"A curious tale. However, I fail to comprehend why you presume this to be your own fault. Mine eyes are not so clouded; all I discern from your rambling is that you are far too eager to claim responsibility for matters beyond your reach."
The masked man's eyes remained indifferent as he spoke, though his gaze was fixed firmly upon Natsuki Subaru.
For the past few hours, the two had been conversing—to the point where the sun overhead had vanished completely, replaced by the all-encompassing darkness of the night.
While Subaru found it strange that the hunter had ceased their pursuit—and hadn't attacked since before he ran into this man—no longer did he harbor suspicions that the masked figure before him was the very one who had nearly ended his life with an arrow.
Not only was this man prideful, but he also did not seem the type to lie.
Of course, Subaru hadn't outright asked the man if he had tried to kill him recently, but that was beside the point.
"Then what—"
"To put it simply: you are a fool."
Subaru blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"You attempt to shoulder the blame entirely, even when you are not the cause of the misfortune that surrounds you. A greedy, arrogant fool—that is how you appear in mine eyes."
Subaru had decided to tell the man about his recent tribulations—though the reason why, he didn't quite understand. He spoke primarily of the events in Priestella, involving the pseudo-Geto and Gojo.
Subaru sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he stared down at the golden flecks of the campfire between them.
"Just a habit, I guess." He shrugged, averting his gaze toward the unconscious, blonde-haired little girl nearby. She still hadn't moved an inch.
The mere sight of her caused his brow to furrow in a mix of rage and disgust, yet he felt a spike of anger at himself for making the decision to save her.
What were the chances that this monster wouldn't go on to kill again? She had stolen the identities and lives of countless innocent people—she had even stolen Gojo's name—and here he was, sparing her.
Simply...
He repeated to himself.
For Gojo-sensei... this is for him. If there's even a fraction of a percentage chance that the memories stolen by Gluttony can be returned... I'm not going to kill her.
"You view that child with contempt." The masked man stated. It was not a question, but a fact he had observed.
Subaru just shrugged.
"It's not really something I want to get into right now. All you need to know is that she is... a burden. To say the least."
That was certainly putting it lightly.
Of course, Subaru didn't give the real reason for his hatred. Why would he? He didn't know where he was, but he didn't want to test how infamous the Witch Cult and the Sin Archbishops were in this part of the continent.
Not that he believed he would lose to this man if they were to fight. Certainly not.
But he also didn't want to harm him.
While the man often made mocking or rude comments, unless Subaru said something truly stupid, those comments were often finely veiled lessons. As prideful as this man was, he didn't seem... entirely malicious.
"Why do you cast such a gaze my way, fool? I can discern your thoughts; I have seen that look countless times before. Do not mistake my words for something positive—you are merely entertaining. Nothing more, nothing less."
Well, maybe he is a jerk after all.
"Well... can't 'entertaining' be taken as something positive?" Subaru asked with a smirk.
The masked man didn't flinch. He merely tossed a stick into the campfire and watched the kindling burst.
"Perhaps. Though, it resembles a double-edged sword. It can be as beneficial as it is fatal; it all depends on whose interest you have caught in the end, does it not?"
Subaru remained quiet, realizing he had been outplayed verbally yet again, and waited for the man to continue.
"Simply, let us say you were entertaining enough to matter. That grants you opportunity—briefly. But the moment you cease to be useful, or worse, become inconvenient, that same interest will sharpen itself into a blade and ask whether you are worth the trouble of sheathing it."
Subaru lowered his head in understanding, choosing for once to hold his tongue.
Silence stretched between them for several minutes. The only sounds were the crackling of the campfire and the rustle of the wind through the countless trees surrounding them, emphasizing the serenity of nature against their precarious situation.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Natsuki Subaru who broke the silence, but the masked man.
"—What do you intend to do from here?"
It was the same question the man had posed when they first crossed paths—a question that, at the time, Subaru hadn't been able to answer.
"I'm going to make my way through this jungle." Subaru started, his voice gaining strength. "I'll figure out exactly where I am, find Gojo-sensei, and restore his memories. Then, I'm going back to my friends."
