...
{3rd Pov}
"Who are you?"
The question sent a shiver down Anastasia's spine.
"W-What do you mean? I am Anastasia—your contractor. This isn't the time to make jokes, Eridna," Anastasia said, her voice carrying a mix of confusion and panic. She had no idea what had truly happened.
Her name had been eaten by the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony. That meant something far worse than simply being forgotten in conversation—her very existence had been erased from the memories of everyone in the world.
To them, Anastasia Hoshin no longer existed.
Eridna's response was not one of reassurance. The spirit's tone was laced with distrust, her presence radiating suspicion.
Without offering any explanation, Eridna acted—knocking Anastasia unconscious with calculated precision before leaving.
Where she went, Anastasia had no way of knowing.
When Anastasia woke up, she immediately realized something was wrong.
The familiar weight of the scarf around her neck was gone—Eridna was missing. A surge of panic shot through her.
She rushed out of her room, heading straight for the nearest guards in the mansion.
Instead of helping her, the guards reacted with hostility.
They drew their swords, their expressions tense.
"Who are you?! And why have you intruded in the mansion?!" one of them demanded sharply.
"What do you mean?! I am Anastasia Hoshin! I am one of the Five Royal Candidates! Tell me what happened in the battle against the Sin Archbishops?!" she snapped back, her voice rising with both anger and desperation.
The guards exchanged puzzled glances, their suspicion deepening with each passing second.
"Arrest her," a knight finally ordered.
Before she could protest further, rough hands seized her arms.
She struggled, shouting at them, but her words only seemed to make them more convinced she was some intruder or lunatic.
They dragged her down into a cold, dimly lit cellar and locked her inside.
She kept yelling through the bars, demanding answers, but no one listened.
A full day passed before she was released.
The moment she was free, she pressed for information—and what she heard made her blood run cold.
The guard delivering the news spoke with a hollow voice, his face etched with despair. He told her that the allied forces had been completely annihilated.
The Sin Archbishops had not just won—they had taken full control of Priestella.
She could barely process it.
'How… how could they lose?'
Emilia was a half-elf, yes—and even if she was accompanied by a Great Spirit, and not just any Great Spirit, but one of the Four Great Spirits it didn't mean she was capable of going against the current allied forces.
Anastasia knew for a fact that Emilia had been capable of wiping out entire groups of Witch Cultists, even defeating a Sin Archbishop in the past.
Even if Julius was weaker than Emilia, Anastasia had faith in the combined might of him, Felix the Blue healer, and Crusch Karsten's leadership.
Together, they should have been a force to be reckoned with.
Not only that—Priscilla wielded the Yang Sword, a weapon whose existence alone spoke of unmatched power.
That revelation had raised serious questions about her true identity and her ties to Vollachia, but regardless of politics, it had proven her combat prowess beyond any doubt.
She wasn't alone, either. Her knight Al, the mysterious man who never removed his helmet, was with her. Even Heinkel, the Vice-Commander of Royal Knights with formidable strength recruited under her camp, had been present in the battle.
'Even if I could accept that all of them—including my own Iron Fang—were defeated… what about Reinhardt?'
Reinhardt van Astrea, the man hailed as the strongest living warrior in the kingdom.
He possessed so many Divine Protections that the Lugunican Royalty had been forced to impose restrictions on him just to prevent him from being too overwhelming in combat.
He was considered the most powerful successor of the First Sword Saint, and in terms of sheer ability, he should have been capable of surpassing even the Four Great Spirits—including Emilia's own Spirit of Fire, the Beast of the End.
'So how did he lose? How is that even possible?'
When she pressed for more details, the guard's expression darkened further. His shoulders slumped, his eyes filled with hopelessness.
Then, with a voice that carried the weight of utter defeat, he revealed the answer.
"The Sin Archbishop of Greed, Regulus Corneas, fought yesterday against the Sword Saint. Their battle was so fierce that it destroyed an entire section of the city—buildings, streets, everything in its path was wiped out. However… in the end, the Sin Archbishop emerged victorious. No one knows the exact details of how it happened. Some are whispering that the Sword Saint fled like a coward, but… most believe he's dead."
