The group eventually found themselves standing before a shimmering, invisible barrier that pulsed rhythmically in translucent waves, hovering just outside the entrance to the sanctuary. Though the air around them was unnaturally still, the presence of the barrier could be felt in the soft but constant hum it produced—a hum that vibrated faintly in their bones and seemed to pull at the mana that permeated the environment like moisture in the air. It felt alive, like the breath of something ancient and enduring. Just before parting with Ram, Frederica had handed Hikari a special pendant—a sapphire-blue necklace embedded with a radiant magical gem, glowing softly with contained power. It was one of the few, rare keys the sanctuary would recognize.
Hikari held the pendant between her fingers, her touch light but reverent. She ran her thumb along the gem's smooth surface, tracing the tiny runes etched into its setting. It radiated a calming warmth, the mana inside pulsing steadily, like a second heartbeat pressed against her chest. For a moment, she simply stared at it, the weight of what was to come pressing down on her shoulders. Then, inhaling deeply as though to steady the rising tension within her, she slowly slipped the necklace over her head, letting the stone settle against her collarbone. She lifted her gaze and turned toward Elsa and Beatrice, standing on either side of her like shadows of ice and fire. First, she reached out to take Beatrice's small, porcelain-like hand—fragile, yet emanating an undercurrent of power. Then, she extended her other hand toward Elsa, whose grip was cold but reassuring, steady and unflinching.
"Are you both ready?" she whispered, voice low but firm, threaded with both apprehension and fierce determination.
Neither of them spoke, but neither resisted as she took the first step.
The moment they crossed the threshold of the barrier, it was as if the entire world collapsed into a blinding, infinite white. Sight, sound, and sensation vanished, consumed by an overwhelming radiance that engulfed them in an instant. There was no pain, no warning—just a dazzling flash, brief as it was unbearable. And then, like the tide receding after a violent wave, the light withdrew, revealing a new, foreign space that felt untouched by time.
Hikari blinked rapidly, her eyes struggling to adjust. Her legs buckled slightly, and she stumbled back a step, her equilibrium shattered. A sharp breath caught in her lungs as a sudden jolt of dread coursed through her. She instinctively looked downward, and her heart lurched violently.
Beatrice lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving.
"Beako?!"
Her voice cracked with desperation, not loud enough to echo but heavy enough to crush. It was less a scream and more a plea, a raw tremor of fear escaping her throat. For a single, shattering heartbeat, everything around her stopped.
In front of her, Elsa stood upright, cradling an unconscious Subaru in her arms. Her posture was serene, composed. The rise and fall of her chest remained steady, her breathing controlled. There wasn't even the smallest trace of alarm on her face. She seemed... untouched.
Hikari dropped to her knees beside Beatrice without hesitation. Her fingers, trembling, reached for Beatrice's pale cheeks, brushing gently against skin that was far too cold. No flicker of response. Her other hand hovered uncertainly above the girl's chest, trying to sense something—anything. Mana, life, warmth... but there was nothing.
"What is this? Did the barrier drain her mana?" she asked, voice trembling, the words tangled in disbelief. She looked over her shoulder at Elsa. "Elsa-nee, do you feel anything strange? Any weakness? Your breathing, your mana's flow—has it changed?"
Elsa narrowed her eyes slightly, her expression sharpening into a moment of focus. After a beat, she shook her head calmly.
"Nothing's changed. I'm still myself. Whatever this is, it's not affecting me. But Beako... she's a spirit. Her entire existence is woven from mana. If it's being drained, even slightly, she'd be the first to suffer."
A strange ripple passed through the air, silent but unmistakable. The atmosphere shifted—an unseen wind rustled through the stillness, carrying with it a sudden, familiar warmth. It was like recognizing the scent of an old memory. Without any warning, a cloaked figure emerged a few meters away, stepping into view as if he'd always been there.
Flugel.
"Yo! Hikari, long time no see! Missed me yet?" His tone was bright, lighthearted as ever, but there was a subtle edge beneath it, a teasing note of something unreadable.
Hikari turned, her eyes softening at the sight of him. Despite the tension, her lips twitched in something close to relief.
"Flugel-nii... Yeah, maybe a little. But this isn't exactly the best time for reunions. Beako's not waking up. Did that barrier do this to her?"
