Two Wrong Make a Right Ch.38

Ilia is petting Brutus, or more accurately, scratching under his massive chin, which clearly pleases the Grimm-Squig immensely. And he expresses that satisfaction by wagging his tail enthusiastically, his oversized tongue lolling out.

He really is oddly cute, despite being perfectly capable of tearing people apart and chomping them in half with those massive jaws.

I'm also relieved that he has zero issues with Ilia despite meeting her for the first time, which confirms my hypothesis about stamped creatures and retinue members.

My friend then stops abruptly, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. "No, no... I just don't get it, Adam."

I merely let out a sigh, arms crossed as I lean against the manor's wall. "Yes, I know. It's a lot to process."

I tried to explain as many critical points as possible to her during our conversation, but there will always be doubts and more questions.

"A lot to process? That's putting it mildly." She presses her lips together, rubbing the back of her neck for a moment. "Just thinking that there are beings more powerful than the Brother gods? Or the god of Animals? Or... well, anything we've ever been taught about?" Her voice rises slightly with each question. "This practically omnipotent organization called 'The Company'? And that you were specifically chosen by them to be their contractor? That this is how you've been accomplishing so many seemingly impossible things in such a short time? Why did you suddenly find skilled people who could help us?"

I can see the internal struggle playing out across her features. She discovered my manor by mere coincidence, just like Penny found it. The Company grants retinue members instant access to portal creation the moment they're added to my roster.

It was inevitable that she would have found it eventually, so her discovery isn't really surprising. Unlike Penny's unexpected arrival.

This is Ilia—someone who's known me since childhood, who grew up alongside me in Menagerie, who witnessed both joyful and tragic events by my side. She's seen me at my absolute lowest and highest points, fought beside me through many battles. But this revelation is is definitely shaking her views

"I understand your skepticism," I say calmly, keeping my tone measured. "If someone had told me any of this months ago, I wouldn't have believed them either. I would have thought they'd lost their mind." I gesture toward Brutus, who's now attempting to get Ilia's attention again by nudging her hand insistently with his massive head. "But the evidence is directly in front of you. That's a Terrorfang, by the way—or at least, he was. Now he's become something... different. Alive in a way Grimm shouldn't be. And he acts like an oversized dog. This space around us is a pocket dimension, completely separated from Remnant—the safest location in the entire world."

"I can see the resemblance with the Terrorfangs we've encountered before..." Ilia looks down at Brutus, her expression still deeply conflicted as the creature makes pleased rumbling sounds. "I've seen all of it with my own eyes. I've shared meals with the ship girls. I've worked alongside the pods. I know that it's real, but..." She trails off, struggling to articulate her words. "But all of this power, all these resources, all this technology—given by a single organization that operates beyond our reality? I cannot even begin to comprehend the implications of this."

"I don't have all the answers either," I admit honestly, pushing off from the wall. "I don't fully understand their ultimate motivations or why they specifically chose me as their contractor. What I do know with certainty is that they brought me back from the brink of death, cured my cyberpsychosis when nothing else could, and gave me practical tools to protect our people and help them actually prosper." I pause, meeting her gaze directly. "But even if they provided everything on a silver platter, it wouldn't have been worth a single damn thing if I didn't put in the work myself. These are tools, Ilia. I'm the one wielding them."

Ilia absently resumes scratching Brutus's chin, the familiar repetitive motion seeming to ground her emotionally. "So you're what exactly? Their contractor? Their agent operating in Remnant? Their investment?"

"Something like that," I confirm with a slight shrug. "They have their own objectives and agendas that extend beyond our world. In pursuing those objectives, I gain the means to achieve our goals for the Faunus. It's mutually beneficial for the time being."

I don't think they'll betray me directly or sabotage my efforts, but I do genuinely fear they've left something dangerous in Remnant that could fuck everyone over. After all, encountering Hanzo and Genji was a complete shock—proof that the Company has made more changes than I expected.

"For now..." She's quiet for a long moment, processing the implications. "And you trust them?"

