Chapter 57 - WEEB Cheater

Let's have a brief flashback.

I can still vividly recall the night Miss Mirana Alicent shared her wisdom with me. She sat comfortably on her hospital bed, her long blonde-green hair shimmering in the soft, ethereal glow of moonlight streaming through the window.

Her presence was both serene and commanding, like a retired lady knight resting after a hard-fought battle. In her hands, she held an overpowered smartwatch—WEEB System, Clearance Level 141—a relic of her past, connected to her former partner.

“My ex-husband—er, my ex-partner—used to abuse the Weaponry Enhancement Engineering Bios,” she said, her voice calm but laced with a sharp edge. Then she smiled, a threatening curve of her lips that hinted at untold pain and vengeance. “For most support units, it’s called cheating. But, well, my ex-partner was a cheater anyway.”

As she spoke, I could almost feel the invisible weight of her crimson aura pressing down on me, a heat that didn’t burn but unnerved, though nothing visible betrayed its presence.

“Ahem,” Myrrh interrupted from beside me, her tone polite but firm. “Please stay on track, mother.”

“Right,” Miss Mirana said with a nod, as though snapping out of a trance. “As I was saying, it was a form of cheating—a way to exploit the WEEB System’s time lag and force it to activate perpetually and continuously.”

She picked up her phone and showed us a video. On the screen, her white-and-gold Frame Unit sprang to life, armed with a beam rifle. Moments later, the rifle seamlessly morphed into a sword, then into a shield, and finally into a massive buster sword. The transitions were flawless—fluid as water, the weapon seeming not to change but to grow and shift as if alive.

“There’s a time lag between equipment callouts and the manifestation of the cybernetic circles,” she explained, her tone shifting into that of a meticulous strategist. “If I remember correctly, it’s 0.175 seconds. If you’re fast enough, you can bypass the materialization entirely and jump straight into reshaping the currently equipped weapon.”

“So, in video game terms, it’s like animation canceling,” Myrrh muttered, her eyes lighting up with comprehension. I glanced at her, amazed as always by how easily she could connect real-world phenomena to gaming mechanics. I couldn’t even begin to think that way, and it was moments like this that made me admire her even more—not in a romantic way, of course.

“How about the weapon callouts?” I asked, leaning forward with curiosity. “WEEB is controlled by touch and voice command, right?”

“You don’t need to,” Mirana Alicent replied, shaking her head slightly, her expression calm but knowing. “I’m sure you’ve noticed it by now—when the cybernetic circuits glow on your hand as you equip a weapon to a Frame Unit, there’s a slight time lag before the glow fades. I think it’s about 0.2 seconds. During that brief window, between the sweet spot of 0.175 and 0.2 seconds, your circuits are still active, and no voice command is necessary. However, in that split second, you must press the next weapon on your HUD to make the swap seamless.”

Her explanation hit me like a revelation, and I couldn’t help but gape in awe. “Oooooh.” Beside me, Myrrh’s eyes widened, her surprise mirroring my own.

Miss Mirana Alicent smirked faintly, a mixture of satisfaction and amusement flickering in her eyes. Without ceremony, she held out the smartwatch—the WEEB System of her ex-husband—and placed it in my hands. The device was battered yet functional, its surface worn smooth from years of use.

“Here. Practice weapon swapping with this,” she said. “You won’t need Myrrh to transform into a Frame Unit to train with it. His WEEB System has some pointers that will guide you through the process.”

I held the smartwatch gingerly, as though it were a relic. “I-Isn’t this important to you?” I stammered, glancing at her. “I mean, it belonged to your husband—er, ex-husband—”

“Not in the slightest,” she interrupted with a disarming smile that somehow carried an undercurrent of menace. “I was supposed to toss that piece of junk in the trash ten years ago, but I always forgot. I thought about pawning it, but that would’ve been dirty money—filthy, just like my ex-husband.” She chuckled, her tone light but laced with venom. “At least now it’ll serve a purpose in your hands. Feel free to throw that crap away when you’re done practicing.”

“R-Right,” I muttered, forcing a smile that felt as shaky as my voice. “Thank you for this, Miss Alicent.”

I glanced over at Myrrh, seeking some silent reassurance. She met my gaze with a knowing smile—a gentle, almost pitying curve of her lips that seemed to say, Please bear with my mother. It was a look I’d seen before, one that balanced affection with exasperation.

"By the way, if I may ask..." I ventured carefully, sensing this might be a delicate subject. "Where is Mister Alicent?"

Miss Mirana's expression brightened, her lips curving into a sweet smile that somehow felt sharper than it appeared. "He died." The way she lingered on the word died gave it an edge, as if savoring the syllable.

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"T-That's horrible," I stammered, unsure how to respond. "How did he die? Was it because of the Cosmic Beasts?"

"Uh, no," she replied breezily, her tone almost nonchalant. "He had a heart attack. On the sidewalk."

"Oh," I muttered, blinking in surprise. "Was he sick?"

"Yes," Miss Mirana answered, her smile unwavering. "He was diagnosed with being a compulsive cheater. I'm pretty sure he collected every STD known to humanity. Quite the accomplishment, don't you think?"

"Mom," Myrrh interjected sharply, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

But Miss Mirana pressed on, her tone taking a dramatic turn. "After the heart attack, he tripped and broke his neck. Then he got rolled over by a car—no, a truck! A twelve-wheeler cement mixer truck! And after that, a Frame Unit's buster sword just happened to fall on his face!" Her eyes gleamed with unhinged glee as she continued. "Oh, and that buster sword? It was a bomb. Planted by none other than the Neo Terrestrial Reich terrorists! And it exploded! BOOM!"

