The rain kept falling, and falling, and falling, until it stopped feeling like weather and started feeling like a presence. It pressed against Subaru's skin, soaked into her clothes, slid down her neck in cold, deliberate lines, as if it were testing her patience. The sound of it never softened. It drummed against leaves, dirt, broken stone, the hollow shells of abandoned houses they passed earlier. Every drop felt too loud in the silence between them.
Subaru hated that silence.
She was very uncomfortable with this girl.
Übel walked a few steps ahead and sat and she kept glancing back.
Not quick checks. Not the subtle looks of someone making sure their companion was still there. These were slow, deliberate turns of the head. Lingering looks. Her eyes slid over Subaru with open interest, unashamed, curious in a way that crawled under Subaru's skin.
As a boy, in the past, Subaru would have simped hard.
That thought came uninvited, and it annoyed her almost as much as Übel's staring.
Back then, he would have folded instantly. Green hair, sharp eyes, confidence dripping off her like a challenge. Even though Subaru's type had always been silver-haired elves, preferably with violet eyes, even though he would have sworn up and down that was it, no exceptions, he still knew himself well enough to admit the truth. He would have watched her walk. He would have tried too hard to impress her. He would have laughed at jokes that were not funny and remembered the shape of her smile long after she left.
He would have been doomed.
This Subaru, however, felt something different.
She was attracted, yes. That part was still there, stubborn and undeniable. But the reasons behind it made her stomach twist.
Firstly, Subaru wanted to touch her.
That alone would have been manageable. Easy to dismiss as leftover instinct, as nerves, as proximity. But it did not stop there.
She wanted to bite her.
The thought hit her suddenly, sharp and vivid. Teeth sinking into skin. The warmth of blood. The way flesh would give under pressure. Her mouth filled with saliva before she could stop it, and she swallowed hard, jaw tightening until it ached.
Eat her.
The realization made her take a half step back without meaning to, boots sliding slightly in the mud. She caught herself before Übel could notice, or at least before she could comment on it.
She was not on the verge of losing control. Subaru knew that much. She could still think. Still reason. Still choose. But her new sharp teeth, the ones she had discovered almost by accident, had already tasted human flesh.
That memory lingered like a stain she could not wash away.
It was not hunger in the simple sense. It was not desperation. It was something quieter and worse. A desire that sat patiently in the back of her mind, whispering instead of screaming, waiting for permission instead of forcing itself forward.
And Übel smelled… alive.
Subaru kept her eyes forward. She did not dare look directly at Übel's neck, at the line of her throat exposed by the way her collar clung wetly to her skin. She focused instead on the trees, on the rain, on the way her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides as if they belonged to someone else.
Even so, she could feel it.
Übel's gaze did not leave her.
It was almost playful. Almost amused. Like Übel knew exactly what kind of thoughts she was provoking and found the idea delightful.
"What's your speciality?" Übel suddenly asked.
The question cut cleanly through the rain, casual and sharp all at once.
Subaru flinched despite herself and looked up. Übel had turned fully now. Her smile was small but unsettling, lips curved just enough to suggest there was more behind it than friendliness.
"I don't know," Subaru said after a second. "What specialty?"
Übel tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle that had just become interesting. "Like magic spell. Your spell."
Subaru blinked. For a moment, her mind went blank. Magic spell. Specialty. She had not thought about it like that. Everything she could do still felt wrong, half-formed, like she was borrowing someone else's abilities without understanding the rules.
"Huh," she said intelligently.
The rain filled the gap while she searched for words.
"Well," Subaru continued slowly, choosing each word with care, "I'll tell. Only if you tell yours."
It was a challenge, small and almost childish, but it made Übel's smile widen.
"Hm," Übel hummed, clearly pleased. She tapped a finger against her chin, then shrugged as if the answer cost her nothing. "I can cut through anything as long as I can imagine it. Cach. Cach. Cach."
She mimed slashing motions through the air with her fingers, quick and light, as if demonstrating something simple and harmless.
"Your turn."
Subaru felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain.
This woman…!
