Luofu Xianzhou, Xuanya Avenue, the officially designated photoshoot location—
Inside the spacious, brilliantly lit professional photography studio, soft fill lights illuminated every corner with meticulous clarity.
Reflectors, softboxes, and various models of high-end camera lenses were arranged in perfect order. The air carried the distinct, blended scent of heated electronics and cosmetics.
As everyone knew, our beloved "Savior of Light" possessed a flawless moral character. She absolutely never dirtied her hands with vulgar gossip or baseless rumors, much less engaged in the despicable act of snooping on others' private lives.
Everything she did was purely for the sake of Great Art—specifically, to gather necessary, highly serious field research for her blood, sweat, and tears passion project: the epic RPG Homu's Great Adventure.
It just so happened that certain real-world events perfectly mirrored Her Excellency the Savior's artistic vision.
That was why she faithfully recorded them with a devout heart, hoping that one day these "tributes to the classics" would be immortalized as legendary epics passed down by gamers for generations to come!
"Heh. You think I actually believe a word of that?"
Bronya leaned back expressionlessly on the lounge sofa, glancing sideways at her chaotic friend who was currently excitedly adjusting an incredibly expensive camera.
As one of the heavy favorites to win the Wardance, the members of Team Dimensional Boundary Break had naturally been invited to the shoot as well.
"Wahahaha! My heart and actions are utterly unclouded! Everything I do is the work of absolute justice!"
Instead of being offended by the mockery, Kyuushou proudly tilted her chin up. Her bandage-wrapped hand covered her "Wicked Lord's True Eye" as she let out her signature, chuunibyou-fueled villainous cackle.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Bronya really couldn't stand her smug face. "In that case, as the Chief Financial Officer of Hyperion, shouldn't I be charging the Great Savior a hefty licensing fee for the use of my and my idiot brother's portrait rights?"
"Hmph! Divine Departure isn't as stingy as you!"
The girl scoffed, wearing an arrogant 'what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it' expression. "As for you, this Savior simply needs to make a tiny adjustment to a certain character's model in the next patch. I'll just change her hair color to a vibrant neon green and optimize her chest to be as flat as a cutting board! Who could possibly connect her to you then?!"
"Despicable!"
"You're the despicable one!"
Kyuushou cast a fiercely jealous, hateful glare at the absolutely sinful curves packed tightly into Bronya's fitted combat suit, and then at her flawless, angelic face.
"You didn't have the natural talent, so you relied on scientific enhancements and dark magic, didn't you?! Change back to that flat-pad who was under five feet tall and needed to stand on a cardboard box just to reach the snacks on the top shelf!"
"Bronya simply hit a natural growth spurt," the girl replied indifferently, pushing her chest out slightly and casually flipping a lock of silver-grey hair. "On the other hand, instead of sitting here drowning in jealousy, shouldn't a certain night-owl try fixing her completely inverted, graveyard-shift sleep schedule? You might still be salvageable."
"True," Fuli chimed in, nodding as he materialized out of nowhere with a hot drink provided by the staff.
His gaze swept over Kyuushou's straight, slender legs encased in purple pantyhose, and her modest but beautifully shaped chest. His tone was entirely sincere:
"Your figure hasn't gone out of shape despite staying up all night every single day. I can't even imagine what kind of knockout you'd become if you actually took some time to exercise properly."
"See?! Divine Departure gets it! You're the only one in the world who truly understands me!"
Having her potential recognized, Kyuushou laughed heartily, looking thrilled to have found a kindred spirit.
"Still, you should probably change the virtual avatar you use as an info-broker when you get the chance," Fuli added. "The 'Alice' design—the gothic loli in a nightgown with long black hair—is definitely appealing, but you need to maintain your anonymity."
"I actually have been thinking about changing my avatar lately. After all, considering how much gossip I output... I mean, considering how much precious artistic reference material I share with the world, there are definitely some unsportsmanlike folks out there trying to strip away this Savior's alt-account and doxx my perfect real life... Wait. Huehuehue... WAIT A MINUTE!!!"
