Tanaka snapped back to reality.
"A smile suits you, Kazuki Tanaka. You should do it more often,"
Crusch's voice lingered in the air, but her words barely registered. His eyes were fixed on her, yet his gaze was hollow, unfocused—like a man staring through her rather than at her. A faint tremor ran through his fingers. Something was wrong, and it was plain for anyone to see.
When he tried to stand, his balance gave out. His knees buckled, and he stumbled forward, clutching at his head as a wave of vertigo struck. It felt as if the world had tilted violently, his sense of self unraveling.
"Tanaka-kun, are you okay?" Rem rushed to his side, her voice high with alarm as she caught hold of his arm.
"What's going on? Is this the aftermath of the taboo?" Crusch's sharp tone carried worry, her amber eyes narrowing as she assessed him.
Tanaka swallowed hard, his throat dry, his chest heaving as though the air itself resisted him.
What the hell just happened?
The answer struck with icy clarity.
He had died.
He died and went back in time.
But how? And why? His mind reeled.
Not only had time rewound, but judging by Crusch's words—spoken in the same cadence as before—it had been by mere minutes, at best. His "checkpoint" wasn't hours ago. It was right here. Right before his end.
Outside, muffled through the rumble of the carriage wheels, a shout rang out.
"Hey! Get out of the way!"
The words slammed into him like a spear. His brain froze, his heart plummeting. He knew those words. He knew what came after.
Darkness. Oblivion.
If that was true, then this… this was the last moment before their demise.
"We need to get out of this carriage!" Tanaka's voice cracked as he lurched upright, desperation bleeding through. "Right now!"
"Tanaka-Kun?" Rem's eyes widened, her grip tightening on his sleeve. "What has gotten into you all of a sudden—?"
"It's an enemy attack!"
Almost as if his words had summoned it, a tremendous crash thundered from up ahead. The carriages in front of them splintered apart, wood exploding into the air, horses and passengers alike being ripped away by a force neither seen nor understood. Screams cut short into silence. The metallic stench of blood seeped into the air.
Crusch immediately pushed forward, her emerald cloak snapping with the movement. Tanaka, heart pounding in his chest, stumbled after her to the front of their carriage.
And then they saw him.
A lone figure, standing amidst carnage. White hair. A white robe that fluttered faintly in the wind, unstained despite the gore that surrounded him. Corpses and shattered wheels littered the ground around him, but he remained untouched—as if the chaos bent around his existence.
Even now, none of them could understand what they were looking at.
But one thing was clear. The slaughter—the collapse of the convoy—was his doing.
Crusch's lips thinned, her gaze hard as steel. With so many of her knights already slaughtered, she would not falter.
"Run him over!" she commanded.
The driver obeyed without hesitation. The earth dragon roared, muscles straining, and the carriage surged forward at breakneck speed. The gap closed rapidly. In seconds, the man in white would be trampled beneath tons of scaled flesh and steel-shod wheels.
It should have been inevitable.
But instinct screamed otherwise.
Rem shouted sharply, grabbing both Tanaka and Crusch by the waist. With one mighty leap, she hurled them all sideways off the carriage. They hit the dirt hard—Rem biting her lip as pain flared through her body. She had no time to reach the driver.
And then, in the heartbeat after—
"I really wish they'd stop," a voice said lightly. "It hardly seems humane to run someone over when they've done nothing wrong."
The tone was casual, almost bored. The voice of someone commenting idly during a walk beneath the afternoon sun, utterly detached from the carnage that had just unfolded.
If not for the nightmare before them, Rem might have doubted her own eyes.
The dragon carriage had collided. Shattered. Scattered. Splintered wood, pulverized flesh, and blood rained across the dirt road. The earth dragon that had tried to trample the man lay grotesquely split in two, its insides steaming. The driver had been reduced to pulp, indistinguishable from the debris of his own vehicle.
And yet—
The man stood there.
At first glance, he looked utterly ordinary. Slim build. White hair that was neither long nor short. Clothes that could have belonged to anyone: a black shirt, black trousers, nothing remarkable. His features were plain, forgettable—the sort of man you could pass in a crowd and forget within seconds.
