Chapter 68: Some Deserts on This Planet Were Once Oceans
"Did... n't... I... give... you... guys... mines?"
Rekka's voice echoed from above, the syllables stretched out into an agonizingly slow, booming drawl that vibrated through the freezing air. He stared down at Cocolia, his tone carrying the heavy, tectonic weight of a mountain shifting.
"You... guys... did... n't... use... the... mines... to... build... walls?"
Cocolia stood completely dumbfounded. The biting wind whipped her blonde hair across her face, but she barely registered the cold.
Mines?
Did he mean... Geomarrow?
Her brow furrowed in utter bewilderment. Was that not just fuel?
"Did... n't... you... guys... use... Geomarrow... to... build... structures... be... fore?"
Rekka was, of course, referring to the massive blue Geomarrow crystals that symbolized the Eternal Freeze, resting right next to the Everwinter Monument. That very same monument also housed the Weeping Stone of Glory, a relic left behind by the Sorrowful Bard—brilliant, flawless gems perfectly shaped like falling tears.
It was a rather fascinating piece of cultural symbolism. In Belobog, iron gears represented the surviving people, while raw Geomarrow represented the encroaching Eternal Freeze.
A bit dramatic, truly.
Yet, there was historical precedent. A select few among the Silvermane Guards still wore equipment forged from the material. Captain Gepard, for instance, wore a heavy pair of Geomarrow vambraces on his arms, a shining symbol of military honor and unyielding defense.
Down below, Cocolia's expression shifted through a colorful spectrum of confusion, realization, and sheer disbelief.
That was a commemorative monument! It was art, not architecture!
High above, Rekka watched her internal crisis with mild amusement. He had dragged out his words on purpose, fully intending to mess with her head.
"Us... ing... it... for... burn... ing... is... fine... too," Rekka finally conceded, his slow words allowing the tense citizens of Belobog to release a collective, shuddering breath.
"But... why... not... use... it... to... build... walls... first... Architects?"
Cocolia froze.
Architects.
The title struck her like a physical blow. They were the Architects. The devoted followers who walked the Path of Qlipoth, the Aeon of Preservation. Their entire cosmic purpose was to construct towering, impenetrable walls to shield civilization. Yet, for generations, the people of Belobog had exclusively shoveled Geomarrow into roaring furnaces. Not once had they considered using the incredibly dense, energy-rich mineral to actually reinforce their crumbling city walls—not since the absolute earliest, long-forgotten eras of their history.
Then again, who in their right mind would look at highly combustible fuel and think of it as a building material?
Her jaw tightened. The absurdity of their lost history washed over her, followed immediately by a fierce, sudden clarity. She made her decision.
"Stop transporting all newly mined Geomarrow to the fuel depots," Cocolia commanded, her voice slicing through the howling wind with absolute authority. "Divert every single shipment to the front lines. Mobilize the engineering corps immediately. We are going to rebuild the outer city walls."
The herald standing beside her gaped, his eyes wide with panic.
"Madame Guardian, but... if we cut off the fuel supply, the city's central heating grid will collapse within three days!"
"Look up," Cocolia said coldly. "The entity in the sky is currently building a planetary barrier for us. Central heating is no longer our primary concern."
In truth, it was a deeply guarded, almost cosmic joke that aside from the ancient robot Svarog down in the Underworld, absolutely no one realized Belobog's central heating system was entirely useless. The massive furnaces and pipes the city's maintenance workers painstakingly repaired every single year were little more than giant metal decorations. They provided a psychological warmth, a symbolic comfort against the snow, rather than any actual thermal output.
Even the grease-stained mechanics turning the wrenches had no idea they were maintaining a placebo.
"Mother, the engineering corps has finished assembling." Bronya stepped up from the rear, her boots crunching softly in the snow as she looked at her mother's rigid back. "The lockdown gates leading to the Underworld have been partially opened. We are transporting raw Geomarrow ore directly to the designated wall reinforcement points. The reserves from the fuel depots have also been fully mobilized."
