Re:Zero: The Path of Pride

Soon after being launched into the sky like some kind of human cannonball, we… glided down?

Not crashed. Not slammed. Just gracefully drifted back to earth like we'd ridden an invisible escalator. 

My boots hit the dusty stone road, and for a split second, I was genuinely tempted to drop to my knees and kiss the ground in reverence.

Thankfully, logic prevailed. Barely.

I shook out the tremble in my legs and turned my attention back to the more pressing issue, the lunatic who thought it was a great idea to start launching ice spears on a packed city street in broad daylight.

Raising my eyes, I finally got a proper look at the woman I'd only glimpsed midair. And my heart gave an involuntary jolt, not from attraction, but fear. 

Cold, crawling, primal fear. 

The kind that digs into your spine and whispers 'Run' before your brain can catch up.

But burning beneath that fear… was something else. Anger.

Because I wasn't just looking at a threat.

I was looking at her.

The Witch of Envy.

The monster from my nightmares. The puppeteer behind my suffering.

I felt my fingers twitch, reflexively forming the shape of a finger gun at my side, hidden. Mana stirred at my gate, spinning up on instinct, not command. Jiwald. It hovered in my mind like a fire alarm under glass. 

My gaze flicked sideways to Reinhard, expecting him to be mid-sprint, sword drawn, eyes blazing with holy wrath.

Instead, I saw… nothing.

No tension. No reaction. He wasn't even reaching for his sword.

'Huh?'

I looked back at her.

She stood in the middle of the road, silver hair gleaming in the sun, her breathing fast but steady. Her posture was sharp, almost poised to sprint after the kid she'd been firing at just seconds ago.

But then her eyes met mine, and Reinhard's.

Violet.

Wide.

A flicker of surprise danced across her face, followed by a flash of pure embarrassment. 

Not the abyss I'd braced for.

She just looked… human. 

Mortal.

Striking, yes. Ethereal. The kind of beauty that could make statues weep. But in the daylight?

She lacked something. Something vital.

'Where the fuck are all the shadows? Where's the death haze? The suffocating pressure? The void?'

Time hadn't stopped. The world still moved. No blood-curdling whispers filled the air, and my soul wasn't being wrung out like a wet towel. That earlier chill I'd felt? Just adrenaline from getting launched into the stratosphere and then jump-scared by what I thought was Death Incarnate.

But this?

This silver-haired imposter?

She didn't have the presence. Not even close.

'So who the hell is she?'

A twin? A clone? A cursed reflection?

Suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder. I flinched in surprise, head snapping to the side, only for me to relax as I realized it was my friend, not the Witch. 

Reinhard gave me a disarming smile, something that gradually eased the tension in my body. Logic took over. 

'If the Sword Saint of Lugunica is not aiming to chop this woman's head off. Then clearly we are uninformed on relevant matters. Put the gun away, and stop glaring a hole through her head.' 

I gave Rein a nod to say I understood, and let go of the strand of mana I had pulled and readied from my gate. It receded back through my arm before spooling back into my Gate. 

Finally, looking at the woman who apparently wasn't the Witch, I watched her quickly jog over to a small, ornate black pouch that was lying on the ground a short distance away. She bent down and quickly began scouring through it. I could hear the faint jingle of coins.

I tilted my head in confusion and followed after Rein, who had begun swiftly pacing towards the silver-haired girl. Getting closer, I could see the clear frustration, disbelief, and then sadness that washed over the girl's face. A myriad of emotions rampaged beneath the surface, and it looked like they were about to culminate in action.

Her legs tensed up and she lightly angled her body in the direction of where the girl whom I now recognized was, in all likelihood a pickpocket, had fled.

But before she could go, Reinhard spoke up. 

"Lady Emilia," Reinhard said gently, "is there anything I can assist you with? It appears you've encountered a thief. Was anything of value taken?"

Her body jolted, startled by his voice. She turned to face us, embarrassment and shame clear on her features as her amethyst eyes flicked between Reinhard and me. She had seen us approaching, but it seemed like she hadn't expected us to speak with her.

"Ah, Sir Reinhard… indeed, something was taken from me."

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her pouch. Her eyes flicked down the alley where the thief had vanished.

