Solve the Enigma, Young Man!

"That suit of armor… it's unlike anything we've ever seen before."

A small-statured girl in the cavea broke the silence, her voice carrying a quiet intensity. She was wrapped in a long, ashy-gray coat lined with a thick white fur collar, its weight draping over her petite frame like a mantle of authority. Beneath it, a blacksmith's tanktop and pocket-filled shorts clashed against the unmistakable mechanical precision of her legs—slim and bladed at the knees, resembling a work of engineering far beyond standard prosthetics.

Her wild, pointed eyes gleamed with curiosity, but there was kindness in her gaze as she observed the pink-haired boy below. With each idle twitch of her fingers, invisible strings danced, moving as though her very existence was connected to something unseen.

"Not even our greatest blacksmith, Elspeth Acacia Extrun, can identify something like that?"

A second voice—lazily amused yet rich with knowing—chimed in. The speaker was a tall, languid woman, draped in a tattered white coat resembling Emberlight University's winter series, its edges worn but still dignified. Bandages wrapped around her arms, but beneath the gauze, soft, golden embers pulsed gently beneath her skin, bleeding light like a slow-burning flame.

"Neptune's tech must be that advanced, then," she continued, stretching lazily before reclining back into her seat with an audible grunt of satisfaction. "No wonder she's the Goddess of Technology."

Long, messy pink hair cascaded down the back of her chair, unruly yet effortlessly elegant, much like the woman herself. With a wide yawn, she finally turned away from the battlefield, seemingly unfazed by the spectacle. Instead, she crossed her legs in an effortless, practiced motion, settling in once more as if she already knew how the fight would play out.

After all, it was her little nephew down there.

"I saw some of the blueprints Kirie showed me, but—dammit all."

Elspeth gritted her teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. It wasn't quite jealousy. No, it was something closer to competitiveness, a challenge to her craft. She had forged armor for the Exaltia Kingdom's soldiers and elites, her work trusted in the hands of warriors who demanded nothing but the best. She had trained under dwarven masters, learning the secrets of metallurgy that most could only dream of.

And yet, when she saw Kirie's blueprints, they defied everything she knew.

The metals: she could identify them, but the metallurgy process itself was foreign. The infusion of magic into the alloy was something else entirely, different from the reinforced metals she used to construct enchanted armor. Even the tools that had shaped this nanotech belonged to an era long past.

A bygone age.

"It's just a gap in the era, Miss Leora. We're basically from a different historical trajectory compared to how advanced this is."

The muted-emerald-haired woman beside her shrugged, the movement causing her self-made metal prosthetics to click and clank softly against her shoulder sockets. There was no frustration in her tone, only a pragmatic acceptance of reality.

Leora smirked, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back, watching the swirling smoke where Kirie and Enigma clashed.

"Or," she mused, glancing at Elspeth with a knowing glint in her eyes, "it could be that he's bringing us there."

Elspeth paused, her gaze lingering on the battlefield. The cloud of dust and energy still swirled violently, shrouding whatever technological miracle—or monster—was unfolding within.

From the billowing smoke, Enigma emerged—retreating, but never relenting.

Its glowing rifle snapped into position, muzzle flashing as it unleashed a storm of mana-infused bullets. Each shot cracked through the air with a concussive force that warped the atmosphere around it, bending light and sound alike. The projectiles didn't just fly—they ricocheted off walls, curving midair, adjusting course to always track their target. No shells. No need to reload. The rifle wasn't bound by conventional rules—it was a phantom's construct, forged entirely from pure magic, a limitless storm of suppressive fire.

And Kirie had no choice but to catch them all.

His hands and feet became his shields, intercepting volleys before they could risk striking anyone else. The force of each impact threw him into uncontrolled spins, his body twisting midair under the barrage. But his suit was learning.

[ Adapting flight stability... integrating auto-balancing matrixes... course correction engaged. ]

Each hit fed the armor, allowing it to refine its aerial adjustments, using foreign energy as fuel. Every mistake turned into data. Every setback, a resource.

"This guy just doesn't care!" Kirie muttered through gritted teeth, tracking the black and blue blur that tore across the walls. Enigma's back glowed with ominous glyphs, symbols flickering with arcane intent. More volleys erupted from its rifle, forcing Kirie into evasive maneuvers.

'Analyze those glyphs for me?'

[ Scanning... Replication glyphs detected. Purpose: temporary duplication of projectiles to sustain suppressive fire. Tactical intent: overwhelm and pin down target. ]

Kirie narrowed his eyes. "Then let's make our own version of it."

