...
{3rd Pov}
Garfiel's hands twisted and morphed into feral beast claws, each finger tipped with razor-sharp nails as he drove his fist forward with unrelenting force.
When his strike collided against Kurgan's counterattack, the impact rang out like steel clashing against steel, sending rippling shockwaves through the air.
Each exchange between the two warriors was brutal, raw, and violent enough that the ground beneath them quivered as if it could barely withstand the pressure of their blows.
Sparks of energy and displaced wind bursts spread outward with every collision, making it clear that their battle was one fought not only with strength but also with sheer fucking will.
The others, unwilling to hesitate for even a second, quickly set their sights on their chosen enemies. Julius, stepping forward with calm confidence and sharp precision, launched an attack directly at the Sin Archbishop of Lust.
However, his target responded immediately, her body twisting and reshaping in a disturbing, unnatural manner.
In an instant, she transformed into a monstrous beast-like figure—her legs replaced by vicious talons capable of tearing through stone, her upper body growing two enormous, powerful arms, and vast wings erupting from her back.
With that grotesque form, she evaded his initial strike with mechanical swiftness, her movements as unnerving as they were efficient.
As Julius and Lust began their deadly clash, the others also engaged without delay, each already having determined their opponents beforehand.
Emilia, standing resolute with her icy determination, confronted the Sin Archbishop of Wrath directly.
She had not forgotten the nature of Wrath's Authority, nor the devastating influence it could exert on her mind and body.
Though she knew she could not completely resist the effect of that overwhelming power, she had prepared for the encounter.
Emilia believed that if her opponent's concentration could be disrupted, even for brief moments, she would be able to withstand the Authority just as she had managed in their previous confrontation.
(A/N: No wonder she is so stupid)
That was where Felt came in.
The fiery and quick-thinking Royal Candidate had taken up the critical role of distraction, working seamlessly in tandem with Emilia.
Together, the two formed a deliberate partnership, their teamwork designed not to defeat Wrath instantly but to keep her contained and restrained long enough to exploit openings.
Their coordination was sharp and calculated, showing the trust both candidates had in each other despite their differences.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Wilhelm, the veteran swordsman whose experience in combat was nearly unmatched, had already crossed blades with an enemy who clearly specialized in swordsmanship.
This opponent, clad in the uniform of a Witch Cultist, moved with expert precision, meeting Wilhelm strike for strike in a deadly duel.
The eerie part was that the true identity of this so-called corpse soldier remained entirely hidden beneath the cultist's robes.
Their movements carried the weight of a seasoned warrior, someone who had trained and fought endlessly, yet their face and name remained obscured, leaving only their skill as proof of their existence.
With every swing of their weapons, sparks scattered through the air as the clash between the master swordsman and the mysterious enemy grew more and more intense.
Ricardo and Aldebaran, standing shoulder to shoulder, turned their attention toward the twin threats that were the two Sin Archbishops of Gluttony.
Without wasting time, they charged forward and initiated battle, steel clashing against the overwhelming hunger-fueled power of their foes.
At the same time, Crusch and Felix, moving with coordination born from years of trust and experience, confronted the Sin Archbishop of Greed directly.
Their target radiated an aura of suffocating arrogance despite being reduced to a corpse solder, and both of them knew they had to strike together to withstand his overwhelming presence.
Meanwhile, Heinkel, armed with nothing but the weight of his family name and the Dragon Sword's sheath, and Priscilla, proud and unflinching as always, advanced straight toward the embodiment of Pride.
Zero, watching the battlefield unfold before him, could not help but feel a twisted sense of amusement at the arrangement.
To his eyes, this distribution of fighters seemed peculiar, almost comically mismatched, and certainly not the kind of line-up that conventional strategy would have produced. It was as though none of them were properly suited to their opponents.
Yet, despite how unusual and illogical it appeared, there was no denying that the arrangement worked.
Each group pressed their enemies with persistence, determination, and strength.
For all its irregularity, the lineup forced the Archbishops to remain occupied and under pressure.
As Heinkel, posturing in Reinhardt's place, and Priscilla, radiating her haughty aura, came to a stop in front of their chosen enemy, another figure entered the stage.
