “Subaru Natsuki” had attacked them, she could have detected—through his mana or his gate—that he wasn’t the same person, that he wasn’t an Archbishop. But she hadn’t.
The Great Spirit of Yin, with 400 years of accumulated knowledge and the wisdom inherited from the Witch of Greed, had been a fool.
A fool who had committed an unforgivable sin and condemned her own contractor to death.
At that moment, Beatrice considered locking herself away again in a rotten library for another 400 years—or even more—to atone for her sins. She felt she didn’t deserve to be saved by anyone, that she deserved to be alone for the rest of her life, and even then, it felt like too light a punishment for what she had done.

Otto felt miserable. He had lost his best friend—the one who had saved him from being a slave to debt. He felt useless, stupid, a traitor.
He couldn’t forget watching Garfiel beat him mercilessly in his cell while he stood there, doing nothing.
At that time, he had felt disturbed by the violence, but not compassionate toward the supposed Archbishop.
Now, all he felt was disgust.
Disgust at himself for not doing anything.
He was even considering leaving the camp and returning to his old life. There was nothing left in that mansion worth staying for.
The reason for his loyalty to the camp… had been Subaru Natsuki.
And he was dead.

Garfiel wanted to be angry at everyone: at the Archbishop of Gluttony who had devoured his captain’s name, at the Archbishop of Lust who had impersonated him, at the knights who had tortured and executed him.
But above all, he was furious with himself.
He hadn’t protected his captain when his role was to be his shield. He had knocked him out when he tried to explain himself. He had beaten him mercilessly for information he didn’t have.
He no longer saw himself as a shield, nor as someone amazing or strong.
Just a despicable being who had betrayed the person who helped him see the truth, who pushed him forward, and who saved his home.
In that moment, he wished he had never been saved. He even thought he should never have been born, because his existence had only brought suffering to the people he cared about.

Ram, for her part, didn’t show it on her face—but inside, she was shattered.
For some time, she had known she had a sister who looked like her, one who had fallen victim to the Authority of Gluttony, a sister she couldn’t remember how she’d met.
But now she remembered—she remembered how she was the most important person in her life… and she also remembered the boy who had saved and restored her memories.
And she remembered perfectly what she had done to him the last time she saw him: she had strangled him nearly to death, beaten him, blaming him for what had happened to her sister.
Now, remembering all that, she just wanted to collapse.
She had tortured an innocent boy—someone who, despite his teasing words, she considered family and trusted.
And now that boy was dead.
She wanted to cry knowing her last memory of him was torturing and cursing him.
Ram wished it was all just a nightmare, but it wasn’t.

Her thoughts were interrupted when they heard the door open.

It was Rem.

She still had trouble walking, after spending over a year in a coma, but rage alone was enough to keep her on her feet.
She looked at each of the responsible ones, and in her gaze there was only hatred. Hatred for what they had done to the love of her life—to her hero.
Ram, sadly, tried to speak:
—Rem… I…
Rem looked at her with an expression Ram never thought she’d see directed at her.
Ram said nothing more.

Rem spoke coldly:
—You know? Before I fell into a coma, before fighting the White Whale… Subaru-kun asked me to run away with him.

Everyone looked at her with grim and shocked faces. That was a secret only Beatrice knew, because Subaru had told her.

Rem continued:
—He wanted to run away, to another place, because he didn’t believe in himself… because he thought he was pathetic. But even though it was tempting to run away with my hero… I refused.
Tears began streaming down her face.
—I told him not to give up, that I believed in him, that he was my hero. At the time, I thought I had done the right thing. After that… you all know what happened. Subaru-kun organized the expedition against the White Whale and the Witch Cult, but now…

Rem screamed with a fury that made everyone step back:
—YOU KNOW WHAT?!
NOW… I REGRET IT!
I REGRET NOT TAKING HIS HAND, NOT RUNNING AWAY WITH HIM, NOT BUILDING A FAMILY TOGETHER!
IF WE HAD RUN AWAY, HE… HE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!
YOU KILLED HIM! YOU BETRAYED HIM! HE SAVED YOU ALL, AND HOW DID YOU REPAY HIM?! BY CALLING HIM A MONSTER! BUT THE REAL MONSTERS… ARE YOU!

Rem stopped. No one said a word. They all knew she was right.
Maybe they really were monsters.

Rem continued, her voice trembling:
—Maybe… we should’ve let you all die at the hands of the Cult… at least he’d still be alive.

Emilia didn’t know what to say.
Rem was right.
If Subaru had run away, he would’ve been happy. But no—he stayed, saved them, and she never returned his feelings, despite promising him an answer.
They all thought the same thing.
Maybe they deserved to die a horrible death—for the unforgivable sin they had committed.

Before the discussion could continue, loud knocks on the door interrupted the moment.
Ram went to open it.
In front of her, several knights stood waiting, their faces dark, their expressions foretelling even darker times ahead.
—The Council of Sages has requested the presence of Emilia’s camp —one of them said—. We must discuss an urgent matter… related to the knight Subaru Natsuki.

Chapter Text

The council chamber was filled with murmurs and tense faces. Nobles, knights, candidates, and their allies were gathered —all wearing somber expressions… at best. At worst, some looked on the verge of collapse.

After the death of the Archbishop of Gluttony and the nullification of his authority, memories had returned. One by one, they began to remember the boy who had changed the kingdom’s fate —Subaru Natsuki. The same young man who had humiliated himself publicly during the Royal Selection, only to later lead the expedition against the White Whale and the Archbishop of Sloth, achieving victory in both battles. The same one who, with the help of the Great Spirit of Yin, defeated the Great Rabbit, and later defended Priestella from the Witch Cult’s assault, even slaying the Archbishop of Greed.
And then, they also remembered what came after.

