There was once a diminutive spider, scarcely noticeable, maneuvering meticulously through the desert's vastness. Under the relentless gaze of the scorching sun, it sought diligently for a place to anchor its existence—a home to call its own.

Despite the arduous journey and unforgiving elements, the spider's resolve remained unshaken. As the desert sun relinquished its reign to the cold embrace of the night, the tiny creature persisted. It navigated the shifting sands—crawling, leaping, burrowing—its pattern repetitive yet essential.

Fate smiled upon it when it stumbled upon an oasis. Here, amidst the sheltering arms of robust cacti near the life-giving waters, instinct prevailed. It ascended a chosen cactus and began to craft its web, a creation destined to be both haven and trap.

The web gleamed under the desert sun, its intricate design casting gear-like shadows upon the sandy ground—a mechanical marvel shaped by natural hands. Within this silk-spun home, the spider found its peace, embracing the cyclic passage of days into months, each adding a layer of experience and resilience to its being.

It was during one of these tranquil days that a young engineer, with hair as blue as the midday sky and eyes sharp as a clockhand's point, wandered into the oasis. Drawn by a thirst for inspiration rather than water, he found himself captivated not by the oasis' verdure but by the geometric precision of the spider's web.

The sight struck a chord within him. Here, in the heart of nature's simplicity, lay the echoes of complex engineering. The web was a masterpiece of structural engineering, each thread a potential study in tension and balance, mirroring the core principles of mechanical design.

Pulling out a notebook and a magnifying glass, he began to sketch, his lines meticulous as he translated the organic architecture into mechanical blueprints. The web's design, reminiscent of the gears that drove the engines of creation, sparked a cascade of ideas in his mind—ideas about flexibility, durability, and design that could bridge the gap between the organic and the mechanical.

The engineer's stay extended as he observed and documented the spider's continuous craftsmanship. Each morning brought new angles of sunlight through the web, casting ever-changing shadows that suggested dynamic possibilities for his designs.

As the months melted away, the engineer, sustained by the sparse bounty of the desert and the company of the diligent spider, found a profound metaphor in his surroundings. The harsh desert and its nurturing oasis mirrored his own journey—barren yet fruitful, challenging yet enlightening.

In the cool of an evening, with the oasis bathed in twilight's purple hue, the engineer contemplated the journey ahead. The web's design had sown the seeds of a revolutionary project in his mind—a mechanical system inspired by the robust yet flexible properties of the spider's silk, capable of adapting to any environment, much like the spider adapted to the harsh desert.

Grateful for the unexpected muse, he bid farewell to the spider, its attention undiverted from its eternal task of webbing. The philosophical beauty of its tireless creation inspired him, a reminder of the endless cycle of creation and innovation.

And during his journey through the desert, he did not speak a word.

Back at his workshop, the engineer translated his sketches into practical designs. The lessons learned from the spider's intricate web—its adaptability and resilience—soon culminated in a revolutionary mechanical project. This endeavor not only advanced his career but also secured his role on the Astral Express. The desert spider's web, a marvel of natural engineering, had interwoven itself into the very fabric of his destiny, guiding him towards a future where dreams and reality merged to form something truly extraordinary.

This breakthrough led to the foundation of Penacony—a visionary world where the boundaries between dreams and tangible realities blur, reflecting the limitless potential of inspired engineering. Here, every creation honors the spider's legacy, a testament to the enduring power of observing and learning from the natural world.

And that is why—

"You have a way with words, don't you, Mikhail?"

Mikhail, now an elder, jolted slightly at the sound of the familiar voice. The Watchmaker exhaled a weary sigh, "Oh, please spare me the fright. This old heart can't endure any more of your stealthy entrances."

A small smile played on the man's face as he strode into the room, his long black coat billowing behind him. He paused at Mikhail's desk, briefly scanning the documents there before his gaze settled on a pulsating orb atop the desk, its colors swirling chaotically.

His penetrating gaze might have unnerved others, but Mikhail knew it merely as his way of observing. "For someone of your talents, you'd fit right in with us. The Astral Express owes you a great debt; you single-handedly ended the war in Penacony," Mikhail remarked, though his words seemed to drift past the man, who was now absorbed in examining the library's vast collection of books.

The man in the black coat responded with a reflective tone, "As I've always said, I don't deserve that acclaim. I'm just an outsider here, temporarily displaced, waiting to vanish back to where I came from."

Mikhail felt a pang of sadness at his friend's resignation but remained insistent, "Even so, the world should recognize your contributions. You've had a chance to redeem yourself here, and perhaps one day, we might even explore your world."