But that was the very horror of it.
Because Tanaka had watched. He had not blinked, not once.
The man had not moved. He hadn't raised a hand, hadn't lifted a finger, hadn't even shifted his weight.
He was simply standing there.
Menacingly...
And yet, the dragon and its carriage had been annihilated upon contact—as if reality itself had rejected their attempt to touch him.
"Thank you, Rem. You saved us. But... the situation hasn't improved."
Tanaka was down on his knees, the world still rolling around him. He kept one hand pressed to the side of his head, trying to anchor himself to the present.
Crusch—who had been steadied by Rem—straightened and drew her sword in a single, fluid motion. Her face was a mask of white-hot fury; the look of a commander who had just watched too many of her own be butchered because of someone else's whim. She swallowed once, the motion tight, and then let the question fall from her like a blade.
"You killed so many of my subordinates so brutally, and yet you still think you'll escape unscathed… Who exactly are you?"
She leveled the sword and pointed it at him with a voice that left no room for equivocation. The man regarded her, hand resting on his chin as if considering a trivial puzzle, then gave a faint, almost amused nod.
"I see. I see." His tone was light, conversational—an odd counterpoint to the slaughter behind him. "So you don't know me. That said, I do know you. Right now you're the talk of the capital—no, the whole country. A candidate to become king. It must feel… heavy. Even someone as ignorant as I can imagine the burden."
"You talk too much," Crusch snapped. "Answer my question and I'll cut you down next time."
"That's a terrible thing to say." He smiled as if remarking on poor table manners. "But perhaps you couldn't carry the weight of a country without being arrogant. I can't understand that sentiment—not that I deny the idea outright. I, for one, have no intention of behaving arrogantly." He spread his hands lightly, then tilted his head. "Unlike you."
The man's words slithered, but Crusch had no patience left, "—I said there won't be a next time." Her voice was cold as glacier water. She drew in the air with a motion honed by countless drills: wind-magic converged with steel, and a translucent blade of air sprang into life along her sword's arc.
The technique that had earned her the name "One Hundred Men, One Sword" sliced down in a single, breathtaking sweep—an ultra-range wind slash that had cleaved beasts and men alike. The invisible edge tore at the air, and for an instant all eyes watched it descend toward the man.
Then—nothing.
Where the slash should have met flesh or cloth, the man merely tilted his head and flicked a hand, as if brushing off an annoyance. He stepped aside and the wound that should have been there did not appear; there was no cut, no blood, no tear in fabric. The slash had severed the world around him yet left him immaculate.
For a beat, reality itself seemed to stutter. Crusch's breath hitched. Rem's knuckles went white on Tanaka's sleeve as a chill crawled up her spine. Tanaka—who until that moment had not blinked—felt that visceral, animal certainty: this was impossible.
"...What kind of education did you receive to attack someone while they were having a pleasant conversation?"
There was a man tilting his head and lightly shaking off the body that had been slashed.
"I'm the one doing the talking. I was talking, right? I think it's a bit wrong to interrupt that. Don't you think it's wrong? I don't want to assert the right to speak or anything like that, but even so, if someone is talking, isn't there a kind of unspoken understanding that we shouldn't interrupt them? It's up to you whether you want to listen seriously or not, so I don't complain, but I wonder if it's right to decide not to let me speak."
He planted his foot and the ground muttered under it, an almost imperceptible flourish of displeasure. Then he pointed—slowly—at the three of them, eyes narrowing into twin slits that suddenly felt far too focused.
As he spoke quickly, the man stomped his foot on the ground, making his displeasure clear. He then pointed his finger at the two, who had remained silent in the eerie atmosphere,
"Now, I wonder if that's okay. You're listening, aren't you? You asked, right? You asked, right? You asked a question. If you're asked, I answer, right? That's how it's supposed to be. But you don't do that either. You don't want to. Ah, freedom. That's your freedom, you know. From your perspective, it looks like I'm speaking on my own and being cut off, asking a question on my own and being ignored. That's how you use your freedom. Fine, go ahead. But, you know, that idea basically comes down to this, right?"
