—In the noble quarter of the Royal Capital Lugunica stood the residence of Miklotov McMahon, a member of the "Council of Sages." Its quiet, unassuming exterior reflected the temperament of a master known for his honest frugality.
Most nobles were fond of evening receptions and banquets, and held such affairs often to show off their own power, but Miklotov had never chosen to conduct himself in that manner. The wise old man had made a name for himself as a civil official of the kingdom in his youth and been prized for his abilities ever since. As though to show that he had given his whole life to the kingdom, he had never taken a wife, and had worked himself to the bone in its service.
For that reason, eye-catching flamboyance had never once held sway over the McMahon Mansion in the noble quarter. —That held true only until this day, this moment.
Until this moment, when a scene of carnage, with many lives brutally cut short and scattered corpses giving off the stench of blood and death, had brought even Miklotov McMahon's life to its end.
Stunned before a sight he could not believe, Natsuki Subaru stood frozen in place.
"—"
He had been invited to the McMahon Mansion, yet on the way in he had not met a single living soul. Thirteen dead, most likely the mansion's guards and servants, every one of them cut down with a single stroke and robbed of their life. Having seen each of them with his own eyes, he had arrived at this room, the innermost of the house.
Judging by the desk and bookshelves furnishing it, this was probably Miklotov's study. A place steeped in history, where the wise old man must have spent his days fretting over the kingdom's future and racking his brain over how to deal with its countless problems—and against its far wall leaned Miklotov himself. Legs flung out, back propped against the wall, he looked like a child who had worn himself out playing and fallen asleep, and broadly speaking, that description was not wrong. —The wise old man had gone to sleep. Covered by the severed flag of Lugunica, he had fallen into a sleep from which he would never wake.
And beside the lifeless old sage—
"Crusch...?"
Miklotov lay slumped with the eyelids of his deeply lined face closed. The person standing over him, half-turned to look back at them, made Subaru's voice tremble pathetically. Because the one standing there, clad in dark-blue attire reminiscent of a military uniform, was a beautiful woman with long green hair and amber eyes—Crusch Karsten, her left eye hidden beneath a large eyepatch. Composed and unhurried in her stance, she was someone Subaru knew well.
"—"
At Subaru's faltering call, Crusch narrowed her single amber eye. She adjusted her grip on the slender sword in her hand and, her gaze still sharp, parted her thin lips.
"A wind of fear is blowing, Natsuki Subaru. —What is it you fear?"
"F-fear...? Fear, me? That's..."
"For that matter, what did you come here to do? Was there some personal connection between you and Miklotov McMahon?"
"That's... he called for me himself, and there were things I wanted to ask him too..."
"On this very day? I cannot fathom it. And what is it you wished to ask? A matter concerning the Royal Selection, or some other secret dealing? It is not as though I have struck the mark, yet your agitation only strengthens the wind. I will ask you once more. —Are you the genuine one I know?"
"—!"
Overwhelmed by Crusch as she pressed her interrogation on him like a torrent, he couldn't string the words together. He still hadn't managed to process what lay in front of him, and Crusch's words, cutting in with a keen tongue, bore down on Subaru like a blade in truth. Sterner still, Crusch set about prying open Subaru's chest with her gaze—
"—That's quite enough, in fact." "Yeah, it's not much fun to watch."
Unable to stand by and watch the exchange between Subaru and Crusch any longer, two people cut in from the side: Beatrice, who was here holding Subaru's hand, and Tiga, who had come along with them. Beatrice with the touch of her small hand, Tiga by stepping forward at an angle to block Crusch's line of sight, together they brought the swallowed-up Subaru back to himself. Thanks to them he remembered how to breathe, and the cold sweat that broke out belatedly drew the heat from his body. Meanwhile, Tiga, crescent-shaped curved sword in hand, squared off against Crusch. He tugged down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes and called out, "Say,"
"you'd do well to realize this situation is ripe for all sorts of misunderstanding, Duke."
"Misunderstanding?"
"That's right, misunderstanding. After all, this is a place where a great many people have lost their lives, and a pillar of the kingdom has passed away besides. If you're standing in the middle of it with a sword in hand, anyone would think the same thing. —That maybe it was Duchess Crusch Karsten who killed the people in this mansion."
He never let go of his usual way of talking, but it was a question thrown straight at her. And it was the very fact Subaru, too, wanted confirmed before anything else.
"—"
Tiga was right. Of the carnage at the McMahon Mansion, the prime suspect in the slaughter of everyone here, Miklotov their master included, was without question Crusch. But Subaru, who knew what kind of person Crusch was, wanted to reject that suspicion outright.
