Natsuki Subaru's “Hell”

As Subaru sprinted at full speed, his breath sharp and rhythmic, Flugel drifted just ahead with an effortless, ghost-like grace. The chill of the night wrapped around them like an invisible cloak, brushing across their skin and stinging slightly at every exposed inch. Above, the stars stared down—silent, cold, and ancient—bearing witness to the momentum of two souls running not only through space but through the threads of fate itself. The sky stretched wide and endless, a velvet tapestry soaked in navy and black, glittering with pinpricks of long-dead light. Their cloaks snapped like banners in the wind, turning their dash into something that felt less like escape and more like prophecy unfolding.

But while the heavens observed in serene stillness, one of them found no comfort in such calm.

"Are you going to help Karsten with the White Whale battle?" Flugel's voice knifed through the wind—calm yet edged, like a blade sheathed in silk. Each syllable held calculation, as if he were dissecting Subaru's intentions even before they were fully formed.

Subaru's steps didn't falter, but his mind drifted. His gaze, caught by the horizon, shimmered with doubt. He exhaled slowly, and the sound of it was like something crumbling—weighted not just by fatigue, but by indecision, by memories that clawed at him from every corner of his fractured past. Each return brought pain. Each loop demanded sacrifice.

"I don't know," he admitted, voice low, nearly lost to the wind. "But maybe it's a smart move. If I help her, she'll owe me—her trust, her loyalty. That might mean something later."

Flugel responded with a short, barking laugh that seemed to vibrate through the leaves of the trees surrounding them. "Ah, so acting like Russell is fun." he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into something between amusement and disdain.

"Guess I'm starting to understand why people call him a manipulator," Subaru replied, chuckling under his breath, though the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. "Still, maybe there's a lesson in it."

Their pace never slowed. The world around them blurred, trees whisking by like phantoms, the dirt beneath their feet scattering in the wake of their passage. Subaru glanced upward once more. The stars were beautiful—unreachable. They reminded him of regrets. Of hopes he'd abandoned. Of people he couldn't save.

"Flugel..." he began again, this time his voice subdued, thoughtful. "What day is it?"

Flugel tilted his head, casting a fleeting look Subaru's way before raising his eyes back to the sky. "By the world calendar? It's March 29st. Lagunica's calendar has always bored me. Too ceremonial."

Subaru gave a soft grunt, a half-hearted noise filled with reflection. "It's our birthday in three days... yours and mine. Do you remember?"

That stopped something—if not their feet, then at least the current between them. Even the wind seemed to hush for a moment. Flugel's brow furrowed, a rare hesitation in his usually inscrutable expression.

"Is it now? Hah. I must've forgotten that for a few centuries," he said with a dry laugh, though there was an edge of uncertainty in it.

"How do you forget your own birthday, you damn sage?" Subaru snapped back, the complaint sharp but not truly angry. Underneath, it trembled with a quiet ache—a longing to be remembered. To matter.

Flugel shrugged without apology. "I've had more pressing matters to think about."

"Right," Subaru muttered. "You were probably floating through some existential void, getting into debates with nebulas."

The air grew still again—but not with peace. Something else had taken hold.

Flugel halted mid-step.

The motion was so sudden, so jarring, that Subaru almost crashed into him. The sage's eyes were narrow, darting across the unseen. His aura surged, glowing faintly like ripples in a disturbed pond. For a moment, his body didn't seem fully grounded—like his spirit was tethered to a different plane, as if something were pulling at him from across realities.

Subaru's instincts screamed. That kind of posture only meant one thing.

"What are you doing, you knockoff sage?" he asked, forcing lightness into his voice, but his chest tightened with something deeper than confusion. It was dread. Familiar. Clawing.

Flugel didn't answer immediately. His head slowly turned, and his eyes glinted with something darker. "Something's coming," he said finally, and just as he opened his mouth to continue—

He stopped.

No time for a warning.

From the depth of the shadows around them, the night tore open.

