The world trembled.
The sky was torn apart by Satella's dark wings—gargantuan, endless, drenched in sorrow.
From within the endless blackness, a presence spilled forth, shredding the very fabric of reality as time and space twisted helplessly beneath its weight.
Shadows surged like a flood, thick and suffocating, devouring light and meaning.
The wind howled, a primal cry of the world itself, ripping everything from its place, and the sky—oh, the sky—wailed like a child mourning its own death.
And yet—
Subaru was still standing.
Bloodied. Gasping for breath... barely conscious.
His fingers trembled, bones aching with each twitch. His legs faltered like broken pillars. But he hadn't fallen.
He just… didn't know why he was still on his feet.
Why? What force kept his knees from buckling, his spine from collapsing? Was it stubbornness? Madness?
Or the unbearable weight of love? The promise he whispered again and again—I will save her.
He tried to reach Emilia.
But no sound came. His throat felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand. Every breath he drew was a miracle stolen from the void.
His heart… was shattered. Cracked down to its soul.
Her name echoed in his mind, a silent scream trapped behind clenched teeth: Emilia...
He staggered a step forward, arms reaching out through the storm of darkness. And yet, she drifted further, light slipping beneath a tide he could not stop.
His eyes locked onto Satella's silhouette. Not with fear. Not with hatred.
It was something more primal.
A feeling that shook his very being to the roots — something he didn't even have a name for.
It wasn't rage.
It wasn't grief.
It was reverence—the awe of a mortal staring into the abyss, and finding in it a twisted mirror of eternity.
The shadow surged from Satella's body like a sea unleashed.
And it swallowed Subaru whole.
It didn't just consume his body; it erased his existence. His voice, his image, his name… all devoured. Forgotten. Never to echo again.
Gone.
Emptiness. Silence A darkness infinite and crushing.
Time had lost its meaning.
The boundaries of memory dissolved like paper in water.
The moment of death still echoed in his mind, yet even pain no longer existed. Even regret was a luxury he could no longer afford.
No heartbeat. No breath. No thought. No hope.
Only… nothingness.
A purgatory beyond death. A silence that mocked the concept of life.
And then— "We finally meet, Natsuki Subaru."
The voice tore through the void, not with sound, but with presence. It pierced him, resonating with something deeper than flesh.
It was neither warm nor cold — but the power it carried was overwhelming.
It rippled outward like waves across a still lake.
As the shadows closed in like a suffocating blanket, two eyes emerged from the distance:
One was gray. The other, an abyssal black.
But they weren't just eyes...
They were truths.
The presence flowing from them seeped into Subaru's very essence, whispering memories that weren't his, sins he hadn't yet committed.
He instinctively tried to stand, but he couldn't move.
Maybe… he no longer had a body.
Even his thoughts felt formless, a drifting mist inside this place beyond.
"Who… are you?" he asked.
His voice came out with effort. He had no breath, yet he could speak.
The rules here were different.
Speech wasn't a physical act — it was an echo of the soul.
A figure stepped out from the darkness.
It wore a long cloak — flowing, unearthly, as if its very existence was woven into it.
Not fabric, but something stitched from shadow itself. The edges of the cloak seemed to dissolve into mist, only to reform with each breath Subaru didn't take.
Its face… resembled Subaru's.
But the eyes had never been his. In those eyes… lingered echoes of the past.
Scars of countless memories. Ashes of unnumbered lives. A reflection warped by time and choice.
"Interesting," the figure said, tilting its head slightly.
"That's the first thing you ask? How many deaths is this for you, Subaru? Seventy? A hundred? Perhaps a thousand? But you… you haven't died as many times as they have."
Subaru remained silent.
There was a hum inside him — a tension, a weight, a cold pressure that pressed down on his soul like gravity given form.
The figure took a step forward.
The void beneath its feet unraveled, folding like silk.
Even this place—the graveyard of existence—bowed in reverence to it.
Each step left a mark on the surface of the darkness, like a signature etched in shadow.
"The answer is simple," it said. "I… am you, Natsuki Subaru.
Maybe the version of you that will be, or the one you'll never become.
I am one of the many yous that exist."
Its voice echoed. Soft, yet mocking. Gentle, yet cruel. Like the final note of a melody — sweet, but foreboding.
"I've watched you," it continued, folding its arms behind its back.
"Each scream. Each plea. Each lie you told yourself just to survive another day. I've lived them, too. Or maybe you lived mine. Does it even matter?"
Subaru clenched his fists—or tried to.
What did he feel? Anger? Fear? Or was it despair, coming home at last?
"You cling to hope like a child does to a dream," the figure whispered, eyes narrowing. "But hope is the cruelest of illusions. And you, Subaru, are its perfect victim."
