Star Rail： Chant of the Terminal Paradise

The Radiance drifted like an exhausted comet through the eternal black velvet of space. Beyond the viewport, cold stars hung like frozen tears, distant and silent. Inside the bridge, Ester leaned against the chill alloy bulkhead and slowly slid to the floor.

His chest plate lay discarded nearby, its surface reflecting dim emergency lights. His undershirt clung to sweat-dampened skin, outlining tense muscle beneath, each breath labored and heavy. He tilted his head back against the unyielding metal, the usual sharpness in his ice-blue eyes dulled by profound exhaustion and a lingering trace of shock – a coastline ravaged by a passing storm.

Memories seared his nerves like brands: the life-or-death struggle with a fallen brother, the calculated dance with Herta aboard the space station, the suffocating, puppet-string fight against Sam in the Shattered Star Abyss... Deeper still was the pain from the forced information deluge: bloody fragments of the Knights' collapse flashing before his eyes, cold statistics charting the erosion of faith, the chilling precognition of Sam's revealed "Script"... They coiled like spectral thorns around his thoughts, bringing waves of dull, persistent agony.

He raised a slightly trembling hand, knuckles white from strain, pressing hard against his temples to banish the phantoms. A long, heavy sigh echoed in the bridge, loud against the low thrum of the engines.

Ester forced himself out of the morass of near-collapse. Weariness could erode the body, but not shatter the will, especially when the vow to protect burned like an ember in his core. He had to think. He had to find the needle piercing the tangled skein of clues.

Summoning reserves like a sailor steadying the helm in a tempest, he began to sift through every gathered shard.

Lucerius Star held a unique place in his heart. It resonated like a vast chamber with the power of Beauty– the awe-inspiring spectacle of the twin moons, the elusive, shrouded echo of Idrila's fragmented essence slumbering deep within, the mysterious, Aeon-touched origin of Stellanyss. Yet, the chaotic, destructive power of the Stellaron seeped like a shadow beneath it, warping the balance, the hidden peril within Stellanyss a constant Damoclean threat. These two opposing primal forces intertwined, clashed, coexisted on Lucerius in a delicate, precarious equilibrium, one misstep from catastrophe.

Sam's icy pronouncements, Caelus's fevered ramblings laced with terror and zeal, all pointed to the same core: a "New God" named Saelum, destined to be born at the singular nexus where **Beauty** and the Stellaron interacted, collided, perhaps even fused. Saelum would become the new Aeon of Beauty.

This prophecy's heart was inextricably tied to Lucerius's uniqueness, thrusting the life quietly growing within Luna into the eye of the storm.

His thoughts drifted inevitably to Lucerius's ancient stellar prophecies and the deep altar. The mural's figure of the Stellar Knight, blurred yet exalted, seemed intrinsically linked to guarding a "new beginning." The archaic inscription carved deep into the stone, its characters heavy with time, surfaced clearly in his weary mind: "Dawn is the tombstone of Night, and I am the gravekeeper."

The gravekeeper… Guarding merely the passing of the old era? Or… the fragile dawn breaking through endless night? The Stellar Knight… Was it a chosen individual, or a destined role – the guardian of fragile light, the burier of long darkness, in the perilous gap between an Aeon's fall and rebirth?

Countless threads, like stars on a chart, were drawn by an unseen gravity, converging unerringly on one point: Luna, and the life within her yet to be born.

"Gravekeeper… Dawn…" Ester murmured the words, a flicker of understanding crossing his eyes before being swallowed by deeper solemnity. Perhaps the Stellar Knight wasn't a specific hero, but a crushing responsibility – the fate to guard that fragile light and bury the long night within the treacherous chasm of an old god's fall and a new god's birth.

As the tide of chaotic thoughts receded, another concern surfaced. He activated an encrypted comm channel to Herta Space Station.

"Station Master Herta." His voice held a barely perceptible rasp.

"Captain Ester?" Herta's voice responded, sharp enough to catch the strain. "You sound… weary? Trouble?"

