Cocolia then explained to Serval what an Aeon was, what a Path was, how the Astral Express—Akhivili's legacy—held an extraordinary status in the vast universe, and how the Nameless had extensive experience dealing with Stellarons.
"They… really can be trusted?" Serval's voice was full of disbelief, the mismatch in scale making her feel unreal. "Three young people… can solve a nightmare that's plagued Belobog for seven hundred years?"
It made Belobog's centuries of despair—every Supreme Guardian's sacrifices, the countless Silvermane Guards who'd died, the people who'd suffered—feel like one enormous joke.
"The Astral Express is far beyond what you can imagine. Don't measure the universe by Belobog's yardstick," Cocolia said with certainty.
"As for trust…"
She suddenly leaned forward, gently yet firmly cupping Serval's cheeks with both hands, forcing Serval to meet her gaze.
Serval instinctively resisted—then, the moment their eyes met, her mind shook violently.
Those weren't Cocolia's familiar amber eyes, tinged with Preservation's power.
Deep inside those pupils, it was as if a kaleidoscope had opened—spinning.
Serval's head buzzed. Her vision warped and twisted. She felt as though she were falling into a kaleidoscopic abyss.
Countless versions of herself—childhood, adolescence, her research years, her slump, her fury—flashed like shattered mirror shards, whirling, tumbling, and plunging in an endless spiral.
A strange force she'd never felt before—gentle and cold, lucid and chaotic—wrapped around her consciousness in an instant.
"What is—?!" Serval cried out, trying to wrench free, but she couldn't move.
"Don't be afraid." Cocolia's voice had an odd, penetrating steadiness to it, soothing her. "This is the false Path the mirror brought into being—the Heart."
"Maybe it's because I've sat in this position for too long," Cocolia continued, watching Serval's many reflections fall inside her eyes, "played too many games of power… used and borne too many people's expectations, fears, and desires… without realizing it, I aligned with one facet of this Path. Or perhaps—once you sit on a ruler's throne, 'playing the human heart' becomes fate. You will be caught by it, sooner or later."
She spoke, word by word, as Serval trembled in that spinning abyss:
"And with the Heart's power, I can feel… whether someone is lying. Before the human heart, lies have nowhere to hide."
Cocolia released her hands. The kaleidoscopic hallucination vanished instantly, leaving only a pair of slightly tired yet astonishingly clear amber eyes.
"Therefore," she concluded, "I judge that those three Nameless—what they said, what they did—was sincere. They are worthy of Belobog's last hope."
"…The Heart Path…" Serval pressed a hand to her chest, still shaken. For a split second, she'd felt every disguise she wore torn away, her insides laid bare before Cocolia.
"…I see."
She let out a long breath, and the tension finally drained from her body.
A verdict made by Path-power erased her last doubts.
The boulder that had crushed Belobog for seven hundred years seemed to loosen—just enough for a thin beam of hope to shine through.
Fatigue hit her like a wave, and she nearly collapsed into the sofa.
"Then what comes after?" Serval asked softly, voice airy with the weight lifting off her heart. "After the Stellaron is dealt with."
Cocolia sat back, eyes turning toward the glittering sea of lights outside the window—Belobog's countless homes—her gaze distant yet unwavering.
"After? We rebuild. The eternal winter will recede. Belobog must adapt to a new climate… a new future. I'll break the barrier I created between the Upper and Lower Cities—let sunlight and resources fall equally upon every Belobog citizen. And then…"
She paused. Her voice was calm, but carried an authority that refused negotiation.
"I will formally pass the Supreme Guardian's seat to Bronya."
Serval listened, unsurprised. Bronya as successor had long been the consensus.
But she caught the unspoken edge in Cocolia's words.
"And then?" Serval pressed, leaning forward, eyes locked on Cocolia's face. "What about you?"
Cocolia turned back slowly to meet that gaze—so stubborn it was almost sharp enough to cut.
Her face was blank, still as ancient ice.
A long time passed. Then, at last, a crack formed in that ice, revealing something complicated—and resolute beneath.
