Fear
"Fufu, it seems you can't resist seeing me."
Pandora's voice resonates, soft and melodic, almost like a song, but her words cut through my mind like icy blades. I can't feel my body—not even the familiar weight of my soul. There's only emptiness, an abyss in which I float, trapped in a disturbing calm, as the echo of her gentle laughter seems to reverberate through every corner of my being.
Everything about her is so unreal that it's impossible for me to tell if she's truly here or just an illusion.
Pandora draws closer, and her ocean-blue eyes wrap around me with such an intense shine that a shiver runs through me. Her hair, long and nearly translucent platinum, gleams like a cascade of light around her, and at that moment, my own body seems to surrender to the overwhelming perfection she radiates.
The grace in her movements, the calm in her expression—everything makes me feel small, insignificant.
'Unlike her, I…'
"In less than a week, can you believe it?" she asks softly, her tone laced with mocking humor. "Who would have thought I'd see you so… helpless?"
'We're no longer the same.'
I know exactly what she means, and my chest twists in a mix of hopelessness and terror, unlike anything I've ever felt so vividly before. Dying itself isn't the issue anymore; the real fear lies in the loss of what has always protected me, in the possibility that I no longer have a second chance.
"For someone so strong to live in a cycle of dying… it's got to be curious, right?" Pandora whispers, as if sharing a secret with a small child. "And it's not just curious… it's amusing to see you like this. Like an ant, struggling to escape its own fear."
She stands there, watching me, her deep, cold eyes tracing over me, a faint smile appearing on her lips. There's no anger in her gaze, only a calm so profound it's almost monstrous.
I realize that, for her, this is a scene she enjoys, a play she's crafted and delights in with every detail.
"Tell me," She says, her voice so soft it could be mistaken for a whisper, "How does it feel, Marco? How does it feel to stare into the abyss without knowing if you'll fall… or be saved in time?"
Every word wraps me in a new, different fear. The idea of my own mortality, the reality that now I'm as fragile as everyone else, turns into a truth that chokes me.
"Death isn't so terrifying when you know you'll come back, is it?" Pandora continues, her words delicate as the edge of a blade. "But when every breath could be your last… oh, Marco, that's when things get interesting."
As I'm dragged closer to a fear I've never known, her words seem to strip away the few certainties I have left. Everyone in this world faces life with just one shot, somehow living through and confronting things that are probably far worse than my own fears.
But I had immortality, and yet, in every encounter, I somehow died.
I was strong, but I've been weak at the critical moments.
"You have great magical ability," she goes on, her tone that of someone assessing a possession, something that belongs to her. "Nature strength and talent. You train every day, facing knights, even an archbishop. You're pretty impressive… for a mere man." She leans forward, her shining hair spilling over her shoulders as her gaze penetrates mine with calculated calm. "Not everyone achieves so much without becoming… weak."
Pandora moves closer slowly, and her white dress sways with her movements, a simple fabric that barely covers her figure but gives her an ethereal aura.
She observes me with that glacial calm I've only ever seen in statues, and for a second, I feel as if I'm being judged, weighed, evaluated, every part of me under her scrutiny.
I'm crucified, nailed to this place.
The familiarity of the situation is suffocating; the cold metal against my skin reminds me of that cell.
"You die, despite being strong," she says, her tone so serene it sounds like a final verdict. "Have you never wondered, Marco, what it would be like if everything you had… disappeared? If you faced this with nothing more than common, ordinary human fear?"
My body trembles, but it's nothing she notices or cares about. Her gaze remains fixed, her expression calm and satisfied, as if seeing me here, at her mercy, is exactly what she wanted.
"What would you have done if you appeared here without any power? With only the certainty that you would return after death?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, as if she genuinely wants to know the answer.
Her voice is a velvet whisper, almost warm, but her eyes are empty of emotion.
For a second, her question leaves me blank.
My thoughts are tangled, but the words slip out on their own.
"I would've died a thousand times to make up for my weakness."
Pandora smiles, and her expression is almost tender, though there's a cold, detached interest in her face. Her hand rises slowly, brushing against my cheek. Her touch is so soft, it sends a wave of discomfort through me.
There's no compassion in her touch—only a cold appreciation, as if she's touching something fragile and precious.
"You're part of a purpose, Marco Luz. You have something others don't, which is why I had to bring you into this world."
"Was it you?" My voice is barely a whisper, like I already knew the answer.
Her smile widens slightly, the light in her eyes intensifying, confirming it without a word.
"The current error is something artificially created," she says with a look of satisfaction as my thoughts spiral into confusion. She doesn't bother to explain; for her, it's unnecessary.
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling trapped in this crumbling reality. When I open them again, a strange calm washes over me, almost gratitude.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I murmur.
"Now, you must face it. So, I'll leave you with yourself."
Pandora leans in, planting a kiss on my forehead.
Her touch is so delicate, it could almost be a dream, but the chill that spreads through me is too real, so cold that I feel it seep into my mind, like she's left a trace of her presence inside me.
"This is the last time we'll see each other here. The next time will be in person, and I expect you to fulfill your purpose," she says, her voice low, almost a whisper.
"I'll do as I please. I'm not interested in the future you and Subaru have in mind."
Pandora smiles, but there's a flash of deep resentment in her eyes, though her tone remains unchanged.
"Don't mention that name. Let's not bring negative energy to what is a tender scene," she says with icy calm.
I feel the urge to ask, to know what happened, what Subaru did to earn her disdain, but before I can speak, Pandora fades away.
The surroundings begin to fragment, and reality hits me like a brutal, icy wave. Every sensation rushes back into my body, along with an inexplicable fear that presses down on my chest.
"We'll take a break," someone murmurs from somewhere, but honestly, I don't know where I am.
