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{3rd Pov}
Subaru did not waste time returning to the mansion to meet Emilia or Ram, nor did he attempt to explain his plan personally.
He had already sent Rem ahead to handle that part.
She was capable of conveying the urgency of the situation.
And even if they disagreed—
It would not change what he intended to do.
If necessary, he would eliminate the Witch Cultists himself and neutralize the threat before it could escalate further.
When the Great Sage transferred his memories to Subaru, it had not been limited to knowledge alone.
Along with those memories came the spells the Sage had mastered.
Rare Yin spells.
Self-developed Yang spells once created by Gloria.
Complex magical formulas that Subaru previously would not have been able to comprehend, let alone cast.
More importantly, he now possessed detailed knowledge about the Sin Archbishops—their abilities, their Authorities, and most crucially, their weaknesses.
That knowledge alone was invaluable.
It allowed him to construct a solid and practical strategy instead of charging in blindly.
He understood how the Witch Cult operated.
He understood their fanaticism, their hierarchy, and their tendencies in battle.
Combined with his Witch's scent and his newly contracted Quasi–Yang Spirit, he had more advantages than anyone else realized.
Without hesitation, Subaru entered the forest.
The trees closed in around him as he advanced deeper, the early morning light barely filtering through the thick canopy above.
The air was damp and cool, carrying the scent of earth and leaves.
Hidden inside his pocket was a Barrier Magic Stone he had discreetly taken from the village boundary earlier.
Those stones had originally been placed to repel Mabeasts and reduce random incursions.
He had no intention of becoming some wandering Mabeast's accidental breakfast while on his way to confront a far greater threat.
Because if, after living half a century and dying once of natural old age, this was how he ended up dying for the second time—after receiving so much help from his alternate self—then he might as well die a third time purely from embarrassment.
Making a rookie mistake at this stage would be unacceptable.
Especially after everything he had been given.
Ahem.
Subaru cleared his throat lightly as he continued walking through the forest, brushing aside a low branch.
'I just hope my loop point is good this time,' he thought to himself.
'I really don't want to return all the way back to the Capital again.'
The mere idea was exhausting.
Repeating days of events, redoing conversations, rebuilding momentum—it would be a waste of time and mental energy.
Even for someone who had endured fifty years of accumulated experience, the thought of restarting from an inconvenient checkpoint was frustrating.
He was confident in his plan.
More confident than he had been in many previous loops.
He had information.
He had preparation.
He had spells he previously could not even imagine casting.
He had knowledge of the Sin Archbishop's weaknesses.
But confidence did not mean certainty.
There were always variables.
Unexpected movements.
Hidden subordinates.
Abilities he had not personally witnessed yet.
Even with foreknowledge, things could spiral out of control.
Subaru was fully aware of that reality.
If necessary, he was prepared to die again.
Once.
Twice.
As many times as required.
If finishing the Sin Archbishop demanded several attempts, then he would pay that price without hesitation.
After everything he had experienced, death had become less of a fear and more of a tactical reset.
Still—
He would prefer if this attempt succeeded on the first try.
He was ready for the pain.
But he also knew he was not doing this because he was some suicidal hero chasing meaningless self-sacrifice anymore.
…Wait.
He was walking alone into the territory of the Witch Cult to save the village and its people.
Didn't that technically still qualify as suicidal hero behavior?
Subaru frowned slightly at his own thoughts.
'Well,' he muttered internally, trying to rationalize it, 'it's not just that.'
He wasn't doing this purely out of reckless emotion like he had half a century ago.
Back then, he had rushed into danger out of desperation, ego, and a need to prove himself.
He had been impulsive, emotional and blind.
This time was different.
Now, he had a mission.
He was the next Great Sage Candidate.
Purging the Witch Cult was not just personal—it was part of a larger responsibility.
If the Great Sage had passed down both power and expectation to him, then eliminating the Witch Cult was no longer just about protecting a single village.
It was about long-term correction.
About preventing future tragedies.
That was what he told himself.
He refused to categorize himself as the same idiotic version of Subaru from fifty years ago—the one who charged forward without thinking and paid for it repeatedly.
He was more experienced now.
More prepared.
More aware of consequences.
As he continued walking deeper into the forest, his thoughts gradually quieted.
Then—
He heard it.
A faint rustling from the bushes ahead.
Subaru immediately stopped moving.
Without making any visible gestures, he secretly cast a buff spell on himself—one of the sensory enhancement spells he had learned from the Great Sage's transferred knowledge.
The magic subtly sharpened his hearing, sight, and overall perception.
The world around him seemed to clarify.
The rustling became clearer.
There were multiple footsteps, suggesting presence of several beings.
And not the erratic, uneven sounds typical of Mabeasts.
Subaru's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had found them.
'Okay, Subaru… it's time to get into character,' he told himself.
He took a slow breath and steadied his expression.
His plan was not simply to blend in as a random Witch Cultist.
No.
He intended to impersonate a Sin Archbishop.
According to the information the Great Sage had transferred directly into his mind through psychic means, the seat of Pride among the Sin Archbishops was currently vacant.
That position had no confirmed holder at this time.
Which meant there was space.
An opportunity.
And Subaru had one advantage that made this insane idea somewhat plausible.
For reasons he still did not fully understand, he was the target of the Witch of Envy's affection.
Because of that, he constantly emitted an unusually dense Witch's scent—stronger than that of ordinary cultists.
In fact, the intensity of it was comparable to that of a Sin Archbishop.
That was not speculation.
It was confirmed through the Great Sage's knowledge.
So he would use that.
He would present himself not as a mere follower—but as the Sin Archbishop of Pride.
With that authority, he could command the lower-ranking Witch Cultists without immediate resistance.
Fanatics like them valued hierarchy and divine favor above all else.
If they sensed a powerful Witch's scent and saw confidence in his bearing, they would hesitate before questioning him.
And once he had gathered them together in one location—
He would eliminate them in a single decisive strike.
Before leaving the village, he had already changed out of his butler attire.
The formal uniform would have been inappropriate for this role.
Instead, he now wore darker, more imposing clothing suited for the act he was about to perform.
It was not an exact replica of the Witch Cult's robes, but it was close enough to avoid standing out while still allowing him to present himself as someone above them.
Then Subaru stepped forward from the shadows of the forest and began his performance.
"Mongrels, I can hear your voices from miles away. Come out and greet mineself."
Subaru spoke in a deliberately arrogant and contemptuous tone, fully committing to the role.
His chin lifted slightly, and his gaze carried open disdain, as if merely standing in their presence was beneath him.
If he was going to impersonate the Sin Archbishop of Pride, then he needed to embody Pride completely.
The Sin Archbishops did not act modestly.
They did not behave cautiously.
They were extreme embodiments of their respective sins.
Pride, in particular, demanded arrogance, superiority, and absolute self-assurance.
Fortunately, Subaru had observed enough arrogant individuals in recent times to imitate the attitude convincingly.
From nobles to self-proclaimed geniuses, and even fictional characters from anime he once watched, he had a solid reference for exaggerated superiority.
He simply amplified it and stripped away any humor.
His posture radiated entitlement.
His voice carried command.
The forest rustled.
Instantly, figures emerged from the surrounding bushes.
Witch Cultists—fully cloaked in their signature purple robes, their faces hidden beneath hoods.
Their movements were sharp and disciplined.
They stepped out with silent coordination, spreading slightly in a loose formation.
Their body language alone suggested lethal intent.
These were not random zealots.
They were trained to kill.
Subaru's temporarily enhanced senses allowed him to track each movement clearly.
The subtle shift of weight in their steps.
The position of their hands beneath their robes.
The faint metallic sound of concealed weapons brushing against fabric.
He registered all of it.
And yet—
They did not attack.
