The grand theater stage had become a battlefield.
The Astral Express crew stood back-to-back, confronting Sunday.
Their fighting spirit was high, their resolve like iron.
Yet, an indescribable sense of eeriness seeped into everyone's hearts.
Something was wrong.
Stelle clutched the top hat in her hand, scanning her surroundings.
Himeko, Welt Yang, Dan Heng, March 7th... and herself.
Five people.
But why did she feel like there should be six people standing here?
There was a void in their formation, a spot everyone instinctively avoided, yet subconsciously left an absolutely safe distance for.
"Everyone, prepare..." Stelle began, wanting to boost morale, but her words suddenly caught in her throat.
She wanted to shout a name, a name that should, at this moment, be the absolute pillar and core.
But that name rolled in her throat, perfectly clear.
Yet, it was blocked by an invisible barrier.
Whenever she tried to break through that barrier, a sharp pain shot through her brain.
"Ugh..."
March 7th rubbed her head in confusion, "Strange... I feel like I've forgotten something very, very important..."
Just then, Sunday looked down at them, the horror from having glimpsed thirty million cycles of reincarnation now transformed into absolute coldness and divinity.
"The work of all creation is complete."
"The Day of No Doubt has arrived—"
"The Fetus of Philosophy—"
"Reshape the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth for us!"
He merged with the "Echoes of Old Dreams," transforming into "The Fetus of Philosophy: Sunday," and a grand chant echoed throughout the stage.
"On the first day, bestow 'Truth'..."
An invisible force of order pressed down like a tide, making everyone breathless.
Suddenly.
Black Swan's figure flashed through everyone's consciousness; the memory anchor she planted flickered wildly, trying to pry open the forgotten shackles.
Everyone was trying to remember.
Who exactly did I forget?
Welt Yang stared intently at "The Fetus of Philosophy," seeing that stance, a method that also plunged everyone into a dream.
He inevitably recalled a familiar figure.
Countless chaotic images exploded in his mind.
That figure slowly turned their head, devoid of sorrow or joy, only a heavy obsession.
"Welt... Alliance Leader."
"..."
"Humanity will ultimately triumph over... the Black Tide!"
"..."
"Long time no see... Herrscher!"
He even mimicked Otto's tone, saying flippantly—
"But, he still has me!"
"No!" Welt Yang's pupils contracted violently, "He's not Kevin! Absolutely not! But who exactly is he?!"
He instinctively reached into his pocket, his fingertips touching an incredibly familiar small medicine bottle.
Quick-acting heart relief pills?
"Why... do I carry this with me?" A thought furiously assailed his reason.
"Because he... because he always..."
..."On the second day, bestow 'Calendar'!"
"On the third day, bestow 'Language'!"
"On the fourth day, bestow 'Value'!"
The Fetus of Philosophy's chant continued; with each passing day, his arms spread a little wider, and the oppressive power of order surged.
"On the fifth day, bestow 'Rules'!"
"Uncle Yang!" March 7th's anxious voice pulled him back from the brink of collapse, "What's wrong with you?!"
Welt Yang suddenly looked up.
His usually composed face was filled with pain and struggle.
The next moment.
Crack!
He crushed the glass bottle in his hand!
Fragments pierced his palm, bleeding profusely, and the pain cleaved a rift in the chaos of oblivion!
The Herrscher of Reason's authority operated wildly, reconstructing his constantly collapsing consciousness.
Welt Yang's lips trembled, he spoke each word distinctly,
"He has... white hair..."
"He carries... the obsession of saving the world..."
"But his name..."
Welt Yang took a deep breath, using all the strength of his life to reclaim that name from the rules of the world!
His cane struck heavily!
"His name is... Phainon!"
In the shadows not far away, Black Swan appeared and disappeared, watching this scene, she couldn't help but chuckle softly.
It truly is you, Mr. Welt.
Always full of surprises.
"This scene is truly a magnificent memory!"
"Phainon!"
This name ignited like a spark deep within everyone's memories!
The indestructible "anti-memetic" rule shattered in response.
The past that had been forcibly dug out, the blank spaces that had been crudely filled, collapsed in an instant, and true memories returned like a tide.
March 7th stood frozen, a figure appearing in her mind who would never cooperate with photos, "Black robe... mask... and that laugh that always meant trouble..."
Himeko also saw it.
In her ice-blue eyes, there was only a dead, burnt-out paleness.
Yet beneath that paleness, lay the deepest protection for her companion.
"In his eyes... there was only a dead silence."
Stelle clutched her head.
She remembered.
Space Station, fearlessly shielding her.
Belobog, standing shoulder to shoulder with her.
Xianzhou Loufu, breaking through encirclement with her.
Always walking at the very front, taking all dangers upon himself!
A hot tear uncontrollably slid from the corner oStelle's eye.
She remembered everything!
"He is my... partner I can absolutely not forget!"
The next moment, the Astral Express crew spoke in unison, their voices converging into an unyielding torrent, fiercely crashing against the sacred "Order"!
"He is a Trailblazer! A member of the Astral Express!"
"We have another companion, his name is Phainon!"
At this moment.
Sunday, hidden beneath the Fetus of Philosophy, froze!
He could clearly feel that the absolute rule of "unmentionable" and "unlookable," was actually torn open by the will of "Trailblaze," by these "weaklings."
They pulled back an existence that should have been completely erased!
However, the Fetus of Philosophy did not stop chanting.
It finally reached their final movement!
"On the sixth day, bestow 'Meaning'..."
"On the seventh day, bestow 'Dignity'..."
Sunday's voice transformed into the final judgment.
"Witness the awakening of 'In the Beginning There Was Action,' O judge of the world."
"O Taiyi, return as summoned!"
The giant hand of Order: Taiyi slashed across the sky, gently touching the fingertips of the Fetus of Philosophy.
A screen of light, pure to the extreme, unfolded.
A powerful torrent of energy poured down like divine punishment!
Everyone was suppressed by the immense pressure, unable to move.
However.
A familiar figure slowly appeared before the Astral Express crew.
Black robe, white hair, a golden mask hanging at his waist.
Before him, four gray phantoms identical to him lined up in a row.
Like the most indestructible shields.
The five figures blocked all the light of Order!
Cracks covered the surface of the phantoms, yet they did not retreat a single step.
The light dissipated.
The black-robed figure slowly turned their head.
His hair gently fluttered in the afterglow of the energy, and on his handsome face, there was no longer the coldness that kept people at a distance, nor the madness that burned everything.
Instead, it was an incredibly gentle, warm smile.
He looked at his companions and said softly:
"You didn't forget me, so, I'm back, partners!"