Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"July 6, 1993, 0600 EDT.
The U.S. military is blocking roads in the Kentucky area known as “Knox Country.” No reason has been given. The blocked areas include Muldraugh, West Point, Brandenburg, and Fort Knox itself.

July 11, 1993, 1330 EDT.
The World Health Organization recommends that all non-military or medical flights worldwide be grounded from 18:00 onward.
This decision is being criticized by airlines, but all claim they will comply with this advice.

July 14, 1993, 1500 EDT.
Despite intense shelling, a large number of infected individuals—drawn by the sounds of fighting—are reaching the exclusion zone’s border fence.
There are minor breaches in the fence.

July 15, 1993, 1600 EDT.
An increasing number of reports are emerging of “Knox virus” symptoms among military personnel and survivors from the Boundary camp who avoided being bitten.

Knox Event live: July 15, 1993, 1800 EDT.
The first carriers of the “airborne strain” of the Knox infection are dying and “turning.”
Many are already in Louisville or across the Ohio River.
At least 95% of the camp survivors and military personnel in the Zone are sick.
Hasty quarantines.
Summary executions.

Knox Event live: July 16, 1993, 0500 EDT.
The White House issues a “Don’t Panic” advisory, urging the public to remain indoors.
The President’s location is unknown.

Knox Event live: July 16, 1993, 1000 EDT.
Most of Louisville’s population is now afflicted with Knox disease.
Thousands are “turning” every hour.
Hospitals are overcrowded.

Knox Event live: July 16, 1993, 1200 EDT.
Bridges over the Ohio River are destroyed by the military.
Hundreds of civilians are killed.

Knox Event live: July 16, 1993, 1415 EDT.
The British Queen decides to remain at Windsor Castle, while the royal family evacuates to an undisclosed location.

Knox Event live: July 17, 1993, 0830 EDT.
Knox disease confirmed in Cincinnati and Columbus, Ohio;
Newcastle and London, England;
Seoul, South Korea;
Okinawa, Japan.

Knox Event live: July 17, 1993, 1200 EDT.
A recording of General McGrew’s broadcast is transmitted nationwide to the few resistant to the “second wave” of the Knox disease event.
He states that these are “dark days,” but we will prevail.
The broadcast is repeated in subsequent days.

Knox Event live: <bzzt>... July 18, 1993, 0830 EDT.
<fzzt> ...confirmed in New Orleans.
New York.
Los Angeles.
Berlin.
Tokyo...
<bzzt>

Knox Event live: <bzzt> ... the Liège forts for the first time... <fzzt> ...World War II...

Knox Event live: <bzzt> ... July 18, 1993, 1400 EDT.
Most American... <fzzt> ... cease or are being replaced by emergency broadcasts...
<bzzt>

Knox Event live: <fzzt> ... attempt by York to secu-... <bzzt> -Islan-... Iker’s <fzzt>
<bzzt>

Knox Event live: <fzzt> ... the Australian Prime Minister appears visibly ill during... <bzzt>
<bzzt>

Knox Event live: <fzzt>... 0915 EDT.
North Korea is destroying bridges and blocking roads connecting it with...
<bzzt>

Knox Event live: <fzzt> ... Gezira, Rodah Island, Qorsa... <bzzt>
<bzzt> Small gr-... <bzzt> ... immune survivors rem-... <fzzt>

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Dear brothers and sisters in faith,

In these days of darkness and trial, when the world we once knew seems to be falling apart before our eyes, I wish to offer you words of hope and comfort. Although the shadows of death lie upon our land, let us remember that Christ is the Light that never fades. In His mercy, let us find strength. Do not lose faith, for even in the darkest hour, God is with us.

I want you to know that the Vatican remains united in prayer with each and every one of you. You are not alone. The entire Church is praying for humanity, for the sick, for those who fight, and for those who have already departed. I ask you, despite your fear, to hold on to your humanity. Help one another. Do not allow evil and despair to conquer your hearts.

[In the background, increasingly louder cries and sounds of chaos can be heard]

Remember that love is stronger than death. Our suffering is not the end. It is… it is a passage.

[A distant thud, quick footsteps, tension in the Pope’s voice]

Brothers… do not be afraid… God… God will not abandon us…

[Screams. Violent blows. Terrified voices of clergymen. A struggle. A sudden, piercing scream. Hissing, crackling. Silence.]

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[The broadcast is interrupted.]

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July 23 – the Vatican was lost…

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[The transmission begins with crackling and static, followed by the trembling, weary voice of a man]
Here... this is the southern outpost. I don't know if anyone is receiving this. I don't know if there's anyone out there... But if there is, I want you to know... We're still fighting. We're here. There are four of us.
Please... if you can hear this... You are not alone. We've already survived for weeks. I know the world is over, but we're still breathing. We still have hope...
[In the background, the quiet sobbing of a woman and the shuffling of shoes can be heard]
We have some water, a few cans of food. If anyone can... if anyone... [the voice breaks] I beg you, don't give up...
[The sound of a distant bang on a door, tension rising. A woman softly says: “They're here”]
No... Not now... Not so close... [whispers the man]
[The noise grows louder, the banging becomes more forceful. Cries, sobbing, someone pleading for help can be heard]
No! Please! No!
[The cries turn into horrifying screams, the sound of a struggle, noises of biting and tearing flesh. The transmission becomes chaotic, filled with crackles and screams of agony]
[The final voice, barely audible, a whisper: “Don't leave us...”]
[The transmission suddenly cuts off, leaving only the static of the airwaves]
…
"It doesn't matter what they say in the news and no matter what you believe! I was right! It's the fault of the ancient aliens! They implanted in our brains that self-destructive system that this wretched, damned government of the United States of America activated! You may laugh at my theory, but each one of you will admit it! That 'thing' out there isn’t made up of mere mortals!"
…
…
[The recording resumes; heavy breathing and the hum of laboratory equipment can be heard]
Day... I don't know what day it is. I've lost count. This is Doctor... it doesn't matter. If anyone finds this... you must know the truth.
The Knox virus... it's more than an infection. It's something... that we don't understand. The mutations are progressing at a pace we never anticipated. Dead tissue not only comes back to life – it evolves. Cells exhibit adaptive traits, as if... as if they have their own will.
We've tried everything. Antibiotics, serums, incineration... Nothing works. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone... everyone...
[A moment of silence, muffled sobbing can be heard]
This is the end. We have no more supplies. The last team left the facility yesterday. They're dead. I heard their screams. Now I'm alone.
If anyone hears this... Don't make our mistakes. Don't search for a cure. This isn't a disease. It's... a punishment. A punishment for our hubris.
They're already here. I can hear them...
[Metallic banging on the door, muffled growls]
I'll make sure... they don't get me first...
[Sound of a weapon being unholstered, breathing quickens]
[Gunshot.]
[Silence.]
[The recording ends.]

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Global research around the world is focused on finding a cure...

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Japan
Over 10,000 fatalities confirmed…
The Prime Minister has declared a state of emergency, which involves restrictions on movement throughout the country…
Hundreds… thousands of bodies were found in the streets…
Kyoto has been lost, I repeat, Kyoto has been lost…
In Hokkaido, a state of emergency has been declared…
All residents must report to pick up gas masks…
"You’ve all gone insane! How long do you think these gas masks will help us, huh?! They can’t filter the air of the virus—it’s only a matter of time before the oxygen tank supplies run out and we all die…"
"Confirmed: gas masks do not protect against the virus! I repeat! Gas masks do not protect against the virus!"

Riots have been ongoing for the fifth day; the Emperor is appealing for calm and a return to work…
Osaka has been lost…
The Imperial Palace is under siege…
Gangs of thugs and the Yakuza are terrorizing the streets of the cities…
A nationwide order has been issued for the entire military and all uniformed forces, loyal to the homeland, to “shoot without warning”…
The government is calling on every citizen who is resistant to the airborne virus strain to immediately report to government facilities, where, under the supervision of scientists, a cure may be reproduced…
"Bullshit! It’s not possible! It could never have worked! This resistance is encoded in our genes! Our genes! Over half the country is already overrun by the virus, and we have too little time to conduct research and initial tests…"

The government has authorized human testing…
The government has authorized forced labor…
The government has authorized mass executions…
Food supplies are limited…
Hospitals have been bombed…
Cities have been declared enemy territory…
Nationwide protests and outbreaks of fighting between the military and insurgents…
Infections have been confirmed in the quarantine zone…
…
…
"Gods, have mercy…"
…
The remnants of the army are retreating to the ocean…
90% of the population is infected…
…
…
…
Lost contact with the Navy…
Lost contact with the Imperial Bunker…
Lost contact with the Security Forces…
Total loss of contact with the outside world…

July 28…

"If anyone is listening, this is the final radio transmission… survive at all costs. I am the last surviving representative of the government…

"Ugh!"

"And unfortunately, I’m not as lucky as you fortunate bastards… why did this have to happen? What on earth did we do to deserve such a punishment?"
"Therefore, by my command, I beg you, rebuild the country…"
"Keep us all in your care…"
"I can hear them…"
"They're coming…"

***

“D-dad, what do you mean?” – asked the young man slowly, his short dark hair and rather intimidating gaze visible. He wore a plain tracksuit hoodie, and in his right hand he clutched a bloodstained hammer…

“My son, hold onto that weapon!” – shouted his father as he handed him a revolver and a pack of ammunition. “We don’t have time!”

“Here, you’ve got a bag with a week’s worth of food supplies!” – his mother said as she handed him a bag filled with food. “Inside you’ll also find bandages and medicine…”

“B-but…” the boy stammered, trying to comprehend the situation. “I—I killed a man…”

“He was already infected, son…” the father replied, swallowing bitterly as he closed his eyes. “And we are too…”

“No!” the boy cried out in denial, shaking his head. “They said that this resistance is genetic…”

“Natsuki, you know exactly what the word ‘truth’ means,” his father snapped bitterly. “Genetic… it’s a damn lottery of genes.” He sighed. “It matters little…” he shook his head. “You have to save yourself. The district will be lost—in a week, everyone will transform…”

“B-b-but what about you?”

“We’ll manage!” his father shouted, though slowly catching his breath. “We’ll manage…”

“We’re out of oxygen tank supplies…” he said, glancing at them. “W-we can go together! I’ll find some gas masks and oxygen tanks somewhere…”

“It’s our turn now…” his mother said, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder. “You have to survive…”

“B-but…” the son began to cry, tears streaming from his tired eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Go!” his father cried, embracing him along with his mother. “Your mom and I don’t stand a chance like you do…”

“Ugh! Ugh!” his mother coughed into her hand, leaving a streak of red. “T-truly, my dear son… forgive me for leaving you alone…”

“But what if…”

“We’ll see to it,” both parents murmured slowly, nodding with pain in their eyes.

“We’ll do it… we won’t let you join those monsters…” his father managed to choke out, clenching his fists. “But you must run—the district isn’t safe. The military left it long ago…” he said, tears in his eyes as he looked at his beloved son. “You must live…”

“O-okay.” the son nodded, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he stared at the revolver.

“I love you both so much…” he said, his heart heavy as he looked at them.

“We love you too, son, we do…” his mother wept bitterly, covering her face with her hands.

“You’ll make it, remember—avoid shopping centers and any large gatherings of people,” his father added, sniffing. “Now go, while the streets are still clear.”

***

“Oh? Look, Big Brother, what’s this delicious meat?” asked a petite blonde girl as she eyed the tied-up prisoner. She was a rather young girl with long hair, dressed in a pink jacket and a short skirt. On her head she even sported two cat ears, and at the back—a cat tail… obviously fake. “Another blessed one…”

“Fuck off…” mumbled the young man tied to a chair, a bruise on his forehead. He was wearing a dirty shirt and a ragged leather jacket…

“And very proud…” snorted the blonde next to her. He was taller than the girl, with short hair tied in a ponytail, dressed in a denim jacket and a dark t-shirt. A hunting rifle rested on his back, and he wore plain rectangular glasses on his nose. “It was obvious at first glance that you were related. Now, the question is, what are we going to do with you?”

“Can we think about it later?” the girl moaned as she pressed herself against her brother, kissing his neck. “I can already feel my time coming…”

“Yes,” he replied confidently, nodding as he kissed his sister on the lips. “It’s time for our lineage to survive…”

“You’re disgusting perverts,” spat a dark-haired young man to the side. “Do you really want to become the new founders of humanity? Your brats will be too impaired!”

“We know,” they both replied with a smile.

***

“So, Yuki, what do you think? Is there anyone else left on this cargo ship?” yawned a dark-haired man wearing a plain t-shirt and a cowboy hat. Strapped to his back was a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun. He also sported shorts with a Hawaiian floral pattern…

“Oh, don’t complain, Baru!” giggled a rather athletic girl with short dark hair and striking blue eyes beside him. Dressed in a simple tank top and shorts, with her hoodie tied around her waist and a light backpack adorned with a seal plush, she added, “This is going to be an adventure! Who knows what valuables they were hauling on this ship…”

“New Lamborghinis for the collection?” the man teased, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Baru!” Yuki moaned, playfully patting him on the shoulder. “It could be something other than your huge car collection! Boy, you already have like 200 cars!”

“Exactly 210 cars,” the man replied proudly with a smile. “I even managed to snag a car that belonged to the Prime Minister himself…”

“And what? Did it come with a decree canceling the apocalypse in the trunk?” Yuki laughed, adjusting her backpack.

The man shrugged. “Unfortunately not—just a stock of whisky and some cigars. But it’s a first-class car. Bulletproof windows, four-wheel drive, and there’s even a pistol in the glove compartment. Feels like I won the lottery.”

Yuki shook her head, smiling to herself. “One day these cars will be your downfall, you’ll see.”

“Maybe… but at least I’ll die in a stylish ride,” he quipped, pulling his hat further down over his forehead. He glanced at the rusting cargo ship moored at the ruined dock. Against the backdrop of a bright, almost cloudless sky, the steel silhouette resembled a sleeping monster.

“Alright, time to get moving,” he said as he adjusted the belt holding his holster. “Here’s the plan: I drive, and you cover me. If something moves, we give a single warning, then shoot. No splitting up, got it?”

“As always, Captain,” Yuki replied, saluting playfully with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, and that’s why I love you, my little rose,” he said tenderly.

“And I love you, my knight,” she murmured, kissing him on the lips.

***

July 28, 2003.
Subaru was calmly strolling through the dead, deserted city…
You might ask, “Dead?” Subaru himself would like to know why only “he” was lucky enough not to get killed… in all of Japan?

“So much death…” he murmured slowly as he gazed at the ruins of the city. Subaru was already an old man—nearly thirty…
Clad in an old military uniform (stolen from an abandoned army camp), dark, sturdy pants, and proper military boots, he carried on his back every possession he had gathered since the outbreak of the Knox virus epidemic… roughly… 10 years?

“Damn…” Subaru chuckled as he looked around the quiet streets of the great metropolis.
“I remember when, as a kid, these streets were alive and full of people…” he sighed, massaging his temple. “Was it 1991? Or maybe 1993, when it all started?” he sighed again, readjusting his backpack. “Yeah… too much time has passed.”
“Hra!!!”

“Oh? Good day, Mr. Taruki?”
Subaru smiled at the withered, almost-dead corpse—correction, the living corpse. Whatever remained of the man, he was dressed in yellowed clothes, a dirty T-shirt, dark shorts, and, surprisingly, still wore a baseball cap.

“Tell me, how’s your health?” Subaru sighed as he approached the infected man whose legs were trapped beneath a pile of bricks and concrete.
“Back in the same store again, huh?” Subaru murmured, gazing at the ruined grocery shop. He remembered well when he was just 17—back then, he had wanted to buy something to eat, a packet of chips and some instant Chinese soup.
Fuck, how much I’d give to eat a packet of those delicious potato chips with green onion flavor…
Yum…

“You know what, Mr. Taruki…” he said, looking at the dead man who kept trying in vain to grab him. In his lifeless, glazed eyes, no trace remained of the man he once was…

“You were my first.”
He crouched closer to Subaru and drew a revolver—one of the few mementos of his father.
“You were my first contact with that virus, you know?” he sighed as he swung open the cylinder of the revolver.
“Two rounds, right?” he snorted.
“Who would have thought this is how the world would end?”

“So much pain…” Subaru murmured, glancing at the heaps of burned-out cars and the trees growing out of the cracked asphalt.
“So much blood…” he continued, staring at the wounds on the undead’s body.
“It must have hurt pretty bad when the infected tore your chest open, huh?” he said, waving the revolver to point at the obvious hole in the shirt, very close to where the heart should be.
“An undead without a heart? Typical.” he sighed.
“By what miracle have you not turned into a pile of dust yet?”

“Hiaaaa…” the undead moaned, trying to reach the only living person in many, many years.

“Ah, age is no joy, huh?” Subaru remarked calmly as he looked at the man.
“Who would have thought those Americans would unleash such a disease?” he snorted.
“At first they said it was just a flu, that the situation was under control,” he sighed, casting a brief glance at the deserted streets.
“And what happened? On July 14 the virus escaped from Knox County’s exclusion zone, and on July 18 it mutated, creating a new strain transmitted by droplets,” he said, pointing at the man.
“To which over 98% of you have no resistance, sir.”

“Hiaaa.”

“Exactly.” Subaru nodded.
“The virus spread so quickly that on July 28 the world…” he gestured with his hands, mimicking an explosion.
“Big boom! There was no civilization left—except, of course, a handful of survivors who were genetically lucky enough to be resistant only to the airborne strain,” he said, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.
“Do you know how many were resistant? Thousands,” he stated shortly.
“Only that many among the entire known world population were resistant, and do you know how many in Japan?”
“Hiiiaaaa…”

“Exactly!” Subaru kicked the face of the man, who barely registered the blow.
“Only five people! And of those, four were fucking the biggest idiots!” he shouted down the street—no worry about being overheard; five years ago he had just cleaned out this very district… Who would have thought the Yankees would leave so much weaponry in their bases, or that the Self-Defense Forces’ stores would still have untouched boxes of ammunition…

Subaru remembered all too well the riots and how the military “greedily” expended rounds of ammunition on the dispersed crowd…

“The first one committed suicide!” he growled, kicking the undead’s face harder.
“She was only 19, and it had only been two weeks since the collapse of civilization! Damn, two weeks and the girl couldn’t handle it?! All she kept saying was ‘I don’t want to live’ and ‘oh, my poor kitty’—you know what? She couldn’t even hang herself properly; she tied the noose so poorly that instead of snapping her neck immediately, she hung there for several hours, suffocating!” he continued kicking.
“But she wasn’t the worst of them all! Maybe she was a conceited bitch who just couldn’t accept that ‘there will be no more anime series’ or ‘that there wouldn’t be a new season of Sailor Moon!’” He clutched his face. “She was too shut-in, too much of an otaku to understand that the time for being a family parasite was over! The time for peacefully lounging on your ass was over!” he managed through gritted teeth.
“I understood it faster than she did…”
“But as I said, she wasn’t the worst! At least she was driven by nostalgia for the old world; she was afraid of change…”
“Then there were two bastards—a brother and sister—who arranged a wild orgy only to be caught off guard and devoured by a horde!” he continued kicking until the cartilage under his boot began to crack.
“Those fucking assholes robbed me and tried to eat me alive! Fucking cannibals—and that was only six months after the collapse! Six months! They planned to be the new Adam and Eve, so they wanted to ‘eliminate’ the rest of the survivors! Thank God those idiots were too busy screwing around to notice when the prison gates were destroyed by the horde…”
“And the fourth…” he swallowed heavily, shaking his head. He took deep, slow breaths.
“Yoko…” he managed with a heavy sigh.
“I hope you really managed to swim across the sea…” he said, looking again at the undead.
“And do you know what about the fifth?” he pointed at himself.
“I am Natsuki Subaru, the last survivor of Japan. The biggest fucking idiot who couldn’t be eaten, bitten, or killed in these 3,653 days!! Guess who, fucker?!”
“Hiaaa…” the undead moaned, expelling what remained of broken cartilage and stale, dark blood from his throat.

Subaru sighed heavily, slowly straightening up. The undead at his feet kept trying, though he had no chance—just like the rest of this world, dead, empty, silent.

“So, what am I supposed to do now, Mr. Taruki?” he said bitterly. “I’m not going to live like this forever,” he spread his arms. “I cleaned out this district, I cleaned out this city, I cleaned out this area!!”

He looked around the ruins as if expecting to find an answer. Nothing—except the wind rustling among the wrecked cars and the weeds sprouting from the cracked road.

He ran his fingers over the handle of his revolver, feeling the familiar cold metal. So many times he had contemplated one simple act in his mind—lift the weapon, press it to his temple, pull the trigger. End it all. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, convinced he had already done it, that he was no longer here. But then he opened his eyes—and he was back in that emptiness.

“I don’t know what keeps me here, Mr. Taruki. I really don’t know,” he sighed, lifting his gaze to the gray, overcast sky.

   There was a time when he felt needed. In the early years of the epidemic, he still had hope. He heard people over the radio. Yes, those small groups of the resistant at the beginning of the Collapse held on through communication and mutual conversation. Apparently, the world’s greatest governments were still functioning while the wealthy political elites hid in bunkers.
Lucky bastards, although—not really; as he recalled, someone from America had supposedly stumbled upon an abandoned presidential bunker during one of the expeditions, and inside were the half-decomposed corpses of senators and even the president… who was being devoured by the generals…

“Although contact with Jackie was lost so many years ago…” he tapped his unshaven, bushy beard with his fingers. “Maybe he was telling the truth? That no matter how perfect a ‘bunker’ they built—with the best air filtration systems—the disease would still get them…” He looked up at the sky. “Heh, still, there is justice in this world; if only they’d bomb the county immediately…” He snapped his fingers while examining his scarred, burn-marked, matte hand. “It was worth sacrificing tens of thousands for the lives of millions.”

He exchanged information and tips. He talked with survivors in the USA, in Europe, even somewhere in Australia. But everyone he knew eventually vanished.
Some died of hunger, others from exhaustion. Some committed suicide, unable to see the point of further struggle. And him… he endured. Perhaps only because he never had the courage to end it all.

“The last person I spoke to was some ‘professor’ who supposedly discovered a cure for the virus…” he said, looking at the undead. “I lost contact with him three years ago, when he tried—supposedly—to apply the cure on test subjects.”

He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar pain in his chest.
“Yoko…” he whispered, recalling her voice over the radio. “Did you really manage to find your island?” he murmured in a broken voice. “Your very own utopia?”

She was his one last hope. The girl with whom he had clung for so many years—he shared everything with her… even his bed when, exhausted and desperate, they fell into each other’s arms.

“Why, Yoko…” he mumbled, tears dripping from his eyes. “Why wasn’t what we had enough? A huge base, a high, sturdy wall, arable land, cattle, chickens, fish, our dog Bernard…” he sighed. “Did you—my little rose—love me?” He tried to force the words out, but could only produce a quiet, broken moan. “P-please… Yoko, come back, just come back…”

“Hiaaa…” came the distant sound.

“Yes, yes, I know. Real men don’t cry,” Subaru bitterly laughed while wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I wasn’t lying to you, was I? Yoko was my girl, my love.” He managed a bitter smile. “We lived together for so many years—I knew her so well, and she knew me. She always wanted to get out of Japan, to see if anyone else had survived…” He pointed his hand toward the end of the street, for he remembered that in that direction lay the sea. “She wanted to see if anyone had survived on the continent, to join forces and rebuild civilization…”

“But I was a coward,” he sighed, eyeing the revolver. “A great coward, who was afraid of change. I didn’t want to change our home, to leave here. After all, we had everything here—guns, ammunition, food, even electricity!” he cried out one last time with enthusiasm. “But…” His voice fell as he looked bitterly at the undead. “She longed for change. She claimed she’d find a boat and leave Japan. The last person with whom I ever had real contact.” He turned his eyes away from the undead, recoiling from the vacant, lifeless stare. “We had a big fight—quite a fight,” he managed, his words strangled as he bit his lip until it bled. “I wanted her to stay; I wanted to start a family…” He clenched his hands and then took a deep breath. “No, it was my fear speaking.” He looked at the undead. “I was afraid of great change, and I paid for it with the loss of the only person I ever loved. I don’t know what became of her; one day, just… she left me. Without a word, without a note, without goodbye… all I knew was that she was alive because there was no boat in the harbor,” Subaru snorted.

“Did she make it? Did she manage to reach the continent? Or did she simply vanish, like everyone else?” came a hollow question.

He had no answer. And he probably never would.

He placed his hand against his face, rubbing his tired eyes.
“Fuck it,” he finally muttered, hoisting his backpack. “Not today, Mr. Taruki. Not today.”

Subaru sat on the edge of the sidewalk, turning the revolver in his hand. The sun lazily slipped through the dirty, cracked glass of a nearby building, casting long shadows across him. Taruki continued trying to reach him with his hand, though it was futile—the bricks held him in place, and his body looked as though it might fall apart with the next movement.

“Well then, Mr. Taruki…” Subaru sighed and, aiming the barrel at the undead’s head, said, “I just can’t bring myself to finish you off. I’ve grown accustomed to your company.” He gave a bitter smile.

BANG!

“I lied,” Subaru sighed heavily as the undead’s head fell with a bloody thud onto the pavement. “In the end, we all lie—to give our miserable lives some meaning.”

The city around him was silent, as always. Over the decade he had learned that silence in this world was no blessing—it was the harbinger of tragedy. He remembered the days when he still believed in rebuilding, when he thought that people would come together and survive. Ten years had passed, and he was still alone. Alone, surrounded by those who had once been his neighbors, friends, people he’d passed on the street. Now they remained only as dead shadows of the past.

These were the end times.
There was no hope for survival.
This is how you all died.

“The holiest words of the last reporter?” he sighed, recalling the final litany popular among the survivors. “With that kind of attitude, it’s no wonder we dropped like flies…” he muttered grimly. “Who would have thought that an idiot from Japan would be the last one left?”

Ten years had passed, and Subaru was still alone.

He sighed, rising from the sidewalk. He ignored the decaying corpses underfoot and headed toward the city center. He had no specific destination. He simply wasn’t ready to return to a hideout yet.

Over the years, he’d changed his shelter many times. When he still heard other survivors on the radio, some advised, “Don’t stay in one place too long.” Subaru took that to heart—as long as he could.

His first shelter had been a nice little house in the suburbs with a high wall… he’d nearly paid with his life when an infected creature had burst through the bedroom window…

“Thanks, Dad, for the revolver,” he mumbled, kissing the weapon. Of course, throughout his life it wasn’t his only weapon—he had an impressive collection of both firearms and melee weapons!
Machine guns, assault rifles, semi-automatic rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, pistols, submachine guns, flamethrowers…
In his spare time he’d even cobbled one together from scrap.
Katanas, maces, baseball bats, axes, spears, bows, crossbows, shurikens, kukris, knives…
He had an entire collection of proper armaments, just like any normal, upstanding citizen.

His second shelter was some tall shack that probably belonged to a bunch of brats, which was just big enough for him to live in comfortably. He lasted there for about twenty days—right until a horde spotted him and started coming his way…
Thank God at least one car in the parking lot was unlocked and had its keys inside…

After that, it was downhill: auto repair shops, the mansions of the wealthy elite, palaces, former fortifications, prison…
Yes… he lived in a prison for a good year before that band of cannibalistic idiots attacked him and stole his gear!
Fucking dead perverts…

Then, he ended up living in a fairly isolated village with access to clean water, food, and a small hydroelectric plant. He stayed there for a good four years—one year completely alone and three years with his Yuki…

“No,” he sighed. “Don’t think about it—it doesn’t help at all.”

But eventually he grew weary. Ever since Yuki left him… he couldn’t continue living on the farm. Everything about her reminded him of her—those doors, those paintings, that wood… everything.

“So I took only the most important things and moved on,” he said. “Of course, my armory is spread out in many places—in the end, my map is a true work of art.” He chuckled. “So many marked crosses on buildings—nobody else has done that—and so many areas have been neutralized by me…” he fell silent.

He found a small high-rise on the outskirts of Tokyo and made it his home. He cleared the area, secured the entrances, gathered supplies. Ultimately, though, every place became a cage. So he left. Just like now.

He walked along the empty streets, dodging wrecked cars and ruined buildings. His thoughts constantly circled back to Yoko. Had she managed to reach the continent? Had she found other people there? Or maybe she had perished on the first day after leaving Japan?

Subaru kicked a can, which clattered noisily across the asphalt. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in this dead city. He glanced toward the roadside.

The ruins of the train station still stood, though its roof had long since collapsed. He saw movement there. For a moment his heart raced. He squinted, reached for a pair of binoculars, and looked in that direction.

The undead. Five, maybe six, wandering among the rubble.

Subaru snorted softly under his breath. “Infected? What the fuck, how on earth have those poor bastards managed to survive this long?”
It was hard not to wonder—after all, the Knox virus affected the infected in almost supernatural ways. Besides, of course, reanimating corpses—which Subaru himself had for most of his life thought was God’s punishment—their bodies didn’t show the usual signs of decay. Sure, physical injuries still took their toll, but something like ordinary muscle rot? As if that weren’t enough, even stupid flies wouldn’t land on the infected corpses…

“Something is very, very wrong with all of you,” he muttered grimly as he removed his backpack and pulled out a rather simple Mauser Model 98 repeating rifle equipped with an optical sight. You might be asking, “Where the hell did Subaru get such a rifle in Japan?”

“The answer is very simple.”

“Who would have thought what one of the police commissioners keeps in his safe?” muttered Subaru, adjusting his grip on the weapon. “Alright, from this distance I can shoot these corpses as easily as ducks.”

Subaru settled into a comfortable stance, pulled the rifle to his shoulder, and looked through the optical sight. One deep breath. His heart slowed; his body calmed.

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The shot rang out in the dead silence of the ruins. One of the undead fell; its skull exploded like a rotten apple. The rest of the corpses froze for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. Seizing their hesitation, Subaru aimed again.

A second shot. Another head burst in a spray of blood.

“There are four left,” he observed with a bitter smile. He felt himself returning to that rhythm which had accompanied him for years—the same cycle: locate the target, eliminate the threat, survive another day.

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!

The third shot. The fourth. The fifth.

The last living corpse was that of a schoolgirl—a girl with short dark hair who was actually quite pretty, if not for the fact that she had lost her left leg and her right arm hung by a few barely intact muscles.

“Goodbye,” said Subaru as he pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sixth shot. The last body collapsed to the ground.

Subaru slowly exhaled, releasing the tension. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and moved toward the station, cautiously stepping over the cracked concrete. The bodies of the undead lay motionless, and the air reeked of blood and gunpowder.

“That went too easy,” he muttered, glancing at the corpses. The infected were unusually slow, even more so than normal. Their clothes were in tatters, as if they had wandered aimlessly for years.

“You probably turned into trash at the beginning of this shitshow, didn’t you?” he snorted as he inspected them. “Trash, trash, and more trash.” He looked around them. “What’s wrong with you people? Where are your weapons, your food, or anything important?” he growled, pulling some cash from his pocket. “Screw money—do you have any canned food or electronics?”

He stooped beside one of the bodies and examined its face closely. Empty eyes, skin pulled tight over the skull, lips agape in a perpetual grimace. But something was off. He furrowed his brow as he noticed something on its neck that he hadn’t seen on the other infected.

Scars. Deep cuts that looked like old wounds. Subaru squinted.

“Could it be that someone played with you before you ended up like this?” he asked the dead man, running his hand over the rough skin. “Ah, I’m not saying it outright, but it’s been ten years already—so your tormentor has probably joined the undead horde by now, nice and easy.”

Then he heard it.

A whisper.

“My love…”

It wasn’t the wind, nor his imagination. It was quiet, almost imperceptible, yet distinct. Undeniably human.

Subaru sprang to his feet and instantly raised his weapon, ready to fire.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted.

Silence answered him.

Then he heard it again. Right behind him.

“I love you…”

His heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, he turned his head, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. There, in the shadow of a collapsed wall, stood a figure—tall, slender, shrouded in darkness. Subaru couldn’t make out the face, but something about it made him freeze.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” the figure repeated softly.

“Stay back!” Subaru shouted, taking several steps backward. “I knew some strains of the infected evolve, but…,” he frowned. “Alright, Subaru, think analytically! In front of you is an unidentified infected of an unknown variant, capable of speech!” he growled. “This isn’t normal!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…” came a soft, almost regretful murmur from the figure.

“The anomaly appears far more advanced!” roared Subaru on the brink of panic. “My hunting rifle should give me a five-minute advantage before I dash to the shelter for more ammunition…” He began backing away slowly. “The infected, however, are not showing any aggressive behavior toward me at the moment…”

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” the figure repeated again.

“This anomaly might be a mortal threat to uninfected people,” stated Subaru with determination. “In such situations, immediate elimination of the enemy is recommended.”

“Subaru…” the voice repeated, more softly this time.

Then the figure stepped forward…

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!

“Get away!!” Subaru shouted, firing three shots at her. The bullets pierced the girl’s body… yet she didn’t bleed.

“My love…” the figure repeated in a haunting tone.

She didn’t bleed…
She fucking didn’t bleed…

“FUCK! FUCK! GODDAMMIT!” Subaru roared.

“Run! Run!” he commanded, tactically retreating toward the open street.

“MY LOVE!” the infected screamed after him. “MY LOVE! MY LOVE! MY LOVE!”

“Don’t look back,” he urged as he ran on. “Goddammit! I knew it! Some fucking infected has evolved in this area! But how?! What the fuck caused this?! WHAT?!”

“MY LOVE!” came the relentless refrain.

“Taste this, bitch!!” Subaru shouted, pulling a grenade from his pocket and arming it. He hurled it toward the abomination… and didn’t have to wait long for it to explode.

BUM!

“MY LOVE!” the voice echoed once more.

“W-what the hell is this powerful shit?” asked Subaru, his face as pale as marble as he continued running. “Think! Think!”

“HIAAA!”
“Hiaaa.”
“Hiaa…”

Passing near one of the high-rises, Subaru noticed a large horde of infected crowding against a window.

CRASH!

The glass shattered easily under the pressure of the infected horde, which tumbled onto the concrete—often breaking bones. Yet they slowly rose, moving toward Subaru with outstretched hands and that damned, unseeing gaze.

“Fuck, I forgot about you Sleepers!” he exclaimed. “Sleepers” was one of the terms he’d picked up from the radio. According to survivors, some of the infected enter a state of hibernation—capable of complete immobility for decades—until they hear a survivor; then, so to speak, they wake up…and it was that grenade that accidentally roused them.

“Brilliant, Subaru—simply a fucking divine genius,” he muttered bitterly.

Subaru ran blindly, weaving between wrecks and rubble, feeling the blood pulse in his temples. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, but panic clutched his throat like a steel band.

“Hiaaa…” Yet the infected did not rush toward him blindly; instead, they headed toward the anomaly.

“It’s impossible… it’s impossible… THIS CAN’T BE!” he repeated in his mind.

“My love!”—from that direction he could clearly hear the tearing of muscles and cartilage… the anomaly…
It proved to be much stronger—judging by the sound of bones breaking.

For ten years, he had witnessed horrors that would haunt the worst nightmares—torn-apart bodies, living corpses gnawing on their own limbs, skeletal children crawling on the ground, trying to bite anything that moved. But this… THIS was something new. Something he had never seen, never heard, never wanted to encounter.

An infected that spoke. An infected that knew his name.

An infected that didn’t bleed.

“Th-that… was Yuki…?” the thought struck him like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. For a split second, the image of her face—as he remembered it, smiling, gentle—overlaid the nightmare he was witnessing among the ruins of the station.

“No… It’s impossible… She’s dead… I saw her body… I saw it…” he whispered.

He halted, breathing hard, and leaned against the remnants of a concrete pillar, trying to calm a heart pounding like mad. He looked around frantically. Silence.

She wasn’t there.
She wasn’t chasing him.

But Subaru knew that meant nothing.

He pulled a radio from his pocket—a device that once pulsed with life: voices of survivors, calls for help, warnings, sometimes even jokes. Now it was only a crackling static hiss, occasionally interrupted by interference. But today… today he had to try.

He turned the dial and pressed the transmit button:

“Hello… This is Subaru… This is Subaru… If anyone hears me… please respond… I had contact with…,” he hesitated. “With an anomaly. An unknown type of infected… she spoke… I repeat… SHE SPOKE… she knew my name… Please… is anyone there…?” His voice trembled. “Has anyone else seen anything like this?”

He released the button and listened. Only static hiss met his call.

Subaru cursed under his breath and tucked the radio away. He knew no one would answer, but he had to try anyway.

His hands trembled as he reloaded his weapon. He had to return to his hideout. He needed to gather more ammunition. He had to rethink… everything.

Every survivor knew one thing—when something new appears, something you don’t understand, you have two choices: run or die.

Subaru made his decision.

Tonight, he would leave Tokyo.

No matter what he had seen… no matter who that person was… he couldn’t stay here.

Something had changed.

Something that could be the beginning of the end—the true end.

Or perhaps it simply meant that they had finally reached the hell that had been trying to drag them in for ten years.

“This is how we died…” Subaru whispered, gazing at the dead city.

“But I’m not fucking finished yet.”

[ONE HOUR LATER]

In a large garage, secured by a solid barricade, with a pile of burning corpses smoldering not far away, a man was inspecting everything in his temporary base.

"Alright, Subaru, just one last check," he sighed with frustration, sitting in the driver’s seat of his off-road vehicle, slightly modified by his own hand.

It had additional storage boxes mounted above the rear side windows. A special bumper was installed, a new tailgate, modified rear lights, and a ladder that provided easy access to the roof.

"That ladder came in handy more than once when a horde caught me..." Subaru sighed inwardly.

Speaking of the roof, up there you would find a roof rack and...

"A machine gun," he smiled proudly. "Oh yeah, stole that from the military. Years of blacksmithing and metalworking paid off, heh..."

Additionally, he had installed heavy steel plates that protected the body from damage when driving through rough terrain.

Mostly, it protected against damage from driving over piles of rotten flesh...

Ahem!

"Back to the check-up, Subaru," the man said, pulling out a notebook. "Ammo? Check. Food supplies for a year? Check. Electronics with an extra generator and solar panels? Check. Ten rifles, three shotguns, five pistols, three revolvers... Check. Knives, axes, machetes, and katanas... Check." He nodded. "Documents, cassettes, CDs, video games, Mr. Pudziak..." He poked the raccoon plushie sitting on the passenger seat with his pencil. "How's life, Mr. Raccoon?"

"Oh, good, good, Mr. Baru, just hurry up, or that crazy infected one will come and hurt us," said his friend, without moving his mouth or anything at all. After all... he was a plushie... Yes...

"Exactly, Mr. Raccoon," Subaru smiled, ignoring the fact that he was talking to an inanimate object. "Everything's checked. We can finally get the hell out of here!"

Subaru turned the ignition key. The off-roader's engine growled with a low, guttural sound. The wheels slowly rolled over cracked asphalt, passing wrecks and scattered remnants of a world that vanished ten years ago.

"Mr. Raccoon, please fasten your seatbelt, we're leaving Tokyo," he joked, glancing at the plushie.

"Mr. Baru, you must be careful! Who knows where that devil woman is?" asked the plushie with concern, though it neither moved its mouth nor ceased to be a plushie.

But his hand on the steering wheel was trembling.

The last few hours still echoed in his mind. That silhouette... That voice... Her voice?

"Yuki...?"

He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"No, no..." he whispered. "That's impossible..."

The car slowly exited the underground garage when suddenly... something hit the back of the vehicle.

BANG!

"What the...?!" Subaru looked in the rearview mirror.

Behind him, in the shadows, an infected woman was thrashing about. Her skin was pale, with silver hair and amethyst eyes with a bluish tint. She wore a dark dress, and her ears were... quite strange...

"Fuck, Mr. Baru, I told you!!" screamed Mr. Raccoon in despair, though he was still just a plushie.

His heart jumped, but he instinctively pressed the gas. The tires screeched, the car lunged forward, leaving her behind.

"Damn it!" he muttered, trying to calm himself.

He looked in the mirror again. The infected woman got up from the asphalt, but... she didn't chase after him. She just stood there, motionless, staring in his direction. As if she knew she would find him anyway.

"Subaru..." a soft whisper pierced his mind, though he knew he couldn't hear it through the closed windows.

Her voice again.

"Fuck..." he growled, slamming his fist against the steering wheel.

He sped up, passing more intersections full of debris and death. Tokyo was dead, but today proved to him that some things in this city... could be worse than death.

"What the hell caused that damn mutation?" he growled, driving through the empty streets, occasionally swerving around a few wrecked cars and old military barricades...

"Maybe the climate? She could've been locked in some dark place for ten years and mutated?"

"No," Mr. Raccoon denied.

"Maybe a failed military experiment trying to find a cure?"

"They burned every test facility in the crematoriums," Mr. Raccoon denied again.

"Or some genetic mutation? Who knows, by some fucking miracle, I'm still alive, so..."

"That's not how biology works," Mr. Raccoon denied.

"Fuck you, Raccoon," Subaru showed him the middle finger. "Eh... why the hell did I even save you from that plushie store?"

"Because you're a tired, lonely bastard who can't bring himself to end his life," said Mr. Raccoon without moving his mouth. "Let's be honest, who talks to a plushie?"

"Someone who survived the last ten years on the edge of insanity," Subaru muttered calmly.

"Fair point," Mr. Raccoon murmured. "At least I'm probably a better option than that lady Angela..."

"Fuck off about Lady Angela..." Subaru sighed. "At least she comforted me in the hardest moments..."

"She's a sex doll," said Mr. Raccoon. "That's her job."

"And you're a racist plushie, that's all," Subaru replied.

"Fair point," agreed Mr. Raccoon.

***

[HALF AN HOUR LATER]

He was already far from the station. He crept slowly through the industrial district, looking for a safe way out of the city.

The radio was silent.

Static.

Only static.

"Time to put on some tunes," he sighed, pulling a cassette from his pocket and sliding it into the car.

Oh baby, baby Oh baby, baby Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know That something wasn't right here Oh baby, baby, I shouldn't have let you go And now you're out of sight, yeah Show me how you want it to be Tell me baby 'cause I need to know now, oh because My loneliness is killing me (and I) I must confess I still believe (still believe) When I'm not with you I lose my mind Give me a sign Hit me baby one more time

"Give me a sign, please, my loneliness is killing me..." Subaru hummed melodiously.

"You're off-key," Mr. Raccoon replied curtly.

"Fuck off."

Oh baby, baby The reason I breathe is you Boy you got me blinded Oh pretty baby There's nothing that I wouldn't do It's not the way I planned it Show me how you want it to be Tell me baby 'cause I need to know now, oh because

CRASH!

"Shit!" Subaru growled, slamming the brakes, tires screeching.

"What is it?" asked Mr. Raccoon.

"That lunatic..." Subaru gripped the steering wheel tighter, frustration and anxiety rising. "No infected was ever so relentless to eat my ass..."

At the end of the street stood a figure.

Tall.

Slim.

With her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Subaru..." she whispered.

No.

Not now.

Not here.

He slammed on the gas pedal. Tires screeched as the car lunged forward.

"MY LOVE!"

The figure started running, faster than any infected should be able to move.

"NO!" Subaru shouted, driving straight into her.

THUD!

Her body bounced off the hood, but when he looked in the rearview mirror... She was getting up. Unharmed.

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" he roared, speeding forward.

Only her voice answered him. "MY LOVE...!"

Subaru kept driving.

He didn't look back.

A strange gust of wind swept through the world around Subaru's car, as if it were a scanner. Sensing it, Subaru glanced around, then shrugged.

"W-what the hell?"

"Mr. Baru, that lunatic is a witch!!" screamed Mr. Raccoon in terror, despite showing no emotions because he was a mascot.

"What the hell?" Subaru muttered slowly, noticing dark streaks in the rearview mirror, racing toward him. "What is..."

Subaru rubbed his eyes for a moment. As he did, the scene began to change. He struggled to open his eyes as suddenly everything grew bright.

"Shit!" he growled, braking hard, tires screeching.

"We're all gonna die!" lamented Mr. Raccoon, who was a mascot.

When he opened his eyes... He looked at the city before him with horror in his eyes.

"What the fuck is this?" Subaru muttered slowly, seeing people—not infected—real, living people, though dressed as if they had walked out of a stage play.

Wait a minute... real, living people?

SMACK!

Subaru slapped his face. "I'm not dreaming..." His eyes widened as he looked at the living, normal people. Not rotting corpses, not walking heaps of flesh. Real people!

"This..." he swallowed hard, unsure what to say. Think, Subaru! Just because you had those social anxiety issues and awkwardness as a kid doesn't mean you can't talk, right?

You've survived ten years! You made it through hordes, mutants, and god knows what else?!

You can do this; you just need to greet them politely, ask what this place is, and the rest will follow...

Exactly, be polite and courteous like a gentleman...

"Hey, you!" barked one of those "people," dressed in rags. "Don't you have somewhere else to park that metal beast, you freak!?"

Subaru stared blankly at him, then took a deep breath.

Okay, maybe the start was shitty, but maybe being polite will still work out? Come on, Subaru, just say it and...

Take a deep breath... and...

"Fuck off, you goddamn faggot son of a bitch!" Subaru snarled at him, rolling down the window and sticking his hand out, middle finger raised. "Go fuck yourself!"

Right... Subaru sighed inwardly. Years of social isolation, constant survival struggles had made him more "honest" than any Japanese person in the world.

The man in rags stepped back, shocked by Subaru's vulgar retort. He wasn't used to someone throwing insults at him so brazenly, especially from behind some... iron beast roaring like a dragon.

“What did you just say, you dickhead?!” he shouted, reaching for something that looked like a rusty sword.

Subaru looked at him with disbelief and exhaustion. “God, why is the first living human I see in many, many years some crazy fucking bandit…” he muttered under his breath.

“Mr. Baru, maybe let’s not provoke the guests in rags with knives, huh?” suggested Mr. Raccoon.

Subaru sighed heavily. His hand automatically reached under the seat for an old, worn-out shotgun. The weapon was rusty, covered in tape, but it worked—and that mattered most.

“Alright, you clown, you wanna dance?” Subaru leaned out of the car, aiming the barrel toward the man. “Try scratching my paint, and you’ll get a hole in your guts, got it?”

The man froze. Apparently, shotguns were not a common sight in this land.

“What… what kind of magic is this?!” he screamed, stepping back even further. “He has a sorcerer’s staff!”

BANG!

“Fuck, my leg!” the man screamed in pain, clutching his bleeding limb. This caused panic among the crowd, who fled from the scene of the tragedy...

“Well, fuck, yeah, Gandalf, a staff that shoots buckshot!” Subaru waved his hand, looking bored at the man. “Shoo, or I’ll turn you into Swiss cheese!”

The idiot ran away in panic, screaming something about the “devil from beyond the mountains” and the “iron dragon.”

Subaru exhaled, resting his head on the steering wheel.

“Jesus, I’m dreaming, this isn’t really happening…” he sighed.

“It is happening, Mr. Baru,” Mr. Raccoon reminded him. “And it looks like we’ve landed in some medieval Disneyland.”

Subaru looked ahead. Indeed—stone buildings, people in tunics, carts pulled by horses. The air was filled with the smell of shit and rotting hay.

“Oh no…” Subaru groaned. “This is that kind of crap they always watched in anime… getting transported to another world… fuck, no…”

“Congratulations, Mr. Baru, looks like you’ve got yourself an isekai,” said Mr. Raccoon sarcastically.

Subaru pressed the gas and drove through the cobbled street, causing panic among the residents. People ran, shouting something about a “demonic machine.”

“Yeah, yeah, run, civilization has arrived!” Subaru shouted out the window.

“Mr. Baru, maybe let’s not start with conquest…” Mr. Raccoon noted.

“You’re right…” Subaru sighed. “But how long before someone accuses me of heresy and wants to burn me at the stake?”

“Five minutes,” estimated Mr. Raccoon.

“Thought so.”

Subaru turned into a side alley, stopping the car near a stable. He got out, leaning against the hood. People were already staring at him, whispering. An old woman crossed herself. “Oh great dragon, protect us from this devil…”

“Mr. Baru, we need to find water, food, and a place where they won’t lynch you for having a car, a gun, and swearing like a sailor,” advised Mr. Raccoon.

Subaru nodded. “And find out if that witch followed me here…”

He felt a chill just remembering her voice.

“MY LOVE…” Mr. Raccoon suddenly mimicked her.

“Shut up, you bastard!” Subaru smacked him on the head.

And so began his adventure in another world—full of misunderstandings, sarcasm, and attempts to survive with a shotgun in hand and a talking mascot under his arm.

[FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER]

“So, if I understand correctly, a metal beast suddenly appeared at the market stall, with a bearded man in armor inside?” asked a young man with fiery red hair, dressed in a white uniform.

“Exactly,” the one-legged cripple nodded. “He blew off my leg!”

“And you’re Mr. Reed, right?” the knight murmured slowly, observing the man with a scrutinizing gaze. “Reed Victor, the well-known perfume vendor?”

“Exactly,” the cripple nodded, surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Illegal drug trafficking in the capital, that’s how,” the knight crossed his arms, squinting his eyes. “And hearing your story about metal monsters, magic wands, and a vulgar drunk…” he stroked his chin. “Well… I’ll have to add illegal drug consumption to the charges because I don’t believe you’re telling me this sober.”

“B-but I’m telling the truth!” the man shouted, pale.

“There was a metal monster, a magic wand, and some drunk…”

“That’s the truth as you see it, correct,” the knight sighed. “But thanks to experience, I know that people who firmly believe their version of the truth can unknowingly lie to me.” He smiled slightly. “And that’s why I’m asking you to come with me to the prison.”

“F-fine…” the cripple sighed, hobbling on one leg. He wasn’t stupid enough to challenge the kingdom’s greatest weapon of mass destruction. “Are you going to do something about that metal monster?”

“Let’s start with more down-to-earth matters, my good friend,” the knight nodded. “Life has shown me that through mundane tasks, one can protect the Kingdom…”

“And what exactly?” the cripple raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Paperwork,” Reinhard forced out with difficulty, as his smile twitched for a moment. “It’s a battle in which even I, the holy knight, struggle to prevail.”

“B-but what about the drunk?” the cripple asked uncertainly. “He could be killing people!”

“We’ve sent a squad of knights to verify the accuracy of your observations,” the knight replied briefly. “We’ll ensure whether your statements were accurate…” Reinhard sighed. “You must understand, my new friend, that I am a holy knight, and unfortunately, I cannot be everywhere.” His smile faded slightly. “The Council of Sages ensured that.”

“I understand,” the cripple sighed heavily. “So paperwork is more important than the lives of healthy, innocent people, huh? Hundreds, maybe even thousands, who could die at the hands of that dangerous wizard accompanied by that devilish but admittedly cute raccoon mascot?” he asked sarcastically.

“Welcome to Lugunica,” Reinhard shrugged, though he muttered in surprise. “Wait, you mentioned a raccoon?”

“Yeah…” the cripple shrugged. “A cute plush raccoon mascot, quite nice, I must say.”

“Hm…” Reinhard stroked his chin. “Perhaps I will help you with your rather unfortunate situation…”

“Really?” the cripple raised an eyebrow. “Because of the raccoon?”

“There might be something far bigger than any of us…” Reinhard murmured seriously, his expression stern. “This matter might be of national importance, Mr. Reed…”

“Oh shit…”

“Exactly,” Reinhard nodded with gravity. “Spiffo…” he murmured seriously, with a hard gaze. “I must find you…”

Chapter Text

"Okay, calm down, Subaru, take a deep breath and think about what to do next..." sighed the black-haired man as he scanned the streets of a city unfamiliar to him. He was dressed in a military uniform, slightly modified by his own hand. On both arms he wore articulated metal guards—always handy in case of bites. He also sported light leather shin guards with an iron admixture.

"And also this," smiled Subaru as he picked up a cowboy hat from the back seat and placed it on his head.

"How do I look?" he asked his companion.

"Like an apocalyptic cowboy," stated Mr. Raccoon curtly—the mascot.

"Very good," nodded Subaru as he slowly got out of his car. He had parked near a stable, where, of course, the local natives eyed him uncertainly.

"Hey, kid," Subaru called out to one of the youngsters, who didn’t seem frightened by him. In fact, the boy appeared very intrigued…

Interesting…

And this was the first of several "half-people" that Subaru encountered—a fact that made him wonder if they were merely the product of the last vestiges of his consciousness while being devoured alive by a horde…

"Hmm? What do you want, stranger?" asked the young boy with dog-like ears, crossing his arms. Clad in a dirty T-shirt and bearing several scars on his face, it was clear which social class he came from.

"Keep an eye on my car so some bum doesn’t destroy or steal it," said Subaru, pulling from his backpack something that in his old world was worth a fortune. But now? For Subaru, practical things mattered—and besides, he couldn’t eat it or turn it into a weapon. In other words, it was useless.

"Grab it," said Subaru as he tossed a small gold bar to the kid.

"Holy shit!" squealed the surprised youngster, his eyes widening. "I–is that...?"

"That’s right." nodded Subaru. "Gold." he added with a shrug. "So, keep an eye on my car and you'll get a second bar, deal?" he offered, extending his hand to the boy.

The boy glanced at the gold bar in his hand. "Of course!" he quickly agreed, shaking his hand. "My parents won’t believe it!"

"And you'd better not tell anyone," whispered Subaru into the boy’s ear. "You know what street rats are capable of, right?" he muttered.

"Exactly," the boy beamed broadly, confirming Subaru’s suspicion that he had somehow landed in a medieval world.

"But first, get yourself some good dental services," Subaru grimaced slightly. "Cavities can quickly lead to the grave, and your rather crooked teeth might bring about some unintended, adverse health effects."

"A dentist? And who’s that?" asked the youngster uncertainly, tilting his head.

"The guy who will straighten your teeth," replied Subaru curtly.

"But why?" the boy scratched his head.

"So that you can be even more handsome," Subaru rolled his eyes. "Trust me, girls love that clean, dazzling smile." He grinned, revealing teeth as pure white as ivory. "See?"

"Yeah, I see…" the boy nodded sagely. "Still, I’d rather go to a brothel," he shrugged. "It’s much cheaper for me, and honestly, I don’t have to pay outrageous sums to satisfy the whims of a girl like that."

"You know what, never mind…" Subaru waved his hand dismissively. "Just watch over it, okay?"

"Sure thing, boss! I’ll guard it like my sister’s virginity," the boy declared, placing a hand over his heart. "My father made me swear that I’d ensure my little sister stays pure until her wedding."

"Hehehe…" chuckled Mr. Raccoon, who was attached to Subaru’s backpack.

Slightly embarrassed by the mascot’s giggle, Subaru glanced to his left—and his eyes widened.

"Is that the girl with brown hair, dog ears, and emerald eyes? The one who usually dresses like a boy?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes? And how do you know that?" the boy raised his eyebrows.

"She’s just giving someone a blowjob in that alley," Subaru said, pointing toward an alley where, indeed, a man with green hair was being serviced by a kneeling young girl.

"Julia!!" snarled the boy, turning as red as a turkey and sprinting straight toward her. "For fuck’s sake! Keeping pure also means keeping your mouth clean!!"

"Oh no! Romeo, run!" cried the girl, her eyes widening in terror as her brother spotted her.

"Oh hey, Cecil, how’s life?" laughed nervously the young boy with green hair as he quickly pulled up his pants.

"Life?! You fucking bastard, you seduced my poor sister!" he accused, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"Isekai, huh?" grunted Subaru, shaking his head. "I'm too old for this shit…"

Standing aside and leaning against his car with one hand on his face, Subaru tried to stifle his laughter.

"Jesus Mary, it’s like I’m watching some kind of pathology from the housing projects…" he muttered. "It reminds me of that nature documentary I accidentally watched as a kid…" He stroked his beard. "A pretty interesting ecosystem, to be honest—but the question is, is this normal?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Years of isolation have taken their toll…"

Mr. Raccoon was shaking with amusement—his plush body trembling on Subaru’s backpack. "Hey, Mr. Baru, isn’t this the famous 'medieval family drama'?" he snorted between giggles.

"Yeah, but with a side of alley blowjob…" sighed Subaru, then looked around to notice that several people were watching this little spectacle. Some nodded in understanding, while others commented:

"Oh, Julia’s giving it away for free again…" sighed an older bearded man.

"That’s the third time this week…" added a woman selling onions. "It’s a real wonder that she only goes down on them." She shook her head with a chuckle. "When I was her age, I already had triplets…"

Subaru looked at her in astonishment. "And you all just… accept all of this?"

"Well, uh, sort of… yes," the woman shrugged. "If not her, then who? It’s better that she does it in the city than somewhere along the road, right?"

Subaru just nodded, feeling that his mind was slowly giving in.

Meanwhile, Cecil was trying to reach the green-haired boy, who was hiding behind a bag of potatoes.

"I swear, Romeo, I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the pigeons!" he shrieked. "You won’t live to see tomorrow, you faggot bastard!"

"Julia, say something to him!" Romeo yelled, still tugging his pants up. "Your brother wants to kill me!"

Standing aside and adjusting her clothes, Julia rolled her eyes and muttered, "Cecil, come on, take it easy. It’s just a kiss—I didn’t do anything more! Besides…" She looked proudly at Subaru. "I wanted to earn some cash for new clothes, because some rich guy is handing out gold bars here!"

Cecil immediately turned toward Subaru, his eyes lighting up.

"What? You too want my sister to…?!" he shouted, raising his fists.

Subaru raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "NO! NO! Oh God, no! I only wanted you to watch over the car!" he exclaimed, wildly gesturing and shaking his head. Just because he’d grown accustomed to the infected, great tragedy, death, and despair… didn’t mean he’d gotten used to this parody.

"Is this what normal life is like?" Subaru wondered deeply. "Am I really that antisocial, or perhaps…"

Sighing and shaking his head, he admitted, "Yes, my sins will never leave me…"

"Aha…" Cecil lowered his hands, though his gaze remained suspicious. "But… if anything… prices are negotiable…" he whispered, glancing at his sister.

"FUCK!" Subaru grabbed his head. "Are you all here just selling your bodies?!"

"Well…" Julia waved her hand. "The market’s tough, and inflation has done its thing this year…"

"Plus, there’s anarchy, and merchants aren’t sure if it’s worth trading in the capital these uncertain times," added Romeo. "My father—the app vendor—used to tell me all about it…"

"Shut up, Romeo, or I swear you won’t live to see tomorrow!" snarled Julia’s brother.

"Oh, Cecil, give it a rest!" Julia managed. "You worked in your youth too, didn’t you…?"

"But as an erotic dancer!" Cecil said proudly with a smile. "That was my best job…" the boy sighed nostalgically. "I met true friends there, they paid well, and the clients were nice…" he added longingly. "Those were beautiful times…"

Mr. Raccoon nearly fell off the backpack from laughing so hard. "Mr. Baru, welcome to the oral-hand economy!"

Subaru sat down on the hood of his car, wiping his face. "Alright, alright… Just watch over the car. And make sure no one gives me a blowjob on the hood, got it?" he ordered with a vacant, murderous stare. Years of living in a ruined world had taught him how to treat animals during a hunt—and apparently, he had even developed a killer gaze, though he had never tested it on living people.

"Y-yeah…" Cecil stammered, quickly nodding.

"Y-yeah…" Julia managed to say, swallowing hard as she hobbled under the weight of the cowboy’s stare.

"Quite interesting reactions…" Subaru mused.

"Hey, if you want, we've got a family package…" began Julia hesitantly. "My aunt is beautiful and talented…"

"NO!" Subaru abruptly stood up. "Scram and watch over the car—end of discussion!"

Cecil and Julia exchanged glances and shrugged.

"Alright, boss, as you wish," said Cecil as he stood at attention. "But if anything… you know the number."

With that, Subaru strode briskly toward the marketplace, leaving behind the siblings who were already planning what to do with the second gold bar.

Mr. Raccoon sighed. "Mr. Baru, I'm starting to like this place."

"Shut up…" grumbled Subaru, though he couldn’t hide a smile.

Chapter Text

"So, getting back to our last conversation," began Subaru, awkwardly coughing. "You're saying that your grandfather runs the so-called 'Loot House' where I can exchange my items?"

"Exactly," nodded Felt, yawning.

"It's a real wonder that you managed to understand it with your empty head," chuckled Mr. Raccoon.

"Shut up," sighed Subaru, not noticing the inquisitive looks from the two girls.

"It's a bit unsettling that this old guy is talking to that mascot..." Felt whispered to the girl with silver hair and innocent eyes.

"Well... everyone has their quirks..." she said hesitantly, fidgeting with her fingers. "It's not my place to judge someone for such minor quirks..." she added, averting her gaze with a slight reproach. "I'm not without fault myself..."

"Ugh..." Felt sighed with a hint of frustration, massaging her temple. "Why do I keep encountering lunatics on my life path?" she muttered gloomily.

"Hey, I heard that!" Subaru looked at her with feigned irritation, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"That was supposed to be a secret!" Felt snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "And don't pretend that it hurt your feelings. Clearly, you love that weird relationship you have with the mascot!"

"I wouldn't call it a 'relationship,' more like... an endless torment," grumbled Subaru, shooting a brief glance toward Mr. Raccoon, who merely shrugged as if saying, "You asked for it."

Emilia—since that was the name of the girl with silver hair—smiled gently, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern.

"Anyway," Felt broke the silence, stepping forward, "if you want to exchange your stuff, then you have to come with me to Grandpa Rom. He's probably sitting in his shack, sipping something stronger as usual."

"Rom...?" Subaru raised his eyebrows. "Is your grandfather some typical old man with a pipe and slippers?"

"Pff..." Felt snorted with laughter. "Tell him that to his face, and you'll end up as a pancake. He's big... very big."

"Aha..." Subaru swallowed, trying not to imagine a gigantic old man crushing him with one hand.

"Calm down," Felt said reassuringly with a smile. "Old Rom is strict, but he has a good heart. Just... be good."

"Sure, politeness is my middle name," said Subaru with exaggerated enthusiasm, which brought another smile to the girl's face.

Felt rolled her eyes, though a slight smirk appeared on her face.

"Alright, alright, enough talk. If you keep showing off like that, your grandpa will sell you along with your junk." She waved her hand, moving down the winding alley between dilapidated buildings.

Subaru instinctively followed her, and Emilia, adjusting her cloak, trailed right behind. Mr. Raccoon, as usual, was humming some song.

 Ring ding ding daa baa
 Baa aramba baa bom baa barooumba
 Wh-wha-what's going on-on?
 Ding, ding
 This is the Crazy Frog

"Everything alright, Mr. Raccoon?" Subaru raised an eyebrow at his behavior.

"I sense trouble," Mr. Raccoon muttered emotionlessly. "And out of nerves, I sing stupid songs..."

"Really?" sneered Subaru sarcastically. "I just can't believe you're into this..." he sighed with a touch of deep sarcasm.

"Yes, yes, just don't come back to me with 'I told you so' later," sighed Mr. Raccoon. "We should immediately search the area for supplies, come up with a plan to build a new base, think! And not mess around with this 'trading'," he muttered. "Nobody really trades—if you want something, you take it!"

"This isn't our world, Mr. Raccoon."

"Our world was better! You were a king!" Mr. Raccoon emphasized the word "king."

"King of the living dead, huh?" grumbled Subaru gloomily.

"Oh, you know what I mean! We had everything! Food! Ammunition! Cars!"

"And that's enough for you?" asked Subaru uncertainly.

"And what do you want more? Glory and power! What else do you need?" asked Mr. Raccoon.

"Everything else," sighed Subaru as he continued walking. "I keep thinking, Mr. Raccoon," he sighed. "I just keep thinking."

"Sometimes, it's just too much..." added Subaru in a low voice, glancing around the neglected alley.

