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---
Rem's horn vanished as though the night had silently taken it back.
It did not happen all at once. First it lost its glow, then its shape, and finally its presence. The white light that had turned her forehead into the center of the storm gradually faded, leaving behind skin, sweat, mud, and a trembling that did not belong to her body, but to something deeper. Rem remained on her knees before Link, clinging to his bloodstained clothes with fingers that no longer had enough strength to hold a morning star, but still had enough to refuse to release the thing keeping her anchored to the world.
Link did not move either.
He could not decide whether it was because of exhaustion, fear that she would lose herself again if he pulled away too soon, or because a small and far too human part of him, considering the amount of blood covering his body, needed to make sure Rem was still there. Her breath brushed his neck. The weight of her forehead rested close to his chest. The scent of her blood and mana mingled with his own, with that of the Wolgarms, and with the blue ash still floating through the air.
For the first time in hours, the forest was silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
The trees remained broken. The earth was carved with trenches left by magic, claws, kagunes, and the fall of the Boss Wolgarm. Mabeast corpses lay everywhere: some burned until they were nothing but black shadows, others cut apart, others crushed, and still others reduced to blue ash inside perfect circles where Link's fire had decided the threat ended. The boss's corpse lay near a split boulder, enormous and twisted, with its skull destroyed and its horn shattered. A short distance away, several hornless Mabeasts remained crouched, wounded and obedient, not daring to move either toward Link or away from him. Luci floated above the young man's shoulder, her light trembling like a nervous candle.
Subaru, half supported by Ram, breathed with difficulty. He was still alive, which by that morning already felt like a poorly written miracle. His face was pale, his clothes torn, and his eyes fixed on Link and Rem with such an enormous mixture of relief, fear, and exhaustion that he could not even make a joke when the silence began to weigh too heavily.
Ram could.
—If the two of you are finished turning the forest into an emotional theater, Ram would appreciate it if someone remembered that we are still surrounded by corpses.
Her voice sounded dry.
Normal.
That was precisely why Subaru almost laughed.
Almost.
Rem trembled in Link's arms.
—Nee-sama...
Rem's voice was barely a thread.
Ram closed her eye.
For an instant, her perfect mask revealed the smallest crack. Not an open expression of anguish, nothing as vulgar as crying, but the relief of someone who had been holding her breath since before entering the forest.
—Rem continues to make others wait for far too long —she said.
—Rem... is sorry.
—Ram did not ask for an apology. She asked for efficiency.
Subaru looked at Ram, then Rem, then Link.
—Sometimes I can't tell whether your way of showing affection has thorns or whether the thorns have developed a way of showing affection.
Ram looked at him.
—Barusu should conserve oxygen. His usefulness drops even further when he speaks while injured.
—Then my usefulness has always been in danger.
—Correct.
The absurd normality of that exchange touched something inside Rem. Her fingers tightened around Link's clothes. She did not raise her head.
—Rem failed again.
The words were so quiet that perhaps only Link was meant to hear them.
But everyone heard.
The entire hollow seemed to grow colder.
Link did not answer immediately. Not because he did not want to, but because any simple answer would have sounded false. Saying "no" was not enough. Saying "you didn't fail" was too easy for someone who did not understand the full weight behind those words. He did not know Rem's history. He did not know why her horn hurt like a debt. He did not know what it meant to look at Ram and feel lesser, or why "failure" sounded like such an old word in her mouth. He could imagine things, but imagining was not knowing.
So he chose not to lie.
—I don't know what that means to you —he said.
Rem remained still.
—I don't know the full story. I don't know what you're comparing yourself to, or whom, or for how long. I don't know what part of you decided that every mistake must be paid for in blood.
Ram slightly opened her eye.
Subaru did not move.
Link lowered his voice.
—But I do know what I saw.
Rem swallowed.
—Link saw... something shameful.
—I saw someone enter the forest alone to save people who might never even understand it.
—Rem put everyone in danger.
—I saw someone keep fighting even though her body could no longer continue.
—That is not something worthy.
—I didn't say it was healthy. I said I saw it.
Rem raised her head slightly.
Her eyes were wet.
That struck Link harder than the earth attack.
