Honkai: Fire Moth Herrschers-Chapter 235: Old Tricks

The next day, on the central avenue of Te Moana Kino, the people, seemingly having forgotten the previous day's bloodshed, gathered once more, risking their lives.

Their expressions grew more ferocious, barely human—not just due to the terrifying contortions, but their disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, and rapidly aging skin, which took on a wrinkled, blue-grey hue. At first glance, one might think they had regressed into apes.

Amidst their fervent calls, a woman with a shaved head climbed onto the roof of a car.

This time, there was no square, no platform, certainly no microphone or speech draft. She simply, mechanically, raised her clenched fists above her head again and again. The crowd followed suit, roaring themselves hoarse:

"For Freedom!"

"For Freedom!"

"For Humanity!"

"For Humanity!"

"Fight for Pride!"

"Fight for Pride!"

"..."

Michael leaned against the rooftop railing, watching the distant street. The central avenue, over a hundred meters wide with eighteen lanes, was choked with people. Many, lacking space, uprooted shrubs and greenery from the roadside dividers, tossing them into the air—partially satisfying their urge for violence, partially clearing space.

He glanced at Sakura, easily reading the worry in her eyes.

"Although the United Government didn't open fire yesterday, rough estimates indicate at least 2,800 people died from trampling and suffocation, with over 13,000 severely injured. With hospitals shut down, most couldn't..." Sakura, seemingly misunderstanding Michael's glance, recited the casualty figures, her worry deepening. Today's street was even more crowded than yesterday. In just the past few dozen minutes, she had already seen over a hundred people swallowed by the sea of bodies, their faces ecstatic even in death.

Yet, they couldn't act, all for the sake of—ostensibly—saving more people.

"Aponia."

Michael called Aponia's name, his tone seemingly calm but carrying an unmistakable urgency.

Aponia, who had been standing rigidly on the rooftop, hands clasped, head bowed in a prayer-like stance, opened her indifferent, vacant eyes. She extended a single index finger and drew a red line on the satellite map displayed on the tablet Sakura held.

"Elysia, Kevin, what's the situation on your end?" Michael asked, clearly not inquiring about the riot itself.

"Hold on a moment! Give Dystopia some time, okay?"

Michael's mouth twitched, but thankfully, Kevin's side was ready.

"This is Ato. I am drawing the route on the map."

Michael looked at the map. A blue line had indeed appeared.

Half a minute later, the golden line representing Dystopia's detection results also materialized. Three lines of different colors originated from three distinct points in Te Moana Kino, extending outward and forming three intersection points.

Ignoring potential errors, if the three psychic-sensitive MANTISes traced the Honkai energy interference, the three lines should converge at a single point—the location of the hidden Honkai Beast or Herrscher. But reality was never without error, hence the three intersection points.

In other words, the three lines inevitably enclosed a small triangular area. Based on previous deductions, the hidden Honkai Beast or Herrscher was clearly located within this error-formed triangle.

Such elaborate measures were necessary. Whether the opponent was a Honkai Beast or a Herrscher, they wouldn't emit strong Honkai energy reactions without using their full power. Combined with the globally increasing background Honkai energy levels, even Emperor-class Honkai Beasts could no longer be identified solely by reaction magnitude...

"Alright. Kevin from the north, Elysia from the south, Sakura from the east. If you find the target, don't engage immediately. Try to drive it west towards the coastal beach."

"Understood."

While Kevin and Elysia acknowledged, Sakura glanced at the still-agitated crowd, then at Aponia, and finally nodded at Michael.

"I'll head out first."

Michael bit his lip, avoiding Sakura's retreating figure, his gaze fixed on Aponia again.

"Can you sever the mental link on her?" he asked, referring to the leader on the car roof.

Aponia shook her head. "Severing it momentarily is easy, but achieving the effect you desire is nearly impossible... Moreover, doing so would alert the enemy."

Michael said no more, switching communication channels. "Pardofelis, any movement from the United Government armed forces?"

"Four helicopters are preparing for takeoff. ETA to... wait, let me, let me check my notes, hmm! ETA to destination is approximately 290 seconds."

It's 260 seconds, Michael corrected silently. 290 seconds was the time from engine start to reaching Michael's current position overhead. Judging by the rotor sounds in Pardofelis's transmission, they'd already been warming up for a bit. Plus, the helicopters didn't need to fly directly over the target; they could use cannons and rockets from hundreds of meters, even a kilometer or two away, for forceful suppression...

"Hua, snipe that woman."

Bang!

Before he finished speaking, the gunshot echoed. The woman's bald head exploded into fragments amidst the reverberating sound. The crowd's roaring abruptly ceased.

Then came sudden screams, the sound of trampling. People further back, unaware of what had happened, only felt the crowd surging backward.

As for the psychic contamination hidden in the woman's voice, it vanished the instant she died. The excitement and anger she had instilled instantly transformed into terror.

"Aponia!"

The named woman sighed softly, assuming the prayer stance again. Her lips moved, then she opened her arms, scattering specks of golden light.

"[Please], go home."

After speaking, Aponia exhaled sharply, her body going limp, almost collapsing—fortunately, Michael swiftly constructed a lounge chair behind her.

"Imposing Discipline on over two hundred thousand individuals simultaneously... Is it still too taxing for you?"

"Yes... Only when one tries to exert their full strength... do they feel the smallness of their own power."

"No matter. What you just did was nothing short of miraculous. Besides, MANTIS strength is progressive; it peaks two to three years after surgery as the body deeply integrates with the ICHOR factor." Michael, slightly surprised by Aponia's tangible weariness, offered gentle words of comfort.

But he seemed to have overlooked something.

Aponia glanced at him strangely. "Michael, your sense of time..."

"What's wrong?"

"It has been three years since my Meta-Morph surgery."

"..."

Michael closed his mouth, turning his gaze back down. The dense crowd suddenly quieted.

No more clamor, no more fear. They just stood there, bewildered.

Even those who had fallen during the stampede and crush mostly gasped for air and staggered back to their feet.

Then, the same expression appeared on their faces—Confusion?

Who am I? Where am I?

Why did I come here?

Before the two hundred thousand plus people gathered could even figure out the first question, "Who am I?", images of the bloody suppressions from the past month played almost simultaneously in everyone's minds.

No further guidance was needed. After the artificially induced excitement faded, faced with such gruesome scenes and the roar of approaching helicopter engines, the most primal human instinct—survival—instantly took over.

But just as fear threatened to incite another chaotic surge, two other mental forces swept across the area, keeping everyone's emotions balanced on the threshold—afraid, but not overly terrified.

Then, just as Aponia's Discipline commanded—[Please], go home.

The people began to disperse aimlessly. To prevent a repeat of the earlier trampling, Aponia, Ato, and Dystopia had to bear the mental load of over two hundred thousand consciousnesses, maintaining their neutral mental state, allowing them to instinctively move towards home.

But Michael looked towards the eastern sky. Four armed helicopters bearing United Government insignia had deployed in attack formation. They only needed to pull the trigger, and the cannons mounted on the nose and fuselage could wash the central avenue in a rain of blood.

However, the lead flight commander and the weapons operator, seeing the scene below, exchanged a silent glance and didn't fire immediately.

"All units, be advised. Crowd on the ground is dispersing. Maintain alert, hold fire. Awaiting further orders from ground command."

The four helicopters flew quickly over the street, circled widely in the distance, and finally hovered in mid-air.

"Mike, what are you doing? Why aren't you firing?"

"Sir, I believe the onboard camera feed is clear enough. The rioters are dispersing on their own. It seems unnecessary to use force..."

"Cut the crap! You called them rioters yourself! You deal with rioters by shoving a bullet up their ass, pulling the trigger, then stuffing their ashes into a cannon and firing it—What are you waiting for?!"

"..."

Mike licked his lips, tasting salt. He wiped his face; unknowingly, he was drenched in sweat.

He looked back at his weapons operator again. His familiar partner simply gave a slight shake of the head.

He didn't understand. No, he couldn't be sure what his partner of nearly ten years meant by shaking his head.

Was it a warning not to fire on unarmed civilians?

Or a warning not to disobey orders and ruin his promising career?

He swallowed hard. This middle-aged man, whose name happened to be the same as Michael's, chose refusal.

"Sorry, sir. I cannot open fire on non-target crowds."

"Non-target crowds? What non-target crowds? The target crowd is right below you!"

"..."

Mike took two deep breaths. He hadn't wanted this mission in the first place; it was just his squadron's turn on the rotation—but now he was glad it was him. If it had been someone else...

"All units, returning to base temporarily. Awaiting new orders."

"Fine! Mike! Captain! You're fucking finished! Your promotion next month is fucking finished! Your vacation is fucking finished! Your pension, your brother's job, all fucking finished! And the rest of your squadron members, all finished! Unless you stop returning to base right now, turn around, and fire!"

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Mike decisively cut the communication and gave his old partner an apologetic smile.