"R-Reinhardt… lost?" Anastasia's voice cracked, her legs suddenly feeling weak. It was as if the very foundation of her world had crumbled away in an instant.
She stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the floor, her mind refusing to accept the reality she had just heard.
'Reinhardt… lost? The strongest man alive… defeated? That's… impossible.'
The words swirled in her head, but no matter how many times she repeated them to herself, they refused to make sense.
After several deep breaths to steady herself, she forced her composure back and requested information about Julius and the Iron Fang.
The guards exchanged uncertain looks, clearly still suspicious about her identity, but eventually one of them began explaining.
Given the current state of the city—hostages in every district, lives dangling on the whims of the Sin Archbishops—the guard didn't see much harm in telling her.
After all, Capella had already publicly boasted to the entire city about how the Sin Archbishops had annihilated the combined forces of all three camps.
As the guard spoke, Anastasia's stomach twisted.
She began piecing together something even more horrifying: people weren't just forgetting her name—they were forgetting her existence entirely.
The Royal Selection was now spoken of as if it had always consisted of only four camps, with no trace of her own involvement.
'Gluttony… that bastard. He erased me completely… not just from memories, but from history itself.'
Determined not to give in to despair, she made her way to the infirmary.
There, she found Julius sitting on one of the beds, his right arm missing, his posture slumped.
Near him was Mimi, barely breathing and heavily bandaged, her small frame trembling in unconscious pain.
Without Blue or any other great healer available, Mimi's life was hanging by the thinnest thread imaginable.
The sight made Anastasia's heart tighten.
When she stepped toward them, she saw grief etched deeply into Julius' face—grief mixed with shame and the unmistakable emptiness of a man who had been broken.
"W-Who might you be, Miss?" Julius asked, his voice low and strained. His eyes looked hollow, and there was no recognition in them at all.
Anastasia froze in place. Her blood ran cold.
Her worst nightmare… had just been confirmed. Julius, her own knight, had no memory of her.
"I-I am Anastasia Hoshin! The President of the Hoshin Company, one of the five Royal Candidates! And the person to whom you have pledged your loyalty!" she said, her voice trembling as she desperately tried to reach him.
But instead of recognition, anger surfaced in Julius' eyes. He straightened, his expression hardening.
"Miss, I don't know what you're trying to achieve or what twisted game you're playing, but attempting to manipulate me is unacceptable. I have pledged my loyalty to Duchess Crusch Karsten. Even if she is dead, my loyalty will remain with her until my last breath."
Anastasia's lips parted, but no words came out. Her whole body shook.
'He's… forgotten me too…'
She quickly turned to Hetaro and Tivey, forcing a smile that was more desperation than warmth. "Hetaro, you remember me, right?"
The demi-human didn't even look at her.
She moved toward Tivey and grabbed him by the arm. "Tivey, at least you remember me?! Please! Please tell me you remember me!"
Suddenly, Hetaro lashed out, striking her hand so hard she let go of Tivey with a pained gasp.
"Don't touch my brother," Hetaro hissed, his voice dripping with hostility.
Anastasia's gaze darted toward Mimi's bed. The girl was still unconscious, breathing weakly.
"Mimi… Mimi will remember me! She has to! She definitely will!" Anastasia insisted, trying to move toward her, but the reaction was immediate and furious.
"Stay away from her!" Hetaro shouted, kicking her hard in the side. The blow knocked her to the floor.
"Guards! Get her out of here! Od Lagna knows where this crazy woman came from!" Hetaro roared.
Before Anastasia could even rise, a knight grabbed her roughly by the arm.
She kicked, screamed, pleaded—telling them over and over again that the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony had erased her from everyone's memories—but her words fell on deaf ears.
She was dragged to the exit and, with no ceremony at all, thrown out of the building like unwanted garbage.