The Rem who had crushed Wolgarms with a morning star, the Rem who had entered Oni form until she lost her reason, the Rem who could look at a wound and respond with icy efficiency, was there trembling without her horn, her face stained with blood and mud, unable to hide that something inside her had fallen to its knees long before her body had.
—Rem should not have needed to be saved —she said.
Link looked at her.
—That's stupid.
Subaru choked on his own pain.
—Link...
Ram tilted her head slightly, almost interested.
Rem blinked.
—What?
—I said it's stupid.
—Link, Rem is trying to—
—Yes, I know. You're trying to do that thing where you turn your suffering into a list of duties so it sounds nobler. But it's still stupid.
Rem's eyes widened.
For one second, Subaru thought the morning star was going to rise again through pure reflex.
It did not.
Instead, Link suddenly sat down in front of her because his legs had stopped asking permission before failing. The fall was clumsy and heavy, raising a small cloud of blue ash. Rem instinctively tried to support him.
—Link is injured.
—I'm in one piece. That counts as a victory by my current standards.
—Link lost an arm.
—It grew back.
—That does not make it all right.
—No. But it does make it difficult to use as an argument for keeping me still.
Rem looked at him with a lost expression, almost offended by the logic.
Link took a deep breath. His chest hurt. The improvised spell had left something hollow behind his ribs, not exactly hunger, but exhaustion in a place where muscles should not be able to grow tired. His kagunes shifted slightly behind him, slow like wounded animals. Luci descended until she floated beside Rem's cheek, and the girl looked at her with faint surprise. The spirit's light did not judge. It was simply there.
—Rem —Link said—, everyone needs to be saved at some point. Even monsters. Even strong people. Even those who cook well. Even those who carry chained maces and wear a face that says "I can handle this alone" while they're about to collapse.
—Rem does not have that face.
—You absolutely do.
Subaru weakly raised one hand.
—I confirm it. It's a very specific expression.
Ram looked at him.
—Barusu should not participate in conversations exceeding his facial beauty.
—That was unnecessarily cruel and strangely specific.
Rem made a sound.
It was not laughter.
Not entirely.
But it resembled it closely enough that Link felt his body loosen by a centimeter.
—Rem does not understand how Link can speak like that after what happened.
—Because if I don't speak like this, I'll fall over.
The honesty of the answer killed the incomplete smile.
Rem lowered her gaze.
—Rem also caused Link to be injured.
—Many things injured me. You're not the only one entitled to take credit.
—Link.
—Rem.
She closed her mouth.
Link leaned slightly toward her.
—Listen to me once without turning every word into punishment. I came here because I wanted to. I fought because I wanted to. I took those hits because I wanted to. I held you when you were out of control because I wanted to. No one forced me.
—Rem did not ask—
—You didn't have to ask.
The words remained between them.
Rem clenched her hands over her torn and stained skirt.
—Why?
Link lowered his gaze.
He had answered that question before, in the middle of battle, when the blood, fear, and blue fire left no room for shame. Now, in the silence afterward, saying it again felt more difficult. More real. More vulnerable. It was ridiculous that a man capable of tearing horns from Mabeasts could fear one sentence more than an entire pack, but there he was.
Subaru watched him with unusual attention.
Ram did as well.
Link ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that it was covered in dried blood. The result was worse. Even broken as she was, Rem looked almost ready to correct him for making himself dirtier.
—Because I love you —Link finally said—. And before you start trying to turn that into some kind of debt, obligation, or strange payment, no. You do not have to answer. You do not have to believe that makes you responsible for me. You do not have to act differently because I said it. It is simply the reason. You asked why. That is the answer.
Rem stopped breathing for an instant.
Subaru looked toward the sky between the branches with the expression of someone who had just witnessed a romantic confession in the middle of a slaughterhouse and could not decide whether to applaud or faint from anemia.
Ram closed her eye.
—The gardener chooses horrible moments for sentimental declarations.
—I haven't had many good moments lately —Link replied.
—That does not improve his judgment.
—No, but it explains it.
Rem lowered her gaze, and a tear fell onto her hands.
One.
Then another.
—Rem does not know what to do with that.
Link nodded.
—I didn't know what to do when I realized it either.
—Rem is not someone who...
She could not finish.
The sentence broke in half.
Link did not push her.
