Returning to the Gear & Spark workshop felt like passing through a portal to a different world. The rumble of machinery and the smells of metal and oil, which had initially felt foreign, now felt like the sounds and scents of a solid, honest reality. Azure entered through the unlocked back door, as Akari had instructed earlier, and found himself in the familiar yet cluttered small storage room.

  Akari was sitting on her high workbench, legs crossed, busy cleaning an intricate set of small sensors with a fine brush and specialized cleaning fluid. She didn't immediately look up, completely absorbed in her task. The light from the hanging fluorescent lamp above illuminated her tied-up blue hair, creating a metallic sheen within the bright blue.

  "Close the door," she said, her voice flat and emotionless while her hands remained steady cleaning the tiny connectors. "The key is to the right, just slide it."

  Azure closed the heavy iron door and slid the old bolt. The loud clack echoed in the small room. Only then did Akari turn, her sharp blue-green eyes sweeping over Azure from head to toe—still damp with drying wastewater, covered in dust and rust, his Cloak of Umbral now dull and torn in places.

  "Damn," she said, carefully placing the sensor and brush down. "You're in one piece. Really. I thought you'd become burnt frying oil in the hot waste channel or turned into charcoal by Voltter."

  "Almost both," Azure replied wearily, but a slight smile of relief tugged at the corner of his lips. "But I made it. And I brought something back."

  He reached into the hidden inner pocket of his cloak, behind the UHMWPE protective layer. His cold fingers found the hard shape of the small camera. Carefully, he pulled it out. The device looked pristine, well-protected by its design.

  Akari immediately jumped down from her bench. All her nonchalant attitude vanished, replaced by a focus so intense the air in the room seemed to change. She took the camera from Azure's hand not with a grab, but with the precision of someone defusing a sensitive bomb.

  "This is what you got?" she asked, her voice low and serious, vastly different from her usual cheerful tone.

  "See for yourself," Azure replied, taking a deep breath. His fatigue now weighed heavily on his body.

  Akari turned around and walked briskly to a corner of the room where an old bookshelf was filled with dusty technical manuals. With practiced movement, she pressed the side of a specific shelf. Click. A thin wooden panel opened inward, revealing a hidden old computer terminal equipped with several monitors and non-standard input devices. Colorful cables snaked out from within like veins.

  "A secret spot?" Azure asked, impressed.

  "Workspace," Akari corrected tersely as she plugged the camera into a special port. The previously dark main monitor screen lit up with a dim blue light, illuminating dust motes floating in the air. She typed several commands at a speed that made Azure think her fingers were machines themselves.

  Images from the camera began appearing one by one, blurry at first, then becoming clear after the software algorithms in Akari's device corrected them.

  The first image: the giant cage made of metal bars, with a blue electrical aura surrounding it like a cage of lightning. Then the second image: the creature inside. The three-story-tall monster, with dark gray scales reflecting the spotlight. The blue crystal spines on its back were clearly visible, with static electrical sparks captured as small white streaks. Third image: the creature's face. Its glowing red eyes, full of confusion and a suffering so deep, so human in its agony, that Azure felt his chest tighten again seeing it. Fourth image: Voltter on the observation platform, his usually confident smile from the screens now creased with concentration and—was that?—greed? Fifth and sixth images: console screen displays, containing biological diagrams, energy output graphs, and labels: PROJECT: RAIJIN. PHASE: 3. STATUS: CONTROL OPTIMIZATION.

  Akari viewed each image in silence. She zoomed in on details, analyzed angles, read every bit of fine print the camera had captured. Her usually expressive, animated face was now like a stone mask, only her jaw muscle twitching occasionally.

  "Raijin," she murmured finally, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice was hoarse. "God of thunder and storms. An ambitious name. I'd heard rumors about this project… from people talking in bars after too many drinks. But I thought it was just nonsense, frustrated conspiracy theories. This… this is crazier than I imagined."

