When the electron beam lithography machine finished its final round of etching, the laboratory clock pointed to exactly twelve noon.
Artoria stood before the vacuum workstation, staring through the observation window at the silver-white Titanium alloy shell. This was the twelfth layer—the innermost layer—with geometric whispers she had left for the deep-sea luminous entity etched onto its surface. The electron beam ceased, and a robotic arm removed the finished product, placing it under an Atomic force microscope.
The screen magnified the image a million times, revealing the patterns perfectly—the self-similar fractal structure maintained mathematical precision even at the nanometer scale. There were no flaws.
"Finished," she whispered.
Tony stood at the other end of the workstation, his gaze moving between the microscope screen and Artoria. For three days, they had worked together to manufacture these twelve layers of precision shells, but he never once asked about the specific meaning of those patterns—this was the tacit understanding between engineers.
"Assemble it now?" Tony asked.
"I'll assemble it at my place," Artoria said as she placed the shell into a specialized protective case. "There's dedicated equipment there."
"Alright. Just say the word if you need help." Tony didn't insist. He understood technical sovereignty—this was her design, her core, her domain.
At two in the afternoon, Artoria returned to the small house with the protective case. In the basement, the complete Titanium alloy skeleton stood silently in the morning light, the cavity in its chest waiting for a heart.
She placed the protective case on the workbench and began the final assembly. The twelve layers of shells had to be superimposed with nanometer precision, and the patterns on each layer had to be perfectly aligned. She called up a High-precision assembly platform—Tony had sent someone to deliver it yesterday, calling it "idle equipment," but Artoria knew it had been specifically configured for her.
The work continued until evening. When the final layer of the shell clicked into place with a soft sound, the complete Energy Core appeared within the Vacuum fixture. A sphere ten centimeters in diameter, its surface shimmered with a strange iridescent luster; those nano-patterns flickered under specific lighting, resembling colored glass sealing away a galaxy.
The encapsulation process took three hours. A double-layered vacuum-sealed shell, high-purity electrodes, a micro-controller, and a safety module. The completed core slept quietly under the lights, awaiting its first activation.
At nine in the evening, she prepared for basic testing. The core was connected to the sensor array, and the test bench was ready. The moment she pressed the power button—
The core lit up.
It didn't brighten gradually; it was an instantaneous burst. The iridescent luster turned into a bright, pale blue radiance, a glow identical to that of the deep-sea luminous entity. Light began to flow through the patterns, forming a complete optical path along the designed energy channels, and then it began to pulsate. Stable and powerful, like a heartbeat.
Even more astonishing was the energy reading—jumping directly from zero to an output of fifty million joules per second, equivalent to a small power station. There was no ramp-up process, no preheating; it was like opening a valve to a higher-dimensional space.
Artoria stared at the test screen. Data was still refreshing: 100% energy conversion efficiency, zero thermal loss, no radiation—it completely defied known laws of physics. But this was the very intent of the design—this wasn't energy conversion; it was energy leakage.
Her wristband vibrated violently. It was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highest-level alert.
Her phone rang simultaneously from three numbers: Coulson, Tony, and an unknown encrypted line. She answered Tony first.
"What's the situation over there?" Tony's voice was uncharacteristically urgent. "The energy readings are off the charts! All the alarms at my rooftop monitoring station are going off! Do you need me to come over?"
"Not for now." Artoria stared at the glowing core. "The core is activated and is resonating with something."
"The thing in the deep sea?"
"Most likely."
"The energy is still rising... Artoria, this has already exceeded safety thresholds. S.H.I.E.L.D. people are definitely on their way, you need to—"
"I know." She hung up and answered Coulson.
"Miss Artoria, an extremely high energy reaction has been detected, and the threat level has been raised to Level 7. A Rapid Response Team is en route and is expected to arrive in three minutes. Please evacuate to a safe distance immediately and wait for us to handle it."
"Handle what?" Artoria's voice was calm.
"That energy source. Its readings have reached the level of a tactical weapon; it must be brought under control immediately."
"This is my laboratory, my equipment, and my research results," Artoria said, word by word. "Without my permission, no one is allowed to enter or touch anything."
"This is for public safety—"
"I said, no."
