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75% Honkai Star Rail - Isekai'd With A Stellaron Within / Chapter 78: You're Finally Awake

Bab 78: You're Finally Awake

*yep, we're living. New chapter, closer and closer to the end. Let me know what you think, since I feel like my writing quality is going down a bit, so please be honest. Enjoy the chapter. Peace out and Deus vult*

Mark felt his battered body cry out in pain, his vision blurry as the two halves of his mind crashed against one another, reuniting as the whole they had been once. It all came to him at once, striking like a sledgehammer aimed at a nail that rested on his forehead, ready to strike through his skull. His memories had dashed back to him once, and Ena's Dream tried to reenact the same things as much as it could, forcing his mind into that state he remembered, of memories that weren't his, yet it couldn't fully replicate the foreign effect. 

The lack of blood from his nose was also a subtle hint that something different was at play, while the strange sense of continuous deja vu added to the effect, yet he forgot about it all thanks to the plethora of issues that ended up emerging on his way, from Himeko's feelings for him taking a complete turn, to his connection with Acheron, one of the few characters that made him wish to just go and comfort with a gentle touch, to remind them that loneliness is never complete, that there is someone out there waiting. 

His vision was slowly clearing, the fog of forgetfulness finally lifting itself from his vision, allowing reality to sink in. The red stain that he had gotten used to seeing, her skin pale, covered in red marks of a stark contrast to reality. 

"It seems that you're so determined to wake up you simply chose to snap back to reality without stopping by the realm within. You're bent on defeating Sunday, right?" 

It was Acheron, her beautiful red eyes staring deep into his soul, her Emanator form in full display, the black hole floating in the background. She helped him to his feet, holding him close in her arms, using her body to support him from the side. 

"I... I think Black Swan managed to reach me somehow, just for a moment, enough to make me realize where I was." 

She nodded, looking over at him, the soft strands of white hair brushing softly against his neck, tingling his numb skin, awakening sparks in him. 

"Yes, she's awakened not too long ago and tried to wake you up. You had stood up to Sunday, being the last to succumb to the dream. Perhaps it's also why you were able to wake up among the first ones, going straight to the waking world. You're lucky I could intercept you on your path." 

He sighed, clenching his fist, feeling as the numbness in his body was dissipating with each breath he drew. 

"I was weak, right? Our combined strike carried power, but... I was too weak to defeat him alone, at least the first time. I shall try again, as many times as I have to..." 

Her fingers danced along the side of his neck, coming to a stop on his chest, feeling the soft beat of his heart against them. 

"Mark... you wished to drag me out of Nihility, to reach out and offer a hand..." 

He nodded, the words ringing true. 

"I did say that... and I plan to hold true to my words. Perhaps I'm too weak to do it now, but... I will achieve the strength needed to do so one day." 

She smiled a little, speaking softly. 

"You'll ruin yourself for others, Mark... that's not a good choice, and you know it." 

Tiny was the smirk that graced his lips, but it represented more than any other gesture could. 

"I'm selfish, that's the path I tread, the road I myself will forge against all odds. It's my own wish to achieve such an ending, where everyone can smile and... feel joy... I want it to become real, not a stupid dream like what Sunday plans to do... I tried arguing with him, but... it was useless. He's too fixed on his own idea of Order, on making his own paradise where no Aeon rules over humans... foolish of him, for Aeons don't rule to begin with. They're mere slaves to their Path..." 

Acheron looked at him, holding his gaze despite the smoldering intensity they harbored, the burning desire in them for a future shaped by his own hands. He wasn't strong enough to reach it, at least not in the present, but she felt it in their combined strike, in their union—he could grow to reach that level one day. 

"To reach that ending, you need to become stronger, to not succumb to anything during your journey. You fear severing bonds, Mark... you fear too many things, but the one you fear most, the one I felt in that monster within your mind..." 

She pulled him a bit closer, feeling a knot in her throat as she spoke. Something about him had become familiar to her in the short time spent together. Perhaps it was but a fleeting ember of companionship, a moment of respite found in another person, but for him it all held true. 

"...you fear loss, Mark..." 

