Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So this is it. Amphoreous, here we come!” Stelle cheered, kicking her feet. “I really hope this lives up to my expectations. With the way you described it, I know that the planet must be a sight to see.”

“Oh, it will be glorious indeed,” the woman assured, lips curling.

They had just recently completed their trip to Penacony and picked up a couple of people along the way. The crew was well-deserving of a vacation, in her opinion. Amphoreous could be that kind of place- thus far, they had dealt with planets and ships that had a lengthy recorded history, and all the baggage that accompanied it. In this case, she knew next to nothing about the planet. That might as well be a good omen, if she looked at the circumstance from the right perspective.

March had been down on the weather, so she had taken to sleeping in her room. The rest of them had gathered in the parlor in preparation for this event. There was, as usual, a tangible excitement within their shared glances.

“Everyone, please be seated for the duration of the warp,” the conductor announced. “We will be traveling in three…two…one…! Initiating takeoff!”

The train sped into action. Stars blurred into white streaks as they entered warp speed, passing the barrier that separated Amphoreous from the rest of the universe. A direction that only memokeepers knew, Black Swan informed them. Stelle hoped that she was correct. No more asteroid pit stops for the rest of their life; How conducive would that be toward adventuring?

Surely, with someone like her on their side, nothing would go wrong!

The entire train shook, and a familiar, powerful wave of nausea consumed her. She barely had the time to think, Shit, I jinxed it, before losing consciousness.

…

“Oughh…my head. I hate Penacony, and I hate this. Why, every time...”

Stelle came back to the waking world, rubbing her head. Surely it was not too much to ask for one decent train ride without interruptions? Fainting at their previous stop was bad enough. At least this time, she wasn’t the only person who had suffered ill effects. Sure, she was the youngest of the trailblazers, but she didn’t want to feel the part. The role of being spoiled and made fun of belonged to March.

Dan Heng was breathing in the dirt of a potted plant, Welt’s glasses had fallen, Himeko barely missed smacking her head on her coffee plate, and…

She rubbed her eyes.

Wait, aren’t there a lot more people here than before?

A blonde woman was lying near the omni-synthesizer, a tall man with sun iconography was splayed on the ground like a snow angel, and two women were lying on each other with a little girl on their lap. She took a headcount. Black Swan was missing, and there were eight new arrivals, a greater number than their own if Pom-pom and Shush were excluded. And they were beginning to stir.

She drew her bat.

Everyone else had begun to wake, and the strangers regarded their surroundings with a flicker of shock and alarm before they swiftly drew their weapons and broke off into groups, facing whoever was closest. A couple of the intruders exited the radius of the fights entirely, choosing to sequester themselves in a corner. Noncombatants, she presumed.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

Before Stelle registered anything, the area was filled with golden strings, lassoing around every cushion, every door handle, and every edge. Several members of the Express were obstructed by the sharp tangents, but with a thin swish, Himeko sliced through them.

The blonde tensed her outstretched fingers minutely, her gorgeous face twisting into something cold. So the threads belonged to her. Judging by her reaction, she had not expected then to be shorn so easily.

The navigator hacked away at the excess gold, keeping the other focused on her. When the seamstress attempted to crowd control and influence their surroundings, she sliced her strings. When she tried to trap her, drones flew in, undoing her efforts. When she targeted the drones, Himeko would stop her before she could take them down. Finally, the blonde became fed up, reaching into the side of her dress and drawing out a needle-like sword. They clashed blade to blade.

“Could we talk this through?” Welt inquired of his adversary.

The elf-like woman said nothing, swinging her scythe, which he blocked with his cane. She was careful not to get too close to him, he noticed- a glass canon, perhaps? The young woman had driven him away from the other members of their respective parties, engaging him one-on-one in a manner that felt not quite noble, but tempered. Yes, that was the correct word for it.

She wasn’t a bad fighter either, though she seemed quite prone to leaving herself open. Her strikes were quick, powerful, and a little bit uneven, which made them unpredictable. He decided that it was better to remain on the defensive, though, just to see what she and the rest of her group were capable of.

Stelle, unfortunately, managed to get strung upon the golden threads. Although she kept hold of her weapon, being dangled upside down rendered her effectively useless. Thanks to Himeko, she was quickly freed, and upon landing, she immediately joined Dan Heng in battle.

Her fellow trailblazer was facing off against the white-haired man. His opponent was grinning slightly as they locked blades, enjoying the thrill of battle. Dan Heng bent his knees to prevent being pushed back. This warrior was not quite as skilled as him, but he was stronger. And surprisingly fast, he thought, leaping back as a berserker with red tattoos attempted to strike him from the side. The vidyadhara twisted his staff around his back to stab at them from this farther distance. Range was his friend here. And speaking of friends…

Stelle landed on the berserker from above, crossing her legs around him and flipping him off his feet, then hopping out of the way so she wouldn’t be crushed when he fell. He quickly righted himself and threw a punch, which she blocked with the flaming lance she had just materialized. She then returned the bat and hit him in the stomach. This move proved to be ineffective.

Though the pressure on her companion had lessened since multiple people were no longer jumping him, he still did not gain much of an advantage. With one powerful slash, the smiling man swung his blade, cleaving his spear in two.

“Cloud Piercer!” Dan Heng cried.

Thorny vines wrapped around the berserker, dragging him from the fight. His golden blood dripped from the minute cuts inflicted by the thorns, but he did not falter at the pain. As they attempted to bind him, he tensed his body, spreading his arms from where they were pinned until he ripped right through the brambles.

Did he just break the binds though flexing?

The berserker pulled the rest of the vines off, moving away from the others’ conflict to focus on him. The halovian turned heel and began to flee. Given the lack of space, he did not have many places to go, so they simply went in ugly arcs around the others.

Zip.

Dan Heng stumbled as his earpieces magically vanished from their rightful place and ended up falling into his shirt. His broken half of the spear had been similarly yanked, leaving him with nothing to defend himself with.

His opponent whacked him in the face with the hilt of his sword, sending him careening. The taller man turned to Stelle as her friend crashed into a table. She twirled her bat in a circle, daring him to attack.

Zip.

The bludgeon disappeared from Stelle’s grasp, and her skirt fell to her ankles. She threw her arms in the air.

“Oh come on, that has to be cheating!”

Fortunately, her pantsing startled the enemy warrior more than it did her, and his next strike went off-kilter.

Zip.

Sunday tripped over thin air. He pushed himself into a sitting position, sweating as the shadow of his pursuer extended over him.

Zip.

The bandage-clad mortician's scythe swung downwards as the cane opposing it went missing. Welt sidestepped the slice, and she tripped forward as well due to the sudden lack of a balancing force. He instinctively reached out to catch her, but she shrieked in protest, causing him to flinch back. She hit the floor with a dull thump.

It was hard to say who was more embarrassed by this series of events.

Zip.

“Ohoho, what a haul!” A woman with cat ears bounced on her feet, smirking as she held her bounty. She dropped the weapons, and they clattered to the ground, protected behind the shield of heavy hitters. “This is certainly a rather interesting collection of knick-knacks, fitting for a group of weird kidnappers. I’d get that strange briefcase, if Aggy weren’t taking care of that…”

She picked up the cane. It was the most abnormal of the group by far, and didn’t seem as though it could do very much damage. The cat burglar brought it up to the light. Surely there must be something more to this, right?

Upon closer inspection, it was quite an intricate construction- and wait, a flicking mechanism was hidden in the staff. She pressed her nail against the underside of the handle.

With a clack, a shining red construct appeared around her, imprisoning her within its mechanical claws. She barely had the time to make an alarmed ‘heh?!’ before the owner of the weapon was before her.

Welt kneed her in the stomach and sent her flying, the construct dissipating upon contact so as not to get in his way. She went flying and, when she hit the glass window on the side of the train, left a vaguely cat-shaped imprint. He stomped on the baseball bat she had stolen, sending the thing spinning toward a specific target.

Stelle triumphantly caught it by the hilt.

She used the residual momentum to amplify her strike, stamping on the ground and swinging the bat in a large arc. The warrior barely managed to avoid being brained. Not one to let an opportunity go, she allowed the weapon to fly out of her hand again, utilizing the way he tracked it as a distraction to pounce on him and latch onto his front like a face hugger. The white-haired man stumbled around, clawing at her to get off, and in his paltry efforts walked straight into the seamstress’s back. She had been about to win her match.

Instead, she became the foundation of their three-person pile.

Himeko walked over and rested her blade on the other woman’s neck. “Don’t move.”

Simultaneously, the berserker pressed Sunday against his chest, gauntlet held against his cheek. “Let her free, or the birdman will face consequences.”

“What the heck is going on?!”

Everyone turned to the interruption as March burst into the scene, adorned in her bright pink pajamas. She stared at them open-mouthed, taking in the carnage, the large addition in passengers, and whatever dual-hostage situation was occurring. After a lengthy pause, she stepped back and pulled the door shut.

They examined each other, neither group particularly willing to part with their leverage. The fighting drew to a standstill as they each retreated to their respective sides of the car. With a prisoner in tow, they could now ask questions with some expectation of receiving an answer.

“Where did you bring us?” the bandaged girl inquired.

“What are you doing on our train?!” Stelle retorted. “Come on, you’re the ones breaking into our place.”

A long and awkward silence ensued. Both sides lowered their weapons in confusion, though only partially. Swords, canes, and bats remained at the ready. One could not be too careful, after all, when met with strangers dressed and armed in a way unlike anything they have seen.

Himeko was the first to act.

“I believe we may have started on the wrong foot.” She sheathed her saw, placing her suitcase on the ground and holding her hands up placatingly. The blonde was able to escape, and pile victim number two went with her. They returned to their side of the room. “Apologies for attacking, but we were under the assumption that this was a break-in. People have boarded without our notice before, but such a large group is…naturally perturbing. I hope you understand.”

“We are capable of empathizing, had we been in the same position,” the seamstress stated, as though she just hadn’t been threatened with a saw to the neck. “But if possible, please give us a minute to discuss our path of recourse.”

She waved a hand, and the berserker released his captive.

Two of the three people hanging in the back approached from their protected position. They formed a circle and spent some time talking to each other in hushed tones while the members of the express chatted about whether this strange incident was Black Swan’s doing. Amphoreus was already an unusual destination, with it having been hidden from the universe’s gaze, and they were not about to discount interference.

The Express’s archivist was moving all the damaged tables and furniture to the side (including the one he had been thrown into) so that it was easy to note what needed fixing. Stelle pushed him out of the way and did the rest herself. She hadn’t been injured during the scrape.

The girl with twin tails had gone to treat the burglar and berserker. Once her patients were dealt with, she then approached Dan Heng, who allowed her to tend to the few cuts he had sustained. Afterwards, she joined in on the conclusion of the strangers’ conversation.

With matters addressed, the blonde approached them, head tilted in practiced business remorse.

“It would be prudent to express our regret for acting violently. We should have acted befitting of our station and introduced ourselves, as per the rules of etiquette.”

“It’s alright,” Stelle said. “We’ve all had our moments. Let’s meet each other again, properly this time.”

In a remarkably belated fashion, their last passenger burst back in, fully clothed with her bow drawn and ice swirling around her. “Don’t worry, everyone, your heroine has arrived!”

“March, the fight’s over.”

“...Oh. Whoops.”

…

Aglaea, the woman who wielded golden strings, served as their current leader. The demigod of romance revealed that she was blind in a sense and that she considered herself a tailor. Tailor was quite underselling her abilities- from the battle, they were almost certain that she could see and feel through her strings, making her suited for being an overseer of sorts. She was polite, pleasant even, but difficult to get a read on.

What was clear was that the rest of them held her in high esteem.

The next person in line was the white-haired man whom Stelle had menaced. He introduced himself as Phainon, the “deliverer”. He seemed nice, if rather boring, but he was strong. For that, Stelle had to give him respect.

“Before you got Welt’s help, I was totally winning,” he said cheerily, shaking her hand.

Oh, okay. I see how it is.

“In my humble opinion, the tide of battle turned when your companion left your side. He seems to be the superior warrior.”

His smile withered slightly.

“She has discernment.” The berserker was noticeably pleased. He took the stage, naturally slotting in after Phainon.

The tattooed man claimed that he did not prefer the title of berserker as he wasn’t one, and insisted that they address him as simply “Mydeimous”. His fellow white-haired warrior piped up, telling them that “Mydei happens to be a prince, you know?” He also said that the Kremnoan was Amphoreus’s most desired male boss…whatever that meant.

“And I’m next! Ahh, I really am not feeling gracious right now. Of everybody, I was hit the hardest. I might as well have been run over by a carriage,” the cat burglar faced Welt emphatically. “What are you made of, old man?!”

“I…I do apologize…”

“You’re just lucky that your alien monies aren’t particularly appealing to me.”

Cipher crowed that she represented trickery: a money-loving woman not good at much else except lying and stealing. Several of the other members looked upset at her words, but the pride that she exhibited at that statement stayed their protests. The ears upon her head were real, and so was her tail, an appendage that had escaped her notice up until this point.

The young woman with the butterfly theme bowed to them. “It’s nice to meet everyone. My name is Castorice, the prospective successor of the death titan’s coreflame.”

Her role was fitting for a mortician. She seemed rather reserved; the flicker of fire that she had demonstrated during the fight was smothered under her placid demeanor. She stood a bit farther from the group, and the picture painted one of a rather subdued, yet striking loneliness.

Among the Chrysos heirs that abstained from battle were Hyacine, Tribbie, and Anaxa. The former two appeared more friendly, and approached the rest of the crew once it became clear that there were no harsh feelings on their end.

Hyacine was a spirited healer descended from the “sky people", holding no pride beyond necessary, except for her passion regarding what she called the “Twilight Courtyard.” She was the physically weakest among all of the intruders, yet somehow managed to hide a fat little creature from them until now. Everyone cooed over the thing, enraptured by how soft, plump, and physics-defying its flight managed to be.

Tribbie, too, was met with the kind of adoration reserved for children and baby creatures. The demigod of passage happily accepted the praise, but clarified that she was, in fact, the eldest of all the heroes. Stelle assumed that this was a pepeshi scenario. Those buggers were never as innocent as they appear- in fact, they were incredible menaces when she did have to deal with them- but the small demigod seemed much more genuine and personable than average.

Anaxa had been frowning, as he had done during the entirety of the encounter. He introduced himself as a scholar and nothing more. Hyacine added to his lackluster description, saying that he shouldn’t be so short with information because their new acquaintances had not proven untrustworthy yet. She told them that he was one of the “Grove of Epiphany’s” seven sages, known quite disparagingly as “the blasphemer.”

As the heroes introduced themselves, Sunday hung back, bristling slightly. It was not an easy tic to notice- his feathers were slightly stuck out, like a bird trying to make itself look larger than it was. He still hadn’t really fit in with the crew, due more to his own reticence to partake in the trailblazers’ customs than any lack of welcome on their part.

“Are they not truly friendly?” Himeko asked quietly, trying to discuss his concerns. The halovian was no emanator, but he was far more powerful than any ordinary pathstrider. He would be able to, on some level, perceive the thoughts and emotions of the opposing party.

“Negative,” he replied. “I don’t believe that they harbor any ill intention. Furthermore, each of these ‘Chrysos Heirs’ shares strong bonds with each other. It’s just that-”

Suddenly, he stopped. Time seemed to freeze, the stars moving slowly past the windows of the express coming to a halt. The entire background became monochrome, as though all the color within the world had been siphoned away in an instant, affecting all but the people within the car. A singular point of color remained: a swirl of pink, bending and doubling back upon itself like the numerical character of infinity, poofed into existence before them.

Pom-pom made a fearful noise and hid behind Stelle.

The light formed a small head with winged ears, stubby arms, and a soft, fluffy tail, all cloaked in the same cotton-candy pink. It was…awfully cute. The entity opened its bright blue eyes, giving its live audience a charming smile.

Awe and abject confusion permeated the train. Of everyone, only one person recognized the creature for its species.

“A fairy…?” the white-haired man whispered, lowering his guard.

“You know what manner of beast it is, Phainon?” Aglaea inquired.

“Yes, there was a flutter in my homeland. But they certainly do not possess powers like this.”

The creature giggled. “Well, I certainly hope that not too many others are like me! I’m a one-of-a-kind girl, and besides, that would make for much trouble in the universe~ ♪”

Chapter Text

Dang Heng, ever the respectful stranger, approached her with a slight bow.

“Well met, fairy.”

“How polite!” she chittered. “It’s a pleasure, Dan Heng. For the time being, you can refer to me as Mem.”

“Did you abduct us to this foreign vehicle?” Mydei asked. Phainon, with incredible subtlety, elbowed him in the ribs. The prince elbowed him back, harder. He was only saying what everyone wanted to know, and was within his rights to be blunt, considering they caused an unnecessary fight.

“Simply put, yes.” She put a small paw on her chin. “If we are to get technical, I enlisted the help of the soothsayer aboard the train. Although everyone envisions this vehicle as though they are physically present, experiencing stimuli as they would in ordinary circumstances, the space you share is nothing but a mental projection upheld by the Garden with the end goal of preserving their ever-so-cherished private collection.”

“Dreamscape,” Sunday breathed.

Himeko, picking up on his utterance, asked the natural follow-up question. “Then will we be correct in assuming that death is not something that can exist within this space?”

The Chrysos Heirs, now fully out of their depth, let the train’s equally curious inhabitants take over this questioning.

“Death of the body is impossible, true, but this isn’t an excuse to be careless! Harm to the mind and soul can still occur within a simulation.”

“So it’s the same principle as falling from the sky in Penacony,” Stelle noted. “I acted like it wasn’t so bad because I didn’t want to lose aura, but it hurt like a bitch. Thankfully, the pain disappeared outside of the Hours.”

March slapped their arm. “Oh my gosh, just cry next time. It’ll make you feel better!”

“And what of Black Swan?” Welt inquired. She had notably been absent during this entire exchange, and if his instincts were to be trusted, then she was no longer within the shared dream. It was, to be honest, slightly worrying.

“Black Swan will not be joining everyone, unfortunately. As much as I want witnesses to this romantic story of ours, I cannot afford her the same level of trust as the members of the trailblaze. You are quiiite special to me.” The little creature’s eyes hardened slightly. “But don’t worry! We have a pleasant working relationship. She, and the party that she represents, were more than happy to acquiesce to my requests once I revealed myself to them fully for the first time. I am so very lucky that the ticking clock is simply another dimension to those all-encompassing concepts ♪”

Everyone stared at the creature, a touch warier than they were previously. Mem blinked, suddenly seeming to realize that she had gotten away from herself. She clapped her fuzzy pads together.

“Ahh, but that isn’t the main point of this arrangement!” Her tail wagged in arcs around her as she summoned a quill out of nowhere and began to write. “Talk with each other, get to know each other. And once you are ready, through the page I have passed from the epilogue to the prologue of this story, witness our future!”

She disappeared in a burst of sparkles. Color returned to their surroundings.

The Trailblazers and Chrysos Heirs looked at each other. Were they supposed to begin now? It was a rather awkward introduction, as Dan Heng’s weapon was broken, March still appeared a little tired, and the heroes did not know how to conduct themselves in an environment so removed from their own.

“All of this is getting on my nerves.”

The first to move was, surprisingly enough, Anaxa. The scholar of pale green had been silent during most of the exchange, sitting back and observing these strangers from beyond the sky. Despite having a gun attached to his hip, he had not wielded it, instead allowing his companions to act. Far be it for a frail academic to interfere.

He marched right up to Stelle.

“You have a teleslate. I had seen you stow it away before everyone fought.”

She blinked. “Teles…late? I’m not sure what you are speaking of.”

At her obliviousness, Anaxa pointed one delicate finger at her skirt pocket.

“My phone?”

The trailblazer took out her cellular device, and the grove scholar showed her his own in return. He had a rather…corny case design, displaying a blacked-out silhouette of a person with a question mark. The buttons and screens were the same, however; they really did seem identical, despite going by different names.

“We have a local system in Amphoreus connected by the weaver’s strings,” he explained. “They allow us to disseminate and contain information, such as the Okheman dictionary, as well as a portion of the Grove’s knowledge that they were willing to disseminate. I am willing to bet that yours functions much the same, at least in practical use.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what the specific places you are talking about are, but phones are used similarly. Our communications were set up by the IPC many amber eras ago, and I am not sure how they did that, but it’s a different method. Still, though, it would be good to see if we can connect you guys to the internet!”

Stelle fumbled with Anaxa’s phone for a few minutes, but did not manage to make significant progress. After the signal failed to sync for a third time, she returned it with a sigh.

“It was worth a try. I guess that you’ll have to get information the old-fashioned way.” She scratched her forehead. “You can use mine for now. If you wanna know about the trailblaze’s travels, then Dan Heng is our primary archivist, and if you want general life experience, then Himeko and Welt are there.”

“You have my gratitude.” He took the trailblazer's phone, depriving her of her precious collection of cake cat videos, and went to accost Dan Heng. The vidyadhara was practically dragged away.

Their exchange has broken the tension. The others all scattered into groups of discussion, thoroughly meshed despite their lack of knowledge regarding each other. The Chrysos Heirs were surprisingly friendly, heroes that they were, and the trailblazers also boasted their openness towards different worlds.

Tribbie had roped Himeko into an explanation of the train’s mechanics. The young inventor listened with starry eyes as she explained her task of repairing the train, and the many contraptions that went into making it run. These stories devolved into adventures of Akivili, which the girl absorbed like rain in the desert. She had attached herself to the older redhead instantaneously.

Himeko explained that refueling was the reason they had chosen to explore Amphoreus, maneuvered by the hand on one enigmatic memokeeper. As she spoke about potential aeon interference hiding their world, the scientist showed Janus’s priest the sight of her planet in the distance, the rainbow symbol of infinity held by the shine of a star within the center, the same imprint that Mem had made when she appeared.

“So this is Amphoreus? It’s so beautiful!” Tribbie marveled. “Those rainbow loops couldn’t be seen from below. Perhaps those are the sky people’s bridges that Hyacine was talking about.”

“A most beautiful natural phenomenon indeed. I haven’t witnessed anything like it in all my years aboard the Astral Express.”

“I wonder…”

Himeko made an inquiring sound as she trailed off. She broke out of her reverie with a slightly awkward clearing of her throat and explained herself.

“I had created the schematics for a rocketship that was used to spread messages,” the diminutive demigod mused. “But they would simply fall back down to the ground once they breached Aquila’s domain. They’re a rather severe guardian, so nothing could get past the for long.”

She approached the train windows.

“I wonder if this was the sight that I would have seen, had I one day succeeded.”

“It must be disappointing,” Himeko responded. “I doubt you imagined this to be your introduction to what lies beyond the sky. I hope that you do not feel robbed of the opportunity to reach the stars through your own efforts.”

