"This kid… she's way too strong!" March 7th panted, barely twisting aside as an energy round hissed past her cheek. She yelled toward Dan Heng, "Dan Heng! Hurry! This is the moment you unleash your hidden power! You can't keep holding back!"
Beside her, Stelle gritted her teeth and braced her bat against a head-on blast. The impact drove her to one knee and shoved her backward across the broken ground.
Stelle's eyes bulged. She whipped her head toward Dan Heng.
Seriously? You've got a secret reserve?
Dan Heng deflected Bronya's heavy downward strike with a clean sweep of his spear, sliding several meters on the recoil. His breathing remained steady; his voice stayed flat.
"You first."
"Ugh. How boring." Bronya settled into a firm stance. The amber aura of Preservation around her condensed into something almost solid. She leveled her weapon at the trio, who'd been pushed into a corner, and spoke with measured authority.
"Surrender."
Her voice wasn't loud, yet it cut through the chaos with uncanny clarity.
"I guarantee, as Acting Supreme Guardian, you will receive a fair trial."
"Ahem—uh—sorry to interrupt this… very serious moment."
A light, flippant voice cut in from nowhere.
Before anyone could react, several small canisters arced into the center of the square.
Pff. Pff. Pff.
Muted pops—then an enormous surge of gray smoke, blooming outward at terrifying speed. In a blink, the entire plaza and the surrounding ruins were swallowed.
Bronya's instincts screamed.
She forced her Preservation power to its limit. Amber light flared stubbornly inside the fog.
Standing on Belobog's soil, she believed Preservation would be the strongest shield there was.
But the smoke didn't care.
It ignored the Path's protection and went straight for her nervous system. A wave of dizziness crashed down like a tidal surge, instantly shattering her mental defenses.
She managed only a short, strangled sound before her body went slack and toppled backward. The amber halo flickered twice—then died.
On the other side, Stelle—who carried a Stellaron, whose body had endured the doomsday beast's dying counterattack—was helpless before the "harmless" smoke. Her consciousness plunged into darkness; her limbs gave out.
Dan Heng, bearing the power of the Imbibitor Lunae and the endurance of the Undying, couldn't escape either.
Neither could March 7th—mysterious as she was, resilient as she was.
One after another, their vision dimmed.
And then—nothing.
A handful of ordinary gray smoke bombs had dropped an entire battlefield.
The only phrase that fit was:
Terrifying.
Where moments ago there'd been metal-on-metal clashes and roaring energy fire, the plaza fell into an eerie silence. Only the smoke continued to churn, soundless and thick.
Silvermane Guards, Bronya, and the Astral Express trio lay scattered across the ground—motionless.
At the edge of the fog, a blue-haired figure strolled in with a roguish grin, as if he'd just finished a casual errand.
He brushed imaginary dust from his shoulder and spoke toward Stelle—who retained the faintest thread of awareness.
"Old Sampo never lets the folks who helped him get the short end of the stick!"
Once he'd confirmed everyone was down, Sampo raised his head and waved—easy, familiar—toward the rooftop of a half-collapsed high-rise with a perfect view of the square.
On that rooftop stood Eisen and Kafka, side by side.
Seeing Sampo's signal, they both gave a small nod in return.
Eisen turned to Kafka, frowning. "This doesn't match the future you described at all."
Kafka's expression didn't change. She calmly gathered a strand of hair the wind had blown loose, elegant as ever.
"Eisen—scripts are scripts because they require actors to perform them. What Elio 'sees' is a web of intersecting possibilities. The reason we exist as Stellaron Hunters is to make sure the future collapses toward the direction Elio wants."
Her gaze drifted downward to Sampo, who was currently trying—very ungracefully—to drag Dan Heng by one arm.
"We're choosing to watch. To step back. That doesn't mean the stage is over."
She let the silence hang for a beat, then continued.
"Other people have scripts too. They hold their own spindle of fate. They'll push the future in the way they desire—twisting and converging the paths. That's one of the core variables Elio wants to observe."
Eisen looked down again.
Sampo had hoisted Stelle onto his shoulder and was now attempting to haul Bronya as well. He let out a long, helpless sigh.
