Four days later, the Silver Demon Idol and the custom alchemical sky island finished almost together, like twin moons clearing the same cloud.

Labyrinth City took the mech up and circled the city-state again and again, hawk-shadow over tiles, until Italy’s government stirred like a hornet nest and scrambled fighters, iron geese wheeling, so she obediently set down on the tarmac.

The dagger-shaped island key, cold as frost on steel, was placed in Yekase’s hand.

“Where’s the island?”

Arianna pointed at the sky over their heads, finger like an arrow into blue silk.

She reached over and pressed the auth button at the key’s hilt; a light-curtain swept across Yekase’s face like dawn over water, confirmed her, and bloomed a two-meter portal before them like a round pond.

“As you requested, no quantum teleportation,” Arianna said, voice smooth as oiled wood. “We installed an old-style gate.”

“Yeah.”

Just thinking about direct quantum teleport made Yekase’s skin crawl like ants on paper; arriving felt like a stranger in her own skin, so she’d demanded the old gate, solid as a bridge over a river.

She’d step through on her own feet, mind clear and continuous like an unbroken thread, totally safe.

On the far side lay a European-style garden, lime-stone bright as bone.

Beneath her boots, tightly set cobblestones glittered like fish scales; to the left, a reserved plot lay dark as tilled loam; to the right, a natural-soil nursery sat ready, a brown bed for Mom’s idle flowers and, if needed, Alchemy herbs sown like stars.

Yekase looked back at the portal; White-Silver City’s artisans had inlaid it into a finely carved circular stone arch, full-moon perfect, with wooden fencing flowing out on both sides to ring the island like a halo.

“The island’s gate is fixed,” Arianna said, voice light as windbells. “The ground side can input coordinates and open, that’s the jump beacon service. Once the key’s embedded, no need to pull it again; later, to board, just draw a recall array and call the island’s ID, and the gate opens like a flower. That won’t stump you, right?”

“That’s pretty convenient.”

As Arianna stepped onto the path, the portal closed behind her with a ripple, like a pond swallowing a pebble.

She suddenly smiled, eyes half-moon sly. “If I attacked you here, neither my sister nor our Lord would notice~”

…You sure?

Who ambushes who?

Yekase snorted a laugh, a spark on dry straw; Arianna’s villain-face crumpled, and she huffed and looked away like a cat losing a stare-down.

“Alright, alright, I still need you to be my guide.”

Yekase fished a lollipop from her satchel and pressed it to Arianna’s cheek like a stamp. “Apple flavor, matches your color palette.”

Arianna took the lollipop in one bite, crisp as snapping a twig.

“The wrapper! The wrapper—”

She spat the wrapper out like a seed, neat as a sparrow.

“…What the—?”

That battle-hardened tongue… terrifying, like a blade under velvet.

To hide her blush, Yekase grabbed a strawberry one for herself, clamping it between her teeth like a rose.

“The hemispheric sky-dome covers the island’s top,” Arianna said, palm sweeping like a fan. “It’s off now, so you can see outside like a clear lake.”

Yekase glanced around; beyond sun and cloud, nothing moved, blank as fresh paper. “What’s our altitude?”

“Eighteen miles.”

“Monsters in Italy use miles too?”

Eighteen miles… about thirty kilometers up, a white void above a blue bowl; no wonder there’s nothing to see.

“Spin up the dome.”

“The dome’s a core feature,” Arianna said, beckoning like a willow twig. “It needs your key. This way.”

They stopped before the island’s only building, a two-story European cottage, bright-toned, with the hand-hewn warmth of a timber hut in the snow.

Right, they’re European monsters, Yekase thought, humor like a wry cloud; of course the default decor is European—fine by me, and probably fine by Liu RuoYuan, but I don’t know if Mom will feel at home in this grain of wood.

“Two stories with a high ceiling,” Arianna recited, voice even as a level. “About one hundred sixty square meters of living space, layout as you confirmed.”

“Mm.”

They pushed in; the living room opened like a clearing, bigger than Yekase’s whole rental, and empty as a bare stage—no furniture by design, just a round stone table, so the space spilled toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, over the fence, straight into sky like a breath.

“Good daylight throughout,” Arianna said, ticking points like pearls. “Full sorcery underfloor heating, and a fixed cleaning spell rated for fifty years. Please slot your key into the central console to activate core control, like lighting a hearth.”

Yekase eyed the key, lined it up with the square slot, and pressed down, a blade into bedrock. “Sword in the Stone, huh.”

Sorcery glyphs flowed across the tabletop like streams of blue mercury, ran over floor and walls like vines, then faded like dew.

A translucent panel brightened in front of her, pale blue as glacial ice, split into four panes: Simulated Sky-Dome Control, Circulation System Control, Jump Beacon, Navigation Panel.

Arianna leaned in close, voice brushing her ear like silk. “Sky-Dome Control handles power, outward optical camouflage, and inward simulated weather, rain-to-sun at your whim.”

“Recline in the yard and use the dome as a cinema screen?”

“You can, no problem.”

Seeing Yekase’s pleased grin bloom like a flower, Arianna moved on, cadence steady as rain. “Circulation runs by default, self-adjusting like a smart breeze; Jump Beacon is the gate’s coordinates, idiot-proof, manual input or click-to-set on Navigation.”

“As expected of the biggest alchemical sky-island manufacturer,” Yekase said, approval warm as tea. “The details are mature and human.”

