Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Waking Up In A Weird Body

Subaru woke up with a weird feeling nagging at the back of his skull, like that drowsy kind of static you get when you nap too long in the afternoon and forget what year it is. His face was warm. Not the comforting kind of warm, like your own blanket and pillow; it was direct, sharp, and way too bright. Sunlight. Straight-up beams of it smacking him right in the eyes. That didn’t make sense. His curtains were always drawn before bed—he had a habit, a routine. A system. His blackout curtains were practically sacred. So why the hell was the sun tap dancing on his face like this? He groaned, slow and groggy, shifting to bury his face deeper into... nothing. Just air. Which hit his skin far too freely. Too cold. Too open. Not blanket-wrapped warm like he expected. His brow furrowed hard. What the hell? Did he throw off the blanket in his sleep again? Wouldn’t be the first time, but this felt more extreme. It wasn’t just that he was uncovered—he felt… exposed. Like full-on vulnerable. And now that he was focusing on it, it almost felt like he was… naked?

He cracked one eye open, blinking through the blinding white glare of sunlight that painted the world around him like someone turned the brightness to max. The ceiling above him was high. Like really high. Painted glass shimmered somewhere in the corner of his vision. And there was a smell—something dusty and old, like wood that’d been soaking in incense smoke for a decade. He pushed himself up with a wince, his palm pressing into a hard floor—not carpet. Not wood flooring from his room. Cold stone.

He squinted around, confusion blooming wide across his face. This wasn’t his room. This wasn’t his house. This was… a church?

“What the hell…” he mumbled, voice croaky with sleep, but even as the words left his lips, something was off. There was a strange lilt in the sound, softer, smoother, like it had gone through a filter of… femininity?

His heart skipped a beat.

“Dad?” he called out, and wow, okay, now that sounded weird. It wasn’t his voice. Not his normal, kinda mid-range guy voice that cracked sometimes when he yelled too loud. This voice was higher, like a girl trying to speak softly in a cathedral. “Mom?”

His voice echoed off the walls, bouncing back at him like a question that didn’t want to be answered. No reply came. Just that eerie, holy silence you only ever really heard in places of worship when no one else was around. He sat up completely, propping himself on shaky arms. A breeze rolled through the cracked stained-glass windows, brushing over his bare skin—and that’s when he froze.

Air was kissing the inside of his thighs. His very exposed, very bare thighs.

He looked down slowly, hesitant like someone checking under the bed for monsters even though they knew damn well something was waiting. His hands—paler than usual, slender fingers that didn’t look like his—moved to his lap, confirming what his brain already feared. His limbs were thin. Slim. Not weak, but delicate. Feminine. Too feminine.

“What the—” he whispered, sitting up straighter, which made the fabric covering him slip higher up his legs. A light, weirdly thin cloth hung over his body, white and nearly transparent in the morning sun. It was more of a robe, really, and it wasn’t doing much to preserve his modesty. He wasn’t just uncovered—he was practically on display.

His tongue felt weird in his mouth too, like it didn’t sit right, or maybe his teeth were different? He tried to swallow, but the movement made his head ache a little. Everything felt… off. His balance, his senses, even the way he was breathing.

And then came the wind. Another gust, this one straight up under the flimsy cloth, sliding between his legs like a rude surprise. The sensation made him yelp and stiffen, not because it was cold—but because it tickled in a way that was absolutely foreign. His eyes widened. Something was wrong. No. Something was missing.

His hand snapped downward without thinking, clutching the fabric and yanking it up in full-blown panic. He bent forward like a man ready to confront a horror movie villain.

And horror, indeed, stared back.

There was nothing there.

As in, nothing.

“Nooo—!” he shrieked, voice cracking—no, not cracking. It was fully feminine now, high-pitched and distressed, like a girl watching her phone fall into a storm drain. “He’s gone!”

The words echoed around the empty church as he—she?—scrambled backward, crawling away from the spot like it had personally betrayed him. Which maybe it had. Because this wasn’t just some weird dream. This wasn’t some hangover gag or cosplay gone wrong. This was real. This was a whole new level of WTF.

Subaru panted, chest rising and falling in quick bursts as she—he—whatever—stared at the unfamiliar limbs attached to this unfamiliar body. Hands that looked like they belonged to someone who moisturized. Knees that weren’t knobby and scarred. Thighs that curved instead of jutted. And when he touched his face, his fingers traced a soft jawline, no stubble, no sign of any past shaving struggles. His hair felt longer too. Not by a ton, but enough to graze the sides of his neck.

He sat there, legs folded awkwardly, robe doing a terrible job at covering anything, and tried to process. Tried to rationalize.

“Okay… okay… Maybe this is a dream,” he said aloud, hugging his arms around himself, voice wobbling between hysteria and hopeful delusion. “Maybe I passed out watching anime again and this is just some weird subconscious trip. Maybe I’m in some Tensura parody spin-off where everything’s reversed. Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense, right? Like one of those genderbent fanfics with weird tags and too much fluff. Maybe I’ve been reading too much stuff written by that guy… McPhoenix David, was it?. Anyways, this must be my imagination.”

The silence didn’t agree. The silence said this is happening.

He slapped his cheeks with his dainty little hands. It hurt. “Ow. Okay. Not a dream.”

His legs wobbled as he stood, the stone floor icy against the soles of his bare feet. He tried to get a better look around, hoping for any clue, any familiar sign that might give context. The church was enormous, the kind you’d expect to see in medieval fantasy towns or old European cities, with long pews stretching down the nave and sunlight spearing through multicolored windows. The altar stood tall at the far end, ornate and untouched, but there was no one around. No voices. No footsteps. Just the echo of her—his—panicked breaths.

“I gotta find a mirror,” he muttered, wobbling a bit as he tried to walk, arms flailing slightly for balance. His hips swayed more than they used to. That was gonna take getting used to. “Gotta confirm… gotta see what I’m working with here…”

And underneath the panic, the chaos, the reality-warping realization that he might be in a new body, in a new place, and maybe even a new world—there was a tiny spark of curiosity. It was buried deep, shoved behind a mountain of anxiety and self-doubt and a whole grocery list of mental breakdowns, but it was there. Subaru Natsuki had been through wild before. He had lived and died and looped and screamed through despair in all kinds of games, but this? This was new. This was real.

And he had no idea what was coming next.

Ō—Ō

Finding the mirror was a joke. Seriously, a sick joke from the universe. Because at first, there was nothing. Just stone walls, a couple of wooden pews that had seen better centuries, and dusty glass windows that let in too much sun but not enough answers. Subaru had to wander around barefoot, legs shivering with every chilly gust that blew through the gaps in the windows, holding that useless robe in place like he was in some cult's cosplay convention. He checked behind the altar, in every corner, praying—ironically—that there was something reflective somewhere. After nearly faceplanting over a candle stand and nearly tripping on a collapsed hymn book, his eyes finally caught something glinting in a dark corner of the room. A metal basin. Water.

He stumbled toward it like a dehydrated desert wanderer, his knees wobbling from stress and the unfamiliar center of gravity, and dropped to his hands and knees beside it. The surface of the water was just reflective enough. It was warped a bit and shimmered whenever he breathed too close, but it was enough.

He looked.

And there she was. Or rather… he was?

The reflection staring back was borderline ethereal. Huge, wide blue eyes blinked back at him with watery confusion. Her lashes were stupid long—like they belonged in one of those makeup tutorials where they slap ten pounds of mascara on and call it “natural.” Her cheeks were a pale pink, skin so smooth it almost looked painted on. And that hair—platinum blonde, fine and soft, falling around her shoulders in gentle, silvery waves. The kind of hair that glowed in sunlight, like a magical girl’s transformation had just finished. The kind of hair that would get an anime opening dedicated entirely to it.

And the form? Petite. Slim shoulders, dainty collarbones peeking out from beneath that stupid robe, and a face so delicate it could've been carved from moonlight.

Subaru reeled back in horror.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” he shouted, throwing his hands up like he was protesting a war crime. “This—this is some top-tier waifu nonsense!”

He stared again. “Like… I’d simp for this girl! I would straight-up make her my phone wallpaper and argue in forums about how she deserves better plot armor! I’d watch a whole 24-episode season about her tragic backstory and cry like a damn fool!”

He grabbed the sides of his head, fingers digging into the longer strands of hair, eyes wide with betrayal. “And she’s ME! What the hell?! I can’t be my own anime crush! That’s, like, narcissism squared!”

He knelt there, spiraling, still staring at the ridiculously pretty face in the reflection. It was impossible. There was no way this was natural. He narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping in with every passing second.

“Think, Subaru, think!” he hissed, pacing in small circles now, hand clutching the front of the robe to keep it from flying up. “Okay, okay. Maybe this is one of those super-secret underground scientific experiment situations. Like in the movies! They kidnapped me—yeah, that makes sense—they knocked me out and surgically turned me into this! They… they cut off Subaru Jr. and replaced me with—uhh—girl parts. Maybe even transferred my whole consciousness into a brand new lab-grown girl body! Like some sci-fi Frankenstein gender-bender project!”

He stopped pacing and stared dead ahead.

“But… why?” he asked the air.

The air had no answers.

“Why go through all that effort just to turn me into some magical anime girl lookalike?!” He held up his hands like he expected the universe to reply. “If they needed a test subject for experimental cosmetic surgeries, there’s gotta be easier ways! This—this is extreme! Like, government conspiracy meets anime logic extreme!”

He squatted on the floor, arms around his knees, talking to himself like a man mid-nervous breakdown. Which, fair.

“Unless… oh no. Wait. WAIT. What if this is post-apocalyptic?” His voice dropped into dramatic narrator mode. “The world has ended. Society has crumbled. Humanity is on the verge of extinction. And they need someone—anyone—to carry on the species. BUT—they didn’t have enough viable females! So they took some poor sap and transformed him into a girl so he could save mankind!”

He gasped. “Masaka… Am I the last hope for humanity?! Did they just decide, ‘Welp, guess Subaru’s the chosen one now. Let’s give him boobs and throw him in a church!’”

His shoulders sagged as the weight of his ridiculous theory settled in.

Subaru crumbled to his knees in front of the water basin again, his face full of despair. “Gone… gone is my masculinity… and my pride… Sniff, sniff.” He wiped under his eye with the sleeve of the robe. “Subaru Jr., you were a true friend. We had our ups and downs, but you were always there. Not anymore…”

He stared at his reflection again, scowling at how adorable it was. “I mean… I am cute. Like, offensively so. But that doesn’t make this better! That’s not a consolation prize! This isn’t one of those games where I unlock a skin and get bonus stats for it!”

He stood up suddenly, fists clenched. “No! I won’t take this lying down! If this is an apocalyptic world, then dammit, I’m gonna survive! I’ll fight! I’ll make a name for myself in this hellscape! I don’t care how cute I am—I’m Subaru Natsuki! And I refuse to be reduced to just another waifu in the story of my own freakin’ life!”

The wooden door at the front of the church creaked suddenly, and Subaru spun around so fast he almost tripped on the edge of the robe. His fight-or-flight instincts went nuclear.

“Crap—!” he hissed, diving behind the nearest podium like it was a World War II bunker. Unfortunately, the thing wasn’t built for hiding. It was barely large enough to conceal a toddler, much less an anime protagonist going through an existential meltdown.

The door opened wider, and several figures stepped inside, robes flowing, hoods pulled low over their faces. They walked slowly, almost reverently, heads bowed. There were five of them in total, but Subaru barely had time to count before his eyes locked onto something else.

A man with green skin.

Not just slightly olive or tanned—like, actually green. Pale mossy green, like someone painted him in watercolors and forgot to add shadows. He was short, a little hunched, and wore the same kind of robe as the others, but he was clearly the only one not pretending to be human.

Subaru ducked lower behind the podium, heart pounding in his chest like a bongo drum.

Then the green man bowed deeply, his voice loud and weirdly theatrical as he declared, “Pandora-sama! I have brought them, just as you asked for!”

Subaru blinked.

“…Huh?”

His head slowly peeked out from behind the podium, disbelief twisting his face.

Wait.

Was the green guy talking to her?

He looked around. There was no one else in the room who matched the term “Pandora-sama.” The hooded figures were all facing him. Or… her. Oh no.

Subaru looked down at his ridiculous robe, then back at them, realization slowly clawing its way into his overtaxed brain.

Was… was his new name Pandora now?

And if so, why the hell did that guy say it like she was some kind of boss-level character?

“Wait wait wait,” Subaru whispered, mind racing. “Are they treating me like I’m some divine entity or something? Do they think I’m—like—a messiah ?! A saint?! A magical girl cult leader?!”

The green man remained bowed, waiting patiently. The others hadn’t moved, still kneeling in eerie, obedient silence.

Subaru’s eyes twitched.

“…Okay, Subaru. Think. What’s worse than waking up as a girl in a church?” He peeked around the podium one more time. “Waking up as a girl worshipped by a bunch of creepy cultists calling you Pandora.”

Because somehow, that name didn’t exactly scream sunshine and rainbows.

Subaru’s heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest, loud and clumsy, making her chest rise and fall visibly beneath the thin white cloth that still clung awkwardly to her form. Everything in her screamed to scream—to panic, to run, to do literally anything besides talk to the green-skinned man and his entourage of spooky cloaked followers who looked like they belonged in a horror game’s bad ending. But she wasn’t an idiot. Not now, at least. She’d watched enough anime to know how these situations went. Sudden freaky world? New body? Shady robed people calling you an important-sounding name with “-sama” attached to it? It was either play along or get stabbed. Or worse. So she exhaled slowly, shakily, like she was channeling her inner cool-headed protagonist, and raised her chin just a little, adopting a look she hoped conveyed mild royal annoyance rather than existential crisis. “State your name first,” she said, injecting as much imperious calm into her voice as she could manage.

The green man’s eyes bulged as if she’d just asked him to explain the secrets of the universe. He practically fell to the ground in front of her, arms outstretched, face lit with unholy devotion. “You jest, Pandora-sama!” he said, his voice rich with reverence and something deeply unhinged. “I am your most loyal follower, your humble servant, your ever-faithful apostle—Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti!”

Subaru blinked once. That… was a name. A long, weird, probably expensive-sounding name. It sounded like the kind of name someone made up when they wanted to sound important and completely bonkers at the same time. Her mouth opened for half a second before she forced it shut, lips tight. No time for sarcasm. She had to play the part, had to survive long enough to get her bearings, figure out where she was and what the hell was going on. And if that meant being “Pandora-sama,” then so be it. “Very well,” she said, folding her arms slowly across her chest. It wasn’t as authoritative a gesture as she wanted—her new arms were too thin and her frame too light—but it would have to do. “And tell me, Petelguese, who am I?”

His expression turned from delighted to delighted-er, eyes widening with something that looked like ecstasy. “Oh! Ah, a test! Pandora-sama, you are so wise to test the loyalty of your followers!” He began to shake—no, tremble—in place, his whole body jittering like someone had plugged him into a live socket. “You are Pandora, the Witch of Vainglory! Our radiant, transcendent, glorious leader! The head of our blessed congregation!”

Subaru’s skin crawled. Not from the words themselves—although ‘Witch of Vainglory’ definitely sounded like something she didn’t want to put on a résumé—but from the way he said them, like he was talking about a divine being made of stardust and nightmares. Her mind reeled. Witch? She was a witch now? That sounded like something from a fantasy series with a tragic backstory and a whole lot of death flags. “Fascinating answers, Petelgeuse,” she said, voice as dry as she could make it without cracking. “Tell me then. Do you remember our goal?”

His body seized up again, but this time he was grinning—grinning like he was about to burst into tears or laughter, and it was impossible to tell which. “Of course, of course, of course! Our blessed, beautiful, beloved goal! To bring back our goddess, our shining moon, our sacred salvation—Satella!”

Subaru’s stomach dropped. Not just because the name sounded… important in a dangerous way, but because the way he said it was terrifying. Like he was in love, obsessed, and haunted by this Satella all at once. Subaru didn’t know who that was, had never heard the name before in her life, but it sent a chill through her bones. She nodded slowly, pretending she already knew all this, that she was merely testing their faith. “Good,” she said simply, almost whispering.

“And… where are we, again?” she asked after a moment, because yeah, she still had no idea what forest she’d woken up in or how far she was from civilization or literally anything useful.

“In the Elior Forest, Pandora-sama! Deep in the sacred land of Lugunica!”

Lugunica? That sounded vaguely familiar. Hadn’t he heard that before in some anime or game? Subaru made a mental note to panic about it later. For now, she needed to ride this out.

“You said you brought what I asked for,” she said, trying to keep her voice cold, commanding, like she ordered horrific things all the time. “Show me.”

Petelgeuse’s eyes lit up in a way that immediately made her regret saying that. “Of course, of course, of course! My head trembles in anticipation!” He waved a hand toward the cloaked followers behind him. One of them immediately turned and exited through the large wooden door with eerie, quiet efficiency. A moment later, he returned—with three more men in tow. All of them were carrying something. Large, heavy bags. The kind of bags you didn’t want to see outside of a mafia movie or an abandoned warehouse crime scene.

Subaru backed up a step instinctively, her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled into the edges of her robe. Something in her gut screamed that whatever was in those bags, it wasn’t going to be normal.

The men dropped the bags onto the cold stone floor with soft, sickening thuds. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet space, like the church itself was horrified.

Then—something rolled out.

A head. An actual human head. It rolled slowly, grotesquely, across the floor until it stopped right at her feet, staring up at her with dull, lifeless eyes.

Subaru’s entire body locked up.

Every muscle, every bone, every nerve screamed in horror. Her breath hitched, her stomach churned, and for one awful second she thought she was going to lose it. Right there, all over the altar floor. Her hands trembled. Her lips parted, a gag caught in her throat, but she forced it down with sheer willpower. Because she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t react. She couldn’t break character, not now, not when they were all watching her for approval, waiting for her to smile and nod like this was a perfectly normal Tuesday.

What. The actual. Hell.

No. This wasn’t Earth. No amount of sci-fi surgery or government conspiracy explained this. No experiment in gender identity or underground scientific breakthrough ended with a bunch of cultists bowing and offering heads as tribute. This wasn’t even close to normal. This was a whole other reality.

She had been isekai’d.

And not just isekai’d—no, Subaru had somehow been dropped into the body of someone who, judging by what she was seeing and hearing, was the freaking leader of a literal death cult. A witch. A freaking Witch of Vainglory. Worshipped by lunatics who killed people and brought their heads as presents.

Subaru couldn’t even breathe right.

What kind of sick cosmic joke was this?

She wasn’t just stuck in another world—she was stuck in a world where she was the villain.

However, as she stood there, surrounded by death and devotion, Subaru realized something that made her stomach twist tighter than it already had. Something was off. Not emotionally—though yes, that was a mess too—but physically. Her body didn’t feel right. It had felt strange from the moment she woke up, but now that she was still, now that she had calmed enough to actually feel, she noticed something... unnatural. She wasn’t shivering or trembling from fear or cold, even though her skin was exposed to the cool air of the church and the chilling atmosphere of murder. It wasn’t just a lack of fear—it was a literal lack of warmth. Her skin, when she brushed her hand over her arm, felt like porcelain. Cool. Not clammy, not alive, just... cold. And there was no thrum of blood beneath the surface. She pressed her hand against her chest, right above where her heart should be. Nothing. No pulse. No heartbeat. She waited, counted seconds. Nothing moved. She wasn’t breathing either. She only realized it because her chest had stopped rising and falling, and when she tried to take in a breath, it felt mechanical—like she was only mimicking something she no longer needed.

She stood there for a long moment, frozen in place, her hand still against her unmoving chest. That explained why she didn’t throw up earlier. That explained the numbness. The detached way her senses were reacting. Her body wasn’t in shock. It was just dead. Or... undead. Which—God help her—meant the only logical conclusion was that she really was a witch. A literal, full-on, probably immortal, probably evil witch. She blinked slowly and then, because what else could she do, forced her face into a smile that hurt her cheeks from how fake it was.

“You continue to please me, Petelgeuse,” she said, trying to sound lofty, benevolent, totally not horrified by her own lack of vital signs.

Petelgeuse’s face lit up again like someone had plugged him into a wall socket. “Ah! So joy! So joy! So joy! Pandora-sama’s words bring blessings to this unworthy servant!” His hands spasmed in front of him, as if barely containing his glee, and he bent low again, forehead nearly scraping the floor. “What should we do with these offerings?”

Subaru glanced at the blood-soaked floor, at the head near her feet that still had a smear of crimson on the cheek. Her first command in this freaky new world, huh? Sure, okay. No pressure. None at all. Just be the cool, composed cult leader you were apparently born—or resurrected—as. She swallowed, pretending it didn’t sound like someone clicking a switch inside her empty throat.

“Bury them all,” she said softly, then, remembering how leadership worked, she added, “With honor.”

The room went still. Then Petelgeuse screamed, an actual screech of joy and purpose, “With honor! Of course, of course, of course! As Pandora-sama commands!” He turned and began barking orders to the other cloaked figures, who all rushed to obey like roaches scattering from light.

Subaru didn’t watch them haul the bodies. She turned instead, because if she kept staring, she was going to crack. She spotted a stone stairwell that wound upward, half-shrouded in shadow and likely leading somewhere quieter. Somewhere higher. Without saying another word, she ascended, feet silent against the cold stone, the hem of her too-thin white garment brushing her legs as she climbed. Every step felt heavier than it should’ve been, like her body was moving on willpower alone, not muscle and blood. No breath, no heartbeat, no warmth. Just a shell.

When she finally reached the top, she found a wide balcony overlooking a massive inner courtyard or sanctuary. It stretched out before her like a scene from a fantasy novel—ancient trees curling up to the sky, stone structures overgrown with moss, and far below, dozens of men and women in simple garb working diligently. Some were tending to gardens. Others were painting symbols into the stone. There was a strange, reverent energy to it all, as if they were preparing for something sacred.

Subaru said nothing. She simply walked to the edge, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She pulled them close, hugging herself tight as if that could somehow keep her soul from falling apart. She didn’t even realize the tears had started until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She buried her face in her knees and cried. Quiet, lonely sobs that she couldn’t hear because her ears felt muffled and her body didn’t breathe. There was no heaving, no gasping for air. Just the leaking of tears from eyes that shouldn’t have functioned. Her fingers dug into her knees. Her head pressed tighter into the nook between her arms. All of it, all of this was too much.

She’d died. That was the only conclusion that made sense. She must’ve died back home and woke up here. Not as a hero, not even as some cool outsider with cheat powers and a cute animal companion. No. She had woken up in the body of a witch. A villain. The kind of character that heroes fight and kingdoms fear. The kind that people rally armies to destroy. She wasn’t the chosen one here. She wasn’t here to slay the Demon King. Hell, she might be the Demon King’s ally.

The coldness in her chest deepened with the thought. But worse than that, worse than the loss of her body, her name, her gender, her entire existence, was the realization that nobody was coming to explain anything. No helpful goddess. No system screen with stats. No fairy guide.

Just Petelgeuse. And a whole lot of blood.

Subaru curled tighter into herself, trembling not from cold but from raw, helpless confusion. She was a villain. She was running a cult. A cult with a body count. And worst of all, she didn’t even know what the previous Pandora had done or what was expected of her beyond vague devotion to some lady named Satella.

She wiped her eyes roughly, leaving streaks of tears and blood on her pale cheeks. Nah. No way. No matter what body she was stuck in, no matter what people expected of her, she wasn’t going to let that decide who she was. She might be in a witch’s skin. But that didn’t mean she had to act like one.

Screw destiny. She was going to survive this, damn it. On her own terms.

Chapter Text

What A Weird Organisation

Subaru wandered outside the creaky old church, her bare feet padding softly over the packed dirt, the grass cold beneath her soles but her skin too lifeless to truly feel it. She weaved between crooked trees that curled upward like bony fingers, their branches dancing in the wind above. Ahead of her, in a clearing, the cultists were practicing archery—crudely, but with clear focus. Makeshift targets had been set up against bales of hay or roughly carved logs, and cloaked figures lined up in disciplined, eerie silence to let arrows fly. It was like summer camp, if summer camp came with death oaths and unholy devotion.

But what unsettled her more than the creaking bows or even the sight of someone accidentally impaling his own foot, was the way everyone looked at her. Wide eyes. Some filled with awe, others with confusion or thinly veiled fear. Whispers followed her wherever she walked. Pandora-sama. Is that really her? I thought she was just a story. She hasn’t shown herself in decades— Didn’t she vanish during the Great Eclipse?

So she was a legend to them. A myth suddenly made flesh. Great. Just what she needed—more pressure on top of being trapped in a dead girl’s body. As she stepped through the clearing, trying to not trip on her sheer, ghostly robe that insisted on showing way too much thigh, she caught snippets of conversations. They were talking about her—no surprise—but it still made her skin crawl. If this was some sort of fantasy simulation, the attention mechanics were way too realistic.

Then, one of them stepped forward. A teenager, maybe fifteen at most. Messy brown hair, dirt-smudged cheeks, and big eyes that looked far too excited for someone holding a bow. She’d overheard others call him a new recruit earlier, probably fresh from some poor village or bribed into service with false promises. He approached slowly, reverently, like a kid meeting a pop idol. Or worse, a god.

“Pandora-sama,” he said, stopping a few feet away and bowing so hard it looked like he might snap in half. “Please… I beg of you. Grant me your blessings.”

Subaru blinked. She had no idea what “blessings” even meant in this context. Like, did she have to recite a spell? Or touch him on the forehead? Sprinkle him with glitter?

“Uh… sure,” she said, trying to channel the calm, ethereal voice she assumed Pandora would have. “You have my blessings—”

“I want to touch your feet, Pandora-sama!” the boy said suddenly, eyes shining with unnatural fervor.

There was a pause. Not just from Subaru, but from everyone around. Bows lowered. Mouths gaped. A wave of awkwardness washed over the cultists like a cold breeze. Someone whispered, “That’s… bold.” Another murmured, “Is this even allowed?” A third just said, “I think he’s got a death wish.”

Subaru, who had absolutely no idea how the real Pandora would react, weighed her options. Slap him? Strike him down with some divine power she didn’t have? Laugh it off?

She settled for something in-between. “I… guess I can allow that.”

“Thank you!” the boy cried, and without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and reached for her legs.

It all happened in seconds. Just as his fingers brushed her cold skin, there was a glint of metal. Then, a flash of movement. The boy’s hand darted out from his robe, gripping a jagged, rusted blade. He drove it forward, right into her chest.

Subaru blinked. Time seemed to collapse around her, like reality had slipped off its rails.

“Die, you fucking witch!” the boy roared, rage bursting from his lips like fire. “You killed my village! My friends! My brothers! I will end your sorry life—!”

But his voice faded into a drone. The world slowed, blurred, stopped. Everything around her froze—mid-motion, mid-breath, mid-sound. The arrow that was halfway through the air just hung there, weightless. The leaves in the wind paused, mid-flutter. And Subaru, staring at the hilt of the blade buried in her chest, felt none of it. No pain. No heartbeat to stop. Just the creeping realization that she was dying.

On her first damn day.

“Is this how I go out?” she whispered, voice trembling with disbelief. “First day in a fantasy world, stabbed by some traumatized farm boy? This is so pathetic—”

Then, something appeared. Strings. Floating in front of her, two faintly glowing lines of light. One red. One blue. They pulsed like veins in the air, humming gently. She didn’t know how or why, but her hands reached out. Not for the red one—it felt dangerous. Angry. Final. But the blue one... it called to her.

Her fingers closed around it.

Suddenly, she was back.

She stood before the boy, once again whole, unstabbed, not even a single drop of blood on her. The cultists around her blinked like they'd lost a moment, confused. Didn’t they see the lines... Maybe none... Except Subaru. And maybe the boy, whose body was already being seized and tied to a log by two burly cultists, faces grim.

The cheers began then. They saw it as some divine miracle. Pandora-sama’s untouched body. The boy’s attack somehow foiled without consequence. To them, it was proof of her divinity. Of her power. She wasn’t just a myth—she was invincible.

Subaru’s knees shook beneath her robe, but she forced herself to walk. Slow, composed. She approached the boy, who was still thrashing, screaming curses, fighting the bindings with wild strength born of rage and grief. She crouched beside him, staring into his eyes.

“Why did you attack me?” she asked softly.

The boy spat at her feet. “Because your cult destroyed my home! You burned my village to ash. Slaughtered everyone—my mother, my sister—just because they wouldn’t bow to your damn Witch of Envy! You monsters call it sacrifice. I call it murder.”

The pain in his voice cracked something in her. The shaking of her hands wasn’t from fear anymore—it was shame. Guilt. None of this was her fault, not really, but… now it kind of was. She was wearing the face of the person who ordered it. The body. The name.

She turned her head, looking at the other cultists who stood with torches, waiting for her command. They expected her to say, kill him. They expected the punishment for treason. They expected blood.

Subaru stood up straight.

“Don’t kill him,” she said. “Put him in jail. Or… whatever the closest thing we have to that is here.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Confusion. Surprise. But no one argued.

Subaru turned and walked away, the cold wind trailing behind her, her mind reeling.

Ō—Ō

Subaru sat in a quiet room she had stumbled across while wandering the winding halls of the church, one of the only spaces that wasn’t dripping with an eerie sense of devotion or death. It had a single cracked window that let in slanted rays of afternoon sunlight, illuminating motes of dust swirling through the air. There was a desk pushed against the far wall, some moth-bitten books stacked on it, and a rickety wooden chair she had dragged over to slump into. Finally, a moment to think. She exhaled slowly—not because she needed to breathe, but out of habit. Her chest didn’t rise or fall naturally, not unless she thought about it. No heartbeat. No breath. Just stillness. A weird, terrifying stillness that sat heavy in her bones.

She rubbed her arms, though there was no warmth to chase. Just movement. Just motion to remind herself that she was here, that this body, even if it felt more like a doll’s than a living person’s, was hers now. It was beautiful, sure—elegant, doll-like, with perfect skin and hair so pale it looked like moonlight. But it was dead. A beautiful corpse with blue eyes too wide and innocent for someone who now commanded a cult full of lunatics and had already been stabbed once today.

Her mind swirled with questions, spiraling faster than she could catch up with. First off: this power. Whatever it was. It was strong—crazy strong. She’d literally reversed time. Or something like that. When the kid had stabbed her, she hadn’t died. Not really. Time had folded back, rewound the moment like a VHS tape, and spat her back out, good as new. No pain. No wound. Just the memory of the blade and the boy’s fury. But the world around her? They hadn’t remembered. They moved on like it had never happened. That was insane. That was terrifying.

She lifted her hand and stared at it, wondering what would happen if she stabbed herself. Would time rewind again? Or was it only triggered by actual death? And even then, were there limits? Could she do it a hundred times? A thousand? Was there a cooldown period? A cost? If she just kept dying over and over, would there be a breaking point? Was it like one of those games where you only had so many continues before game over?

“Am I immortal?” she whispered, half to herself. “Or just… recyclable?”

The very thought made her shudder—not physically, because again, her body didn’t do things like shivering unless she made it—but mentally. It wasn’t just a power. It was a curse. How many times had the original Pandora used it? How many times had she watched herself die only to wake up again, hollow and cold and alone? No wonder she ran a cult. If this was the tradeoff for that kind of power, sanity must’ve cracked somewhere along the line.

But there was more. She didn’t just reset time. She had seen strings. Floating in the air. Red. Blue. Like she’d been given a choice. What were they? Branches of fate? Alternate timelines? Could she choose which path to walk, like save files in a game? If so… could she rewind further? Change more than just a moment? Could she teleport through time and space, jump across distances and hours and choices like stepping stones?