He chuckled softly, raising a brow as he stepped closer. His footsteps made no sound. With the grace of someone who knew the weight of his actions, he knelt beside Beatrice and lifted her gently into his arms. His movements were full of care, like a parent cradling their sleeping child.
"This barrier," he said quietly, eyes glinting with hidden knowledge, "it's more than just a defense mechanism. It's a predator. It feeds off mana—siphons it from anything that passes through it. That's how it's endured for generations, possibly longer. Spirits like Betty, whose form and consciousness are entirely constructed from mana, suffer the most."
Hikari's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "But why? What purpose does that serve? Who would make something that strips away life force just to protect a sanctuary? To keep people out? Spirits? What kind of logic is that?"
Flugel tilted his head, considering her words before answering.
"It's not just about keeping intruders out," he replied. "It's a form of selection. A trial. Only those who meet very specific criteria can pass through unscathed. And that pendant you're wearing," he gestured toward the sapphire gem nestled against her chest, "is one of the keys. Without it, your body would be just as drained as hers. Maybe not to the same degree, but enough to make moving forward impossible."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly.
"This place doesn't welcome everyone. It tests you. And only the prepared survive the crossing."
Silence fell again, thick with implication. The sanctuary was not just a refuge. It was a gate. And only the chosen could endure its cost.
A heavy silence fell over the path, thick with the weight of uncertainty and exhaustion.
Then, without turning his head, Flugel shifted his gaze toward Elsa. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, came to rest on Subaru's limp and battered body in her arms. For a moment, he said nothing. But then, a thin, ambiguous smile curled across his lips, as though he found some quiet amusement in the scene.
"I hope he's not too heavy," he murmured, his voice silky and edged with something unreadable—half jest, half challenge.
Elsa let out a soft breath through her nose. Her arms tightened subtly around Subaru as she lowered her head in a nod, expression stoic.
"It's fine. I can carry him until we reach somewhere safe, Flugel. No need to worry."
Flugel gave no verbal response, only nodded faintly. With Beatrice nestled securely in his arms, he took the lead, his long dark cloak billowing gently with each step. The hem trailed behind him, stirring faint clouds of dust along the worn path. He spoke over his shoulder without looking back:
"Then let's not waste time. Come. Let's find out what sort of mood Ryuzu woke up in today."
Hikari raised an eyebrow and glanced at Elsa. Elsa met her gaze with equal confusion. The name 'Ryuzu' meant nothing to them—but by now, they had grown accustomed to Flugel's strange, often contextless remarks. Every word he spoke carried the weight of hidden meaning, every action an unspoken rationale. But strangely, the more they traveled with him, the less unnerving his eccentricities became.
Hikari shrugged, lips twitching upward in resignation. Elsa adjusted Subaru in her arms, ensuring his head was supported. With unspoken agreement, the two women exchanged a nod and began trailing after Flugel, their steps slow but steady.
The walk wasn't long, but every minute felt stretched by silence and thought. Eventually, they arrived at a modest, two-story stone house nestled at the edge of the settlement—a temporary home reserved for the Emilia faction. From the outside, it seemed unassuming: ivy-covered walls, a slanted wooden roof, a garden left just slightly overgrown. But as they drew closer, both Elsa and Hikari could sense it—an ambient hum of mana, like faint strings vibrating in the air.
Intricate protective enchantments laced the house, their glow just visible in the fading light. Thin, glowing etchings curled like ivy over the stone walls, pulsing softly, proof of an old and powerful magic still alive within the structure.
Without a word, Flugel adjusted his grip on Beatrice and sprang into the air. His feet barely left a whisper behind as he soared in a perfect arc toward the second-floor window. The movement was effortless, fluid—as if his body answered not to gravity, but to wind and will alone.
"I'm going ahead," he called out, turning just enough to flash them a crooked grin.
"You know me—I'm not fond of small talk."
He gave a low, amused chuckle, and with a flick of his fingers, he opened the window so silently it may as well have opened for him. Then, in a blink, he was gone—swallowed by the interior, leaving only a drifting breeze and a tingling aftertaste of strange, residual energy in the air.
Hikari exhaled deeply, dragging her hand across her forehead in exasperation. Her voice was little more than a muttered whisper:
"Why do my big brothers always have to be so theatrical?"
Elsa let out a soft snort. Neither of them slowed.
