[Path Switch: Remembrance → Destruction]
The quiet atmosphere of the dreamscape graveyard weighed heavily on the group. Three weathered tombstones stood in a neat row, though the center slab remained conspicuously blank, devoid of any engraved name or epitaph.
"Actually, this is just a cenotaph," Gallagher explained, his raspy voice breaking the solemn silence. He gestured loosely toward the stone. "Lazarina passed away during the war, and Tiernan... well."
He left the rest unspoken, letting the tragic history of Penacony hang in the air.
March 7th lowered her head, her usually vibrant pink hair seeming to droop. "The Conductor must be so sad..." She sniffled slightly, then turned her gaze toward Rekka, her expression shifting from mourning to a complicated pout. "Speaking of dying... I still remember the first time you died on the Astral Express."
"Wait a minute, when did Rekka die?" Stelle blinked, her golden eyes wide with sudden confusion. She gripped her invisible baseball bat out of habit. "How is there something I don't know about?"
"At the time, I thought you were really gone!" March 7th crossed her arms, huffing indignantly at the memory. "I was crying my eyes out! But then—not even ten minutes later—you just popped back up, completely fine, grinning like an idiot and claiming you watched an ad to revive. All my precious tears went to waste!"
"Simply put, he can come back from the dead," March added, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal anymore."
"Coming back from the dead isn't creepy?" Stelle muttered, eyeing Rekka like he was a walking glitch in the universe.
Rekka ignored the commentary, his eyes entirely glued to the glowing screen of his terminal. He tapped his foot in a rhythmic, impatient tempo.
Gallagher tilted his head, observing the young man's odd behavior. "What exactly are you waiting for, kid?"
"I'm waiting for midnight," Rekka replied without looking up.
For him, the stroke of midnight was the ultimate daily gacha pull—a surprise blind box of cosmic proportions. He never knew exactly which Path the universe was going to violently shove him into next.
"A blind box?" Gallagher raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What can you possibly get out of a midnight blind box?"
"Nanook," Rekka answered deadpan.
"Only one minute left," Delta murmured softly. Her thick, pink, spade-tipped tail had quietly slithered over at some point, securely coiling itself around Rekka's wrist like a protective tether.
Rekka glanced down at the ticking countdown on his terminal, then shifted his gaze back to the three silent graves. "Who do you guys think I should draw tonight?"
"It's not like you actually have a choice," March 7th sighed.
"Draw Nanook! Burn Asdana to ashes!" Stelle suddenly cheered, her inner desire for Destruction flaring to life with chaotic enthusiasm. A second later, she blinked, shaking her head as the rational will of Preservation slapped the intrusive thought down. "No, no, no, wait. I think Qlipoth is better. We need shields, not arson."
Gallagher rubbed his chin, utterly bewildered by the conversation. "What exactly are you all discussing? Is this some kind of tabletop card game where you turn the almighty Aeons into little trading cards?"
"Something exactly like that!" Sparkle chimed in, materializing with a playful twirl, her fox mask bobbing. "Come on, come on! Can we draw Aha? Let's get some real entertainment going!"
Rekka froze, a sudden realization hitting him like a physical blow.
Come to think of it, he had completely overlooked a glaring possibility regarding his previous transformations. Whenever he shifted into the form of the Aeon of Elation, was it possible that Aha was personally hijacking the connection? Perhaps he wasn't just borrowing the Path; perhaps he was temporarily becoming one of Aha's countless masks, a fleeting identity, or even a vessel for the Aeon's original chaotic intent.
Worse yet, what if Aha was secretly siphoning off the system's granted power to go pull pranks elsewhere, leaving Rekka with nothing?
'Is that bastard using me as a portable power bank?' Rekka thought, his eyes narrowing.
It made too much sense. Every single time he rolled the Path of Elation, a bizarre sensation would wash over him. For one glorious, fleeting second, he would feel an all-powerful surge of cosmic strength—only for it to instantly vanish, replaced by a hollow weakness. His combat effectiveness would plummet to that of an utterly ordinary person, as if the universe itself was dangling ultimate power in front of his face just to snatch it away and laugh.
Was Aha intentionally nerfing him just to watch him struggle for pure entertainment? Knowing the Aeon of Elation, the answer was a resounding yes.
Zero hour. Midnight struck.
Rekka's body gave a violent, involuntary shudder, as if an invisible, colossal hand had reached into his chest and plucked his very soul like a guitar string. The ambient temperature plummeted. The surrounding air seemed to freeze solid for a terrifying fraction of a second before snapping back to normal.
He lowered his head, staring blankly at his hands.
"...So, what did you draw?" Stelle leaned in, tilting her head with morbid curiosity.
Rekka slowly opened his eyes.
A violent, molten gold surged within his irises, burning with the intensity of a dying star. The sheer oppressive weight radiating from his gaze made the air crackle.
Stelle took a slow step back. "Alright, I don't need to ask."
"You really drew Nanook?" March 7th squeaked, clutching her bow.
"Hold it back, hold it back, you living ancestor," Sparkle cooed, reaching out a hand in a rare display of caution to soothe him. "Let's not treat the galaxy like a cheap firecracker tonight, okay?"
Rekka did not speak. He simply gave a slow, rigid nod.
