“Why…?”

Ling Yi knew why, like fog that never left the valley.

Two fights in one day had piled up like snow on a roof. Then the night attack shattered her sleep like thrown gravel on glass. She’d planned to nap after lunch, to sink into quiet like a stone in a lake.

The Doctor had barred her from the field to protect her, as steady as a lighthouse in a squall. The Doctor always thought three steps ahead; follow her chart, and you didn’t hit reefs.

But if a classmate got hurt, could she really stand across the river holding the Key, and watch the fire burn?

“…!”

Ling Yi bit her lower lip, like trying to hold back a tide. She left the last few bites of lunch to go cold, and bolted out of the little observatory like a wind-bent swallow.

The unknown object dropped onto the field exactly as Yekase had predicted, a black lump in the green like a bruise on skin. It sat quiet for now, but its pitted shell looked wrong, like barnacles clinging to tar.

Thank heaven Yekase had told her she could at least evacuate students, a vent to let steam out. Doing nothing would’ve smothered her like a lid on a boiling pot.

“Where are the most people… no, go straight to the broadcast room!”

Use the campus radio, a bell that rings the whole hive!

Ling Yi skidded, spun, and sprinted the other way, racing down three flights like rain down eaves. She shouldered through the door, almost battering it open, snatched the mic from a stunned club member, drew a breath like a diver, and shouted:

“Attention everyone! An unknown object landed on the field! For your safety, evacuate at once… evacuate to the plaza by the school gate!”

“You—what are you doing?!” The host snapped back to herself, hands grabbing like a startled cat.

“Didn’t you hear? There’s an unknown object on the field! It could be an attack on the school, we have to call the police and shelter, now!”

She slammed the mic onto the desk.

Bzzzz—!

“Uh… sorry.”

She realized she’d rushed it, heat flashing like a blush, and bobbed an apology to the host.

The host cooled down, voice steady as a metronome: “What exactly is this unknown object? How big? Any reaction? This is still the campus news desk, we have to be accurate.”

“The size… from one look, about as big as a car. Black, lumpy and stringy…” Ling Yi described with chopping gestures. “It just smashed into the field. No movement yet, but the Doctor says it’s dangerous!”

“Which Doctor?”

“A very capable one!”

The host grimaced, like biting into an unripe fruit. “I can’t tell students that… forget it, anyway, everyone stay alert!”

She cut the feed cleanly, like scissors.

“And me…?”

Then her smile turned feral, a wolf’s flash under studio lights.

…?!

Ling Yi flinched back a step, a leaf startled by wind. Was she the one behind the falling object? No one was in the hall—if they fought here—

“I’m going to collect news material!”

The host zipped past her like a firework streak.

…

“Hey! What if it’s dangerous?! Wait!”

Ling Yi dashed after her, footsteps knocking like drumbeats.

She followed the host—no, call her the reporter now, a hawk with a lens—up to the window facing the field. The unknown object had changed, swelling like dough in heat since she’d first seen it, and several suspect tendrils had stabbed into the earth like spears.

“Mm-hm… it does look real eerie, like a spider egg sac,” the reporter murmured, eyes bright as a fox’s. “But I remember the Sinister Organization avoids schools. You never know which bigwig’s kid you might nick…”

“But it’s already there!”

The reporter nodded, brisk as a bobbing buoy. “True. You run back and warn everyone on air!”

“What about you?”

“Do I have to say it? First-hand intel, of course! That’s the news club’s duty! Wooo—”

She pulled a digital camera from her coat like a magician’s dove, cheered, and shot downstairs like a waterfall. The school might be under attack, yet she looked thrilled, as if chasing lightning with a jar.

“Ugh, whatever!”

Nothing different, she told herself, like grounding herself with a palm on old wood. Just do what an ordinary person can do… the way she did before she got the Flashblade System…

She soothed her feverish heart like stroking a skittish colt, and ran for the little observatory. The Doctor should’ve returned. She’d ask her plan straight from the source.

“Ahhh—!!”

A scream rose from below, thin as a knife.

“…!”

The unknown object came fully alive, exploding into motion like a hive stirred with a stick. Dozens of vine-whips unfurled and blanketed the entire field like storm squalls.

“It’s even a counter element…!”

“I’ve already called other heroes to help,” came a voice as calm as rain on eaves.

“Doctor…”

Yekase stood on the half-landing above, a silhouette like a mast against the stairwell light.

“You need rest. And you need your identity hidden. That thing is a mid-to-large threat, just as I guessed. Use this to watch and learn how to fight the inhuman.”

“If I help too, won’t it be faster?”

“No. Fatigue and wounds don’t vanish just because you say you can push through. When the bill comes due, it’ll be too late. This isn’t your superhero movie.”

Yekase’s stance turned steel, harder than any time she’d refused new clothes—harder by orders of magnitude, like frost that bites through boots.

Ling Yi felt, like a needle under the skin, that something heavy hid behind this—maybe a friend who’d worked themselves to death—but now wasn’t the time to ask. She sat on the steps, air leaking from her like a punctured bellows.

Yekase descended and sat beside her, close as a windbreak.

From here, the entire field spread below like a map—perfect seats for a storm-viewing pavilion.

