The Intergalactic Meta-Mind Wars

In Haitang City, along a narrow and shadowy street, a young woman moved with hurried steps. She wore a white button-up shirt, the collar slightly open, paired with black fitted trousers and flat leather shoes. Her hair was loosely gathered into a ponytail that swayed behind her, revealing a neck as smooth and pale as jade. Just as she passed a utility pole at the roadside, she felt something catch her foot — and then came a sharp bark. Her heart lurched. She spun around to find a large black dog baring its teeth, launching itself straight at her.

"Ah!" she cried out in fright, instinctively stumbling back two steps. Her foot slipped, and she fell backwards. The dog lunged and missed — but twisted in an instant and clamped its jaws around her ankle. A scream tore from her throat. The bite had torn a wide gash, and blood ran freely. She cried out desperately for help. It was close to midnight; her screams rang unnervingly sharp through the dead silence of the street. No one answered. The more she struggled, the tighter the dog's grip became — as though it intended to grind through the bone of her leg before it would relent.

A fierce resolve flashed across her face. She raised her other foot and drove it hard into the dog's snout. The force was tremendous. The dog's nose caved inward, a jet of blood spraying from its nostrils. It let out a wretched howl and finally released her.

She seized the moment, staggered to her feet, and lurched forward. She rounded a corner and found herself in a narrow alley lit by a dim amber streetlamp that cast her silhouette against the ground. She stopped and looked back. The dog had not followed. She exhaled slowly.

She looked down at her ankle. Blood had soaked entirely through her shoe, and the pain was growing sharper by the second. Gritting her teeth, she pressed on with a hobbling gait until she reached the end of the road and stopped before a worn iron gate. She pushed it open, stepped inside, pulled it shut behind her, then leaned against the wall and slid slowly down to the floor.

The room was pitch dark. After a long moment, she gathered herself and fumbled for the light switch.

In the pale glow, the room revealed itself as a tired, sparse space — a worn wooden bed, a wardrobe, a table, and two chairs. Nothing more. On the bed lay a young girl of about ten, deep in sleep, her long lashes fluttering ever so slightly, her face peaceful and content.

The woman crossed quietly to the bedside, leaned down, and gently cupped the girl's soft cheek in her hand. "I'm sorry, Meiko. Mama came home late tonight…"

She was this little girl's mother — Michiko. Ten years ago, she had come to this city with her daughter, and to survive, she had taken a job as a primary school teacher. That evening, one of her students had been injured at school, and the matter had kept her until now.

She rose from the bedside, walked to the wardrobe in the corner, and retrieved a cardboard box from the top shelf. Inside were a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a pack of cotton swabs. She returned to the bed's edge, sat down, and peeled off her blood-soaked shoe. She rolled up her trouser leg, exposing the pale skin of her calf, then uncapped the bottle and began dabbing the wound carefully. The sting drew a sharp wince across her face, and a low moan escaped her lips.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Meiko had stirred without warning, rubbing drowsy eyes.

"It's nothing. Mama just tripped and fell. Go back to sleep." Michiko turned and gave the girl's shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat. Before long, the child drifted off again. Michiko finished cleaning the wound, wrapped it in gauze, then finally lay down and closed her exhausted eyes.

Deep in the night, a burning, restless heat overtook her body. Half-consciously, she reached up to pull at her clothes. Somewhere in the haze, it seemed as though someone was speaking to her — but the words were indistinct, unreachable. She tried to cry out and found she had no voice. When she finally came back to herself, she was in an unfamiliar room. A circle of strangers stood around her, talking over one another in urgent, overlapping voices. She tried to sit up — her body refused. Then she realized: she was lying on a pristine white bed, completely unclothed, her wrists and ankles bound, her mouth sealed with tape. She could not move at all.

Where is Meiko? The thought alone was enough to hollow out her chest. Tears slid quietly from the corners of her eyes.

Let us rewind — back to the morning of the day before.

When Meiko woke and found her mother injured, she searched the room for medicine. Finding none, she slipped out the door, intending to buy some at a pharmacy. She walked for a long while without finding one. Tired and hungry, she sat down at the side of the road to rest.

That was when a man approached. "Little girl, are you all right?"

Meiko looked up. He had a prominent row of protruding front teeth. "My mama is sick," she said.

"Come on, I'll take you to buy some medicine."

"I can't. Mama says I'm not allowed to go anywhere with strangers."

The man smiled. "Don't worry. I'm a good person. I won't trick you."

"Then I definitely can't go with you!"

"Why not?"

"Because — because your face looks exactly like a bad person's!" Meiko stood up to leave.

"Wait—" The man grabbed her wrist. "Think it over."

"Why are you grabbing me!" Meiko pulled hard, but his grip held fast. "Let go of me!" She was on the verge of tears.

At that moment, an indignant shout rang out: "How dare you, Buck-Toothed Villain, lay hands on a child! I, a brave and noble knight, shall not let this go unpunished!"

Before the words had fully landed, a small boy in full armor came charging forward, a spear gripped in both hands — barely more than a meter tall. He thrust the weapon at the man. The man had no time to dodge; the spear caught him in the thigh. He howled in pain, releasing Meiko's wrist and stumbling backwards. The small boy planted himself proudly where he stood.

"You're from the City-State?" the man said through clenched teeth, gripping his wound and scanning the surroundings warily. He knew that City-State children seldom ventured out alone — there were always adults nearby, and those were people he had no desire to cross.

"Ha! Of course! I am a knight of Hai City, sworn to fight for those who cannot protect themselves. This is my very first campaign beyond the walls, and already I've found a villain like you. Prepare to be defeated!" The boy charged again.

The man turned and fled. His injured leg slowed him. The boy's legs were short, and the spear slowed him further — he could only watch helplessly as the man disappeared. He trotted back to Meiko. "Miss, the villain has been driven off. Are you all right?"

"I'm not 'Miss.' I'm Meiko. And you?"

"My name is Masami. I am a knight."

"What is a knight?" Meiko asked.

"A knight is someone who protects the weak — someone like me." Masami straightened instinctively, his chest rising with the words.

"My mama is sick. Can you help me?"

"Of course. I'll take you to the City-State guards — they'll know what to do."

"Thank you, Masami," Meiko said with quiet sincerity.

The two made their way to a red-painted house. Masami knocked on the door. A middle-aged man answered. "Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Her mother is ill. She needs a doctor!" Masami said, gesturing to Meiko beside him.

"You'll need to bring the patient here. There's nothing we can do otherwise."

"I see!" Masami nodded. "Then we'll be on our way!" He turned to lead Meiko off — but had barely taken a few steps before a voice called after him. He turned to find a woman in her thirties staring at him. "Mama — how did you find me?" His face fell open with surprise.

"Masami, why have you run off again? Your father is waiting for us at the station — we'll miss the last train if we don't leave now!"

"But I'm in the middle of helping someone — I can't just—" He didn't finish the sentence. His mother had already taken his hand and was pulling him away.

Meiko stood where she was, bewildered, at a loss for what to do. After a long, still moment, she turned her feet toward home.

When she arrived, she found the front door hanging wide open. "Mama!" She called out and ran inside — but the room was empty.