At this moment, Kaito's consciousness drifted freely across a boundless sea of stars — a domain shaped by his Emperor Engine, manifesting within a higher dimension.
Beneath his feet, a brilliant galaxy flowed like a river of light. Each star shimmered faintly, representing a source of hostility marked by the Emperor Engine.
In the center of that cosmic sea flickered the majestic phantom of the Heavenly Emperor — the projection of Kaito's soul origin, pulsing faintly with divine authority.
At the edge of the starry ocean, a jade-like vine took root in the void, glowing softly. It was the materialized form of Sykes's soul. From its stem bloomed crystalline flowers, each petal radiating a delicate psychic aura.
Nearby, a swarm of pink blood mosquitoes danced across the astral expanse — the spiritual manifestation of Mosquito Girl's soul. They twirled gracefully, forming hearts, spirals, and bursts of radiant patterns, like fireworks blooming in silence.
Kaito's will brushed gently against both the vine and the mosquito swarm. Instantly, he felt two intimate ripples of spirit — the familiar warmth of two souls now deeply entwined with his own.
Under the Emperor Engine's immense transformation, both women's souls had become bound to his origin, eternally tethered yet retaining their independent wills. The connection was deeper than any contract, more sacred than any vow.
After soothing their slightly agitated consciousness — stirred by their sudden surge in power — Kaito turned his focus toward the stars representing hostility.
Most of them were insignificant.
There were the keyboard warriors who mocked "King" online, the second- and third-rate heroes jealous of his S-Class ranking, the small-time thugs he had once taught a lesson.
Such ant-like hostilities were beneath notice. He filtered them out instantly.
Only two stars burned brighter than the rest.
The first revealed Metal Knight, Bofoy, furiously orchestrating the reconstruction of A-City inside his lab. Every time the mad scientist issued a command, his jaw clenched, and he hissed through his teeth:
"Damn King!"
Kaito chuckled softly at the sight. There was no need to punish him through the "internet cable."
He knew Bofoy too well — a rational egoist, ruled by calculation rather than passion. Once he understood that resistance brought only loss, he would submit willingly, more obedient than anyone.
The second star, however, made Kaito laugh outright.
Inside Sykes's laboratory, chaos reigned. Two identical blue-haired women sat back-to-back on the floor, panting and glaring.
"You ungrateful wretch! Without me, there would be no you!" Sykes snarled.
"An old maid is still an old maid — even your insults are outdated!" her Clone snapped back, just as fierce.
Their robes were torn and disheveled, pale skin flashing through ripped fabric. Yet even in exhaustion, neither would yield.
Their emerald and violet eyes burned with mutual hatred — but when they glanced toward the cultivation pod in the corner, shimmering with nutrient fluid, their anger found a common target.
Though they fought bitterly over which of them was the "original," their shared hatred for Kaito united them completely.
(After all, both had sprung from the same soul.)
"Enough!" Sykes shouted, forcing herself upright. "Now is not the time for infighting! That damned King must pay! The plan must be executed!"
The Clone crossed her arms, brushing dust from her flawless skin.
"Agreed."
Together, they approached the cultivation pod. Inside floated a perfect body — their next vessel. Yet when it came time to decide who would pay the price to awaken it, silence fell.
"Hey, old maid," the Clone taunted, "you've got more experience. Why don't you do it again?"
"You—! Bastard!" Sykes's chest rose and fell sharply, fury blazing.
Invisible psychic sparks crackled between them.
Finally, the Clone's tone cooled.
"Let's compromise. We each cut off a portion of our soul fragments and merge them before injecting. The total remains the same — the risks are shared."
She pointed toward the form floating in the pod — the Unlucky Bag, as they called it.
"Fair deal. Equal cost."
Sykes hesitated, calculating. It was indeed the most "reasonable" solution. After all, she had never considered implanting another's soul into a body identical to her own.
"Fine," she conceded. "But the Third Eye's core authority is mine alone. She only needs our memories — nothing more."
Her gaze hardened. She would never allow another being capable of rebelling against her to exist.
The Clone smirked.
"Just as I wanted. An obedient tool doesn't need the will to resist."
At this moment, within the sea of stars—
"Pfft... hahaha!"
Kaito couldn't help but burst into laughter. Watching the scene unfold, he shook his head in amusement.
"They're even fighting amongst themselves. Truly... foolish beauties."
As for Sykes's revenge plan, he wasn't the least bit concerned.
The monster cells derived from Orochi could indeed infect others and transform them into monsters—but only because Orochi's body possessed a higher life level, capable of eroding downwards into weaker beings.
Once those cells lost their activity—or if the target's life level surpassed their own—they became nothing more than... high-protein nutrients.
Unfortunately for Sykes, Kaito's life level had long since exceeded Orochi's after the Emperor Engine's latest evolution.
If that foolish beauty dared to try a honey trap, he would make sure she lost both her wife and her army—a total defeat.
In the laboratory, the two Sykes had finally reached a consensus.
"Are you ready?" the original Sykes asked through clenched teeth.
"Less talk," the Clone replied coldly. "Let's begin."
They endured the excruciating agony of soul-splitting, their fingertips condensing fragments of essence—one deep purple, the other light violet—each flickering like fragile flames.
Simultaneously, both pressed their fingertips against the transparent wall of the cultivation pod.
The soul fragments slid through the barrier like living creatures, merging into the body suspended within the nutrient fluid.
A heartbeat later—
The body's eyes snapped open.
Twin pupils of pure black—void of Sykes's emerald or the Clone's violet—stared blankly ahead, deep and endless, like ink pooling in eternity.
"Ugh—ah!"
The newborn Unlucky Bag clutched her head, writhing in pain.
Memories surged like a tidal wave—Sykes's experiences, the Clone's bitter consciousness, and their mutual hatred toward King—all flooding her fragile mind at once.
But something crucial was missing: the core authority of the Third Eye.
The cultivation pod hissed open, draining the nutrient fluid away in a steady stream.
The girl collapsed onto the floor, gasping, coughing violently.
Sykes looked down coldly.
"Remember your mission."
The Clone folded her arms, sneering.
"Don't disappoint us, tool."
The Unlucky Bag slowly raised her head. In her bottomless black eyes flickered a trace of grievance and unwillingness, but it was quickly extinguished beneath the weight of obedience.
Her trembling fingers reached out to take the metal antidote from the table.
"I... I will complete the mission," she whispered—her voice soft, submissive, utterly devoid of the sharpness her creators once held.
Sykes nodded approvingly, tossing her a student uniform.
"Put it on. Leave immediately. King should be in Z City by now."
The Unlucky Bag dressed silently. The loose uniform couldn't conceal her elegant curves, but she didn't seem to notice.
Head bowed, she walked toward the exit—like a wronged little wife being sent into exile.
Only when her figure disappeared down the corridor did Sykes and her Clone finally exhale in relief.
"Finally settled," Sykes murmured, rubbing her temples.
The Clone glanced sideways.
"Let's hope this tool is competent."
Sykes's lips curled.
"Hmph. As long as she gets close to King, half of our plan succeeds."
The two exchanged a rare smile—united, if only briefly, in their scheming.
After all, even if the plan failed, the only loss would be a disposable Clone.
As for themselves? They would remain in the shadows, biding their time... waiting to reap the spoils.
And the fragments of their depleted souls?
Those could always regenerate—thanks to the nature of the Third Eye.