Author Note: Hey guys! I have some good news. My semester is over and I am in the summer...right now I don't entirely have a summer job ready. However, I am not that sad about it. I want to take a bit to focus on me and my writing. School sucked this year, lost friends, and it was a struggle blending school job, classes, and jobs, and my writing. Both professional and Fanfic. I have been pretty stressed...so I want to take some time on focusing on writing my fics. Witch is almost halfway done, and my other fic Avatar the Last Airbender: Jedi Outcast is on book 3 now. Long running projects, and I want to take a break from the not so fun writing...and to write this summer these fics. Hopefully, we may be able to get a good chunk into the story or maybe even finish it before school/summer ends. Still, thanks everyone for following, favoriting, reviewing, and commenting. It greatly warms my heart to know how much people are involved within the story. I am a bit tired, so response to reviews will come next chap, I broke my personal rule of dropping over 6k chapters, this one is over 8k in length. I hope you guys enjoy!

PS: The Shipping Vote is still going on.

Chapter 34 -

Aiden

Aiden's hands were tucked into his pockets as Delling led him to a balcony overlooking the party. Below, people danced to the music, their movements carefree and joyful. Aiden watched as Delling leered at the crowd, his expression unreadable.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Delling asked, his tone neutral.

"It's alright," Aiden replied simply.

Delling continued to stare at the crowd. "My daughter, Miorine. It seems like you've come to know her..."

Aiden shrugged. "Better than the absentee father," he retorted, a cocky edge to his voice.

Delling showed no reaction to the jab. Instead, he asked, "Do you have any idea why I started the dueling games?"

Aiden's eyes widened as Delling turned to face him.

"I am a military man," Delling began. "I haven't made it this far wielding the greatest corporation known to humanity without learning how to read people."

Aiden nodded slowly, his curiosity piqued.

"Miorine needs someone strong," Delling continued. "I thought there would be worthy people here. That boy, Guel Jetturk... I wasn't honestly a fan of him, but he was strong. I thought he would be able to protect her."

Aiden's eyes widened further. "Wait... you're marrying off your daughter to someone strong, for what?"

Delling kept his gaze fixed on the dancing crowd as he spoke. "I lost Miorine's mother when she was very young. The effect it had on me... Miorine's mother, if it ever came down to it... she needed someone strong. Someone powerful enough, someone who could fight and defeat all her enemies."

Aiden's hands slipped out of his pockets as the earlier anger at Delling transformed into frustrated confusion. "What the fuck does Miorine's mother have to do with this?" he demanded.

Delling paused, turning to meet Aiden's eyes.

Then it hit Aiden. He shook his head wildly as frustration boiled over. "You can't be serious," he bluntly stated.

Delling didn't speak. Aiden continued, his voice rising with each word.

"No fucking way," Aiden said, his tone laced with disbelief. "That's why you're selling your daughter away? Your only child? Because you think Miorine isn't strong enough to protect herself?"

Delling remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Aiden glared at him, anger boiling over. "World record for biggest piece of shit father."

Delling sneered, finally breaking his silence. "I've raised Miorine in some of the greatest institutions, given her everything and more, and she still doesn't—"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Aiden cut him off curtly. "This is your daughter, your only child. You're arranging a marriage for her. Before I came around, it was Guel, and he was a real piece of work."

Aiden wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain his frustration. "Miorine can take care of herself." He paused, eyeing Delling. "Do you remember your wife's greenhouse?"

Delling remained silent, and Aiden's aggravation grew. "Guel pushed your daughter—his fiancée—to the fucking floor. Then he started breaking all of Miorine's flowers, some that even came from your wife!" Aiden shouted.

His breath was shaky, but he could see the change in Delling's features. Shock outlined the older man's eyes as his hand ran through his greying hair. "Miorine never told me about that," he stated quietly.

Aiden snorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Can you blame her?" he said bluntly. "Miorine is hard to like and can be annoying at times, but I can't fault her for that. She works so hard, and that prick Guel would've never appreciated her. His actions betrayed your whole goal!"

Delling looked aghast. Aiden pressed on. "The one who was supposed to protect her was going to hurt her. That was the life you were consigning Miorine to, handing the greatest corporation in the solar system to that prick Guel and his asshole family and company."

Delling was silent for a moment, the weight of Aiden's words sinking in. "I didn't know Guel was like that," he finally admitted, his voice heavy. "I've known Vim—Guel and Lauda's father—ever since he was a young man. The Benrett Group was founded alongside their father. I met Guel when he was a child, saw him as a teenager, and as a young man. When Vim brought up the idea of bringing them together, or at least trying for the games, I thought Miorine would have someone strong and wealthy, but also someone that was family in a way… someone she could trust."

Aiden shook his head, his anger slowly giving way to a grim understanding. "You thought wrong," he said softly. "Miorine deserves better than being a pawn in your games. She deserves someone who sees her for who she is, not just as a means to an end."

Delling stared out at the crowd below, the weight of his decisions settling heavily on his shoulders. For the first time, he seemed to grasp the enormity of what he had done, and what he had almost condemned his daughter to.

Aiden was silent at that, rubbing the back of his head, unsure of what to say. "That's still no excuse," he finally pushed forward, feeling the necessity of the words.

Delling nodded, a slow, reluctant acknowledgment. "You're right... I should've picked up on it when she kept on running away. Shaddiq or Ceres, maybe they would've been..."

"You're really just missing the point," Aiden interjected sharply. "Stop trying to sell your daughter."

Delling shot Aiden a piercing look. "...Or maybe you're my answer," he stated flatly.

Aiden understood what he meant, and when he did, he bared his teeth like fangs. "The holder is meant to marry Miorine on her eighteenth birthday," Aiden said. "That's only a couple of months away. Then, whoever holds Miorine..."

