A sound like wind — but heavier — swept through the darkness. It wasn't wind, not really. It was the breath of the void itself, dragging against existence.
Shinji opened his eyes.
He wasn't on the dungeon floor anymore. The stench of blood was gone, replaced by a sterile cold that cut deeper than any blade. Beneath his bare feet stretched an endless field of black stone, cracked and veined with rivers of molten silver light. The horizon bled upward into an empty sky, fractured like broken glass.
Each breath scraped his lungs. The air was thick, crushing, like invisible weight pressing on every inch of his body.
He dropped to one knee, gasping.
"Wh—what… is this place?"
Hinata's voice drifted from behind him — that same quiet tone, both soothing and terrifying.
"The Void Forge. My domain."
He turned, and there she was — standing effortlessly on the warped ground, her cloak fluttering against a wind that didn't exist. Her hair shimmered like black silk laced with stars.
"Time behaves differently here," she said, her silver eyes cutting through him. "One year in this realm equals two months in your world. Consider this a gift."
Shinji's hand pressed against his chest. His heart thudded slower here — sluggish, unnatural. Every movement felt like wading through deep water.
"Feels more like a curse," he muttered.
Hinata's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Good. You're still capable of sarcasm. You'll need that when your bones start to crack."
He blinked. "…My what—?"
The ground trembled.
Without warning, the gravity around him doubled. Then tripled.
Shinji's body slammed into the black stone, his breath exploding from his lungs. He tried to push up — his muscles screamed. His bones felt like they were splintering under invisible hands. The weight pressed him flat, grinding his cheek into the cold surface.
"What—what is this?!"
Hinata watched, unblinking.
"This is your first lesson, Shinji Amaru. You cannot stand among gods if the air of their realm breaks your spine."
He gritted his teeth, forcing an elbow under him. His arm trembled violently, every tendon stretched to its limit. Sweat — or maybe blood — ran down his temple.
"I… can't…"
"Yes," she said softly, "you can. You just haven't remembered how yet.
The ground cracked beneath him as he pushed harder. His body shook like it was being torn apart from the inside.
Mother's scream.
The door slamming shut.
"An E-rank's life is worth less than a B-rank's gear."
The words burned through his skull.
He roared — a raw, animal sound — and his other hand slammed to the ground. Inch by inch, he lifted himself from the stone, blood dripping from his nose. His vision blurred red.
Hinata's eyes gleamed.
"Better," she murmured. "Now stay standing."
He did — barely. His body quivered like a broken blade in the wind. The pressure made every breath feel like swallowing knives, but he stayed upright.
Hinata began to walk, circling him slowly.
"In this place, your limits mean nothing. Gravity bends to will. Pain bends to faith. You'll learn both before you leave."
Shinji's knees buckled; he caught himself with a shaky grunt. "You… you call this training?"
"No," she said, pausing behind him. "This is surviving what should kill you."
The gravity pulsed again. Shinji's bones screamed. His feet split against the stone, red streaks painting the cracks. But he didn't fall.
Hinata tilted her head, a flicker of approval ghosting across her expression.
"Perhaps," she said, "you won't disappoint me after all."
And as she raised her hand, the black sky fractured further — shards of darkness floating upward like ash.
The real training was about
– Part 2: Blade That Rejects You
Shinji's legs shook as the gravity finally eased—just enough for him to stand without collapsing. His lungs dragged in air like he was breathing molten iron, but he refused to kneel again. Not in front of her.
Hinata raised her hand.
A ripple tore through the void, splitting reality like a seam being forced open. From the tear, something long and metallic drifted out—glinting with a dull, sinister blue.
Azura.
The blade hummed in the air, a low, pulsing vibration that made Shinji's bones ache just hearing it. Its edge shimmered with blood-red runes that were still… breathing? No—pulsing, as if tasting the world around it.
Hinata snapped her fingers.
Azura dropped.
Not onto the ground—onto Shinji.
It crashed against his shoulder with the force of a falling mountain. The weight sent him spiraling into the cracked stone, dust scattering in a violent burst.
"Ghh—!" He barely managed a sound as the sword pinned him, his ribs grinding against the ground.
Hinata's voice drifted lazily above him.
"Pick it up."
Shinji wheezed against the pressure. "You—dropped a boulder—on me."
"A boulder doesn't scream when it drinks blood," she replied. "Azura does. Pick it up.
