A/N: I went back and made some edits, as well as fleshed out a few points. One of the notable additions made was the inclusion of an entity I am currently calling Proto-Stelle, who at this point is a nominal extension of Obliteration/Caelus, though she behaves more like an AI companion. More on this later.

Chapter Six: Burn the land and boil the seas

Mona Lisa groggily cracked an eye open at her alarm's incessant ringing. If she weren't confident of the sound-proofing of the crew cabins, she would have picked a quieter alarm or foregone the routine entirely and slept in.

She swung out from the covers and let her weight settle on her braced legs before dressing for the day.

Reflecting on the recent shuffle made in the script, she was somewhat less than amused at so many of the Stellaron Hunters being placed in close proximity. Not that she didn't get along with any of them, and the Kestral was a fine ship.

The pilot, on the other hand...

Of course, even knowing the circumstances, she would have made the same choices, and that meant following the stage directions she was given.

Moving through to the galley, she spotted Obi sitting at the table with a girl with short cut, silvery hair, with a chess board set up between the two of them. By a casual glance, Obi appeared to be winning for once, which his light flickered in amusement, a soft ringing of feminine laughter echoing from that particular corner.

"Morning, Lisa," Obi said with a wave.

"G'merning," Lisa mumbled back, then beginning her search for some coffee before stopping in her tracks – suddenly wide awake – and slowly turned around to take the scene at the table again. "And just who is this cutie?" she asked.

"Right. Lisa, meet SAM, our latest addition to the roster. SAM, meet Mona Lisa, our resident hacking expert, formerly of the Intelligentsia Guild."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," said SAM.

Lisa arched an eyebrow. "That isn't your given name, is it?"

"No, ma'am."

"Please, we're hardly in any formal order. Just call me Mona Lisa. Or just Lisa, if you prefer." Smiling at the younger girl, Lisa gave her a quick look-over. "I would have thought Kafka to put more effort into your wardrobe."

Obi shrugged, then said, "We only had so much time to shop before we got the next script, so we stuck with the essentials."

"I see. Well, I can ameliorate this here and now. Come along, cutie."

[HSR]

Firefly followed Lisa to the her quarters, where she pulled out a jewelry box of considerable size, flipped the latches, and all but threw it open.

"Is this necessary?" asked Firefly.

"It is entirely necessary." She held up a pair of earrings of gold set with sapphires, "We ladies need to look our best." The earrings were held up between the two of them, and Lisa closed an eye. "Hm…close, but not quite. We'd need to work on piercing your ears, too."

Lisa reached for the top of Firefly's head, only for the girl to seize her wrist. Not so much as to break it, but deftly enough to convey that was only by deliberate effort.

"I think I like the headband," Firefly said, firmly.

"As you wish. But it doesn't hurt to accessorize." Lisa gently pulled her hand away and turned back to the jewelry box, rummaging around a bit more. "Ribbons, broaches. You're a young lady. Shiny baubles are a must."

"I believe I am older than you. And not merely chronologically."

Lisa laughed. "As much as I appreciate your appeals to my vanity, how much experience do you have with spheres beyond your duties?"

"…"

"My point stands. You've been a soldier for so long that I think you've forgotten that living means more than being alive. And your sense of aesthetic is primarily bound to dress and uniform standards, I imagine." Lisa's hand gently brushed up against Firefly's implants. Surprisingly, she didn't immediately flinch from the woman's touch, or her proximity. "Do these hurt any?" she asked.

"Negative."

"Okay. I think I have just the thing."

A hand went of the jewelry box, and pulled out a bit of cloth with a piece of opal in the middle, with black frills blooming out like a little flower.

"This is a choker. Do you mind if I help you put it on?"

With a brief nod of acquiescence, Lisa set the article in place and gently secured it by some ribbons that were just a shade or two brighter than the rest of the material. The band of cloth was broad enough to cover her neck, and soft enough not to be irritating.

"How does it feel?" Lisa asked, slowly pulling away once she was

"It is not restrictive," Firefly answered.

"It should cover up your cybernetics a bit, should you find a preference with lower necklines." "Now, about the hair…you seem to like the hairband, but it seems to be lacking a little flair. Aha!" A pair of teal ribbons with gold, floral patterns at the ends, giving it a shine beneath the light.

