The group walked through the slightly solemn corridor of Qliphoth Fort and arrived before the Supreme Guardian's office.
Bronya took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy, carved wooden door.
The scene inside made everyone stop in their tracks, their expressions shifting in surprise.
Behind the ornate desk that symbolized the highest power in Belobog, in the high-backed chair reserved for the Supreme Guardian, [Cocolia] was "slumped" in a posture that was extremely ungraceful, if not entirely drained of soul—
Her body had completely slid down, her head tilted back against the chair, golden hair disheveled and draped over the back. One arm hung limply off the armrest, while the other hand covered her forehead.
Her eyes were unfocused, staring at the ceiling decorated with the mark of Preservation. Her entire being radiated a strong aura of "being sucked dry by life" and "who am I, where am I."
This image formed a stark contrast to the stiff posture of the Silvermane Guards outside the door and the solemn atmosphere of the castle.
"Mo... Mother?"
Bronya called out hesitantly, wondering if she had opened the wrong door, or if her mother had been possessed by something strange (though in a sense, she was).
"Ah... you're here..."
[Cocolia] responded weakly, too lazy to even move her neck. She only shifted her eyes slightly toward the door, her voice drifting as if from far away.
"Being tortured by this mess... feels like my body has been hollowed out..."
"Mess?"
Stella poked his head out from behind Bronya, looking at the large desk.
Good heavens! The desk was piled high with documents, almost obscuring [Cocolia]'s slumped figure.
Several scattered files had slid onto the floor, densely covered in writing.
[Cocolia] used her dangling hand to point casually at the "mountain" on the table, listing them off like a menu in a flat but despairing tone:
"Look, this stack is a joint protest and heartfelt appeal from seventeen nobles regarding the 'restoration of hunting and art salon funding,' accompanied by thirty-six pages arguing the importance of culture in resisting the Eternal Freeze—simply put, they want money."
"This pile is an urgent report from the frontline quartermaster. The shells of new Abnormalities have hardened, conventional ammunition consumption has surged, stocks are running low, and they are requesting emergency allocations, along with sketches of three potentially more effective warhead designs—they want money, materials, and technology."
"Over here, the cry-poor document from the Logistics Department. Because the nobles' 'activity funds' were cut, they claim that some daily maintenance and basic supply procurement are experiencing 'temporary difficulties,' hinting that it might be necessary to 'moderately restore' certain appropriations—they're finding ways to ask for money."
"That one in the corner was just sent by the city wall patrol. It's a report on a newly discovered third structural crack in the wall, initially judged to be caused by early corner-cutting combined with frequent energy fluctuations—they want people, materials, time, and ultimately, money."
"Oh, and those few books under the desk are 'kind reminders' and 'cautious suggestions' from various officials about how the Supreme Guardian's recent aggressive policies might cause internal instability—they want me to pull back a bit and not hack away too hard."
With each item she listed, the group's silence deepened. March 7th's mouth hung open, Dan Heng silently calculated the complexity of these problems, Seele wore an impatient expression that clearly said, "The Upper District really has too much drama," and Stella had already begun to space out.
After finishing the list, [Cocolia] finally gathered a little strength, took her hand off her forehead, and revealed a face that had lost all desire to live: "...I feel now that fighting against Abnormalities, noble parasites, broken finances, shoddy construction, and bureaucracy is more tiring than fighting the stellaron core itself. At least when fighting, I know where to throw a punch."
Watching this unprecedentedly decadent appearance of her "mother," the complex emotions Bronya felt due to her being replaced were instantly replaced by immense sympathy and a hint of amusement.
"Mother... you have... worked hard."
She comforted her dryly, feeling that these words were pale and weak in the face of such a massive "mess."
"So, I'm sorry."
[Cocolia] managed to sit up a little straighter, but her body still leaned crookedly against the chair.
"I can't sort out this pile of mess for a while, so I probably can't go with you to beat up the stellaron core. I have to stay here, play the part of this 'irritable but efficient' Guardian, at least to stabilize the frontline and press these parasites to death."
"Ah—?"
Stella let out a disappointed, drawn-out sound, his shoulders slumping.
"We can't go together... I was hoping [Cocolia] would just steamroll over everything..."
He seemed to see the easy mode drifting away from him.
"Don't be discouraged."
[Cocolia] glanced at him, pulling out a tired but still gentle smile.
