The Long Night of Solace [Part 2]

Cocolia stands atop the hill, clutching the Lance of Preservation. Power surges through her veins, intoxicating and overwhelming. Doubt flickers across her face as the Stellaron's whispers slither into her mind. Visions flood her consciousness—Bronya lying broken at Xander's feet, the Underworld's citizens tearing down her life's work in rebellion.

Galaxies bloom across her skin, pulsing with otherworldly energy. The Stellaron's voice grows insistent.

"Act now. Forge a new world from the ashes of the old. In Bronya's memory."

Rising gracefully into the air, she fixes her gaze on the towering Engine of Creation. Its colossal frame dominates the skyline, a monument to the Architects' power. Below, the Landau Captain watches in horror, his face a mask of fear and desperation.

She raises the Lance high, her voice ringing out clear and commanding.

"Belobog's Stellaron! Awaken the Engine of Creation and cleanse this world of those who threaten our future!"

Reality bends as energy crackles through the air. The Stellaron's glow intensifies, tendrils of power connecting to the Engine through a network of cables. With a shudder, the construct's eyes flicker from crimson to molten gold.

As the Engine raises its massive fist, the world responds. Storm clouds gather at unnatural speed, thunder rumbling in counterpoint to the Engine's high-pitched whine.

Its fist descends with impossible speed, its golden aura warping reality. Gepard, realizing the imminent danger, raises his shield and summons all of his power in a last-ditch effort to at least protect himself from the fallout.

The air splits with a deafening crack as it makes contact with the ground. For a heartbeat, time stands still.

Then, with a roar that drowns out all else, the world erupts.

——————————————————————

A deafening blast reverberates through the cavernous expanse of Belobog's Underworld, cutting March's words short. The sound, reminiscent of a massive detonation, freezes everyone in their tracks. An eerie silence follows, punctuated only by the fading echoes of the initial cry.

Xander's eyes widen as he activates Chronosurge. His perception slows to a crawl, the world fading to grayscale as his heightened senses stretch outward. Every vibration, every minute change in the air currents becomes a clue, his mind racing to decipher their meaning.

Simultaneously, Svarog's processors kick into overdrive. The ancient combat robot runs countless simulations, his single glowing eye flickering rapidly.

In the stretched moments of Chronosurge, Xander detects a faint tremor beneath his feet. His gaze snaps upward, straining to pierce the inky blue shrouding the distant ceiling. A chill runs down his spine as impossible realization dawns.

"The ceiling's coming down," he whispers, horror etching his features.

Svarog reaches the same conclusion a fraction of a second later, his priorities shifting instantly to protect Clara.

Xander's eyes dart to his companions, mere feet away. "Seele!" he shouts, voice tight with urgency. "Grab Natasha and Bronya! Quantum leap towards the entrance! Don't hold back – their lives depend on it!"

Seele's eyes widen, but she doesn't hesitate. In a blur of motion, she seizes Natasha and Bronya's arms.

"What about—" Bronya starts, but Seele cuts her off.

"No time!" Seele's voice is sharp with fear as she activates her powers. The trio vanishes in a flash of blue light.

Xander turns to March and Dan, still standing close. "We need to move. Now!"

Without waiting for a response, he wraps an arm around each of them, hauling their bodies over his shoulders. Pain lances through him as he lifts them, worse than when the Stellaron's energy had torn through him during the battle with the Doomsday Beast.

A massive chunk of rock crashes nearby, the impact sending shockwaves through the cavern floor. Smaller debris rains down around them, stone striking stone in a terrifying percussion.

Xander pushes fires off Chronosurge on all gears, muscles screaming in protest as he races against time. The world blurs around him, but it's not enough. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, yet still too fast.

His internal monologue becomes a desperate mantra.

Let me make it in time. Please, let me make it in time!

A shadow falls over them. The otherworlder's enhanced senses scream a warning. A massive piece of debris is plummeting their way, blocking out what little light remains.

Time seems to stretch impossibly thin. Xander's mind races, calculating angles and trajectories. He prepares to push Chronosurge beyond its limits, knowing the toll it will take on his body.

