In a space where light bore no shadow, thirty figures sat on pristine chairs that encircled infinity itself. Draped in white robes stitched from stardust, their faces were hidden—intentionally so. Their necks were visible, their presence undeniable.
No sound echoed in that place. There was only thought, projected, and felt like thunder across a quiet sea.
"A mortal will come… to kill us?" one voice rang with disbelief.
"Impossible," another hissed. "We are the gods. We are above fate."
"That which is eternal cannot be slain by that which dies."
Yet doubt flickered like a drop of ink in holy water.
A figure turned slightly. "Reality," he called, "speak. What do you see of this mortal?"
At the far end of the circle, one woman in a robe woven from mirror-light lifted her head. The Goddess of Reality.
"The problem… is that I see nothing."
The silence grew heavy, suffocating.
"Nothing?" someone repeated.
"Not absence," she replied, voice quivering with mystery, "but nonexistence. There is no record of such a being. No thread of fate. No entry in the Akashic Truth. It is as if this mortal—was not born of this world."
"Then let it be settled," said another, standing. "There is no one in existence who can kill us."
The scene shattered.
Beneath a sky of swirling molten clouds, in a circle of black chairs embedded in a volcanic wasteland, twelve dark forms convened. The Lords of Hell. The floor cracked beneath them with each breath. Lava flowed like veins beneath the glass.
"A mortal will come… and destroy us."
"Unforgivable. Impossible."
"If this one bears light, we burn. If this one bears dark, we rot. What is this being?"
A beast-like man slammed his fist. "Release the Seven Sins. Let them drown the world in chaos. If this mortal exists, let him be tested in ruin."
A serpentine woman leaned forward. "Not so fast. Sins are sacred to us. You'd toss our armies in a whisper?"
"If that mortal finds us—we're already dead."
Another figure leaned back, whispering, "If only we had the power of Reality…"
"Then we stand back. And we wait."
Golden light burst across a black void. A book, ancient and regal, opened itself with grace. A brown and gold leather cover bore a single title:
"The Book of Reality."
Its pages turned, glowing.
Names of every soul ever born flickered across its sheets. Prophecies, deaths, fates.
But one name—
Kyota.
—was a blank.
A pulse of confusion shook the void.
"Who are you, Kyota?" the book whispered in a voice ancient as time.
"Why is your name in the structure of this reality—yet there is no record of your beginning?"
The wizard, standing before it, staggered.
"The Book of Reality knows all… yet it does not know him."
"Kyota… just what are you?"
He shut the book with a trembling hand.
"I must protect him. From everything."
And in three realms—heaven, hell, and in the book itself—one question echoed simultaneously:
"Who… and what… are you doing now, Kyota?"
Soft humming.
Kyota strolled down the mountain path, his cloak flapping behind him. The sky was crisp. Birds flitted through trees. Flowers danced in the breeze. At his side, Yuki walked quietly, her steps light but thoughtful.
They reached the village—the one between mountain and river, where childhood once bloomed. The laughter of children, the smell of warm bread, smoke from hearths—peaceful.
Yuki's gaze followed a group of kids playing. Her expression dimmed.
"Kyota," she asked suddenly, "why do we act so… grown up? I mean… the kids here laugh so freely. Why don't we?"
He stopped.
His eyes clouded. "Because… we've seen too much."
"Is it… because of what happened to me?"
Kyota looked at her, wanting to answer everything.
"I… I'll tell you something." He smiled, slightly nervous. "The thing is, I'm from—"
"Kyota! Look!"
A man ran through the village screaming. Blood on his chest. Behind him—black smoke, and demonic roars.
"D-Demons! They've breached the northern wall!"
The man collapsed. Kyota grabbed him. "Stay with me!" But he passed out.
Kyota stood.
He had no weapon.
Yuki summoned her staff. "Kyota, go! I'll—"
But he was already gone, dashing into the heart of the chaos.
Flames ate at home. Villagers screamed. Monsters—serpentine, winged, horned—ripped through the streets.
Kyota's foot slammed into a demon's jaw, snapping it backward. He twisted, dodged claws, and then drove his elbow into another's spine, snapping it in two. Unarmed, bare-fisted, his blows cracked stone and monster alike.
A tail wrapped around his waist—he grabbed it mid-whip and threw the demon into a well.
Blood and ash.
Yuki appeared beside him, unleashing a cascade of ice spears. "Kyota!" she shouted.
"I'm fine!"
A mother sobbed near a fallen son.
Kyota picked up a heavy barrel, smashed a demon's skull with it, and used its remains to shield a child.
From above, a sudden flash of blue and silver—
"RAITO!!" Kyota shouted.
Raito descended, dual swords slicing through enemies like paper. "Tch. I leave for a week and this happens?"
Beside him, Aqua landed, hands glowing with divine water magic. She cast wide-area healing, mending the wounded.
"Kyota!" she called. "Fall back! You're bleeding!"
"Not yet! My parents—!"
"We're here!" came a voice—his father, sword drawn, hair singed, slashing a demon down.
His mother followed, magic bursting from her palms. "Still not tall, are you?" she teased in the middle of the fight.
Yuki laughed mid-spell. "He's still a runt!"
Kyota growled, dodged a claw, and drop-kicked a demon into a wall. "Seriously?! Now?!"
The villagers rallied behind them. Magic, arrows, flames. The monsters slowly fell—one after another.
After the dust cleared, the village stood bruised, but not broken. Dozens were injured—but thanks to Aqua, Yuki, and the other mages, none were dead.
A feast was prepared that night under the open sky.
Kyota sat beside Yuki. Raito and Aqua cuddled nearby.
Kyota's parents wrapped him in a hug. "Still not taller."
"Mom!" he protested.
They looked at Yuki. "You, though—you're growing."
Yuki blushed. "T-Thank you."
Kyota turned red. "She's always taller!"
They laughed.
Villagers approached. "You're just like Ayame—strong and kind."
"No," another said. "Monsters came because Ayame wasn't here."
"But the truth is… monsters came because Kyota wasn't here."
There was silence. Then applause.
Aqua leaned on Raito. "They love you."
Raito smirked. "Of course. I'm irresistible."
Aqua elbowed him. "More like full of yourself."
Yuki nudged Kyota. "Hey."
"Hmm?"
"I've never… felt the care of parents."
He looked at her quietly. "I know how that feels."
Raito stepped in. "How? You got parents."
"Shut up, Raito."
"Just kidding, kid."
Aqua looked at Yuki, gently smiling. "You can see us like your parents, too."
Yuki's eyes shimmered. She smiled. "Thank you… really."
That night, beneath the stars, Kyota and Yuki stood at the bridge beyond the village. Moonlight kissed the river.
Yuki leaned her head on his shoulder. "You were amazing today."
Kyota laughed softly. "You too."
She closed her eyes. "Kyota?"
"Yeah?"
"Even if the whole world forgets me… will you remember?"
He turned to her, eyes intense. "Always."
Their hands met.
Somewhere far away—in a divine white realm, in a volcanic hell, and inside a golden book—
Thirty gods, twelve devils, and a wizard said in unison:
"Kyota… we must know who you are."