Toki slowly opened his eyes.
Once again, he found himself seated on the throne within the Palace of Mirrors. A vast expanse of darkness surrounded him—one defined not by absence, but by depth. The eternal crimson moon floated high above the dome of skyless night, casting its pale light over the black glass floor. The familiar fog, cold and dense like forgotten memories, swirled at his feet.
It had become routine now. After each battle, he awoke here.
In his sanctuary.
His world.
A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers brushed the cool surface of the obsidian table beside him. "I suppose," he murmured to himself, "it's not so bad being a god… of a realm that bends to my will."
He exhaled slowly, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. "It is… pleasant, having a place like this to rest. Even if only for a moment."
Raising his right hand, he spoke clearly into the silence. "Moonlight, you may enter."
The grand, towering doors to the throne room creaked open in response, unveiling the graceful silhouette of the goddess herself— She stepped forward slowly, her black robes flowing like smoke, the glow of the moon dancing along the curve of her hair.
"The first time you've invited me in willingly," she said with an amused smile. "How flattering. And if I may say… your combat strategy was impressively calculated. Not bad at all, for a First Phase knight."
Toki inclined his head. "Take a seat. Since becoming the successor of the Red Priest, we haven't had much chance to speak under normal circumstances. I won't ask you anything about the Red Priest, or about the one who created this realm. Let's talk… about us."
As he spoke, the seat beside his throne glided smoothly to the side, clearing space for her.
Moonlight raised a brow, intrigued, but obliged. As she settled into the seat, her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "You're becoming bold for a disciple. But you do remind me, in a strange way, of the Red Priest."
Toki folded his hands in his lap. "You once told me that 'Moonlight' is the name humans gave you. But since we're likely to interact quite often from here on… I'd like to know your real name."
The goddess chuckled softly and rested a hand on the ceremonial spade she always carried. "You're direct. I admire that. If you really want to know… you may call me Sephira. Goddess of the Moon. Of Death. And of Darkness."
Toki gave a small nod of appreciation. "A beautiful name. It suits you."
"You're surprisingly gracious today," Sephira teased. "I assume you have more questions?"
"Only if you're willing."
"I did say this is your domain. Ask away, host."
Toki's expression turned serious. "If you are truly the Goddess of Death… then clarify something for me. Ascension to divinity begins with obtaining a Manacor, correct? But if the members of the Order all carry Manacors, why am I the only one who returns in time upon death? And… why have I heard of others possessing something 'authoritys'?"
Sephira's expression softened into something between amusement and nostalgia. "What the members of churches and organizations possess are not true Manacors. They're fragments. Slivers of divine essence. You, however… you received something more. A half-Manacor—something far closer to a true divine vessel. What you carry is not merely a shard. It's a divine blessing."
She leaned forward slightly. "The purpose of the Manacor is to allow gods to reincarnate into mortal vessels. A few centuries ago, I found a powerful woman, worthy of becoming my vessel. You mortals know her as the Witch who ended the Age of Witches. The process of reincarnation had nearly finished. Her ability to drain life from everything around her accelerated it."
Toki's eyes widened slightly.
"But the Red Priest defeated her before the process could be completed. As a result, half of my Manacor remained within her body. Most likely, he extracted it afterward… and passed it to you."
She tilted her head. "You, Toki, quite literally stole my blessing. That's why the world cannot perceive your death. With half of my Manacor inside you, the world rewinds rather than letting you perish."
Toki crossed his arms, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "So then… do you plan to reincarnate into me?"
Sephira let out a laugh—genuine, light, strangely human. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. My titles as Goddess of Death and Darkness are… borrowed. My true nature is bound to the Moon alone."
Toki frowned. "Borrowed? What do you mean?"
Her tone turned wistful. "Long ago, I had a son. He was the Angel of Death. The rightful bearer of the Manacor of Death. During the War of the Five Emperors, his body and soul were separated. His body was hidden somewhere in the world. His soul… vanished among humanity. Most likely, he still lives, Preparing."
She paused before continuing. "The authority over darkness belonged to the one who created this place. Then it passed to the Red Priest. Now… it's yours. That's why you resonate so strongly with the Division of Darkness."
Toki looked down at his hands, fingers flexing slightly. "So that's why…"
"You carry layers of meaning inside you, Toki. Death. Darkness. Fear. All of them coexist. ."
He looked up at her, his voice quiet. "Forgive me if my questions seemed too personal."
Sephira waved a hand dismissively. "No need. You've earned the right to ask. And besides…" Her eyes shimmered faintly. "You've carried my shadow further than even I expected."
A long silence passed between them. The throne room, ever still, seemed to breathe with their shared presence.
Then Toki leaned back slightly. "Sephira… do you ever regret it? Not reincarnating fully?"
She smiled. Not with joy—but with the calmness of eternity. "Sometimes. But seeing how you've grown… I think perhaps this form of existence has its own meaning."
