Yekase sits in the conference room, watching Jiang Bailu and Roze through a first-person feed, the view rocking like a skiff in chop—nauseating, but bearable.

After Bailu storms the fourth floor, Roze’s eyes flare an ominous red, like ill-star lanterns, and it draws a familiar crimson blade, a boss-cutscene cue slamming the door.

No one else is around, the hall as empty as winter fields; Roze itself is the last wall, and if they don’t break it, they can’t bring it home.

On-screen, Bailu starts scattered, a kite in errant winds, then stitches guards and counters together until the tide evens, then edges their way—

Coffee Moon snaps the Sky Striker more than once and churns Roze’s armor like stormed surf; Roze floods in Flash Energy and knits itself back like ice on a pond.

Its slashes and floating cannons get sent wide, sparks drifting like fireflies; its small Flash Energy reserve bleeds from both ends, a candle burning at both tips.

Pressure forms, faint but steady, like a current under dark water.

Bailu grasps Roze’s patterns now, the heartbeat under the noise, and redirects each cut and shot like water playing off stone—her guard a bronze wall.

She threads strikes through the seams, a needle through silk; with her ESP, a brush on the frame blooms into real damage at a touch.

She’s found her way to fight, a path lit by paper lanterns in rain.

It’s only her third field mission on paper, but she holds advantage like instinct holds breath and turns it into motion and steel.

Yekase’s own style is pure field pragmatism: dodge not block on defense, and on offense, whatever lands; Bailu goes more extreme—she wagers defense and offense both on Coffee Moon.

“Ling Yi, go up to the fourth floor. Link with Bailu.”

[This side’s almost cleared out!]

No, you don’t need to clear it… forget it. Crossblade got dragged out and thrashed for a shady deal with the boss, yanked like a carp from a net.

Their brand-new Roze got snatched too—rough luck. But Yekase’s wanted Roze home for ages; the boss never let it go, then tried selling an illegally seized unit.

Trace the culprit and you reach the boss; can’t beat the boss, but can’t I beat you?

After tonight, Crossblade won’t dare hassle heroes; they’ll clutch the Management Act and chase Conglomerate X for payouts—debts return to their owners.

While Yekase’s thoughts drift like smoke, Ling Yi punches into the fourth floor, and with Bailu pins Roze like a storm pins a skiff.

Yekase said the core’s all that matters; they go in hard, rain on iron, and in moments Roze is hammered into scrap; they pull the core from its chest like coal from a kiln.

[Roze recovered. Prep to exfil!]

“Good. Lu Yao, cover. You two open a portal in the top stairwell. Watch the cameras—”

…

Jiang Bailu stills, a deer at the treeline; at the far edge of her sight, a figure steps from shadow.

“Hold up, another hostile—”

She sees who it is. Her voice snaps like a string.

“Who?” Ling Yi asks, then follows her stare—

“Know this lady’s name!”

“Praise this lady’s bearing!”

“Witness this lady’s victory!”

…

…

Silence drops like snow.

The two on site, plus Lu Yao in midair and Yekase at the monitors, all go wordless—You… you really have the face to show up?

Mikala Aila spreads her arms and strolls in from the far elevator, casual as a cat on a garden wall.

Bailu shouts, shock and dread splitting like thunder. “Boss! Did you really betray us?!”

“Crossblade paid twice Roze’s price and bought this lady’s one-week warranty. As long as this lady stands here, you’re not walking out with it!”

She’s back to calling herself “this lady,” the pendulum swinging with the same smirk.

“Enough chatter—come!”

She likely skipped the classic “Remember my name,” yet the ritual doesn’t shrink; four blazing red characters slam the ceiling like stamps on stone.

Heavenly Prison King!

Mira draws a blade and sets it on her shoulder like a beam; Ling Yi and Jiang Bailu tighten their stances like drawn bows.

“Oh—Bailu, stand down. If you help her, don’t come to work tomorrow.”

“What?! Abuse of power! That’s abuse of power!”

“Do you want this month’s paycheck or not?”

“Uuugh…”

Bailu weighs it like grass in wind, then backs to the window she came through and flips into the night air.

“—Bailu-jie?!”

Isn’t this where you refuse with steel in your voice—like MAYA, cleanly cutting the past?

Ling Yi stares as Bailu yields to the Sinister Organization’s pressure, until her figure slips out of sight, leaving only two hands on the sill.

“Come on. Show me your growth after six months.”

Mira stomps once, the floor ringing like a drum; the blade on her shoulder stretches into a greatsword half a person wide, black Mind Energy flames coiling like snakes.

Compared to the water park, she’s not holding back; from Crossblade’s view, she’s a model ally—honest, reliable, terrifying as thunder.

“Don’t talk like we’re close!”