Crusch was noble, a woman of rare calibre who acted on sound judgment. Even after losing her Memories, even when she had needed to rebuild her dignified, aristocratic bearing from nothing, the goodness at her core and her decency as a person were things that not even Gluttony could devour. That someone like her would stain her hands with an atrocity like this was impossible. It couldn't be.
So Subaru wanted to hear a clear denial from her own lips. He wanted her to say that she, like Subaru and the others, had noticed something wrong at the McMahon Mansion and rushed here, only to arrive too late. Then, with that remorse and anger in their hearts, they would track down whoever had killed Miklotov and the rest, and together they would make them pay.
The denial that would make that possible, from her lips—
"You appear to be a thoroughly brazen sort."
Heedless of Subaru's prayer, Crusch fixed her gaze on Tiga, expression unchanged, and delivered her verdict. Tiga met it with a light shrug.
"A harsh assessment, but I'll accept it with good grace. So, how about it?"
"—"
"Was it you who killed Lord Miklotov McMahon? —Duchess Crusch Karsten."
"—It was."
Pressed again, and this time asked without any room for doubt, she gave Tiga a short reply. It was the worst possible answer, one that confirmed the suspicion and betrayed the hope Subaru had clung to like a prayer—a hoarse sound escaped Subaru's throat, and that brief reply echoed again and again inside his skull. As if to push his violent shock even further, Crusch drew in her chin slightly.
"Those connected to this mansion, and Miklotov McMahon, I cut down with my own hand. These people were traitors who meant the kingdom harm."
"—That would be you, Duchess!"
"Wai—!"
In that instant, with a roar, Tiga closed the distance in a single bound, swinging his curved blade, his Shamshir, and loosing a flowing strike at Crusch. It was an opening blow without a trace of hesitation that left no time to finish saying "Wait," yet Crusch knocked it aside with her own sword on a rising arc, and the clean ring of steel on steel resounded through the study. With that one note as the signal, shrieking steel and sparks began to burst between the two of them.
"—"
Sparks flew as the exchange began, and with the spacious study as their stage, the two swordsmen showed each other their skill. What Crusch wielded was the swordsmanship mastered by those who devote themselves earnestly to the blade. In the battle against the White Whale before she lost her Memories, and in the battle at Priestella afterward, the straightness of the lines her sword drew never changed, and her keen flashes of steel swept and leapt through the air in every direction.
Tiga's swordsmanship, by contrast, low to the ground and spinning like a top, was something singular. Beginning with Crusch, his opponent, the people Subaru knew to excel with a sword were the likes of Julius, Wilhelm and Cecilus, and setting aside Reinhard, whom Subaru associated more with chops and kicks than with a sword, every one of them was a swordsman who had honed what could only be called orthodox technique. If their swordsmanship was the proper path, Tiga's was the kind branded heretical: not cutting the opponent down head-on, but mercilessly going for fingers and toes, mixing feint with real intent, prizing the art of catching the enemy off guard, the technique of one who hungers for victory—
"Hyah—!"
The strike, loosed with a piercing cry, came with the Shamshir held in a reverse grip, its flash of steel tracing a path no ordinary cut would take as it closed on its target. When Crusch bent back to evade it, what followed was Tiga's long leg, cracking out like a whip. The kicks woven between his sword strokes worked as one continuous sequence, almost like a dance, raising an unbroken gale of blade work that bore down on the woman facing him.
Against that rapid barrage, spinning like a top, Crusch kept her expression unchanged, held her distance with quick, precise footwork, and met it with her single sword, seeking to seize the initiative in the dizzying exchange. Perhaps he had steel plates worked into his boots, for even when Crusch's blade met his kicks, it did not take his legs off, and against Crusch, the very essence of orthodoxy, the heretic swordsman showed a fighting style that refused to yield a single step.
"You are skilled. Does the Church of the Divine Dragon teach one to wield a sword in such a manner?"
"Self-taught, I'm afraid. I've always had light fingers and a nasty kick!"
"A brave wind. There is no lie in it."
Dodging Tiga's kick by a hair's breadth from her nose, Crusch drove in a straight, skull-splitting downward cut. Tiga caught it on his reverse-held blade, and the two exchanged those words with their swords locked. Back and forth the fight went, and since both of them were formidable, the advantage tipped toward neither, but—
"—Subaru! Pull yourself together, I suppose!"
"—Ah."
