Chapter Text
“You’re awake?”
Sensing something blocking the light above him, Akivili rubbed his eyes and woke. The stranger’s face in his vision gradually became clear.
Who am I? Where am I?
As his consciousness returned, his memories followed.
About three cosmic hours earlier, Akivili had argued with Aha. The reason was that Akivili was extremely dissatisfied with Aha’s behavior during their last adventure—not only standing aside, but occasionally stirring up small troubles just to amuse himself.
As a result, although the ending had remained within controllable limits, their numbers had still been reduced by half. If Aha hadn’t caused mischief—or had stepped in to resolve a few incidents—the adventure should have received a higher evaluation. A happy ending for all.
“I’ve had enough of your tricks! For the sake of amusement, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do!”
After leaving the planet where the adventure had taken place, Aha was still maintaining the previous fabricated identity—a female form acting as Akivili’s spouse. Of course, Akivili had been highly uncooperative.
Aha’s exquisitely beautiful female face looked unconcerned, smiling as always. “Believe me. If I had interfered, not only would the ending not have been any better, even the process would have lost much of its fun.”
“Ah~ Akivili, you’re really like a parent who dotes too much on a child. I think it’s about time you changed your habit of handling everything personally. It’s not your train anymore. There’s no need for you to worry. You need to learn to respect mortal choices.”
Even though Akivili understood what Aha was saying, the lightness of his tone made it sound less like instruction and more like a clown bouncing across a theatrical stage. Akivili’s brow twitched, and irritation flared. That anger mixed perfectly with the resentment of being turned into Aha’s Emanator, being “supervised” by his incarnations during every Trailblaze, lacking private time, and having multiple requests denied.
“You don’t need to tell me that!”
Akivili shook off the arm Aha had draped over his shoulder, as if rejecting intimate contact.
The angrier Akivili became, the more Aha wanted to tease him. The imaginary female body leaned in deliberately, shaping itself into a perfect curve so that the soft chest pressed against Akivili’s front.
“Lili, why not come back to the tavern with me for a drink? My treat.” Aha acted coquettishly, slender fingers lightly tracing along Akivili’s jawline. The soft female voice brushed against his ear like velvet.
Wait.
Akivili suddenly sensed a trace of conspiracy and quickly stepped out of Aha’s sweet trap. He had almost been played again. Aha wasn’t reflecting at all. He was enjoying himself—and even planning the next round.
Seeing Akivili dodge away, Aha wrapped an arm around his waist and continued softly, “What’s wrong, dear? Still thinking about what happened before? Even mortals are capable of bearing the consequences of their own choices.”
“What do you mean their choices? You were meddling in it too!”
Akivili pushed against Aha’s shoulder and freed himself from his restraint.
Although he hadn’t used much force, Aha immediately performed an impromptu act of a domestic abuse victim, sitting down dramatically in the void, covering his left cheek, wiping at imaginary blood from the corner of his mouth.
The scene made Akivili look like a scumbag who hit women. If a Remembrance follower had happened to pass by, there would probably have been flashes from countless cameras by now.
“Ha ha ha ha ha.”
A sharp female laugh burst from Aha’s unclosing mouth. The once elegant face twisted grotesquely; the corners of his mouth stretched beyond human limits toward his eyes, which curved into crescent moons. The entire face became an indescribable distortion of madness, like an exaggerated mask of mockery.
“Ha—ha—ha! Do you want to play something else? I’ll take you—ha ha ha—Akivili, when you’re angry, pff—you look just like your little rabbit—ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Aha got bitten by the rabbit!”
Aha laughed so hard he could barely speak, his words breaking apart.
“No thanks. I don’t want to see you for a long time! Damn lunatic.”
“Don’t be like that, Akivili—heh heh heh—let’s talk it out—don’t leave Aha to play alone—wu~ ahahaha… rabbit!”
Aha was laughing himself insane. Taking advantage of the moment, Akivili detected a massive microwave magnetic storm forming hundreds of light-years away. To shake Aha off, Akivili first kicked him hard, sending the still-laughing Aeon flying hundreds of light-years in the opposite direction. Then he flashed into the eye of the magnetic storm, where information flow was cut off, evading Aha’s tracking and waiting for the storm to carry him elsewhere.
“Damn you, Aha. I’m not your prisoner!”
Just before plunging into the center of the storm, he heard Aha’s voice once more.
“If you need help, call my name. I’ll hear you. Special treatment ❤️.”
Three cosmic hours later, the magnetic storm carried Akivili into an unknown star system. He sensed a civilized planet nearby and allowed himself to fall from space toward its surface.