[ Of course. No matter how a plate is shaped, it is still a plate. ]

From his shoulders, two compact devices formed, their surfaces perforated with multiple vent-like openings. The nanotech siphoned excess stored energy, shaping it into a mirror adaptation of Enigma's tactic—but better.

Behind the phantom, a massive cluster of glowing dots materialized, each one a miniature sun of contained cosmic power.

[ Battle Move Saved: Executing Volleystorm. ]

With that, a storm of radiant orbs erupted, cutting through the air like phantom-seeking missiles. Each one honed in on Enigma, weaving and curving to box it in from all directions, pelting the battlefield with streaks of luminous devastation.

Enigma reacted instantly, sprinting along the walls with newfound speed—faster, sharper, more elusive. Yet even as it moved, its form began to shift, an unnatural fluidity overtaking its limbs.

It was evolving.

Kirie could see it in real-time—the phantom had abandoned this form. What was once a sniper, a suppressive combatant, was now obsolete. The moment Kirie had matched its strategy, Enigma discarded it like shedding old skin.

Then it stopped.

A deliberate halt. A pause so unnatural it sent a shiver down Kirie's spine.

The incoming storm of energy orbs closed in—only to be devoured.

A swirling maw of mist and shadow opened before the phantom, sucking in every trace of Kirie's attack. The very magic that was meant to destroy it was now fuel for something else.

Then came the sandstorm.

A violent whirlwind of dust and debris erupted across the arena, turning the battlefield into a choking storm of blindness and chaos. It was no ordinary environmental hazard—it was Enigma's adaptation, a grand-scale shift in combat.

Kirie's vision was immediately swallowed.

A wall of orange and black consumed everything. Particles bit at his skin, invaded his lungs, seared his eyes. He barely had time to react before the storm filled every sense, disorienting him entirely.

[ Adaptation process against dusty terrain initiated. ]

'I can't see, I can't hear, it hurts!' His eyes burned. A raw, stinging sensation like ground glass scraping against them. Was the sand dirty? Infected? What if he got sick from this? What if—

The world around him was gone. No sight. No sound. No direction.

The suit was adapting. Trying to adjust. But he was still in the process. Just like Enigma.

Kirie's chest tightened. A creeping pressure climbed up his ribs, squeezing his lungs. He struggled to breathe. Helpless. Blind. Deaf.

For the first time since the fight began—pure, unfiltered terror clawed at his mind.

Then—he felt it.

A shift, subtle at first, like the stillness before a storm.

Enigma had embodied speed. Then precision. And now—something entirely different.

Something palpable.

It gripped his lungs like an iron vise, just as the sand had moments before. But this was no external force—it was pressure, presence, will. A raw, oppressive force that locked his muscles, rooted him to the spot, and sent an involuntary shudder down his spine.

It wasn't magic. It wasn't trickery.

It was fighting spirit.

A single image flashed in his mind—a warrior. No weapons, no tools, only their body honed into a weapon. He knew that image well.

His Aunt Leora was one of them—a fighter so fluid she could shift styles in the blink of an eye, adapting as naturally as breathing.

His master in maximalist combat, Ada Artemas, was another. A specter of death, the deadliest assassin in Exaltia's underground network. She wielded everything at her disposal, from her own heartbeat to the dust in the air—a true apex predator.

And now, Enigma stood among them.

The phantom's transformation swept away the lingering storm, parting the dust in a single, forceful gale.

Gone was the imitation of Kirie's armor. Gone was the sniper's flowing cape. The mist had condensed, compressed—hardened into something tangible.

Before him stood a hulking form, a fighter forged from memory and war. It held a low stance, one open palm extended forward, the other drawn tight against its solar plexus.

Seven glowing stars etched into its body.

Two across its backhands.

Two on its feet.

One burning at its sternum.

And the last two—its eyes.

It all looked at Kirie in patience. The two other forms had struck the male first to get the advantage, but this time, it waited.

"Third."

The word struck like a war drum, vibrating with the weight of a thousand battlefield commanders, each syllable forged in the fire of sacrifice.

"To win, you must give everything to the fight."

Kirie clenched his jaw. There was no room for hesitation.

[ Integrate combat data from Miss Leora and Ada Artemas to optimize armor for close-quarters engagement? ]

'No choice but to do so.'

It wasn't the perfect solution. But this wasn't about perfection—it was about survival. Enigma had forced him into its arena. Backing down was never an option.

The suit shifted. Not dramatically, but with purpose.

His lightweight plating remained, but reinforcements formed where it mattered most.

—Gauntlets and boots, forged to reinforce every strike and movement.

