While Kevin and Su were still trying to piece things together, Ryan had already arrived at the lab.
After changing into a white lab coat, he carried his laptop toward the spire-like building. The elevator hummed as it descended into the underground facility. A brief fingerprint scan later, a thick blast-proof door slid open, revealing a vast laboratory floor.
Instruments flickered with light; thick cables crisscrossed the floor like veins. Researchers in white coats moved briskly between stations, and at the room's center loomed a colossal machine.
Roughly three stories tall, the apparatus consisted of two massive circular constructs—one concave, the other convex—like two halves of a giant fan. This was the ring-shaped particle accelerator: a machine capable of propelling particles to near light-speed.
At the intersection of the two accelerator rings lay a vacuum tube, where those particles would collide. Their energy signatures and resultant particles were meticulously recorded by a network of detectors.
A particle collider—humanity's most powerful lens into the microscopic world.
Ryan looked up at the monument to scientific civilization. On the surface, the world's public tech wasn't much different from Earth's pre-Honkai age. But cutting-edge developments had far outpaced his old world—especially when accounting for Fire Moth's black-box tech, or the even more mysterious Imaginary Internal Energy.
Part of the reason he'd come to Chiba Academy was to stay close to Kevin. But just as important was this machine—the most advanced civilian collider he could access. It was his best shot at understanding the fundamental structure of imaginary numbers.
Science was precise. It made sense. The discovery of exotic particles had long shattered any archaic notions of "divine punishment."
"Dr. Ryan, late again." A voice called from above.
A blond man descended from the concave accelerator's upper level. He was strikingly handsome, around twenty, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a half-finished coffee.
Damian—the head of the high-energy physics team. Once hailed as the youngest-ever PhD recipient—twice over.
Ryan gave a polite nod. "I got caught up thinking during dinner. How's the setup? Can we start the run tomorrow?"
Each full-power activation of the collider consumed 500 million kilowatt-hours of electricity—nearly a million euros' worth. Daily use was out of the question. Even for Chiba Academy, running it twice a month was already generous.
Click.
The coffee cup clinked softly. Damian's sharp green eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but his expression quickly smoothed back into its usual easy charm.
"No issues. All the outdated components have been replaced. We also integrated Dr. Mei's latest parameters. According to the new simulations, we should get a 30% increase in collision speed."
Jealousy? Maybe. The gap between project leader and research assistant was a real one.
Ryan caught the undercurrent, but he wasn't interested in office politics. He believed in the truth of data—the 'fist of logic' always won in the end.
"She's brilliant. If it weren't for that equipment, Mei alone could've won the Mu Continent Engineering Award. Those old professors would be lining up to take notes."
"Yeah," Damian admitted with a reluctant smile. "She's twenty, and already untouchable. It's terrifying to think what she'll accomplish."
Despite his envy, there was real admiration in his voice. He ran his hand over the curve of the collider's metallic shell—a mix of awe and resignation.
"I'm heading to Shanghai University tomorrow. I'll leave the experiment in your hands."
"You're not staying to observe? With the speed increase, we're bound to make some breakthroughs."
Damian chuckled, tossing his empty can into the trash. "I already signed off on the report. Now it's time to cash in some reputation."
His smile was self-deprecating, but there was steel behind it.
"I'm not as talented as you or Mei. But genius can't be everywhere. If I want to shine, I've got to find a lane of my own—even if it's small."
He wasn't one to cling to coattails. He'd chosen his own road—narrow, maybe—but it was his.
Ryan turned to him, surprised. He raised a hand.
"Ambitious. I respect that. Good luck."
"Thanks. And hey—make sure you beat Mei for once, alright? We've got to defend male pride."
The two shook hands before parting ways. Ryan watched Damian disappear around the corner, then turned back to the workstation to organize his notes.
Just as he was about to begin, Damian's voice called out again.
"Oh, one more thing—Dr. Mei's looking for you. And she looks pissed."
Ryan froze.
Mei's looking for me? And angry?
His face darkened almost immediately.
Damn it. Those two idiots totally misunderstood me.
He'd only made a casual comment, but Kevin and Su probably ran their mouths, made it sound like he was terminally ill, and now Mei was furious. That woman wouldn't hesitate to dissect him if she got mad enough.
No time to lose—he had to apologize before the experiment started and locked everyone into protocol.
Ryan turned sharply and hurried down the hall, his pace brisk, like a guilty man fleeing the scene. He passed through a security door, typed in a wall-mounted code, and ducked into the second lab room on the left.
The moment the door slid shut, he collapsed into the chair, letting out a breath.
Safe. For now.
Ryan rubbed his temples. Like Su, he genuinely worried about that oddball couple. It wasn't just instinct—it was something deeper.
He pulled up the master file on his laptop: thick stacks of data from ten particle collision runs over the past six months. His expression sobered as he reviewed the latest graphs.
Even at the quantum level, Honkai energy fluctuations were rising. Barely noticeable now—but undeniably real.
And growing stronger.