Felt cast a sidelong glance his way. Emilia, too, seemed increasingly intrigued by this unusual conversation. They whispered something to each other—a fact that didn’t escape Subaru’s notice—but he decided to ignore it. It wasn’t the first time someone had called him a lunatic.

They wandered through the narrow streets of a rundown district, where life beat to its own harsh rhythm. Kids scampered barefoot between barrels, older women poured wash water onto the pavement, and groups of shady characters eyed them from beneath their hoods. Subaru felt their gaze upon him, but Felt strode confidently as if this were her own territory.

"See?" whispered Mr. Raccoon to Subaru. "You have to command respect here. One wrong step and you might say goodbye to your kidneys."

"Thanks for the motivation..." Subaru grimaced.

"We're here," Felt announced as she stopped in front of what looked like a ruined shed, clad in old planks from which rusted nails jutted out. Above the entrance hung a crooked sign painted with an axe and a pouch.

"Welcome to the Loot House," Felt said, turning around with her arms spread wide.

"More like 'Lost House'..." muttered Subaru.

"Are we going in, or are you just going to stand there and be scared?" Felt retorted, grabbing the doorknob.

Before Subaru could answer, the door creaked open loudly, revealing an imposing figure inside. A bald old man, with enormous hands and arms like tree trunks, looked down at them. Suspicion glinted in his eye, but moments later his face broke into a wide smile.

"Oh ho! Felt! Who did you bring here? A new sucker or... a customer?" his voice boomed like thunder.

"Something in between," replied Felt, pointing at Subaru. "This is Subaru. He wants to offload some stuff. But be nice to him... because he seems a bit cracked." She shot a glance at Mr. Szop.

"Nice to meet you!" Subaru tried to smile, raising his hand in greeting.

Rom laughed with a low, rumbling chuckle.

"Weirdos always have the best trinkets. Come on in!" he said, stepping aside to let them pass.

Subaru felt the tension slowly leave his body. Maybe it won't be so bad after all?

"[TEN MINUTES LATER]

“Fuck, what a damn rare stash you’ve got…” muttered Old Rom as he examined Subaru’s items, which the young man had just spread out on a wooden table—his treasures from his homeland.

On the table lay:

• A metal canteen with a faded “U.S. Army” logo, badly dented but still watertight.

 Old Rom scratched his chin, his thick thumbs turning the canteen as if weighing gold in his hand.
“What the hell are these wonders? Did you steal them from somewhere? I’ve never seen such high-quality stuff even among the nobles.”

For a moment, Subaru searched for the right words, not wanting to reveal that his items came from a world that had met its end...

“Let’s just say I came across a very… forgotten place full of such junk,” he said with a faint smile. “You know how it is. I travel here and there and find treasures like these.”

Even though Mr. Raccoon remained motionless, in Subaru’s mind he was rolling his eyes.

“Ha, a forgotten place! You’re good, Mr. Baru! Tell him, too, that you found a fallout shelter with a fridge full of beer!” mocked Mr. Raccoon.

Subaru merely cleared his throat, trying not to reply aloud—a response that only drew further worried glances from Emilia and Felt.

A brief pause ensued before Subaru continued the inventory:

• A package of military MRE rations, wrapped in foil, with a label suggesting that the “Chicken Pasta” hadn’t expired in these 10 years yet.
• A rusty, yet still functional multitool with a folding knife, screwdrivers, and pliers.
• A battery-powered camping lamp, showing only light signs of wear.
• A plastic pack of “Stormproof” matches—waterproof and windproof.
• Several cans with dented sides but intact lids, labeled “Beef Stew” and “Pork & Beans.”
• A silver Zippo lighter with an engraved image of a fox and the word “Honor.”
• A dark green winter jacket with several holes that strongly resembled the marks of an animal’s bite…
• A tactical axe, slightly bloodstained…

“Work, you know,” joked Subaru nervously as Old Rom’s eyes fell upon the magazine. Old Rom, however, only shrugged; he never meddled in others’ private lives.
• A pornographic magazine…

“Wooooooow…” gasped Old Rom in amazement.

Rom fixed his eyes on the magazine as if he’d just discovered the most precious treasure hidden in the dungeons beneath the capital. His massive, calloused hand reached out gently—almost reverently—for the slightly crumpled magazine featuring a provocatively scantily clad blonde on the cover. The woman stared provocatively, and next to her flashed a garish inscription in a foreign language: “HOT & WILD – SUMMER SPECIAL!”

Rom coughed, and his cheeks—hardened by years of drinking and living in poverty—took on a slightly pink hue. Felt looked on in disapproval, while Emilia, embarrassed, averted her gaze yet couldn’t help but steal curious glances that filled her with pangs of conscience. Meanwhile, Subaru smirked; he remembered all too well how he’d found this “treasure” in an abandoned newsstand while searching for food.

“— Uhh…” Rom swallowed and carefully flipped through the pages as if holding a sacred relic. “— These… these women… are they some sort of goddesses? Like… from the Far East?”

Subaru shuddered, fighting the urge to snicker.

“Something like that…” he replied, trying to sound serious. “It’s… artistic literature from my country.”

“Artistic, you say…” Rom squinted as his eyes roamed over the photos filled with nudity and suggestive poses. “I’ve never seen art like this… Fuck, kid, that’s a real treasure!”

“Ugh, grandpa, really?” snapped Felt, crossing her arms. “What, is it the first time you’re seeing a woman?”

“Shut up, snot-nose!” growled Rom, tucking the magazine under his elbow as if afraid someone might steal it. “You don’t understand… this… this is a masterpiece of culture!”

Subaru nearly choked on his laughter before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Emilia, however, looked increasingly flustered, her cheeks blooming red like ripe apples.

“Subaru… is this… is this really art?” she asked quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“Ahem…” Subaru tensed. “In a sense… for some, it’s… very culturally valuable.”

In his mind, Mr. Raccoon added in a low whisper, “Oh ho, now you’ve stepped onto slippery ground. Explain it further, Professor of Art…”

Rom mumbled something indistinctly, then picked up the MRE ration and weighed it in his hand.

“This is food?” the giant asked uncertainly.

“Yes, long-term food,” nodded Subaru. “It doesn’t spoil for years.”

Rom looked at Subaru in disbelief, then at Felt as if seeking confirmation—but the girl merely shrugged.

“Strange, but it looks solid,” Old Rom conceded with a slight nod. “After all…”

“Oh, I can add one more thing,” sighed Subaru, pulling a bottle of vodka from his backpack.

Rom squinted at the transparent bottle with its simple label and inscription in a language foreign to him. The liquid inside was crystal clear.

“— What the hell is this crap?” he muttered suspiciously, taking the bottle in his large hands.

“It’s vodka. Alcohol. Strong stuff,” explained Subaru with a slightly proud smile. “Perfect for warming up or forgetting a hard day.”

Rom raised his eyebrows while Felt looked on with curiosity.

“Vodka? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Subaru spread his hands. “— Believe me, it’s every person’s best friend after a long day… or after the apocalypse.”

In a quiet thought, Mr. Raccoon added, “And the worst enemy in the morning.”

Rom unscrewed the bottle, brought it to his nose, and took a deep sniff. Then he grimaced, as if he’d been punched in the face.

“Ugh! What a stench!” he declared, twisting his mouth, but after a moment he licked his lips. “— But you can really feel its strength.”

Subaru raised a finger. “— First you’ll feel hell, and then heaven.”

Rom snorted with laughter.

“Alright, kid, let’s see.”

He pressed the bottle to his lips and took a hearty swig. For a moment his face remained impassive, but then his eyes widened and his mighty torso trembled. He choked slightly, yet instead of complaining he burst into booming laughter.

“HA! BURNIIIIII! Like fire! But… fuck, that’s good!”

Emilia covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to snicker, while Felt broke into unabashed laughter.

“Grandpa, you’re gonna burn up from the inside soon!”

Rom waved his hand and took another swig—this time deliberately—choking less.

“That’s strong stuff, kid… But I’ll tell you, this is first-class goods! Where the hell do you get things like this?!”

Subaru shrugged. “— Let’s just say I’ve had… unusual contacts.”

Rom wiped his mouth, and a new spark of sympathy lit in his eyes as he said, “— You know what, kid? I already like you.”

Subaru exhaled in relief. “— Likewise.”

In a biting inner whisper, Mr. Raccoon mused, “That’s how you win allies… a bottle for peace.”

Subaru smiled to himself. Maybe, even though the world was different, the rules of survival changed little. Alcohol, food, trade—these always brought people together.

“So… what now? How about one more shot?” suggested Subaru.

Rom looked at him, amused.

“We don’t have shot glasses, kid. Here we drink straight from the bottle!” laughed the giant, downing the entire bottle.

“My congratulations,” Subaru clapped his hands, truly impressed. “But back to business…” He turned to the girls. “So, your story… Felt, you stole something from Emilia, right?”

“Well, that’s just street life,” laughed Felt, though Emilia shot her an angry look.

“And you, Emilia, you want it back, right?” asked Subaru, to which Emilia nodded.

“Okay!” Emilia clapped her hands. “I have a brilliant idea!” she declared, pointing at Felt. “I’ll buy back from you what you stole in exchange for my goods!”

Felt raised her eyebrows, giving Subaru a look full of suspicion.

“You’re buying it back? Seriously? And what do I get out of it?” she demanded as she glanced at Old Rom. “Is it really worth trading with him? Tell us, old man, how much is it worth?”

Meanwhile, Rom cradled the magazine like a relic, caressing it as if afraid it might dissolve at any moment.

“Kid… how much do you want for it?” he suddenly asked in a serious tone, as if negotiating a peace treaty.

Subaru scratched his head. “I don’t know… it’s rather… exclusive goods,” he said with a sly smile. “Maybe you’ll throw in something extra to our deal?”

“Hmmm…” Old Rom stroked his chin. “Let’s say 50 holy coins?” he proposed, nodding with a slight blush.

…

…

…

…

…

Felt stared wide-eyed, as if Rom had just announced he’d trade his entire fortune for a handful of pebbles.

“— Fifty… holy coins?!” her voice leaped an octave before she repeated it more softly, almost reverently, “Fifty…”

Subaru nearly choked on his own saliva. He didn’t know the exact value of the local currency, but judging by Felt’s reaction, it must be something serious.

“Wait, wait!” she exclaimed, waving her hands as she stepped closer to Subaru. “You… you seriously want to give me all that just to get back that stupid emblem for that…” she glanced at Emilia, who straightened up with pride, “noblewoman?”

Subaru just shrugged with a smile. “— Yes, seriously. Call it… an investment in our future.”

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

For a moment, Felt seemed to battle with her own mind. Her gaze jumped from Subaru to the pile of his items, then to Rom clutching the magazine like a sacred artifact, and finally to Emilia, who looked just as surprised as she did.

Then, something inside her snapped.

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!” she shrieked as she lunged at Subaru, laughing loudly. She grabbed him by the neck and began enthusiastically kissing his cheeks. Her small arms wrapped tightly around him, and he caught a whiff of dust and a slight sweat—so typical of street life. Yet there was also a childlike joy in her embrace that Subaru hadn’t expected.

“Oh ho ho, looks like someone just hit the jackpot!” boomed Old Rom, chuckling.

“Hey, hey, calm down!” Subaru tried to break free, but Felt clung to him like a burr on a dog. “You don’t have to smother me with gratitude!”

“I do! Because you have no idea how much food I can buy with that! And a home! And… damn, even a new jacket!” she squealed, still hugging him tightly.

Emilia, who had been initially astonished—was someone really willing to pay for her?—remembered that it had been ages since anyone had known such a person… ever since Puck disappeared…

“You want to pay for me?” Emilia asked softly, looking at him uncertainly.

“Well… yes.” Subaru scratched his neck, feeling her gaze. “I mean, I’d have to trade something anyway to get some start-up cash, so… I’ll kill two birds with one stone. You’ll get your amulet back, Felt will get something that pleases her, and I… well, I’ll be able to sleep peacefully knowing I did something good.”

Emilia was silent for a moment before smiling gently. “— That’s very kind, Subaru.”

“Alright, alright!” Subaru finally gently pushed Felt aside. “So, do we have a deal?”

The girl nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Sure, I’m on it!” she declared, dashing off to a corner of the room and rummaging through… a rather curious spot for an emblem bearing the image of a dragon. It even began to glow with a soft light…

“Well, there you go,” he said with satisfaction. “Business is the key to success.”

“And I’ll tell you, kid, you’re sharp,” added Rom, drinking the rest of the vodka straight from the bottle. “You’ve got a knack for trading. And maybe with women too…”

Felt smacked Subaru on the side. “Don’t go thinking that means anything!” she huffed, then burst into laughter. “But you’re alright, kid.”

Subaru just smiled. Perhaps for the first time in a long while, he felt that something had truly gone right for him.

“Thank you, Subaru,” Emilia said with a kind smile as she took the emblem in her hand.

Subaru waved dismissively. “No problem. We’re a team, right?”

Mr. Raccoon immediately chimed in, “A team? Kid, you’ve been alone for too long. Are you already trying to start a family?”

…

…

…

“Uh… I m-mean, s-sorry…” Mr. Raccoon realized a bit too late that he’d crossed a line.

Subaru didn’t reply to his jabs—he just smiled.

Mr. Raccoon silently prayed for rescue, for that smile didn’t bode well.

“WHAT?!” Emilia exclaimed in surprise, blinking slowly at Felt. “Wait… Felt, could you hold the emblem for a moment?”

“Hm?” Felt raised her eyebrows slightly. “Sure,” she said with a shrug, taking the emblem—which now glowed faintly.

“Oh shit…” Emilia cursed for the first time, her eyes widening.

Subaru raised his eyebrows slightly but just shrugged. He had cursed his whole life—whether fleeing hordes or fighting them. Nothing new.

“Felt, you are…” Emilia said, looking at her, “the last candidate for the throne.”

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

“What the fuck?” Felt looked at her in astonishment.

KNOCK

KNOCK

“Am I disturbing you?” came a female voice from outside at the door. “I’m here for the goods…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” muttered Old Rom as he approached the door. “Welcome, Lady Elsa.”

“Good day,” murmured a woman with black hair and a coquettish smile, dressed in a black dress...

And...
And...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

21 Days After the Fall (August 25, 1993, Wednesday)

In an abandoned high school, a young, black-haired boy wearing a simple jacket and a baseball cap wandered through bloodstained corridors. On his back he carried a sports bag, and in his hands he held a baseball bat, its surface stained red with blood.

"I hope there’s something worthwhile here..." he muttered gloomily, checking the bodies of the unfortunate students one by one—the poor bastards. "Damn brats, why didn’t they run home?" he sighed, noticing that almost none of the students had defended themselves... "They were probably caught by surprise, huh?" he snorted.

"Jesus Christ, how many bodies..." murmured Subaru with disgust, pulling his sleeve over his nose. He wasn’t mistaken. There were far too many bodies in the corridor…
Too many bodies…

Usually they were students, but he also noticed two bodies of teachers he’d found in the restroom, posed in a rather... compromising manner.
"I don’t blame them—everyone wants to seize their final moments," Subaru chuckled as he moved on. "But I do feel sorry, looking at the state of their bodies..." he sighed. "They were probably infected—got themselves contaminated when the professor was 'humping' the teacher," he coughed awkwardly. "Their fate is so tragic..."

"Classroom barricaded..." he muttered, frowning as he noticed that one room had been blocked off from the outside with chairs and tables hastily thrown together.
"Oh man..." he murmured, stroking his forehead. "Why couldn’t we have doors like in those Western movies? At least a barricade would have been a lot more sensible..." he said, pushing one of the chairs with his bat.

BATUM!

The chairs and tables toppled easily, revealing an empty classroom filled with the naked bodies of students...
And did it seem to him that all the bodies were headless?

"You know what? Fuck it, I’m not going in there," muttered Subaru awkwardly, and he walked on.

Quickly distancing himself from the macabre room, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. In a world where every day meant a fight for survival, he had seen his share of horrors—but this? This was different. Too deliberate. Too... sick.

He continued along the silent, lifeless corridors, straining to catch the faintest sounds. And then he heard it.

A quiet, melancholy melody resonated from deep within the building. In this world, sound meant death. Everyone knew that silence was an ally, and noise an open invitation to the starving undead.
And yet, someone was playing.

Will you ever return to me?
Hear my voice singing among the waves
My love will never perish

Over the waves and deep in the blue
I will give you my heart
I will wait until ten long years pass
My love will never perish

Come, my darling, unite with the sea
Reign with me for eternity
Drown all your dreams so mercilessly
And leave their souls to me

Clutching his bat even tighter, Subaru cautiously moved toward the source of the sound. His heart pounded faster. He was torn—reason screamed at him to turn back, but curiosity drove him forward.

"Get out, get out, you idiot! Where are you going?" he whispered to himself, trying to convince himself to run.
But what if there was a survivor there? he thought hopefully. He hadn’t spoken to another person in such a long time...
Slowly, he was really losing it...
Ha! Soon he’d probably be chatting with stuffed animals, right? he snorted in his mind, shaking his head. Not in this lifetime...

He reached the door of the teachers’ lounge. Through the slightly ajar door, he saw a scene that would be etched into his memory forever.

"Oh fuck..." muttered Subaru softly.

A black-haired girl in a bloodstained school uniform sat at a table. She had long, black hair reaching down to her knees and dark brown eyes. She wore an academy uniform consisting of a short blue blazer, a button-up shirt in off-white, and a skirt matching the blazer’s blue. A red tie adorned the shirt, and she wore stockings with black shoes.

Subaru quickly noticed a bite mark on her wrist...
Her entire face was smeared with blood, and her gaze was empty...

In front of her lay the severed heads of teachers, arranged neatly in a row like macabre trophies. She gently ran a finger over their dead faces, humming that mournful melody whose notes filled the room.

"And who are you?" asked the principal.

"That I have to bow so low?"
"Just a fox in different fur.
That’s the whole truth I know.
In a ruby cloak or a white one,
A fox still has its teeth,
And mine are long and sharp, my pupil—
As long and sharp as yours."

And so spoke the Academy’s director.
But now the rain weeps over his house, and there is no one to hear him.
Yes, now the rain weeps over his house, and there is no one to hear him.

"Crazy..." murmured Subaru quietly, shaking his head. This was the best time to leave!
But... Subaru glanced at the shelves where bags of food supplies and medicine were stored...
And a hunting rifle... with a box of ammunition...

Her face was calm, almost lost in a trance. Subaru felt his hands tremble. She wasn’t just any survivor. She was a predator in human skin.

He took a step back, trying not to make a sound.
"No, it’s not worth sacrificing myself!" he muttered, shaking his head. "Next time I’ll go to the police station and find some weapons there..."
But there are too many infected... Subaru conceded.

"You see me, don’t you?" came a quiet, melodious voice from the girl.

Subaru’s heart froze.
Oh no... no, no, no...

Slowly, she raised her head and looked straight at him. Her eyes were lifeless—as if she had long since abandoned her humanity. A slight smile played on her face—too calm, too deranged.

"Has someone once again gotten in my way?" she asked, scratching her cheek with a slight smile.
"People often behave like little birds," she murmured slowly, drawing the handle of a katana from behind her. "Just like little birds, they’re meant to be attacked by hawks and eagles soaring high in the sky, yet they never notice it."

Subaru felt his heart beat even faster. The girl before him exuded a disturbing calm, and her words were soaked in madness. Still, he tried to reach out to her.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he said softly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "We can get out of here together, find a safe place."

But she only chuckled, shaking her head.

"For me, it’s already too late," she replied with a smile, raising the hand marked with a bite on her wrist. "So many of my enemies have blocked my way..." she murmured, looking at her hand. "I’ve spilled so much blood... another flower whispers 'please'," she intoned impassively as she regarded the young man’s face.

"C-could we work something out?" Subaru whimpered uncertainly. "You see?" he said, pointing to the bag on his back. "I’ve got cans of fruit, bottles of water, and bandages soaked in alcohol," he muttered. "I can help you, if you want. Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "I can give you all my water from the big canisters—at least you’ll be able to bathe and wipe off that blood..."

"You’re quite an interesting boy..." the girl murmured, a slight glimmer lighting her eyes. "A hero—your hope still flickers..." she whispered, slowly stepping toward Subaru. "No one. No one has come," she declared with a firmness and a deeply unsettling voice.

"Never again will someone who could tame me come here," she said, gesturing toward the dead heads of the teachers. "I can hear the clatter of bones from your fear..."

"But you... perhaps you want to dance with me?" she said, looking at him with a spark in her eyes. "When the world slowly loses its spark... shall we dance the last ball?" With a swift movement, she drew her katana from its sheath; the blade glinted in the dim light, aimed straight at Subaru.

The boy stepped back, raising his baseball bat in a defensive gesture.
"I don’t want to fight," he said firmly. "I’m only looking for supplies and a safe haven."

The girl tilted her head, her smile widening. "Safety? In this world?" she laughed bitterly. "There are no safe places anymore," her eyes flashed with a bloodlust. "There are only predators and prey," she said, straightening up and assuming a fighting stance. "But don’t worry... I'll make you a fine tombstone. At least, that's what an 'interesting' boy like you deserves."

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Subaru slowly caught his breath, standing upright. He clutched his chest as he swallowed heavy breaths.

"Subaru?" Emilia asked with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Emilia..." Subaru gritted his teeth, pulling a clock with an attached explosive charge from his backpack. "On my signal, you hide behind the table, alright?" he said to her, hastily winding the clock.

"W-what?" the girl stammered uncertainly, looking at him.

"Do you trust me?" Subaru asked, a worrying firmness in his eyes. "Emilia, do you trust me?"

"Y-yes..." Emilia slowly nodded her head. "I... I trust you..." she sighed, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.

In moments like these, she really missed Puck...

"Good," he nodded slowly and solemnly, watching as Old Man Rom spoke with that... woman.

"LAUGH! LAUGH! AS BLOOD FLOWS THROUGH OUR VEINS! I WANT TO SEE YOU! FIGHT AND DIE! FIGHT OR DIE!!"

"History tends to repeat itself, doesn't it, boy?" Mr. Raccoon chuckled grimly.

Subaru didn't respond; he had to be sure. His instinct might not have been wrong, but...

He had to be certain it was the same 'predator'...

He had to be sure...

"Hm?" The black-haired beauty noticed the boy's rather stern gaze. "And who might you be, boy?"

"Oh, that's your rival, young lady," Old Man Rom laughed. "Well, not a rival anymore; he's the one who bought your 'goods.'"

"I see..." She furrowed her brows slightly with interest. "That look... Do you already know what's about to happen?" she asked curiously, crossing her arms.

"You could say that..." Subaru shrugged with a crooked smile, stepping closer to her. "I met someone like you once..."

"I see..." she nodded with a smile of her own. "This will be interesting... especially since you managed to survive..." she stroked her chin.

"Regardless..." Subaru muttered, observing her. "It seems your boss really wanted to brutally murder all of us, huh?" he smirked, looking at her with a gleam in his eye.

"WHAT?!" Felt shouted, stepping away from the woman. "H-how do you know?"

"Felt, stay away from her," Old Man Rom murmured, gripping his club in his hands. "I knew something was off about her..."

Now it was the black-haired woman's turn to be surprised, though she quickly regained her composure. "How do you know?" She didn't immediately attack to slit the bearded man's throat; she was curious about him. Of course, she knew the boss asked for zero witnesses, but still...

She saw something in this man...

That fire in his eyes...

Was he like her?

Empty inside?

"You just told me," Subaru chuckled, snapping his fingers. "Believe me, I've met people like you..." he snorted. "Predators, so to speak," he sneered, pulling a steel knife from his pocket. "I'm getting too old for this crap..."

Elsa laughed quietly, with the same unsettling ease as before. Her eyes sparkled with wild excitement.

"Oh, how delightful to meet someone who understands..." she said softly. "Predators... Indeed, that is what we are. And those like us always recognize each other, right?"

Subaru didn't respond, but his hand tightened around the hunting knife's handle. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"Subaru..." Emilia repeated her question in a whisper, her voice tense. "What is happening?"

"It'll be fine," he threw over his shoulder, looking into Elsa's eyes with determination. "Just stick to the plan."

Elsa tilted her head, her long black hair dancing in the air. She drew her curved blade, and the light reflected off its edge in a way that sent shivers down Subaru's spine.

"Will you dance with me?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Gladly," Subaru smiled confidently, slightly confusing Elsa. "I wouldn't refuse such a beautiful lady..." He raised his knife, taking a firm, determined stance. "But fair warning, I'm terrible with steps."

"Interesting..." she murmured, intrigued by his reaction. "Oh, don't worry," Elsa laughed. "I'll lead..." she dashed forward. "All the way to death!"

She lunged at him with lightning speed. Subaru, with the practiced precision of years of survival, managed to raise his knife to parry the first strike. Metal clashed against metal, ringing sharply in the cramped room.

"Good..." he nodded, stepping back. "You've got a nice rhythm..." he sighed, watching her calmly. "Now it's my turn."

He attacked instinctively, aiming for her shoulder, but Elsa gracefully dodged his strike as if predicting his movement. Or so she thought—until she felt a sharp pain as her cheek was sliced.

Elsa murmured, impressed, touching her cheek, feeling how deeply the knife had cut. "Interesting..." And within seconds, the wound healed itself.

"It's always the same with you lot..." Subaru shook his head, sighing. "You focus on one certain thing, unable to see the bigger picture."

"Bigger picture?" Elsa repeated, licking the blood from her fingers. Her eyes sparkled, and a wide, almost predatory smile appeared on her face. "I think I'm starting to like you, boy."

Subaru knew that smile meant only one thing—the real hell was just beginning.

"Come on, show me more of your picture!" she growled, lunging again. Her blade danced in the air, bringing death and chaos.

Subaru balanced on the edge of life and death, parrying blows and making swift dodges. Every move he made was the result of years of fighting to survive in a world where one mistake meant the end. He was no longer that naive boy who leached off his parents, that shut-in idiot.

Now he was someone else—a survivor of the apocalypse, a veteran who had seen the world crumble before his eyes and lived through it all.

He had too much blood on his hands...

His sins would never disappear...

Their blades clashed repeatedly, sparks flying in the air. The same wildness burned in their eyes—two people who had long since crossed the line between humanity and brutal survival instinct.

"Heh... You feel it, right?" Subaru rasped, leaping back after another clash. Sweat dripped down his face, but he felt that familiar thrill—that blend of fear, adrenaline, and pure will to live.

Elsa laughed quietly, almost dreamily. "Yes... Blood dancing on the skin... A body fighting to its last breath..." she whispered. "You understand..." she said with a gleam in her eyes. "Tell me, who are you?"

Their gazes met. For a brief moment, they both felt they were the same—two souls who had touched hell and returned, though from different worlds.

But only one of them would walk out alive.

"My name is Natsuki Subaru," Subaru charged forward, his knife slicing through the air, and Elsa dodged with grace again—but this time, Subaru was ready.

"And I am the last survivor!" He shifted his attack at the last moment, his blade sinking into her shoulder.

"Gh...!" Elsa growled, but instead of anger, her eyes burned with even greater ecstasy. "Beautiful... More, show me more!"

Subaru gritted his teeth. He knew this wouldn't be a quick fight. They had both entered the battle trance—this was more than a fight for survival. It was a confrontation of predators, for whom death was an everyday occurrence.

Their bodies moved instinctively, in a rhythm only they understood. Every cut, every parry, every dodge—it was like a dark dance of death.

“Fuck...” Subaru cursed as Elsa managed to slice his arm. It made no impression on the bearded man, who continued “dancing” with her.

Felt and Emilia watched in horror, unable to look away. Even Old Rom was silent, clutching his mace, ready to intervene if necessary.

But now, this was their fight. Subaru and Elsa.

“Subaru...!” Emilia tried to say something, but Rom simply placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t interfere, girl,” his voice was quiet, serious. “He’s fighting on the edge of life and death now. You don’t interrupt that...” He shook his head, his eyes filled with memories. “Never.”

Subaru felt every muscle in his body working at its limit. He felt the burning in his wounds, blood seeping from the cut on his side, but it was nothing compared to what he felt in his heart.

This was freedom.

Fighting with someone who understood. Who looked death in the eyes and smiled.

But Subaru knew there was one thing that set them apart.

He wasn’t fighting for blood. He was fighting to survive. He was fighting to laugh in death’s face!

“That’s why I’ll lose if I fight like you...” he whispered to himself, dodging another slash. “You, a hollow puppet of fate...” he gritted his teeth in frustration.

Elsa looked at him questioningly, but at that moment, Subaru surged forward, ignoring the pain. He used his body as a shield, allowing Elsa’s blade to graze his arm, but in return...

“Take this!” he shouted, driving a knife into her stomach.

Elsa froze. Their faces were now close together. Subaru looked straight into her eyes, seeing surprise, but also... admiration.

“Beautiful...” she whispered, choking on blood. “Truly... beautiful...” She laughed. “But it’s a shame you didn’t have the worth...” she murmured, showing how her wounds were healing.

“Relax...” Subaru chuckled, looking into her eyes. “I met person, infected like you a long, long time ago in the underground labs of a certain pharmaceutical company...” he sighed, not breaking eye contact. “I know an easy way to deal with your kind.”

“What is it?” she tilted her head innocently, excitement in her eyes.

BEEP

BEEP

“This.” Subaru pulled a small alarm clock from his uniform pocket and tossed it straight at the assassin’s face. He quickly retreated toward the table. “Emilia! Signal!”

Emilia reacted immediately, grabbing Felt and Old Rom by the hands, while Subaru threw himself under the table with them, shielding them with his body.

Elsa, surprised, instinctively caught the clock, glancing at it with slight confusion.

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

Her eyes widened in the final second.

BOOM!

The explosion shook the inside of the shack, sending wooden and metal fragments in all directions. Dust and smoke filled the air, and the blast drowned out everything around. The table they hid under withstood the explosion’s force, though part of its edges was shredded by the debris.

Subaru felt burning on his back – he must have taken some splinters – but it didn’t matter now.

“Everyone okay?!” he choked out, coughing from the smoke.

“I think so...” Emilia replied, also coughing. Felt curled up beside her, while Old Rom shielded her with his massive body.

Subaru peeked over the table, straining his eyes through the smoke. His heart pounded like crazy.

“No... it can’t be that easy...” he muttered under his breath.

He was right.

“I think I’m really starting to adore you...” a melodic, raspy voice reached them.

Out of the smoke emerged Elsa – tattered, burned, with a piece of wood sticking out of her shoulder. Blood streamed down her face, but her smile was wider than ever. And the worst part – her wounds began to heal again.

Subaru froze.

“Shit...” he whispered. “She really is a monster...” he smiled.

“Exactly,” agreed Mr. Raccoon. “Kick her ass!”

“But...” Emilia squeaked in disbelief. “How is she...?”

“Fuck... regeneration on a Leech level...” Subaru drew his knife, though he knew he was screwed.

Leech – Class 3 infected classification. Recommended tactics: fire, explosives. Upon contact, stealth advised, avoid fighting in enclosed spaces.

WHOOSH

“And fast as a cheetah!” Subaru laughed, blocking her strike. He pushed her away, and both staggered backward. Elsa clutched her wound but was still smiling.

“You’re still alive...” Subaru panted, clutching his bloody arm. “Damn... What a woman...” he whistled in admiration.

Elsa slowly straightened, though her legs trembled slightly.

“This... isn’t over yet...” she rasped. “But... it’s been a long time since I truly felt alive...”

Subaru grinned crookedly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I feel the same... But you know what?”

Elsa looked at him questioningly.

“I plan to grow old...” Subaru said firmly. “Far away from people like you.”

Their eyes met again. They both knew this fight wasn’t over. But they both felt that something had changed.

This was no longer just a fight to the death. This was a fight to survive.

Predator versus predator.

And the blood still flowed...

Subaru gritted his teeth, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins like never before. He looked into Elsa’s eyes – black, gleaming like an abyss holding the promise of death. But he knew that abyss. He had stared it in the face many times.

Survival.

The only thing that mattered.

“Let’s dance until the end...” he rasped, taking a defensive stance.

