Chapter 52

The faint violet glow of the twin moons reflects off the crystalline snow, casting soft hues across the tents, armor racks, and gently humming teleport pillars. The Universal Guard has gathered for one last night before departure.

Shizuku
(sighing in satisfaction)
There’s something about eating in the cold after a victory. Makes the food taste about ten times better.

Berwick
(reading with a mug of star-sparkling water)
Statistically speaking, heightened dopamine post-conflict increases sensory reward. So yes, you're chemically correct.

Lily
(mouth full of a giganta-s'more)
That... was the nerdiest way to say “food tastes good after a fight.”

Celeste
(sipping spirit wine, arms behind her head)
Food tastes better when you’ve punched someone through a glacier. That’s my scientific input.

Astera
(laughing)
You also kicked over half the support guard tents by accident.

Celeste
(mock gasp)
Collateral damage. I was making room for dancing.

She snaps her fingers, and a subtle rhythm of harmonic pulses starts echoing through the ground. A few Support Guard members begin grooving nearby, unintentionally in sync.

Eris
(leaning back)
Feels like the first real night of peace we’ve had in a while.

Asche
(nodding)
Until the next diplomatic catastrophe or ancient cosmic anomaly shows up and asks for a duel.

Kalt XVIII
(sitting between Lily and Astera, quietly watching)
You all… really act like a family.

Lily
(grinning, elbowing him)
We are a family. You don’t fight gods together and not become one.

Kalt XVIII
(softly)
I hope Raureif becomes something like this. Something warm… even in the cold.

Alto
(placing a hand on Kalt’s shoulder)
It will. And if you ever need help—one flare from the tower, and we’re back in twelve seconds.

Shizuku
(munching his skewer)
Eight, if I’m the one flying.

Astera
(grinning)
Three, if you let Celeste scream us there.

Celeste
(smirking)
Should I make the world’s most beautiful sonic boom?

Everyone
NO!

Laughter echoes around the fire. The stars overhead shimmer brighter than usual. A silence falls—not awkward, but soft. Peaceful. Earned.

Kalt XVIII
(looking at them all)
Thank you… all of you.

And somewhere in the sky, the Ark hums gently in orbit—waiting to carry them home.