Nathan’s eyes widened.
"Wait... you can see the panel?"
Domina blinked slowly. "Well, yeah?"
Then she tilted her head. "Why do you look so shocked?"
Why the hell have they never mentioned the panels if they could see them all along?! Nathan was utterly confused.
From behind a small tree, Livia giggled.
"Hehehe~ Why do you look so confused? You’re always playing with those weird colored glowing floating panels."
"Glowing... weird-colored?"
Domina put her hands on her hips, her chest puffing out like she was about to give a team briefing.
"Yeah, even when you ate that Chatterfruit, you summoned one of those system panels."
"Then why didn’t any of you ever say anything?"
Domina shrugged. "I don’t know... I just thought it was one of your habits when you get scared."
"Scared...?" Nathan couldn’t comprehend the Monster Girl logic.
Domina grinned. "Look—Open!"
She raised her hand like she was casting a spell.
A transparent green panel appeared in front of her face.
Nathan’s jaw dropped.
"W-What the hell is that?! I can’t read it!"
The text on the panel was bizarre.
The letters kept shifting—slithering like worms on a journey of self-discovery, pulsing slightly like the language itself had a heartbeat.
"What... the fuck... is this..."
Domina tapped the panel lightly, like smacking a stubborn vending machine.
"This is my system panel."
Nathan’s brain short-circuited.
"So... you’ve had your own system panel all this time?!"
Domina grinned. "Hmm? Isn’t it obvious? Everyone has their own system panel."
Nathan’s thoughts flipped upside down.
He turned to Livia, who was now spinning around like an ADHD ballerina.
"Open!" Livia chirped.
A pink panel popped up in front of her.
She clapped her hands like a kid who just discovered dog filters.
Nathan stood there, dumbfounded.
"...But why can’t I read any of them?"
Domina narrowed her eyes.
"Well... we also can’t read your system panels."
Nathan stared at Domina’s green panel—it kept blinking like an illegal massage parlor ad hidden in a shady corner of the city.
"...How the hell do you even have those panels?" he asked, voice low but heavy with pressure.
Domina and Livia exchanged glances.
"No idea," Domina shrugged. "They were just... always there."
"Like a pet that knows how to summon itself," added Livia, who was currently trying to bite the edge of her pink panel.
Nathan rubbed his temples.
"You guys are... weird. You have your own panels, different colors, unreadable languages..."
He took a long breath.
Instantly—the atmosphere changed.
Velmora’s back tensed.
Domina froze mid-motion.
Livia held her squat like a paused GIF, her hand still resting on a small tree.
They were... disconnected.
Unplugged from reality.
Then—a system panel appeared, right in front of Nathan’s face.
[BUGGED HUNTERS have weakened the protection against forbidden memory.]
[Restoring stability... Re-synchronizing local consciousness data...]
And just like that—movement resumed.
Domina hoisted up a tree.
Velmora let out a soft sigh like she had just finished stretching after yoga.
"Whew! Hard work really feels good!" Domina said brightly.
"Huh...? You were just talking abou—"
They were back to normal.
As if the entire conversation about system panels had never even happened.
He stared at his hands.
What the hell... is happening to them?
And what will happen to them... if humanity ever reaches this floor?
Then he looked at the panel still floating in the air—before it slowly faded away, like morning mist that knew too many secrets.
Meanwhile — somewhere deep in the Tower’s control core...
A dark chamber, dimly lit by dozens of floating transparent panels—scattered in erratic formations, like failed dream particles that never coalesced.
The Tower Manager sat cross-legged atop a flat chair made from frayed cables and logical branches. Her fingers typed slowly in mid-air—editing reality scripts like a secretary at God’s front desk.
[Forbidden Memory Protection: WEAKENED]
[Source: BUGGED HUNTER Interaction]
The Tower Manager stopped typing.
Her eyelids twitched softly.
Her hands lowered. She stared at the notification like someone who just realized they’d been sexting their ex while half-asleep.
"No penalty...?" she muttered.
Her fingers trembled briefly, then she raised one to her chin. Her eyes narrowed—not in anger, but like an old scientist realizing their experiment had developed a personality and was now writing its own autobiography.
The notification panel was still there.
No tier-three reality sanctions.
As if the world itself whispered:
"We see it. But we’d rather see what you do next."
The Tower Manager bit her lower lip.
Then, slowly, she leaned closer to the panel—eyes fixed on the final line, as if reading the suicide note of the future:
> [Re-synchronizing local consciousness data...]
"I always struggled with the Tower’s rules forbidding me from letting them remember that—but he managed to weaken the protection?"
Then she let out a quiet laugh.
But the laugh of someone sane, who realized they no longer belonged to the laws that govern sanity.
"...Fascinating. A human... disrupting the system."
She leaned back slowly into her chair, her fingers brushing the seam between her hair and skull.
"Then maybe... they really can survive."
She smiled gently now, eyes shimmering—holding her chest as her breasts quivered slightly.
"What a strange... feeling," she whispered.
Somewhere above the canopy...
Morvessa hovered gently in the sky, her black wings stretched wide—catching the sunlight like sheets of luxury carbon fiber.
From a distance, she spotted the Monster Girls... uprooting trees?
"...Why aren’t they hunting?" Morvessa murmured, her voice flat—like an algorithm exhausted from trying to find new readers for this NovelHub.
She glided closer, her black hair dancing in the wind.
Validia was scanning logs like a customs officer.
Velmora was still in her snake-bridge pose—hips raised, chest dangling like a pair of royal jelly domes.
Domina hugged a tree, sighing softly like it was her boyfriend after a breakup.
Morvessa blinked slowly.
"What... are they even doing?"
She exhaled, descending softly—her wings flapping like the long, weary breath of a nature lover disappointed by influencer who’s has been posted #RespectNature on their stories but leave trash all over the mountain.
Validia, still sorting sapoa trunks with care, looked up.