Her head struck the pavement with a sickening thud, pain flashing through her skull as the knight turned his back and walked away without a single glance.
Due to the already solemn atmosphere in the city—brought on by crushing defeat, constant fear, and the suffocating weight of recent events—everyone's spirits were at their lowest.
In such a climate, anger was easy to provoke.
It was as if the whole city was a powder keg, and all it would take was the smallest spark to make it explode.
So, when the guard—already on edge and trembling with unease—was suddenly faced with what he saw as an unnecessary and troublesome disturbance, he lost what little patience he had left.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Anastasia roughly by the arm and tossed her away like she was nothing more than a rag doll.
Her body hit the pavement with a sharp thud, pain shooting through her side as her head smacked the ground.
Bruises began to form instantly, and the impact left her dazed before she slipped into unconsciousness.
Hours later, she came to.
The memory of being thrown out burned in her mind, but instead of retreating, she immediately returned to the infirmary, driven by a desperate hope that if she just kept trying, someone—anyone—would remember her.
She burst into the room, ignoring the shocked and irritated stares of those inside.
She told them everything about herself—how she had rescued Mimi, Tivey, and Hetaro, how she had gone on to form the Hoshin Company from the ground up, and even spoke about Ricardo and their history together.
"Please, you must remember me! I'm—"
But Hetaro's cold voice cut her off like a blade. "I was saved by Sir Chuden, and the Hoshin Company was founded through his own efforts. How can you shamelessly claim to know us, let alone claim to be the owner of the Hoshin Company?!" His glare was sharp enough to pierce through her.
"Sir, I think she's trying to manipulate us," a healer nearby spoke up, his tone heavy with suspicion. "She's attempting to take advantage of the chaos. We should imprison her before she causes more trouble."
"Please… please believe me!" Anastasia's voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears that spilled freely down her cheeks. "I am your family! I'm the one who saved you! Julius… I am your lord!"
For a moment, Julius' jaw tightened. His teeth ground together, and his hands clenched into fists. Slowly, he stood up from his bed. Anastasia's heart leapt—her breath caught in her throat.
A smile of relief spread across her face. 'He remembers… he finally remembers!'
SNAP.
The sound rang sharply in the room.
Anastasia's head snapped to the side, her vision swimming as a burning pain spread across her cheek.
She had fallen to the floor, staring wide-eyed at the man she thought had just regained his memories.
"You vile woman," Julius spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "In a time when we are surrounded by death and despair, you only think of profit? You try to satisfy your greed while others suffer? I hope people like you rot and die in a ditch."
His glare was colder than ice.
"Take her away!" he barked, not even looking at her again.
This time, Anastasia didn't resist.
She remained silent, watching through blurred vision as the people she once called allies glared at her with pure hatred.
She let the knights seize her arms, drag her out of the infirmary, and toss her back into the street like unwanted trash.
"Do not come here again," one of the guards growled, his tone full of menace.
"If you do, we will execute you." His glare lingered, making sure the threat was clear.
Anastasia stood there for a moment, her expression unreadable—a mixture of pain, disbelief, and something darker.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and walked away in a daze, her thoughts a tangled mess.
In the days that followed, her life became harder with each passing hour.
The city remained a hostage to the Sin Archbishops, who roamed freely, causing destruction and terror at their whim.
Hunger and thirst gnawed at everyone equally—be they knight, civilian, or merchant.
The Sin Archbishop of Lust had sealed the city completely, threatening to open the floodgates and drown the entire population if anyone attempted to escape.
Even so, messages were still able to reach the outside world through the use of Metia, though no help had arrived.
The blockade also meant the city's food supply was completely severed from the outside.
To make matters worse, the main reserves of grain and other essential goods were stored in the central granary—located dangerously close to where the Sin Archbishop of Greed had made his lair.
In practical terms, this meant the city's stockpile was strictly limited. Every loaf of bread, every bag of rice, every scrap of preserved meat became precious beyond measure.
The knights, under orders to maintain what little remained, began confiscating supplies from markets, shops, and private homes.
The seized goods were gathered into guarded storage and then rationed out in mass distributions so that, at the very least, no one would starve immediately.
But the reality was grim—no matter how it was organized, there simply wasn't enough to go around.
Anastasia, who had been wearing a piece of cloth over her face to hide her identity, accepted the portion of food from the Knights in a daze.
For the first three days, she managed to get by without any major trouble, keeping to herself and avoiding unnecessary attention.
However, on the fourth day, everything changed. Due to the rapidly dwindling food supply, the Knights had announced that everyone's allocated rations would be cut in half.
This sudden shortage pushed some people into desperation, and many began secretly stealing food from others.
Unfortunately for Anastasia, she became one of such targets.
It happened right after she had collected her portion of the midday meal.
She had barely walked a short distance from the distribution point when a group of men suddenly surrounded her, blocking her path.
"Hey, girl," one of them drawled with a smirk on his unshaven face, "how about you hand over that food? You see, we're quite hungry."
Another man stepped closer, holding a worn kitchen knife in his hand.
His eyes narrowed, and his tone was far less casual. "Yeah… if you don't want trouble, give it up."
Anastasia's hands trembled slightly, and fear flickered in her eyes.
But then, something hardened in her gaze.
She looked at the men with an expression of resolve.
'I can't let them take this. If I give up my food today, they'll target me every single time after this.'
"I won't give you my food," she said firmly, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. "The Knights aren't far away. If I scream, they'll be here in moments. And even if you kill me… what do you think they'll do to you?"
She allowed a grin to spread across her face, watching them hesitate.
"In this tense situation, if they find out you've killed someone, they'll kill you on the spot just to keep order among the people," she added, her grin widening as fear began to creep into their expressions.
But before she could take another breath, a voice suddenly spoke from behind her. "That means we just need to not kill you… and keep you silent, right?"
Her eyes widened, but before she could scream, a pair of rough hands clamped over her mouth. She was shoved hard to the ground, the impact knocking the air from her lungs.
Anastasia thrashed and kicked, but the man holding her down kept his grip like iron.
"What are you two waiting for?!" he barked at his companions. "Take her food and run!"
The other two didn't waste a second.
They snatched the bread that had fallen to the ground during the struggle, and even though it was now covered in dirt, they didn't care—they would still eat it.
Without a second glance, they sprinted off.
The man holding her gave a satisfied grunt before releasing her and delivering a vicious kick to her stomach.
The pain exploded through her body, forcing a gasp from her lips and causing her to spit out saliva as her vision blurred. Then he too ran off, leaving her curled on the ground in pain.
By the time she managed to recover enough to stand, they were already long gone.
Gritting her teeth, she made her way to the nearest group of Knights, desperately pleading her case. She explained what had happened, insisting that her food had been stolen.
But one of the Knights narrowed his eyes, recognition flashing in them. "She's lying. A few days ago, she barged into the infirmary claiming she was the fifth Royal Candidate and saying Sir Julius had sworn loyalty to her, or something like that."
The others looked at her with suspicion.
"I'm not lying!" Anastasia protested, her voice rising with urgency. "They did steal my bread! Look at the dirt on my clothes and the mark on my face—this is proof!"
Her confident tone made some of the Knights hesitate. But before anything could be decided, a familiar figure appeared.
Anastasia's eyes widened in shock. "It's him! He's the one—he and the other two stole my food!"
The Knight turned to the man she had pointed at. "Sachin? Was it you?"
Sachin blinked with a show of surprise before shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. "Of course not! This woman is lying! Why would we steal her food? We're members of Felt Camp. How could we, who belong to the same camp as Sir Reinhardt, do something like that?"
The lie rolled off his tongue as smoothly as if it were the truth.
Anastasia knew why—Sachin, along with his friends Rachin, Camberley, and Gaston, had all once been thieves.
Even after Felt had accepted them, their habits had not completely disappeared.
Initially, they had resisted stealing from others, but after Reinhardt's supposed death, Felt's capture, and the constant threat of danger, their restraint had vanished.