Reaching the entrance, Hikari hesitated for just a moment, then raised her hand and knocked softly. Her fingers lingered on the door's worn surface, and for the first time in a while, she felt a flutter in her chest—not fear, but cautious anticipation. Who would greet them? What awaited inside?
After a pause, the door creaked open to reveal a petite figure. An elf—short, pink-haired, and dressed in layered robes that swept across the wooden floor. Half her face was obscured by the drape of her garments, but her eyes gleamed with vitality that defied her age. There was a serenity to her presence, a stillness that softened the air around her.
Tilting her head, the elf regarded Hikari with quiet curiosity.
"I'm from the Emilia faction," Hikari began, placing a hand to her chest and bowing with formal grace. "Lord Roswaal left us behind. Our arrival was delayed. Apologies for the disruption."
The elf—Ryuzu—narrowed her eyes slightly. Then, a gentle smile tugged at her lips.
"Yes, I was informed you would be arriving, Hikari-chan. Lady Emilia sent word ahead. You're welcome here. Please, come inside."
She paused, her expression shifting subtly toward playful admonishment. "And if you would kindly tell the gentleman who entered through my window that his method of entry was... somewhat inappropriate, I'd be grateful."
Hikari winced with a sheepish smile, bowing again.
"Ah... I sincerely apologize for that. I'll talk to him."
Ryuzu laughed softly and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. "It's alright. Young people often act on impulse. That's part of what makes youth so radiant, after all."
Elsa and Hikari crossed the threshold. Inside, the house radiated a warm, gentle stillness. The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet, and the earthy scent of old wood and dried herbs filled the air. Lanterns glowed dimly in alcoves, casting golden halos across the walls.
The interior was modest but lovingly maintained. Every corner had purpose. The furnishings were simple—wooden chairs, woven mats, shelves of scrolls and dried flowers—but together, they created a sense of home. It felt safe.
Elsa shifted Subaru in her arms and turned to Ryuzu.
"Is there a room I could use to let him rest?"
Ryuzu nodded thoughtfully. "Second floor, down the hall to the right. The room with the east-facing window."
Elsa followed her directions, feet moving quietly up the stairs. The house was hushed, as if holding its breath. She reached the room and pushed the door open gently.
Inside, Beatrice lay sleeping on the edge of the bed, her small form curled up like a child. Moonlight spilled in through the window, illuminating her face with pale silver. The room was otherwise empty. Flugel was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished—likely faded into air, again leaving behind only questions.
Elsa stepped in, crossing to the bed. She knelt and gently laid Subaru down, adjusting his position with care. Her eyes lingered on his face. He looked peaceful now. But only she knew the toll this peace had cost.
Elsa carefully carried Subaru and gently laid him down on the bed beside Beatrice, adjusting his arms so he would rest more comfortably. The boy's face, pale and worn from exhaustion, twitched slightly as if still lost in a dream. Elsa's eyes lingered on him for a moment—there was something unfamiliar in her expression. A softness not typical of the assassin. Then, wordlessly, she turned away and walked toward the window.
She paused for a moment before unlatching it. A gust of night air rushed in, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant trees. Elsa closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then leapt through the opening, vanishing into the dark below. Her intent was clear: find Meili and assess the situation outside. Her eyes had gleamed with something resolute—a strange mixture of protectiveness and determination.
Meanwhile, inside a quiet room bathed in the soft glow of lanternlight, Hikari sat across from Ryuzu at a small, aged tea table. The table was modest, its wood worn smooth by time. Two delicate porcelain cups rested atop it, filled with freshly brewed herbal tea. The fragrant steam curled gently through the air, calming nerves frayed by recent events. After the chaos that had surrounded their arrival, this tea served as a much-needed moment of reprieve.
"So, Ryuzu-san," Hikari began, cradling the warm cup between her hands as if drawing strength from it, "where exactly are Roswaal-sama and Emilia-sama right now? And... you said Rem-nee and Ram-nee are asleep upstairs? We've only just arrived, but it feels like we've stepped into the middle of something far bigger. I need to understand what's really happening. Please, explain everything."
