Reborn as an A-Rank Guide: Trapped By The Crazy Sentinels

Bunny turned around to find a young, utterly clueless version of Xander standing there.

The little chubby toddler was irresistibly adorable. Unable to help herself, Bunny reached out to pinch his squishy cheeks before scooping little Xander right into her arms.

”Who I am isn’t important. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

Little Xander’s expression turned heartbreakingly sad. ”I can’t find my daddy anymore.”

He burst into sudden tears. Bunny could only comfort him while pretending she was taking him to search for his dad.

Children’s emotions come fast and pass just as quickly. After crying in her arms for a little while, he settled down. Bunny held him close, softly patting his back while telling him the story of the Three Little Pigs.

The little boy’s long eyelashes fluttered. Though heavy waves of sleepiness fought to pull him under, he couldn’t bear to close his eyes—perhaps sensing that once he fell asleep, he might never see her again.

He curled up obediently against her chest until a sweet, gentle kiss brushed against his forehead.

”Go to sleep, sweet boy.”

Little Xander finally drifted off, a subtle, happy smile lingering at the corner of his lips.

Bunny resumed clearing away the mental pollutants. By the time she finished every last bit of the task, she collapsed in complete, total exhaustion.

Her mental energy was severely drained. Xander carried the sleeping Bunny out of the water, his downcast eyes filled with gentle, lingering affection.

He had sensed everything—including the moments when she held his younger self.

He affectionately nuzzled her cheek before carrying her back to his room; she needed a proper rest.

Their figures quickly disappeared from the edge of the pool.

Simultaneously, inside the base’s central monitoring room, the clear footage of Bunny and Xander embracing intimately in the water was reflected vividly in the cold, dark depths of Cyrus’s eyes.

He was watching her through the security feed.

A minute later, Cyrus took off his headset with knuckles strained white and slammed it violently against the console platform.

The deafening crash rang sharply through the dead silence of the control room. As the maglev doors slid open with a smooth hiss, Cyrus stormed out, cloaked in a dark, volatile aura of pure rage.

Xander had been right about one thing: A cold bastard like Cyrus absolutely hated it when anyone touched something he had set his sights on.

***

Terra Federal Republic, Imperial Administration Building Conference Hall

Inside a completely sealed, brilliant white conference room, an executive secretary in sharp red high heels was syncing the data terminals of every attending official. At the center of the table sat a solitary corn poppy submerged in a flask of resurrection fluid.

”Virtual link loaded...”

”Data transmission in progress...”

As the mechanical electronic voice echoed, holographic projections materialized one by one over the blue-light floating seats.

Seated directly at the front was the President of the Republican Assembly, dressed in a white-and-gold uniform. His hair was silvered at the temples, and his hawkish eyes carried a sharp, weathered intensity.

The remaining high-ranking officials loaded in sequentially. Seated at the very end of the table was Commander Alion, and directly across from him sat a dark-haired, dark-eyed man—the second son of the Reid family, Amos Reid.

”Good evening, everyone. This emergency session is called to announce the following agenda items...”

A decrypted data packet was pushed directly to everyone’s communication terminals, containing detailed crustal structure maps and satellite imagery of Terra’s polluted regions.

The first agenda item concerned the Clone Restriction Act. Certain legacy clone models manufactured by the Simons Corporation had begun rioting, with incidents concentrated primarily across factories, mining sectors, and lower-city distribution hubs.

”HBL Police Department has reached an agreement with the Simons Corporation to recall all legacy units in bulk for systematic decommissioning and destruction.”

Officials from the Resource Department expressed greater concern over the long-term stability of the energy grid.

The meeting quickly moved to its final item. The Assembly President opened the satellite imagery packet, his brow deeply furrowed:

”Satellite arrays have detected heightened geothermal activity across Outer Terra’s surface recently. Multiple waves of alien swarms from unidentified sources are converging, executing organized and tactical strikes against energy substations.”

”They have already decimated South One and Two before abruptly shifting course, migrating continuously toward the East. At their current rate of advance, they will overrun the entire Eastern Sector within a week.”

”Commander Alion.”

Called upon directly, Alion raised his icy-blue eyes.

”Dispatch a fleet of warships there immediately. Assist the Tower garrisons in containing this massive alien tide. Otherwise, the entire energy infrastructure of the Eastern Sector will be destroyed.”

Meeting the Assembly President’s stern gaze, Alion gave a slight, compliant nod. ”Understood.”

Seated opposite him, Amos let out a cold, mocking sneer. ”Tch. It seems there’s a world of difference even among clones.”

”Commander Alion, if memory serves me right, aren’t you a legacy model yourself?”

Amos curled his lips into a disdainful, brazen smirk. ”I certainly hope your name doesn’t show up on HBL’s hit list anytime soon.”

Every word out of Amos’s mouth dripped with contempt for clones as second-class citizens, alongside a deep, venomous hostility toward Alion himself. As Mikado’s loyal hound, Alion had long clashed with the Reid family in the Assembly.

Even without Cyrus, there was still Amos.

The remaining officials kept silent, observing from the sidelines with indifference—a coldness Alion had long grown accustomed to. The deep-seated prejudice and discrimination this world held against clones was an eternal chain shackling him.

Alion ignored Amos’s provocation entirely. The Reid family’s second son posed no real threat to him—he was nothing more than a pretty, useless vessel. The only rival he truly respected and feared had already been banished to 616, doomed to rot there for the rest of his life.

As the meeting concluded, Alion severed his virtual connection. His adjutant stepped forward to report that Yuna, in her desperate bid to refuse a binding with him, had staged a public attempt on her own life at home.

Alion let out a sinister chuckle, tapping his pale, slender fingers against the desk.

”Send her another round of ’sympathy gifts.’ As for her favorite dog... whether he walks out of the water dungeon alive depends entirely on her behavior.”

As the adjutant turned to leave, Alion called him back once more.

”For this encirclement operation, I will personally command the fleet heading to 616.”

The adjutant looked surprised. ”Commander, you’re going in person?”

Alion glanced down at the genetic analysis report sitting on his desk—showing an astounding 99.99% purity match—a dark, unreadable gleam flashing in his icy-blue eyes.

”Yes.”

He needed to go himself to harvest a vial of that woman’s blood.