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The group stood at the summit of the ridge, exchanging weary glances as the last of Kenta's "reliable" gadgets lay in pieces on the ground.
"Kenta, what do we do now?" March 7th asked, her voice tinged with the subconscious expectation that he'd pull a miracle out of his cloak. Without anyone realizing it, the cynical Outlander had become the group's tactical North Star.
Kenta took a deep breath, his expression hardening into one of profound reluctance. "Actually... I still have one last resort. But I really, really didn't want to play this card."
"Svarog," Kenta muttered, steeled for the consequences, "if you show no benevolence, then don't blame me for showing no righteousness."
Ten minutes later, the group strode conspicuously into the heart of the Vagrants' Gathering Place. Their lack of stealth was an invitation.
"Beep beep! High-risk intruder detected: Kenta! Lord Svarog has been notified! All primary and secondary access points are now sealed!"
Seele turned to Kenta, her scythe already sparking with quantum energy. "Kenta? Why are we walking through the front door like we're expected for tea? What happened to the plan?"
Kenta gave them a grim, reassuring nod. He ignored the swarm of monitoring drones and marched straight up to the reinforced iron gate of the main residence.
"Little Perkins," Kenta said, leaning toward the gate guard. "Open up."
He presented the mechanical badge Clara had given him. Perkins scanned it with a clinical, red-eyed glare. "Beep! Master-level override: Revoked. Identity Authentication: Failed. Authorization restricted by Lord Svarog."
"Just as I thought. You petty, over-engineered toaster!"
Kenta glanced toward the balcony to ensure Clara wasn't watching. Then, he bent down and spoke in a low, conspiratorial hiss directly into Perkins' audio receiver, knowing Svarog's central processor was linked to the feed.
"Svarog, I know you're listening. Listen well. Clara is at my house right now. If you don't pop this lock immediately, I'm heading back to spend some 'quality time' with her. It's a long walk back, so she'll definitely have to stay the night. My house is quite spacious, you know... plenty of room for her to get comfortable..."
CRASH!
The heavy mechanical lock burst open with such force that the iron gates bounced off their hinges.
"Mission accomplished," Kenta said, straightening his cloak and turning back to the group. "Alright, everyone! The path is clear. Why are you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?"
The group met him with a wall of stares—a cocktail of doubt, accusation, and genuine pity.
"Um, Kenta..." March 7th began, choosing her words with uncharacteristic caution. "You didn't actually... kidnap a child, did you?"
Kenta's face went pale. "Absolutely not! It was a tactical bluff! A desperate measure to force a logic-error in Svarog's protective subroutines! Please do not misunderstand the pure, fraternal bond between Clara and me!"
The group let out a collective sigh of relief.
"So that was the solution?" Stelle whispered, her golden eyes gleaming with admiration for the sheer audacity of the lie.
They didn't have to walk far. Svarog was standing in the center of the courtyard, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed the party. His singular mechanical eye pulsed with a violent, strobing red light. He raised his palm cannon, the servos whining as they charged.
"Hold it, Svarog!" Kenta shouted, stepping in front. "Negotiation first! Clara isn't at my house—she's probably on her way here. We're here for the big picture."
The red light dimmed slightly. Svarog lowered his arm, though the hum of his core remained at a high frequency.
Stelle stepped forward to lead the dialogue. "We are here for the Stellaron. We need the data you're protecting to save Belobog."
"My previous assessment remains absolute," Svarog's voice boomed. "You lack the authorization. Historical data confirms that human interaction with the Stellaron is driven by avarice. There is no evidence to suggest your 'Trailblaze' is a deviation from this pattern."
"But the world is dying!" Stelle countered.
As the circular logic tightened and the air grew thick with the smell of ozone, Clara appeared from the side entrance. "Oh! Big Brother Kenta? Mr. Svarog? Why are you all shouting?"
The tension shattered. To avoid her getting caught in the crossfire, Kenta lunged toward her. "Clara, stay back! It's dangerous—"
Svarog didn't wait. The moment Kenta moved toward the girl, the robot's "Protective Protocol" hit 100%. A laser blast tore through the air, narrowly missing Kenta's heels.
"STAY AWAY FROM CLARA!"
"Damn it, Svarog! You really are a jealous overprotective mess!"
Kenta didn't argue. He flickered to Clara's side, scooped her up in a flawless princess carry, and vanished from the blast zone with lightning speed.
Seeing the "Intruder" successfully "abduct" the girl, Svarog's processors redlined. He prepared to give chase, but Seele's scythe slammed into his shoulder plating, forcing him back.
"Should've started with the hacking!" Seele yelled, her figure quantumizing into a purple blur. "Let's take this hunk of junk apart!"
A safe distance away, Kenta set Clara down. Her eyes were wide with worry. "Big Brother Kenta, please... Mr. Svarog is just trying to help..."
Kenta patted her head, his eyes softening. "It's okay, Clara. We just have a small... disagreement... to settle. It's like a very loud debate."
He gave her cheek a final, reassuring pinch and then turned back toward the chaos. The five-person siege was underway, but Svarog was an ancient engine of war; he was holding his own against the combined might of the Express and Wildfire.
Until Kenta arrived.
"Svarog! I've been waiting for a legitimate excuse to do this!"
Kenta gripped his black sheath with both hands, the broken blade still tucked safely inside. He leaped into the air, his cloak billowing like a shadow, and brought the reinforced scabbard down in a devastating overhead strike.
The King Descends!
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