Looking far down at the blood-stained sands of the gladiatorial arena, Gustav Morello was a man faced with a glaring anomaly.
It certainly was not the first time he had seen a Gladiator Beast slaughtered with such ease.
When the anomaly known as Cecilus Segmunt had first appeared on this island, he had undergone the Sparka as Imperial Law dictated with a smile.
The blue-haired child had reduced the Witchbeast to ribbons before the spectators could even draw a breath.
The black-haired boy... Natsuki as he opted to call himself for now—―had not been quite as instantaneous. But the sheer, unnatural force behind his strike, the effortless way he had manipulated the beast's movements, and the absolute lack of hesitation in his eyes... it was an impossibility for a child.
Unless, of course, the rumors were true.
Gustav narrowed his four eyes, watching the boy gently take the blonde girl's hand and walk back into the shadows of the subterranean tunnels.
The Emperor's bastard son.
Rumors were a plague in the Vollachian Empire, but recently, a specific, treasonous whisper had swept across the mainland and breached even the isolated shores of Ginunhive.
A black-haired child, possessing strength that defied logic, claiming the blood of His Excellency, Vincent Vollachia, and raising the banner of rebellion. It was said this child had even orchestrated the fall of the Fortified City of Guaral.
Gustav was not a fool who blindly believed simple gossip.
Yet, as the Governor of this island, he dealt in facts.
Fact: The boy possessed power entirely disproportionate to his vessel.
Fact: The boy had arrived under completely impossible circumstances.
Fact: The boy carried himself not as a victim, but as a conqueror.
To dismiss this as a poorly-timed coincidence would be a dereliction of his duty to the Emperor.
If this boy truly was the architect of the rebellion, what was his objective here? To incite a riot among the gladiators? To usurp control of the island and turn Ginunhive into a fortress against the capital?
Gustav tapped the index finger of his lower-right hand against his chin, his mind rapidly sorting through contingencies and potential countermeasures.
"Haha! That was truly spectacular, wasn't it, Gustav-san?! Basu is completely incredible! He absolutely shattered my expectations!"
The meticulous web of Gustav's tactical thoughts was violently severed.
Gustav did not flinch, though he let out a long, heavy exhale from his nose.
He rubbed his broad forehead with his upper-right hand.
"Segmunt. Was your sudden appearance necessary?"
"Oya? Did I interrupt a dramatic monologue?"
Cecilus strolled to the edge of the balcony, his hands lazily clasped behind his head.
His vibrant blue eyes sparkled as he looked down at the empty arena.
"I just couldn't contain myself! I knew my gut feeling was right. I've definitely inherited my father's eye for tracking potential! Did you see the way he brought the sword down? Such flair! I couldn't help but get goosebumps myself!"
"A gut feeling, was it...?" Gustav muttered, his tone flat.
"Yup! Exactly that!"
Cecilus rocked back on his wooden sandals, humming a cheerful tune before suddenly tilting his head, peering up at Gustav's stern face.
"Hmm... you have a very gloomy expression, Gustav-san. You look like a villain trying to piece together the hero's backstory. What exactly are you finding so suspicious about dear Basu?"
The boy's tone was as light and breezy as ever, yet the sheer, unadulterated sharpness hidden beneath the question made the hairs on the back of Gustav's neck stand on end.
"That is no concern of yours," Gustav replied firmly. "It is a matter of Imperial security."
"Boring! Completely, utterly boring!"
Cecilus puffed out his cheeks in a childish pout. He suddenly hopped up onto the narrow stone railing of the balcony.
Balancing perfectly on one foot over a lethal drop, he spun a full one-eighty degrees to face the giant Governor.
"If you won't tell me, then how about a bet?"
Gustav frowned, his thick brows drawing together.
"...Why would I entertain a child's wager?"
