Subaru pulled himself together, pushing past the trembling in his limbs and the ache gnawing at his bones, and set out once again. His body screamed for rest; every muscle throbbed, his breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat clung to his skin like a second layer. But he couldn't afford to stop. He wouldn't allow himself the luxury. Every footfall was not just movement—it was will made manifest, the defiant echo of his heart against a world that wanted him broken. He was exhausted—no doubt about that. But the burden he carried in his chest far outweighed his physical weariness. This was a road he had chosen with open eyes, and turning back wasn't an option anymore. The only direction left was forward, no matter how brutal the cost.
As he continued, he began to notice something strange: the oppressive silence. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of distant birds, even the sound of wind threading through branches—gone. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath, recoiling from something unseen. The stillness crawled over Subaru's skin like cold mist, unnatural and sharp. Silence usually came with tranquility, a gentle hush that brought peace. But this silence? It was a prelude. The kind of silence that arrives just before everything shatters. A tension in the air that whispered of things hiding in the fog.
He furrowed his brow and called out into the void of his mind "You're being unusually quiet, great and ancient sage. How about you break this dead air and toss me one of your wise, sarcastic gems? Or did you finally grow tired of lecturing me and vanish into obscurity?"
No answer.
"Really? Nothing? No cryptic riddle? No smug commentary? What's going on? Did you run out of snark, or are you drowning in your own ego today?"
Still, silence.
Subaru's face tensed, his brows knitting tighter. Silence could hurt more than solitude. Flugel's absence wasn't just the lack of a voice—it was a gaping hole in the rhythm of his mind. The quiet wasn't peaceful; it was loud in its absence. Like a companion who suddenly turns their back without warning, leaving you to walk alone in the dark.
Frustration curled in his gut and spilled from his lips in a bitter whisper:
"Damn it... you're great at being useless when it counts. At least cough or something so I know you still exist."
Without warning, a sharp, white-hot pain drove into his mind like a spike. Subaru's knees buckled, and he collapsed into the dirt, clutching his head. The pain was savage, primal—less a headache and more like a scream inside his soul. His vision swam, and the world became a swirl of gray and red.
Then, finally, a voice echoed—sharp, cold, and unmistakably Flugel's "Is this enough to make you shut up?"
Subaru remained motionless for a few seconds, the echoes of pain still ringing in his skull. Slowly, he lowered his hands from his head, eyes glistening with involuntary tears that slid down his cheeks without resistance.
"You could've just answered," he muttered hoarsely. "Was the psychic stab really necessary? What were you even doing this whole time? Does your silence mean something, or were you just being dramatic again?"
This time, Flugel's voice was more distant, tired—even more bitter than usual:
"Maybe I was planning something. Maybe it's something that doesn't involve you. My existence doesn't revolve around your every moment, Subaru."
Subaru took a long, shaky breath, trying to dispel the pressure that lingered in his chest. He stepped forward again, boots squelching in the mud, as the fog thickened around him like a veil slowly closing in. Every step he took seemed to disappear into a wall of gray, swallowed whole by the creeping mist.
"Alright, if you're making plans, why keep me out of it? We're both trapped in this mess. I'm not just cargo on this ship—we're either both sinking or neither."
But the voice didn't return. Only that cold, biting silence answered him again. This time, it didn't feel like abandonment—it felt like warning. Something beyond the exhaustion was creeping into Subaru's bones now. Something darker.
Time slipped away. Hours passed unnoticed. The mist grew heavier, thick like ash, curling around Subaru's limbs as if trying to weigh him down. His body began to shiver despite the lack of wind. Each step felt more like dragging a corpse than moving forward. But he had to keep going. Falling here wasn't an option.
As he trudged through the Great Mist Forest, the shapes of trees loomed like specters in a graveyard. Long shadows stretched and twisted around him, distorting with the fog, silent witnesses to his struggle. Every branch, every trunk felt like it was watching him—counting each breath, each heartbeat, waiting.
He muttered to himself, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper:
"The assault on the White Whale... two days from now. Please... just not today. I don't have anything left. I just want to walk today."
But fate rarely honors a plea.
Even before the words finished leaving his mouth, something massive stirred ahead.
A shadow—immense, dreadful. A towering presence cutting through the fog like a blade. Snow-white, grotesquely majestic.
Subaru's eyes widened in raw disbelief. His breath caught, and his pulse slammed against his ribs.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
The White Whale emerged, not as a beast, but as a force of nature. Its gigantic body blocked out the sky, wings slicing the air like blades. Every flap sent ripples through the fog, turning the stillness into a storm. The ground trembled with its breath. Its presence wasn't just frightening—it was offensive to the laws of existence. It was wrong. It was blasphemy made flesh.
Subaru felt his lungs tighten. His instincts screamed to run, to hide, to disappear. But instead, he stood there, clenching his jaw.
"If I had a luck stat, it'd be deep in the negatives," he muttered through grit teeth.
The White Whale let out an ear-splitting, bone-rattling scream that fractured the silence of the heavens. The sky itself seemed to cry out in protest, vibrating violently with the sheer volume of the beast's roar. Subaru clutched his ears, a sharp pain stabbing through his skull as the pressure built. It wasn't just a roar—it was a declaration of destruction. The monster surged forward, its massive body casting an enormous shadow that devoured the landscape.
It wasn't coming to feed. It was coming to erase.
With a flash of light, Duskveil manifested in Subaru's hand like an extension of his will.
[Mana Blade - Active]
[Shadow Blades - Active]
[Half Warm, Half Cold - Active]
Mana burst through Subaru's veins like wildfire. His muscles tensed, his breath grew shallow. His pupils narrowed as violet light radiated from his eyes, an otherworldly glow that illuminated the thickening gloom. As his fingers tightened around the weapon's hilt, frustration turned to fury.
"Damn these daggers! If only you had more reach—if only you could cut deeper, farther... if only you were enough!"
His cry was more than a wish. It was a demand.
The dagger shivered in his hand.
Black smoke erupted from the blade, curling around it like a living serpent. It wrapped tightly, thickened, hardened. The form began to swell, elongate, reshape—and in a matter of seconds, the dagger had become something far more sinister. A scythe. Towering, curved, elegant and terrifying.
Dozens of eyes blinked open along the shaft. Not reflections, not illusions. Eyes—watching him, judging him, responding to him. The blade itself pulsed, feeding off his mana, lengthening with every heartbeat. This was no ordinary transformation. It wasn't just an evolution of steel—it was a reflection of intent.
This was a weapon of finality.
Above him, the White Whale's maw opened wide. Glistening fangs lined its mouth like the bars of a tomb. Its breath reeked of void, its approach a landslide of fate. Subaru didn't flinch. He inhaled the chill air and shouted with everything he had:
"OUT OF MY WAY!"
And with a scream of steel and energy, the scythe descended.
SLASH!
Violet light erupted in a violent arc. The scythe cleaved cleanly through the beast's enormous body, from its gaping mouth to the tip of its tail. The cut was not a wound—it was obliteration. Black mist exploded from the creature's insides like ink spilled across the sky. Flesh was torn. Bones shattered. Mana dispersed into the air like scattered embers. The beast's scream—high, shrill, and eternal—split the clouds.
Then came the fog.
A suffocating, ancient white mist fell from nowhere, engulfing the battlefield. So thick it felt like a weight on the chest, it swallowed all vision beyond a few feet. Shapes writhed in the distance, but nothing had form. Subaru stood still, heart pounding in the silence. The mist was alive. It pressed into his mind, muddying thoughts, unraveling memories. He was drifting in something far deeper than weather.
Then, the fog screamed.
The Whale—the original, or what had once been the original—let out a sickening, unnatural shriek and tore its own body in half. But there was no gore. No collapse. Only multiplication. Its body split perfectly in two, and then there were three. One rose toward the sky, vanishing into the clouds. The other two turned, roaring, and launched themselves directly at Subaru.
The earth trembled beneath their combined charge.
Subaru staggered. His balance faltered. Vision blurred by the lingering mist, he fought to remain standing. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. His breathing turned ragged. The fog was more than physical—it was spiritual. It dragged at his soul, weighed down his mind. He was moments from falling.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
"No... not here. Not now. I've died too many times. I've endured too much. This ends with me—standing."
His voice was low, but steady. He raised his hand, fingers trembling, and drew a breath that pulled fire into his lungs. From the center of his palm, a shadow began to coil.
"Pride Breaker."
The words rang like a death knell.
The fog recoiled.
Instantly, it began to melt, collapse, disintegrate. Like a ghost exposed to the sun, the cursed mist turned to vapor and lifted into the sky. The battlefield cleared in seconds, and before him stood the two Whale clones, eyes wild, jaws wide, power radiating off their forms.
Subaru met their charge with a step forward.
His scythe—his creation—glowed so brightly it seemed to hum with anticipation. The mana inside had reached its peak, pressing at the edges of the weapon, threatening to erupt. He knew it. Felt it.
It was time.
Ding!!
New Skill Acquired!
Mana Slash
- Enables the direct release of accumulated mana stored within the weapon.
(A/N: Overburst causes the mana inside the weapon to burst out as an "explosion."
Mana Slash, on the other hand, releases the mana in a more refined manner.)
He didn't hesitate. He couldn't. The moment was now.
[Mana Slash - Active!]
Subaru swung. The scythe roared to life.
Mana exploded from its edge in a wave of concentrated yin energy. The air cracked and buckled under the pressure as an invisible force tore through the battlefield. A gleaming arc of destruction cut forward like a scythe through wheat.