Something monstrous burst forth. It didn't make a sound. It didn't have to. The pressure it released was enough to paralyze the air. A form, both formless and impossibly solid, lunged from the darkness—

—and the chase turned into a battlefield.

The shadows shattered in an instant, tearing apart like brittle paper under invisible claws.

Subaru's reflexes kicked in a heartbeat too late.

A silhouette surged toward him from the opposite direction—faster than thought, fiercer than any beast—and slammed a vicious kick straight into his chest.

"UGH!"

The impact landed with crushing force, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending a torrent of blood spraying from his mouth. His instincts hadn't just failed him—they had betrayed him. Pain exploded through his ribcage. He felt bones crack, internal organs twist. His body was flung backward and struck the ground like a meteor. Earth split beneath him, and for a moment, even the heavens above seemed to reel.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!"

Every cough sent a spray of red onto the ground. His throat was ablaze, his lungs clenched in spasms. He couldn't breathe without tasting iron and agony. The diaphragm in his gut seized with every effort to draw air. Each breath felt like hauling himself up from the depths of a black ocean—fleeting victories snatched from drowning.

Flugel appeared at his side in a flicker of motion, bending low without a word. The usual mischievous twinkle in his eyes was gone, replaced by a grim edge sharpened by tension and fear.

"We have a problem. Enemy contact. You have to move. Now."

Subaru spat blood onto the cracked earth, his eyes narrowed into the surrounding void. The darkness had teeth, and it was already biting. "You think I don't know that?" he growled, his voice raw and torn.

He planted one knee into the soil and forced his weight onto it. Lightning bolts of pain shot through his joints. Everything hurt—everything—but he didn't stop. He couldn't. This world had brought him to his knees more times than he could count. But every time, he'd found a way to rise.

His vision swam, blotched with gray and red, but then—a voice. Familiar. Hated. Poisonous.

"ENVY! I'VE RETURNED FOR VENGEANCE!"

That voice didn't just echo in his ears. It stabbed through his memory like a dagger.

That vile pitch. That self-satisfied scream. That voice belonged to a nightmare he thought he'd already ended.

Lucas Veilhart.

Archbishop of Pride.

The name that had haunted his journey to Kararagi. The enemy he'd gritted his teeth against, battled with every ounce of strength, and finally brought to ruin.

Or so he thought.

Now, the bastard stood once more—unchanged in name, but altered in every other way. His presence was heavier, his aura darker, his madness more refined. Lucas had returned—but not as the same man. He was stronger. Harsher. Bathed in a cruelty Subaru could feel from meters away.

Subaru's heart raced—but not with fear. No, it was fury. Pure and seething. His hands clenched into trembling fists. A bitter, almost mocking smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"You've got some nerve showing up again..."

Mana flared from the core of his being, like magma forcing its way through cracks in a volcano. It poured through his limbs, easing the sharpest edges of his wounds. The pain in his chest dimmed to a tolerable throb. He could breathe again—not freely, but enough. Enough to stay on his feet. Enough to fight.

Each breath still stung, each movement sent aftershocks through his nerves, but with that pain came clarity. Focus. Resolve.

He forced himself upright. His legs trembled like branches in a storm, but his spine was straight, unbending. His eyes locked onto the figure ahead—Lucas—who stood as if sculpted from shadow and arrogance.

There was no fear in Subaru's eyes.

Only fury.

Only fire.

Lucas's presence burned with twisted grandeur—his cloak billowing in an unseen wind, his smile sharp as glass. His eyes gleamed with icy superiority, the kind that saw people as tools or trophies.

"Came all this way just to get beaten again?" Subaru asked, his voice a low rasp scraped raw from within. Dry lips cracked as he spoke, but his tone carried the weight of steel. "Or are you just that desperate to lose in front of an audience? What's your angle this time?"

Lucas stood unmoving, like a monument to ego. His expression didn't flicker.

"I've walked through fire and torment for this moment," he said, every word laced with solemn pride. "I've rebuilt myself from the ashes of defeat. This time, there will be no mistake. Once you're out of my way, the half-elf and the saint are mine. You can't protect them. Not from me."

A fire ignited within Subaru—wild, relentless, and scorching as if it had been waiting to be unleashed for ages. The words Lucas had uttered weren't just heard—they raced through him, tearing down any walls of restraint left in his heart. They surged like a tidal wave, no, like a storm of mana itself burning through his bloodstream. Each syllable felt like a nail being hammered into his resolve. His heart pounded violently in his chest, like a war drum counting down to something cataclysmic. Every beat echoed louder than the last. This wasn't panic—this was fury.

"Emilia and Hikari..." he murmured, his voice thick with rage. It shook in his throat as if it could no longer contain the storm. "You're going to take them? You think you can just—?!"

Lucas's smirk twisted into something grotesque. His smile stretched unnaturally, filled with glee that didn't belong on any human face. "That's right! In fact, there's a good chance they've already been captured while we talk. I'm not the only one sent to this place, Subaru. We operate together. Perfect harmony. Perfect devastation. This... this is merely the overture."

Darkness seemed to descend, not from above—but from within Subaru himself. His fists tightened so violently that blood began to run down his hands in rivulets. The nails tore into flesh, into the pain—and the pain fed the rage. He could feel the crack of bone grinding against pressure, but it didn't matter. He wanted to scream. He wanted to burn the air itself.

Lucas leaned forward, savoring every flicker of agony in Subaru's eyes. There was no mistaking it—he was enjoying this. "WHEN THEY'RE IN OUR HANDS, I PROMISE I'LL SHOW THEM NOTHING BUT ATTENTION. YOUR LITTLE SISTER. YOUR PRECIOUS GIRL. OR—MAYBE I'LL LET YOU WATCH. FRONT ROW SEAT. HAHAHAHA! CAN YOU IMAGINE THEIR SCREAMS? I CAN."

Something snapped.

Subaru's vision tunneled into black. No light, no sound. Time itself fractured in that moment. Even the beat of his heart ceased—as if the universe recoiled with him. All that remained was the heavy, suffocating mana thickening like mist in the void. It wasn't rage anymore. It was pure, distilled wrath.

His lips barely moved, yet the word cut like a blade across reality:

"PRIDE."

And he vanished.

No wind. No sound. One moment he was standing—then he wasn't. The shadows absorbed him like a command obeyed instantly. Duskveil erupted into his hands, materializing like a cursed answer to his fury. The twin daggers pulsed with a darkness so dense it bent the surrounding air. They weren't just weapons—they were complicit in his vengeance.

[Advanced Dagger Technique - Active]

[Phantom Drift - Active]

[Fade - Active]

[Mana Blade - Active]

[Shadow Blades - Active]

[Half-Heat Half-Cold - Active]

All of them. Activated.

The ground beneath Subaru cracked under the pressure of raw mana. A low, vibrating hum whispered into the air like the voice of a sleeping beast stirring. Every cricket, every rustle of wind—gone. The night itself held its breath. One side of Duskveil turned deep and cold as the void, while the other erupted with crimson fire, a mana inferno barely contained.

[Yin Step - Active]

Subaru blurred into nothing. A whisper of a shadow. A ghost of vengeance. In an instant, he appeared behind Lucas, emerging like a phantom and slashing with merciless force. The arc of the blades was death itself—a single strike meant to end everything.

But Lucas—

He shifted, as though he'd predicted it all. His body burst with light, and the blades sliced only air. He twisted around gracefully, mockery still clinging to his smile.

"Ah, so this is the 'aberration' Pandora-sama warned me about. I have to say, she was right to be intrigued. You're quite the specimen. But now... let me show you my treasure."

He held out a hand.

And reality bent.

A sword appeared—golden, radiant, and cruelly beautiful. It was double-edged, thin like a rapier but heavy with ancient power. Ornate designs coiled around the blade, glowing with sacred intensity. Yet the aura it radiated was corrupted. It was holy and unholy all at once.

"Behold—my gift from Pandora-sama. Her personal blessing. This little toy? I'm going to use it to paint your world in blood."

