"Second Movement — Scale and Eternity • Hymn of Order."
Harmony could be said to have been born from the corpse of Order.
Only after devouring Order had Harmony come into being.
"Using the sound of Harmony to command the power of Order—
let the choir once again sing the ancient hymn of Order!"
"He said: Those who come with malice shall not leave unscathed."
"The theatre of a thousand faces never ceases its performance;
the eternal stage remains forever connected."
The tuner sent by the Family chose to accept the strange influence of Order.
He drew that discordant noise into the melody itself, absorbing it as part of Constantina's power.
But when the chorus of Harmony transformed into a hymn praising Order, the earlier dissonance blended into the chant—
and the deeper noise buried beneath it finally surfaced.
A faint, intermittent screech.
Thin.
Distant.
Wrong.
This Grand Theatre was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
The Family's envoy realized, in a single instant, that something had gone catastrophically astray.
But—
it was already too late.
A shrill scream tore through the air, sharp enough to split eardrums.
The "audience" that formed the foundation of the Grand Theatre began collapsing unconscious, row after row.
And a play without spectators was destined to fail.
Before the envoy's disbelieving eyes—
Constantina began to lose control.
The second act, which had been prepared to imprison and annihilate the Antimatter Legion, collapsed the moment it began.
The interrupted performance sent violent backlash through the Grand Theatre itself.
One corner of the immense hall cracked apart and started to crumble.
Then—
the third act began on its own.
Something else had seized the stage.
Act Three — The Howl of Insects, The End of the Old Age
"Listen! Listen well! That piercing cry—
when the fallen old god opens its eyes once more,
its unseen will pours out wrath.
The innocent suffer calamity,
paying the price for their god's sins."
"Where should we go?
Where should we go?
Where should we go?"
"All things must come to an end."
"Sss—Haa—!"
Constantina began to change.
The first signs were subtle.
Then grotesque.
The colossal stone figures supporting the theatre split open and grew mandibles.
The audience erupted into panic.
Their fear shattered the last restraint Harmony still held over the transformation.
The roof folded inward like closing jaws.
The Grand Theatre no longer resembled an opera house.
It looked like a colossal insect hive.
"Third Movement — The Wild, Instinct, The Symphony of Life • Lamentation."
"Bzzzzzz—"
The third melody was not music.
It was the sound of wings.
The earth split open once more.
The same fissures that had swallowed the Doomsday Beasts now vomited forth endless swarms of insects.
Harmony's blessing had once protected this land from weapons and conflict—
but now these insects drew their power from Harmony itself.
Harmony—the most inclusive of Paths—
was also the most vulnerable.
After absorbing Order, it had retained Order's noise.
After tearing apart the swarm of Propagation—
it had also inherited fragments of Propagation's collective concept.
And now that buried inheritance had awakened.
Ironically—
the avatar of Harmony that should have protected the Family had become the greatest threat on the battlefield.
The second act, meant to imprison the Antimatter Legion, had prevented their escape.
Now the Legion and the planet's defenders were ants tied to the same rope.
A moment ago, they had been trying to kill one another.
Now they had no choice but to join forces against the swarm.
Which—
in a certain sense—
was another kind of Harmony.
Meanwhile—
Blade stood with arms crossed, voice low.
"Kafka?"
Kafka smiled faintly.
"I'm here."
Blade frowned.
"The script… changed?"
"This scene wasn't in the original."
Kafka nodded.
"Yes."
"In Elio's newest script, we need to tear open the swarm concept hidden inside Xipe's Harmony."
"Elio says that if we fail to create a crack now…"
"…when the final end arrives, the universe will lose three entire Aeons."
Blade went silent for a moment.
"Elio said that much this time?"
"…Did he mention when I finally get to die?"
Elio's vision of the end granted advantages no ordinary being could imagine.
He saw:
the Envoy of Propagation imprisoned within the Garden of RecollectionXipe, the Aeon of Harmony, torn apart like scattered puzzle piecesfragments of divinity cast across the universe
He also saw many new Paths emerging in the future.
Before the final end arrived, several new Aeons would be born.
Again and again—
he tested futures.
Again and again—
he altered choices.
Again and again—
he rewrote the script.
Behind that seemingly effortless script lay countless unseen efforts.
Give the cat a hug.
The so-called "tearing open the swarm" was, in truth, an internal fracture within Harmony itself.
The Stellaron Hunters had merely placed the proper amount of Propagation god-flesh in the proper place at the proper time.
And there happened to be quite a lot of Propagation god-flesh available.
The Star-Devouring King Insect created by Ruan Mei in the Garden of Recollection had already fused with a portion of Tayzzyronth's divine remains.
For ages, those remains had continuously reshaped the insect.
In other words—
the Aeon of Propagation could have resurrected through it at any moment.
Of course—
only partially.
Because the Path of Propagation had already been shattered.
The best way to tear open the swarm concept—
was to let Propagation return.
Once Propagation revived,
the concept of the Swarm would naturally return to its rightful owner.
Tayzzyronth could never fully come back.
But repeated stimulation could awaken the lingering will left within the broken Path.
That obsession—
the continuation of the species.
Propagation itself had never been the destination.
Only the process.
When Tayzzyronth realized that across the whole universe—
only one true insect remained—
an unbearable loneliness engulfed him.
That desperate longing for the continuation of his kind drove him to ascend and become a god.
Thus the Path of Propagation was born.
From that day on—
he would never be alone again.
Pure propagation meant nothing.
What mattered was the symbolism behind it.
His vast will stirred for one final moment.
Without lifting a finger—
he tore open a crack between Xipe and the Swarm concept she had once devoured.
In that brief awakening—
he understood everything.
This would be the last time he awoke.
After this—
his obsession would fade.
He would cease to exist.
Even if Propagation someday reformed—
would that new god still be him?
Or only a hollow embodiment of reproduction?
His clouded mind could not answer.
But he knew what had to be done now.
He bestowed the last fragments of his shattered Path—
upon his final surviving offspring,
the Star-Devouring King Insect:
Skaracabaz.
The creature that inherited his mandibles and fangs.
Then—
he lowered his own divine rank.
Severed his final chance at resurrection.
This was his last gift.
For the true insect.
For Propagation.
Welcome the birth of a new god.
Even if—
that god was only a false one.
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