March 9th, 2012 — 8:10 AM
Capital Upper Avenue — Path to Asura Academy
Perspective: Asier Yeshe
The morning air in the capital was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and roasted barley from the outer market stalls.
I walked at a steady, unhurried pace along the cobblestone avenue, my hands resting in the pockets of my pristine Class A uniform. My face was completely devoid of expression.
I do not know how to cook.
It is an inefficient allocation of mental power. The process requires ingredient procurement, caloric calculation, thermal regulation, and subsequent sanitation of cookware. Therefore, I walked three blocks out of my way to a tavern near the plaza and consumed two hard-boiled eggs and a slice of dry rye toast for 4 copper coins.
It solved the physiological deficit, but waking up 20 minutes earlier to eat elsewhere is an undesirable headache.
I need to optimize a zero-effort breakfast routine.
My mind shifted to the upcoming evaluation.
Yesterday afternoon, our homeroom instructor, Instructor Columbina, outlined the operational architecture of the 2nd Monthly Exam: The Tri-Labyrinth Siege: Life Nexus.
Her explanation was structured, dramatic, and laced with veiled threats about maintaining Class A's absolute supremacy. Stripping away her theatrical rhetoric, the entire examination can be reduced to a clean, three-tiered pyramid of strategic constraints:
At the apex lies the singular objective: Do not finish in 3rd place.
In a three-way battle between Class A, Class B, and Class C, 1st place and 2nd place are functionally identical. Both avoid the expulsion threshold. Only the 3rd-place class suffers the mandatory 0.1 percent Health Matrix penalty and faces an internal expulsion vote.
At the middle tier are the operational mechanics: The 2 Life Nexus anchors and 6 Protectors.
One anchor is chosen by class vote. The second anchor is selected randomly by the academy's simulation array. Both anchors are sealed inside isolated containment booths within the labyrinth, unable to fight or cast outward spells. The 6 Protectors must defend their sealed anchors while simultaneously navigating the labyrinth to destroy the enemy booths.
At the base tier are the hidden evaluation metrics:
1. Class cohesion under information asymmetry (communication between the isolated anchors and mobile Protectors).
2. Resource allocation and split-force doctrine (the ratio between defensive garrison and offensive strike units).
3. Target prioritization (calculating whether it is mathematically safer to crush the weakest class or ambush the strongest).
4. Contingency resolution (the sudden-death 10-minute countdown and the final 1-on-1 duel in case of a draw).
The school is not testing pure destructive output. They are testing elimination calculus.
Because I maintain zero social alliances within Class A and rarely speak during homeroom, my popularity is near zero. If Class A were to suffer a catastrophic collapse and face an expulsion ballot, Lucas Reinhardt and I would be the favorites for elimination.
Lucas because his arrogance alienates people; me because nobody would notice if I vanished.
Therefore, Class A must not lose.
The question is simple: Whom should Class A target?
Class C or Class B?
In the first monthly exam, I maintained the absolute minimum contribution required to avoid suspicion. I noticed the staggered pairing trap Valerius Vane set against Kaiser, Scarlet, and Axel early on. But it was not my responsibility to intervene. Letting events unfold naturally was the optimal path—and Kaiser Everhart exploited the flaw and dismantled the system effortlessly.
Targeting Class C in this exam would mean hunting their voted anchor.
And their voted anchor will undeniably be Elfina Lunaris.
Targeting Elfina Lunaris means making an active enemy of Cell 000981—Kaiser Everhart.
For a person seeking a peaceful, low-effort academic life, initiating hostilities with 000981 is like drinking rat poison in the desperate hope that it will cure a mild morning fever.
It is illogical, counter-productive, and suicidal.
Which leaves Class B.
Class B operates under a fragile, egotistical duarchy: Sylvia Somerset and Victor Sterling.
Their anchor structure is predictable. Class B will vote either Sylvia or Victor into the primary booth to preserve their leadership pride, while their second anchor will be a random student.
Sylvia relies on defensive hydro-barriers and calculated attrition, but her vanity makes her susceptible to baiting. Victor possesses immense mana density and high charisma, but his tactical intellect is linear—he views conflict as an arena to display dominance rather than an optimization problem.