His accusation.
His execution.
The false conviction as the Archbishop of Pride.

With the weight of those memories, the Council of Sages summoned all nobles, knights, and the five royal candidates to decide how to proceed amid the looming crisis. No one wanted the kingdom to fall into chaos… though it was already too late.

In the streets of the capital and in Priestella, the citizens too had remembered the Hero of Priestella. They remembered him with tears and fury. Protests soon erupted, crying out for justice for the one who had been unjustly executed.

In the council hall, the five candidates waited —gathered together for the first time since that fateful day. The air was heavy, thick with tension and guilt.

On Emilia’s camp stood Beatrice, Otto, Garfiel, Roswaal, Rem, Ram, and the candidate herself. None could hide their grief. Some showed sorrow; others, suppressed rage.
Rem had come for one reason only: to demand justice for the hero who had saved her life.
Roswaal, on the other hand, attended because he had no choice; he was the court magician and Emilia’s sponsor. Yet deep inside, his desire to keep playing that role had crumbled. Since Subaru’s death, he had wanted to abandon everything —to cast aside his support for the candidate.
Only one thing kept him standing: stubbornness.
That obstinacy that made him believe that if Emilia won the selection, he might still find a way to revive his teacher. It was a fragile hope, a fraying thread —but it was the only thing keeping him from the abyss.
Because if all those years of effort had been for nothing… then what was the point of living anymore?

From Crusch’s camp were Wilhelm, Felix, and Crusch herself.
After Gluttony’s death, Crusch recovered all her memories. For a brief moment she felt like herself again. Of course, her body was still ravaged by dragon’s blood, but the Valkyrie spirit burned within her.
That clarity didn’t last long. Among the memories that returned were those of the boy who had organized the expedition against the White Whale and who had taken upon himself part of the dragon’s blood to protect her. She also remembered how her knight had said he was interrogating the Archbishop of Pride to obtain a cure for her condition… and then she heard that that boy had been executed.
It didn’t take long for her to connect the dots. Her breath broke and tears streamed uncontrollably. She cried for the hero who had been destroyed unjustly.
Their sobs were interrupted by a commotion in the corridor — familiar voices and screams. Minutes later, Wilhelm burst in furious, dragging Felix by the hair; Felix begged for forgiveness through his tears.
—“CRUSCH-SAMA!” Wilhelm growled, eyes burning with hatred. “ALLOW ME TO EXECUTE HIM RIGHT HERE!”
Felix wept, unable to meet his mistress’s gaze, repeating apologies over and over. Crusch stood motionless, her heart shattered. Felix was her knight, her friend — someone in whom she had placed her trust. But she also knew what he had done. He had tortured someone who did not deserve it, a hero who had saved them all.
—“Release him, Wilhelm,” she ordered in a broken but steady voice. “Justice will deal with him.”
Wilhelm obeyed reluctantly. He let go of Felix, who collapsed to his knees, wounded and weeping.
Since that night, silence had taken hold of the Karsten manor. Crusch could not sleep. Her mind was haunted by Subaru Natsuki’s image — the hero who had suffered because of her knight.
Wilhelm, despite following his lady’s command, could not stop looking at Felix with murderous eyes. Felix had tortured the boy he respected, the one who had helped him avenge his beloved. In that moment, Wilhelm van Astrea hated Felix Argyle with the same intensity he had once felt toward the White Whale.
And Felix… oh, Felix was an empty shell. Since the effect of Gluttony faded, he could not stop thinking about what he had done to a hero, to someone he might once have called a friend. He had believed he was doing the right thing because he was an archbishop — but he had been wrong. Subaru Natsuki was not a monster.
The monster was Felix Argyle.
And now he would face the consequences of his actions.

From Felt’s camp were Ezzo, the Old Rom, Reinhard, and Felt herself.
Felt was furious. Furious at the Archbishops and the cultists, furious at the knights, furious at Emilia’s camp, furious at the whole damn nation. Until recently she had believed that her elder sister and Reinhard had saved her from the Intestine Hunter; that changed when she saw her knight clutching his head as he tried to process the returning memories. She didn’t understand what was happening until Reinhard mentioned Subaru Natsuki.
Then she remembered. That annoying, reckless boy with a stupid grin and an indomitable will… he was the reason she was alive.
—“How…?” she whispered, trembling. “Why did I forget him?”
She demanded explanations, and Reinhard, with hollow eyes, told her everything that had happened. When he finished, Felt could not believe it. Her big brother was dead. Not at the hands of cultists or mabeasts, but by the kingdom’s own knights.
The cry he let out made the camp tremble.
"I'LL MAKE THEM PAY! EVERYONE!" he shouted angrily, glaring at the "fucking cat" who had tortured his big brother.
While Felt burned with rage, Reinhard drowned in his own pain. When Subaru’s memories returned, his mind should have collapsed — and perhaps it did inwardly — but his divine protections steadied him. They did not comfort him; they only made the burden clear.
He recalled hearing that an Archbishop had attacked Emilia’s group and then pleaded his innocence afterward. He had dismissed it as the delirium of a defeated enemy — he had seen the same sort of thing before when confronting Regulus Corneas. But then he remembered that boy who had fought beside him, who, despite his power, treated him kindly and like a person, and he realized the name of the Archbishop of Pride who had been executed was Subaru Natsuki.
A man Reinhard considered a friend had died, and Reinhard had done nothing to save him. He already knew what it meant to be a monster — he had learned it the day he killed his grandmother — but now it hit him harder than ever. He had failed again. He had not protected his friend. That friend was dead.
In that moment Reinhard van Astrea considered himself the worst human being: a monstrous, useless creature. He could not stop asking himself the question that tormented him:
“Why was I chosen by Od? Why was I made the Sword Saint?”
Subaru Natsuki…
you were the one who deserved that title, not me.

