...
{3rd Pov}
However, before anyone could truly process the despair of the moment, Reinhardt's figure suddenly blurred and vanished from where it had fallen.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared, his speed so overwhelming that even the Sin Archbishops could not follow his movement.
Passing by the twin Gluttony brothers in a flash, Reinhardt's blade sang through the air.
In one single, clean motion, both their heads were severed, their bodies collapsing to the ground before they even realized they had been struck.
No one had time to react, not even Subaru, before Reinhardt's hand moved again.
With inhuman precision, he hurled his sword across the battlefield.
The weapon spun like a streak of light and embedded itself into the forehead of Wrath, piercing through her skull and cutting short her furious roar.
Her body staggered back, lifeless, as Reinhardt's hand moved once more.
In the very next instant, as though reality itself bent to his will, the legendary divine sword Reid appeared in Reinhardt's hand out of nowhere.
Without hesitation, he unsheathed it in a single elegant motion, the sound of steel splitting the air echoing like a death knell.
He swung the blade, and in that perfect strike, Lust's head was severed cleanly from her shoulders.
Her twisted expression froze in place as her body slumped to the ground, lifeless and unmoving.
Everyone—ally and enemy alike—stood frozen in utter shock.
What had just happened was beyond comprehension.
In the span of less than three seconds, Reinhardt van Astrea had slaughtered half of the Witch Cult's Sin Archbishops, beings who were feared as calamities incarnate.
It was the kind of feat that defied reason, a display of overwhelming might that none of them could even put into words.
Reinhardt's crimson eyes then shifted, locking onto the Sin Archbishop of Greed.
Regulus calmly glided toward him, his feet never truly touching the ground, as if the world itself bent to carry him forward.
The earth beneath Regulus shifted unnaturally, sliding with him as though he were the center of existence itself.
Reinhardt's response was immediate.
He swung his sword with flawless precision, aiming to cleave Regulus apart in one blow.
But Greed was different from the others.
As the blade that could cut through any concept like paper bore down upon him, Regulus extended his hand with utter composure.
His Authority of Stillness shimmered faintly, the air freezing unnaturally around him as time itself distorted.
The divine blade struggled against the impossible barrier, its movement slowing, fighting to push forward against the overwhelming stagnation that surrounded Regulus.
For the first time in this clash, Reinhardt's sword did not cut cleanly through.
Reinhardt's eyes narrowed, recognizing the danger instantly.
Without hesitation, he abandoned the blade's arc, shifting his approach in an instant.
Dropping his stance low, he lunged forward and delivered a crushing punch straight into Regulus' chest.
The sheer force behind the blow was unlike anything mortal.
A thunderous shockwave erupted from the impact, a violent blast so powerful that it sent Reinhardt's weaker allies flying backward, scattering them across the battlefield like leaves in a storm.
Regulus' body, however, did not simply stumble or fall.
The impact hurled him skyward like a missile fired from the earth itself.
His Authority of Stillness offered no protection against the raw, overwhelming force Reinhardt had delivered.
In less than a heartbeat, the Sin Archbishop of Greed was launched so high, so fast, that his body pierced the very atmosphere.
His figure became nothing more than a vanishing speck of light, lost to the heavens, disappearing from sight as if erased from the world itself.
It was almost ironic.
Now it was Regulus' turn to become a constellation in the night sky.
Well—he already fancied himself one with his name.
Frill immediately moved, her instincts kicking in as she threw herself in front of Zero, using her own body as a shield to absorb the brunt of the devastating shockwave.
The ground cracked beneath her feet as the force rippled outward, while Gloria, wasting no time, darted closer to Zero's side, ready to defend him the moment the opportunity arose.
When at last the thunderous shockwave subsided and the dust began to settle, Subaru stumbled back into view.
He had been flipped upside down and hurled across the ground during the chaos, his clothes scuffed and his body aching.
Groaning, he forced himself upright, brushing dirt off his face, before his wide eyes locked onto a figure he thought he'd never see again.
His heart skipped a beat as recognition struck him.
"Reinhardt… you… you're alive?!" Subaru blurted out, his voice filled with raw shock and disbelief.
He had been certain—absolutely certain—that Reinhardt was gone for good after Pride had used his Authority to snuff out his life.
He had already prepared himself for the crushing reality of Reinhardt's death, so to see him standing there once more felt almost unreal.
Crusch, always sharp and composed even under pressure, immediately pressed for answers.
