The corridor led them to an observation deck overlooking the Luofu's vast interior.
Kafka stood at the far end, silhouetted against the tall windows. Light filtered through, casting her shadow long across the polished floor. She didn't turn immediately. Just stood there, hands clasped behind her back, looking out at the city below.
The crew stopped at the entrance. March had her bow ready. Stelle gripped her bat. Welt's cane was already shifted into combat mode. Tingyun hung back slightly, fan open, eyes narrowed.
Finally, Kafka turned.
That smile. Always that smile.
"Welcome, Astral Express." Her voice carried easily across the space, calm and unhurried. "Looks like you caught me."
Stelle's jaw tightened. "Don't act like you didn't plan this."
The smile widened. Kafka let out a small, genuine laugh, the sound light and almost musical.
Welt stepped forward, his expression stern behind his glasses. "This entire chase was intentional. You wanted us to follow you here. Admit it, Kafka."
Kafka tilted her head, considering him. "I didn't plan anything, Welt." She spread her hands in a casual, almost innocent gesture. "It was simply the future. We interfere with countless future possibilities and make the best one a reality. Nothing more."
Her magenta eyes gleamed with something like amusement.
"You speak too highly of us. The Stellaron Hunters are merely Destiny's slaves."
March's hands went to her hips, frustration bleeding into her voice. "Best future? Best future for who? You only ever think about yourself!"
Another laugh. Softer this time.
"If I said 'best for the universe,' would you believe me?" Kafka's smile turned almost sad. "Best for me, naturally. That's all any of us can claim, isn't it?"
Stelle stared at her, expression conflicted. There was something in Kafka's tone, something that felt genuine beneath the performance. "I have a lot to ask you."
Kafka's smile softened, just a fraction. "I'm sure you do."
Hidden in the shadows of an adjacent corridor, Kevin watched.
He'd followed them silently, keeping his distance. Close enough to see, far enough to remain unseen. The darkness wrapped around him like a cloak.
His gray eyes tracked Kafka's every movement. Every word. Every calculated gesture.
She really knows how to play the villain.
But it wasn't admiration in his thoughts. More like recognition. Understanding.
Saying exactly what they want to hear. What they expect to hear. Playing the role perfectly.
He watched her smile, watched the way she held herself. Relaxed, confident, untouchable.
That's her greatest strength. But also...
Kevin's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
The saddest thing about her.
Because beneath the performance, beneath the smooth words and calculated moves, Kafka was just following orders. Playing a part written by someone else. Acting out scenes designed by Elio to push people in specific directions.
A slave to destiny, just like she'd said.
But unlike the others, she seemed to know it. Accept it. Even embrace it.
That's what makes it sad.
But the path she chose, through the best of times and the worst of times, remains the one that is truly hers.
Welt's voice cut through the moment, firm and authoritative. "We're taking you to see the General of the Luofu. You can say whatever you want, but he'll be the one to decide your fate."
Kafka shook her head, crossing her arms. The smile never left her face. "Oh, thanks, but no thanks. I can't stand moving at someone else's pace."
She glanced toward the windows. Just a brief look, but intentional.
"Besides, we don't have much time." Her tone shifted, still calm, but with an edge of urgency beneath it. "If I were you, I'd make a move before it's too late."
Tingyun stepped forward, fan snapping shut. "She's stalling. Trying to distract us while her accomplices do something elsewhere."
Kafka's magenta eyes slid toward Tingyun. Something passed between them, too quick to name, but Kevin caught it from his vantage point.
Recognition.
She knows.
Kevin's hand moved unconsciously to the Ring of Finality.
Kafka knows Tingyun isn't real.
"Am I?" Kafka's smile widened again, playful and dangerous.
She took a step back, hands still behind her back, completely relaxed despite the sudden tension crackling through the air.
Her right hand moved to her side. A sword materialized, sleek, elegant, with a slightly curved blade that caught the light from the windows.
She held it loosely, almost casually, the smile never leaving her face.
"Well then." Her voice was light, almost playful. "Shall we?"
March didn't wait.
Her bow materialized in her hands, arrow already nocked. She loosed it immediately, a shot of pure ice streaking toward Kafka.
Kafka tilted her head. The sword moved lazily, deflecting the arrow with a soft clink. The ice shattered harmlessly against the floor.
Stelle charged from the right, bat raised.
Kafka's smile widened. She sidestepped, her movements fluid and unhurried. Stelle's bat whistled through empty air.
Welt moved in from the left, cane sweeping low toward Kafka's legs.
Kafka hopped backward, landing lightly on her feet. Her sword traced a lazy arc through the air, not attacking, just moving. Keeping them at bay with minimal effort.
"Come now," she said, that playful tone still in her voice. "You can do better than that."
March fired again. Three arrows in rapid succession.
Kafka's sword flashed. Once. Twice. Three times. Each arrow deflected with precise, economical movements. No wasted motion. No excess force.
But something was off.
Stelle noticed it first. The way Kafka's stance was too open. The way she left openings deliberately. The way her footwork, while graceful, positioned her poorly for defense.
She's not trying to win.
Stelle pressed forward, swinging her bat in a wide arc.
Kafka blocked with her sword, but the angle was wrong. The impact sent her sliding back several steps, boots scraping against the floor.