Lisa's voice continued on, and Firefly only tuned back in when a brush started stroking across her hair. "Obi isn't a terrible judge of value, little as he consciously adheres to anything resembling standards of beauty." Slowly, Firefly allowed herself to relax under the woman's ministrations, taking in the scent of flowers. "Luckily, you're pretty enough to do our work justice."

Firefly frowned. "Is there any cause for such deficiencies in Obi's judgment?"

"No, not as such. But it does come across as rather peculiar for a Scion of Nanook."

"…What?"

"It's a little complicated, partially because he's not entirely sure himself, but he's something of a byproduct of the Destruction's rampage across the stars, coalesced into the person shape you see today." Lisa's hands stopped a moment, before resuming the stroking motions again. "He could have become one of the Lord Ravagers, I think. Not that he ever was, but he has the potential, even now, should he ever have the mind for it."

Firefly frowned at the thought. The capacity to become an Emanator, but no real desire to reach for that potential. A creation with no intention to follow their design. Quite simply, rebellion against their own existence.

A mirror was held up and a gasp nearly sprang from Firefly's throat as blinked at her own reflection, barely recognizing what she saw. Dawnslight's voice echoed in the back of her mind, during one of her many protocol breaches in the field.

"If everyone looked the same, how would we tell each other apart?"

In the present, Her hair had taken on a more lustrous hue than she was accustomed to. Some of her hair was pulled aside and tied off with the ribbons, leaving some of her bangs to hang loosely above her eyes.

"You're a cute young lady, aren't you?" Lisa mused, then gently patted her on the shoulder. "Come along. Let's show the others."

Going back the way they had come, Firefly suddenly felt self-conscious as Lisa presented her with a flourish.

Sike flicked his sunglasses down, peering over. For the first time, she had actually seen him without any kind of obstruction over his eyes. Long black slits surrounded by sickly brown and gold colors, resembling a brown dwarf. He smiled, and then leaned back and turned to Obi, asking, "What're your thoughts, Silver Tongue?"

"Obi," the light blipped, dancing around his head. When no reply was immediately forthcoming, a series noises imitating some kind of instrument buzzed into his ears, which snapped him out of his stupor long enough to flick at this companion.

"I believe we can declare that a – quite literally – stunning success," said Sike, turning back to his tablet.

A loud fwoop at the table, knocking a cup over and off the table, clattering along the floor. Firefly nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion, falling into a combat-ready stance when she identified the newcomer.

Strangely enough, a cat as black as midnight sat on the table, golden eyes glinting in the galley lights, then somehow managed to smile and say, "Hello, all. I see my entrance is as diverting as ever."

"Elio," Lisa greeted, "A pleasure for you to grace us with your presence."

The cat – Elio – bobbed his head. "Your pleasantries are appreciated, Miss Lisa. I see your faces enough at a distance. It's nice to being able to see them like this." He paused, turning towards Firefly. "And I see you've already met the latest addition to our ranks. However, as much as I would like to stay and chat, I require Obi's presence. There are some more…elaborate considerations that are better addressed in person." The cat bobbed its head to the side, and added, "in a manner of speaking."

"Of course," Obi replied, stepping out of dining area and towards the crew quarters. Once he was out of sight and hearing, Firefly sat back at the table.

Sike shook his head and refilled the cup that had been dropped "One of these days, I'm going to get used to the boss' idea of an entrance."

Firefly considered this odd occurrence. "I thought Elio was a human."

"He is," Lisa answered, "though he uses the cat as a sort of relay or an extension of himself. A familiar, you might say."

"He calls it a forced perspective," Sike explained, "and it helps him keep his visions out for brief moments."

"And knocking over the cup?" Firefly asked.

"His idea of a joke. There's usually something on the table when he wants to appear, and he almost always pops up just slightly adjacent to whatever that object happens to be. He once smacked a loaded dinner plate into one of our past compatriots."

Lisa laughed. "I don't think Thirteen ever let that go."

The mood of the room suddenly turned somber.

"Is something the matter?" Firefly asked.

"Not as such. Thirteen was one of our past compatriots. He died, what? A dozen jobs ago?"

"Something like that." Sike grimaced and downed the rest of his coffee. "Our lot doesn't have a long shelf life. Either we get sloppy or someone else gets lucky. Thirteen got hit with the latter, and I daresay he was happy for it."

Before the beam of light struck down, annihilating the Propagation Emanator, and Smokescreen with it, the battle cry of the Cavalry shouted through the radio,"FOR HER MAJESTY!"

