The golden light radiating from Princess Mana's pocket was not the cold, sterile glare of the machine, nor the heavy, encroaching dark of Raven's power. It was soft, flickering, and curiously nostalgic, reminiscent of an old-fashioned oil lamp illuminating a dusty library.
Mana reached into her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as she drew out the golden gachapon machine. It was no longer humming with that low, mechanical vibration. Instead, the acrylic globe was spinning wildly, defying its own inertia. A beam of golden light shot upward from the machine, projecting a shimmering, three-dimensional hologram into the sparking, debris-filled air of the central core.
The projection did not resolve into a weapon or a map. It formed the figure of a man.
