Chapter 13: A Shattered Façade
We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.
Romans 5:3-4
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Sampo strolls along the corridor, arms bound behind his back with cuffs as four burly Silvermane guards escort him to the cell block. An amused grin plays upon his lips despite the circumstances, as if he's merely out for a casual walk.
"I can't believe this is the infamous 'Brughel Poisson' who had us all fooled," one guard scoffs, shaking his head. "How the hell did he pull that off?"
Chuckling, Sampo's mint green eyes sparkle with mischief. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it, my friends! A good con is all about misdirection and showmanship."
The guard to his left snorts. "More like trickery and deception."
"Potato, potahto," Sampo dismisses with a wave of his bound hands. "It's all about perspective, really."
Another pipes up, confusion etched on his face. "But why were you buried under layers of snow outside Belobog? Did you escape and couldn't find anywhere else to, uh, relieve yourself?"
Raucous laughter erupts from the group. Sampo feigns an exaggerated grimace. "Oof, low blow, my friend. Even I have standards when it comes to humor." He winks playfully. "But I suppose some of us are more refined than others."
The jokester guard glares and lands a solid punch to Sampo's gut. Sampo doubles over with a pained "Oomph!"
"Ouch! Uncalled for!" he exclaims, quickly recovering with dramatic flair. Straightening up, he shoots the guard an exaggerated pout. "And here I thought we were becoming such good friends."
Scowling, the puncher spits, "Just shut up and keep moving. I should be assisting with the Starlight Café raid, not dealing with this bullshit."
One of the other guards perks up. "Raid? What's that about? I haven't heard anything."
The first nods solemnly. "Apparently, an Architect told a friend, of a friend, of a friend that the Supreme Guardian had a vision from The Preservation about a terrorist infiltrating Belobog. They think it's a sign of the end times or something."
Another lets out a derisive snort. "You've been eating those mushrooms again, haven't you?"
Rolling his eyes, the lead guard mutters, "What the fuck are you on about?"
Hands raised defensively, the vision-mentioning guard explains, "Hey, I'm just telling you what I heard. I even had my cousin back at the Intelligence Division say that they've been going crazy, scouring records for anyone fitting the description of the man who appeared in the Supreme Guardian's vision. Word is, they think the most likely suspect would be at the Starlight Café event today."
"Good riddance, then," one mutters.
Sampo abruptly stops in his tracks, halting the group.
"Keep moving," the lead guard barks, shoving him roughly.
But Sampo remains rooted, a contemplative look on his face. "You know, I just heard something very interesting. What's this about the Starlight Café?"
Another hard shove. "None of your business. Now move it!"
Stumbling forward, Sampo regains his footing, an amused smile curling his lips. "Oh, but I think it is very much my business." A hearty laugh escapes him, eyes sparkling with delight. "The person I was supposed to meet days ago managed to avoid me, and now you're telling me the Supreme Guardian herself is searching for him? What a surprising development!"
In one fluid motion, Sampo raises his arms, the cuffs seemingly vanishing into thin air. He spreads his hands wide, an honest-to-god smile gracing his features. "Well, it seems my time here is up. I'm needed elsewhere! My old pal will surely need my help!"
One guard gapes at Sampo's now-free hands. "What the fuck—"
Before he can finish, Sampo launches into a flurry of kicks and punches, effortlessly taking down each guard with precise, calculated strikes. In seconds, all four lie unconscious at his feet.
Straightening his jacket, Sampo brushes off invisible dust from his shoulders. "Be seeing you soon!" he calls out cheerfully, turning on his heel and striding away without a care in the world.
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As I reflect on the fateful events that unfolded in Belobog, a part of me can't help but wonder if there could have been another path, an alternative approach that might have prevented that calamity from ever happening.
What if I had completely trusted the Astral Express crew from the beginning? Would it have made a difference if I had played the script by the book, approached Cocolia openly, and revealed the truth about our mission on Jarilo-VI, just as the story originally unfolded?
...
The thought gnaws at me, but deep within, I know the answer. Cocolia's response to my presence was never going to be welcoming. The Stellaron's influence within her had made her extremely paranoid of me in a way that didn't manifest in the original tale, whether the protagonist was Caelus or Stelle.
It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that all roads led to that encounter at the Starlight Café, the one that triggered the chain of events culminating in Belobog's Long Night of Solace just some days later. No matter how I approached the situation, no matter what I did differently, the outcome would have been the same. Cocolia would have reacted with hostility and suspicion, her actions driven by the Stellaron's corrupting influence.
A part of me wonders if it was simply meant to be. Contrary to what I initially forced myself to believe, this wasn't a game, nor was it a mere creative property tale from a Chinese company. It was all real, and the weight of that reality still bears down on me like a physical force to this day.
I have lived my life in this new world to the best of my abilities, not knowing my purpose, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon. And through my countless victories and losses, I discover a strange truth, or, at least, something I've settled for believing in.
God himself has put me in here, guiding me along this story for reasons I still struggle to understand. Who am I to have been so blessed, to experience something like this?
In the end, I can only continue moving forward, trusting that He will provide the clarity I seek in response to all the questions I have asked.
Perhaps, that way, I will find the resolution that makes all this suffering worth something in the end.
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The tension in the Starlight Café is palpable, a standoff between Cocolia, Bronya, Gepard and dozens of Silvermane soldiers on one side, and me, March, and Dan Heng on the other. Time slows as I take in the scene, my mind racing.
"Dan, March - I'll open up a path. Be ready to run," I growl, my voice low and intense.
Before anyone can react, I activate Chronosurge. The world descends into grayscale as my perception shifts, neurons firing at an accelerated rate. In a blur of motion, I whip out my handguns and fire a rapid volley, aiming not to kill but to disarm. The rounds find their marks - weapons clattering to the ground as Gepard, Bronya, the troops, and even Cocolia clutch their hands in shock and pain.
I take off in a sprint, shoulder-ramming anyone in my path with brutal force. Cocolia attempts to impale me with a volley of ice spears, but I deftly deflect them with Neuromorphic Armament, the indestructible blade glowing. A vicious kick sends her crashing against the wall.
Suddenly, a dark voice whispers in the back of my mind. "End her… Now's your chance..."
"Be silent," I snarl, shoving the sinister thought aside. There will be no killing, not today.
Plowing through the ranks of the stunned soldiers, I clear a path towards the exit with a flurry of punches and kicks, ensuring they'll feel the full brunt of my onslaught once Chronosurge wears off. I catch Serval's figure, frozen in time with a hurt, almost betrayed look as she stares at the space I occupied seconds ago.
I shake my head, ignoring the pang of regret. No time for that now.
With a flourish, I produce two smoke grenades and one of Herta's serums, pulling the pins as Chronosurge reaches its limit. "Run!" I yell, my voice strained as I collapse to my knees, the surge of power leaving me drained.
March and Dan are prepared, bolting through the opening I've created as the troops cry out in pain and confusion. The smoke bombs detonate, filling the air with thick clouds that should buy us precious time.
"What are you doing?!" March cries, eyes wide as I jam the syringe into my shoulder, teeth clenched against the burning sensation of the serum coursing through my veins.
"I'll explain later," I grunt, forcing myself back to my feet. "We need to move!"
We break into a run, fleeing through the Commercial District as shouts and orders echo behind us. Dan keeps pace easily, his expression intense.
