Akiko slipped back into the station's main corridors, leaving the illusion of gravity behind. The shift to microgravity barely registered. Her body adjusted automatically now, each movement smooth and deliberate.

The Yard's day cycle was winding down. Crowds had thinned, leaving long shadows and soft ambient light. Perfect conditions.

She kept close to the walls, drifting silently past shuttered market stalls and idle terminals. The station's usual thrum had faded into something softer. Just the occasional hiss of recycled air and the faint groan of metal settling.

As she neared Fabrication Bay 17, her posture shifted. Lower, quieter. Shadows wrapped around her like second skin. One advantage of microgravity: no footsteps to give her away. Just careful hands and perfectly timed pushes.

She smirked, memory flickering.

Her first attempt at free-floating hadn't ended so gracefully. Too much momentum, too little control. She'd slammed into a bulkhead on the Sovereign so hard she'd seen stars.

"Painful," she muttered, "but effective."

Now, her movements were clean. Almost graceful.

She reached the hatch. An unmarked panel glowed faintly beside it. No sound but the distant whir of machines.

Akiko pressed her hand to the panel.

"Access granted."

The door hissed open. She drifted into the dim bay, every sense alert.

Her HUD pulsed softly, wayfinding arrows guiding her deeper into the maze of fabrication modules and quiet consoles. The hum of automation filled the silence like breath through steel lungs.

Then, movement. A worker hovered mid-corridor, pale glow from their datapad illuminating their face.

Akiko froze.

She pressed herself into the shadows, tail twitching in annoyance.

"Distraction?" she whispered.

Takuto responded instantly. A soft clunk echoed from a side hall. A system stirred. Too intentional to be random. The worker paused, looked up, then drifted toward the sound, curiosity outweighing caution.

Akiko exhaled slowly and pushed off the wall.

"Good work," she murmured.

The path cleared.

Her HUD blinked. Target ahead.

She reached the locker: a sleek, dark unit with a glowing access strip. Her finger brushed the panel. A click. The door slid open with a whisper.

Inside, cushioned in a padded cradle, lay the result of her quiet heist.

Akiko's breath caught.

She reached inside and lifted the device. Multiple panels shaped like curved segments of obsidian, etched with faintly luminescent lines. Familiar in style. A mirrored sibling to the neural interface already nestled at her spine.

She turned one over, feeling its impossible lightness.

"Instructions available," Takuto offered.

Her HUD bloomed with a diagram, each piece snapping into place like an extension of her own suit. They'd form a seamless ring around the base of her neck, expanding her mana interface and stabilizing spell control.

But her eyes drifted to the centerpiece.

A larger segment, crowned with a pale sapphire. The gem shimmered faintly, casting glints of foxfire blue through the dim light. She turned it in her palm.

It pulsed. Not in response to her touch, but her presence. A subtle thrum, just beneath the surface. As if her mana recognized it. Or maybe the other way around.

Her tail flicked, smile curling at the edge of her mouth.

Elegant. Functional. Hers.

"This," she whispered, eyes gleaming, "might actually work."

She glanced once more at the schematic. It wouldn't take long to install. And once it was in place...

Well. Let the next problem come.

Akiko pushed back from the locker, floating into a shadowed corner of the bay. Her HUD lit up as Takuto projected the installation sequence again.

Time to see if this thing was worth the risk.

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The first panel clicked into place at the base of her neck, locking into the original device with a seamless hiss. A wave of warmth spread through her spine, and her HUD flared, new options blinking into place.

The rest followed quickly, wrapping into a sleek ring. When she slotted the sapphire centerpiece into position, it pulsed, soft and electric, and her vision flickered as energy surged through her.

Installation complete. System diagnostics nominal.

Mana storage empty. Operating on user reserves.

Akiko braced herself against the wall as the warmth ebbed. The interface felt like a breath expanding her entire body. Mana channels wider, focus sharper, every nerve attuned.

Then, a rustle. Barely audible, but wrong in the stillness.

Her ears twitched. Tail tensed.

Movement in the far doorway. Silhouettes slipped into view, backlit by the corridor glow. Coordinated. Armed.

"Guess the false trail didn't fool everyone," she muttered, fingers flexing.

Foxfire sparked at her hands.

Skill Layer Update:

New Category Detected: Mana Manipulation

Status: Novice (3.6% milestone achieved)

The first attacker lunged. Akiko flared her palms wide, a burst of flame flinging her backward in a controlled spin. She twisted midair, momentum crisp, and fired.

The bolt surged through the sapphire. Amplified, focused. It struck like thunder.

Her assailant slammed into the far wall, limbs limp, a panel collapsing behind them.

Akiko winced. Too much.

Subskill Acquisition (Mana Manipulation): Volumetric Control – 5.4% milestone achieved.

Note: Initial spike detected. Refinement tracking active.

The blast had drained her instantly. Her chest burned. The sapphire dimmed, adjusting to her falling reserves.

