Looking at the child before him, Maierin's lips curled into a noticeable smile. If this were an ordinary Saint Seiya world, blue hair wouldn't be unusual. But in this chaotic world, which combined reality with fantasy, it was somewhat eye-catching.
Observing the bright, innocent smile the boy put on, Maierin immediately recognized him—not just by his appearance, but by the cosmos emanating from him.
The future Golden Saint of the Crab duo—ah, no—the Golden Saint of Cancer, Deathmask.
At this moment, Deathmask was only ten years old, just a little runt. But perhaps because of war, he had already learned to use a seemingly innocent and cheerful demeanor to mask the ruthlessness in his heart.
Due to memories from his previous life, Maierin didn't particularly like Deathmask. As a Golden Saint, he was more infamous for his cunning and hypocrisy than for his combat prowess. His despicable and opportunistic behavior often drew resentment.
However, much of this was the result of external influences. Deep down, he craved recognition and approval, making him easily swayed by outside forces.
And yet, when faced with the Wailing Wall, he sacrificed his life without hesitation, joining the twelve Gold Saints in their legendary mission—breaking through the Wailing Wall to pave the way for Seiya and his friends to the Elysian Fields.
Later, when he was resurrected in the battle against the evil god Loki, he fully redeemed himself, proving himself a worthy Golden Saint.
So right now, Deathmask was just a brat in need of some discipline. With proper guidance, he could grow into a true Saint.
"Alright, little one, can you lead us to a good inn?" Maierin asked with a warm smile.
"Of course! Follow me, gentlemen!" Deathmask replied with exaggerated enthusiasm, leading Maierin and Kanon into a narrow alley. Meanwhile, he sneered in his heart—what a couple of gullible fools. It was too easy to trick outsiders.
"Master…"
"It's fine. Just a mischievous little brat."
"…Understood."
Kanon had clearly sensed Deathmask's ill intent, which was nothing like the innocent act he put on. But since Maierin was aware, Kanon said nothing more.
Following Deathmask's lead, the trio wound their way through the dark alleys of Rome, gradually moving away from the city center and nearing the outskirts.
Yet, Maierin made no move to stop him. He was curious—what exactly did Deathmask intend to do? How far would he go?
Eventually, Deathmask halted in front of a dilapidated courtyard on the city's outskirts.
"We're here?" Maierin's gentle smile remained unchanged.
"Heh… Ha ha ha… You really are an idiot, old man! You still haven't figured it out?" Deathmask's innocent façade vanished, replaced by arrogance and disdain. To Maierin's eyes, faint blue spiritual flames flickered around him, their eerie glow making him seem all the more sinister.
But Maierin's next words made Deathmask freeze.
"Are these your family?"
"You… You can see them too?" Deathmask asked in shock.
"Of course. Souls that linger in this world do so because of their attachments. They remain because they cannot yet pass into the afterlife. I can sense the warmth they feel toward you. They must be your loved ones, no?"
"Yes… They were my family…" Deathmask's expression softened, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes as he looked at the spirits surrounding him.
Perhaps it was because he had finally found someone like him—his hostility toward Maierin faded significantly.
Since childhood, Deathmask had been able to see spirits. But instead of being understood, he was treated as a freak. Fear, rejection, and bullying followed him everywhere. No one except his family wanted anything to do with him.
But because of him, even his family was ostracized. Once a well-off household, they were forced to move to the outskirts, cut off from society. His parents couldn't find work. Without money, they had no food, no water. There was no doctor willing to treat them when they fell ill.
In the end, they all died, leaving him alone.
He hated the people around him. He hated the world. He even… hated himself.
If only he couldn't see spirits. If only he hadn't boasted about it. If only…
Countless "if onlys" tormented him. In time, he stopped trusting anyone, relying only on his own power. Unknowingly, he had gained the ability to manipulate spirits—to make ordinary people see them.
To survive, he pretended to be an innocent child, luring travelers here, then using his family's spirits to frighten them and extort money to stay alive.
But this time, before he could even use his powers, Maierin had already seen them. The realization left Deathmask both unsettled and excited.
"What's your name, child?" Maierin asked.
"Deathmask. Just an ordinary name, like these ordinary souls—souls so insignificant that even the underworld refuses to take them. Is that what the great god of death calls 'mercy'?" Deathmask scoffed.
"In my eyes, your family is anything but ordinary," Maierin said, stepping forward and raising his right hand. The spirits that had been surrounding Deathmask gathered toward his palm.
"Heh, what's so special about them? They're nothing but dust. No one helped us when we were alive. No one cares about us now that we're dead. Not even the underworld will take us."
"Is that so? I think your family is remarkable. They didn't fail to pass on because they weren't qualified. They stayed behind because they chose to."
"What are you talking about?"
"Because of you, Deathmask. They stayed because they couldn't bear to leave you alone."
"Stop spouting nonsense! You're not them! You're not dead! How could you possibly know what they think?" Deathmask's expression twisted in fury. His family was sacred to him—no one was allowed to speak of them so lightly.
"Oh? Then why don't you ask them yourself?" Maierin said.
"What… what did you say!?"
Without answering, Maierin clenched his right hand, leaving only his index finger extended. A blue glow flared.
"Sekishiki Meikai Ha."
Before Deathmask could react, the blue light engulfed him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a different world—a barren, lifeless wasteland under a darkened sky.
In the distance, a procession of white spectral figures slowly made their way forward.
"Where… is this?"
"Yomi-no-Kuni. Or you might call it the Bridge of No Return—the gateway to the underworld."
"Don't be ridiculous! What kind of illusion is—"
But before he could finish, he heard a familiar voice. His body stiffened.
"Deathmask."
Turning around, he saw them—his parents, his siblings, and his little sister, all gazing at him with warmth and worry.
"Papa… Mama… Brother… Sister… Nari…"
"Child, we're sorry." His mother wept as she embraced him. Though their souls were insubstantial, the warmth of her hug remained unchanged.
"Mom… Mom…"
"It's us, my child. We're so sorry…"
Tears streamed down Deathmask's face as his carefully constructed walls crumbled.
His father knelt before Maierin. "Sir, I do not know who you are, nor do I have the right to ask anything of you. But please, take care of my son. He was once a kind boy… It was because of us that he became like this."
After saying their final goodbyes, his family joined the other spirits and passed into the underworld.
Back in the ruined courtyard, Maierin asked, "Is there anything else you need to take care of?"
"Hmph! Who said I'm going with you?" Deathmask huffed, looking away.
"Brat, mind your tone!" Kanon snapped.
"Leave him be," Maierin said, smiling.
After a pause, Deathmask sneaked a glance at Maierin. "…Hey, what's your name?"
"Maierin. And this is Kanon."
"That technique just now… Can you teach me?"
Maierin grinned. "Of course."