The glow lingered longer than Bai Qian expected.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes. When he looked back at his phone, the icon that had been spinning had already frozen in place.
No flashy sound effects. No little system fairy popping out to shout congratulations.
At the center of the screen, a single drop of blood floated in silence.
It was a dark red so close to black it looked like molten magma sealed inside a ruby.
Bai Qian held his breath and snapped a screenshot on instinct.
Anyone who got a gold pull and didn't screenshot it had to be some kind of emotionless machine.
With slightly trembling fingers, he tapped into the details.
[Item Name: Blood of Sparta]
[Quality: Gold]
[Origin: World · Devil May Cry]
[Type: Bloodline]
[Description: This is no ordinary blood. It comes from Sparta—the one who betrayed his own kind and raised his blade for humanity. This single drop contains power enough to shake the demon world, and a soul that, while demonic, is nobler than most humans.]
[Base Ability: Greatly increases physical ability. Your body will grow through battle. As long as your heart still beats, it will be difficult for you to truly die. You will become a favored child of demonic power.]
[Devil Trigger: With the Rebellion greatsword, you may enter Devil Trigger. Without Rebellion, if you possess a demon within you, you may use that demon's template to perform a Devil Trigger once. Cooldown: 12 hours.]
[Note: After fusing this bloodline, when your demonic power surges your hair will gradually turn white. You may also develop an inexplicable fondness for pizza, strawberry sundaes, or plastic chairs. This is purely a bloodline—no combat skills or styles are included. If you want to fly around in the air for half an hour like those twin brothers, you'll have to train it yourself.]
"…Holy—"
He stared at the screen and forced out two dry syllables.
Sparda's bloodline.
Not some bargain-bin half-demon knockoff. Not some diluted "demonic power."
It meant that if he was willing to put in the work, he could one day strum a guitar in front of the King of Hell and make the bastard provide backup vocals.
Sure, the "no combat skills included" part was a little infuriating—but it was like being handed a Ferrari engine. No wheels, no chassis, but once you built around it, you'd leave tractors so far behind they wouldn't even see your taillights.
"So this is what 300 points buys…"
He swallowed.
Right then, someone pounded the wall next door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fast rhythm. Heavy force.
Whoever was doing it was in a truly foul mood—and might very well be using that rusty scythe as a hammer.
"That was gold, right?! That was definitely gold, right?!"
Sakiko's voice came through the wall, sharp with tooth-grinding jealousy. "I saw it! That kind of light pollution! It turned night into day! Bai Qian—did you secretly pay the chat group?!"
"That's the chat group rewarding a righteous man!"
Bai Qian shouted back, unable to hide his grin. "People who use little scythes will only ever use little scythes. Sakiko, sometimes luck is part of strength. Me? I didn't do anything. I just had faith."
"Liar! I wished too! I wished for one million yen!"
A furious stomp thudded through the floor.
"Then you probably wished wrong. I mean… with that scythe of yours, why don't you learn cancel-tech and marathon running next?"
"Why did it have to be like this… the first time I pull and I get a drop… and it's even a matching set… these two joyful things intertwined, and those two joys should have brought me so many more joys—I was supposed to have this dreamlike happiness, and yet… why… why did it turn into this…"
Sakiko's wail was so tragic it could make angels cry.
Bai Qian chuckled and went back to his screen.
The blooddrop hovered there, waiting patiently.
[Fuse Blood of Sparta?]
Yes.
His vision bled red.
In the haze, he thought he saw a blue figure sitting on a street-stall plastic chair, back turned, a long blade in hand, rising slowly beneath a downpour.
"If you want it, come and take it. You've always known the rules."
"Wait—why is there a street-stall chair?!"
He snapped back and raised his hand, staring at his palm.
No special effects. No black veins crawling up his arm. No nails growing into claws.
But he could feel it—something was different.
His heartbeat had become deep and steady, every thump like a pump forcing demonic power through his veins. It filled him in a way that made his earlier exhaustion melt like ice cream under a scorching sun.
As a Phantom Thief, his physical body had always been a weak point. Even if he maxed his five stats, he was still just… a normal human.
Now he'd gained his first real piece.
He clenched his fist. The air compressed with a soft pop.
"Other than the sudden urge to flip someone off getting stronger, this is definitely a real upgrade."
This was Sparda's bloodline.
In a world crawling with Honkai beasts and Herrschers, a body like this was the hardest kind of capital.
As for combat style… he had Personas. Worst case, he just used a gunstock to beat people and called it "Gunslinger style."
I'm not lacking anything now.
He still had 900 points left.
To a gambler who'd just tasted blood, leftover points weren't a balance. They were unclaimed dreams.
He was a man. There was a script in front of him. What was beyond that mountain?
Diamonds.
"Strike while the iron's hot."
He licked his dry lips. The wrong head started steering the right head. "If I can pull Sparda's blood, and I don't pull now, then when?"
That illusion—that he could go gold again—was the same delusion every player had when they threw money at a banner on the very last day.
Completely irrational.
Completely unstoppable.
"One more. Just one."
A classic flag, and his finger was already tapping the 300-point box.
"Give it to me."
The effects exploded again.
He held his breath and stared at the center like sheer willpower could bully the meteor into turning gold.
The light spun, gathered—
Purple.
"Tch."
He fell back, the back of his head thumping the pillow. Half his excitement deflated instantly.
"Off-banner? No, not really—at least it's purple—wait."
He leaned forward and looked again.
As the violet glow faded, a gun appeared—its shape bizarrely elegant.
It didn't have that cold, industrial feel of modern firearms. It looked like an artwork someone had carved with obsessive care.
The barrel was long. The body was made of some unknown metal engraved with intricate, lavish patterns. More than a weapon, it looked like something that belonged behind glass in the Louvre—elegance and madness baked into every line.
And it was modular.
[Item Name: Whisper]
[Quality: Purple]
[Origin: Jhin]
[Type: Arcane/Alchemical Firearm]
[Description: "In carnage, I bloom, like a flower in the dawn."]
[This is the masterpiece of the mad artist known as Jhin. It does not pursue rate of fire. It does not pursue alternating spray. It pursues only perfection—and pain—in each pull of the trigger.]
[Trait: Whisper. This gun holds only four rounds. After emptying the chamber, it automatically reloads over thirty seconds. The final shot is guaranteed to critically strike, and deals additional damage based on the target's missing vitality/stamina.]
[Perfect Curtain Call: Can be disassembled into two forms—pistol and sniper. In pistol form, attack gains a small bonus based on the user's Strength and Constitution. In sniper form, the bonus becomes massive. Sniper-form ammunition recovers at a rate of one round per 44 minutes.]
[Note: You don't have to aim too precisely. If you're strong enough, even the pressure wave from the shot can flip someone off their feet. Still—do try to make it beautiful, for art's sake.]
[When not in use, the item can be stored within the chat group.]
Bai Qian stared at the line about scaling with Strength and Constitution. The corner of his mouth rose… and rose… until it twisted into a grin that was frankly a little alarming.
So don't say I'm "turned on the cheats."
I never turned them off.
He looked down at his hand—the hand that had just fused Sparda's blood.
What did that bloodline give him?
A nonhuman body that could grow strong enough to tear demons apart through battle. Near-limitless stamina. Explosive power.
And what did this gun want?
Not delicate marksmanship.
It wanted you to be built.
"This isn't purple."
He sprang off the bed. With a thought, Whisper appeared in his hands.
The weight hit him—solid, heavy—yet the engraved metal felt cold and refined, and the demonic power in his body practically cheered.
"Never has an opening been so perfect! Applaud me! Praise me!"
He raised a weapon heavier than a normal rifle with one hand, and it felt light as air.
"This is a staff custom-made for a melee mage like me."
He struck a painfully chuuni pose, muzzle pointing somewhere out the window. He didn't squeeze the trigger, but he could already hear the fourth shot—like a curtain call detonating.
The galaxy battleship was roaring.
Brute force wasn't a flaw—it was a doctrine.
Don't tell him to "respect mechanics." Let the mechanics show up first.
The room next door had gone quiet.
Sakiko had probably been mentally shattered by the gold light… or was having a long, intimate talk with her rusty little scythe.
Bai Qian stored Whisper again.
His stomach chose that moment to protest loudly—Sparda's bloodline adjustments came with side effects.
He was starving.
"Boss—Bai Qian—are you still there?"
Sakiko's voice came muffled, like her cheek was pressed against the wallpaper. "That light… that gold… was it really worth a lot?"
Bai Qian could practically picture her: kneeling on the floor, hands clawing at the wall like a fallen noble watching the neighbor feast.
God, it was satisfying.
Heh—he wanted to see her jealous.
"Not much," Bai Qian shouted toward the wall, then dumped his screenshots into the group chat. "Just a bloodline that makes my body better, and a gun. Still gotta grind levels myself, kind of a hassle. Unlike your scythe—you can use that right away. So practical."
The chat immediately filled with the images.
[AAA Customer Service Sakiko]: …
[AAA Customer Service Sakiko]: Why do you love rubbing it in?!
[Phantom Thieves Boss]: You asked! Am I supposed to not answer?!
[Wants Campus Springtime With Mei]: Whoa! Sparda! That Sparda?! I read the game's manga!
[Wants Campus Springtime With Mei]: Boss are you gonna become a demon?! Can you transform?! Can you fly?!
[Rin Tohsaka]: Just the foundation? So it's like giving you top-tier magic circuits but teaching you zero spells.
[Rin Tohsaka]: Still, with growth potential… this is absurd. I'm polishing gems and you went and changed species?
[Dragon Sis Is Dragon]: A strong body is the capital of revolution. Congratulations.
[Legendary Fire-Resistant King]: Mei says dinner is ready.
Bai Qian smiled at the scrolling messages.
He stood up and rolled his shoulders. His bones cracked cleanly.
It felt good.
No greatsword—only Whisper—but at least now he had something real in this Honkai world.
"Alright. Time to eat."
He opened the door.
This was life.
At the stair landing, the scent of rice drifted up—plain, comforting—mixed with the salty warmth of miso soup and the rich oil of fried food.
"I'm digging in—!"
Kiana's voice came from downstairs, followed by the bright clink of chopsticks against bowls.
Bai Qian quickened his steps.
The dining room lights were warm and yellow. The rectangular table wasn't big, yet it was crowded to bursting.
Kiana was shoveling fried chicken into her mouth with zero dignity, cheeks puffed like a hamster. Even while eating, her gold eye was still faintly glowing, making her look a little ridiculous.
Talulah sat opposite her, her chopstick grip slightly awkward, but her back was straight as a spear; she ate each bite with solemn seriousness.
Sakiko sat in a corner with a bowl of white rice. She still looked heartbroken over the loss of her "million yen," but her hands didn't stop moving—either grief had become appetite, or she simply believed that skipping a free meal was basically losing money twice.
Rin Tohsaka was the most normal-looking person there, except for the way Kiana's eating made her wince now and then.
Herta wasn't present. According to her in-chat message, eating was less important than sleeping, and her physique didn't require food anyway.
"Oh, Bai Qian, you're down."
Mei came out from the kitchen carrying the last dish. She still wore her apron.
A pale pink home apron with cute cartoon bears on it.
"Sit. The rice is fresh."
She set the plate down and wiped her cheek—there wasn't even anything there—an unconscious, domestic gesture like a wife greeting someone home.
"Do you think we should let the Herrscher of Thunder come out to eat?" Mei asked after a moment. "She might be… afraid of you. If possible, I'd like to borrow your Evoker later and let her come out then, for dinner."
"Let you two have time alone," Bai Qian said. "I'll eat first."
He picked up his chopsticks and scanned the food.
It looked decent: golden fried chicken, glossy stir-fried greens, miso soup with tofu and seaweed.
And to his left sat a quiet, half-transparent figure.
Melina.
She still wore her dark brown cloak. Her single golden eye rested on the table.
"Um… Miss Melina, you're not eating?" Mei asked carefully.
Kiana, mouth full of chicken, mumbled, "This fried chicken is so good!"
Melina shook her head gently.
"I have no physical body. I do not require food."
But glancing at Kiana and Talulah eating with such focus—perhaps not wanting to break the atmosphere—she picked up a fork, speared a piece of fried chicken, and brought it to her mouth.
"However, since it is everyone's kindness…"
"…the Lands Between do not have food like this."
She gave the shortest verdict and withdrew her hand back into her sleeves.
"Very good."
Bai Qian watched and felt something twist softly in his chest.
Poor kid—so picky. One day he'd drag her to McDonald's for the sacred healing ritual.
He stopped thinking and took the best-looking piece of fried chicken, biting down.
Crunch.
Crispy batter, chicken—
…Hm.
His chewing paused.
How to put it…
It was cooked, but the meat was dry.
This was Mei's current level.
She hadn't been tempered by time yet. She hadn't reached the era of researching recipe after recipe just to make Kiana happy.
Right now, she was simply a rich girl who could cook… in the sense of "she can make it edible."
He swallowed the slightly dry chicken.
The hunger from Sparda's bloodline made it taste fine, honestly. But as someone raised by modern delivery apps, his objective rating could only be: average.
"How is it?"
A small, cautious voice came from across the table.
Bai Qian looked up.
Mei hadn't touched her chopsticks. Under the table, her hands were twisting the edge of her apron until it wrinkled. Her violet eyes were locked on him, unblinking, lips pressed tight.
"It's really good."
He took a big bite of greens, even more decisively than before.
"It has… a kind of taste that makes you calm down."
"Haa…"
Mei let out a long breath, like she'd put down a mountain.
Her shoulders loosened. Her tense spine finally settled against the chair. Her violet eyes curved slightly as she said nothing extra—only picked up her chopsticks and took a piece of that same dry fried chicken.
"That's good."
"Uh-huh, great, Mei doesn't even ask me what I think."
Kiana's voice sounded weirdly sour.
Wait, no—she hadn't done anything wrong. She was the one who met Mei first. She was the one who brought Bai Qian here.
So why did it feel like this?
Was Bai Qian secretly some galgame master?
After they finished eating, the empty plates were still on the table.
Everyone stayed seated. The atmosphere was looser than before, but there was a tightness beneath it now—an invisible thread drawn taut.
They all knew it was time to talk business.
"So now it's just Bronya and Cocolia, right?" Kiana twirled a toothpick over the tabletop, absentmindedly drawing circles. "She's probably hiding somewhere watching us like a creepy stalker."
Talulah leaned back with arms crossed, eyes on the gap in the curtains. "If this were Ursus, they'd poison the food instead of waiting until now."
Sakiko shivered and quietly pushed her water cup farther away.
"Poisoning is kind of… low," Kiana protested.
"Sometimes efficiency is everything," Talulah replied coolly. "I won't use those methods. That doesn't mean others won't."
Bai Qian didn't join the debate over whether poison was "tasteful."
He sat there, turning the S.E.E.S. Evoker in his fingers like a pen.
"Bronya Zaychik."
He stopped the spin. The Evoker clicked into his palm.
"We had fun beating people up, but the real boss—Cocolia—and her ace are still lurking behind the scenes." He looked around the table. "If we want to arrest Cocolia, we have to get past Bronya first. Problem is, we have no intel. We can't even find her."
"The best solution is… to emotionally persuade her by exploiting love."
He said it with a straight face.
"If we had Seele, we could just stand at the door and have her shout, 'Big sister Bronya!' I guarantee Bronya would defect on the spot and blow up Cocolia's hideout herself."
"Seele?" Kiana blinked. She'd never heard that name.
"Yeah. She shows up later in the story," Bai Qian said, spreading his hands mournfully. "She falls into the Sea of Quanta for Bronya."
"Unfortunately we don't have Seele right now. Even if I dove into the Sea of Quanta to fish her out, odds are I'd just sink with her."
No Seele meant no ultimate weapon to crack Bronya's heart.
Bai Qian raked a hand through his hair in irritation.
Did he really have to use Whisper to snipe that little bunny drone?
It wasn't impossible… but it was the kind of thing you'd save for a fourth shot, and it would probably become a blood feud.
His gaze drifted around the room with no focus: over Kiana picking her teeth, over Talulah's serious face—
Until it landed on the half-transparent figure fiddling with the TV remote like she was studying it.
Melina.
A translucent spirit.
No physical body.
In a sense… oddly similar to a quantum state, like Seele.
And Bronya wouldn't necessarily know what Seele looked like after she came back. She wouldn't have a clear basis for judgment.
And—
Bai Qian narrowed his eyes, looking Melina up and down.
Different hair color. Totally different vibe.
But the build was similar. With some makeup, a hair color change, plus that half-transparent body…
A plan formed in his mind so quickly—and so shamelessly—it almost made him proud.
Melina could hold a fork. That meant she could handle physical contact, which meant cosmetics might actually work.
As a Phantom Thief, he knew a bit about disguise. With Arsène's precision, it might truly be doable.
Having a solution was everything.
"I know what we do. We need strategy."
He raised a finger.
"Psychological warfare first."
"Psychological warfare?" Kiana blinked. "So… we go 'talk-no-jutsu' her? Tell her her mom is evil and she should come eat fried chicken with us?"
"More or less," Bai Qian said. "But dirtier."
"…Bai Qian?"
Rin noticed his expression—the look of a black-hearted boss spotting free labor.
"Melina."
Hearing her name, Melina looked up, puzzled.
Bai Qian stood, walked straight to her, and stopped in front of her.
"This is the request of my entire life!"
His voice echoed through the dining room with the energy of a man about to commit something unforgivable.
"Please… pretend to be Seele!"
-------
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