When they landed, the hatch opened with a hiss. Warm air rushed in immediately, tinged with ozone and faint synthetic oils. Outside, thousands of android civilians bustled with luggage cases that floated beside them, transport drones zipping overhead. Vendors shouted coded messages through holographic displays that shifted into whatever language passerby preferred.
Luna walked beside Valerian, her posture perfectly straight, her smile bright but fragile. Every few steps, she tried to talk:
"It's… warmer than I expected here, isn't it?" she said softly, but he walked on without acknowledgment.
"Oh, look—their pets are so cute, little gearwolves…" she added nervously, only to meet silence again.
Her smile faltered, but she forced it back. "I-It's crowded, but it feels alive, doesn't it? "
Still nothing. He didn't even turn.
Her laughter came out faint, trembling, but she kept her eyes forward. Don't break. Don't let him see it hurts.
At last, two figures in black-and-silver ISA field uniforms approached, the emblem glowing across their chest plates. Their movements were crisp, mechanical, almost too precise—clearly enhanced with cybernetic augmentations.
"Stormbane. Mooncreast," one of them greeted, bowing slightly. His voice was filtered, vibrating with synthesizer undertones. "We've been assigned to escort you. Please follow us to the 126th floor conference level."
Valerian simply nodded, his stormy expression unchanging. Luna mirrored the gesture, though she accompanied it with her usual polite smile.
The officials led them into a towering spire of alloy and glass, its base rooted deep into the Trade Expanse and its tip lost somewhere beyond the smog-glittered skyline. Inside, instead of stairs or elevators, a luminous tube engulfed them, and with a soft thrum, gravity shifted.
The world tilted, then they were weightless—pulled upward in silence, rushing past floor after floor at impossible speed. Through the transparent walls of the tube, Luna glimpsed android families in glowing restaurants, cyborg engineers programming floating drones mid-air, Junker traders arguing over unstable black-market devices. The life here was overwhelming, chaotic, yet strangely human.
After a few seconds, a glyph flared on the wall: 126. Gravity reasserted itself gently, and the tube opened into a pristine corridor.
Unlike the chaos below, this floor was polished perfection. Walls glowed with ISA's white-and-blue aesthetic, the seal emblazoned across crystalline doors. The hum of machines softened here, giving way to a sterile quiet.
"This way," the official instructed, guiding them into a wide hall that opened into the ISA-certified lab and conference center.
The door sealed behind them with a soft hiss, leaving only the hum of machinery and the faint, sterile scent of polished chrome and electro-fiber. The lab stretched wide, its walls lined with transparent tanks where mechanical fluids shimmered like liquid stars. Holo-screens projected streams of data across the air—schematics of exo-frames, humanoid forms of shifting alloys, and genetic compatibility matrices scrolling so fast only advanced AI could track them.
In the center of it all stood the scientist. His ISA researcher uniform was crisp white with faint cerulean stripes running down the sleeves, the ISA crest pulsing faintly above his chest. His face was thin, spectacles augmented with bright neon rims scanning through multiple data feeds at once.
Valerian and Luna both bowed politely, their voices almost overlapping.
"Valerian Stormbane."
"Luna Mooncrest."
The scientist clasped his hands. "Thomas Pear. Researcher, Biomechanical Adaptation Division." His tone was brisk, efficient, but not unfriendly. "Take your seats, please. We have much to discuss, and very little time to waste."
The chairs they sat on weren't ordinary—they adjusted instantly to their posture, shifting firmness and height until their backs aligned with medical precision. Valerian sat stiff, perfectly composed, his gaze forward. Luna lowered herself with a nervous grace, her coat folding neatly, though her hands fidgeted in her lap. She made sure to leave a careful gap between herself and Valerian, like the distance itself was a fragile boundary she dared not cross.
Thomas tapped his wrist device, and a hologram filled the room. Flame Stormbringer's face appeared—a boy of twelve with bright hair like flickering fire, his eyes carrying the golden flare of his lineage. Behind his image, a massive cityscape unfolded: Mechatopia, a city unlike any other, gleaming steel and circuitry rising like mountains into the void. The air vibrated faintly as the hologram spoke in a synthesized voice: Central Capital: Universe 03A. No human entry permitted.
