After dinner, Ling Yi sat with her dad, Ling Youguang, on the sagging sofa, bathed in TV-blue like a pond under moonlight.

Mom drifted through the housework like a tide, while Ling Ya finished fast like a sparrow pecking and locked herself away. Dad cried, “Daddy’s so lonely,” like a stray cat at night, so Ling Yi sighed and sank into the couch.

He always glared daggers at any friend they brought home, a winter hawk judging mice. But the moment no outsiders were around, he melted into this needy kitten. Ling Yi couldn’t help thinking how a former club host could change faces like cloud-shadow on a river.

[Breaking news. At the Twin-Tower Dome, the Kengan Tournament’s barrier failed. Two fighters wrecked the stadium roof and moved the fight over the city. The hero “Magical Girl Icarus,” who debuted during recent alien incursions, has gone to stop them and is engaged. Those responsible have been charged with drunk neglect.]

…Magical Girl Icarus?

Isn’t that the Doctor’s temporary mask?

A flicker tugged at her heart before thought. Ling Yi blinked until the long-focus shot caught two fighting in midair, one spectating. Then certainty landed—Yekase.

That high, proud red cowlick—glowing faintly after transformation—was a comet-tail you’d never mistake.

But why is the Doctor riding a staff?

Oh, right—Magical Girl form. Used in the One-Year War. She kept it.

Then why is she still hacking people with a dagger?

Heat spiked in Ling Yi’s chest. She sprang off the sofa.

“Stay with Daddy a bit longer.”

“I’m going to my room to game. Do not come in.”

Let the Doctor fight two at once while she watched? Absolutely not.

She locked her door, slid the window, and slipped into the yard like a night swallow.

“Flashblade Activation!”

“Starry Sky Striker ACE!”

“ZEROS!”

—Okay, blank form is blank form. So why add an S after ZERO? Four S’s to salute some mecha anime? The Doctor’s dramatic nerd flair remained gloriously inexplicable.

She’d asked Ling Ya how she snuck out to fight without family noticing. Answer: “team transporter.” The thing even had identity locks—only recognized the five Beast King Cubes. No borrowing.

She’d asked Professor F for a new one. Professor F said, nope—those five cubes and every living teleporter came from alien relics.

So Ling Yi could only transform at home, slip into a nearby alley, lift off, and streak toward Sun Palace like a dawn ray.

Before she reached it, the sky shook with war-drum noise.

Boom!

Artillery—like thunder cracking stone.

Thump-thump!

Physical impacts—like fists pounding a temple drum.

“Doctor—!”

She burst from the high-rise thicket, worry burning like a lantern, eyes on the battlefield—

First she saw Yekase.

One knee braced on her staff, the other foot on its lower bough, back arched in a daredevil curve. In that risky, fierce pose, she carved impossible lines through the air, dogfighting the red mech like a kite dancing a typhoon.

The red mech spat missiles and lasers, and even shot out a telescoping arm to grab her. She ghosted past with footwork like drifting willow leaves, or baited them to blow midflight, or met beam with beam—no catches, no kills.

Ling Yi’s breath eased, a spring ripple settling.

“Gale!”

“Code-02! HAYATE!”

She lifted her arm and fed him an electromagnetic round. Bowman had been chasing Yekase hard; the shot slammed his back, momentum buckled, and Yekase flung him far like a tossed reed boat.

“Reinforcements… you buzzing flies in swarms!”

He’d been on this hunt too long, fury smoking like gunpowder. A new target appeared, so he wheeled and came at Ling Yi with storm-fast malice.

Ling Yi skimmed into wide circles, speed rising like a racing falcon, and kept plinking him with EM fire from afar.

Far off, the Emerald Pool rep watched and let out a sunny laugh.

After the water-park incident, Emerald Pool’s name sank like a stone. The whole org looked half-hearted about the Kengan Tournament. He threw dice, lost, and got stuck playing the sacrificial cameo.

From the first exchange, he’d felt Bowman’s mind off, like he’d snorted flame—vicious and wild. The shield had failed, and he’d been half rolled over, surviving by gritted teeth and waiting for a gap to run.

Then the two heroes showed up like rain in drought to handle his problem.

If they drove him out of bounds, that was on staff. If they downed Bowman, he’d score by lying flat. A lazy windfall.

[—Contestants, attention!]

A voice rose from below, crisp as a bell.

[Due to intruders, the committee has revised win conditions.]

“Huh?”

[Both contestants must now shoot down both intruding heroes. Fight to your heart’s content!]

—To hell with “content”!