"Was Pride's Authority truly unable to affect you?" she demanded, her gaze focused intently on Reinhardt.
At her question, all eyes turned toward him, the air thick with tension as everyone waited for his reply.
Reinhardt's expression softened into a calm smile, and he answered without hesitation, his eyes fixed firmly on Pride.
"I did die," he admitted openly, his tone matter-of-fact.
"And I will not sugarcoat it—it was far from a wonderful experience. However—" He straightened, his presence radiating quiet confidence as he continued, "I simply resurrected. Pride, your Authority is useless against me."
The declaration seemed resolute, almost arrogant, as though he were entirely unshaken.
To those listening, it sounded like the Sword Saint himself had overcome the insurmountable.
Relief flickered across their faces.
But the truth, hidden beneath Reinhardt's calm exterior, was far more dangerous than his allies realized.
In reality, Reinhardt was lying through his teeth.
The only reason his composure held was because of his Divine Protection of Acting, which allowed him to hide his emotions flawlessly. Inside, he was sweating nervously.
The truth was far grimmer: even if he could resurrect an infinite number of times, Pride could just as easily kill him an infinite number of times.
It was not victory he faced—it was a stalemate that could grind them all into despair.
What unsettled him even more was what had happened during his resurrection.
When his Divine Protection of the Phoenix activated, he had felt resistance—an obstruction, as though Pride's Authority had been clashing with the very concept of his revival.
That interference was strong enough that, for a terrifying moment, Reinhardt had believed his resurrection would fail.
To return to life, he had been forced to consume not just one, but two uses of his Phoenix's Divine Protection simultaneously.
Even he knew what that meant: against Pride's Authority, his ability to return from death was not absolute.
It was fragile, unstable, and far more dangerous than anyone else could realize.
The thought weighed on him heavily.
If he was struck down again and his revival failed, then everything would end in an instant.
Worse still, even if he could keep coming back, what would it matter if Pride slaughtered the others in the meantime?
His lady, his companions, his comrades-in-arms—if all of them were wiped out while he lingered in the cycle of death and resurrection, then what meaning would his existence hold?
He would no longer be Reinhardt van Astrea, protector and Sword Saint.
He would be nothing but a hollow monster, endlessly reviving and endlessly failing, incapable of defeating an Authority so twisted that it denied even the strongest man alive the certainty of victory.
And Reinhardt knew it: against Pride's sickly Authority, even he stood on the razor's edge.
"That's the Sword Saint for you!" Garf bellowed, his voice filled with excitement and admiration as he pumped his fists in the air.
His reaction was raw, loud, and unrestrained, just like him.
Felt, standing nearby, grinned with satisfaction, her sharp eyes narrowing on Pride with confidence.
"So what now?" she asked with a mocking edge in her tone.
"Your Authority is useless against him, Sin Archbishop of Pride. All that arrogance of yours has amounted to nothing."
Crusch, regaining some of the steel in her voice, stepped forward and added her own words, her tone strong and commanding.
"Yes, you still have a chance to surrender. If you do, then at the very least we can prevent you from being executed on the spot."
For just a moment, it seemed as though a glimpse of her former self had returned—the dignified and calculating leader she had once been after all only her original self could be so stupid.
Pride's eyes narrowed, his expression twitching with irritation.
"You speak as if I have already lost," he shot back, his voice firm.
Without missing a beat, Subaru raised his voice in retort.
"Lost? Don't spout nonsense! All the other Sin Archbishops are dead now, every last one of them except you! If that doesn't count as losing, then what in the world does?"
Before he could continue, a sharp tug on his ear made him yelp in pain.
"Ouch! Ow, ow, ow! Emilia! What did I do this time?!" Subaru cried out, desperately trying to free himself from her grip.
Emilia frowned at him, her cheeks puffed out in a pout that looked equal parts adorable and frustrated.
"Idiot Subaru!" she scolded, glaring at him as she continued to pull his ear.
"Why are you always antagonizing someone who can kill you without a second thought? Do you have any idea how nervous I was watching you goad him like that? I thought my heart was going to stop!"
Subaru flailed his arms in protest, grimacing as the pain continued.
"But I was doing it to trick him, Emilia! You know, misdirection, buying time and all that!" he complained, trying to justify himself.
Emilia rolled her eyes and finally let go of his ear, crossing her arms with a huff.
