The staircase rose like a spiral of crystal, ascending through blue reflections that seemed to float in the air. The group followed Gallagher in silence until they reached the interior of the dome.
Beneath the surface of the dreamlike sea that covered the Memory Zone, at the highest point of the Dreamflow Reef, a man rested. His body lay on a plush dark leather sofa, surrounded by a soft glow. He had short gray hair, wore a white shirt with red suspenders, and a neatly folded blue coat lay at his side. A fedora adorned with a feather rested on his head.
In his hands, he held a glowing bubble—so fragile it seemed to pulse to the rhythm of a dream that would never end.
March gripped the edge of her coat and murmured softly.
"Is he… asleep?"
Gallagher nodded. His expression softened in a way they had rarely seen.
"Asleep. And he'll stay that way. No matter how loud the noise gets, he'll never wake up again."
No one spoke. Even Himeko seemed more solemn than usual. The presence of the old man radiated peace and melancholy, as if his dream contained echoes of a story still longing to be told.
"Every time I come here." Gallagher continued, resting a hand on the armrest of the sofa. "I feel like he's still alive. Like Mikhail still has something left to say. Something left to do. But I guess I finally kept my promise."
His voice lowered.
"I brought the new generation of Trailblazers—the heirs to what he couldn't finish."
Himeko watched him.
"So this is the last Anonymous. The Watchmaker, Mikhail Char Legwork."
Gallagher nodded without taking his eyes off the old man.
"Heh. Never understood what kind of obsession he had with that old train, but I hope that now, at last, he can rest in peace."
Silence returned for a moment.
"And the bubble?" Aleph asked, stepping closer.
"That bubble is his Legacy." Gallagher replied. "Even if someone else were to find this place, they could never truly access what lies within. Before he left, Mikhail made sure his legacy could only be seen by Trailblazers. It cost him time, sweat, and nearly all that remained of his life—but he succeeded."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Go on. Step forward. This belongs to you—just as you chose to continue the fight he and I couldn't finish."
March leaned in carefully. The bubble was about the size of a basketball, bright and shimmering with colors that danced like light on water. She took it with both hands and looked at the others.
"So… are you ready?"
Aleph and Himeko nodded at the same time, stepping forward slightly.
March placed the bubble in the center and extended her hands. One by one, they repeated the gesture, touching the soft, warm surface that seemed to pulse beneath their fingers.
Gallagher crossed his arms and watched them calmly.
"I'll make sure you can dive in safely. Mikhail left everything ready, but even then, you'll need a little help to cross the threshold."
Just as he was about to proceed, a noise from the stairs interrupted the moment. It was followed by a sharp thud and a loud "Ouch!" that echoed through the dome.
Everyone turned their heads at once.
There was Stelle, sitting on one of the steps, rubbing her red nose and grimacing in pain.
"Ow, come on! Don't tell me these stairs are made of marble…" She complained, squinting.
Gallagher brought a hand to his forehead.
"A truly anticlimactic entrance." He muttered, shaking his head.
Himeko, Aleph, and March stared at her, a bead of cold sweat rolling down their temples. No one dared break the silence for several seconds until March sighed in defeat.
"Well… I guess it couldn't have gone any other way."
She handed the bubble to Himeko and moved to help Stelle alongside Aleph.
"Come on, up you go. Be careful this time." Aleph said, offering her a hand.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Stelle said, accepting the help, though her pride seemed more bruised than her nose.
Without a word, Aleph formed a small piece of ice with a flick of his hand and handed it to her.
"Here. This should help."
Stelle looked at him with a resigned expression.
"Thanks. I guess I deserved that."
"Yeah, pretty much." March said, unable to hold back a laugh.
Himeko shook her head in amusement, muttering something about the inevitable fate of clumsy Trailblazers.
Gallagher, watching the scene, let out a snort of laughter.
"Definitely just like the old days…"
.....
Elsewhere in Penacony, at the Fantasia Hotel in reality—
Dan Heng and Boothill crossed the lobby and headed toward the reception desk, where a young brunette greeted them with a professional smile.
"Good evening, gentlemen. May I have your names, please?"
Dan Heng exchanged a glance with Boothill before answering calmly.
