Subaru knew he could finally call himself strong to some degree.
Not in some hollow, fleeting sense, not in the shallow pride of survival—but in the weighty, earned knowledge of a man who had clawed his way from nothing and faced the impossible. Every scar, every bruise, every gaping wound marked a testament to his journey, a ledger of battles few could imagine and even fewer could survive. No ordinary soul should have stood where he stood now. No ordinary boy should have carried the wounds inflicted by—
—Elsa Granhiert, the Bowel Hunter.
—A Sin Archbishop, felled by Subaru's own hand.
—The Pleiades Watchtower itself, where the Witch slumbers, a place of madness and despair, challenged and endured through sheer will alone.
To anyone else, his life's record would read like a tale of fantasy. To Subaru, it was just the path he had walked—a road paved in blood, pain, and impossible victories, each step heavier than the last yet necessary.
Not long ago, his drive had been nothing, completely false, a fragile resolve born only from the fear of being useless. He had clawed for existence, desperate to prove to the world—and to himself—that he was not a mistake. That he had his place in the world, just like everybody else.
Now, though… now it was different.
For Emilia. For Gojo. For Rem. For Ram. For all of them, he would keep walking forward.
Not to bask in their admiration. Not to show his worth. Not to satisfy the whispers of pride that lingered at the edge of his heart. But to protect them. To shield them from the pain he had once known. To ensure they could live without seeing death's cold hand take those they loved in front of their eyes. To sever the endless cycle of despair. To stop leaning on Return by Death as a crutch, and instead face fate head-on with strength, not sacrifice.
Some might call it selfish. Some might call it greedy. Perhaps, in another life, it could be seen as such.
But Subaru did not care for what others would call it. This was not ambition, nor pride, nor vengeance.
This was Natsuki Subaru. And this—this was his strength.
———————————————————
Countless ripples of wind fanned out across the vast white void, every shockwave born from strikes deflected and hurled aside. Reid stood on the offensive, chopsticks flicking with impossible precision to parry blow after blow Subaru threw his way.
And yet—even now—Subaru was improving.
For a man like Reid, arrogance was everything. Why end it quickly with a killing blow, when dragging it out meant more amusement? For Subaru, it was perfect. Every heartbeat stretched into another chance to grow.
A kick snapped upward from the ground, Subaru's heel aiming for Reid's chin—only to be stopped cold by the tip of a single chopstick.
"—Tch."
Reid's tongue clicked in annoyance. He had aimed to cleave through Subaru's foot cleanly, but instead found his strike halted. A stray blast of purple energy crackled past his ear, forcing him to twist his neck aside. The chopstick splintered under the strain, wood snapping with a crack that lanced through the material in an instant.
The Sword Saint moved on seamlessly, off-hand whipping up to swat away Subaru's next punch, his remaining chopstick lunging like a spear. Subaru ducked low, leapt back, lungs burning.
Reid's eyes narrowed. This didn't make sense. No one improved this fast—not in a week especially.
"So y'blocked my strike with that shadowy crap, 'n threw that stinky purple junk at me, eh? Not too shabby, I'll say, you."
"…Calling it stinky makes it sound way worse than it is." Subaru muttered, fists rising again.
"'N do I give a shit? Not at all. If y'care that much, come over here 'n punch me." Reid tapped his cheek mockingly, grin wide enough to split his face. "Still—where's pretty boy gone off to, eh? That one's a damn sight more fun to dance with than you."
Subaru grit his teeth. This fight shouldn't even exist. Reid wasn't supposed to be here—he was supposed to be nothing more than a test, an examination, a husk with no will of its own. But the Sword Swinger had spat on the laws of the Tower, seized Gluttony's body, and dragged himself back into the world of the living just to fight.
Subaru's gaze dropped to his palm, purple miasma coiling and crackling across his skin like a living flame.
The attack he'd learnt how to do when he was in a battle against Lye Batenkaitos, perhaps it was his trump card when utilized at maximum strength. It was strong enough to scar even the likes of Reid and Gojo at it's full output. But winding it up would take too long to be efficient. He didn't have that luxury.
"…Then how about—" Subaru's lips curved into a sharp grin, his aura flaring.
