Darkness.
It stretched on forever, a heavy, formless void that swallowed sound, sight, and thought. Subaru couldn't even tell where his body ended and the nothingness began. There was no sense of up or down—no weight, no cold, no warmth. Only a suffocating stillness, like being submerged in pitch-black tar that refused to let go.
He tried to move, but his arms and legs weren't there. He tried to breathe, but he had no lungs. He tried to scream, but there was no voice. He was a consciousness, suspended somewhere between waking and oblivion.
That's when the whisper came.
"I… lo…e…u…"
A peculiar high-pitched sound. Muffled, garbled, barely reaching him, yet so familiar it made his chest ache despite the fact he didn't even have one.
"…Love you."
A tremor went through him. That voice—he knew it. He would know it even if it had been centuries.
"I love you."
It repeated, a caress and a brand at once, echoing through the blackness.
"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."
Each repetition felt closer, louder, until it wasn't just sound anymore. It wrapped around him, pressed against what might've been his soul. Every "I love you" vibrated through his very being.
The Witch of Envy.
No—Satella.
Even here, in this abyss, she was reaching for him. He remembered her hands, his promise, his vow. To free her. To not look away. To be the one who would walk toward her instead of running.
"I love you—"
And then it all stopped.
Silence collapsed over him like a heavy shroud. No sound. No warmth. Not even the faintest sense of himself. Time dissolved, or maybe it multiplied; seconds stretched into eternities, eternities blinked past in seconds. Was he still Subaru? Was he alive, dead, or something in between?
Did he perhaps drown? Was this between life and death before a loop ends? Was he going to wake up again, back at the beginning, forced to face that hideous monster, Lust, again? Maybe that would be better. Maybe next time, he could save Crusch.
"—Pride."
Her voice pierced through the silence once more, her tone completely different, less automated.-
He felt it before he heard it—the sensation of hands brushing the core of his being. They weren't warm or cold; they were both, like sunlight reflected off ice. Familiar. Comforting. Terrifying.
"You must find it."
Images flickered through his mind like static. A figure, blurred. A shadow with his outline but not his eyes. Something wearing his name.
Right.
He wasn't whole.
How could he vow to save anyone, how could he keep his promises, if he wasn't even entirely Natsuki Subaru anymore? He'd lived over a year like this, functioning, laughing, fighting—but a piece of him had been missing the whole time.
His soul.
He hadn't thought about it before, but the idea clawed at him now.
What happened to a fragment of a soul cut off from its owner?
Did it wither into nothing?
Did it linger, twisting and growing into something else?
A monster?
A person?
Something worse?
"Become whole again."
Satella's words echoed endlessly in the void, and for a heartbeat he thought he saw something—a silhouette reaching out toward him, faint and glimmering like a reflection in black water. Its hand was his hand. Its face almost his face.
But its eyes… weren't his.
They were empty, fractured.
———————————————
Then there was light.
"—!!"
Subaru's eyes snapped open like shutters. His whole body locked, seizing with a violent tremor. For a heartbeat, everything was a haze of white and soundless ringing—until something even more primal hit him like a hammer.
He wasn't breathing.
Rolling onto his side, Subaru hacked and convulsed. A tidal rush of water spilled out from his lungs and mouth, splattering across the cracked pavement. Again and again he coughed, his chest convulsing painfully until air finally scraped its way back into him like broken glass.
"Haaah… haaah… hahh…"
Breath. The simple miracle of air. A thing everyone took for granted until they lost it, until their lungs burned and their heart clawed at their ribs, until the absence of it made the world spin. In that moment, Subaru clung to oxygen like a starving man clings to food.
But he didn't waste time on gratitude.
The instant his trembling legs allowed it, he forced himself upright. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes hung heavy and waterlogged, but his eyes were already scanning, darting over the devastation around him.
The formerly magnificent city was unrecognizable. Streets fractured in every direction. Walls split and crumbled. Glass glinted in heaps where windows had been. Some buildings had collapsed entirely, sinking into heaps of rubble. Everything reeked of water, blood, and smoke.
"Crusch—!? Shit, shit, where the hell is she…?!"
No answer. The familiar flash of green hair was nowhere in sight. She'd been right there—he'd been carrying her—and then the flood had ripped them apart. The thought that she might have been dragged under, might even now be somewhere drowning or worse, made his stomach twist painfully.
Another problem. His hands would hardly even clench. His fingers barely responded at all. His whole body barely even listened to me. Using the Authority of Pride at full output had burned through him in ways he hadn't been ready for. He'd done it anyway despite knowing what it might've done to his body. Because of rage. Because of the sight of Crusch beneath Capella's foot, and just hearing what that monster had done to all those civilians.