"Because you're operating on logic, Gustav-san! You're looking at Basu and seeing a plot, a scheme, a political maneuver. You think he's here to scheme and conquer because that's what the script of this nation dictates. Rebellions, survival of the fittest——it's all so incredibly overdone! You're trying to fit him into a neat little box made of Vollachian rules."
Cecilus declared, leaning precariously forward, his starry eyes wide and unblinking.
"Overdone?" Gustav repeats, almost in disbelief, "It could be far more important than you can even imagine, Segmunt. It would not just be the Gladiator Island at stake, but with how things have recently been moving with the revolution... primarily the fall of the Fortress City, perhaps the most difficult city to penetrate in the entire Empire, barring the Capital――Vollachia in it's entirely could be in jeopardy."
Cecilus gives a slight laugh in response, "'Could could could', hearing a loooooot of ifs right now, Gustav-san! So, I say you're wrong. A true Star doesn't follow the script written by the supporting cast! Whatever boring, predictable outcome you're suspecting... Basu is going to flip it completely upside down!"
Gustav stared at the boy. Changing the mind of someone so relentlessly detached from reality was an impossible task.
"I have no interest in betting on what is most certainly a traitor's whims. This is a matter of His Excellency's law, Segmunt. Not a game. I will not be so ignorant and take things so unserious as to appease your warped mindset of reality."
"Well, you can say that all you please, but I'm completely serious here, Gustav-san."
Cecilus's smile did not falter, but it shifted into something somewhat more chiller.
"How about this? The stakes have to be high to make things real unpredictable and interesting, right? So... how about I wager my life?"
He drew his thumb across his neck for good measure.
"―――"
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Gustav froze, his four arms going entirely still.
He stared at the blue-haired boy. Cecilus was smiling perfectly naturally. There was no killing intent, no malice, and no trace of a bluff.
He was offering up his own life with the casual air of a child betting a shiny rock he had found in the dirt.
"... Your life."
Gustav repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble.
"The life of the Empire's strongest blade, on a mere whim? Can you even begin to understand the implications――"
"Yup! You might not realize it, but I'm not an idiot. Rather... like I said, I'm reaaaally confident in my gut!" Cecilus laughed, patting his stomach. "If Basu turns out to be exactly what you suspect—if he follows your boring little script to the letter—then you can go ahead and take my head! A real grand prize, right? But if he proves you wrong... if he shatters your expectations and gives us a story that defies all logic..."
Cecilus threw his arms wide, embracing the sky above the gladiatorial arena.
"Well, then I get to enjoy the greatest show of all, right from the front row! How about it, Gustav-san? Do we have a deal?"
Gustav looked at the boy, then down at the blood-stained sands below.
In a sane world, such a bet would be the ravings of a lunatic. But in the Vollachian Empire, where strength dictated truth, the absolute certainty of the strongest swordsman carried a terrifying weight.
"Hahahaha! I suppose you aren't feeling the same way? Like something big has just arrived?!"
For the first time since the black-haired boy had arrived on Ginunhive, Gustav Morello felt a genuine, creeping sense of uncertainty.
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Idra Missanga. That was his name.
But right now, sitting in the blood-soaked dirt with his lungs burning, the title of pathetic fraud felt far more appropriate.
He had always prided himself on his level-headedness. He had genuinely believed that no matter how hellish the rumors of Ginunhive were, he could keep his wits about him. He could play the part, survive the Sparka, and find a way out.
He was, of course, completely and utterly wrong.
The moment he had laid eyes on that monster——a creature that looked at their entire lives, their hardships, their loves, and their regrets as nothing more than a few mouthfuls of meat, his composure had shattered like cheap glass.
It was inevitable. He wasn't a warrior, as he had said. He was a miller, plain and simple. A series of terrible, unfortunate events had dragged him to this island of death, and he had wrapped himself in a desperate, pathetic lie just to feel a shred of security.
But if he was being entirely honest with himself, his terror hadn't started when the lion emerged from the gates.
It had started in the holding cells. It had started with the children.
