They hadn’t flown long when a blue slab rose like a tide along the horizon.

The Mediterranean.

It looked penned now, netted like a pasture for seawater fish, yet the water shone clearer than glass. For the fish to thrive, the sea was scrubbed clean, and beauty came back brighter.

Their destination sat on a peninsula thrust into the blue, a fuse jutting from the Balkan powder keg. Even from here, Yekase spotted a palace gleaming like minted coin.

The castle looked cast in silver. Sunset washed it in royal fire. Main palace, side towers, walls, galleries—even the lower quarters that felt like a town—everything blazed in silver.

“What do you even call this city?”

“Labyrinth City, Silver City—take your pick.”

No, no, no. This doesn’t feel meant for living humans at all.

Ariana read her like ripples in a teacup. “Our residents are monsters the Church hounded—vampires, werewolves, that sort. We also shelter human heretics.”

“So you huddle together for warmth and set up an independent city-state.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Kind of tragic, she thought. Then again, didn’t Italy have a country within a country—the Papal State, the Vatican? Wouldn’t that clash with Labyrinth City? That should be around—

Yekase swept her gaze across Italy like a hawk cutting the wind. No colossal cathedral, not the one she pictured.

“Two hundred years ago,” Ariana sang, “the master of Labyrinth led everyone to break the vile Christians’ lair, drove them to Jerusalem, then purified their sinful city and founded Labyrinth City.”

“You built your city on top of the Vatican?!”

Ariana’s smile was carved to perfection. “Yes.”

Yekase held it in for a beat, then snorted a laugh. “I thought killing an Iron Cross Knight on day one in Europe was already over the line. You folks went straight to hell mode.”

“You’re impressive too,” Ariana chimed. “That pillar of light inspired everyone.”

No one wonders if that was a fake? Well, who’d dare to claim it?

They landed in a garden at the castle’s feet. Another white-haired maid thundered out, shoes drumming like rain, and skidded to a stop before Yekase, panting.

“Hello, honored guest! I’m the younger sister, Arianna!”

“Uh, hello…”

“Hello, honored guest! I’m the older sister, Ariana!”

“I got that part.”

What is this, a maid café ambush?

Yekase never dared step into those places; shame would kick her off the roof. Now her whole body went taut. Two maids bracketed her like swans, and she stiff-walked through a side door.

“The master is waiting in the drawing room,” said Arianna.

“We prepared tea and cakes,” said Ariana.

“Is the guest an Eastern yokai?” Arianna asked.

“Such a strong scent of Infinite Power,” Ariana added.

Chatter pecked at her temples. She had a seven-year-old body right now, Flash Energy bled dry, barely one-thirty tall. Shorter than both maids, she was a sparrow caught between cranes.

“Mm… I used to be pure human. Some things happened. Now I’m a Flash Energy fusion organism. Call it half a yokai?”

“Flash Energy is that red Infinite Power, right?”

“It must be. It must be.”

“So young and accomplished,” they chimed.

Please walk faster… this tag-team rainbow-flattery is lethal.

Yekase loved calling herself a genius to outsiders, loved the shock or admiration from insiders. Mix the two wrong, and lay it on like this, and she couldn’t take it.

Thankfully the drawing room was close. They hopped to a stop before a thick silver door and, with mirrored grace, pulled it open.

“Please come in.”

“Please come in.”

The doors parted slow as a tide. The room flashed back at her.

Marble tile smooth as a still lake. Crystal chandeliers pouring rivers of light. Everything declared rank and power.

On a one-step dais stood a silver throne. The city-state’s ruler—the Silver Princess of Labyrinth—sat upon it.

She wore a tailored silver court gown, the bodice scandalously compelling. Her bearing was stately. Twin metallic ornaments like bullhorns hugged her head, while spiral silver hair spilled from them like a waterfall across her shoulders.

Like a noblewoman—yes, a medieval grande dame. Far more convincing than Sandryon ever played it.

“Welcome, guest of the Silver City—the ‘Dual-Polar Mechbreaker,’ Miss Yekase.”

Her voice was a little husky, pleasant as smoke.

“No need to use some rando’s nickname… also, since when did it become ‘Dual-Polar’?”

Yekase moved to step in—

and felt something wrong.

…

…Lines.

Silver threads, drawn taut at her waist height.

Her foot froze midair. She noticed a loosened corner tile, and square, black mouths in the walls like sleeping crossbows.

Really now.

“This is how you welcome me?”

She stepped down anyway.

Arrows whooshed. Trip-mines barked. Knives fell like cold rain.

Her Gunblade and iron staff were already in hand. Clang-clang-clang—she batted the knives away. One arrow slipped through and nailed her knee—

—pop.