"Dammit…"
If the water had reached this far into the city, it wasn't just the plaza. It had to be everywhere.
"Did the water gates get opened…? A flood?"
He wondered aloud, his voice raw and rasping.
"That's stupid. Isn't the whole point of them doing this so they can make demands? Capella's gotta have her own sick plan but…"
He shook his head.
"Regardless, they've got a whole lot less holding the city hostage now… can't really keep it under control when it's already underwater and destroyed."
His thoughts drifted to the hostages at the City Hall—those 'flies' That image of distorted bodies, of people stripped of their humanity and reshaped into things that couldn't even scream, gnawed at him. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw creaked.
"Detestable…" he whispered, more to himself than anyone. "A real monster…"
He took a step. Then another. His body protested, his muscles screaming, but his mind was already running ahead, trying to plan, trying to act.
That's when it hit him.
A sharp spike of instinct, that raw, primal warning screaming in the back of his skull: danger.
He didn't think for even a second. He just moved, it took alot of effort, but he did it.
Cursed energy poured into his legs and he flung himself sideways, boots skidding across wet stone as something blurred past him—something large and deadly. It was like a claw. Or maybe a spear. A black shape, glistening, the edge twisting as it withdrew.
"What the—?"
Another one lashed out. Then another. Then another.
He spun, eyes wide, and realized they weren't 'things' They were tails. Or limbs. Or weapons. All fused into the bodies of monsters he'd never seen before.
They crawled out of alleys and craters and broken doorways until the whole street was full of them, black shapes ringed with faint pink stripes. They had no faces—no eyes, no ears, no mouths. Their limbs ended in axes, spears, swords, shields, claws. Like mabeasts melted together with weapons, stitched into one nightmarish shape.
And they were all moving toward him.
Normally, Subaru would've laughed them off. 'Easy pickings' he'd call them. Normally, his Authority, his reflexes, his training—all of it would've cut through them like paper.
But right now? He was barely standing.
And the circle of monsters around him was closing fast.
He knew facing them all was suicide in his condition. His body screamed, his vision blurred, and every muscle threatened to snap at the seams. Fighting here meant death.
So he chose the only option that made sense.
Run.
Body, don't fail me now…
And flee for his life.
If Garfiel, Wilhelm, Ricardo, and the others survived the deluge—and Subaru had faith they did—then somewhere, somehow, they'd regroup. A base of operations. A foothold. He just had to get to them.
Of course "finding" that in a city as sprawling and chaotic as Priestella was borderline impossible.
But Subaru had one trump card left.
"—I can Return by Death."
Or so he thought.
The words slipped out like they were done through instinct, but there was no response. No suffocating hand around his heart. No cold embrace of the witch and that addictive surge of power. Of course not, these things weren't human. They weren't even sentient, they wouldn't understand language.
"Tch!"
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
No time to dwell. He forced cursed energy down into his leg, his heel slamming into the pavement. The stone shattered like brittle glass, spiderweb cracks racing out. Dust exploded upward, momentarily slowing the pack of beasts around him.
It wasn't much. But it was all he needed.
Subaru was already in the air, body twisting mid-leap, gravity dragging him straight toward one of the monsters.
"—HRYAH!"
The black-blade of Pride manifested, his entire being screaming in rebellion at the summoning. Blood streaked down his face from his eyes as the blade cleaved in a brutal arc, piercing clean through a beast's head. Its malformed body collapsed under him with a wet thud, and Subaru was sprinting before it even hit the ground.
He curved through the horde in an attempt to break through, weaving between lashes of claws and spears, slipping under a bladed tail that split stone like butter. His body moved on desperation alone.
"Ghhk—!"
A strike grazed him along the left arm, pain spiking sharp enough to nearly stagger him. The wound burned hotter than it should've—Ferris' healing from before hadn't fully completed, of course, he did lose that arm not long ago, so it was expected.
Move, move, MOVE!!
He vaulted over another beast, his blade slicing through its skull as he vaulted over its collapsing body. The ground shook beneath him as another monster crashed down.
Then his legs buckled.
He barely caught himself, palms scraping stone as he staggered forward. Every nerve screamed. He'd been beyond his limits since the moment he woke up. This—this was breaking him.
He lunged toward an alleyway, desperate for space, for even a breath—
But the shadows there moved. More of the beasts, crawling out like spiders, surrounding him again.
"Uff… uff… hufff…"
His breaths came ragged. His blade trembled in his grip. He felt it flicker, already fading, his Authority slipping through his fingers.