Leaning forward, the man tilted his head in that unnervingly casual way, his gaze sharpening until it felt like it was boring through their very bones. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, the kind of tone one might use to share a secret over tea.
"That means you're disregarding my rights—one of my few personal possessions… isn't it?"
A cold shiver stabbed down Tanaka's spine. Before his body could even process the instinct to move.
The man took a single, unhurried step forward. His limp arm rose as if swatting away dust, creating nothing more than a soft breeze.
And then the world split.
The air, the earth, the very fabric of reality screamed as a line tore across it.
Spinning through the air like a discarded doll—Crusch's left arm, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
Her sword arm still clutched the sheath, fingers rigid in death-grip as it hit the ground with a wet thud. Blood erupted in a crimson fountain, painting the dirt in violent arcs. Crusch herself was hurled back by the sheer force, crashing onto the earth where her body convulsed, spasming under the agony of the wound.
"Crusch-Sama—!"
For a heartbeat Rem froze, horror rooting her to the spot. Then instinct seized her, and she leapt toward the fallen woman.
"I got her."
Tanaka's voice cut through the chaos, firm despite the pallor in his face. Spirits shimmered faintly around him. He pressed both hands to the jagged wound, pouring every ounce of focus into stopping the blood that was gushing out.
"Feli...s...uh, ah, uh?"
He didn't know if the arm could even be reattached—but he couldn't leave Crusch's side, not with the white-haired monster still standing before them, all his focus was poured into stopping the bleeding.
And then—
"Ahhh, really… No matter how much I eat, it's never enough!"
The new voice was shrill and boyish, breaking into manic laughter that clawed at the ears. "Eat, eat, chew, nibble, devour! Bite, bite off, chew to pieces, chew, lick, slurp, suck, lick it all up! Drink, gorge, feast—Gluttony! Ahhh—thank you for the meal!"
The chill that followed was identical to the one already crushing them—cold, oppressive, drenched in malice.
Rem's blood ran cold as she slowly turned her head.
Amid the wreckage of dragon carriages stood a small figure drenched in blood. He laughed with his head thrown back, voice cracking with glee. His long, dark-brown hair cascaded in filthy tangles past his knees, framing a child's gaunt, scrawny body clothed in nothing more than rags. The exposed skin beneath was smeared in red, though none of it was his own.
He was a short boy with long, dark-brown hair that flowed down past his knees. He was about Rem's height, perhaps even shorter, and looked two or three years younger—no older than the children from the village near the mansion.
Rem's stomach twisted. They hadn't even felt the clash. While she, Tanaka and Crusch faced the white-haired man, the knights behind them had been erased in moments—consumed before she even noticed.
"You people are…" Her voice cracked, trembling, as she dragged Crusch closer and widened her stance, forcing herself to keep both horrors within her sight.
At her words, the man and the boy exchanged a glance. A grotesque understanding passed between them, and then—simultaneously—their lips curled into the same kind of smile. Intimate. Twisted. Devilish.
The man placed a hand over his chest and bowed faintly, voice dripping with arrogance."Witch Cult Sin Archbishop of Greed—Regulus Corneas."
The boy spread his arms wide like a child announcing a game, laughter bubbling between every word."Witch Cult Sin Archbishop of Gluttony—Lye Batenkaitos."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"We sensed our pet had been killed so we came to take a look, and lo and behold -- what a bumper crop! It's good, it's good, it's good, it's good, maybe it's good, sure, it's good, it's probably good! Obsession! Love! Hatred! Chivalry! There were all sorts of joys and sorrows! That's what makes it worth eating!"
The Witch's Cult - and the Archbishop of Sins.
Before Rem could freeze upon hearing those words, an excited boy――the person who called himself Lye Batenkaitos stomped his foot on the ground and let out a strange cry.
He spun around in a dance, pointing at the fallen knights with his arms, gazing lovingly at them.
"It's really nice, coming here to eat with your own hands like this. Especially recently we haven't had the chance to meet such courageous people with a strong will to eat, so for the first time in a while we feel our hunger being satisfied."
