The air shifted.

  Frontier Security.

  If the regular military was a clean blade and pirates were a dirty knife, Frontier Security was the lunatic with a crowbar—legally allowed to kick in doors on “dead-law systems.” A sanctioned problem-solving species.

  For Witches Family, they were the absolute worst kind of visitor.

  My brother used to say it with a drunk grin. “Space adventurers all eat out of the same federation bowl. Different nameplates, same issuer.”

  And now one of them was standing right in front of a combat mech.

  Somewhere inside the cockpit, the Branch Leader made a sound that was half scream, half prayer.

  “F-frontier security? Is that real? Why the hell would they be on a backwater like this!?”

  “No idea! But if we touch him, we die! Everybody—guns on him! All of them! We have this mech, Gehenna!”

  Men scrambled into the heavy mech’s hatches like rats into a drain. The energy tank on its back pulsed a warning red, and the main cannon rotated until it centered on Ahmad.

  I couldn’t take it.

  “Hey!” I yelled from behind my rock. “Run! Seriously—get out of there! That thing is bad news!!”

  Ahmad glanced toward me—only me—like he’d heard a child calling from a playground. Then, in a voice so calm it almost made my heart stop, he said:

  “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

  Handle it…?

  By yourself? Against that monster?

  The Branch Leader’s voice screamed over comms.

  “Kill him! Put him down!”

  Red-black light gathered at the cannon mouth. The mech planted its feet; the ground popped as snow and rock detonated under the weight.

  Ahmad didn’t move.

  Black snow painted his helmet and shoulders, but he didn’t take a single step back. His stillness was so steady it made my chest ache.

  “What is that… are you trying to die?”

  The instant the Gehenna’s main gun flared—

  Ahmad snapped his fingers.

  “Shiratori.”

  The white craft above him answered with a hungry hum. Light surged along its seams, and a thin, pale-blue film unfolded from between panels—like someone spreading a sheet of water through the air.

  The shot screamed for Ahmad—

  And never reached him.

  The beam hit that wavering membrane and… unraveled, dissolving into mist as if the cannon had fired into the sea.

  Every gangster on the ground shrieked.

  “Huh!? It vanished—where’d it go!?”

  “What the hell was that!?”

  Ahmad patted his shoulder once, casual as brushing off dust.

  “Variable-phase shield,” he said. “Your toys won’t break it.”

  ‘You just called it a TOY!’ the pilot roared.

  A sub-arm swung up, and an impact blade—big enough to split a truck—came down on Ahmad.

  “Crush him! Turn him into paste!”

  Ahmad shifted half a step to the side.

  That was it. A movement as thin as paper.

  The blade tore through empty air and speared into the ground with a boom that sent cracks racing like lightning. Black snow erupted in a plume.

  Ahmad sighed, genuinely bored.

  “…All strength. No control. You should watch your footing.”

  “Don’t lecture me!” the pilot howled, yanking the arm up for another strike.

  But before the blade could fall—

  The white craft spoke, sharp and clear.

  “Shiratori, deploy drones.”

  The underside split open, and a dozen small white shapes spilled out—slender drones, like a bird skeleton turned into metal and engine.

  They flashed, wings glittering like knives, and dove as one.

  They touched Gehenna’s armor and their wing tips extended into razor-thin beams—then they peeled metal open like they were licking the lid off a can.

  A long, metal-on-metal shriek cut through the storm.

  Chunks of plating sprayed into the black snow.

  Inside the cockpit, someone screamed.

  “Stop! That’s my brand-new heavy unit—GEHENNA—!”

  “Oh, please,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “It’s not yours. It’s the Family’s.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The side armor was already curling away, exposing guts—wiring, boards, coolant lines.

  Ahmad tapped something on a hidden panel.

  “Aim for the core control.”

  The drones pivoted in unison and fired hair-thin lances of light.

  The Gehenna’s knees clacked—then folded.

  The giant staggered, losing balance.

  The pilot screamed again.

  “Not yet! Air unit! Hexhawk squad—move!”

  A high, keening whine answered from above.

  I looked up.