The man didn't immediately mock him. Instead, he studied Subaru with a critical eye.
"Is that so? Such things are far easier said than done. Do you truly believe you can achieve this, regardless of the impossibility?"
Subaru offered a wry grin, his eyes snapping up from the fire to meet the masked man's stern gaze through the eye-holes of the helm.
"That's just who I am. I've overcome the impossible countless times already. I don't intend to let something like this stop me."
Something flickered in the masked man's eyes. Perhaps it was acknowledgment, or perhaps it was something Subaru couldn't quite identify.
"Hmph. Natsuki Subaru. From what I have seen, you look and act like a fool more often than not—"
"...Rude!"
"—However..." The man continued, ignoring the outburst. "I cannot dismiss your words as mere arrogance. Though I do not know the extent of your capabilities, your spirit is... notable."
The man reached into the folds of his pristine robes, producing an object that made Subaru tense up in preparation, before tossing it through the air.
Subaru caught it with ease. He looked down, brow raised, to find a small knife encased in a leather sheath.
"A knife? You know I don't really need this, right?"
The man merely stared at him, giving a shrug.
"I am aware. I saw that black blade you conjured from nothing. But that is not the purpose of this gift."
The masked man leaned back, his tone turning cryptic.
"You will find that, although the Empire prizes strength above all else... there are times when bloodshed is both a necessity, and not required at all. Remember this, Natsuki Subaru."
Subaru blinked, his mind racing.
Empire... so... Vollachia? I'm in freaking Vollachia? How the hell did that even happen? Well, I know how—but god damn it, I really want to punch that fake-Geto right in the jaw...
Pushing the anger aside for the moment, Subaru looked back at his temporary companion.
"Ah, uh... do you mind if I crash here until morning?"
The man offered a deadpan stare before rolling onto his side, turning his back to Subaru.
"Do as you please."
Subaru grinned, pumping a fist into the air like a child.
"Woohoo!"
————————————————————
Darkness swallowed him whole.
It was not the restful embrace of sleep, but a suffocating, dense void. Natsuki Subaru did not dream; he merely drifted in the fractured silence of his own psyche.
But he was not allowed to be alone.
The silence was shattered not by a voice he desired to hear, but by the wretched, grinding laughter of a madman. It echoed through the vast, dark mindscape, ricocheting off the walls of his soul, multiplying infinitely.
The cackling rose. It gnawed at his sanity.
"Kehhehh... heh..."
The cackling rose. It grew louder.
The cackling rose. It grew louder.
The cackling rose. It grew louder. The cackling rose. It grew louder. The cackling rose. It grew louder.
The cackling rose. It grew louder.
It became a deafening roar, a cacophony of mockery that grew almost unbearable.
What was this? What was this madness clawing at the back of his mind? A phantom sensation, a spectral hand reaching out, begging to be unleashed, to erupt in a geyser of insanity.
"How slothful."
That voice...
That was——
————————————————————
"Ku-khuugg—!"
Subaru's eyes snapped open, wide and bloodshot, as reality crashed into him with the force of a sledgehammer.
He didn't wake up to sunlight for it was still dark, instead, he woke up to hell.
A seismic wave of agony tore through his nervous system, so intense that his brain couldn't process it as pain—only as white-hot destruction. He tried to scream, to unleash a guttural roar, but only a wet, gurgling wheeze escaped his lips.
Can't... breathe...!
He attempted to thrash, to scramble away, but his body had been reduced to basic, twitching locomotion. He managed only to roll onto his side, and the movement sent a fresh spike of torture through his neck.
There, lodged deep within the soft flesh of his throat, was an arrow.
It wasn't just a wound. It felt as if liquid fire was being pumped directly into his jugular. The poison. It had to be poison. It coursed through him, turning his blood into scorching lava. He could feel his veins distending, sizzling, popping under the skin like overcooked sausages.
He tried to raise a trembling hand to claw the shaft out, but his limbs were heavy, unresponsive, as if the marrow in his bones had turned to lead.
