Chapter Thirty-One: Wasn't That a Thorn?

The white towering spires rising from deep beneath the earth—those are the iconic landmarks that gave the Thorn District its name. For the citizens of this city, they are nothing more than familiar marvels, part of the everyday scenery. The towers have never posed any danger, nor has any unusual phenomenon ever been associated with them. They simply stand in silence where once the spine of a great dragon lay, one of the scant traces left by that colossal creature, woven into the city’s tapestry of peculiar sights.

Even the most curious of schoolchildren rarely show much interest in probing the depths of the thorns, for the truth of the towers is universally known. There is, as Gongsun Ce now replied, only one answer: “Aren’t those the spines on the back of the Celestial Dragon?”

Every child, even from the neighboring building, knows that the white towers are the dragon’s spines. The area near the thorns is far from strictly guarded; the official measures amount to a symbolic fence around the towers, and not even a sign prohibiting photography stands there. Only when the rare mischievous student tries to climb or carve their name into the structure do the guards bother to issue a perfunctory warning.

Over time, hardly any students pay them any mind. Like the event posters by the pedestrian bridge or the pigeons perched on the corners of tall buildings, the giant towers of the Thorn District have become nothing more than another unremarkable feature of city life.

“Spines? The authorities do call them thorns, but have you ever wondered why the Celestial Dragon would have spines on its back?”

The question was well beyond Gongsun Ce’s grasp. The last time he studied biology was in high school, and certainly there were no university electives in “Dragon Anatomy.” It was unreasonable to expect an ordinary student to answer such a question.

“…As close-quarters weapons, perhaps? It could ram its back into enemies…”

Even if he didn’t hear the information broker’s reply, the laughter of the hunter beside him told the Esper that he was wrong.

“Wow! A dragon this size fighting hand-to-hand—no hero in a tokusatsu show could match the span of its wings. Ah Ce, your imagination knows no bounds.”

“If you ask me, the fact that this dragon has wings at all is absurd! How could a creature so massive possibly fly with just a pair of leathery wings? Any biology or aerodynamics teacher would be in tears!”

They appeared midway along the pedestrian bridge, then vanished beneath a darkened streetlamp, disappearing from the view of a passing office worker. The middle-aged man, his eyesight poor, rubbed his eyes. The azure orchid he thought he saw a moment ago had vanished without a trace. He decided to blame it on a prank by some superpowered teenagers, or on a hallucination brought on by stress.

The information broker’s recording played intermittently, the sound somewhat distorted.

“You’re quick on the uptake, Ah Ce! You may not realize it, but you’ve already touched on the key point.”

“I have no idea what you mean. What does the Celestial Dragon’s flight have to do with the white towers of the Thorn District…”

His voice slowed as he spoke. A dragon whose very body rivaled a city in size could never fly at high altitude powered only by two wings. One didn’t need expertise to understand that the Celestial Dragon must have used a force or technology unique to the dragon calamity—to itself or others of its kind. If one considered flight as a factor…

A guess formed in the young man’s mind.

Alice Edal voiced it first: “The thorns are the Celestial Dragon’s auxiliary flight organs?!”

“That’s what I believe. Just as large mechas have multiple thrusters to aid in maneuvering, the white towers of the Thorn District are likely mechanisms for adjusting the dragon’s flight posture.”

The overweight youth’s recording continued, offering more detailed speculation, but the young man was no longer listening. In his mind, he pictured the ancient scene: the gray-blue dragon unfurling its wings, jets of air, energy, or smoke bursting from its back. Its mountain-like body twisted with agility, allowing it to soar freely across the sky.

In its eyes, it could see the entire world, yet the people and beasts below were oblivious to its flight, their meager vision perceiving only the shadow that blotted out the sun. Now the Celestial Dragon was dead, and humans had built a city atop its remains. He was one of those inhabitants.

This thought filled him with a terror he could not repress. Such a dreadful dragon, such a magnificent being, yet it had been slain by the Empire in less than three hours. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way—yes, he had witnessed the devastation wrought by the evil dragon—but he still could not help but wonder: what was truly more terrifying, the dragon calamity, or the humans capable of bringing down such a monster?

While he was lost in thought, Alice had already snatched the phone and was speaking to the broker: “Can you provide any evidence…”

“Sorry, Miss Edal. I can point out traces at the borders between the Fixed Wing Zone and the Vicious Wing Zone that support the theory, but these are not direct evidence. Of course, the blueprints of the Celestial Capital would prove everything, but if I had such documents, I doubt the authorities would let me continue as a mere information broker.”

