The battle with the Star Eater had ended. Now, the people of Utopia rested, trying to recover from the devastation.


    The once-glorious land was reduced to ruins. Yet, amidst the rubble, the fact that Utopia still stood was a symbol of hope.


    The King had collapsed from exhaustion after the final blow. The people had carried him back to Atlantis, where he lay unconscious for a month. When he finally woke, his body was still weak—but his spirit remained strong. He refused to rest any longer.


    Slowly, he rose from bed and staggered toward the door. But the moment it opened, he straightened his posture, masking his pain with regal dignity. He stepped onto the palace balcony and gazed out over the damaged kingdom.


    "It’s a mess," he muttered. "But at least… we stood firm. That’s something."


    As he stood in silence, his wife approached from behind.


    “You should still be resting,” she said gently. “Your body hasn’t recovered.”


    “I’d like to… but what they need now is a guide—especially those who have lost their leaders.”


    She smiled faintly. “At least eat something first.”


    “Hah… fine. You always win.”


    Together, they walked to the dining hall, where their children were already waiting—cheerful as if nothing had happened.


    “What playful children,” the King said, smiling.


    They sat and shared a simple meal. No royal feasts remained—just humble food like any other citizen. But none complained. They were simply grateful to be alive.


    Afterward, the King set out toward the Dragon Kingdom—a land now reduced to ruins, empty and silent.


    “This place used to be full of life… now, only echoes remain,” he whispered.


    He walked solemnly through the debris until he reached the throne room—a vast hall draped in worn banners, engraved with the deeds of fallen kings. At its center stood a throne, carved from the bones of past Dragon Kings. He placed his hand on it.


    “No matter how many times I see it, it still gives me chills… I told you this wouldn’t make you look cooler. You were always stubborn,” he murmured, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “You always made me laugh.”


    His hand trembled.


    “But now… there’s not even a fragment of your bones left. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. All of you.”


    He stepped away, but turned one last time to bow his head.


    “Goodbye… and thank you, Master.”


    Next, he visited neighboring kingdoms, offering aid. But most of them refused his help, worried about his health.


    Still, as he stood there, feeling somewhat useless, a tiny hand tugged at his robe. He looked down to see a little girl, and behind her, a group of children.


    “Come play with us! We’re missing a player!” she said brightly—then they all ran off giggling, not waiting for a reply.


    The King blinked in surprise.


    “They’re just kids… so innocent,” someone beside him chuckled.


    “They are and their laughter… it made the world feel normal again. Just for a moment.” the King replied. “If only my childhood had been like that…”


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    “Sir?”


    “Nothing—just old memories,” the King said, then smiled. “If I can’t help rebuild, I’ll play with the children instead.”


    “You deserve to rest, Your Majesty.”


    Laughing softly, the King followed the children as they waved at him with joy.


    But no one noticed the ominous change in the sky—high above, beyond the clouds, the shattered fragments of the Star Eater were slowly beginning to reassemble.


    A Year Later


    Utopia had almost returned to its former glory. Homes were rebuilt. Kingdoms restored. But the dead would never return.


    The King declared a day to honor the fallen. Their tombs were placed beneath the ruins of the Abyssal Breaker, so they could eternally watch over Utopia.


    On the day of remembrance, the King stood on a podium, facing the people—both in person and across broadcast screens. Behind him stood the remaining leaders, each holding portraits of those who had perished.


    “Today,” the King began, “we give our thanks to the brave souls who gave their lives to protect Utopia. Without them, we would not be standing here.”


    He lowered his head, and all followed in silent respect.


    “But we must not let them see only our sorrow,” he continued, raising his voice. “Let’s show them that we’re still alive. That we endure!”


    He raised his glass high.


    “For Utopia—and for the dead!”


    The crowd echoed in unison:


    “For Utopia and the dead!”


    Joy returned with music and laughter. A grand festival began.


    During the celebration, the King once again took the stage.


    “As I once promised—after everything was over—I declare the winner of the contest between King Phantom and Queen Spirit to be… King Phantom!” he declared theatrically. “But to me, they’re both victors—for they defeated a man like me with their spirit and sacrifice. So let’s celebrate their victory!”


    The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices carrying across the land. Even the leaders joined the festivities, basking in the hard-earned peace.


    But after his speech, the King quietly slipped away.


    He returned to his chamber, poured two glasses of wine, and said coldly, “How long are you going to stand there, stranger? Care for a drink?”


    A figure emerged from the shadows.


    “Well well… such a wise king. How did you notice me?”


    “Your aura isn’t exactly subtle.”


    “Fair enough. I come not as an enemy… but bearing a gift.”


    The figure stepped forward and handed him a book—an eerie tome etched with unfamiliar patterns.


    “What’s this?”


    “A gift. You’ll need it… soon.”


    The King touched the book—and a murderous aura surged out, forcing him to drop it.


    “What the hell is this!?” he shouted, but when he turned, the stranger had vanished—leaving only an empty glass behind.


    The King picked up the book again. The aura was gone. He opened it… but the language was foreign, unintelligible.


    “What a strange book… just like its owner,” he muttered.


    Just then, his wife entered.


    “Someone wishes to see you. What’s that?”


    “Just a strange book I picked up. Nothing important.”


    He left the book on the table and went out—but after the door shut, the book flipped its pages wildly, stopping on an illustration: a monstrous form of the Star Eater, twisted and reborn.


    Later, as he welcomed a visitor, an urgent whisper echoed in his mind.


    “Sir… look at the sky.”


    He rushed outside—and froze.


    A massive mass of flesh floated in the sky, as large as a mountain.


    “What… is that?” he gasped.


    “No one knows, sir. It wasn’t there yesterday.”


    His eyes widened in horror.


    “That’s the Star Eater… it survived…”


    He immediately called for the festival to be suspended.


    “But why, sir?” a leader asked.


    “Look at the sky!”


    “We see nothing… are you alright, Your Majesty?”


    “What? How can you not see it?!”


    Panic set in—only the King and a few astronomers could perceive the creature. It wasn’t a hallucination—it was real.


    “This isn’t an illusion,” he said grimly. “The Star Eater is still alive.”


    His declaration sent a wave of fear across the council.


    “But… it was destroyed a year ago. How…?”


    “I swear on my honor. It’s real.”


    “Then we must alert the people,” someone said.


    “But won’t that cause mass panic?”


    “Better panic than ignorance—better fear than letting them laugh beneath that thing in the sky.”


    The people were quickly evacuated. The festival came to an abrupt, grim end.


    As the King stared upward, unable to look away, he muttered:


    “It resembles the Star Eater… but smaller. What is it… really?”


    A soldier ran to him. “Sir, evacuation complete. Weapons ready on your command.”


    “Good. Thank you.”


    But then—pain. A sudden, sharp headache struck him.


    Strange symbols, voices, and words surged through his mind. He collapsed to his knees, groaning.


    “Are you alright, Your Majesty?” a soldier shouted.


    “What is this… this pain… these words…” the King gasped. “Could it be…?”


    And as if realizing something, the King looked up into the sky towards the mass of flesh.


    And just as he had predicted, the mass of flesh slowly opened its eyes and looked down at Utopia, and it began to let out terrifying screams that echoed throughout Utopia—screams so deep, so distorted as if it were extremely angry—as if to signal that it had returned, and this time, it would show the people below what hell truly meant.