The old man stared at the crystal before him.
It was a semi-transparent truncated octahedron, refracting dazzling golden light. He gazed at it intently, pondering a question with utmost seriousness:
Why am I looking at this crystal?
He didn't know.
Yet he continued staring, unmoving.
At last, just as he realized something—
The crystal trembled.
Its smooth, mirror-like surface began to fracture. Countless reflections of the old man appeared within it, shards refracting his stunned expression from every angle.
It's no longer transparent, he thought.
As if confirming his thought, the object before him gradually ceased to resemble a "crystal" at all.
Black cracks spread outward.
When the trembling stopped, the object emitted golden radiance. Every facet was wrapped in dense black lines, as though outlining something—
No.
It was outlining something.
The old man's eyes widened.
But suddenly his consciousness blurred. His eyelids grew heavy, uncontrollable.
In the final moment before darkness swallowed his vision, he saw—
Behind the fractured "crystal," a pair of black wings slowly unfurled.
And within each shard surrounded by cracks, a burning eye—split into three segments—opened in unison.
Countless eyes stared at him.
Like countless souls.
"This is… It?"
he murmured.
Darkness fell.
—
Stephen William jolted upright from his wheelchair, gasping for breath.
He didn't understand why he was panting—like someone startled awake from a nightmare.
Though what could be more like a nightmare than reality?
He had maintained a surprisingly content outlook on life despite everything. Even so—
Surely a changing crystal was less terrifying than amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.
Wait.
Wait—
Stephen suddenly raised both hands, disbelief flooding his eyes.
What… is this?
Where was the ALS that had accompanied him for nearly his entire life?
The ventilator installed just a few years ago?
He did not react with the wild joy one might expect from a long-term patient cured overnight.
Instead, he slowly turned his head and looked at the man standing in his room.
Strangely, he was not very surprised.
As if he had invited him.
"Good evening, Sir Stephen."
The golden-haired, green-eyed man bowed politely.
"My name is Otto Apocalypse. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"…H-hello…?"
Stephen spoke haltingly, struggling to reactivate neural pathways long unused.
"It is my sincere honor to meet someone who studies the cosmos," Otto said with a faint smile.
Stephen did not feel the joy reflected in those words.
This is a politician.
Or at least, his visit is not pure.
The elderly scientist, long accustomed to visitors of all kinds, made the judgment swiftly.
But he did not resent impurity of motive.
Age had softened his view of others.
As he once heard during a state visit—after seventy, one becomes "attuned to the ear." Tolerant.
Besides, the man before him had apparently healed his lifelong disease, granting him movement and speech again.
He had not hated his former life.
But if things could be better—
Why not be grateful?
Still, he understood well: everything has a price.
This was no whim of admiration.
He studied the smiling man.
Those green eyes felt familiar.
As if he had just seen them somewhere.
"You've sensed it, I believe," Otto said. "I used a certain power to restore your body, granting you the health to continue exploring the unknown."
Stephen nodded slowly, eyes locked on Otto's deep green gaze.
And the price?
He asked silently.
"Yes," Otto said, reading the question. "I did not come merely to pay respects. Nor was this a passing impulse."
He raised a hand slightly.
"I came to show you the truth of this world."
He stood by the window.
Outside, scattered city lights flickered. The sky was vast and empty—but behind thin clouds, stars were emerging.
Stephen's pupils contracted.
For a fleeting instant, he felt as though black wings unfurled behind the man.
Like the shadow cast by a herald at the dawn of a new era.
—
"So," Stephen spoke more fluidly now, his formidable intellect reasserting control over language. "You are inviting me—and scientists I can reach—to join an organization fighting for humanity's survival?"
He paced slowly around the room—not to think, but simply to savor the sensation of movement. It had been so long.
Even so, he remained composed.
"Yes," Otto replied.
"But my research direction does not directly relate," Stephen said thoughtfully. "My theories, lacking the variable you call 'Honkai,' have become little more than scaffolding discarded from the cathedral of physics."
Otto looked at him as though seeing straight through.
"You believe you cannot shoulder such responsibility," he said. "Yet your gaze toward this new world burns with fascination—untouched by age."
"…You are perceptive."
"But what I seek," Otto continued, "is the collision between your imagined universe and the true one."
He shook his head slightly.
"The universe is mysterious. So is the Honkai. We understand little of either. Yet the methodology of science remains constant. I need your mind—your sharpness—to explore their truths."
"I recall," Otto added, "that decades ago, you studied quantum field theory in curved spacetime and quantum gravity, did you not?"
Stephen's eyes flickered with light.
After a long silence, he asked:
"So what you require… is a 'miracle'?"
"Perhaps," Otto shrugged. "A breakthrough. Though even existing technology remains underutilized. With proper application, it may suffice against the Honkai."
He paused.
"But Cosmic Juggernaut involves matters too critical to dissect internally. I intend to invite you and other scientists to collaborate—to maximize its potential without probing its core."
"You possess a weapon," Stephen summarized, "which you wish to use, yet cannot currently examine internally. So you seek broader collaboration to solve this constraint."
"That is part of it," Otto nodded. "Only the tip of the iceberg."
"I see."
Stephen was wise enough not to ask further.
"When do we depart? Or shall I contact colleagues first?"
"At your convenience," Otto replied. "Set your affairs in order and come."
"Very well."
They stood in silence for a moment, then nodded farewell.
The sun had long since set.
Stars shimmered in the dark blue sky.
As Otto turned to leave, Stephen hesitated.
Then asked:
"What is your purpose?"
Otto paused mid-step.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He turned, smiling faintly.
"What is the universe's purpose?"
"…."
Stephen froze.
His eyes dulled, turning gray as they drifted upward.
"I don't know…"
Otto opened the door.
He smiled again, almost apologetically.
"Neither do I."
From the window, Stephen watched the golden-haired man descend the building unnoticed.
He did not vanish like a god, nor dissolve into light.
Instead, he waved.
An invisible private helicopter shimmered into view.
Otto paused at its door—perhaps waving farewell—then entered.
Seconds later, it faded from sight.
Above, the stars glittered.
Like countless enigmatic eyes.
Stephen stood there a long time.
Then slowly returned to his wheelchair.
He gazed at the sky.
The night was beautiful.
But the horizon had an edge.
◇ You can read 50+ chapter ahead on P@treon if you're interested:
patreon.com/ElaraVance1
✨ Bonus Chapter Goals ✨
10 Reviews = 1 Bonus Chapter
100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter