...
{3rd Pov}
A full year passed after that, and during that time Felt had made huge strides in improving the lives of the people in the slums.
It wasn't some instant miracle—there was still a long road ahead before the slum population could reach the same living standards as the average commoner—but the progress was real, and she was satisfied with how far things had come.
She had taken steps to develop the poorest districts in the kingdom, repairing streets, improving shelter conditions, and making sure more people had enough food to eat.
It was in the middle of this progress that she received a letter.
The sender was none other than Roswaal, the sponsor of Emilia, the half-elf whose reputation had skyrocketed after she personally killed a Sin Archbishop and wiped out a group of Witch Cultists—not long after Crusch's failed campaign to subjugate the White Whale.
The letter wasn't just a polite greeting. Roswaal was requesting an alliance and had invited all the other royal candidate camps—except for Priscilla's—to a meeting in Priestella.
Felt read the letter twice. Normally, she wouldn't care about what the other candidates were plotting, but now that she was serious about becoming queen, she understood she couldn't just ignore these kinds of political moves.
If the other camps formed an alliance against her, it would be trouble. At the very least, she needed to size up which camps were hostile and which might be neutral—or even potential allies.
For this trip, she chose her company carefully. Reinhardt would be at her side, of course—having the Sword Saint with her meant no one would dare try anything stupid.
Along with him, she brought three thieves who had joined her camp a few months earlier. They weren't just muscle—they were quick, sharp, and knew how to get information.
Rom stayed behind in the capital to handle her affairs while she was away. He was the only person she trusted enough to leave her work in the hands of.
When she arrived in Priestella, their lodging turned out to be a Kararagi-style hot spring inn, booked by Crusch through the Hoshin Company.
The place was clean, well-maintained, and full of the faint scent of herbal baths. Soon after settling in, she met with Crusch, and not long after, Priscilla made an appearance—completely uninvited.
Roswaal's letter had made it clear Priscilla wasn't supposed to be part of this meeting, but somehow, she had still learned about it and showed up anyway, announcing her arrival as if she owned the place.
It wasn't just Priscilla who turned up. Alongside her was Heinkel, Vice-Commander of the Royal Knights, current head of the Astrea household… and Reinhardt's father.
Felt's first impression of the man couldn't have been worse.
The moment he laid eyes on Reinhardt, he started berating him, hurling insults, and cursing him for Wilhelm's death—Wilhelm being Heinkel's father and Reinhardt's grandfather.
Felt couldn't believe the nerve. The man was blaming his own son for something he had no control over, acting like the perfect example of a hypocritical, self-pitying scumbag.
In the end, even Priscilla got sick of his endless rambling. Without warning, she knocked him out cold and declared she was tired of his whining.
Later that day, the camps received a message: Emilia's group would be arriving a few days late due to "unforeseen circumstances." Felt didn't overthink it—unlike the other two candidates, who seemed to weigh the news more heavily.
The next day, boredom got the better of her.
She decided to sneak out into the city alone.
She knew Reinhardt was ridiculously overprotective, the type to shadow her every move and follow her like a bodyguard glued to her hip. That constant hovering annoyed her to no end, so she slipped away without telling him.
What she didn't expect was for the city to be attacked while she was wandering around. Chaos broke out, people screamed, and in the middle of it all, one of the attackers zeroed in on her.
"I am the Sin Archbishop of Greed, Regulus Corneas!" the man announced with an arrogant smile, stepping forward and, without asking, wrapping his arms around her in an uncomfortably close hug.
"Let go of me, you bastard!" Felt yelled, struggling to shove him away. But her anger froze in place the moment she saw him casually flick a pebble at a passing knight—only for the man to drop dead instantly.
Her jaw tightened. "…."
"Were you saying something?" Regulus asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone mocking.
Felt's eyebrow twitched. She forced herself to stop moving, her mind racing. 'Fine. I'll just wait until Reinhardt shows up and wipes the floor with this guy.' She stopped resisting and let him drag her away. If this creep wanted to play kidnapper, he was in for a nasty surprise later.
He took her to meet his so-called "wives." The moment she laid eyes on them, Felt knew something was off.
