Chapter 43 - Level 141
The late afternoon sunlight bathed the campus in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the cobblestone pathways. I stood in front of the girls’ dormitory, still in my crisp school uniform, the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingering in the air. The sky, painted with streaks of orange and pink, signaled the day’s slow descent into evening. I glanced at my phone—5:30 PM. The ti felt both early and late, a strange tension buzzing in the air.
My eyes flicked to Myrrh’s ssages again, their cheery tone contrasting with the quiet stillness around :
Myrrh: Hey, are you free tonight? Let’s have a dinner date! My treat!
Myrrh: And also, my mother wants to see you. Let’s et in front of my dormitory, at 5:30 PM!
That was two hours ago. I scrolled idly through my other ssages, half-listening to the rustling of leaves in the gentle evening breeze, trying to pass the ti. Yet, an uncanny sensation crept over —like eyes boring into the back of my head.
Before I could turn, darkness swept over my vision. A soft touch—delicate and warm—covered my eyes, and sothing even softer pressed against my back, one pressure to my left, another to my right. My mind scrambled for context.
“Guess who!” a familiar voice teased, carrying that playful lilt I knew all too well.
I smirked, a mischievous edge creeping into my tone. “Could it be the dumb blonde bimbo everyone keeps gossiping about?”
“Ugh, fuck you, Zaft!” Myrrh huffed, shoving my head away as she let go.
My vision cleared, and there she was—pouting like a child denied her favorite treat. Her li-green hair, tied back with black ribbons, shimred under the waning sunlight, and her flushed cheeks only made her more endearing.
“After everything we’ve been through,” she grumbled, crossing her arms with mock indignation, “you really hate that much, huh?”
“Just kidding.” I scoffed, a smirk tugging at my lips as I reached out to pat Myrrh’s head.
As always, she leaned into the gesture like a contented cat. But just as quickly, she swatted my hand away, her expression twisting into mock irritation. “You’re ruining my hair,” she grumbled, adjusting the ribbon that kept her ponytail in place.
“Alright, alright.” I raised my hands in surrender, my grin widening. “So, what’s the plan? This’ll be our second date, huh?”
“That’s right!” Myrrh’s face lit up with excitent, her earlier pout disappearing in an instant. “I hope it’s okay that it’s just a dinner date, though. My wallet’s… uh… going through so tough tis right now.” She gave a sheepish laugh, scratching her cheek.
“What's new? You're always in debt.” I nodded, though a twinge of unease crept into my tone. “Still… I can’t help but feel a little nervous. Every ti we go on a ‘date,’ sothing weird always happens.”
Myrrh blinked, her expression shifting to a deadpan stare. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted flatly. “The first date ended with the Xyraxis Blackout incident. Then there was our ‘eting’ with that terrorist hacker. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the apocalypse decides to drop by tonight.”
I forced a laugh, trying to mask the growing knot in my stomach. “M-maybe we should just… stay in? You know, avoid tempting fate or whatever. I’m starting to think you might be carrying so sort of curse.”
“Wow, rude!” Myrrh puffed out her cheeks, her glare more playful than angry. “For your information, I’ve been on plenty of dates with Ephraim before, and all of them went perfectly fine. Except when I’m with you, apparently.”
Her jab stung just enough to make wince, but the glimr of mischief in her eyes told she wasn’t entirely serious.
“So, I’m the one with the bad luck, huh?” I muttered, half-joking. But the weight of my own words sank in like a stone in my chest. My thoughts drifted to the pact I’d made with the Machine God—the one that bound to a destiny I barely understood. Was this part of the curse? Were these strange, chaotic dates with Myrrh just the beginning of so larger tragedy?
“Cheer up, dummy.” Myrrh’s voice snapped out of my spiraling thoughts. She slapped my arm lightly, the warmth of her touch grounding . “If you’re that worried, we can just grab so takeout and have our ‘date’ in the hospital. My mom can be our chaperone. Though… now that I think about it, maybe I’d be the chaperone, considering my mom kind of has a thing for you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”
Myrrh smirked, her li-green ponytail swaying as she turned to face . “Oh, don’t act so surprised. She’s been practically singing your praises since the last ti she saw you.”
I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, trying to shift the conversation. “Right… Speaking of your mom, what does Miss Alicent want to talk to about, anyway?”
“Beats .” Myrrh shrugged nonchalantly, her frilly dress fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. “Guess we’ll find out when we get there.”
Haunted by the lingering fear of our so-called cursed dates, we played it safe. Myrrh and I settled on takeout—her favorite pizza, along with a soft, spongy cake roll and a couple of fizzy drinks. The plan was simple: have dinner at the hospital, where her mother’s presence might ward off any more unexpected disasters. Emphasis on the word "might".