Gloria, wearing her wicked confidence like armor, stepped forward to meet them.
A malicious grin spread across her face as she raised her voice.
"Amuse me, mongrels!" she declared with theatrical delight.
The effect of her words was immediate and terrifying. In the blink of an eye, the entire atmosphere shifted.
The air grew heavier, suffused with tension so thick it was difficult to breathe.
High above, the skies rippled with golden distortions, as though reality itself had been pierced.
First, only a few shimmering rings appeared, but soon dozens filled the heavens, and then hundreds, each one glowing ominously.
Their sudden manifestation stole the attention of everyone on the battlefield, forcing even the fiercest fighters to momentarily struggle between fending off their own opponents and watching this new threat that loomed overhead.
But neither Heinkel nor Priscilla were fools.
They weren't about to stand idly by and allow their opponent to complete some grand spell or unleash unchecked destruction.
Priscilla, her movements radiating supreme confidence, immediately summoned her Yang Sword.
With a precise, powerful swing, she cut through the air toward Gloria, flames of scorching brilliance trailing in the weapon's path.
Gloria only smirked in response, her expression mocking, and in the very next second her body blurred.
She moved with frightening speed, blitzing backwards in a flash, leaving nothing but empty space where she had been standing.
Priscilla's blade cut deeply into the air, striking nothing, its power wasted on emptiness.
At the same time, Heinkel made his move.
With all his strength, he swung the indestructible Dragon Sword's sheath directly toward Zero, aiming to crush him with sheer force.
However, his attack did not land as he expected. Before his strike could connect, another figure intercepted him.
Frill stepped forward casually and, to his shock, raised her weapon—or rather, what she called a weapon.
The clash rang out, but instead of the satisfying impact of steel against steel, Heinkel was met with resistance that shouldn't have existed.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he registered what stood in his way. Frill was holding nothing more than a simple wooden stick.
It wasn't even a refined weapon or anything resembling proper equipment.
It looked like an ordinary branch torn straight off a random tree, raw and unshaped.
Yet impossibly, that pitiful branch held firm under the crushing force of his attack.
The sheath of the Dragon Sword was famed for its indestructible might, its weight and strength capable of smashing through anything in its path.
And yet, this makeshift weapon—this ridiculous, fragile-looking branch—had stopped it completely.
Even worse, Frill did not merely block his strike.
With a deliberate motion, she pushed back against him, and to his disbelief, Heinkel felt himself being forced a step backward.
The power behind her casual push was enough to unsettle him.
The impossible had just happened before his eyes, and the sight left him rattled more than he cared to admit.
"What is with that ridiculous sword stick?!" Heinkel shouted in frustration, his voice trembling with both anger and disbelief.
At this moment, he still wore the guise of Reinhardt, the Sword Saint, but his reaction betrayed his slipping composure.
His eyes were locked on the black-haired girl standing before him, her strange yellow-green eyes gleaming unnaturally, pupils narrowed into sharp catlike slits that seemed to pierce directly into him.
Frill, the girl in question, didn't flinch at his outburst. Instead, she met his gaze with unnerving calmness, her expression unreadable, as though his disbelief didn't matter in the slightest.
When she finally spoke, her words carried an unshakable certainty, as though they were absolute truth rather than mere claims.
"I am the Sword God," she said with composure, her tone steady and unwavering.
"I decide what a sword is. Anything that my hands touch becomes the mightiest sword."
The audacity of her declaration hit Heinkel like a slap in the face.
His eyes widened in outrage at the absurdity, and his teeth ground together audibly as he spat back.
"That is complete bullshit, and you know it!" he barked, his voice thick with anger.
Frill, however, remained utterly unfazed.
Instead of answering his insult, she simply tilted her head slightly to the side, her sharp gaze narrowing as she studied him with unnerving curiosity.
Then, in a soft but pointed tone, she asked, "Why does your voice sound… so aged?"
That single question cut through his disguise like a blade.
Heinkel froze in place for the briefest moment, his confidence faltering.