She cursed herself internally for asking, for opening the door to that explanation. Only after the words settled did it fully sink in what Übel had said. Cut through anything. As long as she could imagine it. There was no hesitation in her voice, no exaggeration. She said it like someone stating a fact about the weather.
Übel was like Sukuna from JJK.
The comparison sprang up immediately, vivid and alarming. A grin that promised violence. Power that obeyed imagination instead of restraint. Someone who could look at the world and decide it should be sliced open just to see what was inside.
Shit.
Subaru forced herself to breathe evenly. She could feel Übel's attention sharpen, like a blade honing itself on her reaction. She could not show fear. Could not show too much interest either.
"I…" Subaru started, then stopped. Her throat felt dry despite the rain. "I can summon a sword and fight."
The words sounded small the moment they left her mouth. That wasn't the full scope of Erafassen. If what she thinks is correct then…
"That's it?" Übel asked, eyebrows lifting.
"Yeah," Subaru said, a bit more sharply than she intended. "That's it."
Übel hummed again, not disappointed exactly, but not impressed either. She stepped closer, closing the distance until Subaru could smell her something metallic beneath it. Übel's eyes flicked briefly to Subaru's mouth, lingering on her lips, then lower.
"Hm. Sounds exciting," Übel said lightly. "Have you killed anyone before?"
The question landed with a weight that made the world feel suddenly very still.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The rain seemed to soften, or maybe Subaru's ears were ringing. Images flickered through her mind, unwanted and vivid. Blood on her hands. Faces she tried not to remember. The moment when the line between survival and murder blurred until it vanished entirely.
Her jaw tightened. "Why do you ask?"
Übel's smile widened, slow and deliberate, as if this had been exactly the response she was hoping for.
"Because I have,"
The rain drummed steadily against the mouth of the cave, a dull, endless sound that blurred time into something shapeless. Subaru sat with her back against the cold stone, posture loose, expression carefully arranged. She looked relaxed. Almost bored. Anyone watching would have thought she was comfortable here, sharing a cave with a woman whose smile alone radiated danger.
That was the point.
She made sure her shoulders stayed loose, her breathing even. No flinching. No twitching horns under the cloth wrapped around her head. Fear was a language, and Übel was fluent. Subaru had learned that lesson the hard way, across dozens of deaths.
She wasn't afraid of dying.
That was the disturbing part.
Death itself had lost its teeth. Pain still hurt. Terror still came in flashes. But the end of it? The silence after? That was almost… easy. Too easy. She could step into it if she had to. She had done it before. Many times.
What she was afraid of were the loops.
The way the world snapped back into place. The way everything reset except her. The way memories stacked on top of each other until her head felt too small to hold them all. The way despair didn't end, it just rewound.
She could not afford to fight someone whose limits were dictated by imagination.
Her eyes flicked, just for a moment, to Übel's hands. Long fingers. Relaxed. Confident. A mage who didn't chant much. A mage who smiled when she talked about cutting people apart. Subaru had seen enough manga, enough anime, enough stories to recognize the type.
Too free.
Too dangerous.
She swallowed, not outwardly, but inside.
Wait. Isn't my own magic imagination-based?
The thought came uninvited, sharp and unwelcome. Erafassen. The word echoed faintly in her mind, a name that still felt too big for something that belonged to her. A power that let her replicate weapons she had seen, techniques she had seen. Blades that never existed in this world, styles born in fiction, moved by hands that were never meant to hold them.
She hadn't lied to Übel.
But she hadn't told her the truth either.
Not the full scope of it. Not the ugly part where even Subaru didn't know where the ceiling was. How far Erafassen could go. Whether it had a limit at all, or whether the only thing stopping it was her own fractured imagination.
That thought scared her more than Übel did.
So she leaned into arrogance instead.
"I don't kill," Subaru said lightly, as if they were discussing the weather and not murder. She tilted her head, lips curling into something that almost resembled a smirk. "It's a waste of strength."
Übel's eyes sharpened with interest.
Subaru continued, voice steady. "Why burn mana killing a weakling? Dead people don't give anything back. No information. No challenge. No return on investment."
