The black square mirror that had hung over Belobog's sky was gone.
Stelle, March 7th, and Dan Heng walked down the steps in front of the Everwinter Hill fortress. From the distance came a swelling roar of voices—people packed into the streets, their faces a chaotic mix of confusion, fear, and disbelief.
They were all talking at once, each trying to retell the bizarre, dreamlike visions they'd just lived through.
"I swear I went back to when I was a kid… my mom was still alive…"
"It was terrifying—nothing but ice—I froze to death!"
"I saw Belobog in spring… flowers everywhere…"
Just as the three blended into the noisy crowd, a sharp, furious argument tore through the din like a knife, instantly drawing their attention.
"Gepard! Move! Today I am making Cocolia explain herself!"
The voice carried years of bottled rage—pressure cooked into a final, desperate resolve.
They looked over and saw a woman with blond hair streaked in blue, dressed in rebellious rock-and-roll style, confronting a young officer in gleaming silver armor. It was Serval—and her younger brother, Gepard, the Silvermane Guards captain.
"Sis, this is the fortress! You can't just barge in!"
Gepard's voice was steady and forceful, duty set into his young face like carved stone. He didn't yield an inch—but behind the rigid discipline, there was a flicker of worry and concern.
The moment Serval appeared, he'd already signaled a soldier to rush inside and report to the Supreme Guardian.
Now that same soldier jogged back, leaned in, and whispered to Gepard.
Gepard's tightly braced shoulders loosened—just a fraction.
He stepped aside and let the way open, his gaze complicated as he looked at Serval.
"The Supreme Guardian will see you. Sister… please stay calm."
Serval gave a cold snort, said nothing, and shoved past him like a storm wrapped in thunder, charging through the heavy doors of the fortress.
She brushed past the trio at the entrance, the wind of her passing carrying the scent of machine oil, alcohol, and the kind of reckless determination that only comes when you've already decided you're done being afraid.
March 7th stuck out her tongue. "Whoa. That lady's aura is intense. So cool!"
Stelle nodded. "Yeah. She's out for blood."
Dan Heng watched Serval's back vanish into the fortress, thoughtful.
The three continued forward until they reached Gepard, who was exhaling in relief and adjusting his arm guard.
"Looks like the Guards have had a rough time with all this chaos," Stelle said gently.
Gepard snapped to attention, fist striking his breastplate with a crisp clang. "Duty calls!"
Then he added, "I've received new orders from the Supreme Guardian. You are no longer restricted in Belobog. If you'll excuse me—"
He saluted and turned to leave with his men.
"Hey, hey, hey—wait!" March 7th darted in front of him, arms spread wide to block his path, grinning brightly. "Don't rush off! You're a local. We finally got released from 'parole,' so aren't you gonna recommend something fun?"
She blinked her big eyes at him, pure expectation.
Stelle leaned in too, nodding hard. "Yeah! We wanna see the sights too—"
She nearly said it in March's exact tone again and caught herself mid-sentence.
Dan Heng gave Gepard an apologetic look.
Gepard sighed, resigned. After a moment's thought, he rattled off a few places, concise as always.
"The Preservation statue in the central plaza. The Everwinter Monument. The History Museum. The Mechanical Workshop…" His gaze sharpened. "The streets by Goethe Hotel are not advised right now. Sorry—duty. I can't accompany you."
"Got it, got it! Thanks!" March stepped aside, satisfied.
Gepard's mouth twitched, but he saluted again and strode away quickly.
Watching him go, March's mind looped back to the weirdness from earlier.
She crossed her arms and frowned. "By the way… when we were in the fortress, did you two feel something off at first? Supreme Guardian Cocolia—she didn't seem focused on us at all. And… I swear I felt like someone was watching us from the shadows. It gave me chills."
Stelle's eyes widened and she nodded fast. "Yes! Same! From the moment we met her—it felt like there was someone else right there, but I couldn't see them!"
