Otto had endured many things, but this... this was beyond anything he had imagined.
Subaru had crossed a line.
It wasn't just that he had started a war over something he had no proof of—it was how he did it. One day, without discussion, he had stormed into Vincent's chambers, screaming in rage. Emilia had tried to calm him, to get him to explain what was happening, but Subaru had only lashed out, his voice filled with raw hatred.
"I'll kill Julius with my own hands," he had spat. "And that bastard child of his."
Emilia had been horrified. "Subaru, please—"
"Did you know?!" he had demanded, his eyes wild with fury.
She had shaken her head, tears already forming. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar," he had snarled. "You have to lie. You planned this whole trip."
Then he had turned on Otto. On Garfiel. On Emilia. Even on little Meili.
"Shut up," he had snapped at her. "I don't have time for you."
Beatrice, too, had received his fury.
"I gave my life for all of you," he had screamed. "For this shitty kingdom. And this is how you repay me?!"
Otto had never seen him like that before. Subaru had raged, reminiscing about the past—about how Julius had once humiliated him before the knights, only to later pretend to be his friend. And then, when Subaru had finally accepted that friendship, Julius had done the unforgivable.
"He raped the only woman who ever loved me," Subaru had spat, shaking with fury. "And now that piece of shit has made her pregnant. My Rem."
He had cried then, but not out of sorrow—out of rage. A rage so deep Otto had barely recognized him.
Now, walking the corridors of the war room, Otto thought back to that moment.
What had even caused Subaru's outburst? A letter? Some message that never arrived? It had been nothing, really. Nothing... and yet, everything.
Otto had respected Subaru. Had seen him as a friend. But now? Now Subaru wouldn't even listen to him.
The worst part? Subaru was listening—to that idiot Flop, the Empire's self-proclaimed merchant of wisdom.
Meanwhile, Emilia was in her room, crying.
She had lost everything.
Because of Subaru, she had been disqualified from the Royal Selection. He had dismissed her pleas, telling her outright that he had no time to deal with her "grumbling." But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was hearing him say it.
That Rem was the only woman who ever meant anything to him.
That Emilia had been a burden from the very beginning.
That he had worked his ass off for her, and the only thing she had ever been allowed to do was hold his hand.
And when she had tried to argue, to fight for herself, Subaru had silenced her with a single, cutting remark:
"You're nothing without me."
And then... there had been the final straw.
Otto hadn't witnessed it himself, but he had heard.
Subaru had tried to force himself on Emilia.
She had run from his room, sobbing, while he had screamed after her.
"Get back here! I've spent three years trying to make you mine! If it weren't for me, you'd be dead—you can't do shit without me!"
She hadn't come back.
And Subaru... hadn't apologized.
Instead, he had buried himself in war plans, spending every waking moment in the war room.
Otto reached the door and hesitated. He should have talked to Subaru sooner. He should have stopped this before it spiraled into all-out war.
But it was too late now.
Subaru's rage had ignited a conflict that had already claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands. Not just soldiers—innocent people in both Lugunica and the Empire. But Subaru didn't care.
To him, they weren't people.
They were just assets for his revenge.
Otto reached for the door.
Before he could open it, Flop stepped out.
Their eyes met.
And Otto saw the truth.
There was no saving Subaru.
Flop looked Otto directly in the eyes, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something firm, almost defiant.
"Don't bother," he said simply. "Subaru doesn't want to see you."
Otto clenched his fists. His patience had long run out with this man.
Flop had been whispering in Subaru's ear for weeks, feeding his anger, justifying everything he did. He had told Subaru, over and over, that Rem was his wife, that this war was righteous, that Lugunica deserved to be crushed, and that the kingdom should just surrender.
He had encouraged the full-scale invasion.
And when it had failed—when Reinhard had shattered the Empire's offensive in a single decisive battle—Subaru had exploded with rage, screaming at the very world itself.
"Why here?! WHY HERE?!"
Otto had been there. He had seen it.
Subaru had lost himself, ordering an immediate retreat to the border.
The Empire was lucky—so lucky—that Kararagi had reacted before the invasion, negotiating a deal with Lugunica to keep Reinhard out of the war. If he had moved, this would've been over in a day.
And now, standing in front of this man, Otto had never wanted to punch someone more in his entire life.
