Darkness.
Cold.
Pain.
Not the sharp pain of a wound.
This was something worse.
It felt like ice water had replaced my blood.
Like winter itself had crawled inside my veins and decided to stay.
Voices echoed somewhere far away.
Distant.
Muffled.
As though I were listening through several walls.
"He's still breathing!"
"The curse stopped spreading!"
"Get him back to the mansion!"
"His arm—"
Then the darkness swallowed everything again.
When consciousness returned, the first thing I became aware of was the ceiling.
The second thing I became aware of was pain.
The third thing I became aware of was even more pain.
A terrible noise escaped my mouth.
Apparently that was my voice now.
Good to know.
I tried moving my left arm.
Immediately regretted it.
Agony shot through my nerves.
Not burning.
Cold.
The kind of cold that hurt.
I slowly raised my arm into view.
Then wished I hadn't.
Black veins stretched across my skin.
Jagged.
Crooked.
They looked like cracks in glass.
Or lightning frozen beneath flesh.
Well.
That's probably not supposed to be there.
The door burst open.
Emilia practically sprinted into the room.
The moment she saw my eyes open, relief flooded her face.
Then her eyes started watering.
Which was somehow more terrifying than the curse.
"You're awake!"
I attempted a smile.
It probably looked more like a dying fish.
"Fortunately."
Emilia's expression immediately crumpled.
"You idiot!"
"Fair."
"You almost died!"
"Technically I only almost died a little."
"THAT'S NOT BETTER!"
Okay, that's fair too.
Rem entered a moment later.
Unlike Emilia, she wasn't crying.
She simply stood beside the bed.
Silent.
Watching.
Her gaze drifted toward my arm.
For a brief moment—
Concern appeared on her face.
Then vanished.
The fact I noticed at all was honestly terrifying.
Rem looked at me.
"You knew."
Not a question.
A statement.
I looked away.
"My visions showed me what would happen."
Another lie.
Well.
Half-lie.
Technically I did know what would happen.
The source was just significantly less divine than everyone assumed.
Emilia sat beside the bed.
"You saw the beast attacking the children?"
I nodded slowly.
Every movement hurt.
"My visions showed the attack."
The room fell silent.
"My only chance to expose it was before it escaped."
That part was actually true.
Mostly.
Emilia lowered her head.
Her hands trembled.
"So you let it bite you..."
Please stop saying it like that.
It sounded far more heroic than reality.
The truth was considerably less flattering.
I wasn't brave.
I wasn't selfless.
I wasn't noble.
I was a terrified anime fan abusing spoiler knowledge.
Fortunately—
Nobody else knew that.
"I didn't have another choice."
The lie landed perfectly.
Emilia wiped her eyes.
Rem stared at me.
Long.
Silent.
Intense.
Then she spoke.
"...You willingly endangered yourself to protect the village."
Nope.
I willingly installed magical malware into my own body because future me might need it later.
Very different.
Very important distinction.
Unfortunately, nobody asked for clarification.
The legend of the Selfless Seer had apparently been born.
Against my will. But whatever was happening was kinda good.
Several hours later, another problem arrived.
Puck.
The spirit floated around my bed like a suspicious flying cat, which he was.
"Hmmmm."
"No."
"Hmmmmmmmm."
"No."
Puck narrowed his eyes.
"What exactly is wrong with you?"
My heart nearly stopped.
Abort mission.
Abort mission.
ABORT MISSION.
"I don't know what you mean."
"The curse is dead."
"Correct."
"But it isn't gone."
"...Correct."
"And your mana feels weird."
Please stop noticing things I can't.
Puck floated closer.
I immediately entered emergency bluff mode.
"The prophetic condition."
Puck blinked.
"...The what?"
"The prophetic condition."
I said it confidently.
Confidence was important.
Especially when inventing complete nonsense.
"My soul has become incompatible with conventional magical observation."
Silence.
Puck stared.
I stared back.
Neither of us blinked.
Finally—
"...That sounds fake."
"It does."
"Very fake."
"Extremely fake."
Puck crossed his arms.
"And yet?"
"And yet I'm sticking with it."
The spirit groaned.
Success.
Probably.
****Day 4****
The next morning I discovered the curse had left me a gift.
Several gifts, actually.
All of them, terrible.
Walking hurt.
Mana hurt.
Existing hurt.
My left arm constantly felt submerged in freezing water.
Sometimes my nerves would randomly misfire.
A spike of icy pain would shoot from my fingertips straight into my chest.
Every time it happened, I nearly dropped whatever I was holding.
The curse wasn't killing me.
It was simply making sure I never forgot it existed.