Halfway through her sentence, Kyuushou's voice abruptly cut off like a duck being strangled.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. She leaped backward a full step, extending a trembling finger and pointing at Fuli in sheer disbelief. "Y-Y-You! How do you know about Alice?!"
"Well, about that..."
Fuli scratched his cheek and glanced over at Bronya.
"B-RO-NYA!"
Kyuushou instantly understood everything.
She let out a shriek of tragic indignation and lunged at Bronya, fully prepared to scratch her eyes out.
Unfortunately, her reality was far crueler than her ideals.
Before she could even touch the hem of Bronya's clothes, the girl smoothly executed a reverse joint-lock and slammed her face-first into the floor.
"You traitor! You sold me out!"
Kyuushou struggled frantically, but her pitiful strength was absolutely nothing against a Critical Class powerhouse.
In fact, her squirming only caused her shirt collar to slip down, exposing her delicate collarbones and pressing her modest chest against the floor like two squished persimmons.
"Honestly, even if little sis here hadn't slipped up, I would have found out sooner or later," Fuli said kindly, crouching down to look at the pinned girl. "Think about it. I completely hacked your firewall and doxxed you back during the Third Eruption. If I really wanted to trace the source of those rumors, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it?"
This was a blatant lie.
Little Li and Houraiji Kyuushou—the infamous info-broker "Alice"—had formed their connection in the previous timeline loop.
It had happened during a specific intel exchange when Kyuushou got too cocky and accidentally let the location of a supposed "abandoned safehouse" slip. It had absolutely nothing to do with Fuli possessing god-tier tracking skills.
The problem was, Her Excellency the Savior didn't know that.
Her struggles paused. She tilted her head, thought about it, and realized it actually made total freaking sense.
Moreover, after interacting with him for so long, she knew Divine Departure wasn't the type to use her personal info for anything malicious. He definitely wasn't going to burst into her house and break her into a helpless, pitiful, mind-broken slave...
Tch. For some reason, realizing that Fuli wouldn't do something like that actually pissed her off more.
Probably because it felt like a total denial of her inherent charm as a beautiful girl?
Ah, women. Truly complex creatures. (Laughs)
Thus, Kyuushou pounded the floor angrily, venting her frustration on the Bronya currently pinning her down.
"Information-leaking traitor! Just watch! I'm going to turn the character based on you into the final boss of Homu's Great Adventure! When the Hero Divine Departure defeats you, I'll program your voice lines to make you screech in weird, humiliating noises exactly 33,550,336 times!"
"Oh really? Guess I'll just snap your arm in three million places right now, then," Bronya sneered, applying more pressure to the joint-lock.
"OW OW OW! I'M DYING! LIGHTER! GO LIGHTER, MY BONES ARE GONNA SNAP!"
The previously ferocious Savior instantly started bawling and begging for mercy like a coward.
This was the ultimate proof that running your mouth felt great in the moment, but the aftermath was always a cremation.
Especially since Bronya had very recently endured three agonizing hours subjected to the First Rated Power of the Jizo Mitama. She had been reduced to a screeching fire engine, making thoroughly unholy, un-immortal-like noises right in front of her cheap brother and her romantic rival, and she still had a mountain of pent-up embarrassment with nowhere to vent it.
She had fully intended to seal that incident away as a dark history forever, knowing Fuli and Mei would never speak of it.
And then this idiot just had to poke the wound?
Hah! Take my ultimate tickle attack!
"AHAHAHAHA! STOP! SPARE ME! AHAHAHA!"
Earth-shattering bursts of laughter and desperate pleas for mercy instantly echoed across half the studio, drawing sideways glances from Asta, Kaguya, and the others in the nearby resting areas.
However, the moment they saw Fuli standing next to the chaos, they all tacitly looked away and went back to their own business.
Wherever Li-bao/The Boss/That Guy/His Excellency went, chaos inevitably followed. You just had to get used to it.
The only exception was in the resting area of Team Robin is Number One. The team's Halovian captain—who stubbornly wore a mask and massive sunglasses that covered half his face even indoors, and refused to disclose his real name—was frowning fiercely.