The red moon continued to shine.
And the fog danced, whispering secrets to no one.
Their conversation was far from over
The room dimmed under Sephira's faint glow, her form half-shrouded in smoke, like a phantom lingering beyond the veil. Toki stood at the base of the throne, his expression unreadable as he reached beneath his long sleeve.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, he revealed a playing card—the one he had obtained after the battle: The Dark Puppeteer. The edges shimmered with that same eerie glint he had seen during the moment of its acquisition. Without a word, he placed it on the stone table before him.
The throne hall responded.
A ripple spread through the surface, and the central altar lit up faintly. With a light touch of Toki's fingers on the table's edge, the remaining deck emerged—26 cards floating like leaves in still water, now accompanied by the new one.
"Now they are twenty-seven," Sephira said, her voice both amused and affectionate. "Bravo. At this pace, you may just find them all."
Her eyes glinted as she stepped closer, the mists parting around her bare feet. "Each card contains a fragment of a Division's power—sealed within by the Red Priest. You're starting to understand how they work."
Toki glanced at the cards, each etched with ancient symbols and veiled meanings. "I can't deny it," he muttered. "This place... this deck—they're undeniable advantages. But I'm still a long way from mastering them."
"You will," Sephira replied, leaning against the throne's armrest. "But only if you continue to survive."
He gave a half-smile, faint and fleeting. "I don't intend to die anytime soon."
Sephira tilted her head, curious. "Then what do you intend to do now?"
Toki's fingers rested lightly on the back of the Puppeteer card. "Advance through the phases. Get stronger. Learn more about the Divisions and the gods behind them. I'll use whatever is at my disposal to achieve my goals."
He paused, then looked up at her, sincere. "Thank you for your help."
Her reply was soft, but held an edge of mystery. "It's nothing. I'll be watching your every move, My Black Knight."
And like that, she vanished into mist, her body disintegrating into silver vapor.
The throne room remained quiet, filled with the faint pulse of arcane light. Toki exhaled slowly and leaned back on the throne once more, letting the stillness settle into him. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the throne was gone. The room of mirrors was gone.
The morning sun pierced through his eyelids. Toki winced slightly as the light hit his face, warm and golden.
He sat up slowly on the bed—real, now—and saw Bernard, Ozvold, Mr. Smith, and Utsuki gathered near him. Relief washed over their expressions at the sight of him waking.
"Took you long enough," Bernard said, crossing his arms, but his smile betrayed his concern. "We were about to start placing bets."
"I was dreaming," Toki replied hoarsely.
Mr. Smith stepped forward. "If you can stand, Captain, I'd like to show you something."
"Captain?" Toki raised a brow.
"You're not going to argue the title again, are you?" Ozvold said,. You're our Fourth Division leader now."
Toki exhaled and pulled himself up from the bed. "Fine. Lead the way, Mr. Smith."
They walked down the corridor, the air cooler than usual, filled with a sterile scent. Mr. Smith pushed open the door to the autopsy chamber—a place most tried to avoid.
On the metal table lay the body of the Puppeteer, his limbs now lifeless, his mask shattered and set beside his head.
Toki stepped closer, lips pressed in a firm line.
Mr. Smith gently turned the corpse's head, revealing a lotus-shaped marking etched behind the ear.
Toki's eyes widened. "That's the same as... the woman in the alley."
"Exactly," Smith confirmed. "The same cult symbol. My analysis suggests he was part of that sect."
Ozvold let out a low whistle. "Lovely. One more cult crawling out of the shadows."
"But that's not the real problem," Smith added. "No one outside the Order should've known about the ritual."
Bernard's tone turned cold. "Which means someone close to Toki leaked the information."
Toki's mind spun, recalling the moments leading up to the ritual—every whisper, every glance. Who had known the exact time and location?
"I was careful," he said slowly. "Only a few were informed..."
"Someone didn't need to be informed," Mr. Smith said grimly. "They just had to be watching. Or listening."
Ozvold nodded. "It could be anyone. Even someone pretending to be on our side."
Toki stared at the lotus mark again. "Then we're being watched. Tracked."
Smith pulled the sheet back over the corpse. "We'll start tracing every lead. But in the meantime, you have a more immediate task."
"What's that?"
"Starting your command officially."
Toki blinked. "You mean today?"
Bernard shrugged. "No time like the present. The Fourth Division's waiting."
Toki hesitated. "Where are Utsuki, Elizabeth, and the children?"
"They're safe," Bernard said. "Staying at Lady Elizabeth's estate for now."
Toki's shoulders eased slightly. "Good. I needed to hear that."
He took one last glance at the corpse of the man he had defeated, then turned toward the hallway, a new sense of purpose in his stride.
There were more enemies. More secrets. And more cards to uncover.
But for now, he would lead.
The game was far from over.