The call was unexpected.
Especially for soone who had been happily tailing his boyfriend, loudly insisting that everything his good brother made would definitely be good.
But of course, they went back after being sought out, with Ollie suddenly blurting out, "Brother! Is sothing wrong?" His wide eyes scanned left and right like a watchdog, because Luca’s hesitant expression had to an danger, right?
"Well, brother," Luca said at last, his golden eyes flickering shyly, "rember the surprise I was working on? I’ve finished the parts I could do alone, but for us to actually complete it, I’m going to need your help with this." He gave a nervous little grin.
Surprise.
A word that was definitely within the Top Ten of Ollie Mylor’s all-ti favorite words. His brain lagged for one second before he nearly took flight, squealing so loudly that Kyle instinctively stiffened for battle.
"SURPRISE?! REALLY?! You an it, brother?!" Ollie gasped, now clutching Luca’s hands with the desperate intensity of a man clinging to the edge of a cliff.
"Yes, brother," Luca said, trying not to laugh at him. "Actually, I should apologize. This took longer than I expected. We tried several iterations to make the load manageable. After all, with sothing like this, I had to check in with Kyle first."
"Huh? Kyle?" Ollie blinked innocently, like soone hearing the word "responsibility" for the first ti.
Luca only nodded, then extended a space button toward Kyle.
But to Ollie’s complete shock, Kyle didn’t keep it. He handed it straight to Ollie.
"EH???"
Ollie’s shriek ricocheted across the room. His head whipped between Luca, Kyle, and the seemingly glowing space button in his palm like he’d just been handed the fate of the Empire by accident.
That reaction was enough to make everyone else stop what they were doing. Heads turned. Conversations died. And just like that, Ollie’s parents, who had already gone through more shocks in one day than should be legal, found themselves staring yet again.
Marquis Osmond Mylor was the first to pale. His earlier ntal preparation, the one he swore would help him withstand any outrageous event in the dungeon, was apparently being tested again.
Today’s revelations had already included learning about his son’s secret relationship. Then ca the ordeal of actually handing him over. Then ca the shock of the auction items, the new biochas, the endless arsenal.
But this?
This was the very sudden, completely unanticipated scenario of his child becoming... a pseudo-cha pilot?
The Marquis clutched at his chest. Was he really still in the land of the living?
Probably not.
Because surely, their little Ollie wasn’t about to pilot one of those giant masterpieces?!
Well. Apparently, not entirely.
Because in a sense, Oliver Mylor—sworn brother of Luca Soren Kyros, self-proclaid cutest chanic alive—was about to add a brand new title to his collection.
He might actually be the very first person in history to call himself...
...the cutest companion cha pilot.
And considering the stunned silence echoing through the chamber, he was probably also the only one. Absolutely no competition there.
In front of everyone stood a cobalt blue dium biocha, its proportions sharp and lean like a duelist sculpted for precision. Every line was streamlined, sleek, and efficient. But no one cared about the fra.
Because the wings stole everything.
Vast crystalline structures shimred like sculpted blades of light, spreading wide behind it in a display so dazzling that even the most seasoned onlookers forgot to breathe. Beautiful. Intimidating. And, above all, unusual.
dium chas could have wings, yes, but they were typically slim auxiliary ones designed for agility or stealth. Or sotis, they’d exist solely because a certain designer—such as D-29— would insist on aesthetics. But this? These wings were entirely out of place.
And that was because Luca had made a decision.
A companion cha.
At first, Kyle’s biocha lood like a blue seraph, its nine vast feathered wings stretched wide, scattering light in shards like broken rainbows. The wings shifted, folding inward as though the cha itself was drawing breath. One by one, each segnted plate contracted, radiant "feathers" locking together into armored blades.
Then ca the sound. A deep chanical resonance. A thrumming that reverberated through the hangar, rattling spines. Energy veins along the wings flared brighter.
With a decisive snap, the entire wing structure began to pull free from the biocha’s spine.
What looked like ornantation—a re flourish of plating—wasn’t.
The wings detached.
And with them, so did the soul of Master Quinn, who actually staggered and clutched at his chest, while Ollie’s knees turned into jelly as he slumped into Kyle’s arms.
In a single heartbeat, the wings contorted midair, folding and twisting with the precision of sothing that had always been ant to transform. The blades compressed, rearranging into a new chassis. From radiant feathers ca six jointed limbs, clicking open with insect-like grace. Major parts collapsed into a sleek carapace, crimson optics sparking awake like a predator’s glare.
What had been part of the cha’s silhouette seconds ago now stood beside it.
A smaller butterfly-hexapod biocha, cobalt-blue and humming with its own reactor. Alive. Separate. Watching.
The hangar was silent.
And then the little hexapod started moving.
Walking.
Running.
Before lunging—straight at Luca.
"!!!"
Xavier moved faster than anyone had ever seen, instantly positioning himself in front of his wife, spiritual energy flaring. The entire room tensed, hands twitching toward weapons.
But just as quickly, the charging hexapod stopped short. Its optics pulsed once in recognition. Luca peeked out from behind Xavier, grinning sheepishly.
"Sorry, everyone! I’m realizing most of you are seeing this for the first ti. Let introduce you. This is D-64’s new body."
The words cracked through the silence like lightning.
"And today," Luca added brightly, "we’re hoping to see if we can successfully proceed with this." He called silently to D-29.
"Host, are you already planning to try the experint?" the little system asked in his mind.
"Yes. Please proceed with the promotion."
"Right away, Host!"
And then, right in front of the already trembling Ollie, a holographic prompt appeared.
[Congratulations! You have been offered a promotion to Dungeon Manager. Accept?]
[YES]
[NO]
"Huh???" Ollie’s eyes bulged, tears pricking as he whipped toward Luca for answers.
Luca nodded encouragingly, his golden eyes soft.
With trembling hands, Ollie clicked on YES.
Light engulfed him in an explosion of brilliance. Everyone flinched, shielding their eyes—then just as suddenly, the light vanished. And Ollie was left blinking at another prompt showering confetti.
"!!!"
"B-Brother! What’s happening?!" Ollie yelped, his mind spinning in circles, as phantom confetti popped and rained around him even though there was clearly nothing in the hangar.
"Now, brother," Luca said calmly, "please try telling D-64 to hover."
"H-huh? Hover?!" Ollie repeated in panic, but obeyed anyway.
And the impossible happened.
The hexapod biocha rose off the ground, hovering as though gravity had just decided it wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.
"What the—?!" voices cried out, echoing over one another.
But Luca only smiled. He tossed a chunk of ore high into the air. "Brother, now think of opening inventory."
Ollie blinked, confused, but did it.
And as the ore hit its apex, D-64 snapped it up.
The object vanished.
A half-second later, Ollie scread. "IT’S—IT’S IN THE INVENTORY?!"
He clutched at his chest, his eyes filling with tears as more confetti showered him.
He had dreams. So many dreams.
And today, his good brother had fulfilled a major one.
Oliver Mylor—Dungeon Guardian mber, sworn brother, budding chanic, exam passer, and in a real relationship—was now officially sothing new.
The Empire’s newly promoted, shalessly-assisted, most excitable looter.
And his poor giant boyfriend?
Well, Kyle was now officially the designated enabler who would take them to heights they had never seen.
User Comments
0 comments from readers