Twenty-four hours before the awakening of the malevolent serpent. 

The Celestial Court stretched endlessly beneath a sky of swirling constellations, its towering marble pillars radiated divine light. Celestial beings of all realms gathered in tense silence, their collective gaze fixed upon the dais where Seiryū, the Dragon Emperor, stood on trial. The azure scales of his tail gleamed under the ethereal glow, his expression calm yet unreadable. At his side stood Kōryū, his twin sister, her golden form radiant, though her sharp gaze held a storm of unspoken words. 

At the forefront of the court, Quetzalcoatl, the feathered goddess of wisdom and storms, leaned forward in her seat with her arms crossed and serpentine tail coiled in a display of defiance. “Seiryū’s actions were not driven by cruelty,” she declared, her voice carrying through the vast hall like rolling thunder. “He wiped out the Eldritch, cosmic horrors that would have consumed existence itself! And if his crime is that he loved too deeply, is that truly something to condemn?”

Opposing her stood Jackal, the Anubian Judge of the Dead, her ears twitched slightly at the words. Clad in obsidian robes, her sleek black fur gleamed like the void, her golden eyes sharp as celestial daggers. “Do not romanticize his actions, Coatl,” she said, her voice smooth yet unyielding, like a blade wrapped in silk. “The emperor did not merely rid the heavens of darkness—he created another. His copy, Shinryū, was no mindless husk. He committed atrocities in Seiryū’s name, taking the lives of those undeserving of death, all for the sake of reviving one woman.”

Murmurs of unease spread throughout the court. The crimes of Shinryū were not distant whispers; they were scars left upon the celestial realm, wounds that would not fade. Temples desecrated, gods slain, and the very balance of the heavens was left trembling beneath the weight of his misdeeds. And yet, the true Seiryū remained—his hands untainted, but his soul burdened by the sins of the shadow he cast.

Kōryū’s golden tail flicked behind her, her voice ringing with conviction. “Shinryū was not my brother. He was a fragment, a shadow of his desperation given form. But my brother took responsibility—he ended Shinryū with his own hands.”

Jackal’s sharp gaze narrowed. “A convenient excuse, General,” she said, stepping forward, her golden anklets clinking softly. “He used that thing to dirty his hands for him, then discarded it like a tool when its purpose was served. That is not redemption. That is cowardice.” 

A ripple of divine energy surged through the chamber as Quetzalcoatl’s feathers bristled, her serpentine eyes burning with defiance. “And yet, we stand among gods who constantly bend fate to their will! How many of us have torn the very fabric of existence for our own desires? Where is the line, Jackal? Tell me—where does justice end and hypocrisy begin?” 

The weight of the question settled upon the court like a celestial storm. The Celestial Judges, formless beings wrapped in cosmic fire, remained silent, their decision still unspoken. 

Kōryū’s breath hitched, her fists clenching at her sides. “Aniki—”

A single glance from him silenced her.

“I will not hide behind excuses, nor will I cower beneath the weight of my own actions,” Seiryū began, unwavering. “I loved Yuina enough to defy the gods and fate alike. If that is my crime, then I’ll bear it.”

A hush fell over the chamber.

Jackal’s golden eyes studied him intently. For the first time, her expressions softened—if only slightly. “Then let judgement be passed,” she murmured. 

The Celestial Court fell into a silence so profound that even the stars seemed to dim. The gathered gods and spirits awaited the decree of the Celestial Judges, their forms shifting like cosmic storms, their voices woven with the fabric of fate itself.

“Dragon Emperor Seiryū, bearer of divine authority, wielder of the temporal flow… You have trespassed upon the natural order. You have shattered the sacred cycle of life and death. For this crime, we bestow upon you a title befitting your transgressions.”

The weight of divine judgement bore down upon the azure dragon’s soul like a tidal wave, but he remained unmoving. He had steeled himself for the worst, for eternal banishment or the stripping of his divinity. And yet—

“From this moment forth, you shall bear the full name: Seiryū, Dragon God of Time and Destruction.”

A murmur spread through the court like wildfire. Whispers of disbelief, outrage, and curiosity rippled among the gathered deities. This was not exile, shackles nor imprisonment. It was something far crueler.

A brand of shame upon his very existence.

Seiryū lifted his gaze, meeting the silent stares of his fellow deities. A flicker of movement caught his attention—Quetzalcoatl, watching him with eyes fierce yet triumphant. Though she had failed to absolve him entirely, this was the limit of his punishment. Thanks to her, he was spared true ruin. 

