The Crimson Lapis Castle was enveloped in silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the city below.
Meili Portroute perched on the edge of a balcony, her legs dangling over the steep drop. She busied herself braiding a strand of her blue hair, her face betraying boredom.
"Why did that idiot have to leave me here…"
Meili muttered, her gaze fixed on the ground.
Yorna Mishigure stood calmly behind her, hands clasped behind her back.
"He was concerned for your safety; a warzone is no place for a child, after all. I did not want him to go either, but it would have been wrong to keep him here against his will."
Yorna replied evenly.
While it might of seemed hypocritical of Yorna to allow Gojo to leave while keeping Meili here, she had her reasons for doing so.
Not to mention, she'd likely agree with such a description.
Meili huffed, blowing a stray lock from her face.
"Stupid. He's so stu~pid. He doesn't even know where he's going. He just… poof—gone."
She turned sharply.
"Why did you let him go? You could've stopped him. You're strong. You could've made him stay."
Yorna smiled gently—though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Could I? I am not so sure I agree with that, child. After all, a bird cannot be caged forever, especially one that longs for the sky."
"He's not a bird. He's a total weirdo~!"
Meili rested her chin on her palm, staring out at the city.
"He said he was going to stop the war. Save everyone. Like he's some kind of damn hero."
"Is that so bad?"
Yorna asked, stepping closer.
"It's annoying. Heroes always die. Or get people killed trying to be heroes. It's… messy."
Yorna placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
"It sounds like you are worried about him."
"I am not!"
Meili snapped, shrugging her off.
"He's just entertaining. And he pro~mised to buy me sweets. If he dies, who's going to buy me sweets?"
Yorna laughed softly.
"Ah, yes. The sweets, of course."
The sun dipped lower, staining the sky orange and violet.
"That child is unlike any I have met," Yorna murmured. "He thinks in ways no child should."
Meili glanced up.
"You think he'll come back?"
"Of course. He said he would. And he has found something he believes worth fighting for."
"...The Empire?"
Yorna shook her head.
"No. It may look that way... but he fights for himself. He does what he believes is right, regardless of orders or opinion. In its own way, that is heroic."
Meili frowned faintly.
"That's not what it looks like to me~..."
"Well..."
Yorna said gently, patting her head.
"Storms do not last forever, child. When this one passes, perhaps we will all have a story to tell."
Meili cast one last glance at the horizon.
———————————————————————
Within her chamber in the Crimson Lapis Castle—one of many opulent suites designed to swallow a person in gold and silk—Meili Portroute sat alone with her thoughts.
Everything that had transpired felt like a fever dream. If it weren't for Satoru Gojo, she would not be here. Yet, paradoxically, she owed her very breath to the mercy of the man who had ended her previous life.
With a weary sigh, she dragged her fingers across the well polished table before slumping into a chair.
Vollachia was a desert in more ways than one.
Its infamous desolation compared to Lugunica was a nightmare for her; the lack of Witchbeasts left her feeling stripped bare.
Without those beasts to command, she was exposed. Vulnerable.
Right now, I'm no different from an ordinary, pathetic little girl.
"I knew Vollachia was barren, but this is just rid~iculous..." she muttered to the empty room.
If there was one thing she truly wanted, it was for Satoru Gojo to return.
Despite the irony, she had formed a somewhat parasitic attachment to the young man who had killed the only woman she considered family——Elsa Granhiert.
If 'She' were to ever hear that…
Meili shuddered, the mere thought bringing a chill to her bones.
Under Mother's tutelage, both she and Elsa had learned with agonizing clarity that there were fates far more creative—and worse—than death.
But that was over. She had forgiven Gojo.
With the second chance he had carved out for her, she hoped to never have to look upon Her face again.
"——Heeey~!"
A voice, bright and agonizingly familiar, sliced through the silence.
Meili's head snapped toward the doorway.
White hair. Bandaged eyes. A slouch so casual it bordered on rude.
But the proportions were wrong—or rather, they were right.
The cursed, childlike form Satoru Gojo had occupied when he left was gone. Standing there was the tall, lanky teenager she had first met.
"Uh… Earth to Meili-chan? You there?"
"W-What? How are you… why are you here already~?"
He leaned forward with a theatrical flourish, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Well, I figured out how to revert to my gorgeous self! Aaand… let's just say I had a change of heart? Mmm, yeah! That sounds about right~" He flashed a wide, blinding grin.
