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**Azure-3, Pinocchio, Dreaming of the Frontier**

Pinocene never truly slept.

This city, built atop the ruins of a colossal starship, is a renowned "Dream City" in the galaxy. Travelers from all star systems come here seeking pleasure, oblivion, or simply a moment away from reality. Even in the relatively quiet "Dream Frontier" region, far from the core business district of "Golden Hour," a slightly intoxicating aroma still lingers in the air. It's a blend of countless perfumes, alcohol, e-cigarettes, and a certain environmental medium called "Memory Matter," which subtly influences emotions.

The viewing platform on the cliff edge is a secluded spot in the Dream Frontier. Wooden floors extend from the cliff face, and a transparent energy barrier replaces railings, allowing visitors an unobstructed view of the surging, phosphorescent ocean below, and the fairytale-like silhouettes of "Morning Dew Mansion" and "Child's Dream" in the distance. Several elegantly designed suspended lights provide soft illumination, and in a corner, an old-fashioned jukebox plays soothing jazz music.

Kafka likes it here.

At this moment, she leaned against the glass barrier of the observation deck, her head slightly tilted, gazing at the "Clockboy" statue bobbing on the distant sea. A gentle evening breeze ruffled her burgundy hair, and a strand of bangs that always framed her face swayed softly. She wore her signature outfit: a white backless blouse, a short black jacket casually draped over her shoulders, the cuffs hanging loosely; high-waisted black shorts tightly hugged her hips and thighs, outlining her full curves; her long legs were completely covered by sheer, deep purple pantyhose, which shimmered delicately under the platform lights, extending from her toes to her thighs, the decorative band on her right thigh creating a soft indentation. Asymmetrical black high-heeled ankle boots—right leg knee-high, left leg ankle-high—made a crisp, rhythmic sound on the wooden floor.

She held a glass of wine in her hand. The amber liquid swirled slowly in the spherical glass, ice cubes clinking against the sides with a soft tinkling sound. It wasn't anything fancy, just the "Revisiting Old Dreams" signboard of a small bar on the border of dreams, its flavor on the sweeter side, with a hint of almond and citrus. But she drank it slowly, intently, as if savoring something about to pass away with each sip.

"Looking at the sea again?" a voice came from the side.

Kafka didn't turn around immediately. She first drank the last bit of wine in her glass, letting the warm, sweet taste slide down her throat, before slowly turning her face.

It is the dome.

The young pioneer—or rather, the one she preferred to call "darling"—was walking toward her. He was wearing his slightly worn train crew uniform, his jacket open over a simple grey T-shirt, his face showing the weariness of having just finished a patrol, but his eyes were still bright. His steps were steady, his boots making a much duller sound on the wooden planks than her high heels.

“The scenery here is nice,” Kafka said, her voice husky and languid. “It’s quieter than ‘Golden Hour.’ At least for now, no Bloodthorn or the Dream Theatre will bother us.”

Qiong walked to her side and leaned against the glass barrier, mimicking her posture. Their shoulders were almost touching, and she could smell the faint scent of train cleaning fluid and cosmic dust mixed with a hint of salty sweat on him.

“I just came back from ‘Asagao Mansion’,” Sora said, her gaze also fixed on the distant sea. “The owner of the mansion seems to be very concerned about the recent anomalies in the flow of memory matter, and has asked the train crew to help investigate. Aunt Himeko and Mr. Walter are analyzing the data, and March 7th is insisting on going to ‘Children’s Dream’ to look for clues… I’m just taking a break.”

"Taking a break?" Kafka raised an eyebrow slightly, a half-smile playing on her lips. "This isn't like the Trail Blazers I know. You used to squeeze in training even when you were just having a cup of coffee."

“People change.” Qiong shrugged, his tone light, but Kafka caught a fleeting, complex emotion in his eyes. Had he changed? Perhaps. From the boy who woke up in the Herta space station with a blank memory, to the nameless man who could stand on his own now, his journey hadn't been long, but every step he took had been on the edge of fate. And she was the one who first tuned his voice.

“Yes, it changes,” Kafka repeated softly, placing the empty glass on a small, floating round table beside her. Her movements were gentle, her fingertips tracing the cool glass. “Like the sea. It seems to always be the same, with the tides rising and falling, but in reality, the water at each moment is not the same as the water at the last moment.”

Qiong turned his head and looked intently at her profile. The platform lights cast soft shadows on her pale skin, making her features appear more defined, and even more... elusive. The sunglasses that were always perched on her head reflected the distant neon lights, and behind the lenses, her pale purple eyes—he knew they were colored contact lenses worn for some kind of disguise—were staring into the void, their focus unfocused.

“You seem to be spending a lot of time alone lately,” Qiong said, her tone carrying a barely perceptible concern. “Silver Wolf said you’re not even interested in trying out the new game she cracked, and Blade also said your ‘Spiderweb’ has been unusually quiet lately.”

“Oh?” Kafka finally turned her gaze back to his face, her smile deepening, tinged with her usual teasing. “My little wolf cub and my grumpy darling care about me so much? It’s truly touching. But…” She paused, turning slightly towards him, the coat draped over her shoulders slipping down a little, revealing more of her fair neck and shoulders. “I was just thinking about some things. Some things about… the 'future'.”

"The future?" Qiong repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. Conversations with Kafka were always like this; her words were like her spiderweb, seemingly woven randomly, yet each thread could lead to an unexpected trap or truth. "Isn't there any new instruction about the future in Eriol's script?"

