The black castle lay in ruin. Broken stone pillars jutted out at impossible angles, and the walls were scorched from countless spells. Human soldiers and demons alike lay strewn across the cold floor, their cries long silenced. Blood and ash mingled with the lingering scent of ozone and sulfur, painting the scene with the remnants of war.
In the throne room, the air itself trembled. Streaks of light collided with shadows in a violent dance—brilliant cyan-blue against deep violet. Sparks of magic crackled with every swing, each impact echoing like thunder.
On one side stood the hero: a young man with silver hair slicked back, piercing cyan-blue eyes. His armor, etched with the sigils of light, reflecting the glow of his own magic.
In his hand, a radiant sword hummed with divine energy, its edge slicing through the darkness as though it were paper.
Opposite him, the Demon King loomed. Towering, with dragon-like horns curling from its head, and glowing purple eyes that pierced through the smoke and debris. Shadows clung to its form like living things, absorbing the light around it, twisting the air with an unnatural chill. Every breath it drew seemed to pull the world closer to darkness.
The battle had raged for hours, neither side yielding. Spells collided midair, sending shockwaves that shattered walls and splintered the throne. The hero's sword clashed against the Demon King's clawed gauntlets, leaving trails of burning energy in the air.
"You… will not win," the Demon King growled.
"Your reign ends here," the hero replied. "For the sake of humanity, I will finish this."
A surge of magic erupted as they charged at each other, light and darkness colliding with deafening force. The hero swung his blade in a wide arc, a slash imbued with holy energy meant to pierce through the very essence of the Demon King. Shadows twisted and writhed around the blow, absorbing some of the light, but the strike cut deep nonetheless.
The Demon King staggered but remained upright, claws gripping the stone floor.
"This world… will never belong to humans alone," it hissed, blood trickling from the corner of its mouth.
The hero laughed. "That's where you're wrong."
With one final swing, the hero drove the blade into the Demon King's chest. The shadows screamed, writhing violently, as the purple glow of its eyes flared once, twice… then dimmed.
Time slowed. The castle walls shook. The Demon King fell to its knees, and a darkness unlike anything the world had seen before began to swell within its chest, coalescing into a black vortex of power.
And then, silence.
The hero lowered his sword, victorious, unaware that a fragment of the Demon King's soul had survived. A tiny pulse of darkness, imperceptible to the eye, drifted away from the broken body… carried by the remnants of magic, seeking a new vessel.
Somewhere far away, in an imperial palace in a far away land, a newborn cried for the first time. Her hair was black as midnight, her eyes a shade of violet no human had seen before. In that instant, the Demon King was reborn.
Somewhere far away in the Heavenly Dragon Continent, Tenryuu…
A child was born.
But unlike normal babies, this one didn't cry.
The imperial palace was filled with the scent of incense and warm silk sheets. Golden lanternlight flickered gently against marble walls carved with dragons and saints, bathing the royal chamber in a soft glow. Outside, the capital of Tenryuu celebrated the birth of a new princess with distant fireworks and ringing bells, as if the entire continent itself had been waiting for this moment.
But inside the room in the imperial palace, there was no cry.
No wailing or the sound of an infant crying.
Instead, the infant lay silently in her mother's arms, her small body perfectly still as if she were already aware of the world around her.
The midwives froze.
One of them trembled as she whispered, "Your Majesty…?"
The Empress did not answer, she simply stared down at her child.
The baby's hair was black—pure black, darker than night, like a shadow that did not belong in a family of golden light. Her eyes were even stranger… a deep, unnatural violet, glowing faintly beneath the candlelight.
The Empress, exhausted but smiling faintly, brushed her thumb against the infant's cheek.
"…She's beautiful," she murmured softly, her voice weak but warm. "So quiet… so calm…"
The baby continued staring, unblinking.
A moment later, the doors to the room opened.
A tall man stepped inside.
The aura he carried was overwhelming—an invisible pressure that made even the air feel heavier. He had long blonde hair tied neatly behind him, and piercing blue eyes as sharp as a blade.
The Emperor of Tenryuu, Masayuki Miyamoto.
His gaze locked onto the newborn child.
For a brief moment, the room felt like it had been swallowed by silence itself.
Then, Masayuki approached the bedside.
His expression, usually unreadable and stern, softened ever so slightly. "…So this is our child," he said quietly.
The Empress nodded, her arms tightening protectively around the infant.
"You did well," he said quietly. "…She looks like her mother."
The Emperor held the child up slightly, as if presenting her to the heavens above the palace.
The newborn's purple eyes reflected the candlelight like gemstones.
The Emperor spoke, his voice carrying the authority of a man whose words shaped history. "We should name her after the founder of Tenryuu, the Second Hero of this world."
He paused.
Then spoke the full name with absolute certainty.
"Minato… Minato Miyamoto."