Instead, the cultists gathered in front of him.
There was a brief, tense moment where they simply stared, as if assessing him.
The air grew heavy, charged with expectation.
Then, almost simultaneously—
They knelt.
Without protest.
Without hesitation.
Their heads lowered toward the ground in reverence.
Subaru did not allow even a flicker of surprise to cross his face.
But internally—
The first phase of his plan had just succeeded.
'Hell yes. The plan is working.'
Subaru suppressed the urge to grin openly and instead allowed only a faint, controlled smirk to form on his lips.
Internally, he felt the tension loosen slightly, but he did not let it show.
Confidence—calculated and overwhelming—was essential right now.
He tilted his head slightly, looking down at the kneeling figures before him as though they were insects unworthy of direct eye contact.
"Mongrels, you should consider yourselves fortunate that you knelt immediately," he said coldly.
"Had you hesitated even for a moment, I would have blown you into pieces for daring to disrespect mineself."
He spread his arms outward in a dramatic, almost theatrical gesture.
The movement was deliberate, exaggerated just enough to feel domineering without appearing unstable.
A manic grin stretched across his face, but behind it was something far more genuine.
When he looked at them again, the expression in his eyes changed.
The disgust was real.
The hatred was real.
It was not part of the act.
He despised them.
The memories of broken villages, massacred innocents, and repeated loops of failure sharpened his gaze.
That authentic revulsion gave weight to his performance.
It made his arrogance feel less like imitation and more like authority.
"I am the Witch Cult's newly enthroned Sin Archbishop," he declared, his voice rising slightly in power.
"I represent Pride."
He paused for a fraction of a second before finishing with absolute confidence.
"Natsuki Subaru."
The name echoed faintly in the forest clearing.
The cultists remained kneeling, their heads still lowered, their bodies tense with reverence.
But Subaru was not finished.
To solidify the illusion—to elevate his authority beyond doubt—he decided to add something that would shake them to their core.
"And," he continued calmly, his grin returning with a sharper edge, "I can Return by Death."
The words were spoken as if they were a divine privilege rather than a curse.
A bold claim.
A dangerous one.
But if he was going to embody Pride—
Then he would do it completely.
Yes.
He spoke the taboo words.
The words that were never meant to be spoken aloud.
The knowledge the Great Sage had transferred to him made one thing very clear: the taboo still existed.
Just because Subaru had been able to speak freely about Return by Death with the Great Sage did not mean the restriction had vanished entirely.
The reason he could speak of it with the Great Sage was simple—the Sage was, in essence, another version of himself.
The taboo did not activate between identical existences.
Likewise, spirits bound through extremely powerful contracts were shielded from certain consequences.
But the Witch Cultists standing before him were neither.
Which meant he had deliberately triggered it.
He knew exactly what would happen next.
The Witch of Envy would react.
Time would freeze.
The world would halt.
That suffocating darkness would descend once again.
Perhaps she would appear behind him.
Perhaps she would wrap her unseen presence around him, restrain him, grip his heart, or grab his hand in that invasive, possessive way she always did.
He would be forced to face the one responsible for his unnatural existence—the one who had denied him a simple, natural death after fifty years of life.
The one who had dragged him back.
Back to half a century ago.
Undoing his peaceful death.
Undoing his life with Rem.
Undoing his children.
Undoing Zarestia.
Undoing Halibel.
All of it erased.
He knew this.
And he said it anyway.
Because when the Witch of Envy reacted, his Witch's scent would spike violently. It would surge beyond normal levels, flooding the area with a presence so dense and oppressive that the Witch Cultists would feel it instinctively.
They worshipped the Witch.
And if her presence flared around him—
If her scent exploded outward in response to his words—
Then his claim as Sin Archbishop of Pride would feel undeniable.
Terrifying.
Divine.
He was gambling with severe consequences.
But if it made his act absolute—
Then it was worth it.
And then it happened the moment he uttered those words.
