On Dead Omen Star, the darkness was a living thing, a cold, suffocating shroud that clung to the jagged walls of the rock caves where the Federation team sought refuge. The temperature plummeted, the air brittle with frost, as the storm's relentless howl reverberated through the stone, a cacophony punctuated by the occasional, bone-chilling shrieks of Red-Feather Sparrows. Zhou Ying, encased in his mech, crouched sideways in a narrow crevice, his body pressed against the unyielding rock. The storm's din, amplified by the cave's confines, drowned out all but the most piercing sounds, yet the Sparrows' cries cut through, a reminder of the peril lurking beyond.
Most of the Federation students had retreated deeper into the caves, where narrow entrances offered defensible positions, even against the airborne Sparrows. Following their instructors' pre-mission directives, they activated their mechs' thermal cloaking, rendering themselves invisible to the bugs' heat-sensitive senses—at least for now. But for Zhou Ying and others like him, the elite fighters tasked with covering the team's retreat, the deeper sanctuaries were already full. They were forced to huddle in exposed crevices, vulnerable to the storm and the predators it concealed.
The outer positions were perilous, a fact not lost on the team. Several students had offered to trade places with Zhou Ying and Zhou Wei, hoping to shield the team's strongest assets. But the Sparrows' relentless patrols pinned them in place, their movements too risky, their voices silenced to avoid detection. Death loomed like a gray specter, its presence palpable in the bloodied wreckage of fallen comrades, their screams echoing in memory. The team's courage had been ground down by loss, their rationality a fragile thread holding them together.
Yet a flicker of hope emerged: the Sparrows' numbers were thinning. The distant booms of starship cannons and the fading shrieks suggested the rescue fleet was drawing the swarm's attention. Zhou Ying steadied his breathing, his perch precarious—a cramped ledge inches from a sheer drop. One misstep could send him plummeting into the abyss. The situation was stabilizing, he told himself. Endure, and salvation would come. Seizing a moment of respite, he fired off a text message to Janice, two meters away, his tone laced with irritation: "Are you done? Why are you glued to me? Can't you see it's cramped here?"
Janice's reply flashed back instantly: "I'm protecting you, providing flank cover to prevent an attack."
Zhou Ying's jaw tightened. "You nearly shoved me off the cliff!"
"That was an accident," Janice countered. "The battle's intensity destabilized the rockface. I acted the moment I detected the anomaly. My actions and their outcome were without error."
The incident replayed in Zhou Ying's mind. He'd been fending off a Sparrow, racing toward a cave, when the creature locked onto him. As he maneuvered down a slope, Janice, soaring above, obliterated the bug with a heat rifle. Its carcass slammed into the cliff, triggering a cascade of shattered stone. As Zhou Ying fell, Janice ignited her mech's thrusters, snatching him mid-air and hurling him into the crevice with brutal precision. His fingers still trembled, the specter of death too close. "If not for you, there'd be no accident. You're so eager to kill bugs—go hunt some Sparrows outside."
"I refuse," Janice replied, her mech's shield glowing faintly in the dark. "Ensuring your and Mr. Zhou Wei's safety is my highest priority, superseding even the Federation's victory. I will ensure you both return to the starship alive, at any cost."
Zhou Ying nearly scoffed. "Then why not pester my brother?"
"By general reasoning, you require more protection than Zhou Wei."
Were the circumstances different, Zhou Ying would have challenged her then and there. He saw now that Janice, post-"refit," was a different entity—stronger, her systems flawless, her logic airtight. But that perfection made her colder, more mechanical, infuriatingly rigid. The old Janice, though arrogant and aloof, had been human, driven by pride and obsession. Now, no matter how Zhou Ying taunted or sneered, she remained unmoved, her focus singular: the mission.
