The darkness of the Kamui dimension was absolute, but not empty.
Through the twisted space of the boundary between realities, attentive eyes observed the outside world. No words were spoken. No sound was made. Only the silent watchfulness of someone who had chosen to remain apart.
The image before him was clear.
Nico Robin, seated in her room within the Phoenix Nest, leafed through a book with her legs crossed on the bed. Her eyes drifted across the lines with distracted focus. The page wasn't truly absorbed. It was an occupation… not a comfort.
The space around her was clean, organized, silent.
But her body was not at peace.
Her posture was relaxed, but not natural. Her neck tilted too much for someone truly immersed in reading. Her fingers turned the pages at a steady rhythm, without pause to take in the content. Her spine, despite the comfortable position, betrayed a subtle tension in her shoulders.
The light in the room was soft. The security runes glowed in fixed points along the walls, ensuring isolation, comfort, and silence.
But the silence was the problem.
Robin was alone.
The decision not to become a vampire had been hers. No pressure was applied. No judgment passed. Even Riser himself had respected the choice, with the same coldness with which he carried out most things.
But the side effect hadn't been anticipated.
Since that choice, Robin had taken part in no significant mission. She hadn't been included in field strategies. She wasn't summoned to Marineford. She didn't walk among the others. And worst of all: Riser hadn't sought her out.
The distancing was subtle. Natural. Almost imperceptible at first.
But now it was fact.
Robin had been left out of the cycle history was writing.
She knew everything. She watched the victory. She smiled for the others. She recognized Riser's absolute triumph. She felt pride… from afar.
But it wasn't the same as being there.
And now that everything was over, he still hadn't come.
The last conversation had been before his departure.
There was no farewell.
No reunion.
She didn't want to beg.
But she wanted to understand.
The pages of the book kept turning. The text was dense, historical, full of references to ancestral weapons and mythical structures. One of the rarest volumes in the Phoenix Nest's library.
But Robin wasn't reading.
Time stretched like a loose rope. The silent tick of an enchanted clock marked the hours with subtle precision. No other sound filled the room.
Her gaze faltered for moments that seemed longer than they should.
Her eyes, once fixed on the page, drifted toward the door with mute expectation — as if, by some whim of fate, someone might appear there.
But the corridor remained empty.
The silence stayed unchanged.
She returned her eyes to the book in her hands.
Yet she didn't turn the next page.
The attempt to remain calm was visible. Self-control revealed itself in restrained breath, in impeccable posture, in the firmness of her fingers. She forced herself to preserve composure, to hold on to her cold reasoning.
But absence was beginning to truly weigh.
Her decision not to become a vampire had been conscious. A choice based on logic, free will, and conviction. No one pressured her. No one excluded her.
Even so… the distance happened.
Now, even after Riser's victory and the rise of the others, even with the world recognizing that absolute triumph…
Robin couldn't feel like she was still part of it.
She watched from afar.
And from afar, everything felt quieter than it should.
On the other side of reality, beyond the invisible boundary between worlds, attentive eyes watched.
The Kamui had no color or visible matter, but it allowed perfect observation of the physical plane. There, Riser remained in absolute silence, watching Robin with the same clinical calm he applied to battlefields.
It was no surprise to him.
Robin was no mystery. Never had been. Since Alabasta, since the first contact, he had understood her with precision. Her limits, her fears, her choices. She was the kind of woman who preferred to drown in silence rather than admit vulnerability.
And that was exactly what she did.
At first, it wasn't intentional. The system still demanded adjustments, the targets were many, and the war at Marineford required priority. When her absence became noticeable, he didn't intervene. At first, from distraction. Then, by choice.
Robin was changing.
The sharp strategy had been replaced by long, melancholic pauses. Her cutting irony had given way to silences that lasted too long. Her gaze, once sharp and calculating, now drifted often. Even her way of walking softened.
She was becoming someone Riser didn't recognize.
Someone he didn't admire.
Robin had never needed protection. She had never begged for salvation. Never cried for attention. That was exactly why she had been relevant. A useful piece, lethal, disciplined. But now…
She resembled an orphan princess, locked in her own tower.