Something is different, so different that a shiver runs down my spine, cold and strange. It's as if, all of a sudden, the world has more weight, as if every corner and shadow is waiting for one misstep.
'Has it always felt this terrifying?'
A tingling sensation climbs up my spine and reaches my head, building up a pressure that threatens to spill over. My eyes start to water, and my hands tremble uncontrollably, as if even the air around me has grown heavy.
Thump!
I feel a sharp pain in my face, and my heart pounds so hard I can almost hear it echoing in my chest.
'I can die.'
Thump!
Each heartbeat throbs in my mind as the thought sinks into me with brutal clarity: a bullet, a sword, a fist, a curse… anything could kill me. Everything around me feels like a threat, from the air I breathe to the people at my back.
I'm nothing more than a single life, a fragile existence in a world where one life is the only chance.
'I can die.'
"I don't want to die," I whisper, my voice barely a murmur dissolving into the void.
My thoughts begin to spiral, falling down a dark pit.
Thump!
Thump!
I'm weak now, and even if I were to regain all the power I once had, I could still die. If someone poisons me, if I'm stabbed, if I make a mistake while using magic, even if I waste the tiniest bit of mana.
I can die like anyone else… like everyone else who lives in this world.
Every action, every second could be my last.
'I can die.' 'I can die.'
"I don't want to; I don't want to die."
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Death used to be just a passing state, something I was certain of but never feared because I knew I'd come back. Coming back from death was a guarantee; it allowed me to be fearless, gave me a courage that was never real.
And now, I'm nothing more than a human in a world where everyone else is so much more than that.
A human among beings who could kill me with a single glance, a single mistake.
'I could die.'
'I could die.'
'I could die.'
The pain in my face intensifies; a burning sensation I would've ignored before, but now it feels like it could be a sign of something worse. 'What if it gets infected?' 'What if the person who touched me had some kind of disease?' I could die just from breathing the wrong air.
'I don't want to die.'
'I don't want to die.'
'I don't want to die.'
'I don't want to die.'
Not now, not when I'm just beginning to understand what it means to want to live, not now that I can feel what I used to ignore, what I once thought was insignificant. Not now, when my best friend needs help, when my decisions matter in a real way, when lives depend on my ability to survive.
'Can I do it?'
My breathing grows heavier; the air doesn't reach my lungs like it should. My vision blurs, and the sounds of the outside world become distant, as if I'm left alone with the frantic pounding of my own heart.
Thump! Thump!
This fear is different. It's not the fear of failing to save others or making an unforgivable mistake. It's the raw fear of death, the terror of knowing that if I fail, there's no coming back.
And even though I want to keep going, my heart beats with such an erratic rhythm that it forces me to face the harsh truth I now confront.
Thump! Thump!
Thump! Thump!
I could die. That's the truth.
"Marco."
I look up, still dazed, as the echo of my fear settles into every fiber of my being. 'I have to find a way to survive,' I think, like a ray of hope amidst the chaos.
If I play this carefully, if I plan every move...
But a thought creeps into my mind.
Crusch… she met with Fourier.
My only clue as to what happened.
I couldn't even defend myself when she attacked me.
So, if I consider Roswaal and what he thinks he knows...
He believes that by pushing me to the brink of death, he'll force me to rewind time, a sign that he and Natsuki Subaru are playing together in this game. However, now I know that Pandora isn't allied with them.
'What if Natsuki Subaru doesn't know I've lost the power to return from death?'
"Marco."
Someone's voice tries to pull me from my thoughts.
My heart keeps pounding furiously, as if it's struggling to overcome the panic.
If they believe I still possess that power, and if they try to use me… The irony of my situation becomes obvious, and a bitter emptiness fills me as I remember how I once despised that ability, how I abandoned it when I could've actually used it for something more.
Now, without it, I'm left with the same mortality as everyone else.
"Damn it."
"Marco!" I hear Emilia's voice, but it barely registers.
I try to focus, but my mind feels wrapped in fog, a thick weight of thoughts and fears trapping me.
'Is this fear?'
It's not the fear of losing something but the raw, absolute terror of death.
My body aches, and it's a worry that now consumes me. Everything feels different—the situation, my citizens, my friends. I can no longer afford to act without thinking because there's no turning back.
Every step I take could be my last, and that weighs on me like an inescapable reality.
'The human body is surprising,' I think, remembering how I'd ignored it.
Now, I'm back to being one of them, a human being.
'I don't want to die.'
The thought is so clear, so visceral, that it anchors in my mind as an absolute need. I want to live, I want to meet people, I want to care for my people, I want to see the progress of the technology we develop together.
By accepting my emotions, by no longer ignoring or repressing them, I now feel more vulnerable than ever, exposed to a fear I hadn't known until this moment. 'Why now?' 'Why here, at the precise moment I need to seem emotionless?'
A metallic taste fills my mouth, the bitter taste of blood, while the air I breathe also reeks of iron and open flesh.
"Marco, can you hear me?" Emilia's voice filters into my mind, and my eyes try to focus on her figure.
But my thoughts can't reach her.
'I'm scared.'
It's an unavoidable truth; there's no escape now. Now that I'm human, I have to face my emotions like anyone else, like a being with so much to lose. No, that's not entirely true. I've always been human, but I never allowed myself to be... until Emilia showed me what it means to accept oneself, until she showed me this fear of the unknown.
"Marco, I'm going to heal you, stay still." I feel Emilia's hands searching for my wounds. "Don't move, alright?"
"Wait!" I say urgently, my voice tense and trembling. "You have to be careful… remove the bacteria too… no, replace my blood, it could be infected. Check for damage beyond the wound on my face, by the… Ugh! It hurts too much."
My words are cut off by the pain. I can barely see her face clearly, and my thoughts remain unfocused, tangled in a panic that fills every corner of my mind.
"Marco?"
