――Cecilus Segmunt is a “Star Reader.”

This introduction has already been made, so it’s now discarded.

――Cecilus Segmunt is the star actor of this world.

This fact continues to be proven through performance rather than words, so it’s rather tiresome to explain.

――Cecilus Segmunt is one of a kind in this world.

This assertion isn’t limited to Cecilus alone, which is a headache-inducing matter.

――Cecilus Segmunt is Cecilus Segmunt.

This definition feels most fitting, so the beginning of this narrative will adopt this.

Then —

△▼△▼△▼△

――Cecilus Segmunt is Cecilus Segmunt.

Sworn to the heavens, this fact is an unshakeable premise for Cecilus.

No matter what happens to me, even if I have become a tall, handsome young man with long limbs and charm, as people around me say, that would only be the “Before Cecilus.” In this very moment, only Cecilus Segmunt exists — the self that is solely me.

Thus, I shall prove it.

“Let the observers above bear witness — to which path the world will choose.”

With determination, I tie my hair back tightly with a piece of my clothing and slap my cheek with both hands.

Such a way to rally my spirits is rare for Cecilus, but obvious emotional changes are essential for storytelling. By inserting such a depiction, the audience is made aware that the stage has transitioned along with the actor’s feelings, signaling the shift to the next scene.

After doing this, Cecilus tilts his head and mutters, “By the way…”

“It seems everyone has turned out to be surprisingly reasonable. You may resume your usual chat without any issues.”

『●●■▼●■●！』『▼■■――』『■■■■■！！』『▲■■▲●●●■▲●●▲▼■●▲■■●●●』『●■●●■■■！』『――▲▼▲』『●●▲▼▲●●』『■●▲●■■●●▲■●！　●■●！　▲▼■！』『●●■■■▼●■――』

Suddenly, the audience, who had been forced into silence, erupted with shouts, as Cecilus nodded inwardly in agreement with their normal chatter, regaining his rhythm.

Cecilus, who is continuously gratified by their unwavering gaze upon him, found it astonishing that he had managed to bring silence to them just now. It was a surprising action even for himself, and they must have been immensely shocked to fall quiet just like that.

That realization brought him comfort, surely a promising start.

After all —

“—I’m about to show the one who underestimated me.”

Just then, a flash of light pierced Cecilus’s face.

“Ceci—”

As Al called out to the smile gracing Cecilus’s face, he instinctively tightened his grip around the blue dragon blade at his neck. But he hesitated at the last moment.

He understood that the image of Cecilus with his face pierced was merely an afterimage of him dead.

And then —

“You’d be better off keeping your distance.”

Just as those words reached Al’s eardrums, Cecilus’s afterimage shattered, and a shockwave spread.

The sound that arrived after the flash of light burst through the space, expanding destruction as the resonant waves detonated, and the once recognizable street disappeared in a circular blast over several meters.

“Whoaaah!?”

Al’s scream echoed, swept away by the aftermath of the attack; however, Cecilus, facing forward, didn’t even allow it to enter his periphery. He didn’t completely ignore it either.

Picking up on Al’s previous movements, his physical capabilities, his last positioning, and the way his screams faded, Cecilus imagined the unseen figure of Al in his inner theater as a natural performance effect derived from the attack’s characteristics.

Most likely, that would come to fruition. After all, this state was the most visually impressive one.

――An actor may not see the edges of the stage, but an actor must understand the edges of the stage.

This expands the senses — no, it expands the realm of imagination.

Cecilus places himself at the center of the stage and devises the movement of the actors and stage effects to suit his preference, dashing towards the realization of the most visually striking development globally.

“—”

As Cecilus danced along the razor’s edge of death, the transformation of the heroine floating above progressed.

Having taken his full powered hand-sword attack without flinching, the heroine had transformed into a stunningly ethereal form, adorned with many fine magic crystals sprouting from her slim shoulders and arms, resembling shining wings.

Among the truly beautiful sight, particularly eye-catching were the bands of light encircling the heroine, softly caressing the sky — these were the thinly constructed magic crystals.

Almost inexplicably, illuminated by the red glow of the burning cityscape, the magical bands took on the appearance of a silky veil dancing in the wind, and for a moment, they shot across the world towards Cecilus.

The same type of magical weaponry that sent Al flying previously charged towards Cecilus’s illuminated face, aglow with excitement — closing in, closing in, closing in —

“—Phew. Now, that’s an interesting taste. It’s kind of like… gem-flavored?”

