Chapter 67: Can You Only Play as Qlipoth with Two Hands?
The voice of the Preservation's divine form dragged out at a pace slow enough to lull a person to sleep, yet every single syllable carried the crushing weight of a collapsing star.
"Welt. This truly is, in the most literal sense, a grand spectacle." Himeko rested her palm gently against the chilled glass of the Astral Express observation window. Her amber eyes reflected the colossal, golden, rock-hewn deity looming in the atmosphere outside.
"The Interastral Peace Corporation runs a luxury tour project called the 'Amber Lord Glory Day Trip.' It requires a staggering payment of 1.8 billion Credit Points just to admire Qlipoth up close from an orbital spaceship near Pier Point." A faint, amused smile touched her lips. "By my calculations, we have essentially earned 5.4 billion Credit Points just by looking out the window."
"You... all... look... so... ti...ny..."
"Rekka, how are you feeling right now?" Himeko called out, tilting her head toward the sky. It was entirely impossible to tell where the giant's eyes were actually located on that monolithic, faceless visage.
"Not... bad..." The giant god's tone stretched out in a slow, tectonic rumble. His massive hand, an appendage fully capable of crushing a planet into dust with a casual squeeze, was currently gripping a celestial hammer, diligently stacking cosmic masonry to build a wall. "Bet...ter... than... be...com...ing... Na...nook..."
He had a point. At least laying cosmic concrete did not carry the occupational hazard of casually erasing entire civilizations., the Path of Preservation allowed him to manifest solid aetherial crystal barriers out of thin air, making the act of wall-building ridiculously efficient.
CLANG.
Rekka's hammer descended. The sound was a physical shockwave, a deafening ring of creation that rattled the very bedrock of Jarilo-VI. Without a shadow of a doubt, the local populace's faith in the Aeon of Preservation had just been cemented into absolute, unshakable fanaticism.
Then, the rhythmic, planet-shaking wall-building ceased. The colossal entity shifted, casting a heavy, unseen gaze down toward the frozen city. To be precise, he was looking through the city, peering deep into the subterranean depths beneath the permafrost.
Deep within the Underworld, a certain mysterious, big-handed, one-eyed robot suddenly froze.
A massive, invisible weight pressed down on his mechanical chassis. Sensing the overwhelming, absolute force of Preservation locking onto his coordinates, the semi-autonomous machine boss, Svarog, immediately diverted power. His internal cooling fans whined, nearly burning out his optical components as his processors desperately tried to analyze the current, highly illogical situation.
He was being perceived by Preservation itself.
It was a cosmic irony. On this entire frozen planet, the entity possessing the purest, strongest will of Preservation was not the Supreme Guardian. It was not her righteous successor, nor the proud Silvermane Guards. It certainly was not the mysterious scythe-wielding girl or the rebellious faction of Wildfire in the Underworld. It was Svarog. Despite lacking a fully realized, organic self-will, this ancient robot had been executing the core tenets of Preservation with ruthless, unwavering logic from the very beginning.
Back on the surface, the Overworld was descending into absolute, reverent chaos.
The Express crew naturally knew that the literal Aeon floating in the atmosphere was just Rekka's daily randomized form. The rest of the planet, however, did not share this privileged information.
"They are all staring up in absolute awe..." March 7th muttered, her pink eyes wide as she scanned the plaza. "Look, even the Supreme Guardian is on her knees staring at the sky..."
She tilted her head, looking at the sky-blotting giant, completely at a loss for how to even begin complaining about this situation. How was she supposed to process the fact that her junior Express member had a legitimate chance of waking up as a literal Aeon every single morning?
"He was just saying yesterday that he hoped he wouldn't roll Nihility," Welt remarked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "At least he didn't manifest as a destructive Path. This is a highly favorable outcome."
"And today, he is a literal god," Stelle chimed in, leaning casually on her baseball bat, completely unfazed by the divine manifestation above. "You have to admit, it is just super cool, right?"
Beneath the overwhelming, suffocating presence of the Preservation's divine body, the insidious, maddening whispers of the Stellaron that usually plagued the city were completely crushed into absolute silence.
Rekka's massive, rocky chassis shifted. That vast, featureless expanse of a face tilted downward, locking onto the central plaza of Belobog.
"Go... seal... the... Stel...la...ron..."
The sluggish, drawn-out voice echoed across the frozen heavens. Down in the plaza, that highly specific, utterly familiar tone struck Cocolia like a physical blow to the chest. Her breath hitched. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
This voice. This voice.
That outsider? The infuriating, disrespectful brat who had nearly given her a brain aneurysm with his chaotic nonsense just yesterday?
No. No, no, no. This had to be sacrilege. Her mind violently rejected the concept. How could Qlipoth, the Amber Lord, the supreme deity of her people...
"Stop... daw...dling... hur...ry... up... and... seal... the... Stel...la...ron..."
Cocolia's elegant, haughty expression shattered into a mask of pure, unadulterated horror.
That tone. That exact phrasing. That bizarre, nagging sense of urgency!
'Let us go seal the Stellaron.''When are we going to seal the Stellaron?'
Her pale lips trembled. An utterly absurd, reality-breaking conclusion detonated within her mind. The chaotic outsider who had nearly induced a stress-related heart attack in her yesterday... was the literal manifestation of Preservation currently floating in the sky?!
No. That could not be right. She clawed for a rational explanation. Could it be that the Amber Lord had taken on the mortal guise of that infuriating young man yesterday as a divine test of her faith?!
Regardless of which terrifying scenario was true, Cocolia felt her entire worldview fracture, splinter, and collapse into irreparable dust. Her brain short-circuited. A faint, broken sound escaped her throat.
Whatever. What could I possibly do to oppose a literal Aeon?
Cocolia simply gave up thinking. She let it go.
A few streets over, March 7th stared up at the sky with a completely new, deeply exasperated expression. "Is he... is he literally rushing the local government to do their job?"
"The rushing appears to be highly successful." Stelle nodded in solemn approval. She raised her bat, pointing toward the frantic mobilization of the Silvermane Guards in the distance. "Look at them go. They are practically sprinting."
High above the atmosphere, Rekka had absolutely no idea what his Express companions were laughing about. Today, his mind was wonderfully simple. Today, Rekka only knew two things: building massive cosmic walls, and using his giant hammer to bonk the heads of anyone who tried to stop him from building those walls.
'Children, I only have two hands left. Can I still play as Qlipoth?' he mused internally, entirely ignoring the fact that Qlipoth only ever had two hands to begin with.
Down in the military staging grounds, chaos reigned.
"Are all the heavy weapons prepped?! What about the thermal supplies?!" a captain roared over the din of marching boots.
"Forget the thermal supplies! The literal Aeon is watching us from the sky! Move your asses!"
Gepard stood at the absolute vanguard of the Silvermane Guards. A highly complex, deeply subtle expression—one rarely seen on his usually stoic, disciplined face—flickered across his features. He stared up at the golden giant blotting out the sun, then slowly lowered his gaze to the massive, reinforced guitar case resting in his hands. He fell into a deep, existential silence.
The Aeon of Preservation. Personally micromanaging and rushing their military deployment.
Such a concept was so utterly absurd that he had never even hallucinated it, let alone expected to witness it in his lifetime.
"Captain Gepard, sir... where exactly are we deploying to?" a nervous lieutenant asked, gripping his halberd tightly.
"To seal the Stellaron." Gepard's voice rang out, steady and unwavering. "It is a direct divine mandate handed down by the Amber Lord."
The lieutenant blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. "Captain... what exactly is a Stellaron?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
Gepard's expression grew even more complicated.
He truly did not know. The vast, overwhelming majority of Belobog's citizens had never even heard the word. Gepard's entire working knowledge of a 'Stellaron' consisted entirely of a few vague technical terms thrown around by Rekka and the Express crew during their chaotic conversation yesterday.
"Cease the idle chatter and maintain your formations!" Gepard barked, spinning on his heel to face the troops. "March!"
Back in the command center, Bronya sprinted through the heavy double doors, her silver hair clinging to her forehead with sweat. "Mother!" The young Silvermane Guard commander gasped for breath. "Gepard has already mobilized the vanguard! They are heading directly into the depths of the Fragmentum Rift. Do we need to deploy immediate reinforcements?"
"Send them." Cocolia rose from her seat. Her voice was uncharacteristically raspy, scraped raw by shock, yet her tone carried a terrifying, absolute resolution. "Deploy every single Silvermane Guard capable of holding a weapon. Notify all logistical departments to provide unconditional support for this operation. And..." She paused, a complicated shadow crossing her eyes. "...ensure those outsiders accompany the vanguard."
Bronya froze, stunned by the sudden, massive shift in military policy. But a second later, she delivered a crisp salute and nodded heavily.
For seven long, agonizing centuries, the people of Belobog had prayed to Qlipoth. They had begged for His protection, pleaded for His gaze to fall upon their freezing world. And yet, the Aeon had never seemingly responded.
Of course, that was merely their flawed, mortal perspective.
Did they truly understand the significance of their city's survival? The massive, roaring furnaces and heating equipment in the Administrative District were practically decorative metalwork. Over ninety percent of the actual thermal energy keeping Belobog from freezing solid emanated directly from the lingering power of the Path of Preservation. It was a classic case of Qlipoth silently carrying the entire team without saying a word in the chat, only for the mortals to mistakenly assume He had gone AFK.
The grand, armored procession of the Silvermane Guards marched out through the heavy steel gates of the Administrative District, advancing fearlessly toward the encroaching Fragmentum Rift.
The Astral Express crew strolled casually in the middle of the heavily armed formation, occasionally tilting their heads back to admire the giant, wall-building figure dominating the stratosphere.
BOOM.
The celestial hammer descended once more, the shockwave physically shattering a massive cluster of monsters in the distance, violently clearing a safe path for the marching army.
Amidst the marching ranks, the person sporting the most deeply conflicted expression was undoubtedly Delta. She stared at the sky, her pink tail twitching erratically. Just yesterday, Rekka had been a fragile, squishy scholar who looked like he would snap in a stiff breeze. Today, he had casually transformed into a planetary-scale rock god...
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