The reason Yekase suddenly started splurging was simple, like a coin flipping in sunlight.

Sponsoring a small studio could be reimbursed by Bangli University, a river of funds flowing back.

If the studio got accepted, there was a bonus waiting, like a ripe fruit within reach.

She drifted through more stalls, a stream of scents and colors, bought a fistful of snacks, then returned to the fortune-teller’s tent to fetch Yin.

Yin came out with red eyes, like dawn clouds after rain.

“If you still feel like browsing, we can check the front.”

“Mm.”

Her voice sounded brighter, like glass catching the sun. Yekase heard it and handed over a stick of food.

“Grilled squid?”

“No, grilled tentacle.”

“Tentacle…?”

“Domesticated tentacle.”

“???”

Yekase had only learned in Europe that these tentacles were brought back by the French from the coastline’s Cosmic Bubble, like flotsam from a drowned sky.

Each tentacle was a separate creature, with no eyes or ears, sensing space through a pineal-like organ, a quiet lantern of perception.

They wriggled lazily like cats, soft pink bodies like cotton candy, so many people—especially single young women—kept them as pets; kitchen scraps kept them alive, simple as rain watering moss.

The meat was springy and sweet, and they reproduced asexually, easy to scale, so beyond the home they quickly climbed onto dinner tables across nations.

“Tastes exactly like squid…” Yin said, chewing like a metronome beating memory.

“But it’s the last shadow of a world already destroyed,” Yekase replied, eyes distant like a lighthouse. “In that cosmos, civilization rose, flourished, then fell.

Every epoch there no longer touches us, and we’ll never know their songs.

Only these tentacles remain, captured, farmed, grilled to gold.

Thinking of that—doesn’t it feel impossible and vast, like a horizon inside a teacup?”

“…Feels like…” Yin fumbled for an old metaphor, gears stiff with rust. “Using dinosaur fossils to prop a table leg?”

“Like bathing in an ice comet,” Yekase said, her smile a thin crescent.

“Sounds exhausting.”

“I saw it in a novel. Next chance I’ll try it, then write you a field report.”

Bitterness tightened Yin’s chest like winter rope. So you already come and go in cosmic space freely? On par with that person now…

Why did Super Paths evolve every second like wildfire, while Real Paths moved like stones under a stream?

Was it time to surrender to idealism?

“You’re thinking why the Real Path looks like a lower substitute for the Super Path, right?” Yekase asked, voice steady like a plumb line.

“…Yes.”

“Super Paths embody turbulent energy,” she said, finishing a tentacle and sketching a round in the air with the skewer, like a moon chalked on blue.

“Imagine a world where humans study Flash Energy single-mindedly, and build an interstellar republic spanning the galaxy.

Ten thousand years later, one fluctuation with no warning wipes them out, like a sudden frost on green fields.”

Yin put herself in that scene, heart racing like wings. “Already a galactic republic, and no force to resist?

Even if machines fail, those who ascended through Flash Energy can survive in space.

They could start over.”

“In theory, yes,” Yekase said, shaking her head, hair drifting like dark reeds. “But they didn’t.

Their minds held only one thought—escape—aboard Flash Energy ships.”

“Why…” The question hung like fog.

Facing the failure of Flash Energy, escaping on Flash Energy? That shouldn’t work.

Did they have no other Infinite Powers? Maybe they truly didn’t.

“Because they’d evolved to the limit,” Yekase said, voice low like a bell muted by cloth. “They stopped choosing their direction, and let evolution drag them.

They became slaves to Flash Energy.”

Usually, when she spoke of tragedies, Yekase kept a cool distance, a windowpane between her and the storm.

This time, she sounded like someone telling a hidden history she’d breathed, a memory that burned like a coal.

She kept saying “there’s such a world”… Could that world have really stood somewhere?

“That’s the Super Path’s flaw,” she continued. “Its influence on thought runs deep and quiet, like a dye bleeding under the skin.

Even I, a specialist against memetic pollution, can’t avoid some drift.

Left unchecked, you discard the other five forms of Infinite Power.

Tools slide into faith without you noticing.

All three Super Paths share this trait. I call it exclusivity.”

“Slaves to Flash Energy…” Yin repeated, the phrase heavy as wet cloth.

“But the Real Path doesn’t come with those side effects,” Yekase said. “Sorcery and Omega Ray stay tools, like hammers and lenses.

Even the Magus Crucible Order, who worship magic, don’t swear to live and die with the Newton Baseplate.

That’s the difference.”

Yin listened, and understanding settled like dust after a storm.

The Super Path forecast a civilization’s ceiling, a sky drawn in fire.

The Real Path held its floor, a foundation poured to last.

You won’t beat their peak, but you shore the bottom.

You split your focus just enough to resist the Super Path’s memetic sway.