The air shimmered with invisible energy. As it passed through the collider, it registered only as a fleeting spark—a brief expansion of energy, barely perceptible. But tomorrow's experiment would push collision intensity even further. The spark would grow brighter, last longer, and—just maybe—disturb space itself.
The brighter the spark, the more unstable the surrounding fabric of reality, and the greater the chance to isolate the true source of Imaginary Internal Energy—for just a thousandth of a second.
Ryan slapped the desk lightly, a sharp sound echoing in the lab. The experiment would unleash a tremendous amount of energy. Fortunately, its real-world impact was negligible. The safety systems in place were more than sufficient.
"A meaningful experiment," he murmured. "This could be a major leap in exploring the structure of Imaginary Space."
He smiled, genuinely. It was good to live in a world grounded in science. Unlike arcane theories or metaphysical mysticism, this world could be decoded through rational inquiry. Through experiments.
He closed the report and opened his personal laptop. Most of the setup work would be handled by assistants anyway, and he had time to write—a habit that had become a second profession.
"Today's chapter… Let's see—I'll introduce the third Apostle, tie it into my latest research. I'll really blow their minds this time."
A mischievous grin spread across Ryan's face. Few things delighted him more than steering his readers' imaginations exactly where he wanted them to go. He'd only just typed a few lines when—
Ding!
[Blossoming Flower]: Update today? 🥺
Persistent. He really urged him every day.
Ryan rolled his eyes and picked up his phone, sighing.
[Void]: Writing, writing. Aren't you busy? Why are you still pestering me?
[Blossoming Flower]: I am busy!
[Void]: Then busy with what?
[Blossoming Flower]: Saving the world! Don't worry, I'm a powerful, beautiful, and responsible girl. I won't disappoint you! 👊✨
Ryan nearly choked with laughter. What kind of absurd reader was this? Chin resting in his palm, he imagined the sender—probably some bearded man in slippers, typing in front of his monitor while dressed in a frilly magical girl costume.
[Void]: I suddenly feel nauseous. Give me an hour. I need to prep for tomorrow's experiment, seriously.
[Blossoming Flower]: Wait… Aren't you in Nagazora City? I'm nearby! Want to grab dinner? I've got so much to talk about. Plus, we need to hash out the Dragon arc…
Mu Continent. A top-secret military base.
A massive transport aircraft stood on the runway, propellers slicing the air. Soldiers in powered exosuits were loading containers into its belly.
The wind caught Elysia's long skirt, lifting its hem like flower petals. She stood still, one hand gripping her phone, violet eyes fixed on the screen. She wasn't impatient—just quietly waiting, a smile resting gently on her lips.
Her phone vibrated.
Elysia quickly checked it—and her smile froze.
He didn't reply with words.
He sent… a doge meme.
Her expression stiffened. She blinked, then slowly pressed the phone against her ample chest, lips curling into a smirk.
"So not only is he using me as bait, he's also a troll?"
"You know I've told you—don't use official communicators to chat about nonsense," a cold voice interjected.
Mobius approached briskly, lab coat trailing behind her. Her assistant followed, arms full of sealed equipment cases.
"What else are communicators for, if not chatting?" Elysia countered with mock seriousness, tapping her lip. "Official orders always go through proper channels anyway."
Mobius narrowed her eyes but said nothing, clearly annoyed. "Not for messaging strangers. At least you didn't leak any classified images. That's something, I suppose."
She paused, her voice lowering. "Still… that writer updated. He's pretty good. Definitely a science student."
Elysia blinked. Her eyes sparkled. She flipped to the newest chapter and read the opening lines. Then—
"Don't read too deeply into it," Mobius said dryly, watching her with arms crossed. "I'm just trying to understand your… unusual tastes. Though I still don't get why you like that whole bittersweet tone—'we are but fleeting moments,' 'a tangle of joy and sorrow'—honestly, it's all just juvenile dramatics."
There was no malice in her tone, just typical Mobius-style bluntness.
Elysia merely smiled. "But you are trying to understand me. If we can understand each other, isn't that the first step to becoming companions? Just like reading—maybe one day, we can become companions with [Void]."
"Companions?" Mobius raised a brow, amused and dismissive. "I have no interest in forming bonds with average people. They couldn't possibly understand me. None of them can grasp my pursuit."
She looked down at the tarmac, then up toward the stars.
Let them scorn what they can't comprehend. Let them call it madness. Evolution will prove them all wrong.
But she didn't voice the thought. Instead, she waved her hand, voice curt. "Enough of this. Let's go. If command changes their minds, it'll complicate everything."
"Dr. Mobius," Blanca called out anxiously. "The higher-ups were very clear: no disturbances in Nagazora City. You must show restraint."
"Disturbances?" Mobius sneered faintly. "I'm merely going to an academic conference in Australia. And while I'm at it, overseeing Elysia's vacation in Nagazora. That's all."
"You've been warned. Any unauthorized contact—especially with him—might affect your research funding."
That made Mobius pause. Her expression darkened.
"…Tch. I'll meet with whoever I want." She turned away, her voice sharp. "There are plenty of interesting people in Nagazora City."