Pride stood tall, posture loose but unnervingly confident. The elongated, ink-black blade hummed faintly in his grip, its jagged edges pulsating like a living thing. One hand clamped around the hilt, fingers flexing with anticipation. His stance wasn't elegant—sloppy, even—but raw power and arrogance bled from every inch of his frame.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, that predatory grin curling across his face.
"I don't think I need precision for ya'll, lol."
His voice barely carried beyond a murmur—
SWOOSH—
The ground shattered beneath his feet as Pride vanished—blurring forward with such force the earth caved in behind him, a concussive boom rippling outward as a shockwave.
The nearest cultist didn't even have time to react.
The onyx blade carved a vicious, upward diagonal arc, slicing clean through flesh and bone—from hip to opposite shoulder. Blood fanned across the air in a grotesque spray, the cultist's body folding in half like a broken doll.
CLANG—!
Pride didn't pause—already pivoting into the next threat.
A dagger sparked harmlessly off his blade as he batted it aside with contemptuous ease. His counterstrike was surgical—a ruthless lunge straight through the cultist's throat. Choked gurgles barely escaped their lips before black thorns erupted violently from every inch of their body—spiking outward in jagged, twisted shapes, shredding flesh from within.
More approached. Their faces painted with enraged looks, their movements slow, but erratic.
But it didn't matter.
The first swung wildly—only for their dagger to veer off course, the very air around Pride warping to deny the strike. Confusion flared in their eyes… before the world inverted entirely.
A severed head tumbled through the air.
Before it could hit the ground, Pride's blade was already carving clean through the second cultist, bisecting them from groin to skull with one effortless, sweeping stroke.
Their corpse slid apart, a cascade of crimson staining the dirt as they hit the ground with a wet, sickening squelch.
Pride exhaled, casually adjusting his grip on the blade.
The battlefield stilled for a moment, only the sounds of dripping blood and distant whimpers filling the air.
"It's like you all wanna die or something, running at me like this..."
The ground was soaked in blood—slick, glistening, and littered with mutilated corpses. Limbs scattered like broken dolls. Entrails dangled from rooftops. The stench of iron clung to the air like fog. To anyone else, it would be a nightmare.
The next cultist barely had time to scream. The ground beneath them twisted unnaturally as inky darkness spiraled up like smoke. Jagged, obsidian teeth erupted from the shadows, slamming shut around the fanatic's leg with a sickening crunch. Bone shattered, muscle tore. The body collapsed forward in a pitiful heap of agony—
Right onto the tip of Pride's waiting blade.
The ebony sword plunged clean through, the cultist's body twitching and convulsing as it slid down to the hilt, crimson pooling at Pride's feet.
Above, wind surged. A colossal, spectral hand—pulsing with Betelgeuse's twisted essence—ripped through the air, barreling down toward Pride, intending to devastate.
SWOOSH—
Pride didn't flinch. His grip tightened. A brutal, horizontal slash cleaved through another approaching cultist, blood spraying in a wide arc.
His gaze snapped skyward, cold and unbothered as the monstrous hand descended.
"Idiot!"
CRAAASH—!!
Stone and dirt exploded upward, smoke billowing in thick clouds. The impact crater groaned beneath the weight of the phantom limb.
But Pride stood untouched within the wreckage.
The enormous fingers twitched—hesitated—moving narrowly mid-descent as if the very laws of existence denied them the right to touch him.
"You got lucky once.." Pride spat, stepping casually onto the massive arm. "But luck isn't enough to harm me, twice. At least at the level you're at, so what, still roughly starter level?"
"WHY—?! WHYWHYWHY!! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE—!!"
Betelgeuse's voice shrieked from below, maddened, broken.
Pride sprinted up the spectral forearm, his figure a shadowy streak against the purple glow. With a leap, he launched himself into the air, his sword dissolving into mist.
His hand extended—palm wide, authority surging.
FWOOOM—!
