Infiltrating Alone
Everyone present understood how the battle ended.
Subaru noticed the last Witch Cultist charging at him. He hesitated for a moment—then gave up resisting.
—He had gambled, and won.
That thought flashed through his mind, and Subaru's consciousness sank into darkness.
.
.
.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he awoke.
As he came to, Subaru felt a strange mixture of emotions—mild admiration that the Witch Cult valued him more than he expected—and assessed his surroundings.
There was a cold metallic feeling on his wrist; he was likely shackled. He couldn't sense any blinding light, so Subaru cautiously opened his eyes.
A pair of eyes, gleaming with madness, stared straight at him.
They were cold and emotionless, like a reptile's. Unblinking, they met Subaru's gaze without hesitation.
The unexpected situation startled Subaru. He immediately opened his eyes wide. What he saw was a place that looked like a cavern. The light from crystals embedded in the ceiling illuminated the large hall faintly. Around its edges, countless shadows loomed.
Subaru turned his attention to the person who had discovered him.
He was a man wearing a pitch-black robe, slightly taller than Subaru. His body was so thin he seemed to be skin and bones, almost like a corpse.
His dull green hair lacked any vitality, and his entire presence gave off an impression of filth and weakness.
But Subaru didn't let his guard down—because such a mad gaze was something he had only seen before in Capella.
"Oh?"
The man was staring at Subaru with great interest.
He leaned his body forward, tilted his head 90 degrees to the right, and observed.
"I see… I see… This is certainly… very interesting."
Nodding as if in understanding, the man turned to the side. The cultist who had brought Subaru here was kneeling on the spot in a posture of reverence, awaiting the man's next words.
All the surrounding shadows also knelt before the man.
However, the man paid them no mind.
With a thoughtful expression, he stuck the fingers of his right hand into his mouth—and bit down hard with his molars, crushing a finger inside.
"You wouldn't happen to be… Pride, would you?"
Blood and flesh clung to the corners of his mouth as he asked his question, utterly unconcerned with the bleeding digit.
"You're one of the Sin Archbishops?"
Prepared for this moment, Subaru wasn't surprised by the eccentric man.
The moment the Witch Cultists had attacked him, Subaru realized how deeply revered he was among them.
From that, he had guessed that a Sin Archbishop must be present. And the death of Patrasche had steeled his resolve to trade his life for information if necessary.
The man showed no signs of displeasure at being figured out.
As if just remembering something, he pulled his finger out of his mouth and, with his blood-soaked hand, gently pressed his fingers to his forehead.
"Ah, yes, that's right. Come to think of it, it seems I've been quite rude. Look at me—I haven't even introduced myself, have I?"
Displaying an oddly out-of-place courtesy, the man gave a disturbing smile.
"I am a Witch Cult Sin Archbishop—"
He slowly bowed reverently, then raised only his head to look forward and state his name.
"Bearer of the seat of Sloth—my name is… Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti!"
Petelgeuse said this with a twisted grin.
"I see," Subaru responded, taking a deep breath and forcing a friendly smile.
"I'm not Pride. I'm Natsuki Subaru. By the way, are you planning to kill me?"
"Kill? No, no, no. You are loved, blessed with Her affection! I—we—can only respond with diligence! And thus, a trial! A trial must be given! To discover the meaning of Her love, in this world, in this very moment, I shall! For love, for love, for love, for love—!"
Petelgeuse screamed as he clawed at his own face, his madness sending a chill down Subaru's spine.
Suddenly, his head turned 90 degrees again, and he looked at Subaru with burning eyes.
Then, spreading his arms wide, he shouted:
"We must not be slothful! To repay Her love sincerely, we must be diligent!"
Subaru, unable to comprehend the man's thought process, sincerely wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible.
"Um… So, what should I do next?"
Swallowing down the disgust rising in his chest, Subaru lowered his head to keep Petelgeuse from seeing the hope in his eyes.
"Hmm, yes, that intent… is quite acceptable… yes."
Petelgeuse did not seem to notice Subaru's ulterior motives.
He leaned his face close and sniffed at Subaru as if confirming the scent of the Witch's miasma.
A hazy smile crossed his face as he held out both blood-covered hands, showing Subaru his ten fingers.
"If we were to assign you to one of my current Fingers, the concentration of affection you bear would be too much… Truly, it is strange.
Unstable.
Incomprehensible…
In this situation, during this trial—why would someone seemingly marked by the Gospel appear now? This rich scent of the Witch's love… what exactly is it?"
Petelgeuse took a step back, puzzled.
Then, he took a book from beneath his robe. Subaru remained calm—he knew that even a superior Gospel couldn't correctly read his situation.
Petelgeuse stroked the spine of the book with affection, then opened its pages slowly and solemnly.
As he flipped through, his pace grew faster and his eyes increasingly crazed.
"There is no mention of your name in the Gospel. Neither your appearance during this great trial nor today's events! Not a single thing! Which means! Which means!!"
With spittle flying, Petelgeuse slammed the book shut and raised it high above his head.
"Which means you are insignificant! Which means your fate—your end, which isn't even recorded in the Gospel—has been entrusted to me! And yet, you are so deeply, deeply loved… What a contradictory existence you are!"
He took a step toward Subaru, shrinking the distance between them.
Tension wracked Subaru's body, and he tightly shut his eyes.
—In that darkness, one by one, the faces of those Subaru wished to protect appeared in his mind.
"Then… why don't you tell me the details of this trial? Let me decide for myself if it has anything to do with me."
Opening his eyes again, Subaru spoke with clarity.
He had a hunch that this trial was the reason for the Witch Cult's presence here, so he asked decisively.
Of course, he understood this inquiry might provoke Petelgeuse—but Subaru was prepared to die. He refused to let his life be wasted like before.
Petelgeuse fell silent at Subaru's words.
Then, slowly, he inserted his right hand into his mouth again. One by one, he bit off his fingers with his molars. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth.
Subaru's mind quaked in terror. Petelgeuse's hollow gaze sent chills down his spine.
His heartbeat quickened, pounding so hard it caused him pain.
As Subaru froze from tension, Petelgeuse finally removed his mutilated fingers from his mouth.
"As for the trial... the news of the blocked streets will still take some time to spread. The trial... is the same."