"I'm Dan Heng. And he…" He pointed toward the cowboy, who tipped his hat with a grin.
"Pom-Pom, at your service, ma'am."
The receptionist, Alley, blinked in confusion.
"Pom-Pom…? I don't recall seeing that name in our records."
"Hahaha! That's because I'm a new Astral Express passenger—just joined recently!"
"…A lot of people seem to be joining the Anonymous lately." Alley said, still puzzled. "But since there's precedent, I suppose that's normal."
Dan Heng sighed softly, as if restraining the urge to facepalm.
"I wanted to prepare a surprise for my companions." He said calmly, showing a box decorated with ribbons and engravings. "Here's my identification, if you'd like to verify."
Alley checked the documents, her expression relaxing noticeably.
"My apologies, Mr. Heng. You're right. Please, enjoy the Carismonia Festival. Although…" Her voice lowered slightly. "You should be careful. There have been quite a few stowaways lately. If you see anything suspicious, contact the Hound Family immediately."
"We'll keep that in mind." Dan Heng replied.
Alley nodded and turned toward the communication panel beside her.
"I'll inform your companions of your arrival."
But then her face changed. Her smile vanished completely.
"How strange… There's no connection. It's as if… I can't reach anyone."
Dan Heng frowned.
"Are you sure?"
"Completely. I'll try another line, but for now, communication seems down." Alley bowed apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry. I'll find a way to fix this."
The young woman hurried away. Boothill followed her with his eyes before looking back at Dan Heng.
"I don't like this. She's got that same panic look folks get before somethin' big goes down."
"I agree." Dan Heng adjusted his coat. "And that signal loss doesn't seem like a coincidence."
.....
Minutes later, at the hotel bar, the two sat in a quiet corner. Boothill slowly turned his glass between his fingers while Dan Heng checked his phone.
"No one seems to know anything." The cowboy muttered. "Not the guests, not the staff. It's like someone scrubbed every trace clean—or carefully sealed off all the info from reachin' the public…"
"And your informant? That Memokeeper you mentioned—no trace of her either." Dan Heng noted, looking up. "Do you have any identifying details or an alternate way to reach her?"
Boothill scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile.
"Eh… didn't really think that far ahead, to be honest."
Dan Heng sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Should've known."
At that moment, Boothill's phone buzzed. He snatched it up quickly—and his grin vanished.
"Change of plans." He read aloud. "The meeting's movin' to a safer, more private location."
Dan Heng was silent for a moment before replying.
"Then we head back to the Astral Express. If this escalates in an unexpected direction, we should at least be ready for the worst."
Boothill looked at him, then nodded.
"Yeah. You're right. Let's go."
.....
The Express's observation car greeted them with the familiar scent of freshly brewed tea.
On one of the sofas, Black Swan awaited them, elegantly holding a steaming cup between her fingers.
"It's good to see you at last." She said calmly, crossing her legs. "And I apologize for the time you've lost. But I trust you'll understand… the current situation is rather discouraging."
Before Dan Heng could answer, the doors slid open—and Acheron entered, pushing a snack cart under Pom-Pom's watchful gaze.
Dan Heng looked at Black Swan in silence before speaking.
"Are you the Memokeeper Boothill was talking about?"
Black Swan let out a soft sigh, resting one hand against her cheek.
"Exactly as I saw in the memories of others. Always so stiff, so direct… an admirable quality, though rather dull."
Boothill growled, pulling out his twin golden revolvers—one aimed at Black Swan, the other at Acheron.
"So it's true, huh? You used me, witch? You betrayed me?"
Black Swan slowly lowered her hand, letting the empty teacup drop onto the table. Her voice turned colder.
"No one here has betrayed anyone. As I said before, the situation is dire. If we don't start acting soon, the end of all this will be… catastrophic."
"Cut the act." Boothill said with a tense smile. "Start talking, or I promise you'll have a nice little hole between your eyes."
Acheron looked at him calmly.
"Don't be so hard on her. If Black Swan hadn't intervened, I'd never have escaped the Family's surveillance. She helped me when… certain circumstances forced me to disappear."
Black Swan rubbed the back of her neck—a gesture that, oddly enough, reminded Dan Heng of Aleph.
"Saying I helped her is generous. It was more stalking than rescuing, and the process wasn't exactly subtle. But yes, Acheron isn't lying."
Boothill lowered his gun just a fraction, though his expression was pure frustration.
"So I was the mule from the start. Perfect. Leading the poor cowboy by the nose like a horse chasing a shiny carrot."
Acheron sighed, crossing her arms.
"Relax. We're here for something far more important. I was the one who asked Black Swan to bring you together. We need the help of a Galaxy Ranger and an Astral Express Anonymous. You two are the best suited for this—trusted people, both of you."
Boothill let out a dry laugh.
"Trust? If you wanna talk about trust, let me make you a deal. I put a few bullets in your head, see how many secrets spill out, and if you're still alive after that, then we can talk about trust."
Acheron met his glare without flinching.
"Don't waste your bullets. If you truly want answers, then listen. I'm willing to talk. Had things not reached this point, we might have worked together more openly. Unfortunately, that's no longer an option."
Dan Heng stepped forward.
"You've mentioned the situation several times, but never explained it clearly. What exactly is happening?"
Acheron and Black Swan exchanged glances before nodding.
"The coming disaster." Acheron began. "Is tied to two Paths—Order and Harmony."
"And the outcome…" Black Swan added quietly. "If we don't act soon… believe me when I say you don't even want to imagine it."
Boothill raised an eyebrow, but Acheron continued before he could interrupt.
"Galaxy Rangers aren't exactly easy to find. Pretending to be one and provoking your anger was deliberate. I needed your attention—and now I have it."
Boothill clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Black Swan turned toward Pom-Pom, who was watching the scene with his ears drooping.
"If I may suggest, the best course of action would be to make a hyperspace jump and temporarily leave the Asdana System."
Dan Heng refused immediately.
"No." His eyes sharpened in an instant as the air around him stirred slightly out of control. He didn't even need to hear the rest.
Following her advice would mean abandoning Himeko, March, Stelle, Aleph, and Welt.
Acheron looked at him calmly.
"Listen before deciding. We're not asking you to flee—only to buy time. Just one short jump, enough for them to believe we've left Penacony. Then we return."
Black Swan nodded.
"Exactly. They won't fall that easily, and they don't need you treating them like they're fragile." A natural smile curved her lips as she looked toward a window, perhaps searching for a particular room. "There's far more to them than you can see at first glance…"
Acheron stepped closer.
"You know them better than anyone, Dan Heng. They're not the kind of people who die easily."
Dan Heng closed his eyes for a few seconds before replying.
"Fine. But as soon as the jump ends, we return immediately."
"That will suffice." Acheron said with a nod.
Silence filled the car. Only the sound of the locomotive echoed between them.
...
Elsewhere, beneath the dim light of the Dreamflow Reef, Stelle kept her gaze fixed on the dreamlike bubble resting before her. But her thoughts were far away—wandering back to the words Elegy had spoken while showing her the inside of the dream bubbles she carried.
Listen to the little bird, Stelle…
It's small, fragile—and yet it fights.
Its wings are stained, filthy with mud and grime; its feathers broken and frayed.
But still it insists on opening itself to the wind, begging for a warmth that will never come.
Look into its eyes… they're full of questions, searching for affection in a world that ignores it, a world that simply doesn't care.
Every branch it lands on breaks beneath its weight, every sky it reaches turns into a dark, hopeless void.
Listen to how it whistles… its notes are laments, its chirps pleas for an embrace—or even the smallest fragment of affection, of comfort that will never arrive, of a home forever out of reach.
The other birds strike it, shove it, humiliate it—and still it persists, stubbornly, as if hope itself were its only shelter.
But Stelle… understand this…
its flight doesn't matter, its pain doesn't matter,
because the bird's fate is to fall.
Always to fall.
Each attempt brings it closer to the ground, each blow nearer to the end that awaits.
There is no comfort, no embrace, no home.
Only the cold solitude that envelops it, the despair that consumes it, and the silent death that was always its destiny.
Look, Stelle…
The little bird will fall—and in its fall, it will finally understand what it means to be alone. What it means to never be welcomed, to have every ounce of affection it could give vanish into nothing, like its broken wings soaked in filth and its own blood.
That… is its destiny.
One that you, sadly, will witness firsthand.
The words echoed in her mind until March's voice brought her back to reality.
"Stelle! Hurry up! We're about to see what legacy the Watchmaker left for us!"
Stelle blinked, took a deep breath, and walked toward the others. The bubble waited for them, cradled in Himeko's hands.
The bluish lights of the Dreamflow Reef danced silently around the group.
Everyone took a deep breath as they prepared to step into the dream bubble.
March was somewhere between nervous and excited. Stelle, meanwhile, stared at the glow with a mix of curiosity and doubt, wondering if there were any differences—beyond the contents—between this bubble and the ones Elegy had shown her. Himeko kept a serious, almost solemn expression, and Aleph… well, Aleph was thinking about what he might have for dinner once all this was over.
Gallagher let out a quiet sigh at the boy's utter lack of solemnity.
"In their own way… I suppose everyone's ready."
He looked over the group in silence before calling for their attention.
"Listen carefully." He said calmly. "Everything you see in there could be important. Don't overlook any detail."
Everyone nodded.
Without another word, Gallagher helped them channel their energy so they could enter the bubble.
With one last breath, they closed their eyes and submerged themselves within it.
But something went wrong.
When they opened their eyes, there was no light, no images, no sound—only darkness.
Not ordinary darkness, but an empty, hollow void, as if the bubble's contents had suddenly been erased.
The interior was completely empty. No memories, no landscapes, no voices.
Nothing.
And when they came to, they found themselves outside again, with Gallagher scratching his head, just as baffled as they were.
"What the hell…?" He muttered. "This makes no sense."
March frowned.
"It's empty? Just like that?… That's it?"
Gallagher pressed his lips together.
"If there's truly nothing in it… then why did Mikhail go to such lengths to protect it? It was the last thing he held before he died."
Silence fell over them.
March looked frustrated. Himeko merely observed the bubble with a thoughtful expression.
Gallagher sighed.
"I suppose I never really understood Mikhail. Nor his obsession with you—Trailblazers, followers of the Path. Maybe this was just another illusion, a trick to drag the next generation into continuing Penacony's struggle."
He scratched his chin, shaking his head.
"Knowing his style—playful and theatrical—I wouldn't be surprised."
Himeko raised an eyebrow, amused by his skeptical tone.
"Do you really believe that?"
Gallagher shrugged.
"He was an old prankster."
Himeko chuckled softly.
"Mikhail chose to believe in us—the next generation. And we, in turn, chose to believe in those who came before. How could he leave without giving us something to help continue his fight? There must be more to this, something we still don't understand."
Himeko's gentle smile made Gallagher avert his gaze in mild discomfort.
He'd seen that smile before… too many times, on too many faces. It always brought back old memories best left as just that—memories.
"Don't start getting all philosophical on me, all right?"
Gallagher looked at her directly, but her smile only widened.
"Come on, Gallagher… even you want to believe in the Watchmaker, don't you?"
He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"I'm a follower of the Enigma. Believing in things goes against my principles."
"And yet, here you are." She teased lightly. "That already says plenty."
Gallagher stared at her for a few seconds before letting out a tired laugh.
"Old or new, you're all the same kind of stubborn. Say what you want, do what you want… I guess that's the true mark of those who dare ride the Astral Express and chase the stars."
He paused for a moment, then nodded.
"I suppose you could say I've been corrupted by you all." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah… maybe I do want to believe in Mikhail. I want to see if he really left something behind. But I can't move like I used to, so I'll leave the rest to you."
The group smiled softly at him. Gallagher clicked his tongue.
"Bah, don't look at me like that. You look like a bunch of kids about to graduate."
Himeko spoke next, her tone calm and measured.
"Would you lend me your little companion for a moment? I need to head to the Golden Moment. There's something I want to check in Dr. Edward's shop."
Gallagher raised an eyebrow but eventually nodded.
"Do what you have to do. Just… don't break anything."
************
Meanwhile, in the Golden Moment—
Robin gently touched Sunday's arm, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Brother? Are you okay?"
Sunday nodded calmly.
"Yes… just a bit tired. Being dragged to the Dreamflow Reef by Lethargy didn't exactly help, I suppose. But I'll recover soon."
Welt placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"You pushed the whole Carismonia Festival ahead because of pressure from the other Families, and still managed to hold it together. Not to mention searching for Robin's killer… You've been under a lot of strain. You really should rest."
Sunday looked at him silently for a few seconds before replying.
"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Yang, but there's no need to apologize. What matters now isn't my condition—it's the Stellaron. Saving Penacony from the coming disaster must take priority, not some festival."
Robin gently squeezed his hand.
"Since we were kids." She said with a smile, "My brother and I dreamed of making people happy. It was… a childish dream. We wanted people to smile, to make the world feel a little less sad."
Welt watched her in silence as she went on.
"I think there's still a chance. The Dream Master might still come to his senses. And if I'm wrong, well…"
Her gaze hardened with determination.
"Then I won't take the stage. Without the Harmonic Tuner, summoning the Harmonic Choir will be impossible. And without the Choir… Carismonia will just be that—a simple festival."
Welt smiled.
"I'm glad to see you have that resolve, Robin."
The young singer smiled back.
Sunday watched them quietly, his expression neutral as his thoughts drifted to his sister's words.
But soon, he shook his head. A childish dream like that was foolish and meaningless.
As long as true justice didn't exist—
As long as the strong continued to trample the weak—
How could anyone even think about happiness?
Welt stood with his arms crossed, calmly observing Sunday and Robin as he posed a question.
"There's something I don't understand." He said evenly. "Since we arrived here — and even before, when Himeko and I were preparing for this trip — we haven't heard a single mention of the Dream Master. Why is that?"
Sunday clasped his hands behind his back and answered calmly.
"That's because the Dream Master rarely shows himself to anyone. He lets the heads of the five bloodlines serve as the public face of the Family. He, on the other hand, remains in the shadows, ensuring Penacony's stability and directing the movements of every Family."
"Even for us, getting an audience with him isn't easy. If we submitted a formal request, it would be rejected without hesitation. But…" Robin looked up at Welt. "My brother chose his words very carefully. He emphasized how this issue was tied to the Carismonia Festival, and along with a few other factors, managed to convince the Master to see us."
"So you got an audience." Welt said. "That's… impressive. Considering what you've just said, am I the first visitor in a long time to manage something like that?"
"Yes. No one has seen his face in years." Robin replied with a nod, though she soon frowned. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Welt crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful.
"I just hope that, if the opportunity arises, we can reach a consensus that benefits everyone."
"That's my wish as well." Sunday said serenely.
Robin gave a slight bow.
"Please excuse us, Mr. Yang. My brother and I must make some preparations before the audience."
Welt simply nodded in silence, pulling his phone from the pocket of his coat.
Robin and Sunday walked a few meters away, but before they could go further, a cheerful, slurred voice called out.
"Hey! If it isn't Chief Sunday and Miss Robin!"
A drunk Pepeshian waved at them from the ground, lifting a bottle of Happy Soul. His cheeks were flushed, and his grin was wide — and a little stupid.
"The moon's beautiful tonight…" He murmured, gazing up at the starry sky. "Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to drink with under its light?"
Sunday looked at him calmly.
"What you're seeing isn't the moon. That's the Grand Theater of Penacony."
The Pepeshian blinked in confusion.
His smile faltered for a moment before he reached a hand toward the sky.
"Ah… I see. Guess it's been a while since the last time I went back to reality. I'm starting to lose track of the logic of dreams."
Robin crouched slightly to get a better look at him.
"Why not go back to reality?"
The drunk laughed a little. There was nothing odd about his laughter, yet Robin couldn't shake the feeling of sadness and resignation behind it.
Was it just her imagination?
"Because I can't."
Seeing the confusion on Robin's face, he added,
"You see… I'm one of those terminal patients who spent all their savings to come here." He said casually, as if it were nothing. "I came with several people from my home world — we wanted to enjoy the last days of our lives to the fullest!"
His words left Robin silent, her face reflecting a mix of sorrow and disbelief.
"Don't worry, young lady." Said the Pepeshian, raising his bottle slightly. "I'm at peace. I just want to lie here, look at the sky, and drink some Happy Soul. Back in reality, I couldn't even get out of bed anymore. At least here, I can feel this. This is life!"