A flicker of panic crossed his face, and a pale shade washed over his features.
He scrambled to regain control of the situation, forcing his words out loudly in a desperate attempt to draw her attention away from the suspicion she had voiced.
"I am the Sword Saint!" Heinkel declared, trying to sound authoritative despite his cracking composure.
"Reinhardt van Astrea! And I challenge you to a duel!" His announcement carried volume, but anyone watching closely could see it for what it truly was—an obvious attempt to divert her focus, a clumsy effort to hide the truth by doubling down on his act.
Frill's expression did not change.
She regarded him coolly, her eyes boring into him as though she could see straight through every layer of his disguise.
Then, in a voice as calm as still water, she answered, "A duel, you say? Then unsheathe your sword."
At those words, Heinkel's body stiffened.
His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
The demand was simple, but it struck directly at his weakest point.
He knew full well he could not comply.
The Dragon Sword Reid was no ordinary blade.
It was a weapon that chose its master and refused to be wielded by anyone it deemed unworthy and to be used on someone which it deemed unworthy as well.
The sword itself had a will, one that could almost be called temperamental, and in his hands it was nothing more than a ceremonial relic.
He could swing the sheath with all his strength, but he could never unsheathe the blade.
Not now. Not ever.
The truth gnawed at him in silence.
The Dragon Sword was, at best, a mockery of power in his grasp, a tool to pretend with, never a true weapon of his own.
To reveal this would destroy his facade, so instead, Heinkel refused to answer.
He clenched his jaw tightly and chose action over words.
With a frustrated growl, he lunged forward, drawing the indestructible dragon sheath in a wide, forceful arc.
Even if he could not wield the blade itself, the sheath was still unbreakable, still capable of serving as a devastating weapon in its own right.
Frill did not move an inch.
Her stance remained casual, her grip on the ordinary wooden stick completely steady.
As Heinkel's attack came crashing down with immense force, she raised the branch almost lazily and met his strike head-on.
To his utter disbelief, the stick not only stopped his swing but deflected it with effortless precision.
Her arms did not even shake from the impact.
Every follow-up attack he unleashed, fueled by frustration and the desire to prove her wrong, was swatted aside in the same casual manner.
The clash of the indestructible dragon sheath against what looked like nothing more than a random branch from a tree should have been laughable.
Yet, reality mocked him.
Each time he struck, she deflected.
Each time he pressed forward, she denied him without even stepping back.
And through it all, Frill's expression remained calm, composed, and dismissive, as though she were barely paying attention to his desperate attempts.
Meanwhile, Gloria threw back her head and laughed, a sound full of malice and theatrical cruelty. "Dance for me, mongrels!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the battlefield.
In an instant, she launched an array of weapons formed entirely from radiant, crackling light.
While these constructs were not technically moving at the speed of light, their velocity was still astonishing, fast enough to force everyone on the field to immediately halt their own attacks and scramble to evade them.
The sudden onslaught created a chaotic atmosphere, forcing allies and enemies alike to dodge with split-second timing.
Yet, these weapons were indiscriminate, showing no distinction between friend or foe, striking anyone in their path except for two individuals—Pride and Frill.
For reasons that could only be described as extraordinary, the trajectories of the luminous weapons bent mid-air to avoid them entirely.
The precision of the magic seemed almost conscious, leaving them unharmed while those around them scrambled to avoid the barrage.
Regulus, standing stoically in the middle of the fray, remained completely unharmed.
His Authority of Stillness rendered him immune to the sudden assault, a perfect demonstration of the defensive power at his disposal.
Wrath and Gluttony, reacting swiftly, managed to dodge the deadly beams of light with agility born of instinct and experience.
Lust, however, was not so fortunate.
Several of the weapons pierced her flesh, impaling her in multiple places.
Though the attack was nowhere near fatal, it severely hampered her mobility, leaving her struggling to maintain balance and movement under the barrage.
Julius, spotting the opening Gloria's attack had created, seized the opportunity without hesitation. With a swift movement, he called upon his most powerful long-range technique.
"Al Clauzeria!" he shouted, his voice carrying both command and authority across the battlefield.