Meili didn't smile back. She pushed her chair away, her movements stiff and cautious.
"A change of heart…? That doesn't sound like something you would say. You're usually more… annoying."
Her voice died in her throat.
The appearance was perfect. The mannerisms were a flawless mirror.
But the atmosphere in the room had curdled.
A heavy, intense pressure began to weigh on her chest. It was cold. Like a serpent of pure malice coiling around her heart.
She knew this feeling. It was a scent she could never wash off.
Meili's face drained of color, turning a sickly porcelain white.
"N-No…"
The figure tilted its head, the movement a fraction too fast, a fraction too smooth.
No more words were needed. Instinct, honed by years of survival, took over.
Meili bolted toward the balcony doors as fast as she possibly good.
Run. Jump. Fall. Shatter on the stones below. Anything but this.
But before her feet could clear the threshold, the air itself seemed to turn into lead. A crushing pressure seized her from behind, yanking her off her feet and dragging her back into the darkness of the room.
"What? You figured it out? I suppose you always were a bit more perceptive than the other little meat-bags."
"——Ghk!"
Before she could scream, a hand shot across the room.
It wasn't a human hand—it stretched disturbingly, shifting and bubbling as the bones and muscles underneath the skin amalgamate.
It wrapped around her throat, slamming her spine against the stone wall and hoisting her into the air.
"Aww… that's so annoying. But Mother is feeling especially benevolent today. You might have actually escaped your punishment if you'd managed to splatter yourself on the pavement~"
The playful Gojo-esque tone twisted, warping into a voice that sounded like grinding glass and honey.
Meili clawed at the hand with all of her might—— she didn't want this, there was nothing worse than what was going to happen to her.
She alongside her deceased sister had experience when it came to Mother's tantrums and rage being directed onto them.
"You've been a very bad girl, Meili-chan~."
The head of the "Gojo" figure jerked sideways with a revolting crack.
A hand rose to the face, fingers digging into the cheek.
Then, the skin began to peel away in a way that seemed far too easy.
It didn't tear like paper; it sloughed off like melting wax, revealing the nightmare beneath.
A single bloodshot eye, burning with manic cruelty, stared at her. A mouth, far wider than any human jaw should allow, stretched into a jagged grin.
Meili's lungs burned, her vision blurring as she stared into the face of her greatest fear.
"First... I think a year ago, or so, I learn that useless, big-chested doll of mine went and got herself killed. That really soured Mother's mood, you know?"
The creature leaned in, its breath smelling of copper and rot.
"And then… muuuch later, in Priestella… I find out that you disobeyed me completely. You ran away. You left."
The grip tightened until Meili's world began to flicker. The voice dropped into a demonic, guttural growl.
"Did you really think you could escape love, Meili-chan? Did you think you could hide from Mother's sweet embrace?"
A high-pitched, warbling laughter echoed through the opulent chamber, mocking the luxury of her temporary sanctuary.
"Oh, we are going to have so much fun. I'm going to transform you into something truly beautiful. Something that will never, ever dream of leaving Mother again~"
The entity wearing Gojo's face widened its grin, the expression pulling the skin taut in a way that looked entirely wrong.
With a slow, deliberate motion, the creature licked its lips and bit down hard on its own wrist.
The sound was a sickening squelch.
Unlike any human wound, the blood didn't just flow; it hissed. The fluid was a toxic, unnatural purple, steaming as it reacted with the air.
Meili watched in paralyzed horror as the first heavy droplet began to slide down the creature's arm, dangling precariously above her face.
"I wonder what you'll turn into toda——"
——SMASH!
A violent concussive shockwave erupted directly in front of her.
In her oxygen-deprived haze, the world became a blur of shattered wood and gray dust.
Though, the crushing grip on her throat vanished instantly.
Meili hit the floor, her knees hitting the wooden floor as she collapsed forward, hacking and convulsing while dragging desperate, burning gulps of air into her lungs.
"——Are you alright?"
Meili forced her head up, her vision swimming. For a fleeting second, she expected to see the towering, elegant silhouette of Yorna Mishigure—the only person she thought capable of such a rescue.
But the figure before her was much smaller.
The stoic, youthful features of Tanza, the deer girl, filled her sight.
The girl's expression remained as calm as a frozen lake, but her presence was a literal lifeline.
"Y-Yes... thank you... thank you..."
Meili wheezed, her voice a shredded ruin.
Tanza's brow furrowed.