"I can retrieve it," she said quickly, voice thin. "It's something very important to me… but I'll handle it."

Reinhard's expression didn't change. Still calm. Still respectful. She glanced back at him, and I too looked over to Reinhard. 

"I do not doubt your ability," he said. "But I would be remiss if I stood by while a crime unfolded in front of me." 

'What?'

We had our mission: solve a time loop and find a man tied to the Witch of Envy herself.

Were we seriously going to drop that to help this Lady Emilia chase a thief?

Reinhard's sky-blue eyes met mine.

Sometimes, his expression was easy to read: pride, joy, contemplation… you could catch glimpses of what he was thinking.

But other times?

Nothing.

Just a blank mask that happened to look like his face. 

This was one of those times.

And I couldn't tell which direction he was about to choose.

He broke his gaze from mine and glanced at Emilia. There was a flash of recognition, but what it was he had recognized I didn't know. Then his gaze landed firmly on me. 

"Ethan, I know we've been looking for this person, but perhaps we could take the time to help Lady Emilia?" 

There was the faintest hint of hesitation in his tone. A war between duty and friendship. As a royal knight, he had to serve the kingdom first and himself last. 

I couldn't help it. A tiny tinge of betrayal bloomed in my chest.

We were faced with a time loop.

I was faced with a time loop. A loop created by the fucking Witch of Envy herself.

And we were going to pause to help some noble girl who got robbed? Like a thousand other people probably do every day in this city?

Sure, if I could help prevent it and it was happening right in front of my face, I would help. But the thief was long gone. We had watched as the girl literally jumped onto a rooftop and practically flew away. 

The situation made my jaw clench. 

But I crushed it. I forced those emotions back down. It wasn't fair to either Reinhard or this… Lady Emilia, for me to push my frustration onto them.

But thinking that didn't really help. 

'Put it this way. We've got no leads.' I tried to rationalize. 'In all reality? We're wandering blind.' 

'Sure, Reinhard had some ideas on where we could look, but that's no guarantee at all that we'd find anything or anyone.'

If we help this imposter and the day resets, who fucking cares?

We'll just steer clear of her next time.

But for now?

Fine.

We help.

I'd been glaring into those amethyst eyes the entire time I'd internally debated. Measuring her. Seeing if maybe she would let some veil drop, and the Witch of the void would be unleashed. 

But no. In fact, this Lady Emilia almost withered under my stare, and with that dim realization, I shifted my focus to Reinhard and finally answered.

"Sure, we can help her out."

Rein nodded before turning back to Emilia. 

She hesitated, eyes glancing at me only to quickly shift over to Reinhard. 

He offered her a reassuring smile. 

And then, just like that, Reinhard van Astrea dropped to one knee, respectful and sincere.

"Allow me and my friend to assist you in the search for your missing item, Lady Emilia." 

There was clear respect and deference in his tone, slightly different than how he'd addressed her just seconds prior. As if this act of kneeling and offering assistance to this noble was suddenly much more important. 

'What changed?' 

"…If you insist," she said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to be the one who speaks to her. Please."

He simply replied, "As you wish."

As Reinhard stood, I mulled over who this girl might be to warrant such respect from the Sword Saint. She wore nice clothing, and it was obvious she came from the upper classes, but even then, she didn't wear a fancy dress or restrictive clothing like most of the ladies I'd seen exiting estates in the Residential District. 

My internal musing was derailed when I noticed it—

A floating cat, curled up in midair just behind her shoulder.

Soft, ash-gray fur. Tail flicking with lazy rhythm.

A tiny little magenta handbag that perfectly fit its size.

And bright aqua blue eyes that were watching me very closely.

'Where did the magical flying cat come from? And is that a tiny handbag on its side? That's fucking adorable.' 

"—to the best of our ability, right, Ethan?" 

I suddenly realized that Emilia and Rein had been talking while my gaze had been firmly on the cat that was still staring daggers at me. 

Turning to reply to Reinhard, I was quickly cut off by an unknown voice coming from Emilia, "Eh, let the girl breathe first, Sir Glorious." The voice was androgynous and clearly not Emilia. Looking over to the girl, I saw no person to whom the voice would belong, except the cat that was still giving me an unamused stare. 

Emilia looked over her shoulder at the cat, surprised. "Puck…"

He gave a slow loop in the air, never quite taking his eyes off me.

"Take a deep breath, Lia," he continued, more gently now, floating a little closer to her ear. "You look like you're going to pass out. With Red here, you'll be able to get it back; it's not the end of the world… heh."

She didn't respond aloud.

Just nodded. Soft. Frustrated.

I watched in veiled bewilderment. I was looking at a floating magical cat that could speak. 

The next second, Puck turned in midair, his body rotating to face me completely.

"And you," he said, almost sing-song. "Don't think I didn't notice."

My eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. Had it noticed that I didn't particularly like its owner? Or that when I first saw her, I wanted to hit her with a Jiwald strong enough to bisect her? 

It didn't press further. Didn't need to. 

His further silence was enough to say: I'm watching you.

Then—

With a flick of his tail, he drifted back toward Emilia, curling again behind her shoulder like a protective scarf.

I looked at her and saw that she seemed confused; she didn't understand what her fluffy companion was talking about, but I did. 

Didn't mean I had any intention of telling her, though. Instead, I clapped my hands and decided to get this side show on the road. 

If we were going to go out of our way to help Emilia find a thief, I had just the tool. 

With everybody's attention now firmly on me, I reached inward and grasped the bonfire of warmth that was Reason and Judgement. 

Click. 

Emilia's hair, which had been blowing from a sudden breeze, froze. Stillness. Clarity. 

I was back in my domain. 

My eyes scanned the frozen frame. Emilia's expression, anxiety, concern. 

My gaze drifted to the distant crowd.

Gawkers gathering again, insects drawn to chaos.

Then the road we stood on and the shops surrounding us.

The damage from the small skirmish was minimal, if not superficial.

Curious.

Maybe the girl wasn't as foolish as she looked. Controlled magic. Enough training to contain herself in public.

Something to keep in mind. 

I turned my focus toward the objective. The thief.

In a city this size, most would presume it a daunting task. But I had a feeling it would be rather trivial. 

The scene changed. The past became present. 

No longer was I standing on the street; now I hung midair. Looking down at the moment the thief was making her grand escape, while Reinhard and I shot through the sky over a crowd. 

And there she was. Mid-stride. A couple hundred feet away from where I'd observed her in the air. 

Another blink of thought.

Now I stood before her.

The world still frozen. She, a statue suspended in time.

Every angle.

Every thread of clothing.

Every scrap of evidence clinging to her form, free for me to uncover.

Short. Golden hair. Red eyes that gleamed like rubies, just barely glimpsing back. Light fear in her expression, maybe shock.

She hadn't expected her target to fight back with such ferocity.

Inexperience. 

I played with the scene. Shifting time back slightly. Watched as the girl twisted to dodge a blunt-tipped icicle. Saw the crude grin flash across her face.

Excitement.

Adrenaline.

This was survival for the girl, yes, but it was also a game. 

This child is no professional. Too young. Too skinny. Clothes ragged as both a "fashion statement" and because she couldn't afford anything better. 

Or if she dared get something better, she would end up the target. 

But the real betrayal of who she was lay in her primary tools. Her shoes were practically falling apart. Scuffed, dirty, and the soles were practically gone. 

No escape artist worth the name would wear shoes like these. They were what they relied on to escape from what would likely be a cruel punishment if caught. 

Medieval civilizations were not known to be kind to those who broke their laws. 

I could already build a picture of where she came from based on the surface-level sweep. 

I looked closer.

She was filthy. A much closer look at her hair showed it was greasy, poorly put-together hairstyle roughly covered up with a little black bandana, brown leather gloves looked surprisingly clean, one of the few clean items on her.

Observing the soles of her shoes again in another snapshot showed dirt. Caked in thick. Not recent. This mud wasn't just from today. And it hadn't rained. 

I'd walked a good portion of the capital with Reinhard.

Brick. Stone. Flagstones polished smooth by foot traffic and centuries.

No dirt.

But that was because we stuck to the clean parts of town.

The parts that mattered.

She didn't come from those.

No, the capital of Lugunica wasn't flat. It was layered. And even a tourist like me had glimpsed the cracks in its presentation.

The places easier to overlook from above. But they still existed.

Lower districts. Run-down areas. 

The Slums.

And down there? Near the bottom of the hill where all the water flowed down? There would be dirt roads and plenty of mud. 

That's where she came from.

That's where she'd run to.

I let time slip from my control and exited the frozen moment, but the confidence clung to me like a cloak.

"The girl is from the slums," I said plainly. "Poor nutrition, bad shoes, torn clothes. She's a thief of opportunity." 

My eyes landed on Emilia, "You just happened to be an easy mark." 

But then another idea whispered into my ear. Something far more interesting than petty robbery. 

"...Or perhaps she was hired?"

The confidence continued to drench me from Reason and Judgement, "What exactly did this girl take from you?"

Emilia's eyebrows furrowed, and a small frown formed.

I smiled and continued. "She didn't take your bag with her. And I can hear what little coins you have still jingling in it. What kind of thief throws away the money?" 

"Uhm…" she faltered. "Perhaps she was simply frightened because I was angry?" Came the rather innocent-sounding excuse. 

I pressed on. "Ah, but she did take something from you. Something that, by your own admission, was rather important." 

'Was that because the object was valuable, more so than the coins? But how would a simple thief know such things?'

The whole robbery couldn't have taken more than a minute.

In that short span, the thief had to dodge incoming projectiles and make her escape.

She wasn't trained, relying heavily on luck and instinct, yet she still took the risk to slow down, rummage through the bag, and selectively remove something before tossing the rest.

That wasn't impulse.

That was intent. 

My eyes narrowed, catching the faintest flicker in Reinhard's expression.

And Emilia was starting to squirm under my stare.

Their reactions only made my pointed tone feel all the more justified.

A faint voice whispered in my ear. 'Maybe I'm pushing her too far.' 

But then again—

I'm enjoying the mystery.

And just as I took a breath to continue—

"I don't think I quite like the tone you're taking with my daughter, boy." 

That was the voice of a floating cat that sounded eerily deep compared to the androgynous voice it had adopted earlier. 

I raised my hands in mock surrender, "I'm only attempting to ascertain just what it is that we seek to reacquire, Mr. Puck. Please, forgive my rather blunt tone, Miss Emilia." 

Emilia gave me a hesitant nod, and I gave one last smile to Puck, who looked like he wanted to send me flying into the stratosphere when the confidence finally wore off. 

'Jeez, way to be antagonistic. But at least pushing that angle did give us some info. This little side quest that Reinhard has roped us into might be a little more dangerous than a simple recovery mission.' 

Reinhard finally spoke, his eyes flicking between me and Emilia, uncertain.

"You're sure she comes from the slums?" He asked.

"Yeah. Her shoes are worn to the soles. You don't run with soles like that unless you have to. Her hair's greasy, there's dirt on her skin, I could partially see her ribs, and she's got caked mud on her shoes. Not from today, older, cracked around the edges. And there aren't dirt roads in this part of the city." I answered.

'And I would wager that kids like her don't exactly have the time to go splashing around in mud puddles for fun.' 

He gave a small hum of agreement before turning his attention to the small detachment of guardsmen who had finally muscled their way to the front of the increasingly disappointed crowd and were rapidly approaching us. 

What followed were understandable reprimands from the city guards.

I was mildly surprised they didn't just wave us off the moment they saw Reinhard, until I noticed the way some of them looked at her.

I wasn't the only one unsettled by her appearance.

Even knowing now that she and the Witch were two different people... the resemblance was still there. Unnerving.

After confirming there was minimal property damage and no casualties from her magic, the guards finally let us go, though not without casting confused glances at our bizarre little party.

A floating cat.

A social pariah.

The Sword Saint of Lugunica.

And some white-haired stranger dressed like his twin.

Now the hunt for the little thief could begin.

And I prayed to whatever gods were listening that, amid this side quest, I might still find who I was tasked with.

Because there's a special kind of dread that sets in when you realize: if you fail, none of this matters.

Every step. Every loop. Every breath. 

Meaningless.