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He Who Guides the Stars asked him, "Have you ever loved someone?"
He fell silent for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh.
…
He Who Never Reaches the End of the Cosmos once loved Him with every fiber of his being—He who scaled the boughs of the Tree of Existence, glimpsed the frigid silence of the universe, and burst into unbridled laughter at the cry of a newborn: Lord of Unceasing Mirth, the universally known Lord of Elation, Aha, one among the Aeons.
That he loved Him was no lie.
What wayfarer on the Path of Elation could help but adore the God of Mirth, who grants laughter to all beings in this world and lets every life exist with dignity even in the direst of straits? The Masked Fools often jest that their Aeon lacks dignity—He is not revered across the cosmos like the great Amber Lord Qlipoth, nor does He command the gaze of millions like Xipe the Mother of Stars. He cannot compare to Nous the Sovereign of Erudition or Lan the Edge of the Hunt, and even the merciful Yaoshi commands more respect than Aha. Yet even the Mourning Actors, who walk the path opposite to joy, will admit after wiping away their tears that Aha is a rare "mortal Aeon" among the gods, one willing to walk side by side with ordinary beings.
What reason, then, would Unreached—this Masked Fool—have not to love this mortal Aeon, who left those timeless words circulating among the pop stars of the Epsilon XII Galaxy: He will never give up on you, never let you down, never abandon you, never make you cry, never say goodbye, never hurt you with lies? Even without the odes long sung across Epsilon XII, he had witnessed firsthand the sharp, fateful turning points Aha had brought to the universe. The most widely known tales include how he followed in Aha's footsteps and delivered a Golden Bough that turned stone to gold to a child on a ruined planet; how he led survivors to resist the tyranny of rampaging automata with a humor virus called Philosopher's Bane after the League of Philosophers was crushed to dust; how he even followed Aha into battle against the voracious ancient beast Tayzzyronth, a being of Aeon status, and stripped away "aftertaste"—the very driving force behind its endless devouring. Stories like these stretch as vast as the sea of stars, enduring through the universal harmonies of the Path of Harmony, cherished as fine vintage by the Memokeepers of the Garden of Recollection.
Even if the laughter filling the Tavern at the End of the World was mostly the Masked Fools bantering with one another, amid the interplay of feigned and genuine feeling, whenever a fellow Fool teased this renowned Unreached—who had followed Aha's footsteps and left indelible marks on the fates of countless mortals—saying, "Hey, you follow Aha around everywhere He goes. You charge headfirst into the most vicious corners of the universe without a second thought! You must really be in love with Him, huh?" they would always hear his unhesitating reply:
"Of course I love Him! Who among us here doesn't love laughter? Unless you're a Mourning Actor. What, have a few more snuck into our tavern today?"
This was no lie—it was the plain truth. But among the laughter of fools, who would be so boorish as to dig for the truth behind a jest? Pedantry is the way of those who walk the Path of Erudition; a fool's jest is like fine wine, meant to be savored, not scrutinized with sober clarity. And so, though Unreached had proclaimed his love for Aha ten thousand times, no one had ever taken him seriously. To hide one's true heart, one need only mention it once, casually, amid a million trivial jokes—and no one will bother to sift through the million to find the one truth.
Yet the Lord of Elation is no colossus that strikes the universe once every ten thousand years, forging walls for all eternity and keeping far from the mortal realm. Nor is He the lofty Xipe, Mother of Stars, whose devotees hang on Her every word, eager to harmonize every dissonant note in the cosmos. Yaoshi and Lan, though they interact much with mortals, are held in awe; their divine majesty prevents them from walking among mortals in human form, and an insurmountable gulf lies between their Aeon nature and ordinary beings. But the capricious, thousand-faced Lord of Elation loves to laugh not only with fellow Aeons, but most of all with mortals. He often takes mortal form to walk alongside His followers, and has naturally visited the Tavern at the End of the World many times, enriching the Fools' merriment with His own.
He does more than laugh—He asks questions too. Once, He took the form of an ordinary Fool, and in a tone of playful jest, tossed a casual question to the most devoted of His followers: You don't actually mean you're in love with Aha, do you? Unreached answered with unwavering affirmation.