So this is the human male my sister has been caught up in rumors with?
Frivolous demeanor. Laughing carelessly. Encouraging his companions to brawl in public! A thoroughly rotten apple!
A little while later, seeing that the official shoot was about to begin, Bronya finally showed mercy and released the utterly defeated Kyuushou, who was now a teary-eyed, limp noodle with heavily disheveled clothes.
"Cough... cough! B-ro-nya, you just wait! If I don't avenge this, I'm no Savior!"
Kyuushou frantically tried to fix her messy pantyhose and hair while glaring at Bronya with tear-filled eyes.
Unfortunately, combined with her flushed face and heavy panting, the threat carried absolutely zero intimidation factor.
Since multiple teams were being photographed simultaneously, Fuli briefly greeted the other teams he knew before leading the members of Memory Battleship—Hyacine, Castorice, and Mimi (who was currently perched on his head like a fluffy pink winter hat)—into their designated shooting zone.
The studio was clearly partitioned, and the lighting and backdrops had already been roughly adjusted to match their team's aesthetic.
Soon, they spotted Houraiji Kyuushou standing right in the center of their set. She had changed into a highly professional photographer's vest and was excitedly calibrating her camera.
It was only then that Fuli realized she hadn't actually participated in the Wardance tournament at all.
Considering her recent explosive popularity as a renowned gossip editor, she had likely been officially invited by the organizers specifically for this.
Though, I wonder who the main subject of all the scandalous rumors she spreads is?
Truly, a tragic story.
"Hurry, hurry! Divine Departure, and Divine Departure's harem! Get over here! Come on, strike a few cool poses for me! Leave it to this Savior, I guarantee I'll make you look ten times more photogenic than you do in real life!"
Kyuushou's eyes practically sparkled when she saw them, waving her arms enthusiastically.
Her passionate demeanor made it look like she wasn't shooting official promotional material, but rather the magnum opus of her personal art exhibition.
"We are not a harem," Fuli sighed, helplessly correcting the absurd title once again before turning to his teammates. "Everyone, let's just go with the plan we practiced beforehand. No problems, right?"
"Don't worry, Li-bao! Leave it to us!"
Hyacine energetically flashed an 'OK' sign.
"Mi!"
Mimi, still perched on his head, had stars literally shining in her eyes.
Even the usually painfully shy Castorice, encouraged by the floating Little March and Endless Night Moon, mustered her courage. "Um... I'll do my best."
"Alright! Then—"
Following Fuli's signal, the three humans and one mammal quickly assumed their positions.
Fuli stood front and center, chest puffed out, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a wildly arrogant 'We're the absolute best in the world' smirk.
Hyacine stood half a step behind his left shoulder. Her right hand was clenched into a fist across her chest, while her left arm was thrust forward, pointing toward the horizon.
Castorice stood behind his right shoulder. Her pose was more reserved; she stood slightly sideways, her hands elegantly folded over her waist.
As for Mimi on Fuli's head, she puffed up all her pink fur and bared her tiny fangs, trying her absolute hardest to look fiercely intimidating.
Then, in perfect unison, they shouted their pre-rehearsed catchphrases:
"I am the Great Lord of Hyperion!"
"I am the Great Lord of the Underworld Wraiths!"
"I am the Great Lord of the Twilight Courtyard!"
"Mimi-mimi-mi!"
Their voices were booming. Their poses were... unique.
The entire tableau looked like a cursed piece of avant-garde performance art—so unbelievably corny and cringe-inducing that it somehow circled back to having a bizarrely passionate, impactful aura.
"..."
Houraiji Kyuushou, who had been fully prepared to show off her skills, froze completely rigid. She cringed so hard she actually forgot to press the shutter.
The girl had always firmly believed that her tolerance threshold for internet-tier cringe was god-like, honed through years of surfing the deepest, darkest web forums.
However, when Fuli and the members of Memory Battleship struck that formation right in front of her face, her artistic soul and professional integrity simultaneously let out a high-pitched scream of agony.
Was it really that bad? Oh, absolutely.
Since these were promotional photos, Fuli and the girls were naturally wearing their official Memory Battleship team uniforms.