If Class A directs its full military might at Class B, I can comfortably blend into the background as an ordinary Protector, cast basic support spells, avoid any physical strain, and watch Class B implode.
Getting Victor or Sylvia expelled would permanently stabilize the academic ecosystem and remove a source of loud, unnecessary drama from the academy halls.
In fact, Victor and Sylvia's boundless arrogance will likely do the work for us. They will see Elfina Lunaris's Rank 0 status and convince themselves that hunting Class C is an easy victory. They will march directly into Kaiser Everhart's crosshairs, provoke 000981, and get themselves methodically destroyed without Class A needing to lift a finger.
A satisfactory deduction.
Now, if only I could solve my breakfast dilemma.
A loud, agitated voice from the side street broke my train of thought.
I stopped near the corner of the market promenade, looking toward an open-air poultry cart.
Standing before the cart was Kaiser Everhart.
He was wearing his standard dark hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to his forearms, leaning casually over a large wooden crate filled with clucking brown and white hens. Beside the crate sat a wicker basket overflowing with fresh brown eggs.
The egg merchant, a burly middle-aged man with a stained apron and a receding hairline, was staring at Kaiser with deep bewilderment.
Kaiser reached into the basket, picked up a single brown egg, inspected it under the morning sunlight, and smoothly slipped it into the front pocket of his hoodie.
The merchant blinked. "Hey! Kid! What are you doing taking an egg for free?!"
Kaiser didn't flinch. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a tone of deep, sincere philosophical concern.
"Tell me, uncle... you love these chicken eggs very much, don't you?"
The merchant recoiled slightly, scratching his chin. "Uh... yeah? I sell them to make a living."
"And I know that in your heart, uncle, you also deeply love customers who help you survive by purchasing these goods off your hands. Isn't that right?"
"Well... yeah, obviously. Customers pay my rent."
Kaiser gave a firm, satisfied nod, patting the pocket with the stolen egg.
"You have passed the test." Kaiser declared with profound gravity.
I stared at him from 20 feet away, my face totally flat.
He asked the question himself. He answered the question himself. And then he graded the merchant's result himself.
'You have passed.'
What on earth happened to the terrifying devil of the 20th generation?
The merchant stood frozen for three full seconds, his brain struggling to process the interaction, before he pointed an angry finger at the chicken crate.
"Hey! What test?! What are you talking about?! If you want eggs, buy them! They're 1 copper for three!"
Kaiser shook his head with a look of mild disappointment. "Uncle, buying eggs every single morning is a scam. A man cannot walk to the market daily just to sustain his morning eggs. It's about the mindset. I need a dedicated, on-site production facility."
"A production facility?!" the merchant shouted. "Kid, this is a poultry stall!"
"Precisely," Kaiser said, pointing directly into the crate. "I am here to purchase a chicken. But I have specific baseline requirements."
"Fine! Pick one! A healthy laying hen is 8 copper coins!"
The greater the minds, the greater the goals... 😔
Kaiser leaned over the crate, narrowing his blue eyes with intense, clinical scrutiny.
"I need a polite chicken," Kaiser explained, pointing into the crate with a straight face. "One that doesn't make annoying noises in my dorm room, wakes up on time, and drops two fresh, big eggs by 7:00 AM every morning."
The merchant's jaw dropped. "Two eggs every day by 7:00 AM?! Are you crazy?! Chickens lay whenever they want, not on a school bell! No chicken in the world lays two eggs every single day!"
"Then your chickens are lazy," Kaiser concluded with a sigh. "If the chicken is slacking off, why should I pay full price? That cuts the value down from 8 coppers to 4."
"Lazy?! My hens are the hardest working birds in the capital!"
"Uncle, look at the white one in the corner," Kaiser continued, casually tapping the wood. "She looks sad. Her feathers are all messed up. The moment I take her home, she's going to get homesick and stop laying eggs for two weeks. That's money down the drain. Minus 2 coppers."