"—You come to me instead."
Reid's eyes twitched. That spark of confidence—unearned, insane—rubbed against his pride like a blade on bone.
"Tsck. Suit y'self, prick."
The Sword Saint blurred. One step, and his body vanished into streaking crimson motion.
SWOOSH—
Subaru raised his arm, cursed energy carving the air in jagged violet trails. He slashed, and a crescent of raw force erupted, screaming toward Reid. The redhead dropped low, sliding under it with effortless grace, strands of crimson hair sheared away as though mocking Subaru's effort.
Subaru didn't falter. His roar cracked through the void as his body descended from above, fist plunging down. Reid's stance was open, his flow slowed for the briefest moment—
—Now. Now was the time to strike.
Subaru's fist crashed down—
—only to strike empty space.
He twisted, snapping it across toward Reid, but the Sword Saint leaned back with a single, casual step, evading with insulting ease.
Tsck!
The missed reach burned Subaru's nerves raw. His shorter wingspan cost him the blow. Although Reid was now moving from one spot, unlike before. Every dodge, every parry, every counter was deliberate restraint. Subaru could only hope his theory was right—Otherwise, all of this would end in failure, another reset waiting to swallow him whole.
He snarled and thrust out a hand. Darkness bled from his palm, coagulating into a sword that ripped an arc toward Reid's side. The redhead lunged high, vaulting above with predatory grace.
Subaru's body screamed for him to stop from the strain of using Pride, but he twisted his arm anyway, dragging the blade in a wide semi-circle through the air. The dark edge expanded meters outward, a black crescent ripping through the void toward the Astrea.
Reid only grinned. His arm cocked back, fingers surging with a surge of strength—
SPLIT-!
The tips of his fingers slammed into the arc and split it clean down the middle like a blade.
"Grhh—!"
Subaru gagged, blood spraying from his lips. His vision stuttered, vessels bursting red in his eyes. But still, he flung up his other hand, cursed energy pooling at his fingertips, fusing with the witch's miasma—
A purple beam, almost wide enough to engulf Reid's body, roared forward. The Astrea met it with open arms and a feral grin.
And space itself cracked.
Sound, light—concepts themselves shredded, the beam ripped apart mid-flight, its core unraveling into nothingness. Reality realigned a breath later, the void trembling back into place.
Subaru's knees nearly buckled, but his will refused. His fist clenched tight—
CLENCH—!
Residual cursed energy that remained in the air snapped to his command in an instant, reigniting into a jagged violet arc that ripped in from Reid's flank.
"—!"
For the first time, Reid's eyes widened. He turned, too late—
BOOOOOM-!
The void detonated in a thunderclap, shockwaves rippling down to Subaru's perch. He squinted through the windstorm, chest heaving, blood dripping from his teeth.
Something fluttered down before him. A torn strip of red kimono.
His heart hammered so violently he forgot to breathe.
Reid emerged through the haze, silent, his back turned. He landed in total stillness, hand pressed to his side. Slowly, he peeled his palm away and inspected it—
No blood.
"Tsck!"
Subaru spat, fury and despair twisting together. He'd missed—by an inch, nothing more.
Reid finally spoke, voice calm.
"If this was still the shitty trial, not a match to the death, you'd've passed it long ago, you. But you'd've also passed what I'd set for white-hair just then 'n there."
Subaru blinked, stunned by the admission—then froze as steel suddenly hissed free. The sound was unmistakable. The trial's blade. The untouched sword that had waited since the very beginning, now rested in Reid Astrea's hand.
"…Gain his forgiveness, by hand of the Fool who has reached the Heavenly Sword…" Subaru muttered, voice tight.
"Aye. My words, you. Nearly forgot 'em."
Reid's off-hand reached up, tugging away the eyepatch that veiled his left eye. Both cerulean irises burned with a predatory glint as he stomped once, the void trembling beneath him.
He raised the sword. Perfect form, flawless posture. Even Reinhard would've looked crude in comparison.
"Don't be complainin' from here, you. Blink, and you'll die."
Subaru chuckled, blood dripping down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve.
"Yeah. Probably."
Reid tilted his head.
"Remind me your name again, you? 'Black-hair' don't sit right anymore. Got a bad memory."
The question hit like a spear. Before, Reid had asked, not in mockery, but in nothing more than slight interest. This time, it felt genuinely real. A tradition that has existed for who knows how long in this world where stating ones name in battle symbolized the belief that both fighters were equal.
Subaru exhaled, lips curving.
"…The Fool who refuses to die."
"Natsuki Subaru."
Reid grinned, teeth bared. He rolled the blade onto his shoulder, stance perfect, terrifyingly casual.
"Then in that case—"
"Stick Swinger."
"Reid Astrea."
Fight, commence.
———————————————————
CRACK—!
The tower wall caved inward, stone shards slicing through the air like bullets. Ashen dust swirled—then split apart in an instant as a colossal silhouette tore through.
A lance of white light ripped across the breach—Gojo stepped into it head-on, the beam halting a breath from his skin. A pincer followed, swinging with crushing weight. He didn't even move—Infinity shuddered, the strike stopped cold.
"You're supposed to be automated…" Gojo said flatly, fingers curling into a fist. "But you're fighting with strategy. Interesting…"
He drew in a deep breath, eyes narrowing.
"…Not that it matters."
BOOM—!
His fist detonated against the scorpion's shell. Brown plating spider-webbed with cracks, claws gouging trenches in the floor as Shaula's body skidded back, slammed the far wall—
THUD—!
Gojo was already there. A kick. A crack in the wall. Shaula blasted into the hallway. Another strike. Another. Each blow a miniature quake, the Watchtower groaning with the rhythm of his assault.
He hated every second of it. But if he didn't stop her here, she'd find Subaru—and that was a disaster they couldn't afford.
"So sorry… Just—"
"—Stay down!"
CRASH—!
His heel slammed down on the giant scorpion's dome, the impact rippling through her body and into the stone beneath, the floor fracturing like glass. Shaula's tail pincer coiled, charging another blast—
"Blue."
Gojo's fingers pinched together. Cerulean flared. The tail yanked sideways, smashed against the wall, pinned like an insect on a board. He hammered another punch. Then another. Then again. Each strike splintered the shell further until fractures webbed across her body like broken porcelain.
At last, he pulled back, chest heaving slightly.
"…Enough."
The scorpion collapsed, massive frame sagging to the floor as strength gave way from each leg underneath.
Gojo exhaled, sweat dampening his fringe. His gaze tilted upward, toward the void above.
Subaru. Against Reid. That's not a winnable fight for him... for anyone in this tower, for that matter, myself included.
And yet—he couldn't shake his friends confidence. Subaru's conviction was heavier than it should've been, and for some reason, Gojo couldn't help but believe he'd be able to win, despite the sheer impossibility of it.
"—?"
His Six Eyes snapped down.
Cracks sealed. Plates mended. Broken bones knit beneath the shell. Not as fast as himself or someone like Elsa, no—but quick enough. Too quick.
Gojo's brow furrowed.
"…Shaula. You're really making this hard for me, you know…"
"But fine."
He raised his hand during the scorpion's regeneration, a crimson orb manifesting atop the fingertip, aimed directly toward the beast infront of him.
"…I can stall for as long as Subaru needs."
———————————————————
BOOOM—!
"I can return by—hrkk!?"
That made the limit. He couldn't push further. He couldn't get stronger.
Subaru and Reid faced one another across the void, the silence between them crushed beneath the weight of sparks and the echo of blows.
Subaru's chest heaved, body marred with shallow cuts, burns, and bruises. His fists trembled but didn't lower. Across from him, Reid calmly dragged the flat of his blade across the red stains marking its edge, flicking Subaru's blood into the air before breaking into a lopsided grin.
Then the First Sword Saint stepped forward.
The ground didn't tremble beneath him, yet each stride radiated force. He moved like a beast let off its leash, closing distance with a speed Subaru couldn't have tracked only weeks ago. But now—he could. His hand snapped up, shadows coalescing into an obsidian blade mid-swing. Steel met shadow with a CLAANG! Sparks burst outward, violet light rippling over the black edge. Subaru held his ground, feet sliding a half step but no longer buckling under the redhead's ferocity.