In the span of a heartbeat, it reached the twin Whales.
And cut them down.
Their bodies—each a towering wall of flesh and might—split cleanly from top to bottom. The echoes of their deaths roared like thunder. Pieces fell from the sky, crashing into the ground with force enough to fracture stone. The tremors that followed felt like omens—warnings of a power Subaru had only begun to grasp.
The battlefield fell silent. The mist was gone. The sky was clear. And Subaru stood tall, the violet scythe in his hand humming with residual fury.
He had survived. But more than that—he had changed something.
This was no longer a struggle.
This was a reckoning.
[Yang Travel - Active!]
Subaru lifted his eyes to the sky. Above him loomed the original White Whale, gliding ominously through the clouds as if it owned the heavens. The vast expanse of its body cut through the light like a specter of death, basking in what it likely believed to be its impending triumph. But Subaru's eyes, sharp and unflinching, burned with unwavering resolve. There was no fear—only fire.
Wrapped in blazing Yang energy, his body shimmered like a living comet. A sonic boom split the air as he launched himself upward with explosive speed. The wind howled past him, and the world beneath became a blur. His goal was unmistakable: the unprotected upper body of the White Whale.
"The belly might be magic-proof... but the top? That's where you're vulnerable. That's where I'll CUT you!"
He shouted his challenge to the skies, and the wind eagerly delivered it. Hearing the scream, the White Whale reeled in confusion and panic. It twisted its massive form, churning the clouds and vomiting out even more of its eerie, suffocating white mist. But no amount of fog could shield it now.
"PRIDE BREAKER!"
Subaru roared, activating his Authority once again. Instantly, darkness exploded from him, a writhing aura of pitch-black power that devoured the mist like a predator consuming prey. The very sky seemed to recoil from the force. In that moment of clarity, as the fog cleared, Subaru's vision sharpened—and he saw it. The White Whale was flinching. Its majestic movements faltered. Its dominance over the skies was crumbling.
It was time.
Gripping his scythe with both hands, Subaru roared and brought it down in a single, devastating arc
[Mana Slash - Active!]
The air ripped apart with a shriek as a colossal wave of mana, glowing with condensed fury, erupted forward. It struck the beast's neck dead-on. The pressure, the energy, the raw force—it was unbearable even to witness. In one clean sweep, the creature's massive neck was severed. Blood burst into the sky like a geyser, and its head, heavy as a building, spiraled downward, dragging the last vestiges of majesty with it.
But even decapitated, the White Whale's enormous body lingered in the air, held aloft by the dying embers of mana within. It drifted like a ghost, surreal and silent, suspended in the blue expanse before it, too, began to fall.
Subaru landed atop the corpse, his knees buckling under the impact. Blood flowed freely from his nose and lips. His breaths were shallow and erratic. His vision blurred, and his limbs trembled from exhaustion and strain.
"Wh...why...? Why does it feel like my body's falling apart...?"
A familiar voice echoed in his mind, old and measured. Flugel.
"Pride Breaker, though it grants overwhelming power, is not without price. The strain on your body is immense. The bleeding is a side effect—your body is still adjusting. But don't fear, Subaru. Power always demands something in return. You've simply begun paying the toll."
Despite his fatigue, Subaru smirked and wiped the blood off with the back of his hand.
"So I can't go around using it nonstop... big deal. I didn't plan to hold back anyway."
Below him, the world erupted.
The White Whale's mutilated body finally struck the ground with an earth-shaking boom. Trees bent from the force, dirt surged into the air, and the echoes of the crash carried for miles. Subaru vanished just before impact, slipping into the realm of shadows. The moment of death passed over him harmlessly.
He emerged seconds later, solid and standing. Dirt and smoke filled the air. Before him lay the monstrous body of the White Whale, still steaming, still reeking of death and violence. Its body, once the symbol of nightmare and fear, now lay still—a broken carcass.
To his left and right, the bodies of the false whales—clones—had also fallen. Each one was split in two, lying in twisted, grotesque positions like discarded puppets. The battlefield had gone silent. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Subaru stood alone in the aftermath. The battlefield was his and his alone.
The sky, though still veiled in the remnants of the fading mist, had begun to clear. Light filtered through, soft and pale, as if the heavens themselves had been holding their breath.
He approached the fallen beast, steam rising from its ruined flesh. Its body was ruptured in multiple places, intestines spilling out in nightmarish displays. The air was thick with the iron scent of blood. Subaru stared, transfixed.
This was victory. Undeniable, grotesque, raw. And yet—
His peace didn't last. A creeping thought wormed its way into his mind, turning triumph into tension.
"Crusch and her army... do they plan to take credit for this? Will they try to parade it as their kill?"