The women's faces were blank, doll-like, with no spark of individuality. Their neutral expressions weren't normal—they looked like people whose personalities had been completely stamped out.
'Yeah,' Felt thought grimly. 'He definitely kidnapped them, just like he did with me.' She didn't know exactly how strong Regulus was, but she could guess he was more powerful than most fighters in the world.
Of course, that estimate didn't include Reinhardt.
She sat there, arms crossed, scowling at the situation. She hated waiting around like some helpless princess trapped in a villain's lair. The whole thing was ridiculous. And, in a twisted way, almost funny.
'Yeah,' she thought with a smirk. 'The big bad evil doesn't know the "princess" has the Sword Saint on her side.'
In the meantime, while she was stuck in Regulus's so-called home, Felt took the opportunity to talk to some of his other wives.
The more she learned, the more she realized just how messed up their situation really was—and just how much trauma Regulus had put them through.
"What do you mean?!" Felt nearly shouted after hearing one of them speak. "You're not allowed to smile?! You're not allowed to complain?!"
"Yes, Lady Felt," one of the women—introduced only as "Number 184"—replied in a flat, emotionless tone. "Lord Husband dislikes when we laugh, smile, or complain. If we show any expression other than a neutral face, he might kill us if he is irritated. And Lord Husband also dislikes complaints of any kind. If anyone complains… they die."
"You can't be serious!" Felt snapped, glaring in disbelief. "What if he just gets in a bad mood and decides to kill you for no reason?"
"Then I will die," Number 184 said, her voice steady and her face utterly blank. That lack of reaction made Felt feel a chill crawl down her spine.
"W–Wait… why does everyone call you 'Number 184' anyway?" Felt asked, her curiosity mixing with disgust.
"Lord Husband dislikes remembering our names," Number 184 explained. "He says names are unnecessary. He prefers us to be referred to by numbers instead."
Felt clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles ached.
'That bastard!' she thought, her anger boiling over.
If it weren't for the fact that she didn't feel like dying today, she would've already let Regulus have a piece of her mind—preferably in the form of a solid punch to the face.
Number 184 leaned slightly closer, still speaking in that cold, neutral way. "I hope Lady Felt remembers all of this. Lord Husband may be patient until the marriage, but after that… if Lady Felt does not follow all the rules exactly, then Lord Husband might kill you."
"Shut up!" Felt snapped, glaring right at her. "How can someone be this cruel to a person he calls his wife?" She took a deep breath, then smirked and added with total confidence, "You don't have to worry about me. My knight is Reinhardt—the strongest man in the entire kingdom. He'll definitely defeat Regulus and free all of us."
Number 184 didn't even blink. Her expression stayed exactly the same, like she was carved from stone. There was no spark of hope in her eyes—because there was nothing there at all.
"It is useless," she said in the same deadpan tone. "Lord Husband is the strongest."
Felt didn't bother arguing. She knew what she knew—and she knew Reinhardt. She just had to wait until he showed up and smashed this arrogant creep into the ground.
In the meantime, Regulus's wives continued their cold, mechanical preparations for the "marriage" between him and Felt.
The entire thing was disgusting, but just a few hours before the ceremony, when people had started gathering inside the church, her patience finally paid off.
The door burst open, and there he was.
"You bastard!" Felt yelled at Reinhardt the moment she saw him. "What took you so long to get here?! If you'd been just a few hours later, I'd be stuck married to that narcissist!" She didn't even think—she sent a kick toward his head on instinct.
Reinhardt tilted his head slightly, letting her foot pass harmlessly by, and simply smiled his usual calm, polite smile.
"I apologize for the delay, Lady Felt," he said in his gentle tone, completely unfazed. "However, given that the entire city was under attack and multiple Sin Archbishops were present, I couldn't act recklessly without a plan. Once the other royal candidates had coordinated a strategy, I came here as fast as I could."
Felt rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. Reinhardt wasn't just trying to act like some perfect gentleman—he was actually like this.
Over the past year, she had realized he was genuinely innocent in a weird way. Sure, he was insanely powerful, but he was also kind of an airhead, and sometimes he acted like a clueless kid despite being a grown man.