Another attacker closed. She snapped a tighter, smaller blast. A precise spark. It hit clean, knocking their weapon loose and sending them tumbling.

The effort stole her breath. Her vision narrowed at the edges. She couldn't keep this up.

The remaining figures hesitated, shaken. She didn't give them a second chance. Akiko surged toward the corridor, legs coiled, body shaking. Her pulse pounded as the bay fell away behind her.

Resource Warning: Mana reserves below operational minimum.

Skill tracking suspended until recovery.

System Note: Amplifier strain exceeds predicted tolerance.

"No kidding," she gasped, teeth clenched.

The station blurred around her. She ducked into side corridors, using handholds and instinct to stay clear. The ache in her chest deepened, hollow and sharp, like the magic had scraped her out.

Ahead, a security camera blinked.

Akiko stopped short.

"Can you… make that thing forget me?"

Takuto pulsed in reply. A progress bar appeared, crawling by as her tail flicked with impatience.

"Surveillance feed erased. No trace detected."

Subskill Progress (Digital Systems Intrusion, Adept): Network Infiltration – 5.3% milestone achieved.

She exhaled. "Good work."

Heart hammering, she skimmed through its blind spot, moving fast.

The sapphire core at her throat still glowed, but dimly now, guttering.

She grimaced, one hand brushing the augment's surface. The power was staggering. But the price…

"Not my best operation," she muttered, dragging herself around a corner.

Behind her, distant voices echoed. She kept moving.

Kaede's voice surfaced in memory. Always measured, always patient.

Control, Akiko. Magic isn't just a weapon you hurl at the world. It's a tool. A responsibility.

Akiko snorted under her breath, half-wry.

"Guess you were right, sis."

She'd relied too long on instinct. On brash, burning willpower. That wouldn't cut it here. Not anymore.

If she wanted to survive what was coming, if she wanted to win, she'd need more than foxfire and fury.

She'd need control. But for now, she needed rest.

The danger had passed, at least for tonight, but the Yard was vast, and her actions had stirred the waters. She felt it, quiet and rippling. The Driftknight called to her now. A place to regroup, to breathe.

She moved through the quiet corridors of the Yard, every movement marked by fatigue. The machinery hummed faintly around her. Distant voices murmured behind closed hatches. The night cycle had softened the station into a hushed, drifting hush.

Her body ached. Not sharply, but everywhere. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only weight behind. The memory of the encounter clung to her.

Not fear, exactly, but something close. The understanding that she was being watched now.

She reached the airlock. It hissed open with a familiar note. She stepped inside and felt tension ease just slightly. The Driftknight's lights were dimmed for the hour, its corridors quiet.

Home, in its own way.

Her tail swayed as she drifted toward her bunk, her only real plan to collapse and sleep off the chaos.

Then she paused. The lounge lights were on.

Kara sat near the wide viewport, arms folded loosely, gaze fixed on the stars. In the half-light, the sharpness of her face softened, but the tension remained. A furrow between her brows. A stillness that wasn't peace.

Akiko hesitated. She wasn't close enough to Kara to intrude casually.

But something about the quiet moment tugged at her.

"You're up late," she said, voice soft enough not to break the calm.

Kara didn't look away, but a faint smile ghosted across her lips. "Could say the same for you."

Akiko drifted closer, leaning lightly against the bulkhead. "Had some things to take care of."

Kara glanced over, eyes flicking across Akiko's disheveled state and the wear in her posture.

"Looks like 'things' gave you trouble."

Akiko shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

A low chuckle. Kara leaned back, gaze returning to the void.

"You get used to it," she said. "The surprises. The chaos. That sense like everything's one bad moment from falling apart."

Akiko tilted her head. "That what's on your mind?"

Kara didn't answer right away. Her fingers tapped the armrest once, then stilled.

"This place…" She gestured loosely toward the stars. "The Yard. The colonies. We've always been patching it together. Holding it with spit and weld lines. But now?"

Her voice dipped.

"Now it's cracking faster than we can hold it."

Akiko nodded slowly. She understood that more than she wanted to.

"The station. The entity... it's not just one threat," she said. "It's a shift."

Kara's gaze turned thoughtful. "It's more than that. Something's unraveling. This... magic, or whatever you call it, it's changing the rules. People feel it, even if they don't know why. And fear spreads faster than facts ever will."

Akiko didn't respond. She wasn't sure how much to say. How much was hers to admit. But Kara wasn't wrong. The system was shifting, and Akiko was at the heart of that gravity.

"You think it's going to get worse," she said, not quite asking.

Kara nodded once. "Yeah. I do. And I think we need to be ready, whatever that means."

Silence settled between them again, heavy but not cold.

Akiko straightened, exhaustion returning like a wave. "I should sleep," she said.

Kara didn't stop her. Just offered a small nod. "Good idea. Long days ahead."

Akiko turned and floated back toward her bunk, her thoughts still circling.

Whatever was coming, whatever the system was becoming, this was only the beginning.

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