"As far as my arm can reach," I respond honestly, using the old saying. "I trust that our interests currently align. I trust that they've delivered on everything they've explicitly promised me. Beyond that?" I shrug slightly. "I remain cautious but pragmatic about the arrangement. They've given me access to power and resources I never could have obtained otherwise, but everything still ultimately comes from my own efforts and decisions. I will always dedicate those efforts to helping the Faunus—to building something lasting, just like Ghira would have wanted. Not just desperate, mindless battles against Atlas while trying to survive another day on scraps and fake hope."

Brutus lets out a deep, pleased rumble that vibrates through the ground, clearly enjoying Ilia's renewed attention and the rhythmic scratching.

"It's just..." Ilia struggles again with articulating her concerns. "Everything we were taught growing up, everything we believed about the world and the gods..." She gestures helplessly at our surroundings. "And now you're telling me there's an entire hierarchy of beings and organizations operating beyond what anyone on Remnant knows, and they're actively interfering in our world for their own purposes?"

"Not actively interfering in the traditional sense," I correct, then pause as I try to think of a different approach. "They're more like... spectators."

They've already changed too many fundamental things about our Remnant—mostly for the worse.

"You explained that part, I remember. It's just such a bizarre concept that incredibly powerful... entities... just want to watch our world unfold for entertainment purposes. Like we're some kind of performance."

"I try to not think about it," I acknowledge.

There's a short, contemplative silence between us, broken only by Brutus's contented breathing.

"So what happens now?" She finally asks, looking up at me with those gray eyes.

"We continue pursuing our goals. Nothing fundamental has changed about what we're trying to accomplish."

"Do Sienna and Kali know about any of this?"

"Not yet. I plan to tell them eventually—particularly Sienna, who I want to bring here during the final months of her pregnancy."

This is the safest place in the entire world, after all. No threats, no dangers, completely secure.

"That's... probably a good idea." Ilia admits quietly. "Nobody could ever get here from what I understand."

Brutus suddenly shifts his massive weight and lunges forward, his enormous tongue attempting to lick Ilia's face with enthusiastic affection.

"Ah! Brutus, no—!" Ilia yelps in surprise as she puts her hands in front of her, but the sound quickly dissolves into laughter as she pushes Squig's slobbery attention. That’s when her skin flashes through yellow and green as she pushes against his massive head. "Okay, okay! I get it, you like me too!"

Brutus backs off slightly, his tail wagging so vigorously that it creates small gusts of wind, clearly pleased with himself.

I can't help but feel amused at the scene. "You can ride him if you want"

Ilia freezes mid-laugh, her head snapping toward me with wide eyes. "Wait, what?"

"Yep" I confirm, pushing off from the wall. "He can carry several people without issue, and he seems to have taken a liking to you."

Also he was able to pick up and throw a behemoth by himself with his mouth.

Ilia chews her bottom lip, considering. Then, surprisingly, a small adventurous smile crosses her features. "You know what? Why not. This day can't get any stranger than it already has."

Brutus seems to understand what's happening because he immediately bounds away across the yard with surprising speed for his bulk, disappearing around the side of the manor.

"Where's he going?" Ilia asks, slightly alarmed.

"Getting the riding gear," I explain. "He knows."

Sure enough, Brutus returns moments later, carrying a specially designed saddle-harness in his massive jaws. The leather straps and reinforced frame look almost comically small against his enormous body, but they're built to his exact specifications.

I take the gear from him and approach, quickly setting about securing it properly across his broad back and around his chest. Brutus stands remarkably still during the process, only his tail continuing its enthusiastic wagging.

"Good boy," I mutter, checking each strap for security and give it a pat to the side of his belly.

Once everything is properly secured, I give Brutus a command. "Down."

The Squig immediately lowers himself into a crouch, making it easier for Ilia.

"Alright, come on," I gesture to her. "Just swing your leg over and settle into the saddle. Hold onto the front grips—they're there for exactly that."

Ilia takes a step closer. She reaches out tentatively to touch Brutus's side, and when he doesn't react negatively, she gains a bit more confidence. With my help to steady her, she manages to swing her leg over and settle into the saddle.

"Okay, this is... higher than I expected," she admits, gripping the handles tightly. "And also extremely weird. I'm sitting on a Grimm."

