It should have been like any other day.
Sowhere out there, birds probably chirped, horns honked, water still dripped, and ti passed the sa way it usually would.
But for so reason, the Empire must not have been part of this sowhere, as it experienced a collective hiccup.
A hiccup so intense that for a mont, everything and everyone stood absolutely still.
The livestream froze.
Terminals paused mid-scroll.
And so people were certain that even their cells took a montary break.
Across the Empire, across the star systems tuned in, across living rooms, offices, classrooms, barracks, transport hubs, and even a few (several) questionable underground establishnts, the reaction was exactly the sa.
Stillness.
Absolute stillness.
On every screen stood a young cadet, eyes bright and pure, his radiant smile frad by kneeling chas and a parade road still lined with people.
And yet in the stillness of it all, sothing extre echoed in everyone’s minds.
Hello.
Hello...?
HELLO?!!!
There was silence.
A strange, suspended silence where people simply stared at their screens as if waiting for subtitles or a follow-up line.
Then it began.
A single comnt slid into the chat.
[Hello?]
And then, like a lit fuse finally reaching the end of its cord, Star Net detonated.
Everything erupted so violently that the server lights in the Star Net HQ flickered. Soone in the control tower scread. Another person dropped their drink. A senior engineer genuinely thought they were under cyberattack until he saw the logs.
It was only one word.
One polite, mild, sincere word typed over and over again in different capitalizations and with varying punctuation.
But apparently, that was enough to catapult this year’s Annual Expo opening to a new height, as beings all over the universe went crazy.
["I’M ON THE FLOOR."]
["HELLO??? HELLO??? WHO SAYS HELLO LIKE THAT AFTER ENDING AN ENTIRE PARADE?!"]
["SEND HAAAALP! I CAN’T BREATHE?!"]
However, in so faraway places and in the comforts of their own estates, several crashes could be heard.
In the elven capital, a crystalline shatter rang across the halls of a secluded estate as Prince Eren hurled a wine glass against the wall. Ruby droplets slid down the marble like spilled blood while he glared furiously at the holographic projection hovering before him.
Sure enough, there were bugs everywhere.
Luca Kyros.
Greeting the world as if he were welcoming guests into his personal domain.
Prince Eren’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the arm of his seat, tendons straining. The projection replayed Luca’s simple greeting from several angles, each one making the prince inhale sharply through clenched teeth.
"Such insolence," he muttered. "Let’s see how long he’ll be able to smile like that."
__
anwhile, in an office high above the central tower of the Federation, soone else seed to have a few feelings about it.
A hand gripped a reinforced alloy table so tightly that the surface began to crack.
"President Veyra," soone called from a respectful distance.
The cracking stopped.
Slowly, Alaric Veyra lifted his gaze toward the waiting officials who were frozen in dread. His eyes were glacial, razor-sharp, and achingly patient in a way that promised consequences.
"President, will everything be alright?" one of them dared to ask. But given what they had just witnessed, it felt like a necessary question.
Alaric heard the question. He knew exactly what they ant. But he couldn’t be bothered to answer sothing so useless.
Because on one of the feed windows, captured in perfect clarity, was Cassian’s face.
Eyes unfocused. Shoulders squared. Expression unreadable to the untrained, but to Alaric it was painfully familiar.
That was the exact gaze Cassian wore whenever he found sothing he wanted to play with.
__
But really, it was more than just play.
Because Cassian Veyra was inwardly hysterical.
It was the kind where even he would’ve laughed with his mouth open as he rembered everything earlier.
What an audacious little thing.
How bold.
How interesting.
His fingers twitched with the urge to drag them across the edge of his console, maybe even across the nearest throat, just to bleed out so of the electric thrill that rushed through him.
If he could have had his way, he would have gone on for who knew how long. The absurdity of it. The challenge of it. The bright flare of sothing worth crushing.
But he held it in.
Barely.
Because he wanted to savor this.
He wanted to see just how far they thought they could fly.
And how high they believed they could stand.
Yes.
Let them ascend.
Let them shine.
Let them burn with all their might.
Because when the ti ca, Cassian planned to be the one to decide exactly how they would fall.
__
Then again, unbeknownst to him, the line was actually long.