“Elio’s script…” Kafka chuckled softly, the sound like a feather brushing against your eardrum. “My dear, a script is just a possibility. A worldline that has been observed and has a relatively high probability. But possibilities change with every choice, with every heartbeat.” She raised her hand, her burgundy gloved fingertips lightly touching her temple. “Like me. I don’t have a mechanism for ‘fear.’ There’s a blank in my brain. But it’s precisely this blank that allows me… to look more freely at those threads bound by predetermined fate.”

Her words always carried a philosophical undertone, a mixture of the obscurity of a "nihilistic" destiny and her own cold, personal poetry. Qiong didn't always fully understand, but he could feel the weight of her words. He remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze involuntarily falling on her. From her casually tied-up red hair to her beautifully shaped neck, then to her chest, which rose and fell slightly with her breath, encased in a white shirt. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing a small patch of delicate collarbone and a faint shadow below. His gaze continued downwards, sweeping over her slender waist, the rounded, pert curve of her buttocks beneath her shorts, and finally, her legs tightly encased in deep purple stockings.

The stockings appeared incredibly fine, almost blending seamlessly with the skin, yet under the light, subtle textile textures were visible. The purple was deep, almost black, yet it exuded an eerie, alluring charm befitting a star hunter. The toes were encased in black high heels, revealing only the outline of the shoe; above the stockings, between the edge of the shorts and the tip of the stockings, there was a small section of absolute territory—the fullest and most tender part of the inner thigh, where the skin appeared even whiter and smoother under the stockings, the faint red marks left by the stocking straps like a silent invitation.

Qiong felt a dryness in his throat. He quickly looked away, gazing at the sea, trying to calm the sudden heat rising within him with the cold night view. This wasn't the first time he'd noticed Kafka's...attraction. But in the past, such thoughts had always been suppressed by reason, by his complex feelings for her, by the sliver of distance between their positions. Yet now, on this tranquil, seemingly secluded viewing platform, with only the two of them, jazz music playing softly in the background, and the sea breeze carrying a salty scent...those suppressions seemed to weaken.

Kafka took in his reaction. She said nothing, but the smile on her lips deepened, and a hint of understanding, along with a deeper, more unfathomable emotion, flashed in her pale purple eyes. She turned back to face the sea, placing her hands behind her against the glass barrier. This movement made her chest thrust out even more, and her waist arched backward in a breathtaking curve.

“Sometimes I think,” she spoke again, her voice even softer than before, almost blending into the wind, “if one day, the script comes to an end, and all the threads find their home… what will we become? Star Core Hunters, and you, dear Trailblazers.”

"I don't know," Qiong answered honestly, turning around and leaning against the glass in the same position as her. Their arms were almost touching, and through their clothes, he could feel the cool temperature emanating from her body. "But I think... the road can always go on. Even without a script, without a prophecy."

“Such optimism.” Kafka turned her head to look at him closely. Her breath brushed against his cheek, carrying the faint sweet scent of the wine they had just drunk. “But I like this optimism. It makes you…very special.”

Her gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds, then slowly moved down, sweeping over his lips, Adam's apple, chest... finally returning to his eyes. That look was no longer purely mocking or probing, but rather mixed with a rare, almost tender quality.

Qiong's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found himself at a loss for words. Language seemed pale and powerless in the face of this atmosphere. He could only look at her, at those purple eyes that seemed to suck away souls, at her slightly parted red lips so close to his.

Time seemed to slow down. The jazz changed to a more tender tune, the saxophone sobbing like a lover's sigh. Distant neon lights cast fragmented reflections on the sea, swaying gently with the waves. The wind seemed to have stopped, the air thickened, filled with a tension that seemed ready to erupt at any moment.

Kafka slowly, very slowly, moved a little bit closer to him.

It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible. But every muscle in Qiong's body tensed. He could smell a clearer scent emanating from her—not perfume, but a more natural fragrance, a blend of skin scent, a faint smell of sweat, and a certain cold, metallic aroma. It was the scent of "Kafka," dangerous, mysterious, and captivating.

Her lips were only a few centimeters away from his.

Then she stopped.

She didn't kiss him. She just stood there, gazing at him with her deep eyes, as if waiting, inviting, or conducting a silent trial.

Qiong's breathing became heavy. His reason screamed, reminding him of the woman's identity, her purpose, and the grand scheme behind her. But his body, some primal urge deep within him, yearned to close that final distance.

He raised his hand, trembling slightly, wanting to touch her cheek.

Just before his fingertips touched her skin—

A sudden change occurred.

First came a gust of wind.

It wasn't a natural sea breeze, but a sudden, bone-chilling gust of air that poured down vertically from directly above the viewing platform. It was so fierce that it whipped the coat draped over Kafka's shoulders backward and violently ripped the stray hairs from her forehead.

Then came the light.

A faint, almost imperceptible green streak, like a miniature meteor falling from the night sky, plummeted straight down. It was so fast that it left only a fleeting afterimage on the retina. Its target was clear, its trajectory precise—heading straight for Kavka, who was leaning against the glass barrier.

Kafka's reaction was lightning fast. The instant the air blast hit, her pale purple pupils contracted sharply, her body instinctively dodging to the side and back, while her right hand flashed to her waist—where her tactical dagger was usually hung, or at least the medium through which she could unleash "bewitching words".

But it was too late.

The green light underwent a bizarre transformation just before it touched her body. It was no longer a beam of light, but rather "spread out," transforming into countless tiny, lifelike green specks of light, like a swarm of thirsty fireflies, instantly enveloping her entire body.

No, it's not about enveloping—it's about "penetrating".

The light spots ignored the physical barriers of clothing and skin, penetrating directly inside. They seeped in through her bare shoulders and neck, through the gaps in her shirt, through the mesh of her stockings… they were everywhere.

