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The city burns.
Another man would be worried about stepping on the wrong stone and falling, but the Sword Saint has no such concerns anymore. He’s searching for someone; everything else comes second.
If he could see his ruby red hair, he would find it gleaming with a shine stronger than sunlight; if he could see his eyes, he would find them full of nothing but rage. Truthfully, he has never been more worthy of the name Saint .
The avenging angel, with wings of fire, looks upon the destruction before him. There’s only one thing still intact, only one person still alive, for miles ahead: the one responsible for the fire, the one behind so much death and despair, the one who took everything for himself and all for a goal no one seems to know.
Cradling the lifeless body of the child assassin, the Archbishop of Pride looks almost… sad, if not for his unfaltering posture and his empty eyes.
He smiles when he sees Reinhard, though. Why?
“Go no further.” Reinhard commands. The angel’s voice is usually enough to make even hardened criminals cower in fear, but Pride just lays the child down in the rubble and stands to face him. His smile widens.
“Reinhard Van Astrea.”
So he knows him. Yet doesn’t fear him.
“It seems that I don’t need to introduce myself. I don’t have much to say to you, either.”
Pride looks into his eyes. He seems to find something interesting there. Perhaps that pure, flaming rage that is slowly consuming his heart as the fire consumes the kingdom in turn.
“So you were capable of hating people after all, Sword Saint!”
“It surprises me as well. I didn’t think these feelings were in me.”
“So you found a new you.” Pride grins, “Congratulations. Happy birthday, Reinhard.”
Even that feels like an insult. Everything that comes out of that madman’s mouth feels like a personal offense, and he has a feeling that that’s the way it’s intended to be. After all, the only thing he can see behind Pride’s eyes is the madness born of obsession, and that obsession is focused on him.
“Unfortunately, today is not the day of my birth. But it will be the day of your death.”
Anyone else would cower at a similar threat, coming from him. Not Pride. Instead, something else happens. Something clicks in whatever is left of his mind, and he slaps his forehead as if trying to shake that coin out.
“A challenge,” he murmurs. “Of course. Of course! Oh, I’ve always wanted to do this!”
He claps his hands in pure delight: “Kill me if you want, Reinhard. But I have something to say, first.”
He doesn’t want to listen to a word he has to say. His words are poison, he knows that all too well.
But, even then, something wins him over. Something that lands somewhere between his sense of chivalry and his curiosity. He wants to know. What does it matter? He can stop him at any time.
“Speak your last, Archbishop.”
Pride giggles like a child: “Thank you! Now, hm…”
He sizes up the space around him. Reinhard isn’t sure why, until he hops on top of a pile of debris. Why does he want the high ground? Is something coming from below? Reinhard looks around in alarm, but he finds nothing.
Pride looks offended that he had the nerve to take his eyes off of him: “Hey! Over here, pretty boy! I’m talking to you!”
Reinhard doesn’t have time to answer him. Pride clears his throat and…
...where is the music coming from?
"Pride incarnate
Spitting fire and the kingdom ignites
I don't need divine blessings to fuck up your life
My mind games are unbeatable, alliances unbroken and I'm bad
The only way you'll leave is in a body bag
I know you and everybody like the back of my hand
Ask Felix- er, Blue where he stands.
People call you the Sword Saint but you never fight?
I've seen more determination in the corpse of a knight
You have all of the power but I'm the one who's in control
And how come someone called the Saint has never saved a single soul?
Reinhard Van Astrea, you could get me seeing stars
But oops, I forgot, you knights don't do well with bars."
Reinhard Van Astrea, the Sword Saint, the Strongest Man in the world, is standing there with an open-mouthed expression on his face like he just got slapped with a fish. He closes his mouth. He opens it again. For the first time in his life, Reinhard Van Astrea is well and truly gobsmacked. He is genuinely and completely confused. It almost overwhelms that fiery, fiery rage. He takes a deep breath.
Suddenly, Reinhard’s many, many divine protections activate, morphing into their ultimate form: The Divine Protection Of Rap-Battle Related Semi-Omniscience and Superiority.
Pride’s eyes narrow, then widen in delighted shock. Dramatic background music starts playing, complete with very knightly and saintly horns and trumpets. Reinhard speaks.
“ Pride, bad —that’s just an excuse
to hide how you’re running around with some screws loose
You think you’re so powerful
You think you’re so smart
but really, you’ve been falling behind me from the start
Reinhard Van Astrea—that’s right, that’s my name
Everybody knows it—can you say the same?
You keep saying that you’ve gotten out of the hole that you’ve dug
but you’re still stuck—eighty-nine tries to beat one thug
Speaking of—seriously? You’re blaming me for that?
You’re still whining about your failures—where’s you pride at?
Allies, alliances, they’re really just a noose
The closest you’ve got to a friend is Betelgeuse."
Pride’s smile widens with every verse.
Reinhard finishes, panting for breath.
Reinhard’s background track fades. It’s replaced by the crackle of flames and that alien music.
Pride scoffs. There’s a sick grin on his face. He’s confident. Unaffected.
"Friends? Come on!
You wanna talk about that?
About your dead guard dog and the tamed kitty cat?
And your reputation, your family name?
I'm an unknown, but man, at least I've got an aim!
And yes, I repeat, I improve, and boom!
If you were in my shoes, you wouldn't crawl out of your tomb
You're an aimless pretty boy who never grew out of his shell
When I set eyes on my goal, I can walk straight into hell!
Even your light can't shine through this smoke
Do me a favour, make like Julius and choke
I have nothing, and all you had is gone
So no matter what happens, I have already won."
Reinhard’s hand clenches around his sheathed sword, but he cannot draw it. His divine protections are faltering in the face of Pride’s epic beats.
Even his background track, when it starts up again, sounds hurried and desperate.
"I—you’re talking about winning, but really you’re in deep
chasing after someone you know you’ll never keep.
What’s your goal? Your aim? Your drive?
You’re pining for a girl who doesn’t know you’re alive.
And her name—what was it? Remind a fella?
Was it Lia? Emilia? Or maybe Satella?
That’s right, you don’t know!
What a great motivator, as you die to foe after foe!
You’re crazy. You’re insane. You’re right, you have nothing.
Your mind is fractured. You’re practically frothing.
You’re truly a madman—you’re pathetic and broken.
You act like you’re gloating, but your boasts are only token."
Pride laughs, loud and clear. The flames roar around him in a dramatic crescendo as he goes in for the killing blow.
"Good Lord, dear Reinhard
You look a little sad
Can I offer you a drink?
Oops, my bad.
You're outclassed!
Your rhymes are weak, your words are stale
Listening to you makes me wish for the Whale
And you talk a big game about me and how I pine
But if your only goal's to stop me, then your life will end with mine
I destroyed the kingdom, they don’t even know my name
You had every advantage and you still lost my game
The survivors of the fire have a story to tell
About the Bishop who dragged the Saint down to hell."
The fires calm momentarily. Reinhard Van Astrea’s Divine Protection Of Rap-Battle Related Semi-Omniscience and Superiority , as ultimate as it is, is still not enough to defeat Pride.
Reinhard’s Divine Protection Of Rap-Battle Related Semi-Omniscience and Superiority crumbles and shatters, utterly destroyed by Natsuki Subaru, who laughs maniacally and gleefully—he alone realises the significance of this moment.
Unfortunately for Subaru, the breaking of the ultimate form of Reinhard’s Divine Protections means that Reinhard is once again capable of slapping him out of the Earth’s atmosphere and into the sun. This is what Reinhard does.
Natsuki Subaru, Archbishop of Pride, flies through the air. The friction turns him into a ball of flame—almost as hot as his sick beats. His final words, shrieked as he flies at approximately thirty-three times the speed of sound, are “ I STILL WON!”