A jagged spike of abyssal blackness burst forth, snaking down like a spear of unholy punishment. It pierced Betelgeuse clean through, thinner tendrils lashing outward, skewering his limbs and pinning him midair like a grotesque marionette.
"Ugghh… guh—"
Betelgeuse choked, blood pouring from his mouth, his body held aloft by the merciless tendrils.
Pride landed soundlessly a few meters away, approaching with deliberate calm.
A flick of his wrist—SNAP!
The tendrils yanked savagely, ripping an arm clean from its socket.
Another flick—CRACK!
The second arm followed, flesh and bone torn as easily as paper.
Standing within arm's reach, Pride's expression twisted into a smirk that oozed arrogance.
"Oh oh, 'Tella told me she hates you by the way."
Betelgeuse's eyes widened, blood mixing with bile.
"Wha—"
CLEAVE—!
The ebony blade materialized in Pride's grip. A single, merciless vertical slash severed the Archbishop's head from his shoulders. The body fell limp, strings of Pride's darkness dissipating like smoke in the wind.
The village was silent now.
Only ruin remained—bodies, limbs, organs painting the streets red.
Pride exhaled, the blade vanishing. The shadows ebbed away as he relinquished control.
Subaru's eyes fluttered open, returning to their more human hue.
The carnage around him hit like a punch to the gut. The stench of blood, the twisted bodies—it sickened him. But beneath the disgust… there was something else.
Satisfaction.
Pride's useful… terrifying… but useful.
A faint whisper clawed at the back of his mind. Betelgeuse's presence trying to cling on, lingering like a foul aftertaste. But it dulled… faded… until silence returned.
And then—
SWOOSH—
Footsteps. Fast.
Satoru Gojo emerged from the treeline—shirtless, body streaked with dried blood, cerulean eyes wide with uncharacteristic shock.
"Ugh… dude… what the hell did you—"
Gojo's voice faltered as he took in the scene. His gaze shifted from the corpses to Subaru's blood-streaked form.
"I cleaned up... they deserved it after all."
Gojo's brows furrowed. His usual cocky expression giving way to unease.
"Yeah, but… didn't know you had this in you..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Subaru shrugged, deep in thought.
This loop went faster… better, even when I was fighting these guys with the soldiers, Wilhelm and Rem.
And if things went south again…
He'd just let Pride off the leash again.
His eyes met Gojo's.
"You got enough juice left to teleport us to Flugel's Tree?" Subaru asked. "Emilia, Petra… and most of the villagers are headed to wherever the sanctuary is.. We'll catch up.. even if she might not wanna see me."
Gojo sighed, cracking his neck.
"Yeah… guess so."
"But what to do... I can't exactly show up to Emilia-tan drenched head-to-toe in blood!" Subaru muttered, glancing down at his crimson-stained clothes, expression caught somewhere between sheepish and exasperated.
Gojo snorted, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"Now that sounds more like the Subaru I remember. I'll find a river or something on the way."
SWOOSH—
Space warped, the air folding in on itself as the pair vanished, the world stitching itself back together in their absence.
——————————————————
Near Flugel's Tree…
Reality snapped into place, depositing them at the base of the colossal, ancient tree. Its massive, gnarled branches stretched into the sky like skeletal fingers, looming over the battlefield.
Subaru barely had time to get his bearings before Gojo tensed beside him, his playful demeanor fading.
"There's trouble… Wilhelm's holding them off, but it's crawling with cultists. And the refugees from the village… they're caught up in this too."
Subaru's jaw clenched as his eyes strained toward the distant commotion, though he could barely make out shapes in the chaos.
"Right—"
Gojo cut him off with a nod, already reading his mind.
"You go find your little crush. Smooth things over. I'll lend Wilhelm a hand… not that the old man needs it, but hearts and flowers aren't really my thing."
——————————————————
On the Battlefield…
Steel sang through the air as Wilhelm sliced clean through a charging cultist, blood trailing behind the arc of his blade. Another fanatic fell, and another—the old swordsman a blur of lethal precision.
But the swarm was relentless.
A cultist broke through the defensive line, sprinting toward the vulnerable carriages along the dirt trail where villagers cowered.
CRUNCH—!
Gojo dropped from the sky like a meteor, boot slamming down onto the cultist's spine with bone-shattering force. The ground cracked beneath the impact. With a casual hop, he stepped off the twitching corpse and raised a hand.
"Yo, old man!"
Wilhelm dispatched another enemy with a single, surgical stroke before turning, eyes narrowing at Gojo's shirtless form. Although there were no blood anymore, it was obvious to tell that he's been through quite the battle.
"You're alive." Wilhelm observed with a nod, slicing apart a lunging cultist without so much as glancing their way.
"Barely, but yeah." Gojo replied with a lopsided grin, leaning back to let a dagger whistle harmlessly past before greeting the attacker with a backhand that launched them across the field like a ragdoll. "That Archbishop nearly sent me packing… but hey, I picked up a few new tricks 'cause of it, right now I'm exhausted as hell though.."
Wilhelm allowed himself a rare smirk, his sword flashing again to disarm and impale two more enemies in a seamless motion.
"You're unlike anyone I've ever met. Facing down an Archbishop… and Regulus Corneas, no less. Most men wouldn't walk away from that."
Gojo's brow arched mid-swing as his fist collided with another fanatic, sending them sprawling.
"Regulus? You know him?"
Wilhelm's expression darkened, eyes narrowing.
"Few do. His existence isn't exactly public knowledge… but certain nobles occasionally whisper about him. I know of him because of what happened in Vollachia, years ago. He slayed a very powerful warrior that I myself had the honor of battling in the past..."
"Vollachia…" Gojo echoed, voice trailing with suspicion. "I can see how he's able to just walk into a kingdom and start throwing hands, he is literally untouchable after all."
Another cultist lunged. Gojo's hand snapped up, fingers flaring with blue light as the attacker was crushed mid-air by an invisible force.
Wilhelm's gaze flickered over Gojo's display, watching the mangled corpse spiral through the air like discarded trash.
"Such peculiar magic… truly unlike anything I've ever seen before.." the old swordsman remarked, voice low with quiet curiosity.
Gojo smirked, casually flicking his wrist as if it were all child's play.
"Right? I am pretty amazing, I know."
A chuckle escaped Wilhelm as his sword lowered slightly.
"And Subaru… is he alright?"
Gojo shrugged. His grin softened, though his eyes hinted at quiet concern.
"…I think? He's a bit different than before. But hey, still practically foaming at the mouth for Emilia, so… can't be that bad."
"That's… certainly an analogy?" Wilhelm mused with a small shake of his head.
——————————————————
Several Hours Later…
The steady rumble of wheels and the rhythmic clatter of ground-dragon hooves filled the air as the convoy of carriages rolled along the dirt path.
In the back of one such carriage, Gojo snored loudly, sprawled against the side, limbs tangled awkwardly as he dozed—unbothered by the gaggle of Arlam Village children surrounding him like kittens.
Subaru sat nearby, his eyes trailing over Gojo, the faintest frown on his lips.
Pride hasn't said a word… not since I let him out way back at the village. Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing though.
He glanced toward Emilia, seated peacefully, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she smiled with her eyes closed.
But at least things are… normal. We've finally made it past that loop. I've fixed things with Emilia-tan. Just… stay quiet now, world. Please.
His thoughts were interrupted as a small pair of arms wrapped around his own. He glanced down to find Petra clinging to him, pouting defiantly.
"Umm… aren't you a bit close, Petra?" Subaru asked, brow arching.
Petra puffed her cheeks.
"Well, she had you all to herself earlier… and that's not fair! I couldn't even spend time with Gojo 'cause he's snoring like he's never slept a day in his life!"