The blonde girl was unsettling enough, smiling vacantly at the threshold of a slaughterhouse as if she were at a festival.
But the black-haired boy...
Idra couldn't understand him. The child was calm, but it wasn't the blissful ignorance of an infant who didn't know what death was. The boy understood exactly what was happening. He took in the arena, the beast, and the blood with a terrifyingly casual acceptance.
But that wasn't what had made Idra's stomach churn.
It was the feeling.
Just standing near the boy made Idra's primal instincts scream in warning.
There was a foul, suffocating pressure radiating from that small body, like thick, invisible mud clinging to the back of Idra's throat.
It didn't have a smell he could name, but it carried the distinct sensation of something disturbing... no, something fundamentally wrong. It felt as though a cold, clammy hand was gently wrapping around his lungs, slowly stealing the air from his chest every time the boy breathed.
And then, there were his eyes.
When the boy had looked at him, those dark, bottomless irises didn't belong to a child. They were heavy. Too heavy. They were the eyes of someone who had certainly seen far more than they let off and has grown entirely numb to the sight of spilling blood.
The sheer density of the knowledge, the pain, and the quiet madness swirling in those small, dark orbs was incomprehensible.
Idra couldn't muster a single ounce of pity for whatever cruel circumstances had brought a child to Ginunhive.
He was too busy being paralyzed by the soul-deep, nauseating terror of simply existing in the boy's shadow.
...
...
And that terror was what broke him, what caused him to make that incredibly foolish decision.
When the beast charged, the logic of a grown man vanished, replaced by the cornered, ugly panic of a rat. Driven entirely by fear, Idra had grabbed that unnatural, terrifying child and tried to shove him directly into the monster's jaws.
All to buy himself one more second of life...
I never wanted to bring shame to our name. But I have. I am so sorry, Father.
He had let his cowardice consume him completely. And the universe's punishment for his sin was the absolute, crushing humiliation of what followed.
The child hadn't been eaten. Instead, with a casual, terrifying display of superhuman strength, the boy had yanked Idra out of the jaws of death, saving the life of the very man who had just tried to murder him.
Idra could only watch from the ground as the boy moved. The way he stepped into the beast's guard. The way he drove the blade directly through the monster's thick skull without a single flinch or hesitation.
As the boy stood before the massive corpse, bathed in the harsh sunlight of the arena, his small stature seemed to warp. The presence he commanded towered over the dead beast, casting a shadow that swallowed Idra, no, swallowed the entirely of Ginuhive entirely.
He was everything Idra had pretended to be. Unflinching. Strong. A true survivor.
Staring at his own trembling, scraped hands, Idra Missanga let out a ragged, miserable breath.
He truly was a fraud, wasn't he?
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Subaru sat slumped on a rigid wooden crate in the corner of the holding cell.
Louis was tucked securely against his side, one of his small arms draped protectively over her shoulders.
She was currently gnawing on a piece of dried fruit with complete, childlike contentment.
Whenever the vibrations overhead grew particularly violent, she simply leaned her weight a little heavier against him.
Subaru closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cold stone.
If I just close my eyes... maybe I can trick my brain into thinking I'm back in the mansion's garden...
But peace was a luxury Ginunhive didn't afford.
The thought hadn't even finished forming when the air in front of him simply displaced. There was no sound of a footfall, no rustle of fabric——only the sudden realization that he was no longer alone.
A blue blur dropped from the ceiling beams, hanging perfectly upside down in Subaru's field of vision.
"Oya oya! There you are! I was wondering where my favorite new co-stars had vanished to!"
He jolted, a look of genuine shock crossing his face. It wasn't just the jump-scare, rather, it was the fact that even with his honed instincts, he hadn't felt Cecilus's presence until the boy was already in his personal space.
"Could you not do that?! Do you always have to make your entrances hanging from the ceiling like some kind of bat?!"
