Hours later, everyone except Roswaal had gathered in front of the witch's tomb. The sky was an endless sheet of gray, and snowflakes drifted lazily down like feathers torn from a silent storm. They settled on the stone walls and earth, weaving a shroud of white that made the tomb look less like a resting place and more like a frozen altar. Silence ruled over the group; even their breaths, rising in mist, felt intrusive. Each cloud of vapor dissolved into the air, carrying their unease with it. Roswaal, however, remained apart, leaning against a distant pillar with that unreadable, listless stare—as if listening to an invisible melody only he could hear. His cold indifference gnawed at the edges of the atmosphere, making the air heavier still.
Thanks to his silver tongue, Subaru had managed to convince Garfiel and Ryuzu to step away, at least for now. The circle had tightened. The only ones left were Emilia, Subaru, Puck, Beatrice, Hikari, Geuse, Ram, and Rem. The weight of destiny seemed to press down upon this smaller gathering, as if the universe itself wanted to see what they would do next.
Ram, stubborn as ever, stood out starkly in her thin, impractical clothes. She hugged herself against the cold, her pale fingers digging into her arms as she tried to hold back her shivers. Her lips quivered as she turned a sharp glare toward Subaru, her tone half-biting, half-playful.
"D-damn it, Barusu… How could you drag a beautiful lady like me into this frozen wasteland?" Her words carried both mockery and reproach, laced with that familiar venom of hers.
Flugel sat nearby on the snow-laden steps, posture relaxed, gaze lost in the endless snowfall. The white curtain swallowed the world, yet his eyes glimmered with something darker—an unspoken curiosity, a hunger for what might unfold. Subaru took a few steps closer to him, then spun around to face the rest, puffing his chest out as if he were an actor making a grand entrance.
"With your permission, Mili and I will enter the tomb for the second trial." His voice rang with theatrical weight as he swept into a dramatic bow, lips curved with a faint, mischievous smile.
A light applause followed—Hikari, Beatrice, and Rem, their claps hesitant but warm, as though they were trying to pass some of their courage to him. Ram, however, narrowed her eyes, her smirk twisting into something mocking.
"Barusu, your sense of theatrics is truly pathetic," she said, every syllable sharp enough to cut.
Subaru's cheeks puffed out. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "I'm trying, alright?" he muttered, the mix of embarrassment and stubbornness thick in his tone. It was the same tone he had used countless times before when Ram had found new ways to jab at him.
Their petty bickering played like a familiar song, but it could not lighten the weight pressing on the group. Geuse had not moved once; his eyes were glued to the tomb's shadowed entrance, pupils wide as if straining to pierce the darkness within. There was something magnetic about his stare, as if he truly heard whispers bleeding from the stone. On the other side, Puck hovered close to Emilia, murmuring in hushed tones only she could catch. Their private exchange carried a heaviness that none dared to interrupt. Every whisper and every glance seemed to thicken the air, until the cold no longer felt like mere weather but something clawing at their souls.
Finally, Subaru drew in a long breath and turned to Emilia. Without words, she stepped forward, and together they crossed into the tomb's mouth. The others stood in silence, frozen in place, watching as the darkness swallowed them whole. Anxiety spread like a contagion, settling over those left behind.
As soon as Subaru's silhouette disappeared inside, Flugel stirred. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he rose to his feet. His smile was sly, curling like smoke.
"Well then… let's see what tricks our tiresome witch has prepared today," he whispered. His voice was tinged with amusement and hunger alike. A low chuckle escaped his lips before he vanished into the shadows, his footsteps swallowed by the corridor's depths.
—
When Subaru opened his eyes again, the world had shifted. He was standing in the heart of the second trial. Horror sprawled before him: his own corpse lay broken on the cold stone floor. His throat had been slit wide open, entrails spilling across the ground like grotesque offerings. In his stiffened hand he still clutched Emilia's lifeless fingers, the ice of her flesh biting into his. Her eyes were empty, void of light, her lips frozen in a half-smile that would never be finished. The sight hollowed him out from within, as though his soul itself were tumbling down into an abyss.