“Come on, Subaru, think,” she muttered, tapping her temples. “This is anime-level OP stuff. There’s gotta be more to it.”

And if there was more, she had to learn how to use it. Because one thing was crystal clear—these people she was suddenly leading? They weren’t heroes. They weren’t misunderstood rebels or scrappy underdogs. They were killers. Fanatics. Villain material, through and through. They were feared for a reason. That kid who stabbed her hadn’t been lying. The Witch Cult had done horrible things. To villages. To families. Subaru didn’t know how much of that had been her doing—or Pandora’s—but she sure as hell wasn’t going to keep it going.

She pulled her knees up into the chair, hugging them tightly. “I’m not a villain,” she whispered, trying to make herself believe it. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want any of this.”

But here she was. In a dead girl’s body, with the world watching and kneeling and whispering her name like it meant salvation or doom. And maybe it did. Maybe she could be both. But she wasn’t going to keep pretending. She wasn’t going to smile and nod while people were executed in her name.

She’d change things. Somehow. She had to.

But for that, she needed knowledge.

“This world,” she said, glancing around the room like it might answer her, “I have to understand it. Lugnica. The forest. The cult. The witch—Satella. All of it.”

The books on the desk might’ve been a start. Most were old, written in a language she could just barely parse—like her brain had downloaded the syntax while her soul was busy being traumatized—but she picked one up anyway, flipping it open. Maps. Names. Kingdoms. Four major nations in this world, she remembered that much. Lugnica was one of them. Reigned by a king, or… maybe not anymore? Something about a royal selection?

She groaned. “I need a library. Or a nerd. Or a fantasy version of Google.”

She would need to learn the laws. The magic systems. The nobility. The politics. The economy. How powerful was she really? Compared to others? She hadn’t even cast a spell yet—could she? Did her powers make her a match for heroes, knights, or demon kings? Or was her strength only in her ability to reset, to redo, to manipulate fate?

The thought lingered.

If her body didn’t follow time, did that mean it wasn’t affected by aging? Disease? Magic? Could time-based magic even touch her? Could she pause others? Reverse others? She didn’t know. And if she didn’t know, she couldn’t win.

But one thing she did know: she couldn’t let the cult keep hurting people. Not anymore. Not while she was in charge. If that meant pretending to be Pandora while rewriting her legacy, then so be it.

“I’ll fake it till I make it,” she said, stretching her arms above her head, “but damn if I don’t become the weirdest villain-turned-hero this world’s ever seen.”

She stood, straightened her robe, and walked toward the door. No more hiding. No more waiting. She had a world to learn. And maybe, a future to rewrite.

Ō—Ō

Subaru had wandered back into the main chamber with no particular goal, just the vague impulse to look busy. If she stood still too long, someone might get suspicious—or worse, expect her to give another speech, issue another command, or heaven forbid, bless another sack of dismembered limbs. So she moved. That’s what leaders did, right? Wander around, look mysterious, pretend to know everything. She figured that’s how the real Pandora must’ve managed to keep this circus together.

She caught sight of a cluster of cultists scrubbing the cracked stone floor with rags that looked like they’d been dipped in more blood than water. Among them, one guy stood out—not because he looked important, but because he absolutely didn’t. No wild glint in his eye. No twitching hands or muttered ravings. Just a plain-faced teenage guy with a messy bowl cut and the kind of posture that screamed “I’m just happy to be here, please don’t kill me.”

Perfect.

She strode over, keeping her movements graceful and floaty the way people expected Pandora to be. People parted around her like she was Moses and this was the Red Sea, and the chosen cultist stiffened up the moment he realized she was walking straight toward him.

“You,” she said softly, in the way one might speak to a stray cat—calm but potentially dangerous. “I’d like to have a word.”

The boy blanched. “M-me?”

“Yes, you,” she said, already ushering him to the side like this was an impromptu confessional. Once they were a few feet away from the others, she turned to face him fully. “Tell me your name.”

“I-I’m Jarro, Pandora-sama.”

“Nice to meet you, Jarro,” Subaru said with a smile she hoped was warm and not creepy. “I’ve been... asleep for a very long time. My memories are foggy. I want to hear about the world—how it is now. You seem like someone with a good head on his shoulders. So tell me. About Lugincia.”

Jarro blinked like he’d been chosen by a divine lottery. He even bowed, trembling with a mixture of awe and terror. “O-of course! Anything, Pandora-sama!”

She waved him on. “Begin.”

“Well, uh, where to start...” He glanced around, like he wasn’t sure if this was a trap. “I suppose the biggest thing is the Royal Family’s gone. They died off about a year and a half ago—plague, or assassination, no one really knows for sure. So now the Kingdom’s in a mess. There’s the Royal Selection going on to pick a new ruler. Five candidates, chosen by the Dragon’s Covenant. Some say it's fate. Some say politics.”

Subaru tilted her head. “And the Dragon?”

“Oh! That’d be Volcanica! One of the three heroes who sealed away the Witch of Envy—Satella.”

Subaru’s eyebrows twitched. Satella again. This woman’s name kept coming up like a bad penny.

Jarro continued, getting more comfortable now that she hadn’t smote him. “The heroes were Sage Fugal, First Sword Saint Reid, and Volcanica, the Divine Dragon. They worked together four hundred years ago to stop Satella after she tried to consume the world. She used to be human, they say. But she devoured all the other witches to gain power—”

“Wait.” Subaru raised a hand. “Back up. There were other witches?”

“Y-yes,” he said nervously. “They were known as the Witches of Sin. One for each deadly sin. Sloth, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust, Greed, Pride, Envy. Though, uh... some say there's another one too, but that’s just rumors.”

Subaru kept her face blank. It was suddenly very hard not to roll her eyes. Of course there were witches of sin. This was an actual fantasy JRPG scenario, wasn’t it? Great. What next, a talking sword?

“The Witch of Envy devoured the others?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jarro nodded. “At least, that’s what the scriptures say. No one really knows how true they are. But after she was sealed, her followers—the Witch Cult—kept worshipping her. That’s us. You’re... you’re the Witch of Vainglory, so you’re not Satella. You’re different. You didn’t fight with the others. Some say you opposed her. Others say you... vanished.”

“I do have a flair for the dramatic,” Subaru muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“Well, after Satella was sealed, the Kingdom built itself around the Dragon’s protection. But it’s been waning, people say. That’s why the Royal Family died. The protection failed. Now, with the Royal Selection, there’s hope again... or chaos. Depends who you ask.”

“And these ‘Sin Archbishops’? Who are they?”

Jarro swallowed. “They’re the highest authorities in the Cult. Each one represents a sin. They say they were chosen by the Witches themselves. They carry out your orders. They don’t answer to anyone but you.”

Subaru raised a brow. “Even Satella?”

His eyes widened in fear. “Pandora-sama, please... don’t say her name so lightly.”

“Why not?”

“She might hear.”

Subaru bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. She needed the pain. Needed something real to ground herself. “Right,” she said. “That’ll be all. You’ve done well, Jarro.”

He looked so proud. Like he was going to cry. “T-thank you! Do... do I have your blessing?”

Oh boy. Here we go again.

She reached out and gently tapped his forehead with her index and middle fingers. “You are blessed, child. May your days be long and your limbs stay attached.”

He bowed so low his nose hit the stone and then scurried off like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket.

Subaru turned and sighed, wiping imaginary sweat from her cold brow. “So,” she muttered. “Legendary heroes. Sealed witches. Royal selection. Dragon protection. And I’m leading a death cult full of Satella fanboys.”

She flopped back into the nearest chair, letting her legs dangle over the armrest in the most un-Pandora pose imaginable. “A real fantasy world, huh?” she said to no one in particular. “Welp. Might as well prepare myself for all the shit coming my way.”

Chapter Text

With Weird Powers Comes Great Goals

The night crept in slow and soft, brushing the sky with indigo, and the stars blinked to life one by one like nervous little candles. Subaru leaned forward on the church's balcony, arms folded across the wooden rail, chin resting on them, eyes half-lidded as she watched the distant glow of the campfires outside. The cultists, these terrifying lunatics who had earlier that day proudly presented severed heads like party favors, now looked like any average group of slightly unhinged campers. Laughing, drinking from crude wooden mugs, playing some game that involved a lot of throwing stones and shouting nonsense. Some were singing off-key, while others clapped to the rhythm. A few were just huddled together gossiping like old ladies in a village square.

It was weird. Wrong, even.

Subaru closed her eyes, focused. One thing this new body had going for it was sensory perception that was off the charts. She didn’t just hear them—she practically felt the vibrations of their voices brushing along the threads of the night. She could tell who had a sore throat, who was snacking on dried meat, who hadn't washed their hands after handling monster guts. Honestly, it was a little disgusting. But mostly fascinating.

“Did you hear?” one cultist said in a hushed but excited voice, barely above a whisper. But to Subaru, it came through like he was whispering right into her ear. “Regulus-sama is getting married again!”

“No way!” another responded with an exasperated snort. “Didn’t he just get married like... last month?”

“No, no. That was the month before last. This is his two hundred and ninetieth wedding!”

“Two hundred and ninety?! Is he starting a kingdom or something?!”

Subaru’s jaw nearly dropped. “Two hundred and ninety marriages?” she mumbled to herself, brow furrowing. “Does he have a punch card system? Buy ten weddings, get one free?”

She shook her head and kept listening.

“I bet it's another pure and innocent girl again,” the first cultist continued. “He always picks the same type. He says it’s about their ‘perfection’ or something.”

“Creepy,” the second cultist muttered. “But hey, at least he doesn’t bite. Not like Sirius-sama.”

“Oh, right! Did you see how she acted last time she saw Petelguese-sama?”

There was some giggling. The kind that usually came from teenage girls sharing secrets about their crushes.

“She almost crushed that poor messenger guy because she thought he was interrupting a moment between them!”

“He just wanted to tell her she had blood on her boots!”

“I know! But she screamed, ‘I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF A HEARTFELT CONNECTION, YOU INSECT,’ and yeeted him into a tree!”

“Do you think they’ll ever go on a date?”

“Oh, please. They’re both completely bonkers. I bet they’d end up blowing up a tavern by accident.”

“Or on purpose.”

Subaru rubbed her forehead. “Sirius... Sin Archbishop of Wrath, huh?” she muttered. “And Petelguese is Sloth. That tracks. Those two are... emotionally complicated, to put it nicely.”

She kept listening. The fire crackled in the distance, and the topic shifted again.

“But the one I never want to meet is Capella-sama,” one cultist said in a much quieter voice. Everyone else around him seemed to instantly agree, even those who’d been laughing moments ago.

There was a palpable pause, and then one cultist spoke up with a shiver in his voice, “Yeah... Sin Archbishop of Lust. I heard she turned an entire village into frogs because one of them called her ugly.”

“That’s not even the worst. Someone said she reshaped a guy’s body into a table and made people eat off him for a week.”

“That’s... that's just messed up, man.”

“No kidding. They say she loves ‘beautiful’ things. But only her definition of beautiful. You never know what she'll decide is ugly next.”

“She once kissed a guy and then turned his tongue into a snake. I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds awful.”

Subaru winced. “Okay... yeah, that’s way past normal villain territory. That’s like... ten layers of unhinged wrapped in body horror with a side of trauma salad.”

The firelight flickered below, casting dancing shadows across the cultists' eager faces. Despite their terrifying loyalty, even they feared some of the people they served with. And that said a lot.

Subaru exhaled slowly, still hugging her arms around herself. She had learned more about this world in one day than she’d ever wanted to know. Sin Archbishops. Legendary heroes. A Kingdom in chaos. The cultists seemed loyal to her because of the body she now wore, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn on her if they smelled anything strange. She was still just a terrified Japanese boy trapped in the corpse-like body of a mystical war criminal.

“I’m not built for this,” she muttered, staring up at the moon. “I’m supposed to be the quirky, emotionally sensitive protagonist who makes friends with the dragon girl and eats convenience store food between battles. Not the leader of the damned witch cult with literal psychos for coworkers.”

Her cold, unmoving heart gave no answer. Just silence. No heartbeat, no warmth, no comforting rhythm to soothe her fraying nerves. Just the icy stillness of this body... of Pandora. She wasn't even sure what that name meant anymore.

Still, she listened. Because knowledge was power, and she had very little of the former and desperately needed the latter. And honestly? Knowing who to avoid, who might snap and turn her into a chair, who had issues with public displays of affection—that was vital information.

Subaru rested her head against the railing, eyes closed, letting the sounds of the cultists' banter wash over her. Beneath the laughter, the firelight, the singing, there was a strange comfort in it. These people were monsters, sure, but monsters who laughed and told stories. It made them more human. Which, in a twisted way, made them scarier.

But she also knew... if she wanted to survive—if she wanted to maybe steer this death cult ship away from ramming headfirst into the kingdom’s iceberg—she’d have to keep playing Pandora for a little while longer. Long enough to figure out how her powers worked, how far this strange time manipulation went. Long enough to maybe find a way home... or at least to stop them from doing more harm.

But first, she needed sleep. Not because she was tired—this body didn’t really do sleep the usual way—but because pretending to sleep meant she could be alone. Think. Breathe. Not be “Pandora-sama” for a few minutes.

“Just... don’t let Capella visit while I’m trying to nap,” she whispered into the night.

And with that, she turned from the balcony and quietly slipped back inside.

Ō—Ō

Sleeping, as Subaru quickly discovered, was a nostalgic concept. Her body didn’t ache with fatigue, her eyelids didn’t droop, and her chest never rose or fell with the rhythm of breathing. There was no heartbeat to lull her into unconsciousness, no gentle pulse in her ears to anchor her to the realm of dreams. She just lay there in her room, staring at the stone ceiling, listening to the wind press against the old church walls and the occasional distant snore of some overzealous cultist. It was boring. Deeply, painfully boring.

Eventually, the fires outside dwindled and the voices hushed, until only the soft murmurs of the guards remained. Most of the cultists had fallen asleep. That meant it was safe enough to go out for a little moonlit stroll. Besides, if she didn’t do something, she’d go insane.

Subaru slipped out of the church, her steps silent on the stone floor. Outside, the moon hung heavy and bright, casting silver light across the Elior Forest. The air was cold, which didn’t bother her, not when her own skin was colder. She was barefoot, of course—Pandora apparently didn’t believe in shoes—and the ground was uneven and damp. Each step over root and moss felt odd, not uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. Her body moved like it was floating half a second behind her thoughts. Every twitch of her fingers felt like commanding a puppet. It was weird.

Even weirder was her outfit, if it could even be called that. A loose cloth that draped over her upper body, flowing around her like windblown curtains, and stopped just above the waist. And that was it. No pants. No shoes. No dignity.

“If this is supposed to be fantasy chic,” she muttered under her breath, “then it’s more like fantasy peek. I swear, if the cultists weren’t so devoted they’d be the worst kind of degenerates.”

Still, the forest was beautiful in its own wild way. The trees reached up like skeletal fingers, leaves whispering secrets to the stars. Crickets chirped lazily. Somewhere in the distance, water trickled down a stream. Subaru sighed. Maybe this was a good time to figure out what the hell she could actually do besides dying and hitting reset like a broken game cartridge.

“Alright,” she said, stepping into a small clearing surrounded by gnarled trees. “Let’s see if I’ve got anything worth calling ‘magic.’”

She pointed a hand at a nearby tree and struck a dramatic pose, her voice low and commanding. “By my will, I command thee! Fall before me, tree!”

The tree, unimpressed, remained exactly where it was. Birds rustled in the branches like they were mocking her.

“…Okay, that’s embarrassing.”

Maybe dramatic poses weren’t necessary. Maybe she was thinking too hard. How about flight? She focused, imagined herself rising up—and just like that, her body began to levitate. Her toes left the ground, then her ankles, her knees, and then her whole self was floating about ten feet above the grass.

“Oh ho!” she grinned, arms outstretched. “Now this is cool!”

Then she realized: from this angle, if anyone was watching from below, they could totally see her butt.

“…Damn it, Pandora, your wardrobe decisions are a war crime.”

As she hovered, grumbling to herself, her eyes wandered back to the tree she’d initially tried to attack. Without thinking much, just idly annoyed, she focused on it again. A second later, with a sharp cracking sound, the tree split cleanly down the middle, sliced like it had met an invisible blade. Both halves tumbled to the ground in eerie silence.

Subaru froze. “Wait, what?”

No hand movements. No words. No sparkle effects. Just a quiet thought—and it happened. The tree obeyed her will.

“…Okay. So we’re talking reality-warping levels of power. That’s just great.” She looked off at a distant mountain ridge, considering, then quickly shook her head. “Nope. Not testing it on a mountain. That’s how you end up with a crater and a bunch of dead animals and suddenly some pissed-off dragon wants to duel you.”

Still floating, she began to glide lazily through the forest, eyes half-lidded, content in her new power—and vaguely terrified by it. If she really could alter reality with thought alone, what were the limits? Were there any? Or would she eventually go full ‘unstoppable and lose whatever was left of her sanity?

As she hovered through a denser patch of trees, she paused. Her senses prickled.

There.

A presence.

From the trees ahead, a hulking creature stalked into view. Its body was massive, hunched, covered in dark fur that shimmered like oil. Its eyes glowed faintly violet, and black mist seeped from its mouth like smoke. Long, barbed claws scraped the earth. Its breath made the leaves shudder.

A mabeast.

She’d heard cultists talk about them. Creatures born from dark magic, mutations that roamed the wilds with insatiable hunger. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Deadly.

Subaru floated down until her feet touched the forest floor. She stared at the creature, heartless and breathless as she was. “You wanna fight?” she said. “I’ve had a really crappy two days and throwing down might actually cheer me up.”

She raised a hand.

But the beast didn’t charge.

Instead, it lowered its head slowly, almost reverently. Its glowing eyes softened, and it padded forward, careful, slow, like it was approaching a god. When it got close enough, it bent its front legs, bowing.

“…What.”

The beast didn’t attack. It simply remained still, head lowered in submission. It was… calm.

Subaru reached out and placed a hand on its fur. Cold and coarse, but real. The beast shuddered, then let out a long sigh and sat down.

“Are you seriously… treating me like your mom?”

She ran a hand through its fur again. The beast leaned into her touch.

“Well, I guess this confirms it. Even dumb monsters see me as Pandora. Lucky me.”

She sat down beside it, leaning back against its warm, massive side. The mabeast didn’t seem to mind. It lay still, breathing softly.

“…So I’ve got peak powers, death-triggered time resets, and mabeasts who treat me like royalty.” She glanced at the stars through the canopy. “Next thing you know, I’ll be the damn Demon King’s wedding planner.”

The beast snorted gently, as if amused.

Subaru rolled her eyes. “I was joking. Don’t get ideas.”

Ō—Ō

Subaru sat on the edge of the bed again, legs swinging absently as she stared into the ornate mirror propped up against the crumbling wall. The face that stared back at her was absurdly beautiful—platinum hair cascading like moonlight, skin pale and flawless like porcelain, a slight flush to the cheeks that looked more like expertly applied blush than any actual blood flow. Her blue eyes, bright and haunting, shimmered with an unnatural gleam. A doll. A queen. A corpse.

She sighed.

"This girl couldn't be my waifu," she muttered. “She is me. And she’s terrifying.”

The door burst open behind her with a deafening bang, causing Subaru to shriek and nearly topple off the stool she was perched on.

"Pandora-sama!" a shrill voice cried out like an operatic wail.

"Gah!" Subaru caught herself just in time to avoid a full faceplant. "Who died?!"

Turning around, she laid eyes on one of the most bizarre individuals she’d ever seen. A woman stood in the doorway, wrapped head-to-toe in bandages, not a single inch of skin visible except one eye—a glaring violet orb full of manic devotion. A streak of silver hair slipped out from under the wrappings. Her robe barely clung to her frame, but what caught Subaru’s attention more was the strange visual effect trailing from her—chains, visible only faintly, like spiritual bindings... and fire. Her aura burned. Subaru could see it, feel it, like a layer of spiritual intensity licking off her body in ghostly flames.

"Huh. I can see auras now?" Subaru mumbled under her breath. “That’s neat.”

"Who’re you?" Subaru asked aloud—and immediately winced. She realized the error too late.

The woman gasped theatrically. "How cruel, Pandora-sama! It is me! Sirius—your extreme, eternal devotee!"

Ah. Crap. Sirius. Right. Archbishop of Wrath. Not exactly the type to forget your birthday. Or the type to take being forgotten lightly.

"I was merely testing you," Subaru said smoothly, recovering with a forced, angelic smile. "Confirming if you remembered who you were, silly girl."

"Hohohohoho! Of course! Wise as ever, Pandora-sama~! So much love, always so love~!"

Subaru shivered. That voice could peel paint.

"So, why are you here?" she asked, brushing her fingers through her pale hair with an air of exaggerated grace.

"I bring exciting news!" Sirius exclaimed, spreading her arms like a preacher at a revival. "I recently came across a Royal Guard—so full of pride, so full of secrets! I asked him—with love—what all the fuss in the capital was about! And would you believe it, he confessed everything! He said the Five Royal Candidates are traveling to Priestella City! A vacation, they said! A distraction! I was so touched by his honesty, I gave him all of my love until he was crying in pieces! Ahahaha~!"

Subaru didn’t even want to know what that meant. Her face barely concealed her discomfort.

"Interesting," Subaru said instead. "And what do you expect me to do with this intel?"

Sirius tilted her head, confused. "Huh? Didn’t you ask me to keep an eye out for anything interesting?"

Subaru resisted the urge to smack her own forehead. "Ah. Of course I did. Silly me. However—silly girl—do you have any ideas regarding this development?"

The bandaged woman actually squealed in delight, hopping in place. "Thank you! Thank you! I do, Pandora-sama! We can unleash the Great Rabbit upon them! Or—or even better—send me and my Beloved Petelguese to Priestella! We'll capture the Half-Elf! And maybe have our first date under the moonlight, tehehehee~!"

Subaru gave her the flattest, driest look humanly (or inhumanly) possible.

Then something clicked. "Wait... the ‘Half-Elf’? What about her?"

Sirius blinked, surprised. "Pandora-sama, you forgot?"

"Just a quiz for you, silly girl."

"Eeee! You gave me another nickname!" Sirius clapped excitedly. "Silly Girl~! I love it! I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you(∞)!"

"Just answer the question, dear."

"Of course!" Sirius composed herself, clasping her hands in prayer. "The Half-Elf—the candidate named Emilia—is key to reviving our beloved Satella! She’s crucial to the prophecy! We must capture her, or kill her if it comes to that!"

Subaru’s smile twitched. So Emilia… that Emilia… was central to the cult’s goal of reviving Satella. A sacrificial piece on some eldritch chessboard.

Her fingers curled slightly.

"Sirius. How many have you… killed?"

Sirius tilted her head, confused. "Why the sudden query, Pandora-sama?"

"Humor me."

"Hmm! I myself have spread love to 1,789 people!" She said it like it was a donation count. “And my subordinates have spread love to over 10,000 more!”

Subaru exhaled slowly through her nose. "And the others? Regulus, Petelguese, Capella?"

"Ah, Regulus' love is… explosive~!" Sirius giggled. "My darling Petelguese has over 20,000 love-gifts delivered! And Capella—well, she’s beautiful, but unlovely. Her love count is a mere 6,000."

"And Gluttony?"

"The siblings? Hoo… no one knows. They don’t just kill. They devour. Name, memories, existence. They're… scary even for us."

Subaru turned her gaze back to the mirror, eyes distant.

So many lives, snuffed out. So many futures, erased. And yet here they were—joking, playing, killing in the name of ‘love’ and belief. It was sickening.

But Subaru didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She didn’t even have tear ducts anymore, it seemed. Still, the weight pressed down on her chest like a phantom limb.

She straightened. "Sirius."

"Yes, Pandora-sama!"

"In your view, who is the greatest threat to our organization?"

Without hesitation, Sirius responded, "The Sword Saint. Reinhard Van Astarea. Everyone agrees—he is unmatched. A force from another age. He could ruin everything."

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. "Can he take all of you on at once?"

"I do not know. But many believe he is the strongest since the Sage from 400 years ago."

Subaru nodded slowly. "Very well, Sirius. You may rest."

Sirius bowed so low she nearly fell over. “Of course! Thank you, thank you, Pandora-sama! I will continue to love you from the shadows!”

And with that, she was gone.

Subaru sat still for a moment, staring into the mirror once more. The girl in the reflection didn’t smile. Her eyes were sharp, narrowed with new resolve.

“So… Emilia’s in danger. The others too,” she whispered.

A pause.

“Guess I know where I’m heading next.”

She touched the cold surface of the mirror. Her reflection did the same.

“Soon… I will end this all.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Powers!

Subaru paced the room like a hamster on espresso, her bare feet pattering against the cold stone floor while her mind spiraled into a chaos only someone with her situation could comprehend.

“Okay. Okay, let’s just... think for a second,” she muttered, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “I am... a dead girl. Not in the cute, ‘haha, I died and now I’m in a fantasy world with cheat powers’ way, but in the literal undead sense. No heartbeat. No body heat. I’m basically a sentient fridge magnet with hair.”

She spun on her heel and paced the other way, arms flailing.

“And I’m apparently Pandora. The Pandora. Queen of bad choices and possibly war crimes. Everyone here worships me like I’m a 5-star gacha pull and I don’t even know where the bathroom is!”

Her steps grew quicker. “The Sin Archbishops are nutcases. Capella’s scary hot in a ‘please-don’t-eat-me’ way. Regulus is collecting wives like Pokémon. Sirius is one romantic mishap away from burning down the continent. Petelguese is... Petelguese.”

She paused, throwing her arms up. “And I’m expected to lead them!? With what experience?! I can't even lead a group project without having an anxiety attack!”

Then, with all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, she tripped on absolutely nothing. Maybe air. Maybe guilt. Who knows.

“Ah—!”

She toppled forward with the slow-motion horror of a wet pancake preparing to meet the floor. But instead of hitting the wall ahead, something unexpected happened.

She phased through it.

“HUH?!”

But before she could process that cool new information, she landed face-first on the floor of the next room with a solid thunk. Her forehead and dignity took equal damage.

Lifting her head with the quiet despair of someone who’d just been caught mid-fart in a silent classroom, Subaru blinked.

Sirius was there.

Sitting in the middle of the room.

Lovingly sniffing what appeared to be a very worn, definitely over-loved handkerchief.

Subaru's eye twitched. The room filled with the kind of silence that could shatter glass. Sirius stared. Subaru stared back. The handkerchief swayed gently like a creepy flag of obsession.

“…Excuse me,” Subaru said, voice calm and almost professional, like she hadn’t just walked through a wall and witnessed a sniff-fest. She stood up and dusted herself off—which, in her current clothes, mostly meant brushing her thighs in a way that made her feel wildly self-conscious.

Still not breaking eye contact with the intensely awkward woman, she turned on her heel with stiff robotic motion, ready to pull her disappearing act again.

She walked toward the wall.

BUMP.

“Ow.”

Tried again.

BUMP.

“Okay, that’s not—nope.”

With the defeated aura of a failed magician, Subaru pivoted ninety degrees, walked over to the actual door, opened it like a very normal, very corporeal person, and walked out without a word.

Sirius, who had been holding the same inhale of awkwardness, blinked slowly. Then, shrugging like it was just another Tuesday, she returned to her beloved handkerchief and resumed sniffing it with the bliss of someone too unhinged to feel shame.

Back in her room, Subaru flopped face-first onto the bed—which wasn’t so much a bed as a dramatically shaped slab with a sheet on it, but whatever, she'd died worse ways. Her cheeks were still hot with embarrassment, but the sheer adrenaline of what she had just discovered far outweighed the awkward memory of walking in on a cultist sniffing someone’s used snot-rag. At least Sirius was insane enough that she probably thought Subaru's wall-phase stunt was divine.

She flipped over and stared at the ceiling like it owed her money. “Okay... phasing through walls. Actual superpower unlocked. I’m like... Obito meets Mirio... but cuter. And with a criminal record I didn’t earn.”

She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers dramatically. “If I can walk through walls, fly like a smug anime final boss, slice through trees just by glancing at them, and come back from death like I’m speedrunning this world on easy mode, what else can I do?”

Her eyes gleamed with the kind of excitement usually reserved for kids who just found out their Christmas presents were all game consoles.

She sat up, grabbed the old parchment on her desk, dipped a quill in ink, and with the utmost seriousness of someone plotting world domination, she began to write:

Things I Know I Can Do (Subaru’s OP Cheat List):

1. Time Reset Upon Death – Classic. Painful, but classic. Basically a glorified save/load button. Crying optional.

2. Phasing Through Objects – New favorite. Need to master so I don’t faceplant in front of more people.

3. Flight/Levitation – Cool until you realize everyone below can see your butt. Gotta work on altitude and graceful landings.

4. Telekinetic Destruction? – Cut a tree just by looking at it. No incantations. No chants. Just pure mental effort. Must confirm range and precision.

5. Extreme Senses – Can hear stuff from insane distances. Eavesdropping made easy.

6. MaBeast Taming (???) – Got called mommy by a giant wolf. Weird flex, but potentially useful.

7. Immortality-ish – Can’t die permanently. Probably. Still don’t want to get stabbed again if I can help it.

She leaned back, tapping the quill against her chin. “Now, what else can I try? I mean, if I’ve got cheat codes already baked into my existence, might as well explore the full moveset.”

Things To Test Tonight in the Forest (Subaru’s Cool Ideas That Might Kill Her):

1. Phasing At Will – Can I go through floors? Trees? PEOPLE? Could be useful in battle... or to avoid awkward conversations.

2. Walking Through Attacks – Need to test if I can go intangible during physical or magical attacks. Basically: Obito dodge mode.

3. Teleportation? – If I can control time and space, maybe short-distance teleportation’s possible? Imagine blinking behind someone all cool.

4. Stopping Time – Big maybe. If I can rewind time, maybe I can pause it too? Just for a second? Or a cool dramatic monologue?

5. Healing Others? – Can I rewind time for someone else? Fix their wounds by reversing them? Might be a long shot.

6. Summoning MaBeasts – That wolf listened to me like I was its mom. Can I summon them? Ride them? Command them?

7. Aura Suppression/Intimidation – Everyone sees me as Pandora. Maybe I can manipulate that aura and scare people into behaving?

8. Creating Illusions – It’s a fantasy world. Maybe if I believe hard enough, I can create fake images or sounds. Worth trying.

She added a small note at the bottom: Try not to explode or alert Sirius while testing any of this.

Subaru closed the parchment with a satisfied grin, spinning the quill once before placing it back. She felt like she was planning a heist, except the only thing she was stealing was godlike power from a dead woman’s reputation. “Alright, forest, get ready. Because tonight... Natsuki Subaru is going full anime protagonist.”

She cracked her knuckles, grabbed her cloak—not that it covered anything more than her modesty barely hanging on by threads—and prepared to sneak out for some good old-fashioned overpowered trial and error.

Ō—Ō

The night forest hummed with life. Crickets chirped like an orchestra of bells, leaves rustled under gentle breezes, and a soft mist clung to the trees like a secret. Subaru, barefoot and underdressed as usual, stepped into the woods with the confidence of someone who was half-terrified and half-thrilled. She raised her arms theatrically. “Alright, forest. Show me what you got. Let's see if this OP cheat character body came with a tutorial mode.”

