"Understood, Boss!" Kurumi Tokisaki bowed slightly, then activated her transformation ability. When she raised her head, her black hair had turned silver, adorned with a crescent-shaped hairpin with a small orchid on it.
Her outfit also changed—into a blue songstress dress. Kurumi had transformed into the music Spirit, Miku Izayoi.
"This is truly the perfect stage." Running her hand through the silver hair at her neck, Kurumi smiled with supreme confidence and leaped down from the bridge. Now as Miku Izayoi, she carried the same overwhelming self-assurance in music that Miku herself possessed.
"Angel—Gabriel! I am the King of the Void! Let the whole world hear my song!"
A massive stage appeared in the sky, spreading into the void. That void was, in truth, the spiritual emptiness Kurumi had linked to all of humanity through her power over the Void. In this way, her song could reach directly into the hearts of every human being.
I come from chance...
Like a speck of dust...
Who can see my fragility...
Where did I come from...
And where does my heart belong...
Who calls for me in the next moment...
Though heaven and earth are vast...
The road I walk is steep...
I've seen all the hardships of this world...
The ethereal melody echoed in the depths of every listener's soul. Within each heart, a faint light blossomed. From that glow, silver ribbons like crystal threads rose, wrapping gently around their bodies. Using Miku Izayoi's musical power, Kurumi forcibly drew out the Void within every human.
"Hey, do you hear that? Someone's singing."
"You heard it too? I thought it was a hallucination before dying."
"I hear it too..."
"Yeah... it's in my head. The voice—it's singing inside me!"
At that moment, the sixth wave of infection broke out. A dark radiance spread across the sky. Everyone instinctively closed their eyes, unwilling to witness another round of crystallization.
But moments later, nothing happened. When they opened their eyes, they saw shining silver ribbons encircling their bodies, holding off the gray-silver dust outside. Everyone realized at once—the gray-silver dust was the virus. And just then, the song resumed within their hearts.
How much love do I have left...
How many tears remain...
Let Heaven know...
I will not yield...
A grateful heart...
Thank you for being here...
Accompanying me through life...
Giving me the courage to be myself...
The silver ribbons shimmered and pulsed with the rhythm of the song, wiping away the gray dust of infection. Of course, Kurumi alone could never accomplish this. The song had been empowered by Alaya's suppression field—the silver ribbons and gray dust symbolizing the battle between Alaya and Gaia, using Kurumi as the conduit.
"It's the song of angels! Merciful God, You truly haven't forsaken us!"
People across the world fell to their knees, weeping and praying to the heavens in gratitude.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, those who could see Kurumi directly were overcome with fervent devotion, kneeling and calling out her name as a goddess. Some even dared to pull out their phones and film the miracle unfolding before them.
Just then, the seventh wave of the virus erupted. On the grand celestial stage, Kurumi—brimming with confidence and radiant energy—continued to sing and dance. In Miku Izayoi's form, her desire to perform was unrestrained and dazzling.
A grateful heart...
Thank you, destiny...
Though flowers bloom and fall...
I will still cherish every moment...
A grateful heart...
Thank you for being here...
Accompanying me through life...
Giving me the courage to be myself...
The seventh viral wave was far stronger than before—but so too was Kurumi's song, which rose to its climax. Alaya's suppressive power surged to its peak, countering Gaia's corruption. The virus was once again erased from existence.
"I am the Spirit of Music! I am the King of the Void! Everyone, sing with me—use your hearts to fight the virus!"
A grateful heart...
Thank you, destiny...
Though flowers bloom and fall...
I will still cherish every moment...
Though flowers bloom and fall...
I will still cherish every moment...
The final chorus carried the combined power of humanity's Voids and Alaya's suppression force straight into Mana Ouma's soul. Mana was sealed instantly. Thus ended the first battle between Gaia and Alaya. Half of humanity had perished, and the virus was sealed away for ten years. Neither side was satisfied with the outcome. Without a word, both quietly withdrew into the shadows.
Among all parties involved, only Kurumi Tokisaki truly profited. She had devoured the time of two-fifths of humanity. Kurumi realized that her angel, Zafkiel, had fallen into slumber from overconsumption. Before sleeping, however, Zafkiel left her a message—it was going to evolve. When it awakened again, Kurumi would become the Queen of Spirits.
Half an hour after the viral crisis subsided, national systems began to function again, working to restore order in the aftermath of the Lost Christmas. Meanwhile, atop a skyscraper in Tokyo, a strange scene was unfolding.
"Praise be to the angel who saved the world!"
A group of people knelt before a silver-haired woman dressed in a blue songstress outfit. That woman, of course, was Kurumi in her Miku Izayoi form. Among those bowing were men in military uniforms and political attire—without question, Japan's highest-ranking officials. Only the upper echelons of the nation had the means to locate Kurumi through satellite surveillance.
"Do not thank me. The virus hasn't disappeared—it's merely been sealed away. Ten years from now, it will erupt once again. The Lost Christmas will return." Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, Kurumi let the cool wind brush against her face, her mood uncharacteristically serene.
Half the world's population was dead—but what did that matter to her? All Kurumi desired was to stand upon a grand stage and share her song with the world. Truly, in her Miku Izayoi form, she was the very image of a proud, divine songstress.
From that moment onward, the timeline of this world began to deviate. Kurumi, the butterfly of chaos, would trigger waves of consequence far beyond her imagination.
While Kurumi was at peace, the gathered officials were crushed under the weight of despair. The virus hung over them like a mountain, suffocating and inescapable.