Robin swallowed hard. Placing her hands over her chest, she repeated his words quietly.
"You say… this is… life?"
"Huh?" The Pepeshian frowned and tilted his head, confused. "Didn't catch that."
Robin quickly regained her gentle expression and forced a weak smile.
"I said this street's pretty busy. If you stay here, someone might step on you… or some careless driver might run you over. Even if you can't die in a dream, that doesn't mean pain isn't real."
After hesitating for a moment, she decided to ask.
"What's your name?" She said softly.
"Willy." He replied in a sing-song tone, shaking the Happy Soul bottle in his hand. He flopped back down on the street and laughed loudly. "You can call me Willy."
Sunday took out his phone.
"I'll ask a member of the Hound Family to escort you to Aideen Park. You'll be able to rest there and keep looking at the sky without worrying about traffic."
"Oh, that sounds perfect!" Willy exclaimed, raising his bottle enthusiastically. "You're a good man, Chief Sunday!"
A few minutes later, a Hound Family member arrived, helped Willy to his feet, and began escorting him down the street.
Before leaving, the drunk raised his bottle once more.
"It was nice meeting you! I'll drink to your health!"
The echo of his laughter faded into the alleyways.
Robin watched until he disappeared from view, then lowered her gaze and spoke quietly.
"What's happening, brother? This… this is supposed to be the land of dreams."
Sunday didn't respond. Instead, he walked a few steps ahead and stopped in front of her.
"Why do people live like this?" She continued, her tone heavy with sadness. "Dreams should be a rest — a temporary refuge before returning to real life. Not this… not a place where people sink into decay and addiction."
Robin lowered her gaze.
"Willy's expression… he didn't look happy at all. He said he'd accepted his fate, but it felt more like he was lying to himself — numbing his mind so he wouldn't have to think."
As she gazed toward the Golden Moment in the distance, Robin couldn't help but wonder,
"Can that really be called happiness?"
Sunday slowly turned toward her with a serene, almost unchanging expression. His eyes were as calm as a lake without a single ripple.
"You're right. That's not life." He said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"But that's how countless people live, day after day."
Robin stared at him, surprised.
"Why do you say that?"
"The real world isn't any different." He replied.
"People live in their own illusions — ones born from their choices. They think those illusions give them worth, that they fill the emptiness inside. They chase wealth, fame, honor, desire… and despise those who aren't like them."
He took a few steps forward, his gaze fixed ahead.
"It's an endless cycle of oppression. The strong feed on the weak, the ambitious crush the fragile. That's how it's always been — and that's how it will always be."
Robin frowned, unable to fully grasp the purpose behind his words.
"Are you saying… it shouldn't be that way?"
Sunday looked at her in silence for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the sky above the Golden Moment, where the silhouette of the Grand Theater towered over everything.
"The law of the fittest." He said calmly. "It's the root of every tragedy that haunts all sentient races. It's what drives everyone to flee to Penacony. Here, there's no pain, no death, no tragedy."
He turned to his sister and met her eyes. Then, a faint smile curved his lips.
"Tell me, Robin…" His voice softened.
"Isn't this the very paradise we dreamed of when we were children?"
**************************************************************************
Ahhhh, finally finished it! Sorry for the delay — I still haven't made it back home, and it's hard to focus on writing anywhere else. Anyway...
The end of Amphoreus is coming soon, and with it, I'll finally decide whether to change the outline for that arc or keep it just as I originally planned.
As a little bit of trivia — I'll tell you this much:
What's left of the arc has a lot in store.
Will it be disappointing? I really hope not.
Also, if everything goes according to plan…
This story will have a total of 14 Arcs.
Meaning, we still have at least 7 more Arcs to go.
Oh, and I've also started rewriting the early arcs since I feel there's a lot that could be improved in both.
Additionally, once the Penacony arc ends, I plan to revisit the other story — Resist, Defy, Endure — and publish the unfiltered versions of the Prologue and Chapter 1.
The versions currently uploaded were written that way because, at the time, there were things I wasn't ready to reveal… but after Penacony, it'll definitely be fine to do so.
Anyway —
What are your plans for the Banners?