Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

'Gray Warbler' class mecha, the standard Sequence 5 mecha once mass-produced for military service and the main force in ground warfare, were far superior to the agile Turtledove-class mecha. Although most are now retired, a portion remains in service within the military.

The emerald green light saber was especially conspicuous in the curtain of rain, emitting wisps of steam. Then it swooped down again, fiercely cleaving through the turtledove-class mecha's defense, an orange light saber, washing the jade saber's particle stream across the exterior of the mecha, sparking a cascade of Mars and melting parts, severing an arm of the opposing mecha.

In the rain, two Turtledove-class mecha belonging to the North Third District fell back, clearing space, while the three swiftly arriving Gray Warbler-class mecha surrounded and swiftly dismembered the two resisting Turtledove mecha, until only their torsos remained, collapsing into the water.

Compared to the Turtledove-class mecha of the military police, these three Gray Warbler-class mecha were still active military members, superior both in terms of mecha equipment and pilot skills, far beyond the other two parties present.

Choosing not to use laser guns to pierce through the two mecha, but instead to dismember them in close combat, was meant to capture the pilots inside, which was the main objective of the three Gray Warbler-class mecha on this mission.

Under the pounding rain, the jade light saber slowly cut through the shell of the fallen Turtledove-class mecha's torso, revealing the cockpit inside. Then the light saber extinguished, and the mecha's arm grabbed the cockpit's shell, tearing it open. A man with short dark green hair leaped out in panic, attempting to flee, but was quickly contained by a blue containment barrier enclosing the area.

Soon, a hovering Autonomous Unit descended from the sky, extending a mechanical arm from beneath to seize the man's arm. Then layers of iron chains wrapped around him, binding him to the ground.

Elsewhere, the fallen mecha was also gradually dismantled, exposing its cockpit. As the emerald light saber cut through, the cockpit split open, and a dark figure quickly jumped out, dashing to the side.

On the blue light wall, a dot spread out but did not shatter. Undeterred, the man threw a punch, accompanied by a roar, his red fist violently striking the light wall, tearing a small hole. But before he could escape through it, a bright laser beam shot from behind, piercing his chest, leaving a gaping hole.

One Gray Warbler-class mecha emerged slowly from the rain, picked up the man who had fallen, and placed him into an opened life support pod nearby, closing it; once again, the rain-shrouded scene fell silent, now only the scattered shattered parts on the ground told of the fierce battle that had just taken place.

To the underworld gangs and the rebellion, this dark-haired man could be considered a rare elite, but to the real force maintaining the federation, such a figure was nothing more than an insect that could be crushed at any time.

In the distant lakebed base, a grey-haired old man sat quietly in front of the command console, listening to the report coming from the other side.

"Xu Da captured, Qiao Long's fate unknown," he seemed to be repeating, yet it came out as a sigh.

"Yes, Commander, I am terribly sorry, the operation was a complete failure. Not only did we fail to secure the crucial item, but we also lost the only two mecha and their pilots," came the response.

"It's fine, let it be," he said, and then cut off the communication, turning his gaze toward the vast map on the wall not far away.

This map of the northern districts detailed the intelligence and ongoing situations in each area, with some parts marked in red, signifying extreme danger and importance.

"Jade Skirt..." he murmured with a mix of nostalgia and loss in his gaze.

"It was all in vain, just a futile effort," he mused.

Suddenly seeming to age in an instant, he propped himself up with a tremble. His gaze swept over the still bustling members, feeling an immense weight in his heart.

As a military man, his achievements in the first half of his life were notable and fairly complete, but as the founder of a rebellion, he was far from successful. Now, his organization was precarious, on the brink of collapse.

One failure after another and the blows they sustained caused many within to lose hope and confidence. If the situation worsened further, collapse and defection were only a matter of time.

For a retired military officer to gather an organization to confront those behemoths was too fanciful and idealistic. That he had come this far was perhaps a stroke of luck to the utmost limit. The north's decline had left the central government with little funding for its institutions, which meant that in their early activities, they encountered little resistance. Even if some police caught on, they could easily walk away as local gang members did, by paying off some money.

However, with this year's Star Domain government's emphasis on environmental issues and the proposal of the Northern Restoration Plan, the formerly lenient environment was no more. This time, even Military mechs were involved in the crackdown, completely exceeding their ability to cope.

It was time to think of other methods and avenues, or else they would have no choice but to make an exit. The elderly man sat down again, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes to ponder. He didn't have many cards in hand, and as he grew older, some of the informants and intelligence resources from the past were gradually losing contact.

Three days later, a flyer escorting two rebellious pilots arrived in South First District, and afterwards, they were handed over to the Star Domain Court of Judgment for interrogation and detention.

"Go in," said a member of the Court of Judgment, clad in a blue uniform, directing the two into the enclosed cell.

With Magic Suppression Collars, shackles, and chains adorning their bodies, they stepped into the cell with the clinking sound of the iron chains, and then were locked up separately.

"Commander, the two deserters have been captured, and their information has been relayed," a member of the Court of Judgment in a deep blue uniform reported.

"Understood, you may leave now," a mature beauty with chestnut curls said from in front of her desk. She wore the uniform of a High Rank investigator, and had a sword hanging at her side.

"Yes,"

As she watched the data swiftly move across the screen, her expression remained calm. However, when she scrolled to a certain section, she paused.

"So you're that missing key figure,"

Her gaze lingered on a segment [...in April of 1251, this man attacked the not yet fully awakened Songstress Hexia Tilan. He was later admitted to the hospital for treatment and then got involved in the cleanup of the Payin City Underworld turmoil, after which he disappeared.]

"I remember that was precisely the time when Little Tilan underwent changes, a moment yet unnoticed by our Court of Judgment,"

"At that time, Tilan was only at Sequence 2, while this man already held Sequence 4, and he had been involved in gang fights numerous times before, his combat strength not weak,"

"It's hard to imagine how Tilan survived that assault, and what happened in between that we're unaware of,"

"Should I interrogate him, to make him explain the situation that night, or should I leave it for now and inquire with Little Tilan instead?" The woman hesitated briefly.

If it were an ordinary Songstress, she would naturally opt to interrogate, to gather all fragments of the truth, but the girl Tilan was rather special. Despite external descriptions of her as a prospective Moon Level Songstress, the Court of Judgment had internally determined long ago that this child would eventually become a Sun Level Songstress, and possibly for a long time, the only Sunlit Level Songstress in the Federation.

The immense significance this represented couldn't be explained in a few sentences. If in the future Hexia Tilan was the only Sunlit Level Songstress, even if she wasn't at the Color Level, she wouldn't be far off from those Legendary Songstresses of the past.

The entire Federation's environment would change on account of her, and matters concerning her required extra care. Even Aimeranda faintly felt that the top echelon of the Court of Judgment held a certain awe for this not yet fully grown young girl.

The closer to the truth, the more one understood the hidden abyss and dangers within. Even an institution like the Court of Judgment, which stood above worldly affairs, didn't want to lightly offend such a figure, especially since this wasn't a matter of principle but some possibly negligible details.

Forget it, I'll ask my superiors.

Aimeranda massaged her forehead, stood up, and approached the special communicator that linked to the Central Star Domain.

Shortly after, a cobalt blue tear symbol lighted up and began to slowly rotate.