Epilogue

Fifteen Years Later

The broadcast of Channel DF-1 cut smoothly to the Evening Report. The anchor desk, a sleek construction of polished chrome and enchanted crystal, gleamed under the studio lights. A handsome dark-elf in a well-cut blazer adjusted his earpiece, while his orc co-host, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and tie, flicked through his notes on a notepad.

“Good evening, Vyr-Fed,” the dark elf, Cael Varis, said with a charming smile. “Tonight marks the fifteenth anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Blackglass, the official end of what historians now call the War of Curation.”

“And a very good evening from me, Gorik Volsarith,” the orc added, his grin wide and showing off a set of impressively white tusks. “In our headlines tonight: living standards continue to rise across the Dark Federation. Orcish engineers have begun boring a new skyrail tunnel through the Dragonfang Mountains, which is expected to cut travel times to the northern holds by sixty percent. The woodland elf markets have reported record trade profits for the third year in a row. And the old Alliance regions, who still insist on calling modern technology ‘heresy,’ remain… cranky.”

“Cranky indeed, Gorik,” Cael deadpanned. “Meanwhile, the question on everyone’s mind is: what will Queen Evelina and the Crown Princess be wearing to tonight’s anniversary gala?”

The screen split, showing archival footage: King Renji in a formal, dragon-black suit, standing beside Queen Evelina, who wore a gown that had sparked a thousand fashion trends. And beside them, a teenage girl with a warhammer slung over her shoulder like a violin case, smiling with a brightest toothy smile.

The camera cut away, soaring up, up, over the rebuilt capital city, to the magnificent royal penthouse that now crowned the old Bastion. The former watchtower had been converted into a glass garden, and the castle below was now a modern parliamentary building and a public museum, its ancient stones retold with newer, more honest captions.

Inside, a thirty-five-year-old Renji, looking fit and happy, sparred with his fourteen-year-old daughter across an open air veranda. She had her mother’s powerful taurus physique. shoulders like a promise of future strength, and his passionate bright eyes and dark hair.

“You have to actually hit me, Veyra,” Renji teased his daughter, easily dancing back from a sweeping blow from her practice hammer.

“But you keep dodging dad!” she growled, her tail twitching with frustration. “That’s not fair!” she howled as she swung her hammer again for another strike to miss her father.

“It's excellent training,” he said, grinning. “And it's also very funny to see you flustered, you remind me of your mama when we had just met.”

She dropped the warhammer with a huff, and instead, lifted her hands. Mana, dense and terrifyingly powerful, began to gather between them, forming the familiar, complex lattice of draconic script. “AETURNUM DRACONIS! THE WORLD-END ROAR!”

“NOPE,” Renji and Evelina said in perfect, panicked unison. They both slid across the veranda from opposite directions and caught their daughter’s hands, gently but firmly dispersing the spell. Laughter and pure, parental panic mingled in their expressions.

“How do you even know that spell?” Renji panted, his heart trying to escape his chest. “I read about it in Mama’s old diary,” Veyra said, toying with a stray spark of the spell like a cat with a moth. “It didn’t look that hard. I think I have enough mana to cast a smaller version of it.”

Renji and Evelina looked at each other, then they both dropped to their knees and hugged her at once, laughing and crying in the same breath. “You’re a genius,” Evelina said, her voice thick with a mixture of pride and terror.

Their ten-year-old son, Ilya, not to be outdone, let out a war cry and tackled all three of them in a flying hug. “I’m a prodigy too!” he announced, his own small tail flicking. A bell chimed discreetly. A maid poked her head in, looking flustered. “Your Majesty, the lab requires your presence.”

Renji kissed both of his kids on the forehead, then pecked Evelina on the cheek. “Maybe we should consider having a third,” he whispered. “You know, to round out the set.” he said, petting his kids and wife as he made his way away to the lab. Evelina blushed and mooed softly, a sound that was now that of pure affection. Both children mooed back, giggling, as they cuddled her.

Renji took the sleek, mechanical elevator down to the deep labs beneath the castle. There, Gorund stood beside his own son, Korin, and a life-sized mannequin shaped like Renji in his armor. Nith’s consciousness turned the mannequin’s head, its glowing eyes focusing on him. It was his second body, a way for him to work in the labs while still lending Renji his power.

In the center of the room, a ring of runic pylons crackled with contained energy.

“And what exactly am I looking at here Nith?” Asked Renji as he studied the impressive piece of technology in front of him. “We believe we can build a stable gate,” Nith said, his voice buzzing from the mannequin’s speakers. “To your old world. A temporary one. We can go in, out. Borrow their ideas. Bring back the technology here and successfully replicate it to raise the living standards here even further!”

