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Svarog had departed.
And, naturally, he took Clara with him. The massive Svarog-replica he'd left behind to "deter" the group had been reduced to a heap of glowing slag by a single, bored flick of Kenta's black flames.
Kenta had every reason to suspect the old robot was feeling anxious, but with that unchanging visor and a voice like a grinding tectonic plate, it was impossible to tell.
"Ugh, that walking scrap heap," Kenta grumbled, dusting off his sleeves. He turned to the Express crew, who were still processing the tactical masterclass he'd just delivered. "Look, it's fine. At least we confirmed Svarog is holding the keys to the Stellaron mystery. Let's find Oleg and regroup."
March and the others nodded, but before they could take a step, a gravelly voice echoed from the mine shaft behind them.
"No need to look far, friends."
Oleg emerged from the shadows, followed by a squad of Wildfire members. They looked ragged; their armor was scorched and their breathing heavy.
"We walked right into a pincer move by those bots," Oleg laughed, the sound hearty despite the soot on his face. "I thought we were in for a long night. Hahaha!"
His carefree nature was infectious, but his gaze sharpened when he saw the Trailblazers and the silver-clad girl standing beside Kenta. "And these people are?"
Seele quickly brought him up to speed on the "Outworlders" and their mission.
"So, you're the Big Boss," March said, planting her hands on her hips. "Finally decided to make a grand appearance, huh?"
Oleg roared with laughter. "I'll remember that one! Arrogant on the first meeting—I like your spirit, kid."
March 7th, however, was in no mood for pleasantries. She leaned in, her face dark with frustration. "Can we stop the 'getting-to-know-you' phase and get to the point?"
She spent the next few minutes detailing their hunt for the Stellaron. Oleg listened, his hand stroking his chin in thought.
"The Stellaron..." he murmured. "I've never heard the name. But if it's a secret that even the Underworld's finest haven't sniffed out, there's only one person who'd have the answers."
"The Supreme Guardian?" March guessed.
At the mention of Cocolia, Oleg's expression curdled. "That woman is a liar. She sold the Underworld a dream of 'Preservation' while leaving us to rot in the dark. She doesn't care if we freeze to death as long as her palace stays warm."
Bronya's posture turned to steel. "Enough. I will not stand by while you insult the Supreme Guardian. Retract your words."
"I'm just speaking the truth, girl!"
The two launched into a fierce verbal sparring match—a clash of elite indoctrination versus lived subterranean trauma. It ended in a stalemate, with both parties looking equally incensed.
"Sigh, Bronya... you really are a piece of work," Kenta whispered to himself. He stepped between them, hands raised. "Alright, save the politics for a debate club. Oleg, you were saying? If not Cocolia, then who?"
Oleg took a breath, calming himself. "The person I was thinking of... is Svarog."
The group went silent.
"Svarog again," Dan Heng said, his voice low. "It seems we're destined to have a very long 'talk' with the Elder."
Kenta let out a massive yawn. "Yeah, yeah, tomorrow. We've been running through mines and fighting scrap metal all day. Don't you aliens need sleep?"
Oleg nodded. "He's right. I've arranged rooms for you at the Goethe Grand. As for you, Silvermane girl..." He looked at Bronya. "Are you free? I'd like to have a word. One-on-one."
As Bronya was led away for her private "re-education" session, Kenta and the others waited. Once she returned—looking more thoughtful than before—they moved toward the town center.
"How was it?" Kenta asked Bronya as they neared the hotel entrance. "Oleg didn't try to lock you in a cage, did he?"
"No," Bronya said, shaking her head. "Our philosophies are... incompatible. But he is not the monster I was led to believe."
The Express trio was busy debating the night's logistics. "There is no way I'm taking the first watch," March 7th pouted. "Lack of sleep is a war crime against my skin."
Kenta had zero interest in their sleeping arrangements. He was ready for his own bed. "Well, this is where I leave you. Goodnight, space travelers."
He turned to leave, but his left hand was suddenly caught in a vice-like grip. A bad premonition prickled his skin. He turned to find Stelle—the "raccoon"—tugging on his sleeve, her eyes wide and shimmering with a heart-melting, pitiful light.
"Kenta... where are you going?" she asked, her voice small and bewildered.
"Don't do the puppy-dog eyes, Stelle," Kenta groaned. "I'm going home. Unlike you lot, I actually pay rent in this town."
Stelle's eyes didn't just sparkle; they ignited with a predatory enthusiasm. Her lips curled into a grin, revealing two tiny, adorable canine teeth. Her grip on his hand tightened until Kenta winced.
"Kenta! I want to stay at your house!—Ouch!"
Stelle clutched her head, spinning around to find March 7th standing behind her, hand still raised from a sharp chop to the skull. "March! Why'd you do that?"
March 7th was fuming. "Are you actually an idiot or just naturally shameless? You can't just ask a guy for a sleepover on the first day! It's rude!"
Kenta gave March 7th a silent thumbs-up. Well done, March. You're a real one.
Seele watched Natasha work, the rhythmic clinking of medicine bottles the only sound in the room.
"Natasha, do you need a hand?"
"Not yet," the doctor replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "The Great Mine mess brought in a lot of wounded, but Kenta's supplies saved us. We actually have enough morphine for once." She paused, looking at Seele curiously. "Don't you have a patrol? Why aren't you checking on Kenta and that girl from the surface?"
Seele's face went crimson. "Hmph! What those two do is none of my business!" She crossed her arms. "Besides, they've been busy all day. They're probably at the hotel by now. It's not like they'd follow him back to his house. People don't do that."
Natasha hummed, a nagging feeling in her gut. "Am I overthinking it?"
Kenta fumbled with his keys, his hands trembling slightly. His mind was a static-filled void. He looked over his shoulder one last time, hoping he'd hallucinated the last ten minutes.
Standing behind him, looking expectant and entirely unbothered, were Stelle, March 7th, Dan Heng, and Bronya.
"Why... why did things turn out this way?" Kenta whispered to the locked door.
"You said your house was safer than a hotel," Stelle said, already trying to peer through the window. "And I'm a guest. Guests get the couch!"
"I'm just here to make sure she doesn't break anything," March 7th added, though she was already checking her reflection in the dark glass of the door.
Dan Heng simply nodded. "Safety in numbers."
Bronya looked at the ground, her voice quiet. "The hotel... reminded me too much of the Overworld. I'd prefer somewhere... different."
Kenta turned the key with a heavy sigh. His "safe nest" was about to become the epicenter of a multi-dimensional disaster.
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