As if summoned, several MaBeasts emerged from the shadows, their glowing eyes blinking at her with something like reverence. There was a bear-shaped one with tusks, a two-headed fox, a bird with scales instead of feathers. They surrounded her slowly, but not with hostility—more like she was a celebrity whose concert they’d stumbled into.

“Okay, okay, calm down, you’re all very weird and very adorable.” She offered a hand, and one of the wolf-like ones gently pressed its snout into her palm, tail swishing like a happy dog. Subaru gave it a few awkward pats. “This is seriously the dumbest cheat power ever. But I’m not complaining.”

With her fuzzy fan club sitting patiently around her like students awaiting a lecture, Subaru took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Time to test the list. First up: phasing through objects. She found a sturdy tree, walked toward it, and concentrated on the sensation she felt earlier in the church—like her body simply wasn’t there.

She walked into it. Thunk. “Ow.”

One of the MaBeasts whimpered in concern. “No, no, it’s okay,” she said quickly, rubbing her nose. “First try never counts.”

Second try, she narrowed her thoughts, imagined her body turning to mist. She stepped again. This time, her foot passed through bark. Then her torso. Then her whole self. She emerged on the other side without even a leaf out of place. “Holy crap. I’m a ghost. I’m a freakin’ ghost. I can do ghost stuff!”

She spent the next ten minutes walking through trees, rocks, and one startled MaBeast who looked both confused and spiritually honored.

Next up: walking through attacks. She broke off a thick branch and hurled it in the air, then focused just as it came down to smack her on the head. It passed through like a hologram.

“Yes! Obito dodge mode activated!” she shouted, grinning wide. “Alright, next!”

Teleportation. That was trickier. She stared at a boulder twenty feet away and squinted like she was constipated. Nothing happened. Then she closed her eyes, imagined standing on it, willed her body to not be where it was.

And just like that—pop. She was on the rock, balancing slightly off-center but standing. “Whoa! That’s—yeah, I’m gonna abuse this.”

Stopping time was next. She didn’t expect it to work, but she focused hard, digging into that same gut-deep feeling she had when the knife plunged into her chest back in the church. The world didn’t freeze so much as... slow. Crickets paused mid-chirp. The leaves hung still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. For three seconds, she was the only thing moving.

Then time resumed like nothing happened. She staggered, blinking fast. “Okay... okay, that one’s draining. Not gonna spam that without a cooldown.”

Healing others. She sliced her palm with a sharp twig, winced, then tried rewinding time just for her hand. It didn’t work. She tried again—this time not thinking of just the world, but only that one moment for that one injury. Her blood slurped back into her skin like it was being rewound. She gasped. “So I can target it. I’m basically the best first aid kit in the multiverse.”

Summoning MaBeasts? She focused, tried calling out with her mind. Nothing came. Then she whispered, “Come to me,” imagining the wolf she’d met before. There was a rustle in the trees. A familiar set of glowing eyes appeared. The beast padded out like it had been waiting the whole time.

“Okay, that’s disturbing,” she muttered. “But awesome.”

Aura control? That one was subtle. She stood tall, imagined her presence ballooning out of her like a storm cloud. The MaBeasts took a step back, nervous. She inhaled, reined it in, and imagined instead radiating calm. They returned, ears perked and tails wagging. “So... mood control aura? That’s busted.”

Illusions. She stared at a spot on the ground and tried to conjure a fake fire. It took a few minutes and some serious headache-level concentration, but eventually a flickering blue flame appeared. It wasn’t hot, didn’t burn, but it looked real. “You gotta be kidding me. I am the entire skill tree.”

She sat down in the middle of the beasts, who curled up around her like living pillows. “This... this is so messed up,” she mumbled, smiling despite herself. “I’m a zombie girl leading a murderous cult, trying to stop the apocalypse, and I just learned I’m basically a waifu with bad fashion sense.”

The wolf beside her licked her hand.

“Thanks, doggo. Now all I need is a reason to keep going.”

She looked up at the moon, silver and full, bathing the cursed woods in quiet light. “Because if I’ve got all this power... then maybe I can actually do something right. Maybe I can rewrite this story.”

The wind whispered through the trees. Somewhere far off, the world moved on, oblivious to the broken girl with the power to break it back.

Ō—Ō

Next day, as dawn painted the sky with sleepy oranges and pale blues, Subaru stood in the hallway just outside her room, arms crossed and a faintly serious expression on her face. Sirius, as always, had been lurking nearby—probably waiting for her daily dose of obsessive devotion.

“I’ll be gone for about a week,” Subaru announced, trying to sound authoritative.

Sirius blinked. “Oh? Where to, Pandora-sama? And… wait, why are you telling me this?”

Subaru paused. “…I just figured someone ought to know. In case, you know, you all think I got murdered or ascended or something.”

Sirius gasped like it was a scandal. “Pandora-sama, even your absences are divine! Thank you! Thank you! So love! So wisdom! So freedom!”

Subaru nodded with the stern, wise air of someone who absolutely did not know what she was doing. “Right. Yes. That’s me. Very… free.”

Then, with a little flicker of space-time distortion that would’ve made any seasoned mage throw up in awe or jealousy, Subaru disappeared.

And reappeared. On top of a tree.

“GAH—!” she flailed, grabbing the nearest branch like a clumsy raccoon. “No no no no—why? Why did I think this was a cool anime landing?”

Her legs kicked uselessly for a moment before she remembered: Oh, right. I can fly. And I can’t die. Chill.

She hovered there mid-air, arms flapping awkwardly, floating just above the branch like a confused balloon.

“Alright, priorities,” she muttered. “Step one: I need pants. Or, like, anything that isn’t this weird cultist bedsheet. I look like an underfunded magical girl on a laundry day.”

She glanced down at herself again. Her “clothing” was… barely an upper robe. Her entire lower half was exposed save for the minimal cloth barely doing its job of being a skirt. And it wasn’t even fashionable. One good gust of wind and she'd be the most infamous cult leader on the continent, but for the wrong reasons.

And shoes. God, shoes. She was tired of pretending she was okay with walking barefoot like some broke immortal hippie. Even if her skin didn’t bruise, the judgmental looks people gave you for being barefoot? Those left marks.

Fortunately, she remembered the one good thing in this weirdly curated nightmare of a church—her closet. Or more accurately, Pandora’s hoarder dragon cave of fashion and money. She’d discovered it last night: an entire chamber glittering with gold coins, bags of sapphires and rubies, gems shaped like stars and moons, and a weird glowing cube that she swore whispered “buy me” every few minutes.

She’d grabbed a pouch at random. It clinked. That was enough.

Now she just needed a town. Or a city. Somewhere she could get a cloak, boots, and maybe a weapon that didn’t scream “cult chic.”

She didn’t know the roads or directions, so she opted for the lazy but effective method. Three short teleport hops later—zigzagging over a mountain, then a river, then a wide forest—she arrived just outside the gates of the capital city of Lugunica. Its walls stretched high, white stones shimmering in the morning sun, with guard towers dotting the rim like watchful sentinels. Inside, she could already hear the sounds of the city awakening: bells, laughter, market cries, the rhythmic beat of horseshoes on cobbled roads.

And people. Lots of people.

Subaru barely had time to admire the place before someone from a small group nearby glanced her way. A man snorted and elbowed his friend. “Oi, check that one out. Looks like a runaway slave. Or some noble’s... entertainment.”

Subaru’s smile was strained. “Ha… ha… okay. Okay. Don’t incinerate the city, Subaru. You’re undercover. You’re cool. Chill.”

It was a rough start.

Still, the capital was stunning. Bustling streets of vendors selling fruits, fabrics, swords, and strangely shaped pastries. Beautiful stone buildings with slanted roofs and vines crawling up their sides. Carriages rattled by, and kids ran between stalls with wide grins.

Compared to her messed-up church lair, it was paradise.

Except the clothes. Everyone wore something different and far more covering. And stylish. She got more than a few strange looks, mostly for the robe that doubled as half a toga and her completely bare legs and feet. The guards started to approach her, eyebrows raised and hands inching toward their weapons.

“Name and purpose?” one asked.

Subaru locked eyes with him, smiled sweetly, and whispered, “Forget it.”

His pupils dilated for half a second. Then he blinked. “...You may pass.”

God bless brainwashing magic. She really hoped that wasn’t illegal.

After what felt like a pilgrimage across multiple districts (and getting lost twice), Subaru finally found it: a boutique shop tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, with mannequins in the window and a golden sign shaped like a swan.

She exhaled. “Finally.”

Chapter Text

Wardrobe Upgrade and Spying

As she entered the shop with a soft jingle from the bell above the door, Subaru barely had time to appreciate the polished wooden interior and the scent of lavender-scented linen before the owner glanced up from behind the counter and recoiled like she’d just spotted a cockroach in a bridal gown.

“Welcome, welcome—wait, why the hell are you here? You're getting no money here, get lost.”

Subaru blinked. Wow. That was fast. No small talk, no fake customer service smile. Straight to the roast.

She looked down at herself. Right. Fair. This body—Pandora’s body—was basically cosplaying as “escaped soap opera cultist” with a little “forgot her skirt” thrown in. A single strip of cloth loosely wrapped around her torso, and that was being generous. No shoes. No bag. No accessories. No dignity.

Okay, maybe she looked a bit like someone who would ask for free soup behind a tavern.

Still, Subaru composed herself. “I’m not a beggar,” she said smoothly. “I’m here to make a purchase.”

The woman snorted. “Pfft, with what? Labor? I doubt your frail limbs can lift a log. Or even a stool. What are you going to do, clean my windows with your tears?”

Oh, I could lift a mountain and yeet it into space, but sure, assume I’m malnourished.

But Subaru smiled instead. “With this.” She reached into her robe and produced the hefty pouch she’d taken earlier, the one that jangled like a treasure chest when moved. She let the drawstring slip open just enough for golden coins and a few blue gems to sparkle under the shop’s lighting.

The woman froze. “Huh? Where did you steal that from—?”

Subaru sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Very well. You fail.”

The woman blinked. “W-what?”

“I was sent by the Council,” Subaru began in the most bureaucratic, vaguely threatening tone she could manage. “To inspect merchant professionalism across top-tier boutique stores in the capital. And I must say, this shop has failed spectacularly in its first impression. A shame, really. I was hoping to leave a positive report.”

The woman’s face changed so fast it could’ve sprained something. “W-wait, no! Please! That was a mistake! A horrible mistake! I sell to nobles, to knights! My customer service is legendary! Please, allow me to show you.”

“Is it now?” Subaru asked, brow raised with just the right amount of menace and smug.

“Um… yes! Please, let me prove it! I’ll… I’ll personally assist you, of course!”

Subaru gave her a slow nod. “Very well. Let me experience it myself.”

And that, dear universe, was how Natsuki Subaru, formerly a confused teenage boy from Japan, now the most powerful undead time-resetting space-warping witch of probably all time, was about to buy her first set of clothes as a girl.

Or a witch.

Or both.

Ō—Ō

The shopkeeper gave Subaru a once-over and immediately wrinkled her nose, like she’d just spotted a stain on an antique tablecloth. “Right. First things first, take that off.”

Subaru blinked. “Pardon?”

“The... thing you're wearing. That sad excuse for fabric. Off. You can’t try anything on like that. And you’ll ruin the view for my customers if you keep walking around dressed like a fugitive from a laundry line.”

Subaru’s soul curled up and died a little. “R-right here?”

“Yes, where else?” The woman was already turning around and rummaging through a stack of linen.

Subaru stood frozen for a second. Okay. Chill. She was in a woman’s body. This was normal. Women changed in changing rooms. There was nothing weird about this.

Except it was her. Inside. And her being her, she was just now coming to terms with the fact that she even had thighs this smooth or hair that smelled like vanilla without conditioner.

Still, acting weird might raise suspicions. She didn’t want to brainwash the woman unless she absolutely had to. So she slowly untied the cloth and let it drop, trying to act as casual as someone disrobing in a medieval boutique for the first time could be.

She glanced toward the mirror. Great. A cups. Subaru sighed heavily, arms limp at her sides.

The shopkeeper turned back and froze, eyes flicking once, twice, very quickly over Subaru before she looked off to the side and coughed. “Huh. Your skin is… um… pale.”

Because I’m not alive, thank you very much.

“It’s a result of working as a spy for the Kingdom,” Subaru said calmly, because that sounded way cooler than technically undead witch impersonator.

“Oooh,” the woman nodded like it made perfect sense, pulling out the first set of garments.

First came the undergarments. Subaru was bracing herself for complicated strings and nonsense, but to her relief, the “panties” of this world were really just short frilly shorts—breathable, blessedly simple, and most importantly, they hid her butt. She bought three.

Next came the medieval take on a bra. Nothing fancy—just basic support for what little there was. Subaru didn’t complain. The shopkeeper, however, insisted she buy one fancier one. Lacy. With floral embroidery. “For formal occasions,” she said. Subaru didn’t know what occasion would require lacy armor for her nipples, but she agreed just to move on.

With the basics secured and shame temporarily locked in a mental box, they moved on to the real ordeal: outfits.

The woman pulled out dress after dress. Subaru had to politely decline anything that made her look like she’d trip over her own skirt or blend in at a royal ball. Corsets? Absolute hell. She tried one on, gasped like a deflating balloon, then ripped it off like it was made of poison ivy.

Eventually, she found her own rhythm.

A cropped top—white with subtle purple tones—that showed her belly but not too much. It was the best she could do in a woman’s boutique devoid of decent shirts. Then a pair of dark shorts, snug but comfortable. They didn’t ride up, which was a win. On top of that, a flowing orange overcoat that gave major “wandering mage protagonist” energy. She topped it all off with three pairs of black leggings and two pairs of sturdy lace-up boots that reached a few inches above the ankle.

She looked in the mirror.

“I look like Zero from Grimoire of Zero orange edition,” she murmured to herself, turning a little to the side. “Except with sky-blue eyes and platinum blonde hair…”

The reflection didn’t look half bad. Definitely not like someone who just escaped a mental ward with a stolen bedsheet.

After paying and nodding goodbye to the now extremely respectful shopkeeper, Subaru stepped outside. She didn’t carry the bags—they vanished into her personal time-space pocket. Very handy.

“Well,” she muttered, adjusting her coat with pride, “I guess now that I don’t look like a beggar who escaped from the mental asylum with a bedsheet, I should explore.”

Ō—Ō

The streets of the capital city were alive with color and noise. Subaru walked through cobblestone roads, flanked by rows of wooden buildings with curved tiled roofs, fluttering banners, and shopkeepers shouting out prices for everything from fruits to magic stones. The scent of grilled meats, baked bread, herbs, and... was that fried bat?—mixed into a heady perfume of fantasy-world charm.

Kids ran past her, laughing and chasing a ball that looked like a stitched bundle of leather. A group of teenage boys were arguing about who would become the next Royal Knight. Meanwhile, an old lady was selling charms with little bells, claiming they'd protect you from MaBeasts. Subaru bought one, smiling to herself. She clipped the little thing to her pouch. Why not? It jingled softly with each step.

She passed a perfume stall and immediately stopped. The glass bottles sparkled like gems in the sun, each filled with liquid of varying hues—amber, rose, ocean blue. The vendor, a flamboyant man with too much eyeliner and a colorful robe, sprayed a little on her wrist. Subaru sniffed. Floral with a citrus kick.

"Sold," she said, flipping a silver coin into his palm.

Next came a small jewelry stall tucked beside a bakery. Among the rows of rings and necklaces, one simple silver ring with a sky-blue gem caught her eye. She picked it up, staring at it. "This one's for you, Mom," she whispered to herself, thinking of Naoko's tired eyes that still sparkled when she smiled. She grabbed another one—a dark stone on a thick band. "And for you, Dad. You'd probably call it tacky, but you'd still wear it every day just to show off."

She bought a stack of folded shirts and cloaks, local fashion with embroidery of dragons and mountains. She grabbed trinkets too: wooden masks, incense sticks, a small enchanted music box that played a lullaby when she pressed a rune. All of it disappeared into her pouch, thanks to the dimensional magic her body now controlled like second nature. People barely noticed; she’d layered a subtle illusion over herself that dulled attention. Anyone who looked would simply assume she carried a normal-sized coin pouch. Perks of being an eldritch time-space witch.

Then—bump.

Subaru staggered a step back. “Ack—!”

A red-haired young man in polished white armor steadied her by the arm. His expression was calm, apologetic, and almost dazzlingly sincere.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, blue eyes kind and clear. “Are you hurt?”

Subaru brushed herself off and huffed. “No, just bumped, no blood or broken bones.”

“I’m relieved,” he nodded. “May I ask your name, miss?”

She blinked. Crap, don’t say Subaru! That’ll be weird!

“Pandora,” she said with a confident smile. “Just exploring the city. You know, shopping, sightseeing, eavesdropping on street gossip.”

He tilted his head. “Pandora? I see. Where are you from?”

She cleared her throat. “From... Japan.”

He blinked, polite confusion surfacing. “I’m not familiar with that. Is it a province within Lugunica?”

“No, it’s in Asia.”

“…And where is this Asia?”

“…Why are you asking so much from a poor girl?” she narrowed her eyes, stepping back dramatically. “Wait—don’t tell me! Are you a pervert?!”

“What? No!” he panicked immediately, both hands raised. “I apologize if I came off intrusive, I assure you I meant no offense.”

She squinted at him. "Hmm... real suspicious..."

“I—Really, I was just trying to be polite. You seemed unfamiliar with the area, and I thought I’d help.”

She smirked. "You're way too nice. That alone is suspicious."

“...You may have heard of me,” he said, recovering his composure with a sheepish smile. “I am Reinhard van Astarea. The Sword Saint.”

Subaru's face froze for a second. Ah. Crap. Sirius had mentioned that name. The biggest threat to the Witch Cult. The walking calamity-killer.

“Anyways,” she said, brushing off invisible dust from her sleeves, “I should get going. Lots to see, places to visit, innocent civilians to not kill, you know the drill.”

Reinhard nodded courteously. “Safe travels, Miss Pandora.”

She walked away calmly, heart pounding with a noted mix of anxiety and exhilaration.

Using her enhanced hearing, she picked up Reinhard’s voice a few paces away as he talked to a vendor. “—For Lady Felt. She likes the spicy jerky. And we’ll need extra cloaks for the trip to Priestella...”

Bingo.

Priestella. The place the cultists were planning to strike. Where Emilia would be. Where Sirius and Petelguese would likely make their move.

Subaru smirked.

“Perfect. I’ll let the chaos unfold… and then let Reinhard clean house.”

She patted her pouch, where a mountain of goodies now rested quietly in a pocket dimension. “Mission ‘Shopping Spree for Emotional Support’ complete. Now, onward to being the undercover boss of Armageddon.”

Ō—Ō

Subaru sat at a cozy little corner table in a restaurant that looked like a quaint blend of medieval charm and low-budget royal banquet. Lanterns dangled from twisted iron rods above, casting a soft golden glow over bowls of stew, crusty loaves of bread, and jugs of something that might have been wine or just watered-down fruit juice. Her meal was simple: grilled river fish, mashed root vegetables with herbs, and a pastry filled with something that tasted suspiciously like apple—but could’ve been fantasy-fruit No. 4 for all she knew.

She was halfway through licking gravy off her spoon when she spotted her.

Anastasia Hoshin.

Sitting two tables across, sipping tea like she owned the world—which, Subaru had to admit, she kind of did. The fox-furred shawl around her shoulders wasn’t for warmth. It was a declaration. Of fashion. Of authority. Of, yes, I am that rich. Even the fork she was using to slice through her cake seemed to know it belonged to nobility. Her hair—fluffy and white like a snow fox—bounced slightly with each dainty movement, and her piercing blue eyes scanned a letter her attendant handed her.

Subaru narrowed her eyes, chewing slowly as she observed. Anastasia Hoshin, royal candidate, genius merchant, political shark with the fashion sense of a drama villainess. Her aura was sharp. Subtle, but dangerous. And that scarf wasn’t just aesthetic either—it was a spirit. Dammit, even her accessories have a body count, Subaru thought grimly.

“She’s got charisma, money, influence... and a walking plushie that could probably disintegrate a mountain.” Subaru whispered to herself, poking at her mashed roots.

It was like watching a final boss sip tea.

Subaru looked down at herself. She wasn’t exactly slouching anymore—her new outfit screamed “mysterious and stylish mage with a secret past”—but sitting across from a woman who probably haggled with dragons and won made her feel... small.

Still, Subaru mused, I’m technically a witch of space-time with infinite retries and MaBeasts that treat me like their cosmic mom. So.

She casually adjusted the ring on her finger, glanced at Anastasia one more time, and internally made a note: Keep tabs on her. Anastasia might be the most dangerous person in the city... not because of power. But because she’s the kind who survives people with power.

Then her fish crunched in her mouth. Bones. “Ow—what kind of savage leaves bones in grilled fish?” she muttered.

Across the room, Anastasia sneezed daintily.

Subaru’s eyes widened. She heard that?!

No. That was ridiculous.

Right?

Ō—Ō

Subaru had just finished sipping the last of her juice—some citrus-berry blend that tasted like orange and mint had a lovechild—when she caught sight of a man barreling through the marketplace with the confidence of a war angel and the subtlety of a parade float.

The demihuman had broad, sculpted shoulders, a perfectly chiseled chest that shimmered in the afternoon sun, and wore nothing above the waist but a few belts and a head that screamed “I’m too cool for practicality.” People parted like waves before him, merchants calling his name—“Ricardo!”—as he offered to help haul crates or taste-test meat skewers like a market uncle on steroids.

Subaru blinked slowly. “Who the hell is this JoJo character?”

The sheer aura of “I can punch a wyvern and then flirt with its mother” radiating off him made her eyebrows twitch.

Still... it sparked a memory. Ricardo—wasn’t he the demi-human mercenary who worked for Crusch Karsten? Or was it Anastasia Hoshin? Subaru’s eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued.

Time to investigate.

She paid her bill, murmured a few words under her breath, and instantly shimmered out of visibility. She levitated smoothly upward, slipping between chimney smoke and seagulls until she hovered high above the stone streets, a ghost with great posture and better shoes.

Target: Crusch Karsten’s manor.

The estate wasn’t hard to find. Among the more stately neighborhoods, it stood out with disciplined architecture, rich emerald banners fluttering with the Karsten crest, and garden hedges trimmed into the shapes of lions and roses. The manor practically oozed nobility—calm, structured, a fortress of dignity and strength.

She phased through the outer walls and hovered silently above the inner courtyard. Knights sparred below, disciplined and precise. Servants bustled like a well-oiled machine. Everything screamed order.

And there she was.

Crusch Karsten.

Standing on the stone terrace, sword in hand, practicing with the elegance of a ballerina and the deadliness of a viper. Her long green hair tied back, sharp eyes focused, movements precise. Every motion of her blade carved the air with nobility and unwavering resolve.

Subaru hovered there, stunned for a moment.

She’s cool. Uncomfortably cool. The type of woman you want to marry and then realize she’ll be the one protecting you during a zombie apocalypse.

Crusch paused. Her eyes flicked upward slightly. Subaru felt her heart seize in panic. Did she sense me? No, can’t be. I'm invisible and phasing through dimensions. Right?

Crusch simply turned and walked back inside.

Subaru exhaled. “Too close,” she whispered to herself, gently lowering onto a nearby rooftop to think. Anastasia, Crusch, Reinhard... the pieces are moving. Priestella’s going to be a storm.

And right now? She was the quiet wind before it hit.

Chapter Text

The Tomb

Subaru soared above the clouds, the wind fluttering her coat dramatically like she was the protagonist of a magical girl anime with a very dark twist. Her flight path stretched eastward, over forests and winding rivers, toward the land under the control of the Mathers family.

The Mathers Domain.

The sprawling estate was nestled between misty woods and cold stone cliffs, a gothic mansion peeking out from an eerie expanse that screamed “yes, this is where cursed things happen.” And it didn’t disappoint.

She hovered cautiously as she approached the estate and spotted the infamous master of the house lounging on a stone balcony.

A clown. No, seriously.

Rosewall L. Mathers, decked out like a stage magician who accidentally time-traveled, had tea in one hand and a grimoire in the other. His golden eyes casually flicked toward the sky—no, not the sky. Her.

Subaru instinctively froze mid-air. Did he see me?

His lips curled into an amused chuckle, and he went right back to reading like spotting interdimensional flying girls was just part of his Tuesday. Subaru narrowed her eyes. That man gave her the creeps.

She turned her attention elsewhere and found a strange room—no, a space-time anomaly—connected to the mansion. An entire library, sealed and suspended inside the distorted folds of magic. Floating down carefully and phasing through the door, she peeked inside.

A girl. Blonde. Small. Reading quietly on a tower of books.

Her face was stoic, her dress immaculate, and the air around her cold. Subaru hovered closer and read the title of the tome she held upside down. Of course—Beatrice.

“Jeez,” Subaru mumbled under her breath, “couldn’t be more loli if she tried.”

Back in the main halls, she spotted two more residents: the twin maids. One with pink hair and a knife-like stare; the other with blue hair and a soft aura that did not match the massive spiked morning star she was casually cleaning.

Ram and Rem, Subaru recalled from intels, quietly phasing away before one of them sneezed and accidentally killed her out of reflex.

And then—finally—her.

Emilia.

Silver hair shimmered in the sunlight like spun moonlight. She stood in the courtyard, practicing gentle ice magic with the grace of a heroine on a snowy stage. A small flying creature danced around her, ears twitching.

“Come on, Lia, center your mana,” said the creature, hovering near her shoulder. “You’re getting distracted again.”

“I know, I know, Puck... I just...” Emilia’s violet eyes swept across the air, narrowing slightly. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

Subaru tensed.

Puck tilted his head. “There’s nobody here.”

“I guess... maybe it’s just nerves.”

Subaru held her breath, floating silently just a few meters above.

She really is the protagonist, Subaru thought, chest tightening unexpectedly. Like, actual good vibes. Heroine energy. I... kind of get why everyone’s obsessed with her.

Subaru began to pull away—mission accomplished—when suddenly her own voice, quiet and deranged, whispered out of her mouth: “Muahaha...”

Oh no.

“I feel like somebody just laughed,” Emilia said, spinning around.

“It must be your imagination, Lia,” said Puck with a lazy yawn.

“I guess...”

Subaru shot up into the clouds like a rocket, hands clutched to her face. Note to self: mute maniacal laughter when spying!

But even as she fled, a fire burned in her chest. In Priestella, she’ll protect them all. No one will die. No one.

Not on her watch.

Not while she had this ridiculous amount of power.

Not while she—Pandora, Witch of Vainglory—was the one in charge.

Ō—Ō

In the Village of the Mathers Domain, Arlam village, Subaru strolled through the cobblestone streets with a serenity she hadn’t known in a long time. Her cloak fluttered behind her as she laughed alongside a small group of children who had gathered around her like ducklings. One bold little girl tugged at the edge of her overcoat. “Miss! Miss! You’re so pretty! Are you a princess?”

Subaru squatted down, grinning. “What gave it away? The royal aura? Or the sky-blue eyes of mystery?”

The kids laughed and shouted, “Both!” and then pestered her to play. So, she did. Hide and seek became the game of the hour, and though she could phase through trees, see through illusions, and bend time itself, she let them win a few rounds to keep the spirit alive.

But then—just a little flair—she tapped her fingers together and lifted a kid in the air, letting him hover like a balloon. “Wooaaah!” the boy shrieked in delight. She made a slide out of bent wood, spiraling from a tree’s trunk, and conjured sparkling butterflies out of sticks and pebbles. Nothing too crazy. Just enough to make them giggle and shout that she was “the coolest witch ever.”

It felt good. Warm. Familiar. Nostalgic. Almost like the life she could’ve had.

But that warmth was pierced by something sharp.

Her smile slowly faded. A low vibration crawled under her skin—the telltale itch in her gut. Her Witch senses were flaring. Something… wrong. Nearby. Sin Archbishop wrong.

She tensed, her eyes narrowing toward the forest at the village’s edge. But before she could move, a different signal rang out—more feral, more primal. MaBeasts. Not just one. Dozens.

She stood up, brushing her coat. “Sorry, kids. Mama’s gotta go do some pest control.”

“Bye, Miss Pretty Witch!”

“Come back soon!”

She waved, then with a single leap, vanished into the dense foliage of the woods.

The moment her boots touched the mossy ground, the growls erupted.

Snarls, snarls, and more snarls—wolf-like MaBeasts, their glowing red eyes leaking something black and foul. Corruption. They lunged from the underbrush.

“Hai, hai! Come to mama—”

Teeth sank into her shoulder. Claws ripped through her stomach. Jaws tore at her throat. Blood sprayed across the roots and moss.

Death was instantaneous.

And then—return.

She reappeared above the treetops, hovering effortlessly. Her limbs were intact again. Her expression was blank. “Huh,” she murmured, looking down at the snarling swarm still pacing the bloodstained forest floor. “Weren’t MaBeasts supposed to like me?”

They didn’t just not like her. They hated her. Their eyes—twisted, spiraling with madness—not natural. Something was wrong.

“Someone’s been meddling...”

She frowned, and with one thought, the pack collapsed like marionettes cut from their strings. Dozens of corpses thudded into the forest floor. All except one.

She floated down, stepping in front of the last one—shivering, still alive. It looked up at her with confused horror, as if regaining itself briefly. She knelt down, her voice low. “Who was controlling you?”

The MaBeast backed away in panic, but she flicked her fingers. With a soft pop, it vanished—now trapped in her personal pocket dimension. She’d extract answers later.

But the pull of that other, deeper presence was still there. That odd ripple of magic, like something ancient had cracked open in the forest. Subaru walked, trees parting for her presence, leaves whispering around her ankles. The air changed gradually—thickened. A barrier. Strong one. Laced with sacred runes. Something meant to keep evil out.

She blinked once, and walked right through it like smoke through fingers.

Eventually, the forest opened into a clearing. And there it stood.

A structure—ancient, overgrown, towering like a forgotten temple. Stone pillars half-eaten by moss. Etchings of serpents and runes she couldn’t read. At the center, a shrine. A grave. Of someone important. Of someone powerful.

A Witch, perhaps?

Then—crunch.

She turned sharply, becoming invisible again just in time. Footsteps.

A voice called out, rough and wild. “I can smell ya’, ya’know! Show yourself!”

A boy stepped into the clearing. Tall, muscular, shirtless despite the chill. Blonde hair spiked wild like a lion’s mane, a jagged scar running down his face. Sharp canines gleamed when he spoke. A demihuman. Beast blood in his veins.

His eyes scanned the trees. “Nobody enters ‘ere without permission!” His tail twitched.

Subaru narrowed her eyes, floating silently, unseen. Who was this guy?

“SANCTUARY’S OFF LIMITS, YA HEAR ME?!” the voice boomed through the trees like a thunderclap, sharp with youthful rage and raw power. Subaru hovered silently above the tree line, watching as the boy stomped through the underbrush like a one-man stampede. “I SWEAR ON GRANNY’S NAME, I’LL RIP YA TO SHREDS IF YA DON’T COME OUT!”

Ah. Subaru tilted her head with a soft sigh. There it was again. That good old light novel volume-three energy. Muscles? Check. Anger issues? Check. Absolute inability to hold a conversation without yelling? Triple check.

From the flurry of obscenities and self-praise, she’d pieced it together—his name was Garfiel. And if he was to be believed, he was “the strongest.” Of course he was. She gave it five more seconds before he broke a tree out of sheer principle.

“You’re seriously still yelling?” she muttered. “Okay, fine. Let’s play.”