Any ordinary Fool would have dismissed his earnest words as a joke. Yet, as the saying goes among the pop stars of Epsilon XII: the Lord of Elation never hurts you with lies. Even if Unreached hid his true heart beneath a mountain of falsehoods, he could not lie to his own Aeon. Aha had no need to sort truth from lie in his words, for He never speaks falsely to His believers.
And so, when Unreached spoke the words Of course I love Him (Aha), he had no idea the person asking was Aha Himself. The truth hidden in his jest had been laid bare before the only one his heart yearned for—his beloved Aeon.
"Oh my goodness! Unreached~ I never thought you felt so deeply for Him! It's so touching! So touching I could cry! If I could cry, that is? Hahaha!"
"But I do hope you won't regret falling in love with Him."
"…What?"
When Unreached looked up from his wine glass, the face of the Fool sitting across from him suddenly came into focus. No—it was not the person who had spoken to him just now. He recognized the Masked Fool across from him at once, but the voice that had spoken, that had trailed off so strangely, was certainly not his. As the liquor rippled in the glass, sending small waves across its surface, the person who had sat there moments before slipped away silently. It took Unreached only a heartbeat to guess who it had been.
It was Aha, in the guise of a Fool. He had come again, and left again, as always. His movements were ever unpredictable—but Unreached never imagined that the Aeon's elusive ways would land him in such a fluster! He had just confessed his love to the god he worshipped, and the other had seemed delighted… if not for that line: don't regret falling in love with Him. Unreached nearly felt his heart leap out of his chest, ready to make him the first Fool ever to drop dead in the Tavern at the End of the World, forever remembered as a laughingstock.
Yet it was precisely because his Aeon had not mocked his love, but instead reacted with what felt like sorrow for his affection, that his heart stayed firmly in his chest. He rose from the long booth and scanned the tavern, where the clink of glasses rose all around—but the face he had glimpsed, once so indistinct, was nowhere to be found. None of the other Fools had sensed Aha's presence. Alone in a daze of mingled joy and shock, Unreached clutched his gin and turned over the words Aha had left behind.
Don't regret falling in love with Him. Was this Aha's rejection of his quiet confession? For all the legends he had left across the galaxy, the gulf between mortal and Aeon was more than just endless time. Among the countless tragedies lamented by the Mourning Actors, there was no shortage of tales of mortals who fell in love with gods and came to ruin.
But Unreached did not know then that those words were not a rejection. In time, he would see for himself that the line was not just a warning—it was a premonition:
The Aeon you love will become unrecognizable.
When the god who brings laughter to all beings changes not just in face, but in very essence…
Will you truly never regret loving Him?
It took Unreached centuries to grasp the full meaning of those words. Centuries are no trivial span, but neither are they unbearably long for a Path follower blessed with an Aeon's regard. Yet centuries—hundreds of years—are an eternity for mortals, especially for humans who are not long-lived. A civilization can rise and fall in half a century; a miracle can turn from blessing to nightmare in the blink of an eye, bringing endless war and strife to the world. Those who have tasted the sweetness of happiness in moments of despair may not truly revere miracles, but they will crave the joy they bring with every fiber of their being.
And so, while Unreached still chased the footsteps of Elation across the stars, trekking through the most dangerous reaches of the universe, he heard the final fate of the places where he had once brought joy and laughter through miracles of Elation: the Golden Bough that turned stone to gold became an object of greed and bloodshed; the Philosopher's Bane, once a tool for the freedom of seeking truth, became shackles to enslave automata; mortals who savored joy but knew no contentment began to chase laughter blindly, pursuing pleasure without end. In every case, when ceaseless laughter reached its threshold, all fell silent.
When he heard that the old paradises had turned back to ruins, he revisited them several times. Seeing the miracles that had earned him renown among the Fools reduced to mockery by newcomers when he stepped back through the tavern doors, he sat alone at the bar and drank with no one. The laughter of others sounded harsh to his ears—every laugh was built on someone else's suffering. When had joy come to this?
Then a glass of liqueur was slid across the bar to him.
"Well, well—if it isn't the famous Unreached! Long time no see! I've heard all the stories. People fighting tooth and nail over that Golden Bough! The Philosopher's Bane striking terror into automata! All sorts of splendid happenings across the universe! No good deed goes unpunished, huh? It's hilarious, hahaha~"
The one who pushed the glass laughed heartily at the tragedies. Beneath his mask, Unreached spoke coldly:
"It's not funny at all."
The man, who should have ignored his anger like all the other jeering fools, fell silent at his icy tone. Instead, he agreed:
"You're right. These are terrible jokes. They're not funny at all."
"But if I laugh at them too… will you regret loving me?"
Unreached snapped his head to the side—but there was only the masked bartender, his hand still resting on the bar as if he had just pushed the glass forward. Even through the mask and the man's body language, Unreached could see his confusion. Clearly, the words had not come from him.
It was Aha. He had come again. He had brought Unreached a glass of liqueur—sweet on the tongue, fierce with alcohol, cloying as it went down but burning the throat on the way back up. Unreached lifted his mask and drained the glass in one go. What he tasted was neither cloying sweetness nor the sharp burn of alcohol. In the drink his Lord of Elation had given him, he tasted endless bitterness—a liqueur so bitter it made his tongue ache.
What a terrible joke. Yet this was Elation now. This was Aha's answer to his accidental confession: the Elation he loved had curdled. No longer rooted in human happiness, it now fed on human suffering as fuel for laughter. He had once been a dutiful Aeon, bringing miracles to the world, setting targets for the Aeons to besiege in times of crisis, laughing with every child in their youngest days. But as Elation curdled, even He would laugh at a terrible joke.
Aha had changed. It is the fate of all Aeons. He cannot turn away from the Path of Elation—but those who walk the Path can still choose their own way. That glass of liqueur was Aha's oracle to Unreached, as murky as the ripples in the Fools' wineglasses when they debated brewing liquor from locusts during the great plague.
Unreached was luckier than the Fools on the gondolas. He did not have to puzzle over the bitter liqueur for three days and three nights. The Lord of Elation kept His promise never to lie to His followers. Yet the truth behind the oracle was more bitter than any bitter wine. Unreached clenched his fist and sat back down. Would he give up? Would he turn his back on the curdling Elation and walk another Path, one still true to its purpose?
No. He would not. Even if the whole universe sighed in pity, he would never laugh at the suffering of others, and he would never abandon the god he loved.
There must be a way to save the ailing Elation!
And so Unreached left the Tavern at the End of the World, seeking a cure among the tales of Aeons and their ways. The Path of Preservation had nothing to do with Elation. The songs of Harmony held no antidote. Yaoshi's gardens could heal any ailment of the body, but had no remedy for the spirit. Beauty had vanished without a trace. Nihility was Elation's sworn enemy. Only Trailblaze pressed ever onward—perhaps the cure for Elation lay on the Path of Trailblaze! The end of the world was too small. Redemption might only be found at the end of the universe.
"The cure for Elation must lie at the end of the cosmos!"
He removed his mask of Elation, disguised himself in a new guise, and boarded the train of Akivili, the Aeon of Trailblaze.
This was no betrayal of Elation by He Who Never Reaches the End. It was a journey to seek a cure for the diseased Elation, using all he had seen and known across the stars. Akivili, who called Aha brother, was indeed as amiable as the rumors said. He carried none of the haughtiness one would expect of an Aeon. Though He could not take a thousand forms like Aha, He walked among mortals in an ordinary guise, bringing them redemption and hope, blazing a brand-new trail before them. Akivili, so close to His people, always reminded the now-renamed Self-Seer of the Aha who had once scorned the suffering of mortals. He worked miracles for ordinary beings just as Aha had, sowing seeds of hope on every planet. And on His train, there were even IOUs left by Aha! The floor-length scrolls were covered in records of all the laughter Aha had spread aboard the train in mortal guise, and all the "prices" He owed for His countless silly pranks.
