Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Pursuit
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The cockpit was utterly silent. After a long moment, the Griffin said woodenly, "...You blasted the Emperor."
"..."
"You blasted Emperor Heinrich. That's assassination. That's high treason... Oh God! How could you do something like this!"
Gavin corrected him. "Calm down. Note it's 'you' who blasted the Emperor. The particle cannon wasn't mounted on my hand."
"I'm your pilot!"
"No, you're Aaron's pilot."
"You... How can you be so shameless!" The Griffin's mind took a heavy blow. In grief and indignation, he wailed, "I'm going to testify against you in a military tribunal! I can be a tainted witness! Waaah, I'm about to become the first mech in imperial history to be dismantled for treason waaah..."
"Your testimony won't be admissible. You're just a mech, after all." Gavin thought for a moment, then added, "More precisely, you're just a machine. Lighten up."
"So what if I'm a machine! Do machines not have rights?! People who look down on machines will one day weep for them! I tell you, you're a barbaric, unreasonable, tyrannical..."
The Griffin's voice cut off. He asked bitterly, "Do you know what 'Alpha chauvinism' is?"
"...No."
"Good. I wish you end up with an extreme chauvinist Alpha someday. You'll match perfectly in your foul temper and be very happy together!"
"..." Gavin hesitated. "Th... thanks? I'll take that as a compliment."
Red Earth Star was a scene of utter desolation. The particle cannon's glow lingered in the night sky. After a moment, the Ghost Mech suddenly burst into laughter. "Hahaha—! Heinrich! Next year today will be the anniversary of your..."
Before he could finish, a thunderous boom rang out. Another shell struck the Ghost Mech dead-on, engulfing the other half of the sky in roaring flames.
The scarlet-gold Griffin elegantly (and fairly) completed a double strike, then shot into the sky like a rocket blasting off the ground. Amid the gale-force winds, it drew the nuclear dual blades from its back, slicing through the intercepting royal fleet like a hot knife through butter! Countless smaller ships fell victim in the firelight. Soldiers' furious roars echoed everywhere. "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" "Prepare escape pods, forced landing!" "Where's the navigator? We're done for—!"
"General Aaron!" an officer on a vanguard ship bellowed. "What are you doing?! Surrender now!"
"General Aaron" ignored him. The scarlet-gold Griffin leaped amid a sea of cannon fire, brushing past countless missiles trailing long plumes of smoke—like a grand festival of fireworks and flames.
Under the operator's immense mental output, the 3S-class mech unleashed its true power. Countless smaller ships shattered to pieces in a single clash. Even the vanguard ships equipped with the Empire's cutting-edge tech couldn't last two rounds before the mecha lion smashed them brutally to the ground with one claw, cratering the entire plain with a kilometer-wide pit.
"General Aaron—!" The commander bellowed hoarsely. "Stop this! Are you trying to assassinate His Majesty—!"
The scarlet-gold Griffin executed a flawless backflip in midair, beautifully dodging an energy bolt, then charged toward the starry sky.
At that moment, a blinding beam of light cleaved down from the black smoke. "Boom!" A earth-shaking roar erupted! —In the blink of an eye, the scarlet-gold Griffin crossed its dual blades just in time, barely blocking the strike with its overwhelming force.
The black smoke dispersed rapidly. The menacing, majestic face of the Bi'an Mech loomed overhead. It said, "You're not Aaron."
It flipped its massive sword. Gavin felt endless pressure bearing down, forcing him back over a hundred meters.
"Aaron wouldn't betray me," the Bi'an rumbled. "Who's piloting the Griffin?"
An explosion of infinite light burst in his mind—like countless asteroids detonating at once. That was the sign of a mech operator's mental domain being invaded by a superior force.
Gavin clutched his chest and coughed heavily. The next second, he raised his head and boldly pointed his blades at the Bi'an.
"—Griffin!" Heinrich's voice shook the mountains and plains. "—Answer me!"
His answer was a heaven-splitting blade flash.
The scarlet-gold Griffin was like a streak of molten fire, precisely evading the Emperor's charge and thrusting its dual blades deep into the Bi'an's side!
The sight in that instant was spectacular beyond words. The two peerless 3S-class colossal mechs collided like gods from the dawn of creation, their clashes across the vast heavens whipping up fierce gales that bathed the entire night sky in indescribably gorgeous radiance.
Small warships couldn't fly in such violent air currents and rushed to make emergency landings on the shore. Countless imperial soldiers spilled out onto open ground, staring dumbstruck at the magnificent spectacle overhead.
"Who is that? Really not General Aaron?"
"Impossible. Who else could control the Griffin like this!"
"So strong... insanely strong!"
"You've noticed it too, haven't you, Your Majesty?" The Bi'an's deep voice echoed from inside the cockpit, sending faint ripples through the sea of mental power. "—The one piloting the Griffin can't possibly be General Aaron."
