Chapter 183: The Peeping Tom and the Caged Firefly
"Welcome to the Stellaron Hunters, Orion."
Kafka's voice, a smooth and melodic cadence that seemed to vibrate in the air, pulled you back from your thoughts. You stood in a room that was starkly modern, all polished chrome and cool, recessed lighting. It felt less like a living space and more like a high-end showroom.
"Come with me, newcomer. It's time to arrange your living quarters."
Over the next few days, you gradually adapted to your new, surreal life. The Stellaron Hunters' ship—a hidden, sprawling base you still hadn't fully mapped—was a labyrinth of high-tech corridors. Your rehabilitation training, as Kafka called it, was personally overseen by her.
Inside the sterile white training room, Kafka leaned lazily against the far wall, a picture of casual control. "Come, try this."
Several sleek, humanoid training mechs rose silently from panels in the floor. Their single, red electronic eyes locked onto you. "Take them down," she said, her voice bored, as if asking you to pass the salt.
You instinctively wanted to say you had no idea how to fight. Your mind was a blank slate, a frustrating void where your past should be.
But the next second—whoosh!—one of the robots launched a surprise attack, its arm blurring in a piston-driven jab aimed at your face.
Your brain hadn't even given the command, but your body reacted like an awakened, coiled beast. A flare of adrenaline you didn't know you possessed ignited in your chest.
Sidestep. Your feet moved, avoiding the blow by a millimeter.
Dodge. You ducked under a sweeping counter-attack from a second mech.
Grab. Your hand shot out, seizing the first robot's attacking arm.
Over-the-shoulder throw. You used its own momentum against it, pivoting and slamming the multi-ton machine into the second mech.
Bang!
In less than three seconds, the first mech was a heap of shattered plating, and the second was staggering to regain its balance. Then came the third, the fourth. Your movements were fluid, economical, and lethally precise. It was a brutal ballet you didn't know the choreography to.
Only when the last robot fell, its red eye flickering out, did you come back to your senses, panting heavily. You stared at your own hands, your mind reeling.
"I… how could I…"
"Interesting," Kafka walked over, the click of her heels the only sound in the room. "Your brain has forgotten the past, but your body…" She extended a slender, gloved finger, her fingertip gently tracing the tense, coiled muscles of your arm. The touch was cold, clinical, yet unnervingly intimate.
Her fingertip didn't just trace; it pressed, assessing the density of the muscle, the memory held within the fibers. "It still remembers the feel of a blade," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "It remembers the path of least resistance, the exact point a joint will snap. It still remembers how to kill."
Night. You fell into that nightmare again.
It was never clear. Just fragments. A torrent of blinding white light. The feeling of disintegration, of being torn apart atom by atom. The smell of ozone and burning metal. And screams. Desperate screams, calling a name… Neergul! Jiang Li!
The names meant nothing to you. Yet, they tore at your soul.
"Wake up."
A gentle voice, smooth as velvet, cut through the terror. You opened your eyes, gasping, your body drenched in cold sweat. Kafka was sitting by your bed, the room's dim light casting soft shadows on her face.
"Had another nightmare?" she asked softly.
You gasped for air and nodded, clutching your chest as your heart hammered against your ribs.
"Listen to me…" Her voice softened, and you felt an unnatural calm begin to wash over you, smoothing the jagged edges of your panic. Her words weren't just sound; they were a force, a gentle, invasive pressure on your mind.
[Inorin's Note: Kafka possesses a powerful "Spirit Whisper" ability, allowing her to hypnotize and mentally influence others with her voice and touch.]
"Forget those pains," she soothed. "You are free now, unburdened by the past. Those echoes can't hurt you."
The power of her words slowly calmed the turmoil within you, pushing the chaotic emotions down until they were distant and muffled.
"Why…" you couldn't resist asking, your voice hoarse. "Why are you so good to me?"
"Silly question." Her voice was very soft. She reached out, her gloved fingertips brushing the damp sweat from your temple. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver through you. "We are a... unique family, Orion. Bound not by blood, but by Elio's script. We don't abandon any 'family member,' no matter what they've been through. And you already are one."
She stood. "So, sleep soundly. Here, you don't need to fear nightmares anymore."
Her words, along with her presence, carried a certain magic. You watched her retreating back, speechless. Family… You lay there, the concept alien to you, until you were finally enveloped by a peaceful, undisturbed sleep.
The next morning, as soon as you arrived at the training room, you saw a familiar figure. Silver-grey hair, a fluorescent green dress—it was Firefly, the girl from the medical pod.
"You're here," she stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. She looked significantly less serene than when she was asleep.
"Uh… good morning?"
"What 'good morning'!" She pointed an accusatory finger at you, her face flushing with indignation. "Don't think that just because you joined, I'll pretend what happened that day didn't!"
"What happened that day?" you asked, genuinely confused.
"Still playing dumb!" Her face instantly turned a brighter shade of red. "That day you… you peeked at me! While I was in the pod! You pervert! Peeping Tom!"
"I really didn't mean to," you protested. "I just woke up, I didn't know anything…"
"Enough!" she interrupted, her voice sharp. "Kafka said that from today on, your combat training is my responsibility!" She flashed a smile that was all teeth, holding a dangerous glint. "Perfect. Now I can legitimately beat you up! Peeping Tom!"
"Wait, isn't that a bit much…"
"SAM!"
Boom! Flames surged as a pillar of fire erupted in the training room. When it cleared, the imposing, silver-white mech stood in her place, its glowing green optic humming as it locked onto you.
[Inorin's Note: SAM, or Stellaron Hunter Mechanical Armor, is Firefly's advanced combat suit, which she can summon at will.]
"Come on, Peeping Tom!" her synthesized voice echoed from the mech. "Let me see what you've got!"
You gave a wry smile and adopted a fighting stance, your body moving on instinct. "Wait! Fighting me while wearing a mech, isn't that unfair?"
The mech paused. "Then… what do you want?"
You allowed a small, testing smirk to touch your lips. "Take it off," you said, your voice just a bit too casual. "Let's have a fair fight."
"You—!" The mech's voice modulator crackled with her sudden spike in emotion. "You! You want to see me again… You really are a pervert!"
"I didn't mean it like that!" you quickly clarified, though the amusement in your eyes probably gave you away. "I mean a normal, one-on-one combat training! Do you seriously expect me to learn grappling techniques from this big guy?"
The mech was silent for a long, tense moment. Then, with a flash of light and a hiss of steam, SAM dissipated, and Firefly reappeared. This time, she had changed into a light, form-fitting black and green training suit that perfectly accentuated her vibrant, athletic curves.
"Hmph," she took a fighting stance, her own movements clearly professional. "Come on! I'm warning you, don't cry if you get hurt!"
Her sharp offensive was already upon you. She was so fast! You instinctively dodged, your body's muscle memory taking over, but her attacks were like a torrential, focused downpour.
"Too slow!" Thwack! She delivered a precise, stinging hand chop to your shoulder. "This hit is for what happened that day!"
Whap! A whip kick grazed your ribs. "This kick is for you pretending to have amnesia!"
"I wasn't pretending…"
Thud! She delivered a light, controlled punch to your abdomen that still knocked the wind out of you. "And this hit is for you making Kafka laugh at me!"
She wanted to continue, but your body, tired of this one-sided "training," finally acted. As her next punch came, you suddenly grabbed her wrist, spun, and used her momentum to pull her off balance, straight into your embrace.
The distance between you instantly closed. Her charge was stopped, her body colliding softly with your chest. She was trapped, her arms pinned, her face just inches from yours.
Firefly froze, her entire body going rigid. She could feel the solid muscle of your chest and the heat radiating from you. Her face, which had been flushed with exertion, turned a spectacular shade of crimson.
"Let… let go!" she stammered, trying to struggle.
"You promise me first," you said, your voice low, enjoying her flustered state far more than you should. "Stop calling me a peeping tom."
"I…" Just as she was about to struggle free, the training room door suddenly slid open.
"Oh, my," Kafka leaned against the doorframe, a slow, deeply amused smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. "It seems you two are getting along quite well."
Firefly, as if electrocuted, abruptly shoved you away with all her strength. "No! Not at all!" she yelped, scrambling backward. "I was just… just intensely training this newcomer! That's right! Training's over now. Done!"
With that, to cover her fluster, she fled the room without looking back.
"Tomorrow, we continue! Just you wait!" her threat echoed from down the corridor.
Only you and Kafka remained.
"It seems Firefly is quite interested in you," Kafka walked over, her wine-red eyes glinting with a knowing light. "She's usually not this… lively."
"She just wants to beat me up," you said, rubbing the spot on your shoulder where she'd hit you.
"Is that so?" Kafka gave you a meaningful, lingering glance, her smile never fading.