Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

The orangish Mars spread across the night sky, and the heat wave that hit her face made her hair flutter. In her clear eyes reflected the increasingly imminent red figure. Aimed at the burning wings, the rising new star, she lifted the palm of her hand, and the light in her eyes instantly shifted and contracted, cohering into a special symbol.

Afterward, the crazily advancing reddish steel engulfed by spreading white frost was covered until the fiery Fireball in its chest slowly extinguished, and the entire Mecha body, like a piece of frozen ice, lost its speed.

Although Hexia Tilan did not know the past that this Mecha represented, the surging emotions and the will to perish together that it embodied were not ignored but were genuinely felt. Precisely because she had the Talent of a Songstress, she understood how rare and precious such a fiery will was.

'Stop, you should not be trapped here to die.' Fighting was not for killing but for saving those who had fallen into the abyss and could not escape. Sometimes, a lucid restraint was more of a test than death-seeking slaughtering, as the latter only required following instincts, while the former also required pondering the truly right direction. Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire

At the headquarters of Black Hammer Heavy Industries, several elderly men stood atop a towering building, gazing far into the falling red meteor.

"They've finally taken out the hope they once couldn't part with, what a pity that the outcome is still the same..." They could no longer remember how many sighs and how much melancholy they had felt; these old men no longer had tears, only a sense of loss left in their hearts.

They were well aware that the result of such mutual battles was merely a lingering existence, but they were just the abandoned ones. The new era had not left a place for them. Leaving the Northern Second District, where else could they go? Beg like stray dogs for others' pity and shelter? Then forget everything about the past and just be an ordinary person?

What kind of option was that? What did the efforts of their ancestors over the hundreds of years turn into? What did their persistence over the years turn into? A joke?

The world may be open and unrestricted, but hearts are not. If it were easy to let go, they would have left with the others long ago, just like the remnants of the ruins in Lebyon, those ruins that used to house the people living there, who are all gone now.

Enough, persisting any further no longer mattered. The failure of Fireball also signaled their similar fate.

"Call several of the young executives in the group over here." The lead old man, sitting in front of the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, instructed the Guard beside him.

"Yes!" After speaking, he immediately turned and left, taking out his device to start making the connection.

Seeing this, several other old men understood his thoughts. "Are you finally willing to let go?"

"Yes, if we die here, so be it, but the young people can't. They still have their lives and futures. Let's not have them trapped in this ruins and historical debris with us anymore."

Under the frozen full moon, the battle in the city gradually ceased and quieted down.

The problem of war was temporarily solved, but a new concern suddenly emerged in Tilan's mind. She wondered if what she did today was a bit too much, meaning it was too out of line. After all, in this era, basically anything under the sky could be seen by satellites. If things went awry, somewhere in the Four-leaf Crystal Star Domain, a group of people might have been live streaming her actions.

What a nuisance. She looked up at the sky and then dispelled the huge full moon that obscured the night, descending down.

The cold night wind filled her sleeves, and then her face and hair were illuminated by the flames. Tilan landed gracefully in front of the fallen Mecha, spread her hands, and with a gentle stroke, a gash was made on the Mecha as sturdy as ever. The heavy armor slid down and smashed into the ground, forming a crater, and then revealed the cockpit inside.

Inside laid an old man with graying hair, half-asleep, half-awake. His skin was sagging, the lower half of his body connected to some life support device, only the upper half left intact. Various fiber tubes were inserted into his body, and from the instrument panel beside him came periodic electronic beeps.

After the armor slid off, he strained to open one eye halfway and tried to see the young girl in the firelight, who appeared to be 16-17 years old, as if in a dream.

"Is this... no, it doesn't matter anymore." He struggled to recognize the figure before him, feeling some kind of special quality from her, as if all his unwillingness and thoughts were understood by her. That tolerance, that resonance, as if all the wrinkles in his heart had been smoothed out.

"You are..." He looked at the young girl before him, with an unintended respect creeping into his tone.

"Your prayers and regrets, I've received them." The black-haired girl spoke to him in the light of the fire.

"Is that so, well then, if you are the third Great One..." Murmuring, a smile suddenly cracked across his lips, as if he had found release.

"Four hundred years, and we've finally waited for the birth of another color, what a beautiful world." After saying that, his voice slowly weakened and eventually stopped, the last trace of color fading from his face, his body turning ashen, while the alarm from the instruments alongside also beeped and then ceased.

Not long afterward, personnel from Fireball Energy arrived, and everyone gathered around the now-deceased elder and slowly came to a halt.

The Mecha was equipped with a communication device, and the last few words the old man spoke did not dissolve into the wind but were heard by the core personnel of Fireball Energy.