From Anastasia’s camp were Ricardo, Julius, and the candidate herself.
Anastasia didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, she remembered her knight, who had lost his name at the hands of the Archbishop of Gluttony. Remembering Julius again filled her with relief and happiness. She also remembered Joshua Juukulius, her beloved assistant, and for a moment she thought everything was returning to normal.
But the joy didn’t last long. Among the memories that returned was also the name of another person: Subaru Natsuki. And as soon as she remembered him, she understood that nothing would ever be the same.
She knew what had happened to him, and she fully understood what his death meant.
Although they weren’t close —their relationship had been purely business— she couldn’t help but feel compassion for that boy. And even more, she thought of the consequences this would bring. Her camp wouldn’t be the most affected, but she knew they would pay part of the price. She would have to remain firm, strong. Not out of pride, but because she had no other choice.
Meanwhile, Julius remained silent, lost in his thoughts.
Yesterday, he had regained his name, something that filled him with hope: he could finally become the knight he once was, regain the trust of his people. But that joy was overshadowed when he remembered his brother. He felt pathetic, weak, for not having protected him… for having forgotten him.
Even so, Julius Juukulius was a knight, and knights do not break. He made a vow: he would become stronger so that something like this would never happen again.
But when he remembered Subaru Natsuki, shame consumed him.
He was there when they arrested him.
He was complicit.
The “Perfect Knight” had been complicit in the arrest of an innocent man.
He also remembered when Felix offered to help interrogate the so-called “Archbishop of Pride” to extract information. Julius had been tempted —he desperately wanted to regain his name. But in the end, he refused. However, he allowed Felix to act on his own.
And thus, he allowed Felix to torture Subaru.
That decision —that cowardice— would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Why didn’t I stop him…?” he whispered, clenching his fists.
He knew that omission had cost the life of a friend. And nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever redeem him.
Ricardo, for his part, was deeply disgusted by the entire situation. He had come to respect Subaru Natsuki greatly, especially after seeing him face the White Whale and the Archbishop of Sloth.
He respected him even more when he saw him in Priestella, rallying all the camps with his speech and courage, leading the city’s defense against the Witch Cult.
When he learned what they had done to him, he felt sick.
He knew how captured cultists were treated… and he knew perfectly well what Subaru must have suffered in that cell.
Old Ricardo couldn’t help but feel both sadness and disgust.
Sadness for the hero who was no longer there…
and disgust for the men who condemned him.

From Priscilla’s camp were Schult, Heinkel, Aldebaran, and the princess herself.
After the attack on Priestella, Priscilla had disappeared for months to attend to conflicts in Vollachia. There had been difficulties, there had been losses, but as always, luck and glory leaned in her favor. Everything turned out well, as it should for the Princess of the Sun.
When she was summoned to the council, she didn’t understand why. What matter could possibly be important enough to steal part of her precious time?
Only when they explained what had happened did she understand.
For the first time in a long while, Priscilla Barielle was furious.
Not out of compassion, but out of pure disdain.
How could they be so idiotic? How dare this kingdom execute the very person who had saved Priestella from destruction?
Human stupidity was more offensive than death itself.
Truth be told, Subaru Natsuki’s loss didn’t move her deeply. She couldn’t deny that the commoner had been interesting and… entertaining. She remembered how he appeared in Priestella, leading the camps and bringing about the death of Greed and the capture of Wrath. Some said she had met him before, during the royal selection, but she didn’t remember.
Even so, she couldn’t deny that his audacity had fascinated her.
Now, seeing them all in that room —downcast, regretful, trembling— Priscilla couldn’t help but smile. She would enjoy watching those inferior beings wallow in their misery like dogs without a master.
Aldebaran, on the other hand, felt something completely different.
Relief.
Long ago, he had been ordered to eliminate Subaru Natsuki if he ever appeared.
But when he met him… he couldn’t do it. He had found a new purpose serving Priscilla Barielle, and for a time, he forgot his mission.
When he regained his memories, he finally understood why.
Gluttony had stolen the boy’s name—and with it, his mission.
And when he learned of his death, he didn’t feel sadness, but a strange emptiness… and then, relief.
“I suppose in the end… there was nothing left to fix,” he murmured.
If Subaru had died, it meant his purpose in this world had come to an end.
There was no longer a destiny to alter, nor a cycle to repeat.
Aldebaran could only move forward, enjoying the rest of his life beneath the scorching light of his princess.

While everyone was lost in their own thoughts, the captain of the knights, Marcos, made an announcement:
—“Attention! The Council of Sages has arrived!”

The sages entered the hall, all wearing grim expressions. The kingdom had supposedly been enjoying a streak of good fortune lately: the deaths of two great mabeasts, the fall of three archbishops, and the capture of another… only for it to be revealed that one of them wasn’t an archbishop at all — he was the boy who had accomplished all of that.

They sat before the candidates, knights, and nobles, everyone waiting anxiously to hear what would happen now that the truth had come to light. Miklotov McMahon was the first to speak:
—“I assume everyone here knows the reason for this meeting.”

