I have to admit that I had a plan, but I did not expect it to go so smoothly.
Standing in the middle of a hundred-strong crowd outside Blaze's Pit, the Blazewood sun beating down, I watch a line of ten bikers still itching to take me on.
Greed's a hell of a drug
I underestimated how far it'd pull them in.
The idea was simple: gambling.
This morning, I decided to stir up some chaos, using my Zelrech connections to pitch myself to Blazewood's gangs as fresh meat.
The game? Rock, paper, scissors. Beat me, and you walk away with two million Dennies, cash guaranteed.
Thanks to some smooth-talking, I convinced Dr. Lin to front the budget, flashing enough proof to hook the gangs.
But they fell for the oldest trick in the book—lambs to an abattoir.
The house never loses.
With at least a hundred losers behind me, I've raked in a million Dennies, easy.
The kicker? Every loser gets a "special" drink from Burnice, her giggles ringing out as she pours her nitro-charged cocktails.
I flash scissors, beating the guy in front of me, a wiry biker named Viper, who threw paper.
His face twists with rage, his snake-tattooed neck bulging as he slams his fist on the table.
"You cheating' bastard!" Viper roars, spit flying.
"There's no way you're this lucky, city boy! What's your game, huh?"
I lean back, unfazed, my tie loose.
"No game, just skill," I say, my voice even.
"Better luck next time."
Viper's crew jeers behind him, one shouting,
"C'mon, Viper, you let this suit humiliate you?" Viper's eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a growl.
"This isn't over, prick. I'll gut you for this."
"Sorry, pal," I say, shrugging.
Not my fault you telegraphed paper.
It's not cheating—just reading people.
I catch the twitches, the tells, before they throw their sign.
Without that confidence, I wouldn't have touched this scheme.
Kaori's drunken cheers cut through the noise, her voice slurring from a nearby table.
Dammit, Kaori, I told her to steer clear of Burnice's drinks, but she's hopeless.
Her twin tails wag wildly, her cat ears flopping as she sways, lost in a boozy haze.
"Go, Michael!" she hollers, nearly tipping over.
She's going to regret that.
Time to wrap this up. I stand, dusting my white shirt.
"Thanks for playing, folks," I call out. "Good luck when I open again."
The crowd thins, revealing the carnage—losers vomiting, dancing, or belting out off-key songs.
Burnice's cocktails hit like a Hollow breach. She's having a blast, I think, spotting her grin.
I weave through the chaos to Burnice, slipping her two hundred thousand Dennies—my cut for the pub's repairs, leaving me a cool million.
"You're kind of crazy," she says, her gold hair locks bouncing, her grin wide.
"Never seen someone win this much cash."
"It's nothing much,"
I reply, taking the compliment.
Kaori stumbles over, her inebriated strides wobbly, and collapses against my stomach, mumbling cheers.
I sigh, hoisting her onto my back, her arms dangling.
Lightweight, I think, adjusting her weight.
As I head toward the motel, the Sons of Calydon roll by, their bikes growling.
Caesar, her green hair catching the neon, gives me a sharp look before veering toward Burnice.
Keep moving, I think, my focus on the motel's flickering sign ahead. Blazewood's dust settles behind me, but this week's just getting started.
***
Noon light filtered through the motel's cracked blinds, casting stripes across the Blazewood room where Kaori sat on the bed, nursing a hot cup of water.
Her hangover throbbed, her cat ears drooping, her twin tails limp. She'd changed into a loose shirt, her pajamas discarded after a rough night.
Michael, lounging in a chair, scrolled through his phone, his white shirt untucked, tie loose.
"I warned you about Burnice's drinks," he said, his tone calm but pointed.
Kaori winced, clutching her cup.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"I didn't know they'd hit that hard. I'll control myself next time."
She sipped her water, catching her reflection in the cup's surface.
"What do we do now, with all that money?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.
Michael paused, reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out a box of cigars, selected one, and lit it with a flick of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his trimmed beard. Kaori's ears twitched.
"Why are you smoking all of a sudden?" she asked, frowning.
"It is medicine grass to soothe my nerves, not the usual ones."
Michael stood, leaving his phone on the bed beside her, and walked to the window. "Read," he said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
Kaori set her cup down, picked up the phone, and scanned the screen. Her green eyes widened, startled.