The hunter was momentarily speechless, and the Esper took back his phone. “What if these are just the dragon’s gallstones?”

The overweight youth drawled exaggeratedly on the other end: “Gallstones! You’re a riot. Whether they’re exhaust ports, gallstones, or extra teeth sprouting from its back, the point is that anything emerging from underground probably connects to the depths below. Tell me—does that logic check out?”

“If the towers are hollow, it does. Can we really catch up?”

“Taking the Celestial Dragon’s VIP passage will be faster than any ordinary route. Whether you can catch up is up to fate. Want to give up halfway?”

“Don’t kid yourself—even if you gained another two hundred pounds, I wouldn’t quit.”

After another teleportation, the pair finally arrived at Bluefeather Station near the sewage plant. The staff member, leaning against the railing and absorbed in his phone, had no time to be startled by their sudden appearance before a handful of cash was pressed into his hand. The hunter impatiently told him, “Keep the change—get us the fastest bird to Whitefeather Station in Thorn District.”

The older employee eyed the money, muttering to himself how rare cash payments had become these days. Still, the sum handed over by the blue-haired foreign woman was obviously sufficient. He nodded and hurried off to choose a bird.

Gongsun Ce continued listening to his old friend’s instructions: “So sharp-tongued, you’ll break hearts. Have you reached Bluefeather Station yet?”

The staff led them to a green-feathered, broad-tailed bioengineered hummingbird.

“We’re here—taking a bio-hummingbird tonight.”

“Watch out for airsickness. Once you get back to Thorn District, go to the giant tower in the park and find a guard nearby. Tell him: June 24th, Radiant Fist. He’ll help you.”

The hunter stiffly turned her head. “Huh, what?”

The Esper waved her off, signaling her to hold her questions: “Noted, Mr. Mo. Anything else?”

“That’s all—good luck, Ah Ce. I’ll send you the info on the dragon cultist leader later. The peace of the Celestial Capital is in your hands tonight!”

After receiving the last message, the bio-hummingbird took to the wind, carrying them toward Greyfeather Station two districts away.

Gongsun Ce conjured a protective shield with his ability. The hummingbird was even faster than the pigeon from before; that they weren’t shaken off immediately was likely thanks to some adjustments made by the researchers.

He didn’t need to look back to know the hunter behind him was thoroughly confused.

The Esper shrugged. “Just think of it as secret code between tokusatsu geeks.”

“Tokusatsu… That’s the kind of show kids like? Where they fight monsters?”

What do you mean, only kids like it? Plenty of young men and adults are fans of tokusatsu! That sort of comment is as arrogant and prejudiced as saying only little girls like magical girl anime!

…But now wasn’t the time to defend children’s media, lest he draw attention back to himself—then he truly would have no way to explain. The bespectacled youth silently apologized to the information broker, then said, “Yes, that’s the one. Mo Yuankai loves that stuff.”

The blue-haired woman seemed skeptical. “Is that so? Now that you mention it, I’ve always been curious…”

He understood the source of her bewilderment.

The whereabouts of the dragon cultists, intelligence about the giant towers, methods of entry—these were things no ordinary citizen should possess. For an information broker to have them was almost preternatural.

To this, Gongsun Ce replied simply, “I can’t tell you.”

“Ehh?” He felt the hunter’s hands grip his shoulders, her voice brimming with the curiosity of someone hungry for gossip. “How rare—you, of all people, refusing to discuss something!”

What do you mean, chatterbox?

He merely enjoyed conversation, liked to offer opinions, occasionally talked to himself, and sometimes became animated during debates—did that really make him a chatterbox?

“It’s easy to talk about my own affairs, but other people’s matters aren’t for me to use as idle conversation. Even things I consider trivial might be someone else’s privacy. So, I think it’s best not to speak carelessly about others. It’s partly a local custom, partly my own nature.”

He meant every word.

“I see… You really are a complicated person.”

She seemed convinced.

After a pause, she asked, “When all this is over, will you talk about me with your friends?”

“What, tell them I spent the past few days saving the world with a blue-haired, regretful big sister from the Kingdom?”

“Drop the weird adjectives.”

Without much hesitation, Gongsun Ce answered, “I won’t. Talking about this with my friends isn’t my style—and besides…”

“Besides?”

“Some experiences are best kept in the heart. That’s how I see it.”

He heard laughter behind him as the hunter patted his shoulder. “Saying something so sentimental out loud—aren’t you a bit too naïve, Gongsun Ce!”

Naïve, indeed. Or perhaps, simply young at heart.

At moments like this, he was always reminded that, after all, he was still just a student.