Liam was satisfied. He had finally managed to "reason" with the Cross Gang.
They had arrived full of swagger and threats, and now they were leaving one by one, limping, nursing bruises, and too ashamed to meet his eyes. Their retreat was pathetic, almost comical—pitiful even.
From across the street, neighbors peeked out their windows, grinning at the gang's humiliation. These bullies had lorded over the block for too long. Now, thanks to Liam, they were crawling home, and the community would sleep peacefully again tonight.
Of course, another strange rumor about the quiet café owner would surely be added to the growing list. Liam didn't care. Let them gossip. The punks had destroyed themselves; he'd only been an innocent bystander. A respectable, law-abiding businessman.
With order restored and the bracelet's energy humming along a steady upward curve, he returned to his true focus: the battle suit.
For someone trained in the Land of Light, building a basic exoskeleton was child's play—assembling blocks. The real challenge, as always, was energy. Just like Stark's Iron Man suits, every cutting-edge system depended on the heart in its chest—the reactor.
For Liam's "Mobile Ultraman," that heart wasn't ordinary tech. It was designed to channel the Light itself, synthesizing and releasing Spacium Energy as its ultimate weapon. A weakened, human-scale echo of an Ultra Warrior. Flexible enough to be modified for strength, speed, or stealth depending on the mission.
To support the system, Liam casually coded a simple AI assistant. It was the kind of work an intern at the Land of Light's Science Bureau could do in their sleep. He called it Pal, borrowing the name from Gaia's human host's AI back in the day. Not for sentiment—just for luck.
After all, the first two Heisei Ultras were infamous "plane killers." Dagu and Asuka destroyed their rides with such regularity the TPC finance department probably wept blood. By contrast, Gaia's AI co-pilot Pal had helped keep his fighter in one piece. A good omen.
Finally, everything was ready for testing.
Pal's mechanical arms fitted the armor onto him piece by piece. Gears clicked, joints locked, and the battle suit enclosed Liam's body in seconds.
The azure core in the chest lit up, Color Timer-like, while the helmet sealed shut and the eyes glowed with golden light.
"Pal, run a full system check."
"Running diagnostics, sir."
Progress bars swept across his HUD. Panels opened, folded, locked back into place.
"Check complete. All systems green."
"Good. Let's test the skies."
"Anti-radar engaged. Stealth mode active."
With a roar of pale blue exhaust, Liam shot skyward. The battle suit cut across Gotham's night like a meteor, rolling into effortless acrobatics before stabilizing into smooth flight.
The N-Metal woven into its frame gave it natural levitation, but the purity was low—too little to rely on. So the design combined that gift with conventional thrusters: heavy propulsion in the boots, auxiliary nozzles along the waist and back for bursts and steering, palm ports doubling as weapons or maneuvering jets.
Even without fuel, the suit could float and fly thanks to N-Metal. But when it was time to end a fight, Liam had prepared the trump card: crossing his wrists, triggering the Spacium Energy Cannon, and unleashing its full destructive force.
Flying came naturally. Three millennia of aerial combat left him more comfortable in the sky than on the ground. But after only a few minutes of freedom, Pal's calm voice interrupted.
"Sir, the bracelet is reacting."
"Hm?"
Data streamed across his HUD. Coordinates, readings, spikes. The same signature as before: spatial fluctuations.
"Another anomaly?"
Last time it had been the Eternal Rock—a gateway to a hidden sanctuary. And now?
He sighed. This world really is helpless. Anyone with power carves holes into it. No defense, no refusal—just more humiliation to endure.
Then again, he was one of those intruders himself. That thought almost made him chuckle.
"Pal, mark the coordinates. Adjust course."
"Yes, sir."
The armor banked in a brilliant arc, trailing light as it redirected toward the signal.
It didn't take long. On Gotham's outskirts, Liam spotted the impact zone: a long gouge carved into the earth, like a scar across the landscape. It reminded him of Dagu's endless crash landings with the GUTS Wing, smoke and fire marking his path.
And at the end of the furrow sat the object itself.
A ship.
Its body gleamed white, streamlined, the nose sharp and diamond-like, the hull tapering into a slender ellipse. Delicate upturned wings gave it a sense of grace, while the tail bristled with thrusters and a conical main engine. The metal shimmered faintly silver, too refined, too alien to be Earth-made.
The cockpit was already open, its single seat empty.
But Liam's eyes went straight to the nose of the craft. There, stamped in bold and unmistakable relief, was the emblem.
A large S.
....
Patreaon
/Williamstewart
For my other Fanfic.