"I've delivered the music box, old man."
A man dressed like a bartender crouched beside the white-haired elder.
He gently held the old man's hand—
Careful not to disturb the memory bubble resting within it.
"That message… only the Nameless who walk the Path of Trailblaze will be able to see it."
"…But you won't live to see it."
There was nostalgia in his eyes—
But no sorrow.
Because his master—
Was right here.
No matter what—
He would stay.
Until the very end.
Gallagher quietly held the old man's hand.
As a Fictionologist—
Even his body was fabricated.
Once his task was complete—
He would vanish.
Just like the others.
Before closing his eyes—
The old man had only one wish:
To see the Astral Express return.
The Nameless' dream—
Had once begun to take shape.
But now—
Someone had twisted it.
Turned this dreamland into something else entirely.
Gallagher looked down at the wrinkled card in his hand.
A golden ticket.
Marked with the Astral Express emblem.
It was said—
The conductor himself had given it to him.
The Express never refused anyone who wished to board.
Nor anyone who chose to leave.
And the old man—
Had once stepped off the train,
Alongside two others.
He devoted his entire life—
To this dream world.
For Penacony's freedom.
For its future.
And now—
His life, by his own words…
Had been "not bad."
But Gallagher didn't agree.
His master—
Was no ordinary man.
A Nameless.
A pioneer.
The father of Penacony.
The Watchmaker.
That legacy—
That final message—
He could only hope the new Nameless would understand.
Gallagher carefully smoothed out the creases in the golden ticket.
Then looked at the old man again.
Mikhail.
Nameless.
Trailblazer.
Watchmaker.
Others might not know what he had endured—
But Gallagher did.
He had been there—
Through it all.
And now—
He would carry on his master's will.
Suddenly—
His expression changed.
A foreign presence.
Someone had entered this silent garden.
A black-haired young man approached slowly.
A faint smile on his face.
"…Who are you?"
"I've never seen you in the Reef of Flowing Dreams."
Gallagher stood immediately—
Eyes sharp with vigilance.
The man before him—
Carried immense power.
But no hostility.
"Gallagher."
"…And—"
The young man's gaze shifted to the old figure.
"Mikhail."
That was right.
The man before him—
Was the legendary Watchmaker.
And Gallagher—
His most loyal companion.
With a single glance—
Evan saw through him.
A fabricated existence.
Unable to enter reality.
On the surface—
A member of the Hound Family.
In truth—
The one who sent the invitation.
A Fictionologist.
A hound—
Loyal to the very end.
"Who are you?" Gallagher asked again.
Imaginary energy surged faintly around him.
If Evan took another step—
He would strike.
"Me?"
Evan smiled lightly.
"A hunter."
"One who pursues the ultimate price."
"There's prey here that I need."
"So I came."
He stepped forward.
Flames flickered around Gallagher.
"…But I also have another identity."
"What is it?"
"A Nameless."
"From the Astral Express."
"Evan."
"…!"
A Nameless?!
Gallagher froze.
He had seen traces—
But could never fully grasp this man's identity.
"…We came too late."
Evan said softly.
"Mikhail-senior… he…"
He took out a ticket.
A proof of identity.
The Astral Express issued two kinds of tickets:
GoldBlue
The one in Evan's hand—
Was his.
Given by Pom-Pom.
"…He's gone."
Gallagher confirmed quietly.
"There was regret."
"But no regret in his heart."
Evan stepped closer.
And then—
He saw it.
A golden treasure chest.
Right before him.
The old man lay peacefully in his chair—
Holding an empty memory bubble.
Even Evan—
Felt something stir in his chest.
He had come here—
For the chest.
But now—
His mood had changed.
He sat down.
Leaning against Mikhail.
And looked at Gallagher.
"…Can you tell me his story?"
Gallagher paused.
Then laughed bitterly.
After all these years—
Someone finally asked.
Evan already knew the story—
From the game.
But hearing it—
From someone who lived it—
Was different.
And so—
Gallagher began.
Time in dreams—
Could stretch endlessly.
Or pass in an instant.
Mikhail.
Tiernan.
And another companion.
They had stepped off the train together—
And devoted their lives to building Penacony.
In the sea of memoria—
They let imagination run free.
They gave everything—
For that dream.
But in the end—
One died.
One disappeared.
Only Mikhail remained.
And those who once shared his dream—
Betrayed it.
They embraced Order.
The dream had changed.
The paradise he envisioned—
Was no more.
And Mikhail—
Was too old.
Too tired—
To fight back.
So in the end—
He left.
With regret.
Silence fell.
Evan looked at him.
Then—
Reached out.
And took the golden chest.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! Penacony — Reef of Flowing Dreams Chest obtained]
[Open?]
Open.
He closed his eyes.
Golden light—
Burst forth.
Gallagher's pupils shrank.
"That…!"
That light—
The Will of Trailblaze.
It crossed time.
Space.
And returned—
To this place.
[Congratulations, Host!]
[You have obtained: Will of Trailblaze]
[It should not fade, nor be buried]
[Let its light shine across the stars once more]
Penacony — Morning Dew — Dewlight Pavilion
Sunday had just welcomed his sister back.
He had planned a grand reception—
But Robin declined.
So he let it go.
But then—
Bad news arrived.
Robin's voice—
Had problems.
At a time like this—
When the Harmony Festival was about to begin—
This was a disaster.
For the event.
And for his plan.
Then—
A golden light descended from the sky.
Even here—
It could be felt.
A crow appeared beside Sunday.
"Mr. Gopher Wood… this is—?"
The crow adjusted its voice—
Before speaking.
"No need to worry."
"It's merely the afterglow of Trailblaze."
"The Aeon is gone."
"The Watchmaker's call will not be answered."
"Your preparations?"
Sunday nodded.
"Everything is ready."
"This Harmony Festival…"
"Will awaken the descent of the divine."
"For our dream."
"…For our dream."
"My child."
"I have high hopes for you."
"I hear Robin has returned…"
At the mention of her—
Sunday froze.
A chill ran down his spine.
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