"And then…" Cocolia said quietly, "I will have Bronya hold a public trial for me."
"In the name of Belobog's Supreme Guardian, she will judge the former Supreme Guardian—Cocolia Rand—for every crime committed during my rule. The truth will be made public. Everyone who suffered, everyone who died because of my wrong decisions… will receive an answer."
Serval's ears rang as if struck by lightning.
"A trial?" she blurted, voice breaking. "Cocolia, you—"
"It's what I deserve." Cocolia's tone was absolute, without a shred of hesitation.
"Serval… under the Stellaron's corruption, even if it wasn't my true intent, I committed too many unforgivable wrongs. The Silvermane Guards' deaths. The suffering in the Underworld. The hoarding of resources. The injustice. The cover-ups…"
"Every line of it is stained with innocent blood and tears."
"Only a fair trial—only letting my sins stand naked in sunlight—can truly wash away the shadow cast over the Supreme Guardian's seat. Only then can Bronya's new era fully break from the past. Only then can Upper and Lower finally reconcile… truly become one."
Her voice wasn't loud. But it carried a conviction without regret—no theatrical repentance, only the cold clarity of someone choosing to sacrifice herself.
Serval opened her mouth, but her throat felt blocked solid. Not a single word came out.
She looked into Cocolia's eyes and saw no wavering at all. Every argument she could make turned pale and useless before that resolve.
Yes—this was what she "deserved."
Serval closed her eyes in pain.
Even if the corruption wasn't Cocolia's true self, the tragedies were real. They happened. People died.
Cocolia's choice was her reckoning… and her final offering to Belobog's future.
What could Serval even say?
Just like how, after the mirror's ordeal, Serval had stormed into the fortress on instinct—ready to gamble her life to confront Cocolia—
Cocolia, too, had already chosen her destination in the clear-eyed abyss: for a better Belobog, she would willingly step onto the altar as the last sacrifice.
A tidal wave of sour grief surged up and smashed through Serval's defenses.
Hot tears burst out without warning, blurring her sight.
She bit her lip hard, trying to choke back the humiliating sound rising in her throat, but her body trembled violently all the same—shoulders shaking like a helpless child.
Cocolia watched her old friend—shaking, eyes swollen red—her icy determination melting at the edges.
She drew Serval gently into her arms.
Cheek pressed to Serval's damp temple, her voice warm, almost tender:
"Tonight… stay, Serval."
After a long moment, a muffled reply came from Serval's throat, thick with tears:
"…Mm."
That night, outside the deepest bedroom of the Supreme Guardian's quarters, the on-duty Silvermane Guards were quietly swapped out—replaced by an all-female rotation.
They stood rigid in their cold armor, statues under the palace lamps.
Yet their eyes kept drifting toward the tightly shut, heavy wooden door, ears straining to catch the sounds that pierced through it.
At first, the sounds were sharp and forceful—then gradually roughened, dissolving into a long, echoing "oh-ho-ho-ho~" that reverberated through the frozen corridors.
Two voices traded off, their sources indistinguishable.
But the difference in tone alone proved that the Supreme Guardian had to be one of them.
The young female Guards could barely comprehend it.
That iron-willed woman who ruled over Belobog's fate—high above all, like an unapproachable monument—could also… could also make such shameless, unguarded sounds, like any ordinary woman.
The shock of that contrast violently overturned everything they'd ever projected onto their highest leader.
Faces burning, breath unconsciously quickening, some of them found their minds drifting into fantasies they usually only dared chew on alone in the dead of night.
Someone licked dry lips without realizing.
Someone shifted her toes, unconsciously pressing her thighs together and rubbing—ever so slightly—against the inside of her cold leg armor. Metal boots whispered against polished stone.
"Report, Captain," one Guard said, voice trembling as if squeezed through clenched teeth. "I… need to use the restroom."
"I don't feel so good either…" another blurted out immediately.
The captain's jaw tightened. Her sharp eyes swept across flushed cheeks and evasive stares.