He recalled a conversation with Ning Hongxue, after Bai Sha's coronation, when Janice was still "under repair." Ning had asked, "Do you and Janice truly not get along?" Zhou Ying, wary of Ning's motives, had answered carefully but honestly: "People need time to mesh, but no one syncs with her." As a mech engineer, he'd added, "Even new machines need breaking in to fit perfectly. But if the parts don't match, forcing them together only causes damage."
His words had been a veiled critique, not just of Janice but of Ning's overbearing methods. Compatibility couldn't be coerced; insistence bred enmity. Yet Ning had taken it further, transforming Janice into a weapon, stripping away her humanity. The new Janice was undeniably superior—a flawless soldier, a precise aide, a calculating strategist. Zhou Ying's orders were executed impeccably, yet her stubbornness made him itch to shut her system down. Ning had even given him that power, a metaphorical kill switch. But Zhou Ying refrained, held back by pity and empathy. He'd witnessed her growth—and the erasure of her lingering humanity.
He suspected the refit's deeper purpose. Then he saw it: a silver-winged "Angel" descending through the storm, a mythic vision against the blackened sky. The Sparrows, which had driven them to cower, were powerless before this radiant figure. Zhou Ying knew instantly—this was no human. The Angel's hair, untouched by fire and chaos, confirmed it: a bioengineered being, a relic of the Silver Era.
Janice's transformation clicked into place. The Federation's military was chasing the Angels' legacy, crafting living weapons. As a Zhou heir, Zhou Ying had heard whispers of the Angels—Silver Era creations, bioengineered yet sentient, their minds mirroring humans'. Unlike the Silver Core, an AI barred from emotions to prevent rebellion, Angels were enigmatic. Some scholars speculated they were humans transmuted, their souls encased in immortal shells. The notion dizzied Zhou Ying. If the Angels were the military's goal, Janice's refit was a crude imitation, a shortcut sacrificing her essence for power.
The Federation, facing an insurmountable technological chasm, had chosen expediency, reaping gains at a cost. Zhou Ying's thoughts churned, his unease mounting, as the rescue fleet arrived. Starships loomed, their gas munitions cloaking the peaks in pink haze—the Rose's toxins, now a weapon. The Sparrows faltered, their swarm dissipating.
Some students, caught in the gas, suffered hallucinations. One, disoriented, mistook his comrades' heads for watermelons, chasing them with a blade, convinced he roamed a moonlit field. A medic's antidote restored him, revealing the gas's origin: the Creeping Rose. Ya Ning, his arm injured, chuckled despite the pain. "Poison against poison? Clever. Whose idea?"
Zhou Ying, Zhou Wei, Ya Ning, and Yan Jingyi sat together, battered but alive. Ya Ning's wound was severe, but treatment pods were scarce. Zhou Wei, drained by mental overexertion, winced under a headache. Zhou Ying administered a relaxant and pressed an ice pack to his brother's forehead. "Hold it."
"The gas bombs were smart," Yan Jingyi said, frowning. "But that… creature? Empire folks have spirit forms, but wings? Never seen that."
Zhou Ying began, "He's—" but paused, overhearing the fleet's chatter.
The starship's captain, a tall woman with cropped brown hair and a booming voice, was mid-conversation. "What? The Empire just wants the Queen's corpse? They know its value… Without their Crown Heir, no 'Angel' would've shown up. Overkill for a bug, but the corpse's condition—pristine, vital parts intact—is priceless."
"No point arguing," she continued. "They helped us. The Federation's not that petty."
Passing Zhou Ying's group, she paused, saluting briefly. They stood, returning the gesture. Her gaze lingered on the Zhou brothers, a knowing glint in her eye. "You're famous, in every sense. But I'm not praising you for your connections. You've done well, especially here. Your rearguard saved lives."
A ruthless commander might have sacrificed weaker students to the bugs, preserving elites. Both choices had merit in a crisis, but the captain clearly admired Zhou Ying's approach. "The rescue went smoothly—lucky, given our plan involved heavier bombardment and more gas exposure. The Empire's Heir wanted that Queen, and their 'Angel' was on hand. Fortunate coincidence."