Chapter 309: The Petition
Three days later.
The living sector of Sora's apartment was saturated with the cloying, heavy
fragrance of high-tier sustenance.
A twelve-tier strawberry cream tower, decorated with fresh berries and edible
gold leaf, dominated the table. Beside it sat a chocolate lava-cake, its core
ready to erupt with rich, molten cocoa. There was cheesecake, strawberry mochi,
cream puffs, macarons, and tiramisu. The Federation had even included exotic
desserts Bochi had yet to archive: French Mille-feuille, Italian Gelato,
Japanese Dorayaki, and German Black Forest.
Bochi was sprawled across the coffee table, clutching a slice of the strawberry
tower with two small tentacles. The soulfire in its black eyes shimmered with a
manic, sugary joy.
"FLAVORFUL! STATISTICALLY SUPERIOR!"
Bochi emitted a series of satisfied gurgles between mouthfuls.
"The humans of this coordinate are remarkably well-disciplined!"
Kenji stood by the sofa, a practiced, polite smile fixed on his face. Behind
him, three Night Watchmen stood like statues, each holding a detailed digital
manifest. These were the apex products of their world, gathered from every
corner of the globe using the Federation's total logistics capacity. Every
individual unit had undergone rigorous biological and chemical audits for
quality.
"Lord Bochi, these items are merely a token of our sincerity," Kenji said
respectfully.
"If your soul craves a specific flavor profile, notify us immediately. The
Federation will allocate any resource required to manifest your desire within
the minimum timeframe."
Bochi looked up, using a tentacle to wipe a smear of cream from its mouth. "You
are excellent units!"
The slime's tone was genuinely warm. "Do not fear! I shall personally present
your status report to the Master! I will advocate for your species with maximum
intensity!"
"The Master and I share a deep resonance! He always processes my verbal requests
with a high success rate!"
Kenji's smile widened by a fraction of a millimeter. "We are in your debt, Lord
Bochi."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather-bound, hardcopy report. He
presented it with two hands. The cover was a deep navy blue, featuring the
Federation crest in shimmering gold-leaf.
[PETITION FROM THE HUMAN FEDERATION TO THE EVERNIGHT EMPIRE]
"This is the formal document we have prepared," Kenji said, his tone turning
solemn.
"It contains a detailed audit of our world's current decay, our formal request
for vassalage to the Evernight Empire, and a comprehensive manifest of the
resources we can provide and the price we are willing to pay for protection."
Bochi set down the cake and took the report with a tentacle. It was a dense
volume, at least three hundred pages long. Bochi flipped to the first page,
scanning the introductory paragraph written in the most formal, archaic
diplomatic script:
To the Magnanimous Sovereign of Evernight, Dominator of All Races...
Bochi's head began to throb. Why are human logs so wordy?
"Fine, fine. I shall carry the data back," Bochi said, unceremoniously absorbing
the report into its body.
"Maintain your logic! I shall advocate for your cause! The Master treasures me;
he rarely declines my suggestions!"
Kenji's gaze flickered. He had zero data on whether the slime was telling the
truth or simply experiencing a delusion of grandeur. But he had no other
tactical options. He had to trust the blue blob.
"We place the destiny of the human species in your hands, Lord Bochi."
Kenji performed a deep, final bow.
Bochi puffed out its chest. "Consider the mission secured!"
With that, the slime seized another block of chocolate cake and resumed its
consumption cycle. Kenji straightened up, watching the creature eat. He felt a
wave of existential vertigo. The survival of human civilization was anchored to
a slime eating cake in a messy living room.
The Multiverse is insane, he thought.
Sora sat on the sofa, watching the exchange with a cold, hollow feeling in her
chest.
Three days ago, when Kenji first departed, she had projected her life would
return to its previous parameters. She was incorrect.
Effective the next morning, her existence had been completely restructured.
A specialized transport unit carried her everywhere. Elite protectors followed
her into the Academy. Even the convenience store she frequented had been
"Secretly Nationalized," its staff replaced by high-tier Night Watchmen in
civilian disguises.
But the most jarring variable was Chief Lyra Frost.
The Federation's apex combatant was currently leaning against the doorframe of
Sora's apartment, serving as her primary sentinel.
"Sora," Lyra called out.
Sora turned. The Chief looked like an ordinary civilian in her casual clothes,
but Sora's sensory nodes picked up the crushing, quiet pressure radiating from
her frame. It was the aura of someone who had walked through the fire a thousand
times.
"Chief Frost. Is there a priority update?" Sora's voice was tight.
Lyra gave a slow shake of her head. "Negative. Merely a status reminder."
"Once Lord Bochi initiates transit, I shall maintain a twenty-four-hour
proximity to your person. I will be your constant, save for hygiene protocols."
Sora's face flushed. "Is that... not statistically excessive?"
Lyra's expression remained flat. "Statistically mandatory."
"Your value-rating currently exceeds any individual in the Council. If your
system terminates, our species faces total liquidation."
Sora went silent. She knew the logic. Ever since Bochi stated, "Sora is my
friend... if she dies, this Plane loses its reason for existence," she had
transitioned from a trainee Watchman to the world's most critical asset. She was
the anchor for the planet's survival.
"I understand," Sora whispered. "I shall cooperate with your surveillance,
Chief."
Lyra nodded once and returned to her statuesque vigil at the door.
In the living room, Bochi finished its fifth cake. It let out a loud, happy belp
and patted its distended stomach.
"Sufficient. I shall initiate return-transit now."
Bochi hopped from the table, landing in front of Sora. "Sora, I am departing for
my primary coordinate. Once I finalize the dialogue with the Master, I shall
return for you! We shall resume the Museum Expedition then!"
Sora knelt, reaching out to stroke the slime's head one last time. "Understood.
I will be here. Travel safely, Bochi."
Bochi used a tentacle to wrap around Sora's finger in a small, rubbery squeeze.
"Do not worry! My power-level is immense!"
Bochi turned to Kenji. "The sustenance has been archived. Await the Sovereign's
response."
Kenji bowed again. "Safe transit, Lord Bochi."
Bochi hopped to the center of the room. It closed its eyes, and its blue body
began to radiate a soft, pulsating light—the energy-build for spatial transit.
The six Shadow Guards manifested from its silhouette, forming a protective ring
around the slime.
The light reached peak intensity.
In the next heartbeat, Bochi and its phantoms vanished.
The living room was suddenly empty, save for a graveyard of cake boxes and the
lingering, sweet scent of frosting.
Kenji stood staring at the empty air. He balled his fists until they shook.
"The die is cast," he whispered.
"Now, we wait. We wait for the Master's logic. We wait for the fate of our
world."
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