"We... we passed just like that?"
"I think so."
When the pale radiance of teleportation faded and their consciousness returned, the two young petitioners stepped out of the hall in a daze.
Having clearly left the central tower, the black-haired youth tightened his grip on the identity card in his hand. Feeling the lingering, icy gazes that still swept through the corridors behind him, Natsuki Subaru finally let out a long breath.
I survived.
Though it had been spineless—groveling, humiliating beyond words, not daring even to raise his head properly—throughout the entire audience, including the questioning, he had remained prostrated nearly a hundred meters away in that vast, empty hall.
But it had ended safely.
They had obtained Imperial recognition. They had been temporarily specially appointed by the Imperial military.
From now on, so long as they did not violate the law or oppose Imperial rule, their lives would be fundamentally stable. By completing the military's specially appointed "Guide" tasks, he might even live quite comfortably.
Knowing that his identity as a visitor from another world had already been exposed by the Imperial Army, the black-haired youth slapped his cheeks hard. Then he looked up at the red-haired friend before him, whose expression had dimmed considerably.
"Reinhard, just now... you nearly scared me to death. I thought our heads would be rolling the next second."
Truly.
The moment they went up, he had knelt without hesitation.
Reinhard, however, had maintained his pride. As a knight, he had sought to speak with the Empress—driven by a certain desire for respect and a stubborn insistence upon his dignity.
The Empress had not even acknowledged it.
With a mere flick of her finger, she had suppressed him—forced Reinhard down to his knees, crushed flat against the ground.
Even though he had not been the one bearing it, Natsuki Subaru swore he would never forget that sensation for the rest of his life.
That hollow emptiness in the void—as if the soul were being torn apart and burned to ash. An indescribable terror and awe flooded directly into the framework of his newly forged soul, embedding themselves at the deepest level.
He could not imagine the pressure Reinhard himself had endured.
The faint creaking of bone and flesh he had heard at the time had made him wonder whether every bone and tendon in Reinhard's body had been ground to powder.
"You were reckless," Subaru said quietly. "The premise of being neither servile nor overbearing is that we are already Her subjects. If we want to negotiate, we can do so later—once we're insiders. But as 'three-nothing' natives with no status, no backing, and no value, making our stance clear without reservation was the most important thing."
"Subaru... I'm sorry. I troubled you again. You had to pay the price for my immaturity and stubbornness."
Reinhard's voice sounded much the same as before—only far more fatigued.
"You..."
Subaru opened his mouth, words tumbling about before they ever reached his tongue. All the complaints he had wanted to voice about that sudden incident born of misplaced pride during the audience ultimately turned into a simple pat on the shoulder.
Because he had seen Reinhard's expression.
Gray. Despairing. Lifeless.
As though the very pillar of his spirit had been shattered—like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Yes. He was a knight. A knight among knights. The Sword Saint.
Invincible on the surface—yet the burdens he carried within were unimaginable.
Unlike himself. He only needed to feed one mouth. A "fake" knight.
"I'm fine," Reinhard said at last, his face pale, lips trembling slightly before he steadied himself. "I simply learned what it means that there is always a higher sky, always someone stronger."
"The world's favor. The world's blessings... Even Divine Dragon Volcanica is nothing more than a plaything in the Empress' palm—food upon her plate."
He had exhausted every method he could muster to resist.
But the gap between them had been as vast as that between himself wielding the Dragon Sword and an ordinary man.
No—greater.
A chasm beyond measure.
That deep, abiding sensation of being cherished by the world—of affinity with the mana in the atmosphere—had been stripped away in an instant.
All blessings—including the most important of them, [Blessing of the Sword Saint]—had vanished from him.
The world itself had seemed to reject him. To loathe him.
No language could describe what Reinhard had felt in that moment.
And in that moment, he truly understood the weight of the words "interstellar colonial empire" that Subaru had once spoken.
He understood what it meant to have no hope. No ability.
Especially when he had seen the enormous dragon corpse—disemboweled, carved apart, and served as food within the Empress' palace.
He had completely accepted reality.
The glorious battlefield death he once sought?
It would only have been a one-sided slaughter.
The so-called "strongest Sword Saint" was merely another dish.
The Empire might value him—or it might not. In truth, he was worth less than a single dessert.
Facing such an existence, listening to that cold, unwavering, mercilessly arrogant voice, Reinhard had felt nothing but overwhelming dominance and unquestionable authority.
