Chapter 2 — The Birth of the Mask

The afternoon sank slowly over Lumius, tinting the fields with hues of ash and faded blood.

The wind carried the scent of damp wood, trampled mud…
and something that didn’t quite belong.

Ren had taken the paths surrounding the Sinclair estate, following small footprints pressed into the damp earth.

They were faint, barely visible—child’s shoes.

Rin usually played near the old apple tree, where the soil was more fertile.
But that place was far.
Too far… for a girl alone.

“Go find Rin. It’s getting late,” his mother had said, not even lifting her eyes from the ledger.

And he had obeyed.
As always.

But something in the air was off.

Ren walked with steady steps, not rushing.
Every stride was measured.
Every sound, recorded.

He was retraining an instinct that had never truly left.

This wasn’t paranoia.

It was certainty.

He returned to the house at a run, chest heaving, hands dust-stained.

“Mother… I can’t find Rin anywhere,” he said, the worry in his voice now plain.

“Don’t worry. She’s probably in the library,” Emilia replied, unmoved, as if her world couldn’t afford cracks.

But before she finished the sentence, Rem jumped to her feet and dashed toward the library.

“I haven’t seen her all afternoon either,” Rei added, frowning.

Rem returned moments later, shaking her head hard.

“She’s not there...”

And with that, the entire house stirred into motion.

Everyone rushed out to the fields, calling her name.

“Rin!”

“Where are you?!”

“Enough games, Rin!” their father shouted, voice trembling between panic and habit.

“Rin! Your brother’s here! Answer me!”

But no voice came back.

Only the silence of the field.

“I’ll notify the authorities!” the father cried, sprinting back toward the house as if a report could scare off tragedy.

Ren didn’t move.

He kept scanning the area. Waited until no one was looking.

“If I’m not mistaken… Rin has water affinity,” he muttered. “She should’ve left a mana trail.”

He looked up toward the apple tree.
His eyes changed.

The irises turned golden—shining bright.

“Mana Sense!”

In that instant, a blue thread rose from the earth.
Delicate as smoke, but firm like a beacon.

It began where Rin always played…
and stretched toward the hills.

Ren followed the trail in silence.

He climbed the slope, attuned to every fluctuation in energy.

Until the thread suddenly vanished.

Something had happened here.
A break in the flow of mana.

He knelt down.

There, in the grass his sister’s ribbon.

Twisted. Dirty. Slightly torn.

There had been resistance.

A brief struggle, maybe.

“Just as I thought… One of the collector’s lackeys took Rin.”

“But don’t worry, little sister… this won’t end here.”

He carefully placed the ribbon in his pocket.
A promise, sealed in silence.

“But why take Rin? She’s the daughter of a noble…”

“If this gets out—”

He looked up.

From the hilltop, he could see the dirt road winding east, toward the merchant city of Urus.
A known hub for slave trafficking.

“What should I do…?”

Calm down, Ren, he told himself, holding his breath.
Don’t rush in. Keep a low profile.

He ran back to the house.

Part of him hoped his father might’ve heard something but deep down, he already knew the truth.

Rin was no longer in Lumius.

When he arrived, he saw his family gathered near one of the village guards.

“I’m telling you, my daughter is too young to go off on her own,” Damian Sinclair insisted, gesturing frantically.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard replied with a shrug. “We have to wait at least twenty-four hours before officially declaring someone ‘missing’ and posting a notice on the board.”

Emilia Sinclair embraced her husband.

“Calm down, dear. Maybe she’s just hiding. Let’s listen to the guard… and wait a little longer.”

Ren stood silently beside his siblings. Watching.
Listening.

The guard gave a half-hearted wave and resumed his patrol, like the disappearance of a little girl was just another bump in the road.

Ren knew the truth. The laziest and most useless guards in all of Cegris were assigned to Lumius.

Because Lumius didn’t matter.
Because being a noble here… was a punishment wrapped in a title.

Emilia turned to her children with a disturbingly serene tone.

“Children, let’s keep looking for Rin. And if any of you runs into trouble… use this,” she said, handing each of them a scroll.

“What’s this, Mom?” asked Rem.

“Escape scroll. Pull the red cord, and it’ll teleport you straight home. It only takes a few seconds.”

“Use it only in case of emergency. They’re very expensive.”

Each of them held their scroll carefully—like it was a family heirloom.

“I’ll go to the Wagners’ place. Rin’s close with their daughters,” said Rei.

“Good. I’m counting on you, son,” the father nodded.

“Then I’ll check the market. She might be buying something there,” Rem added, already sprinting off.

“Be careful, sweetheart!” Emilia called after her.

Ren stared at the scroll in his hands.

No doubt in his eyes. Only calculation.

“I’ll check the forest. Maybe she got lost in the trees.”

“That’s dangerous, Ren,” his mother warned.

“Don’t worry, Mother. I know this land better than anyone. I’ll take my sword, just in case.”

“Alright. I’m counting on you, son,” his father said, without much conviction.

Ren veered toward the barn, slipping away from the group unnoticed.

“I’ll head to city hall. You stay here in case she comes back,” Damian said, kissing Emilia’s forehead before leaving.

“Rin… where are you?” the mother whispered, her voice drenched in a melancholy with no bottom.

Ren crossed the estate, heading for the barn, making sure no one was following him.

He slipped inside and barred the entrance from within.

Then he began moving planks, crates, rusted scrap metal—until he uncovered a wooden trapdoor hidden beneath the dust.

He descended a narrow staircase.

The hidden room below was dimly lit by a small magic light stone embedded in the wall.

Documents. Books. Wanted posters.
A large map covered in red marks.

But Ren didn’t stop to look at any of that.

He walked straight to a small chest made of dark wood.

Burned into its lid was the mark of Shion—the Goddess of Death.
An inverted lotus… weeping a single black tear.

It wasn’t decoration.
It was a sign.
A seal that proved this chest hadn’t ended up here by chance.

Inside, there were two items.

A smooth, unadorned blue mask.
And a sheathed katana wrapped in white, decorated with pale blue flowers—like frozen sakura blossoms.

Ren stared at them in silence.

“I won’t let my sister fall into the hands of this rotten system…”

“I think it’s time.”

He picked up the mask.
With a single motion, he placed it over his face.

In that instant, his clothes transformed.

A navy-blue coat wrapped around him like a second skin—long, fitted, ceremonial.

His brown hair turned white as frost.
At the tips, tiny ice crystals began to form. Brittle. Sharp. Like needles.

The air grew colder with an invisible whisper.

Even without moving, his breath turned to mist.

He reached out with both hands and took the katana.

Its sealed blade vibrated—not with rage, but with a calm, focused intent.

“It’s time to raise the curtain…”

“And let Phantom take center stage.”

With a single slash through the air, he tore open a dark rift—
and vanished into it.