Chapter 834: Masked Rider

The Big Yellow Duck raced across the milky sea at a speed that completely defied the physics of inflatable toys.

Heimu stands at the front of the duck, one hand pressing the brim, the other hand fingers spread forward, dark‑purple light specks surge from her fingertips, forming a streamlined energy shield in front of the duck.

The energy shield cleaves the oncoming sea breeze, and the wind that sweeps past the duck's sides carves two extremely long and deep white wave tracks on the sea surface; the tracks spread outward, drawing symmetric fan‑shaped ripples on the mirror‑like water.

Heimu finds this very interesting.

Her Witch Hat brim is pushed back slightly by the wind, her ash‑white long hair trails straight behind her, the off‑shoulder Lolita dress's hem clings to her thighs under the breeze, and her black matte sheer stockings‑covered legs stand slightly apart on the inflatable surface of the duck to keep balance.

She even puts away her Magic Staff, one hand pressing the hat, the other extended forward to control the wind, her posture as casual as someone pedaling a boat in a park on a weekend.

Sakura sits on the middle section of the duck.

The Foot-long dagger lies flat on her knees, her pink medium‑short hair is blown back by the sea wind, revealing the full shape of her ears.

Those gray‑purple eyes maintain a steady scanning rate even at high speed, but they are not scanning the sea; they are scanning Kesi Mo seated at the duck's rear.

Kesi Mo sits at the stern, their sitting posture extremely rigid.

Her hands grip tightly onto the edge of the inflatable surface, fingertips piercing the plastic; her whole body resembles a cat forced into water, every muscle subtly expressing the desire "I want to get off the boat."

The sea wind makes her scarf whirl wildly behind her, yet she pays it no attention.

She is feeling the unfamiliar features on her own body.

Her chest gently sways with the duck's pitching motion.

Kesi Mo's pupils contract slightly.

She pulls the scarf forward forcefully, covering the neckline more tightly.

Inside, a barrage of thoughts scrolls at dozens per second; the feeling is bizarre—why does walking feel wobbly, why is the waist thinner than in Memory, why did her center of gravity shift so much when she stood up just now, nearly tipping her backward.

She takes a deep breath, trying to stay as Calm as possible.

Ge Lei Xiu turns her head.

She had been sitting at the middle of the duck near Sakura, both small hands neatly placed on her knees.

She notices Kesi Mo's condition; the subtle expression on Kesi Mo's face is far too obvious for a naturally intuitive player like Ge Lei Xiu.

Her cheeks are redder than usual, her brows aren't furrowed but there's a slight tension at the bridge, and her breathing rate is half a beat faster than normal.

Ge Lei Xiu stands up, the white silk covering her soles makes a faint friction sound against the inflatable plastic; she steps forward two paces and crouches beside Kesi Mo.

Those light‑purple eyes look calmly at Kesi Mo; when she speaks, her tone is gentle and steady, yet the words hit as precisely as a needle into Kesi Mo's most sensitive spot: "Kesi Mo, are you feeling unwell?"

Kesi Mo's spine snaps straight.

She watches Ge Lei Xiu crouched before her, her ice‑blue hair fluttering lightly in the sea breeze; those light‑purple eyes are so close she can see the curve of Ge Lei Xiu's eyelashes.

She quickly waves her hand, fingertips scribbling erratically in the air, while her body leans back several inches.

"Nothing."

Her voice is dry, like a riverbed baked for three days.

Ge Lei Xiu tilts her head.

Kesi Mo says "nothing," but Ge Lei Xiu's intuition tells her Kesi Mo is hiding something.

She doesn't overthink, instinctively steps forward another half‑step, extending a hand to gauge Kesi Mo's forehead temperature.

Kesi Mo watches Ge Lei Xiu's hand approach, feeling a burning anxiety.

The mental barrage spikes from "What to do?" to "It's over, it's over, it's over" in an instant; within a fraction of a second she frantically searches for any way to divert Ge Lei Xiu's attention, and her fingers feel something in her pocket.

A cold object she can't recall putting into her pocket.

She has no time to wonder when the item entered her pocket; she pulls it out at top speed and holds it before Ge Lei Xiu.

"I—I found something."

Kesi Mo's voice rises at least half a tone, hand clutching the object aloft, "It's from me—don't know when it appeared."

Ge Lei Xiu's attention is drawn to the object.

She stops, tilting her head to look at the item in Kesi Mo's hand.

Heimu turns her head sideways from the front of the duck.

She has actually been covertly observing Kesi Mo's side of the situation.

Since Kesi Mo first sat on the duck, their posture has remained rigid, face alternating red and white; Sakura probably assumes it's from the recent battle, but Heimu knows clearly that Kesi Mo is undergoing the psychological breakdown every man experiences when suddenly turned into a girl.

She feels sympathy.

But given Kesi Mo's extreme taciturn nature, they would never voice such a thing.

So when Kesi Mo pulls out the item, Heimu instantly turns and asks, in a perfectly natural "What?"

She draws everyone's attention to Kesi Mo's hand.

Sakura also turns her head, her gray‑purple eyes gazing at the hand Kesi Mo holds aloft.

Kesi Mo clutches a palm‑sized metal device.

It is overall a flat rectangle, the main body a deep indigo, surface covered with a fine matte texture, edges inlaid with silver‑white metal frames.

At the front center sits an oval warm‑orange gem, encircled by an exquisite silver‑white gear‑shaped metal ring that rotates slowly on its own, each tiny click audible with every small turn.

The device's back bears several streamlined grooves, each housing purple‑black patterns whose ends converge into a tiny hole at the top.

At its top is a foldable short handle; when folded it lies flush against the side, and when extended it forms a right‑angle grip.

The overall design is exquisitely intricate, its color scheme—indigo, warm orange, silver‑white—matching Kesi Mo's own palette perfectly.

Heimu watches the object, raising an eyebrow slightly.

A streamlined metal shell, an oval gem at its center, a side‑folding grip—this shape, this palette, this transformation device's unmistakable vibe.

"Masked Rider?"

She blurts it out, her tone tinged with a subtle sarcasm.

Sakura blinks.

A hint of confusion flickers in the gray‑purple eyes.

She looked at the device in Kesi Mo's hand, fell silent for a moment, then, with utmost honesty, said, "…I don't understand."

She hails from Past World Paradise, where her world has katana and assassination techniques, but Kamen Rider is clearly outside her knowledge domain.