"Well--!"

Kafka's body stiffened abruptly. A short, suppressed groan escaped her throat. Her eyes widened instantly, her pupils dilating rapidly before contracting and trembling violently, as if she were witnessing some incomprehensible horror. A strange green glow briefly flickered across her pale purple irises.

Her hands shot up as if trying to grab or push something away, but her fingers merely convulsively opened and curled, her nails digging deep into her palms. Her long legs were taut and straight, the heels of her high heels pressing firmly against the wooden planks, making a creaking sound. Her entire body began to tremble slightly uncontrollably, every muscle from her toes to her hair struggling against some invisible force.

"Kafka!" After his initial shock, Sora reacted immediately, roaring as he lunged forward to grab her. But the moment his hand touched her arm, he was repelled by a powerful, inhuman force. It wasn't Kafka's own power, but some kind of external, violent energy field, carrying a nauseating, sweet-smelling mixture of ozone and other odors.

"Get...away..." Kafka squeezed out the words through clenched teeth, her voice completely distorted, no longer the languid, hoarse quality it once was, but twisted, broken, filled with extreme pain and struggle. Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead, her face was as pale as paper, her lips had lost all color, and she trembled slightly.

Green specks of light slithered beneath her skin, like a swarm of parasites, rapidly spreading along the pathways of blood vessels and nerves. Through the thin white shirt, Qiong could even see faint green lights flashing beneath her skin on her chest and abdomen. On her bare shoulders and collarbone, the green veins beneath her skin were even more distinct, like poisonous tattoos spreading rapidly.

"What is this?! Kafka! Hold on!" Qiong was frantic, but he found himself helpless. He tried to get closer again, but the energy field remained, repelling him. He tried to call for help, but his communicator seemed to have been interfered with by the impact, emitting a piercing static. He looked around; the observation deck was deserted, and the distant streets were unusually quiet, as if the area had been temporarily isolated.

Kafka's trembling grew more and more violent. She began to gasp intermittently, as if suffocating. Her head tilted back, her neck stretching into a fragile arc, her Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Her pale purple eyes, which were always full of control, were now completely unfocused, the pupils dilated, and fine blood vessels began to appear on the whites of her eyes.

Then, change began.

Her trembling suddenly stopped. Not a return to calm, but a complete, deathly stiffness. Like a doll whose life had been instantly drained away.

Then, her head slowly, with an extremely unnatural, mechanical speed, straightened itself again. The movement was stiff, and her joints seemed rusty, making a faint, teeth-grinding "click" sound.

Her eyes refocused.

But his eyes have completely changed.

It was no longer Kaffa's gaze, a blend of languor, mockery, and profundity. Instead, it was a... pure, cold scrutiny, filled with inhuman curiosity and cruelty. Deep within her pupils, the eerie green glow settled, like two dark, flickering will-o'-the-wisps.

The corners of her mouth began to twitch upwards.

It wasn't Kaffa's elegant, enigmatic smile. Instead, it was a wide, almost grotesque grin, filled with malice and ecstatic rage. The grin stretched all the way to her ears, revealing neat, but now starkly white, teeth. This smile was so incongruous, so distorted, that it utterly destroyed the breathtaking beauty of her face, replacing it with a chilling, sinister quality.

"Heh...heh..." A laugh rolled out of her throat. Low, hoarse, with a distinctly inhuman tone, and a static-like crackling sound. "Success...connection...stable..."

Qiong felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave. He took a step back, his blood seemingly freezing. The person before him… no, this thing, though still wearing Kaffa's shell, was completely different inside. That aura, those eyes, that smile… it was definitely not Kaffa!

"Who...who are you?!" Qiong shouted sharply, simultaneously assuming a fighting stance. The power of his star core began to stir subtly within him, golden light gathering in his palm. "What did you do to Kafka?!"

“Kaf… Ka?” The “thing” occupying Kafka’s body tilted its head, its movements still stiff, but filled with a curiosity that mimicked a human. It (or perhaps it?) raised a hand, placed it in front of its eyes, and slowly rotated its wrist, examining the long, slender hand wearing a burgundy glove. The silver spiderweb pattern on the glove shimmered slightly under the light. “This is… the name of this body? Ha… a lowly creature… even its name is so… pretentious.”

The voice was still Kaffa's, but the tone, rhythm, and word choice had all changed. It had become rougher, more direct, and filled with undisguised contempt and arrogance.

"Answer me!" Qiong roared, the golden light in his palm intensifying. He couldn't attack rashly, for this was, after all, Kafka's body. But the threat before him was so real, so intense, that it made the hairs on his body stand on end.

“Me?” It finally shifted its gaze from its hands and turned it back to Qiong. Those pale purple eyes, glowing with a greenish light, scoured Qiong from head to toe, as if assessing an object, or… a prey awaiting slaughter. “Cryptosporidium-138. A Furon agent. You can call me Crypto.” It grinned, its smile becoming even more exaggerated. “As for what I did to this body? Simple, I ‘borrowed’ it. Your biological structure is too primitive, your nervous system riddled with flaws; taking over was a piece of cake. Now, this beautiful shell is mine.”

Qiong's heart sank. Takeover? Possession? Alien invader? Countless terrible thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. But he forced himself to calm down. He had to rescue Kafka! He had to drive this damned invader out of her body!

"Get out of her body!" Qiong gritted his teeth, and golden energy began to form a faint halo around him.