But it would only cause problems.
He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice level. "Move aside."
Flop didn't budge. "Why?"
"I need to talk to Subaru."
"About what?" Flop asked, tilting his head. "He's in the right, you know. After everything the people of Lugunica did to him? You expect him to just forgive and forget?"
"Move," Otto repeated, his voice sharp.
Flop shook his head. "He told me not to let you through."
Otto's hands twitched.
"He and Beatrice are busy," Flop continued. "They're working on a new attack strategy."
Otto felt something cold settle in his stomach.
So that was it.
Subaru wasn't stopping.
He was already planning the next assault.
The capital of Lugunica was peaceful, untouched by the war raging at its borders. People moved through the streets, merchants called out their wares, and children played as if nothing had changed.
Plum, a young girl no older than six, giggled as she played with a ball near her father's fruit stand. Kodoment, her father, kept a watchful eye on her while tending to his customers.
Then, a strange sound.
A soft thud—like something falling from the sky.
Curious, Plum turned toward the noise. Just beyond the stand, lying on the cobblestone street, was a small rabbit with a single horn. It twitched, its tiny legs struggling to move.
Plum took a cautious step closer. "Mister Rabbit?" she murmured.
Before she could reach it, her father's hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her back. "Plum, stay close," Kodoment said firmly. "You can't just run off like that."
"But, Papa!" Plum protested. "Mister Rabbit fell from the sky!"
Kodoment barely glanced at the creature. "Leave it be. Someone might try to steal from the stand if I step away."
"But look!" Plum pointed excitedly.
The rabbit shuddered.
And then—it split.
With a grotesque squelch, the creature's body stretched and tore into two identical rabbits.
Plum gasped in delight. "See? He made a friend!"
The two rabbits turned toward her.
Then they leaped.
Pain erupted across Plum's face as the first rabbit latched onto her cheek, biting deep into her skin. She screamed. The second rabbit clawed its way up her stomach, sharp teeth tearing into her soft flesh.
Kodoment reacted on instinct.
He sprinted, moving faster than he ever had in his life. His hand shot out, grabbing one of the rabbits and hurling it as far as he could. The second he ripped from Plum's stomach, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it with all his strength.
Plum sobbed, clutching her bleeding face.
Kodoment didn't hesitate. He scooped her into his arms and ran.
Around him, people had started to take notice. The occasional rabbit had begun to drop from the sky, landing with soft thuds across the marketplace. A few curious onlookers approached them, laughing at the strange phenomenon. Some bent down, reaching out to touch the small creatures. Others simply watched, murmuring among themselves.
Kodoment didn't stay to see what happened next.
He tightened his hold on Plum, cradling her bleeding form against his chest, and ran.
The first scream rang out.
Then another.
Kodoment ran faster. His only thought was getting to his wife—she would know what to do. Then they would go straight to the city guard, find shelter, hide.
He had no idea what was happening, but his instincts screamed at him.
The great disaster struck the capital of Lugunica without warning, a nightmare unfolding in the broad light of day.
At first, it was nothing more than an oddity—small creatures falling from the sky, landing with soft thuds onto rooftops, streets, and marketplaces. Rabbits. Tiny, white-furred, unassuming. They twitched and wobbled on the cobblestone roads, dazed from their sudden descent, their little noses twitching as they adjusted to their new surroundings.
People gathered in curiosity, watching them hop about. A few children laughed, thinking the sight amusing. Others, more cautious, hesitated, sensing something was wrong.
That was when the true horror began.
All across the capital, the same thing was happening. People, confused at first, tried to fend off the rabbits attacking them. Some grabbed knives, others stomped on them. Each time one of the creatures died, two more took its place.
The streets became a war zone.
The city guards rushed in, blades drawn. They fought as best they could, but their weapons were useless. Slashes, thrusts, even decapitation—it didn't matter. The rabbits multiplied faster than they could be killed. Some of the knights realized too late and found themselves overwhelmed, the creatures swarming over them in a wave of fur and fangs.
People ran. Screams filled the air as men, women, and children tried to escape. Some fled into their homes, barricading doors and windows. Others climbed onto rooftops, desperate to find refuge above the chaos.
But the rabbits could climb too.
They scurried up walls, leaped across roofs, squeezing through the smallest cracks in doors. Nowhere was safe.
Kadoment ran, his daughter held tightly against his chest. His wife, his home—they were in the market district. He had to get to them. His mind raced. If they could just make it to the city's central barracks, maybe the knights could protect them.
Then, more screams.
A woman stumbled into the street, her arms outstretched, blood dripping from her sleeves. Her face was twisted in agony, her body riddled with deep wounds. Rabbits clung to her back, gnawing at her flesh.
She fell.
The rabbits ate.
Kadoment turned away and ran faster.
The city's defenders were losing.
Julius Euculius, the Finest of Knights, stood at the center of the chaos, his sword gleaming with magic as he cut through the creatures. But even he struggled. He fought with precision, his strikes infused with flames, one of the only things that seemed to stop the rabbits from multiplying.
But there were too many.
His knights, his soldiers—they fought desperately, but their efforts were failing. Every road was flooded with the monstrous creatures. The air stank of burning fur and blood.
Anastasia, watching from the castle, called for Halibel.
"Get Julius back here!" she ordered. "We need to regroup!"
But Julius refused.
He had seen too many people slaughtered already. He would not turn his back on them.
Halibel cursed. He could not cut these creatures—the curse on his blade would only make them grow stronger. So instead, he did the only thing he could.
He burned.
He ignited his own fur, turning himself into a living torch. His flaming fists smashed into the rabbits, reducing them to ashes before they could split. But even that wasn't enough. For every one he burned, dozens more took its place.
Julius fought alongside him, his magic weaving trails of fire through the streets. His body bore wounds from countless bites, blood soaking through his uniform. At one point, exhaustion overtook him.
He collapsed to his knees.Julius gasped for breath, his body battered and bleeding. The endless horde of rabbits had pressed him to the ground, their gnawing teeth ripping into his armor, into his flesh—.
Then—
Silence.
The creatures froze.
Julius, barely conscious, watched as the rabbits' fur turned deep purple. Their tiny bodies stiffened, crystalizing into gleaming amethyst. One by one, they cracked, then shattered into dust.
The nightmare was over.
The soldiers who had fought desperately beside him stared in disbelief, some collapsing from exhaustion, others gripping their weapons with shaking hands.
Julius forced himself up, his vision blurred. His body screamed in pain, but he ignored it. His eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for the cause of this sudden turn.
A figure stood in the distance.
"Beatrice...?" he whispered.
Then, a chilling presence filled the air. A ripple of mana so thick and oppressive that even the raging fires lining the streets seemed to dim in response.
Julius turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto a figure standing in the center of the devastated street.
A young woman, clad in a flowing black dress, her silver hair cascading down her back. Her cold, lifeless eyes surveyed the carnage before her as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience. She tilted her head slightly, observing Julius with mild curiosity before a smirk formed on her lips.
Echidna.
Or rather, the Witch of Greed.
"How interesting," Echidna mused, raising a delicate hand to her lips. "I wasn't expecting you to last this long. I suppose I should give you some credit."
Julius took a step forward, ignoring the pain that flared through his body. "You did this?" he demanded.
Echidna simply chuckled. "Oh, no. This little disaster? I was merely an observer." She raised a hand, curling her fingers slightly. "But I did grow tired of watching the endless cycle of death, so I decided to clean up the mess. You should be grateful."
Echidna smiled softly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You seem surprised. It's not my first time dealing with small, persistent problems like these."
Julius, exhausted and drained, could only sigh in relief. "But why?"
Echidna looked at him with a calm, unreadable expression. "Why? To keep things... interesting. The capital was never meant to fall, not yet. You still have more work to do."
Halibel raised an eyebrow. "More work? For what?"
Echidna's smile widened, though it was more enigmatic than kind. "Oh, don't worry about that. There's plenty to come. Just consider this... a little game."
The Great Rabbit had almost annihilated the capital, and now the Witch of Greed stood before them, acting as if this were all some kind of game.
Julius, too tired to argue, slumped to the ground. The capital was in ruins. Thousands were dead. The rabbits were gone, but the damage was done.
And even though the nightmare seemed to end.Echidna, turning away, glanced back over her shoulder with a quiet chuckle. "Now, let's see how you handle what comes next."