Bronya hesitated, her gloved hands clenching at her sides. "Mother, if the citizens discover that the fuel supply has been completely halted, it will spark a massive panic."
Cocolia turned around slowly. The harsh lines of her face had softened, replaced by a strange, quiet resolve.
"There will be no panic, Bronya." Cocolia walked toward the heavy oak desk set up in the command tent. "They only need to tilt their heads upward to see the Aeon of Preservation constructing a shield over their homes. In the face of such a divine sight, the cold is nothing but an afterthought."
"But, that... existence in the sky," Bronya stammered, her eyes darting upward. "Is it really..."
"Go carry out your orders," Cocolia interrupted, her tone leaving no room for debate. "Mobilize all remaining reserves to support Captain Gepard's defensive line. And what of those outsiders?"
"The outsiders have already departed for Everwinter Hill alongside Captain Gepard."
"Good." Cocolia paused, her hand resting on the edge of the desk. "Bronya, wait a moment. You will come with me."
"Mother? Where are we going?"
"Aside from the successive Supreme Guardians, no one knows the truth about the Stellaron."
Cocolia fell silent, her gaze drifting toward the snow-choked horizon. She pondered for a long, heavy moment before speaking again.
"Bring me the Supreme Guardian's lance."
Standing there in the freezing command post, a sudden, piercing realization washed over Cocolia. For centuries, generation after generation of Supreme Guardians had desperately tried to ignite the Flame Lance—the legendary weapon wielded by the first Guardian, Alisa Rand. Every single one of them had failed. The fire had died with Alisa. The weapon had been passed down as a hollow symbol, a ceremonial ritual, a dead tradition that had slowly lost all meaning.
Now, Cocolia finally understood why.
"Let us go, Bronya," Cocolia said, her voice steady and resolute. "Assemble the remaining Silvermane Guards. Tell them that Belobog no longer needs to wait for the Eternal Freeze to naturally end. We are going to end it ourselves. Once and for all."
The trek to Everwinter Hill was brutal. The cold here was not merely a temperature; it was a physical force, a crushing weight that sought to freeze the blood in their veins.
"This is the Stellaron. The true source of the Eternal Freeze."
Cocolia led the small group to the absolute peak of the hill. Behind them, the Silvermane Guards formed a tight defensive perimeter, their halberds raised, eyes scanning the swirling blizzards for any lurking Fragmentum monsters. The threat was minimal, however—the dense clusters of the Fragmentum had already been violently smashed apart by that devastating hammer blow from the sky earlier that morning.
Bronya stared at the pulsing, golden sphere hovering in the distance. Her breath hitched.
"Mother, regarding this... I knew absolutely nothing."
"Because this is a burden only the Supreme Guardian is permitted to bear," Cocolia replied, her voice barely rising above the howling wind. "The Eternal Freeze was not a natural disaster. It was actively summoned by the first Supreme Guardian to freeze the invading Antimatter Legion."
Bronya's pupils dilated instantly. The heavy, ceremonial lance in her hands suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She swayed, nearly dropping the ancient weapon into the snow.
"Bronya. Steady your breathing."
Cocolia did not look back. Her posture remained rigid, her gaze locked on the golden sphere.
"No matter how much sacrifice the truth demands, you are the future Supreme Guardian. Your shoulders must be broad enough to carry the weight of this entire city. Now is not the time for you to stand there dazed."
Bronya swallowed hard, her knuckles turning white around the shaft of the lance. "...Yes, Mother."
"Well, I don't really know how to judge all that historical stuff, but let's go seal the Stellaron first!" March 7th chimed in cheerfully, her bright voice completely shattering the heavy, dramatic tension.
Cocolia flinched. A full-body shudder ripped through her, looking suspiciously like a severe stress reaction.
Just yesterday, Rekka had acted like a brain-piercing auditory hallucination, repeating the phrase "Let's go seal the Stellaron" directly into Cocolia's ear for hours on end. Even when she had tried to close her eyes and rest, the chaotic man's voice had echoed endlessly in her skull. Hearing the exact same phrasing from the pink-haired girl nearly made her snap.
