I stared down at the holographic projection, a swirling mass of blue and green that represented the world of Re:Zero. It was…
weird. The planet itself was flat, a disc surrounded by an endless waterfall that cascaded into a void of nothingness. The laws of physics, as I understood them, simply didn't apply.
"Fucking stupid waterfall flat-world physics are goddamn impossible," I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.
Yanking this world into our cluster, even with my powers, would be a disaster. The delicate balance of its reality, its bizarre, nonsensical existence, would shatter. But I couldn't just leave it be. Not this time.
I'd seen this world before. Not firsthand, of course, but through the pages of the light novels. Natsuki Subaru, the hapless protagonist, trapped in a cycle of death and despair, his every attempt to save those he cared about met with tragedy and heartbreak.
And Rem… poor Rem. Her fate, a cruel twist of fate orchestrated by a gluttonous, insatiable archbishop, was a wound that never truly healed.
I knew Subaru's story. I knew his pain. And I knew, with a certainty that transcended my usual cynicism, that he was a hero. A true hero, despite his flaws, his insecurities, his moments of crippling self-doubt.
And I was going to help him. Not just because it was the right thing to do, but because it would spite that #!*PPFFBTT* asshole. That incompetent, karmically-challenged excuse for a *(&(&^* who had ripped off Subaru's story with his own brand of accidental villainy.
"!#*!," I said, turning to my daughter, my voice taking on a softer tone. "Do me a favor and fuel this bit of ######## for me?"
"Come on! Wake up! Rem, it's me!"
The young man, his voice raw with desperation, shook the still form of the blue-haired maid. Her face, pale and lifeless, was etched with a serene beauty that was both captivating and heartbreaking.
I watched the scene unfold, my heart heavy with pity. Even though I had no memory of this "Rem," even though her name meant nothing to me, I could feel the young man's pain, the raw, unfiltered grief that emanated from him like a physical force.
Were they lovers? Best friends? The thought flitted through my mind, but it was quickly dismissed. It didn't matter to anyone here anymore. Not to anyone else in this shattered battlefield claimed by death, the forgotten, the erased, and moonlight. The world had forgotten her. But he hadn't.
He turned towards me, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. "Heal her!" he demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "You have to heal her!"
I shook my head sadly, my gaze falling upon the maid's still form. There was nothing I could do. Her wounds, invisible to the naked eye, were far beyond the reach of my healing magic. Her soul, her very essence, had been devoured, leaving behind an empty shell.
He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. The world had conspired to erase her from existence, to rob him of his memories, his love, his grief. But he clung to those fading fragments, his heart a shattered mirror reflecting a love that no one else could see.
I admired a will like that.
But it was tragic.
He slumped to the ground, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The despair in his eyes, the utter hopelessness, was a sight that made my own heart ache. I was a healer, a man sworn to alleviate suffering, but in the face of such profound loss, I felt powerless.
He was another soul I couldn't save. Another tragedy I couldn't prevent.
I turned and walked away, leaving him alone with his grief, his memories, his impossible love. As I saw and Ignored him reaching for a blade, I knew he was beyond my reach. Beyond anyone's reach.
I kept walking.
This was one of the many things I had seen and will see.
After today, like every day, my tear ducts were dry from already crying.
I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest, my lungs burning as if I'd just run a marathon. The carriage lurched, its wheels bumping over the uneven road, the rhythmic swaying a jarring contrast to the chaotic storm raging within me.
My new save point. The carriage.
After the mansion.
After…
My eyes darted around frantically, searching for her. For Rem. For the one person who…
"Emilia," I said, my voice a strangled whisper, "you need to tell me. Do you know where Rem is?"
Emilia, her beautiful amethyst eyes filled with concern, frowned. "Subaru," she said, her voice soft and gentle, "who is Rem?"
A wave of despair, so intense it threatened to drown me, crashed over me. I knew the answer. I'd lived it. But I needed to hear it. I needed…
My hand instinctively reached into my pocket, grasping at something solid, something real. A book. I didn't think I had fallen to the point that I would get a damn gospel! I would throw it away-
A book bound in ancient brown leather, its cover embossed with a title that sent a shiver down my spine.
"The Sword God Emperor."
A strange calm settled over me as I held the book, a feeling of certainty that defied the despair gnawing at my heart. This book, this
Sword God Emperor, held an answer. A way forward. A chance…
I opened the book, and the world
snapped. Time froze, the carriage halting mid-motion, the very air around us solidifying into a silent stillness that I couldn't describe fully. Emilia, her concerned expression frozen on her face, stared at me with wide unblinking eyes. Even the earth dragons' breath that had been misting the chilly air had stilled. We were caught in this timeless stasis.
The world turned into a monochrome landscape of black and white, as words, not written on the page, but etched into the very fabric of reality, filled my vision.
"All know that in order to start from zero in a blacksmith's forge, if you are to make an order for a sword to be used in battle, you must first take the step. The first step. If you turn this page, know that you are giving up everything and returning to your first day of life in our wonderful waterfall world. I know a few of you slip through the cracks and fall into this world from beyond the waterfall, here with no benefits or chance of survival. I will even give you a bonus of three years if so, your life will turn back time to arrive in this world before you did last time. I will train you. You will be the next Sword God. Every time you sleep, you will train to save those you truly lost."
My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding against my ribs. Give up everything? Return to the beginning? But… Rem…
My fingers trembled as they hovered over the page. Could I do this? Could I sacrifice everything, for a chance to save her?
I turned the page.
The words vanished, but a new voice, a voice that boomed with an ancient power, filled the frozen air.
"Before the Witches, before Volcanica, the dragons hadn't blessed a soul yet, but even then, the conflict stood. There was the Sword God Emperor, the Rapier God Empress, there was his daughter, the Analytical God Princess."
The world shook, the carriage swaying precariously as the voice grew louder, its power resonating through my very being.
"ALL FELL BEFORE THE PRIME GLUTTONY. ALL WILL FALL AGAIN BEFORE THE PRIME GLUTTONY. ALL WILL FORGET UNLESS YOU SAVE THE WORLD IN 100 YEARS FROM THE PRIME GLUTTONY. THE WITCHES ARE NO TRUE THREAT, BUT I WILL TRAIN YOU TO FIGHT THEM REGARDLESS. UNTIL EVIL WILL NOT STAND IN YOUR PRESENCE, YOU WILL START FROM ZERO AND STEP FORWARD TO ONE. THROUGH YOU, MY SUCCESSOR, THEY WILL FINALLY REMEMBER US!"
A blinding flash of light. A disorienting sensation of movement, of time twisting and folding upon itself. And then…
I stood upon a floor of shimmering glass, a vast expanse of darkness stretching out before me. I took a step forward, and the darkness fluttered away, revealing a scene that sent a shiver down my spine.
A mural, etched into the glass beneath my feet, glowed with an eerie light. Three circles, each one containing a figure I recognized. Emilia, her hands clasped in prayer, her head bowed, her eyes closed, occupied the top circle. Below her, to the left, lay Rem, her form peaceful, as if asleep. And in the third circle, a grotesque, shadowy figure, a man with a twisted, hungry expression, reached towards them both.
"Only you can reach towards strength," a voice echoed, soft and distant.
"You alone can save the world from the Prime Gluttony," another voice whispered.
I stared at the mural, my heart a lead weight in my chest. The weight of responsibility, the burden of a destiny I hadn't asked for, settled upon me. But beneath the fear, beneath the despair, a spark of determination flickered to life.
I would start from zero. And I would step forward. For Emilia. For Rem. For the world. For the memory of those who had fallen.
But they wouldn't fall this time.
Because I would become the Sword God.
Ignoring the freaky picture under my feet – Emilia, Rem, and some creepy shadow guy – I took another step forward, my heart heavy with a familiar ache. A mirror, appearing out of thin air like some kind of magic trick, shimmered before me. My eyes, tired from too many sleepless nights and too many deaths, met their own reflection. I looked like hell.
A voice, echoing all around me, but not from any specific source, said, "Just like I promised, I'm turning back the clock. Open the door, and we'll finally meet face-to-face."
A weird tingling sensation spread through my body, and my vision went blurry for a second. When it cleared, I realized I was shrinking. My lanky, eighteen-year-old body was becoming the smaller, more compact frame I had at fifteen. Back then, I was actually a bit more muscular, thanks to all the training I did. But being shorter again… that was a serious bummer.
And then it hit me – I wasn't really a "man" anymore. Just a kid again. My thoughts about Emilia, about Rem, about maybe having a future with one of them… it all felt silly and childish now. But even so, a tiny spark of hope remained, buried deep down. I knew I loved Emilia, but if there was a chance to save Rem too… I couldn't just abandon her.
I pushed those thoughts away for now. Romance could wait. Right now, I had to focus on getting stronger, on becoming the hero they needed me to be.
I noticed the mirror now had a doorknob, a plain brass thing that looked out of place on its smooth surface. Taking a deep breath, I reached out and turned it.
The mirror rippled like water, then swung open, revealing a dimly lit room. A figure hung from the ceiling, shrouded in shadows. As my eyes adjusted, I saw it was a man, maybe in his mid-twenties, but with an aura of ancient power that made him seem much older. He was covered in these creepy black chains, from his neck to his toes, like he was some kind of prisoner.
"Hey there, successor," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper that echoed through the room.
Despite the casual greeting, a shiver went down my spine. This was the Sword God Emperor, the guy who was supposed to train me, to make me strong enough to save everyone. But there was something about him, something dark and unsettling, that made me uneasy. I knew this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. This was going to be a fight. But I was ready for it. For Emilia. For Rem. For everyone who had lost their memories, their lives. I would become the Sword God, no matter the cost.
"Alright! You're gonna help me become the awesome hero I'm destined to be!" I shouted, forcing a wide, goofy grin onto my face. I mean, this was basically like doing those weird morning exercises with the butt-touching grandma back in the village, right? Just gotta pretend everything's fine and dandy, even though my insides are twisting into knots.
My eyes darted to the massive scar that slashed across the chained man's face, a jagged line that ran from his nose, across his cheek, and disappeared into his ridiculously long, pitch-black hair. It was like a freaking waterfall of darkness, somehow reaching the ground even though he was hanging a hundred feet in the air. Yeah, focus on the scar, Subaru. Much less terrifying than those intense eyes that seem to see right through you.
"Because I'm the hero, after all! It's just like one of those stories where the main character gets sent back in time! It isn't just a high fantasy torture story it's a tragic hero regression! My suffering is over!" I added, trying to inject some fake enthusiasm into my voice.
The chain guy scoffed, his voice a low growl that echoed through the chamber. "Don't kid yourself. This isn't some made-up story. And even if you do have that pathetic Authority – and yes, I know all about it, and that witch, and the woman she's controlling, the one she's sealed away with – they can't see us here. No Satella, no Witch of Envy."
My fake smile faltered for a second. He knew about Return By Death? How was that even possible? This guy was way more than just some random dude hanging from the ceiling. He was something else entirely. Something ancient, something powerful, and something that definitely wasn't going to make my life any easier.
Sword God Emperor. That's what they used to call me. I watched this pathetic excuse for a hero, another unfortunate soul who'd tumbled into this forsaken world like I did. He had none of my qualities, none of the strength, the skill, the wisdom I'd accumulated over centuries. Except for one thing: an unyielding, almost infuriating willpower.
But that was all he truly needed. It had been nine hundred long years since I was sealed away, trapped by the Prime Gluttony's insidious power. This time, it wouldn't just erase the memory of me, my beloved wife, and my daughter. No, this time, it threatened to devour everything, to leave nothing but a blank slate.
And this boy, this Subaru, was the only one compatible, the only one who possessed the necessary aspects for a successor. The only one who could sever these cursed chains, because he was the only one I would allow myself to train.
My successor had to be:
- One who knows the true terror of what gluttony can do.
- One who has lost someone to gluttony and remembers who others cannot.
- One with the willpower to push through everything, no matter the cost.
- One who will throw everything away, sacrifice everything, to reverse what gluttony has done.
- And finally, one with a heart of justice, who follows through on their convictions, no matter how difficult the path.
I watched as Subaru, his face a mask of stunned confusion, tried to decipher the meaning behind my words, to grasp the implications beyond the obvious. And, predictably, he failed. He asked the wrong question, the question of a child who still clung to the naive belief that answers were readily available.
"Who are you?"
I gave him a look that could curdle milk. Was this truly the hero I was entrusting my legacy to?
"Fine. Sword God Emperor," he muttered, his voice laced with a defiant determination that surprised me. "I won't ask again. Because 'no' isn't an option." He pointed a finger at me, his eyes blazing with a newfound resolve. "Fucking train me."
A grin, so wide it felt like it might split my face, stretched across my lips. Kirin of the Edo Clan, the samurai who fell into this waterfall world eleven hundred years ago, the one who clawed his way to the top, who became the Sword God Emperor only to be forgotten – I was back.
A rapid crunching sound filled the chamber as the chains binding me reshaped, contorting and twisting under the force of my will. They crunched and folded, forming crude arm and leg plates. They still drained my power, still held me captive, but I could move now. The seal was weakening, and I could at least do that much.
"Well, successor," I said, my voice laced with a newfound energy. "I think I do like you after all."
