Brush's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't on the battlefield.
He wasn't even in a familiar digital domain.
Instead…
Wooden planks. Wheels creaking. Dust in the air.
"Ugh… where am I?" Brush muttered, rubbing his temples.
He blinked. Around him sat Hikaru, Crunchyroller, and Equinox—all glaring, smiling, or leaning just a little too close.
"Good morning," Hikaru said, her katana resting across her lap.
"You fainted after the last probability surge."
Crunchyroller tilted her head, a faint smirk on her face.
"You really are exhausting," she said, leaning a little closer.
"Almost… too perfect."
Equinox floated near, eyes glimmering mischievously.
"And we think you need a little… motivation," she whispered, inching toward him.
Brush froze. His heart rate spiked.
"Motivation?" he muttered, already realizing what that meant.
Hikaru's cheeks tinted slightly.
"Well… it's tradition to wake the Chosen One properly," she said, leaning forward.
Crunchyroller and Equinox mirrored her movements. The wagon suddenly felt much smaller, much closer, and a lot more dangerous in a personal space kind of way.
"I… I survived meta-units, probability, millions of SSRs, and the Gacha Master…" Brush muttered to himself,
"…and now I'm scared of this?"
Equinox giggled.
"C'mon, Chosen One," she teased.
"It won't hurt… much."
Hikaru and Crunchyroller leaned in as well.
"Focus," Brush whispered,
"…focus…"
He sat up straighter, the Seed of the Internet pulsing faintly—ready to intervene if things went too far.
"Not again," he muttered under his breath.
"I need to survive this… kiss attack."
The wagon rattled down a dirt path. The world outside blurred, but inside, the three figures pressed closer, smiles teasing, intent obvious.
Brush's mind raced:
How to dodge without offending?
How to maintain party morale?
And how to not get killed by affection overload?
One thing was clear. The battle outside had been chaotic, impossible, world-shaking—but this… this was just as dangerous in its own way.