Beyond the windows, there was no vast sea of stars.
Only the roiling, howling, pure energy of Destruction.
Was it Zephyro?
Or the relentless malice of the universe itself?
He could no longer tell.
…
A cold, heavy object clung to his face, carrying the stench of sulfur and rust.
His trembling hands touched not skin, but a cold, hard metal mask.
The mask was rough and archaic in design, its edges bearing the marks of violent tearing, as if it were a fragment torn from some ancient colossus.
Its metal was dull and lusterless, covered in burn marks and deep scratches.
It had no eyeholes, only two narrow slits filled with rust that looked like dried tears of blood.
The most suffocating part was that several thick energy chains, burning with ghostly blue entropy flames, extended from the mask’s edges.
These chains were no mere decoration; they were embedded deep into his temples and the back of his neck, bringing bone-chilling pain and absolute imprisonment.
He could feel the relentless, greedy suction emanating from the chains, draining his will, his memories, the very “heat” of his existence.
Staring at his reflection in the train window, he realized he had somehow become the very executioner who had killed Cyrene and destroyed Aedes Elysiae.
The cold metal interior of the mask reflected not his face, but the gruesome images of his companions’ deaths in the carriage.
At the same time, an inhuman whisper, filled with endless hunger and malice, slithered into his mind like a cold viper.
“Flame Reaver… your fuel… shall return… to eternal darkness…”
The whisper intertwined with the fragments of Welt’s final warning, bringing boundless despair.
“Why… why have I become the executioner? Why couldn’t I save my friends on the Express? Can I truly bear this burden of being a savior?”
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Phainon was consumed by guilt and doubt, slowly sinking into nothingness.
Just then, a woman in purple robes wielding a long blade appeared before him.
“Another soul on the verge of falling into Nihility,” she said.
She drew her shadowed blade, and tears of blood streamed from the corners of her eyes.
“May I weep for the departed and guide you home!”
With a single slash, Phainon was submerged in a sea of searing heat.
“NO——!!!”
He shot up from the bed like a drowning man gasping for air.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest, each beat bringing suffocating pain.
Cold sweat instantly soaked through his body, sending chills down his spine.
Phainon covered his face with both hands.
All he could feel beneath his fingertips was cold sweat and the roughness of bandages.
No mask.
Outside the window, the train sailed smoothly through the starry seas.
The nebula lay still and silent.
The muffled sound of March 7th’s laughter drifted from the neighboring carriage.
But the embers of the nightmare clung to him like a bone-deep infection.
The phantom pain of cold metal chains embedded in his skull was still vivid.
The stench of sulfur and rust seemed to linger at the tip of his nose.
The malevolent whisper from within the mask echoed through the silent room like a haunting refrain.
“…fuel… eternal darkness…”
And who was that purple-haired woman who appeared at the last moment?
Countless questions filled his mind, yet he had no answers to any of them.
Hearing his cry, a knock came at the door.
“Phainon, are you awake?” Stelle’s voice called out.
Phainon opened the door.
Seeing them all safe and whole before him, he realized that the horrifying scene had been nothing more than his own personal nightmare.
“I just woke up,” he said, suppressing the overwhelming relief of surviving the ordeal.
He followed them to the parlor car.
“Are you okay, Phainon?” March 7th looked at him with concern.
Ever since he woke up, he seemed shrouded in a shadow of gloom.
Her perceptive nature picked up on it easily.
“Herta is actually visiting the train right now. Want her to take a look at you?”
“I’m fine, March.” He pushed aside his emotions, letting his handsome face regain its warm, reassuring smile.
“Just still a bit groggy from waking up.”
“Hey, Phainon!” Stelle grabbed his arm.
“Even though you broke Herta’s Simulated Universe, she not only didn’t ask for compensation, she paid us two hundred million Credits.”
“We’re rich now!”
“Kid, you’re finally awake!” Herta walked up to him as he emerged.
“You really surprised me. Going toe-to-toe with the most powerful Lord Ravager like that.”
“Oh… I guess I am pretty strong.” Since Herta had come in person, Phainon couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the praise.
“So, about your Simulated Universe…”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s broken, who cares.” Herta waved her hand dismissively.
“All the source code is still there. I can build a new one in no time. Besides, the data you brought me is worth more than any research project.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
“I’ll call you when I’ve fixed the Simulated Universe.”
“You gotta ask nicely!” Stelle called out after her back, grinning cheekily.
“I’ve got things to do. See you.”
“This genius isn’t as hard to get along with as I expected,” Phainon remarked.
“That’s because you two still hold enough interest to pique her research curiosity,” Himeko said, watching them.
She held a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Care for a cup to wake yourselves up?”
“Uh, no thanks. March is taking me shopping for clothes.” Phainon had seen the power of that coffee firsthand.
Himeko looked a bit disappointed, turning her gaze toward Stelle, who was trying to slip away unnoticed.
“Wait for me, Phainon! I’m coming too!”
Arriving at the Master Control Zone, Phainon suddenly realized.
“Wait, where do we even shop on the space station?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take you there.” March 7th smiled mysteriously and walked ahead of the group.
“So you’re actually going shopping,” Stelle said, finally catching on.
“And not just… you know…” She shuddered at the memory of Himeko’s coffee.
Little Stelle was scared.
(ﾟДﾟ)
“Not just what?” Phainon gave her a strange look.
“Didn’t you say that day you wanted to take March and me shopping for new clothes? And with Herta’s Credits just deposited, it’s perfect timing.”
“What, you don’t remember?” Phainon’s gaze turned cold.
“Of course I remember, Phainon!” Stelle rushed over and started massaging his shoulders.
“Even if you didn’t want to go, I would’ve brought you back something.”
Then she wrapped her arm around March 7th’s waist, leaned close to her ear, and made sure Phainon wasn’t looking.
“Just between us,” she said with a mischievous grin, whipping out her newly arrived phone, “I took a picture of Phainon in his pajamas that night.”
“What’s so interesting about pajamas?” March 7th pouted, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Fine, let me see what’s so special.”
On the screen was a man fresh out of the shower, his hair still damp, staring at the camera with a confused expression.
A faint flush remained on his face from the heat.
March 7th was taken aback by the sheer force of the Savior’s handsome face.
Then she saw the yellow shirt and purple pants, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter.
New Fanfics out:
Honkai Star Rail: Robin Has a Wicked Sister
Honkai Impact 3rd: Opinions of The Herrscher of Dominance