  "They are creating monsters, Akari," said Azure, his voice trembling despite his effort to control it. The old anger began to boil again. "They're not just letting attacks happen. They are actively torturing, engineering living creatures just to create threats they can 'defeat' on camera. My father… he might have just been a casualty of a scheme like this that's been running for years."

  "And it's not just for show and ratings," added Akari, her eyes still glued to the energy diagram on the screen. Her finger pointed to a graph showing electrical sine waves. "Look at this energy data. They're trying to link or synchronize that monster to the city's power grid system. Imagine, 'Oil'. Imagine if they can create a 'monster attack' programmed to strike a specific power plant… then their prepared heroes, who know the system's weaknesses exactly, come to solve the problem just in time. That's not just boosting ratings or getting ad contracts. That's total control. They could blackout the city whenever they want, then become the heroes who bring the light back."

  The reality Akari laid out made Azure's stomach churn and his head feel light. This wasn't just about money, fame, or even narrative. This was about dominating every aspect of city life—security, energy, comfort—by creating false crises and being the only solution. It was a cycle of forced dependency with an unimaginable level of evil.

  "We need to take this to Nox," Azure said, trying to cling to procedure. "This is the concrete evidence we need. More than just reports or old documents. This is visual proof of an ongoing crime."

  "Yeah, of course," Akari answered, swiveling her old chair to face Azure fully. Her stone-mask expression cracked, revealing the worry and fighting spirit underneath. "But you know what Nox will say? 'Keep it safe, wait for the right time, gather more evidence, don't be rash.' I know her. She's a very patient planner. Too patient. While creatures like these…" she pointed again at the image of the suffering lightning monster, "...they are suffering now. Today. And tomorrow or the day after, the Federation will use them, or their other experiments, to make more people suffer. The time we're waiting with is lives, Azure. The life of that creature and maybe the lives of ordinary people in some district that will be sacrificed."

  "So what do you propose?" Azure asked, wearily sitting on a wooden stool opposite her. The weight of the choice felt heavy on his shoulders.

  "We need direct action," said Akari, leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with a burning intensity. "But not frontal. We're not heroes attacking a base. We leak this. But not to mainstream media—they're controlled by the Federation down to the marrow. We leak it to the underground network. To scavenger gangs whose livelihoods it affects, to independent technical communities still holding on, to old-timers who remember Zapire before the Federation, to anyone who still has common sense and hates the lies. Let this truth spread from the bottom, word of mouth, from dark terminal to dark terminal. Make the Federation sweat from the inside, make them panic and maybe make a mistake."

  Azure considered. It was high risk. A leak like that could trigger a massive manhunt by the Federation in Zapire. It could endanger Akari, Kaito, and their underground network. But the idea of truth spreading like wildfire across dry grass, unpredictable and unstoppable… was tempting. It felt like action, not just reaction.

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  "But photo evidence alone might not be enough," Azure finally said, trying to think as Nox had taught—strategically, carefully. "They could say it's edited, a hoax from haters. We need more than just photos. We need context. Raw data from their servers. Audio recordings of Voltter's commands. Experiment logs. Nox has contacts—data analysts and digital forensics experts—who can parse this information and prove forgery and malicious intent irrefutably."

  "And I know someone who can plant a worm or extract data directly from the Federation's local servers in Zapire," Akari chimed in, a sly, confident grin appearing on her face. "A genius hacker—call him 'Specter'. He used to work for the Federation as a cybersecurity analyst, until he found something that made him run and hide. Now he lives in the shadows, hacking corrupt databases to survive. He hates the Federation more than you and me combined. He'd be willing, even happy, for a chance to mess with their systems, especially to expose a secret project."

  A plan began to take shape between them, like a series of wires connecting. An unexpected yet strong partnership: Azure, the trained shadow with access to Nox's network and infiltration skills; and Akari, the genius mechanic with deep understanding of Zapire, her extensive underground connections, and invaluable technical ingenuity.