Dan Heng's expression turned grave. "I didn't detect anything unusual. But if both of you felt it…"
He paused, thinking carefully.
"It's unlikely to be coincidence. The Supreme Guardian may indeed be hiding something. Stay alert. Be ready for sudden developments. Plan an exit route."
"Wait, wait! I'm not done!" March waved frantically, cutting off his tactical spiral. "That was only when we first went in. Then we all got dragged into that weird dream, right? After we came back out and saw Cocolia again, that creepy 'being watched' feeling—totally vanished!"
Stelle lit up. "Right! Exactly!"
She said it. She actually said it.
March instantly planted her hands on her hips, cheeks puffed. "Hey! Stelle! Stop copying me!"
Stelle stuck out her tongue. The two immediately started bickering.
Dan Heng watched them, but the worry in his eyes didn't fully fade.
The illusion disappeared… and so did the sense of surveillance.
Coincidence—or cause and effect?
And whoever that "third party" was… where did they go?
Inside the fortress's thick stone walls, the atmosphere was nothing like the lively streets outside.
Serval shoved open the ornate doors to the Supreme Guardian's office with nearly all the strength in her body.
Years of anger, betrayal, and pain churned in her chest, scorching her throat.
She'd come ready—ready to demand answers, ready to tear into Cocolia with every sharpened accusation she'd honed over the years, ready even to face soldiers' cold spears if that was the price.
But the moment she stormed in and locked eyes on the familiar figure standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, all the words she'd prepared froze on her tongue—as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.
"Coco… lia?"
Serval's voice trembled with disbelief.
The figure by the window slowly turned.
Sunlight poured through the glass, outlining Cocolia Rand's severe profile—except now, oddly, it looked… softer.
But Serval's gaze wasn't on her face.
It was locked on her hand.
That hand that had once fixed machines with her. Sketched blueprints beside her. Held tools and childhood toys alike.
Cocolia's right hand—bare, ungloved—was partially covered in a layer of deep-blue ice.
It wasn't frost clinging to the surface.
It looked like the ice had grown out of her skin and flesh—like an invasive living thing—spreading along vein-like patterns in jagged, cruel lines.
The blaze of Serval's rage died instantly.
Her voice caught in her throat, and all she managed was three shaky words.
"Your hand…"
Cocolia followed her gaze to her own arm. Confusion flickered—then recognition, and a bitter sort of self-mockery.
She let out a dry laugh. "Heh… I've lived with it so long, I forgot it was even there."
Then—power erupted from her like a tidal wave.
The air warped. The temperature surged.
A heavy, mountain-like radiance of gold flooded the room—Preservation's power, warm and unyielding, carrying the will to protect like bedrock.
The golden light slammed into her right arm.
Ice crystals hissed as they melted.
The deep-blue ice on her skin evaporated and shattered like snow under a blazing sun. The invasive, vein-like traces beneath her skin twisted in unwilling resistance—then were forced back, suppressed, driven away by the gold.
In only a few breaths, her hand returned to something normal—pale, yes, but human again—only the faintest thread of cold mist lingering at the fingertips.
Driving off the ice seemed to crack something else as well—some invisible, crushing weight.
The last fragments of the Supreme Guardian's cold mask broke apart.
Cocolia stepped around the massive desk. Her pace wasn't fast, but it was unwavering.
She wasn't the ruler on a throne anymore.
She was just a woman walking toward someone she'd once called friend.
Before Serval could process what she was seeing, Cocolia reached her, said nothing, and wrapped her arms around Serval—hugging her with startling strength.
A hug that crossed years. That pushed straight through political walls and frozen pride.
It carried guilt, relief… and a bond that had never truly died.
Serval went rigid.
Cocolia's familiar scent hit her, and the anger she'd carried for so long—every grievance, every accusation—fractured like thin ice in sunlight, silently dissolving.
Her stiff shoulders sagged. As if her strength had drained away.
