...
{3rd Pov}
While the army continued clashing with the White Whale's clones in the distance, another confrontation was about to erupt on the ground.
This one had nothing to do with strategy.
Nothing to do with leadership.
It was about Natsuki Subaru.
Priscilla Barielle and Crusch Karsten stood facing each other, tension thick in the air.
The battlefield roared behind them—magic explosions, shouted commands, the distant screeches of the White Whale—but for a moment, it felt as if all of that had faded into the background.
Aldebaran looked between the two women and let out a nervous breath.
"Hey, hey, ladies… calm down," he said cautiously, raising his hands slightly in a half-hearted attempt at mediation.
"I don't think fighting each other while the White Whale hunt is still going on is exactly a good idea."
From his perspective, both of them looked as if someone had just murdered their husband.
The intensity in their eyes was not political.
It was personal.
"Aldebaran," Priscilla said flatly, without even glancing at him, "shut up before I slice off your tongue along with hers."
Her words were calm, but the threat was absolute.
Then, without missing a beat, she continued issuing orders.
"Oni, take Natsuki Subaru away from here. Aldebaran, you will protect him."
The command was immediate and unquestionable.
A threat and an order delivered in the same breath.
Aldebaran opened his mouth to protest—then closed it again.
There was no point.
He knew better than anyone that once Priscilla Barielle made up her mind, nothing short of overwhelming force would stop her.
Heck scratch that, if Priscilla made up her mind, that was the end of it.
She would not budge even an inch.
She lived exactly the way she pleased—like a blazing sun that refused to dim itself for anyone.
What others thought of her, what they wanted, what they judged her for—none of it mattered to her in the slightest.
She never adjusted herself to accommodate others.
The world could either endure her radiance or be burned by it.
That was simply how Priscilla Barielle existed.
Crusch, meanwhile, slowly dismounted from her ground dragon.
Her boots touched the ground with deliberate calm, though the tension in her posture was unmistakable.
Aldebaran let out another tired sigh.
"You heard the princess," he said, glancing at Rem.
"Let's back off, Miss Rem. Things are about to get messy."
He wasn't exaggerating.
The air between the two Royal Candidates was already crackling with hostility.
If either of them made the first move, it would escalate instantly.
Rem gave a small nod.
She had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.
Her focus had never left Subaru for long. While the political tension unfolded around her, she had continued healing him, steady and precise.
By now, she had repaired most of the damage to his arm and stabilized his internal injuries.
However, the strain, the blood loss, and the trauma had taken their toll.
Subaru had lost consciousness.
Rem felt a tightening in her chest at the sight of his limp form.
She did not understand what was happening.
She did not understand why Priscilla Barielle had suddenly appeared and saved them.
She did not understand why Crusch Karsten had claimed Subaru should be used as bait.
And she certainly did not like the way Priscilla had referred to Subaru as her "property."
That word lingered unpleasantly in her mind.
But right now—
None of that mattered.
Her priority was simple.
Make sure Subaru stayed alive.
Rem understood one thing clearly.
She could not defeat the White Whale alone.
And she certainly could not protect Subaru if the monster chose to target him again.
Nor did she intend to allow him to be used as bait by anyone.
Without hesitation, she bent down and carefully lifted Subaru into her arms in a princess carry.
She adjusted her grip to avoid putting pressure on his recently healed arm, holding him securely against her chest.
That action alone was enough to make Crusch's expression darken.
Seeing another woman holding him so closely stirred something sharp and unpleasant inside her.
It wasn't just irritation—it was possessiveness, anger, and something far more personal.
Crusch instinctively stepped forward.
Before she could take another step, Priscilla's voice cut through the tension.
"Did I give you permission to touch him?" Priscilla said coldly.
"He is my property. He belongs to my divine self. Fuck off before I kill you."
She placed one hand on her hip and looked at the Duchess with an infuriating smirk, her posture relaxed as if she wasn't facing another Royal Candidate at all.
The battlefield roared in the distance, but here, everything felt focused and suffocating.
Crusch's patience snapped.
Her sword was already in her hand.
Green light surged along its blade as wind magic wrapped around it.
The air around her began to swirl violently, dust lifting from the ground as compressed currents formed at her command.
The atmosphere shifted.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
Wind tightened around her like a coiled storm as she moved the sword toward Priscilla's waist, her intent unmistakable.
"DO NOT DARE CALL HIM PROPERTY. RETURN HIM TO ME OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES!"
Crusch's voice thundered across the field, filled with unrestrained fury. Her eyes burned with wrath, her grip on her sword tightening as the wind around her intensified.
Priscilla, however, showed no sign of backing down.
