Chapter 1: The Crimson Ghost

The execution grounds of Kagetsu were silent.

Rows of condemned criminals knelt in the dirt, hands bound behind their backs. The morning fog clung to the earth like a living thing, swallowing sound as easily as breath.

Among them, one prisoner alone was not trembling.

He sat with his legs crossed, relaxed as though meditating in a temple.

His chains rattled softly with every slow exhale.

Akuma Ren.

A young man with pale silver hair tied loosely behind his neck.

Eyes the color of dried blood.

No fear.

No regret.

Only stillness.

The guards surrounding him avoided his gaze like it carried poison. Even bound, even half-starved, Ren radiated something far more terrifying than violence—

certainty.

A tall man in a dark blue haori stepped forward.

His blade gleamed at his side.

Captain of the Yamibito Executioners: Kuroda Rensui.

“Ren,” he said coldly. “You were sentenced to death for slaughtering Lord Hayaya’s heir. Any last words before your execution?”

Ren opened one eye lazily.

“…Your stance is weak. If you swing like that, my head won’t come off cleanly.”

A few prisoners snorted.

Several guards stepped back in fear.

Kuroda’s jaw tightened.

“You still mock the shogunate?”

“I mock poor swordsmanship,” Ren replied calmly.

The captain raised his hand—

but another voice interrupted:

“Captain. Read the decree.”

Everyone turned as an official unrolled a scarlet scroll edged in gold.

The decree that had changed everything.

The decree that would send them all to the red island.

He cleared his throat and read aloud:

“All condemned criminals shall be offered conditional pardon…”

“…should they retrieve the Crimson Elixir from Akairo Rakuen.”

“Each criminal will be paired with a Yamibito Executioner.”

“Attempt escape, and you die.”

“Refuse the mission, and you die.”

“Kill your executioner, and all others will kill you.”

A heavy silence fell.

The criminals exchanged glances—some hopeful, some horrified, some hiding hatred behind their bowed heads.

Ren remained unmoving.

Kuroda stepped forward again.

“This island is no ordinary land. Those who entered before… became statues. Flesh turned to stone. Mind turned to madness.”

“You will die there,” one guard muttered with fear.

Ren finally lifted his head.

“If I die, I die.

But if Crimson Eden holds the secrets they say…

then he might still be alive.”

The official blinked. “Who?”

Ren did not answer.

He stood on his own, despite his chains.

Kuroda moved swiftly, pressing his blade to Ren’s throat.

“Don’t misunderstand. If you become a threat, I’ll end you.”

Ren met his eyes without blinking.

“Then you’d better cut cleanly.”

For a moment, even the fog held its breath.

Then—

Kuroda lowered his sword.

“Very well. Your execution is postponed. You are now Prisoner Number One.”

A Yamibito stepped behind Ren and gripped the chain around his neck, locking it to a wooden talisman engraved with the shogunate’s crest.

Ren didn’t resist.

He only whispered:

“Crimson Eden… I’m coming.”

---

Later that morning…

The prisoners were lined up on the docks.

Three massive ships waited, their sails dyed a deep scarlet.

The ocean wind smelled of salt and iron.

Ren stood among killers and outcasts:

A giant bandit leader with tattoos crawling across his arms.

A silent priestess with her mouth sewn shut.

A former samurai who lost everything.

A smiling murderer who hummed to himself.

And behind each prisoner stood their executioner—

cold-eyed, steady-handed, ready to kill at any moment.

Kuroda approached Ren once more.

“Before you step onto the ship… answer me this.”

His voice was low, serious.

“Why are you doing this? You never begged for mercy before. Why accept this mission?”

Ren looked out over the red-tinted horizon.

A faint glow shimmered far beyond the waves.

Then he spoke:

“My brother disappeared on that island three years ago.”

“If Crimson Eden took him…”

“…I will tear its heart out and take him back.”

Kuroda stared at him.

And for the first time, Ren saw something like respect in the executioner’s eyes.

“Then survive,” Kuroda said. “Because that island devours hope.”

Ren smirked faintly.

“Good thing I’m not hoping for anything.”

The drums thundered.

The sails unfurled.

The prisoners boarded.

And as the ships pushed off, the eastern horizon pulsed with crimson light—

as though the island itself was opening a single, hungry eye.

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