(Clean, non-explicit translation; any graphic sexual content has been skipped or rewritten as fade-to-black.)
"In trials of iron and fire—after surviving life and death together—Bronya and the Nameless will forge a bond that's tight enough to be called an alliance."
Cocolia's gaze drifted into the void, as if piercing walls and time itself to see a future not yet born.
"That bond will become Belobog's strongest shield when the IPC arrives."
"And I…"
Her eyes deepened, the amber within them turning almost bottomless.
"…will use this window to drag that mirror fragment out of Between Hearts and into the physical universe."
"You've lost your mind?!" Serval blurted, voice cracking. "A mirror fragment—that's a relic of something on the level of a god!"
Cocolia wore a faint, almost smug smile.
"Last night, I wandered through the IPC's mind-network inside Between Hearts for a long time. They're obsessing over the mirror's remains—throwing massive resources into the search. If I can just…"
She faltered—her breath catching, posture tensing as if her body betrayed her mid-sentence.
Serval moved in a flash, cutting her off with a harsh, angry gesture—forcing Cocolia to stop, to listen, to face her.
Not with desire.
With fury.
Serval's eyes were cold, grief and rage layered so thick they almost froze the air.
"How far are you going to grind yourself down, Cocolia Landau?"
Her voice was low, every syllable like it had been crushed out between teeth.
"First you talk about putting yourself on trial—nailing your own name to a pillar of shame. Now you want to play the villain, stand against your daughter, stand against the people who are trying to save Belobog, stand against everyone who wants peace—stand against the whole world."
The emotion in the room hit like a wave. The messy, exhausted bedroom seemed to shrink under the weight of Serval's words.
"Answer me."
Cocolia wrenched herself free with a burst of sheer will—breathing hard, eyes damp from involuntary tears.
She turned to Serval.
And for a moment, the mask cracked.
There was pain there. Resolve. Something impossibly tender, almost desperate—like warmth trying to survive beneath a glacier.
She saw it, clearly: under the influence of everything that had happened—everything she'd awakened—Serval was beginning to want things she shouldn't.
Cocolia raised a hand.
Her palm was cool, faintly trembling, and she cupped Serval's face with a gentleness that didn't belong in a battlefield.
"Live," she whispered, voice hoarse and soft—nearly a plea.
Her thumb traced the edge of Serval's cheekbone, paused near her lips.
"Promise me… for me… live."
The words were light as breath—and heavier than stone.
Serval stared back, stubborn fire in her eyes, tears trembling but refusing to fall.
She was accusing Cocolia without speaking:
If I live on the bones of your sacrifice—what meaning does that have?
Cocolia understood.
And the last trace of softness drained away like water pulled into ice.
Her face tightened. Her spine straightened.
The woman in front of Serval was no longer her friend, no longer the one who had let herself collapse into weakness.
She became what Belobog had shaped her into:
The Supreme Guardian.
The will of the city.
A helmswoman steering straight into the storm.
Her voice returned—cold, controlled, final.
"Serval Landau. For Belobog—live."
Not love. Not longing.
Duty.
A command delivered like judgment.
The room went silent.
The fire in Serval's eyes froze under that single phrase—for Belobog—until all that remained was a stunned, hollow confusion.
"Looks like you two weren't wrong yesterday."
Dan Heng's voice was calm as steel, cutting through the tension.
His gaze swept over the Silvermane Guards surrounding them, then settled on the woman at their center—expression hard, posture strict:
Bronya Rand.
"We've been betrayed again."
Yesterday, the Astral Express trio barely exchanged a handful of lines with Cocolia before the mirror's illusion swallowed them whole.
Dan Heng should've caught something—he prided himself on experience, on reading people.
But Cocolia had already stepped onto the "Heart" path; she hid her inner state flawlessly, smooth and airtight, deceiving even him.
Instead, it was March 7th and Stelle—two people who ran on instinct—that sensed the wrongness first.
Stelle, as a vessel tied to a Stellaron, could feel the residue around Cocolia.
And March 7th… had a talent for stumbling into secrets like it was a law of nature.
"This is ridiculous!"
March 7th stamped her foot, fuming.
"Why is it that every three planets, we get wanted again?!"
"If yesterday we'd prepared an escape plan instead of wandering around—"
Dan Heng started analyzing, eyes sharp as he mapped guard positions and lines of fire.
"I can grow too, you know!" March shot back, cheeks puffed, eyes darting as she searched for something—anything.
Then she saw it: an alley sealed off nearby.
She remembered Gepard's warning, clear as day:
"—The street by Goethe Hotel is heavily corrupted by the Fragmentum. It's extremely dangerous. Do not go."
