With Dixue and Maria leading like lanterns in mist, the collaborator registration went through like a stream over smooth stones.

No labyrinth of paperwork rose like brambles; the Rangers Lodge terminal simply recorded Yue Liuyi’s magic trace, a signature etched like frost on glass, impossible to forge.

“This is Miss Yue Liuyi’s collaborator proof,” Maria said, voice warm as a hearth flame. “With this, any branch of the Rangers Lodge will aid you like shelter in rain.”

“Thanks!” Yue accepted a translucent azure card that rippled like a pond, cool as moonlit water where her fingers brushed it.

“If Little Yue’s a collaborator now, we can ask the Rangers Lodge for support right away, right?” Her hope fluttered like a sparrow in spring.

“Of course.” With a matron’s calm smile, Maria drew a small pipe like a crescent from her bosom, set it to her lips, and breathed steady as tea steam. “What intel do you need? As support director, I’ll back you like a mountain.”

“Um… anything on Rainbow Valley?” Yue’s voice trembled like a plucked string. “I’m chasing a treasure called the Eternal Tear, said to be hidden in the Rainbow Sanctuary like a pearl in a storm.”

She looked to Maria with eyes bright as dew, while her past search felt like sifting ash; aside from a flat map of the Gray Fortress, she’d gained nothing but wind-blown dust.

Too few came back alive from the Rainbow Sanctuary, like fireflies snuffed by night, and fewer still shared what they saw like guarded winter seeds.

“Rainbow Valley, hm?” Maria’s gaze sharpened like a hawk over wheat. “It’s been restless as thunder lately, but… we’ll manage.”

“Really!?” Yue’s joy burst like sunlight through cloud.

“Mm.” Maria nodded, composed as a still lake. “I’ll need time to compile; I’ll store everything in a magic book like ink set to starlight, and to do that I must start the Alchemy Workshop.”

“The Alchemy Workshop! Ah—are we printing a new book?” Yue’s curiosity rose like steam from broth.

Turning the computer’s binary into magic script parsed by magelight candles took crafts layered like lacquer, and the Workshop was the kiln at the heart of it.

“Yes, for secrecy’s sake.” Dixue sat to one side like a white crane on a branch. “This book’s for Little Yue alone, and only her card will open it like a key under moonlight.”

“Oh…” Yue’s breath fell like a leaf.

“I’ll compile now,” Maria said, voice brisk as a bell. “It won’t take long… while you wait, Miss Dixue and Miss Yue, feel free to play outside like swallows in clear sky.”

“Eh? The arcade? But I’m broke…” Yue patted her pockets, the emptiness cold as a winter gourd.

“No need to pay,” Maria laughed, eyes tilting like a fox’s. “Family plays free—and besides…”

She glanced at Yedie Snow, who peeked at Yue like a shy lotus, and let an ambiguous smile bloom like a rose. “Enjoy your games.”

…

Inside the Phantom Plume Arcade, machines gleamed like constellations, and because it was morning, the place felt open as a tide-drawn shore with no queues in sight.

“What do you like, Little Yue?” Dixue’s voice chimed like wind-bells. “It’s a rare chance—let’s play together.”

“House of Horrors!” The words leapt out like a cat from reeds.

“Huh!?” Dixue froze, her smile stiffening like icing in frost.

“Ah—no, the claw machine…” Yue winced, realizing her slip like a pebble hitting still water; House of Horrors used a full-dive helm and threw you into an undead world like winter swallowing a village.

For a boy that craving felt like firewood to flame, but for a “girl,” it came off a bit wild, like thunder in silk.

“House of Horrors… didn’t expect you that bold, Little Yue,” Dixue murmured, amusement drifting like mist.

“No, no… I love claw machines too,” Yue said, voice soft as feathers on snow.

“In that case, we’ll do the House of Horrors first, then the claw machine,” Dixue decided, lifting a fist like a sprout breaking earth.

“Okay…” Yue’s answer floated like a blue ribbon.

Helmets on, Yue Liuyi and Yedie Snow stepped into the game like divers into star-deep water, the Sky Voyager’s main computer weaving the scene like a loom of lightning.

Blood-smeared walls and rust-bitten iron doors rose like wreckage, bright skies sank to pitch-black night like ink poured on silk, and lush plants hardened into jagged blood-crystals like thorns of winter.

The whole Phantom Plume Arcade warped into an abandoned manse, a bad omen crouched like a raven, while dread coiled like fog around their ankles.

Only two figures, one blue and one white, moved like twin fireflies in a field, their presence the last lanterns in the dark.

Facial capture mirrored their expressions like a clear lake; Yue studied her shotgun with bright excitement like a child cradling a new kite, while Yedie Snow scanned the shadows with sniper calm like frost over stone.

“No surprise, LittleSnow,” Yue beamed, praise fluttering like petals. “You’re so calm—you slipped into the mood in a blink.”

