The Play Ends, But the Story Continues

"A bomb? A Melta Bomb?!"

Herod's gaze swept the surroundings. His first thought was no longer why Raul could have gotten his hands on a bomb, or why it had suddenly appeared in his grasp at this moment.

These trivial details were insignificant.

All he wanted now was to see that damned Kasgar reduced to nothing but ash and bone!

And this bomb was the only means to take him down with him!

"Good!"

His eyes were sinister and vile, his plan reckless and venomous.

A purple Radiance flickered; Herod's gaze was filled with the madness stoked by jealousy.

At this moment, everyone's focus was on the center of the stage. No one paid any mind to the dirty dealings in their hands just now.

Perfect time to strike!

Shoving through the crowd, Herod charged forward; squeezing to the front of the stage, he yanked the pin in that instant!

"Wha—"

In that split second, Fulgrim, immersed in the crowd's admiration, finally noticed Herod's last-ditch effort.

She wanted to stop him.

But unfortunately, it was too little, too late.

Even if she herself feared nothing, the workers filling the hall and Kasgar beside her could not escape.

In that critical moment, she pushed her speed to its absolute limit, turning her back to the explosive and wrapping Kasgar in her embrace.

The once-chaotic world fell silent in that instant.

Boom.

The explosion thundered through the crowded plaza.

The bomb detonated as expected.

At such close range, even with a Primarch's protection, Kasgar could not escape his doomed fate.

Would it?

Would this soon-to-be-married couple, before they could soar like phoenixes, be torn apart once more?

Would Fulgrim be left atop the towers of Chemos, feasting on eternal solitude?

And would it be—

That only the deepest, most bitter tragedy could leave an unforgettable, bone-deep impression?

—No!

The story would not end so hastily!

The bomb had already gone off, but aside from a few startled cries behind her, she felt none of the expected shockwave.

Could it be—?

When she turned to look, where was any explosion?

Instead, ceremonial cannons fired, and ribbons burst forth!

Colorful streams of silk fluttered down, adorning the formalwear of everyone present.

Countless shimmering ribbons, along with the thrill of survival, instantly flooded the entire upper fortress.

"This—this is impossible!"

And there stood Herod, frozen in the middle of the scene, staring at the party popper blooming in his hand.

"Hahahahaha!"

After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd burst into laughter, mocking the crestfallen clown to their hearts' content.

So this was all a scheme by Fulgrim and Kasgar!

They had turned the despicable, selfish noble's weapon into a tool to add harmony to their celebration!

Killing the man and breaking his spirit—what deeper humiliation could there be?

Looking at the tightly embracing couple on stage and the ashen-faced saboteur, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers!

"Good!"

"Under the leadership of Fulgrim and Kasgar, we will all find redemption!"

But in that moment no one noticed, Raul, the lackey who had been at Herod's side, vanished without a trace.

"Mmph!"

Kasgar struggled, breaking free from Fulgrim's chest before she could even come back to her senses.

If he hadn't died in the explosion but had been smothered to death here, it would have turned into an absurd comedy.

"Was this your plan?"

"Using fake bombs to trick Herod, then making his revenge a joke, his retaliation reduced to that of a jester?"

Fulgrim asked in disbelief.

Even in her own self-proclaimed perfect plan, she hadn't thought to add such a twist as the climactic finale to push the atmosphere to its peak.

It seemed Kasgar could bring far more surprises than she had imagined.

"I don't know."

Kasgar was equally filled with confusion.

He had never possessed such skill at pulling the wool over everyone's eyes, let alone the ability to craft a firecracker into a perfect replica of Melt-Explosive Charges under such scarce conditions.

At that moment, he could only feel a foreign object clutched in his hand.

—It was a crumpled jester mask, appearing in his palm without him knowing when.

On it was a line of elegant, small script, written lightly and artistically:

My brother, my friend. Remember this: only laughter can cure the thirsting lust poison.

The revelry lasted a long time.

The laughing crowd felt the world's colors for the first time.

Paintings from noble estates, songs from ancient legends, flowers from the upper greenhouses—a dazzling array.

They flew into the eyes of ordinary folk amid the crowd's unending gasps of wonder.

Like a bird long caged finally breaking free, the people laughed freely, indulged without restraint.

The people of Chemos had endured far too long just to survive.

After finishing the trial of Herod and his men, they sat around the square, begging Fulgrim to explain the meaning of her earlier proposal gesture.

Yes, love. That was love.

But what was love?

Before this, when did these people have time to care, to cherish another?

Seeing the bewildered crowd, Fulgrim, as if she had been waiting for this question all along, raised her left hand.

