The city, ablaze with civilization’s lights, towered in the night. Gleaming skyscrapers flashed past the hovercar window. The hum of the anti-gravity engine echoed in my ears. I gripped the control stick, driving along the straight elevated highway. I glanced at the passenger seat. A girl with purple-dyed hair rested her chin on her arm, watching the night scenery blur by. Countless hovercars raced along the road. Their red taillights formed a flowing river of light. This highway was the city’s lifeline, carrying humanity’s blood.

“(Garbled)!” I called her name, but couldn’t grasp the sound. It felt erased from my mind, utterly incomprehensible.

“I hate you, Dad!”

The girl shot me a hateful glare. I called her name again. She ignored me, turning her head away. I let out a deep sigh, my gaze returning forward. An hour ago, I’d dragged her from that chaotic underground bar. I’d sent her boyfriends to the hospital with my fists. Then I stuffed her into this hovercar.

I released the steering wheel. Autopilot activated instantly. A holographic map projected before me. I touched it lightly, selecting the destination—a girls’ school on the city’s west coast.

The hovercar continued. Scenery shifted gradually. Skyscrapers gave way to the calm sea. On the coastal seawall, giant wind turbines turned slowly in the night. Like arm-waving giants, they guarded the shore. The vehicle crossed a long sea bridge, reaching the school on a hexagonal artificial island.

A robot guard scanned my ID at the gate. It let me through immediately.

I drove into the campus, glancing at her. She’d slumped in defeat. Her colorful contact lenses glared fiercely at me.

“(Garbled), this is for your own good,” I growled in a deep voice. “Look what you’ve become—a thug, doing drugs, drinking with punks, even spreading your legs for them! I raised you for years, not for this degradation. Does this honor your mother?”

“Ever since Mom died, you turned into a bastard, Dad!” she shot back. “Yes, gods and apostles killed her. So you had reason to fight? So you could ignore me? I’m like this because of you. It’s all your fault!”

“Sorry, kid. I’ll fight until this war ends—or my last breath.” I opened the car door. “Come on, (garbled). Meet your new friends. In this closed school, you’ll live like a decent human. Not a self-destructive trash.”

She refused to move. I had to use force.

“Get off! Let go!” she struggled hard. But against my LV5-augmented body, it was useless. I lifted her with one hand, carrying her effortlessly into the principal’s office.

“Look who’s here,” the principal stood up. “(Garbled) Major. Long time no see. Heard you graduated from mecha corps. Became a Night Watch operative?”

“Something like that.” I patted the No. 13 Simulated Holy Sword “Heaven’s Wrath” at my waist.

“Oh, a Simulated Holy Sword—truly imposing.” He sized me up. “That build. Those artificial muscles would shame any bodybuilder. You’ve become a superman, kid.”

“Enough talk. This one.” I dragged her over. “(Garbled). My daughter. You know her.”

“Oh, God.” He pushed up his glasses. “That cute little princess turned into a bar-haunting streetwalker? What happened in ten years?”

“My wife died. Then…” I glanced at her. “Just take her as a student.”

“No problem. As an old friend, I’ll help.” He turned to her, stern-faced. “Your father’s a great warrior. He entrusted you to me—I’ll make you the best. Your teacher will fix your bad habits. Remember, I’m always watching.”

She nodded, overwhelmed by his presence.

“Acceptable?” He faced me. “I’ll care for her. You fight those damn gods and apostles freely, old friend.”

“I leave it to you.” I bowed slightly.

I took one last look at her, then turned to leave. Suddenly, frail arms wrapped around my waist. She pressed her face against my back.

“Don’t go, Dad. Please…”

“Sorry.” I pried her hands away. “I must fight for you.”

She sobbed behind me. I didn’t dare look back. One glance, and I’d lose courage for the battlefield. The human-god war began before my birth. It raged on. Gods sought to destroy us. We resisted. This war would end only when one side was annihilated. For my daughter, I’d slaughter the gods. I’d end this holy war with my hands.

