(Volume IX: The Year of Immortal Celestial)
["Kevin, by the time you hear this recording, I'll likely be gone. But please, you have to keep living. Heh, I did leave a few things for you, you know? As our hope for overcoming the Herrscher of Finality in the future, you absolutely must listen carefully to what comes next!"]
Sitting by the edge of the crater, one hand resting on the lunar soil still radiating heat, not yet fully cooled, Kevin gazed out at the distant ruins of New Atra. Somehow, MEI's "last words" echoed in his mind once more.
Indeed. Just as he'd thought when he first received that message, he'd had more than enough time to listen to it over and over, countless times.
So much so that the playback device itself had long since broken down, damaged beyond repair from the sheer number of replays. Yet, every word, every syllable of MEI's message was etched into Kevin's very soul, memorized without the slightest possibility of error.
It had reached the point where simply setting foot on the Moon would automatically trigger the memory of MEI's words:
["I made many arrangements before heading to the Moon, including Project STIGMA, which I entrusted to you, the Project VALUKA under Su, as well as Project ARK and Project EMBER. The detailed files for these are saved on the HQ terminal, so there's no need for me to recount everything. It's just that... after this battle, the personnel responsible for each project might need some readjustment."]
"Yes, MEI," Kevin thought, "I did as you asked. Fifty thousand years ago, Su and I were the only Flame-Chasers who made it back from the Moon alive... perfectly positioned to handle the Project VALUKA and the so-called 'worst-case' Project STIGMA."
As for Project ARK... Blanka and Griseo's spacecraft launched forty-five hundred years ago, but it vanished without a trace shortly after leaving cislunar space.
It was a project of questionable significance anyway, so Kevin hadn't pursued it further.
And finally, Project EMBER... Kevin seemed to recall something, shaking his head slightly, pushing the flicker of doubt aside for the moment as he continued to revisit MEI's message.
["But that shouldn't be a major issue. Kevin, I believe that you can lead them, that you will lead them to reclaim everything we've lost today."[
["Besides, it's not as if I didn't prepare a contingency. The 'Prometheus' initiative, Kevin... consider it a special gift I prepared for you. You'll find the details in the HQ archives later. It was secured through Pardofelis's sacrifice—that ten percent chance of defeating the Honkai."]
["Finally, regarding Michael... whether in the past, present, or future, he will always be a source of trouble for you. I understand that, Kevin. But I don't think you need to dwell on it too much."]
["What does he truly intend? What actions will he take? That's not something you can figure out just by thinking about it. We can only focus on the consequences of his actions and move, step by step, towards the future we envision. However, this is just my personal advice. What you truly want to do, what you should do... the decision rests entirely with you now. Kevin, you're free."]
Free... Yes, he was free. But Kevin would rather not have this kind of freedom.
"Hmph..." Kevin pushed himself to his feet. The lunar soil before him was still a blackened expanse, scorched by the Cleaver of Shamash, retaining a residual heat of hundreds of degrees.
For any ordinary human, the combination of energy radiation and intense heat here would be utterly lethal. But for Kevin... it barely registered.
He glanced to his side. The Cleaver of Shamash, long since restored, rested there. An occasional flicker of flame danced along its blade. Compared to its former state, it seemed remarkably subdued now, yet the energy radiation and heat it emitted still far surpassed that of the surrounding environment.
Even for the mass-produced MANTISes of the past, such proximity to the Cleaver of Shamash would have been exceedingly dangerous, risking injury just by being near... but Kevin found a strange comfort in it.
The reason was simple.
Kevin glanced down at his wrist. A frosty chill, tinged with blue, flickered momentarily at the edge of his vambrace. Whether the effects of Mobius's surgery had finally worn off, or if it was a lingering consequence of the battle fifty thousand years ago, he couldn't be sure.
Regardless, while he could still consciously suppress the escape of the intense cold within him, his core body temperature had undeniably returned to its original -30 degrees Celsius.
Fortunately, he no longer had to worry about being unable to embrace MEI.
Fortunately, the Judgement of Shamash, his constant companion, could still offer him some small measure of warmth in this desolate place.
He closed his eyes and silently gripped the hilt.
Through countless days and nights across the millennia, the memory of that final battle hadn't faded. Instead of being washed away by the river of time, its details had only grown sharper in Kevin's mind. He merely had to close his eyes, without even consciously trying to remember, and he could relive every moment of the last time he wielded the Judgment of Shamash.
As if to prove it, his chest rose and fell seventeen times in a precise, almost unnatural rhythm.
The sequence held no special significance in itself; it was simply the exact pattern of breaths he had taken just before unleashing the Judgment of Shamash back then. Every pause, every inhalation, every rise and fall of his chest matched the memory perfectly.
Perfectly matched, because he had never forgotten. Could never forget.
That was the closest he had ever come to godhood, yet ultimately, he hadn't been able to surpass that final barrier.
Still, speaking of Michael...