He groaned, forcing his arm beneath the blade. The moment his fingers brushed the hilt, a cold shock knifed through his veins. His muscles spasmed violently.
"Hhh—!?"
His fingers curled instinctively around the hilt as if possessed… then immediately recoiled as the blade rejected him, sending a jolt through his arm powerful enough to numb it entirely.
Hinata watched, unimpressed.
"Azura only accepts those it deems worthy. Right now, even a dying worm could swing it better than you."
Shinji grit his teeth, anger and humiliation piercing deeper than pain. "Shut… up."
"What was that?"
Her tone sharpened—not threatening, but amused.
Shinji planted his palm against the ground, veins bulging as he strained to lift the blade. His muscles trembled violently. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision.
"It's… just a sword…!" he snarled.
Hinata's voice cut him clean.
"No. It's a sword that hates you."
The weight pulsed — rejecting him again — and Shinji's arm buckled. The blade slammed into the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing out beneath him.
"Try again," she said.
He did.
Again, and again, and again.
Each attempt sent another shock up his arm, stealing more of his strength, more of his breath. Blood leaked from his fingernails as he clawed desperately at the hilt.
He tried to stand.
His legs collapsed.
He tried to lift.
His shoulder dislocated with a sickening crack—then violently popped back into place as the void knitted it together, only to break again under the strain.
Hinata watched without a flicker of pity.
"In your current state," she murmured, "you are weaker than you were alive. Even your fear tasted weak."
Shinji's head snapped up at that.
His eyes were bloodshot, breathing ragged.
"Don't," he growled, "talk like you know anything… about me."
Hinata's gaze sharpened.
There it was—the spark she'd been hunting.
She stepped closer, her shadow falling over him like a second gravity.
"Then prove it."
Shinji's hand, trembling, wrapped around the hilt once more.
This time, he didn't lift with his arm.
He lifted with every failure.
Every scream from his village.
Every betrayal in that dungeon.
Every promise he still owed the dead.
He roared, forcing the blade upward—
And for a moment, Azura stopped resisting.
Just for a breath.
Just long enough for Shinji to swing.
The blade carved a clean arc through the void—
Then the weight snapped back.
A shockwave blasted him off his feet. His back slammed into the ground with enough force to crater the stone. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a red mist.
He didn't move.
Hinata looked down at him, expression unreadable.
"That," she said softly, "was a swing."
A pause.
Then, for the first time, her tone shifted—just slightly—like she was addressing someone who might actually survive.
"Get up, Shinji. The blade didn't kill you. That means it's willing to try again."
Shinji coughed blood, eyes blazing with something feral.
He pushed himself up.
Slowly. Painfully.
But he stood.
– Part3:ApexDevour'sHunger
Shinji's pulse throbbed in his ears, each heartbeat a painful, echoing thud. His arms trembled from forcing Azura to move even once. The blade still hummed in his grip — not welcoming, but no longer rejecting with the same vicious force.
Hinata raised two fingers.
The air behind her tore.
Not cracked.
Not split.
Tore — like flesh being ripped apart.
A ripple of dark mist poured out, condensing, thickening, twisting into a shape that made Shinji's gut clench.
A creature crawled from the fissure.
Thin at first. Then bulking. Its limbs bent backward at unnatural angles, claws dragging across the stone with a screech that made blood bead in Shinji's ears. Its head was amorphous, shifting constantly like a mass of smoke trying to choose a face.
Hinata spoke calmly:
"A Shadowmaw. Weak by demon standards. But more than enough to kill you."
The beast's head snapped toward Shinji instantly, as if drawn to his heartbeat. Its chest expanded with a rattling inhale.
Shinji tightened his grip around Azura.
His hands shook — partly fear, partly exhaustion.
Hinata's voice slithered behind him.
"Don't die. If you do, I'll resurrect you only so I can mock your corpse a second time."
Shinji didn't respond.
He didn't have time.
The demon lunged.
A blur of claws and shadow-mass came crashing toward him with speed that shredded the air. Shinji barely rolled aside; the claws slammed into the stone where his skull had been. The ground cracked like glass.
Shinji scrambled up, raising Azura—
Too slow.
The demon's shoulder hit him full force. He skidded across the stone until his back slammed against an outcropping of black rock. His breath exploded out of him, ribs screaming.
"Move," Hinata said lazily, "unless you want to die identical to last time."
The Shadowmaw screeched and pounced.