"Not a grimm anymore," I correct with a slight smirk. "Hold on tight."

Before Ilia can ask what I mean, Brutus suddenly springs forward into an enthusiastic sprint, his powerful legs propelling him across the yard at surprising speed.

"ADAM!" Ilia yelps in surprise, her voice rising sharply as Brutus charges forward, his claws digging into the ground with each powerful stride.

But as Brutus begins running wide circles around the expansive backyard, I can hear Ilia's surprised yelp gradually transform into something else—laughter. Genuine, thrilled laughter.

"Oh, my—this is insane!" she shouts, her voice carrying across the yard as Brutus picks up even more speed, his massive form moving with that speed that doesn’t fit his form.

I watch as they make another lap, Brutus clearly enjoying himself as much as Ilia seems to be. Her initial doubts have completely transformed into exhilaration, her grip on the handles relaxing slightly as she becomes more comfortable with the rhythm of his movement.

"He's so fast!" Ilia calls out, her voice now carrying pure excitement rather than alarm. "How is something this big so fast?"

Brutus responds to her enthusiasm by executing a sharp turn, then accelerating even further, his tongue lolling out happily as he runs. Ilia lets out another thrilled scream, but this time it's filled with pure joy.

What a strange dog indeed.

----------------------------------------------------

Things went well with Ilia after that ride on Brutus. That matter could finally be set to rest. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel relieved and glad that she knew the truth, now we could do a lot more things together. Like taking her to new places.

Maybe I should take her on a visit to that Trade hub although I will keep her away from Wilma.

Now I'm seated across from Sienna in my office, the afternoon light filtering through the window casting long shadows across the desk between us. 

"The Albain brothers sent their latest report." I begin, sliding a tablet across the desk toward her. "They've successfully located an SDC outpost positioned further north, close to central Mistral and well outside of Spider clan territory."

Sienna's amber eyes narrow with immediate interest as she picks up the tablet, scrolling through the data. "An SDC outpost? That far?"

"Confirmed. Visual identification, supply shipments bearing SDC corporate markings, and security personnel wearing company uniforms." I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled. "What they haven't been able to determine yet is the outpost's specific operational purpose. Whether it's a logistics hub, forward security station, mining operation coordination center, or something else entirely."

"But if there's a permanent outpost..." Sienna's lips curve into a slight, predatory smile that I recognize well. "Then they must be close to those cursed mining towns where our people are being exploited."

"Exactly my thought," I confirm with a nod. "The SDC doesn't establish isolated outposts without any sort of purpose, they aren't the Atlesian military who can afford to waste resources on pointless infrastructure. That facility's existence means something valuable is nearby. Resources to extract, supply routes to protect, or labor camps to monitor."

"And supply routes mean regular convoys," Sienna adds, her tactical mind already working through possibilities.

"Precisely."

Sienna sets down the tablet, her expression growing more serious and determined. "This could be our opportunity to finally strike back at the SDC directly. After everything they've done to our people, all the suffering they've caused..."

"I know," I interrupt gently but firmly, understanding the righteous anger simmering beneath her controlled exterior. "Believe me, I know. But we need to approach this situation carefully. The question is whether we're actually ready to resume our fight against them—and more importantly, whether we're ready for the consequences."

"Ready?" Sienna's amber eyes flash with familiar fire. "Adam, we have more resources now than we've ever possessed in the White Fang's entire history. Significantly more forces with high morale and proper training. Better equipment. And we count with the assistance of your Pods who are incredible in intel gathering and other sorts of support. Then there are the girls who you found, acting as our naval force—"

"Resources aren't the issue, Sienna," I counter steadily, meeting her intense gaze. "If we hit this SDC outpost with full force, the corporation will immediately raise the alarm. Within hours, the Atlas military will get directly involved, and they'll immediately recognize our operational signatures rather than dismissing it as random banditry from Mistral's many criminal elements."

Sienna frowns deeply, clearly disliking where this conversation is heading. "You're suggesting we deliberately disguise ourselves as common bandits. Make it look like opportunistic criminals rather than organized resistance."