Shaking his head, the man's chilly presence caused a slight frost to form on the nearby books. Mikhail recognized his reluctance but wished to honor his friend's legacy. "By the way, how are you coping physically? You once mentioned how sensitive you are here. Your incorporeal nature must be taxing in this dream-formed reality, no?"

The man turned his frosty blue eyes towards Mikhail, "I don't have long."

Mikhail understood the gravity behind his brief reply; his time was nearing its end. "Do you regret it, my friend? Your actions have laid a foundation for a brighter future in Penacony, and for that, I am grateful."

There was a pause before the man replied, "No, I don't regret it. I believe I was summoned here because this planet needed saving, not for my own redemption."

Mikhail chuckled, "That's just like you—always so modest. Perhaps you should see it as both redemption and salvation."

The man crossed his arms, considering. "Perhaps. But my stance remains unchanged regarding your historical accounts."

"Then let's make sure your role isn't forgotten," Mikhail suggested, gesturing towards the orb. "How about I include you in our legacy? Whoever takes up my mantle will inherit yours as well."

Raising an eyebrow, the man seemed uncertain, "Inherit? I'm not sure your successor would appreciate my methods. I was harsh, sometimes ruthless—"

"—And you saved Penacony. It's your deeds that count," Mikhail interjected firmly.

"..."

Returning to his typical silence, the man finally spoke, "My oath, then. Let it serve as a reminder: 'Purge the false gods. Your sires sleep in the fields, as humanity's brave shields.'"

Mikhail applauded the profound words. "See? That's the spirit that ended the war. It's that integrity I value, not the pretense of superficial friendship."

The man, slightly taken aback by Mikhail's blunt admiration, smiled appreciatively. "If only the Astral Express crew were in my world, perhaps my time could have been different."

As Mikhail placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, he reassured, "Even if you depart from this world, I'll ensure your legacy endures. Who knows, maybe someone will come along capable of wielding your power."

The man, now more relaxed, shared a rare smile, "I doubt they'd handle the heat of my blade."

Both men shared a laugh, their gaze returning to the orb that held memories and legacies intertwined. Mikhail mused, "Perhaps one day, someone special will rise to the challenge."

"Wouldn't that be something, Kevin?"

---

Caelus blinked open his eyes, gazing up at the unfamiliar ceiling.

How long had he been asleep? He glanced around, noticing the simple bedding of a pillow and blanket where he had been lying. The grogginess clung to him, an unexpected souvenir from delving into Mikhail's Legacy.

Rubbing his head, Caelus mumbled, "Ugh... engineers, very weird people. I wonder, would Dr. Ratio have enjoyed meeting Mikhail? They both seem to cherish spreading knowledge."

The thought lingered briefly before his mind shifted to the enigmatic man he had glimpsed within the memory.

"Who are you, Kevin...?" he wondered aloud, a question left hanging for future exploration. This man, a savior of Penacony, had somehow shaped Mikhail into the revered Watchmaker known in the annals of history—a hero in the shadows.

Yet, the man's words carried a tone of remorse.

Why? Caelus pondered. Mikhail had offered comfort, but his friend had chosen solitude, erasing his own legacy.

"Even heroes adjust history to preserve public face..." Caelus whispered, staring down at his hands.

With a shake of his head, he surveyed his stark room—just him and his bed in the echoing silence. Something felt off, and he rose swiftly, unsettled by the ambiance.

"How strange. To have accessed Mikhail's memories and now, Acheron's... Why am I here?" he questioned, his mind racing with the possibilities.

Unbeknownst to him, a vulnerable moment before Mikhail had unexpectedly thrust him into the fractured dreamscape of Order. This dream was incomplete, a patchwork of reality and visions yet to be fully understood.

Shaking off these thoughts, Caelus sought clarity but was distracted by a sudden recollection. For a fleeting moment, the oni had transformed into a chaotic blend of Acheron, with glitching images flashing through his mind.

"After all this time, I still know so little about her..." he murmured as he slid open the door, stepping out into the unnaturally black sky.

The oppressive air hit him immediately, heavier than anything the room had held back, and he staggered to his knees, overwhelmed by the sudden change.

Caelus grappled with a chilling sense of déjà vu. "Not this again!"

He raised his head and was greeted by the sight of the Black Sun, ominously still, its dark presence seeming to swallow everything in its vicinity.

The haunting memories of past desolation surged through him, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

His thoughts rallied into a defiant roar, 'I mustn't falter. If not me, then who will save her?'

Suddenly, he recalled her name with urgency.

"Mei!" he cried out, his feet pounding the ground as he dashed toward where he last saw her. How could he have fallen asleep at such a critical time?