"They hold the solar system," Delling interrupted.

Aiden stared at him, wrapping his arms around himself, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. He wanted to drink more, hang out with his friends, find Suletta, kiss her some more, and maybe have her grind on him again. He didn't want to speak to Miorine's old, weird father.

Delling continued, "I see the way you act with my daughter, Winters. You may be of Harmony stock, but might makes right, and you've shown everyone how unbounded your strength is."

"What?" Aiden bluntly stated. "The hell are you..."

Delling pressed on. "Us military men understand... you've been through hell young, and you came out stronger. But the memories don't leave, do they?"

Aiden's visage darkened. "It's the dreams that bother me the most," he admitted, then his features twisted into a sneer. "I am just here for pilot certification and a degree in making and producing music. I never intended to get involved in this fight... Guel and you lot dragged me in."

"...And do you have any regrets?" Delling questioned. "You worked your way to the top. And in a couple of months, it could all be yours."

Aiden's eyes bore into Delling's, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He didn't like where this was heading, didn't like the implications of Delling's words. The old man was talking about power, about control, and it was clear that he saw Aiden as a means to an end. But Aiden wasn't sure if he wanted any part of it.

Aiden wanted to curse, to lash out with a cutting remark about Delling's daughter running away, but he held back. Miorine still planned to escape to Earth, and he wouldn't let his own pride betray her secret.

"Is there anything else you need, Headmaster?" Aiden asked, his voice steady. "Because I have a speech to deliver very soon."

Delling's gaze was intense. "We're alike."

Aiden snickered, turning away as his footsteps echoed off the balcony. "Alright, old man, take your Xanax," he muttered, continuing his walk.

Delling's voice rattled on, persistent and haunting. "See how you like it... after losing the woman you love and being forced to raise a daughter all alone."

Aiden kept walking, the words gnawing at him, but he refused to turn back. "It's obvious you do not care for this holder position. So, someone will come along."

That made Aiden pause. He turned around and stared up at the old man from the bottom of the stairs. "Let's see then. Who's strong enough to truly beat me?"

The challenge hung in the air, thick with tension. Aiden's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. The sounds of the party below seemed distant, the music and laughter a world away from the charged confrontation on the balcony. He felt the weight of Delling's expectations, the old man's words like a vice tightening around his chest. The idea of being manipulated into a role he never wanted, a life he never sought, was suffocating.

Delling's face remained impassive, but there was a glint in his eyes, a flicker of something that might have been respect or calculation. "We shall see," he said quietly. "The strongest will prevail."

Aiden turned away once more, his mind racing. He had to deliver his speech, had to put on the facade of the confident holder, but the conversation with Delling left a bitter taste in his mouth. As he made his way back to the party, he couldn't shake the feeling that the old man was right about one thing—they were alike in ways Aiden wished they weren't. And that realization was more unsettling than he cared to admit.

Suletta

Suletta had bumped into someone as she pushed her way through the crowd, her heart racing with anticipation for Aiden's speech. "Sorry," she apologized to the person whose foot she had stepped on.

Oscar was by her side, along with Deacon and Nika, but Miorine was nowhere to be seen.

"It's alright," the man replied, turning around.

Oscar was the first to recognize him—the mop of blond hair and the distinctive earrings were unmistakable, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that set him apart from the man they once knew. Suletta's mouth hung open in shock as she recognized Elan Ceres.

"Mr. Elan?" she questioned, her voice barely more than a whisper.

For a moment, there was genuine surprise on the man's face. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked, his tone polite but detached.

Confusion and anxiety rippled through their group, but it was Oscar and Deacon who recovered first, exchanging a wary glance. This Elan—or whatever he was—smiled warmly, but there was a chilling coldness in his demeanor, a predatory edge that set Suletta on edge.

"Hello," he leered, his gaze sliding over Suletta like a cold blade. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting, but my, what a specimen you are."

Suletta felt a shiver run down her spine. The man's smile was all wrong, too polished, too perfect. She took a step back, instinctively moving closer to Oscar and Deacon. The crowd around them seemed to fade into a distant blur as the tension mounted, the air thick with unspoken questions.

He took her by the hand, an action as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Suletta froze, feeling a cold surge of revulsion as he raised her hand to his lips. The touch was electric, not in a pleasant way, but like a jolt of static that made her skin crawl. With a swift motion, she wrenched her hand free, clutching it to her chest as if it had been burned.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice trembling but resolute. "D-did anyone ever tell you not to touch anyone without their permission?" she demanded angrily.

Elan began to respond, but Deacon was already moving. He inserted himself between Suletta and Elan with a speed that spoke of long-honed reflexes.

"Ah, Deacon," Elan remarked, his tone smooth but lacking the melancholic air that once defined him. This Elan was different—colder, more calculated. "I read about you in your file and..."

"I don't care who the fuck you are," Deacon interrupted, his voice a low growl. The group went still, the air around them thick with tension. Deacon towered over the still-smiling Elan, his eyes burning with contempt. "You ever touch Suletta or anyone that runs with us again... we'll break your fingers."

Elan chuckled, a hollow sound that echoed ominously.

Nika watched, aghast at the confrontation, while Suletta's mind raced with the thought of what Aiden might have done if he were there. She imagined Elan sprawled on the floor, unconscious or worse.

"I thought you learned from the last time," Deacon stated curtly.

Elan's expression shifted, arrogance and pride etching themselves into his features. "The last one failed, but I don't intend to follow my predecessor's mistakes," he retorted.

"Oh really now," Deacon replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't give two shits about what you are. Clone, body double, or some weird face-swapping shit you and Peil Technology are into—it's absolutely disgusting. You and your corpo freaks stay away from us."

Elan opened his mouth to speak, but Deacon cut him off. "You really think you and your dead world friends are going to be able to...," he began, only to have Deacon's glare silence him.

