Cocolia Landau had a change of heart.
As Belobog's Supreme Guardian, the Stellaron—that voice in her mind—had once seemed the only path to salvation. Only power could protect their home.
But that was the past.
By all rights, she should have branded those Nameless as "infiltrators" and thrown them into the Ironhold. That would've ensured stability.
Plans, however, must adapt to reality.
And reality?
Anming could reduce Belobog to a graveyard single-handedly.
Even the Stellaron would applaud: "Damn, that's one way to solve a crisis! So metal!"
No need for the Fragmentum to spread—just erase Belobog from history. No future, no problems.
—Poof. Problem solved.
In a way, it was a solution. Eliminate the city, eliminate the crisis.
Cocolia wasn't foolish. Antagonizing Anming was pointless. Sending Silvermane Guards after him? They'd be sliced to confetti before they blinked.
That single stroke in Qlipoth Fort had been a message:
"We're here for the Stellaron. Interfere, and you—and this city—are gone*."*
Anming wasn't unreasonable. He'd even extended the Nameless' trademark courtesy: polite, helpful, and terrifyingly efficient.
Sealing the Stellaron benefited Belobog. Who'd oppose that?
So kind of him to charge the broken window to the Astral Express. If Cocolia dared invoice Pom-Pom, she'd get paid—assuming she could find the train.
Delusion was worse than cowardice.
She really didn't want her final soundtrack to be "Wildfire" as Stelle whipped out a flaming lance for a "most impressive attack."
Even the Stellaron had gone unusually quiet since that sword strike. Whether it was scared or injured didn't matter.
For the first time in years, Belobog had hope—one not bought with demonic bargains.
Deals always demanded payment.
She'd long since pledged her life. If her death secured Belobog's tomorrow, so be it.
Bronya would rise from her corpse—a true leader, kind and hopeful.
Qlipoth Fort, Grand Hall
"Welcome back."
Cocolia studied the trio—Dan Heng, March, and a still-drunk Stelle. Anming's absence spoke volumes.
His sword had said enough.
Or so she thought.
In truth, Anming had forgotten entirely, too busy drowning in Firefly's embrace. The Trailblaze's purpose? Gone. He was this close to defecting to the Stellaron Hunters with a "The old order falls, Firefly rises!" battle cry.
Nothing in Belobog mattered more than Liuying—unless Fu Xuan descended with the Great Divination Engine in tow.
But with Qingque as his mole, that scenario was impossible.
Victory? Guaranteed.
"Supreme Guardian, regarding the Stellaron—"
"My Silvermane Guards will assist you. No obstacles shall hinder your investigation."
Dan Heng's prepared speech died mid-sentence.
Since when was the Supreme Guardian this cooperative*?*
March elbowed him, smug. "See? This is the Nameless' prestige*."*
With Cocolia's backing, they could roll through Belobog if they wanted.
"I get it now!"
Stelle raised a wobbly hand, eyes glazed with drunken epiphany.
"Every trash can in Belobog… is mine!"
"Three million celestial scraps bow before this lord!"
"March, I'm invincible—mmph!"
March gagged her, grinning nervously. One wrong move, and Stelle might strangle Cocolia with her bat.
Damn that Firefly and her booze!
Liuying's debut had been stunning, but March couldn't shake that "I'm his one and only" declaration. Not her business, though.
Especially after Qingque mentioned another woman—some Xianzhou diviner—tangled in Anming's web.
As Trailblazers, their priority was the Stellaron. They couldn't stay on Jarilo-VI forever.
March had thought Anming's "firefly and peach blossom" musings were just dreams.
Turns out they were all real.
She wasn't even curious about the next "dream girl's" descriptor.
Was she sick?
Life was simpler before Anming. Clearly, the root cause was that "Succubus March 7th" doujinshi.
Should've never read it before bed…
She sighed, half-expecting a heart-tipped tail to sprout any day now.
The meeting concluded smoothly. Dan Heng received a writ of unrestricted access—free to commandeer Silvermane Guards at will.
Like bureaucrats handed absolute power.
Peak Trailblazing.
"No jail time?" March pouted. "I'd braced for it. By universal law and senior precedent, Nameless always get arrested upon arrival."
Stelle, now semi-sober, hefted her bat—ready to flex before Firefly and jog her memory.
"They're coupling over there. Why crash?"
"March… you sound kinda jealous."
Stelle shoved a chilled "Brave the Cosmos" into her hands.