"Negligible. A skirmish concluded. Lyca's status?"

"Good news!" Herta's tone brightened noticeably. "Lieutenant Lyca's recovery exceeds projections. Neural reintegration is flawless, cellular regeneration has entered stable consolidation. While full combat readiness requires rehab and observation, his vitals are completely stable. Arlan practically 'detours' past Medical daily. Still stone-faced, rarely speaks, but that look? Impossible to miss his concern."

Relief washed over Ester, a warm current dispelling some of the inner chill. Lyca was safe. "That is… the best news. Herta, Arlan, everyone at the Station… thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Captain. Oh," Herta added, "Madam Herta seems utterly enthralled by some new 'ultimate puzzle.' Holed up in her Collection Room, supposedly analyzing a critical energy matrix. Even her puppet barely 'patrols' anymore."

"Let her research undisturbed. Convey my regards." Ester ended the call.

Lyca's safety lifted a weight. Simultaneously, a plan formed. Since Herta was occupied… He studied the star chart, fingers tracing the controls. "Set course: Herta Space Station. Objective: Brief resupply stop."

Days later, the Radiance merged once more with the hive-like lights of the Station's port. Ester wasted no time, heading straight for Sector B-7 Medical.

Through the observation window, Lyca lay bathed in the soft light of the regeneration pod, face pale but breathing steady. His eyes lit up seeing Ester, filled with relief and deep remorse.

"Captain… I—"

"Survival is victory enough, Lyca," Ester's voice, gentle yet firm, carried clearly. "Rest. Rebuild your strength. The Knights need your sword. I need your shield. The road ahead is long." He turned, offering a solemn nod of thanks to the medical team.

Assured of Lyca's stability, Ester didn't disturb the Herta puppet likely engrossed in critical calculations. He merged into the Station's bustling currents, heading for the vibrant commercial hub and efficient logistics center.

Under soft lighting, he paused. Thinking of Toby's star-bright, ever-curious eyes, he selected several vibrant, interactive holographic picture books: one exploring cosmic mysteries, another recounting ancient heroes, a third explaining basic science principles. For the quiet Li Na, he chose packets of popular, subtly sweet botanical gummies, neatly bagged, and a delicate hairpin.

His gaze caught on an instrument. Its body, crafted from distant Luminwood and acoustic alloy, flowed with elegant lines like frozen moonlight. He plucked a string; its pure, resonant tone flowed like a mountain spring. He added a beginner's guide and music sheets filled with serene melodies to the basket.

He also acquired a portable fetal monitor and prenatal supplements, their packaging simple and practical. For Luna.

The Agri-tech zone smelled of soil and new growth. Ester produced a datapad displaying Lucerius's soil composition, light cycles, and water reports. With an eager technician's help, he carefully selected several varieties of high-yield, cold-resistant seeds, robust and adapted to the planet's unique energy signature – plump kernels holding life's promise. Efficient organic fertilizers exuded a faint herbal scent. Anticipating Lucerius's sudden storms, he chose a compact but powerful environmental regulator for localized climate control.

In the Equipment Sector's cold light, a training knight's sword caught his eye. A space station forge replica, its blade lightweight yet strong alloy, design clean and classic, balance perfect, grip wrapped in non-slip leather. He hefted it; the feel was excellent. Perfect for Kalon to build his foundation.

Lastly, he gathered durable household goods, basic medicines, and new multi-purpose medkits. He thought of Granny Moon's drying herbs, Anvil's focused hammering as he repaired tools. Practical things they needed.

The Radiance's cargo hold filled, air mingling with the scent of new books, earthy seeds, instrument wood, and cold metal. The ship departed again, engines humming purposefully towards the growing blue sphere of Lucerius Star.

As the familiar azure curve filled the viewport, the enigma of the "Twin Moons" resurged. He altered the landing plan.

