Sion's mystical Etherlite were moving in overdrive, more lively than ever before. They were no longer cool calculation tools but had become countless desperate, greedy tendrils striving to grasp, analyze, and understand the crimson behemoth in the sky.
But all efforts proved futile. Her division of thought, her ability to fragment and parallel process billions of hypotheses, suddenly felt utterly weak and helpless. All her logical assumptions about parallel processing failed the moment they met the conceptual extremity of the battleship.
At the same time, alarm bells representing geopolitics, international relations, and secrets and obfuscation blared loudly in her mind.
If such an enormous, unidentified flying object appeared over the Atlantic, even for an instant, it would surely incite worldwide panic and military conflict. The Mage's Association and the Holy Church's Execution Departments would already be on their way.
In the simulation vortex of panic among her many mental fragments, the man's calm voice rang out, like ice striking boiling water, forcibly cooling her thoughts.
"There's no need to worry about satellites photographing this," he said, as if reading her mind.
"This ship is from a parallel future world in 2030—designed by me."
"The internal electronic shielding and information jamming are sufficient to nullify all forms of detection in this era. All monitoring screens will simply show peace and quiet."
He paused, seeing directly through her worries. "Even if a hostile aircraft came by, any detection system capable of scanning the whole ocean would register its trace minutes in advance. I'd just activate the optical camouflage to avoid them."
"For a vessel like this, invisibility is as basic as breathing."
Hearing this, Sion fell silent. His explanations did not soothe her at all. Instead, they planted a more profound seed of despair—a technological gap.
It was not magic, nor was it a superpower—just pure, incomprehensible technology. A future system utterly unfathomable, but nonetheless logically consistent.
At that instant, her pride as an Atlas alchemist was shattered. Yet from the ruins of her pride, a deeper feeling surged—intellectual passion as a scholar.
"If you stay below, you'll never truly understand the whole picture."
"If you're that interested, why not come up for a closer look, master?"
"…I accept," Sion answered immediately. Logic told her to keep her distance, but the curiosity rooted deep within her soul had already made the choice for her.
She had to go up, to see with her own eyes, to touch this miracle from the future with her own hands.
Steve showed not a hint of surprise at her response. With practiced ease, he offered a graceful hand in invitation.
When Sion placed her cold fingertips into his warm palm, she felt a brief tremor disturb her spiritual threads—a strange mix of intimacy and unfamiliarity impossible to express in data form.
She suppressed this odd feeling and let him lead her.
With another practiced snap of his fingers, a point of light gleamed on the stern of the massive crimson battleship. It rapidly expanded as a sleek personal starship vertically descended, silently floating before them. Its hatch unfolded upward like wings.
The process of ascending into space was incredibly fast, and shockingly smooth.
Through the porthole, Sion watched as the outlines of the blue sea and the Wandering Sea shrank away beneath them, while the gigantic silhouette of the ship rapidly filled their entire field of view.
When the starship slid smoothly into an open hangar beneath the hull, she finally understood the true meaning of colossal. The hangar wasn't a bay—it was closer to an underground cavern large enough to house an entire town.
When the starship arrived and the hatch opened, Sion stepped onto the cold metallic deck—and was left utterly breathless.
She found herself within a vast space beyond words. The hangar stretched for hundreds of meters, brightly lit as if it were midday.
The air was clean and cool, tinged with engine oil and metal.
Dozens of uniformed robots—no, not humans, but precision-engineered autonomous workers—were going about orderly maintenance and repair tasks at their stations.
But what truly made her tremble, standing by either side of the hangar, were the silent steel giants that loomed there.
Lined up were rows of titanic humanoid combat machines, each dozens of meters tall. Some were massive as mountains, some lithe as panthers, but without exception, each exuded a cold, murderous aura—entities built purely to kill.
They were no golems, fashioned from arcane materials by magi, nor automata surviving from the age of gods. They were pure products of industrialization, mass-produced steel gods built solely for war.
"In my era, the Human Federation faced oppression from Earth."
"To fight back, I drew inspiration from ancient heritage… Like the heroes of Greek myth—Odysseus, or the artifact known as the Trojan Horse, as well as the ruins of modern civilization I excavated on Earth."
"Through reverse engineering and my own wisdom, humans created lances strong enough to challenge the gods themselves."
Sion's mind traced with lightning speed. Odysseus's Noble Phantasm? The records mention a colossal machine god forged of divine steel. That meant the man beside her had analyzed divine age technology and, combining it with lost relics from unknown civilizations, created the mass-producible Machine Gods right before her eyes.
What a crazy—yet utterly brilliant—concept.
Steve, still leading her, guided Sion through the cavernous hangar and finally stopped before the most eye-catching machine in the room.
It was painted a bold, intimidating crimson that seemed to radiate power. Its massive shoulders projected strength, and its back was equipped with wing-like thrusters and six floating cannons. An antenna reminiscent of a unicorn's horn signaled its command role.
Smooth curves combined with explosive design, marking its special status as a trump card.
"This is my personal unit. I named it Sazabi."
There was a subtle fondness and pride in Steve's voice. "Among all the mobile suits that ever existed, this is the mightiest, custom-built just for me."
Looking up at the giant red Sazabi, Sion could immediately sense its terrifying power—enough to level a city.
This supreme commander, the leader of the Human Federation, was not just a strategist but likely an ace pilot as well.
Sensing her thoughts, Steve laughed softly, with a touch of regret. "However, even so… the Federation I commanded never faced a crisis so dire that I, the supreme commander, had to personally enter battle."
"So this machine has never set foot on the actual battlefield, except during personal simulation training."
"Frankly—when I think about it, I do feel a little… lonely."
At these words, Sion fell silent once again. She lowered her head, gazed at their joined hands, then at the scarlet Sazabi, and finally returned her gaze to the man beside her.
In that moment, she finally gave up her futile attempts to understand this man with existing knowledge.
She would now act only as a student and a witness, quietly accepting everything before her—events that surpassed both time and common sense.
After all, her Servant was an absolute victor who once ruled the stars and forged gods of steel—and yet, never needed to step onto the battlefield himself.