He knew—rationally—that this was illusion, a test designed to gnaw at his spirit. None of it was real. And yet his stomach clenched, his throat tightened. The nausea was suffocating, nearly dragging him to his knees. Forcing himself down beside his corpse, he shut his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath.
"Lucas's visions… they almost felt more real than this," he whispered, voice trembling with both fear and determination. His throat burned, bile rising, but he swallowed it back with iron will. He would not give in. Not here, not now. He could not afford to lose his resolve—not with Emilia counting on him.
The trial shifted again, dragging him violently into a new nightmare. This time his death was more brutal, more personal. Elsa stood before him, hands slick with his blood. His body lay in shredded pieces at her feet. His severed head rolled across the ground and stopped at her boots, where she crouched down, tilting her head with predatory interest. Her eyes glistened with a feverish gleam, hungry and mocking.
"How strange… I expected more from you," she said. Her tone was not loud, but it echoed coldly inside his skull, merciless as a blade. Her smirk cut deeper than the wounds across his body.
Then, as swiftly as it came, the nightmare unraveled. The colors drained, the images crumbled. Darkness surged forward like a tide, swallowing everything in its path. Subaru stood alone once more, suspended in the void between trials, his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest.
The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh death… each one tore at him in a new and merciless way. His chest ripped apart, lungs filling with blood. His throat crushed by unseen hands as he drowned on air. His flesh consumed by fire until nothing remained but ash and agony. Each end carved another wound into his mind, and each rebirth came with the weight of despair heavier than the last. Hope shattered like fragile glass, and his existence was being pulled beyond what any mortal spirit could endure.
Subaru's jaw was locked so tight that blood welled between his teeth, trickling from the corners of his lips. From his nose, crimson drops slid down his face, dripping onto the invisible ground beneath him. He forced the hot, metallic taste down his throat, swallowing it along with the stubborn fury that refused to die. The taste was bitter, but it was his anchor.
"Get a grip, Subaru… it's just an illusion… just an illusion," he whispered within himself, trying to scream but managing only a frail echo in the cavern of his mind. Yet even that thin thread of reassurance was swallowed by the vastness of despair creeping into him, seeping like cold water through every crack in his resolve. His thoughts frayed. His heart trembled. The line between dream and nightmare blurred.
The illusions warped further. They trembled and broke into twisted fragments of reality. A white-haired Subaru laughed madly before tripping over his own feet and dying in absurd fashion. Another wore a grotesque mask, faceless yet screaming, collapsing under invisible blades. Versions of himself piled up in a grotesque parade—some pitiful, some horrifying, others so absurd they threatened to drive him insane. Death after death, strung together into a mocking necklace of suffering.
Then, everything shattered. The ground cracked like a mirror, the sky bled into darkness, and all images splintered away as though the world itself had given up the illusion. Subaru's soul was yanked back, hurled out of the abyss and into suffocating silence.
His eyes snapped open, and he found himself back within the Witch's tomb. Cold stone beneath his palms, oppressive silence pressing against his ears. His knees trembled violently, his lungs heaving, dragging in ragged breaths. He leaned forward on shaking arms, fighting simply to rise.
"H-huh? What's happening… why was I cast out?!" His voice wavered, caught between confusion and rage. Blood still stained his lips, bitter on his tongue. One thought thundered through him: Was this trial truly meant to test his will, or was it a cruel machine designed to break him piece by piece, until nothing of him remained?
Slowly, unsteadily, he lifted his gaze—and froze. Lying ahead, pale and motionless, was Emilia. Her body stretched on the cold floor, lifeless, unmoving. His heart lurched violently. A sharp blade of grief carved through his chest. The colors of the world seemed to drain, replaced by a gray void. He staggered toward her, panic clawing at his throat. But before he could reach her, small and familiar arms slipped around his neck from behind, clinging desperately.
"Nii-nii…"
That voice. It cut through the haze of despair with the clarity of lightning. Hikari.
Subaru's eyes went wide with disbelief, his breath caught. His heart stumbled in his chest. Slowly, as though afraid the moment would vanish, he turned his head. "H-Hikari? What… what are you doing here? How—how can you be here?!"
She only held him tighter, pressing her trembling body against his back as if to tether him. Her voice shook, fragile yet filled with a determination that broke his heart more than any illusion. "Onii-chan… you've been trapped here for so long. I couldn't leave you alone. I came… even if it cost me everything."
Subaru stiffened. Dampness spread across his chest. At first, he thought it was his own blood, his own sweat. But then the realization struck with cold horror—it was hers.
"No…" His voice cracked as he pulled her back just enough to see. The frail figure in his arms looked fragile, her small frame weakening with every breath. His throat closed, his vision blurred with disbelief. Across her chest, carved deep and merciless, was a wound like a blade had opened her heart. Blood welled and trickled, slow and cruel, each drop a mockery of his helplessness.
"H-Hikari! No—don't fade, don't you dare! Lie down, I'll save you, I swear I'll save you!" His hands shook as he lowered her gently to the ground. He pressed his palm to her chest, pouring everything into the act. Mana surged in him, desperate and wild, burning through his veins until his palms seared with heat. He forced it into her body again and again, frantic, refusing to stop. But something blocked him, a wall that he could not pierce.
"Wh-why?! Why won't it flow?!" His voice cracked, his eyes wild, drowning in terror. He stared into Hikari's gaze—so weary, so soft, so heartbreakingly calm.
She exhaled, a sound thinner than a sigh. "My heart… it stopped long ago, Nii-nii. I don't even know why I'm standing now… maybe… maybe it's because of Lunaria?"
The words lodged in Subaru's chest like a knife. He shook his head furiously, refusing, denying, tears brimming at the edges of his vision. But before he could speak, another voice filled his mind—a voice that carried with it a weight he knew all too well.
Flugel. "So the brother and the sister both cannot die… two immortals, yet imprisoned by different chains. Tell me, boy, isn't that irony at its purest?"
Tears streamed down Subaru's face, falling hot against his trembling hands. His heart felt as if it were tearing itself apart, each beat a painful reminder of his helplessness. "Who… who did this?! If you're alive because of an Authority… it could last forever, or vanish in an instant. They can't be trusted! Tell me, Hikari… who did this to you?!" His voice cracked, somewhere between desperation and fury, echoing into the oppressive silence around them.
The golden light in Hikari's eyes slowly dimmed, flickering like a candle on the verge of death. Her shoulders slumped, and her tone was almost casual, disturbingly detached. "Ah… mainly Roswaal, Garfiel… and a lot of rabbits. Not much, right, Onii-chan? I managed to escape most of them…" Her words felt like knives carving into Subaru's chest.
Visions of the Great Rabbit's bloody massacre surged into Subaru's mind—gnashing teeth, ripping flesh, a sea of white fur soaked in crimson. His stomach lurched violently, bile threatening to rise. His lips trembled as he forced words out. "A-and the others? Rem? Meili? Don't tell me… they.."
Hikari's lashes fluttered as she blinked slowly. The faint smile ghosting her lips vanished completely, replaced by an emptiness so unnatural it chilled the air. "They're dead. Roswaal killed them. No one… no one could do anything." Her voice was hollow, stripped of life, as if her very soul had been hollowed out. In that instant, Subaru knew—this wasn't truly Hikari speaking. Something foreign and malicious had taken root.
His chest tightened with rage and sorrow. Subaru wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve, though they were quickly replaced by fresh ones. His breath came out harsh, like a storm wind crashing through broken walls. Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet. Every movement felt heavy, like lifting the weight of a world he was doomed to lose again and again. He remembered this scene—the too-perfect despair, the sense of entrapment. This trap, this illusion… he knew it far too well. Doubt gnawed at him, feeding his anger, until his voice erupted, sharp enough to slice stone.
"Stop using Hikari's body as your disguise, witch."
Hikari's brows knitted together, her face twisting into mock confusion, eyes wide in feigned innocence. "Onii-chan? What are you talking about? I am Hikari your little sister. Can't you tell?" Her tone was soft, saccharine, and it only made Subaru's blood boil hotter.
The silence that followed was suffocating, like the world itself held its breath. Then, in an instant, a blinding light flared—Excalibur materialized in Subaru's grasp, radiance pouring from its blade as if defying the very illusion that dared ensnare him. Its glow rattled the false walls, tearing cracks through their painted reality. Subaru lifted the sword with both hands, steady despite the storm in his chest, and stopped the blade mere inches from Hikari's face. His eyes, glacial and merciless, bore into her.
"I said… stop wearing my sister's body." His voice deepened, resonating with a fury that shook even the illusion. He tilted his head back, jaw clenched, and roared with a thunderous force that shattered the quiet. "ECHIDNA! ENOUGH WITH THESE GAMES!"
The world responded. The ground convulsed beneath him, walls shattered like glass, and the ceiling split apart into jagged pieces. Reality itself let out a tortured scream, collapsing around him until everything dissolved into a void of infinite black—cold, endless, starless. The air froze in his lungs. The silence pressed against him, suffocating, until a slow ripple spread across the emptiness. Shapes began to form, colors weaving into existence. A new world stitched itself together.
Subaru now stood in Echidna's tea garden. The familiar sight was almost a mockery—the manicured grass, the delicate porcelain, the faint aroma of tea drifting through the air. Silence blanketed the garden, thick and stifling, like invisible rain falling soundlessly. At the far end, the Witch of Greed stood, her long white hair cascading over her shoulders, her black dress absorbing the gray light. A sly, false smile curved her lips, as if she'd been waiting all along.
Yet Subaru's gaze didn't land on her immediately. For in front of him, still at the mercy of his sword's tip, was another figure—the Witch of Lust, Carmilla. Her frail, delicate frame shook violently, her wide eyes shimmering with fear. She shrank from the blade, quivering like a trapped bird. When Subaru's gaze flicked down at her, her words tumbled out in stuttering desperation.
"U-umm… c-could you p-please m-move that sharp thing away f-from me?" Her voice cracked, every syllable weighted with terror. Tears welled, threatening to spill, her lips quivering with the effort to hold herself together. She looked moments away from collapsing in sobs.
Subaru inhaled deeply, dragging control back over his rage. His hand tightened on Excalibur before he willed it to fade. The divine blade dissolved into radiant shards, scattering like stars before vanishing entirely. He exhaled slowly, then turned his full attention on Echidna, his steps heavy, unyielding. The ground seemed to reverberate with each one.
Carmilla's trembling eased minutely, though the terror never left her glassy eyes. She stumbled backward, struggling to find her footing, her lips moving soundlessly. Words—secrets—caught in her throat like thorns. She wanted to speak, he could see it in the desperate flutter of her mouth, but fear clamped down on her voice. Subaru's footsteps echoed against the stillness, and the moment's meaning crystallized into a single truth: inevitable confrontation.
Echidna raised her porcelain cup with delicate fingers, lips brushing the rim as she took a slow, deliberate sip. The steam curled upward in elegant wisps, briefly catching the glimmer in her eyes. Her posture was relaxed, almost leisurely, as though none of Subaru's fury could reach her. As he closed the distance, she remained poised, her air cold and detached, as if this entire meeting were nothing more than another entry in her experiments—a scene she had orchestrated, rehearsed, and enjoyed countless times.
The world around them mirrored her cruelty. The sky hung dull and gray, color drained from it as if hope itself had fled. No breeze stirred the air. Even the faint hum of life was absent, leaving behind only an oppressive stillness that wrapped around them like a noose.
Subaru stopped across from her and sank into the chair opposite, his body rigid, arms folding across his chest. His glare locked onto hers with unwavering force. Every muscle in his face was pulled taut, his exhaustion sharpening his expression into something almost unrecognizable. "Well?" he demanded, his voice thick with anger yet frayed with fatigue. "Why am I here?" His lips were parched, his chest hammered with each frantic beat, but he swallowed it all down, forcing himself to project nothing but defiance.
Echidna said nothing at first. A mysterious smile curved her lips as she leaned toward the table, sliding a finely crafted teacup across to Subaru. The porcelain was etched with intricate, swirling patterns, and for a fleeting moment they seemed to ripple and shift as though alive—like serpents coiling around the rim. Subaru hesitated before touching it, as though the cup itself might whisper secrets if he leaned too close.
"Congratulations on clearing the second trial," Echidna finally said. Her voice was soft, elegant, and yet carried an unsettling chill that laced itself around the heart like invisible chains. "You've advanced far better than I had anticipated. So much so, in fact, that I was forced to cancel the trial altogether. You left me no choice."
Subaru smirked at her words, but the fire burning in his eyes betrayed the anger he tried to mask. "It's not the first time I've been forced to look at myself, Echidna. Not the first time I've had to relive… him." His voice was edged with bitter irony, as though sarcasm alone could shield him from the gnawing discomfort.
Echidna's smile faltered. The air cooled as her gaze sharpened, polished steel beneath snow. "Ah… the former Archbishop of Pride. I know of him. If memory serves me correctly—Lucas Wykes?" She dragged the name with slow disdain, as though simply speaking it might poison the air.
Before the tension could tighten further, a childlike voice burst out behind them, bright as a spark. "Eda-eda! You're always so bad with names, It wasn't Wykes at all. It was Lucas Veilhart!"
The sound cracked the heavy mood like shattering glass. Typhon, the Witch of Pride, bounded forward with irrepressible energy. She waved both hands in the air and flashed Subaru a grin so wide it was almost mischievous. Her slim arms stretched skyward, her whole body vibrating with vitality, as though the very world could barely contain her.
"Baru! How are you?" she sang, her tone bubbling with warmth. "Did you make good use of the Authority I gave you?" The cheer in her voice almost masked the strange, shivering undertone of power that rippled beneath.
A chair appeared beside Subaru with a quiet thump, and Typhon wasted no time throwing herself into it. She swung her legs like a child at play, eyes fixed on Subaru with feverish curiosity. Subaru met her gaze without flinching, a faint smile breaking his guarded mask. "Yeah, Typhon. Thank you. You saved me a lot of trouble back there. I was surrounded by three Archbishops. Not exactly an easy situation to walk away from, right?"
Typhon giggled, laughter ringing like silver bells across the strange tea garden. "Of course it was hard, you dummy! But as long as you're alive and happy, then I'm happy too!" She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief, as if hoping to tug more secrets from his heart.
The moment stretched too long. Echidna's sharp voice cut through it like a blade drawn across stone. "Ahem. This is my domain. Kindly refrain from stealing the scene, Typhon." The weight in her words pressed the atmosphere flat, like a knife driven through the table.
Typhon pouted immediately, puffing out her cheeks as though she might burst. She mumbled in complaint, swinging her legs harder, hiding her frustration behind a mask of childish sulking. Yet her eyes lingered on Subaru, unwilling to let him slip away so easily.
Not long after, a figure emerged from the haze that clouded the edges of this dreamlike space. Carmilla, the Witch of Lust, approached timidly, her steps hesitant and her presence so faint it was almost transparent. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, cheeks flushed pink, voice no louder than a sigh. "I-if you'll allow me…" She eased herself into a chair that materialized for her, hands clasped tightly in her lap as though holding her own fragile courage together. Subaru spared her only a passing glance; his attention pulled back again toward Echidna.
He parted his lips to speak—but the sky itself cracked with golden light. The table groaned, stretching wider, as two new chairs formed from the shifting void. A heavy tremor rolled across the air as a figure descended with explosive force, shaking the ground where she landed. Minerva, the Witch of Wrath, stood tall and unyielding, her sharp eyes scanning the gathering like a hawk. Rage radiated off her presence in thick waves, crackling like stormfire.
Her finger snapped toward Echidna, her voice booming with thunder. "Echidna! You'd better have a damn good reason for dragging me here!" The sheer force of her fury rattled the porcelain cups on the table.
Before anyone could respond, another voice drifted lazily from the haze, heavy with disinterest. "Really now… Echidna. You even dare interrupt my nap? What a pain. Yaaawn." Sekhmet, the Witch of Sloth, slumped onto the ground without grace. Her long hair pooled like a dark river around her, arms dangling lifelessly as if her very bones refused to carry her weight.
Echidna, utterly composed, lifted her hand in an elegant motion. "Welcome, both of you. Yes, I called this gathering, but your attendance was never compulsory. You chose to appear of your own will. If you would prefer, you may simply observe. Still, the chairs are prepared—please, sit."