The moment he spoke, his sword became instantly imbued with the combined energy of his six quasi-spirits, each of them channeling elemental power.
A brilliant, shimmering rainbow hue enveloped his blade, and he released it in a concentrated energy attack that carried the destructive force of all six elements at once.
The attack struck Lust while she was still in her beast form, a smaller and less terrifying version compared to the massive Dragon she could become.
The energy impacted her body directly, and the rainbow light cascaded over her in a blinding explosion of power.
The intensity of the attack was enough to completely vaporize her, leaving no trace behind—at least, that was what it seemed at first.
"Julius! Way to go!" Subaru cheered loudly, his voice full of relief and admiration.
Behind the cheers, however, there was a method to their task.
Subaru and Beatrice had been assigned the crucial role of detecting weaknesses in their opponents and signaling when and how others could exploit those vulnerabilities.
At this level of battle, Subaru's own combat skills were insufficient to directly engage the powerful enemies, but his strategic role and sharp observation were invaluable.
Beside him, Beatrice acted as both his shield and weapon, ready to defend him or attack at his command, maintaining the delicate balance of safety and offense required in the heat of battle.
However, the momentary celebration was cut brutally short.
Lust's body, which had been obliterated mere seconds before, began to regenerate from almost nothing.
The sheer speed and intensity of the regeneration was terrifying.
As the flesh and form reconstituted, she did not return to her smaller beast form.
Instead, she grew exponentially, her body enlarging until it dwarfed all of the combatants on the battlefield.
The transformation was both rapid and horrifying, as she took on the form of a massive, menacing dragon.
Her scales shimmered with a deep purple hue, and every movement exuded raw, destructive power.
Without a second's hesitation, she opened her mouth and unleashed a torrent of black flames, an inferno capable of consuming everything in its path.
The sheer intensity of the attack radiated a heat and darkness that forced everyone nearby to brace themselves against the destructive force of her dragon form.
"Everyone, dodge!" Subaru shouted urgently, his voice cutting through the chaos as the battlefield erupted once again in violent movement.
The Sin Archbishop's dragon flames were monstrously destructive, their heat radiating even from several meters away.
The sheer intensity of the inferno was enough to singe skin and scorch clothing, forcing even the most confident fighters into immediate evasive action.
Proud as she was, Priscilla found herself forced to leap to the side, narrowly avoiding the devastating flames that roared past her.
Heinkel, still disguised as Reinhardt, cursed under his breath, the sound rough with disbelief.
"The fuck is this?!" he shouted, his voice tinged with both anger and the unmistakable edge of fear, as he scrambled to maintain control over his own movements.
As Lust's attack finally subsided, leaving a scorched mark on the battlefield in its wake, Subaru quickly swept his gaze over his allies.
Relief washed over him momentarily as he confirmed that none of them had been directly harmed by the searing black flames.
His chest rose and fell in a heavy breath, the tension of the past moments finally easing just enough for him to think clearly.
But there was no time to linger in relief.
Subaru's eyes immediately shifted toward the towering purple dragon Lust had transformed into, her size and presence alone dominating the battlefield.
From there, his gaze moved to the other Sin Archbishops and the Witch Cultists scattered around the field, each of them poised and ready for carnage.
The grim realization hit him like a physical blow—there was no denying it anymore.
They were utterly outmatched.
The Sin Archbishops' strength was overwhelming.
Their power far exceeded anything Subaru and the others could reasonably hope to contend with, and to make matters worse, the advantage of numbers was nonexistent.
They were somewhat outnumbered, and even surviving under such conditions required near-perfect coordination, skill, and a bit of luck.
To think of actually defeating these enemies under such circumstances seemed almost impossible, a distant and hopeless goal.
Pride, observing Subaru's expression of dawning despair, let out a low, mocking chuckle. It was a sound that carried both amusement and a cruel sense of superiority.
At his signal—or perhaps simply by the force of his will—all of the Sin Archbishops instantly froze mid-action, their maniacal movements halting in unison.
It was clear to anyone paying attention that they possessed no independent will of their own.