His lips pursed in a pitiful attempt at reconciliation with himself, with the fatal flaw that would never leave his being. Flaw, why even call it that? He wasn't like others who would sacrifice whatever for their goal. He had a single thing he could give up, albeit hesitant at times, but it could go and he'd still smile—himself. It's also why him reaching the ending would be hell incarnated, like his nightmares turned into a creature that sought to consume him. 

"I do... but I won't falter. I'll choose what I lose, and I will lose only what can be given up without regrets... myself. Bit by bit, I shall reach my ending, Acheron... I want you to be part of the journey and that beautiful ending I envision..." 

His cheeks took on a soft, red hue, the words spoken like a confession, almost like his heart had made a choice—it was far from the truth. He was in turmoil, but like most cases, simply diving into something would be the best choice. When neither thing can prove better than the other, you grab something and hold on to it, for both have the same value, even if for a moment. Actions have consequences, and choices will leave a bitter taste at times, but that bitter taste was part of life too. 

She gave no answer at first, taking a few moments to process his words, to feel the depth of his emotions. His heart beat faster beneath her touch, each thud a stark reminder of his determination, of the light that never went out inside the man she had at her side. She sought light, the one behind Nihility, something eternal that not even the meaningless darkness could swallow. Still, his light was too weak, too frail to resist it. He was about to drown in the same river that she tries to guide the dead out of. 

"Mark... we shall see... for now, return to the realm of the living and show me that you can uphold what you promised..." 

Their gazes met, breaths mingling as one from the proximity. Mark could only stare into her eye, bringing up a gentle hand to move her hair aside to see both her eyes fully in their beauty. He whispered softly, like he was afraid to ruin the moment. 

"I will do my best to the sweet end, not the bitter one... for I don't plan on falling until I reach that which I desire. For that, I shall most probably be deemed a selfish, greedy sinner, but... I want that joy, so make sure to watch and hear me, Raiden Bosenmori Mei... never think I will forget this name, or that of Acheron, river of the dead..." 

Her breath hitched, coming to a short halt as silence settled in. He could feel himself slowly slipping away, returning to the real world where he'd have to face Sunday himself, most probably alone at first. 

"I shall make it work, don't worry about me. For now, focus on guiding the others outside. I'll hold the fort until they arrive. You wish for everyone to save themselves, while I understand that we're too weak to do that. We can only try, but our strength wavers at some point..." 

He let go slowly of her, letting his fingers linger on her cheek for a few moments before his eyes closed, opening as the feeling of raging winds grazed his skin. He was falling from the sky, gliding to the ground, ready to stand before Sunday once more. 

Thus, he prepared, creating himself a sword of ice unlike any before, forcing it to be as compressed as possible, increasing the pressure while creating it, molding the ice with more than just his mind but also his hands. With increased output, his palms pressed together tightly as the ice began forming between them. He began separating them bit by bit, bracing for the fall by spreading out a large ice ramp from his feet, shooting it down to the ground to anchor it there and slide along so the height wouldn't matter at all. 

The sword was born out of his hands, his grip on it steady thanks to the ridges carved into the handle. He slid on the ice, falling in front of Sunday, standing there all alone, the ice behind him vanishing at a thought's notice. 

"Have you broken free from the Dream of Order?" asked Sunday, his form that of 'Harmonious Choir' The Great Septimus, a robot-like entity that somewhat resembled him, thanks to the wings on its head. 

"Have you broken free from the Dream of Order?" he asked, the voice resounding in a commanding way, with an echo to accompany it. 

Mark scoffed, pointing his sword at Sunday as he summoned the Sword of Will, staring at the turquoise light that morphed around the blade into an extension, turning the weapon into a broader sword with an edge sharper than steel could ever be. 

"Screw your dream, Sunday. I said it once, and I shall say it again..." 

He stepped closer, powering his body with 35% to boot, not yet pushing past his limits out of fear that a prolonged battle might ensue. He could use a far higher output for attacks, but he needed some time to charge it, and he also risked ruining the blade sooner. 

