CHAPTER 546: MELTDOWNS

The news spread fast, screaming-across-the-universe fast.

Across planets, through terminals, into inboxes buried under spam, it echoed like a declaration from the stars.

The House of Kyros’ heir was taking a special licensure exam.

And while the master mechanics who received such messages were intrigued, it was a different case for the people of House Kyros.

It was related to their Young Lord.

Naturally, everyone wanted to go. Everyone. Even the retired, selectively deaf lake caretaker tried to register as a supporter.

But that many supposed medically discharged soldiers entering Planet Nova at once? Yeah, that might cause... problems and raise questions.

So D-29, with all the gravity of a system who had just solved world hunger, recommended a livestream.

"!!!"

It was an instant hit.

Of course, the lucky fifty who were allowed to watch in person and breathe the same air still got glared at so hard their hairlines receded. One even fainted from the sheer pressure.

Not that the air on Nova was better, but at least they’d get to witness history with their own eyes—and have something dramatic to tell their children.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen of the Dungeon space, a team of so-called "children" had declared a critical mission: Operation Support Luca.

They were cutting, slicing, grilling, and mostly arguing over what was best for a mecha-building genius who apparently forgot meals were a necessity.

"What are we making?" Ollie asked from his post—clinging to Kyle like a living fanny pack, arms wrapped loosely around the taller man’s waist as they waited for Xavier’s latest set of guidelines.

"The Captain said Luca needed food he could eat without getting his hands dirty," Kyle replied calmly, carefully preparing a chicken wrap.

Ollie blinked. "That’s... oddly specific."

Xavier, passing by, didn’t even stop. "Kitchen staff are handling full meals. But this is Luca. He’ll maximize his time. He won’t stop to eat if it’ll interfere with his work."

Ah. Yes. That made sense.

The little mop sighed dramatically. He knew his brother. The moment Luca said he’d "just finish some prep," what he meant was he was going to disappear into a vortex of hyper-productivity and re-emerge as a sleep-deprived legend.

Ollie wanted to help. Really, he did. But it had been too long since he last got to see Kyle...

So here he was. Glued to him. Like a desperate, affectionate barnacle.

In their corner of the kitchen, Kyle noticed the sudden pout in Ollie’s face when he looked down. His hair antenna, which usually stood like a proud flag of joy, had wilted into a sad comma.

His little star was likely conflicted about where he should be.

Kyle turned around slowly, catching the blonde off guard.

"Ollie."

No answer.

"Ollie?"

The blonde jumped. "Y-Yes?!"

Kyle held up a snack wrap even though he was sure Xavier had taken care of it. "Why don’t you take this to Luca? I made you one too. Maybe ask if he wants more fillings next time? Or what he’d like for the other ones?"

Ollie stared at him, eyes wide and suspiciously glassy. "But Kyle... we just got back... and I..."

Kyle set the wrap down, stepped forward, and—before Ollie could blink—pulled him into a firm hug.

Pressed chest to chest, Ollie blinked rapidly as a faint shimmer enveloped them in a soft spiritual barrier.

"I miss you too," Kyle murmured, voice low, brushing Ollie’s hair with a tenderness that could melt metal.

Ollie’s breath hitched.

Kyle tilted his head and kissed Ollie’s forehead—right there in the middle of the kitchen, like there weren’t people slicing vegetables ten feet away.

Ollie wanted to cry. Or yell. Or whine about schedules. About how he hadn’t gotten his full week’s worth of cuddles. But Kyle whispered, "We’ll figure it out. The faster we work, the sooner we’re done. And that means more time together."

Then he kissed the top of Ollie’s head, voice softer now. "This is how we’ll get a forever. Sometimes we go without... so let’s just make sure when we do have it, we don’t waste a second."

Ollie sniffled. "You only say that because you don’t have to hear them being all kissy-kissy all the time."

He puffed out his cheeks and made obnoxious kissy noises.

Kyle chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Then why don’t you steal a kiss too?"

He tilted his head and pointed at his cheek expectantly.

Ollie hesitated.

Then, with a sudden burst of defiance, Ollie leaned in—not for the cheek. He went for Kyle’s lips.

One kiss.

Then, breathless, he stood on tiptoe again for a second.

Kyle blinked. His eyebrows raised, stunned.

Ollie flushed to the roots of his hair and mumbled, "What kind of thief steals only once?"

Then he grabbed the wraps and bolted.

"I-I’m going to see my brother!" he announced with a power pose and trembling shoulders, leaving a smirking, very dazed Kyle in his wake.

Toes were curled. Hearts were fluttering. And somewhere, running towards the mecha hangar was a blonde who nearly tripped while escaping!

How could he say forever just like that! How shameless! He thought as he ran through possible names starting with the letter K.

Meanwhile, just as one love-struck blonde bolted toward his future with two wraps and a red face, a collection of white-haired, high-ranking mecha masters were practically crawling toward their ships—muttering curses, wheezing through spaceports, and collectively questioning their life choices.

"How could the lot of you just say two days from now?!"

"What if we don’t even get there in time?! I swear, if I miss even a second, I’ll retire and haunt every one of you!"

"Who among you lot can actually replicate how he layered that energy grid? Be honest. YOU?!" One accused, jabbing an accusatory finger at a very guilty-looking peer.

"Me?! I was blinking during half of it! He moved too fast!"

"Then how could you do this irresponsibly?! Or is it because you’re all so much nearer?!" Screamed another master onto their running group conference.

From different parts of the galaxy, from stardocks to shuttle bays, the complaints kept coming like an orchestra of grumpy, sleep-deprived old men, all trying to board ships with shaky hands and racing hearts.

And in the eye of this storm, leaning back in his comfortable chair aboard the Kyros battleship, sipping tea like this wasn’t a galactic emergency, was Master Quinn.

The smugness was practically oozing through the terminal screen as he looked at their suffering with affectionate scorn.

Not only did he have a guaranteed spot to support Luca, but he was also able to watch the suffering of the other masters.

"Stop complaining," Quinn said with a snort, "Be grateful you even got a day to travel. You keep yapping like that, you’ll croak from stress before you reach Planet Nova. Who you gonna blame then, huh?"

"You! I’ll blame you!" one master roared back, coughing mid-yell. "You’ve obviously known about this longer and didn’t tell anyone! You’re trying to be like Allan now?!"

Quinn paused mid-sip.

"Pshh. Don’t mention that goon. You’ll sour my tea."

"Then WHY didn’t you say anything when you saw he was being invited?!"

"Say what?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "That the kid being tested is practically my master? So House Zorath could contest his legitimacy in a fit of envy?"

A heavy silence followed.

"...Let him come, then!" one finally snapped. "Let that bastard Allan try! He’s the one asking for it!"