I want to breathe, but the very act feels suffocating. My lungs feel tight, as if the air escapes from me every time I try to take it in.
"Ugh," I gasp, struggling for air, as if each attempt leaves me even emptier.
"Calm down, you're scaring me," Emilia says, and I feel the warmth of her magic healing my wounds. Slowly, the taste and smell of blood fade away, replaced by momentary peace.
"It hurts... my heart…" I murmur, and I feel Emilia take my hand, squeezing it tightly.
That simple contact seems to wake me, like an anchor in the storm of my thoughts. My senses begin to focus, and then I see a fleeting image: Crusch walking away with Marcus.
'Get up!' I order myself, but my body remains paralyzed.
I can't conceive the idea that Crusch is a traitor, not after everything we've been through. Though I'm wrapped in doubt and pain, my mind refuses to accept that she would harm me of her own will.
Yet, my hands tremble and my body doesn't respond.
'Move!'
'Move!'
Gritting my teeth, I feel control over my body slipping away.
'MOVE, DAMN IT!'
All the certainty I once had, that strength that allowed me to move forward without fear, dissolves into an abyss of panic. My body, the one that always obeyed every command, now feels like a broken puppet, disconnected from me.
Then, a deeper pain pierces my chest, one that isn't soothed by Emilia's healing.
It's the pain of knowing, finally, that I'm mortal.
A stab of pain makes me double over, and my breathing becomes erratic, each breath an effort that blurs my vision.
"Miss Emilia!" I hear Reinhard's voice, but his words only echo as I try to rise.
"Help me!" he yells.
The weight of panic and the fear of death is suffocating.
My vision blurs, and the world around me fades into a whirlwind of shadows.
I barely feel a light tap on my neck before everything goes dark.
The next thing I feel is the softness of a couch and the warmth of delicate hands, gently touching my forehead. I know immediately they belong to Emilia; I can recognize her touch, her tenderness.
Her hands caress me with a care that brings a fleeting calm, like the glow of a candle in the darkness. But fear remains, nesting in my chest. Anxiety consumes me, the pressure of not wanting to fail, the terror of existence itself.
"I... I'm scared," I murmur, opening my eyes to find her face, her eyes full of surprise and concern.
"Marco?" Emilia asks, and her voice holds a depth of worry I've never heard so clearly before.
She keeps stroking my forehead, her soft fingers gliding with warmth that wraps around me.
They aren't like those cold fingers.
They are fingers filled with kindness.
Lying on her lap, I gaze up at her, unable to do anything else, caught in her amethyst gaze.
I need to think, to convince myself I have to block out the fear and assess the situation. But the fear doesn't go away, doesn't dim like before, so I lose myself again in her eyes, as if she were the anchor keeping me safe from my own thoughts.
Emilia watches me in silence, her eyes conveying something deep, as though she could tell me everything I need to hear without words.
'Take it easy, tell me everything,' her eyes seem to say.
"Crusch... Crusch is going to try to kill me," I tell her, my voice trembling, barely in control. "I can't tell you how I know, but I'm sure something's been done to her. It can't be that Crusch would want to kill me… and I don't want to die."
The worry on Emilia's face intensifies; she opens her eyes slightly, then closes them, taking a deep breath.
"Fuu~~." Her sigh is long, so deep it seems to fill the room with comforting silence, as if she were trying to absorb all my anxiety with her calm.
As I watch her, I notice that her expression is different from the one I surely have at this moment. The softness in her face contrasts with the desperation I feel in my chest, and her eyes reflect a tenderness that disarms me.
I blink several times, my eyelids trembling with an involuntary twitch, as if I couldn't even control something so simple.
"Are you afraid of dying?" she asks, her voice carrying a sadness I understand all too well.
I had always been incapable of fearing death.
For as long as I can remember, I never considered it an important fact.
My sense of responsibility stifled any unnecessary emotion.
By the time I was able to love, I was forced to suppress them even harder.
By then, I only desired it.
Death.
But my responsibility wouldn't allow it; not until I completed the investigation and could release it to the world. That's why I didn't fight too hard, why I felt calm when he shot me.
The only ones I worried about were the elderly; that's why I made the escape routes.
When I saw I could have a new life in this world, I didn't fear it either.
With the power to return from death, there was no such need.
That power, a blessing and a curse at once, had separated me from humanity itself. But now, without it, I feel exposed, defenseless.
The human frailty I could never face.
'Does everyone live like this?'
"I... I've never felt like I do now."
Emilia gives me a slight smile, but I can see in her eyes the inner struggle she's waging to stay calm.
"That's because the Marco of today isn't the same as before," she says softly. She places a hand on my cheek, and her gaze pierces through me, as if she wants to reach the most hidden corner of my being. "Like your parents told me; Marco Luz isn't capable of feeling emotions like others, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. That's when I realized: you're very cold."
"Cold?" I ask, surprised. "I always tried to make everything go well… I know I'm not the warmest person, but..."
Emilia shakes her head softly, and a mischievous smile appears on her lips.
"You're always warm with everyone." Her hands cap my cheeks, and there's a playful glint in her eyes. "Hehe, that's one of the things I love about you."
Her light laughter fills the room, her words resonating in my ears, stirring a reaction I didn't expect.
I smile, instinctively.
It's a faint smile, barely a flicker, but she notices, and her laughter softens, as if it's exactly what she hoped to see.
"But you're so hard on yourself." Her expression shifts to genuine concern. "It's painful, it's sooo painful to watch you treat yourself this way."
Emilia's silent tears continue to fall, each one striking a painful echo of my own emotions.
Her hand, steady and warm, stays on my cheek, radiating a strength and tenderness I don't know how to manage. In this moment, it feels like all the fear consuming me crashes against her calm, losing some of its weight.
"Marco, you don't have to be strong all the time, I've told you that before," she whispers.
