The tranquil days stretched long like an arrow's flight. The bizarre battle from the past was gradually fading into oblivion. Those who had once fought side by side, crossing dimensions together, were now retreating into the normal pace of life—tedious and monotonous.

Humans are creatures that adapt to environments with ease. Regardless of what has happened, what lies ahead, or what we face in the present, none of it seems to disrupt the steady march forward.

When a virus spreads, humanity develops vaccines and experiments with various special elixirs. When the bizarre emerges, the immediate response is armed confrontation. Yet, when humans realize they cannot combat this phantom menace, they often exhaust the resources of entire nations to distance themselves from the harm it brings.

The march of eras has never ceased. This is the inevitable path of all civilizations. Perhaps, in certain moments of negligence, we ignore key issues and slow progress. But one day, we awaken, realizing the significance of humility, the importance of technology, and the preciousness of our homeland.

With technology, humanity can better safeguard its homes—Earth, Alpha, Mardis. Whether in the Solar System or across the vast galaxies, the stars that shimmer in the skies are breeding grounds for generations of life—destinations we must protect.

Initially, humanity failed to perceive the incoming catastrophe. The silent spread of the virus had already sown panic and restlessness, sending us rushing about like headless flies in disarray. Even when the bizarre manifested, we remained oblivious.

But on the day when nations simultaneously announced Plan A, when people learned that they would soon leave their homeland behind—departing from the bizarre and descending into an eternal, sunless underground life—a collective silence overtook the bewildered masses. Calmness returned. A shred of reason reemerged. Humanity fell into deep contemplation.

Planetary bodies lacking stellar illumination cannot receive adequate energy. As time stretches on, surface temperatures will plummet indefinitely. Heat will need to be generated by the planetary core and extracted artificially. By then, the surface's conditions will no longer accommodate over 99% of living organisms.

It wasn't until this point, after having grown accustomed to humanity's "true fragrance principle," that we fully awakened—grasping the importance of our homeland, the significance of technology, and understanding our profoundly insignificant place within the vast universe.

This outcome, predicted long ago by Blade Warrior, was no different from what she foresaw—the creation of tanks and mechas driven solely by the pursuit of profit. From the moment tanks failed to adapt to modern battlefields—or perhaps even earlier—humanity had already conceived the idea of mechas.

Mechas, with their massive frameworks and dramatic weight, nearly surpassed tanks in their scale. This extended period of history, void of advancement, could only be described as science fiction fantasy. Though mechas demonstrated superior environmental adaptability compared to tanks, they remained impractical given the industrial capabilities of that era.

However, with the advent of ultralight metals, people began inching closer to realizing those earlier dreams. Mechas evolved from scout models standing at 2.2 meters, to medium-sized mechas averaging 3 meters, and eventually 5-meter-tall heavy mechas. Centuries of technological inheritance continued unbroken to this day.

With advancements in armor enhancements and each successive iteration, mechas eventually evolved into today's mobile warriors. For instance, the Yate Federation's earliest Phantom Knight 0001, whose enormous structure and integrated defense coefficients effectively resisted armor-piercing shells. It was also the first mainstream model capable of space warfare.

Phantom Knight 0001 had tonnage on par with heavy tanks but boasted much lighter armor coefficients and superior defense capabilities. With auxiliary propulsion systems, it could achieve combat in outer space, qualifying as an all-weather model adaptable to various environments.

Subsequent development led to main battle models such as the Rally series, including the second-generation Courage, the third-generation Beast, and extending all the way to the ninth generation.

To enhance combat effectiveness, bolster defenses, and improve fire control, nations sought ways to increase the height and bulk of mechas, transforming them into bloated elite mechas. Eventually, armies saw the emergence of Red Cloak elites, super soldiers, and an array of ironic terminologies.

Fortunately, Feng Yi never burdened herself with ludicrous titles like Red Cloak or White Cloak. This was something Blade Warrior found reassuring. Feng Yi remained a pure warrior.

The continual upgrade cycles of mechas across nations, however, always revolved around a singular concept—war.

But in the absence of war, at the precise moment we prepare to leave our homeland and activate the migration phase of Plan A, the fate of mechas will gradually fall into irrelevance, becoming mere dust written into the annals of history.

This outcome was one Blade Warrior foresaw long ago. She had told Feng Yi that mechas would inevitably be phased out—perhaps in three years, five years, fifty years, or longer—it was only a matter of time.

After all, Blade Warrior's physiology diverged from ordinary humans. She had traversed numerous eras, witnessed the cyclical interchange between war and peace, and experienced the flourishing prominence of the tank's epoch.

Back then, humanity had not yet ventured into space. Humanity's material needs paled in comparison to today, yet Earth's resources had already been severely depleted, heading toward an irreversible imbalance of supply versus demand.

No one can stop this. Ordinary people remain blissfully unaware of how the cessation of water, electricity, natural gas, and countless other daily necessities triggers chain reactions that heavily impact society.

The disruption of critical resources we rely on daily might lead to widespread panic within a week. If extended to a month, crime rates would skyrocket, varying across cities with outbreaks at unpredictable time points.

Healthcare, transportation, legal systems, and countless other infrastructures would descend into collapse. To maintain such colossal societal frameworks, humanity can only adhere to its "true fragrance principle," preaching the conservation of resources while actively engaging in hypocritical deeds.

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