As if summoned by his suspicion, a silhouette took shape in the corner of his vision. Flugel emerged from the mist, his form vague yet imposing. His eyes, distant and contemplative, studied the fallen White Whale.
"That wouldn't be unusual," he said. "Everyone wants to be the hero. A tale of courage inspires. The people need stories. If someone can claim credit, they often will. And if they do, you'll be forgotten unless you leave something behind—proof. A mark. A sign. Something undeniable."
Subaru narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening.
He walked forward, each step dragging through the thick mud. His muscles screamed. His entire body felt like it had aged a decade in the last few minutes. Still, he pressed on, until he stood before the dead beast.
"Writing in the dirt is pointless," he muttered. "Wind erases it. Rain drowns it. But carving my name into this whale? That won't fade. That's permanent. No one's stealing this from me. Not this time."
He raised his hand, calling forth energy one last time. The air around him stirred as if holding its breath.
"This kill this moment belongs to me."
And with that, he moved to mark his name into legend.
The moment Subaru finished his sentence, Duskveil trembled in its scythe form, as if responding to the echo of his will. A subtle vibration ran along its curved blade before the weapon began to dissolve, its edges unraveling into thick, curling streams of black smoke. The transformation was slow and eerie, as though the weapon itself mourned the end of its carnage. The smoke spiraled around his hand like a living serpent before coalescing once again into the form of a dagger—compact, sharp, and unmistakably familiar. It was a rebirth.
Subaru felt the weight settle in his palm, solid and warm. The dagger pulsed faintly, as though it retained the memory of the battle just fought. The energy within it wasn't merely residual mana—it was alive, resonating with Subaru's own heartbeat. The bond between them felt renewed.
Without a second thought, Subaru gripped the dagger with both hands and turned to face the fallen titan. The White Whale's colossal body lay still, its bulk stretched across the broken earth like a monument of ruin. Its flesh, scarred and torn from battle, glistened faintly under the pale, mist-drenched light. Despite its death, it exuded a residual menace, as though even in defeat, it demanded to be respected.
He stepped forward. Every movement sent spikes of pain through his exhausted body. His legs were sore, his arms heavy, and his breath shallow. But he didn't stop. Reaching the whale's side, he raised the dagger. The blade met flesh—unyielding at first. The skin was thick, hardened from years of surviving the impossible. But Subaru pressed harder, pouring every remaining ounce of strength into the motion. Slowly, the weapon bit through.
He began to carve.
Each stroke was a struggle. Each letter etched into the whale's hide cost him something: the sting of strained muscles, the tremor of overworked joints, the ache of a body pushed beyond its limit. His fingers throbbed with every line, and his wrists screamed in protest. Blood from old wounds reopened, mingling with sweat on his brow and dripping onto the newly carved grooves. His breathing turned ragged, mouth dry, throat raw. Still, he refused to stop.
This wasn't just about leaving a name. This wasn't for glory.
This was a claim of truth—a rebellion against erasure.
Every carved line was an anchor against being forgotten. A defiant cry against those who would twist the truth. A testament to his pain, his growth, and his right to be remembered.
When the final stroke was done, his body swayed. His muscles trembled, and the dagger nearly slipped from his grasp. But he held it together, just long enough to step back and see what he had wrought:
KILLED BY SUBARU NATSUKI
The letters were deep, bold, and permanent. No weather would wash them away. No lie could overwrite them. The message stood as tall as any statue, as enduring as any legend.
Subaru took several shaky steps back, the dagger hanging loosely at his side like a spent flame. His chest heaved, each breath a storm. He stared at the sentence he'd etched—not just words, but the summation of all his struggles. Every loss, every restart, every pain he had endured up until now lived in those letters. This was his legacy.
A small smile broke across his tired face. It wasn't joy or arrogance—it was relief. A quiet satisfaction that, this time, the world would remember the truth.
"That's it..." he whispered. His voice was hoarse but clear, carried softly by the breeze that rustled through the mist. "This wasn't just about slaying a monster. This... this was the moment everything changed. For me."
He closed his eyes briefly, letting the reality of it all sink in.
Then, with quiet reverence, he dismissed Duskveil into his inventory. The dagger vanished in a shimmer of shadow, returning to its place of rest.
Subaru turned once more toward the whale's carcass, giving it a final glance. The sight was haunting yet satisfying. Then he looked at the engraved words, now catching faint glimmers of fading light as the mist above began to part.
He didn't speak again. Words weren't needed.
With slow, deliberate steps, he turned his back on the battlefield. The mist swallowed him gradually, his figure growing fainter with every step.
Ahead of him stretched uncertainty, uncharted and full of new trials.
But behind him—
Behind him was something eternal. A victory no one could deny. A story no one else could claim.
His name, carved into death itself, was now part of the world's story—forever inked in blood, grit, and an unbreakable will.