Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

Xia gazed at the colony satellite floating in the void and murmured to himself.

"Guide me, Lala..."

Five minutes later, Char suddenly received some bad news: Aina Sakhalin, who had been on an infiltration mission and was piloting a Zaku into the colony, was suddenly run into by a metal ball.

Despite her decent piloting skills, Aina was suddenly hit by a metal ball and crashed her plane. It seemed that the other pilot had even entered Aina's cockpit, and the two of them headed into the depths of space.

Upon hearing this news, Xia pressed his temples—for some reason, he always felt a suffocating sensation, as if an unseen fate was gripping his throat.

Meanwhile, inside the SIDE7 colony, a naive young man, after sneaking around and looking around furtively, arrived at a hidden warehouse.

"Mr. Hathaway, I've arrived!"

Upon entering the factory, a huge Zaku comes into view, but it seems to have undergone some modifications, making its appearance quite different from Zeon's mass-produced models.

A young, curly-haired boy waved happily at the top of the Zaku, and soon a mature and composed young man poked his head out from the driver's seat.

“Ah, it’s Amuro,” Hasawi Noah said.

"Want to try MS again?"

Young Amuro nodded with delight. He had only met the older brother in front of him recently, but for some reason, Amuro felt an instant connection with him...

In short, it's like a creature that has been lonely for a long time suddenly encountering its own kind. For Amuro, Hasavi was just such a kindred spirit he suddenly met.

In short, they were a pair of new types, two new humans, with a pair of eyes, and they fell in love!

"Come on up, I've finished my debugging, you can practice a bit too."

Hassawi generously made way for him, and Amuro eagerly squeezed in to start fiddling with the enormous steel giant.

Seeing Amro's obvious joy, Hasavi's lips twitched slightly, then he suddenly became serious.

"Death won't come knocking on your door when you're ready, Amuro!"

Amuro: Huh?

"Lord Gihren, this technology will surely help Zeon achieve an undeniable and absolute victory!"

In Zeon, in the city of Zum, Kruze, having acquired yet another mask, bowed respectfully before Kirian Zabi, presenting him with a technical demonstration.

"Good! Very good! You're a talent, Kruze. I'll transfer you to the research department to oversee the 'Genesis' construction project!"

Kilian waved his hand generously and said with great praise.

Because of the mass elimination of the population cups in Zum City, Gihren's intelligence department was also paralyzed. Not to mention that Kycilia was also dead, and his intelligence department was completely destroyed. Therefore, Gihren was unable to investigate this soldier who claimed to be from the tactical research department too deeply.

But it didn't matter to Gihren—because the technology called 'Genesis' presented by Kruze was exactly to Gihren's liking!

The gamma-ray laser cannon, which uses concentrated gamma rays generated by nuclear fission to fire, was originally intended to propel interstellar spacecraft equipped with solar sails. However, after being modified by Kruse, it became a super weapon that can directly strike Earth from Side 3.

Gihren doesn't care about anything else; all he cares about is that this superweapon can help him achieve his goal of making Zeon invincible!

Once it's built, the world will be under Gihren's control!

As for the treaty banning the use of superweapons? When have I, Killian, ever been someone who respects treaties?

"Zick zion, Lord Kilian."

Kruse bowed slightly, a strange and pleased smile on his face.

Meanwhile, Tsugumi returned to his loyal Side 2.

Sirocco's farming efforts have yielded remarkable results. With unconditional assistance from the Moon, Sirocco boldly declared that he could make Side 2 a third power independent of the Federation and Zeon within a year!

Oh no, it's not called SIDE2 anymore; they're now in the early stages of the Galactic Empire!

Dongjiang was quite satisfied. He was a very sensible leader who would never meddle in things he didn't understand. So, after leaving these matters to Sirocco, he told him he would be back in a while and then sailed away on his Great Emperor.

They also took away more than two hundred androids from inside.

Tsurugi decided to go out and explore other worlds first. After all, it would probably take another year or so here, and Tsurugi wasn't interested in waiting that long. So she planned to take a trip to other worlds before coming back.

Since the beacon has already been planted, he plans to go to other worlds to unlock his fourth character card.

Matching, begin!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

P.S.: Tomorrow and the day after, I'll be working on the Black Bullet arc at Lightspeed, and then start the Type-Moon Roman arc—the Gundam part did feel a bit abrupt, sigh. I'll try to keep it shorter in the future.

Changing styles doesn't stop the killing! : 143. [Black Bullet] Sounding the horn at the start!

Ding-a-ling~~~

"Thank you so much... Thank you..."

The sound of metal clanging against the bottom of the bowl was fragile and strained; the white-haired girl holding the sign spoke with a slight tremor in her voice.

In front of the bustling station, she stood there like a withered tree branch. Her thin, tattered blouse had long been washed and faded, patched upon patched, barely concealing her bony frame. Her exposed arms were so thin they looked as if they would break at the slightest touch.

Strands of dry, white hair clung starkly to her sallow cheeks, a testament to the premature graying caused by hardship. But what was most heartbreaking were her eyes.

To be precise, there are no eyes there.

The eyes, covered by cloth, turned a deathly gray when uncovered. This was because the mother had regarded the scarlet pupils at birth as a mark of the devil, and had them forever robbed of their sight in excruciating pain by the hot metal.

She clutched a worn-out begging sign tightly in her arms, her fingertips pale from the pressure. The metal bowl in front of her was rusty and occasionally swayed gently in the wind, making a soft, mournful sound.

This should have been the most touching and compassionate scene, after all, the last bit of kindness in people's hearts should be shown in front of such a weak and helpless child.

But the reality here is quite the opposite.

Clang—

There was another clanging sound, louder than before. Following the sound, the girl bowed her head again and thanked her, "Thank you..."

Passersby hiding not far away covered their mouths and snickered. They took pleasure in bullying a blind begging girl and extracted a twisted sense of superiority from her humble thanks, as if this could fill the barrenness and mediocrity of their own lives.

The girl actually knew everything. The pull tab felt different from a coin, and although she didn't recognize what a pull tab was at all, she knew it was something that couldn't be exchanged for food.

Even the faintest sneers from passersby could reach her sensitive ears. But she had long been used to it, used to the malice of the world overwhelming her like a tide, used to the unreasonable hatred and contempt etched into her very bones.

Just because she is the child of the curse, an existence despised by the entire world, her red pupils were once proof of her original sin, and now that she has no eyes left, this hatred has not diminished in the slightest.

Being oppressed, despised, beaten, and humiliated had long been the norm in her life. She even remembered the ferocity of her mother grabbing her and pouring scalding hot molten lead into her eyes, the dull pain of stones thrown at her, and the hunger and fear of countless cold nights spent huddled in a corner.

But she couldn't die; she had a young sister to raise. So she couldn't die either; the presence of gastrulator cells in her body ensured her tenacious vitality.

But today's malice seems more intense than usual.

"Who the hell gave you permission to beg here!"

A clearly drunken voice suddenly rang out, and the man who walked over was a slurred, red-nosed policeman. He kicked over a broken bowl in front of the girl. This profession, without a doubt, is meant to protect the people, especially vulnerable girls like this.

But at this moment, they were using the most vicious tone to vent their malice on a defenseless blind girl.

This world is so absurd that cursed children are not protected by law, and no one bears any responsibility for beating, insulting, or even killing them.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave right away..." The girl didn't dare to resist, and lowered her head humbly, almost touching her chest. She groped to pick up the bowl on the ground, and just as her fingers touched the cold metal edge, a heavy leather shoe kicked her hard, sending the bowl flying far away.

With a crash, the bowl rolled several times on the ground, and the pull ring came loose, making a piercing sound.

The policeman in front of her seemed to have found a perfect toy, a happy smile on his face. He wore a crisp police uniform, but there was not a trace of righteous indignation in him; his eyes were filled with long-suppressed violence and lewdness.

He's nothing more than a dog who lives like a groveling dog in everyday life, finding a pitiful sense of superiority and pleasure only when he bullies those weaker than himself.

The girl's body stiffened abruptly, her thin shoulders trembling uncontrollably. She knew all too well what was to come: being beaten, verbally abused, or even worse—anything that would cause her pain could happen in the next few minutes.

"Why aren't you moving?" The policeman's insults grew increasingly shrill. "Damn monster! You can't understand what I'm saying, can you?!"

Before he could finish speaking, he grabbed the girl's dry, white hair and slammed her heavily onto the cold concrete floor like a piece of trash. The girl let out a suppressed cry of pain as her forehead hit the ground, instantly drawing blood that mixed with the dust on her face, making her look extremely disheveled.