Subaru's voice trembled as he responded, "If you're me... then why are you saying this?"
The figure smiled—a sad, hollow curve of lips. "Because I remember what it's like... to believe. Before belief broke me."
And the silence returned.
But now, it was full of truths too heavy to carry. And it wasn't over yet.
"You already know me well," the figure continued, its voice trailing like a whisper in the abyss.
"I've lived through what you have, billions of times. With each death, again and again... every scream, every failure, every shattered hope — I've endured it all. I've become it."
Subaru's mind began to blur, thoughts slipping like sand through trembling fingers.
The words were too much — a flood against the dam of his sanity. His head spun, though he no longer had a head. He wasn't sure he even had a body.
His consciousness, unanchored, teetered on the edge of collapse.
"Who is this? He looks like me... Is there another me? Is this some twisted joke?" he thought.
"Don't be ridiculous," Subaru said through gritted teeth. His voice cracked. "I don't know you."
"You don't... because everyone who did is dead," the figure whispered, with cruel softness.
The words were spoken like idle musings — as if they meant nothing at all.
And yet that nothingness settled in Subaru's throat like a knot, strangling any reply.
The sound of the words drowned in the dark, echoing inward instead of out.
The figure took a step forward. A glint shimmered in its mismatched eyes —
Like a star's final flicker before extinguishing: hauntingly beautiful, and utterly lethal.
"My name... is Flugel. At least, that's what they call me here in this realm between death and regret.
I deemed it fitting for myself."
"I... wouldn't have given myself that name," Subaru muttered, his brow furrowed.
"You wouldn't," Flugel agreed, smiling with something between mockery and pity. "But you know it. Instinctively. Because every part of you that makes you you... recognizes me. I am not your past. Nor your future. The possibility you missed, rejected, buried beneath your endless screaming. I am the you that kept walking when you chose to crawl."
Silence fell like snowfall in a graveyard.
As if the entire universe paused to witness what could not be undone.
"Seriously," Flugel said with a theatrical sigh, rolling his eyes. "That half-elf girl... is she really worth dying for over and over again? Every choice, every death, every scream — all for her?
You've rejected the witch who brought you this far, again and again. Even now, you don't see it."
Subaru's eyes twitched violently. "What are you talking about? The witch gave me this power? She's the reason for all this pain?"
Flugel laughed — a harsh, metallic rasp that shattered the silence. It echoed endlessly, dissolving into the void like acid through cloth.
"Oh, Natsuki Subaru... You really are a fool to your core. Without this gift, you would've died pointlessly on day one. Back in your world, you were just a broken boy playing at life. No ambition. No vision. No one to believe in you. Your parents — they tried. But even they had begun to give up.
You were a hollow shell pretending to smile. And now, just because you think this world is your second chance… You believe you've changed? No. You're still that same pathetic, cowardly, desperate Subaru — dressing his weakness up as love."
Subaru tried to breathe deeply — but there was no air. No lungs to pull it in. No chest to rise and fall.
This place wasn't made for the living.
It was built for reckoning.
A place where your darkest self waits in silence — and finally chooses to speak.
"What do you want?" he asked, voice thin and brittle — like cracked glass.
As if the very shadows were leeching away its sound.
"Ah, the classic question. Fine then — playtime's over," Flugel said with sudden sharpness.
"I came here to offer you a deal."
"What kind of deal?" Subaru asked warily.
"A chance to be free of your weakness," Flugel replied simply. Yet those words struck harder than any scream, heavier than any blade.
It wasn't just an offer. It was a mirror — held up to the most fragile, broken pieces of himself.
Suddenly, without warning, Flugel stepped forward and pressed his fingers to Subaru's forehead.
They weren't cold. They weren't warm.
They were inevitable — they were. They embodied existence without comfort. Reality without mercy.
And then— A scream tore through the void — Subaru's own.
His mind fractured like shattered glass.
Every death — soaked in pain, regret, and helpless tears — came rushing back.
Each memory slammed into him like a train:
Being gutted in an alley… Bleeding out beneath the moon… Holding someone's hand as the light faded from their eyes… Watching someone die because he made the wrong choice…
Time after time, loss after loss.
Sometimes embraced in a friend's arms.
Other times alone — nameless in the mud.
But always the same: agony, failure, powerlessness.
Pitiful… and yet undeniably true.
Proof that no matter how far he ran, how many times he reset — some scars never faded.
Flugel watched with a smile that bordered on sadistic delight.
Yet behind the cruelty in his eyes, there was something else. Expectation. Hunger. Challenge.
"Natsuki Subaru," he whispered, "I will give you the chance to turn your deaths into power.
To make the pain mean something."