He had vowed to stay by her side, yet he feared that promise was now broken.

[Did you really?]

A spectral array of white, ghostly letters floated before his eyes, but he pushed forward, ignoring them as he ran toward the ominous glow of the Black Sun.

"No time to waste. I need to reach her fast!" he muttered impatiently.

[Why do you persist?]

"I promised her my support! She shouldn't face this nightmare alone!" Caelus replied to the unseen voice as he burst through the dense forest. Branches and thorns scratched at him, marking his skin, but he pressed on relentlessly.

Emerging from the woods, he beheld a city in ruins—a place once vibrant with life now eerily silent and desolate.

[With so much already lost, why strive to save her?]

Caelus glared at the floating text, frustration mounting. "Why are you trying to stop me?" he demanded, his resolve hardening with every step towards the devastated cityscape.

[She has chosen to confront Nihility alone, and yet, you would risk your own life in her stead?]

He offered no response, the message dismissed from his mind.

Mei needed him, Acheron needed him! He was resolved to save her.

The oppressive shadow of IX enveloped the city, unleashing a maelstrom of debris that battered him relentlessly, each piece inflicting pain as it collided with his body at merciless speeds.

Each impact brought him to his knees, coughing up blood, yet each time, fueled by a surge of desperate energy, he forced himself back to his feet.

[You are stubborn.]

With a snarl of frustration, he brushed aside the words and limped forward.

[There will be no one to mourn you if you perish here.]

Fed up with the interruptions, he retorted, "As long as there's a chance to save her, even the slightest, nothing else matters."

[The others, your friends, they will grieve your death.]

His resolve wavered momentarily, energy dissipating, "They..."

[They will never understand. They do not know her as you do. They would choose your life over hers.]

In a burst of defiant resolve, he exclaimed, "Then they don't truly know me! Let me be selfish this once!"

[That selfishness could lead to grievous consequences. Are you certain you wish to continue?]

"It is not mere caprice if my intention is sincere! I will vanquish the shadow with my light!" Caelus recalled the oath he had learned from Kevin.

[Purge the false gods. Your sires sleep in the fields, as humanity's brave shields.]

A voice, unmistakably human, echoed through the air, and he instantly recognized it.

"Kevin...?"

His Stellaron essence flared, sensing the resonance within Caelus.

The encroaching shadow spread, painting even his memories with the dark brush of Nihility.

Instead of text, the voice continued.

[You have touched his legacy, and thus, mine. Are you prepared to face the ramifications of wielding my power?]

Caelus tensed as the shadows crept closer, tears streaming down his face.

His time in Penacony had been fraught with chaos, leaving him feeling helpless in protecting his friends.

Desperate to harness some semblance of control, he questioned, "What can I do? Even with the Stellaron's power, what more is possible?"

[I was once as powerless as you. My... partner, she joined an organization, and to stay close, I followed, fighting beasts in my world called Honkai, protecting humanity in tribute to her courage and dedication.]

A spark of connection lit within Caelus, his Stellaron glowing a fierce yellow.

[I took on an experiment in desperation to defeat a formidable enemy. It granted me power, but at such a cost—I could no longer touch my partner without risking her life.]

Caelus, wiping away his tears, sought guidance, "How did you cope with that?"

[My partner urged me to keep hope, not for the world, but for her. I clung to that until the end.]

"Did you succeed?"

[I lost her... My world was destroyed.]

The parallels between their stories were stark, both lost in their quests...

[You, however, are unique. The Stellaron within you is akin to what I encountered in Penacony, yet yours is special; it's empowering you.]

Hope? Did he still have hope?

[Will you accept the role of Flame Chaser?]

"Flame Chaser, what exactly does that entail?"

[It embodies the last vestiges of Humanity's power, and you are deemed worthy to wield it.]

"I am merely a man harboring a Stellaron within. There are many less volatile than I."

[That is precisely why you are the ideal candidate to assume my role. Despite your inherent instability, your commitment to your ideals—selfish though they may be—demonstrates your desire to protect and save. That alone qualifies you.]

From the shadows emerged a white-haired woman clutching a crimson blade, her gaze heavy with tears tinged with blood.

A tear traced down Caelus's cheek as he murmured, "Mei...?"

[She is unharmed. What you see is merely a fragment of her memories, enabled by Mikhail's legacy.]

"It feels as though I've accomplished nothing..."

[Your determination is what counts, and you have amply demonstrated that.]

He looked downward, wrestling with the realization, "All this while, I've been trying to insert myself into someone else's history, yet all was destined to unfold this way."