They had decided that if they were going to die in the coming days, they would at least die with full stomachs.
"Indeed," another Knight agreed. "They're from Felt Camp. No doubt this woman is lying. She lied before, and now she's doing it again—trying to get extra food in this desperate situation through deceit."
Anastasia felt her stomach churn. 'Why…? Why is no one believing me? Why does everyone think I'm lying? A manipulator?'
"Wait a minute! Aren't all Felt Camp members from the slums? They all are former thives! They must be lying!" she blurted out in frustration.
Her words instantly lit a spark of anger in the crowd.
"Now you're insulting people just because they're from the slums? How disgusting," a cold voice said.
She turned her head and froze. It was Julius. He had only just arrived, but his enhanced senses had allowed him to hear most of the argument from a distance.
"J-Julius, I'm telling the truth! Please, you have to believe me! I'm begging you!" Her voice broke, tears spilling down her cheeks.
But Julius flinched and then turned away. "Take her away! Tell her this is her last warning. If she causes any more trouble, she'll be executed for endangering public safety."
He didn't believe her. His spirits couldn't detect lies, so he judged her as guilty.
Anastasia's shoulders slumped, her eyes dimming as the Knights grabbed her and dragged her away, determined not to let her stir up any more problems.
Over the next two days, her misery deepened. Her food was stolen again—by the very same men. She tried different routes, different times, anything to avoid them, but it was useless. By the end of it, they had stolen her rations four separate times.
Finally, she stopped trying altogether. She no longer went to the food distribution lines. Instead, she found an isolated place among the destroyed rubble of the city, and simply lay there on the ground, too tired and too broken to move.
Her stomach ached with unrelenting pain—not just from the brutal beating she had suffered days ago, but also from the gnawing emptiness caused by severe hunger.
Every breath felt heavier, her insides twisting as if trying to devour themselves.
To survive, she drank water whenever she could find it, using it to quench not only her thirst but also to dull the sharp edge of hunger that seemed to stab at her constantly. But water could only do so much.
A few days later, she overheard people whispering with excitement—an army was supposedly on its way to attack Priestella and reclaim the city.
That faint spark of hope in the air was contagious; even she felt her heart stir ever so slightly.
But by the very next day, that hope was mercilessly crushed. When the army arrived, they never stood a chance.
The Sin Archbishop of Greed annihilated them completely, erasing any last shred of optimism the people had been holding onto.
From that point onward, the situation deteriorated rapidly. Food rations thinned even further, and desperation began to fester among the citizens.
Slowly but surely, the city descended into chaos—people started rioting, stealing from one another, and doing whatever it took just to survive another day.
It was during this worsening crisis that she had the misfortune of running into the same three thugs again.
They were furious with her—not because she had done something to them directly, but because she hadn't been receiving food anymore, which meant they had no opportunity to steal extra from her. Their frustration had been building for days.
With the amount of food everyone was getting shrinking by the day, and with whispers spreading that the nobles and wealthy merchants were considering cutting off rations to commoners entirely, their resentment boiled over.
They chose her as the target for their anger.
They accused her of ridiculous, unfounded things—claims so absurd they would have been laughable if not for the situation—and then, without hesitation, they beat her brutally.
The blows rained down one after another, the sound of fists and feet striking her body echoing in her ears along with her own ragged breathing.
When they were finally done venting their rage, they left her sprawled on the ground, battered and barely able to move.
Her vision was blurred from the blood flowing into her eyes, and her entire body throbbed with pain. She could feel that her arm was fractured; every attempt to move it sent waves of agony through her.
Somehow, she managed to drag her battered body to one of the destroyed sections of the city.
She took refuge there, in a place shielded by piles of rubble, away from the prying eyes of others. It was the only shelter she could find.
By the next day, the damage had taken an irreversible toll—she lost vision in her left eye completely, plunging her into partial blindness.
The days that followed were a constant battle against hunger, pain, and weakness.
She no longer had the energy to search for food.