Elsa licked her lips, her smile full of ecstasy.

“Until death, darling...”

THEY MOVED.

Blades sliced through the air. Subaru dodged the first slash, but Elsa adjusted her trajectory mid-flight. The blade tore through his side. Blood gushed out in a stream, soaking his shirt. The pain was sharp but familiar—it reminded him of that day in the underground, fighting for the last can of food.

Don't stop.

He spun on his axis, avoiding another strike. Using the momentum, he thrust his knife toward Elsa in a swift motion. He hit the mark. The blade sank into her hip. Warm blood trickled down his hand.

Elsa groaned, but instead of pain, there was delight in her eyes.

"Yes... more...!" she whispered.

Subaru stepped back, knowing this was only the beginning. Elsa sprang up again; her movements were fluid, as though pain didn't exist. Her blade sliced his forearm, tearing the skin. Subaru hissed, but his grip on the knife tightened even more.

Emptiness versus the will to survive.

This was no ordinary fight. It was a clash of two worlds. Elsa—a beast whose life revolved around killing. Subaru—a man who had seen the end of everything and refused to die.

"Subaru...!" Emilia's voice felt distant, like an echo from another reality.

He was somewhere else now. He was back in the ruins of his old home, with a knife driven into the chest of his neighbor who had turned into a damned infected. He was among the bodies of his friends, the ones he hadn't managed to save. He was there, where every breath was a victory.

And now... he was here.

"I won't die..." he growled, parrying another strike. Their blades clashed with a metallic screech. "Never again...!"

Elsa laughed, but there was something new in her eyes. Something Subaru didn't expect. Not just excitement.

Respect.

There was respect for her opponent in her gaze.

In all those years, she had never faced someone like him!

"Good... good...!" she hissed. "You're so beautiful...! Show me how much you want to live!"

Subaru jumped back, but Elsa was fast. Her blade slashed his cheek, and blood filled his eye. The pain burned, but Subaru grinned through clenched teeth.

"Is that all you've got...?" he rasped, tossing his blood-soaked hair from his forehead. "I thought you were better!"

Elsa lunged at him. Subaru fell onto his back, but intentionally—he used his own blood on the floor to slide and slip beneath her legs. He drove his knife into her calf to the hilt.

"Agh!" Elsa hissed, dropping to one knee.

Subaru rolled away and stood up, wobbling. He breathed heavily, his chest rising like that of a wild animal.

Both were wounded. Both were bleeding.

But Subaru saw the difference. His body was slowly giving out. He had lost too much blood. In his world, that meant death.

But Elsa... she was still regenerating.

"Fucking... monsters..." he muttered under his breath.

Elsa stood up, though her leg was still shaky. She grabbed the knife in her calf and slowly pulled it out with a lustful moan.

"Ah... it's wonderful..." she sighed. "You're hurting me so much...!"

Subaru clenched his fists.

She feeds on this.

He understood. Elsa wasn't fighting to survive. She was emptiness. She fought because it was her only joy. Pain. Blood. Death.

But Subaru... he fought because he wanted to live. He wanted to see another day.

"I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?" a new voice spoke up. Everyone turned to see a red-haired young man in a white suit.

"Huh?" Elsa murmured slowly. "And our..." she spat blood from her mouth. "Holy Knight, is it?"

"Precisely, in my own person," he nodded with a polite smile. "My name is Reinhard van Astrea, Holy Knight," he bowed slightly.

Elsa, despite the pain, narrowed her eyes and examined him carefully. Subaru felt the tension in the air shift. Like someone had pressed pause on their deadly dance.

Reinhard.

Subaru had heard that name. From guards and passersby...

And now, seeing him with his own eyes, he understood why everyone spoke of him with such respect, and sometimes even fear.

Red hair. Impeccable attire. Calmness, as if all this chaos didn't concern him at all.

"Oh, and now what?" Elsa grinned predatorily, but Subaru saw that she was tense. Different than before. "You want to interrupt my fun? It was just getting really exciting..."

Reinhard approached slowly, his hand resting lightly on his sword's hilt.

"Forgive me, but I'm afraid your game is over," he looked at Subaru and nodded. "You fought well. Very well."

"She regenerates..." Subaru croaked. "She won't stop. Never..."

Reinhard smiled gently. "I know," he looked at Elsa. "I know who you are, Bowel Hunter."

Elsa licked her lips, but her eyes were as watchful as a wounded wolf's. She knew. She knew this was someone she couldn't underestimate.

"What an honor..." she said slowly. "But you know, Reinhard... I'm not someone who simply surrenders..."

"Indeed," Reinhard nodded. "But I am not someone you can disregard."

In a fraction of a second, the world exploded into motion.

Elsa lunged at Reinhard, her blade flashed like a shadow of death. But Reinhard didn't even flinch. His sword slid from its sheath with a sound resembling a song of steel. Subaru barely saw it—a strike, a slash, air cut with unbelievable precision.

Blood.

Elsa halted suddenly, eyes wide open. She stood still as if she didn't understand what had happened.

Then she looked down.

Her abdomen was slashed diagonally. Not superficially—deeply. Subaru felt nauseous. He saw her insides slowly spilling out. Elsa stepped back shakily.

"Ah..." Her voice was no longer full of ecstasy. It was quiet. Surprised. "You... really..."

Reinhard stood still, his sword clean. As if that slash was something natural, trivial.

"Do you surrender?" he asked calmly.

Elsa coughed up blood. She looked at Subaru—her eyes were different now than during the whole fight. There was still that shadow of admiration, but now... resignation had joined it.

"Subaru..." she whispered. "You were... beautiful..."

Then she turned. She vanished into the shadows, leaving only a trail of blood. Reinhard didn't even try to chase her.

Subaru fell to his knees. Everything that had kept him standing gave way. He felt his hands trembling, his body screaming in pain.

But he was alive.

He survived.

"Subaru!" Emilia ran up, kneeling beside him and grabbing his hands. "You're okay...!"

Felt looked at Reinhard, still holding her dagger, but her eyes were full of shock. Rom leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, his face pale.

"You did well," Reinhard placed a hand on Subaru's shoulder. "You're stronger than you think."

Subaru looked at him. He wanted to say something, but only laughed. Nervously, with relief, from exhaustion.

"Heh... fucking world..." he muttered. "Thank you very much, Mr. Knight," Subaru bowed slightly.

"Did you see that?!" Mr. Raccoon squeaked excitedly. "There was BOOM! Big awesome boom! Jesus, I've never seen anything like that!"

"Hm?" Reinhard's eyes widened slightly as he noticed the plush toy hanging from Subaru's backpack. "Spiffo?"

...

...

...

...

...

Subaru looked confused, just like Mr. Raccoon.

"Huh?" the boy blurted out.

Mr. Raccoon tilted his head. "Spiffo? Who the hell is Spiffo?"

Reinhard, still with that polite but slightly too-perfect face, cleared his throat quietly.

"Hm, forgive me... I wasn't expecting... I mean..." he pointed at the mascot. "That's the symbol of a... legendary figure. I didn't think I'd see something like that here, in Lugunica."

Subaru raised an eyebrow. "Wait, wait... Legendary? Sir Reinhard, that's just a raccoon plushie..."

"Hey!" Mr. Raccoon objected. "Not 'just'! I'm a unique collector's model!"

Reinhard smiled slightly, as if amused. "I know. And that's exactly why..." he looked Subaru straight in the eyes, "...you should come with me. You and... Mr. Raccoon."

Subaru opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. He looked at Emilia, Felt, and Rom. They were battered but alive. They had survived. But now, with the adrenaline fading, he felt he had stumbled into something far bigger.

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

Reinhard sheathed his sword, but his face grew serious.

"There are things I can't explain here, on the spot. But the fact that you have Spiffo with you... It's no coincidence. It's a sign." For a moment, his eyes seemed... harder. "I can promise you that you'll be safe. You and your friends. But you must trust me."

Subaru glanced at Mr. Raccoon. "Uh... Did I just become some kind of chosen one because of you?" he whispered.

"Heh, maybe." Mr. Raccoon seemed surprisingly pleased. "But you know what? I like it."

Subaru sighed.

"Okay... But only if you tell me one day what the hell 'legendary Spiffo' means."

Reinhard chuckled quietly. "Deal."

"Wait, wait, wait..." Felt spoke up, standing between them. "You're telling me the holy knight came here because of that mascot?" She pointed at the plushie.

"HEY! FUCK YOU!" Mr. Raccoon tried to flip her off, but he was a plushie, an inanimate object.

"It's... complicated..." Reinhard muttered uncertainly.

"Bullshit!" Felt growled, crossing her arms.

Subaru scratched his head, still barely processing after all the carnage. He opened his mouth to say something, but only sighed, spreading his arms.

"So... You're telling me that Reinhard van Astrea, Holy Knight, walking legend, a man who could probably slice a mountain in half and start a fire with his gaze, just declared that I need to go with him because..." he pointed at the mascot, "...because I have a raccoon plushie on my backpack?"

Reinhard cleared his throat, straightening up even more, if that was possible.

"Yes." His seriousness could halt a war.

Subaru looked at Emilia. She blinked a few times, as if trying to piece together what she had just heard.

"Subaru... You... What is that mascot?" she asked cautiously.

"A mascot of national importance," Reinhard emphasized.

Felt grabbed her head.

"I can't believe I almost died today to witness THIS..."

Rom, who had been breathing heavily the whole time, now let out a raspy laugh.

"Hehehe... Boy... You have a gift for attracting the weirdest things..."

Subaru collapsed onto a chair, feeling that life would never be normal again.

"So, what now? Are you taking me to some holy knight headquarters and putting me on a pedestal as 'The Chosen of Spiffo'?" he asked sarcastically.

Reinhard scratched the back of his neck. "No... Or at least... I don't think so." For a moment, he looked like he didn't understand what he had gotten himself into. "It's more... procedures... You know, security issues, magic, prophecies, curses, raccoons... Different things."

Subaru covered his face with his hand. "Magic, prophecies, curses, and raccoons... That's my life now, huh?"

Mr. Raccoon laughed. "Better get used to it, loser."

Felt rolled her eyes. "And I thought the thief's life was the height of absurdity..."

"Oh, and Felt is the last royal candidate," Subaru added.

"Oh, cool," Reinhard nodded.

"WHAT?! So that doesn't shock you, but searching for a mascot around town does?!" Felt squeaked, stunned by the holy knight's logic.

"My lady." Reinhard knelt on one knee. "I ask to accompany you as your sworn knight, ensuring everything you need to compete as a worthy candidate for the throne."

"You got a house and food?" Felt crossed her arms, squinting.

"Yes..."

"Awesome!" Felt clapped her hands. "Old Man Rom, we're packing up!"

"We don't really need to. Loot House is gone..." Rom muttered blankly.

Subaru sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, not quite sure what was happening, but at least Felt and Rom had a reasonable approach to the situation.

"So, you have a house and food... Well, why not," Felt muttered, apparently giving up trying to understand what was happening around her. "In that case, Sir Knight, lead the way!"

Reinhard rose from his kneeling position and smiled slightly, as if they had just gone through some ritual that was perfectly natural to him. "Then please, follow me. The place we're talking about will ensure your safety, and I will do everything in my power to keep my promise."

Mr. Raccoon started spinning around, clearly pleased that everything had gone his... specific way.

"Spiffo is coming with you!" he declared proudly. "Don't forget my contributions!"

Subaru shook his head, but felt there was no point fighting the absurdity anymore. He looked at Emilia, who still seemed a bit dazed but was there, ready to move forward.

"What about you?" Subaru asked.

"Hm?" Emilia looked at him, surprised. "Since I got my emblem back, I'll return to the mansion..." she sighed uncertainly, averting her gaze.

Subaru frowned, seeing her hesitation. He stepped a bit closer, trying not to seem pushy, but his voice carried a note of concern.

"Well, maybe you should come with us?" he suggested. "I don't know what's really going on, but I feel like we'll have a better chance if we... sort it out together..." He trailed off, seeing how Emilia looked at him, surprised. "Sorry, maybe I said something I shouldn't..."

Emilia pondered for a moment, still avoiding his gaze, but Subaru saw his words had affected her. Finally, she sighed and turned her head, as if trying to make a decision she didn't want to make.

"You know..." she began quietly, weighing each word. "At the mansion, when Puck isn't there, it's really... not the same. Besides, after everything that's happened, I feel like I need to change something. Maybe I should go with you, Subaru."

Subaru felt a weight lift off his chest. He smiled slightly, though he still couldn't quite grasp how much everything was changing at that moment. Yet, in this one instant, he felt he wouldn't be alone in this crazy world.

"Thank you," he said softly, with a slightly nervous but genuine smile. "I think you won't regret it."

Mr. Raccoon, as usual, reacted immediately, not waiting for further conversations. "Hey! Maybe we should finally get going? Spiffo has a lot of things to do!"

"And of course, not being a nosy, you don't have to answer my question." Subaru coughed awkwardly. "Who is this 'Puck'?"

Emilia grimaced, slightly looking away with a deep grimace and an unreadable expression on her face: "It was someone close to me..."
"A..." Subaru grimaced, placing a hand on the half-elf's shoulder. "My condolences..." he whispered. "I also know the pain of losing loved ones well..." he sighed, remembering everyone he had lost.

Parents...
Friends
Neighbors...
Yuki...
Subaru sighed, trying to control his emotions. "We're moving on after all, right?" – he smiled. "Each of us has to survive to spit in the face of death, right?"

....

....

....

....

....

The black-haired girl lay on the ground, right beside a cherry blossom tree... Opposite her, a black-haired boy was sitting, panting.

"Fuck, fuck..." Subaru gasped, sitting on his knees. Right next to him lay a revolver with an open cylinder.

"I got lucky."

"Fucking lucky, asshole," the girl coughed up blood, having taken a bullet to the chest. "Congratulations."

The black-haired boy stood frozen, staring at the girl lying on the ground, clutching her wounded chest. Her breath grew shallower with each passing second, and blood was splattering around her. Her face was twisted in pain, but her eyes still held the same stubborn resolve she had always carried through their shared history. And he... he couldn't believe this was happening. Just moments ago, they had been fighting. Now she was dying, and he... he didn't know what to do.

"Why?" the boy choked out. He looked at her uncertainly. "Why?"

"You all always ask 'why,' 'for what,' or 'nooooo,'" the girl chuckled. "You're all the same... empty puppets," she muttered emotionlessly as her hand trembled, trying to stop the bleeding, but there was little she could do.

The boy was silent for a moment, picking up the revolver that had saved his skin when the girl had cut through his baseball bat.

"I didn't want this... It wasn't supposed to be like this..."

"I don't want to dream of a lie..." the girl mumbled uncertainly. "I don't want the darkness to take me..." Her eyes became wet. "I don't want to be forgotten..."

"All of this was... inevitable, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was already infected before..." she smirked. "I don't have your genetic luck, you bastard!" she laughed, though she winced in pain. "None of us were lucky..."

"But you didn't have to kill them all?!" Subaru shouted uncertainly. "Why did you do it?"

"They deserved it..." the girl laughed softly, though the pain must have been unbearable. "And what about all of us? What about what we did to each other? We're all sinners..."

The boy felt the weight of her words in his heart. He knew he wasn't innocent. In these times, everyone had to go through something brutal, destroy something to survive. Even if he hadn't wanted to, life had forced him into cruelty.

"Are you... going to apologize now?" she asked, her voice growing quieter, almost inaudible. "It's too late for apologies. Too late for everything..."

The boy leaned over her, his eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know how to fix this. I don't know what to do to... to make any of this make sense. Is there anything that can be done at all?"

"Fix... there's nothing left to fix..." she replied, her breath becoming shallower. "Just... don't forget... don't forget those who died. Remember that not everyone was guilty."

"My name is Kirukiru Amou," the girl forced out. "At least make me a nice grave right next to the other one," she pointed with a trembling finger to a gray tombstone beside the cherry tree. "At least in death, we'll be together, Nomura..." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I understand," Subaru nodded. "That's the least I can do..."

"Oh, you fox, you fox..." she laughed. "You'll meet far worse monsters on your path... If you want to survive, you need to be clever, determined, and most importantly..." she paused, taking slow breaths. "Be a bigger monster than them..."

The boy looked at her, watching as her eyes slowly closed, and her body stopped moving. He felt the weight of the moment wash over him, as though all this suffering had now become his burden to carry.

And so, in silence, their final conversation came to an end, and he was left alone, with a night full of death and a world that would never be the same.

....

....

....

....

....

To become a bigger monster than them...

"Subaru?" Emilia asked uncertainly. "Are you coming?"

"Hm?" he murmured a few times. "Oh, yeah, yeah..." he laughed nervously, following the group.

Chapter Text

The Fall…

[Young Subaru walks calmly through the streets of an abandoned city… “Hello?” he asked uncertainly, looking around. “Someone must have survived here, right?” he asked with a hint of hope, sighing.]

You are alone, child…

[“Leave me alone!” Subaru screamed in terror, jumping over fences, with hundreds of infected chasing after him. “Please! God, have mercy!! Someone! Anyone! Help me!!”]

The only thing waiting for you is darkness…

[Subaru searches an abandoned supermarket, armed only with a knife, clutching his injured arm. He looks around uncertainly, trying to spot the enemy in the darkness… he hears their moans. “Where the hell are you, you bastards?” he asked quietly, keeping his eyes wide open for any movement in the dark.]

And only Death for your people…

[“Mom… Dad…” Subaru knelt before their graves, looking at an old photo of their family with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for bringing you such shame… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”]

I command a great and terrifying army…

[“There’s too many of them,” Subaru panted, drenched in sweat, his beard wild like a Viking’s, wiping blood from his face. Dressed only in a leather jacket, modified leather gloves with additional layers, work pants, and sports shoes. The man was covered in blood, with corpses scattered all around him… dozens of corpses… hundreds of corpses… He held a modified firefighter’s axe in his hands, his face pale as more infected approached. “How many of you are there in this damn hospital?!” Subaru growled, pulling an Uzi submachine gun from his holster and aiming it at the advancing infected. “Get the hell away!!”]

And we will conquer every one of the billions of worlds…

[Subaru runs into a bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He quickly looks around the room, spotting a washing machine. He pushes it toward the door, behind which the infected’s moans and howls grow louder. “Who the hell could have known the horde would come here?” he chuckled grimly, with only a revolver by his side — and it was empty… “Where to go? Where?!” He opened the window, seeing his barn burning and his crops destroyed. “Fucking monsters,” he muttered, taking off his shirt and tearing it apart. “Need a rope, need a rope…” he repeated like a mantra, quickly tying strips of fabric together.

Crack!

CRACK!

The door was barely holding on its last hinges, thanks only to the washing machine propped against it.

“Alright then…” Subaru murmured, throwing the makeshift rope down. “Just need to attach it somewhere…”

CRACK!

“Shit!!” Subaru snarled as an infected hand grabbed his arm. “Get off me!” He struggled against the iron grip, but it was futile.

“Shit, shit…” he cursed in fear, seeing the dead eyes of the undead through the cracks in the door…]

We will conquer every light until the last spark fades…

You are strong, child…

[In a forest far from civilization, Subaru sits by a campfire, roasting sausages. Beside him is a large tent and an old camper van. It’s a cold December morning, and the man sighs as he stares into the fire. “This year was… way too shitty.”]

But I am beyond your strength…

[At a police station, Subaru struggles to reload a shotgun when an infected leaps through the window, tackling him. “Get off me!” he growled, driving a steel knife into the infected’s hollow skull.]

I am…

[Subaru looks at himself in the mirror… with a slight smile. In the reflection, he only sees his resemblance… a man with a thick beard, a bloodied face, exhausted eyes… he looks at his hands. They’re covered in blood. “So what’s next?” Subaru scratched his cheek innocently. He quickly pressed the revolver’s barrel to his temple, still smiling. “Shall we play Russian roulette?”]

The end…

...

...

...

...

WAKE UP!

“Fuck!” Subaru shouted, clutching his chest. His eyes shot open wide, staring at the ceiling of a beautiful mansion. His heart pounded like mad, sweat running down his temples. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand and wiped his face.

“Just a dream…” he whispered, but his voice sounded as if he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I wonder how much time I have left…” he murmured to himself. “Unless this is all just some false reality created by my broken mind…” He sighed. “Isekai, huh? I still can’t believe this crap…” He looked at his hands, clean but full of scars and wounds.

His thoughts still circled around the dream – a nightmare that felt far too real. Those images… they wouldn’t fade.

“My sins will never disappear from my back…” Subaru muttered darkly, shaking his head. “So much blood spilled…” He sighed, stretching slowly like a cat. “So many bodies I had to bury…”

Subaru took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He slowly got out of bed, glancing around the elegant bedroom. Everything here was so… different.

Too peaceful.

Too beautiful.

Too fairytale-like.

“So what?” He shook his head with feigned enthusiasm. “I landed in another world just like…” He scratched his chin. “Heh, if I were younger, I’d probably say something like ‘Where’s my Excalibur?! Where’s the sweet girl who summoned me? Did she call me here and just leave me behind?’” He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “I was so stupid, so full of hope…”

He could still hear the sounds of groaning, the cracks of breaking wood, smell the scent of smoke and blood.

He could smell the stench of corpses, hundreds of them after clearing the massive camps, thousands after the schools, tens of thousands after the shopping malls…

He clenched his fists.

He remembered fighting for his life in abandoned quarantine zones, remembered killing so many people… so many monsters… with just a baseball bat.

“It’s just a dream…” he repeated again, though he couldn’t convince himself. “Memories still alive as ever…” He looked at the beautiful room, fit for a king. There was a stunning wooden carved table, several paintings depicting important members of that red-haired knight’s family…

How did he know? All the nobles in the paintings had red hair.

“Guess that’s a dominant gene,” he muttered, eyeing the stern faces dressed in lavish clothing – though one caught his attention. An older red-haired man holding a bottle of alcohol, sitting in a chair, flipping the bird.

“Heh, at least he was original.” Subaru shook his head. “Alright, time to see what I can legally steal – I mean, borrow for an indefinite period. Some unimportant stuff.” He looked around the room. “They won’t mind if I take a few pillows, some cloth, maybe even some booze? I need to make more bandages, just in case…” he murmured. “Or maybe I’ll grab… wax lamps, sheets, pillows…”

“Mr. Baru, you’re a thief!” came the voice of Mr. Raccoon.

“Mr. Raccoon?” Subaru asked, confused, yawning. “Why are you up so early?”

“Your whining woke me up, you idiot!” Mr. Raccoon growled. “What kind of pathetic survivor are you? The infected would’ve gotten you in your sleep! You tossed and turned so much, mumbling like a fool…” Mr. Raccoon sighed in frustration. “Mr. Baru, you’re regressing…”

“Screw you, Mr. Raccoon,” Subaru muttered, getting up from the bed.

He walked over to the window, looking out over the garden stretching in front of the mansion. The sun shone brightly, flowers swayed gently in the breeze. It was a sight that should have calmed him, but his mind remained on high alert.

“Too beautiful. Too peaceful,” he murmured, rubbing his tired eyes. “It was in moments like these that the horde always attacked unexpectedly, flooding the land like locusts…” He sighed. “Jackie always liked to talk about how in his hometown of Echo Creek, everything was too calm… until it wasn’t, when he tried to get into the ‘Guns Unlimited’ store…” Subaru sighed. “He screamed like hell over the radio when he ran for his life, with the horde pouring out of the store…” He snorted. “Good old American chaos, right? Though that horde was nothing compared to Louisville… they said the whole population was infected, creating a horde of hundreds of thousands… maybe even millions…”

He turned his gaze to the backpack lying on the table.

“How the fuck did you manage to clear them all out, Jackie? Did you have a goddamn nuke or a minigun?”

“Yeah, at first he was like: ‘It’s gonna be fucking awesome! I cleaned out the whole damn town! Settled in the gas station, cleared the church and every house! Time to take matters into my own hands and grab the whole arsenal from the gun store! Hell yeah, my Japanese friend, great fan of hentai! Time for Jackie Foress to finally grow up and get his first machine gun! This is gonna be a blast!’” Subaru laughed, shaking his head.

“And then he was like: ‘Oh noooo! Fuck, fuck, fuck! We’re running, dude, we’re running! Who the hell would’ve thought the whole town’s population would be in the damn gun store?! Who the fuck could’ve predicted that?!’” Mr. Raccoon added with mock seriousness. “Ah, good times…”

“Reminds me of my ‘trip’ to Kyoto…” Subaru muttered darkly, looking at his hands… for a moment, he thought they were covered in blood… “Goddamn slaughter… especially the abandoned quarantine zone. All those people looking for shelter, not knowing the infected were already among them…”

Subaru shook his head, trying to dispel the visions of the past. Louisville… Knox… none of it mattered anymore. He was here – wherever ‘here’ was. And he wasn’t going to let himself get caught off guard.

“Alright, Subaru! Get your shit together!” He grinned, giving a thumbs-up. “New world, new you! Time to shake off that goddamn trauma!”

“I need to find out where I am… and when it all begins,” he murmured. “That young knight Reinhard wanted something from Mr. Raccoon… but what exactly?” He scratched his scruffy beard. “Did someone from my world come here too?” he wondered.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Mr. Subaru?” A warm, feminine voice called.

His heart jumped into his throat. Taking a deep breath, he walked over and opened the door cautiously. Standing there was a young girl dressed in an elegant maid outfit. She looked at him with slight concern.

Who the hell was she?

Oh, right… Emilia’s maid, the one who didn’t leave her alone for even one night at Reinhard’s…

“Is everything alright? I heard… a scream.” The maid looked at him calmly, though Subaru noticed the slight twitch in her facial muscles.

He smiled. If she wanted to fool an old veteran of a fallen world, she’d have to try harder. Subaru gave her a pale smile. “Yeah… just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”

“If you’d like, I can bring some tea,” she offered.

“That would be nice. Thank you,” he nodded. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The maid blinked, slightly surprised, but quickly regained her composure. “My name is Ram, sir.”

“Ram…” Subaru repeated, slowly nodding. “Your parents gave you a beautiful name,” he murmured wistfully.

The maid flinched slightly, her expression unreadable. “Indeed…”

When she left, Subaru slumped heavily into a chair.

“I need to prepare,” he said quietly. “Because I know this peace won’t last long.”

“Exactly, Mr. Baru,” Mr. Raccoon muttered from where he hung on the backpack. “Get ready for a proper ass-kicking!”

“Screw you, Mr. Raccoon…” Subaru flipped him off, and the plushie just snorted.

[Ten minutes later]

“Goddamn, how many rooms are in this place?” Subaru muttered as he wandered through the massive mansion. “I just hope I don’t accidentally walk into the torture chamber…” he yawned. “That would get awkward…”
“It would probably go like, ‘Yo, sorry for interrupting while you’re chopping off some prisoner’s balls, but could you point me toward the kitchen?’” Mr. Raccoon snickered.

BURP

“Goddamn it, where the hell is my damn maid with my beer?” grumbled a red-haired man with a scruffy beard and a crooked glare.

Subaru let out a slow, drawn-out murmur — to which the man, surprisingly, responded with an equally slow murmur.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a good few seconds…
Or maybe more like minutes…

...

...

...

...

[2nd day after the Fall, Saturday, August 7, 1993]

"Attention, civilians!" shouted an old man in a worn military uniform, holding a megaphone in his hands. He wore a gas mask on his face, and in his right hand he held a revolver. "This is not a drill! Please be patient, the trains will be arriving any moment now!" he bellowed, standing on wooden crates alongside several soldiers who were also wearing gas masks.

"They were saying the same..." muttered one of the civilians, clutching full duffel bags. She was a young girl with dark brown hair, dressed in a sweatshirt and dark trousers. On her back, she carried a large backpack adorned with several little stuffed animals.

"And the food supplies are running out..." sighed a second civilian as he eyed his baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. He was a young man with dark blue eyes and short dark hair, wearing a tattered shirt emblazoned with "HONOR AND GLORY" and a huge dragon drawn on it. "In a little while, it'll be over just like the quarantine zone..."

"Let's hope not, damn—we were lucky that this damn train was working," sighed the girl. "If only the engine hadn't started up..." she murmured, wiping away memories of screams, shouts, and vomit. "Jesus Christ..."

Cough
Cough

"Ren?" asked his friend, worried. "Is everything alright?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, fuck... egh!" coughed the second civilian into his hand. "Fuck, damn it..."

"He's infected!" shrieked an older woman in a surgical mask.

"God damn it!" shouted a man in a suit, covering his face with his arm. "Fuck, get away from me!"

"Children, get away from him!" yelled a mother to her two children.

The rest of the people quickly backed away, leaving only the girl trying to help her friend.

"N-no... egh!" Ren coughed up more and more blood as he fell to his knees. "Fuck, no..."

"Ren? Ren!" cried the girl in panic as she held him. "It'll be alright, it's just a simple cough..."

The soldiers reacted immediately.

"Step back!" shouted one of them, raising his rifle.

The crowd parted in panic—people backing away while dragging their children and luggage as far as possible from the coughing Ren. Still kneeling, Ren reached out his hand in a pleading gesture.

"P-please... I... it’s not..."

"He's not infected," the girl interjected in defense, trying to shield her friend. "He's not..."

CRACK

"I told you, get away from the infected!" snarled a soldier, striking the girl's head with the butt of his rifle.

"Mika? Mika?!" screamed a boy in panic as he saw the girl collapse to the floor with a bloodied head. "You fucking bastards..." he trailed off. A soldier then pressed a scanner against the boy's neck.

The scanner in one soldier's hand emitted a terrifying, drawn-out squeal.

PIP

...

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

[POSITIVE]
[INFECTION DETECTED]

"God, watch over me..." cried the boy, burying his hands in his tear-streaked face. "Why? They didn't bite me..."

"Infection confirmed!" declared a soldier firmly. "Please step back!"

"No, I beg you...!" Ren looked at the soldier in horror. "That's not true! It's a scanner error!!"

"I'm immune to the virus!" he shouted, completely pale, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. "P-please have mercy..."

BUM!

A shot rang out loudly, echoing off the ruined walls of the station. Ren collapsed to the side, dead.

"For safety," added the soldier coolly, turning to his unconscious friend, "scanner."

A soldier applied a scanner to the neck of the unconscious girl.

PIP

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

[POSITIVE]
[INFECTION DETECTED]

Another squeal. Another shot.

"Sergeant, we have a problem," mumbled a soldier slowly, staring at the bodies. "The airborne infection strain has breached..."

For a moment, silence reigned—broken only by sputtering and subdued sighs.

"I know, soldier," sighed the same man who had been speaking through the megaphone. He aimed his revolver at an older man who wasn’t wearing a mask.

"W-what? Please don't!"

BUM!

"Attention, civilians!" the man with the megaphone bellowed once again as the old man fell dead to the floor. "Anyone not wearing a gas mask will be immediately neutralized! For the good of the homeland!"

Subaru stood on the edge of the platform, feverishly scanning the crowd. The station was packed to the limit—civilians jostled in tight clusters, whispering and shouting. The sounds of crying children, nervous outbursts from adults, and occasional quarrels filled the air.

Subaru swallowed hard—he wasn’t wearing a gas mask...

"PLEASE, NO!"
"PLEASE!"
"N-no!"

Cries and sobbing filled the station. In panic, people pressed together, some desperately trying to fashion makeshift face coverings—scarves, bandanas, sleeves—even though everyone knew it wouldn’t help. Soldiers lined up, aiming their rifles at the defenseless civilians.

"Please! I beg you, I have children!" cried a woman with a little girl clutched to her chest as she fell to her knees. "They are not infected!"

"ATTENTION, CITIZENS!" roared a sergeant, his cold gaze sweeping the area. "EVERYONE WEARING A GAS MASK HAS THE RIGHT TO BOARD THE TRAIN! ANYONE WITHOUT ONE WILL BE IMMEDIATELY ELIMINATED!" he bellowed. "FOR THE GOOD! OF THE HOMELAND!"

BUM!
BUM!
BUM!

"F-fuck..." whimpered a corporate rat, clutching his stomach. "P-please..."

