Chapter 200: The 'Hero' Riding on Rainbow Clouds

【Steam Capital, Brass Tower】

【Half an Hour Before Vivian’s Execution】

In the dimly lit cell, Vivian knelt silently on the cold stone floor, dressed in a pristine white prison uniform. Her face was pale, yet her spine remained straight, unwavering. The fabric of her clothes, untouched by the grime of days spent in confinement, seemed unnaturally clean—almost radiant.

Seven days of imprisonment had not broken the once-proud knight. On the contrary, with the heavy stone that had weighed on her heart finally lifted, she had reclaimed herself. She had avenged her wrongs. She had fought fate to the end. And now, for the first time in years, she was truly herself.

Yet, even as everything unfolded exactly as she had planned, Vivian found herself lost in thought. Her beautiful eyes were veiled in a haze, clouded with an indescribable emotion.

Regret?

She shook her head gently. Every step she had taken today was her own choice. There was nothing to regret.

Then what was this weight in her chest?

After long silence, she whispered to herself—so softly, only she could hear:

"...I’m just... reluctant to let go."

In a fleeting moment, she remembered the brief time she’d spent with Chen Kong and the others in Lower City.

The coffee Chen Kong had handed her, still warm.

Liu Ma’s loud, unfunny jokes that never failed to make her smile.

Though fleeting, those moments had etched themselves into her soul.

But of all of them, one image remained most vivid:

Chen Kong’s eyes.

So earnest, almost foolishly sincere—just like her father, William’s.

Both men shared that same quiet, selfless gaze—the kind that would burn itself to ash for others.

"How could someone like that even exist?"

She smiled faintly, then wiped away a tear that had welled up—tears born not of sorrow, but of warmth.

Clack.

Just as she was lost in that tender memory, the sound of heavy footsteps broke through the silence.

A steam guardian, forged entirely from yellow brass and infused with a “special Machine Soul,” stood before her cell, expressionless.

“Execution time has arrived, Vivian.”

She paused, then slowly rose.

Her prison uniform dragged across the floor, a soft, sorrowful whisper against the stone.

She followed the guardian out of the dark, soulless cell—toward the end of her journey, to the massive Steam Furnace nestled just beyond the peak of the Brass Tower.

【Brass Tower Summit】

The wind up here was sharp, biting. Rain, cold and fine, sprinkled through the air, making the atmosphere thick with melancholy.

Vivian stepped onto the rooftop, and her breath caught.

Before her stood Yu Chen—her former deputy captain, now promoted to full captain of the Fifth Squad.

But that wasn’t the only shock.

He wasn’t just here.

He was free.

Yet Vivian didn’t care.

Whatever had happened in the past few days was irrelevant now.

She had already made her choice.

Head down, she began to pass by him in silence.

But just as she reached his side, the man who had always kept his eyes half-closed suddenly opened them—his gaze sharp, piercing.

“Not regretting it?”

The words struck her like ice.

Her body froze. A faint tremor ran through her slender shoulders.

After a long breath, she replied in a hoarse whisper:

“I chose this path. What’s there to regret?”

She didn’t stop.

She walked forward—toward the distant, hidden Steam Furnace, shrouded in thick, white clouds.

It loomed ahead: a colossal, monstrous structure of iron and brass, a beast of industry.

Its surface was covered in rusted gears and ancient pipes.

Steam hissed from every crack, rising into the sky, forming a dense, suffocating fog over the lower districts.

Between the furnace and the Brass Tower stretched a bridge—entirely made of yellow brass.

This was the Brass Path, the only route to the furnace that wouldn’t trigger its deadly defense mechanisms.

It had been activated moments ago by the Twelve Brass Council.

Vivian stood at the edge of the bridge.

And then—she stopped.

Why?

She had planned this.

She had prepared for this.

Yet now, her feet refused to move.

From afar, Yu Chen watched.

His eyes, once half-shut, now opened fully.

A slow, knowing smile curled at the corner of his lips.

So she still hesitates.

Perfect.

“Criminal Vivian. Proceed according to the Council’s judgment. Step onto the Brass Path.”

The steam guardian’s voice was flat, mechanical—without mercy.

Its massive steam blade, gleaming with cold metal, rose into the air, the sharp tip now aimed at Vivian’s back.

To a machine, there was no hesitation.

