Epitaffy

Over the graze of a dead phoenix, humanity began to fall apart. Immortals who have lost their immortality, mortals who are losing their lives over the turmoil, and death reaping through every person that perished in it. Until there were none of them left. Humanity has gone extinct. As lesser gods die out and vanish into nothing, as nature reclaimed the tragedy, as the chaotic wilderness began to roam free, a cloaked silhouette wanders the planet. An unknowing vessel who has died and rebirthed himself, red blood that soaked his white cloak would wipe off every time the fire restarted. He will complete the cycle that the grim reapers had halted, whether it may be by himself or with other unlikely faces. "Sicut est in mundo, ignis erit." "Aeternus mundus, vita aeterna. Tecum vel sine te." -- Disclaimer! The lovely art that I have stolen belongs to the artist and if said artist would want me to take it down, I will respectfully do so! --

“Don’t close thine eyes, or thee might find thyself in a garden of darkness. For the devil is a master of lies and deceit.” The Hero of Hope has slain the Demon Lord. The nightmare is dead, peace and prosperity begat to the lands as he was hailed as king to the now claimed castle. An aftermath yet to be clean, lingering thoughts to be rested, and a curse waiting to be finished. In the beginnings of hope, the Demon Lord foresight the threat opposing him. In an attempt to remove it, the fiend laid a trap, a bomb waiting to be detonated. It never exploded, to his dismay, not until the Demon Lord had long since perished and his blood washed away from his very throne. That bomb was a curse beyond the world. The hero’s soul was righteous and powerful, so the Demon Lord aimed directly for it. Switch it with another person, who knows not of how to save, who was a coward and easily disposed of. A person who doesn’t even know the laws of the world. Forced transmigration. It was unknown why it never fully took effect until one peculiar moment. When that festering curse finally took over the hero, and the soul of a woman planted within the hero suddenly gained control. She was afraid, she was confused, and she ran away from the castle. The meek soul wishes to go home. She was not forthright, she was not cunning, she was not the hero. But she still wanted to exist. Was that not a fair thing to ask? -- The book cover respectfully stolen is respectfully made by a great artist. If said artist wishes me to take the picture down, then I shall oblige. --

A samurai values honour more than their life. A human values the compassion they carry, humanity. A monster is many, both selfish and ruthless in pursuit of goals. Ogawa is all of the above. An oni who has relinquished fists for a sword ripped from the hands of ronins and samurai alike by extorting them to dueling with her, all in the name of finding the swordsman who has spared her for unknown reasons. In a world where people abandon their selves with masks carved from the souls of spirits, Ogawa is no less different. "This is not a path vengeance. It's a path of enlightenment, a trial by will and the final test is the man who allowed me to live." -- The art respectfully stolen is by Koyorin on Danbooru