The partner deactivated the weapons targeting system, smiled bitterly, patted his shoulder, and shook his head again. But then, as his head turned and his perspective shifted, his eyes widened in horror—

"Mike, look at Number Two!"

"Goddamn it, Jones, stop!"

But he forgot he had just cut the comms.

His words became nothing more than a powerless, desperate roar.

He watched helplessly as his deputy commander, Jones, expertly maneuvered Number Two, turning it around, aiming the three forward-facing 23mm cannons at the street below.

But one second passed, two seconds, three seconds...

The cannons remained silently pointed at the dazed, slowly dispersing crowd below, refusing to spit fire.

Unseen by them, on the rooftop of a nearby building, Michael sighed in relief, dissipating the electric arcs between his fingers—using the Third Herrscher's powers to disrupt electronically dependent weapons was just basic procedure.

It wasn't the only use of the Third Herrscher's power; the earlier conversation between the helicopter captain with his namesake and the ground commander had also been intercepted as electromagnetic waves. If not for that, he would have disrupted the electromagnetic field immediately, disabling the helicopters entirely.

Number Two hung awkwardly for a full half-minute. Finally confirming the weapons wouldn't fire, it reluctantly turned back and followed the formation towards the base—those walking below weren't just fellow citizens' heads; they were potential commendations!

Unfortunately, ill-gotten gains shouldn't be taken, and ill-gotten merits certainly shouldn't be sought.

"Like this, they'll just send a second wave of helicopters later." Aponia's voice was extremely weak.

"No matter. I will remain here until the crowd has completely dispersed." Michael's words were calm, but he still raised his hand to construct three steaming cups of coffee. One was offered to Aponia; the other two were sent through spatial rifts to Ato and Dystopia.

Aponia took a sip, seeming somewhat revived.

"You can add more sugar next time, thank you."

"...Sorry, I didn't realize you liked sweet drinks, so I deliberately didn't add any sugar."

"Hehe, if not forced, who would choose bitter melon juice over coconut milk? Or rather... who would refuse a well-paved road to deliberately walk a thorny path?"

Hearing such cryptic words, Michael simply turned his head away.

If he couldn't tell whether it was normal conversation or prophecy, best not to dwell on it.

Whatever was coming would come. And Michael had a good sense of the major events likely to unfold.

"However, are you really just going to wait here? The Honkai Beast... or Herrscher... are you truly confident leaving it to Ely, Kevin, and Sakura?"

"What, you think the three of them combined can't handle one Honkai Beast, or one Herrscher?"

"That's different." Aponia shook her head. "Even if their combat power is strong, facing psychic attacks, whether they can maintain their resolve... that remains unknown. Besides..."

Aponia left the second half unsaid—Michael could easily find a more comfortable posture, like sitting beside her, so why remain standing, muscles tensed? Wasn't this clearly preparing to provide backup at a moment's notice?

The roar of helicopters returned. This time, they flew directly past Michael and Aponia, yet didn't stir even a breeze—shielded by a double layer of Imaginary barriers, they were undetectable even optically.

This helicopter squadron, like the previous one, aimed its cannons at the now much sparser crowd below. Unfortunately for them, the barrels still refused to fire.

They circled over the central avenue for five full minutes before finally returning to base, defeated.

"How much longer?" Michael, who had seemed calm moments ago, suddenly urged.

"At the current pace, at least another half hour."

Michael let out a heavy breath—the United Government forces weren't fools. If they persisted with the mission, he'd need a different method of obstruction next time. A spatial corridor, perhaps?

Also, they might deploy ground troops...

Though Michael thought it unlikely. These so-called "rioters" had no deep-seated hatred for the soldiers; their only reason to fire was following orders.

With the "rioters" clearly heading home, would those orders be adjusted?

Surely they would!

But regardless, Michael still had to wait here a while longer to be certain before going to support Elysia.

He couldn't help but worry. It wasn't concern about their strength; as he'd said, the three of them were more than capable of handling the potential enemy.

Even considering Aponia's concern—the enemy's psychic attacks.

Kevin and Sakura might have problems, but Elysia wouldn't.

Michael was certain of this; he knew Elysia's crystal could block psychic attacks.

So, at this point, Michael was somewhat tongue-tied—even he couldn't quite pinpoint the source of his anxiety.

After a moment, he realized. His worry wasn't about vague possibilities, but stemmed from a fact—

Why hadn't they received any word yet? At their speed, they should have located the enemy's hiding place by now.

Indeed, they had encountered some problems.