"A battu? I can't really say I've heard of such a creature, but if we are comparing unusual motifs, I'd much prefer a bolt of lightning! Though I must admit, hanging upside down offers a wonderfully fresh perspective of the world. All the dried blood on the floor looks like a sunset if you squint."
Louis blinked her blue eyes at the inverted boy. Without a hint of fear, she reached out and enthusiastically waved her half-eaten piece of dried fruit in his face.
"Uau!"
Cecilus's eyes widened in genuine delight.
"Oh! She greets me as well! How incredibly polite." Cecilus chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Thank you, little miss, but I'm currently on a strict diet of 'anticipation' and 'applause.' Keep your treats for the intermission! And what might your name be?"
"Uau!"
Cecilus placed a hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully while still hanging perfectly suspended.
"Hmm. 'Uau,' is it? It's certainly an unusual name, but I suppose all names are unusual if you repeat them enough times. Very well! It is a pleasure to meet you, Uau-san!"
Subaru sighed, giving the blue-haired anomaly a deadpan stare.
"...Her name is Louis, you idiot," Subaru sighed, his voice flat. "You really never talk like a normal person, do you?"
"Hm, seems I did something wrong again. But regarding what you said, normal, is it?"
With a graceful, physics-defying twist of his waist, Cecilus dropped to the dirt floor, landing without a sound.
"Such an annoying word, really. What truly classifies someone as 'normal,' after all? Is a background character normal? If so, I must firmly reject the label. I am the Star of this world, Basu. Naturally, my dialogue must carry the dramatic weight necessary to captivate the audience."
Subaru looked at him, and for a moment, the irritation died in his throat.
It wasn't just the blue hair or the manic energy. It was the pressure.
Subaru was aware of what the way many of the gladiators thought of him now. He knew what they felt. The Fear of Subaru... it wasn't the fear of a monster with claws, but the fear of a wrongness, of something unknown.
There was a suffocating, invisible miasma that clung to him, a weight born from a thousand deaths and the lingering scent of the Witch.
But Cecilus? Cecilus didn't just ignore that pressure. He seemed to dance within it.
Louis pointed a finger at Subaru's face, looking confused.
"Uu?"
"See? Even Louis here thinks you're exhausting." Subaru rubbed his temples.
"That's because she possesses a keen eye for character dynamics, Basu." Cecilus declared.
Louis looked deeply pleased with herself and resumed chewing on her fruit.
Whereas Subaru could only let out a long, ragged exhale.
"Right, whatever. Why are you actually down here? And don't tell me you just wanted to admire the charm of prison architecture."
"Haha! Of course not, Basu. Though the dampness does add an amusing touch of gritty realism to the setting. No, I came because your performance earlier was simply delightful! The way you stood completely unfazed before that Witchbeast, the way you summoned your weapon, the way you declared your name to the heavens... ahhh, it was almost enough to make my heart skip a beat!"
Subaru narrowed his eyes.
"Well, glad to hear you were having fun watching from the seats, huh?"
"Precisely!" Cecilus grinned, completely immune to Subaru's sarcasm. "I was the audience, the critic, and the witness! And I wholeheartedly approve! You have a wonderful, absurd flair about you, Basu!"
Subaru just stared at him for a moment.
The complete detachment from the life-or-death reality everyone else was suffering through.
The bright hair, the striking eyes, and the infuriatingly cheerful personality layered over world-breaking strength.
Louis, having finished her first piece of fruit, looked between the exhausted Subaru and the practically vibrating Cecilus.
Finding the blue-haired boy entertaining, she reached into her small pocket, pulled out another piece of dried fruit, and held it out toward him.
"Ua?"
Cecilus blinked, looking down at the offering.
"Oh? For me, again? I can't really recall a time I've been offered fruit twice by the same person after already refusing, but——"
Subaru immediately reached out, slapping a hand over Louis's and pulling it back toward his chest.
"No. Absolutely not."
Subaru said, his voice completely deadpan.