Ryuzu's expression softened as she took a sip from her cup and allowed herself a moment of thought. Her eyes closed briefly, as though gathering strength from within. Then, with a slow and steady nod, she began to speak:
"Emilia-sama must undergo the trials of the Witch's Tomb. These trials are not optional—they are the key to breaking the barrier that traps everyone within the Sanctuary. Without her success, the people here will remain imprisoned indefinitely. Roswaal-sama is well aware of this... which is why he has encouraged her to face the trials. In fact, one could argue he's forced her hand. As we speak, he and Emilia-sama are at the tomb. She's preparing to take the first trial—one that demands she confront her past."
Hikari's brows drew together in concern. She bit her lower lip, struggling to make sense of it all. "But we just arrived. Barely a full day has passed... and Roswaal's already sending her into something so dangerous? Why the rush? Isn't that reckless?"
Ryuzu tilted her head slightly, choosing her words with care. Her voice remained calm, but it carried the weight of experience.
"You're very perceptive, Hikari-chan. The urgency you sense is not misplaced. The Sanctuary is on the brink of a crisis. Supplies are dwindling. They've been cut off from the outside world for too long. The barrier doesn't simply block passage—it destroys any who try to cross it with demi-human blood. Many of the residents here are demi-humans or of mixed lineage. They cannot leave. And now, with the arrival of villagers from Arlam, the strain has only increased. More mouths to feed. Fewer resources. Emilia-sama is their only hope."
Hikari lowered her gaze to the tea swirling in her cup. Her thoughts were just as chaotic, spinning around each other with mounting confusion. The gravity of the situation was beginning to settle into her chest.
"So..." she murmured, her voice quiet and laced with worry, "before the villagers came, the demi-humans could just barely manage. But now that they're sharing space and supplies with outsiders, everything's stretched thin. It was inevitable—scarcity. No one really prepared for what might happen if they mixed two struggling groups together."
Her words were met with a moment of silence—thick, heavy, and thoughtful. Ryuzu simply watched her, allowing the girl space to process the weight of her own realization.
Hikari looked up again, her eyes earnest. "How long do the trials usually last? Can Emilia-nee complete them quickly? Or is it... is it impossible to predict?"
Ryuzu took another sip of tea, then exhaled softly. The lines on her face deepened as she spoke.
"There's no clear answer to that. The trials are as much a reflection of the soul as they are challenges. The first trial shows the past, dredging up regrets and pain long buried. The second forces one to confront their present self—strengths and flaws alike. And the third... the third gives a glimpse into a possible future. Each trial pulls the challenger into a deeply personal journey. And such journeys do not follow clocks or calendars. For some, a trial might last minutes. For others... days, weeks, longer. Time within the trials flows differently. The mind shapes it."
Hikari bowed her head, her shoulders trembling slightly as she wrapped both hands around the teacup for warmth. Her thoughts turned inward. Emilia's smiling face floated into her mind's eye, bright and brave and fragile all at once.
"Emilia-nee... please," she whispered in her thoughts. "Please come back to us soon."
But the quiet hope in her heart began to falter, overtaken by a slow, creeping dread. A terrible thought rooted itself inside her—what if Emilia couldn't make it? What if the tomb swallowed her whole, leaving only memories behind?
That silent prayer... was already beginning to rot into the shape of a nightmare.
The front door exploded open with a thunderous crash, the hinges shrieking in protest as the wooden frame buckled slightly under the force. The sound split the air like a crack of lightning, shattering the stillness that had wrapped itself around Ryuzu's modest home. The walls, once silent and unassuming, groaned faintly as if startled awake. A sudden gust of cold air surged in with the intruder, carrying with it a presence that was anything but welcome.
Hikari's head snapped up instantly, her instincts reacting before thought had time to form. Her body stiffened, her heart thudding once—twice—before slamming into a higher gear. Her eyes locked onto the doorway, where chaos had just barged into peace. In that suspended heartbeat of confusion, she saw him—a figure both wild and brash. Blond hair, wild and unkempt like a lion's mane, and across his forehead, a harsh X-shaped scar that looked more like a brand than an injury.
The young man stomped into the room with the unrestrained swagger of someone who thought himself untouchable. Draped over his shoulder like discarded cloth was Emilia—her body limp, unconscious. And then, without hesitation or care, he flung her to the ground.
Emilia's body struck the floor with a sickening, echoing thud. The sound punched the air from the room—and from Hikari's lungs. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. The sight twisted something deep within her.