A sigh cut across his manic laughter. Regulus Corneas, arms folded behind his back, shook his head with an air of exasperated authority.
"That's something I'll never understand about you, Batenkaitos. You're not starving, nor is what you consume truly yours. Why can't you be content with who you are? A person can only possess what fits within their two arms, what they can hold in the palm of their hand. Anything beyond that is greed—selfish indulgence. Don't you think it's natural to restrain yourself?"
"We don't need preaching, and we hate it. I won't deny that what you say is wrong, but I'm not interested. Ah—really, we don't care about anything other than satisfying this hunger."
Gluttony Batenkaitos laughed maniacally, while Greed Regulus shrugged his shoulders in boredom.
Faced with the situation of two Sin Archbishops being in the same place at the same time, Rem tried to force her brain to stop working, trying to think of a way to somehow defuse the situation.
In terms of military strength, it's impossible to crush these two here.
On the one hand, there's Greed, who never shows any weaknesses in either offense or defense. Rumor has it that he has personally taken over an entire city in terms of fighting power, and his limits are unknown. On the other hand, there's Gluttony, whose otherworldliness is also bottomless. His fighting power is unknown, but he's a powerful man who has mowed down veteran knights in just a few dozen seconds.
Crusch's bleeding had been stopped, her condition remained critical. It was impossible to determine whether the knights were dead or injured, and they could not be counted as fighting forces.
They were cornered.
"Rem."
Tanaka's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. She turned, finding his face pale with exhaustion, yet his eyes were steady.
"Do you know who are the people that are in the back?"
Rem shook her head.
The people who had collapsed behind Batenkaitos became vague.
Right now, Rem couldn't understand their existence, or what their position was. Why were they lying there, who were they, or what their relationship was to them?
Her reaction summarized the magnitude of this situation.
"I feel really bad for asking this—knowing your condition…"
Felix explicitly said that she shouldn't exert herself anymore and just rest. A few hours ago, she couldn't even move, that's why she was exempted from joining Subaru to take down Sloth.
His gaze flicked toward the two Archbishops and then back to her. "Can you fight?"
There was no room for hesitation. No room for doubt.
Rem's hands tightened around her Morningstar, her trembling stilled, and her blue eyes hardened like polished steel.
"Yes," she said, her voice clear, sharp, unwavering.
Tanaka pushed himself upright with a grunt, every movement measured. He met her gaze with a tired steadiness. "Good. After what I'm about to do, I'll be unable to move for a few minutes."
The one with the white robe, the man who referred to himself as greed, is the biggest threat right now.
Tanaka's jaw set. "The spirits will support you while I recover. Hold on. Keep them off me until I'm back on my feet."
Rem's expression closed like a fist. Normally she would have protested—ordered him not to risk himself—but the situation left no room for caution. Their options had narrowed until they were little more than a razor's edge. All she could do was trust him.
Behind them, the boy—Lye Batenkaitos—shook his head in wild agreement, long hair whipping as he laughed, white teeth clicking like bones. His voice bubbled up, feverish and ecstatic.
"Love! Chivalry! Hatred! Tenacity! A sense of accomplishment! The satisfaction of having it stored up and stored up for a long, long time, simmering until it's boiling and simmering, and then going down your throat! Is there any gourmet food in this world that surpasses this!? There isn't, there isn't, there certainly isn't, it can't be, it can't be, it can't be, and it can't be, and it can't be! Binge drinking! Binge eating! So much! Our hearts, our stomachs, are trembling with joy and fullness."
His laughter rose and broke into a high, childish cackle that echoed off the shattered wood and armor.
Rem's jaw clenched. Regulus—calm, composed, almost bored—responded with bland condescension. He spread his arms as if presenting a trivial point in a salon rather than standing amid slaughter.
"I'm completely different from that guy over there, you know? The fact that I'm here is purely coincidental, not the result of any proactive action on my part. Of course. Unlike him, I don't have hunger or cravings, or any of those base selfish desires. Unlike that hungry guy who's constantly tormented by an insatiable hunger, you see, I'm infinitely satisfied with who I am now. Unfortunately since I'm here, I have to observe him."