Hot. Hot. It's boiling. I'm boiling.
Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—Pain—!!!
It wasn't metaphorical. He quite literally felt his capillaries bursting one by one. His heart hammered against his ribs, pumping the venom faster, faster, faster, delivering the necrosis to every inch of his being.
Stop... make it stop...! Make it stop...! MAKE IT STOP!
His vision swam in a sea of crimson. The blood vessels in his eyes had ruptured, painting the world in a horrifying, monochromatic red.
He couldn't turn to see if the masked man had suffered the same fate, or if he was the one who had attacked him. He couldn't think. He couldn't reason. All that existed was the sensation of his own biology dissolving from the inside out.
It was agony beyond comprehension. Beyond anything. Beyond pride.
"Hkgggrr... hukkkr..."
Through the red haze, his dying synapses fired one last image.
Perched atop a nearby tree branch, silhouetted against the indifferent sky, was a young woman. A bow was gripped tightly in her hand.
Her gaze was fixed on his writhing, dying body. But there was no triumph in her eyes. No bloodlust.
She was crying.
Tears streamed down her face, a portrait of sorrow and anger, even as she watched him choke on his own blood.
Red... red... everything is red... why? why? WHYWH!WHYWHYWHY?!
A primal, animalistic rage surged through the pain, the last flicker of life in his melting brain.
Kill... kill... I'll kill—you——kill...——!!!
The thought, screamed into the void by Natsuki Subaru, fell on deaf ears.
His heart gave one final, agonizing stutter, and then exploded.
Finally, he was granted the mercy of death.
And the world went black.
————————————————————
"You will find that, although the Empire prizes strength above all else... there are times when bloodshed is both a necessity, and not required at all. Remember this, Natsuki Subaru."
The masked man spoke the words again. The exact same words.
Blinking, Subaru stared ahead, but the words fell on deaf ears. They were merely sound without meaning, static against the high-pitched ringing screaming inside his skull.
Subaru's gaze dropped to the dagger in his hand. His fingers were not trembling. They were frozen, locked in a rigor of shock, because his brain could not bridge the gap between the serenity of the campfire and the hell he had just inhabited.
"Wh... aaa... t...?"
A croak. A broken sound from a throat that, seconds ago, had been dissolving from the inside out.
Why is this my life?
What just happened?
Why isn't it hot? Why isn't it burning?
The sensation of the arrow piercing his neck. The feeling of his blood turning into magma, scorching his veins, bursting his eyes. It was still there. The phantom pain washed over him, a tidal wave of sensory memory that superseded reality.
The hunter. A girl. She killed me in my sleep.
Of course.
She killed me. She killed me. She killed me.
"Ghh—!"
Tears burst from his eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer biological overload of his nervous system. He hacked, his lungs spasming as he tried to draw breath through a phantom obstruction in his windpipe.
The dagger slipped from his numb fingers, thudding softly onto the grass.
Subaru's hand clawed into the dirt, his nails tearing at the roots, anchoring himself to a world that felt like a lie. He keeled forward, his body convulsing violently, and vomited onto the ground.
There was no food in his stomach. It was nothing but bile and gastric acid, burning his throat—a pale imitation of the lava that had just consumed him.
Why...? Wwwhhhyy..? Tell me... why why? Why did that happen...?!
"Natsuki Subaru? What is the meaning of this sudden—"
The masked man's sharp, demanding voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. Subaru couldn't hear the man's question. He couldn't hear the wind. He couldn't hear the fire.
His consciousness, unable to reconcile the agony of death with the peace of life, pulled the plug.
His eyes rolled back, and for the second time in moments, everything went dark.
————————————————————
"Why... do you feign madness?"
The words did not fall on deaf ears. They burrowed into them like maggots.
"You... you, you, you—cannot even comprehend the true depths of insanity! To pretend? To act? In the face of love?"
The voice resonated from the core of his soul. It was a sound he had heard once before, in a loop of despair long, long, long ago.
But how?
Subaru's mind, melting under the heat of the poison, tried to scream.
This man... this monster is dead. He perished. I killed him. I killed him!