BUM!

More shots rang out.

Hysteria began to swell among the crowd. Someone tried to grab a weapon—a hunting rifle—but he didn’t even have time to lift it before being shot. People attempted to escape, yet every exit was blocked.

Amid the chaos, one of the younger soldiers, his terror barely contained, looked at the sergeant.

"Sir, sergeant... we... these are civilians..."

"These are ORDERS!" roared the commander. "Do you have a choice, soldier? Do you want to join them?!"

The young soldier trembled but nodded, raising his weapon.

BUM!

"Screw you all!" roared a tattooed young man in a dark suit, holding a Desert Eagle pistol. "My family didn't survive this shit in the city just so you could massacre us like pigs at a slaughterhouse!" Behind him, several other men in expensive dark suits emerged from their bags or guitar cases, revealing an impressive arsenal—from assault rifles to even a massive shotgun.

"I won't be killed by your dogs!" shouted the young man as he fired at the soldiers.

The young soldier fell dead to the floor with a hole in his head, and the sergeant could only sigh heavily.

"Open fire without warning," he muttered loud enough for his unit to hear. "Kill them all..." he added gloomily.

At that moment, a loud whistle pierced the chaos. In the distance, the sound of a train approached.

"Train!" someone shouted hopefully.

Suddenly, amid the roar of gunfire and piercing screams, a train barreled into the station. Its powerful silhouette, lit by flashes of fire, seemed to be the only salvation in this hell. People rushed toward the open doors of the carriage, heedless of the impending chaos. In the background, soldiers—now unrestrained in their brutality—executed the sergeant's orders, his cold, unyielding voice echoing:

"To arms! No one without a mask is allowed to board. Shoot anyone who tries!"

Subaru swallowed hard the bile rising in his throat. "O-okay, you can do it! You can do it!"

BUM!
BUM!

"Death to traitors!" roared the sergeant, foaming at the mouth as he fired his revolver at anyone daring to approach the train.

On the platform, outrage exploded—civilians, whose lives had until now been marked by passive submission to cruel orders, suddenly resolved to fight for every inch of space. Some grabbed improvised weapons, while others sought refuge behind scattered crates and broken furniture. In the distance, the heavy thud of footsteps and the screech of metal signaled that soldiers, now overtaken by panic, were losing control.

Subaru barely gathered the strength to lift his eyes. He knew there was no time to hesitate—if he stayed, his fate, along with that of everyone present, would be sealed by ruthless military machinery and unyielding undead. With a heavy heart yet determined resolve, he dashed toward the carriage with a few others who still believed that even a glimmer of justice might exist.

"Where are you?! No sausage for the dog!" snarled one of the soldiers as he reloaded his rifle.

"Faster! Faster!" screamed Subaru in terror, sprinting toward the carriage.

BUM!
BUM!

"F-fuck! FUCK!" Subaru, as pale as chalk, leaped into the carriage and slammed the door shut behind him.

"N-no, don't leave us!"
"Don't close those damn doors!"

TRATATATATATATAATTAATTA!
TRATATATA!

"And what the fuck? You wanted to run, and now you'll all die!" laughed a soldier as he fired at them. Subaru closed his eyes and clutched his ears with his hands. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to know!

Inside the carriage, a dim gloom prevailed—scratched walls, faded seats, and weathered windows recalled a time when life wasn’t synonymous with death. Yet now, in this cramped space...

"O-okay... you can do it, Subaru," he whispered as he slowly rose on trembling legs, glancing around. "Thank God these carriage walls can withstand rifle fire..."

A battle was breaking out outside the window, and the echo of gunfire mixed with silent prayers and cries of despair.

"INFECTED!" - one of the gangsters screamed, while the rest watched in horror as the infected passed through the barricades, the entrance to the station was cleared by the infected hordes.

"Huaaaaa"

"Fuck!"

"Run! Save yourselves!"

In the distance, from behind the barricades and ruins, the hordes of infected were inexorably breaking through - dead bodies, devoid of life, whose mindlessness contrasted with the determination of the living. Each of them was a reminder that the apocalypse does not choose - everyone is its victim.

Subaru could hear from outside the wagon how the sergeant, once again, issued an order, the echo of which was to pierce every soul: - Anyone who is not ready to die does not deserve to live!
The fight continued at the station until the train screeched again. Subaru knew what that meant.

The train was moving again.

"W-what?!" – he heard a high-pitched sigh full of fear from the woman. "N-no! Don't leave us!"

"Save yourselves!"
"Quickly to the carriages!"

BOOM!

BOOM!

"Don't let the infected get into the carriages!"

"Please let us in!"

"I don't want to die!"

"PLEASE!"

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Subaru felt cold sweat trickling down his temples as the carriage doors trembled again under the inevitable impact of the approaching threat. In the background – echoes of the fight, cries of despair and the constant roar of gunfire – created a hellish symphony that seemed to be the last testimony of human helplessness. Amidst the chaos that did not cease but only intensified, Subaru still held the revolver with a shaking hand, looking uncertainly towards the open space of the wagon.

As the train hurtled down the broken tracks with relentless speed, Subaru tried to find a moment of calm in the cramped carriage. Amid the sounds of screaming, gunfire, and the moans of the wounded, something suddenly caught his attention — a loud, uncertain knocking coming from the carriage door.

"W-who's there?" Subaru asked in a trembling voice.

He immediately grabbed his revolver, his heart pounding like a hammer, his thoughts circling around one question: who would dare approach this chaos? The door shook under the blows, and behind it came a weak, broken voice — one that, despite the pain, sounded unmistakably familiar.

"Help me…" the voice whispered, filled with despair and exhaustion.

With growing hesitation and unease, Subaru cracked the door open, trying to see who stood on the other side. In an instant, through the thin sliver of light, he caught sight of a figure — it was the wounded sergeant. Once a tough and commanding presence that inspired respect, he now looked entirely different. His uniform was tattered, his numerous wounds and the blood streaming from them made it clear he had been through hell. The sergeant's eyes, once filled with cold determination, now shone with pain, guilt, and desperation.

He also had no gas mask…

He was a bald man with a deep scar over his right eye and dark, piercing eyes.

"Sorry to bother you," he rasped, leaning heavily against the damaged doorframe. "I was… left behind. My squad… they stopped being human…" He looked at Subaru again. "Help me… please, don’t leave me here…"

Subaru frowned, unsure whether this was a trap or a genuine plea for rescue. Once a part of the brutal machine of war, the man now stood at the edge of death, begging for help. In his voice, there was more than just pain — there was a deep reflection on how far the apocalypse had gone and how much the old order had crumbled.

For a moment, heavy silence filled the carriage, broken only by the echoes of chaos filtering through shattered windows and the screech of metal and undead wails. Around them, the few remaining survivors seemed lost in their own nightmares. Subaru, torn between long-forgotten discipline and human compassion, knew that the choice he made now could decide not only his fate but also the fate of those who still believed in the possibility of saving their humanity.

"Get in if you want to live," he finally said, lowering his revolver, though his eyes remained wary. "But remember — there’s no place here for unnecessary bloodshed."

In that one decisive moment, as the sounds of death echoed outside the train, Subaru felt a new sense of determination rise between fear and desperation.

"T-thank you," the wounded sergeant muttered slowly, nodding his head.

With great effort, the sergeant stumbled into the carriage, leaning heavily against the rough walls, his gaze filled with regret. In that fleeting instant, as the train sped toward an uncertain future, a fragile hope was born — hope that even those who had once been part of a merciless system could find redemption.

As the carriage kept shaking with the violent movement of the train and the sounds of war raged outside, Subaru and the wounded sergeant stood facing each other.

"So…" the soldier began, his voice rough. "You’re pretty lucky, kid, that my men didn’t kill you for not wearing a mask, huh?" The sergeant snorted, shaking his head.

"I’m immune," Subaru sighed heavily, not taking his eyes off the soldier.

"Is that so…" the soldier murmured, exhaling. "Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Who the hell knows if you’ll be the last one standing?" he scoffed, digging into his tattered uniform pocket and pulling out a cigar. "You smoke?"

"I'm 17." – Subaru muttered.

"That's a good age for anything, young one. Have you had sex yet? Have you had sex with a beautiful girl?"

"W-what? I-I..." — Subaru's face reddened, getting confused in response.

"Easy, I'm joking kid."— The sergeant laughed hoarsely, but then he coughed, and blood ran down his chin. "Still, it's a shame you didn't manage to get a nice girl, you may never meet a living girl again in this new cruel world..." the soldier sighed heavily, massaging his temple. "But you know... if we were to die, we should at least have something to drink. Do you have anything?

Subaru looked at him uncertainly, but after a moment, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a plastic bottle of water. "That's all I have."

The sergeant looked at the bottle with disappointment but took it without a word. Taking a sip, he sighed heavily. "It’s not whiskey, but it’s better than nothing."

They sat in silence for a while, rocked by the movement of the train. The carriage was empty except for them, and the sounds of battle and screams were slowly fading, leaving only distant, muffled moans.

"Sergeant..." Subaru spoke hesitantly. "Why did all of this happen? Why did you shoot at people?"

The soldier looked at him with tired eyes. "Because we were ordered to." His voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. "Central command sent an order to all remaining fragments of the army to start creating 'closed zones.'" He sighed heavily. "Isolated areas, cut off from civilization and self-sufficient enough to survive for generations." He muttered bitterly. "That’s why we gathered all the survivors at that damned station... but the infection got in anyway."

"But why did you have to kill him?" Subaru asked uncertainly. "He said he was immune..."

"He lied," the sergeant stated flatly, lighting a cigar. He took a deep drag and exhaled a thick, dark smoke. "I’ve seen it a few times already — if he were really immune, he wouldn’t have been coughing up blood."

"But that’s bullshit." He smiled bitterly. "The infection is most often asymptomatic, which is why I ordered everyone to be killed. I figured it was more humane than a slow transformation or being eaten alive."

Silence fell.

Subaru didn’t know what to say.

Finally, he spoke softly: "But now you defied the order."

The sergeant looked at him in surprise, then smiled sadly. "Maybe too late." He glanced at his bloodied hand, pressed against his side. "But if I’m going to die, at least it won’t be as a dog of this system."

The train shook violently, and a dull thudding echoed through the carriage.

"What was that?!" Subaru jumped to his feet, staring at the door leading to the next car.

"I guess we’re about to find out." The sergeant reached for his weapon, struggling to lift his revolver.

"Do you have anything you can defend yourself with?" Subaru pulled out his own revolver, his whole body trembling. "I... I have this."

"Alright, kid." The sergeant looked at him with respect. "Stay close. And if anything comes through those doors... shoot without hesitation."

The thudding grew louder. The handle on the door started to move.

"Ready?" the sergeant asked, aiming his gun at the door.

"N-no..." Subaru whispered, but he still raised his revolver. The door began to open slowly.

...

...

...

...

"OH SHIT!

Subaru, take a deep breath!

That’s the same ugly bastard from the portrait!

Which means… he’s the goddamn head of the family?!

Take deep breaths, Subaru!

Inhale…

Exhale…

Inhale…

Exhale…

"Interesting…" the man murmured, clearing his throat. "You one of those guys my shitty son brought along, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" Subaru saluted sharply, startling the man.

"Interesting…" the man whispered, analyzing the young man. "Tell me… are you from Vollachia? Served in the military?" He crossed his arms. "Those eyes, that body language… yes." He nodded. "You’ve got years of experience…"

Subaru looked at the older man, trying to steady the tremor in his voice. "No, sir. I’ve never served in the army or in Vollachia," he answered quietly, looking him straight in the eyes. "I’ve fought, killed, murdered…" Subaru murmured slowly. "But for my own survival, not for some grand ideal." He spat to the side. "If you’ll excuse my language."

"Yes…" the man nodded, as if confirming the young soldier’s past was no mystery to him. "Those eyes…" He stroked his chin, a strange glint in his eyes. "You know what? You’re right. Screw grand ideals — in the end, we just slaughter each other like wild animals, always looking for the smallest excuse to kill."

"You know, in this world, it’s not just physical strength that matters, but the ability to make decisions in the face of danger," he said calmly. "My son brought you here, believing the experience you’ve gained could prove invaluable." He nodded again. "And for once in his life, he made a good decision, ha!" He patted Subaru’s shoulder. "A soldier recognizes a soldier! You may say you’ve never served, but you’ve killed like a seasoned veteran! Though I am curious — what war were you in, being so young…" he added with a somber tone. "Or what exactly did you go through to leave such a mark in your eyes…"

"I’m twenty-seven," Subaru murmured, making the man clear his throat in surprise.

"Really? You look like a twenty-year-old…" the man stroked his bearded chin. "Even with that beard, you look young…"

"Says the one to talk," added Mr. Raccoon, snorting.

The red-haired man noticed the plush toy hanging from Subaru’s backpack. "Oh, shit…" the man murmured in disbelief. "So it’s you?" he asked slowly.

"Yes?" Subaru shrugged. "My name’s Natsuki Subaru, and I still have no damn clue what’s up with Mr. Raccoon."

"Mr. Raccoon?" the man raised an eyebrow.

"The mascot," Subaru pointed at Mr. Raccoon.

"Go fuck yourself!" Mr. Raccoon growled.

"So that’s how it is…" the man sighed. "My name’s Heinkel Van Astrea, the head of this house." He crossed his arms, frowning. "Go straight, then turn right — you’ll find the main hall where that little monster’s probably waiting." Heinkel started walking away.

"W-wait…" Subaru murmured. "At least tell me what’s up with my mascot."

"Relax, kid. Once you’re done with your meeting with the knight, your head’s gonna hurt so bad you’ll dive straight into a bottle of fine rye beer," Heinkel laughed grimly.

Subaru watched Heinkel Van Astrea walk away, trying to piece together everything that had just happened.

"What the hell…" he muttered under his breath. "His son brought me here…?" He glanced at Mr. Raccoon.

"What do I know, man? I’m a plushie with refined taste, not your detective," Mr. Raccoon replied with feigned boredom.

Subaru just sighed and followed the indicated path. The corridor was long and gloomy, the echoes of his footsteps bouncing off the stone walls.

"Right, right…" he mumbled to himself until he finally reached a set of large, ornately decorated doors. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the handle.

The hall was enormous, filled with light streaming through tall windows. In the center stood a long, grand table, where a thoroughly bored Felt sat alongside Old Man Rom, who was already drinking.

"Finally!" Felt’s high-pitched voice rang out. "I thought you got lost, Subaru!"

"Looks like the boy’s got more on his mind than we thought…" Old Man Rom murmured drunkenly. "By the way, you got any more of that vodka?"

"Liked it, did you?" Subaru chuckled, shaking his head.

"Maybe…" Old Man Rom grunted, satisfied. "It was damn delicious, but you still surprised me, boy…" he squinted his eyes. "A veteran recognizes a veteran."

Subaru lowered his gaze, knowing every word only added weight to his past.

"I don’t know if I ever had a choice," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Every decision cost me more than I could comprehend back then."

Old Man Rom, peering at the boy through the haze of alcohol, added, "The echoes of past battles resonate through these walls. We all carry our demons, regardless of age."

For a moment, silence wrapped the room until the heavy wooden doors creaked open once more. Entering the hall, her hair slightly disheveled and her eyes heavy with weariness, was Emilia. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper:

"Sorry I’m late… sleep turned out to be a futile dream today."

Subaru raised an eyebrow slightly, and a warm understanding hung in the air.

Felt nodded, saying, "Emilia, your presence always gives us courage, even when the night seems endless."

"Why so poetic this early in the morning?" Subaru raised an eyebrow.

"Screw you!" Felt shot him the finger. "I’ve gotta practice this courtly nonsense if I’m gonna start my own game of thrones!!"

"Such a feisty girl — you’d better watch out, she’s gonna bring a revolution to this kingdom," Mr. Raccoon snickered.

Suddenly, from a side door, Reinhard Van Astrea appeared in his usual attire. His posture radiated unwavering calm, and his gaze was piercing, as if seeing through the very walls of this long-forgotten house.

Slowly, with a slight smile, he spoke: "Good morning, my dear guests. I’m sure you have many questions about yesterday’s events…"

Chapter Text

In the room, an unchanging silence reigned, broken only by the sound of a spoon stirring tea and the slurping of alcohol by the giant. Felt merely sighed out of boredom while quickly eating cookies, Emilia calmly sipped her tea, and Subaru was politely enjoying a hard-boiled egg with a loaf of bread.

"Well then..." Subaru began, glancing uncertainly at the courteous knight. "What exactly do you mean, sir?"

"You don't need to call me 'sir,' Mr. Subaru." Reinhard raised his hand with a smile, his tone sounding slightly awkward—as one might expect from a veteran of the apocalypse.

"One could say that your mascot..."
"That mascot is called Mr. Raccoon!" Mr. Raccoon retorted, fixing a deadly glare on the unsuspecting knight.

"It is connected with a certain legend..." mumbled the knight slowly, sipping a glass of tea.

"A legend?" Subaru snorted, folding his arms. "What exactly is the legend??" he leaned forward, looking into Reinhard's eyes.

"Exactly." Felt nodded, squinting her ruby-red eyes. "Old Rom, do you know any legends?" she asked, glancing at the old giant who was scratching his ear.

"I'm an alcoholic, not a bard." The giant rolled his eyes while sipping from a bottle of alcohol.

"But I've heard about him..." Old Rom scratched his beard. "Supposedly, there was an old legend concerning the great sage himself..."

"The great sage?" Subaru raised his eyebrows. "And who might that be?" he looked around, receiving puzzled glances in return. "Is this common knowledge?"

"I thought so..." Emilia nodded slowly. "Everyone knows about it, from the beggar to the hermit..." she said while running her hand through her hair. "It’s pretty common knowledge..."

"Ah..." Subaru nodded slowly. "Well, yes, yes... Who would have thought, right? Everyone knows about him, so it would be silly if someone hadn't heard about that sage..."
Subaru chuckled awkwardly, drawing glances from the rest.

...

...

...

...

"He's the greatest sage in the history of Lugunica, the sage Flugel," Reinhard explained calmly, breaking the awkward silence. "A great sage who defeated the Witch of Envy and sealed her evil..."

"Great sage Flugel?" Felt frowned. "You mean the guy who planted the gigantic tree?"

"And who is this Witch of Envy?" Subaru asked slowly, scratching his neck.

Everyone looked at him.

...

...

...

"So what?" Subaru returned the gaze, slightly offended. "Maybe I'm old, but I don't suffer from dementia! I just don't know who that is..."

"A monster who tore half the world apart." Felt muttered shortly, folding her arms.

"In a nutshell, yes." Reinhard nodded.

"Hmm..." Subaru scratched his chin. "Did that witch suffer from anything?"

"Suffer from?" Reinhard raised his eyebrows.

"I meant, did she ever bite someone? You know—dull eyes, cold pale skin, mindlessly driven only by the instinct of hunger?" Subaru asked slowly. "Blood dried in her veins, a body that doesn't rot despite centuries, not even flies touching that decay..."

"That is a very detailed description, Mr. Subaru," a puzzled Reinhard muttered. "But no, it has never been confirmed whether the witch ever bit anyone..."

"So, she isn't that talking infected from the house," Mr. Raccoon snorted.

"Possibly, but let's still keep an eye on things," Subaru murmured gloomily.

"What are you mumbling about, Mr. Subaru?" Felt snorted, watching with curiosity the interaction between the man and his mascot.

"I was saying that perhaps this mascot must have been important to that sage?" Subaru laughed awkwardly. "He possessed it, right?"

"That's right." Reinhard nodded. "According to legend, the sage Flugel had a mascot called Spiffo—a great beast from his hometown known as Brande..."

"Brandeburg?" Subaru scratched his neck. "Right?"

The knight was silent for a moment, looking uncertainly at the cowboy. "That's right."
Reinhard looked at Subaru in surprise. "You know that place?"

"I've heard a bit; I had an old acquaintance who lived in that city for a few months,"
Subaru said, adjusting his hat. "Of course, he had to leave quickly because too many tourists arrived."

"Ha!" Mr. Raccoon snorted. "If by tourists you mean a horde of bloodthirsty undead monsters, then yes, Mr. Baru."

Subaru gave a crooked smile, adjusting the brim of his hat.

"An acquaintance?" Reinhard raised his eyebrows.

"Old times, it's not worth talking about." Subaru waved dismissively; after all, he wasn't about to share such private knowledge with just anyone.

Jackie only told him how things were in the city—apparently the last tornado tore half the city apart so badly that Jackie had to spend the night on a cruise ship.
It didn't help that Jackie mentioned a rather large number of infected in the area and that he found no survivors... and accidentally broke his leg when he jumped out of a second-floor window while fleeing from the horde.
That poor guy... he was damn lucky to reach a car and get it started before the horde caught him...

Subaru merely sighed, shaking his head: "But let's get back to the topic. You say that all this Flugel fellow had his own mascot? And it was Spiffo?"
He pointed at Mr. Raccoon, who was staring blankly at everyone.

Reinhard nodded, but his gaze still wandered over Subaru's face, as if trying to read a truth he did not understand.

"That's what the legend says. The sage Flugel had an extraordinary companion, a creature that could foresee danger and survive in any situation. He believed it was the key to understanding the future..."

"And so that's why I was able to survive in Knox!" Mr. Raccoon puffed out his chest proudly. "I am destined for great things, Mr. Baru!"

"Yeah, sure." Subaru waved his hand, though his mind was already piecing things together. "But if Spiffo belonged to that guy and is here now, it means that..."

"His story might be connected to you." Reinhard finished, raising his eyebrows. "Or to the place you come from."

Felt snorted, rolling her eyes. "This all sounds like some kind of fairy tale. Old legends, talking mascots, sages, and trees."

"Calm down, kid, in such cases it's best not to jinx it; I know what I'm saying," Old Rom muttered. "I didn't believe in one legend until I was suddenly shocked and taken aback!"

"Um..., what was that?" Innocently asked Emilia.

"A woman with four tits." Old Rom emphasized, gesturing with his hands the size of watermelons. "It was such a sight that my pants nearly fell off from the shock..."

...

...

...

"Ah..." Emilia murmured, slightly blushing. "Good to know..."

Reinhard cleared his throat awkwardly: "But returning to our conversation, according to the legend passed down through generations, this mascot will come into the hands of the one who brings change to the kingdom."

"Change for the kingdom?" Emilia tilted her head, looking uncertainly at Subaru and Reinhard. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you are the chosen one." Old Rom snorted sarcastically.

"The chosen one—chosen for what exactly?" Subaru narrowed his eyes.

"Let's say..." He scratched his neck awkwardly while coughing. "That you will bring change to the kingdom. The legend didn’t specify exactly what kind of 'change.'"

...

...

...

"Em..." Felt said slowly, noticing the tension building between Subaru's furrowed brows and the calm knight. "What's wrong with them?"

"That kid isn't as dumb as I thought." Old Rom chuckled.

"What exactly do you mean?" Emilia raised her eyebrows.

"Change doesn't necessarily mean something 'good'." Subaru muttered grimly, squinting at the calm knight. "You didn't take me into your household out of pure pity, did you?"
Subaru snorted, placing his hand on his revolver. "You want to eliminate the 'threat' to the state?"

Reinhard sighed without changing his expression: "The Council of Sages, upon hearing about the mascot..."

"They ordered the immediate execution of its owner on the spot."
Reinhard finished, his voice trembling slightly more than expected. In the heavy silence of the room, only the rhythmic breathing of Mr. Spiffo—standing off to the side with a calm, though somewhat derisive, smile—broke the quiet.

Subaru, gripping the handle of his revolver tightly, stared intensely into the knight's eyes. His eyes shone with a mix of anger and uncertainty.

"Execution?" Felt exclaimed in disbelief, her eyes wide open. "But that man did nothing wrong," she indicated toward Subaru.

"Unfortunately, such are the orders." Reinhard shrugged while sipping his tea.

"So what?" Subaru asked slowly. "Are you going to butcher me like a mutt?" he snorted, clenching his teeth in anger. "Believe me, I didn't survive ten damn years in my homeland just to be killed by some random knight in a foreign land in the name of some stupid, damn kingdom of knights and magicians shooting magic out of their butts!"

"Exactly!" Mr. Raccoon nodded.

"And unfortunately, the infamous chosen one escaped the clutches of a sleeping knight." Reinhard shook his head deeply. "What a national disaster; who could have foreseen something like this?"

"Wait... what do you mean?" Subaru asked suspiciously, raising his eyebrows.

Reinhard smiled wryly, glancing at the surprised Subaru, and with a light sigh added:
"Unfortunately, by a strange twist of fate..." Reinhard pointed to his cup of tea. "I drank tea today with a rather generous dose of sleeping pills, planned to knock down twenty elephants—and as a result, unfortunately, I am unable to carry out this execution."
He yawned mercilessly. "What a terrible coincidence," he muttered.

"Exactly..." Subaru nodded slowly, understanding the point of the performance. "Nevertheless... why?"
He crossed his arms. "What is all this for, for a foreigner?" he pointed at himself. "I'm not some saintly guy—hell, I shot someone's leg when I arrived in the city."

"Really?!" Emilia gasped in disbelief, looking at him surprised.

"You shot Mr. Reed's leg, in case you haven't noticed." Reinhard shrugged. "It's not such a bad thing; every citizen has far graver sins hanging over their head than that petty incident..."

"Uh-huh, okay?" Subaru scratched his neck. "In my country, I'd probably go to jail for that, but here it's normal?"

"Exactly." Old Rom nodded. "Once I tore off someone's arm and had to pay a fine for it! A fine!? It's a normal social interaction..."

"Oh..." Subaru muttered. "Good to know... but it still doesn't explain why me."

"In these times, the Council of Sages is undergoing quite an unstable crisis..."
Reinhard grimaced for a second before returning to his usual smile. "And I'm not sure if it's worth trusting them to carry out this order."
He looked at Subaru. "The legend never mentioned a threat... so let's say I'll give you a chance."

Subaru looked at the knight.

CRACK!

"Thanks, old man! You saved my ass, buddy!" Subaru laughed, patting the astonished knight on the back.

"Buddy?" Reinhard raised his eyebrows in surprise, though his tone carried a hint of longing.

"Sure thing." Subaru grinned broadly. "Maybe I'm an old fart, but I still know how to respect people who are willing to sacrifice themselves for me! You have my respect, red-haired knight!"
He gave a thumbs-up.

In the air an instant silence fell, broken only by the sound of tea dripping from a cup. Reinhard, astonished, muttered several times before chuckling affectionately:

"Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Subaru, for considering me worthy to be your 'buddy'," the sleepy knight said with a smile. "Nevertheless…"

He yawned deeply, which drew a giggle from Felt.

"Oh, pardon me, ma'am…"

"Nothing happened," Felt replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Good to know that you really are such a tender person…"

"Thank you for the compliment, ma'am," the knight nodded. "Nevertheless, you must hurry, Mr. Subaru." He glared hard at the cowboy. "The execution platoon will arrive any moment now to check whether I did my job…" he added with a helpless shrug.

"So you're saying that because of that unusual pharmacological mistake," replied Subaru, scratching his beard, "the execution platoon won’t catch up with me, and I have a chance to escape?"

Mr. Raccoon cast an ironic look, and Felt, raising her eyebrow slightly, added: "It seems fate is favoring you today, though in the most absurd way."

Old Rom, sipping another gulp from his bottle, sighed with a touch of sarcasm: "Who would have thought that sleep could be the key to freedom… And yet, sometimes even the most elaborate plans turn against their authors."

Reinhard yawned again, resting his right hand on his head: "Good luck to you…" he muttered as he closed his eyes. "The execution platoon is already on its way, and I can’t stop you. That means only one thing: ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for your decision." He finished by collapsing onto the table with a loud crash, snoring heavily.

From Reinhard’s mouth came another loud snore of the sleeping knight:
CHRRRR...
PUFFF...
CHRRR...

The four guests looked at each other…

...

...

...

...

...

...

"Alright then…" coughed Subaru, gathering a napkin, a cup, and a teaspoon into his backpack. "Time to say goodbye." He nodded toward the guests. "Good luck to you, and see you soon," he bid farewell, though he then approached the knight’s body and began groping it.

"Wait, what?" murmured Felt in disbelief.

"Um… Subaru?" Emilia asked uncertainly as she watched the cowboy check Reinhard’s pockets. "What are you doing?"

"I’m robbing him," Subaru replied shortly.

He lowered his gaze to Reinhard’s lifeless body, then, with a smile that somewhat broke the conventions of knightly etiquette, began searching his pockets.

Subaru quietly leaned over Reinhard’s inert body while the rest of the group—Emilia, Felt, Mr. Raccoon, and Old Rom—watched in disbelief, as if witnessing an unusual magic show. In this absurd scene, time seemed to slow, and every flutter of the air took on a comical significance.

"What is he…?!" whispered Emilia, barely believing her eyes as Subaru skillfully began rummaging through the knight’s coat pockets.

His fingers glided along the folds of the heavy coat, retrieving small coins, a rusty key, and something that looked like a butter knife…

"Well, well," murmured Mr. Raccoon admiringly, "it seems that your thieving skills haven’t rusted over the years."

"And quiet, Mr. Raccoon," murmured Subaru. "Damn, he has a very nice coat…"

"SUBARU!" shouted an indignant Emilia, tapping her boot on the floor. "I didn’t expect something like this from you…"

"Exactly!" nodded Felt. "It should be me robbing him!"

"Felt!" Emilia exclaimed, embarrassed. "That’s not how a young candidate for the throne should behave…"

"Alright, alright…" Subaru waved his hand with a sigh. "I was just joking," he murmured wistfully, turning toward the exit. And he would have such a beautiful coat…
Such a white coat…
Sigh…
Maybe someday it’ll happen…

It was time to quickly escape the residence before the army arrived… he swiftly grabbed Mr. Raccoon from the table and headed for the door.

When everything seemed to be wrapped up, his gaze accidentally fell upon something extraordinary.
Hanging on the wall was a painting—it depicted a beautiful girl with eyes as deep as the ocean, her charm rendered with an exaggerated attention to detail. Without a moment’s hesitation, Subaru raised an eyebrow and then—as if driven by an inner thief’s instinct—surprisingly slid the painting out of its frame, revealing yet another trinket.

At that moment, Reinhard shifted position. Subaru froze.

"CHRrr... pfff... mhm... CHRRRR!"

"He's even OP in his sleep..." whispered Subaru, quickly tucking the painting into his backpack.

The rest of the onlookers watched in disbelief as Subaru skillfully collected his loot, while Reinhard snored like a dragon atop a pile of gold.

"And that, I suppose, is the last treasure of today’s outing," he laughed softly, gazing at his loot with childlike delight, as if he had found something more than just a precious object. "Adios amigos!" he waved goodbye, softly humming a tune.

The trio of guests exchanged surprised glances.

"I did not expect that," chuckled Old Rom with pride in his eyes. "A real man." He wiped away a tear of pride.

...

...

...

...

...

[16 days after the Fall, August 20, 1993]
SHOV
SHOV
SHOV

"Ugh…" Subaru sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow. He stood in the middle of the cemetery, holding a shovel in his hands. Subaru drove the shovel into the ground and sighed again. The night air was cold, and the quiet sounds of the undead echoed somewhere in the distance, reminding him that this place would never be safe.

He looked at the lifeless body of Colonel Hiroshi, wrapped in an old military coat. Just a week ago, this man had given him his final instructions, corrected his shooting stance, and repeated that in a world gone to hell, silence is more precious than any weapon.

Subaru smiled bitterly.

"I'm not the best student, but I guess I remembered something…"

He took a deep breath and began to fill the grave.

"Thanks, old man. If it weren't for you, I would have been one of them long ago. You taught me how to sneak, how to aim… and how not to lose your head."

He paused for a moment and looked into the darkness.

"Actually, I'm not sure if I even listened to that last bit."

The earth slowly covered Hiroshi, and Subaru felt a familiar pang in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d buried someone who had helped him. But this was a new world, with new rules.

He finished digging and looked at the makeshift grave—a rusty bayonet driven into the ground, the only thing left of the soldier.

"Rest in peace, Colonel. I hope you find peace in the afterlife… so that at least you get a moment’s respite."

But deep down he knew it was only a dream.

"Heeee…" a squeaking, choking voice came from behind.

Subaru turned around to see an approaching infected—a frail old man with a severed arm, dressed in an old corporate suit. His face was riddled with scratches and bite marks, and his rotten, dark, short hair was falling out, leaving a bald patch.

"Another corporate rat?" muttered Subaru, shaking his head. "Really, aren’t there more of you in this city?" he sighed, grasping the shovel with both hands.

SMASH!
SMASH!
SMASH!

With several powerful blows, the infected man collapsed to the ground, his head shattered with dark liquid dripping from it.

"Sweet dreams," Subaru murmured bitterly as he moved to grope the body, though he quickly noticed another figure.

"Oh my…" Subaru whistled in admiration, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Before him, in the moonlight, a naked woman swayed slowly. Her skin, though marred by pale patches of decay, still retained a certain unsettling charm. She had long, disheveled blonde hair that still looked well-kept compared to the rest of her deformed body. Her bust, despite bite marks on her shoulder and neck, was still… impressive.

Subaru swallowed hard.

"Okay… this is new," he muttered, slowly lowering the shovel. "So that's why that corporate rat had no cash in his pockets." He scratched his chin as he noticed quite a bit of cash in the panties of the stripper.

The zombie stripper staggered slightly, raising her hands in a familiar, mindless gesture. Somewhere deep in Subaru’s mind, a thought struck him: Did I just hesitate to kill a zombie because she was attractive?

"Damn, Subaru, what’s happening to you…" he whispered to himself, frowning.

The woman took another step, moaning softly as her rotten feet slid on the wet grass. Subaru stepped back half a step, feeling his internal conflict grow. On one hand, she was just another undead; on the other…

He watched her for a moment, as if his brain desperately searched for an excuse not to smash her skull.

"If you were alive… I probably wouldn’t even have a chance with you," he sighed, raising his shovel.

SMASH!

A blow straight to the temple sent her crashing to the ground, but it wasn’t enough to neutralize her. The woman began to rise, muttering in that typical, throaty manner. Subaru flinched.

"Don’t drag it out; it's awkward for both of us."

SMASH!

This time she did not get up.

Subaru stood over her body for a moment, feeling a strange sense of guilt he had never experienced before after killing a zombie.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled, running a hand through his greasy, unkempt hair. "I guess."

Then he noticed something shining near her foot. Carefully, he reached for the object and lifted it in the moonlight. It was a golden necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.

"Hey, at least you don’t leave without style."

He tucked the necklace into his pocket and looked over at the makeshift grave of Hiroshi.

"If you're looking down on me from above, old man…" he sighed heavily. "Then don't judge." He folded his arms. "I didn’t survive this long just to get stupidly infected by handling the body of an infected…" he muttered, glancing at the stripper’s body.

...

...

Subaru massaged his sore temple. "I must find a sex doll around here before I go crazy…"

Grabbing his shovel, he moved on into the darkness.

Chapter Text

"Okey, Subaru, take it easy..." sighed the man, pulling a bottle of whisky from his backpack. He slowly strolled through the corridors of the grand residence, carefully watching the windows.

"We have to approach this calmly," he muttered under his breath, stuffing a rag into the bottle. "Exactly…"

"And let's hope you'll survive, Mr. Baru," chuckled Mr. Racoon, though Subaru remained quiet. Far too quiet…

"Oh no..." Mr. Racoon whispered uncertainly. "Mr. Baru…"

"Shut up," grumbled Subaru gloomily, smiling.

"Fuck, mayday, we lost him!" Mr. Racoon stuttered uncertainly. "Mr. Baru has become Mr. Rambo once again!"

Subaru ignored the mascot’s whimper, checking the cylinder of his revolver. He had six rounds, with an extra four in his pocket.

Subaru cast a glance out the window—rows of knights formed a wall of armor.

"Did you hear the orders? We're gonna fuck that bastard!" came a loud, booming voice from the courtyard—a commander clad in heavy armor with a sword in his right hand.

"But the holy lord knight already took care of him..." replied one of his subordinates hesitantly.

"I'm not so sure about that, just like the council of sages..." the commander grumbled darkly.

"W-wait, are you trying to tell me that this foreigner defeated the holy knight?!" stammered the subordinate, as the rest of the knights exchanged uneasy looks, a trace of fear written on their faces.

"Nonsense, soldier!" snarled the commander at his subordinate. "We only need to bring the foreigner's body so that the council of sages can be sure he's dead."

"But why does the council of sages want to…"

"Who gives a shit what those senile old fuckers want," the commander snapped dangerously. "Our job is simple: we go in, grab the body, and that's it." He muttered as he strode forward, followed by the rest of the knights. "Filip and David, you stay with our men; the council of sages is losing their minds sending thirty people for the body," the commander sighed with a hint of disbelief. "That's why I'll go with the first squad and settle this quickly, while the second and third squads guard the area so that no one gets in."

"Yes, sir!" nodded two knights.

Subaru squinted: "Not good…" he muttered as he looked out the window. "Thirty people… In total, the residence will have ten, one commander, three in heavy armor, the rest in white cloaks…"

They hadn't come here to talk. Not this time. The pressure in his chest was familiar, but no longer paralyzing. He had heard it so many times: screams, accusations, the sound of blades slicing through the air. He had fought for survival countless times against remnants of armies, bandits, outlaws, rebels, lunatics…

This time, he had different plans.

"If anything... you're in charge," he said quietly to Racoon.

"Sure thing," spat out Subaru, eyeing the stairs. This residence had two floors, and he was on the first floor, which gave him an advantage. "Who else but me?" he laughed out loud.

"Subaru...?" Racoon responded uncertainly, his voice echoing in the soul of a boy who had long ceased to be just a boy. "Seriously... is this the moment? Again?"

Subaru crouched just behind the stairway balustrade. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the wide eastern exit—the only way out of this floor.

"So..." one of the subordinates spoke up as the rest of the knights slowly entered. "Do we know exactly who we're dealing with?"

"We don't," muttered one knight, looking around. "Strange… where is the butler or maid?"

"On leave. Sir Heinkel knew we were coming, so he went to the bar," the commander muttered, squinting. "Alright, gentlemen, we're taking the body and that's that."

In one hand he held a lit Molotov cocktail, in the other a revolver. His eyes held only one thing—a cold, trained ruthlessness that had helped him survive a decade of hell.

"Okay, Subaru, it's not too late yet to..." began Racoon, but his voice died as the first footsteps echoed on the marble floor below.

The armor creaked. The knights' voices were subdued, as if something in this place was already suffocating them.

Subaru took a deep breath. Calmly. Methodically. Without emotion. Like the day he had to silence an entire settlement of infected children before they reached the shelter quarters.

"Quiet, I heard something..." said one of the men in white cloaks. "Is that... laughter?"

"Has the holy knight finally gone mad?" asked a knight uncertainly.

"Who knows?" his friend replied hesitantly. "I heard he’s lost his mind, and you know what this weapon of mass destruction can do to everyone..." he murmured gloomily, sending chills down the spines of all the knights.

The commander raised his hand, signaling a halt. Their eyes looked upward, where between the carved columns of the corridor, a shadow moved restlessly. "Someone's there," the commander murmured. "I am Albert Celbert, commander of the execution platoon!" he announced, his bright blue eyes and short, granite-gray hair catching the light. "We are here on state business!"

Subaru smiled at the unsuspecting knight as he emerged from his hiding place. "Good morning!" he waved.

"Good morning?" the commander replied uncertainly, but it was already too late. Before the commander could realize what was happening, Subaru threw the bottle.

The Molotov whistled through the air; the glass belly of the bottle shattered against the commander's forehead, and moments later, flames exploded.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" roared the commander, transforming into a living torch. He tried flailing his arms, grabbing at the melting face, but in vain. The rest of the squad looked on in horror. Panic ensued immediately. Two others rushed to douse him as the commander bellowed orders, but it was already too late.

Subaru stood up, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!
The revolver’s report filled the interior of the residence.

A bullet pierced the head of a young knight, who collapsed to the floor. The remaining knights drew their swords, charging straight at Subaru, while behind him some sort of mage-knight was preparing a fireball in his hands.

"Second."
BANG!
The mage-knight received a bullet to the neck before he could hurl the fireball at Subaru.

"Third," Subaru stated curtly, diving to avoid an incoming arrow.

"THAT'S IT, MR. RAMBO!" roared Racoon enthusiastically, though he was still just a mascot. "WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE, BITCHES…"

A fourth knight raised his shield and began moving toward the stairs—but Subaru lobbed a second cocktail at his feet, instantly unleashing flames on the stairs and engulfing the opponent's armor.

"Fourth..." Subaru muttered grimly.

"DANCE, BITCHES!" Racoon shouted, laughing uproariously.

"Focus," muttered Subaru, dodging a sword strike from one of the enraged knights.

CRACK!

With several heavy blows, Subaru felled the knight, snatching the sword from his hand and finishing him off with it. He stabbed him in the gut and even used the living knight as a human shield when an arrow from a crossbow pierced the shield's lungs, spraying blood onto Subaru.

"Ugh," murmured Subaru with a smile. "Really, your blood is so disgusting, you know that?" he whispered into his ear, as another arrow pierced the knight’s back, eliciting a cry of pain. "Fifth."

"Sorry, Mike!" shouted the crossbowman uncertainly as he reloaded his weapon.

"Kill the foreigner!" shouted one of the knights, ducking behind corners and a table.

"Y-your fucking..." spat blood from the wounded knight known as Mike, as Subaru smiled at him. The knight froze upon seeing Subaru’s eyes—they weren't wild. They were too calm. Unnaturally calm."

A scream rose from below, followed by the heavy clatter of a falling body. Blood flowed down the marble steps, creating a bloody trail leading to the only entrance to the upper floor. The knights plunged into chaos.

"Ambush! It's an ambush!" someone shouted from below, but it was already too late. Subaru did not wait.

He leapt down from the mezzanine like a shadow, landing straight between three astonished knights. The sword in his hands no longer carried the elegance of a knight’s weapon; in the end, it was stained with the blood of the innocent.

"I am that nightmare from which one cannot awake," Subaru whispered quietly, and then he moved.

The first knight was struck in the temple by the butt of a revolver. The blow was so powerful it left a deep hole in his skull, and his eyes were empty long before he collapsed to the ground. The second swung his sword, but Subaru ducked beneath the blow, punched him in the throat, and then slit it with a heirloom blade. The third trembled, barely able to stand.

Subaru inhaled deeply, catching a scent—the all-too-familiar odor of fear…

"Sixth, seventh… and eighth, who pissed himself," he stated calmly, glancing at a pallid knight. The knight swallowed hard as his trousers turned a sickly yellow, with a few drops of the yellow substance dripping onto the floor…

"Please…" the knight gasped, backing away, but without a word, Subaru severed his knees, then drove a knife into his heart.

Blood was everywhere.

"Mr. Baru…" Racoon whispered, his plush head bobbing as he hung from a backpack. "Have we crossed the line again, or what?"

"No, Racoon," Subaru replied coldly, wiping the blood from his eyes. "We burned that line long ago."

From the depths of the corridor, more knights burst forth, but Subaru no longer waited. He leaned against a column, lurched forward, and fired a shot.

BANG!
A bullet tore through the arm of a crossbowman, who fell screaming. Another, bearing a shield, tried to approach closer, but Subaru threw a knife at him—its blade embedding in his eye.

"Ninth..." Subaru murmured calmly. For a moment, silence fell. The corridor was thick with the scent of burning and death. Subaru stood in the middle like a ghost. Lonely. Bloody. Indestructible.

"Fuck you!" roared a wounded crossbowman as he clutched his limp arm. He ran toward the exit, trying to call for reinforcements. "Help! Help!"

Voices could be heard from outside—knights from the second and third squads were drawing near.

"No, no, no… not this time," Subaru muttered and chased after him, leaping over armor and bodies like a wolf among carrion. Subaru locked eyes with the fleeing knight, whose scream echoed for a long time in the marble corridors. On the stranger’s face was painted a terror—the kind that dwells in a warrior’s heart, but now it was completely different, almost childish.

He grabbed the fleeing man by his cloak, yanked him, and drove a knife between his ribs. The knight collapsed, spitting blood and some unrecognizable word. Subaru didn’t even listen.

"Foreigner!" someone shouted from the courtyard as more knights arrived.

"And now, calm down..." Subaru chuckled darkly, lifting the wounded knight and pressing the knife to his throat. "Don't you want to spare your friend any harm?"

"Rafael has been nabbed!" one knight roared, clenching his sword in his hand.

"Is that... revenge?" Szop asked quietly.

"No," replied Subaru, looking at the corpse. "This is... an account."

"Welcome to hell, gentlemen..." he whispered to himself as he looked at the knight they had surrounded. "Your place awaits."

"Please... please..." the knight begged softly as the knife pressed against his throat.

"Calm down," Subaru stated, glancing at the enraged knights. "Let me go, and your friend will be unharmed..."

"By order of the council of sages, you will be immediately arrested on charges of murdering the good, loyal knights of the Lugunicy Kingdom..." one knight began, but Subaru only chuckled as he pressed the knife harder against the wounded knight's throat.

"I’m repeating for the last time..." Subaru murmured grimly, looking at the knights. "Let me go, and your friend will be unharmed..." he repeated. His voice was calm, almost lyrical, yet piercing with icy confidence.

"What do we do?" one knight asked his companions uncertainly.

"We are twenty, and he is alone!" one of the knights laughed, his hand flashing with lightning. "We’ll take that bastard down!"

"But what about Rafael?" another pointed at the wounded knight.

"That’s a sacrifice we’re all ready for," a knight murmured grimly.

"What?!" Rafael howled in complete outrage. "You fucking bastards! Do you expect me to die like a mutt? We served together for so many years!"

Some knights averted their gaze in shame, though most maintained a determined look fixed on Subaru, who was holding Rafael.

"Sorry, Rafael, but that's life," one knight laughed. "But don't worry—I’ll take care of your wife; after all, a young widow needs some comfort in bed..." he chuckled merrily.

Rafael stared wordlessly at the knight, his companion who had served with him for so many years. He was practically his brother in everything except blood. So many years of sacrifices, cooperation, laughter, and shared battles… and he had been so betrayed? And what did he hear?! That his friend wanted to sleep with his wife?! That treacherous bastard…

"Hey, foreigner?"

"Hmm? What do you want?" asked Subaru.

"Can you do me one favor?" Rafael mumbled without emotion. "Cut off that bastard’s balls, so that after my death I don’t end up as a cuckold?"

"And why not?" Subaru shrugged. "I'll do it."

"Thanks." Rafael nodded weakly as his wounds slowly claimed him. "Oh, and by the way, if you try to get out of the city, I recommend the south gate; they recently finished repairs there, so it's the least guarded..." he managed, slowly closing his eyes.

"Thanks, old man." Subaru nodded. "I'll try to give you a painless death, as best I can..."

A terrifying silence fell over the air—a silence that was only a prelude to what was to come. For a moment, his eyes met those of the wounded knight—pleading, full of helplessness and the awareness of the inevitable end. Subaru knew that in this brutal world there was no room for mercy, no time for hesitation.

Slowly, with the precision of a choreographer of destruction, he gripped the blade and adjusted the pressure that was meant not only to sow death but also to cast a curse of oblivion. His hand trembled slightly, as if by the flicker of memories from bygone days, when there still existed a boundary between humanity and the beast. But now there was no turning back.

Without a word, Subaru slit the knight’s throat. The scream that tore from the dismembered body was not a sound of triumph—it was a lament, the echo of a lost soul that had failed to find peace. Blood spilled over the marble floor, creating a macabre image of ruin and devastation. In the dim light, droplets shone as if paying homage to what had been lost.

"Butchery..." he whispered softly, almost with palpable sorrow, though his voice resonated with determination. His knife began its gruesome ceremony, slicing through flesh, tearing apart muscle, as if it wished to permanently erase from memory this world of false honors and bitter promises.

"So..." he raised his gaze from Rafael’s corpse to all the knights. "Ready for the slaughter?" he laughed, casting a calm look over the knights.

With unclouded, cold calculation, Subaru did not wait for the opponents' reaction. From his backpack, he pulled out a shotgun, the sound of which was as brutal as it was reliable. In the blink of an eye, projectiles tore through more knights, and sparks danced in the air as armor shattered under the onslaught of violence.

"Fuck!" a knight howled in pain and terror, falling to the ground.

Amid the chaos, moving like a shadow between ruins, Subaru employed his ingenuity. One of the knights, trying to flank him, failed to notice how his sword was wrenched from his grasp by the skilled warrior. The stolen weapon now gleamed in Subaru's hand as he deftly alternated between the power of his shotgun and the precision of his sword. Every strike was not only an act of brutality but also a manifesto of survival in a world where humanity had long since faded.

The knights tried to coordinate their attack, but Subaru seemed always a step ahead—his movements were like a deathly choreography, precise and unpredictable. Using the obstacles around him, he emerged from behind columns, ambushed them from the shadows, and each subsequent shot from his backpack shattered the chaos, forcing his enemies into desperate flight. In one moment, a smoke grenade exploded, casting a curtain of fog over the battlefield, and then, like a phantom, Subaru moved through the turmoil.

"Fuck, where is he?!" one knight shouted in panic, firing a lightning bolt into the smoke cloud.

"AAAAAAAH!" a comrade howled in pain as he was accidentally struck by a lightning strike.

"Oh no, Charlie!" a knight grabbed his head, falling to his knees. "I killed my fucking brother..." he couldn’t finish his sentence as Subaru rushed over, knocked him down, and with a single blow of his boot, crushed the poor soul’s head.

While one knight tried to break through the defensive line, Subaru—wielding the sword snatched from the disarmed warrior—thrust his blade into the opponent’s throat with the precision of a surgeon’s cut. Every blow was calculated, every sequence of movements a testament to his extraordinary tactical intelligence. With the precision of a marksman and the burning determination in his eyes, he answered each attack with a series of shots that seemed to bring doom upon his assailants.

"Where the fuck is he?!" a knight shouted, his eyes wide as he surveyed the entire courtyard. Only five knights remained with him.

"W–who the fuck are we fighting?" asked a young knight, as pale as a corpse, looking around in bewilderment.

"A veteran," grumbled an older knight with a scar on his face. "We're fighting a veteran."

As the sun illuminated the courtyard—a place filled with corpses, soaked in blood and smoke—Subaru was not merely fighting; he was composing a symphony of chaos. The shotgun from his backpack roared, sending shattering projectiles through the air that crushed armor and smothered any hope of victory. Each shot was proof that in this brutal world, numbers meant nothing; only the ability to exploit every second, every element of the surroundings mattered.

Knights fell one after another, and the final sounds of combat mingled with the echo of dying fires. Subaru’s ingenuity, combined with his brutality and precision, made him the only barrier between chaos and total annihilation.

"Wa–wait a minute… wait," the last knight tried to reason as he crawled along the ground. "You don’t have to do this…"

BANG!

"Fuck!" the knight howled in pain as Subaru shot off his right leg. "P–please…"

"Calm down," Subaru assured him. "You won't die peacefully; after all, I always keep my word," he muttered, pulling a knife from his pocket.

"Pl–please…" the knight whimpered, his eyes wide with terror.

Surrounded by ruin, Subaru stood like a silent judge who had recently settled the sins of this fallen world. In his eyes danced the glow of dying flames, while the cold sounds of the shotgun from his backpack continued to echo over the bloody floors. He knew that every fight, every drop of blood, was just another chapter in the story of survival—a story he himself was writing with his blade, his bullets, and his unyielding ingenuity.

[HALF AN HOUR LATER]

Subaru merely sighed, his body covered in blood as he ran through the alleys.

"Hey, Mr. Rambo, it’s clear you always keep your word," Mr. Racoon chuckled with deadpan humor.

"Yeah, yeah…" Subaru murmured grimly as he leaped over obstacles, staying within the shadows.

"I’ll get to the car quickly and get the fuck out of this dump," he muttered, holding his shotgun in his hands. "I've got three rounds left…" he added. "I need to restock."

Subaru forged his way through the dark alleys, where shadows seemed to be his only allies, and every step carried the weight of inevitable reckoning. Reaching the car, he noticed the approaching silhouettes of knights—lurking in the half-light, waiting for their moment.

"So, this is it?" a knight whistled, holding the arm of a beaten young man with green hair. "So your buddy wasn’t lying, huh?"

"Give it a rest already…" the young man sputtered, spitting blood from his mouth.

"No, no…" the knight sneered with amusement. "Your buddy Cecil put up a hell of a fight when he refused to say exactly where the 'iron dragon' was," he tapped his chin with his finger. "What a shame he only told us after we broke all his fingers…"

"Fucking monsters…" Romeo muttered with anger and venom as he glared furiously at the knight.

CRACK!

"No street rat will ever look at me like that," the knight slammed his fist into Romeo's face, sending him crashing to the ground. "Paul, tell me exactly what we’re dealing with," he demanded, not bothering to look at Romeo’s unconscious body.

"Well, well…" one of the knights whistled while eyeing the car. "So, that's the 'iron dragon,' huh?" he snorted, as one of the knights kicked the car tire with his boot. "Not very draconic…"

"You can’t!" a young girl—Cecil’s sister—tried to stop them, jumping out of an alley with a knife in hand. "For my brother’s sake, you bastards!"

CRACK!

With ease, a knight interrupted the girl's assault by grabbing her arm. "Now, now…" he chuckled gleefully, wrenching the knife from her hand. "Look, Filip, what do we have here…"

"Just a young girl, probably the sister of that little shit," Paul muttered as he cupped the girl’s chin. "Not bad looking…" he remarked with a lascivious glint in his eyes.

"Fuck off from her!" Romeo snarled.

"Oh?" Paul shot his gaze at Romeo. "Look, Filip, this street rat’s got a nice reward in the form of this girl," he said, grabbing her backside, causing her to whimper and try to bite his neck.

CRACK!

The girl, Julia, collapsed to the ground with a bloody bruise on her cheek.

"Fucking filth…" Filip spat with disgust, flicking her.

"Maybe if I 'bless' her, she wouldn’t be such filth," Paul laughed, his eyes gleaming with lewd desire as he looked at the girl.

"Seriously?" Filip asked his friend. "You wanna fuck an animal?"

"No, buddy, they just want to be civilized," Paul replied with a chuckle, grabbing the girl by her neck and roughly hoisting her up. "Hmm…" he mused as he looked into her eyes. "Yes, a virgin."

"Oh, there will be more fun," Filip said, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "So, what, you'll bless her with a 'worthy' child?"

Romeo’s heart pounded as he watched the events unfold, helpless and enraged. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to pounce on the knights, to tear them apart with his bare hands. But he knew that would be suicide—he was practically half-dead already…

Juliet whimpered as Paul pulled her closer, tightening his grip around her neck. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood from the bruise on her cheek. Romeo’s stomach churned at the sight of his girl in the hands of these monsters.

"Let her go, you bastard!" Romeo roared, his voice trembling with fury and desperation. "She has nothing to do with this!"

Paul merely laughed cruelly and mockingly. "Oh, but now she does. You see, I’m sick of the whores in the brothels. I might just feast on some fresh meat tonight."

"N–no, you can’t…" Romeo tried to stop them as he slowly rose to his feet.

CRACK!

He failed as Filip planted his foot on the young man’s back, holding him down.

"Oh, you wanna watch, huh?" Filip sneered, grabbing the boy’s face as Paul began groping the girl. "I didn’t know you had such a fetish, but I’d be happy to help you out…" he said, forcing Romeo’s eyes open as Paul fondled the girl.

Panic and rage welled up in Romeo as Paul’s words reached him. He couldn’t let this happen—not to Julia. Not the girl he loved more than anything. "Please," Romeo begged, his voice breaking with despair. "Take me instead. I’ll do anything, just don’t involve her in this."

Paul stopped, considering Romeo’s offer. Then he threw his head back and laughed, emitting a sharp, joyless sound. "Oh, that’s rich. A little street rat sacrificing himself. How noble."

"But I'd gladly accept it," Filip smiled at the terrified Romeo. "I just happen to like 'those kinds' of young boys," he laughed, studying his face. "Yesss…"

"Fuck you, Filip, you faggot," Paul laughed. "Another boy for the collection?"

"And what?," Filip snorted. "This one would be a rarity; I don't have one with green hair yet…"

Paul shook his head as he pulled Julia closer; his hand slid down to squeeze her breast hard. The half-human, half-dog girl screamed in pain and humiliation, struggling against his grip. Romeo’s gaze clouded with rage, his hands trembling from the effort of holding himself back. "But you see," Paul continued, his voice dripping with malice, "I've already decided. I want it. And you, my dear Romeo, will watch."

"Oh no!" Mr. Racoon shouted in anger. "They want to do NTR to that kid! Mr. Rambo, cut off their balls!"

"Of course I will," Subaru replied with an eye roll as he reloaded his shotgun. He rose from his hiding place and slowly approached the overturned Filip.

CRACK!

He struck Filip on the head with the butt of his shotgun, and Filip fell to the ground, unconscious.

Romeo mumbled a few times, his vision blurry… before he recognized who it was.

"Y–you…," Romeo mumbled indistinctly, though Subaru put a finger to Romeo’s lips, signaling him to be quiet.

Subaru nodded as he moved toward the unaware Paul, who had begun doing unspeakable things.

Paul started yanking at Julia’s clothes, tearing the fabric with wild intensity. She screamed and fought, but his strength was overwhelming.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY! GET THE FUCK AWAY!!!" she screamed desperately, trying to bite the knight to hurt him.

"Oh, I just love it when they're so rebellious…" Paul laughed, as Subaru approached from behind with a silent gaze.

CRACK!

Paul was hit in the head with the butt of the shotgun, losing consciousness.

"Y–you?" asked Julia, her eyes wide with tears.

"Yes," Subaru grunted shortly, turning his gaze away. He pulled a baseball shirt of some famous band from his backpack and handed it to the girl. "Here."

Julia slowly nodded, putting it on. "Th–thank you…"

"Don't thank me," Subaru shook his head. "Any decent person would do what I did in my place," he stated as he approached Romeo, and behind him, Julia slowly stood up.

"How are you holding up, kid?" asked Subaru, pulling a first aid kit from his backpack.

"So–so…" Romeo mumbled uncertainly as Subaru began tending to his head.

"What happened?" he asked them.

"The knights came for you, Mr. Subaru," Julia murmured uncertainly, wiping away her dried tears.

"They searched the whole area, asking about the 'weirdo in the strange hat,'" Julia added softly. "My brother… he… said he knew nothing. But Filip recognized him. They took him. They're going to hang him on the wall today," she stammered, clutching her face.

Subaru fell silent. His hand clenched on the bandage he was just wrapping around Romeo’s head. His eyes were downcast, but something in his body—in that sudden silence—began to change. As if a shadow had passed over his face.

"Where did they take him?" he asked in a low voice.

Julia looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear. "To the New Bastion. The knights have their guardhouse there… and a gallows."

"How much time do we have?"

"An hour or less… but they like to perform executions while everyone watches," she said bitterly.

Subaru slowly stood up. He slid the first aid kit back into his backpack and secured it with one quiet motion. Then he looked at Julia and Romeo—not with the gaze of a man who had a plan, but as someone who had been there before, who knew the scent of death and blood with his own hands.

"In that case… I’m going to get him back," he muttered grimly as he headed toward the car.

"W–what?!" Romeo stammered. "But there’s a whole bunch of them there! Fifty, maybe more!" the boy said as he slowly got up with Julia’s help. "It’s suicide!"

"I had fewer when I cleaned up the airport in Tokyo…" Subaru replied emotionlessly. "I don't leave people behind. Not those who helped me when I was in need and showed me compassion."

Julia wanted to say something, but her voice caught in her throat. Finally, she asked only, "Do you… have a plan?"

"Improvisation," Subaru replied shortly as he started the car’s engine. The couple jumped, surprised by the roar of the metal beast. "Ready to save your brother’s ass?"

They exchanged a look.

"We’re saving him!" Romeo nodded.

"Exactly!" agreed Julia, clenching her fists.

"Very well…" Subaru nodded with a smile. "But first, we’ll make some good pancakes out of these two monsters…"

Subaru grumbled and, with one motion, slammed the gas pedal in the car and, with a swift flick of his wrist, directed the tires straight under the heads of the unconscious knights.

CRACK!
CRACK!

The couple turned as pale as corpses, staring in horror at the crushed heads of the knights as their bodies convulsed uncontrollably.

"Jesus…" Romeo mumbled uncertainly, looking at the calm Subaru. "You're a psychopath."

"I know," Subaru stated shortly. "So, how do you guys get in?"

Julia, barely catching her breath from the shock, jumped onto the back seat, while Romeo hesitantly opened the driver's door.

"We're in," he replied, trying to steady his trembling hands.

Subaru slid into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared, and the car came back to life, ready for another mad maneuver.

"Listen up," he said, choosing a route through the deserted city alleys, "we're heading to the New Bastion. I'll attack from the roof with the machine gun. You all need to make sure the car survives."

Julia looked at him uncertainly, but determination burned in her eyes.

"And what about your plan?" Romeo asked quietly.

Subaru gave a barely noticeable smile, as if the entire operation was already clear in his eyes.

"The plan is simple," he replied. "We'll crush their excess, make room for their own weaknesses."

[TWENTY MINUTES LATER]

I stand, gazing at the world through a veil of uncertainty, like a weary wanderer who knows the taste of dust and bitter nostalgia. I am not yet hanging—though the cold breath of death can already be felt on my neck—and in my mind, old tales hum like a ballad whispered by the wind across desolate lands.

“Today, people of Lugunica!” thundered a portly man, pointing at the gallows where five people stood—three men, two women. “These heretical, lying vermin spat upon the will of the Great Dragon! They toyed with unclean forces!” the judge roared with great anger. “They have committed such grievous sins, it is a blessing we are hanging them—for it is the most merciful punishment they could hope for!”

“Hey…” Cecil turned his head to the right to see a tired man looking at him with dazed eyes. “What are they hanging you for?”
“For defending my sister’s virtue,” Cecil muttered emotionlessly. “And you?”
“For stealing bread. The kids were starving,” the man shrugged as the judge continued his grand speech.

Cecil glanced at the other condemned. “And you?” he asked.
“I…” one of the prisoners began, his voice trembling as he replied quietly, almost in a whisper, “I insulted a nobleman.” He sighed heavily. “Bastard was speaking inappropriately about my daughter…”
“I got sentenced for rejecting a knight’s flirtation,” the woman scoffed bitterly. “Damn fool didn’t get that no means NO, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m here for reading,” sobbed a young girl wearing glasses. “W-who hangs people for reading?”
“Welcome to the kingdom of Lugunica,” the four prisoners groaned in unison.

Meanwhile, the judge, ignoring their whispers, adjusted his coarse cloak that barely covered his belly and stomped heavily on the platform’s plank.

“Before you stand the worst scum of our homeland!” he bellowed with theatrical outrage, pointing his finger as if distributing divine judgment. “Don’t be fooled by their tears, their excuses, their sorrow! For within such as them lurks the plague of treason, the rot of chaos that undermines the very pillars of order!”

The crowd stood silent, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Here and there someone looked away. A mother clutched her child tighter. An old man spat on the ground, though it was unclear whether from disgust or despair.

“They are not heroes!” the judge continued with fire in his eyes, like an actor performing for a captivated audience. “This one”—he pointed at Cecil—“beat a man simply because he showed interest in his sister! Barbarism! Uncouthness! Swinish behavior!”

Cecil remained silent, staring ahead blankly. His eyes were empty, as if his soul had long since left his body, leaving only a shell that still breathed.

“And this one?”—he pointed at the gaunt man on the left—“Stole bread! Bread that could have belonged to someone richer! To a bakery owner! To an honest citizen! Is this not open war against the sanctity of property?!”
“The children were starving…” the man mumbled, but his voice caught in his throat.