As he passed through the atmosphere, he clearly felt a thin membrane wrapped around the planet. In the past, while blazing new routes, Akivili would occasionally shatter Qlipoth’s barriers during warp jumps.
Passing through this planet’s foreign covering gave him the same sensation—it was power originating from Preservation.
Curious, Akivili adjusted his posture midair, back toward the ground, face toward the sky, carefully observing the planet’s peculiarities.
An amber membrane clung outside the atmosphere, blocking true sight. Even Akivili’s gaze could not fully penetrate it to see the real starry sky beyond.
However, the membrane was not perfectly sealed. A crack over ten kilometers wide lay not far to his left. Compared to the amber film, the pitch-black starry sky beyond the fissure looked completely out of place.
If someone had deliberately set up this Preservation barrier, then the outer space beyond must hold too many unknown dangers for this planet.
From the ground, the falling Akivili looked like a burning meteor, dragging an orange-red tail across the sky. He struck the surface, smashing a large crater.
Fortunately, though his body appeared mortal, it was actually formed from Imaginary energy. His true mortal flesh had long since been blown apart the moment he ascended to Aeonhood.
“Damn Joy-bringer. That hurts.”
He muttered another curse, this time not daring to say the name aloud for fear of summoning Aha.
When Akivili fled, Aha had withdrawn most of the Path energy previously granted to him—like locking his black credit card. That was why what should have been a harmless landing nearly killed him.
Akivili gathered the pieces of his cracked body and welded them back together bit by bit with his remaining Imaginary energy.
After reconstructing himself, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep on the spot—unaware that he had landed directly on a battlefield where rebels were attacking government forces.
When he woke again, he saw a dirt-covered man and initially thought him some kind of wild native.
Thanks to the power of Trailblaze, communicating with locals posed no problem. Akivili heard the man asking with concern whether he was injured and if he could move, seemingly mistaking him for a comrade.
Before Akivili could ask who the man was, a shell exploded barely a dozen meters away. Smoke and flying soil turned the surrounding area into chaos. Gunfire and shouts rose and fell. The air was thick with gunpowder, earth, and blood.
“Get up! Follow me!”
The man’s anxious voice rang out again, soon swallowed by artillery fire. Confused, Akivili followed him through uneven trenches, dirt splattering onto his clothes.
“Mm!”
A dull pain throbbed beneath his flesh. He had been shot. But it did not stop him from escaping the crossfire.
A temporary camp stood a kilometer away.
“Hey kid, still alive? Not bad. You hurt?”
“N-no, not hurt.”
Instinctively concealing his difference, Akivili did not mention the bullet.
When no one was looking, he pressed his bloodless wound, used Imaginary energy to expel the bullet, and repaired both flesh and torn fabric.
After dealing with his body, he began observing his surroundings. The camp was small. Three main tents were marked as operating rooms. Lightly wounded soldiers gathered elsewhere, some sitting directly on the ground, some leaning against rocks or tree trunks. Some stared blankly; others groaned in pain.
The man who had brought him returned carrying a stretcher.
“Kid, give us a hand.”
Akivili glanced at the person on the stretcher. The bandages wrapped around her chest were soaked through with blood. Her breathing was faint. With each jolt of the stretcher, a half-centimeter jet of blood spurted outward under pressure—likely an artery.
“Press on her wound!” the man gasped, forcing each word out as clearly as he could.
Akivili immediately stepped forward, placing both hands firmly over the bleeding site as he followed the stretcher toward the surgical tent. Up close, the unconscious soldier—pale from blood loss—was just a girl, barely of age. Dried streaks of red still clung to her youthful, ashen face.
“Ma… ma…”
The girl murmured faintly, as if caught in some distant dream.
Even though Akivili had long since ascended—his mind and soul tempered and reshaped by divinity—he had retained most of his humanity. He did not see mortals as weeds to be trampled, nor regard all living things as disposable offerings. If he encountered suffering, he would help when he could. If someone could be saved, he would save them.
At her current rate of blood loss, it was uncertain whether she would even survive long enough to reach the operating table. Drawing upon what little Imaginary energy he had left, Akivili sealed the ruptured vessels one by one. The powers of Joy and Trailblaze were not as effective in mending mortal flesh as Abundance—but sustaining her through surgery would not be a problem.
The moment they set the stretcher down, the man barked another order.
“Kid! Kitchen’s short-handed. If you’re fine, go lend a hand.”
“Ah? Oh.”