With a flourish, she dispelled her invisibility and gracefully landed in front of him, boots hitting the stone ground of the clearing. Her platinum hair caught the light and shimmered faintly, her coat billowing like a character reveal in a shounen anime.

Garfiel skidded to a halt, claws extended. “The fuck are you, bitch?!”

Subaru tilted her head and smiled serenely. “Calm down, booooy~”

Her voice was gentle, almost musical. It pissed him off more.

“I am Pandora. From the—”

“DON’T CARE WHO YA ARE, BUT DIE—!”

He lunged like a bullet, claws slicing through the air—and straight through her. Blood sprayed, her body collapsed.

Then—she reappeared. Floating again. Unbothered.

“Boy, listen—”

He tore her apart again. And again. And again. Each time, she reappeared midair, calmly brushing nonexistent dust from her clothes like nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Garfiel was beginning to pant. Hard. His bare chest rising and falling with exertion.

Her expression didn’t change. In fact, she looked bored.

“Are you done?”

He stumbled back, eyes wide. “The... the fuck… a-are you, bitch…?”

She landed again, this time with her arms folded, head slightly cocked in that 'I’m an overpowered final boss, but also your mom' posture. “My name is Pandora. I’m from the land of Angels. Nihon, or as some call it… Japan.”

“Japan? Angels?” he spat, half-dizzy. “Stop bluffin’. Ya got tricks, that’s it.”

“It is true,” she said sweetly, then narrowed her eyes just a touch. “I was told you apparently have anger issues because you have daddy issues—apologies—anger issues. So, I came to help.”

Garfiel froze.

His left eye twitched.

“The fuck ya just say, bitch?”

Subaru gave a patient smile. “You heard me. Daddy issues. Which, honestly, I get. Very relatable. Not everyone gets to grow up with loving parents and a stable childhood.”

Garfiel growled, lunging again. Her head flew off this time.

Subaru reappeared beside him, sitting on a tree stump like she was sipping tea in a garden. “Honestly, if you're going to keep murdering me, at least get creative. Maybe try a dramatic monologue or scream my name in slow motion.”

“SHUT UP!” he snarled and slashed again. Torso. Legs. Arms. Bits flew.

Reappeared. Yawned. Adjusted her coat.

Another slash.

Poof. Still alive.

Another.

Reappear. Hair still perfect.

Garfiel finally dropped to his knees, breath ragged, claws twitching. “Why… why won’t ya die?!”

She walked over, crouched down, and gently patted his head. “Let it all go.”

He flinched, but didn’t move. Her hand was warm. Soft. Confusing.

“Let it all go,” she repeated, quieter this time. “No more screaming. No more rage. Just… stop.”

He didn’t reply. But he didn’t strike either.

Subaru watched his eyes. The way they twitched, burned, flickered with the kind of agony that didn’t come from pain but from memory. And something inside her twisted. She hated this. Not his pain. Not the situation. But the fact that a part of her—deep, shadowy, rooted in her chest—enjoyed this. The suffering. The control. The moment of cracking someone and watching the flood spill out.

Was that Vainglory? The real Pandora's influence? Was she… still inside this body somewhere?

Still, she kept her hand on his head. Her aura shifted, from serene to comforting. A sense of warmth, motherly affection, like a soft lullaby on a lonely night.

And then he broke.

He cried. Hard. Loud. Incoherent sobs like a child lost in the woods. Subaru let him bury his face in her coat, and she gently stroked his head, saying nothing. Just letting him fall apart.

“She was here,” he mumbled. “Mama… Raela… She was here ten years ago.”

Subaru's ears perked up. She didn’t interrupt.

“She was gonna leave… She had to… to protect me an’ Fred. And then… then she was gone. Vanished. People said she dead but—” he choked, “—we never found the body. Never knew. And now… now I guard this place so no one else leaves. If she comes back… I want to be here.”

Subaru paused. “If your mother’s alive… would you want to see her again?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah… but she’s dead.”

She pressed her hand to his forehead. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Her eyes glowed. A spark of divine light pierced Garfiel’s memories. Faces, voices, scenes—Raela’s face surfaced, like a photograph buried in ash. With it came the unmistakable aura that tugged at Subaru’s space-time senses.

Huh. She didn’t have this power a moment ago. A full planetary scan? How OP was she now?

The moment she saw the aura match—platinum-blonde woman, similar eyes, folding laundry by a riverside in Priestella—she didn’t hesitate.

Snap.

The world folded, cracked, bent.

And a woman suddenly stood in the clearing beside them, holding a wet shirt, eyes wide. “Huh? Where… where am I?”

“Mama?” Garfiel’s voice broke.

“Gah! Who are you people? What’s happening?!”

Subaru stepped forward and tapped Raela’s forehead gently. “Un-jam,” she whispered.

The woman blinked. The world shifted behind her eyes. She looked down.

“…Gar?”

“Mama!” He launched into her arms, crying again. This time with joy.

Subaru smiled, slowly stepping back. With a shimmer, she vanished from sight, invisible once more. She turned toward the direction of the tomb, her boots crunching gently on the forest floor.

Let’s see what’s waiting in there.

Ō—Ō

Inside the tomb, darkness clung to the walls like wet silk, the air thick with ancient mana and an eerie quiet that clung to every surface. Subaru’s boots made not a single sound. Not because she was light-footed, but because the tomb didn’t allow noise. It devoured it. The stone corridors curled into shifting mazes, dead ends appearing and disappearing, illusions of walls turning into real ones. Still, she moved like she had the blueprints etched into her mind. Every twist, every hidden passage—she passed them effortlessly, guided not by sight, but by some deep witchly instinct.

And then—what the hell?

A chamber opened before her, wider than any room yet, and inside stood—no, marched—an army of short girls. Not just any girls. Elf girls. Every single one of them had bubblegum-pink hair tied up into buns or twin tails, wore the same high-collared black cloaks, and had cold, expressionless faces. Silent. Coordinated. Creepy.

Subaru instinctively flattened herself against the wall and cloaked her presence. They moved in unison, patrolling, guarding something. Like cursed dolls given life. A few of them passed mere inches from her.

Okay. That was new. Nobody said anything about adorable murder-elf squads living in an ancient tomb.

She tiptoed past, suppressing every breath, until she reached the heart of the tomb. A circular chamber lit by glowing blue glyphs. It had no door. Just space. Open and waiting.

At the center, atop a raised stone platform, lay a woman.

Subaru approached, eyes narrowing. The woman’s body was preserved in a state of stillness, not death. Time had halted around her like glass mid-shatter. She wore an elegant black dress, the hem embroidered with runes older than any Subaru had seen. Her face was deeply wrinkled, skin pale like wax, but there was something deliberate about the way she lay. As if she'd chosen it.

Subaru leaned closer. “Who the hell…?”

“Ah, Pandora, it’s been a while,” said a voice, calm, sharp, female—everywhere.

Subaru spun. “What—who said that?!”

The room rippled. Floor, walls, platform—gone. The world tilted and collapsed, and she was no longer underground but standing in an impossibly vast green field, hills rolling in every direction. The sky shimmered silver like liquid starlight.

In the middle of the meadow sat a pristine white round table, surrounded by high-backed chairs. And there, sitting elegantly in one of them, was the woman she had just seen lying frozen on that table. Alive. Younger—though still aged—with sharp eyes that glittered like black glass. She held a delicate teacup, steam wafting from it.

She didn’t even glance up. “Are you only going to stare? Won’t you come close?”

Subaru blinked. “Huh? Oh. I guess.”

Chapter Text

With Two Psychopaths

As Subaru eased into the pristine white chair across from the strange woman, she maintained a perfectly serene expression—chin slightly raised, lips poised in a graceful smile. But inside, it was utter chaos.

Okay, okay, relax. This is just a totally normal tea party in the middle of an impossibly magical grassland dreamscape with a creepy lady who may or may not be dead. No big deal. Just don't choke, stammer, or explode in witch-flavored sparkles. Smile. Be graceful. Be elegant. Be— oh my god what if this is how Pandora actually drank tea? What if I’m supposed to levitate it into my mouth with mana? WHAT IF THIS IS A TEST?!

The woman, hands folded beneath her chin, watched her with a knowing smile. Her long, white hair shimmered faintly under the false sky, and her black gown rustled faintly, as if touched by a breeze that didn’t exist.

“How long has it been?” she asked, voice as smooth as falling snow.

“Uh… not sure,” Subaru replied, scratching the back of her head sheepishly. “Time is kinda’ funny for me. Like, haha, funny. Not funny-funny.”

“Tea?” the woman offered, gesturing to a delicate porcelain pot that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Ah, sure,” Subaru nodded, feigning ease while trying to stop her knees from bouncing under the table.

The tea was poured. Pale and steaming, it smelled oddly floral, yet somehow… suspicious. Subaru stared at it with one eye narrowed.

“Drink it,” the woman said gently. “It’s made of my—”

“Uh…” Subaru brought the cup to her lips hesitantly.

“—body fluids, after all.”

Pfffffft— Subaru immediately sprayed the tea across the table and directly into the woman’s face.

The woman didn’t flinch. She merely closed her eyes, wiped a finger down her cheek, and smiled.

“Pandora, dear friend,” she began again, unfazed.

“Yeah?” Subaru replied, now sweating even more and trying to casually wipe her mouth with her sleeve.

“Since when did you start giving your bodies to other people?”

Oh crap.

“Since… recently?” Subaru tried to laugh. “New year, new me?”

“Excuse me, but who are you really?”

Subaru took a long, dramatic sip of tea again, grimacing slightly. “Before we get to that— Echidna, right?”

The woman gave a small bow. “Ah, how rude of me. I am Echidna, the Witch of Greed.”

Subaru blinked. “Cool. What the actual hell.”

“You seem surprised, but you shouldn’t be. After all, I’ve been keeping an eye on you for quite some time. Your actions, your speech… gave it away that you’re not the real Pandora.”

“Okay, first of all,” Subaru leaned in, “that’s creepy. Why were you spying on me?”

“Oh dear,” Echidna said sweetly. “You have no idea. But my answer?”

“Before that,” Subaru raised a finger, “just to clarify. You’re dead, right?”

“Yes,” Echidna replied, sipping her tea as though discussing the weather.

“And this place is?”

“A mental space. You might say it’s a pocket of the mind.”

“Great. Cool. Mental tea party.” Subaru nodded. “So you can’t actually harm me?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re a witch?”

“A fair point. But no, I’m not strong enough to harm you in here.”

Subaru sighed in relief, pushed her chair back, stood, cocked her hip sassily and thrust a finger toward the sky.

“Yosh! I am Natsuki Subaru! Not only am I very confused why the hell I’m in another world in the body of a witch, leading a bunch of cult lunatics, but apparently, I have superpowers now!”

Echidna blinked. Smiled.

Subaru held the pose for an awkward moment longer before slumping slightly.

“...That’s concerning,” the Witch of Greed finally said.

“I KNOW RIGHT?!” Subaru shouted, throwing her hands up.

“But,” Echidna continued, setting her cup down with a click, “that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Huh?”

“You see,” she said, her tone now colder, darker, “another person is not very happy that you’re here… like this.”

Subaru tilted her head. “Another person?”

Then, from somewhere far beyond the hills, a voice echoed faintly on the wind.

“I love you… I love you…”

Subaru turned her head sharply.

“Huh?”

The horizon began to darken—clouds spilling in like black ink—choking out the silver sky. The air turned heavy, pulsing.

Subaru gulped, feeling her body tense. Something—someone—was coming.

"Who... is that?" Subaru said, her voice quieter than she'd intended. She took a slow step back, her ears twitching like a nervous animal's. "Sounds like someone trying to make out with a broken tap recorder."

Echidna chuckled, fingers elegantly turning her teacup. “Ah, that’s Tella—well, that’s what Typhon calls her. Cute, isn’t it?”

“Tella?” Subaru repeated. The name sounded almost too innocent for the dread it conjured.

“Yes,” Echidna said, placing her cup down with a gentle clink. “You may know her as... Satella.”

Time stopped. The grass, the sky, even the birds that were fake but had been chirping all this time seemed to go mute. Subaru didn’t breathe. Her mind reeled.

Satella. The Witch of Envy. The one responsible for dragging me into this world. The one that wants to hug me to death. That Satella.

“Ah, crap. Nope. Nope. Not today.” Subaru turned around, snapping his fingers. “Portal. Open sesame. Take me back to literally anywhere else. Preferably my bed, with a kotatsu and my mom’s curry.”

Nothing happened.

“Okay, okay, that was the flashy version. Let’s go with ‘Teleport – Emergency Escape Plan Omega 3!’”

Nothing. Not even a spark.

“Uh. Excuse me?” Subaru looked at her hand, then at the space around her, then back at Echidna, who was calmly pouring a third cup of tea. “HELLO?! What the hell is this?”

“It appears,” Echidna said slowly, stirring in sugar as though she weren’t dropping a bombshell, “that Satella wishes to have a conversation with you. Peacefully, I imagine. Probably. And so, she’s... prevented you from leaving.”

“PEACEFULLY?!” Subaru screeched. “Peacefully like a cat peacefully playing with a dying mouse? Peacefully like a horror game NPC whose hugs result in permadeath?!”

“She’s not that bad.”

“She’s blocking my dimension magic. I AM PANDORA. You know how hard that is?!” Subaru flailed. “It’s like using a Wi-Fi jammer to block NASA. What even is this power scaling?!”

Echidna sipped her tea, unconcerned. “Impressive, isn’t she?”

“No! Terrifying! Terrifying is the word!”

Subaru dropped to her knees dramatically, grabbing onto Echidna’s sleeves. “Please! Echidna-sensei! Great Tea One! Witch of Snark and Sass! Help me escape this hell!”

Echidna looked down at her with a small frown. “You’re wrinkling the fabric.”

Subaru instantly adjusted her grip. “Please! Use your unlimited tea-based omniscience and get me out of here! I don’t care if I have to sit through five volumes of your lectures again, I will do anything—”

“Ah, that’s nice,” Echidna said, standing up and adjusting her skirt. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare tea for our... incoming guest.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Subaru’s eyes bugged out as Echidna picked up an extra cup from a tea cabinet that had somehow manifested itself next to the table. “You’re not helping me?! You’re hosting her?!”

“Well, it would be rude not to,” Echidna said primly. “I may be dead, but I’m not uncivilized. She’s a guest, after all.”

“You want me to sit here and sip mystery tea made from your body fluids while Miss Murderous Hugs walks up to me?! What’s next? Finger sandwiches made from actual fingers?!”

“I do have some,” Echidna murmured thoughtfully.

Subaru screamed internally and externally. “I’m not prepared! I haven’t even written my will! Or figured out if my death resets still work with a new body! I don’t even know if I bleed anymore or just leak sparkles!”

“Oh hush,” Echidna said with a wave of her hand. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t say anything stupid. Or look too delicious. Or try to run.”

“I will say stupid things on instinct!” Subaru cried. “And you know what else I do on instinct? Die! Horribly! Violently! Repeatedly!”

As Subaru scrambled behind a chair, using it as a pathetic shield, she heard a whisper, so soft it brushed her earlobe like a lover’s breath.

“Subaru-kun?”

Every muscle in her body locked up. Her eyes widened. Her throat made a faint krrrkkk noise.

Behind her, the air was suddenly colder. More real. Like the rest of the dreamscape had always been a backdrop and this... this was reality forcing itself into a play.

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t breathe.

But she felt it. A presence that wrapped around her like velvet and iron. That pulsed with love so fierce it shattered sanity.

“Subaru-kun,” the voice whispered again.

Subaru thought he could hear a smile in it. A tragic, wide smile that stretched far past reason.

Uh-oh.

Subaru awkwardly lifted her hand and gave a stiff wave, like a malfunctioning animatronic at a haunted amusement park. “H-hey... Satella. Long time no see? Heh.”

The towering woman stepped forward from the swirling cloud of dark mist, her figure tall and solemn. She wore what looked like a black wedding dress, elegant yet haunting, the fabric flowing behind her like it was made from the night sky itself. Her face remained hidden beneath a shadowy veil, but the glowing purple hue of her eyes pierced through, locking onto Subaru like a predator gazing at its favorite prey.

She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she reached out, almost reverently, and took Subaru’s hand in her own. Her touch was surprisingly soft, but chilled like ice that had learned to feel heartbreak.

“Subaru-kun,” she murmured. “Your body is... cold.”

“Uh, yeah, well...” Subaru tried to gently pull her hand away, but she held firm. “That’s probably because this body I’m in... is technically dead?”

Satella’s head tilted slightly, as if trying to process something both confusing and heartbreaking. “Why are you... with Pandora, Subaru-kun?” Her voice cracked with the sound of betrayal.

“Uhhh...” Subaru scratched her head with her free hand, sweat now leaking from every pore. “I dono— I just woke up like this, in a church or something. Almost naked—”

The words had barely left his mouth before he realized. Big mistake. Huge.

“You were in Pandora’s body... naked?” Her tone dropped to a whisper of pain, soft enough to melt glaciers, devastating enough to level cities.

“ALMOST naked! Like, you know how Pandora used to wear that weird white sheet thing? The one that covers everything except, like, her ankles? Not my fault! I wasn’t looking! I mean— I was the body, not looking at the body, and—”

She turned to Echidna in a panic, whispering through clenched teeth. “Why is she upset that I was in Pandora’s body?!”

Echidna, now sipping tea with the poise of someone watching the finale of a dramatic soap opera, whispered back, “She might have a crush on you.”

“The Witch of Envy has a crush on me?!” Subaru blurted, voice rising in pitch like a squeaky balloon.

Satella’s eyes widened under the veil, her fingers trembling as she held tighter onto his hand. “I love you, Subaru-kun. It must be painful... to be in that body.”

“Oh yeah, you’re telling me! I mean, no offense to Pandora, but I lost my entire Subaru Jr. situation. Like, I’ve got boobs now. And they’re tiny. Like A cup. Bro. I can’t even—”

“I’ll help you,” Satella said softly, her tone full of pure devotion. “I’ll separate you from this body.”

Subaru blinked. “Thanks—wait, what?! No, no no no! That sounds way too extreme! Let’s not do the whole soul-ripping thing—”

“You won’t even feel anything.”

She raised her hand, and before he could protest further, Subaru’s entire body twisted in pain. It was unlike anything he had felt since arriving in this world. Her very essence felt like it was being yanked out through a sieve.

She screamed—then died.

And reappeared. Floating. In pain.

“OH MY GOD!” Subaru cried, curling up mid-air. “WHY WAS THAT SO PAINFUL?! I HAVEN’T FELT PAIN IN THIS BODY SINCE I CAME HERE!”

Satella looked genuinely distressed. “That... didn’t work?”

“OF COURSE IT DIDN’T WORK! YOU TORE MY SOUL OUT THROUGH MY BELLY BUTTON! I HAD TO FORCE REWIND TIME IN A BODY THAT DOESN’T BLEED!”

“I’ll try again.”

“WHAT?!”

Before she could run, scream, or emotionally blackmail her with tears, she waved her hand again.

Rip.

Death.

Respawn.

Rip.

“STOP—!”

Respawn.

Rip.

Echidna had pulled out a little leather diary and a quill, lazily jotting down notes as if observing a science experiment. “Hmm... Subject remains unusually resilient to spiritual separation. Likely due to foreign soul entrenchment. Fascinating.”

Subaru, now face-down on the grass, wheezing, eyes twitching. “You’re enjoying this?! HELP ME—"

Satella’s hands were glowing again.

“No, no, no—wait, I have cookies! Echidna! Cookies! Save me—!"

And again, everything went white.

Ō—Ō

Subaru’s skin was already pale to begin with, but now? Now she looked like a haunted bedsheet that had been soaked in bleach and fear. Her arms dangled at her sides like limp noodles, eyes wide with trauma, twitching slightly with every faint sound, every shadow, every waft of wind that smelled remotely like death or black tea.

Satella stood a few paces away, the swirling dark mist around her now more like a guilt-ridden fog than a menacing storm. Her voice trembled with sorrow, “I’m so sorry, Subaru-kun... I tried a hundred times but I still couldn’t save you…”

“You didn’t save me, you murdered me. One hundred and thirteen times,” Subaru croaked, her soul practically leaking out of her mouth with every word.

Echidna, ever unbothered, tapped her pen against her chin. “You know, you could try ripping out her organs next. Might be more direct.”

Satella’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I’ll try—”

“WAIT—NO—GAH!”

Thirteen kills later, the witch known as Pandora—currently Subaru, formerly a guy with dreams and dignity—hovered back into existence with a flaming aura of rage. Her hair was frazzled, one of her shoes was missing, and her left eyebrow had developed a permanent twitch.

“How can you be so cruel?!” she shouted, her voice breaking into a squeak near the end.

Satella’s hands slowly lowered, her expression filled with regret. “I was just trying to help you, Subaru-kun…”

“Help my ass! You’ve been using me as your personal piñata! I counted! One hundred and thirteen different ways to die! You slammed me, squished me, dissolved me, exploded me, and what was with that time you launched me into space?!”

Echidna hummed thoughtfully, flipping open a small black journal. “I actually have a list—one million ways to kill a person. I’m only on page 67. Want to see?”

“Shut up, witch of rotten tea cups!”

“It’s Greed,” she replied with a proud little smirk.

“Whatever!” Subaru huffed, floating higher in the air to bring herself to Satella’s eye level. “Why is Pandora’s body so short?! I feel like a balloon in heels!”

She pointed a trembling finger at Satella. “You! Sit. Sit your creepy ghost bride butt down right now.”

Satella, as if scolded by a particularly stern kindergarten teacher, plopped down like a guilty child caught stealing cookies. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes wide and innocent under the veil.

“Okay...” she whispered.

Subaru paced in the air, arms flailing like an angry goose. “Now—talk. Why? Why in all the hells and heavens and isekai tropes are you so OBSESSED with ME?!”

Satella tilted her head, that eerie calm returning. “Why would I not be obsessed with you?”

Subaru squawked, “Why would you be?! I was just some ordinary boy with a bad luck streak and a thing for light novels! And now I’ve lost my manhood, have cold skin, boobs the size of grapes, and oh! I’m also apparently the frickin’ leader of a cult that worships you!” She wheezed and jabbed her thumb into her chest.

Satella blinked. “You joined my cult, Subaru?”

“Why do you sound happy about that?! I didn’t join it! I woke up as PANDORA—THE WITCH OF VAINGLORY—who is apparently your number-one fangirl and the leader of the Witch Cult!”

Satella’s eyes sparkled. “You’re the leader of my cult...”

“I SAID IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE!”

Off to the side, Satella turned slightly and whispered to Echidna, “Why is he so angry?”

Echidna flipped another page in her journal, not looking up. “It’s not he anymore. It’s she. Get with the program.”

“THANK YOU, SOMEONE’S PAYING ATTENTION,” Subaru snarled, arms raised to the heavens. “AND STOP BEING MORONS!”

The wind howled around them. The grass rustled. A bird far, far away dropped dead from sheer secondhand embarrassment. Echidna quietly took a sip of tea, Satella folded her hands like a nun, and Subaru’s eye twitched so violently it could generate electricity.

Subaru threw her arms out again, floating above the surreal mental meadow like a possessed ghost-child. “For the love of everything holy and unholy, can someone please tell me WHY you’re so obsessed with me?!”

Satella tilted her veiled head, mist swirling lovingly around her feet. Her hands folded neatly in her lap as she replied with the calmness of someone discussing the weather. “Because you are my Fugal.”

“…What.”

“My Fugal.”

“Who the hell is—?” Subaru’s words trailed off as her memories churned. Somewhere, buried beneath a dozen screaming cultists and a whole lot of murder attempts, one of the brainwashed maniacs had mentioned it: Fugal, the Great Sage. One of the legendary three heroes who had sealed Satella away 400 years ago.

“Wait—no. No. I’m not Fugal!”

“Yes, you are,” Satella insisted gently, as if soothing a tantruming child. “You died. And were reborn in another world. As Natsuki Subaru. On… Arth?”

“It’s Earth, damn it. Earth!” Subaru snapped. “And what do you mean I’m the reincarnation of your ex?!”

Satella blinked innocently. “We never broke up.”

Subaru’s eye twitched. Her brain spiraled into chaos. “Oh fuck me.”

“No,” Satella said seriously, voice colder than usual. “I would never engage in any intimate actions with you in that body.”

Subaru clutched her head. “Oh my god. Please. Someone. Kill me.”

“With pleasure,” Echidna sang sweetly, hurling a dagger with a flick of her wrist.

It struck Subaru dead-center in the forehead. The world blinked, and a moment later, she respawned beside them, floating midair with a withering look on her face. “I hate you.”

Echidna sipped her tea with a serene smile. “Mm-hmm.”

Subaru turned to Satella with an exhausted sigh, arms hanging like deflated balloons. “Alright. Fine. We’ve covered the fact that I’m your maybe-ex-who’s-not-an-ex. But I’ve got one major question left: why—out of all the people in this damned universe—did I wake up as Pandora?”

Satella looked up at the sky in thought, as if the clouds might provide an answer. “Maybe… the world felt like it?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Or maybe the stars aligned and thought, ‘Subaru would look nice with white hair today!’” she added, clasping her hands dreamily.

“…Huh.”

“Or maybe the universe rolled a dice and landed on ‘girl boss transformation’?”

“…You are insane.”

Satella giggled lightly. “Only for you.”

Echidna cleared her throat dramatically, standing up and brushing off her skirt with dignity. “If you’re finished with your unhelpful fanfiction-tier rambling, allow me.” She raised a finger. “Pandora has always been… unusually curious. Nosy, really. Especially about you. She was fascinated by Satella’s obsession and what made you so… different.”

Subaru blinked. “You mean she was stalking me?”

“More like observing. Through holes in time and the boundary between worlds.” Echidna shrugged. “Anyway, my theory? At some point, she must have gotten the bright idea: What if I bring Satella’s little crush into this world… inside my own body?”

Subaru’s brain froze. “So, she… she literally set me up to be Satella’s fantasy waifu?”

“Seems likely,” Echidna said.

“And she did it by yeeting my soul into her own corpse?”

“Exactly.”

Subaru stared blankly into the void. “You know what? That… actually makes a terrifying amount of sense.”

Subaru sighed, rubbing her temples like a tired office worker two minutes into overtime. “We’ll talk about this whole reincarnated-boyfriend-inside-a-dead-witch thing later. Right now, I have a more pressing issue.”

Satella tilted her head. “More pressing than your identity crisis?”

“Yes! There’s a lunatic death cult out there. A literal terrorist group run by fugitives from a supernatural mental asylum, and they think I’m their messiah! That’s kind of a problem!”

Echidna sipped her tea and hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds rough and tough. Have you considered… making a contract with me?”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t need to. It’s a hard pass. The last time someone offered me a ‘contract’ I ended up time-looping to death and traumatizing half a kingdom.”

“Fair. But mine comes with unlimited knowledge.”

“And unlimited headaches. No, thank you.”

Echidna reached into the air and pulled out a scroll anyway. “Just read it. A skim, even. You might like the font.”

Subaru crossed her arms. “Is it cursed?”

“Not much.”

“Pass.”

Echidna pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’ve died 113 times in the last hour and a half. Fun left the building somewhere between my third dismemberment and that time Satella tried to exorcise my soul with affection.”

Satella looked down guiltily. “I only wanted to help.”

“And that’s appreciated. Really.” Subaru’s eye twitched. “But for now, let’s put the necromantic romance arc on hold, okay?”

There was an awkward silence before Subaru clapped her hands. “Anyway! I’ve got work to do. I’ll be busy sorting out this cult situation for the next few days. As much as I hate being here—” she gestured vaguely at the dreamscape “—we do need to sort things out, eventually.”

Echidna waved a hand airily. “Whenever you want to come back, just will it. It’s like clicking your heels three times. Except you don’t have heels. Or shoes. And you’re technically a ghost inside a reanimated body.”

“Cool. Happy tea party, then.” Subaru turned toward Satella, who still hadn’t let go of her hands.

“I’ll find a way to free you from that body, Subaru-kun,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth and terrifying determination.

Subaru flinched. “Y-yeah, let’s not rush that, okay? This week’s already full of existential crises.”

She snapped her fingers, and reality flickered like a bad TV channel. With a soft pop, she vanished, gone from the witches’ mental scape.

The wind blew gently through the fake grass. Satella stood there, staring at the space Subaru had just vacated. Echidna set down her tea cup and leaned back.

“That perfume she used was nice,” Echidna mused. “Maybe I should buy one too—oh, right. I’m dead.”

Ō—Ō

Subaru popped back into the real world like a badly edited anime jump cut, landing on her feet just outside the Tomb, with the crunch of gravel under Pandora’s dainty boots. The fresh air hit her like a reset button. She took a deep breath, chest rising in that body she still wasn’t used to, and stepped forward just in time to overhear Garfield’s gruff voice.

“I’m fine with it. Step-sibs, or whatever,” Garfield said with a forced shrug, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the ground like it owed him money. “But you ain’t leavin’ again, ma. Not now. Not ever.”

Raela’s hand trembled as she looked at him. “But… I have children. In Priestella.”

“I don’t care! You’re my mom!” he snapped, his tone laced with pain and desperation. “You left once, and we thought you were dead! You’re stayin’!”

Subaru narrowed her eyes, staying silent as the wind played with her long white-blonde hair. Garfield had suffered—yeah, more than anyone should have to. His pain came from love. The kind of love that clenched your chest until it suffocated you.

She stepped out fully from the Tomb’s shadow and cleared her throat. “Ahem.”

Both turned, startled. Raela gasped. Garfield grinned wide. “Oh! Pandora—this angel here—she’s the one who brought you back to me.”

Subaru raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Angel, huh? That’s a new one. I’ll add it to my business card. Witch of Vainglory slash family reunion miracle worker.”

She placed a hand on her hip and smirked. “Silly children, it is not much to think about your complex family. I have seen far worse drama in K-Dramas and cringe Indian soup operas.”

Garfield blinked. “K-Drama?”

Raela tilted her head. “Indian… soup?”

“Nothing of your concern,” Subaru waved her hand with exaggerated flair. “They’re ancient forms of torture used in the Pure Realm. Reserved only for the most heinous sinners. Endless episodes. Eternal misunderstandings. Crying at rain-soaked bus stops. Ghastly.”

Before they could question more, she snapped her fingers with theatrical grace.

Poof.

Two golden-haired children—one boy, one girl—appeared mid-game of tag, blinking in confusion. The girl had a ribbon in her hair; the boy held a half-chewed stick. They stared at the mountain forest around them, then saw Raela. There was a pause. A moment of uncertainty. But then, the girl stepped forward.

“...Mama?”

Raela fell to her knees, tears spilling freely. “Yes, babies. Mama’s here…”

The kids rushed into her arms, hugging tight. Garfield stood awkwardly to the side, rubbing the back of his neck, his lip trembling even as he tried to stay tough.

Subaru looked on, her arms folded. “Well, that went better than expected—wait.” She frowned. “Stepfather.”

She snapped her fingers again.

A man in a tidy merchant’s suit appeared, mid-step. “—and then I said, ‘No, I don’t—’ Wait. Where am I?”

He looked around, confused, then locked eyes with Raela and the children. He started to rush toward them but stopped when he noticed the tall, glowy woman with an intimidating stare in front of him.

Subaru stepped forward, her eyes flashing slightly violet. “Don’t speak.”

He froze. She waved her hand and time stopped. Everyone but her and him.

She floated toward him, hair moving like it had its own mind, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Open a shop. Here. In the Mathers Domain. I don’t care how hard that is. You make it work.”

“But—”

“And you treat Frederica and Garfield like they’re your own. You will love them.”

The man blinked slowly, eyes fogging slightly. “…Yes.”

“Good boy.” She gave his cheek a gentle pat and, with another flick of her wrist, time resumed.

Instantly, another round of emotional chaos erupted. Raela rushed to him, the kids clung to his legs, and Garfield stared at the guy like he was trying to figure out if he was going to punch him or hug him. More tears. More sobbing. Raela apologizing. Garfield grumbling but softening.

Subaru stood off to the side, watching it all unfold like an exhausted wedding planner who somehow had to officiate, cater, and clean up after the ceremony.

She cracked her neck.

Being the Witch of Vainglory was tough.

Especially when you were a walking, talking family counseling session.

Chapter Text

Gospel

Back in Lugunica, Subaru walked aimlessly, boots scuffing against the uneven cobblestones while her mind spiraled into wild strategies.

How do I gather the entire freakin’ cult in one place? she wondered, twirling a lock of her platinum blonde hair around her finger absentmindedly. I could just order them to show up, but then it’s gonna be like—‘Oh, Pandora-sama, we only need three Archbishops to kill one Half-Elf.’

She groaned under her breath, shoving her free hand into her pocket. Come on, Subaru, you’re technically their leader. Pull rank. Just threaten to erase them from existence if they complain.

Her brain stalled when she remembered the bizarre dynamic she'd seen… some Archbishops talked like they’d marry Pandora and others treated her like a mom. Whatever. If I gotta trick ‘em, I gotta trick ‘em. Emilia will be there… That’s excuse enough, right? Some nut-job will volunteer to go full demon lord if they hear she’s sitting undefended.

She was so lost in her scheming that she didn’t even notice when she bumped shoulders with someone on the narrow street.

“Watch where you’re walki—oh crap.”

As Subaru looked up, time slowed. Red eyes. Red hair. Attitude like a sword wrapped in silk.

Priscilla Barielle.

The royal candidate gave her a slow, disdainful glance that could’ve curdled milk and killed a cat. Leaning slightly, she clicked her tongue. “Peasant, how dare you touch me with that filthy body of yours? Kneel. Lick my feet. Perhaps I might forgive you.”

Subaru blinked twice, straight-faced, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Her face screamed: Are you seriously trying that crap on ME right now?

Rolling her eyes, she turned to walk straight past her.

But Priscilla wasn’t about to let that slide. With one sharp tug, she yanked Subaru backward by the collar of her overcoat like a stray kitten.

“How dare you show me your back?” Priscilla sneered, pulling her close. “Disgusting that I even had to touch you.”

Subaru let out a hiss through clenched teeth, the edge of her patience hanging by a thread. “Geez, get a life.”

Priscilla’s perfect eyebrow twitched. Fury flashed across her smug expression and she raised her hand, clearly about to incinerate Subaru out of sheer ego when a calm voice cut in.

“Hime-sama, let it be.”

Priscilla flicked her fan closed with a dramatic flutter and scoffed. “Hmph. Fine, but only because I have far better things to tend to. Let’s go, Al.” She tossed Subaru aside carelessly and sauntered away, her cloak billowing outrageously for no reason. Her bodyguard—a tall man in a mechanical helmet—trailed after her.

Subaru stood there, watching after them, her annoyance melting down into something much more mischievous. Her lips began curling up into a wide grin, eyes sparkling with sudden realization.

“Eureka.”

No one noticed the excitable, petite witch as she vanished down the street without a sound, her new plan already brewing.

Who says world domination can’t start with petty princesses?

Ō—Ō

When Subaru returned to the grand, echoing halls of the church, the moment her boots stepped onto the black marble, every single cultist in sight froze like deer caught in divine headlights. All heads turned. Mouths gaped. Murmurs ignited like wildfire.

“Pandora-sama…”

“She’s… she’s evolved.”

“Is that her divine form?!”

“She looks majestic… and also like she could step on me. Blessed day…”

Gone was the infamous loose, toga-like bedsheet that barely managed to be called clothing, the one that covered her top like a curtain and left her lower half criminally exposed. Now, Subaru strode in confidently wearing a cropped white top that showed her flat belly and hugged just enough to still make her curse Pandora’s minimalist chest. Over it, she had layered a deep orange overcoat with swirling embroidery along the edges, flowing just enough to be dramatic without being a tripping hazard. She wore dark, fitted shorts, comfortable yet striking, paired with black leggings that reached up to her knees. Her boots were sturdy, laced tight, ending a few inches above her ankles.

The overall vibe screamed: “Yes, I lead a cult, and yes, I could punch a dragon.”

And she loved it.

She flicked her platinum hair aside with a practiced elegance, hoping it made her look cool. Judging by the wide-eyed gasps and one guy fainting in reverence, it worked.

Inside the church’s inner sanctum, Petelgeuse and Sirius were waiting. The moment they saw her, their reactions were… loud.

“Pandora-samaaaaa!” Petelgeuse cried, his fingers twitching wildly, eyes bugging out with admiration. “This holy garment—! It reflects your beauty, your magnificence, your divinity multiplied a thousandfold!”

“Ohhh~ such restraint! Such madness~! Those shorts—they tease sanity! And yet, your legs, so elegantly bound! Yes, YES, burn my eyeballs with the brilliance!” Sirius howled, spinning in a circle like she’d just seen a new god descend from the heavens.

Subaru lifted her hand, hoping to calm them, but they were in Full Cultist Mode.

“Alright, simmer down, both of you. I didn’t change clothes to be praised, okay?” she lied.

Petelgeuse dropped to his knees in front of her. “What is thy divine will, Pandora-sama? Shall we worship your shoelaces? Shall we name a Gospel after your jacket?”

“Actually, speaking of Gospels…”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to sound as serious as she could while still getting used to the light breeze her exposed stomach kept catching.

“I want all the Sin Archbishops to receive a direct order. How do I do that?”

They blinked. Then, as usual, they both started talking at the same time.

“Ohhhh, Pandora-sama, if only it were so simple—!”

“You see~ we follow the holy Gospels—blessed, blessed books—”

“The Gospels speak the voice of destiny!”

“Without the Gospel’s guidance, we are but lost children playing in the mud of madness!”

“You’re saying…” Subaru interrupted with a sharp breath, “they don’t listen unless their personal horror bible tells them to?”

Petelgeuse solemnly nodded, “If the Gospel does not whisper your divine intent to them, they will wait. Forever, if needed.”

Sirius grinned like she was about to share a fun game. “Sometimes, they wait for years~! Is it not delightful~? HAHA—!”

Subaru gritted her teeth and crossed her arms. “So… if I just tell them something, it won’t work unless it’s printed in those weird books?”

They both nodded, way too enthusiastically.

Subaru dragged her hand down her face. Great. Freaking great. I’m leading a cult of loons who don’t understand chain of command unless a magic diary tells them to.

“How do the Gospels even work? Where do they get their messages from? Some kind of divine fax machine? A cosmic newsletter? Is there a writer’s room for fate somewhere?!”

Petelgeuse clutched his Gospel close like a baby. “The voice of the Witch whispers to us…”

Sirius nodded, hair swaying like wild flames. “But each Gospel is tuned to its owner~! The message must come from the truth that is meant for them!”

“So if I want to call a meeting, unless their Gospels say ‘Yo, show up in Pristella,’ they’ll just keep finger-painting with blood wherever they are?”

“…Yes,” they said together.

Subaru stared at them, mind running a mile a minute.

So I can’t call a staff meeting unless I become a magical newsletter for psychos. Cool cool cool. But there has to be a way. I’m technically Pandora now—maybe I can hijack the signal? Tap into the network? Become the WiFi password of fate?

“…I need to figure out how to ‘update’ the Gospels manually,” she muttered.

Petelgeuse gasped. “You would rewrite destiny itself, Pandora-sama?!”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes to get all the idiots in one room.”

Sirius chuckled. “You truly are wicked~ I adore it!”

Subaru didn’t feel wicked. She felt like the exhausted manager of a really unhinged idol group. And she still had no idea how to get their damn attention.

There had to be a workaround. Something.

She looked down at her blue coat, then glanced at the maddened eyes of her subordinates.

If she couldn’t reach their minds through the books… maybe it was time to play dirty with theatrics.

Fine. If fate won’t deliver my words, I’ll just shove them down their throats myself.

Ō—Ō

At night, the church fell into a hush. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass, casting eerie patterns along the floor like kaleidoscopic eyes watching her every move. Subaru sat cross-legged in the center of a small chamber that used to be Pandora’s prayer room, a place that still hummed faintly with residual magic. Her orange coat was folded beside her, boots off, her platinum hair tied up in a lazy bun as she leaned against the cold wall with a journal in her lap and frustration bubbling in her chest.

She tapped her pen against her lips. “Alright, think. How do I contact the Sin Archbishops? They only follow Gospel entries. They don’t listen to actual words. So… can I write in those creepy books now? Like… as Pandora?”

The idea sounded stupid when she said it aloud. But not impossible. She had done way weirder things this week alone. And she was the Witch of Vainglory now, whatever that meant in terms of divine permissions.

She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and concentrated. She imagined one of the cult’s Gospels—Petelgeuse’s specifically. That moldy, leather-bound thing he clutched like it was his own child. Subaru envisioned it opening, its pages flipping by themselves, blank spaces yawning open like they were waiting for her to speak.

What if I just… think really hard about what I want written?

She hesitated, then focused. “Okay… Gospel, write this: ‘All cult members must hop on one foot for three hours.’ No. Too obvious. How about… eat grass?”

She chuckled. Ha, that’s so dumb. There’s no way—

Suddenly, from downstairs, there was a loud scream.

“AAAAH!! I HAVE RECEIVED A DIVINE REVELATION!!”

Subaru froze.

“What?”

She scrambled up, nearly tripping on her own legs, sprinted across the cold stone hall and flung open the balcony doors. The cool night air hit her face as she leaned over the stone railing.

Below, torchlights flickered across the yard. Petelgeuse was standing on a wooden crate, his Gospel held above his head as he declared like a prophet drunk on ecstasy.

“Our beloved Satella has spoken—our tongues shall taste nature itself! We shall consume the raw, pure grass of this world and be nourished by her love!”

The crowd of cultists burst into applause and tears, falling to their knees.

Subaru’s eyes widened in horror as she watched the madness unfold. Petelgeuse dropped to all fours and bit into the lawn like a rabid deer, twitching with joy. His followers followed, chewing grass like cows in cultist robes. One of them began sobbing from the taste. Another was yelling about how earthy it felt.

“I was joking!” Subaru whispered, horrified. “That was a joke—who writes ‘eat grass’ and means it?!”

And yet…

"Touch grass—" she whispered.

"Another revelation!" Petelguse screamed. "We shall carcass the earth———!"

She stepped back from the balcony, heart thudding. Her hands shook slightly with realization.

She had done that.

The Gospel responded to her thoughts. To her will. Not by touch, not by voice. Just intention.

“Holy crap… I can actually write in them…”

Subaru inhaled deeply, then grinned. “Okay, time to put this freak ability to real use.”

She sat down, legs crossed again, now her expression focused and serious.

“Children of the church, followers of the Envious Witch,” she whispered aloud as she wrote mentally into the void, crafting each word in her mind like poetry. “Gather thy madness, thy devotion, and thy strength… for in two weeks’ time, the City of Pristella shall be thy destination. Follow the star of Vainglory and seize the silver-furred Half-Elf who walks among mortals, for her capture shall lead us to our Witch.”

She smiled, hearing the words echo through some unseen tether that bound all those cursed little books together.

She leaned back and folded her arms behind her head.

“This is probably how Pandora did it,” she muttered. “She made everyone think Satella was the one sending orders. But it was her. It was always her. No wonder they called her Vainglory… the witch who whispered sweet nothings into the ears of madmen and let them think they were hearing God.”

That was kind of brilliant. And utterly messed up.

“Neat,” she murmured. “And evil. Super evil. But neat.”

She rose, stretching her back, and wandered back toward her makeshift room. The moment she plopped into the surprisingly fluffy bed (bless the former Pandora’s sense of luxury), she felt the exhaustion of the day crash over her like a tidal wave. Her muscles ached. Her mind buzzed. Her soul screamed for silence.

She rolled over, tugged a pillow beneath her chin, and sighed into it.

This is fine. Just two weeks to prepare. I’ll rest, I’ll recharge, and maybe things will finally chill out for a second.

She closed her eyes.

Then they popped open.

“Ah, fuck, of course I can’t sleep.”

Ō—Ō

Regulus sat upon a velvet-cushioned chaise like a king forced to slum it in a palace he didn’t design. The inn—technically a luxury estate he had liberated from its rightful owner—was dimly lit, thick with perfume and incense, and filled with the quiet rustle of silks and soft whispers of his many, many wives. All fifty-two of them were scattered around, some reading, others knitting, braiding hair, or watching him with reverence or forced affection. The air hung heavy with obedience.

He sighed as he sipped from a glass of imported wine—far too sweet, but better than the filth this town usually offered.

Then, it happened.

A shimmer, soft at first, then undeniable. The Gospel that lay atop a marble pedestal beside him began to glow faintly.

His eye twitched. Again?

Grumbling, he set down the glass with a clink that made Wife #27 flinch. Slowly, with the weariness of a man constantly burdened by the idiocy of others, he stood and strolled to the book. Each step echoed in the hall, his spotless shoes clicking against polished stone. He opened the Gospel with a lazy flick, eyes scanning the new passage with disinterest turning to disdain.

“Pristella... two weeks... ugh.”

He flipped the page back and forth, as if hoping the order might vanish if he glared at it long enough.

“How utterly tedious. Why must I, Regulus Corneas, the embodiment of purity and perfection, be summoned like some common servant?” he muttered, his fingers curling around the edges of the book. “That smug brat Pandora probably thinks she’s clever. Always looking down on everyone. Vainglory, indeed. Hah. She ought to take a good long look in the mirror.”

He wanted to ignore it. He should ignore it. But no matter how much he seethed and pouted, there was no escaping the fact: Gospel orders were absolute. They were not suggestions. They were divine mandates. Not even he could refuse.

He sighed, loud and dramatic, like the world’s most persecuted saint.

“#81,” he snapped.

From a side room, a fair-haired girl barely in her twenties emerged, wearing a plain blue dress and a nervous expression. She had once lived in a simple village near Kararagi, tending goats or something equally meaningless, until he had deigned to rescue her from obscurity and elevate her to greatness. The fact that she never smiled didn’t bother him—she should be too awestruck to.

“Yes, my lord?” she asked in a flat, measured voice.

“We’re departing in two days. Pack for travel. Our destination is Pristella. The others will follow when summoned.”

She bowed her head. “As you wish.”

He turned away, already tired of the conversation, already fuming at the inconvenience. “Honestly, why can’t they ever think of someone else for these errands? I’m far too valuable to be wasted on petty tasks. This better be worth my time.”

He snapped the Gospel shut and walked away with the haughty grace of someone who believed the world owed him gratitude for merely existing.

The inn fell into a tense silence once again, only broken by the rustling of women rising to fulfill his orders.

Ō—Ō

In the flickering amber light of the dining hall, the long table stretched out like a grotesque banquet in a gothic painting. The estate had once belonged to some noble family, but Capella Emerada Lugnica had claimed it like a dragon claiming a cave—violently, without apology, and with a flair for the dramatic. At the head of the table, she lounged in a red and black lace gown that barely covered anything and left her scaled legs and wicked grin on full display.

To her right, Elsa Granhiert carved her meat with a surgeon’s grace and a maniac’s precision. Her plate was a mess of rare cuts and sticky blood, which she licked from her lips with lazy satisfaction. To Capella’s left sat Meili Portroute, swinging her legs like a schoolgirl, but her smile was far too sharp and her eyes a little too gleeful as she sucked on a bone with childish delight.

Capella clapped her hands, a sharp, echoing sound that rang through the hall. “My precious, disgusting little monsters!” she cooed, her voice sticky-sweet like poisoned honey. “Look at us! A proper family dinner, like those dull peasants dream about.”

Elsa didn’t even look up from her plate as she murmured, “Indeed, Mother. The meat is exquisite. So tender... almost like it was crying.”

Meili clapped her hands excitedly, grinning ear to ear. “I found it myself! It was some dumb merchant! He begged me to let him go—said he had a wife and kids or something, but that’s boring, right? I wanted to see if his eyeballs would pop first or if his spine would snap!”

Capella giggled like a debutante at a tea party. “Ah! Music to my ears! You both make Mother so proud. Raising you little darlings was worth every drop of blood and every pile of broken ribs!”

Elsa gave a slow nod. “You taught us well, Mother. You taught us that people are nothing but soft meatbags with delusions of value.”

“And toys!” Meili chirped. “Don’t forget toys!”

“Yes, toys,” Elsa agreed softly. “Until they break.”

Capella tilted her head and stretched, her serpentine eyes gleaming. “I swear, I’ve done a better job than most biological mothers. Honestly, what’s love without a little bit of rot and trauma? Isn’t that right, my sweet little tumors?”

“Totally, Mama!” Meili said, raising her glass of something red and warm. “To trauma!”

“To trauma,” Elsa echoed, raising her own glass with a ghost of a smile.

Then, the Gospel on the table gave a soft shimmer. Capella paused mid-sip, her tongue flicking out like a lizard’s as she grabbed the book and opened it with perfectly manicured claws.

She scanned it lazily. Then again. And again. A smirk started to twist her lips.

“Ohoho... Pristella in two weeks?” she purred, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “Seems someone’s finally throwing a party worth our time.”

Meili dropped her bone, eyes lighting up. “Can we go, Mama? Can we? I wanna see what kind of beasties live in that big watery city! Maybe I can tame a whale! Or feed someone to one!”

Elsa wiped the corner of her mouth and nodded calmly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a real challenge. Maybe a change of scenery will help me sharpen my instincts again.”

Capella tapped the book, still grinning. “It’s from the Gospel, so I suppose it must be fate. And I’m not one to deny destiny, especially when it wears such a tempting little dress. Very well, my darlings—our entire lovely family shall descend upon Pristella like a pox on the lungs.”

“We’ll play so much!” Meili was practically bouncing in her chair. “Can I blow up a building again, Mama?”

“Only if you make it artistic,” Capella said. “You know how I value aesthetics.”

“Understood,” Elsa murmured, swirling the blood in her glass.

The three leaned in, and with a devilish glint in their eyes, they raised their glasses.

“To chaos,” Capella declared.

“To screams,” Elsa added.

“To family fun time!” Meili shouted.

They clinked glasses with a chime that felt like the ringing of a funeral bell. The table glowed softly under the candlelight, their laughter echoing through the halls like a curse on the wind.

Ō—Ō

In the ruins of a once-bustling village on the outskirts of Kararagi, the air was thick with the scent of scorched wood and despair. Houses lay broken like snapped bones, the sky choked in gray smoke. Screams had long since faded, leaving behind only the whisper of wind and the crunch of broken glass underfoot.

In the center of the carnage stood two figures—brothers, but only in sin, not in blood.

Roy Alphard, the older of the two, licked his fingers delicately, savoring the invisible flavor of something far more delicious than food. “Ahh... Another name gone. Mmm, she was a mother of five, how quaint,” he mused, a glint of cruel amusement in his eyes. His mouth twisted into a satisfied grin.

His brother, Lye Batenkaitos, was crouched nearby, eyes wide and darting as he muttered a litany of names to himself, like a child hoarding sweets. “Lorenzo, Reika, Kuto, Kuto, Kuto again—ahh, no repeats, bad taste, bad texture! But so good, so crunchy!”

They were surrounded by villagers, or what was left of them—soulless husks, eyes blank, standing frozen as if waiting for something that would never come. Their names and memories had been devoured, chewed up and swallowed into the endless hunger of the Gluttony Archbishops.

Then, Roy paused mid-step. His Gospel shimmered with a pulsing blue light, faint and eerie. He raised a brow and opened it with a flick of his wrist.

“Well, well,” he murmured, scanning the page. “Looks like we’re invited to dinner, dear brother.”

Lye’s head snapped up. “Dinner? Real dinner? Where, where?”

Roy’s grin widened. “Pristella. In two weeks. Big event. Looks like it’s time to bring our appetites.”

Lye clapped his hands together like a giddy child. “Yay! Pristella! I love big cities! More people, more names, more memories, more flavors! Will there be noble kids? I love noble kids! Their minds are so ripe!”

Roy chuckled darkly, tucking the Gospel under his arm. “Let’s make it a feast to remember. Or rather... one that they won’t.”

The two turned, leaving behind the hollow shells of what once were lives, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets. As they vanished into the mist, laughter followed them—light, playful, and utterly inhuman.

Chapter Text

The Journey Begins

Subaru stood in the middle of her candlelit room, arms folded, eyes narrowed in deep thought. "Okay… dimensional travel," she muttered, pacing in circles. "If I can manipulate reality through the Gospel, order around cultists, and rewrite fates… maybe I can hop dimensions. Go home. Reverse all this nightmare fuel."

She closed her eyes, focused hard on the feeling of "home"—the scent of soy sauce, the hum of vending machines, the rustle of light novel pages in her hand, his mom yelling at him to take out the trash. A pull, a sensation, like being yanked by the spine—and then—snap.

The air turned hot. Concrete cracked beneath her feet. Her boots touched down on a city street—only the city looked wrecked. Burned cars, busted skyscrapers, and panic. Subaru blinked, spinning around, "Okay, definitely not Japan... unless Japan had an apocalypse while I was gone—"

A bald man in a yellow jumpsuit walked past her like nothing was wrong, grocery bag in hand. "Kid, you should probably go back home," he said nonchalantly, expression as deadpan as his tone.

"Huh? What? What is this place? Who are you?" Subaru demanded.

"This is City A. You don’t know? I'm Saitama. Hero for fun." He glanced up. "Also, move."

Subaru looked up just in time to see a flaming meteorite plummeting from the sky, big enough to erase the block. "What the he—"

Saitama jumped.

Boom.

Subaru screamed. A blink later, she was back in the void. "NOPE!" she shouted. "Okay. Try again!"

Next blink, she landed in a warehouse. Cold, echoey, a grim wind sweeping through broken walls.

"UNITED STATES OF SMASH!" someone roared.

A man with blonde hair—flaming with power—punched a black-suited figure so hard the air cracked open. Subaru shrieked, “NOPE NOPE NOPE—!”

Another jump.

The world shifted again—now she was standing in a forest, eerie silence hanging around.

“Sasuke!” a girl’s voice cried out.

Subaru turned—and saw a pink-haired girl charging at a dark-haired boy with eyes that screamed trauma and vengeance. He raised a hand, chakra swirling.

“Oh HELL no,” Subaru muttered, grabbing her coat.

Another dimension. And another.

She appeared mid-fall from a giant flying blimp with a swordsman in green hair screaming about ‘Taocho!'.

Then in a cursed alleyway while cursed spirits swirled around a tall guy with bandaged eyes.

Then smack in the middle of a high-stakes Mahjong match in a world with too many sparkles and sparkly-eyed boys yelling about tile fates. Someone said “Ron!” and Subaru screamed “RUN!”

She appeared on a pirate ship—blonde man smoking, green-haired guy arguing, orange-haired girl yelling “NAMI SWAAAAN!” and Subaru just backflipped into the ocean.

Every new world was louder, weirder, or more terrifying than the last. Kaiju fights, magical girl transformations gone wrong, an intergalactic space court judging her for "chronal meddling."

"WHO EVEN WRITES THIS STUFF?!" she yelled, tumbling back into the void once more.

Finally—mercifully—Subaru crash-landed back into her bed in the Witch Cult’s church. Her room. Familiar cracked ceilings, suspicious incense smell, probably haunted pillows. She lay there, gasping for breath.

"...Okay, note to self—dimensional travel exists... but without coordinates, you're basically flinging yourself into randomized chaos."

She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. “Ugh. There are too many damn universes. No way I’m guessing which Earth is mine…”

A pause.

“…I do miss vending machines, though.”

Ō—Ō

In the deep gloom of the Witch Cult's ancient church, shadows stretched long across the cracked tiles and warped wooden beams. The air hung thick with the scent of incense and something fainter, metallic and wrong. Subaru stood at the center of the grand hall, now lit only by flickering torches clinging to their sconces on the pillars. Her platinum hair caught the dim firelight, making her look ethereal, otherworldly.

The cultists were assembled in rows before her, their heads bowed, waiting. She had summoned them with a false message, a divine vision supposedly granted by Satella herself. Of course, it was a lie. A necessary one.

If this plan worked, most of them would end up dead, or jailed. The 'holy' invasion of Pristella was not a crusade—it was a trap. One she was laying herself. But not all of them needed to die. Some could be spared. Maybe. So she decided to test them.

"Children of the Envious Witch," she began, voice serene but hollow, like a priestess who had long lost faith in her gods. "Tonight, your loyalty will be tested."

Petelgeuse flinched in excitement, eyes rolling back. "Ooh, yes! A test of faith! A perfect way to prove our love for the Lady of Envy!"

Subaru walked slowly among them, boots clicking on the stone. "Some among you are impure. Some doubt. Some love Satella with their lips, but not their hearts."

Murmurs. Gasps. A few cultists began trembling.

"Those who are found unworthy will not accompany us to Pristella. Instead," she gestured to the ancient doors behind the altar, which opened with a deep groan, revealing a stairwell descending into darkness, "you will remain here, in silent devotion."

Whispers turned to panic. "W-we're not unworthy! We love Satella!"

"We'll kill for her!"

"We'll die for her!"

Subaru raised a hand. Silence. "Then prove it."

She produced a black stone—an artifact she had found tucked away in one of Pandora's secret vaults. It pulsed with cursed energy, able to sense hostility or fear. She had tampered with it—adjusted it using her now partially awakened power. It would reveal those who were lying. Who feared the Witch. Who doubted.

She handed the stone to the first cultist, a young man with sharp eyes and a trembling lip. "Hold it. And say: 'I love Satella with all my soul.'"

He did. The stone pulsed red.

"Into the basement," she said coldly.

He dropped to his knees. "Wait, wait, please! I—I do love her, I do, I swear, I—I just get scared sometimes—"

"Scared of her?" Subaru asked, stepping closer. "Of the one you claim to worship?"

He nodded frantically. "She’s terrifying! Beautiful, yes, but terrifying—"

Subaru's hand flicked. Two stronger cultists grabbed him and dragged him down into the dark stairwell.

The next cultist, a woman in her forties with stitched-together robes and eyes like cracked glass, held the stone with absolute confidence. "I love Satella with all my soul."

It pulsed white.

"You're clear. Step aside."

One by one, they came. Some passed. Some failed. Some tried to fake it and were caught. One attempted to flee—Subaru shattered her legs with a snap of her fingers and had her dragged into the depths.

Petelgeuse was last. When he held the stone, it didn’t even glow. It simply shattered in his palm from sheer manic devotion. He laughed, cried, screamed in joy. "My love! My love is beyond measurement!"

Subaru cringed but nodded. "Yes, yes, you're absolutely insane. Get over there."

Over the next few hours, she filtered them. More than forty were dragged to the basement. Some screamed. Some wept. A few laughed, saying that it was all part of the trial.

When the sorting was done, Subaru stood at the center again, flanked by the faithful.

"The rest of you," she announced, "will prepare. Pristella awaits. But remember: this is not a raid. This is a holy purification. Your lives are expendable, your deaths meaningful."

The cultists cheered like lunatics.

She turned, walked away, the screams of the imprisoned echoing faintly behind her.

In her private quarters, Subaru collapsed onto the bed, face buried in the pillow.

"I just condemned people. Real people," she muttered, clutching at her chest. "Even if they're insane, even if they're cultists… it still hurts."

But she didn’t cry. She couldn’t afford to.

Because tomorrow, she would start phase two. And it was going to be worse.

Ō—Ō

Subaru appeared with a quiet ripple in reality, a shimmer like heat on desert sand. One blink she wasn’t there, the next she stood on a grassy hill overlooking a modest village tucked between hills and fields. The sun was out, warming the rooftops and narrow streets below. She breathed in out of habit—though she didn’t need to. The air smelled of wood smoke, dust, and something faintly sweet.

A few people in the village square noticed her materialize out of nowhere and stopped in their tracks. A group of old women muttering while cleaning vegetables paused, one of them squinting. “You see that girl just now?”

“Hm? Pretty thing. Traveler maybe?” another guessed, wiping her hands on her apron.

Subaru walked with grace and confidence, clad in her striking ensemble—orange overcoat swishing at her calves, dark shorts hugging her thighs, boots clicking on the cobblestones. She smiled politely. “Good day,” she said, mimicking the aloof charm of noblewomen she’d seen before.

The tavern was small but full of warmth and noise. As she stepped in, the heads turned. A couple of men whistled low under their breath. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow, giving her a once-over. “You here for lunch, missy?”

“Indeed,” Subaru said coolly. “A table. Preferably somewhere sunny.”

A dish of sizzling meats and fried vegetables arrived, followed by steaming stew and a chilled cider. Subaru didn’t need to eat—but there was something about flavor, texture, the illusion of being human again. She savored each bite.

“Need some company?” a man with wind-swept hair and too much perfume asked, sliding into the bench across her.

“I don’t think I do.”

“Ouch. That hurts. Let me at least pay.”

She blinked. “Oh? Well, since you insist.” With a flutter of lashes, she tilted her head. “You know... I’ve always liked men who offer before being asked.”

Another leaned in. “Then how about I pay for dessert?”

Within ten minutes, Subaru had three admirers splitting the bill. She left the tavern full and smug, waving over her shoulder like a queen leaving a court of fools.

That’s when she saw the boy.

He was no older than eight, stuffed in a crude cage made of wooden bars and ropes, guarded by two old men and a woman with a bible-looking thing in hand.

“Sinner,” she hissed, glaring at the boy through the bars.

“Satan’s spawn,” the man spat. “Cursed hair, cursed eyes. Demon in human skin.”

The boy had one side of his hair white, the other jet black. His right eye was golden, his left green. He huddled in the corner of the cage, hugging his knees, shaking.

“Pathetic,” Subaru muttered.

She walked closer. “What did he do?”

“He was born!” the woman shrieked. “To a widow who died birthing him. Her sins birthed a demon!”

Subaru stared in silence. She could feel something in her chest pulse. That tightness again. Like a rope slowly knotting around her ribs.

“Right,” she said quietly. Then her fingers twitched.

In an instant, a wave of golden energy radiated from her body—barely visible, like the shimmer of heat on stone. Everyone in the square froze.

Then it began.

“You know,” Subaru said, strolling through the stunned villagers, “I think it’s such a tragedy... to be hated for being different. You people are the demons. Not him.”

She paused before the cage, held out her hand, and the bars disintegrated like paper ash. The boy looked up, blinking in awe and confusion.

“You’re free now.”

The villagers turned. Their expressions changed—not with horror, but smiles.

“Oh, there you are!” the woman who had called him Satan said sweetly. “You silly boy, come here! Supper’s waiting!”

“Cutie!” cooed another, ruffling his hair.

The boy looked around, utterly lost.

Subaru smiled. “You’ll be loved now. By everyone. And if anyone ever hates you again, they’ll forget it instantly.”

One of the men clapped him on the back. “We’re lucky to have such a special child. He’s a blessing!”

She watched them laugh and cheer. It was like watching actors swap scripts mid-play.

And she... didn’t feel guilty.

Not even a little.

No hesitation. No inner screaming about morality. No imaginary Rem slapping her. No Emilia frowning. No Roswaal cackling. Just silence in her head. Cold and clean.

That scared her more than anything.