More precisely, the Centaur gold ring on that hand.

"That's right, this Centaur gold ring."

"When we first met, he was still with the Sherlock family."

"Sis! I'm begging you, don't—"

"Sorry, Kasgar. Kasgar's a bit shy, how adorable. Where was I?"

Fulgrim let out a chuckle, her tone brimming with pride.

"Oh right, he looked at me and said solemnly: 'Wherever you gallop, I will follow at your side.'"

So that was the Centaur gold ring, that was the meaning of love.

After hearing Fulgrim's vivid tale, the crowd exchanged glances.

What a splendid and romantic story.

In their hearts, the meaning of the Centaur gold ring had changed drastically from before.

So this world still allowed love to exist.

What about us?

Could we be the same?

After listening to Fulgrim's story, many impatient souls grabbed "Centaur rings" made of grass or screws and offered them to one another.

Some succeeded, some failed.

The successful ones raised their heads in excitement, as if announcing their happiness to the world; the failed ones could only shake their heads with bitter smiles and leave in regret.

Laughter and curses alike became a story worth telling.

Whether success or failure, it was better than the numbness of not knowing why one lived.

For the first time, they understood the stars and themselves beneath them.

For the first time, they felt they were living in the world.

The people of Chemos still had much to learn.

But thankfully, they had time to reshape this world bit by bit.

The revelry ended, and everyone had gone home.

Soon, Karax Fortress would redistribute housing, ensuring that every Karaxian would have their own dwelling in the future.

A bright future awaited everyone.

As for now, Fulgrim's hand remained tightly clasped around Kasgar's, refusing to let go for even a moment.

Though the bomb hadn't exploded, a lingering fear seemed to haunt her heart.

"Kasgar."

Seeing that the square was now empty of others, she turned and leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"What is it?"

"Praise me."

Here we go again.

But there was no helping it—this was just Fulgrim's nature.

A Primarch forever chasing perfection, forever craving recognition.

Even for a mere Karax Fortress, she wanted every soul within to submit from the heart, to love and revere her as their flawless sovereign.

If the liberation of Karax couldn't be executed to the highest standard, then it still wasn't perfect.

This was the greatest strength of Fulgrim and the Third Legion, and likewise the primary reason for their future descent into corruption.

"Everyone was praising that flawless performance today. I doubt I need to add more."

"Mm, but I only want to hear it from you."

"When that bomb was about to go off, I was so scared."

Kasgar felt her nuzzle against his shoulder.

"...Please."

"Praise me."

Kasgar could only look helplessly at the soft, clingy woman leaning on him.

Damn it.

How could she be this adorable?

"Ah! Great Fulgrim!"

"Your performance lingers in the air, your works flow like poetry; even the most learned playwright could not match your brilliance."

"Mm."

She hummed softly.

"Your wisdom sees through the finest details, your swordsmanship is otherworldly; under your leadership, the people of Chemos will never fall into stale conventions."

"Mm... more, praise me more."

Baby, you're a baby who's really good at performing opera, has a sharp mind, is full of humanity, and is incredibly, incredibly strong in battle.

Exhausting every ounce of his vocabulary to scrape together words of praise, Kasgar felt her grip tighten on his hand.

He sensed her lingering fear.

Perhaps that unexploded bomb had served as a harsh wake-up call for Fulgrim, lost in her vanity.

Of course, not just for Fulgrim.

Kasgar also felt self-reproach.

When it came to crises, his involvement was far too inadequate.

Unlike Fulgrim.

His strength was still far from matching his dreams.

He had to work harder, so much harder.

"New buds sprout, green returns to the homeland;"

"Treachery unveiled, the enemy's schemes thwarted."

Holding the younger woman in his arms, Kasgar still felt uneasy:

The recapture of Karax Fortress was complete, the splendid opera nearing its finale.

Yet the story would not end here.

Humming a light tune, a tall, thin clown in ridiculous garb walked beneath the wind and sand outside the city.

"The golden-purple radiance returns to the world, the bell of truth rings out once more."

"A new leader brims with ambition, a new ideal revisits the old capital."

"The golden phoenix rises from sacred flame, the purple phoenix descends from water."

"Will they repeat the mistakes of the past? Can they shatter the shackles of the cycle?"

"The great waves of time roar on as ever, Chemos's twilight knows no beginning or end."

His cheerful steps slowed to a halt. He lifted his head slightly, as if pondering how to compose the final verse for this performance's grand finale.

"..."

"Ah."

At last, at the very end.

A single sigh, echoing in the wind.

The play "Karax"

Curtain falls.