“…The little girl from the Crimson Field house.”

Risa Chubu arched a brow. “You only met her once in the Special Zone, right? Worth trading a piece of intel?”

Of course she’d question that.

After a few exchanges, Yekase sketched Risa Chubu’s outline in her head. Emotion first, action second—admiration smoldered, then she filed it away.

Risa was aflame for mechs and spacefaring—willing to take losses, offer uneven terms, just to push research forward. That pioneering will was steady as a lighthouse in fog.

But beyond that, she was a pure-bred organization head—every tool of cold ascent sharpened for a society the Sinister Organization steered like a storm-tossed ship.

The two sides didn’t clash. They braided.

Yekase had dealt with every kind of member for too long. When leverage sat openly on the table like steel on velvet, it felt clean—interest draws truth from shadows. If there’s profit, they’re honest. If not, they’ll lie.

She knew it in her bones: ah, she’s not a good person—so you strip out feeling and ideals, and build a temporary bridge.

“I promised someone I’d get her home. Safe.”

Yekase kept it simple.

Risa didn’t answer. She simply nodded, like a pebble tipping into a still pond. She opened a carved snack box on the coffee table, drew out a thin baked wafer, bit down—crack—then gestured for Yekase to take one too.

And Yekase, facing her across the table, naturally…

Naturally never says no to free food.

Silence pooled. On impulse, they hosted a wafer-tasting in the 404 Presidential Suite. Only the up-and-down rhythm of chewing moved the air like small waves against the glass.

Top-tier ocean-view suite, top-tier service—the taste really was… pretty great.

“…About Crimson Field—there’s something you might not know.”

“Mm?”

“We’ve been partners for a long time. This Representative Match is actually a live stage to showcase our new five‑meter engineering mech.”

“You working with them was guessable. We just had no proof…”

…Wait. The five‑meter mech is Chubu’s?

So the mech carrying off Shuangyu and Yekase was planned in concert—but the armored solo trooper who showed up after—

“The Crimson Field—”

“Right. Infighting inside the Crimson Field house hasn’t stopped for six years. The girl you want was likely taken by an uncle or elder who entered the fray. That’s outside our interest. I’ve no reason to lie. Believe me or don’t.”

“…!”

It fit. To demo the mech’s mobility and plating, Risa staged a crowd grab. Then a mystery armor cut them off, flipping the showcase into negative PR—unlikely something she ordered.

“How about this: I’ll halt all tasks, focus the search on the girl’s trail. The Special Zone’s finite. We should have results within a day. Miss Yekase, bear with me—let’s draft the research alliance right here.”

She didn’t wait for Yekase. One call, and orders rippled outward like birds scattering.

She’d gone that far; Yekase could only agree. She was a Flash Energy Ascender—if Luciferin broke, she’d fix it on the spot. One rigged fight for a contractually bound ally? Bargain of the season.

She wasn’t some zealot of procedural justice. If the end is good, the pageant’s whatever.

Risa raised a hand and tapped her head-ring. The Stellar Crown’s gentle blue gathered to a bright point above her brow, then spilled a blank document onto the coffee table like moonlight on paper. Her fingertaps kept a steady tempo; text blossomed, one line Japanese, one line Chinese, crisp as etched glass.

“My ‘Star Relics’ series was built for offworld development. The Star Staff is a laser miner. The Star Spear’s a rock breaker. The Star Shield blocks meteors.”

“…The Star Ark is a ship. The Star Armor is a planetary shell.”

“You’ve read up?” Risa smiled. “When I look at the night sky, there’s a strange calm, and endless drive. It pulls me out of the Sinister Organization’s world for a breath. So I think—maybe one day humanity will learn war is pointless. Then we’ll fly to the stars together… The Star Relics are for that day.”

“I see.”

So that’s her heart…

Good, but not saintly. Bad, but not damned. That’s this world’s norm. Every organization rips at civilians and each other like wolves—so it becomes ordinary, like weather. Fang Tang’s sacrifice roused Huaxia, but other lands still sleep.

Yekase wanted to be a lighthouse. Could she blame someone fog-bound by the horizon? At least Risa felt the wrongness, and yearned toward a future without war.

“Star Relics…”

“We’re going to space someday. When that day comes, I want to be the Pioneer of the Stars.”

Risa spoke that chunni vow without stumbling, then let the mood lighten. “By the way, I heard you took down the Crescent Puppeteer in Europe?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“And kicked up temporal noise. The old scholars of the Alchemy Association went feral. Side note—I back parallel universe theory.”

“Me too.”

“Looks like we’ve got more than mechs to talk about, Sword Destroying Mechanic.”

……

“What now?”

Yekase froze. The half wafer nearly slipped from her fingers.

“Your Archmagus title?”

Risa froze too. Her tapping fingers stalled midair.

“Archmagus?”

The wafer fell silently into the carpet pile, swallowed by the sea of blue.

Yekase scrambled, blew it off, took another bite, words slurred through crumbs. “How am I an Archmagus? No one told me!”

“They didn’t send an envoy?!”