"Get out here?" Crypto (perhaps now we should call him "he") let out a series of piercing laughs, as if he had heard something amusing. "Hahaha! You lowly monkey, you think you can order me around? Who do you think you are? This body is mine now, I can use it however I want. And..." He paused, his gaze falling on himself (Kafka) again, the scrutiny turning into undisguised, lustful greed. "I must say, you human females, though inferior in nature, are quite attractive in appearance... much better than the rock lizards on the planet we colonized last time."

As he spoke, he raised his hands, no longer staring blankly, but began to caress his body in a rough, possessive manner.

He suddenly grabbed his own (Kafka's) left breast with his left hand, kneading it forcefully through the white shirt. His fingers dug deep into the soft flesh, stretching the fabric and clearly outlining the shape of his fingers. He even pinched the clearly protruding nipple under the shirt with his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling it hard.

"Mmm...!" A short, muffled groan, a mixture of pain and strange stimulation, escaped Kafka's throat. But Crypto quickly suppressed the sound, turning it into a low, panting chuckle of pleasure. "Ah... the feel... soft, elastic... even fuller than it looks... not bad, not bad at all..."

Her right hand slid down her side, grabbing her own (Kafka's) buttocks, tightly encased in black shorts. Her fingers squeezed and kneaded the round, firm buttocks, feeling the fleshy elasticity and warmth beneath the fabric. Then, her hand continued downwards, stroking along the outside of her thighs, finally stopping above her knees, which were covered in dark purple stockings.

He lowered his head, his gaze burning as he stared at his legs. The stockings gleamed alluringly under the light, a deep purple that almost blended into the shadows, yet the fleshy color of the skin beneath peeked through their tautness. The stockings were incredibly fine, clinging tightly to his skin, outlining the beautiful muscle lines of his calves and the rounded contours of his knees.

“This layer of stuff…” Crypto ran his fingertip across the surface of the stockings, making a soft rustling sound, “What is it? Decoration? Restraint? Never mind… It feels so good. Smooth, tight, and thin…”

Like a child discovering a new toy, he began to play with the body even more recklessly. His left hand continued to roughly knead the breasts, sometimes grasping the entire orb, sometimes pinching and twisting the nipple with his fingers, the buttons of his shirt stretched almost to burst open. His right hand repeatedly stroked along the thighs covered by stockings, from the root of the thigh down to the calf, feeling the firmness and warmth of the muscles under the silky fabric. He even bent down and cupped his (Kafka's) ankles and calves, clad in black high heels, with his palms, kneading them forcefully.

“Legs… long, straight… well-proportioned muscles… slender ankles…” he muttered to himself, his voice filled with excited discovery. “These shoes… strange design, but they feel good to wear. Height-increasing? To appear taller? Vain, lowly creatures…”

Qiong stared at the bizarre and blasphemous scene before him, his rage almost consuming his reason. Kafka's body, that powerful, mysterious woman who stirred complex emotions within him, was now being possessed by a disgusting alien consciousness, brutally manipulated like a doll! And what about Kafka's own consciousness? Where was it suppressed? Could she feel any of this? Could she feel the pain and humiliation of her breasts being roughly kneaded? Could she feel the disgust of her thighs being caressed by a strange consciousness?

"Stop! You bastard!" Qiong could no longer hold back and roared, the golden light in her palm condensing into a blazing beam of light, which shot fiercely towards Crypto.

Crypto seemed still immersed in exploring his new body, reacting a beat too slowly to Qiong's attack. However, the Kafka body under his control displayed astonishing combat instincts—or rather, Crypto's neural reflexes as he rapidly adapted to this body.

With a sudden twist of her waist, "Kafka" glided to the side with an almost dance-like grace, narrowly avoiding the golden beam of light. The beam grazed the spot where she had just stood, striking the glass barrier behind her with a muffled "bang." Ripples spread across the barrier's surface, but it did not shatter.

“Oh? Attacking me?” Crypto steadied himself, releasing his hand from kneading her breasts, but his right hand remained on his (Kafka's) thigh. He tilted his head, looking at Sora, his pupils filled with mockery and contempt. “Using this… primitive method of energy projection? Is this all you humans are capable of?”

He raised the hand that had just kneaded her breasts, sniffed it, and then stuck out his tongue—Kafka's originally pink and soft tongue, now moved with a reptilian stiffness and swiftness—and licked his fingertips.

"The taste... a little salty, a little sweet... the smell of sweat? Or is it just the natural scent of this body?" He smacked his lips, revealing an even more wicked smile. "Not bad. I like it very much. It seems that this mission, besides collecting data and finding star core fragments, will also have some extra... entertainment."

"Entertainment?" Qiong's voice was as cold as ice. "I'll show you what happens when you mess with the wrong people!"

He held back no longer, unleashing the full power of his star core. Golden light, like tangible flames, rose from his body, illuminating a small area around him. His speed suddenly increased, transforming him into a golden afterimage, instantly closing in on Crypto and throwing a punch at his face. The fist whistled, carrying the power to shatter metal and stone.

Crypto didn't dodge this time. He/She simply raised his/her left hand—the hand wearing a burgundy glove, the hand that had just roughly kneaded her breasts—fingers out, palm facing forward.

There was no light, no energy fluctuation. But Qiong felt as if his fist had struck an invisible yet incredibly resilient wall. The power was dispersed, absorbed, and ultimately vanished. Not only that, but a cold, slippery spiritual force attempted to invade his consciousness from the point of contact.

Is it "misleading words"? No, that doesn't feel right. It's cruder, more direct, and full of aggression and destructiveness.

Qiong immediately withdrew, shaking her slightly numb fist, her eyes grave. This alien consciousness not only possessed Kafka's body, but also seemed to be able to use some of her abilities? Or perhaps it was its own ability being used through this body?