Firefly willed the flashes of combat away before they could encroach on her consciousness, a slight gesture that did not go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry," said Lisa. "Was that upsetting for you?"

"Not particularly," Firefly answered, stiffly. "Just…memories. What can you tell me about him, your former teammate?"

"He was a solider, an Orbital-Drop Shock Trooper. He and his fellows would load up into pods that were sent hurtling into atmosphere where the battle was. The survival rate of the unit was horrendously low, and yet he had come out of each one virtually unscathed. The same couldn't be said for his fellow troopers." She paused, pouring out another mug of coffee for herself. "I think you might have gotten along with him, both of you being soldiers. Though I think it's good you don't appear to share his sentiments in battle."

"What she means is he had a rather particular drive to see himself die in battle," Sike explained. "A sort of reparation for all the battles he survived when his companions didn't. And there were a mighty large number of them he had outlived before the end."

"That is…"

"Fucked up? Tell me about it. But that's the curse for all of us on this boat, I think. We all want something we can't otherwise have, and we're betting our lives, our very being in the hopes that when this fight is done, we'll finally have it. Even if all we're hoping for is peace in death."

Lisa frowned. "I can't say I disagree with you, but can we maybe move the topic of conversation to something a little lighter? We can save the philosophy for another time. Probably when we have everyone in the same room."

"That's fine by me," Sike said, raising his mug enthusiastically. "So what'll it be, kid? Any questions for the grown-ups while you have us to yourself?"

Firefly thought it over, and asked, "You've said you've tried giving Obi a proper Name, right?"

"Oh, plenty of times."

"And he hasn't accepted any of them?"

"Nope! We've paraded several dozen by this point, but he never seems to take a liking to any of them."

"Kafka tried calling him Tolstoy at one point," Lisa added. "It's the only one we've managed to keep on any legal identification, so we've been treating it like a prospective surname."

Firefly contemplated the information given, and asked, "And what have your contributions been, Sike?"

Sike actually stood up, dramatically gesticulating as he articulated. "George Prepard, Captain Fazzpants, and Roy…"

Lisa laughed, heartily. "Really? Are you surprised he rejected all of those out of hand?"

"Not like your suggestions got any further."

"What were your suggestions, Lisa?" Firefly asked.

"Nero, Virgil, Dante-"

Sike snorted. "The kid's neither a poet nor an academic. Stop trying to name him like one."

"You're doing it wrong," Firefly interrupted, then turned to Lisa. "Do you have a book that has names and their meanings?"

"I believe I can get you one." Lisa's eyes snapped to Sike. "Hush, you."

"I said nothing."

"You were thinking it."

"We both know you're not a mind-reader, Ash."

"No, but you're thoughts are loud enough I don't need to be."

Firefly ignored the bickering the two descended into.

[HSR]

Wandering the cargo hold with the e-book she had gotten from Lisa, Firefly scratched at her brow at the sheer number of names, their meanings and history. Lost in her studies, she nearly tripped over a metallic leg.

"Proximity Alert," said Exel, his optics flashing in the dimmed lights as his head swiveled around.

"For a war machine, you're rather quiet," Firefly observed, standing up straight. "These are your quarters, aren't they? I can leave."

"Unnecessary. Observation: bickering between Mona Lisa and Sike tends to evoke avoidance behaviors."

"So they're always like that?"

"Largely. Statement: knowledge of biological reproduction is limited, but it is understood that copulation is required. Inquiry: what purpose is there behind acquiring a book on baby names?"

Firefly stared flatly, then turned back to the book. "I'm trying to find a name for Obi."

"Is 'Obliteration' insufficient as a designation?" Exel asked.

"As a designation? No. But it's not a proper Name."

"Inquiry: what examples constitute an adequate name?"

Resting against the wall, Firefly continued reading. "Some of my old comrades had names like Bonecrush, Sourcefield, Grimlock, Steelheart, Chatterbox. We weren't born. We were manufactured. Mass-produced. So we didn't have parents, and our creators didn't care enough to give each of us a special designation beyond our production and service serial numbers."

"Observation: by these standards, Obliteration is an acceptable designation for a warrior."

"It's not about whether it's appropriate. It was given by enemies." The tablet hung at Firefly's side as she leaned against the bulkhead. "Names were all we had, and all we had to give. Letting someone take that distinction from us was unacceptable."

