Morning came, and the Astral Express resumed their journey.
Leaves rustled endlessly around them, an uncountable sea of green filling their vision. Yet no matter how far they walked, nothing changed. No exit. No clearing. No path leading outside.
They had been running in circles.
Realization settled heavily in their chests.
A Möbius loop—a path with no end, forever returning to its beginning.
Breaking such a curse was anything but simple. Unless one possessed profound authority over space itself, escape was impossible.
Fortunately, Welt Yang did.
His cane gripped firmly in hand, Welt stopped holding back.
He sliced the air.
Space split open, folding apart like torn fabric, revealing a distorted path beyond.
"Let's go," he said firmly. "We don't have time to idle around here—I can feel the corrosion spreading to this plac—"
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
Something was coming.
"Dodge!" Welt shouted.
But even as the word left his mouth—
It was already too close.
A beam of blinding light tore past them, detonating behind their position. The explosion roared through the forest as Welt instantly erected an Imaginary barrier, shielding them from the impact.
"Kyah!!" March screamed, raising her arms as the shockwave forced their feet deep into the ground.
Reality blurred.
Space warped violently, as if the world itself was correcting a terrible mistake.
Then—
The illusion shattered.
The forest was gone.
What they stood upon was not earth, but flesh.
Not roots—tentacles.
No—abomination.
A grotesque mass sprawled endlessly beneath them, writhing, pulsing. Countless eyes rolled and twitched across its surface, watching from every angle.
Inhuman.
Disgusting.
Alive.
Hovering above it all was a glowing sphere—pulsing with energy, flickering in and out of existence.
A Stellaron.
"What… what the hell is this…?" March whispered, horror freezing her in place.
"In the name of the Aeons…" Himeko breathed, her voice trembling.
Fear seized them.
Not panic—but something deeper. Primal. The kind that locked the body in place and stole the breath from one's lungs.
"Mr. Yang…" Dan Heng whispered beside him. "This… doesn't look good."
Even Dan Heng's calm was cracking.
And for the first time—Even Welt Yang felt fear.
The mass of flesh—the seventy-two demon pillars—began to writhe.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The countless eyes shifted in unison as the glowing sphere above them flickered, its light stuttering like a dying heartbeat. Tendrils of warped flesh rose upward, coiling around the Stellaron.
And then— It was swallowed.
Their eyes widened in shock.
A blinding surge of light erupted outward, tearing through space itself. The sky above them cracked—not metaphorically, not symbolically—
It crumbled.
Fragments of the heavens shattered and fell like broken glass, dissolving before they could reach the ground.
"Did that thing just… swallow it?!" March shouted, her voice trembling.
Welt didn't answer.
For the first time since they arrived, his expression darkened completely.
"…It didn't absorb the Stellaron," he said slowly.
"It accepted it."
The ground lurched.
Reality groaned, bending under a pressure it was never meant to bear
.
The mass of flesh began to change.
The writhing slowed.
The eyes stopped twitching.
One by one, they turned upward.
Then—They spoke.
Not with voices.
But with authority.
A pressure slammed into the Astral Express, forcing them to their knees. The air thickened, crushing, heavy with Imaginary energy twisted far beyond Nanook's usual destruction.
Himeko grit her teeth. "This isn't just a Stellaron anymore…"
"No," Welt agreed.
"It's become a core."
Dan Heng tightened his grip on Cloud-Piercer. "A core of what?"
Welt looked up at the abomination, at the sky still collapsing in fragments above it.
"…A replacement."
The flesh parted.
At its center, something began to form—not a body, not a god, but a concept given shape. The seventy-two were no longer separate. Their identities overlapped, merged, erased.
A single will remained.
"The Age of God ends…"
The words echoed directly inside their minds.
"…yet divinity refuses to vanish."
March shook her head violently. "Nope. Nope. I don't like where this is going."
Welt slowly stood, forcing himself upright against the crushing pressure.
"Solomon," he said quietly. "This was your answer, wasn't it?"
The pressure shifted.
Almost… amused.
Himeko's eyes widened in realization. "He didn't just seal them."
"He gave them a grave," Welt replied.
"And the Stellaron just turned it into a womb."
The sky fractured again.
This time, something looked back through the cracks.
"…We need to leave," Dan Heng said firmly.
Welt nodded.
"Yes," he agreed.
"Now."
But deep within the merged demon pillars—
Something had finally awakened.
And it had noticed them.
"So that was your plan…"
A gentle voice sounded behind them.
They turned.
Solomon stood there.
"Solomon… what does this mean…?" Welt's grip tightened around his cane, his gaze locked onto the king.
"You said you didn't know where the Stellaron was—yet—"
"Sorry," Solomon said softly.
The single word made their expressions harden.
"Apologies won't solve this," Himeko said firmly.
"Look at what you've done. You allowed those monsters to swallow it."
Even with hostility pointed squarely at him, Solomon did not resist. He stepped forward, calm, composed—almost weary.