“Eh? Not at all!” Dixue turned, surprise bright as a startled bird. “It’s my first time in a game like this, so I’m just observing like a fox at the edge of a field.”

“Mm, then I’ll explain.” Yue swung the shotgun, her small blue-haired figure and the massive gun wild as a storm over a stream. “These are our starter weapons, matched to our magic traces like footprints in snow.”

“They push back early monsters like waves against sand, but fall off later like a lantern in wind, so we’ll need better gear to survive like roots finding water.”

“Oh, where do we get weapons?” Dixue leaned forward like a willow in breeze. “Let’s go now.”

“Mm… no idea!” Yue giggled, eyes crinkling like crescents. “It’s a roguelike, so spawns and enemies are random like dice tossed into rain—so we explore slowly.”

“I’ve learned!” Dixue nodded, crisp as a bamboo knock. “Got the controls—ready when you are.”

“You see the limits?” Yue asked, pointing like a reed. “Magic and strength are both set to Proficient tier, to spice things up like chili in soup.”

“Got it, I’m ready,” Dixue said, breath steady like a drawn bow.

“Let’s start,” Yue answered, heartbeat drumming like rain on tiles.

They pressed confirm, and the sealed iron door opened like a maw, from whose shadow shuffled zombies with red eyes glowing like embers.

“Hah!!” Dixue shouted, voice cutting like a bell, and a great silver round roared from her sniper like a tornado ripping fields, shredding five or six zombies to tatters like wet paper.

Whoa… so strong, Yue thought, envy fizzing like soda; how did Dixue roll such a monster gun at the start, as if RNG loved her like spring loves blossoms?

With the backwash from the muzzle, Dixue’s silver hair lifted like willow threads, and harsh light carved her calm face like marble, a Valkyrie born on the battlefield like ice over steel.

“Little Yue, how was that? I got them!” She turned, joy glittering like dew, the warrior’s chill melting into a neighbor-girl’s warmth like sun on frost.

“I can’t fall behind… ugh, the power’s so low!” Yue fired; up close the shotgun hit like thunder, but midrange it burst like fireworks, bright yet thin.

Zombies lunged like shambling tides, and it took several shots to drop one like felling a stubborn weed.

“Little Yue’s struggling!” Dixue’s worry quivered like a spider thread.

“Grr, annoying,” Yue muttered, pride flickering like a candle. “Once I get a good weapon, I’ll prove myself like steel from the quench.”

So the two girls moved, footsteps elegant as cranes across a rotting blood pool, angels invading hell like white wings against night, cleansing black sin like rain washing soot.

Soon they stepped into the next scene, the arcade’s outer corridor like a bridge in storm, a vantage over the Celestial Courtyard’s grim “splendor.”

The central ancient tree was gone like a felled pillar, replaced by a huge, snarling black-red heart that throbbed like a drum, its vessels worming into every corner like choking vines.

Altars like iron maidens bristled where shops had been, and low whispers drifted like cold wind through reeds.

“Ugh… this place—!” Dixue frowned, her silver muzzle lifting toward the heart like a spear toward a sunless sky.

“Wait, Dixue, don’t shoot!” Yue raised a hand like a wing. “That’s the final boss, sleeping like a coiled serpent.”

“If we wake it now, we’ll die like moths to flame with our current gear,” she said, calm falling like snow.

“Then, what do we do…?” Dixue blinked, confusion soft as mist; she hadn’t played games like this, like a deer at the forest edge.

“We hunt elites first,” Yue said, voice sure as a compass. “We search hidden rooms, expand power—classic roguelike rhythm like tides and moons.”

“Learned!” Dixue nodded, eyes bright like stars.

They headed to the ramen shop, now processed by the House of Horrors into a den like a spider’s nave: webs veiled the ceiling like old frost, floors lay black with grime like soot, and bloody dishes sat like withered lotus leaves.

A zombie butcher stood among ash like a charred tree, cleaver in hand, waiting for the girls like a wolf at a pass.

“Elites!” Yue warned, but the butcher moved first like thunder after a flash.

He roared, and the cleaver spun from his grip like a hawk, whirling straight for Yue like fate on a chain.

Panic pricked first like cold needles, and Yue dodged aside like a startled fish, but the webs at her feet dragged like mud, and the cleaver curved with tracking malice like a wasp.

“Ugh!” The blade hit, and though pain was muted like rain behind paper, her health dropped hard like a stone in a well.

Elites with traps could chain-kill like a river snaring reeds, yet the butcher was a power-type with long wind-up like a slow hammer, which let Yue wrench free of the webs like silk torn.

She slipped past the second cleaver like a swallow skimming waves.

“Little Yue!” Dixue trembled, anger rising like a storm under a once-calm sky, and her finger tightened on the trigger like frost locking a stream.

“Don’t you dare hurt Little Yue!” Her shout rang like a bell through smoke, and silver light burst on the butcher’s brow like lightning on a ridge, ripping through his body like a white-hot spear.