W immediately spoke into her ear. "Pei Ran?"
"Still alive," Pei Ran replied in her mind. "I suddenly couldn't move. This has to be that guy's doing. He attacked me like that—doesn't that qualify him as a Level 15 threat at least?"
W's tone was apologetic. "Causing only minor injury is preliminarily classified as Level 5 violent behavior. Dealing with low-level crimes like this requires either a folding arm with good grip strength or a tranquilizer gun. Unfortunately, I have neither. I'm sorry, Pei Ran."
Pei Ran: "…"
She focused, trying to summon the green glow in her mind.
It had been working fine last night—she had even managed to conjure a small fragment of a medicine box. But now, it seemed dormant, refusing to respond.
The soft rumble of wheelchair wheels on the floor approached. The black rubber tires came to a stop right in front of Pei Ran.
She tried to lift her head to see, but her entire body felt frozen. She couldn't make even the smallest movement—not even roll her eyes. She felt like a conscious mummy.
All she could see from the corner of her eye was the long-haired boy in the wheelchair leaning slightly forward, lowering his head to study her closely. His pale amber eyes were unnervingly strange.
When she had fallen, her sleeve had ridden up. A short length of matte black mechanical arm was now visible between her glove and sleeve.
The boy stared at the mechanical arm for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.
Someone beside him immediately got the message. Several hands reached out, roughly hauling Pei Ran up from the ground.
She was stiff as a board—horizontal one moment, vertical the next. It took others holding her up just to keep her from toppling.
As she was lifted, she caught sight of the green glow fading from the tip of the boy's drawing pen. A black notebook was open on his lap, a page covered in complex black lines—like rough comic sketches.
Unfortunately, with a flick of his fingers, he turned to a new page.
She didn't catch what was on the old one, but someone must have.
Pei Ran asked W in her mind, "Did you see what he drew just now?"
"I did," W replied instantly. "And I zoomed in and captured it. It was a comic panel—a character with a ponytail and tape over her mouth. She looked a lot like you. There was a full-body shot of you collapsed on the ground, and in the bottom right corner, a close-up of your face with foam leaking from behind the tape. Next to it was the caption: 'Sudden seizure. Body stiffened. Collapsed and unable to move.'"
Pei Ran: A close-up of me foaming at the mouth? How thoughtful of him.
So… she wasn't the only one with powers.
The difference was, hers manifested through writing. His, through drawing.
Suddenly, W said, "A Convergent."
Pei Ran didn't catch it. "A what?"
"A Con-ver-gent," W explained. "Did you notice that comic pen he's holding? The green light on the tip—that means he's a Convergent."
He knew about the green glow?
W continued, "The existence of Convergents is a classified matter within the Department of Defense and National Security. But under the current circumstances, I suppose it's okay to tell you.
"Roughly 700 million kilometers from here, near the fifth planet, there's a spatial rift—"
Pei Ran: Brother, I'm still frozen here. Are you planning to start from the Big Bang?
Most of her astronomy knowledge came from old books in backup storage. In her world beneath the surface, the fifth planet, 700 million kilometers from their home planet, was a massive giant—over a thousand times the size of their own.
Apparently, this world had a fifth planet too. The two worlds aligned.
W went on, "About thirty years ago, abnormal energy fluctuations were detected near the rift. With them came strange green particles that seeped into our planet. Some humans fused with those particles and developed unique abilities. We call them Convergents.
"The most obvious sign of one is the occasional green glow on their limbs."
"Researchers discovered that Convergents tend to exhibit one of three traits. Dr. Ys, the first to study them for the Federation, categorized their powers as Order, Ruin, and Madness.
"Those aligned with Order are the rarest. Their powers are logical and precise—like mentally reading information from a crime scene or deciphering crumpled paper scraps."
"Those leaning toward Ruin have more destructive capabilities. For example: bending a spoon with their mind, or cracking eggs in the next room."
Sounds a bit underwhelming.
W continued, "The Federation recruited some of these gifted individuals to help with investigations and special missions. The results were impressive."
"But there's a third category—Madness." His tone darkened. "Convergents in this state typically lose all human reason. Their bodies mutate. They display extreme aggression and are extremely dangerous—"
Pei Ran cut in, "You mean they turn into monsters?"
"Exactly," W replied. "The moment you see one, you'll understand. They're no longer human."
She had suspected for a while now that W knew something.