Deacon's eyes narrowed to slits. "Keep talking, and I'll let Aiden know. Heck, I've even seen Shaddiq around. Maybe we can turn this party into an old-fashioned duel."

Elan's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered his options. Deacon continued, his voice a venomous whisper. "I guarantee you, abomination," he spat, his face inches from Elan's. "The death the last Ceres had... Winters will make it look like a mercy."

Elan stood silent for a moment, his eyes hardening. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Deacon and the rest watched him go, the tension slowly ebbing from their bodies.

"D-Deacon...," Suletta stuttered, her voice shaky and uncertain.

Deacon sighed and turned to face her and the others, his expression softening. "Sorry he touched you like that, Suletta," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Suletta shook her head and managed a small smile. "He was forceful, but I knew that you and Oscar would help me out."

Oscar clapped her on the shoulder, his enthusiasm breaking through the tension. "That was mighty good, standing up for yourself!" he cheered. "The old Suletta would've—"

"Don't say that," Nika interjected, waving him off.

Oscar yelped and quickly backtracked. "Oh, I didn't mean anything bad by it," he explained. "It's just that Suletta has changed, and it's been positive."

Nika nodded, her eyes warm with affection. "Keep moving forward, that's what Suletta lives by." She offered Suletta a warm smile, and Suletta's eyes glistened with emotion. "She's always been ready to defend herself and fight."

As these words hung in the air, the lights in the venue began to dim. The crowd, including Elan, Miorine, Cecilia, Delling, and the rest, either took their seats or gathered on the upper levels. The atmosphere grew anticipatory.

Aiden then emerged from behind the red velvet curtains, their plush folds brushing against the black of his suit. Suletta's smile widened as he took center stage. Aiden inhaled deeply, his eyes sweeping over the crowd, taking in the sea of faces illuminated by the warm lights. Despite the anxiety gnawing at him, he found solace in Suletta's proud smile.

He leveled his breath, ready to begin, when a strange voice interrupted him. "Hold on for a brief moment."

Aiden turned his head towards the source of the voice, a woman whose presence was as peculiar as her ensemble. He quickly realized he was surrounded by three women of varying sizes and shapes, all clad in similar uniforms. His eyes narrowed as he read the word stitched onto their suit jackets. "Peil," he murmured.

The tallest of the trio stepped forward. She had short-cropped blonde hair, blue-tinted lips, and eyes of an equally chilling blue that seemed to bore into him without blinking. Her smirking gaze met his glare head-on, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air between them.

"Can I help you with something?" The Holder of Attisticca announced loudly, his voice echoing through the suddenly tense hall. He wrapped his arms around himself and glared at the three women who had intruded onto the stage. "I have a speech to deliver, and you three nuts just climb onto the stage?" His eyes flicked to where Delling Rembran sat, observing the spectacle with an impassive expression. "Could someone like… call security or something?"

The taller woman stepped forward, urgency etched into her stern features. "I believe it is of the utmost importance to discuss Peil's findings regarding the last duel…"

The lights snapped on, transforming the once beautiful, fun award show into something far more sinister. Shadows loomed larger, the atmosphere heavy with tension.

Nika's eyes darted toward Deacon, her fingers nervously rolling along his hand. "What are you thinking?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Deacon's gaze was fixed on the stage, where the three women stood like sentinels. "They're Peil," he said bluntly, a scowl forming on his face.

Oscar scoffed. "So, is security going to go up there, or are we going to have to deal with it?"

Suletta's eyes widened in alarm. "Oscar, you're a man, and they're women. You can't just hit girls like that."

Oscar snorted. "I ain't hitting girls. I'm going to tackle three old white bitches," he said with a shrug. "There's a difference. Heck, they even started it."

Deacon rolled his eyes. "Oscar, these women are the CEOs of Peil," he said, his tone heavy with exasperation. His fingers slipped out of Nika's hand, and she turned away, a look of annoyance crossing her features.

Deacon sighed. "Let's let the situation play out…," he paused and glanced at Oscar. "But don't get too comfortable. I give the signal, you know what to do."

Oscar laughed, a harsh, forced sound.

"W-what signal?" Suletta anxiously whispered into Nika's ear.

Nika could only sigh and shake her head, her expression mirroring the tension in the room.

Aiden stood on stage, his hands slipping into his suit pockets as he stared down the three women addressing the crowd. Despite his outward composure, he felt a flicker of anxiety beam through his core.

The tall Peil CEO began, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "Remember, that the Aerial Unit was confiscated due to suspicions of it being a Gundam?" She paused, and the screen behind her flickered to life, casting an eerie glow over the assembly.

The room was plunged into silence as they were enveloped in the footage of Aiden Winters battling within his modified custom titan against Elan Ceres in his cursed Gundam. Each member of the audience watched with bated breath, even Suletta, her eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle.

She witnessed Elan's beams carving dashes along Aiden's titan, only for Aiden to whirl around and ignite his beam saber, the crowd gasping as he cleaved a cut across Elan's cockpit that would have proved fatal if it had been a bit deeper.

The fat and short Peil CEO finally spoke, her voice cutting through the tension. "During this duel… Aiden Winters in his Titan went toe to toe with our newest mech… The Gundam Pharact."

A hush fell over the room, broken only by the murmurs of disbelief. "A gundam?" someone spoke through the crowd. "Gundam, they made a gundam?" another whispered.

Delling rose, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the three CEOs. "So, is this a confession?" His words were steel and iron as the three women glanced at him. Delling stared them down. "You're still smiling… do you have the faintest idea of how much trouble you are in?"

The skinny CEO laughed. "We take full responsibility for the events that have happened. We will work alongside the Benrett Group, provide all research, and full transparency… And within this transparency, we have made a discovery."