But the policeman showed no sign of stopping. He raised his foot and kicked the girl’s emaciated abdomen and thin back repeatedly, each kick delivered with full force, as if venting all his dissatisfaction and violence, or perhaps enjoying the pleasure of this violence.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The girl curled up like a wounded animal, clutching her head tightly with both hands and protecting her vulnerable abdomen beneath her. Her voice was choked with sobs as she repeated her apologies over and over again.

Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, she knew perfectly well that in the face of absolute malice, explanations were pointless; only endless humility and submission could offer a glimmer of hope.

This time, however, her pleas did not elicit pity. Instead, they fueled the policeman's even more insane sadistic desires. He stopped kicking and punching, panting heavily, his murky and lewd eyes scanning the girl curled up on the ground, a disgusting smirk playing on his lips.

"Hmph, at least she knows what's good for her." He muttered under his breath, bent down and grabbed the girl's tattered shirt, dragging her like a dying kitten towards a nearby abandoned building.

The police officer roughly threw the girl to the ground, his rough hands tearing open her already tattered clothes. The sound of tearing fabric was especially clear in the silent building. The girl's body was instantly exposed to the cold air. Her thin torso was covered with a mix of old and new wounds, bruises and scabbed wounds, a shocking sight.

The policeman's gaze, like sticky worms, roamed freely over her body, revealing undisguised lewdness and filth.

"Although he's a monster, his body is still quite tender." He said, stretching out his filthy hand and uttering vulgar curses.

"Damn it, these days you can't afford to touch clean girls, and even the ones you can afford have gone up in price, so you're the only one I can vent my frustrations on—a monster like you who nobody cares about..."

The shameful actions, the vile words, the twisted smiles—all laid bare the lowest limits of humanity in the shadows. The girl closed her empty eyes in despair, tears silently streaming down her face, soaking the dust beneath her, yet she had no strength left to struggle.

Just then, a hand suddenly appeared above the policeman's head.

He grabbed her, and suddenly he and the girl were transported to another world!

"Huh?" One moment the policeman was taking off his pants, and the next he found himself in a strange place.

There was no light, only a dark red mist of blood permeating the surroundings, staining everything a nauseating ochre red. He crashed heavily onto a sticky patch of ground, his palm pressing down on it; it was warm, like mushy mud.

He struggled to get up, but his ankles were tightly bound by cold iron chains covered in barbs that instantly pierced his flesh and embedded themselves in his bone. A sudden dragging force pulled him towards a patch of black rock covered in sharp spikes, which gleamed with a cold, eerie green light.

"I'm a police officer! I'm a police officer! Let me go, let me go!"

He screamed and roared, but he didn't even understand what was happening or where he was. He only knew to instinctively use the authority of the government on his person to intimidate others.

His response was a soft crawling sound.

Countless tiny black insects, no bigger than a fingernail, surged from the darkness. They had transparent wings and jet-black mouthparts, swarming onto his bleeding wound and frantically gnawing at the fresh flesh. The insects' mouthparts were coated with corrosive saliva; wherever they passed, the flesh instantly rotted away, exposing the stark white bones, yet they somehow managed to keep him from dying.

He could clearly feel the itching pain of the insects burrowing into his wound, the aching and swelling of his muscles being gnawed away, and the agonizing sensation of every inch of his flesh screaming in agony.

The pain, surpassing even the agony of being torn to pieces, instantly robbed him of his ability to think and speak.

But that wasn't the end. The chains suddenly yanked upwards, suspending him in mid-air. Countless thick tentacles, covered in slime and tiny barbs, descended from the blood mist above, entwining his body and forcibly prying open his eyes, mouth, and nose.

He struggled frantically, which only aggravated the wounds all over his body. The black worms that gnawed at his flesh were attracted by the blood and swarmed towards his eye sockets, mouth, and nasal cavity, burrowing into his ear canals and frantically gnawing inside his skull. He could feel the tingling and excruciating pain of the insects biting his brain, and countless chaotic sounds exploded in his mind.

And so, he was completely devoured.

Then, he came back to life.

The chains moved again, dragging him to a massive millstone. The millstone, made of dark stone, churned with a dull rumble as it turned. His feet, which he had used to kick the girl in the stomach, were forcibly pressed beneath it. As the millstone spun, the crisp sound of bones cracking was clearly audible. His toes, under the immense pressure, turned to mush, blood mingling with bone fragments, ground into a thin layer that stuck to the stone surface.