Subaru felt the weight of it before the blade even moved. A crushing pressure settled over him—like mountains collapsing onto his chest. Breathing grew difficult. His lungs resisted every inhale.

Ding!!

[Cursed dagger "Duskveil" has detected the sacred sword "Excalibur"]

["Duskveil" has awakened!!]

[Special Effect: Adaptation - Active]

Smoke, thick and dark as night, wrapped around Duskveil. The daggers trembled. Their shapes twisted, curved, expanded. Crimson veins lit up, crawling across their surfaces like roots searching for blood. Then—Duskveil lunged, affixing itself to Subaru's arms like living armor.

It wasn't just reacting—it was awakening.

Power surged into Subaru. He staggered, his body roaring with unfamiliar intensity. The daggers began to breathe, in sync with him. The red glow at their tips ignited brighter, burning like twin hearts. With every pulse, they drew mana from Subaru's core. They weren't just tools anymore—they were extensions of him. Living. Thinking. Thirsty.

They wanted blood.

And so did he.

The battle hadn't started.

It had been summoned.

Flugel spoke within Subaru's mind, his tone calm but urgent: "The sword in Lucas's hand is Excalibur. It's the opposite of Duskveil. That's why Duskveil resonated and evolved. But this form will drain you fast, Subaru. End this quickly, or it will consume you."

The Duskveil in Subaru's hand was no longer just a weapon. It had become an extension of his body, bound to his wrist and arm by threads of mana that pulsed with every beat of his heart. A nearly neural connection tethered them, and with each pulse of his blood, the dagger pulsed too—alive, breathing. It moved at the speed of his thoughts, driven by will, not muscle. Its aura shimmered darkly, wrapping him like a cloak, and his shadow seemed to flicker unnaturally behind him. In his eyes, determination flared to life, crystallizing into a single, burning thought: This battle ends here.

Without hesitation, Subaru launched himself at Lucas. He moved like a phantom, the dagger dancing in his hand, trailing shadows that curled and lashed with every step. Every motion cut through the air, each slash echoing like a violent rhythm. Time seemed to slow as Subaru's form blurred, the battlefield contracting into the narrow space between death and survival.

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

Lucas tried to fend off the strikes by sheer instinct, but Subaru had transcended. Each slash of Duskveil carved invisible trails of mana through the air, some breaking through Lucas's guard, drawing blood and spraying it into the wind. The noble staggered, coughing violently, his sword trembling in his hand. Blood dripped from his cheek, a stark red against his now tattered silver armor.

"Cough! Cough! What—? You mean I can't beat you with brute strength?! DAMN IT!"

Fueled by humiliation and rage, Lucas roared and surged forward, swinging Excalibur with all his might. The blade howled through the air like divine punishment. Each swing was a promise of destruction, backed by ancient power and fury.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

But Subaru's defense was unshakable. He parried every blow with precision, his shadows coiling around him to swallow the incoming force. Each strike sent vibrations through his arm, yet he endured, his steps dancing through chaos. Then, in a blink—he vanished.

[Yin Step - Active]

He entered the realm of shadows. Time there was fluid, distorted. The fire mana within Duskveil surged wildly, compressing into its core. Light began to gather at its tip, glowing like a star on the verge of collapse. This was no longer mere magic.

It was judgment.

[Overburst - Shotgun]

In a single heartbeat, all the mana was unleashed.

A roaring detonation tore through the sky, exploding directly where Lucas stood. Fire and shadow collided, forming a force that shook the earth itself. The shockwave obliterated trees, melted stone, and shattered the air with its pressure. The sound was deafening, like the world itself crying out.

Even within the shadow realm, Subaru was thrown backward by the blast. Pain lanced through his joints; his arm felt like it had been ripped apart. His body convulsed with the aftermath, but the pain was distant—secondary. All that mattered was the mission. The smell of burnt ozone filled his nostrils, the only tether to reality.

[Yin Step - Deactivated]

He emerged from the shadows, scanning the field with cold eyes. Silence greeted him—oppressive and heavy.