"Do not feed the strange blue-haired man in the dungeon, Louis. If you feed him, he'll just keep coming back."
Cecilus's eyes widened, before he let out a laugh, the bright, cheerful sound echoing loudly against the grim, bloodstained stones of Ginunhive.
Subaru let out a long, heavy sigh, lowering his head slightly and dragging a hand down his face. The sheer absurdity of the situation was finally catching up to him. The unreasonableness of Cecilus was a mirror he didn't want to look into.
Cecilus noticed the shift in Subaru's demeanor immediately. He tilted his head, his starry eyes blinking in genuine curiosity.
"Is everything alright, Basu?"
"... In a way, you really are like him."
Cecilus blinked again, his eyebrows slanting in interest.
The playful energy dimmed just a fraction, replaced by the sharp focus of someone who lived for a good story.
"Hmm? I'm not quite sure who you're referencing, but you sound rather disappointed by that? Is he a bad guy? A tragic villain? A fallen mentor?!"
Subaru's hand fell to his lap. He leaned back against the rough stone wall of the cell, ignoring Louis's look of concern as she tugged at his sleeve.
He met Cecilus eye-to-eye, seeing past the child's body to the terrifying, boundless potential within.
He remembered the words Abel had spoken to him after the disaster in Guaral.
The moment Satoru Gojo had utterly dismantled them, rejected Subaru's pleas, and vanished into the sky.
Subaru took a breath, the air tasting far more stale and dusty than it was before.
"...Let me tell you about him, Ceci," Subaru said, his voice quiet but steady. "Let me tell you about my teacher, my hero, my best friend and the most unreasonable guy I've ever known."
Naturally, Subaru's decision to inform Cecilus about Satoru was not without reason.
It was only because he was aware that even in Gojo's current condition of infantization, he would be far too strong to defeat in a battle. And considering his friend's recent behaviour, it is most likely what will happen when they subsequently cross paths.
That is where Cecilus, hopefully, comes in. That's enough said, isn't it?
Cecilus is faster than Subaru can perceive, even if he disregards all the rumours about the First Divine General and his talents.
While it's certainly true that Subaru doesn't know how distorted his perception is because of his recent transformation, but there are just a handful of people who can move more quickly than Subaru can perceive.
Cecilus's eyes grew wide, almost glistening in the low light.
In front of Subaru, he took a cross-legged seat on the floor and rested his chin in his hands like a kid waiting for storytime.
"Ooooh! A mentor figure! I love those! They always have the best dramatic sacrifices! Tell me, tell me!"
"He's not dead..." Subaru corrected sharply, "He's... lost. Or maybe he just doesn't want to be found. Yeah, that's probably it... especially with how he's been since everything happened."
Cecilus tilted his head, listening intently.
"He's the strongest, or, well, he was, back from where he came from," Subaru continued, looking at his hands. "Just like you're the strongest here. But his strength... it isolated him. It put him on a pedestal so high that nobody could reach him. Nobody could understand what it was like to see the world the way he did."
Subaru paused, the memory of Gojo's arrogant, blindfolded smile flashing in his mind.
"He acted like he didn't care. He acted like everything was a joke, a game he was just passing time playing. He was arrogant, annoying, and never listened to anyone."
Subaru looked up, meeting Cecilus's gaze.
"But he cared. More than anyone else. He took me in when I was useless, even if he was a bit ruder back then. He taught me how to fight, how to survive."
"Wow," Cecilus breathed, his eyes wide. "He sounds very interesting. The solitary hero bearing the weight of the heavens! What happened to him?"
"... He forgot," Subaru whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Something happened, and he lost all his memories that he had of me——of... us. He lost the part of himself that cared. Everything that's happened to him since that moment has been nothing but negative. Now... I don't even know. He's just power, without the heart that directed it before."
Subaru clenched his fists, the sensation of the Invisible Providence striking Gojo's cheek still lingering in his knuckles.
