Brothers

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.

- Proverbs 17:17

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The echoes of battle still ring in Oleg's ears, a stark reminder of how close they came to oblivion.

He trudges towards the mine's entrance, his mind reeling from the events that unfolded half an hour ago. Even after years of experience in both the Overworld and Underworld, after countless battles and hardships, moments like these still leave him shaken to his core.

The Vagrants have retreated from the Great Mine, deterred by the arrival of the Astral Express crew and the formidable presence of Svarog himself. Their thinly veiled threats of vengeance ring hollow in Oleg's ears—empty words to salvage their shattered pride.

As he walks, his gaze drifts to Seele beside him. Her eyes remain fixed ahead, her expression a mask of stoic resolve. Behind them, exhausted miners and Wildfire members trail, their spirits lifted by their narrow escape.

But it's the sight of Dan Heng, the boy in the white coat, that truly captures Oleg's attention—or rather, the figure he carries on his back. Xander, the enigmatic stranger who arrived under inexplicable circumstances, to whom they owe their lives.

The memory of Xander's display of power sends a chill down his spine. The way he dispatched Svarog's minions in mere seconds defies comprehension.

Trailing behind at a slight distance is Bronya Rand, daughter of Cocolia, the current Supreme Guardian of Belobog. Her presence serves as a stark reminder of their bizarre predicament—the daughter of the woman responsible for their suffering, now an ally in their survival. Oleg shakes his head, his thoughts turning to Sampo and his penchant for sowing chaos.

Sampo's knack for complicating matters seems almost intentional, and Oleg can't help but wonder what game he's playing. For now, such concerns must wait.

Oleg's eyes finally lock onto Natasha's blue-gray locks amidst the crowd. Relief washes over him as she swiftly approaches, enveloping him in a tight embrace. He savors her warmth, finding comfort in her presence.

In his peripheral vision, he spots Peak and Antonia. Though visibly injured, they appear in better condition than feared, likely thanks to Natasha's healing powers. Their relieved smiles spark a pang of regret and shame in Oleg's heart. He had failed to protect them, his strength proving insufficient. Silent gratitude towards Qlipoth fills his mind, thankful for Natasha's unwavering support.

As the medic breaks their embrace to examine him for injuries, Oleg's attention is drawn to a girl with distinctive pink hair. March 7th, he realizes, recalling the lancer's conversation with Seele. She rushes towards Dan Heng and Xander, with Sampo sauntering several paces behind.

"What happened to him?" March asks, her voice tight with concern.

Dan Heng's gaze drops, shame flashing across his features before he glances at Xander. "He played the hero again," he mutters, exasperation coloring his tone.

The man's eyes flutter open, a bloodstained smile forming as he focuses on March. "You're okay," he breathes, his voice warm despite its weakness. "I had this terrible nightmare. I saw Nanook and—"

Suddenly, Xander's body convulses with a violent cough. Dan swiftly lowers him to the ground, ensuring he's turned towards the floor as another glob of blood splatters on the stone. The lancer's curse mingles with March's alarmed shouts, prompting the medic to rush to Xander's side, her demeanor shifting to clinical focus.

She gently rolls Xander onto his back, her hands emitting a greenish glow as she channels her healing powers. Xander's eyes remain closed, but his hand finds March's, gripping it tightly. "I'll be okay," he rasps, his voice strained but reassuring.

March's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she looks down at him. "Why do you always have to be so reckless?" she chokes out, her voice a mixture of frustration and concern.

A faint smile tugs at Xander's lips, his eyes still closed as Natasha's healing takes effect. "I guess I'm not very good at looking before I leap," he quips weakly. "My bad."

March's fingers intertwine with Xander's, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of his hand. Her breath catches in her throat, and she bites her lower lip, fighting back the urge to both scold and comfort him.

Xander turns his attention to Dan Heng, kneeling beside him. "Seele, Bronya, and the others... they're safe?" he inquires, his voice growing stronger.

Seele steps forward, her expression a blend of concern and relief. "Worry about yourself for once," she chides gently. "But yes, everyone's fine."

"And the Vagrants?" Xander presses, his gaze intense despite his weakened state.

She nods, her eyes steely with resolve. "Gone. We can breathe easy for now."

