A divine protection, as the na implies, is a gift the world bestows upon certain individuals out of its own favoritism.
More often than not, whether a person possesses a divine protection — and what kind — is determined at the very mont of birth.
It is absolutely impossible to acquire a new divine protection after the fact. Even the children of the Royal Capital know this as common sense!
And yet, Reinhard was different.
At the age of five, wishing to bring a smile to his father's face, he made a plea to the world for the [Blessing of the Sword Saint] — and succeeded.
Beyond that, in accordance with his own will and state of mind, Reinhard could actively or passively obtain any divine protection he desired.
At tis, it made one wonder: was he the world's beloved child, or was it the world that hungered for his favor?
Accompanied by a sensation rising unbidden from the depths of his heart, a flash of red light crossed Reinhard's sapphire-blue eyes.
The truth behind the deaths of the three thugs appeared in his mind, complete and without omission.
But whether by the world's deliberate design or sothing else entirely, a [Truth] of a far deeper nature also began to surface before his eyes — slowly, inexorably——
The Royal Capital was burning. It had beco a sea of fire.
Flas filled the sky, devouring everything in their path without end.
Buildings collapsed one after another. Through that hellscape, the dying screams and wails of countless lives could be heard on every side.
Children calling for parents, parents calling for children, husbands calling for wives, wives calling for husbands.
Before the main gate of the Royal Capital, in an open clearing ringed by a great circle of raging fire.
Reinhard had only just wrenched himself back to awareness from the vision of the city he had sworn to protect being reduced to ruin.
Those soaring pillars of fla. Those screams that tore the heart from the chest. That scene straight out of the end of days.
Every inch of it seared his nerves — a brutal, ironic mockery of everything he held as his ideal: a kingdom worth protecting.
But in the very next mont, the first thing to claim his attention was a stranger — a black-haired man bleeding from the head — kneeling on the ground, cradling a purple-haired girl whose chest had been run clean through by a sword wound.
The shadow cast by the firelight fell across the black-haired man's face, making it impossible to read his expression.
"You two over there — run, now! I'll get you out of here!"
Reinhard's sapphire pupils contracted slightly in shock. On instinct, he moved to stride into that hellish mirage of fla, to fulfill his duty as the Sword Saint — to save the man and woman who appeared to be trapped in a hopeless abyss.
But the instant his gaze locked onto the black-haired man kneeling there with the purple-haired girl in his arms, sothing more absurd — more bone-chilling — seized his heart in an iron grip.
That man's silhouette… stirred in him an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Not the familiarity of everyday acquaintance, but sothing deeper, more unsettling——
"Hmmmm——"
The vision revealing this [Truth] suddenly convulsed with violent force, like a stone dropped into still water.
The burning flas of the Royal Capital warped and twisted. Every image in his sight rushed forward, zooming in at terrifying speed.
As though the will of the world itself could not wait a mont longer to brand the most essential [Truth] directly into his mind.
And then, at last, he saw it clearly.
Silhouetted against the boundless firelight, in that death-clearing encircled by walls of fla — beyond the kneeling black-haired man and the purple-haired girl of unknown fate cradled in his arms——
There stood a third figure!
The figure was not far from the other two. Tall and straight in posture, a head of blazing red hair whipped wild in the waves of scorching heat, and from their entire being radiated a pressure without equal and… an ice-cold, bone-deep killing intent.
In their hand, gripped tight, was an ordinary longsword drawn from its scabbard — and the tip of that blade was pointed directly at the man and woman on the ground.
Reinhard's gaze hardened in an instant.
That red hair. That build. And the sword hanging at the hip — that one-of-a-kind dragon sword, symbol of absolute might and a sworn oath of protection——
The figure was unmistakably himself.
"The Royal Capital has fallen — was it a natural disaster? War? The Witch Cult? Sothing else entirely…?"
"Why does the version of himself in that image have his blade leveled at two commoners who clearly possess no power whatsoever?"
Reinhard's heart was full of questions left unanswered.
In the next instant, his consciousness was struck by a strange, inexorable pull — emanating from the sword-bearing figure of himself standing in that scene.
In the blink of an eye, heaven and earth spun around him. He crossed from the remove of a third-person observer into the imdiacy of the first person.
It was as though he had truly been hurled through ti to this very day — the day the Royal Capital fell.
Reinhard raised his head and saw the purple-haired girl collapsed on the ground. A sudden clarity detonated inside him, and in an instant he understood the full sequence of cause and effect.
The wound on that purple-haired girl's body — he had dealt it himself, with his own sword.
And yet, she had not been his original target. His original target had been the one who had engineered the Royal Capital's conflagration with a single hand — who had turned the entire city into a living hell.
"Archbishop of Sin of the Witch Cult, Sin of Pride — Natsuki Subaru!"
That purple-haired little girl had thrown herself in front of a blow ant to end that unforgivable wretch — a blow that should have been fatal.
"This ends here——"
Before Reinhard could even begin to sort through the mories that had flooded into his mind, he found the body he now inhabited crying out of its own accord.
His body's jaw was clenched tight, his gaze locked with relentless, almost desperate force onto Natsuki Subaru before him — as though it ant to bore right through him.
In that instant, the fierce surge of emotion pouring from his body transmitted itself into Reinhard's consciousness without obstruction.
The duty to protect the master he served, the people he held dear, the stability of the kingdom — he had failed to preserve a single one of them.
Remorse. Indignation. Fury. And… hatred.
Black fla ignited in the eyes of his body — an expression he had never once shown, not even to those he had faced in mortal combat.
No — not only his body.
The consciousness of Reinhard, now fully imrsed in this scene, felt the sa emotional resonance rising within himself.
"Today will beco the anniversary of your death."
Reinhard felt his body speak the words without his control — and yet they were, equally, the truest words in his heart at this mont.
Yet faced with the direct threat of death, the Archbishop of Pride across from him — Natsuki Subaru — rose to his feet without a shred of fear.
He spread his arms wide, his expression unhinged, his voice saturated with mockery and contempt as he spoke:
"The Sword Saint? The Kingdom's Sword? Other nations write laws specifically because of you?"
"Ha? What a joke!"
Natsuki Subaru stared Reinhard down with gritted teeth, his gaze like sothing trying to pierce straight through to the soul.
"Then tell — what, exactly, have you protected up until now?"
"Say it to my face. Say it! Say it!"
Tears and snot streaked down Natsuki Subaru's face as he roared — laughing and weeping at once.
"I tried every conceivable thod, every possible ans, and started over again and again and again!"
"Otto… is dead. Elsa and ili gave their lives for !"
"I deceived Ferris. I deceived Roswaal."
"I used mbers of the Witch Cult. I stabbed the Archbishops of Sin in the back…"
Natsuki Subaru locked his eyes onto Reinhard, as though summoning every last ounce of strength in his body to make this declaration:
"All of it — every last bit of it — was for the sake of killing you!"
"——Reinhard!"
"What grudge could possibly exist between us, to drive things this far?"
A weight settled deep in Reinhard's chest. His brow furrowed, sharp and heavy.
From where he stood, Natsuki Subaru was nothing more than a man who would stop at nothing in his obsession to kill him.
A man who watched his dear friends die for his sake — and never once wavered in his resolve.
A man who drowned the Royal Capital in fire and slaughtered countless innocents — and still refused to stop.
A madman.
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