The morning air in the base courtyard was crisp, carrying the heavy scent of fuel and ionized mana from the departing vanguard transports.

Ayla walked along the stone pathway with her hands clasped behind her back, her golden eyes scanning the bustling activity of the soldiers.

Mechanically, her mind was perfectly clear, but her thoughts inevitably drifted back to her grandfather’s mental broadcast.

The Spire. Two slots.

She needed to locate Kenji to update him about this new variable.

However, before she could round the corner leading to the training grounds, a familiar presence entered her passive perception radius.

"Ah, this might be Lady Ayla! Good morning."

Amanda stepped onto the pathway, a bright, flawless smile gracing her features.

She looked immaculate in her clean uniform, her posture projecting warmth and deep respect as she lowered her head slightly in a courteous greeting.

To any passing soldier, she looked like a dedicated, fiercely loyal retainer who genuinely adored the young miss of the Vale house.

Ayla narrowed her eyes, wondering what this annoying human was planning. The intense hatred emanating from her made Ayla blink.

Why was she showing such hatred against her? Technically for Amanda, this was her first time meeting her, as she would never remember her dying and returning.

"Ahem," Amanda cleared her throat, "I forgot to introduce myself. I am Amanda. Kenji must’ve told you about me. You know, we are so close."

"He didn’t."

Amanda’s smile stretched a bit unnaturally.

"Good morning, Amanda," Ayla replied, since this human had already greeted her. Ayla was a good-natured girl after all.

"I was just on my way to check if the kitchen had prepared your breakfast to your liking," Amanda said sweetly, her eyes crinkling with apparent affection.

Ayla couldn’t help but appreciate the woman. Her control over her emotions was almost perfect.

"The General mentioned you prefer the delicacies from the upper sectors, so I wanted to ensure everything was perfect before our deployment."

She stepped closer, reaching out with a gentle, sisterly hand to smooth down a stray silver thread on Ayla’s lapel.

Her touch was soft, her expression a portrait of pure, unadulterated devotion.

Yet, beneath that polished, smiling facade, the residual fluctuations of Amanda’s mind were broadcasting a completely different frequency.

Ayla caught the trajectory of her inner thoughts instantly, clear and sharp.

’Look at this little freak, standing there like she owns the place,’ Amanda’s inner voice sneered, the thoughts dripping with a toxic, deep-seated malice.

’An illegitimate daughter will never have any real value in the General’s eyes. A mistress’s bloodline is nothing but garbage in the high houses. If not for this lucky bitch somehow surviving an apocalypse tunnel and obtaining a Celestial Vessel, she would still be rotting in the dirt of the outer walls.’

Amanda’s smile grew even wider, her eyes shining with false warmth.

’Just a tool,’ the rotten thoughts continued to echo. ’The only reason the Vale house even looks at her is because of her strength. The moment her talent stagnates, the old man will discard her like a spent mana crystal. And Kenji... please. He only keeps her close because she is a useful weapon for his own path.’

Ayla stood perfectly still as Amanda finally pulled her hand away, still beaming.

"If you need anything else before the vanguard shuttles launch, please do not hesitate to command me, Lady Ayla," Amanda murmured softly, giving another respectful bow.

"I do not need anything," Ayla said.

She offered a concise nod and walked past her, continuing down the stone path toward the courtyard.

Amanda remained behind, watching her silver braid retreat with an expression that remained beautifully polite to the naked eye, while her mind continued to vomit waves of silent jealousy.

As Ayla walked away, a rare, unfamiliar sensation began to ripple through her core.

Her golden eyes lowered to the flagstones beneath her boots.

For the first time since she had arrived in Solgrace, a wave of internal confusion overrode her logical processors.

She did not care about Amanda’s insults regarding her fake identity as a mistress’s daughter.

To a Mimic Slime, human bloodlines and societal hierarchies were completely obsolete data points.

She didn’t care about Roric’s validation either; she already knew her relationship with the old General was based on a fake mask.

That might change at any time.

But Amanda’s thoughts about Kenji stuck in her database like a corrupted file.

’He only keeps her close because she is a useful weapon.’

Not that she cared....well.

’Is that so?’

Ayla’s jaw tightened slightly, her pace slowing down. Her logical mind began to analyze her entire history with Kenji.

When they first met in the dark tunnels, she had eaten his brain. He had regressed. He had tried to kill her, and she had outmaneuvered him.

It was only after she displayed the capacity to adapt, to absorb legendary talents, and to match his stride that he had stopped viewing her as a parasite and started calling her his sister.

Was that the true parameter of their bond?

If her vessel suddenly lost its [Perfect Assimilation] talent, if her Apocalypse Core shattered and she became nothing more than a common, squishy slime crawling through the mud, would he still look at her with that same intense, protective gaze?

Would he still let her sit on his stomach, or would he simply squeeze her core until it popped, erasing the mistake from his timeline?

The concept of being viewed strictly as a utility, a weapon to be utilized and discarded upon failure, created an uncomfortable, heavy weight within her chest.

It was an inefficient feeling. It distorted her logic.

She finally reached the edge of the training courtyard.

Kenji was standing near the weapon racks, his dark vanguard armor reflecting the grey morning light.

He was systematically cleaning the edge of his blade with a treated cloth, his movements rhythmic and disciplined.

Sensing her approach, his hazel eyes shifted toward her.

He didn’t say a word, but the slight, cautious tension in his posture showed he was immediately tracking her mood.

Ayla stopped a few feet away, her eyes fixed on his face, searching for the hidden data beneath his skin.

"You look dense," Kenji said aloud, throwing the cloth onto the wooden rack and sheathing his blade with a sharp, metallic click.

"What happened? Did Grandpa overtalk you?"

Ayla did not answer immediately. She walked closer, her golden eyes entirely devoid of their usual clinical indifference, replaced instead by an unreadable scowl that made her brows knit tightly together.

"Kenji," she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, serious register.

"Yeah?"

"If I am weak," Ayla said, stepping directly into his personal space and staring straight into his eyes.

"If my core breaks, and I can no longer help you... would you leave me behind?"

Kenji blinked, entirely caught off guard by the sudden, existential nature of the question.

He looked at her scowling, puffed-out face, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to facepalm right there in front of the drilling squads.

"What kind of ridiculous question is that?" Kenji muttered, crossing his arms over his chest armor. "Who have you been talking to?"

"Answer the question," she demanded, her gaze sharpening as she stepped even closer, her boots practically touching his.

"Am I only valuable to you because I am a strong weapon?"

"If I said yes?"

"I will eat you."

"If I said no?"

"I will still eat you."