Re:Zero: The Path of Pride

I opened my eyes like a man waking from the best sleep of his life. For a moment, it felt like I'd been reborn.

A calm smile crept across my face as I inhaled deeply, and immediately regretted it. The sharp taste of cigarette smoke hit the back of my throat, dragging me back to reality.

I raised my gaze, slow and steady, to find Reinhard watching me in stunned silence.

Still smiling, I asked casually, "Did you catch that?"

He frowned.

"You said, 'I went back in,' and then… you stopped talking."

I hummed, low and easy. A buzz lingered in my skull, cold and electrifying, making everything else feel distant. Unimportant.

I wandered over to the window and looked out at the warm, beautiful weather. Then, like we were discussing the outcome of a game, I said, "Indeed. I did stop talking. You noticed it, the pain. The miasma."

Then I turned to face him fully, hands folding naturally behind my back.

"What can you surmise from the information I've given you, Rein?"

The question came out like a teacher guiding a student through a problem they should already know how to solve.

His answer came slowly. "You were… prevented from speaking. And the pain was… punishment."

His eyes locked onto mine with all the seriousness he could muster.

He was putting it together now. Everything we'd discussed. My sudden curiosity about miasma. The Witch. Whether she still lived. The way I'd started using magic out of nowhere. And the fact that I couldn't finish certain sentences.

Then it clicked for him.

"The Witch of Envy has forced you into some kind of contract," he said slowly, eyes locked onto mine. "Something that punishes you if you try to speak about it."

He paused. "You said that you 'went back.'"

Something sparked in him. A jolt. His eyes widened. He was getting warmer.

I didn't say a word. I didn't have to. The smile on my face stretched just a little more.

"You suddenly knew how to use fire magic," he continued, voice sharper now. "And your gate, it's active. Earlier today, I checked and it wasn't."

'Closer.'

"…You've gone back in time."

The words left him like a breath he hadn't meant to speak, soft, disbelieving, almost fragile.

My eyes narrowed, pleased. Watching his expression morph, piece by piece, from confusion to dawning horror, to something much heavier.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

The pain from earlier loomed at the edges of my awareness like a shadow waiting to bite.

Still… maybe I could take it now.

Maybe I was stronger. Maybe I could withstand it.

'I feel like I could take on the world.'

…That didn't sound right.

The haze clouding my thoughts suddenly evaporated, as if someone had pulled the plug on the high.

The smile plastered to my face fell off.

I blinked, slowly, the strange euphoria leaving me hollow.

I looked at Reinhard. Really looked at him.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure what he saw staring back.

He still looked thunderstruck. The revelation he'd come across left him speechless.

But a second later, he was already moving, crossing the room and placing a steady hand on my shoulder.

And just like that, I felt grounded again.

Like I'd been drifting out into space, slowly untethering from everything that mattered, and now, suddenly, I had an anchor.

Something solid. Something real.

It felt… good.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was calm. Composed.

"Ethan. We're going to get through this. Together. Just... don't try to speak about the curse again, alright? There's no need for you to suffer like that."

I nodded in assent while he let out a short breath, quiet and tired.

His hand tightened slightly on my shoulder. A silent reminder that I wasn't alone.

Meanwhile, my mind was still doing loops. Strange ones. Dizzying ones. Like I hadn't fully come down yet.

"…I've already failed you," I heard Rein mutter.

That snapped me out of it.

My hand rose and settled on his shoulder, mirroring his gesture. Steady.

"Hey. You didn't fail me. Sometimes, shit just happens."

I gave him a crooked smile. "But like you once said, one step at a time, even if the road's unfamiliar, right?"

Reinhard gave me a firm nod, solid, steady, like a silent promise.

I exhaled and stepped back, putting a bit of space between us as I turned toward the window. My eyes were drifting across the rooftops, but I wasn't really seeing the view.

My mind was sprinting. The Witch. The unknown man I had to save. The terrifying idea that I was now on a timer.

And then it hit me like a slap to the back of the head.

'Oh, shit.'

If I'd gone back in time...

That meant the man from the marketplace, the one who was going to murder his ex, hadn't been stopped yet. Without intervention, he would probably be able to stab that lady.

The blood drained from my face as I quickly glanced up, checking the sun's position. Thankfully, it was still high in the sky. I turned and scanned the Guard Captain's room, spotting a time crystal above the door. I could roughly read that it was almost exactly noon.

That meant we had plenty of time to do something about the man. The tension in my shoulders eased off as I realized I wouldn't be partially responsible for letting some loon murder a lady in broad daylight if I could help it.