She felt it, the way Übel's attention tightened around her like a wire. Predators recognized other predators. Or at least, they recognized the mask.
"And if you meet someone strong?" Übel asked.
The question was casual. Curious. Dangerous.
Subaru didn't answer right away. She let the silence stretch, just enough to feel deliberate. Just enough to seem confident.
Then she looked straight at Übel.
"Are you strong?" she asked.
The challenge was calculated. It wasn't bravado. It was theater. A line delivered for effect, not truth. Inside, her heart thudded hard enough that she worried Übel might hear it.
For a split second, she wondered if this was how it always went. If this was the moment that would spiral into another loop. Another death. Another reset.
Übel's grin widened.
She cracked her knuckles, the sound sharp in the cave. "Wanna find out?"
The air shifted.
Not magically. Not visibly. But something tightened, like the cave itself had decided to hold its breath. Rain still fell outside, but it felt distant now, muffled, irrelevant. Subaru became acutely aware of her own body. The weight of her limbs. The sharpness of her teeth behind her lips. The way mana sat coiled inside her, restless.
She imagined it, just for a moment.
Blades. Dozens of them. A weapon perfectly suited to cutting through imagination itself. A counter to a woman who could slice anything she could envision. What weapon can do this—
Her pulse spiked.
Stop.
She forced the thought down, buried it beneath layers of restraint. Acting confident was one thing. Escalating was another. She didn't know how Übel's magic interacted with Erafassen. Didn't know if imagination clashed or compounded. Didn't know which of them would break first.
She internally gulped.
Then, deliberately, she sighed.
The sound came out slow. Almost tired.
"No," Subaru said.
The word landed flat. Unexpected.
Übel blinked. "No?"
Subaru leaned her head back against the stone, eyes half-lidded. "No."
A pause.
"You afraid?" Übel asked, tilting her head, curiosity sharpening into something more pointed.
Subaru almost laughed. Almost.
"Not in the mood," she replied.
Übel's smile turned strange. Crooked. "Huh. What would it take to get you in the mood?"
The words slid wrong. Too casual. Too intimate. Subaru's stomach twisted.
Ew. That sounds so wrong.
She grimaced internally. I'm not Goku. I don't live for fights. I don't get stronger from punching my problems until they go away. If anything, fighting was how her problems multiplied.
Outwardly, she kept her expression neutral.
"I've got plans," Subaru said. "Big ones. I'm still thinking about crossing the Northern Plateau."
That got Übel's attention. Subaru could see it in the slight lift of her brows.
"Until then," Subaru went on, "I'm laying low. I'm unregistered, remember? Can't attract attention. Can't afford to."
That part wasn't a lie. Every fight risked witnesses. Every witness risked rumors. And rumors, in this world, turned into silver-haired elves with beams of light and parties that shot first and asked questions never.
She had learned that lesson in blood.
Übel studied her in silence. Her gaze was sharp, invasive, like she was peeling back layers, searching for cracks. Subaru met it head-on, refusing to flinch.
Finally, Übel hummed.
"I see," she said.
Hours passed.
Each felt like it stretched beyond 60 minutes.
The rain did not fade gently. It simply stopped.
One moment it was there, drumming against stone and earth, soaking the world in a gray curtain. The next, silence. Heavy, damp silence, broken only by the distant drip of water sliding off leaves and rock.
Subaru opened her eyes.
Dawn had crept in while she wasn't paying attention. Pale light bled across the horizon, thin and cold, brushing the cave mouth in washed-out gold. The air smelled clean now, wet soil and moss, sharp enough to sting her lungs when she breathed in.
She did not hesitate.
The instant she realized the rain was over, she pushed herself up, shook the stiffness from her limbs, and turned her back on the cave. No stretching. No lingering glances. No goodbyes. Staying any longer felt like tempting fate.
She walked.
Her boots pressed into soft ground, leaving shallow prints that filled slowly with water. Her cloak clung damply to her shoulders. The cloth wrapped around her head stayed firmly in place, hiding the faint pressure of horns beneath it. She adjusted it once, fingers quick and practiced, then dropped her hand as if nothing were wrong.
