If you asked what defined the Aeon of the Hunt, people across the galaxy might give all sorts of answers.
But if you asked what its primary method of attack was, you'd get near-unanimous consensus:
Arrows.
Summoned by the power sealed within that silver bullet, the earth itself began to quake. Cracks split across the surface, and from those ruptures erupted countless emerald arrows.
Each shot forth from the planet's depths with tremendous force, all aiming toward the Antimatter Legion.
Sora sensed something off and turned to glance behind him—only to see a storm of arrows descending upon him.
Dozens—hundreds—of emerald-green shafts rained down from the sky, their gleaming points sharp enough to pierce armor and flesh alike.
From afar, it looked like a living reenactment of a Simulated Universe scenario: the Hunt's echo manifest.
"…Did the original send a cease-and-desist because someone cosplayed without permission?"
Sora muttered dryly.
The Aeon of the Hunt had apparently sent legal action to the Trampler: You are in violation of intellectual property rights. Please return the armor.
Who do you think you are, wearing the same thing I do?
What's that? You can't take it off? No worries—I'll help you take it off.
And so, the Hunt issued its retraction—in the form of arrows.
As long as you accepted the volley, the armor would come off.
…What happened after the armor came off? The Hunt wasn't particularly concerned.
But Sora knew full well—help from the Aeon of the Hunt never came without complications.
Most importantly: the Hunt did not distinguish friend from foe.
Even if you were on its side, if you stood in its line of fire, its arrows would fall on you just the same.
Back during the battle between the Xianzhou Luofu and the Aberrations of Abundance, the Luofu had called down the Hunt's divine strike.
From light-years away, that arrow annihilated the Abundance spawn.
But it also devastated the Luofu's forces. Many of their own people died in that same assault.
Because Aeons are Aeons. They are no longer bound by conventional morality, nor human emotion.
They answer your call—but the price of that answer is yours to bear.
And now, the full fury of the Hunt's rain was falling.
As dense as a monsoon, as relentless as a river current.
Sora pushed his senses to the limit, desperately trying to find a path through the incoming hail.
The glowing arrows streaked toward him, closing the distance in a blink—
But then something strange happened.
They missed.
Or rather—they veered.
Each arrow, as though guided by some invisible instinct, adjusted its trajectory to avoid him entirely.
One was even aimed straight at his chest—only to twist in midair and arc away.
Around him, the volley bent into a protective ring. An unnatural vacuum opened where he stood.
Not a single arrow touched him.
Sora quickly realized what was happening. There had to be a deliberate control behind this.
If I move now and mess it up, I might actually get shot…
So he stood still. Not moving an inch.
The safe zone ended at his feet—but beyond that, the land was being torn apart.
Thump, thump, THUMP!
Arrows slammed into the ground with heavy, percussive force.
The air echoed with the cries of the Antimatter Legion as their bodies were impaled, torn apart, vaporized.
The arrows pierced the Voidrangers clean through, pinned the Tramplers to the earth, and cleansed the battlefield with divine fury.
And in the sea of emerald light, one figure in deep violet stood—singular, unshaken.
The downpour didn't last long.
But its destruction? The kind of devastation Sora would've needed hours of brutal fighting to inflict.
All around him, antimatter particles rose like mist, shimmering as they faded.
Not just from the Legion's corpses—but from the arrows themselves.
Sora exhaled slowly.
No wonder she survived this long. You don't make it on this planet without serious firepower.
He pulled the Joker Memory from the Lost Driver, and his armor dissolved into fragments of violet light.
He looked back toward the camp.
Half the buildings were now rubble.
And yet—against all odds—people were there.
Robin. Ouja. And… the girl who had shocked him the most: the First Seat.
They were waving at him from afar, motioning for him to fall back and regroup.
Sora rejoined them, and together they set out toward the backup settlement.
Along the way, Robin filled him in on what had happened during the final phase of the battle.
His gaze drifted toward the child Ouja now carried on her back.
It was her—the First Seat he'd met earlier.
And now she slept beneath the moonlight like any ordinary child.
Sora couldn't reconcile it.
How could a child have unleashed that kind of power?
But Robin had no reason to lie. Which meant… it was real.
That unassuming little girl had channeled the Hunt's strength—perhaps not fully, but undeniably.
"Could she be… a Pathstrider too?" Sora wondered aloud.
Robin shook her head. "I've never felt any trace of the Hunt's path from her."
That ruled it out. She wasn't like the others—like Sora, or even Robin herself.
Still, it wasn't just the First Seat that puzzled Robin now.
She turned to Sora, eyes narrowing.
"Sora… wasn't your armor blue before? When did it turn purple?"
She hadn't forgotten the burst of violet light during that final transformation.
In her memory, Sora had only ever used that one blue suit of armor.
"Heh… that's a secret." Sora grinned, stashing the Joker Memory away.
He had zero intention of explaining his powers.
This world was too chaotic—and it was crawling with scientifically deranged weirdos.
If he valued his safety, secrecy was essential.
"Not even a hint?"
Secrets, after all, are magnets for curiosity. Robin was no exception.
"…I'll just say this. It was power entrusted to me by someone else."
With a quiet smile, Sora closed his hand around the Memory.
Robin looked at him—thoughtfully.
Like she understood.
Or maybe… didn't understand at all.
What exactly did she understand?
Well—that's a mystery for another day.