"I don't like it either," I admit with complete honesty. "It goes against some of our fundamental principles—taking credit for our actions, showing our people we're fighting for them. But from a purely strategic standpoint, it serves multiple purposes."

"Explain."

I lean forward, organizing my thoughts into clear points. "First, disguising this as banditry allows us to accurately gauge SDC's response times without revealing our hand. How quickly do they respond to attacks on their infrastructure? What level of security reinforcement do they deploy? What does their communication infrastructure actually look like in practice?" I pause for emphasis. "Or do they simply write off these remote outposts as expendable and not worth their time?"

"Testing their defenses and priorities," Sienna acknowledges, though her expression remains conflicted.

"Exactly. Second, if we conduct this attack under the guise of bandits, we can observe how information flows through their entire security network. Does the outpost communicate directly with the mining towns? Do they call for reinforcements from specific regional bases? How do they prioritize threats?" I tap the desk for emphasis. "Their behaviour will help us map portions of their operational structure throughout the region—intelligence that's invaluable for future operations."

Sienna is quiet for a long moment, her tactical mind processing the strategic logic even as it conflicts with her warrior's instinct for direct action. "And if we reveal ourselves as White Fang immediately..."

"They'll contact Atlas military command within the hour, and we'll face far more numerous and better-equipped soldiers—not just corporate security forces with basic training," I confirm seriously. "We'd be trading a momentary satisfaction of claiming credit for substantial long-term strategic advantage. Short-term pride for long-term victory."

"I still don’t like this," Sienna says firmly, her hand unconsciously moving to rest on her stomach. "Our people deserve to know we're actively fighting for them, that we haven't abandoned the struggle."

"Some already know, and that's what matters most right now," I assure her. "Our core supporters, our active fighters—they understand what we're building. Eventually, everyone will know what we've accomplished. But we need Atlas's involvement delayed until our infrastructure is solid enough that their intervention comes too late to stop us."

Sienna rubs her temple. "And you think the risk in this operation is relatively low?"

"According to the report, this outpost is positioned far from any significant settlement or known Atlas military installations in the region," I confirm. "It's isolated enough that any response time should be measured in hours, possibly days depending on weather and terrain conditions. That gives us a substantial window."

"But being isolated also means they might have something to compensate for," Sienna counters.

"Possible, but unlikely given SDC's notorious cost-cutting tendencies, even for their own operations," I reply. "They rely heavily on Atlas military protection rather than investing that much in their own security infrastructure. But that doesn't make them any less dangerous when."

Sienna nods slowly. "And you'll be leading this attack?"

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I'm leaving this operation entirely under the brothers' jurisdiction. They'll make plans, select the operatives, and execute as they see fit. This is their operation to command."

Her eyebrows rise slightly in surprise. "You're not even going to oversee it directly?"

"I trust their judgment and capabilities," I state plainly. "Besides, my direct involvement would be complete overkill for what's essentially a reconnaissance-in-force operation. We're testing their defenses." I lean back slightly and let out a sigh. "I can't and won't oversee everything personally. That's not sustainable leadership—it's micromanagement that breeds dependency rather than competence."

Sienna's ears perk up noticeably.. "Then what will you be doing during this time?"

"I have my own operation to oversee," I confirm. "Remember the cargo ship hijacking I mentioned previously?"

Sienna's eyes widen slightly as the memory clicks into place. "The freight vessel... that will happen within the week." Her expression quickly shifts to confusion, then suspicion. "Wait. Your plan is ambitious, Adam, but you just spent the last ten minutes explaining why we need to avoid drawing excessive heat from Atlas. A ship hijacking would bring enormous attention to us. Care to explain that apparent contradiction?"

"Very different circumstances," I respond calmly, having anticipated this exact question. "The SDC outpost attack is permanent—destroyed infrastructure, confirmed casualties, ongoing investigation. That generates sustained attention and pressure."

I lean forward to emphasize my point. "The ship hijacking is temporary by design. We intercept the vessel, secure the crew as temporary hostages without harming them, unload what we need, and return both ship and crew safely to the nearest port."

"That still generates attention," Sienna counters skeptically.