She clapped her hands for emphasis, her voice rising in intensity. "Then a spaceship crashed into his mangled body! And THEN, if you can believe it, a Cosmic Beast fell right on top of the wreckage and boom! It was over for him! And then, he went straight to hell! That fucking cheater! Fucking cheater!"

By now, Miss Mirana was both laughing and crying, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. Tears streamed down her face even as she grinned, her emotions a chaotic swirl of bitterness and relief.

I stood frozen, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or run. Myrrh buried her face in her hands, her exasperation palpable as she muttered under her breath, "Please, just stop. You know my father is still out there somewhere, buying some milk or something..."

Now that I think about it, Myrrh and Miss Mirana Alicent share more than just their striking resemblance. Both possess the same stunning beauty—graceful features framed by captivating hair, and a figure that seems to command attention effortlessly. But beyond their outward allure lies a deeper, more poignant similarity: their unfortunate luck in love.

It’s almost uncanny. Both of them have a tendency to draw in people who seem like the wrong pieces for their puzzle, leaving them bitter and bruised by romance. In that sense, they’re not just beautiful—they’re tragic, carrying a quiet melancholy that hints at unspoken heartaches. Myrrh, though younger, shares her mother’s weary longing, as if hopeless romanticism runs in their veins.

<><><>

Back to the present.

The crowd erupted into wild cheers as the massive metal crab lay in pieces, sparks and smoke rising from its shattered frame. Among the wreckage, the opponent Frame Unit’s severed head rolled across the arena floor, a stark testament to the final, decisive blow. Myrrh’s Frame Unit stood tall amidst the chaos, its sleek, battle-worn silhouette gleaming under the arena’s lights.

“N-No... It can’t be...” The third-year support unit stammered, his voice trembling as he stared in disbelief at Myrrh’s Frame Unit. Recognition dawned in his wide eyes. “No wonder they look the same. She... she must be Mirana Alicent’s daughter!”

The referee’s whistle cut through the roaring crowd, and the elegant emcee, Dianca, raised her microphone with dramatic flair. Her voice rang out, clear and triumphant. “The winner of this match is Examinee Number 11!”

The audience erupted once more, their cheers echoing through the vast arena as Myrrh’s Frame Unit began its transformation. The levitating platform I stood on slowly descended, and Myrrh emerged from the metallic shell, returning to her humanoid form with practiced ease. She strode forward, her movements effortlessly graceful, her long lime-blonde hair cascading behind her like a shimmering waterfall as she flicked it with casual confidence, every step exuding the poise of a beauty queen.

Then her eyes—those radiant blue eyes—found mine. A blush dusted her cheeks as a sweet, bashful smile bloomed on her lips. Raising her hand with a playful air, she waited for a high five. “Good job!” she said, her voice bright and melodic.

“You too,” I replied, matching her smile as our hands met in a satisfying clap.

We turned and walked toward the backstage, leaving our dumbfounded opponents behind, still frozen amidst the ruins of their defeat. As we walked, Myrrh’s voice bubbled with excitement.

“I was so worried you’d equip the wrong weapon during that millisecond time lag!” she said, laughing lightly.

“And I was just as worried you’d use the weapon wrong because of my unpredictability,” I scoffed, though the corner of my mouth curled in amusement.

Myrrh giggled, the sound light and infectious, like a princess sharing a private joke. “Maybe it’s because we have such a high compatibility rate. Honestly, it feels like I know exactly how your brain works, and I think you know how mine does too. It’s like... we’re telepaths.”

Her laughter carried a warmth that made my heart stutter. My cheeks grew hot as I glanced away, trying—and failing—not to let her see the blush spreading across my face.

“I just followed your rhythm, you know,” I said, keeping my tone light. “That Plan A Combo Weapon of yours worked pretty well, but we should start thinking about other strategies—like a Plan B Combo or even Plan C.”

“Still, you’re amazing, Zaft.” Myrrh’s voice was soft yet full of admiration as she patted my shoulder. "I'm so glad that you did it the first time!"

“That’s rare for you to praise me,” I replied with a smirk, feeling a flicker of pride. Without thinking, I reached out and patted her head. Her lime-green hair was as soft as it looked, and she didn’t pull away. “You’re getting pretty good yourself.”

The playful moment hung between us, warm and unspoken, until a shift in the atmosphere caught our attention. We both looked up to see them—a silver-haired girl with striking golden eyes and her tall, slender partner whose cold demeanor radiated an unsettling air. Michelle and Aurelio. The third-year prodigies.

Myrrh and I immediately straightened, our casual expressions replaced with serious gazes as the pair approached. Michelle’s lips curled into a faint, almost disinterested smile.

“Congrats once again,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “See you in the finals.”

“Yeah, you too,” I replied, giving her a thumbs-up paired with a polite smile.

The duo walked past us, their footsteps echoing down the corridor with a cold, calculated rhythm. There was something unnervingly deliberate about the way they moved, as if every step was a measured strike toward their next target. It was the kind of presence that made you instinctively brace yourself.

Myrrh turned to glance at them one last time, her expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing my gaze, she looked at me.

For a brief moment, we locked eyes. No words passed between us, yet we understood each other perfectly. Without hesitation, we broke into a sprint, racing toward the lounge as if the weight of the world were on our heels.

There's no way we're going to miss the next fight.