Chapter 58 — Chosen by the Gods

Ren drifted in a void without time or weight.

No wind. No cold. Only a sensation of weightlessness clawing at his chest.

“…What… happened?” he muttered bitterly.

Something about this place felt familiar, as if he had walked these paths of suspended calm before. But before he could piece the memories together, a voice dripping with irony snapped him back.

“You’re dead… again.”

Astral light expanded, and in the blink of an eye Ren found himself lying on soft green grass. Shion’s garden: the same lawn, the same black flowers. The “false sky” above was too clean, too perfect for the world of the living.

“So I failed, huh?” His voice cracked. “Once again, I couldn’t change anything.”

Shion arrived with the inevitability of the immutable. His silhouette was cold, his steps calm, as if studying a work of art in a museum.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, without reproach, as though pointing out the obvious.

“Giving up so soon?”

Ren looked away.

“Didn’t you see it? He tore me apart. I’m dead… again.” He raised his hand, where only a faint, pale flame flickered. “There’s nothing left.”

“A lifetime spent preparing for this moment, and you talk of quitting?” Shion’s words were calm, but sharp. “It seems you’ve let yourself be convinced by his lies.”

The air shifted. Another presence stepped into being. Yuri appeared, solemn, carrying the weight of balance. His face no longer held the old sharpness — instead, the heaviness of an old friend.

“Yukino held you in high regard,” Yuri said plainly. “She believed you could see beyond the storm.”

“Are you here to mock me too?” Ren replied, bitterness lacing his words. “Even Dimensional Cut wasn’t enough to finish that monster.”

“It wasn’t the technique,” Yuri answered. “It was the trust you placed in it, without considering its limits.”

Ren let out a dry laugh.

“Then I’ve been a fool.” He looked up at the false sky. “I spent every year of my life, and still I come back with empty hands.”

“Is that what you believe?” Yuri’s voice rumbled solemnly. “Do you not realize there are those who wait for your return? Who long for your victory… people who entrusted their lives to you.”

With a gesture, the god spread visions before him: Yura holding Yukina, Ada with Luisina, Latina and Sakura in the Schubert mansion, the Sinclairs awaiting in Lumius, even warriors of Yukihana who remembered him as their protector.

“They all believed in you,” Yuri added, “even though you never once allowed yourself to live your own life.”

Ren lowered his head.

“…It’s true. I’ve always been selfish. Ada and Yura told me that more times than I can count.”

Silence. The garden held its breath.
Then, a different light broke through — warm, trembling. A voice soft, maternal:

“We all make mistakes… even gods.”

Ren raised his gaze.

“Lumina…”

The sun goddess walked forward slowly and, against all expectation, knelt before him. Shion and Yuri stiffened, startled. They had never seen one of their own bow.

“Takao… no, Ren Sinclair.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Forgive me for the atrocities committed in my name…”

Ren lowered himself as well, meeting her at the same level.

“It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, or your church. I know gods cannot intervene in mortal affairs…”

He managed a bitter smile.

“In fact, thanks to you, I was able to leave behind my dull life in my old world… and live a one-of-a-kind adventure here.”

Lumina embraced him tightly, sobbing as she never had before.

“I’m so sorry…”

Yuri cleared his throat, uneasy.

“Ahem… I’m glad you could finally meet. Lumina has waited centuries to see you again.”

“But there’s no time for long reunions,” Shion said gravely. “The clock of the living still ticks on.”

Lumina rose again and wiped her tears.

“Forgive me… I must carry myself better as a goddess. Beyond that…”

She stretched out her hand, and from her palm a small phoenix emerged, glowing with radiant fire.

“I’ll return your blessing… so you can wield Versalles without restraint.”

The phoenix fluttered toward Ren and sank into his chest, merging with him. Warmth coursed through his body, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled — remembering when he first received the Sun’s blessing.

“…Those days…”

Then his expression hardened as he looked at the three gods.

“Thank you… but Versalles alone won’t be enough. And besides… I’m still dead.”

Lumina took his hands gently.

“That’s true. Your victory over Lilith came not just from Versalles, but from your alliance with the Yuki and the Aseina technique. Versalles was never meant to carry one hero alone — it was one of ten weapons I forged for teamwork, not for a single burden.”

“Still, with three blessings, you’ll be able to return,” Shion said.

Ren clenched his fist, determination burning in his eyes.

“Yet…” the goddess of death continued, “your soul has already worn down to a dangerous point.”

“If you go back now, you may be able to defeat Lucifer,” Yuri added. “You carry three blessings now. Something never before seen.”

Lumina’s voice was soft, but heavy with finality.

“You’ll be able to wield the power of Trinity. But… if you use it, your soul will be lost forever.”

“Once you unleash Trinity, you will vanish from existence itself,” Shion declared. “No reincarnation, no return, no second chances.”

“That’s why I wanted you to know,” Lumina lowered her gaze. “You can stop here and rejoin the cycle of rebirth. You won’t remember anything, I promise.”

“The choice is yours,” Shion concluded. “We will not decide the fate of your existence.”

Ren tightened his hands, weighing every word.

“…It’s a price I’m willing to pay. I want a world of peace — even if I never see it. I want my daughters, and the people I love, to live in a better world.”

“You understand there’s no going back? You’ll never see them again,” Yuri said solemnly.

Ren let out a sharp breath.

“Yes, you’ve told me three times already. My answer hasn’t changed. Just send me back.”

The three gods exchanged glances, then nodded.

“Death is inevitable. Cherish each moment as if it were your last,” said Shion — and Ren’s scythe materialized before him.

“The winter is harsh and merciless. The cold teaches us to break our limits,” said Yuri — and Wisteria appeared in the air.

“No matter how dark the night, the sun will always rise. Its light will scatter the shadows,” declared Lumina — and Versalles manifested in a blinding glow.

“Trinity!” the three intoned together.

The weapons vibrated in unison and fused in a radiant flash. From the light emerged a katana with a crimson sheath, a small cannon set into the guard, and the handle of a revolver embedded in its hilt.

“This is Yamato,” Yuri said.

“A weapon capable of slaying even a god and erasing them from existence,” Shion added.

“It carries all of our power… but the fusion won’t last. You have only one chance,” warned Lumina.

Ren grasped the katana with both hands, admiring the crimson gleam.

“…Beautiful.”

“Go get him, tiger,” Yuri smirked, a rare flicker of levity.

Ren bowed deeply before them one last time.

“Thank you for everything. I’ve lived a great life because of you.”

“And thank you for walking your path with integrity. If only humanity could follow your example,” Lumina said, sorrow heavy in her voice.

“It is a shame to lose such a diligent executor, but I thank you for your harvests,” Shion added.

“I would’ve wanted you to join the Yuki. Still… I suppose your descendants will carry on your values,” Yuri said, his awkwardness barely concealing how much he would miss him.

With those final words, Ren vanished from the astral plane and was pulled back into the mortal world.

Lucifer was already withdrawing. Ren was dead — there was no reason to remain. But then… a faint light, born of a single flame, caught his attention.

He turned.

In the snow, Ren began to rise slowly. Crimson and golden fire stitched his wounds closed, like a phoenix reborn from ash, melting the frost at his feet.

The demon turned fully, and when he saw Ren standing once more, his face twisted into a manic smile.

“Who said you could leave, Lucifer?” Ren’s voice rang out, as Yamato materialized in his hand with absolute radiance.

The curtain had risen one last time.