It was already dawn. Every second mattered.
Behind her, light footsteps followed.
Subaru didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Übel hummed cheerfully as she skipped after her, hands clasped behind her back like they were out on a leisurely morning stroll instead of trekking through wet wilderness with a stranger who had made it very clear she wanted space.
The sound crawled up Subaru's spine.
They walked like that for several minutes. Subaru ahead, eyes forward, pace steady. Übel behind, unbothered, boots splashing lightly through puddles. The distance between them stayed irritatingly consistent, like Übel had calibrated it on purpose.
Subaru clenched her fist.
Ten minutes. Maybe more. Time stretched thin when annoyance crept in.
She let out a long breath through her nose and spoke without looking back. "Stop following me."
Übel's response came instantly, light and sing-song. "I'm not following you. We're just going the same way."
Subaru's eye twitched.
She picked up her pace, steps lengthening, stride sharper. The forest thinned gradually as they went north, trees spaced wider apart, the ground uneven and slick with mud. Subaru navigated it easily, boots splashing, cloak swaying with her movement.
Behind her, Übel's footsteps adjusted just as smoothly.
Subaru walked faster.
So did Übel.
Subaru nearly jogged.
Übel matched her, still humming.
Subaru broke into a run.
So did Übel.
The sound of their footfalls echoed through the trees now, breath fogging faintly in the morning air. Subaru's heart pounded, irritation mixing with something sharper, something closer to panic. She hated this. Hated being mirrored. Hated how easily Übel kept up without sounding winded, without dropping that maddeningly relaxed air.
Enough.
Subaru skidded to a stop so abruptly that mud splashed up her boots.
Übel stopped too, neatly, like she'd been expecting it.
Subaru turned on her, eyes blazing. "Okay. Okay, no. This is too much."
Übel blinked innocently.
"What's your deal?" Subaru snapped. "Huh? Didn't I already say I'm broke?"
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She forced herself not to flare mana, not to let instinct take over. Drawing attention here would be stupid. Dangerous.
"What do you want from me?" Subaru went on, voice sharp, words tumbling faster now that they were out. "Don't tell me you're some kind of weirdo who follows cute girls around just because you can."
The thought made her skin crawl. "Or worse," she added, grimacing, "some creep who likes to mess with people for fun. Taint them or whatever."
Even saying it made her cringe.
Übel stared at her for a second.
Then she pouted.
Actually pouted.
Her lips pushed forward, brows knitting together in exaggerated offense. "Hey," she said, tone wounded. "I was just having some fun."
She tilted her head, green hair slipping over one eye. "Besides, bold of you to think you're… cute."
Subaru stared at her.
For a heartbeat, the tension snapped, replaced by sheer disbelief.
She dragged a hand down her face and sighed. A tired, bone-deep sound. "Alright. Enough games."
Übel's pout melted back into that familiar smile, sharp and curious.
Subaru straightened, shoulders squaring. "Be straight with me."
"Why?" Übel asked immediately. "What if I am not straight?"
Subaru cringed. "Be straightforward,"
"Huh, why?"
The question wasn't hostile. It was curious. Like she genuinely didn't understand why Subaru would want something as boring as honesty.
Subaru met her gaze, unblinking. "Because you're creeping me out."
The words hung between them, heavy and blunt.
"I don't like being followed," Subaru continued. "I don't like being tested. And I really don't like not knowing what someone wants from me. So tell me."
She gestured vaguely between them. "What's your goal?"
For a moment, Übel didn't answer.
The forest around them felt still, as if listening. Birds remained quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold back. Subaru became acutely aware of the space between them, the fact that if Übel attacked now, she would have to react instantly.
Übel's smile sharpened.
Not faded. Softened. Like a knife laid flat instead of pressed to skin.
"I just want to understand you," she said.
Her voice was calm. Almost gentle. Yet her smile was sharp.
And that, more than anything else she had said or done, made Subaru's stomach twist.
Was she stuck in something worse than loops?
───✧───
The room inside the church smelled of old wood, incense, and damp stone.