She turned to walk away, her hands trembling slightly. “I didn’t even blink. I just rewrote their love like flipping a switch.”

She chuckled hollowly, “This is something Pandora would do.”

And then she paused. The wind brushed her cheek. For a second, it didn’t feel like her cheek. Like something else was breathing in through her lungs.

“What if she is still here?” she muttered. “Watching. Or worse... waiting.”

She looked up. The sky was bright. Too bright. It made her squint.

“Or maybe she’s not waiting,” she whispered. “Maybe she’s already enjoying the show.”

Ō—Ō

The day of the "holy quest" arrived and, predictably, the Witch Cultists looked like they’d crawled out of the world’s worst LARP convention. Black hoods, mismatched robes, face paint, teeth sharpened for no reason—Subaru could only rub her temples as they gathered in the courtyard outside the church, murmuring prayers, hissing praises, and muttering about Satella. One man wore an actual deer skull on his head. Another had glued paper wings to his back. A third had wrapped himself in chains and was dragging a wooden crucifix.

Petelgeuse was spinning in circles, hands twitching wildly as he sobbed, “The time is nigh! The divine hour has come upon us! O beauty! O glory! Our lady of Vainglory has shined upon our souls!” He stopped mid-twirl and slammed his forehead into a cobblestone. Again. And again. “I am unworthy. So unworthy!”

Sirius, meanwhile, was screaming, “LOVE! BURNING LOVE! I CAN SMELL IT IN THE AIR! This is a wedding of blood and belief! Of chaos and caress! LOVE IS A CLOAK THAT SCORCHES THE FLESH AND MELTS THE BONE!”

Subaru squinted as Sirius began rolling around in the gravel.

Some of the lower cultists were trying to get her attention. “Pandora-sama! Pandora-sama! Should we wear… flaming cow skulls?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Another spoke up with a grin. “What about full-body fishnet? Symbol of divine suffering!”

“No. That’s a hard no.”

One woman nervously raised her hand. “Could we… wear actual cloaks made from the flayed hides of heretics? I already made one.”

“Jesus—NO.”

Subaru folded her arms, eye twitching. “You all look like a failed metal band’s fan club. We can’t go into a city like this. You’ll be arrested in ten seconds. We’re supposed to blend in.”

Sighing, she raised her hand. A shimmer of gold sparkled in her palm, and with a casual flick of her fingers, a wave of light surged out across the cultists. Their robes dissolved in a flash, replaced by mundane clothing—travelers’ coats, tunics, dresses, boots. Nothing fancy, but enough to pass off as semi-normal citizens. Some even wore hats. Others gasped in awe as they looked at themselves.

“Clothes! I am clothed in the image of mediocrity! What a blessing!” one whispered.

“Pandora-sama made me… pretty?”

“Does this tunic make me look... faithful?”

Subaru flipped her hair and smirked. “Damn right I did. You’re welcome.”

But the smugness died fast.

Because there, still standing among the crowd, Sirius and Petelgeuse remained exactly the same. Petelgeuse in his tattered green robes, drooling and spasming, and Sirius wrapped head to toe in her burned-up bandages, metal plates clicking as she moved. And screaming. Always screaming.

Subaru’s eye twitched. “Seriously?”

Another flick of the fingers. She didn't even look. The bandages unraveled off Sirius like ribbons caught in the wind.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!” Sirius screamed as she found herself completely exposed.

“Oh, SHIT—!” Subaru yelped, immediately snapping again to wrap a robe around her. “That was—! I wasn’t—! I mean—!” She blinked. “Wait a second.”

Beneath the burns and bandages, Sirius’s body had been scorched and mangled. Skin melted. Charred and brittle. But she wasn’t dead. How? Subaru stared, wide-eyed.

“Hold still,” she said gently.

She focused again, this time directing her power specifically at Sirius’s body. Flesh rewove itself. Muscles knit. The burns evaporated. Color bloomed into skin that had long forgotten touch. When it was done, Sirius blinked, confused. She looked down at herself.

Pale, silken skin. Her silver hair now flowed past her shoulders. Her eyes—bright violet, shimmering like amethyst. She looked… beautiful. Disturbingly so. Like someone had pressed Emilia into a blender and made her older, wilder twin.

She turned to Subaru and whispered, “Mother… you made me perfect.”

“Okay, ew. No. No 'mother.' Stop that.”

Sirius launched forward, hugging Subaru so tight the air left her lungs. “I will devote myself to you in body, mind, and bone! I will tear my own limbs for you! I will drink hot lead if it pleases you!”

“Gross—Let go!”

From the corner, Petelgeuse collapsed to his knees, weeping. “To gaze upon such heavenly brilliance… My heart cannot take it! My soul is shredded with love and pain! My body convulses with unworthiness!”

“Okay, drama king,” Subaru muttered. With another flick, she turned her attention to him. His sickly green skin faded into a healthier tone. His sunken cheeks filled out. His wild, cracked lips softened. She added a little weight to his frame, repaired his broken fingers, fixed the crooked spine.

When it was done, Petelgeuse looked human. Normal. Handsome even—albeit still with madness in his eyes.

“Is… is this me?” he gasped, touching his face.

“Yep. You’re not hideous anymore.”

He fell backward, laughing and sobbing. “Such mercy! SUCH VAINGLORIOUS MERCY!”

Sirius leapt to him and tackled him in a hug. “You’re beautiful! My love! Let us burn the world in your name and hers!”

He shrieked in bliss. “Yes! Yes! Let us create a new gospel! A testament to HER GLORY! With ink of blood and parchment of flesh!”

They both started twirling together in the grass, holding hands, laughing and shouting, knocking over innocent cultists who were just trying to tie their shoelaces.

Subaru groaned and covered her face. “This is a mistake. I should’ve let them wear the cloaks.”

“Alright, everyone! Stand in line! Form a proper line or I swear I will glue your feet to the ground,” Subaru snapped, hands on her hips as she stared down at the sea of Witch Cultists. The once-chaotic swarm now fumbled into crooked lines, still mumbling prayers and hymns under their breaths, but they at least looked vaguely human now—thanks to her earlier wardrobe makeover. She stood atop a rock like a general before her troops and took a deep breath.

“This quest is very important for the future of our organization,” she began in a raised voice, pacing in front of them like some kind of frustrated teacher. “We are going to Pristella, and the city is full of eyes. We can’t afford to look like lunatics. So I’m laying down some ground rules.”

The cultists perked up. Petelgeuse twitched with excitement. Sirius hummed like a ticking time bomb.

“First rule,” Subaru announced, holding up a finger. “NO KILLING.”

A collective groan erupted from the group, like she'd just told a kindergarten class they couldn't have candy.

“OKAY, okay, okay—NO KILLING... unless I say so,” she quickly amended, flailing her hands to keep them from rioting.

One cultist raised a shaky hand. “But why, Pandora-sama?! Slaughter purifies the soul!”

“Because—uh,” Subaru blinked, scrambling. “Unnecessary killing will ruin the whole sacrifice thing. The ritual. You know. The holy resonance. Yeah.”

“Ooooooh,” they chorused in realization, nodding solemnly. One guy wrote it down in his little tattered prayer book.

“Second rule,” she continued. “All of you will wait for MY signal before doing anything. That means no spontaneous combustion, no declaring war on soup vendors, no burning children at the town square because you think they ‘looked suspicious.’ Understood?”

A few cultists exchanged guilty looks.

“And third—most important—ACT. LIKE. NORMAL. PEOPLE. That means no banging your head on the pavement in public. No screaming at the sky. No licking mailboxes. Just. Be. Normal.”

“But—!” Petelgeuse whimpered.

“No exceptions,” Subaru said firmly. “You want to bang your head? Fine. Do it in private. Find a quiet alley. Maybe get a rug. But do not ruin your face in public or I’ll fix it so well you’ll start attracting innkeepers.”

Sirius raised a hand. “Can I shout about love at an appropriate volume?”

“No.”

“Can I chain someone if they look unfaithful?”

“No.”

“Can I—”

“NO.”

Petelgeuse sniffled and held his face. “But my devotion… It radiates through impact! How will I show my gratitude to you if I can’t shatter my skull for you every few hours?”

Subaru pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do origami or something. Write me poems. Just don’t bleed in front of children.”

She stepped down from the rock and motioned for Sirius and Petelgeuse to come closer. “You two. You’ll be staying close to me. For cover, we’ll say… you’re my brother. And Sirius—” she winced a little as she said it, “you’re his wife.”

The reaction was instant and catastrophic.

“WIFE?! Wife?! I AM A WIFE!” Sirius shrieked, grabbing Petelgeuse’s arm with manic joy. “Oh, Beloved! Oh, my love, do you hear her? We are finally joined in holy union by our leader!”

“OH GREAT VAINGLORY, BLESS THIS UNION!” Petelgeuse sobbed, wrapping himself around Sirius, who was now trying to french kiss his cheek. “I am not worthy of this joy! This pleasure! This beautiful designation! Let us consecrate this moment!”

“I already regret this,” Subaru whispered, staring blankly at the sky.

Still, she sighed and clapped her hands. “Remember—act normal. If you must act deranged, find a nice quiet corner. Whisper to your chains. Bang your head on a pillow. Burn wood, not people. And above all else: Do. Not. Kill. Without. My. Word.”

The group nodded, still twitchy but listening.

The journey began soon after. Although Subaru could easily teleport herself to Pristella in a blink, she stayed with the crowd. If she left them unsupervised, they’d probably start worshipping a vending machine halfway there or try to sacrifice a cow because it mooed in Morse code.

She rode in a simple cart with Sirius and Petelgeuse close behind her. Petelgeuse sat with a ribbon he was braiding from grass, muttering sweet nothings to it. Sirius was humming love songs while polishing a frying pan she now called her “devotion disk.”

Behind them marched the army of disguised cultists, doing their best to look like travelers, merchants, and monks. Subaru watched them all with narrowed eyes.

This was going to be a long trip.

Chapter Text

In Pristella

The caravan rolled through the grassy hillside, carts creaking lazily under the sun. From a distance, it looked… normal. Utterly, beautifully normal. Just a group of merchants and pilgrims on their way to Pristella. Nothing suspicious at all. Except maybe the guy at the back mumbling to a cabbage he named “Mother.” But even that could pass as local flavor.

Subaru sat near the front, legs crossed, fanning herself with a hand-carved paddle someone in the cult made for her as a token of “eternal devotion.” She had rejected five of those paddles so far. This was the sixth. She figured she might as well use it.

Sirius and Petelgeuse rode a few carts behind, disguised and “normal.” Or so she had hoped.

Then came the boy.

A small, scruffy kid with sun-browned skin and a crooked basket of wildflowers skipped over from the roadside, weaving between the walking travelers. “Flowers! Beautiful flowers! For good luck and safe travel!” he chirped with the earnestness of someone too young to know better.

“Oh no,” Subaru whispered, already bracing.

The boy came to Sirius’s side first, perhaps drawn by her oddly cheerful hums. “Miss, would you like a flower? It’s for luck!”

Sirius blinked at him with her huge violet eyes, then gasped, hand over her heart as if he’d just proposed marriage. “F-For me? A flower?! You—You sweet little darling! What a beautiful child! Such pure, innocent love!” She clutched the daisy he held out like it was a sacred artifact. “I shall cherish this moment until the day I burst into flames from passion!”

Petelgeuse, watching her with glistening eyes, cried out, “Even the children recognize your brilliance, my beloved! The flower seeks you! Even nature bows to your love!”

The boy blinked. “Uh…”

Sirius dropped to her knees and grabbed his shoulders. “Tell me your name, child! Tell me your dreams! I shall bless you with the fire of a thousand burning suns!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Subaru said, appearing out of literal nowhere and grabbing the boy by the collar like a mom pulling her kid away from a creepy puppet show. “We’re done here. How much for the flowers?”

“Uh—ten coppers, miss—?”

“Here’s a silver,” she said, slapping the coin into his hand, “and here’s some advice: if someone smiles too wide, run.”

She gently pushed the stunned boy in the opposite direction of the caravan. “Go. Run free. Be a farmer. Or a shoe maker. Just… not a traveling flower vendor. Dangerous business, obviously.”

The boy fled, flower basket bouncing as he vanished down the trail.

Back in the cart, Sirius held the flower to her cheek, sighing dreamily. “Such a sweet child. I would chain him to a meadow and teach him about compassion for years!”

“Please don’t ever say things like that again,” Subaru muttered, dragging her hand down her face.

Honestly, she was getting real tired of this chaos parade. But she had to admit, as exhausting as these maniacs were, they were listening. The caravan still moved smoothly, and no one had spontaneously combusted or declared blood vengeance on passing cows.

For now.

Subaru leaned back in her seat and looked at the sky.

This was fine.

Totally.

Absolutely.

Completely normal.

Ō—Ō

The sun was dipping low, casting golden reflections over the canals that curved around the city of Pristella. The great city gates loomed ahead, tall, proud, and flanked by vigilant guards in polished armor. As the cultist caravan approached, a few of the travelers in front slowed their steps, eyes flicking nervously to the uniformed men at the entrance. Their grip on the reins tightened. The moment was approaching.

"State your name and purpose!" barked one of the gatekeepers, stepping forward with the stiff discipline of someone who hadn’t had their afternoon tea. His partner, a younger recruit, narrowed his eyes at the approaching figures. Something about the way the group moved—like a mismatched play with too many actors—set off alarms in his gut. "Papers. Passes. Let's see them."

And of course, right on cue, Petelgeuse began twitching. His neck jerked to the side once, twice, then started spinning slowly like he was winding up for something catastrophic. "Unworthy... unworthy worms dare impede the will of our Great—"

Before he could finish whatever religious monologue he had stored in that twitching skull, Subaru teleported between them with a smile that was way too polished for the chaos she constantly managed. She held out both hands like a referee in a toddler's wrestling match. "Okay! Hi! We’re here on... pilgrimage. Yes. Pilgrimage. Very holy. Very devout. You see how not dangerous we look?"

The guards weren't convinced. "That doesn't explain the lack of documentation," the older one grunted. "And you're not on any of the official entry lists."

Subaru sighed through her nose. She hated doing this. No, that wasn’t right—she used to hate doing this. Now she just hated how easy it was.

“Alright,” she whispered, raising a hand.

A shimmering pulse of invisible force rippled from her fingers and washed over the two gatekeepers. Their eyes glazed, expressions softened, and posture loosened as if the tension had been yanked out of their bones. Subaru tilted her head, voice honey-sweet and terrifyingly casual. "You remember us. You saw our papers. You already let us through. We’re just a bunch of pilgrims on their way to pray at the canals, maybe splash some water around, commune with the spirits, all that nice stuff."

The guards blinked slowly. "Oh... yes, of course. I remember. Papers were in order. You're clear to enter."

“Fantastic!” Subaru beamed. “Thank you for your service, brave city defenders.”

Petelgeuse, who had already raised a dagger and was mid-lurch, stopped mid-motion. "My apostle... you spared them... they were insects—"

"Yeah, yeah. We’re not murdering city guards in broad daylight," Subaru muttered, walking past him without a second glance. "You know, basic infiltration tactics. Ever heard of them?"

Behind her, the cultists followed in a steady stream, eyes wide as they took in the city beyond the gates.

Pristella unfolded before them like a dream of flowing water and gleaming stone. Canals ran alongside every street, small boats gliding lazily through the aquamarine water. Bridges arched over the waterways like delicate lace, and flower-filled balconies stretched from cream-colored buildings that sparkled under the afternoon sun. The distant chime of bells echoed faintly, mingling with the chatter of merchants and the occasional splash of a paddle.

To anyone watching, they were just a group of odd travelers arriving in the bustling city. But Subaru knew better. This was a powder keg. The cultists were the fuse.

She took a long breath. The air here smelled cleaner, brighter—maybe because it hadn’t yet been touched by the madness she dragged behind her.

Yet.

Pristella was beautiful.

It wouldn’t stay that way.

Ō—Ō

They arrived at a cozy little inn tucked by one of Pristella’s quieter canals—just inconspicuous enough to not raise questions, but decent enough not to offend Subaru’s bare-minimum standards. The wooden sign above the door creaked in the breeze as they entered. Inside, the innkeeper, an older man with a gentle hunch and suspicious eyes, glanced up from behind the counter.

He smiled in that “I-run-this-place-alone-and-want-no-trouble” kind of way, but that smile faltered quickly when he saw the green-haired man behind Subaru start banging his head repeatedly—hard—against the doorframe.

Thunk. Thunk. THUNK.

“My body is unworthy to house her will! My head must be broken to—”

“PETELGEUSE.” Subaru clapped her hands and stomped once. “We talked about this.”

Next to him, Sirius clutched the floral-patterned wallpaper and laughed so hard she started hiccupping. “LOVE! THE ECHOES OF DIVINE LOVE IN THIS WOODEN PRISON! HAHAHA—!”

The innkeeper dropped his quill.

Subaru forced a grin, stepping in front of her twitching companions like a protective big sister on babysitting duty. “They’re, um… just… excited.”

“Excited,” the innkeeper echoed flatly.

“For their honeymoon,” Subaru said quickly, before she could stop herself. She kept her smile plastered in place. “You know. Just married. Eccentric couple. Passionate. Lots of enthusiasm. Haha.”

“Ohhhh,” the man nodded slowly, the kind of slow nod that said he definitely didn’t believe her but didn’t want to deal with it. “Newlyweds. Right. Well… I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Only three rooms were booked—hers, Petelgeuse’s, and Sirius’s. The rest of the cultists were told to scatter around town and act like random travelers. Sleep on benches, loiter by fountains, sit on rooftops if they had to, just act like normal weirdos instead of dangerous weirdos.

Once they got to their respective rooms and the door finally shut behind them, Subaru rounded on the two like a disappointed mother. “Okay. What. Was. That?”

Sirius tilted her head innocently. “What was what, dearest?”

“You. Both. I said act normal.”

Petelgeuse smiled with far too many teeth. “But you said not in public. And that was a private hallway. Not technically public—”

“There was an innkeeper!” Subaru snapped.

“Let’s kill him!” Sirius declared immediately, one hand already reaching for her whip.

“No, oh my god, no!” Subaru grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back. “We are not killing the innkeeper because you couldn’t resist being weirdos for five freaking minutes!”

Petelgeuse sulked. “But if he saw too much…”

“We’ll deal with it if it becomes a problem,” Subaru hissed. “I’ll erase his memories or scramble his head later if I have to. We’re trying to infiltrate this place, not explode it on day one.”

Sirius muttered something about fire being cleansing.

“No burning the inn, either,” Subaru snapped.

Petelgeuse perked up. “Can I at least scratch the wall as penance?”

“Petelgeuse.”

“Yes, my lovely apostle?”

“Go sit on the bed. And don’t lick anything.”

He made a noise like a kicked dog and shuffled over obediently.

Subaru rubbed her temples. She was starting to regret not just teleporting in alone. But then again… this circus was hers now. And the show had only just begun.

Ō—Ō

Subaru walked through the sun-warmed stone streets of Pristella, the afternoon light gleaming off the gently flowing canals. Her orange overcoat swayed behind her, the hems tracing soft arcs with each step. Her outfit was functional and stylish, something she had tailored perfectly to her tastes now that she wasn’t restricted by the norms of being a weak, pathetic shut-in boy from Japan. The white cropped top hugged her just enough, showing off the slim lines of her stomach. Her dark shorts and black leggings offered comfort and utility, and the brown boots laced tightly to her lower calves completed the look. She looked confident. Witch-like, even. The long silver-white hair—no longer a wig—fluttered in the breeze as she passed by. A few heads turned. Some whispered, curious. Others just stared. It made her feel something odd in her chest. Not bad, just… different.

It was only ten days ago that she had been a boy. Natsuki Subaru, loser extraordinaire. And now—this. A body that didn’t breathe unless she wanted it to. One that didn’t tire, didn’t need sleep or food, or even a bathroom break. No periods, no waste, no awkward moments of peeing sitting down. It made some things easier. And the lack of a Subaru Junior, while jarring at first, hadn’t been too inconvenient. She’d only reached down out of habit once, and after the panic faded, she realized… this body really was cute. A little flat, maybe. A cup at best. But the face was gorgeous. Mysterious. The kind of pretty that demanded attention and respect. Subaru had always admired girls like that from afar. Now, she was one. Weird how fast she’d gotten used to it.

Her thoughts paused as she noticed a gathering up ahead, a small crowd forming in the plaza near one of the larger canals. She tilted her head and strolled closer.

A girl stood at the center. Tan skin kissed by the sun, long golden hair braided back with strands of beads and feathers, and eyes like melted gold. She held a medieval-looking string instrument, something between a lute and a guitar, cradling it with casual grace. Her fingers danced across the strings, and her voice poured like honey through the air.

The song was a ballad. A tale spun with both pride and grief. It spoke of the great sealing of the Witch of Envy—Satella. The three heroes who stood against her: Reid Astrea, the First Sword Saint with his blazing red hair and impossible swordsmanship; Volcanica, the Dragon who towered like a mountain and roared like storms; and Flugel, the Sage who brought wisdom and plans and the most powerful magic of his time.

Subaru’s steps slowed as she listened. She narrowed her eyes, arms folded. The people around her watched the singer with reverence, a few mouthing the lyrics. This was an old song. One passed down through generations. An anthem against evil. Against Satella.

And yet—Subaru’s thoughts curled into themselves.

Satella said I was Flugel, didn’t she? Before I became Natsuki Subaru. She said that was who I was before… whatever the hell happened to me. She frowned, chewing on the thought. Does that mean I sealed myself? The idea was dizzying.

Then there was Pandora. That smug, soft-voiced woman who handed her the key to this body—this strange, too-perfect body. Is she just watching? Waiting to take it back? Echidna had said something like that too. That maybe Subaru wasn’t entirely alone in her skin. That maybe she was a vessel.

What if Pandora is just letting me play until it’s convenient to snap her fingers and—boom—take over?

Subaru glanced down at her hands. They were delicate, soft, but dangerous. With just a thought she could bend minds, erase pain, rewrite memories. Even now, the idea of turning this crowd’s love for the singer into worship for herself was almost… tempting.

No. Not yet. She shook her head and chuckled under her breath. This is going to be interesting, she thought.

She watched the rest of the performance in silence, letting the breeze play with her hair as the chords faded into the hum of the city. The story of the three heroes ended in bittersweet triumph.

The applause rose around her like a gentle wave. Subaru didn’t clap. She just smiled, like a witch who already knew the ending.

Subaru waited until the crowd thinned, the lingering buzz of admiration still hovering like warm smoke in the air. The bard had just finished packing up her instrument—a sleek, polished thing with strings that shimmered like silver thread—when Subaru stepped forward, boots tapping softly on the cobbled stones.

The tan-skinned girl looked up, golden eyes curious and bright beneath sun-kissed lashes. “Hmm? Oh! Did you like the song, miss? I take donations, tips, food, gold, wine, shiny things, ancient relics, love letters, compliments—whichever’s easiest.”

Subaru arched a brow, her arms folded over her chest. “Charming.”

“I know.” The bard flashed a grin, all white teeth and self-confidence. “Name’s Lilliana. Traveling minstrel, living legend, lover of culture and song, and—might I say—you look like you just stepped out of a storybook.”

Subaru allowed herself a smirk. “Pandora,” she replied smoothly. “That’s my name.”

Lilliana blinked. “Ooooh. Mysterious. I like it. Sounds like a tragic beauty cursed by fate. Are you?”

“Something like that,” Subaru muttered, then added louder, “I wanted to ask something. What do you know about this city? Its history.”

Lilliana immediately perked up. “Ah, you’ve come to the right bard! Pristella, the City of Water, home to winding canals, elegant bridges, and generations of political intrigue, flooded basements, and questionable festivals—” She paused and held up a hand expectantly, fingers rubbing together. “Buuuut… if you want the good details—y’know, secret scandals, ghost stories, forbidden love affairs, actual historical relevance—I might need a bit of, uh, motivation. Coins. Gella. Moolah. You get it.”

Subaru stared flatly. “Seriously?”

“Knowledge doesn’t pay for itself, Miss Pandora.”

“Forget it,” Subaru sighed, turning on her heel.

“Ooh, tragic beauty and stingy,” Lilliana called playfully after her. “The mystery deepens!”

Subaru walked away without looking back, her boots tapping steadily as the crowd swallowed the bard again. Figures. Even in a new world, capitalism was still alive and annoying.

Chapter Text

A Fellow Isekai'd Guy

The city of Pristella shimmered under the soft golden hue of the afternoon sun, its canals reflecting ripples of light against pale stone bridges and tiled rooftops. The air carried the scent of river water, street food, and warm brick. Crowds moved lazily under fluttering banners, children laughed on the edge of walkways, and somewhere, a bard sang a cheerful tune that didn't interest Subaru in the slightest.

From the shadow of a quiet colonnade, Subaru, orange overcoat trailing like the a flag, stood watching.

First to arrive was Emilia.

She stepped off the carriage with grace, her long silver hair cascading like moonlight. Her violet eyes scanned the lively city with cautious hope. She wore her usual white and purple attire, elegant yet practical, a picture of idealistic nobility.

Beside her stood Frederica, taller and poised, her beastkin heritage subtle beneath the trim of her maid uniform. She carried herself with the silent efficiency of someone always ready for trouble. Said trouble being...

Rem followed with calm, steady steps.

Otto hopped down from the carriage next, immediately dusting his coat off and muttering to himself about expenses, routes, and city maps.

Roswaal L. Mathers emerged like a stage actor arriving at his cue, colorful robes sweeping the ground, his face painted in its usual divided pattern. He made a show of stretching, cracking his neck, and glancing around as if he were just so amused by the whole thing.

And of course, Ram came last. Stern as ever, pink-haired and sharp-tongued even in her silence. She barely looked at the city: just at the people she came with.

Subaru tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Well," she murmured under her breath, "the band's all here."

But then, another carriage rolled in.

Felt.

She jumped out before the wheels even stopped, landing on her feet like a cat. Golden eyes burning, short blonde hair tousled with motion. She was dressed like a rogue trying to play noble, still that same wild fire, now barely tamed.

Reinhard van Astrea was right behind her. Ever composed, his red hair and white knight's uniform made him look like a painting brought to life. His sword gleamed at his side like a warning. Subaru's gaze lingered on him longer than she meant to.

With them came Rom, hulking, bearded, loyal as always and a few new faces. A few punks.

Then came Crusch Karsten's procession.

Orderly. Disciplined. Honorable. She dismounted with her usual dignity, green uniform crisp and posture immaculate. Her long hair flowed over one shoulder, her expression calm yet resolute.

Ferris, ever smug, was at her side, tail swishing as he eyed the city with narrowed eyes. "Smells like secrets," he purred.

Subaru leaned on the wall now, one boot propped up behind her. She was starting to lose count of how many power players were showing up. A part of her wondered if it was fate or just ridiculous timing.

And then, because the universe wasn't done yet—came Priscilla Barielle.

She arrived in style.

A lavish carriage rolled through the gates as if the road had parted just for her. Priscilla stepped out like a queen descending to grace the peasants with her presence. Her crimson dress sparkled with thread-of-gold embroidery, and her fan clicked open with theatrical flair.

Behind her came Al, masked, and as unbothered as ever, trailing after her like a grumbling shadow. Liliana was there too, likely roped into something weird again, and a few heavily armed knights who clearly didn't want to be there but were paid too much to complain.

Subaru sighed, arms folded as she watched all the camps spread through the streets, heading toward inns and villas and meeting halls. From where she stood, she looked like just another curious pedestrian. Just a face in the crowd. Just a mysterious girl with violet eyes and a charming smile.

No one would guess the Witch of Vainglory was already here. Watching. Planning. Smirking at all the pieces moving into place like pawns on a glass board.

"Oh yeah," she whispered, "this is going to be fun."

Ō—Ō

A few days had passed since Subaru's quiet arrival in Pristella. Long enough to walk every canal, every alley, every plaza and tea shop worth noting. She knew the patrol routes of the guards, the flow of market traffic, and even which noble estates were hosting visiting dignitaries. The city was a delicate dance of power and tension, and she was learning the steps quickly. She had plans. Big ones. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to let them unfold.

That day, she was seated in a small open-air restaurant near the river, absently swirling a spoon in a bowl of thick fish soup she didn't even need. Her legs were crossed, overcoat draped on the back of her chair, platinum blonde hair tied in a loose bun that looked like effort had been made—when in truth, it was magic doing all the work. Her fork poked lazily at a slice of grilled mushroom when suddenly—

"Pandora-sama~!"

The voice. That voice. Too sugary. Too smug. Too loud.

Subaru very nearly choked on the soup, blinking hard as she set her spoon down with absolute restraint. She raised her eyes, and there she was: Capella Emerada Lugnica. In broad daylight. In a frilly black dress with lace sleeves and a neckline that could only be described as criminal. Her crimson eyes were shining like she'd just found a new toy.

Subaru smiled tightly. "Capella dear."

Capella twirled on her heel like a ballerina made of nightmares. "Yes, Pandora-sama?"

Subaru's gaze didn't waver. "Why are you here… in broad daylight?"

Capella blinked, eyes wide like a doll. "Oops?"

"Oops," Subaru echoed flatly. "Are you forgetting the point of covert infiltration?"

"I just got too excited!" Capella said, rocking back on her heels with a sly grin. "I wanted to be the first to greet you~!"

"And who," Subaru said slowly, gaze shifting toward the two girls awkwardly standing in the restaurant's doorway, "are they?"

The first was a woman with long dark hair and dead eyes who was calmly licking the edge of a curved dagger, like she was tasting it. The second was a child, maybe twelve, beaming cheerfully as she hugged a furry creature with too many legs.

Capella beamed. "They're my girls! Elsa and Mili! Say hi, girls!"

"Hello!" Mili chirped with a bright grin.

Elsa didn't even glance up, just let her tongue glide down the flat of the blade like a bored cat.

Subaru's platinum brows twitched ever so slightly, but her voice remained calm. "...How adorable. Truly. Now do me a favor and go to the inn I already paid for. The one with the bird carving on the door. Quietly."

Capella pouted. "But we just got here, Pandora-sama—!"

"And I'm saying: no killing. No gutting, slicing, crushing, melting, poisoning, or exploding."

"Aw, really?" Capella whined like a child denied candy. "Not even just one? A teeny one?"

"No." Subaru narrowed her eyes. "I don't care if someone looks at you funny or bumps into you or even calls you names. No killing."

"Fine," Capella grumbled. "What if I just maim a little—?"

"Capella."

"M'kay, m'kay, I got it! Geez, you're such a buzzkill today."

"I'll be a bigger one if you ruin this mission," Subaru muttered, rubbing her temple.

Elsa finally looked up and muttered something about "stretching her legs," which Subaru interpreted as getting ready to gut someone. She snapped her fingers, magic sliding behind her voice.

"Inn. Now."

Capella huffed but bowed dramatically. "As you command, Pandora-sama~! Come, girls! Let's unpack before someone accidentally dies."

As the three walked off—Capella skipping, Mili skipping faster, and Elsa walking like a shadow with teeth—Subaru stared back down at her soup. Cold now. Whatever. She wasn't even hungry.

She let out a breath through her nose and murmured under her breath, "I swear, if one of them burns down a bakery, I'm making her clean the entire cathedral floor with her tongue."

It was all going according to plan. Somehow.

Ō—Ō

The next day dawned too bright for Subaru's taste. She sat under the canopy of a shaded bench near the central square fountain, watching the pigeons strut around like little idiots. Her mood was calm, mellow—until a flash of pristine white caught her eye.

