It took Obsidian roughly a day to realize that the three lunatics camped outside Kazdel genuinely intended to attack The City.
On that day, Heal was discussing war preparations as usual with Theresa and Theresis. However, just twenty minutes into their conversation, Theresa's face clouded over with concern, and she suddenly spoke up:
"Oh right, Heal… Earlier today, new intel arrived. We've figured out what the coalition is planning."
"New movements? And here I thought they'd finally quieted down a bit," Heal remarked, arching an eyebrow curiously. Theresa simply nodded, worry evident in her eyes. Theresis continued where she left off:
"According to the latest intelligence, they've identified Kazdel's supply source. They're planning to cut it off."
"This is their last chance. None of their tactics against Kazdel have been effective. Any further escalation would be beyond their limits."
"So, what you're saying is… they're actually planning to attack The City to break the stalemate?"
Heal raised a hand abruptly, interrupting Theresis's words with an incredulous expression. Theresis nodded silently.
"…If this is some kind of joke, I'll admit it's the funniest thing I've heard all year," Heal said after a long pause, looking genuinely speechless. She kicked lightly against the table, using the momentum to slide her chair back, then clasped her hands behind her head with an amused smile.
"I assure you, it's no joke. Heal, will The City need Kazdel's support?"
"No need," Heal answered calmly, eyes closed. "In fact, I don't even plan to return."
"But that—"
"It seems," Heal ignored Theresis, continuing calmly, her voice drawn out, "that The City has worn this gentle, benevolent merchant's mask for far too long… long enough that everyone seems to have forgotten what lies beneath."
"What do you mean by that?" Theresa asked softly.
"Nothing important. Leave it be. If they're really foolish enough to attack, let the Head deal with it."
Heal yawned, waving dismissively. Her eyes opened slightly, glinting dangerously.
Theresa regarded Heal silently. At that moment, she recalled her own meeting with the Head—that young man with short black hair…
She ultimately said nothing, just motioned quietly toward Theresis, shifting the topic elsewhere.
---
Meanwhile, in The City, within a certain humble cabin, Obsidian sat upright in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
After grasping the situation through Heal's perspective, Obsidian still found the idea absurd.
How do they even dare?
Do they really think The City can't wield a blade?
Putting aside the fact they'd almost certainly lose—even if, by some miracle, they did manage to push The City to desperation, Obsidian could always unleash [Nothing There]. If things grew truly dire, whether he might forcibly summon an Abnormality from [The Well] remained an open question.
"It seems The City has worn this sugary disguise before Terra for far too long…" Obsidian murmured, staring deeply into the dark abyss of [The Well].
"So long that people have forgotten what kind of place The City really is."
"Maybe it's time to peel away a bit of this sugar coating and reveal some of the flesh and blood beneath. That should dissuade future annoyances."
Wealth attracts envy, after all. At times like these, absolute strength became necessary to protect one's prosperity.
Obsidian had always maintained a simple philosophy: politics might be complicated, but fists were straightforward.
His boundless intellect informed him that now was precisely the moment to apply overwhelming force against the three-nation coalition's reckless provocation.
Moreover, this unexpected invasion presented a useful opportunity. It was, in fact, a rather timely gift from the coalition army.
"Since Lobotomy Corporation hasn't officially earned the title of a Wing yet… Maybe now is the perfect chance to let it rightfully ascend and become one."
He spoke softly to himself, gaze returning to [The Well]. Obsidian pondered carefully.
Though The City's internal growth had been limited lately, they'd managed to gather at least some amount of [Lunacy].
At least enough for a ten-pull.
"Might as well give it a shot."
Decisively, Obsidian tossed the accumulated Lunacy into [The Well]. In an instant, golden light burst forth from its depths.
His pupils shrank in surprise—a rare drop!
Excitedly, Obsidian quickly discarded the [Threads] and other miscellaneous items, reaching directly into the dazzling golden glow to retrieve the radiant prize within:
[Lost Singularity Technology (000)]
[Randomly acquires a Singularity from a shattered Wing. Patent protection has expired.]
Simple, brutal, but unquestionably potent.
The only question was… what [Singularity] would it yield? The possible outcomes varied drastically in usefulness.
With bated breath, Obsidian dropped the luminous orb back into [The Well], awaiting the next golden flash. Shortly afterward, a new presence emerged, floating gently upward:
[Lost Singularity:Textile Technology]
[Clothes woven from human bodies tend to possess extraordinary performance and effects.]
Holding this strange new [Singularity] in his hands, Obsidian momentarily fell silent, mind racing through implications. Eventually, he reached a conclusion:
Fundamentally, this thing still aimed at expanding The City's consumer market.
He distinctly remembered a similar technology from the original story, wielded by an organization known as "The Eighth Chef." Judging by their use of it, the [Singularity] had likely become widely available by then, no longer exclusive to a single Wing.
Even so, this didn't diminish its usefulness.
The renowned [Nuovo Fabric] from the original was created through exactly this technique. Human flesh and blood were extracted, transformed into threads, and woven into fabric, resulting in garments that greatly enhanced the wearer's combat prowess—even at the level of Colors.
But right now, for Obsidian, that wasn't the most critical application of this technology.
"It seems…"
"Those coalition troops have finally found a new purpose."