“Not bad, monkey.” Crypto shook his left hand, seemingly a little surprised. “This body’s qualities are even better than I imagined. Nerve conduction speed, muscle strength, energy affinity… all far surpass those of an ordinary human. Looks like I got lucky and picked a high-class specimen.”

As he spoke, he refocused his attention on his own (Kafka's) body. It seemed that Sora's attack had merely interrupted his interest in exploring the new toy, and now he was ready to continue.

“I didn’t get enough of touching you just now…” Crypto chuckled softly, moving both hands simultaneously.

This time, he was even more brutal and unscrupulous.

He grabbed the collar of the white shirt with both hands and yanked it hard to both sides!

"Sizzle—!"

The sound of tearing fabric was particularly jarring on the silent platform. The top few buttons of the shirt popped off, the placket ripped open, revealing a black bra with lace trim. The bra was a front-fastening style, encasing two full, round, snow-white breasts, the deep cleavage gleaming alluringly under the light. Several distinct red marks from the rough handling were clearly visible on the breasts, starkly contrasting against the fair skin.

"Oh? There's another layer?" Crypto's eyes lit up, and without hesitation, he hooked his finger around the front clasp of the bra and gently pulled it open.

"Click".

The bra popped open and slid down to the sides.

A pair of breasts, perfect like works of art, were completely exposed to the cool night air and to the sky's eyes.

They are of moderate size, perfectly teardrop-shaped, full and perky, without any sagging. The areolas are a light pink, not large, but with a clear outline. The nipples are a deeper cherry red, now erect due to the cold and stimulation, like two small red beans adorning the snow-white peaks.

Crypto let out a satisfied, almost sighing groan.

“Beautiful…so beautiful…” he murmured, his hands eagerly covering her breasts. This time, there was no barrier of clothing, just direct skin-to-skin contact. He cupped her breasts in his palms, feeling their heavy weight, their amazing softness and elasticity. His fingertips dug into her flesh, then bounced back with each press. He pinched her two erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing and twisting them vigorously, even gently scratching the sensitive tips with his fingernails.

"Ah... um..." Kafka's lips parted in broken moans. Her voice still carried pain, but it seemed... also mixed with a forced, aroused physical pleasure. Her body trembled slightly, whether from the cold or from the complex and intense stimulation coming from her nipples, it was hard to tell.

Crypto lowered his head, opened his mouth, and took his right nipple into his mouth.

"Ugh!" Qiong's eyes widened in horror, and he almost rushed forward to fight. But he forced himself to remain calm. He had to find this monster's weakness! He had to get it out of Kafka's body! Blindly attacking would only harm Kafka's body!

Crypto sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth gently nibbling. His other hand wasn't idle either, continuing to knead and play with his left breast, his fingers digging deep into the flesh, leaving even deeper red marks.

After a long while, he reluctantly released his mouth and raised his head. His right nipple was glistening with his saliva, reflecting a lascivious sheen under the light. The nipple, sucked until it was even more swollen and erect, and the areola around it flushed with arousal.

“The taste…is wonderful.” Crypto licked his lips, his gaze growing even more intense and frenzied. “Milk-like? And a little…metallic? What’s on this body? Whatever…I like it.”

He seemed completely absorbed in the sensory stimulation this body provided. His hands left the breasts and began to explore downwards.

His right hand slid down his flat, firm stomach, his fingers hooking around the waistband of his black shorts. The shorts were made of a very elastic material, clinging tightly to his hips and upper thighs. He pulled the waistband down forcefully, pulling the small, black lace panties underneath down to mid-thigh.

Suddenly, Kafka's most private area was exposed.

Below her lower abdomen, her pubic bone rose slightly, covered with neatly trimmed, wine-red pubic hair that echoed the color of her hair. The pubic hair wasn't thick, lying softly against her skin. Further down were her tightly closed, pink, and moist labia. Due to the stimulation and her body's tension, the labia were slightly parted, revealing an even more delicate flesh color inside, and a glistening sheen.

“Here…” Crypto’s breathing became noticeably heavier. He extended his right index finger and pressed it directly against the center of her labia, feeling its softness, warmth, and slight trembling. “This is… the entrance to a female’s genitals? It looks… fragile, very… alluring.”

His fingers began to move. Not caressing, but a more direct, more brutal exploration. He parted her labia with his fingertips, revealing the even pinker, wetter opening inside. Then, he forced his fingers inside.

"Ugh—!" A more painful, sharper groan burst from Kafka's throat. Her body arched upwards abruptly, her legs trembled violently, and her toes curled tightly inside her stockings and high heels. The intense pain of being forcibly violated, mixed with the strange, bloated feeling of being filled with a foreign object, and a forced, uncontrollable physiological reaction, caused her (or rather, her body's instinct) to utter such a sound.

Crypto, however, seemed encouraged. He moved his fingers in and out of the tight, moist passage, feeling the spasms and compression of the inner muscles. His movements were devoid of any skill, just pure, violent thrusting, his nails scraping against the tender flesh.

“Tight…so tight…it’s hot and wet inside…” he panted, his other hand not idle either, grabbing another breast and kneading it hard. “This is…the internal structure of a human female? Evolved to accommodate male genitalia? Primitive, but…effective. Feels good.”

He withdrew his finger, a thin, viscous strand of clear fluid trailing from its tip, stretching into a long, silvery thread under the light. He held his finger up to his eyes, then stuck out his tongue and licked the fluid clean from his fingertip.

"The taste... a little fishy, ​​a little sweet... This is 'semen's fluid'? It was mentioned in the data..." He smacked his lips, seemingly conducting some kind of academic evaluation, but the excitement and lust in his eyes betrayed him. "Data collection... This is also part of data collection, that's right."