The screen shifted, showing another duel, older this time. "J-Jackie," Cecila gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw Jack's titan slam headfirst into Guel's purple-repaired Dilenza. This was their older battle, and…

"Aerial," Suletta breathed as she watched herself dart and dash along the ruined city landscape. Missiles and false lasers trailed after her as her funnels launched forth, filling the approaching enemy mech with green holes.

"That's my girl," Aiden's voice rang out a bit too loudly, filled with pride as he leered at her. Oscar rolled his eyes as Suletta's cheeks reddened and she cupped her own face. Aiden pointed towards her. "That's the pilot you're showing… the beautiful girl in the red dress."

The fat CEO chuckled loudly at that. The screen paused with the Aerial on screen as she raised her hand to point. Two differing graphs were displayed. "These are the scans of both battles… Of course, the Titans and Jetturk Heavy Industries did not have any traces of the Gund Format, except," she paused, turning to the second graph. "The one on the left is the aerial… The other is the Pharact. Both duels that were recorded show the same thing."

The words reverberated through the hall, each syllable echoing off the walls as the fat CEO's proclamation cut through the air. Deacon positioned himself next to Suletta, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of determination and concern.

"Oscar," Deacon commanded, his voice low but urgent. "Get ready to grab Suletta and make a quick getaway…"

Oscar, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded silently, his jaw clenched tight.

"The Aerial Unit… is a Gundam!" The CEO's voice thundered, the declaration hanging heavy in the air. There was a moment of stunned silence before she continued, her tone grave and resolute.

"We reveal this information so the Benrett Group can do what is necessary," she declared, her voice carrying an edge of urgency. "These cursed machines must not be allowed to walk…"

"We will destroy the Pharact… but we also ask the same for the Aerial as well," added the skinny CEO, her words dripping with conviction.

Deacon felt his frustration boiling beneath the surface. "So, that's what this is all about," he muttered through gritted teeth, shooting a glare at the trio. "You lot can't just leave us alone."

His eyes darted around the room, searching for Ceres, but the elusive figure was nowhere to be found. Then, unexpectedly, a voice cut through the tension, drawing everyone's attention.

"Oh really," spoke Aiden, his voice firm and unwavering. "I dealt with Guel before to protect the Aerial from being destroyed. We dueled for it."

He turned to face Delling Rembran, his gaze unyielding. "A deal was a deal," he declared, his words echoing with conviction. "I won… and the Aerial was allowed to stay."

The fat CEO sneered, her eyes narrowing as she processed Aiden's revelation. "This newfound information must be taken into consideration," she declared, her tone laced with skepticism. "This is definite proof of the fact that we have allowed such machines into the academy."

Delling remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the trio of women before him. Then, unexpectedly, his attention shifted, landing squarely on Aiden. The next words that left his lips sent shockwaves through the crowd, catching even Aiden off guard.

"All I see," Delling proclaimed, his voice unwavering, "is that you risked the life of my son-in-law… in a duel to the death."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Delling's words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the proceedings. Even the Peil CEOs appeared taken aback by his unexpected accusation. But Delling, his resolve unshaken, continued to speak, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You know the dangers of the Gundam, but I guess there is a silver lining," he remarked, his tone laced with bitterness.

"A silver lining?" one of the skinny women interjected, her gaze shifting nervously between her companions. Clearly, this turn of events had not aligned with their intended plans or expectations.

"That your meager machine, dubbed a Gundam, was bested by a product of a dead world," she continued, her words dripping with disdain. "Perhaps the permit reads true, but either the machine was so woefully inadequate that it lost to a Titan, or Winter's skill in battle spoke volumes."

Aiden remained silent, his thoughts swirling in a tumultuous sea. Once at odds with Delling, he now found himself defending the old man. Yet, as he glanced towards Delling, a flicker of suspicion ignited in his eyes. This felt like favoritism, plain and simple.

"You will take full responsibility and more... likewise," Delling declared, his gaze locking with Aiden's. "If the Aerial is utilizing Gund-Format Technology, it must be destroyed."

Suletta watched in disbelief, her eyes darting between the two men. Aiden, consumed by a palpable fury, stepped forward and seized the microphone, its frequency echoing through the room.

"DELLING REMBRAN!" Aiden's voice reverberated, commanding the attention of all present. "Your daughter, you, and Guel Jetturk arranged a deal for the Aerial not to be destroyed if I won... I won. A deal is a deal, Gundam, mech, Titan, or not."

Silence descended upon the room as Aiden's words hung heavy in the air. "No," Delling stated bluntly. "A Gundam is a..."

"Then we'll duel for it," Aiden declared, his tone resolute, sparking a hushed murmur among the crowd.

Deacon's eyes blazed with intensity as he watched from the sidelines, his mind racing with concern. "Aiden, you can't play this hand right now," he cautioned.

"Aiden, he needs to control himself," Nika chimed in, her voice laced with worry.

But Deacon shook his head, his gaze fixed on the unfolding confrontation. "No, there is something far more going on here," he asserted. "Winters and Rembran... I don't know why, but I just feel like Winters is stepping into something he shouldn't."

Delling raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "You wish to duel?" he inquired.

Aiden scoffed, his defiance unwavering. "Weren't you telling me that we were both military men? I imagine you know your way around a mobile suit," he retorted.

It was Delling's turn to snort. "Far more than you can imagine, boy," he replied with a hint of smugness.

Aiden's lips curved into a tight smile, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Then, we'll settle the Aerial discussion once again… me and you. We're alike, and men like us… we can only understand one thing."

For the first time in possibly years, Delling Rembran bore a close-mouthed smirk. "Your terms?" he stated, prompting murmurs to ripple through the crowd.

"The president is going to duel the holder?" a voice rose from the gathering, followed by another questioning if such an event was even permitted.