A man in a perfect white suit, hair slicked back like he'd dipped his head in oil, marched down the cobblestone path like he owned the air itself. Behind him, a train of women followed, moving in synchronized silence like a cult choir. Fifty-three of them, each flawless, each dressed in variations of white lace, each with the exact same blank expression. It was like watching a doll factory come to life.

Regulus Corneas had arrived.

"Pandora!" he called out like a king summoning a peasant. "Ah, how generous fate is, to allow me to set eyes upon you this morning."

Subaru blinked slowly. "Regulus."

He stepped closer, arms spread in the most condescending show of magnanimity imaginable. "You are truly blessed beyond measure that I, Regulus Corneas, the Regulus, am willing to grace you with my presence. Honestly, I had no reason to come. None at all! But I thought to myself, 'Wouldn't it be irresponsible to let this poor, lesser being handle things without my guiding hand?' And what kind of man would I be if I shirked my duty to lesser creatures?"

Subaru smiled. Not the real kind. The kind of smile you wear when you're about to punt someone off a cliff but you're trying to look polite in front of company. "That's... so very kind of you."

He nodded like she was finally catching on. "Of course, of course. You understand. I knew you'd understand. My wives understand. Don't you, darlings?"

The fifty-three women all blinked in eerie unison. Not a word. Not a breath out of place. Just soulless silence.

It creeped Subaru the hell out.

She cleared her throat. "There's an inn down the canal street, by the old stone bridge. Cozy. Discreet. You and your... wives... can stay there until we begin."

Regulus stopped mid-step like she'd insulted his lineage. His eye twitched.

"Anosa," he said, voice sharp and suddenly brittle. "Anosa. Did I hear you correctly? You would ask me—me—to sully myself and my beloved wives by lodging in a... a filthy public inn?"

Subaru blinked. "It's not filthy, it's just—"

"Silence," he snapped, lifting one gloved finger like he was silencing a servant. "How dare you. Do you truly believe that I, Regulus Corneas, who treasures the sanctity and purity of his marital bonds above all else, would subject his family to such degrading conditions?"

Subaru's smile twitched.

Regulus turned with a dramatic flare of his coat. "No, no. We shall not be staying there. I will find my own residence. A clean one. A suitable one. Let's go, dears."

And with that, he marched off, wives trailing like a ghostly procession of emotionless porcelain.

Subaru sat frozen for a moment, eye twitching. Her spoon bent in her grip.

"I hope you trip on a tile and fall face-first into a canal," she muttered, face plastered with that same rigid smile.

So far, this mission was shaping up to be one long headache.

Ō—Ō

Subaru was strolling through the sun-washed streets of Pristella, her boots tapping softly against the stone path as children ran around her, chasing each other with wooden swords and paper fans. A small girl tugged on her gloved hand and offered a flower—probably a weed, but adorable nonetheless. Subaru knelt down and tucked it behind her ear, ruffling the girl's hair. She didn't need food, sleep, or even rest, but moments like this made her forget the horrifying truth behind her existence. She could play pretend, just for a little while.

Then, her peace was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and a voice far too casual for her taste.

"Yo," came the greeting.

Subaru turned, eyes flicking to the figure clad in armor, a bulky helmet obscuring most of his face. He stopped in front of her, arm on his hip.

"Quite a nice day, eh?" the man added, tilting his head.

"I guess," she said warily, giving a polite smile. "Your name?"

"Al." He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "And you?"

She paused, considered her words. "…I go by Pandora."

Al raised an invisible eyebrow—Subaru couldn't see it, but she felt it. "Interesting name, ne, Big Sister?"

Subaru blinked. "Huh?"

"You've been awfully active lately," Al said, his tone still relaxed but laced with something sharper beneath. "Walking around the square when we're there. Sitting near the inns when we pass. Watching, always a few steps behind. It's too much to be a coincidence."

Her smile didn't waver, but inside, she was screaming. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly, "but I don't understand what you mean."

"Haha," he laughed, hand on his hip. "I may look like some casual guy with a rusty bucket on his head, but I ain't a fool. You're a witch, right?"

Her lips curled slightly, and she leaned on one leg like a cat stretching. "Why would you think that?" she asked. "Do you think a cute, petite girl like me would be a witch?"

"Why not?" he shrugged.

She almost choked on her tongue. "You're supposed to deny it, you asshole," she muttered.

Al stepped closer, voice low now. "Listen, I don't care what you're cooking up. I've seen worse. Hell, I've been worse. But let's make one thing clear: Hime-sama must not be harmed."

"A bold claim," Subaru said, arching a brow, "and an even bolder warning. What are you, some isekai protagonist?"

Al's helmet tilted ever so slightly, and he stared. "…You're from another world."

Subaru's smile froze. "…Why would you say that?"

"I've been in this world for fifteen years, sweetheart," Al muttered, stepping closer, gaze boring into her. "And I've heard that phrase before. Isekai. Nobody says that here."

Subaru gasped. "Wait… you really are from another world?!"

He blinked under the helmet. "You… are too?"

She pointed at him with both fingers, her voice lifting in excitement. "Wait a minute! That overcoat, that t-shirt! You look like you stepped outta a survival game or something! Are you seriously a real otherworlder?!"

"Damn right," Al said. "Showed up here years ago. Arm got cursed off on day two."

"No way! Okay, okay, rapid-fire questions. Favorite shounen character?"

"Zoro!"

"Aizen!" Subaru squealed, clapping her hands. "I can't believe this—I met a fellow Isekai bro!"

They both laughed, and for a moment, the tension dissolved like sugar in tea. Then Subaru paused. Narrowed her eyes.

"…Wait. You weren't a girl before you got Isekai'd, right?"

Al straightened. "Why the hell would you ask that?! Of course not. I mean… why would that—" He stopped. "…Wait, you were a guy?"

Subaru gave him a flat look. "Yeah. I lost my manhood."

There was a pause.

Then, with the kind of solemn respect that only one broken man could give another, Al reached out and gently patted her on the head.

"I understand."

Subaru sniffled theatrically. "Thank you."

Subaru brushed off Al's hand with a half-hearted glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched. "You know," she said, stepping to the side and watching a group of merchants haggle nearby, "I didn't ask for this."

"For what?" Al asked, folding his arms again. "Losing your manhood? Becoming a witch? Getting tangled in a world full of psychos?"

"All of it," Subaru muttered. "But mostly this. Being forced into the role of the villainess."

Al tilted his head. "Villainess?"

"Yeah," she said, motioning vaguely to herself. "Think about it—I'm powerful, beautiful, morally grey, and everyone either worships me or wants to kill me. I show up in places uninvited. People whisper my name like I'm Voldemort's cousin. And let's not forget I've got enough mental trauma to fill an entire drama shelf. This is a Villainess Fantasy world, one hundred percent."

Al stared. "You're calling this world a villainess fantasy? Are you out of your damn mind?"

Subaru scoffed. "I've got cultists, tragic backstory, otherworldly powers, a wardrobe to kill for, and I brainwash people into loving me. What part of this doesn't scream villainess fantasy to you?"

Al pointed a gloved finger at her. "The part where people get eaten alive, frozen to death, tortured by beasts, dismembered by vampires, and burned alive by their own magic. That's not 'villainess fantasy,' that's dark fantasy. This world's practically Berserk with prettier faces."

"Ugh, just because it's violent doesn't mean it can't be fabulous," Subaru retorted. "Villainess fantasy can have horrifying stuff. It just means I get to monologue dramatically while wearing nice boots."

Al raised both hands. "Lady, you are literally organizing a cult movement while playing dress-up with serial killers. You've got the vibe of someone who just murdered the main love interest in chapter ten."

Subaru held up a finger. "That's only if he deserved it."

"Dark. Fantasy," Al repeated.

"Villainess Fantasy," Subaru insisted.

"You will brainwash a town to love a random boy just because you felt bad for him!"

"That's character development!"

Al groaned, rubbing the side of his helmet. "You witches, man."

Subaru grinned. "Say it again."

"Witch."

She smirked, posing with one hand on her hip. "Damn right."

Then he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if they were conspirators beneath the shadow of a palace wall. "Alright, I'll bite. What's your big plan, Witchy?"

Subaru raised a platinum eyebrow, the edges of her lips curled into a teasing smirk. "And what if you're pretending to be an ally, huh? Ever think of that, Al?"

Al blinked, unimpressed. "Aren't you the most powerful witch right now? What're you scared of me for?"

"Satella is stronger, then there are two or three," Subaru replied with a shrug, her tone casual but with an edge. "But I get what you're saying. Doesn't mean I don't take precautions. Being paranoid is kind of a thing with us witches. Comes with the territory."

Al scratched the side of his helmet, then looked her dead in the eye. "Look. I don't care what you're plotting. I only care about Hime-sama. If you promise me, on whatever weird cosmic honor system you follow, that Priscilla won't be harmed in your scheme… then I'll help you."

Subaru tilted her head, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear. "Ho? You sure like Priscilla. You want me to make her crush on you or something? I could. It's not even hard for me."

"No thanks!" Al waved his hands in front of him quickly. "That's… twisted. You're way too comfortable with that stuff. Seriously. Are you sure you're a good witch?"

"I'm the Witch of Vainglory," Subaru said, tapping her chest. "Good or bad is relative."

"That's not reassuring."

"Welcome to the world of being a Pandora," she said dryly. "Anyway... fine. Deal. She won't be harmed." Then her eyes glinted mischievously. "Unless she attacks me first. In that case, no promises."

"Fair," Al muttered with a sigh. "So? What's the master plan?"

Subaru looked around the busy Pristella street, watching as vendors shouted prices, children ran laughing, and nobles in carriages passed with guards. Then she leaned in and began to whisper details into his ear—about the cultists hiding in plain sight, about manipulating the flow of city guards, about staged incidents to provoke hero reactions, and finally about the real goal: unmasking the corruption beneath the surface while making herself look like a divine messenger, not a villain.

Al blinked a few times once she was done. "...Alright. That's... actually pretty clever."

"You sound surprised."

"It's got holes, but I've seen worse plans from actual nobles."

"Holes?" Subaru asked with a playful scowl. "Where?"

"Lemme explain, Big Sister…"

Chapter Text

SiriusIsIndeedFortuna

When Subaru arrived at the restaurant, it was too late. The scent of roasted meat mixed with the sharp iron tang of blood made her stomach turn: not from hunger, but from rage. Tables were overturned, chairs shattered, and the walls were smeared in red. Plates still lay on the floor, half-eaten meals abandoned in terror. The bodies were already cold. A family of four slumped over what had been a celebration meal. A waiter's corpse lay across the threshold, eyes glassy, mouth open mid-scream.

And standing right in the center of it all, their hands still wet with memory, both figuratively and perhaps literally: were the Sin Archbishops of Gluttony.

Roy Alphard was licking his fingers, tilting his head with a lazy smile. "Mmm, that kid had the flavor of regret. Did you catch that, Lye?"

Lye Batenkaitos, grinning like a madman, pirouetted on one foot before stopping dramatically. "Oh yes, yes yes! Regret, with a side of dreams and... a dash of rosemary, perhaps? Exquisite!"

Subaru stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. Her blue eyes were calm, too calm, her hands folded neatly behind her back. Her mouth moved into a smile that didn't touch her eyes. "What... is this?"

"Oh? Pandora-sama, so good of you to come!" Roy said, mock bowing with a flourish. "We were just... tasting the local cuisine."

"I can see that," she said sweetly. "A shame no one invited me to the buffet."

Lye tilted his head, eyes wide. "You're mad."

Subaru's smile didn't fade. "No, no, why would I be mad? It's not like we're trying to not get caught, right? Not like we're blending in with the locals or anything."

Roy snorted. "Please, these sheep don't know anything. A few missing faces won't—"

Subaru snapped her fingers.

They didn't fly through the air: no, that would've been too dramatic. Instead, an invisible force grabbed Roy by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Hard. Then Lye was lifted by the ankle and whipped sideways into a pile of overturned chairs. The wood cracked beneath him. Both Archbishops groaned but laughed, even as Subaru floated them like dolls and crashed them again into opposite walls.

"You're supposed to be my allies," she said calmly, voice like honey poisoned with arsenic. "You're supposed to follow orders. You're not supposed to eat the entire dining staff of a city restaurant in broad daylight. Do you know how many witnesses there were? Do you want to bring down every Knight and authority figure in this place before I even get to start my plan?"

Roy chuckled, his voice muffled as he slid down the wall. "Ohoho... so scary when she's mad."

"I like her like this," Lye wheezed, coughing but still grinning. "Really gets the blood flowing. And not just mine!"

Subaru dropped them. Hard. Both hit the floor with heavy thuds. She turned, brushing imaginary dust off her overcoat. "Idiots."

Roy sat up slowly, massaging his jaw. "Y'know, for a witch of vainglory, you sure act like you care about appearances."

"That's literally what vainglory is, moron," Subaru snapped, shooting him a glare. "And yes, I do care about appearances. Because if you two keep this up, we'll have Reinhard and every Sword Saint wannabe breathing down our necks before I even start my show."

Lye cracked his neck, clearly unbothered. "Reinhard, huh? Tasty."

"No," Subaru growled. "No tasting Reinhard. No tasting anyone until I say so. If you disobey me again, I won't just slam you into a wall, I'll erase your damn names and leave you in a void so empty even you can't chew your way out of it."

That shut them up, at least for a second.

Then Roy clapped slowly, mockingly. "Oh, terrifying. Our little villainess is growing up."

Lye added, "Maybe you'll even be the next Satella. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

Subaru didn't respond. She stared at them, not speaking, until they grew uncomfortable under her gaze. Finally, with matching annoyed grunts, they got up and walked away. Roy whistled as he kicked over a bloodied plate. "Whatever. We'll behave... for now."

Lye waved without turning. "No promises though!"

Subaru stood there, breathing out slowly as her fists unclenched. Her knuckles were white.

Damn them. They were strong, dangerous, and completely unpredictable. She could barely keep them on a leash, and every second she didn't, they were ready to burn it all down in a mindless feast.

And yet, she needed them.

She stared down at the blood on the floor, her reflection twisted in a pool of wine and blood. Her blue eyes shimmered with something unreadable.

This was going to be much harder than she thought.

Ō—Ō

The wooden walls of the inn creaked with the hum of dinner hour, warm smells of stew and bread in the air, lanternlight casting soft shadows across the room. Subaru sat at the table, trying to focus on her bowl of vegetable soup, sipping quietly, all the while regretting every life choice that led her to sit between these two maniacs. Sirius, across from her, had half her body twitching violently while loudly whispering love poems to a spoon she had bent into a heart shape. "Love! Looooove! Looooove is in the air, don't you feel it, Pandora-sama?!"

Petelgeuse was rocking back and forth beside her, eyes wide and bloodshot, his smile stretching unnaturally. "Sloth! Sloth, I say! The glorious stillness of sloth, the beauty of inaction, the miracle of lack of productivity! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Please shut up," Subaru muttered under her breath, stirring the soup with increasingly aggressive turns of the spoon. "Normal people don't shout about abstract concepts. Normal people don't turn spoons into love charms. Normal people don't pull their own hair out for fun."

Sirius began to slam her head slowly into the table, whispering Emilia's name under her breath like a curse. Petelgeuse immediately got jealous and started slapping himself across the face. "No, no, no! That's not how you show devotion!"

"STOP THAT!" Subaru hissed, grabbing both of their wrists. "You're supposed to be acting normal. Normal. This isn't lunatic cosplay hour!"

Then, the inn door opened with a light chime.

Subaru's soul fell out of her body.

There stood Emilia, hair like silver moonlight, a gentle yet curious expression on her face. Right behind her: Rem, Fredrica, and Otto. They entered chatting softly, the kind of pleasant group that radiated Main Character Energy.

Subaru went pale.

"Don't. Move," she whispered through gritted teeth to her tablemates. "Don't speak. Don't breathe funny. Just sit there like regular people and smile politely."

But of course, that wasn't going to happen.

Sirius's face twitched violently as her eyes landed on Emilia. Her nose flared. "HER! The silver-haired THIEF of affections! Pandora-sama, allow me the honor—I shall break her into a poem of suffering! LET ME—!"

Subaru tackled her before she could leap over the table, arms wrapped around her waist in a desperate bear hug. "NO YOU WON'T!" she yelled, teeth clenched. Sirius flailed and shouted, her hair practically crackling from the rage. "LOVE DEMANDS JUSTICE! JUSTICE DEMANDS EMILIA'S LIMBS!"

"You're making it worse!" Subaru hissed, yanking her down by the collar and literally pinning her under the table. "Stay! Bad witch! STAY!"

Sirius hissed and bit the leg of the table.

Petelgeuse, giggling, started clapping wildly and twitching his shoulders like he was mid-exorcism. "So passionate! So much vigor! Ah, I love to see a woman so devoted! HAHAHA!"

Emilia turned at the noise.

Subaru froze.

Her violet eyes scanned the room until they landed directly on the source of chaos. Subaru tried to smile. Tried.

Emilia's brows furrowed. Her eyes widened slowly—too slowly. Her pupils shrank like she'd seen a ghost.

Then she whispered, voice cracking: "Mama… Fortuna?"

Subaru blinked. "What."

"And… Guese?" Her lips trembled. "It can't be…"

Oh, hell. Subaru didn't even get time to say "wrong people!" because Emilia was already moving—fast. She barreled across the inn like a silver bullet, arms wide.

"NOPE!" Subaru yelped, her hand shooting out as she paralyzed Sirius mid-scream. The other woman froze like a broken puppet, locked mid-lunge with her mouth open in pure fury. She fell to the floor like a fainting goat.

Then she turned to Petelgeuse, who was already starting to vibrate violently with either emotion or demonic intent. "Nope, nope, NOPE!" Subaru snapped her fingers again. Paralysis hit him like a switch and he slumped forward into his soup bowl with a weird gurgle, his head slowly sliding sideways in the gravy.

Emilia dove forward and wrapped her arms around both of them like a child reuniting with long-lost family. "You're alive! You're alive!" she wept.

Subaru stood there. Absolutely dumbfounded. Spoon still halfway to her mouth. She blinked. "I… what?"

Rem, Fredrica, and Otto stood rooted at the entrance, jaws collectively unhinged.

Otto whispered, "Is Emilia-sama hugging random people again?"

Fredrica nodded. "Looks like it."

Rem tilted her head. "Why does one of them look like one moment away from blowing up?"

Otto scratched his head. "And why is Emilia-sama sobbing into his face?"

Subaru, eyes wide and soup forgotten, watched as Petelgeuse—still paralyzed—made faint zombie sounds, his lips twitching as if he were trying to scream and swoon at the same time.

This was going to be hard to explain.

Emilia knelt between the slumped forms of Sirius and Petelgeuse, cradling each of their hands like porcelain dolls as her eyes brimmed with tears. "What happened to you two?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Why are you like this?! It's been… it's been so many years, and now you're here—but why aren't you moving?" She looked up at Subaru, pleading. "Why aren't they talking? Why are they frozen like that?!"

Subaru straightened her back, gently placing her spoon down on the table like a responsible adult trying very hard not to scream. "Um… excuse me, miss, but who exactly are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice innocent and confused. "You seem to know them?"

Emilia looked up, her smile trembling with raw emotion. "I'm Emilia," she said, voice warm and fragile. "This is my Aunt Fortuna, she raised me when I was little. And that man… he's Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti. He used to visit us all the time when I was younger. He was… he was kind."

Subaru blinked. "He was what now?"

Emilia nodded fiercely, tears beginning to streak down her cheeks. "He used to bring me flowers and weird candy, and he used to laugh in this strange way. And Aunt Fortuna always told me he had a good heart, even if he was strange! But… but they died! I thought they were both gone! How… how are they alive?!"

Subaru gave the most forced, most serene smile she had ever managed in her entire life, a single bead of sweat trailing down her temple. "Ah… I see. That's… that's so… touching."

Emilia scooted forward on her knees. "Please, miss. Who are you? Why are they with you? What happened to them?"

Subaru put her hands together and gave a little bow. "I go by Pandora," she said, voice smooth like buttered lies. "And as for what happened ah, it's a bit of a long story, you see…"

Otto and Rem leaned in slightly. Fredrica folded her arms, watching with her calm, suspicious gaze.

Subaru cleared her throat. "Well… I found them a while ago. In the forest. Both of them were in a terrible state. Their minds seemed… broken. They didn't remember who they were, and sometimes they'd just… stop moving. Like that."

She gestured delicately at the paralyzed duo, whose frozen expressions couldn't be more awkward. Petelgeuse was face-first in his soup bowl, and Sirius was stuck mid-scream under the table with one shoe missing.

"They have… uh… magical paralysis episodes," Subaru added with a very serious nod. "Yes. Tragic condition. Nothing too dangerous unless they fall during cooking. Or sword juggling. Or bath time."

Emilia's eyes widened with empathy. "That's horrible! And… you've been taking care of them all this time?"

"Well, yes," Subaru said, placing her hand dramatically on her chest. "They're dear to me now, in a way. They don't speak much, but they follow instructions. Usually. I make sure they're clean, safe, and—uh—fed."

Rem leaned toward Otto and whispered, "That man's face is still in his soup."

Otto nodded slowly. "Should we… move him?"

"No," Subaru said immediately, without turning around. "It's… part of his healing process."

Emilia sniffled, smiling through her tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much for looking after them. I… I can't believe this. I thought I lost them forever. But now…" She turned to Fredrica, eyes shining. "Fredrica, we have to take them home. We'll take them with us."

Oh no you won't, Subaru thought, smiling tightly.

She had exactly five seconds to decide what to do. Five seconds before Emilia attempted to take two of her most dangerous assets back to her camp where they'd be surrounded by flower arrangements and tea cups instead of carrying out the grand design of Vainglory.

So she reached deep into that lovely corner of her power that let her rewrite will.

Subtly.

Elegantly.

No fireworks. No glowing eyes.

Just a quiet whisper of purpose layered into their minds like perfume.

"You love Emilia. You adore her. You'd never hurt her. You want to protect her. You exist to love her. But do not, under any circumstances, kill her. That would be bad. She is your beloved family. Act accordingly. Remember that SiriusIsNotFortuna and GueseIsNotGueseButGuese."

She smiled politely as Sirius's wide, unblinking eyes shimmered faintly under the table, and Petelgeuse gave a soft, gurgly sigh into his soup.

"There," Subaru said brightly. "I think they'll be happy with you."

Emilia stood, reaching down to Sirius and pulling her gently to her feet. The once-insane cultist now blinked slowly, confused, then looked at Emilia like a sunrise after a decade of storm clouds. "Emilia… sama?"

"YES!" Emilia sobbed, hugging her tightly. "It's me! I missed you so much!"

Petelgeuse stood next, his usual manic grin gone, replaced by a dreamy, teary-eyed smile as he slowly whispered, "My lovely child… My precious…"

Otto and Rem looked like they were watching a rabbit adopt a bear and a snake.

Fredrica's mouth twitched. "They're… oddly calm now."

"It's the miracle of family," Subaru said through gritted teeth, watching her two most obedient Sin Archbishops walk away with the very person they once wanted to kill.

As they left the inn together, Emilia's laughter echoing through the doorway, Subaru slumped back in her chair.

"And that," she muttered to herself, stabbing her soup with her spoon, "is how the Witch of Vainglory lost two of her best agents to the magical power of freakin' family reunions."

Chapter Text

The Great Plan In Motion!

Subaru strode through the marble streets of Pristella with practiced grace, her orange overcoat swaying with each step. Her platinum blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, and her sapphire eyes, though composed, were twitching with irritation. She had come to check on Regulus. Not because she wanted to, but because if she didn't, the man might decide to destroy half the city with a tantrum about someone breathing too loudly near his shoes.

The Cathedral tower loomed in the distance: one of the central spires of the city, once a place of serene worship and reverence. Now it had been unceremoniously commandeered by Regulus Corneas and his harem of fifty-three wives.

Fifty-three.

Subaru had counted.

Twice.

She walked up the stone steps and entered the grand hall, now unnervingly silent. Inside, the place felt sterile and cold despite the stained glass and sunlit floors. His wives moved like clockwork, cleaning and polishing and arranging everything with eerie synchronicity. No speaking. No smiling. Just perfect, efficient obedience.

Like puppets.

Creepy puppets.

Regulus himself stood in the center of the cathedral, dressed in his white and gold attire, arms outstretched like he was conducting a symphony of silence. He looked like a man absolutely infatuated with his own voice, his own presence, his own everything.

"Ah! There she is," he said as his eyes met Subaru's, his lips curling into that smug grin that made her want to smack a tree with her head. "Pandora. Are you amazed? Are you stunned by the perfection I have brought to this crude, unsanitary city?"

Subaru smiled thinly. "Oh yes. I'm absolutely… breathtakingly overwhelmed."

He nodded, proud. "As you should be. It's only natural to be struck speechless by such an immaculate demonstration of order, discipline, and devotion. These womenn: my wives, understand the value of unity. Of purity. Of obedience. You could learn from them."

Her eyebrow twitched again. She wanted to shove a mop into his mouth. Instead, she kept smiling. "Of course. You've really… transformed the place."

"I know, right?!" he beamed, twirling once. "It was a dump before. But look at it now! Pristine. Peaceful. Uncontaminated by the indecent behavior of commoners."

"Right," Subaru said, scanning the place with a tired eye. "Anyway, the attack's scheduled for tomorrow. I came to give you a heads-up so you can be—"

"Anosa!" Regulus snapped, his voice suddenly cutting like a blade. "You think you can command me? Me?! I am Regulus Corneas! I do not take orders. I am the order!"

Subaru stared at him, blank.

"You should be grateful. Grateful that I'm even lending my time, my grace, my presence to this filthy mission of yours," he said, pacing in front of her with dramatic hand gestures. "Your little operation is unclean, chaotic, and lacking the structured beauty I embody. Honestly, I should be praised every morning for agreeing to step foot in this disgraceful plan."

She blinked. "Uh-huh."

"I do whatever I want to do. And if I feel like participating in this farce of a coordinated effort, it's because I choose to; not because of some pre-ordained schedule laid out by you."

Subaru let out a slow breath, forcing her words out through a clenched jaw. "Okay. So. You'll still be there?"

Regulus sniffed and looked away dramatically. "If I decide to grace the battlefield with my presence, it will be on my terms. And you will welcome it like the blessing it is."

Subaru nodded slowly. "Of course. Thank you for your... divine intervention."

Regulus grinned, pleased. "Good. You're learning."

Subaru turned on her heel, walking back toward the exit, muttering under her breath. "I swear to Satella, if he doesn't show up tomorrow, I'm turning that cathedral into a fish market…"

Ō—Ō

Blood stained the floors of the upper balcony, thick and sticky and fresh. It dripped over the railings and soaked into the wooden planks, turning them dark beneath the feet of a woman in red. Elsa Granhiert was kneeling over a slumped body, her curved blade humming with delight as she carved another slow, careful line across her victim's abdomen. A symphony of muffled gurgles played out beneath her touch.

Behind her, Mili, the young girl with a cherubic face and the soul of a vulture, was giggling as she strung severed fingers along a thread, humming a cheerful little tune that did not belong anywhere near this horror. She had arranged her corner with a decorator's eye, toes and ears and a neat little pile of polished teeth set in a crescent pattern on the floor. Her masterpiece: a necklace of noses, was now complete.

Capella sat nearby on a cushioned seat, legs crossed and fangs peeking from her glossy red lips. She watched the carnage with the adoration of a mother watching her children perform a school play. Her wings twitched now and then, and she cooed happily. "Oh, my little darlings, such creativity~"

That was when Subaru dropped onto the balcony like a thundercloud in a powder-orange overcoat. Her boots tapped lightly on the bloody floor as she straightened. Her expression was fixed into a practiced, polite smile. But her eyes… her eyes were two pits of cosmic fury behind painted lashes.

Mili looked up brightly and held up her prize, nose-necklace swinging. "Pandora-sama~! Look what I made! Do you like it? I call it 'Scent of Love!'"

Subaru stared at it for three solid seconds. She didn't blink. "It's… unique."

Capella clapped her hands. "Isn't it divine?! Mili has such an artistic soul, don't you think? Oh! And Elsa got that man's liver out in one go this time! I was so proud~!"

"Capella…" Subaru said, her voice syrupy smooth, "why… did you kill people?"

Capella rolled her eyes and flopped back lazily in her seat, spreading her wings like she was lounging in the sun. "Oh, please. Who cares if a few insignificant pests are crushed here or there? My girls just wanted to play. Isn't that right, Elsa?"

Elsa gave a smile that could chill bone. "It's not every day you get such soft intestines," she murmured, wiping her blade on what remained of a silk dress.

Subaru's smile didn't waver. Not even a twitch. But her aura flickered for a fraction of a second and then Capella's body exploded into thirty perfect pieces.

Blood rained from the ceiling like confetti. Her wings scattered apart like butchered meat. Her head bounced off the railing and rolled to a stop near Mili's feet. The girl looked at it, blinked, then smiled.

"Again?" Mili chirped.

The pieces of Capella began to hiss, boil, and then pull back together with a crackling squelch. Her bones knit. Her skin sealed. Her eyes popped back in with a wet plop. When she stood again, perfectly whole, her smile had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, she giggled.

"Ahahaha~! You've gotten so creative with your punishments lately, Pandora-sama. I like this new violent streak in you!"

Subaru dusted her hands, sighed deeply, and fought the very loud, very real urge to slam Capella into the moon. Instead, she kept smiling. "I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself. But just remember… no more playing. No more gutting. No more creative arts and crafts with body parts. Be ready for tomorrow."

Capella gave a mock salute, licking a drip of blood off her cheek. "Yes, yes, tomorrow. Big plan, big moment, big drama. We'll be ready~!"

"Good," Subaru said as she turned to go, pausing just long enough to glance at the pile of ears by the door. "And maybe sweep up in here. It's starting to smell like a butcher's shop."

She vanished before the next liver hit the floor.

Ō—Ō

Subaru paced like a caged cat across the upper balcony of a crummy old inn, the wooden planks creaking under her boots, the ends of her orange overcoat flaring behind her with each turn. Her arms were flailing as she ranted, hands slicing through the air like she was conducting a symphony of annoyance.

"I swear, these cultists are driving me up the damn wall! I tell them, act normal, just act normal for like five seconds! But nooo, Sirius is screaming about 'looooove' and trying to light herself on fire again in the middle of the market square, Petelguese is eating mud while reciting scripture to a pile of rocks, Capella's decorating a murder corner with toes and eyelashes like she's on Pinterest, and Regulus… Regulus is out here with his 53 brides like he's the goddamn Messiah of Misogyny! And they don't listen to me!" she practically shrieked.

Al, leaning against the wall with his helmet tipped back slightly, raised his hands and patted her back like she was a volcano about to pop. "I feel ya, Big Sister," he said, nodding solemnly. "That sounds like one hell of a circus. You're the ringmaster and the clowns set themselves on fire."

Subaru groaned and leaned her forehead against the railing, voice muffled. "I'm the Witch of Vainglory. I'm supposed to be all powerful and scary and mysterious and whatnot, but these psychos treat me like a school teacher with no authority! Like I'm just here to watch the chaos unfold with a smile!"

Al scratched his chin. "Then why don't you just... y'know, kill 'em?"

She turned her head slightly, her expression flat. "Oh yeah? Just kill them?"

Al shrugged. "I mean, you're the witch. Don't witches smite people with a snap or a spell or something?"