Emilia flustered, waving her hands.
"It's not like that, Petra! Subaru and I… w-we had important things to discuss, yes!"
Petra's eyes narrowed with playful determination.
"I'm not gonna lose to you, hear me?"
Subaru kept his expression as neutral as possible, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.
"Emilia-tan, don't stress… she's just a kid."
"Even so… I refuse to be so lackadaisical about this!" Emilia declared with unexpected fire.
Subaru blinked, utterly caught off guard.
"Who… who the hell even says 'lackadaisical' anymore?!"
Petra smirked victoriously. "Now you're teasing her!"
Subaru laughed, finally surrendering as he raised his hands.
"Alright, alright—sorry! No teasing, I promise."
Reaching out, he ruffled Petra's hair gently.
"I almost forgot… thanks for sticking with Emilia-tan while I was gone. You made sure she wasn't alone, right..? Oh and you thanked Gojo-sensei right?"
Petra's playful demeanor softened, her eyes drifting to the floor.
"Of course… I… I really thought he was gone for a second back there against that.. man… but… he was some how fine thankfully…"
Subaru chuckled, patting her head again.
"Yeah… that's Gojo for you! Guy'll just pull off stuff that makes no sense like it's nothing!"
His smile faltered as his thoughts drifted.
"…Right, and… Rem. I need to tell you something she said, Emilia...!!"
Emilia's eyes widened, sitting upright.
"Rem…?"
Subaru hesitated for a moment, then exhaled.
"She... she told me she loved me! The same way… the same way I told you!"
Silence lingered, the carriage rocking gently.
Emilia's expression softened, surprise fading into quiet warmth.
"Rem… did she really…?" she whispered.
Subaru nodded.
"Yeah… I wasn't sure how you'd feel about that."
To his surprise, Emilia giggled softly.
"Even I noticed… the way she looked at you sometimes. I'm not upset at all."
Subaru's jaw slackened slightly.
"O-oh…?"
Before the awkwardness could deepen, a familiar voice cut through.
"Just makes me wonder what's so special about you, huh?" Gojo's voice hummed in mock suspicion, rubbing his chin theatrically. "Maybe you're secretly releasing pheromones or something to attract all the cute ones."
Subaru clicked his tongue, smirking.
"Nope. It's just my unparalleled, devastating handsomeness."
Gojo raised his head with exaggerated flair, flicking his hair back.
"Y'know who you're saying that to, right?"
Subaru scowled playfully, covering his eyes to block away the light.
"Guh… too bright... unfair comparison…"
Gojo shrugged dramatically, smug as ever.
"Life's unfair, I'm Satoru fricking Gojo after all."
Subaru chuckled, then glanced toward the front of the carriage.
Gojo's usual grin faltered for a brief moment as he cupped a hand over his eye, leaning back with a sigh.
"They really don't make sunglasses in this world, huh…? Regulus shattered the only pair in existence. Guess it's blindfold life for me or something unless I wanna go blind from eyeburn."
Suddenly, he pushed himself to his feet, drawing the attention of Subaru, Emilia, and Petra.
"You're both heading back to the mansion, right?"
Subaru tilted his head. "Well…"
Gojo cut him off with a raised hand.
"C'mon, neither of you know where this so-called Sanctuary actually is. I sure as hell don't. So, step one. Go to Roswaal, ask questions, maybe get a roadmap or something."
He waved off their puzzled looks. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. 'Wow, Gojo, can you read minds now?' Relax, I don't. You two are just incredibly predictable."
Subaru blinked, deadpan. "Uuuuuh… I think you've seriously overestimated the depth of my thought process. I didn't even have a plan yet."
"Eh?" Gojo paused, blinking at him.
Emilia stifled a giggle, covering her mouth. "Still… it's probably a good idea to stop by the mansion first anyway."
Gojo shrugged lazily. "See? Smart girl. Meanwhile, I've been dodging royal candidate work since day one. Even Reinhard's probably getting fed up with me."
