Beatrice and Subaru began packing in quiet coordination as they prepared for the assault on the Pleiades Watchtower. Maps lay half-unrolled, supplies were being sorted, and the air carried the tense weight of all the unresolved wounds Pristella had left behind.
"Don't worry, Beako," Subaru said softly, securing the last strap on his pack. "We're going to save Tanaka. Him… and everyone else."
The moment his name left Subaru's lips, the room's fragile calm shifted.
The battle in Pristella had ended, but the aftermath was a labyrinth of dread. They had defeated Regulus Corneas—the Sin Archbishop of Greed, the one responsible for Tanaka's abduction—yet his fate remained completely unknown. All they knew was that the Sin Archbishop of Lust had poured cursed blood directly into Tanaka's fatal wound.
The same blood that had caused four different horrors:
First: Dead bodies forcibly twisted into Witch beasts.
Second: Living hostages morphed into grotesque flies.
Third: Crusch, drained to the brink of death, weakened to a bedridden shell—her life saved only because Subaru managed to absorb some of the curse.
Lastly: Subaru himself, who should have been ruined by that foul corruption…
…yet somehow survived. No—adapted. The darkening of his skin, the searing agony at first contact, and then, impossibly, regeneration blossoming from the afflicted areas.
Because Subaru hadn't sensed Tanaka's death, the worst case—corpsification—was ruled out.But the other three…
The silence surrounding his disappearance, the absence of any body, any clue, any weakened trace—
The fear that he had turned into one of those flies hung over all of them like a curse of its own.
Everyone was desperate to rescue him. But Beatrice—Beatrice was restless in a way Subaru hadn't seen since facing the Sin Archbishops. Even now…
"Subaru confirmed that Tanaka is alive, I suppose…" she murmured, folding her arms as if bracing herself. "And that is enough. For now. Besides…"
"Besides?" Subaru asked, glancing over.
Beatrice looked down, her crown drooping slightly. "Betty is not going to choose, in fact. I'm not giving up anyone. Betty is going to protect everyone she holds dear to her heart."
Those words weren't hers originally.
They were his.
Words Tanaka uttered the day she last saw him—reckless, greedy, stubborn words. The kind that sounded like pretend heroics from someone trying too hard to look cool.
But coming from him, for some reason. They carried weight.
She also began to believe him when she saw Subaru follow those words with actions.
He was the one who pulled her from the library. He was the one who swore to show her the world.He was the one with whom she forged a contract.
And she—She had resolved to follow that same ideal. To protect the people she cherished.To never lose anyone again.
'Liar!'
Her tiny fists tightened.Her last word to him—thrown in anger, fear, and confusion—echoed like a wound.
It felt more unfair each time she recalled it.She regretted it deeply.
She was going to apologize.She would tell him properly this time.
Before she could sink any deeper into her thoughts, Subaru suddenly hooked his arms under her and lifted her up.
"Kyaa! W–What are you doing, I suppose?!"
He spun her playfully, ignoring her flustered squirming.
"Come on, Beako! Smile! Smile! That's when you're the cutest!"
"S-Subaru! T-That's enough! Betty gets it, Betty gets it!!"
He laughed, warmth filling his voice—a light that refused to go out no matter how dark things got.
"Don't worry," he said as he set her down gently. "We're going to get everything back."
His expression softened, but his eyes were unwavering.
"I promise."
*********************************************************************************************************
In the Kararagi, more specifically, in the city of Banan.
Two knights in white cloaks sat at a corner table, their armor loosened, fatigue carved into their faces. The tavern buzzed softly around them, a rare pocket of calm after the chaos that had swallowed Pristella.
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "Ugh… ever since the assault, my gate's been acting up. I really overdid it. Feels like someone stuffed ice shards in my spine. I swear, if I don't get it checked soon, it's going to kill me."
Riften suddenly smirked. "Actually… I got a solution."
Lucas raised a brow. "What? Don't tell me you're going to punch me in the back until something realigns."
"No, idiot." Riften waved someone over. "Hey! Jamie! Come here for a sec!"
A tall, slim figure approached—a man with deep blue hair tied neatly behind his head, wearing a silver half-mask that concealed much of his face. He moved quietly, efficiently.