Thomas folded his hands behind his back. "Now, listen carefully. This is no ordinary kidnapping. Yes, the case seems small at the surface—a boy taken, lineage threatened. But the moment Flame was traced to Mechatopia, everything changed. The Mecha Empire is absolute in one rule—no human enters. For humans, survival inside their capital is impossible. Flesh is weakness there. Which is why…"
He turned, gesturing to two adjacent doors with glowing circuit-like engravings. "You will undergo biomechanical layering."
Luna blinked rapidly. "B-biomechanical… layering?"
Thomas nodded. "Not transformation. Not augmentation. Layers. Think of it as armor—but armor that breathes, flexes, and lives like your own skin. The technology will create three hyper-thin membranes over your body. The first is a skeletal weave, interfacing with your nervous system to translate every movement into cybernetic language. The second is the fiber layer, regulating energy and stabilizing your muscles against Mecha-grade gravity. The third…" His voice lowered slightly, as if reverent. "…is the cosmetic layer. A false flesh of alloy and polymer, indistinguishable from the humanoid constructs of Mechatopia. It will disguise you as one of their own. You will not just pass—your presence will not be questioned."
Valerian leaned forward slightly, storm-blue eyes sharp. "Understood. No questions. I accept the procedure." His voice was calm, steady—like steel.
Luna, however, froze. Her cheeks burned hot, and she shifted in her seat. "W-wait… you mean… we have to—without—without clothes?"
Thomas raised a brow, almost amused. "Of course. The layering must be seamless. No foreign fabrics, no interruptions in conductivity. Only undergarments are permitted."
Luna's voice squeaked faintly. "B-but… that…" She twisted her fingers together in her lap, gaze flicking downward, purple hair slipping across her flushed cheeks.
Thomas tilted his head. "Miss Mooncrest. You are an S rank, yes? Surely you have undergone training under far harsher circumstances. ISA training does not permit modesty to interfere with mission readiness. Are you telling me now that you hesitate?"
Her heart jumped. She straightened instantly, forcing a smile through her burning embarrassment. "N-no! Of course not. I—I was just… clarifying!"
Valerian turned his head slightly at her voice, his gaze unreadable. He didn't say a word, but his eyes lingered a moment longer than usual before shifting back to the scientist.
Thomas nodded firmly. "Then no more questions. The procedure is harmless, painless, and necessary. Each of you will enter one of the rooms. Lie down on the rectilinear bed. Disrobe except for your base garments. The machine will do the rest. Do not resist it. The layers will feel strange at first, but within minutes, they will become as natural as your own skin."
He pointed at the glowing doors again. "Now. Proceed."
The two stood almost in unison. Valerian strode forward with steady steps, his boots ringing against the polished floor, his presence cold, resolute.
Luna followed slower, her heart hammering so loudly she swore it echoed in her ears. Undergarments only… in a lab… procedure… oh no oh no oh no… She bit her lip, cheeks hot, sweat prickling the back of her neck beneath her purple hair.
She risked a glance at Valerian as they reached the fork to separate doors. He didn't look at her, not even once—his jaw set, eyes forward, shoulders squared. To him, this was just another task. Another step in the mission.
Her own steps faltered. Why is it so easy for him? Why am I trembling like this? She squeezed her hands together, nervous laughter almost slipping out but catching in her throat. You're an S rank, Luna. You've fought monsters, assassins, warlords. And you're scared of—of this? What will he think of you? That you're weak. That you're ridiculous.
At the doorway, Valerian paused briefly, turning his head just enough to meet her gaze. His stormy eyes flickered with something unreadable—pity, irritation, or maybe nothing at all.
"Focus," he said flatly. "It's just procedure." Then he stepped inside, and the door sealed behind him.
Luna stood frozen for a heartbeat, cheeks blazing. Just procedure… just procedure… she repeated to herself, slapping her flushed cheeks with both palms. Then, sucking in a breath, she forced her legs to move and entered her own room.
Valerian's Room
The door closed with a sealed hiss, lights dimming until only a faint blue glow illuminated the chamber. The room was silent, sterile—every surface gleaming with chrome, lines of neon running like veins across the walls. At its center lay the rectilinear bed, smooth and flat, covered in a sheet of transparent alloy that pulsed faintly as though breathing.
Valerian stepped forward without hesitation. He removed his Hyperion Defender uniform with sharp, practiced efficiency, folding it into the compartment that slid from the wall. Beneath, only the black compression underlayer clung to his body, thin as a second skin. He lay down on the bed, arms at his side, expression impassive.
Immediately, the bed came alive. A lattice of light spread across his body, mapping every contour of muscle and bone. He felt a faint static crackle, like tiny sparks racing along his skin.