  Through the black snow clouds, multiple-winged fighters dropped into view. Six-wing frames, flying oddly quiet, their black hulls marked with purple lines.

  Witches Family drones. Of course.

  “Ahmad! Up there!”

  He didn’t even raise his voice.

  “I know.”

  At the same time, pale light spilled from Shiratori’s back—unfurling into broad, fan-shaped wings aimed at the sky.

  I swallowed. “…No way.”

  Shiratori’s AI announced in a flat tone:

  (Anti-air pulse particle cannons deployed. Interception commencing.)

  The light-wings lashed outward, raking the sky with radiating beams.

  Hexhawks touched the streaks—

  And shattered like ice.

  One after another, they popped into glittering debris and vanished into the storm.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me… the air wing too? Instant kill?”

  On the ground, the Gehenna kept trying to fight, panic bleeding through every motion.

  “Grr—! Second mech—BLOOD! Get out here!”

  From deeper in the woods, another machine emerged.

  “Second mech!?” I sputtered. “How many of these are you hiding, Witches!?”

  The mech they called Blood was smaller than Gehenna, but its main cannon was absurdly long—so thin it looked like a spear. Inside the barrel, blue photons pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Ahmad narrowed his eyes just a little.

  “…I see. Two at once.”

  He tapped the control board inside his coat.

  “Shiratori. Prep the Warp-Edge cannon.”

  (Acknowledged. Phase alignment complete.)

  Blood raised its cannon.

  Ahmad murmured, almost kindly, “If you want to shoot, shoot. But—”

  He smiled. A sharp little curl of the mouth.

  “That round is coming from behind you.”

  “What!? What the hell does that even—”

  Blood fired.

  A torrent of light surged toward Shiratori—

  Except the next instant, space twisted.

  The beam corkscrewed and reappeared behind Blood’s back.

  “—!?”

  Blood took its own shot straight through the core and exploded from the inside out.

  Ahmad’s voice returned to calm as ever.

  “Warp-Edge. Simple handoff. Catch and return.”

  Simple? My brain screamed.

  Nothing about that was simple. Nothing about that tech felt like it belonged to Earthlings.

  Who was this man? Did he have Ancients tech? Something worse?

  Ahmad turned his gaze back to the Gehenna.

  Inside the cockpit, the voice went thin and terrified.

  “Stop… don’t come closer…!”

  Black snow dusted Ahmad’s shoulders as he walked anyway.

  “Witches Family,” he said, quiet and sharp. “If you keep this up—”

  The snow at his feet burst outward.

  “—I’ll restrain you.”

  He flicked his fingers at a terminal.

  Wires shot out in a ring around the heavy mech, snapping tight and locking its limbs. White light ran along the cables, followed by a crackling discharge.

  The Gehenna shuddered… then went limp, collapsing without another sound.

  A hatch opened. Men spilled out, coughing and shaking.

  “Stand down,” Ahmad told them. “It’s over.”

  White drones descended and snapped restraint rings around wrists and ankles, hardening into place.

  Only after he’d watched them secured did Ahmad turn back to me.

  “Well then, miss,” he said. “I’ve come to pick you up.”

  I shouted from my cover before I could think better of it.

  “Could you stop trying to sound cool only on the last line!? But… thanks…!”

  Ahmad didn’t answer.

  But he did—definitely—smile.

  For a few seconds, nobody moved.

  The storm hissed. The drones hovered. The captured men stared at their cuffs like they were waking from a nightmare. Even the Gehenna—this towering lump of violence—sat there like a dead statue, pinned by white cables that glowed faintly through the black snow.

  I was the only one still hiding behind a rock.

  Because… honestly? I didn’t know what you did after you watched a man erase two mechs like he was swatting flies.

  Ahmad waited without hurrying me. That was almost scarier than the fight.

  Finally, I forced my legs to move. I slipped out from cover, keeping my hands where he could see them. The snow crunched under my boots, and my suit’s damaged servos complained with every step—like it resented being asked to function.

  Up close, the “man in white” wasn’t actually wearing white armor.

