In the pitch-black galaxy, a blazing planet burned, lighting its surroundings.
Above it, white fire spread outward, shining across the stars.
It was the end of a god. It was the final cry of a lonely being, reaching out for companions.
Even if that cry could endanger the entire universe, still—it rang out.
In the scale of the galaxy, it lasted only an instant.
A few fleeting days, then silence again.
But for Hoshigaki Sora, that cry would be remembered. The cry of one who awakened in betrayal.
They had been enemies. Precisely because of that, he understood why she had gone so far, why her creed had grown so extreme.
They say: the one who understands you most is often your enemy.
So it was for Sora and Titanironia.
Their meeting had been brief, but in battle they had come to know one another's convictions.
And at the end—her hand had reached out to him.
Their struggle had only ever been one of ideals and positions.
In another place, another time, perhaps they could even have fought side by side.
When her remnants were gone, the fire would vanish too.
And then only Sora and the Iron Cavalry would remember that once, a god had descended here.
Sora watched the burning planet shrink in the distance, his heart heavy.
Now—perhaps—he could rest.
But…
He raised a finger.
"Hey, can we maybe change the way you're transporting me in this medical pod?" he asked the Cavalry beside him.
"What's wrong with it?" one replied, puzzled. Was she doing something wrong?
"No, no—it's just… this pose gives me a weird feeling."
He quickly softened his tone. It wasn't their fault. But the way the Glamoth Iron Cavalry carried him in his pod… it unsettled him.
After fainting, they had placed him in a treatment pod, bound for Straton III.
And their chosen method of transport?
Several Cavalry simply hoisted the pod on their shoulders and carried it.
Normally, Sora wouldn't think twice.
But right now—he had just crawled back from the graveyard of AEONS.
From the graveyard.
And the moment he opened his eyes, he found himself being… carried like this.
His vision wavered. For a second, he swore he saw several dark-skinned men in sunglasses.
Their smiles were confident, their arms outstretched, welcoming clients.
Each a master of coffin-carrying.
Each with their own signature style.
Clothes and steps, enough to spread this strange culture across the stars.
The dancing at funerals, leaping to song—it sent shivers down his spine.
He wanted only one thing: to change this.
"Look, there's no gravity in space, right? Couldn't you just drag the pod forward?" Sora suggested.
"No. If we drag it, the pod can't stay powered," came the answer.
This pod wasn't mobile equipment.
It was running only because the Cavalry carrying it were channeling energy, their white flames converted into fuel.
So they dismissed his idea.
"…My body's healed. I can fly with you," Sora tried again.
His body had recovered, thanks to Titanironia's last gift. He felt better than ever.
He could fly alongside them back to the ship.
But the three captains of the Cavalry only exchanged looks—and smirked.
"Hmph. You think we'll believe you now?"
"Exactly. You expect us not to know your condition?"
"Sora, don't try that trick again."
They had been fooled too many times.
It wasn't that they didn't believe in him.
They didn't believe in his own reports of his health.
Hotaru even added: "Don't trust him. He can even tamper with mechanical records!"
She remembered when Serus had unleashed countless weapons against them.
Afterward, she had seen Sora hacking through the net to find Serus's location.
He wasn't some galactic master hacker.
But faking a pod's diagnostics? Child's play.
"…Hotaru, listen—" Sora began.
He wanted to explain: Heart and Brain had left. Only his burning heart remained. He couldn't hack anymore.
"What, going to say you don't have that power now?" she cut him off, smiling sharply.
Sora nodded.
Her grin widened into a dragon-arc. She turned to Mitsutake.
"Mitsutake, remember how someone swore they wouldn't run off?"
Sora froze. His mouth opened, closed.
She was right. He had sworn. And the moment the sky tore open, he had run.
"What else is there to say?"
Hotaru leaned over the pod's cover. "Lie down quietly. You're not leaving this thing until we reach base."
"…But—" He could feel their resolve. "Don't you think this… atmosphere's a bit much?"
He wanted to break the eerie mood.
He had just come back from a graveyard, after all.
The others glanced at one another, then nodded knowingly.
"…I see. You feel lonely in space, don't you?"
"…Right. Yeah. Wait—no, no, no!" Sora shook his head.
"Got it," Unkyō said. With all her experience surfing the interstellar net, she got it.
"…Got what?" Sora blinked, bewildered.
...
A starship drifted quietly through the void.
Inside, however, it was anything but quiet.
At the console, a girl with a high ponytail was locked in an intense fighting game match.
The speakers blasted tense, triumphant music.
A man, sword across his lap, frowned deeper with every note.
If not for the need to keep an eye on her, he'd have left long ago.
Last time, when he didn't watch her, Silver Wolf had pushed the ship to maximum speed.
And while he couldn't die, even he didn't want to trust his life to her piloting "skills."
He still had things to do. He didn't want to crash just because she thought real flight was "more fun than the game."
But the noise wore on him.
"…Next time, let Firefly watch her," he muttered.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ship, quiet reigned.
Two women sat by the great viewing window, gazing at the stars.
"We've reached this system. Firefly, how do you feel?" Kafka asked, setting down a cup of tea to soothe her.
"I… I don't know. But the feeling hasn't stopped."
Firefly clasped her hands at her chest, eyes restless on the void.
For days, fragments had flashed in her mind.
In them, she stood in someone else's place.
Facing a black-armored figure, blade in hand.
Even through the fragments, she could feel the weight of his creed.
And in those fragments, she had seen the place.
The Zieltworth sigil, cracked and old—but unmistakable.
That planet, known for treating Entropy Loss Syndrome.
She had watched it for years.
"…Who can say?" Kafka's gaze lingered on the void.
The dark expanse pressed heavy, like some beast waiting to devour them.
"After all—Elio already foresaw it."
Firefly nodded faintly.
No matter what, she had to go. To see with her own eyes.
Just then, the ship's intercom blared.
"Kafka! Firefly! Quick!"
Silver Wolf's excited voice rang: "We found something fun!"
They exchanged a look. Then hurried to the cockpit.
"Look, look!"
Silver Wolf hid the "Game Over" screen and pulled up the external feed.
In the void, several silver lights were shifting.
Shaping themselves. Scattering. Reforming into new shapes.
"What… is this?"
They stared, baffled.
"Look closer!" Silver Wolf zoomed the center of the pattern.
There—a metal pod, carried forward by figures wrapped in flame.
"…What the—"
"We've stumbled into a galactic wonder!" Silver Wolf grinned.
"Heliobi Carrying a Coffin!"