The land before him had been reduced to a scorched crater, devoid of life. Nature itself had been eradicated. Ash drifted through the air like mourning snow. Trees were charred skeletons. The stench of burnt flesh and scorched metal lingered, clinging to every breath. A crater marked the epicenter of the blast, its edges still smoldering.

Lucas lay sprawled before him, writhing. His body was ravaged by burns; one arm hung useless, bones shattered, muscles torn. Slowly, he lifted his head, glaring with a blend of fury, disbelief, and shame. The fire in his eyes flickered—fading.

"YOU DAMNED CREATURE! HOW CAN YOU BE THIS STRONG?! I—LUCAS VEILHART—CANNOT BE INFERIOR TO YOU!"

His scream was the last gasp of a shattered pride. Blow by blow, his arrogance had crumbled, and now he knelt in the ruins of what he once believed was untouchable strength. His breathing was ragged, each word punctuated by a tremor.

Subaru stared down at him in silence. His expression was empty, yet something flickered beneath—a strange, conflicted peace. It wasn't triumph that filled him, but the quiet that comes before the end. Before silence. Duskveil still pulsed in his hand, beating like a second heart. It yearned for closure.

He inhaled deeply, then raised the dagger. All the mana left in his body surged toward its tip, the threads of connection between him and Duskveil tightening with purpose.

[Overburst - Active]

This explosion was unlike anything before.

It wasn't merely an attack—it was an atrocity against nature itself, a rupture in the integrity of the world. The blast had widened the already colossal crater, transforming it into a gaping wound upon the earth. Trees disintegrated to ash in an instant, their very essence undone. The shockwave roared outward like a vengeful god, distorting the air with ripples of heat and pressure. Layers of soil peeled and crumbled like brittle parchment. Wildlife caught within the radius simply ceased to exist, erased so thoroughly that even their echoes were gone. Villages miles away trembled beneath the force, houses swaying as though reality itself had convulsed. It felt less like an explosion and more like divine retribution.

Subaru dropped to his knees, the strain too great to bear. His lungs heaved in desperate gasps, and every breath scorched his throat. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with the grime and blood. His muscles twitched and failed, unresponsive and leaden. His fingers dug into the broken ground as if trying to anchor himself to the world that threatened to fade away. Even still, through gritted teeth and the tremble of his jaw, he managed to spit out words drenched in contempt.

"Haaah... haaaah... Got what you deserved... you prideful bastard."

But fate was not so merciful. Even as those words left his mouth, the ground beneath him began to quiver—not like before, but in response to something awakening. The crater's heart throbbed with a pulse, like a heartbeat too massive and monstrous to belong to anything mortal. From deep within the sundered earth, a red, sparking force bled upward, seeping like a poison into the open air. The scent changed—thick with metal, smoke, and something far fouler.

Then came the voice, chilling and absolute. Flugel's voice. It echoed inside Subaru's mind, sharp as glass.

"He isn't dead."

Subaru's eyes snapped wide. His heart skipped a beat. Despite his ravaged body, he forced himself upright, trembling as he stood on legs that no longer obeyed. His mind screamed for reason, for certainty—but his instincts demanded he see it with his own eyes.

And so he did.

Lucas rose.

No longer a man. No longer even a corpse.

Charred nearly beyond recognition, skin flaking like burnt paper, his armor warped into grotesque shapes. But even that horror paled in comparison to what now engulfed him—a maelstrom of crimson and obsidian energy that devoured the very light around it. It twisted and spiraled around him like a storm of malevolence. The essence was unmistakable.

The Authority of Pride.

Lucas floated above the scorched earth like a reborn god, no longer bound by the frailty of flesh. His aura throbbed with power that did not belong in this world. Subaru felt it in his bones, in the marrow of his spirit. This thing was not Lucas. It was what had always been waiting beneath. Something ancient. Something triumphant. There was no rage in his eyes—no fury or hatred. Only cold, undeniable superiority. A being who saw himself as not just better, but destined to rule.