She was still smiling.
Welt came in immediately, his cane striking high. Kafka raised her sword to parry—
March's ice arrow hit her from the side.
Not the arrow itself, but the explosion of frost that erupted on impact. Ice crawled up Kafka's left arm, freezing it in place.
Kafka glanced at the ice, then at March. "Nice shot."
She swung her sword with her right hand, shattering the ice on her left arm. Shards scattered across the floor.
But the delay had cost her.
Stelle was already there, bat swinging low.
Kafka tried to dodge, but her movement was sluggish. Deliberate. The bat connected with her side, not full force, but enough to make her stumble.
Welt's cane swept her legs out from under her.
Kafka hit the ground, rolling immediately. She came up in a crouch, sword still in hand, still smiling.
"You're working well together," she said, almost proud. "Much better than I expected."
March nocked another arrow, this one glowing with concentrated cold. "Stop talking and fight seriously!"
"But I am fighting seriously." Kafka stood, brushing dust from her coat with her free hand. "This is just how it is."
She moved again.
This time faster. Her sword cut through the air in a precise arc toward Stelle.
Stelle raised her bat to block—
The sword stopped just short, pulling back at the last second.
Kafka spun, her blade sweeping toward March instead.
March created an ice shield. The sword struck it, frost exploding outward. Kafka used the momentum to flip backward, putting distance between them.
Welt was already there.
His cane caught Kafka mid-flip, striking her shoulder. She twisted in the air, landing awkwardly on one knee.
Still smiling.
"You're quite good with that cane, Welt," she said, standing slowly. "Old habits?"
Welt didn't respond. Just adjusted his glasses and moved forward again.
The fight continued.
March fired from range, ice arrows forcing Kafka to move, to dodge, to stay on the defensive. Stelle and Welt pressed close, bat and cane working in tandem, one high, one low, forcing Kafka to choose which to block.
And every time, Kafka chose wrong.
Not obviously. Her technique was still flawless. Her movements still graceful. But her decisions were poor. She blocked when she should have dodged. Dodged when she should have parried. Left herself open when she should have pressed an advantage.
And through it all, she kept smiling.
Like this was exactly what she wanted.
An ice arrow grazed her cheek. A thin line of red appeared.
Stelle's bat struck her ribs. Kafka gasped but didn't stop moving.
Welt's cane swept her feet again. This time she didn't roll away fast enough.
March's ice encased her sword arm, freezing it to the ground.
Kafka knelt there, her free hand resting on her knee, breathing slightly harder but still smiling.
"Well," she said, looking up at them. "I suppose that's enough."
Hidden in the shadows near the corridor entrance, Tingyun watched.
Her green eyes were sharp, calculating. She hadn't moved during the entire fight. Hadn't helped. Just observed.
Her tail swished once, slowly.
From his position in the adjacent corridor, Kevin watched Kafka kneel.
She threw that fight.
It was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. The deliberate mistakes. The poor positioning. The smile that never wavered.
She wanted to be caught.
Which meant Elio had planned for this too. Kafka being captured was part of the script.
Kevin's eyes shifted to where Tingyun was hiding.
And Phantylia knows it.
Stelle stood over Kafka, bat still raised. "Why?"
Kafka looked up at her, that smile softening into something almost genuine.
"Because this is where I need to be."
She shattered the ice with a pulse of energy from her free hand. Stood slowly. Her sword dissolved into particles of light.
Then she raised both hands.
Two guns materialized in her grip. Sleek. Elegant. Gleaming under the observation deck's light.
The crew tensed. March drew her bow. Stelle raised her bat. Welt shifted into a defensive stance.
Kafka held the guns loosely, pointed at nothing in particular. That smile never wavered.
"Finally."
One word. Soft. Almost relieved.
Then she fired.
Not at anyone specific. In all directions. Bullets sprayed across the observation deck, ricocheting off walls, shattering windows, screaming through the air in chaotic arcs.
March dove left. Stelle threw herself behind a pillar. Welt raised a barrier of gravity, catching several bullets mid-flight. Tingyun vanished behind cover, her movements too quick, too practiced.
Kevin didn't move from the shadows. The bullets weren't aimed at him. Weren't aimed at anyone, really.
What is she...
Then he sensed it.
A presence. Dropping from above.
A flash of pink.
Someone fell from the upper level, plummeting straight into the chaos. Small frame. Pink hair streaming behind her. Eyes fixed on the bullets still flying through the air.
She raised one hand.
The air twisted.
Every bullet, every single one of them, changed direction. Mid-flight. Simultaneously. As if reality itself had been rewritten.
The bullets curved away from the crew. Away from Tingyun. Away from Kevin's hiding spot. They struck the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Spots where no one stood. No one was harmed.
The girl landed.
The impact was heavier than her small frame suggested. She straightened immediately, back rigid, chin raised. Pink hair fell past her shoulders, and a third eye glowed faintly on her forehead.
Her expression was cold. Imperious. Like she was looking down at everyone despite her short stature.
"Fu Xuan." Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Divination Commission."
She didn't look at the crew. Didn't acknowledge them at all. Her eyes were fixed solely on Kafka.
"I'll be taking this criminal from here."