There were four soldiers behind the attempt on Lina’s life: Captain Alexander Arcturus, commander of Team 3; Lieutenant Jacob Regulus, first star of Team 3; Captain Charlotte Vega, commander of Team 4; and Second Lieutenant Layla Deneb, first star of Team 4. Meanwhile, another three helped Lina escape: Major Benjamin Canopus, commander of Team 1; Second Lieutenant Ralph Hardy Milfak, second star of Team 1; and Second Lieutenant Ralph Algol, another second star of Team 1. Of these three, Milfak drove Lina out of the base in a prototype pickup truck and managed to escape with her. Meanwhile, Canopus single-handedly fought Arcturus, Regulus, and Vega. Then Algol took on Deneb, who had been on Lina’s tail until the commander managed to escape. From the bed of Lina’s pickup truck, Algol tackled Deneb, and the two tumbled to the ground.

“Layla!” Vega screamed.

She had rushed outside with Deneb, chasing after Lina once Milfak had picked her up from the experimental vehicle warehouse. But when Canopus got in the way, Vega had to give up the chase and face him.

“Major Canopus! Don’t you know about Commander Sirius’s treachery?!” she shouted.

Canopus wasn’t sure whether this was simply the mutiny’s flimsy justification or if she was truly convinced that was the case. It was probably the latter, but he was still simply speculating.

Second Lieutenant Ariana Lee Shaula of Team 11 had claimed that all the members of Teams 3, 6, and 11 (minus Shaula herself) had been infected by parasites. Shaula had exceptional sensitivity to abnormal pushion waves and a strong resistance against mental interference magic. Canopus was confident he could trust her when it came to identifying parasites.

If Shaula’s assessment was correct, Vega and Deneb from Team 4 weren’t infected. They were probably just misled by false information the parasite-infected renegade leaders had been spreading.

It was no secret that Vega disliked Lina—although many of the star class could see it was pure envy. Possibly due to Vega’s influence, Second Lieutenant Deneb was also standoffish toward Lina. Lieutenant Spica was not as obvious as the other two, but it was easy to see that she felt similarly. Exploiting the feelings of these three was easy work for the parasites.

Soldiers were not supposed to act on their emotions. Officers, especially, were trained to always keep their feelings in check. Unfortunately, humans are weak to noble causes. When given a righteous purpose, they can easily deceive themselves to believe they are acting out of duty. Believing they are serving a noble cause allows their emotions to unconsciously take over.

Canopus not only was aware of this but had seen it happen with his own eyes hundreds of times. He knew his words would have no effect on Vega, but he still felt compelled to try.

“The commander said she never betrayed the Stars!” he shouted. “Your actions are what’s treasonous, Captain Vega!”

Vega cast the weighting-type spell, Double Press, in response. This spell generated gravitational fields on a flat plane, applying pressure from two directions simultaneously. It was typically used to crush a target.

Casting two parallel weighting-type Press spells, Canopus neutralized Double Press. Instead of countering Vega’s attack directly, he forced the spells to cancel each other out.

“But how?!” Vega gasped in surprise.

Vega knew of the spell, thanks to the Stars’ training program. It was Canopus’s use of such a complex technique in the heat of battle that caught her off guard. To do this, a magician either had to read their opponent’s magic quickly enough to cast their own spell at the appropriate coordinates, or accurately predict the spell their opponent would use. The former involved a difficult spell identical or at least similar to Program Dispersion. The latter meant Canopus would have had to anticipate Vega’s attack.

Her surprise gave Canopus the opening he needed. He approached not with the intention to slash at her with Atomic Divider, but to incapacitate her with a sustained electric shock.

After taking four steps, he froze unexpectedly. Without looking back, he cast Mirror Shield to his four o’clock. This spell, designed to deflect high-energy lasers, did just that to Regulus’s shot. At the same time, Canopus’s own laser grazed Regulus’s cheek.

A cold sweat spread across Regulus’s back. He hadn’t expected such quick reflexes from his colleague. He scurried away, weapon in hand.

But Canopus had not yet actively attacked. Regulus wasn’t sure if the major couldn’t see him, or if he was instead choosing to prioritize Vega and Arcturus. Regulus had been sniping until now, but his colleague’s unexpected counterattack put the pressure on.

Although Regulus’s specialty skill, Laser Sniping, allowed him to attack stealthily, his opponents would be alerted to his location after a single shot. While there was a similar risk with traditional bullet-based sniping, conventional magic could be cast from behind cover for increased stealth. Regulus was well aware of his attack’s flaw. After each shot, he swiftly repositioned himself with his rifle-shaped weapon in hand. He also minimized moving with magic to avoid detection, while still constantly changing locations to ensure his opponent couldn’t easily pinpoint him. The fact that Canopus could do nothing more than counter his attacks spoke to the effectiveness of Regulus’s strategy. That said, any attack, even if they were purely reactive, still took a mental toll.