Seeing the usually mischievous Meili reduced to such a state of primal terror sent a flicker of cold anger through her.
It was a sight that didn't belong in the Crimson Lapis Castle.
"You are welcome...."
Tanza said softly, her gaze shifting toward the wreckage.
Meili looked past her, and her heart nearly stopped again. Half the suite had been pulverized. The furniture was reduced to splinters, and the far wall was caved in, coated in a grotesque layer of pulverized flesh and steaming purple ichor.
Yet, something was moving.
Rising from the debris like a puppet on tangled strings, a mangled pair of legs and a partial torso began to sway.
With a series of wet, rhythmic pops, the creature's biology began to reconstruct itself with terrifying speed.
"Ahh~ brainless child meat-scraps really have no decency when it comes to treating a lady."
Vertebrae snapped back into alignment, muscle fibers wove together like sewing needles, and new skin sealed over the mess in a matter of seconds.
"I will deal with the intruder..."
Tanza declared. Though her voice was steady, the deep furrow of her brows betrayed a mounting unease.
This was not a foe that could be defeated by simple force.
The figure—once again wearing the flawless, handsome likeness of Satoru Gojo—stood tall and sighed with theatrical contentment.
"...Who are you?"
Tanza demanded with a tone more serious than what it usually is, dropping into a combat stance and raising her fists.
Gojo craned his neck dramatically, a hand rising up to pop at the side of his neck.
"Who am I? Oh, how rude! Didn't your mother teach you manners, you little meat-scrap?"
The figure stepped forward, the ever-familiar Six Eyes glinting with a light that was no longer divine, but uncanny.
"I am Love~! I am Beauty~! I am the Mother of all things wretched and wonderful——Capella Emerada Lugunica-chan!"
With a high-pitched giggle, the figure reached up and literally tore the facial muscles off Satoru Gojo's skull. An obscene torrent of purple blood sprayed from the wound, but the agony seemed to do nothing but fuel Capella's manic laughter.
As the blood hit the floor, the disguise melted away completely.
The new form was a jarring contradiction: golden hair framed the face of a young girl, with one long, elegant strand draped to the side and finished with a neatly tied rose.
She wore almost nothing—barely more than a bikini top and leggings—leaving a vast amount of skin exposed.
Under any other circumstance, she might have been considered a beauty, but the way her eyes twitched and her skin seemed to ripple made her nothing less than a walking nightmare.
"You interrupted my playtime with Meili-chan..."
Capella pouted, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip.
"That wasn't very nice. I was just about to turn her into a lovely little fly! Or perhaps a slug? Slugs are so squishy and cute, don't you think?"
Tanza didn't flinch. She didn't know who this woman was, but she knew evil when she saw it.
"You will leave this city..." Tanza stated, her voice steady. "Or I will remove you."
For a heartbeat, Capella's playful mask slipped, replaced by a dark, jagged frown.
She looked genuinely annoyed by the stoicism of the deer-child.
Then, she hid her mouth behind a hand and giggled.
"You'll remove me? You?"
Capella's laughter spiraled into a hysterical shriek.
"Gyahahahaha~!! Oh, you are just so adorable! This lovely lady has stumbled upon a real gem by accident! Meili-chan is so lonely after her sister died, but if that's how it is, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have a new friend join our happy little family~!"
Meili's pupils trembled, shrinking into pinpricks of pure terror.
Watching Tanza stand her ground was like watching a lamb walk into a slaughterhouse.
Inside, Meili screamed for her to run—to flee, to hide, to do anything but stay.
But such a thing was not in Tanza's nature.
Tanza stepped directly in front of the cowering Meili, her small frame becoming a shield.
She let out a short, controlled breath, centering her soul.
The memories of past failures—of the helplessness that had once defined her—flickered through her mind like dying embers. She would not fail a second time. She would not allow the person behind her to be torn away by the whims of a monster.
No matter the cost to her body or spirit, she would be the victor.
She would be the wall that did not break.
Capella tilted her head, her playful facade curdling into a guttural growl.
The absolute, unwavering concentration in Tanza's eyes was an insult to her.
To Capella, meat-scraps were supposed to scream and love her, not stare back with the eyes of a warrior.
It was infuriating.
"Fine then! Fine!"
Capella's back erupted.
A pair of bat-like wings tore through her skin, dripping with that disturbing purple blood.
Simultaneously, her arms began to swell and distort.