Reid's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"Fix yer footwork you."
The words struck Subaru harder than the blow. His breath caught as Reid flowed into a second strike, then a third, each faster and sharper. Subaru's arms rattled from the sting of impact, but he absorbed them, twisting, matching, parrying.
His foot slid forward—too far. Reid punished it immediately, silver cleaving downward. Subaru twisted aside, narrowly evading a cut that split the air he'd occupied a heartbeat prior. His cheek burned, warmth dripping from a shallow gash.
"Fix yer stance." Reid growled, blade already resetting into another arc. "It's too open."
The words lingered, echoing.
He's teaching me?
Every instinct screamed at Subaru that this was insanity. He had no right to duel Reid Astrea, the man who had lived and breathed swordsmanship beyond the reach of Reinhard himself. And yet—his body moved, his soul compelled him. He wanted this. Needed this. To cross blades with the unreachable and win.
CLAANG-!
The void reverberated with their rhythm. Sparks sprayed like falling stars, lighting the air around them before even they fell still from the sheer speed they moved at. Step, clash, step, clash—the pace shifted faster and faster, Subaru's footwork stumbling then correcting, Reid's movements sharp and merciless, guiding him like a sculptor carving raw stone.
It was a conversation, but not in words. The dialogue was etched in steel and shadow. Reid spoke through every angle, every parry, every counter. Subaru answered through bruised ribs, bleeding cuts, clenched fists.
A downward swing bore down—Subaru stopped it, blade shuddering against the weight. His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating and shrinking. He tilted, thrusting forward. Reid dipped low, breath brushing the steel's edge as he swept Subaru's footing with the sole of his foot before arcing it up into his stomach.
CRACK!
Ribs snapped. Subaru's body recoiled. Not a sound escaped his throat. No scream. No cry. His back bent, then straightened. He stepped in again.
He's still holding back.
The thought grounded him as much as it terrified him.
A glint—silver slicing the void. Subaru tilted, too slow. The blade kissed his cheek, carving flesh. Blood streaked. He didn't falter. His counter came instantly, obsidian blade swiping. Hair fluttered into the air, strands of Reid's red split loose.
Another attack nearly claimed his head from it's neck, Subaru ducked beneath it and threw his shoulder forward. WHAM-! Reid's frame skidded back, feet carving a line across the pale void.
Subaru pressed, shadows flaring to life across his blade. He roared, unleashing arcs of violet energy like brushstrokes across a canvas. Each one surged outward, snapping through the void with painterly ferocity. Reid met them with flawless efficiency. Not a swing wasted. Every cut a masterstroke, cleaving purple apart like fragile glass. The First Sword Saint advanced, unyielding, smiling through the storm.
The rhythm intensified. Slash—slash—slash—swipe! Sparks painted their silhouettes in fleeting gold. The void became their battlefield, their gallery.
And Subaru…
Yes. This…!
The world fell away. His doubts, his fear, his shame—gone. All that remained was Reid before him, the clash of their wills in every strike. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of blades. His focus became absolute, his vision sharpened to a singular line.
This wasn't survival. This wasn't desperation.
This is art...
Subaru's blade carved a vicious upward arc—only for Reid's steel to intercept with flawless timing, parrying it down in a flash of sparks. In the same motion, Reid stamped the sole of his foot against Subaru's weapon, pinning it, and lunged with his own strike—sharp, ruthless, final.
But darkness welled across Subaru's forearm like liquid iron, solidifying into a shield. The steel glanced off the conjured barrier, leaving the space where Subaru's sword should have been empty, beneath Reid's foot.
SWISH—!
Subaru had already moved before Reid could fully react, yet even that fraction of anticipation wasn't enough.
A thin, crimson line split Reid's cheek, blood tracing a sharp trail down the side of his face in the wake of Subaru's sidestep and counter. The strike was clean, precise—his first undeniable hit. But neither warrior flinched. Neither uttered a word, nor did a smirk flicker across their faces. They simply reset, muscles taut, eyes narrowing, and collided again with silent intent.