One of Flugel's eyes flared — brighter than the void could contain. A glint of lightning in a starless eternity.
"Are you ready?" he asked, voice like a blade unsheathing.
"Because this isn't just a deal. It's the beginning of what you were always meant to be."
This is your chance to begin again. But it won't come without a price."
Subaru swallowed hard. The silence caught in his throat was louder than any words — a weight pressing against his chest, suffocating, yet familiar. A voice rose from deep within him. Plain. Firm. Echoing:
"Listen."
"Listen, because in this darkness, there's no other way out."
The words hung there, pulsing like a heartbeat in a void with no light, no time, no shape.
Maybe the voice wasn't his own. Maybe... it was the final whisper of a future self, worn down by countless deaths and resurrections. Or maybe... it was the witch herself, reaching into his core with the same tenderness and cruelty she'd always shown.
Flugel tilted his head, his smile unchanged. "My terms," he said, "are a fragment of your soul... and a complete Restart."
The words dropped like stones into the void. And then —
A translucent screen appeared in front of Subaru, glowing with a soft, sickly light. Its edges flickered like a mirage.
The text was in Japanese. Clean strokes, orderly fonts. Familiar, yet unsettling — like a game menu bleeding through the seams of reality, merging illusion with truth.
Subaru stared.
His eyes scanned the screen slowly, as if trying to decipher a sacred text. Searching for danger between the lines. But also... for hope. A thread he could follow out of the labyrinth.
For salvation.
Flugel smiled again. Not with joy, but with something colder — recognition. A predator recognizing its reflection in another.
Behind that smile lay the same crushing feeling Subaru had carried since childhood:
Inadequacy. Worthlessness. Nothingness that echoed in the cracks of every mirror he'd ever looked into.
"I know you liked fantasy series back in your world with systems like this," Flugel said, voice amused. "Thought you'd find it interesting. So, what do you say, Natsuki Subaru?"
Subaru hesitated. His hand trembled slightly.
"A piece of my soul... What does that even mean?"
"A small price for my help," Flugel replied, his tone casual — but his eyes sharp, dissecting.
His gaze was still locked on Subaru. But he wasn't just looking at him anymore. He was staring into him — peeling back the layers, through memory and instinct, into the very fabric of his being.
Subaru's mouth was dry. His thoughts raced, fragments of faces, moments, screams — all blurred together.
"Fine," he whispered, then louder. "Fine. I accept your terms."
His voice was firm — but there was a tremble beneath it. Not fear. Not belief.
It was necessity. The dark kind of peace that comes from knowing there is no other way. Like accepting the cold of the ocean before drowning.
Flugel seemed satisfied.
But the satisfaction on his face was like that of a merchant who knew he'd just closed a winning deal. Cold, calculated. Victorious.
"Then, by the terms of our agreement... I shall give you this."
Dark hands reached out — not from Flugel, but from the void itself. They were countless, shifting like ink in water. Each one touched Subaru with a cold that wasn't of temperature, but of essence.
It wasn't just touch. It was erosion. Like something fundamental was being undone.
As if a presence was slipping between the walls of his identity, loosening the bricks of who he thought he was.
Subaru's body froze — or tried to. But in this place, where form and shape barely mattered, all he could do was endure.
He felt something shift within his heart and soul — a grinding, aching sensation that defied logic or anatomy. But he couldn't name it.
He closed his eyes.
And then the echoes began.
It was his own voice. But not just one — thousands. Multitudes. All at once — from the past, from the future, from possible and impossible versions of himself.
They whispered: "You are no longer alone."
[DING!]
Authority Unlocked: Resonance by Death
Type: Passive Authority
Effect: When Subaru dies, he copies a specific ability from the entity that caused his death.
Limitations:
-Dying repeatedly to the same entity can increase the proficiency of the copied ability.
-However, each ability has a maximum threshold; exceeding it may trigger side effects.
-Copied abilities may be incomprehensible to Subaru's mind or incompatible with his body, leading to control issues.
-Overuse of the Authority may blur the line between Subaru's identity and the origin of the abilities.
-The copied skill fades if not used or refined over time.
Flugel looked on with pale eyes. But in them, there wasn't finality. It wasn't a farewell.
It was a "see you soon."
"Our contract is sealed, Natsuki Subaru. Let's hope you manage to die a little less this time. But don't worry..."
His smile deepened — a ripple across the dark. "We'll be meeting again soon."
Subaru's vision began to collapse — not fade, but break apart. Like glass shattering inward.
His senses followed. Sight, sound, touch — all unraveling.
And then, he died. But this was not the end.
It was an echo. A ripple. The dark sound of rebirth, calling him once more into the cycle...
Into the storm he could never truly escape.