"Understood. You wish to offer the same to Obliteration. Curious: how is one named among your kind?"

Firefly pulled up the tablet again and continued scrolling down the list. "Tradition goes that if you survived your first few sorties, you were given a Name. Your squadron leader would gather everyone in your squad with whatever we could get a hold of to drink, even if it was just purified water, and then you were dubbed by one of the most defining attributes of your personality or combat performance, or a combination if they couldn't decide."

Exel's optics shifted and refocused as it processed the information.

"Hypothesis: so a Name," the machine's voicebox pitched strangely at the emphasis, "is a recognition of one's efforts, or a promise of future achievements?"

"I suppose that's a way of looking at it."

"Inquiry: what was the most distinctive achievements that led to you being dubbed 'Firefly'? Observation: such insects are fragile, delicate."

"My squadron leader had me dubbed 'Fireflight'. Among the unit, I had the highest rating for aerial combat, and fire was the most common weapon I chose from the armory. The ending of 'flight' tended to get lost in the heat of combat, though, and one of my wingmates started calling me 'Firefly'."

"Analysis: perhaps that would be more appropriate beginning of any further investigations."

Firefly looked back to the book, and pulling up the search bar and typing in a possible

"Curious: will Obliteration's extension be afforded the same courtesy?"

"I'll let the two of them work it out between themselves. Though having some suggestions at the ready may prove useful." Firefly frowned. "What is she anyway?"

"No data available. That is an inquiry best directed towards the subject in question."

"Then how about yourself? You seem adverse to using any self-identifying pronouns. Is there a reason for that?"

"This unit is comprised of eleven different processor cores that were integrated into a single cohesive by combined efforts of Mona Lisa, Dozer, and Obliteration, and subsequently modified over multiple iterations. The original template was formed from parts of an advance combat mech, several construction machines, and an assortment of mining modules. The result is as you see here."

"Hm. Perhaps we'll find a Name for you, too."

"Objection: it would be preferable acquire such a designation by personal efforts. Amendment: however, such an offer is appreciated nonetheless."

[HSR]

The shuttle crested over the last ridge to the accompaniment of anti-air fire. A scattering of interconnected structures formed around a central compound that had once been a mining outpost was now being used as a smuggler's den.

And it was being used as their latest supply dump.

"Bombs away!" Sike announced. Executing a gut-wrenching flip, the shuttle ejected the Stelleron Hunters out at force, flying past the outer perimeter defenses and straight into the heart of the facility.

"Weapon systems activated," Exel bellowed, and the whine of a chain gun erupted from the cloud they produced, SAM and Obi storming out soon after to engage the smugglers' ragtag security team, leaving Kafka and Lisa to find the command tower and the main databanks, respectively.

"Have you ever thought of any witty one-liners in combat?" Obi asked with absolutely zero preamble as he sent a gunman flying across the base.

"Excessive chatter would be a detriment in efficient communication," Firefly answered, firing a barrage of fireballs silenced a squad that was trying to outflank them. "And an unnecessary distraction in the heat of battle. Repositioning."

More explosions shook the ground as Exel continued his march in the other direction.

"Come on, SAM," Obi's little light almost whined. "Where's your sense of fun?"

Obi tapped on the side of his helmet. "Here. Maybe a demonstration would help." He caught another unlucky soul that had managed to get close enough for him to grab. "I hope you brought your wallet, because the rent in Hell gets paid in advance!"

The smuggler was then hurled into a modified mining loader, which Obi proceeded to body-check into the nearby ravine.

"It draws undesired attention." Diving down into the warehouse, Firefly entered her combustion state, screams rapidly dying out from the heat. "Sector cleared."

"You're a giant, intimidating warrior in shiny power armor. You're going to be eye-catching no matter what. Why not own up to the bit?"

"That is entirely unnecessary. Monologuing would leave you vulnerable to potential counter-attack or flanking maneuvers."

"But it grabs the attention and the imagination. Theatricality and deception are powerful agents, if thoughtfully applied." Another crash reverberated through the warehouse. "A well-timed, well-executed bluff can sometimes score you a victory you never had a chance for by gaming the enemy's psychology against them." Obi jogged into the open again. When no enemy fire was forthcoming, he radioed. "Hey, Exel. Looks like we're good on this end. You?"

"Surface facilities secured."

"Good to hear." Kafka interjected. "Whoever isn't currently escaping the planet is dealt with. Check the hanger. We should be able to find what we're looking for there."