"[Jing Yuan] has been'specially trained' by [Bronya] for so long, his level should be up, right? Dealing with a stellaron core that lacks a suitable carrier, your current lineup is enough."
Hearing this, Stella subconsciously summoned the system panel that only he could see, and checked [Jing Yuan]'s status bar: LV.15.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he complained inwardly: Trained (beaten up) for so long, and only leveled up 6 times? Was this experience bar fed to Abnormalities?!
"And..."
[Cocolia] changed the subject, a hint of cunning flashing in her eyes.
"If the stellaron core wants to corrupt, it has to find a carrier, right? If it dares to target you guys..."
She looked specifically at Stella.
"You, just stand right at the front, and openly let it 'possess' you and see what happens."
"Huh?!"
Stella was startled and pointed at his own nose.
"Why me? And let it possess me? Isn't that just asking to be served on a platter?"
[Cocolia] smiled mysteriously, slumped back into the chair, and waved her hand: "You'll know when the time comes. Anyway, listen to me, it'll be fine. Maybe there'll be a surprise, huh?"
She kept him in suspense, clearly not intending to explain now.
Then, as if remembering something, she struggled to fumble at her waist, untied a silver token engraved with frost patterns and the Guardian's emblem, and tossed it to Bronya.
"Here, take this. Go to the frontline, find Gepard, show it to him, and say it's a direct order from me, the 'Supreme Guardian.' He will cooperate with your actions and provide necessary information and path support."
Bronya caught the token; it felt cold and heavy in her hand. She gripped the token tightly and nodded solemnly: "I understand, Mother. Please... take care of yourself, too."
Looking at her "mother" buried in official documents, she was genuinely a bit worried.
"Go, go, solve the stellaron core quickly so I can get rid of this pile of useless paper..."
[Cocolia] waved her hand listlessly, signaling them to act quickly.
The group left the office with complex feelings.
Bronya looked back one last time and saw that [Cocolia] had already slid back into her "lazy couch" posture, staring blankly at the ceiling again.
The office door closed gently.
[Cocolia] maintained her slumped posture, staying still for about ten seconds.
Then, as if pulled by invisible threads, she sat up straight again, extremely reluctantly, inch by inch, and reached out to drag over the stack of unread files.
"Continue... for Belobog..."
She gave herself some unconvincing encouragement, picked up the top one, and opened it.
Her eyes swept over the first line, and her brows furrowed.
The further she read, the tighter her brows knitted, and her eyes gradually changed from tired to sharp, finally condensing into an icy, storm-like fury.
"Hmm? 'Proposal on Encouraging the Public to Carry Forward the Spirit of Selflessness, Voluntarily Handing Over Idle Metal Utensils, Valuables, and Even Portions of Rations from Their Homes, to be Concentrated and Distributed for the Silvermane Guards' Logistics and Aristocratic Coordination'? Proposer: Deputy Director of Finance, Otto von Klevin?"
"..."
The temperature in the office dropped suddenly, and a thin layer of frost even condensed on the edge of the desk.
[Cocolia] slowly put down the document, her fingers turning slightly white from the force.
She raised her head, the last trace of laziness and fatigue on her face completely swept away, replaced by the cold, angry flames of the 'Iron-Blooded Supreme Guardian.'
She didn't even ring the bell.
She stood up directly, walked to the door, pulled it open, and faced the guard standing outside, who was startled by her sudden opening of the door. She spoke in a calm yet terrifying volume that made the corridor echo:
"Come here."
"Go to the Finance Department."
"Take Deputy Director Otto von Klevin, who proposed this 'Voluntary Handover Proposal'—"
She paused, a cold light flashing in her ice-blue pupils, every word clear and distinct:
"Tie him up tightly, and hang him on the brightest lamppost in the Central Plaza!"
"Hang him high, let everyone see clearly what the 'genius' who proposes scraping the floor to get into the civilians' bowls looks like."
Guard: "...Yes, yes! My Lady!" (Inner thoughts: Here we go again! This time it's a lamppost!)
[Cocolia] slammed the door shut, returned to the desk, and looked at the absurd proposal, her anger still not dissipated: "Scrape the civilians' rations for you to coordinate and distribute? I'll 'distribute' you to the lamppost as a decoration first! Bad luck!"
She decided that she wouldn't rest until she finished reading this pile of documents today (mainly because she was angry enough to stay awake).