"What's the plan?" he asks urgently.
"We make for Backwater Pass," I respond, breath coming in ragged gasps. "It's overrun by the Fragmentum — they won't be able to follow us closely."
March's eyes widen in alarm. "That's not a good idea!" she protests.
I shoot her a pointed look. "You have a better one?"
Before she can answer, a deafening roar fills the air as a barrage of explosions erupts directly in our path. I instinctively raise my arms to shield my face as March's quick reflexes activate a shimmering barrier around us, the shield deflecting the deadly blasts.
The recoil sends us staggering back, but we remain unharmed as the smoke clears to reveal a dozen Silvermane cannoneers stationed on the rooftops, their heavy artillery trained on our position.
"Damn it," I curse, whirling to face the new threat as Silvermane forces close in from all sides, cutting off our escape routes.
March glances at me, fear and determination mingling in her eyes. "I can use Glacial Cascade to slow them down," she offers, nodding at the encroaching soldiers. "You handle the cannoneers!"
I feel the agony coursing through my veins as I activate Chronosurge once more, the world shifting into a grayscale haze. A sharp ringing sensation pierces my ears, and I wince, feeling something pop deep within. I push through the discomfort, whipping out my pistols and firing another rapid volley at the cannoneers.
Time slows to a crawl as the bullets soar through the air, and I quickly summon two more grenades from my belt, their casings marked with an electric symbol. With a flick of my wrist, I send one hurtling towards a group of soldiers to my right, the other arcing over my shoulder to detonate amidst the troops surging in from behind, trying to pin us down.
Chronosurge reaches its limit, and the world snaps back into full color and motion. The bullets find their marks, some striking arms and shoulders, others knocking weapons from stunned hands as the soldiers scramble for cover. I can't help but yelp as a sharp ache blossoms in my chest, the after-effects taking their toll.
March lets out a battle cry beside me, and I turn just in time to see her launch a massive arrow towards the Lieutenants blocking our path. The projectile shatters mid-flight, breaking apart into dozens of pom-pom-sized ice dolls that pepper the guards, knocking them back and freezing them to the ground.
Without hesitation, Dan lunges forward in an impossibly fast blur, his lance leading the way as he crashes through the barricade of shield-bearing soldiers obstructing our escape route. A flurry of kicks and swipes follows, and ten guards crumple to the ground, unconscious.
"Follow me!" Dan yells, motioning for us to move.
March rushes to my side, slinging my arm over her shoulders and helping me to my feet. We take off at a sprint, forcing our way through the chaos and confusion, desperately trying to reach Dan before the forces can regroup and cut off our getaway.
Dan curses out loud, frustration etched on his face. "They must have every damn soldier looking for us. There are just way too many of them!"
March's gaze scans our surroundings, finally settling on a narrow alleyway nearby. "Over there!" she exclaims, pointing towards the shadowy passage. "We could regroup in that alley, at least for a moment."
She turns to me, her expression determined. "Xander, can you throw some smoke bombs to cut us off from sight? It'll give us a chance to slip into the alley unnoticed."
I nod, gritting my teeth against the searing ache in my chest. "Great thinking, March." Reaching into my dimensional pouch, I pull out four more smoke grenades and prime them.
With a flick of my wrist, I send them hurtling towards the ground, creating a thick veil of smoke that rapidly engulfs the area. Seizing the opportunity, I activate Chronosurge once more, the world shifting into grayscale as my perception accelerates.
Whipping out my pistols, I open suppressive fire on the troops. The bullets find their marks, forcing the soldiers to scatter and take cover. Chronosurge reaches its end even more quickly now, and the surge of it leaves me gasping for air, my vision blurring.
"Let's move!" Dan shouts, grabbing my arm and hauling me towards the alleyway. March rushes ahead, her barrier shimmering into existence as we plunge into the shadows, the smoke concealing our flight.
Once we're safely out of sight, Dan immediately begins scanning our surroundings, eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other. "We need to find a way out of here," he mutters, tense. "I'll go on ahead and map out a potential escape route."
March helps me lean against the wall, concern filling her gaze as she grips my shoulders. "Are you alright, Xander?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Before I can respond, my vision blurs once more, and the alleyway dissolves into darkness. March's worried look melts away, replaced by one of sheer terror as a towering figure looms over her, its piercing golden eyes boring into her soul.
Nanook.
The Aeon of Destruction casts a long shadow, its very presence seeming to suck the warmth from the air. March trembles, frozen in fear, as Nanook reaches out a clawed hand towards her.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I instinctively move to shield March, but my limbs feel like lead, refusing to obey my commands. Panic grips me as I struggle against the invisible bonds holding me in place, helpless to protect her.
Suddenly, the vision shatters, and I find myself back in the alley, my hand outstretched towards March's face. She blinks at me, her eyes wide with confusion, but otherwise unharmed.
I exhale shakily, relief flooding through me as I realize it was just a hallucination. A side effect from overexerting myself. Pushing aside the lingering dread, I focus on the present moment.
With a trembling hand, I cup March's cheek, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"
She nods slowly, concern etched on her brow. "I'm fine, but..." Her gaze drops to my shoulder. "What was that serum you injected yourself with? Your body is trembling."
I pull my hand away, averting my gaze as the sound of the guards echoes from the alley entrance. "Where did they go?" one of them shouts, voice laced with frustration.
Turning back to March, I meet her questioning stare with a resolute look. "I'll tell you about it," I mutter. "But we need to keep moving first."
Gripping her hand tightly, I make a move to continue down the alley, but March holds her ground, stopping me in my tracks. She looks at me with an intensity I've never seen from her before, eyes boring into mine.
"Promise me you'll tell the truth," she demands, her voice firm and unwavering.
I hesitate for a split second, caught off guard by her sudden forcefulness. But as I search her gaze, I see a genuine desire for honesty, a plea for trust amidst the chaos surrounding us.
Tightening my grip on her hand, I nod solemnly. "The truth," I affirm, my voice steady. "I promise."
March holds my stare for a moment longer, as if gauging the sincerity of my words. Finally, she nods, seeming satisfied.
Together, we make our way deeper into the alley, following the narrow passage until it opens up into a wider intersection. Dan meets us there, his expression grave.
"If we go straight, we'll end up in the main plaza," he explains, voice hushed. "Too many guards. Our best bet is to take a right."
I frown, leaning against the wall for support as I catch my breath. "Won't that just lead us to another street crawling with troops?"
Dan nods grimly. "True, but at least we won't risk being pinned from all sides. If we move quickly, we can cause enough commotion to slip into one of the buildings. From there, we can climb to the rooftops and make our escape."
I mull over his words, considering our options. It's a risky plan, but with our current predicament, we don't have much choice. Turning to March, I offer her a wry smile. "Looks like our lives are in your hands. Be our shield."
March blinks, surprised by my words, but then her expression hardens with determination. Raising her hands, she makes her signature gun gesture, firing off twin shots of energy. A shimmering barrier springs to life around us, a protective sphere of pink and blue sparks.
I can't help but smirk at the sight. "Cute," I remark, earning a chuckle from Dan.
March laughs as well, the tension momentarily broken by the lighthearted exchange. "Let's do this," she declares, her voice brimming with confidence.