Oleg watches as Xander's eyes drift shut, his features relaxing. "Good... good..." Xander murmurs, barely above a whisper. He turns to March, offering a reassuring smile. "Just resting my eyes, March. Promise..."

With those words, Xander's body goes limp, the strain of recent events finally overtaking him. March gasps, her grip on his hand tightening instinctively. Her wide eyes dart to Dan Heng, fear etched across her features.

Dan Heng remains composed, placing a steadying hand on March's shoulder. "He's alright," he assures her, his voice calm. "That attack took a lot out of him. He needs rest."

Oleg nods in agreement. "What he did was... unsettling," he admits. "But we owe him our lives. Let me know when he's conscious. I'll make sure to hear him out. It's the least I can do."

Turning away from Xander, Oleg's gaze falls upon Bronya Rand, standing a few paces away. Conflict clouds her expression as she stares at Xander's still form.

"Miss Bronya Rand," he calls out, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. Bronya's eyes snap to his, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "You and I have much to discuss. Would you join me?"

For a moment, Bronya remains motionless, her conflicted gaze unwavering. Then, slowly, she nods, her expression hardening with resolve. Oleg knows the conversation ahead will be fraught with difficulty, but it's a necessary step in navigating the complex web of Underworld politics and allegiances.

As Bronya falls into step beside him, weariness settles over Oleg's shoulders like a heavy cloak. The night has been long and arduous, but it is far from over. Many threads remain to be untangled, decisions to be made, and battles yet to be fought.

Leading the Rand away, Oleg casts one final glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on Xander's sleeping form. A wry smile tugs at the corners of his lips. For now, the man deserves his rest. But soon enough, they would all need to be ready for whatever challenges the night might still hold.

——————————————————————

I wake up to the familiar ceiling of Natasha's clinic feeling surprisingly well-rested, the aches and pains from before now just a distant memory.

A perk of having a Stellaron, I suppose.

As I glance to the side, I spot March resting on a chair next to my bed, her presence a comforting anchor.

"Back in fighting shape?" Dan's voice cuts through the silence.

I turn to see Dan Heng standing against the wall, his lance gripped tightly. His eyes narrow with concern, but his stance remains coiled, ready for any potential threat.

"Feeling like a new man," I reply, pushing myself up. My gaze lingers on the weapon in his hand. "Expecting trouble, Dan?"

He hesitates, his knuckles whitening on the lance. "In our line of work, always," he mutters, voice low.

I can't help but chuckle at the situation. "Fair enough. Any word from Himeko and Welt?"

Dan shakes his head, his expression darkening.

"Christ," I mutter under my breath. "We need to move. Can't afford to linger here."

I stretch, feeling the tension uncoil from my muscles, before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I make my way to March, who's still lost in dreams, and gently shake her shoulder. "March, time to rise and shine. We need to talk."

March stirs, her eyes fluttering open. "Xander?" she mumbles, recognition sparking in her gaze. "You're up! How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks," I offer a small smile. "But we've got work to do. You up for a chat?"

"Always," March nods, stifling a yawn as she straightens.

I stride to the window, pushing it open to let in the crisp air. Fishing a cigar from my pocket, I light it and take a long drag. The smoke curls into the air as I gaze out at Boulder Town's streets below, my hand resting on the windowsill to keep the ash from falling inside.

As I turn to face March and Dan, ready to dive into our discussion, March's eyes suddenly widen.

"Dan," she gasps, "are you seeing this?"

I glance between them, noting their raised eyebrows and shocked expressions. Unease coils in my gut. "What? Something on my face?"

March shakes her head slowly. "Not exactly your face..."

My unease morphs into a knot of worry. "You're starting to freak me out. What's going on?"

"Xander..." March begins, her voice hesitant, "your hair... it's turning white."1

I blink, her words not quite registering. "Come again?"

March fumbles for her phone, activating the camera. "Here, look," she says, offering it to me.

I take it, my heart racing as I bring it up to my face. The image staring back at me is a shock to the system. My eyes are bloodshot, dark circles a testament to recent ordeals. My stubble has grown more prominent — I make a mental note to deal with that soon. But what truly catches my attention, what makes my breath catch, is my hair.

At the roots, where my dark locks should be, strands of white have appeared.

