The Legendary Class-SSS Mecha

With Irish in her corner, Lena could finally chill out a bit.

They still had to toss the military and Draven something to chew on, though.

Irish cooked up a fake report right then and there, slapping a solid Class-B on Lena's mental power.

With a few quick taps, she slid it into the military's system like it was no big deal.

Watching her glide through their defenses, Lena half-wondered if Irish treated the military's network like her own backyard.

B was perfect—strong enough to get Lena into the Academy's command program without Talia or Draven batting an eye.

Job done. Irish snagged the testing rig to hand back to Draven and took off, leaving Lena by herself.

For the first time in hours, Lena let her walls down.

The mental power test had wiped her out, and the exhaustion hit her hard, sinking into her bones.

She flopped onto the edge of her bed, staring out at the sunset spilling through the window. Day was turning into night.

Her brain drifted back to the test—the crazy apocalyptic vision.

The sharp pain, the sizzling acid, the little girl's screams, the Mutant Beast's growls—they all crashed back into her head, clear as day.

She shook it off, trying to clear her mind, but then a real burn kicked in.

On her finger. The snake-patterned ring was heating up, searing her skin like a hot poker.

Before she could rip it off, a bright flash shot out of it.

The ring stayed stuck on her hand, but something else popped up on the floor—a fluffy white ball. Two ears perked up, then big, round grape-colored eyes blinked at her.

A Samoyed puppy just… appeared. And then he opened his mouth. "So, you're the next master Odin dumped me on.

Lena wasn't sure what was wilder: a ring spitting out a dog or the fact that the dog was talking. Either way, this was her life now.

She squatted down, grabbed the pup by the scruff, and lifted it up while she paced.

"Look, I'm not big on messing with dogs," she said, keeping her tone even, "but if you're a talking one, you better tell me who you are and where you came from."

She swung him out the window for good measure.

The pup yelped, curling up into a tight little fluffball. "Ugh, Odin handed me off to a chick just as nasty as him! Put me down already!"

His complaining didn't shake her. She kept her grip steady.

Realizing he was stuck, the Samoyed caved. "Alright, fine. Name's Snowball, male. I'm the slickest, most badass mecha in the galaxy. My last master was Odin—not a bad dude, I guess, made it to admiral or whatever. Can you let me go now?"

Lena's face didn't budge. "And why do you look like a dog?"

"It's Odin's fault!" it yapped. "He stuck me in this dumb dog body! My real form—my mecha form—I don't even know where it's at! I've been cooped up in that ring on your finger. You finally flipped on your mental power today, so I could at least pull this much off!"

Lena yanked her arm back inside—mostly because it was getting tired—and gave the puffball a hard look as he slumped in relief.

She wasn't done yet. "Prove it. How do I know you're not just making this up?"

Snowball's little dog face froze, like he was racking his brain.

After a beat, he tilted his head. "How about I spill some tea on Odin Astérios? That guy's got some dirt."

Odin Astérios—Admiral Odin. Violet's hero, the one Lena had played along about with her the other day. Now she was listening.

Lena clicked her opticomputer and pulled up Admiral Odin's bio:

The Empire's founding marshal, top of the heap. War buddy and BFF to Emperor Augustus Galerius. The guy who kicked off Gungnir.

And—here's the kicker—he piloted one of the world's Class-S+ mechas at the time: Snowball.

She slid a glance at the Samoyed pup sprawled at her feet, then back to the screen.

The opticomputer spun up a sim holographic sim of Snowball's mecha form—a pristine white beast that screamed mecha perfection.

Snowball huffed, glaring at the projection. "Honestly, that sim's not half as cool as a single bolt on my real body."

A legend like Odin, though? His story cut off sharp. At thirty-five, he vanished—poof—while piloting Snowball. No trace, no explanation.

"So," Lena said, leaning forward, "where'd Odin take you in the end?"

Snowball's fluffy face drooped, eyes going misty. "He said he was gonna kill himself."

Lena froze, caught off guard.

"That day, he started out like he had some big plan—some experiment, maybe. He shut me down, went full manual."

He paused, and went on, "Last time I saw him, I didn't even know where we were. He just looked at me and said he'd failed. Said he was done, that it was goodbye."

The pup's voice hitched, teetering on a sob. "I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. Forced me offline. Next thing I know, you're waking me up. My real body? No clue where he stashed it—I can't feel a thing."

If Lena had to pin a vibe on Snowball's sulky little act, it was textbook abandoned-puppy energy.

If his story checked out, Odin had nailed the persona for this thing.

"Okay, enough," she said, rubbing her temples. The day had drained her dry, and now she had a sniffling dog-mecha to deal with. "So what are you now?"

"You're my new master!" Snowball cut in, perking up. "You've gotta take care of me. Odin left me to you, so you'd better treat me right. I'm a Class-SSS mecha—the best in the galaxy. Mjölnir and Tyrfing don't even come close."

Lena's mind flicked to the snake-patterned ring.

It'd always felt out of place on the original Lena—not her style, not something she'd pick out. Probably a family heirloom.

If she traced the timeline back, yeah, it could tie to Odin, the Empire's founding marshal. The pieces fit, maybe.

She couldn't vouch for Snowball's story yet, but keeping a dog around? That she could handle.

"Fine," she said after a beat. "I'll look after you."

Snowball nearly leapt onto her lap, barely held back by what Lena could only assume was Class-SSS mecha pride.

"But," she added, nodding at the opticomputer, "it says your grade's S+. What's up with that?"

Snowball smirked, one side of its doggy mouth curling up. "That's just the minimum to pilot us—the PR version. Truth is, we're way beyond that. Like your mental power. From what I can tell, you're sitting pretty at SS."

That giant white mecha from her vision flashed in her head. Snowball's words were starting to hold water. He knew stuff—stuff she could pry out of him down the line.

"Not bad," she said, giving its head a pat. "So, what do you eat? Or do you run on something else?"

Her stomach growled. After all this, she needed food too.

"Steak!" Snowball yipped, ears drooping bashfully as she headed off. He wagged his tail, replaying that head-pat in its mind.

Maybe Odin had picked a decent new master after all.