The bone and muscle groaned under the pressure of unnatural growth, her fists ballooning until they were wider than her entire torso—massive, pulsing clubs of meat and rage.
"This lovely lady will help knock some sense into you, meat-scrap! I'll grind those eyes of yours into a lovely paste!!"
———————————————————————
Natsuki Subaru stood within the cavernous interior of City Hall, his gaze locked onto Abel. He couldn't help but stare with furrowed brows; the sight of the man was nothing short of jarring.
Abel's injuries were drastic. He was paler than a ghost, draped in bandages from head to toe.
It was a genuine mystery how he was still upright, considering he lacked the superhuman physiology of the warriors surrounding them.
Perhaps it was simply the iron will of the Emperor, Vincent Vollachia, refusing to allow his body the luxury of collapse.
In that moment, Subaru couldn't feel anything but a begrudging respect.
"Unfurrow those brows, fool, 'lest you wish to invite premature wrinkles."
Abel stated plainly, his voice steady despite his state.
"Heh, that sounds awfully like you're actually worried——"
"——That was a commendable deed, Natsuki Subaru."
Abel cut him off, his bluntness acting like a physical wall.
"Survival against a First-Class Divine General like Arakiya is a feat only a handful of people can claim if she truly desires bloodshed, and victory against her is something only one person in the Empire can confidently achieve. In that regard... well done."
Subaru opened his mouth to retort, but found his lips pursed in surprise.
Compliments from Abel were rarer than water in a desert.
While a part of him was grateful, another part felt like a fraud.
He knew better than anyone that he wouldn't have lasted another ten seconds if his teacher hadn't arrived to turn the world upside down.
"...Yeah, well, don't expect a repeat performance. I'm not exactly itching to do that again, nor do I think I'd be able to get the same outcome...."
Subaru muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
Abel simply shrugged, a sharp movement that must have been painful.
"I am a firm believer that luck is a weapon in its own right. You achieved the ultimate victory today, regardless of whether you were the stronger combatant."
Subaru let out a long breath, deciding not to argue the point.
"Well... I'm guessing things on your end didn't go quite as 'perfectly' as you'd hoped?"
"There was... an unexpected variable, to say the least."
Subaru raised an eyebrow, but the answer didn't come from Abel. Instead, it came from the man slumped against the nearby wall——Zikr Osman.
The Second-Class General looked even worse than Abel, barely able to stay seated, let alone stand.
"A traitor to the Empire..."
Zikr spat, his voice thick with exhaustion and rage.
"A man who shall be executed the moment the opportunity arises. He concealed his appearance with a rag and relied on cunning and filth rather than power... yet, he is a great danger that stands in the way of reclaiming the throne."
Subaru pondered this for a moment, nodding slowly.
"I see. If he's not strong, then one mistake is all it takes to end him, but..."
He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Underestimating anyone in this nation was a one-way ticket for bad things to come.
He turned his attention to the two Shudraq warriors standing nearby.
"Holly, Kuna... you two look surprisingly unscathed. Neat."
"Yup~ all good! Though things were definitely getting a little hairy toward the end~" Holly hummed, her usual brightness intact.
"Mhm. The danger was... escalating fast, but we came out pretty well, at least." Kuna added with a stoic nod.
Abel's masked gaze shifted, landing on the unconscious, white-haired child lying flat on the cold floor.
"...And who, exactly, is this?"
"Ah... it's a bit hard to explain, but—"
"——That boy is a fool who seems to know no limits."
The voice belonged to Priscilla Barielle. she swept into the room with Aldebaran trailing in her shadow like a weary guard dog.
She scoffed as she looked down at the tiny, unconscious body of Gojo.
"I guess you're not wrong about that..."
Subaru said, turning to Abel.
"But that 'kid' is the teacher I told you about when we first met."
This time, even Abel was caught off guard. His brows furrowed visibly beneath the porcelain mask he wore.
"Your teacher... is a child? Unexpected but..."
"Oh. Uh, look, I know how it looks, but... no? Or——actually, I don't have an explanation for why he looks like this! Trust me, I was way more shocked than you when he showed up looking like he should be in a daycare!"
Priscilla looked as if she were weighing the merits of executing the child on the spot just for being an eyesore, while Abel stared at her, his expression uncharacteristically strained.
"Uaaa…?"
The soft, familiar trill made Subaru blink.
He looked down to find Louis Arneb clutching his hand with a grip that was surprisingly firm—almost desperate.