Kevin opened his eyes and turned. Behind him lay the massive basin carved out by their great battle with Michael, unchanged from fifty thousand years ago, save for one difference—
In the very center of the basin, there was now a cross-shaped indentation, over twenty kilometers long. Only an impression of this immense size could accommodate the stone figure, even in its drastically reduced state.
Yes, compared to the entity whose scale fifty thousand years ago had dwarfed the Moon itself, the statue's current size was indeed drastically "reduced."
Its wrists were pinned by colossal stone spikes. Its head was tilted, positioned as if propped up, yet simultaneously giving the impression of looking down from a horizontally laid cross, meeting Kevin's gaze.
"Michael..."
The statue was riddled with cracks, large and small.
The damage was particularly severe around the chest – less like simple fractures and more like a gaping wound left by a piercing spear. An eerie, faint blue-purple light emanated from these fractured edges.
This was the state Kevin had found Michael in when he first returned to the Moon five thousand years ago.
The Herrscher of Finality had undoubtedly reset the timeline on Earth after they entered their cryogenic pods. But why had Michael ended up in this petrified state? Was he dead? Who could have killed him? Who possessed the power to kill him?
The "wound" on the statue's chest looked like a single large cavity at first glance, but closer inspection revealed what seemed like two puncture marks merged into one. This corresponded disturbingly well with the twin-pronged spear Michael had kept by his side, barely using it until the very end.
Everything seemed to suggest that Michael—the avatar of the Finality that had once descended—might already be dead.
The cause of death was unknown, though it looked suspiciously self-inflicted.
Yet, Kevin couldn't accept this outcome. He still hadn't figured out how he should approach Michael if they ever met again. What stance should he take? Or would their next encounter only happen at the culmination of Project STIGMA?
Regardless, Kevin knew what he absolutely did not want: he didn't want to lose the possibility of meeting Michael again.
Whether as a former comrade-in-arms or as... the betrayer.
Because he had to meet Michael again. And then, whether through words or fists, he would make Michael explain everything.
"Kevin, you might need to return to Earth now."
Su's voice suddenly came through the communicator. Kevin frowned, the reaction barely perceptible.
"What happened? The twenty-four hours aren't up yet, are they?"
Kevin turned once more, his gaze fixed on the ruins of the former command center, as if meeting someone's eyes across the desolate landscape.
"Something... unexpected, yet perhaps inevitable, has occurred. It might require you to return early to handle it."
"Didn't you advise me to interfere as little as possible in the affairs of this era's humans?"
Kevin raised an eyebrow. If it hadn't been for Su's intervention, he would have initiated Project STIGMA a thousand years ago.
The two had nearly come to blows back then. If not for the timely mediation of MEI within the Elysian Realm, perhaps...
Regardless, a rift had formed between them. It had nothing to do with their long-standing friendship, nor could friendship alone bridge it. It stemmed from a fundamental difference in their philosophies and approaches.
As the old understanding went—entrusting Project STIGMA to Su would be tantamount to abandoning any possibility of it ever being executed.
In other words, as long as their goal remained overcoming the Honkai, conflict between them was inevitable.
It was just that... the current human civilization hardly qualified even for a "nascent stage." Having calmed down since then, Kevin admitted to himself that perhaps he had been too hasty a thousand years ago.
But regardless, what about in another five hundred years? Given the current pace of development, human civilization's strength should reach the threshold for Herrscher manifestation around then. At that point, Project STIGMA would have to be implemented.
Su always talked about "giving the current humans more time," seemingly only opposing the premature execution of Project STIGMA. But Kevin knew Su; when push came to shove, he would likely continue to oppose the project altogether.
Kevin knew this full well.
And he was prepared for it.
Perhaps... he would eventually have to raise his hand against his oldest friend, the only other comrade who had survived to see this era alongside him.
But not yet. At least, not now.
Which made Su's current request all the stranger. Su's core principle had always been to give humanity time to develop on its own, minimizing the influence of [Forerunners] like themselves. Why was he now asking Kevin to return to Earth ahead of schedule to deal with purely human matters?
"Su, what exactly happened? Did an Emperor-level or higher Honkai Beast appear?"
"No, it's not that."
Su's quick denial only confused Kevin further. If it wasn't the Honkai, then it had to be a purely human affair.
"Schicksal... the organization born from the intermingling of your lineage and his with the people of this current era... they are preparing for an 'Eastern Expedition' to counteract the devastating impact of the Black Death."
"An Eastern Expedition? So what? Don't you want them to develop on their own?"
"If they exercised some restraint, perhaps it wouldn't be an issue. But the target of their expedition is... Shenzhou."
"Shenzhou?"
Kevin pressed his lips together. He roughly understood the source of Su's concern now.
Kevin ignored the comment about "exercising restraint." Su might have been trying to imply something more, but Kevin was in no mood for riddles.
The crucial point was... Shenzhou.
MEI, ever the scientist, had designed her contingency plans with a certain... experimental quality.