Past thirty, the Emerald Pool rep nearly dropped like a stunned pigeon.

This show’s over. Forfeit it is. Life first.

He turned and flew hard, away from the storm. Luckily, he hadn’t tried any cheap shots. The three tangled up there shouldn’t notice—

[Employee 1103.]

A voice bloomed inside his armor, cold as midnight water.

“…?!”

His direct boss—the Minister of External Relations. The armor’s internal channel lit.

[Go fight those two heroes. This is our Emerald Pool PR moment.]

“?! B-but—”

[As a bottom-tier combatant, you don’t get to refuse. To awaken your potential, I’ve also got a little surprise—]

…

……

The deep-green single-soldier suit, almost out of sight, snapped around. He drew a beam saber and charged at Yekase, aiming for the lower-armor target like a hawk stooping.

“Mm? You too now…”

Yekase didn’t flinch. From the start she’d planned for two-on-one. With Ling Yi easing the pressure, the wind favored her.

A quick aerial twist shook off a missile from nowhere. She raised her dagger to meet the beam saber, steel to moonlight.

Bzz!

No suspense—the silver beam severed at contact, energy cut like a stream dammed, leaving a bald hilt in his hand.

Standard sabers compress Omega Ray or Mind Energy to shape. Her vibro-cut sliced straight through that energy lattice.

The Emerald Pool rep rushed to reinject power, but Yekase slipped past in that heartbeat, ghosting behind like a passing shadow.

She didn’t stab his back. She slid to Ling Yi’s side, breath steadied like tea steam.

“Morning, Flashblade Red.”

“…Why morning?”

Ling Yi blinked, amused. Maybe it was tradition; history’s weight smiled through.

Yekase exhaled, chest rising like a tide. “I’m a bit tired from that dogfight. You handle main DPS. I’ll support, and screen the greener one.”

“Got it!”

Ling Yi glanced up and down Yekase’s outfit, joy bright as lanterns.

“…Full marks cute.”

“Enough. You’ve seen it once.”

Yekase rolled her eyes, a cool breeze across summer heat.

“Tsundere, wow…”

Ling Yi’s hands never paused. The EM cannon roared lively, hot as a forge, washing Bowman from head to toe over and over.

“Uwooooooo—!!”

Bowman roared. His half-busted shield flared like a cracked shell. Four mechanical claws on his right spun and fused, swallowing his arm and swelling into a giant limb thicker than his torso.

“Hundred-Arm Gale!!”

The giant arm plowed through HAYATE’s rain of energy shots, slow-seeming yet swift as a striking snake, grasping for Ling Yi like a storm hand.

No, you’ve only got one arm. Yekase flicked a Black Spider toward the Emerald Pool rep, and tipped up the Helen Disk to flatten the wind pressure. In a breath, she climbed to a hawk’s height, overseeing the battlefield.

“Gauntlet!”

“Code-03! KAINA!”

A flash of crimson fire, and green armor shifted into heavy yellow plating, weighty as temple bronze.

“If we’re talking arms, I’ve got plenty!”

Ling Yi’s shoulders unfolded two mechanical arms, joining her own hands to meet Bowman’s giant palm head-on like pillars bracing a sky.

The old headache in upgrading the Flashblade System—how to balance extra gear across forms. Yekase’s final verdict:

Don’t balance it.

Old Flashblade worked like scattered workstations, pulling extra gear from a cloud server on swap. Now, Starry Sky Striker was one local supercomputer.

Switching to a ternary architecture expanded memory. Need a module? Read it straight off disk. That’s why transformation load sped up. Extra gear downloads into the key itself, bound to its form.

Ling Yi poured Flash Energy into the mechanical arms, reshaping them midflight. Two clamps locked tight around Bowman’s giant limb, and her energy surged in, invading his systems like red lightning through roots.

This—Training Island special?!

Pick up the bad habits, skip the good ones, huh!

“Flashblade apparatus—”

…What now? Yekase didn’t remember naming extra gear—

“Black Widow Anchor!”

Flash Energy lit Ling Yi’s chest. From the contact point, ripples ran along the arm’s hull like crimson fish schooling, fading only at Bowman’s shoulder.

—Bang.

Like something cracked open inside stone.

Thrusters flared behind Ling Yi, spraying wings of crimson particles. With a full sweep, she swung the hijacked giant arm and flung Bowman skyward like a spinning maple seed.

“Doctor, heads up—!”

“I said I’d be support!”

Yekase watched Bowman spiral up, growing in her sight like a rising moon. Helpless, she intoned softly:

“Passion,”

“—Flame Burst Spell.”