"… Fuck."
Was this it? Was this where he died again? Surrounded, alone, not even by Capella's hand but by her creations?
He clenched his jaw. Death wasn't foreign. But this? To die here, like this, to these things after standing against the likes of Reid Astrea himself—
"—Screw that!!"
The black blade blinked out of existence. Pride was gone, burned out completely.
But Subaru didn't stop. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
So he did the only thing left to him—tear, claw, and destroy with his bare damn hands.
Two movements at once. His arm shot forward, seizing the writhing, weaponized limb of one beast, even as he ducked low, spine bending unnaturally under the swipe of another.
Instinct. That's all they had. No tactics. No discipline. Just blind hunger.
The result was immediate: the lunging beast crashed headlong into the one Subaru held, the pair collapsing in a heap of tangled flesh and screeching steel.
"Got you!"
He stomped down hard, grinding bone to paste beneath his heel, then wrenched with every fiber of strength he could muster. The tail tore free in his hands with a wet, ripping sound, the severed limb thrashing violently before it stilled.
It was heavy, grotesque—like a flail forged of raw sinew, its axe-head jagged, streaked with blood that wasn't his own.
"Perfect…"
Subaru whispered, and then the grin split across his face—feral, unrestrained.
He swung. Once. The flail screamed through the air, the arc brutal and merciless, cleaving straight through the neck of another beast. The head flew in a spray of black, and Subaru growled as its twitching body collapsed.
Survive now. Retreat later. Find the others.
The City Hall.
It might sound insane, but it made sense. Capella, for all her insanity, was annoyingly smart. With the flood, her leverage she had over all of them had vanished. No hostages meant no bargaining chip. She'd run even with her immortality, nobody would want to face both Gojo and Reinhard even with something like that after all.
The same place Subaru was planning on headed.
"Heh… Heheheh…"
He pressed his boot harder against the twitching corpses beneath him, savoring the way they cracked underfoot. The severed tail was heavy in his grasp, so he bound it around his wrist, flesh to flesh, grotesque weapon to trembling arm, as if it had become a part of him.
With a single motion, he spun it, again and again and again, the weapon shrieking through the air like a whip.
His back pressed to the wall. His front a field of corpses. Nowhere else to run.
But his eyes burned—bloodshot, frenzied, unyielding.
That was his weapon over everything else. Not cursed energy.
Madness. Stubborn, searing madness.
That was Natsuki Subaru.
That was what made him unstoppable.
The grin stretched wider, teeth bared, eyes alight with delirious fire.
"Come on then you bastards…"
"—BRING IT!"
One lunged low on all fours, its axe-tail sweeping. Subaru vaulted it, boots planting on its back before he twisted midair, bringing his stolen weapon down like a butcher's cleaver. The spine cracked and split before the body fell twitching.
A spear-tipped limb jabbed at him—too fast. Subaru twisted his torso as fast as he could respond, though he couldn't avoid it completely as the weapon grazed his ribs and tore through flesh, pain lancing white-hot through his veins, but he didn't slow at all, he couldn't.
He barreled into the horde, a storm of black hair, blood, and madness. Every swing of the tail-flail shattered bone, severed limbs, crushed skulls. He swung until his wrists bled, until his shoulders screamed.
"HRK—AGH!"
Claws raked across his back, sending him staggering. He spun, weapon dragging a wide circle, splitting three more beasts apart. His knees buckled, but he roared through it, surging forward like a beast himself.
The alleyways blurred past. The ruined streets bent into chaos. He didn't even know where he was anymore, only that he had to keep moving forward.
That was all he could do.
Just run.
With all of his might.
He just ran.
And struck.
Ran and struck. Again and again and again.
No matter how many came his way.
——————————————
The clash of steel against flesh resounded elsewhere, ringing through the ruined halls of City Hall. Half-destroyed, half-burnt, the grand building was a battlefield.
A final cry was cut short as a blade slid free, and a black-and-pink abomination collapsed. Standing above it, chest heaving, was the knight who embodied elegance even in ruin. Julius Juukulius. His sword dripped unusual blood, his usually pristine attire torn and stained. His breath was sharp, his movements heavy—but his eyes never wavered.
"That was the last of them for now."
He declared, steady despite the exhaustion etching his frame.
The words carried authority, but his body betrayed the toll. His white uniform was in tatters, cuts and bruises mapping across his skin—remnants of his earlier battle with the masked cultist before fate split him from Subaru and Crusch.
But the silence wasn't total. Muffled sobs still bled through the battered halls. Felix Argyle's voice, raw with despair. The greatest healer in Lugunica, yet powerless now to undo the grotesque curse inflicted upon the woman he cherished most.