Lucas blinked. Mask?
Riften grinned proudly. "Lucas, this guy here? Best healer you'll find outside the capital. Hey, Jamie—my friend here overused his gate again. Think you can treat him later?"
Jamie scribbled quickly on a small notebook and turned it around.
"The compensation will be ten gold coins."
"Sure, sure—" Riften began.
"A text? Ten gold coins!?" Lucas sputtered, half-rising from his seat. "For what? A massage from a spirit?"
If it were someone like the famed Felix Argyle, he'd have paid without blinking—but a nameless waiter?
Riften leaned in conspiratorially. "Relax. He's mute, so he writes everything. But he's a miracle worker, I swear. Fixed a bunch of injured folks who got dumped here after the battle."
Lucas narrowed his eyes. If he's mute, how the hell did he get hired as a waiter…?
Lucas sighed. "Fine. But I'm not paying unless he actually fixes me."
The masked man scribbled again and turned the notebook.
"I will be waiting in the inn next to the bar. Two hours."
___
____
_____
Before heading to the inn, Riften told him more about Jamie as he was curious about him. Apparently, he was one of the survivors of the battle of Pristella and also one of the victims of the Sin Archbishops of Gluttony, he was had no memories of his name or his identity, his face was covered with scars when he first met the bar owner, and he couldn't speak, possibly the result of the hardships he faced.
A mute survivor, with no memories or someone to rely on.
Garitch, the owner of the bar, took him in out of pity and even gave him the name James, everyone called him Jamie, though. At first, he assigned him to do a few easy tasks, but as he proved to be competent, he was giving the job of a waiter.
And when more refugees started arriving to Kararagi, many of them were injured, he stepped in to treat them.
At first, it's was odd. Someone with Amnesia being able to use to healing magic, but when people saw him in action, there was one word that they could explain his capabilities.
"Talent, huh..." Lucas whispered as he entered the dim, quiet room. Jamie stood waiting beside the bed, already removing one glove.
He held up a page.
"Sit."
Lucas did. The masked healer placed a glowing hand on his back, focusing on one point.
He wrote down quickly.
"It's going to be slightly uncomfortable at first but we can get it done quickly."
Lucas was confused as he found the interaction awkward but he dismissed it.
Gentle warmth pulsed through his skin as the glow traveled in deliberate lines, tracing the pathways of mana within him.
At first, the warmth sharpened—tight, needling pain digging deep.
Lucas sucked air through his teeth but forced himself to endure. "Ghh—doesn't feel… gentle…"
Jamie didn't pause. His hand moved steadily, the glow threading deeper. The pain slowly ebbed, replaced by a spreading clarity—like ice melting under sunlight.
And then—
Lucas blinked. "The pain… is gone?"
Jamie scribbled.
"There was residual buildup from overexertion."
Lucas turned, eyes wide. "You're amazing!"
Jamie slipped his glove back on and wrote another line.
"Any other pain?"
Lucas stretched experimentally—arms, back, legs. His eyes widened further.
"No, not at all! Not only is the pain gone—I feel incredible! Lighter than I have in months. Riften didn't praise you enough!"
Jamie bowed his head slightly and wrote his final message.
"You should be okay now. Thank you for your hard work."
Lucas happily handed over the ten coins. "Thank you, Jamie. Really. Now I feel ready to tear down half the kingdom if that's what it takes to catch those scummy Sin Archbishops and that bastard Stride Vollachia!"
Jamie remained silent.
Lucas gave him a cheerful salute and left the inn.
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The masked man watched the door close… and only then let his posture sag. He took the mask off and his breathing hitched—uneven, ragged.
Slowly, he pulled off his glove and held up his hand.
The skin, once pale, had begun darkening again—ink spreading beneath the surface like a creeping disease.
He clenched his trembling fist.
From a small satchel, he took a pouch of magic stones—most shattered, only one whole. His hand trembled harder as he reached for the last intact gemstone.
He pressed it to his palm.
Light flared violently, swallowing the darkness in his skin. It peeled away, color returning by force.
The glow faded.
The stone… shattered into powder.
The man stared at his hand, chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.
"…I'm so tired…"
Day by day…
He felt like he was becoming less human.