Even if she did, she doubted she could keep it from being taken.
She felt her will to live slipping away.
She had lost all hope.
She felt deeply betrayed.
She had seen the true faces of people she once thought of as allies—friends, even—when they no longer had any memories of her.
Anastasia gave a bitter, hollow laugh when she thought back to how the so-called Finest of Knights had brushed off her accusations against those three men without a second thought, simply because they belonged to Felt Camp while she was just an unknown woman.
'His justice?' she sneered inwardly. 'I never knew Julius was so full of hypocrisy.'
But then another thought crept in.
'No… perhaps I always knew. I just didn't care back then. When I was in power, when my position was lofty, everyone believed my words without hesitation. Back then, if Julius wrongly accused an innocent man because of his overbearing sense of justice, I didn't mind. In fact, I welcomed it—it only made my own reputation stronger.'
But now?
Now she had nothing. All her connections, her friends, her comrades, her company—everything she had built over years—was gone.
At the lowest point of her life, she understood a harsh truth: money, power, influence… they could vanish in an instant, leaving nothing behind.
Perhaps… if there had been at least one person who still remembered her, who still cared for her, someone who would have believed her even as a stranger, then maybe… just maybe… she wouldn't have been reduced to this pitiful state.
She realized then that the value of a person who would stand by you in your worst times—someone who would trust you without hesitation, even if they had no reason to—was the greatest treasure in the world.
(A/N: Meanwhile Subaru doing same for Emilia, and getting the reply 'Wait for me' BRUH, it makes Emilia looks even worse)
But she pushed aside those ridiculous thoughts and continued to suffer as her hand slowly became necrotic, the flesh turning cold and lifeless.
She had been lying against a crumbling wall, the weight of despair pressing heavily on her mind. Thoughts of ending her own life invaded her repeatedly, swirling in her head like a dark storm she could not escape.
Yet, even in this desperate and broken state, she found herself lacking the courage to follow through. 'Why can't I just end it all?' she wondered bitterly, 'Is it fear? Or some stubborn will to keep living?'
Perhaps deep down, she simply wanted to cling to life a little longer. She still cherished the very act of living itself. Even if she were to die tomorrow, she did not want to be the one to decide that moment.
Suddenly, a noise shattered the silence. Through the rubble, a figure clad in white crashed past her, moving quickly and purposefully.
'What is going on?' she thought, turning her head with curiosity and caution.
"Haha! Mongrel! Prepare to be punished for your crimes!" a sharp voice called out. Anastasia squinted to see a man with white hair and golden eyes, his teeth clenched tightly with anger.
"How dare you! How dare you infringe on my—" Before he could finish, a golden axe flew through the air and struck him, sending him hurtling backward. The woman wielding the axe ignored everything else and took to the sky, pursuing him relentlessly.
Meanwhile, the rubble beside Anastasia suddenly began to collapse, threatening to bury her alive. Just as the debris was about to fall on her, strong arms grabbed her suddenly, pulling her to safety.
"Damn, Gloria is really going overboard this time," a calm male voice said as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, shielding her from the falling rubble.
He looked down at her pale, bruised face with genuine concern. "Are you okay, Miss?" he asked softly.
Anastasia gazed up at her unexpected savior as he cradled her carefully. Then, in an instant, the world around them shifted and they found themselves somewhere else—safe and away from the chaos.
Feeling the warmth radiating from his body stirred something inside her that she hadn't felt in a long time.
"Wait a minute… You're Anastasia Hoshin?!" the man's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
Anastasia's whole body trembled as she looked at him, her lips cracked and trembling with a mix of surprise and hope.
"Y… You… remember… me?" she whispered with great difficulty, her voice barely audible.
While Subaru wondered how someone as strong and proud as Anastasia could have been reduced to such a fragile and broken state, Anastasia Hoshin's body finally gave out, and she collapsed unconscious into his arms.
To be continued...
(A/N: I hope you liked the chapter!
Also the next arc is Peak, I mean it is so peak that you will feel sad, and happy at the same time.
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