Wilhelm van Astrea stood on the wooden floorboards in silence, his gaze tilted skyward. The stars blanketed the night, insects and wind weaving a quiet background of peace.
Footsteps drew his attention aside.
"Subaru. My apologies if I disturbed you." His words were clipped, but not unkind.
"Huh? Ah, nah, you didn't—just haven't been feeling tired." Subaru smiled faintly.
"Is that so?"
Silence settled, before Subaru broke it a few seconds later.
"I also like the moonlight." Subaru added, tilting his head up. "The stars, the constellations… thinking about how small we are in the grand scheme of things—it puts me at ease."
Wilhelm blinked, caught off guard. Slowly, his eyes followed Subaru's toward the dark sky.
"…You truly have a way with words. Though you've grown stronger since we last met, I find your speech the most fascinating. It carries weight."
"My speech?"
Subaru tilted his head.
The Sword Demon nodded.
"Your eyes and words both suggest you've seen far more than you let on. Pain, a considerable amount of it. Things unforgettable."
Subaru's brows raised.
"…You got all that from my eyes?"
Wilhelm didn't answer. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the chorus of the night.
"At my core, I've only ever lived with the sword." Wilhelm continued. "Every imperfection I honed away. Every kill, every victory… it defined me."
His voice dipped, heavy.
"And yet, I am a coward, despite all that."
Subaru blinked.
"You don't seem like one to me though..."
"I cannot speak to my own grandson. What else might that be if not cowardice?"
"You and Reinhard don't get along?"
Wilhelm's gaze darkened.
"When Theresia passed, I let rage guide me. I made a foolish choice which involved him. Even after avenging her, I cannot face him. Not properly."
"So you're… scared."
"…Yes."
Subaru took a slow breath.
"I don't know how I feel about Reinhard right now, but I don't think I hate him. And I can tell he definitely doesn't hate you. Like you said—there's no better time than now, right?"
Wilhelm's lips trembled with a thin smile.
"Truly… you have a way with words like no other."
——————————————————————
The next morning, Gojo yawned wide as he stepped outside, sunglasses already in place. Beside him, Reinhard offered a polite smile.
"Have you enjoyed Priestella so far, Satoru?"
"Mm? Ah, yeah—it's been nice. Kinda nostalgic, too." Gojo stretched, arms wide to the rising sun. "Didn't take Otto for a drunk, though. Him and old man Rom? Perfect drinking buddies."
"I believe you're right."
"Still, can't shake the feeling Anastasia's got something up her sleeve. She wouldn't gather the royal candidates just for traditional foods."
"Perhaps, or perhaps not. Lady Anastasia's mind is… difficult to predict even for me."
Gojo turned fully toward him, grin curling.
"Anyway. Talked to Wilhelm yet?"
Reinhard's composure faltered for the briefest second.
"No. I… haven't found the right moment."
"You're overthinking it. I get it, though—I had 'family issues' too."
Gojo's smirk darkened, just for a breath.
"Bet the Gojo clan's losing their minds now that I'm gone. Place probably collapsed without me, heh."
Reinhard tilted his head, confused.
"So you didn't share a good bond with them?"
"More like business partners than family. I was the golden boy, so every word they spoke to me was about duty, power, status. Annoying as hell."
He shrugged.
"But that's beside the point. I don't want to reconcile, nor can I at this moment in time anyway. But you still can."
His hand landed firmly on Reinhard's shoulder.
"And my eyes don't lie—Wilhelm doesn't hate you. So stop hesitating."
Reinhard's eyes widened slightly before settling into resolve. He bowed his head.
"I understand. Thank you, Satoru."
As the redhead slipped back into the building, Gojo's gaze wandered—and landed on emerald eyes, jagged teeth, and wild yellow hair.
"Heeey, Garf~. Been seeing you hanging around that little orange-haired kid a lot."
Garfiel clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Don't call me that. And her name's Mimi—so remember it."
Gojo blinked, then chuckled. Garfiel with a soft spot? Who would've guessed.
"Fair enough. But I'm curious. Why tag along with Subaru and Emilia?"
"'Cause I respect that Subaru's strength enough. And since Lady Emilia freed us, she asked if I'd come along. So here I am."