There was no hesitation in her posture. No uncertainty in her expression.
If anything, her smirk widened slightly.
The stalemate shattered.
Crusch moved first.
Wind erupted violently from her blade as she swung it in a lethal arc aimed directly at Priscilla's neck.
The compressed currents sharpened the strike, amplifying both its speed and cutting power. It was not a warning attack—it was meant to maim.
Priscilla reacted instantly.
A burst of radiant light exploded around her body, and in the blink of an eye she had vanished from her original position, reappearing several meters away.
The sheer speed of her movement startled even Crusch.
Before the Duchess could fully adjust—
"Asperia."
Priscilla's chant was calm and deliberate.
A sword made of pure light manifested in her hand, its blade blazing with condensed energy.
Without wasting a second, she charged forward.
Her speed was inhuman, crossing the distance in what felt like a heartbeat.
She appeared at Crusch's side almost instantly.
Crusch reacted on instinct, twisting her body and raising her blade just in time.
Their weapons collided.
The impact was explosive.
A deafening sonic shockwave burst outward from the point of contact, violently dispersing the surrounding fog.
The ground beneath them cracked and splintered under the pressure, lines fracturing outward like a spiderweb.
Dust and debris were thrown into the air.
For a moment, even the battle against the White Whale seemed distant compared to the raw force unleashed between the two Royal Candidates.
The force of the collision was overwhelming.
Crusch was hurled backward from the impact, her body flying several meters through the air before crashing violently into a large boulder hidden within the thinning fog.
The rock shattered on contact, breaking apart from the sheer force alone as her back slammed against it.
Pain shot through her body.
The air was knocked out of her lungs for a brief second, but she refused to remain down.
As she hit the ground, she rolled immediately and pushed herself into a quick leap, boots scraping across the earth as she slid several meters before finally regaining her balance.
She steadied herself.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
Blood began trickling down from her forehead, running along the side of her face. She wiped none of it away.
Instead, she lifted her gaze.
Across from her stood Priscilla Barielle, completely composed.
She stared at Crusch as if she were nothing more than an irritating insect that had dared to strike her. There was no strain in her breathing. No sign that the clash had cost her anything.
The difference in immediate impact was clear.
Their duel had not gone unnoticed.
The shockwave from their collision had cut through the fog and drawn the attention of nearby soldiers.
Even in the midst of fighting the White Whale's clones, many glanced toward the source of the disturbance.
They trusted their leader completely.
They believed in Duchess Crusch Karsten's earlier claim—that Natsuki Subaru was essential to defeating the White Whale.
They believed he was necessary bait, a strategic component of victory.
None of them knew the truth.
None of them understood that, for Crusch, this was no longer about strategy.
She did not want Subaru because he was useful.
She wanted him because he meant everything to her.
However, after witnessing the sheer prowess displayed by Baroness Priscilla Barielle, everyone present—including Crusch Karsten herself—was stunned.
The strength she had just demonstrated was on par with warriors like Wilhelm van Astrea and Julius, both of whom were already considered among the strongest combatants in the Kingdom of Lugunica.
That alone was shocking.
Crusch and Priscilla were Royal Candidates.
They were political figures competing for the throne.
Physical strength had never been a requirement for kingship.
A ruler needed charisma, intelligence, strategic thinking, and capable subordinates—not overwhelming combat ability.
No one expected a future monarch to rival Reinhardt.
No one expected them to stand on equal footing with the Divine Generals of Vollachia.
And yet—
What Priscilla had just shown did not resemble the strength of a mere ruler.
It was the strength of a world-class frontline warrior.
Her speed, her reaction time, the precision of her magic—it all pointed toward someone who had trained far beyond what was publicly known.
Even Julius, who had momentarily turned his attention toward their clash despite the battle still raging around him, felt something tighten in his chest.
A chill ran down his spine.
That speed…
It was almost reminiscent of someone else.
'That speed… it's almost like Cecilus,' Julius thought, recalling the blue lightning of Vollachia who had once nearly killed him.
The comparison unsettled him.
Cecilus was a monster in human form.
To feel even a faint similarity between him and Priscilla Barielle was deeply disturbing.
And yet, that was exactly what he had sensed in that brief exchange.
For the first time, many of them began to realize—
They had severely underestimated her.
"You vermin… you dare raise your sword against me?" Priscilla said coldly.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
Then a mocking smile spread across her face.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
"Watch me slice that head off your neck."
Her tone was not loud, but it carried absolute confidence.
There was a reason Priscilla Barielle was this strong right now.
Although she had lost the refined muscle memory she built over decades due to returning to the past, she had also returned to the prime of her youth.