Still not fully adjusting to the rhythm of events, Akivili followed the direction of the man’s pointing finger. Two women and a man were busy at the eastern side of the camp beside a roughly stacked stone stove.
Trailblazers rarely involved themselves in wars between planetary natives. He had likely been mistaken for logistics personnel. Akivili had originally intended to slip away while no one paid attention and explore elsewhere on his own.
But somewhere deep within his consciousness, a foreign voice seemed to whisper—warning him not to meddle.
At the moment, however, Akivili was in a stubborn mood. The more something told him not to act, the more he wanted to do the opposite. He decided to go along with the flow, integrate into the army first, and learn about the war firsthand.
He joined the others in preparing ingredients. There was little conversation; they worked in silent coordination. The smooth cooperation reminded him of the Nameless—whether during Trailblaze expeditions or aboard the train, they would cook together like family, laughing, chatting, comparing skills. The warmth of that atmosphere pulled him briefly into memory.
After his disappearance, the train had gradually vanished into the vastness of space. Mortal lifespans were fleeting; to Akivili, they were like morning dew awaiting the sun. The companions he once traveled with had long since passed.
Divinity restrained his humanity, preventing him from indulging in mortal melancholy. Even his understanding of death had shifted closer to that of an Aeon. Thus, when he remembered the past, it was with fondness—but without sorrow for those who were gone.
Come to think of it, over these millennia, the one who had accompanied him the longest… If Aha claimed second place, none would dare claim first.
Why am I thinking about Aha again?
Akivili shook his head and refocused on the task at hand.
There was no meat in the ingredient sacks—only native plants from this planet. He didn’t recognize them, so he discreetly observed how the others handled them before attempting it himself.
The main staple was a root vegetable about the size of two fists. Grasping the raised top, he tore away the dirt-covered skin with a sound like ripping paper. Inside was deep purple flesh, faintly fragrant. The texture was sticky and slick, difficult to hold.
It needed to be placed on a board and cut in half. A yellow-green sprout ran through the center; that had to be dug out and discarded.
Akivili secretly popped a piece into his mouth. It was mildly sweet at first, then turned bitter. A moment later, his tongue tingled as if struck by static. From his extensive experience sampling alien flora, he judged that the root contained mild toxins—harmless to him, but for mortals it could cause dizziness, cold sweats, or intestinal cramps.
“Don’t run! Get back here! Into the pot with you!”
An abrupt, discordant voice sounded from behind.
One of the women assisting in the kitchen was chasing a white animal—apparently hoping to add some protein to the meal.
For a moment, Akivili thought he heard someone calling him.
“Lili! Lili! He-help!”
Mr. Gugu Chicken?!
He reacted instantly, turning toward the fleeing white creature. There, Mr. Gugu Chicken was being held aloft by one wing, his two human-like legs scrambling in midair in a ridiculous sliding motion.
“Ah! What is this thing?!”
The woman finally looked closely at the “white chicken” making strange noises—and froze. The creature had two perfectly proportioned human legs attached to its small body. She screamed and flung the bizarre being away.
“Lili! Lili!”
Mr. Gugu Chicken flapped his slightly feather-shedding wings and flew toward Akivili, landing precisely atop his head. With theatrical flair, he conjured a black top hat out of thin air, spun it twice on his wingtip, and set it upon his feathery head. Then he produced a candy cane as a cane. Performance concluded, he bowed deeply, awaiting applause.
None came.
Instead, onlookers stared in stunned silence. One particularly brave soldier even picked up a stick, intending to knock the strange bird off Akivili’s head.
“Everyone, calm down. It’s not a monster—it won’t hurt anyone,” Akivili hurried to explain.
“What is it?” one soldier pressed cautiously.
“It’s… it’s my pet! His name is Mr. Gugu Chicken. He’s a kind of chicken. Uh… a mutated kind. He’s vegetarian!”
“I see…”
The explanation seemed sufficient. The soldiers relaxed, though occasional curious glances still drifted their way before everyone returned to work.
“Mr. Gugu Chicken! When did you start following me? Did that damned Joy-bringer send you to spy on me?!” Akivili muttered, scratching his head.
He usually got along well with Mr. Gugu Chicken—but under the circumstances, suspicion was unavoidable.
“A—”
Akivili moved quickly, clamping a hand over the bird’s beak before he could finish.
“Shh! Don’t say that lunatic’s true name—you’ll summon him.”
Lowering his voice, he added a warning.
“If you are his spy, I wouldn’t recommend handing you back to that lady so she can add some meat to the stew.”
After Mr. Gugu Chicken nodded, Akivili released him.
