Melon Encounters

Quill's PoV:

I can't help but shake my head at Dorito's nonchalance. "And you just left her there?" I ask, my mind reeling from the revelations of our brief discussion.

"Don't worry," he says, stroking the new food processor that just arrived. "She's a resilient girly. She should be fine." His fingers glide over the sleek design of the machine.

Ignoring the fool, I scroll rapidly through the pad. As expected, a news article catches my eye. I pluck the information ball with my fingers and toss it into the center of the room. The projector snags it mid-air, displaying it for all to see.

"Forbidden tech user apprehended; two in custody" blares the headline. At the bottom of the page, the tower with two daggers behind it stands out—the sign that this article belongs to Lysium.

"This can't be a coincidence," I mutter.

Dorito finally turns his head. Scanning the article, he just mehs and returns to analyzing the food processor. A few seconds pass. The gears in his head finally start spinning and he realizes what he read. He does a double take. And the panic takes over him.

"Gotta get them out," he says. "She saw my face!"

"And whose fault is that?" I argue, my body trembling in rage. The fool could have saved the woman without exposing himself. He could have done it from a distance or at least hide his form and leave behind only a hazy after image. But nooo. He had to show off like the big piece of Dorito he is.

I clench my fists, trying to keep my composure. "I'm going!" he adds.

"You are not going anywhere!" I snap, my voice absolute. "You've done enough. It's my turn to step up!" I rise from my seat, determination coursing through my veins.

Dorito nods, seemingly accepting my decision. Then his eyes widen, panic washing over his face.

"What?" I ask, exasperation creeping into my tone.

"N-nothing," he stammers, swishing his hand. All his belongings vanish, sucked into his dimensional pocket.

"The hell are you doing now?" I demand, my confusion and frustration mounting by the second.

"Preparing to flee," he replies matter-of-factly. "Every time you go out, there's a 50% chance a catastrophe will hit."

I want to slap the living hell out of Dorito, but I hesitate. As much as I hate to admit it, that probability is actually even higher. My mind races, recalling past incidents where my mere presence seemed to attract chaos and destruction.

Still, I can't let his paranoia stop me from doing what needs to be done. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the task ahead.

Dorito eyes me warily, his hand hovering near his pocket dimension. "And what exactly is your plan? Waltz into a high-security facility and break them out?"

I pause, realizing I haven't thought that far ahead. "I'll... figure it out on the way. The important thing is to act now before it's too late."

"Enough," Lala says, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I'll deal with the situation."

I watch as Lala emerges from her room, dressed in a casual white hoodie. My heart swells with pride and affection. Ever since Eve's revelations, my daughter has been acting more like a normal girl and less like the cold, detached person she used to be.

Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the determination in them. "I like this world," she continues, her voice trailing off momentarily. "Can't let it be destroyed just because you lost your way and saw some unsavory things by chance."

Her words cut through me like a hot knife. I can't help but protest, "That happened only once!"

Lala's piercing gaze pins me down, and I feel myself wilting under her scrutiny.

"Okay... Maybe two or three times," I admit sheepishly. Then, unable to help myself, I add, "But definitely less than ten."

Lala sighs, shaking her head as she walks towards the door. As she leaves us behind, I'm faced with a dilemma: should I follow her?

The answer comes to me immediately - an absolute, resounding 'No.'

Over the past nine months, I've come to understand the level of danger these mortals and their technology are capable of. Capital ships and high-caliber weaponry are certainly a problem, but they can't be used in highly populated areas. As for everything else, they're almost completely useless against someone at the peak of the foundation establishment stage like Lala.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that my daughter is more than capable of handling this situation. Still, I can't help but worry. It's what fathers do, after all - even if she won't call me that.

I watch Lala leave, but can't shake this gnawing feeling in my gut. Call it parental instinct or centuries of cultivation experience, but something feels off. While she's distracted adjusting her hoodie, I discreetly weave a small tracking array into the fabric. The spiritual threads blend seamlessly with the material - undetectable unless you know exactly what to look for.

Through the array's connection, I observe Lala's movements. Instead of heading straight to Lysium as expected, she makes her way to a busy street corner in the commercial district. An augmented insectoid stands there, his multiple mechanical limbs simultaneously operating six different data pads with practiced efficiency.

