Nonsense
When Yuna stepped into the private briefing room of Icarus Technology's Far East Branch, Laser, Titan, and Doctor were already gathered around the central holotable.
Above it, the mock combat data from Yuna's training battle at Chronos Base played out in a tangle of complex graphs and cascading numbers. The footage kept looping back to the same two moments: that battered Bugbear moving in ways that defied belief, and the instant its fist slammed into Silvera's shoulder.
All three ace mercenaries were completely absorbed in the replay.
"You're here, Yuna."
Laser spoke without taking his eyes off the hologram. Surprise still colored his voice.
"That Driller bastard really is the real deal. Who would've thought a scrap heap like that could put a dent in Silvera. If he hadn't surrendered at the end, who knows how it would've gone…"
Doctor adjusted his glasses and picked up the thread. His gaze stayed locked on the Bugbear's energy-pattern graph.
"This energy signature is genuinely bizarre. He's momentarily pushing the reactor output past its limits while simultaneously syncing it with the airframe control systems. That's impossible with standard tech."
He pressed on, growing more animated.
"It doesn't match any known illegal modification patterns either. Could it be resonance with bio-energy? Maybe the pilot's latent psychic ability is interfacing with the machine."
"Psychic this, psychic that. Give it a rest, Doctor."
Titan dismissed the theory in his deep, booming voice. He seemed far more interested in the machine's physical limits.
"Whatever trick that guy pulled, that Bugbear was already at the edge. If he'd kept fighting in that condition, it would've come apart midair. Surrendering when he did was the smart move. Kid's got a brain on him."
Yuna listened to their exchange in silence, eyes fixed on the holographic data. Their analyses each made sense from their own angles.
"So, Yuna."
Laser turned to face her.
"Were you satisfied with the test results? What are you planning to do with him?"
Yuna was quiet for a moment before she spoke. Her voice was as calm as ever, but it carried an unmistakable certainty.
"I've confirmed his ability. Data doesn't lie. It wasn't simple luck or a fluke."
She laid out the decision she had already made.
"I've offered him an invitation to Icarus facilities."
"What?"
"An invitation? To some greenhorn from a third-rate merc outfit?"
"Yuna, are you out of your mind?"
Laser, Doctor, and Titan all erupted at once with shock and protest. Exactly the reaction she had expected.
"I'm aware of the risks."
Yuna answered without so much as a flicker of agitation.
"But I judged his potential value worth taking those risks. That unknown ability of his — we need to analyze it and understand it. Under controlled conditions."
She pointed at the Bugbear's movements in the hologram.
"If we can stabilize that ability and integrate it with our technology, the ripple effects could be beyond anything we can imagine."
Even after her explanation, her teammates still looked unconvinced. Titan grumbled.
"And you think that guy's just going to cooperate nicely? Something about him felt unstable."
"That's something we'll have to figure out as we go."
Yuna's reply was brief.
"He said he needed time to think. I intend to wait for now."
She recalled ordering the intel analysis team to dig up his personal information. Starting with his name, there was a great deal she needed to learn.
That was when Laser asked, a mischievous smile curling his lips.
"So are you in contact with this Driller right now, Yuna? When will we know if he accepts the invitation? Or are you two already exchanging personal messages on the regular?"
The question left Yuna momentarily speechless.
Contact? Come to think of it, she had handed him a data chip with her contact information — and never received his in return. Until he reached out first, she had no way of contacting him herself.
Her brow furrowed before she could stop it. To make such a basic mistake…
"…I only gave him my contact info. I didn't get his."
She kept the answer short, doing her best to sound completely unbothered.
"Oh-ho?"
Laser's eyes lit up with pure mischief. He crossed his arms and needled her with exaggerated theatrics.
"The pride of Icarus, the cold and collected Silver Witch, parted ways with some nobody mercenary without even getting his number? That's not like you. Did you freeze up and forget? Or did you leave the door open on purpose?"
Beside him, Titan burst into a hearty laugh, and even Doctor regarded Yuna with open interest.
The faintest flush seemed to touch Yuna's cheeks, but she immediately fixed Laser with a frigid stare. Under that icy look, he cleared his throat and discreetly averted his eyes.
"Nonsense."
Yuna bit the word off short and turned her attention back to the holographic data.
Will he actually contact me? And when?
Right then, a quiet notification chimed from her personal terminal integrated into the briefing table. It was the report from the intel analysis team she had personally tasked just a short while ago.
Yuna's brow furrowed deep.
No records… at all?
That was absurd. In this information age, even back-alley criminals left traces somewhere. For a human skilled enough to pilot a mecha to have a completely blank record was next to impossible.
An alias? Forged identity? The possibility existed, of course. But his piloting skill wasn't something that could be acquired in a short span of time.
So where had he come from? How had he gained that kind of ability?
The questions piled on top of one another without end. His inexplicable piloting talent, the unidentified energy patterns, and now a past that simply did not exist. The more she learned, the deeper the labyrinth around him seemed to grow.