No one answered; there was no sound except a few quiet sobs. The sage continued:
—“Now that the truth has been revealed, we are aware of the grave mistake committed against a great knight.”

At those words, Emilia couldn’t hold back a tear. She couldn’t take it anymore; she wanted this to be a nightmare, wanted to wake up and find Subaru joking around with Beatrice. But this wasn’t a fairy tale — this was reality.

Miklotov went on:
—“As you all know, Subaru Natsuki was arrested a few months ago under the belief that he was the Archbishop of Pride, after a ‘Subaru Natsuki’ —who is now believed to have been the Archbishop of Lust in disguise— attacked the royal candidates. He was imprisoned and interrogated for information regarding the Witch Cult.”

Rem could barely contain her fury. She already knew what kind of “interrogation” they meant — it wasn’t questioning, it was torture. Torture that her hero did not deserve. She was tempted to draw her weapon and strike down those responsible, but she knew it would be useless; the Sword Saint would intervene. So she held back her rage… for now.

Miklotov continued, his voice heavy:
—“Unfortunately, he never possessed such information, and months later, he was executed.”

No one spoke. Each word was another reminder of their sins. The sage Bordeaux was next to speak:
—“We are gathered here today to inform you of how we shall proceed.”

Everyone could guess what was coming. Surely Felix and the knights involved would be imprisoned or executed. At that point, Felix had already accepted his fate; most likely he would die — perhaps burned, and not before being tortured. Deep down, he accepted it. He knew that what he had done were the acts of a monster.

Finally, Bordeaux declared:
—“It is hereby officially declared that Subaru Natsuki was, in fact, the Archbishop of Pride, who infiltrated our ranks — and that the only reason he slew mabeasts and archbishops alike was out of hatred toward them!”

The room fell silent.

Everyone was in shock.

The Emilia’s camp, silent.
The Crusch’s camp, silent.
The Felt’s camp, silent.
The Anastasia’s camp, silent.
The Priscilla’s camp, silent.
The nobles, silent.
The knights, silent.
Even Captain Marcos stood wide-eyed; he could imagine many things — but not this. Not this nonsense!

No one spoke. No one dared say a word. They were still processing what they had just heard.

And after a few seconds, someone finally broke the silence.

—“HOW DARE YOU?!” Rem shouted, completely enraged. “AFTER ARRESTING HIM, AFTER TORTURING HIM, AFTER MURDERING HIM, YOU DARE SMEAR HIS NAME?! YOU DARE COMPARE HIM TO THOSE MONSTERS?! YOU DARE DESECRATE HIS MEMORY, HIS HONOR?! SUBARU-KUN WASN’T AN ARCHBISHOP, HE WAS A HERO! FAR MORE OF A HERO THAN ANY OF YOU FOOLS COULD HOPE TO BE!”

Rem couldn’t believe it. Even in death, her hero was being treated like garbage. She didn’t wait another second — she drew her morning star, ready to strike down the old man. Before she could take a step, Reinhard stepped in front of her.
—“Miss Rem, please, put down your weapon!”

Rem, unable to hide her rage, spat back bitterly:
—“SO YOU’RE EFFICIENT WHEN IT COMES TO PROTECTING TRAITORS! WHY WEREN’T YOU EFFICIENT WHEN MY HERO NEEDED YOU?”

The words stabbed Reinhard like a knife to the heart. She was right. Why was he never there when he was needed? Why couldn’t he save anyone? Even so, he couldn’t allow more death. Not again. Never again.

Bordeaux exploded:
—“HOW DARE YOU THREATEN A MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL OF SAGES?!”

Miklotov sighed — the weary sigh of a man who had witnessed human folly too many times. He knew this was a terrible idea. Tarnishing the image of a young man who had done nothing but good was an act of betrayal. He was firmly against such absurdity, but the majority of the council had already agreed to the measure. Sadly, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

While everyone debated, Reinhard insisted again:
—Please, Miss Rem, I do not want you to—

He was interrupted when he felt an intense amount of mana gather around Emilia. She truly tried to hold herself back, but after hearing that nonsense she could no longer contain herself.
—I… I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO DEFAME MY KNIGHT! —Emilia burst out.

Beatrice joined the protest as well:
—I WILL NOT LET THE IMAGE OF MY CONTRACTOR BE RUINED, I SUPPOSE! —she shouted, her voice breaking.

Garfiel was ready to lunge:
—BASTARD, REPENT FOR WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT MY CAPTAIN BEFORE I RIP OUT YOUR TONGUE! —he bellowed, prepared to attack.

And then all the camps began to protest. Otto couldn’t hold back:
—Council of Sages, please reconsider this! This makes no sense!

Wilhelm raised his voice for the young man he respected:
—Do you realize you’re tarnishing the image of a young man who erased calamities and saved thousands of lives?! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE DISGRACE!

Felt, unable to hold back, exploded at the council:
—SONS OF BITCHES! YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS TO SAVE YOUR OWN DAMN ASSES! DAMN COWARDS!

Julius intervened, trembling but firm:
—As a knight, I cannot allow the honor of someone I respected to be unjustly sullied. If I may, sages, this is not sensible. I beg you to reconsider: Subaru Natsuki’s memory does not deserve this.

Crusch, her voice broken, also demanded:
—Council of Sages, please! This is madness! Subaru Natsuki has saved thousands of people. Doing this to him would be a complete lack of honor.

Ricardo, with evident disgust, added:
—Listen… the boy did great things, worthy of respect. Do you really think people will swallow the claim that he was an archbishop?