As Lala approaches, all eight pairs of compound eyes lock onto her. Though the creature maintains a professional demeanor, I notice his defensive systems powering up - plates shifting subtly beneath his carapace, ready to deploy at a moment's notice.

Lala stops a few meters away. "Tell Nor I want to talk with him." Her voice carries that familiar cold indifference.

The tension in the insectoid's posture eases slightly. One set of arms taps rapidly at a pad, mandibles clicking softly. "Consider it done," he responds, his words coming out in a strange hiss.

Minutes tick by in silence. Then a sleek black vehicle descends from the upper traffic lanes, its anti-grav systems humming quietly. Without hesitation, Lala steps inside. The door seals shut and the vehicle accelerates smoothly upward, heading toward the imposing silhouette of Lysium.

The whirling of the new food processor pulls my attention away from the tracking array. Soul snickers beside me, his orange-tinted skin gleaming under the ambient light. He picks up his tab and sends a data stream to the processor with practiced ease. A light array generates the item seemingly from nothing, molecules assembling in a dance of photons and matter.

This technology still baffles me - I can't grasp even the basics of molecular reconstruction. And here it is, this miracle being used to create food, of all things. The sheer computational power required to arrange atoms with such precision makes my head spin.

Not that I'm complaining.

The old processor couldn't recreate foods based on description alone, but this one can interpret taste memories and chemical compositions. And right before me sits one of those items I've yearned to taste again but never managed to recreate in all my years since Earth.

Soul picks up the large bucket generated by the processor and plops down next to me on the sofa, his considerable weight making the cushions dip. The synthetic butter aroma fills the air around us.

I pull the vision stream from the array and toss it ahead with a subtle gesture, transforming it into a projector-style view that fills the far wall with crystal-clear imagery.

'Crunch' 'Crunch' 'Crunch'

"Damn," Soul exclaims between bites, butter glistening on his lips. "These are really nice."

I pick up a kernel and place it in my mouth, letting the warmth and salt dissolve on my tongue. The taste isn't perfect, but after more than a century, I can't be sure my memories are even accurate anymore. Perhaps the popcorn I remember from my youth has been idealized by time.

Even so... "Popcorn slaps," I say, reaching for another handful.

"Yes it does!" Soul nods enthusiastically, already halfway through the bucket. "Especially with a nice show!"

I watch through the tracking array as the vehicle carrying Lala ascends Lysium's impossibly tall structure. The tower stretches so high it pierces the cloud layer, its upper sections barely visible even with my enhanced perception. Rather than stopping at ground level, the vehicle continues upward until it reaches the very top, just beneath the city's protective shield.

The scene shifts as Lala exits the vehicle. A small army of heavily augmented guards surrounds her, their weapons systems humming with barely contained energy. Y

"Interesting," I mutter, picking up another handful of popcorn.

"Boss is in a meeting," the guard says, his voice professional despite the slight tremor in it. "Please allow us to escort you to the VIP waiting room."

Lala's response is characteristically cold. "Very well."

The elevator's glacial pace catches my attention immediately. For a building of this scale, such slow movement seems deliberately engineered rather than a flaw.

Over fifty augmented enforcers pack themselves into the elevator around my daughter. Despite their impressive armaments and enhanced bodies, fear radiates from them. Their trigger fingers twitch nervously, and some of the weaker ones visibly shake.

After a few minutes, I notice Lala's patience wearing thin. Her brow furrows slightly - a tell I recognize from when she was little.

"This is getting annoying," she states flatly. The enforcers exchange nervous glances. "I'm going ahead."

Before they can properly aim their weapons, Lala activates the formation array in her heel. The reinforced floor gives way as she carves a perfect circle, dropping through it. Plasma fire erupts from above, but her defensive array springs to life, creating an impenetrable shield over her head.

I watch through the projection as Lala's divine sense expands outward, rippling through Lysium's structure. Even from this distance, I can feel the subtle fluctuations in the spiritual energy. Her power might not match the other cultivators, but it's enough to scan the building.

A frown crosses her face, and I understand why. The one she is looking for, leader of Lysium and by extension Ebber's Ridge, Nor, isn't there. What's more concerning is the building's weak defenses. For the central hub of Ebber's Ridge, having just one Tier 4 psycher and a handful of lesser ones seems criminally negligent.

