...
{3rd Pov}
Subaru, Beatrice, and Emilia had just barely managed to push back against the Sin Archbishops.
Or rather, to be more precise, it was the third one who had effortlessly decimated the first two before suddenly withdrawing from the battlefield.
His retreat had been accompanied by an almost mocking excuse—that he had not yet properly introduced himself to his "colleagues" and therefore could not allow himself to fight seriously.
It was a thin justification at best, but it left the three with no choice but to watch him leave, battered and frustrated.
For a brief moment, they believed the worst was over.
But soon enough, they realized that the chaos was far from finished.
Their hopes were shattered when the unmistakable voice of another Sin Archbishop rang out across the city.
Her words did not carry naturally; instead, she had seized control of the city's broadcast system, amplifying her voice through a combination of a microphone and a speaker-like device known as a Metia.
The sound reverberated throughout every street, every district, leaving no corner of the city untouched by her presence.
She proudly declared the Witch Cult's successful takeover of Priestella, announcing that they now held complete control over the water gates—the lifelines of the city.
Her threats followed shortly after: if anyone dared to attempt an escape, if any group tried to flee the city's walls, she would not hesitate to unleash the floodgates and drown everything in her reach.
It was not merely intimidation; it was a stranglehold on the people's only route to safety.
With the escape routes effectively cut off, the citizens were left with no other option.
A city-wide evacuation was quickly organized, though not in the sense of leaving Priestella itself. Instead, the effort was redirected toward relocating the population.
Families and individuals were shifted away from areas that had already fallen under the Witch Cult's control, moving them into safer zones where the enemy's presence had not yet spread.
It was a desperate measure, but it was the only feasible response under the circumstances.
At last, after navigating through this chaos and ensuring as many civilians as possible were moved to relative safety, Subaru, Beatrice, and Emilia regrouped.
Waiting for them were several familiar faces, each one carrying the weight of their own battles. Anastasia Hoshin, calm but calculating as always.
Julius Juukulius, the knight whose name still echoed with recent acclaim.
Aldebaran, ever the enigma beneath his helmet.
Crusch Karsten, whose dignified presence had not been diminished despite her condition.
Wilhelm van Astrea, the veteran warrior whose blade carried both experience and sorrow.
And finally Felix Argyle, whose healing talents and sharp tongue remained invaluable.
"Now that we have finished conducting a simple evacuation and ensured that the majority of those who were injured are no longer in immediate danger, we must begin discussing a concrete plan to retaliate," Crusch declared firmly, her voice steady despite the weight of the situation.
However, the reaction she received was not quite what she expected.
Subaru and Beatrice both exchanged glances, their expressions twisting into something strange, almost as if they had heard something unpleasant.
Their unease was evident, though the others present were still unaware of the reason.
The sound of static briefly filled the air, followed by a loud, grating voice that cut through the tension like a blade.
"Oh hooo! How are you all doing, my darling little peasants?" The mocking, sickeningly sweet tone instantly revealed the culprit.
There was no mistaking it—it was the Sin Archbishop of Lust.
Her voice blared across the city, carried by the magical broadcast system, echoing from every corner and leaving no ear untouched.
She was speaking to everyone—knights, nobles, commoners, even children hiding in their homes.
"Did you really think we would just leave you alone after all that? Hahaha!" Her laughter was cruel and distorted, a sound that seemed to crawl under the skin.
"How naïve! How pitifully naïve you are!"
The entire city stiffened.
People in the streets froze, families huddled closer together, and fear once again took hold of the citizens who had only just begun to calm down after the earlier evacuation.
"You'd better prepare yourselves, you filthy little meatbags," Lust sneered, drawing out the words with malicious glee.
"Because before long, every single one of you will be crushed into paste. Crushed like the worthless insects you truly are."
A chorus of horrified murmurs and cries spread among the populace.
Even those who had endured the Witch Cult's presence so far could not help but shiver at her venom-laced proclamation.
"Now, now, don't look so hopeless! Mommy has a few demands, and if you want to cling to your pathetic lives, you'd better listen closely."
Her voice curled with amusement, as if she were playing with her prey.
