Before either of them could react, a fistful of soda cans smashed through the glass like a hail squall, then punched through the gunship’s armored pane like meteors. The two pilots never even knew why; the whirling cans hit and turned them to pulp.
The machine gun that meant to open up lost control; a storm of metal scythed the corridor like razors in a gale. In front of Aphelia, not a single round grazed the trio.
Even without pilots, a gunship shouldn’t drop that fast. But Aphelia didn’t know gunships, and caution felt like ice in her veins. She’d rather overkill than miss. Without even calling on Aether, anything she threw hit like a steamroller to the face.
Killing? A flat calm settled in her chest, cold as frost on iron. Different era, different sky. People here might gasp at her reckless hand, but in the age she came from, it was man-eats-man. When a butcher’s blade swung at you, if you didn’t resist, you were a fish on the chopping block.
That’s the creed she kept like a knife by the heart: no matter who stands across from you, if they dare raise a blade at you, then even if it costs your life, you make them spit teeth.
Watching Aphelia swat a gunship from the sky, Yuan’s eyes went wide as twin moons; beyond shock, only shock remained.
Aphelia moved too fast to see, and that wasn’t just her. It was Violet’s issue too. In that burst of Thunder just now, the Aether ripples in the air held no trace that belonged to Aphelia. That was a chilling problem, like black ice underfoot.
Yuan had heard campfire legends for years—bare hands catching missiles, tanks flipped like toys. Every tale leaned on Aether like a crutch. For raw flesh to reach Aphelia’s level? In this whole world, there wouldn’t be a second.
Violet thought further. Her gaze on Aphelia shifted like clouds over a lake; ideas flickered through her mind like lanterns in a night market.
“Lady Yuan, the question now—”
“Leave it to me. I don’t know which idiot in the United Army pulled the trigger, but even a general’s chair won’t save him. I’ll go ahead. Need help here?”
Yuan slid her glasses back on. Her tone stayed level, but anger glinted like steel under calm water. Before she left, she still paused to ask Violet. In a moment like this, she wasn’t dumping blame; she was staying to handle trouble. That was enough.
Violet smiled and shook her head. She lifted her blood-red spear; a crimson beam surged up like a geyser, tore through the corridor, and speared the sky. The night blushed red, like dawn bleeding through storm clouds.
“They’ll be crawling over to apologize any minute now~”
At that teasing smile, Yuan exhaled, a weary wind in her chest. With what the Elders can do, what could the United Army really do to them? The front line against the Daemon Beasts leaned on the Elders like a crutch. If they withdrew for a single day, the so-called leaders of the United Army would crawl over on their knees to beg.
Power without shackles is a double-edged blade; it glints both ways.
Thinking that, Yuan quickened her steps and left. She had hotter coals to stamp out. She didn’t know which muggle thought to poke the tiger’s brow, but since they did, they’d pay the price.
“Ah, shame. This one’s broken…”
Aphelia glanced at the vending machine by the lounge, twisted and caved in by the force she’d thrown with those cans. Regret flickered over her face like a cloud’s shadow. She liked soda. On a bone-tired road like this, it tasted like “home.”
Even if that “home” was a painted backdrop.
At that thought, Aphelia gave herself a wry smile, thin as paper.
“It’s okay. We can find more elsewhere~”
Seeing her like that, Violet’s urge to protect flared like a warm fire. She ruffled Aphelia’s hair, fond and gentle, and Aphelia sighed.
Right then, soldiers spilled out at the end of the corridor, rifles shouldered, boots beating like drumbeats. They surrounded Aphelia and Violet in a tightening ring. Muzzles gaped like black wells. They were more cautious than the gunship crew; no one pulled the trigger.
Trapped again, impatience rose in Aphelia’s chest like heat mirage. She swept a cold gaze over them and let her voice drop like sleet.
“What do you want? Looking to die?”
They didn’t flinch. The barrels held steady on her, and fingers hooked the triggers like claws. If Aphelia twitched, they would fire without a blink.
Just as the air tightened like a drawn bow, a middle-aged officer in uniform pushed through the ranks. He split the line like a prow through water and barked without preamble.
“Violet, on what grounds did you recall every Elder?!”
