Akitsu Shouga opened his eyes.

  Darkness greeted him first—endless, heavy, familiar.

  Then the red island came into focus.

  A small stretch of land, no wider than a courtyard, floating in an infinite black void. In the center stood the red cherry blossom tree, its branches unmoving, its petals eternally suspended between falling and not falling. Around the island, on top of the black water, exactly eighty-four red cherry blossom petals drifted in slow, silent circles.

  Eighty-four.

  Akitsu felt his chest tighten.

  Hovering slightly above the water were countless red doors, each one different in shape, height, and texture, yet all unmistakably the same color of dried blood.

  On the right side of the island stood the humanoid demon.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Akitsu’s legs gave out.

  He collapsed to his knees, palms pressing into the cold red soil. His shoulders shook—not violently, not dramatically—just enough to show that something inside him was breaking apart again.

  “…I’m back here,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Again. And again. And again.”

  His voice cracked.

  “Why can’t it just end?”

  The demon tilted its head, expression unreadable.

  “There is a way,” it said smoothly. “You already know it.”

  Akitsu laughed weakly. “Give you my whole soul.”

  “Yes.”

  Akitsu lifted his head slowly. His eyes were tired—not angry, not afraid. Just exhausted.

  “…Is that why you wanted it?” he asked. “From the beginning?”

  The demon was silent for a moment.

  Then it sighed.

  “Yes.”

  No pretense. No theatrics.

  “I would have consumed it,” the demon admitted. “And in return, your suffering would have ended far sooner.”

  Akitsu stared at the drifting petals.

  “So you weren't lying,” he said quietly. “About dying less. Succeeding more.”

  “yes,” the demon said. “I do not lie about bargains. Only about intentions.”

  Akitsu let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  “…Thanks,” he said simply. “For being honest now.”

  The demon blinked. “You still refuse?”

  Akitsu pushed himself to his feet.

  “I’ll figure it out on my own,” he said. “Even if it takes everything else.”

  He stepped off the island.

  Black water rippled around his legs as he waded forward, ignoring the cold that crawled into his bones. He stopped in front of a nearby red door and raised his hand.

  Behind him, the demon spoke one last time.

  “…Good luck, Akitsu Shouga.”

  Akitsu smiled—just a little.

  Then he opened the door.

  Silence.

  Then—

  Light.

  Fireflies.

  Mud squelching beneath his boots.

  Akitsu staggered forward as the Firefly Swamp swallowed him whole.

  But something was wrong.

  Too quiet.

  “No…” he muttered.

  There were no voices. No footsteps. No shouting villagers. No Kael. No Seraphine. No Ayaka.

  Not even the Canopy Village assassins.

  Akitsu walked deeper into the swamp, the soft glow of fireflies slowly giving way to shimmering auroras forming overhead. The colors reflected off the dark water, painting the mangroves in shifting blues and greens.

  His breath fogged.

  It was getting cold.

  The mangrove trees thinned—then stopped entirely.

  Ahead lay a perfect circle of barren swamp where nothing grew.

  At its center stood a small shrine.

  And within it—

  A giant blue crystal.

  Akitsu stepped closer, frost creeping across the ground with each footstep. His hands trembled as he brushed away a thin layer of ice.

  Inside the crystal—

  “…Kael.”

  Kael Ardent was frozen in place, eyes closed, expression peaceful, as if asleep. Blue light refracted through his body, distorting his shape.

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  Akitsu’s breath hitched. “No… no, no—”

  A voice drifted through the air behind him.

  “It is futile to escape.”

  Akitsu turned slowly.

  Aurora stood in the swamp water, her body reflecting every color of the auroras above. Her hair flowed like liquid light. Her eyes shimmered with countless hues—and yet they were hollow.

  Empty.

  “No one has ever escaped me,” Aurora said calmly. “Once I take hold… there is no release.”

  Akitsu swallowed.

  “I believe you,” he said honestly.

  Aurora tilted her head.

  “Then why do you still stand?”

  Akitsu clenched his fists. “Because I won’t stop.”

  His voice rose, echoing across the swamp.

  “I’ll find a way even if I have to die thousands of times!”

  Aurora’s lips parted slightly.

  “The others are de—”

  A sonic boom tore through the swamp.

  Akitsu didn’t even have time to scream before something grabbed him and ripped him through the air.

  Trees blurred past. Fireflies scattered in panic. Auroras twisted violently as they fled.

  A bright light burst ahead—

  —and suddenly they were out.

  The Firefly Swamp vanished behind them.

  Akitsu collapsed onto solid ground, coughing violently.

  The figure set him down and stepped back.

  “…You alright?” a familiar voice asked.

  The figure removed his mask.

  Black hair streaked with grey and white. Yellow eyes sharp and alive.

  Lemon perched on his shoulder.

  “…Rhen,” Akitsu breathed.

  Rhen Calder grinned. “You said my name like you weren’t sure.”

  Akitsu stared at him.

  “You— You’re—”

  “Two centuries older than the last time you saw me?” Rhen chuckled. “Yeah. That tracks.”

  Akitsu let out a shaky laugh—then remembered.

  “…Seraphine. Ayaka. Kael.”

  He grabbed Rhen’s arm. “Can you save them?”

  Rhen’s smile faded.

  “…No.”

  Akitsu shook his head. “There has to be a way.”

  “There isn’t,” Rhen said firmly. “Aurora is impossible to kill. Even slow. Even weaken.”

  Lemon spoke softly. “She has the blessing of Mother Nature herself.”

  Akitsu’s grip tightened. “Then I’ll keep dying until—”

  “Stop,” Rhen snapped.

  He placed a hand on Akitsu’s shoulder.

  “If she leaves her territory, she’ll hunt us down. We have to go. Now.”

  Akitsu opened his mouth—

  Rhen crushed an orb in his hand.

  Light engulfed them.

  They reappeared in the ruins of Fiester Kingdom.

  Broken walls. Ash. Silence.

  Akitsu staggered. “What was that?”

  “The Hearthbound life,” Rhen said. “Single-use teleportation. Only takes you somewhere you consider safe.”

  Akitsu turned wildly. “We need to go back!”

  “We can’t,” Rhen said quietly. “they're gone.”

  Akitsu’s breathing became erratic.

  “They’re dead?” he whispered. “You’re sure?”

  “I sensed no one else,” Rhen said. “Only Aurora. And you.”

  Akitsu shook his head.

  “No… no, I can still—”

  He slammed his head against the broken wall.

  Again.

  Rhen grabbed him instantly. “Stop! Dying isn’t worth it!”

  Akitsu laughed bitterly. “You don’t know that.”

  He slumped forward.

  “I’m worthless,” Akitsu whispered. “Everywhere I go, I ruin things. I get people killed.”

  Rhen held him tightly. “That’s not true.”

  “It is,” Akitsu said. “I never save anyone.”

  Rhen was silent for a long moment.

  Then he said softly, “You’re still here.”

  Akitsu looked up.

  “That means your story isn’t over,” Rhen continued. “So get up. Walk forward. And if the world wants to break you again—”

  He smiled grimly.

  “—we’ll break it back.”

  Lemon nodded. “Together.”

  Akitsu wiped his eyes.

  “…Alright.”

  He stood.

  And they began walking—forward, into a future that refused to end.