"Done."
Silver Wolf popped a pink bubblegum bubble—pop—then casually shoved her goggles up onto her forehead. Her gray eyes reflected the unconscious girl lying in front of her.
"Host status is stable. Stellaron fusion rate: one hundred percent. This was way easier than I expected. Herta didn't even leave a single contingency on this station."
She turned, her boot heels clicking crisply against the floor.
Kafka stood at the console. She didn't answer. She only leaned forward slightly, watching the sleeping vessel.
Star—that was her name.
Kafka's fingers brushed Star's cheek. The touch was light, her fingertips lingering for a heartbeat.
"Because it's the script, Silver Wolf."
Kafka straightened and adjusted the collar of her coat, dusted with ash from the cleanup earlier.
"It's time."
She lowered her voice, as if speaking directly into Star's dreams.
"Wake up."
At Kafka's words, Star's eyes slowly opened.
"Listen to me," Kafka murmured. "Remember how this moment feels. As long as your heart has a direction, you'll reach the end of the story…"
"It's almost time. I have to go. Someone will find you soon. Don't be afraid—go with them."
"Except for me," she whispered, "you won't remember anything."
Kafka dipped her head. Those golden eyes of hers were still blank, unreadable.
"When you finally get the chance to choose… don't let yourself regret it."
Silver Wolf lounged against a nearby terminal, a handheld game console somehow already in her hands, thumbs dancing.
"Alright, cut it out with the fake mother-daughter bonding scene. The Antimatter Legion idiots are making a huge mess. It's all 'according to plan,' sure, but if we don't pull out fast, it'll be a pain to explain when the Express crew shows up."
"Why rush?" Kafka pivoted on her heel, the sharp click tracing a half circle on the metal floor. She glanced at Silver Wolf, her smile unchanged by the approaching trouble.
"The script says we still have a little time."
"A little time?" Silver Wolf raised an eyebrow, lifting her gaze from the screen. "I dunno… this script feels off."
"You noticed something?"
"No. Just a hunch."
"Coordinates set?" Kafka asked.
"Been done." Silver Wolf hit the final button. "Soon she'll wake up, meet the Astral Express, and everything will proceed exactly like Elio said."
"But we shouldn't run into the Express yet."
She flicked her hand. Blue pixels bloomed from Star's toes upward, swallowing her body in a clean cascade.
"Later."
Kafka watched the girl fade out. The curve of her lips disappeared.
Silver Wolf hopped off the console, clapped her hands once, and adjusted her crooked goggles.
"Let's go." She headed for the exit, waving without turning around. "Mission complete. Where to next?"
"Elio's script doesn't include the return route."
"Oh?" Silver Wolf's face lit with the glow of the screen. "So that means free time."
"I wanna check out Herta's vault. Heard there's a cartridge in there—"
The corridor lights flickered—bad contacts. Shadows stretched long across the floor. The air still reeked of scorched metal: the Antimatter Legion's signature.
"Evac route?" Silver Wolf tilted her head, blowing another pink bubble that nearly bumped her nose. "Elio's coordinates point to the platform, but the cams show a lot of Voidrangers over there."
"Then clean them up," Kafka said—as casually as if she were discussing sweeping the floor.
They rounded a corner—and both stopped at the same time.
The corridor ahead wasn't empty.
A figure leaned against an automatic door at the far end, blocking the way.
Not a hologram. Not one of Herta's ubiquitous puppets.
A deep violet-black robe trailed to the floor, its hem embroidered with intricate silver patterns that caught the dim light in a slow shimmer. A wide-brimmed mage hat hid most of the face, exposing only the jawline and a few strands of gray-brown hair.
The person stood there, perfectly still.
Silver Wolf blinked. The gum bubble burst—pop—sticking to her lips.
She lifted a hand to peel it off, but her eyes never left the figure.
"No way."
For the first time, shock colored Silver Wolf's voice. "An actual body? Not that old lady's puppet network?"