And it had awakened something within him—a nature that compelled obedience.
So he obeyed.
There was no humiliation.
Because he did not have the right to feel humiliated.
He needed to live.
With his sword, within the boundaries permitted by Imperial law, he would strive to secure more legitimate rights for the people of Lugunica.
"Subaru... if you ever require anything, speak freely. I will do all I can."
"Thanks. Same goes for you," Subaru replied, believing himself to be little more than an add-on.
Having endured hardship together, and as the only two people from Lugunica to receive an audience with the Empress, their friendship had grown deeper and more unshakable.
"After thorns comes smooth ground. Where I'm from, we'd say I'm just the lucky one. You—the so-called child of destiny—you're the real high-potential asset."
"'Child of destiny'... If you mean the blessings I acquired after birth—perhaps."
As the two stepped one after another out of the inner palace gates, exchanging rueful reflections, a soft female voice like silver bells joined their conversation.
"Subaru!"
Outside the grand triumphal arch that served as the entrance to the complex, a silver-haired girl greeted him with a radiant smile.
"Emilia-tan!"
"Subaru... it's all over now, right? According to your reasoning, I safely passed the banquet with those giant warriors. I've been permitted to move freely within Watergate City." She clasped her hands before her chest and nodded happily.
"Mission accomplished. I made it back alive—though it was pretty pathetic along the way."
"Pathetic doesn't matter. As long as everyone's safe, that's enough. If the royal selection falls through, so be it. I just want Subaru back by my side... Ah, Subaru, there's something I need to tell you."
"The blue-haired oni girl named Rem—the one you entrusted to Ram and me—she's awakened. Ram, Wilhelm, Aldebaran, Julius, and the others are being held separately under isolation. Using something called a communicator, Rem said that the first thing she wants after waking up... is to see you."
Hearing Emilia's words, Subaru froze.
Then came overwhelming joy.
He grabbed Emilia's hands in elation, laughing freely, relief flooding through him.
And then—
As though suddenly remembering something, Subaru lowered his gaze to the identity card in his palm, now damp with his own sweat.
The next moment, before Reinhard, Emilia, and the other royal candidates who had come to receive them—Crusch, Felt, and the rest—Natsuki Subaru suddenly turned around.
Facing the chalk-white tower that stood like a holy lance cast down from the heavens, he dropped to both knees with solemn reverence.
His hands spread forward upon the ground in an inward V-shape. He leaned down, upper body lowering until his forehead struck the earth with a heavy thud.
A perfect dogeza.
"Thank you—!"
This time, it came from the depths of his heart.
...
Thud... Thud...
"Tempered by Return by Death, his mentality has matured. As a visitor from another world, his perspective is not confined. In terms of ability, the various calamities he experienced after arriving here have forced his growth—his initiative, self-control, and conduct all rank among the best. His greatest shortcoming lies in personal combat strength..."
"And individual combat strength happens to be precisely what the Empire's recruit training camps excel at refining and elevating."
"His future is promising."
Wiping the corner of her mouth and setting down her knife and fork, Selene rested her chin upon her hand, tapping the edge of the table lightly with a finger. Her bewitching crimson gaze watched with a faint smile as Divine Dragon Volcanica's existence gradually vanished beneath the dismantling hands of the Astartes chefs.
Natsuki Subaru's actions had naturally not escaped her notice.
With Subaru's current maturity and adaptability, it was not difficult for him to deduce that Rem—who had been attacked by the Archbishop of [Gluttony] during the White Whale subjugation, her name and memories devoured, left in an endless sleep—had awakened because the Imperial Army had eradicated the Witch Cult.
Whether his kowtow of gratitude was entirely sincere, or carried a trace of calculated benefit, mattered little.
Judge by deeds, not by heart.
The effect was truly killing three birds with one stone.
He expressed his joy and gratitude.
He reaffirmed his loyalty to the Empress.
And as for the result—look at the gazes of those military operatives within the palace.
Though still measured and indifferent, much of the hostile vigilance had dissipated. In its place was the look reserved for a prospective Imperial citizen—perhaps even a future colleague within the auxiliary legions.
As for despising him for being servile or flattering?
Nonsense.
When kneeling before the Empress, everyone looked the same. Who was not flattering in that moment?
"He may be better suited to enter the civil administration," Leiva remarked, stroking his small mustache.