[Yet, you have witnessed its conclusion. The minor alterations you've made in the past empower you to inherit my legacy.]

Then, he felt a hand upon his cheek and lifted his gaze to see the same white-haired woman.

She was Acheron, yet she was also Raiden Bosenmori Mei.

Her expression was apologetic, her silence heavy.

Clutching his fist tightly, the Stellaron pulsed within him, resonant as a beating heart.

[Will you accept it?]

Caelus locked eyes with Mei's, her red eyes laden with a myriad of emotions, all deeply sincere—emotions he had never felt in Penacony.

"Kevin... I don't want this dream to end."

[Dreams inevitably conclude, but you can live the reality with her. I will ensure it serves as a constant reminder.]

Caelus smiled, resolute, "Then, I accept your mantle, Kevin, my mentor."

[Mentor... No one has ever addressed me thus. Very well.]

Caelus' form ignited into flame, dispelling the surrounding darkness. The void turned into a flicker of light, and the Stellaron molded its new form.

As if an Angel of Fire descended upon the world, Caelus raised his hand and the Stellaron conjured a vision in his grasp.

The flames danced with the Stellaron, forging the fire into the form of a magnificent sword in Caelus 'hand. The weapon was a brilliant manifestation of their combined powers: a sword blazing with an intense fiery glow, its blade elongated and edged like a comet's tail, adorned with fiery motifs that spiraled down its length, culminating in a sharp, star-like point, embodying the ferocity and heat of a solar flare.

It was Shuhadaku of Uriel, Kevin's sword.

[The Stellaron ensures your hands are spared from the fire. While my own chill once tempered the heat, the Stellaron now neutralizes such drawbacks.]

Caelus gazed at the sword with awe, its magnificent presence radiating an energy potent enough to attract the Ruin Author's attention, should THEY ever witness it.

"And what of Mikhail's legacy?"

[...It manifests as a hat. You'll understand its power once you see it.]

He chuckled, "That's reassuring. I trust in the guidance you both have provided."

Caelus eyed the sword again, took a deep breath, and lifted it with both hands.

The flames surged skyward, dispelling the fictitious shadows of IX.

[Your friend before you may appear colorless now, but you are to be her contrast, her illumination.]

A symphony of light and darkness in physical form.

[Now, wield it to safeguard Penacony, as I once did. You will embody Diligence, as was my role. And like Mikhail, you must carry forward the spirit of Trailblazing. This is now your path to tread.]

"Thank you... Kevin."

He imagined the shadow as the Black Sun, and with his sword, he would conquer his fear.

With eyes ablaze with the golden force of the Stellaron, Caelus bellowed and brought the sword down.

Swoosh! Boom!

His strike shattered the memory, fragmenting the world into glass-like shards.

Mei vanished; the shadows dissipated.

Now, he stood in a theater facing Sunday, the world ablaze around them.

He noticed Welt kneeling, staring at him in astonishment.

"Caelus...?"

The elder recognized the sword in Caelus's grasp, a haunting replica of the one that had devastated his world.

"Kevin..." Welt murmured, startled by the weapon's reappearance.

Caelus approached and knelt beside him, "Mr. Welt..."

Welt managed a chuckle, his last resort to use his power unnecessary now that the hero had arrived.

"Caelus, our adversary is part of 'Order.'" Welt gestured towards the massive structure, its puppets dangling from strings.

Caelus surveyed the chaos and nodded with newfound resolve.

"Caelus, beware of Sunday; he orchestrated this nightmarish reality..." Welt's voice carried a note of hope, sensing that Kevin's influence had profoundly affected Caelus.

Welt's strength waned, "I entrust this to you, Caelus..." and he collapsed.

Caelus gently reassured the fallen elder, "Rest well, Welt. I will end this."

His gaze fixed on the Great Septimus, sensing the vulnerability within.

He pointed the flaming sword at him and declared.

"Think you can escape unscathed? Playing with my life like some twisted game, you maniac!"

Sunday's eyes widened from within the Emanator of Harmony, incredulous, "How...?"

The sword's blaze intensified, incinerating the surrounding puppets.

"I don't care for your reasons, but you've harmed my friends!"

Recalling Kevin's ethos, Caelus affirmed his own creed.

"Trailblazing means forging ahead beyond the paths laid by those before us, venturing into the unknown... Penacony, as envisioned by Mikhail, will never succumb to 'Order.' I will end this just as he did in the past."

Caelus positioned himself, the fiery aura of his sword igniting the air.

"I will set the seas ablaze!"

End of Chapter

---

A/N: Two chapters left to this book. I am excited!