“Uh… Logan?”
Hearing the shout from outside the door, Fang Mo looked a bit surprised.
“What was that explosion just now?”
Logan’s voice ca again from the other side. “Open the door already—you’re definitely up to so weird stuff behind our backs again, aren’t you?”
“…”
Fang Mo glanced around his room.
Mǎyù Líng lounged on the sofa, watching the fun. Laevatein sat on the floor, looking dazed. The little girl with the straight-across “waterlon” haircut floated in midair, while odd noises echoed from the bathroom. Plus, there were a bunch of weapons behind him waiting to be dealt with. Given Logan’s personality, there was no good way to explain any of this.
“No, nothing.”
Fang Mo stalled, trying to sound vague. “I just accidentally tripped and fell. Didn’t control my strength, so I left a small hole in the floor. I’ll just patch it up with a couple of cobblestones in a bit, no need to worry.”
“Yeah, right.”
Logan, outside, wasn’t buying it. “Everyone’s exhausted today. Could you let us have one peaceful night’s sleep?”
“Then just go to sleep, dammit,”
Fang Mo called through the door.
“You caused such a racket, how the hell can we sleep!?”
Logan roared back. “I’ll give you ten seconds… or I’m kicking this door down!”
“You’re a damn lunatic!”
Fang Mo couldn’t help shouting in return. But then he looked back at the pack of weapons behind him. He absolutely hated being forced to stop mid-process. He’d only half-transford them, and being interrupted now was worse than being stabbed. So he gritted his teeth.
“Screw it…”
He suddenly growled, sweeping a hand over all his weapons. “All of you, transform!!!”
Instantly, dazzling white light flooded the room. Fang Mo ignored it and quickly sank his mind into the White Dinsion. He yanked out two big sacks of various clothing and tossed them at the sword-girls standing before him. “He’s counting down! Hurry up and get equipped!”
“Three! Two! One!”
Logan’s countdown ended monts later. As he lifted his foot, the door gave a “click” and opened from the inside.
“…Huh?”
Logan was briefly startled. Fang Mo’s head popped out from behind the door.
“You cause more fuss than anyone in Xavier’s,”
Fang Mo said impatiently, swinging the door fully open. “Co on in, see for yourself.”
“You think I want to deal with your crap?”
Logan stepped over the threshold, still grumbling, “If Charles and the others weren’t too scared to—”
But mid-sentence, Logan froze. Inside Fang Mo’s living room stood eight young won, all drastically different in appearance. The mont Logan entered, they simultaneously looked up at him.
“Er…”
Truth be told, Logan was utterly thrown. Among them, the cat-eared high school girl on the sofa he recognized as Fang Mo’s purple greatsword from earlier. But the others?
A redheaded girl sat on the floor, horns like polished black spikes protruding from her head, wearing a low-cut black dress. She held so kind of black leather buckle in her hand, apparently about to strap it around her leg.
Nearby stood a tiny child who looked about kindergarten age, hair in a gray “waterlon” cut that hid her eyes. She wore a thick, gray-white denim outfit with pockets so large her hands could stay stuffed inside. Though just a kid, she had no expression at all—cold and indifferent.
Then, by the floor-length window, a figure who looked like… a nun?
She had soft, pale-orange hair, dressed in what looked like a nun’s habit. A sheer veil over her head protruded in two spots, almost like cat ears. Her turquoise eyes shone with a luminous radiance, and an almost gentle, comforting smile graced her face.
“…”
Logan woodenly glanced around. The four girls above looked sowhat “normal.” But aside from them, Logan spotted girls perched on the old TV set, in the corner behind the TV stand, near the big fish tank… basically everywhere.
One of them, crouched on top of the television, had short black hair and a pair of tall, black cat ears. Her face was lovely but cold, with a slender black ribbon around her pale neck, wearing a Japanese-style sailor uniform. Two tails behind her swished gently.
Another, with shimring rainbow-colored hair, crouched behind the TV stand’s potted plant, chewing on sothing. Her starry eyes sized Logan up curiously.
Finally, at the edge of the fish tank sat a delicate-looking girl with a gentle temperant, palms on her knees and both white legs dipped in the water, giving off a sisterly aura. Except… ignoring the details. Her golden irises had not-quite-human pupils, closer to goats or octopuses. A small pair of bat-like wings peeked from her back. Her hair was extrely long, dark-blue, trailing onto the floor—and if you looked carefully, you’d see that from about halfway down, those “hairs” turned into living tissue. They seed to be dozens of slippery tentacles, half hidden, each with little suction cups wiggling on their undersides.
“…”
Standing there, Logan had no words. His silence grew deafening.
“What, gone mute?”
Fang Mo patted him on the shoulder. “Didn’t you want a look? Why so speechless?”
“You…”
Logan pressed a hand to his forehead. “So these are all your weapons, right?”
“Yep,”
Fang Mo nodded, then tugged soone from behind him. “C’mon, don’t just hide there. Say hi to Logan.”
From behind Fang Mo stepped a shy girl.
“?”
Logan reflexively looked at her. A sowhat timid, pink-haired beauty in a floor-length style. She was stunning—like a painting or a dream. Her eyes glead with starlight. If you stared closely, it was as though the cosmos was reflected in them. Her eyelashes trembled, and swirling galaxies seed to flow across her gaze. She wore a slender white cape edged in gold, matched with an ornate white pleated princess dress, her legs clad in white tights and black shoes, exuding a regal aura.
