"You can learn about us on our official website, young lady."

The woman in office dress faked a smile; Mika knew it. Had she had an Internet access at home, she wouldn't have come to the information counter of Metaslica Faculty of Science. The sparkling marble floor, desks, and pillars in the building, in addition to the strong-smelling perfume used by the wandering scholars and staffers, made her feel like a disheveled mutt amid a pack of well-cared poodles in a dog show.

The gossip about Metaslica University accepting mostly children of rich people in the state was true after all. It made Mika wonder if the entrance exam in this university was just for show. But what could she do? The mist had rendered Central Billion and the humble Billion State University unapproachable. If only there were more universities that would let her study Seed...

"I'm sure that everybody in the state has an Internet access," the woman added, "except those from the slum."

Mika's blood boiled, but she merely returned the fake smile. "Okay, I get it. Thanks." Hands in pockets, she walked away from the counter and towards the exit.

The passersby gave her a smug look, at which she bowed with her teeth gritted and her hands gripping the fabric within her pants pockets. An indigent from the slum she was, but hey, she had fought against Seed-infected people and survived. These cocky moneybags would need her whenever this alien drug business got out of hand.

Well, she did get a lot of help from Grave, her one-eyed undead guardian, but still.

Sunlight greeted Mika once she stepped out of the building. The lavenders in the flowerbeds swayed in the breeze from the town's windmills, their fragrance wafting into her nostrils.

Walking past the row of top model cars by the flowerbeds, she sighed. Okay, she understood why she shouldn't park here, but even in the motorcycle parking zone of the faculty, the parking attendant shooed her away as soon as he saw her. She rode a random motorbike that Grave stole from his enemies four years ago, not a pricey, branded one like a Harley Davidson.

So she ended up parking her vehicle at the roadside, across the faculty of snobs.

Mika approached the sidecar of her motorbike, grabbed the helmet from the passenger carrier and put it on. Heading to the main seat, she stared at the sidecar as though her younger self sat there. Ah, how much she missed the days when her guardian could still drive her around the town. Grave was dead to begin with, and the Seed alien in his body had been keeping him "alive" in exchange for his blood; should he fail to quench its thirst, it would reduce him to smithereens. Luckily, the alien would go dormant whenever he hibernated in their trailer.

"Was it fun to sleep whenever you have nothing to do, just because you can't do anything else without risking your body?" she wondered out loud, thrusting the key into the ignition hole and twisting it. The engine came to life with a roar. "Don't you want to live more freely and see how much the world has changed, Brandon?"

Soothing warmth streamed into her chest when she mentioned Grave's real name. She had never called him by that, had she? Now was the time to change, to show him that she doted on him as though he was her biological father. Perhaps someday, she'd call him "father" instead.

She hopped onto the trembling motorbike and headed home. Her skin tingled with coolness as the wind blew against her.

Engines droned across the streets. The air was gray with the exhaust gas from the nearby vehicles, yet Mika sensed only the faint stench of burned oil. Perhaps years of direct exposure to the fumes had dulled her senses a bit.

Mika came across a crossroad and halted before the red traffic lights. During the wait, she looked around out of boredom. An electronic shop lay on her left side, their flat-screen TVs displaying the news channel. The headline said "The Windmills at South City Had Been Destroyed" before shifting to "A Dragon Was Seen Flying from South City to Central Billion."

Beeeeep!

Mika jumped a bit at the loud honk before shifting her gaze to the traffic lights. Green. Time to go. Full speed, because she needed to catch up with the news about the dragon.

It was already 10AM when Mika arrived at the slum. She could find no car there; instead, there were only some motorbikes or bicycles. People in rags roamed the broken pavement, a few of them stopping by the hawker stalls to buy fried cassavas and corn dogs.

Mika steered her motorbike towards her home - a two-story building with brownish, peeling wall paint. It stood at the westernmost region of the slum, a few houses away from the straightforward path to the highlands of Billion. This area lacked windmills unlike the other sides of the slum, but Mika rarely felt hot here thanks to the mountain breeze.

Mika shut down her motorbike and hopped off. After unlocking and opening the double door, she pushed the vehicle into her house, right beside a trailer.

Ethereal claws planted themselves into Mika's heart as she took off her helmet and looked at the massive metallic truck. It was as though one of the doors leading to Brandon's hibernation chamber was open, with Mika hooking her hands on its top to do pull-ups under the Brandon's supervision. Tears welled in her eyes when she remembered her days as a puny newbie; whenever her hurting hands made her slip and fall, Brandon would catch her.

I'll find a way to enter Metaslica Faculty of Science! She placed the helmet on the sidecar and sprinted towards the open door. I'll study hard so that you can be free!

Upon closing and locking the door, she hurried to the second floor and switched on the ceiling lamp of the living room. Like a kid who was afraid of missing her favorite show, Mika rushed to turn on the retro TV and sit on the ripped couch.

The man in the TV - as stated in the headline - was David Rossi, the dean of Metaslica Faculty of Science. Mika let out a quick "huh" as she wondered what he and the pompous faculty had to do with the whole mess in the state.

"We will reward the one who brings the dragon to us, dead or alive," he said. "Hopefully, this specimen will bring us closer to the truth behind the mist and Central Billion."

Mika smiled broadly at the speech. Just exactly what she needed!

But wait. The dragon was seen at South City, and the windmills there were all gone. If it were the one who destroyed those colossal mills, just how big and strong was it?

The scene in the TV shifted to the news presenter, who ended the broadcast with, "That's all for now. We'll be back with sports after a few ads."

After switching off the TV and the ceiling lamp, Mika walked down the stairs and approached the trailer with a frown. A human girl against a humongous dragon? Very funny.

If I die, Brandon can never be free from that leech.

Mika opened the door to the driver's cockpit and the glove compartment in it. A .357 caliber pistol and a belt holster rested there, the words "Puppy Fang" embossed on the weapon's grip. The big red cross carved on its barrel reminded Mika of the design of Brandon's .59 caliber pistols Cerberus. Nobody knew who created the weapon and left it there, but judging from its design and name, she'd guess that one of her deceased scientist friends had crafted it for her.

After picking up the gun, holstering it, and putting on the belt holster, she looked at the crimson lever beside the steering wheel and shook her head. Her heart ached as her free hand went to pull it down. "Brandon," she said, retreating from the cockpit and closing the door, "I need your help again."

She stood still and counted until thirty.

The doors leading to Brandon's hibernation chamber flung open with a thud. White vapor poured out of the truck, and a set of slow, heavy footsteps echoed. With a tearful smile, Mika strode towards the source of the noise.

There her guardian Brandon stood, his wild black mane fluttering in the air. Over seven feet tall with the physique of a professional bodybuilder, his mere appearance cast an invisible, impenetrable barrier around Mika that warmed her up as well.

But could he last until the end of the hunt? He couldn't possibly get any transfusion during this quest.

"Brandon," she called out, giving him a hug. The coldness from his leather jacket permeated through hers and into her skin. "I..."

Brandon returned the embrace, prompting her to look up. That gentle smile of his pretty much told her that everything would be okay.

Funny how he didn't even question why she called him "Brandon" instead of "Grave."

"Thank you," she muttered.

Suddenly, her ears registered distressed screams. Then someone rapped on the doors.

"The windmills are destroyed! Run for your lives!"