"Being in shock is only natural, in fact. But you can't just stand there dazed, I suppose!"
With that, Beatrice hopped up and slapped his cheek, and Subaru's eyes flew wide. The sharp, bursting sting made him realize he had once again let his thoughts grind to a halt and stood transfixed by the fight between Tiga and Crusch. He owed Beatrice deeply for that. He was in shock, no question. If he took a calm look back at the situation, there was no way he could hold himself together. So for now, before he faced what had happened with a clear head, he had to do what needed doing.
"My Friend."
When he looked, he saw that Tiga, blades locked with Crusch and the exchange between Subaru and Beatrice caught at the edge of his vision, had quietly shaped those words with his lips. The call came with nothing attached, yet Subaru grasped what Tiga meant. What he wanted wasn't help, or for Subaru to join the fight. It was—
"—Outside."
They had to get word out and stop Crusch's outrage. Fortunately, the capital right now was full of people Subaru could rely on. Garfiel was here, and Wilhelm, and Reinhard too. This was the nobles' quarter, so the mansions other than the McMahon Mansion would have knights and guards posted. They could call them in and restrain Crusch. And then—
"—"
—And then, punish Crusch? As a traitor to the realm who had murdered Miklotov?
"You will remain. I have not yet finished taking your measure."
The instant an inescapable hesitation crossed a corner of his mind, a blade of wind raced over Subaru's head. "Whoa?!" He ducked on reflex. The wind grazed the tips of his spiked hair and shot past behind him, striking the upper part of the room at his back; the slicing gust tore through the ceiling and walls around the doorway, and the collapse buried the entrance.
"Our way out...!"
The moment he understood it had been sealed, Subaru was forced to face the fact that his options had been whittled down, leaving him with a pitifully thin hand.
"—!"
With the escape route blocked, leaving was no longer a choice. In the middle of this firestorm, there was no time to fumble with rubble and clear a path. The Yin magic Minya lacked physical firepower; there was no hoping it could blast the whole doorway open. Which meant there were two things they could do: watch, or intervene. And in this situation, watching was the one option that was absolutely out of the question. But to intervene meant—
"—Fight? Fight Crusch?"
It made no sense. He couldn't grasp what was real. He couldn't accept what his own eyes were seeing.
How could he? That was Crusch Karsten standing there. Subaru respected her. Rival camps in the Royal Selection or not, her virtue deserved to be recognized. Crusch was proud and upright, a person of fine character who never slackened in her effort and discipline as a ruler, and when it came to the bearing of a king, she had likely been the first to ever captivate Subaru. When they defeated the White Whale and she acknowledged his achievement with her own words, how much that meant to the life of Natsuki Subaru was something no one could deny, and he would let no one try.
He had put his love for Emilia first. But in that moment, Subaru had truly believed it. That Crusch Karsten was, without question, one of those worthy of being king of the Kingdom of Lugunica.
"—Please, stop this, Crusch!"
And so the card Subaru managed to play there could only be called the most spineless one he had.
"—"
Crusch, locked in a fierce exchange of blows, did not answer Subaru's cracking plea. Her gaze was fixed squarely on Tiga in front of her. Still, believing she couldn't ignore him, Subaru raised his voice.
"Put down your sword! Please! I don't know what we're supposed to do! I don't, but I'll talk too! I'll try talking so it works out somehow!"
At some point, the hand Beatrice wasn't holding had clenched tight, so tight, around the black orb hanging at his neck. —With Al, he had been left unable to say so much of what needed saying, with no choice but to force his will into silence. And Priscilla's death, the trigger that had driven Al to his rampage, had carved into Subaru the weight of absolute loss, of something gone that could never be brought back.
He might lose someone he knew without ever getting the chance to talk. —For Natsuki Subaru as he was now, that was far more terrifying than his own death.
"I don't want it to end like this! Like this... not understanding any of it, I don't want to be torn away from the people I care about!"
"Subaru..."
"Please! Please! I'm begging you... please... just stop..."
He could see Beatrice watching his profile as he forced the words out, her eyes wavering, biting her lip. Just how anguished did his face look as he begged? Pathetic. Shameful. He was the partner of the Great Spirit Beatrice, and he couldn't put her brilliant, capable power to any use at all. All he could do was bawl like this.
"Please..."
Even knowing how powerless he was, Subaru couldn't choose. If he couldn't run, then fight Crusch: he couldn't bring himself to think in terms that cut-and-dried. There had been times before when his relationship with someone changed drastically after they first met. But most of those had meant a bad impression turning into a good one. The reverse had only ever happened with two people, Todd and Al. Adding Crusch to that list was more than he could possibly bear.