March's eyes lit up.
"Ha! Who said I was just wandering around yesterday?"
She lifted her chin proudly and jabbed a finger toward the blocked street.
"I planned an escape route while I was sightseeing! Look!"
Dan Heng followed her gesture.
"The Fragmentum… the reason it's sealed."
He understood immediately. A flicker of approval crossed his eyes.
"March… that plan is surprisingly good."
Then his tone snapped from praise to command.
"Both of you—get ready to break through."
"W–Wait!" March froze, volume shooting up. "I was kidding! We're doing it for real?!"
No more time.
The trio moved as one.
Stelle swung her bat—hard—knocking a guard off his feet and into the crowd.
Dan Heng followed, sweeping his spear in tight arcs that targeted joints and balance—not lethal, just disabling.
March 7th raised her bow and sealed the guards' ranged mechanisms in ice, gears locking, barrels frosting over, the threat silenced in seconds.
A gap opened.
They didn't hesitate. They dove straight into the Fragmentum.
The path was brutal—like the world itself wanted them to turn back. The corrupted street fought them with every step.
And the Fragmentum wasn't enough to stop pursuit.
Just when they thought they'd bought breathing room—
Footsteps poured out of the shadows again.
Bronya's silhouette appeared, leading elite troops who knew this terrain like muscle memory. They emerged from angles the trio hadn't anticipated and sealed them in once more—tight, disciplined, cold-eyed.
Bronya stepped forward, voice level.
"You underestimated us."
"Even corrupted, this is still Belobog. The Guards know this land."
March 7th threw her hands up, resignation written all over her face.
"Okay, okay—fine."
Then she couldn't help it. She asked anyway, half-indignant, half-baffled:
"So what did we even do this time? Can we at least get a reason?!"
Bronya felt a bitter irony twist inside her—because she didn't know either. The order had come down sudden and absolute.
But her face didn't change.
"I was ordered to capture you. As for the charges and judgment, the tribunal will inform you at trial."
She avoided March's probing stare and kept her voice purely procedural.
Dan Heng caught it—just the smallest flicker of hesitation in Bronya's eyes.
No justification. No prepared story.
This was a top-down command, brute and unadorned.
"Enough talking."
His voice dropped.
"March. Stelle."
His gaze sharpened into a blade.
"This isn't like before. We can't afford to be taken."
Before the last word finished, his spear was already leveled at Bronya.
March's frustration evaporated, replaced by battle-lust and focus.
"Hah! Finally!"
Ice-blue light surged. A crystalline bow formed in her hands, breath frosting in the air.
"About time you said it! Let's show them what the Express can do!"
The fight exploded again.
Even holding back—refusing to kill, aiming only to freeze, disarm, or knock down—the gap between Pathstriders and ordinary soldiers was overwhelming.
Dan Heng moved like a river made of steel, spear strikes snapping weapons aside and folding bodies to the ground.
Stelle's bat hit like a wrecking ball, shields buckling as if they were cardboard.
March's arrows found ankles, wrists, hinges—locking movement, tearing coordination apart.
The guard line broke, scattered, collapsing.
Bronya's golden eyes narrowed.
She exhaled once, controlled.
Then she lifted her weapon—heavy, distinctive—and a faint amber glow gathered around her.
The Path of Preservation answered her will.
She stepped into the center of the chaos.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as if she was becoming a moving fortress—anchored to the land itself.
The air thickened under that weight.
A stray thought flickered through her mind—absurdly ordinary against the violence:
…Ugh. I'm going to need a bath again. What a pain.
Her boots were already damp inside from the chase through the Fragmentum—sticky, uncomfortable with every movement.
Then she fired.
Her shots were sharp and punishing—each blast carrying the dense, stubborn gravity of Preservation.
Dan Heng's expression tightened. He was forced to commit to full defense, spear and body working overtime, every clash sending tremors up his arms.
Stelle tried to flank—
Bronya didn't even turn.
Secondary fire snapped out, intercepting the route. Stelle was forced to block, the impact blooming in a harsh flash that shoved her backward.
March's ice arrows screamed toward Bronya's legs—
They struck the amber barrier and shattered, frost spreading for a heartbeat before the barrier's internal force cracked it apart.
Bronya didn't slow.
Not even half a step.
Against Bronya—fighting seriously, shielded by Preservation—the trio's "non-lethal" restraint started to become a liability.
And the battle turned, sharply, into something far more dangerous.
If you paste Chapter 56, I'll keep the same "clean, plot-forward" translation style.
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
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin