Chapter 622: Hidden Profiles
And he wasn’t entirely pleased.
Because who would be pleased to hear and see their precious person overworked like that?
Luca’s hangar was vast. Wide enough to house multiple mechas, lined with polished panels and scattered crates, the kind of space that screamed both grandeur and chaos. But in that expanse of steel and shadows, Xavier’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the tiniest figure.
Bundled up against the wall like a discarded kitten sat his little wife, looking more exhausted than victorious. And close to him, hidden in plain sight, was a hulking mass that was obviously trying to act invisible.
Sid. The guardian mecha.
Unlike D-29, Xavier knew perfectly well that Sid was there. Sid would never abandon Luca, not now and not ever, unless he had no desire to exist as well. Besides, their bond meant there was no real way to hide from each other. They shared the same sea of consciousness. Pretending otherwise was laughable.
Still, the Imperial Crown Prince knew better than to stare. After all, it was one thing to know he was there, but another to see what he looked like. What if Luca learned that he had already seen Sid before Sid was ready to be shown off? The devastation on his little chipmunk’s face would be heartbreaking. Luca would recover, yes, but for a brief moment, he would wear that same dejected look he usually had right before pressing the purchase button in the Trove.
And what kind of husband would want to be the reason for that despair?
So the wolf, who had been tearing through enemies left and right these past weeks, simply crouched and picked up the exhausted bundle. Luca instinctively curled against him, soft and pliant.
But before leaving, Xavier, who kept his back turned against the mecha that looked like a thief caught in the act, said evenly, "Congratulations, Sid."
The guardian mecha froze. Gratitude swelled within him, but guilt followed quickly. He wanted to explain why he had hidden like that.
"Master—"
"I know."
"!!!"
Xavier’s voice was calm, but it cut straight through him.
"So for this grace, and for all his efforts, just be prepared for training."
Right. That was only fair. The best repayment for everyone’s efforts was to succeed.
"Yes, Master!" Sid’s voice rang with conviction.
Xavier departed with his bundle, leaving Sid behind with only his thoughts. The guardian mecha tilted his head and called out, "D-29, you heard that right?"
"Ack! No—Error—Signal unstable—" sputtered the little system, feigning interference like a bad radio pretending not to pick up its owner’s commands.
Sid’s tone was mercilessly sweet. "What a shame. I was going to offer to train with you. But since you’re not interested, then I guess you really do prefer to train with my master..."
Alarms shrieked inside D-29’s circuits. Fake errors turned into very real panic.
If Sid was a little tyrant, then the benefactor was a tyrant of tyrants!
And so, the poor system, who only wanted to look impressive, found itself cornered into what could only be called torture.
Although the true tyrant of tyrants was being tortured in the best possible way.
Xavier had always prided himself on his self-control. But there were things in life that were almost impossible to resist. Eliminating enemies who begged for it. Earning more money when his wife was looking downcast. And most of all... the overwhelming desire to nibble on Luca when he was like this.
So open. So trusting.
He had even tried to offer energy, the usual comfort that Luca greedily accepted, but today nothing was taken. No hungry gobbling, no desperate siphoning.
So it was like that again, now even more obvious than a few weeks ago.
Unlike before, Luca could now last longer without needing to discharge energy. So either his control has improved or his reserves have increased.
Which could only mean one thing.
The reason the soft bundle in his arms was so worn out wasn’t from energy imbalance.
It was from stress.
Only, it was the kind of stress born from worrying about a friend rather than the weight of carrying the Empire’s future.
And so, just knowing that Sid was finally able to move on his own was enough relief for Luca to sleep soundly, nestled against Xavier.
If only everyone else had such fortune.
Because scattered across the Empire of Solaris, invitations were arriving—and with them, stress levels were climbing faster than mecha thrusters in a gravity drill.
One such recipient was Master Mechanic Allan. The famed elder was just about to ignore the glossy envelope so he could continue tinkering with his latest idea when his assistant barged in.
"Master!"
Allan nearly dropped his wrench. "What now? Did someone die? Because unless you’ve got a corpse in the hall, there’s no reason to barge in when I’m mid-inspiration!"
The assistant paled. "N-no, Master! But the other master mechanics—"
"What about those relics?" Allan snapped.
"They’re all attending the upcoming auction in the capital!"
That stopped him. His hands froze mid-motion. "All of them? Are you telling me every last rattling bag of bones is actually dragging themselves to an auction that isn’t even tagged with high-grade raw materials?"
The assistant nodded, still panting. Because really, why would he go in with his life on the line if it wasn’t something this unusual?
Allan’s brows furrowed. "...Explain."
The assistant fidgeted, clutching his tablet like a lifeline. Normally, his master had no patience for gossip. Normally, repeating such trivialities would earn him a lecture on how ’mechanics should be working, not squawking like hens.’ But ever since their return from Planet Nova, his boss had been... different. Crankier, yes, but also more invested. More alive, even.
"Well, Master... I’m not sure if it’s related, but the masters seemed to have booked access to the Imperial Archives."
"The Imperial Archives? For what?"
"Uhm... speculation, Master, but it looks like they’re checking on that unusual case with mecha registration."
Allan narrowed his eyes. "What unusual case?"
"W-well, in the last few days, there have been sixteen registered mechas."
The old man scoffed. "Sixteen? So? Or is the problem because there have only been sixteen in the last few days?"
True. Ideally, that was nothing. With mechanics from all over the Empire registering their works daily regardless of purpose or class, there would be hundreds or even thousands of mechas registered every day. So what was really the problem?
"Yes, Master. But..." The assistant swallowed. "All sixteen were under the same ID."
Allan’s head whipped around so fast his neck cracked. "Same ID?!"
"Yes, Master! And while mechanics can choose to hide their personal information when submitting, the registry still notes if the ID is identical and lumps them together. And this one ID... produced sixteen mechas in a single month."
Allan slammed his foot down. "It might just be a new manufacturer who hired a new mechanic!"
"That’s just it, Master! No new companies have filed. Which is why the speculation is... it must just be a new genius mechanic."
The assistant braced for yelling, but instead, Allan—Master Allan, the crankiest of the cranky—was uncharacteristically silent. He had, after all, witnessed with his own eyes the creation of two mechas in two days. It was bittersweet. But from then on, the definition of genius had been altered in his mind.
He rasped, "Why specifically a genius mechanic?"
"W-well, Master... all sixteen mechas were classified as S-grades."
Allan blinked.
Then blinked again.
"..."
"WHAT?!" He nearly fell out of his chair. "All of them?!"
The assistant nodded miserably.
Allan clutched the back of his neck like he might strangle himself. How was he only hearing about this now?!
"Accept the damn auction invitation!" he bellowed, practically foaming at the mouth. "Then book me access to the Imperial Archives!"
His assistant flinched, almost dropping the tablet.
Allan glared at the wall as though it personally offended him. "Those damn geezers, rising from their graves only to sneak off like robbers! Obviously, they’re only attending because they want to have an excuse to see the listings! The Imperial Archives is the only place to see the details of a hidden profile!"
The assistant flinched so hard he nearly tripped over his own feet. After mumbling a rushed goodbye, he all but sprinted out of the workshop, tablet hugged to his chest like it might shield him from his master’s wrath.
It would be a do or die situation to get a booking for the Imperial Archives at this rate, but the assistant thought it would still be better to squabble with other assistants than be stuck in the room with his musing boss whose wrench was always too close for comfort.
That left Master Allan alone with his tools, his half-finished contraption, and the crushing weight of too many thoughts.
He rubbed his temples, voice dropping into a mutter, hoarse with disbelief. "But... could it really be that one again?"
And if it were, what could they do? More importantly, what did he even want to do?