Shaddiq and Cecila observed from the corner, their eyes widened with amusement. "Man, say what you will about Winters…but Guel was never this entertaining when he was holder," Shaddiq chuckled.

"Guel was a brute," Cecila remarked with a shrug. "Aiden does music, right?" she inquired.

Shaddiq nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember Deacon bringing it up to me before. Why?"

Cecila chuckled softly. "Those damned art majors… always the dramatic ones."

Amidst the murmurs, Delling Rembran found himself whirling with these unexpected developments. His gaze wandered towards Aiden. "I guess I finally did find someone strong enough to protect Miorine."

However, before the situation could escalate further, steps echoed through the hall, instantly silencing the crowd. All eyes turned towards the figure making her way forward, parting the throng like a solitary ship through troubled waters.

"M-Miorine?" Suletta questioned, her surprise evident as she watched Miorine ascend the steps. The blue fabric of her dress trailed behind her like a regal train, her black shoes tapping softly against the floor, and her once-constrained gray hair now flowed freely. But what truly caught Suletta off guard was the cold demeanor emanating from Miorine.

Miorine approached Aiden, her presence commanding attention.

"Miorine?" Aiden questioned, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Then, with a swift motion, Miorine's open palm connected with Aiden's cheek in a resounding slap. Aiden staggered back, stunned by the sudden blow. Though he'd weathered his fair share of hits, this one caught him off guard, leaving him momentarily seeing stars. Miorine's actions...

Aiden's hand gingerly cupped his reddening cheek, his gaze meeting Miorine's with a mixture of surprise and confusion. But there was something else there, a cold melancholy that seemed to hover around her like a shroud. "That's enough," she stated, her voice cutting through the tension in the room, her gaze shifting between Aiden and her father. "From both of you."

Delling remained silent as Aiden nursed his stinging cheek, his expression unreadable. "You both really are the same… two men who think that might makes right," Miorine declared, her tone laced with blunt honesty. "The hypocrisy. You both believe that fighting is always the answer to everything."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air as the room fell into a stunned silence. The three Peil CEOs stood frozen in place, their plans unraveling before their eyes. What had started as a simple admission by Peil about their manufactured Gundam had spiraled into chaos, fueled by Aiden's intervention and the ensuing challenge between him and the Headmaster.

Prospera observed the unfolding chaos beside Goday, a mixture of fascination and concern etched on her features. "Aiden Winters, you truly are a magnet for chaos. Everyone fears Delling Rembran… except you. That is why I chose you, why Ericht chose you."

Taking the microphone from Aiden with a resigned sigh, Miorine addressed the room. "Is everyone really going to believe everything Peil is saying without question or concern?"

The fat CEO laughed derisively. "The graphs don't lie. Test them yourselves and you'll—"

Miorine's glare silenced her midsentence. "Peil and Jetturk have countless reasons to target the Aerial and The Sons of Harmony. This is nothing more than slander they're using to discredit us."

"Why would they try to discredit the machine?" interjected an older man in a wheelchair, hooked up to various machines. Miorine recognized him as Shaddiq's father, Sarius Zenelli.

Without hesitation, Miorine responded, her voice steady. "Simply because the Aerial is a far stronger machine. It has faced off against state-of-the-art mechs and custom ace pilots. Peil's false Gundam lost to a titan. They'll do anything to undermine the Aerial."

"Preposterous!" the taller CEO retorted.

But Miorine pressed on, undeterred. "If you truly cared, you would have presented your findings to my father. Instead, you interrupted my fiancé's award speech to slander one of our dear friends."

Suletta's heart warmed at Miorine's mention of "dear friends," but beneath the surface, annoyance simmered. "Fiancé," she thought, "I don't like that word… not for my Aiden."

Miorine pressed on. "Likewise, look at the battles!" she declared, gesturing to the frozen image of the Aerial on the screen. "Suletta is fine, she has not been afflicted by the Gundam Curse. Elan Ceres, however, wasn't."

The three CEOs widened their eyes as Miorine fixed them with a glare. "You can see the difference between the Gundam Pharact piloted by Elan Ceres and the Aerial unit. Suletta has not died, but Elan Ceres has."

"Elan is fine," one of the taller CEOs interjected.

The shorter CEO nodded toward the crowd. "He's right there, fit as a fiddle."

Miorine sneered and directed her attention to the crowd. "Oscar, I need you," she stated.

Oscar's surprise was evident, but he quickly scanned the faces around him before awkwardly climbing onto the stage toward Miorine and Aiden. Miorine retrieved a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to him.

"What is this?" Oscar asked, eyeing the red drive.

"Connect it to the broadcasting computer and make sure to click the file labeled 'E.V.A – Pharact Cockpit live footage,'" Miorine instructed.

Oscar's eyes widened. "Miorine, we…" he began.

Miorine shook her head. "It's either this or we let the Aerial get destroyed and discredited," she stated firmly. "I prefer this option."

With a resigned sigh, Oscar made his way to the corner of the stage, inserting the drive into the computer and navigating to the correct files. The screen flickered to life, revealing Elan Ceres in the cockpit of the Pharact during the duel with Aiden.

There was a collective gasp as the image showed Elan, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his brow. The lines of stress etched across his face as he struggled to calm himself, but tranquility eluded him.

Miorine's voice cut through the tension like a knife, her finger jabbing at the screen. "Look!" she exclaimed. "That is the true curse of a Gundam. Suletta has climbed into the Aerial a number of times for both training and battle, and we have never seen such things."

As the video played on, a collective gasp swept through the room. Even Cecila, usually composed, found herself covering her mouth in shock. The figure of Elan in the video turned toward the cockpit view, his face etched with terror. Aiden watched, transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away. He couldn't know what Elan experienced in that cockpit, but now, it was laid bare before him.