Pride was in full control, manipulating them like puppets through some unseen technique, whether it was a corpse technique or some other method that bound them entirely to his authority.
"Have you realized your place?" Zero's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaotic silence like a blade.
"Do you now understand how futile your resistance truly is?"
Subaru, however, did not hesitate, nor did he allow fear to dominate his response.
His voice rang out, loud and full of defiance, carrying both anger and determination.
"Shut up! If it weren't for your overpowered Authority, what are you? I bet you're just a pathetic weakling who is nothing without that Authority of yours!"
(A/N: LMAO)
The force and boldness of Subaru's words sent shockwaves across the battlefield.
Eyes turned toward him in disbelief, allies and enemies alike taken aback by the sheer audacity of his statement.
Emilia's voice pierced the tension, sharp and trembling with worry."Subaru!" she shouted, panic threading her tone.
Her mind raced in alarm, realizing the danger he had just placed himself in.
Had he lost his mind?
Pride was more than capable of ending him in an instant.
A single snap of his fingers could kill Subaru from where he stood.
Their carefully crafted plan had been to divert Pride's attention, to buy time and create openings—but provoking him so directly could unravel everything, turning strategy into sheer catastrophe.
Subaru's defiance, however, was deliberate, fueled by courage, desperation, and the unyielding resolve that had carried him through countless deaths before.
But even he could feel the weight of the risk he had taken, the precarious line between daring and foolhardy, as the Sin Archbishop's eyes—or perhaps Pride's controlling presence—fixed squarely upon him.
Pride's lips curled into a cruel, calculating grin as he surveyed the group, his golden eyes glinting with amusement and malice.
"How ironic, Natsuki Subaru," he said, his voice sharp and deliberate, carrying the weight of absolute authority.
"You are, in fact, correct. Without my Authorities, I am indeed a weakling. But consider this… so are all of you. What are you without your magic? Without the physical prowess you rely upon? Without your Divine Protections? Without the legendary weapons you so proudly wield? Without those crutches, without those artificial aids, what are you truly?"
He paused, letting the question linger in the air, forcing them to reflect on their own vulnerabilities.
"In reality, you are all even weaker than I am, stripped of your powers, because your strength has always been borrowed. Mine is the power of the Witch Authorities, but yours… yours is nothing without the tools you depend on."
His words struck like a blow to the chest of every combatant present.
The weight of his argument, the cold logic behind it, pressed on their minds.
For a moment, doubt and unease flickered across their faces, the kind of unease that gnawed at one's confidence in the midst of a battle where every second counted.
Julius, however, was not one to be cowed by verbal intimidation. His blue eyes blazed with determination, and he stepped forward slightly, his voice ringing with righteous defiance.
"We didn't acquire our abilities by mere chance!" Julius retorted, his tone firm and unwavering.
"We trained relentlessly to reach the strength we possess today. Every drop of sweat, every wound, every sleepless night was a step toward what we are now. Unlike you Sin Archbishops, who rely entirely on the power of the Witch Authorities, we earned our strength through toil, perseverance, and determination!"
His words resonated deeply with his allies.
Approving glances flicked between them, brief nods of agreement passing silently through the group.
Subaru felt a spark of pride at their unspoken acknowledgment, and Emilia's eyes shone with determination as she drew strength from the shared resolve of their team.
For a moment, it seemed that Julius's declaration had created a small ripple of confidence amidst the looming despair.
Pride, however, responded not with anger, but with a deep, mirthless laugh that echoed across the battlefield, carrying a tone both mocking and threatening.
The sound was joined by the quiet, sinister laughter of Gloria and Frill, who seemed to find Julius's words simultaneously amusing and naïve.
Gloria's smirk widened as she leaned slightly forward, her voice dripping with derision.
"Is that serious, mongrel?" she taunted.
"Do you really believe your strength will mean anything in a world where there is no magic? Or if all of your Divine Protections were stripped away? Do you truly believe that your precious training, your so-called power, would allow you to survive in a situation where none of it exists?"
Her laughter lingered, sharp and cutting, as though it were meant to pierce every shred of confidence Julius had just tried to rally.