"—"
Subaru's clumsy, halting plea was thin enough to be drowned out by the ever-fiercer clash of blades. Thin enough, perhaps, to be given as little weight as Subaru's presence in this fight, and never reach Crusch's ears at all. But—
"It seems there is no lie in your words."
"—!"
At that murmur, which sounded almost convinced, Subaru's eyes flew wide. With Tiga caught squarely between them, his gaze met Crusch's past the unorthodox swordsman, and she was looking back at him. Facing that amber eye, Subaru let himself hope his words had gotten through—
"Then I shall set you aside for the time being."
—In that instant, a violent wind swept through the room, with Crusch, who had just spoken, at its center.
"Wha—"
The moment pressure bore down on his whole body, his feet left the floor, and Subaru knew by instinct that it was a wind Crusch had raised: her signature sword technique, One Blow, One Hundred Felled, unleashed in every direction with no fixed aim. That colossal blade of wind, meant to be released bundled into a single direction, had been spread out to all sides instead, and the blast it produced shook the battle-wrecked study without mercy, flinging up thick books, neatly ordered documents, even the body of the dead old sage. But that was as far as Subaru managed to follow what was happening.
"Gah—!"
His defenseless, airborne body slammed into the ceiling with ferocious force, knocking the breath out of him. On reflex he pulled in his arms and clutched Beatrice to his chest to protect her, but that was all he could do. Holding her tight as she cried "Subaru!", he was carried along by the wind, smashed against a wall, and dumped on the floor in a graceless heap, unable even to break his fall.
"—Ngh."
Pain wrenched every inch of him, the last breath spilled from his lungs, and he felt the back of his head go cold, draining away. He knew instinctively that this was bad. This wasn't "Death." But his consciousness was slipping. This was what he got for putting Beatrice's safety so far ahead of his own. As if a hole had opened in the head he'd struck, his awareness was leaking out through it. Bad. Bad. Bad.
"No... can't..."
If he passed out now, who would get through to Crusch? Tiga didn't know. He didn't know what Crusch was like, didn't know she was truly good at heart. He had it wrong. Had to stop this. Crusch was a good person. Talk to her and she'd understand. If they just talked, she would understand.
"...she'll... under... stand..."
So please, I'm begging you, don't close your ears to what I'm saying. Praying for that to the very last as his mind slipped away, Subaru's consciousness sank, with a soft plunk, into darkness.
Sank, and—
△▼△▼△▼△
"—It was."
"—"
The instant he abruptly came to, Subaru nearly lost his balance. His brain couldn't reconcile the self of a moment ago with the self he had been switched to in an instant, and the mismatch ran down into his limbs and threw them into a panic.
His feet were on the ground. Obviously: he was standing. Standing. Obviously. Was it, though? Had standing been the obvious state? It hadn't, which was why he felt right now as if heaven and earth had flipped over—
"No."
What Subaru needed to focus on wasn't heaven and earth flipping over. It was why he felt they had. And the reason went without saying. He had gone back in time.
"—"
His knees nearly giving out, Subaru took in the study of the McMahon Mansion before it had been torn apart, and Miklotov's body cradled in the flag cut diagonally in two. In front of the body stood a green-haired woman, half turned to look back, and the back of a young man who had stepped half a pace ahead of Subaru. Crusch and Tiga, facing off. And this exchange had come at the moment—
"Those connected to this mansion, and Miklotov McMahon, I cut down with my own hand. These people were traitors who meant the kingdom harm."
It was the moment she had given her fatal, irreversible yes to the question.
"—That would be you, Duchess!"
As Subaru's blood ran cold with shock, Tiga let out a fierce cry and leapt in. With his Shamshir held in a reverse grip, Tiga began his sword dance, and Crusch met it head-on: a clash between two swordsmen, one walking the crooked path and one the straight. Watching the battle in the study, the chain of ringing steel and the scattering sparks whirling through the room, Subaru nearly reeled with a dizziness that had nothing to do with the balance he'd fought to keep a moment ago.
"No way, that's insane..."
He pressed a hand to his mouth, and a stifled voice slipped out. The shock was as impossible to stop as blood seeping from a wound, and it felt like it was pounding against the inside of his skull.
—Return by Death. He had Returned by Death.
Just before he lost consciousness, what had sent Subaru flying was the wind Crusch had raised. It had slammed him into the walls and ceiling, thrown him to the floor, and knocked him out. And if Subaru had come back to this exact moment after that, then he had Returned by Death without ever waking up.