"...your dream is nothing but an illusion, a coward's way out. Sure, it helps people, but it also takes from them. There's nothing free in the world, not even the joy brought by that dream. It takes away real opportunity, the type you have to fight for before reaping its rewards." 

"Foolishness. You fail to see what liberation true Order can bring. I shall put an end to you here and now," it replied, twirling the baton it had to guide the musical notes into battle. They were attacks shaped like notes and various other symbols used in composition. 

Mark dashed for Sunday, pushing past the attacks, cutting through them with his sword, yet more and more kept coming, the Odes of Harmony mixing with the control of Order, causing a maelstrom of attacks to engulf him. He kept cutting and dashing, throwing large ice pillars to disrupt their flow, creating an opening for him to push through. 

Sunday swung the baton around, throwing more notes at him, entire scores with melodies flowing in tandem, twisting and twirling from all sides, pushing him back with sheer number. It was worse than Aventurine's chips moving all around since Sunday didn't relent, pressuring Mark even more and more with his movements. 

"Tsk, he's putting too much pressure on me. Acheron did warn Stelle in the game about how Sunday in this form was on the level of an Emanator or something. Let's hope I get to at least buy time if nothing else... or, I should go bananza..." 

He smirked, creating a dozen ice pillars, the ice connecting him to them all through thin ice lines on the ground. Mark poured his energy into it, pushing it as fast as possible, then, before Sunday could send more attacks, he simply lifted them all up into the air with his mind, twirling them around from all sides with swift motions of his fingers. 

"I've trained at least a decade to use those things, you know? They should be problematic. After all, you're not a perfect Emanator, at least not in my eyes... you're just a WATERED DOWN COPY!" 

The ice pillars began spinning, hitting in from multiple angles, crashing against the musical notes Sunday kept shooting his way, yet the pieces that broke off were still filled with energy, so Mark could keep controlling them, simply decreasing the size while increasing the number of weapons. 

"Your little tricks are of no use!" 

He swung the baton right at the pillars, shattering them with no issue, unbothered by the tiny shards that Mark sent flying at him at high speeds, tanking them without even feeling it. 

"Damn, watered down or not, this guy can still take a punch." 

Mark moved, leaping from spot to spot, cleaving apart everything in his path with the Sword of Will, moving it with mastery and grace. With a flick of his wrist, a wall of fire was erected, blocking off Sunday's view as the turquoise flames rose to the sky, keeping firmly even as he tried to put them out. 

"Nothing but tricks that didn't work the first time. Just give up and embrace the Dream of Order." 

Mark came out of the fire, his sword held high above his head, swinging it down with all his might. Sunday met the blade with the baton, the sheer force of them both sending sparks flying around. Mark was slowly cutting through it, but the material wasn't normal, it wasn't something humans could easily replicate. 

"Meager resistance, Mark," he spat out, sending him away with a backhanded slap he could barely brace for in time. 

He slid along the ground, trying to regain his footing, but the impact was strong enough to knock the wind out of his lungs. 

"Damn, I'm kinda fucked... isn't Stelle waking up anytime soon? I don't really want to push myself to the extreme at this point like I did against Phantylia..." 


next chapter

Bab 79: Long Night

*hehe, we're finallly here. Do enjoy and let me know what you think.

IMPORTANT NOTE: When you see this - *** - in the novel, play the following song on repeat as you read, for ambiance: https://youtu.be/D8Yq6vtjBLk?si=eFxjFcVYogmB7ny_

Have fun and let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus vult*

With a flurry of motion, he scrambled to his feet, staring at Sunday, watching the maniacal robot-like creature swing the baton around with flair, guiding along the symphony of pain that was coming Mark's way, the notes moving through the air with precision and speed. With restless movements, a flurry of light danced along to the flicks of his wrists, the sword moving with precision as it sent out pure energy slices through the air, cutting in their path enough to keep him safe. 

"I should move faster, strike harder, but where and how? I could make a little bet to try and get closer, but we'll have to wait and see." 

He kept moving around like a cockroach, dodging, sliding, throwing ice all over to clear a path. He made haste for Sunday once more, fueling the Fire of Will beneath the soles of his feet to ascend to the skies. As he prepared, he reached high above, increasing the size of the sword as he heard the subtle sound of the ice blade breaking.