Her voice is soft, but the depth of her words reverberates within me.
"We all need help sometimes, and… I'm here for you."
Her words wrap around me with an indescribable warmth. I feel the slight tremble of her hand, but she doesn't pull back even an inch. Her face is so close that her eyes, filled with worry, seem to see beyond my thoughts, touching each dark corner where I'd hidden my feelings.
She's my anchor, my lifeline in this abyss of terror.
Somehow, each word, each gentle touch, keeps me from building a barrier to hold my emotions back.
"If you feel afraid… that's okay. It also means you have something worth living for, something you want to protect, something you don't want to lose." Her tenderness pierces me to the core.
'I understand.'
This fear, instead of being a weakness, is a sign that I finally want to live—for real this time.
Without saying a word, I feel the impulse to embrace her, to hold her, to tell her how much she means to me.
But I know she already understands.
That certainty calms me, and the tremor in my hands subsides, the terror melting into a murmur as the warmth of her words begins to dissolve the darkness within me.
Anger.
Rage.
A whirlwind of emotions overtakes me as I realize I've made Emilia cry—not out of happiness, but out of worry.
"I… I can't say I'm the most qualified or know as much about the mind as you do," she murmurs, a faint smile crossing her face. "Maybe Rem or Crusch, or even Petra, would give you better words; Lyza, Petra's mom, always gives me advice when I spend time with her."
The way she looks at me, with eyes overflowing with affection, turns her voice into a warm melody in my ears.
"But, from my perspective, you're starting something important. My Marco is going to start living—not just out of responsibility, but… also for himself!." Her smile grows warmer, her eyes narrowing in a gesture of affection. "Living isn't easy. Look at me—it hasn't been easy for me either. I've cried, I've laughed, I've been scared… but I don't want to hide it! I don't want to do that, no."
Emilia tilts her head, as if organizing her thoughts, trying to express herself with her usual sweetness.
"Watching everyone, I've learned things…" She pauses, looking at me with overwhelming honesty. "Thanks to what I've gone through with everyone, I've managed to find my own path. And, though it may sound bad, you're a great example of what not to do."
My lips press together as I hear this.
"No, no! I don't mean you're bad, not at all!" She quickly waves her hands, her gestures endearing as her gaze turns a bit lost, searching for me with a mix of affection and embarrassment. "You're… you're someone who's incredibly considerate, and when you look at people, it's with such warmth…"
Embarrassment washes over her, her cheeks flushing a deep red.
Flustered, she tries to continue.
"Anyway!" she exclaims, her voice almost childlike, as if her mind has shut down from embarrassment. "The Marco of now… has to face the body and the emotions he's denied for so long, right?"
My eyes widen in surprise.
I knew I had to confront this; I've known it all along, but Emilia's words reach me differently.
Even though it's something I've preached to myself, I always refused to do it.
I refused to feel, to confront my own humanity, because my sense of duty made me suppress any emotion that didn't serve that purpose.
But now, these emotions can't wait any longer.
The pressure, the fear, and the desire to live have all erupted inside me, demanding to be heard.
"I don't know if I said it right, maybe… I probably didn't, hehe," she whispers, with a nervous but genuine laugh. "I'm not very good at giving advice, but…"
"It's perfect," I reply with a smile, still feeling the fear lodged in my chest.
That fear—the fear of death—is the first sign that my body is connected to me again. In that moment, I feel my senses return, reminding me what pain is, what it's like to be vulnerable.
I remember the sting of bullets, the brutal impact of each blow, the terror of seeing those I love in danger.
Thump!
My heart races again, my breath becoming shallow, with fear still anchored deep in my chest.
"Marco, listen to it," Emilia murmurs with an almost maternal softness, drawing me toward her chest.
The rhythm of her heartbeat echoes in my ears, and, little by little, an unfamiliar warmth fills me, though the chill of fear still clings to my bones.
"Listen," she says, with a sweetness only she could express. "This is my heart… this is my care for you, and for everyone."
Emilia begins to gently stroke my back, resting her cheek against my head. Her steady breathing, each exhaling a whisper that seems to dissolve my fear, reminds me of an old song, a melody that somehow feels familiar.
"My mother Fortuna would do this when I was scared," she continues, her voice a soft murmur in the silence. "She'd hold me close and make me listen to her heart… so I'd know that she was alive, that there was someone beside me who was alive."
"Can you hear it?" she asks, and her words fill me with inexplicable peace.
"Yes," I reply softly, feeling, for the first time, like a child seeking refuge.
"Good, hehe… you're like a little kid," she teases gently, and although I want to respond, I know she's right.
"But my Marco has many things to do, and I… your Emilia has her own things, too," she whispers, her face flushed with embarrassment despite her smile. "My Marco doesn't give up so easily."
"My Marco?"
She watches me for a moment, her eyes still embarrassed but resolute.
"Yes… my Marco."
I try to gather my thoughts, forcing my mind to search for answers as time ticks away and Crusch draws closer. The words she said when she fired still echo in my head: 'I should've done it the moment I saw you'… 'Die for everything you've done!'
None of it makes sense.
There's no logic in those words—not coming from Crusch, who has always been a loyal friend.
Crusch didn't look at me with hatred before.
Something about all of this is wrong, something I can't fully grasp.
I lift myself from Emilia's lap and sit on the couch, my body still trembling from the fear that fills every corner of my being. I run a hand along my chin, scratching lightly, searching my mind for any clue, any detail that might help me unravel the mystery of her words. The fear within me blends with the urge to find an answer, to use it to force memories out, because my life depends on it.
"Fu…" I let out a long sigh, and in the process, my hand finds Emilia's.
Our fingers intertwine, and I feel the warmth of her skin against mine, grounding me. My grip tightens, as if her hand can calm my soul and hold the weight of everything pressing down on me.
