"Transform!"

The ground rushed closer. Wind battered him as Battle Armor materialized, inch by inch, encasing Zeming’s body.

Gauntlets locked onto his wrists. Greaves sealed around his legs. Starting from the waistband, the armor surged outward, completing its assembly at both ends. Its nanotech-like speed crushed all notions of conventional battle suits. Micro-machines swarmed over his skin.

"Honestly… how long has it been since I last transformed like this?"

He hadn’t been a Hero for a long time. Retirees should just enjoy life.

His body slammed into the earth with a *thud*. He flipped upright, feet meeting pavement, then sprang to absorb the impact. Dust billowed as his helmet sealed over his face.

Ready. Time to fight.

He crouched low, nearly flush with the ground. Turbines whirred inside him, machinery roaring to life. He drew a deep breath. Muscles coiled. Legs tensed—then *released*!

***BOOM—***

Air exploded outward the instant Zeming leapt. His body shot skyward, unimpeded.

He soared high, arcing toward a skyscraper’s peak. Just before landing, he slightly bent his knees to cushion the impact.

"There you are. Not bad… bastard."

A figure materialized before him, blurring into clarity. A massive blue cloak fluttered in the wind. His black suit and tie made him look like a stage magician—though "elegant" was a stretch. That ridiculous full-head black hood? Instantly killed any mystique.

"Welcome, unknown Hero! I’ve awaited you here—"

Zeming had calculated everything: trajectory, velocity, gravity. He’d pinpointed the perfect landing spot.

"—for ages! Hey! Where are you flying?! I’m *here*!"

"*Araaa—*"

He’d overpowered the leap. Instead of landing on target, he overshot the magician, crashing down beside him. Momentum sent him tumbling wildly across the rooftop, kicking up dust and debris.

*Yep. Dramatic entrances really aren’t my style.*

*Why won’t I stop rolling?! Too much force!*

"*Hah!*"

But he couldn’t let the moment die.

Zeming slammed both fists into the concrete. They plunged deep, carving trenches as he skidded toward the roof’s edge.

"*Ahhh! Stop! Whoa!*"

He finally halted—half his forearm buried in cement. *Worth it.*

"You…" The magician vanished, then reappeared inches from Zeming’s face. The teleportation trick did suit the outfit. "What was *that* about?"

"A minor miscalculation. Forgot to limit my strength."

Zeming’s face burned with embarrassment. But that wasn’t the issue. He glared at the masked man. "Talk. Why were you spying on my home? Touch my wife, and I’ll grind you into mincemeat. Harm my daughter? I’ll break every bone in your body *after* I kill you. Tear you apart with my bare hands. Feed your chunks to sharks."

"Wait—your wife and daughter get *different* threats?"

"Problem?!"

Zeming lunged, grabbing the man’s head. He yanked him up, then drove his face into the rooftop. Concrete shattered, cratering beneath them. Zeming watched the figure disintegrate into dust.

"Must you lack *grace*~?"

The dust swirled behind Zeming, reassembling into the masked man. Powder coalesced in his palm, forming a magician’s cane.

"Illusions?" Zeming tilted his head.

"*Heh heh~* You’re just reckless. I won’t reveal the secret~"

"Figures. You *are* a pervert."

Zeming sneered. The insult instantly ignited the magician’s temper. *Is this guy twelve?*

"You’re the pervert!"

The masked man bristled.

"*You’re* the pervert!" Zeming shot back.

"Whoever calls me a pervert *is* the pervert!"

"Whoever argues with me is the pervert!"

"I reflect it back to *you*!"

"*I* reflect it back to *you*!"

*This is elementary school-level bickering. Ridiculous… but kinda fun.*

"Enough!" The magician smoothed his suit, taking a deep breath. "I am Mark the Illusionist, Fifth Heavenly King of the… uh… *That* Organization’s Human Resources Department! I’m here to reclaim the Core!"

He spun dramatically, cane jabbing toward Zeming’s nose with a smirk.

*Blatant provocation.* Zeming’s blood boiled—but something else nagged him. *Human Resources Department? What the hell?*

"Skip the ‘Four Heavenly Kings’ bit. What’s your organization’s *actual* name?"

"*That* Organization is *That* Organization. I won’t say more."

"What kind of introduction is that?!"

*So annoying!*

"Get a business card first! Without that sacred ritual of office workers, why should I tell you anything?!"

"Business cards?! You’re a *salaryman*?!" Zeming had hotel service cards, but none of his own.

"Of course!! Work is glorious!"

"*Ugh.* Enough talk. Let’s fight!"

Zeming threw a punch. *No problem can’t be solved with one solid hit!*

"NO! Not today!"

The man raised a palm. Zeming yanked his fist back.

But it wasn’t a combat stance. The magician flattened his hand, palm down, then pressed a finger beneath it—*stop*.

"*Hah?*"

Zeming froze, staring at the magician-salaryman-whatever-his-name-was. *Mark?*

"Truth is…" Mark shuffled his feet like a shy schoolgirl. "I haven’t perfected my grand entrance yet. Can you… wait? I just came to scout today~"

"*Seriously?!* Grow up!"

*This guy… I really want to kill him now.*

"*Ehehe~*" Mark stuck out his tongue. "That’s all for today! Next time I appear, I’ll explain everything…"

His body burst into powder, leaving only faint blue glitter. His voice echoed anyway.

***[Remember—next time, you die————]***

*Wow. Five-ring stereophonic echo.*

"Wait! Are you the *only* one who knows the Key’s location?" Zeming yelled.

***[Naturally! In such fierce conflict, I must keep this year-end bonus leverage————]***

*Definitely a corporate drone. HR and year-end bonuses?*

"No one else knows? Good."

***[Why are you relieved?! Where are you going?! STOP!!!]***

Zeming walked left, stopping at the rooftop’s edge.

"Pervert. In your next life, don’t spy on my wife or daughter."

He raised his fist toward empty air. Turbines whined on his belt. Machinery surged, channeling power into his knuckles. They glowed crimson.

***[WAIT——————————]***

The crimson fist shot forward. Though nothing was visible, it struck true.

It slammed into Mark’s hidden body, shattering his illusion.

"*Uwaaahh!!*"

The blow crumpled Mark’s abdomen, launching him off the building into the sky.

***[……WHY?!]***

Mid-air, Mark’s body swelled from the impact. Energy erupted within him. One second. Two. Three—

***POP!***

He burst like fireworks, scattering into fragments.

*Power Bunch!* First time using it in years. Felt… rusty.

"Don’t play illusions with me. I’ve faced stronger foes," Zeming muttered, removing his helmet. He shook his head at the glittering sky. "And you call yourself a Heavenly King? Pathetic. Leaving dust everywhere."

Time to head home. His wife and daughter would worry.

He paused mid-step.

*One thing I forgot to ask…*

"What Core was he talking about?"