Wilhelm van Astrea stepped forward, the old sword demon's blade sliding into its sheath. His weathered face was calm, but there was weight in his tone.
"This is my fault. Instead of guarding Lady Crusch as I should have… I chose selfishness."
Julius shook his head immediately, firm but not unkind.
"Selfish? Perhaps. But blame? No. That lies only with the Archbishop of Lust. Felix's anger at you is grief speaking, nothing more. He will understand that, in time."
Wilhelm lowered his eyes, silent. His shoulders carried the burden all the same.
"Tch…" Garfiel's voice broke the tension, a growl of frustration. The young warrior's fists clenched, knuckles white.
"Where the hell's the boss!? Dammit, he ain't dead—I know he ain't!"
Despite his battered state—his blond hair and cheeks smeared crimson, his clothes slashed to ribbons—Garfiel's certainty never wavered. Even when Subaru had been weaker than himself, even when Garfiel's arrogance dismissed him, something instinctual screamed inside him: don't underestimate Natsuki Subaru. Death just didn't suit that man at all.
Julius turned to him, brushing dust from his blade.
"Subaru is clever, resourceful, powerful too. If anyone can predict the Witch Cult's retreat, it's him. He may be on his way here even now, with one of his… unconventional ideas."
For the first time in hours, Garfiel's mouth curved into a rough grin.
"Heh. Guess ya know the boss better than I thought."
Julius didn't reply, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. Wilhelm noticed at once.
"Something troubles you."
Julius blinked, caught. He had thought his expression controlled, unreadable. He was wrong.
"You're perceptive. Yes… The cultist I fought. They were likely a threat beyond most of the Archbishop's themselves. I… could not strike them. Not once. It was as if—"
His jaw tightened, words bitten off with shame.
"—as if I was fighting a man beyond the realm of skill."
Wilhelm's frown deepened. If Julius, a man of caliber perhaps greater than himself, admitted such failure, then the foe must be monstrous indeed.
"I see…"
Julius continued, voice grim.
"The square, the halls, our every move—it was orchestrated. We were puppets. Our division of labor, the diversions, all of it bought them time. Were it not for that poor soul twisted into that black dragon by Lust, or the sudden flood, none of us would likely be standing here now."
His words fell heavy, but no rebuttal came. Because there was none.
Julius exhaled, lips parting.
"Perhaps… I should—"
A creak cut him off. The groaning of a door on rusted hinges.
Instantly, every warrior in the room turned, hands flying to weapons.
"—!!"
Garfiel's eyes went wide.
"... B-Boss!?"
"Subaru—!"
It was him. And yet—was it?
What stood there was more corpse than man. His black hair was plastered to his face, matted in clumps of blood. His steps dragged like a puppet whose strings were frayed, every shuffle carrying him only because some mad refusal to collapse pushed him forward.
His body was a battlefield—scars raw and open, bruises layered over bruises, skin torn until it barely clung to him. His clothes were drenched red, stiff and dripping, the stink of iron rolling off him in suffocating waves.
And in his hand? Nothing. His grip had gone long ago, his hands unable to clench. But around his wrist, lashed into his flesh until it cut deep, was the severed beast's tail. Its axe-head gleamed faintly in the light, slick with blood that wasn't his own.
He stumbled another step, and his legs finally gave.
Wilhelm surged forward, catching him before he hit the ground.
"He yet lives! But not for long!" the old man barked, urgency cutting through the shock of the others.
"Argh—dammit!!"
Garfiel snarled, fists trembling.
Julius alone kept his composure, though his face was grave.
"Ferris. Only he can mend wounds like these. I'll bring him!"
But Wilhelm's gaze remained on Subaru's pale, unconscious face. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he held the boy's weight.
"…What in the world…"
"…what did you endure to come back like this…?"
———————————————
Elsewhere in the city, a man stood with his hands buried in his pockets, a faint crease of confusion marring his usually confident expression. All around him, black-and-pink monsters snarled and circled, teeth glinting like shards of glass.
Yet he paid them no mind.
A breeze whispered through his hair—soft, almost serene—but carried with it a chill that made the back of his neck prickle. The city stretched around him, eerily silent, abandoned, yet somehow familiar in a way he couldn't place.
He straightened, shoulders squared, standing tall like a statue amid the chaos.
A blink, then a slow, almost bemused smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Well… this certainly wasn't on my bingo card…"
And though he could not remember why, there was a strange comfort in the way the world seemed to bend around him, as if it somehow waited for him to act. Something in the emptiness felt like… opportunity.