Just How Many Monsters Are in the Divine Court? Himeko Can't Sleep

"Sounds like there are plenty of fun punching bags~"

The little girl's voice was bright and crisp, full of carefree amusement.

Her two small canine teeth gleamed white beneath the carriage lights.

Himeko stood a few steps away.

At those words, her fingers tightened around the empty tray.

Her nails scraped across the metal grooves underneath it with a harsh, dull rasp.

She looked at the white-haired little girl draped over the back of the sofa.

The girl's sunglasses had slipped to the tip of her nose.

There was not a trace of childish innocence in those pale blue eyes.

Only the cruelty of someone who treated lives like building blocks she could knock over at will.

Himeko felt as though a slab of ice had pressed against her back.

The chill climbed her spine, vertebra by vertebra, and shot into the back of her head.

She forced her stiff lips into a smile and tried to keep her voice as gentle as usual.

"Everyone... just went through a battle. You must all be tired."

Himeko swallowed against her dry throat.

"I'll make everyone some coffee."

She turned, her heels sinking into the red velvet carpet.

Her strides were too long; her usual calm elegance had deserted her.

As she turned, her left heel even caught on the edge of the carpet.

Himeko caught the mahogany handrail beside her and barely steadied herself.

She did not dare look back. She hurried out of the observation car.

The ceiling lights in the corridor cast a soft, warm glow.

But Himeko felt cold all over.

Her heels struck the metal floor, their echoes filling the long, narrow passage.

One step. Two.

She walked faster and faster, almost breaking into a run before she reached her bedroom.

The airtight door closed behind her.

It gave a soft hiss as the pressure equalized.

Himeko leaned against the metal door and let out a long, shaky breath.

Even the air deep in her lungs seemed to tremble.

She went to the solid-wood desk.

With practiced movements, she started the small coffee machine and dropped in two coffee pods.

The machine hummed as it ground them.

Hot water flowed into the grounds with a faint hiss.

Thick white steam rose, fogging the machine's metal panel.

The bitter aroma of coffee soon filled the cramped room.

Usually, that scent calmed her. Now it did nothing for the turmoil in her stomach.

Himeko picked up a white porcelain cup and held it beneath the spout.

Dark coffee streamed into the bottom of the cup.

But her wrist was shaking.

Badly.

The cup's rim kept striking the machine's metal spout.

The sharp clinks sounded painfully clear in the room.

Gritting her teeth, Himeko gripped her shaking wrist with her other hand.

Only then could she set the cup steadily on the desk.

She pulled out the leather swivel chair and sat down.

Her fingers flew across the Holographic Keyboard, calling up the train Data Bank's low-level access permissions.

A blue Holographic Screen lit up, illuminating her pale face.

It showed footage captured by surveillance cameras outside Herta Space Station.

The image was blurry; the energy field had interfered with all the station's instruments at the time.

But that blue sphere of light was still clear enough to steal her breath.

Himeko dragged the progress bar back and froze the footage at the instant the sphere burst.

She opened the physical-parameter analysis tool in the sidebar.

Her fingers raced over the keyboard, entering the concepts Welt had mentioned.

The origin of space. Gravitational collapse. Absolute repulsion.

She tried to build a mathematical model based on Zeno's Turtle to explain that "Limitless" defense.

The processor began running at full power.

The progress bar stalled at ninety-nine percent.

The coordinate axes twisted violently on the screen, and the function curve knotted into an endless tangle.

A beep sounded.

A mass of glaring red warning boxes appeared on the screen.

[Error: Spatial distance divided infinitely; mass parameter cannot be defined.]

Himeko refused to give up.

She pushed the coffee cup aside and opened a different analytical framework based on quantum mechanics.

This time, she isolated the purple beam that had torn through Outer Space.

The footage replayed silently on the screen.

Purple light swept past, and the massive Antimatter Legion Commander and more than a hundred warships evaporated in an instant.

Himeko entered the Antimatter Legion Commander's armor strength and antimatter yield.

She tried to calculate the minimum destructive power of that purple beam.

The main cannon of an Interastral Peace Corporation planet-killing ship?

