Disassociation was an obvious symptom.
After being trapped in alternate realities for so long, even someone like Vanitas found it hard to fully ground himself, to truly believe that this was his reality.
“Charlotte’s missing, huh?” He muttered the words absentmindedly.
It was hard.
So much so that, without realizing it, his hand had reached for the revolver.
Click—
And now, the cold barrel was pressed against his forehead.
As if, somewhere deep down, he hoped pulling the trigger would bring the loop back.
“V-Vanitas, what are you doing?!” Margaret screamed.
“Lord Astrea!” Evan cried, rushing toward him.
After pulling the revolver away from his own temple, whether by his own will or because Margaret and Evan had stopped him, Vanitas rose to his feet.
He didn’t say a word.
With heavy steps, he walked out of his room.
“Everyone might be asleep, but I don’t care. Prepare to depart.”
Evan hesitated. “But the roads are—”
“Wake the knights. We leave in an hour.”
Margaret quickly followed after him. “Vanitas, are you in any condition to travel?”
“No,” he muttered. “But I’ll be in even worse condition if I stay.”
She caught up beside him, lowering her voice. “You’re not thinking straight. You just tried to—”
“Force of habit.”
Margaret blinked. “What do you—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“….”
The silence between them stretched. Margaret looked as if she wanted to say more, but hesitated. Vanitas had an idea of what she was about to bring up.
“Two years,” he said.
“Y-Yes?”
“If your feelings remain the same in two years…” He turned to glance at her. “I’ll marry you.”
“….”
Margaret stopped walking and her eyes widened in surprise.
Then, slowly, she nodded, a soft smile blooming on her lips. She brought a hand to her chest, pressing gently against the spot where her heart refused to stop trembling.
Even if Vanitas didn’t love her now, even if his heart was unreachable, Margaret wasn’t blind to the truth.
She didn’t care whether he liked her back yet.
Because in those two years, she would give her all. She would prove herself. She would make him love her, not out of pity or obligation, but because he would come to see that her heart beat only for him.
“….”
And she would make sure his did the same.
* * *
“Calm down, man.”
“Tsk.”
In the carriage trailing behind Vanitas Astrea’s, Silas sat rigidly, tapping his foot at the floor rapidly. Ezra, seated across from him, let out a sigh as he tried to offer a semblance of calm.
“How can I calm down?! Arwen, she…” Silas clenched his fists, his voice rising.
“The butler said she was safe,” Ezra reminded him.
“So?! Arwen’s a vulnerable woman! Think about the mental toll this whole thing must’ve taken on her! And I’m… I’m scared.”
Ezra raised a brow. “Scared of what?”
Silas hesitated. “…The professor.”
“….”
A long silence followed.
Neither of them spoke.
Ever since Vanitas and the Grand Knight had returned from that rift, something had changed.
The professor seemed like an entirely different person. They had always known him as a man of grand ambitions. So driven that once he set his sights on something, he would never stop until he achieved it.
And every time, he did.
Now, however, his eyes looked eerily lifeless. As if something deep inside him had died.
And that, more than anything else, terrified them.
“We’ll find Charlotte.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not worried about h—” Silas started, but Ezra cut him off immediately.
“The fact that you’ve been avoiding mentioning her name says enough.”
“….”
Silas flinched, his mouth hanging open for a second before he looked away.”
“You like her, don’t you?” Ezra asked.
“You trying to get me killed?” Silas shot back at Ezra’s provocation, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe.”
“Sly bastard.”
His shoes resumed their anxious tapping against the wooden floor of the carriage. Outside, the wheels of the carriage rolled along the dirt path.
After a moment, Ezra spoke again.
“Charlotte’s smart, you know. If anyone could get out on her own, it’s her. But… still, we’re not leaving this to chance.”
Silas didn’t respond immediately. Then, without looking at Ezra, he muttered, “I just hope we’re not too late.”
Ezra glanced at him, and for once, didn’t crack a joke and simply nodded.
“Yeah. Me too.”
* * *
The entire mansion was in disarray.
According to Evan, one moment he had been reading a book in his room, and the next, it was already nightfall.