Even if some monstrous, shadow-cloaked Witch was puppeteering me into "helping" someone I hadn't even met, I could still do something. Something real. Something good.

The woman didn't need to die.

'Maybe I can ask Rein to post some guards there. Give the men the description of both the man and the woman he wants dead, then have them stake out the alley and take the guy down if he tries to act like he did last time.

The plan was flimsy. But it was something. A net I could toss into the unknown.

And hey —

Worst-case scenario?

I do it all over again.

If the Witch gives me a third shot.

Things were falling into place in my mind. A fractured plan was slowly cementing itself. With Reinhard nearby and finally in the loop, I didn't feel like I was slowly drowning. I could start clawing my way back to something that felt like stability. A position where I had footing. Where I had control.

And step one?

Probably involved not standing here, glassy-eyed and staring out the window like a lunatic.

I spun around — again — facing Reinhard for what felt like the umpteenth time. At this point, I was starting to feel like a weather vane in a wind tunnel.

But this time, I meant it. No more back-and-forth. No more pacing around this smoke-saturated office like I was losing my mind.

It was time to get this horror show on the road.

Reinhard met my gaze, steady as ever. A flicker of determination behind his eyes… tinged with just the slightest bit of confusion, probably from watching me pinball emotionally every five seconds.

I shrugged it off and clapped a fist into my open palm, like I was about to outline a battle plan.

Because in a way, I was.

"Alright, Rein. Time to get down to business."

He nodded without hesitation, which I appreciated, and I continued.

"So. My current assigned mission, straight from the Witch herself? I'm supposed to help save some guy."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly waiting for more.

Yeah, same, buddy.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. The Witch, capable of blowing up half the world four centuries ago, wanted me to help save some man, and she couldn't even give me a rough description.

No details. No face. No name. No context.

I threw my hands up, exasperated. "That's it. That's all I get. I'm supposed to save some man, without knowing a damn thing about them."

Reinhard didn't flinch. He just stood there, arms relaxed at his sides, nodding slowly as I ranted.

Then, finally, he spoke, calm, even, like always.

"Even without specifics… if the Witch asked you to save someone, then perhaps the opportunity will present itself."

I stared at him.

That was his answer?

But he kept going, voice steady.

"We can keep our eyes open. I know a number of locations from my time patrolling the capital. We can go through them. Perhaps something will stand out to you." He paused, thoughtful. "And if this person is truly tied to the Witch of Envy… then surely they must be someone enigmatic. Unusual."

I let out a long breath. My hands dropped from their half-dramatic sprawl back to my sides.

It wasn't much, but it was something. A plan. A direction. And it gave me the perfect segue into the other fire that was currently burning in my brain.

"Alright. So we patrol around the city and hope something pops out at me, sure. But that's not the only issue."

I met Reinhard's eyes, tone sharpening.

"I know where a murder's going to happen."

That got his full attention. His gaze hardened immediately, posture straightening like someone flipping a switch from calm to alert.

But before he could ask, I cut him off.

"We've got time," I assured him. "It doesn't happen until later. My idea? We quietly alert the city guard. Have them post people in the area, discreetly, so the would-be killer doesn't spook. Let them catch him if he makes a move."

Reinhard paused, considering. Then he gave a short nod. "That's sound."

"You know where it's going to take place?"

I couldn't help the grin. 

"Exact street. Exact description of the perpetrator, victim, and the bystander who'll be with them when it happens."

That earned me a look of genuine appreciation.

He nodded a few times, eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced something together in his head. Then, after a beat, he asked for the location, not absentmindedly, but like he was already ten steps into planning.

When I gave it, he gave one final nod, then spoke.

"I needed to know if this station was close enough to dispatch guardsmen directly," he explained, tapping a finger against his arm in thought. "If not, I would've had to use their looking-glass metia to relay orders to a closer station. But as luck would have it, this one's close enough to act immediately."

I gave a short nod of understanding.

Then Reinhard stepped closer again, resting a hand on my shoulder, steady, grounding, familiar.

"Ethan," he said, voice firm but kind, "we will get through this."

He held my gaze for a beat longer, just long enough to make sure I believed him, and I gave him a nod in return.

That was enough.

With the immediate plan set, he turned and headed for the door. I followed without hesitation.

We finally exited the office and began descending the stone steps, the soft echo of our boots marking each one as we made our way down toward the Watch Hall of the station, and the next move.

Stepping out of the narrow stairwell tucked in the corner of the hall, I caught sight of a group of six guards standing in a semi-circle, receiving orders from what looked like their squad captain, or something equivalent. I wasn't familiar with the ranking system.