The world seemed to fade away instantly.
The forest, the kneeling Witch Cultists, the sound of wind through leaves—everything disappeared.
In its place remained a vast emptiness filled with thick, suffocating purple fog that stretched endlessly in every direction.
His declaration never reached the Witch Cultists.
To them, he likely fell silent mid-sentence.
But Subaru knew where he was.
He had been here before.
As the fog surrounded him, Subaru braced himself mentally.
He prepared for the usual punishment—for the crushing pain, for the invisible hands forcing their way into his chest, for the suffocating grip around his heart that made him feel like a puppet dangling from unseen strings.
He prepared to be violated again.
To be dragged once more into the presence of that disgusting Witch.
He closed his eyes.
He expected agony.
He expected his heart to be seized without mercy.
But—
No pain came.
No crushing force tore into his chest.
Instead, he felt something unexpected.
Two arms wrapped around his neck from behind.
Subaru's eyes opened instantly.
The sensation was real.
The hands resting against his collarbone were not the grotesque, slithering black shadows he remembered from before.
They were pale and white, almost indistinguishable from ordinary human hands.
They looked normal.
Too normal.
He could clearly feel the presence of someone standing directly behind him.
Their body pressed lightly against his back as they embraced him.
The hold was firm—
But disturbingly gentle.
There was no violent squeezing.
No immediate suffocation.
No crushing dominance.
It was almost… affectionate.
Subaru's jaw tightened.
Despite the difference in sensation, despite the unexpected softness, he did not dare turn around.
He refused to look at her.
He knew exactly who stood behind him.
The Witch of Envy.
His disgust and anger surged internally, but he kept them contained.
He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his expression.
He would not acknowledge her directly.
Even as her arms wrapped around his neck—
Even as her presence enveloped him—
He kept his gaze forward and his body rigid.
However, what he heard was not the voice of someone consumed purely by obsession.
It was different.
"P-Please… if you need help… call my name—"
The words reached his ears softly.
Subaru froze in place.
For the first time since he had been summoned into this world by the mysterious Witch of Envy, he truly heard her voice.
Not the distorted repetition.
Not the maddening echo of "I love you" spoken over and over again without pause.
Not the inhuman, broken whisper that had haunted him in previous encounters.
This voice—
Why was it gentle?
Why did it carry hesitation?
Why it carry affection?
Why it Sounded humane?
There was no madness in it.
No suffocating possessiveness layered over every syllable.
It did not feel like the voice of a monster clinging to him through a curse.
It sounded like someone speaking sincerely.
Almost… vulnerably.
Subaru's mind stalled.
Before he could process it further, the purple fog vanished.
The next instant, he was back in the forest clearing.
The Witch Cultists were still kneeling before him, though now their bodies were trembling slightly.
The spike in Witch's scent that had erupted from him during the frozen moment had clearly affected them.
The aura lingering around him was far denser than before.
Their foreheads nearly touched the ground in reverence.
Subaru blinked rapidly, forcing his thoughts back into place.
Shock lingered on his face for a brief second—but he suppressed it quickly.
He could not afford to look confused in front of them.
He remembered what he was doing.
He was in the middle of a performance.
His expression shifted immediately.
The arrogance returned to his features.
His chin lifted slightly.
His gaze hardened once more.
Even though questions stormed inside his mind—
Even though he could still hear her voice echoing faintly in his thoughts—
He forced himself to continue the act.
The Witch of Envy had spoken to him.
And her voice had sounded… cute.
Familiar.
Not the monstrous repetition of "I love you" that he had endured before.
That realization unsettled him more than the darkness ever had.
But none of that could show on his face.
Right now—
He was Pride.
"Mongrels, prepare yourselves for my grand entrance!" Subaru declared loudly, spreading his arms before slowly dragging one hand across his face as if restraining overwhelming irritation.
"I am aware of your plans," he continued, his tone dripping with disdain.
