In the snowy expanse of Siberia, in front of a small, rough wooden cabin, huge black mecha wreckage lay scattered around. The flames of battle had left indelible marks across the snow. The air was heavy and grim, and the desolation of the post-war scene was etched into every corner. A long-haired white-haired woman knelt on the snow.
She was grieving. She was in despair. Not only because the very air here was shrouded in the stench of death — but because… all of this was her doing.
"No…"
"This isn't… because of me…"
On this barren ground, unable to recognize her own original form, the pain in her heart was enough to crush her into collapse.
If a life's arrival brought only disaster, and if she herself was the source of all calamity… then why had she even been born?
And if you widened the scope to this Siberian land, then for everything that had happened here — anyone with even a fragment of knowledge of this history would know…
Not long ago, a woman named Cecilia had used her own life as the price to scatter the blossoms of crimson salvation across the snowfield, turning half of the holy blood in her body into a storm of blood-red petals that fell upon Siberia's soil.
In that moment, the Stigmata had stood above even the Herrscher of the Void, briefly breaking the boundaries between reality and the digital illusion.
With more than half her holy blood gone, even Overseer Otto could not predict what would happen next.
And what actually happened… could truly be called unprecedented.
— In that instant of connection between the real and the digital, the existence called the "Stigmata Space" had, for the first time, taken on a form closer to human and appeared in the world.
That was the first proof of a conceptual form descending into reality — the unexpected crystallization brought about by the Stigmata's curse upon Schariac.
"And that… is me?"
The dreamlike woman gently touched the bloodstain on the spear before her. The way she instinctively absorbed the lingering breath of the melting frost felt as if it was etched into her being. It also made her more easily understand her own origins… though this knowledge was nothing short of bad news.
The "Stigmata Curse" — as that golden-haired overseer had called it — if she guessed correctly, referred to her.
She fell silent. Her eyes trembled faintly, causing her pale fingers to shake. Her gaze was filled with shock and despair.
If she had only learned of this after everything was over, it might have been better. After all, all the disasters had already been sealed in history, condemned to the "second Honkak" of evil. But her ability to so easily draw information from her surroundings had, in this case, become a fatal wound to herself.
The mecha wreckage came from a sudden surge of massive Honkai energy — the last power of Cecilia controlling the might of the Stigmata.
And so, the answer pointed only to the place she least wished to look.
She had confirmed her own origin, the beginning of the calamity — and this answer only plunged her into deeper despair.
She had absolutely no way to undo this catastrophe.
— She was the catastrophe itself.
---
In Cecilia's villa
The joyful chatter from before slowly quieted down. Cecilia was extremely curious about this step-by-step unraveling of the mystery.
Compared to the Hare's vague evasions, the game's script — though somewhat verbose — was much more concrete.
And it was in this description that she finally understood why Prometheus had said the Hare hated the Herrscher of Reason.
If you personified the void as a concept, then Joyce and the Hare were, without doubt, the two most similar beings — the Herrscher of Sentience possessed the knowledge of all memories, and for a rather long period had imitated her target.
Yet Joyce and the Hare were like two blank sheets of paper — one side white, the other black.
A white sheet of paper could later be dyed in favorite colors by the people coming and going, each adding their own annotations to the story with their will… But black was seen as misfortune from the very beginning.
Two people were born from the same disaster—one came to save it, while the other discovered she could not save it at all.
If one does not wish to do evil, then this… is misfortune.
"Siberia is where you were born? And the Stigma crystal… No wonder Luo mo said from the start that the Stigmata had 'become a star.'"
Cecilia blinked, revealing a sly smile.
"'Become a star'? That's a rather impolite way to put it~"
Misteln smiled bitterly. She neither confirmed nor denied the title. The teasing tone wasn't something she found particularly unpleasant, after all.
The Kaslana Stigma existed in a spiritual space, while the Schariac Stigma took physical form… It made sense, didn't it?
"But it's still an accurate explanation for why you were born… isn't it? Even though Cecilia of this world still exists, you still came into being."
