Bakabu really did like Ado. He kept asking when we’d “wake him up,” and I didn’t know what to say.
I was heartsick. I truly thought we could bring him back.
Later, Lord Julian told me he could collect all of our memories related to Ado and attempt to manufacture a new Minks. And not only Minks—if we wanted, he could even “revive” Eisen and Pinecone as well.
I was grateful for the offer. But would rebuilt versions still be them? Like a clone—would it still be the original person?
After thinking it through, I agreed to give Julian my memories so he could reconstruct Minks. The main reason was simple: I wanted him to keep Bakabu company.
As for Pinecone and Eisen… let me think a little longer.
***
Speaking of memory—ever since Starling was rescued, I’d been collecting andorganizing everything.
No grand reason. I just wanted, once she recovered, to show her in detail the things she hadn’t lived through, so her memories wouldn’t feel severed. Linneya had shown me every video she’d recorded. I owed her something back.
So I archived our round-the-world trip properly—some clips even with narration. Combined with what I already had, it would keep Starling busy for days.
And of course… it included what happened afterward too.
***
Miller gave us one month. In reality, Julian had everything ready in fifteen days. By day twenty-four, Azure Thunder and Limit were also capable of deep-space travel.
He even went out of his way to refit a Black Crow-class frigate for me, replacing the now-defunct Free Will. The new ship looked almost identical—Free Will had been an upgraded build based on the Black Crow frame in the first place.
Starling… I have a ship again.
Linneya insisted on naming it. Want to guess what she chose?
Marshmallow.
It’s… memorable.
Day twenty-six: Azure Thunder and the other warships lifted off. They cleared debris from orbital space—meteoroids and the wreckage left over from the last war—so New Sunflower could launch safely.
That same day, under Teresa’s and Landon’s organization, Edean held a grand banquet. A last night on Lansen Planet—spent in celebration.
Day twenty-seven. A day with weight.
Humans boarded New Sunflower and, that evening, lifted off.
New Sunflower would make three orbits—partly to use the planet’s gravity to accelerate, partly to let humans take one last look at the world that had trapped them for so long. Inside the ship, emotions ran wild. Farewell rituals sprang up everywhere: some people sobbed, some laughed, some looked like they’d finally set down a boulder, some stared ahead at the future… everyone had something in their throat.
Day twenty-eight: my Marshmallow finished refit.
Day twenty-nine: Julian shut down every factory and base on Lansen Planet and severed all hard links to surface facilities.
Day thirty, early morning: Limit and Marshmallow lifted off from Five-Color Fortress. Lord Blin and all my companions were aboard those two ships, waiting for me in orbit.
The entire planet had been emptied—except for me.
And I had one last thing to do. Once it was done, I’d rendezvous with them… and then we’d leave together.
***
Before dawn, I returned to the mountaintop platform and waited.
About three hours later, I heard wings. I looked up and saw the same winged lizardfolk from before. It circled once above me and said three words.
“Come with me.”
Then it headed south. I followed immediately.
We flew out of Aurora Plateau, crossed Forebears Bay, and reached Prilan Continent. We passed through the Cabegeld Plain into the Serin River valley, then followed the river south as the channel narrowed and the mountains thickened.
Five hours. No sign of slowing.
If I’d known this was a long haul, I would’ve ridden Marshmallow.
Another hour later, we reached the Biquya Range—mountains stacked like teeth. A massive Luofu drifted in the sky ahead. I recognized it at once. Miller’s seat of power.
The lizardfolk said, “We’re here.”
But it didn’t climb. It dove between the mountains instead.
I didn’t ask. I followed, weaving around two peaks. Only then did it slow.
I heard water.
A colossal waterfall spilled down the stone face. And there, on a boulder near the lip, stood Miller.
***
I don’t know what we said to each other at first. My mind kept snagging on one thought:
Is he really going to do it?
Then Miller took out a container—black liquid, thick as ink.
Only when he poured it onto himself did I realize how wrong my assumptions were. It didn’t run down his body. It spread—as if alive—crawling across him with hungry intent.
Miller’s face twisted.
“Aaaah—!”
His body began to dissolve.
He forced a smile anyway.
“My friend… farewell.”
“You—”
I couldn’t even find words. It was like throwing a living person into strong acid—no, faster than that.
“With my body, I become all things. From this day, all living beings begin.”
Miller laughed—half delirious, half exalted.
In seconds, half his face was gone. His legs could no longer support what had turned into sludge.
He toppled off the waterfall.
“Miller!”
I stumbled forward and shouted down into the spray, helpless.
“Miller King has become a god,” the lizardfolk—Haken—said as he stepped up beside me.
“A god?” I snapped, still stunned. “That wasn’t ascension. That was suicide.”
Miller’s position on the rock was stained with a lump of black mud, still twitching. But like fuel consumed by flame, it burned out fast. Within seconds it turned to ash.
Haken swept water with a wing and washed the ash into the falls.
“No,” he said. “He dissolved his genes into the water. It won’t be long before the most primitive life is born from it.”
I stood there, unable to move.
“He… sacrificed himself,” I murmured.
“If you insist on that word,” Haken said, “I won’t argue.” Then his tone turned cold.
“Now go. You heard what the Father God said. If you ever dare come back, we’re enemies.”