Back in the alley, she had used the word "tear" to split everything around her—including his metal sphere—into pieces. It was bizarre. Yet he never once questioned it afterward, as if it was perfectly normal.
Even yesterday, when they encountered a human security officer, he made no effort to get her to turn herself in or head to Blackwell. As if he'd already chosen to side with her.
Pei Ran had guessed then that he might know about her special ability—but just hadn't said it outright.
Sure enough, W continued, "Pei Ran, let's speak plainly. I haven't seen a green glow on you, but I've seen what you can do. In that alley, when everything around you split in two—and you alone were unharmed. Is your ability to tear things apart?"
Pei Ran: "…"
Brother… not quite.
She didn't answer. W didn't push.
"That was the first time I saw anyone with such a powerful ability," he said. "From what I can tell, your powers likely fall under Ruin."
Pei Ran: You're Ruin.
W's tone grew concerned. "I suspect the rift's energy is intensifying, and Convergents are growing stronger. That boy in the wheelchair—he can control people through his drawings. That suggests an Order-type ability. He won't be easy to deal with. Be careful."
While the two of them continued their mental exchange, the boy in the wheelchair tapped something on his wristband, pulling up a virtual screen and typing:
[Search her]
It was clear now that the four people Pei Ran had knocked down earlier weren't with them. They didn't even glance at the ones lying on the ground—only focused on searching Pei Ran.
A tall man approached, dressed strangely. A metal stud pierced his chin, anchoring a tarnished silver scorpion. The scorpion jutted diagonally from his chin, curved across his cheek, and hooked around his right ear.
The man with the scorpion on his face searched Pei Ran thoroughly. His hand paused when it touched her rigid right arm.
He lifted her sleeve slightly, as if to say: A mechanical arm.
The boy in the wheelchair rolled his eyes.
He wrote:
[I saw that ages ago. Check something else.]
Scorpion Man ignored Pei Ran's arm and continued patting her down. He found something else—pulled a pill case and two tissues from the inside pocket of her jacket, then handed them to the boy in the wheelchair.
The pill case had the name printed clearly: a common antihistamine. The boy gave it a brief glance, didn't even bother to respond.
He typed a message onto a floating virtual screen, then tilted it for Pei Ran to see:
[You've got skills. Be a waste if you died. You don't want that either, right?]
He had casually sketched her as a mummy earlier—surely he could just as casually sketch her dead.
He kept writing:
[Where are you planning to go, alone, in this situation?]
Then seemed to realize something:
[Oh, that's right. You can't move.]
He picked up the pen again.
A stream of green light flowed from his fingertip, down the shaft of the pen, collecting at the tip.
He began drawing with practiced ease.
Pei Ran immediately realized: his control over his ability was far more precise than hers. The green glow came and went at will—she couldn't manage that level of finesse at all.
He drew quickly, finishing in moments. The pen spun lightly between his fingers.
At the moment it turned, it felt as if invisible restraints around Pei Ran snapped. She could move again.
But her limbs were weak and rubbery, like all her strength had been drained. Her knees buckled and she nearly collapsed, only to be caught by someone grabbing her arm.
Her eyes shot to the sketch in his black notebook.
It was in typical comic panel style, one large panel with a smaller inset.
The main panel dominated the page: she was drawn in detail, ponytailed, mouth taped shut, looking relieved. A caption read: "That stiffness finally faded."
The corner panel showed her frowning, with a trail of thought bubbles, the largest one reading: "But I just had a seizure. I feel completely drained…"
It captured her sensations perfectly—like recovering from a severe illness, weak to the point of collapse. Her vision was going white; her legs couldn't hold her up. Even her mechanical hand couldn't form a fist.
The boy in the wheelchair tilted his chin up, still waiting for her answer.
Pei Ran barely managed to lift her arm.
Even that simple movement sent her heart racing, loud and erratic.
She tapped out a message on his virtual screen:
[I'm going to Night Sea. My family is there. I need to find them.]
She'd seen Night Sea on the map W sent today—it was a city to the northwest of White Harbor.
The boy nodded and typed a reply:
[Your family lives in Night Sea? I've been there. I remember the tallest building—Night Sea Tower, I think. There's a great observation deck at the top. Amazing view of the whole city.]
When he wrote, he wore the smirk of someone laying a trap. He even paused mid-sentence like he was calculating something. Pei Ran didn't need to think hard—he was testing her.