"The Stigma having its own consciousness… what a fragile probability that is."
Prometheus never seemed to miss a chance to interrupt—especially when it came to the Hare—always wearing a serious face while saying what sounded like scoldings.
It was also proof that the AI mecha-girl was indeed trying to understand human emotions, and had already grasped one of the most important parts—letting her own feelings shape how she saw certain individuals.
In short, she treated people differently.
Misteln spread her hands helplessly, but her eyes carried a hint of nostalgia.
"If I could… I would rather not have been born at all. Excessive Honkai energy only brought endless calamities to every place I went, and even made it impossible to interact with normal people."
"Except… for a very few."
Misteln let out a soft sigh. She did not see this "special" nature as a good result—on the contrary, it brought her nothing but regret and pain.
.....
In Recording Room.
"So… she was the 'Original… Stigma' type? But why is she connected to Bronya's mother?"
Bronya frowned, still bothered by the "little aunt" remark the other had made when they first met.
Unfortunately, during her time at St. Freya, she had never gotten a straight answer to that question. She only knew that it had something to do with her biological mother…
But according to what she understood, her mother should have been an ordinary person—someone who couldn't possibly have a connection with the supernatural power of Hare.
"What's worth noting is that the person who influenced Hare the most… was your mother, even though they only spent three short days together."
Luo Mo didn't answer Bronya's question directly, instead leaving her with even more doubts.
But she was already used to that—after all, the boss often played the role of "mysterious riddle-giver."
"It's not… Cocolia, is it?"
Kiana blurted out. When it came to Bronya's "mother," she could only think of that name.
But after a moment's thought, she knew it couldn't be—Bronya had never even mentioned this person to them.
"No. It should be… Bronya's birth mother—the one she's never met."
Bronya's expression was unusually calm, but her small clenched hands were already slightly damp with sweat. She wasn't nearly as indifferent as she appeared.
The word "mother" had always meant "Cocolia" in her mind.
It wasn't that she disliked that fact, but rather that she had no memories of her biological mother. That woman was like a hazy silhouette in a dream—sometimes gentle and kind, sometimes making her heart swell with resentment.
She truly wanted to know more about her mother… to understand what kind of person she was, and why she hadn't stayed by her side.
"Bronya…"
Seele looked at her worriedly, noticing the visible tension in her usually expressionless face.
It's hard for anyone to be completely indifferent to their mother—especially for an orphan, whose sensitivity is all the greater.
----
Inside the Game
In the center of a special Herrscher battlefield stood the successors of the Herrscher of Reason—Bronya and Misteln Schariac—pouring their entire wills into a chessboard, pieces of black and white locked in battle.
Here, Bronya saw her past, and the sorrows she had endured.
Every life that approached her… would wither away because of her.
She was like a humanoid disaster—wherever she went, she brought misfortune and a suffocating stillness. She didn't know where to go, nor what to do, but the snowfields of Siberia still held her legend.
Until… the World Serpent came for her.
The Grey Serpent sacrificed body after body eaten away by corrosion, all to draw her into the Stigma Project—because she was the ideal product of the plan, capable of replacing an extremely critical component, and in a much better way than before.
But the price he offered her… was death.
A woman stood in the glow of the bonfire. The flames could not blur her silhouette, nor soothe the pain in her heart—even though all she wanted was to share the final warmth of those fading lives.
As a walking calamity, she couldn't even end herself.
No matter how many times she died, she would return to the world again—always as the harbinger of even greater disasters.
Her half-corroded blackened body reached toward him, the umbrella in her hand steady despite the decay. His eyes betrayed no emotion, his voice slithering into her ear like a wolf tempting a lamb.
"You, too, exist in a torment beyond death. Compared to these flames, you are powerless not only to end them—but even to lessen their pain."
"Come. Join the World Serpent. As payment, I will give you what you most desire—death."
"…"
The white-haired girl was briefly stunned. She hadn't expected that to be his offer.
After dozens of times tasting death, she knew exactly what he was aiming for.
