At the same time, the two lingering echoes played a past conversation.
Bronya: "Mother, I don't believe the Stellaron's promises."
"It doesn't matter if you don't believe now. You'll change your mind eventually," Cocolia said coldly.
"Haven't you considered? The Stellaron summoned blizzards, spawned the Fragmentum—its actions are destroying our civilization!"
"You don't understand, Bronya. Our ancestors' mistake was not embracing the destruction that represents rebirth sooner."
"…" Bronya fell silent.
Cocolia didn't care about her silence.
"The moment the invaders from beyond descended, this world was sentenced to death. But… the Stellaron preserved a sliver of hope."
"Erasing all the corrupt marks of the old world, abandoning meaningless clinging to survival—that's how we'll be reborn."
"Then, we won't need to exhaust everything to protect this wasteland. We'll witness a new world rise from the ruins."
"…" Bronya stayed silent, only a faint intake of breath audible.
Even without seeing her face, her inner conflict was palpable.
Maybe she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words, or perhaps for other reasons.
Many players felt something was off.
Stelle's expression was hard to describe.
"I'm afraid even sealing the Stellaron won't save Cocolia. She's completely lost it."
"Just because of the Stellaron's empty promises, she declares seven hundred years of our ancestors' struggle was pointless?"
"Absurd."
Dan Heng didn't respond, lost in thought.
"On my way here, I saw remnants of the Antimatter Legion."
"The so-called invaders from beyond likely refer to the Legion. Could it be…"
March 7th: "Could it be what?"
Realizing he'd slipped, Dan Heng reined in his thoughts, his face returning to its usual calm.
"Nothing, just lamenting Cocolia's ignorance."
Plunge a world into despair, offer a false dawn disguised as hope, then, when all settles irreversibly, shatter that hope.
What kind of despair would that be?
He couldn't fathom who'd be so twisted, nor think of a matching entity.
If the Antimatter Legion descended on Jarilo-VI seven hundred years ago, the recent Emanator-level Imaginary fluctuation couldn't be a coincidence.
Regardless of what Himeko and Welt found, Leon surely had a lead.
…
Leon returned to the restricted zone frontline, aiding the defense while putting on a show for someone watching.
When the Fragmentum monsters surged in scale earlier, he'd sensed something unusual.
Tracing the source, he found it was an Emanator.
Quite surprising.
A tiny Jarilo-VI drawing an Aeon's Emanator's gaze?
A Destruction Emanator, no less—not picky at all.
Could it be a rookie promoted during his reincarnation cycle?
Too weak for big targets, so they mess with the insignificant to avoid cosmic justice?
Leon spared no venom in his speculations.
He despised Destruction.
Back in the day, the Lord of Delusion—if They and Their Path still existed—would've never let Destruction's pawns run rampant.
Dare to show up? They'd be the first crushed by the Delusion Emanator.
The Path of Delusion judged all transgressions.
Light or dark, good or evil, stance irrelevant.
In the eyes of Delusion's followers, transgression was a broad concept.
A doctor saving lives, disrupting the natural cycle of life, was a transgression.
A strongman burning, killing, and plundering—destruction, a transgression.
Order seeking to reverse all things into chaos, guiding the galaxy to eternal harmony—a transgression.
Equilibrium weaving causal chains to balance all things—still a transgression.
Wherever the Lord of Delusion, Ming, went, most current Aeons had to steer clear.
Except Mercy and Nihility.
One was unaffected, the other didn't care how you affected it.
Oh, and Aha, probably, too.
Would They fear this? They'd relish being affected for fun.
"My dear Mr. Leon, you seem to be thinking something rude."
A eerie, smiling mask appeared on Leon's shoulder.
"Wanna know?"
"Want to, so want to~"
"Find me the culprit. They're good at hiding. My strength's not back yet—I can't track them."
"Aha can't find them either, unless…"
"Can't find them? Then take a punch." Leon threw a fist. "Had your fun? Scram."
"Oh~ So tough, Aha loves it~~ Two more punches, pretty please?"
"I refuse."
"Aw, I lost something and can't find it no matter what. Help me, Darling?"
"Lost your dignity? I don't look for that. Suggest you visit IX's place—your lost stuff might come back on its own."
"Such a cruel heart, recommending Aha go to jail!"
"No one likes being nagged by a noisy pest while busy," Leon said coldly.
"Hmph, it's because Darling won't use Joy's power!"
Aha's mask turned red, its eerie smile shifting to a teary, pitiful one.
"Darling… Big Brother doesn't use my power, fine, but why so mean?"
"Am I too clingy, annoying Big Brother?"
"But 521 years ago, you said you loved me sticking to you, waaah~~"
"It must be because Big Brother found a dog outside, rushing to shoo me away. Boo-hoo, I'm mad, I need Big Brother Leon to comfort me!"
Leon: "…"
If bursting his eardrums could stop the noise, he'd do it without hesitation.
Aha, the Rising Dawn, was too much like the Evening Twilight.
Otherwise, why would he call Them a pest in his heart?
Fine when quiet, but once They show up, They buzz around his ear like an unshooable fly.
Pure annoyance.
"Alright, alright, it's fine~"
"I'm the best at forgiving Big Brother's bad temper~ Over the years, I've tolerated, tolerated, tolerated, and tolerated…"
"And beyond that, still—tolerated!"
The wind Leon conjured nearly veered off, but he smiled with relief.
"Very tolerant, then."
A bizarre thought struck him.
An otaku, bellowing with a thunderous voice, shouting "Onii-chan daisuki," versus Aha's coy, syrupy crocodile tears—who'd he rather keep listening to?
Leon couldn't help but smile again.
His hands itched, craving a fight to ease the discomfort.
He dove into the Fragmentum monster horde.
"Hey, Darling?~~"
Sprite Aha, undeterred, flew to his ear.
Leon: "Busy with real work. Be good, OK?"
The meaning was clear: scram voluntarily.
"I'm super good, as long as Big Brother uses the temporary skill set Aha gave to kill enemies~~"
"Hand it over."
"Ehe… hehehe…"
Soon—
Leon's figure darted through the Fragmentum monster horde, occasionally slashing with a blade to unleash a whirlwind.
Or raising massive wind walls to block the Imaginary Weaver's ranged strikes.
Serval stared, dumbfounded, at the figure charging into the enemy ranks, inexplicably radiating a hint of joy.
Where did that strange, unexplainable joy come from?