Re:Zero-Starting Life as a Wind Navigator in Another World

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Crusch Karsten clutched her wound with bloodied hands; her breath was labored, her heart pounding rapidly. Clenching her teeth tightly, she gripped her sword tighter, determination shining in her eyes.

This should have been a simple reconnaissance mission. That's why she hadn't brought Felix and Wilhelm. But now, she realized how wrong that decision was; the silence following the action-filled moments was stirring storms within her.

They had encountered the Witch Cult, and at that point, neither side had gained the upper hand. But the battle seemed never-ending. Only she and a Witch Cultist remained.

The Witch Cultist in front of her raised their powerful axe, swinging it down to strike with deathly force.

Crusch intercepted the axe with her sword; their struggle intensified. Each strike revealed Crusch's dwindling strength, barely managing to defend, gasping for air after each move. While resisting powerful attacks, she struggled to defend herself. But deep inside, she was waiting for an opportunity, a gap, a mistake to exploit.

Crusch's eyes gleamed with determination, but her body succumbed to fatigue. Time was racing against her. Each blow weakened her further. Her racing heartbeats accompanied her last efforts in mind. Amidst the escalating battle, she sought opportunities to step forward with her remaining strength.

Crusch couldn't resist the powerful attack in front of her and was thrown back as her sword slipped away. Her body trembled on the ground after a painful collision, struggling to regain balance. But weakness and exhaustion were forcing her down again.

For a moment, she stood still in darkness and silence. She tried to stay upright, leaning on her sword, but her body no longer resisted. The determination in her eyes slowly gave way to acceptance.

Finally, as she knelt down, she whispered quietly, "I'm sorry, Fourier." She felt death approaching and had accepted this truth.

The last light in her eyes was filled with sadness for her loved ones and regrets for things left undone. As her body neared the ground, her last thoughts turned to what she had left behind and what she couldn't do. Now, there was only silence, acceptance, a waiting peace, and the anticipation of her final breath.

But the blow she expected didn't come. All she felt was a breeze; then, the sound of a body hitting the ground. When she opened her eyes, the headless body of the Witch Cultist lay before her.

Crusch looked carefully at the young man in front of her. He seemed about her age. His rare black hair and strange orange-striped attire were immediately striking. But the most striking feature was his eyes. His orange eyes seemed like a bottomless pit. A cold and emotionless expression emanated from them, almost giving an impression of an unattainable human.

Crusch carefully scanned the deep lack of emotion in the young man's gaze, trying to understand what kind of person he was, but she felt both curiosity and unease in an inner conflict.

Crusch sensed an unusual aura around the young man. His posture was cold and carefully calculated. His eyes seemed to see beyond, focusing on things hidden in the depths.

Suddenly, Crusch noticed the danger approaching from behind and warned loudly, "Behind you!"

The young man quickly turned, but he couldn't move fast enough to protect himself from the fireball. He tried to partially shield himself with his arm, but he couldn't evade the attack entirely. Later, he focused on the person approaching him. A member of the Witch Cult was still standing and slowly advancing toward him. The young man's eyes were resolutely fixed on this new threat, filled with composure and attention. His gaze seemed to contain a kind of foresight beyond a mere glance.

Crusch's eyes widened in shock. At first, she thought the young man had escaped the fireball, but upon closer inspection, she saw that one of his arms was badly burned. The smell of burning flesh reached her nostrils.

However, what surprised her was the absence of any signs of pain or indication that he was suffering. He still had that composed, calculated look on his face. His expression seemed to suppress any pain. This left even more questions in Crusch's mind. The young man's sensibility seemed to be beyond the limits of a normal person.

The young man raised his sword, and it was noticeable that the wind intensified around him. A current of air started to gather around the sword, creating a visible yet impactful vortex.

This moment signaled a final clash between two opposing powers. The Witch Cultist and the young man attacked each other. In the midst of the battle, the wind-powered sword found its mark, piercing the Witch Cultist's throat. With swift movements, it severed the head from the body, leaving silence behind. Only the faint breeze disturbed the silence with the enemy's body hitting the ground.

The young man cleaned his sword, now stained with blood, with a calm demeanor. His calmness emitted a different aura from the surroundings, hinting at a deeper and mysterious truth behind the events.

The cold gaze of the young man pierced Crusch, revealing a kind of soul as if laid bare. Although he had saved her, the uncertainty of whether this young man was a friend or a foe intoxicated Crusch's thoughts. She tried to rise with her last strength, struggling in a strenuous effort, but her determination supported her. However, the uncertainty about whether this young man was a friend or an enemy remained a question mark that clouded Crusch's thoughts. His cold gaze seemed to signify not just a physical state but something deeper.

The young man stood silently, watching Crusch's efforts with his characteristic composure. It felt like an invisible boundary and an undiscovered truth stood between them.

Crusch struggled to rise with her last strength, but her body was almost entirely exhausted from blood loss and intense fatigue. She managed to take a step, but her body had surrendered to her. As she collapsed to the ground, she lost consciousness and fainted.

Before losing consciousness, she suddenly noticed a change in the young man's eyes. The previous cold and calculated gaze seemed to transform into a kind of purity and goodness. The change in the young man's eyes created a completely different atmosphere, as if another soul or emotion had emerged within him. Crusch realized that the last thing she saw was this change and that the young man seemed different, then she lost consciousness.

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