Subaru lifted her head slowly, voice low and dry. "Capella regenerates. Infinitely. You kill her, she just reforms with a laugh and a boner for pain. You can't out-horror that chick. Regulus is literally invincible as long as he's inside that stupid authority of his. You could drop a meteor on him and he'd still be monologuing about how perfect he is. The others? Yeah, the average cultists are squishy, super killable, and dumb as bricks... but the Gluttony brothers?" She rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out. "They're a mess. I do know how to kill them, but I'm not sure what happens if I do it. You know, with all this 'Witch of Vainglory' baggage? What if it wakes up something worse in me?"

Al raised a brow. "Worse than telling a little girl her nose-necklace was 'unique' while not vomiting on the spot?"

She gave him a look. "I'm serious! And yeah, a part of me... there's this voice sometimes. This whisper in the back of my mind that says stuff like 'Where's the fun in that?' Like it wants me to enjoy the hard way. I know it's the real Pandora, or her will, or her leftover ego or whatever you wanna call it. And I hate to say it, but she's got a point. There's something about making other people fight the monsters I can't beat... it's poetic."

Al leaned forward, interested. "So what's your plan, then? Who fights who?"

Subaru's lips curled up in the kind of grin that only someone planning a very specific kind of nightmare could pull off. "Easy. Reinhard van Astrea. The Sword Saint. Mr. 'I Breathe and the World Obeys.' He's going to deal with Regulus. I already know how to kill that smug son of a bitch, but Reinhard will do it better. And you? You, Al, are going to deal with Capella."

Al recoiled like she'd thrown a snake at him. "What?! Me?! Why the hell do I have to fight the regenerative lizard bimbo?!"

"Because I believe in you~" Subaru said sweetly, clasping her hands under her chin and giving him a mock-cutesy expression.

"Don't give me that anime face!" he snapped. "That's evil! That's weaponized evil!"

"You'll be fine! I'll tell you how to kill her."

"You better write me an entire scroll and give me backup dancers while you're at it."

"I'll even draw a diagram."

"Better be color-coded!"

She laughed, then sighed, rubbing her face. "And now, Petelguese and Sirius are apparently Emilia's long lost family members and I lost my two most loyal followers!"

Al blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah! Turns out Petelguese is her 'Uncle Geuse' and Sirius is her 'Aunt Fortuna' or some crap. She hugged them. I had to paralyze them before Sirius decided to roast her in a bearhug or Guese started doing cartwheels out of joy and exploded a lamp. And then... she took them. Like stray dogs. And I couldn't stop her. I couldn't kill her. So I... I brainwashed them to love her. Like a good family should."

Al looked at her like she was growing antlers. "...That's dark."

"I know! And yet, it was the least dark option available. I am so screwed. And we attack tomorrow."

He exhaled slowly, then clapped her on the back again. "Well then, Big Sister... sounds like one hell of a show."

"Yeah," she muttered. "Let's hope we don't all get canceled halfway through the season."

Ō—Ō

The sky over Pristella was painted with the soft hues of dawn, streaks of lavender and gold spilling over the river canals and cobbled streets like an artist's final touch. Morning mist clung to the rooftops and curled through alleys as if the city itself held its breath, waiting for the day to begin. And above it all, perched atop the highest spire of the great clocktower, stood a lone figure, her orange overcoat billowing slightly in the cold wind, platinum blonde hair glinting in the light of a new sun.

Subaru, the Witch of Vainglory, watched the waking city with a distant look in her blue eyes. From here, Pristella looked like a toy city: quaint, almost innocent. But she knew better. Below her, somewhere in the winding streets and waterways, the last vestiges of the Witch Cult were preparing to tear the city apart. But this time, they weren't the only ones with a plan. No, this time, the board was hers. The pieces were hers. The game… hers.

She raised her hand slowly, fingers loose, elegant. Then—snap.

The air shimmered briefly, like reality had rippled in place. In an instant, she was no longer simply watching from afar. Her mind stretched, reaching like an invisible thread pulled taut. Her vision doubled and then refocused—now, she saw someone. Felt.

The tiny blonde royal candidate was asleep, sprawled like a wildcat across her inn bed, her limbs flung in all directions, hair a mess and drool trailing from the corner of her mouth. But when Subaru took hold of her mind, there was no resistance. Felt twitched once, then her eyes flew open, sharp and feral, but hollowed now. She didn't hesitate.

In one fluid motion, Felt leapt out of bed, vaulted through the window like a bandit evading the law, and landed catlike on the narrow alley outside. Then she started moving, no, marching. Purposeful. Her body moved like a marionette under a master's pull, every step directed, every breath calculated.

She headed straight toward the cathedral. Straight to Regulus.

On top of the tower, Subaru watched both through Felt's eyes and her own. The duality didn't strain her, this body, this witch, handled such power with ease. Her smile was faint, almost childlike. The beginning had come. The opening move.

"So it begins," she whispered to the wind, the bells above her not yet tolling, the city not yet waking to the chaos that was about to descend.

Let the end of the Witch Cult commence.

Ō—Ō

Regulus Cornelius stepped lightly across the marble floor of the chapel's entrance, his polished shoes clicking in rhythm with the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner. A book was balanced on his knee as he sat on an elegant wooden chair,his chair. Hand-carved, gilded edges, legs reinforced so they would not buckle under the weight of perfection. He leafed through the pages with one gloved hand, though his eyes weren't on the words. They were simply there to give the appearance of intellect, something the world expected of someone so magnificent.

"Tch," he clicked his tongue, shutting the book. "This is an utter waste of time. These tales have nothing of value. Unlike me."

His white coat fluttered as he stood, brushing off imaginary dust from the collar. The morning was calm, still. A bit too calm. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the sunlight daring to stream through the stained-glass windows without permission.

"Ugh. That Pandora. That nasty, arrogant woman. Always acting like she knows everything. Always smiling. A person shouldn't smile so much. It's disturbing." He hissed through his teeth. "And yet, here I am, following her damn plans. Not because I want to! But because the gospel says so. Because if I don't, she'll pull some cheap, humiliating stunt again—"

Creaaaak.

The massive chapel doors groaned open, and a gust of wind slipped inside. Regulus turned, slightly startled—then blinked.

There she was.

A petite blonde girl. Crimson eyes. Smooth pale skin. She was lovely in a rough, sharp way. Like a blade disguised as a rose. She stepped inside, confident, almost lazy, her hands behind her head, as if strolling through a park. But her eyes… they were blank.

And that blankness made Regulus grin.

"Well, well," he said, his voice lilting and refined, like a noble host greeting a guest for tea. "What have we here, anosa? Who are you, my lovely trespasser?"

The girl stopped in front of him, lowered her hands, and gave a short, perfect bow. "I'm Felt," she said. "I heard that the great Regulus Cornelius was here. So I came to see him."

Regulus's eyes sparkled with delight. "Ohhh? So you've heard of me? Of course you have. I mean, who hasn't? But to have admirers this young, this… spirited? How delightful. How validating." He spread his arms wide, dramatic. "Indeed, you gaze upon Regulus Cornelius,the very embodiment of moral and aesthetic perfection! I am the standard against which all others should be measured!"

Felt straightened up. Her expression didn't change. Her gaze remained fixed, emotionless.

He loved that.

"A blank face. A quiet girl. One who doesn't speak unless spoken to," he said approvingly. "What a rare find."

He leaned in slightly, scrutinizing her with a gleam in his eye. "Felt, was it? Tell me something very important. Are you, perhaps, a virgin?"

She nodded.

He practically glowed. "Ex-cel-lent! Oh, marvelous! Truly, a miracle in this debauched age! You're pure. Unsullied. Worthy!"

He clapped once. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the chapel. "Very well then! Today shall be your lucky day. I hereby declare our wedding to be held immediately. You shall become my wife! Number seventy-three!" He swept an arm toward the altar like a magician revealing the final act. "Join the ranks of perfection!"

Behind him, at his word, the side door creaked open and a chorus of soft footsteps followed. His wives filed out in pairs, fifty-two women, all dressed in white, all with matching stoic expressions. They didn't speak. They didn't blink. They simply moved. Like dolls guided by invisible strings. Each bore the same vacant obedience in their eyes.

Felt didn't move, but her feet, guided by Subaru's will, carried her forward.

"This—this is magnificent!" Regulus clapped again, then laughed with the breathless joy of a man who believed the world had just offered him a priceless treasure. "I knew this filthy, insignificant city had to have something of value. And now, here you are, dropped into my lap by fate itself. Or perhaps… by Pandora. Not that I would ever thank her, mind you! Hmph! That nasty woman should count herself blessed that I even tolerate her presence."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway, let's not dwell on her. Today is a day of celebration! Someone bring flowers! And a veil!"

Felt was led inside the chapel by the procession of wives, her body calm, her mind submerged under Subaru's control.

Outside, the bells of Pristella's main square began to chime the hour. Morning had come.

And with it, the chaos began to bloom.

Chapter Text

Ending The Gluttony Forever

The morning air of Pristella carried an uncanny stillness, just the kind of silence that crept in before something absolutely horrendous happened. And right on cue, Capella Emerada Lugnica, the advocate of Lust, decided that it was the perfect time to raze the city's mayoral building to the ground. Flames weren't involved, nor any satisfying explosion of structure or stone. No, Capella's tastes were far more grotesque.

Instead, she waltzed into the government complex like a noblewoman arriving at a party and within minutes, the staff members, guards, clerks, and everyone else who had been working there were turned into a writhing mass of grotesque insectoid abominations. Beetle-men screamed from multiple mouths, office workers sprouted antennae and pincers, a secretary sobbed through compound eyes while her arms molted into twitching stick-bug limbs. Capella twirled, applauded herself, and sang lullabies to her new "babies" while Mili laughed like a child opening birthday presents and Elsa simply sliced the ones who were too slow to transform.

"Ohh, look at this one!" Mili giggled, holding up a man's head. "He's still trying to cry with tear ducts he doesn't have anymore!"

"I call that art," Capella said, flicking her long tongue as she posed with the backdrop of chaos. "My girls are just so expressive. You see this? This is real change. Not like those boring politicians."

Elsa tilted her head, blood glistening on her blade. "One of them begged. I love it when they beg."

Subaru Natsuki, the Witch of Vainglory, didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow as she stood atop a nearby roof and looked down at the abattoir. The sun had only begun to climb past the rooftops of the water city, and already there were screams echoing between the canals. But despite the guttural noises, the smell of hemoglobin, and the chirping horror of insect-human hybrids, Subaru's blue eyes remained calm.

That was because she had planned for this.

She had expected Capella to act out. She wanted her to act out.

Over the past week, while the others busied themselves preparing for the attack, Subaru had taken extra care to manipulate and quietly orchestrate a little substitution. Specifically, she had emptied half of Lugnica's capital prison. Criminals, murderers, arsonists, slavers, deserters, corrupt nobles, those who had long since been sentenced to death or rotting away in chains, had been, through a week-long effort, secretly funneled into Pristella.

No one knew.

Not the guards, not the people, not even Capella and her goons.

To the sadistic Archbishop of Lust and her two deranged followers, they were just innocent little office workers, adorable civilians going about their morning like sheep to the slaughter. Let Capella believe she'd just turned a heroic mayor into a giant cockroach.

Subaru had no plans of correcting her.

As for the real civilians? They were safe. The mayor and all his aides were sleeping peacefully, deep within the enchanted slumber Subaru had cast across the clocktower's highest level, far from prying eyes and vicious claws.

Now, clad in her cropped white top, black shorts, long orange overcoat, and knee-high black stockings, Subaru walked the blood-slicked street with the same elegance as if she were taking a morning stroll through a flower garden. Her brown boots tapped against the stone gently, but the three figures walking beside her disrupted the grace.

The Gluttony triplets: Lye Batenkaitos, Roy Alphard, and Louis Arneb.

Lye was humming. Roy was giggling to himself and licking his thumb like it tasted of secrets. Louis was skipping.

"So, Big Sis," Roy chirped, "What're we doing today? Massacre? Brain theft? Taste test of memories?"

Subaru smiled gently, too gently. "Actually, I have something very special for you three."

"Ohh?" Lye tilted his head. "Do tell, do tell!"

Subaru slowed her steps as they neared a cozy little inn tucked between two merchant houses. Its windows were shuttered, and a few drunkards still lingered by the canal. She gestured toward it.

"In there is someone… troublesome," she said. "An obstacle that only you three can handle."

Louis giggled. "Troublesome? Sounds fun~ Can I bite them?"

"Oh, do more than bite," Subaru replied, voice as sweet as honey laced with arsenic. "I want everything inside this inn reduced to nothing. Memory, body, soul. Obliterate."

"Why?" Lye asked, blinking innocently.

"Because they threatened my plans," Subaru said with a convincing pout. "They made fun of me."

Three gasps in unison.

Roy looked horrified. "Made fun of you? How dare they!"

"They must be purged!" Lye cried.

"They will be delicious!" Louis added, clapping her hands.

Subaru stepped aside, gesturing like a grand hostess. "Well then. Go on. Show them the power of Gluttony."

The trio needed no more prompting. Laughing and screeching, they raced into the inn like children storming a candy shop, ready to consume anything and everything in sight.

Subaru just smiled and watched them vanish behind the doors.

Because inside that inn was not just anyone.

It was the Sword Saint himself, Reinhard van Astrea, recently woken and in a very, very bad mood.

Felt was missing. And the Sword Saint did not like it when the one person who could boss him around vanished.

As soon as the doors slammed shut behind the gluttons, Subaru turned on her heel and walked away. Her coat fluttered behind her like a cape. Her heart was calm, her smile ever in place.

That slight buzz of excitement in her chest, was it dread? Anticipation? A twisted thrill at seeing a plan unfold?

She didn't know.

What she did know was that it had begun. Every piece was moving. The lies, the threats, the quiet manipulations, everything was culminating toward this moment. She had successfully unleashed three devouring monsters into a den with the one man in Lugnica who could end them all. And they didn't even suspect it.

That sensation again… that curious warmth behind her ribs. Was it guilt?

No, not guilt.

Satisfaction.

Morbid fascination.

She had every intention of killing the Gluttony Siblings herself one day. She knew how to do it. She knew what would happen if she took that responsibility into her own hands. She could do it. But something inside her, something old, something vainglorious, whispered: Let them suffer. Let them fall by someone else's hand. Where's the fun in doing it the easy way?

She glanced back at the inn. Faint rumbling echoed from within. The fight had begun.

Subaru smiled wider.

The game was on.

Ō—Ō

Reinhard wasn't just irritated, he was seething. For someone like him, a man trained since childhood to keep every emotion in check and uphold the dignity of the Astrea name, that was saying something. But right now? Right now, the only thing holding his composure together was the razor edge of restraint, and it was fraying by the second.

Felt was missing.

The moment he'd woken up, the space beside his bed was empty. Her scent lingered faintly on the pillow, the sheets were still warm, but she was gone. Not out shopping. Not exploring. Not sneaking off to do something reckless. No, he knew her better than that. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He'd immediately invoked the Divine Protection of Guidance, dangerous power when misused, but necessary now. It had led him directly to a horrifying answer.

The Chapel. Felt was in the Chapel. And worse? She was being "prepared" for something.

He had pressed harder. Clarification through the Divine Protection had made his blood run cold.

A wedding.

A wedding.

Felt. Lady Felt. The thief-turned-princess. The wild, stubborn, infuriating, brilliant girl who kicked nobles in the shin and spat on formality. The one person who made him smile genuinely. She was being forced into a wedding.

That wasn't just unacceptable. That was blasphemous.

She was clearly under mind control. There was no universe in which Felt would voluntarily agree to something so... so refined, let alone marry a cultist. Because that's who had her. The Witch Cult. He could feel it. The city was under siege, madness running through the streets, and now this.

He'd tightened the laces on his boots and strapped his sword to his side in one fluid motion. No more waiting.

He was halfway to the door of the inn when the scream came. It was shrill, garbled, and short-lived, cut off halfway through.

He froze, then turned, gaze narrowing. Another scream. And another. Coming from downstairs.

His fingers flexed at his side, instinct driving his body before thought could catch up. In a blur, he was at the stairs, descending with measured calm. But even his trained pace couldn't completely hide the fury in his posture.

When he reached the bottom floor, he stopped. The inn's common room was in disarray, tables knocked over, lanterns smashed, blood on the floor in ugly streaks. But what caught his eye first was the presence of three small figures standing near the center of the room, all of them radiating an aura that stank of miasma.

Reinhard's nose wrinkled.

Witch Cult. No question.

The first one, a blonde girl with a wicked expression and a smile that didn't reach her eyes, stepped forward. Her voice was melodic, far too cheerful for the blood splattered across her dress.

"How wonderful," she said with a small twirl, "This is the Sword Saint nii-sama!"

Reinhard's eyes narrowed. "You know me."

"Of course we do!" said the second, a boy with short dark hair and a crooked grin. "We've wanted to eat your name more than once every time we read about you! Reinhard van Astrea, the man who can slay MaBeasts with a flick of his wrist, huhuhu!"

"Such pride! Such power! I want to eat it," said the third, another boy, younger looking, with wide eyes and drool dripping from his mouth like a dog at a feast. "Can I eat you? Can I? Just one nibble?"

Reinhard didn't answer. His gaze flicked to the corpses strewn about. A maid. A server. One of the city guards.

They'd been torn apart. Limbs shredded, torsos split open, faces frozen mid-scream.

He exhaled slowly, then reached up and ran a hand through his red hair. It was a small gesture, but for anyone who knew him, it was terrifying.

But these three… They weren't just necessary. They were the warm-up.

"Cultists," he said softly. "You killed these people."

"Mhmm!" chirped the blonde girl. "We were told to eliminate everything in this inn."

"Didn't even know you'd be here!" said the grinning boy. "But what a treat! It's fate! You're fate, Sword Saint! Delicious fate!"

The younger one started gnawing on his own hand in excitement. "Do you taste like metal? Or magic? Or heaven?"

Reinhard let out a long breath and stepped forward. His boots crunched glass beneath them. His aura flared, not with anger, but with pure, righteous judgment. "I should end you first," he said, more to himself than them.

The trio laughed. They didn't realize it. They didn't understand. They hadn't seen it coming.

Because from that moment on, there would be no escape.

Ō—Ō

Subaru stood high above the city, on the edge of the clocktower's platform, the wind teasing the hem of her coat and tugging at her platinum-blonde hair like a persistent child. Her expression was unreadable as she watched the streets below, but inside her chest, an ugly, twisted cocktail of satisfaction and guilt brewed. The sound of screams floated up to her, sharp and wet, followed by the echo of splintering wood, shattering glass, and that distinct crunch of something soft and alive being crushed beyond recognition.

The Gluttony siblings, Lye, Roy, Louis, were screaming.

And Reinhard, dear perfect Sword Saint Reinhard, was answering every one of their grotesque giggles and threats with the kind of wrath only a righteous hero could muster. One by one, he had dismantled them. No flourish. No hesitation. Not even surprise at what they were. Just judgment. Final, absolute, and terrifyingly precise. It wasn't a battle. It was a damnation.

Subaru clutched the edge of the clocktower, fingers tightening on the cold stone.

She should've felt victorious. She should've sighed with relief. Instead, a twinge, no, a flare of amusement tugged at the corners of her lips, and she caught herself smiling.

Smiling at their deaths.

A slow chuckle slipped out, unbidden and too sweet on her tongue, like candy coated in blood. Her smile faltered. Her face twitched. She brought a hand to her mouth, fingers trembling.

"No… What the hell?" she muttered, pressing her palm hard against her lips, as if trying to trap the laughter inside. "What the actual fuck?!"

Her other hand clawed into her hair, nails dragging along her scalp. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from thrill. A horrible, traitorous thrill. The part of her that was Subaru, truly, fully Subaru, was screaming in the back of her mind. But the surface?

The surface wanted more.

Is this what Pandora felt like? Was this her, Subaru, changing? Her personality wasn't just drifting. It was flipping like a coin, moment to moment, between concern and cruelty, fear and fascination.

"This isn't me," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I don't get off on this kind of shit. I'm not a monster."

But weren't you?

The thought crept in like poison. You used criminals as fodder to keep your Archbishop friends busy. You manipulated a child into walking into a den of wolves. You sent Felt into Regulus's claws knowing full well what kind of 'marriage' he meant. And you smiled. You enjoyed it.

Subaru sank to her knees on the tower's edge, breathing sharp and uneven. "No, no, no. I have a plan. A purpose. This is all to end the cult. I'm doing good. I'm doing good."

She clenched her fists, blood rushing in her ears. "I have to do this. I have to win. It doesn't matter what I become. I just… I have to win."

Down below, something moved. A flash of red in the chaos.

Reinhard.

She looked up, her heart still beating erratically, and there he was, standing outside the inn. Blood painted the tip of the sword he had picked up. Not his own, never his. He was pristine otherwise, like an avenging angel painted into a warzone. He turned slowly, looked around and then his gaze locked directly on her.

Even from this distance, she felt it.

That stare. Sharp. Unforgiving. Aware. He could see her. Knew she was there.

Subaru blinked. She raised a hand and waved. Not a panicked gesture. Not a signal for help. A casual, friendly wave.

Reinhard didn't move. He didn't wave back. But neither did he strike.

He simply turned, coat fluttering, and launched himself toward the chapel with impossible grace, vanishing in a single leap like a crimson blur.

Subaru let her hand fall.

She exhaled, slow and long, watching the place where he had disappeared.

"Alright," she said to herself, standing back up. Her knees ached, and her heart still hadn't decided if it was terrified or excited. "So that's done. Gluttony's gone."

She turned away from the view and narrowed her eyes toward another part of the city. Her mental map unfolded itself like clockwork. Al should've reached Capella by now. He'd volunteered, after all. And Capella was… a handful, to say the least. But Al was tough. Cursed, broken, snarky, but tough.

He could handle her. Maybe. And if not? Well… they'd figure something out.

Subaru's gaze shifted again, toward a quiet inn nestled among the rooftops, away from the madness. That was where the Emilia camp had holed up. The half-elf, Rem, Frederica, Otto, blissfully unaware of the war unraveling at their doorstep.

She narrowed her eyes.

It would be easy to reach them now. Easy to plant a new idea, a suggestion, a fear.

But she didn't. Because right now? She was curious Curious about what was about to unfold at the chapel.

Because if Reinhard had been angry before, now? Now he was livid.

And Regulus, for all his arrogant claims of invincibility, had no idea what was coming for him.

Subaru bit her lip. She wasn't excited, no. She was simply…

"Observing," she said out loud, crossing her arms.

Definitely not enjoying.

Chapter Text

Reinhard’s entrance was nothing short of divine retribution. The great oak doors of the chapel didn’t just creak open, they exploded inward, kicked off their hinges with such force that one of them, spinning like a discus, smacked Regulus straight in the face mid-monologue. The Archbishop of Greed was thrown back into a marble pillar, cracking it from the base like a fragile spine. Dust filled the air. His wives gasped in unison. Felt, who had just opened her mouth to say “I accept,” blinked in complete confusion.

Subaru, standing miles away on the clocktower, released the threads of mind control with a quiet snap of her fingers. The spell dissolved instantly. The cloud over Felt’s mind lifted and her eyes, crimson and clear again, widened in horror.

“What the—?!”

She stared down at herself. The frilly white gown, the trailing lace, the tiny bouquet still somehow clutched in her hand. She touched her veil, yanking it off like it was a cursed shroud. Her head swiveled from side to side, catching sight of the crushed altar, the wives in matching gowns, and then Reinhard, smiling at her with all the warm relief of a man who had just saved the love of his life.

“Felt-sama,” he breathed, stepping forward. “You’re safe. I’m so—”

“You asshole!” she shrieked, voice echoing off the stained-glass windows like a holy banshee’s curse.

Reinhard’s expression crumpled into utter confusion. “Huh?”

Felt launched the bouquet at him like a dagger. “You drugged me! You mind-fucked me into marrying you, you goddamn weirdo!! What kind of twisted pervert are you?!”

Reinhard looked like she’d slapped him with a divine punishment. “Wh—no! Felt-sama, I would never! I came to rescue you from him!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Felt jabbed a finger at him furiously. “You show up all smug and grinning in a chapel like some fairy tale prince and I wake up in a wedding dress?! Who else would do that except a freak like you?!”

Reinhard tried to step forward. “Please, you’re misunderstanding—”

“Oh, I hope I am!” she snapped. “Because if I find out you dressed me like this and were about to marry me while I was asleep, I swear I’ll cut your stupid face off with your own sword!”

“I didn’t—!” Reinhard actually looked panicked now, sweating in the presence of his tiny bride-to-be turned berserker. “Felt-sama, I only arrived a minute ago! I swear on the name of the Sword Saint, I wasn’t the one—”

“Then who was, huh? One of them?” She gestured at the still-watching wives, who were staring at her with dead-eyed disapproval, like she’d just insulted their book club.

Reinhard glanced at them, flustered. “No! It was the Archbishop of Greed—”

“Greed?!” Felt shrieked. “So now I’m marrying cultists too?! What the hell happened while I was asleep?!”

From across the chapel, one of the wives blinked. “I think she’s being rude…”

“She doesn’t understand the privilege,” whispered another.

“She’s not worthy to be the 73rd,” a third murmured with eerie calm.

Reinhard looked ready to cry.

“I don’t want to be the 73rd anything!” Felt shouted. “What kind of nightmare did I wake up into?! Reinhard! You idiot! You should’ve gotten me out of here before the damn dress!”

“I just got here!” he repeated helplessly.

Then there was a crunch.

A crackling, ugly sound, like bones realigning after being crushed under divine wrath.

Dust blew from the shattered altar as a figure rose from the rubble, brushing marble debris from his shoulders with delicate irritation. Regulus stood, eyes narrowed, his hair a mess of chalk dust and rage, a bloody welt on his cheek already sealing itself shut as his Authority kicked in.

“Anosa…” he growled, stretching his neck like someone warming up for a very theatrical monologue. “This is not how I imagined my wedding day to go. I was going to be gracious. I was going to be merciful. I even picked matching outfits.”

He stepped forward, eyes blazing. “But no. No, of course not. You filthy plebeians can’t stand to see perfection thrive. This is envy, that’s what this is! You saw someone better than you, me and decided to destroy my moment! You sick, disgusting monsters!”

Felt glared at him. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? And why do you have thirty wives?!”

“I am Regulus Corneas,” he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “The embodiment of what it means to be a man. The ideal husband. The one true groom of this foul and godless world!”

“You’re insane,” Felt deadpanned.

“She’s not wrong,” Reinhard muttered.

“Silence!” Regulus snapped, pointing at him like a judge passing sentence. “This is your fault, you sanctimonious swordsman! Ruining a sacred ceremony, invading a house of devotion! I should have known that Pandora’s little puppet would show up eventually.”

Felt blinked. “Wait—Pandora?”

Up on the tower, Subaru sighed and muttered, “Oh for fuck’s sake…”

Back in the chapel, Regulus snarled. “Yes! That pale-haired witch! Don’t think I don’t know she’s pulling the strings. All of you are just marionettes dancing in her play. But I won’t be controlled, I am the master of my own fate!”

Then he paused.

Glared at Reinhard.

“Except for you,” he added spitefully. “You’re about to die.”

Reinhard smiled, hand drifting to his sword. “You’re welcome to try.”

Felt ripped off her veil entirely. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on before I punch both of you?!”

The wives, still silent and still creepy, stepped aside in eerie synchronization, forming a path between Regulus and Reinhard.

It was time.

Reinhard’s eyes were calm, his posture flawless as ever. He stood with one hand on the hilt of his sword, but didn’t draw. The Dragon Sword Reid, strapped at his waist, remained stubbornly silent.

Regulus took notice. He squinted, then sneered. “Oh? What’s this now? You’re not even going to draw your weapon? How very disrespectful. Or is it that even your so-called legendary sword is trembling before me?”

Reinhard’s voice was quiet, but carried through the wrecked chapel like thunder wrapped in velvet. “Reid remains sheathed... because it doesn’t consider you a threat.”

Silence. Then—

Regulus twitched. His face twisted with the fury of a man who had just been told the world didn’t revolve around him. “Anosa!”

The ground ruptured as Regulus exploded forward in rage, moving faster than the eye could follow. His Authority crackled like lightning as he launched himself at Reinhard, who shifted just enough to avoid the first blow. A column shattered behind him. The second strike came, a swipe that split the air, Reinhard ducked under it and kicked Regulus square in the chest, launching him backward through a pew.

Debris flew. The chapel groaned under the pressure of the two monsters clashing inside it.

But Regulus was already up, brushing splinters from his pristine white coat. “You dare touch me? Me? I am inviolable! Sacred! You’re nothing but an overglorified house pet!”

He stomped his foot and the ground beneath Reinhard detonated like a landmine. Dust and holy stone erupted, obscuring the Sword Saint’s form. Regulus lunged again, fists swinging like hammers of wrath.

Outside, watching from the edge of the city atop her tower, Subaru leaned against the balustrade with her arms folded and a cup of stolen tea balanced precariously on the ledge beside her. Her blue coat fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, her hair glinting under the sun. Her expression? Somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

“What a disaster,” she muttered, sipping. “And yet… wildly entertaining.”

The chapel below groaned again as Reinhard punched Regulus through another wall. The building trembled, glass rained down like crystal tears. But again, Regulus stood, untouched. Not a bruise, not a scratch. His Authority repelled every blow.

Reinhard, sweating now, took a breath. “No damage… Again.”

“Of course not!” Regulus laughed, spinning. “Do you really think your pathetic mortal strikes could harm me? I am purity incarnate! The laws of the world bend around me! I am the man no harm can touch!”

Reinhard clenched his fist. “Then I’ll just have to break the laws.”

Another clash. Another explosion. The cathedral might as well have been made of sand and paper. The wives, unnaturally calm, had retreated to the edges, watching silently like devoted acolytes at a sermon of divine wrath.

Subaru exhaled slowly, letting her eyes trace the chaos below. “They’re going to bring down the whole damn building,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur.

But her fingers twitched at her side. She could feel it, the pulse of every single heart of Regulus’ wives. Each one beating faintly, steadily, just as she had marked them. She had slipped the mental hooks in a week ago. No one had noticed.

It would be so easy. Just a thought—no, less than that. A whisper of her will, and every last heart in that circle would still. Regulus would fall in an instant.

She could do it now.

But…

She didn’t.

Let them struggle a bit. She sipped her tea again, ignoring the tiny flutter in her chest—the one that came from watching Regulus shriek in disbelief as Reinhard body-slammed him through a crossbeam, only for him to rise again without a single blemish.

“How amusing,” Subaru murmured. “Even the Sword Saint’s getting frustrated. You poor thing…”

Down below, Reinhard skidded back, the floor cracking under his boots. His knuckles were bleeding from the force of his own blows. “No external damage,” he muttered. “His Authority must be nullifying the impact entirely.”

Regulus laughed like a hyena bathed in divine light. “Still haven’t drawn your sword, have you? You know why? Because it doesn’t believe in you anymore! Not after seeing me!”

Reinhard didn’t answer. He simply darted forward again, fists moving like lightning, a hurricane of righteous fury smashing into Regulus’ absolute defense. Walls shattered. Pillars crumbled. The pews had long since been reduced to ash.

Subaru leaned over the balcony rail, squinting.

“Well… maybe a little longer,” she said with a cruel little smile. “Let’s see just how desperate the invincible Sword Saint can get before I end this.”

Her fingers twitched again: each one connected to a dozen hearts. All waiting. All beating. All under her control.

“Dance, boys,” she whispered. “Make it fun for me.”