Honkai: Star Rail — Kamen Rider!

The artificial sun had long since gone out, and darkness now covered the planet.

And yet—the planet was not swallowed in blackness.

Because there was something brighter than the man-made sun, something whose radiance poured down even fuller than before, blazing over the world.

Something larger than any building on the planet.

It squatted over the land like an enormous cocoon—not grotesque, but suffused with an unexplainable holiness.

Inside was the Aeon of Propagation about to be born. Her aura was still lacking, the ascension incomplete—

But already, the kind of power that could twist the physical world at will was rippling outward.

Around her stood countless identical faces—

Walkers of Propagation, clones of the Aeon herself.

As the Aeon neared birth, they offered their congratulations.

And the only way they knew to celebrate their god's coming was to enact her Path:

Propagation through act and form.

To speak of propagation was to speak of reproduction and growth.

So they laid offerings before the Aeon: roots, plants, worms, all organic life.

Let them feel the Aeon's glory—and then join the march of propagation.

They stripped the surroundings bare like locusts, turning everything into ruin, and all of it was for the sake of the Aeon's birth.

Their purpose was unshifting. Their doctrine, unchanged. For the one leading them was the great Aeon of Propagation—Titanironia.

Then suddenly—they all stiffened.

As if receiving some unseen command, every gaze turned in the same direction.

It was a street the Aeon's light did not touch—a place that should have been utterly dark.

But there—another light began to shine.

A thin gleam of emerald green, followed by countless sparks, until the entire length blazed into a glowing line of fire.

Disharmony. Not permitted.

Before the Aeon's birth, no discord could be allowed.

All must serve propagation—no voice, no movement could differ from it.

The silver-white tide surged like a living wave, rushing down that dark street to wipe the discord out.

If Titanironia had been outside the cocoon, she might not have sent her own creations—

for every companion (myself) was precious, and she would not have let them throw their lives away.

But she was not here. She was in the cocoon, nearing emergence.

And so—leaderless—the clone army charged like mad things.

Then—dark-red flames burst through them!

Tiny shapes flared in the night like fireflies, small but blazing bright.

They dove into the silver tide, gouging a narrow path through sheer force.

"This is our ground. Keep moving forward—don't look back!"

Shunji's voice rang out to Sora, her whole body wreathed in surging, dark-red fire,

a falling meteor in the storm.

She plunged into the tide like a streaking star, the wave closing over her a moment later—

Boom!

The explosion shook the air. Flaming fragments of silver bodies rained down,

the fire eating away the propagation force in each piece so it could never regrow.

"I never fight without preparation."

Shunji always laid the groundwork before striking.

She and her squad had come here only after discovering a way to fight the clones.

In every battle before, apart from Sora, they had done almost no lasting harm to Titanironia's copies.

But in the fighting, Shunji had noticed something, the moment Hotaru had shared her awakening, she had burned with the fire of Nihility, and passed what she had learned into the others.

That fire, when shared, could burn the clones so they could no longer breed and multiply.

"Hey!" Sora's tone sharpened at the sight.

This was Nihility's flame—too much exposure, and they could be swallowed by it, losing self entirely, becoming self-annihilators.

Shunji only gave him one answer:

"I believe in you."

Her flames roared higher, holding the road's end against the tide alone.

One after another, more figures joined her, pushing the silver wave back.

"We believe in you too."

The voices were nearly identical, yet each with its own shade of tone.

Sora felt the trust in those words. His own blade shone brighter.

Pushing back the wave, they called out to him:

"We know you'll finish it—before the Nihility takes us completely. You'll beat her."

They had not known him long—yet not once had they doubted him. Not once had their trust wavered.

"She's not even a complete Aeon yet. For you, that's nothing."

However strange their confidence, the hope in it made Sora's grip tighten.

"So—leave this place to us!!!"

Fwoom!!

The fire linked together, burning through the silver tide, warriors forming living anchor points that drove the line forward.

And then—the tide split.

Through the middle of the wall of silver, the fire held a gap clear—

No clones, no barriers to block him.

Sora's mind flashed on a memory from another life—

A story called Moses Parting the Red Sea.

Only here, it was not a god's hand that parted the waters—

It was their hands.

The silver tide still tried to close,

but the thin wall of fire they held was unbreakable.

In that moment, the bracelet at Sora's wrist burned hot—

The Symbol of Friendship they had given him, and the reminder of their wish.

Go. We'll clear the path to the evil god.

Save your strength for that moment.

Everything else—leave it to us.

There was only one thing left for him to do—

"Keep moving forward!"

He stomped the ground—

Bang!

The earth split beneath him, and he shot forward like an emerald arrow,

straight through the gap.

His target was clear. His task—simple.

"I'll use this power…"

His helm's visor blazed red, the color echoing the fire in the walls beside him.

The yellow-green at his wrist was drowned in deep crimson.

"…To reach that ideal world."

Every last one of you will make it back.

That was his promise to himself.

The black cape cracked like a whip in the wind, then faded from earshot.

Watching him go, Shunji thought of the scene Hotaru had once shown them—

a plan called Scorched Earth.

If it worked, the battlefield would be strewn with corpses, friend and foe alike, all taken by Glamoth's command.

Hotaru had seen it, doubted it, rejected it—and awakened, vowing to keep her friends alive in her memory.

"And here we are… doing Scorched Earth," Shunji murmured.

Burning themselves without restraint, turning the clone swarm to ash.

In the end, their bodies might end the same way.

"No, Captain—that's not it…"

"Yeah. This isn't Scorched Earth at all."

"He's going to win. He'll take us all to the place he promised."

The protest stopped her. Then—she laughed.

A bright, free laugh.

"You're right. This isn't about dying with the enemy."

This was breaking the last chains—

The final step toward new life.

No one would stop them. Not even an Aeon.

And with that, the operation's name could change.

Shunji straightened, fire in her voice.

"Agreement passed. Fyrefly Squad, hear my command—"

"Commence… the Battle for Rebirth!"