Shinji forced his body sideways — barely. Its claws raked across his arm, slicing through skin like wet paper. Blood sprayed across the stone. Azura's runes flickered in response.
The demon struck again, faster than thought.
Shinji blocked with Azura—
Wrong move.
The moment the blade made contact, a shockwave blasted up his arms. His bones rattled. His grip slipped. Azura nearly flew from his hands.
He clenched harder, teeth grinding.
His vision blurred.
The demon loomed again.
Too close.
Its claws arced down—
Shinji ducked under the swing, throwing himself forward with every ounce of strength. Pain roared through his body, but he forced himself under the demon's arm completely, ripping Azura upward in a desperate thrust.
The blade caught in the creature's lower chest.
The demon shrieked — then convulsed violently.
Azura drank.
Its runes pulsed a deep, hungry crimson, the glow flooding the cracks of the blade like veins awakening. The demon's body began to distort, unraveling into tendrils of dark energy.
Shinji staggered back, gripping the hilt tight as the demon collapsed inward, dissolving into a swirling mass of black mist.
Then the mist rushed into him.
His eyes widened.
"No—!?"
The energy hit like a tidal wave, slamming into his chest. His spine arched violently. His mouth tore open in a soundless scream. His veins lit up with burning light beneath his skin — crawling, twisting, consuming.
He wasn't absorbing it.
It was forcing itself inside him.
His muscles convulsed. His vision splintered. His blood felt like it was boiling alive. The hunger surged — a primal, monstrous craving clawing inside his gut, whispering:
More.
More.
More.
Shinji fell to his knees, choking on air that wasn't there.
Hinata watched him with eerie calm.
"That," she murmured, "is Apex Devour."
Shinji gasped as the last of the demon's essence fused into him, searing through muscle and bone, leaving him trembling, drenched in sweat.
He collapsed forward, one hand clawing at the stone.
Hinata stepped beside him, her cloak brushing the ground.
"The more demons you consume," she said, voice quiet but merciless, "the more the hunger grows. Fail to control it… and it will devour you instead."
Shinji didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His breath shook.
His hand trembled.
His veins pulsed with borrowed strength that didn't feel like his own.
But he didn't collapse.
Not fully.
He forced his head up, jaw clenched, eyes blazing faintly with the demon's residual glow.
Hinata's lips curved.
"Good," she whispered. "You survived your first meal."
Shinji's fingers dug into the stone as he spat blood and forced himself upright.
He wasn't the same as before.
And Hinata knew it.
So did he.
– Part4:Lessons inDeath
Shinji's breathing had finally steadied — barely — when Hinata's fingers snapped once.
The Void Forge shifted.
The black stone rippled beneath his feet like disturbed water. The fractured sky dimmed, its cracks pulsing with an eerie heartbeat. Shinji tensed, Azura still trembling faintly in his grip.
"H-Hinata…? What are you—"
"You've strengthened your body," she said, stepping past him, her cloak whispering across the stone. "But your mind is still fragile. A cracked blade cannot cut a god."
She lifted her hand.
The air tore open.
But this time, the rip wasn't darkness.
It was memory.
Color bled outward, seeping into the world like spilled paint. The scent of burning wood punched into Shinji's nose — so real it made his stomach drop.
"No…" he whispered.
The cracked void became a dirt path. A familiar row of houses. Lanterns. Wooden fences. Wind-bells jingling softly.
His village.
Asuka.
Shinji stumbled back a step, eyes wide. "Stop… Stop this—"
"I'm not doing anything," Hinata said. "This is you. Your mind fills the gaps. I merely opened the door."
The village shimmered, alive, breathing.
Then—
A scream shredded the silence.
Shinji froze.
He knew that voice.
He'd known it for thirteen years.
"M-Mother…?"
She appeared at the end of the path, running toward him, hair wild, face streaked with soot. Behind her, houses burst into flame. Shadows crawled over the rooftops — too many legs, too many eyes, too many claws.
His mother's hands reached toward him.
"Shinji! Run!"
Shinji staggered forward instinctively—
And Hinata caught his wrist.
Her grip was cold as death.
"That is not your mother," she said flatly. "It is a memory shaped into a knife. Don't embrace it. Kill it."
Shinji's eyes shook. "I won't kill my mother.
"She's already dead."
The fake mother stumbled closer, her movements twisting — limbs bending wrong, skin bubbling. Her face warped, stretching into a hollow-eyed mask.