With a nod, we take off down the right-hand path, our footsteps echoing against the narrow walls.
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Cocolia lies on the floor, coughing as the remnants of the smoke bombs dissipate around her. The air, thick with the acrid stench of smoke, stings her eyes and throat. She struggles to catch her breath, lungs burning with each ragged inhale.
"Supreme Guardian!" Bronya's voice cuts through the haze, laced with concern. A gentle hand on Cocolia's shoulder prompts her to look up, seeing her adoptive daughter kneeling beside her, worry etched across delicate features.
Bronya offers her hand, helping Cocolia to her feet. She straightens her posture, regaining composure as she surveys the chaotic scene before them.
The once-bustling Starlight Café lies in disarray, with overturned tables and chairs, and shattered glass littering the floor. The few patrons present during the attack cower in corners, faces pale with fear and confusion.
Bronya's voice, steady and all business, reports, "The terrorists have escaped, Supreme Guardian. We should pursue them immediately."
Gepard steps forward, his expression grim. Disheveled, his uniform askew, but eyes sharp and alert. "We shouldn't hastily label them as terrorists," he cautions. "They have yet to confess their motives or affiliations."
Bronya scoffs, lips curling into a sneer. "Their actions speak louder than words, Captain. The way they escaped, the violence they employed – that proves their guilt."
Cocolia raises a hand, silencing the brewing argument. She takes a moment to collect herself, mind whirring as she processes the events that have transpired.
"Hold on," she declares, her voice carrying an air of authority that demands obedience. "Captain, begin questioning the people here. See if anyone can provide information about this so-called Xander and his companions."
Turning her gaze to Bronya, her expression hardens. "And you, Commander, will temporarily detain Serval Landau and bring her in for questioning."
Gepard's eyes widen, and he steps forward, protesting. "Surely you can't be serious, Supreme Guardian," he says, voice tinged with disbelief. "Serval is loyal to Belobog and its citizens. She would never—"
A searing pain lances through Cocolia's skull, and she grits her teeth, fighting back the urge to cry out. The Stellaron's voice echoes in her mind, a harsh, grating whisper demanding obedience.
"Strike him down. He dares to defy you, the chosen one."
Cocolia closes her eyes, willing the voice to silence. She takes a deep, steadying breath, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Are you questioning my orders, Captain Landau?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous.
Gepard hesitates, jaw clenched. For a moment, it seems he might press the issue further, but then his shoulders slump ever so slightly, and he nods.
"No, Supreme Guardian," he says, tone resigned. "I will do as you command."
He turns to survey the café, gaze sweeping over the stage where Serval's band had been performing before the attack. A frown creases his brow, and he whirls back to face Cocolia and Bronya.
"They're gone," he says, voice laced with urgency. "Serval, Lynx, and Pelageya – they're not here anymore."
Cocolia's eyes widen, a surge of dread washing over her. Her mind races, considering the implications of this new development.
The Stellaron's voice rings out once more, a cacophony of whispers urging her to act, to hunt down those who dare to defy her. Cocolia grits her teeth, struggling to maintain her composure as the voice grows louder, more insistent.
"Find them. Crush them. Leave no stone unturned."
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I rush across the rooftops alongside Dan Heng and March, our footsteps echoing against the tiles. Behind us, a group of Silvermane guards gives chase, their boots pounding the cobblestones below. They pause to take shots, but March's barrier deflects the bullets that dare come our way.
March stops, brow furrowed in concentration. With a flick of her wrist, she launches a volley of frozen arrows at our pursuers. Her accuracy is otherworldly, each projectile finding its mark and freezing the guards in place, their bodies encased in ice.
As we gain ground, a new threat emerges - a group of Silvermane cannoneers perched on a nearby rooftop, firing heavy rounds at us. Reacting quickly, I grab Dan Heng and March, throwing us to the ground behind nearby structures for cover. March's shields flare to life, absorbing the worst of the cannon fire.
Teeth gritted, I whip out my pistols and return fire, forcing the cannoneers to take cover and cease their assault. Reloading, I notice the structure they're firing from - unfinished, with visible flaws and weaknesses.
A thought occurs. Should I try that?
Having recovered, I do not hesitate to activate Chronosurge, staying still. Breathing deeply, I let my hyperstimulated senses take over. With careful attention, I study the unfinished building, heightened perception picking up every detail - cracks in the foundation, strains on the support beams, weak points in the flooring.
Enhanced hearing makes out the creaking floorboards under the weight of the cannoneers and their equipment. I quickly locate the optimal spots to strike, points where a well-placed shot would deal the most damage and collapse the floor.
Reaching for Neuromorphic Armament, I murmur, "Listen to my wish. Bend to my will."
The sword ripples like liquid metal,
I take a deep breath, eyes closed. I think of Nanook, the Aeon of Destruction, feeling the weight of their path. The Stellaron within me resonates with that power, that primal force of entropy and annihilation.
An arrow of pure, white energy takes shape in my hand, crackling with barely contained power. Eyes open, I take aim.
Breath in…. And exhale.
The arrow flies true, streaking across the rooftops and slamming into the unfinished building with a deafening boom. The effect is instantaneous - the floor collapses, sending the cannoneers and their equipment crashing down to the level below.
As Chronosurge's effect ends, I clutch my chest where the Stellaron resides, rasping, "That hurts."
March and Dan Heng look at me, eyes wide at the display of power they've witnessed. The lancer sighs, shaking his head. "Another secret you'll have to explain later?"
He moves to support me, slinging my arm over his shoulder as I strain against the pain. "Try to avoid using that again if it's such a burden," he advises.
Instead of questioning me, March places her hand over mine, atop my chest. A cool sensation washes over me as she channels her ice powers, trying to provide relief from the agony. I close my eyes, savoring the momentary respite.
"Thank you," I murmur, "both of you."
Dan's eyes narrow, studying me. "Did you do something we don't know about that pissed off Cocolia?" Suspicion laces his voice.
March looks at him, hesitating, then turns to me. "Xander, I don't like Dan's questioning, but he's right. We deserve to know if you've done something. You've been out late at night, and also leaving early in the mornings. Did you raise any alarms with the Architects or the Silvermane guards?"
I look down, thinking deeply before meeting their gazes. "I've lied about many things," I confess. "But I swear on my parents' names that I didn't do anything to trigger this damned crusade."
Shaking my head, frustration creeps into my tone. "I've been more than careful, especially in my dealings with Pela, Serval, and Gepard. I know I haven't messed up, just as I know you two have been as careful."
Dan exhales in relief, shoulders relaxing slightly. "That still leaves us with too many questions, brother," he says playfully, catching me off guard.
Frowning, I try to make sense of the situation when my father's words echo in my mind, clear as day.
Alexander, it wouldn't have mattered whether you lied or not.
I curse out loud at the realization. Dan raises an eyebrow, concerned. "What's going on?"
March shushes him, sensing the gravity of the moment.
"This is my fault."
Gripping the fabric of my vest tighter, just above my heart, I see understanding dawn in Dan's eyes.
"The Stellaron?" he whispers.
I nod. "Think about it. All Stellarons, no matter where they appear, come from the same source."
"Nanook," March breathes, thoughts racing.
"Exactly," I confirm. "They're all connected to the Aeon. It's not far-fetched that my Stellaron makes me connected to Belobog's. The thing must have sensed me, alerting Cocolia the moment we landed on Jarilo-VI. She must have gathered information on us, deciding it was the right time to strike while at the Starlight Café."
Dan considers my words. "I see the logic," he admits. "But what makes you so sure?"
"Remember what Serval confessed? She was investigating a lead that could be the cause of the Eternal Freeze. Cocolia shut it down without justification and fired her from the Architects."
March's eyes widen. "You think they were investigating the Stellaron? But why hide that it's responsible for freezing everything?"
"Stellarons act like sentient beings. They project Nanook's desires onto people, tempting them, messing with their minds, influencing their actions towards destruction. Of families, communities, cities, countries...entire planets."
Taking a deep breath, I look at March and Dan. "Cocolia knows about the Stellaron. She has to. The moment I mentioned it, her eyes betrayed a desire to eradicate me on the spot."
Dan nods grimly. "We should leave this for later," he says, glancing around cautiously. "Backwater Pass is nearby. We need to move before more guards catch up."
Turning to me, Dan asks, "You good to go?"
I look at March, silently asking permission. She nods, removing her hand from my chest, the cool sensation dissipating. "I'm good," I confirm, gritting my teeth against the lingering pain.
Dusting off our clothes, we leap onto a nearby rooftop, using the momentum to propel ourselves forward. Jumping from roof to roof, we finally climb down exterior chimney pipes into an alley.
Dan peers over the corner, scanning the streets. "No sign of guards. Looks clear."
As we're crossing the road, my senses flare. I react instinctively, pushing March out of the way with all my strength.
A crushing weight slams into Dan and me, pinning us. Gravity intensifies tenfold, every movement a monumental struggle. Dan's body smashes against the cobblestones, face contorted in agony as he tries to push himself up.
Barely able to raise my chest from the floor, face pressed against the rough surface, I struggle to breathe. Through gritted teeth, I catch sight of familiar gravity cannons whirling above us, pulsing with blue energy.
With great effort, I turn my head, straining to mouth the words. "Pelageya... Sergeyevna..."
The Intelligence Officer emerges from the corner of one of the nearby buildings, regarding us coldly behind the glare of her glasses.
March summons her bow and arrow, ready to retaliate, but Pela raises a hand in warning. "I wouldn't risk it," she says sternly.
March freezes, sensing a presence behind her. Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she gasps at Serval standing at the corner of another building, modified electric guitar aimed directly at us. Electricity dances along the cords, crackling with raw power.
Straining against the crushing force, I raise my head and look at Serval, imploring her with my eyes. "Please," I rasp out. "Don't hurt March."
For a second, Serval's eyes widen in surprise. But then her gaze hardens, fury simmering behind them.
Pela cuts through the tension. "That depends on whether you answer our questions. Truthfully this time. Will you kindly do that… Xander? Is that even your real name?"
With a subtle gesture, Pela's gravity cannons ease up just enough for me to speak without my lungs being crushed. I take a shallow breath.
"I'll answer your questions," I say, meeting Pela's gaze. "But I need your guarantee Dan Heng and March won't be harmed."
Dan and March try to protest, but I silence them with a stern look.
Pela scoffs, unimpressed. "You don't have room or right to make demands. Especially after hurting so many Silvermane Guards in your escape attempt."
My eyes harden at her words, protective anger surging through me. "That was self-defense," I snarl. "I won't apologize for protecting those under my care."
Pela regards me coolly, adjusting her glasses casually in a way that only infuriates me more. "Very well, then. Let us ignore your words for a moment and list out your crimes instead: destruction of public property, destruction of private property, resisting arrest, injuring dozens of officers of the law, and an attempt to harm our Supreme Guardian."
She pauses, letting the weight sink in. "You're looking at decades in jail for the last one alone. If you answer our questions, I can put in a good word so your companions don't have to rot within the confines of a cell for so long, unlike your case."
My eyes narrow, the Stellaron stirring within me, reacting to my building fury. The golden hue of my irises intensifies, molten and smoldering like liquid metal.
I don't say a word.
Pela takes my silence as defiance. "What is your name?" she demands icily.
"Xander," I grit out, jaw clenched tight.
Frowning at my answer, she flicks her wrist slightly. The gravity cannons increase their force, pressing me even harder. I grunt in pain involuntarily, body trembling with the effort of resistance.
"Your name," Pela repeats, tone frigid.
Closing my eyes, I draw a shallow, shuddering breath. Images of my parents flash through my mind – my mother's warm embrace, my father's reassuring smile. Filled with renewed determination, I resolve to stay true to myself, no matter what.
Opening my eyes, they burn with inner fire, the golden hue almost blinding in its intensity. "Xander is short for Alexander. My full name is Alexander
I feel March, Serval, and Dan Heng's gazes boring into the back of my neck, regarding me with newfound curiosity. But I focus solely on Pela and the gravity cannons holding the lancer and myself captive.
"And your companions?" Pela prompts, a hint of intrigue in her tone.
"March 7th and Dan Heng," I reply without hesitation.
Pela nods, eyes narrowing. "Who are you, and where are you from?"
I take a deep breath, bracing for the fallout. "We're members of the Astral Express, Nameless who travel the stars in Akivili's name on the path of the Trailblaze. March's origins are unknown – our crew found her in space, alone, encased in layers of six-phased ice. Dan Heng is from the Xianzhou Alliance."
I pause, letting the information sink in. Pela's expression remains impassive, but I see a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
"And yourself?" she prompts, voice carefully neutral.
Meeting her gaze head-on, I answer unflinchingly. "A place called Earth."
Pela's reaction is instantaneous. With a sharp gesture, the gravity cannons intensify, slamming Dan Heng and me harder against the unforgiving surface, the cobblestone painfully hard against our skin. Dan grunts in agony as the pressure threatens to crush him.
My eyes blaze with fury at the sight. I turn to glare at Pela, jaw clenched so tight the muscles in my neck strain. "Hold me down if you want. Hell, have Serval shock me twenty times over," I growl, voice low and dangerous. "But damn you if you hurt them! I'm telling you the truth!"
Pela regards me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, brow furrowed in thought. "Are you actually aliens, then?" Skepticism laces her tone.
I bark out a harsh laugh, the sound devoid of humor. "A crude way of describing us, but yes, we are from other worlds."
Pela frowns, displeased. "You pointedly lied about being from Belobog's Underworld. What is your actual purpose here?"
I strain against the force holding me down, gritting my teeth as I lock eyes with Serval. She stiffens, tightening her grip on her guitar as she meets my gaze, eyes widening slightly at the intensity burning within my molten irises.
Meeting her gaze unflinchingly, I ask, "You want to know our purpose here? Fine, I'll tell you. The Astral Express, our ship, got stuck in Jarilo-VI's orbit. We can't move until we solve the disturbance preventing us from leaving. Your planet's Stellaron."
Serval's eyes widen. She lowers her guitar slightly, recognition passing over her features. "So I didn't hear wrong," she murmurs. "You really said 'Stellaron' back at the Starlight Café."
Pela frowns, confused. "What's a Stellaron?"
I turn my gaze back to her, eyes cold and unforgiving. "Do you really want to know?" I challenge, my tone a warning. "You'll likely join me in your citadel's darkest dungeons if I tell you. Your dear Supreme Guardian won't be happy with you knowing about it. Isn't that right, Serval?"
Pela's head snaps towards her bandmate, demanding an explanation. "Serval, what is he talking about?"
Serval doesn't look at her, eyes zeroed in on me, hands gripping her guitar tight. "How do you know about it?" she whispers.
"Stellarons aren't exclusive to Belobog, Serval. They're seeds planted by an Aeon called Nanook, scattered across the universe. They're known by most intergalactic species as the cancer of all worlds, for they bring destruction to the ecosystems they appear in." I pause. "Sound familiar?"
Pela's voice takes on a visibly tenser tone as she demands, "Serval, again, what is he talking about?"
Ignoring Pela's demands, I continue. "How could Alisa Rand, she who evokes miracles, end a 30-year war in a single day? She asked the Stellaron for help. It corrupted her mind over time, and when all seemed lost, when the Preservation's strength wasn't enough to defeat the enemy, she listened, gave in to temptation, and made a single wish. The Eternal Freeze was the result."
Serval's eyes grow wide with horror. She takes a step back, shaking her head in denial.
Pela's voice is strained, frustration evident. "What blasphemy are you even spouting? Serval, answer me!"
I ignore her, speaking directly to the rockstar. "Throughout the past seven centuries, the Stellaron continued holding influence over all Supreme Guardians. Alisa Rand was just the first. Svetlana, Alexandra, Fainka, Alina, Cyrille... Cocolia."
Serval recoils, grip on her guitar loosening, her lips parting in a silent gasp as the truth sinks in.
Pela's voice turns outraged. "Serval Landau, answer me this instant—"
The moment I feel the gravity cannons' strength lower the tiniest bit thanks to Pela's loss of focus, I don't waste a breath. Activating Chronosurge, the world turns to shades of gray as my perception of time slows to a crawl.
Teeth gritted, I strain against the immense gravity pinning me, struggling to flex my legs so my knees support me along with my arms. "Damn it!" I growl, using every ounce of strength to crawl. Slowly, agonizingly, but surely, I inch my way out of the cannons' range.
Eerie yet familiar voices echo within the confines of my mind. "You won't make it."
I recognize them instantly – Belobog's Stellaron, the malevolent force tormenting Cocolia and every Supreme Guardian before her.
"Shut up," I grunt, redoubling my efforts to escape gravity's pull.
"What will you do after?" they taunt. "Escape to Backwater Pass, then what? You've already failed."
"Shut up!" I snarl, pushing through the agony as I continue crawling.
The voices grow louder, alarmed at my success in dragging myself out of range. "No one believes in you! The Captain doesn't. The Intelligence Officer doesn't. Your tragic would-be lover doesn't! You've lost!"
"I haven't lost!" I exclaim in my mind, defiance surging through me like a raging fire. "I'm not losing now either! Not until I see those I love again!"
With a final, agonizing heave, I successfully crawl out of the cannons' range and force myself to my feet, swaying from exertion. Catching my breath, I walk up behind Pela, wrapping my arms around her neck in a rear choke hold.
I look at Dan Heng and March, both frozen in time and shock, staring at where I had just been. "Those two still believe in me, and that's enough," I rasp.
"You won't win," they promise, laced with venom.
My voice turns to steel, unwavering. "I will see to your end," I vow, eyes burning with intense golden fire. "Count on that."
Chronosurge ends, and Pela's body goes limp immediately, knocked unconscious by my choke hold. Her gravity cannons clatter to the ground, energy cut off as she loses consciousness. Dan Heng sighs in relief, the crushing weight lifted.
Before Pela drops, I grab her, lowering her gently. I look up, noticing Serval struggling to process how the situation has radically changed in less than a blink. "Pela!"
March doesn't miss a beat, whirling around with her bow and arrow drawn. She launches the frozen projectile at Serval without hesitation.
Serval adapts quickly, swerving right to avoid the arrow. She strums her guitar, launching a volley of crackling thunderbolts directly at us.
As the lightning streaks our way, I react on pure instinct, drawing upon countless hours of training in the simulated universe. In the blink of an eye, I activate Chronosurge once more, the world slowing to a crawl as my senses sharpen to superhuman levels, jumping in front of March.
I reach for Neuromorphic Armament, the blade shimmering with otherworldly light. "Bend to my will," I whisper, my voice echoing in the stillness. The sword responds, shifting and morphing into a sleek, high-tech shield.
Planting my feet firmly, I brace myself, raising the shield to intercept the incoming bolts. The lightning crashes against the surface, the force reverberating through my entire body. But the shield holds true, absorbing and redirecting the energy in a dazzling display of technological prowess.
Through gritted teeth, I focus my mind, reaching out to the electromagnetic field generated by the Curio. With a surge of concentration, I manipulate it, adjusting its strength and direction with pinpoint precision. The field pulses and fluctuates, responding like an extension of my own body. I sense the charged particles within the lightning bolts, the electrons and ions surging and crackling with destructive potential.
I watch in fascination as they bend and curve, their paths twisting and distorting under the electromagnetic field's influence. The bolts' energy is siphoned away, dissipating into the surrounding air as heat and light. The shield's field acts like a conductor, guiding the electrical current along its lines of force and neutralizing its destructive potential.
Grim satisfaction fills me as I watch the bolts dissipate harmlessly into the air. I'll have to thank Herta for her rant about the
As Chronosurge's effect ends and time resumes its normal flow, I lower the shield, chest heaving with exertion. Locking eyes with Serval, a silent challenge in my molten gaze, I ask, "Will you really hurt my own? With the very weapon you built together with the monster responsible for all this?"
Serval hesitates, grip on her guitar loosening slightly as she stares at me in disbelief. "How can you say that after—" Her voice trembles with emotion.
I cut her off. "I only knocked Pela unconscious. I'd never aim to hurt any of you."
Serval's gaze shifts over my shoulder to her friend's unconscious form lying on the floor. The intelligence officer looks serene, as if merely asleep. After a moment, Serval's grip on her guitar tightens once more, knuckles white.
I regard her sadly, hating that we've come to this. "Will you really make me fight you, Serval?"
She doesn't hesitate, eyes blazing with hurt and determination. "How can you expect me not to fight back against a potential threat to my people? Both you and them!"
As she speaks, I feel Neuromorphic Armament begin to shift in my hand, the Curio morphing back into its original sword shape. Out of the corner of my eye, I see March slowly step back to help Dan stand, his body still recovering from the gravity cannons' effects.
Meeting Serval's gaze, my eyes reflect the hurt her words caused. "Say what you want about me. I don't have the right to say anything, not after what I've done. But not about them. They've never been a threat to you, your people, or your family. Our goal has always been to seal the Stellaron in Belobog, in turn helping its people."
Serval shakes her head, anguish and betrayal on her face. "How can I believe that, knowing everything you said was a lie?"
My grip on my sword tightens, knuckles white. "Not everything," I whisper.
Silence hangs heavy, thick with tension and unspoken emotions. Serval hesitates, considering my words. "Your uncle…?" Uncertainty laces her voice.
I nod grimly. "Dead. Killed in what was likely an orchestrated car accident for his beliefs. I continued learning guitar in honor of what he taught me."
Serval's eyes widen slightly, lips parting in a silent gasp. After a moment, she regains composure, gaze hardening. "Your old sweetheart…?"