Resolute, I exited the office and entered the hovercar. Lightning split the sky. Thunder rumbled close behind. Rain pattered on the windshield, blurring distant views. I glanced at the rearview mirror. A sharp-featured face stared back—rugged, battle-hardened. A scar crossed his right eye. In the empty socket, a silver cyber-eye glowed red.

“Who are you?” I reached toward the reflection. “Who am I…?”

The dream faded. Mio opened her eyes slowly. The inn’s ceiling met her gaze. Moonlight poured through the open window, casting silver frost on the floor. She sighed, rolled out of bed, and gulped down a glass of water. On the other bed, Talasha and Amber breathed steadily. Beastkin curled up in sleep, fluffy ears twitching cutely.

Barefoot, Mio approached the window. She gazed at the moonlit Imperial Capital. The dream clung to her heart. Though she couldn’t recall the girl’s name, her face brought tears streaming down. Raw emotions surged, refusing to calm. Mio wiped her cheeks, leaped out the window, and landed softly in the courtyard. The gray horse in the stable snorted softly, giving her a concerned look.

“Impressive moves.”

A familiar voice sounded behind her. Mio spun around. A man in a white robe emerged from shadows. Water droplets glistened on his sculpted chest. It was Moura—Imperial Marshal, one of three emperor candidates. Mio froze, unsure.

Moura walked closer, gently wiping her tears with his finger.

“Why cry?” he asked.

“Huh?” Mio rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. Just personal worries, Marshal Murat. If I disturbed you, I apologize.”

“No, I was startled.” He gazed at her, her tearful face reflected in his clear eyes. “When you jumped from the second floor, I thought Goddess Atira of the Hunt had descended. Truly shocking.” His tone shifted. “Mio, missing someone far away?”

Mio nodded silently. That “far away” crossed world boundaries.

“Sometimes I miss my mother and sisters too.” Moura looked at the full moon. “I was born in the Empire’s west. Before soldiering, I was a minor noble. I inherited an emperor’s bloodline, but my father’s generation fell into ruin. My mother and sisters spoiled me—I was the only boy. I still remember spring forest explorations, summer river swims, autumn wheat-field runs, winter songs on snowy plains.”

“Your childhood was happy, Marshal Murat.”

“Truly happy.” Moura sighed. “Until ten years ago. A slave uprising swept the west. It took everything—father, mother, sisters, my domain—all burned to ashes.”

“Sorry.” Mio lowered her head.

“Your homeland was destroyed by the Empire.” Moura studied her. “Why no revenge? With your status, you could rebel in the Northlands. March south. Why join the imperial selection? Why gift the Empire a cure for its crisis?”

“I hate my father.” Mio felt Theresa’s memories surge. “From birth, I was locked in a tower. This silver hair, this beauty—they doomed me to be a ritual sacrifice.” She opened her robe, revealing a stitched chest wound. “My father, King Reynard of the Northlands, killed me in a ritual. This scar never heals. I don’t even know if I’m alive.” She met Moura’s gaze. “No familial love from birth. Killed by my father atop a tower. Is that happiness? I don’t hate the Empire. I just don’t want more suffering. I saw people here. If I can help them live better, I will. But I’m no emperor. I’ll quit the selection. Keep traveling.”

“I should apologize.” Moura bowed his head. “My shallowness hurt you. Deeply sorry.”

“You’re a soldier, Marshal Murat.” Mio spoke calmly. “Your world is clear: friend or foe. As a fallen kingdom’s princess, your vigilance was correct. Slaughtering the Empire’s enemies is your duty. No apology needed. Raise your head. Your bow shames me too much.”

Moura lifted his head, eyes locked on hers. “Mio, I heard your speech this morning. Brilliant. Your wisdom is unmatched. If one sage exists, it’s you. I want that wisdom. Become my wife, if possible.”

He reached for her hand. Mio stood dumbfounded.

“Sorry.” She stepped back shyly. “Being a wife… that’s the one thing I can’t do!”

She turned and fled, leaving Moura alone under the moonlight.

“Too hasty, perhaps.” Moura scratched his golden hair, hand on his pounding chest. “Maybe this is love at first sight. But… not a bad feeling.”