“Here’s a heads-up. Ling Yi’s situation isn’t as sunny as it looks. She’s taken full control of the Flash Energy, made herself part of the Flashblade System— a living bolt welded into the engine.”

Yekase didn’t flinch at the phrase. She pulled the focus back to the battlefield.

“The price is this: her body’s getting scoured back and forth by armor‑grade Flash Energy, like waves hammering a steel hull. Soon she’ll go foggy, then agitated.”

“This…!”

Professor F’s eyes flew wide.

Yekase’s projection was dead on.

Ling Yi and the fusion mech traded blow for blow, sparks like fireflies in a storm—yet fatigue crept up her limbs like cold iron.

Panic hit first, sharp and sour. Was she inheriting the doctor’s ‘ten minutes of fight time’?

Whatever the cause, she was sure she’d soon lose control of the armor on her arms and legs.

Keep this up, and it wouldn’t just be the armor—her whole body would come apart into pieces.

She clenched her jaw. Her hands clamped the fusion mech’s two forearms—once named the Dragon God Core and the Dragon God Tail, glories turned into shackles.

“Dragon God Eagle! Dragon God Shark! You’re still in there, right?”

“I’m here to take the shift again!”

Silence answered.

The frame had twisted into human arms; the cockpit must’ve been crushed narrow. Had they passed out inside?

Damn it… I can only keep fighting.

Her control grew sluggish, like fingers in glue. A spark of a plan flared; she dumped every remaining drop of Flash Energy through her jet ports.

Flash Energy geysered out and unfurled behind her as two translucent blood‑red wings, a predator’s pennants.

With their thrust, she hugged a mech twice her size and lifted into the air like a hawk bearing prey.

“Dragon God Eagle! Your favorite Earth drop!”

Spinning was out. She gritted through it and hurled the fusion mech straight down.

Boom!!

Dozens of bulletproof windows in the secret base shattered in chorus, a tide of glass.

From above, Buzhou Mountain—already battered until bare rock was gone—turned cleanly into a crater, a punched‑out moon scar.

Ling Yi sat astride the fusion mech and clawed at the joints where its arms connected.

If she could separate their mechs—no, if she could just pry out the cockpit—

Creak—griiiind—creak—

The fusion mech’s frame wailed under the load. The damage piled up until it hit a critical threshold.

She stared at its battle‑scarred paint, and a hot impulse surged up from her chest.

Saving them would be slower. Right here, tearing the fusion mech into scrap was simpler, more efficient, safer.

Do it, then.

She raised her fist and drove it into the chest plate.

Deep inside lay the engine; the resonance between Flash Energy and Flash Energy sang like tuning forks, and she locked the exact spot without effort.

Then another punch. And another.

Tearing down a mech felt this clean? No wonder the doctor wore a mask and took other people’s mechs apart.

Yekase and Professor F drank in the sight from the Oz Floating Disc, hovering like a pale moon.

Both sides were at their limit. Ling Yi clawed back a sliver of stamina and seized the advantage—but it wasn’t a moment to celebrate.

There’s no free lunch, no miracle from nothing. Even Flash Energy that blooms from ‘nothing’ starts as symmetric annihilation particles—just like the cosmos.

The price Ling Yi paid for fist‑swinging strength was plain from the disc—she’d slipped into the first stage of mania.

“Both fighters… they’re your children, aren’t they, Doctor Ye?”

She called inventions “children.”

A romantic classicist’s touch.

Yekase nodded, wordless.

“Is this the scene you wanted to see?”

Of course not.

“You’re Yekase. And you’re Mechbreaker.”

Professor F rose on the disc, arms folded, gaze pinned to the girl beside her, a severity they’d never seen on her face.

“Creation, or destruction… which side are you on?”

…

…

Yekase flashed a scissors sign.

She stepped forward and jumped.

“Celestial Speech—”

A thread of Sorcery gifted by Professor F, and a final 0.5 seconds of invincibility—she still had cards up her sleeve.

“Oz Floating Disc!”

Not floating—disc.

Transparent thought‑force gathered under her into a chain of sloped planes. She stepped on them and skated toward the fight, a comet on rails.

She needed to hit the exact spot and carry enough gravity to hurt. One wrong control, and her arm—or her whole body—would shatter like porcelain.

With Professor F here, it should be fine. If not, she’d Phase Shift and clip herself underground—

A white meteor scratched a line across the sky and fell into the crater’s heart, vanishing inside the dust kicked up by Ling Yi’s wild barrage.

“...Ugh… that didn’t go great…”

Yekase did hit the connector between the fusion mech and its blue arm.

She also stabbed it. With Nayuta, she speared that wavering weak point, precise as a tailor’s needle.

The Dragon God Tail slipped free of the Gauntlet’s control and clattered aside.

But Yekase had added a touch too much angle. Even Phase Shift couldn’t save it. She lay on the ground now, unable to move.

“Cough, cough…!”

Pain signals fired from everywhere, a red constellation.

Who knew how many bones were cracked.

Lying still here was a deadly habit—she could be flattened into a meat patty at any moment—but even dragging her legs was beyond her.

“Dragon God Shark—no. I should call you…”

She spit blood with suspicious grit, drew a breath, and shouted:

“Ling Ya—!! Yaya—!!”

…

—Thump.

From the detached mechanical flank, an armor plate flew off and skidded away. From the hole, like a movie teasing a sequel, a hand in a white glove and blue sleeve reached out.

“Who’s calling me?”

Dragon God Shark—Ling Ya—crawled free.

Her first glance found Yekase—who’d ripped off her mask during the slide so they could recognize each other the instant she was out—sprawled crooked on the ground like a squashed green caterpillar.

“You… why is it you…”

At last she matched [Doctor] to [Doctor] in her head. The awful guess that flashed through her mind in the ruins this morning was true—

“Time’s tight. I’ll give you three lines…”

Yekase ground her teeth and forced the words out.

“First, I’m not the green Sky Striker.”

“Second, I’m Mechbreaker.”

“Third, for Ling Yi—let’s fight side by side.”

Ling Ya stepped up to Yekase.

Yekase could only look up at her face… even if she stomped her head now, she had no complaint left to make.

“I’m sorry I lied this long. I’m sorry I dragged your sister into the fight…”

Ling Ya clenched her fists. She said nothing.

Behind her, Ling Yi still straddled the now‑silent fusion mech, and like a wind‑up beast, punched and punched at an engine that no longer worked.

Her sister had become a monster, all instinct and fists.

“...!”

Ling Ya grabbed Yekase’s collar and hauled her off the ground.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow—”

“Did you get hurt like this to save me?”

“Figured your voice had a better chance of waking her… ow, ow!”

Behind the visor, Ling Ya stared at Yekase’s pain‑twisted face, smeared with blood and grime. She let go of the collar.

Then she hugged her tight.

“Uh—”

The pain almost knocked Yekase out cold.

For a blink she saw a carousel of lights. Hyaku‑Shiki… Getter Dragon… Cauchy… King Jim… were you here to greet me—guide me to the horizon of causality, to a peaceful world where everyone just happily builds mechs—

Ling Ya cradled Yekase’s slack body, sprinted at full speed back to the base’s living quarters, handed her off to Zhang Wendao and Professor F, then ran out of sight.

“Doctor?! How are you this hurt?!”

[I saw it from here. When she jumped right next to you, you should’ve stopped her!]

The reading software’s calm tone couldn’t carry Zhang Wendao’s fury. She was angry at Professor F for not stopping Yekase, and angrier at herself—when she’d tried to meddle in the organization’s feud, Yekase had stopped her; now Yekase risked her life against a berserk mech, and she could only watch from the side.

Professor F regretted it to the bone. She’d felt Yekase’s actions were still erratic, had even lured enemies who wrecked two Dragon God mechs, so she’d used those words as a last test—if Yekase had shown even a hint of restraint, she would’ve chosen to trust her!

She hadn’t expected this mysterious, usually rational and cautious genius girl to just jump and go!

It wasn’t guilt over the test—she was worried about those three.

“This… this is life‑threatening! We need the ER now! I hope the ER didn’t collapse—”

She looked toward the room where she’d checked Yekase’s ear not long ago, and saw only rubble, brutally plain.

“…I’ll take her to the nearest city!”

[Observer]—thankfully, Pad Two hadn’t been hit. Professor F carefully carried Yekase aboard. Zhang Wendao followed at once.

“Robot, take off! Nearest city, nearest hospital! Fastest speed!”

The robot pilot obeyed. They felt gravity clamp them as they sat. When they looked out the window again, they were already in the sky.

From afar, the rampaging Flashblade System had broken apart; the crater held a tangled field of scrap, metal without faces.

“So… it’s over…”

“No. It’s not over.”

Professor F’s face went stone‑blue.

The window beside her faced the sea. Out there, the surface had curled into a monstrous whirlpool, a black iris—exactly above the trench ruins.

“Trouble doesn’t come alone… Did the fight wake the ruins’ guardian systems? No—at this scale, could it be—”

She looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms.

Was it the owner of those eyes Yekase saw in the trench?