Riser felt no hatred for it. Nor pity.
He felt disappointment.
Not for her decision not to become a vampire — that was irrelevant to him. The frustration came from her abandonment of everything she once was. The woman who crossed deserts without hesitation, who betrayed without remorse to survive, who hid the world's greatest secrets with a single look… was now here, leafing through a book she wasn't reading, waiting for something that wouldn't come.
Riser observed the room with surgical precision. Every detail of the environment reflected Robin's choice for a life of isolation — perhaps comfortable, but still… isolated.
'It was my choice.'
The thought came without drama. Only cold recognition. He had respected her decision, granting total freedom, space, comfort, autonomy. He had given everything.
She hadn't asked for more.
And he hadn't offered.
'But maybe that's the problem.'
The woman before him wasn't useless. Nor weak. But she was slowly disintegrating from within — subtly, quietly, hidden.
'I never needed to take care of Robin. I just thought she didn't need anything.'
The book didn't turn pages.
The room didn't fill with voice or purpose.
Her presence was like a record of absence. A note written by someone who stopped in the middle of a sentence.
'I should have known. No one survives her world without carrying invisible scars.'
Since childhood, Robin had been hunted, betrayed, used, discarded. She didn't trust anyone easily. She didn't accept promises lightly. But there was something Riser perhaps hadn't considered back then.
'Trusting me… must have been her last attempt.'
And he failed.
Not by abandoning her. But by being too cold when presence was all she needed.
'I was efficient. But I was never warmth.'
For a woman who had spent her entire life being feared, hated, or discarded… maybe, for the first time, all she wanted was simply to remain seen.
And Riser, with all his systems, powers, and foresight… hadn't seen.
'If she's fading now… maybe it's because I was the last place where she believed she could exist without hiding who she was.'
The regret didn't hurt. But it weighed.
Not the pain of someone who lost something. The subtle pressure of someone who realized too late what he had in his hands.
'I thought leaving her free was enough.'
But Robin needed more than freedom. She needed to be reached.
And for the first time, the Emperor of the New World considered that maybe… it was he who needed to take the next step.
'Then that's what I'll do.'
The decision came with no light, no sound, no visual effect.
But within the Kamui, the space responded with a calmer silence.
Riser stepped back once.
And his eyes, for the first time in days, stopped merely watching.
The space around him twisted lightly. No abrupt rupture. No announcement. The Kamui's distortion swirled around Riser like a calm, silent vortex.
The black spiral opened between realities — and the physical world received him without resistance.
In Robin's room, nothing changed at first. The enchanted clock marked another second. The soft light remained. The air stayed still.
Until the space beside the bed bent like glass under pressure.
The vortex appeared in absolute silence. No wind, no vibration. Only the faint undulation of displaced air.
Riser appeared.
His body assumed full form with the precision of a perfect seal. No hesitation, no impact. His feet touched the floor with the ease of someone who belonged there. His wings weren't visible. The runes were gone. Only him whole, dry, present.
Robin didn't notice at first.
The book was still open. The page unmoved.
But then, the air changed.
Presence filled the room absolutely. No sound, but weight. No touch, but the space between the furniture narrowed.
Robin raised her eyes.
They met.
No words.
Only the impossible image before her.
Riser. Here.
The man who never came. Who always watched from afar. Who respected choices with coldness and absented himself with efficiency.
Now… stood before her.
📢 Bonus Chapter Available!
Are you following DXD: The Awakening of Phenex, Reincarnation in Smallville, or DXD: Gasper's Awakening?
Then I've got something special for you!
✨ Reincarnation in Smallville has officially reached Chapter 200 — the final chapter of the story!
Thank you to everyone who followed this journey from start to finish.
A new bonus chapter is now available exclusively on Patreon!
By supporting my work, you unlock early access, extra chapters, and exclusive behind-the-scenes content.
Your support helps me continue writing the stories you love.
💖 Support here: patreon.com/22Mirko22
Thank you so much for reading — see you in the next chapter!