[ Hey there! Yours truly, Nyxara, graces your presence! ]
[ Hm? You're wondering who I'm talking to, right~? ]
[ Of course, it's you! Don't tell me you thought I hadn't noticed those watchful eyes glued to us since the very beginning of this tale? ]
Then, with a grand sweep of her hand, she declares:
[ Beware! For I am both omnipotent and omnipresent. Witness the radiant descent of Nyxara Starweaver! ]
[ What's that? You're wondering why I'm here? ]
[ Hehehe~ isn't your curiosity burning to know what exactly I was imagining, and what my oh-so-shy little panda host didn't want to reveal to you? ]
[ Yes, yes! This is the grand unveiling of that hidden conversation between me and my host—the very one kept off-screen! ]
[ After all, I can't simply let my devoted stalkers wallow in suspense forever, can I? ]
She tilts her head with mischievous glee.
[ So, allow me to present this under the ever-so-perfect title: "What Was the Cute System Imagining About Me??" ]
[ …Catchy, isn't it? I know, I know—it does sound like that red-masked jester from a certain movie pestering, "Why was the hammer guy crying?" But come on, bear with me~ ]
[ Ahem~ Let's rewind the scene, shall we? Watch closely, dear stalkers, as I unveil the embarrassing thoughts of my poor panda host! ]
The memory flickers back into view—
"So what do you want me to do now? You want me to fight them in this panda suit… like some children's play? Except—newsflash—I am a child!" I muttered in annoyance.
Nyxara: Buffering… [ …loading… loading… ah, there we go~ ]
I suddenly tilted his head toward me and said,
"What are you imagining?"
Nyxara: [ Nothing… just thinking. Hmmm~~~ how should I explain it? Hmmm… ah, it's better if you watch it yourself. ]
Saying that, the system projected a scene before my eyes.
It was the dead of night.
Eight assassins slithered through the shadows, their movements silent yet sharp, slipping under plain sight like vipers. Their black masks concealed half their faces, but when the storm's lightning cracked across the heavens, their eyes glimmered with a dangerous light.
Step by step, they reached the door.
The faint creak of hinges echoed as they slipped inside.
From the darkness came a sound—creak… creak… creak…—the lull of a cradle swaying back and forth like a pendulum.
The assassins stiffened.
The air crackled with tension.
Another flash of lightning lit their faces, shadows stretched long across the wooden floor.
They exchanged brief signals and crept forward, step by step, toward the cradle.
But when they peered inside… they froze.
Empty.
No baby.
Panic flickered in their eyes. Fingers twitched on hidden blades. One gave a sharp hand signal—Search.
Suddenly, a cold gust blew in.
The window slammed open, its shutters rattling wildly.
The assassins turned instantly, weapons half-drawn—
And then they saw it.
A silhouette, waiting in the dark by the window.
The storm outside rumbled, and a tree was split by lightning, illuminating the figure in an ominous glow.
There he stood.
A baby.
In a panda suit.
On his head, a bamboo hat tilted low, hiding his eyes, two little panda ears peeking out from beneath.
A tiny leaf dangled from his mouth, trembling in the storm winds.
At his waist hung a bamboo stick like a sheathed blade, his stubby arms poised as if ready to duel.
And draped across his back—fluttering dramatically in the storm—a red cape, stamped with the proud emblem of a panda paw.
The assassins blinked in stunned silence.
Nyxara: [ And thus appeared… the Panda Samurai! A fearsome warrior of cradle justice, born from my host's imagination! ]
...….