"Stop making up random illnesses to rob me!" the merchant cried, clutching his hair. "Just take a normal brown hen for 6 coppers and get lost!"
"Look at the brown one's beak," Kaiser pointed out calmly, leaning closer. "Her beak is crooked. She can't even chew her corn straight. If she eats crooked, her eggs will come out crooked and crack in my boiling pot. Uncle, this isn't a chicken, this is a headache on two legs."
"A headache on two legs?!" The merchant's face was turning purple. "It's a bird! It eats grain and drops eggs!"
"Honestly, taking this troublemaker off your hands is basically community service," Kaiser reasoned without blinking. "You should probably be paying me 1 copper to clean up your stall. But because I'm a nice guy, I'll take that speckled one in the middle for free."
"TAKE IT FOR FREE!" the merchant finally screamed in sheer, broken agony, slamming both hands on the cart. "Take the damn bird and give me peace! Just get away from my shop before my head explodes!"
Kaiser raised a hand, looking at the sobbing merchant with deep, virtuous restraint.
"Uncle, relax. I'm not a beggar."
Kaiser reached into his pocket, pulled out a single shiny copper coin, and placed it neatly on the wooden counter.
"Here's 1 copper. Good business." Kaiser gave the speckled chicken a quick pat on the head. "Watch her for me while I'm in class. I'll pick her up on my way back."
"Just go..." the merchant whimpered, slumping over his cart. "Please, just go to school..."
Kaiser nodded politely, turned on his heel, and continued strolling down the avenue toward the academy gates, completely at peace with the universe.
I stood by the lamppost, watching his retreating figure.
Even with my years of psychological detachment, I felt a rare, faint twitch beneath my left eyelid.
He negotiated a live laying hen down from 8 coppers to 1 copper by claiming the bird was sad and had a crooked beak... and then turned the poultry stall into free temporary storage.
Class B does not stand a chance.
Victor Sterling and Sylvia Somerset believe they are preparing for a battle of magic and tactics. In reality, they are about to step into an arena with a sociopathic economic predator who creates his own rules of reality.
I adjusted my collar and resumed walking toward the academy gates.
I wonder what Rose Valentine has decided for Class A's formation today.
Whatever it is, as long as it directs our weapons far away from 000981, I will consider the day a success.
---
March 9th, 2012 — 12:45 PM
Capital Commercial Plaza — Café L'Aurore
Perspective: Sylvia Somerset
The afternoon academy bell had barely finished echoing through the courtyard before I made my exit.
Listening to Victor Sterling deliver another sanctimonious homeroom sermon on 'unity, mutual elevation, and shared sacrifice' was a waste of divine patience. He speaks as if preaching to sheep will turn them into wolves. In reality, it only makes them comfortable in their slaughter.
A goddess does not debate with sheep. She arranges the pasture.
I walked along the sunlit promenade with Belial Selar keeping pace half a step behind my right shoulder, her slender demon tail swaying in lazy, predatory arcs.
"Did you finish observing Class C, Belial?" I asked, smoothing the lapels of my immaculate uniform.
"I did," Belial replied, her sulfur-yellow eyes narrowing. "Elfina Lunaris only returned to class this morning. She was absent for the past two full days. Kaiser Everhart was missing with her."
I tilted my head, curious. "Both of them? At the same time?"
"Yes," Belial grunted. "The rumor circulating through Class C is that Elfina came down with sudden sickness, and Kaiser stayed behind in the dorms to nurse her. But their classmates don't buy it. Roman and Sophia were openly mocking him, saying a deadweight who can barely feed himself couldn't possibly take care of an invalid."
I let out a soft, melodic laugh, adjusting my silk ribbon.
"How charming. The insects judge the predator because he walks quietly in the grass." I turned into the sun-drenched terrace of Café L'Aurore, gesturing to an empty marble table shaded beneath a wide striped canopy. "Let them laugh. Arrogance in the weak is a gift to the ambitious. Take a seat."
We sat down on the wrought-iron chairs overlooking the bustling plaza fountain.
"Is Xeno actually coming?" Belial asked, crossing her muscular arms as she scanned the crowd. "That eccentric nerd usually refuses to leave his workshop for anyone."