—A silvery warbelt, fastened with intricate engraving, its centerpiece a flowing cloth evocative of a qipao, rippling like a battle banner.

—His circlet warped, extending into a protective collar, a hidden defense for his neck.

—Maneuverable shoulder plates completed the look, shifting dynamically as if anticipating his next move.

Though it seemed as if his head remained exposed, a thin, hyper-condensed veil of mana shimmered, unseen yet absolute—a barrier, a last defense against a decisive blow. A warrior's garb, ornate in form, but designed for war. 

Fist over knuckle, Kirie drew back his arm. Power surged beneath his skin, rippling through muscle and metal alike. Cosmic energy crackled at his fingertips, siphoned from Enigma itself—raw, volatile, yet now undeniably his.

[ Efficiency with Power Absorption and Consumption of Cosmic Energy has increased by 25%. ]

[ Let loose, Young Master. ]

His breath sharpened. His gaze, steady.

And then—he launched.

Like a railgun round through the heavens, Kirie tore through the Astrum Valoria, leaving a luminous trail of lilac and light-blue sparks in his wake. Wind bent to his speed. Sound shattered beneath his velocity.

The impact was catastrophic.

A detonation of force erased all other battles from focus, the sheer shockwave enough to deafen anyone within ten meters. Even the Four Stars, titans in their own right, had to momentarily acknowledge the collision.

Kirie's fist—the culmination of technique, precision, and intent—drove forward with the sole purpose of shattering the most obvious star among Enigma's seven. His form, trained into him by both battle and instinct, delivered a punch that could split stone. Not through brute force alone, but through something far deadlier—efficiency.

Enigma was no mere boulder.

But neither were the boulders Kirie had shattered in training simply 'rock.' They were tests, challenges, representations of limits he had long since surpassed.

Even if Enigma blocked, the secondary impact—a hyper-condensed, pinpoint beam discharged from his gauntlets—would pierce through.

Not even adaptation could outpace inevitability.

Yet—there was no impact.

The dust settled, revealing the truth before Kirie could process the failure. His fist had not met flesh, nor even mist. Instead, a single, effortless motion unraveled his strike.

Enigma's forearm swept upward, cradling Kirie's wrist like a master redirecting a reckless student. The force behind the attack—the very power he had gathered, shaped, and unleashed—was turned outward, harmlessly dispersing into the air.

A perfect nullification.

Kirie's stomach twisted. He had expected resistance. Even a block. But this? This was something else entirely.

Enigma's gaze flickered, a glint of amusement hidden in its flickering eyes. It had seen through him. Recognized the pattern. Predicted it. And now—it punished him for it.

With surgical precision, Enigma countered.

A straight punch, perfectly mirroring Kirie's own. The difference? This one was faster. Closer. Unavoidable.

His right arm—displaced by Enigma's deflection—blocked his own vision. His body was left open.

He had no time. No space. No chance to dodge.

And Enigma did not hesitate. Its attack connects.

[ Attack head-on, Young Master. ]

[ Suit Integrity: Permanently damaged by 30%. ]

[ Commencing repair—redirecting excess cosmic energy to fuel nanotech microreactors for near-instant recovery. ]

[ Physical Integrity: Shattered ribs. Punctured lung. Vision impaired. On-field regeneration initiated. ]

Then—impact.

A brutal, earth-shaking shockwave tore through Kirie's core, its force rippling through muscle and bone like a hammer striking glass. Air fled his lungs. Blood sprayed from his lips. His body screamed at him to collapse, to give in, to shut down.

But—he didn't fly. He didn't break.

His armor had reacted on instinct, a liquid silver tide bending inward, forming a concave barrier across his sternum. A makeshift impact dampener. It absorbed what it could, leeching cosmic energy from Enigma's strike, swallowing force that should have shattered him into dust.

His vision blurred. His heartbeat thundered. But his legs held. His mind burned. His body refused to fall.

And so, he moved.

In the same instant that Enigma struck, Kirie twisted his deflected arm—grasping the phantom's wrist in a vice-like grip. The sudden shift in momentum yanked Enigma forward. Like revving a chainsaw, Kirie pulled—spinning the phantom like a violent, spiraling turbine.

Faster. Faster. Until—

He caught its hands. Trapped them. Crushed them.

A deafening crack split the air as Kirie's enhanced grip strength surged through his war-adapted armor, shattering the phantom's palms. The stars embedded within them burst apart in a spray of luminous fragments.

Enigma screamed.

A raw, guttural howl of pain. A sound of genuine loss.

It ripped itself away, stumbling backward, desperately retreating—but the damage was done.