In a split second, Cecilus extended his tongue to test the flavor of the band of light, narrowly avoiding getting pierced through the center of his face. The sensation on his tongue felt soft yet rigid, and the taste was akin to a precious stone.

The appearance resembling candy and that familiar letdown encountered when rolling a gem around in his mouth — in other words, the heroine was enveloped in a belt of jewels.

“Oh right — in the beginning, they were shooting light and fire, but they shifted into stone columns and earth hands and feet midway. So the jewels are probably in extension of that… Quite elegant; I do love it! This really ramps up the climax!”

Pulling back the tongue that had tasted the band, Cecilus erupted with laughter, the rush of excitement rising within him.

Facing a heavenly maiden adorned in a robe of gems in such a crucial, high-stakes moment was something to be respected. Moreover, he spontaneously comprehended the outcome of their previous exchanges.

Cecilus’s rapid hand-sword had the power to slice through not just stone walls but iron fortresses as well. However, he had heard whispers that there might be gems within that were even harder.

In other words, the heroine he faced was—

“—a celestial maiden of diamonds!!”

The moment the words escaped his lips, the diamond belt shot from the heroine’s heavenly attire.

The spear of light spiraled forth, cutting through the world as it rushed towards Cecilus—twelve strands in total, minus the one he had evaded and tasted, coming at him from all directions.

It was truly a domain filled with ‘death,’ akin to rainy droplets within a storm, commanding one to dodge the mountain of corpses and river of blood —

“If it’s necessary! No matter if it’s raindrops or grains of sand, I shall evade!”

The wild eleven strands of deadly light, one returning to make twelve strands, deftly twirled around as he navigated through them.

To be struck would mean death, hence to die would lead to doom, and doom would spell the end.

He found his toes on the verge of being cut, blood spurting from his chest wounds, wedging his diminutive form through the gaps of the angular strands in stubborn defiance. How about that? If this were an adult’s body, I wouldn’t have been able to slip through these gaps, so considering various factors, I believe this counts as a win for now.

With victory in hand and a decision to keep winning to claim more, Cecilus bared his teeth and laughed—

“Now’s the time to unleash my imagination!”

The onslaught of attacks relentlessly hammered down, and though severe wounds bled forth, he ignored them all.

Within the heat of battle, Cecilus’s thoughts accelerated with astonishing clarity. The earlier grand performances received awe and roaring applause. But if it continued like this, he would slip into boredom and lose the audience altogether. Thus, Cecilus shifted all functions into gear for peak performance on the stage.

—First, he cut off the function to perceive color, plunging reality into black and white.

While the vibrant colors of the world had vanished, there was a unique essence of things that could only be expressed in monochrome.

—Next, he cut off the function to distinguish sound. The voices of the audience, the sound of his heartbeat, the roar of the wind tearing through and the sounds of the stage falling apart were left behind.

The world without sound seemed dull, yet there was a flavor to enjoying this discomfort. It was a joy only discovered in such an environment, struck by the adeptness of an actor’s gestures and facial expressions.

—Furthermore, he cut off sensations like pain, taste, and smell. With his body fully committed to the fight, his mind became entirely focused on the spark of thought, opening the curtain to his inner theater of imagination.

“—Now then,”

Pausing for a moment in the monochrome space filled with the rapid attacks of the celestial diamond belts, Cecilus observed his own well-displayed struggle with satisfaction.

Expressing the acceleration of thought imaginatively felt like extending a brief moment, though such omnipotence was not without its limitations. While a star actor might shine in their ability to sustain the stage, there was a limit to captivating the audience without progress. Stories shake the heart only when they move.

Though the diamond maiden had pleaded with tears, making Cecilus boil with anger, he needed to find a way to motivate the ever-slowly progressing situation by twisting the meaning behind her appeal to suit him.

“—”

Logically speaking, she was connected to Cecilus. Perhaps there was a core fan who knew of the famous Cecilus, but as far as thinking forward from here, whether that was true or not mattered not at all.

What was important was that her recognition of Cecilus Segmunt wasn’t the current him but the tumultuous “Before Cecilus” that often made headlines.

If someone else were to hear her plea, they would surely scoff at it, and indeed, Schwarz and Tanzer had been aghast, but that earlier “Before Cecilus” conversation piqued no interest in Cecilus.

Regardless of what was said, it felt like somebody else’s business; no matter what he did, it resembled someone else’s shadow, leaving behind nothing but somebody else’s fare.