She shook her head, an impossibly old smile forming on her childlike face. “I’m not sad about it! Even if I come up by myself, the stars and angle that I could see Amphoreus from would be different. Besides, now we have the opportunity to make such interesting friends!”

…

Cipher had pinched (read: forced) Aglaea and Sunday to listen to her ramblings about the dreamscape they had been taken to. It was honestly a rather fascinating listen, if only as a gauge of how right or wrong the cat burglar was.

“When you think about it, isn’t the fabric of the dreamscape technically a lie?” she ranted. “If we only see what we see because of the collective belief of others, then if they are deceived, our surroundings themselves are privy to change! Isn’t that oh so similar to Zagreus’s abilities- my abilities?”

“But in this case, the train is based only upon the memories and perceptions of our new acquaintances,” Aglaea refuted. “We have no part in its formation. The question, then, is how many people would have to believe in that collective perception, in order to form the basis of our shared experience.”

“There are…other aspects to keep in mind,” Sunday said quietly. “Dreamweavers and Memokeepers can collaborate to make concrete constructions of memoria. Dreams are not always so malleable.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, chicken wing boy!” The halovian closed his eyes and tilted his head skyward as the nickname, as though through some cosmic joke, came back to haunt him. “But, but, but! You and the rest of this crew have dealt with such spaces before, right? So tell me, if we all believe that death is impossible, would that become true? And if someone does die within this realm of the mind, will they die, or simply wake up from the dream?”

“In most cases, death should be impossible…but if a recipient experiences severe trauma, the effects of it can lead to lasting mental conditions, and in the worst case scenario, a brain-dead state.”

“Trauma…” Her ears flicked.

Cipher turned away from the two, ignoring her senior’s sharp warning call. She marched over to Castorice, and, pressing one heel firmly into the homebody’s back, shoved her over. She fell straight onto Pom-pom, flattening the conductor with a cartoonish squeaking noise.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

Everyone in the vicinity froze at her cry. The heroes, seeing that it was Castorice specifically, expected the worst- after all, they had become accustomed to walking around her. To not mention as such to the trailblazers was a deadly oversight. Phainon hurried over, hovering above them haltingly.

However, when she tearfully extricated herself from the plush bunny, they were rubbing their hat with annoyance.

“Mind yourselves, please!” Pom-pom whined. “I’ve been kicked and squished enough to last until the Finality.”

She kneeled before the conductor, mouth slightly open in demure shock. After a couple of moments, she hesitantly reached out again, cupping their small cheeks. This seemed to rile up and please Pom-pom simultaneously.

“D-don’t look down upon me!” they cried.

“I…dearly apologize,” the maiden responded. “My actions are not meant to condescend. I was merely surprised that…I did not hurt you more.”

Castorice was blessed by Thanatos. Everything she touched was robbed of life, as surely as water flowed downstream and the sun rose each morning. And yet, within the strange illusion they had been cast into, this irrefutable law had been broken. Was it simply a fluke, or was it impossible for the curse to reach a dream?

Phainon took the initiative to find out. He held a hand to her, offering to help her stand.

“Come, Castorice, we should help our hosts set up. We did drop in quite abruptly.” He tilted his head at Pom-pom. “Let the esteemed conductor do their job- I’m sure that they have much to take care of!”

Castorice deliberated the risk, before steeling herself to reach up and take it. The deliverer pulled her to her feet, giving her a faint nod of reassurance- neither will be harmed within the soft folds of unreality that had been crafted. Even as they split up right after to do different things, the act of solidarity left a rare smile on the young woman’s face.

Cipher sauntered back to her group, as smug as the cat who had caught the canary.

“Really, Cifera?” the seamstress frowned. “You took an undue risk. What if that didn’t go as planned?”

“Have a little trust in me, meow!”

…

Mydei and Hyacine stood by while Welt opened the doors to the neglected buffet car. They had taken to exploring the train, which, although small, still possessed plenty of sights for the formerly planet-bound chrysos heirs. They took their sweet time admiring the sight of stars in the distance and the relatively modern yet persisting architecture within the train.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve made serious use of these rooms,” he said apologetically. “Usually, we just dine in the parlor or party rooms, since our schedules differ somewhat.”

The room was indeed rather dusty. Pom-pom cleaned every so often, but they weren’t nearly as detail-oriented when it came to places the crew hadn’t used in years. Still, it contained the basics. A kitchen with an island sported plenty of cabinets, filled to the brim with plates, pots, pans, and fancy china. There was even a spice rack in the drawers above a communal fridge, which the prince made an approving noise at.

“A good diet is the basis of good health,” Hyacine said cheerfully. “We can take care of cooking for the group!” She tailed Mydei as he opened the fridge, seeing what they had to work with.

Sadly, there was nothing familiar about the ingredients within. There were a variety of cuboids of varying colors and materials, but none of them seemed very appealing. The healer took out what appeared to be a block of compacted noodles, noting its surprising heaviness.

“You…you eat this?” She wondered, with marginally less excitement than before. She quickly backtracked, not wanting to offend. “I mean, I’m sure they contain adequate nutrition. I just expected, with how similar we appear as species, that our diet would be comparable as well…”

She reached deeper into the fridge and pulled out a flask of something that could be either a gas or a liquid, depending on how hard she shook it. Truly, the non-Newtonian substances of one’s dreams.

“Perhaps Professor Anaxa should take a look at these,” she concluded.

It’s Anaxagoras, you mindless louts!

The two heroes affectionately reminisced about the professor’s most famous protest.

“We don’t actually consume the raw materials.” The older man paused for a second. “Actually, Stelle might have, but we aren’t supposed to.”

He gestured for the duo to follow him back to the parlor, stopping before a strange spherical machine. Welt placed several pieces of solid water and protein packs in the machine, selected a bowl of cosmic fried rice, and retrieved his dish when it made a pleasant ding. He sheepishly offered the rice to his wide-eyed tag-alongs.

The prince held up a hand. “I’m alright.”

Hyacine did indeed try the rice, finding it to be a pleasant surprise. Those alien ingredients managed to make a decent, if slightly bland-tasting dish. “It’s not bad!”

“I would much rather make the food from scratch,” Mydei stated. “We have the implements for doing so; we just lack ingredients.”

“It’s too bad that we’re stuck here for who knows how long. I do wonder if we can ask that fairy for provisions, since she is the one who organized things.” The healer adjusted one of her twin tails. “Umm, Mem? Excuse me!”

The summoning call, to her faint shock, did work. The pink fairy fluttered before her.

“Hello, Hyacine!”

“Ah- hello,” she stammered. “Is it possible for you to create some food within this ‘dreamscape,’ please?”

She pondered the idea. “Hmmm…yes, I could! That would take a while to set up, as I have to take into account that it would have to be chemically broken into smaller components. Give me a couple of hours! And speaking of amenities, there are a couple of additional things to take care of...”

“Thank you, Mem!”

Once the fairy was gone, Mydei turned to the other man, dipping his head minutely. “We appreciate the Astral Express’s hosting, but having my food made like that is just not for me.”

“I understand,” Welt reassured. “In fact, it’s quite the honor to have a home-cooked meal for once. I should be thanking you two for the service.”

…

Phainon and March, meanwhile, had gone to address the sleeping situation. The fairy had not given them a concrete timeline for their stay aboard the train, but considering that the chrysos heirs could live for thousands (yes, thousands!) of years, they believed the process would take several weeks at least.

The express did not contain enough rooms for everyone, even with Dan Heng choosing the archives for himself. She also did not wish for their guests to take transitory spaces like the dining room or parlor, as Pom-pom and Shush would often move about all night. It was a bit too open and lackadaisical.

