Acheron stood holding a red oil-paper umbrella, beside an elderly figure wearing a conical hat.
The two stood on the shore, facing an endless, deep ocean.
Before the horizon, countless black silhouettes loomed.
Hazy, like swirling mist…
One hand after another reached toward the sky.
The elder recounted the origin of the silhouettes.
When mortals embark on a Path, they leave traces behind. Even after death, those traces linger for a long time.
The reflections on the sea's surface were "Bloodguilt Spirits"—the obsessions of Pathstriders, born from the shadows of IX. Viewing themselves as their former masters, they unknowingly repeat the actions of the deceased.
The elder took a deep breath. "They're born from Nihility, heading toward Nihility, living meaningless lives. But this group of empty phantoms… they were once my cherished companions, a band of Galaxy Rangers."
Acheron nodded. "Are you watching over them?"
The elder in the straw raincoat spoke slowly. "Watching? No, I'm guiding them to rest.
It was a brutal war, a crusade that shook the cosmos. The universe witnessed the fall of the Annihilation Lord Zulo, but the cost… no one but those who lived through it remembers the cost.
The resolve of The Hunt persists until the end of life, never fading. So, someone must guide these lost souls. They were heroes in life; they shouldn't become puppets of Nihility in death.
As for me… I lost too much on that battlefield and can no longer continue the journey. That makes me the most suitable person to do this."
"But you know, these Bloodguilt Spirits… they aren't really them."
The elder gave a bitter smile. "In your eyes, is this meaningless? But some things, even if meaningless, must be done."
[That line has some depth!]
[There are always things you know are futile but must do anyway.]
— —
Acheron sighed. "I can help you."
"For what reason?"
"The meaning of Nihility… that's what I seek as well."
"…True, how could an ordinary person set foot here? Thank you, stranger. I wish you find your answers on this journey."
"Before that, I have one question… Indeed, the actions of Bloodguilt Spirits, their entire existence, seem meaningless from our perspective. But what if—hypothetically—what if this is the outcome the departed desired? Should we still force a change?"
The elder didn't answer directly. "That's a good question, and a hard one. At least… I don't know the answer. But I do know that one day, I too will pass from this world. I sincerely hope that when that time comes… someone will place a bouquet at my grave."
[There definitely will be.]
[So that's how it is—Acheron was fulfilling a vow and took out a duke along the way?]
[Kid, that's not funny.]
— —
The scene cut abruptly!
The tense perspective of the Express Crew was mercilessly interrupted.
The screen went pitch black.
Slowly, a familiar voice emerged.
"'When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child.'"
"'But when I became a man, I put away childish things.'"
[Why's it quoting the Bible?]
[This is giving me chills.]
— —
The next moment, the screen lit up.
Sunday was in a confessional, a ray of sunlight illuminating his face like a divine halo.
[Holy crap, Sunday looks this beautiful?]
[!!!!]
[This scene has such a divine vibe.]
[No wonder it feels so religious!]
— —
Then, Sunday received three different visitors.
The first was a servant who had diligently served the Family for over a decade. Yesterday, he accidentally dropped a meal and was sacked as a result.
Sunday advised him to show kindness and good deeds to other Family members to mend ties with them.
The second was a dreamchaser who sold everything, including his child, to pursue Penacony, claiming the child would only suffer by staying with him.
He was currently being hunted by the Bloodhound Family; stowaways, once caught, could only be deported.
Sunday's expression softened. He decided to help the dreamchaser by canceling the Bloodhound Family's pursuit.
The third was a Pepeshi tycoon, extremely arrogant. For him, confession was just a mandatory ritual. After a few perfunctory words, he acted superior.
Sunday remained silent, offering no response.
In his mind, he pondered,
"O threefold soul, hear my questions…"
"If the power and wealth of the strong can conceal their sins, who can judge them?"
"If the weak must pay any price to survive, who can vouch for them?"
"If even the purest souls commit wrongs, who can comfort them?"
"If 'the strong aiding the weak' is truly the foundation of paradise… then who leaves them crying in this world of suffering?"
[I feel like Sunday's under so much pressure.]
[Bro, you're the tank for stress?]
[Is he red-lining?]
[Whether Sunday's red or not, I'm definitely red!]
[He's absorbing too much negative energy. Usually, this kind of setup means a character's about to turn dark.]
[Turn dark? You're overthinking it.]
[No, this is totally a prelude to turning dark! Welt mentioned Sunday seemed off earlier, and now they're setting up his behavioral logic.]
[It's understandable. If you dealt with this much nonsense daily, you'd be numb too.]
[You can tell Sunday's desperate. Countless stories teach us that even if the world's imperfect, don't rush for results. Once you rush, you're not far from becoming a villain.]
[Come on, you guys are analyzing like he's already a villain. What if he's not?]
[It's just plot discussion, no need to get so serious. Once it airs, the Honkai Star Rail historians will sort it all out perfectly.]
— —
"Brother… Brother…?"
"Brother? Are you okay?"
Robin's voice pulled Sunday back to the Golden Hour. The three of them had returned to the opulent Penacony.
Sunday, however, seemed weary.
After some pleasantries, Sunday and Robin prepared to meet the Family head, Gopher Wood.
But on the way, they heard a guest calling out.
Sunday exchanged a glance with his sister and decided to help.
The guest was heavily drunk, slurring his words.
Most crucially, his next words were telling.
He had sold all his possessions just to indulge in Penacony's dream, to revel in drunken splendor and live in a haze.
Hearing this, Robin furrowed her brow.
"Is this… really what it means to live…?"