But as he attempts to increase his speed, his legs buckle beneath him. The strain of carrying two people while maintaining Chronosurge proves too much.

In that split second, Xander makes a decision. With the last of his strength, he hurls March and Dan forward, out of the shadow of the falling debris.

"Run!" The word tears from his throat, raw and desperate.

March and Dan tumble across the ground, disoriented. As they struggle to their feet, they turn back just in time to see the massive chunk of ceiling bearing down on their companion.

"XANDER!" March screams, her voice lost in the thunderous crash of rock meeting earth.

——————————————————————

The earth trembles, a deep rumble resonating through Belobog's core. Within seconds, the subtle vibration intensifies into violent shaking, sending ripples of panic through the underground city. Structures groan and creak as their foundations become unstable. The once-solid ground undulates like a stormy sea, causing people to stumble and fall.

A deafening crack echoes through the cavernous underworld, drowning out terrified screams. Massive support beams of rock and geomarrow, pillars that have held the weight of the world above for generations, begin to splinter. Fissures race along their surfaces like lightning across a night sky.

The air fills with a cacophony – grinding stone, shattering rock, and the ominous rumble of impending collapse. Dust and debris rain down, obscuring vision and choking lungs. The ethereal glow of geomarrow flickers erratically, casting eerie shadows across panic-stricken faces.

In the Great Mine, mineshafts collapse, trapping workers in dark tombs of rock and twisted metal. Scaffolding and walkways buckle, spilling occupants into the abyss below. Many of Boulder Town's sturdy buildings crumble, streets heave and split, swallowing vehicles and pedestrians. Fires erupt as gas lines rupture, adding their hellish glow to the apocalyptic scene.

Forge Town's modest dwellings are devastated, burying families beneath rubble. The Robot Settlement falls silent as the quake disrupts power systems, leaving dozens of automatons crashed and useless.

Throughout the underworld, support beams fail. Massive chunks of rock and geomarrow plummet, each impact sending shockwaves that compound the destruction. The ground doesn't just shake – it undulates, ripples, and in places, gives way entirely. Chasms open, swallowing entire sections of towns.

In the upper levels, the ceiling begins to crack and splinter. Fissures spread like a spiderweb, growing wider and deeper. With a sound like the world splitting in two, it gives way. Massive slabs of rock obliterate everything in their path, reducing homes, businesses, and people to dust in an instant.

Geomarrow veins shatter and explode, releasing bursts of energy that tear through weakened structures. Rivers of molten rock flow through newly formed crevices, their searing heat adding another layer of terror. Steam hisses and roars as it meets underground water sources, creating scalding geysers.

When the shaking subsides, the true extent of the devastation becomes clear. Entire sections of the city have ceased to exist. The carefully maintained network of tunnels and caverns has transformed into a labyrinth of rubble and ruin. The air is thick with dust and smoke, making every breath a struggle.

In the eerie silence that follows, cries for help echo through the devastated cityscape. Emergency systems flicker to life, bathing the scene in a sickly, pulsing red glow. Survivors emerge from the wreckage, shell-shocked and disoriented, stumbling through the ruins of their once-familiar world. They call out for loved ones, struggling to comprehend the scale of the disaster.

But for many, there is no escape.

——————————————————————

March's eyes flutter open to a world of swirling dust and distant tremors. The air, thick with ash, carries the echoes of far-off screams that chill her to the bone. Panic grips her heart as she realizes Dan Heng is nowhere in sight.

"Dan!" Her voice, hoarse and barely audible, cuts through the chaos. "Dan Heng!"

"Over here," comes his muffled reply. Relief floods her, but it's short-lived.

Struggling to her feet, March coughs as the dust irritates her throat. "Follow my voice!"

Dan emerges from the haze, covered in grime. They embrace, trembling.

"What's happening?" March asks, fear and confusion etched on her face.

Before Dan can answer, Xander's voice, raspier than usual, cuts through the din. "Are you two alright?"

March's heart leaps. "We're okay. Where are you?"

"Here," Xander replies, strain evident in his tone. "I'm trapped."