"Obey Mommy, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you meatbags crawl around a little longer."
At that declaration, Subaru and the others clenched their fists.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes, muttering under her breath, while Julius and Wilhelm silently glared at the speaker as if their sheer willpower could cut through it.
"First demand—" Lust began, her voice dripping with anticipation.
But suddenly, her words stopped short.
"Wait. Wait a damn minute. Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?!"
Her tone shifted rapidly from mocking arrogance to startled fury.
The transmission grew unstable, her voice cracking and warping.
"Aghh! Regulus?! What the hell are you doing by his side?!" she shrieked, the sound of her fury echoing harshly.
"Wait—what the hell?! Why—why can't I—aghhh—!"
And then, without warning, the broadcast abruptly cut off.
The speakers crackled and fizzed with nothing but harsh static, the distorted buzzing filling the air for several long seconds before falling silent altogether.
Confusion immediately spread like wildfire among those present.
The common people looked at each other in fear and panic, unsure of what had just happened.
Anastasia's brows furrowed, Julius frowned deeply, and even Wilhelm's experienced composure seemed shaken.
None of them could make sense of it.
All except for two.
Only Subaru and Beatrice, exchanging another meaningful glance, had the faintest inkling of what might have occurred.
The sudden silence, the panic in Lust's voice—it all painted a picture they were beginning to understand.
But that realization did not bring them peace. If anything, it only deepened the dread clawing at their hearts.
Everyone froze in place, their bodies stiff as stone.
Sweat dripped down brows and necks, and not a single soul dared to breathe too loudly.
All eyes turned instinctively upward, waiting to see if another broadcast would follow. For several long, agonizing minutes, there was only silence.
The eerie buzzing from the speakers had faded, leaving behind a dreadful stillness that pressed heavily against their hearts.
Just as Anastasia opened her mouth to break the silence with a comment, the speakers crackled back to life.
"Mike testing, mike testing… three, two, one… Ah, is this thing still working? Is it? Ah, okay, thanks, Frill," the unfamiliar voice drawled casually, almost cheerfully.
The effect was immediate.
Subaru's eyes went wide with shock, while Aldebaran's narrowed sharply behind his helmet, as though he recognized something within the voice that the others did not.
"Sorry, but Mommy Capella won't be available for a while," the voice continued in an almost teasing tone.
"She got on my nerves a little, so I decided to hand out some punishment. Don't worry, though. She's not dead. Probably. Heh. Anyway, since I've got the floor, I should take this chance to introduce myself."
Every person present shifted their attention completely to the broadcast.
The air grew tense, every knight, mercenary, and citizen hanging onto the words coming through the magical speakers.
"I am the Witch Cult's Cardinal," the voice declared proudly, his tone rising like a performer announcing himself on stage.
"A Sin Archbishop… representing the great and glorious sin of Pride! My name is Zero!"
The announcement hit like a shockwave. Julius, ever the knight, was the first to mutter in disbelief.
"Another one…? How many of them are here?!"
The Archbishop's voice boomed on, smug and confident.
"If you're wondering, let me clear up the confusion. Except for Sloth—who, well, was eaten alive by none other than Natsuki Subaru—all of the Sin Archbishops are present in this lovely little city right now!"
Gasps and murmurs erupted among the group, and immediately, several pairs of eyes turned to Subaru.
"H-Hey! Hold on a second!" Subaru flailed his arms wildly, his face twisted in panic.
"I didn't eat him alive! That's insane! Julius, you tell them! You were there! Back me up here!"
Julius sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering in a weary voice.
"Subaru… I don't think that's what they're actually concerned about. But for the record, no, you definitely did not eat him alive."
The words didn't ease the mood.
The Archbishop's smug claim had been loud, clear, and unmistakable.
Everyone's focus was fixed on Subaru not because they believed the ridiculous part about him eating Sloth, but because the enemy had outright declared Subaru to be the one responsible for the Sin Archbishop's defeat.
And that created a new kind of unease.
Because, if the enemy's own ranks acknowledged Subaru as the key figure behind Sloth's downfall, then why did it sound as if Julius's efforts—efforts that had been actually more critical—were being erased from the story altogether?
It didn't make sense, and the contradiction left the group even more unsettled than before.
"Let me think here," the voice of Pride drawled, filled with mocking amusement as the speakers carried his words across every street and plaza of the city.
"The Subjugation of the White Whale, the slaying of the Sin Archbishop of Sloth, and even the supposed ending of the Great Rabbit… That's some seriously dangerous Anti–Witch Cult energy you've been putting out there, don't you think?"
Subaru's jaw clenched, while Emilia frowned deeply, her fists curling at her sides.
Pride's tone, though delivered casually, carried an undercurrent of venom that made everyone's skin crawl.
"However…" His voice suddenly shifted, the speakers buzzing with static as though to heighten the drama.
"You cannot defeat us. None of you can. Don't think I'm unaware. I know for a fact that all five Royal Candidates are currently within this very city."
At those words, Crusch, Emilia, and Anastasia instinctively exchanged wary glances, acknowledging the dangerous truth behind his claim.
Far away, in another part of the city, Felt, who had been dragged away and restrained by Heinkel, narrowed her sharp eyes at the nearest speaker.
Her small body tensed in defiance, though her situation left her with no room to act.
Heinkel, the wastrel knight who bound her, only smirked, his iron grip unrelenting.
Elsewhere, Priscilla, who had been casually carving through hordes of demonic beasts with a flourish of her blade, paused mid-step.
She tilted her head upward, gazing at the nearest broadcast device with eyes that reflected her absolute arrogance.
"None of you can touch us," Pride continued, his voice dripping with certainty.
"Meanwhile, we? We can utterly, absolutely demolish you without effort."
Priscilla's lips curved into a smirk, her crimson eyes flashing with disdain.
"How laughably arrogant," she scoffed aloud, as though her words themselves were a sword cutting into the empty air.
Back with Felt, her body trembled in frustration as she muttered under her breath, "Just you wait, you bastard. Reinhardt will come and beat the living hell out of you."
At her words, Heinkel chuckled darkly, his grip on her shoulder tightening with mocking cruelty.
"Oh? You sure do put a lot of faith in that monster. But before you can wait for your precious Reinhardt to save you, you'll first have to survive escaping from me."
Felt's brow twitched furiously, but she could only grit her teeth in anger.
Meanwhile, within the meeting hall where the others had gathered, the three Royal Candidates present—Crusch, Emilia, and Anastasia—once again shared looks with one another, silently measuring both the situation and each other.
"How arrogant," Anastasia muttered at last, a dry laugh escaping her lips. "He's acting as though their supremacy is absolute and unquestionable."
Crusch, maintaining her calm dignity, responded with a firm nod. "Indeed. His arrogance is transparent… however, we cannot deny that this petty method of intimidation is effective."
Her eyes swept over the soldiers nearby, who were visibly pale and trembling as they listened to the broadcast. "It is working perfectly well to spread fear among the populace."
The knights and guards, normally disciplined and resolute, now wore expressions full of unease, their weapons clutched tighter as if the mere sound of Pride's voice had cut into their morale.
"We won't let them hurt others!" Emilia declared firmly, her voice ringing with determination. She clenched her fists, her silver hair swaying slightly as if to emphasize her resolve.
Subaru quickly nodded beside her, replying with a sharp, "Y-Yeah, that's right!" But this time, there was hesitation in his voice.
His usual conviction faltered, and a thin layer of doubt slipped through.
Because in truth, he wasn't so sure anymore.
Pride had already displayed an ability that felt terrifyingly absolute, the power to kill anything simply by willing it so.
That sort of overwhelming authority was something Subaru could hardly wrap his head around.
Even so, he desperately argued to himself that such an ability must have a weakness.
No power, no matter how invincible it seemed, could exist without limits.
And Subaru—through his gut feeling and the faintest of hints he had begun to piece together—suspected he might already know where that weakness lay.
Just as those thoughts whirled inside Subaru's head, the arrogant voice returned, dripping with venom.
"Oh? I suppose you must all be thinking that since the Sword Saint is here, your victory is already guaranteed, huh?" Pride suddenly sneered, his words instantly grabbing everyone's attention.
"The strongest Sword Saint since the very first one. The man who wields the Dragon Sword Reid, the blade said to cut through any and every concept in existence… hah!"
His voice abruptly broke into mocking laughter.
"Pfttt… ahahaha! Hahahahaha!" The sound blared through the speakers, harsh and condescending, a laugh that tore into pride and dignity itself.
Reinhardt, standing in silence among the gathered, narrowed his eyes but remained composed.
Yet his stoic demeanor did little to shield him from what came next.
"Let me be perfectly honest with all of you," Pride's tone turned sharper, crueler.
"The man you call Reinhardt… that isn't his real name at all. His true name… is Fraudhart."
The sudden declaration left the crowd stunned.
Confused murmurs spread as soldiers and citizens alike looked at each other, unable to comprehend what they were hearing.
"Yes, Fraudhart," Pride repeated with relish.
"Why? Because he is a fraud. Because he is always absent, always too late, or outright fails those who need him the most! The so-called Sword Saint who arrives only when it doesn't matter anymore!"
Reinhardt's calm expression finally cracked.
His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles whitening.
Pride's words were like daggers stabbing directly into wounds that had never healed.
Failures—memories of those he had been unable to save, of times when his strength had not been enough—rose unbidden to the surface.
And now, in front of allies, comrades, and enemies alike, those scars were being mocked and exposed.
Subaru gritted his teeth at the sight.
He knew how much Reinhardt carried, even if the man never spoke of it aloud.
To see those old pains dragged out and ridiculed made Subaru's stomach twist with rage.
Pride, unconcerned with the weight of his cruelty, simply continued in the same arrogant tone. "Still, unlike some of my more… hands-on colleagues, it is far beneath me to waste my precious time and dirty my hands slaughtering pathetic weaklings like you. So instead, I'll offer something special. A chance. A choice."
The voice grew heavier, echoing unnaturally, each word curling like poison in the air.
"How about it? I am giving you all… the opportunity to be free."
The declaration reverberated across every corner of the city.
Despite the volume, it carried an unnatural intimacy, like the whisper of a devil slithering into every listener's ear.
Soldiers stiffened, citizens shivered in terror, and even those with steel-like resolve felt the creeping weight of the words.
It was not just a threat. It was temptation.
"A… a chance?" a trembling commoner muttered inside one of the shelters, surrounded by dozens of other refugees who huddled together in fear.
The single word slipped out of his mouth like a prayer, and in an instant, countless pairs of desperate eyes turned toward the speaker above.
Hope, faint and fragile, began to flicker in their gazes.
"Yes! A chance," Pride confirmed enthusiastically, his voice booming through the magical speakers with a confidence that felt unshakable.
"If my demands are met, if you cooperate obediently, then I will show mercy and spare every last one of you."
The refugees' tense silence erupted into murmurs of relief.
Joy, however misguided, spread among them.
Tears welled up in the eyes of parents clutching their children, and people dared to believe—if only for a second—that survival was within reach.
But not everyone shared that fragile joy.
Within the central gathering of the camps, the faces of the five Royal Candidates and their allies twisted in frustration.
Crusch, Emilia, Anastasia, Priscilla, and Felt each ground their teeth or narrowed their eyes, fully aware that the Archbishop's promises were nothing more than a manipulative trap.
"I have three demands," Pride continued, his voice sharp and absolute, cutting through the city like the toll of a bell.
"The first—bring me the Book of Wisdom. It must be handed over to the Witch Cult immediately."
At that declaration, Subaru, Beatrice, and Emilia all froze, their eyes widening simultaneously.
Their faces turned pale as they exchanged panicked looks, the weight of the demand crashing down on them.
Elsewhere in the city, Otto, who had taken refuge in a different safehouse, felt his stomach drop.
His trembling hands instinctively clutched at the restored Book of Wisdom he carried with him, the very object now declared as one of Pride's conditions.
Cold sweat poured down his back as he realized that the Archbishop somehow knew.
"Second," Pride's voice rang again, cutting off Otto's thoughts, "the body of the Witch buried beneath this very city must be delivered to us."