It was nothing but a pointless erosion… a waste.
The Grey Serpent believed his words could persuade her.
But she only smiled faintly and shook her head. "Sorry, but you're a little too late—"
"You see, I've already awoken the Stigma inside a human body… by my own will."
"Forced awakening without destroying the host… I finally met someone who could do it."
Hope—and even a spark of excitement—flashed in her eyes. She was no longer alone. She finally had someone she could speak to.
"One in ten thousand to find a compatible person… Truly unexpected."
Even the Grey Serpent was surprised. But after leaving those final words, he was consumed entirely by Honkai energy, and the deal came to nothing.
This time, he hadn't gotten the result he wanted—but no matter. The serpent would simply wait in the shadows for the next opportunity.
----
In the Golden Courtyard
"So Bronya's mother was actually a Stigmata compatible? Even if it was forced awakening…"
Elysia was surprised. Compared to the other Herrschers, Bronya's resistance to Honkai energy was undoubtedly the weakest.
Kiana, Mei, Seele… when they merged with their Herrscher cores, it had been far easier than for Bronya. That ease was most visible in their bodies—they could resist Honkai corrosion almost effortlessly.
So Elysia had always assumed Bronya was just an ordinary girl from an ordinary family, with no special connection to the Honkai.
"This is truly rare. For such a crude method to awaken the Stigma… No wonder the Stigma Project differs so much from all previous versions."
Mobius frowned.
A pity she lacked a perfect high-grade sample—she genuinely wanted to see what was so special about the woman.
As for the three great Schicksal clans of the Stigmata, she wasn't particularly interested—those things were merely what had been passed down to her.
But Alexandra, on the other hand…
"World Serpent actually only gave a death bounty? Isn't that a little strange?"
Elysia scratched her cheek, feeling a bit awkward and puzzled. Why did World Serpent feel like such a swaying, unstable force? Hiring someone to help, only for the helper to end up getting killed—wasn't that a bit off?
"Wanting to die but being unable to—that's its own kind of pain. To die at the right time, to return dust to dust, earth to earth… there's nothing wrong with that."
Mobius spoke with complete nonchalance.
No one else voiced an opinion. "You, Elysia, had something to say?" When her eyes swept over Kevin, she paused for a moment before quickly looking away.
"Someone's actually begging to die? How rare…"
Hua muttered softly. Even knowing what she had gone through, she still couldn't quite understand—death just sounded so painful.
---
Inside the game.
Bronya was continuously clashing with her opponent, launching offensives at the junction between memory and consciousness. At the same time, she couldn't avoid being drawn into the other's memories.
Everything had been going smoothly—she had gradually taken over some of the memory nodes—but in the next moment, everything snapped back to its original state.
All her efforts had been washed away like flowing water. This made Bronya begin to reflect.
Competing head-on with the opponent inside their own memory space… was that really the wise choice?
Trying to win while following the rules set by the opponent could only end in wasted effort. So… A certain firmness flashed in Bronya's eyes. She dismantled the weapons she had formed and aimed directly at the core position inside herself that housed the Herrscher power.
Boom—
Since the opponent was cheating, she chose to flip the entire board over.
...
Elsewhere, inside the moon, Hare slowly opened her eyes. In her perception, Bronya's resistance had vanished after a certain point in time.
During their mental chess match, all she needed to do was occasionally reclaim lost ground. For someone backed by the Stigma Project, this was child's play.
Yet Bronya's defeat didn't bring her any joy—she hadn't wanted to see this ending. Instead, she felt a little regretful. Perhaps she should have shown her that Fragmented Story earlier?
After all, that was something she had always wanted the other to know.
It was about… a great mother, and the first suitable person she ever awakened.
Like a newborn lifeform, she had been full of curiosity toward the world, trying many experiments—about death, about her own powers, and about others…
Most of those experiments had only brought her more regret, leaving the world with an aftertaste of chaos.
She should have been able to awaken a dying Stigma bearer, but she had never succeeded.
After so many repeated failures, it was hard for reason and hope to coexist.
