Re:zero to Echidna

The scent of old paper and dust was a welcome reprieve from the rot festering in Subaru's bones. Beatrice's library loomed around him, its labyrinthine shelves casting jagged shadows in the flickering candlelight. He traced a finger along a spine embossed with silver runes, the leather cold and unnervingly smooth, like the skin of something long buried.

*"Tsk. How pedestrian,"* Echidna murmured, her voice curling from the darkness between shelves. *"That one's about crop rotation in the 12th century. Riveting, I'm sure."*

Subaru ignored her, pulling the tome free. Dust cascaded like ash. "Hey, Beako! Think this'll help?"

Beatrice materialized atop her floating ladder, pink eyes narrowing. "If Betty had a yen for every time you asked that *insipid* question, she'd own the Sage's Tower." She snapped her fingers. The book levitated from his grip, slamming back into place. "And *stop* touching things. Your stench is bad enough without smudges."

He grinned, leaning against the shelf. It groaned ominously. "C'mon, there's gotta be *something* here about breaking eternal contracts. Maybe a loophole? A 'get out of jail free' spell?"

"Betty's contract is *flawless*," she hissed, though her hands tightened on the ladder's rung. "Unlike your *manners*."

*"She's lying,"* Echidna whispered, materializing beside him in a rustle of black lace. *"That little spirit's been picking at her chains for centuries. Pathetic, really."*

Subaru's smile hardened. "What if we tried combining mana streams? Like that time with the sugar cubes?"

Beatrice's teacup froze halfway to her lips. "*Sugar cubes*? You equate Betty's life's work to—to *confectionary experiments*?!"

"Worked, didn't it?"

"Barely! And only because Betty *allowed* it!"

Echidna chuckled, her breath frosting his ear. *"Oh, she's *adorable* when she's flustered. Let's fluster her more."*

Subaru opened his mouth—and the mansion shook.

***

Screams echoed through the halls. Not the usual ones—Subaru's personal soundtrack of nightmares—but real, raw terror. Ram's voice sliced through the chaos: "*Mabeasts! In the east wing!*"

Beatrice vanished in a ripple of mana. Subaru sprinted after her, the Witch's stench boiling in his wake. He skidded into the grand hall, bile rising as he took in the carnage.

The walls were alive.

Wolgarm pups—each the size of a horse—oozed from cracks in the stone, their furless bodies glistening with mucus and blood. They moved in a grotesque undulation, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of needle-teeth. At their center stood a figure cloaked in shadows, their face obscured by a mask of bleached bone.

*Cultist.*

"Subaru!" Emilia's voice. She stood at the stairwell, Puck swirling frost around her. "Stay back!"

*"No, no,"* Echidna crooned. *"Let's see how the half-elf bleeds this time."*

Ram lunged, her wind blades shearing through a Wolgarm. Black blood sprayed, sizzling where it struck the floor. "*Reinforce the barriers!*" she barked at Beatrice.

The spirit hovered mid-air, grimoires orbiting her like satellites. "*You* command *Betty*? How *droll*." But her fingers twitched, golden light flaring from the mansion's foundation.

The Cultist laughed—a sound like grinding glass. "**The Warden and the Witch's pet. How quaint.**" They raised a hand, and the Wolgarm *convulsed*.

Subaru's vision blurred. The stench of the Witch swelled, choking him. He stumbled, memories crashing over him—Rem's flail, Elsa's blades, the cold press of a knife against his throat.

*"Pathetic,"* Echidna sighed. *"Shall I narrate your death? Or will you *do* something?"*

A Wolgarm lunged. Subaru dodged on instinct, its teeth grazing his shoulder. Blood bloomed, blackening instantly. *Poison.*

"Subaru!" Beatrice's voice, sharp with… panic?

He grinned through the pain. "Miss me already, Beako?"

*"Fool!"* She flicked her wrist. The Wolgarm disintegrated, reduced to ash. "Stay *down*!"

"Can't. We've got… a guest." He nodded to the Cultist, now chanting in guttural tones. The remaining Wolgarm began to *merge*, their bodies liquefying into a pulsating mass.

Emilia's ice shattered against it. Ram's wind blades dissolved. The thing grew—a tumor of flesh and teeth, its core throbbing with malignant light.

*"Ah,"* Echidna breathed. *"A Demi-Beast. How nostalgic."*

Subaru's legs gave out. The poison seared his veins. "Beatrice… the grimoire… third shelf… *Ephemeral Calamities*…"

Her eyes widened. "You *read* that?"

"Skimmed." He coughed, blood spattering the floor. "Page… seventy-four…"

The Demi-Beast roared. The Cultist's chant crescendoed. Beatrice vanished in a burst of light, reappearing with a grimoire bound in chains. She tore them free, pages flipping wildly.

"Subaru!" Emilia cried. "Hold on!"

*"Don't you dare die,"* Beatrice snarled, her mana surging. "Not until Betty *permits* it!"

Golden light erupted. The Demi-Beast screamed. Subaru's vision whited out.

***

He woke to sugar on his tongue.

Beatrice hovered over him, her dress singed, face smudged with soot. They were in the library, the scent of burnt parchment heavy in the air.

"Welcome back," she muttered. "*Idiot*."

Subaru sat up, wincing. No wounds. No poison. Just the familiar ache of a reset. "Did we win?"

"*We* didn't. *Betty* did." She thrust a teacup at him. "Drink."

He sipped. Chamomile and something bitter—antidote. "Where's the Cultist?"

"Gone. But their *stench* lingers." Her nose wrinkled. "Much like yours."

Echidna materialized by the firelight, her smile razor-thin. *"How heroic. Almost made me *feel* something."*

Subaru ignored her. "They knew about you, Beako. About the contract."

The spirit stilled. "Impossible."

"They called you 'the Warden.'"

The teacup trembled in her hands. "A… coincidence."

*"Liar,"* Echidna and Subaru said in unison.

Beatrice's mana spiked. "*Enough!* Betty's affairs are none of your—"

The door burst open. Ram stood framed in the threshold, her uniform torn, eyes blazing. "You." She leveled her cleaver at Subaru. "*You* brought them here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Got a lotta enemies, huh?"

"The Cultist spoke of a *vessel*," she hissed. "Of the perfect candidate for the ordeal. What ordeal?!*. And you—" Her gaze cut to Beatrice. "*You* know. Don't you?"

Beatrice floated between them, grimoires rising like shields. "Leave. *Now*."

Ram's blade hummed with mana. "Not until you explain."

Subaru stood, the room tilting. "Hey, Pinky. How 'bout we all take a breath and—"

The cleaver's edge kissed his throat. "*Speak*."

*"Kill her,"* Echidna urged. *"Let the spirit do it. It'll be *hilarious*."*

Beatrice's eyes glowed gold. "*Try it.*"

Emilia's voice cut through the tension: "*Stop!*"

They turned. She stood in the doorway, Puck a silent storm at her shoulder. Behind her, Rem trembled, her flail dripping Wolgarm ichor.

"The Cultist is gone," Emilia said, voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "But they'll return. And we need to be ready."

Subaru met Beatrice's gaze. The unspoken truth hung between them—the door, the contract, the Cultist's cryptic words.

*"Well,"* Echidna sighed. *"This should be *fun*."*

---

That night, Subaru found Beatrice in the crypts.

She hovered before the sealed door, her hand pressed to its icy surface. Runes pulsed faintly beneath her touch, their light sickly and dim.

"You okay?" he asked.

She didn't turn. "Betty is *always* okay."

He leaned against the wall, the stone leeching warmth from his bones. "Liar."

Silence. Then: "They'll come for it. The Cult. The *key*."

"Let them." He grinned, all teeth. "We'll be waiting."

Beatrice's fingers curled into fists. "*We*?"

"Partners, right?"

"*Never*."

But when the crypt's chill deepened, she didn't pull away from his side.

Then Subaru thought about the attack, *So there had been an early attack in the previous cycles. What changed? Was it because Felt escaped from the loot house before and Reinhart hadn't seen her? Only the pendant ? So the cultists thought that Emilia's forces weren't as strong because the ceremony for the throne was delayed and they thought a mix of cultists and Mabeasts would do the trick.*

His fists tightened, *Should I reset this loop?*

Then his gaze darted towards the knife in his pocket but stopped inches away as a small blond spirit watched ober him. He remembered her concern when he was attacked.

She was one of the few people who hadn't cause his death. And this was a treasure in his eyes.

***

Above them, in the moonlit halls, the Witch's shadow stretched long—and laughed.