He raised one hand toward the heavens, as though delivering final judgment. And when he spoke, the world itself listened:

"JUDGE THE SINNER."

"JUDGMENT."

The atmosphere cracked.

A dome surged into existence, spanning nearly a kilometer, composed of colossal white rings that extended far above the clouds. They pulsed with sanctified energy, light so intense it turned shadows to dust. The passage of time itself hesitated, reality pausing at the brink of collapse.

And then it came.

A flash of blinding white light. Pure judgment made manifest. A holy execution.

The radiance devoured the battlefield. Trees, stones, even the very concept of matter—consumed. Mana screamed and distorted as it tried to flee. Subaru had no time to react, no strength to resist.

He, too, was consumed.

—

The world became white.

Subaru's eyes blinked open to an expanse of unrelenting brilliance. It wasn't light—it was erasure, so bright it scoured perception itself. He raised a hand to shield his gaze, but the intensity seared past his flesh and into his soul. And yet, this was not warmth. This was not peace.

This place was lifeless.

There was no sound. No air. No direction. No sky. Only sterile radiance. Time had been forgotten here.

"Flugel?" he croaked. But his voice came out strange—high-pitched, thin, like a memory more than sound. It echoed off of nothing.

No answer.

A terrible silence followed. The kind of silence that bred dread.

Then—movement. Above him, something descended.

A figure coalesced, one limb at a time. It resembled Lucas, but Subaru knew better. This was no man. This was something ancient clothed in flesh. Something that had worn Lucas like a mask.

The being's eyes were devoid of emotion. They did not see Subaru as a foe, or even a man. They saw something to be measured, judged, discarded.

It opened its mouth.

"Natsuki Subaru."

The voice was not a voice. It was the shriek of steel torn apart, the rumble of thunder rolling through mountains, the hiss of fire meeting flesh. It did not speak. It declared.

"Welcome to your Hell."

Terror rose like bile in Subaru's throat. His vision trembled. But amid the paralysis of fear, a single thread remained.

The System was still active. He could feel it. Faint, but there. A flicker of resistance.

Duskveil surged into his hand. The dagger gleamed even in the artificial light, its silver-veined obsidian blade humming with purpose. He had wielded it across countless trials. But here, in this space beyond reason, it felt frail.

Still, he lifted it.

His arm trembled, but his heart did not. The being tilted its head. Its lips curled.

"Fragments of metal. Pitiful."

Before Subaru could move, the dagger was ripped from his grasp by an unseen force. It floated between them, suspended in judgment.

The runes began to crack. The core pulse of its mana flickered... Then extinguished.

A soundless explosion shattered Duskveil into a hundred fragments.

They hung in the air like frozen stars. Then, one by one, they vanished. Swallowed by the void.

Nothing remained. Not the weapon. Not the hope. Not the will to fight. Only the judgment that had yet to fall.

Subaru's eyes flew open, wider than they'd ever been. His pupils contracted, trembling with disbelief. "No... No, this can't be real... Duskveil... how could it be destroyed? How? This place... what even is this? Is this... really hell?"

His thoughts were like thunderclaps in his skull. Every single question rammed into his mind with the force of a hammer, lodging itself deep into his brain like rusted nails. Confusion turned to dread. Dread to horror. The boundaries of logic were melting before the surreal torment surrounding him. The air was stale, lifeless. The ground felt wrong beneath his body—soft and cold like a corpse's skin.

Lucas stood nearby, expression unchanged, as if Subaru's despair was the most natural thing in the world. And then he spoke again, voice laced with venom and vanity.

"You dared defy me—Lucas Veilhart—and in doing so, you defied the grace of Pandora-sama herself. You hurled your mortal filth at my sacred flesh, struck me again and again as if we were equals. You wounded me. Stained me. Now... you will suffer. This is your retribution."

Subaru felt something crack deep within his soul. The sheer terror of the situation battled with the last embers of resistance still flickering in his heart. But as Lucas spoke, the fear melted. It didn't disappear—but it was consumed by something stronger.