Whether to keep Ling Yi from bolting like a startled deer or just by natural motion, Yekase set her left arm around Ling Yi’s waist—gentle, yet firm as a silk ribbon tied tight.

“Fine. Learn. Who knew being a hero meant homework.”

“Everything takes study.”

“You’re right, teach.”

Yekase checked the time on her phone, numbers like stars on a black screen. About time for her booked heroes from ten minutes ago to appear…

“Your opponent… is us!”

They arrived!

A plane dove from the sky like a hawk stooping. Its top hatch flowered open, and five caped figures—red, yellow, blue, green, white—rose to their feet like chess pieces set on a giant board.

“Oh! They’re here, they’re here! Five at once—that’s a squad, right? From here I can only see their backs! They’re so far, but their voices boom like thunder… that’s a true squad’s Red!”

With heroes landing, Ling Yi’s gloom blew away like morning fog. She bounced in place, a fan turned audience, eyes shining like lanterns.

The five struck poses, movement crisp as calligraphy. They drew their transformation devices, twisted twice, and held them high like torches.

“Sovereign of the sky, Dragon God Eagle!”

“Sovereign of the plains, Dragon God Lion!”

“Sovereign of the sea, Dragon God Shark!”

“Sovereign of the deep forest, Dragon God Elephant!”

“Sovereign of the mountains, Dragon God Tiger!”

“Beast King Squadron—Dragon Rangers!”

Boom, boom, boom!

Five blasts of color erupted behind them like festival fireworks.

From Ling Yi and Yekase’s angle, though, it was just smoke popping from nowhere, veiling them like a cheap stage trick, which was annoying as a gnat.

“Beast King Squadron, the Dragon Rangers… Never heard of them. A new squad?”

“No idea.”

Transformed, the five charged, weapons flashing like scythes in tall grass, hacking through the sprouting vines. But new tendrils kept bursting forth, a tide against a broom; even at full tilt, they couldn’t outpace the regrowth.

Look closer, and the core itself wasn’t still. It kept swelling, breath by breath, like a bladderfish.

“Their weapons are all different… Doctor, if new forms are hard, can we at least do new weapons?”

Always seizing the gap, like a cat slipping through a half-closed door.

“Fine, fine. I’ll make you an axe that can transform into a handgun.”

After a minute of chopping, the Rangers seemed to notice the regeneration. They traded glances, sparks across a wire. The one in red—Dragon God Eagle—raised his device again and twisted once, a cue like a baton.

“Come to me, Dragon God Core!”

Then the yellow—Dragon God Lion:

“Come to me, Dragon God Head!”

Then the blue—Dragon God Shark:

“Come to me, Dragon God Tail!”

Then the green—Dragon God Elephant:

“Come to me, Dragon God Foot!”

And last, the white—Dragon God Tiger:

“Come to me, Dragon God Claw!”

Flashes lit the horizon like falling stars. Five dark dots hatched from the light and arrowed toward Heavenly Heart High School.

“Oh, oh! They’re bringing out the robots! Doctor…”

“That one, I really can’t build.”

“Ehhh—”

The Dragon God parts thundered down onto the field. What had been spacious clogged like a river jammed with driftwood. The Rangers boarded their mecha, engines flaring like bellows. All but the Foot rose into the sky, heavy as kites with iron bones.

“Let’s combine!”

“Right!” “Mm!” “Copy!” “Right!”

“Race toward the world’s horizon! Speak His name, the Dragon God—giver of power, tender yet majestic!”

Ling Yi didn’t speak. She just grabbed Yekase’s shoulder with both hands, shaking her like a tree in a storm, joy crackling like dry leaves.

“Zhuoerjin!”

Vwooom—!!

A pillar of light fell from the heavens, a white trunk wrapping all five parts. With transformations too complex to name, gears singing like cicadas, the five locked together and became one—a giant robot with a lion’s head, a tiger’s claws, an elephant’s legs, a shark’s tail, and not a hint of an actual dragon in sight.

“Dragon God Pioneer—deploy!”

The robot hugged the unknown object, muscles of steel tensing like a crane’s cable, trying to rip it from the earth!

It was a plant-like regenerating monster with vines like veins. Sever the roots, and it’s done!

Snap, snap—vine after vine broke, the sound crisp as dry twigs. Big as it was, compared to the combined robot it was just a watermelon in a bear’s paw, lifted clean from the ground.

“Did they do it?” Ling Yi asked, hope rising like a kite.

“The moment you ask that, it’s never over,” Yekase said, a rueful breeze.

As she spoke, the freed thing turned its thinner rootlets into a net, wrapping Dragon God Pioneer like ivy over a wall, and began to drink its power like a leech.

“Ungh…!”

Drained, Dragon God Pioneer dropped to one knee, a felled pine bowing under ice. The roots wouldn’t tear; the giant wavered, about to crash like a toppling tower.

“Doctor! I really, really—”

Yekase turned, eyes locking with Ling Yi’s like flint striking steel.

Conviction, worry, anger—braided together like storm clouds. It was the look Yekase had seen most through drone cameras: a hero’s eyes, bright as a blade.

Two battles in, and she was already a real hero.

Because of that,

Yekase had to—

“…Watch them fight. Win or lose, eyes open, minute by minute. Stay to the very end.”