She yanked out a rubber-tipped toy arrow.

“Nice sideshow. Nostalgic. I used to lay this kind of rabbit-snare too.”

Back then the arrows and mines were real, and the maid self-destructed after. She kept that part to herself.

“I’m glad you like it. Please, sit.”

The door eased shut behind her—those two maids probably came to watch her trip. Left alone with the princess, Yekase settled in fast.

“Sandryon is my dearest friend. Two centuries ago, in the founding war, she secured a key flank for the Silver City.”

“Figures. She never struck me as the stay-at-home type.”

By rights, Sandryon should’ve stayed curled in her street. Why run off to Huaxia, where Alchemy basics and culture were nearly nil? Yekase had suspected she’d burned bridges in Europe. Maybe she just loathed the Church.

“I heard that before you apprenticed to her, you’d studied mechs?”

“A bit. I can do repairs. Building, I’m stuck at low-end.”

“Then may I ask a favor?”

Yekase understood—the world never hands out free kindness. A friend’s disciple doesn’t earn this red-carpet treatment. Of course Labyrinth had a request.

“What is it?”

“In that war, my personal mech—the Silver War-Idol—was badly damaged. It’s still unfixed. Most monsters here act on instinct; governing them is hard, training mechanics harder. Human mechanics can’t be trusted. The few we hired said they couldn’t do it…”

“I’m technically a human mechanic—”

“A human who, when Sorcery runs low, becomes a child?”

“…That’s Flash Energy.”

Can’t hide a lantern in the dark. Yekase smiled wryly.

“A two-hundred-year-old mech… left half-ruined for ages. I can’t promise a full revival. Let me take a look first.”

“You speak boldly, and you don’t fear me. No wonder she chose you.”

Because your headlights are bright and—nope, say nothing.

She flipped to work mode, slipped on a business smile, and followed the Silver Princess out. Ariana trailed them. Down a red-carpet spiral they went, into the underground hangar.

Two beams snapped on, spearing a silent giant.

Ceiling lights flowered one by one. The giant stepped into clarity—a thirty-meter mech in dark gray, its contours mimicking a gargoyle, heavy as a cathedral buttress.

Heavy-fire type, most likely.

Its shape told a sad story. Plates cracked, scorched, warped. In places, dull Infinite Power circuits lay exposed like veins under torn skin.

Arms folded, Yekase studied it at its feet. “It’s fixable. I’ll open Infinite Force Perception to work. When I release it, I’ll lose vision briefly. Don’t be alarmed.”

“It’s fixable?” Joy rippled her voice like wind in silk.

“Got an overhead hook? If not, bring scaffolding.”

“We do!”

Ariana sprinted to a corner, came back with a remote and a coil of safety lines. She tapped a button. A hook dropped straight down, nearly braining Yekase.

Yekase clipped the line on, snugged the straps, latched the chest ring. A light hop took her level with the mech’s waist, hanging steady as a spider on silk.

“Why not just fly, guest?” the maid asked.

“Keeping Sorcery up while working splits focus and causes accidents. Take me higher. I’m going in.”

She found a ledge, swung a leg up, and checked the worst wounds one by one. The tool bag on her line stayed closed.

“Is something wrong?” the princess called up.

“Not wrong… more like…”

She drew a long breath, like pulling a bowstring.

“Who wrote this main control logic? An ocean of if-statements to the horizon. Even brute-forcing nonlinear probabilities uses fewer ifs. Your load time must rival Internet Explorer.”

“…!”

Princess and maid went blank, spooked by the sudden, crackling presence. This was her true nature—or the soul of a mechanic.

“The belly circuits are piled like random noodles. The four limbs don’t share control logic at all—what wild path is that? You give up free coordination so you can clutch a win on one remaining leg? Then at least route the lines clean!”

“And what are these half-cut runs in the shoulders and skirt armor? The ends look like sinew hacked with a dull knife. Don’t tell me they’re upgrade ports. What mount could even plug into that? They’re heat-waste outlets at best. Not dashing enough? You wanted steam for special effects?”

She vented it all, took two deep breaths, then glanced at the baffled princess. Tiredness brushed her tone. “Do you want it restored as-is, or do I improve it?”

The princess and Ariana traded a look. Others only said can’t or won’t. With her, it was restore or refine.

“Then… refine it, please. I want it back on the field at its best.”

“That’ll cost extra.”

“Name your price.”

Now we’re talking.

“An Alchemy sky-isle. Two hundred fifty square meters of surface, full ownership. Comes with a natural-soil nursery, a hangar, a warp beacon, a hemispheric simulated sky, and a P2-grade lab.”