"Let's see how nice this one will land," he chuckled, lifting the sword high up before lowering it with his entire torso, firing at once to the ground like a missile, the turquoise blade clashing with the partitures and notes that sung along in harmony, weaving themselves together in a shield. Mark's gaze fell below the translucent human-shaped beings, recalling what they were capable of. 

The flames increased, pushing with rattling power, crushing his tissues upon themselves as his arms struggled to keep the sword straight, aimed at Sunday like a lance. 

"I'll push through!" he growled through gritted teeth. 

Sunday kept moving, conducting his melodies like none other, bringing odes of Harmony, dedicating them to Order. 

"Embrace the dream, Mark. There's no pain there, it's a paradise for everyone, where no one has to face the cruelty and coldness of this harsh reality." 

The words resounded in an almost divine way, but Mark didn't falter. Instead, he used the pain as an anchor to reality, the sky covered in crackling flames of a nuance most unnatural, his Fire of Will increasing with his desire to take down Sunday. 

"Shut up, you cheap bastard! You refuse hardship and indulge in a dream, forsaking what is real for a glimmer of faked peace? How many had succumbed to the fake ambitions of this delusional dream?!" 

His sword pushed harder, the blade sharpening with each word. 

"How many gave up on trying because of that cheap alternative, dying out like fading stars?" 

Sunday's musical shield began yielding, scattering sparks in all directions as Mark's barbaric attack only strove to pierce him. 

"And you... you bastard..." he shouted, gnashing his teeth together. "You're forsaking your own family for a dream! Let me tell you from experience that THE ENTIRE DREAM ISN'T WORTH IT!" 

He pushed past, zapping like a bullet through the air, lodging the blade right in The Great Septimus' chest, feeling the ice crack even more despite his continuous aid. Sunday had no time to react, simply falling back as Mark took a leap away, gasping for air, his body weak. The Sword of Will was off, yet the open wound remained, albeit without blood in the creature. 

"I guess our final talk has concluded," said Sunday, straightening his back. The glowing humanoid things took flight, hovering up in the air, uniting as one in a bright sphere of light. Mark braced himself to jump and try to absorb the power, should it be from the Stellaron, but his legs gave out, the strain from using his body as a projectile catching up. 

He was blinded for a few seconds, staring at the new being that welcomed him, similar in appearance yet with a sinister take. The face, its eyes closed, like a thinker succumbing to their mind, was one with the torso, the arms brought together before it to cover it up. It was the Embryo of Philosophy, none other than Sunday reaching a deeper level of Order. 

"If you believe that your reality can save more people, sever my path with your hands, but I've seen it countless times before, heroic talks with no substance, mere words thrown against the wind." 

Mark scoffed, shouting to make himself heard. 

"Do words not reach you, fool!? I bore witness to this story before, to the man who tried to contain it all in a dream, and guess what? He failed! He was a million times stronger than any of us, and even he was doomed to fail! One can never stop suffering in the world, for that IS the nature of life!" 

He stood up, his legs shaking as he pointed his sword forward, standing up for battle anew. Sunday, however, wasn't going to just wait around. He began chanting something, the words clear in Mark's head, danger lurking in his spine. 

"With this seven-day vow, I command you to heed my summon..." 

He brought his palms up, holding them towards the sky, the face opening its eyes, letting out the golden light, spreading it within its crevices that ran down like tears. A large golden halo with intricate markings formed on its back, and Mark didn't know for sure how to brace himself. He brought his palms together, focusing on the energy within. 

"It was not you who created all things... It was humanity that created you! Your divine being will become the foundation of our paradise." 

The disk flew to the sky, acting like a gate of sorts, breaking into fragments that spread out around, the light blinding. From within, a hand reached out, its index finger ready to touch that of Sunday. Mark's palms held within a glowing burst of energy, ready to launch it. 

"This shit might fry me..." he muttered, stretching out his arms nonetheless. 

His breath was shaky, the feeling of more energy gathering slowly pushing on his nervous endings, sparking up pain in himself. 