  It was a dark suit with pale plating—clean lines, no insignia I could recognize. Snow stuck to it in soft smudges, like ash on polished stone. He didn’t look bulky. He didn’t look like a soldier.

  He just looked certain.

  “You really are Frontier Security?” I asked, because my mouth was faster than my common sense.

  “Yes.”

  That was it. No bragging, no lecture.

  I squinted at him. “You don’t have a badge.”

  He tilted his head a fraction, as if deciding whether I was being funny.

  “Do you want to see it?”

  “…No,” I admitted. “Not if it involves you pulling out a gun the size of my torso.”

  A small exhale—almost a laugh—fogged his visor. “Wise choice.”

  Behind him, one of the restrained gangsters tried to lunge. A drone snapped forward, its restraint ring brightening for an instant, and the man hit the ground like his legs had been cut out from under him.

  “Hey!” I snapped, indignation flaring on pure reflex. “Don’t—”

  Ahmad lifted one gloved finger. Not at me. At the man.

  The drones froze.

  He didn’t raise his voice when he spoke to them, either.

  “You are under arrest for unauthorized heavy weapons deployment and attempted homicide under Federation Frontier Statutes. Resist, and you will be sedated.”

  The man’s bravado collapsed so fast it was almost funny. Almost.

  I swallowed. “You can arrest them? Here?”

  “This system is classified dead-law.” Ahmad’s tone didn’t change. “Which means someone has to enforce the basics.”

  The Branch Leader—still trapped in the Gehenna’s ruined cockpit, or maybe out among the cuffed men now—let out a bitter laugh.

  “You think you can just take her?” he shouted. “She’s Family property!”

  I felt my stomach twist.

  Property.

  Even after all this, that word still had the power to put a hand around my throat.

  Ahmad turned his head toward the voice. The movement was small, but it made the entire clearing go quiet.

  “Say that again,” he said.

  The Branch Leader hesitated. Even he could hear the edge underneath the politeness.

  “…She belongs to Witches Family,” the man tried, weaker this time. “Her contract is—”

  Ahmad took a single step forward.

  “I am not interested in your paperwork.” His voice stayed calm. “I am interested in whether you understand what kidnapping means.”

  No shouting. No threats. Just… definition.

  The Branch Leader shut his mouth.

  I stared at Ahmad, then down at my hands, then back up again. My heart was doing that painful thing—like it wanted to run, but it didn’t know in which direction.

  “I didn’t call you,” I said, because I needed to say something that sounded like I still had agency. “So why are you here?”

  Ahmad’s gaze returned to me. “Information.”

  “About what?”

  He paused. Just long enough that I noticed it.

  “About a girl with a compromised suit,” he said, “who was forced to work under a false name on a backwater ice-rock with a methane sky.”

  My breath caught.

  He knew. Not just the broad shape of it—details.

  “The people who disabled your suit weren’t trying to kill you,” Ahmad added. “Not cleanly. They wanted you desperate. Predictable.”

  My nails dug into my palms inside my gloves. “Yeah. That’s them.”

  “I’m here because that kind of operation leaves a trail,” he said. “And because you’re standing at the center of it.”

  A cold laugh bubbled up and slipped out before I could stop it. “Lucky me.”

  Ahmad didn’t contradict me. He simply extended his hand—open, unarmed.

  “Come with me,” he said. “You’ll get medical treatment, heat, and a working comm line. After that, you can decide what you want.”

  I stared at his hand.

  People didn’t offer choices to Servant Number Three.

  They offered orders. They offered punishments. They offered cages.

  Choices were… suspicious.

  Behind us, the drones kept watch. Overhead, Shiratori hovered like a patient predator, its pale-blue shielding faintly visible when snow struck it just right.

  And for the first time since I’d been dumped on this planet, something inside me loosened—not hope, exactly, but the possibility of it.

  I took his hand.

  His grip was firm, warm through the glove. He helped me over a drift like I weighed nothing.

  As we walked toward the white craft, I glanced back once.

  The black snow kept falling. The captured men huddled in their restraints. The dead mechs sat half-buried, two expensive monuments to stupidity.

  And when the man in white led me through the storm, the world really did look a little brighter.