Anastasia could only blink, stunned by Crimson's cold, cutting words.
"What's the purpose of all this?" she asked, her voice strained. "Why flaunt your intelligence like this? What are you trying to gain?"
Crimson let out a dry cough, pressing a hand to his mouth. He subtly pulled it away and glanced at it, but quickly hid whatever he saw.
"Didn't I already answer that?" he replied, his voice steady but laced with contempt. "I want you to resent me. I want you to despise me."
He took a step forward, eyes gleaming under his blindfold.
"After all… the thing that hurts the most is the truth. Lies can be ignored, cushioned by self-righteousness. But the truth? Real truth cuts deep, especially when it's about your greatest weaknesses, your insecurities. That's what people hate more than anything: facts don't care about feelings."
Crusch furrowed her brow, her confusion clear.
"You're telling the truth right now," she said slowly, eyes narrowing.
"But why? Why would you want us to hate you? Why expose all of this? And how do you know these things?"
Crimson turned to her, letting out a short, amused breath.
"Ah… I see."
At that moment, everyone in the room went silent. There was something deeply unsettling, almost ironic, about a blindfolded man using the I see analogy.
"You're trying to use your Divine Protection to read me."
His smile widened just slightly.
"Too predictable."
Crusch's expression soured.
"So why don't you try it, then?" Crimson said, his tone sharp. "I'll make a statement, and you tell me if it's true or false."
"I'm not going to play games with you."
"Oh, is that so?" he chuckled, ignoring her refusal. "Let's begin."
He raised a finger.
"First statement: I am over 80 years old."
"What?" Crusch blinked, caught off guard.
"Well?" he pressed. "Is it true or a lie?"
She focused, her Divine Protection attempting to grasp the truth hidden beneath his words.
"It's… it's… it's true."
"Great," he replied with mock cheer. "Next one: I am under 18 years old."
Crusch's eyes widened. "How are you doing this…?"
"Figure it out. You're the one with the Divine Protection."
His expression was taunting now. "So… did I tell the truth?"
Crusch hesitated. "Y-Yes."
"Next," Crimson continued, his tone steady but his pace quickening, "I have a wife and two children."
Crusch narrowed her eyes. "Are you hypnotizing yourself into believing your own words?"
Crimson didn't answer her directly.
"I am single. I've never been in a relationship."
"I have been king. I've had my own harem. I created a criminal organization that conquered all four great countries."
"I've killed millions."
He slowly raised his hand and gestured to the four women.
"I killed all of you."
"I slept with all of you."
"I loved all of you."
"I hated all of you."
The speed of his voice accelerated.
"I've been betrayed. Burned. Stabbed. Drowned. Choked. Eaten alive. Suffocated. Slashed. Exploded. Frozen. Poisoned. Smashed."
Each word shot out faster and faster, like his soul was trying to vomit centuries of torment in a single breath. To the unknowing crowd, it sounded like the ramblings of a lunatic or perhaps some deeply layered metaphor—an intellectual joke only he understood.
But to Subaru, Roswaal, and Al, it wasn't a joke at all.
Roswaal's lips curled into a twisted grin.
"Ah… so you are my master's pawn after all," he murmured under his breath, delight flickering in his eyes.
Al, moving beside his princess, felt his hatred waver ever so slightly, the edges fraying as realization crept in. A piece of a larger puzzle was sliding into place. If killing this man wasn't possible, maybe sealing him was. Since the candidate before him had an authority, he would already meet the requirements for using the special spell, to be sealed.
Subaru's heart sank. What had only been suspicion now felt like confirmation. This boy… or perhaps this old man, he was a regressor, cursed just like Subaru.
And honestly, Subaru couldn't blame him.
If everything he said was true, then compared to Subaru's own suffering, his life sounded like hell, an endless nightmare. Who wouldn't go mad after enduring that? Living for so long, dying so many times… Still to kill millions of lives. Or was that throughout his regressions?
It reminded Subaru of the tragic regressor light novels from his old world. Or maybe…
Berserk, if Guts had finally given up his humanity.
Then, a chilling thought stabbed deep into Subaru's gut.
What if he eventually died of old age?
Would he… reset to the appa stand?