On the snowy plains of Siberia, in a small, ordinary wooden cabin, she met a mother—a woman with long, pale gray hair tied into two spiral ponytails, carrying the gentle warmth unique to mothers, and three months away from giving birth.
Her name was Alexandra. She was the sole survivor of a disaster the girl had caused, the only one to die and then be revived.
Without a doubt, Alexandra possessed rare resistance to Honkai energy, allowing her to be called back from the edge of death by Schariac.
But at the same time, her body was extremely weak. She was no Mantis—her life force was as fragile as a candle flickering in the cold wind.
They only lived together for three and a half days, yet from Alexandra, she gained so much—like the name Misteln, a gentler way of treating the world, and a sense of life's worth.
Misteln was the name of a flower she had chosen—well, technically, it was a small dialect pronunciation Alexandra had given her.
From then on, she had a name of her own, not just the Schariac surname.
Alexandra treated her with warmth, letting her experience for the first time the gentle coexistence humans could have—not the alien memories of skating across foreign ice. But she, without realizing it, had hastened Alexandra's death.
If the Stigma's "chosen" had been an ordinary person, then even without exceptional combat ability, they could have avoided much Honkai corruption. But forcing a Stigmata awakening upon a mother was a kind of harm.
The mysterious power within Misteln's own body attacked Alexandra the same way it would attack others—only this time, it also struck the baby inside her.
After much observation and inner struggle, Misteln finally told her outright—three months later, she absolutely could not give birth to this child.
To Alexandra, it was like a bolt from the blue. It caused their first argument.
From Misteln's perspective—whether considering the success rate or simply the value of a suitable candidate— even for personal reasons, she wanted Alexandra to survive.
But Alexandra refused.
This mother would not accept such a solution.
Placing her own life and her child's on opposite ends of a scale, she refused to measure whether it was "worth it" and thereby deny the child a future.
"Worth it?"
"No… Is this something you can measure in worth?"
Her emotions flared instantly, tears spilling uncontrollably as she poured out all her feelings in words edged with thorns.
"Just to avoid my own fate, am I supposed to take away the future she was meant to have?"
"…I'm sorry."
Misteln could only lower her head, allowing the storm of the mother's grief to fall upon her.
She didn't know how to explain. The disasters she had caused were countless… yet she still didn't want to see that look of loss and anger in Alexandra's eyes.
"Stigmata … If you can awaken it, then you can also make it sleep again, right?"
Her sharpness softened, because she knew the person before her wasn't cold and heartless.
Misteln stayed silent—and that silence was an unspoken confirmation.
After gathering herself, hesitating, Misteln still told her how admirable her life was, and how important it was beyond anything else.
Alexandra looked surprised, but answered naturally:
"Life— for everyone, it's a unique and precious thing."
"But… no matter how precious it is, it has its own purpose. Otherwise, it loses all its value."
"Besides, how could I deny her even a single chance at the future?"
"When she grows up, she'll meet friends willing to give her their true hearts, guiding her onto her own path, helping her find what she loves."
"If she's lucky… she'll find her passion, and make it her life's work."
As she said this, her eyes shone with a warm, clear light—filled with hope for the future, yet also tinged with the quiet reluctance of a mother who knew she couldn't stay to fulfill her role.
A mother's love is silent, gentle, and overwhelming.
For the first time, Misteln felt such emotion. This was the hope she had seen in hell itself, the only hope she had awakened in another.
Slowly, she extinguished her own light, becoming just another quiet, redundant presence in the genes—because she had personally stolen away almost all of Alexandra's remaining years.
Not long after choosing to silence the Stigmata, before she could even say goodbye, darkness took her vision. The still, black Stigmata space filled her sight.
Even screaming Alexandra's name with all her strength was meaningless.
----
[This Stigmata space really doesn't pull any punches.]
[That's a knife. Real-world knives are bad enough—this one's worse.]
[Damn it, my dear mother-in-law!]
----
In the recording studio.
Bronya's eyes were red. The long-held confusion about her mother had all been answered.
