Chapter 220: What do you call Cocolia, who once raged against Preservation, becoming an Emanator of Preservation?
Space outside Jarilo-VI, Herta Space Station.
Lead Researcher Asta stood frozen before the panoramic observation deck, her delicate fingers hovering over a suspended holographic datapad. Outside the reinforced viewport, a dazzling, impossibly thick stream of amber light violently cleaved through the starry expanse. The sheer radiance painted her pale face in hues of molten gold, leaving her utterly dazed.
"Madam Herta," Asta murmured, her voice barely a whisper against the hum of the station's life support. "This is..."
"It is the gaze of Preservation."
Herta stood beside her, arms crossed over her chest. The genius puppet tilted her head, her porcelain joints clicking softly. "It's just that... this time, it is exceptionally ostentatious."
Historically, the gaze of an Aeon was a fleeting, ephemeral thing—a cosmic ripple so subtle that ordinary mortals lived and died without ever noticing it. Back when Stelle had briefly drawn the attention of Nanook the Destruction, the event had been entirely contained. Had Stelle not mentioned it herself, the rest of the universe would have remained blissfully ignorant.
But this? This was different.
The gaze of Preservation currently bathing the cosmos was so unapologetically high-profile it felt less like a blessing and more like a galactic broadcast. It was blinding, heavy, and completely unbelievable.
Asta swallowed hard. She suddenly remembered a casual, utterly ridiculous comment Leon had made a while back about the Aeons "holding a team-building event on the Luofu." At the time, she had brushed it off as one of his trademark exaggerated jokes.
That was, until Aha the Elation had personally confirmed it.
So... what exactly are these Aeons doing out there? Asta thought, her mind racing with a million questions. I really want to know. I need to understand—
Beside the primary Herta, a miniature backup puppet was pacing frantically back and forth. It chewed aggressively on the corner of its own dress, its large, synthetic eyes practically screaming: 'I'm so curious! I really want to know!'
Stellaron Hunters Temporary Base.
"Elio, was this absurd light show also in your grand prophecy?" Silver Wolf complained. She didn't even bother lifting her head from her handheld console, her thumbs flying across the buttons in a blur of practiced motion as she blew a massive bubblegum bubble.
"No... it was not," Elio's calm, measured voice echoed from the shadows of the room. "But this Path is now the best possible future."
Astral Express, Parlor Car.
Himeko stood by the arched windows, a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee resting in her hands. She watched the brilliant, warm light of Preservation rising steadily from the distant coordinates of the Xianzhou Luofu, a single, elegant eyebrow arching upward.
She, too, had originally taken the rumor of five Aeons "team-building" on the Luofu as a casual, nonsensical joke spun by Stelle and Caelus to pass the time.
Now, watching the cosmos light up like a flare, it seemed... it might actually be terrifyingly true.
"So, that absolute menace of a Trailblazer... is really over there on the Luofu?"
Pom-Pom stomped their furry foot against the carpeted floor, their long ears drooping in sheer distress. Just thinking about that "most terrible Trailblazer" made the conductor's fur stand on end. Pom-Pom felt a deep, sinking certainty that the Astral Express was about to suffer some form of catastrophic misfortune again.
They had a terrible, ominous feeling in their gut. Surely that guy wouldn't come back to the Express to cause trouble again, right? Right?!
Such a public, overwhelming gaze from Qlipoth, the Aeon of Preservation, was a model-shifting event for the entire cosmos. Never in recorded history had anyone received such undisguised, heavy-handed support from an Aeon.
Logically speaking, the Interstellar Peace Corporation should have been throwing a galaxy-wide festival at this exact moment, weeping tears of absolute joy.
However, the reality was entirely different.
Interstellar Peace Corporation · High-Level Conference Room.
The massive, circular boardroom was suffocatingly silent. The air felt as heavy as cast iron. The highest-ranking executives of the IPC sat frozen in their luxurious chairs, their eyes glued to the real-time transmitted footage floating above the central table.
Because... the Amber Lord's gaze had lasted only a fraction of a second in the void of space.
His massive, cosmic attention had pierced straight through the atmospheric layers of Jarilo-VI, bypassed all defensive grids, and landed directly inside the Supreme Guardian's office within Qlipoth Fort.
High above the mortal plane, a vague, ancient consciousness rumbled.
Hmm... there are so many people inside this tiny room. Who should I gaze upon?
How troublesome... The Amber Lord metaphorically scratched His crystalline head and opted for the absolute simplest method available.
His heavy gaze swept over the four figures present: Bronya, Cocolia, Pela, and Seele.
All four of them carried the lingering, chaotic traces of having interacted with Leon. But the scent clinging to Cocolia was by far the thickest and most distinct.
Then... let's go with this one.
Without a second thought, the pure, unadulterated Path Power of Preservation surged into the four individuals like a tidal wave of golden amber.
Bronya gasped, her eyes widening.
Seele staggered back, gripping her scythe as warmth flooded her veins.
And Cocolia...
...Huh? I get some too?
Cocolia stood completely paralyzed, her breath catching in her throat. During her entire tenure as the Supreme Guardian, she had begged, pleaded, and prayed to Preservation, only to be met with deafening silence—a silence that had eventually driven her to abandon her faith entirely and embrace the Stellaron.
Now, long after she had actively stripped herself of the title of a Pathstrider of Preservation, she had unexpectedly been hit with the Aeon's ultimate blessing?
also, this power coursing through her veins was thousands of times denser, purer, and stronger than anything she had ever possessed in her life.
Across the cosmos, a mental link crackled to life.
Leon: Good heavens, Qlipoth, did you just promote Cocolia directly to an Emanator?
Qlipoth: Saves trouble. Once and for all.
Leon: Why her of all people?!
Qlipoth: Your scent is strongest on her.
Hearing Qlipoth's blunt, deadpan reasoning, Leon completely lost control of his facial expressions, bursting into a fit of coughing.
Cocolia—the woman who had once fiercely, publicly, and violently criticized Preservation—had just been crowned an Emanator of Preservation. It was, without a doubt, the funniest, most ironic joke ever told in the history of the universe.
Somewhere in the void, Aha the Elation was absolutely losing their mind.
Aha: HAHAHAHAHA!! This is truly hilarious! Blockhead, you actually have quite the hidden talent for Elation!
Fuli: [Light Cone Recording Created: "Cocolia: I became an Emanator of Preservation?"]
Back on Jarilo-VI, Qlipoth's massive phantom hung high in the freezing skies, casting a warm, golden glow over the snowscapes. The blessings bestowed upon the four women were so dense they were practically visible to the naked eye. Anyone with even a shred of cosmic sensitivity could witness the miracle.
And for those who couldn't sense it... Leverett's real-time recording and live broadcast equipment captured every single frame. Not only was the footage sent straight back to the IPC headquarters, but Aha had also gleefully intercepted the signal and forwarded it directly to His own personal cosmic account for maximum humiliation.
"Seriously... isn't this just blatant cheating?"
Topaz stood in the snow outside Qlipoth Fort, looking up at the golden sky. She hugged Numby tightly to her chest, completely unable to maintain her usual professional composure.
She could feel the energy signatures perfectly. While the blessings Pela and Seele received were substantial, they weren't quite at her level. Bronya's, however, was nearly on par with her own.
But Cocolia... the sheer density of the Preservation power radiating from the former Guardian actually reminded Topaz of Supervisor Diamond himself.
Thinking back to how Cocolia had literally gone online to publicly flame and criticize Preservation, Topaz found the entire situation utterly, brain-meltingly ridiculous.
Amber Lord! What in the cosmos are You doing?!
If Topaz was struggling to process the absurdity, Leverett—the man who had literally just ordered Cocolia's arrest mere moments ago—looked as though he had swallowed a live grenade. His facial features were twisted into a horrifying grimace.
Seriously—Amber Lord! What kind of sick game are You playing?!
Leverett's beautiful, glittering dream of a massive promotion and a hefty raise shattered into a million irreparable pieces under the weight of that golden gaze.
If Leverett found the situation unbearable, the executives sitting in the IPC's High-Level Conference Room found it infinitely worse.
Oswaldo Schneider, the Supervisor of the Market Development Department, sat at the table with a face as black as the bottom of a scorched iron pot. His jaw was locked so tight his teeth audibly ground together. He knew, with absolute certainty, that his hostile takeover scheme had just failed spectacularly.
Directly across from him, Supervisor Diamond of the Strategic Investment Department sat with his hands folded neatly on the table. Outwardly, he remained perfectly calm, but an almost imperceptible, razor-sharp smile flashed across his eyes.
However, the cosmic intervention was not quite finished.
After securing Cocolia and the others, the Amber Lord slowly turned His massive, conceptual gaze away from Jarilo-VI and aimed it directly at the Interstellar Peace Corporation headquarters—specifically, locking onto the exact coordinates of the High-Level Conference Room.
Then, the Aeon let out a single, reverberating cold snort.
BOOM.
The soundless impact hit the room like a kinetic strike. Oswaldo Schneider jerked violently in his seat as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer. He suddenly lurched forward, spitting out a thick mouthful of blood onto the polished table, his imposing aura rapidly collapsing into weakness.
The conference room instantly plunged into a dead, terrifying silence.
This was the Amber Lord's first direct, personal response to the board in eras... and it was a brutally clear warning. Schneider had borne the absolute brunt of it, receiving divine punishment right in front of his peers.
With this single action, every high-ranking official in the IPC knew exactly which side of the political divide they needed to stand on. Those who had already aligned themselves with Diamond felt a surge of overwhelming relief and joy, while the executives who had secretly leaned toward Schneider felt their stomachs drop into an abyss of dread.
Slowly, Schneider raised a trembling hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Forgive my bluntness, but is there a more enlightened Chairman than Qlipoth in this universe? He tacitly approves all our business decisions, never questions, never interferes—this is an immense honor, an immense trust!"
Those were the exact, pompous words Schneider himself had spoken during a previous gala. Unexpectedly, they had now swung back around to strike him in the face like a spiked boomerang.
It was true; Qlipoth had never interfered before. But today, the warning had been delivered with bone-crushing clarity.
Every executive in the room sat rigid with fear, their eyes darting nervously, dreading that the next invisible hammer strike might fall upon them.
High above, Qlipoth's phantom slowly dissipated into golden dust, and the cosmos returned to its usual, cold calm.
"Then, I propose—" Madam Scarred Eye of the Business Consolidation Department was the first to slice through the heavy silence, her voice sharp and authoritative. "—that Oswaldo Schneider be officially demoted from P47 to P46, and Topaz be promoted from P44 to P46."
She surveyed the terrified room, her gaze daring anyone to speak up. "Who seconds the motion? Who opposes?"
"Seconded," a voice chimed in immediately.
"Seconded."
"I concur."
"...I second it too."
At the end of the table, Schneider wiped the last streak of blood from his chin and, shockingly, grinned. His teeth were stained red.
The Amber Lord had merely made an example of him with a minor physical punishment, without inflicting any further, permanent penalty. What did this mean to a man like him?
It meant he still had a chance.
He would return.
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