Himeko shrugged off her greatcoat and strode for Hyperion's launch bay.
"Bring Reactors Five and Six online. Hold reactor output; shift drive power to auxiliary."
"In two minutes, drop the ship to the Herrscher's altitude."
Not even a glamorous evening dress could blunt Himeko's snap-decision edge.
"Wait! You're going to use that?!" her adjutant blurted.
"We don't have time to think up other exits," Himeko said, utterly unconcerned.
"But the Council ordered a live capture…" the adjutant still tried to dissuade her.
"It's too late for that! If we wait on the Council, we'll be buried here and leave our ashes for someone else to dig up."
Himeko didn't look back. She peeled the gown from her body.
Black stockings and lace underthings barely veiled a flawless figure.
"And besides…" She bit off a black silk glove with her teeth, voice lazy: "I'm a woman who—once the clothes come off—finishes the job."
She quickened toward the bay door, hands crossing to tear away the bust, then the lace below.
"Ship's yours for now~"
"…Good grief." The adjutant pushed her glasses up; on the deck in front of her lay a small triangle of black lace.
At the far end of the bay, before a wash of white light, Himeko—now wearing only thigh-high black lace stockings—stood upon a circular platform ringed by dozens of robotic arms.
"Aux power engaged. Beginning descent prep!"
Hyperion's report doubled as a start command. The arms spun to life.
Each arm bore a plate of armor; they began mounting them to Himeko piece by piece.
"A woman who finishes the job once the dress comes off? I like that."
A voice cut in at the worst possible moment—right behind her.
"Who are you—how did you get aboard Hyperion?!" the adjutant gasped. She was sure the bay had been empty seconds ago.
Tatsuki stood there, lazily kneading that black triangle of lace—still faintly warm… and damp.
"!!!"
Himeko turned, eyes wide—but couldn't move.
This was the critical stage of the suit-up. Precision Valkyrie armor didn't allow stray garments that could jam linkage, and movement during mounting was strictly forbidden.
On top of that, Himeko's rig wasn't just Valkyrie armor—it was an exoskeleton system. Installation required total stillness.
"I've been here the whole time," Tatsuki said, amused. "Saw a gallant beauty. Quite the view."
Under his leisurely gaze, a manipulator slid in between Himeko's thighs; the final plate seated flush against the most intimate gap. A tremor flickered across Himeko's face, red to the ears.
The arms worked fast. In under a minute, the frame clicked into place.
Himeko stood completed in a tight red battlesuit—sleek, powerful, gorgeous.
She pivoted at once, snatching the greatsword from the rack and leveling it at Tatsuki.
She drew breath to demand his purpose—Tatsuki flicked the lace triangle open with two fingers and glanced up. "Shouldn't you be more worried about the Herrscher behind you than the spectator in front?"
"!!!"
The reminder hit. Himeko's mission came roaring back.
Feeling the surge of thunder at her back, she whipped around and brought the blade down—
ZZZT!
…
Far East Branch, Council Chamber.
The councilors exploded as the update hit.
"Squad Five is engaging the Herrscher. One A-rank Valkyrie cannot defeat a Herrscher alone."
"We must contact Central and deploy S-rank Valkyries immediately."
Valkyries—Schicksal's front-line anti-Honkai fighters—were tasked with eliminating or capturing Deadwalkers, Honkai Beasts, and more.
Honkai eruptions flood the field with energy. Normal people in high concentrations are quickly corroded into Deadwalkers.
Some, however, show resistance and can fight back. Females—especially young women—adapt far better, so most front liners are girls, called Valkyries.
Schicksal classifies them into B, A, and S. B and A make up the bulk of combat power. S-rank are strategic deterrents—each can level vast areas.
A Herrscher is humanity's greatest enemy in Honkai history; A-rank alone won't cut it.
"Central's fastest task force will still need forty-five minutes to reach Changkong. We must stall the Herrscher until then."
"Lady Theresa! Order the entire Far East Branch to sortie at once!"
A councilor appealed to the tiny figure seated—well, perched—at the front.
"Now is not the time."
Theresa Apocalypse cut the motion down. As acting overall commander, she could veto any order. It helped that behind her stood that man—
Otto Apocalypse: her grandfather, the Bishop of Schicksal, supreme ruler of the organization.
"Charging in blind will only raise casualties."
"Trust Major Himeko. Hyperion's crew are the Far East's elite."
Her porcelain doll face held no levity. "And Hyperion is carrying a trump card."
A trump card?
The word sparked a memory—vague files, redacted specs. The chamber buzzed anew.
"You mean the still-in-testing exoskeleton armor system that can spike a Valkyrie's combat output?"
"If that's online, we might match a Herrscher!"
"Is that thing ready for live combat?"
They knew just enough about the new rig's potential to talk themselves breathless—exactly what Theresa needed to steady the room.
She lowered her gaze. In those blue eyes, a thread of worry hid and said nothing.
At length, she whispered a prayer only she could hear:
"I'm counting on you."
....
For every 100 Power Stones → +1 extra chapter.
Read 50+ chapters ahead on Patreon! [patreon.com/METARLN]