"And when I tried to remind him... he pushed me away. He told me to forget him. Because the 'him' I knew was dead... how am I even supposed to fix that?"
Silence fell over the small stone cell. For once, Cecilus didn't immediately launch into a dramatic monologue.
"Free... yet bound by something he cannot even see. How fascinating."
The Blue Lightning stared at Subaru, his starry eyes uncharacteristically serious.
"That's a rather sad story, Basu."
"Yeah. It is."
Cecilus stood up, brushing the dust from his mismatched kimono.
"But you know..."
His expression returned back to his usual look.
"A story doesn't end just because the mentor loses his way! That's when the student has to step up! You have to surpass him, Basu! You have to punch him so hard his memories come flying back!"
Subaru let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"... Surpass him, yeah, right... I'm not sure that's really possible. Besides, I already tried punching him. It only worked once and it'll most definitely never work again now that he knows what I can do."
Subaru is not one to be unduly arrogant, even though he is rather pleased with how much stronger he has become. Especially since the last time he decided to be had gotten him mired in the darkest pit of his life.
Gojo-sensei was able to avoid the Invisible Providence as soon as he woke up, and Subaru really has no way to overcome that ridiculous defense beyond that ability.
Naturally, he has witnessed Infinity, as Gojo-sensei referred to it, being bypassed on numerous occasions by a wide range of individuals, so it is at least not totally impervious.
The trouble is that all of those people are either real legends brought back from the dead, villains he'd rather die than need help from, or simply unable to cross across to Vollachia.
Cecilus Segmunt, then. He can only hope that the person deemed the strongest in Vollachia will be able to disregard Gojo-sensei's defense when it comes down to a fight.
"I see, I see... it's simple, really. You didn't punch him hard enough!" Cecilus declared, striking a heroic pose. "If words don't reach a warrior's heart, then fists and swords must! That is the ironclad rule of the battlefield!"
Cecilus pointed a finger at Subaru.
"I've decided, Basu! Your story is too interesting to end here in the dirt! I, Cecilus Segmunt, the Blue Lightning of Vollachia, will help you reach your climax!"
Subaru's brows furrowed. "... What, why?"
"Haha! Because, Basu, I like you a ton already. I'm not sure if you feel the same about me at all... but that doesn't change the fact that——"
Cecilus took a step back, offering an overly dramatic bow.
"——If your 'lost mentor' truly stands at the peak.... then only someone else at such heights can drag him back down to the stage, right?"
An amused, hungry glint flickered in his eyes.
"So..... with that, let's make it a show worth dying for. Shall we?"
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――There was a saying that went, You can't fight a war on an empty stomach.
While Subaru isn't particularly worried about dying, or even being injured by any Witchbeasts he'll have to face at this point onward, that isn't what he really cares about.
The assurance of his own survival didn't exactly equate to peace of mind.
Instead, a completely different kind of exhaustion was gnawing at him.
It was the eyes.
Every time he walked into the mess hall, the suffocating, terrified gazes of the other gladiators would instantly lock onto him. They looked at him not as a fellow prisoner, but as a walking calamity. They had seen what he did in the arena.
These guys really think I'd kill them in a heartbeat, huh. I get what type of place this is, and the fact that it's Vollachia definitely isn't helping, but... argh.
Of course, dispelling that monstrous image was practically impossible when the island's most notorious anomaly was almost always trailing after him like an overly dramatic, blue-haired puppy.
After all, if there was anyone in Ginunhive that the gladiators found more unsettling than Subaru himself, it was Cecilus Segmunt.
Wanting to understand exactly what kind of minefield he was navigating, Subaru had approached a veteran gladiator seated at a nearby table.
For a long moment, he received no answer. The well-built man simply glared up from his meager rations, his jaw tight with blatant apprehension, before finally letting out a gruff scoff.
"The better question is... what hasn't he done?" the man muttered, keeping his voice low. "He's only been here for what... twenty days? And he's already stirred up an insane amount of shit. Not even mentioning his Sparka."