Kevin leaped forward abruptly. He could already see the greenery on a nearby rooftop, and amidst it, the very conspicuous figures of the girl and the large peacock.

Undoubtedly the target. Besides, the two made no effort to conceal the Honkai energy radiating from them.

He reached for the microphone on his collar. Before attacking, one should report to superiors and notify comrades—Kevin knew these procedures by heart.

But his hand found nothing—the collar was empty. Where was the microphone?

Wait a second...

Kevin blinked. Had he felt dizzy just now?

His hand, hovering in mid-air, instinctively straightened his collar, making the already crisp school uniform stand even taller.

As he did so, a chorus of girls' screams erupted around him.

Glancing around at his excited classmates surrounding him in the center of the court, he felt utterly familiar with the scene, so familiar it couldn't distract him even slightly.

His body felt tired, which was natural after such intense competition—Kevin thought.

"Kevin!"

A familiar call came from his right—incredibly familiar, yet Kevin couldn't immediately recall the name of the person calling.

He reached out his right arm. More than a conscious effort to catch the ball, it felt like an instinctual bodily reaction.

The basketball landed in his hand. His fingertips instantly registered the hard texture, the slickness of sweat, relaying it all to his central nervous system— "When did my hands become so sensitive?"

He started dribbling, but felt a slight awkwardness, as if he hadn't touched a basketball in years. Yet that couldn't be right; his skills felt improved. In just two or three seconds, he blew past four defenders, drove into the paint, and faced the final line of defense—a dark-skinned guy a full head taller than him.

"Big Shark?" The nickname popped into Kevin's head. Strangely, within this simple nickname, he sensed a touch of aged time.

As if they had faced off on the court long ago—wait, had they? Hadn't they?

Had they?

Hadn't they?

While Kevin's mind wrestled with these contradictory questions, his body reacted first—a fake, then a sudden spin for a layup.

The moment the ball swished through the net, the game-ending whistle blew. The sharp sound pierced Kevin's brain, stunning him.

"Kevin! Kevin!"

Amidst the shouts, a crowd of familiar yet strange faces surrounded him, engulfing him.

One by one, they embraced him, though his own reaction was wooden—these people looked so familiar... he could easily recall their names now.

But... though they were classmates, teammates, Kevin suddenly felt distant from them, unilaterally distant.

A strange sense of unfamiliarity washed over him.

Just as he was about to resist this feeling, the classmates and teammates around him parted like waves.

Kevin's gaze naturally followed the path they cleared.

And saw the girl standing there, a hesitant look on her face...

"Mei!"

In that instant, all sense of dissonance, all strangeness, vanished from Kevin's mind.

All he wanted now was to step forward and hold Mei in his arms.

But Mei, with a touch of bashfulness, stepped back slightly, then held out a bottle of soda.

"This is... I bought this..."

Kevin took the soda without hesitation and downed it in one go.

A smile quickly spread across Mei's face. Kevin stared at her,怔怔地 (blankly, dazedly), somehow letting her lead him out of the gymnasium.

"By the way... Kevin, I often see you playing basketball, but I rarely see you play baseball. Why do you always carry a baseball bat?"

Meeting Mei's curious gaze, Kevin felt awkward. He couldn't exactly say the bat was actually for...

Just then, his eyes caught a glimpse of a grey figure.

"Su!"

He waved, but Su just smiled, shook his head, and retreated into the crowd—he didn't want to be a third wheel.

"What's wrong?" Mei asked curiously, following Kevin's gaze.

"Ah... Ah! That was Su, the one I always mention to you." Kevin scratched his head, his muscles relaxed, his tone natural, clearly immersed in this...

He enjoyed everything about this moment. He could barely distinguish enjoyment from nostalgia, but a strange feeling lingered deep down, as if some major event was about to happen soon.

"Right, Mei... You pulled me out here because..." He suddenly remembered he should be celebrating with his teammates right now.

"Ah—Sorry, it's just that the teacher asked me to greet two transfer students... I, I thought, since I'm alone... maybe we could go together..." Mei turned her head away shyly like a little girl, but Kevin's lips curled upwards.

"Alright, alright!" He waved his hand dismissively.

"What are the names of those two transfer students?"

"One boy, one girl. Their names are interesting. One is called Michael, the other Elysia."

"Wait!" Kevin stopped abruptly.

"Michael... Elysia..." He muttered the names, clutching his head in pain as he crouched down.

Because he was holding his head, he didn't notice—everything around him, the school, Mei, had faded into ethereal illusions.

Before he could look up and realize, he suddenly began to fall, plummeting into another world.