March decided that Stelle’s room would have to fall victim. After the refurbishments, she had the largest place by far. so she had to take the fall here.

The archer searched the expansive space while the warrior poked around curiously. The squeaking of a door could be heard as she bent over to look under the bed critically.

“What a nice bath!” he exclaimed, checking out the wide array of bath salts that lined the tub. “Stelle must have quite the routine.”

“If by routine you mean making potions in the tub, then you would be correct! One time I came into her room- the bedroom, not even the bathroom, mind you- and the unholy concoction she created in there knocked me out!”

He simply chuckled. “Fun…”

She got up and began to open all of the drawers around.

“What are you searching for?”

“Before we cleaned out this place, it used to be a storage. I know for a fact that not everything was moved away, so they must have some spare sheets or something stuffed in a corner.”

As if on cue, she threw open a large dresser. Over a dozen mattresses were cramped within, the dust of the wood accompanied by a burst of pink. The sheer density of them could not have possibly fit into one dresser- it defied common sense. Yet somehow, conveniently, there was now enough for all of the chrysos heirs and trailblazers to claim their own.

“...well, would you look at that,” Phainon exclaimed. “We’ve got our mattresses. I think I see covers and sheets crammed toward the bottom, too.”

March was certain that they didn’t have so many extra mattresses in Stelle’s room, let alone the perfect number for the additional passengers. She looked at Phainon, who was smiling brightly at her. One could almost imagine perked ears and a wagging tail behind him.

An ominous creaking noise began to resound from the furniture before her.

Maybe she was just confusing herself- it happens often! And besides, Stelle was difficult to predict. She attempted to smuggle a living trash can aboard the express once, and would have probably succeeded had Himeko walked in upon the thing trying to break out while spewing strange limericks.

The force of the beds finally became too much, and all of the pressurized stuff sprang out, directly at her.

Yeah, she thought as she put her arms out and received a falling mattress in a full-body tackle, this is normal.

“Miss March, are you alright?!”

March Seventh exhaled silently from her half-buried position under the bedding. A faint specter left her body from her lips.

“Her soul is escaping, oh dear-” He tried to grab onto the steam, but it simply dissipated between his fingers.

“...don’t worry,” she croaked. “It’s just cold air.”

…

“Sunday, was there something you wished to tell me?”

The halovian opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. “No, it’s- never mind. I am likely just overthinking.”

“If there is anything that concerns you, we are here to listen,” Himeko said. “You are just as much a part of the express as anyone else.”

He nodded shyly, but didn’t say anything else.

Everyone eventually came back to the parlor, where they had met. They formed a collection of cushions, chairs, and couches, arranging them in a large circle. A fluffy carpet was placed on the floor in anticipation of a long, long debrief. Though they had introduced themselves, the heroes still understood little about the wider world. The sights, factions, and wonders were all new to them, and they wanted to absorb these unfamiliar realities with thirsty fervor.

The most ambitious of them in this department, the Grove Scholar, returned with Dan Heng in tow. They took the role of choosing the basics by which to explain the universe to an audience who waited with bated breath- wonderstruck figures in the cave, finally turned to the light. He walked in front of them, clacking his shoes together and placing his arms behind his back.

“The universe can be envisioned in multiple different ways. Geniuses have ascribed several primary descriptions to try and uncover its true nature: an infinitely expanding pocket of activity within a plane of unreality, a consciousness that exists by means of its own id, or a page containing an imaginary tree of infinite branches, from which all the possibilities of the future are drawn in on the canvas of time. Whichever theory mirrors reality closest, ultimately, does not matter. We are looking toward what lies within the known universe, and most of the powerful factions within it align themselves with aeons. Aeons are, essentially, higher-dimensional entities that represent concepts beyond the understanding of mortal minds,” Anaxa explained. “At least, so the sources claim. Frankly, I believe that decrying anything as ‘beyond understanding’ is the tell-tale phrase of the ignorant.”

“Nous mindset,” Stelle quipped. March shushed her.

Dan Heng cleared his throat. “You may very well be right to feel that way, but I hope to affirm that they are nothing like the titans upon your home planet, which mere humans can slay. Aeons can only fall to other aeons.”

Tribbie raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Tribbie?”

“I was speaking to Lady Himeko, and she told us that Amphoreus may be of special interest to certain aeons,” the first demigod noted. “And since we are involved, could we be informed of which of these strange gods have an interest in our world, and what they represent?”

Mem suddenly poofed back into existence, interrupting the flow of conversation. She appeared to take stock of everyone’s presence. The sight of so many seats and cushions congregated in the parlor made her break out in a grin.

“Wow, we have a group of real go-getters here,” she said happily. “I didn’t even have to call everyone together to chat. You took care of that already- oh, how much you all spoil me!” She somehow managed to convey the idea of a flattered blush, despite being adorned with fur.

“It is nice to see you again, Mem,” Aglaea greeted. “Is there something you wish to impart to us?”

“Aglaea, Aglaea, straight to the point!” she chittered. “But correct. I wish to show you your future, and have prepared a construct for this purpose. It can also attune to your thoughts and your communication devices. And since everyone is discussing the topic of aeons, this could provide a more…immersive experience.”

She snapped, allowing a massive screen to appear in front of the group. Several gasps and hums of appreciation followed. Pleased, she disappeared, allowing them to take in the full glory of what would serve as the conduit to her logs. “As I have written,” it shall no longer be.

“Right where did we leave out…?” Dang Heng murmured to himself. “Right, the interferences within Amphoreus.”

On the curved surface, an image appeared, capturing the interest of everyone in the audience. The archivist stepped aside, allowing them to have an unobstructed view.

And what a sight it was! The screen displayed an inexplicable entity so large that it dwarfed the very stars and solar systems around it, a shadowed figure surrounded by circus props. The center of the figure was made up of drama masks, painted faces smiling and sneering and crying as multi-layered laughter echoed from the backdrop. A party horn went off like a dying cry.

“Since we aren’t exactly sure which aeons are involved, I suppose it would be prudent to start from the beginning.”

Chapter Text

“Aha, the elation,” the screen spoke, its voice sounding unnervingly similar to one proud, gray-haired genius. A description slotted on the side of the image, reading the following:

To savor joy is a privilege unique to sentient beings. Neither the dusty rocks nor the distant stars can fathom the humor that life entails. Go seek adversaries worthy of your mettle, games that while away the hours, and outcomes indifferent to victory or defeat. Go chase laughter that leaves you breathless, twists born of fate's whimsy, and songs that ascend your soul.

“That noise it made at the end,” Cipher laughed. “Oh, I love this one!”

“I don’t know…” Hyacine muttered. “I find them a bit discomforting.”

“Apparently, they once spent a while pretending to be a passenger of the express, only to blow up half the train for kicks,” Stelle noted. “When Herta had me run the Simulated Universe to learn more about these gods, Aha was the very first Aoen I had encountered. They were self-aware within the simulation and very quickly realized I was not Akivili.”

“Never mind, that is pretty discomforting,” Cipher corrected. “A self-aware intelligence within what was meant to be a…? Err, what is the correct term?”

“Program, I think,” Tribbie said.

“I could hardly conceptualize it,” Phainon added.

“There are two primary factions that tread the path of Elation,” Herta continued. “That being the Mourning Actors and the Masked Fools. The former is composed of a group that opposes Aha’s principles, yet they, in their whimsy, have cursed them with power; they are composers of tragedies and sorrows, but the performers all the same. The Masked Fools, on the other hand, are a group that believes existence to be one great cosmic joke. Everything is meaningless and without end, so laughter is a simple solution.”

“Imparting one’s path onto those who despise you most…how ironically cruel.”

Aglaea nodded gravely at Mydei’s words. “I wonder if such a being could even comprehend the evil inherent within such actions- for an Aeon of laughter, perhaps they only see the irony.”

