The world was reborn.
Cities rose from the ashes.
Fields blossomed where wastelands once festered.
Laughter echoed across lands that had known only screams.
And at the heart of it all…
stood Arin.
Crowds gathered in the plazas.
Leaders from every surviving corner of the world knelt before her.
Voices rose like thunder:
"Crown her!
Crown the Savior!
Crown the Light of the New Dawn!"
A council approached her.
Men and women dressed in gold and silver,
carrying a crown —
beautiful, shining, forged from the first ore pulled from the new earth.
They knelt and offered it to her.
"Lead us, Arin.
Be the queen of the world you saved.
Guide us into the new age."
She stared at the crown.
It gleamed in the sunlight.
It was everything the old world had worshiped.
Power.
Control.
Glory.
And it felt heavier than any sword she had ever lifted.
Because she remembered.
She remembered the last boy who had worn a crown.
Not of gold.
Of silence.
Of ashes.
She remembered Kai.
She remembered Asura.
She remembered the price he had paid —
the blood he had spilled —
the dream he had died for.
A world without cruelty.
A world without kings.
A world where power served, not ruled.
Tears blurred her vision.
She dropped to one knee.
Not to be crowned.
Not to be worshiped.
To make a vow.
A vow so deep it seared itself into the bones of the newborn world.
"I will not be your queen."
"I will not sit on a throne built on forgotten blood."
"I will walk among you.
I will carry your burdens.
I will bear your pain.
I will guide you — not rule you."
The leaders gasped.
The crowd froze.
The crown slipped from the priest's trembling hands and shattered on the stones.
And Arin,
standing before them in cracked armor and bleeding hands,
swore her true oath.
"I will carry his dream.
Even if it breaks me.
Even if it crushes me.
Even if no one remembers him.
Even if you curse me for it.
I will carry it until my final breath.
I will build the world he dreamed of.
A world worthy of the boy you called a monster.
A world worthy of the king you erased."
Silence swept the plaza.
Not anger.
Not confusion.
Something older.
Something deeper.
Respect.
They bowed.
Not to a queen.
Not to a savior.
But to a burden-bearer.
To the last knight of a forgotten king.
The new world turned under a new sun.
And somewhere, in the places between light and shadow,
a boy with black wings and a broken crown smiled one last time
before fading into legend.