"Real as it gets," the figure replied, and then bounced in place twice for emphasis. "I'm alive and kicking."
They lifted their head.
Those violet eyes—normally cold, distant—were brimming with amused laughter.
Bai Qian spread his hands wide, grinning like an absolute menace.
According to Elio's script, these two should've been able to leave cleanly.
Elio's script didn't make mistakes.
But today, something had gone wrong.
"This is impossible." Silver Wolf's gaze ping-ponged between Kafka and the figure. "Huh? Physical? Not a puppet?"
She snapped her head toward her partner, the motion stiff.
Kafka didn't look at Silver Wolf.
Her heel gently ground against the floor. The coat draped over her arm slid down by an inch—she gathered it back with a movement so slow it was almost imperceptible.
Her right hand, gloved in black, had naturally dropped beside her thigh at some point. Her fingertips hovered less than two centimeters from the submachine gun grip under her coat.
Kafka narrowed her eyes, scanning from the bouncing skirt hem to the face wearing that infuriating, prankster grin.
That expression… wasn't Herta.
That genius tended to look at the world like it was trash—not like a schoolkid preparing a practical joke.
"The script doesn't have this line," Kafka said.
"Whether it does or doesn't, I couldn't care less," Bai Qian replied brightly. "But there's no world where thieves get to take stuff and stroll out. Not on my watch, ladies."
He spun the S.E.E.S. evoker in his hand, flicking it into a clean gun-flourish before pressing it to his own temple.
Unlike his usual mild, composed self, he was inflated to the point of absurdity.
With Izanagi-no-Okami on his side, he was invincible.
"I only want two things right now," he announced, smiling wider. "To kill you—or be killed by you!"
Silver Wolf's raised hand froze midair.
She stared at the bizarre handgun. It wasn't a laser weapon. It wasn't any oddity from Herta's collection. It looked like some ancient era's chemical-propellant firearm—worse, the kind with exaggerated colors you'd only see in tokusatsu shows.
"Huh?"
"Kafka," Silver Wolf said slowly, pointing at Bai Qian, "the script is definitely messed up."
"This guy finally melted his brain with research, didn't he? Reloading in front of us? What is this, some new kind of staged collision scam?"
"Like—if I die here, you're the murderer?"
Kafka didn't laugh.
Her right hand snapped up, leaving only an afterimage.
The SMG roared. Orange muzzle fire spat into the hallway. Spent shells tinkled across the metal floor. The tight corridor amplified the gunfire into a brutal drum, shaking the overhead lights into frantic flickers.
No wind-up. No warning—just a sweep of bullets.
At the same time, her left hand slid inside her coat and flicked out a small cylinder.
A grenade.
Black metal casing spinning end over end, it arced straight toward the robed figure.
"Silver Wolf!" Kafka shouted—her voice shredded by the gunfire.
"I know!" Silver Wolf barked. "Run, right? I'm grabbing coordinates—now!"
Ether editing pixels flared around her, trying to forcibly rewrite the local coordinates.
She and Kafka hadn't reached the level where they could face an Emanator head-on and still have the luxury of getting smug afterward.
Emanators varied in strength, sure, but Herta was still an Emanator.
They didn't have the power to insta-pop a planet, and this wasn't a mandatory fight—so escape was the top priority.
Bai Qian didn't dodge.
He didn't even blink.
The evoker remained pressed to his temple, rock-steady.
His grin split wider.
His finger pulled the trigger.
"Per—so—na!"
The crisp mechanical click was nearly swallowed by gunfire.
But the shattering that followed slammed into the world like a bell.
Blue ghost-flames erupted behind him. Shards of glowing azure sprayed upward.
A heavily armored figure tore out of the void.
White plating threaded with gold patterns. A twin-headed naginata gleaming with lethal cold. A face covered by a mask-like helm.
Even the corridor's white lights were bleached into a warlike pallor.
The long blade spun.
A visible vortex of air twisted into being.
Bullets struck the rotating edge, showering sparks—then fell, powerless, to the floor.
The grenade was still tumbling midair.
Izanagi-no-Okami flicked the blade.
The steel kissed the grenade—so lightly it felt dismissive—and sent it flying back down the hallway.
It exploded in midair behind Kafka and Silver Wolf, blossoming into a blinding fireball.
The shockwave snapped Kafka's coat hem upward. Smoke and dust swallowed the corridor.
"Everyone plays turn-based games!" Bai Qian roared. "My Persona's old-school! Do you even understand what P5 is number one means?!"
"No Persona? Then kneel!"
"You're definitely broken in the head!" Silver Wolf shouted, furious. "I don't understand a word of your weird ranting!"
Bai Qian's answer was a howl that shook the air:
"Eat this—my fully-stacked Persona, fully-boosted, fully-concentrated, nation-creating-act-altered, triple-cast, almighty-damage…!"
"MYRIAD TRUTHS!"
Izanagi-no-Okami's eyes flared gold.
No chant. No buildup.
Instant cast meant instant cast.
The moment that nonsensical "Myriad Truths" dropped, golden radiance poured from the twin-headed blade.
The corridor was swallowed whole by a harsh, merciless white-gold flood.
"Cheating!" Silver Wolf screamed. "This is absolutely cheating! What kind of numbers are these?!"
Her voice shattered under the roar.
She didn't step back—because there wasn't time.
She threw up both hands on instinct.
The first pixel-wall disintegrated on contact.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Silver Wolf gritted her teeth. The pressure blew her bangs backward until they stood on end. Her gray eyes reflected the unstoppable gold torrent.
A crack rang out.
Her goggles split with a thin fracture line.
A hand seized the back of her collar.
Kafka didn't try to tank the blast.
In the instant her coat whipped up, revealing the inner lining, she threw her SMG into the side wall like a projectile.
Then she kicked off backward hard, drawing her blade in one clean motion.
The edge traced a perfect arc in the air.
Purple lightning coiled around the steel, trying to cut the incoming pressure apart.
Still not enough.
The impact launched them like snapped kites.
Kafka twisted midair, planting her boots on falling ceiling debris to redirect their landing—shielding Silver Wolf with her body.
They crashed into the corner at the far end of the hall with a heavy thud, dust erupting in a choking cloud.
They hadn't eaten the full Myriad Truths head-on.
Even so, the aftershock left them grievously wounded.
"Cough—cough—" violent hacking echoed through the rubble.
A hand reached out from broken chunks, waving away dust.
Silver Wolf dragged herself up, disheveled. Her ponytail had come loose, spilling across her shoulder. Her blue-black jacket was coated in pale gray powder.
She spat out the now-flavorless gum and glanced down at the handheld device still flashing red in her palm.
…Great. Completely screwed.
She lifted her eyes toward Bai Qian—
and froze.
The silver-white figure behind him was gone.
In its place loomed a vast, pitch-black silhouette that blotted out the corridor.
Three pairs of dark wings.
A demonic head crowned by golden ram horns.
A rapier in its hand—splitting open to reveal a gun barrel within.
"Sinful Shell—"
"We surrender!"
Silver Wolf screamed it instantly, threw herself flat on the floor, and covered her head.
...
In the chat group—
[Heart-Thief Crew Lao Da]: image.jpg @Pointy-Hat Lady
Herta tapped it open.
In the lower-left corner: Silver Wolf curled on the floor, trembling, hands over her head.
On the right: Kafka slumped against a pile of debris, coat torn, blood at the corner of her mouth.
And "Herta's body" was casually tugging at a glove, striking a pose that meant absolutely nothing.
[Heart-Thief Crew Lao Da]: Done. This is a Stellaron Hunter? Why are they surrendering? @Pointy-Hat Lady, what do I do with them next?
[Pointy-Hat Lady]: ???
Wasn't it "some thieves"? How did I look away for two minutes and you've already arrested the Stellaron Hunters?!
-------
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