Battle Of Planets
Chapter 75: Awakening?

Chapter 75: Awakening?

Edward and Seraphina watched silently as Tyson took his leave, his steps dragging and shoulders hunched. They didn’t dare to stop him. They knew he was in pain, but there was nothing they could do.

He needed time—time to process everything, to regulate his emotions, and to think clearly. What they had told him wasn’t simple; it was life-altering and would change his entire life and the people around him. Yet, no matter how much they wanted to, neither could make this decision for him.

"Dad... do you think we did the right thing by telling him?" Seraphina murmured, her eyes still tracking Tyson as he walked away.

"I don’t know... and I’m not even sure what will happen next." His gaze darkened. "I wish Edmund was here. That bastard would’ve figured out a way through all of this."

Seraphina smiled with sadness. She understood what he meant.

If her father were alive, he would have rescued them—Nancy, Elria, everyone. That’s just what he did. He had a knack for uncovering light amid the darkest storms.

However, now that responsibility was hers.

She wasn’t as brilliant as her father, nor was she a master strategist. She carried the burden of Elria, holding a title she wasn’t sure she truly deserved.

"But this choice, Sera... it has to be his." Edward leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. "Only Tyson can make this decision. Not you, not me—no one else in this world."

Seraphina stayed silent.

She knew he was right. Tyson was about to make the biggest decision of his life, and even she, as the President of Elria, couldn’t do something like that.

"I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s feeling," Seraphina murmured. "If I were him... would I even be able to—"

She stopped herself.

Edward flashed a small, knowing smile. "Tell me about it. This is the dread we often experience in that battle room."

Seraphina hesitated before asking, "What would you have done, Dad?" Her voice was soft, almost uncertain. "You always seem so wise... you must know the right answer."

Edward took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "There’s no right answer, Sera. None."

He leaned back, his expression distant. "If I were him... I would have crumbled. Just like I did when I found out about her death. Just like I did when I took lives with my own hands—when I let rage consume me."

His gaze shifted toward the door that Tyson had walked out of. "But look at him. He’s still standing. He’s still searching for a way."

Seraphina wiped her eyes. "I hope he finds it. I hope we find it."

Edward nodded. "Don’t be afraid, my child. Your father is still alive—right here with you. I will protect all three of you, no matter what. Even if I have to lay siege to Babylon alone."

A faint smile emerged on Seraphina’s lips. That’s true. How could she possibly forget? Although she had lost her biological father, she found another in Uncle Edward.

The man everyone referred to as a savior. The man who would do anything to safeguard his family.

----

Tyson pulled out the diary he had tucked away beneath his shirt, his fingers gliding over its worn cover. Once, Victor Winters himself had held this diary, just like this Meta-bot.

The man who had sacrificed everything for this world—yet his daughter is in danger. She was on the brink of confronting something horrific, and Tyson could do nothing to prevent it.

He couldn’t even find the words. "What am I supposed to do?" he whispered, as if expecting an answer from the diary itself.

The Meta-bot blinked.

In the dim night, the white light flickered softly against the cover of the diary—almost as if it were trying to convey something. It felt like a reminder: I’m here with you.

Tyson reclined on the bench, gazing at the sky.

Why? Why was this his life? What had he done to deserve this?

First, he had to live as an orphan, cast aside by the very people who had brought him into this world. His so-called parents abandoned him in the name of duty. Now, if he chose duty over Nancy, wouldn’t he be just like them?

There will be no difference; he will become like the one he hated the most...His parents!

"It’s a damn curse," Tyson muttered, pressing his hand against the Meta-bot on his chest. "This life... it’s just a curse."

The flickering light on the diary gradually faded.

Then, the first raindrops started to fall.

The rain poured more fiercely, each drop hitting Tyson’s skin like tiny pebbles. Yet he stood there, motionless, as the world around him rushed for shelter. People hurried past him, pulling jackets over their heads, peeking beneath ceilings, and huddling in groups under storefronts. Their voices blurred into distant murmurs, and their laughter and complaints faded into the noise of rain hitting the pavement.

But Tyson remained still. His clothes clung to him, soaked through, the weight of the rain bearing down on him like the burden he bore.