Priscilla couldn’t help mocking the idea:
—Was that really what you came up with? Accuse him of being an archbishop to justify what happened? What a foolish idea, worthy of useless old men!

Roswaal, despite everything he had done against Subaru, admitted his respect for him and rejected the proposal:
—Do you realize that if this is reported, the credibility of this kingdom’s security will be affected? This is a damned joke.

Ram intervened skeptically:
—Sages, please! Barusu wasn’t smart enough to be an archbishop! No one will believe that nonsense.

That last comment earned him a murderous glare from Rem; Ram immediately regretted his words. He didn’t deserve to call him that.

Before the protests could continue, one of the sages shouted to impose order:
—CALM YOURSELVES, EVERYONE!

No one was likely to obey, but he continued with his speech, trying to assert control.

Bordeaux took the floor:
—If the people learn the truth, there will be chaos: riots, protests, deaths. It could be the start of a civil war, even worse than the semi-human war.

He added coldly:
—Furthermore, Subaru Natsuki was seen attacking Priestella —even if it wasn’t actually him— so some people may believe that version.

Rem was fed up with those excuses and jumped to kill the old man who dared to tarnish the image of her hero.
Garfiel didn’t wait either and did the same; his captain was the most incredible person he had ever met, and he would not allow anyone to keep insulting him like that.
But both were knocked out by Reinhard before they could act.
Ram, enraged, ran to her sister, throwing Reinhard a murderous glare — one he accepted, knowing he deserved it.

Reinhard hated this. The very idea of staining the reputation of a true hero was an unforgivable sin to him.

Miklotov couldn’t take it anymore. He knew this was a terrible idea: staining the reputation of an innocent boy who had saved thousands of lives was a crime in every sense of the word. Moreover, many people would immediately recognize the lie, and the scandal would be even worse.

“ENOUGH, BORDEAUX!” he shouted at the sage, making all the complaints fall silent.

“Do you realize the implications this could have if it’s discovered that we tried to tarnish the name of a royal knight who stopped calamities and archbishops? The consequences would be even worse than the current situation!”

Bordeaux didn’t take long to respond.

“Miklotov, what are you talking about? We already agreed on this.”

“Well, I never agreed,” Miklotov replied.

He sighed and turned to his fellow sages.
“Sages, reconsider this. If the lie is discovered, if people learn that we tried to ruin Subaru Natsuki’s memory, don’t you think the situation would become even worse than it already is? We wouldn’t just be the ones who killed their greatest hero — we’d also be the ones who tried to defame him. Imagine the uproar that would cause, even in other nations.”

The sages began to analyze the situation. He was right: the consequences would be far worse.

Everyone started murmuring in agreement.

One of the sages asked,
“Then how do we proceed?”

“By telling the truth”, Miklotov answered, “and making those responsible pay for what happened. That way, we’ll calm the people without provoking a greater disaster.”

That calmed some of the tension in the room — particularly for Emilia’s camp.

Emilia knew very well what it felt like to be judged or associated with the Witch of Envy. The mere idea that her knight would receive the same treatment and be compared to those monsters made her sick. She would not allow it, no matter what. Even if that idea had gone through, she would have revealed the truth the world deserved to know: that Subaru Natsuki — her knight, the man who had declared his love for her — was the greatest hero of all.

Beatrice felt the same. The very suggestion was disgusting. The idea of letting her contractor’s image be stained was a crime she would never accept. Her contractor was the most wonderful person in the world, and his memory deserved to be honored as it should.

Crusch sighed in relief. Subaru Natsuki did not deserve to be called the Archbishop of Pride. He was a hero. The very idea of participating in that lie made her sick. Even if the council decided to go through with it, she would not take part in that injustice. She would tell everyone the truth — even if it cost her her candidacy. Though, to be honest, that ship had already sailed; her knight’s involvement in that crime had already ruined her chances of winning.

But not everyone agreed.

“YOU’RE INSANE, MIKLOTOV! WE’LL BE RIDICULED IF THIS GETS OUT!”

“I think it’s better to look like fools than traitors,” Miklotov replied. “Besides, the imprisonment or execution of those involved will calm the citizens.”

“I CAN’T—!”
Before he could continue, he felt a deadly threat. When he turned, he saw several Yin magic crystals pointed at him.
Beatrice would tolerate no more insults toward her contractor.
“If you say one more thing about Betty’s Subaru, it’ll be the last thing you ever say, I suppose.”

Bordeaux, outraged, cried for help.
“SWORD SAINT, DESTROY THAT SPIRIT!”

But Reinhard didn’t move. He wouldn’t allow this madness to continue either — it was the least he could do for the memory of his friend, a true hero.

Bordeaux looked to his fellow sages, but none seemed willing to help him.
He had never felt so humiliated and powerless in his life.
With resignation, he said,
“You’re really condemning this country…”

With the stubborn sage’s surrender, Beatrice dismissed the crystals.

Rem and Garfiel woke up shortly after the knockout Reinhard had given them.
They were about to charge again, but Otto and Ram stopped them.
“Rem, please calm down.”
“But Sissy…”
“They’ve changed their decision. The responsible ones will be judged as they should. Barusu will receive the justice he deserves.”

Rem calmed down a little at that, though she was still furious at everyone in the room. But she felt relieved knowing her hero’s image would not be stained.

Otto also explained the situation to Garfiel. Reluctantly, he agreed to restrain himself — but if anyone insulted his captain again, he’d make sure they’d never speak again.