He offered her a small, weary smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'm fine, see? Just like I promised before. I'm a hard guy to get rid of, Louis."
He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of battle, but his focus was quickly diverted by the heavy atmosphere thick enough to choke on.
He looked toward the center of the room, where the air seemed to hum with an invisible current.
"But more importantly... can someone tell me what the hell is going on right now?"
Subaru's question went ignored, swallowed by the sheer pressure radiating from the center of the room.
Opposite one another stood Priscilla Barielle and Abel.
Neither had moved, yet the space between them felt like a psychological battlefield.
It was a silent, suffocating staredown—two souls who both believed the world revolved around them, neither willing to blink first.
Subaru felt like a man trapped between two colliding stars.
"So, you have taken the city. How... quaint."
Priscilla said, her voice dripping with the bored elegance of a goddess looking down at a child's sandcastle.
"You..."
Abel's tone remained flat, a mask of stone.
"——Prisca Benedict."
The name hung in the air like a forbidden spell. Priscilla gave a sharp, tiny snort as a response to hearing those words once more.
"Unfortunately for you, that name belongs to a ghost. Prisca Benedict was defeated in battle and died in vain. It makes no sense for the dead to speak from beyond the grave, does it?"
"And yet..." Abel countered, his sharp eyes narrowing behind his mask. "You are here. In the flesh. Standing beside me. But regardless of the... dead... who exactly do you claim to be now?"
The fire-haired woman merely smirked, her confidence as blinding as the sun she claimed to represent.
"Priscilla Barielle. That is mine name. You shall do well to remember it, Vincent Abellux."
Their gazes locked, the air between them crackling with the weight of shared history and mutual disdain.
"You have won a single battle, Vincent."
Priscilla continued, her voice taking on a dignified, chilling edge.
"But you have not won the war. This Empire is vast. The Divine Generals are many. And you... you are currently nothing more than a man reaching for a throne of ash."
Abel shook his head slowly.
"This is merely the beginning. You know that just as well as I do... Priscilla."
Subaru blinked as he watched the scene unfold, not really sure if he wanted to take the risk of getting involved.
The familiarity between them was undeniable—it wasn't just political; it was personal.
He was so engrossed in the royal drama that he hardly noticed Al approaching from the side until the man was practically at his elbow.
"Tense, right, bro?"
Al whispered, his voice hushed beneath his steel helmet.
"Heh..."
Subaru could only offer a slight smile of amusal.
He shook his head to clear the confusion, but as his eyes scanned the room, they landed on a pair of unfamiliar figures.
"But uh... who the heck are those people?"
Subaru's question finally punctured the suffocating silence between Abel and Priscilla.
Standing amidst the blood-stained Shudraq and several hollow-eyed soldiers were two blonde-haired individuals who looked as though they had wandered into the wrong story.
One was a tall man in flamboyant, traveler's garb, wearing a smile so pleasant it felt almost jarring against the backdrop of war—though it lacked even a hint of malice.
Beside him stood a woman even taller than he, her cream-colored hair catching the light. She looked formidable, with two swords sheathed at her waist and a lean physique built for battle.
"Ah! You noticed us!"
The man exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a half-jesting surrender.
"We... we are just humble servants of commerce! Please, spare us the execution today!"
Subaru blinked, thrown off by the sudden burst of cheer.
"Uh... okay? I'm not exactly the executioner type. Who are you guys?"
"My name is Flop O'Connell, and this is Medium, my reliable younger sister! We are traveling merchants currently navigating some rather... unfortunate professional circumstances."
"——Merchants?"
Subaru raised an eyebrow, scanning Medium's sheathed twin blades.
"In the middle of a siege? Armed like that?"
"Well... it's a dangerous world out there, Mr. Hero-san! A merchant must protect his wares—and his life! Mostly his life."
Flop explained with a breezy chuckle.
"We were hoping for a quiet exit, but we were quite unlucky. We ran into a rather rude gentleman before we could properly flee."
"Wait a second..."
Al suddenly interjected, his steel helmet tilting as he stepped forward.
"I recognize you two. You were the ones fighting with that one-eyed psycho down in the streets. I thought about dropping down to help, but the Princess wasn't exactly in the mood to slow the dragon down for a detour... sorry about that."
"Oh, don't worry about it! The thought is what counts!"
Flop waved a hand dismissively.
"But yes, that rude man! He seemed to think we were in his way for some reason, so he started swinging his swords around like a complete maniac!"