She raised her hand and wrote:
[Are you sure you're remembering that right?]
Then asked mentally: "W, which part of that is wrong?"
W sounded exasperated: "You challenged him before even knowing what was false?"
Pei Ran didn't care. She was sure he was full of it—only a question of which part.
W said: "The highest landmark in Night Sea is indeed the Night Sea Tower, but its upper half is entirely sealed off. There's no observation deck."
Just as Pei Ran expected. W knew everything.
The boy laying traps wasn't surprising. W, though, kept proving himself unnervingly competent.
From her ID records to the specs of a twenty-year-old forklift, to the layout of a sealed tower—this defense department robot had more knowledge than an encyclopedia. Probably several encyclopedias.
While thinking all this, she weakly tapped out more words on the screen:
[There's no observation deck at the top of Night Sea Tower.]
The boy's mouth curled up at the corner.
He typed:
[Maybe I confused it with another place.]
[My name's Shi Geye. What's yours?]
Pei Ran: So after paralyzing me and nearly making me fall, you expect me to just... chat?
She wrote on his screen:
[I'm called Ni Jie.]
(Shi Geye? Well then I'm your "姐" now.)
W immediately chimed in: "Pei Ran, 'Shi Geye' might be his real name. I've found a published comic series under that name. The art style is a perfect match."
So he could find that too. W might actually have a whole library in his head.
Then again, pen names weren't always real names.
W continued: "I've seen the name once before, in classified materials on the Silent Ones project. He participated in a neural wave experiment at the Federal Military Academy when he was two years old. He's one of them."
Pei Ran asked: "So he can hear you, like I do? You can talk to him the same way?"
W replied: "In theory, yes."
Pei Ran: "Can he hear us right now?"
Despite her mental chatter with W, Shi Geye didn't react at all.
W confirmed: "No. Signal transmission can be targeted. You subconsciously select a recipient with your thoughts; I use machine protocol. He can't hear this."
He added: "I don't intend to contact him. His name wasn't on the official Silent Ones registry submitted to the Federation. Though incomplete, it's still significant. And there's no citizen record of him in the federal database. He likely has a hidden background. Not trustworthy."
Pei Ran: So I'm a time traveler and you trust me, but you don't trust the comic guy. Nice priorities.
W added: "He was paralyzed by that same experiment."
It had cost Pei Ran an arm. Shi Geye had lost the use of his legs. Clearly a dangerous experiment.
They'd been so young. What kind of parents would allow it?
Pei Ran asked: "Why didn't he get prosthetics?"
W answered: "It's not just his legs—his spinal cord was damaged. He's paralyzed from the waist down. There's an exoskeletal brace he could use to walk again, but it's bulky and unattractive. I suspect he refuses for aesthetic reasons."
So W had noticed his refined style too.
Just then, someone brought over the backpack and metal sphere from the forklift.
Scorpion Man stepped up and searched the pack. Aside from scissors and a fruit knife, which could be considered weapons, he found nothing. He tossed the pill case inside as well.
Shi Geye glanced at the metal sphere and wrote on his virtual screen:
[Haipo, check it.]
A young woman stepped out of the crowd.
Haipo looked about Pei Ran's age. Her short hair was a vivid, fiery red—probably dyed, since her eyebrows and eyes were pure black.
A silver strip of tape sealed her mouth. She looked expressionless as she took the sphere and turned it over in her hands.
She activated her own screen and typed:
[This is a Federation Defense Department O-2F patrol bot.]
She even knew the model. Impressive.
Haipo added:
[These bots are capable of pursuit missions. They're typically controlled directly by federal security agents—no one else has access.]
Pei Ran couldn't help glancing at the orb.
Controlled directly by security agents, huh?
She asked silently: "W, anything else you're hiding?"
Shi Geye gestured for Haipo to bring the sphere closer. He leaned in, peering through a split in the shell.
The core processor inside still glowed blue.
Haipo typed again:
[The processor is still running, but communications are severely limited right now. Only image transmissions are possible. This unit is likely no longer under remote control. It's in standby mode.]
W stayed utterly still. Playing dead like a pro.
Shi Geye raised his head and asked Pei Ran:
[Where'd you get it?]
[Found it on the street. Tossed in a trash pile in an alley. Beat up and falling apart.]
Word for word, the truth.
Shi Geye didn't blink:
[So why are you carrying a Defense Department patrol bot around with you?]