Gasps and shouts erupted among the gathered soldiers and citizens who overheard. Confusion spread like wildfire.
"There's… there's a Witch's body buried here?!" someone cried out in shock, their voice breaking the uneasy murmurs.
Even the most composed individuals among the Royal Camps stiffened at the revelation.
The idea that such a dangerous secret lay beneath Priestella without their knowledge was nothing short of terrifying.
"Lastly…" Pride paused deliberately, his tone shifting into one of cruel amusement. "The Subjugator of the White Whale. The so-called hero who brought down the Sin Archbishop of Sloth. The one who ended the Great Rabbit. In other words…"
The silence stretched for only a heartbeat, but it was heavy enough to feel suffocating.
"Natsuki Subaru must be handed over to us."
"WHAT?!"
The unified cry erupted at once, shaking the room. Shock, disbelief, and outrage filled every corner. Dozens of eyes instantly swiveled toward Subaru, pinning him in place like sharpened daggers.
Subaru himself was left utterly stunned.
His mouth hung open, words failing him as the weight of Pride's demand slammed into him like a boulder.
His heart pounded violently in his chest, and his thoughts spun into chaos.
Why him? Why specifically him?
And yet, deep down, Subaru knew there was no mistake. The Witch Cult had set their eyes on him.
"What the hell! Julius's contribution in taking down the Sin Archbishop of Sloth was way bigger than mine! And Wilhelm was the one who dealt the final blow to the White Whale! So why the hell am I the one being targeted?!" Subaru shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
His voice cracked with panic and frustration, filling the tense chamber.
The room fell into an awkward silence.
Knights, mercenaries, and royal camp members all turned toward him with a mix of disbelief, exhaustion, and secondhand embarrassment.
…Yeah. This was definitely their Subaru.
Without missing a beat, Emilia marched up to him and grabbed his ear between her fingers.
She twisted it sharply.
"Ouch! Ow ow ow! Emilia-tan, why are you doing this to me?!" Subaru yelped, hopping in place and flailing his arms like a child caught red-handed.
Emilia puffed her cheeks, her lips pouting as she scolded him.
"Bad boy! You're still cracking jokes at a time like this! This isn't funny, Subaru!"
"I-I wasn't joking, it's a legitimate complaint! But okay, okay, I get it! I'm sorry!"
Subaru quickly folded under her glare, bowing his head.
"I apologize, Emilia-tan! I apologize, everyone! I sincerely, wholeheartedly apologize!"
Only after that desperate performance did Emilia relent, finally letting go of his ear with a small "hmph."
Subaru rubbed at the reddened spot, sulking under his breath, though not loudly enough for her to hear.
Before the mood could lighten too much, Pride's voice returned, cold and cruel, as though he had been watching the exchange.
"One last thing," he said, his tone shifting back into condescension. "I know there are people in this city for whom stupidity and arrogance are practically etched into their very bones."
"How ironic," Felix hissed, ears twitching as his tail bristled with irritation. His sharp tongue cut through the air, though it was obvious the insult hadn't been directed at the them—it was a jab meant for the Witch Cult.
Pride continued without pause. "So let me make this simple. I'm certain that all five royal candidates will, without fail, form an alliance and attempt to oppose us. Spare yourselves the tedious theatrics of attacking us piecemeal. Instead, I will gather all the Sin Archbishops in the central plaza tomorrow, at Wind Time. That's when we'll face each other. Don't make us wait… otherwise, if you drag your feet, we may decide to strike you first."
The moment he finished, the magical speakers erupted into a burst of static before abruptly cutting out. Silence fell.
The room remained frozen for several long seconds as if everyone was afraid the voice would return.
Only after several minutes of waiting in complete stillness, with no further announcements, did the gathered finally exhale.
A collective breath of relief washed through the chamber, the tension momentarily easing.
But almost as quickly, every set of eyes locked onto Subaru once again.
Subaru's face went pale.
His shoulders slumped, his head tilted slightly to the side, and he let out a weak laugh that carried no strength behind it.
He knew. He absolutely knew.
He had fucked up!
To be continued...
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