Epilogue: The White Field

The sky was wrong.

It didn’t storm. It didn’t thunder.
It just… cracked. Like a mirror.

And through the fractures, nothing poured in colorless, soundless, swallowing the world city by city.

Takamura dragged Sena through the hallway of the school, now half-suspended above a chasm where the courtyard used to be.

Walls blinked like static. Floors rippled underfoot.
The laws of physics were coming undone.

“ He’s killing everything, ” Sena said, clutching her ribs. “ He’s actually—he’s— ”

“ I know! ” Takamura snapped, then steadied himself. “ I know. Just keep moving. ”

Behind them, light devoured the classroom wing. Desks twisted into ash. Voices echoed backward. A piano note played itself, then screamed.

Sena stopped suddenly. “ What’s the point, Takamura? If it’s all ending—why run? ”

Takamura turned to her. His eyes were bloodshot, wild—but full of something stubborn.

“ Because we’re still here. And maybe that’s the only thing that matters. ”

She looked into his face and nodded, tears streaking down through the dust.

They reached the rooftop — or what was left of it. Only a jagged ledge now, overlooking a city dissolving into white.

And there—
Floating above the ruins—
Miko.

Arms outstretched. Hair billowing in anti-gravity.
Eyes closed in bliss.

“ This is the purest form of love, ” his voice echoed through the air.
“ To release the world from itself. ”

Takamura looked at Sena.

“ We have to stop him. ”

She laughed — a bitter, hopeless sound. “ With what? ”

And he answered:
“ With us. ”

They ran toward him — into the unraveling.

The light peeled away reality around them. Concrete fell like sand. Time stopped in stutters. Sound died.

But they moved anyway.

Because even as gods rose and fell,
Even as truth was rewritten—

Takamura and Sena remembered.

They remembered pain. Friendship. Kana’s tears. Miko’s first lie.
And that was enough to resist.

They leapt toward him.

The world ended—

And something else began.

There was no sky. No ground.

Only light.

But not blinding. Not cold.

Just endless, gentle white—like untouched paper.

Sena stirred first. She blinked, then gasped—not from pain, but the absence of it. Her wounds were gone. Her breath was steady. Her hands trembled anyway.

“ …Takamura? ”

“ I’m here. ”

He sat beside her in the field of nothing, gazing out into the blankness.

They were alone. But not dead.

Not yet.

She sat up slowly. “ Did we fail? ”

“ I don’t know. ” He looked at his hand, as if unsure it still belonged to him. “ Maybe. ”

Silence passed. Not heavy. Just… waiting.

Then a voice broke it—soft, distant, familiar.

“ You came too far to die. ”

They both turned.

Miko.

But not the boy they knew. Not the god they feared.
This version of him sat beneath a nonexistent tree, barefoot in the white.
Peaceful. Mortal. Quiet.

Sena stood, rage sparking. “ You—! ”

Takamura held her back. “ No. Look at him. ”

Miko looked up. His eyes weren’t shimmering anymore.

Just tired.

“ I thought ending the world would free it, ” he said.
“ But I couldn’t destroy the memory of it. That’s what you are. ”

He smiled—not cruel, not divine. Just… sad.

“ You remembered. Even as everything else forgot. ”

Sena stared. “ So… this isn’t the afterlife? ”

“ No, ” 

Miko said. “ It’s a blank page. ”

He looked at them.

“ And it’s yours. ”

Then he vanished.

No light. No explosion.

Just… gone.

Takamura and Sena stood in the vastness.

Alone.

And slowly, beneath their feet, color returned.

Grass.

Wind.

A sky.

Not the world they remembered. But not Miko’s dream either.

Something new.

And as the first stars blinked into being above them, Sena whispered:

“ …Let’s not make the same mistakes. ”

Takamura nodded.

And together, they walked forward—
into a world no longer written by gods or monsters—
but by those who remembered.