The city guard wore light metal armor, each with a distinctive white tabard draped down the front, trimmed in red. Standard issue. Every man carried a shortsword, but from there, their loadouts varied. I spotted two with spears, one with a longbow, a pair with crossbows, and one who looked every bit the squad mage, cloak draped over his armor, staff in hand, and just enough smug in his posture to sell the look.

The captain's voice carried across the hall, not shouting, but sharp enough to cut through the chatter.

"With everything that's happened lately, tensions are up. You've seen it. Hell, you've felt it. The people are restless, and that means the people are violent."

He paced once across the group, scanning them.

"I won't waste time on what you already know. But I will tell you this: I need you all to keep your heads on a fucking swivel. I've been getting reports from stations near the slums. Casualties are rising."

He stopped and locked eyes with a few of them, making sure no one was zoning out.

"The guard's getting sloppy. Some of you think you can cruise through familiar streets, take a little sip of something, and coast through the job like the last twenty times. Then one night, you get too comfortable… and someone buries a rusty dagger in your gut."

A beat of silence.

"I do not want to speak with the station commander, and have to tell him that we have to add our men to the tally. Because when that happens?"

He jabbed a thumb at himself.

"I'm the first one on the chopping block. And rest assured, I'll be coming back from the grave to make sure you shitheads join me. Is that understood?"

In perfect unison, the guards slammed their fists to their chests, metal echoing loud across the Watch Hall.

"Yes, Sergeant!"

Just as the sergeant was about to dismiss them, Reinhard stepped forward, like he'd toggled on his presence. Because the moment he moved, the entire squad snapped to attention, spinning in unison to face him like they'd just seen a ghost with rank.

Reinhard gave the sergeant a respectful nod as he approached, subtly motioning for the guards to stay put when a couple looked like they were about to scurry off.

"Sergeant Varric," he greeted smoothly. "A pleasure to meet you."

The sergeant returned the nod with a firm salute.

"Sir Reinhard. To what do I owe the honor, sir?" His tone held crisp respect, no bootlicking, no theatrics.

"I was hoping to request the assistance of some of your men," Reinhard said, polite but direct. "I've received credible information about a potential murder. Side street off Fletching. I'd like to dispatch a small team to quietly watch the area and intercept if needed. Can you accommodate that?"

"Quietly…" Varric muttered, eyeing the squad, still locked in perfect formation like one twitch would get them decapitated on the spot.

He considered for a moment, then gave a low hum.

"I've got the men for that. Ones who know how to move quiet and take someone down without blowing the whole thing. You got a description on who we're watching?"

That's when I finally got pulled into the conversation.

A quick introduction later, and I was laying out everything. The man, the woman, the bystander who'd be with her. My words came fast and sharp, Reason and Judgement guiding every detail.

I considered offering suggestions, angles, positions, ideal sightlines for the stakeout, but in the end, I kept my mouth shut. These guys knew the city better than I did. No sense in tossing out armchair tactics and making both myself and Reinhard look like fools.

Sergeant Varric wasted no time issuing orders, barking assignments while the guards began checking weapons and tightening gear with practiced efficiency.

Reinhard leaned in beside me, voice low.

"We'll accompany them for a bit," he said. "Fletching connects to a few of the main avenues through the capital. Heavy foot traffic. More chances to spot whoever we're really looking for."

He said it like it was nothing. Like this was just part of the job.

But I caught the subtle phrasing.

'Whoever we're looking for.'

Not your problem. Ours.

He was taking this on with me, no questions, no hesitations, like he always did.

I gave him a warm nod, unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Around us, the guards were finishing up. Some strapped on helmets. Others pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, vanishing into more anonymous silhouettes.

It was time to move.

Stepping out of the station and into the sunlight, I fell into step next to Reinhard, who had seemingly toggled his presence off again. The guards were no longer as tense, but were still aware he was nearby, as a couple kept glancing backwards at both of us, but their eyes always seemed to glaze over Reinhard's position and snap to me instead.

I mostly ignored the troops and instead kept scanning the crowds, hoping that my mystery man was easier to find than I feared he would be. That I would simply know that the person I was forced to save was right there, and all I had to do was walk up to them.

No such luck.

We marched on for a good fifteen minutes, Sergeant Varric leading the team of six guardsmen from the front while Reinhard and I held to the back of the formation. The flow of civilians naturally curved around the guardsmen, making it easy for us to move down the avenue.

I was mid-scan, eyes sweeping the moving bodies for any faces that stood out, when the soft clatter of armor snapped me out of my focus.

Two guards near the back slowed their pace just enough to fall in beside us. They didn't so much as glance at Reinhard, instead focusing their attention squarely on me.

"Hey," one of them said, the one with the cloak draped over his shoulders. "You with the intelligence division?"

I quirked a brow at the question, confused by the sudden interest. He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Six Tongues. You one of theirs? Nobody shows up to a station with the Sword Saint in tow, pulls a squad, and drops that much info on a suspect like that."

His partner finally chimed in, whispering in the same hush-hush tone, "Yeah, unless you're with the spooks."

Between the whispering and the context around Six Tongues, it was obvious it was the Dragon Kingdom's version of the CIA or FBI. But I wasn't with them, clearly.

"And if I were an intel operative," I said, voice lilting with amusement, "do you think I'd actually tell you?"

I reached out and clapped a hand on each of their backs, leaning in like I was sharing some great secret. "But if I did tell you... I'd have to kill you."

Both men froze and turned their gazes toward me, expressions flickering somewhere between suspicious and concerned.

I let the moment hang just long enough before chuckling and patting their backs again, offering a grin.

The one on my left barked out a laugh. The cloaked one shook his head. "You were fucking with us…" he muttered.

"Just having a little fun, gentlemen."

I glanced past the man on my left, checking on Reinhard, not that he needed it. Sure enough, he was fine. Still scanning the crowd with quiet focus, just like I had been before these two decided I was interesting.

He noticed my gaze and gave me a small, reassuring smile and a nod. I returned it subtly, then turned my attention back to the guards.

Cloak wasn't done, his curiosity still simmering. "Alright, but how'd you get all those details? The suspect, sure. But the woman and her new boyfriend, too?"

My smile faltered just a hair. I had no actual answer I could give to random people. So, I lied.

"Got a tip from an informant tied to the perp and the woman."

I leaned in again, whispering like we were trading state secrets.

"Between you and me? She wanted to stay anonymous, but the tone gave her away—pretty sure it was the lady's mother-in-law. You could hear the venom. That kind of spite? You don't fake that."

The left-hand guard nodded sagely, clearly convinced. "Yeah, I know a guy in the Eighth up by the residential district, told me some mother-in-law put a hit out on a guy just for not greeting her properly. Real vindictive types out there, man. Gotta watch your back."

I nodded solemnly, Cloak doing the same. Truly, mother-in-laws: nature's shadow operatives.

That's when I caught something ahead.

"Oh shit. Look alive, Sarge is up to something."

My two new friends gave firm nods before straightening up, suddenly acting like they'd been focused the whole time and definitely hadn't been shooting the shit with me for the last few blocks.

Ahead of the squad, Sergeant Varric abruptly backhanded the living daylights out of a drunk who'd stumbled out of a tavern and almost into him. The man was already completely plastered, despite it being barely noon. The poor bastard reeled, stumbled back, and fell face-first into a nasty, muddy puddle.

Without missing a beat, Varric marched over, grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him out of the muck before he could drown himself in three inches of sludge. He shook his head in pure disdain and kept walking like it was just another Tuesday.

I gave the drunk a passing look of faint pity. The poor bastard was now flailing half-heartedly in the muck, trying to find his dignity and maybe his shoe. I didn't linger. Just kept in step with my two newest companions, Harven on my left, and Bren, the crossbowman with the cloak, on my right.

Eventually, we reached a narrow split in the road. The squad peeled off into an alley near their assigned stakeout, melting into the shadows with surprising grace for a bunch of guys in metal armor.

Before parting, Harven gave me a solid pat on the back, while Bren gave a small, two-fingered salute and murmured, "Hope the bastard shows. We'll be watching."

I gave a firm nod, silently wishing them luck as they disappeared into the side street, the last echo of boots fading beneath the hum of midday crowds.

And just like that, it was back to me and Reinhard.

"Hey, Rein," I said, glancing over. "You've been real quiet, man. You good?"

He met my eyes for only a second before his gaze swept back toward the crowd, eyes narrowed. He was scanning faces like a hawk, sharp, deliberate, hyper-focused, while I'd spent the last fifteen minutes swapping dumb stories about pissed-off mother-in-laws and guard station gossip.

"…I'm fine, Ethan," he said, voice even. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. After everything."

The words were clean. Controlled. But I could hear the weight in them.

He felt guilty. Not for something he'd done, but for something he thought he should've prevented.

And this? The way he kept his eyes glued to the crowd like he could physically will danger away? That was his penance.

I exhaled slowly, watching as a cluster of merchants on our right broke into a heated argument. Someone, probably the scrawny kid with the ink-stained fingers, had screwed up a price sheet. Now they were bickering over oil prices, half their inventory, and who they were going to beat the hell out of before the sun went down.

I let the noise fade behind us and reached over, placing a firm hand on Reinhard's shoulder as we neared a busy intersection, one of the main arteries that split the capital's inner districts.

"Don't carry this in silence, alright?" I said, keeping my tone gentle. "You didn't screw up. You've been by my side this whole time. Even now, you're walking with me, down this road, on your day off, just to help keep me from falling apart."

He didn't answer, but I felt the subtle shift in his posture. A moment of tension released. A breath let go.

"You're not alone in this," I added, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. "So don't act like you are."

We fell into step again, wordless now, letting the ambient hum of the capital carry us forward as we merged into the slow-moving flow of foot traffic along what I learned from a sign was King's Lane.

It was a sight worth seeing.

The road sloped gently downward, offering an unobstructed line of sight over the rooftops that fanned out across the surrounding districts. Colorful banners fluttered from the upper balconies of merchant homes, catching sunlight and tossing it back in warm, shimmering flashes.

Far to the right, past the maze of streets and stacked terraces, a darkened section of the city cut through the color like an ink stain. And rising from its heart, unmistakable even from this distance, was the Academy, its angular towers piercing the skyline, casting faint shadows over the rest of the Magic District.

I hadn't been there in this timeline. But even from here, it looked exactly as massive as I remembered.

My eyes drifted back to the people around us. Merchants, nobles, commoners, each one lost in their own world, brushing past us with barely a glance. None stood out. No mysterious spark. No strange connection. Just strangers moving about their lives.

The only thing tethering me to this place was Reinhard, who remained a steady presence beside me, white jacket brushing lightly against my arm with each step.

And then, the rhythm broke.

The crowd ahead slowed, not in a natural way, but the way people do when they spot something they can't look away from.

A murmur passed through the air. Heads turned. Bodies leaned.

Over the shorter passersby, I caught a glimpse, a cluster of onlookers gathering at a junction just off the main road, craning their necks toward something just out of sight.

I glanced at Reinhard. He met my look with a nod, already adjusting his pace.

With nothing better to do, considering our current plan was basically a divine game of Where's Waldo, we angled toward the commotion, hoping whatever was happening would be more than just a street magician juggling knives or someone loudly selling snake oil.

We slipped into the crowd, drawn in by that universal human impulse: the need to see what made everyone else stop walking.

The answer to that question came before we could see it. 

Shhhk-THUNK!

I instinctively ducked as a spray of dulled crystalline shards zipped overhead, embedding themselves with a crunch into the wooden post behind me. Ice.

A moment later, the screams started. First confusion, then panic — that distinct shift in pitch that turns curiosity into fear.

The crowd scattered.

All at once, the slow-moving flow of bodies reversed. People of every age, shape, and class scrambled to escape, shoving and stumbling, the earlier murmur replaced by cries and the sharp shatter of more ice slamming into stone.

I staggered back as a woman clutching a basket of fruit bulldozed past me, nearly toppling a young boy in her haste. A guard shouted something I couldn't make out, and a child wailed nearby as their parent dragged them away. The air was charged, tense and biting, like the aftershock of a lightning strike.

My eyes snapped to Reinhard, just in time to see his head whip around and lock onto me.

And before I could even say his name—

One hand shot out. His grip latched onto the front of my jacket, and in a motion so fluid it barely registered—

WHOOSH.

We launched skyward.

"HOLY FUCK WE'RE FLYING!" I shrieked with the utmost dignity of a war hero.

The ground plummeted beneath us. I clung to Reinhard's shoulders in a death grip, eyes squeezed shut against the sudden rush of wind and the screaming windpipes of my ancestors.

When I finally forced my eyes open, we were already arcing through the air, soaring above the crowd like a goddamn videogame cutscene.

Below us, the chaos continued to spiral, but Reinhard's eyes were already locked on the source of the disturbance.

And then I saw it too.

There, in the middle of the street, a young woman stood, her arms raised as spears of ice launched one after another from her position. The shots weren't clean, the spears looked dull, malformed, like they'd been hastily conjured and fired without proper control.

But that didn't stop them from trying to hit the tiny blonde blur sprinting through the chaos.

The girl, a child, no older than ten or twelve, moved with terrifying speed, her legs pumping as she juked and darted around flying projectiles. One spear struck the cobblestone near her heel and exploded in a bloom of frost.

She didn't break stride.

With a speed that made my stomach twist, the girl vaulted up a wall, actually up the side of a godsdamned building, kicking off a windowsill, catching a ledge, and launching herself up and away, vanishing over the rooftop like a feral cat on moonshine.

I stared.

"...What the actual hell is happening?" I muttered, still clinging to Reinhard like a koala in crisis.