Baroque Studio.

Three childhood friends from North Germany built a small studio after graduation, like a little forge lit in a cold wind.

Without funding, they started on the most grassroots of Neptune Energy; soon it got booted from the ranks of Infinite Power, hopes like a paper kite cut loose.

On the brink of layoffs, they pivoted to hybrid Omega Ray and Sorcery energy, keeping the studio afloat like a raft scraping winter currents—until Flash Energy hit daylight.

Unlike other well-known Infinite Power, the newcomer Flash Energy was a complete riddle, name to method.

Yet Professor Luciferin could’ve minted patents like gold leaves; she simply published the formula.

A particle collider was pricey, but compared to paying rent on Infinite Power patents, it felt like a gift tossed on the river.

Beyond reputation, in that video, in Yekase’s eyes, they saw something else, like embers under ash.

It was fire, burning clean, and a hope that pointed forward like dawn.

So the studio’s nominal lead, Bismarck—nicknamed Beard by his two friends—spent their last savings on a collider.

He poured their hybrid-energy experience into Flash Energy and Sorcery, like a river breaking its bank.

All because of the black-clad goth girl at his side, a mysterious Infinite Power engineer from the East, like night walking with incense.

She smashed their rice bowl, then showed them a new road, like clearing a ruined bridge to reveal a mountain path.

Every move she made in academia rang like the bell of the age.

After casually finishing all that, she appeared at Arcana Week, at their booth, and bought their new product—

Yekase didn’t pry at Bismarck’s feelings; she simply invited, steady as a lantern:

“You’re my first official partners. Come with me, to my lab.”

...

Then she reached out her hand, like offering a bridge over mist.

She said, “Come with me.” Even in pure probability, refusal no longer existed, like a coin predestined to land heads.

“To make it friendly, we need open source and thrift—cut costs further. Thrift can sink into subcircuits like roots; opening the source is still foggy. What’s your main track?”

Yekase rummaged in a teleport crate for her missing ID, words drifting like steam.

“Uh—yeah, dual-hybrid work!” His voice wobbled like a loose screw.

“You’re spaced out,” Yekase said, smiling like spring sun.

“Sorry... I was thinking about Hellshake Yano.”

Who the hell is Hellshake Yano?! The thought popped like a firecracker.

Bismarck roasted himself inside; Yekase hadn’t asked, no need for excuses, so why did his mouth spill it like a toppled kettle?!

“Hell...shake?” Her syllables felt like tasting a foreign spice.

See? She’s puzzled! His hope flickered like a candle.

Next comes doubt—spacing out during market talk, questioning the studio’s chops, and this once-in-a-lifetime deal goes up in smoke, like rain snuffing a festival fire—

“A rock band? Sorry, I don’t know much Western music.” Her tone was gentle as tea.

...

An angel—she’s an angel, mercy like soft wings.

Christians often brand pagans and unbelievers as demons.

The woman before him was gentle and learned, like moonlight.

She was nothing like the rumored “Lord of Beasts”—slaughtering church knights in a blink, cold as iron.

Yekase pushed the lab door and led Bismarck into the prep room, where work clothes hung like paper cranes.

“Music-wise I like folk and spell-rap... ah, never mind—let’s change.” Her words folded like a fan.

Work clothes—lab coats, plus disposable caps, gloves, masks.

The collider was live now; dust control rose like a stern gate.

Bismarck shrank a bit. “I’m oily with machine grease; I’ll stain the coat,” like a stray cat at the threshold.

“Work clothes exist to get dirty. Your machines will move in here; better to adapt early, like seedlings to a greenhouse.”

“We never cared much about environment in past builds, right?” Old habits felt like roadside stalls.

“That’s because your products matched what I can do on a home desk—no need for fuss.

To reach the frontier, a clean room is a must, like silk around a blade.”

Yekase said it lightly, like dropping a pebble in a still pond.

“Wha—”

On a home desk?!

No need for care?!

“Even you, Professor—saying that—” His words tangled like thread.

“Oh, because I did build hero gadgets in a rental for over a year.

Ask the user how it felt to hand-unfold a folding thruster,” like prying a rusty hinge.

“Uh...” His jaw hung like a loose door.

What’s happening? His filter shattered like colored glass.

The filter seemed to crack, a little, like glaze chipping.

Yekase kept pouring out her black history.

“I made heaps of useless junk to sell on the black market.

I pitched security toys to shops just harassed by fighters.

When cash dried up, I robbed the Sinister Organization’s warehouse,” like flipping old scars under lamp light.

“Eh?” His eyebrows jumped like springs.

Wait—respect, respect—slipping like sand.

Bismarck’s big beard began to tremble, like grass in a sudden wind!

If Yekase could hear his thoughts, she’d be stunned—the arc matched how she met Sandryon, almost beat for beat, like two rivers finding the same gorge.

When I grew up, I became you, like echo meeting voice.