When he stepped outside, he discovered that everyone else had experienced the same phenomenon, as if they had all awakened at the exact same time.
Some of the house staff even claimed they had regained consciousness lying on the floor.
And yet, despite the strangeness of it all, every single account aligned perfectly.
The mansion was a complete mess the moment they awoke.
And the young lady, who had last been seen in the living room with Arwen Ainsley, had vanished without a trace.
“Hahaha…”
Vanitas merely laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Every house staff member who had gathered, every knight who had given their statements, those who had followed them from the mansion to Axenburg, even Margaret, Silas, and Ezra, each turned toward the professor.
“….”
“….”
“….”
He was laughing hysterically.
Like a man who had lost his marbles.
It didn’t take much to piece it together. From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect crime. Even the keenest minds would have struggled to find a single lead.
But to Vanitas, someone who had played this game an uncountable number of times. Even if he couldn’t fully convince himself that this world wasn’t real, even after enduring loop after loop, there were still details he could recall.
And more than anything, it only took a single search using his spectacles.
In simpler terms, Vanitas knew exactly who was behind it all just from hearing their accounts.
Conclusive evidence was another matter entirely, but right now, he wasn’t in the right state of mind for that.
“Professor, where are you going?” Silas called out as Vanitas turned to leave the mansion without a word.
“To clean up the mess I’ve made,” he replied flatly.
“You know something, don’t you? Tell us. We’ll help—”
“It’s not someone you, Ezra, or any of the knights can deal with.”
“Then what about me?” Margaret interjected, stepping forward.
Vanitas paused for a brief moment before scoffing and continuing ahead. “Suit yourself.”
Margaret hurried to his side. The two of them left the estate, disappearing down the road.
Behind, Silas clenched his fists in frustration. Arwen, standing beside him, gently placed her hand over his, soothing his rising distress.
“It’s okay, Silas. I know you want to be of use to him. But… I can sense it.”
Remarkably, Vanitas hadn’t even questioned her after the incident. Then again, that wasn’t too surprising. The professor had always been gentle when it came to Arwen.
She looked in the direction he had gone, her eyes clouded with concern.
“The professor… his mind is in turmoil. I can’t even feel any anger from him. And that’s what’s so terrifying,” Arwen whispered. “Right now, he probably doesn’t want too many people around him.”
Silas clenched his fists tighter. “Right, so we’re supposed to just wait here?!”
“No,” Arwen replied calmly. “But it’s much safer for you to stay here. Whatever the professor is planning to do… you might get caught up in it.”
Silas gritted his teeth. “I’m not that weak, Arwen.”
“You very much are so, my dear brother.”
“….”
* * *
If there was any place to go, Vanitas already had a solid idea.
“You really think it’s the church?” Margaret asked, half-surprised by their destination.
“Why are you surprised?” he replied, eyes fixed forward. “There must’ve been instances in the loops where the church was involved.”
“I know about the heretics who disguise themselves as clergymen, yes, but… how are you so sure? There wasn’t any decisive evidence left at the scene—”
“Margaret.”
She straightened. “Yes?”
“All you have to do is follow my lead. I brought you along for that purpose. You’ll do anything I say, won’t you?”
“….I am your sword.”
In truth, Vanitas had brought Margaret along for assurance purposes. She had already seen one of his biggest secrets. Whether she realized the full extent or not, she probably had an idea, yet had never dared to bring it up.
The fact that he could cast magic instantaneously.
And beyond that, Vanitas had to admit. There was no one closer to him now than Margaret Illenia.
They had lived through loops together, confined to the same small cabin. For both of them, those days were impossible to forget even if they tried.
To Margaret, it was a tragic yet heartfelt chapter of her life. But to Vanitas, it was nothing but agonizing.
If she ever turned her back on him for some stupid reason, he was certain he would kill her on the spot.
Without another word, the two stepped into the church.
As always, it was dimly lit. The air was heavy with incense, and the sound of chanting echoed in the background. Clergymen moved out and about, attending to their daily routines, dressed in subdued robes as they passed between pews and altars.
But today, something was different.
