The transition from the lost centuries of the Cosmic Odyssey to the rigid boundary of the 3000 Milestone felt like a violent deceleration. By anchoring his remaining presence directly to Season 6, Haoran had effectively skipped over the vast, empty midsection of his own history. He was now a being existing only at the extreme poles of his timeline: a forgotten beginning and a highly concentrated, looming end.
The Twin Primordials, sensing the sudden structural wall of the milestone, immediately began to chew through the connection.
Inside the Womb-Gate Horizon, the high-concept domains of Vantablack and pulsar light that had defined their recent conquests began to warp. The twins were no longer just siphoning Haoran's historical strength; they were pulling the literal Style Shift of Phase 2 into the womb. The abstract logic that allowed reality to be anchored by sheer presence rather than physical battle was being drained directly into their fetal consciousness.
Yuxiao's form, already running thin on absolute silver and obsidian, began to flicker in sync with the high-concept environment. Her silhouette would alternate between a brilliant, blinding pulsar gold and a completely flat, non-reflective black. "The language of the world is changing," she whispered, her hands pressing against the rhythmic, heavy thumping of the twins' heartbeats. "They are learning how to speak in concepts before they have even spoken a word."
Haoran, now reduced to a transparent outline stitched directly into Yuxiao's perimeter, felt the weight of Season 6 begins to fray. The certain countdown toward Chapter 5000—the very momentum keeping him anchored to the present—was being siphoned to give the children their definitive shape as ultimate, supreme forces.
Because he could no longer speak, use mass, or rely on his past, Haoran did the only thing a silhouette could do: he tightened his grip. He allowed the twins to drain the high-concept logic through him, acting as a filtering grid so the raw, unadulterated power of the 3000 Milestone wouldn't shatter Yuxiao's remaining physical logic.
He became a literal bridge of burning, unformatted white light, enduring the agonizing sensation of his remaining style and grandeur being stripped away until he was nothing but a bare, functional boundary line.
Inside the womb, the Iron Prince and the Starlight Princess locked in their new conceptual architecture, their presence growing so immense that the bleached void around them began to crack under their weight. The countdown script, etched into the fading fabric of reality, clicked downward: 451 chapters remain.