Jackal, standing opposite of her, crossed her arms, her golden gaze unreadable. Though she had sought a harsher fate for him, she did not protest the ruling.

The Celestial Judges continued. “You shall retain your divinity, but know this, Seiryū—this title shall not be removed. Your every action, your very presence, shall be accompanied by its weight. The heavens shall remember your crimes and the cosmos shall tremble at your name.”

Seiryū exhaled, the residual heat of the judgement still lingered within his chest. But his expression remained composed. IF this was his burden to bear—so be it. He had already accepted the consequences the moment he reached into the depths of time itself to bring Yuina back from her curse.

From across the chamber, Jackal’s voice rang out, cold and resolute. “You may walk free, emperor, but know this—destruction follows you like a shadow. I will be watching.” 

A hush fell over the Celestial Court, but it was Quetzalcoatl who shattered the silence. The Feathered Serpent’s emerald eyes gleamed with an ancient knowing. She stepped forward unfazed by the tension that still gripped the chamber.

“The title of ‘God of Destruction’ is not merely a mark of shame,” she declared, her voice echoed across the divine assembly. “It’s also a responsibility, a power that no god should wield lightly. For before creation—there must first come destruction.” 

Jackal folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “You speak as if this punishment is a gift rather than a condemnation.” 

Quetzalcoatl did not so much as blink. “A god’s title is more than a name—it is a manifestation of their authority. To bear the title of Destruction is to wield the power to erase. A force feared even by the gods.” She turned her piercing gaze upon the Dragon Emperor. “Do you understand what this means?”

“I do,” Seiryū spoke up. “I understood since the moment I erased the Eldritch back then, but just like those encounters, I will wield it as I see fit. Only when it’s absolutely necessary.”

Jackal scoffed. “We shall see,” she said coldly. “Power like this does not lie dormant forever.”

With that, the Celestial Judges gave their final decree, their voices rippling across the heavens. “Dragon Emperor—your fate is now your open. See that you do not become the very thing you have condemned.” 

With those words, the divine tribunal came to an end. The Celestial Court began to disperse, gods departing in shimmering trails of stardust. 

As the last echoes of judgement faded, Kōryū turned to her brother, her golden eyes searching his face. “What now?”

Seiryū closed his eyes briefly and sighed before meeting his sister’s gaze. “Home.”

The celestial winds parted, bending to the will of the twin dragons as they descended back to Kyoto. The sacred grounds of the Seiryū-kai came into view, a sprawling palace nestled in the heart of the city.

As Seiryū and Kōryū landed upon the palace grounds, the presence of home—of sanctuary—wrapped around them like a long-lost embrace. Here, the weight of divine judgment did not press upon them so cruelly beneath the moonlight.

And then, as if sensing his return, a small figure came rushing toward him.

“Papa!” A streak of white and pink shot through the courtyard as Ryūko, the tiny dragon goddess, adopted daughter of Seiryū and Yuina, ran with all the might of her three-year-old legs. 

Seiryū caught her effortlessly, lifting her up with practiced ease. The warmth of her tiny hands clutching onto his robes made something in his chest unclench. 

“I missed you!” Ryūko said, her bright pink eyes wide with innocent excitement, unaware of the storm of judgement that had raged around her father only moments ago. “Mama said you were fighting big scary gods again!” 

Seiryū chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Something like that.”

Kōryū smirked, a rare smile upon her lips as she crossed her arms. “You’re getting heavier, little one.” 

Ryūko gasped, scandalized. “No I’m not!” 

Moments of peace like these were few and far between, but it was a soft laugh joining the group’s that drew Seiryū’s gaze forward.

Yuina. 

She stood beneath the moonlit veranda, her gentle presence radiating warmth. She had waited for him—not with worry, but with trust. Her gaze softened as she took in the sight before her—Seiryū, the so-called ‘God of Destruction,’ holding their tiny daughter with the utmost tenderness.

No title, no divine judgement, could ever take this moment from him.

Seiryū exhaled slowly, pressing a kiss against Ryūko’s forehead before setting her down. The child immediately latched onto his hand, determined to never let go. He turned toward Yuina, stepping forward until he was close enough to hear her quiet whisper.

“...Welcome home.”

And for the first time since his ascension to Heaven’s throne, Seiryū felt like he had one. 

No more threats from the Underworld. 

No more enemies in the form of cosmic horrors. 

No more battles left to fight. 