I stare at the image, my mind reeling. When did this start?

March's voice breaks through my thoughts. "It looks kind of cool, actually, but... is this normal? Are you okay?"

I sigh, handing the phone back to March. Herta's words echo in my mind - less a warning and more one of her scientific rants about my body and her theories. Overusing my powers could lead to excessive stress, potentially causing my hair to lose pigmentation. But for it to happen this quickly...

"Don't worry about it, March," I say, aiming for nonchalance. "I was warned this might happen. It won't affect the mission."

March's expression softens, concern evident in her eyes. "I'm not worried about the mission, Xander... I'm worried about your health."

Her words hit me like a sucker punch. What have I done since waking up in that space station that could be considered healthy? The fights, the stress, the constant alertness - not to mention whatever the Stellaron is doing to my body.

I shrug, pushing these thoughts aside. "I'm fine, March. I promise I'll look into it later. We've got bigger fish to fry right now."

March nods reluctantly, clearly unsatisfied but willing to let it go for now. Dan remains silent, his eyes darting between us, his grip on the lance loosening slightly.

"So..." March begins, her voice hesitant. "Are you finally going to tell us everything? The truth?"

"Yeah... the truth," I confirm, a slight tremor in my voice. I wet my lips, steadying my nerves. "But first..."

I close my eyes, focusing on the Stellaron within me. "Control it," I whisper to myself.

Don't let it overwhelm you... Don't let it consume you...

M̴a̴k̶e̷ ̵y̶o̸u̷r̸ ̸v̵o̷l̷i̴t̷i̸o̴n̷ ̵y̶o̶u̶r̴ ̶p̵i̶v̵o̸t̸ ̴o̶f̴ ̸p̵o̴w̸e̴r̵.̸

Slowly, my senses sharpen as I tap into the Stellaron's energy. My hearing heightens, picking up the footsteps of people in the streets below. My sense of smell intensifies, the city's scent filling my nostrils – a mix of humidity, smoke, spices, and something earthy. I can taste the chill in the air, feel the cold seeping into the building's cracks.

But instead of being overwhelmed, a sense of calm washes over me. The tension in my body fades, replaced by acute awareness. I sense the underground city humming with countless untold stories, each flickering streetlight a chapter waiting to unfold.

Come on, Alexander. You can do this, I tell myself.

It's nothing. Go, whispers my father's voice.

Do it for the Astral Express, echoes my mother.

For the kids of Cali, of Rosario, for those you couldn't reach, Summer's ghost urges.

Put it all together. Solve the world. One conversation at a time, Sebastian finally chimes in.

I breathe in the gritty air, letting it fill my lungs.

I might be anxious.

I might be scared.

But I'm here. I'm alive.

And for now, that's enough.

I open my eyes, turning to face March and Dan, my resolve steadied.

"Xander..." March says slowly, her eyes widening. "Are you okay? Your eyes... they're glowing."

I nod, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, March... just a bit nervous. I'm better now. I was also checking for eavesdroppers." I pause, taking another drag from my cigar. "What I'm about to say... it's not for anyone else's ears."

"Worried Sampo might be lurking?"

"Yeah. I might be an idiot, but not that big of one."

He smirks, a hint of amusement breaking through his stoic facade. "Oh, I know. After that stunt you pulled? For a second there, I thought you actually were that dumb. Maybe even worse."

March chuckles beside us, her laughter lightening the tense atmosphere.

"Oh, you little—" I flick the cigar butt out the window and activate Chronosurge for a split second, the backlash barely registering. In less than a blink, I'm beside Dan, my arm hooked around his head, trapping him in the crook of my elbow. My other hand finds his scalp, and I ruffle his hair vigorously.

Dan's muffled protests fill the air, his words sharp despite being trapped in my grip. "Dammit, Xander! Using Chronosurge is cheating, you reckless idiot!" He struggles against my hold, his voice a mix of frustration and begrudging amusement. "Let go before I make you regret it!"

March's laughter grows, the sound filling the room.

"Look who's got you in a headlock now, huh? What're you gonna do about it—ugh!" My taunt is cut short as Dan's elbow connects with my ribs, freeing him. He follows up with a punch to my shoulder for good measure.