"Of course I knew that, which is exactly why I stayed quiet and didn't interfere. But tell me, Subaru—why are you still doing it now, when the battle's already been decided? We've practically won, haven't we? So what's the point of picking another fight with him?"
Subaru froze, his mouth half open but no words coming out.
For once, he had no immediate excuse, no witty remark to fire back with.
She was right, and he knew it.
Why was he doing it?
He couldn't even answer himself.
Meanwhile, Pride watched the scene unfold before him, and for the first time, he felt something that could only be described as exasperation.
He dragged his hand across his face, pressing his palm into his forehead as though he was trying to stop a headache.
These fools… were they seriously chatting so casually, so carelessly, as if they were already celebrating victory?
Did they truly believe the fight was over while he still stood before them?
Pride could hardly believe it.
Their nonchalance in his presence was almost more insulting than their words.
"Krill, Gloria… give them a show," Pride ordered casually, his tone carrying that arrogant confidence he always exuded.
Gloria's lips curved into a grin immediately, her eyes glinting with anticipation.
She had been restraining herself all this time, but now that her father had given her the command, there was no longer a need to hold back.
Finally, she could unleash her strength.
Across the battlefield, Reinhardt's unsheathed sword quivered ever so slightly in his hand, the blade trembling as though it shared his intent.
His weapon pointed directly at Frill, the movement deliberate and unmistakable.
It was undeniable—Reinhardt had been able to draw the blade against her because the weapon itself deemed her a worthy opponent.
To be considered such by a weapon of that caliber was proof enough of her danger.
Wilhelm, standing firm with his own sword in hand, spoke with the calm and collected tone of a man who had already resolved himself.
"I will handle Theresia… you all focus on the Sin Archbishop," he said, his voice roughened by age but steady with conviction.
For him, the fight was already decided in his heart.
All that remained was to free his beloved wife from the curse of being reduced to nothing more than a corpse soldier.
His resolve was unwavering.
The others quickly snapped back into focus.
Whatever momentary relief they had felt earlier was gone; reality crashed back into them.
They were still in the middle of a dangerous battle, and the enemy before them was not one to underestimate.
"Bastard! Get ready to die!" Garfiel growled, his fangs bared in a savage grin as he cracked his knuckles, ready to throw himself at the nearest opponent without hesitation.
Beside him, Ricardo gave his trademark toothy smile, his eyes narrowing with determination.
"I've got a score to settle too. I still need to avenge Mimi… so let's do this together," he said, his tone carrying the weight of personal vengeance.
(Author's Note: Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that Pride is actually Zero in disguise, these fools would have already been slaughtered by now.)
With that, the roles on the battlefield became clearer.
The two corpse soldiers, Theresia and Kurgan, had their opponents—Wilhelm and joint team of Garfield and Ricard were set to engage them.
That meant the remaining fighters only needed to concentrate their efforts on taking down the Sin Archbishop himself and the two subordinates who still stood at his side.
Their confidence began to peak again, as though victory was within their grasp.
But just as the atmosphere seemed to tilt in their favor, the very sky itself shifted.
In an instant, golden ripples spread outward, distorting the heavens above like the surface of disturbed water.
The battlefield froze for a heartbeat as everyone watched in shock.
Then, without warning, thousands of weapons—each forged from radiant light—emerged from those ripples, manifesting one after another until the entire sky was filled with them.
Spears, swords, axes, and countless other armaments hovered ominously, aimed downward, each one gleaming with deadly promise.
The confidence that had been burning so brightly moments ago was immediately drowned in the overwhelming presence of that arsenal.
Frill, without hesitation or even the slightest pause, lunged forward and directly clashed against Reinhardt.
The moment their weapons connected, the entire battlefield seemed to shudder under the sheer force of their collision.
What made the scene so bizarre was the weapon in Frill's hands.
She wasn't wielding a legendary blade, nor a weapon forged by master smiths.
Instead, she held nothing more than a randomly chosen wooden branch, something so ordinary it looked like it had been plucked from the forest floor at a whim.
And yet, against Reinhardt—the Sword Saint himself, wielder of the world's strongest sword—this unimpressive stick was enough to create a shocking outcome.
The clash ended in an instant, and the result was both humiliating and terrifying.
Reinhardt, the strongest warrior alive, was sent flying through the air as though he were nothing more than a ragdoll tossed aside by a careless child.
He crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the earth trembling beneath his fall.
