Chapter 0 — The Death of the Sun

The wine tasted divine… but on his tongue, the bitterness of war still lingered.

The banquet was lavish. The applause felt sincere. Everything seemed fitting for the man who had slain the Demon King.

Takao Ryonosuke smiled, surrounded by nobles who had never once drawn a blade.
He smiled—because that’s what was expected of him.

It had been twenty years since he was summoned.

Back then, he’d been just a Japanese teenager who loved anime, video games, and lazy days spent with friends—ripped from his world without warning.

To some, being summoned as a “Hero” would’ve been a miracle.
To Takao… it was a sentence.

In those two decades, he watched his comrades fall one by one. Of the six original heroes summoned by the Kingdom of Solmara, he was the last left standing.

Trained in the eternal frost of Yukihana by a legendary swordswoman, his body and soul had been forged in ice and battle.

He learned magic. Strategy. Politics.

He defeated the Demon King, brought peace to entire regions, and ushered in an era of supposed prosperity for Solmara.

But he was never anything but alone.

No clan.
No family.
No allies.

Just him… and his katana.

There were times he wondered if surviving this long had even been worth it.
Most days, he thought not.

A blonde little girl wove her way through the crowd—perhaps the only genuine soul in that entire hall of masks.

“Well, look who it is… little Ada, my favorite assistant,” he said, warmth flickering in his voice, something he rarely allowed to surface.

“Takao-sensei! I wanted to fight by your side!”

He crouched down and ruffled her hair like a proud father.

She was maybe ten years old, but her eyes already burned with a determination most adults only pretended to have.

“Focus on finishing your studies. When you grow up and become strong, you’ll join me on my next mission.”

“What mission? Fighting more demons?”

“No... now that they’ve lost their king, they’re no longer a threat.”

“This time… the enemies are different. They’re hiding among us.”

He paused, then gave her a soft smile.

“But that’s a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older, alright?”

Ada nodded firmly. Her fists clenched. Her smile unwavering.

“I promise! I’ll be your partner, sensei!”

From his marble throne, the King watched them.

He knew of Takao’s plans. They’d spoken often in private—maps spread across tables, words exchanged over wine. How to restore balance. How to heal the world.

But the king didn’t want that future to come.

Because the balance Takao envisioned… had no place for a king.

Glasses were raised as the royal chamberlain announced the toast.

King Dorian Luxaris stood tall with the solemnity of a man carrying the weight of a nation.

“Takao Ryonosuke,” he declared, voice firm.

“Hero of the realm, savior of our world—may his name live on forever, and may his example guide generations to come.”

A thunder of applause erupted.

Takao lifted his glass, smiled... and drank.

In that moment, the King did not meet his eyes.

He stared instead at the wine’s reflection, watching it drain like a dying flame—one he’d been waiting to extinguish.

A hero who lives too long… becomes a dangerous symbol.

One that cannot be controlled… sparks fires that must never be lit.

Takao took a deep breath. For a moment, everything seemed normal.

Until the color drained from his face.

His fingers loosened.
The glass fell, shattering against the marble, scattering shards across the floor.

The nobles glanced at one another, confused.

“Are you alright, Hero?”

Takao dropped to his knees.

His lips moved, but no sound came.

The paralysis was exact. No wasted twitch. No dramatic spasm.

Just the slow collapse of a man who gave everything… only to be silenced by the very order he’d protected.

Poison...?
Did they poison me…?
Why...?

Why are they doing this to me…?”
I saved them.
I brought peace and prosperity to this world…

The hall remained in silence.
From his throne, the King didn’t avert his gaze.

“The Demon King’s curse… still lingers in his blood!” he declared, feigning horror.

They couldn’t let idealists rewrite the rules.

What the people needed were martyrs, not revolutionaries.

Then—darkness.

Takao Ryonosuke floated in that void, vaguely aware that his body no longer existed.
He felt no warmth, no cold.
Only the echo of a final question pulsing like an open wound:

Why did they do this to me?
All I wanted… was a fairer world.

A voice answered from within the darkness.

“Because you believed you could change a world that didn’t want to be changed.”

“Because humans will do anything to preserve their power.”

“Even if it means killing a son, a father… or, in your case, their own savior.”

A light blinked on, like a lone spotlight in the dark.

And then—he saw her.

The voice belonged to a woman seated at a solitary table, sipping tea as if partaking in a ceremony long forgotten by time.
All around her bloomed black roses.

Her hair was dark as an eclipse.
Her silver, pupil-less eyes pierced him without needing to look.

She wasn’t beautiful.
She wasn’t terrifying.
She was inevitable.

“…Who are you?” he asked.

“Shion. Goddess of Death. Last witness. First judge.”

Takao closed his eyes—not from fear, but exhaustion.

“So… I’m dead.”

“Yes. You have died. The inevitable fate of all living beings.”

She took a sip of her tea, her voice devoid of drama—calm, final.

“Here is where it’s decided. Whether your soul vanishes… or moves on to the next cycle.”

She rose with elegance.
With slow, graceful steps, she circled him—like a judge weighing a soul… or a predator eyeing sleeping prey.

Takao watched her, bewildered.

“What… do you want from me?”

Shion leaned in—and without warning, licked his cheek.
Like a hunter tasting its catch.

“Your soul is exquisite,” she whispered sweetly.

“I’d love to add it to my private collection…”

“But truthfully, you’re far more useful alive than dead.”

She showed him visions—flashes of his life.
Battles. Demons. Armies. Corpses.
The souls he had reaped… unknowingly offered to her.

“Throughout your life, you’ve given me many souls—without even realizing it.”

“So, I’ll grant your wish.”

She extended her hand.
Floating above her palm was a black lotus.

“I will allow you to reincarnate. You’ll retain your powers… and something more.”

She leaned in so close, her voice was a breath of frost against his ear.

“But in return… I want you to keep harvesting impure souls.”

She stepped back.

“Do you accept?”

Takao Ryonosuke died in a golden hall.

Phantom would awaken in the mud of a rotting world.