"How... slothful."
That voice...
That was——
Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti.
The darkness of his mindscape twisted. A figure emerged from the void—a man in clerical robes, his head tilted at a sickening, unnatural ninety-degree angle. He was biting his own fingers, drawing blood, his eyes bulging with manic delight.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes! Of course! Truly, truly, truly, such slothfulness from you!"
The phantom Archbishop contorted, his spine cracking audibly as he leaned over Subaru's paralyzed consciousness.
"After that declaration! Ahahahaa!! Yes, yes! That grand, boisterous declaration you made to save your dearest white-haired friend? To see them all again? To be a hero?"
Petelgeuse's face rushed forward, filling Subaru's vision, his breath reeking of old blood and madness.
"Love! Love! Love! Love! Love! You claim to have it? You claim to be diligent?!"
There was a pause. A silence heavier than the grave.
Subaru's fractured mind attempted to conjure a thought, a defense, a denial. But the phantom merely widened its grin, tearing the corners of its mouth.
"——How... how... can you save anyone... let alone him... if you cannot even handle a little poison? If you die here, like a dog, in the dirt?"
The Archbishop's eyes spun wildly.
"You are not diligent, Natsuki Subaru. You are... Sloth!"
————————————————————
"You didn't have to do that..."
"Hmph. You suddenly break down into tears, vomit on my campsite, and lose consciousness. You have no leverage to dictate how I spend my time."
Subaru sighed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Still... you didn't need to stay awake just to watch over me...."
The masked man merely raised a brow behind his helm, before slowly shaking his head.
"Do not mistake vigilance for charity. It is merely a pragmatic response to an unpredictable variable. To sleep while a companion writhes in madness would be... unwise."
Subaru wasn't sure how much he agreed with the sentiment. After all, he had met plenty of monsters in this world who would have taken advantage of his vulnerability to slit his throat without a second thought.
The Archbishops went without saying—though he hesitated to even classify those things as 'human.'
"I wouldn't exactly call it 'human nature,' but..."
A faint, fleeting smirk seemed to touch the masked man's lips, though it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Telling his emotions by his eyes alone is seriously difficult...
"You would be correct, Natsuki Subaru. If you expose such weakness in this land, it is a certainty that nothing good will come of it. In all honesty, you would likely be dead had you shown such a disgraceful display before anyone else."
Subaru tilted his head, humming a low note as he cast his gaze upward. The night sky was a tapestry of darkness, illuminated by countless stars that glimmered with cold indifference.
There wasn't a single constellation he recognized from Earth. Yet, the sight brought him a sliver of peace, grounding him against the phantom sensation of his organs being scorched by poison.
"The Land of Wolves, right? I heard that's what this place is called."
He received no response, and he didn't bother to look down.
"You are a difficult man to grasp. Regardless... you may address me as Abel. I have a feeling our paths will remain aligned for the foreseeable future."
Subaru's head snapped down, his eyes widening as they landed on the masked man.
Abel... huh. I kind of forgot I never actually got this guy's name after all this time.
"Well, that's totally ominous, but aside from that—I'd introduce myself too, but annoyingly enough, you already know my name! Gosh darn my loud mouth sometimes."
Subaru forced a grin, slapping his cheeks to wake himself up.
"But moving on from that... how much time has passed since I passed out?"
The masked man—Abel—inclined his head slightly, giving a swift, precise answer.
"Approximately two hours."
Subaru let out a shaky breath.
Two hours.
He had no idea when the hunter was going to return. Or perhaps... why she hadn't returned to kill him a second time while he was unconscious.
Did she look at Abel and consider him too risky a threat?
Subaru glanced at the masked man, then down at himself.
Does that mean I look totally unthreatening, while Abel looks like a boss?!
"Avert your meaningless internal debate elsewhere. You asked a question; I answered it."
That couldn't be the case! This is about my pride, damn it! I can't accept being less threatening than a guy wearing a damn rag on his face!
But jokes aside... the reality settled in cold and heavy in his gut.
The hunter had killed him. He remembered the pain. He remembered the heat.