Fury.

His entire body tensed. His fingers twitched. His blood began to boil, surging with whatever mana remained in his fractured body. Teeth clenched, voice trembling but unwavering, he roared:

"YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT!!"

He forced his mangled body upright, standing against the weight of despair. He could feel it tearing at his insides—every vein, every joint, every muscle screamed for him to lie down and give up. But he didn't. He wouldn't. Subaru's mana gate burst wide open, flooding the air around him with a torrent of spiritual pressure. Invisible winds swirled around his feet. The very ground cracked and groaned beneath the intensity of his defiance.

Rings of mana spiraled around his arms, forming like halos of pure intent. Power danced in the air like lightning. With a final scream, he launched himself forward.

Lucas sighed. He didn't even look surprised. Just... disappointed. He tilted his head with a lazy motion and raised a single finger.

Snap.

A sound like glass shattering.

A wave of force exploded outward. Subaru's momentum shattered. The air crushed inwards. He was flung backward like a rag caught in a storm. His feet left the ground, his spine contorting midair—until the earth slammed against him, face-first.

A crunch. A pop. A jolt of electric pain.

The agony blanketed his nerves in a blaze of fire. He groaned, limbs twitching helplessly. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the ground with defiance.

Lucas frowned as if annoyed. "You're persistent... and very, very irritating."

Then, light sparked in his palm.

Not just any light. Holy light. Blinding, divine. It morphed, took shape, solidified into something ancient and horrifyingly beautiful. A golden blade—slim and elegant, its edges radiating the essence of absolute purity and death.

Excalibur.

He held it aloft like a king claiming his birthright. With a gentle sweep, he cut the air. The space itself trembled. The cut shimmered like a wound in reality.

Subaru forced his battered arms to rise.

But it was far, far too late.

There was a hiss—then the unbearable scent of scorched flesh. Pain seared through his arms like a sunburst.

He looked down, confused for a heartbeat.

And then he saw it.

His hands were gone.

Two stumps where they had been. Arcs of blood spraying violently.

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!"

The scream was not just pain—it was despair incarnate. It was everything he had left pouring out of his throat in raw, animalistic terror. He tried to summon mana, to cauterize the wounds, to do something, anything—but each attempt only deepened the agony. His arms writhed with severed nerves, twitching, flailing.

His vision flickered. Distant shapes blurred. His body gave out.

Lucas began walking toward him. Step by step. Like a priest approaching an altar, his expression eerily serene. He pointed Excalibur downward, the blade humming with righteous fury.

Subaru couldn't move.

He couldn't run.

He couldn't even scream anymore.

The blade came down slowly—deliberately.

And it plunged into his chest.

Like a knife through paper.

It pierced his lungs, and he convulsed. It reached his heart, and his mouth filled with blood. A river of red poured out as his body spasmed once—then stilled.

His eyes met Lucas's. One last time.

Tears welled in them.

"No... no. Natsuki Subaru... you're not allowed to die here. Not yet. I'll kill you again. And again. And again. A hundred times. A thousand. There will be no end. You belong to me now. Every death... will be my sacrament."

Subaru couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His mind sank. Darkness reached out with cold fingers, wrapping around him like a burial shroud. But deep inside, far beneath the torment—something resisted. Something clawed at the void.

Lucas raised both arms high.

The white void surrounding them began to shudder. The heavens above cracked like brittle porcelain. And then it began to fall.

Black shards.

Falling from the sky like dying stars.

The illusion of light crumbled. Darkness bled in from every fracture, consuming the world around them. The false purity was fading. All that remained was judgment.

"LET THE JUDGMENT BEGIN!"

The words thundered, not from his throat—but from everywhere. From the air, the ground, from within Subaru's very chest. They echoed like the final toll of a divine bell.

This wasn't just death. It was execution. It was ceremony. A sacrament of ruin.

And Subaru—his soul torn, his body broken—was dragged into a void without end.

Into an abyss that knew no mercy. No escape.

Only pain.

Only judgment.