"It generates a different type of attention," I clarify. "Cargo theft is common enough in international waters—it's treated as common criminal activity, not military threat. The shipping company files insurance claims, maybe hires escorts or just wash their hands. But the kingdoms won’t get directly involved in cargo theft when they have far more important things."

Sienna considers this, her tactical mind working through the distinctions. "So it's about the type of response we trigger."

"Exactly. A destroyed outpost means military investigation and potential retaliation. A hijacked cargo ship means insurance paperwork and corporate security reviews." I pause. "More importantly, there's practically no reliable way to track vessels in real-time once they're at sea."

There are no satellites or anything on orbit that could be used to send signals.

"What do you mean?" Sienna asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

"Communication between kingdoms relies on CCT towers for long-range transmission, but even as advanced as they have gotten. Once a vessel leaves port and moves beyond coastal observation range, there's no way to monitor its position until it either reports in via specialized radio, an airship escort or arrives at its destination. Everyone is on their own."

"So if you intercept it mid-route..."

"Nobody knows where it is or what's happening until it fails to arrive on schedule or the crew reports the incident after we release them," I confirm. "We get what we need and people are none the wiser."

"That's..." Sienna pauses. "That's actually one good point. The CCT has many limitations that still haven’t been solved."

And probably never will.

"Precisely."

"And the cargo itself?" Sienna asks. "You didn’t mention what cargo you were hoping to get here."

"Construction materials, heavy equipment, industrial components—everything we need for the major infrastructure projects so we can jumpstart a new and far more powerful economy," I explain. "Tons of steel, cement, machinery. Materials that would be extremely expensive and suspicious to acquire through normal channels in the quantities we need. Everything to become self-sufficient."

Sienna nods slowly, "And returning the ship prevents it from becoming a military matter."

"Exactly. A missing ship with a dead or missing crew becomes a potential act of war or terrorism. A returned ship with an unharmed crew and only missing cargo becomes lower priority." I meet her gaze. "We get what we need without triggering the response that would threaten everything we're building."

"When does this operation begin?" she asks.

"Within the week," I reply. "The vessel departs Vale soon, and we'll intercept it approximately midway through its route to Mistral.”

Sienna leans back, crossing her arms. "You've certainly been busy."

"Of course I was," I responded matter-of-factly.

A brief silence settles between us, comfortable but thoughtful. Then Sienna shifts slightly in her chair.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you," she begins, her tone shifting noticeably. "Could you upgrade my weapon?"

I blink, surprised by the sudden change of topic. "Why not ask Pod? He has far more extensive experience in weapon forging and modification than I do."

He could design comprehensive schematics in seconds and possessed encyclopedic knowledge worth thousands of years. He forged my behemoth-class sword after all.

"I tried," Sienna admits with a slight grimace of frustration. "He's been occupied with multiple high-priority projects, and I couldn't track him down."

Ah, right. Pod is constantly jumping between locations with the other Pods, especially now that we have several critical infrastructure projects demanding attention. He's also overseeing the training and capacitation programs for our future personnel. Additionally, I haven't officially assigned him to Sienna's direct support like I have with Kali, so she doesn't have any reliable way to contact him directly.

I could easily call him now and relay her request. But my eyes drift down to my cybernetic arm, and I consider the question more carefully. This arm has changed a lot since I first woke up in that wasteland.

In other words, I could technically handle this myself.

My talents in science and engineering exist for a reason, after all. These past months, I haven't remained idle, I've been intensively studying and practicing maintenance, repair, and upgrades for my prosthetic. I was supposed to forge my new weapon personally, but since I was too busy, Pod ended up creating it in my stead.

All that accumulated knowledge, those fundamental principles and theoretical understanding should translate to this without significant issues. 

"Alright," I agree after a thoughtful pause. "I can take a look at it."

Sienna's expression brightens noticeably. She reaches down and unclips Cerberus' Whip from her waist—which strikes me as slightly unusual since she typically keeps it wrapped around her right wrist as an accessory. She places it on the desk between us, the segmented metal links gleaming in the afternoon light, clearly recently polished.