Medium nodded vigorously, her tall frame swaying with the movement.
"He kept shouting about 'honor' and 'execution' and all these boring things, so I just kept swinging until he wasn't in our way anymore and he ran!"
Subaru's expression shifted from confusion to genuine intrigue.
If Medium was telling the truth—and she didn't seem like the type to lie—then this "Merchant girl" was deceptively powerful.
Jamal was definitely far stronger than any normal person as he could face off and defeat two Elgina back to back and win; for her to shrug him off as a prickly fellow meant she was likely superhuman.
Beside him, Abel had gone quiet. He rested a gloved hand on his chin, his masked gaze narrowing as he calculated the value of these two new variables.
Medium, oblivious to the political gears turning in Abel's head, suddenly spotted the small figure close to Subaru.
She leaned over, her long shadow falling over the unconscious child.
"Ooh! Who's this?!"
She tilted her head, her eyes widening.
"He's so tiny! And so adorable!"
Subaru took a tentative step forward, his eyes lingering on the tiny, white-haired figure.
"Uhm... yeah. He's a... tiny bit more dangerous than he looks..."
Subaru muttered, a grimace flickering across his face.
"Speaking of which, I'm honestly not sure what we're going to do when he finally wakes up."
Abel's brows furrowed behind his mask, his sharp gaze shifting from the child to Subaru.
"By that, you mean to imply what, exactly?"
"Weeell... I was the one who knocked him out. I got lucky because that small form he's stuck in right now makes him weaker than usual, and I caught him completely off guard. But when those eyes open..."
Subaru couldn't ignore the pit forming in his stomach.
He felt the familiar, cold weight of a looming disaster.
They were currently housing two transcendent-level threats in the same building——both unconscious, and both likely to be incredibly annoyed upon waking.
As far as Subaru could remember from being around his teacher so much, the Gojo of the past didn't hate losing; he practically welcomed it as a chance for a good fight.
But that was the old Gojo——the one who truly knew who Subaru was and understood his place in the world.
This Gojo was different, until recently, he had never lost a fight before let alone be impossibly challenged——he was a prodigy among prodigies, the Honored One of the jujutsu world
Until recently, he had never tasted the bitterness of a true defeat. He had never even been truly challenged. He was a prodigy among prodigies, the "Honored One" of the jujutsu world, a man who stood above heaven and earth.
There had been no stalling against the Invincibility of Regulus Corneas.
There had been no desperate struggle against the Heavenly Sword of Reid Astrea.
He was far more arrogant, volatile, and right now, his only memories of losing were soaked in blood and grief of one of the only people he'd ever cared about.
The death of Suguru Geto. To this version of the teenager, losing a fight wasn't a lesson——it was a tragedy he refused to repeat.
The implication was terrifyingly obvious.
Then there was the second problem: Arakiya. Holly and Kuna were currently guarding her unconscious form in the adjacent room, but a Divine General wasn't someone you could simply keep behind a locked door.
"...But yeah, we seriously need to brainstorm an idea or two for this mess..."
Subaru said, turning toward the O'Connell siblings with a raised brow.
"Are you two in? We could use the extra perspective."
They seemed trustworthy enough—earnest in a way that was rare in the Empire, but not suspiciously so.
"Of course, Mr. Hero!"
Flop smiled, his eyes shining with a merchant's opportunistic kindness.
"I might not be a man of the blade, but I've traded ideas in every corner of this land! I'm sure I can contribute a thought or two to our collective survival."
Medium nodded vigorously, swinging her arm in a playful punch.
"I'm in too! If the little guy gets cranky, I'll help keep him busy!"
Subaru looked around the room as the group settled into a fragile, uneasy alliance.
There was Abel, the fallen Emperor draped in bandages.
Priscilla, the arrogant "Sun" who watched them all like insects.
Al, her weary and mysterious knight.
The fierce and loyal Shudraq pair.
And now, the O'Connells—merchants who were far more capable than they appeared.
It was a motley crew. A disaster waiting to happen. A collection of misfits and royals that shouldn't have been able to share the same air, let alone the same goal.
But as Subaru looked at them, he felt a flicker of hope.
It was a small light, but with this victory, it was finally beginning to outshine the lingering dread of the Vollachian Spirit——and the terrifying possibility that Cecilus Segmunt might appear at any moment and ruin everything.
Maybe... just maybe... we can actually pull this off?