“Or perhaps cruelty is the point,” Castorice said.

“We have encountered several Masked Fools in our travels,” Dan Heng added. “They are certainly rather…extreme…in their actions to pursue personal whimsy. It’s hard to establish a trend with only two examples, but so far, they have shown themselves to be lackadaisical, unbound by laws or gender norms, and conduct themselves in a way that makes people underestimate them.”

A video of Sampo selling a cursed artifact to Oti Alfalfa with a finger over his lips played. The video changed to show Sparkle implanting bombs onto the Radiant Feldspar. Multiple people grimaced at the sight of her.

“Everything to do with Aha feels layered with a certain kind of madness,” Stelle affirmed. “From the Aeon to their followers.”

“The aeons may be inherently terrifying in their scope and power, but not every path is so subversively disturbing as Elation," Dan Heng said. "They come with their own pros, cons, and quirks. In my opinion, the paths of Beauty and Trailblaze are taken with comparatively laudable appreciation for the universe and all it begets.”

“Idrila, the beauty.”

There is beauty in a stretch of fabric, in the lines of a poem, and in a few notes in a song — Welcome to an era where the idea of 'beauty' is absolutely worthless! How vulgar! How hopeless! How sad!

“I don’t know what the author is on,” Aglaea said testily. “This ‘plight’ of theirs rings hollow. Seeking beauty within everything is commendable, for there is worth in all that makes up our world.”

“Of course you would attach yourself so quickly to the embodiment of vanity.”

She elegantly shifted her leg to step on Anaxa’s foot.

“I wish that we could behold the visage of beauty itself,” the maiden of death spoke, “why is there no image on the screen? Does that have to do with the subjectivity of such an ideal?”

Welt shook his head. “No, it does not. Most likely, the source logs simply do not contain an image of Idrila. There is little chance to acquire such now, unfortunately, as they have been confirmed missing in the best-case scenario.”

“Idrila has two dedicated factions, which both, interestingly enough, possess diverging opinions on the fate of their Aeon. The Knights of Beauty abide by a stringent code of chivalry and pursue personal refinement, tempering themselves to better embody their virtue and tempering the souls of many worlds with songs of Idrila. The Mirror Holders, meanwhile, are a series of wanderers who strive to unite the conception of beauty across said worlds. While the Knights believe beauty to be missing, the Mirror Holders believe them dead.”

“Dead…so then, would they have been killed by another aeon?”

Stelle shrugged at the small demigod’s question. “Supposedly, yes. But who really knows which one it was, or what really happened? All that remains are their pathstriders, pursuing the echo of what had once been.”

A video of Argenti blessed the screen, and a couple of murmurs floated around praising his dashing looks and polished armor. Those murmurs died a quick death when he started praising a potted plant as if they were alive.

“No one can say he isn’t dedicated to the act,” Phainon commented, his gaze flickering between the plant on screen and its real-life counterpart in the corner of the room.

Tribbie raised her hand. “Question, again! The terms ‘paths' and 'path striders' have been mentioned a couple of times now, and although I can infer how they are used, it would be nice to be sure. So what, exactly, is a pathstrider?”

“A pathstrider refers to someone or something that closely aligns with a path- that is, the will of an aeon,” Welt explained. “In rare cases, pathstriders may become elevated to emanators. Emanators are those who receive power directly granted by the Aeons. They are infinitely more powerful than regular people, with many being capable of annihilating entire planets singlehandedly.”

“That kind of power is difficult to imagine,” Mydei said, grimacing, “Even the calamity titans are not capable of such widespread destruction. How does one defend against threats of that magnitude?”

“Resist, or die trying.”

To accentuate Stelle’s statement, another person appeared onscreen. Acheron stood alone at the event horizon of a black hole, tears of blood streaming from her lashes. She reached into the hilt of her sword and, with a single swing, cleaved the gravity singularity into pieces. The stars being swirled into the abyss dispersed with violent streaks of light.

Exclamations of awe and horror accompanied the magnificent sight.

“Not everyone falls so solidly into the categories, however, just as people rarely embody the traits of only one aeon. There are also pseudo-emanators, which stand in between the two in terms of strength.”

The projection displayed Aventurine‘s transformation floating in the skies of Penacony, laughing as thousands of coin constructs rained down around him, before a scarlet slash split him into two. The Harmonius Choir Septimus waved his conductor’s wand, his every act sending angels down upon the trailblazing group. Fortunately for them, a train came skidding in from the stars, straight into his gilded form.

Sunday shuffled in his seat.

“So that’s what we looked like from the ground,” Himeko mused.

As though deeming their commentary sufficient, a new image appeared before them. A supercomputer floated within space, bearing a singular red light, pipes, and strands of wires trailing from their neck like blood vessels. They simply existed within that void, forever calculating, extrapolating, and evolving.

“Nous, the erudition.”

Anaxa sat up.

If the truth of the universe is cruel and stale, would you still yearn for the answer to the ultimate question? Knowledge seekers know not how to judge, for their core is cold and unwavering...as are the ends of paths they set out to seek.

“This one does not seem so positive…just who is writing these descriptions?” Sunday asked.

- Adrian Spencer Smith wrote this specific passage. Quotes are gathered from across the Herta Space Station logs by AI prompting.

“Ah.”

“The primary face of erudition is composed of the Genius Society and the Intelligentsia Guild. People from all walks of life are capable of joining the Society, as its members are specifically selected by Nous themself. They find the brightest minds among mortals, of which there are currently eighty-four, and grant them the position of being a part of this organization. Here is a list of notable geniuses and their achievements.”

Society #1 Zandar One Kuwabara: I don’t exactly know what he has done, but he was the first of all of us. That must mean something, right?

Society #4 Polka Kakamond: A mysterious figure who had destroyed every existing depiction of herself. She ensures that the universe remains determinable and knowable, thereby preventing the onset of Finality, and as a result, killed many geniuses in her time.

Society #22 Aiden: Creator of the nine-worded formulae that reshaped traditional algebra and theorized about the knowledge singularity.

Society #27 Rupert I: Creator of the Anti-Organic Equation and instigator of the Mechanical Emperor's Wars, an extermination based on the premises that organic beings are inherently flawed and hold little value.

“Oh, how scary…to think that machines, ones like our simple teleslates, could grow to percieve, understand, and hate…” Hyacne shivered.

Society #64 Dr. Primitive: An intergalactic criminal known most for his atavistic experiments. He has constructed multiple powerful curios that were discovered on Device IX’s dark web.

“Dark web…?” Castorice echoed.

Society #66 Rupert II: The successor of the Anti-Organic Equation and instigator of the Second Mechanical Emperor's War. Rupert II created the celestial-level computational interference devices, also known as the Scepter system, to complete extrapolations on his behalf.

Society #76 Screwllum: The intellitron monarch of a planet. Screwllum contributed to the code of both the Simulated and Divergent Universe projects and is responsible for the underlying logic and algorithm of the simulation. He actively opposes Rupert I’s will.

Society #81 Ruan Mei: A biologist who successfully brought the dead back to life; she had managed to create a synthetic emanator of the propagation Skarabaraz and cultured the protoplasm for the Aeons in the Simulated Universe Project.

Society #83 Herta: Researcher who solved the solitary waves theory, the Spark Model hypothesis, and the imaginary leakage phenomenon. She also found the Sigma Baryons conversion method, invented anti-aging technology, and developed the Herta Sequence. She is the leader of the Simulated Universe Project.

Society #84 Stephen Lloyd: Participant of the Simulated Universe Project.

“Geez, she really is adding everyone who worked on the SU. I don’t even know what Stephen has done except for this, no offense. He’s the newest genius, and doesn’t have that many feats yet, but he’s still here over some of the other ones.”