The shadow-forged blade in Subaru's hand cut through the void with a symphony of motion. Each strike against Reid landed with a superficial graze, shallow scratches that should have meant nothing, yet each one brought something new: a refinement of rhythm, a sharpening of counters, a subtle but undeniable growth. With every swing, every parry, Subaru's body learned, adapted.
Blood dripped freely from his wounds, pain lanced through his muscles and joints, his arms and legs trembling from exertion—but none of it mattered. Pain became the canvas, his body the brush, and his will painted itself across the void.
Reid's foot slammed into the ground with measured force, sending a shockwave rippling toward Subaru. He twisted midair, instinct guiding him, the onyx blade meeting steel in a harsh clang that rattled his forearms. Sparks flew from the collision, white-hot from friction, before he ducked low to avoid the next crushing strike.
A deep gash blossomed along his side, crimson painting the fabric of his torn clothes, yet he didn't pause. He pivoted fluidly, raising his leg in a sweeping, powerful arc aimed at the side of Reid's face. The kick met flat steel with a resonating clang, the impact reverberating along Subaru's leg and up his spine. So much so that the force carried him forward uncontrollably, sliding across the ground for several meters before he rolled to recover, barely rising before Reid struck again.
Breath came in ragged, ragged bursts, but his eyes burned with clarity and focus. Every strike that failed to land, every cut he received, every blow he dodged or absorbed—it was all data. Subaru's mind, his cursed energy, and his raw instinct synchronized like the gears of a perfectly crafted machine.
Each movement left no opening unused, each moment refined his strategy, each collision taught him the rhythm of a warrior who had seen centuries of battle.
For Reid, these were mere scratches; for Subaru, they were lessons written in blood. Every scar, every sting of pain, each setback pushed him closer to a single goal: to match, to surpass, and to stand unbroken before the Sword Saint.
And still, he moved—again, and again, and again—each motion more confident than the last, until the void itself seemed to bend subtly around the storm of their battle. Each strike, each block, each step was no longer just a fight. It was art. And Subaru was finally beginning to understand its form.
Reid's patience ended with a stomp.
The void cracked. The force of his step alone sent Subaru hurtling backwards, dozens of meters, body twisting as he fought to ground himself. His feet scraped, his arms raised, instinct alone keeping him moving fast enough to meet what came next.
Reid's blade sang.
Subaru's heart seized. A cold flash cut through his ecstasy, his sharpened focus, through the endless hunger that drove him forward. This was not an attack he could block. This was death incarnate.
One step—Reid vanished.
The red blur tore forward faster than Subaru's eyes could track, the sword's arc cleaving not air, but existence itself. The stroke ripped open the void, severing space, time, light, darkness. A white gash in reality itself that threated to swallow Subaru whole.
It was the pinnacle of the Astrea style. In Reid's hands, it was not a technique. It was inevitability.
———————————————————
Subaru only shrugged back, eyes trailing toward the ground as he lets out a sigh.
"Is it over then?"
"Ahh.. nah… Reid probably would've just killed you if we had only one attempt for this trial. That's why we're out here, and I'm not fighting for my life still inside of the trial room." Gojo replied with a flick of his wrist.
Subaru's gaze flicked back toward Gojo.
"…So now what? He knows everything I can—"
Gojo pressed a finger to Subaru's lips.
"Tsk. You don't have to beat him. You just need to play the game differently. The Subaru I know wouldn't try to brute force through someone ten levels above him—he'd play smart instead."
He grinned.
"After all… it's just one step to victory."
Flick!
The hit to his forehead made Subaru flinch—not yelp. His hand rose to his chin instead, gears already turning.
'Pride is my biggest card besides Return by Death… but I've only been using it for shadows and darkness. There's another usage of it I've been ignoring 'cause I just can't understand it.'
He clicked his tongue.
'When Pride used it, eye contact made people completely unable to touch him. Not like a barrier, but like his gaze altered the trajectory of any attack that came it's way. Even Reinhard had to attack from the flank instead. But…'
Images of Reid slicing through Gojo's supposedly unstoppable attacks flashed through his mind.
"No… he'd just cut through it. Like everything else."
———————————————————
"—Ah."