Flame was the ultimate sign of Destruction. He stood rooted to the spot, entirely motionless like a petrified statue. The casual banter died instantly. The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense. Even Gallagher dropped his nonchalant, slouched posture, his spine straightening as he narrowed his eyes at the terrifying aura leaking from the young man.
Misha, sensing the overwhelming predatory instinct flooding the area, let out a quiet whimper and instinctively ducked behind Stelle, peeking out with only half his face visible.
Sensing the shift, Delta's tail wrapped even tighter around Rekka's wrist, the firm pressure a silent anchor reminding him that she was still right beside him.
"Um... Rekka?" Stelle called out, her tone uncharacteristically tentative. "Are you okay in there?"
"Not really," Rekka rasped, his voice sounding slightly deeper, echoing with a faint, metallic distortion.
He blinked rapidly. The blinding gold in his eyes receded slightly, dialing back from a supernova to a smoldering ember, though dangerous traces of it still flickered in his pupils.
"But I can control it. Probably."
"Probably?" March 7th echoed, her voice pitching up an octave.
"Probably means I can control it," Rekka stated flatly. He raised his right hand, staring intently at his palm. A volatile wisp of golden, destructive energy danced across his fingertips, hissing like a lit fuse. With a casual clench of his fist, he crushed the light into nothingness.
"So... what exactly is the situation here?" Gallagher asked, his tone laced with heavy caution.
"Rekka is the most ferocious Trailblazer on our Astral Express," March 7th declared, puffing out her chest slightly after a moment of thought. "He accomplished something that perhaps only Akivili the Trailblaze could have ever pulled off."
"What thing?" Gallagher frowned, thoroughly puzzled. What could this chaotic kid have possibly done? Just how far across the cosmos had he trailblazed?
"He gave an Astral Express boarding ticket to the Aeon of Destruction and the Aeon of Abundance!"
Hearing this, Gallagher froze entirely. The seasoned hound of Penacony looked like his brain had just short-circuited. "What did you just say? I don't think I heard you clearly."
"He gave an Astral Express ticket to the Aeon of Destruction and the Aeon of Abundance!" March repeated, louder this time.
Gallagher opened his mouth to speak, found no words, closed it, and slowly raised a hand to massage his throbbing temples. "Wait. Hold on. Let me process this." He took a long, deep breath, trying to stabilize his sanity. "You're telling me that this... this Trailblazer on your train, not only managed to casually meet Nanook and Yaoshi face-to-face, but he also handed them train tickets?"
"Yep!"
"And they actually accepted them?"
Gallagher slowly turned his head, staring at Rekka with an expression so intensely complex it bordered on existential dread.
Rekka remained entirely oblivious to the bartender's internal crisis. He was still looking down, staring intently at his palm. The golden light continuously flickered and flared between his fingers, behaving like a wild beast testing the limits of its cage—and his patience.
It was utterly terrifying.
"I'm not even worried about the dreamscape collapsing anymore," Gallagher muttered. "I'm worried that you're going to explode first."
"Don't worry, I'll be perfectly fine as long as I don't get angry," Rekka said, shaking his head slowly to clear the violent static from his mind.
He wasn't directly logged into Nanook's main account right now. It felt more like the Aeon of Destruction had specially opened a high-level alt account just for him to mess around with. He wasn't a mere Lord Ravager, bound to a specific philosophy of ruin. He was currently holding a direct fragment of an Aeon's authority.
And a fragment of an Aeon was still, fundamentally, an Aeon.
"What exactly is the prerequisite for you getting angry?" Firefly asked, her voice laced with genuine concern as she analyzed the situation.
"Well, I'm not the type of person to just go around destroying things purely because I'm angry. Don't worry about that," Rekka reassured the group with a stiff, unconvincing smile.
It was technically true. He didn't destroy things because he was angry.
Rather, the current Path mechanics dictated that he would get incredibly angry if he didn't destroy things.
'I really, really want to blow something up right now,' Rekka thought, his fingers twitching.
He felt exceptionally restless tonight. Perhaps it was because Nanook had cast a fleeting glance his way across the cosmos earlier. The Ruin Author hadn't issued any specific mission or directive, but Rekka's mind was already racing, calculating trajectories, blast radiuses, and optimal ways to start a fight.
If he were to fully descend into the fray using the simulated body of a Destruction Aeon, the upcoming battle against the remnants of the Order might take a disastrous turn. The crew would likely have to stop fighting the Order just to team up and stop him from vaporizing the entire star system.
Delta's tail gave another gentle squeeze. She hadn't let go of his wrist for a single second. She looked up, her bright eyes studying the tense, rigid lines of Rekka's profile.
"It's okay," Rekka exhaled, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
Using every ounce of his willpower, he forcefully suppressed the burning urge to annihilate his surroundings. He reached out with his free hand and gently ruffled the soft pink hair on top of Delta's head.
Taking a deep breath to center himself, he turned his attention to the trembling bellboy hiding behind Stelle.
"Misha," Rekka called out, his voice returning to its usual casual cadence. "I told you earlier that I had a special surprise to show you. Shall we take a look at it now?"
Misha peeked out, his eyes lighting up with hesitant excitement. "Okay! What is the surprise?"
Rekka offered a sharp, slightly dangerous grin. "It's an Astral Express."
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