Yekase was no exception. She studied magic on purpose, gathered flashy gear and odd skills, made her system a hotchpotch.

She used chaos like a bell that kept her from sinking too deep.

Yin finished one tentacle, thoughts still orbiting Infinite Power.

She slipped the skewer into the plastic bag tucked in Yekase’s arm, then took a second, the move smooth as a sparrow stealing seeds.

Watching her, Yekase wondered what she’d be without that incident.

Maybe a carefree big kid, hand in hand with a dear sister, fighting crime under neon—

Wait, that’s basically a bigger Ling Yi.

Though Ling Yi has no older siblings.

They turned a corner into a manicured pocket garden, hedges trimmed like chess pieces.

In the center, someone had raised a huge screen, a white sail showing a movie to passing feet.

From the speakers on both sides came a line: “At least, in every dying instant, I can still see the dazzling world—and you—”

…What kind of nonsense was this?

Did Banana Boulevard just get flash-blinded?

Onscreen, a plank drifted on the sea, slate-green and endless.

A man wrapped in blue flames let go of a woman’s hand and sank slowly, like a star going under.

Beside it, the title read The Ailian Qincheng.

Oh wow. First time I’ve seen someone drown while running a Mind Energy boost.

Also, isn’t Ailian Qincheng a sky rail?

Then the film rolled credits like a waterfall of names.

Yin seemed interested, then looked regretful once it ended. “It’s adapted from the Ailian Qincheng incident.

Latest worst film. Big investment, heavy VFX.”

Huh. You really keep tabs on this stuff.

…So staying holed up in your room was for sneaking bad movies?

Shock flickered in Yekase’s eyes, and the half-bitten fried silkworm pupae almost fell.

“…I don’t watch that often.”

“So you do watch them!”

That’s when the benefit of swapping masks shows. Yin lifted her leg and stomped Yekase with her boot heel, a sharp punctuation mark.

Yekase dodged by changing the topic, then jabbed at the movie. “This director takes too much for granted.

Mind Energy isn’t that weak—it’s Huaxia’s national Infinite Power.”

“Then how come you don’t use it?”

“You don’t either.”

“…”

“…”

Damn.

Two people who follow their hearts but lack affinity fell into instant nihilism, like walking off a curb you didn’t see.

How could it be like this?

Another reason to study the Real Path.

“But think about it,” Yekase pushed on. “Luzhixing debuted at half-ascension and she’s still stuck there.

That means she’s been going against her heart as deep cover for years.”

“I know.”

You know, and you still carry that iron bitterness!

No good. Killing the vibe isn’t part of her corruption—it’s her innate superpower.

Yekase stopped fishing for topics, and they strolled in silence, the crowd a tide around their island.

They finished the barbecue, then bought two huge bags of magic cake at a roadside stall, each gnawing one like winter wolves.

Chocolate filled every layer between the sponge; thick ice-cream cream wrapped the outside; rainbow glaze dripped on top like carnival rain.

Judging by looks alone, the calories equaled a single shot of a Special Beam Cannon, a sun punched through a wall.

But because they were magical constructs, they were all zero-cal.

Sorcery was incredible. Truly.

Yekase wanted to keep grazing. Her gaze locked on a sugar-paint stall ahead, syrup glinting like amber.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a dragonfly tapping water.

It was Ling Yi.

“Hey, Doc? We found a suspicious person!”

“Huh?”

A suspicious person… Right, we said someone would try to stir trouble.

I got too happy and forgot.

“What’s the situation?”

“Dorothy saw someone in a red robe,” Ling Yi said, her voice quick like gravel skittering. “They walked two streets with the crowd and bought nothing!”

“Maybe they just didn’t want to buy anything?”

“They didn’t even glance at the stalls. Just kept their head down and rushed. Do people like that exist?”

“Don’t rush. Send me your location.”

Red robe—could be that woman calling herself the War Sovereigns Curse.

She’s the leader but fights herself, so showing up in Soville City isn’t strange.

Let’s scan with Infinite Force Perception for high Sorcery concentrations.

An invisible ripple spread out, like wind moving tall grass—

Yekase clutched her head and dropped into a squat, stars popping behind her eyes.

“What’s wrong?!” Yin moved behind her, parting the crowd like a prow cutting waves.

“Forgot this place is full of Infinite Power artifacts…”

One sweep almost fried my CPU.

Dizzy, Yekase reached for Yin’s arm. Her hand caught the hem of Yin’s pleated skirt instead.

Yin shrieked and slapped her face, quick as a sparrow strike.

Yekase covered the sting and staggered to the curb where the press thinned.

“Sorry. Reflex,” Yin said, apology soft as ribbon.

“It’s fine…” Yekase slumped by the lamp base, the metal cool like river stone.

She opened the location Ling Yi sent and answered, voice barely breathing.

“You’re so full of energy. As a comrade, I’m proud.”