Frill, standing silently beside her, added her own quiet but devastating observation, her tone calm yet carrying an unshakeable weight of experience.
"Indeed," she said, her eyes fixed on the group as she nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth of her own words.
"They do not realize how heavily borrowed their power is. The strength they so proudly display, the abilities they cling to, all of it is borrowed from external sources. And such borrowed power, no matter how potent it may seem, always fails when it matters most."
Her gaze flickered momentarily, and for a brief instant, the memory of her own past struggles surfaced.
She had faced the Great Rabbit, the embodiment of chaos and overwhelming power, and despite being the strongest, she had ultimately failed to resolve the threat due to her power being borrowed.
The bitter lesson of that experience was etched into her expression, and now she saw the same vulnerability mirrored in these counterparts of their world.
Meanwhile, the others on the battlefield were struggling to fully comprehend the meaning behind Pride and his subordinates' words.
A world without magic?
What kind of nonsense was that?
Even for those who were naturally unable to use magic, Mana was an essential component of existence itself.
It was the very foundation that allowed humans and other beings to achieve feats far beyond ordinary limits, feats that would be otherwise impossible.
Superhuman strength, speed, and abilities—all of these were tied intrinsically to the presence of Mana and divine protections.
To suggest a world without such forces was, to them, almost incomprehensible.
For those who had lived entirely within the confines of one familiar world, the concept of a realm entirely devoid of magic and Divine Protections was absurd, bordering on fantasy.
Yet, for Alderban and Subaru, who had come from entirely different worlds or atleast had the knowledge of it, the statement struck a chord of uneasy recognition.
A thought began to form in their minds, tentative but growing stronger with each passing second.
Could it be that Pride—like them—originated from another world?
It was a possibility that made sense, one that began to solidify in their hearts.
After all, Subaru himself possessed a singular, reality-defying ability: the power to return to the past upon dying, a secret he had kept hidden from almost everyone.
Alderban too had his own unique abilities that defied conventional understanding.
In that context, it was not difficult to imagine that Pride might also wield an extraordinarily broken and abnormal power, one that could explain his seemingly impossible feats.
Priscilla, however, was less concerned with philosophical speculation and more focused on the absurdity of the statement itself.
Her eyes narrowed, and she snorted in disbelief, her tone sharp and cutting.
"I do not like the nonsense you are speaking," she said, her voice dripping with scorn.
"Are you so utterly foolish as to claim a world without magic could exist? Even across the countless dimensions, magic is always present. What kind of pathetic, weak excuse is that? All you're doing is disguising your weakness and trying to distract us with meaningless words."
Her words struck a chord with those around her, making most of the others pause and reconsider Pride's claims.
Yet Subaru and Alderban perceived something deeper, a far more nuanced and accurate understanding of the true meaning hidden behind the words of Pride's subordinate.
Where others heard only bravado and bluster, they understood perhaps Pride had more to his identity than it seemed on surface.
Meanwhile, Garfiel's attention was entirely focused on a different target: the corpse soldier of Kurgan.
His eyes blazed with fury as he gritted his teeth, his voice roaring across the battlefield like a feral beast.
"Indeed! Trying to confuse my amazing self, are you? You bastards!" he shouted, each word carrying the weight of his raw anger and unyielding determination.
"I am going to smash you to pulp and take my revenge for Mimi!"
"Oh? Revenge, is it?" Pride said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly in his seat, his posture casual yet exuding authority and menace.
"I see… that girl was harmed by one of my corpse soldiers, though he acted without my orders at the time. Still, it amuses me that you seek revenge. Such determination… such blind loyalty. Look at us now, and tell me—do you truly believe you have the strength to achieve revenge? Do you think you can possibly accomplish what you aim for?"
He spread his arms slowly, as if to encompass everyone present, his calm demeanor belying the overwhelming power he radiated.
Priscilla, her eyes narrowing in fury and determination, swung her sword with lethal precision and threw it directly toward Pride.
The blade cut through the air with incredible speed, moving so fast that it seemed to break the sound barrier, leaving a trail of sharp energy in its wake.
Everyone on the battlefield tensed, bracing for the impact, when suddenly, in a display that shocked all onlookers, Gloria calmly raised her hand and stopped the sword mid-air with nothing more than the tips of her two fingers.
Pride remained entirely shielded behind her, completely unharmed.
The sheer audacity and precision of the act left everyone momentarily speechless.
Then, with deliberate and almost casual movements, Gloria grabbed the sword's hilt and tested her grip, turning it over in her hands as if weighing its potential.
A small, approving smile played across her lips as she finally spoke aloud.
"Not bad… I will use this sword from now onwards," she declared, her voice calm but carrying an unyielding authority that demanded attention.
Alderban's eyes widened, disbelief coloring his tone as he muttered aloud, unable to hide his astonishment.
"Impossible… How can she wield the Yang Sword… unless she is from the Royal Family?" The observation was not lost on anyone.
Even Priscilla, who was normally composed and haughty, momentarily displayed a rare expression of surprise, her usual confidence shaken by the revelation.
Priscilla's gaze lingered on Gloria, her eyes narrowing as a mixture of recognition and revulsion crossed her face.
"Now that I see her clearly… this vermin truly has the same charisma as I do," she said, her voice tight with conflicted emotion.
Her aura, unmistakably radiant and powerful, emanated the essence of the Sun itself, a signature that left no doubt in her mind.
For a brief moment, it seemed she was evaluating Gloria, measuring her similarity to herself with something approaching shock.
Then, her expression twisted into pure disdain, her voice dripping with contempt.
"To think… someone so similar to me could end up a vermin."
Heinkel, still disguised as Reinhardt, stepped forward cautiously.
Inside his mind, he was cursing and questioning where the real Reinhardt might be, and when the legendary Sword Saint would finally intervene.
Despite the uncertainty, he made a calculated decision: he would risk drawing Pride's attention.
By doing so, he hoped his allies could exploit the distraction and separate the Sin Archbishops, allowing them to be taken down one by one.
Summoning all the authority and resolve he could muster, Heinkel gripped the hilt of his weapon and spoke, his voice carrying both determination and defiance.
"I… Reinhardt van Astrea, will vanquish you, Pride…" He pulled at the hilt with force, attempting to draw the Dragon Sword.
Yet, true to its sentient nature, the blade refused to respond.
It remained sheathed, ignoring his command entirely.
Heinkel grinned, a mix of frustration and dark amusement crossing his features.
"How amusing… the sword considers you all unworthy of being wielded," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing in determination despite the setback.
Pride, in response, tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes glinting from beneath the shadow of his hood.
The smirk on his face widened, the faintest shimmer of amusement reflecting in the depths of his gaze, as though he found the entire situation highly entertaining.
"Really? Does it consider… her unworthy as well?"
Zero muttered under his breath, his voice tight with tension as he pointed toward the mysterious corpse soldier.
She was the only enemy whose identity remained a complete mystery to them, her entire body obscured beneath the full robes of the Witch Cult, covering her from head to toe.
Every movement she made had been deliberate, precise, and unsettlingly mechanical, offering no clues about her true nature.
Wilhelm, hearing Pride's words, felt an immediate, cold dread settle in his chest.
He had already harbored suspicions about the identity of the figure beneath the robes.
From the moment she had displayed a command of Astrea swordsmanship so precise it could only belong to someone highly trained in their family's style, he had sensed a familiar aura.
Under different circumstances, with more time and less urgency, Wilhelm would have investigated immediately, determined to uncover the truth.
But the pressing danger and the ongoing plan—designed to keep the Sin Archbishops occupied—had forced him to delay.
Now, however, the weight of possibility pressed down on him like a physical blow.
Without warning, the corpse soldier lifted her mask in one mechanical, deliberate motion. Her hands moved with precision, as if every gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times, and then, in one dramatic flourish, she threw the mask away.
The motion was theatrical, almost mocking, and the revelation that followed hit everyone present with staggering force.
The figure beneath the robes was unmistakable.
As the mask clattered to the ground, her identity became horrifyingly clear.