Debuff acquired.
Wonderful.
Even worse—
My mana circulation had become sluggish.
Heavy.
Before, using magic felt like pushing water through a pipe.
Now it felt like forcing mud through a straw.
Every spell required more effort.
More focus.
More pain.
Congratulations.
You exploited the magic system.
Your reward is nerve damage.
A few days ago that realization would have devastated me.
Now?
Honestly?
I was just happy to be alive.
That feeling lasted until I entered Roswaal's training room.
Roswaal stood waiting.
Smiling.
The exact same smile as always.
And yet—
Not the same smile.
Before, he had looked amused.
Now he looked interested.
Like a scientist examining a laboratory rat that had somehow broken physics.
His gaze drifted toward my arm.
Then back toward me.
"Ohohohoho..."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"How fascinating."
Every alarm bell in my body immediately activated.
Danger.
Danger.
Danger.
Roswaal looked at the black veins.
Then smiled wider.
"Would you like me to heal it?"
Absolutely not.
No.
Never.
Not happening.
If my theory was correct, the dormant curse was still inside me.
The last thing I wanted was someone powerful enough to accidentally—or intentionally—interfere with it.
I forced a smile.
"Thank you."
Pause.
"But no."
Roswaal tilted his head.
"I insist."
"I don't."
The room became very quiet.
For one brief moment—
Neither of us smiled.
Neither of us blinked.
Something cold settled between us.
Then Roswaal laughed.
"Ohohohohoho!"
The moment vanished.
But the message remained.
He knew something was wrong.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to be dangerous.
Enough to start asking questions.
Enough to become a problem.
I stared at the ceiling for a while.
Then sighed.
"...Damn it."
Because I already knew what happened next.
The puppy wasn't the real attack.
It never was.
The puppy was just the scout.
The appetizer.
The horrifying little preview trailer.
The real problem was the Wolgarm pack.
And unlike the puppy—
The pack came with enough teeth to turn an entire village into a crime scene.
I slowly sat up.
Immediately regretted it.
Pain shot through my arm.
Then through my shoulder.
Then through several locations I wasn't aware could hurt.
"Ow."
My body had become a collaborative project between suffering and poor decision-making.
Unfortunately—
The Wolgarms did not care.
They were still out there.
Still hiding in the forest.
Still waiting.
And if I remembered correctly—
The barrier crystal protecting the village had already been destroyed.
Which meant the attack could begin at any time.
I stared at the ceiling for several more seconds.
Hoping a better solution would appear.
None did.
Naturally.
Because this was Re:Zero.
A setting where every problem somehow became my problem.
I sighed.
Then reached for my cane.
The cane itself felt insulting.
Not because it existed.
Because I needed it.
A week ago I had been a relatively healthy teenager.
Now I looked like a retired wizard who lost a fight against gravity.
I pushed myself upright.
My left leg protested.
My arm protested.
My spine protested.
Even my mana protested.
Everything was protesting.
I ignored all of it.
Because there was work to do.
The journey to the dining hall took significantly longer than my pride could tolerate.
By the time I arrived, everyone was already there.
Emilia.
Rem.
Ram.
Roswaal.
Breakfast had just started.
Perfect.
Time to ruin everyone's morning.
"I need a war council."
Silence.
Several heads turned toward me.
Ram blinked.
"...At breakfast?"
"Especially at breakfast."
Emilia immediately looked concerned.
"Did something happen?"
"Not yet."
Roswaal's smile didn't move.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I tightened my grip on the cane.
"My visions."
That got everyone's attention.
Of course it did.
I had accidentally created a reputation.
A terrible reputation.
A useful reputation.
The worst kind.
"I saw the forest."
I paused.
"The barrier protecting the region has been broken."
Rem's expression sharpened.
Ram stopped eating.
Emilia leaned forward.
Roswaal remained perfectly still.
"The creature from the village wasn't alone."
The room grew quiet.
"There is a pack."
I swallowed.
"A large one."
"A Wolgarm pack."
The moment the name left my mouth—
Roswaal's eyes narrowed.
Just slightly.
Almost imperceptibly.
But I saw it.
And that scared me more than the Wolgarms.
Because he knew.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to understand that I had once again predicted something I shouldn't know.
Emilia looked worried.
"How certain are you?"
"Certain enough to bet my life on it."
Again.
Apparently.
Rem folded her arms.
"Then we should investigate immediately."
"Exactly."
I pointed at her.
"See? Rem gets it."
Ram sighed.
"How unfortunate."
"Why?"
"The idiot is making sense."
"I hate this family."
Roswaal suddenly stood.