Selene neither agreed nor disagreed, merely murmuring, "The King of Purge. The Archbishop of Pride... Those were once his possible futures. But without Return by Death, with his family and friends intact—what path will you walk now? I look forward to it."
Swish.
Before her words had fully settled, a graceful figure clad in white armor appeared in a ripple of space.
The gray-haired beauty bowed lightly to Selene's languid posture, then sat without excessive ceremony at the lower seat, curiosity gleaming in her blue eyes.
"Your Majesty, what are you discussing?"
"Nothing much. Leiva and I were discussing who has greater potential. Alyssa, you couldn't even sit still for such a rare full-dragon banquet, running off to eradicate the Witch Cult... Ah, you're a dragon yourself. No wonder... Cough. Tomorrow we'll have a Sacred Beast banquet. By the way, did you capture those two vermin?"
"Of course."
The gray-haired, blue-eyed girl paid no mind to her Empress' dreadful dragon-eating behavior. With a casual gesture, she tore open a ripple in space.
Rip—Bang! Bang!
A tall man and a petite woman were dragged out from the spatial distortion and slammed heavily onto the ground.
One of them possessed such a small, delicate frame that one might worry a strong gust of wind could carry her away.
Her body was wrapped only in a strip of white cloth. Her once crystalline platinum hair hung wet and matted against her face. Her deep-blue eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was cracked and parched.
Scorched fissures from high-temperature electric shocks covered her body. Portions of facial tissue had carbonized. Flesh suppurated, oozing grease-like fluids.
Even if she had once been beautiful, that was now irrelevant.
Besides, those present were hardly soft-hearted.
Once confirmed as members of an evil cult, beauty or ugliness made no difference. Eradication meant eradication.
Beside her lay a mutilated humanoid figure, wounds crisscrossing his body. His strange half-purple, half-white garments had fused with his flesh under intense heat. Not a single patch of skin remained intact. His scalp had been burned bare, covered in grotesque scars.
Selene regarded the two remnants of the Witch Cult with interest. From them, she tasted the flavors of "Vainglory" and "Melancholy."
[Witch of Vainglory] Pandora.
[Warlock of Melancholy] Hector.
Beyond the seven Witches of Sin, these were hidden sins preserved in history—and the only two remaining.
Hector was difficult to judge—mad and erratic.
Pandora, however, had been the true manipulator behind the Witch Cult.
The very head of the heretical cult as defined by the Sacred Selene Empire.
Over a century ago, when the Witch Cult still possessed a moderate faction, it had been she who drove its leader—Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti, not yet insane at the time—into madness.
It was she who had extinguished the last fragment of anything socially beneficial within the Witch Cult.
"...Dispose of them."
Selene waved a hand, uninterested.
What was the point of keeping them? To mix them into rice?
Take them away. Behead, dismember, burn, and display.
"Yes!"
Without giving the witch and warlock any chance to regain consciousness and speak, the Black Templars soldiers stepped forward. Shackles, injections, impalement—completed in seamless succession.
Then they dragged the two toward the execution platform beneath the tower.
Having eaten and drunk her fill, Selene cast a glance at the remaining half of the dragon bones and meat. With casual indifference, she instructed Leiva to distribute them among the Black Templars officers on duty within Watergate City.
Once that was settled, the table was cleared and reset with fruits and desserts.
Leaning back against the cushions of her throne, Selene gazed upward through the magnificent, star-crystal-like dome skylight toward the heavens.
The world's primordial starry sky.
There, countless glowing threads had once intertwined.
Selene could see the innumerable strings of fate.
There was Natsuki Subaru's.
Reinhard's.
The royal candidates, the lords and sovereigns of various nations, and the countless masses of common people.
Each possessed branching lines beyond counting—threads that magic and blessings could glimpse, even alter.
And now, beneath the unstoppable erosion of violet-red Honkai particles, those threads were being contaminated, severed—
Then erased entirely into nothingness.
"Fate does not require choice. And if a choice must be made, the one who makes it can only be me."
Selene was selfish.
Powers and magic that toyed freely with time, space-time, or death—abilities that would only increase her workload—would all be erased and rewritten once her Honkai-consciousness replaced the world's primordial will.
Within the dimension of Honkai, she placed no restriction upon mortals wielding spatial manipulation or reality-altering powers.
But in matters of time and life and death, Selene drew a strict line.
Possible—yes.
But the price to be paid would follow the laws of Honkai.
"Leisurely hours have come to an end once more... How brief they are."
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven