On the third day after Wotan's activation.
Starfire Training Base had been transformed beyond recognition.
Eden's spending power had been pushed to its absolute limit over these five days of leave.
The rusted sheet-metal training sheds that had stood there before were all torn down.
In their place rose three brand-new reinforced-concrete complexes: a climate-controlled indoor training hall, and a physical-fitness testing center fitted out with a full suite of Anti-Entropy's cutting-edge technology.
There was also a simulator training zone spacious enough to house six Titan mechs.
When the new recruits first walked into the renovated base, the whole group stood frozen for a full ten seconds.
Someone muttered under their breath, "Is this a training base or a five-star hotel?" — and was instantly nailed to the spot by a single glance from Rita behind them.
The intensity of the training hadn't eased in the slightest despite the hardware upgrades.
Quite the opposite — the new equipment meant more precise data monitoring and more efficient wringing-out of every ounce of stamina.
But this round of training differed from the last in one notable way.
The instructor roster had expanded.
Siegfried Kaslana and Cecilia Schariac.
These two top-tier S-rank Schicksal agents had, at Su Yu's arrangement, officially been enrolled into Starfire Base's instructor lineup.
Su Yu had no intention of letting such top-grade combat power go to waste once it landed in his lap.
Siegfried took charge of close-quarters combat and live firearms drills.
His teaching style was nothing like Rita's.
Rita was the type to knock you flat first and explain what you'd done wrong afterward. Siegfried, on the other hand, would spar with you first, then clap you on the shoulder and say, "Not bad, kid — but your third punch was off by about two centimeters."
The recruits regarded this seemingly slapdash white-haired uncle — whose every punch nonetheless landed with pinpoint precision on a vital point — with a mixture of respect and dread.
Cecilia was responsible for stealth, reconnaissance, and tactical planning.
Her classes weren't as lively as Siegfried's, but every recruit who'd sat through one of her lessons came out noticeably more alert during the subsequent night exercises.
That was because Cecilia had a habit that chilled everyone to the bone. Unlike Rita's smiling brand of menace, Cecilia was gentle to an almost saintly degree in daily life — gentle enough that people would blurt out, "Cecilia is exactly the kind of woman who could be my mom!"
But the moment training began, that gentleness was gone — and it was no joke.
She'd appear behind you without a sound, right when you'd let your guard down completely, press a single finger against the back of your neck, and tell you, in that same gentle tone, "If this were a blade, you'd already be dead."
That line became everyone's nightmare.
As the saying goes, revisiting the old teaches the new.
In the process of teaching these young recruits, Siegfried and Cecilia found their own combat skills being honed right alongside them.
Years as field agents had left them with a vast reservoir of real combat experience, but a good deal of it had long since hardened into unconscious muscle-memory habit.
Through the process of breaking it down, teaching it, and reassembling it, details they'd long overlooked resurfaced.
Everyone was growing at an astonishing pace. For the sake of that coming apocalypse, they'd all steeled themselves and gritted their teeth.
Beyond combat training, Siegfried had also picked up a new hobby that gave everyone a headache.
He'd latched onto Welt.
The night Wotan first activated, when that twenty-meter steel giant slammed its fists together inside the hangar, Siegfried had stood on the observation deck with his eyes shining brighter than a searchlight.
From that day on, he'd been pestering Welt relentlessly.
"Old Yang! Let me try Wotan too! Just let me sit in it and feel it out! Five minutes, that's all!"
"No. Neural linkup poses a lethal risk to anyone untrained."
"What about the Titan, then? The Titan's fine, right? That smaller one looks like it'd suit my build!"
"Piloting clearance for the Titan requires three months of adaptive training."
"Three months is way too long! I want to drive it now!"
Welt pushed up his glasses, looking at this forty-seven-year-old man throwing a tantrum over wanting to pilot a mech.
"Siegfried." Welt sounded a little helpless. "Do you know why I spent over a decade building Wotan?" "To save the world?"
"No." Welt's expression didn't change. "Because piloting a mech is a man's romantic dream — but the precondition for romance is staying alive. Pass every one of Rita's basic fitness tests first, and I'll consider scheduling you an adaptation course for Wotan."
Siegfried's eyes lit up.
"You said it! It's a deal!"
Welt watched Siegfried's back as he bolted out of the meeting room like a gust of wind, picked up the coffee cup on the table, and let the corner of his mouth curl upward.
After all, what could make Old Yang prouder than having the giant mech he'd built with his own hands recognized and envied by others?
Life at the training base pressed on, day by day.
Under the rotating hammering of Rita, Siegfried, and Cecilia, the recruits were visibly transforming at a remarkable pace.
Progress at Starfire Base kept rising with the tide.
But beyond this base—
—on another continent, thousands of kilometers from Arc City—
—at the top floor of Schicksal's headquarters building.
The light in the Bishop's office was soft.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lay the nightscape of an old European city, a cathedral's spire silhouetted black against the moonlight.
Otto Apocalypse sat in his expensive leather office chair.
A few documents lay spread across the desk, beside a still-steaming cup of black tea.
The holographic comm screen before him had just gone dark.
The last frame frozen on the screen had been Cecilia's face.
The call itself had been brief.
As was routine, Cecilia had reported to Otto on her recent situation in Arc City.
Every word had been carefully chosen, every sentence carefully filtered.
She'd said what needed saying and not a single syllable more.
At the end of the call, Otto had asked her one question.
"Cecilia — do you and Siegfried both believe that what you're doing is done in the name of justice?"
On the other end of the screen, Cecilia had gone silent for two seconds. "Yes." Her answer had come crisp and clean, without a trace of hesitation.
Otto lifted the black tea and took a sip.
"I understand." Otto set the cup back on its coaster. "I trust your and Siegfried's judgment."
He paused.
"One more thing — whatever it is you two are doing in Arc City, I want you to keep little Theresa out of it. That's my bottom line. Understood?" "Understood."
The call ended. Quiet settled back over the office.
Only the pendulum of the antique grandfather clock in the corner swung on, unhurried.
The door opened quietly. Amber — Otto's secretary, and also one of the core nodes of Schicksal's intelligence network.
"Lord Otto." Amber stood before the desk, hands folded in front of her. "The call log has been encrypted and archived." "Mm."
Amber hesitated for a moment.
"My lord, if I may speak plainly." Amber raised her head. "There are substantial gaps in Lady Cecilia's reports. As for Sir Siegfried, he's stopped filing routine reports altogether. Anti-Entropy's Welt Yang has shown an unusually high frequency of activity in Arc City lately, and a large volume of procurement records point toward military-grade raw materials."
Amber looked at Otto.
"Why haven't you pressed further? With your authority, you could mobilize satellite reconnaissance and the ground intelligence network and find out exactly what's happening in Arc City within forty-eight hours."
Otto leaned back in his chair.
He didn't answer right away. Instead he reached for the black tea and took another sip.
"Amber." Otto set the cup down. "There are three reasons."
He held up one finger.
"First — the weight that Siegfried and Cecilia carry."
Otto's gaze fell on the documents spread across the desk.
They were asset reports for House Kaslana and House Schariac from the past three years.
"Those two aren't ordinary field agents. Siegfried is an S-rank Schicksal operative and the current core figure of House Kaslana. Cecilia represents House Schariac. Those two houses are the foundation this whole edifice of Schicksal is built on."
Otto tapped the desk lightly with his index finger.
"If the two of them are simultaneously choosing to hide something from me, there are only two possibilities. Either they've turned traitor — or they're protecting something, something they believe I shouldn't know about right now."
Otto looked at Amber.
"I've known Siegfried for twenty years. This is a man who'd take a bullet for his family, who'd walk to his death for a justice he believes in — but he would never betray something he truly believes in."
"If he's chosen to keep something from me, it's because, by his own judgment, hiding it protects what he cares about better than telling me would."
Amber said nothing.
Otto held up a second finger.
"Second — a problem with myself."
He picked up the teacup and watched a tea leaf slowly unfurling inside it.
"I've always considered myself a man standing on the side of justice. But precisely because of that, I know one thing very clearly."
Otto set the cup back down on the desk.
"The greater a person's power, the easier it becomes for him to mistake what he believes to be justice for the only justice there is."
He looked at Amber.
"Perhaps it's because I sit too high a seat — so high that they feel telling me the truth would only make things worse."
Amber's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.
Otto held up a third finger. "Third — a practical calculation of costs and benefits."
He rose and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
The old city's night view outside cast a blurred reflection on the glass.
"What would happen if I forced the investigation?" Otto's back was to Amber, his voice level.
"Siegfried and Cecilia would be forced to choose between Schicksal and Anti-Entropy."
"Both great houses might split away from Schicksal's system as a result. The radicals within Schicksal who've been waiting for a chance would seize on it immediately, demanding a purge of everyone who's had any contact with Anti-Entropy. And what would the end result be? An organization in turmoil, morale in tatters."
Otto turned around.
"And besides." There was something else in his tone now. "Being left out of the loop does sting a little, I admit. But if it's Welt..."
The corner of Otto's mouth twitched. "What kind of ill intentions could a man have who, at his age, still spends every day dreaming up mech-anime schemes?" Amber blinked, caught off guard.
"Who knows — maybe he really has gone and secretly built himself a mech."
"Alone in some dim, damp basement, hunched over blueprints for over a decade — all so that one day, when the disaster he's sensed coming finally arrives, he can climb into the cockpit and fight it with his own two hands." Otto gazed out the window.
"If Anti-Entropy really is doing something important, my digging around could easily spook them into action and throw their whole plan into disarray."
He turned back and sat down in his chair again.
"If I don't investigate, the worst case is that I'm kept in the dark, knowing a bit less. If I do, I might overturn the whole board — and the end result could be everything falling apart."
Amber lowered her head, taking in his words. "Of course—" Otto's voice suddenly changed.
"—there's one more point, the most crucial and most important of all."
Otto crossed his hands, fingers interlaced, resting on the desk. "Amber." Amber looked up.
"What do you think would be the first reaction, once too many factions simultaneously got their hands on information about an impending disaster?"
Amber thought it over. "Unite as one, and face it together?"
Otto looked at her. "Unite?"
He shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, it isn't unity — it's a scramble for control."
Amber's expression shifted.
"Once righteous people get their hands on too much information, they act on decisions they believe are correct."
"But the question is whether the justice I see and the justice they see are truly the same justice. That's an entirely separate matter."
Otto stood up.
He walked to the window again, hands clasped behind his back.
Outside, the old city had sunk completely into night. Far off, a single lonely light burned atop the cathedral's bell tower.
"Schicksal is a vast organization." Otto's voice echoed through the empty office. "If a great disaster truly is coming, mobilizing Schicksal's resources to face it would mean the leadership knows, the intelligence division knows, every branch office in every country knows."
"A circle of hundreds, even thousands, in the know."
Otto turned his head to look at Amber.
"The probability of that information leaking to the media within three months is close to a hundred percent."
"And once that information reaches the public, do you think the consequences would be as simple as panic?"
He paused. "No. It would be a civilizational-scale collapse of order."
"Global stock markets would wipe out two-thirds of their value within twenty-four hours. Governments the world over would grind to a halt as they shoved blame back and forth at each other."
"Religious extremist groups would seize on it as the trumpet call of Judgment Day, stirring up riots across the globe. Doomsday cults would spring up everywhere like mushrooms after rain."
Otto's gaze settled on the cathedral's bell tower outside the window.
"Humanity might well tear itself apart before the actual disaster ever arrives."
Amber's breath caught for a beat. "Are you saying—"
"I certainly won't give up pursuing the truth." Otto turned and walked back to sit down at his desk. "But from this point on, this matter will be Schicksal's highest-level classified operation."
He looked at Amber.
"I don't want anyone else knowing more than they need to — no one beyond you and those few S-rank agents."
Otto's gaze was calm. "Understood, Amber?" "Understood, Lord Otto."
Amber gave a formal Schicksal salute and turned toward the door. Just as her hand touched the doorknob — "Amber."
She stopped and looked back. "On your way out, fetch me that bottle of '82 Lafite from the wine cabinet."
Amber blinked, but didn't ask questions. She walked to the wine cabinet in the corner of the office, took out the dark bottle of red wine and a crystal glass, and set them on Otto's desk.
"Will there be anything else?"
"No. Go get some rest."
Amber nodded, pushed the door open, and left. The door swung softly shut behind her.
Otto was alone in the office now.
He picked up the bottle of wine. The label had already begun to yellow with age.
With practiced ease, Otto worked the corkscrew free and slowly poured the deep-red liquid into the crystal glass.
The wine clung to the sides of the glass in a thin red film.
Otto lifted the glass, rose, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
The night outside was deep.
In the distance, the city lights strung together along the horizon into a hazy ribbon of glow.
"Welt Yang." Otto raised his glass toward the endless night beyond the window.
"Siegfried Kaslana."
The wine swirled gently in the glass.
"And my proudest [student], Su Yu."
The corner of Otto's mouth lifted slightly.
"Shutting an old friend like me out in the cold."
He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.
The Lafite opened on the palate with notes of ripe blackcurrant and cedarwood.
The finish lingered long, carrying just a trace of bitterness.
"I do have feelings too, you know."
The pendulum of the antique grandfather clock swung on, unhurried, in the empty office.
Outside, the lone light atop the cathedral's bell tower burned through the whole of that deep night.
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