Chapter 166: Dome?

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chen deactivated his Imbibitor Lunae transformation, his form shimmering and resolving back into his own familiar appearance. He seized the final, fleeting instant as the illusion around them wavered, as the other consciousness began to collapse. With his own voice, clear and decisive, he shouted into the chaos.

“You are Dan Heng! A Trailblazer of the Astral Express! Our companion!”

His voice wasn’t a roar, yet it sliced through the last vestiges of confusion and despair clouding Dan Feng’s mind.

“In my heart, in March 7th’s heart, and in the hearts of everyone on the Express, you are Dan Heng! This has nothing to do with Dan Feng’s past, her sins, or her glory!”

“Wake up, Dan Heng! Look at the companions you have now! Think about our days on the Express! That is the real you!”

His words were a key turning in a lock that had been sealed for ages. In an instant, a flood of countless, vivid images shattered the phantoms haunting Dan Heng’s mind.

There was March 7th, a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly put up to it by Chen. He was smiling as he handed over a special drink of a highly suspicious color, one he claimed would replenish cosmic energy. Dan Heng had taken it, his face an expressionless mask, and taken a sip under the boy’s expectant gaze. The bizarre taste made him choke, a deep frown creasing his brow. He saw March’s triumphant, prankster’s grin, and a flicker of helpless resignation passed through his own eyes.

There was Ms. Welt Yang, calmly explaining the wonders and oddities she had witnessed in the vast sea of stars. He would listen in quiet contemplation, and on the rare occasion he posed a question, the approving look she gave him would stir a sense of calm satisfaction deep within his heart.

There was Uncle Himeko in the Parlor Car, pouring his usual coffee, casually preparing a cup for him as well. “It’ll perk you up,” the man had said with a lazy smile, “but don’t drink as much as I do.” A presence that was both warm and unshakably reliable.

There was Qiong, sitting quietly beside him, learning how to handle the Data Bank’s records, her silver-grey eyes filled with a focused, almost innocent curiosity. She would occasionally look up at him, offering a small, trusting nod after he provided a concise explanation.

And then there was that guy, Chen. Always unpredictable, always stirring up some kind of trouble, yet becoming exceptionally dependable at the most critical moments. He could still hear that voice, smiling as it shouted, “Teacher Dan Heng, help!” And he could still see that figure, standing in front of him without hesitation when danger appeared… though, more often than not, the man was just a massive headache.

These images, these emotions, these simple yet deeply real bonds and daily routines… they all belonged to Dan Heng. They swiftly and completely dispelled the heavy, lingering phantom of Dan Feng.

Dan Feng… no, Dan Heng, trembled from head to toe as the last trace of confusion vanished from her eyes. She looked at Chen, who stood before her, and a smile of pure relief bloomed on her face. Her lips moved, as if she was about to say something.

“Chen, I…”

But before she could finish, the surrounding wreckage of the illusion, already on the verge of disintegrating, seemed to fulfill its final purpose. It collapsed entirely, dissipating into nothing.

Her figure, which had only just regained its clarity, dissolved along with it, turning into countless motes of light that were swiftly swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

“Eh?! Wait! Dan Heng!”

Chen lunged forward, his hand grasping at her, but he caught only empty air once again. The familiar, disorienting sensation of weightlessness and absolute darkness descended upon him.

“Dammit! Can’t you even let a person finish their sentence?!” Chen muttered gloomily into the void. “Phantylia’s teleportation service gets a total zero-star review. Forced jumps with no buffer time!”

When his vision cleared, a familiar, biting chill instantly enveloped him. As far as his eyes could see, there was only a pale, desolate land entombed by the Eternal Freeze.

‘Back in Belobog again?’

Chen rubbed his arms. Although the cold didn’t significantly affect his current constitution, the abrupt change in environment still left him feeling a bit unsettled.

“Whose turn is it this time?”

He scanned his surroundings and quickly recognized the area. This seemed to be the very place where they had fought their final battle against Mr. Cocolia. Soon, his eyes landed on a figure.

Someone was kneeling in the snow, their back turned to him. Long, silver-grey hair fluttered in the frigid wind, draped over a familiar coat. The person seemed utterly oblivious to the severe cold that permeated the air.

In her arms, she held someone tightly.

For some reason, Chen’s heart skipped a beat. He lightened his steps, approaching with caution. As the distance between them closed, he finally saw the scene clearly.

The one kneeling on the ground was Qiong.

Her head was bowed low, her long hair falling in a messy cascade that covered most of her cheeks. She was as motionless as an ice sculpture, her arms the only exception, wrapped in a desperate, unyielding grip around the person in her embrace.

And the one she was holding… was Chen.

That version of Chen had his eyes sealed shut, his face a deathly pale. A ghastly, terrible wound gaped open at his chest. Remnants of ice crystals and dark red, scabbed blood were frozen onto the tattered remains of his clothing. He was silent, utterly devoid of life. He was, quite clearly… dead.

Qiong just held Chen’s corpse like that, unmoving, her eyes staring with hollow emptiness at the raging blizzard ahead. There were no tears, no screams—only a bottomless abyss of despair and a silence as deep as death itself. It was as if her entire world had collapsed and frozen over along with the body in her arms.

Chen stood rooted to the spot, feeling his own breath catch in his throat.

‘Phantylia… you motherfucker…’ He understood immediately.

This was a despairing illusion, crafted specifically for Qiong. For this simple, innocent girl who relied on him, who had only just begun to understand the vast sea of stars… what was her deepest fear?

Perhaps it wasn’t some overwhelmingly powerful enemy or an impossible challenge. Perhaps it was simply… loss.

Losing the person she had just begun to trust and depend on. Losing the one who had taken her to see the world, taught her to recognize its wonders, and had always been by her side—himself. And to have that loss happen here, in Belobog, a place where they had experienced so much together, and in such a tragic, violent way…

The void and despair brought by this loss, one she was being forced to experience firsthand, was more than enough to swallow her budding sense of self and all her courage.

Looking at Qiong’s state, as if her very soul had been hollowed out, Chen felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang somewhere deep in his heart. He composed himself, taking a deep breath of the frigid air before stepping forward.

He walked right up to Qiong and crouched down, bringing his gaze level with hers.

Qiong’s hollow eyes moved with painstaking slowness, finally falling on his face. But there wasn’t the slightest flicker of recognition, as if she were looking at a stone, or perhaps… a ghost that had no right to exist.

“Precious Qiong?” Chen called her name softly, waving a hand in front of her eyes. “Look here. It’s me. Alive and warm.”

Qiong had no reaction. Her gaze seemed to pierce right through him, falling back onto the cold corpse cradled in her arms. Her grip tightened even more.

Chen sighed. He knew that conventional methods probably weren’t going to work this time either. He glanced at the lifelike corpse of himself, then back at the living but seemingly dead Qiong. A sudden, absurd feeling washed over him.

He reached out and poked the corpse’s cheek. It was cold and stiff, like a piece of frozen meat.

“Tsk, the workmanship is quite realistic,” he muttered to himself. “Phantylia’s counterfeiting skills could win an Oscar.”

He then turned back to Qiong, his tone becoming serious. “Qiong, look at me. The one you’re holding is a fake. I’m the real Chen. We’re trapped in an illusion created by Phantylia; it’s using what you fear most to torture you. Think carefully. In the real Belobog, didn’t we leave together in the end? Didn’t I board the Express with you, alive and kicking?”

Qiong’s eyelashes seemed to twitch, but her eyes remained utterly vacant.

Chen thought for a moment, deciding to try another approach. He suddenly pointed at the corpse in Qiong’s arms, his voice taking on an exaggerated, theatrical tone.

“Oh my! Precious Qiong, look quickly! Is this fake’s nose moving? He looks like he’s about to sneeze! Oh no, oh no, a dead person sneezing—is he going to turn into a zombie?!”

Qiong: “…”

Not a single reaction.

“Ahem, looks like that trick won’t work.” Chen scratched his head, his eyes rolling in thought. He suddenly clutched his chest, a pained expression twisting his face.

“Ah! This is bad! My heart… my conscience hurts so much! Seeing you so sad, Precious Qiong, my heart feels like it’s been frozen by the Eternal Freeze of Jarilo-VI! I can’t take it, I can’t take it, I’m going to die! Quick, Precious Qiong, give the real me a hug, too! Give me some warmth, or I’ll turn into a second ice sculpture!”

While putting on this flamboyant performance, he reached out to take Qiong’s hand.

Her hand was icy cold. It flinched at his touch, yet she still gave no further reaction.

[Elysian’s Note: Having a good time with the story? Every single bit helps immensely: