The world healed.
Forests regrew where craters once scarred the land. Rivers found their paths again. Cities rebuilt their towers beneath peaceful skies that no longer burned or bled.
The age of demons ended—not with conquest, but with silence.
And in a small mountain village at the edge of the old temple ruins, a young boy woke each morning to the sound of wind through trees.
Kanji lived there now.
Not as a king.
Not as a legend.
Just as himself.
He helped the monks gather herbs. He fixed broken roofs. He laughed sometimes—quietly, awkwardly—as if still learning how. There were days he felt an ache in his chest he couldn't explain, like something precious had been taken and gently sealed away.
At night, he often looked at the stars.
He didn't know why they felt… familiar.
Rin stayed.
She became a guardian of the region, not by title, but by choice. She trained children, protected travelers, and watched over Kanji with a tenderness that never faded—even when he didn't remember why she mattered so much to him.
Sometimes she caught him staring at the sky.
"Do you like the stars?" she'd ask.
Kanji would smile faintly.
"They feel… kind," he'd say.
"Like old friends I can't quite remember."
High above, unseen and unspoken, the cosmos stirred.
The Thirteen Guardians still watched from beyond the veil, their armor dimmer now, their purpose fulfilled. They spoke his name only in reverence.
The Starborn King chose humanity.
And the universe remembered.
On the anniversary of the final battle, the night sky bloomed with an impossible sight—constellations aligning into a single symbol: a crown of light broken in half.
Monks fell to their knees.
Scholars wept.
Old demons whispered prayers.
Rin stood beside Kanji as the sky shimmered.
He felt warmth spread through his chest.
Not power.
Not destiny.
Peace.
Somewhere, deep beyond time and space, a quiet voice echoed—soft and proud:
"Rest now, my child.
The stars will wait."
Kanji closed his eyes and smiled.
And for the first time since the world was saved…
The universe slept without fear.