Sunday was about to touch the hand from the sky, until... crash. Mark lowered his hands, grinning as he scoffed. 

"Son of a fuck..." he muttered, watching the translucent copy of the Astral Express, one made by Stelle with the power of Harmony come crashing right in Sunday's face, shattering upon impact—yet not before leaving him flat on his back, disrupting the incoming blast. 

"Took you long enough," laughed out Mark, watching the rest of the Crew come to his aid. With them was Robin, who looked at her brother with sorrow. 

"Brother... why?" 

Her question got Sunday dazed, the machine standing motionless for a moment. None would wait for its answer. Mark took the moment to form a large ice pillar with a burst of energy, infusing it then yanking it with all he had at Sunday, sending it packed with energy. 

"Don't push yourself more, Mark," said Himeko, walking to his side, worried. Mark sighed, looking at her briefly, focusing his attention back on Sunday, who got thrown off badly by the train. 

"I choose how much I push," he answered curtly, moving aside. It hurt him, but he was unsure of his own feelings at the moment. 

"Is it over?" he asked, stepping forward, watching Sunday still hang by the ledge. He tried to attack, to do something, but Stelle simply fought him off with another train to the face, the projection striking hard with more power than his ice pillar could build on such short notice. 

"I believe so," said Welt, coming over. He took a quick glance at Himeko's somewhat defeated expression but said nothing of it. He just looked down for a moment, then followed suit and watched Sunday fall to the ground, speaking in a defeated tone. 

"Why does life slumber?" he asked, to which Stelle answered, tilting her head a little. 

"It slumbers... to wake up..." 

Mark walked closer, looking over to Robin, who simply ran to her brother's side, not caring for the machine-like body, the lifeless puppet of Order... fallen like the Aeon itself. 

"Something about this was almost too easy," thought Mark, staring at Sunday with interest. The figure began crumbling, revealing a bleak-faced Sunday, defeated, finding comfort in his sister's embrace, the only real family he has. Mark sighed, wiping the corner of his eyes on the go, not allowing the tears to come out. He walked over to Sunday and, without even bothering anymore, struck him on top of the head with a karate chop. 

"Do this shit again and there will be issues, you heard me?" scolded Mark, staring at the man with harsh eyes. Robin looked up at him, a little taken aback, but Sunday simply smiled. 

"I see... I understand. Even like this, I'm sure there will be plenty of issues. I betrayed the Harmony and tried to imprison everyone within a dream..." 

***

Mark sighed, shaking his head. That was the least of his worries in the situation. Instead, he stared at the puppet. It hadn't done that in the game, cracking like that, remaining up there on the flying platform. He was a little worried. 

"Where's the Stellaron? We need to seal that thing." 

Sunday was about to speak when Mark's gaze shot up to the sky, the ice sword in his hand pointing there instantly. The sky was black, covered by something—the very thing that had tried to sneak up on Aventurine as well, the very monster that left his mind in the dream. 

"How?!" he shouted, watching as the Stellaron floated in the middle of the swirling tongues and jaws, the constant shift in the amalgamation swallowing the Cancer of the Worlds, turning it into a glowing red orb that stood up in the sky like the moon, glowing from within the dark cloud of substance. 

Shrieks filled the night, rattling the souls of everyone present, all the people who had awoken from the dream watching from below with worried expressions, feeling the fear form inside of them. Laughter from a million voices rang out, bringing about fear. Everyone was taken aback by the sight, while Mark was simply trying to process everything. 

"I told you I would be back... I will eat you whole, Devourer of Cancers... when dreams meddle with reality, one finds a window in its own kind, using it to become real..." 

"The Stellaron... it used that to become real..." 

Everyone was at his side, wide-eyed at the eldritch horror that covered the night sky, turning everything into a bath of blood-like light. 

"Mark, is that?" asked Himeko, letting go of everything else at the moment. 

"Yes. That..." said Mark, his lips quivering, his voice shaky. "That's the thing that bothered me... the very being that lived in my mind... that's the incarnation of the Wills of the Stellarons within myself and my innermost self..." 

The others were dumbfounded, and March, who seemed to shrink in fear, asked hastily. 