He did not ask what she meant.
He did not demand the story.
He simply waited.
Rem closed her fingers until her knuckles turned white.
—Rem has things inside her that are not beautiful.
—So do I.
—Rem has hated.
—So have I.
—Rem has been cruel.
Link thought of the forest, of the chain in another loop, of Subaru screaming, of himself biting into Mabeast flesh with a smile he did not want to remember. He thought about the things that could live inside someone without asking permission.
—So have I —he repeated more quietly.
—Rem cannot simply accept...
—You don't have to accept anything today.
Rem looked at him.
—Then what should Rem do?
Link pointed to the ground beside her.
—Sit down.
She blinked.
—Sit?
—Yes. Breathe. Stop trying to solve your entire life in a clearing filled with corpses. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to insult me for being reckless, do it when you're no longer trembling. If you want to tell me something, tell me whenever you want. If you don't want to, don't. But for now, you sit and breathe.
Subaru looked at Ram.
—That was surprisingly mature.
—Barusu has low standards because he knows himself.
—Fair.
Rem slowly lowered herself to sit on the earth.
She did so as though she were uncertain whether she had permission.
Link sat across from her, equally bloodstained, equally exhausted, and equally absurd. Luci floated between them like a small lamp conducting an emotional interrogation. Rem looked at the sphere, then at Link.
—Luci is all right.
—Luci has better survival instincts than we do.
—That is not difficult —Subaru said.
Link weakly pointed toward him.
—You're not allowed to talk. Half the forest bit you.
Subaru raised his bandaged hand, now covered in fresh marks.
—Yes, my canine fan club got carried away.
The sentence would have continued if the air had not changed.
Ram was the first to sense it.
She raised her face.
Link did the same, but for a different reason: the scent of mana arrived before the figure. Dense, elegant, controlled to an almost offensive degree. It was not Puck. It was not Beatrice. It was not Emilia. It was something more calculated, something that smelled of theater, fire, and a painted smile.
Roswaal L. Mathers descended into the clearing as though he had deliberately chosen a theatrical entrance.
He did not fall.
He floated.
His body lowered from the treeline with a lightness that made the idea of walking seem vulgar. His extravagant clothes remained immaculate, and his painted face held the elongated smile Link had learned to distrust even when Roswaal said kind things. Behind him, the sky between the branches was pale with morning. Around him, the remnants of mana shifted as though recognizing someone with the authority to command the scene.
—Wheeell, well —Roswaal said, surveying the clearing—. It seems I missed quite the lively performance.
Subaru, still leaning against Ram, released a sound somewhere between relief and anger.
—You're late!
Roswaal tilted his head.
—That seems to be a recurring accusation against me.
—Because you earn it!
—In my defense, the forest is large, Subaru-kun. And all of you possess an admirable talent for locating the most troublesome place available.
Link did not stand.
Not because he did not want to confront him, but because his body chose that moment to remind him that he had cast a spell invented with his soul, fought a Boss Wolgarm barehanded, and served as the visual centerpiece of a tragedy. Even so, his kagunes shifted behind him, slow and defensive. The hornless Mabeasts nearby lowered their heads when they sensed his tension.
Roswaal looked at them.
Interest flashed in his eyes.
—Oh.
Subaru followed his gaze.
—Yes. That happened too.
—I can see that.
Ram spoke from where she stood, forcing herself to remain composed.
—Roswaal-sama. Several Wolgarms fled toward the northeast. Others remain hidden among the trees. Those staying beside the gardener have no horns and appear to obey his commands.
—A veeery interesting observation.
Rem lowered her head.
—Roswaal-sama, Rem—
—Later —Roswaal said.
The word was gentle.
Not cruel.
But final.
Rem closed her mouth.
Roswaal raised a hand.
The forest burned.
Not like Link's spell. There was no blue lotus, no morning-star shape, no heat distinguishing love from threat. Roswaal needed no lengthy chant, visible emotion, or explanation. He merely extended his fingers, and magic responded with terrifying precision. Flames appeared among the distant trees, not spreading like an uncontrolled wildfire, but emerging exactly where they needed to emerge. The scream of a Wolgarm cut through the morning. Then another. Then several.
Subaru trembled.
He could not see them, but he could hear them.
The Wolgarms that had escaped, those trying to hide, and those the pack had left behind began dying one by one beneath fire that never missed. There was no pursuit. There was no battle. Roswaal remained inside the clearing with one hand raised and a faint smile, and the forest obeyed him from a distance. Link felt mana move like invisible lines, a network of precise heat closing around every hostile trace.
A hornless Mabeast whimpered beside him.
Link instinctively raised a kagune.
Roswaal looked toward them.
—These as well?
—No —Link said.
The answer emerged before he could think.
Roswaal arched a painted eyebrow.
Subaru stared at him as though Link had decided to adopt a pack inside a hospital.
—No?
Link swallowed. His throat hurt.
—Those are not attacking. Not anymore. I broke their horns.
Roswaal's smile widened.
—I noticed.
—If they obey, they can be useful.
Ram slowly opened her eye.
—The gardener is proposing that we keep Mabeasts as household pets.
—I didn't say household pets.
—Worse.
Subaru raised one finger.
—Before this officially becomes a discussion about infernal adoption, may I ask whether that's a good idea?
—No —Ram said.
—Thank you for the honesty.
Link looked at Roswaal.
—They can serve as guard dogs. Far away from the children. Confined. Watched. If they become dangerous again, I will kill them myself.
The hornless Mabeasts remained crouched, trembling under the pressure of Roswaal's fire and Link's kagunes. They did not look cute. They did not look grateful. They looked broken. That was the unpleasant part. Link was not going to pretend otherwise. But they were useful. Or they could become useful. And in the ugliest depths of his body, part of him recognized another use he did not wish to say aloud.
Roswaal placed one finger against his chin.
—A rather unconventional proposal.
—We've had an unconventional night.
—Certainly. Although the village's safety remains a priority.
—That's why I said far from the village. There's land at the mansion. Or cages. Or whatever a noble with too many hallways uses to store dangerous things.
Subaru blinked.
—Did you just assume Roswaal has a room for dangerous things?
Ram looked at him.
—Barusu, all of us assumed that.
—Correct. Bad question.
Roswaal laughed softly.
—I can consider the idea. Under strict conditions. If these creatures show the slightest sign of acting against the mansion or village, they will be eliminated.
—Fair.
—And you will be responsible for their behavior.
Link closed his eyes for an instant.
—I expected that.
—Naturally.
Rem looked at the hornless Mabeasts.
Her expression tightened. Link noticed. To her, they were not tools. They were creatures that had bitten children, cursed Subaru, dragged her guilt into the forest, and nearly destroyed all of them. Asking to preserve them was, in its own way, a practical cruelty. Link knew that. That was why he did not present it as compassion.
—You do not have to like them —he told her quietly.
Rem looked at him.
—I do not like them.
—Neither do I.
—Then why...?
Link looked toward the dead boss.
—Because this world uses everything against us. We can start returning the favor.
Rem did not answer.
Roswaal lowered his hand.
The distant screams stopped.
The forest became still in a more definitive way.
—That should take care of the nearby fugitives —he said—. If more distant traces remain, they will be handled during the later cleanup. We cannot allow this incident to repeat itself.
Subaru let his head fall backward, exhausted.
—"Later cleanup" sounds less traumatic than it feels.
—The choice of words is important, Subaru-kun.
—My body does not appreciate poetry.
Luci descended until she floated in front of Roswaal. The minor spirit flickered, perhaps attracted by the mana, perhaps curious, or perhaps too innocent to understand that she was looking at one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. Roswaal observed the light with interest.
—And you have acquired a minor spirit as well.
Link placed one hand in front of Luci.
—Luci is not available for adoption.
Roswaal smiled.
—I was not going to suggest it.
Subaru murmured:
—He thought about it.
—Probably —Ram said.
Still seated, Rem looked at Link as though she had only just noticed that even covered in blood, half destroyed, and with a broken pack behind him, he still found room to protect a useless little ball of light. She did not know what to do with that observation. She stored it away. Perhaps for later.
Roswaal walked toward the Boss Wolgarm's corpse.
The boss remained sprawled against the broken boulder, enormous and deformed by Link's blows. No threat remained within it. Only mass, blood, fur, a shattered horn, and a stench so powerful Subaru had to turn his face away.