If the unconscious Subaru's life had been taken in that situation, then the one who had done it was—
"—Subaru! Pull yourself together, I suppose!"
"—!"
"Being in shock is only natural, in fact. But you can't just stand there dazed, I suppose!"
Subaru had frozen for a different reason than before, and Beatrice brought him back to his senses the same way she had before. Her small palm struck his cheek, and the sting and heat of it snapped him out of it.
"Sorry, Beatrice."
Rubbing the slapped cheek with the back of his hand, Subaru ground his teeth until they creaked. Even with a Death in between, his confusion and turmoil over all this hadn't faded one bit. Still, denying what had happened, screaming that he wouldn't accept it, would change nothing. Without finding the courage to step into Crusch and Tiga's fight, Subaru would blubber pathetically and die. He would make Crusch's hand be the one that snuffed out his life.
"No."
He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Crusch Karsten take Natsuki Subaru's life. He couldn't let his own weakness drag her nobility through the dirt. Crusch's hands must never be stained with Subaru's blood.
"Beako, lend me a hand."
"—! You don't even need to ask, in fact!"
The shock and panic had left the puzzle pieces of his reason scattered everywhere. But from that scattered puzzle, Subaru picked out only the pieces whose shapes he could still see clearly, and squeezed back the hand of his partner, who made him feel nothing but reassured.
The fight unfolding before his eyes, Crusch against Tiga, was evenly matched, a true back-and-forth with neither side giving ground. Knowing Crusch's skill as he did, Subaru wanted to marvel at Tiga for wielding a sword that could rival hers, but as things stood, the fact that Crusch held the decisive card that could break the deadlock, One Blow, One Hundred Felled, put Tiga at a clear disadvantage. Whether Tiga knew that or not, he had chosen to fight up close, and so Crusch wasn't getting time to gather her wind. But Subaru knew from bitter experience that even between exchanges of blows, Crusch was storing up the wind that would turn the tide.
And so—
"Don't rely on magic, My Friend!"
"Can't use it anyway, My Friend!"
Whether that answer was reassuring or not, Subaru couldn't say, but he pulled up his arm and drew Beatrice in against his chest. The two of them, close enough that their cheeks nearly touched, fixed their eyes firmly on the same fight, and—
"—E.M.T!!"
Their voices overlapped, and at once an invisible field spread through the study, centred on Subaru and Beatrice. It was their original technique, what could only be called anti-magic magic: E.M.T, which unravelled any spell built from mana, neutralised it, and robbed it of its effect. Inside this field, not only was casting magic out of the question, but even Metia and magic-crafted tools that ran on mana would malfunction and turn into a soggy mess. According to Beatrice, things were different if someone adapted to the soggy mess and wove their spell around it, though.
"It can easily buy us an opening big enough to smack a startled Roswaal across the face, in fact!"
"And for anyone seeing it for the first time... they won't have a clue what's going on!"
The field's effect swallowed not only Subaru and Beatrice but also the two trading blows, dragging them under its influence. As Tiga had said himself, he used no magic, so E.M.T did nothing to hinder his fighting, but the same could not be said for Crusch, who had been weaving wind as her trump card. She had apparently braced herself at their incantation, waiting to see what was coming, and at the effect the field had on her, she flicked her single eye toward them. —Before his Return by Death, too, Subaru had met Crusch's gaze. The hope he'd held then had been betrayed, and he had lost his life for nothing, but—
"Surrender, Crusch! Your way to win is gone! You can't use One Blow, One Hundred Felled! I won't let you! It's over!"
Painting over the tremor in his voice with bravado, Subaru put on a show of unbending will. He had learned the hard way that no timid, tearful, anguished plea could change reality. What he needed here and now were words with the force to drive his will home to her. And words like that needed a soul poured into them. —Deceive her, deceive yourself, down to the bottom of your heart.
Make her believe Natsuki Subaru was an opponent not worth the price of a fight.
"—"
Subaru's black eyes and Crusch's single amber eye met head-on, each measuring the other's stare. In that moment, blade struck blade once, hard, and the exchange between Crusch and Tiga came to a pause. Tiga, curved sword in hand and standing half-turned, held his position with Subaru and Beatrice shielded behind him.
"So my friend advises. And if I might add, I'd guess that friend of mine was a friend of yours as well... Why not lend him an ear?"
"Tiga..."