“A—pfft!”
The bird sneezed, conjured a white handkerchief, and politely dabbed his beak before hopping into Akivili’s hood to rest.
“Kid, you blend in fast. Heh.”
It was the same man from earlier, wiping grime from his hands as he approached.
“Toby Manchester. Everyone calls me Old Toby.”
“Akivili.”
They shook hands.
Old Toby gave him an appraising look and teased, “Not from around here, are you? Where’d you come from? Don’t tell me—you fell from the sky? Hahaha…”
Akivili frowned slightly.
Ordinarily, through the power of Trailblaze, he could arrive on a new planet without drawing attention—subtly distorting local perception so they would regard him as native.
Being exposed this easily was rare.
He remained silent.
Old Toby laughed and explained.
“I was there when we were digging trenches. That area had been surveyed—just empty wasteland. Then suddenly I spotted someone lying in a crater. Troops were stationed all around; no strangers had passed through. You just… appeared. Nearly scared me to death. Figured you either crawled out of the ground or fell from the sky. And there was that perfectly round impact crater around you. I didn’t dare touch you at first—didn’t know if you were dead or alive.”
“When the fighting was about to start, though, I couldn’t just leave you there. That was a crossfire zone. If you were alive, you’d be blown apart soon enough. So I brought you back. So? You really did fall from the sky?”
Akivili now understood how he had been exposed.
He did not deny it. Instead, he nodded.
“Whew, that’s one hell of a story. Good thing you’re built tough.”
Old Toby patted Akivili on the shoulder with a teasing grin—his tone practically implying that falling from such a height without any protective gear and surviving must have been nothing short of divine intervention.
“Uh… so what are you planning to do next?”
“I want to understand this planet’s civilization.”
Old Toby rubbed his chin, considering where to begin.
“See that sky up there?”
He pointed toward the expanse above them—a vivid blue unlike true night or sunrise, but closer to that suspended moment of dawn. If Akivili remembered correctly, ever since he had fallen to this planet, the sky had remained in this perpetual twilight state.
“Strange, isn’t it? That isn’t the real sky. It’s called the Canopy. It’s a membrane that wraps around our planet, built to shield us from the pulse energy prophesied to arrive twenty-three years later—an energy wave that would have killed every human on the surface.”
“This planet once received visitors from beyond the stars. The material for the Canopy was something they helped us find. They told us that on their way here, an asteroid fragment—called a Subspace Crystal Wall Shard—was drifting toward our system. It carried the power of Preservation, something capable of protecting us from disasters originating in space. So, with their assistance, our scientists captured that asteroid and used it to construct the Canopy suspended above us.”
“However, this planet has completed thirty full orbits around its star, and the pulse energy the scientists predicted never arrived. Because of the Canopy’s existence, the surface can barely receive stellar energy from space. As underground resources were gradually depleted, life became increasingly difficult. The first crisis to hit was food. Without sufficient sunlight, even growing crops requires consuming precious resources.”
“Under mounting public pressure, the government reluctantly opened a fissure in the Canopy. See? That one over there.”
Old Toby pointed toward the tear in the sky.
“Probes sent through confirmed that in those thirty years, no pulse energy impact had occurred. But according to their calculations, the pulse crisis still wasn’t over. That information was ‘accidentally’ leaked from the laboratory—and it sparked public outrage.”
“With survival growing harder, and resources controlled and distributed solely by the government, tensions escalated. Before long, civilians formed a resistance force, accusing the government of deceiving the people and demanding that the Canopy be dismantled so the true sky could be returned to humanity. The government refused—and instead began suppressing the resistance.”
“So more and more people, desperate simply to survive, joined the rebellion. Two years ago, the war officially broke out. The resistance even changed its name. Now… we call ourselves the Dawn Army.”
As he spoke, Old Toby tugged at the armband on his sleeve.
Akivili saw that the armband was predominantly blue, with a bright red semicircle at its center—symbolizing the Dawn Army bringing a true sunrise to a planet forever trapped in twilight.
Throughout the explanation, Akivili did not interrupt with a single question. He listened attentively as Old Toby finished describing the civilization of this world.
“…So,” Toby finally asked, unable to hold back, unsure whether the young man was simply quiet by nature or too stunned to respond, “what are you going to do now?”
“I plan to—”
I know what you’re thinking of doing. But I advise you not to.
The voice deep within his consciousness surfaced once more, attempting to interfere with his decision.
Akivili ignored it. Resolutely, he chose according to his own will.
“…I’ll follow you,” he said. “And witness the end of this war.”