CHAPTER 547: SHOULD’VE STAYED HOME

He actually didn’t.

Mecha Master Allan valued two things in life: solitude and avoiding the other master mechanics like the plague.

So, when he received the official invite to observe a "promising young mechanic’s" exam, he scoffed so hard his nutrient solution nearly curdled. "As if I’d waste my afternoon listening to those rust-bucket geezers crow over whatever brat they’ve decided to fuss about this year."

He declined. Politely. Then unsubtly. Then with an ancient mechanic’s curse that translated loosely to "stop sending me junk mail."

But fate was cruel. Because even before he could properly celebrate his successful avoidance of social obligations, a summons arrived.

From Duke Samuel Zorath.

Of course.

House Kyros was making waves. Again. After so many years of silence, they suddenly decide to reappear on everyone’s radar. And while the Zorath family wasn’t afraid of them, they certainly weren’t fond of being outshone at the Empire’s upcoming expo. Especially not by the family funding that ridiculous guild with a daycare, good food, and glowing skin.

So now, Mecha Master Allan was aboard a vessel of House Zorath, being dragged across space like a reluctant grandpa being told to attend a teenager’s piano recital.

He intended to arrive late. Fashionably late. Hopefully miss the whole thing.

It was a peaceful plan. A brilliant plan.

Until—

WHIZZ.

BOOM.

"WHAT IN ALL THIRTY-SEVEN STABILIZERS—!" Allan nearly flung himself out of his seat. His poor spine made a sound like a rusted hinge as he twisted around.

"Are we under attack?! Captain, report!"

The captain stammered something unintelligible before yanking the scenic projection offline and switching it to the external camera feed.

Allan blinked.

Then blinked again.

"..."

"...Is that... is that a face?"

The captain hesitated, unsure about how to answer, so he asked, "Which one, sir?"

Which one?! There were multiple?

Well, there were fireworks exploding into holographic portraits. Drones flying in synchronized formation to spell out what might’ve been "Good Luck, Young Lord Luca." Or perhaps "We Love You, Most Beautiful Genius of Our Time." Hard to tell. The streamers fluttering from the House Kyros flagship weren’t helping.

Below them, a slow parade of supporters disembarked with banners, musical instruments, and what looked like a mechanical dragon painted gold.

Allan squinted.

"...Did they just project a winking animation?"

"Yes, Master," said the captain, solemnly. "That’s the fifth loop."

"..."

So, in a sense, ideally, that was indeed a face. But if you asked the very same people moving about, they wouldn’t just accept that.

It wasn’t just a face.

That was their creed. Their heart. Their hope.

And unlike the face that each person seemed to carry, that was the face that was meant to grace the skies.

Unfortunately, military headquarters didn’t share the same enthusiasm—much to the Duke’s dismay, as he gawked in disbelief at their audacity, and to the quiet relief of the Duchess, who was far more concerned with salvaging her son’s dignity.

But with everyone’s mood souring from the unexpected sensibility shown by the military inspector, Duchess Amelia realized she had no choice but to intervene.

"Officer, would it be possible to reserve airspace for tomorrow for a congratulatory message?"

The officer hesitated. "Duchess Amelia, reserving wouldn’t be an issue under normal circumstances, but such requests are typically filed at least a week in advance..."

"I understand, Officer," she replied, voice calm but firm. "The exam itself was announced only two days ago, so there was no opportunity to file earlier. However—because of this inconvenience—kindly inform the Marshal that the House of Kyros intends to present an offer of significant value for the benefit of the military."

She gestured to a small, ornate box beside her.

"Please deliver this to the Marshal. Inform him that I will provide the code upon direct confirmation that he is the one holding it."

The officer opened his mouth, halfway to rejection—only to freeze when she slipped her token into the package. The security system flickered. The priority level changed instantly.

He saluted.

The members of House Kyros turned as one to look at their Duchess. Duke Leander, moved beyond measure, looked on the verge of sobbing.

"My Lia... you really are the best. How could someone be so smart?!"

Amelia, unbothered and used to the praise, let out a tired chuckle. She sighed as her husband beamed beside her like a proud sunflower.

