Chapter 371: Unlucky Creature
"Sigurd, look over here!"
Click!
Just as Sigurd turned off the heat and was about to plate the food, he heard Vira's voice calling from outside the kitchen—followed by the sound of a camera shutter.
He looked up just in time to see her peeking through the doorway, clutching a small camera and grinning like a mischievous cat that had just stolen a fish. Before he could react, Vira had already dashed off, giggling all the way down the hall, far too quick for him to catch.
"Childish," Sigurd muttered with a sigh—but the faint curve of his lips betrayed him. He went back to his work.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Vira was greeted by Sin Mal, who stood before her with both hands outstretched, her strange heterochromatic eyes silently fixed on her.
Vira raised the tiny camera, smiling playfully.
"You want it?"
"Mm!"
"Then give Vira-oneechan a hug, and I'll give you a copy of the photo."
"…"
Sin Mal hesitated. She didn't like being touched—especially by strangers. But this was a photo of Sigurd. A rare, one-of-a-kind treasure of him wearing a pink apron! How could she not want it?
The inner struggle was written all over her delicate little face, framed by a black gothic-lolita dress that only made her look even more heartbreakingly cute. Anyone seeing her like that would've wanted to scoop her up and smother her with affection.
After a long, conflicted silence, Sin Mal mumbled, "I can pay you."
"I don't need money," Vira replied cheerfully. "Besides, everything's under wartime rationing right now. Money won't get you anything."
"Then… do you have any enemies? Like that tuna or something? Sin Mal can get rid of them for you. Zero mistakes guaranteed."
"Nope," Vira said with a sunny smile. "This onee-chan is a peace-loving person. No need for assassin services."
She then waved the camera teasingly in front of Sin Mal's eyes, watching with delight as those beautiful mismatched pupils followed it in perfect synchronization. Vira's grin grew so wide that her eyes practically disappeared.
Still, Sin Mal didn't move. Her aversion to physical contact ran deep—like a proud lone wolf, or a hedgehog always ready to bristle.
So Vira leaned in and whispered, pointing toward the kitchen,
"Better decide fast. Sigurd will be out any second. Once he's here, no more deals."
"Only a hug," Sin Mal warned, her voice sharp. "No funny business. Or I'll kill you."
"Deal!"
Vira immediately opened her arms and pulled the little girl—who had been keeping her distance ever since they met—into a warm hug. Then, cheek to cheek, she started rubbing her face against Sin Mal's soft hair, her fingers tousling it affectionately like she was petting a kitten.
Sin Mal: "(♯▼皿▼)!!"
So much for "just a hug"! Was she being teased? Or challenged? Definitely challenged!
Just as Sin Mal was about to explode in fury, Vira slipped a photo into her hand.
It was Sigurd—wearing the pink apron, stirring a pot, and glancing back over his shoulder with a calm, domestic air. The gentle warmth in the picture carried just the faintest trace of endearing cluelessness.
Sin Mal's eyes sparkled. "❤(＾▽＾)❤!"
Even better than she imagined! A true treasure worthy of eternal preservation!
Clutching the photo, she giggled in bliss. As for Vira's shameless petting—eh, whatever. It's not like she'd shed fur or anything. The picture was clearly the more important thing here!
Seeing Sin Mal finally calm down, Vira smiled softly.
"So, does this mean we're friends now?"
"Of course not! Sin Mal doesn't need friends!"
"Then can we become friends? As a gift between friends, I can give you the apron Sigurd wore in this photo."
"Deal!!!"
Sin Mal's eyes lit up like stars.
Vira took Sin Mal's tiny hand and gave it a firm shake, sealing their newfound "friendship pact."
Just then, a shadow fell over the two of them.
"Move. You're blocking the way."
Sigurd's voice was flat as ever, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the scene before him.
In an instant, Sin Mal hid the photo behind her back, Vira did the same with the camera, and both girls stepped aside, standing stiffly upright to clear the path.