"I'm too weak to defeat Crusch," I admit, feeling the fear creep back in, filling me with doubt.
"Then I'll do it," Emilia responds, with a calm that catches me off guard.
I look up at her, but instead of doubt or fear, I see determination in her eyes. The love and resolve she shows are so deep that, for a moment, I'm left speechless.
"Do you not have doubts? Crusch is our friend."
Emilia squeezes my hand tighter and nods, her lips set in a firm line.
"It hurts," she admits, with a sincerity that breaks me, "but if you're saying it, there must be a reason. The Marco I love doesn't lie without reason. I just have to stop her, right?"
Her words hit me like a gentle wave that washes away the weight of my fear and doubt, and I feel myself being wrapped up, healed.
I close my eyes, trying to absorb what she's saying, struggling to find an answer as a spark of clarity begins to take shape in my mind.
If I think about Fourier and the influence he might have had on Crusch… the kind of contact he could have had with her, and what that might mean. And then, an idea strikes me.
'Touch?'
My mind goes back to Echidna's spellbooks, to her studies in the darkest of arts, and only one of those books comes to mind: Curses. A tome filled with her experiments in cursed spells, ones that could wreak havoc on a person's body and mind.
I stand and look out the window, watching as the moon shines high and full in the sky.
Midnight: When the moon is at its peak.
"A curse…" I murmur, turning my gaze back to Emilia, but I feel my expression darken as I consider what this could mean. "We don't have Beatrice here to break it."
A glimmer of worry reflects in her eyes.
I take a breath, try to calm down, and continue.
"Frey could have cursed Crusch to manipulate her fear, to make her emotions control her and see someone else in my place."
"Why would Frey do that? I never saw him as a bad person," Emilia asks, tilting her head with that gesture so uniquely hers, so sweet and full of sincerity.
I respond with just a look, and I see her eyes slowly start to understand.
"Do you remember the fight against the Witch's Cult at the Flugel Tree?"
"I'm not stupid, Marco," she answers, puffing her cheeks in a small pout that nearly makes her worried expression disappear. "I know this goes deeper than I can see."
Her determination surprises me, along with that intuition of hers that feels so… endearing.
Sweet like a child's, yet with the strength of someone who's known pain and kept going.
'So precious!'
I brush her hand, keeping my gaze fixed on her.
'She's changed so much.'
I can't get enough appreciation, and in some way, I am feeling proud.
'It's time she knows.'
"Crusch was actually…"
"Don't say it!" she interrupts, intertwining her fingers with mine and holding them tightly. "I think I know what you're about to say, but I don't want to hear it from you. I want to wait—I want to hear it from her. I want Crusch to tell me when she's ready. I want her to trust me."
Emilia looks at me with a sadness so deep that my own heart feels pulled into her melancholy. In that moment, I see how pure and strong her soul is, a light that seems to shine even in the darkest night.
Hope in the middle of this chaos.
"You're an angel," I say, my voice barely a whisper but full of sincerity. "Really… Emilia is an angel."
A slight smile forms on my lips, and I feel the fear start to ease, to turn into something softer, more bearable, thanks to her.
"I'm normal! Yes, I'm normal. You're the strange one!" Emilia retorts, pointing at me with a determined finger as her eyes shine with resolve. "How can we help her?"
There's a spark of confidence in her voice, but the truth weighs on me like a stone. The problem is, I don't know how to remove the curse. Even though my sensitivity to mana and miasma has increased, dealing with a curse is a different story.
I have to extract the curse from Crusch's body.
And if I mess up… I could kill her.
What's more, the curse could transfer to me.
"Reinhard… he seems to know a lot. Couldn't he help us?" Emilia's suggestion pulls me out of the whirlwind of dark thoughts.
"Go find him," I tell her, feeling like that might be our only option.
Reinhard Van Astrea, the Sword Saint, gifted with abilities beyond anyone else. I'm sure he has the power to ward off any curse. If I manage to pull the curse from Crusch, and in that brief moment, I pass the burden to Reinhard, maybe, just maybe, he could erase it.
'I've never tried it, but in theory, it should work.'
But when I look back at Emilia, she shakes her head.
"I won't leave you alone with Crusch," she declares, her voice firm and resolved. Understanding part of my plan, she rejects it outright. "You're not healed; you can't stop her. You need to go find him yourself."
I shake my head, feeling the weight of the decision I have to make.
"There must be conditions for the curse to activate. It's possible the curse could kill Crusch, so I have to remove it immediately."
Her expression turns serious, and I can see worry settle into her features.
"But then you'll suffer it. You could die."
I try to smile, though fear clings to my words, and I tremble as I speak. My hands are still shaking, and my teeth won't stop clattering.
"I know, but… don't I have the best healer of all time?" I wink, trying to bring a little lightness to the heavy air around us.
"Hmph! I'm nowhere near that yet." She smiles, standing with a look of both determination and a hint of joy.
Her eyes shine with that light only she can bring, and for an instant, the fear eases slightly. Yet the urgency of our situation weighs heavily on us.
She heads to the door.
But before she leaves, I speak.
"Emilia, I'm scared," I confess, letting down my facade of strength. It's the truth, and in her presence, I can let myself be vulnerable.
She stops, slowly turning back toward me with an expression of deep empathy.
"I know. So, what are you going to do?" she asks, her voice a soft challenge, a call to action.
I look at her, feeling the connection between us intensify. In that moment, the warmth of her gaze and her words intertwine with my own desire to live, and for the first time, I believe I can face what's coming.
"I'm going to face whatever I have to, not just for me, but for you and everyone else," I tell her, and in her eyes, I see a mix of pride and relief.
'Who would have thought I'd end up being lectured and uplifted twice in a row by Emilia?'
She smiles, and that smile is a beacon guiding me forward.
"Then let's do it together."