Tired, scared, and utterly exhausted, Elan looked as though he'd been through hell. Then, Aiden's voice boomed from the speakers as his titan descended with the beam sword. "For creed!" he shouted, and horror washed over the audience as Elan screamed, consumed by flames until nothing remained but ash.

As the video ended and faded away, the room was filled with astonishment, shock, and even the sound of quiet whimpering. Yet, Miorine pressed on. "Peil has its own secrets," she declared. "You all witnessed how they discredited us, how they harassed us, but now look… Elan Ceres died fighting Aiden Winters, it was a duel to the death." She paused, her gaze piercing the three women. "Now, the real question is… who's this Elan Ceres within the crowd, if this old one had died?"

The three women were left speechless, their eyes darting toward the phone cameras that had recorded the entire revelation.

"Oh my god," exclaimed Deacon. "We got them… we got them."

"What are you talking about?" Nika asked, bewildered.

"They were just caught red-handed for cloning or whatever the hell they were doing," Deacon replied, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Speak no lies on us, and we'll speak no truths on you."

Nika could only stare in stunned silence. "They're done for," she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

But it was Grassley Senior who spoke up. "Ms. Miorine, while we appreciate your speech and your impassioned defense against these claims… we cannot simply ignore this," he stated firmly. "Whatever duels Winters had to protect the Aerial… and even Peil's disgraceful interruption of the event for their own goals, we cannot allow a weapon that will steal the lives of its pilots," he concluded.

Miorine snapped back just as quickly. "Like I said, Suletta is alive and well. I have been repeating this fact throughout this whole speech… but you and everyone else seem ready to deny and dispose of things that you just don't understand."

Grassley fixed Miorine with a skeptical gaze. "Do you have a solution other than disposal?" he inquired.

With a nod, Miorine gestured toward Oscar. "Oscar, pull up the whiteboard and jot down everything I say," she directed.

"Yes, ma'am," Oscar responded, clicking out of the video and bringing up a graph.

As Miorine spoke, words and graphs materialized on the screen. "Based on past financial statements, I estimate that after disposing of the Pharact and dissolving the development team responsible, Peil's loss will be 120 billion. I thus propose twice that amount, 240 billion..." she explained.

All eyes on the stage widened. "Double the fucking amount?" Winters muttered as he watched Miorine's back, restraining himself from interjecting. This was Miorine's domain now, a world of numbers and strategy.

Miorine pressed on. "...as the investment goal for my new business plan. We'll purchase Shin Sei's and Peil's development teams through M&A, then merge them together. A new company will be established..." She began walking toward Aiden, eventually reaching his side.

Stopping beside him, she declared, "This company will be managed and operated with the protection of life as its top priority!"

Oscar struggled to keep up, his dyslexia showing on the screen. "Damn, he's really struggling up there," someone heckled from the crowd.

Miorine took a deep breath, shooting Oscar a stern look. "This new company... it will be called GUND-ARM!"

Nika and Deacon exchanged wide-eyed glances at the name. "Really, Miorine, you couldn't have found a name that was less conspicuous?" Deacon groaned.

"Gundam?" Suletta questioned. "Aerial, isn't a..."

But Shaddiq's hearty laughter cut through the crowd, prompting Miorine to continue her speech.

"Everyone gathered here today... is here for a future that will reignite the spark of the Benrett Group's profitability. The company and I will be responsible for bioethical issues and complying with the Agreement's restrictions. If investment is by anonymous contract, and it's independent from the group... then there's no risk to anyone!"

Miorine's grasp on Aiden's hand was unexpected, her fingers intertwining with his, leaving him staring at her in astonishment. "M-Miorine."

"If any of you see value in this idea, please invest in the establishment... of Gund-Arm Inc.," she implored.

Deacon stood beside Nika, her hands clenched so tightly that he might have winced if he weren't so absorbed by the speech. The ensuing silence was deafening.

"It's not enough," Shaddiq declared, as the screen displayed zero percent investors.

"Why?" Miorine demanded, frustration creeping into her tone.

It was Delling himself who answered. "It's because... there is no value in your proposal. They're all saying that. No matter how grandiose you may sound, you have absolutely no credibility to back it up…"

Miorine's eyes widened in realization. "Credibility?" she echoed. Suddenly, it dawned on her: she had forgotten the most crucial element of her speech—the product itself. Without any technology or tangible evidence, their venture was built on mere promises.

This was about saving the Aerial, and she needed something concrete. Anything! Failure to deliver would mean the destruction of the Aerial, and Miorine couldn't bear the thought of Suletta's heartbreak. Suletta was her best friend, and her anguish was not something Miorine could allow.

"You want something!" she exclaimed, breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon the crowd. Even Delling, previously poised to walk away, was now fixated on her. Turning to Aiden, she made her demand. "I need your arm."

"What?" Aiden whispered in shock, his eyes darting around the crowd. "You want me to rip off my arm in front of everyone here?"

Miorine's glare bore into him. "This is about the Aerial and its destruction," she insisted. "Your arm and leg are proof that minor traces of Gundam Tech can improve people's lives. Your arm and leg can replicate false neurons, allowing you to feel again."

Aiden fell silent, and in that moment, Miorine realized the weight of her request. She had rushed into this without considering the gravity of what she was asking Aiden...

As Aiden relinquished his prosthetic arm, the weight of humiliation bore down upon him. His eyes fell upon Suletta, her expression a blend of fear and sorrow. The prospect of exposing his vulnerability in such a public setting filled him with dread. He had resigned himself to the perpetual discomfort of concealing his prosthetics beneath long sleeves and pants, even in the sweltering heat.

With an audible sigh, heavy with resignation, he detached the prosthetic limb, its once seamless integration with his skin now starkly contrasting against the utilitarian grey. The act drew wide-eyed astonishment from the onlookers, but it was Deacon, Suletta, and Oscar who noticed Aiden's sudden withdrawal. He turned away, his hair obscuring his eyes, yet Oscar could discern the telltale glimmer of tears tracing silent paths down his cheeks.