"Activate Tracker Alpha deep-space scan array. Assume orbit around Lucerius Star. Priority scan: Designated Gamma-7, Delta-3 companion bodies. Maximize energy scan resolution." Ester commanded.

Alone on the observation deck, starlight reflecting off his focused profile, he closed his eyes. He drew a deep breath, extending his internal flow of Beauty energy like the most delicate probe, reaching cautiously, slowly towards the planets responsible for the spectacle. His consciousness merged with the void, utterly concentrated.

Time flowed in silent perception. Ester became stardust, only the sweat beading his temples and a deepening frown betraying his intense focus.

Suddenly, his body jolted. His eyes snapped open, ice-blue pupils contracting violently, filled with pure, unadulterated horror.

Within his perception, the cores of those seemingly ordinary planets shed their mantle of rock and magma, revealing a soul-chilling truth.

At their very hearts lay not molten stellar matter, but two vast, ocean-like entities of energy – pure as new snow, radiating sacred, primordial power.

Yet, they were not free. They were imprisoned within layers of ancient, immensely potent seals. The resonance was unmistakable – warm, familiar, echoing the power within him and the distant Aegis of Poralgis. These were the scattered fragments of Idrila, the Aeon of Beauty!

"Here… Sealed… So utterly…" Ester's voice trembled. This explained his prior blindness. The sealing power was unimaginably profound, a near-perfect prison suppressing the fragments' inherent, boundless aura.

And upon that seemingly immutable, ancient barrier… there was a flaw. An infinitesimal, newly formed fissure, like a hairline crack in glass.

The moment of its birth…

"The Stellar Tear Ceremony… Luna's resonance." Ester understood instantly. Luna's pure life force and profound wish for the future, like a pebble dropped into still water, had inadvertently vibrated against the seal's most precise mechanism. It briefly roused the slumbering fragments, their power projecting onto the heavens, creating the awe-inspiring "Twin Moons" spectacle.

This, once more, irrefutably revealed Luna's deep, mysterious, even primordial

connection to the power of Beauty.

Sam's machine-cold words, Caelus's raving prophecies, flooded back like an icy tide: *"New God Saelum… Beauty and Stellaron interacting… the new Aeon of Beauty…"*

The ancient legend of the Stellar Knight, the gravekeeper's poignant vow… All clues, guided by an invisible hand of fate, locked inexorably onto the same focal point – the life growing within Luna.

Shock, dread, the crushing weight of destiny, and an inexplicable awe twisted into a complex vortex within Ester. He stood silent at the observation window, a statue carved from tension, his deep gaze piercing the viewport, fixed on the nearing blue world holding so many secrets and possibilities.

After a long moment, he drew a breath, his voice low and resolute. "Prepare for landing."

The Radiance settled smoothly onto the sun-warmed clearing outside the village. As Ester pushed open the heavy hatch, stepping onto the soft, grass-and-earth scented ground, he was met by a wave of warm, vibrant noise.

"Mr. Ester! Sir Knight is back!" Toby's sharp eyes spotted him first, his shout pure joy as he waved from the field's edge.

Children scattered like colorful birds – from the schoolhouse windows, from behind haystacks – running with laughter and a chorus of questions, instantly surrounding Ester. Quiet Li Na stood slightly apart, a book still in hand, smiling shyly, eyes shining.

Old Chief leaned on his polished walking stick, face crinkled in a wide smile. "Welcome back, Mr. Ester! We've been waiting!"

Kalon rubbed his hands excitedly, dark face flushed, eyes fixed eagerly on the open cargo bay. Anvil paused mid-strike on a half-mended hoe, wiping sweat, nodding firmly at Ester with a grateful, simple grin. Granny Moon stood by her herb shop door, basket on arm, watching with warm, kind eyes.

Luna stood slightly behind the crowd, one hand resting gently on her rounded belly. Afternoon sun dappled through leaves, casting shifting light on her, serene and beautiful, a world unto herself. She met Ester's gaze with a gentle, reassuring smile, like spring touching water.