“The description of the Genius Society and its members is rather lengthy as well,” Algaea commented. “I doubt that any of us isolated bystanders of the universe would be able to understand the magnitude of these figures’ feats, as you would say. What little we can do is quite unsettling in nature. I wonder if this summary was made with someone in mind.”

“Now, you must be wondering why I have spent so long reviewing the feats of these geniuses.” The recording paused to let the information sink in, and then proceeded. “That is simply because the Society is the best faction. I, Madam Herta, can very well ascertain this fact.”

“So our current narrator is a genius…” Castorice noted. “And quite an egotistical one to boot. At least this lends to us getting more information, though we may have to watch out for bias.”

“The Intelligentsia Guild, in contrast, serves as an open academic organization who accepts all who seek knowledge. Their goal is to serve as a bastion of mutual learning among many divergent schools of thought.”

A short recording of Dr. Ratio played onscreen. The lecturer listened to a student’s question, and upon the end of their sentence, picked up a piece of chalk and nailed her in the forehead with pinpoint precision.

“He is dressed like a native of Amphoreous,” Hyacine noted. “How strange. It’s natural for certain culture’s to develop similar styles, but this leans into uncanny territory.”

“Zero Points!” A void ranger was hit in the face. “Mediocre!” A heliobus was trapped within a cage. “You fail, get out!” Everyone who had studied at the grove flinched as a constructed beam of plaster crushed the enemy. The effects of college never really wear off.

Phainon squinted at Ratio, purposefully avoiding the gaze of the mint-haired man to his left. He deliberated whether to ask the question for several seconds before giving in.

“Are all Erudition pathstriders like that?”

“What are you implying,” his teacher said flatly.

“Nothing whatsoever! Unless, you are implying that there is some implication to be found?”

Anaxagoras turned away, arms crossed.

Static appeared over the projection before fading into pure black. Words appeared within the inky darkness: No image found.

“Akivili, the trailbaze.”

“It’s us!” March cheered. Stelle clapped as their patron Aeon was announced, and Himeko laughed lightly at their mirth.

Countless shooting stars streak across the night sky... If you can pick the right one, it will carry your wish to thousands of distant worlds.

“How delightful!” Tribbie said. “I think this will be my favorite. Going outside, traversing the unknown, spreading yourself to see new places…it is a prelude to a wider tomorrow.”

“There is only one faction that follows the trailblaze, and they are known as the Nameless,” Herta announced, her voice no warmer for her space station’s close allies. "Originally, they were the aeon’s traveling companions, exploring all that the stars had to offer and leaving behind their tracks, moving ever outward. Their current faction continued to carry out the legacy and path of their forebearers once they and their Aeon disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Their rails are used to this day.”

“Of all the Aoens, it is said that Akivili was the closest to humans,” the red-haired woman said. “They dined and celebrated and struggled alongside us, collecting legends all the way.”

“How wonderous…” Phainon marveled. “The universe is such a large place. They must have borne witness to so many lifetimes’ worth of legends.”

When he had first left his village, the city-states of Amphoreous had seemed so expansive and limitless. Coming aboard the express and learning about these foreign gods and people felt much the same. Before him was an endless sky, and the possibilities were numerous as the stars in the sky. It was almost enough to leave a man in tears.

“So this is what Aquila had barred us from,” Hyacine whispered. She seemed to be feeling some conflicting emotions. It must not be easy to imagine herself inheriting those oppressive wings.

Castorice, taking any opportunity she can, patted the other girl on the back.

“Lan, the hunt.”

A lux arrow streaked through the skies, accompanied by a sound similar to an airship tearing through the atmosphere. Wheels screeched, strings stretched, and a figure made of what looked like light, energy, and armor rose onto their hind legs, bow pointed towards the heavens.

With no end to hate and no boundaries to war, how much concern do you shoulder? With determined eyes and the arrow drawn, the Reignbow Arbiter needs not turn back hither.

Dan Heng clasped his hands together with a sigh.

“To me, Lan feels like one of the simpler aeons, like the storybook depiction of a valiant prince” Stelle stated. “Their path is narrow and concentrated on little except the destruction of another path, so to speak. You can say that they rose to prominence for that purpose and that purpose alone, so they aren’t so powerful among the ranks of divinity.”

“I think they're a really cool aeon! Every pathstrider we’ve met has been a good experience, and that’s not such an easy benchmark!” The pink-haired archer added.

Mydei made a hmmm-ing noise.

“This one’s lower half resembles a mighty steed,” the healer pointed out cheerfully. She pet the little creature within her lap. “You see this, Ica? You could be as magnificent as Lan someday?”

“Doot-doot!”

It was so cute.

“The two main factions of the hunt are the Xainzhou Alliance and the Galaxy Rangers. The first, which sail on an airfaring mothership known as the Xainzhou Luofu, are a massive population of multiple species gathered together in an interstellar society, traveling from world to world to hunt the undead creations of abundance.”

The healer’s pigtails bounced as refocused upon the screen. “Different species, they said. I’ve wanted to ask this for a while, but this would be the best opportunity.” She took out a scroll. You are all human, right? Or at least, fitting into the bounds of what would qualify- certainly, no one here is a dromas.”

“Himeko would qualify as a baseline human, Welt could be considered as ascended, March is assumed to be human, Stelle is Stelle, Sunday is a Halovian, and I am a vidyadhara: a draconic descendent of Long.” Dan Heng listed.

Hyacine inquired further into what the differences in those classification meant, and jotted down their species-specific abilities.

Ages of the Astral Express crew members:

Stelle: 3 or ~23 (two numbers, for some reason?)

March: ~22 (defrosted on March 7th. What??)

Welt: 82 (age stalled due to herscherr abilities. Note: ask what a herscherr is later.)

Himeko: 35

Sunday: 28 (species ability: telepathy, mental tuning.)

Dan Heng: ~700 (species ability: hydrokinesis, shapeshifting. Functional immortality via rebirth cycle.)

Now she was even more confused.

“Rebirth seems useful!” Tribbie exclaimed. “Us demigods can live for millenia, but doing so can make us privy to a slow and natural erosion. Wiping away old memories in lieu of new ones could be a much better alternative.”

Dan Heng’s face did a funny spasm. “It comes with its own issues.”

“The galaxy rangers, despite being described as a second faction, are a group of loosely interconnected individuals who seek to enforce justice through individual acts," Herta continued. "After encountering Genius #64, Doctor Primitive, they faded into relative obscurity.”

“There are still galaxy rangers around!” March refuted. “We’ve met two, and Boothill helped me during the memetic takeover of Penacony! He’s a very nice man.”

Rappa leaped through the high-rise buildings with her paint-splatted shuriken, striking down monkey’s wherever she went. Boothill stood atop a high spire, Tiernan’s relic pointed to the sky as dozens of shooting stars sailed past, brilliant lights shining his fellow rangers. Both of them were the same; singular entities among the vast expanse of space, pursuing vengeance against their targets for what once had been.

Doctor Primitive of the Genius Society.

Oswaldo Schneider of the Interastral Peace Corporation.

“They are…deeply respectable,” Mydei spoke, with some gravitas. “They may be solitary in their pursuits, but to place justice on such a level, moving against the flow of the sea to achieve their goals…such is a warrior’s honor.”

The deliverer nodded in agreement.

“The Interastral Peace Corporation…we haven’t heard of that faction yet. But if you Nameless have a positive impression of the rangers, and the rangers are enemies of that corporation, then that would not bode too well for our prospects with them, would it?”

“They’re a mixed bag, for sure.” As someone who personally dealt with Aventurine, the gray-haired trailblazer could make that claim.