Knock! Knock!
My heart skips a beat, a dull thud resounding in my chest. I clutch my chest tightly, feeling how fear seizes every corner of my being as I look at the door, which seems to grow farther and farther away.
"Crusch," Emilia says, opening the door, her voice full of concern. "You don't look well."
Crusch's gaze is heavy, as if she's trapped in a distant place, just like the first time I saw her in that cruel reality. I can feel the curse has already started to take hold of her, and that fills me with a profound terror.
"I'll be right back," Emilia says, rushing out into the hallway, leaving Crusch surprised.
"She went to ask Reinhard for something," I murmur; there's no point lying to someone who can see right through lies.
Crusch completely ignores my comment, her gaze drifting as she scans the surroundings, as if searching for something no longer there.
If I want to help her, I have to disarm her.
Yet her mana is an obstacle I can't ignore.
Still, I have a trick up my sleeve.
I reach into my jacket, feeling the pyroxene crystal inside. The idea of absorbing Crusch's mana crosses my mind, leaving only the curse behind, but I'm aware of the risk.
If I make a mistake, I could kill her.
'I can't afford to fail.'
I clench my fists tightly, my teeth and lips tense, as tension courses through me.
"You don't look well," I say, searching for a connection, a way to reach the truth hidden beneath her pain.
"They want you dead," she replies, turning her back to me, which gives me the chance to step closer.
I place my hand on her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric.
'I have to try to see beyond.'
"We're not talking about me," I clarify, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Doesn't your life matter to you?" Her question is direct, but it hurts more than I expected.
I try to sense deeper, attempting to peer through the door to Crusch. I close my eyes, trying to look beyond the surface, but all I find is emptiness.
Yet I can feel it.
It's like an electric current running through my hand, a vibration that tells me something is very wrong with Crusch. The pain of using mana hits me square in the chest, so I stop.
I can't afford to lose caution, so I take a few steps back, giving her space.
"I'm more afraid of losing you," I confess, feeling how fear mingles with the urgency to protect her.
"Sounds like a confession," she replies, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes.
"You're my friend, after all. I can't help but worry about you," I say, my voice a whisper filled with a sincerity I don't want to hide.
"Emilia would get jealous," she jokes, a faint smile appearing as she turns toward me, her face lighting up again.
The light in her eyes gives me a breath of relief, though tension lingers in the air like a fragile thread threatening to snap at any moment.
"Are you okay?" Crusch asks, her tone turning serious once more.
"Just a bit shaken. I'm nervous," I reply, trying to stay steady as fear courses through my veins like poison.
She closes her eyes slightly, turning her back to me again, and I feel the connection between us tighten.
"Fourier asked me to meet with him. He said I'll have to go on a mission soon. My father, my people—everyone is in danger," she explains, pressing her hands to her head, her voice a murmur laden with unease. "I don't know what to do."
"Do what he says," I advise, urgency slipping into my words. If her family and loved ones are in danger, she can't play with fire.
"I won't kill anyone" she responds defiantly, though her gaze betrays the fragility of her resolve.
"You don't have to. Remember, we're in this together; besides, you should tell Emilia," I insist, feeling that each word is a thread that could bring us closer.
She looks at me firmly, clenching her fists.
"I… I don't want to."
"She has to know. She's your friend."
Crusch is trying to protect Emilia, as well as her people.
The logic behind her fear is understandable, but the silence she keeps is consuming her. If I didn't know who Crusch Karsten truly was, I would never guess that Frey Karsten is actually Fourier Lugunica, nor that Crusch is Crusch Karsten.
"You're right," she whispers, her gaze growing heavy. "But something stops me."
And then, the atmosphere shifts.
My senses sharpen, every fiber of my being on alert.
I knew this would happen; I'd anticipated it, yet the impact is overwhelming.
The air grows thick, and the room glows with an almost unreal radiance, as if time itself has frozen and the outside world has vanished. Amid the confusion, I sense that this is only the beginning of what's to come.
THUMP!
My heart pounds, echoing in my ears like a war drum.
It's as if time melts away, leaving everything in slow motion.
My legs buckle, and in a final effort, I try to stay upright, but the weight of the situation is too much.
"MARCO LUZ!"
Bang!
The sound of the shot reverberates in my mind, and I feel as though the bullet is piercing my heart. Yet when I open my eyes, reality hits me—I'm not dead.
My knees, bent and trembling, tell me everything. "I reacted instinctively." Fear has granted me a momentary clarity, allowing me to anticipate Crusch's move with my body, not my mind.
Cold sweat drips down my forehead as I struggle to remain in control.
"You're running away!" Crusch exclaims, her voice filled with rage, as she tries to lower her weapon. But I see the opportunity, and from the floor, I push off, stretching my arms with all my strength, launching myself toward her like an uncontrolled projectile.
The impact makes me feel as if the world stops.
"Ugh!" A cry escapes my lips as pain surges through every fiber of my being.
Crusch remains motionless, trapped in her own thoughts, as if she's fighting ghosts from her past.
'Mana reinforcement.' I remember what we learned by observing Emilia—the ability to force mana to flow through every fiber of my muscles. I feel my bones creak, but desperation drives me forward.
"She'd already learned from Wilhelm, so now no one can beat her." I reach out, grab Crusch's wrist and look her straight in the eye.
"Crusch! Crusch!" I shout her name, calling out to the woman I still recognize amid her torment. "Please!"
But before I can finish, a knee to my stomach sends me rolling across the floor, pain crashing over me in waves, drowning me. I land beside a counter, feeling the cold, hard floor against my back.
"You shouldn't have come back! You shouldn't have shown up in front of me again!" Crusch yells, her eyes filled with tears, each one falling like a stone in the silence, giving me strength.
I knew it—she's not a traitor.
Bang!