Sigurd gave them a sidelong glance. Of course he knew they were up to something, but he didn't bother to call them out. He simply walked past, carrying the steaming dishes, and said,
"Wash your hands. Dinner's ready."
"Yes, sir!!" ×2
…
After dinner, Sigurd bid farewell to Vira and Sin Mal.
As he flew home through the night sky, the wind rushing past, his gaze fell upon the golden, teardrop-shaped gemstone resting in his palm. His eyes grew distant and somber.
"This was something the Young Miss left for me," Vira said softly. "She said it would protect me in times of danger and allow me to unleash power far beyond that of an ordinary Valkyrie… I want you to study it, Sigurd-oniichan. I think it's the crystallization of the Young Miss's power. I don't know what kind of secret she's hiding or what burden she's carrying, but it must be something dangerous. Please—help her. Don't let her get hurt. I'm begging you."
As she took her leave, Vira pressed the gem into Sigurd's hand.
Sigurd, in turn, left behind a set of black armor. He had intended to give it to Vira for protection anyway, and now, with the gem gone, it would fill the gap in her defenses perfectly.
"The End… huh?"
Sigurd murmured under his breath as he held the gem.
Power so strong it could unconsciously influence the emotions of those nearby; power that, if left unchecked, could even distort the space around it. A girl who held countless secrets, who knew far too much—and who, a year ago, had intercepted Seele and Rozaliya, and had halted his lunar expedition to study the Honkai consciousness.
Perhaps… it was the power of the End that granted her that knowledge. Perhaps it had even made her strong enough to glimpse the future.
Vira hadn't given much information, but after thinking it through, Sigurd could only find one plausible explanation for the original Kiana many mysteries—the so-called Herrscher of the End.
But until he witnessed it with his own eyes, everything remained speculation.
He steadied his mind, wrapped the gem in a sphere of Soulium filaments, and fastened it to his belt beside two other Herrscher cores.
That girl's situation was important—but not that important. Humanity would have to face the End eventually. Victory or defeat wouldn't be decided by whether the End resided within her, but by the depth of human civilization itself—its strength, its resolve, and the power it could ultimately manifest.
In other words, the outcome rested in his hands, not hers.
Of course, research was still necessary. Anything concerning the End was worth investigating.
"Sigurd?"
"It's nothing. We're almost there."
He gently squeezed Sin Mal's hand, then surged upward through the night sky, cloaked in flame-like Honkai energy, diving straight into the towering base ahead.
. . .
When Sigurd and Sin Mal entered the lounge, they were greeted by the sight of everyone gathered around the TV, watching a Homu anime. The table was piled with fruit, cakes, and all sorts of snacks—the atmosphere warm and cheerful.
"SIIIIIG!!!"
Kiana, who had been resting her head on Mei's soft lap, leapt up the moment she saw him. Clambering over the couch, stepping across several girls' legs, she launched herself toward him like a missile.
Sigurd had intended to catch her.
But upon closer inspection—one hand clutching a watermelon slice, the other a piece of cake, with whipped cream smudged across her cheeks and nose from Mei's recent attempts to feed her—he stopped in his tracks and sidestepped.
"Wahhh!"
Kiana tumbled forward, about to hit the floor face-first—
Until Sigurd caught her by the collar and, with his free hand, slapped a damp towel over her face.
Rub rub rub!
After a few brisk wipes, her face was clean. Dangling from his grasp, she looked at him with a sheepish grin, then held out the watermelon and cake toward him.
"Wanna bite?" she asked, blinking up adorably.
Sigurd stared at her, then thought back to Vira's mature, sensible demeanor. A sigh of pure exhaustion escaped him.
"You eat it. I'll pass."
"'Kay!"
Kiana replied cheerfully and, true to form, stuffed both the watermelon and the cake into her own mouth.
Sigurd led her back to the couch, found an open spot, sat down, and settled her on his lap. He used the damp towel to wipe her mouth and hands clean.
Only after he was done did he glance around the room—
And, as expected, everyone looked a bit surprised… before returning to their snacks as if this were perfectly normal.
<+>
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