(Author's Note: Reinhardt is a good boy.)
Meanwhile, some of Regulus's other wives glanced at Reinhardt nervously. They weren't scared of him exactly, but his presence alone might provoke Regulus into one of his famous violent tantrums.
And sure enough, that's exactly what happened.
When Regulus walked in and saw Felt speaking freely to Reinhardt—sharing details about his disgusting treatment of his wives, mocking him, and generally giving him zero respect—his entire expression twisted into rage.
In an instant, he moved. With a single step, he crossed the entire room faster than most people could blink, grabbed Felt by the arm, and hurled Reinhardt completely out of the building.
"This is my wife!" Regulus shouted, his voice dripping with arrogant possession. "Go get your own!" He raised his hand as if to make his point even clearer.
"Ugh! Let go of me, you bastard! Reinhardt, you idiot! Why did you just stand there and let him grab me?!" Felt shouted, thrashing in Regulus's grip like a furious cat.
Her glare shot toward Reinhardt, who stood a short distance away with an awkward, almost apologetic look on his face.
"Forgive me, Lady Felt," Reinhardt said calmly, his voice steady despite the absurdity of the situation.
"I judged that if I were to attempt to grab you back in that moment, there was a high probability his counterattack might have struck you, potentially causing injury. I decided it was safer to wait for a better opportunity."
Felt paused mid-struggle, her annoyance cooling slightly at his reasoning. Regulus, however, looked like someone had just told him his entire life's work was worthless.
His expression twisted, and he practically vibrated with indignation before exploding into a full-on rant.
"What is this nonsense?! This blatant violation of my rights!" he shouted, tightening his grip on Felt's arm.
"How dare you, in my presence, attempt to seduce my future wife?! Do you have no sense of shame?! No moral guilt whatsoever?! You think you can just lure her away from me with your false charms?! And not only that—you had the audacity to try and extract information about me from her?!" His voice grew louder with every sentence.
"This is an outrageous violation of my privacy! A criminal act! To plot against a man as righteous and pure as myself—how cruel, how disgusting, how—"
There was a moment of silence.
Then Reinhardt tilted his head slightly, a faint wry smile on his lips.
"I'm sorry," he said politely, "but I just acquired the Divine Protection of Nonsense Silence, so I didn't hear half of what you said. Could you repeat that?"
For a beat, nothing happened—then Felt burst into loud, unrestrained laughter, clutching her stomach.
Even some of Regulus's wives, normally emotionless and mechanical, had to stifle their own chuckles.
You could practically see the vein bulging on Regulus's forehead as his face darkened in pure rage.
"Enough!" he snapped, finally releasing Felt. "Prepare her for the wedding! If I do not see her in a wedding dress by the time I have finished judging this bastard—" his voice dropped into a deadly growl "—I will tear every single one of you to shreds!"
The wives didn't argue.
They moved instantly, swarming Felt in a silent, obedient rush.
Their faces stayed neutral, but their hands trembled as they took hold of her arms.
Regulus's threats clearly weren't just for show.
Felt glanced back at Reinhardt, worry flickering across her face.
'Do not worry, Lady Felt. We can communicate through telepathy,' Reinhardt's calm voice echoed directly in her mind.
'Oh. Right. You've got that Divine Protection thing for this,' Felt thought back. 'Okay, listen—his wives are terrified of him. So, just to keep them from completely breaking down, I'll play along and put on the stupid wedding dress. But you better finish this guy off as soon as possible.'
'I understand,' Reinhardt replied without hesitation. His mental voice carried the same polite certainty as his normal speech. 'Do not worry, Lady Felt. I will execute this man as soon as possible.'
Relieved, Felt stopped resisting and allowed herself to be pulled away.
Even though the women's faces didn't change, the faint tremor in their hands made it clear Regulus's earlier threat was still echoing in their minds.
Meanwhile, Reinhardt's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. He gave a small tug—yet the Dragon Sword, Reid, did not move an inch.
'So, he's strong enough to be a challenge,' Reinhardt thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. 'And yet… he is not worthy? It must be because of his vile personality.'