He turned his gaze back to the slightly swollen, moist, and muddy opening. Then, he did something that nearly drove Qiong to the brink of collapse.

He controlled Kafka's body, taking a few steps back until his back pressed against the glass barrier again. Then, he raised his right leg—the one clad in dark purple stockings and high heels—and placed his foot on a slightly higher decorative stilt beside him.

This movement spread her legs wide, completely exposing her most private parts. The stockings stretched taut over her thighs due to the elevation, the edges digging deep into her flesh, creating even deeper indentations. The heels of her high heels dug deeply into the gaps in the wooden planks, providing stable support.

Then, Crypto's right hand reached towards his genitals again.

But this time, instead of using his fingers, he put three fingers together and thrust them even more roughly and forcefully into the already wet opening.

"Ah—!!!" An even more piercing scream. Kafka's body convulsed violently, her hands unconsciously scratching at the glass behind her, her nails scraping against it with a grating sound. Her head was thrown back to its limit, the veins in her neck bulging, her pale purple eyes staring fixedly at the night sky, her pupils dilated, and tears finally welled up uncontrollably, sliding down her pale cheeks.

Crypto seemed oblivious to the screams and the body's pain. He frantically thrust his fingers in and out, three fingers ramming and probing inside the tight passage, searching for the so-called "G-spot" or any spot that could elicit a stronger response. His left hand kneaded the breasts forcefully, pinching and twisting the nipples, while he lowered his head to take the other nipple into his mouth again, sucking and biting hard.

He was like a wild beast that had discovered delicious prey, playing with and savoring it before eating, enjoying the pleasure of the prey's struggle.

Qiong could no longer bear it.

The piercing screams, the brutal violation of his body, the tears streaming from Kafka's eyes… all of this burned like a red-hot iron into his soul. His reason snapped, leaving only primal anger and a protective instinct.

"Get out here!!!"

The roar drowned out the wind and the distant, indistinct jazz music. The stellar core power within Qiong erupted with unprecedented intensity; the golden light was no longer merely a halo, but a blazing flame that enveloped his entire being. His eyes shone with an intense golden light, his hair moved without wind, and the wooden floor beneath his feet groaned under the weight.

He no longer cared whether he would harm Kafka's body. At this moment, he had only one thought: to destroy the filthy consciousness that had taken over her body!

"Starry Sky Railway - Sky Rift!"

He clenched his fists in front of his chest, and the raging golden energy instantly condensed into a massive spear made of pure light. Starlight patterns flowed along its blade, and its tip possessed destructive power capable of tearing space itself apart. Without the slightest hesitation, Qiong used all his strength to hurl this spear of light towards Crypto—towards Kafka's heart!

The light spear tore through the air with a sharp, explosive sound. Space itself distorted slightly in its wake, leaving a golden afterimage trail. This strike concentrated all of Qiong's power and fury, its speed extreme, its power enough to pierce the armor of a warship.

Crypto finally snapped out of his reverie. He jerked his head up, a hint of seriousness flashing in his pale purple (with a greenish tinge) eyes for the first time. He could sense the energy level contained within the spear of light, far exceeding that of previous attacks. His body's instincts were also screaming alarms; his muscles tensed, and his adrenaline surged.

"Tsk... What a troublesome monkey!"

He cursed, finally stopping the rough thrusting of his fingers into the acupoints and releasing his grip on the nipple. But instead of dodging—perhaps because there wasn't enough time, or perhaps out of arrogance—he made a move that Qiong never expected.

Kafka's hands moved swiftly in front of her, the movements fluid and eerie, a stark contrast to her previous stiffness. The silver spiderweb pattern on her burgundy gloves seemed to come alive, glowing faintly. In the air, countless almost imperceptible threads, shimmering with a pale purple light, appeared out of thin air, instantly weaving into a dense, layered web in front of her.

It is not a physical entity, but rather a creation of energy and spirit. The threads are delicate, yet possess an incredibly resilient texture, interlocking to form a perfect buffer structure.

The light spear crashed hard into the "spider web".

There was no earth-shattering explosion. Golden light rubbed against, canceled out, and annihilated the pale purple threads in a violent collision. A piercing sound, like metal cutting glass, echoed across the platform. The spiderweb was forced inward by the immense impact of the light spear, threads snapping one by one with a soft crackling sound. But more threads poured out from Kafka's hands, constantly repairing and reinforcing the network.

The standoff lasted for about two seconds.

Finally, the light spear's energy was exhausted, turning into countless golden specks of light that dissipated. The pale purple spiderweb, also tattered and broken, slowly vanished into the air.

Crypto's controlled body swayed slightly, taking a small step back, his high heels clicking clearly on the wooden planks. His breathing became rapid, and more cold sweat beaded on his forehead—this time, it was due to genuine energy depletion. But the twisted smile on his face only grew more excited.

"Ha...haha!" He gasped for breath, looking down at his (Kafka's) slightly trembling hands, then looking up at the sky, his eyes filled with the ecstatic joy of discovering a new continent. "Interesting! So interesting! This body...this body actually has this kind of ability?! Manipulating energy threads? Mental interference with reality? This is not a power that an ordinary human should have!"

He seemed to have completely forgotten the danger he had just faced, and once again immersed himself in exploring the potential of this body. He repeatedly opened and closed his hands, feeling the residual energy flow at his fingertips, muttering to himself: "Special neural circuits... energy nodes hidden under the skin... require specific mental frequencies to activate... incredible! What exactly is this female called 'Kafka'?"