With his arms outstretched, Regulus stood before Rem with a beaming face.
He swung his arms wide, capable of doing the same thing as cutting off Crusch's arm, and made a gesture that strongly indicated his presence.
"But rest assured, I don't like conflicts or anything like that. For me, if I can just enjoy normal, peaceful, and tranquil days, that's enough for me, I don't want anything more. Peaceful, safe, unchanged time and myself, that's the best. My hands are tiny and powerless. I'm a weak individual, and all I can do is protect my personal possessions."
Rem forced herself to stand, legs threatening to give beneath her. She gripped the iron ball of her Morningstar until knuckles blanched and called the last of her mana up; thin, sharp icicles hummed into being and hovered around her like a fragile crown of spears.
Tanaka eased Crusch onto the grass as gently as he could, laying her down with the practiced care of someone who kept watch over the dying. Her breath came shallow and ragged, but for now it steadied. The blue aura around Tanaka flared—light coalescing into dozens of spirits that shimmered like pale moths in a wind. The air tightened; every nerve in the clearing seemed to point at him.
Something in that change made the two intruders' faces flicker.
Regulus's tone grew thin with offended composure. "Did you hear me? I said I did not wish for this. If you act against that—if you prevent me from enjoying even this small, private comfort—then you are trampling on me. You are taking away my rights, my tiny possessions. No matter how selfless I claim to be, I will not forgive such a theft."
Tanaka lowered himself back down, cross-legged, answering with the kind of casual tone one might use at a café table."Ah, don't worry about that. She won't be attacking you, and neither will I. She'll handle the one behind us, and these spirits will help her. I'm the same as you, really—I hate conflict."
Regulus's features softened, his chest swelling with smug satisfaction."Yes, that's the way. Show respect, and you'll be given respect in turn. It's a simple truth, an obvious principle, and one that makes this world better."
Tanaka chuckled faintly, his voice light but his eyes carrying a strange gleam."Yes, I couldn't agree more. Also, you may not know this, but physically, I'm terribly weak… and after the little trouble we had taking down what you two called your 'pet,' I'm exhausted. So…" His body slumped slightly, as though giving in to weariness. "…I'll take a quick nap."
There was never going to be a fight—not in the traditional sense. His body had already been pushed past its limits in the battle with the White Whale. The knights lay scattered and broken. Crusch was half-conscious, missing an arm. By all rights, they had no strength left.
And yet—
The ground began to tremble.
At first it was subtle, like the shiver of a distant quake. Then it grew, a low rumble that set the trees shaking and sent dust trickling from the splintered carriages.
Regulus's smugness faltered. "Huh?"
Confusion knitted across his face. Nothing explained this sudden, violent motion. No audible incantation. Just pressure—immense, crushing pressure—radiating from Tanaka's still form.
The shaking intensified, the air itself vibrating as though it might split.
There would be no duel, no measured clash of blades or spells. What was coming was a one-sided annihilation.
Tanaka raised his bloodied hand and spoke through clenched teeth, his lips curling in a faint, defiant smile.
"So try not to make too much noise before you die."
His voice rang like a death sentence.
"Ice VII."
The words left his throat alongside a wet cough of blood.
No one understood—not until the light dimmed.
A shadow spread across the ground, blotting out the fractured sunlight. All heads turned upward. And then they saw it—
A mass of ice, vast beyond comprehension. Not a pillar, not even a mountain. A frozen meteorite, plummeting from the heavens, its surface glittering like a cold, merciless star.
The world seemed to hold its breath. Then Tanaka moved his hand in a simple downward gesture.
The ice mountain accelerated, crashing earthward with unstoppable force.
Impact.
The meteorite slammed into the highway, swallowing Regulus's figure in blinding brilliance. A deafening shockwave tore outward, scattering debris, and hurling shattered carriages like toys. The world itself seemed to recoil.
Rem's ears rang. Her vision blurred. The atmosphere stank of ozone and frozen mist.
Water magic and Fire magic were very simple elements.
both carried the incantation huma, with variations from Huma to Al Huma. She had wielded the most advanced form against the White Whale, pouring her strength into it until her body nearly gave out. She had seen Roswaal wield the same incantation, his version dwarfing hers in scope and terror.