In her heart, the image of the mother she had never met slowly took shape.
She had loved her deeply.
Whether or not there had ever been a fleeting complaint in the dead of night—now it had all dissolved into nothing. Love—this reason explained everything.
When it came to choosing about her own life, she decisively chose the opposite — she didn't think about worth, death, Saint Fontaine, or anything else… her mind and heart were solely on her child.
Perhaps she truly didn't give Bronya a happy and carefree childhood, but she had done everything within her ability to give her the right to be born into this world, and to rush toward every beautiful possibility in the future.
"Sigh… I really shouldn't be looking at something like this…"
The Herrscher of Sentience rubbed her eyes, turning her gaze away, unable to bear watching such a heartfelt scene.
Even Bronya, whose emotions were usually subdued, now had two clear trails of tears running down her face. She kept her lips tightly sealed, desperately trying to suppress the surge of emotion.
But an emotional volcano, once suppressed, would only erupt more violently. All the feelings tangled together, and tears she tried to hold back continued to flow freely down her cheeks.
"Mom… Mother… Mama…"
(...sniff)
The unskilled words rolled around her lips, repeated in quiet, familiar murmurs.
She wanted to say so many things to her mother — she wanted her to see the friends she had made, the hobbies she enjoyed, the career she was pursuing… The beautiful sights along her journey, she wanted her mother to see them too.
Right now, Bronya was unconsciously gripping Seele's arm hard enough to hurt, but Seele didn't say a word — she just tried her best to comfort her Bronya onee-san.
It was because they were both members of the orphanage that Seele understood so well the emotions Bronya was feeling.
Seele offered her handkerchief to ease Bronya's sorrow.
Even Kiana didn't continue her usual antics. She, too, was moved by the story, her eyes red.
Luo Mo let out a sigh as well — this time, no one blamed him for swinging the "knife" of tragedy. After all, if this had really happened in the past, this ending would be even harder to accept.
It showed that he hadn't been wrong. On the contrary, Bronya's memory of her mother was now more complete — and not in Cocolia's form.
Thinking about it, among the three main characters of the game, their mothers' roles were always strangely absent — especially since they almost never appeared in their daughters' journeys.
(T/C: yeah, where's Mei?)
---
Cecilia's villa.
The sunlight slowly receded from the corner of the sofa, making the room dimmer and enhancing the sorrowful atmosphere.
Misteln no longer spoke, only pressing her lips together. The script had already said everything for her, but memories of Alexandra still lingered fresh in her mind.
She had been a respectable mother — a selfless mother.
"If it were me… I'd probably make the same choice. After all, that's a mother's child."
Cecilia sighed in regret.
If possible, she truly wished she could have lived alongside Alexandra, to witness her every action that proved her greatness.
In the snowfield without medical equipment, she had to control her strongest emotions beyond normal limits — because if she made even one mistake, there would be no medicine to save her.
Theresa was secretly wiping her tears too. The story had deeply touched her.
"..."
Prometheus stayed silent. Even though she didn't get along with Misteln, judging from the facts alone, the pursuit of efficiency and results made her acknowledge Misteln's actions.
But Alexandra's way… she simply couldn't understand.
-----
In the game.
Three months later, the digital interference once again released her back into the real world.
Without a doubt, she had missed so much — saying goodbye to Alexandra, seeing the child's birth, and knowing whether she would survive.
In a daze, she sought out World Serpent and chose to strike a deal.
The first term of the deal — find Alexandra.
A few days later, there was no good news. In the freezing winds of Siberia, she stood silently before a tombstone for about three hours.
Staring at the cold slab of stone, she didn't know what she was thinking. After all, she had only met Alexandra for three days — hardly a long time, even compared to her newly born life.
It was far too short… but perhaps memories were not measured in length of time.
"Even with exposure to the same level of Houkai energy testing, she could have been left disabled for life. Unless… well, that scenario isn't worth mentioning."
"You don't really think an ordinary person could become a Herrscher, do you?"