The undeniable truth revealed itself in that single exchange: Frill's attack was superior.
At the same time, Gloria entered the fray with her usual manic energy.
She unleashed a full-scale bombardment, her laughter ringing out madly over the battlefield.
Blasts of destructive force rained down like relentless artillery, shaking the very air with their intensity.
Just moments ago, Subaru's team had been filled with confidence, believing themselves to be on the verge of victory.
But that fragile hope was instantly shattered.
In the face of Gloria's insane barrage, they were forced back into the same desperate struggle as before, scrambling just to stay alive under the overwhelming pressure.
"Damn it, vermin!" Priscilla roared, her crimson eyes blazing with fury.
She drew her Yang Sword with a flourish, the blade igniting in dazzling flames of radiant power. With a sweeping strike, she cleaved through Gloria's magical bombardment, her weapon cutting apart streams of Yang magic as though they were nothing but air.
More than that, the Yang Sword began to absorb Gloria's attacks, devouring the energy and channeling it back into itself, becoming stronger with every passing second.
Gloria, however, was no fool.
The moment she noticed what was happening, she immediately shifted her tactics.
With a wicked grin, she closed the distance in a blink, appearing right in front of Priscilla.
In her hand was another weapon—a perfect copy of the Yang Sword itself, a blade she had stolen from Priscilla previously and now wielded with malicious delight.
The two clashed instantly, their blades meeting in a series of explosive strikes.
Sparks and fire filled the air as they exchanged blow after blow, the battlefield echoing with the sound of steel ringing against steel.
Their duel was fierce and brutal, but compared to what was happening elsewhere, it almost felt like a mere side skirmish.
Because the true battle—the one that shook the entire field—was the confrontation between Reinhardt and Frill.
Reinhardt had taken the fight into the skies, his figure ascending rapidly as if gravity itself meant nothing to him.
Using his Divine Protection, he stepped on the empty air as though it were solid stone beneath his feet, each step steady and deliberate.
High above the battlefield, he met Frill's assault head-on, their weapons colliding with an intensity that shook the heavens.
In the span of a single second, their blades and strikes had already clashed thousands of times. Slashes, parries, deflections, and evasions blurred together into a storm of movements so fast that the human eye could not possibly keep up.
Sparks burst into existence every time their weapons collided, filling the sky with blinding flashes of light.
The spectacle was awe-inspiring, yet horrifying at the same time—two combatants moving at speeds beyond comprehension, every strike powerful enough to annihilate ordinary warriors many times over.
What unsettled Reinhardt most was the absurdity of the situation.
His blade—the Dragon Sword Reid, the mightiest weapon in the world, capable of cutting through any concept itself—was meeting resistance from the most unlikely thing imaginable.
His opponent wielded no legendary weapon, no holy relic, no blade forged by gods or imbued with sorcery.
Frill fought with nothing more than a stick, a plain wooden branch that looked as though it had been plucked carelessly from the ground.
And yet, every time Reid struck against it, the branch held firm.
The sound of their clashes was not the splintering of wood, but the ringing of steel against steel.
Reinhardt's eyes narrowed as he fought, his mind straining to comprehend the impossible truth.
Why was such an ordinary object able to withstand the might of his sword?
Why did it defy all logic, all reason, and all the rules of the world itself?
There was no answer, only the reality that stood before him.
So, Reinhardt continued to press forward, tightening his grip on his blade as he strained against Frill's relentless attacks.
The air trembled from the force of their strikes, shockwaves expanding outward in every direction with each collision.
Sonic booms split the sky as their battle climbed higher and higher, their figures vanishing and reappearing in the blink of an eye, the heavens themselves becoming their arena.
Meanwhile, on the ground, the chaos continued.
Gloria, ever grinning with manic delight, broke through Priscilla's defenses with ruthless precision.
In a sudden movement, her blade slashed cleanly through Priscilla's arm, severing the hand that held the Yang Sword.
Blood sprayed into the air as the severed hand fell, and before Priscilla could even register the pain, Gloria's foot buried itself into her stomach with a savage kick.
The impact forced the air from her lungs, sending her stumbling backward.
"Princess!" Aldebaran shouted, his mechanical voice booming through the chaos as he caught sight of Priscilla faltering.
Watching her body about to crash down, he made a desperate decision.
Abandoning all attempts to dodge the rain of deadly projectiles, he threw himself forward.
