Chapter 155 - Bloom in Daybreak

Myrrh’s body shimmered as the last fragments of energy dissolved, returning her to her human form. She fell to her knees, clasping her trembling hands in prayer, her gaze locked upon Fei’s body slowly ascending, defying gravity with an otherworldly grace. Her form levitated inches above the cracked and ashen ground, framed by the dying light of the battlefield.

“Fei…” Myrrh whispered, her voice quivering in awe and disbelief.

Fei’s lips curled into a faint smile, yet tears streamed freely from her golden eyes—tears that spoke of sorrow, of joy, and of an unshakable guilt. With a serene resolve, she closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the primordial pulse of the Cosmic Tree. Her voice trembled as she spoke, words laced with both prophecy and lament.

“I dreamed of a bleached earth… where everything ceased to exist.”

The first tear touched the barren soil—and life answered. From the lifeless gray wasteland, a single fragile shoot broke through the cracked surface. Then another. And another. In an instant, the green surge accelerated, roots burrowing deep, splitting stone as they claimed the dead planet. Branches erupted skyward, racing toward Fei like outstretched arms yearning for their creator.

“My heart ached for the nightmare… and wished for the continuing dream,” she chanted, her voice growing steadier, echoing like a sacred hymn.

Roots coiled around her body, gently at first, then with a fervent embrace. They resembled Neil’s crimson bindings—but these glowed with a luminous emerald hue, pulsing with the breath of life. The roots crawled across her skin, up her neck, and over her face, until the morpher in her grasp ignited with a brilliance that split the gloom.

In a burst of raw, ethereal energy, Fei’s form fractured and reassembled into a towering Frame Unit. Yet this was no vibrant war machine. It was hollow, draped in a deathly gray, its lifeless shell devoid of light. No circuits hummed, no eyes burned. Only silence. The roots, relentless, did not stop—they climbed the metal titan, entwining every joint and plate, until even the soulless Frame was claimed by the Cosmic Tree’s ever-thickening vines.

“As the Cosmic Tree bloomed at daybreak,” Fei intoned, her voice resonating from within the hollow Frame, “it whispered to me…”

The eyes of the Frame Unit snapped open, blazing with an orange brilliance. Light surged through its body like molten veins, bleeding out from the cracks in its armor. The glow erupted in waves, spilling into the roots and fueling the Tree’s exponential ascent. What emerged was no abomination, no grotesque parody of nature, but a true colossus of creation: a tree so vast it dwarfed mountains, its bark a deep earthen brown, its canopy a sea of pure, untainted green. Its branches clawed toward the heavens, brushing the clouds as they reached for Xyraxis itself.

The leaves shimmered under the newborn sun, their emerald surfaces catching the first golden rays. And then the light swelled, blinding, transcendent.

“This tree… shall be the guiding light of reality,” Fei whispered, her final words carried like a prayer upon the dawn.

The Cosmic Tree blazed with gold. And with that light… reality itself was rewritten.

I see fragments of memories—shards of a distant past, flickering like old film.

The wind hums softly through the fields, carrying the faint scent of earth and wildflowers. This is a quiet corner of New China, far removed from the towering cities and their relentless hum.

A girl turns her gaze toward the boy. Her golden eyes glint like molten sunlight beneath her long lashes. Midnight-black hair cascades down her back, swaying with every hesitant step she takes. Her porcelain skin gleams pale against the verdant green. She studies him with a guarded curiosity—this stranger who appeared only yesterday.

Fear stirs within her chest.

The boy is different. Thin, almost fragile, his complexion pale like moonlight. His curly brown hair frames a face marked by something far more sinister: crimson, root-like scars winding around his neck, spreading like veins across his shoulders and left arm. They pulse faintly, as though alive. And then there are his eyes—cold, mechanical, gleaming with an artificial light that has no place in a human soul. Cybernetic. Inhuman.

She remembers the whispers. Eavesdropping behind wooden walls as adults spoke in hushed voices. A white man in a formal suit and fedora had brought the boy here, stepping into their humble village like a shadow from another world. The name Xyraxis passed between their lips—a world that is alien. They said the boy came from there. That he would stay in their village only for a while… a guest in exile, waiting for the Orbeus Family to claim him and take him back to that distant, otherworldly planet.

As for why, the girl does not know.

Her mind drifts to the words of her adoptive mother, spoken like an iron decree carved into her soul:

“Fei Xian. You shall become a Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Unit, and aid the Neo-Terrestrial Reich in Xyraxis. This is to repay our debt to them.”

Even now, those words echo in her heart—cold, merciless, and impossible to understand.

Morning sunlight spilled across the village, gilding the endless stretch of rice fields in hues of gold and green. The air was cool and sweet, carrying the distant trill of sparrows. In the quiet of that dawn, she saw him—the strange boy with the crimson scars and the hollow, cybernetic eyes—sitting alone in the backyard. His frail silhouette was framed by the rising sun, like a lone figure carved into a painting.

She froze at the doorway, tray trembling in her hands. Her task was simple: bring him breakfast. A plate of steaming dumplings, warm and fragrant, the soy sauce glistening in a small porcelain bowl. Yet the thought of approaching him sent her stomach into knots. Her heart thudded violently, like a drum echoing through her ears.

Just give him the food, Fei. It’s just breakfast…

She drew a shaky breath, tightened her grip on the tray, and took her first step. Then another. And another. The world felt heavier with every stride—until fate decided to trip her. Literally.

“Kyaaa!”