In the end, she only gave a stiff nod.
The departing Guard didn't head toward the lavatory at the corridor's end.
Instead, she slipped into a dark corner far from any line of sight.
Soon, faint, damp-sounding gasps rose from the shadows, followed by the soft rustle of fabric… and a wet, sticky sizzle that made the other Guards' ears burn.
Ten-plus minutes later, she returned to her post, steps unsteady, head lowered—unable to meet anyone's eyes.
The same scene repeated several times throughout the night.
At one point, Cocolia's most trusted attendant—an austere, unsmiling female officer—appeared as if nothing were unusual.
She carried a huge silver tray, atop it a massive crystal goblet filled with water.
Expression blank, eyes forward, she walked to the door, knocked three times, and entered.
When she emerged, the goblet was empty.
By the time the last breathless sounds finally faded into the deep night, it was already well past midnight.
The attendant appeared again—this time holding a thick stack of fresh bedding, with two neatly pressed outfits draped over her arm.
She pushed the door open and went inside.
A little later, the door opened again.
The attendant came out carrying a heavy, sodden bundle of used bedding—so soaked it looked like it could be wrung out.
It had been wadded up carelessly, but the dark wet stains and the lingering, unmistakable atmosphere were obvious.
Every Guard outside swallowed hard, eyes stuck to that damp cloth.
At dawn, the weak morning light fought its way through the curtains, spilling onto a bed left in chaos.
Cocolia and Serval lay naked, sleeping in a tight embrace.
Cocolia's arm circled Serval's waist; Serval curled into her as if seeking shelter, golden hair spread across Cocolia's neck and pillow.
Both bodies held the lazy flush of exhaustion; sweat-beads still clung to skin marked by scratches and bite-marks of varying depth.
On the carpet below was a battlefield: scattered clothes, and an array of bizarre temporary constructs faintly glowing with Preservation's golden light—twisted spirals, pliant branch-like shapes, all slicked with questionable moisture.
Then—
Cocolia's eyes snapped open.
There was no drowsiness in them at all—only sudden, knife-cold alertness.
She shot upright, breathing hard, chest heaving as if she'd just clawed her way out of a suffocating nightmare.
"What is it…?" Serval murmured, eyes half-open, voice hoarse and exhausted.
Last night had been a brutal campaign for her.
After awakening the Heart Path, Cocolia's perception and control had become terrifyingly precise—Serval felt transparent before her. Every sensitive point, every switch that could be flipped, even weaknesses Serval herself hadn't realized… all had been uncovered and struck with ruthless accuracy.
She'd been completely routed.
Sure, under that relentless guidance, she'd managed moments of retaliation—found a few weaknesses on Cocolia too, left behind a handful of "victories" she could be smug about later.
But Cocolia's Preservation power was simply too strong. Her stamina and recovery were beyond normal people.
Overall, Serval had lost far more than she'd won—and now she felt like her bones had been taken apart and reassembled wrong.
Cocolia didn't answer Serval's groggy question.
Her gaze swept the room, then fixed on the closed door, her voice turning into pure command:
"Come in."
The last traces of intimacy evaporated.
Almost instantly, the attendant pushed the door open, as if she'd been standing outside the whole time.
Her face remained impassive, eyes lowered—professional to the bone.
The moment the door opened, Serval sucked in a sharp breath on instinct and yanked the thin blanket up, shrinking under it until only her eyes—flustered and mortified—peeked out.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 138)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter160)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter98)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter175)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 163
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 150
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 100
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 170
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 145
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 125
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 69
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 90
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 100
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 70
Uma Musume: I Want All 90
I Can Copy Unique Skills 65
Summoning an Evil God, but the 52
Supernatural Multiverse 65
My Harem Is Indescribable 55
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 55
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 66
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 55
Still playing traditional Honk 35
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 35
What Should I Do After Switchi 24
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 35
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 27
Transmigrated as Sukuna 27
Checking In in Demon Slayer 32
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 44
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