They make their way towards him, navigating the twisted metal and shattered concrete. As they round a corner, the sight before them freezes March's blood.

Xander lies pinned, his right arm buried beneath an enormous boulder. His eyes, cloudy and unfocused, contrast sharply with his eerily calm expression.

Dan rushes forward, muscles straining against the immovable rock. "March! Help me!"

Xander's voice, impossibly steady, cuts through their panic. "It's okay, Dan. Save your strength. We need to think this through."

They push with all their might, but the boulder doesn't budge. Dan's frustration manifests as shimmering water droplets in the air.

"Stop, Dan," Xander warns weakly. "Imbibitor Lunae's powers... they're too unstable right now."

Dan's face contorts with fury and confusion. "How can you know that? I'm trying to save you!"

"Because I've seen what uncontrolled power can do," Xander replies, his calm unnerving. "And right now, you risk more than just my life."

Before Dan can retort, a chilling, mechanized cry echoes through the rubble.

"HELP."

The sound sends shivers down March's spine – a machine pushed beyond its limits, desperately trying to communicate.

Xander speaks again, his calmness at odds with the situation. "Svarog and Clara are trapped nearby. If you unleash your power here, you might hurt them too."

March's stomach drops. "How bad is it?"

Another mechanical cry answers her, more desperate than before.

"HELP CLARA. ██████. PLEASE."

Xander's next words stun them both.

"Dan... use Cloud Piercer. Cut off my arm. It's the only way to free me so I can reach her in time."

March recoils. "You can't be serious!"

"I am," Xander replies, his voice filled with a warmth that belies their dire situation. "I trust you both with my life. An arm for her survival – it's a price I'll gladly pay. But we need to hurry, and we need Natasha too. Without her, I can't do what needs to be done."

"Natasha?" Dan asks, confusion evident in his voice.

Xander's voice grows urgent. "Her powers... the Abundance... I need it to save Clara. Please, trust me on this. Cut me free, find Natasha, and get me to Clara. It's our only chance."

Tears stream down March's face as she summons her powers, numbing the man's trapped arm. Dan raises Cloud Piercer, his hands trembling.

"Thank you," Xander whispers, gratitude evident even as his voice fades. "Now hurry. Clara doesn't have much time."

The sickening sound of flesh and bone giving way fills the air. March squeezes her eyes shut, but can't block out the horrific noise.

When it's over, Xander lies motionless, his arm ending in a bloody stump below his shoulder. Dan drops to his knees, Cloud Piercer clattering beside him, his face a mask of shock and horror.

To their astonishment, the severed arm begins to disintegrate. Golden sparks dance around it, growing more intense by the second. Within moments, the limb vanishes completely, leaving no trace behind.

March moves quickly, fashioning a tourniquet from her clothes. Her hands shake, but she forces herself to focus – Xander's life depends on it.

"We need to move," she says, her voice steadier than she feels. "Dan, can you carry him?"

Dan nods mutely, carefully lifting Xander's unconscious form.

As they navigate the wreckage, the cries for help grow louder. They round a corner of rubble only to freeze. Svarog, once imposing, now lies crushed beneath a fallen beam, its single eye flickering weakly.

"Dan," March calls out, her voice trembling, "find Natasha and the others. Hurry!"

Dan disappears into the dust-filled corridor as she drags Xander towards the sounds of distress. What she sees next makes her blood run cold.

Svarog lies in ruins, half-buried under massive slabs of rock. Yet the robot strains to keep itself raised, shielding Clara beneath. Its voice, distorted and weak, crackles through the air.

"███Impact... too strong. Crushed ███ Clara... Suspect internal damage... hemorrhage ███."

Clara's small form is barely visible, blood staining her lips as she fades in and out of consciousness. March's hands hover over her, frozen in terror.

Footsteps approach. Dan appears in a heartbeat, helping to carry Natasha with one of her arms across his shoulders. The other one hangs at an odd angle, her shoulder clearly dislocated. He gently lays Clara beside Xander, his face a mask of shock.