"You got it, Kafka," Obi answered, and jerked his head towards the far end of the grounds where the cliffs met the flats.

Firefly's flames dimmed. "An unnecessary gamble when more efficient means of disposing of the enemy are at hand."

"And when all other means are exhausted?" Obi dug his hands into the hanger bay and forced them open, striding in. "Out of ammo, out of position, out of energy, food, or lacking any other kind of support, and your allies hanging on you doing your job…wouldn't it be better to have just one more card to play with your back to the wall?"

"If such an event were to occur, the mission is likely past failing anyhow."

"Grasping at straws much?" the light flickered, "Come on, 'fly. Work with us here."

"We're actors. We follow a script." Obi spun around and threw his arms out, looking more alive than usual, then dropped his voice to low, husky timber. "The world's a stage, and their ribcage is the runway. What are some of the directives you execute? Protocols? Tactical commands or unit formations?"

Firefly squinted at the duo. When the earnest curiosity of Obi refused to waver, she obliged him. "Scorched Earth: to sterilize any region of Swarm contaminants."

Obi snapped his fingers. "Fire," he said, then stood abruptly. "Come on. Let's get this wrapped up. When we're back on the Kestrel, we're going to watch some movies together. We've got to get you some good material."

[HSR]

The next stop for the Kestral was considerably bumpier. No sooner had they translated into the upper atmosphere for Hollow that they were bombarded with a confusing jumble of communications interlacing across the planet and shooting out into the void.

"Making any sense of it, Lisa?" asked Obi.

"Looks like our newest friend's already busy," she answered. "Sacrament is where he is currently, and he's giving them quite a hammering from the sounds of it."

Breaking through the clouds, a ravaged cityscape spread out before them. Plumes rising built into a haze that obscured any visual of the ground, save for the fires still burning.

"He did that all by himself?" Obi wondered aloud.

"I'd say it's more like the locals did it to themselves," Lisa answered, then turned to Kafka. "I know the script has us pick up this lunatic, but why?"

Kafka stood and said, "Hold that thought for a bit." Without warning, she dropped out of the shuttle.

Obi and SAM looked out the hatch where Kafka had dropped, and was now approaching a ragged-looking man with little more than tattered rags to cover him up, and poorly at that. Dark hair hung about his head in a ragged mane, and a long beard unkempt. Branches sprouted from various points of his body, glowing orange leaves forming buds waiting to bloom.

The recruit had been in the middle of eviscerating a medley of opponents. Mercenaries, police officers, a detachment of military assets. All now scattered around the expanse of rubble. In some cases, this was quite literal.

"Exel, keep overwatch. SAM, with me."

Both of them had nearly caught up to Kafka when she began to call out to him.

"Hello there!"

Hellishly orange pupils snapped towards them, focusing on Kafka as he began circling around like a predator, brandishing his cracked sword towards her.

"I'm sure you're having a lovely time eviscerating these people, but if I can borrow a moment of your time-"

The swordsman blurred towards her mid-sentence, and she had drawn her sword to catch the savage, downward slash, neatly sliding the blades apart and jabbing him in the back and deflecting his backward swipe and driving her sword into his chest and ripping it free.

Before their eyes, the flesh instantly knitted itself back together as he resumed his assault, only to have his arm cut off and then his hamstrings cut, dropping him to the ground, and then stabbed through the neck for his troubles.

Closer, Obi could see the man's hellishly orange eyes clouded in a haze of bloodlust as he threw himself off of the ground again. And again. And again, each time meeting Kafka's blade and taking what should have been a fatal wound, only to rise and try again.

Kafka sighed theatrically as she carved through most of his digestive tract, "I see you're going to make this difficult. Obi, SAM, if you please?"

[HSR]

Lisa and Sike sat in the shuttle, watching the proceedings from above, with only Exel's own interjections – namely by bursts of gunfire to break up the monotony. An hour later and several city blocks had been demolished in the clash, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

"He's making another run for it," Obi warned.

"Intercepting," SAM answered, and then another plume of flames erupted when she struck, claiming another building in this grinding contest of attrition.

"That's another for SAM," Sike drawled.

"Why did I start betting with you on this?" Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because we're otherwise sitting here doing nothing."

Another crash as two more building collapsed into the ground, subjected to a humanoid missile launched at velocities it was never designed to.

"And that's two more for Obi. How much longer, you think?"