  "We do this in stages," Azure's plan started to form. "First, we send a secure copy to Nox via the emergency channel. Second, you contact 'Specter', see if he can access the Project Raijin servers. Meanwhile, I'll try to observe more closely, maybe find physical security weak points or shipment schedules."

  "I agree," Akari nodded. "But tomorrow. Right now…" she stood up and stretched, her joints popping. "...you need to rest. And a shower. You smell like a mix of electrocuted sewer, wet rust, and fear sweat. Not pleasant."

  Azure chuckled softly, actually smelling his sleeve. He grimaced. "You're not wrong."

  "Here," Akari opened a small cabinet and tossed him a clean gray towel and a set of simple work clothes—faded dark green cargo pants and a plain black t-shirt with a few faint oil stains. "Shower in the small cubicle at the back. The water's warm, 'cause I use a recycled heat system from the workshop's machine waste. Energy efficient and effective. After that…" she looked at Azure, and for a moment, her tough demeanor softened, "...my treat for a meal. Successful mission, still alive, that sort of thing."

  Azure was surprised. "Treat? You don't have to…"

  "Yes, I do!" Akari cut him off, hands on her hips. "It's tradition. You just completed your first deadly mission and saved your life—and maybe, indirectly, mine too if they trace it back here—so that's reason enough for a meal out. And I'm hungry. I know a good place. Not fancy, no waiters in neat clothes, but the rice is hot, the dishes are plentiful, and the chili paste will bring you back to life."

  The offer, delivered in a half-commanding tone, felt genuine. And Azure suddenly realized just how hungry he was. His last meal had been dry bread that morning.

  After a refreshing warm shower—water that washed away not just grime but also the lingering tension clinging to his skin—Azure put on the borrowed clothes. They were a bit loose on his thin frame, but clean and comfortable, and most importantly, not smelling of waste. He folded his dirty cloak neatly, hiding it behind some boxes in the storage room.

  They left the workshop as dusk gave way to night. Zapire had its own beauty under twilight. Not the glaring hologram lights of Asterion, but the reddish-orange glow from factory furnaces still burning, the flickering neon signs of shops and stalls like steel fireflies, and the sky above, stained by light pollution yet still stubbornly showing a few of the brightest stars. The air felt cooler, though it still smelled of metal and smoke.

  The eatery Akari led them to was just a large tarp tent on the edge of a bustling night market. The tarpaulin tent was filled with long wooden tables and plastic stools. The lively sounds of chatter, clinking plates, and the sizzle from a large open kitchen wok filled the air with life. The owner, a burly old man with white hair and charcoal smudges on his apron, greeted them with a loud cheer.

  "Miss Akari! Haven't seen you in a while! Busy taking apart what machine now?" his voice was loud and friendly. His narrow eyes then turned curiously to Azure.

  "A stubborn living machine, Pak Joko," Akari replied with a wide smile, greeting back familiarly. "This is my new workmate, 'Oil'. Can you make us the special for two?"

  "Oil?" Pak Joko frowned, then laughed. "Alright, Oil! Sit over there, near the fan. I'll whip it up right away!"

  They sat on stools near a large, humming fan that parted the hot air from the kitchen. Akari ordered for both of them without looking at a menu—special mixed rice with crispy fried chicken, chili eggs, tempeh, vegetables, and the famously spicy sambal bawang (chili with shallots).

  When the food arrived on large stainless steel plates, the rising steam and tantalizing aroma of spices immediately made Azure's stomach rumble. They ate heartily with little conversation, both too focused on the miracle of hot, delicious food after a long, dangerous day. For the first time since leaving Asterion, Azure felt truly full and… safe, at least for the moment.

  After their plates were nearly clean and the spiciness of the sambal had sweat beading on their foreheads, light conversation flowed. Akari talked about the old portable generator she was repairing for a settlement community on the city's outskirts, whose electricity was often cut by the Federation for being 'off the official grid'. Azure listened, impressed by her quiet dedication.

