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Bong!
The heavy, reinforced scabbard slammed into Svarog's head with the force of a falling comet. The impact sent a violent tremor through the ancient robot's frame. For a split second, the hum of his core faltered, and his optical sensor flickered wildly.
"Warning... chassis... cranial integrity... compromised..."
Svarog's voice was a distorted, glitched mess. Seeing the opening, the rest of the crew didn't hesitate. They flooded the zone with everything they had.
"Rules are meant to be broken!" Stelle yelled, her golden eyes ablaze as she swung her galactic baseball bat in a devastating arc.
"Re-evaluating target status. Threat level: Extreme."
After a few seconds of mechanical paralysis, Svarog forced his systems to reboot. As the words left his vocal processor, two massive, floating mechanical palms materialized from the shadows of his cloak, hovering with lethal intent.
Kenta's eye twitched. "Seriously, buddy? You've got a Phase Two? This isn't an MMO!"
Seeing the palms warming up for an area-of-effect blast, Kenta lunged sideways. He snatched March 7th by the waist—clamping her like a football—and dove behind a reinforced steel pillar just as a barrage of missiles turned her previous standing spot into a crater of molten slag.
March 7th trembled violently in his grip, nearly dropping her bow. "Hey! You stinky Kenta! Put me down this instant!" She looked up at him, her face a chaotic mix of fury and a deep, spreading blush.
Kenta set her down with a huff. "If I hadn't grabbed you, you'd be a pink smear on that wall right now, okay?"
March stammered, smoothing her skirt. "But you still shouldn't just... grab a girl's waist! That's a very sensitive area, you jerk!"
"Hey! Could you two stop flirting and focus on the giant killer robot?" Seele's roar cut through the bickering. She was a purple blur of scythe strikes and quantum energy, barely keeping the giant mechanical hands occupied.
March 7th jumped, quickly drawing her bow to resume fire. Kenta sighed, his dark red eyes fixing on the staggered Svarog. "Alright, Svarog. You're the one who started playing dirty."
A cluster of crimson flames blossomed in Kenta's palm, the heat so intense the air began to shimmer. He pushed off the ground, the sound of the air breaking behind him like a whip-crack. In a heartbeat, he was inches from Svarog's damaged chest plate.
He offered a 'kind,' serene smile. "Have you eaten yet, Svarog?"
"If not... then eat this! Fire Cloud Art!"
A massive eruption of heat exploded from Kenta's palm. The shockwave sent Svarog's multi-ton frame skidding backward several meters, finally shattering the heavy mechanical armor protecting his core. Svarog collapsed onto one knee, blue electrical arcs dancing across his exposed wiring. He tried to raise an arm to retaliate, but the servos merely whined and died.
"The finisher!" Seele cried, raising her scythe for a terminal strike.
"Wait!" Kenta reached out, grabbing Seele's wrist. He shook his head slowly.
Across the battlefield, Clara had been sprinting toward the fray, her heart in her throat. Seeing Kenta stop the killing blow, she felt a wave of relief so strong it nearly knocked her over. She reached them, breathless and teary-eyed.
"Thank you, Big Brother Kenta," she whispered, before turning to the slumped robot. "Mr. Svarog, please. Don't push yourself anymore. Just tell them the truth. Please?"
"I was holding back, Svarog," Kenta added casually, crossing his arms. "Don't make me actually try."
The robot lowered his head, his processors whirring as he recalculated the entire situation. After five minutes of Clara's gentle pleading, the ancient Guardian finally yielded. He agreed to share the data—the truth of the Stellaron.
Bronya stood at the center of the group, her posture rigid with a tension that looked ready to snap. This was it. The truth of Belobog. The truth of her mother.
Svarog projected several archival recordings onto a nearby stone wall. The videos showed a high-tech lab from decades ago. From the mouths of the researchers, the ugly truth emerged: The Eternal Freeze, the Fragmentum, and the world's slow death were all symptoms of the Stellaron.
More importantly, the rulers of Belobog had known this for generations. They had kept it secret to maintain order, all while fruitlessly searching for a way to destroy it.
"So, Cocolia knew everything," Kenta summarized, his gaze shifting to Bronya. "And yet she tried to arrest the only people capable of actually sealing the thing. Why?"
The confident, iron-willed Commander was gone. Bronya's lips trembled; her silver eyes were clouded with unshed tears. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll caught in a tremor.
Kenta walked up to her and firmly took her hand. "It's alright, Bronya. I'm here."
The touch broke her. Ignoring the Trailblazers and the Wildfire rebels, Bronya collapsed into Kenta's arms, sobbing into his cloak.
"Mother... why...?" she choked out. "She told me the Guardian must be a star to illuminate the path. A hearth to warm the heart. Was my whole life built on a lie?"
Kenta wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while the others turned away to give them a modicum of privacy. Eventually, the emotional exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep in his embrace.
Kenta signaled Seele to help him support her.
"Honestly, why am I the babysitter for the Overworld Princess?" Seele grumbled, but she took Bronya's hand with surprising gentleness.
Kenta walked over to Svarog, where Natasha—now revealed as the true leader of Wildfire—was inspecting the damage. He ignored the tactical talk and went straight for the machine's ego.
"Kenta," Svarog droned, his eye flickering. "Your contribution to the Underworld is noted. However, according to my calculations, your current plan remains high-risk—"
"Stop right there," Kenta interrupted, leaning in close. "Your calculations said we'd be stuck at the front gate. Ask Clara. Let her tell you who was right today."
Clara, who was busy tinkering with Svarog's shoulder joint, looked up sheepishly. She looked at Svarog, then at Kenta, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mr. Svarog... but I think Big Brother Kenta has a point this time."
The light in Svarog's eye seemed to dim by a few lumens.
Kenta fought the urge to burst into a villainous laugh. He had always wanted to see that look on the robot—that unmistakable spark of mechanical jealousy. Today was a total victory.
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