A new shot heads toward my torso, but I manage to dodge it, dragging myself to the side with an agility that surprises even me. The danger keeps me alert, survival instincts pushing my body to move.
'Crusch wants to kill Fourier.' The thought settles heavily in my mind, her desire for vengeance burning between us. If I want to stop Crusch, I'll have to use mana too; I can't defeat someone this strong with only the fragile strength I have left.
My eyes scan the room, searching for anything that might help. In the distance, I see a table with a bottle of ink for writing.
My heart races at the glimmer of possibility.
"I give up! You're too strong!" The words spill from my lips, thick with desperation and fear.
My hands shake; my eyes can barely stay open.
But, despite it all, my body hasn't surrendered.
I won't let Crusch kill me, nor will I let her die.
Life is singular for us all, so I must protect her, even if it means facing her.
Crusch smiles—a melancholic smile, like someone trapped in a dream they can't escape.
"I did it wrong, I know. I let my situation get the worst of me." I try to get up, but Crusch points at me firmly, her gaze like steel.
"Don't move!" she yells, and I instinctively lower myself, showing my inferiority to her.
The floor feels like my only refuge.
It's a dream, one where Crusch triumphs over Fourier. But I don't believe it; the Crusch I know doesn't seek victory for the sake of superiority.
"Look, I don't have any weapons, let alone mana." I raise my hands, kneeling slightly—a silent plea. "Truly, Crusch, you saved me."
It's a dream where Fourier accepts he ruined things and deserves to die for it.
I try to stand, but she keeps her weapon fixed on me, ready to fire.
I could die at any moment; it could end with a single misstep, with any poorly chosen word.
So, I have to treasure every action, every breath.
I need to understand my body, to learn to control it.
I can't force it; I can't think it's wrong to feel fear.
I have to act with what I have and improve at each step.
"Why did you do it?" Crusch's gaze is that of someone who's lost everything, an echo of desperation resonating in my heart.
Then my chest tightens, because, in a way, I'm responsible for her suffering.
I treated her situation as something unchangeable; I forgot her own goals. I said she was my friend, but deep down, I'd forgotten what made her Crusch Karsten.
Somewhere along the way, she became just Crusch, as if the effect of the gluttony ability had attacked me too.
"I'm a scumbag."
"I had no other choice… They brought me back to bring chaos to this world."
It's a dream for her, so whether her divine blessing activates or not, it won't matter.
Maybe my words are the truth I fear to face.
I stand slowly, walking toward her as her weapon begins to tremble in her hands.
The traces of mana weaken, and with it, a revelation settles in my mind.
'Soundproofing magic.'
The reason no one came to rescue me before, the reason the outside world remains oblivious to our fight. Fourier had cast a spell in this room, a trick he used in our camp to his advantage.
He knew Crusch would do this.
'A mission.'
The curse he placed on her.
"You were the Lion King. No matter how difficult the situation is, you never abandoned your pride; you always found a way to lead everyone in the right direction."
"Maybe only from your perspective."
I can help her; I can guide her to a different path. Even if my life is on the line, I want to help her find an answer. I walk slowly toward her as she backs away, stopping only when she collides with the table behind her.
I move closer, so close that I feel the barrel of her gun pressing against my chest.
"Well, now my life depends on you."
Fourier must have thought that, by amplifying her desire to kill him, Crusch would shoot without hesitation. In this world, the ideas about life are different, but Crusch isn't like that.
Especially not with someone like Fourier.
'She must've thought about shooting me when she saw Fourier turning his back on her, who knows what she's heard.'
"You should've come to see me; you should've asked for my help as soon as you came back." She's still crying, and all I can do is slowly move my hand.
"I couldn't."
"THEN WHY? Why did you take everything from me? My life, the people I love, my family…" Her voice cracks, and I see how her hands barely manage to hold the gun. "My goals, my desire to move forward. Why did you take it all away?"
I press my lips together, holding back the rage that's replaced my fear. As she holds the gun, I stop shaking. A burning fury, a fire that echoes in my heart. I clench my fists tightly, feeling Crusch's emotions as if they pierce my own soul.
For a moment, I almost feel like my own tears are about to fall.
'Damn it…'
I know there's not much I can do, but there's one thing I should've done.
Talk to her, ask her how I could help.
Crusch Karsten is the strongest of all; that perception was seared into me. Memories of when we sang, when we danced, moments when we almost let ourselves get lost in life.
To me, Crusch Karsten was a pillar.
No, she still is.
Crusch Karsten is a pillar in my life, an unbreakable foundation that's always held me up. What I didn't understand is that even pillars need care, that sometimes the weight they carry is too much and needs to be lifted.
"Answer me!" she shouts, her voice filled with despair.
In her gaze, I see the fragility of her strength; the light in her eyes dims, and I realize that there's little I need to do.
She's given up.
"I'm sorry." I place my hand on her neck, feeling for her carotid artery. The warmth of her skin contrasts with the coldness starting to seep into my chest. "I promise I'll help you. This time, I'll be the friend I never was."
I apply gentle pressure, watching as her body relaxes, as the weight of her struggle collapses. In seven seconds, her consciousness fades. I release my hand immediately, aware of the responsibility I hold at this moment.
I want to prevent any harm to her brain; time is crucial.
"I… I did it." A sigh of relief fills the room, as if the tension that had saturated the air has finally dissipated. I've found a way to respond to my fear, to figure out how to help Crusch.
But then, a chill runs down my spine.
"Ug, Agh!" Crusch's face starts turning purple, her lips taking on a blue tint.
It feels almost like I'm the one suffocating, despair gripping my throat.
"Shit!" I check her pulse.
It's slowing down, as if time itself is halting.
I infuse mana into my eyes, sharpening my senses, and I see Crusch's mana beginning to drain, revealing something else: a wound, tiny, like a pinprick.