Two glowing weapons of light pierced directly into his chest, their searing impact burning through his armor and flesh, yet he ignored the pain.
His priority was clear.
With his remaining strength, he caught Priscilla mid-fall, cradling her in his arms and preventing her from smashing into the ground below.
Blood poured from his wounds, but his grip on her was unyielding.
"Emilia!" Subaru yelled, his voice sharp and urgent as he gave the signal.
Immediately recognizing his intent, Emilia nodded without hesitation.
She extended her hand, and freezing winds swirled violently around her.
Ice burst forth in great spires, forming a massive crystalline barrier that stretched across the battlefield.
The enormous shield of ice shimmered brilliantly in the light of the ongoing battle, covering their group and granting them a momentary reprieve from the relentless onslaught.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they had space to breathe.
"Al Claurista!" Julius roared, his incantation ringing out with authority.
In an instant, his entire body was enveloped in radiant light, each hue of the rainbow wrapping around him like armor.
With speed and elegance only he could muster, he dashed forward, his blade gleaming with multicolored brilliance.
Gloria, now wielding the stolen Yang Sword, met his charge without hesitation, her grin widening as she raised the weapon to intercept him.
Their clash erupted in a blinding explosion of sparks and light, neither giving ground.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Crusch, Felix, and Heinkel rallied together, their determination unshaken.
Side by side, they charged directly at Pride, blades and magic prepared to pierce through his arrogance and bring him down.
Their combined assault was fierce, coordinated, and filled with conviction, yet the oppressive presence of Pride made every step feel like a march into the jaws of death.
At the same time, Garfiel, Wilhelm, and Ricardo found themselves locked in brutal combat against the two corpse soldiers.
Despite the suffocating bombardment of Yang magic that rained down around them, they fought on with everything they had, their willpower driving them forward even as the battlefield shook with every strike.
Wilhelm's blade sought to free Theresia, Garfiel's claws tore through the air, and Ricardo's strength roared out in every blow, all three holding their ground against overwhelming odds.
Above them all, Emilia once again raised her hands, channeling her mana with fierce determination.
Her ice spread even further, the shield expanding until it covered the entire plaza.
The massive barrier of frozen crystal towered like a fortress, effectively neutralizing Gloria's bombardment by absorbing and deflecting the destructive blasts.
For now, at least, her magic had created a sanctuary, a fragile space of safety in the middle of a hellish battlefield.
"Do you really think something like this is enough to stop me, you pathetic mongrels?!" Gloria screamed, her voice filled with unhinged laughter as she unleashed her power.
In an instant, dozens of golden ripples opened in the air around Zero, and from them countless gleaming weapons of light began to manifest.
Spears, swords, and axes floated ominously in the air, forming a barrier of destruction meant to shield her master from every angle.
Julius, however, was relentless.
His voice rang out once more, echoing across the battlefield as he called upon his arts.
"Al Claurzeria!" he shouted, his body glowing again with multicolored radiance as his blade slashed forward.
The arc of rainbow light tore through the space, intercepting Gloria's attempt to launch a massive volley.
Because of his strike, she was unable to summon hundreds of projectiles like before, but even the dozens she did release were enough to stall and keep Julius, along with the others, completely occupied.
But then, at that precise moment, a new figure emerged from the chaos.
Felt, who had been concealed within a swirling orb of compressed wind magic, suddenly burst free.
Her small frame darted forward like a blur, slipping through the gaps in the barrage with reckless determination.
In the blink of an eye, she was standing just a few meters away from Zero.
Her daggers gleamed as the wind whirled violently around her, and she lunged forward, swinging her blades with the intent to slit his throat where he stood.
Snap!
The sharp sound rang out as Zero casually snapped his fingers.
Felt's body seized up instantly.
Her legs lost all strength, collapsing beneath her as though her very life had been drained from them.
She crashed to the ground helplessly, her momentum destroyed.
Zero turned his head toward her with a cold, mocking expression, his voice dripping with scorn.
"Did you honestly believe I would fall for such a pathetic trick a second time?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing as Felt's body passed by him.
He regarded her as if she were little more than an insect, powerless at his feet, his smirk widening at her desperation.
But before his arrogance could cement his victory, something unexpected happened.
Crack!
A whip lashed forward and coiled tightly around his throat, yanking him back before he could react.
Zero's mocking grin twisted into a look of shock as he choked, his body violently pulled off balance.
In the next instant, the force of the whip hurled him upward, his figure flung into the sky with brutal force.
Gloria's sharp eyes narrowed the instant she noticed Pride being pulled upward and strangled by Subaru's whip.
She attempted to summon her magic to blast Subaru and free her master.
"Al Claritsa!"
But Julius was faster.
With his blade already glowing brilliantly, he lunged forward without hesitation.
The rainbow-clad knight intercepted her mid-incantation, his sword cleaving through the air in a dazzling arc.
His strike landed with explosive force, the impact throwing Gloria's body backward across the battlefield.
The golden weapons she had manifested flickered for a moment, destabilized by the attack, before fading away.
At that very moment, Beatrice, standing firmly beside Subaru, turned her attention toward the airborne figure of Pride.
Her tiny frame trembled with exertion, but her blue eyes burned with focus.
She stretched out her hand, her voice rising with determination as she shouted, "Al Minya!"
A surge of magical energy condensed instantly at her fingertips, forming into a glowing, destructive purple beam.
Without hesitation, she released it, the blast shooting forward like a lance aimed directly at Pride's chest.
The air itself seemed to freeze in that instant.
Time felt stretched, slowed to a crawl as every fighter present witnessed what was happening.
Emilia, Crusch, Wilhelm, Julius, Felix, Heinkel, Aldebaran, the badly injured Priscilla, Ricardo, Garfiel, and even the weakened Felt—all of them, each blessed with extraordinary senses, locked their eyes on the scene before them.
They watched, breathless, as the purple beam of Beatrice's spell surged toward Pride.
He was still suspended in the air, flailing as Subaru's whip remained firmly wrapped around his throat, strangling him and restricting his movement.
His figure twisted helplessly, pulled upward, completely unable to stabilize himself.
Gloria had been knocked away by Julius, unable to intervene. Frill was still locked in her fierce duel with Reinhardt high above, far too occupied to come to his rescue.
In that fleeting moment, the impossible seemed within their grasp.
Pride, the Sin Archbishop who had mocked and toyed with them all this time, was finally cornered.
With his escape routes cut off, his subordinates restrained, and Subaru's whip preventing him from using that bizarre ability to teleport freely with keeping his mind muddled, it looked as though he had no way out.
The beam from Beatrice's spell was moments away from piercing through him.
For the first time, the group dared to believe they had him.
The sight of Pride falling helplessly toward his death filled them with hope they hadn't felt since the battle began.
But then, before the beam could connect, a voice rang out.
Another voice cried out the same spell—"Al Minya!"—but this one was different.
The tone, the pitch, the cadence of the words, it was unmistakably familiar.
Everyone's heads snapped toward the sound, and what they saw left them stunned.
The source of the spell wasn't Beatrice at all.
It was beside Pride—no, beside Zero himself.
Another Beatrice had appeared out of nowhere, her tiny frame eerily identical to the real one.
She mirrored the original Betty in every possible way: the same hairstyle, the same outfit, the same expression that burned with determination.
She raised her hand in perfect sync, and her spell clashed head-on with Beatrice's own purple beam.
The two attacks collided in mid-air, bursting violently in a flash of light.
Sparks rained down as both spells canceled each other out, neutralizing into nothingness as if neither had ever existed.
The shockwave from the clash rippled outward, knocking dust and rubble across the battlefield.
The opportunity they thought they had—the chance to finally finish Pride—was gone in an instant.
Pride's body slammed onto the ground, coughing violently as air finally returned to his lungs.
The whip around his throat loosened and snapped apart, falling uselessly.
He dropped to one knee, saliva dripping from his mouth as he hacked and struggled to breathe again.
"Subaru! Are you okay?!" the newly appeared Beatrice screamed, her small body dashing to Subaru's side without hesitation.
Her panic was raw, her voice cracking with the fear that he might collapse at any second.
She grabbed his sleeve and tugged at him, desperate for reassurance.
Zero or Subaru staggered, his body weakened from the struggle of being choked.
His hood, which had remained firmly in place throughout everything until now, finally fell away in the chaos.
The fabric slipped back, revealing his face clearly for the first time in the battle.
Everyone froze.
Their eyes widened, and disbelief spread like wildfire through the group.
It wasn't just a resemblance.
It wasn't "kind of similar."
It wasn't a vague lookalike.
No—this was exact.
The face underneath the hood was identical to Subaru's own.
The same jet-black hair fell across his forehead.