“……”

Yekase dug through memory like turning drawers. In a dull corner she found a thread: about a week after France’s liberation—around the days she visited Annie—someone in traditional mage robes came to Arcadia Engineering Academy… but she was neck‑deep finishing the Mobile Castle’s wiring. She thought it was the mana‑core faction looking for trouble and told the Dragons to shoo them away.

Shooed them away…

The envoy was probably there to ask what title she wanted. A gold chance to ditch ‘Mechbreaker’—wasted.

—Wait. How did they even know Yekase was the Mechbreaker?

‘Yekase’ had never been public. The execution broadcast said Mechbreaker; the Flash Energy papers were signed ‘Luciferin’. In Europe, she muddied names further—day to day she was Professor Luciferin. To Huaxia’s public, the black‑haired, red‑eyed Mechbreaker was hung in March; Europeans might not know what a Mechbreaker is. Shadow Curtain International’s upper deck knew the truth, but Gu Xiangshi kept his word—no intent to blow it wide.

The Alchemy Association monopolized Ancient Alchemy, so maybe they keep tight, quiet ties to Shadow Curtain International—and learned through that channel?

No. To verify anything, you need a spark—some link to suspect. No normal person checks if Liu Bei was an alien—even if he was. The gap between Luciferin and Mechbreaker was as vast as Liu Bei and ‘alien.’

Why did Yekase wear alts? To split the deeds across masks.

So two possibilities:

One: someone in the Alchemy Association thinks sideways, rolls a nat‑inspiration, and sees through Yekase’s flimsy disguise.

Two…

Sandryon, one of the Archmagi, gets called into a meeting. They’re debating a title for the newcomer, Miss Luciferin. He’s bored, so he opens his mouth: “Luciferin? My badass student. Know Huaxia’s Mechbreaker? That’s her.”

The more Yekase thought, the more it fit. She even heard Sandryon’s tone in her mind.

Done is done. Calling Sandryon to rage now wouldn’t fix it. Yekase bowed to the wafer.

After one full piece, her mood was sorted. She looked up. “So being ranked an Archmagus—what’s the upside?”

“Top‑tier access in the Alchemy Association. Free entry to the Great Library in Antarctica.”

The Great Library? Not as good as Jixia’s archive… Comprehensive, but being able to pop in anytime is sweet.

“Wow. How do I get there?”

“With a Great Library key portal. The envoy… well, obviously didn’t deliver yours. After the Representative Match, go to Association HQ and ask.”

The alliance draft now ran halfway. Arcadia Engineering Academy as Party A; Chubu Tech as Party B. Party A would provide all unpublished Flash Energy and hybrid energy research. Party B would deliver the Star Relics schematics and data in a packed bundle—that’s the baseline exchange. Then joint research at Arcadia, focus on space development; if lines are crossed, Party A can demand a stop anytime.

First item: unify basic component specs between the Star Ark and the Mobile Castle testbed, so future models can share parts like rivers sharing the sea.

Reading the contract, Risa’s sincerity was palpable, like warmth through glass.

Yekase glanced up at her.

…Huh?

When did the window behind Risa open?

“Is there anything in the draft you dislike, Miss Yekase?” Risa asked, puzzled.

“No, it’s your back…”

Yekase raised a hand toward the window.

—Then she saw a hand.

Not Risa’s tapping right hand, but another rising from behind her—another person’s hand.

……

“—Careful!”

Too late to cast. Yekase planted a foot on the coffee table, sprinted along the projection like stepping stones, and lunged for Risa. Mid‑air, she saw the hand’s owner—

Crimson Field Shuangyu!

No armor, no weapon—so Infinite Force Perception felt no ripple. She’d used an old‑school grappling hook and rope to climb to the eighth floor!

“You—”

Shuangyu saw Yekase diving and met her eyes. No timid doubt, no usual skittishness—only ice set by a decision that cut like winter.

She snatched the Stellar Crown and tore it off Risa’s head. The half‑written contract blinked out like a star going dark.

No lock?!

Feature polished to brilliance, look slick as starlight, and it gets yanked off in one go?! So… a Japanese car—

Shuangyu moved like she’d done this a hundred times—fluid, fast. She flipped and slipped out the window. Yekase rushed to the sill, looked down, and saw… nothing. Vanished into the city’s currents.

“…Tch!”

Like Yekase hiding her own edge, Shuangyu had hidden hers too—and used the Tower’s locator to find them.

She didn’t know her brother had gone to settle accounts with the family. She didn’t need to fight anymore. She didn’t need to win this Representative Match.

“The Stellar Crown’s Infinite Power density is high enough to serve as reverse tracking… You alright?”

Yekase stepped back into the room to check Risa’s state.

…?

Risa had folded into the sofa, still as a statue. Arms wrapped her legs. Face buried in her knees, like a moonflower closing at dawn.

“I’ll get it back for you, you—”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

“—Eh?!”

"It's all my fault—the agreement went down the drain."

"I'm always ringed by bodyguards; I never imagined the Stellar Crown could be snatched, like a hawk dropping from a cloudless sky."

"I'm terribly sorry for the trouble; please forgive the ripple I sent through your waters."

"I'll set a date, hold a press conference, and take my own life under a cold moon..."

"Wait, wait—?! Thunder from a clear sky!"