"Ouch. Seems I underestimated the Xianzhou lancer. You've got some hands on you after all," I say, feigning impressed arrogance.

Dan smirks, his eyes glinting with challenge. "What made you think otherwise?"

I respond, my tone light and teasing. "You Xianzhou types and your weapon fixation. Thought you might've neglected the tools you were born with. Guess I'll have to show you better."

"Where'd you hear that nonsense? I'll set you straight. One round, no weapons, no powers."

A contented smile spreads across my face, seemingly catching Dan and March off guard.

"I'm kidding, Dan. I know you'd mop the floor with me... wouldn't even need Cloud-Piercer to do it."

Dan's eyes narrow, confusion etched on his face. "How can you be so sure?"

"...It's not fair, the burden you carry. A prison should never be a child's first home."

Dan's eyes widen, shock and disbelief evident. "You..."

My smile turns sad. "Yeah. I know. And I'm sorry."

Worry and nervousness creep into Dan's eyes. "But... how? How can you— don't tell me we knew each other back then and I—"

I grab his shoulders, locking eyes with him. "Dan! As far as I know, you and I have never met."

"As far as you know...?" he asks, uncertainty coloring his voice.

"Yeah... as far as I know... I'll explain, but first, you need to hear this: I said what I said to drive home a point. I know things I shouldn't."

I take a step back, gathering my thoughts. "I know that by the end of our journey here, we'll face Cocolia. I know that sometime in the future, the IPC will learn of Belobog's sealed stellaron. They'll send an agent named Topaz to collect the city's long-forgotten debt, using it as leverage to force the Architects to sell the planet. I know our next stop after Belobog is supposed to be Penacony, the Land of Dreams, but we'll be interrupted mid-flight and forced to change course."

Dan's eyes widen, his face paling. "What...?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the revelation. "I know all this... because I've seen it. March, Dan, the reason I've been so hesitant to connect with you, the reason I've acted the way I have... is because I'm most likely from another dimension."

Dan and March's expressions shift from tense to confused as I finish speaking.

"Hold up—" Dan starts, his eyes narrowing.

I raise a hand to stop him. "I know it sounds crazy. I know it's too far-fetched to process, but please, let me explain. I'll tell you everything, and if you need proof, I'll share what I can within limits. I'm afraid saying too much might cause irreversible changes, but... we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just... hear me out, please."

Dan's body language remains guarded, his posture tense. Though he projects confusion, I can see a part of him wondering what game I'm playing. March's calming hand on his shoulder helps ease the tension. "We're listening," she says, meeting my gaze.

And so, I begin my tale, the story of a young kid born in a city called Rosario, in a country named Argentina, on a planet called Earth. A place where Aeons didn't exist, where magic was confined to fairytales and fiction, where concepts similar to paths were merely literary devices. A world where humans had only set foot on their home planet, never venturing to others due to technological limitations.

"In that world, the kid grew up, and one day, his best friend introduced him to a story called Honkai: Star Rail. It told the tale of the Astral Express crossing the stars, with its crew members being March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt Yang, and the protagonist, known as the Trailblazer."

March's eyes widen, and she glances at Dan, who remains impassive, his expression unreadable.

"The story had a curious attribute - the protagonist's gender wasn't set in stone. The reader could choose whether they wanted to follow a male or female lead. If you picked a guy, he'd be called Caelus. Go with a girl, and she'd be Stelle. It let you shape the hero to be whoever you wanted them to be."

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what comes next. "The trailblazer would wake up inside the Herta Space Station, memories gone, discovered by Dan Heng and March 7th just as the Antimatter Legion attacked. Their Stellaron would go haywire, and they'd be rescued from destruction by Welt. Right after, they'd be offered a spot on the Astral Express by Himeko to understand the Stellaron, explore the stars, and uncover their origins."

Dan's expression tightens, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand, silencing him.

"They'd travel to Jarilo-VI, only to be stopped by the planet's own Stellaron and forced to land. But as soon as they arrive, Sampo intercepts them, using the group as bait to escape the Silvermane Guards. A clever move, but one that puts them in a tight spot."

Dan's eyes narrow. "And then?"

"The Silvermane Guards take Dan Heng, the Trailblazer, and March 7th to meet Cocolia," I explain. "She's all respect and courtesy, offering them a place to stay after they promise to help with the Stellaron, which they believe is the root of Belobog's problems."

I shake my head, my expression grim. "Come morning, they're branded criminals. What they don't realize is that Cocolia's been corrupted by the Stellaron's influence over the years."

"Corrupted? How?"

"The Stellaron promised to do what the Preservation couldn't: save Belobog," I explain. "But it's all a lie. In reality, Belobog's Stellaron manipulates Cocolia into decisions that gradually weaken the city's defenses against the Eternal Freeze and the expanding Fragmentum."

March interjects, her voice sharp with concern. "But how does this connect to us being labeled criminals?"

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of my knowledge. "It's all part of the Stellaron's game. By branding you outlaws, Cocolia isolates potential threats to its influence. She believes the Stellaron is Belobog's salvation, and your group's arrival throws a wrench in the works. That's where Bronya enters the picture."

Dan's expression darkens at Bronya's name. "What's her role?"

"Bronya leads the Silvermane Guards to capture you. There's a clash, and it's only thanks to Sampo's intervention that you slip away."

"Why would Sampo help us?"

I shrug, a wry smile playing on my lips. "Sampo's motivations are... complicated. In the story, he guides you to the Underworld, Bronya in tow. There, you learn about the place, meet its inhabitants," I elaborate. "But ultimately, you face off against Svarog."

March's eyes widen. "The robot from the Great Mine?"

"The very same. You need intel on the Stellaron's location, how it got to Belobog. Svarog, built by the Architects centuries ago, has been around since the city's founding. Confronting him reveals the Stellaron's growing influence and corruption of all Supreme Guardians, Cocolia included. Armed with this knowledge, Sampo helps you return to the surface to confront Cocolia. It's a tough fight, but you emerge victorious. Shortly after, Welt descends from the Astral Express to seal the Stellaron, while Bronya takes the first steps towards becoming the next Supreme Guardian."

A heavy silence falls as Dan and March process this information. I can almost see the gears turning in their minds, trying to reconcile what they know with what I've just revealed.

March breaks the silence, her voice hesitant. "So you're saying... in your world, wherever that is... you read a story about... us?"

I nod, meeting her gaze. "That's right."

Dan's eyes narrow, his voice carrying a hint of wariness. "That's dangerous territory, Xander. A story has a beginning, middle, and end. Are you claiming to know our future?"

"At least a possible version of it, yes. I didn't finish the whole story, but that's not the most important part. You have to understand something: a story follows a script, and by its very nature, it's limited in what its characters can say and do. But this isn't that. In this universe, or realm, or dimension, whatever you want to call it, you're real, living people. You have biases, desires, habits that shape your worldview and decisions beyond what any writer could imagine. I've already seen changes and events that never happened in the original story."

I pause, letting out a heavy sigh. "The truth is, at first I couldn't believe you were real. When reality finally sank in, I found myself denying your humanity. How could I care? To me, you were just fictional characters from a story I'd read for fun, not living, breathing beings with real emotions. I saw you as nothing more than scripts and tropes, predictable and one-dimensional. Then it hit me - I'd been transported to this world, taking the place of the original Trailblazer, be it Caelus or Stelle. That's when panic set in."

March's lips part in a silent gasp, her eyes narrowing as she processes my words. Her eyes, usually bright with curiosity, now shimmer with a mix of emotions - hurt, confusion, and a glimmer of understanding. Dan, on the other hand, remains a statue, his face an impassive mask. But I notice the subtle clench of his jaw, the almost imperceptible tightening of his grip on his weapon.

"I'm not exaggerating when I say that in my world, paths, Aeons, and magical powers are the stuff of fantasy. I can fight, sure, but only as well as any semi-competent Joe defending himself with his fists. How was I supposed to face the threats I knew were coming?"

Dan's eyes narrow to slits. "But we've seen your powers, your superhuman strength. What about Chronosurge? That stunt you pulled against Svarog's minions at the mine?"

I hesitate, my hand unconsciously moving to my chest where the Stellaron resides. My fingers trace the outline of the implant beneath my shirt, a constant reminder of the power - and burden - I carry. "That..." I start, then pause, gathering my thoughts. "That's just me getting creative with the Stellaron's power. The damn thing's like a nuclear reactor on steroids. When I channel it right, it supercharges my neural firing, cranking everything up to eleven - senses, reactions, speed, balance. And then there's this body..."

Dan leans forward, his gaze intensifying. "Your... body?"

I scratch my arm nervously, feeling the weight of their stares. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. "This body..." I gesture to myself, feeling a strange disconnect. "It's not entirely human."

The lancer's posture stiffens. "What do you mean, 'not human'?"

"In the story, they described the Trailblazer's body as synthesized. I never got the specifics, but it was clear it wasn't your average human form. It could withstand things that should've been fatal, shrug off damage that'd cripple anyone else."

"So, you're saying that your body now..."

I nod, completing March's thought. "It's exactly that. Enhanced. Able to channel and withstand the Stellaron's power in ways a normal human never could. Chronosurge is just an extension of that - a brief, powerful boost to my neural pathways that lets me move faster than the eye can track, while keeping my senses sharp enough to process everything and make split-second decisions."

"And what you did at the mine?" continues Dan Heng.

"That's... like Chronosurge on steroids. Instead of just boosting what my neurons already do, I basically program the Stellaron to make my body react to specific triggers or commands. It bypasses the usual process - sensing, processing, reacting. It's already lightning-fast in living things, but skipping it altogether lets me do things I couldn't dream of otherwise. I gave myself one command: target and destroy all robots except Svarog. Like a computer following an algorithm, I just... moved. One second I'm next to you, the next I'm on the floor, coughing up blood. The in-between? Complete blank. Even this body has its limits. It was a desperate gambit."

Understatement of the year. The first time I tried it in the Simulated Universe, it nearly killed me. A Distorter finished the job soon after. It's only because I've learned to pace myself with the Stellaron and gotten a better grip on the Path of Destruction that I could pull it off at the mine.

Dan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing as he processes my words. The lance at his side seems to vibrate with tension. "And we're supposed to believe you learned all this in just a few days?" His voice carries a hint of skepticism. "If what you're saying is true, the story starts with the Trailblazer - you in this case - waking up confused in the space station and immediately being whisked away on a journey. But that doesn't add up. Sampo knows you, he's known you for a while if we take him at his word."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building like a pressure cooker in my chest. "That's just it," I explain, my voice tight. "In the original story, it's hinted that the Trailblazer was a Stellaron Hunter, or at least tied to them. As a faction, they follow someone who goes by the name of Elio, known as Destiny's Slave. He's said to have the power to see multiple versions of the future."

March's eyes widen, "Multiple futures?"

I nod, continuing. "They're chasing the best possible future for the universe, one that puts the Astral Express up against Nanook to stop them. It's implied that this 'best future' required the Trailblazer's memories to be wiped, have them implanted with the Stellaron from the Herta Space Station, and have them join the Astral Express."

"Wait, wait... are you saying... that's your case too?"

"It's the only explanation I've come up with." My gaze drops to the floor, the weight of my words pressing down on me. "After my accident and blacking out, my next clear memory was waking up to you both. I don't remember doing anything else. And yet..."

I trail off, gathering my thoughts. The room seems to shrink around us, the air growing thick with tension. "I know it's likely true. I was brought to this world, I suspect and fear, about a year ago, at the very least. If Sampo's words are to be believed, he first met me in Jepella during the events of the Rebellion, eight months back. According to him, I was leading a strike force with the Stellaron Hunters to take down the Annihilation Gang's operations on the planet."

March gasps softly, her hand flying to her mouth. The sound seems to echo in the suddenly silent room.

"I... I'm afraid he's right," I continue, my voice wavering. "I asked Sampo things about myself he shouldn't know, and he answered them. In fact, he said my past self knew I'd probably ask those questions and gave him the right answers so I'd believe him."

I can almost hear the whirring of their thoughts, working overtime to align what they've just learned with everything they thought they knew.

March breaks the silence, her voice hesitant, almost afraid of the answer. "Xander... if you were, or at least used to be a Stellaron Hunter, doesn't that mean..."

I finish her thought, my voice hollow, devoid of emotion. "That I've killed people? That I'm probably responsible for chaos that's caused suffering and despair to dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Most likely."