Among the four main projects, VALUKA and ARK held little real significance—at least in Kevin's view. One involved observing other worlds branching off the Imaginary Tree, hoping to find a path to victory against the Honkai elsewhere. The other involved sending proof of humanity's existence out into the cosmos to find a new home.
What did either of those have to do with saving this Earth?
Therefore, Kevin's focus had always been on the other two: the "worst-case" Project STIGMA, and the "best-case" Project EMBER.
One represented the most rational approach, the other, the most emotional.
It wasn't hard to see that MEI had deliberately set them up as contrasting approaches.
Correspondingly, their designated execution zones, as defined by MEI, were also intentionally separated—
Although the Stigmata themselves had been disseminated throughout the entire human gene pool, Project STIGMA was primarily intended for execution in the region corresponding roughly to the former European Branch.
Correspondingly, Project EMBER was designated for focus in East Asia.
The problem was, with only Su and Kevin remaining, and Su already fully occupied by the Project VALUKA, Project EMBER lacked anyone to even begin its execution.
Not that Su couldn't potentially handle both, but when Kevin had looked through the files for Project EMBER, he'd found... nothing. It was a plan with no introduction, no outline, no details whatsoever.
Behind the title "Project EMBER," there was only utter blankness. Initially, Kevin had even suspected a system error during MEI's data upload, perhaps corrupting or losing all associated files.
But that seemed impossible. Project STIGMA, for instance, had undergone numerous revisions, each version meticulously documented and backed up. Project EMBER... truly contained nothing at all.
But none of this was the primary reason Project EMBER remained untouched.
The real reason was singular: forty-five hundred years ago, when Kevin and Su traveled to Eastern Shenzhou to assess the feasibility of implementing Project Ember, they discovered someone else had already been there.
An individual using the alias "Celestial Immortal" was already sowing the embers of civilization in the region.
They had tried to make contact, of course. But multiple trips to Mount Taixuan, where "Celestial" was said to reside, proved fruitless. On their last attempt, they were nearly trapped within a powerful illusion formation surrounding the mountain.
An illusion formation powerful enough to nearly overwhelm Su, a MANTIS specializing in psychic perception. From this, "Celestial's" identity was practically confirmed: she had to be one of the Flame-Chasers.
Given that "Celestial" presented as female, the prime suspects were the psychic MANTIS Aponia or Dystopia, or perhaps Hua, wielder of the Eighth Divine Key, Fenghuang Down. Furthermore, considering Michael's unpredictable powers, he couldn't be ruled out either.
While Kevin and Su had firsthand knowledge regarding the fates of most other Flame-Chasers, the Herrscher of Finality wielded power over time itself. Combined with Michael's inscrutable motives and unclear allegiance... it was impossible to be certain.
"So, Su," Kevin clarified, "you want to intervene in this war between Schicksal and Shenzhou's Ming Empire?"
"Kevin, I believe this might be our best chance to make contact with 'Celestial'. Undeniably, the Ming Empire in the East is powerful. In conventional warfare, Schicksal, in its current state, stands no chance. However, I know that Schicksal, under the guise of combating the Black Death, has developed numerous Honkai-based weapons. Celestial, operating in Shenzhou, would surely not be propagating such technology."
"So," Kevin inferred, "if Schicksal deploys Honkai-based weapons on the battlefield and Shenzhou's forces begin to falter, they might appeal to Celestial for aid?"
"Or perhaps Celestial is already monitoring the conflict. If it remains purely within the realm of human warfare, she might not intervene. But if Honkai energies are involved... she couldn't simply stand idly by. If she truly is one of the Flame-Chasers, I believe she would make that choice."
Su's words made Kevin fall silent for a moment. Knowing Su, he suspected there was another, unspoken reason—
Su was a doctor, after all. He had once dreamed of healing the world. Faced with an impending war, with the certainty of large-scale bloodshed and suffering, how could he possibly remain indifferent?
However...
"Su, give me two more hours. Please?"
"Kevin, you..."
Kevin rarely pleaded with anyone, least of all Su, but now he felt he had to.
He needed to spend the entire day here. It was a habit cultivated over tens of thousands of years, born from her final words—
"Kevin, one last thing... let me tell you a secret. For the Herrscher of Finality, who commands space and time, each of Its attacks splinters countless Bubble Universes off from the main reality. From a probabilistic standpoint, it's almost inevitable that a version of me exists in one of those Bubble Universes."
"If... and I mean if... I really... Heh, the fact that you're hearing this recording says everything, doesn't it?"
"Anyway... if it truly does happen, maybe you could come back to the Moon, on this same day each year. The 'me' in that Bubble Universe... she'll remember. She'll stand at the entrance of the command center, every year, on this day. That way... we'd still be looking out at each other, wouldn't we?"
"That way... we wouldn't be truly separated... would we?"
Kevin took a deep breath, his gaze settling on the collapsed ruins of the command center. Facing him across the expanse was a shattered walkway, the only viable spot left where someone could potentially stand.
Kevin stared at the empty platform, just as he had done for countless days spanning tens of thousands of years.