A faint white light slowly flickered on his chest. The Meta-bot activated itself.

Nano-particles stirred as if animated by an unseen force, enveloping him silently. The smooth armor assembled piece by piece, being careful not to disturb him. His black hair dripped, strands cascading over his weary eyes, yet he remained still—oblivious to the transformation happening around him.

He stood there, alone. His hands curled into fists, then transformed into iron gauntlets.

The helmet quickly sealed over his face, protecting him from the unending downpour.

Tyson blinked, finally coming out of his daze. His breathing hitched as he looked at himself, his hands now clad in armor. The rain no longer fell on him.

"N-No... this isn’t—" He paused, looking around. "How is this possible?"

Meta-bots never activate on their own; they only respond to their host’s commands.

But this... this felt different.

It was as if the Meta-bot had chosen to protect him.

A white Ranger stood in the pouring rain, bewildered and broken. The puddles at his feet mirrored his armored figure in striking, vibrant clarity.

Tyson placed a trembling hand on his chest. "Are you... alive?"

The white light flickered gently in response.

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips, and a solitary tear slipped down his cheek.

Tears streamed down his face. However, for the first time in ages, he felt a sense of companionship.

The bond between him and the Meta-bot was unlike anything before—something deeper, something genuine.

He had never heard of anything like this before; they had never actually responded to anything, but now he witnessed something miraculous. Was this due to his connection to it or Nancy’s connection to the meta-bot?

This situation was truly mysterious, but nonetheless, he had to rise from this sorrow and find a solution. "I’m sorry," Tyson whispered. "I don’t know if it’s because of Victor or my own feelings, but I promise I will be there for Nancy. I will absolutely find a way for us."

The light blinked once more—this time, more intensely.

Tyson smirked as the screen deflected the raindrops. He then dashed like lightning, and people could see the White Ranger running into the storm.

Lightning sliced through the sky, casting sharp, electric flashes across the city as The White Ranger sprinted...Faster than ever, driving himself towards the one place that truly mattered.

The place where his heart belonged.

Nancy was leaving in the morning. He knew this, and yet, even with that knowledge, he had been unable to do anything—unable to speak, unable to stop her. Every time he tried, the words failed him.

But now, something stirred in his Meta-bot: an unexplainable energy.

It was a miracle, and if miracles can happen once, then why not again? Why not again and again? If fate wouldn’t offer him one, he would create one himself.

Perhaps that’s what the Meta-bot had been trying to communicate to him all along.

"I’m coming."

A white blur zipped past an elderly woman by a fruit stand, the sudden gust of wind almost knocking her off her feet.

"Who goes there?!" she shouted, startled, but by that time, he had already left. She shook her head, muttering. "These kids... go play somewhere else."

Tyson chuckled. He felt energized.

The strength flowing through him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could sense it—his Meta-bot reacting to every command, every movement, every thought.

They had evolved beyond being merely a weapon and its wielder. They had become one. And nothing—nothing—was going to stop him now. The Meta-bot retracted the instant Tyson reached her doorstep.

He let out a surprised chuckle. "I suppose you had this planned from the start, huh, Whity?"

The name had simply slipped out.

But the Meta-bot offered no response—almost as if it disapproved. If it could talk, it probably would have scolded him.

Tyson smirked. "What, you didn’t like that name?"

No response. He shook his head. He turned his gaze toward the house.

Through the dimly lit window, he spotted Miss Winters moving about inside. He exhaled and glanced down at his soaked clothes. He looked like a wreck.

Out of breath, he pressed the doorbell. A muffled voice replied, "I’m coming!"

The door creaked open, revealing Miss Winters. She appeared exhausted, but as soon as her eyes met his, all of that seemed to fade away.

Her expression changed—shock, relief, and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

"T-Tyson?" she murmured, then gasped, her eyes widening. "You’re soaked! What happened to you?!"

Tyson smiled, handing her the diary as he stepped inside, water dripping from his clothes.

"A miracle."

Miss Winters glanced down at the diary, recognition flickering in her eyes. Then she raised her gaze back to him, a smile gradually spreading across her face.

"She’s in her room," she said softly.