Sunrise came quicker than expected, and after spending a few hours on playing around with the shoulder artefact he’d gotten, Gaius had a rough understanding of it. From what he could tell, it was able to remould itself, within reason, to fit the requests of the user.

The possibilities weren’t endless, but shoulder armour really didn’t have much in the way of adjustments after a certain point. And since Gaius wasn’t one to look ostentatious, after a round of trying to look like an evil knight with spiked shoulders, he’d reverted his newfound artefact into something discreet.

Right now, two dull, round plates were sitting on his shoulder caps. He’d foregone the cape for now, although if he wanted it, he could have an entire cloak, complete with hood. But in the Conference of the Four, such an addition was likely to draw eyes, since it was a new addition.

Getting to his feet, Gaius headed towards the Octagon. Early birds were entitled to a generous breakfast, a secret that the Pinnacle hadn’t seen fit to share with the other nations.

He wasn’t alone at the buffet laid out. Picking up a plate, he mused at the sight of three trays full of bacon strips. Those things seemed to be everywhere; no matter where he went, they were always on the menu for some reason. Even in the East.

Of course, he was partial towards them, so the boy wasn’t complaining. Gaius was simply wondering about agriculture in Orb, as well as food processing. He hadn’t seen any such facilities in Seireiden or Elysium, although it was very possible that he wasn’t looking hard enough. He knew that the livestock of Orb was nearly the same as that of Earth’s; according to Orb: A History, Rahwei, the god of earth and animals, had created livestock with reference from the Cardinal Champions.

Picking up a small plate of sour cream and an unhealthy serving of bacon, Gaius found a seat and made himself comfortable. Dipping strip after strip into sour cream, the boy lost track of time, engrossed in enjoying the taste. Minutes flew by and his plate was soon emptied, but before he could foist another serving over, someone else had done it for him.

“Mind if I join you?” Xanadu asked, her white hair glinting gold in the rising sun’s light. Something about her had changed, even more than yesterday, and Gaius nodded, interested to find out. “These things are great.”

Gaius followed her fingers to look at a huge plate of chicken cutlets, and then wondered why there were such things for a breakfast menu. Chalking it down to the idiosyncrasies of Orb a heartbeat later, Gaius returned his attention to the Phantom Blade, who was definitely moving with a newfound sense of liberation.

“You look like someone who got out of indentured servitude,” Gaius observed out loud.

“That’s not a particularly wrong description,” Xanadu replied. “Ever since I gained awareness, me and my companions had been driven by a compulsion to strike down the Constellations and prevent the Demon Sovereign from ever emerging. To that end, we bore the emotions of countless despairing beings, their rage and sorrow fuelling our attacks.”

She gently pried apart a piece of chicken cutlet with her hands. “I hold no personal grudge with the Constellations, even though it definitely doesn’t seem that way.”

“Put that way, it doesn’t seem that you’re all that different from the Constellations,” Gaius said sadly. “Their wills were twisted. Their feelings false. Acting on behalf of a higher power.”

“They at least had a choice, no?” Xanadu replied, a small smile on her face.

Gaius didn’t know how to answer that, so he made do by stuffing a strip of bacon into his mouth instead. Indeed, a comparison between her and the Constellations were no different from comparing apples and oranges; both sides had circumstances unique to them and them only.

“What will you do now?” The boy asked, after a hearty swallow. “With your duties discharged, your raison d’etre no longer exists.”

She smiled. “Our powers have begun to dwindle. The Demigod that showed up to crush the last of the Constellations has passed; my other companions have already left to enjoy their final days. After all, to prevent the rise of a Demon Sovereign through a corruption of me and my fellows, our powers will dissipate once our task is complete.”

“Does that include death?” Gaius asked, sombre. “When will that happen?”

“Who knows?” Her smile was sad. “But we were false existences to begin with. Beings given blood and breath for the sake of a new future. That’s all. There’s no need to think too hard; there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s just that my final days will be a lonely one. Sprite has already vanished, and I’ll probably travel alone from now on.”

The boy regarded her lonely countenance thoughtfully, and then said, “Why don’t you live with us? I think that’s the least we can do for you. It’ll be good to make some memories, especially with people like Isabelle and Nakama.”

“I—”

“How about this; think of my request as me wanting to hire you. To serve as a bodyguard for Isabelle and Nakama,” Gaius added on. “After all, your powers are weakening. Sooner or later, you won’t be able to rob a chicken. If I’m your employer, you’ll be able to enjoy nice things without fear of running out of money.”

A hint of shock flashed through her eyes, and Gaius pressed home his advantage. After begui— persuading her through a little speech about the various problems her decreasing strength would have, he finally got her to act as the two girls’ bodyguard.

“Still, is that really okay?” Xanadu asked.

Gaius tilted his head. “What’s really okay?”

“Isn’t my presence going to disrupt your two-person world with that Isabelle girl?” she asked.

“Huh?” Gaius blinked. It took him a moment or so before he processed what she meant, and he replied, “I’m just a child. I’m what, thirteen? What are you expecting?”

“R-right. I kinda forgot. You’re so like an adult that I don’t really notice, after all.” She cupped her chin. “How odd.”

“I feel insulted, for some reason.” Gaius polished off the remaining bits, and then nodded. “It’s almost time for day two to start. Ready?”

“Definitely. I’ve received some interesting questions; quite a few of them came from the great gods.” She got up. “I should start preparing, right?”

Gaius nodded.

She smiled. “Thank you. For everything.”

Gaius watched her head into the Octagon, and stuffed his mouth with a few more strips of bacon, before following the others in.

This time, the Conference of the Four began with no grandstanding appearances; the great gods had walked in like everyone else. Even before Gaius slipped into his seat, they were already there, most of them exchanging words with the leaders of the other four continents. Curiously enough, Countess Reinford was actually at the central table, along with someone that Gaius instinctively pegged as a Demigod.

Was that Queen Hyperion, sovereign of the Western Holdings? Or was that Archduchess Gaia, the West’s Minister of War? Gaius wasn’t sure, but he at least recognised the royal blue hair that was apparently exclusive to the nobles from the West.

But still, the most surprising thing he was saw right now was the intriguing sight of the great gods talking to the Pinnacle. The radiant shadow that represented Thasvia was acting as an interpreter of sorts, and was apparently a friend of sorts to Pinnacle Kolya, which went against just about everything Gaius had heard. He wanted to listen in, but that was a wish that wouldn’t be fulfilled any time soon.

The seats began to fill up over the next few minutes, and the customary greetings followed after that. To Gaius, it looked like the emcee was trying to pioneer some etiquette for future Conferences of the Four that included the great gods, which was a great showing of optimism on the emcee’s part.

Without further ado, Xanadu took the spotlight once more.

“Great gods of Orb, luminaries of the four continents, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of questions regarding this future I came from,” she began. “I believe I should start off with my origins first, and then point out some qualifiers.”

She started to speak in earnest. Her words touched on everything she mentioned beforehand — her origins, Aldnath’s and Hereward’s departure from Orb, the final gambit the gods of the true Orb used — Gaius had heard everything before, and he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the Phantom Blade wasn’t elaborating as much as she did back in the North.

If Oracle Galina and Pinnacle Kolya noticed that, they didn’t show it on their faces either. They listened quietly as Xanadu continued to speak, but virtually everyone else were reacting in shock, one way or another. Murmurs would break out occasionally, only to be silenced moments later whenever Xanadu gazed pointedly at the speakers.

After setting off a whole bunch of bombshells in a row, she finally ended her explanation. Her face looked even more relaxed now, somehow, but she was the only one who had such an expression.

“This might sound like something right out of fantasy,” Pinnacle Kolya said, “but do remember that to us otherworlders, the world of Orb and the principles that guide it are equally fantastical. And of course, our ideas are equally fantastical to you guys. Do try to keep an open mind, as ridiculous as it might sound.”

“Sound advice,” said the blue-haired woman beside Countess Reinford. “Pinnacle, may I?”

“Please, do go ahead, Queen Hyperion.” Pinnacle Kolya inclined his head slightly.

“Her words are somewhat corroborated with phenomena unique to my Western Holdings,” said Queen Hyperion. “This…extra-chronological entity she speaks of shares has multiple characteristics in common with the object of my military’s suppression.”

She turned to face Xanadu next, but when she spoke next, no one could hear her, save for the people at the central table. Xanadu narrowed her eyes in what looked like contemplation, and then answered. Queen Hyperion nodded, and turned to face the front.

“I wonder what she asked,” Gaius muttered.

He wasn’t alone in wondering about this, but since they weren’t making this part public, it was probably in light of the fact that the Conference of the Four was broadcast live to the entire Five Lands. Making a mental note to ask Xanadu later, the boy turned his attention back to Xanadu, who was now beginning to answer some questions she picked out.

She unfurled a piece of paper, and began to read off it. “The first question I’ll handle is this: what happened to the Demon God?”

The crowd rippled, and even the radiant shadows of the great gods regarded Xanadu with extreme interest. Caught off-guard by a few hundred expectant glances, she cleared her throat and said, “I only know that by the time my progenitors were forced to such measures, the great gods of Orb no longer existed, other than the two who fled. The Demon God was probably swallowed too, like his peers. Such was the strength of the Demon Sovereign at that time.”

A low, unpleasant drone filled the chamber, settling down only when Xanadu began to address the second question. “Why was the murder of the Lifespring necessary?”

“There wasn’t enough time,” she replied. “Without a sacrifice to the Great Divide, finishing off all the Constellations and cautioning the great gods of Orb to not grant their divine blessing to anyone would be impossible. In fact, if the Great Divide hadn’t been strengthened, the remaining Constellations would be under heavy protection for the remaining six months.”

She nodded at the Human God, who glanced back at her evenly, and then returned to field the next question. “The next one: does the act of simply going back alter the future? I actually have no idea on that, but the Dragon of Time is here.”

The hall froze up for a moment, and Aldnath’s radiant shadow turned towards Xanadu. For some reason, Gaius could almost see a “Are you kidding me?!” expression on its featureless face, but the moment was broken by Thasvia’s laughter.

“Sweetie, you really know how to surprise people,” said the Breath-Maker. “You must be the first person in the whole of Orb to redirect a question to a great god.”

The chamber burst into laughter, only to clam up when a series of low, quiet roars filled the air. The Breath-Maker listened intently, and then said, “Here’s Aldnath’s reply. Normally, with him around, changes to history is impossible. However, if the Phantom Blade’s words are true, they have become an existence that transcends time itself. Linear time, to them, is a dot. In such a state, it is possible to alter Orb’s history, even in the periods where the Eternal Cadence is present.”

“Oh, and no one will notice,” she added on. “Even Aldnath himself. As a price, however, such a being will soon degenerate. It will either disperse over time, or devolve into a being of chaos, doomed to roam limbo for all eternity.”

Gaius sneaked a glance at Xanadu, whose face was suddenly pale. She sat down abruptly, and Pinnacle Kolya thanked the Breath-Maker and the Eternal Cadence in her stead.

“Xanadu is unable to field any more questions,” said Kolya. “We’ll therefore address our next topic, adapting a wartime economy for the Five Lands. With me today is my Minister of Economy, and…”

He began to rattle off, but Gaius soon zoned out, his interest only on Xanadu.