"Frankly, I don't have what it takes to strip you of your sword and subdue you without paying for it. If I tried to pin you down, I'd have to be ready to lose some flesh, and at worst, I'd lose my life. That's not what I want, and it's not what the two behind me want either."
As he spoke, Tiga's eyes followed Crusch's every movement without the slightest lapse. Perhaps, from where he stood, he had only gone along with Subaru thinking it would be a stroke of luck if it opened even one crack in her guard. Even so, what Tiga had said was unmistakably Subaru's own intent, broken down so it would sink in more easily.
There was no way Tiga could know what had passed between Subaru and Crusch. If anything, if he knew the talk surrounding the Royal Selection, he ought to have assumed they were rivals from opposing camps. Yet from Subaru's few words and actions here, Tiga had gathered that his relationship with Crusch had never been one of simple rivalry. Subaru would ride on that quick understanding. —He would take Crusch down, no matter what.
Take her down, and then. He would work out everything else from there, so that it all turned out well.
"I—"
"—Minya."
Subaru was all but praying when, in the instant Crusch began to speak, Beatrice raised a hand from within his arms, and a deep violet glow pierced the floor at Crusch's feet. The violet arrow struck just short of her toes, crystallizing the study floor and splitting it with cracks.
"I'd refrain from careless moves, I suppose. Even inside E.M.T, Betty and Subaru are the exception who can still use magic, in fact. Can you handle us too while trading blows with that glib-tongued man, I wonder?"
"I'm hurt by 'glib-tongued man,' but you two can still use your own magic? That's cheating."
"That's the whole concept. But yeah, that's how it is."
Beatrice's warning shot, thrusting their advantage in Crusch's face, had seized the initiative, and Subaru could tell her expression had stiffened slightly. It was the reaction of someone who until now hadn't counted Subaru and Beatrice as a threat, and who had now plainly added them to the list of things to watch. It hurt to be looked at that way. But if she saw them as a threat, so much the better. If the odds were against her, she should be able to make the right call—
"I see."
With that, Crusch swung her sword in a casual motion, tracing an arc through empty air. The move caught him off guard, but she was most likely testing E.M.T's effect. The wind that should have followed the blade never came, and at the failure of One Blow, One Hundred Felled, she nodded. And then—
"—Natsuki Subaru, what is it you fear so?"
Once again, Crusch's question came flying at him. But this time was different from the first. He didn't let bewilderment swallow him; he gritted his teeth and held firm.
"The outcome of the battle? Your own safety, or that of those beside you? The kingdom's future? Or else..."
"—"
"—Or else, my sanity?"
She laid the question out slowly, word by word, as if to make sure every part of it sank in. Even against that, Subaru used every muscle in his face to hold his expression in place. He put on the face of his life, so that not one shred of his weakness or hesitation would reach her.
What had Crusch seen in that face, into which Subaru had poured every ounce of himself? She only parted her thin lips, briefly,
"I see."
was all she murmured.
"Duchess, you've heard our demands. What's your answer?"
A storm of feeling had passed between Subaru and Crusch in that instant, too fleeting for words. As if deliberately ignoring it, Tiga put the question to Crusch again, his voice stern. The tension in it made plain that this was a final ultimatum. With the air growing thick once more with the pressure of his sword, Crusch, standing full in it, looked at Tiga.
"I understand your demands. In these circumstances, with my wind sealed, the disadvantage is mine. Therefore I should surrender. That is your argument."
"...Yeah. From here on, Beako and I are joining in. Your chances of winning are..."
"—Nil? To declare so with certainty is premature, Natsuki Subaru."
Her voice rang out clearly, trampling over Subaru's bluff as she spoke across him, and Crusch slowly raised her left hand, the one not holding the sword. What those slender, white-gloved fingers touched was the large eyepatch covering her left eye. The eyepatch hid much of the left side of her face, covering the part that, by her own account, had still not fully healed, even after the effects of the Dragon's Blood had been treated by the power of the Sacrament Filore used. Watching her slender fingertips hook it and tear it away, Subaru's eyes went wide. Because—
"It is not a sight I care to show for long. —I am a woman as well, you see."
The left eye Crusch had bared as she said it, freed of the patch, was not her own amber. It shone gold. A pupil slit thin as a reptile's, and lines of light running beneath the eye like capillaries. At the sight of them, a single word shot through Subaru's mind like a jolt of electricity.
"—Ah."
He didn't even know if it was right. But looking at Crusch now, at that inhuman golden eye, he'd thought it.
"—"
—That Crusch Karsten's left eye had become a "Dragon's Eye."
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