Taesin paused on the villa terrace, the city lights flickering below. Why go back to Solaria after betraying it? His chest tightened. Consequences weighed heavily, a knot of unease he couldn't shake. Every heartbeat felt loud, echoing in his chest as if the world was holding its breath.
"Bring my clothes," he said to Ayano and Akino, voice calm but fingers flexing unconsciously.
He dressed in black pants, a black shirt, and a long open jacket. Numerous nano-particles slid from his neck, covering the lower half of his face in a fanged mask. They clicked into place with a faint hum. Taesin caught his reflection: the mask was sharp, intimidating, untouchable — yet his eyes behind it were restless, calculating, alive with tension and anticipation.
"Load the chopper on Mag-51," he ordered Amagi.
She nodded, expression serene, precise. "Already done."
Taesin allowed a small smirk. Trust was silent here — absolute, unspoken — but heavy.
"Let's roll," he said, stepping outside.
Ayun's movements were precise, almost robotic, though a faint tilt of her head hinted at curiosity. Eun-Ji followed, smooth and controlled, posture perfect. Amagi moved with flawless efficiency. Akino and Ayano mirrored the same precision, and Luna's gaze lingered at the terrace edge, perfectly composed, yet just perceptibly attentive.
Above them, a jet-black, twin-engine blade craft with angular wings and glowing thrusters, built for speed and vertical takeoff, hovered. Its predator frame blended fighter-jet agility with dropship ability. The thrusters hummed softly, alive in the air, echoing anticipation.
Small thrusters unfolded beneath their boots. Panels opened with a hiss, magnetic pads gripping them as they rose. Wind tugged at Taesin's jacket, chilling him. His chest tightened. The Mag-S1's back doors opened, revealing the glowing interior. Luna watched quietly, but emotion was almost imperceptible. Taesin felt the silent weight of leaving someone behind, a subtle pang of responsibility.
Inside, Mag-51 roared. Taesin felt the vibration through his bones, pulse quickening. "Burst shot mode," he ordered. The craft surged, pressing them into the seats. Air vibrated against his skin; every heartbeat felt magnified.
Near the border, Taesin activated retro-reflective panels and stealth mode. Light bent around them. The world couldn't see them, but his awareness, tension, and caution heightened.
At the deal location, the timing had failed. His jaw clenched. Adrenaline burned in his stomach. They would improvise — failure was not an option.
"Here's the plan," he said. "Ambush after the deal. Retrieve neuronium."
Arin tilted her head, tiny smirk forming under the crimson fanged mask. "Why not break in directly? They're stronger than us." Precision and calculation guided her, with only a faint trace of human-like amusement.
Taesin scanned the team. "Small moves. Precise strikes. No attention."
Each robot acknowledged. Their movements were perfect, fluid, unerring — only subtle cues hinted at curiosity or focus. The human weight of risk rested entirely on Taesin.
On the streets of Noxora, neon reflected off wet asphalt. Exhaust and food scents mingled. Taesin's chest tightened. Every sense was alert: engines, voices, distant sirens. Life moved on below, oblivious to danger; death lurked at every corner.
Mag-51 lowered altitude. Taesin mounted the sleek futuristic combat bike of gold and cobalt, four glowing energy wheels two at front and two at back humming like turbines. Its blade-like frame and armored plating suggested hidden weapons. The vibrations traveled through his body, every nerve alive.
Amagi followed on Mattel, a low-slung electric-blue racer with sharp curves, neon-green windows, and white-rimmed wheels, bold decals streaking its body. The car purred perfectly under her control, ready to transform if necessary. Her expression was serene, precise, almost machine-like, only a faint acknowledgment of the unfolding situation.
Together, Chopper and Mattel roared through streets, vibrations and hums syncing with Taesin's racing heartbeat. The machines were alive, but the girls' movements were flawless, robotic, with only minimal traces of human-like reactions.
The luxury hotel loomed. Mag-51 disengaged stealth; panels folded with mechanical precision. The rear gate opened. Arin leapt onto the roof. Dust rose, but her movements were exact, every landing precise. Heartbeat and adrenaline were absent in her — only Taesin's awareness carried the human tension.
Guards fired. Arin remained perfectly composed. Mini holes rotated from her arms, spinning into firing position. Each shot precise. Only the tiniest hint of smug satisfaction crossed her mask.
A guard tried to alert others via walkie-talkie. Arin's signal interference was immediate. No hesitation, no fear — just robotic efficiency.
She retracted the mini holes, walking toward the last guard. She says with an angry expression on her face
"How dare you take what my master spend years building"
She ripped his head off — precise, controlled, yet the faintest human-like awareness of consequences flickered through her posture.
Scanning the building, she sensed the neuronium's energy. Picking up a dead guard's I.D., nano-pixels wrapped her body, shifting her appearance seamlessly. Every motion remained perfect, controlled — almost inhumanly precise.
The corridor awaited. The neuronium awaited. And beneath it all, Taesin felt every heartbeat, every tension, every risk, while the humanoid robots executed their roles flawlessly, with only subtle traces of emotion — smirks, tilts of the head, microexpressions.