The Serpent's tone carried a trace of mockery, but in truth, he was just stating his thoughts plainly.
For an ordinary girl like that, any connection to Misteln was already a curse.
And if she were to have any involvement with a Herrscher, he doubted the odds of her surviving were high.
Misteln listened quietly. Alexandra's daughter hadn't inherited her mother's good fortune — if she got close, it would only hasten her death.
Still, she learned her name.
"Bronya…"
Misteln whispered it, curious about this person's future. After all that her mother had given, even her own life's wish, what kind of path would she walk?
The dangerous snowy plains, a life-and-death childbirth without medical care, the agony of labor…
She had been born through a series of miracles — was she destined to become the next miracle?
Misteln wanted to see what future her first friend would choose.
How would the light of that opportunity shine in the days ahead?
"Serpent, after the Stigma Project is truly completed, what will happen to me?" she suddenly asked.
"First, the so-called 'Version 16' of the Stigma Project might never be carried out. One of my colleagues is still testing the possibility of Version 1."
"Of course, she won't know this — she'll continue her own process in sync… a perfect misdirection."
---
The Serpent's calm voice clearly darkened Mobius' expression in front of the screen, reminding her of unpleasant memories.
---
"And after that, when the Stigma Project activates, you will gain the chance to overwrite yourself — to completely perish, then be reborn through metamorphosis."
"What comes after will be an entirely new being — same appearance, same abilities, but a completely different will."
"To you… that is death in the truest sense."
----
[ Great Prophet — The Serpent. If he says she's a Herrscher, then she's a Herrscher. ]
[ Salute to Alexandra — A great mother, no matter the danger, she always… ]
[ If the final choice is Version 1, then… that's annihilation! ]
---
In the Golden courtyard.
"Who would've thought… the Grey Serpent has the gift of a crow's mouth. He says something's impossible, and then it ends up true."
Mobius frowned slightly, smiling coldly.
Why she smiled coldly, no one knew — and the Cat beside her didn't dare to ask.
"Heh, suddenly thought of that colleague… must've been forgotten up there on the moon like a stray dog?"
The cat girl laughed awkwardly, quickly changing the subject and muttering, "Looks pitiful — working herself to death on a plan, not even knowing she's already been written off."
"Bronya's mother… she's amazing. Even in such conditions, she still persevered and brought her into this world."
Elysia's eyes were red, her voice tinged with longing.
She had always been one to get attached easily. As Luo Mo put it, she was sensitive to others' stories… of course, she would never phrase it like Mobius — "poking her nose into other people's business."
So she let her imagination run wild — if she could meet that woman, what kind of moving words would she say?
If she could see all of Bronya, then what kind of expression would that be?
Unfortunately, that never came to pass.
"—To this lady, ordinary yet great, may the future never betray what she entrusted, and may her radiant soul shine forever."
Eden lifted her wine glass with a melodious grace, her bright smile gracing flushed cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with sincerity, toasting a vision she deemed worthy.
Even if they could not spend much time together, she would still remember her story. As the Saint Fountain Project once said, human civilization lives on through the telling and retelling of stories.
----
In the game.
Her silent reminiscence of past events was suddenly broken by an abrupt twist that shattered her thoughts.
She was slightly surprised, yet an inner smile quietly appeared on her lips.
Bronya appeared before her again. By severing the connection with the core through bombardment, she had lost the power of the Herrscher of Reason, becoming an ordinary person free from the restraints that bound her.
But she still could not understand why the other was so stubbornly fixated on the Herrscher of Reason, forcing her—through the Stigma Project—to voluntarily relinquish her powers.
She had not seen the fragment about her own mother, and thus could not grasp that it originated from her aunt's "special consideration."
Hare offered an explanation: jealousy... She was jealous of the Herrscher of Reason. They were clearly similar existences—so why was the other showered with admiration from so many?
In the end, she looked at Bronya and smiled provocatively:
"The Herrscher of Reason—nothing more than this."
"He has not transcended the suffering I once knew. The only difference between us is that he was born with a gift, whereas I was born with a curse."
This was her true feeling—not that she denied the other's greatness, but rather... she believed that if she had been given the same innate conditions, she would be no less.
Now, before them stood two with vastly different strengths: Bronya, stripped of her powers, and Hare, who had fully merged with the 300,000 thoughts of the Stigma Project.
The Herrscher's core gem had dimmed. Bronya took a deep breath, gripping it tightly.
"Bronya admits—speaking purely of strength—the Stigma Project surpasses the Herrscher of Reason. But don't forget, Bronya... is also one in 300,000!!"
A faint blue glow flowed from the gem, then flared into brilliance.
Long acknowledged by the 300,000 thoughts, Bronya was indeed one of them—already a member of the Herrscher of Reason, even if her strength now was but one three-hundred-thousandth of its full power.
Hare narrowed her eyes; what unfolded was beyond her expectations, bringing her constant surprises.
Yet all this was still far from enough to shatter the Stigma Project.
In the next moment, Bronya used the Herrscher of Reason's power to collapse the great net of the Stigma Project, bringing Kiana and Mei to her side—but she refused their help in fighting the Hare.
Instead, she insisted on facing her alone.
The battle officially began. Hare raised her spear and standard high, summoning heroes from human history and recreating their epics upon the execution ground.
Her spear swept with domineering force, commanding endless executioners, forcing Bronya into retreat again and again. During the fight, she eagerly attempted to reclaim those scattered fragments of the 300,000 thoughts.
Yet even if Bronya regained her peak form, she could hardly withstand the Stigma Project's might.
Bronya could only retreat step by step, and when Hare again tried to strip her Herrscher of Reason powers, she was barely able to defend herself, relying solely on the Hare Armor's shields, which were repeatedly beaten back.
Hare was slightly disappointed, but she acknowledged the Herrscher of Reason's intellect and strength. Precisely for that reason, she decided to deliver the final blow.
"See reality clearly—this is the Endless Cycle!"
Hare lifted her spear and banner high. Unimaginable Honkai energy condensed in the sky above her; a purple beam consumed the heavens, slowly forming a meteor aimed at the earth.
The deep purple mist of Honkai energy swallowed Bronya's vision entirely, engulfing her.
"Yes, see reality clearly, Misteln."
A calm voice came from within the fog. What unfolded now bore the name of truth—the Herrscher of Truth!
"You are facing... the Name of Truth!"
A pale blue beam enveloped Bronya. Her armor transformed violently—her light, futuristic battle suit replaced her old attire. Two half-transparent blue ribbons took the place of her skirt, a blue crown of truth rested on her head, and in her hands formed a spear with a radiant blue tip. She thrust it straight at the meteor.
——The outcome was decided.
In the Hare's eyes, this was no weapon from the history of human civilization, but a power belonging to the future.
The Herrscher of Reason... fully weaponized!
The Hare's eyes widened as memories surfaced—Alexandra's resolute gaze as she vowed to pass the rights of the future to her child.
For Bronya, becoming the Herrscher of Truth was not without cost.
The core weaponization consumed the 300,000 thoughts—that was her price.
Inheritance is proven through loss.
She inherited the Herrscher of Reason's ideals, the 300,000 thoughts... But mere existence was not their meaning.
They had once aided her countless times.
Precisely for that reason, she had to live up to what they entrusted to her—surpassing them to reach the future they envisioned.
Among drifting grass and flowers appeared a senior she deeply respected—the starting point of all this inheritance.
In the past, she and Joyce had strived to reach that existence.
"Forgive me. For the sake of tomorrow, Bronya must overturn the past you left behind."
"But Bronya does not regret it..."
She took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she looked straight at her senior—only to realize he was not as towering as she had imagined.
"The only unchanging truth of humanity is that truth will always change."
The youth's smile was warmer than before.
"Farewell, Welt Joyce."
"Bronya is honored... to bear your legacy."
The girl did not linger—there was still much to do in the real world.
She would carry what he left and keep moving forward.