Nsergia and the "trained navigator Bangboo" behind her were friends…
If that was true, did it mean that kid had ties to the Huáistà Society? And if he could even lend out a partner who functioned like a close bodyguard, then the relationship between them had to be… more than ordinary.
So what was that kid to her?
A lover? A sweetheart? A couple?
No—wait. Yanagi Tsukishiro, this is not the time to be thinking about that. And besides, the one connected to the kid might even be a man.
Right now, the priority was confirming the chief's condition.
Forcing down the stray thoughts that sprang up like bamboo shoots after rain, Yanagi pulled her gaze away from Eous and pressed her fingers to the earpiece.
"Miyabi! What's your status? Are you okay?"
"Not really."
Hearing Hoshimi Miyabi's answer, Yanagi's brow tightened with worry. But before she could ask further, the fox Thiren started speaking in that maddeningly poetic way again.
"That slash just now—by all rights it should have been crisp, like a wooden mallet tapping porcelain. Yet what I felt through the blade was sluggish, like chalk scraping a blackboard."
"Chief means… a butter-cutting swing hit the chopping board!" Soukaku blurted out.
"That explanation makes it even harder to understand," Harumasa sighed.
Harumasa Asaba looked helplessly at Soukaku—who could have said it plainly but insisted on metaphors. He mostly got the point, but his lifelong habit of dodging effort made him turn an imploring look toward the only truly reliable adult present.
Yanagi, the perfect embodiment of "this team would fall apart without her," translated both Miyabi and Soukaku into normal language.
"What Chief means is: that strike didn't seriously injure Nineveh. We need to confirm where it went."
"Ah, now that's crystal clear." Harumasa cracked his neck. "Leave reconnaissance to me. That thing's huge—hard to lose. And my condition right now is… amazing."
"Harumasa, don't talk like some old general on an opera stage!" Soukaku scolded.
Harumasa almost threw out his back mid-stretch. But when he turned and saw Soukaku's innocent eyes, the sarcasm in his throat died instantly, snuffed like a brazier buried under an avalanche.
He could only rub her head with a resigned smile.
"Don't treat me like some sick kitten, Soukaku."
Then he scanned the area, yawned, and pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back.
"Ugh. Great. More work for me."
"The Ethereals are gathering," Yanagi reported. "Probably drawn in by the battle between Chief and Nineveh. We'll handle clearing them—okay, Chief?"
"Mm. Section 6—prepare to engage."
At Miyabi's command, the first to move wasn't Yanagi's blade, Harumasa's bow, or Soukaku's "Goose—Chicken—Slash."
It was Nsergia.
The little Bangboo kicked off with its stubby legs, spun in midair, and elbowed an Ethereal that had just popped its head out.
"Mm neh neh, mm mm neh! (A drop of kindness deserves a spring of repayment! Eat my Black Mamba!)"
The poor Ethereal didn't even manage a battle cry before its core was shattered.
But the war drums had already sounded. Section 6 surged forward in full force—and even Eous, who'd been hiding, produced a few tiny bombs from some completely impossible place and started lobbing them from the edge like an enthusiastic spectator.
For that moment, this place truly looked like a realm of vigorous life—everything thriving, everything bursting into motion…
The air reeked of cheap disinfectant and the sweet-metal sting of rust.
Harsh white artificial light washed over her body. Everything around her was the same as before: cold machinery, ticking machinery, machinery both icy and moving as it pierced into her.
In the silence, those sounds were so loud she couldn't sleep.
She reached out into emptiness.
In her perception, there should have been something in her arms—
but when she actually touched herself, all she felt was the cold brush of metal over skin that was as soft as any normal person's… maybe even softer.
"…Who… who am I? Where am I?"
A voice drifted into her ear.
"I'd heard rumors that after severe injuries, Silver Army personnel can develop amnesia. But for symptoms to recur at this severity from only this much damage…"
The voice that had seemed distant a moment ago was suddenly right beside her. A warm breath brushed her ear—like a snake tasting the air.
The tone was sweet.
The reality beneath it was ice.
Then a scalpel stabbed into her body.
First came a tiny chill.
Then pain exploded—violent, all-consuming.
Cui Ji snapped her eyes open. The fog of "confusion" vanished from her face in an instant, replaced by raw, unmistakable agony.
She stared at the black doctor in front of her: scalpel in hand, twisting and stirring with exquisite control—inflicting pain with precision, never worsening the wound, only making sure she felt it.
Cui Ji wrenched her mouth into a mocking smile—
only for it to twist into something grotesque and tragic the moment the doctor's movements intensified, like a caricature of a man being burned alive.
"You do this…" she hissed, "…and you're not afraid he'll find out?"
The hand slowed.
Cui Ji's body loosened—just for a heartbeat—
"AAAAAAAH—!"
A needle drove into her neck. The black doctor pressed the plunger.
A golden liquid flooded into her bloodstream.
At first, it was a brief, suffocating pressure.
Then hell arrived.
That was no medicine. It was molten metal. Boiling magma—forced into her fragile jugular.
A pain beyond imagining detonated inside her, roaring through her veins, stabbing, burning, tearing! It surged into her skull, shredding every nerve ending as if it meant to boil her brain to soup.
She tried to lift her head, but the black doctor's hand clamped down like iron tongs, pinning her so hard it felt like her cervical spine would snap.
Then the doctor leaned in and whispered to her through tears:
"This is the last step of the treatment. If you don't want to be useless, don't move. Don't waste that kid's effort."
"Cui Ji… you're going to take revenge. Aren't you?"
Right.
Yes.
I'm going to take revenge.
I will avenge my innocent sisters who died—
The pain became a tangible tsunami, crashing harder and harder, battering the levee of her consciousness until it nearly broke. Every second stretched into a century. In that pure furnace of torment, she felt herself being dissolved and reshaped from the inside out, remade by fire.
But she stopped struggling.
Like a prisoner locked inside an iron maiden, she accepted it with something close to devotion—welcoming this…
…rebirth.
"Nirvana," the black doctor murmured almost fondly. "When that kid came last time, he left me only two specimens. Rare ones."
The doctor released her and looked at the monitor—at the Ether corruption index plummeting at a terrifying rate.
She laughed, wild and greedy, desire spilling from her eyes like wine sloshing over a full cup.
"As expected… it really is that kid."
"He actually managed to get it."
"But the raw materials are a nightmare to source. Still… the previous one is almost fully analyzed. And this—taken from a high-tier Ethereal…"
"Hm. Looks like I'll have to post a few commissions on the Inter-Knot later."
"…Good thing I've got you, Cui Ji."
The black doctor's smile deepened as she watched Cui Ji still fighting through the agony.
"That kid won't let me harvest organs directly from Silver Army clones. Honestly."
"People are easy—just a fertilized egg and a womb."
"But inducing specific tissues and organs on command? That's much harder."
"But if he refuses… fine. I'll challenge myself."
"And with you here, it shouldn't take too long."
"Chiya… my beloved apprentice…"
"You're so cold during the day… yet somehow warmer at night."
"So…"
"When will you finally abandon that naïveté…?"
"Trigger…"
"I'm here."
"Why are you in my bed?"
"Then why was Miss Jane in your bed?"
"Huh?!" Chiya froze. "Y-you… me… that… wait! How do you know that?!"
Watching Chiya—the puffy, flustered pufferfish—instantly collapse into panic like a lamb hearing thunder, Trigger felt herself loosen with relief.
And yet, a quiet grievance still pricked at her chest.
It was me.
I was first.
First to arrive… first to hold his hand… first to hug him… first to fall for him.
Why—why, Chiya—do you stand so close to a latecomer?
Why can she hold you without restraint, while I get interrogated like I'm the one at fault?
Trigger's visor shifted into a deep, cold blue—like seawater turned to ice. A sorrow rose from her like mist made solid, chilling the warmth of the room by a few degrees.
She looked at Chiya—cheeks flushed, eyes darting, clearly trying to hide—and her voice, no longer steady, no longer teasing, trembled with something broken and tightly restrained.
"Why… does your gaze… always fall on her?"
"Why… do you let her come close as she pleases… but with me…"
"…you act like I'm some flood or beast you have to guard against?"
"I knew you first, Chiya."
"And the one who's stayed by your side the longest…"
"…is me."
Chiya went completely still.
He stared at the woman who was always strong, always dependable—sometimes awkwardly gentle—now fragile enough to shatter at a touch.
The deep blue of her visor hid everything and revealed everything at once; the grief around her only surged harder.
Chiya's throat locked, as if he'd swallowed snow.
He couldn't speak.
It's my fault.
The little tuft of hair on Chiya's head drooped with him as he lowered his head, eyes glued to the floor like he wanted to burn a hole straight through the carpet—so he could crawl into it and hide like a hamster.
But what he didn't see—
was that Trigger's visor had already shifted from blue to pink.
Her hands had slipped behind her back. They were still shaking.
Not from sadness.
From the sheer effort of restraining her joy.
A captain's words echoed in her mind:
"For a man, a girl's blush is worth more than a thousand confessions. Likewise, a girl's choking sob is worth more than a thousand useless accusations."
"I don't know why you wronged that kid—or why you loved him in that way—but as your captain, I truly hope you find happiness."
"So find an opportunity to vent your grievances to him. You might get results you never expected."
Captain Ghostfire… thank you.
Trigger drew in a breath, suppressing her excitement, stepped forward—and pulled Chiya into her arms.
She stroked his hair, her fingers pausing when they found that little cowlick.
Then her hand shifted aside.
Her lips closed over it.
"Mm?!"
Chiya didn't understand why Trigger also liked biting his cowlick. Maybe it was a universal condition among them.
But he felt guilty—so he lowered his head and obediently offered it up to the grieving sniper.
A long time passed before Trigger finally released him.
"Trigger… are you feeling better now?"
"No."
"Um… I'm sorry…"
"I've never been angry at you, Chiya," Trigger said softly. "So how could I need to 'calm down'?"
"Then what was that just now?!"
Chiya jerked his head up—only to be pressed back into her chest. But he'd already caught the delighted curve of her smile.
"Trigger… you're mean."
"…Now I'm angry," Trigger declared. "And as compensation, you're coming with me to Lumina Square—so I can buy red bean buns."
"No. I've got energy bars…"
He felt her arms tighten.
His brain—urged by survival instincts—made the only decision appropriate to the situation.
"…Fine! I'll go with you!"
Only then did Trigger nod in satisfaction. Then, like No. 11 "sniffing a cat," she took a deep inhale of Chiya, utterly content, and finally let him go.
Seeing her smiling so happily, Chiya grew indignant.
"T-then you have to come with me too! Lumina Square—hot pot! I'm ordering the spiciest yin-yang pot! Hmph!"
"Mm…" Trigger's smile only widened. "Hot pot with Chiya… yin-yang pot… hehehe. That's a good suggestion."
Chiya suddenly regretted it, but he couldn't swallow the words he'd already said.
Trigger, on the other hand, was already impatient.
"Chiya, it's late. Let's go."
She grabbed him and dragged him out the door.
"Okay… I'll call Nsergia…"
"Nsergia—Nsergia?"
"…Where's Nsergia?"
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 120)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 85)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter85)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter81)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter60)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter66)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 40
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 50
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