And just like that, the other battleships—especially those belonging to less fortunate nobles—had to endure twenty whole minutes of relentless, majestic, sky-filling displays of one familiar face.

Luca’s.

Again and again.

From every possible angle.

Rendered in celebratory fireworks. Streamers. Holographic projections. At one point, a formation of drones even traced out his smile.

It was, in short, a symphony of shameless devotion.

And judging from the rising levels of disbelief echoing through the comm channels... it was far from over.

And Mecha Master Allan?

He was still watching from his ship, dead silent.

He slumped back on his seat, stared at the insanity outside, and muttered, "I should’ve stayed home."

Not that staying home would’ve spared anyone—because the fanatics on Starnet weren’t going to let that kind of display go unnoticed.

It started with the commuter ships, the ones carrying the general public.

Then it spread across Starnet like wildfire.

And eventually, it circled all the way back to one unsuspecting blonde... who was peacefully munching on something called chicken tenders.

While his brother was holed up finalizing his designs for the upcoming exam, Ollie had been working hard on something just as important: his carefully made signboard.

It had to be big. Big enough for Luca to see from the testing area. Something bright and silly he could look at if he got bored inside.

After all, he’d be stuck in there for more than half the day, and Ollie wanted him to have something uplifting—something to remind him he wasn’t alone out here.

So Ollie did what any dedicated brother would do.

He looked up design references.

And that was when it happened.

His terminal exploded with images.

Of his brother.

In the sky.

"...Huh?"

He blinked. Scrolled. Then blinked again.

That... that was definitely his brother’s face floating between a formation of drones. Was that fireworks?

Was that—

"IS THAT...LASER-EYES?!" Ollie screamed, nearly dropping his chicken tender.

Ollie nearly fell off the bench.

One moment, he was happily munching on chicken tenders, the next he was choking on his last bite and leaping to his feet like someone had just announced the apocalypse.

Because in a way, they had.

"Oh my stars—Brother!!"

Ollie sprinted out of the room like a man possessed. He dashed through the dungeon grounds, barely dodging the curious Jax and skidding around the pathway like ghosts were chasing him.

When he finally reached the hangar, he slammed through the doors and wheezed.

Luca, who had been quietly adjusting a component on his workstation, immediately looked up. His eyes widened in alarm.

"Brother? What happened? Are you hurt?" The concerned chipmunk rushed over, his gloves still smudged with evidence of working.

Still catching his breath, Ollie clutched his brother by the shoulders with the solemnity of a man preparing to confess that he ate the missing snack.

"Brother," he said after taking a deep breath, eyes wide and serious.

Luca leaned in, concerned.

"Look," Ollie said, and dramatically held up his terminal.

Luca blinked as the screen lit up.

And then he saw it.

His face. Gleaming in the sky. Surrounded by floating lights, sparkling borders, and a suspicious amount of animated sparkles. A caption sparkled beneath his chin like a royal decree. "Congratulations, Young Lord Luca!"

Luca blinked again.

Ollie braced himself for the scream, the denial, the mortified collapse.

Instead, Luca’s ears turned pink.

And then his entire face.

And then—

He smiled.

A soft, stunned, dazzling kind of smile. "Such support," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Everyone."

Ollie stared at him. "You’re not upset? You’re okay with this?"

"I’ve never had anything like this before," Luca whispered. "Even after everything. Even now... they still came."

His expression trembled with quiet awe.

But then that awe turned into realization.

"They’re watching," Luca said. "Oh stars. They’re really watching."

Ollie nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, they are."

"I can’t fail. I can’t mess this up," Luca said, now gripping his terminal like it owed him an explanation. "People actually came. They even had to travel this far just to be here legitimately. So I need to... I need to do better."

Ollie blinked. "Wait. Brother. What do you mean by ’do better’?"

"The build. My original plan is too basic," Luca muttered, already pulling up schematics. "I need to modify it. Improve it. A slight change at least."

"Huh, brother... no. Stop. You’re doing great already."

But Luca was gone. Not physically, but mentally. He was already inside a world of glowing diagrams and mod charts, talking to himself in increasingly fast bursts of genius.

Surely, it wouldn’t be too bad to do it like that, right?