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"Disappear along with the butterflies—phantoms of the past!"
With a blur of purple light and several scythe slashes, Seele cut down a swathe of Fragmentum monsters. She skidded to a halt, her breathing heavy. "Can you guys still hold on?!" she shouted over the howling wind.
"The... number of these things... it's endless!" March 7th yelled back, firing a volley of arrows that froze a charging weaver in its tracks.
"It is going to be endless if we stay on the defensive," Kenta hissed, his eyes glowing with a dangerous crimson hue. "Everyone! Get behind me!"
Trusting him implicitly, the group cleared their immediate vicinity and huddled around the black-clad swordsman.
"Kenta, what are you planning?" Bronya asked, her rifle held ready.
"Don't worry," Kenta replied with a grim calmness. "I'm going to turn up the heat."
He waited for a few agonizing seconds, allowing the sea of monsters to close in until they were mere feet away. Then, he held his broken sword horizontally, the sheath still on. With a swift motion, he smeared a concentrated ball of flame across the scabbard. Instantly, the metal turned white-hot, enveloped in a roaring crimson aura.
He slammed the base of the scabbard into the frozen earth.
Bong!
A massive shockwave of fire erupted from the point of impact, expanding in a perfect, lethal circle. Every Fragmentum monster touched by the wave was instantly vaporized into ash.
March 7th stared at the blackened ground and the melted permafrost, her jaw dropping. "Seriously?! If you had a move like that, why didn't you use it ten minutes ago?"
Kenta tapped her on the head, though his hand was trembling slightly from the exertion. "Because that move eats energy like Sampo eats credits! I can't do that twice!"
But the reprieve was short-lived. From the edges of the cliff, even more monsters began to crawl up. "Crap! Who turned on 'Endless Mode'?" Kenta complained.
"We have to go for the source," Dan Heng said, pointing his spear upward. "The Stellaron is the heart, but Cocolia is the valve. We subdue her, we stop the flow."
Kenta looked up at the towering Creation Engine. "Right. Stelle, you're with me. The rest of you, keep the ground clear!"
The two of them began a frantic sprint, leaping onto the mangled mechanical arm of the titan. The climb was a nightmare of shifting gears and freezing wind.
"Stelle! Look out!" Kenta roared.
The Creation Engine swung its massive free hand, a slab of iron the size of a house, toward the two climbers. Kenta lunged to push Stelle forward, but the vibration of the engine's movement threw them both off balance.
Boom!
The titan's own limbs collided, sending a massive tremor through the arm. Stelle lost her footing, slipping toward the abyss. In a heartbeat, Kenta snatched her hand, swung his body around the railing, and used the momentum to hurl her toward the top of the engine's head. He stayed behind, bracing himself to distract the mechanical behemoth.
Stelle executed a perfect mid-air recovery and landed on the flat crown of the engine. She stood up, face-to-face with the Supreme Guardian. But Cocolia was gone—in her place was a hollowed-out avatar of the Stellaron, encased in jagged ice armor and pulsating with a corrupt, golden light.
A few minutes later, Kenta finally fought his way past the secondary defenses. As he neared the summit, a shadow suddenly loomed over him. He looked up, and his heart stopped.
It was Stelle. She was flying backward, launched by a devastating blow. Cocolia's ice-cold lance was buried deep in her chest. Her eyes were shut, her body limp in freefall.
"Stelle!" Kenta screamed. A cold, suffocating rage swept through him. He had spent years as a cynical loner, but these past few days with the Express crew had changed something. Seeing the girl who constantly annoyed him with cheesy pickup lines being "killed" ignited a fire in his soul that threatened to consume everything.
But the rage died as quickly as it was born.
In mid-air, Stelle's eyes snapped open. With a grunt of effort, she grabbed the lance and pulled it out of her own chest.
Instead of blood, fierce, golden-orange flames erupted from the wound. The very sky seemed to tremble as the gaze of the Aeon of Preservation, Qlipoth, fell upon her. The cosmic hammer of the Amber Lord descended in the mental plane, forging a new destiny.
Stelle flipped in the air and landed on the palm of the Creation Engine. The lance in her hand was no longer a shard of ice; it was a blazing pillar of fire, radiating the indomitable will of the City Builders.
Kenta stared, blinking slowly. "Look at how ridiculous this is..." he muttered. "I forgot I was traveling with the main character. Get stabbed once, unlock a new Path, and get a legendary weapon upgrade. Six-hundred and sixty-six... that's just cheating."
Cocolia reeled back, her golden eyes wide with disbelief. "This is impossible... the Stellaron promised..."
"Nothing is impossible!" Kenta shouted, finally reaching the top. "The will of the people has made its choice! Wake up, Cocolia!"
"His power is with me!" Cocolia shrieked, her voice a chorus of a thousand dying screams. "You are nothing but the death throes of a collapsing world!"
She unleashed a massive wave of frost, but Stelle stepped forward, plunging her blazing lance into the mechanical floor. A shimmering, indestructible barrier of golden light erupted, absorbing the entire attack without a scratch.
Kenta watched from behind the shield, feeling a mix of relief and awe. "She's a stat-monster now. She probably thinks she's invincible."
It didn't take long. No matter what Cocolia threw, Stelle countered it with the Blazing Lance. With one final, explosive charge, Stelle struck home.
"The lance tip is already ignited!"
Cocolia was sent flying, the ice armor shattering as she reverted to her human form. She fell to her knees, gasping for air as the golden light faded from her eyes.
Bronya rushed forward, reaching out for her mother. "Mother! Please!"
But the moment she touched Cocolia's shoulder, a violent pulse of energy threw her back. The Stellaron inside Cocolia was going critical, consuming her body as it prepared for one last, desperate outburst of power.
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