***

The following morning at the Seiryū-kai began in the quiet way only a sanctuary hidden from prying eyes could provide. Sunlight filtered through the delicate shoji doors, casting intricate patterns upon the polished wooden floors of the Dragon’s Palace. The scent of incense and fresh tea drifted in the air, blending with the crispness of Kyoto’s eternal breeze. 

Seiryū had expected to wake with the weight of judgement crushing his every step. Yet, here, surrounded by the warmth of home, that weight lessened—if only for a moment. 

Seated within the palace’s open courtyard, he poured tea into two porcelain cups, the steam curling into the cool morning air. Across from him, Yuina sat gracefully, her eyes watching him with the same quiet understanding she always had. She hadn’t asked about the trial—she didn’t need to. 

“Ryūko’s been asking about you every day,” Yuina murmured, lifting her cup. “She keeps saying she wants to ‘train’ so she can fight gods too.” 

Seiryū exhaled, shaking his head. “She’s three. She shouldn’t even know what fighting is.” 

Yuina smiled knowingly. “Try telling that to our little dragon.” 

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Ryūko came dashing into the courtyard, her white hair bouncing wildly as she skidded to a stop beside the azure dragon. Her pink eyes were alight with determination.

“Papa!” she huffed, puffing out her tiny chest. “I wanna train today! Auntie Kōryū said I need to get stronger!” 

From the shadows of the veranda, Kōryū leaned against a pillar. “She was born with a natural affinity for Mushin. She has potential,” she remarked, arms crossed. “She just needs guidance.”

Seiryū sighed, setting his tea down before lifting the tiny dragon effortlessly into his lap. “You don’t need to be strong yet,” he murmured, brushing stray strands from her face. “You just need to be a kid.”

Ryūko pouted. “But Auntie Kōryū said you were really strong when you were my age!” 

Kōryū coughed pointedly, looking away as Yuina chuckled softly. 

Seiryū pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is why I shouldn’t leave you alone with your aunt for too long.”

Laughter filled the courtyard, warm and genuine. For a brief time, everything was as it should be—no celestial judgement, no looming threats, just family.

But peace was never meant to last.

The disturbance came suddenly. A shift in the air, subtle at first, then suffocating. The sacred grounds of the Seiryū-kai trembled as a pulse of ominous energy rippled through the sky. 

Seiryū’s breath hitched. This presence…

A moment later, Kōryū straightened, her golden eyes narrowing. Yuina stiffened, sensing it as well. Even little Ryūko paused mid-bounce, tilting her head in confusion.

The azure dragon turned his gaze eastward, toward Tokyo. 

Then, as if summoned by fate itself, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed through the palace corridors. The sliding doors of the courtyard were thrown open, revealing a Seiryū-kai agent, clad in a black suit, his expression grim. He immediately fell to one knee before the dragon emperor.

“My lord, urgent news.”

The weight in the agent’s voice confirmed Seiryū’s unease. He motioned for the agent to continue. 

The messenger took a steadying breath. “Reports have come in from our informants in Tokyo—specifically, Shibuya. Guildmaster Sekai has been sighted hovering above the city.”

Seiryū’s fists clenched. “What else?”

The agent hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, in a hushed voice, he delivered the next words with palpable dread. “...Dark energy is emanating from him. The ley lines are shifting around him unnaturally. The sky above Shibuya is warping.”

Seiryū closed his eyes briefly, the implications sinking in. Kisaragi, what have you done?

Kōryū took a step forward. “If the ley lines are reacting, this isn’t just an anomaly. This is a full-blown crisis.”

Yuina’s worried gaze met Seiryū’s, but she said nothing—she knew what had to be done.

Seiryū exhaled, his divine presence coiling around him like a storm contained within a humanoid form. Then, he spoke.

“I’ll go.”

Kōryū frowned. “Alone?”

“Yes.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t a battle for the Seiryū-kai. It’s between me and Kisaragi.”

Yuina’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t protest. She understood, even if she hated it. 

Ryūko clutched at his sleeve. “Papa, you’ll come back, right?”

Seiryū knelt, placing a gentle hand atop her hair. His eyes softened for a moment. “Of course,” he said. “You still need training, don’t you?”

The tiny dragon beamed, unaware of the weight behind his promise.

Rising again, Seiryū turned to his twin sister. “I leave the palace in your care. No one is to follow me.”

She didn’t like it. He could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her fingers flexed, aching for battle. But in the end, she nodded. “Fine. But if you take too long, I’m coming after you.”

Seiryū smirked faintly. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Without another word, he turned away and flew up into the sky, soaring towards Shibuya,  Kisaragi Sekai, and the malevolent storm that awaited him.