"Indeed," he said gently. "An apology will not fix this. I foresaw this outcome long ago."
He turned his gaze toward the writhing mass of flesh.
"Welt… the moment you set eyes upon this world, it was already dead."
Welt froze.
"…What?" he whispered.
"There are no other continents," Solomon continued.
"No other civilizations. No hidden survivors."
He looked back at them, amber eyes steady.
"What remains of this world is only the kingdom of Israel."
Silence fell.
"I allowed those beings—the seventy-two demon gods—to act as they wished," Solomon said.
"They promised rebirth. With the Stellaron's power, they claimed civilization would arise once more."
March's voice trembled. "You… believed them?"
Solomon smiled faintly.
"No," he replied.
"I used them."
The mass convulsed violently, reacting to his words.
"The world was already beyond saving," Solomon said quietly.
"The land was poisoned. The seas were gone. Humanity was reduced to echoes."
He closed his eyes.
"So I made a choice."
Himeko's breath caught. "You turned the end of your world into… a containment."
"Yes." Solomon opened his eyes.
"I gathered all remaining divinity, all lingering authority, all remnants of the Age of God—and buried them here."
His gaze returned to the abomination.
"The demon pillars. The Stellaron. The last poison of the cosmos."
Welt's voice was low. "You turned your world into a tomb."
Solomon nodded.
"A sealed grave," he corrected.
"One meant to rot in silence… forever."
The sky cracked again. This time, the fissures did not heal.
"But the Stellaron," Dan Heng said, realization dawning. "It didn't rot."
"No," Solomon agreed.
"It evolved."
The merged entity stirred, its presence expanding.
March shook her head. "Then everything we did—coming here—"
"Was inevitable," Solomon finished.
"The seal could not last once outsiders arrived."
He bowed his head slightly.
"That is why I invited you."
Welt's eyes widened. "You wanted us to—"
"Bear witness," Solomon said softly.
"And decide."
The pressure around them shifted—not hostile, not welcoming.
Expectant.
"The Age of God must end," Solomon whispered.
"But the Age of Man cannot be born from lies."
"Sigh… so it has come to this, after all."
Solomon muttered under his breath. The future he had feared had already arrived. Slowly, he turned back, his gaze lingering on the Astral Express and those who stood upon it.
"My apologies," he said quietly. "This world has long been dead. I cannot allow the seventy-two demon gods to be set loose."
Before Welt or the others could react, their vision was swallowed by darkness.
For a brief moment, there was nothing—
Then light returned.
They were back aboard the Astral Express.
"…" No one spoke. The silence hung heavy, each of them still struggling to process what had just occurred.
Then—
"W-What is that?!" March screamed.
She pointed toward the observation window.
Outside, a colossal glowing circle unfolded in the void—so vast it nearly eclipsed half the planet. Pink energy pulsed rhythmically within it, and slowly, inexorably, the light of the sun itself began to bend, drawn toward the magical construct.
Back on the doomed world, Solomon stood alone.
The land was nothing but writhing flesh and countless eyes. Voices echoed endlessly within his mind, pleading, raging, demanding—but he did not respond.
After all, they were his responsibility.
He had commanded the seventy-two demon gods.
He had allowed them to come into contact with the Stellaron—an alien existence beyond even his understanding.
With a faint, sorrowful smile, Solomon raised his hand.
A massive magic circle unfolded above the world. Drawing upon the sun itself as fuel, its energy compressed, converging into a single, blinding point.
"Deploying the Third Noble Phantasm."
His voice was calm. Resolute.
"The time of birth hath come—
I am the remedy of eternity."
"Ars Almadel Salomonis."
The chant ended.
A beam descended.
Not merely light—
but judgment.
Its heat surpassed the sun itself, a single band of radiance that erased everything it touched. There was no explosion, no shockwave.
The world did not shatter.
It simply ceased to exist.
Aboard the Astral Express, the light vanished.
Where a planet once was, there was nothing.
March's hands trembled as she lowered them from the glass. "…It's gone."
Himeko closed her eyes.
Dan Heng said nothing.
And Welt— Welt stared into the empty void, his reflection staring back at him from the window.
A world erased.
A sin answered with finality.
"…So this," he murmured softly, "is Solomon's conclusion."
The silence did not break immediately.
The Astral Express drifted onward, its engines humming softly, almost respectfully, as if even the train understood what had just been witnessed. Outside the window, the void remained unchanged—cold, endless, indifferent.
March was the first to move.
"…He didn't even hesitate," she whispered. "He just… erased it. Like it was the only answer left."
No one corrected her.
Himeko exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around her mug. "Because for him, it was the only answer. That wasn't destruction—it was containment." Her voice was steady, but there was weight beneath it. "If those seventy-two demon gods escaped with the Stellaron… the damage wouldn't have stopped at one world."
March leaned against the wall, eyes lowered. "Still… he lied."
A pause.
"No. Not entirely. The world was already dead."
All eyes turned to Welt.