—The leader, I assume —Roswaal said.
—Yes —Ram replied—. It should confirm the primary source of the curses.
Subaru touched his own chest.
The pain was still there, but the deadly pull had weakened. It had not vanished completely, or perhaps his body was too exhausted to notice the difference. Even so, he could breathe. That was already more than he had expected upon waking.
—So I'm... less dead?
Roswaal looked at him with amusement.
—A very Subaru-kun way of expressing it.
—I'm accepting non-sarcastic answers.
Ram spoke.
—Barusu will survive. Unfortunately, he will still have to endure recovery.
—That answer contained poison, but I'll accept the important part.
Link was staring at the boss's corpse.
Not with fear.
With calculation.
Subaru noticed the look and felt his soul attempt to leave his body before the curse could.
—No.
Link did not look at him.
—I haven't said anything.
—Your face said something.
—My face is covered in blood, Subaru. Don't trust it.
Rem followed his gaze toward the corpse.
—Link...
Link raised one hand, not so much to stop her as to ask the world's permission to formulate something stupid.
—Question.
Ram closed her eye.
—Ram already hates the question.
—Can I keep the large corpse?
Silence.
Subaru stared at him.
Ram opened her eye.
Rem blinked.
Roswaal smiled as though someone had just offered him free entertainment.
—For what purpose?
Link ran his tongue across his lips, immediately regretted it when he tasted dried blood, and cleared his throat.
—Soup.
The silence worsened.
Subaru raised both hands.
—No! No, no, no! There is a line between surviving and turning trauma into broth!
Ram looked at him with absolute dryness.
—Barusu speaks as though he has not accepted free food under worse circumstances.
—Never from a cursed demonic dog boss!
—That is because he lacks broad culinary opportunities.
—Ram, don't defend him!
Rem looked at Link with an expression that was not pure horror, but something close to "I am too tired to process this."
—Link... wishes to cook a Mabeast.
—Technically, I already ate one.
Subaru brought both hands to his face.
—Don't say it like that!
Link lowered his gaze.
The joke failed to hold.
Because it was true.
And because all of them knew it.
Rem as well.
She did not pull away, but her expression changed. Not disgust. Not fear. Concern. That was worse. Link would have preferred disgust. Disgust was easy to receive. Concern demanded explanations.
—It is not for any of you —he said more quietly—. Not if you don't want it. But my body... reacts to them. To Mabeast flesh. It restores me. Mana, strength, wounds. I don't fully understand how. But it does.
Subaru stopped protesting.
Ram observed Link with renewed attention.
Roswaal, naturally, already seemed to have filed it away as valuable information.
Rem held Link's gaze.
—Is Link hungry?
The question was simple.
Too simple.
Link took a while to answer.
—Not like before.
It was not a complete answer.
But it was as honest as he could manage.
Rem lowered her eyes toward her hands. Then she looked at him again.
—If it helps Link remain alive, Rem will not judge him.
Link felt something close inside his throat.
—Rem.
—Although Rem does not wish to try Wolgarm soup.
Subaru released a broken laugh, perhaps from relief, or perhaps because his brain had surrendered.
—Thank you. Someone with gastronomic sanity.
Ram commented:
—Ram does not wish to try it either, but she does wish to see whether Barusu vomits merely from smelling it.
—Everyone is conspiring against my stomach!
Roswaal touched the corpse with the tip of his shoe, somehow avoiding becoming dirty in a way Link considered illegal.
—One section can be preserved for study and another for... culinary use, if you insist. Although I recommend that Beatrice examine it for lingering curse residue before you decide to turn it into a recipe.
Link nodded.
—Agreed.
—I am glad some thread of prudence still exists within this scene.
—It is small, but it struggles.
Roswaal then looked at the wounded.
The smile remained, but his tone changed slightly.
—For now, the most important thing is returning. Subaru-kun is in dreadful condition. Ram has used more mana than is advisable. Rem needs immediate rest. And you, Link-kun, are a walking contradiction who should be unconscious for at least three different reasons.
—Four —Subaru said.
Link looked at him.
—What's the fourth?
—Your own common sense attempting suicide.
—That died days ago.
—Fair.
Rem attempted to stand.
Her legs failed.
Link moved before Ram. He held her by the shoulders, carefully, as though all the violence in his body had vanished the instant he touched her. Rem pressed her lips together, embarrassed by the weakness.
—Rem can walk.
—Of course.
—Link does not believe Rem.
—I believe you. I also believe that if you walk now, you will fall with dignity for three steps and then without dignity on the fourth.
Subaru raised one finger.
—I'm an expert in undignified falls. I confirm they hurt more when someone predicts them.
Ram sighed.
—Rem, allow the gardener to be useful before he finds a worse way to do so.
Rem looked at her sister.
—Nee-sama...
—Do not argue. Ram is too tired to listen to someone else's stubbornness.
—That is a lie —Subaru said—. You listen to mine constantly.
—Barusu's does not count. It is ambient noise.
Link lifted Rem into his arms.
This time, not as a shield.
Not out of desperation.
He lifted her with almost reverent gentleness, one hand beneath her knees and the other against her back. Rem tensed at first, then remained still. She was too tired to protest forcefully, but not so tired that she could hide the faint blush appearing beneath the dirt on her cheeks.
—Link is injured too —she said.
—And regenerating.
—Link used too much mana.
—And I have future soup.
—That is not a medical solution.
—In my defense, I never claimed to be a doctor.
Subaru murmured:
—The worst part is that he sounds proud.
Roswaal raised his hand, and a magic circle formed beneath several of the hornless Wolgarms. He did not burn them. He surrounded them with a ring of reddish light that forced them to remain still. The creatures whimpered, subdued by pressure far greater than the broken will binding them to Link.
—We will keep them contained until their use has been determined —Roswaal said—. They will not enter the village. Nor the main mansion without preparation.
—Thank you —Link said.
—Do not thank me yet. If any one of them attempts to bite a single person, I will reduce them to ash before you finish giving an order.
—That's fair.
—And if you lose control near them...
Roswaal left the sentence unfinished.
Link understood.
Subaru did as well.
Rem looked at him from within his arms.
Link did not look away from Roswaal.
—Then they will stop me.
—Who?
Link lowered his eyes toward Rem for one second.
—Whoever has to.
Rem weakly tightened her grip on the fabric of his shirt.
She said nothing.
Roswaal observed the gesture.
His smile did not change, but something behind his eyes shifted like a piece moving across a board.
—Very well. Let us walk.
The return was strange.
Not triumphant.
Not exactly tragic.
Something in between, twisted and exhausted.
Roswaal walked in front as though strolling through a forest filled with corpses were a mildly inconvenient but manageable activity. Ram walked to one side, using Subaru's shoulder more as emotional support for him than physical support for herself, although neither would admit it. Subaru walked with the expression of someone trying to keep his body together through pure stubbornness. Link carried Rem in his arms, covered in blood, torn bandages, and blue ash, with Luci floating near his shoulder like a small lantern. Behind them, under Roswaal's magical control, the hornless Mabeasts followed from a distance, surrounded by a ring of mana that kept them docile.
No one spoke for quite some time.
Until Subaru, naturally, could no longer endure it.
—So... are we going to pretend that we are not returning with domesticated demon dogs, a corpse for soup, and a noble clown who arrived in secret-boss mode?
Roswaal looked back.
—I would prefer "Margrave," not clown.
—That was the only thing he corrected.
Ram closed her eye.
—Barusu, breathe and walk.
—I find it difficult to do both without complaining.
—Make a historic effort.
Rem spoke very quietly from Link's arms.
—Subaru.
He turned immediately.
—Yes?
She looked at him with exhaustion and guilt.
—Rem... is sorry. For everything.
Subaru opened his mouth.
He closed it.
He looked at Link.
Link returned the gaze. There was no jealousy there. Not at that moment. Only exhaustion and a silent request not to make her bleed any further inside.
Subaru breathed.
—I feel many things too. But right now, I'm far too alive to organize my complaints.
Rem blinked.
Subaru smiled slightly.
—That means you can apologize later, when neither of us looks like a background character who survived a final battle.
—Subaru speaks strangely even while injured —Rem said.
—That means I'm recovering.
Ram intervened.
—A regrettable sign of health.
Rem lowered her gaze.
But this time, the guilt did not pull her completely under.