"What's this?" Regulus barked. "Ignoring me again?!" His anger flared, and he stomped down on the cobblestone with enough force to shatter it.
Chunks of stone exploded upward, and in the same instant, Regulus kicked them forward. The rocks tore through the air at supersonic speed, faster than most eyes could follow.
Reinhardt shifted his stance and dodged them effortlessly, though his eyes tracked their path as they ripped through several houses before finally coming to a stop.
'If not for my Divine Protection of First Sight,' Reinhardt thought, a small bead of sweat trailing down his temple, 'I would have been struck immediately by that attack.'
It was rare—almost unheard of—for him to feel even a flicker of pressure, but Regulus's raw speed and force were undeniably dangerous.
If Reid had been willing to unsheathe, the fight would have been over instantly.
Unfortunately, the Dragon Sword's refusal made things far more complicated.
"How dare you dodge my attack?!" Regulus roared, his voice booming. "It's a violation of my rights! To ignore me! To ignore my attacks! You… coward!"
Without warning, he broke the sound barrier in a blur of motion, his fist shooting toward Reinhardt's face with lethal intent.
Reinhardt met the blow—not with the blade, but with the Dragon Sheath still holding the unsheathed Reid.
The impact was like a thunderclap, shockwaves exploding outward in every direction as the two forces collided.
Dust and debris filled the air, and the ground beneath them cracked from the sheer pressure.
The duel had officially begun.
Regulus's attacks were brutally fast—so fast that even Reinhardt, the Sword Saint himself, had trouble tracking them.
Every strike came like a blur, forcing him to rely not only on his razor-sharp instincts but also on the Divine Protection of Second Coming just to keep up.
He could parry and block, but the sheer relentlessness of Regulus's assault was unlike anything he had faced in a long time.
They crashed through building after building, the destruction spreading through the city like wildfire.
Reinhardt's eyes caught sight of something mid-battle—there were still innocent civilians inside one of the houses that Regulus's attack trajectory would destroy.
Without a second thought, Reinhardt changed his position, stepping directly into the path of the incoming blow to shield them.
The decision saved their lives—at least for a moment—but it came at the cost of his own. The force of the impact split Reinhardt's body apart, killing him instantly.
Regulus came to a halt a few meters away, panting—not from fatigue, but from pure irritation, his chest rising and falling with frustrated breaths.
Then, a twisted smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced toward the civilians Reinhardt had just protected.
"You're all too noisy," Regulus said flatly, as if announcing the weather. Without hesitation, he picked up a small stone and flicked it with casual force.
The projectile ripped through the air like a bullet, striking the group and obliterating them in an instant.
Blood and fragments sprayed the cobblestone.
"That," he said smugly, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, "is what happens when you violate my rights."
But before he could enjoy his self-proclaimed victory for long—
A strange orange glow enveloped Reinhardt's mangled corpse.
Before Regulus's eyes, torn flesh knitted itself back together, shattered bones realigned, and the Sword Saint's tattered clothing repaired itself as if nothing had happened.
In the span of seconds, Reinhardt stood whole again, his body restored and his stance calm—but his eyes… his eyes were different.
The moment he glanced toward the mangled remains of the civilians, his normally serene gaze turned cold and sharp as steel.
Regulus, meanwhile, had frozen in place with a genuine "WHAT THE FUCK" look plastered on his face.
"D-Did you just… resurrect?" Regulus stammered, rubbing his eyes as if hoping the sight would vanish if he blinked enough times.
"I did," Reinhardt confirmed in a level tone. "And I'll admit—it wasn't exactly pleasant to experience death for the first time."
His voice dropped, carrying a dangerous edge.
"However… you didn't spare them. They were innocent. They had done nothing to you."
"They were violating my right to peace!" Regulus snapped, offended at the accusation. "They were yelling like madmen, screaming and making noise. So, I silenced them. Permanently."
He spoke as if that were the most natural and reasonable thing in the world.
Then, pointing a finger directly at Reinhardt, he added with growing outrage, "And you! You're cheating! Do you understand that? You're violating my rights right now! How dare you deny me my rightful kill?! How dare you just… pop back to life like it's nothing?! Do you have any idea how unfair that is? Do you not comprehend that people are supposed to die when they're killed?!"
Regulus ran both hands through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. The idea of having to kill Reinhardt all over again clearly did not appeal to him.
"Just because you are correct," Reinhardt said evenly, pointing his sheathed Dragon Sword in Regulus's direction, "does not mean you are right."
(A/N: LMAO.)
What followed could only be described as a clash between two of the most absurdly overpowered individuals in existence.
Reinhardt, however, restrained himself, constantly diverting his attention to shielding bystanders and avoiding collateral damage.
This handicap cost him dearly—time after time, Regulus's unrelenting attacks managed to overwhelm him.
Reinhardt suffered grievous injuries, each time dying in ways that would have been permanent for any other man. And each time, the orange light returned, restoring him as if the fatal blows had never landed.
By the end of it, Reinhardt had died four more times.
Regulus, on the other hand, fought with zero restraint, zero hesitation, and seemingly zero vulnerability.
He was practically invincible, however Regulus had yet to find a single way to permanently kill Reinhardt who seemed to have no end to his ressurections. This infuriated the Sin Archbishop beyond measure.
"Damn you!" Regulus shouted, his voice breaking into a high-pitched shriek of frustration. "Fuck your entire family! Fuck your mother! Fuck your whole worthless ancestry! You have violated rights I didn't even know existed until just now! Do you have any idea how violated I feel right now?!"
"I do not care how violated you feel," Reinhardt replied, his expression as cold and unshakable as ice. "But you have committed countless crimes, and you have violated far too many laws—both written and unwritten. As long as I am in this world, I will continue to stand against you."
His grip on the sheathed sword tightened. "And I will fight you for as long as it takes… until you stop."
Regulus suddenly fell silent mid-rant.
He stared at Reinhardt with a surprised look, almost as if a new idea had just popped into his mind.
Then, with a smug smirk spreading across his face, he laughed loudly.
"Haha! As expected of my perfect self! As expected of someone as intelligent, as noble, as gifted as me!" His voice was full of arrogance, practically dripping with self-admiration.
Without wasting another second, Regulus once again broke the sound barrier, vanishing in a deafening sonic boom.
In less than a blink, he reappeared right in front of Reinhardt and threw a punch. But this time, something was different.
The attack didn't leave a scratch on Reinhardt's body—it didn't even feel like it connected normally.
Instead, the strike generated a shockwave so powerful it launched Reinhardt high into the sky, sending him rocketing upward like a human missile.
The reason was simple—Regulus's Authority.
His ability allowed him to stop the flow of time on himself, making him completely invincible and giving him incredible strength and speed.
But the most terrifying aspect of his power wasn't just his own frozen time—it was that anything he touched could also have its time stopped, remaining locked in stasis until he decided to let it resume.
When Reinhardt had confidently declared that, as long as he was alive in this world, he would stand against him, Regulus had gotten an idea.
Why waste energy trying to kill someone who kept coming back from the dead? Instead, he'd simply stop Reinhardt's time and hurl him far away, somewhere he couldn't interfere for days.
And that's exactly what he did.
Reinhardt, frozen in the grip of Regulus's ability, was sent hurtling higher and higher until he disappeared into the upper atmosphere, far beyond the reach of anyone below.
Regulus's grin stretched from ear to ear as he watched his opponent vanish from sight.
"This is what you get for violating my rights," he said smugly, brushing his hands together as if the matter were settled.
Satisfied with himself, Regulus strolled back toward the church at a leisurely pace, his earlier grin fading into his usual mix of grumpiness and narcissistic self-importance.
When he returned, the wives waiting at the entrance immediately bowed to greet him. Felt, however, didn't bow. She just stared, her face full of shock and confusion.
'Why is Regulus back? Where's Reinhardt? Shouldn't Regulus be lying dead right now?' Her thoughts spun, each one worse than the last. Then, another even more disturbing possibility crossed her mind.
'Did Reinhardt… lose?'
Her face went pale at the absurdity of it, but the way Regulus looked so smug—and so alive—made it seem real.