That was the very essence of Cecilus, and thus it was clear to him that the separation between before and after was complete in his mind. Apparently, the heroine, who was in a predicament akin to being thrown up because of her stolen food, shared the same sentiment.

The heroine did not equate “Before Cecilus” and “After Cecilus” as one.

“That in itself is something to celebrate, but there’s a palpable dissatisfaction in the fact that it’s not me who’s required.”

As Cecilus pondered, a distinct other Cecilus hopped into view beside him.

Now, although he had just declared that “Before” and “After” Cecilus were separate, it became somewhat conflicting that another Cecilus appeared here. However, having a conversing partner certainly made things smoother.

“Well, let’s think of this as a natural result of high concentration amplifying the acceleration of thought. What matters now is the heroine’s story.”

“I believe it’s more of my stance toward her. Of course, when observing the boss or Tanzer, you could easily envision the chemistry between important characters and their heroines that hadn’t existed before.”

“Does that mean some chemistry exists between her and me?”

“Who knows? After all, what intention did I have when choosing her for a heroine?”

“Oh, just a whim!”

“A whim, huh~”

“But, but the live feeling described by the boss is not to be underestimated. Instinctive and snap decisions lead to inspiration based on gut feelings, and I’ve followed my instincts on many occasions, haven’t I?”

“That’s true. So the current situation must also be a result of following my instincts, and hence, proceeding to do so moving forward seems optimal?”

“That’s the feeling I’m starting to get. However, that brings us to a point — I’m somewhat uncomfortable that my instincts are being relied on in none other than the current Cecilus Segmunt.”

“I see. But what the heroine is seeking is not the current me. What’s being requested is the “Before Cecilus,” likely because she thinks the “After” version might not be able to do what the “Before” could.”

“Oh, then if the current me surpasses the previous version, the issue is resolved!”

“Agreed!”

With both Cecilus nodding in agreement, they reached a compromise that satisfied them both, but soon a minor dispute broke out over which of them would return to being the real Cecilus, leading to a fruitless debate on which of them truly held the essence of Cecilus’s soul.

Just then, the moment they finished debating, time returned to normal speed for the real Cecilus, and he resumed dealing with the twelve deathlines produced by the diamond belts of the heavenly maiden.

“—It seemed slow, yet the perceived speed is incredibly fast!”

The twelve dancing bands of light each had their own will and, unlike normal weapons, established erratic trajectories akin to living creatures. Attempting to strike them with his hand-sword would leave deep gashes on whatever part touched them. The sharpness surpassed even Rauan’s cherished “Onibami,” marking it as a seriously tough opponent.

Yet even with the beautifully dangerous diamond belts closing around him, Cecilus thought to himself.

“The phrasing ‘kill me’ grants the idea that within her mind, the Cecilus residing there can manage this.”

This means, in the heroine’s perception, if that version of Cecilus were in play, he could easily break through the encirclement of diamonds and ultimately stop her heart right on the spot.

Naturally, Cecilus intended to surpass that previous incarnation, so surpassing it was a prerequisite—

“What if I dodged without touching the Before version?”

His thoughts sparked for the hurdle he had set to overcome himself.

“If the specialized ‘Before Cecilus’ had avoided the advancing attacks completely, the merged ‘After’ and ‘Another Cecilus’ would create a scene that didn’t merely evade!”

The diamond belts aimed for his head, beams of light encroaching upon his torso, sweeping to target his legs. He inclined his head, twisted his body, hopped over with one foot after another, leaned back, crouched, extended his knees and jumped in a flawless exercise of evasion — the result being —

“This is a display of light’s ayatori!”

Continuing to evade the twelve independent light strands yet guiding them to intertwine and create a network, it manifested the “Tokyo Tower.”

During the journey from Gladiator Island, Schwarz had once showcased this yarn trick as a passing amusement — a rare moment of delight for Tanzer while bringing about an embarrassed blush in Schwarz.

Of course, executing such a stunt was mostly futile.

The diamond belts, crafted from immense mana, had no limits on their lengths; they could easily dissolve crafted knots and reconstruct to return to their original form as if nothing had happened.

It wouldn’t do for him to triumphantly bask in the belief that he had sealed off his opponent’s attacks through this.

Instead, it simply solidified the certainty he felt.

“I can surpass myself.”

He had never laid eyes on the actual item. There hadn’t been a direct comparison.

But Cecilus firmly believed that the Before version couldn’t have created this “Tokyo Tower,” since he never envisioned it.