The Emperor opened his eyes from the depths of the mental sea. While effortlessly deflecting incoming energy bolts with one hand, he let out an "Oh?"
"General Aaron's combat skills are second to none. His solo prowess has been renowned across the galaxy since the Alliance days. But this Griffin's pilot has no coherent tactics at all—just brute mental output to barely hold against you."
"Impressive enough already."
"Yes. His total dominance over the Griffin surprised me... His mental threshold exceeds anything I can calculate. He's even locked down a mech of that caliber in his own mental domain."
The Bi'an paused, then said, "Forcing an intercept might injure General Aaron."
Heinrich fell silent.
The Bi'an knew what he was thinking.
After Marshal Celia died, the Emperor's temperament had changed a great deal. He grew even more bloodthirsty and ruthless toward enemies, but for the founding generals who'd followed him from the Alliance rebellion, he held a nostalgic reverence and cherish.
They shared his memories of Marshal Celia. Each one was proof that the man had once existed.
"Aaron and I were classmates at the military academy. We got expelled together, met Marshal Celia together, became his personal guards together... We knew each other's secrets and kept them safe for one another, right up until Celia died."
The Emperor paused, his voice sinking. "He always favored Aaron more than me. If Aaron died, he might not be happy."
The Bi'an murmured softly, "Your Majesty..."
"Prepare the 'Nirvana Spear.'" The Emperor cut it off. "Issue an ultimatum to the enemy: release Aaron, and I'll spare his life. Otherwise, kill without mercy!"
At the same time, high above, a pitch-black metal spear slowly materialized in the Bi'an's grip. With a hum, blood-red energy marrow fluid coursed through the entire shaft.
"The Nirvana Spear! It's the Nirvana Spear!" The Griffin wailed like a banshee. "Surrender now! I don't want to die under the Phoenix's spear!"
The word "Phoenix" struck a chord deep in Gavin's subconscious. "What do you mean?"
"That's the ultimate weapon stripped from the Phoenix mech—the 'Nirvana Spear' of Alliance War God Marshal Celia! You wanna die? Not me! I haven't finished the 300GB of steamy vids in my storage! I haven't held the little Phoenix's hand! I haven't done this and that and that and this to it yet..."
"..." Gavin said, "Somehow, I feel like you really do deserve to die. Where's the escape pod?"
"What?"
"Where's the escape pod?"
A glowing green tendril cautiously tapped somewhere in the cockpit. Gavin set the auto-evasion system, then hauled the unconscious Aaron over and roughly stuffed him into the pod.
He activated the comms. Clearly, this unlucky imperial general was on good terms with the Emperor—no password needed to link straight into the Bi'an's internal channel.
"Your Majesty," Gavin paused, then asked. "You there?"
Inside the Bi'an, the Emperor's eyes snapped open. A crack appeared in his eternally icy expression.
"Let's make a deal." The young man's voice was calm and even. "I give you back the general, you let me go. Sound good?"
The Emperor: "..."
"Rumor has it imperial generals are pretty valuable. You wouldn't want me tossing him out the hatch to freely plummet to the ground, right? Look, I just don't want to be an Empire guinea pig for gene experiments. That's my right to personal freedom, isn't it?"
The Griffin whispered, "Actually, no. Empire law mandates government oversight for underage Omegas..."
Gavin shot it a glare, and the Griffin instantly muted itself.
"Sorry for blasting you earlier. I thought you looked easy to bully." The young man continued sincerely. "My bad, Your Majesty. As compensation, how about I blast that Ghost Mech for you?"
In the distance, the fleeing rebels' Ghost Mech was struggling up from the black smoke. The scarlet-gold Griffin whipped around and fired, obliterating its upper half in a shower of debris!
A gale carrying dust howled past. The young man turned back and asked earnestly, "So, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor smiled faintly, though there was no mirth in his ice-blue eyes. "Your voice reminds me of someone I used to know. Sorry, I got lost in thought for a moment."
"The deal sounds good. How about this: you hand over Aaron, then step out of the cockpit with your hands up. In exchange, I'll spare your life and won't force you to kneel or use any violence to make you surrender. What do you think?"
Gavin's pupils contracted.
The next second, he roared desperately, "Griffin—! Climb!"
The scarlet-gold mech shot straight up. The Nirvana Spear swept past its feet, instantly igniting millions of lightning bolts in the atmosphere!
The two golden colossal mechs raced toward the sky, one after the other. The Bi'an trailed the Griffin by mere inches. The Nirvana Spear nearly grazed the Griffin's tail wings several times. The black war spear lived up to its divine reputation—each swing triggered massive ionization, and descending thunderbolts scorched the Griffin pitch-black.
The impacts nearly made Gavin vomit blood. He roared, "Aren't you 3S-class?! Why can't you defend at all?!"
"Useless! The God Spear is 4S!"
"Bullshit, there's no such grade!"
"There is! Internal mech community rating! The God Spear runs on the Marshal's marrow fluid!"
"But the Marshal's dead, isn't he?!"
"Not out of marrow fluid yet!" Amid the crushing thunder, the Griffin rolled and cried, "Run! I can't take much more!"
Gavin lunged from the console to the far end of the violently shaking cockpit, wrenching the manual escape hatch lever with all his might.
The hatch blew open instantly. The rushing airflow nearly sucked him out. He grabbed Aaron's pod and shoved it outward with every ounce of strength.
Griffin: "Aaaahhhhh—!"
The Griffin watched heartbroken as its (former) master was ejected from the cockpit, freely embracing the earth's pull. In that moment, it finally understood the tragic plight of those Empire Omegas contested by countless Alphas with no personal freedom.
"Run!" Gavin turned imperiously. "Or I'll scrap you!"
The Griffin bawled, charging out of the atmosphere in its charred armor and vanishing into the dense thunderclouds.
In its final glimpse of Red Earth Star, the golden Bi'an was diving down, snatching the pod just before it crashed.
2.
Ophiuchus M12 Nebula.
The Griffin, transformed into a spaceship, drifted silently in the void.
The golden stellar wind was spectacular and magnificent, plating its battered hull in radiant splendor.
Gavin sat by the porthole with arms crossed. The cockpit had shifted to living quarters mode—a compact one-person suite. General Aaron was clearly well-off; the living room's furnishings were simple yet elegant, and a plush double bed dominated most of the bedroom space.
"...Does a single guy fighting wars abroad really need a bed this big?" Gavin mused thoughtfully. "General, you really know how to enjoy life... Ah."
The Griffin said indignantly, "Not like that! The General just hogs the blankets in his sleep!"
Gavin shrugged noncommittally and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The glowing green neural band trailed him to the door, persisting relentlessly. "Don't you dare insult General Aaron's integrity! Know that?! The General's been runner-up for 'Most Hated Imperial Male by Omegas' for thirty years straight! Only His Majesty can challenge his dignity!"
"...This guy's dignity is already gone."
Gavin slammed the door with a bang, nearly slicing the neural band in two. The Griffin slunk back to the living room resentfully. Soon, all was quiet.
Gavin stood in the bathroom, staring at his naked reflection. He'd never examined himself this closely before. The young man's frame was slender and lean, yet strikingly upright and sharp; his skin a healthy honey tone, muscles thin and even, lines clean and taut—like coiled compact power.
The image felt utterly alien. For a few seconds, he didn't even recognize it as himself.
Too young. Too brash.
He should be older, steadier, broader, more resilient. Tempered by more storms, bearing the wisdom and tolerance of years, untouched by any calamity or pain in his eyes.
The body in the mirror felt ill-fitting, like a uniform-wearer suddenly stuffed into garish finery—strange even to himself.
Gavin shook his head and stepped under the spray, figuring he was just too tense. Freshly escaped from the Empire's mad scientists, where to next?
He knew nothing of the vast cosmos. Should've been nicer to that dumb lion.
Gavin closed his eyes under the warm water, pondering his next move. The pleasant heat relaxed him deeply. Unbeknownst, a faint warmth stirred inside, acidic fluid seeping slowly from his neural hub to his limbs.
The sensation was oddly wondrous. Seconds later, it deepened into profound emptiness, a subtle itch twitching beneath his skin.
His body softened, knees buckling, an indescribable tingling itch surging unbearably from deep within.
"Ah..."
Realizing how off that sound was, Gavin froze, locking eyes with his flushed reflection.
"The water... the water's off, right?" Gavin hastily shut off the shower and bolted out wrapped in a bathrobe.
The Griffin was playing soft music in the living room. The circulating air revived him. "Quick, blast me with cold air!"
Bewildered, the mech immediately vented a gust laced with ice crystals. "Like this?"
Gavin shivered hard, the weird inner turmoil subsiding. "Yeah, keep it coming, don't stop... Much better."
"You okay?"
"Fine."
The mech said, "Oh. That's weird then. Your hormone scent is super strong and smells great. Must be pre-heat, right? You sure you're fine?"
Gavin's head snapped up, convinced he'd misheard. "...Pre-heat?!"
"Kid, congrats—you're about to become an adult." The 3S-class smart mech said kindly. "There's half a month of precursors before the first true heat after maturity: hormone imbalance, mood swings, appetite loss, even violent tendencies in some Omegas... The full heat hits hard after. Omega pheromones carry kilometers. That scent's insanely alluring—up close, every male Alpha loses their mind from the stimulation."