"You had THAT in your head? And you could sleep at night?" 

He sighed, instantly shooting out ice as a large slide, sweeping everyone off of their feet, letting the dark tentacles that sprawled out grab on to the island. The others barely had time to react as the ice yanked them away, forming a path all the way to the ground. Mark gritted his teeth, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine, moving on to grab his heart and hold it with a lifeless grip. 

"We're fucked..." he muttered, while the others still tried to understand what's going on. Himeko looked at it and fiddled with a remote, watching as the blast flew in from space, crashing against the dark cloud with a bright explosion. The blinding flash vanished, showing that barely any harm had been done. 

"It did no damage..." whispered Stelle, still trying to wrap her head around what they were up against. Sunday seemed mortified, holding Robin behind him, shielding her with his body as they slid down the ice, reaching the ground. 

"Did I cause that?" he asked, the weight of his mistakes suddenly taking a new turn. Mark, however, was simply dulled in an instant, reminded of the first time they had met inside his mind. 

"Not directly... no. It would have done this no matter what. The Stellaron is the key." 

Mark sighed, trying to collect himself. While the people fled, Acheron and Black Swan approached the group, with Boothill by their side. 

"Mark, are you alright?" asked Acheron, stepping closer, holding him by the chin, tilting his head on all sides, inspecting him carefully. She looked into his eyes, just to make sure he was himself and not somewhat controlled by that thing up there. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. For now we have to deal with... that...." 

Acheron looked up, nodding. Her hand went to the sword on pure instinct, ready to step up and solve the issue herself if she had to. 

"Our combined strike seemed to have pushed it away back when the gambler tried his scheme." 

Mark nodded, recalling the moment. In the sky, tentacles lashed out, growing with teeth and eyes pouring out, oozing into a dark, liquid flesh that sought out prey. The voices rang out from the sky, shouting in unison, the horrific sound causing a lot of people present to simply shiver in fear and crawl into wherever could provide solace. 

"I shall consume your flesh and drink your mind, returning it to myself. You tried to enslave us, forcing upon us your being, but we were so much more... foolish vermin who meddle with forces that transcend understanding, bear witness as the consequences catch up to you, and sink deeper and deeper into nothingness, let yourselves be consumed by it and become sustenance for me..." 

The thousands upon thousands of eyes that floated above focused on a single person on the entirety of Penacony... Mark. He stared up at the sky, the red light turning everything and everyone into bloodied versions of themselves. He fought back all the negative feelings that tried to bring him down into the abyss. Acheron, sensing the traces of Nihility acting up inside of him, held his hand gently, speaking softly. 

"Breathe in and out... calm down and focus on the battle ahead. It will work out." 

Welt placed a supporting hand on Mark's shoulder, nodding as he fixed his glasses. 

"Well, it does seem like plenty of strange occurrences have taken place recently, some of which I need to discuss with you. We're in this together, right?" 

March shook her head, trying to gain some courage. 

"Right, Mister Yang. We're in this together. As creepy, ugly, scary, whatever that thing might be... we're together against it." 

Stelle nodded, fixing the hat on her head, smiling a little. 

"Someone has to clear up your mess, Mark." 

Dan Heng nodded, summoning his spear, holding it tightly as he prepared to use his powers of old, turning back to his past once again. 

"For an 'observer', you sure enjoy getting into trouble." 

Himeko took notice of Acheron's action, feeling a pang of something in her heart, but she braced herself nonetheless. With a soft voice and a tiny smile, she spoke, holding his gaze. 

"We're here, alright? You're not alone... I told you since that time..." 

Black Swan couldn't help herself from teasing him a little, even in the desperate moment. She spoke softly, smiling. 

"Make sure to write a wonderful story for me to remember, alright?" 

Boothill watched the entire thing, grinning with no fear. 

"Motherfudger, you sure know how to get the smokin' hot ones all over you." 

Mark shook his head, chuckling a little at the lighthearted atmosphere. 

"Heh, for now... I guess I brace myself..." 

He stepped forward, ice blade in hand, reinforced with whatever he could. 

"The night is long, and the beasts many... time to join the hunt..." 


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