Miorine seized the moment, brandishing the false appendage as irrefutable evidence of the benefits of Gundam Technology in prosthetics. "Aiden Winters was furnished with this technology to replace limbs lost during the Harmony IMC War," she declared, her voice resolute. "The Benrett Group stands to profit from lifelike prosthetic appendages, offering individuals like Aiden the chance to reclaim their lives."

Aiden's gaze flared at the mention, his emotions roiling beneath the surface.

"The sensation of these false neurons is akin to that of an actual limb," Miorine affirmed in response to an inquiry from a man with striking blue hair. "Aiden can attest to the intricacies of tactile sensations and experiences. We have unlocked the mystery of creating high-functioning prosthetics, enabling seamless movement and control."

Another voice, this time a woman in an elegant dress, interjected with a question about the availability of other prosthetic components. Miorine nodded, her breath heavy with anticipation. "We offer fully functional Gund-Arm legs and hands," she announced, raising her glass in acknowledgment. "With your investment, we can make these prosthetics accessible, safe, and compliant with industry regulations."

The crowd stirred with renewed interest, their skepticism gradually yielding to the promise of innovation and progress.

Beneath the veil of bickering, Miorine's gaze fixated on the digital display, where the barren zero gradually yielded ground to ascending percentages. The tension in the room mounted with each incremental rise until it plateaued at a tepid 34%.

"Shit," Oscar's expletive punctuated the moment, breaking the collective anticipation.

Miorine's eyes widened in dismay as she turned to survey the room, seeking Aiden amidst the sea of faces. Her heart quickened at the sight of him, his flowing sleeve billowing with each tense movement. It had been some time since she had seen him without his prosthetics, and the sight unsettled her. Aiden's clenched fist, streaked with blood, betrayed a fury that eluded her comprehension. Unbeknownst to Miorine, his ire was directed at her.

The numbers flickered, fluctuating between hope and disappointment—34%, 41%, 50%—before grinding to an abrupt halt.

Miorine's features hardened with frustration, her thoughts converging on Prospera Mercury. With a surge of determination, she ascended the stairs, her pace quickening until she stood before her father, a silent observer amidst the chaos.

"What are you doing?" his voice, measured and calm, pierced the tumult.

Drawing a ragged breath, Miorine pleaded, "I want you to invest in my company."

Delling's silence hung heavy in the air, a testament to his deliberation.

"I already have 50%," Miorine pressed on, her tone tinged with desperation. "You see that this can be successful."

Delling's shrug conveyed a skepticism that cut deeper than words. "That's why you only have 50%," he countered, his gaze unwavering. "Because the other half of the room doesn't think so."

A surge of anger coursed through Miorine, her father's refusal a bitter pill to swallow after her tireless efforts.

"Please," she implored, her resolve faltering as she bowed before him. "Your credibility, it means so much. I want to borrow it."

As Delling's gaze locked with Aiden's, a silent exchange passed between them. Aiden's missing limb, once concealed beneath his sleeve, laid bare the scars of his past. In that moment of silent communion, Delling's unspoken thoughts reverberated through the cavernous halls.

"Others may look down on you, Winters, but I don't," his inner voice echoed. "I see it now—the mark of the warrior, the same mark as me. We can't live a normal life after the things we've done, the things we've seen. Your scars show...I am just better at hiding it."

His thoughts gravitated toward Miorine, a beacon of determination amidst the chaos. Winter's voice reverberated in his mind, reassuring him, "Miorine can take care of herself."

Miorine remained kneeling, her eyes squeezed shut against the impending verdict. The electronic pulse of the screen behind her echoed in the tense silence. 53%, and in that moment, she felt the weight of her father's departure like a blow to the heart.

"The Gundam Curse, Miorine," Delling's ominous words lingered in the air like a foreboding shadow. "You can't run away from it...you and Winters will learn that truth."

With a solemn nod, Delling Rembran and his aide descended the stairs, their departure signaling the end of an era.

As the gathered crowd watched in rapt astonishment, the numbers continued their upward climb, defying expectation until they reached an astounding 100%. Business successfully formed! In a burst of jubilation, flower petals danced through the air, and flames erupted in celebration.

Nika sought solace in Deacon's embrace, their shared relief palpable in the electric atmosphere.

Shaddiq's laughter rang out joyfully, while Cecilia's smug smile spoke volumes. Yet, amidst the jubilation, her keen gaze caught sight of a mop of blond hair disappearing around a corner. With a determined stride, she peeled herself away from the wall, her path set towards the enigmatic figure of the false Ceres.

Aiden

The group reconvened, the lingering remnants of the party still clinging to them like the fading echoes of a forgotten melody. Emotionally drained, they found themselves ensconced in a cluster of weary bodies.

"Fuck this party," Oscar's disdainful remark punctuated the heavy air, his frustration palpable as he discarded social niceties. The women, their heels cast aside, found solace on a nearby staircase. Miorine, her breaths labored, clung to herself as if seeking refuge from the whirlwind of events that had unfolded.

Deacon's surprised chuckle echoed through the dimly lit space. "That's rich," he retorted, amusement tinged with weariness evident in his voice. "What's the plan then?"

Oscar shook his head, a weary resignation coloring his expression. "Play some video games and smoke some weed, honestly," he confessed, his admission laced with a hint of defiance. "We've earned it after all that. Note to self: Sons of Harmony parties only from now on." His accusatory gaze swept over the group, daring them to disagree.

But Miorine's voice pierced through the haze of fatigue, her disbelief mirroring the sentiments of the group. "This is unbelievable," she scoffed, her words heavy with incredulity. "We're a freaking company now..."