I avert my gaze, the pain of that loss still raw and aching. "I don't know. She's very, very far away now. Worlds or universes apart, who can say? I'm not guaranteed to ever see her again."
Serval's eyes flicker towards Dan and March, expression unreadable. "Are they...really your siblings?"
March looks at Serval, supporting Dan as one of his arms is slung over her shoulders. I turn my gaze towards the bubbly girl, mind drifting back to her words in the simulated universe.
Whenever you're ready and in need of a friend, remember you can always find one in me.
A pang of affection for the amnesiac fills me, a bond stronger than I ever anticipated. Turning back to Serval, I offer a pained smile. "No… not by blood, at least. I…"
I trail off, surprised by the realization dawning on me. I'd like them to be.
Serval considers my words, pain etching her features. Biting her lip, she asks in a whisper, "Did you actually feel something for me? Anything…?"
It pains me to speak the truth aloud. "I did," I confess, voice heavy with regret.
Instead of finding solace or sadness in my admission, fury and rage paint Serval's face. She raises her hand, about to strum her guitar and unleash another volley of crackling thunderbolts.
But I'm quicker. Activating Chronosurge, I move with blinding speed, appearing behind Serval in the blink of an eye. Wrapping my arms around her, I secure her in a rear choke hold. "I'm sorry," I whisper, genuine remorse lacing my voice.
Serval's body goes limp in my arms. I pick her up carefully, walking back to where Pela's unconscious form lies, and lower her to the ground, right next to the Intelligence Officer. March and Dan watch in silence as I take a moment to study her features – her beautiful face, her blonde and blue-streaked hair. She looks peaceful, and for a fleeting moment, I allow myself to indulge in the what-ifs.
What if I had known the rebel rockstar when I was young? I would have likely met her while living in Argentina. She would have come from a Russian immigrant family and given no shits about Rosario's local drug lords or general insecurity. She'd be the same overprotective and loud older sister.
Most of all, I know deep in my heart that despite all I went through during that time, despite all my mistakes… she would have never quit on me.
Unable to resist, I reach out and gently caress her cheek with the back of my hand, committing her features to memory. Then, with a heavy heart, I rise and turn to face March and Dan. "Let's go," I say, my voice gruff with emotion.
Dan eyes the unconscious forms of Pela and Serval with concern. "Is it really fine to leave them alone like this?"
I shake my head, offering a reassuring smile. "They won't be alone. Isn't that right, Lynx?"
As if on cue, a figure emerges from the shadows of a nearby rooftop, gracefully climbing down to join us.
Lynx, the youngest Landau sibling, regards us warily in her hood with lynx ear attachments and her white and aqua jacket. Her gaze flickers between March, Dan, and me, before settling on the unconscious forms of her sister Serval and Pela. She shakes her head slightly, then moves closer to them, crouching down to check their conditions in silence.
The tension is palpable as we wait for Lynx to finish her assessment. Finally, she straightens up, expression unreadable as she turns to face us once more.
"All Silvermane Guards likely suspect you'll go to Backwater Pass," she says, voice clinical and detached. "You don't have a shot at getting past them."
I meet her gaze unflinchingly, not a shred of surprise or concern on my face. "Good to know. Take care of your sister, will you?"
Lynx's eyes narrow slightly as she looks back at Serval, expression softening ever so slightly. "I don't need your words to know what I have to do," she says, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Kindly get lost. You hurt her."
I fall silent for a moment, considering her words. "True enough," I finally say, turning to leave.
Without another word, I motion for March and Dan to follow me, and we make our way through the alley we originally meant to go through. I can't help but glance back over my shoulder one last time, catching a glimpse of Lynx crouched beside her sister, hand gently brushing Serval's hair back from her face.
A pang of regret tugs at my heart, but I quickly push it aside, steeling my resolve. There's no time for sentimentality, not when so much is at stake.
The air is thick with tension as we make our way through the maze of alleys, footsteps echoing against the narrow walls. March and Dan stay close, eyes darting around warily, alert for any sign of danger.
True to Lynx's words, as we approach Backwater Pass's entrance, dozens of Silvermane Guards are stationed there, surveilling the area with hawk-like vigilance.
March glances at me, expression determined. "I can always use Glacial Cascade again if we need to make quick work of them. At least to buy us enough time to use the visible Fragmentum portals to get inside the district."
Before I can respond, Dan suddenly whirls around, eyes wide with alarm. "Get down!" he shouts, diving towards March and me.
I react on pure instinct, wrapping my arms around March and shielding her body with my own as we hit the ground. A sharp, searing pain lances through the back of my right arm, and I grit my teeth, stifling a grunt of agony. I've been shot!
A quick glance over my shoulder reveals the source of the attack – Bronya, her rifle raised and eyes blazing with determination. Damn it, she must have been following us and got alerted to our presence thanks to Serval's guitar.
"Stand down!" Bronya shouts, voice echoing in the stillness of the alley.
I turn to March and Dan, expression grim. "Run toward the district's entrance. I'll figure something out with Chronosurge if we can't handle the number of guards."
March nods, eyes shining with trust as she activates her barriers, shimmering energy fields enveloping us in a protective cocoon. Dan readies his lance, stance tense and battle-ready.
As we burst into the open, the response is immediate. Dozens of Silvermane Guards perched on rooftops and scattered across the street open fire, rifles and cannons unleashing a torrent of deadly projectiles.
I grit my teeth, straining to focus as I activate Chronosurge once more. The world around me slows to a crawl, and I feel a familiar ringing in my ears, signaling the strain on my body.
Ignoring the searing pain, I use my hyper-enhanced senses to mark every guard in the vicinity, counting twenty-four in total. Four are perched atop the tallest building's rooftop directly opposite Backwater Pass's entrance, while another quartet is stationed in the adjacent structure. Eight guards have taken cover behind a makeshift barricade at the district's threshold, unleashing a hail of gunfire in our direction. The remaining sentries are dispersed throughout the street, their positions strategically chosen to cut off any potential escape routes.
I dematerialize Neuromorphic Armament, reaching for one of my pistols with my remaining good hand. I take aim at one of the far-off building's cannoneers, lining up the shot perfectly with his head.
Just as I'm about to squeeze the trigger, a familiar voice echoes in my mind, causing me to freeze.
"Alex, he could have a family," my mother's gentle tones whisper, as if she's standing right beside me.
I grip the gun tighter, knuckles white. Her voice continues, wrapping around me like a tender embrace, warm and comforting.
"Maybe he's a father," she murmurs. "Maybe there's a woman waiting for him back home, hoping to spend time together with him alongside a child who yearns for their strength and presence. Are you willing to rob them of a parent so easily? Leave them stranding and alone, just like the countless families you saw back in Cali and Rosario?"
My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I'm transported back to those dark days, memories of shattered lives and broken homes flashing before my eyes.
"What about Dan Heng? What about March? What about me surviving another day so I can come back to you…?" I ask, voice strained.
A gentle smile curves my mother's lips. "Son, when have you ever doubted your capabilities? I thought I taught you better than that."
My lips tremble as I struggle to hold back the tide of emotions.
"You are strong," she says, voice unwavering. "You can save your new family, and you can come back to us without robbing anyone of their own."