Gojo's grin lingered.
"I see, I see…"
Then Garfiel's fists clenched.
"…Tell me, who's stronger—you, or that redhead?"
Silence pressed down. The two locked eyes.
Before finally, Gojo just shook his head and spoke.
"…Reinhard's stronger."
The words hit Garfiel like a blade. His teeth gnashed. His fists trembled tighter.
"Damn it… damn it all!"
He spun and stormed off, leaving Gojo watching his back with an amused sigh.
"Poor kid. Thought he was king of the mountain until I showed up. Now he finds out there's a peak even beyond the guy he couldn't touch. Must sting."
——————————————————————
Later that day, the sliding door creaked open. Wilhelm sat at the low table, staring down at the half-charred mess on his plate. The room was lively—Subaru, Emilia, and the others laughing as they fumbled through the Kararagi dish under Rom's gruff instructions.
Then he heard the sound of someone kneeling beside him.
"…!?"
Wilhelm's head snapped up. Reinhard sat there. Hesitant, uncertain—stripped of his usual mask of perfection.
"Grandfather—"
"Reinhard—"
Both froze. The room stilled around them.
Wilhelm's throat tightened. His gaze fell to the scorched food before him.
"…I… can't seem to master this dish. My attempts burn more than they cook. Perhaps… you could give me a few tips?"
Reinhard's eyes widened in disbelief. Then, slowly, he smiled. A rare, genuine curve of the lips.
"…Of course, Grandfather."
It was serene, peaceful—everything Reinhard and Wilhelm had been longing for. For the first time in years, it felt like a genuine connection, fragile but real.
But all good things do not last forever.
This one hardly lasted at all.
The sliding door scraped open. A leather-gloved hand shoved it aside, and in stumbled a haggard, red-haired man reeking of alcohol, a half-empty bottle dangling from his grip.
"Ah, ah, ah—too easy, isn't it?" His words slurred but sharp.
"Ain't it a bit simple to pull this card so late into the game, eh?"
Wilhelm froze, his eyes going wide before the figure spoke once more.
"…Honored father?"
Subaru leaned forward in his seat, narrowing his eyes at the intruder.
"Oi—who the hell are you?"
The mood was ruined, crushed under the weight of his presence. Subaru didn't need anyone to tell him—red hair, blue eyes. Another Astrea.
"Tch. That look in your eyes, brat," the man sneered. "You know who you're trying to provoke, right? As a knight, maybe think before you mouth off."
He raised the bottle, took a heavy swig, then jabbed it in the air toward Reinhard.
"Hey! Sword Saint—hell, Juukulius, whatever. Orders are orders. Kill this brat."
Subaru's fists tightened until his knuckles popped. His eyes flicked to Reinhard for just a moment—hesitating, expecting—before his thoughts burned. The clinking in his ears, the countless deaths, the blade flashing. Reinhard had been his executioner in too many loops. Was this man here to drag him back into that nightmare?
Every instinct screamed to fight. To kill.
And for a heartbeat, Subaru thought—
Is that really such a bad thing?
Julius's voice broke the tension.
"Currently, Reinhard and I are on leave from our normal duties. We serve our chosen masters. Even the Deputy Commander cannot command us at this moment in time."
The drunk's grin widened, teeth bared. He swayed, spreading his arms.
"Calm down, I'm joking! Don't get your panties in a twist. I know more than anyone how serious my orders are. Just relaaaaax."
"Deputy Commander…?" Subaru muttered.
"That's right. Deputy Commander of the Knights of Lugunica, Heinkel."
He puffed his chest, pride dripping from his slurred tone.
Julius was sharp with his reply.
"If I may ask—what is the reason for your visit? Your duty should be to guard the Royal Capital."
Heinkel waved dismissively.
"That captain of ours can handle anything. Way better than me too, it'll be fine..."
"Heinkel—!"
Wilhelm snapped, rage tightening his voice.
The drunkard only staggered sideways with a smirk.
"Relax, Father. I came to offer congratulations for the death of the white whale. I've got the right to join the celebrations, don't I?"
Wilhelm was silent. His silence said more than words.
"Hrn, Reinhard?"
Heinkel's grin turned sharp as he pivoted toward the Sword Saint.
"Shouldn't you say something to Honored Father too?"
"Congratulate him for carrying out his vengeance? His wife, my mother, your grandmother—avenged. You could at least offer kind words. Unless…" His grin split wider. "…unless you can't, 'cause it was you who murdered the former Sword Saint, after all?"
"Heink—!!"
Wilhelm's fury cracked the air.
And then, Emilia's voice cut through the storm.
"What did you come here for?"
Her tone was calm, but her eyes burned. She rose to her feet, silver hair shimmering under the sunlight.
"You've ruined a peaceful moment. Why?"
Heinkel scratched his stubble, bottle still in hand.
"Hah! That's rich. You're the half-devil brat wasting her time with a fight she can't win."
Subaru's anger flared hotter. He could end this now. Heinkel was weak—pathetically weak. One punch at full strength and he'd break him like a toothpick. Kill him. It wouldn't even be hard either.
But still, he strangled the thought down.
Emilia didn't waver, instead she repeated the question.
"Moving on from your opinion on me. Why are you here?"
"…Hmph. You don't act like I've heard…"
Heinkel's eyes narrowed before suddenly rolling back to the top of his head.
THUNK—
Heinkel's words cut short. His body swayed like a puppet with its strings severed, then collapsed face-first onto the floor. The bottle rolled away with a hollow clink.
A lazy chuckle followed.
"Haha, silly me~"
Gojo stood behind him, hand still smoking faintly from the chop he'd delivered to Heinkel's skull. His grin was infuriatingly casual.
Relief and satisfaction spread through the room. Emilia exhaled, Julius looked away, Wilhelm trembled with conflicted silence, and Reinhard's eyes dimmed in quiet shame.
Only Felt laughed outright.
"Hah! I was waiting for someone to do that!"
Step—Step—Step—
Footsteps echoed from the corridor, sharp and deliberate, before a voice cut through, dripping with arrogance.
"It seems wherever the white-haired fool treads, calamity is never far behind, hmm?"
Gojo swiveled around, grin widening with interest.
The uninvited royal candidate, Priscilla Barielle.
——————————————————————
"You show no gratitude for my presence?"
She snapped her fan open with a flutter, her crimson eyes sweeping over the room.
"To bask in my radiance is a privilege. A proper reaction would be to fall to your knees and press your foreheads to the floor."
Gojo chuckled and tipped his head toward the servant dragging off Heinkel's limp body.
"Suuuch arrogance~ I remember why I like her now."
"This is the worst possible pairing of people…"
Subaru muttered under his breath, but loud enough to earn her glare.
"Ah, the other one who crawled out of the infamous Watchtower. I was curious what kind of man you were…" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"…but this is all? How disappointing. Al must have exaggerated."
A muffled voice came from behind her.
"Whoa, calm down, princess—I only said he'd improved. That ain't a lie."
A broad-shouldered man in a black helmet entered, one arm missing but his presence steady. Aldebaran—her knight, and like Subaru and Gojo, another man from beyond this world.
"Improved 'cause he's the same guy who totally embarrassed himself a year ago during the royal selection, you remember?"
"I've no memory of such a pathetic display." Priscilla said coldly.
"Though I suppose a man would wish the world forget such disgrace. Laughable."
Subaru finally rose to his feet.
"Well, I don't know whether to feel insulted or grateful that it slipped your memory. But I've got a question, Priscilla."
She clicked her tongue.
"And when did I grant you leave to speak so casually? My generosity has limits, boy." Her glare then flicked toward Gojo, as though daring him to laugh.
Subaru eventually bowed his head slightly, though it was clear he wasn't too big of a fan of doing it, at least, it was enough for Priscilla.
"My apologies. Thank you… for your generosity."
He exhaled slowly and raised his head.
"…Did you bring Heinkel here?"
Priscilla tilted her head, lips curling behind her fan.
"You would be correct. He came at my beckoning. I thought it would make for an amusing spectacle."
Subaru's jaw tightened.
So she ruined this whole thing on purpose.
"And amusing it was indeed." she continued smoothly. "Though I would have preferred to see the Sword Saint and Sword Demon act even more human, the drunkard's humiliation was a decent consolation."