If she was out there, she was waiting.
The silhouette of the woman in the tree burned in his mind, giving him chills that had nothing to do with the night air. It didn't matter how much power he had, or if he had the Sword Saint by his side, or the power of the Sword Saint himself. Dying like that—helpless, choking on his own blood—was a fear that cut deeper than logic.
"Alright..."
Subaru slapped his knees and sat up straighter, his eyes hardening as he stared into the dark treeline.
He certainly wasn't going to sleep tonight. Not until he caught this hunter.
————————————————————
She landed silently atop the branch overlooking the camp, letting out a short, shaky breath.
Finally. The time is here.
The man was dangerous. Her instincts screamed it. Taking down a threat of this magnitude while he was awake was impossible for someone of her standing. She was not her sister.
But the moment she had returned from alerting the others, she found him sleeping.
A mercy from the spirits? Or a trap?
She drew her bow, the wood creaking softly as she nocked the arrow. Her hands trembled.
She couldn't afford to hold back. To miss was to die.
Steady. Steady.
Her aim wavered. She had intended to pierce his heart, to grant him a swift, merciful death. But her nerves betrayed her. The fear of the prophesized "Great Disaster" clouded her vision, causing her aim to sway at the critical moment, shifting the target from his chest to his exposed neck.
After a thousand nights, a black-haired traveler has appeared in the forest.
The prophecy rang in her ears. Struck by a shock akin to her heart freezing over, she had chosen to become a hunter. She had to. For the tribe. For her sister.
Calmly. Coolly. The silver tip of the arrow settled on the man's throat.
She released the string.
—Twang.
The arrow flew true, a silver streak of death in the moonlight.
"———Ah?"
It missed?
The arrow didn't pierce flesh. It slammed into the dirt mere millimeters from his neck.
How?
————————————————————
The answer was immediate: He had been pretending to sleep.
Subaru knew that if he had opted to sit upright all night, the hunter would never have revealed herself. She was definitely the cautious type—likely the same reason she hadn't shown herself after Subaru evaded the first arrow.
The sound of the bowstring snapping was the only warning he needed.
His eyes flared open, immediately locking onto the silver tip rapidly approaching his throat.
Fear spiked in his chest, cold and sharp, but he did not let it show. He refused to suffer the same fate as the last loop. He refused to feel his blood boil again.
He trusted in his power.
The Authority of Pride.
It was a flexible power, usually used to conjure shadows from the void. But against a projectile like this, he used its secondary application: Trajectory Deviation.
As he decided to call it.
Rule 1: Actually be able to perceive the attack.
Rule 2: Fixate his eyes onto the attack.
Subaru's eyes widened, his pupils constricting as he focused entirely on the arrow. The world seemed to slow. The air around the projectile warped, obeying his command to miss.
The arrow obeyed. It veered off course, burying itself harmlessly in the earth.
A sharp throb pulsed behind Subaru's eyes—the cost of the ability. He could only use this deflection three, maybe four times in quick succession before the neural agony became blinding. But one was enough.
Watching the arrow strike the ground, Subaru didn't waste a millisecond.
"———!"
He shot upright, not with the grogginess of a sleeper, but with the explosive speed of a coiled spring.
The woman's eyes widened in horror. She immediately attempted to disengage, scrambling backward to use the height of the branch to her advantage.
Though Subaru didn't climb after her, nor did he jump.
He pivoted on his heel, channeling every ounce of strength into his leg, and delivered a devastating roundhouse kick—not to the air, but to the trunk of the massive tree itself.
—CRACK!
The sound was like a thunderclap. Wood splintered and groaned as the thick trunk was severed at its base by the sheer, unnatural force of the blow.
"Hrk——!"
The tree began to topple.
Falling through the air, the hunter's world spun. Gravity took hold, flipping her upside down. Yet, her discipline held. Even as she fell, she nocked another arrow, her eyes frantically tracking the monster of a man who had just kicked down a tree like it was made of paper.
But to her eyes—even the honed eyes of a hunter like her—he was a ghost weaving through the trees at absurd speeds.
