Three days ter.

  NyeRonpin stepped back into NyeDepin's courtyard.

  NyeDepin was rubbing his neck, sore from grinding World of Warcraft for five hours st night. When he saw his brother show up, he called out to a fancy gold-and-color altar in the middle of the yard:

  "Come on out, meet the old director of the National Radio and Television Administration—he's the one who gave you your will."

  A humanoid figure, shimmering with golden light, rose from the altar. They had starry eyes and sharp, sword-like brows, radiating righteousness. Their gaze burned bright, and they carried a giant sword on their back. Cd in a sleek bck Mao suit, a gold-pted pen was clipped to their chest pocket.

  NyeRonpin gawked at her. Even the loose Mao suit couldn't hide her full chest, and her face—four parts fierce, six parts gorgeous—hit him like a truck. His head spun, the world tilted, and he nearly facepnted.

  "How… how's it a girl?! And… and a teenage one at that!"

  "These days, isn't it all the rage to design 'em as pretty girls? I tweaked her—mixed in some of my Taoist magic and cranked up the cute factor!"

  NyeDepin rushed to prop up the trembling, wobbly NyeRonpin, expining with a guilty edge, "But don't worry, she's definitely the real deal—pure National Radio and Television Administration will and belief. I can't fake that."

  NyeDepin barked an order at the glowing girl, "Quick, show the old director some sword moves!"

  The girl nodded, yanking the giant, heavy sword off her back. She sshed through a flurry of moves like a freaking tornado, her voice ringing out strong and clear as she chanted:

  "To ask why we fight... is to ask why the leaves fall.

  "It is in their nature.

  "Perhaps, there is a better question.

  "Why do we fight?

  "To protect Home, and Family...

  "To preserve Bance, and bring Harmony.

  "For my kind, the true question is:

  "What is worth fighting for?"

  The poem ended, the sword dance wrapped up, and the girl sheathed her bde, standing tall and righteous atop the altar.

  "This poem? Did she write it herself?" NyeRonpin eyed the girl, tossing the question at NyeDepin.

  "Uh… yeah, it's her will bubbling up—came straight from her soul!" NyeDepin, worried about his brother's health, blurted out some quick bullshit.

  "Huh, not bad then." NyeRonpin, still leaning on his brother, softened his shocked stare.

  He gazed at the short-haired girl with her badass stance, liking her more by the second. He could feel it radiating off her—that hardcore vibe that wouldn't let a shred of sleaze or crooked crap slide.

  He could tell—this girl was legit the National Radio and Television Administration's will in the flesh!

  NyeDepin chimed in, "She's got three godly weapons, all forged straight from the Bronze Seal's will on her own."

  The girl hoisted the giant sword off her back as NyeDepin expined, "This giant sword's called 'Delete.' That gold-pted pen on her chest? It's 'Modify.' And she's got a Bronze Seal too, named 'Ban'!"

  The once clear, crisp sky suddenly churned with dark clouds, golden light fshing as thunder roared.

  Then a gaping hole ripped open in the dark clouds, and a staircase—like it was carved from blue crystal—dropped down from it. The steps glowed clear and bright, stretching straight from the misty sky to the altar on the ground.

  Peering up into the hole, you could faintly make out a chunk of old-school European farmnd and cottages.

  The short-haired girl, pen clipped to her chest and sword slung over her shoulder, turned and marched up the stairs toward the opening.

  "Where's she headed? Is she strong enough for this?" NyeRonpin asked, sounding like a dad watching his daughter head off to a new city alone, a flicker of worry creeping into his gut.

  "She's off to fix up those fantasy worlds that screw with morals and human decency. Don't sweat it—sure, she won't be the top dog in someone else's turf, but she's the living, breathing will and belief of decades of the National Radio and Television Administration. She'll be one of the strongest… at least. Let me check,"

  NyeDepin shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting at the hole in the swirling clouds, "She's headed to a world where the main guy's called… Ainz Ooal Gown."

  "Nice." NyeRonpin watched the girl charge up the glowing blue steps without hesitation, and it was like he could see the old National Radio and Television Administration crew again—directors and staff, shrugging off the world's trash talk as they banned and censored every twisted freak in their path.

  He shoved NyeDepin's supporting arm away, cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and hollered up at the badass girl on the midair steps, "Go for it! Sm our will across the freaking universe!"

  The girl spun around, snapped to attention, heels clicking together, and raised her right hand—fingers tight—to her brow in a crisp salute. "I guarantee to complete the task!"