A demon wearing his mother's memory like a skin.
The ground split beneath her feet as her spine elongated, sprouting jagged black limbs.
She wasn't running anymore.
She was crawling toward him.
Shinji's breath hitched.
Hinata's voice slid into his ear, quiet and merciless:
"If you freeze now, I'll throw you back into the moment she died. And this time, you won't just watch. You'll hear every breath leave her body."
Shinji's hands clenched around Azura so tightly his knuckles went white.
The demon-mother screeched.
His stomach twisted, but he lifted the blade. Slowly. Shaking.
Hinata watched him, expression unreadable.
"Stop mourning a shadow. Kill it."
The demon charged.
Shinji's scream ripped out of him — part grief, part rage — as he swung Azura in a messy, desperate arc.
The blade cut clean through the demon's chest.
The illusion shattered.
The world dissolved again, smoke peeling back like torn paper. The village warped, melting, reforming—
His sister appeared next.
Then the Escarba Party.
Their silhouettes smirking.
Their hands on the sealed door.
"An E-rank's life is worth less than a B-rank's gear."
Shinji's blood boiled.
One by one, they turned into twisted things — mockeries of what they once were — lunging for him, tearing, biting, screaming.
And one by one, he cut them down.
Every slash of Azura splattered the ground with black blood that sank into the cracks like ink.
Every demon dissolved into dark mist.
Every mist poured into his chest like fire.
Apex Devour roared inside him.
With each kill, Shinji felt less human.
His pupils narrowed.
His nails lengthened.
His heartbeat quickened into something feral.
But he didn't break.
He kept swinging.
Kept killing.
Kept devouring.
Until the last illusion fell and the void restored itself — the cracked sky above him silent once more.
Finally, Shinji collapsed forward, planting Azura into the ground just to stay upright. His chest heaved. His eyes burned with a faint red glow that hadn't been there before.
Hinata stepped in front of him, arms crossed.
"Good," she said softly. "Your fear tastes weaker now."
He looked up at her, exhausted, trembling, but not shattered.
"Why… why do you keep doing this to me…?"
Hinata blinked once.
"Because the world will do worse."
She leaned down slightly, her hair brushing his cheek, voice dropping to a whisper:
"And I will not send another weakling to die for my sins."
– Part 5: The Death of the Old Shinji
Shinji's breath hitched at her words, sharp and uneven. His fingers tightened around Azura's hilt, the blade still buried in the cracked obsidian floor. Sweat dripped from his chin, sizzling when it hit the glowing fissures.
Hinata straightened, her shadow stretching long across the void.
"A year," she murmured. "That's how long you've been here. Do you feel it?"
Shinji blinked hard, his pulse still thundering in his ears. "I… don't know. Everything feels… heavier."
"Not heavier," she corrected. "Different."
With a flick of her wrist, the void quaked.
Shinji braced instinctively — but the tremor wasn't violent. It felt like breath. Like the entire dimension inhaled.
The air thinned.
Then condensed.
Then darkened.
Shinji felt a pulse behind him.
A heartbeat.
His heartbeat — but wrong.
Slow.
Heavy.
Hungry.
He turned.
A silhouette stood only a few steps away.
Same height.
Same build.
Same messy black hair.
Same scar across the brow.
Same torn armor from the dungeon.
Same blood on the chest.
Shinji's blood.
Shinji stared.
The silhouette lifted its head.
It had his face.
But its eyes were hollow black pits, swirling with crimson thread It smiled slowly, the same way Shinji had smiled at his sister the day she put berries in his pockets "for luck."
Except this smile felt like a knife.
Shinji's throat tightened. "…What is that?"
Hinata didn't look at the creature. She watched him instead.
"That is the Shinji who died," she said. "Your weakness. Your fear. Your hesitation. Your self-pity. Your guilt. Everything that held you down."
The shadow-Shinji's jaw cracked open slightly, a dry click echoing across the void.
Shinji tightened his grip on Azura.
Hinata's voice went cold:
"You will kill him. And you will devour him."
Shinji's eyes widened. "Devour—? But he's me!"
"No," she said. "He was you. And I have no use for him."
The shadow-Shinji inhaled sharply — and the sound was like bones grinding together. Then it lunged forward.
Shinji barely had time to yank Azura free before the shadow tackled him.
The force sent him skidding across the stone, back scraping against jagged cracks. He hissed in pain, rolling quickly as shadow-fingers stabbed into the ground where his head had been.
Shinji scrambled to his feet.
The shadow rose too — in the exact same motion. Perfectly mirrored.
Shinji's breath stuttered.
It moved like him.
It fought like him.
It was him.
"Hinata—this isn't fair—!"
"Of course it's not," Hinata replied. "Life never was."
Shinji roared and charged.
His shadow charged too.
Azura clashed against a pitch-black blade — a weapon the shadow had pulled from its own arm, a jagged imitation of Shinji's sword.
Sparks exploded as metal hit metal.
Shinji pushed forward, muscles screaming. His shadow pushed back with identical strength, identical stance, identical desperation.
The strain ripped through Shinji's shoulder.
Weakness.
Hesitation.
Fear.
The shadow fed on it.
Its grin widened grotesquely.
Shinji's knees buckled.
The shadow slammed its forehead into Shinji's nose — a headbutt Shinji himself had used in the dungeon dozens of times. Pain burst across his face. He stumbled back, vision swimming, blood trickling down his lips.
Hinata's voice cut through the haze:
"Stop trying to beat him as you were. Kill him as you are now."
Shinji spat blood, lifting Azura again.
The shadow moved too.
He watched it carefully.
Every twitch.
Every breath.
Every habit.
Every mistake.
"I know you," Shinji muttered. "I know every weakness you have."
The shadow cocked its head, expression twisting.
Shinji lowered his stance — the stance Hinata drilled into him for months — not the one he used to rely on.
The stance the old Shinji didn't know.
The shadow hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Shinji moved.
Azura sliced upward in a brutal arc, faster and heavier than any slash the shadow-Shinji had ever learned to anticipate.
The blade carved clean through its ribcage.
The shadow staggered.
For the first time, its expression cracked — not with pain, but with disbelief.
Shinji took one step forward.
Then another.
Then he plunged his hand — glowing with Apex Devour — straight into the shadow's chest.
Dark tendrils snapped around his arm, resisting, clawing, begging.
Shinji growled through his teeth:
"You should have stayed dead."
He devoured it.
The shadow convulsed violently, dissolving into a writhing cloud of black essence that poured into Shinji's body. His bones hummed. His veins burned. The void flickered like a dying flame.
Shinji screamed, every nerve igniting.
Then—
Silence.
The last fragment of the old Shinji sank into him.
The glow faded.
Shinji collapsed to both knees, chest heaving, sweat dripping off his chin.
Hinata approached quietly. Her expression was calmer than he'd ever seen it — almost… proud.
Almost.
"Now," she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You are ready to begin."
Shinji lifted his head.
His eyes glowed a deep, feral red.
Not human.
Not yet demon.
Something in between.
Something born in the void.
Something dangerous.
Something hungry.
The new Shinji.
– Part 6: The True Heir of the Underworld
Hinata's hand rested lightly on Shinji's shoulder. The faint warmth of her touch contrasted sharply with the cold glow in Shinji's new crimson eyes. He lifted his head slowly, the cracks in the obsidian floor reflecting the eerie light in his gaze.
"You are ready," she whispered.
Shinji rose to his feet, Azura hanging loosely in his grip. His breath steadied. His heartbeat calmed. He felt… wrong. Strong. Alive. Dead. Everything at once.
Hinata stepped in front of him, her cloak brushing across the void like spilled ink.
"There is one last test," she said. "One final crucible before I return you to Earth."
Shinji tilted his head slightly. "You said I was ready."
"I did."
Her lips curved into a ghost of a smile.
"But readiness means nothing until death tests it."
She drew a sigil in the air with the tip of her finger. The void trembled. A crack tore open, vertical and deep, glowing with molten red light.
Shinji squinted as heat rolled out — thick, suffocating, like opening a furnace door.
"What is that?"
Hinata's eyes hardened.
"The underworld."
Shinji's brows knitted. "But… Zenny ruled that place. Right?"
Hinata nodded once. "And in his absence, something else rose. Something worse."
A violent tremor shook the rift. A distant roar echoed beyond it — deep, agonized, ancient.
Shinji tightened his grip on Azura.
Hinata continued, voice low:
"When Zenny abandoned the underworld, power pooled without a master. The souls went wild. Their fear condensed. Their agony fused."
Her finger traced downward.
A second roar erupted, louder now, shaking the cracks in the void.