Sein had rolled up his sleeves without a word. His priestly robes were stained now, not just from the quicksand earlier but from sweat and traces of blood. Stark lay on the table before him, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. Every inhale looked like it scraped his lungs raw. His red hair was plastered to his forehead, his skin pale beneath a sheen of fever.
Sein had seen wounds before. War wounds. Monster wounds. Demon wounds.
This was different.
He pressed his fingers lightly near one of the stab sites, careful not to apply pressure. Stark flinched instantly, a low sound tearing from his throat before he could stop it. Sein withdrew his hand at once.
The wounds were deliberate. That much was obvious.
They were placed where they would hurt the most without killing him outright. Not deep enough to sever vital organs. Not shallow enough to be ignored. Each cut had been measured, spaced, and angled with cruel precision. Whoever had done this knew anatomy well enough to dance along the edge of death and never cross it.
Sein closed his eyes and murmured a prayer, golden light blooming softly around his palms as he channeled divine healing. The glow touched Stark's skin.
Nothing happened.
The light slid over the wounds like water over glass, refusing to sink in.
Sein frowned and tried again, this time adjusting the flow, thinning it, coaxing it to seep deeper. The glow dimmed, concentrated.
Still nothing.
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing, senses reaching beyond the physical. Mana pulsed faintly around the wounds, but it was wrong. Twisted. Not unstable, not spreading, not decaying further. It simply existed, embedded into Stark's flesh like a foreign organ.
Mana, yes. But altered.
Corrupted in a careful way.
"Damn it," Sein muttered under his breath.
He reached for herbs next, crushing them with practiced motions, applying poultices that should have soothed pain and accelerated healing. The herbs darkened, lost their potency the moment they touched Stark's skin, as if the mana embedded there rejected anything that tried to interfere.
Stitching was useless. The flesh resisted thread like it was already scar tissue, stiff and unyielding.
Normal healing did nothing.
Divine miracles did nothing.
There was no worsening either. No rot. No spreading curse. No fever from infection. The wounds simply stayed exactly as they were, locked in place, eternally fresh.
Sein straightened slowly, breath heavy.
He could try more. He could exhaust himself searching for some loophole, some technique buried deep in scripture or half-forgotten medical theory. But he knew better.
Anything else would only waste time.
Time Stark did not have.
He glanced toward the door. He could feel it even from here, the weight of expectation pressing from the other side. Fern's anxious silence. Frieren's stillness, more tense than she let on.
Sein wiped his hands on a cloth, then stepped away from the table.
"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, not sure if Stark could hear him.
He left the room.
The door creaked softly as it opened, and Fern looked up at once. Her violet eyes were wide, hands clenched tightly in front of her robes.
"How is Stark-sama?" she asked immediately, voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed.
Sein did not sugarcoat it.
"He's alive," he said. "But I can't heal him."
Fern froze.
"What… do you mean?"
Sein ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "The wounds were made to cause pain, not death. The mana used is corrupted, but stable. It doesn't worsen and it doesn't allow healing. Stitching fails. Herbs fail. Divine healing fails."
Fern's lips parted slightly. "Then… then what can we do?"
Sein hesitated, then spoke the truth. "If even I can't understand this mana well enough to interact with it, then there is only one person who might."
Frieren lifted her head at once.
"Who?" Fern asked.
Frieren did not wait for Sein to answer. She turned and walked back into the room.
She stood beside Stark's bed, silver hair catching the dim light filtering through the church windows. Her green eyes studied him carefully, not just his wounds but the faint traces of mana lingering around them. Her expression was calm, but her silence stretched longer than usual.
Fern followed her in, stopping a step behind.
Frieren spoke at last. "The Last Mage from the Mythical Era. Serie."
Fern's breath caught. "Your master's master?"
"Yes."
The name carried weight. Even the church seemed to hold its breath around it.
Frieren turned back toward the door, already reaching for her staff. "Get ready."
Fern straightened instantly, fear and resolve mixing in her eyes. "Where are we going?"
Frieren looked outside the window. The decision was final.
"We're going North," she said.