Chapter 182: Guess Why He Knows You Lost Because You Weren't Strong Enough
"...I'm still alive."
Sunday slowly opened his eyes, his vision swimming into focus. He found himself suspended in midair—specifically, strung up upon a wooden cross.
Though there was no physical pain lacing his limbs, he could feel a distinct weight resting atop his head: a gleaming, golden crown of thorns.
"Congratulations, Mr. Sunday. You are currently being viewed by the general public as a victim of a terrorist attack, too."
Rekka stood casually at the foot of the cross, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"Where... am I?" Sunday rasped, his voice dry, his mind still piecing together the fractured remnants of the Dreamscape.
"You're on the Astral Express," Rekka replied cheerfully.
Sunday's golden eyes widened a fraction. "The Astral... Express?"
"Yep. I am a Trailblazer," Rekka said, nodding slowly with an exaggerated air of solemnity. "Surprised?"
"A Trailblazer... walking the Path of Trailblaze..." Sunday muttered, his brow furrowing as he stared at the chaotic anomaly before him. "Then why would you be in league with Destruction?"
"Oh, I'm not in league with anyone," Rekka corrected, shaking his head. "But more, now that you've spectacularly lost, what are your thoughts on the matter?"
The memory of his defeat flashed through Sunday's mind. The reason he had lost the climactic battle wasn't a clash of grand ideals, but rather a completely despicable sneak attack. That heavy, shameless blow, striking him in his most defenseless blind spot, had unceremoniously knocked him right off the divine throne of Order.
Although Sunday had originally carefully prepared other contingencies, the sheer haste of the moment meant he could only forcefully synchronize with the remnants of Ena.
"You didn't lose because your philosophy was inherently flawed," Rekka analyzed, pacing a few steps. "You lost because you simply weren't strong enough. If you were truly powerful but still managed to lose, it just means your power needs to be dialed up even higher."
Sunday fell silent, then nodded slowly. The golden thorns shifted slightly against his hair.
It was a brutal truth.
No matter how eloquently one debated the nature of paradise, it was never as efficient as actually taking decisive action. No matter how beautifully you spoke of salvation, if you couldn't win the physical fight to enforce it, it was all just empty talk.
"Not only were you not strong enough," Rekka continued, pointing an accusing finger at him, "but you also tried to take a massive shortcut."
Sunday froze, his composure cracking for a split second. "A... shortcut?"
"Yes, a shortcut. You've been walking on them since the day you were born, haven't you?" Rekka leaned in, his tone dropping its usual playful edge. "The Dreammaster handed you authority, the Dreamscape provided you with a ready-made stage, and the intertwined powers of Order and Harmony gave you your strength. You tried to make the ultimate choice for everyone, planning a flawless paradise completely devoid of pain. But Sunday... you had never even stepped foot outside of Asdana. That was your biggest problem."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating the space between them. Sunday stared at the ceiling of the train car for a long, agonizing moment before finally lowering his gaze to meet Rekka's.
"Tell me..." Sunday murmured, his voice laced with the exhaustion of a fallen savior. "Why does life slumber?"
"Because you sleep when you want to sleep," Rekka replied instantly. "Why so much talk? Sleep is for resting your brain, not for overthinking the universe."
Sunday stared blankly at the Trailblazer, completely choked up by the sheer, unapologetic bluntness of the statement. All his philosophical grandstanding, instantly flattened.
"...You are being entirely perfunctory with me," Sunday managed to say.
"No, I'm dead serious," Rekka said, shaking his head. "You ask why life slumbers; naturally, it's because people are tired and want to sleep. If you insist on digging for some deep philosophical meaning or universal truth in a biological necessity, you'll never find an answer that satisfies you."
"..." Sunday remained utterly silent, unable to formulate a rebuttal to such absurdly grounded logic.
"Look, you're not the first starry-eyed idealist to try and save everyone in the cosmos, and you certainly won't be the last," Rekka sighed, crossing his arms. "Your ideals just haven't been tempered by reality. Right now, they aren't nearly sturdy enough to support the sheer weight of your ambition."
After digesting the harsh critique for a long time, Sunday shifted slightly against his bindings.
"The Asdana system..." he asked quietly. "What is the situation there now?"
"Oh, Asdana is perfectly fine. I brought in Celenova's fleet, and The Swarm has been completely pacified and controlled by my pet. No one suffered any actual harm—well, except for The Dreammaster. The old bird couldn't withstand the sudden shattering of the grand Dreamscape and completely collapsed."
Sunday's breath hitched. "...And my sister?"
"Robin is fine. Safe and sound."
A small, barely perceptible sigh of relief escaped Sunday's lips. The tension in his shoulders visibly melted away.
"So, you won," Sunday said, his tone resigned. "How do you plan to deal with me?"
"Why would I 'deal' with you?" Rekka raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you've done anything truly atrocious."
"I tried to drag all of Asdana into an eternal, inescapable dream," Sunday reminded him flatly.
"You tried to save everyone," Rekka corrected with a shrug. "You didn't cause any actual casualties. Celenova's fleet didn't open fire on the populace, and The Swarm didn't hurt a single soul. However, because you and The Dreammaster actively resurrected the power of Order, you've officially become a highly wanted criminal across the galaxy."
"Why did you stop the disaster?" Sunday pressed, his eyes narrowing.
"Why would I create a disaster?" Rekka countered smoothly.
"You are Nanook."
"I only became Nanook for a day. Don't read too much into it."
Sunday stared at the chaotic young man for a long time, trying to decipher the enigma standing before him.
"You are very interesting, Trailblazer."
"I get that a lot."
"Listen to me," Rekka said, his expression turning surprisingly earnest. "You aren't God, Sunday. You're just a person. So you should start solving problems in a human way. Trying to take shortcuts and hijacking the power of a god to achieve human goals will only ever end in failure on both fronts."
Finally, Rekka revealed his true intentions, extending a hand toward the suspended Halovian.
"Board the Express. Perhaps one day, out there among the stars, you'll actually possess the strength to realize your dreams."
Sunday's eyes widened. "Board the Express... Are you inviting me to join the Astral Express?"
"It's a strong suggestion," Rekka noted. "Your current situation isn't exactly great. You can't go back to the Family, and the IPC definitely won't let you go. As for Order... well, you saw it yourself. An incomplete Aeon cannot support your ideals. Rather than being locked up in some dark, damp prison cell for the rest of your life, why not come out and actually see the real world?"
Sunday closed his eyes. The ethereal golden light radiating from the crown of thorns gradually dimmed, fading into the quiet atmosphere of the room.
"I need time to consider."
"Fair enough," Rekka nodded agreeably. "But until you've made up your mind, you'll have to stay put on the Express."
"Is this imprisonment?"
"It's protection. Do you have any idea how many people outside of Asdana want your head on a silver platter right now?"
Sunday said no more, sinking back into his thoughts.
Rekka turned on his heel and walked out of the room. The heavy metal door hissed shut, slowly closing behind him.
Out in the corridor, March 7th was leaning casually against the wall, holding a plastic cup of half-finished milk tea. When she saw Rekka emerge, her bright pink and blue eyes immediately lit up.
"Is it settled?" she asked, bouncing slightly on her heels.
"He said he needs time to think."
"Well, that's normal, right?" March 7th bit down on her straw, chewing it thoughtfully. "Anyone who gets suddenly defeated, dragged out of a dream, and hung up on a cross would definitely need a minute to process things. But... do you really plan on letting him stay on the Express?"
"Why not?" Rekka asked back, entirely unbothered.
"He almost dragged an entire star system into a permanent dream!" she exclaimed, waving her milk tea for emphasis.
"Key word: almost. He didn't succeed," Rekka said, walking forward a few steps down the ornate carpeted hall. "And his core intentions weren't bad; it was just his methods that were horribly flawed. Besides, there are plenty of people on the Express who can teach him the right way to do things."
In truth, Sunday was deeply skeptical about the idea that boarding the Express would actually help him achieve his grand dreams.
That was, until the very next day, when Rekka's daily cheat activated, switching him to the Path of Erudition—and he proceeded to pull off something absolutely massive.
What exactly does it mean to 'accidentally' whip up a gadget capable of instantly destroying the entire galaxy during one's casual daily routine, only to have it unceremoniously sealed inside the Astral Express's magical safe?
Himeko simply took the apocalyptic blueprints right out of Rekka's hands with a polite, elegant smile, and then ruthlessly carried them away to be locked up forever.
"Is he always like this?" Sunday asked, staring blankly at the scene.
"...Yes, always," March 7th sighed.
Sunday:...
Well, no wonder Rekka had confidently stated that Sunday's dreams couldn't be realized simply because of a lack of strength.
It turned out the Trailblazer really did possess that kind of absurd, reality-breaking capability.
Just as a certain wolf once said that science cannot override the laws of nature—guess why he knows it can't? Because he tried it and failed. Rekka, apparently, succeeded.
On the floor, after finishing a highly dramatic, wailing lament over Himeko ruthlessly seizing his magical little invention, Rekka dusted himself off, stood up as if absolutely nothing had happened, and walked over to the still-contemplating Sunday.
He offered a bright, chaotic grin.
"Welcome back to the waking world of reality, Sunday."
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