Would he start all over again… from the very beginning?
What would he even do?
And another, more dangerous idea began to bloom:
Did that mean Toyota… also had a time-related ability?
Was he regressing too?
It would explain so much.
Beatrice, sensing Subaru's shift, stepped a little closer.
"Subaru, you seem to have had some revelation from… that person's words. Can you explain it to Betty, I suppose?"
Subaru didn't answer right away. He just stared at Crimson's distant, increasingly pale face. Then, quietly, voice worn thin, Crimson asked:
"…Tell me. Was any of that… a lie?"
Crusch looked between them, her gaze exasperated, yet strangely thoughtful. After a moment of silence, she sighed.
"You made your point. My Divine Protection doesn't work on you."
Crimson's eyes turned toward her, less agitated now. He inhaled deeply, as if grounding himself or suppressing something that threatened to break through.
Crusch studied him more intently.
This strange boy had been like a male version of Priscilla at first, arrogant, theatrical, commanding. But with each word he spoke, a deeper intellect had begun to show.
And beneath that intellect… madness.
Still, the madness didn't seem baseless.
What was that saying again?
The difference between genius and madness is measured by the level of success.
So… what is his goal? Her thoughts were racing. Why does he want to be hated?
She smirked inwardly.
Guess I'll play along.
With a deliberate gesture, she brushed her long dark green hair out from beneath her sharp, military-style hat. Her stance was composed, but her voice trembled, a carefully crafted performance.
"So you're going to tell me about my past and my personality?" she asked, voice wavering just enough to sound nervous. "Making a show in front of everyone?"
Crimson's gaze didn't waver.
"Sure, why not?" he replied flatly.
"Daughter of the former duke. Raised in high society. Trained in swordsmanship to an elite level. Eventually awarded the title 'Valkyrie.' Quite an accomplished noblewoman."
He paused, just a breath, and then:
"However, your new ideology, the one you cling to so tightly after your friend's death, is moronic."
Crusch's heart skipped a beat, but her expression didn't shift. She didn't even try to argue the details.
No need to.
After witnessing what he did to the others, Anastasia, Priscilla, it was clear: he wasn't guessing. He knew things. Private things. As though he had lived their lives himself.
She couldn't afford to get flustered. Not like the others.
Still, when he brought up that person, her friend, Fourier Lugunica, she flinched. A sharp reaction, the kind that betrayed more than she wanted.
And, just like the others before her, she asked the question she had heard previously. She wasn't expecting an answer.
"How do you know about that?"
Felix, who had been quiet until now, instantly stepped forward. Sensing his master's distress, his hostility toward the boy flared to the surface. Fourier was his friend, too.
Crusch, despite everything, maintained her inner calm. People often underestimated her outside of combat. But her political knowledge, drilled into her as the heir to the Carsten Duchy, was learned through experience. She knew when to act. She knew how to read a battlefield, even a verbal one.
Crimson didn't seem impressed by her Question.
His voice, when he spoke again, was flat.
"Wow. Just like the others. You're being… repetitive."
His face showed not cruelty, but…
Weariness.
He looked tired.
"That's right," Crimson said coolly. "You believe the kingdom is too reliant on the Divine Dragon. So, you want to strengthen the nation, be chosen by the dragon, just to get rid of the dragon."
He began pacing slowly around Crusch.
"While that's partially true… the kingdom already barely relies on Volcanica. And that's only for external threats."
His voice darkened.
"You're letting your personal emotions dictate your politics."
Crusch's eyes narrowed, but he didn't stop.
"You're angry because the death of your friend was brushed off too quickly."
He leaned forward slightly, his smile growing bitter.
"The one who harbored romantic feelings for you… While you were entirely unaware. He died in your arms, didn't he?"
SLAP!
Crusch blinked, her gloved hand extended, unaware of what she had done, yet a pink handprint on Crimson's face showed the proof. Out of emotion, she had slapped him, yet he was unfazed as if it had never happened.
His tone shifted to mocking, laced with cruelty.
"Your whole reason for dissolving the contract wasn't because of the kingdom's dependence on the dragon,
It was because you were frustrated. Powerless. Angry. That his death was treated like a footnote."
"Don't insult my friend like that, you bastard!"
Felix surged forward, his voice cracking with fury.
But before he could reach Crimson, Reinhard moved in a blur, catching him effortlessly with one arm, holding him back by the collar of his knight's robe.
"We are not to interfere." Reinhard stated solemnly.
Felix glared, his eyes blazing with hatred.
Crusch's face darkened, her composed mask trembling, but not breaking.
Crimson watched her carefully as he circled around her like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Out of all the candidates," he said softly, "you have the best personality to rule."
He stopped, expression unreadable.
"But your purpose… your motivation… that's what holds you back. I remember what you said, Rei. What makes a good ruler is drive."
Reinhard looked uncomfortable, her expression hard to read, but she subtly nodded.
Crusch, her face angled downward, remained silent. Her expression was hidden, but the weight in her posture spoke volumes.
Crimson stepped forward.
"It's time I tell all of you what I will do when I become the new ruler."
A scoff came from somewhere in the room. A mage muttered, "Well, that's quite audacious."
Crimson turned his eyes toward the speaker, unfazed.
"Would I be a good ruler if I were more humble and said if? Or confident and said will? There's nothing audacious about my words. This gathering is held to look official… but in the end, it's not you who chooses the ruler."
He sneered, eyes locked on the group of wisemen.
"It's the dragon. Not this political circus."
He took a step forward, voice growing louder with each word.
"Unlike you bumbling idiots, I don't want to maintain the status quo. I'll make this kingdom better. Did you know that over one-third of this country is homeless and jobless? Entire districts are nothing but slums."
His voice now thundered in the hall.
"While you sit here drinking fine wine and arguing about tradition, people freeze in the streets, starve, or are killed by roaming Mabeasts."
He let the words hang, his tone becoming more venomous.
"And the Witch Cult? They burn villages, raid territories, kidnap, murder, torture, and do whatever they please. And what do you do?"
He swept his hand across the room.
"You show up late, offer no reparations, and then still expect taxes from the victims. Taxes that go to line the pockets of the rich, people like you. Seriously 70% no wonder this country is screwed."
The room had fallen quiet from shock. Crimson turned his attention toward the knights lining the walls and grinned broadly.
"And you lot, what do you actually do? Besides, dress up and stand around looking pretty?"
A knight stepped forward, incensed.
"How dare you. We protect the kingdom!"
Crimson's voice cut through the growing outrage.
"Really? Do you train? Do you fight? Or do you just pose with swords and puff your chests out while the country burns around you?"
A chorus of shouts and furious objections exploded from the knights. The hall filled with righteous indignation.
Marcos listened in silence.
Julius gritted his teeth.
If insulting his lady wasn't bad enough, now Crimson was targeting the knights' very insecurities, right in front of the wisemen, the royal candidates, and the entire room. It was a direct humiliation. At this rate, everyone would despise Crimson.
What could he possibly be thinking?
If he weren't a candidate, he would have challenged him to a duel right there and then.
And then… Crimson began to stagger slightly. His balance wavered, but his voice remained steady, cold as ever.
"Also… there's a law I want to ask about."
He took in a slow, heavy breath.
"Phew… you buttery smooth brains," he muttered under his breath with an exhausted scoff, "tell me something, why is the Reinhard Law in place?"
At this, Reinhard froze.
For a second, the hall itself felt like it had stopped breathing.
Reinhard turned her head toward Crimson, slowly, her expression no longer unreadable, but flooded with emotion. Her wide eyes shimmered with growing tears, the kind that came not from sadness.
As if Crimson had just torn open a wound, she didn't want him to see.
(AN: This is taking a while to get through. We have to discuss the Reinhard law, insult Emilia and Subaru, and then we duel. I hate how in this scene there are too many characters. I keep forgetting who is there. I feel it's too bland without getting the reactions from characters, but I have a lot to move forward to. Thank you for the PS, we got 162, let's keep up the momentum next week as well, or am I too greedy?
I've set an official release schedule: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Although when I get bored, I add extra.
Bonus chapters will drop on Saturdays if my demands are met. 🔫
Trade deal:
You give me 150 power stones, and I give you a bonus chapter.
Sounds fair, right?)