"The Underlord was born from that chaos. A creature made of millions of tormented souls. It devoured everything until the realm itself bowed to it."
Shinji's jaw clenched. "And you want me to kill it."
"No."
Hinata's eyes pierced through him, cold and unblinking.
"I want you to rule after you kill it."
Shinji froze.
Hinata took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying through the void like thunder.
"You want to defeat Zenny? Then take back what he stole. The underworld isn't his. It's yours."
The crack widened violently — a vertical mouth of fire and shadow.
Hinata placed her hand on Shinji's chest.
"For thirteen years, you lived carrying death in your heart. It's time for death to carry you."
Her push was gentle.
But the void obeyed her.
Shinji was hurled backward into the rift.
Heat swallowed him whole.
The Underworld
Shinji staggered as he landed, boots sinking into burning ash. The air tasted of blood and rusted iron. Red lightning streaked the sky, illuminating jagged mountains and rivers of molten bone.
This wasn't a myth.
It wasn't a story.
It was a wound in reality.
Souls drifted like smoke — distorted faces screaming silently, their mouths warped into infinite ovals.
Shinji exhaled slowly.
Azura pulsed in his hand, eager.
A shadow blotted out the sky.
Shinji looked up.
And froze.
A titan towered above him — easily fifty meters tall. Its body was a patchwork of screaming faces, arms, and ribcages melted together. Its head was a hollow skull wreathed in red flame. Every step it took cracked the ground, releasing geysers of souls into the air.
The Underlord.
It saw Shinji.
And all fifty million souls inside it screamed at once.
Shinji lifted Azura, though his voice shook.
"…Alright. Let's dance."
The Underlord charged.
The impact sent a shockwave tearing through the plains. Shinji flew backward, slamming into a spire of bone that shattered on impact.
Pain tore through his ribs — but he didn't fall.
He sprinted forward.
The Underlord swung an arm the size of a collapsing building. Shinji ducked under it, the wind nearly flinging him off his feet. He used the momentum to leap upward, Azura slicing across the demon's arm.
Black blood sprayed like molten tar.
The Underlord shrieked, the sound bending the air.
Souls burst from its wound like fleeing insects.
Apex Devour roared inside Shinji, hungry.
He devoured the escaping souls on instinct — the power rushing into him like liquid fire.
The Underlord froze.
As if it recognized what he'd just done.
Shinji grinned, breath ragged. "Yeah. I eat demons now."
The Underlord hammered both fists into the ground.
A tidal wave of bone spikes erupted outward.
Shinji sprinted across them, weaving between jagged spears, Azura trailing afterimages of blue flame. He leapt onto the demon's forearm, sprinted up its massive torso, and plunged his blade into its skull.
The Underlord screamed — a sound like worlds dying.
Apex Devour erupted from Shinji's chest, tendrils of black energy stabbing into the Underlord's body, ripping souls free in torrents.
The demon convulsed violently.
Souls poured into Shinji — millions — each scream echoing inside him.
Shinji's entire body shook.
His vision blurred.
His bones vibrated.
His heart nearly stopped.
But he held on.
He devoured everything.
Every soul.
Every ounce of strength.
Every piece of dominion the Underlord possessed.
Until nothing remained but silence.
Shinji collapsed to his knees, gasping.
The underworld trembled.
The sky cracked.
Then—
Every drifting soul turned toward him.
Every river of bone flowed toward him.
Every shadow bowed.
A throne of obsidian and skulls rose from the ground beneath him, shaped by the realm itself.
Shinji looked around, stunned.
"What… what is happening?"
A voice echoed through the underworld — the voices of millions speaking as one:
WE HAVE A MASTER.
A burning sigil carved itself into Shinji's chest.
A brand.
A crown.
A curse.
IMMORTALITY GRANTED.
RULERSHIP ACKNOWLEDGED.
Shinji shuddered.
His heart stopped beating.
Then started again — different.
Not alive.
Not dead.
Something in between.
A presence appeared behind him — a familiar scent of lotus and cold wind.
Hinata stepped through a tear in the air, eyes widening slightly as she saw Shinji on the throne.
For the first time since he met her…
She bowed.
"Lord Shinji," she said softly. "The underworld is yours."
Shinji stared at his hands, trembling.
"…So this is the power I need to kill Zenny?"
Hinata's smile was small, almost sad.
"No," she whispered. "This is only the beginning ."