CHAPTER 236: SURPRISE!

"What the heck?!"

Judge nearly tripped over his own foot, midstream.

He had never, not once in his life, been this genuinely caught off guard by an enemy. And let’s be clear: he was not the kind of guy who got sneak-attacked. If surprises were fish, he was the guy holding the net. Or at least the frying pan.

But this...?

This was different.

It all started with him glancing around and thinking, Huh. Pretty calm for once. No explosions, no secret betrayals, no glowing sky demons trying to monologue at me.

So, like any main character who assumed the camera had stopped rolling for a breather, he did what nature demanded.

He went off to pee.

Behind a tree. Alone and in peace.

Or so he thought.

And just as he sighed in sweet, bladder-relieving bliss, the universe, as always, decided to resume the plot with a payback.

A bush rustled, a twig snapped ...Maybe?

Somewhere in the distance, a violin hit a sinister note. He could swear he heard that.

Judge froze, pants halfway up, eyes wide.

It was then that he remembered — Main characters don’t get

bathroom breaks.

He swatted away a rabbit with all the strength his startled, half-dressed soul could muster.

In his defense, it had leapt out of the bush like a furry little missile, ears flapping like twin harbingers of doom. In its defense... well, there was no defense. The thing exploded on impact.

A sickening splat echoed through the trees.

And just like that, the rabbit was no longer a rabbit. It was modern art. Red paint smeared elegantly across the bark of a very confused tree. The forest went quiet — probably out of respect. Or fear. Or just appreciating the art.

Judge blinked.

"...Oh."

He tilted his head at the Jackson Pollock massacre he’d just committed, wondering if the tree would be in the next Guggenheim show.

"Maybe I used a bit too much strength," he muttered, reaching down to pull up his pants like this was a totally normal Tuesday. A little forest walk, a little homicide.

He tightened the belt like a man who’d learned absolutely nothing."Stupid rabbit," he grumbled, as if it had done something wrong, like sneaking up on a man relieving himself during a false moment of peace.

Somewhere in the forest, fate tripped over its own shoelaces and hit the chaos switch.

Because not even five seconds after the accidental rabbit-splatter incident, the underbrush began to tremble. Trees rustled. Leaves scattered. And then — Rabbits.

Rabbits, so many rabbits.

An ungodly number of them. Not metaphorical.

Not cute... ok maybe a little, but was definitely not fine.

Just wave after wave of twitchy-nosed vengeance, pouring in from every direction like fluffy little stormtroopers with murder in their eyes.

Judge blinked."...What in the Re: Zero am I looking at?!"

They didn’t answer.

Maybe it was due to the fact that they were animals incapable of communicating through talking like true gentlemen.

With zero hesitation and a rising sense of existential panic, Judge drew his sword.

This was no time for dignity.

Because one thing was very, very clear:

No matter how much plot armor he had, if he died here, he wasn’t going back in time. He was going straight to the afterlife — with a tombstone that read:

"Death by rabbits. It was not quick. Nor painless."

And possibly a warning sign beside it: "Do not pee in the woods."

———

Gereon stepped into the assassin’s den.

Well, saying he "stepped inside" was being nice. It was more like he showed up and the cathedral wasn’t ready for him. The big doors swung open like they were trying to get it over with. The stone walls didn’t crack, but they leaned back a little, like, whoa, personal space.

The shadows didn’t creep toward him, they packed up and moved out, probably to a smaller, quieter church.

Even the air seemed to take a step back, like, okay, buddy, you first. Somewhere high above, one of the old wooden beams made a nervous little creak, like it had just remembered an urgent appointment elsewhere.

"Charming little dump," he muttered, scanning the high arches. "Smells like damp leather. Could use fewer idiots hiding in it, though."

A blur of steel lunged from the dark. Gereon tilted his head, time froze, air stopped moving, even dust refused to fall. He walked around the assassin slowly, studying him like a mediocre sculpture.

Alex should’ve been here by now.

That familiar irritation started to simmer. His son, oh, his responsible, capable, always-on-time son, had sworn up and down he’d be here before Gereon arrived. Which meant Alex was either dead, distracted, or doing that thing where he vanished for "reasons" and would come back acting smug about it.

He brushed past the assassin, letting time resume. The man collapsed neatly into two halves.

"Late," Gereon muttered. "Always late."

Another shadow moved behind him. Gereon didn’t turn. The assassin disintegrated into drifting ash before their second step. He flicked the ashes away from his coat with a scowl.

"Not you," he said to the ash. "The other one. The tall, red-haired one who was supposed to be here swinging his sword by now."

Five crossbow bolts whistled through the air. Gereon caught them between two fingers, snapped them in half, and left the shards floating, spinning slowly like a macabre chandelier.

He raised his voice. "Alex! You do remember how to be on time, don’t you? Or was that skill too old-fashioned for you?"

Thirty assassins burst from the walls in perfect formation. Gereon took a single step. A ripple of silver light pulsed from his boot, erasing steel, skin, and bone into fine glitter that fell in silence.

"Pathetic," he sighed. "And still faster than you."

A lone assassin tried to melt into the shadows. Gereon reached into the darkness and pulled him out by his fear, dropping the limp body with casual disinterest.

When it was over, he stood in the middle of the silent ruin, jaw set, eyes fixed on the empty doorway.

"Well," he said to no one in particular, "you missed the whole show, son. Guess the old man still has to do everything himself."

He glanced up at the cracked roof.

"Alex Drakonis... you had better have a very good excuse."