Suddenly, I feel her hand press against the inner pocket of my coat, warmth spreading through the fabric. My eyes widen as I realize what she's guiding my senses to – the cross pendant.
"If you don't feel you can make the shot, ask Him to make it for you," she whispers, her hand guiding mine to tighten around the pistol's grip.
A sense of strength and determination fills my chest, the pain from Chronosurge's strain momentarily forgotten. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and allow my hyper-senses to guide me.
Lord… help me, please!
When I open them again, my gaze is filled with resolution. I raise the pistol, taking careful aim at the rifles and cannons held by the Silvermane Guards.
Eight shots ring out in quick succession, each bullet finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy, shattering the weapons of the guards on the rooftops. I chamber another round, reloading with lightning speed, and unleash another volley of eight shots, targeting the guards scattered throughout the street.
With a final, decisive motion, I reload once more and fire the last eight shots, ensuring any remaining sentries are disarmed.
As Chronosurge's effect ends and time resumes its normal flow, the sound of shattering metal and yelps of surprise fill the air. The Silvermane Guards recoil in shock as their rifles and cannons break apart in their hands, the force of the impacts causing many to drop to the ground.
"Run!" I shout, motioning for March 7th and Dan Heng to make their way across the open street.
They don't need to be told twice. They break into a sprint, feet pounding against the pavement as they race towards Backwater Pass's entrance. I follow closely behind, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings.
Despite the gravity of the situation, March can't resist looking back over her shoulder at Bronya, whipping out a quick wink while sticking out her tongue. "Have an 'Ice' day!" she quips, voice laced with mischief.
Bronya's expression turns furious, eyes narrowing with determination. "As if I'd let you!" she snarls, grabbing her rifle with a single arm and raising it high into the air.
The air around her begins to whip furiously, gaining strength, and I can sense the power building within her. "To guard and defend... Crush them, Captain!" she shouts, voice ringing with authority.
A blur appears from behind her, gaining speed and heading straight for us. I have a brief moment to look back when I see Gepard right upon us. "The hell—"
"In the name of Landau!" he bellows, slamming his massive Earthwork shield onto the ground with incredible force. An ice structure forms immediately from the ground below us, protruding upwards with incredible speed and launching all of us into the air.
We all yelp in pain as we're flung across the street in various directions. I recoil as I hit the ground, landing on my injured right arm and grunting from the spike of pain the impact generates. I force myself to get up, eyes locked onto the male Landau, frustration rising to impossible levels. "Are you seriously this damn stubborn?"
Gepard looks back at me, expression furious. "I'll bring you to justice, Xander," he growls, "but I hope you won't mind if I try to take in a few shots. You hurt my dear sisters."
My voice is scathing in response. "You dare say that... while serving the one responsible for all the pain Serval has gone through!"
"Lies and deceit!" Gepard roars, Bronya joining him at his side while March and Dan get up from the ground.
"It's the damn truth, you naive imbecile!" I shout back, anger reaching a boiling point. "And you'll have to kill me before you lay a hand on them!"
I'm prepared to activate Chronosurge once more, consequences be damned. March has an arrow nocked and drawn, ready to let it fly at the slightest provocation. Dan, coiled like a spring, is set to launch himself at Bronya in a whirlwind of deadly precision. The air crackles with the anticipation of imminent violence.
But just as the situation threatens to explode, three spherical smoke bombs suddenly drop from above, clattering to the ground between our two groups. The unexpected interruption shatters the tension, leaving us all momentarily frozen in confusion.
"Those aren't mine—"
Before I can finish my thought, the bombs detonate with a series of sharp pops, filling the air with thick, billowing smoke. An acrid gas mingles with the haze, its numbing effects spreading rapidly as we begin to cough and choke, our lungs burning with each labored breath.
Bronya struggles to speak, her voice strained and hoarse. "What— what is this?" she manages to rasp out, her words punctuated by fits of coughing.
March gasps beside me, her eyes wide with panic as she clutches at her throat. "I can't breathe," she wheezes, her knees buckling as the gas takes hold.
I squint through the swirling smoke, my eyes watering and vision blurring as I try to make out the source of this unexpected interruption. A tall, masculine figure emerges from within the clouds, striding towards us with a flourish and comedic poise that seems entirely out of place amidst the chaos.
"I have one thing to say," the figure declares, his voice cutting through the haze like a knife. As he draws closer, the unmistakable form of Sampo Koski becomes clear, his features twisted into a wry grin. "Sampo never lets friends who've helped him come to harm."
He finishes his approach, coming to a stop directly in front of me, his arms spread wide in a gesture of welcome, that infuriating smile still plastered across his face. My vision begins to darken at the edges, the numbing effects of the gas taking hold, but Sampo's words echo in my mind, refusing to be silenced.
"Remember what I told you back then, Alexander?" he asks, his tone laced with a knowing smugness. "I say what I mean... and I mean what I say."
Confusion wars with the encroaching darkness in my mind, a thousand questions racing through my thoughts as I struggle to make sense of Sampo's cryptic statement.
"How the hell do you even know my name...?" I manage to croak out, my words slurred and barely audible, before everything fades to black, and unconsciousness claims me.
——————————————————————
Cocolia stands before the imposing machine, its core housing a brilliant yellow Stellaron sealed tightly within. Large cables protrude from the sides, as if it were some sort of battery designed to power something monumental. The harsh winds of the tundra whip at her face, but she remains unflinching, eyes fixed on the radiant glow.
Hands tighten into fists. She speaks aloud, voice carrying a weight belying her youthful appearance. "They will suffer, sacrifice, and die. Because of my orders."
The words reverberate through the barren landscape. In response, a cacophony of voices echoes within her mind, a chorus straining to soothe but failing miserably. "It is not death which greets them..." the Stellaron replies, words laced with unsettling dissonance. "They'll be swept into a new world's infancy."
Cocolia hesitates, struggling to digest the implications. "And the Underworlders?" Unease claws at her chest. "They will lose the protection of the Architects. They will see me... as a tyrant."
The Stellaron's voice shifts, harsh and chastising, its light flaring brighter as if judging her wavering resolve. "You've witnessed... the world we promised."
Shame burns in Cocolia's eyes, shoulders sagging under the reprimand's weight.
But then, the voice turns soothing once more, a jarring contrast. "A temporary misunderstanding... for an eternity of prosperity. We will honor... your decision."
Silence descends, broken only by howling wind and hissing snow. Cocolia remains motionless, eyes closed, weighing her choices' gravity.
An eternity passes. She opens her eyes, depths burning with resolve. Gaze turning back to the Stellaron, her expression hardens with determination. "I understand."
How wrong she'd been.
She'd understood nothing.
——————————————————————
Bronya's eyes flicker open, greeted by a low wooden ceiling. Blinking slowly, she reorients herself as voices drift into her consciousness.
"...Those toys of yours aren't that dangerous," a woman's voice says, maternal tone unmistakable.
A male voice, laced with chastisement, retorts, "Then why hasn't he woken up, Miss Natasha?"
"Because he's sound asleep." The woman's, Natasha's, words hang in the air.
Bronya takes in her surroundings. White walls, wooden floor of the same material as the ceiling. A red geomarrow lamp's comforting warmth permeates the space, bathing the room in orange and yellow hues.