"Where's Reinhardt?! What did you do to him?!" she demanded, stepping toward him in anger.
Regulus's expression twisted instantly. In a flash, he closed the distance and clamped a hand around her neck, lifting her off the ground with ease.
"Your husband returns from battle," he growled, "and instead of worrying about me, instead of showing me proper respect, you dare to yell at me? This is a violation of my rights as your husband!" His voice rose into a shout as he tightened his grip, cutting off her air.
One of the wives—Number 184—hesitantly stepped forward, her body trembling. "L-Lord Husband… she is not yet your wife."
The moment those words left her mouth, Regulus turned his glare on her. The sheer malice in his expression made her flinch, and the rest of the wives quickly looked away, already assuming she was as good as dead.
Sure enough, he raised his free hand, preparing to strike her down—
"STOP!" Felt screamed with all the air left in her lungs. "I apologize! I apologize for my behavior!"
Regulus held his glare for a few seconds longer before loosening his grip and letting her drop unceremoniously to the floor. Felt landed hard, coughing and gasping for air.
"Very well!" Regulus declared with mock generosity.
"As a magnanimous and forgiving husband, I will spare you both this time. But do not—" he jabbed a finger at her "—try to take advantage of my kindness. Now… thanks to that bastard ruining my mood, I am no longer in the mood for a wedding today. We shall have it tomorrow instead. And if there are any disturbances, you will be violating my rights again!"
With that, he patted his spotless clothes—though there wasn't a single speck of dust on them—and walked away as if nothing had happened.
The wives collectively exhaled in relief. Sylphy, her body still slightly trembling though her face remained neutral, approached Felt. She placed a hand on the girl's back.
"I am… extremely grateful to you for saving my life," Sylphy said quietly. "But you should start preparing for the wedding. Lord Husband is unbeatable—no one can defeat him. Not even the Sword Saint. It was always fated this way. After the wedding, Lord Husband will become even more irritable. If you fail to follow his rules, he may kill you without hesitation."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked away.
Felt was left frozen, her thoughts spiraling. Reinhardt was dead—or gone forever. That had to be the truth. Regulus wouldn't have returned so calmly otherwise.
'Rom…' She thought of her grandfather and the possibility of never seeing him again. But the thought of Rom trying to rescue her and being slaughtered by Regulus was even more unbearable.
'No… No! I can't let Rom come here! If Reinhardt wasn't a match for him, then Rom wouldn't stand a chance!' she thought desperately. She decided to cling to the slim hope that perhaps the Lugunican government would intervene. But deep down, she knew the odds were painfully low.
Still, in order to survive—and to hold onto that faint hope—Felt offered no resistance. The next day, she married Regulus. He didn't kiss her, much to her relief.
Apparently, Regulus never touched his wives in that way. According to them, he considered sleeping with "inferior creatures" to be beneath his dignity.
(A/N: The real reason? Let's just say his dragon never rises.)
From that point on, Felt learned to wear an emotionless mask, obeying Regulus's every command without question.
Days later, news finally reached her ears—an army from Lugunica had been deployed to drive the Sin Archbishops away. For the first time since Reinhardt vanished, hope sparked in her chest. But it didn't last.
Soon after, Regulus returned from battle completely unharmed, his clothes perfectly pressed as if he'd been taking a leisurely stroll. No dirt, no scratches, not even a wrinkle.
The reports were grim. The army had been annihilated. Regulus had destroyed them single-handedly.
The light in Felt's eyes faded. She began to move through her days like a machine, no different from Regulus's other wives—silent, obedient, and hollow.
Until one day—
"Mongrel! Come out! This concubine is here because of the rights that you have violated!"
The voice was loud, proud, and unmistakably female.
That day, salvation appeared—not in the form of the man she had been waiting for, but in the form of a blonde-haired woman with golden eyes, wielding an axe that shone with immense, terrifying power. And beside her stood a man with dark hair and golden eyes that seemed to burn with intent.
To be continued…
(A/N: For those who haven't realized recent chaps have been double the size or more of the previous chaps. There will be 5k, 6k,7k and even 9k words chap in future.
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