The judge stomped again, condemnation blazing in his eyes.

“And her!”—he pointed at the woman in the dirty dress—“She failed in her womanly duty! Rejected a knight, chosen by fate! Do you not see? It is an insult to the Divine Plan! And that plan states clearly—a woman is a gift that a man has the right to possess!”

The crowd murmured, uneasy. Someone whispered, “What if the gift doesn’t want to be a gift?” but fell silent as a guard slid his hand across the hilt of his sword.

“And this one”—he pointed at the girl in glasses, who no longer cried, only stared at the judge with a faint, mocking contempt—“She dared to read! Read! Scrolls not meant for women! Books that could corrupt fragile minds and awaken questions! And questions, dear friends, are the seeds of rebellion!”

The girl spat to the side, no longer looking at the crowd, but somewhere far away—as if searching the horizon for something. Perhaps forgiveness. Perhaps justice. Perhaps the end.

The judge spread his arms like a preacher proclaiming the gospel in hell.
“And behold! This is the fate of those who trample holiness, law, and hierarchy! Let them serve as a warning! Let their falling feet become the foundation of a new order!”

The crowd was silent.
The judge looked at them, as if trying to pierce through every guilty atom of their beings.

“Dear people of Lugunica,” he thundered again, his voice growing ever more relentless, “Your crimes, though they may seem trivial to some, are threads weaving a conspiracy against the order of the Great Dragon. Every theft, every word that tempts virtue—is a stain that spreads across the wall of justice!”

Silence hung in the air, broken only by whispers of despair and confusion.

“Listen!” cried the judge, pointing a grim finger at every weathered face in the crowd. “What may seem like mere burdens of daily life to you, to us is a symbol of the collapse of morality. Let your small sins be a warning to those who still dare walk the thin line between good and evil!”

The crowd looked among themselves, and in some eyes, a tear sparkled—a tear of sorrow, mourning for lost fates, for a destiny that seemed written in dust and blood.

The judge continued, his words heavy with the weight of a thousand ruined lives:
“Today your punishment is merciful,” he said with a cynicism that drenched these dark times, “for even the gallows upon which you stand are but a prelude to true penance. Let your deeds be a warning to future generations—that while petty sins may go unnoticed, they gather, forming a fog that drowns the light of justice!”

“Executioner! Do your duty!” the judge roared, signaling with his hand.

A massive man in a mask nodded, stepping toward the lever.

“This is the fate that awaits traitors of the Crown!” he shouted, pointing at the prisoners. “DEATH!”

BRRRR!
BRRRRR!

“What in damnation is that?” the judge muttered uncertainly, gazing into the distance, where the hazy horizon was suddenly pierced by strange, unfamiliar light and sound. Emerging from the shadows, as if born from hell itself, came a chariot—but not the kind known to the people of Lugunica. It was a vehicle with a steel body, shining with a cold gleam, its shape and sound a creation of gods foreign and unfathomable to a medieval mind.

The people recoiled in fear, eyes wide, hearts pounding in sync with the unknown mechanical song. The sound of the “engine,” as terrified witnesses would later call it, echoed off the stone walls and shattered the silence like a harbinger of doom.

“Alright, boys!” laughed a man sitting on the roof, holding a strange, long weapon. “Time for some fun!”

“Wait a minute…” Cecil’s eyes widened. “Lord Subaru?”

“LISTEN UP, EVERYONE!” roared Subaru, aiming the machine gun at the knights drawing their swords and the soldiers with crossbows. “LET THOSE INNOCENT PEOPLE GO!”

“Innocent?!” the judge thundered. “They are enemies of the Crown!”

“Bullshit!” Subaru roared again, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls, his eyes blazing with untamed determination.

The judge, seething with rage, stepped forward, raising his hand to the heavens, as if summoning divine judgment.

“Criminal, you say?” he shouted, his voice trembling with emotion. “You, who brought this black chariot, have no right to question the judgment of the Crown!”

From the crowd emerged a crossbowman—a soldier with a heavy crossbow strapped to his armor. His fingers clenched the string tightly, and his eyes, full of adrenaline, narrowed toward the target. In one overly confident moment, the crossbowman loosed his shot—but to everyone's astonishment, the string snapped with a crooked twang, and the bolt soared over the heads of the spectators, barely grazing the air.

Subaru, unwilling to wait any longer for the judge's fumbling display of human authority, issued a sharp command.

"RELEASE THESE INNOCENT PEOPLE!"
His voice, cutting through the fog of chaos, shattered the silence. The machine gun in his hands—an extension of his very arm—roared without mercy, unleashing a storm of metallic death.

RATATATATATATATATATAT!
RATATATATATATATATTA!

In a single moment, the brutal barrage—a dance of death—broke the silence. Bullets, like thunderbolts from the heavens, struck the wooden structure of the gallows. The ancient oak cracked with a deafening snap, and the heavy scaffold collapsed into splinters and the screams of desperate witnesses.

The judge, stunned and terrified all at once, stepped back. His face twisted into a mask of disbelief.
"This… this can't be!" he whispered, fear creeping into his voice as he stared at a power he couldn't understand.

Subaru stood tall, staring at the chaos his actions had unleashed.
"Innocent—you call this innocence?" he sneered, his eyes sweeping over the terrified crowd. His words, cold and merciless, pierced the darkness like a blade cutting through the rot of the old order.

The doors of a massive vehicle slammed open as a girl with dog ears shouted,
"Cecil! Come on!!"

Cecil and the other prisoners coughed, stepping out of the smoke unharmed.
"This is our chance, boys! Farewell, friends!" the young man called out, sprinting toward the wagon.

"Good luck, lad!" the other prisoners waved, scattering in all directions as chaos engulfed the square.

In the midst of the confusion, whispers rose among the people. The crowd, silent just moments ago, now buzzed with fear and hope. In the eyes of some, a spark of rebellion flickered—a spark kindled by the voice of a man who defied blind execution and shattered the symbol of old tyranny.

"KNIGHTS, KILL THE DEMON!" the judge bellowed, pointing at Subaru.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Subaru smirked. "Last chance! Back off, you bastards!"

"KNIGHTS!" the judge roared again. The knights nodded grimly and charged toward Subaru en masse.

"Ugh…" Subaru sighed heavily.
"You asked for it," he muttered, aiming the machine gun at the oncoming knights.

RATATATATATATATATATAT!
RATATATATATATATATTA!

Subaru squeezed the trigger, and the machine gun unleashed another torrent of bullets. In an instant, the knights—armor gleaming under the ominous light—were consumed by a hailstorm of lead. Their swords flew from their hands, and their heavy plate armor failed to protect them from the brutal force of this unfamiliar weapon.

As the bullets tore into the charging knights, the air filled with the sound of shattering shields and the screams of broken men. One by one they fell, armor splintering into jagged fragments, their cries blending with the relentless thunder of the gunfire.

Amid the chaos, the judge’s wide eyes remained locked on the scene—like a nightmare spilled onto the cobblestone streets.

"May the Great Dragon forgive me—this is the end!" cried one knight, collapsing to his knees as a bullet pierced his armor. His voice, full of pain and disbelief, echoed through the unraveling structure of order.

Another, barely clinging to life, forced himself upright, staring at Subaru.
"For honor… for justice…" he croaked, trying to defend the old ideals, though only despair shone in his eyes.

"Long live the glory we once knew…!" shouted another, before crashing to the ground, his voice lost beneath the gun’s roar. Each word was a ghost of valor now drowned in the blood and steel of a new, merciless era.

Among the fallen, one knight, face bloodied, whispered with the strength of his final breath,
"O Great Dragon, receive us, for it is we who fall, and our thoughts shall remain eternal!"
His words, like a prayer for salvation, were merely echoes of honor, crushed by the steel dawn of a new age.

"You brought this on yourselves," Subaru muttered, gazing at the fallen knights. His voice was cold, almost indifferent, as if these brutal deeds were merely inevitable steps in the birth of a new world order.

The crowd, once frozen in shock, now erupted in chaotic noise—some fleeing, others stunned, and a few seeming to find in this violent act a glimmer of hope for liberation from the yoke of tyranny. Cecil, though unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle, felt time slipping away—this was the moment when the rules of the old world were shattered beyond repair.

"Julia! We're getting out of here!" Subaru roared as he noticed reinforcements arriving and the machine gun clicking empty.

"O-okay…" Julia stammered, starting the vehicle. With a loud screech of tires, they sped toward the southern gate, leaving behind only death, chaos, and violence.

...

...

...

...

...

DAY ???
December 5, 1993

Subaru sat, half-dead, in a chair.

He wasn’t sure how many days had passed. Was it a week? A month? Or perhaps only a few hours stretched into eternity by pain and fear?

The room was filled with a damp silence, broken only by the soft dripping of water from a cracked pipe. The metal chair he was chained to dug into his spine. Every breath was a struggle against suffocation. Every blink carried the risk that once he opened his eyes again, he wouldn’t have the strength to close them.

His feet trembled. Every one of his toes was broken—deformed, swollen, puffed up as if inflated by some cruel god. In several places, the skin was scraped down to the flesh. Blood—both dried and fresh—formed a rusty kaleidoscope on the cold concrete beneath him.

Subaru wept quietly. He no longer screamed. Screams didn’t work. Neither did moaning. Only solitary, silent tears remained, streaming down his grimy cheeks, smudging dried sweat and blood into grotesque images.

From around the corner came a sound familiar, as frightening as the turn of a key in a tomb’s lock.

"Ta-daaa!"

The voice was shrill, stretched into an artificial cheerfulness. Someone had entered, stomping in excessively large boots whose soles made a ridiculous, almost clapping sound with every step.

A clown.

His face was painted haphazardly—a red nose, a yellow wig, smeared red lipstick reaching all the way to his ears. But his eyes... those eyes didn’t match the rest. They were pale, dead, like the eyes of a fish lying on ice. And every time they gazed at Subaru, there was something in them that was inhuman—as if they wanted to suck his soul out with a mere look.

"Oh, is our hero sad again?" the Clown said as he slowly approached, dancing as if to music that wasn’t there. His hand held something—something metallic and thin. Wire? Loop? It didn’t matter. Everything that this monster held ended in pain. "After all, we know the world is over!! THE END OF THE WORLD!" he laughed. "But that’s no reason for sadness, my friend! It’s time for fun!!"

Subaru clenched his teeth, trying not to react, but his body betrayed him. He trembled. The Clown noticed. He always did.

"Very bad!" the Clown shouted joyfully, striking his own head with his hand. "I told you I DON’T LIKE SADNESS. We were supposed to have fun!" he cackled with his disgusting laugh. "WE’RE PLAYING!!!"

He began hopping around Subaru, twirling and laughing, until he finally stopped and leaned in so close that their noses nearly touched. One could smell paint, old sweat, and something else... something rotten.

"You know what I’m going to do to you today?" he whispered. "Today we’re going to play... doctor!"

He pulled something out from under his coat—a surgical needle, rusty, repulsive, which glistened with moisture in the light of a solitary bulb.

Subaru closed his eyes tightly.

"Please..." he whispered. Barely audible. The voice of a child who no longer believed anyone would come.

"Please? PLEASE?! WONDERFUL! I love it when you ask! But even better when you scream!" the Clown laughed, and the echo of his laughter bounced off the walls like from the depths of hell.

The next minutes were like a feverish, bitter dream filled with pain. Subaru couldn’t remember exactly when he started screaming again. But he remembered that moment when his own voice broke, transforming into a wheeze.

The Clown laughed for a long time. Then he left, leaving Subaru alone—with broken toes, new wounds, and another round of tears that no one was meant to see.

Subaru didn’t know what day it was.

But it was December 5, 1993.

And with each passing day, he believed less and less that he would ever emerge from this alive.

Chapter Text

Julia pressed the gas pedal, and the vehicle lurched forward sluggishly, rattling over the uneven cobblestone street that led through the deserted Luguniki shopping district. The tenement buildings stared at them with empty windows, as if the city itself were watching the fugitives with silent condemnation.

Subaru remained silent, but his gaze kept returning to his bloodied hands. Hands that didn’t belong in this world… yet had adapted to it more quickly than he cared to admit.

“Okay…” Subaru sighed heavily. “You can stop here.” He pointed to one of the narrow side alleys, and Julia turned the wheel.

Subaru looked down at his hands again…
Dirty with blood once more… how many years had it been? When was the last time he’d killed living, healthy people?
It had been so long…
All this time he’d only killed the infected…
There is no crime without punishment.

“Stained with blood…” he whispered, shaking his head.
Killing one person makes you a murderer.
Killing millions—a monster.
Killing everyone—the devil.
At the end of the day, Subaru was simply the devil. Because this game, here within these dirty walls, was really no different from the one humanity had been playing everywhere, for all time.
After all, everyone kills. Everyone dies. Everyone rots in hell.
And Subaru, as the last survivor, could not be human.
A human wouldn’t survive the End of the World…

“Julia?” Subaru asked, leaning down to check on the girl, whose trembling hands gripped the steering wheel. “Julia, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” Julia mumbled uncertainly, slowly nodding. “Y-yes, I can hear you…” Her voice trembled, her knuckles whitening around the wheel.

“In your world…” Julia spoke after a moment, her voice quiet as if talking to a ghost. “…where you come from, did you have to kill there, too?” she stammered.

Subaru looked at her slowly.
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Except there was no magic there. No ghosts, knights, demi-gods. There were only people… and what happened to us.” He turned his eyes back to the empty streets, where a few curious residents peered out from above.

“So much blood…” Romeo muttered gloomily, shaking his head. “Did you really have to kill them all?” He cast Subaru a fleeting glance. “They’ll hunt us down for that massacre now…”

“In the end, they would have hunted us anyway.” Subaru muttered, knowing all too well what such people would do if they were spared. He’d lived long enough in Japan to understand exactly how revenge works.

Romeo spat out the window.
“And what happened to you?” he asked. “That you had to create such a brutal weapon?”

Subaru smiled bitterly. “Virus. Collapse. Fear. People stopped being human before they even started looking like monsters.”

Julia swallowed hard, clutching the wheel tighter. “And how did you survive?”

“I didn’t survive.” Subaru said. “At least, not the ‘Subaru’ I was at the beginning…” he muttered, stroking his rugged face. “Over and over again I wonder if any part of that old self remains… or if that man is truly gone.”

They fell silent. Only the engine growled monotonously, and outside the window the streets passed by—streets that once might have been full of life.

The car skidded as she turned the wheel, tires screeching on the cracked pavement. They slid into a narrow, shadowed alley between two crumbling buildings. The car came to a slow stop.

“All right, kids,” Subaru muttered to the three youngsters. “You’re getting out.”

“W-what? Why?” Cecil asked, looking at him reproachfully. He’d seen with his own eyes how one ordinary man had wiped out so many of those knights, those damned monsters…

“I work alone.” Subaru grunted, and Romeo and Julia nodded and climbed out. Cecil followed with a groan, sighing deeply.

“But we can help you!” Cecil cried, excitement shining in his eyes. “What you did to those knights was…”

“Inhuman?” Subaru crossed his arms. “Brutal, mindless, barbaric?”

“Amazing!” Cecil threw his hands in the air in excitement. “No one’s ever done anything like that before! You stood up to the knights, fought them, and won! I’ve never seen anyone defy those fuckers, but you…” He pointed at Subaru with a trembling finger. “You did it. You saved my life.” He tapped his chest.

“And mine, too,” Romeo nodded.

“Mine as well,” Julia added, scratching behind her dog-ear. “But still…” she looked at her brother with a slight shiver. “Brother,” his sister said slowly, “they were living people.” She turned to Subaru. “Living people, fathers, husbands, brothers, grandfathers… not all of them were bad.”

“To hell with the knights! Fuck them!” Cecil snarled, hatred blazing in his eyes as he clenched his teeth. “Those fucking monsters did so much evil to us! They deserved it!”

Subaru looked at Cecil with a mix of weariness and sad amusement. He sighed softly, as if inhaling not air but memories—heavy, metallic, and smelling of gunpowder.

“Kid…” he muttered, stepping closer and laying a hand on Cecil’s shoulder. “This isn’t a game. It’s not some show where the world is black and white, where there’s only good and evil.”

Cecil flinched, surprised by Subaru’s tone. The smile on his face faded slowly.

“Do you know how many times I looked someone in the eye before I pulled the trigger? How many times I watched something in a person die… until only the body remained?” Subaru stepped back, as if speaking more to himself than to the boy. “Amazing? What you saw was the end of someone’s life. And some of them… weren’t monsters.”

A moment of silence fell. Romeo lowered his head. Julia, still pale, struggled to catch her breath.

“But they would have killed us…” Cecil whispered. “They always looked down on us, mocked us, did so many unspeakable things.” He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes in anger. “They’re monsters.”

Subaru watched the boy closely. Cecil was young—too young. In his eyes burned something Subaru knew all too well: raw, pure rage, still immature but already unstoppable.

“Yeah…” Subaru sighed quietly. “That’s how it starts.”

Cecil fell silent, as if he’d suddenly lost his train of thought.
“First you shout ‘fuck them,’” Subaru chuckled darkly, adjusting his hat. “Then you start killing them. And in the end you stop caring who they were,” he said, his gaze so icy that Cecil stepped back, fear flickering in his eyes. “Whether they had families. Whether they cried before they died. All that’s left is a number.” He moved slowly toward the boy, who stared with wide eyes. “And that number just keeps growing.”

“Yeah,” Subaru nodded. “They would’ve killed us if they’d had the chance. That’s why they died first. But I don’t want you ever calling it ‘amazing.’ Because once you start enjoying it…” His hand tightened on Cecil’s shoulder as he stared into the boy’s eyes with the cold, empty look of an apocalypse veteran. “That’s it. Then you’re just like them.”

“B-but…”

Silence fell. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

“Do you know how many there were today? How many I had to kill?” Subaru asked, peering into Cecil’s eyes. “Forty‑nine. Six of them wore wedding rings. One had a child’s rag in his pocket. Three carried a doll—probably from their children. Two tried not to move when I shot them—they begged. There were tears in their eyes. The last one even asked me to put him out of his misery…” Subaru’s voice grew grim. “With one of them, there was a note: ‘Dear Daddy, when are you coming home? Mommy’s made your favorite dinner—please don’t be late.’” He let out a hollow laugh as Cecil turned pale. “Do you ever think about what his daughter must be feeling? His wife, waiting for her husband? The mothers who fear for their sons?”

Cecil’s face went ashen.

“But… but they…”

“Stop.” Subaru cut in, not with anger but exhaustion—as if each word weighed a ton of iron. “Don’t try to justify it. What’s done is done. It doesn’t change that their families will suffer—just as yours did under the boot of power.”

“I still finished them off. Because I know what happens when you leave someone behind. They come back. They always come back.”

“Oh, they always come back…” Mr. Raccoon murmured in a defeated tone. “They never, never learn…”

Julia looked at him with understanding. There was no pity in her eyes—only compassion. A compassion Subaru both hated and needed.

Romeo stared at the ground, hands buried in his pockets, as if seeking something to shield him from what he’d just heard.

“So what now?” Romeo broke the silence after a moment. “Where do we go?”

Subaru lifted his gaze to the sky, heavy with clouds, as though the heavens themselves mourned that day’s events.

“Now…” he sighed, as if inhaling the world’s filth. “Now we split up. You’ll find others. Hide. Don’t try to be heroes. Just survive. For yourselves. Not for revenge, not for ideals.” He fixed them with a grave look. “For yourselves. That’s the only thing that matters.”

CLINK!

Gold bars, along with a small pouch of diamonds and precious crystals, landed in Julia’s hands.

“Th-that’s too much! We didn’t do anything to deserve this!” Julia cried in disbelief, staring at the treasure Subaru had tossed her way.

“For some, it’s worth more than a king’s ransom; for others, it’s as worthless as shit—and for you, Mr. Baru, it’s good fertilizer,” Mr. Szop joked with a crooked grin.

“They’re worthless to me,” Subaru waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the trio’s astonished looks. “You can’t make weapons, food, or electronics out of them…” He shrugged as Romeo and Cecil stared at the bag of crystals with wide eyes.

“T‑t‑this is treasure fit for a king,” Romeo whispered uncertainly. “W‑we…”

“Buy your safety with it. Secure your survival,” Subaru said bluntly, reloading his shotgun. “Survive.”

The three Luguniki teens exchanged uneasy glances, then bowed deeply.

“Mr. Subaru,” Romeo said, head bowed. “I don’t know how we can ever repay such a debt…”

“I expect nothing in return,” Subaru replied, laying a hand on Romeo’s shoulder. “This isn’t about debts or obligations. It’s the only way you’ll live.”

Julia took the sack of gold and crystals in silence, hugging it as if it were all she had left. Cecil lowered his head, his anger giving way to fear; he reached out and clasped Julia’s elbow, as if to protect her.

“You’ve done so much for us, and we’ve only brought you trouble,” Julia murmured. “You protected us, gave us riches…” She looked up at Subaru with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Subaru averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to gratitude.

A hero?
He was a killer. A monster.
Not a hero.

Subaru nodded, brushed his hair from his forehead, and slowly stepped back toward the car. His hand hesitated over the seatbelt latch, as if weighing a ton, before finally gripping the handle and opening the door.

“And you?” Julia’s voice was barely audible.

“Me?” Subaru gave her a crooked smile. “I still have a few things to do. Too many to stop now.”

Cecil shifted restlessly, as if about to speak, but the words died in his throat.

“Hey!” Cecil shouted after him. “What was the name of that last one? The one with the letter from his daughter?”

Subaru paused. He was silent for a moment, then answered without turning around.

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded like a tolling bell. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

Subaru studied their faces—full of gratitude, but also fear—and offered a sad smile.

“Stick together,” he said quietly. “And remember: it’s not about being a good person. It’s about surviving.”

Julia returned his gaze, tears shining in her eyes that she made no effort to hide; Romeo wiped his eyes with his sleeve; and Cecil nodded firmly, as if he’d understood every word.

Subaru took a deep breath, raised his hand in farewell, then slid into the car, closed the door, and started the engine. The motor rumbled low, and the vehicle lurched forward.

Julia stepped back and watched him go. The windows glowed faintly in the fading sunset, and the amplified clatter of tires echoed down the narrow street. When the car turned onto the main avenue and began to accelerate, Julia turned to Romeo and Cecil.

“He really…” she began, but couldn’t finish. Romeo simply looked at her with tenderness, and Cecil stared after the departing vehicle.

“A hero,” Cecil finished.

[TEN MINUTES LATER]

“Just five more minutes of driving and we’ll be out of this shithole, Mr. Baru,” Mr. Raccoon muttered from the passenger seat.

Subaru had almost cleared the last building on the street, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the wheel. The engine groaned, the suspension creaked over every cobblestone. But he was on the home stretch. Almost there. Just a little further—

WHOOSH.

A piercing sound.

CRACK.

The left mirror exploded in a spray of glass shards. Subaru yelped, jerking the wheel and nearly smashing into a stack of barrels. The car roared in pain, bounced on the uneven pavement, almost tipping over—only to right itself at the last second.

“Are you kidding me…” he howled, glancing over his shoulder.

“They never learn, Mr. Baru. Never…” Mr. Raccoon murmured in his deadpan way, as if he were the troupe mascot.

Behind them—like a herd of spectral steeds of the apocalypse—charged chariots drawn by massive, armored lizards. Their heavy claws struck the cobbles so hard the buildings trembled. Guards armed with crossbows and spears crouched in roaring chariots bearing the capital’s crest, and at their head rode a knight in golden armor, his cloak billowing like a phantom’s wings. His helm bristled with decorative horns, and his eyes shone with red fury.

“STOP, STEEL DEMON!” the knight bellowed. “BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL OF WISE MEN!!!”

Subaru said nothing. He simply gritted his teeth and spat, “Of course they had lizards. Well, shit—what did I expect? Not horses… Fucking lizards!”

Another bolt whizzed over the hood and lodged in a noticepost, peeling off a missing-cat flyer that slapped onto the windshield like a cruel joke of fate. Subaru flicked it away with the wiper and slammed into a higher gear.

“Want a chase? You bunch of wretches—here it is!”

The engine shrieked, tires screeched. The car shot through the intersection, sliding over trash and discarded fruit. Subaru stomped the gas, splintering the silence as pedestrians leapt aside, screaming.

Behind them, the knights urged their lizards on, now nearly level with the vehicle. One guard swung a long spear at the rear tire but missed—its tip pierced the fender and vibrated ominously.

“Shit, motherfucker! Do you know how long it took me to find this fender in the city?!” Subaru snarled through clenched teeth as he tore down the street.

The alleyways narrowed, but Subaru didn’t slow. The tenements closed in; the cobbles shook the car like a child’s toy. People on the sidewalks, seeing the roaring metal beast and the chariots of snarling lizards behind, dove out of the way, shrieking:

“DEMON! DEMON! HELL’S MACHINE!”
“RUN! RUN!!”

A woman dropped her basket of eggs, shells shattering beneath the tires, yolks smeared on the cobblestones like the day’s failures.

“Run! It’s the demonic chariot!” an old man hollered as Subaru swerved sharply, clipping the corner of an herbalist’s stall. Barrels of salted fish splintered, flooding the street with stench and pandemonium.

“What the hell…” muttered a robed elder clutching a book. “Is this… a machine? An alchemical construct? No… it’s—too fast.”

From a high watchtower, a dark‑haired woman watched the riotous chase with mild curiosity.

“Fascinating…” she murmured with a pleasant smile, twirling a dagger. “You’re a very interesting man… to challenge the entire capital. Boy… you’ve got guts.”

Subaru ground his teeth and leaned toward the glovebox. One hand on the wheel, the other yanked it open and drew his pistol. Magazine? Full. Accuracy? Approximate. Mood? Taut.

“Let’s see if the nobility likes lead,” he grunted.

He dropped the driver’s window, edged out, and aimed at the nearest chariot. He squeezed the trigger.

BANG! BANG!

Two rounds slammed into the wooden frame. One deflected, the other tore through the decorative gryphon emblem. The lizard screeched and reared, flipping the carriage and hurling its rider onto the cobbles like a sack of potatoes. The man slid several meters before landing with a dull thud in a barrel of sauerkraut.

“One down,” Subaru muttered, swerving hard right and nearly shearing off the corner of an apothecary. He heard screams, saw people pointing, someone clutching rosary beads in terror.

But the pursuit didn’t let up.

One knight brandished a crossbow with a mechanical draw; it fired, and the bolt shattered Subaru’s rear window. Glass erupted, icy wind gusted in with dust and the scent of scorched leather.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Subaru cursed, slamming the clutch and shifting into reverse. He yanked the handbrake, spinning the car sideways like some damn action movie. The lizard-drawn chariots couldn’t stop in time—one smashed into barrels, another splintered against a stable wall, sparks flying.

Subaru opened fire again.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

This time he clipped a knight in the shoulder, sending him screaming to the ground. Subaru peeled away, leaving wreckage and chaos in his wake. For a split second he saw a young boy standing on a rooftop, cheering:

“Mom! Mom, look! He’s kicking their ass!”

But Subaru had no time for heroics. He had one goal: the south gate.

He sped on, the engine howling in protest as every bolt and panel screamed, “This wasn’t supposed to do this, idiot!”

And then he saw it.

“Fuck me…” Mr. Raccoon whispered. “Looks like those knights aren’t joking about stopping you.” He whistled in awe.

Subaru ground his teeth in frustration—but even he had to admire their dedication.

At the approach to the south gate, a blockade of chariots barred the way.

Three heavily armored carriages, emblazoned with noble crests, sat crosswise in the street, forming a wooden‑and‑steel wall of death. On their roofs and behind shields stood archers and crossbowmen, bows drawn, eyes cold with intent.

And in their midst—a knight in a white cloak, violet hair whipping in the wind, a golden-dragon shield on his arm. He stepped clear of the barricade and drew his sword, its blade gleaming like doom.

“STOP, STRANGE BEING!” he roared to the street. “YOU HAVE BEEN DECLARED A THREAT TO THE CROWN!!”

Subaru peered through the dust‑caked windshield, recalling how he’d faced similar standoffs in the old days.

“Another Shogun, huh…” Subaru rolled his eyes and stomped the accelerator.

At that moment, the crossbowmen snapped their strings, and the knight bellowed again:

“THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! ABANDON THAT MACHINE, STEP OUT, AND SURRENDER—YOU SHALL ONLY BE BURNT AND QUESTIONED!”

“Just burnt and questioned? How kind…” Subaru snarled, fingers clenching the wheel.

He had no time. No choice. But he had a car.

He glanced left—wall. Right—market stalls.

No choice.

He floored it. The engine’s roar tore the air apart.

“He won’t break through,” the veteran officer told the younger beside him, calm but tense. “No one’s that insane. No one drives through me.”

“B-but Sir Knight Julius…” stammered a soldier. “That metal beast is hurtling at us!”

The guards atop the chariots stared in horror as the metal monster thundered straight at them.

At their side, the knights watched, taut as bowstrings themselves. One began to pray; another stumbled back, as if he’d rather descend from his post.

The steel behemoth closed in.

“He’ll stop at the last moment. Only a fool would ram my blockade,” Julius declared—though his voice trembled faintly. Maybe it was the wind. Or something else.

The guards screamed. Crossbows fired. Bolts rained like terrible hail.

“IMPOSSIBLE!” cried a young knight, barely steadying his weapon. “HE DOESN’T SLOW! HE… HE’S COMING RIGHT AT US!”

“SUICIDE!” howled another, diving behind a barrel he’d just been aiming from.

“WHAT BEAST IS THIS?!” roared a bearded knight, leaping from his chariot—only to snag his chestplate and clatter to the cobbles.

“THIS DEMONIC GOLEM! IT MEANS TO REND OUR LINES…!” someone shrieked.

BOOM!

Subaru’s engine roared like an otherworldly dragon. The windshield flashed a blinding glint of sun. And then… he slammed into them.

“AAAAAH!!”
A desperate scream. Wood splintering like matchsticks.

The rightmost carriage shuddered and crushed under the impact—wheels flying, a crossbowman hurled like a rag doll, smashing into the street. The lizards pulling the second wagon reared and tried to bolt but were too late—Subaru sideswiped them, tossing them aside like refuse.

One violet‑haired knight stood, sword raised, eyes wide as lightning, as if he could halt the storm with a word.

“HE BROKE THROUGH?!” he whispered in disbelief. “IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOSSIBLE!” His cloak snapped in the wind as the dust cloud billowed.

The chariot crews howled, scattered, stumbling. One crossbowman lost a boot but didn’t stop to fetch it—he ran on, screaming:

“IT’S A CURSE! A CURSE OF SEDREY! IT DOESN’T STOP!”

An old guard with three decades of service fell to his knees and gasped:

“I’ve never… never seen anything like this… it’s not… a chariot… it was…”

“Disaster on wheels,” someone beside him finished, staring at the fading plume of dust.

The vehicle punched through the blockade, bursting past the gate onto the dirt road beyond the city walls. Tires squealed; stones pounded the undercarriage; the violet‑haired knight watched him go, stunned.

“He… he did it,” Julius swallowed hard, eyes wide with awe.

  Meanwhile, Subaru drove on, never looking back—as if he’d burned bridges, gates, and reality itself behind him.

From the city, shouts and lizard roars still echoed—but Subaru had a head start. The car rattled over every bump, but it went on. Twilight crept in. The road led uphill, toward freedom—at least for now.

And Subaru, bloodied and sweating, glanced in the mirror with a half‑mad grin.

“Chasing me? Go ahead. But don’t forget your seatbelts, assholes!” He opened the window and flipped them the bird, laughing like a lunatic.

“Exactly, Mr. Baru!” Mr. Raccoon laughed. “Provided you don’t run out of gas and have to push the car!”

“Shut up, Mr. Raccoon,” Subaru muttered shortly, speeding down the country lane.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

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DAY 125

December 7, 1993

The cold fluorescent light flickered above Subaru’s head, casting pale shadows on the blood-stained walls of the basement. The clown entered the room, holding a rusty handsaw in his right hand.

"You know, kid..." he chuckled, licking his cracked lips. "Maybe today we’ll cut off that little leg of yours? I haven’t eaten in ages, and delicious meat... ooooh yesss." He stroked his belly, eyes gleaming with madness.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, Subaru didn’t take his eyes off his tormentor. In his gaze burned a quiet determination.

"You know..." Subaru cleared his throat. His voice was like sandpaper—ruined, rough. "You’ve... you’ve got something between your teeth."

The clown stopped, wrinkling his nose.

"What?"

Subaru smiled faintly. The smile of someone who had nothing left to lose.

"Fear," he whispered.

Suddenly, something shifted. The basement darkened, as if a shadow swept across the walls. The ground trembled slightly beneath them. The clown stepped back. The saw hovered in the air.

"What the he—" he began.

Then Subaru moved. The chains fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

"Your mistakes..." Subaru said slowly, standing up. His body was gaunt, but the shadow behind him... the shadow was enormous. Monstrous. Moving on its own, separate from the light.

"...were just the beginning."

The shadow surged forward. Like a living abyss, spilling over the walls. The clown screamed, but the sound was cut off when Subaru vanished from where he stood. He reappeared in front of the clown. With a single motion, he tore the saw from the man's hands.

He didn’t use it right away.

First, he broke his arm.
Then the other.
Then shattered his knees.

He didn’t say a word.

When the saw finally moved, the screams could be heard even from the surface.

But no one came.
No one dared enter that basement.
Not after Subaru finally emerged—drenched in blood, eyes like two empty wells.

Behind him crawled the torso of something that used to be a clown.

Subaru quietly approached the table where the torture tools were laid out. He found a key to the door… and a small speaker with a cassette labeled “Merry Christmas.”

Before he left the house, he placed the speaker in the center of the room and pressed play.

Snow is falling all around me

Children playing, having fun

It's the season, love and understanding

Merry Christmas everyone

"P-Please..." the clown whispered in horror, knowing what the young man was planning.

The melody filled the space, contrasting with the macabre surroundings.

Time for parties and celebration

People dancing all night long

Time for presents and exchanging kisses

Time for singing Christmas songs

Subaru opened the doors wide, fully aware that the sound would draw the horde of infected. Before leaving, he looked back at the clown, who was just beginning to regain consciousness.

"Don’t leave me! I’m begging you!" the clown screamed, trying to lift himself up.

Subaru gave him one last, cold glance… then turned and walked into the darkness.

We're gonna have a party tonight

I'm gonna find that girl

Underneath the mistletoe

We'll kiss by candlelight

He didn’t have to wait long for the horde to arrive…

"No! Stay away from me! Stay away!!" the clown screamed at the top of his lungs as the infected flooded into the house, drawn by the cheerful holiday music.

"AAAAAAAH!!!"

Room is swaying, records playing

All the old songs we love to hear

All I wish that every day was Christmas

What a nice way to spend the year

Woo, yeah!

Moments later, he heard the screams and shrieks of a clown as a horde of infected people burst into the basement, tearing him to pieces.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!" 

"GOD!"
"MERCY!"

"AAAAAH!!!"

We're gonna have a party tonight

I'm gonna find that girl

Underneath the mistletoe

We'll kiss by candlelight

Subaru cast a fleeting glance at the house behind him…

And he smiled.

Somewhere inside, the screams twisted into gurgling cries, the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones rising over the cheerful jingle of Merry Christmas.

He turned his back to it all and vanished into the fog.

Snow is falling, all around me
Children playing, having fun
It's the season, love and understanding
Merry Christmas everyone
Merry Christmas everyone
Oh, merry Christmas everyone

Chapter Text

[SPOILER WARNING!]
If you haven’t played Project Zomboid but plan to – stop reading now!
I’m serious – there will be spoilers for mechanics, locations, and general atmosphere.
For the rest of you: welcome aboard!

Since Project Zomboid is a rather niche game (at least outside the mainstream), I decided to post a small guide.
This way, those of you who’ve never heard of the game but are reading my fanfic will get the gist of what’s what – and where certain places, characters, or references come from.

Alright – let’s roll!

🔥 Game Story in a Nutshell
Project Zomboid is a brutal survival game set in the fictional Knox County, Kentucky, USA.
In July 1993, an outbreak of a mysterious pathogen – later named the Knox Virus – occurs.
The government creates an "Exclusion Zone," cutting the region off from the world: no power, no communication, no help.

Of course… things go wrong.
The virus mutates, escapes the zone, infects the military, and then the entire world.
The new strain is airborne.
Only 1% of the population survives.
And just like that, the world as we knew it ends.

And that’s basically all the official lore the game gives us.

🗺️ Locations Featured in the Fanfic
Since Subaru sometimes mentions “friends from America” he kept in radio contact with, here’s a quick rundown of places you’ve already seen (or will see) in the story:

🔹 Echo Creek
A small village surrounded by forests and fields – classic rural Kentucky.
This is where Jackie lives – one of Subaru’s old friends.
From Echo Creek, you can head west to Ekron (gnome factory!), south to Irvington (race track), or north to Brandenburg.

Official in-game description:
“Echo Creek is rural Kentucky at its finest. Folks here farm, pray, and stay out of trouble. No matter which direction you head – it’ll be the journey of a lifetime!”

🔹 Guns Unlimited
A gun shop. A holy grail... or a death trap.
Many tried to turn it into a base – because hey, guns and ammo are gold.
But... someone was infected.
And you can imagine the rest.

🔹 Brandenburg
A town west of Riverside. Based on the real Brandenburg, KY – which was wiped out by a tornado in 1993.

Official in-game description:
“Brandenburg, nestled on the banks of the Ohio, is home to Kentucky’s finest! Shop at Pondview Shopping Center, grab a drink at Outside Notes... or visit the mysterious Sunderland Hills Sanatorium.”

🔹 Louisville
A nightmare.
A mega city. Full of ruins, corpses, and refugees.
Wanna survive a day there?
Good luck.
Set up a base?
Suicide.

🦝 Spiffo – Mascot and Icon
Our beloved... raccoon!
Spiffo is the adorable mascot of Spiffo’s – a fictional burger chain.
You’ll find him all over the game: on mugs, posters, plushies, even graffiti.
Created by Marina Siu-Chong, Spiffo has become a cult icon among Project Zomboid fans.

“What’s better than a Spiffo Burger? A Double XL Bacon with the secret code: ‘Free the Bacon!’” 🍔🔥

🔧 Mods Used in the Fanfic (Build 42)
Since part of my fanfic takes place in Japan, the vibe will be a bit different than the usual Kentucky setting.
But both visually and story-wise, I’m using the following mods:

• Lingering Whispers – atmosphere, stories, and mysteries

• Authentic Z – realistic zombies and clothing

• Day One (Bandits) – bandits, chaos, and survival

• Read Your Manga – because… Japan, of course!

💀 Summary
Project Zomboid is a realistic, tough, and at times infuriating game.
One mistake = hundreds of hours down the drain.
But… it’s got something special.
You can fortify a village, build a base, survive winter...
Then make one dumb move and die like a noob.

To those who haven’t played – I highly recommend it.
To those who do – you already know the drill.

And finally: No, this isn’t a new chapter, but I thought this little explanation might help – so later no one goes, “what’s the deal with all that Spiffo stuff?”

Take care!
See you in the next chapter!

Chapter Text

Pain... was the first feeling.
Not fear. Not anger. Not regret.
Only pain.
Flowing lazily through the veins like hot tar, seeping into every tissue, burrowing under the skin like thousands of burning needles.
Fire pulsed through the limbs, fire groaned in the throat, fire scorched the eyes, which had not yet lost the ability to see. Each breath felt like inhaling glowing ash. The air reeked of smoke, burnt flesh... and incense.
"AAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!" – screamed the adult man with curling blonde hair and violet eyes. His body twisted on the burning pyre, but no one rushed to his aid. The bindings held him tightly, and only a silent scream escaped his mouth.
"G-God..." – the blonde-haired girl cried, holding her hands over her mouth so the cultists wouldn’t hear her. – "Don’t look, children... don’t look..." she whispered to the small children clinging to her like nothing else.
Someone was crying in the crowd. Maybe a child. Maybe a mother. Maybe a sister.
"Don’t look, Petra... don’t look..." – the mother whispered slowly to her daughter, covering her eyes from the sight of their burning neighbor.
Petra was a young girl, wearing simple clothes: brown shoes, green leggings with horizontal stripes cut just above the ankles, a white long-sleeved shirt, an open short cream cardigan with red trim, and a red ribbon fastened at the collar. Her medium-length reddish-brown hair was stained with dried blood and dirt...
"I knew it, I knew it..." – Mr. John mumbled under his breath, his eyes wide open, with a deep cut on his cheek, deep enough to reveal his teeth. – "I told you, I told you..." he mumbled, chuckling in pain.
"Where the hell are the knights when you need them?" – spat the old man, furrowing his brows.
"In their damned little castles, probably entertained by whores and troubadours..." – the elderly woman with half of her face burned replied bitterly.
"Or our 'beloved' Lord Roswaal..." – sighed the pale woman, holding a rag to a deep wound in her leg. – "He thought this 'village' was worth sacrificing, huh?"
"Damn fucking lord, won’t call the militia, then wonders why most of his lands are ruined and burned to the ground, villages and towns reduced to ashes." – growled the old man.
Why?
Why today?
Why did it happen to this village?
Why did the cultists attack?
Why did they start burning people?
"Why..." – Petra mumbled, tears in her eyes, watching her neighbor, the good shepherd Gabriel, who had led his beloved flock of sheep, burn alive.
Petra turned her gaze away, tears in her eyes, clenching her teeth.
But the fire wouldn’t leave. Even when she didn’t look – she saw it.
Every time she closed her eyelids, it returned with greater intensity. The red-orange glow burned beneath her eyelids, the echo of screams resonated in her guts, shaking her small body.
It didn’t make sense.
She couldn’t understand why.
She didn’t understand why a person could do something so terrible to another person.
She didn’t understand hatred.
She didn’t understand the idea that could justify burning fathers in front of their children.
She didn’t understand why a good man, who gave bread and milk for free, had to die so cruelly.
And most of all, she didn’t understand this feeling.
The one that festered in her like rotten meat.
The one that left a vacuum where hope once was.
It wasn’t just sadness.
It wasn’t just fear.
It wasn’t even despair.
It was... helplessness.
A dull, crushing weight, as if someone had poured lead into her heart and bricked it up forever.
"Petra, come on," her mother whispered, shaking her by the shoulder.
But Petra didn’t move. Her legs were too heavy. Like they had been nailed to the ground.
"Petra..." – the woman begged again, but the girl only shook her head.
She couldn’t.
Not after this.
Her world ended with Gabriel’s last groan.
And there was no one left who could fix it.
No heroes.
No salvation.
No sense.
Because pain... pain was all that remained.
And no one told her that it could be so silent.
On the other side of the pyre, in the shadow of the chapel oak, stood the cultists. Their black hoods moved lightly in the wind, as if the shadow of their words had weight. They whispered to each other, not in fear, but in self-satisfaction.
"Didn't even need to use spells," one murmured, turning a carved staff in his hands. "Half of them surrendered to our will before we even touched them."
"Villages are easy. Fear turns people into clay." – replied the second, younger one, with a thin smile on his lips. – "Since these cowards have holed up in their castles and big cities, taking care of villages has become pretty simple work." – The cultist yawned, not paying the slightest attention to the dying screams of the burning man.
"Exactly." – the older cultist laughed. – "We’ve just gotten new orders, apparently our archbishop of Sloth... and here’s the twist..." – he paused for dramatic effect. – "He had a vision."
"A vision?" – the younger raised his eyebrows. – "From the Witch?"
"Yeah..." – the cultist nodded. – "Apparently, she gave him new orders."
"So, that’s why we’re burning this village?" – the younger pointed to the almost dead body of the man, who was letting out his last dying scream.
"And that?" – the older cultist waved his hand dismissively. – "That’s for fun. You know, we’re competing with the followers of the Archbishop of Greed to see who can burn more vermin." – The cultist laughed. – "So far we’re winning, we’ve burned about five hundred peasants, three hundred women, and about two hundred kids, ha!" – The older cultist grinned widely. – "That’s what you call a record, my friend!"
"Yeah..." – the younger cultist squinted at the burning body. – "So how many will we burn today?"
"Sadly, we won’t go all the way." – the older cultist sighed sadly, looking down with a somber expression. – "We’ll have to leave some survivors."
"Why’s that?" – the younger raised an eyebrow.
"Quarry and brothel." – the older shrugged helplessly. – "Men to the quarry, women to the brothel." – He waved his hand. – "We’ve got to keep those big margraves and knights busy, right?" – He sniffed, looking at the women from the village. – "Though it’ll still be a small profit... no half-humans, none of those specific traits that might catch their attention."
"And we also have to remember to wash them, check their health, pull out all the hairs from their legs, eyebrows, stomach, underarms..." – he sighed, massaging his temple.
"What did you expect? That the peasantry would be clean?" – the older cultist scoffed, rolling his eyes. – "We’ve got to take good care of them, not counting the costs of fabric for fashion designers..."
"Fashion designers?" – the younger cultist asked incredulously.
"Well, you know... the nobility won’t sleep in bed with wild animals, right?" – the older cultist snorted. – "Their job is to create eye-catching and iconic outfits for dancers, strippers, women of loose morals, and so on..."
"Wow..." – whistled the younger cultist. – "Well, I guess these girls will be lucky."
The older cultist laughed shortly and bitterly. – "Lucky?" – he shook his head as if hearing the biggest nonsense in the world. – "Do you know where they’ll end up?"
The younger squinted slightly, curious.
The older shrugged, watching as another beam in the fiery pyre collapsed with a crash.
"Probably in hell, boy." – He spat into the ash. – "Because our nobility... well..." – He smiled without a trace of humor – "...has some rather refined fetishes."
The younger cultist snorted, but it didn’t sound at all cheerful.
"What kind?" – he asked quietly, as if suddenly no longer wanting to know.
The older cultist only laughed dryly, throatily, and the shadow of the chapel oak danced on his hood like a black crown.
"Zoophilia, NTR, rape, BDSM, agoraphilia, graviditophilia, voyeurism..." – he listed almost with a bored tone, as if reciting an order at an inn. – "And those are just the ones I’ve heard about from the guards."
The younger cultist swallowed, feeling something heavy and foreign settle in his stomach.
On the other side of the pyre, a woman howled her last breath, and the smoke covered the sky as if God Himself turned away.
"That’s why we need them." – the older cultist added with grim certainty. – "Because these rich pigs aren’t even aroused by ordinary meat anymore. It has to be fresh. Innocent. Or..." – he paused with a strange glint in his eye – "...altered to their liking."

The younger cultist looked at the last of the peasants, who were being caught and dragged towards the pyre.
And something in his soul shifted, even though he didn’t know what.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

She dreamed... though she didn’t know that word.
In her time, dreams were signs, whispers of the gods—sometimes a curse. But what she dreamed was not like the visions of the blessed, nor the fevered hallucinations of sinners.
It was alien. Cold. Mechanical.
And far too real…

It was something else—something that smelled of iron, burnt skin, and sulfur, as if the soul of the world had long since been thrown into the fire, and now only ashes remained to be dreamed.

She dreamed of a crowd—people in strange clothes, shouting in incomprehensible words, pushing toward a massive iron ship docked at the edge of a city made of dead glass. Children were crying, women screaming, men shoving each other like cattle throwing themselves into fire.
The strong trampled the weak, and children were lost beneath their feet. They screamed, but not in her tongue.

"Sauvez mes enfants! Je vous en supplie! Sauvez-les!" cried a dark-skinned woman in a headscarf, clutching a wailing infant in her arms.
"Je l'avais dit!" shouted a man in a strange voice. "Il n’y a pas de place! Aucune place!"
"Laissez-nous passer!"
"S’il vous plaît! Ayez pitié de nous!"
"Ils arrivent! ILS ARRIVENT!" screamed a man drenched in blood and filth, laughing maniacally as he pointed a trembling finger to the far side of the street.

And then... the others came.

Seven -- six -- eleven -- five -- nine-an'-twenty mile to-day --
Four -- eleven -- seventeen -- thirty-two the day before --
(Boots -- boots -- boots -- boots -- movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Pale. With eyes like empty wells.
They walked slowly, like sleepwalkers, but they carried with them the silence of death. They touched people, and people fell. They bit them—like wolves, but without rage. Only hunger.
Everyone screamed, wept…
Some of those strange people held “metal crossbows” whose power terrified Petra…
But to those “strange people,” it made no difference—they simply kept walking toward the crying masses.

She dreamed of a man—kneeling on something that might’ve been cobblestone, yet felt soft as ash. He held a child in his arms.
Dead, but still warm. He was screaming—not out of fear, but guilt.
He held a knife in one hand, its blade steaming.

Dreams that smell of sulfur.

Then came the light.
Not fire. Something else.
A light brighter than lightning, yet stripped of divine majesty.
Hellish.
It did not fall from the sky—it fell onto the world.
And wherever it landed, all vanished: buildings, trees, people, shadows, the earth itself.

That’s when she heard the voice.

It was not a human voice.
Nor was it the voice of a god.
It was the voice of a machine—cold, foreign, empty.

“Washington bombed. Infection count... rising.”

It said it the way a priest would announce prayer hours—without emotion, without understanding, without mercy.
And though she knew none of the words, she understood them with her whole being.

She saw a city—its towers like cathedrals of metal, roads black as night—vanishing in a single moment into nothing.
The people dissolved in the light.
Only shadows, scorched into the walls, remained.

Dreams like rot.

She dreamed of a run—not the run of prey escaping a wolf in the forest, but the mad rush of hundreds of people through the stone streets of a city made of fire and glass.
The fleeing tripped, trampled, fell.
Behind them came a horde—not an army, not monsters, but something in between: soulless walking bodies, hungry, deformed, with mouths full of blood and eyes without purpose.
And when they caught up—the sound of bursting flesh drowned out everything.

She dreamed of people fighting for food—not bread, not grain, but small, shiny cans with colorful pictures.
They fought over them like over gold.
One man, covered in tattoos, smashed another's skull with a rock. Then spat on the body and took the can as if it were sacred.
And he walked away—not toward home, but into darkness.

She dreamed of a king—not like any she had known.
He wore no crown, no sword.
He sat in a golden room, dressed in dark robes.
Behind him hung a red cloth with a white symbol—a cross.

He stared straight ahead, his face neither evil nor good. Just empty.
He sighed heavily, adjusting his glasses.

"We, the last of mankind, were not ready. We did not deserve the future.
May God forgive our children."

Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a silver iron tool, pressed it to his temple—
—and it flashed.
His head bloomed across the wall behind him like a cursed flower.

That’s when she saw something else.
A great map.
Continents like bloodstains on parchment.
The world wasn’t like this—she remembered that clearly.
There were no oceans, no seas, no islands…
There were only the Four Great Nations…
But here—she saw close to two hundred… or more…

Petra slowly realized what she was looking at…
This was the world beyond the great waterfall… another world.
Another drop of water in the vast lake…

Don't -- don't -- don't -- don't -- look at what's in front of you
(Boots -- boots -- boots -- boots -- movin' up an' down again);
Men -- men -- men -- men -- men go mad with watchin' em
An' there's no discharge in the war!

On one of them—the largest—names glowed in red letters:

WASHINGTON – LOST. PARIS – LOST. LONDON – LOST. BERLIN – LOST. MOSCOW – LOST. BEIJING – LOST. TOKYO – LOST…

The numbers stretched on…

INFECTION: GLOBAL
HOPE: NONE.

She didn’t know what Washington was, or a president, or a can, or Tokyo, or Paris, or London…
They all died of hunger, fear, or themselves.
And their world—this strange one, full of glass and metal—was already dead.

And she… was a witness.

Try -- try -- try -- try -- to think o' something different --
Oh -- my -- God -- keep -- me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots -- boots -- boots -- boots -- movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

A soul without light

This time, the dream was quieter.
No screaming crowds.
No lights of hell.
Only darkness—soft as velvet, suffocating as a coffin.

In this dream, there was no crowd, no war.
There was only him.

A dark-haired youth, with a face too young to carry such despair.
She saw him from afar—as if through a veil of mist.
He wandered a place made of shadow and ruin.
The walls were bare, cracked, screaming with silence.

He was looking for something.
No—someone.

He called out. But his voice was no prayer.
It was the cry of a soul torn to shreds.

“Don’t leave me, Yuki… don’t all of you leave me here…” he whispered in a tongue not her own, and yet she understood every word.

Count -- count -- count -- count -- the bullets in the bandoliers
If -- your -- eyes -- drop -- they will get atop o' you!
(Boots -- boots -- boots -- boots -- movin' up an' down again) --
There's no discharge in the war!

Then something changed. The walls collapsed. The earth trembled.
And suddenly… he screamed. He howled like an animal, like someone who had realized he was nothing but a remnant of a bygone world, the last witness that humanity once existed and thrived.
She saw him throw himself at the faceless creatures — like a beast. His hands were red with blood, his breath like fire. He didn’t fight like a warrior. He killed like someone who was afraid to die. Afraid of death, afraid of pain…

We -- can -- stick -- out -- 'unger, thirst, an' weariness
But -- not -- not -- not -- not the chronic sight of 'em --
Boot -- boots -- boots -- boots -- movin' up an' down again
An' there's no discharge in the war!

He feared being devoured by the horde of undead…
And then he was alone again. On his knees, bloodied, trembling.
— "It's all my fault... everyone dies... only I remain..."
Petra — though dreaming — felt him. His loneliness. His cursed struggle…
He lifted his gaze… looked at her with a faint smile.
— "These are the final days." — he smiled, slowly raising his machete and walking toward the buildings.

The Last City

The dream had no beginning. It simply was. It pulled her in without warning.
At first, she saw faces she knew. Old Helga from the neighborhood, the boy who once helped her draw water from the well, the man who greeted her with a smile every day. But their eyes were dead. Their faces — torn, inhuman. Their bodies mangled. Neighbors… transformed.
They were running. Not with her — at her.
The world around them burned. The sky was red like blood, and the ground smoked. The city — in ruins. Wooden houses crumbled like children’s toys, and the streets were full of screams and shattered bodies. People fled in every direction, as if even the sky wanted to devour them. Sometimes someone fired a shot — a flash of light, a bang, then silence.

And then they appeared.
Not knights. Not warriors.
Golden armor, polished boots, eyes without mercy. They watched from the walls as if it didn’t concern them. Knights of the new age — proud, cowardly, indifferent. People begged them for help. Children reached upward in hope. And they... closed the gates.

Then the dream changed again.
There was no city anymore.
There was a fortress — vast, made of metal, concrete, light. The last one. The last bastion of humanity. And billions of their enemies — not tens, not thousands — quadrillions, a gray wave moving like one body. As if the entire earth had been swallowed by the living dead. Their moans filled the air, interrupted only by the roar of cannons and the screams of the dying.
On the walls of the fortress stood him.
The same black-haired young man. No longer a boy lost in the fog. Now his face was stone. Scars on his cheek, shadows under his eyes. He spoke to people through some strange, shining device. And his voice rang like a hammer.

 "We don’t retreat."
 "This isn’t over as long as I breathe."
Behind him, people prepared for the final fight. Exhausted faces, trembling bodies — but their eyes were full of fire.
Petra looked at him and felt… something strange.
Not fear. Not pity.
Recognition.
She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know his name.

The Emperor of Ash

   The dream changed again.
There was no more fire. No more screaming. No more running or blood.
Only cold. Stone corridors. A silence that could be heard in the bones.
Petra stood still, yet she felt as if she were gliding behind him — the black-haired man, no longer a youth. His hair streaked with gray, his face lined with scars, his brows furrowed in thought. He wore a heavy black coat, and a wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his eyes.
He walked slowly. Each of his steps sounded like a sentence.

 "Knox..."  he muttered to himself, his voice like steel dragged across ice.  "...it all began in Knox. It always begins there. The virus... wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of something greater."
Petra didn’t know those words. She didn’t understand what he was saying. But she felt they spoke a truth about a world that wasn’t hers — and yet was… her dream.
 "It was about twenty years ago…, when those people sowed the seeds of their own destruction…" — in the background Petra saw, with horror, cultists of witches being torn apart and devoured alive by the undead.  "And they left us a legacy of terror…"

On the way, he passed people — strange ones, in dark uniforms, with marble-like faces. They didn’t look him in the eye. They saluted with a dull, hollow ritual:
 "Ave Imperator."
And he merely nodded. Didn’t even glance.

The corridor ended in giant metal doors. When they opened, light flooded the interior — blinding, white. Petra had to shield her eyes.
When she opened them again, he was already standing on the balcony.

Below him — a sea of people. Hundreds of thousands. Perhaps a million. All in black, masked, heads raised. Each one of them looked at him like a god.
And then the man raised his hand. One gesture. Silent.
The crowd howled. In one instant, like a beast. As if every throat uttered the same sound.
 "AVE IMPERATOR!"

The Emperor was silent for a long moment.
He extended one hand forward and pointed toward the horizon, where vast factories worked day and night, where steel and steam ruled the new world born from ash.
Then he spread his arms wide, as if embracing the entirety of that powerful iron empire.

 "I am the Emperor… your leader."  his voice carried far, deep and strong like a death knell.  "Your savior."  he said as steam rose from chimneys and steel colossi moved like beasts from another world. Strange flying machines soared through the skies, their massive balloons casting shadows below.

 "It was I who founded the New Empire. It was I who built this Last City — the final refuge of civilization."
Petra saw it from above — like a bird, though she didn’t know how — the vastness of the metropolis. It was like a living monster of concrete and iron, surrounded by a colossal wall so tall it hid the sky. On the walls — cannons, towers, searchlights. Inside — life pulsed to the rhythm of machines.

 "But we can no longer live like rats, hiding behind the sacred walls of the Last City."  he raised his fist. The crowd roared.
 "It’s time to face our monsters!"  he struck his chest with his fist.
 "Time to go beyond the world!"  he made a motion as if opening the door to a new world.  "Time to reclaim it from the undead!!"
 "And reclaim it for the glory of mankind!"  he spread his arms like a prophet proclaiming the end and the beginning.
 "FOR THE GLORY OF THE NEW EMPIRE!"
The crowd howled again.

   Petra watched in horror. And with admiration. And something else… something she couldn’t name.
Petra felt chills run down her spine.
The crowd loved him.
She – feared him.
Because she knew – without knowing how – that this man had survived everything. Death. Betrayal. Fall. And that now… he ruled a world that had long since ceased to be human.
And somewhere deep inside her – something whispered:
It was the same boy. The same man. Him.
But was he a hero?
Or a monster?
She didn’t know…

....

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WAKE UP!

"Mom!!" Petra screamed, clutching her pounding heart. Her heart was racing wildly, her breath shallow and panicked. She struck her chest with both hands, trying to calm the rapid rhythm. It felt as if just yesterday she'd been running through a burning city—and now, she was in an entirely different world.
She looked ahead, disoriented.
"Wh-where am I?" she asked uncertainly, swallowing hard. She slowly glanced around, not recognizing anything precisely...
The seat was hard, and the smell inside the space was strange—foreign. She didn’t know what any of this was, or how it related to her own life.
Okay, Petra! Deep breaths!
You’re still alive! Don’t panic!
She was in some kind of strange metal carriage… and at the front sat a strange man...
Oh no…
No, no…
It was him.

    He was sitting there — the dark-haired man, the same one who appeared in all her dreams. Now he was more... real. His face seemed less distinct, fading into the dim light, but she still recognized him instantly. The same dark, unreadable eyes, scars on his face, the same cold, apathetic gaze.
"Oh?" the man turned his gaze to her. "Has our little princess woken up?"
Petra tried to shake off the confusion, but her body still felt submerged in a nightmare. Her eyes still saw the image from the balcony—the crowd paying homage, his gestures—as if they were part of reality.
"How did you sleep?" he asked calmly, steering the wheel.
She glanced at him, holding her breath. His question was so absurd, as if what she'd seen didn’t matter at all.
Petra could still feel her heart pounding like a drum. She sat rigid, tangled in a blanket, afraid that even the slightest movement might trigger something. The man drove that strange vehicle with mechanical precision, his hands resting on the wheel—steering wheel, she would later call it—with the calm of someone cruising familiar streets from memory.
Finally, she gathered her courage. Her voice was hoarse, but firm:
"What do you want? Who are you?"
The silence lasted several long seconds. Then the man sighed deeply, like someone tired of hearing the same questions too many times.
"Relax," he muttered. "I don’t want anything. I just saved your ass from the infected. You were lying in the mud, rambling nonsense. You’d probably have ended up as someone’s dinner."
Petra raised an eyebrow, trying to grasp the tone of his voice—it was unbearably indifferent, yet carried a trace of… concern?
"I was just planning to take you back to your village," he added after a moment, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Relax... I killed all the cultists. I’ll work something out with your neighbors." He snapped his fingers. "That blacksmith, I made a deal with him. He’ll help me fix a few important things, and in return, I’ll bring him some... tech he doesn’t understand. And with the village chief—I made a small arrangement. I’ll rent one of the houses. For an indefinite time," he said calmly, turning the steering wheel to avoid a tree.
Petra’s eyes widened.
"You killed them all?" she asked in disbelief.
"Wasn’t hard," he replied with a slight shrug, as if setting up a new life in a completely foreign world was a casual affair. "Surprise attack, lots of ammo, and some experience in fighting and survival goes a long way." He chuckled grimly.
Petra fell silent. Her mind tried to piece together the fragments of dreams with the reality, but nothing made sense. She didn’t know this world. She didn’t know this machine. She didn’t know this man—yet she had seen his face countless times. In dreams. In flames. In the fortress. Among the crowd shouting Ave Imperator.
And now he was sitting in the front seat, driving the carriage. Alive. Tangible. And claiming he’d simply saved her.
"Who are you really?" she whispered.

"I’m Natsuki Subaru," the man said with a shrug. "Nice to meet you, Petra."

   Petra stayed quiet for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Echoes of her dream still rang in her head—the voice of the crowd, the steel tone of his speech—but reality was too vivid, too real to ignore. She could smell the grease, feel the vibrations of the vehicle beneath her feet, the cold air seeping through the cracked window.
She clenched her fingers on the edge of the seat and took a deep breath.
"Is… is that really all? You don’t want anything else?" she asked uncertainly. "You're not telling us everything. What do you really want?"
The man—Subaru—glanced at her briefly. His eyes were glassy, as if they weren’t looking at the road but into the past—something distant and painful. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but resolute:
"I want peace. Silence. A long sleep without screams."
Petra fell silent.
But after a moment, Subaru added, "But before I get that… I need to check out this Roswaal guy. Something’s fishy with those cultists. Who they were. And why the infection showed up here…" he frowned in irritation.
"What?" Subaru suddenly asked, slightly surprised. "No, Mr. Raccoon, stop talking to me about that." He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.
"What?" Petra echoed blankly, staring at him. Was this guy talking to himself?
Wait a minute… what was he planning to do?!
Petra jolted upright.
"No! You can’t go there!" she shouted, her voice laced with panic. "Lord Roswaal is a powerful noble, a great mage of the kingdom! Even royal knights avoid him! If he finds out you’re suspicious of him, you’ll vanish without a trace!"
Subaru just snorted, indifferent.
"I’ve already taken down plenty of noble heads," he replied dryly. "Whole proud families have fallen—though I was cutting off the heads of infected nobles..." He waved dismissively. "Whatever. One more lunatic in a cape with peacock feathers won’t make a difference."
Petra stared at him in disbelief. She no longer knew whether she was dealing with a hero, a madman, or a monster. But something in his voice… it wasn’t boasting. It was resignation. A burden he carried. As if each of those deaths had left a wound in him.
"You..." she whispered. "Who are you really?"
Subaru didn’t answer right away. A long moment passed before his lips moved again.
"The one who can’t die, no matter how many infected, bandits, or others want me gone," he said with a grim laugh, just as the houses of the village came into view.
Petra froze. She shivered. And somewhere in the background... something in the engine creaked strangely.