Once the matter was settled, Captain Marcos spoke up.
“Felix Argyle, step forward.”

Felix tensed. Slowly, he stepped forward, feeling murderous glares pierce through his soul.
Everyone in that room knew what he had done in that cell — the atrocities he had committed.
Part of him wanted to hate Subaru Natsuki for putting him in this situation. Because of all this, his lady now despised him. His friends too. Everyone hated him. He truly wanted to blame Subaru for everything.
But another part of him wanted to suppress that thought — drown it, and let it disappear forever. He knew what he had done was wrong. He had failed the most important person in his life, and he had to pay for it. At that moment, everyone hated Felix Argyle — but the person who hated Felix the most was Felix himself.
For being weak.
For being pathetic.
For being a monster.

Felix finally stood before the sages.

Miklotov began to speak.
“Felix Argyle, you not only violated your healer’s code, but also caused suffering to a respected knight of this kingdom. A knight who saved thousands of lives and ended the greatest threats this realm has ever known. The tortures you inflicted upon Subaru Natsuki are unforgivable — even by the Divine Dragon. In light of these actions, how do you plead?”

“Guilty…” Felix murmured.

“Very well,” Miklotov continued. “For all your crimes against Subaru Natsuki, your title as knight will be revoked. All records of your actions as a knight will be erased. There was never a knight named Felix Argyle. You are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment — in the same cell where Subaru Natsuki suffered his hell.”

The sentence was what everyone expected.

Even though many thought he deserved worse, his punishment was fair. At the very least, Felix would never hurt anyone again.

Crusch couldn’t help but feel pity for her former knight. They had spent many years together — beautiful years alongside him and Fourier. Felix had done many good things in his life. But what he had done was unforgivable: he had tortured and killed a young man who had defeated archbishops and mabeasts, a young man who had taken part of her curse upon himself and suffered for it, a young man she would have liked to know better.
Even though it pained her to see her friend like that, she would not speak in his defense. Felix had to pay for what he did.

Several guards entered with shackles. Felix could only watch as they cuffed him. He was no longer a knight — now, he was a prisoner.

Julius and Reinhard also felt pain seeing their friend in chains, but they couldn’t ignore what he had done. He had to pay. Though both blamed themselves for not stopping him, perhaps they could have done something… but the past couldn’t be changed. No one in this world could do that.

Felix finally left the room, shackled, heading toward his new home — a rotting cell.

Julius overheard some knights murmuring that Felix’s actions didn’t deserve such punishment, and that the “loser” got what he deserved. Julius had never felt so ashamed to be a knight until that day.
Perhaps Subaru was right…
Knights really were egocentric, foolish, incompetent idiots.

After that somber decision, Miklotov brought up a matter almost no one knew about — only Reinhard and a few guards were aware of it.
—“We also have some news to share,” he said. “Subaru Natsuki’s body has been stolen.”

A cold silence fell over the hall. It seemed like a macabre joke — as if fate continued to torment the boy who had done so much for the kingdom.

Beatrice was the first to react, raising her voice:
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHERE IS MY CONTRACTOR’S BODY?!”

Rem also protested, furious:
“WHO THE HELL STOLE MY HERO’S BODY?!”

Emilia joined the protest:
“WHAT HAPPENED TO MY KNIGHT’S BODY?!”

Reinhard was the one who answered, in a grave voice:
“It is theorized that a member of the Witch Cult took it.”

The theory left everyone with a bitter taste in their mouths. For Emilia, Beatrice, and Rem it was a personal blow: they had been, in part, responsible for Subaru losing his name… and now someone dared to steal his body. It was unforgivable.

Wilhelm struggled to contain his anger. They had already desecrated his wife’s body; now they toyed with the body of the boy he considered family. The thought made him want to go out and hunt cultists down until none remained.

Miklotov continued:
“For now we do not know the motive behind the theft, but finding it is a priority. The Sword Saint has been tasked with locating his corpse. Any news will be reported to you.”

There was no reply. There was nothing left to say.

One by one, the candidates and knights left the hall. Even though justice had been served, they did not feel satisfied — they felt empty. Some of them had also contributed to Subaru Natsuki’s cruel fate, and, unfortunately, they would never be able to atone for what they had done.

While most were leaving with dark thoughts, someone watched everything from a distance: a curse the size of an ant perched on the hall’s ceiling, and through it, in an abandoned building in the capital, Kenjaku observed the meeting.

After meeting with Pandora, Kenjaku had changed his outfit. He no longer wore the boy’s tracksuit; it wasn’t that he disliked it — he found it comfortable — but he didn’t want to draw attention. That afternoon he wore black pants, brown shoes, a long-sleeved gray shirt and a black hood; he also wore a mask that resembled an oni mask, though he used it only in public. Seeing some kimonos similar to those from Japan —originating in Kararagi— he considered wearing one, but decided not to repeat what he had done when he possessed Suguru Geto’s body.

He had also adopted a false name: Alcor. He did not want to present himself as Subaru Natsuki or as Kenjaku; for now that nickname, a reference to the star knowledge of the boy whose mind he inhabited, was enough.

Kenjaku scoffed quietly at those present.
“Are these really the people chosen by the Divine Dragon to rule the nation?” he murmured, sardonic. “What a good joke!”

He couldn’t help laughing at their stupidity: they themselves had condemned the hero who had saved them and eradicated threats that had plagued the kingdom for years —Petelgeuse, the White Whale, the Great Rabbit, Regulus Corneas— all within the span of a year. They, on the other hand, had barely managed to deal with Stride Vollachia. And yet, how did they reward him? By accusing him of being the Archbishop of Pride and only later realizing their mistake.

Kenjaku mocked those fools’ idiocy. It was a rule he had observed: old men in power are idiots; he had seen it at the sorcery school and he saw it again in Lugunica.

"If he hadn't used Return By Death, they'd all be dead," he said disdainfully. "Well, let them be idiots; it makes it easier for me." he said disdainfully.

His smile faded when he felt he was being watched. He shared the vision through the curse and saw that someone had detected him: the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, had sensed a presence stalking them with his divine detection protection.
Kenjaku remembered the feeling he had when Satoru Gojo came to see him after he was freed from the confinement prison; that time he nearly killed him, but then he had Sukuna at his side. Now he was alone and thought of leaving.

But Felt, driven by her impulse, interrupted Reinhard’s thoughts. She grabbed her knight’s hand and dragged him out of the hall.
“Let’s go, Rein,” she said, blind with fury.

Felt was determined to burn down the rotten system. Because of this system, her big brother was dead. When she won the royal selection, she would make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

Felt saw Reinhard lost in thought and said to him:
“I know what you’re thinking, Rein. You’re not the only one who thinks this way.”

“What do you mean, Felt-sama?” he asked, surprised.

“I know you feel guilty about what happened. I suppose, in some way, we all contributed to it. I suppose we are all monsters,” she answered bitterly.

Reinhard didn’t know what to say. He knew what it meant to be a monster, but he never imagined hearing it from his lady. He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.

“I’m really sorry, big brother,” Felt murmured as she left.

Reinhard cast one last look at the hall before departing with his lady.

Kenjaku, relieved that the dwarf had distracted the Saint of the Sword, set about analyzing his next move. He had it clear:

Reinhard van Astrea was a threat to his plans.

He had to counter him. If he had managed something with Satoru Gojo, he could do it with Reinhard, but how? Seal him? Was there any object like the Gokumonkyō that could help? Perhaps a yin spell; however, the magic of that world was not his specialty.
“I suppose this will be more difficult than I thought. But creating chaos is my specialty,” he exhaled and smiled, once again showing his twisted confidence.

Chapter Text

WITCH CULT BASE
LOCATION UNKNOWN

Somewhere remote and hidden from the world, a cathedral stood in eerie silence. It was an ancient structure, solemn and imposing. A sacred place that belonged to the Witch Cult.
Inside the cathedral, kneeling before the altar, was Pandora, the Witch of Vainglory and undisputed leader of the cult. Her presence radiated divinity—a calm, celestial glow that clashed with the cruelty of her actions. A figure who, by all logic, should inspire disgust… yet instead evoked devotion, reverence, and gratitude.

“Tell me, what do you need, Archbishop of Lust?”
Pandora’s voice was soft, almost melodic, her eyes never leaving the altar.

Capella, startled and slightly nervous at being discovered so easily, hesitated before replying:
“Hey, Pandora, what was that thing a few days ago? I mean, we ruined the life of that sack of meat who killed Regulus’s limp dick, only for another sack of meat to steal his body and slaughter those annoying gluttons with a power I’ve never seen before.
Tell me, who exactly is that sack of meat called Kenjaku?”

Pandora didn’t turn to face her. She remained perfectly composed, answering in a calm, steady tone:
“Kenjaku could be called a visionary, a master, a dreamer. You see, as he told you, he is not from this world.
He comes from a realm different from ours—a world not ruled by Od Laguna.
A world without witches, archbishops, authorities, divine protections, demi-humans, or magic. None of it.”

Capella frowned, confused.
“Wait, that shouldn’t even be possible.”

“Yes,” Pandora admitted with a faint smile. “I have to confess, I was surprised when he told me. Apparently, in his world, the soul doesn’t depend on any higher being.”

Capella tilted her head, curiosity sparking.
“If there are no authorities or divine protections there, then what was that power he used against those bags of meat? I felt something similar to miasma, but it was… different.”

Pandora murmured quietly, almost to herself:
“Cursed energy.”

“Eh?” Capella blinked.

Pandora continued, her tone becoming almost instructive, as if she delighted in unveiling forbidden truths:
“As Kenjaku explained to me, it’s a form of spiritual energy that seeps from humans as a result of their negative emotions—anger, sorrow, envy.

Only a few can manipulate it, and those who can’t… create cursed spirits.
Those capable of controlling it are called jujutsu sorcerers.
Each one can also acquire a cursed technique.
What killed the Gluttony twins was one of those techniques.
You could say it’s the equivalent of divine protections in this world, though from my perspective, they’re more akin to authorities.”

Capella went silent, processing the revelation.
That sack of meat was from another world—one without magic or divine favor—yet one where negative emotions themselves fueled a system of power. Fascinating.
For a brief moment, she wondered how entertaining it would be to turn a sorcerer into a hideous, shapeless mass. The thought made her grin.

She snapped back to reality and asked:
“Hey, what was he talking about when he mentioned recruiting players?”

Pandora narrowed her eyes slightly and replied, her tone tinged with melancholy:
“Well, Kenjaku, as I told you, is a dreamer. His goal is simple… yet complicated.
He wants to see how humanity can evolve beyond its current state, even without knowing what the outcome will be. He describes it himself as something that ‘sounds fun.’
To achieve that, he sought to force the evolution of humanity and cursed energy through a grand ritual—one meant to create a being whose nature even he cannot predict.”