Qiong's heart sank to the bottom. That attack just now was almost the strongest single-target attack he could currently unleash, and it had actually been blocked! Moreover, the opponent seemed to be... rapidly adapting to and mastering Kafka's abilities? How could this be? How could an alien consciousness that had just taken over a body be able to utilize the host's power so quickly?

Unless... this alien consciousness itself possesses an extremely high talent for mental manipulation, or its racial characteristics have some similarity to Kafka's "bewitching" ability.

There was no time to think it through. Qiong saw Crypto refocus his attention on Kaffa's body, his eyes burning with an even more intense desire to "test" his new ability. He had to deal with him before Crypto fully mastered his power!

Qiong took a deep breath, suppressing his surging blood and anger. Golden light shone around him again, but this time it was more restrained and concentrated. He changed his strategy. A head-on confrontation seemed impossible; his opponent could mobilize Kafka's defensive capabilities. Therefore, he would use speed, skill, and the potential restraint of the spiritual body by the power of the star core!

He pushed off with his feet, his figure transforming into a golden afterimage once more. But this time, his trajectory was more elusive; he no longer charged in a straight line, but moved swiftly across the platform like a ghost, leaving behind trails of afterimages. At the same time, his hands continuously lashed out, unleashing a barrage of relatively small but more condensed golden energy blades that rained down on Crypto's entire body—not targeting vital areas, but rather joints, nerve nodes, and other places that might affect his control.

Crypto was indeed caught off guard by this sudden change. He tried to weave those pale purple energy threads for defense again, but his movements were noticeably more clumsy and sluggish than before. The quantity and quality of the threads had decreased significantly, barely managing to block some of the energy blades. More energy blades grazed his body, leaving shallow bloodstains on his (Kafka's) exposed skin, or tearing his already tattered shirt and stockings.

"Ugh!" A groan of pain escaped her lips. An energy blade sliced ​​across the outside of Kafka's thigh, tearing a gash in her deep purple stockings and revealing her fair skin and a wound from which blood was rapidly seeping.

The pain stimulated Crypto, and it also seemed to enrage him.

“Damn bug! You ruined my new toy!” he roared, no longer trying to defend himself completely, but instead attempting to fight back. He mimicked the feeling when he blocked the light spear, pushing his hands forward with a sudden burst of energy.

This time, instead of a defensive spiderweb, dozens of pale purple energy threads, like whips, swept towards the sky with a sharp whistling sound. The threads' trajectories were chaotic and disorganized, but they were extremely fast and covered a wide area.

Qiong's pupils contracted, and he stopped abruptly, performing several somersaults to the side and back, narrowly avoiding most of the threads. However, a few still grazed his arm and side, cutting his uniform and causing a burning pain on his skin, accompanied by a chilling, bone-chilling sensation that seemed to be trying to penetrate his very marrow.

"As expected... he's learning, he's adapting!" Alarm bells rang in Qiong's mind. This alien consciousness was learning at an astonishing speed! He had to find a decisive opportunity to strike before it fully mastered it!

The battle entered an even more dangerous tug-of-war phase.

With his superior agility and extensive combat experience, Qiong constantly moved about, harassing and slashing with a dense barrage of energy blades, attempting to find weaknesses in the coordination and reaction speed of Crypto's controlled body. He noticed that Crypto experienced extremely brief delays when simultaneously performing fine movements (such as manipulating energy threads) and body movement. Moreover, his control over some of Kafka's subtle muscles was not perfect, especially when making complex or non-instinctive movements, where his coordination would decrease.

Crypto, on the other hand, grew rapidly in battle. He went from being able to defend clumsily at first to gradually being able to organize effective counterattacks with his threads; from using the energy threads roughly to beginning to try to imitate some of the techniques that Sora had seen and that Kafka had used before—such as making the threads suddenly change direction or weaving them into simple binding traps.

But at the same time, his desecration and manipulation of Kafka's body did not stop; on the contrary, it intensified due to the stimulation of the battle. In the intervals between dodging or attacking, his hands would involuntarily caress her breasts, waist, and thighs, as if confirming ownership of her body, or as if enjoying the dual pleasure brought by the mixture of battle and lust. His breathing became heavier and heavier, and an abnormal flush rose on Kafka's cheeks, whether from the exhaustion of battle or from a physiological reaction caused by the continuous stimulation, it was unclear.

"Left! You're too slow!" Qiong seized an opportunity. The moment Crypto manipulated the threads to weave the trap and his body tilted slightly to the left, a golden energy blade that had been charging up for a long time shot out like a venomous snake, accurately targeting the back of "Kafka's" left knee joint.

Crypto sensed danger and tried to move his right leg to support his body and dodge to the side, but his left leg was a beat too slow—clearly, he hadn't yet perfectly coordinated all the muscle groups in his body during the intense movement.

"Pfft!"

The energy blade struck its target squarely. Not at the joint, but at the back of the thigh. The deep purple stockings were completely ripped open, flesh torn open, and blood gushed out instantly, staining the torn stockings and the fair skin beneath.

"Ah—!" Crypto let out a painful roar, losing his balance and falling to his knees. The heel of his high heel struck the wooden board with a dull thud. He braced himself with his hands to prevent himself from falling completely.

Chance!

A fierce glint flashed in Qiong's eyes. Without the slightest hesitation, he charged forward like a cannonball. This time, his goal wasn't to kill, but to control! His hands, covered in dense golden light, grabbed directly at "Kafka's" shoulders, attempting to temporarily suppress or even expel the alien consciousness using the power of the star core!

However, just as his fingers were about to touch the other person's shoulder—

Crypto raised its head.