Michael, silhouetted against the window, spoke evenly.
"That's a priority list from the White Star Institute's board. We're at the bottom, Kaori. They're firing us within the month."
Kaori stared at the list, her tail still. She didn't question its authenticity—Michael's hacking skills, proven by his Zelrech feats, were beyond doubt.
He wouldn't lie, she thought.
"Is the money for retirement, then?" she asked, her voice steady despite the shock.
"I knew this might happen, but… not this soon."
Michael settled onto the window frame, puffing his cigar, his gaze fixed on the approaching dawn.
With an eloquent tone, he declared,
"The world is a brutal crucible, Kaori."
"It's governed by capitalist principles where profit eclipses freedom, where goodness is a footnote to power, and where the strong crush all beneath them."
He paused, letting the words hang.
"The board was always going to pick us off. It's was never about merit or the people we are—it's about who brings in money."
"Their meritocracy is a sham, a facade for ratings to maintain their shallow image as an all-welcoming institution."
Kaori stayed silent, her cup trembling in her hands, absorbing his words.
Michael's eyes softened, meeting hers.
"I was an idealist once," he admitted.
"Work hard, keep your head down, kiss up, pull overtime, and you'd earn a normal life. But I realized it's a lie. Even with my skills, I can't be a Proxy—my Ether aptitude's too low. The world threatened to break me. What could I do?"
He leaned forward, smoke curling.
"I had a goal, but I nearly gave up—until I met you."
Kaori's ears twitched, her breath catching.
"You're an incredible genius, Kaori, whether you see it or not."
"A diamond caged by a glass wall, displayed for their amusement, destined to be shattered when you could shine brightest if set free."
"You've rekindled what I once abandoned, turned embers into a blaze."
Kaori's hands shook, tears welling as she set the cup down.
"What's your goal now?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"And why ask me?"
Michael smiled, a rare warmth in his stoic expression.
"Because I know with you, it is possible. No, it will be true."
"As for my goal? I want to *never suffer again, to carve out a quiet life," he said.
"There's only one way: use my talents with yours and become pioneers."
"However, the high risks it has can lead us to a similar ending that the other one held, such as Carole Arna."
Kaori's eyes locked on his. "Do not tell me..."
"Will your project progress to the point where it has the potential to be that threatning? If so, what might it be?"
She asked her last question.
Michael pointed his cigar toward the dawn, its light breaking over Blazewood's horizon.
"It's the sun," he said, his voice steady, a spark of ambition burning in his gaze.
———
Michael sensed Kaori's confusion, her cat ears twitching as she clutched her cup.
He crossed the motel room to the wardrobe, its chipped wood creaking, and opened his suitcase.
Hidden beneath his clothes was a large, folded sheet of paper, which he pulled out alongside a pen.
Time to lay it out, spreading the paper on the bed.
Kaori stood, her hangover forgotten, watching as Michael scribbled furiously.
"I stumbled on top-secret research at the White Star Institute," he said, his voice low.
"One project, ranked second-most dangerous, caught my eye. It had codenames: Day of Judgment, Sunfall, and Light of Dawn. Serious stuff. I couldn't dig deeper without getting caught, but I glimpsed the theory."
He sketched diagrams, numbers flowing from his pen.
"The core is absorbing 73.4 percent of solar UVB radiation, between 280 and 315 nanometers, and combining it with ether at a 1-to-3 ratio."
"Ether doesn't follow the second law of thermodynamics—entropy's irrelevant. By stabilizing the reaction with a quantum catalyst, you get a self-sustaining energy output, producing 1.2 gigawatts per cycle with 92 percent efficiency."
"This creates a pseudo-perpetual motion machine, and if we can convert that into a condensed form..."
Kaori realized it. "We can make an eternal stone battery."
Michael sat back, exhaling.
Kaori leaned over the paper, her green eyes darting across the numbers.
At first, it seemed impossible—perpetual motion was a fantasy.
But as her mathematical genius kicked in, the figures clicked: 73.4 percent UVB, 1:3 ether ratio, and 1.2 gigawatts output.
With a UVB concentrator, ether purifier, and quantum stabilizer, it's feasible, she thought, her tail flicking.
She couldn't believe it.
Right in front of them was a theory that had the potential to reshape not only New Eridu, but the entire planet's future.