Slowly, hesitantly, shaking—Serval raised her arms and hugged back.
Hard.
As though she could press Cocolia into her bones and make sure she was real.
In that moment, words meant nothing.
Deep inside Belobog's cold fortress, there were only two women—once inseparable, then torn apart by fate—holding on like they'd been waiting years to breathe again.
At last, they pulled apart.
Serval's eyes were red. The fire was gone, replaced by worry and a desperate need to understand.
Cocolia led her to the sitting area and poured her a cup of hot tea with her own hands. The steam curled upward, blurring the last of the distance between them.
A conversation that had been delayed far too long finally began.
No more Supreme Guardian. No more throne.
Cocolia leaned back on the sofa, defenses lowered, and spoke secrets she'd never dared give anyone—like peeling open an old wound and letting it bleed.
"Since I was very small… that voice has always been in my ear. The Stellaron's whispers—like the most poisonous curse, finding every crack…"
"It told me the truth of the eternal winter. It told me Preservation was powerless. It told me only by embracing destruction could I 'save' Belobog… The concealment and sacrifices of past Guardians became 'stupidity' in my eyes…"
"It corroded my will. It magnified my fear and obsession… and I believed it. For some 'greater survival'…"
"…I had to push you away, Serval. The closer you are to the Stellaron, the easier it is for it to seize your heart. When I saw that fervor in your eyes… it was like looking into a mirror."
Her voice roughened.
"I was afraid. Afraid you'd become the next sacrifice. And even more afraid… that you'd realize I was already sinking deeper and deeper into the mud."
Cocolia looked at Serval openly, exhaustion and guilt heavy in her eyes.
Serval listened in silence.
Her fists clenched and unclenched on her knees, trembling. Any anger left had already been burned away by that hug—what remained was aching pain, and something like grief.
So all these years, Cocolia hadn't been sitting above everyone in cold indifference.
She'd been fighting alone—against the Stellaron's seduction, against the pressure of a dying world—waging a war that was both desperate and utterly isolating.
"…So that mirror… it really helped you?" Serval asked softly, interrupting.
That was what mattered most.
Cocolia nodded, and for the first time, the hint of a smile reached her lips.
She held out both hands for Serval to see—long, strong fingers, clean skin, no trace of ice.
"Yes. It gave me… a force. Or a perspective. Something that let me see the truth of the corruption inside me—and break free of it. My Preservation power also pushed past its bottleneck."
She curled her fingers into a fist, and a faint golden shimmer flowed between them.
"'Pushed past'… temporarily?" Serval caught the word instantly, her expression tightening. "You still can't destroy it, can you?"
Cocolia's smile became a bitter one.
"Destroy it? Serval… you overestimate me. That Stellaron has been the source of seven hundred years of winter."
Her eyes dimmed.
"My strength is nowhere near enough."
"Then what are you going to do?" Serval leaned forward, urgent.
"On your way in, you saw three young people dressed strangely, didn't you?" Cocolia shifted the topic.
Serval frowned, recalling. "…Those three weirdly dressed kids?"
Cocolia's gaze flicked—briefly, very briefly—to Serval's own punk-styled work cloak and gear.
Serval noticed, flushed slightly, and lifted her chin stubbornly. "At least mine is practical!"
A tiny spark of amusement softened Cocolia's eyes.
"It's them. They aren't ordinary people. They're Nameless—travelers who ride the Astral Express across the stars."
To be continued.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 138)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter160)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter98)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter175)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 163
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 150
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 100
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 170
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 145
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 125
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 69
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 90
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 100
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 70
Uma Musume: I Want All 90
I Can Copy Unique Skills 65
Summoning an Evil God, but the 52
Supernatural Multiverse 65
My Harem Is Indescribable 55
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 55
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 66
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 55
Still playing traditional Honk 35
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 35
What Should I Do After Switchi 24
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 35
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 27
Transmigrated as Sukuna 27
Checking In in Demon Slayer 32
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