["Who are you?"]
[Hachiman's back is a waterfall of cold sweat. He doesn't beg for mercy; instead, fueled by a mixture of hatred and lingering disbelief, he glances at the broken, crumpled form of Emilia. With a surge of desperate strength, he raises his fists against the encroaching shadow.]
["Since you've provided such an entertaining show," the assassin purrs with a predatory smile, "I suppose I can tell you. I am the Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert."]
[A flash of steel. A whisper of cold silver.]
[There is no suspense.]
[Hachiman Hikigaya: Deceased.]
"Ah..."
In the Lawson, Hachiman's expression was unreadable. His eyelids drooped, and a heavy, weary gloom settled over his features.
"Don't blame yourself," Yukino whispered, trying to anchor him. She had stopped looking at the screen; the sight of four lives snuffed out so brutally was more than she could stomach. "This wasn't your fault. Even without you, that girl would likely have gone to that cellar alone. And besides..."
She hesitated, her voice sharpening with a desperate, caustic pragmatism intended to keep him safe. "Besides, one more of you or one less... it wouldn't have changed a thing. You are powerless there."
It was a cruel thing to say, but she would endure the guilt of being cruel if it meant he didn't run out into the night to chase a death sentence. But before Hachiman could offer an answer, the broadcast shifted, and the weight of her conscience tripled in an instant.
[Static... Crackle...]
[The screen is consumed by darkness. Not a mere absence of light, but an abyssal, suffocating void—a darkness that feels capable of devouring the sun and ending the world. To look upon it is to feel one's soul being dragged into a bottomless pit.]
Shring—!
In the Capital of Lugnica, Reinhard van Astrea—the Sword Saint, the beloved son of the world—stood with a grim, solemn face. His hand had reflexively clamped onto the hilt of the Dragon Sword, Reid. For the first time in his life, he felt a threat that vibrated through his very bones.
An unspeakable dread. A terror that transcended physical form.
Across two worlds, the weak and the strong alike felt their bodies stiffen. Pressure clamped down on their lungs. Julius Juukulius drew his blade, his face pale—but what use was a sword against a dragon that didn't even notice the ants beneath its wings?
"It's not enough. Not even close," Roswaal, Crusch, and the Sages muttered. The deeper their knowledge, the more they understood the horror lurking in that void.
Even Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, whose physical condition was at the peak of human potential, felt the suffocating weight. But unlike the others, his usually mask-like face betrayed a flicker of something new: a raw, intellectual hunger. For the first time, he felt a thrill that no scripted room could provide.
[Static...]
[The lens snaps back to reality.]
[Bright sunlight. A bustling city street.]
[Hachiman Hikigaya stands in the center of the Capital, his eyes wide and vacant, his mind a shattered puzzle. He reflexively clutches his stomach, his fingers digging into his shirt, but finds the skin beneath smooth and unscarred.]
["How... how is this possible?"]
[A dragon carriage rattles past. A soldier saves a child from the street. The fruit vendor calls out his wares. Hachiman sinks to his knees, clutching his head as his mind races to process the overload of data. The calculations are firing so fast his brain feels like it's overheating.]
["This is... no... focus..."]
[Despite the madness of the situation, his mature intellect refuses to break. He needs proof. He scrambles to his feet and sprints toward the alleyway from his memory. He finds the three thugs exactly where they were before.]
[Before their extortionate lines can even leave their mouths, Hachiman lunges, kicking the tallest one. Before the thug can retaliate, Hachiman reaches out, his hand patting the man's waist.]
["Just as I thought..."]
[Hachiman mutters to himself, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into a terrifying whole.]
["The dagger is in the exact same spot. The style, the size—identical. And they don't recognize me. The soldier saving the child happened at the exact same moment. It's too perfect for coincidence."]
[Hachiman looks up at the sky, exhaling a long, heavy breath that seems to carry the weight of a lifetime.]
["Three possibilities. One: I had a vision of the future. Unlikely—the pain of my stomach being opened was too real to be a dream. Two: Someone healed me and staged this entire loop. Too much effort for no clear gain. Which leaves the third... the most absurd, yet the only one that fits. Time itself has rewound. I died... and I came back. And I'm the only one who remembers the slaughter."]
The world erupted.
His clinical self-analysis, spoken with such grim certainty, shook the foundations of everyone watching.
"So... it's not just a replay?" someone whispered.
"Return by Death," Ayanokouji murmured, finally finding the name for the phenomenon. "The darkness didn't break the rule of focusing on Hachiman. It was the source of his power. It's the only variable that makes sense."
Beside him, Suzune Horikita felt a chill of envy and awe. The boy she had looked down upon as socially incompetent had just been handed the ultimate weapon: the ability to fail until he succeeded.
.................
5 new Chapters at 500 Power Stones