Kagetsu stood still beneath the weight of the darkened sky, the silence of his presence louder than thunder. For once, his grin had vanished. The familiar, haunting laughter was gone. He simply stared into the abyss beyond the horizon, the place where Ayane had fallen. Something had shifted within him. Not enough to redeem, not enough to forgive—but enough to make the gods tremble.
Ayane had stirred something buried deep in the monster's soul. A ghost of remembrance. A sliver of something human, long forgotten. But now she was gone, her body shattered and her soul scattered across realms. Kagetsu, the Eternal Jester, no longer wore mirth like a second skin. He had not forgotten why he was unsealed. His mission remained unchanged.
He would break this world.
And this time, there would be no laughter.
The gods, once aloof and silent in theirshimmering realm, now paced with unease. Ayane had been their secret weapon. She had failed. What chance did they have now? The very laws of their divine hierarchy forbade further interference. To break those laws was to defy their nature, to risk unraveling the delicate threads that held their plane together.
But desperation has a scent, and it was thick in the air of the heavens.
"They are running out of time," whispered one of the elder gods, cloaked in sunfire.
"He grows stronger. Each act of despair, each soul broken in his wake feeds him. He is no longer a man. He is the calamity itself," another replied, her eyes filled with divine dread.
And then one among them, a lower god—barely acknowledged in council—spoke out.
"There is one more path. A path we swore never to tread."
Silence fell. Every gaze turned to him.
"We summon heroes," he continued, "from the realm beyond. From the mortal world before this one."
Blasphemy.
To break the veil between worlds was an unforgivable act. To steal mortals from their lives, to thrust them into a war they had no part in—was an echo of the cruelty Kagetsu himself inflicted.
But what choice remained?
They gathered at the Celestial Mirror, channeling the forbidden rites. Lightning screamed through the void. Space warped, time bled. And from the other side—three souls were pulled into existence.
Two men and one woman.
The first man hit the ground on one knee, instinctively gripping the hilt of the sword that had not yet been handed to him. His name was Ryoma. A swordsman from a forgotten world, built by conflict and tempered by endless war. He asked no questions. His eyes searched for an enemy.
The second man, Kuro, stood tall, arms crossed and unreadable. He was leaner, quicker. He had once been an assassin, now torn from a quiet life of peace. His silence was more lethal than any blade.
And then there was her.
The woman collapsed, clutching her head, her breath ragged. Her name was Sera, and she had been a healer—a nurse in a peaceful city that no longer existed. She had known kindness. She had known family. And now she stood in a world that demanded she heal wounds torn open by gods.
"No... this isn't right," she whispered. "We didn't ask for this."
She turned to the celestial beings who stood above them in shimmering forms. "You had no right!"
The gods did not answer. They never did.
Tears filled her eyes, but she stood nonetheless. Power had been forced into her veins, against her will. Her healing aura shimmered like moonlight, wrapping her like a fragile shield.
"You can't make us fight your battles," she said again, trembling.
And yet, the battlefield had already been drawn. Kagetsu had begun his descent once more.
From the highest peak of the Ruined Continent, he surveyed the lands below. His slicked-back white hair danced in the wind, untouched by the decay that surrounded him. The mask he wore—the cracked, smiling visage—reflected the storms in the sky. He sensed the ripples in the fabric of the world.
New players had arrived.
But he did not laugh.
Instead, he spoke a single word to the wind, cold and without expression.
"Summoned."
He turned away, cloak swirling like shadows themselves, and vanished into the storm.
The gods watched the trio, placing false hope in their summoned champions. But they already knew. This was no longer a battle between mortals and evil. This was a countdown.
The world had no more time.
To Be Continued...