"She still has so much to learn," Soul mumbles beside me, crunching another handful of popcorn. The greasy orange sheen of his skin catches the light as he stuffs his face, crumbs falling onto his robes.

"She's 25," I remind him, watching as she continues her descent. "I was far worse at her age." The memory of my own early cultivation attempts makes me wince internally.

Lala reaches terminal velocity, but instead of slowing down, she does something unexpected. Her divine sense contracts to its minimum, compressing into a concentrated beam. Like a scanner, she sweeps it through the building sector by sector, the focused divine sense providing unprecedented detail and range.

"Damn," Soul says, genuine admiration in his voice. His usual mockery gives way to something approaching respect. "She is a fast learner." He turns to me with that insufferable grin. "Far faster than you."

I slap the back of his head, hard enough to make him choke on his popcorn. The satisfying thwack echoes in the air between us. "Never. And I repeat never tell anyone about the frog incident." Just thinking about that particular disaster makes my ears burn with embarrassment.

But Soul just keeps snickering like an old coyote, completely unfazed by my warning. His wheezing laughter only serves to remind me why, even after all these years as fellow elders, he still manages to get under my skin.

I watch through the projection as Lala's divine sense suddenly shifts downward. Her eyes narrow, focusing on something far below - a cavity or cave system hidden beneath kilometers of rock and soil. The discovery seems to frustrate her, and she immediately redirects her attention upward. There, at the very top of Lysium, sits a dormant wormhole generator.

"They got me," she mutters, her face twisting with anger.

Instead of ascending to reach the generator, her fingers begin an intricate dance through the air, each motion precise and deliberate. The sight makes my breath catch in my throat - I recognize those movements all too well, but they shouldn't be possible for someone at her cultivation level. Not even close.

Light and darkness swirl around her form as temporal sand materializes, cocooning her body in a chrysalis of shifting possibilities. Space itself warps and buckles as twin arrays spring into existence above and below the cocoon. They spin in perfect synchronization, their dance devoid of color or warmth, yet somehow more mesmerizing than any light show.

The arrays merge in a brilliant flash, leaving behind only a gray lance rotating at impossible speeds, its form barely holding together under the strain of temporal manipulation. Then it accelerates downward, faster and faster, breaking through barrier after barrier of what should be physically possible.

Just before impact with the ground, reality ripples like water disturbed by an unseen stone, and the lance simply phases out of existence, leaving not even a trace of its passage through our dimension.

Beside me, Soul chokes violently on his popcorn, bits of kernel spraying from his mouth. "Are you kidding me," he sputters, his face contorted in shock and disbelief. "Have you taught her how to manipulate the laws of time? That's forbidden knowledge!"

"Nope," I reply, unable to keep the pride from my voice as I watch my daughter's handiwork. "She understood it by herself."

I watch with a mix of pride and concern as Soul's jaw drops at Lala's display. He knows as well as I do that what she just did shouldn't be possible at her level. Time manipulation is one of the most dangerous and forbidden arts for a reason.

"She could get trapped forever," Soul whispers, his usual mockery replaced by genuine worry. "The temporal displacement alone could-"

"She won't," I cut him off, my voice firm with certainty. "I've anchored her timeline to mine."

Soul's eyes widen as understanding dawns. "You... you're using yourself as a temporal anchor? That's insane! If anything goes wrong-"

"Nothing will go wrong," I state, watching the projection intently. "The moment she phases out, my consciousness automatically syncs with hers. If she starts drifting too far forward in time, I can pull her back. It's like having a safety rope while climbing - she can explore freely knowing she won't fall into the void."

"When did you even set this up?"

"The day I met her for the first time." I smile at the memory. "It's not just about safety. Through our connection, she can feel the flow of time as I do. That's how she learned to manipulate it."

Soul shakes his head in disbelief. "You're both crazy."

"Maybe," I concede, watching as Lala's temporal signature stabilizes in the subspace. "But she's safe. That's all that matters."

I watch through the projection as the temporal cocoon explodes outward, scattering fragments of improbability across the cavern. Lala emerges unharmed, her form materializing in a vast underground chamber. The scene unfolds before me through our connected divine sense - artificial lights cast a soft glow across the smoothly polished floor, highlighting intricate patterns etched into the stone.

