Teyvat.
Inside the restaurant at Natlan's Sacred Flame Arena.
"Oh my god! These two are actually arguing?" Ajaw hovered in midair, holding a skewer of sizzling, oil-dripping roasted beast meat in both hands, excitedly watching the two people on the Celestial Screen who were at daggers drawn.
"If you ask me, arguing won't solve anything—so just fight it out! Whoever wins gets to decide about the Simulated Universe!"
Kinich reached out, grabbed Ajaw by the leg, and tossed him behind: "Don't yell like that. That Madam Herta is an Emanator of Erudition, Ajaw. You should know that when spectating battles at the Emanator level, you need to prepare some protective measures first, right?"
Last time when Phantylia crushed the stars, most of the spectators in Natlan went blind—even the dragons weren't spared. Ajaw had screamed especially fiercely. If the abundant power from the Ambrosial Arbor hadn't healed his eyes later, he probably wouldn't have had peace for the rest of his life.
Since then, a consensus had formed in Natlan: whenever an Emanator fought, no matter how big or small the matter, at least one pair of anti-glare goggles was mandatory.
"Emanator? Doesn't that make it even more exciting?" Ajaw flipped in the air, circling with exaggerated tone. "But her trash-talking level is way too low, right? A dignified Emanator, and that's it? That's it?"
"If it were me, I'd curse this Screwllum like this!" He cleared his throat, imitating Herta's puffed-up appearance:
"Screwllum, shut your lowly rotten mouth, you gloomy idiot! Stingy lump of metal who won't even change your lubricant! If it weren't for the fact you're a jammed-gear mechanical moron, I, Herta, would have spun spun spun—spun you to death long ago!"
Kinich seemed long accustomed to it, merely raising an eyebrow slightly: "You said so much, but your insults aren't even that harsh."
"Hah??! Kinich, you stubborn wild—"
Ajaw was just about to unleash a barrage when Kinich grabbed him and tossed him into a cage for timeout, confiscating his roasted meat along the way.
——
["Herta, I have no intention of questioning you, nor will I deny the efforts you once put into the Simulated Universe. I simply hope to give knowledge more space to grow freely—"]
["Enough!" Herta interrupted him furiously. "If you don't want to do it, then get out. Go tell the other two yourself... oh, and take your technology with you—I don't need it."]
[Herta stormed out of the office in a huff, but suddenly screeched to a halt at the door.]
["Screwllum, after knowing each other for so long, this is the first time..." She slowly turned her face, the puppet's jawline drawing a sharp arc. "...I feel like you're just a cold piece of iron."]
[Seeing Stelle arrive, Screwllum promptly expressed his apologies to her. When Stelle asked about the reason, Screwllum only calmly said it was an academic disagreement between them. Disagreements often lead to obsession, and obsession hinders the formation of knowledge.]
["Are you worried about her mental state?"]
["I'm more worried about the mental state of the staff." Stelle glanced at Leonard trembling behind her.]
["Thank you for the humor—it helps ease the tense atmosphere." Screwllum shook his head. "Organic lifeforms' emotions are like tides; I failed to watch the moon's direction properly. Let Herta be alone for a while. It will benefit our subsequent discussions."]
[Stelle briefly explained the whole story to Screwllum. After a quick search, he stated that "Punklorde Mentality" was not an ordinary curio, but a love letter written to this universe by a Galaxy Ranger.]
[In Punklorde, "Aether Cartridges" are chips hackers use to edit reality, as well as records of their lives and proof of existence. The one contained in the space station belonged to one of the legends among them. The owner of the cartridge was a Galaxy Ranger who roamed the galaxy for long ages, wandering in all directions. The cartridge recorded a great deal of important information and was also part of the massive computational data in the Simulated Universe.]
[If they wanted to continue the investigation, heading to the Simulated Universe was the best way. Considering the Simulated Universe was about to be shut down by him, now was the only opportunity for investigation.]
——
The Boys.
"It's finally time to shut down this damn thing."
In the conference room on the top floor of Vought Tower, Homelander watched Screwllum's speech, a flash of delight in his blue eyes.
The Aeons appearing here—beings that surpassed Earth, even surpassed cognition—had already caused widespread panic across the globe. In no time, all sorts of organizations and factions sprang up like mushrooms after rain: some calling themselves "Masked Fools" who believed in Aha, others "Builders" following Preservation... anyway, far too many...
The key issue was that these organizations not only failed to help his approval ratings but even advocated opposing superhumans and turning to faith in the Aeons—this made his already declining support plummet even further.
Suddenly, Ashley pushed open the conference room door, inviting him to head down to the training room on the lower floors together. She had found a promising candidate for "Knight of the Pure" there.
"Hm."
The two descended together in the elevator. After pushing open a sealed large door, the noisy sounds of training immediately poured out. The training room was brightly lit, with various superhumans testing their abilities—some darting about rapidly, some demonstrating super hearing, others lifting barbells weighing several tons. The air was filled with the mingled scent of sweat and metal.
"You," Ashley pointed at a conspicuous figure, "come here."
The person turned around, his armor gleaming coldly under the overhead lights. He had a tall, slender build, fiery red long hair like burning flames, and features so handsome they seemed almost unreal. Medieval-style silver armor clung to his form, and he held an ornately decorated long spear in his hand.
"Mr. Homelander," his voice was low and elegant, carrying a hint of barely concealed excitement, "meeting you is truly my greatest honor."
"And you, my friend—you are the real hero." Homelander flashed a perfect smile, reaching out to pat his shoulder plate, the metal clinking crisply.
"Not bad." He narrowed his blue eyes slightly. "Ashley, introduce him to me."
"Um." Rarely seeing Homelander look so pleased, Ashley's heart that had been hanging in suspense could finally relax a little. "His ability is plant manipulation—he can make roots and vines of plants within five meters around him grow. We gave him plastic surgery at the fastest speed possible; that red hair was just dyed."
"Most importantly, this knight himself is part of the LGBTQ+ community, which can help us gain plenty of goodwill among the younger generation. His parents are a black same-sex couple, and they have considerable influence in the 50-year-old age group as well."