Oscar cracked his neck, a nonchalant gesture amidst the chaos. "Miorine, that's a problem for tomorrow morning, lowkey," he dismissed, his focus already shifting to more immediate concerns. "Right now, I just want some subway. You guys think subway is still open?" he mused aloud, his thoughts drifting to the simple comfort of food.

Nika's sigh cut through the air, a weary exhale laden with the weight of recent revelations. "Oscar, I get that you're hungry... but let's not focus on food right now," she implored, her words a gentle reminder of the gravity of their situation. "It's insane that Peil was trying to discredit you guys and the Aerial," she added, her tone a mixture of disbelief and indignation.

Aiden stood apart from the group, his solitude a shield against the awkwardness that threatened to suffocate him. His attempts to reattach his prosthetic arm echoed in the cavernous space, each clang of metal against metal a testament to his frustration.

"Yo, Aiden, you need some help?" Deacon's voice pierced the tense silence, a lifeline thrown into the abyss of Aiden's struggle.

But Aiden remained silent, his focus consumed by the stubborn limb that refused to yield. With each futile attempt to force the arm into place, his frustration mounted, the rhythmic pounding reverberating through the staircase like a discordant symphony.

"Aiden?" Deacon's concern laced his words, his attempts to break through Aiden's armor met with stubborn resistance.

Deacon sighed, the weight of the moment heavy upon his shoulders. "Aiden, you're gonna have to, like, take off your shirt and dress shirt and tie. You're not gonna be able to slip it in like—"

Nika's touch on Deacon's shoulder halted his words, a silent plea for understanding. "Just let him..." she urged, her voice a soothing balm to the frayed nerves of the group.

But Deacon pressed on, determined to offer his assistance. "It's fine, Nika. Before everyone came around, I was helping Aiden with his prosthetics."

"I am fine," Aiden's terse response cut through the air, his frustration palpable as he grappled with the unyielding limb. "I just can't connect it, and I don't want to strip. I can get it."

In the midst of his struggle, Aiden felt the weight of their stares, the silent judgment that threatened to drown him. He sneered at their scrutiny, resentful of their pity.

Suletta's tentative approach pulled him from his thoughts. "C-can I help?" she offered, her voice a timid whisper.

Aiden's gaze hardened as he turned to face her. "You don't think I can do it on my own?" his words dripped with wounded pride, his defensiveness a shield against their perceived pity.

Suletta recoiled at his tone, her eyes downcast in shame. "No, no, no," she stammered, her words a desperate attempt to alleviate his anger. "I just wanted to help. You were struggling and—"

But Aiden cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't need any help," he declared, his tone laced with bitterness. His gaze swept over the assembled group, his resentment simmering beneath the surface. "So, Miorine, next press conference, are me and Oscar gonna give you our legs and we're gonna have to walk around like pirates in front of a whole crowd of strangers?" he taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Miorine's incredulous response mirrored the collective shock of the group, her anger a fierce flame that burned bright in the dimly lit space. "What?" she sputtered, her voice trembling with indignation. "Are you seriously upset at me?"

But Aiden turned away, his sneer a mask of defiance. "Don't talk to me, Rembran," he spat, his anger a barrier between them.

"Come on, guys," Nika interjected, her voice a soothing salve to the tension that threatened to tear them apart. "We're all friends here. The last hour was really stressful... honestly, I like the Oscar idea."

Aiden emitted a derisive snort. "...the one where we both toss Miorine our legs," he quipped, his tone laced with bitterness.

Nika shook her head, her expression tinged with amusement. "The sandwich plan," she countered. "That would be a nice treat before the night is over..."

Deacon, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I can go for a sandwich... only if that's what my date wants," he replied, his voice tinged with playful affection.

Aiden chuckled darkly, a shadow crossing his features. "Have fun with that," he retorted, his tone heavy with sarcasm as he rose to his feet, the movement fluid and purposeful.

Miorine's eyes widened, her disbelief evident in the furrow of her brow. "Are you really throwing a temper tantrum right now?" she demanded, her voice edged with frustration.

Aiden shot her a withering look, his irritation palpable. "You slapped me, and you forced me to give up my left arm for your presentation," he accused, his words sharp and biting.

"Presentation?" Miorine echoed incredulously, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I don't know if it's the music you blast into your ears, or the weed you smoke, but I did that whole thing... the presentation and formation of the company for Suletta so the Aerial would not be destroyed."

Aiden rolled his eyes, his impatience evident in the gesture. "If you had let me and Delling..." he began, his voice trailing off in frustration.

"What, duel?" Miorine snapped, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. "Sometimes I forget just how stupid you can be," she retorted, her words sharp and unforgiving.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, the tension between them palpable. Deacon moved to intervene, but it was Suletta who stepped forward, her presence a calming influence on the heated exchange.

Aiden pressed on, his voice tinged with defiance. "He was on board for it... and I wasn't going to kill him or anything," he insisted, his words brimming with righteous anger.

Miorine's eyes widened in shock, her disbelief evident in her tone. "That's my father, Aiden Winters. That's your father-in-law!" she admonished, her words a stinging rebuke.

"He ain't shit to me!" Aiden snapped, his anger boiling over. "He's one of the people responsible for killing my homeworld. He deserves to go to hell for what he did to us... and don't get me started..."

"Is that really how you feel?" Miorine demanded, her voice tinged with hurt and anger.

Aiden glared down at her, his gaze unwavering. "You used me up there for your company... there was another way, but you humiliated me up there, Miorine. How would you feel if I asked you to take off a part of yourself in front of everyone you know? Could you do it?" he challenged, his words cutting and harsh.

Miorine fell silent, her expression pained. Aiden shook his head in resignation. "Thought so," he muttered bitterly. "Why am I not surprised?"

With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving his friends in a state of shock and sadness, the echoes of his departure lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste.