The wine tasted like glory… yet the bitter aftertaste of war still lingered on his tongue.
The food was plentiful, the applause sounded genuine. Everything seemed worthy of a celebration for the man who had slain the Demon King.
Takao Ryonosuke smiled, surrounded by nobles who had never once drawn a sword. He smiled… because that was what was expected of him.
A blonde girl made her way through the crowd. Perhaps the only sincere soul in that grand hall of masks.
"Well, look who we have here… little Ada, my favorite assistant," he said, with a warmth he rarely let show.
"Takao-sensei! I wanted to fight by your side!"
He knelt down and tousled her hair like a proud father. She couldn't have been more than ten, but her eyes already burned with a determination most adults could only pretend to have.
"Focus on your studies. When you grow up and get strong, you can come with me on my next mission."
"What kind of mission? Demon hunting?"
"No, now that they've lost their king, they're no longer a threat."
"This time, the enemies will be different… the kind that hide among us."
He paused, then smiled softly.
"But that's a secret. I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"
Ada nodded firmly. Her fists clenched, her smile resolute.
"I promise! I'll be your partner, sensei!"
From his marble throne, the King watched them.
He knew Takao's plans too. They had spoken of them in private—often over maps spread across a table, sealed with words and cups of wine. How to restore balance. How to heal the world.
But the monarch didn't want that future to come.
Because the balance Takao envisioned… had no place for a king.
The goblets rose as the chamberlain announced the royal toast.
King Dorian Luxaris stood, with the solemnity of a man bearing the weight of a nation on his shoulders.
"Takao Ryonosuke," he proclaimed in a steady voice. "Hero of the realm, savior of the world—may his name live on forever, and his example guide the generations to come."
A thunder of applause erupted. Takao raised his glass, smiled… and drank.
At that moment, the King did not meet his eyes.
He only watched the wine swirl and vanish—like a bothersome flame being quietly snuffed out.
A hero who lives too long… becomes a dangerous symbol.
One who cannot be controlled… sparks fires that must not be lit.
Takao took a deep breath. For a second, everything felt normal.
Then the color drained from his face.
His fingers loosened. The goblet fell and shattered against the marble floor, fragments scattering.
The nobles glanced at each other in disbelief.
"Are you alright, hero?"
Takao dropped to his knees.
His lips moved, but no sound came. The paralysis was precise. No wasted convulsions—only the slow collapse of a man who had given everything… and was silenced by the very order he had defended.
Poison…?
Did they poison me…?
Why…?
Why would they do this to me…?
I saved them.
I brought peace and prosperity to this world…
The hall remained silent.
From his throne, the King did not look away.
"The Demon King's curse… still lingers in his blood!" he declared, feigning horror.
We cannot allow idealists to rewrite the rules.
The people need martyrs, not revolutionaries.
Then—darkness.
Takao Ryonosuke drifted through the void, dimly aware that his body no longer existed.
He felt no cold, no heat. Only the echo of a final question, pulsing like an open wound.
Why did they do this to me…? I only wanted a fairer world.
A voice answered from within the darkness.
"Because you believed you could change a world that didn't want to be changed."
"Humans will do anything to hold on to their power."
"Even if it means killing a son, a father… or, in your case, their savior."
A light flicked on—like a lone spotlight cutting through the darkness.
And then he saw her.
That voice was there, seated at a solitary table, as if partaking in a tea ceremony forgotten by time. Black roses bloomed around her.
Her hair was black as an eclipse. Her eyes, silver and pupil-less, pierced through him without needing to look.
She wasn't beautiful.
She wasn't terrifying.
She was inevitable.
"Who… are you?" he asked.
"Shion. Goddess of Death. Final witness. First judge."
Takao closed his eyes—not out of fear, but exhaustion.
"So I'm dead, then?"
"Yes. You have died—the inevitable fate of all living things."
She took a delicate sip of her tea, as if her answer required no flourish.
"This is where it's decided—whether your soul disappears… or moves on to the next cycle."
She rose with grace.
Stepping forward slowly, she began to circle him—like a judge examining the soul of the condemned.
Or a predator studying its sleeping prey.
Takao watched her, puzzled.
"What… do you want from me?"
Shion leaned in. And without warning, she licked his cheek—like a hunter tasting its quarry.
"Your soul is exquisite. I'd love to keep it in my personal collection…" she whispered, almost sweetly.
"But the truth is, you're far more useful to me alive than dead."
She showed him images—fragments of his life: the battles, the demons, the armies, the dead.
The souls he had claimed...
"Throughout your life, without even knowing it, you've offered me many souls."
"So—I'll grant your wish."
She extended her hand, and upon her palm hovered a single black lotus flower.
"I will allow you to reincarnate, to keep your hero's powers… and I'll give you something more."
She leaned in, so close her voice was a cold breath in his ear.
"But in return, I want you to keep harvesting impure souls."
She stepped back.
"Do you accept?"
Takao Ryonosuke died in a golden hall…
And Phantom awoke in the filth of a rotting world.