Soon enough, days became weeks, and weeks slipped into months—time flying at a rate unlike anything Subaru had ever known.
For the first time since arriving in this magical, more often than not absolutely terrifying world, he felt the steady rhythm of normality settling into his bones. To wake up. Brush his teeth. Wash up. Eat breakfast before heading out to train. Each step of the routine had once been alien, even impossible amidst constant crises. Now, it was habit. Now, it was peace.
Rebuilding the Roswaal mansion hadn't taken as long as Subaru feared, either. Thanks to magic, even tasks that would have demanded months of labor on Earth were accomplished in weeks. Stone walls rose at the wave of a hand. Crumbled gardens were coaxed back into bloom. Even the scars of Regulus and Petelgeuse's rampages couldn't stand long against the combined strength of magic and will.
And then there had been the ceremony.
The Wise Men themselves presided over it, cloaked in ancient grandeur, their presence commanding awe. Knights stood in formation beneath banners of silver and gold. A feast followed, tables laden with more food than Subaru could have imagined in his old life. And when all was said and done, both he and Gojo had been recognized—not just as survivors of the Pleiades Watchtower, but as heroes. Subaru, alongside that, had been declared, truly declared, Emilia's knight. No longer a title in word alone.
————————————————————————
That memory was still fresh in his mind when he found himself standing across from Julius Juukulius for the second time. The training arena buzzed faintly with the chatter of knights gathered on the upper tier, eager to watch. Torches flickered, casting light across the sand-strewn floor.
"I don't suppose this is your way of getting revenge, is it, Natsuki Subaru?" Julius asked, purple hair gleaming under the suns rays above as he raised a wooden practice blade.
Subaru rolled his shoulders, testing the weight of his own.
"Eh—well, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I just wanna see how much I've improved since you, uh… totally beat my ass last time."
Julius's lips twitched in a small, polite smile.
"…That is certainly a crude way of putting it. But not entirely incorrect."
Subaru dropped into a stance—one that months ago would have been riddled with openings. Now, it was steadier. Sharper. Julius noticed, eyes narrowing in faint respect as he mirrored the motion.
"Y'know," Subaru added, voice lighter, "I should actually be thanking you. If not for what you did back then, I probably would've been executed for running my mouth. That's why you did it, right?"
Julius chuckled quietly, but there was meaning in the silence that followed. Then he raised his blade slightly, his voice carrying over the arena.
"Spirit Knight of the one the only Emilia-tan—Natsuki Subaru!"
Subaru's grin widened at the title before Julius spoke up.
"A spirit knight without any spirits to command, huh? A peculiar thing, that…"
He tilted his head back, shouting:
"Beako—!"
A familiar, exasperated sigh answered him. From the stands, descending like a star plucked from the night sky, came Beatrice. Her cream curls bobbed, her extravagant dress fluttering as she alighted upon Subaru's back, arms looping lazily around his neck.
"…Understood, I suppose." she muttered, cheeks pink.
The gathered knights gasped. Julius's eyes widened, his stance faltering for a heartbeat.
"A Great Spirit…? Such a sight is rare indeed. But… perhaps expected, from one who conquered the Pleiades Watchtower."
He regained his composure, blade steady once more.
"The Finest Knight of Lady Anastasia Hoshin—Julius Juukulius."
The air thickened.
Two steps. Two blurs of motion.
Their blades met in a storm of wood and will, Subaru blocking the initial downward stroke before Julius reeled back and pressed forward again, elegant arcs carving the air. Subaru's feet shifted, his movements rougher but instinctive, snatching openings where he could, each strike deflected in the nick of time.
It looked less like a duel and more like a dance—one refined, the other raw, yet together creating something that drew the breath of the audience.
Then, in a single breath, both fighters leapt back. Their blades rose high in mirrored arcs.
Julius's wooden sword shimmered, brilliance spilling from it like captured sunlight.
Subaru let out a deep breath, pouring cursed energy into his raised weapon.
And Beatrice lifted a hand, voice calm and commanding.
"El Vita."
The clash split the air.
SNAP-!
Both blades shattered in an explosion of splinters, the shockwave rippling across the arena floor. Julius skidded back, boots gouging deep trails into the sand as he barely held his footing. Subaru, let out a singular breath before dropping the ruined hilt from his hand with a sheepish shrug.
"Well… that was something. Guess we've gotta work on our control. You especially, Beako!"
"You should have specified the strength you wanted, I suppose!" she snapped, puffing out her cheeks.
"Awww—look at you, all pouty! So cute!"
Subaru teased, scooping her up from behind his back like a doll as she kicked and squirmed.
The knights above broke into laughter and applause at the ridiculous sight. Julius, though, wasn't laughing—not out of contempt, but because he was too focused on the faint ache buzzing through his arms, the raw force Subaru had carried even through splintered wood.
"…I suppose you're right," Julius said at last, straightening. "You truly have gotten stronger, Subaru."
Subaru smirked, tilting his chin.
"Damn right I have."
————————————————————————
Satoru Gojo finally had some time to himself, being in contention for the throne meant a whole lot of work for him to do after all.
The gardens of the Astrea Estate stretched wide before him, rows of perfectly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowers that various servants worked tirelessly to maintain. He sat cross-legged on the grass, thumbing lazily through the last page of a book before tossing it aside with a satisfied sigh.
Then, he raised his hand—fingers cocked like a gun, pointed far away from the mansion for reasons that should have been obvious to anyone who valued their home, and not a stern talking to from Reinhard.
A golden sphere blinked into existence at the tip of his finger.
"—Jiwald."
The light shot forward in a razor-thin line, cutting across the horizon. The thin blast slammed into the incline of a distant hill, detonating with a sharp crack. A plume of smoke and debris climbed skyward. Gojo lowered his steaming finger, blowing across it like a child with a toy gun.
"My control's way better than before," he muttered, lips twitching upward. "The first time I fired this thing, I almost passed out. Real embarrassing that was."
"But in comparison to my aptitude with the limitless, it's pretty pathetic in comparison. I guess I can use it against weaker opponents though."
He then tugged the bandages over his eyes loose, just enough for one of the Six Eyes to peek through, and glanced down at his own body.
His mana gate had grown, along with his control, he could tell that much. Yang magic no longer surged out of him like an untamed flood; he could shape it now, bend it. The calculations, the flow, the output—child's play for him.
"…Boring, though."
He let his arms drop, listening.
Silence.
Gojo's grin widened. No footsteps. No rustle of Reinhard's cape. No knightly shadow hovering at his back. For once, he was unwatched. Free.
He clasped his hands together, ready to warp straight into who knows where to probably cause chaos—when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hrkk—"
"It is a fine day, isn't it, Satoru?" Reinhard said warmly, smiling with his eyes closed as always. His grip, however, was iron.
Gojo froze, caught in the act.
"…C'moooon dude, I was just gonna pop down to the capital! Stretch the legs, see the sights, grab some food. Sitting around here all day's not healthy for me!"
Reinhard tilted his head, expression unchanged.
"The Divine Protection of Wind Reading tells me you are lying unfortunately."
Gojo scowled.
"Well, your Divine Protection's busted! Scrap it already!"
He paused, then leaned closer like a man bargaining with a prison guard.
"…Okay, okay. What if you come with me? We head to the capital together. Eat some good meals, do some sightseeing. Because honestly? As fancy as this place is, it's dead quiet except for the few workers that roam around. And… Flam and Grassis."
He cupped his mouth, whispering dramatically.
"And you know how those two are…"
Reinhard blinked.
"The twins? They are excellent company. Polite and dedicated."
Gojo groaned.
"Polite? They bully me daily! Thought I was supposed to be fighting for the throne, not getting roasted by a pair of demon toddlers!"
He then raises a hand, stabbing a finger toward one of the mansion windows. Sure enough, a pink-haired child was peeking out, glaring like a tiny executioner with an indifferent expression.
"Look—see? Always watching! And I can't even tell which one's which!"
Reinhard's smile never wavered.
"Very well. If it eases your spirit, I will accompany you."
Gojo's face lit up like a child's on his birthday.
"Good enough for me!"
Before Reinhard could add another word, Gojo grabbed his wrist. Space bent, collapsed—
And the two vanished, leaving the peaceful garden behind.
————————————————————————
The pair reappeared in the heart of the capital, space folding back into place as if they had always been there. Passersby gasped and stumbled out of the way, some clutching their children, others gawking at the white-haired sorcerer and the crimson knight who had simply manifested from thin air.
Reinhard's eyes flicked across the stunned crowd, his polite smile straining at the edges.
"…Satoru, I wish you'd be less conspicuous when doing this."
Gojo only smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strolled forward. He wagged a finger lazily at the civilians scattering in their wake.
"C'mon, you know me. Gotta make an entrance, otherwise where's the fun~?"
Reinhard sighed, but his expression softened as he caught up.
"…I suppose that much is true."
"Now then~" Gojo hummed, walking with his eyes closed as though the world would bend around him to make way. "Where to? Any suggestions, Mr. Sword Saint?"
Reinhard tilted his head thoughtfully as he trailed alongside Satoru.
"Hmm, I believe there's a Kararagi vendor nearby that's—"
Thunk-
Gojo halted mid-step, his forehead bumping against the glint of a steel helmet. He blinked, then leaned back to stare at the strangely familiar figure standing in the middle of the street like a wall.
The two men sized each other up in silence. Then, the measured click of heels cut through the crowd, each step commanding attention.
"Honestly, Aldebaran… is standing about like some lost statue the extent of your usefulness?"
The voice was laced with amusement and disdain both, and when she came into view, the reaction was immediate—civilians parted as if pushed by an unseen force.
A woman with hair like a burning sunset approached, her black-and-red dress swaying with aristocratic precision. A lacquered fan veiled the lower half of her face, but not enough to hide the sharp curl of her lips. Her presence radiated a kind of absolute authority, the air itself seeming to bend toward her.
Priscilla Barielle had arrived.
Gojo tilted his head, peering past Aldebaran's shoulder with a wolfish grin.
"Well now… that's unexpected."