He hadn't moved since the erasure—his gaze fixed on the empty space where a planet once existed. The reflection in his glasses trembled faintly as the Express passed through lingering distortions of collapsed reality.
"…Solomon made a choice," Welt said at last. His voice was quiet, but firm. "One only someone standing at the very end of history could make."
March swallowed. "Do you think… he knew this would happen from the start?"
"Yes," Welt replied without hesitation. "The moment we arrived."
To ensure the truth did not disappear with the planet.
A soft chime echoed through the carriage.
...…
In the blackened flames and burning city, a man was running for his life.
His once-normal white skin was smeared with dirt, his face streaked with ash, and his orange hair was a tangled mess.
"Hah…"
"Hah…!"
Behind him staggered a walking corpse—its face twisted beyond recognition, flesh sloughing off its body, pale purple skin stretched tight over exposed bone.
"W-what is going on?!" the man shouted, breath ragged from relentless running.
This man was none other than Solomon.
He had awakened not long ago, and the first thing he saw was flesh reaching for him.
He could feel it clearly—the rings were gone.
The power was gone.
The certainty was gone.
No magecraft.
No authority.
No miracles.
He was completely powerless.
"Dammit!" he spat.
For the first time in his existence, Solomon felt emotion.
Fear.
Frustration.
Panic.
He might have been grateful for experiencing them—but not like this.
I need shelter, he thought desperately.
Anything. Anywhere. Just let me hide from those things.
His emerald green eyes darted across the ruined cityscape until—there.
A building. Big. And possibly enough for him to hide for the whole day.
Perfect. And if I'm lucky, those things will lose interest.
With a sudden turn, Solomon changed direction, weaving through broken streets, zigzagging past flaming wreckage and shattered storefronts.
"Hah…!"
"Hah…!"
At last, he reached the spot.
He slammed himself into the doorway, chest heaving, legs trembling from exhaustion. His back pressed tightly against the door as if sheer will could keep it shut.
This body—this human body—was not built for this.
"Seriously… where am I?" he whispered.
"And how did I get here?"
Questions flooded his mind, yet none had answers.
"Magecraft… no."
"Clairvoyance… no."
"And the rings… gone."
He let out a dry laugh. "What a terrible day."
He paused.
"…No. That doesn't matter."
His expression hardened slightly.
"First, I need to check this body's memories."
Closing his eyes, Solomon reached inward—not with magic, but with sheer concentration.
Information surfaced slowly.
"Romani Archaman."
"Four years of training at a prestigious hospital."
"Age: twenty-five."
He frowned.
"Cause of the city's downfall…"
Nothing.
"…Nothing?" Solomon muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. "This body doesn't even know why the city is filled with walking corpses."
He shook his head and reached into his pocket.
A wallet.
Romani Archaman's wallet.
Inside was an ID card. Solomon stared at the unfamiliar face—his face now—longer than he expected before sliding it back into place.
"Staying here won't solve anything," he said quietly.
"I need to know what destroyed this world."
He approached the window and carefully looked down.
Below, the city stretched endlessly—streets choked with wreckage, fires still burning, and silhouettes shambling aimlessly through the smoke.
His gaze shifted to the convenience store across the street from the building he was hiding in.
With the basic knowledge inherited from Romani Archaman, a plan quickly formed in his mind.
Supplies first.
Food.
Water.
Anything usable.
Solomon approached the door and slowly pushed it open, just enough to peer outside.
The street was eerily quiet.
He scanned left.
Then right.
Only after confirming the immediate area was clear did he step out.
His movements were light—measured—before he suddenly bolted forward, crossing the street in a single breathless sprint.
The world blurred.
No groans.
No footsteps.
He slipped inside the convenience store and shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it as he exhaled sharply.
"Phew… safe."
The interior was dim, shelves partially overturned, but largely untouched.
Lucky.
He grabbed a bag from behind the counter and began packing with practiced efficiency.
Bottled water.
Canned food.
Instant meals.
Romani's memories guided his hands, even as Solomon silently observed the unfamiliar sensation.
So this is how humans survive, he thought.
Not through omnipotence. But through preparation.
As he moved deeper into the store, the quiet felt… wrong.
Too still.
Somewhere outside, glass shattered.
Solomon froze.
"…I suppose I won't be staying long," he muttered, tightening his grip on the bag.
And with that, he moved—carefully, cautiously—ready to face whatever awaited him next.
When he looked up, he found himself staring at a girl standing across from him.
White hair. Clear blue eyes. A neatly worn school uniform.
She stood there silently, just as startled as he was.
Romani froze.
For a brief moment, the two simply stared at each other, neither moving nor speaking, as if the world itself had paused.
Then, slowly, the girl tilted her head.
"…?"
The gesture was small, almost innocent—but in a city overrun by the dead, it felt strangely unsettling.
Romani swallowed.
A living person.
With this I should be able to focus on Solomon's journey or Romani Ackerman. The last two chapter was for the introduction of Solomon world- as it become a prolonged period- a lostbelt.