Epilogue: Dawn of the First Flame

“Arata—” a soft voice called from below. It was Rin, her eyes reflecting both relief and awe. “The district—it’s safe. You did it. ”

Rin reached him, offering a hand. “What now? ”

Arata took it, the warmth of human connection grounding him more than any fire could. “Now, ” he said softly, “we rebuild. We guard. And when the world challenges us again—we rise, stronger than before. ”

Above, the sun climbed, touching the city in radiant gold. Shadows retreated into the corners, no longer threatening, but serving as reminders of the trials that had forged this new dawn.

Arata closed his eyes briefly, feeling the rhythm of the world, the pulse of life, the quiet promise that courage—true courage—always leaves a mark.

The First Flame was no longer just a power. It was a legacy.

And Arata, the boy who had faced shadows and fire alike, was ready to carry it forward.

He pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady. The air was thick, rich with energy. Every breath filled his lungs with vigor, yet carried a weight that pressed against his body like an invisible tide.

A faint breeze stirred. Curtains of white cloth billowed, revealing an arched balcony beyond.

Arata stepped forward, his heart quickening.

When he reached the balcony, the sight before him stole his breath.

Arata gripped the railing, eyes wide—His throat tightened.

“—Beautiful. ”

For a long moment, he forgot everything else—his confusion, his fear, his doubt. The weight of his old life, of empty days and silent nights, seemed to fall away in the face of this impossible splendor.

A voice, melodic yet firm, rose from behind him.

Heat still hummed in the stone as the arena’s roar dwindled to a hush. Arata’s breath slowed, power ebbing back into the runes along his skin. Between heartbeats, silence gathered—and footsteps approached the balcony.

“You are awake at last. ”

Arata shifted sharply.

A woman stood at the threshold of his chamber. Her hair cascaded like silver silk, shimmering in the light. Her eyes, the blue of a clear summer sky, watched him with calm authority. She wore a gown of white embroidered with faint gold, each movement of the fabric flowing like water.

Arata’s breath caught. For a moment, he almost mistook her for Elyon—but no, this presence was different. Less overwhelming, yet no less commanding.

The woman inclined her head, her voice carrying both grace and certainty.

“I am Selestia. I will be your guide in this city. ”

Arata straightened instinctively, though the marble floor was cool against his bare feet and he wore only the white robe they had wrapped him in after the trial. He scratched the back of his neck, uneasy.

“So—this place, ” he said carefully. “It’s not Heaven, is it? ”

“Chosen—” Arata repeated, exhaling a shaky laugh. “That’s a word I never thought would apply to me. ”

“You underestimate yourself. ” Selestia’s voice was calm, certain. “The very fact that you overcame your shadow proves otherwise. ”

Arata flinched at the memory—the black fire, the twisted sneer of his other self. His hand clenched unconsciously at his side—“—That fight it felt too real. ”

“It was real, ” Selestia said simply. “You cut away the chains of doubt that bound your soul. That flame inside you now—” she gestured lightly toward his chest “—is proof of your awakening. From this moment forward, you are no longer only human. ”

Arata’s throat tightened—No longer only human.

He angled back to the balcony, staring at the gleaming spires. A part of him thrilled at the words, but another part—the quieter, more familiar part—whispered questions he couldn’t ignore.

“If I’m no longer human—then what am I supposed to be? ”

Her words hung in the air like a decree.

Arata’s mouth went dry—Two years—Demons—A war he had never imagined.

“—And if I refuse? ”

Her voice carried no threat, and it was simple truth.

Arata’s chest ached. The thought of going back to that monotony—to endless days of gray—felt heavier than any blade.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the strange, charged air of Caelestia. His heart pounded.

“—No, ” he whispered. “I can’t go back. Not after this. Not after seeing all this. ”

When he opened his eyes, they burned with resolve.

Days later in the world below—and years above in Caelestia,Arata crossed Orvos’s threshold,Dust-silvered shelves. Star-chalk diagrams—And a scholar who traded answers for harder questions.

“I’ll stay. I’ll do it. ”

Days later in the world below and years later in Caelestia, Arata crossed the quiet threshold of Orvos’s library. The scholar waited among dust-silvered shelves and star-chalk diagrams, ready to trade certainty for questions.

Each breath split the image—he could either see or fight, not both.

“Good. Then your training shall begin. ”

Selestia’s footsteps echoed softly as she crossed the chamber, the faint chime of silver ornaments at her waist accompanying each step. She stopped only a few paces from him, her gaze steady.

Selestia’s lips curved faintly, though not quite into a smile. “Heaven, as mortals understand it, does not exist. This is the Axis Realm—a threshold between what is above and what lies below. The city you see before you is Caelestia, seat of preparation for those chosen. ”

Selestia stepped closer, her presence radiating calm authority—“A protector. A blade against the darkness. Two years from now, the mortal world will face an invasion unlike any in its history. Demons and beasts will pour forth, and humanity will falter. You will be their shield—and their hope,”

Selestia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though measuring him.

Draconic Eyes: sight in darkness, range without drop-off, predictive read on motion. Cost: pain/overload; prolonged use degrades performance; social: monstrous look (white iris, crimson slit).

• Lyriel—storm‑schooled duelist; voice like edges.

• Selestia—guide of the balcony; steward of Caelestia.

• Elyon—luminous sovereign; bearer of the pact.

• Caelestia—the city above; time dilation: 1 Earth year = 100 Caelestia years.

• Axis Realm—threshold between worlds.

Selestia regarded him quietly. Then, for the first time, she allowed a true smile to touch her lips.

Arata’s head swiveled at every turn, his mouth hanging slightly open. “This place looks like—like someone mashed together every fantasy RPG I’ve ever played, then polished it until it glowed. ”

“Uh—yeah, ” Arata muttered, scratching the back of his head.

They stepped through an archway, and the city opened in full around them.

Arata froze at the edge of the street, overwhelmed—“It’s,too perfect. Like a painting—No,even a painting,wouldn’t get it right. ”

Arata let out a low whistle. “Yeah, well, compared to Tokyo at rush hour, this feels like stepping into another universe. ”

“You have stepped into another universe, ” Selestia replied evenly.

Arata coughed, cheeks heating—“,Right,Figures,”

Despite the awe shimmering in his eyes, a small grin tugged at his lips. For the first time since the light had swallowed him, he felt the faint stirrings of excitement—like a child opening a door into a new world he’d only ever dreamed about.

The doors loomed before him, carved from crystal that shimmered like frozen starlight. They stood taller than any gate Arata had ever seen, wide enough to admit giants, their surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly as if alive.

A hall stretched beyond—vast and solemn, yet familiar in its shape. A conference chamber. Rows of curved seats rose tier upon tier, encircling a central dais. The marble floor gleamed like a mirror, and above, chandeliers of crystal cast a soft, perpetual glow.

“Never mind. ” He scratched his cheek, embarrassed.

She led him to the dais at the center. As Arata stepped into the open floor, he felt dozens of unseen eyes upon him. The silence carried weight, not oppressive, but expectant.

At the far end of the hall, a figure stood upon the highest tier. Elyon. His wings were folded, his gaze calm, but the sheer gravity of his presence filled the chamber.

Arata’s breath caught, and he’s watching me again.

She raised her voice, each word ringing clear in the hall.

“Two years from now, in the mortal world, the gates will open. Demons and beasts will spill forth. Their hunger will drown cities, their strength will break armies. And humanity—fragile and unprepared—will face its end. ”

Arata stiffened—The words struck like cold steel—“Demons—? Beasts? On Earth? ”

Arata ran a hand through his hair, his pulse thundering. His instincts screamed this was too much—too absurd. Yet Elyon’s gaze, steady from the shadows above, pressed on him like truth itself.

“—Two years, ” he muttered. “There’s no way I could get strong enough in two years. ”

Arata froze—The calculation hit him like a hammer. Centuries—for him—But for his friends—only two years.

His voice cracked. “Then—will I even live long enough to fight? If I spend hundreds of years here, won’t my body—”

“You will not age, ” Selestia said firmly. “The flame within you grants immortality. You will endure, so long as your purpose does. ”

Immortality was no shield—only a covenant. Break the balance, and the First Flame would flicker. Fail the heart’s trial, and even eternity could be unmade.

The words left him breathless—Immortal. A concept so distant it felt impossible to grasp.

Yet beneath the shock, a question burned sharper than all the rest. He clenched his fists, voice low.

“What about my friends? Miharu—the friend from before, the one whose name still ached in him—, Daichi—They’ll wonder where I went. They’ll think I just disappeared. ”

For the first time, Selestia’s expression softened. She reached into her gown and withdrew a cluster of small crystals, glowing faintly with pale light.

“They will not be left in fear. These are amulets of light. In their dreams, they will hear your promise: that you will return in two years. And if danger comes before then, the amulets will blaze, burning away what threatens them. When you return, the crystals will shatter, their purpose fulfilled. ”

Arata stared at the amulets, his chest tight. The thought of Miharu’s worried smile, Daichi’s clumsy jokes—it all felt so distant, yet achingly close.

He drew a sharp breath, then nodded, resolve hardening in his eyes—“—Alright. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it—”

“Then, Arata Renji—let us begin your transformation. ”

The runes on the floor flared to life, golden light sweeping across the hall. The air thickened, humming with ancient power.

Arata swallowed, nerves prickling—“—Transformation? That sounds way more ominous than training—”

The light beneath him blazed brighter, encircling him in radiant fire.

He stood in a circular chamber, its walls carved with spiraling patterns that glowed like constellations. The air was warm, thick with fragrance—something between blooming flowers and fresh rain. Pools of water lined the room, their surfaces glimmering with faint light.

At the center waited Selestia. Around her stood a circle of women—tall, graceful, their beauty sharp as starlight. Their hair shimmered in colors from gold to silver, their gowns flowing like woven light. Their eyes regarded him calmly, without malice, without desire—only purpose.

Arata swallowed hard—“—I really have a bad feeling about this. ”

“That sounds—reassuring and terrifying at the same time, ” Arata muttered.

He blinked—“—Wait, seriously? ”

“You cannot be remade while clinging to what covers you, ” she replied, tone calm but unyielding.

Arata rubbed the back of his neck, heat rushing to his face. “Man, if Daichi ever heard about this, he’d never let me live it down—” With a resigned sigh, he let the robe fall to the marble floor.

The woman stepped back silently, her gown reforming as she returned to her place. Another approached, then another—each embrace sending waves of searing light into him, each one burning deeper, reshaping what he was.

“—This is insane, ” he whispered.

Arata froze, dread crawling down his spine—“—Wait—What do you mean by ‘breaking’? ”

The circle of women moved again—four stepping forward this time, their forms dissolving into pure radiance.

The chamber blazed, light swallowing everything.

Arata clenched his fists, teeth grinding—“—Yeah, I knew this was coming. ”

And then the pain began.

Selestia arched a brow at him, though she did not break her stride. “I will assume that is a mortal idiom of admiration. ”

Selestia pivoted her gaze to him, her tone serene. “Caelestia exists as it was meant to. A city without corruption, built to prepare and protect, not to exploit or consume. Its beauty is not artifice—it is balance—”

Selestia gestured forward, her gown flowing with the breeze—“Come. There is much to see before your instruction begins—”

Selestia raised her hand. The runes answered her touch, glowing brighter, and with a deep, resonant hum the massive doors parted.

Selestia glanced at him, brow arched—“UN? ”

Selestia pivoted to face him, her gown flowing like silver water—“Here, you will hear the truth. Listen well—”

Selestia nodded once—“Yes. And you, Arata Renji, will stand as their shield—That is why you were summoned. ”

Selestia’s expression didn’t change—“You are not regular anymore. The moment you severed your shadow, you proved the flame within you is real—But even flame requires shaping. That is why your training begins here—”

Selestia’s lips curved faintly, almost amused—“Time flows differently here. One year on Earth is a hundred in Caelestia. You will have centuries to prepare while only days pass in your world. ”

Selestia closed her hand, the amulets dissolving into light, and she inclined her head.

Selestia allowed herself a faint smile—“It will be—painful. But necessary—”

Selestia’s voice was serene—“Do not fear. This is the beginning. Your body must be broken and remade, healed in ways you cannot imagine. Every weakness, every wound you carry—even those unseen—will be stripped away. ”

Selestia’s gaze sharpened slightly—“Remove your robe—”

Selestia’s voice cut through the haze—“This is only the first step. Healing—The breaking comes next—”

Selestia’s eyes locked with his, unwavering. “Now we remake you into the body of a warrior. Endure this, Arata Renji—or be consumed by it. ”

Steam curled in the air, carrying the scent of herbs Arata couldn’t name. The chamber beyond the white stone doorway opened into a vast bathhouse, its walls carved with pale marble that glowed softly, its pools filled with water that shimmered like liquid crystal.

“Never mind, ” he muttered quickly, ears heating.

The water rippled invitingly, faint motes of light rising from its surface like fireflies. The warmth radiated even from a distance, seeping into his skin.

Arata stepped inside slowly. The marble floor was smooth beneath his feet, warm as though alive. The moment he sank into the pool, heat wrapped around him—not scalding, but penetrating, soaking into his muscles, his bones.

He let the breath go sharply, tension melting away—“Hah—alright, I’ll admit it. This feels—incredible—”

The water pulsed faintly, glowing brighter where it touched his skin. Every ache left behind by the trial dissolved. Even the faint sting of memories—the shadow’s sneer, the pain of burning alive—seemed to wash away, leaving only clarity.

For a while, he simply floated, staring at the vaulted ceiling where runes shifted lazily like drifting clouds.

When he finally climbed out, a white cloth awaited him, folded neatly upon a marble bench. He picked it up—and froze.

It was a simple wrap, barely long enough to cover him from the waist down.

“—You’ve got to be kidding me, ” he muttered.

Arata pinched the bridge of his nose—“Yeah, comfort for the cloth, maybe. For me? Not so much—”

Still, with a resigned groan, he tied it around his waist. The fabric barely reached his knees, his towering frame making it look more like a towel than proper clothing. His reflection in the polished marble wall was absurd: silver hair spilling across his shoulders, a body sculpted like a warrior’s statue—wrapped in a strip of cloth.

He sighed—“If Miharu ever saw me like this, I’d never live it down. ”

When he stepped back into the chamber, Selestia awaited him. Her expression remained composed, though for a fleeting instant, he thought he saw her eyes flicker with the barest trace of amusement.

“Good. You are ready, ” she said.

Arata grumbled under his breath—“Ready to die of embarrassment, maybe. ”

But despite his complaints, a spark of excitement stirred within him. His body was new, his strength undeniable. The first trial had been agony, but he had endured.

And now, at last, the true training would begin.

Selestia gave him a puzzled look—“Hot—spring? ”

Selestia gestured toward the pool—“Enter. The waters will cleanse what remains of your mortal frailty—When you emerge, you will be clothed for what lies ahead. ”

Selestia’s voice drifted from beyond the curtain—“Those garments are traditional. They allow freedom of movement and comfort for the body you now possess—”