  "Why are you helping me like this, Akari?" Azure asked suddenly in the middle of her story, his curiosity overriding tact. "It's… very meaningful. But it's not just because of Nox or your brother, is it? There's something else."

  Akari sipped her plain warm tea, watching the steam rising from the cup for a few moments. A small, uncharacteristically soft, more honest smile appeared on her lips.

  "Zapire is a tough city, 'Oil'," she said, her voice lower. "People here work hard, get their hands dirty, live off what they can assemble or fix. But once, before the Federation logged everything in databases and exclusive contracts, this was a city with self-respect. We built things from scratch. Turbines, generators, even the first parts for the regional power grid. Real creations. Now? We're just cheap parts suppliers and skilled labor for Asterion's luxuries. The Federation came, promised 'protection' from monsters, made 'standardization' rules, and slowly, they killed the soul of this city. Innovation gets patented by them. Small businesses are forced to close or get acquired. Smart kids only have two choices: enter the Federation academy (if their element is cool enough) or become a machine operator in their factories."

  She looked at Azure, her eyes gleaming with deep resolve. "You, with your unseen shadow power and crazy determination to expose the truth… you're like a slap in their face. Something they didn't predict, can't control, and don't understand. I like that. It feels… just. And maybe, just maybe," she added with a hint of shyness, "by helping you, I can help get a little bit of this city's soul back. Show that not everyone in Zapire just rolls over."

  The answer was sincere, weighty, and born from a life experience very different from Azure's, yet rooted in the same sense of injustice. Azure nodded slowly, understanding completely. They both, in their own ways, had something they wanted to defend: memories, justice, a city's dignity.

  "And after this Raijin business in Zapire is settled—or at least in motion," Akari continued, a mischievous light back in her eyes, "we have to go to Asterion. You need to see your own city with new eyes—eyes that already know its secrets. And I… I need to see the enemy in its own den. We'll go sightseeing. Advanced observation. See how those 'open' heroes live when the cameras are off, where they hang out, how the Federation bureaucracy moves at its heart. Like field research, right? Like what Nox would definitely teach."

  The idea was dangerous, extremely dangerous. Entering the heart of the Federation's power, not as a night infiltrator, but perhaps… as a citizen? But it also made strategic sense. Know the terrain, know the enemy's habits.

  "You'd be a very… conspicuous tourist with that blue hair," Azure teased, sipping his tea again.

  Akari laughed, her genuine, free-spirited laugh echoing amidst the din of the eatery. "I have lots of tricks! Can wear a boring brown wig, or a mechanic's helmet full of stickers. Or…" she leaned in, whispering with sparkling eyes, "...you could teach me some of your basic shadow tricks to disguise my face or make people not pay too much attention. Fair deal, huh?"

  The night ended with plans, laughter, and the feeling of a newborn friendship. Pak Joko refused payment, saying "this is a treat for surviving," and sent them home with full stomachs.

  As Azure lay on the folding mattress Akari had prepared in the corner of the storage room, wrapped in a clean blanket smelling of soap, he stared at the dark ceiling. The sounds of the city's machinery outside had quieted, leaving only the distant hum.

  He felt something new and strange: he was no longer alone. He had a mentor deep in the earth, a tough and clever ally in the industrial city, a mission with tangible evidence, and now… the prospect of returning to Asterion not as a victim or spectator, but as an agent of change with a plan and support.

  The trip to Asterion as 'tourists' or 'observers' would be an entirely new chapter. Not as Azure the invisible, bitter Null, not as 'Oil' the reckless shadow infiltrator, but as someone with a new identity, with honed power, unexpected allies, and a purpose bigger than mere revenge.

  He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a very long while, the dream that came was not of destruction, fire, or his father's lost face. The dream was vague, of two figures—one dressed in dark clothes, one with blue hair hidden under a hoodie—walking along the brightly lit sidewalks of Asterion City, passing megascreens displaying fake smiles, while the shadows at their feet moved with purpose of their own, carrying secrets that would one day make all that light go out, for good.

  (To be continued)

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