Lisa sat up, looking a bit more closely. "Not much longer, I think. He's circling back to Kafka."

[HSR]

"Tracking," Firefly radioed in, and flew down, catching the fleeing subject, literally cutting him off at the knees.

Through a bit of trial and error, they had come to the conclusion that burns and crush injuries were a little trickier for the man to heal on the spot, slower to regenerate compared to a clean cut. She and Obi were the most proficient in those methods, so they had taken to punting him around, trying to separate him from his sword. Unfortunately, all attempts to disarm him had proven fruitless, so they had switched to trying to restrain him.

"Herd him towards me," Kafka ordered.

Without a beat of hesitation, Firefly rushed the swordsman again, immolating him as she dragged him through the ruined cityscape and throwing him at Kafka.

A smoking, carbonized skeleton came flying over the ruins coming to a stop a short distance from Kafka's feet. Already, she could see muscles and tendons regrowing and stitching back together. Landing next to her target, immediately stepping back when he slashed out at her, missing her by less than an inch.

By the time Obi had landed some seconds later, most of the man's tissue had regenerated completely, including the shaggy mess of hair. His eyes snapped open again, and he raced towards Kafka, ignoring the hail of gunfire she unleashed on him, turning his face into a ruin as he ran.

Just when he was about to reach her, Kafka swapped back to her sword, lighting wreathing the blade as she cleaved his sword arm clean off. The momentary surprise left him wide open, allowing Kafka to stab him through the throat, severing his brain stem followed by giving her sword a sharp twist as the electrical discharge scrambled the nerve impulses, forcing him to his knees.

Firefly came up and grabbed him from behind, lacking the man's arms behind his back and pinning him in place before his flesh regenerated.

"Target secured," she informed the others.

A smile of satisfaction spread on Kafka's face, and she wrenched her blade free. The swordsman's breathing returned, rough and ragged. Stooping down to eye-level with him, Kafka too his face into her hand, making him look her in the eye.

"Listen," she said, Spirit Whisper weaving itself into the man's mind. "I can always kill you again, otherwise I can't bring you back with us. But I don't want to. Not when there's a better use for both of our time and energy."

"What do you people want?" he rasped. Red-orange eyes flickered, never straying from Kafka's face.

Kafka's head tilted to the side, and she smiled lightly at him. "It's not about what I want. It's about what you want."

Teeth bared in a snarl. "And what do you think I want?"

"'Is there anything more satisfying than seeing how the undying die'?" she asked, rhetorically, and leaned close to the swordsman, whispering lowly, gently into his ear. "A Destiny where you can finally die. That is what he showed me. And I can show it to you as well, if you're willing to help us."

Resistance, whatever was left, bled away almost instantly. The brambles that had sprouted from his flesh shrank infinitesimally as Kafka continued to speak.

"That pain and agony you feel, that torment you live with every single day? There's a path you can take to see it truly end." Kafka looked up to Firefly and nodded, and the swordsman was released.

He slowly rose to his feet, gritting his teeth. "I have my doubts, you understand," he growled. "The properties of an Emanator aren't so easily thwarted."

"Then it's a good thing that's precisely the kind of force we'll be entangling ourselves with before the end. But I'll let our boss explain the details. Do you have a name?"

A myriad of emotions played across the man's face and through his body language, all flickering through without an apparent aim before stopping suddenly as he looked Kafka in the eye once more.

"Blade."

Kafka's smile widened once more, a hinting of teeth and brimming with amusement as she held out a hand.

"Welcome to the team, Bladie."

A/N: I feel like I was cramming too much into this chapter, and parts of it still sound a bit rough reading over it again, but since I kept you all waiting this long, and with little progress on my front up until this point, I'm slamming this thing out into a contiguous chunk, come what may.

That aside, Blade's on the team, and we got one more chapter before we roll onto next set of missions, some of which get mentioned during Kafka's "trial" during the Jepella Rebellion trailer.

For funsies, if I were to ascribe an in-game element and Path for each of the other Stellaron Hunters, it would probably be as such:

Sike: Quantum, The Hunt

Exel: Physical, Destruction

Mona Lisa: Lightning, Preservation

Next chapter will have Caelus and Stelle get their Names. As well as the reason why Stelle showed up in the first place.

As per usual, if you have any questions, comments, theories, or concerns, let me know in a PM of review. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Until next time, and may you all have a happy Pi Day!

Winterman, out.