The sound slipped from Subaru's lips. Not fear. Not despair. Realization.
In that heartbeat, everything clicked.
The Authority of Pride. His cursed energy. The flaws he'd tripped over, the wasteful swings, the unstable arcs—every imperfection revealed itself. Every correction burned into his mind. His body, his will, his cursed power aligned.
The canvas was complete.
The art-piece finished.
SWOOSH—
Reid's killing slash suddenly veered off-course, deflected by a force not his own. His eyes widened, genuine shock flashing through the arrogance. The severing light that was meant for Subaru howled upward, rending open the void's ceiling instead.
He tried to adjust. To go faster. To finally, finally stop holding back.
But nothing happened. His body betrayed him. The vessel he wore wasn't enough. He had been fighting on borrowed time—and it had just run out.
Checkmate.
"Black Flash—"
Subaru's onyx blade ignited with violent purpose, cursed energy compressed into a single heartbeat of impossibility. He thrust forward—
BOOOOM—!
A detonation of black and red sparks exploded outward, faster than thought, ripping the air apart. The blade didn't cut Reid—it obliterated. Flesh, muscle, bone, entrails—gone in an instant, erased in a thrust that tore a gaping void through his stomach, a wound the size of a basketball burning with cursed aftershocks.
All there was, was silence. The void stretched endlessly between them, nothing moved—not Subaru, not Reid. Seconds dragged on, heavy and tense, until the faint clang of metal hitting the white ground broke the stillness: Reid's blade, sliding from his grasp as he hacked up another spurt of blood.
Subaru let the dark blade retract, letting it dissipate like smoke from a spent candle. His chest heaved, every muscle screaming in pain, yet his eyes widened, taking in the sight of what he'd just accomplished.
"Ur-hk… shit…"
Subaru groaned, staggering slightly.
"Fuck… 'r you… cryin' about eh?"
Reid scoffed, his tone casual despite the gaping wound in his torso.
"—Ah…"
Subaru could only breathe in disbelief, staring at the man who had pushed him to his absolute limits.
"Well, fuckin' played you… shit, ain't this a borin' end…"
Reid rasped, vomiting more blood, but refusing to collapse. He locked his pale, strained gaze onto Subaru with a frown that carried grudging respect.
"Y'knew this would happen, didn't ya? Shoulda been fuckin' obvious from the start… real annoyed you of all people outsmarted me."
Subaru laughed, staggering back under the exhaustion and blood loss, but forcing himself upright. He couldn't afford to fall here—not with Reid barely holding himself together.
"—I only had a theory, and I'm glad it was right… or I'd have been screwed…"
"—Lye's body was too weak for someone like you."
Reid didn't respond, merely allowed silence to settle.
Subaru's stomach tightened, and he suddenly felt the urge to ask what he'd been curious about for a while.
"… Did you actually want to live a second life after all this, if you succeeded to leave this place?"
Reid tilted his head, eyes wandering across the pale void.
"…Hrr—Not like I got shit to do outside fighting in an age like this, you. Shit I wanna do, I do it my way—fightin', dyin'… You, you live like that, 'n you might become a decent swordsman."
Subaru shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm not sure if I want to… I only held a sword a few times before all this, and I was kinda wingin' it. You made me improve a lot, and even then… I still got lucky in the end."
"Tsck—'course y'did, 'cause I'm me. There ain't no swordsman like me, never will be either."
Reid flashed a bloody grin, his voice hoarse but full of pride.
"—You're a little monster y'self, you know." He added, eyes glinting.
"—You and that white-haired prick… gonna be some real monsters. Have to be, otherwise it'd be a fuckin' mockery for my legacy, you. I'll come a third time back to kick your ass if you spit on my name in the future."
"A-Aha…"
Subaru laughed nervously, unsure whether Reid was joking—or deadly serious.
"Haaah… Natsuki Subaru, aye."
"—Not too shabby…"
Reid's gaze softened as the whites of his eyes faded, his neck slumping. The fight was over. The fight had been brutal, merciless, and almost impossible to predict, yet somehow, Subaru had endured, adapted, and survived.
Great Library Pleiades, The Second Trial—COMPLETED.