Meanwhile, in the Dragon Nation, Robin gently ran her fingers through her soft, silky pale blue hair, savoring the feel of the strands sliding between her fingertips. She then glanced in the mirror and braided it into her signature hairstyle from the game.
Having lived as a girl for over four months, styling her hair had become second nature. However, makeup remained a daunting challenge. Robin sat rigidly upright, legs pressed together, hands resting in her lap, patiently awaiting the makeup artist's finishing touches on her cheeks.
Tonight—right now—marked the opening of "Robin's Second Concert," and she was in the midst of her final preparations.
For an ordinary person, makeup might be likened to temporarily transforming an ugly duckling into a swan. But for Robin, it was more like gently wiping the dust from a brilliant gemstone, allowing her innate radiance to shine through more easily.
"As expected of Miss Robin," the stylist sighed, pausing briefly before reaching for her professional makeup tools. She carefully dabbed and blended across Robin's cheeks, enhancing her natural features. "I'm almost unsure where to begin."
After a moment, Robin gazed at her reflection in the mirror, her beauty now even more striking. She felt no particular emotion; having already performed publicly once, her second concert wouldn't be as nerve-wracking as the first.
She lifted her small leg, admiring her delicate toes adorned with sky-blue nail polish. With both hands, she picked up a pair of high heels shimmering with starry hues and carefully slid her feet into them, one after the other.
Standing up, she took a few steps to adjust to the shoes. Satisfied, she nodded to the nearby staff and announced, "I'm ready."
Robin was wearing a magnificent backless gown, a custom-made creation by a renowned fashion designer rather than the outfit she originally wore as Robin. While her previous attire had been lovely, wearing the same ensemble for every concert would grow monotonous, wouldn't it?
She took a deep breath and strode toward the stage.
Click-clack, click-clack...
The crisp sound of her heels echoed with each step until she emerged from backstage into the dazzling arena. The sight of tens of thousands of spectators washed over her, followed by a tidal wave of cheers.
-
The scene shifts back to Itajō in the Sakura Nation.
"We need to evacuate immediately, Doctor!" The soldier had barely finished speaking when, as if to emphasize his words, a deafening explosion erupted outside less than three seconds later.
Boom—!!!
At the entrance of the research base, a heavy tank aimed its cannon at an open field and fired a shell.
The explosion was followed by a dense barrage of gunfire. Soldiers, using the tank as cover, poured bullets into the pitch-black wilderness beyond, as if some terrifying enemy truly lurked in the darkness.
"Hoh—"
In the distance, the Dark car driver was jolted awake by the sudden explosion. He gasped, then warily scanned his surroundings, terrified that a blood-soaked female ghost might suddenly materialize.
Yet as he watched the flames rising in the distance and listened to the relentless gunfire, much of his fear inexplicably diminished. He swiftly started the car and floored the accelerator.
Inside the research base, the Doctor listened to the intense sounds of battle outside and immediately panicked. "The Outsider? Are you certain it's her? How could she be here so quickly?!"
"Damn it! We haven't even moved half the experimental equipment yet!"
"Doctor!" his assistant pleaded. "Forget about the equipment! We can always get more. Your safety comes first!"
"No, the data!" The Doctor strode to a computer and began frantically typing. "The data is paramount! No matter what, we must ensure it's completely extracted!"
"Hurry! Do whatever it takes to hold them off—at least until this download is complete. I refuse to leave without it!"
Though everything in the research base was the product of the Doctor's genius—he was undoubtedly a prodigy and a leading expert on Dimensional Rifts—the data stored within held more value to him than his own life.
This might seem counterintuitive. After all, the Doctor was the one who conducted the research; if the materials were lost, he could simply start over.
But the truth was, even with unlimited time, there was a high probability that the Doctor wouldn't be able to replicate his current progress from scratch.
The research on Dimensional Rifts spanned decades. The human brain has its limits, unable to retain everything. Even the Doctor himself had long forgotten the intermediate steps.
The two soldiers hesitated briefly. Then, one of them hardened his expression, grabbed his radio, and barked, "We're on a critical mission! No matter what, we must hold the enemy back at all costs! Delay them as long as possible! Under no circumstances can they reach the laboratory!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Roger that!"
Ratatatat—!
"She's here! She's here! Open fire!"
"Save me!"
The moment the radio crackled to life, it erupted with deafening chaos: dense gunfire, hysterical screams, and even the agonized death throes of the fallen.
"No—no, don't! Aaaahhhh!"
The bloodcurdling screams sent chills down the Doctor's spine. As time ticked by, beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and a suffocating sense of dread tightened his chest. His eyes were glued to the progress bar inching across the monitor, and he muttered anxiously, "Faster, faster, faster..."
The scene undeniably resembled something straight out of a movie.
Unbeknownst to the Doctor, however, the reality on the other end of the radio was far more mundane. Soldiers were casually firing into the empty field, occasionally letting out timed screams to maintain the illusion of combat.
Enemies? There were none. As far as the eye could see, everyone was a teammate.
Yet, as time wore on, to lend the charade a semblance of authenticity, the soldiers began slowly advancing toward the laboratory.