Sunny did not linger long after his conversation with Clara ended, though from an outside perspective, it might have seed as if he simply drifted away without direction or urgency.
That, of course, was not entirely true.
As he walked, his thoughts shifted.
He had gained a mory from killing Cocolia, and another from Scar of the Hollow. The sheer value of those acquisitions alone was enough to make most people stop everything and examine them imdiately, but Sunny did not. There was no urgency in him when it ca to such things, at least not in the traditional sense. He knew they would still be there later, and more importantly, he preferred to look at them when he could do so without distraction.
Right now, his mind was occupied elsewhere.
He would check them later.
The thought passed without resistance, and with it ca sothing far less convenient.
Seele.
The shift in his expression was subtle, but noticeable. His lips pressed together slightly, and the faint ease in his posture tightened by just a fraction. It was not grief, nor regret in any dramatic sense, but sothing quieter and more irritating.
Discomfort.
When they had spoken earlier, Sunny had made a deliberate effort to present himself as soone she would not want to remain close to. He had leaned into his more insufferable traits, exaggerating his indifference, his selfishness, his willingness to discard anything that only tied him down. It had not been entirely dishonest, but it had been curated.
The goal had been simple.
Push her away.
If she resented him, if she found him unbearable, then she would leave on her own terms.
That way, he could stomp that juvenile bud of affection that threatened to bloom into a tree of obsession.
And yet, even as he justified it, Sunny could not entirely deny the faint irritation that ca with it. Not because he regretted the decision, but because he understood that it was not as clean as he had intended.
Separation rarely was.
He exhaled quietly, his gaze lowering slightly as his thoughts continued to drift.
It would hurt a little.
Not in any aningful, lasting way, but enough to be noticeable.
An hour, maybe two.
That was how long he estimated it would take before the feeling beca irrelevant.
Two of his friends died, and within a matter of hours, he had moved on. The difference, in that case, was that he had an outlet. Cocolia had been there, a convenient target for the anger and frustration that ca with loss, allowing him to burn through those emotions quickly rather than letting them linger.
This ti, there was no such outlet.
Just absence.
Still, Sunny did not dwell on it.
People ca and went, and the more one tried to hold onto them, the more complicated things beca.
So he did what he always did.
He let it go.
Or at least, he told himself that he would.
His thoughts shifted again, this ti toward sothing far more practical.
He had business to handle.
A significant amount of it.
So of it was personal, matters that required his direct attention and could not be delegated or ignored. Other aspects involved obligations — debts, agreents, loose ends that needed to be tied off before they beca problems.
And after that...
He would leave.
The Astral Express had served its purpose, but Sunny had never intended to remain tied to it indefinitely. The environnt was too unpredictable, too entangled with other people, too dependent on circumstances beyond his control. His Stellarons were finally under control, so there was no point in hanging around.
If he wanted to grow stronger — truly stronger — then he needed isolation.
A place where he could act without interference.
A place where he did not have to account for others.
Of course, that did not an he intended to sever all connections entirely. That would have been inefficient. Contacts had value, especially the kind he had accumulated. People like that were resources, and abandoning them completely would have been wasteful.
He would still reach out when necessary.
But it would be on his terms.
That was the difference.
By the ti his thoughts settled into that conclusion, Sunny had already reached the Space Anchor.
It stood where he had left it, unchanged and unbothered by everything that had happened around it. The structure humd faintly with restrained energy, a quiet constant in a world that had been anything but stable.
Sunny stepped closer without hesitation.
The mont he interacted with it, the familiar sensation returned.
Information unfolded within his mind, not in the form of words or images, but as sothing more intuitive. A map — not a static one, but a dynamic construct that shifted and expanded as he focused on it.
An intergalactic network of destinations.
Sunny’s brow furrowed slightly as he navigated through it, his attention narrowing as he searched for sothing specific.
"Co on..."
The words slipped out under his breath, more out of habit than necessity.
There were too many options.
Too many locations.
For a brief mont, it felt almost overwhelming.
Then, suddenly, there it was.
A location that did not need explanation.
A place he recognized instantly, not through the map, but through sothing far more ingrained.
Earth.
The Astral Express had been there.
At so point, during its journey, it had passed through his ho.
Sunny’s lips curled into a faint, crooked smile, sothing that hovered between amusent and sothing less definable.
’Found you.’
Frankly, he hated that place. It was filled with so many bad mories it was a miracle he wasn’t suicidal.
And yet...
Here it was.
He did not hesitate.
There was no reason to.
The decision had already been made the mont he recognized it.
With a simple act of will, Sunny activated the Space Anchor.
The world shifted.
One mont, he was standing in the cold streets of Belobog.
The next, he was sowhere else entirely.
The transition completed without resistance, and Sunny found himself standing beside another Space Anchor, its design identical to the one he had just used.
For a brief mont, he said nothing.
He simply looked.
The environnt was different.
The air lacked the harsh bite of the frozen world of Jarilo-VI, replaced instead by sothing neutral, almost sterile. The ground beneath his feet was smooth, polished, part of a city that had clearly been maintained with care and resources.
In front of him stood a massive corporate building, its surface reflecting the surrounding environnt in pristine clarity. The architecture was precise, calculated, designed not just for function but for presence.
Sunny’s gaze shifted slightly, taking in the details.
He did not need confirmation.
He was in the Center of the City.
Not the Outskirts.
He didn’t worry about it. Instead, he extended his shadow sense, allowing it to spread outward in all directions.
He blinked.
The reaction was subtle, but unmistakable.
His shadow sense, which had once been capable of encompassing the entirety of Belobog, failed to extend as far as expected.
It spread outward, yes, but it did not reach the edges.
Not even close.
In fact, it barely extended beyond the central district of the Center.
Sunny frowned slightly, his arms crossing as he processed the discrepancy.
’Was it always this large?’
The thought lingered, uncertain and faintly unsettling.
Or perhaps, he had simply never seen it properly before.
His gaze shifted toward the people passing by.
They moved with purpose, their clothing clean, their posture relaxed in a way that suggested stability. Though, they did seem a little overworked...
He needed to reach the Outskirts. The area where he had lived. That was his actual destination. This was just the starting point.
Taking a slow breath, Sunny realized that his usual thods were not going to be as effective here. His shadow sense, while still functional, was too puny for this massive City.
Which ant he would need to rely on sothing else.
Possibly even asking soone, though the idea was not particularly appealing.
He exhaled quietly, tilting his head back slightly as his gaze drifted upward.
And then—
He froze.
The reaction was imdiate and absolute, cutting through his thoughts with a clarity that left no room for distraction.
"...Ah."
The sound escaped him almost involuntarily.
At first, it did not fully register.
Not in a way that could be processed imdiately.
But as his gaze remained fixed on the sky, the realization began to take shape.
He let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of humor despite its form.
Because what he was seeing—
What he had never been able to see before—
Was sothing that fundantally altered his perception of everything.
It encircled the planet.
It looped around Earth in a perfect ring, its scale so imnse that it defied imdiate comprehension. The portions that faced the planet blended seamlessly with the darkness of space, their presence hidden from ordinary sight.
But Sunny was no longer ordinary.
He could see it.
And as he stood there, staring upward, one thought surfaced above all others.
Why did everything suddenly feel so small?
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