Her foot caught on a rock, and in an instant, the world tilted. She pitched forward, tray flying from her hands as gravity claimed her. Her face landed squarely into the soy sauce bowl with a wet splat.

Silence.

Then—

“Ah!”

The boy startled, springing up from where he sat. His expression, usually so cold, so alien, was etched with surprise. He crossed the yard in quick strides, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice laced with genuine concern.

“I-I’m fine!” she sputtered, springing upright as fast as dignity would allow. Her cheeks burned crimson beneath the streaks of black sauce now smeared across her porcelain skin. She swiped furiously at her face with trembling hands. “Awww, I spilled it all over… Now it’s dirty!”

The boy chuckled softly—a sound so human, it disarmed her fear. “Don’t worry about it.”

Before she could protest, he bent down, plucked one of the fallen dumplings from the dirt, wiped it against his sleeve, and popped it into his mouth without hesitation. “See? Still good,” he said with a grin. “We should destroy the evidence before the grown-ups see us.”

Her golden eyes widened, then sparkled with mischief. “R-right!”

And so, under the quiet morning sun, the two of them sat on the grass and devoured every last dumpling—dirt, soy sauce, and all—like co-conspirators in a harmless crime.

“Hey, uh… after this…” The boy spoke with his mouth full, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk. “Let’s try some noodles. Japanese, I think they call it… ramen.”

“Sure,” she replied softly, her voice light as the breeze. Her own cheeks puffed out adorably as she chewed, making her look like a little squirrel in the morning light.

And so it began. Their first meeting—awkward, messy, and strangely perfect. A boy and a girl. The boy who would one day be called a terrorist. The girl who was destined to be an assassin. Two broken souls who would never fit in the world as it was… yet, somehow, fit perfectly together.

In the end, their fates were bound—not by chance, but by design. The Xian Clan and the Neo-Terrestrial Reich conspired, weaving their names together for motives steeped in ambition and blood. Pawns on a board, both of them—two souls caught in the coils of an empire’s greed.

And yet… amid all the shadows and schemes, one truth burned brighter than the stars: their love knew no boundaries. Not even when their own families became their greatest enemies. Not even when the sky split open with the roars of Cosmic Beasts. Not even when the entirety of humankind stood against them.

He rewrote destiny with his own hands, hacking into the very core of Orbital Tech Applied Kinetics University’s AI, ensuring they would be paired—come hell or high water. She dirtied her hands with schemes of her own, bending the rules, betraying loyalties, and paving the way for a war that would shake the heavens.

Both sinned. Both bled. Both bore the weight of choices that stained their souls.

And yet… one thing remained unshakable:

They were meant for each other.

Even if the world crumbles into dust.

Even if reality itself collapses into nothingness.

Even if the Cosmic Tree blooms once more—and their very existence is erased from the fabric of creation.

When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I felt was the cold kiss of wind against my cheeks. I was standing atop a skyscraper—its steel bones rising into a sky draped in velvet darkness. Above me, the stars shimmered like scattered shards of glass, and beyond them, a meteor shower streaked across the heavens in silent arcs of fire.

I drew a slow breath, tasting the sterile tang of my helmet’s recycled air. Xyraxis… I was back.

Below, the city pulsed with life—towers aglow with cascading neon, rivers of light coursing through streets that never slept. Each building hummed with energy, a symphony of technology and excess. And yet, this place felt hollow now.

This rooftop… I knew it. A whisper of memory surfaced—this is where I brought Myrrh on our last date. A fragile smile ghosted my lips, only to vanish when reality clawed me back.

I looked down at myself. The space suit clung to my body, scuffed and scarred from the chaos before. My fingers twitched, still locked around something cold and unyielding.

“Zaft.”

The voice—soft, trembling—cut through the emptiness.

I turned. And there she was. Myrrh. Still in her plugsuit, her lime-green hair swaying gently in the breeze, ribbons fluttering like wilted petals. Her blue eyes were wide, quivering with disbelief… and fear.

“Was that Neil and Fei?” she whispered, as if afraid the answer would shatter her.

“So… you saw it too,” I muttered, my throat dry.

Then I looked down at my hand, and froze.

The object I gripped was no weapon. No tool. It was the antique morpher. The same one Neil and Fei had held in those final moments.

My breath hitched. My jaw slackened. My stomach twisted in on itself like a collapsing star. No. No, no, no. The weight of it wasn’t metal—it was guilt, crushing, relentless.

“I’m sorry.” The words spilled out, raw and trembling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you all…”

The strength left my legs, and I crumpled to the cold steel floor, the morpher slipping from my grasp as my hands shook uncontrollably. Tears blurred the meteors above, turning starlight into smears of silver.

“Neil… Fei… Dianca…” My voice cracked as sobs tore free. “I’m sorry…”

For a moment, there was only silence—broken by the soft sound of footsteps. Then warmth enveloped me. Myrrh’s arms wrapped tight around my trembling frame, anchoring me against the void.

“Zaft…” Her voice was gentle, yet firm, like a lifeline cast into a storm. “Don’t blame yourself. Thanks to you, we were able to avert this disaster.”

“B-but…” My words fractured, barely more than a breath. “I couldn’t save any of them…”

Her hand rose, fingers tender as they brushed my cheek, wiping away the grief that refused to stop flowing.

“Never forget,” she murmured, her forehead pressing softly against mine. “Never forget how many people you did save.”

And as the first light of dawn bled across the horizon, spilling gold into the dying night, I clung to her, the weight of my sins heavy in my chest, as a fragile warmth fought to take root within the darkness.