March 7th—
Her brain short-circuited.
In that frozen 0.001-second interval, March's mind autoplayed a horror film titled Stellaron Hunter Conspiracy.
You're Anming, a seemingly ordinary novelist from Herta Station. But your true identity? SAM—the faceless Stellaron Hunter cloaked in mech armor.
While other Hunters plaster the IPC's most-wanted list, you hide behind steel. Kafka ordered you to infiltrate the Astral Express as Anming, then detonate it to erase Trailblaze's legacy.
To win the crew's trust, you targeted the "wisest" member—March. Knowing she's no fool, you penned Succubus March 7th to bond with her.
Now, posing as Herta's "dedicated scribe," you've tricked them all. Every "coincidence"—your tearful arrival beside Stelle, your timely appearances—points to one truth: You're SAM, the merciless killer.
March's gaze shifted from shock to betrayal. "So… you used my trust all along!"
"Uh, I'm slightly late, but that's harsh." Anming raised a brow, embers still flickering on his coat. His eyes softened with affection—or more accurately, pity for the clueless.
Stelle patted March's shoulder. "He's definitely thinking you're an idiot right now."
March lunged to bite Anming's arm—Does he taste like Belobog Sausage?—when commotion erupted outside.
Miners wielding picks and hammers flooded the area, helmet lamps forming a blinding sea.
"Whoa, VIP treatment!" March jabbed Dan Heng. "See? Our fame's galaxy-wide!"
Dan Heng deadpanned, "This isn't a fan meet."
"At least we made a grand entrance!" Stelle grinned. "Shoutout to the indestructible cable car!"
The Underworld's "warm welcome" escalated instantly.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"Not Silvermane Guards… Outsiders!"
"Misunderstanding! Everyone, disperse—"
Stelle whipped out Cocolia's stamped authorization. "We're here to save Belobog!"
Her declaration echoed. The crowd froze.
The elderly miner who'd urged calm moments earlier now channeled his inner berserker, pickaxe raised. "LIES! CRUSH THEM!"
Radicals brandished weapons. Conservatives deemed them "too tame" and reached for explosives. If the overworld abandoned us, stay gone!
"Wait, did I misread the document?!" Stelle ducked behind March and Dan Heng, rechecking the paper. Where's the "red carpet" treatment?!
Dan Heng deflected a pickaxe with Cloud-Piercer, analyzing the chaos. The overworld-Underworld rift runs deeper than Cocolia admitted.
Anming bit back laughter, shoulders trembling. Only Stelle could nuke diplomacy this spectacularly.
Meanwhile, Firefly—still in silver armor—inspected the sabotaged cable above. She snapped photos for Anming before gliding down. This was no accident.
Anming's gaze locked onto a cowering "innocent bystander"—Sampo Koski. Testing us… or playing a bigger game?
Firefly dematerialized her armor, looping her arm around Anming's. March looked away, muttering, "Trailblaze focus… Trailblaze focus…"
"Misunderstanding!" March shouted. "Real Silvermanes wouldn't drop from the sky!"
"...Fair point."
"But the document?!"
"Cocolia's stalling! She'll let the Fragmentum consume us!"
As arguments reignited, Anming flicked a finger.
Whoosh— A sword scar split the ground, silencing the crowd.
Strength spoke louder than words.
Qingque rolled her eyes. Master's flair for dramatics… Did the Divine Foresight fall for this too?