Her gaze shifts to Natasha, a middle-aged woman with striking purple eyes and blue-gray hair styled in a bob, wearing a layered white dress resembling a doctor's coat. Various curiosities hang from her belt, and a pear-shaped flask dangles as a necklace.
"Didn't you hear him sleep-talking?" she continues, concern etched in her voice. "Poor man... sounded like a nightmare."
She turns to the man Bronya recognizes as one of her captors. "Tell me the truth, Sampo. What are you going to do about the Overworld girl?"
Bronya tenses at her words, taking in Sampo's appearance. He has medium-length dark blue hair, mint green eyes with cat-like pupils, and wears a magenta suit-like jacket over a black half-shirt and gray vest. Mismatched gloves and dark blue-gray pants complete his eccentric look.
Sampo shrugs, nonchalant. "What am I gonna do about her? Wait for the opportunity and send her back with the rest, of course. Although I need to chat with our sleepy guest of honor before that. Hey—what's with the—"
"You're a bad liar, Sampo Koski." Natasha cuts him off, arms crossed.
A bubbly voice chimes in from behind a medical curtain next to her bed. "I couldn't agree more, Miss Natasha."
Bronya recognizes it as the girl with Xander. A grunt from another male follows—likely the other suspect in the mission's report, Dan.
Sampo looks sheepish, hands raised in mock surrender. "What—Miss March 7th, Mister Dan Heng—Trust me. I didn't mean to bring her along! The smoke was too dense. I was in a daze! Before I knew it, I'd somehow dragged her down here too."
Natasha regards Sampo skeptically, arms still crossed, an eyebrow raised. "What are you up to? Why insist on getting caught up in Overworld affairs that have nothing to do with you? If it's more attention from Wildfire you want, you're going about it the right way."
Sampo adopts a playful, offended expression, hand over his heart. "Hey now! Sampo Koski's primary concern is taking care of his friends. He and I go way back. He scratched my back many times when I found myself in precarious situations. How could I live with myself if I didn't help him and his people in his time of need?"
Dan Heng's voice cuts through the air, cold and blunt. "How do you know Xander? He's never set foot in Belobog before."
Surprise flickers across Sampo's face before he composes himself. "Is that the name he goes by these days? Oh, what a surprise. I mean, I also go by different names when the situation necessitates it, but he never struck me as the type. Who knew?" He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Answer. The. Question." Dan Heng's words are flat, unyielding.
Sampo shakes his head, tutting. "Not for me to answer, my dear friend. Rude to talk about others behind their backs! No matter how much I'd like to share our stories, it's him you'll have to ask!" He turns back to Natasha, gesturing expansively. "And another thing! Where does Wildfire get off... assuming these fine folk won't come in useful for them, huh? You never know."
Natasha doesn't look impressed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Which is why you've set them loose in the underground?"
"Come on, accidents happen! I'll have them rounded up in no time!" Sampo's voice is all forced cheer.
Natasha sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That girl... get her back as soon as possible, then don't let her out of your sight. The underground has been sealed off for over ten years—the children won't even remember what overgrounders look like. If a girl in Silvermane Guard uniform suddenly shows up... what would Wildfire do with her? What would they do with you?"
"Alright!" Sampo throws his hands up in surrender. "I get it! I'm setting off—"
"What is it exactly you'll do with me?" Bronya interrupts, freezing everyone as she looks at them, off her bed and guard raised, eyes narrowed.
Natasha doesn't look surprised or wary, a gentle smile on her face. "Hey, sleepyhead. Looks like you're awake. How are you feeling? Any aches or pain?"
Bronya demands, voice steely, "Who are you? You're talking to the Heir apparent to the Supreme Guardian of Belobog, and the commander of the Silvermane guards."
Natasha's eyes widen, realization dawning. "Cocolia's heir…"
Before Bronya can say anything, a male gasp sounds behind the curtain. It's immediately followed by March's shout of "Xander!", the shift of clothes, and a body slamming into another. Bronya can only guess the girl is hugging the suspect.
"Ugh... March?" Xander's voice sounds strained. A beat after, it turns alarmed, urgent. "March! Dan! Are you okay?"
"Worry about yourself, dummy!" comes March's muffled voice, as if talking into his clothes, her words trembling with emotion.
"Where are we?" His voice rises in alarm, in panic.
Natasha gestures with her hands, trying to calm him, her voice soothing. "Easy... easy there... You're all okay. Xander, right? Do not strain yourself just in case your arm is still healing. The bullet wasn't able to puncture through it completely. Your body's healing factor is astonishing, but it'd be for the best if we don't risk it." She says with a smile, trying to reassure him.
"What...?" Confusion colors Xander's voice.
Natasha's eyes widen for a moment, realizing her mistake. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Natasha, the Head of this humble clinic. We're in—"
"The underworld," Xander whispers. Clipped. Tense. The words heavy with dread.
Suddenly, Sampo walks up next to the medic, arms extended as if to hug the man, a grin on his face. "Alexander, my friend! It's been a long time! I was hoping to see you—"
It happens in less than a second. One moment Sampo is smiling. The next, the curtain next to Bronya crashes to the ground, and Xander reappears with Sampo on the other side of the room, pushing him against the wall using the outer part of his left arm, holding it against his neck as the con man struggles to breathe.
"How do you know my name?!" Xander screams, fury emanating from every pore. Sampo raises his hands, palms open and displayed, a plea for mercy.
Tension sparks immediately. Natasha, from who knows where, whips out a large, heavy cannon, aiming it at Xander's back. In turn, March whips out her bow and Dan his lance. Bronya looks on with dread as things turn sideways in less than a second, the situation spiraling out of control.
"Everyone, let's all calm down!" Natasha's voice rings with clear authority, a command not to be ignored. "Xander, stop!"
"Not until he answers my question!" Xander's response is instantaneous, his eyes never leaving Sampo's face.
Sampo struggles to breathe, words coming out in gasps. "Don't... you... remember me?"
Natasha seems about ready to act when a sudden chill passes over the room. She notices her weapon's barrel has turned frozen, alongside her boots, now stuck to the floor, ice crackling. March steps closer to Xander, her voice pleading, "Xander, stop."
"How could I remember you, you ask…?" Xander says back to Sampo, ignoring March, his voice cold. "I've never met you. This is the first time I've seen your face!"
"Xander, stop," March says again, more strength in her voice, desperation tinging her words. "He's struggling to breathe."
"Why did you bring us down here? What are you planning? Tell me!" Xander's voice is a snarl, a demand.
Sampo's eyes go wide with fear, his face beginning to turn blue.
"XANDER, STOP!" March's voice is incredibly loud now, reverberating through the room, a scream torn from her throat.
The effect is immediate. The man steps away from Sampo, who, without the arm holding him up, drops to the ground, heaving, gulping deep breaths, hand massaging his bruised throat.
"Alexander Salvatore... the man who saved my life," he whispers from the floor, his voice hoarse, each word a struggle. "Partner to the Interastral Peace Corporation's most wanted, Kafka."
His words come with a tone of finality that sounds alien from the jokester, heavy with implication.
Silence descends, thick and oppressive. Bronya notices the confusion on March and Dan's faces, questions in their eyes.
For his part, Xander doesn't look confused.
Instead, his face ashen, his body trembling, he looks down at Sampo.
Horrified.
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Countdown to Belobog's Long Night of Solace: 4 days remaining.
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