Natsuki Subaru was simply too fast. Cursed Energy surged through his pathways, reinforcing his limbs to a superhuman degree, turning him into a specter that belonged to the darkness of the jungle. He was a flickering blur, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Desperation seized her. As Subaru burst from the cover of the towering trees, she unleashed the poison-tipped arrow, abandoning precision for prayer.
She didn't need to pierce his heart. She didn't need to sever his spine. A graze—a single scratch—would be enough to topple a Witchbeast.
He didn't know this, but Subaru wasn't going to take any sort of risk with one of her arrows, even if they would struggle to get through his reinforcement if he opted to push it to the limit.
He didn't break stride. His lead foot slid through the muddy earth, his body dropping low. With a fluid, unnatural jerk of his neck, he weaved into a sideward arc.
—Whoosh.
The arrow sliced the air where his jugular had been a fraction of a second before, the fletching buzzing past his ear like an angry hornet before it pierced one of the countless trees behind him.
"——Tch!!"
The girl landed hard on her back, but her discipline held. Despite the drop, she rolled with the impact, flipping back upright onto one knee. Her hand flew over her shoulder, fingers grasping for the next arrow—
But Subaru was already there.
Less than two meters separated them. His eyes were cold, devoid of mercy, glowing faintly in the gloom.
"Gahkk—!"
Subaru's hand shot out, clamping around her throat with the force of a vice. The impact lifted her slightly, choking the breath from her lungs before she could even draw her weapon.
He prepared to slam her into the dirt, but a sound behind him—the unnatural rustle of displaced air—shattered his focus.
"—Abel!?"
Subaru's peripheral vision caught the campsite. It was empty. The masked man was gone.
He vanished?!
The split-second of confusion was all the hunter needed.
Sensing his grip loosen by a millimeter, she didn't try to escape. She drew a dagger from her belt and snapped it toward his exposed neck with the speed of a striking viper.
It was a kill shot.
But Subaru's survival instinct was faster than his conscious thought. His head snapped back, his eyes locking onto the glinting steel.
Thus, the blade shuddered in the air. Against the laws of physics, the tip drifted inches to the right, missing his throat and slicing harmlessly through the air.
"—Wha-hk?!"
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Subaru didn't give her a second chance.
His grip on her throat tightened, threatening to crush her windpipe. Simultaneously, his free hand chopped down onto her wrist.
—CRACK.
The sound of bone fracturing was sickeningly loud, and the dagger fell from her limp fingers which Subaru deftly kicked aside.
"You—!"
Subaru pulled his hand back. The shadows of his Authority erupted from his skin, not forming a refined blade, but a jagged, shapeless spike of pitch-black obsidian that replaced his fist entirely.
He was going to end it. Karma at its finest.
He thrust the shadow-spike forward, aiming directly for her heart—
"—Wait!!"
An unfamiliar voice beckoned him from the side, desperation leaking from the feminine tone.
"...And why should I?"
Subaru's voice was frigid, his fingers digging into the girl's throat with unyielding force. He stared toward the brown-skinned woman standing several meters away. She was a striking figure—tall, sculpted with Amazonian muscle, her black hair dyed crimson at the tips and swept sharply to one side.
"Well..." the woman drawled, the edge of her blade pressed casually against the masked man's jugular. "I would certainly prefer not to ruin such a handsome face by painting it red. But do not force my hand, boy."
Subaru's eyes darted to the periphery. She wasn't alone. Dozens of other women, all tanned and armed with bows and spears, materialized from the jungle's gloom, their gazes locked on him like a pack of wolves encircling a cornered beast.
Abel... damn it. How can he still look so calm?! And 'handsome face'? He's got a freaking rag covering it!
Despite the cold steel kissing his neck, Abel remained irritatingly composed. His posture was rigid, his breathing rhythmic, as if he were sitting on a throne rather than standing at death's door.
"Miz—elda..." The girl in Subaru's grip choked out, clawing feebly at his forearm.
Subaru's jaw tightened. He wasn't a murderer. He wasn't a monster. But the phantom sensation of boiling blood and scorching poison still lingered in his nerves—a memory of a death that had happened only hours ago in his timeline. This girl had killed him. She had watched him writhe in agony.
"He's wearing a mask, you know!" Subaru shouted, the absurdity of the comment breaking through his simmering rage. "How can you tell if he's handsome or not?!"
The woman—Mizelda as it was said—didn't blink. Her sharp eyes remained fixed on Subaru, calculating distance, speed, and lethality.
"Hah! Call it a woman's intuition~!" she smirked, though the humor didn't reach her predatory eyes. "But on a far more serious note... let my little sister go."
Subaru growled low in his throat. With the cursed energy reinforcing his body, he knew he could snap Taritta's neck before they could loose a single arrow. He could fight. He could win.
"She tried to kill me..." Subaru spat. "She shot... tried to shoot me. How is letting her go 'fair'?"
Mizelda's expression softened imperceptibly as she glanced at her struggling sister, then hardened into steel as she looked back at Subaru.
"Then let us make a trade. I will return Mister Handsome here to you, and you will release Taritta. We will all walk away. No bloodshed. No death. A life for a life."
Subaru hesitated. It was a logical deal. He didn't want to kill Taritta—he wasn't that far gone—and he needed Abel alive to navigate this hellscape.
He was surprisingly about to agree when a voice, calm and dripping with confidence, cut through the tension.
"I refuse."
"Eh?" Subaru blinked, his grip loosening slightly in shock.
"Huh?" Mizelda just raised a brow, equally stumped as Subaru.
"I have no intention of being used as a mere bargaining chip." Abel stated, sounding more bored than any hostage had any intention of being. "Nor do I intend to leave the People of Shudrak."
Subaru stared at him, dumbfounded.
Is he crazy? Does he have a death wish?
"What the hell are you talking about—"
"I require their dominion." Abel interrupted, his voice slicing over Subaru's. "My path requires resources far vaster than this petty skirmish. This violence holds no meaning and yields no profit. Natsuki Subaru, release the woman."
"———"
Subaru's eyes flared. It wasn't a request. It was a command. Even with a knife to his throat, surrounded by enemies, Abel was ordering him around.
This guy... he's actually insane. Or he's a genius. Or both.
Subaru looked at the Shudrak warriors, then at Mizelda, and finally at the masked man who seemed to hold all the cards despite holding no weapons.
"Argh... fine!" Subaru groaned, the tension leaving his shoulders. "If you go and get yourself killed, don't blame me!"
He shoved Taritta forward. She collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, gasping for air as she massaged her bruised neck.
In return, Mizelda lowered her blade from Abel's neck. At her silent signal, the dozens of warriors in the trees lowered their bows, the suffocating killing intent in the clearing dissipating like smoke.
"Though..." Subaru added, his voice dropping an octave, the area surrounding his body flaring subtly with a trace of cursed energy that seemed to warp the air itself. "If she comes back for me—or if any of you do... I won't be so nice next time."
Mizelda studied him for a moment, a newfound respect—and perhaps a hint of wariness—in her gaze. She sighed, sheathing her dagger with a flourish.
"As Chieftain of the Shudrak, you have my apologies—and my gratitude—for sparing my foolish little sister. I will ensure she is... reprimanded for her haste."
Subaru merely shrugged, turning his attention back to Abel, ignoring the wall of Amazonian warriors retreating into the jungle's darkness.
"...Are you sure about this, Abel?"
Abel adjusted his collar, unbothered by the near-death experience, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.
"You lack the context to understand the shifting tides of Vollachia, Natsuki Subaru. But fear not. I will ensure you are enlightened... the next time we meet."
The next time, huh? He's certainly confident.
Subaru remained silent, watching as Mizelda helped Taritta to her feet. The Chieftain, the hunter, and the strange masked-man disappeared into the dense foliage, leaving Subaru alone by the dying campfire and an unconscious blonde-child close by.
He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, exhausted sigh that rattled in his chest.
"...Just what the hell have I gotten myself into?"