The expert medic kneels, her good hand glowing green as she begins to heal the snow-haired girl. But her coughs grow more violent, blood spattering the ground. Clara's consciousness flickers, her small body wracked with pain as she fades in and out.

Bronya and Seele arrive moments later, both battered and dirt-covered. The Commander cradles her own dislocated shoulder, while Seele limps on a swollen ankle. They stand in stunned silence, unable to process the scene of devastation before them.

March cradles Xander's unconscious form, her heart pounding. She turns to him, her touch icy as she tries to rouse him.

"Xander," she whispers urgently, "we need you. Clara needs you. Natasha's here. Please, wake up!"

——————————————————————

Consciousness returns with agonizing slowness, a frigid sensation creeping across my face. My eyes flutter open to find March leaning over me, her hand radiating an ethereal blue glow. The chill penetrates deep, banishing the lingering fog of unconsciousness.

"He's awake!" March's voice cracks with relief, the tension of the past moments evident in her trembling tone.

As my vision sharpens, I become acutely aware of hushed, urgent whispers nearby. Seele and Bronya stand mere feet away, their eyes wide with horror as they fixate on the space where my arm should be. I follow their gaze, bracing for the sight of mangled flesh, only to be met with... nothing. An empty void where my limb once existed.

Before I can fully process this surreal sight, a pained whimper pierces the air, drawing my attention with laser focus. Natasha kneels on the debris-strewn ground, her left hand outstretched over Clara's prone form. Pulsating green energy emanates from her palm, bathing the child in an otherworldly light. Yet even through this supernatural glow, Clara's dire condition is painfully evident. Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, her breathing shallow and erratic – each labored inhale a battle against encroaching death.

Svarog looms above, his massive frame half-crushed beneath a fallen pillar. His singular red eye flickers with an intensity that can only be described as desperate. "███PLEASE. ███SAVE CLARA," he intones, his mechanical voice strained to the point of distortion.

Ignoring the screaming protests of my battered body, I struggle to my feet. "March, Dan," I rasp, my voice raw and unfamiliar, "help me over there."

Without hesitation, they move to support me, their touch a grounding presence as I stumble towards the girl. I collapse to my knees beside Natasha, my heart constricting at the sight of Clara's broken form.

"Ma'am," I manage, each word an effort, "we can't do this alone. But together... we might have a chance."

She nods, sweat beading on her furrowed brow, the toll of maintaining her healing powers evident in every line of her face.

I turn to Dan Heng, my gaze locking with his. "I need you to cut my palm. Deep. We need blood."

He hesitates for a heartbeat, conflict clear in his eyes, before producing a small knife. With surgical precision, he slices across my palm. Golden blood wells up instantly, an otherworldly shimmer as it mingles with mortal crimson.

Shock ripples through our small group, but I force myself to focus solely on Clara, blocking out all else.

"Natasha," I instruct, my voice gaining strength, "don't stop healing her. Your Abundance powers are crucial here. They'll counteract the... side effects of my ability. No matter what you see or feel, push through."

Ever professional in these kinds of situations, she nods, understanding dawning in her eyes. She intensifies her efforts, green energy pulsing more vibrantly.

Positioning my bleeding hand over Clara's abdomen, where the damage appears most severe, I take a deep, centering breath. Eyes closed, I reach deep within myself, tapping into a well of power I'm only beginning to understand.

God, I won't run from this anymore. Whatever the cost, whatever path You set before me, I'll follow.

Just... please. Do this one thing for me.

Help me save her.

For an agonizing moment, nothing happens. Then, like a dam breaking, I feel it – a searing warmth erupting from my Stellaron core, cascading down my arm and into my palm. The sensation intensifies, bordering on unbearable as it flows into Clara's broken body.

Golden light explodes from beneath my hand, so blindingly bright that I have to squint against its radiance. It envelops Clara completely, seeping into her wounds and suffusing her entire being. I can sense the damage reversing, organs knitting back together, bones realigning – a miraculous healing on a cellular level.

