She looked no more than sixteen or seventeen. At that age, to climb so high—her name should ripple through records like ink on snow, even in later eras.

So why… had the System never heard of her?

Hidden from sight? With that thought, the System reflexively tossed a scan like a net into dark water. The return popped up cold as a locked vault: “Insufficient permission. Access denied.”

System: “…I knew it.”

Wrapped tight in coat and scarf, the girl stood like a lantern muffled in fog. The System felt a strange itch of confusion, like wind under a closed door—its host’s mindscape was a maze.

Yan Xiao didn’t linger at the military base. She’d come to see Nana Shi as fast as a hawk dives, but Nana wasn’t here. After a quick greeting to the old acquaintance called System, she had no reason to stay. With a brisk farewell, she went to report to the rear logistics corps.

Left behind, the System stood alone amid the snowfall, a lone post in a white field, staring at the soldiers drilling in the distance.

Thoughts circled like migrating birds. Its host ought to raise a force of her own. Then, even if the System left this mindscape, its host and Yan Xiao could live steady as stones.

Besides, the System still hadn’t completed the prophecy quest from the Queen of Time. It didn’t even know who the hero was—the one fated to topple Moragus like a storm fells an old tree.

If war flared and that person died for no reason, what then?

So the System burned to conjure an army for its host. But a few days later, when it met her, that plan was cut down without mercy.

“Why not! Mas… uh, General Shi! With just the two of us, a lot of missions will choke at the starting line!” The System’s voice ran hot, like breath on a winter window. She really wanted to shoulder some weight for her host on the battlefield.

But—

“I’ll answer in two points.” Nana Shi’s tone was colder than when they’d first met five years ago. In her black eyes, smooth as obsidian, the System found no ripple at all. “First, I prefer the cold loyalty of the weapon in my hand to a follower who might betray me at any moment.”

“Second, there’s only me here. You and Ningyi aren’t under my command. If there’s nothing else, please leave.”

“But I’ve got dispatch orders from His Highness Moragus. That makes me your soldier, General Shi!” The System held up the paper like a shield.

“Then kill yourself. Now.” The words fell calm as snow on stone, and hit twice as hard.

“Huh?”

“You said you’re under me. Obeying one’s general is basic.” Nana’s expression stayed smooth and distant; even the System, who had lived at her side, sensed the thorns bristling all along the girl’s silhouette.

“But…”

“If you can’t, resign. I don’t need subordinates who can’t follow orders.” Her words were fast, her motion faster. She stepped around the System and moved to leave, a blade’s flick through silence.

Squelch—wet and sharp, like steel sliding into soft fruit. A muffled girl’s grunt followed behind. Nana paused less than a heartbeat. She didn’t even turn her head as she walked away.

Her mercy had run dry five years ago. Now, she had no use for it.

…

When the System woke again, days had bled past. Machines ringed the room like a forest of glass and wires. Ningyi pushed herself up on the bed. Electrodes clung to her skin like pale leeches.

So she’d been saved?

Lucky… She’d thought her host would leave her outside to freeze and fade like old paint.

Sitting up, the System sighed inwardly. So her host really was all sharp tongue and steady hands, thunder on the outside, shelter within.

“Hey—Ningyi, you’re awake!” Yan Xiao stepped in with a tray of instruments, her voice bright as a bell. Seeing Ningyi conscious, she hurried closer, excitement skipping like pebbles on a pond.

The sound rang in Ningyi’s ear. Her head still throbbed like a bruise. Killing yourself once hurt like a blade of ice; she marveled her host used to cut her own throat and step worlds so easily.

“Why’d you collapse at the base out of nowhere? The soldiers said you took a little knife and cut your belly. Were you trying to die? If one of them hadn’t reported it, you might’ve died right there.” Yan Xiao’s tone carried rare sternness, a teacher’s ruler tapping the desk.

“Was it… other soldiers who reported it?” The System’s face dimmed like a lamp in wind. Sure enough, in her host’s heart, she still ranked far too low.

“Alright, alright, it’s over now. If you’re ever in trouble, tell me. Even His Highness Moragus thought you wanted to die.” Seeing that shadow on Ningyi’s face, Yan Xiao gently removed the leads and spoke softly. “Take care of your body, okay? If they send me your corpse one day, I’ll cry.”

“Mm…” The words struck like a hand on a locked door. Under Yan Xiao’s palm, the System’s heart jerked. Feeling surged up like a dam breaking, wild and bright.

“Yan-chan… This is sudden, but… have you been studying tech for building an artificial intelligence system?”

“Ah?” Yan Xiao hadn’t expected that curve. But faced with those urgent, storm-bright eyes, she answered after a beat, choosing her words like stones across a stream. “I haven’t mastered it. I only have the idea. There aren’t enough researchers who meet my standards. If I do it alone, it’ll take time.”

“So you will build an AI someday, right, to systemize it?” The System’s hunch burned hotter, drumbeats quick in her chest.

“Eh?! Well… not necessarily. If His Highness Moragus doesn’t support it, I might drop it.” Yan Xiao scratched her cheek, a little sheepish, like a cat caught stealing sun. “Right now, an AI system doesn’t seem very useful.”

“What? No way! You can’t give that up, Yan-chan! You—cough, cough…” Emotion jumped ahead of breath. The System hacked, chest tight as a clenched fist.

“Hey… Yi-chan, easy.” Yan Xiao rubbed her back, worry creasing like ripples. Still, a question nagged. “Why can’t I give up AI research? It doesn’t fit the world as it is.”

“Uh… well… that’s…” The System almost forgot this was her host’s mindscape. The future hadn’t happened yet. Explaining would be a knot of vines.

“Because… because you’re human, Yan-chan. If you hide in a lab alone, your body will crack like ice. If you build an advanced AI to help you, the work will fly. Then maybe… we’ll have more time to see Nana.”

“Is… is that it?” Yan Xiao hadn’t flown so far ahead. Still, the thought settled like warm tea. “You’re right. That’s true.”

Even a genius was flesh and blood. The feelings that make us human aren’t badges to be discarded.

“An AI system… Maybe I will research it.” For Nana. And for the person she’d be.

“By the way, how did you know I was thinking about AI?” In this era, that thought was a comet no one tracked. Yan Xiao studied the girl before her. Odd predictions flickered like fireflies.

“Uh… a sudden flash of inspiration?” The System, for once, fumbled, hands full of air.

“Then why did that sound like a question?”

System: “…”

“But this is nice… I didn’t expect someone to care about me.” Yan Xiao watched the girl’s fluster like a bird in tall grass, then laughed with a soft puchi.

She sat on the edge of the bed, leaned her head on Ningyi’s shoulder, and closed her eyes like a flower at dusk. “Whenever people discussed tech with me, they drifted away. I was too good. They thought I could do everything alone. If they came close, they feared they’d slow me down. In time, I didn’t even have one friend to talk to.”

So… that was why she’d chased their host for five long years?

The System watched Yan Xiao’s quiet face and felt the world’s hardness like grit between teeth. Even blazing geniuses carry their own knots.

“But you’re different, Yi-chan.”

“Eh?” The System blinked.

“You and I share so many thoughts. It feels like we’re linked by a hidden thread. I don’t know why, but you’re a lot like the person I imagine.” Her smile was a moon behind clouds.

“If I really make an AI system someday, I might name it after you, Yi-chan.”