Without realizing it, Yuna clenched her fist.
The frustration of standing before a problem with no answer — and the fierce urge to find that answer no matter what. This went beyond professional curiosity or cold corporate calculation.
Cog 7. Just who the hell are you?
Despite the rock-hard mattress of the cheap inn, I slept more deeply than I had in a long time.
I splashed cold water on my face in the cramped bathroom, then left the lower-level district where the inn sat, deciding to deal with my hunger first. I approached a street stall along one side of the corridor selling bowls of steaming, unidentifiable noodles and ordered one. The spice blend was unfamiliar, but it was better than expected. Once the hot broth hit my stomach, I finally felt like I was alive again.
Fed and somewhat restored, I set out toward the scrapyard alley. It sat several sectors deeper than the central corridor, right on the edge of the station's industrial district. The closer I got, the fouler the air became and the louder the noise hammered at my ears — the shriek of cutting metal, the thud of hammering, the roar of engine tests. Workshops large and small lined both sides of the passage without end.
I need to find a mechanic I can trust around here…
I walked the alley slowly, scanning the shops. Walk into the wrong place and I'd either get fleeced or end up with a botched repair that wrecked the machine even worse.
In the game, where did I go in situations like this?
I cast my mind back to my days as a Galaxy Titans player. Terminus had been the largest free city in the game, home to countless named NPC technicians. And among them, especially…
One memory surfaced with sudden force.
The three female NPCs that players half-jokingly, half-seriously called the Three Goddesses. Each of them had dominated her own field with overwhelming presence.
The first was a corporate ace pilot — Yuna, famous for her crushing skill and cold beauty. Who would have thought I'd meet her in the flesh.
The second was a genius mecha mechanic who lived in hiding right here in Terminus: Scarlet. She was legendary for taking any pile of scrap and resurrecting it as a custom machine with monstrous performance. She specialized in unconventional close-combat frames and illegal modifications, and players flocked to Terminus just to commission work from her.
And the third one was… who was it again?
Strangely, my memory of the third goddess was hazy. An information broker? Some other kind of specialist? She had been important, I was sure of it, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing came. Then again, I'd always skipped the story content, so maybe that was only natural. Yuna had appeared as a hidden boss, and I'd visited Scarlet now and then to buy specialty parts.
Damn it, why can't I remember?
I shook my head and forced myself to focus on the problem in front of me.
Red hair, and a spider tattoo inked on one arm. Scarlet's image from the game rose clearly in my mind. She was nothing like a delicate beauty — more the healthy, robust type, a woman who could hold her own. Players had also called her the Red Spider Queen.
Her workshop had been tucked away somewhere hard to find, but I remembered it because of the distinctive sign: a red spider spinning a web shaped like a gear.
I started combing the scrapyard alley from end to end, weaving between countless signs and workshops in search of that sign from my game memories. The alley was a maze, and the touts were relentless.
After what felt like forever, I finally spotted the familiar emblem in the deepest corner of the alley. A mid-sized workshop that looked a touch cleaner than the others around it. Above the entrance hung a metal sign, rusted but still recognizable — a red spider casting a gear-shaped web. Beneath it, faded lettering read: Scarlet's Web — Custom Mecha & Modification Specialists.
Found it!
I reached for the workshop door. The heavy metal slab sensed my approach and slid aside with a hydraulic hiss. The moment it opened, ear-splitting rock music slammed into me.
Inside, the space was larger than I'd expected. The ceiling soared high, and tools of every description hung along the walls in impossibly neat order. In one corner sat what looked like a state-of-the-art industrial 3D printer and machining units, while mechanical parts of every size and unknown purpose were sorted by type across the shelves. Multiple complex holographic blueprints hovered above the workbenches. This was a world apart from the other shops in the alley — a space that radiated a professional's system and discipline.
I scanned the workshop for Scarlet. She was under a mecha arm suspended from a crane, completely absorbed in welding. Over a tight sleeveless work shirt she wore a heavy protective apron, her vivid red hair tied up high and tight. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face, but the arm muscles visible beyond the welding sparks were no joke. And every time she moved, the intricate red-and-black spider tattoo etched into her left forearm flashed into view.
No question. That was Scarlet.
The blaring rock music had kept her from noticing my entrance. I watched her work for a moment. The way she handled the high-output welder looked less like industrial labor and more like a painter laying down delicate brushstrokes.
The instant I took another step inside, she somehow sensed me — she stopped mid-weld at once, set down the torch, and spun to face me with startling agility. She flipped up the welding mask that had covered her face, revealing features streaked with sweat and soot but striking all the same.
Yeah, she's pretty.
No wonder they called her one of the Three Goddesses. Sharp eyes, a straight nose, full lips. An attractive face — but what hit first was the fierce charisma and absolute confidence pouring out of those eyes.
She looked me up and down, brow deeply furrowed.
"The hell do you want?"
I could tell in a single breath that she had a rough personality.