The Xianzhou Alliance's Jade Calculation Array?

She compared it against the data for every known weapon of mass Destruction.

The Data Bank terminal's cooling fan spun wildly.

A beastlike roar came from the computer case, and scorching air poured from its vents.

Three minutes later, the screen froze again.

A line of cold text appeared.

[Conclusion: The physical laws within the target area were rewritten. No quantifiable energy exchange occurred.]

This was not physical Destruction.

That monster had not been blown apart. The very concept of its existence had been erased.

Himeko stared at the words on the screen.

Her breathing grew heavier.

Her chest heaved like a broken bellows.

Acid rose in her throat.

She picked up the cup on the desk, hoping a drink would settle her stomach.

Before the cup reached her lips,

her wrist jerked again.

Scalding black coffee spilled out.

The brown liquid splashed over the back of her hand, reddening a wide patch of skin.

More coffee spread across the desk, soaking several paper star charts before running over the edge.

It dripped onto the white carpet she always took such care of.

A dirty brown stain bloomed across it.

Himeko did not reach for a tissue.

She could not even feel the searing pain on the back of her hand.

Only a few words spun relentlessly through her mind.

The Imaginary Divine Court. The Seventh Seat.

If just one Seventh Seat could fit space together like building blocks,

stretch distance infinitely so that no attack could ever touch her,

and do it without consuming any external source of energy,

then what about the six above her?

The Female Lord who had stood amid the ruins and casually scolded the Seventh Seat.

She was only the Fourth Seat.

With a casual pinch of her fingers, the Fourth Seat had formed a rocky celestial body capable of smashing through the station's dome.

The sight of her pinning the Doomsday Beast dead with a single shot was more horrifying than any horror film.

Worse still was her attitude.

The Female Lord had looked at the Doomsday Beast as though it were a pest she could crush on a whim.

She could not only control rock; she possessed a divine pressure that made Himeko's soul tremble at a mere glance.

Then what about the Third Seat?

The Second?

The one who had set the Divine Court's rules and left these monsters, capable of tearing stars apart with their bare hands, too cowed to voice a single complaint.

The one called the "First Seat."

What in the universe was he?

An Aeon?

But the Female Lord had made it perfectly clear while holding her teacup in the VIP Lounge.

They merely gazed upon the Aeons.

Himeko's fingers dug into the armrest of the leather chair.

Her nails scored deep white marks in the leather.

Sweat filled the gaps between her fingers.

The Ten Stonehearts of the Interastral Peace Corporation?

The Xianzhou Alliance's six generals?

The Antimatter Legion's Lord Ravagers?

She ran through every major power in the sea of stars.

And realized, with a sinking heart,

Beside the words "Imaginary Divine Court," these universe-shaking names seemed so insubstantial.

If the Divine Court grew bored, it could turn this sea of stars upside down whenever it pleased.

If its members decided one day that the Astral Express would make a fun punching bag too,

who could stop them?

Welt's Pseudo Black Hole? Dan Heng's spear? Or March 7th's Six-Phased Ice?

The Female Lord's cool voice from the corridor still echoed in Himeko's ears.

That lofty arrogance with which she called the Antimatter Legion's war a squabble between ants.

It had not been an empty show of strength.

It was the absolute coldness that came from truly holding the blade of Destruction, capable of destroying the universe.

And now, the most unpredictable wielder of such a blade

—that white-haired little monster who could conjure a spatial paradox with a flick of her hand—

was sitting on the sofa outside.

Eating candy and planning to find punching bags on Jarilo.

Himeko could not sleep.

Normally, she only had to lie down and listen to the rumble of the train's engines to drift off.

Now she was terrifyingly awake.

She raised both hands and pressed the heels of her palms hard against her throbbing temples.

She pressed with all her strength.

Two clear red marks appeared on her fair forehead.

Blood vessels pulsed beneath her skin, sending pain through her nerves.

She turned her head.

Outside the window lay the deep black starfield.

She let out a long sigh.

Just then, Pom-Pom's heavily nasal voice came over the carriage speakers:

"Attention, passengers. The train is about to make a spatial jump. Please return to your respective cars, pom!"