Chapter 98: You're the Fox Friend, I'm the Dog Pal
Sometimes, the most utterly brainless actions were exactly what left brilliant tacticians scratching their heads.
It was a classic case of the fool trumping the master. If this entire spectacle was supposed to be a theatrical act, the actors were fighting with such apocalyptic ferocity that the script had clearly been thrown out the airlock long ago.
Two planet-class weapon frames erupted simultaneously in the starry expanse, their blinding light swallowing the darkness. Armor fragments sheared off, splashing in all directions like a violent meteor shower. The white and purple mechas pierced through each other's defenses as massive torrents of imaginary energy rampaged through the void. The sudden, catastrophic explosions caused even the distant stars to dim for a fleeting moment.
The movements of these two giant machines were entirely aimed at obliterating the opponent, striking with the heavy, desperate weight of a mortal vendetta. The damage to the mechs was entirely real, and the sheer consumption of imaginary energy was astronomical.
"...Elation?"
Standing on the Luofu, Jing Yuan rubbed his temples, racking his brilliant tactical mind before finally settling on a single plausible explanation.
But where was the Elation in this? What part of this mutual destruction was supposed to be elating?
Then there was Silver Wolf, casually passing through the battlefield while masquerading as another Lord Ravager. Except, her performance was more than a bit stiff. Or rather, she simply had zero interest in pretending to be a Lord Ravager of the Antimatter Legion; she was just lazily mashing buttons to play along with her friends.
Stelle and March 7th were the ones truly having the time of their lives.
"Wait, after the Thunderbolt and Typhoon frames fought like that, can they still be... used?"
"Yes, weren't the pieces just retrieved?"
"But weren't they blown into absolute scrap..."
"As long as a single part of them exists, they can be repaired."
Meanwhile, Welt and Delta stepped off the train.
They had also witnessed the entire super robot war between the Thunderbolt and the Typhoon from start to finish.
Welt stood completely still. His hands were trembling. His knuckles were white as he gripped his cane.
He was furious.
They actually did not let him pilot the giant robot!
For such an incredibly important, large-scale tactical deployment, they did not even think to look for him. Him! Welt Yang! The one man on the entire Astral Express who knew exactly how to handle giant mechas better than anyone else in the universe!
Was the frame operation stable enough? Was the pilot's synchronization rate properly tested? How could complete novices with zero actual mecha combat experience like March and Stelle possibly pilot such magnificent, cool machines properly!
Watching the two giant robots blow each other to pieces at the very end pierced Welt straight through the heart.
It physically hurt. The pain was immense.
Nonsense! This was absolute, unforgivable nonsense!
"These wanted posters are so abstract." Delta remarked casually, completely ignoring the older man's internal crisis as she inspected the crude wanted posters of Rekka and the others plastered on the nearby wall.
Welt pulled out his terminal. His fingers struck the screen with heavy, deliberate taps.
Welt: Rekka, send your location. I'm coming to find you.
But after Welt sent that ominous message, it was like dropping a stone into a bottomless ocean. Total silence.
Just what were those three doing?
I declare that this is the most fun day I've had since joining the Express, Stelle announced, her voice flat but carrying a distinct trace of immense satisfaction.
"Me too." March 7th lay halfway across a sleeping bag, exhausted, wiping a layer of sweat from her forehead.
Rekka suddenly sneezed.
He rubbed his nose, a sudden chill creeping up his spine, and pulled out his terminal to take a look. An unread message glowed ominously on the screen. The sender was Welt.
[Rekka, send your location. I'm coming to find you.]
It was sent exactly fifteen minutes ago.
Rekka swallowed hard. The sound was loud in the quiet space.
Not good.
"How do we deal with the cane?" Rekka's brow furrowed in deep distress.
"What, cane... no, you deal with Mr. Yang's problem yourself." Stelle immediately backed away, her survival instincts kicking in.
"Stelle, how can you cut ties with me so quickly?!"
"I don't want to be lectured by the cane."
"I can't escape, and neither can you!" Rekka lunged forward and grabbed Stelle by the collar.
"Stop playing around, you two." March 7th sat up, looking somewhat nervous. "How are we actually going to reply to Mr. Yang's message?"
Seeing the genuine worry on March's face, Rekka stopped messing around with Stelle. He cleared his throat, tapped his screen, and naturally sent a perfectly crafted message back to Welt.
Rekka: We were testing the mobility of the super robots in space. The units have been successfully recovered, and no one was injured. Next time, we can let Mr. Yang take Arahato out for a spin.