By the ti we arrived, the city lights had claid the sky, stars faintly flickering behind a veil of urban haze. Inside the hospital, the air was sterile but carried a subtle hum of activity in the background. We were greeted by Mirana Alicent’s warm smile, though I couldn’t help but notice the faint lines of fatigue around her eyes. Despite her best efforts to appear cheerful, there was a fragility in her deanor—a silent testant to her condition.
“Good evening, Mother,” Myrrh said in a singsong tone, holding up the takeout bag triumphantly. “I brought so food!”
I followed suit, bowing politely to the woman who had once been my childhood heroine. “G-good evening, Miss Alicent.”
“Oh, welco ho, Myrrh,” she replied, her voice soft but tinged with warmth. Her gaze shifted to , and a playful glint appeared in her tired eyes. “And I see you’ve brought your boyfriend along.”
“Jeez, Mother, stop teasing us already!” Myrrh groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she set the food on the small table by the hospital bed. “He’s way below my standards.” Without missing a beat, she opened the pizza box, grabbed the first slice, and took a hearty bite, as if to emphasize her point.
I chuckled awkwardly, forcing a polite smile as the teasing washed over . Miss Alicent had always been fond of shipping us, no matter how many tis I denied it. It was harmless, I told myself. There wasn’t even a fraction of a chance that Myrrh and I could be anything more than what we were. Zero percent. Our dates were purely contractual, and any notion of romance was completely off the table.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Still, sothing about the way she brushed off—way below her standards—hit differently this ti. Myrrh had said it a hundred tis before, always with that sa teasing air, but tonight it stung. A tiny, sharp pang in my chest, like an ant bite I couldn’t quite ignore.
I shook the feeling off quickly, focusing instead on unpacking the food. This wasn’t the ti to let my thoughts wander. Tonight was about being here for her mother, not deciphering the sudden flutter of sothing I couldn’t na.
“So, Zaft.” Mirana Alicent’s voice cut through the comfortable hum of our makeshift dinner. Her smile remained, but her sharp gaze pinned in place, brimming with an authority that demanded attention. “I’ve heard from Myrrh that you reached the Top 4 in the written exams for the licensure tournant. Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Miss Alicent.” I quickly bowed, feeling the heat rise to my face. My heart skipped a beat—Miss Mirana Alicent is praising ! The sa Mirana Alicent who had been my childhood idol! My inner thoughts were doing cartwheels. Keep it going, Miss Mirana Alicent! You’re my fuel for life!
But just as quickly as her praise ca, the atmosphere shifted. Her expression darkened, the warmth draining from her features. She straightened in her chair, her voice turning grave. “But this is only the beginning,” she said.
I swallowed hard, my earlier excitent evaporating.
“In the licensure examination tournant,” she continued, her tone steady and unyielding, “you’ll be facing seniors from across the board, up to the third years. These opponents will have significant advantages—combat experience, technical intelligence, and far superior support units. Most of their units are likely above Level 25.”
Her words hung heavily in the air, pressing down on like a physical weight. I glanced over at Myrrh, hoping for so kind of reassurance. She had stopped mid-bite, her half-eaten pizza slice hovering in her hand. Her usual playful deanor was gone, replaced by an intense, almost defiant glare aid directly at her mother.
“Mother, are you…” Myrrh began, her voice low and edged with sothing between concern and irritation.
Mirana Alicent nodded, her expression softening, but her voice remained firm. “It’s only natural for a mother to help her daughter and her… boyfriend.” She smirked lightly at the word, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “So, I’ll teach you techniques that even fourth-years and professionals struggle to master.”
Without waiting for a response, she pulled out a worn smartwatch, its casing scratched but clearly still functional. She pressed a button, and with a faint hum, a holographic screen burst to life in the dim hospital room.
I froze, my breath hitching as I read the glowing text:
[Weaponry Enhancent Engineering Bios]
[Clearance Level: 141]
[No Support Unit Detected – System Deactivated]
The screen’s main display featured a staggering list of weapons—every single one ever designed for WAIFUs, all 141 of them, their nas scrolling like the credit roll at the end of a blockbuster film. My eyes darted over the intricate details, but each weapon’s na was highlighted in an ominous red, a glaring reminder that the system couldn’t activate without a support unit linked.
“W-wow,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. “That’s… a lot of weapons.”
Mirana Alicent’s gaze didn’t waver. “This device belonged to my partner… before he passed away.”
Her words landed like a stone in the quiet room. Myrrh’s eyebrows twitched, her jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. The silence stretched uncomfortably, thick with unspoken mories.
I glanced back at Mirana, and her piercing gaze t mine. It was as if she were peeling back the layers of my mind, searching for sothing deeper than my reaction to her words.
“The higher years have the advantage,” she continued, her voice steady but laced with a quiet determination. “Their weapons and transformation modes are advanced, but those aren’t the only things that make a support unit valuable. I’ll teach you the techniques my partner and I developed. Techniques we perfected over a hundred battles against Cosmic Beasts… and even WAIFUs.”
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