Emilia lay crumpled and fragile on the cold floor. Her pale face was blotchy, the trails of tears still wet on her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered faintly, lips tinged blue from cold and exhaustion. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, barely audible. Her dress was tattered, stained with dirt and blood. Her silver hair was matted, clinging to her forehead and neck. There was no trace of the regal bearing she usually carried—only raw suffering.
And the one responsible for tossing her like garbage stood unrepentant.
Hikari's expression darkened. Her jaw tightened, lips pressed into a firm, thin line. She rose slowly, the air around her chilling by degrees. There was no anger in her voice—only a cold, deliberate stillness. The silence before a storm.
She walked forward with the deliberate calm of someone who knew exactly how dangerous stillness could be. Her eyes, narrowed and sharpened, locked onto the intruder with a predator's focus.
"You might want to try showing a little more care," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper—but every syllable landed like a blade. "Did nobody ever teach you how to treat a woman? Especially one who's unconscious? Or is cruelty the only language you know?"
The blond youth turned his head slowly, amused, like a beast catching a whiff of a challenge. He grinned—a wide, feral grin that showed off too many teeth, his expression twisted in manic pride.
"HA! Who the hell are you supposed to be? You think you can talk to me like that? Me?! If you're whining over that half-devil on the floor, let me save you the trouble—she failed. First damn trial. Crumbled like a child. Screamed, cried, begged. Disgraceful. Pathetic. Not worth the spit on my boot."
Hikari didn't flinch. But a small tick in her brow betrayed the fury slowly building behind her eyes. She inhaled deeply—calm, deliberate—anchoring herself before speaking again.
"My name is Hikari. Natsuki Subaru's sister," she said evenly. "And if you continue running your mouth, I'll have no choice but to weigh your worth with the same precision."
The boy—Garfiel—burst into laughter. It wasn't humorous. It was brash and sharp, a bark that echoed against the walls.
"Natsuki Subaru? Never heard of 'im! Some nobody, probably! Whoever he is, he can't hold a candle to me! I'm the strongest one here in Sanctuary! No one touches me."
Hikari didn't blink. Her voice remained steady, unimpressed.
"For someone so strong, you sure sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum," she muttered. Then, with a slight raise of her eyebrow, she added, "You know, for all your barking, I've already figured you out. Mister... flea pouch."
That hit.
Garfiel's entire demeanor shifted. His grin twitched, jaw locking, and he hissed through clenched teeth like an agitated beast.
"Tch. I ain't no flea pouch! I'm GARFIEL! I break bones, I tear through steel, I make monsters piss themselves!"
He stepped forward, claws flexing, muscles twitching with barely contained aggression. But instead of backing away, Hikari simply crossed her arms.
"Ah, yes. Garfiel. That does ring a bell now," she said dryly. "You're that loud one Roswaal warned us about, right? Must be exhausting, trying to fill a room with your voice when you clearly have nothing else to offer."
Garfiel snarled. "You got a sharp tongue. Guts too. Not bad. You're the second person to talk to me like that... but guess what? I DON'T LIKE YOU."
"That makes two of us," Hikari replied with an icy smile. "And believe me, I'm an expert at forgetting people I don't like. You'll vanish from memory the moment I walk past you."
Garfiel's breathing deepened, his fists clenched at his sides. Power radiated off of him like heat—but Hikari remained calm. Steady. Focused.
She'd encountered dozens like him before: proud, loud, muscles for brains, driven by pain and confusion more than reason. But his power didn't frighten her. His rage didn't move her. She had seen what real threats looked like—and he wasn't it.
And so, without warning, she stepped forward.
As she passed him, she rammed her shoulder into his with enough force to shift his stance. She didn't pause. Didn't look back. Just kept walking.
Her steps were slow, deliberate, precise. She knelt by Emilia, her movements a stark contrast to Garfiel's recklessness. With tender care, she lifted the girl into her arms, cradling her as one would something sacred.
Turning on her heel, she walked toward the staircase. Toward the room where Subaru rested. Toward the heart of the storm that had yet to come.
From behind her, Garfiel's shout broke the silence once more:
"What the F*ck was THAT?!"
His voice ricocheted through the house, wild and uncertain. But Hikari gave him no reply.
She ascended the stairs without a word, carrying more than just Emilia's weight. In her chest, fury simmered, resolve hardened, and a deep worry gnawed quietly