The room immediately focused on him.
"Ohohohoho..."
His hand slipped into the folds of his flamboyant robe.
Not dramatically.
Not theatrically.
Casually.
Like a man reaching for a shopping list.
For a brief moment, his fingers disappeared into a hidden leather-lined pocket I would never have noticed if I hadn't been watching him so closely.
Then he pulled out the Gospel.
My stomach dropped.
He didn't announce it.
Didn't show it to Emilia.
Didn't even angle it toward the table.
The book remained tilted toward himself, hidden behind the curtain of his sleeves.
Only his eyes could see the shifting black text.
Everyone else saw their eccentric lord pausing to think.
I saw something else.
I watched his fingers tap lightly against the leather cover.
Once.
Twice.
Waiting.
Reading.
Checking.
Looking for instructions.
Looking for the script.
The room remained silent.
Roswaal's eyes moved across the pages.
Then—
Something flickered.
Confusion.
A tiny crack.
Then irritation.
Cold.
Sharp.
Gone almost instantly.
But I saw it.
The Gospel wasn't matching reality.
It expected a tragedy.
It expected suffering.
It expected a dead maid, a doomed village, or a broken fool pushed to the edge.
Instead—
I was still alive.
The children were safe.
The story had gone off-script.
He's checking the script.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
And I am the typo.
Roswaal's fingers tightened slightly around the cover.
Then he snapped the book shut.
Fast.
Efficient.
Before Emilia could even glance his way.
The Gospel vanished back into his robes.
The hidden pocket swallowed it whole.
And when he looked up—
The clown was back.
The smile.
The warmth.
The polite amusement.
Perfectly intact.
"Very well."
Wait.
What?
That was easier than expected.
"We shall launch a preemptive strike."
I blinked.
Emilia blinked.
Even Rem looked surprised.
Roswaal continued.
"If a threat exists, it would be irresponsible to ignore it."
That's suspicious.
Extremely suspicious.
Dangerously suspicious.
Then he turned toward me.
And everything made sense.
"As our Prophet discovered the threat..."
Nah.
"...he shall naturally guide the expedition."
HELL NAH.
"...from the vanguard."
The room froze.
My soul left my body.
Rem immediately frowned.
"He is injured."
Correct.
Very injured.
Extremely injured.
Potentially one strong breeze away from collapsing.
Roswaal nodded.
"Indeed."
Then smiled wider.
"Which makes his courage even more admirable."
You clown.
You absolute clown.
You magical war-crime jester.
He was doing it on purpose.
Of course he was.
The Gospel wanted tragedy.
The Gospel wanted suffering.
And Roswaal had apparently decided—
If fate refused to kill me naturally—
He would help.
Subtly.
Politely.
With paperwork.
The worst kind of assassination.
Political assassination.
Emilia immediately objected.
"He shouldn't be fighting!"
"Agreed," I said.
Everyone looked at me.
I pointed at myself.
"I am very fragile."
Roswaal nodded sympathetically.
"Then surely your prophetic guidance is invaluable."
I hated how reasonable that sounded.
Because I couldn't refuse.
Not without destroying everything.
The Prophet persona.
The trust I'd built.
The warning itself.
If I suddenly said—
"No thanks, send someone else into the deadly forest."
The entire story fell apart.
And Roswaal knew it.
The bastard knew it.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Both smiling.
Neither smiling.
A conversation entirely composed of eye contact.
Finally—
I sighed.
"...Fine."
My stomach immediately regretted the decision.
"I'll go."
Emilia looked horrified.
Rem looked worried.
Ram looked mildly annoyed.
Roswaal looked delighted.
Which confirmed this was absolutely the wrong decision.
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
Plans were made.
Scouts were prepared.
Weapons were gathered.
And I spent the remainder of the day preparing for what was almost certainly the worst idea I'd had all week.
Which was saying something.
I acquired several throwing knives.
Not because I knew how to use them.
Because distance was a wonderful invention.
I practiced Shamak until my Gate felt like it was being sandpapered from the inside.
I checked my equipment.
Then checked it again.
Then checked it a third time.
Because paranoia was free.
Eventually evening arrived.
I sat alone in my room.
Cane resting beside my bed.
Throwing knives laid neatly across the table.
My arm burned.
My mana hurt.
My entire body felt like a strongly worded complaint.
And tomorrow—
I would be marching into a forest full of man-eating monsters.
Fantastic.
Just fantastic.
I stared out the window.
Toward the dark tree line beyond the village.
Somewhere out there—
The Wolgarm pack was waiting.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
I had the horrible realization that Roswaal might be a bigger threat than the monsters.