Ling Yi opens with Blazing Rekindle; Mira doesn’t dodge or blink—she takes it straight to the chest, flat as a board, and eats the fire like iron.

“First Form—”

“—Hindrance Ripples!”

That blank-form Blazing Rekindle was a feint by design; before the flames settle, Ling Yi swaps in Dew and sends the real technique.

It can’t quench Mira’s black Mind Energy, but it can break her rhythm, which is enough to turn a tide.

“Hm? All tricks and quick hands…”

Mira’s first slash cuts air; she clicks her tongue, then explodes off her planted foot like a sprung trap.

In a blink she crosses twenty meters, toe-taps the floor, and swings the black blade from behind her, a guillotine of weight aimed dead-on.

The cut is plain as stone; the blade’s thick as a slab, more iron than sword, and the downstroke suffocates like a mountain’s shadow.

Ling Yi refuses to flinch; she lifts the Sky Striker to meet it, lightning bracing for storm.

Against the nameless black blade, Sky Striker looks like a slim fire poker; the difference feels like river versus sea.

Clang—!!

Red and black edges meet, each wrapped in like-colored flame; the impact hammers a spiderweb five meters wide, tiles leaping like fish.

Ling Yi’s boosters bite, halting her slide with blue fire on stone; Mira stomps deeper and pins herself into the floor, an iron stake in shale.

“Good. Good!”

Mira laughs, bright as a bell, twists her right foot deeper into brick, turns her torso, and carves a low arc at the ground.

“Third Form—”

A whiff? No—wrong read—

She uses the black blade as an axis, mule-kicks the ground, and rockets up like a tossed spear; distance resets, then vanishes under a leap.

In midair she spins, wrenches the greatsword up, and throws person and blade down together, weight and motion wed, all of it aimed at Ling Yi.

“—Springwater!”

This cut cannot be blocked; Ling Yi’s honed instinct screams like a siren—stand there and she’ll be cleaved with the world.

Her body moves first, a near-ground dash that skims like a swallow; the cut bites her thruster plume.

Boom!!

The cracked floor can’t bear it and shatters like dry crust; the whole level shakes, a drum of stone, fissures racing like frost over walls and pillars.

Then it all crushes; Crossblade’s base loses an entire floor to a quake-like roar, a cake with a slice gone.

“…Guh.”

To dodge the fourth-floor ceiling, Ling Yi drops to the height of the former third, the atrium rim; she looks down at Mira centered below and swallows dry.

The slow rise of that greatsword back to shoulder is like sunrise over a ridge; it feels like a god in a gap, and dodging alone empties the lungs.

[Ling Yi, status inside? If it’s no good, pull out. She can’t catch you. The core’s recovered—]

“Can’t win… I can’t even parse it…!”

Ling Yi plants the Sky Striker upright; her right hand presses the spine; Flash Energy cycles between body and blade like a tide syncing heart and edge.

[Code-01!]

[Code-04!]

A crimson “01” hangs to her right like a seal; a crystal-blue “04” glows to her left like ice; armor modules assemble in order, floating like guardian stars.

“Flashblade Activation—”

“Oh? Finally getting serious.”

Mira watches from below, chin up like a hawk; there’s no annoyance, only joy rising like heat.

“But—Fourth Form, Stars!”

A bolt of black light, condensed to the limit, rips up like a spear from a night sea; Ling Yi doesn’t look away.

The plain white sigils circling her flare like sudden snow, condense into an energy orb, and force the black light to detonate a meter early.

[KAGARI-SHIZUKU!]

[R U Ready?]

“Cross-Flash!”

Form change complete; red and blue armor locks over ZEROS’s blank shell, her presence doubling like wind turning gale.

Ling Yi grips the Sky Striker and dives, a two-colored comet aimed at Mira.

Outside, the window ledge shattered, so Coffee Moon carries Jiang Bailu in a hover; she watches in night wind and recalls like counting beads.

“First Form ‘Light,’ Second Form ‘Dusk,’ Third Form ‘Springwater,’ Fourth Form ‘Stars’… Doctor, what’s the boss’s sword style?”

[She learned it from a fighter named Ling Youguang. Seven constructs in total, cribbing the creation story. I don’t love the heavy religious naming.]

“Ling… don’t tell me—?!”

[Yeah. Ling Yi’s father. During the One-Year War, he trained the Magical Girls in close combat. But this signature sword art, only Mira learned.]

“He didn’t teach his own daughter, and taught an outsider…”

[There was no ‘insider’ or ‘outsider’ then. If you can’t beat the exoforms, humans vanish. Borders mean nothing.]

Bailu pauses, then speaks soft as a lantern in fog. “Once you’ve seen humans blaze, you grieve deeper when the same crowd falls. That’s why you miss the past, right?”

…

[…I don’t miss it. Do you miss senior year of high school?]