Wilhelm's eyes narrowed sharply, his jaw tightening as shock and disbelief coursed through him.
Heinkel, still disguised as Reinhardt, mirrored the same reaction, his body trembling as he struggled to process the revelation.
Their hearts pounded in unison, fear and horror intertwining with disbelief.
Even among the other combatants, there was a moment of stunned silence.
Some of them, noticing subtle similarities in the figure's features—the hair, the eyes, the way she carried herself—began to form tentative conclusions.
Whispers spread through the group as realization crept into their minds.
"Theresia!" Wilhelm finally shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
The single word carried the full weight of recognition, clearing all doubts at once.
The name reverberated across the battlefield, sending a shiver through everyone present, even those who did not fully understand the connection before.
"Mother!" Heinkel cried out, his tone raw with anger, disbelief, and horror.
His emotions were unrestrained, breaking through the façade of Reinhardt's persona.
There could be no doubt—this corpse soldier was intimately familiar to both of them, someone whose very presence stirred the deepest corners of their hearts with fear and grief.
The figure before them had striking red hair that shone even under the dim battlefield light.
Her eyes, an icy and emotionless blue, met theirs without a hint of recognition or emotion, yet the truth was undeniable.
There was no mistaking it—this was the wife of Wilhelm Van Astrea, the mother of Heinkel, and the grandmother of Reinhardt.
The revelation landed like a hammer blow.
Every muscle in their bodies tensed, their minds racing to comprehend the impossible reality.
Shock, grief, and horror mingled together, leaving them momentarily paralyzed.
For Wilhelm and Heinkel, the world had narrowed to the impossibly familiar figure standing before them, her presence a nightmare brought to life.
The gravity of the situation weighed on everyone present.
The implications of what they had just discovered were unfathomable.
The revelation had shaken them to their very core, leaving an indelible mark on their resolve, their hearts, and the course of the battle that lay ahead.
To be continued...
💬 (A/N: Support the Author!)
Hey everyone! 💖
You can also join my Membership Program to get early chapters, exclusive stories, and cool illustrations!
🌟 Membership Tiers
💠 $2.5 — Trial Tier
5 chapters of Re:Zero: The Great Sage
3 chapters of Is It Wrong to Be a High-Elf in a Dungeon?
3 chapters of Pride if Alternative
5 chapters of In Mushoku Tensei with the Unique Skill Great Sage
3 chapters of Versatile Mage: Infinite Resources
💎 $5 — Respected Member
12 chapters of Re:Zero: The Great Sage
7 chapters of Is It Wrong to Be a High-Elf in a Dungeon?
12 chapters of In Mushoku Tensei with the Unique Skill Great Sage
All available chapters of Pride if Alternative
5 chapters of Versatile Mage: Infinite Resources
Exclusive Illustrations
Discord Role
🔥 $10 — Loyal Member(SOLD OUT)
20 chapters of Re:Zero: The Great Sage
15 chapters of Is It Wrong to Be a High-Elf in a Dungeon?
All available chapters of In Mushoku Tensei with the Unique Skill Great Sage
All available chapters of Pride if Alternative
All available chapters of Versatile Mage: Infinite Resources
Exclusive Illustrations
Discord Role
👑 $15 — Royal Member(One slot remaining)
30 chapters of Re:Zero: The Great Sage
25 chapters of Is It Wrong to Be a High-Elf in a Dungeon?
All available chapters of Pride if Alternative
All available chapters of In Mushoku Tensei with the Unique Skill Great Sage
All available chapters of Versatile Mage: Infinite Resources
Exclusive Illustrations
Discord Role
💫 $20 — Mommy Minerva's Sugar Child(SOLD OUT)
35 chapters of Re:Zero: The Great Sage
All available chapters of Is It Wrong to Be a High-Elf in a Dungeon?
All available chapters of every other fic
Exclusive Illustrations
Discord Role
⚔️ $30 — King Arthur Tier(SOLD OUT)
All previous perks
Special small animated scenes from my fanfics
My eternal thanks 🙏)
https://discord.gg/Xb47VnFUpQ
https://patreon.com/AkrosZero