They approached the containment device holding the Stellaron. The golden sphere pulsed with a sickly, hypnotic light, radiating a low, maddening hum.
Stelle stepped forward. The heavy red greatsword gripped tightly in her hand emitted a faint, grounding warmth, completely dispelling the insidious whispers and dark temptations that tried to claw their way into her mind.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep...
The crude, boxy Stellaron radar Stelle held in her off-hand—a chaotic little gadget hastily cobbled together by Rekka—began to shriek a high-pitched alarm.
A second later, it violently exploded into a shower of sparks and black smoke.
Stelle blinked, casually tossing the smoking husk into the snow. "I heard it talking," she noted dryly, staring deadpan at the glowing golden sphere. "If it buzzed in my ear all day like that, it would indeed be very uncomfortable. Maybe one would even go completely insane after listening to it for too long."
Cocolia's body trembled violently. Her face, already pale from the wind and snow, drained of all remaining color.
She... she could hear it too.
"It promises salvation," Cocolia whispered, her voice hollow. "It promises to create a perfect, new world. As long as... as long as one simply stops resisting."
"But those are all lies." Bronya stepped forward, her boots planting firmly in the deep snow. She gripped the ancient lance tightly and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her mother. "Mother, we end this now."
Stelle reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, metallic silver cube. Rekka had tossed it to her right before he ascended and transformed into his massive Preservation form.
"I think it's used like this..." Stelle muttered, winding her arm back.
"Go, Poké Ball!"
She pitched the silver cube directly at the hovering Stellaron.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Ding.
The small silver cube suddenly expanded, its metallic walls turning completely transparent as it snapped shut, perfectly encapsulating the golden sphere inside. The chaotic, pulsing light of the Stellaron was instantly smothered. Not a single trace of Imaginary energy leaked out. The oppressive, maddening fluctuations vanished completely.
The howling, violent winds of Everwinter Hill came to an abrupt, shocking standstill.
Inside the transparent cube, the small golden sphere bumped restlessly against its new prison. But with every single touch, a complex ring of silver energy circuits flared to life, violently suppressing the core and forcing it back to the center.
Bronya exhaled a long, shaky breath. She thrust the heavy end of the lance deep into the snow and stepped forward quickly, wrapping an arm around Cocolia's shoulders to support her trembling mother.
"...Preservation above," Bronya whispered.
She took another deep breath, steadying her own racing heart, and then stood up straight.
"Bronya," Cocolia said softly, turning to look at her daughter with eyes that were finally clear of the golden fog. "I have an important matter to tell you now."
The older woman reached out, her gloved hand resting gently on Bronya's cheek.
"From today onward, you are the Supreme Guardian."
Cocolia stepped back, gesturing toward the ancient weapon planted in the snow. "Raise the Flame Lance. Let the Aeon witness your will of Preservation. Raise it, Bronya."
The young girl shook her head frantically, panic flashing in her eyes. "Mother, but... but I still..."
"No one is born knowing how to carry this burden, Bronya," Cocolia said, a rare, genuine warmth entering her voice. "My daughter. You can do it."
Bronya closed her eyes. She took a deep, grounding breath, pulling the freezing air into her lungs. She stepped forward, gripped the shaft with both hands, and exerted all her strength, pulling the heavy lance free from the snow.
She hoisted it high, the dull, blackened tip of the lance pointing straight toward the gray, overcast sky.
One second passed.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Nothing happened.
The heavy silence of the mountain stretched on. A thin layer of fresh snow drifted down, settling gently on Bronya's eyelashes. Her breath condensed into a thick white mist in the freezing air. She stood there, holding the silent, lifeless Flame Lance, looking exactly like the countless Supreme Guardians over the past few centuries who had desperately tried, and failed, to awaken its fire.
"It..." Bronya's voice cracked, her arms trembling under the weight of the dead weapon. "It still doesn't recognize me."
"..."
Standing a few paces away, Stelle stared intently at the blackened Flame Lance in Bronya's hands. A strange, inexplicable feeling stirred deep within her chest, a quiet, burning resonance that she couldn't quite put into words.
"..."
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