Chapter 23: Entering the Battle

When engaging in combat, silence is key.

Throughout history—aside from grand-scale wars—the victors in most battles have been the quiet ones. Like unseen blades, unnoticed and undetected, their strikes come without fanfare. By the time the enemy realizes what happened, it’s already far too late.

That was the very first lesson Yao Bingling ever gave his Valkyrie trainees:

“The deadliest things are often the least conspicuous.
Bright mushrooms, colorful frogs—creatures know better than to touch beauty hiding poison.
But you are different.
Honkai beasts reveal strength through size; mechs by energy levels.
Humans cannot.
Hide your power—let it sleep like a volcano.
Then, when the moment comes, erupt.
That is how victory stands behind you.”

It was for this reason that Yao Bingling’s first training module for the Valkyries wasn’t tactical combat—it was assassination.

Ancient, efficient killing techniques designed for eliminating key human targets on the battlefield.
Of course, the academy head disapproved, claiming, “These girls are warriors who fight the Honkai, not lowly assassins!”

But privately, Yao Bingling never stopped “coloring the white paper” of these girls, shaping them into soldiers who could kill in silence.

Judging from how Himeko’s attack came with a furious roar before even landing, though, she’d clearly thrown that entire lesson straight out the window—without so much as a return receipt.

Yao Bingling wanted to shout at her, but then he remembered—his current form.

That pale, corpse-like skin, the glowing Honkai circuits crawling up his neck and into his eyes… He didn’t need a mirror to know what he looked like now.
A dead man.
A soldier-shaped revenant—the very image of Jinwu, the flame-wreathed entity haunting his spirit.

This was his secret.
And Himeko didn’t know.
Good. The less she understood, the better.

Up above, Himeko glared down at the humanoid creature below her.

In her crimson eyes reflected a being shaped like a man—muscles packed tight as explosives, left arm gone, feeding off the flesh of a fallen Honkai beast.
Its face still bore traces of humanity, but its golden eyes blazed like twin fires.

A Deadwalker.
No doubt about it.
But since when did a Deadwalker have the power to kill Honkai beasts?

Questions flooded her mind, but they were drowned out by one instinctive command echoing in her skull—

[Honkai must die.]

The voice of her first instructor.
Her creed ever since.

She came down like a meteor, her greatsword forged of reinforced alloy, its core reactor flaring at full output. One swing could split a tank in half.

But the pale creature didn’t even flinch.
It stood motionless, eyes glowing ever brighter—an omen that made Himeko’s instincts scream danger.

And then—impact.

In the instant her blade descended, the “Deadwalker” lunged upward, catching her sword with his bare hand. The steel shrieked.
With a twist of his torso and one explosive pull, he tore the weapon right out of her grasp!

Before she could even process what happened, a heavy blow struck her chest.

She hadn’t even seen the punch.

The impact slammed into her armor like a siege ram. Pain shot through her ribs; her heart skipped a beat.
If not for the emergency reinforcement in her combat suit, that punch alone would’ve stopped her heart.

The creature’s speed was monstrous—
In the time it took her weapon to fall to the ground, it had already disarmed her and landed two crushing blows!

The next moment, she was airborne, hurled back five meters, crashing into the scorched ground.

Through the settling dust, two burning golden eyes stared back at her.

What in the world is this monster?

Even the Herrschers couldn’t have executed an attack sequence that fast.

The ground trembled again. The wind howled.
That pale blur was already rushing toward her—its speed matching that of a hunting leopard.

She could see her reflection in its golden pupils, frozen with disbelief.
She didn’t even have time to be afraid.

But then—
The monster’s expression changed.
Shock.

Because both of them heard it.

Engines.

A harsh sputtering roar—metallic, uneven—like an old farm bike coughing up its last breath.

Headlights cut through the dust.

A motorcycle.

“Put-put-put—”

The sound of something ancient, ugly, and loud enough to offend mechanics everywhere.
The kind of thing used by farmers hauling crates or old taxi drivers running cheap rides.

And from that rickety machine—gunfire erupted!

The pale creature staggered back as sparks and blood flared from its chest. The blood ignited midair, raining like molten fire.

Eight gunshots. Rapid. Precise.
All hit center mass.

The shooter had the arm strength of a veteran—and terrifying accuracy.

But Yao Bingling recognized the gun immediately.

[Colt Python—Modified.]

His own revolver.
The one he’d lost in a rush.
And now, someone was shooting him with it.

The bullets tore through his skin but stopped at his reinforced bones, unable to penetrate further.

“Mei—jump!”

The rider’s voice was clear and commanding.
Her passenger leapt off the moving bike with agile grace—like a deer in mid-spring.

Now unburdened, the rider grinned.

She gunned the throttle, sending the battered old motorcycle screaming forward like a suicidal charge of steel and rust.

At ten meters out, she vaulted from the seat, legs like coiled springs.
The motorcycle became her weapon.

Hurtling straight toward the pale monster.

Even a decrepit machine weighing over a hundred kilos carried massive kinetic energy at that speed—far deadlier than bullets.

But the creature didn’t dodge.
Didn’t even blink.

At the last moment, it reached out—
Caught the bike by the front frame—
and swung it like a club, slamming it into the dirt!

A monster indeed.

Kiana clenched her teeth.

Her hand went to her waist, drawing her second sidearm—
a massive black Desert Eagle.

Also stolen—from that same “old bastard’s” hidden weapons cache in his bedroom wall.

Her father had once told her:

“A real soldier never leaves his weapon behind.”

She hadn’t believed it—until she’d found Yao Bingling’s private arsenal:
Knives, pistols, rifles, shotguns—even a rocket launcher with five rounds.

It was enough to start a small war.

Kiana sighed at the memory.

“Sorry for using your toys without asking…
But thanks to them, we’re still alive.”

She squeezed the trigger—eight times in one breath.

A full clip dump.

Each shot hit dead center—right on the fuel tank.

The same tank the shopkeeper had filled just that morning.

Himeko’s eyes widened—then she grinned.

She dove flat to the ground.

The explosion came a heartbeat later.

BOOM!

Flames roared skyward as the old bike disintegrated, showering molten metal and burning fuel over the creature.

When the smoke cleared, Kiana landed lightly, both hands still gripping her pistols.

With a flick of her wrists, she dropped the empty shells—reloaded in one smooth, practiced motion.

Two clicks. Two gleams.
Ready again.

Her white hair swayed in the rising heat.

She raised both guns toward the burning silhouette before her.

“B-Rank Valkyrie Kiana—joining the fight!”

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Thinking… no way. My dumb Kiana can’t possibly look this cool, right?!