Yekase showed Bismarck the collider and other gear, plus a few fresh gadgets.

By then, dusk pooled like ink.

They met the studio’s other two and ate at a burger joint called “I Preach.”

Liu RuoYuan had recommended it—said the signature pineapple-honey lamb burger was top-tier.

Yekase felt spooked, so she brought a few clueless scapegoats to test the poison, like leading ducks into cloudy water.

Scapegoat No. 2 reeked of booze.

“Hi, Professor! Call me Fronto.

I was on the second floor—maybe—searched around and found no bar.

Any recommendations?” His words staggered like a drunk sparrow.

Scapegoat No. 3 had dark-red bangs masking half her face.

She said nothing; she just nodded, like a quiet bell.

Bismarck said, “Kate’s shy. Give her time and she talks plenty,” like a tea flower opening.

Yekase booked a private room.

The four sat; Bismarck and Fronto huddled over the projector menu.

Kate popped a cola without a word, like a little fountain.

“This place recommends the pineapple-honey lamb burger,” Yekase said, on cue, like dropping bait.

“Oh, then let’s get one,” Fronto took the slope, like a cart rolling.

“It looks a bit off...” Bismarck hesitated, but a host wouldn’t lie; he ordered too, like stepping onto a swaying boat.

First goal achieved, Yekase opened the Infinite Power talk—so even if they couldn’t stomach it later, they wouldn’t cut the formal chat, like fish caught on a silver line.

“Our biggest issue now is Flash Energy output lagging demand.

Some firms have long-run Flash Energy lines, but efficiency still chokes them like a noose.”

“Keep this up, dev costs stay high, most mechanic-users drift away.

Even speculators won’t linger—the open-source project can’t be hyped; they’ll pump colliders instead,” like leaves drifting off a tree.

“You three at Baroque Studio feel this, right?

How much have collider prices climbed since last year?

Middlemen don’t mind strangling an industry for profit.

Only no profit makes them turn away, like crows leaving a barren field.”

Bismarck frowned and nodded, like a stone admitting rain.

Yekase smiled.

“Luckily, I’ve got a new finding—still unverified—that may break this stalemate.

And luckily, I met you,” like a skylight cut in storm clouds.

All three shivered at that, like strings plucked sharp.

In all these years, no one had ever said that to Baroque Studio, like a snowfall finally reaching a parched field.

“Why trust a small studio like us? We only just met, right?” His doubt rose like mist.

“Because your ‘Morph Templates’ offer a fresh design path.

In an age where few know the tie between Infinite Power and Ancient Alchemy, you already explored using the array’s nature to fix coordinates.

So I think you can pioneer the future as mechanics,” like plotting stars on a dark canvas.

Pioneer... the future?! The word blazed like a banner.

When had the three ever heard praise like that, like thunder on a clear day?

And it came from Professor Luciferin—a titan of the new era’s Infinite Power, like a seal stamped in vermilion.

Seeing their eyes shine—even Kate’s pretty blue eyes peeking out from her bangs—Yekase knew she’d sold it... well, not a con.

Once you join, you’re comrades, like sparks catching dry kindling.

“Dear tovarishch! I’ve got a tough mission for you now,” her voice rang like a drum.

Bismarck straightened in a snap, like a bow tensed.

“Yes! Mission will be completed!” His vow struck like steel.

Yekase glanced at Fronto and Kate.

They nodded, faces grave, like soldiers before dawn.

“Soon I’ll be busy with other important things. The heavy task of boosting output falls to you.

Back at the lab, I’ll hand you unpublished material—about a trinity of Flash Energy, Mind Energy, and Soul Power. It should help,” like handing maps across a river.

“A trinity...” The words hovered like a halo.

Bismarck chewed the term, then snapped back.

“What with what forms the trinity?!” His shock popped like sparks.

“Flash Energy, Mind Energy, and Soul Power—three super-type Infinite Power—should share one equation.

The only difference is the choice of environmental constant E,” like three rivers feeding one sea.

“Push it broader, and someday all Infinite Power will collapse into one simple formula, like a single stroke carving a tablet.”

...

The small room fell silent, like snow falling on bamboo.

After a while, Bismarck asked, voice trembling like a reed:

“Professor... do you know what you’re saying?” His breath fogged like winter glass.

“I’m speaking of Infinite Power’s future.” Her words were a torch.

“You know what happens once this is proven and published?” The question rose like a storm front.

“The future will come into our hands,” like rain cupped by palms.

“Are you... ready to lead us—lead humanity—to witness that unknown future?” like opening a gate into fog.

“I’ve been ready for a long time,” her certainty stood like a mountain.

Yekase answered without a hitch, like an arrow released.

A knock, the door opened, and the server carried in four burgers, bringing half a minute of quiet like a cloud passing the sun.

When she left, Yekase spoke the other half:

“Because we must approach truth—and make it equally near to everyone,” like river water shared by all shores.