Welt: Ah~~~ I see.
In reality, both of them knew exactly what was going on. But Welt, thoroughly pacified by the promise of piloting his favorite mecha, chose not to call them out on their blatant joyride.
"You really understand Mr. Yang. Just a couple of sentences and you've got him completely turned around." March 7th commented, visibly impressed.
Stelle chimed in from the side, crossing her arms. "But March, aren't you often played like a fiddle by Rekka too?"
"What do you mean played? When have I ever been played? Isn't it always this lady playing him? Although... sometimes it's the other me who plays Rekka."
"Exactly, exactly." Rekka nodded solemnly. "My respect for my seniors comes straight from the heart. Senior March, you're the first person I've ever called 'senior'. Can the weight of that even be compared?"
March 7th once again lost herself in the repeated, flattering calls of 'senior', a proud smile blooming on her face.
"See? Rekka respects me from the bottom of his heart. Do you understand? Where is the applause?"
"I get it, I get it," Stelle nodded perfunctorily, not clapping at all. She then turned her golden eyes to Rekka. "What about me? When are you going to respect me from the bottom of your heart?"
"You?" Rekka looked her up and down, his expression deadpan. "Your position in my heart is very specific."
Stelle looked at him expectantly.
"Fox friends and dog pals. You're the rogue fox friend, and I'm the scoundrel dog pal."
"Both are canines, so you're quite the match." March 7th crossed her arms, nodding in agreement.
Silver Wolf stared at the three of them in absolute silence.
"Staying hidden in a pile of shipping containers isn't a long-term solution." Silver Wolf finally spoke, popping a bubblegum bubble. "What's our next step?"
"Next step..." Rekka pondered for a moment, then raised a single finger. "Silver Wolf, is there anything else in the script? Any hints?"
"Improvise."
"Then I'm really going to improvise."
At the absolute highest point of the Ambrosial Arbor, Rekka set up a simple, comfortable rest platform and casually flicked on the stealth mode. The massive, ancient branches of the tree provided perfect cover, the leaves rustling gently in the high-altitude wind.
"So your grand idea of improvising is taking us to squat on top of the Ambrosial Arbor?" Stelle asked, looking around the makeshift camp.
"Don't you understand the tactical concept of a treetop sniper?" Rekka replied, settling into a chair. "Low risk, high reward. The bridge campers have arrived."
"You don't even have a sniper rifle."
"Lend me your bow." Rekka held his hand out toward March.
Before March could even summon her weapon, a brilliant purple arrow of pure light shot down from the sky behind them, landing perfectly into Rekka's waiting palm.
Rekka gripped the glowing purple arrow, acting incredibly cool.
An arrow shot in the past had arrived precisely in the hands of his future self.
The truth was, Rekka had spent several system hours standing on the roof of the Astral Express a few days ago, doing nothing but firing arrows into the void. A hundred thousand light arrows were still traveling through space and time even now.
The most serious man on the Express, the mysterious arrow-firing man, Rekka. He had seriously fired an arrow.
"Isn't this much better than a clunky sniper rifle?" Rekka smirked, twirling the glowing projectile.
"This thing... was really shot by you a few days ago?" March asked, staring at the arrow in disbelief.
"Yeah, I shot it while I was on the Path of The Hunt," Rekka nodded. "A hundred thousand of them, distributed across various points in time. Whenever I want to use one, I just reach out and grab it."
"What if you run out?"
"If I run out, I'll just shoot more," Rekka replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. "Light arrows don't expire. Look, the view up here is great, the concealment is incredibly strong, and we can observe all the movements down below at any time. We sit here, enjoy the breeze, and drink sodas."
Stelle squatted at the very edge of the platform, leaning half her body over the dizzying drop to look down at the Luofu below.
"Villains usually plot their evil schemes in dark, damp basements or give dramatic orders from the bridges of massive warships. You, on the other hand, come to the top of a giant tree to eat sunflower seeds. Anyone who didn't know better would think we're just here for a picnic."
"From this treetop, we can easily find the person who stuffed that anti-matter bomb onto us." Rekka said, his eyes scanning the distant streets. "That woman is very suspicious. We have to find her, and then..."
"Rob her blind!" Stelle interjected, her eyes flashing with chaotic greed.
"What do you mean rob her blind? We aren't bandits." Rekka sighed. "Just catch her and toss her straight to the Realm-Keeping Commission."
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