Pandora rose slowly to her feet, turning to face Capella.
“To do that, he gathered several sorcerers from the past and the present into a tournament he said he would call The Culling Game.
From what I saw, it didn’t end very well—or at least not the way he would’ve liked.
And now, he possesses the body of Subaru Natsuki.”

In her mind, Pandora couldn’t help but think with quiet amusement:
He surely knows about the boy’s ability to change things now.

Capella raised an eyebrow.
“So, what are we going to do about him?”

Pandora answered casually, as if speaking of something trivial:
“Nothing.”

“Eh?” Capella blurted out.

“For now, it benefits us that the royal candidates have to deal with a new problem.
However, if he becomes a threat, we’ll intervene.

Until then, let him do as he pleases.”
In an instant, Pandora vanished.

Capella jumped, startled by her sudden disappearance.
She sighed, rubbing her temple, and muttered under her breath:
“I’m never gonna get used to that shit.”

IN A REMOTE FOREST, FAR FROM CIVILIZATION

Blood.
Guts.
Heads.

That was what covered the forest floor.

Kenjaku had ventured into a territory teeming with mabeasts, far from any human presence. He wanted to test the abilities of the new body he inhabited.

At that moment, he was experimenting with the Invisible Providence, the authority that had belonged to Petelgeuse. Apparently, this authority had remained in the boy’s body along with the one of Greed. From what he had investigated and tested, it allowed him to transfer injuries to opponents.

In Subaru’s memories, Kenjaku saw how the boy had tried to escape using that ability —which he had named Cor Leonis— yet he was always captured and killed. He had stopped trying after eighty loops.

Now he also possessed the Authority of Gluttony, obtained after killing the three Archbishops who had wielded it. However, he still had not discovered its full potential.

As for his original techniques, he also experimented with them… and discovered something interesting: he could use the Curse Manipulation technique on spirits, using them to his advantage without the need for a contract.

Tired of killing, Kenjaku sat on a corpse. While surveying the blood-soaked landscape, he began to plan his next move.

He had a clear objective:
Reinhard van Astrea had to be eliminated.

The redhead was far too powerful. From what he had gathered, the Sword Saint was immune to fire and mental attacks, could detect intentions and lies, walk on clouds and water, destroy buildings with a cheap sword, split mountains with his hands, and even revive if killed.

It was too much. And there were still divine protections he hadn’t yet used… or hadn’t yet received.

Kenjaku doubted even Satoru Gojo or Ryomen Sukuna could defeat him. Perhaps the only one with a chance would be Mahoraga, but even that was debatable: the shikigami needed time to adapt, and Reinhard would never allow it.

He considered multiple strategies.

All of them ended the same: with his death.

Still, he could not focus only on Reinhard. He had to consider other potential threats.

First, the half-elf for whom the boy had suffered so much: Emilia. Her power had immense potential; her freezing ability could rival Uraume, perhaps even surpass it. She had frozen an entire forest on her own. Yet, she was naive and mentally weak. At least that gave him an advantage if he ever had to face her.

Then there was the clown, Roswaal L. Mathers.
From what he had seen, he was an extraordinarily powerful mage: the strongest in Lugunica, according to Kenjaku’s research. In some ways, they were similar; both changed bodies over time, although by different methods.
Roswaal also knew about the Return by Death, though he didn’t know how to activate it.
Without a doubt, he would be one of the greatest threats.
The good news: at this point, he must be weakened. Without his book and without Subaru Natsuki, the clown basically had no motivation left.

Then there was Beatrice, Subaru’s former contracted spirit.
Though powerful, Kenjaku didn’t consider her a main threat; she had used much of her mana sending the Great Rabbit to another dimension. She must also be depressed over what happened to her contractor.
Still, she remained a considerable danger.

The cat, Garfiel, also deserved attention.
Physically strong, capable of defeating an assassin who could regenerate multiple times. Though, in Kenjaku’s opinion, that victory was more luck than skill. If he had to compare him to someone, it would be Panda: more of a nuisance than a real threat.

The merchant, Otto, was another matter.
Neither strong nor powerful, but intelligent and strategic.
A mind that could become an obstacle.

The oni sisters, Rem and Ram, were barely a concern. If he had to compare them to someone, it would be that poor blue-haired girl he had thrown a Uzumaki at in Shibuya just for fun. Handling them would be easy.

Other names could also cause trouble:
Julius Juukulius, Wilhelm van Astrea, Priscilla Barielle.

After analyzing everything, Kenjaku reached a conclusion.
He needed to become stronger.

Although already powerful —with the Anti-Gravity System technique, Curse Manipulation, Invisible Providence, Cor Leonis, and the Authority of Gluttony— it was not enough.

He could, if he wished, go to the prison where the Archbishop of Wrath was held, kill her, and take her authority. But that would still not suffice.

If he wanted to eliminate the rest of the Culling Game players and reach Megumi Fushiguro to trigger assimilation, he would need even more power.

Even as a special-grade sorcerer, he would face serious problems if he encountered Yuta Okkotsu, Yuji Itadori, Hiromi Higuruma, or Angel.

He needed more.

Kenjaku sighed.
It was a shame he didn’t have Return by Death. In part, the removal of that ability from the boy was what allowed him to take over his body. But it would be foolish to deny it was a useful power.

Though he would prefer the method for rewinding time did not require dying.

For Kenjaku, that ability would be his strongest card.

He had to obtain it, by any means.

He needed information. And he knew exactly who could give it to him.

Finally, he rose, a faint smile appearing beneath the shadow of the trees.
—“I suppose it’s time to visit the Witch of Greed,” he murmured.