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the line before Coulson's tone changed: "Miss Artoria, this is not a request. According to the Extraordinary Events Emergency Management Regulations, S.H.I.E.L.D. has the right to take all necessary measures during a Level 7 threat. Please cooperate."
"Then come and try."
She hung up the phone and looked out the window. In the night, three black SUVs were speeding along the coastal highway. The sirens on their roofs flashed, cutting through the darkness with piercing red light.
She went to the door of the basement and locked it. Then she returned to the workbench and opened the system interface.
There was one remaining Shadow of the Past: honkai impact 3rd's Murata Himeko—the cooldown had ended and she was ready for use at any time.
But she wasn't in a hurry. She wanted to see S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attitude first.
Two minutes later, the sound of screeching brakes echoed outside. Footsteps, tactical commands, and the clatter of equipment followed. Melinda May's voice came through a loudspeaker:
"Miss Artoria, we are the S.H.I.E.L.D. Rapid Response Team. Please open the door immediately and cooperate with the inspection. Repeat, please open the door immediately."
Artoria walked to the first floor and looked out through the peephole. Six fully armed Agents had formed a tactical formation, with May at the front holding a breaching tool. Further away, Coulson was getting out of a car, his expression solemn.
She opened the door but did not step out.
"Where is the energy source?" May asked directly.
"In my laboratory." Artoria blocked the doorway. "No entry without permission."
"Miss Artoria," Coulson stepped forward quickly, "the readings from that energy source have reached a dangerous level. We must conduct a safety assessment; it's procedure."
"An assessment is fine, but do it here." Artoria stepped aside to reveal the view through the door, but she still blocked the path. "I can provide real-time data, but your people cannot enter my lab or touch my equipment."
May frowned. "That's against regulations. We need to perform on-site sampling and install suppression devices—"
"I said, no." Artoria's voice was soft, but every word was clear. "This is my home and my research. If you insist on entering, then be prepared to face the consequences."
The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. The Agents' hands moved toward their holsters. Coulson raised a hand to stop them, but his eyes were sharp.
"Miss Artoria, you are obstructing official business. I will say this one last time: please step aside, or we will take coercive measures."
Artoria smiled. It was a faint smile, but there was no warmth in her emerald-green eyes.
"Agent Coulson, do you remember what Himeko-sensei said when we first met?"
Coulson's expression changed slightly.
"She said, 'This kid is under my protection.'" Artoria slowly raised her right hand, palm upward. "I'm going to say it again now: my things, my people, and my research—they are all under my protection. Anyone who wants to touch them has to go through me first."
Fire ignited in her palm.
It wasn't a small flame, but an instantaneous burst of crimson fire. A heatwave radiated from her, forcing the Agents to retreat instinctively. The fire condensed and took shape in her palm, transforming into a miniature Judgement of Shamash—though it was only the size of a dagger, the pressure it emitted made everyone's breath hitch.
"You—" May's hand had already gripped her pistol.
"May, don't move." Coulson stared intently at the flame, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He had seen this power before; in a S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room, that Valkyrie calling herself Himeko had easily melted through a special alloy floor. And now, this blonde girl was recreating that terror.
"Now," Artoria said, gripping the flame dagger as her gaze swept over everyone, "we can renegotiate the terms."
A standoff.
Five seconds, ten seconds. In the night wind, there was only the crackling of the burning fire and the distant sound of waves.
Then, headlights rapidly approached from the other end of the highway. With a piercing screech of brakes, a silver-grey sports car drifted to a halt. Tony Stark pushed the door open and stepped out; he wasn't wearing his suit, but he was carrying a metal briefcase.
"Whoa, quite a crowd?" He walked into the middle of the group, naturally positioning himself between Artoria and the Agents, facing Coulson. "Phil, bringing this many people to scare my neighbor in the middle of the night?"
"Mr. Stark, this has nothing to do with you," May said sternly.
"How does it have nothing to do with me?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "This is my technical partner. Her lab uses my equipment, and her research has technical support provided by me. If you touch her things, you're touching Stark Industries' assets. Do I need to have my Legal Department send you a lawyer's letter?"
"Tony," Coulson rubbed his temples, "the danger level of that energy source—"
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