"He is coming," I smiled calmly. "Because unlike Victor, I know how to speak to ambition."
Right on cue, a slim young man with messy dark hair and an open collar strolled onto the café terrace.
Xeno Feynman looked about 15, carrying a slim leather portfolio under one arm. His posture was relaxed, oozing sharp, arrogant confidence. Fitted over his left eye was a sleek, circular device—a thin titanium-rimmed blue glass lens held in place by a dark cybernetic arm that wrapped seamlessly behind his ear. A faint, pulsing blue circuit light flickered across the glass surface.
He pulled out a chair, turned it backward, and sat down with a cocky grin, resting his chin on his crossed arms.
"Afternoon, Lady Somerset," Xeno greeted smoothly, his voice carrying a dry, sarcastic edge. "I see you managed to escape Victor's latest speech. How many times did he say 'brotherhood' today? 12? 15?"
"18," I replied with a faint smile. "A new personal record in self-delusion."
Belial leaned forward, staring directly at the glowing blue monocle over his eye. "What is that ridiculous toy on your face, Feynman? Are you trying to look like a one-eyed pirate?"
Xeno rolled his visible right eye with mock exhaustion. "It's called high-density optical computing, demon. Not that someone who solves problems by punching through walls would understand."
"What does it actually do, Xeno?" I asked, gesturing gracefully toward the lens.
"It's an active spectral analyzer linked via wireless local-area data packets directly to my desktop mainframe at home," Xeno explained casually, tapping the titanium frame.
"The optical sensor emits polarized ultraviolet light that passes clean through standard organic fabrics—low-density cottons, loose wool, and common synthetic polyethylenes. It maps the thermal signatures, muscular tension, and pulse rate of anyone standing within 15 meters. Basically, it lets me see if someone is carrying a concealed weapon, if they're lying, or if their heart rate spikes when they look at me."
Belial's eyebrows furrowed, looking slightly bewildered by the rapid flood of terms, but I understood his competence immediately.
He had bypassed the academy's magical surveillance wards by relying purely on physical engineering and electromagnetic frequencies.
"Impressive," I murmured, leaning back with a silky, calculated smile. "Though I wonder... would your rival, Vyora, find that design somewhat rudimentary? Last I checked, she took 1st place in the dwarvian engineering society rankings, while you took... 2nd."
Xeno's relaxed posture instantly tightened. The smug smirk vanished from his lips, his blue lens flickering with a rapid burst of data pulses as his jaw clenched.
"Vyora is a 2nd-rate copycat who only won because the dwarvian elders have a pathetic bias for heavy runic metallurgy," Xeno spat coldly, his voice turning razor-sharp. "Her machines are loud, clunky, and lack basic creative elegance. In the upcoming exam, I'm going to destroy her little magitek toys so thoroughly that she'll be begging for a transfer to Class C."
"Which brings us to our alliance," I said softly, steering the conversation back. "Class B needs a decisive advantage in the Tri-Labyrinth Siege. Victor wants to rely on basic unity. I prefer absolute predictability. What can you build for our strike force?"
"I already built it," Xeno declared, a predatory smirk returning to his face as he slapped a set of blueprints onto the table.
He unrolled the parchment, revealing detailed mechanical schematics for a set of lightweight, amber-tinted eyewear.
"I call them the Intel Visors," Xeno stated with unhidden pride.
"What is their function?" Belial asked, leaning in.
"Total battlefield awareness," Xeno explained, pointing at the schematics. "Each visor is equipped with a micro-spectrometer that detects the ambient ionization of mana in the air. When an enemy charges a spell, the visor calculates their mana flow vectors, core density, and elemental wavelength in real-time. It projects an interface directly over your pupil—displaying their remaining energy, estimated health matrix, and the exact trajectory of their next attack before they even finish casting."
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Predicting incoming spells before they manifest?"
"Even better," Xeno leaned in, his dark eyes gleaming. "Every single visor worn by Class B will be linked into a shared neural feedback loop. Every second our frontline fights Class A or Class C, the data is aggregated and processed. If Class A switches formations, the visors update our entire team's tactics within 3 seconds. The longer the exam lasts, the more invincible we become. By minute 10, their movements will look like slow motion."