Any sign of resistance—any defiance—and it would strike without thought.

Vivian’s eyes dimmed.

Then, with a quiet resolve, she stepped forward.

But just then—

A voice thundered across the rooftop, like a crack of lightning from the heavens:

“Vivian! We’re here to save you!”

Her head snapped around.

Two figures in steam guardian armor burst forward—crashing off their helmets with a metallic clang.

Chen Kong’s dark hair whipped in the wind.

Liu Ma’s white teeth gleamed in the pale sunlight.

For a moment, Vivian’s heart stopped.

Hope flared—bright and sudden.

But then she remembered:

There were guards.

Yu Chen.

The Fifth Squad.

And yet—what followed was utterly absurd.

Yu Chen leapt forward, blocking Chen Kong’s path with a dramatic flair.

He pointed at them, voice stern:

“Chen Kong! Liu Ma! You dare to disrupt the order of Steam Capital? Do you have no respect for the Steam Branch?”

A gunshot rang out—zzip!

The bullet screamed past Chen Kong’s ear.

But the absurdity only deepened.

It didn’t hit Chen Kong.

It struck the steam guardians around them—perfectly.

The shot was so wildly inaccurate, yet so perfectly on-target—if only in the wrong direction.

It was like Yu Chen wasn’t aiming at them at all.

And then—when Chen Kong stepped closer—Yu Chen acted as if he hadn’t seen it coming.

A Void Pattern Bullet struck him square in the chest.

He fell—rolling slightly, then dragging himself aside, as if to clear the way.

Too much performance.

Too much acting.

But the real comedy came from the other Fifth Squad members.

Kong Cheng, the deputy captain, charged forward—only to slip and crash straight into Liu Ma’s fist, flying backward like a ragdoll.

The rest of the squad?

One “accidentally” hit the railing.

Another clutched his stomach, groaning in pain.

Seriously?

You’re all First-Rank Stellar Envoys—elite warriors—and you’re falling over railings and clutching your stomach like amateurs?

Are you trying to fool children?

Yet, as Chen Kong and Liu Ma tore through the ranks—one bullet, one punch, one down—the truth became undeniable.

The Fifth Squad wasn’t fighting.

They were performing.

And the performance was flawless.

Yu Chen, the captain, with his terrible aim—only hitting everyone except the two targets?

The deputy captain, suddenly “slipping” into a punch?

They weren’t weak.

They were helping.

And Chen Kong, watching it all unfold, felt a wave of warmth in his chest.

Who said the Stellar Envoy Association was rigid?

Look at them—clearly they understood justice.

The rules said Stellar Envoys couldn’t interfere in local affairs.

But they never said they couldn’t choose not to help.

In this moment, the rigid law and the flexible spirit of justice clashed—and in the most absurd, yet deeply moving way, found harmony.

Thanks to the Fifth Squad’s cooperation, the countless Level 1 and 2 steam automatons offered no real resistance.

Chen Kong and Liu Ma broke through, fighting through waves of guards—until at last, they stood before Vivian.

In the eyes of the audience, their moment had arrived.

Chen Kong reached out, grabbed her hand.

“Come on,” he said, voice soft—but unwavering.

“I’ll get you out.”

Vivian looked at him.

And in that instant, she saw him—not just as a man.

But as a hero.

A hero riding on rainbow clouds.

He wasn’t just breaking the darkness above her.

He was bringing warmth—light—into her soul.

The strength she had clung to for so long shattered.

Because now, she wasn’t walking toward death.

She was walking toward light.

Toward hope.

Toward a new beginning.

Through the drizzle, she lifted her face, smiled—genuinely, for the first time in years.

“Alright,” she whispered.

“Whatever you say.”

But just as joy began to fill the air—

A cold, familiar voice cut through.

“Kong… you still love playing the hero. Just like when we were kids.”

Chen Kong turned.

On the Brass Path, right in the center—

A figure stood.

A figure who should not have been there.

It was Ink.

The former captain of the Fifth Squad.

The man who had died days ago.

But his voice—his tone—was wrong.

It carried a familiarity… as if he had known Chen Kong since childhood.

Yet in Chen Kong’s memories, and in the minds of the Dimensional Audience—there was no Ink.

This wasn’t a ghost.

This wasn’t a memory.

This was someone pretending.

And whoever it was…

They knew Chen Kong’s past.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end