Thus, while the Before Cecilus might have dodged wholly, the current Cecilus successfully set the stage beyond mere evasion, achieving a feat of drama.

“—”

Immediately following that certainty, the formation of light that cascaded downward began to dissolve beneath Cecilus.

Once again, it transformed back into mana; the process of reformation was anticipated — but it was slightly unexpected when an explosion of colorless energy occurred at the moment of disbanding.

Simply canceling it wouldn’t cut it. This was a declaration of rebellion against being played with —

“You’re quite the competitive one, aren’t you?”

Once again in a colorless world, even his voice seemed to be disregarded amidst the silence, Cecilus admired the heroine who had devised that previous attack from afar.

And while he admired her, a colorless beam of light began rising from beneath.

If struck, it would nullify the progress made while dodging the light blades, and with his body suspended in midair, he would be at a significantly lower capacity to evade.

This was alarming, alarming, alarming, alarming — such feelings ignited within him.

――Once more, he expanded his inner theater senses and initiated a full-body function gear shift.

Visual perception retained, auditory perception stayed constant. He revived his sense of pain and touch, instantly overwhelmed by the surge of agony, all hidden behind a grin of determination, seeking a “key” within a fraction of a second.

If he possessed that, he would uncover the “key” to flipping the script to the next scene.

“—Found it!”

As he exposed his nerves, exposing them to the wind in an act of transcendent audacity, Cecilus’s elevated foot met something.

Not some fortuitous wall or building; what he connected with was the wreckage from a collapsed city block caught amidst the fight between him and the heroine — a fragment, a small stone.

He would use that as a foothold.

“Just…”

Feeling that minute sensation against the bottom of his feet, Cecilus’s body bounced in midair.

In order to evade the oncoming colorless destruction, he further stomped upon the twisted wood, cracked glass, and finally, larger chunks of ash to vault himself to safety.

“How can I achieve such a thing? Because I can!”

He needed to convince them that what he was doing was indeed possible.

Overriding various principles and concepts, Cecilus’s experience of fleeing to the skies was an affront to common sense. Anyone witnessing such a feat might call it a miracle, but for Cecilus, such spectacles appeared daily, mere facets of the miracles that colored the world around him.

And as he continued to spark miracles—

“—Impatience causes reality to bare its fangs.”

Running from the unreasonable rise of attacks, before the validity of his escape could materialize, a colorless beam burst forth and tore through the outer layers of the light bands aiming at the airborne Cecilus.

The twelve beams spiraled together, streaming towards Cecilus, radiating out like flowers blooming to snatch him.

There was truly no escaping the field of “death,” as lockdowns turned lethal.

“—Don.”

An explosive sound boomed, amplifying the very noise like a thousand-fold explosion that rattled the battlefield.

Unfortunately, Cecilus couldn’t hear this, having shunned sound altogether, but those present — the heroine and Al — felt a wave of pressure. The air charged with desperation was most certainly the palette of complaints.

As he left the sound behind, Cecilus, capable of swift reflexes, understood the existence of air walls. Kicking against those wouldn’t come easy, but even if considered a rookie actor, it bore no meaning to underwhelm him.

Even if thrown into impromptu scenes, the star performer must play their part perfectly.

Thus, as the explosive sound resonated, Cecilus’s body was catapulted downward. He accelerated to dive, evading the closures of the diamond flower’s bloom, landing on the ground.

As Cecilus struck deeply into the earth, he stirred a collision echoing with the might of lightning.

He’d left one leg mangled into a ruined state, but the impact of his stance was not lost, as both aspects — the swiftly achieved victory or the triumphant stance of enduring injury — created an aesthetic that was tough to choose between. The afterthoughts of every “what if” that lingered post-battle would only serve to disrespect the audience. With blood-stained chests held high, he pressed onward, onward, ahead —

“—Ten steps!”

Estimating the distance to the heroine in the air, he deliberately stepped forward with the bloodied foot.

With this move, the once-closed bloom of petals expanded outward once more, the diamond petals showering down like spores directing towards Cecilus, who took a large stride away from them.

“—Nine steps!”

The spaces to the left and right of Cecilus warped as twisted stone columns exploded forth.

The equipment-based attacks that weren’t diamond belts activated anew, friction grinding against the ground as he pushed against his right foot, navigating the now frantic storm of stone columns while most would be crushed against them.

“—Eight steps!”

Emerging from the shattered ground, multiple cube-shaped rocks as large as a house hovered, attacking like a torrential downpour of projectiles.

Cecilus extended his upraised left knee; as his foot met the tip of a spear from the rocks approaching him, he used the fatal blow to leap into the rain.

“—Seven steps, six steps, omitted from here!”

Adapting without hesitation to unforeseen circumstances, resetting the count, he wove through the storm of stone columns that seemed to reject the After-Cecilus and closed the distance that once felt infinite.

The heroine, intent upon unleashing her fury in such a way that only the Cecilus she recognized could draw near, didn’t hold back.

That chaotic resolve left her on his breath, and as he observed, Cecilus was determined to demonstrate he could reach her even now.

This rivalry was unequivocally one for the books, a cataclysmic stand-off deeply engrained within imperial history.

He resolved to overcome this challenge, yet what lay beyond was not an end goal — but an urge, a necessity to win.

“—Two steps!”

Launching both hands to blast away the stone column barring his path, Cecilus calculated the distance to the now-revealed heroine lying behind the obstruction. He spotted her soaring at ten meters above, marveling at how his instincts proved on the spot and lunging to close the distance.

“—”

Just then, after the moment of breakdown and constituted reform, the eleven renewed bands of light reemerged to block his path.

Having escaped through the storm of columns, the heroine focused her gaze upon Cecilus anew. At that moment, the tips of her radiant bands of light sharpened as they widened, splitting into, almost unfathomably, two dozen, twenty-four, forty-eight, ninety-six, one hundred ninety-two, three hundred eighty-four, and so on—

“~~”

Their number spiraled out of control, glowing beautifully in the air, falling like a waterfall toward him.

To the left, right, and behind lay a dense thicket of stone columns that sealed his escape route; the only avenue available was straight ahead. The falling droplets of light were lethal even to once graze.

—Lethal, unavoidable, lethal, unavoidable, lethal, unavoidable —

“—”

With color gone, sound silenced, Cecilus found himself enveloped by the looming threat of a possible “death.”

Before that unavoidable fate caught up to him, he reflected upon the miracles that had stacked favorably thus far.

Amidst the ruined state of his knee and the gaping wound in his chest, he summoned the will to fight on, decisively, and drew strength from the sight of the relentlessly weeping heroine.

Then —

“—!”

On cue, an object slid into view of his outstretched hand in perfect timing.

—A total of twelve thousand two hundred eighty-eight times.

Al had spent that many tries understanding his part in this theater.

“—”

Cecilus, with his hair gathered, immediately shifted focus based on reasons entirely unknown to Al, but the combat accelerated further into a realm that mocked his intervention.

He knew from the outset that he couldn’t do much here.

Within the confines of this designated domain, he had experimented nearly two hundred times, yet there had been only two chances for intervention. Those two were indeed meaningful, but amidst this fast-paced combat, Al never had a single opportunity to step in.

From the start, he was unable to withstand even the aftermath of Arakia’s target-seeking attacks.

Unlike before, when she unleashed mana wildly, her current strikes were clearly refined and destructive — her light trails wreaked devastation, and those caught up in it, like Al, became victims repeatedly.

What was he supposed to do, simply being there might cost him his life.

But he had no werewithal to abandon intervention or to escape the battlefield altogether. If he didn’t act soon, Cecilus would be slain by a band of light before reaching Arakia.

In pursuit of shifting the unchanged outcomes, Al sought an opportunity to intervene yet again — only to become mired in collateral damage again. He had faced the same situation countless times and had realized the position details and pitfalls, but still couldn’t escape being vaporized by a light strand while distracting Arakia.

—Just before the innumerable light bands spiraled down mercilessly, Cecilus raised his hand to the heavens.

“—”

At first, Al thought perhaps Cecilus was aiming to release a desperate palm strike. Yet, he soon realized Cecilus’s hand made no movement in that expected manner.

Rather, he noticed that his fingers were splayed wide open to the sky — it was a confusing sight, an odd display, eliciting thoughts of a surprise magic spell that would see him bursting into light, although Cecilus broke through piles of fiery probability seamlessly, evaporating into thin air.

“—”

After confirming that, Al found himself unable to intervene, and the repeated attempts accumulated into an unproductive result.

The super-speed battle delivered results like a blink; verification of circumstances, assessment of possibilities, and turning ideas into action amassed devastating losses at an escalating pace.

Even though the fear of defeat did not disturb him, the truth that he struggled in the face of the inevitable glimmered within him.

He hesitated to retreat where required, rebounding into a maze that veered off course, stricken by an intense regret only to be consumed once more.

Yet, while Al acted desperately, Cecilus gave no indication that he’d turn around. Arakia paid no heed to Al. It only resonated with a maddening frustration.

As if they were merely embroiled in a conflict intended for them alone, they were reminded of it again and again in ways that churned within.

—But what if it wasn’t like that?

“—”

That possibility fluttered at the edge of his mind, and Al promptly shunned it.

He had witnessed hints of sprouting thoughts before that never yielded positive results, all being lost to the consuming flames of doom.

Yet, that moment was different, allowing for the opportunity to grasp a continuity to the next act.

If that were true, say, if an opportunity for intervention lay languishing just beyond reach.

“—”

Resolutely, Al chose to latch onto that emerging idea.

Cecilus dodged through every attack, inching closer to Arakia. The various strands of shimmering light twinkled and divided, enveloping the world in a presentation of catastrophe.

The in-between void could yield the chance for him to fully grasp just what he needed to resolve this ordeal.

In the process, he noticed that Cecilus had licked one of the light strands.

At another moment, he saw Cecilus bounce from a point in midair, stunting hope for escape with fragile bravery.

And at yet another juncture, he discovered that there were indeed small stones and ashes that Cecilus had kicked off, causing him to recoil.

As he understood and understood and understood again, he ventured forth.

Cecilus, or perhaps — perhaps, just perhaps — he was reaching for the moment of clarity before him.

“—”

Al pondered what was expected of him as the startling revelations crystallized.

The demands rose absurdly high, outweighing chances that danced in his head. Yet Al couldn’t shake the inkling growing within him.

Whether to leap down, stay still, or enter a conflict with Cecilus remained clouded; confusion enveloped the air of independence.

“—”

The ensuing struggle felt protracted. Nobody understood him. It didn’t require explanation.

He had to survive to the moment—that moment needed to arrive—he must intervene.

His battle involved meticulous trials in a bid to not merely stay alive.

And that motivated him — the pursuit of arrival and arrival, culminating in the same outcome.

Well, this, he thought — as he forged through the murky sensations dredging into his relationship with Cecilus — would not come close to that glory.

“—Let go, master actor!”

The feeling of being given a second chance in the face of disaster, far from hopelessness.

As the brilliant azure dragon blade illuminated the lightstorm, an unspeakable drive surged onward.

That blade belongs to light.

Thus a crunch of blood-red concluded his voyage.

In the well-lit office bathed in sunset glory behind him, Cecilus Segmunt fell before a delicate bloom disguised in gemstone-colored robes— Arakia had been blasted backward, struck beyond his rage.

That he lost consciousness at his yield, he operated by an unquenchable will.

“—It’s hot,”

his consciousness bellowed as clashing gleams battered wildly.

But, his senses heightened even past this scene, diminishing memories paled beneath what had just unfolded—the anticipated sunsets blazed across an imagined sky, twisting as the real and dream on the edges intertwined.

However, nothing long-lingering returned — he borrowed the blade of dreams from the grasp of nothingness.

“—this… will become a nightmare.”

Defiance returned through the visage of death, the cursed balance tipped righteously — and Cecilus bared a renewed force towards the heavenly maiden bound by powers.

It was a promise between Cecilus and the distant view that Al held dear.

—Confirming a distance, resolving this chain, its path burned away behind him.

Thus spoke truth—

“—If I must, then I shall.”

And while the diamond strands fell upon them, the still image refused to fade, pulling Cecilus into the endless hourglass, filled with every memory that deemed his very essence miraculous; tallied not just by inches of mundane light.

The truth-set battle wage forth.

But as the curtain dropped in the confines of the battle, the beautiful curtain raised upon the depiction of Utopia remained closed behind its haunting visage.

It wouldn’t bend easy.

And so, mirroring his stance as a star craft, Cecilus executed his shining blow—the vision reaching ever deeper each time it appeared.

His heart became anew, reborn into the avenue they had spoken.

And thus, Cecilus Segmunt now stood, endowed with a dream — a story yet to unfold in all its intricate glory, a guardian spirit toward a bright new age, guided by hands extended.

The conclusion to this arc was met with acceptance beyond and through the vibrant tessellation of fates irrevocably forged.

So danced upon the stage, the final invocation that could own any future room—the brilliant choruses they drew — the promise of hallowed resolve safeguarded by courage above.

And forth they ventured once again, blooming in the dawn of their awakening.