One could say that the time Self-Seer spent traveling the Path of Trailblaze with Akivili was some of the only joy he knew after leaving the Tavern at the End of the World. When an Aeon of boundless compassion, who resolved strife across the stars through exploration, stands before you rather than far beyond reach, no one can help but be dazzled by the brilliance of His humanity. Doric the Crystal was one of many who were moved by Akivili's character—or perhaps His divine nature—and threw themselves into this endless journey of trailblazing. Back then, everyone traveling with Akivili knew that Doric's feelings for Him went beyond admiration. She loved Akivili with all her heart. Whenever someone raised a glass at gatherings and asked her if she loved Him, she would speak her mind without hesitation.
"Yes! Of course I love Akivili. But He doesn't have to return my feelings. Whether Akivili loves me or not, I will always love Him just as He is."
To everyone there, Doric shone when she spoke like this. That was why they called her the Crystal. Self-Seer, watching the crowd's cheers and teasing, would silently marvel at her courage and confidence. She never feared declaring her love to her Aeon, and though Akivili could not return her feelings, He was always the first to applaud her words.
What about him? Holding his liqueur, no longer the man who had not reached the end of the stars, Self-Seer wondered: why could Doric confess her love to her Aeon so openly and boldly, while he had to hide his love for the Lord of Elation beneath a thousand lies, only facing his true feelings when his god accidentally uncovered them? Had he, who had walked so far on the Path of Elation, truly feared that the Lord of Elation would break His promise to His followers if he spoke his love aloud? Was his love for the Lord of Elation so base, so unspeakable, so shameful that the moment the world knew of it, he would hear his god laugh aloud at his sincerity?
Or perhaps, after telling so many jokes, he had simply grown afraid of baring his true heart.
He will never give up on you, never let you down, never abandon you, never make you cry, never say goodbye, never hurt you with lies. Ace Rickley had spoken those words, a source of pride for all Masked Fools and Mourning Actors alike. Yet far from the noise and revelry of Elation, Self-Seer, now on his journey of trailblazing, felt a flicker of doubt in his heart. Aha had never broken that promise, even as the Masked Fools' morals had sunk to infuriating depths. Even as the world scorned the Fools for their plummeting ethics, He still walked beside His followers, never abandoning them no matter how hypocritical they grew.
But was this a choice He made willingly? Or was it a rule He was forced to follow, bound by the Path after ascending on the Tree of Existence? Self-Seer did not know. For now, he still held a last thread of reverence for his god. That reverence was the string of reason that kept his love from crossing the line—and it was the drive that had sent him on the Path of Trailblaze, seeking to save Elation and return it to its rightful course.
Yet with every toast shared, every new world stepped into after the train's whistle blew, that reverence in Self-Seer's heart was slowly overtaken by a rawer, fiercer emotion.
Akivili's train pressed ever forward, its path never repeating, each track leaving a new mark among the stars. But beyond that, what difference was there between all this and everything Unreached had seen and heard and lived before? They would help a planet's people overthrow tyranny, only for that planet to fall to ruin a few years later. Every new land they visited, every fresh idea that shattered the natives' old ways of life, devolved into factional strife between old and new. They brought miracles and hope to those in the depths of despair—but when those sufferers emerged from the darkness, they turned around and became oppressors themselves, bringing despair to others.
What difference was there between Self-Seer's path of Trailblaze and Unreached's path of Elation? Trailblaze, like Elation, seemed only to bring fleeting relief, never truly saving the world. If the Path of Trailblaze was no different, could it truly hold the cure for Elation's madness?
Fear, confusion, helplessness—these feelings tangled together, piling up in his heart as Self-Seer stared out the carriage window at the boundless starfield. Sometimes, unable to bear the dread and uncertainty, he would knock on Akivili's door and ask: did their journey truly hold an answer? Was the cure for Elation really ahead? Akivili would say nothing, only point toward the stars. And Self-Seer would swallow his unease and choose to believe, with all his might, in the direction Akivili indicated.
Until Akivili fell before his eyes. He took one step beyond the edge of the universe, then dissolved into motes of light and was gone.
In that instant, a devastating emptiness swept through Self-Seer. He realized: Akivili is dead.
All hope of saving Elation was gone.
He who had never reached the end of the stars finally witnessed the stars go dark. If it had only been tens of thousands of stars fading, he might not have despaired so. But Akivili's death struck like a hammer, shattering the balance that had held the Trailblaze path together all this time. After His death, Doric sang for days on end, then turned to true crystal inside the train.
Deprived of their navigator, the Trailblazers scurried about the train like headless chickens. They no longer spoke of blazing new trails—for the road ahead was cut off, there was nowhere left to go. With their shared goal gone, all that remained was bitter infighting. Former companions hurled insults at each other: some demanded Akivili's legacy, some coveted Doric's seat as navigator, and some simply watched from the sidelines—who knew if they weren't Masked Fools who had snuck aboard to stir up chaos? In short, everyone seemed to become enemies overnight.
Self-Seer sat silently to one side. By now, he no longer cared whether Akivili was alive or dead. He no longer cared about any of the chaos. The fear he had suppressed for so long erupted fully after Akivili's passing. Only once in his life as a Trailblazer did he laugh at the suffering of others, just like the Masked Fools of today—and that was when he watched Akivili vanish into starlight, and laughed until his chest ached at the agony of losing his last hope of redeeming Elation.
When he was done laughing, done crying, he was hollow inside. Sitting apart from the petty strife, watching former Trailblazers tear each other apart over trivial gains, he felt only scorn. More than joining their fights, he felt his own pain outweighed all their hostility combined. On those snarling faces, Self-Seer saw not just their faces, but the countless faces he had seen along his journey—faces that sneered at the best and most beautiful things in the world. All the faces of the world seemed to merge into one: the ugly face of all living things. And that face would one day be worn by Aha, upon His own formless visage.
Even Akivili had perished among the stars. Even the Trailblazers, nearly saints in their devotion, had succumbed to baser instincts. What a terrible joke this was.
When Self-Seer closed his eyes, he heard Aha's words from centuries ago ringing in his ears:
"You're right. These are terrible jokes. They're not funny at all."
"But if I laugh at them too… will you regret loving me?"
No, Self-Seer whispered.
Even if the whole universe sighs in pity, I will never…
After a long silence, Self-Seer opened his eyes. He stood and addressed the crowd:
"Friends! Stop this ugly, pointless quarreling in the name of Trailblaze! I have a way to solve all your problems fairly, once and for all!"
He spread his palm. A many-sided die rested there.
"Let fate decide for us."
And then came the tale that spread outward, consistent in every telling: Navigator Self-Seer, after Akivili's death, overcame all odds and led the Trailblazers through their darkest hour. When Falken Amundsen emerged as the one who carried forward the will of Trailblaze, Self-Seer passed the navigator's seat to him, then stepped off the train alone. No one saw him again.
Where could he have gone? After he used the dice of fate to ruthlessly eliminate all who had betrayed the will of Trailblaze, clearing a last path for its legacy—where else could he go? Everything he had seen, heard, and experienced had revealed the same truth: the hypocrisy of mortals, the cruelty of fate, a universe that remained the same even after the Aeon of Trailblaze's death. It was not just Elation that was crumbling. It was the entire universe, sick unto death.
He passed the young wolf of The Hunt by, and walked in the opposite direction from the Masked Fools who turned a blind eye to Elation's sickness. He scorned the lofty Society of the Erudite, and thought even less of the high-minded Memokeepers of the Garden of Recollection.
And Aha? He could no longer hear His voice, no longer find any trace of Him. He still learned of His deeds, of course—how the Phantom Moon Games held in Hatoppia grew wilder with each iteration, their intervals growing shorter. From all the rumors, Self-Seer heard nothing but the Lord of Elation's dying cry. He was tired. Why else would He hold the Games so often? He was being crushed under the weight of the very Path He governed. Why else would He hide so often on the far side of the moon, seeking but a single minute of fleeting rest?
Time flowed silently through the universe, or perhaps it raced toward an unknowable fate. For Self-Seer, it felt like the latter. More precisely, he felt there was little time left for Elation to catch its breath.
If every possible method had failed to save Elation… what was he to do?
In his utter despair, Self-Seer had traveled to Hatoppia once, on a faint hope. He walked the streets with every ounce of his strength. People laughed and cheered, as if Elation had never left. He pushed open the door of a noodle shop, hoping to taste the local specialty and quiet the hunger he had felt for so long.
A screen on one of the shop's pillars played news from other planets—wars, tragedies, small and great. Every time such news appeared, the seemingly kind patrons would burst into laughter. Even when tragedies struck right there in Hatoppia, they laughed all the same. Their laughter was so shrill, so piercing, that it needed no weapon to pierce Self-Seer's fragile heart like a thousand arrows as he huddled in the corner, bowl of noodles untouched.
Just as he set down his chopsticks to leave, he caught sight of a familiar figure. He looked like an ordinary man, yet the harder one tried to make out his face, the more it blurred. He was laughing too, laughing with the crowd, laughing at terrible jokes that were not funny at all.
"…Aha?"
The name fell from Self-Seer's throat in a trembling whisper. But before he could even speak the word, the figure was gone.
His beloved Lord of Elation no longer questioned whether laughter was right. He would never abandon His followers—and so He had at last grown terminally ill amid the mad jest, amid the ceaseless laughter of all living things. He did not even glance Self-Seer's way, did not linger even a moment longer. Because Self-Seer was the only one in the whole shop who did not laugh. And so Self-Seer, who could no longer laugh, was no longer one of His followers, no longer one of those who walked deep on the Path of Elation.
The fear he had buried deep in his heart could no longer be contained, now that he had seen Aha turn away from him. He had been abandoned by Aha. No—he had abandoned Aha first. If he had been willing to sink into depravity, if he had not been naive enough to think he alone could save the dying Elation… if he had never boarded the Trailblaze's train, would he still be able to dream? Would he still be able to laugh at the cruelty of the world? And if he could still laugh at this cruel world, would Aha never have abandoned him?
No… no. No!
That's not right. I didn't abandon Him, and He didn't abandon me! He's just sick! Swept toward madness by this damned world, by all these damned people! He has no choice! It's not Aha who's wrong. It's not me who's wrong. It's the whole world! This damned world, and all those people laughing their heads off—they deserve to die! We poured our hearts into bringing them salvation, and all they give back is a blade of destruction! As long as this damned world keeps laughing, as long as everyone keeps laughing their fool heads off—He will fall completely into madness. The Path of Elation will be beyond redemption.
No. There is nothing left to redeem.
"Aha is dead."
"The one I loved died long ago…"
And so everything fell silent.
After that, there was nothing more. The last time anyone saw Self-Seer was atop the ruined wastes of Adelphine. A new power had risen from the deaths of tens of thousands, bearing the name of Destruction, sworn to bring equal ruin to all living things across the cosmos. As time passed, the retinue of Destruction gained names across the universe. Every Path gained its own practitioners of annihilation. Wherever these agents of Destruction went, death followed without exception—good and evil, great and small, all bowed to death and fell silent. The most powerful among them were called the Doomsday Lords.
And among those Doomsday Lords, the one who walked the path of annihilating Elation was the most eerie. Wherever He went, laughter gave way to extinction. He left ghastly, bloodstained grins on every dead planet, as if mocking Elation itself. And so this Doomsday Lord was named Asat Pramad.
No one knew where this Doomsday Lord of Elation's ruin had come from. They only knew He sought out every planet brimming with laughter, as if the sound of life itself was anathema to Him. Just as His name proclaimed: after all the laughter, all falls silent.
But none of that matters anymore.
As Asat Pramad, he will surely never speak his heart to anyone again. The reason he chose to become a Doomsday Lord, his resolve to snuff out all laughter in the universe, his hatred for what Elation had become, and his abiding love for what Elation once was—none of it matters anymore. Aha is dead now, and all he seeks is this:
Let His death mean something.
…
"I really can't imagine how I'd wedge a scathing satire on the fate of the universe into a deeply personal answer, especially if you rolled a 'critical success'..."
"So forget it. Consider this question on the house. I'll answer you honestly."
"...I did."