Her body was no longer worn down by age.
Her mana pathways were in optimal condition.
Her stamina had reset to its peak.
More importantly—
She still retained her knowledge.
She remembered every spell she had learned.
Every technique she had refined.
Every innovation she had created together with her darling, Natsuki Subaru.
Yang Magic was not merely a destructive element.
It excelled in enhancement.
It could strengthen the body, accelerate movement, reinforce durability, and temporarily push a person beyond their natural limits.
Combined with passive mana augmentation flowing through her muscles, it allowed her to operate at an abnormal level even by this world's standards for short bursts.
While she could not yet perform the ultimate techniques she had once developed alongside Subaru—those required deeper synchronization and months of retraining—her current capabilities were still monstrous.
By layering self-buffs, increasing physical output, and amplifying reaction speed through Yang reinforcement, she became overwhelmingly fast and strong in short engagements.
The clash moments ago had been proof of that.
If she focused entirely on the White Whale instead of this confrontation—
She was fully capable of killing it alone.
That was not arrogance.
That was calculation.
Meanwhile, every instinct within Crusch Karsten was screaming at her.
Run.
Retreat.
Surrender.
Her battle-honed senses recognized the danger immediately.
The pressure radiating from Priscilla was not normal.
It was overwhelming.
Every fiber of her being warned her that if this continued, she could very well die.
But her grip on the hilt of her sword only tightened.
Surrender?
That was not an option.
From her perspective, this was not a simple clash between Royal Candidates.
In her mind, Priscilla Barielle was attempting to claim Natsuki Subaru as her possession—to enslave him, to reduce him to a tool under her control.
And that was something Crusch could never allow.
Not even at the cost of her own life.
To her, a world without Natsuki Subaru—her husband, her liege, her lord—was not worth living in.
If protecting him meant facing someone stronger—
Then so be it.
She would rather die fighting than step aside and watch him be taken.
Crusch slowly shifted into a battle stance.
The posture felt unfamiliar to her current body, yet deeply familiar to her mind.
Her muscles hesitated for a fraction of a second, but her instincts guided her.
She adjusted her footing, lowered her center of gravity, and tightened her grip on her sword.
Then she took a deep breath.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
She began regulating her breathing rhythm, drawing in air at a controlled pace and releasing it just as steadily.
Her heartbeat, which had been pounding wildly from the earlier clash, gradually began to synchronize with her breath.
In this world, mana was the ultimate source of power.
Everything revolved around it.
Magic, enhancement, even physical strength—all of it depended on mana manipulation. Warriors did not become strong purely through muscle and discipline.
They augmented their bodies with mana techniques, reinforcing bones, accelerating reflexes, and amplifying strikes.
Even the greatest swordsmen relied on mana to push their limits.
No one had seriously considered surpassing those limits through sheer physical conditioning alone.
But Subaru had.
In her previous timeline, his gate had been weak.
Pathetically weak.
He could not reinforce his body properly with mana like others could.
It had always frustrated him.
It angered him deeply, that limitation.
Yet instead of accepting it, he looked for another path.
One day, inspired by Crusch's wind control techniques and mixing it with his half-baked otaku knowledge from his previous life, he proposed something different.
What if, instead of relying on mana to forcefully enhance the body—
They optimized the body itself?
He began experimenting.
Breathing control.
Muscle tension management.
Heart rhythm regulation.
Subtle control over blood flow and nerve response.
At first, it was clumsy.
Imperfect.
But Subaru was stubborn.
They trained together whenever they had time.
Sometimes late into the night.
Through trial and error, bruises, and countless failures, they slowly refined the concept.
They created it together.
And now—
Though her body had reverted to its younger state—
Her mind still remembered every step of that technique.
The technique they had created together was called the Wind Breathing Style.
It was not pure magic.
It was not pure physical strength either.
It was a hybrid discipline—one that forced the body into a temporarily supernatural state by drastically increasing oxygen intake, triggering controlled adrenaline release, and overriding the natural limiters that restrained human output.
It synchronized breathing, heart rhythm, muscle contraction, and minimal mana flow into a unified surge.
For a short duration, the body ignored its own safety restrictions.
Pain dulled.
Reaction speed sharpened.
Strength multiplied beyond normal thresholds.
In her previous life, Crusch had already possessed formidable physical power due to mana augmentation techniques common in this world.
But after mastering Wind Breathing Style with Subaru, she had reached an entirely new level.
It had cemented her position as his right-hand woman, his most reliable blade, and his most loyal subordinate.
She had been terrifying.
But this body—
This younger body had never trained in it.
The moment she forced the breathing pattern into motion, her lungs protested violently.
Oxygen flooded too quickly.
Her heart rate spiked unnaturally.
Veins bulged beneath her skin as the strain tore through muscles unprepared for the load.
Blood surged up her throat.
She vomited it out.
Several capillaries in her lungs ruptured under the sudden pressure.
Across from her, Priscilla sneered.
Then she moved.
She advanced at a controlled pace for a second—
And then exploded forward at superhuman speed.
Crusch made her decision.
She pushed further.
She broke the body's limiters.
There was a sharp, thunderous sound—
Boom.
The ground beneath her feet cracked as she launched forward.
Their weapons met again.
The impact was far more violent than before.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
Priscilla's golden blade—formed of condensed light—shattered into radiant particles under the sheer force of Crusch's enhanced strike. The wind surrounding Crusch roared outward, dispersing the blood that had stained her face and clothes.
Her sword cut cleanly through the fading remnants of Priscilla's weapon.
For the first time—
The balance of power shifted.
Crusch did not hesitate.
The moment Priscilla's golden blade shattered into particles, she twisted her wrist mid-air and redirected her momentum.
Her sword carved downward in a brutal arc aimed directly at Priscilla's waist.
It was a killing blow.
Priscilla reacted at the last possible second.
With urgency she had not shown before, she summoned her true weapon.
Her Yang Sword materialized in a flash of radiant light.
Boom.
The impact was catastrophic.
The Yang Sword intercepted Crusch's strike just before it could cleave through her body, but the sheer force behind the attack was overwhelming.
Even with the divine blade absorbing much of the damage, Priscilla was blasted backward like a ragdoll.
Her body tore across the ground, carving a deep trench through soil and rock.
Stones shattered on impact.
The earth cracked violently beneath her as she crashed through debris, bones cracking under the force.
The shockwave did not stop there.
It rippled outward across the battlefield like an explosion.
The ground trembled violently, creating a localized earthquake that nearly knocked several soldiers off their feet.
Magic circles flickered.
Formations wavered.
Above them, the air itself seemed to rupture.
The shockwave cleared away the surrounding dragon mist, revealing the full scale of the battlefield—two White Whale clones locked in combat with the combined forces of the Karsten and Hoshin camps.
For a brief second—
Even the battle against the Whale paused.
Soldiers, magicians, and commanders alike turned their heads toward the source of that monstrous collision.
They saw it clearly.
Priscilla Barielle's body lay at the end of a freshly carved ravine, dust and debris settling around her.
And far ahead—
Crusch Karsten stood alone, sword lowered slightly, breathing heavily.
But she did not look victorious.
She looked exhausted.
That single strike had cost her everything.
She had broken her body's natural limiters.
She had forced an untrained, inexperienced younger body to execute a technique that required years of conditioning.
The Wind Breathing Style was never meant to be used recklessly.
It was self-destructive.
Now the consequences arrived all at once.
Her muscles screamed.
Her lungs burned as if set on fire.
Her bones felt as though they were splintering from within.
Searing pain shot through her entire frame, threatening to collapse her stance.
She had gained monstrous strength for a single moment.
And now her body was paying the price.
"Let's go."
The moment the shockwave settled and both Royal Candidates were momentarily separated, Anastasia Hoshin seized the opportunity.
Ricardo spurred the ground dragon forward without hesitation, charging straight toward the group where Natsuki Subaru lay.
Julius followed closely behind on another mount, his sword already drawn as a precaution.
They crossed the distance quickly.
Rem, Aldebaran, and the half-conscious Otto barely had time to react before the two ground dragons skidded to a halt near them, dirt scattering under their claws.
Weapons were raised.
Ricardo gripped his blade tightly.
Julius positioned himself slightly ahead, acting as a guard as instructed.
"Hand over hu—Natsuki Subaru into our custody," Anastasia said coldly.
She almost slipped.
The word husband nearly left her lips.
Her tone was sharp, commanding, the voice of a merchant queen used to issuing decisive orders.
But the moment her gaze dropped to Subaru—
Her expression softened almost imperceptibly.
He lay unconscious, pale, still stained with dried blood.
Even after Rem's healing, he looked fragile, exhausted and vulnerable.
Her husband.
The man she had lived decades beside.
The one she loved more than anything.
For a split second, the cold calculation in her eyes wavered.
Then she steadied herself.
Now was not the time to show weakness.
"Never! I will not let you use him as bait!"
Rem's voice rang out sharply, filled with anger.
A single horn erupted from her forehead as she released more of her power, her presence intensifying instantly.
The air around her shifted as her Oni strength surfaced.
Aldebaran stepped forward as well, unsheathing his weapon and pointing it toward Anastasia's group.
"Miss Hoshin," he said evenly, though tension lined his voice, "why don't you and your subordinates back off? I don't think you'd enjoy making an enemy out of my Lady."
Anastasia showed no visible reaction.
"Get him," she muttered coldly.
There was no hesitation in her tone. No emotion. Her focus was singular.
All she wanted was her husband back.
Julius and Ricardo dismounted immediately. Steel flashed as they stepped forward, intent on securing Subaru by force if necessary.
But just as they prepared to move—
Their instincts screamed.
Danger.
Both of them spun around instantly, raising their weapons just in time.
Two strikes collided against their blades simultaneously.
One burned with blazing Yang energy.
The other roared with compressed wind.
The impact shook the ground beneath them.
Priscilla Barielle and Crusch Karsten had reentered the fray.
Only moments ago they had been trying to kill each other.
Now they were attacking in the same direction.
Julius and Ricardo were forced backward several meters, boots carving trenches into the earth as they struggled to absorb the overwhelming force.
The ground cracked beneath their feet from the pressure of the exchange.
Anastasia reacted quickly, leaping off her ground dragon and retreating to Ricardo's side for protection.
Dust settled slowly around them.
Despite their injuries—despite exhaustion, cracked bones, and internal strain—both Royal Candidates stood upright.
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
[Scene Illustration — click to view]
Their eyes were filled with utter disgust and wrath as they stared at Anastasia and her subordinates.
"Get away from Natsuki Subaru!!"
They shouted the words at the same time.
For a brief second, the battlefield felt completely still.
The two women who had just been locked in a deadly duel now stood united by a single instinct—
No one else was allowed to touch him.
Anastasia Hoshin gritted her teeth in frustration.
Everything had been under control just moments ago.
She had been about to make another move—about to shift the situation back in her favor—when she suddenly heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind.
"Ana-sama!"
She turned sharply.
"Mimi?" she said, recognizing the small figure rushing toward them.
Mimi's face was pale with panic, her usual energetic expression replaced with urgency.
"Ana-sama! Our army is exhausted!" Mimi shouted breathlessly.
"We can't hold back the Whale copies anymore!"
Her words forced all of them to look back toward the battlefield they had momentarily ignored.
The situation had changed drastically.
Soldiers were scattered across the ground—some motionless, others writhing in pain.
Several had been swallowed by the White Whale's thick mist, their screams cut short.
Others had been smashed aside like toys when the clones descended again with renewed aggression.
Magicians were panting heavily, retreating while trying to cast defensive spells.
Their mana reserves were nearly depleted.
The cannons that had once bombarded the sky stood silent.
Out of ammunition.
The morale that had been high earlier was beginning to crumble.
What had seemed like a controlled engagement was rapidly spiraling into chaos.
For a brief moment, the three Royal Candidates—and their closest subordinates—stood frozen.
Their confrontation over Subaru was suddenly overshadowed by the brutal reality of the battlefield collapsing around them.
They all understood the same thing at once.
If this continued—
None of them might leave alive.
The question was no longer just who would take Natsuki Subaru.
It had become—
How do we escape with him at all?
"Wait—?! What's happening?!"
Subaru suddenly gasped as consciousness snapped back into him.
His body jerked upright instinctively, even though his muscles still ached and his head felt heavy from blood loss and shock.
The moment he stood—
All three women's eyes locked onto him.
And before any of them could stop themselves—
"Husband!"
"Darling!"
"My Lord!"
The words came out at the exact same time.
Silence fell.
A thick, suffocating silence.
Julius froze mid-stance.
Mimi blinked rapidly.
Ricardo's jaw dropped slightly.
Rem stiffened.
Even Aldebaran slowly turned his helmeted head between the three Royal Candidates as if trying to confirm he had heard correctly.
Subaru, meanwhile, looked completely lost.
He blinked once.
Twice.
He looked around in panic, trying to process what was happening.
The battlefield was in chaos.
Soldiers were retreating.
The White Whale roared somewhere in the distance.
The ground was cracked.
Dust lingered in the air.
And in front of him—
Everyone had taken a battle stance.
Weapons were drawn.
Tension filled the space like a coiled spring.
And all of them—
Every single one—
Were staring at him.
Did he just hear that correctly?
Did the three Royal Candidates just call him… something?
His brain struggled to catch up.
The three women, meanwhile, realized what they had done.
All that planning.
All that careful wording.
All the restraint they had shown until now—
Ruined in a single moment.
They had exposed themselves.
Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor.
To be continued...