She’d soaked in the black market and the Organization’s R&D for years, where gear was built to just work, like tools hammered on an anvil, with cost and runtime crushed down and user experience never even sketched, so most pieces looked wasteland-rough, sandblown and brutal.

This top-shelf mech refit for Labyrinth City felt like her first step toward premium, a polished hinge in a rusty door.

Go mass-market and bespoke, both wings beating like a swallow; only then is the ecosystem healthy.

Arianna led Yekase into the basement; walls and floor wore metal plates like armor for safety, with a hangar on one side and a lab on the other, two lungs waiting to fill.

Both hangar and lab were empty now, bare earth before seed, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long—

Beep.

Arianna pressed a wall button; the far hangar wall rumbled open like thunder rolling off a cliff—

The panels split aside and formed a simple mech hatch, revealing the outside sky in a sudden bloom, cloud seas curling like white dragons.

“What the—?!”

Yekase grabbed the doorframe on instinct, knuckles white as chalk; at thirty thousand meters, the pressure gap should—

…Huh?

“The pressure… didn’t change?”

“Rest easy,” Arianna said, smiling like a lantern lighting. “The pressure barrier is the island’s last line, a shield of glassy air; it won’t drop even if the main console goes dark, guarding life to the end. But if the barrier is breached and all else fails—”

“What happens?”

“The island’s last thread of Sorcery will be spent on emergency teleport for passengers, a lifeboat of light.”

“Impressive…”

Yekase breathed the word out like steam in winter.

Then, in her gaze, a silver shape rose from below the open hatch like a fish breaking water, and hopped into the hangar with catlike ease.

“Do you like the island?” the newcomer asked, voice cool as moonlight.

…Labyrinth City?!

She parked the mech in the hangar, then flew up herself, flesh and wind, like a swan riding a thermal.

The hatch sealed behind her with a seam like a stitched scar; Labyrinth City smoothed her storm-tossed skirt and drill curls, composure returning like a mask.

“Satisfied,” Yekase said, honesty clear as glass. “So satisfied I’m considering paying extra.”

“For me, the Demon Idol refit balances the scales like a pair of golden pans,” Labyrinth City said. “Delighted to work with you, Miss Yekase.”

They shook hands, smiles meeting like sun on a blade—

“Alright, can we end the PR segment now?” Labyrinth City murmured, conspiratorial as a wink.

“We never needed it,” Yekase said, glancing at Arianna, shrugging like a loose coat. “It’s just the three of us on this island.”

“Three monsters,” Labyrinth City corrected, tone playful as a cat paw.

“Two and a half,” Yekase corrected back, dry as sand.

“Fine, two and a half.”

Then Labyrinth City seized her silver silk evening dress and tore it straight down, one rip like lightning through silk, tossed it aside like shed skin, and revealed a body carved like pale jade—matching the word “monster” in all the inconvenient ways—wearing only the most minimal silver metal, glints like leaves of armor.

These past days, while hashing engineering needs, she’d always check that no subordinates were around except her maid-sisters, then suddenly set herself free, like a bird ditching its cage; it had been blush-and-heartbeat at first, but four days later Yekase had only one thought:

This city lord has an exhibitionist streak, a magpie’s love for shine and show.

She’d even had the gown tailored with a breakaway seam, the kind you yank and it vanishes like a magic trick in an anime.

I thought she was more proper than Sandryon at first—my apologies, Master.

“Your humble self brings a housewarming gift!” Labyrinth City, bare as a newborn and unbothered as spring water, pulled a carefully wrapped box from nowhere and set it into Yekase’s hands like a magician’s dove.

Yekase untied the bow, cracked the lid—head ducking aside on reflex like grass before wind.

Pop! A water balloon sprang from the box like a frog and smacked the wall behind her, bursting into a splash like summer rain.

“Called it!”

“Tsk…”

“She clicked her tongue! She actually clicked her tongue!”

After confirming no second surprise, Yekase reached in and fished out a metal rod somehow five times longer than the box, with a small ring at each end, a baton from a clown’s hat.

The rod hummed, and a translucent panel unfurled from its side like a banner.

In flowery script and crooked Chinese characters, it read: “The Bipolar Mechbreaker.”

“Uh, I actually wanted to ask since our first meeting,” Yekase said, brow quirking like a drawn bow. “I don’t care about nicknames, but it should be the Singing Wrecking Lady. What’s with ‘Bipolar’?”

“‘Singing’?”

“Huh?”

They stared at each other, two mirrors reflecting clouds.

“I remembered wrong,” Labyrinth City said, calm as a pond.

“Oh,” Yekase said, letting it pass like a drifting leaf.

The box still wasn’t empty; Yekase drew out a glass vial full of red liquid, bright as pomegranate wine.

“This is…?”

“The heart-blood of a certain disobedient vampire Progenitor,” Labyrinth City said, casual as pouring tea. “If a human drinks it, their body will surge like spring sap, and they’ll be immune to mental interference below a Progenitor. No side effects.”

…Better not ask where that came from, Yekase thought, silence cool as shade.

If it really works, it’s at least more useful than a neon plaque with the wrong words; she didn’t need it, and it wouldn’t mean much for Ling Yi or Lu Yao, so better to re-gift it to Jiang Bailu or Shen Shanshan, a borrowed flower offered to the Buddha.

Yekase eyed the vial with a little shiver like a breeze on wet skin, then set it back in the box, quiet as closing a book.