Renji’s smile faltered. “I… my life is here, Nith. I cant just do that, I cant just leave.” “I know,” Nith said gently. “We are not going back to stay. We are going shopping.” he said, trying to sound cheerful to the best of his ability.

Renji snorted despite himself. “Then we go quiet. No names, no headlines. If anyone in that world thinks I’m dead, I stay dead. It’s kinder that way to them, who knows how much time has really passed for them.” he said and sighed as he followed their instructions, they stepped into the ring. Nith’s essence flowed fully back into Renji, the armor sighing into place. The pylons climbed to a high, piercing keen.

“Anchoring to your mind’s spatial map,” Nith said. “Try not to think about any embarrassing adolescent obsessions you might have had as it might affect our coordinates.” The lab’s alarms screamed. A slick, cold, unnatural interference knifed through the stable runes. “Something is inside the weave!” Korin shouted. “It’s hijacking the destination!”

The world inverted with a sickening lurch. Renji and Nith vanished like a coin flicked between realities.

A year had passed back home. In a quiet, sunlit apartment, Aya, Kenta, and Mizuki stood in Renji’s old room. They hadn't cleared it out. They kept it, a shrine of posters, figures, and wall scrolls. They dusted gently, their movements slow and reverent. “He would have loved the new reboot,” Kenta said, his voice thick with sadness, it became a sort of their monthly tradition with Renji’s family, to hold small gatherings, to reminisce and to keep the room clean.

After the accident, Renji’s body was never found, so his family had some hope, that he might have either gotten kidnapped, that anything had happened that had kept their son alive, so until his body was found, the hope that he was still alive would remain with them.

Aya, trying to focus on cleaning, found two taped boxes under his bed. “He never taped boxes.” She opened one, and a sad smile touched her lips. “His old… ninja game merch. From middle school. I wonder what happened to the series? Renji was head overhills for it.”

Elsewhere. Or elsewhen. Renji hit pavement on his knees, in an alley that looked like Tokyo had been eaten by one of its own streets and then been sick. The air was thick, tasting of chemicals and rot. Mana, twisted and polluted, hung in the air like smog. Neon signs in a language he recognized bled like open wounds down the sides of grimy buildings.

“This is Tokyo,” he said, his voice a ragged whisper. “But it’s not.”

“If this is Tokyo of your world then I have some bad news for you,” Nith murmured, his voice tight with alarm as he processed the signage. “Mana toxicity is at apocalyptic levels. Someone did not just summon a god here. They bred one in a lab.”

A horned brute, bigger than any orc he had ever seen, lurched from the shadows. Its eyes were glassy, its breath smelled of carrion, and it swung a club made of a stop sign and a chunk of concrete. Renji lifted his hands, speaking Orcish out of pure instinct. “Stand down! Friend! Help me…”

It roared and charged. Renji dodged, and felt his own power flicker and drain. “This place is eating my mana!” Nith hissed.

And then, three silhouettes dropped from the rain-slicked roofline above. Kunai, shining like silver fangs, hissed through the air. The orc’s head snapped back, and its body toppled. The trio landed in a perfect, silent crouch; three women in sleek, armored bodysuits, with high collars and visored helmets that pulsed with a soft, inner light. They were tactical, not tawdry; lethal, not kind.

The leader, an elegant woman with black hair braided down her back, straightened and flicked the blood from her blade. “Target neutralized,” she said, her voice calm and professional. She flicked a glance at Renji. “You’re not on our mission board.”

A younger, dark-skinned woman beside her tilted her head, her voice laced with amusement. “He’s cute, though. And… wrong. My energy readings are off the charts.”

The third, a blonde with a wild glint in her eye, twirled a kunai. “So, sister,” she said to the leader. “Do we bag him for interrogation? Or buy him a coffee first?” she asked with a cheeky grin as she winked at Renji.

Renji’s stomach dropped into a cold, black void. He knew this vibe. He knew these characters by heart, their names, backstories and their tragic futures.. He had known them since he was fourteen and had pretended to be doing his homework while actually clicking through very questionable choices on his computer.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “It’s… It’s Yabantō Kunoichi. It's Devil-Tokyo. And you're the Kunoichi Unit.”

The leader bowed, a fraction of an inch. “I am Saeko Kurenai,” she said, her eyes narrowing behind her visor. “This is my daughter, Aisha. And my sister, Mika. And you… are in a great deal of trouble.”

Renji looked at Nith in their shared mindscape. Nith looked back.

“Oh, shit,” they said in perfect, horrified unison.

To be Continued