"This little backwater—Jarilo-VI—really is full of hidden monsters."
He shook his head.
"I thought the two of us coming here to take Cocolia away was already overkill."
Kafka's smile deepened slightly.
"Don't underestimate this place."
Her voice was soft, but it carried cleanly through the wind and snow.
"This is Star's first real stop—the true beginning of her journey. Someone… won't allow such an important opening act to end so plainly. A flat beginning doesn't suit the 'fun' They've carefully woven."
Eisen narrowed his eyes. Kafka's tone changed—like she was reciting something from an old book.
"The Xianzhou records speak of Them:
They pluck at the joys and griefs of intelligent life, weave coincidences and encounters, and use them to force fate into sharp turns and reversals. Their devoted followers say They enjoy it so much that They may even take human form and personally stir the pot."
Her gaze settled on Sampo.
Eisen's lips tightened in understanding.
"So… the target doesn't drift off course. If anything, it's even tighter now. The Supreme Guardian has no road left—except to be taken off this planet by me, to another world."
He glanced between Kafka and Sampo below, a look of weary disbelief spreading across his face.
"And all of this… was probably in Their calculations from the start."
He exhaled.
"In this universe, the beings at the top… every last one of them is a control freak with their own script."
Kliper Fortress — Supreme Guardian's Office
Outside the thick window, the snowstorm raged. Inside, it was still.
Cocolia's long fingers traced a portrait on her desk. She paused.
The drawing was wild and disproportionate, features twisted into something almost like a child's scribble. You could barely recognize the outline of a person—except for the blue hair.
Her brow furrowed.
Since when did Serval's little brother draw like this…?
Below her desk, Gepard stood rigid, reporting with urgency.
"Acting Supreme Guardian Bronya was subdued during engagement with the three suspects. A Lower City thief—identifying himself as Sampo, with multiple theft offenses—used an unknown smoke device to incapacitate her. The thief then relocated Bronya together with the three suspects."
Gepard's voice tightened.
"Your Grace—Lady Bronya's whereabouts are unknown. Her situation is dangerous. Should we lift the blockade on the Lower City and order the Guards to enter at once for full search-and-rescue?"
He waited—expecting fury, or a decisive command.
Instead, Cocolia lifted a hand to stop him.
She turned her chair toward the window and fell into thought.
Sampo? Who is Sampo?
The question snapped into her mind like a hook.
She closed her eyes.
Her awareness dropped into Between Hearts.
In an instant, her consciousness swept through the minds of the Upper City and Lower City—tens of thousands—searching for anything tied to "Sampo."
A few seconds later, she opened her eyes again.
And fell into an even deeper silence.
There was no mind that corresponded to "Sampo."
So…
Who was Sampo?
Cocolia's expression didn't show panic. Because the result didn't exceed her expectations.
Why had such a massive mirror-fragment "happened" to fall into the region of Between Hearts anchored to Belobog?
Why had she—upon entering—immediately found Mirror's enormous, cold remnant waiting for her?
Coincidence?
No.
With the near-Emissary-level authority she gained through the fragment, she had roamed every corner of Between Hearts in a blink. Her viewpoint had already surpassed the horizon of this frozen planet. Her cognition had already broken free of what a "guardian of a surface civilization" was supposed to be.
And that only made one truth clearer:
There are no coincidences.
The higher the power involved, the deeper the consequences, the less likely events are mere randomness. "Accidents" are often hands—hidden hands—pushing pieces together.
Belobog was dust in the universe.
And yet, on this dust mote, at least three forces brushing against godhood had converged:
the Stellaron, the root of the endless winter
the Nameless, carriers of "Trailblaze" and the unknown
and the shard of a failed would-be god—Mirror
Nothing revolving around this place could be purely accidental.
So then…
Why?
She sank again into Between Hearts—this time widening her search beyond Belobog, beyond the present.
She pulled in past clues, future trajectories from her calculations—anything that could form a pattern.
Her consciousness swam across an ocean of universe-scale information.
Countless worlds. Countless civilizations. Countless forks where destiny split.
And across those stories, one familiar structure replayed again and again:
The weak face extinction.