I looked at the schematics, a genuine, appreciative smile curving my lips.
"Brilliant, Xeno. Truly divine."
Belial whistled softly. "If you had these toys last month, why didn't you stop Elfina Lunaris when she pulled off that massive Lumina incident in the dungeon?"
The moment the word Lumina left Belial's mouth, Xeno's face turned into a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Don't even mention that garbage in front of me!" Xeno snapped, waving his hand aggressively. "The Lumina system was the biggest joke of pseudo-engineering I have ever witnessed in my entire life!"
I watched him, amused by his sudden, violent irritation. "Oh? Class A praised it as a groundbreaking communication device."
"Because Class A is full of scientifically illiterate aristocrats who get amazed by bright lights!" Xeno ranted, throwing his hands in the air.
"Do you have any idea how dogshit that design actually was?! It was made of salvaged scrap parts, uncalibrated quartz crystals, and cheap copper coils! The internal voltage was completely unstable! And the transmission method—it literally ran on crude, long-frequency radio wave pulses! Radio waves in a high-density aether dungeon?! That is so primitive it belongs in the stone age!"
He took a deep breath, his eye twitching beneath his blue lens.
"Whoever designed that contraption isn't an engineer—they're a desperate, uneducated lunatic who got lucky because the atmospheric humidity didn't short-circuit their battery! The efficiency loss was at least 40 percent! It was an insult to the beauty of fundamental physics!"
I rested my chin on my intertwined fingers, watching him with quiet amusement.
He is a purist.
He doesn't just want to win—he wants his science to be elegant, flawless, and mathematically superior. That is why Elfina's makeshift, high-yield improvisation infuriates him so deeply.
"Then you will have your chance to prove it," I smiled softly, my silver eyes gleaming with cold anticipation. "In the Tri-Labyrinth, you may crush their primitive toys yourself."
Xeno scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a confident smirk. "Consider it done. Class C's little lucky streak ends the moment the exam begins."
Belial was still squinting at Xeno's blue monocle, scratching the base of her curved horns.
"I'm still lost," Belial grunted. "So it scans heat and heartbeat. What else can it actually do?"
Xeno adjusted the titanium frame, tapping the side button.
"Think of it like a video game screen," Xeno explained simply, taking a sip of iced tea. "A small light inside projects lines and numbers directly into my eye. If a rogue hides behind a wooden fence or a thin wall, the sound vibrations and body heat outline them in bright blue. It can zoom in 50 times like a sniper scope, read words on a paper from across the plaza, and measure how fast someone swings a sword so I know when to dodge. No magic words, no mana drain—just pure physics and clean battery power."
"Basically, cheating," Belial summarized with a grin.
"It's not cheating, it's technological superiority," Xeno corrected smoothly.
I was about to offer a compliment, but my perfect, regal posture abruptly shattered.
My silver eyes widened, freezing on the cobblestone avenue right across from our café terrace.
What... in the name of the hell... am I looking at?
Walking down the opposite street was Kaiser Everhart.
Around the neck of a speckled brown hen was a thin red leather leash. The chicken was strutting proudly across the stone pavement, wearing two tiny yellow leather shoes on its claws and a pair of miniature black sunglasses resting crookedly across its beak.
Xeno turned his head to see what I was staring at, and his jaw practically dropped into his iced tea.
"What in the hell...?" Xeno muttered, his blue lens flickering wildly.
Belial choked on her drink, coughing violently as her tail whipped in circles. "Is... is that a bird wearing sunglasses?!"
Kaiser casually stopped beside the lamppost in front of Gideon's Precision Workshop & Engineering Supplies.
He crouched down, meeting the chicken at eye level, and whispered with total deadpan seriousness:
"Pak pak pika poka piki."
The chicken tilted its sunglass-wearing head, looked him dead in the eyes, and flapped its wings:
"PAKKKKKKKK!"
Kaiser gave a firm, satisfied thumbs-up.
The chicken gave a sharp, formal nod.
Kaiser tied the red leash securely to the lamppost, dusted his knees, and calmly pushed the door open to Gideon's Engineering shop.
Xeno sat frozen for five full seconds, staring across the street like he had just witnessed an alien landing.
"Is that... the famous Elfina Lunaris lackey?" Xeno asked, dumbfounded. "Are you kidding me? He's walking a chicken on a leash through the capital like a dog?!"
"A prestigious academy student..." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in deep secondhand embarrassment. "Walking hens down the central boulevard. What has become of our generation?"
"And why does it have shoes?!" Belial yelled in hushed disbelief. "Tiny yellow shoes! Where do you even buy chicken shoes?!"
"Wait," Xeno murmured, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the storefront Kaiser had entered. "Why did he go into Gideon's? That's an advanced mechanical workshop. They don't sell bird feed. They sell high-grade alloys, micro-relays, and dwarvian transmission parts."
I recovered my composure, smoothing my skirt. "He is likely shopping for Elfina. With the monthly exam approaching, she is probably building another gadget. We should stay alert."
Before Xeno could reply, another figure strolled down the opposite sidewalk.
Lucas Reindhardt.
The youngest genius of Class A slouched past the lamppost, his messy brown hair falling over lazy, half-lidded green eyes, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
As Lucas walked by, the speckled chicken puffed its chest and flapped its wings aggressively:
"PAKAKKKKK!"
Lucas stopped dead in his tracks.
He slowly turned his head, glaring down at the chicken with supreme, lethal arrogance.
Then, without Lucas even opening his mouth—out of absolute, thin air—a thunderous, vibrating LION'S ROAR echoed violently through the street!
ROOOOOOOAAAR!
The sound wave rattled the glass windows of the shop!
The chicken leaped three feet into the air, its tiny sunglasses flying crooked, flapping its wings in sheer, hysterical panic as it cowered against the lamppost!
Lucas leaned down, glaring into the trembling chicken's eyes with icy disdain.
"Know your place, hen."
Without another word, the Lion turned on his heel and slouched down the street as if nothing had happened.
I sat at our table, my eyebrows raised in utter bewilderment.
How did he summon a literal lion roar from thin air?!
"Go ask the Lion himself," Xeno muttered, rubbing his temples with an exhausted sigh.
"I would rather start a romantic relationship with Victor Sterling than speak three words to that insufferable animal," I declared coldly.
Belial cracked up into a loud, raucous fit of laughter, slamming her fist on the marble table. "Ahahaha! He just intimidated a chicken! That guy is completely unhinged!"
Before our laughter could die down, two more people came jogging down the sidewalk.
Axel and Elfina.
"I saw him run this way with a chicken!" Axel shouted, his oversized trench coat flapping in the wind. "I swear on the Dark Wolf's honor, Kaiser bought a live bird!"
"Thank you, Axel!" Elfie smiled, catching her breath beside the lamppost.
Then, Elfie stopped, blinking down at the trembling bird. "Wait... why is there a little hen tied to the pole?"
The chicken, seeing Elfie's gentle face and celestial aura, immediately waddled over on its yellow shoes, rubbing its feathered head affectionately against Elfie's shin.
Elfie's eyes lit up with starry wonder, a bright blush spreading across her cheeks. "Awww! She's so cute! She has tiny sunglasses!"
Across the street, I rested my forehead in my palm, feeling my sanity fraying at the edges.
What happened to the seriousness of winning? Are we at war, or are we running a circus?
"Look at her wings," Elfie gasped, crouching down. "She's pointing at the door!"
The chicken was aggressively flapping its left wing toward Gideon's shop, but Axel and Elfie completely misread the signal.
"She wants a name!" Axel declared boldly, striking a pose. "We shall call her Shadow-Beak the Annihilator! Or Crimson-Feather! No... Thunder-Claw Death-Bringer!"
"Those are horrible!" Elfie pouted, waving her hands. "She's soft and sweet! Her name should be Puff-Puff! Or Sunny-Cheeks! Or Little Chicky!"
"Sunny-Cheeks?!" Axel scoffed. "A bird of darkness cannot be named Sunny-Cheeks! What if we fight a demon and I shout 'Go, Sunny-Cheeks!'?! It ruins my entire dark aesthetic!"
"Demons love Sunny-Cheeks!" Elfie argued fiercely.
The glass door of Gideon's workshop swung open, and Kaiser stepped out.
He was carrying a thick, semi-transparent industrial canvas bag, slung casually over one shoulder.
"Kai!" Elfie beamed, running up to him. "Where did this cute hen come from?! Can we keep her?!"
"I bought her for breakfast cooking," Kaiser explained calmly, reaching down to untie the leash. "And her name is Rocky."
Elfie blinked. "Rocky?"
Axel's jaw dropped. "Rocky?! Bro, that sounds like a retired heavyweight boxer from the Demon continent! Why Rocky?!"
The chicken tilted its head, glaring up at Kaiser with genuine, profound skepticism.
"It was the first name that came to my mind," Kaiser replied without a shred of hesitation. "And Rocky is going to lay 5 fresh eggs every single morning."
The moment the words '5 eggs daily' left Kaiser's mouth, Rocky's eyes bugged out beneath her sunglasses. The chicken violently turned around and tried to sprint down the avenue on her yellow shoes!
FLAP FLAP FLAP!
Kaiser's hand casually shot out, grabbing the leash mid-air and reeling the panicking bird back like a kite.
"Let's go home," Kaiser said, turning down the street as Axel, Elfie, and the frantic chicken followed behind him.
Across the terrace, Belial and I sat in stunned, breathless silence, watching the chaotic trio vanish into the crowd.
"How does Elfina Lunaris even tolerate that?" Belial whispered, utterly dumbfounded. "He bought a pet chicken, named it Rocky, and demanded five eggs a day from a bird that tried to escape! Those Class C lunatics are completely hopeless."
"A collection of clowns," I scoffed, taking a sip of water to steady my nerves. "They treat the monthly exam like a playground outing."
Beside me, Xeno didn't laugh.
He was staring across the empty street, his blue optical monocle glowing with a blinding, rapid storm of blue calculation glyphs. His hands were gripping the table so hard his knuckles had turned white, a bead of cold sweat dripping down his temple.
I noticed his stillness. "Xeno? What is wrong with you?"
Xeno slowly turned his head to look at me, his arrogant, confident smirk completely erased.
"Lady Somerset..." Xeno whispered, his voice trembling faintly with genuine, suppressed shock. "Did you see what was inside his bag?"
"He went into a machine shop," I replied, frowning slightly. "A few spare bolts and gears for Elfina's toys, I presume?"
"No," Xeno breathed, his chest heaving as he stared at his optical data log. "Four ultra-high-frequency Barium-Titanate crystal oscillators. Two micro-wound Niobium-Tantalum superconductive coils. A set of precision-cut Germanium prism diodes. And a high-density lithium-matrix pulse capacitor."
I blinked, confused. "What do those components build?"
"You can't build a weapon with those," Xeno muttered, his eyes wide in sheer disbelief. "You can't even build a standard communication device. Those materials are used for only one specific engineering architecture in the entire world: a synchronized, orbital-grade phased-array transceiver."
He swallowed hard, looking at me with dead seriousness.
"Those parts are used to intercept, decode, and manipulate wide-area electromagnetic signals from outside the atmosphere. It's the kind of hardware you only need if you are routing real-time tactical coordinates through an active satellite."
Xeno let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh, grabbing his hair.
"An active satellite! In Asura?! That's impossible! How could a 12-year-old commoner from Class C even understand orbital wave dynamics, let alone possess an orbital relay?!"
I sat back in my chair, the sunlight warming the terrace, yet a sudden, icy chill ran down my spine.
I looked at the empty street where Kaiser Everhart had just walked with a chicken on a leash.
A clown walking poultry in sunglasses...
Or a monster holding orbital hardware while pretending to be a fool?
The upcoming Tri-Labyrinth Siege was no longer a simple exam.
It was a chessboard where the pieces were lying to the players.
---