"First layer: skeletal weave initialized," announced a calm mechanical voice.
From the ceiling, a web of silver filaments descended. They moved like strands of spider silk, guided by invisible precision. The first contact was cold—unnaturally cold—as the filaments latched to his temples, his spine, his arms, his legs. Valerian did not flinch. He felt the threads sink past skin, merging with nerves, sending faint electric shivers through his body. His vision flashed white for a moment as his nervous system synchronized with the system.
His thoughts became sharper, edges cutting through fog. He could feel the bed reading him, not just his body but his mind, cataloguing every impulse.
He exhaled slowly. "Efficient. Pain-free. Acceptable."
"Second layer: fiber musculature initialized."
This time, thicker strands emerged, glowing faintly green. They wove across his chest, his arms, his legs—like a cocoon of luminous threads. Valerian could feel the weight increase, pressing into him, stabilizing his frame. His muscles resisted instinctively, but the fibers tightened, aligning with each contraction, enhancing every twitch. He tested his fist—already stronger, faster.
He whispered under his breath. "So this is the edge machines live with every day."
"Final layer: cosmetic alloy initialized."
A warm mist filled the chamber, coating the fibers. It condensed instantly into a shimmering membrane, smoothing over him. His skin tone began to shift—not human flesh, but something subtly mechanical, alloy with the appearance of perfection. No pores, no scars, no human imperfections. Only flawless, unyielding surface.
Valerian's stormy eyes flickered once. "Disguise complete. No weakness." He closed them briefly, calm. "Now… only the mission remains."
Luna's Room
The door sealed, and Luna's heart skipped. The chamber looked almost identical to Valerian's, but to her, it felt suffocating. The sterile smell, the dim blue glow, the quiet—all of it pressed against her chest.
She hesitated, hands trembling as she unbuttoned her long light-purple coat, folding it neatly before setting it aside. Then her garments, layer by layer, until only her pale undergarments remained—modest, standard-issue ISA, nothing revealing. But to Luna, it felt like standing completely bare in the cold silence. Her cheeks flamed, and she laughed nervously to herself.
"I'm S rank… I fought Void Serpents without flinching… why am I blushing now like a child?" She bit her lip, forcing her legs forward until she lay on the bed. Her body was tense, knees pressed close, hands clenched into fists.
The machine hummed, and a lattice of light scanned across her body. It tickled—like tiny currents of electricity brushing every inch of her skin. She gasped, a small squeak escaping before she quickly covered her mouth.
"First layer: skeletal weave initialized."
Threads of silver descended. They looked delicate, but the moment they touched her skin, a shiver ran down her spine. They sank deeper, latching onto her nerves. Luna flinched, her back arching slightly.
"A-ah!" She quickly bit down on her lip. "Stay calm, Luna, stay calm—it's just… it's just procedure. Valerian did this without a sound, I'm sure. Don't be pathetic."
Her body trembled as sparks of electric sensation ran along her spine, her temples, her arms. For a moment, she felt like she was glowing inside—her very heartbeat syncing with the cold rhythm of the machine.
"Second layer: fiber musculature initialized."
Luminous green strands unfurled from the ceiling, weaving around her body. They pressed down, binding her muscles, aligning with her frame. She gasped again, feeling the weight, the constriction—like being hugged too tightly by something unyielding.
"It feels… heavy… like chains, but alive. Stronger. Faster. This isn't mine—it's not my body anymore, it's something else. No… it is mine, but different."
Her thoughts spiraled, cheeks still red. "If Valerian saw me now—like this—he'd call me weak. He'd say I'm trembling, fidgeting, pathetic. I can't… I can't let him see."
"Final layer: cosmetic alloy initialized."
A soft mist descended, warm this time. It coated the fibers, sealing them, hardening into a thin flawless surface. She felt her skin shift, her body cooling as the artificial flesh formed. It looked like her—but smoother, cleaner, almost too perfect, like a doll made of living alloy.
She lifted her hand, staring at it. It shimmered faintly in the blue light. "Is this me… or am I gone?" she whispered.
For a heartbeat, her chest ached, the despair from earlier curling again. "No matter how much I change… no matter how flawless this skin is… he'll never look at me the way I look at him."
Her smile trembled, soft and nervous, as her eyes burned faintly with unshed tears.
"Still… if this lets me stay by his side, even just for the mission… I'll endure anything."