A massive curtain of rain poured from the sky, gathering into a vast cocoon heavy with life.
Inside, platinum-white radiance flickered.
The flicker was not without pattern—look closely, and you could see it pulsing like a heartbeat.
Around it, an army of clones stood waiting—faces the same, bodies the same.
They waited for the life inside to emerge, for their god to descend once more into the world.
Within, unseen by any, white and gold stripes wove together, shaping a body.
White hair filled the cocoon. The curled figure within cradled itself like an unborn child about to be born.
It was a humanoid form—thin cicada wings spread behind it, insect traits shielding the vital parts of its body.
Its golden eyes were half-closed, just a sliver of light visible through the lashes.
Eyes that wished to fill the world, to banish loneliness and pain forever.
In those eyes, information flowed like the mirrored reflection of a great tree—
It was learning something there, understanding something.
One glimpse would be enough to twist any observer, to turn them instantly into its servant.
But now, it seemed to notice something unexpected. The silver-white brows knit together.
Its gaze did not fall upon the pitiful lives scratching out an existence beneath the ruins.
Instead—it fell upon its own body. Upon the place where its right hand was missing.
This divine vessel, being built to perfection, had a strange and nameless beauty.
And yet, this sudden flaw shattered that beauty.
The feeling within it dimmed. It had not become a complete Aeon of Propagation.
It had matured from larva to full form—but it was incomplete.
Even if the body were finished, the missing right hand would never appear.
Because its body had been severed by a strange power.
That strike had not been mere physical force—
It had also carried another kind of power, one that could cleave even the divine body at the end of a Path.
Because of it, the flaw remained. Because of it, perfection was out of reach.
Sensing this, the clone army around it seemed to break into a chorus of mourning.
They grieved—for their god’s inability to descend in perfect form.
[It doesn’t matter. I only need to assimilate her, and my power will be whole again.]
Those all-seeing eyes had already given the answer to mending the flaw.
Her body carried power so close to its own that the two had fused together.
Now, it only needed to make her its companion—its own limb.
Then the flaw would be mended. Then it would be an Aeon complete.
And the one who carried a piece of its divine body would become its servant.
[She will become… my Emanator.]
An Emanator who would sow its radiance through Nihility, who would spread the image of companionship through the memories of others.
Then the memories of the universe would be filled with companions, and Nihility would vanish forever.
But until then… a god’s body without perfection could not yet carry its Path across the entire cosmos.
The plan to spread had met resistance from the very start.
So… at the stump of its right arm, countless strands of white-gold light converged—
and shaped themselves into a blade that shone with its own light.
It was forged in the shape of the deepest impression it had retained before ascension.
He had used such a weapon to kill companions.
Then it would use the same form to cast its radiance.
He had spread death and solitude.
It would use the same form to spread the warmth of life.
A strange pulse rippled outward—
And the message it carried was instantly understood by every being who sensed it.
This… was the power of an Aeon.
The clone army around it felt the will of their god.
They began their hymn anew, offering tribute, offering more companions.
Digging through soil. Diving into water.
Roots and worms, algae and fish—nothing was spared.
All were brought before the god.
And within the cocoon, the god swung the blade that embodied life and warmth.
The organic offerings began to change instantly.
Flesh wrapped around roots. Fish swelled into lumps of meat—embryos.
The embryos split—and from them walked faces identical to their own.
Cheering, leaping, the birth of life, the endless propagation.
Its name: Aeon of Propagation, Titanironia.
—!!!!
Hotaru jolted awake.
Looking down, she saw golden lines spreading from her abdomen across her body.
Faint for now, but unmistakable—the platinum lines were beginning to take form.
“…What is this?” She pressed her palm to herself. Something that could alter the flesh like this should, by all rights, feel wrong.
But she felt nothing wrong at all. If anything, her body felt as normal as ever.
It was as if these markings had been with her since birth.
Yet she knew for certain—they had not been there when she was born.
Back when she couldn’t speak, when she was dismissed as defective, she had studied her own body many times.
She knew it better than anyone.
And these golden lines… had only appeared after she absorbed shards of Sora’s armor and unleashed the power to freeze the world.
“Could this… be because of Sora’s power?”
The image of him, in that golden form, burned vividly in her mind.
Turning her head, she looked toward the other bed.
And realized—
The man who should have been asleep there… was gone.
Elsewhere, Sora stared at the giant cocoon glowing gold at the end of the path.
“So… I could only teleport here?”
He had tried to land directly beside her body, but had been forcibly stopped here.
It seemed he would have to fight his way through.
But first, he turned his gaze to the shadows behind him.
“Come out. I know you’re there.”
From the darkness stepped figures who shouldn’t have been here at all—members of the Glamoth Iron Cavalry.
“Sora, I knew you’d try to act alone,” Chenyu said, arms folded.
“Pot calling the kettle black. Didn’t you plan to act on your own, too?”
He had teleported here. The Iron Cavalry couldn’t teleport—so they’d clearly arrived long before him, hiding their presence until he appeared.
“You said you’d rest.” Chenyu’s tone was sharp. “So why is the one person who needs it most standing here again?”
He’d promised to take a break—and here he was.
“You really don’t take your own words seriously.”
“And you’re any better? Seems we’re even,” Sora said with a grin.
At that, some of the Cavalry mirrored his smile.
“Well, we learned from you.”
“That’s right, Sora-senpai. We’re just carrying on your fine example.”
“Exactly! You bragged about being our leader—shouldn’t we pick up some of a leader’s ‘good virtues’?”
The banter went back and forth, as if they weren’t standing within sight of a cocoon glowing white-gold in the distance.
“All my good traits you don’t copy—just this, huh?” Sora muttered.
“Guess we’ll find the rest after we get out of here,” Chenyu shrugged.
“We haven’t known you long enough.”
“So we’ll watch you later, see what’s worth learning.”
“But for now, we’ve learned one thing.”
The chatter stilled.
“…You’ve decided, then? This won’t be easy.”
“When have you ever fought anything easy?”
Her jab froze him for a moment. Then he smiled.
“Then you take the distraction.”
He turned toward the cocoon.
“The main act is mine.”
The Iron Cavalry smiled. “Took you long enough.”
Sora walked forward, red-and-grey coat trailing behind.
The tanuki emblem at his waist resonated with the firefly light in their eyes, shining brilliantly together.
“Now… it’s time to take revenge on the evil god that stole our tomorrow.”
He set the buckle into place on his belt.
‘[ENTRY]’
“[Henshin]!”
‘[BLACK GENERAL!]’
A sudden wind roared around them.
The Iron Cavalry pressed their Fyrefly armor to their chests.
‘[BUJIN SWORD!]’
Black armor locked into place over Sora’s body.
Firefly-light blazed over them—one silver-white warrior after another falling in behind him.
‘[Ready… Fight!]’
—
This is a fan translation of 星穹铁道，骑士力量每周刷新 by 想吃手枪腿 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.