“Oh—Lieutenant Gus. And what does my recall have to do with you? Aren’t you the living strength of humanity? Instead of hunting Daemon Beasts, you’re here to surround a couple of weak ladies?”
Violet’s smile was all thorns. She didn’t bother to save the man’s face. She even dismissed her Aether Armament and looked at him like he was an insect on the sill.
Seeing that, Aphelia loosened up. These people couldn’t really threaten them. If she chose, she could fold this squad like paper. Her mind was already wandering to a bigger question—what exactly counted as top-tier power in this world?
“Do you know how tight the front is? You recalled them on a whim—can you shoulder that? Do you know how many soldiers we’ll lose if the Elders pull out? You—”
He didn’t finish. Violet was suddenly in front of him, fingers knotted in his collar, lifting him like a hawk snatching a rabbit.
“That’s a loss for you humans. What does it have to do with us Elders? Are Elders supposed to die for you?”
Her voice ran cold, a blade on stone. Her eyes on Gus were the eyes you give a corpse. The soldiers snapped their aim to her in a rustling wave, but no one fired; fingers dug into triggers until knuckles blanched.
Facing Violet, cold crept up Gus’s spine like a wet rope. He was a desk man. He hadn’t spent a month on the line. He’d only felt this kind of chill from veterans with blood ground into their hands.
Violet snorted, dropped his collar, and drifted back to Aphelia’s side.
“Ahem… You Elders were made for humanity’s future in the first place…”
“I don’t think so. And even if we were made, it wasn’t for your future. Besides, aren’t you geniuses trying to erase humanity’s future yourselves? How did those gunships get deployed? Care to explain? Or do you have rebels you can’t control inside the Academy?”
Arms folded, Violet listened to his laughable script like it bored her. She could guess it already. Gus was the insurance on the gunship gambit. If anything went wrong, he’d stall her—not to hurt, just to buy time.
The hand behind the curtain never imagined Violet would recall every Elder without blinking.
Hearing her, Gus’s face went dark as a raincloud. He kept quiet now, locked in a brittle standoff. Even a fool could see he’d been shoved forward as a shield.
If this broke into a fight, he was sure they wouldn’t last three seconds. He’d seen Violet move. That wasn’t something humans could answer.
At the Academy gates, the doors yawned open. APCs rolled in like iron beetles. Far off, more black shapes dropped from the sky like crows.
“Figures. Useless against Daemon Beasts, but when it comes to heroes you’ve got playbooks for days. Truly human. No wonder your future gets chewed up by the Eldritch Gods.”
Watching the army flood the campus, Violet’s smile grew colder, a rim of ice on a cup. The more that came now, the better the look on their faces would be later—when they crawled over to beg the Elders for help. She was very much looking forward to it.
“Violet, are you sure you don’t want to—”
Aphelia narrowed her eyes, a cat ready to pounce. She wanted to grind these enemies to dust, but Violet hadn’t moved. That meant a plan. No need to rush.
Soon, squads ringed both dorms and “invited” the two down. Of course, they didn’t dare more than that. Add a few more .50s, a few more Stingers, and they’d only blow up their own men, not scratch Violet.
They entered the operations room from before. A middle-aged man in dress uniform sat inside, and beside him sat the young man whose arm Violet had taken. Seeing them, the youth’s eyes burned like coals; he wanted to tear Violet apart with his teeth. In front of the older man, he didn’t dare.
This was clearly the youth’s “father,” a high-seat general of the United Army—Simmons.
“Miss Violet, are you ready to explain what’s going on?”
“Coming in this hard, you must think you’re worth something.”
Violet shot back without a hitch. She didn’t spare a thought for General Simmons’s feelings. From what she knew, if the original commander of the American theater hadn’t died on the front, this rear-line general wouldn’t be sitting that high.
“Miss Violet, you don’t really think humanity can’t manage without you Elders, do you? In the end, you’re tools. Tools don’t rebel against their masters—”
“I don’t think you can’t manage. See? I’ve already recalled every Elder. I’ll inform the United Government’s top brass about it. I’ll be sure to emphasize your part in this. As for ‘master’… with trash like you, what right, what virtue?”