The difference lied in talent.
But this—this was something else entirely.
Even compared to her lord, compared to the great spirit Puck, Rem had never witnessed or even heard of magic that could scar the sky itself.
Was this even the same spell?
The situation had been hopeless—cornered by two Sin Archbishops, Crusch bleeding out, the knights massacred.
But because of Tanaka, there was a chance. A slim, fleeting chance that survival wasn't just a fantasy.
"Wow, Tanaka-Sama…" Batenkaitos clapped his hands like an excited child, bending forward at the waist. His long tongue lolled from his mouth as he peered at Tanaka's collapsing figure, drained from the spell he had unleashed. "You're even more impressive than we imagined. With so much faith gathered around you… ah, you must be a delicacy. We can't wait to taste it!"
His eyes didn't see an enemy. They didn't even see a human being. They glowed with the hunger of a starved ghost salivating over its next meal.
Behind him, Rem's horn burst forth, white and gleaming, flooding her body with the surrounding mana. The surge coursed through her veins, steadying her breath and hardening her resolve. Her hands gripped the Morningstar until the chain groaned, and icicles shimmered in the air, waiting for her command.
A couple of minutes, she told herself. That's all he asked for.
She didn't need to win—just to hold the line until Tanaka recovered. If she could do that, then together, they might stand a chance.
Her arm lifted, the iron ball glinting cold in the fractured light. At the same time, a volley of icicles streaked forward, and Rem herself launched into the air, body exploding with momentum.
Batenkaitos' jaw unhinged, mouth gaping wide, rows of canine fangs snapping."Ohhh, that's good spirit—then here you go!"
They clashed—steel, fang, frost, and shrieking laughter.
Half the spirits rallied to Rem, weaving thin shields and cloaks of mana to soften Gluttony's assaults. The rest circled Tanaka, pouring what little strength remained into him, stitching together his ebbing mana, urging him back to his feet.
Dozens of spirits had maintained their strength after the White Whale, and though battered, their aid was enough to let him stir again. Slowly, agonizingly, he rose. Enough to stand. Enough to matter.
But then—something happened that he had not expected.
The ice meteorite that had swallowed Regulus remained lodged in the earth like a frozen monument. Its surface glistened with otherworldly density, a weight so absolute it seemed impossible anything within could have survived.
And yet—
Crack.
"Tanaka-Kun!" Rem cried out, but her voice faltered the moment Batenkaitos lunged at her.
He had been waiting for the slightest falter in her rhythm, the briefest tilt of her gaze toward Tanaka. His grin widened when it came.
His claws slashed upward, forcing Rem to twist her body mid-swing and slamming into the ground.
It was in that instant the ice meteorite cracked.
Crk—crrk.
Lines spread across the frozen boulder.
Shards exploded outward—thousands of jagged spears howling through the air. Spirits darted to protect Tanaka, weaving walls of mana in desperation, but the first shard still slipped through, driving itself into his abdomen.
"Gh—!"
The world tilted. His breath caught as he looked down—at the jagged edge jutting from his stomach, blood pouring out in torrents. His body wasn't pierced cleanly; it was hollowed. A raw, gaping hole opened inside him, and he felt it—felt the absence, a tearing void.
His knees buckled. His vision darkened.
Through the ringing in his ears, through the blur of agony, he heard it—clear, composed, and unbearably calm:
"And here I thought you were a reasonable person, just another barbaric lunatic..."
Regulus's voice. Untouched. Alive.
The rest of the shards struck almost as one, an unrelenting volley. His shoulder burst apart with a crunch. His thigh split open, nearly collapsing under him. Splinters carved across his face, his chest, his side—tearing flesh, shattering bone.
By the time the barrage ended, Tanaka's body was riddled, a grotesque lattice of wounds. More of him was gone than left.
The last spark of strength drained from him. His body toppled, blood spilling freely into the dirt, pooling beneath him. The spirits' lights dimmed one by one, vanishing into the air like dying fireflies.
Kazuki Tanaka was dead.