Thanks to Hyperion's "fine traditions," the outfits had been personally designed by Kiana.
Driven by highly specific, territorial motives, Kiana had intentionally used the exact same purple-and-yellow color scheme as a certain basketball legend.
Her entire goal was to ensure that Fuli couldn't possibly look too handsome in it, preventing him from accidentally seducing more women and spawning an army of new romantic rivals for her.
Normally, even if the color scheme looked like utter garbage, the sheer, overpowering physical attractiveness of the team members could still carry the outfits.
But combining those outfits with that dog-shit, off-brand-Power-Ranger pose?
That was a quantitative change leading to a horrific qualitative disaster.
"You! You people!"
Her hair literally standing on end, Kyuushou lunged forward and practically dragged Fuli out of that absolutely cursed, 'What can I say?' meme-tier pose.
She then ruthlessly dismantled Hyacine and Castorice's poses as well.
"Did your aesthetic sense get chewed up and spat out by a Honkai Beast?! Forget whatever that was! From now on, you do exactly what I tell you!"
Kyuushou instantly transformed into a tyrant, forcefully taking over the set. "Wardrobe! Bring out all the backup outfit plans I prepared! Yes, the suits! The evening gowns! And the modified Luofu-style military uniforms! Bring them all!"
The mighty Memory Battleship team was completely cowed by the Savior of Light's overpowering aura. They exchanged bewildered glances and nodded blankly.
"O-Oh... okay. You're the boss."
For the rest of the day, the three humans and one Mimi were thoroughly reduced to perfect, poseable dolls in the hands of Houraiji Kyuushou.
"Divine Departure! Lower your head slightly! The eyes! I need your eyes to be 50% deep, 20% rebellious, and 30% gentle!"
"My eyes aren't a freaking pie chart, lady!"
"Try harder! And the Healer! Smile! Brighter! Yes! Imagine you just saved an entire planet full of people!"
"U-Understood!"
"Death Maiden! Stop looking so stiff! Yes, just like that, tilt your head down slightly and look up at me through your lashes. Yes! That's exactly it—the perfect mix of pitiable fragility and hidden resilience!"
"Your Excellency, I want to go home..."
"Pink doggy! Fly over there next to the fill light!"
"Mi?"
"Yes, exactly! Use your tail to cast a tiny heart-shaped shadow right there! Perfect!"
Click!
"Change clothes! Next set! I need the black suits to give off an arrogant, unapproachable CEO vibe! The white gowns need to look as pure as angels! The military uniforms must look incredibly sharp! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
From morning until late afternoon, the studio echoed with Kyuushou's loud, occasionally thrilled, and frequently unhinged screaming.
Fuli and the girls were ordered around like spinning tops, changing outfit after outfit.
They wore everything from solemn tailored suits to gorgeous evening gowns, from sleek military uniforms to traditional Xianzhou-style robes, and even a few highly eccentric, fantasy-style cosplay outfits.
By the end of it, their facial muscles were locked into permanent, stiff smiles.
It wasn't until the golden hues of sunset began to outline the studio windows that the thoroughly satisfied girl finally shouted the most beautiful words in the human language:
"Alright! That's a wrap for today! Good job, everyone!"
God... shooting these promo photos was genuinely more exhausting than fighting that living planet during the preliminaries!
The three members of Memory Battleship—plus Mimi, who was so drained she had completely melted into a puddle on Fuli's shoulder, her fluffy ears and tail drooping pathetically—exchanged glances. They all saw the same profound exhaustion and sheer relief of surviving a disaster in each other's eyes.
However, just as they were dragging their hollowed-out bodies toward the exit, preparing to scatter and head home...
A long shadow, stretched diagonally by the setting sun, silently appeared at the doorway.
The silhouette was backlit and slightly blurred, but the cowboy hat, the messy silver-white hair, and that signature, unruly smirk were unmistakable.
It was Boothill.
"Howdy, partner. Looks like you're as popular as ever."
He flashed his trademark shark-toothed grin. With a flick of his fingers, a sliver of silver light cut through the slightly stale air of the studio.