The same sharp cheekbones, the same jawline, the same nose and lips—everything was perfectly mirrored, as if someone had duplicated him and placed that copy in front of them.
There was only one difference, but that difference was impossible to ignore.
His eyes.
Unlike Subaru's, which were their usual dark hue, this version's irises gleamed with a sharp, radiant gold, glowing with an unnatural brilliance that seemed to pierce through the battlefield haze.
And then, to make matters even worse, the newly manifested Beatrice turned toward him—toward Zero—and with unshakable certainty in her voice, she had cried out a name that shattered what little sense of reality remained.
She had called him 'Subaru!'
The next moment, Emilia's massive ice shield shattered violently, fragments exploding outward as something pierced clean through it.
A severed head smashed into the colored cobblestone ground with a sickening thud, rolling before finally coming to a stop.
Right beside it, a radiant blade slammed into the earth, embedding itself deep into the stone with a heavy, echoing impact.
The ground cracked around the point of impact, dust rising into the air. There was no mistaking what it was—the Dragon Sword itself, Reinhardt's very own blade, now planted into the battlefield like a marker of doom.
And the head?
The features were unmistakable, even in death. It belonged to Reinhardt Van Astrea.
Gloria's expression didn't flicker with hesitation.
She reacted instantly, vaporizing the rain of ice shards from the destroyed shield with a sweep of her power.
Her figure blurred as she reappeared at Zero's—no, Pride's—side.
Or perhaps it was better to call him what he looked like now: another Subaru.
"Father, are you alright?" Gloria's usually sharp tone softened, her voice dripping with worry as she bent down to him.
Without pause, she began channeling healing magic into his body, her hands glowing faintly as the energy seeped into his wounds.
"Master! Please forgive me," Frill said with visible guilt, rushing to his side as well.
Her voice cracked with frustration as she dropped to one knee.
"Forgive me for not being able to finish the fight earlier!"
She clutched his hand tightly, rubbing her cheek against it like a devoted servant desperate for forgiveness.
The battlefield itself seemed to fall silent at the bizarre display.
Everyone who stood against them—Emilia, Crusch, Julius, Wilhelm, Subaru's allies—watched in complete shock.
Their faces were blank with disbelief, their minds struggling to process what they were witnessing.
Subaru himself stood frozen in place.
His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
His eyes trembled as he stared across the plaza, locked onto Pride.
His brain screamed denial, yet his eyes could not lie to him.
He was looking at himself.
Another Subaru.
And not just another Subaru.
That "other" Subaru stood side by side with another Beatrice.
The little spirit who was supposed to be his one and only companion now had a duplicate standing proudly beside his golden-eyed double.
Even Beatrice—his Beatrice—was rattled to her core.
She stared at the strange copy of herself with wide, unblinking eyes, her lips parting in disbelief.
"This… this is impossible…" she whispered, her usual stubborn confidence shattered.
The others, too, were horrified.
Emilia covered her mouth with trembling hands, Crusch's grip tightened around her sword, Julius's eyes darted back and forth in confusion, and Garfiel growled lowly, his teeth grinding together.
None of them could make sense of what they were seeing.
How could there be two Subarus?
How could there be two Beatrices?
The question weighed on all of them.
And as their minds whirled, only one thought clawed at them louder than the rest:
Pride…
Just who—no, just what—was he?
To be continued...
(A/N: There is a important notice I want to give in advance, a week later for about two to three weeks I will go on a vacation to my village and countryside, during that period don't expect chapters at all. I will notify it from when it starts on my discord, if any chap I write during that period(Which i would like one chap of any fic daily or in two days) I will upload it on Patreon.
I have two other re zero fanfics on Ao3, and started a third one on the request of a friend who has been begging me for months.
So that makes four of my re zero fanfics.
Now because i will be going on vacation so I decided to give u guys this chap earlier since you will be dehydrated for like a month at worse.
Also you can join my discord and see the lates announcement of Rl craft if you are interested, also please read the server rules. I don't want anyone to step over any boundaries.
Xb47VnFUpQ (Here is infinite invitation code)
taaCsGPcu (Here is the temporary invitation code, should expire in two weeks)
Also I hope you liked the chapter!
PS: Don't curse me later on if you don't get a slot on Patreon and ask me for more slots. Because if I try to make people remember their financial responsibilities and then limit my slots(For my benefits) it makes look like I am deliberately hurting your chances to get chapters, and then people bug me for slots.)