"Please, Angel—save us!" they pleaded again, bowing lower.
"The ones who can save you... are yourselves. The power that resists the virus lies within your own Voids." Kurumi turned around—and among the crowd, she noticed a familiar face.
It was a short-haired man who had appeared in the Guilty Crown storyline—the one with the ability to extract Voids from others, known as the Gravekeeper.
"I grant you the power of the Void. Study it well—it is the key to destroying the virus." Kurumi pointed at him. A beam of silver light entered the man's body. At once, he could sense a mysterious presence within the hearts of those around him—and he realized he could draw it out.
"Thank you for your divine blessing, Angel!" The man—soon to be called the Gravekeeper—cried out in joy, his eyes filled with fanatical devotion. Those surrounding him stared with equal fervor, their admiration turning into envy.
"Oh my... so transformations have a time limit." A white glow flared, and Kurumi's Miku Izayoi form faded, returning her to her true self. The crowd's awe only deepened—their gazes now burned with the belief that they stood before a god.
"For now, may I call you 'Gravekeeper'?" Kurumi folded her hands gracefully, her wine-red eyes gazing kindly at the man she had just empowered, her tone gentle yet commanding.
Miku's personality was proud and domineering, but Kurumi—ever elegant and sly—knew how to balance charm and authority, treating everyone with equal poise.
"Thank you for bestowing me a name, Angel!" the Gravekeeper exclaimed, trembling with joy. The others looked on with jealousy, though the man himself basked in the newfound glory.
"The source of the virus is a girl named Mana Ouma. I ask that you use the power of the Void to forge a sword—a sword capable of slaying the source itself. Please." Kurumi's wine-red eyes shone with sincere light as she looked at them pleadingly. Fired up by her gaze, everyone pounded their chests and swore they would make it happen. And thus, under Kurumi's charming persuasion, GHQ was born.
"Also... since the virus hasn't been destroyed, I won't leave just yet. But... where should I live?" Kurumi tilted her head innocently, a troubled look on her flawless face. The men before her immediately grew excited—her gentle cunning was showing again.
And so, Kurumi moved into GHQ Headquarters, becoming its supreme administrator under the codename Angel. Poor Gai Tsutsugami and Shu Ouma—they had no idea what kind of chaos awaited them.
Kurumi's first order as GHQ's leader was the Project Crown.
What was the Project Crown? It was the creation of a king's sword—a blade meant to strike down the virus's origin. Whoever wielded it would be crowned a true king. Thus, the sword was named The Crown, symbolizing sovereignty itself.
Three years later—inside GHQ Headquarters, two men sat quietly in an elevator...
As the elevator slowly ascended toward the top floor, the two men inside stood in silence. One was General Yan, the commander-in-chief of GHQ. The other man's face was pale and sickly, his hands gripping a phone tightly as though clinging to his last thread of composure. He was the brilliant strategist known in the story as Shuichiro Keido.
"You seem nervous," General Yan remarked with a knowing smile.
"Of course I am! We're going to meet the Angel herself!" Shuichiro blurted, his voice trembling with excitement before he quickly realized his outburst. "Forgive me, that was rude."
"It's fine. I understand perfectly," General Yan chuckled softly. "When I first met the Angel, I was just as nervous. But once you see her, you'll realize all that anxiety was unnecessary. Don't worry—you'll calm down soon enough." He patted Shuichiro's shoulder encouragingly, though his expression carried a hint of amusement—as if he were anticipating the young man's reaction.
Ding... The elevator doors opened with a chime. Shuichiro's legs trembled as he followed General Yan out, his mind completely blank.
"Please, come in," General Yan said, gently knocking on the office door. From within came a soft, melodious voice—graceful, magnetic, and comforting. The sound alone melted away every trace of tension in Shuichiro's heart.
So this is the Angel... how beautiful... he thought as the door opened.
Inside, sitting on a pink carpet, was a young girl dressed in a black-and-white gothic dress. She sat with her legs slightly curled, holding a small plate of cake with both hands. When the two men entered, she looked up and blinked playfully. It was Kurumi Tokisaki—adorable beyond words, in her "Angel" persona.
Shuichiro froze, his mind short-circuiting entirely.
"Would you like to try some?" Kurumi asked sweetly, extending the plate of freshly cut cake toward him. Shuichiro just stared blankly, unable to respond.
"Don't you like cake?" Kurumi lowered her head slightly, feigning disappointment. That single gesture was enough to completely fry Shuichiro's already-overloaded brain. He took the cake awkwardly, not even sure what to do next.
"Don't be so tense," General Yan said, smiling as he sat down and picked up a slice himself. "The Angel is easy to get along with. Just treat her like a normal friend."
Shuichiro glanced at him. General Yan was already eating happily, as though this were a completely ordinary scene.
"So sweet! Angel, you're still the same sweet-tooth as ever," he said with a laugh.
"Sweetness is the highest form of flavor," Kurumi replied cheerfully. "Why not have the President issue a law that all food must include sugar?"
"Please, I beg you—don't ever propose such a dangerous idea," General Yan said, nearly choking on his laughter.
"How disappointing! You won't even grant me this tiny little wish?" Kurumi pouted.
"There's one thing I'll never agree to," he replied good-naturedly. "I wouldn't want Japan to drown in a sugary apocalypse."
Watching the Angel and General Yan banter like old friends, Shuichiro felt the image of the Angel in his mind grow clearer, fuller... and somehow, more divine. The strange thing was, her holiness wasn't diminished by her playful behavior—it only shone brighter.