Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, who had viewed the previous four-on-one skirmish as little more than an afternoon diversion, suddenly felt the amusement vanish from his lips. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the newcomer on the screen.
The Bowel Hunter, Felt, Emilia, Rom, and even Puck—their displayed power levels, while impressive, still fell within the theoretical parameters of annihilation by a modern Earth military force.
But Reinhard van Astrea was a structural anomaly.
He was striking, his features refined and his voice tempered with a gentle kindness. He radiated a profound, magnanimous warmth. Everything about him signaled a man of impeccable character. Yet, even through a screen and without a shred of malice, Reinhard's presence triggered a primal stress response in Ayanokouji. His muscles tensed; his breathing hitched.
It was a sensation he hadn't felt since his father took him to witness the full might of the American armed forces as a child. In his entire life, only two things had ever made his genetic instincts scream in warning: that suffocating darkness from moments ago, and the man now standing in the loot cellar.
I miscalculated... Ayanokouji admitted silently. I assumed a "master" like Elsa represented the ceiling, and that the top tier wouldn't exceed a tactical nuclear strike. I was too narrow-minded.
In the real world, Elsa Granhiert looked as though she had swallowed glass. "I enjoy clashing with the strong, but I despise being solved like a puzzle. I've heard the tales of the Sword Saint, but to be broken by a casual swing... that isn't a fight. It's an erasure."
[The dust settles. A rhythmic, steady tread echoes—a sound of footsteps that, unlike Elsa's, inspires an immediate sense of safety.]
[Hachiman Hikigaya, despite his perpetually tired eyes, is a sharp-featured young man. But Reinhard, the wildcard who just descended upon the scene, is the blueprint of a perfect knight, a man whose very existence demands admiration.]
["I heard the sounds of combat while on patrol. I hope I haven't interrupted your evening, Lady Emilia."]
["Not at all. Thank you for the assistance, Reinhard. We nearly let her escape."]
["The Bowel Hunter? To think she dared strike at you." Reinhard's eyes flash as he assesses the situation, effortlessly hoisting the unconscious, blood-spattered Elsa. "I shall escort her to the royal dungeons. She will face judgment and remain under the strictest watch."]
[Hachiman steps out from the shadows of the warehouse, his brow furrowed. He hesitates, the words catching in his throat.]
["And who might this be?" Reinhard asks. His voice is devoid of the elitism one might expect from the world's strongest man; his concern is genuine, his warmth unforced.]
["Hachiman. Hachiman Hikigaya. Just consider me a... an opportunist looking to ride Emilia's coattails."]
["What a strange way to put it," Emilia mutters, puzzled.]
[Hachiman ignores the comment, his eyes fixed on the captured assassin. "Forgive me if this sounds out of turn, but is it wise to leave someone that dangerous alive? She and Emilia are beyond reconciliation now. If she ever breaks out... I don't mean to underestimate your dungeons, but you can't watch her twenty-four hours a day. If she gets free, she'll come for Emilia's throat. I'm just saying... what if?"]
[Hachiman knows how he sounds. He's a nobody, a powerless stranger questioning the judgment of a living legend. It's social suicide. But the memory of Emilia's cooling corpse in the previous loop burns in his mind, and he refuses to let it happen again.]
["I understand your concern," Reinhard says, his expression softening into one of profound respect. "Rest assured. I swear upon the name of Van Astrea that Elsa Granhiert shall never again have the opportunity to threaten Lady Emilia."]
[Hachiman is struck by a wave of inexplicable shock.]
[Before him stands a man at the absolute pinnacle of this world—a hero of legends. And yet, this man is looking a status-less, powerless nobody like Hachiman directly in the eye, offering a solemn, ironclad vow as if they were equals. There is no condescension. No mask.]
[Stirring...]
[For the first time since arriving in this world, Hachiman senses the scent of something he has chased his entire life: The Genuine.]
"Oh my god, it's beautiful! I can smell the pheromones! Hachiman x Hayama is trash—Hachiman x Reinhard is the true endgame!"
Ebina's fujoshi shrieks echoed through Sobu High, but she was just one voice among many. The sight of the two men locked in a gaze of mutual respect had launched a thousand ships across multiple worlds.
In reality, both Hachiman and Reinhard shook their heads in a strange, synchronized moment of self-deprecation. One felt he was too much of a "bottom-feeder" to stand beside such a hero; the other felt he was a failure for not arriving in time to save those four lives in the original timeline.
Yukino Yukinoshita: "..."
She suddenly felt like a third wheel in her own life.
[Felt, feeling equally excluded, clears her throat and looks away from the intense eye contact between the two men. She reaches into her tunic and pulls out the jewel. "Here. As promised. Take it. Just don't come looking for me or Rom anymore. And about those twenty coins..."]
["?!"]
[The moment his eyes land on the insignia, Reinhard's composure shatters. In a blur of motion that defies the laws of physics, he is suddenly standing in front of Felt, his hand gripping her wrist with trembling urgency. He begins firing off questions about her age and lineage, his voice thick with emotion. Without another word, he delivers a swift, non-lethal strike to her and Rom, knocking them both unconscious. With a hurried apology to Emilia, he vanishes into the night, carrying the three of them with him.]
["Well... he saw it," Emilia says, letting out a long, weary sigh of relief. "At least it was Reinhard. If anyone else had caught me without my insignia, the scandal would have been the end of me."]
The secret was finally out. The item Felt had stolen was the Dragon Insignia—the proof of a Royal Candidate.
But as the revelation settled, the elite observers of Lugnica caught onto something far more explosive, their whispers quickly spreading to the confused commoners.
"Wait... look at the reaction."
"The insignia glowed in her hand. The age, the features... could it be?"
"A slum thief... is a lost scion of the Royal Family? That's impossible!"
"The Royal Selection just gained a fifth member. The storm is only beginning."
In the real world, Reinhard van Astrea froze for a split second before mirroring his on-screen counterpart. Without a word, he turned and bolted toward the slums, a streak of red light moving at terminal velocity.
A discovery of this magnitude changed everything. There was not a second to lose.