Subaru's eyes narrowed. "Wait… so… you're just leaving?"
"Well, yeah. I'm wiped. Even after that nap… Regulus really drained me." Gojo tapped his chin, eyes narrowing playfully.
"Besides, what are the odds of a third Sin Archbishop showing up, right? You handled Sloth and a cultist massacre on your own. Pretty impressive, even without these fancy eyes of mine, it's obvious you've somehow gotten way stronger super fast."
Emilia's eyes widened. Her head snapped toward Subaru. "Wait… what?!"
Subaru grimaced. "Ugh… look, if anyone deserved to get minced, it was Betelgeuse. I did the world a favor."
Gojo clapped his hands together with a grin. "No arguments here, and Reinhard might burst a blood vessel if I'm gone for too long you know. Anyway… might pop back later. Try not to die in the meantime."
"Gojo-sen—!"
SWOOSH.
He vanished before Subaru could finish the sentence.
"Damn it…"
——————————————————
The Astrea Estate—Gojo's Room
A familiar ceiling greeted him as Gojo materialized in his spacious room at the Astrea estate. He barely made it two steps before collapsing face-first onto the bed.
"Oh man… I've never been pushed that hard before… not even by that flying whale…"
Raising a hand toward the ceiling, his fingers curled into empty space.
"It's kinda exciting, though… Ah…"
A mischievous grin spread as he counted under his breath.
"Three… two… one—"
CREEEAK.
The door swung open—but not to reveal who he was expecting.
Instead, a pair of pink-haired twin girls stepped inside, their expressions perfectly neutral as they bowed in unison.
"We've been assigned as your maids by Lady Carol. It is a pleasure to meet you, Satoru-sama."
Gojo sat upright, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"You're… not Reinhard… also Carol..? that menacing lady..?"
The twins remained silent, exchanging a brief glance before one of them spoke with unnerving calm.
"It appears Satoru-sama has both a foul mouth and… questionable fashion sense."
"I concur, sister."
Gojo's gaze drifted down to his tattered clothes, courtesy of his recent encounters. His eye twitched.
"Oi, the way I dress is normally peak style, thank you very much. It's not my fault some overpowered creep shredded my outfit!"
A realization settled in, making him groan as he dragged a hand down his face.
This is seriously deja vu. What is it with this world and assigning twin maids who are also rude as hell!?
He lifted a hand, pointing lazily at them.
"Either of you got names?"
They nodded in unison.
"I am Flam."
"I am Grassis."
Gojo's eye twitched.
"Even my eyes have limits… I'm gonna mix those up constantly."
The twins exchanged a glance, their expressions blank as ever, before raising their arms in eerie sync, both pointing toward the desk.
"By Reinhard-sama's order..." Flam began.
"All long-overdue work has been left for your immediate attention." Grassis finished.
A piece of Gojo's soul visibly shattered as he dragged himself off the bed, shoulders slumped, shuffling toward the desk like a condemned man. Flipping through the papers, he muttered under his breath.
"Standard noble garbage… taxes… aaand—" He paused, lifting a stack of identical letters. "Proposals for marriage?"
Without hesitation, he chucked the entire pile into the bin.
"Well, that cuts the workload in half. Yay me!"
The twins bowed once more.
"If you need anything—"
"We will assist at any time."
With that, they departed, leaving Gojo alone with his thoughts… and paperwork.
He stared at the desk for a long second.
"This blows… should've stayed with Subaru… anyway—shower time."
——————————————————
A Little While Later...
Gojo strolled through the grand halls, hands clasped casually behind his head as he hummed a carefree tune under his breath.
BUMP-
A shoulder clipped against his, halting his step. His eyes snapped open, landing on a head of familiar crimson hair… though the resemblance ended there.
The disheveled uniform, unsteady stance, and half-empty bottle dangling from the man's hand were less heroic knight and more washed-up tavern regular.
"Oi… watch where you're going, kid." the man slurred.
Gojo blinked, nose twitching faintly as he eyed the bottle.
Reinhard if his life took a swan dive off a cliff… and that's definitely alcohol…
He remembered hearing whispers about Reinhard's family issues… and judging by the state of this guy, they weren't exaggerated.
Isn't he supposed to be the leader of this place? Surprised it's not in flames already…
"You bumped into me, old man." Gojo replied flatly.
The man's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the bottle.
"Do you know who I am? Patriarch of this estate… Deputy Commander of the Royal Guard… I could have you tossed into a cell in seconds."
Gojo chuckled, leaning in ever so slightly, towering over him with casual ease.
"Riiight… somehow, I doubt that."
He watched Heinkel's hand drift toward the hilt of his sword. Gojo's expression didn't waver.
He wasn't looking for a fight—the guy was Reinhard's father—but he wasn't about to get bullied either. Not by a drunk with an ego.
Before things could escalate, a familiar flash of red and white appeared between them. A hand shot out, stopping Heinkel's reaching hand with quiet authority.
"That's enough, Father...." Reinhard's voice cut in, calm yet razor-sharp.
Heinkel sneered. "Reinhard…"
"You clearly don't understand who you've just threatened." Reinhard continued, unflinching. "This man is an honored guest of House Astrea, and the one I, myself, serve as a Knight—Satoru Gojo, Fifth Royal Candidate."
"Kgh—"
"I won't tolerate anyone threatening my Lord. Family or not."
A hand clapped down on Reinhard's shoulder. Gojo leaned forward, grinning.
"Appreciate the backup, buddy… but honestly, this guy couldn't lay a scratch on me if he tried. I mean, I get the vibe he's stronger than he looks, but hey, wouldn't wanna make your family drama worse… that'd be bad friend etiquette, right?"
For a split second, Reinhard's eyes widened in surprise—before a genuine smile cracked through his composed expression.
Gojo threw an arm around Reinhard's shoulders, steering him down the hallway.
"C'mon, lemme tell you what went down while I've been out… so Subaru, right—"
Their voices trailed off as they disappeared around the corner, leaving Heinkel glaring after them, jaw tight, grip still clenched around the bottle.
"Tsk…"
——————————————————
A Few Days Later…
CRACK—!!
The ground split beneath them as their fists collided, the shockwave detonating outward like a cannon blast, rattling the very bones of the earth.
Chunks of shattered stone and debris blasted skyward—then froze, suspended mid-air. Not by magic. Not by authority. But by pure, uncompromising speed. Two monsters—one man clad in untouchable arrogance, the other a walking, breathing legend—trading blows faster than the world could register.
"Hrm!"
Gojo surged in, purple coat whipping violently, footwork immaculate—his fist rocketed forward, a blur aimed to cave in Reinhard's ribs like a battering ram of cursed energy.
SWOOSH-!
A single palm met his strike. Precise. Surgical. Reinhard's expression didn't so much as flicker as he parried the blow aside, the air rippling with the redirected force.
In one seamless motion, his leg coiled beneath him—muscle, tendon, and divine favor winding tight—before snapping upward like a spring aimed square for Gojo's ribcage.
SWISH—!
Gojo's frame twisted mid-air, barely evading the strike. But the raw pressure alone—air displaced by Reinhard's impossible power—blasted Gojo backward, boots grinding trenches into the stone beneath him.
But Gojo wasn't idle.
His hand flicked—Blue.
The world twisted. Space itself howled as an unseen gravitational pull yanked sideways—an invisible, crushing hook aimed for Reinhard's center of mass.
"——!?"
For the first time, Reinhard's eyes widened—not fear, but calculation—as his balance wavered, momentum ripping him off the ground.
But the Sword Saint was no stranger to the impossible.
Mid-air, his body contorted with inhuman grace—spinning, twisting, reclaiming his footing before landing beside a jagged stone spire.
CRACK—!
Gojo was already there, appearing out of thin air like a phantom. His fist roared toward Reinhard's jaw—blinding, flawless, ruthless.
Reinhard's gaze sharpened. His hand darted up, effortless, catching the strike and redirecting it wide—a masterclass of restraint and technique.
But Gojo wasn't finished.
His other arm weaved beneath like a serpent, fingers glowing with condensed crimson energy. His smile widened.
"Red."
Point-blank, the explosion erupted—raw, destructive force unleashing like a miniature supernova—racing toward Reinhard's chest with nowhere to run.
But Reinhard moved with terrifying serenity, impossibility.
His back arched unnaturally—graceful, effortless—the crimson blast grazing inches past him, obliterating a chunk of wasteland in its wake. The earth howled as it was vaporized.
Reinhard landed. One foot. Then the other. His stance rippled with poised violence. Muscles bunched. Divine strength coiled into his frame like a drawn bowstring.
BOOM—!
The Sword Saint launched—bullet-speed, a blur of raw physicality and divine favor, closing the gap in less than a heartbeat.
Gojo's eyes widened, grin stretching in disbelief, heart thundering like a war drum.
"You've gotta be—"
CRACK—!!
Reinhard was there—fist chambered, divine energy rippling off his form like a wildfire poised to swallow the world whole.
A crater carved into the earth, jagged and deep, debris of every size still tumbling through the air like the laws of gravity were holding their breath. A colossal plume of smoke surged skyward, blotting out the sun in a grey, rolling curtain.
Then—silence. Several long seconds passed, the world frozen in quiet awe.
The smoke finally began to thin.
At the center stood Gojo, hand squared against Reinhard's fist, his arm trembling under the sheer, monstrous weight behind the blow—but holding.
"Wheeww..."
Gojo exhaled sharply, stepping back before letting himself drop onto the ground, legs folding beneath him as he fell into a sitting position, chest heaving faintly.
"Every time I think I've gotten stronger… you just blow me out of the damn water entirely. How much you hold back this time?"
Reinhard offered that effortless, unshakable smile as he too sat down across from Gojo, unruffled as ever.
"You are… possibly the strongest person I've faced." Reinhard admitted. "Or… perhaps the second. It's not a fair comparison… with him, I wielded the Dragon Sword Reid."
Gojo's brow lifted, interest sparking.
"Oh? And who's 'him'?"
Reinhard's smile deepened, a quiet laugh escaping him, as if he was happy to not be the greatest at something.
"Cecilus Segmunt… A swordsman with skill and speed greater than my own."
Gojo blinked.
"Seriously? You're not screwing with me?"
Reinhard shook his head solemnly.
"It surprised me as well. The Dragon Sword Reid… is the greatest weapon in this world. But it only allows itself to be wielded against an adversary it deems worthy."
Gojo's grin returned, that cocky gleam slipping back into his eyes as he leaned in slightly.
"Oh? And does your fancy sword consider me—"
Another voice cut through the air, sharp as glass.
"Gojo-sama…"
The blood drained from Gojo's face, his body tensing like a schoolkid caught red-handed.
His eyes snapped toward the source.
"... Crud."
She stood there, that sickly sweet, practiced smile curling her lips—but her eyes were anything but friendly.
"There you are," Carol chimed softly. "I've been wondering where my… pupil vanished to."
Gojo grimaced, an audible gulp escaping.
"Ah… Carol… listen, about that—"
"Come now." Her tone cut through his protests like a scalpel. "We still have etiquette to work on."
Gojo visibly deflated, soul cracking under the sheer weight of noble nonsense.
"Uuugh… But—"
Carol deadpanned. A single, chilling blink.
Gojo raised his hands in defeat, dragging himself to his feet with a long, drawn-out groan.
"Fiiine… Hey, Reinhard—spar again tomorrow?"
Reinhard, polite as ever, nodded.
"It would be my honor.."