Heroes rise in desperation.
Justice wins—after sacrifice, reversals, and spectacle.
And behind those "human" epics—behind the illusion that individual wills were driving everything—
A blurred figure appeared again and again, like a ghost haunting the moment the curtain falls.
The Aeon of Elation—Aha.
The answer clicked into place.
Belobog had been chosen as Aha's new stage.
And she—Cocolia Rand, holder of Mirror's fragment, protector who dared to extend Belobog's life—
was now the role this grand drama demanded:
The final villain the heroes must defeat.
That "Sampo," regardless of whether he was an Elation Emissary or… a mask the Aeon Themself had put on for fun, explained perfectly why Between Hearts held no trace of him.
An Aeon—or their Emissary—sits beyond the range of ordinary minds.
And if even the mirror-fragment itself was something "delivered" to her… then manipulating Between Hearts was hardly strange.
After all, the shifting tides of the heart—desire, joy, sorrow—overlap with Elation's hunger for drama and absurdity in countless subtle ways.
What was the director's goal?
Cocolia understood with crystalline clarity.
A show.
A magnificent show—hope born inside despair, rebellion ignited under oppression—
and heroes stepping onto the stage atop the villain's defeat.
Having recognized the layout of the stage and her assigned role, Cocolia felt no rage at being moved like a piece.
Nor did she feel the urge to flip the board.
On the contrary—
the broader vision she'd gained, and the power now in her hands, were themselves "props" granted by the director.
If walking the thorned road—one that looked like it led to her failure—could create a Belobog future more transformative than her original "stable handover" plan…
then so be it.
Everything for a better Belobog.
That core belief had never wavered.
Hero or villain—this stage was still her homeland.
If the outcome was better…
then what harm was there in playing a perfect final boss?
Decision made, Cocolia turned back toward Gepard—who stood stiff as a board, worry nearly spilling from his eyes.
"No. Maintain the blockade. The Guards are not to enter the Lower City in force."
Gepard jerked his head up. "Your Grace—but Lady Bronya—"
"No need to worry about Bronya's safety," Cocolia cut him off. "If she is to bear Belobog's future, she cannot be broken by this much. This is a necessary… trial."
Gepard's chest heaved. Protest nearly burst from him.
But his long-trained obedience—and his ingrained reverence—won out. He lowered his head with difficulty.
"…Understood, Your Grace."
His voice was low, the words packed with suppressed frustration and fear.
He snapped into a perfect salute, boots striking the floor with heavy finality, and stepped out—one step at a time—until the office door closed.
Silence returned.
Cocolia's consciousness sank once more into the vastness of Between Hearts.
This time, she wasn't searching for a nonexistent name.
Her awareness expanded like a deep-sea beast with a thousand invisible tendrils, spreading through Belobog's sea of minds.
Every sleeping citizen. Every miner at work. Every patrolling Guard. Every stubborn, frightened, hopeful soul—
Their thoughts, emotions, memories—those faint, flickering lights—became threads in her grasp.
She began to weave.
Using tens of thousands of hearts as strands, an immense, complex net—blanketing the entire civilization—took shape under her will.
At its core, it anchored itself to the enormous, cold mirror-fragment deep in Between Hearts.
And then—
she began to drag.
Like a leviathan pulling a wreck from the abyss, a soundless roar tore through the mental dimension.
In the physical office, the air suddenly grew heavy. Even the blizzard beyond the glass seemed to hesitate for the briefest moment.
The mirror-fragment—carrying terrifying power—was being hauled, inch by inch, out of the void-depths of Between Hearts…
and toward reality.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 139)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter171)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter100)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter184)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 168
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 156
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 105
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 185
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 160
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 150
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 76
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 97
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 116
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 75
Uma Musume: I Want All 93
I Can Copy Unique Skills 79
Summoning an Evil God, but the 55
Supernatural Multiverse 75
My Harem Is Indescribable 68
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 70
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 66
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 69
Still playing traditional Honk 49
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 53
What Should I Do After Switchi 42
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 50
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 38
Transmigrated as Sukuna 35
Checking In in Demon Slayer 40
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 55
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