The pain, the anger, and even the twisted excitement from before were gone from his face. Only an extreme, icy calm remained. In his pale purple eyes, a steady green glow burned, like two bottomless ancient wells.

A slow smile curved the corners of his mouth.

It wasn't a sneer, but rather a... knowing, mocking, "Kafka-esque" smile.

Immediately afterwards, Qiong heard a voice.

It's not Crypto's rough and inhuman tone.

It was Kavka's voice.

That unique, husky, languid voice, so familiar to him, seemed to steal one's soul.

The voice was very soft and gentle, even carrying a faint hint of weakness and dependence.

"Honey……"

Qiong's movements froze instantly.

As if doused from head to toe with invisible ice water, all his aggressive intentions, all his anger and resolve crumbled before that call. His mind went blank, with only that voice echoing in his ears.

"You...you're hurting me..."

"Kafka" knelt on the ground, looking up at him. Tears streamed down her face again, but this time, her gaze was no longer empty or crazed, but filled with the familiar depth that belonged to Kafka and... a hint of sorrow. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her pale face contorted with pain, her torn shirt was open, revealing breasts covered in red marks and teeth marks, and the wounds on her legs were still bleeding. She looked fragile and disheveled, yet utterly real.

Qiong felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, the pain almost suffocating him. Was it Kafka? Had her consciousness returned? Had she regained control? Or... was this just a despicable disguise by that alien monster?

Reason is screaming: Don't believe it! This is a trap! He was just using your body to do disgusting things!

But emotions are like a burst dam: What if it's true? What if she really has temporarily broken free of control and is calling for your help? Can you continue to attack her like that?

In that brief moment of hesitation and struggle by Qiong—

The sorrow and weakness on "Kafka's" face receded like the tide. That familiar smile, full of mockery and a sense of control, reappeared, but deep in her eyes, Crypto's signature, cruel green glow flickered.

“Looks like… this trick really works.” Crypto said in Kafka’s voice, his tone relaxed, as if everything that had just happened was just a performance. “You lowly creatures, your ‘feelings’ for your companions… are the easiest weakness to exploit. Just a slight imitation of your tone and expression is enough to make you act like you’ve been put on pause.”

Qiong felt a chill run through her body, as if she had fallen into an ice cave. It was a disguise! A despicable disguise!

But it was too late.

In the brief moment he froze, Crypto had already completed his plan.

Countless pale purple energy threads had already silently spread out from behind "Kafka" and from the shadows of the platform, like living vines, and suddenly burst forth!

Instead of attacking, they instantly wrapped around Qiong's legs, waist, and arms. The threads were incredibly strong, possessing a powerful binding force, and continued to tighten. Even more terrifying, chilling mental fluctuations emanated from the threads, attempting to interfere with Qiong's consciousness and weaken his resistance.

Qiong awoke with a start, roaring as golden light erupted from his body once more, attempting to sever the threads. However, there were simply too many threads, and they seemed to possess a unique energy structure, exhibiting some resistance to the power of the star core. He broke off a few, but more immediately coiled around him.

“Don’t waste your energy, monkey.” Crypto slowly stood up. Although his injured left leg made him stagger, his smile was full of victorious pride. “While I haven’t fully mastered all the abilities of this body, the basic ‘weaving’ and ‘binding’... are enough. That’s one of her strongest areas, isn’t it?”

He walked up to Qiong, who was bound by layers of silk threads and struggling, and looked down at him. Then, he raised his foot—the one clad in tattered stockings and a high heel—and gently nudged Qiong's chin with the tip of his shoe.

“Now, game time is over.” Crypto bent down, bringing his face close to Sora's, and spoke the most vicious words in Kaffa's alluring voice. “You lost, you inferior creature. Your companion, her body, is now my property. And you… perhaps you are still somewhat useful. After all, collecting 'mating data' requires a compatible male sample, right?”

Qiong's eyes were practically spitting fire as he struggled frantically, but the threads tightened more and more, and the mental interference made it difficult for him to concentrate. Shame, anger, worry, despair... a whole host of emotions almost overwhelmed him.

Crypto stopped looking at him. He straightened up and focused his attention back on his own body. He looked down at the wound on his leg and frowned.

"Tsk, it's bleeding. It needs to be treated, otherwise it would be a shame to leave a permanent scar on this beautiful body." He muttered to himself, then, as if remembering something, his gaze fell on the staircase leading from the observation deck to the street below.

“I remember… in the fragments of this body’s memories, there seems to be a temporary residence nearby? A safe house?” He tilted his head, searching through the scattered memories of Kafka that he had forcibly retrieved. “Dream Border, Seventh Cantilever, ‘Dreamy Alley’… That’s right.”

He snapped his fingers. More energy threads surged from his hand, binding the struggling Qiong like a dumpling, leaving only her head free to move. Then, the threads contracted, forcibly dragging Qiong off the ground.

“Let’s go, my dear ‘experimental subject’.” Crypto controlled Kafka’s body, limping towards the stairwell, with the bound Sora being dragged behind by silken threads. “Let’s find a more… private place. Let’s complete the ‘data collection’ task Pox assigned.”

His laughter drifted away in the night wind, mingling with the last notes of jazz music, disappearing at the edge of Pinocchio's never-ending dream.

Qiong was roughly dragged along, her gaze fixed on the familiar yet utterly unfamiliar back ahead. She looked at the wine-red hair, the snow-white breasts swaying beneath the tattered shirt, the long, beautiful legs encased in stockings and stained with blood…

Kaffa...

He called out silently in his heart.

wait for me.

I will definitely rescue you.

No matter the cost.