Wrapped in this pure, earthy warmth, the shadows in Ester's heart seemed to lighten. A gentle smile touched his lips as he calmed the excited children and opened the cargo bay doors.

"Brought some things. Hope they suit."

The bay opened. Children gasped, eyes wide at colorful books and sweet-smelling gummies, erupting in cheers. Toby darted forward like a monkey, flipping open a star atlas with an awed "Wow!" Li Na carefully lifted a model spaceport building set, tracing its smooth edges with fascinated satisfaction.

When Ester presented the box holding the Luminwood instrument and medical equipment to Luna, her hand flew to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. "Mr. Ester… this… it's too much! This instrument…" She opened the box, fingers brushing the smooth, warm wood, tracing its lines and grain. A fingertip brushed a string, releasing a pure, trembling note. "...It's beautiful. Like moonlight." She hugged the box as if cradling a precious dream.

Kalon flushed crimson when Ester handed him the training sword. He took it with trembling, reverent hands, fingers tracing the leather-wrapped hilt and sturdy scabbard, feeling its perfect weight and balance. He snapped upright, executing the most earnest, if clumsy, knight's salute he could muster, voice thick with emotion. "Th-thank you, Captain! I… I will train hard! I won't… won't let you or this sword down!" Every word was a vow.

Old Chief and Anvil examined the sturdy seed bags labeled with high-yield crop names, the earthy-smelling organic fertilizer, and the compact environmental regulator. The Chief's calloused hands trembled slightly as he lifted a seed bag, cradling it like heavy hope, eyes alight with a long-dormant hunger for harvest. "Good… good seeds! Strong, full of life… this year's fields… there's hope." Anvil nodded vigorously beside him, grinning broadly.

Other villagers gathered, offering simple words and heartfelt smiles of thanks.

A rare ease and joy filled the village clearing. Children sat or sprawled, engrossed in new books, Toby excitedly pointing at star charts. Li Na sat quietly by a tree root, assembling her model port. Kalon practiced basic stances diligently in a nearby space, sweat dripping unnoticed. Old Chief and Anvil huddled over seed bags, discussing planting plans and the regulator's placement. Luna sat on a flat stone, the instrument on her lap, fingers tentatively plucking strings. A few clear, untuned notes drifted out, drawing curious glances from the children.

Watching this peaceful, vibrant scene, a quiet warmth flowed through Ester. This simple, everyday life was the treasure he would give everything to protect.

The western sky blazed with warm oranges and purples as the vast sun sank behind distant mountains. A bonfire crackled in the village center, flames licking the deepening twilight, wood popping, the scent of simple food mingling with woodsmoke and earth. Villagers gathered around the fire in small groups, sharing meals, talking softly of crops and home.

Ester sat on a stump beside Luna, gazing into the flames, savoring the hard-won peace.

In this tranquil moment, filled only by the fire's crackle and distant insects, Luna turned her head. The firelight danced in her clear eyes, her face radiant with a mix of happiness, solemnity, and maternal glow – a secret cherished and ready to be shared. Her voice was soft as a breeze through grass:

"Oh, Mr. Ester… there's something we wanted to tell you."

Ester pulled his gaze from the fire's dance, looking at her profile softened by the light. "Hmm? What is it?" A faint premonition stirred within him.

Luna's hand rested with gentle strength on her rounded abdomen, a soothing caress for the life within. Her voice was clear, soft, yet filled with absolute certainty and deep longing, like the purest star igniting in the night sky:

"Old Chief, Granny Moon, everyone… we talked for so long. Looked through many books, thought of so many names… Finally, we chose a name for this little one. We wanted to know… if you like it, Mr. Ester."

Ester's heart, beating in time with the fire's warm crackle, seemed to stutter. A powerful surge of emotion seized him – the crushing weight of destiny intertwined with a strange sense of inevitability.

Luna's smile in the firelight was serene and sacred. She looked down at her belly, as if gazing upon the whole world, and softly announced:

"Saelum. We've decided… to call him Saelum."