If the Heir to the Federation wanted a fight, he would have to queue up behind all the other guilds who were so fired up they were practically red in the face.
After all, they get it.
DG had never been a normal guild. Always on the news, always attracting the eyes and ears of everyone, including their parents, with that daycare of theirs.
Admittedly, they never thought much of them.
A guild that barely participated in missions?
mbers who were too young and yet never went to class?
Even if they had geniuses in there, what would be the use when they had no actual experience?
Sure, there was that thing about Zone Four, which sure gave them a bit of credibility with the military giving statents of support.
But as older students, how could they not know about the techniques for looking more useful? They watched the videos over and over; obviously, the mbers of DG contributed to the battle, and that was still one thing.
But nothing that really scread strong when most of it had been done by Duke Leander and the House of Kyros.
Moreover, with nine first-year students, where only five of them were even cha pilots, how exactly were they planning on dealing with the enemies who definitely dwarfed them in numbers?
Even if they pulled off every fancy move they know, they wouldn’t be able to get away with that kind of head count!
Then again, all of this could be a good thing.
Not only did they do their due diligence against the Federation, but they would also be great stepping stones, provided all the guilds could just refrain from logging on Star Net for maybe a few months.
Because sure enough, the forums and the livestream were all bombarded with comnts about DG.
It would probably take a good while to recover from that devastating greeting. Still, life must go on, and after lagging the livestream chat for the fourteenth ti, people have finally started dissecting the parade as Chairman, Lan, delivered the opening remarks.
While that was important, even the livestream coordinators couldn’t help but glance at the online discussions.
[I swear, every ti a new mber dropped, my soul left my body. By mber seven, I was hovering beside Luca.]
[The landing sequence felt like a fashion show, a military strike, and a religious experience all at once.]
[ 1]
[ 1]
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[I agree! But have you thought about sothing important? How many zeroes does one need to burn to make an entrance like that casually? Asking for my accountant.]
[How do you expect to price each cha?]
[Also, have they always known they were participating? That had to take YEARS of planning!]
[It can’t be that long. They’re only first-year students!]
[Brother above, do you understand the choreography? The timing? The SPIRITUAL PRESSURE COORDINATION? The landings always went together with their leader’s steps!]
[Ugh. I don’t know about you all, but I’m still here, wondering how all those chas tid their hits. If I had been a pilot, there would have been a weird tallic sound every so many beats.]
Everywhere one turned online, a conversation about the parade was ongoing, and while so would have found that botherso, a certain group of people were just glad that people were talking about it.
Because if they didn’t receive as many praises as humanely possible, would they even be able to go back into the dungeon space where lying in wait would be their coordinator from hell?
__
Under the sweltering sun, with sweat threatening to form along his temples, Luca stood at attention alongside the others.
Onstage, soone from the Expo Committee was passionately reciting the storied history of the event. There were ntions of unity. ntions of sportsmanship. ntions of cross-cultural understanding.
Words that absolutely should have been inspiring.
He tried to listen.
He really did.
But about five minutes in, his golden eyes drifted, his mind wandered, and a nervous thought ford before he could stop it.
"D-29... about our segnt... Were you happy with that entrance?"
A soft whirring coursed through his mind.
Not chanical this ti.
Emotional. Dramatic. A little judgntal.
The kind of whirring only a little system with unreasonable standards could produce.
Then ca the answer.
"Host," D-29 intoned, the voice crisp and strangely dignified inside Luca’s head.
"According to my preliminary scan of the reactions on Star Net, I believe I am happy with our entrance."
Luca brightened—only for the whirring to intensify.
"Considering the budget constraint of free, as well as the preparation ti of less than an hour, I could rate it as a seven out of ten."
Luca blinked.
A seven?
He tried not to twitch.
"However," D-29 continued, sounding as if it were flipping through invisible data sheets with dramatic flair,
"If the event had been held at night, thus allowing for greater contrast ratios and optimal aesthetic visibility, it could have been a ten out of ten."
The little chipmunk thought about it and could imagine what the little system was going for. But even if it wasn’t perfect, Luca was at least relieved by D-29’s assessnt.
However, soone else would beg to differ. For sharing the sa ntal space, a certain guardian cha was this close to losing it.
For a group that ca up with their routine after seeing the first segnt, how dare anyone even complain?!
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