Fuli raised a hand and caught it effortlessly. Opening his palm, he saw a uniquely designed bullet.
The casing wasn't standard brass, but an aged, weathered silver-grey. Intricate, complex star-map patterns were engraved along its surface, with microscopic points of light slowly pulsing within it.
"Keep it for self-defense."
The Galaxy Ranger's voice was as casually drawling as always, but it carried an undeniable, absolute certainty. "If you ever run into a problem you can't solve, or if some blind little muddlefudger dares to stab you in the back... just fire this bad boy into the sky."
Without even waiting for Fuli's response, he casually tipped his hat and swaggered off into the sunset.
"Mi?"
Slumped on Fuli's shoulder, Mimi barely managed to perk up one ear, staring curiously at the bullet radiating a strange frequency.
Hyacine and Castorice also gathered around, their faces filled with curiosity.
Fuli didn't keep them in suspense. He brought up the system interface to display the item's materialized information.
[Name: Reverse-Time Strike]
[Rank: SA]
[Category: Consumable / Strategic-Class]
[Effect: A spiraling bullet that eternally travels in the opposite direction of time's arrow, hunting down immortal entities that defy the flow of time like an unrelenting hound.
A specialized bullet crafted by the Galaxy Rangers through a highly classified method. Only heroes who have established peerless, legendary merits are worthy of possessing it. When it falls, countless shooting stars will tear across the sky—the blazing light of justice and righteous fury assembling as one.
The moment the holder fires this bullet, the Galaxy Rangers will assemble. They will ask no questions. They will count no costs. Because they all abide by one shared absolute: The shooting stars of the Hunt only fall in the longest, darkest night, and what follows in their wake... is the dawn!]
[Note: Gifted to the eternal friend of the entire Galaxy Ranger faction—The Lord of Hyperion, Fuli.]
"Your Excellency... this...!"
Castorice stood frozen in shock after reading the description. She wasn't the only one; even the normally bubbly Hyacine had her mouth slightly open, completely unable to process the sheer weight of the item.
Fuli remained silent for a moment before carefully and solemnly tucking the bullet into his inner pocket. Then, he put on a relaxed, teasing smile.
"I guess they finally got embarrassed about mooching off me for all those bullets and equipment I've been fronting them on credit, huh?"
Prometheus, however, understood the truth. No matter how lightly her host brushed it off, what Fuli had been doing carried an astronomical risk.
Need she remind him of the secret underground meeting Durandal had infiltrated not too long ago? The rats hiding in the darkest corners of the universe had already begun plotting to assassinate the "Lord of Hyperion" who kept meddling in their business by endlessly supplying resources to the Galaxy Rangers.
Even though Boothill had crashed that meeting and ruthlessly slaughtered every single conspirator, the malicious glares directed at Fuli from the shadows were far from extinguished.
It was only because Hyperion itself was terrifyingly powerful, and completely intertwined with behemoth factions like the Luofu and St. Freya, that a full-scale war hadn't broken out yet.
Ultimately, Fuli was using Hyperion's vast resources—and risking his own safety—to hold up a tiny patch of sky for those lone Rangers, giving the often-isolated wanderers of the Imaginary Tree a place to breathe as they enacted their justice.
And how could those proud, silent Rangers possibly fail to notice? How could they not respond?
Should good men always be the ones staring down the barrel of a gun? Should they bleed in silence, receiving no echoes in return?
No.
At least, according to the creed of the Galaxy Rangers, such a reality was utterly unacceptable.
And this Reverse-Time Strike was their answer.
Of course, what Fuli and the others didn't know was that internally, the Rangers initially had two proposed ways to repay him.
The first plan was simply to push a certain young ninja Ranger named "Rappa" forward to become Fuli's wife. That way, they'd officially be in-laws, making it much easier to justify "borrowing" a few supplies from him.
Boothill had actually subtly hinted at this plan while grabbing drinks with Little Li a while back, only for the boy to instantly veto it!
Rappa's waist is a lethal weapon, capable of mass destruction. Who knew if dodging that bullet was really a loss or a win?