Long before her,
the moment each Supreme Guardian assumed their role, the whispers of the Stellaron echoed in their ears.
For Belobog, this was a demonic pact—an inescapable curse, yet also the final means to protect their homeland.
How could mere mortals withstand the endless tide of the Antimatter Legion? Human frailty clashed against the Legion's ceaseless onslaught.
Alisa Rand made a wish to the Stellaron, forging a pact of Destruction to summon an unending blizzard. After repelling the Legion, Belobog plunged into new despair.
Every Supreme Guardian resisted the Stellaron's seductive whispers, enduring lifelong torment before meeting their end in the Fragmentum.
Yet nothing changed.
The blizzard raged on. The Fragmentum expanded. Geomarrow reserves neared exhaustion.
Cocolia, too, once held noble ideals. But upon becoming Supreme Guardian, she realized nothing could change.
Belobog was a lighthouse being devoured by frost. It had endured seven centuries—how many more could it last?
Without ending the eternal blizzard at its source, Belobog had no future.
When her dearest friend confronted her about the Stellaron's dangers, waving research data in her face—Cocolia knew it all. She could only stare silently at Serval.
She wanted to say:
"My friend… we can never return to the past."
The naive Cocolia was dead. In her place stood Belobog's Supreme Guardian—no longer just "Cocolia," but a leader bearing the will of all Guardians, willing to do anything.
With icy resolve, she pushed her former friend away from the Stellaron's vortex.
If someone must bear the cost of this demonic pact, let it be her alone.
Cocolia gently traced Bronya's face in a photo frame. "Mom won't let you suffer this burden…"
Let it all end with her generation.
Afterward, a radiant new world would dawn—the beautiful Jarilo-VI from legends.
Cocolia made her choice… or rather, she had none.
Yet perhaps one last hope remained.
She recalled the Trailblazers—the Astral Express, emblem of Trailblaze, had returned to Jarilo.
If the will of Trailblaze could conquer the Stellaron…
Cocolia closed her eyes.
But did a sinner like her deserve redemption?
It was too late.
If only through destruction could she protect Belobog and fulfill Preservation's true mandate…
Cocolia would gladly embrace death.
Underworld, Boulder Town
Beneath flickering streetlamps, children's laughter clashed with the hollow stares of miners lying in the "sky"-less gloom.
The Underworld's air hung heavy, like a city perpetually shrouded in stormclouds.
Clara stood barefoot on the cold ground, her heart pounding as she cradled an intricate transformation device. Its azure wings unfurled in her palms, painting an ethereal scene.
"If we could modify machinery… maybe suppress the Fragmentum…" She shook her head. Jarilo lacked even basic replacement parts, let alone the technology to replicate this marvel.
The Molten Knight—Gramr's pinnacle creation against the Swarm—embodied sciences far beyond Jarilo's reach. This device, forged from imperial tech and Anming's burning resolve, held infinite synchronization—the true ∞.
Yet Clara didn't falter. With solemn gratitude, she returned the device to Firefly, her ruby eyes shining.
"Thank you, Brother Anming… Sister Firefly. Clara can guide you, but… Mr. Svarog is waiting."
Firefly knelt, ruffling Clara's hair. Would her and Anming's child be this earnest? She imagined teaching combat while Anming handled academics—he'd always been the studious type.
She vividly recalled drafting his valedictorian speech.
Anming grinned. "Next time, I'll show you an awesome transformation." Imagine summoning the Molten Knight before Svarog…
"Clara will wait!" Though clueless about "transformations," her excitement was genuine.
Watching Clara scamper off, Firefly murmured, "These children remind me of the modified humans… unwanted, purposeless."
But now, she had power to protect. To change fate.
"I'm a Trailblazer. You're a Stellaron Hunter." Anming pinched Firefly's cheek. "The Stellaron should fear us."
"Yes." Firefly smiled, grateful she was no longer helpless.
In Gramr, she'd watched her love vanish—never again.
This happiness was real. They hadn't even married yet!
The cake shop from her dreams would bloom someday… on scorched earth now singing its elegy.