'Another curse.'
When a curse activates, it can't be stopped.
But it's still mana.
And I have something that can absorb it. The power of having hands that can do anything, the power of the Unseen Hand.
A skill born from infinite sloth, but because of that, it has infinite uses.
"I could die," I whisper, terror nesting in my chest. Not only do I have to control the miasma in my body, but also the backlash against my own doorway.
What I'm about to do is nearly suicide.
My hands start trembling, and my erratic breathing interrupts my thoughts. The air in the room feels thick, as if time itself has stopped, trapping me in a moment of pure anxiety.
"It's time to act. Emilia should be here any second, but if I wait any longer, you're going to die," I say to Crusch, but her vacant stare tells me she doesn't hear me.
'I'll save you.'
Suddenly, a small hand emerges from my back, almost like it belongs to a baby. I feel the miasma swelling around me, but instead of rejecting it, I try to push it out. To my surprise, something starts to happen: the glintstone crystal on my suit begins to glow.
'I will help you.'
A melodious voice, the voice of someone I care about deeply.
Tears fill my eyes, but now there is no time to lose.
"Understood, Master."
'So, my daughter was hiding her brother from me.'
'I'll punish her when I see her.'
I look at the hand made of pure darkness, and a deep unease settles in my stomach, making me feel incredibly nauseous. 'I can't last long.' I have to endure both curses until Reinhard arrives.
With extreme caution, I move my hand toward her head. If I want to withstand both parasites, I must hold only one and bear the other.
'I'll help you take the hit.'
I nod, feeling my heart pounding, ready to burst out of my chest. I could die, or worse, have a psychotic break and kill Crusch.
'Will I see that man? Will I see Roswaal?'
No, even I know the answer.
My greatest regret in this world is none other than myself.
I take on the curse, feeling its corrosive power start to break down my mind as I get closer. I look at her for a moment, but after swallowing hard, I stop thinking.
I'll trust my body, my instinct to survive.
"Take the other one, quick!"
I grab the curse from her chin, the one that drains her mana.
"I'll try to get rid of it if that redhead doesn't show up, but you might die instantly."
"Does Puck know Reinhard?" I wonder, before focusing on my target.
A mist begins to grow around me. It feels like I'm floating, as if everything around me is turning unreal. I know the Crusch in front of me is real, but I can't be entirely sure. I try to touch her, but my hand passes through her.
"Damn it!" I exclaim, falling backward.
Grass surrounds me, and I find myself in the middle of a forest. In front of me stands the version of myself I despise the most.
"You killed her," I say to Marco Luz, no, to the monster standing before me. The one who can use Return by Death and treats others as if they don't matter. The one who knew he had a chance to see her again, and so believed he could do whatever he wanted.
The one whose sense of duty weighed more than any feeling.
"Yes, that's why I will die." His gaze shows no suffering; he genuinely doesn't care.
He can return from death and get everything back.
"You killed her, just as you watched them both die. Both Emilia and Rem—we watched them die in horrible ways."
"That's right, so what?" The monster stands up.
This is why, when you have that power, your humanity slips away.
"I can come back from death, so nothing matters. It doesn't matter if she dies or if I kill her. I just have to live with the memory; reality will be different."
I clench my hands and feel a gun in them.
"Seems like you managed to create something good. Too bad you lost that power; now that I know, I won't make that mistake."
Back then, I was just a survival machine.
I didn't know what it meant to live.
"And you, you're worthless. You know that your way of surviving is to use your mind, but you fill it with emotions you can't control."
Even back then, I was reluctant to use the power at my whim.
"Looks like it's necessary now that I've seen the future. It's the most logical conclusion. What kept me from abusing that power was my knowledge of the future, my firm belief that I could handle it. That's why, ever since the situation with the cult, I began to consider it."
After all, I wasn't human.
Dying is dying—nothing more.
Still, I don't know why I never took that step; I don't understand how I didn't think it through more. Somehow, the last remnants of humanity within me clung to the idea of forgetting to use that power at will.
"I'll survive at any cost; then, I can enjoy this world."
"You won't. Your way of enjoying it will never be what you truly want."
I point the gun, staring at him intently.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"You're already dead; after all, you're a version of me that no longer exists."
"Are you sure?"
I nod, and he smiles.
"Then kill me."
"I will; this will put an end to the past."
I try to pull the trigger, but a sharp pain pierces my head.
"Marco!"
"Puck?"
My senses return for an instant, but what I see completely overwhelms me. I have the gun pointed at my own head while Crusch lies on the ground. The Unseen Hand has disappeared, which means:
'The curse is on me.'
I don't even have much mana left to consume.
"Marco!"
'Damn it, I'm going to die.'
Really.
I'm going to die.
I try to use the Unseen Reach, but nothing answers.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.'
I'm out of time.
"Marco!"
I look toward Emilia, who's running toward me with concern in her eyes. I have to get rid of it, I have to eliminate the curse.
I move my hands, gripping my chest tightly.
Reinhard moves swiftly, and everything turns into dark mist.
"Did I… save her?" I can't see—in fact, I can't feel anything.
'I'm going to die.'
"You fool! Marco, you're such a fool!" Emilia begins to cry, broken-hearted.
I try to lift my arm, but my body won't respond.
'So, I'm going to die.'
'After coming this far.'
I have no regrets; at least I managed to save her. They can take care of everything now. Fortunately, I left a legacy, a precedent.
A love for discovery.
"No, no, no, no, don't leave me. Marco, look at me! You can't leave me; you can't leave all of us."
"You have to hold on, Marco Luz; I still owe you a meal." Reinhard holds my hand.
I feel Emilia's magic, but it's not enough to repair what's happening inside me.
After all, I unknowingly broke part of this.
The circuit in my body—I broke my gate.
'What a time, indeed...'
'I have no rest.'