Moreover, a small pair of snow-white wings peeked around her waist area, adorned with little cartoon star and planet charms. On her head hovered sothing…like a halo?
It looked like a slowly rotating galaxy, or perhaps a reticle or crown. Within it, rainbow-like lights flickered, reminiscent of Asgard’s Bifrost but on an entirely different scale. It was as though countless star clusters interwove into that cosmic circle—astonishingly lovely and dreamlike, reflecting the myriad lights of creation.
“Mr. Logan… hello…”
While he was taking this in, the pink-haired girl spoke softly in a tense voice, “I—I’m the master’s bow…”
“A bow?”
Logan was briefly startled. He didn’t recall seeing Fang Mo use a bow.
“The Longbow of the Heavens,”
a small, childish voice interjected from behind the potted plant. The rainbow-haired girl erged, chewing sothing. “Sis, be more confident; no need to be nervous.”
“B-but…”
The “bow girl” was still anxious. After a mont, she just turned and hid behind Fang Mo, hugging his arm.
“What’s up with our leader going all shy?
Mǎyù Líng sighed around her doughnut. “Leader, you need to perk up!”
“Indeed,”
the red-haired girl on the floor chid in. “Didn’t we see the boss fight Saitama? You weren’t this flustered then.”
“Alright, leave her alone,”
Fang Mo rolled his eyes, ruffling the pink-haired girl’s head.
“Who’s Saitama?”
Logan couldn’t help asking. “So other world’s character?”
“A monster who can blow up Jupiter with one punch,”
Fang Mo casually explained. “We had a spar once—was a tough fight. We ended up smashing who knows how many planets. If you’re interested, I can let you watch next ti.”
“I beg you not to involve ,”
Logan said quickly.
“Hey, Wolf-Bro, you should at least pretend to be interested,”
Mǎyù Líng teased. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Seeing two top-tier fighters is worth dying for!’”
“Correction,”
the black-haired catgirl perched atop the TV said coolly, “You forgot to add ‘ribbit.’”
“Shut up, I don’t need your reminder!”
Mǎyù Líng barked.
“I…”
Logan felt his head throbbing at this “demon dance.” He turned back to Fang Mo. “Honestly, how do you sleep at night with all this?”
“Who said I’d sleep?”
Fang Mo looked at Logan as if he were the strange one. “I was going to do so routine maintenance on them. But you insisted on barging in, spoiling my fun…”
“Could you just act like a normal person?”
Logan massaged his forehead. “How can you do…that kind of thing with your weapons!?”
“They love too deeply.”
Fang Mo spread his hands. “Weapons are ant to be used, right? Even if I use them another way, that still counts as fulfilling their purpose.”
“…”
Logan was at a loss, so he turned to the crowd of girls. “Seriously, you’re all just going along with him? If you’re unwilling, tell —I’ll stop him.”
“Wolf-Bro, do it!
Mǎyù Líng seized the chance, bouncing up. “You gotta talk so sense into him. He’s had bad intentions from the start. I treat him like a friend, and he—”
But mid-rant, the little girl with the waterlon haircut drifted over, “thwack,” and grabbed Fang Mo’s sleeve.
“I want it!”
She said in a dull monotone, her face emotionless.
“Eh?”
Mǎyù Líng was taken aback.
“I like the Master best,”
the fish-tank girl declared. She hopped off, producing watery footprints, her hair-turned-tentacles wrapping around Fang Mo’s waist intimately.
“ too!”
The rainbow-haired girl cried out, “I love the Boss!”
“And as well…”
the pink-haired “bow” muttered, cheeks flushed. “Master is…my entire reason for being.”
“Huh—wha?”
Mǎyù Líng gaped at them in disbelief. “You all—”
“Count in!”
shouted the redhead from the floor, scrambling upright and yanking Fang Mo’s collar. “I suggest you stay out of it, Wolf-Bro!”
“Laevatein, even you!?”
Mǎyù Líng was utterly shocked.
“Then I’ll take this spot.”
The black-haired catgirl perched on the TV hopped down and leaned her back snugly against Fang Mo’s chest. “Okay, now we’re full up.”
She cast a challenging glance at Mǎyù Líng.
“No! That’s not right!”
Finally grasping the situation, Mǎyù Líng jumped off the sofa, flustered. “He—he’s mine, you unscrupulous sword hussies! Don’t you dare steal my Master!”
“I’m afraid it’s all taken.”
the short-haired catgirl said coldly. “You can kneel at Master’s feet, though—he might let a losing dog stay there.”
“You creeping scythe!”
Mǎyù Líng snapped, “You’re not even used for actual combat! You should kneel and lick the Boss’s shoes! Now get lost!”
“Excuse , but I happen to be a noble healing weapon,”
the black cat-eared scythe retorted coolly. “You, however… a worthless piece of FW steel. Recognize your station, FW Blade.”
“You, you—!?”
Mǎyù Líng was fuming, expression contorting. Then suddenly she rembered Logan. She spun and cried out: “Logan… help !!!”
“I…”
Logan felt utterly speechless.
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