Exotic plants fill every corner, their leaves swaying gently in an artificial breeze. Scantily clad women move with practiced grace through the foliage, their revealing costumes leaving little to imagination. They acknowledge Lala with slight bows before continuing their tasks, treating her presence as unremarkable.

Steam begins to curl around Lala's feet as she moves deeper into the cave. The mist parts to reveal a massive pool ahead, its surface rippling with movement. My divine sense picks up the sound of laughter and splashing - hundreds of young women playing in the water, their unaugmented bodies a stark contrast to the cybernetic-enhanced population above.

Through our connection, I feel Lala's surprise. This wasn't what she expected to find. The women show no signs of distress or mistreatment. Their skin is unmarred by the usual mechanical ports and implants so common in this age, maintaining a natural beauty that's become increasingly rare.

In the center of the subterranean lake stands a man, flanked by two women with flowing hair that cascades like silk in the water. Despite his thin frame and lack of visible augmentations, even I recognize the big boss immediately - Nor's presence commands attention even in this casual setting.

"You've made quite a heaven for yourself down here, Nor," Lala's voice carries across the water, as she stops at the pool's edge. The echo bounces off the cave walls, making her words seem more accusatory than perhaps intended.

Through the projection, I watch as Nor wades through the water, his thin frame barely making ripples on the surface. His glasses catch the dim light, giving him an almost predatory gleam.

"A man gotta know how to relax once in a while," he adds with a smirk that speaks volumes about his recreational activities.

Lala's face scrunches up, her nose wrinkling in that way it always does when she's truly disgusted. "I thought you were more refined, but this is..." She waves her hand at the scene before her, at the dozens of women splashing and playing. "Disappointing."

"Everyone should have an image for the public." Nor reaches out, spanking the two girls by his side with practiced familiarity. They giggle and swim away from him, their movements graceful and practiced. "And one for himself."

My stomach drops as I watch Lala's face contort with disgust, her azure eyes narrowing dangerously. "You remind me of dad," she says, each word dripping with judgment. "He used to act just like you, every time when he went out with Dusk."

"Ooh!" Nor's eyes light up like a child discovering sweets. "A man of my liking. You really gotta introduce me to him." His enthusiasm is almost infectious, if it weren't so mortifying.

Beside me on the couch, Soul starts choking on his popcorn, his face turning red as tears stream down his face while he wheezes with laughter. I feel heat creeping up my neck, my face burning despite my usual composure. The memories of those wild nights with Dusk flood back unbidden.

"What kind of father am I?" I groan, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide from both the memories and Soul's merciless amusement.

Soul wipes his eyes, still cackling like a hyena at my expense. "A really embarrassing one," he manages between gasps, clearly enjoying my discomfort far too much.

I watch through the projection as Nor wades through the water towards Lala. One of his companions brings him a white robe, which he slips on casually. The wet fabric clings to his form, becoming nearly transparent. Through our connection, I feel Lala's revulsion spike.

"So," Nor's eyes travel over my daughter's body in a way that makes my blood boil, "what brings you here?"

Lala maintains her composure, her voice steady despite her disgust. "Looking for someone."

A knowing smirk crosses Nor's face. "Let me guess," he snaps his fingers, "the hag and the kitty?"

Two cages rise from the ground with a mechanical whir. Inside stand Eve and Issabele, pressed against the bars but appearing unharmed. Lala's divine sense, confirms they're physically fine.

'Clink'

The cages spring open. "They are all yours, my dear Lala," Nor says with a flourish.

I feel Lala's divine sense probe deeper. She discovers two devices, one near each prisoner's heart and brain stem. Even without technical knowledge, the implications are clear - explosive failsafes.

Nor towers over Lala slightly, forcing her to look up at his face. "What do you want?" she demands, her eyes blazing with fury.

He bows, reaching out to capture a strand of her violet hair. The sight of him bringing it to his nose makes my stomach turn. His eyes lock onto hers. "You. I want you."

I feel Lala's spike of terror as she stumbles backward, her body trembling with a mix of fear and rage.

"Become mine," Nor's voice drops to a silky whisper. "Together we can rule far beyond this mere moon."