"You intend to raid the nearby village and the mansion. However, the manner in which you plan to carry it out disgusts me."
He lowered his hand and revealed a twisted expression of contempt.
"There is no pride in it. No arrogance. No overwhelming dominance. What are you? Rats scurrying in the dark?"
His voice rose sharply at the last word.
The performance was flawless.
His disgust was not entirely fabricated, and that authenticity gave weight to his acting.
The Witch's scent still lingered heavily around him, amplified by the recent taboo activation.
It pressed down on the kneeling cultists like invisible pressure.
They began trembling.
These were individuals who could slaughter innocent children without hesitation.
They were monsters who took pleasure in suffering and chaos. And yet—
Now they were shaking in fear before him.
The irony of the situation was almost absurd.
Subaru was the Great Sage Candidate.
The one destined to purge them.
The one who would stand against their organization and dismantle it piece by piece.
And yet, at the same time—
He was the only person in the world who was truly loved by the Witch of Envy.
The very deity they worshipped.
If they had known the full truth, it would have shattered their faith entirely.
The Witch of Envy did not simply favor him.
In reality, she worshipped him.
The thought was almost laughable in its contradiction.
The cultists believed they were kneeling before a chosen Archbishop.
They did not realize they were kneeling before the object of their goddess's obsession.
And the truth went even deeper.
Even Subaru himself did not fully understand it.
He knew the Witch of Envy had a twisted affection for him.
He knew she clung to him through Return by Death.
He knew her presence followed him across loops.
But he did not know the depth of it.
He did not know that her feelings were not merely obsessive madness.
He did not know that she truly loved him.
That she would die for him without hesitation.
That she would slaughter the entire world if it meant preserving his happiness.
That level of devotion remained hidden from everyone.
Including him.
And so, unaware of the full weight of his position in this twisted hierarchy, Subaru continued his performance—standing arrogantly before trembling fanatics who had no idea how deeply ironic this moment truly was.
As Subaru observed them trembling and lowering themselves even further, he decided to press his advantage.
"I order you!" he declared sharply, his voice carrying absolute authority.
"Gather yourselves at Sloth's location. I will personally have a discussion with him."
He stepped forward slightly, ensuring his shadow fell over them.
"We will not crawl in the shadows like insects," he continued with open contempt.
"We will march as those who possess purpose. We will move with dignity worthy of the Witch of Envy herself!"
His eyes narrowed as he raised his hand dramatically.
"For the Witch of Envy, we will slaughter everyone. But we will not rely on petty tricks or cowardly ambushes. We will demonstrate superiority. We will crush them openly!"
The fanaticism in his tone blended perfectly with arrogance.
It sounded exactly like something a Sin Archbishop of Pride would proclaim.
The cultists reacted immediately.
"As you command, Pride-sama!" they shouted in unison, their voices filled with reverence and devotion.
Not a single one questioned him.
Not a single one hesitated.
They accepted his authority completely.
Subaru maintained his expression for a few more seconds to ensure the illusion remained intact.
Internally, however—
'Hell yeah! The plan worked!' he celebrated in his mind.
He resisted the urge to laugh out loud.
'Damn it… I love you, Sage-Baru. Ever since I met you, my luck has completely turned around!'
Compared to the chaotic failures of his earlier life, this felt almost unfairly smooth.
His infiltration had succeeded.
The Witch's scent spike had sealed the deal.
Now, phase two could begin.
"Great. One of you… ah, yes—you."
Subaru pointed at a random cultist without hesitation.
The selected individual immediately rose to his feet, only to bow deeply again with rigid formality.
"Yes, Pride-sama!" the man responded in an orderly and extremely respectful tone.
"Show me the way to Sloth," Subaru commanded with a dismissive snort, fully immersed in his role.
He allowed his genuine disgust and hatred to seep into his voice, which only made the arrogance sound more authentic.
Then he shifted his gaze toward the rest of the kneeling cultists.
"The rest of you—gather the remaining rats," he said coldly.
"Because I am here to grant you a purpose far more befitting of those who claim to act upon the wishes of our beloved Witch."
His words were theatrical, yet controlled.
"As you command, Pride-sama!" they shouted again in unison.
Subaru maintained his expression, though internally—
'Man, their responses are so repetitive,' he thought with faint amusement.
'I guess messed-up people really do think alike.'
Their blind obedience almost made things too easy.
Still, he did not let his guard down.
Fanatics were dangerous precisely because they lacked hesitation.
Soon, the majority of the Witch Cultists dispersed to carry out his orders.
Their movements were swift and disciplined as they vanished deeper into the forest to gather others and prepare for what they believed would be a grand march.
Only the chosen cultist remained.
"Follow me, Pride-sama," the man said reverently.
Subaru gave a curt nod and followed without another word.
They moved through the forest at a steady pace.
The path was not obvious to untrained eyes, but the cultist navigated it confidently, avoiding traps and concealed markers with familiarity.
Subaru silently observed everything—terrain layout, possible ambush points, escape routes, and environmental cover.
His mind was already calculating contingencies.
Eventually, the atmosphere shifted.
They were approaching the location where the Sin Archbishop of Sloth resided.
As soon as they entered the clearing, Subaru saw him.
The man with green hair.
The twisted posture.
The maniacal expression stretched unnaturally across his face.
The moment their eyes met, Subaru felt his blood boil.
Memories surged forward without permission—memories from previous loops.
Not the peaceful final loop where he lived half a century, but the ones before that.
The ones filled with screams, crushed bones, and shattered minds.
The pain.
The destruction.
The countless deaths this sick man had orchestrated with joy.
He remembered watching people he cared about suffer.
He remembered helplessness.
He remembered rage.
Subaru's fingers twitched, and he slowly clenched his fist at his side.
The urge to kill him immediately was overwhelming.
Every instinct screamed at him to end it right there.
But he forced himself to remain still.
He could not afford to break character.
If he let even a fraction of his true hatred slip through in the wrong way, the entire infiltration would collapse.
His disgust had to look like Pride's disdain—not personal vengeance.
He steadied his breathing.
His face remained arrogant.
Meanwhile, Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti tilted his head slightly as he observed Subaru.
Almost instantly, his expression shifted.
His eyes widened unnaturally as he sensed it.
The Witch's scent.
It was thick.
Overwhelming.
Dense enough to suffocate.
It far surpassed his own.
Petelgeuse trembled—not in fear, but in manic excitement—as the presence radiating from Subaru stirred something deep within his fanatic devotion.
To him, that scent was proof.
Proof of favor.
Proof of divine acknowledgment.
And the man standing before him reeked of it more than anyone he had ever encountered.
"I greet you, believer of love!" Petelgeuse began, spreading his arms theatrically as if welcoming a divine revelation.
His body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from overwhelming excitement.
His eyes twitched as they remained locked onto Subaru, drinking in the suffocating density of the Witch's scent surrounding him.
Subaru responded with a grin.
"I finally meet you, mongrel."
There was a brief silence.
The insult hung openly in the air, blatant and unapologetic.
Subaru had not even attempted to soften it.
He had directly demeaned Sloth without hesitation.
The surrounding Witch Cultists stiffened.
Petelgeuse's head tilted sharply to one side at an unnatural angle.
"I am a Sin Archbishop," Subaru continued loudly, stepping forward with confidence.
"I represent Pride."
Click to reveal image
He extended his thumb toward himself, widening his grin further in an exaggerated display of superiority.
"Natsuki Subaru."
His voice echoed across the clearing.
The tension in the air thickened.
This was not a simple meeting.
This was not merely a conversation between two cult leaders.
This was the moment they finally stood face to face.
The one who claimed to be loved by the Witch—
And the one who actually was loved by the Witch.
And neither of them fully understood just how ironic this encounter truly was.
To be continued...