In the world of Re:Zero, within a certain forest.
A man in a black robe, hood drawn over his head, slowly awoke. He did not feel the cold. His expression was numb—neither joy nor sorrow. He had already lived for more than a hundred years.
Long ago, he encountered the Witch of Vainglory, Pandora. She took an interest in him and granted him her Witch Factor, making him the very first ArchSin Archbishop of Vainglory.
His Authority was speech itself—an absurd ability, but one that required certain conditions to activate.
He needed only to say something that would benefit him, then have his opponent deny it.
Once the condition was met, his Authority would take effect, turning his words into an everlasting truth in his favor.
Because of this, his battles were fought entirely through words—layer upon layer of lies. He could no longer remember the last time he had spoken honestly.
"ArchSin Archbishop Ren, you are finally awake."
A beautiful girl wrapped in white appeared by his side. A smile rested on her lips, yet it was never a true smile.
"Lady Pandora, what business do you have with me?" Ren asked cautiously.
Though he possessed great strength thanks to the Witch Factor, and his Authority allowed his words to shape reality, he never believed he had any chance against her. Unless, of course, he could uncover the weakness in her own Authority.
The ArchSin Archbishops' Authorities were near impossible to counter without knowing their principles or flaws.
For most, the first encounter was always fatal. Without the ability to return by death, or a sword saint's endless revival, facing them meant almost certain death.
For that very reason, Ren refrained from acting rashly. Pandora's words felt hollow, revealing nothing of value, yet he could not afford to ignore them.
"ArchSin Archbishop Ren, it seems you have finally crossed that step."
Pandora gazed at him with her ever-present smile, but her voice carried no emotion—only a statement of fact.
"Crossed it? Lady Pandora, I believe I might have already surpassed you." Ren replied with a smile.
Pandora ignored his verbal trap and continued. "Possibilities… It seems they are finally upon us. ArchSin Archbishop Ren, I look forward to your performance."
"Perhaps everything is nothing more than an illusion, a fleeting dream. Don't you think so, Lady Pandora?" Ren's tone remained calm.
The Witch Factor manifested differently in each host—whether in witches or archSin Archbishops, every bearer's Authority was unique.
The Authorities did not overlap, yet after Ren once used his ability against Regulus, Pandora had already formed some guesses about the true nature of his power.
Because of her insight, she had never once fallen into his web of words.
Pandora did not answer. Barefoot, her pale white feet touched the ground as she walked away, step by step. Her body seemed untouched by dust, eternally pure. Soon, her figure vanished from sight—as if she had never existed at all.
He pulled off his hood, revealing silver-white hair and a lazy face, always expressionless. This was Ren's current state of mind.
At first, he thought Pandora had chosen him because he was a transmigrator, but now it seemed more complicated. Last night he appeared above the black mist, and this morning she came looking for him. Her purpose was clear—there seemed to be a bigger goal.
In fact, yesterday he hadn't immediately trusted his other selves. Only after sharing their memories, and when his most important Authority failed, did he lower his guard slightly.
At night, Ren left.
Pandora's words clung to him like a curse, refusing to fade from his mind.
His performance? Could he, the lazy Sin Archbishop, act diligently? The ArchSin Archbishop, whose powers were the most mismatched.
Near the hidden village of the demon tribe.
Like the Witch of Vainglory, over the past hundred years, he had left traces in history. The Frozen Great Forest, the Empire, the Holy Kingdom—he had visited most countries.
Like a ghost without purpose, yet in reality, he did much like the Witch of Vainglory. He used words to change the world.
"Are the cultists eliminated? How boring." Ren walked toward the village inside.
The village was engulfed in flames, casualties were heavy. A mage was using extraordinary fire magic to wipe out the Witch Cultists there.
A pair of twins were present. The pink-haired one was unconscious, while the blue-haired twin's face was streaked with tears, not mourning the demon tribe's fall but feeling guilty relief for surviving.
The mage stopped and turned to stare at Ren. This aura could not be compared to a cultist's. A Sin Archbishop—this one, who had gained the Witch Factor and possessed unique powers.
"Mr. Roswaal, first meeting. I am from the Witch Cult, the Sin Archbishop of Pride—Ren." Ren introduced himself calmly, expression unchanged, as if looking down on Roswaal.
Inside, Roswaal was not calm. He had acted according to the future recorded in the Book of Wisdom, but now the Sin Archbishop had appeared. This was the first deviation from the prophecy.
"No reply? Of course. I know you are following the Book of Wisdom, or in modern Witch Cult terms, the Gospel. With my appearance as this deviation, you naturally have doubts. Don't worry, my strength is great. You cannot handle me. Speak freely." Ren rambled on without hesitation.
"How is this possible? How do you know?" Roswaal stared at the Sin Archbishop, losing control, his voice unmasked.
"Why? I even know you've always been the Roswaal from four hundred years ago. Fascinating. Forcibly occupying the bodies of your descendants—don't you think that's arrogant? Yet I admire you. It aligns with my teachings." Ren's expression never changed from start to finish.
Roswaal was an exceptional mage, his strength feared by many, but only the lunatics of the Witch's Cult paid him no mind, especially the Sin Archbishop of Pride standing before him.
"Always spouting nonsense." Roswaal immediately began casting fire magic.
"Trying to imitate the Warlock of Melancholy, how pathetic. Someone as weak as you is nothing more than a clown. Believe it or not, your magic won't harm me—it might even rebound onto yourself."
"Just more nonsense, that's impossible." Roswaal's defenses faltered the moment he heard Warlock of Melancholy, falling straight into Ren's verbal trap. At the same time, his fire magic shot forward, aiming directly at Ren.
"Gotcha. Took the bait. Now, lies can instantly turn truth, cause and effect established." Ren stood still, letting the flames crash against him.
Boom.
Roswaal was instantly blasted away by his own fire magic, his body severely burned. He could no longer care about his injuries and used the explosion's force to fly away into the distance.
"Why? Why? Why is this happening differently from what the Book of Wisdom said? Teacher, what should I do next?" Roswaal pulled the book from his chest and opened it, scanning its pages.
[Lead the False Sin Archbishop to the Sanctuary.]
The Book of Wisdom had not changed; only a single line had appeared.
Roswaal instantly realized that the one who had just appeared wasn't the Sin Archbishop of Pride, but the so-called Eighth Sin Archbishop from the legends.
So far, he hadn't even understood the mechanism of the Sin Archbishop's power and was already severely injured.
Bringing someone like that to the Sanctuary would require careful planning.
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