Subaru's fists clenched. He knew starting something here would be a bad outcome no matter what. Yet every fiber in his body screamed to strike her down.
Al placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Brother, let it go. Princess's sharp tongue ain't new. Treat it like bad luck, bad stars. Don't waste yourself on it."
Gojo sighed dramatically and sauntered toward Reinhard and Wilhelm as they had continued arguing.
Reinhard's usual calm was shaken, his voice low.
"Satoru…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know~" Gojo said, waving a hand.
"Probably dumb to knock out the Astrea family head. But hey—he was mocking my knight. I made the right choice."
Reinhard blinked, then chuckled faintly.
"…Of course."
CLAAANG—!
"—!?"
A steel ring split the room.
Priscilla now stood with one crimson heel upon the low table, her Yang Sword poised at Subaru's neck. Its edge shimmered with heat, like the air itself wanted to ignite.
But another blade barred its path from going any further—a black sword, locked against hers in perfect stillness.
Subaru's eyes narrowed, unmoving. The stalemate was silent, but the weight of it pressed on everyone in the room.
Al raised his hand nervously.
"Princess, seriously—pulling the Yang Sword? I thought I was about to see his head roll—"
"Enough, Al." Priscilla said, voice calm as stone. She snapped her fan shut, and the sword dissolved into motes of light.
"We are leaving."
Subaru blinked.
"Leaving—just like that?!"
"What else is there to do, when faced with such a pitiful audience?" She turned, red silk swaying as she strode for the door.
"Come now, Aldebaran."
"Sorry, about that brother..." Al said, scratching the side of his helmet. "Glad you kept your head though!"
And with that, they were gone.
Gojo was the first to break the silence, lips curled in a lazy grin.
"Mmmm, if it were me? Would've dodged. That sword screamed 'don't touch me.' Dangerous little thing for sure."
"Correct," Reinhard said gravely.
"That was the Yang Sword. A blade said to burn absolutely anything—flesh, steel, anything—if its wielder so wills it."
Gojo snapped his fingers, smirking.
"Meaning, if she'd really wanted… Subaru would've gone up like a bonfire. Hahaha!"
Subaru hunched forward, deadpan.
"…I'm really not sure what's funny about that, Gojo-sensei."
——————————————————————
Subaru walked through the bustling streets of Priestella, a paper bag of fruit cradled in his arms, his expression flat.
"…To think I've been reduced from Spirit Knight to apple boy."
The streets surged with life—vendors shouting, carriages clattering, conversations overlapping into a steady roar. An ocean of humanity.
And yet, Subaru stopped cold.
"—?"
His chest tightened. The hairs on his neck bristled. His grip on the bag slackened, nearly slipping.
What is this…?
Unease. That was it. A twisting, gnawing unease curling up his spine.
His eyes darted across the crowd until they caught the source: people had stilled, their gazes pulled toward a single towering building—a clock tower, one of many in the city. But unlike the others, this one radiated wrongness similar to one he hadn't felt in a very long time.
The massive crystal set atop it caught the sunlight, gleaming, as a figure stepped into view at the window.
"Ahh, apologies, apologies—terribly sorry for the ruckus, everyone!"
The voice rang too brightly, too cheerfully, carrying over the plaza with grotesque charisma.
The figure leaned perilously close to the edge, arms outstretched as though to embrace the crowd. Its head and body was swaddled entirely in bandages, leaving only two glowing purple eyes exposed. Chains clinked from its bound wrists, dragging across the floor as the figure swayed, as if dancing to a tune only it could hear.
The bandages tugged at its mouth in a mockery of a smile.
"But please—lend me just a few minutes of your precious time!"
The crowd murmured, uneasy yet transfixed.
Subaru's heart hammered. His instincts screamed at him.
Then came the words.
"My apologies, gosh! Allow me to introduce myself—"
The figure bowed, voice syrupy sweet, and the chains rattled as the metal was raised.
"I am a Sin Archbishop of the Witch Cult, representing Wrath. You may call me—"
The purple eyes widened.
"—Sirius Romanee-Conti."
The name struck like thunder.
Gasps rippled through the masses. The air itself seemed to grow heavier.
And beneath the oppressive weight of that name, Sirius smiled.