As the three of them stepped onto the station platform, a fine mist snaked up from the cracks in the cobblestones, clinging to their soles as if licking them. The resonance of the "low bell" had already vanished, but the ghosts of its vibrations lingered as subtle distortions in the air. With every breath, a cold, metallic tang spread deep into their lungs.
Koyoi scanned their surroundings. The station was utterly devoid of life. Thick layers of cobwebs draped across the ticket booth windows, a single strand catching the light of the Principle—reflecting an eerie, silver geometric pattern.
Kuon’s artificial eye traced the text of the Catalog line by line. His pace was noticeably slower than usual; the very meaning of the characters seemed to shift and warp by the second, forcing him to read the same lines over and over. A deep furrow was carved into Kuon’s brow. The azure glow of his eye flickered erratically, like a warning light on a piece of precision machinery pushed to the brink of failure.
"...Look. This is the weight of the Principle’s 'Judgment.' They’ve been using this place as an information scrapyard. They were physically 'culling' the incompatible records."
Kuon spoke flatly, yet that very lack of emotion betrayed the depth of the turmoil swirling within him. It wasn't a flare of passion, but a frozen rage—compressed over long years, solidified into a crystal of something bordering on despair, too hard to ever explode. As he closed the Catalog, his hands trembled slightly.
"Culling? Then... what about those children? You're saying we can't save the gods freezing in this place?"
Tears welled in Koyoi’s eyes. They weren't born of sadness alone. The terror that they might be beyond help clashed with a desperate longing to save them, two opposing forces colliding in his chest until they overflowed.
Koyoi wiped his eyes with his sleeve and pulled his drawstring pouch close. As if in response to his sorrow, the three deities slumbering within returned a faint, pulsing warmth. That small heat was the final fortress remaining in his heart.
Asahi walked ahead in silence, sword resting against his shoulder. His broad back was a wall shielding Koyoi and Kuon from the threats behind them, yet also a compass pointing the way forward. His steps were heavy and certain; with every footfall on the cobblestones, a slight tremor rippled through the ground, sending hairline fractures across the surface of the frozen "Void Layer."
"...Better not call out. The moment you speak their names, our side will be the first to be eroded."
Koyoi pressed his lips together, stifling the call he had been about to make. Instead, he sent a silent prayer through his heart to the freezing gods—a voiceless cry.
Even so, he felt the droplet inside the pouch pulse once, strongly. Even without a name, the message had reached them. That certainty became a small lantern in the depths of his soul, softening the freezing darkness of the station, if only by a fraction.
The three of them moved slowly across the stones, muffling their footsteps. Beyond the mist, something unknown lay in wait. Only its presence shivered faintly at the bottom of the cold, stagnant air.