The mech pondered. "No wonder you're so violent. Classic pre-heat signs—I get it now. I'll forgive you with a tolerant, noble heart."
"..." Gavin said woodenly, "No, I don't get it."
The young man crouched dazed in the cold blast, face pale, lips trembling—looking utterly pitiable (wrong) fragile (big wrong). The Griffin cautiously extended a neural tendril and poked his cheek.
"Chin up, kid," the Griffin said solemnly. "Gender's innate. Don't belittle yourself."
A mechanical tendril whirred up from the console, tapping away before printing a stack of sheets. At the top, a huge black headline screamed: Omega Physiology Basics and Intro to ABO Relations. Author: Aaron. Published by Imperial Royal Press.
"Here," the Griffin said warmly. "General Aaron's thesis from the Imperial Academy."
Gavin: "..."
Half an hour later, Gavin set down the papers, deeply sensing the malice of the universe.
"I don't get it," he said sincerely. "How did a guy who writes crap like 'Since Omegas are rare and defenseless, they must be strictly protected and regulated, not let out on the streets willy-nilly' graduate?!"
"Because he's a general," the Griffin said cheerfully. "So, thoughts?"
Most people couldn't glean much from the thesis. General Aaron was a die-hard chauvinist Alpha, backing many controversial imperial laws—like allowing stronger Alphas to forcibly reclaim marked Omegas, funding military R&D for drugs boosting Omega heat and fertility rates... etc. It explained why, as one of the Empire's top Alphas, Aaron remained a sad bachelor.
But Gavin wasn't most people. With his innate big-picture instinct, he distilled this: First, Omega numbers had dwindled to a threat to the Empire. Second, for survival and continuity, the Empire enforced harsh policies on Omegas, prettily packaged as "vulnerable gender protection laws."
Absurd, really. Rulers were mostly Alphas, innately possessive and protective of Omegas. Yet for species survival, they resorted to brutal restrictions on Omega freedom.
Omegas, naturally, hated it—they weren't brain-dead just because their physiques were weaker. Their contributions to tech and arts rivaled anyone's. No way they wanted to be penned up birthing kids all day.
Enter Omega pheromone suppressants.
Chemical miracles, they fully quashed heats, rendering Omegas asexual. Newer models even mimicked Beta scents, making Omegas indistinguishable.
They exploded in popularity among Omegas but were like stealing food from Alphas' mouths—soon the most hated thing.
Under ruling Alphas' fierce opposition, the Empire swiftly passed production caps. Suppressants were now government-monopolized, priceless on the black market.
"I need this stuff," Gavin stood and asked. "Where do I get it?"
"Wha—? Suppressants? No no no, using them without authorization to dodge heat is a serious crime, and they're harmful long-term: organ failure, shortened lifespan, infertility..."
"Perfect, infertility." Gavin said. "That's the one."
If the Griffin had a face, it'd be =口= right now. "How can you say that! Kids are so cute! Soft and fluffy and adorable! I suggest you head to the imperial capital, White Heron Star, and register with the Omega Protection Association. They'll match you with a suitable Alpha to ride out your heat..."
Gavin's eye twitched. "No thanks."
"No no, listen. You have to go to White Heron Star. Other planets have AO ratios over 40:1. Once heat starts, every Alpha will hunt you down—violence is legal in captures. That hormone scent is inescapable, sweet enough to drive them mad. They'll do anything for you... Know the old Alliance law 'Marked Omegas can't be re-marked non-consensually'? Barely exists now. Even if you've bonded with a perfect Alpha, a stronger one can legally re-mark you if your current mark's weak. It's agony."
"White Heron Star barely has rule of law left," the Griffin paused. "At least there, you get a choice—not a mob of feral Alphas running wild."
Gavin stared at the vent for a long moment. His first thought: Bullshit?
But mechs didn't lie. Even smart ones exaggerated only so much.
"Worst case, even if you wanna fake Beta, only White Heron has suppressants." The mech's tone shifted slyly, like a big bad wolf luring Little Red. "The Royal Military Academy there oversees them—stockpiles tons... If you can sneak in."
Gavin eyed it suspiciously. "You sound like you're luring me to White Heron."
The mech instantly hummed innocently, all nonchalance.
"..." Gavin said, "I've decided to give you a makeover. Like bunny girl? I can turn you into a bunny boy, stripping in space, and snap pics with the external cams to send your little Phoenix..."
The Griffin froze solid.
It was quintessence alloy—shape-shifting capable.
"...My star charts are fried," it finally admitted after agonizing struggle. "Navigation's wrecked by the Nirvana Spear. Can't go anywhere but White Heron now."
"And I have no fuel. Only the Royal Academy has the mech marrow fluid I need..."
Dead silence gripped the cabin, like the calm before a storm.
After a beat, the neural tendril shyly wiggled, wheedling. "Let's go to White Heron... okay?"