Minerva clicked her tongue, anger still smoldering in her eyes. "Tch. Fine. Just this once. Whatever you've hinted at—this so-called abnormality—concerns us all." She circled the table with the stride of a warrior, each step heavy and deliberate, before lowering herself into the chair directly across from Subaru. She folded her arms, her piercing gaze locking onto him, weighing his every breath as though searching for weakness.
Sekhmet drifted lazily in the air, suspended by her invisible arms as though gravity itself was a nuisance unworthy of her effort. She floated just above the table, long hair spilling like a river, her expression dull and heavy-lidded. "I'll remain at a safe distance as an observer. Yaaawn. Honestly, the mere thought of standing is enough to tire me," she muttered, her voice stretched with languid disinterest. Her gaze swept carelessly across the table, not a flicker of excitement betraying her.
Echidna, standing opposite, simply gave a delicate shrug, utterly unbothered by Sekhmet's indifference. For her, the board was almost set, the pieces nearly aligned. Her pale fingers brushed across the polished wood of the table as though ensuring perfection, her sly smile suggesting that everything was proceeding according to her design.
It was then the chamber shifted. A deep resonance shook the air—heavy metallic footsteps striking stone in relentless rhythm. Each booming step announced the arrival of something colossal, something that demanded attention. Shadows flickered against the walls as the sound drew nearer, dragging every eye toward the source. At last, with a grinding finality, a massive coffin was set down upon the floor. Its sheer weight made the ground quiver, the iron bindings clattering against its surface.
The lid groaned, creaked, and then slowly opened, releasing a faint, suffocating scent that made the air thick. From within emerged Daphne, the Witch of Gluttony, her form tightly bound in heavy chains that jingled with each motion. She inhaled sharply, nose raised like a predator savoring the air, her chest rising as she drank in every scent around her. The sound of the chains echoed through the room like a perverse melody, her lips curling wider with every rattle. A smile blossomed across her face—bright, childlike, and utterly terrifying.
"Oh? So many scents!" she sang, her voice sweet as sugar, the sound at odds with the lurking menace beneath. "I see now why I was invited! Hmmm~ one of you smells particularly delicious…"
Her gleaming with hunger, locked instantly onto Subaru.
His stomach dropped. Subaru stiffened as though struck, then in sheer disbelief sniffed at his own shirt and sleeves. "Are you serious?!" he burst out, voice cracking, his breath tangling in his throat. The accusation, absurd as it was, chilled him to the bone.
Daphne giggled, leaning against the edge of her coffin with a predator's delight. "Oh yes! You smell so tempting… enough to make me want to eat you whole." Her chains writhed like serpents, adjusting themselves as she sank into her chained throne, each link slithering and coiling as if alive. She settled there as though it were a throne of flesh and iron, her smile unbroken.
With her arrival, the circle was complete—or nearly so. The witches were gathered, their disparate presences filling the chamber with a storm of conflicting auras. And yet, one was absent. Satella. Her name was not spoken, but her absence was felt like a shadow looming over them all, an unseen presence that made the air heavy and hearts restless.
Subaru sat among them, his skin prickling, caught in the impossible gravity of the moment. To his left was Typhon, cheerful and childlike, swinging her legs with a bright smile that clashed with the atmosphere. Yet to his right, the seat remained conspicuously vacant. Was someone else meant to join them? Or had that space been left open intentionally, as a cruel reminder of who was missing?
He exhaled slowly, a sigh escaping his lips before he realized it. His heart raced, thoughts colliding like blades in the dark. He turned his gaze toward Echidna, searching for answers in her pale, calculating eyes. She rose with a slow, elegant motion, her raven hair cascading behind her as though framing her like a portrait. Her lips curled into a devilish smile, sharp and knowing. Her slender fingers glided across the table's surface, trailing deliberately as though marking her claim on the moment.
Then she spoke. Her voice rang out clear, commanding, and resonant, filling every corner of the hall like a chime of silver bells laced with poison.
"The Witch's Tea Party," Echidna declared, her tone wrapping around the words like silk and steel combined, "shall now… officially begin."