Chapter 234: Well, That's Reputation
"Looks like things are getting a little busy out there." Stelle leaned against the window of the Astral Express, her golden eyes tracking the cosmic anomaly outside. She turned her head toward March 7th, who was currently pressing her face against the glass, craning her neck to get a better view of the sky.
"Whoa..." March murmured, her breath fogging the pane. "Look at that thing... isn't it a bit much? I feel like even when Sunday tried to become Ena, the projection wasn't nearly this massive."
"Rekka..." Stelle sighed, crossing her arms. "He really went overboard this time."
March had already grown entirely numb to these universe-breaking spectacles. She didn't even need to investigate to deduce the truth. Whenever something utterly ridiculous shattered the laws of physics and Rekka was conveniently missing from the passenger cabin, it was a guaranteed certainty that he was the one pulling the strings.
Surprised? Not in the slightest. The guy had literally transformed into Nanook the Destruction before. What was so strange about him playing dress-up with the Aeon of Order?
Well, that was just the reputation he had built.
Out in the wider universe, however, the general populace lacked the Express crew's jaded immunity. With such a colossal manifestation of Order looming over the star system, most factions were treading with extreme caution.
Yet, there was never a shortage of eccentric individuals who felt an inexplicable surge of confidence whenever Order made an appearance.
Take, for example, the diehard players of the Galactic Power Scaling Party.
This popular card game doubled as the ultimate dispute resolution method across various forums. Whenever two rival factions couldn't agree on which cosmic entity would win in a fight, they bypassed logic entirely and dove straight into a tense, high-stakes match of Galactic Power Scaling Party. Whoever drew the better hand and won the match was officially declared right.
Naturally, this system had flaws. Losers often refused to accept the outcome, and winners rarely missed a chance to gloat, a volatile combination that frequently escalated from playing cards to throwing actual punches in free-style brawls.
Across the galactic network, the comment sections were an absolute warzone.
"I'm telling you right now, the Aeon of Order could just elbow drop any other Aeon out of existence! Does anyone get me?" one user posted.
"Bro, the Aeon of Order literally just got elbowed into the dirt by the IPC's giant hammer a few weeks ago," another fired back immediately. "And here you are claiming they can take on other Aeons? Delusional."
"Do you even understand the sheer value of an entity that constantly fights its way out of the losers' bracket for a revival match?" a third chimed in. "How many other Aeons have more seniority than Order? Put some respect on the name!"
The threads refreshed at blinding speeds.
"What's the rush? What if this is just another deathbed struggle before fading away again?"
"Are you seriously suggesting an Aeon can have two deathbed struggles? A massive, galaxy-spanning deity is currently tossing and turning above Asdana, and you call that a deathbed struggle? Get your eyes checked!"
"Serious discussion here," a verified user posted. "This manifestation of Order is clearly more than twice as large as the last one. I happened to be near Asdana when Ena descended previously. The divine body back then covered roughly the entire star system, but the gravitational influence this time is expanding way beyond that."
"You casuals just don't get it. Order is accumulating power. Look at the sheer mass! It's several times larger than the Penacony incident."
"Got it. The bigger the Aeon, the harder it punches. Solid logic."
While the internet argued over hypothetical elbow drops, the Interstellar Peace Corporation was experiencing a collective meltdown. Reports, emergency inquiries, and public relations disasters were piling up on executive desks higher than mountains.
The most terrifying question echoing through the corporate halls was simple.
If Ena the Order could be resurrected, did that mean Qlipoth could be resurrected too?
Wait. Who in the universe even knew if the Amber Lord could be resurrected? More, one absolutely should not be disrespectful enough to imply the Amber Lord needed resurrecting in the first place!
Yet, the panic was infectious. Why were so many investors suddenly obsessed with the mechanics of Aeon resurrection? It made a twisted sort of sense. An Aeon playing a revival match was a once-in-an-era spectacle. Seeing multiple, back-to-back resurrections within the same fiscal quarter was something that shattered every known actuarial table.
"Regarding the trending question of whether the Amber Lord can be resurrected, this crisis must be resolved within twelve system hours!" a senior executive bellowed, slamming his fist onto the mahogany table. "Standardize the official statement immediately!"
"Sir, this... this isn't just a matter of issuing an official statement," a junior manager stammered. "Scholars from the Intelligentsia Guild are actively publishing papers on it as we speak. The public opinion algorithms are completely overwhelmed. It is already out of our control."
Inside the high-level conference room, the atmosphere was so suffocatingly heavy that water could practically be wrung from the air. The director in charge of marketing and public relations sat slumped in his chair, clutching his thinning hair with both hands. Deep, bruised-looking dark circles dragged down his eyes. On the massive screen occupying the far wall, holographic projections scrolled endlessly through trending topics across the galactic network, displaying a chaotic stream of panic and memes.
'Does the Amber Lord have a hidden second phase too?''If Order can play consecutive revival matches, can other Paths just respawn at will?''Lord Almighty, please stop playing revival matches, my stock portfolio can't take it!'
Faced with an emergency on a literal Aeon scale, the corporate workers could only desperately try to plug the holes in a sinking ship.
Panicking, however, achieved nothing.
Whether the universe acknowledged it or not, the colossal phantom of Ena remained draped over the star system, projecting an aura of omnipresent authority.
Fortunately for the terrified masses, this terrifying display of power was ultimately still below that of a true Aeon. It hovered just one agonizing step away from fully realizing the true Aeon of Order.
Ascension was a grueling process of discarding all mortal emotions, only to pick them back up again from a higher dimension. The actual conditions for Ascension weren't impossibly strict, but the two main drivers piloting this massive divine body shared a distinct lack of fanatical interest in actually becoming gods. Sunday had previously desired to be a monarch of men, intending to use the power of Order merely as a springboard to enforce his paradise. Now, after his defeat and subsequent enlightenment, Sunday possessed zero interest in godhood.
As a result, the maximum range of their manifestation only covered a few neighboring star systems. If they attempted to extend it any further, the density and effectiveness of the Path of Order's power would drastically diminish.
It simply wasn't powerful enough.
High above the cosmic plane, Rekka suddenly froze. His chaotic energy stalled for a fraction of a second.
"What did you hear?" Sunday asked, turning his gaze toward his current partner in crime.
"...Equilibrium wants us to help Him with some work," Rekka muttered, rubbing his chin.
"Equilibrium..." Sunday repeated, his expression turning thoughtful.
Hoo, the Aeon of Equilibrium, stood as one of the oldest known Aeons in existence. He had long ago dissolved His own will into the fundamental logic of the universe's movement, eternally maintaining the delicate balance and stability of all things.
Only ancient horrors like Voracity and The Propagation could rival the sheer antiquity of Equilibrium.
Order, naturally, belonged in that ancient category as well. But with Ena currently doing cosmic sit-ups and popping in and out of existence, the pressure placed upon Equilibrium to maintain the universe's balance had become particularly immense. The Hunt was indeed a representative of moderation and restraint, but Lan simply wasn't as fierce or absolute as Order when it came to enforcing rules.
"He probably feels He can dump some of the administrative backlog back onto us," Rekka grumbled, crossing his arms.
"Perhaps," Sunday agreed smoothly. "But Hoo is not the kind of existence that takes without giving. He always provides corresponding rewards to maintain balance. As long as we assist with the workload, we will receive a precious item upon completion."
Rekka grinned, the chaotic spark returning to his eyes. "Then let's do it."
"Good morning, everyone."
The sliding doors of the Express parlor car hissed open. Rekka and Sunday dragged themselves inside, their figures looking thoroughly exhausted and aching from head to toe.
Stelle looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow at their disheveled states. "What did you two go off and do?"
"This morning, I specifically went to find Master Tony at the Origami University entrance to get a trendy new hairstyle..." Rekka began, trying to sound suave despite wincing as he stretched his back.
Stelle deadpanned, staring at his head. "Trendy hairstyle my foot. You just got a buzz cut."
Rekka ignored her critique. "And yesterday, we went to do some temp work for Hoo..."
"Speaking of which," March chimed in, tossing a cushion onto the sofa. "It's been a really long time since we played Anomalous Arbitration."
Stelle blinked, her golden eyes widening slightly in realization.
The last time Rekka had randomly transformed into Equilibrium, he had casually left an Anomalous Arbitration board sitting on the train's coffee table. Stelle hadn't dared to go back inside it since her very first attempt.
The difficulty level of Anomalous Arbitration was truly, absurdly high. It essentially forced you to fight a Pro Max, fully improved version of yourself. It felt significantly harder than grinding through the deepest levels of the Forgotten Hall's Memory of Chaos.
"So, if you two worked that hard for an Aeon, what good stuff did Hoo actually give you?" Stelle asked, leaning forward with sudden interest. "It couldn't just be a cosmic certificate of merit, right?"
Rekka forced himself to stand upright, groaning softly as his joints popped. He reached into the deep inner pocket of his coat and fished out a small gadget.
It was a strange polyhedron, emitting a soft, pulsing golden light. It was only about the size of a walnut, but its surface constantly shifted, folding in on itself through complex geometric patterns that made Stelle's head spin just looking at it.
"Here. It's this," Rekka said, tossing it lightly in his palm.
March leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "Ooh, it looks pretty... what is it?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Rekka admitted cheerfully. "He just said it's the precious item that manifests after the job is done. Neither Sunday nor I recognize what this thing actually does."
Rekka stared at the glowing, reality-bending artifact for a long moment, deep in thought.
"Actually," Rekka finally said, his face lighting up with a brilliant idea. "I think this thing can serve as a pretty good die for when we play Monopoly. Last time, March accidentally crushed our plastic one."
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