I pick up the chain whip, immediately assessing its weight and balance. Surprisingly light despite being roughly six feet in length when fully extended. The maintenance is impeccable—the bladed segments remain sharp; the joints move smoothly, no obvious wear on the mechanisms.

Activating my enhanced vision, I focus on the weapon in a different way. The world shifts as technical data overlays appear across my field of view, highlighting stress points, material, time, etc.

Almost immediately, I identify areas that can be improved.

"Interesting," I murmur, rotating the weapon slowly to examine it from multiple angles, the data continuously updating. "Your maintenance work is excellent, Sienna. If it wasn't for such meticulous care, your weapon would have started experiencing failures due to fundamental issues in the base design."

"Issues? Such as?" Sienna's ears perk up.

"The Dust infusion system, primarily," I explain, tracing my finger along one of the segments. "It's functional and well-maintained, but the distribution network is fundamentally uneven. Based on these energy flows, you're probably losing approximately 30% of your Dust capacity to inefficient channeling and excess discharge. That's likely why the weapon produces such dramatic visual effects when you activate it—wasted energy manifesting as excess flame or ice."

"That much? That would certainly explain why I've been consuming Dust significantly faster than I expected." Sienna comments with a frown. 

"I can completely redesign the internal distribution network to maximize efficiency," I continue, already conceptualizing the modifications in my mind. "You'll get a much better output from the same amount of Dust. More controlled elemental discharge, but stronger effects." I pause, considering another possible addition. "If you want, I can also integrate lighting so you can attack with all three elements for each blade."

I set the weapon down on the desk, meeting her gaze.

"It would take me a few days to complete the upgrades and modifications. I'll need to set aside dedicated time for the work, but I can make this a priority."

"That would be great. I can wait," Sienna adjusts a strand of her hair. "Just don’t change too much if you can, please."

"The core will remain identical, don't worry about it.” I assure her. "All the changes are the internal architecture.” 

"Thank you, Adam." 

“Don’t worry about it.”

---------------------------------------

It turns out that I was indeed correct with my confidence. I finished upgrading Sienna's weapon, and she was very pleased with the results. So much so that she hugged me tightly and nuzzled against my chest, and purred louder than before.

She quickly tried to backtrack from the gesture, but I didn't mind since it was adorable as always.

So now that leaves me with the main event of the week. I'm currently at the manor in my pocket dimension, seated cross-legged on the ground with my weapon resting beside me. I have changed to a different outfit, no more of that stupid lousy gangster look, but a more conservative one of full black and a different helmet to hide everything.

"COMMANDER, THE FREIGHTER HAS REACHED THE DESIGNATED INTERCEPTION ZONE. CURRENT POSITION IS APPROXIMATELY 3.7 KILOMETERS OFF PROJECTED COURSE DUE TO OCEAN CURRENTS."

Well, that was entirely expected. Ocean navigation is never precise, especially over long distances without advanced tracking systems like GPS or satellite positioning. Which doesn’t exist and probably never will as long as dust is the main energy source.

"Confirmed. Status of the vessel?"

"ONLY THE TARGET FREIGHTER IS PRESENT IN THE AREA. ANALYZING DEFENSIVE CAPABILITIES... THE VESSEL IS EQUIPPED WITH A SINGLE DEFENSIVE CANNON MOUNTED AFT. CREW COMPLEMENT ESTIMATED AT TWENTY TO THIRTY PERSONNEL BASED ON VESSEL SIZE, TYPE, AND OPERATIONAL REQUIREMENTS."

So they weren't traveling completely defenseless. Although a single cannon wouldn't be sufficient to stop most aquatic Grimm unless they got extremely lucky with a headshot, and it certainly wouldn't prevent a professional boarding action. But at the very least, it demonstrates the shipping company takes piracy seriously enough to arm their vessels with basic defensive measures. That cannon could easily disable or sink smaller pirate ships.

"Understood. Keep standing watch."

Then I switch communication channels. "Atago, give the signal."

"With pleasure, Commander~" Her voice carries that familiar playful, almost sultry lilt. "Firing signal flare now!"

A brief pause follows.

"Signal confirmed. We are rapidly approaching the vessel with Asanagi and Kawakaze in tight formation. Current distance: two kilometers and closing fast. No signs of detection—they haven't altered course, increased speed, or shown any defensive response. They're completely unaware."