March's gaze shifts. The corners of her mouth twitch downward, and she reaches out, her hand hovering inches from my arm. "How do you..." she begins, her voice catching. She swallows hard, then continues, barely above a whisper, "How are you handling that knowledge?"

The question hits me like a physical blow. I fall silent, the weight of it pressing down on me. A minute passes, feeling like an eternity, before I can answer. I look at her, my eyes glassy.

"I guess I'm... I'm afraid."

I clear my throat, shaking my head, trying to regain control. "I'm afraid of what I might have done. Afraid of having gone against my faith. Afraid of having spit on my parents' teachings. But... I don't know what I did. I don't remember. I'm working with the same information you have."

March opens her mouth to ask something, but Dan raises his hand, stopping her. His face, usually so stoic, shows a flicker of understanding. "I... I understand, in a way, what you mean," he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "So for now, let's set that topic aside."

I grunt, grateful for Dan's intervention, unable to form words past the lump in my throat.

Dan continues, his tone becoming more businesslike, though a hint of concern lingers. "Still, that doesn't explain your powers. You just said it's the Stellaron that lets you do what you do. You didn't have it before it was implanted at the Station. What's the explanation there?"

I scratch the back of my head, feeling the weight of what I'm about to reveal. "I'm probably breaking an NDA but, to hell with it..." I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Back at the station, when Himeko offered me the choice to stay or join you, I went behind your backs and basically convinced Herta to let me be her guinea pig for a secret experiment of hers."

I can see the questions forming on their lips, but I press on before they can interrupt. The words tumble out of me now, like a dam breaking.

"After all, I have knowledge of many things from the story I read, things she'd normally keep quiet about due to their sensitive nature and only discuss with close colleagues. It's called the Simulated Universe." I pause, letting the name sink in. "Its goal is to uncover the truth about Aeons, how they were created, why they were created, and what they were created for."

Dan leans forward, his interest piqued despite himself. "A simulated universe? How does that even work?"

I nod, understanding Dan's skepticism. My fingers drum nervously against my leg as I explain, "Herta and her team created a program that simulates our universe, but streamlined and customized. It throws users into endless combat scenarios, pushing them to their limits, forcing them to unleash their Path powers at full strength. The goal? To trigger interactions with the simulated Aeons."

March's brow furrows, her eyes clouding with confusion. "That sounds... impossibly complex. How could anyone even begin to simulate an Aeon?"

I shrug, feeling the weight of my own ignorance. "Honestly? I'm as lost as you are. The tech here... it's light-years beyond anything I've ever seen."

Her eyes narrow, a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice. "How did you convince Herta to let you in on this?"

I look away, discomfort crawling up my spine. "Trust me, March. You're better off not knowing."

Before she can press further, Dan cuts in, his voice sharp as a blade. "I still don't see how this explains your powers."

Grateful for the change in subject, I turn back to them. "It explains everything," I say, newfound confidence seeping into my voice. "Aeons are enigmas, wrapped in riddles. We barely understand what draws their attention. Herta and her team couldn't be sure that simple combat simulations would be enough to catch an Aeon's eye."

I pause, making sure they're following. "So, they got creative. They warped time itself within the simulation. The ratio? 864 to 1. One minute out here is 14 hours and 24 minutes in there."

"Before we came to Belobog, I spent 3 hours in the SU. That's over a hundred days of simulated time." I let that sink in before continuing, my voice barely above a whisper. "And every night since we got here, after checking in with Welt and Himeko, I've been sneaking back to the station with the help of Space Anchors. Hours upon hours in the Simulated Universe."

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my actions pressing down on me. "I've lived through over a thousand battles in what felt like a year of my life. I've pushed this body to its limits, learned its strengths, its weaknesses. I've wrestled with the Stellaron inside me, learned to bend it to my will. All so I could stand beside you as an equal, not a burden."

Dan's jaw drops, his grip on the lance slackening. The weapon clatters to the floor, forgotten. "What...?" he breathes, his voice barely audible. His eyes dart between March and me, searching for some sign that this is all an elaborate joke.

March takes a halting step forward, her hands clenched at her sides. Her bottom lip quivers. "Xander..." she starts, her voice cracking. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Why didn't you tell us? All this time, you were... Aeons, what were you thinking, putting yourself through that?"

I meet her gaze, my voice soft but unyielding. "Because I had to be better, March. This mission... it's everything. And I was useless. Whatever skills my past self had, they vanished with my memories. I had to become someone worthy of the Astral Express. If I didn't..."

"If you didn't...?" March prompts, her voice barely audible.

I swallow hard. "If I didn't, the future I glimpsed in that story might never come to pass. After Belobog, a member of the Stellaron Hunters, Kafka, is supposed to intercept us. I need that to happen. The Stellaron Hunters are ghosts, March. This might be my only shot at cornering one."

"Why are you so desperate to meet this Kafka?"

I meet Dan's gaze, resolve burning in my eyes. "Because in that story, she's the one who put the Stellaron in the Trailblazer. Odds are, she did the same to me. I need answers, Dan. About my origins, my purpose, why I allied with them. She might not have the answers, might not want to give them, but I have to try. I need to know why I'm on this path."

Silence falls again, heavy and oppressive.

"Well..." Dan says finally after a minute, his tone surprisingly matter-of-fact. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

My eyes widen, disbelief flooding through me. "What...?"

Dan raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You heard me. We've got a job to do. Belobog needs our help."

I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of his casual acceptance. "Just like that? What about everything I've told you? The possibility that I was a Stellaron Hunter?"

Dan's gaze softens, just a fraction. He lets out a small sigh. "Xander, you said it yourself. We're working with fragments of information here. We don't know what you did, or if you did anything at all. For all we know, Sampo's full of it, or maybe you did the best you could with the hand you were dealt. We won't know until we deal with this Stellaron and do some digging of our own."

His words wash over me, and I feel something tight in my chest begin to loosen. Dan continues, his voice steady and sincere. "I've gotten to know you, at least a little. You might be an idiot sometimes, and a royal pain in the ass others, but your heart's in the right place. If it's judgment you're after, you won't get it from me. I don't have that right. The Astral Express gave me a second chance at a lot of things. Maybe it can do the same for you."2

I stand there, speechless, as March slowly approaches. Without a word, she wraps her arms around me, her face pressed against my chest. I freeze, caught off guard by this sudden display of affection.

"Remember what we promised when we first met at the station?" March's voice is muffled against my shirt. "We said we'd help you find your friends and family. That promise still stands."

Something inside me cracks at her words. I enfold her in my arms, holding her tight. My eyes squeeze shut as I fight back the tears threatening to spill over. The emotions I've bottled up for so long come crashing down like a tidal wave, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to completely break down.

We remain like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by our soft breathing. When we finally part, I feel lighter somehow, as if a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders.

What follows are hours of conversation, the three of us talking well into the night. We dive deep into our fears, our hopes, our dreams, the talk of this supposed future long forgotten. I find myself opening up more than I ever thought possible, sharing stories of my home, my world so alien to theirs.

I tell them about my parents - my father, a hard-working man with a razor-sharp wit and an even sharper sense of humor; my mother, whose boundless love and unshakeable faith molded me into who I am. I speak of Sebastian, my best friend, the brother I chose rather than was born with. His sarcastic quips, his brilliant mind, his uncanny ability to make me laugh even in my darkest moments.

And then there's Summer. My voice grows soft as I describe her, this girl who was like the sun incarnate. Her radiant smile, her contagious laughter, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she was truly joyful. I recount our first date, how my nerves were shot, and how she calmed me with just a touch of her hand.

As I speak, a realization dawns on me. I've been so fixated on survival, on unraveling the mystery of my presence here and finding a way back, that I've neglected something vital. I've forgotten to live, to connect, to be human.

I look at March and Dan, truly see them, and I'm overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude so powerful it nearly knocks me off my feet. How foolish I've been, thinking I needed mere allies, pawns to manipulate in this strange new world. I had it all wrong.

I don't need allies. I need people. As many as I can find. And as I sit here, basking in the warmth of their acceptance and understanding, I should thank God and feel blessed that he's given me the best people.

I take a deep breath, and for the first time since I woke up in this world, a sense of peace washes over me. Whatever challenges await us, whatever dangers we may face, I know now that I'm not alone.

And that knowledge, more than any power or cosmic understanding, fills me with hope.

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