Link felt the weight of her body shift slightly in his arms, not physically lighter, but less rigid. That was enough.
As they approached the edge of the forest, the village lights appeared between the trees. People had gathered. Some villagers waited with fear, others with blankets, and others with faces that lit up when they saw them returning. Subaru tensed at the gratitude that was coming. Ram prepared to order them to keep their distance. Roswaal calmly raised one hand and stepped ahead of everyone.
—Please maintain some space. The wounded require rest, and the area is not yet entirely secure.
Noble authority succeeded where emotion would have failed.
The villagers stopped.
Some cried upon seeing Rem alive. Others upon seeing Subaru. One woman fell to her knees, offering thanks. Subaru weakly raised one hand, incapable of receiving that without breaking.
Link did not look at the crowd.
He looked at Rem.
Her eyes were half closed with exhaustion.
—Link.
—Yes.
—Rem is heavy.
—Yes.
—Link should put Rem down.
—No.
She looked at him.
—No?
—Not yet.
Rem did not protest.
She merely closed her eyes for an instant.
—Then... only a little longer.
Link carefully adjusted his hold.
—As long as you need.
Hearing that, Subaru looked away with a small, broken, but genuine smile.
Ram noticed.
—Barusu has an unpleasant expression.
—I'm processing a beautiful scene. Let me live.
—Live silently.
—I'll try.
Roswaal stopped near the center of the village and calmly issued orders. The hornless Wolgarms would be taken to a containment area far from the houses and watched until further notice. The boss's corpse would be preserved for curse examination, analysis, and, for some reason Roswaal accepted with an overly entertained smile, possible culinary use. Beatrice needed to examine Subaru and Link again. Puck would be informed. Emilia, waiting at the mansion, was probably going to scold all of them with devastating sweetness.
Subaru placed one hand against his chest.
—Oh, no. Emilia.
Ram nodded.
—Barusu finally remembers the true danger.
—Her polite disappointment hurts more than the bites.
Link looked in the direction of the mansion, invisible from there but present along the road.
—We're going to die.
Rem barely opened her eyes.
—Link should not joke about that.
He looked at her.
—You're right.
The answer was immediate.
Rem seemed surprised.
Subaru did as well.
Ram murmured:
—A miracle. Tragedy has produced learning.
Link did not argue.
There were still too many things he did not understand. Rem's guilt. Ram's unusual calm. Roswaal's smile. What it meant to tame Mabeasts by breaking their horns. What it meant to ask to keep them. What it meant to want to eat the dead boss not as a culinary whim, but because his body had learned that the flesh of those creatures could keep him standing.
He had no answers.
He only had Rem alive in his arms.
For now, that was enough.
As the villagers opened a path and the morning finished illuminating Earlham, Link lowered his gaze toward her. Rem was exhausted, stained, injured, her eyes closed and her fingers still gripping his clothing as though she feared waking somewhere else. She no longer had a visible horn. She was no longer out of control. She was no longer alone in the forest.
He walked.
Not as a hero.
Not as a monster.
As someone who, for one more night, had managed to bring back what the world had tried to take from him.
Behind them, the Boss Wolgarm's corpse was covered with an improvised tarp.
Subaru glanced at it and shuddered.
—We're really going to make soup out of that...
Ram answered without emotion.
—Barusu can refuse to eat it.
—Obviously I'm going to refuse!
Roswaal smiled.
—What a shame. It may be nutritious.
Subaru looked at Link.
—Brother, please tell me this won't become another culinary revolution.
Carrying Rem, Link thought about lomo saltado, tacos, quesillo, Mabeast soup inspected by Beatrice, and Subaru's horrified face staring at a steaming bowl.
For the first time since leaving the forest, a tired smile appeared on his lips.
—I promise nothing.
With her eyes still closed, Rem murmured:
—Rem does not wish to try it either.
Subaru raised both hands toward the sky.
—Thank you! Blue sanity lives!
Ram sighed.
Roswaal laughed softly.
Luci glowed.
And above everything, beneath the exhaustion, the blood, the curses, and the questions that would come afterward, the village welcomed the survivors beneath a morning light far too clean for the night they had just left behind.
But clean nonetheless.
And in that world, that alone was already a victory.