“What is the point in thinking so ahead, Castorice?” the prince huffed. “We haven’t even claimed Aquila’s coreflame yet, let alone ushered in the Era Nova that would open us to the stars. One foot in front of the other, that is how we must move forward. There is no need to stress about the distant future.”

“Moving forward step by step is how I have lived for a long time, and I would not consider that life meaningful. Your advice is more fitting for a soldier on an active battlefield.” Castorice tilted her head. “I want to believe that we will be able to break that barrier soon enough. We have…help from the Astral Express. And if not that, since they are by no means obligated to deliver us to freedom, then at least we have foresight.”

“We will help you,” the navigator encouraged, smiling softly.

Aglaea accepted the statement with a fold of her hands and a bow.

“We are in your debt.”

Zzzzt.

“Yaoshi, the abundance.”

A pale, veiled being in flowing robes sat upon a throne of branches and vines, their six hands held around them in a cradle of divinity. Horns resembling that of a deer sprouted from their cranium and dark stripes ran through their body, a clashing red-green pupil watching from every opening within them. Of all the aeons shown thus far, this one was the most “human” in terms of presentation.

The flowers share their petals without care, waiting for their inevitable withering destiny. The birds fly high in song, moving toward their inevitable crash and death. The streams flow rapidly with life, in a direction where they inevitably run dry. Why must all things come to an end? There must be a miracle somewhere in the universe that can cure the disease known as finality.

“Finality again,” Anaxa muttered. “The records regarding them are lacking, at least in your database, yet so many paths seem tied to it.”

“It is widely considered the antithesis of the trailblaze,” Welt noted. “I have more experience with ‘finality,’ in a sense, but I do not know if I can definitively cast judgement. The world I had come from, at least from my own experience and that of people I have met throughout my travels, serves as somewhat of a microcosm of the universe, so that embodiment may only be accurate to a certain degree.”

A white-haired warrior sat upon the couch, quietly joking around with March. Welt could very well imagine him as the deliverer of his world, but it was too soon to voice his suspicions and burden the other with a life not yet lived. He could only pray that he would not meet the fate of a Khaslana.

“Fascinating. You must tell me about it in depth.”

The rest of the train was abuzz, chatting about the aeon’s beauty and elegance. There was some bias to be found when it came to beautiful beings, even if they were among foreign pantheon. If only Idrila had a face, how captivating they would be!

“There are three major factions following the steps of Yaoshi: The denizens of abundance, the scattered elixir seekers, and the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus. The denizens are immortal species who have been blessed by their aoen and freed from earthly suffering, and as a result sing praises of them far and wide. They lose their minds to the endless stretch of time, with worship and the extermination of all who defile the aeon’s name alone binding them in camaraderie. Meanwhile, elixir seekers trail after them, forsaking all responsibility and ethics to attain immortality for themselves”

Hyacine made a noise. “I really did think this one was going to have better outcomes. After all, an aeon of abundance, which seeks to preserve life and erase suffering is about as ‘good’ a motivation a transcendent being can have, isn’t there?”

“It sounds nice, I don’t deny that. But many gods don’t understand the ways their power, their will, and even their presence can affect tiny little mortal lives.” Stelle looked to the side. “I suppose I can’t complain, as I have been gazed on by multiple aoens, and it has never ended poorly for me! But…the same really can’t be said for others.”

After all, those touched by the abundance became abominations. Mara grew within the bodies of those who lived for long periods of time, turning civilized men into monsters.

“The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus was originally a benign group of worshippers, but their name had been co-opted to by more decisive actors who had attempted to revive the ambrosial arbor within the Xianzhou Luofu following the Third War of Abundance. This plot turned out to be the machinations of Lord Ravager Phantylia, and was stopped with the help of the Astral Express.”

All eyes turned their way. March, seeing that she was among the subjects of attention, waved cheerily to their new friends.

Tribbie started clapping.

“Yay for the Astral Express!” she cheered. “You guys managed to save the Luofu, didn’t you? How awesome is it that we’re getting to meet heroes!”

“We aren’t heroes…” the gray-haired woman said, obviously preening. “But if you wanna call us that, I won’t really feel bad at all.”

“Might as well take the compliment once, hehe.” March poked her cheek. “They’ll probably never say it again after your peacocking.”

The two girls engaged in a miniature slap fight.

“But seriously…three wars of abundance, as Miss Herta described…” Cipher’s tail thrashed around the pillows. “We really have missed out on a lot of the going-ons in the great vast expanse, haven’t we?”

“It’s only natural,” Hyacine laughed. “We have much to catch up to. Aren’t you looking forward to that?”

The cat burglar was silent for a moment.

“Nah, sounds like a biiiiit too much work. I’m an old codger, I’m not built for so much learning! And besides, there were so many terms in that description that I don’t know, or have just learned. A thief’s greatest strength is in their familiarity of their surroundings, in their prescience.”

“So you’re nervous, and don’t wait to admit it.”

“Pshh, what are you talking about?”

“Little Ciphy…”

She quailed a bit under Tribbie’s disapproval. “Fine, fine, I am nervous. But it’s not only beause of these new factions or people. Rather, it’s this situation itself that alarms me.”

The small demigod stuck a finger in her mouth in thought, her expression slightly confused. She must be thinking about what could Cipher would be worried about when the crew had been so kind. She had always been the type to focus more on the people, and although none could rival her in judgement of character, she tended to miss obvious cues sometimes.

“Think about it, everyone,” she announced. “We have been so pre-occupied with how we got here and what is out there-” she pointed toward the sight of stars beyond the window- “that we’ve never asked why. So tell me, Mem, why were we all brought here to see the future? What circumstance necessitated such a drastic measure!?”

The pink fairy was summoned upon her call, but she did not answer her question. The answer would be revealed in time anyway. Far be it for her to ruin everybody’s viewing early and cause undue hostility between the Chrysos heirs and Astral Express before they’ve gotten close enough. The express have to get to the point where they could exhibit empathy for something as catastrophic as a lord ravager. Because for Mem- no, for Cyrene, that man was her friend, her family, her counterpart. This was her justice.

If Phainon, who was created for hate, could so love those people beside him, then she, who was created to love, can also learn to hate. She would rage on his behalf and her own against Lygus for the experiments extrapolations, and against the shattered luminflux for forcing her to rewrite the story over and over again. She would create a loop within a loop within a loop, all for the sake of a satisfactory conclusion. That first genius, if nothing else, taught her patience.

“I knew it,” the thief crowed, sickly trimph in her eyes. “Then the worst case scenario must have occurred. What was it? The failure of the Dawn Device? Oh, perhaps the Black Tide finally swallowed every last one of us! Or- ! Or, something even worse befell Amphoreous, something that we do not even have the foreknowledge to comprehend.”

“Cipher, that is enough,” Aglaea commanded.

“We will see what happens. There is no need to force a confrontation, as much as you want to,” Anaxa added sourly.

Ah, I stole the Great Performer’s role, she thought as she forced her ears to unflatten from her hood. He probably stayed his cutting words, and I decided to push the subject despite his restraint.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m concerned. And I feel as though I can’t do anything but go along with the flow.”

“...Us too. We’re worried. But within the dream, it’ll be okay. We’re safe here. So as of now…”

Stelle extended a hand to her.

“We can afford to be lighthearted, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah! You’re right, meow”

From outside the scene, Phainon suddenly winced as his wrist brushed the blade resting beside him. In his distraction, he had accidentally rested his arm against his sword. He couldn’t really help but be distracted though- everything was just so interesting, and it was easy to get swept along. The warrior sucked the blood off the cut, letting go with a lick for good measure.

Stelle, somehow, managed to catch him in the act, teeth just leaving the glimmering golden tear in his skin. A frown marred her playful mien. But in the next second that discontent was gone, and she went back to her casual conversation.

Curious.