Chapter Seventy-Five: The Truly New Humanity

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Hero’s Exclusive Nascar-Class High-Speed Warship

“Boss, are you really not planning to join the battle?” The Hero’s strategist—Chaos Head—looked at his leader with a pained expression as she was busily changing ancient calligraphy fonts to ‘Slender Gold’. “Our useless second-hand steel balls are one thing, but if you send your A-rank out there in the super battle, the rewards would basically be handed to you on a silver platter. Letting those two teams reap all the benefits doesn’t seem quite right.”

“What do you know!” Phoenix Seeker moved her laser pointer away, arching an alluring brow as she shot Chaos Head a look of disdain. “My Phoenix Seeker, with its off-the-charts psychic power, is a strategic deterrent weapon. If I had to personally step in to deal with small fry like Long Legs, I’d be lowering myself. Besides, as the joint leader, isn’t it fair for me to claim half the spoils from them? If they refuse, well, I’ll just wipe them out.”

Her voice, rich and magnetic, was heavy with confidence in her own A-rank abilities.

Beam weapons were completely useless, and live ammunition was no more than a tickle. Phoenix Seeker simply couldn’t see any scenario in which she would lose.

“Well then, Boss, let’s discuss something else.” Seeing that his leader had already made up her mind, Chaos Head’s eyes darted as he raised a long-standing issue that had troubled everyone.

“What is it? Speak.” Phoenix Seeker narrowed her eyes languidly.

“Boss, could you maybe change out of that qipao? Doesn’t it feel awkward to be floating around in zero gravity with such a high slit?” Chaos Head hinted that such visual ‘benefits’ were simply too much for him and his crew to bear.

He resented how his eyes involuntarily drifted toward Phoenix Seeker.

From afar, their teammates nodded vigorously in agreement.

If the need arose, they were all prepared to gouge out their own eyes in self-preservation.

“What? Is there something strange about what I’m wearing?” Suspended in mid-air, Phoenix Seeker raised a snowy white leg with utter nonchalance and began striking seductive poses.

“Uh… never mind, forget I said anything.” Chaos Head hesitated for a full thirty seconds before swallowing back his retort.

His teammates’ furious glares were enough to burn holes in him.

It wasn’t that they were such paragons of virtue that they were beyond reproach, nor that they had no interest in the perks of being around women.

Rather…

Directly beneath Phoenix Seeker’s skirt, a ZAFT mechanic was inspecting the data with a pair of tweezers, but his eyes had long since drifted upward against his will.

Although the gender ratio in the military was no longer as despairingly skewed as before, all the female soldiers already had fixed partners.

Take Captain Creuset, for example. The higher-ups assigned him five beautiful, youthful eighteen-year-old female soldiers, but he refused for personal reasons, and so the captain of the Visalis ended up with all the benefits.

Damn it! Are the rest of us low-ranking grunts doomed to rely on our golden right hands?

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Thus, the resentful mechanic had been reassigned to this warship, temporarily under the Hero’s command.

And so, these inexperienced men found themselves utterly captivated by Phoenix Seeker.

There was no denying it—adding attribute points was truly the greatest gift bestowed upon them by the Mainframe Space.

An ordinary bystander (like Hao Ren, for instance) had a charm stat of 10; a cool beauty with a strong neutral aura like Ryougi Shiki scored 15; while a voluptuous anime-perfect queen like Saeko Busujima was at 17.

But Phoenix Seeker? She had maxed out her charm to 20…

With her light green, wavy, shoulder-length hair, an E-cup bust, and luscious hips and thighs, she sent these ZAFT soldiers, starved of feminine allure, into a dizzy spell.

From the ZAFT mechanic’s point of view:

His palm pressed against the computer keyboard as a flood of meaningless data scrolled across the screen, but he was oblivious.

“What kind of panties could they be?” The mechanic wondered with anticipation. And to reward the audience’s curiosity, Phoenix Seeker’s qipao hem lifted up completely.

…

The mechanic’s expression froze.

Shrouding the mysterious feminine sanctuary was a pair of pure black lace thongs, with just a palm-sized scrap of fabric strung together, making one marvel at the sheer profit margin of the lingerie industry.

But…

What was that strange bulge beneath the black cloth?

For a moment, the mechanic’s mind shut down.

He wasn’t a virgin; he knew that a mature woman’s sensitive areas would naturally have some degree of curvature—differences were normal.

But this bulge, almost surpassing his own, what was that supposed to mean?

His stomach lurched; his mouth stretched open—and he vomited.

In zero gravity, the filth floated in a nauseating cluster.

Phoenix Seeker, 31 years old, a doctoral student from Bangkok studying at a university in the Celestial Empire—gender unknown.

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…

Chaos Head and his comrades were utterly stunned.

The moment the mechanic vomited, Phoenix Seeker’s face darkened.

“Strategist, should we find a place to hide?” one of the crew had already half ducked into a corridor, not wanting to get splattered.

“Retreat!” Chaos Head barked, his wild, explosive hair bouncing as he turned and ran (or rather, floated) away.

“Wait! Weren’t we supposed to convince the boss to go to the battlefield?” a chubby teammate asked dumbly, only to be swiftly chopped at the neck by Chaos Head and dragged off.

Such is the fate of those lacking situational awareness.

The mechanic, terror-stricken, was hoisted by the collar into the cockpit of the Psychic Gundam by Phoenix Seeker. Before long, heart-wrenching male screams and exuberant male laughter could be heard from inside.

You really can’t afford to mess with a new-type double-ended socket.

“Damn it, the suit’s energy!” Watching the power gauge edge into the red zone, Kira grew anxious.

Although Hao Ren’s undead fists had raised the Strike’s EN cap from 144 to 180, after consecutively using two spells and sticking to melee combat to conserve beam rifle ammo for nearly ten minutes, he was truly at the end of his rope.

Magic?

The Mule and Blind Duck’s eyes practically turned green with envy.

When they saw the Unicorn Duel sortie alongside the Strike Mobius, they simultaneously cursed Captain Creuset for hiding intel. When they detected the Strike Duel’s unusual stats and paint scheme, they knew there was a top-notch Gundam mechanic among their enemies on the Archangel. If possible, they’d capture him alive; if not, he had to be eliminated—no way would they let the other two teams get their hands on him.

But then, they saw the Strike raise its hand, and a pale yellow aura enveloped three S-rank, one A-rank, and the Archangel itself—followed by rapid self-repair that was mistaken for DG cells. The two team leaders went fully Spartan.

An entire party excitedly unloading DPS, only for the boss to keep casting undispellable, uninterruptible heals—how were they supposed to finish this raid?

“What the hell is up with this TD?” The two of them filled the ZAFT comms channel with angry, bewildered shouts.

That pale yellow aura was called “Healing of the Earth.”