As my power works its way through Clara's system, I feel Natasha's Abundance energy intertwining with my own. Where my blood might have caused uncontrolled cellular growth, her healing touch guides and tempers the process, ensuring that no cancerous mutations take hold. It's a delicate balance, one that requires both of our complete concentration.

The others gasp and murmur, but their voices seem distant, underwater. All my focus, every fiber of my being, is channeled into Clara, pouring this impossible, carefully balanced power into her fragile form. Sweat pours down my face in rivulets, my muscles trembling with the strain of maintaining this connection.

Gradually, agonizingly slowly, I sense the healing nearing completion. Clara's color improves, a healthy flush replacing deathly pallor. Her breathing steadies, growing deeper and more regular. When I'm certain she's out of danger – and miraculously free of any cellular damage that might lead to future complications – I slowly, reluctantly withdraw my hand.

The golden light fades, plunging us back into the relative dimness of the corridor. I sway, suddenly lightheaded from the immense expenditure of energy, but force myself to remain upright through sheer willpower.

"Dan, Natasha," I pant, each word an effort, "help me get her to her father."

Together, we lift Clara's small body, now blessedly warm and alive, and carry her to the towering robot still pinned beneath the massive pillar. With utmost gentleness, I take Clara's hand and place it in the mech's enormous metal palm.

"She's alive," I whisper, a wave of relief so profound it's almost painful washing over me. "She's going to be okay."

Svarog's fingers close around Clara's hand with a delicacy that belies his massive size. His red eye flickers rapidly, scanning her from head to toe as if committing every detail to memory. For a long, weighted moment, he's silent, the depth of his gratitude almost palpable in the air between us.

Then, with agonizing slowness that speaks to the extent of his damage, he raises his free hand to the back of his head. A soft click echoes in the silence, and he withdraws a chip, no larger than a poker card. With deliberate care, he extends it towards me.

"PROTECT HER," he intones, his voice noticeably weaker, each word an obvious struggle.

"███. ██████. PROTECT THEM."

I accept the chip, cradling it in my palm as if it were the most precious thing in the world. As I do, I notice with growing alarm that the light in Svarog's eye begins to dim, flickering erratically.

"Svarog?" I call out, unable to keep the note of panic from creeping into my voice.

But there's no response. The red glow fades entirely, leaving his eye a dull, lifeless orb. His massive frame slumps slightly, the hand holding Clara going slack.

My hand reaches out, trembling, to touch the mech's metal arm. It's cold, lifeless.

My fingers trace the intricate patterns on his frame, feeling every dent and scratch. Each imperfection tells a story, a history of decades I'll never fully know. The silence is deafening, broken only by the soft whir of cooling systems slowly grinding to a halt.

Without conscious thought, words begin to spill from my lips. "Our Father in heaven..." I pause, the familiarity of the prayer jarring against the alien form before me. Since when do we pray for machines?

Yet I continue, the words flowing unbidden. "...hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done..."

As the prayer continues, I carefully lift Clara from Svarog's now-slack grip. With my remaining arm, I cradle her against my chest, gently guiding her head to rest on my shoulder. Her slight weight and soft breathing remind me of how close we came to losing her, and the heavy price of her salvation.

"...on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread..."

Clara stirs slightly, her eyelids fluttering. I cradle her closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"...and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..."

Tears blur my vision, hot and unexpected. They fall silently, landing on Clara's cheek. She shifts in my arms, responding to the sensation.

"...and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

As the final words fade, a distant rumble shakes the ground. Screams echo from far away, a chilling reminder of the chaos still unfolding beyond our small bubble of grief.

I look down at Clara, her face peaceful in the aftermath of healing. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, the words feeling woefully inadequate. "I'm so, so sorry."

Another scream pierces the air, closer this time. The others shift uneasily, the weight of our next steps pressing down on us all. But for this moment, I remain still, holding Clara, my gaze fixed on Svarog's silent form.

In the distance, the world continues to crumble. But here, in this pocket of quiet, we bear witness to a loss that defies explanation – and a miracle that demands action.

——————————————————————

Countdown to Belobog's Long Night of Solace: 0 seconds, 0 minutes, 0 hours.