At the center of the altar stood a man clad in brilliantly white and gold robes, radiating a presence that drew all eyes toward him. Rows upon rows of people filled the pews, heads bowed in reverence.
A holy mass seemed to be in session.
Vanitas’s gaze narrowed. He recognized the man. A clergyman so vile he could put even Rodrigo Borgia to shame.
To think he would meet him here so soon.
“Cardinal Ester, huh?” Vanitas muttered under his breath.
Vanitas leaned against the stone pillars with his arms crossed, observing the ongoing mass.
But Vanitas wasn’t listening to the sermon.
He was reading between the lines.
From the gospel, the tone of mourning, and the expressions of grief, rage, and desperation among the attendees, he had already begun to piece the truth together.
Something must’ve occurred during the time he and Margaret were gone.
His eyes scanned the faces in the pews. Mothers clutching prayer beads, fathers trembling with fury, children hugging each other in silence.
Some of them even had burn marks. Others, bruises and wrapped limbs.
And then it happened.
A woman collapsed to her knees and clasped her hands tightly as she wailed.
——Ah, Father! This sinner beseeches you!
More people followed, weeping, begging for mercy, salvation, or a reason for their unfortunate circumstances.
——Please! Please, I beg of you, return our children! My daughter, my little girl, she… she didn’t deserve that!
——Justice! You speak of justice, Cardinal, but where was it two days ago?! Where was the Lord when the Empire razed our homes?!
——They called it a containment order, but it was a massacre!
——The nobility thinks we’re dirt! We’re not even people to them!
Wails echoed from all corners of the church as voices rose, cursing the nobility, damning the Emperor who had authorized the purge.
Vanitas’s eyes narrowed. Margaret stepped slightly closer to him, visibly disturbed by the crowd’s chattering.
This was no holy mass.
“What the hell did Franz do…?” Vanitas muttered under his breath.
With Vanitas’s identity, staying here would be dangerous.
The churchgoers were already on edge. One wrong move and the entire congregation could turn into a mob.
“Vanitas, I think it’s best if we—”
Tak—!
However, the click of his heel echoed louder than it should have, cutting Margaret’s words off as Vanitas walked toward the center aisle.
The further he walked, the more heads turned.
Even the Cardinal and his attending clergymen seemed stunned by his abrupt intrusion.
Vanitas stopped just before the altar. He didn’t bow, nor did he kneel.
“Ester Bartholomew.”
The Cardinal didn’t respond immediately.
A wave of mutters followed. The crowd, already simmering with hatred for the nobility, now saw one of them interrupt their sacred grief.
“Call Lance Ableton here this instant, you shitty cultist.”
The church fell into a stunned silence.
Then, gasps.
Then, murmurs of outrage.
——How dare he…?!
——Blasphemy!
——Did he just…?
Margaret stepped forward, her hand now fully gripping her sword. Not good. She hadn’t anticipated Vanitas would openly provoke the Cardinal like this.
One of the junior clergymen stepped forward, flustered. “S-sir, this is a place of worship. You are interrupting—”
Vanitas turned to face the congregation, his cold gaze sweeping across the pews.
“Worship?” he repeated. “You unfortunate lowlives have all gathered here simply to become a feast.”
Confused murmurs spread through the crowd.
“A feast,” he continued “for this disgusting heretic who preaches not to God… but to the devil in his robes.”
——….!
Gasps broke out. Some clutched their rosaries. Others looked at Vanitas with disgust like he was the actual heretic himself.
“But of course, I’m not here to convince any of you. Believe whatever you want. It makes no difference to me.”
His gaze locked onto the altar.
“Just bring me Lance Ableton.”
“Sir Vanitas Astrea.”
Vanitas turned slowly, meeting the eyes of Cardinal Ester, who now stepped down from the dais.
“Is this some kind of joke to you?” the Cardinal asked. “Is faith a game to be mocked?”
He raised his hand toward the crowd, as though inviting them to witness the supposed hypocrisy.
“You call me a preacher of devils, yet look at yourself. You barge into this house of worship, threaten with violence, and insult our beliefs. You are the embodiment of what you accuse me of.”
Vanitas didn’t flinch.
“Is that so?” he asked. “Then let’s ask the people of Vermire. The ones still burying the bodies of their children thanks to an order that passed through your church’s hands. Or the orphans from the Silverpine raid. Or the nameless thousands who vanished in the Eastern provinces under the guise of ‘conversion.'”
“….”
“Or better yet, let’s ask the chimeras. The people you turned into monsters in the name of divinity.”
“Blasphemy!” Ester shouted, voice cracking through the cathedral.
He’s naming places… events…
How does he know all this?
The Cardinal was a charismatic and cunning manipulator of the highest order.
But he had no real power when it came to strength. In his perspective, Vanitas wasn’t just throwing accusations.
He was pulling bones out of the closet.
And Ester knew it.
Even without hard evidence, Vanitas’s words were nothing but the truth. Crimes that Ester was involved in.
It terrified Ester.
Because Vanitas Astrea knew. He knew everything. His existence alone was a threat.
At that moment, from the shadows, paladins emerged. Margaret was already prepared, ready to lay down her sword for Vanitas.
However, he only looked up.
“You know,” Vanitas began, “I’ve come to understand something I was too blind to realize back then.”
He closed his eyes.
“I’ve placed too much importance on establishing my status, politically embedding myself to ensure that my voice carried real power.”
As he opened them again, wind began to coalesce around him.
“Of course, it worked. Even the High Nobles couldn’t ignore me. My words, my standing, they held sway across Aetherion.”
Whoosh—
“But what does that mean to people with real power? To those who can make an entire nation bend with just a finger?”
He smiled coldly.
“It means nothing to them. I believed foolishly that if I were someone of great importance, no one would dare target me so easily.”
The wind pressure was rising. Even Margaret found it hard to stand her ground.
“But I was naive. People with true power do not care about status.”
Vanitas turned, gaze locking onto the center of the church where a man had appeared out of nowhere.
“So, I’ve come to understand one thing.”
The wind screamed louder.
“The ones in power do not fear me. So, I just have to show them why they should.”
———!
He walked forward. The wind howled and raged in his wake. Its pressure was so overwhelming that even Cardinal Ester and everyone else present had dropped to their knees.
Only one man remained standing at the center, but even he wasn’t faring too well.
“Lance Ableton,” Vanitas said, “do you know why it was never my ambition to take your place as the Seventh Great Power?”
“…How did you know it was me?” Lance Ableton asked, trying to grin, yet his face glistened with sweat.
But Vanitas ignored the question.
“Because it simply wasn’t worth anything,” he said. “You are worth nothing. I could take your position without even trying.”
“…You’re looking for your sister, aren’t you?” Lance replied cautiously.
Vanitas’s voice dropped an octave.
“I told you once. You shouldn’t feel threatened by me. But it seems you’re still wet behind the ears.”
Lance’s body trembled under the mounting gale. “How… how are you doing this?”
But Vanitas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, lifting a single finger toward Cardinal Ester.
“W-What are you doing?!” the Cardinal shouted, still on his knees.
Crack——!
With a single drop of Vanitas’s finger, the wind compressed.
And the Cardinal was flattened. His body collapsed and his skull was crushed with a sickening sound.
A wave of fear spread through the cathedral. Even Margaret felt terrified by Vanitas.
With a calm smile, Vanitas leaned closer to the Great Power, the Scholar of Wisdom.
“Do you understand now?” he asked.
Lance’s voice cracked. “Your sister is dead, you bastard!”
———!
Just like that, the entire room turned red.
Every clergyman and paladin met the same fate as Cardinal Ester. Bones crushed, bodies flattened by a sheer pressure no ordinary spell could ever match.
“Where?” Vanitas asked.
“You’re done for! This… this could spark a Holy War!”
“Where?”
Thwack!
Vanitas raised a knee and drove it directly into Lance’s face with brutal force.
Riiing—
He couldn’t hear anything anymore. Only the deafening ringing in his ears.
Because in that single moment, upon hearing the blasphemy that Charlotte was dead, nothing else mattered.
“Where?!”