Subaru tilted his head. He shifted his gaze around the hall, noting how the surrounding gladiators actively avoided making eye contact with him.
"What happened with Ceci's Sparka?"
"Tch. At his first Sparka, that brat did absolutely nothing," the gladiator spat, a deep, venomous anger flashing in his eyes. "He stood there and watched as his entire Unit was annihilated. And once his allies were completely gone, he just stepped up and killed the Gladiator Beast with his bare hands. Effortlessly."
If the gladiator was expecting a reaction of shock regarding the boy's strength, he didn't receive one. Subaru was already well aware that Cecilus was a monster capable of slaughtering Witchbeasts faster than the eye could track.
However, a cold, heavy knot immediately formed in Subaru's stomach.
"...He let his allies die?"
The gladiator paused, blinking in surprise. Hearing the genuine concern in Subaru's voice, the man's rigid posture relaxed just a fraction.
"Huh. Guess you're not as cold-blooded as what I've heard, if you actually care about something like that..." The man scratched at his stubble, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. "I really shouldn't be talkin' to you like this, given the rumors, but... yeah. After that, every time he was assigned a deathmatch, he had the nerve to just sit back and cheer his opponents on until everyone else was dead. And for some insane reason, he keeps calling himself 'General First-Class Cecilus Segmunt'."
As he spoke, the veteran glared toward the entrance of the hall——the very same archway that Cecilus had skipped through just a few minutes prior.
And it wasn't just this man. Save for the rest of Subaru's immediate Unit, who didn't really have any knowledge of Cecilus here, every single gladiator in the hall possessed that exact same look. It was a mixture of profound suspicion, deep-seated hatred, and raw fear.
Cecilus was relentlessly friendly. He treated every interaction like a scene in a grand play. But to these men, who lived side-by-side with death every single day, his absolute disregard for human life made him an abomination.
And he actually wonders why he doesn't make any friends here, huh.
Subaru thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He was dealing with a child who possessed the power of a god and the empathy of a stone.
Subaru let out a long, tired breath, trying to process the headache building behind his eyes. But as his mind sorted through the gladiator's words, a specific phrase snagged his attention.
Subaru lowered his hand, his dark, heavy gaze locking back onto the older man.
"... Rumors?" Subaru asked, his voice dropping slightly, losing any trace of its previous casualness. "You said 'given the rumors.' What rumors?"
The man's eyes skittered away, his throat working as he swallowed a lump of pure, unadulterated dread. He stood up abruptly, the bench screeching against the stone floor like a dying animal.
"That ain't for me to say... you should be lucky I'm even talkin' to ya, given the circumstances. My life's already cheap enough without adding 'associating with you' to the bill."
He didn't wait for a reply. The man practically fled, his heavy footsteps echoing a frantic rhythm that said more than his words ever could.
Subaru stared at the spot where the man had been, his hand frozen mid-air as he reached for a cup of lukewarm water. He let out a long, jagged sigh, his shoulders slumping under a weight that had nothing to do with his physical size.
He was being avoided, that was very clear. Not just as a newcomer, and not just as a child in a place of death.
They looked at him and saw a monster wearing a human mask. A child who didn't flinch, who didn't break, and who stood beside the Blue Lightning as if they were equals in madness.
Rumors? What kind of rumors could turn an entire island against a kid so quickly?
Subaru's eyes narrowed as he stared into the dark, murky water in his cup.
I guess it has to do with that damn revolution. That's the only card on the table. Did Abel pull some strings behind the scenes? Did that masked bastard leak some story about me being a 'Demon Child' or a 'Hidden Weapon' just to make me a more effective tool?
The image of Vincent Vollachia's cold gaze flashed in his mind. It was exactly the kind of ruthless, efficient move that Emperor would make.
If that's the case, I'm going to have some very heavy words for him when I see that mask again.