I can only listen but everything is proceeding according to plan.

"Approaching optimal boarding range," The wolf girl reports. "One kilometer... five hundred meters... two hundred..."

The channel remains relatively silent for a few moments, but then I get the desired message. "We've reached the ship. Boarding now."

I can hear the distinctive sounds of movement through the communication link—water splashing against hulls, the metallic clang of footsteps on metal.

"COMMANDER, PORTAL ESTABLISHMENT COMPLETE. COORDINATES LOCKED AND STABLE." Pod's voice confirms what I was waiting for.

A satisfied smirk crosses my face as I stand smoothly, picking up my weapon and securing it properly at my side. I walk toward the new red portal that materializes near the backyard exit, its swirling energy casting red light.

Without hesitation, I step through.

The transition is instantaneous and disorienting for just a fraction of a second. One moment I'm in the quiet, controlled comfort of my manor, the next I'm standing on the deck of a freight cargo vessel, immediately assaulted by the smell of salt water and dust fuel. Giant towers of shipping containers stack high above me in organized rows, their surfaces weathered by ocean spray and marked with various logos and identification codes.

My hand instinctively reaches out to touch the nearest container's cold metal surface, like trying to ground myself in the new environment. The vessel rocks gently with the ocean's natural rhythm beneath my feet.

I turn and immediately spot Kawakaze standing nearby at attention, her fox ears perked up attentively and her fluffy tail swaying behind her. So she's the one who opened the portal.

Despite her exterior showing minimal emotion, I know what she is hoping for.

My hand reaches out and gives her a gentle head pat, settling comfortably between her soft fox ears.

Her reaction is immediate and gratifying. That neutral expression melts into a smile as she leans into me, closing her eyes. Her tail begins wagging enthusiastically behind her, and her fox ears flap happily under my hand.

Undeniably cute.

"Good work, Kawakaze," I praise warmly, giving her one more pat before withdrawing my hand.

Kawakaze nods, her smile lingering even as she returns to a more professional demeanor and posture. "The crew has not detected our presence yet, Commander. They remain concentrated in the bridge and engine room. It’s probably their break time."

"That’s good to know." I survey the deck again, taking in the layout and where we could approach. "Where are Atago and Asanagi?"

"Atago is moving to secure the bridge. Asanagi is covering the engine room access points," Kawakaze reports.

"Good thinking. Let's keep this operation clean and professional." I adjust my grip on my weapon, ensuring it's ready but not overtly threatening. "Our objective is securing the crew and taking control of the ship—not causing unnecessary casualties or trauma. They cooperate, they stay safe. Simple equation."

Now it's time to secure the crew and redirect this ship back to Menagerie.

"Atago, Asanagi, status report."

"Bridge in sight, Commander~" Atago responds with her characteristic playfulness. "I can see the leaders through the windows. Navigation officer, helmsman, and what appears to be the captain. They still haven't noticed anything unusual—they're completely relaxed and unprepared."

"Engine room is totally locked down tight, Commander!" Asanagi's energetic and cheeky voice adds with obvious satisfaction. "I sealed all the exits! Everyone's trapped down there like fish in a barrel! They're not going anywhere unless I say so!" 

Good.

"Pod, overall situation?"

"NOTHING UNUSUAL TO REPORT, COMMANDER. ALL SYSTEMS OPERATING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS. I HAVE BLOCKED ALL SIGNALS AND NO DISTRESS SIGNALS TRANSMITTED.. EVERYTHING proceeding ACCORDING TO PLAN."

I roll my neck slowly, then roll my shoulders.

"Alright, let's move. Kawakaze, you're with me."

"Understood, Commander," Kawakaze responds immediately, falling into position beside me.

As we begin moving, Asanagi's voice comes through again. "Hey, Commander! You better not mess this up after all my hard work setting everything up perfectly! If you do, I'm definitely punching you in the stomach later! Got it?!"

I merely roll my eyes, I guess the effect of that time in my bedroom has faded completely and returned to her cheeky self.

And taking control of this ship was no issue at all.