The lasers deflected with Mirror Shield never failed to graze Regulus somewhere, each time sending a chill down the lieutenant’s spine. Laser beams traveled at the speed of light, meaning there was virtually no time between the shot being reflected and it hitting its target. It was impossible for Regulus to cast a shield to intercept the beams in time.

Energy projectiles could be defended against by two types of shields. The first blocked a certain energy threshold, typical of conventional defense shields. The second—which included Mirror Shield—reflected electromagnetic waves.

This latter was more effective against lasers. Mirror Shield only reflected incoming light—it allowed light out. If Regulus cast Mirror Shield himself, it wouldn’t hinder his Laser Sniping. Maintaining the shield, however, would effectively reveal his position, turning his sniping to nothing more than a long-range attack.

In principle, Regulus could deploy Mirror Shield just before sniping to intercept Canopus’s counterattacks. Laser Sniping involved an inevitable time lag between casting and firing. In other words, deploying Mirror Shield immediately after initiating Laser Sniping wouldn’t pose a practical disadvantage.

Unfortunately, Regulus’s weapon didn’t include a mechanism that allowed him to do this. Without one, Regulus wouldn’t be able to cast Mirror Shield quickly enough. His parasite-enhanced magic may have allowed him to manipulate energy projectiles, but the benefits didn’t extend to his shield casting.

If his target were Lina, there would be no issue. To avoid collateral damage, any light reflected by her Mirror Shield was set to land on the ground two meters ahead, regardless of the incoming attack’s angle. While it was undoubtedly a sophisticated technique, the naïveté behind it rendered her much less of a threat to her opponents.

Canopus’s Mirror Shield, on the other hand, was configured to reflect energy projectiles at almost one-eighty degrees. Since it wasn’t perfectly precise, Regulus had managed to avoid any direct hits so far. However, there was no guarantee that his lucky streak would continue.

Accounting for instability caused Canopus’s Mirror Shield to reflect light at an imprecise angle. In other words, the shield was set to reflect light at one-eighty degrees, give or take three degrees. When this margin of error aligned unfavorably, the shield would reflect laser beams directly at Regulus. His resilience was slowly being worn down by the fear that one would eventually land a direct hit on him.

About two hundred meters away from Canopus and Vega, Lieutenant Layla Deneb from Team 4 and Lieutenant Ralph Algol from Team 1 were engaged in combat. Using movement spells, Deneb had leaped onto Lina’s vehicle, but Algol, who had been hiding in the truck bed, ambushed her, causing them both to tumble to the ground.

The two quickly got to their feet and began fighting without exchanging a single word. Deneb believed Algol was helping the traitor Lina. She lunged at Algol, who was happy to fight back regardless of Deneb’s allegiances.

Deneb fired her handgun. But all of a sudden, Algol was no longer in the line of fire. He had rushed close enough to brandish a twelve-inch combat knife with a single-edged blade. Unlike an army knife, it lacked a tapered point and had a curved hilt on its spine, possibly for trapping an opponent’s blade. It was a sophisticated weapon better suited for a knife fighter than a magician.

Deneb and Algol were both close-combat magicians specializing in high-speed movement magic. Deneb had already cast a series of movement spells to shift her position continuously—a technique that made use of the flight magic technology developed by Taurus Silver. Flight magic allowed the caster to glide nimbly by intermittently activating gravity-control magic for less than a second.

It took effect only when the magician intended to move by propelling the body linearly. If the magician didn’t consciously define their destination, the spell would remain inactive and disperse.

Flight magic technology fixed any lag in CAD operation and allowed close-combat magicians, like Deneb, to make sudden movements without delay. With such magic continuously at her fingertips, Deneb could have evaded Algol’s attacks whenever she wanted. However, she chose instead to intercept Algol’s knife with the knuckle guard in her left hand. Even if she had moved backward, Algol—who used the same flight-enhanced movement magic—would immediately catch up. Evasion could lead to a stalemate. Above all, Deneb was itching for a fight.

She was deeply convinced of Lina’s betrayal. And nothing enraged her more than the commander tarnishing her inherited title. The Sirius name represented the military magicians of the USNA. Betraying that was nothing less than a black mark on national pride. Deneb’s violence was driven by righteous anger, however misguided her reasoning was.

Once again, she aimed her handgun at Algol. His left hand immediately shot up to block the gun between his knife’s hilt and blade. The long, curved frontal hilt wasn’t typical of a regular combat knife. In fact, it more closely resembled a parrying dagger or Okinawan martial arts baton.

Algol used his knife to twist the gun outward. Deneb released the weapon to avoid a sprained wrist and swiftly retreated several meters before the gun hit the ground.

“What the hell was that?!” she screamed.

Algol cackled eerily.

“Didn’t know knives could be used like this?”

The long hilt allowed him to grapple with his opponent’s weapon, much like a parrying dagger. His combat style shone through his attachment to the blade.

“You knife maniac!” Deneb spat.

Algol cackled again.

“Doesn’t matter if this is a gun fight or a knife fight when someone’s as half-baked as you!”

He shifted, and only his shadow remained where he had stood. In the next moment, he appeared behind Deneb. Then, with a deft motion, he slashed diagonally. Deneb tried to parry with the knife in her left hand, but Algol subtly shifted the trajectory of his own weapon, intentionally clashing his blade with Deneb’s. He slid the knives together, placing the two in a deadlock. He took aim at Deneb’s exposed left side. Her face twisted with fear and urgency.

Canopus didn’t have the luxury to observe the battle between his subordinates. He couldn’t help even if he wanted to. He had the upper hand in his own battle for the moment, but he was still fighting three-on-one.

He countered Vega’s weighting magic with a similar spell of his own. He reflected Regulus’s Laser Sniping with Mirror Shield. He intercepted Arcturus’s Dancing Blades with Atomic Divider. Even for someone of Canopus’s caliber, engaging in battle against three first-rate soldiers was a challenge. This might have been less of a struggle if this were a real war and Canopus could fight at full capacity. If he could, he would have already defeated Vega.

Though Canopus and Vega were both captains, there was a difference in skill that went beyond their rank. Since the previous Sirius’s time, there had been rumors that Canopus may be the stronger captain when it came to close-range, ground combat. In a one-on-one matchup, Vega had no chance. Even now, she had trouble hiding an anxiety that had not been present when facing Lina.

Regulus was an opponent Canopus couldn’t afford to ignore, but—like Vega—he did not pose a true threat. The delay between casting and firing caused Laser Sniping to unfortunately fall short. Canopus was sure Regulus had more cards up his sleeve. He simply wasn’t using them, for whatever reason. With the lieutenant continuing to limit his tactics, Canopus didn’t find it too difficult to deal with him alongside Vega.

A two-on-one fight with Regulus and Vega was hardly concerning. It was Arcturus who was the most formidable opponent.

Captain Alexander Arcturus of Team 3 was a combat magician highly proficient in both mainstream modern magic and traditional Native American spirit magic. Though his parasite assimilation rendered him unable to wield spirit magic, he compensated for this loss by fully harnessing the parasite’s power. It provided him with combat strength that far outweighed the loss of spirit magic.

Deflecting Regulus’s lasers, Canopus pressed toward Vega. All of a sudden, he was forced to step back when a gust of wind rushed in from the side. It was Arcturus’s Wind Hammer. Though not lethal, its purpose was to disrupt an opponent’s stance. Canopus had to retreat more than five meters to evade the two-meter gust traveling at sixty meters per second.

As soon as he did, he was pursued by the shafts of flying spearheads. These were the piercing obsidian spearheads manifested by the spell Dancing Blades. Normally, this attack involved a knife-shaped CAD to ensure swift, easy, and reliable activation. But the caster of Dancing Blades didn’t need to use a weapon with CAD integration. It was the magician who activated the spell, not the CAD itself. No matter the form of magic, that fundamental rule remained absolute.

Dancing Blades manipulated the trajectory of any thrown weapon. It didn’t need to be a blade. It could even turn a roadside pebble into ammunition. Four spearheads flew in from different directions simultaneously. Canopus, wielding his katana-shaped device, used Atomic Divider to intercept them all.

Shattered obsidian fell to the ground. As the designated shape of the spearheads was compromised, Dancing Blades stopped animating them. But Arcturus’s assault didn’t end there. The rapid succession of his spells made it impossible for Canopus to pinpoint his concealed location.

Suddenly, bird feathers fluttered in the breeze. They were imitations of bald eagle feathers shaped like darts made from synthetic fibers and titanium needles. At high speeds, the extremely fine, powerful fibers could cut through human skin and even leather. Scores of them rode the wind, hurtling toward Canopus.

Arcturus, being quite proficient in both spirit and movement magic, was particularly adept at creating and manipulating air currents. His feathers sped along on these currents. Canopus’s Atomic Divider couldn’t interact with air—attempting to swat them away with his device would be futile. Instead, he countered with a spell that expanded compressed air to the point of explosion: Blast Wind. He then defended against the blast wave with a special fluid-based shield and flew once more at Vega.

Regulus watched Canopus from behind. Canopus’s attack just seemed…forced. The major was clearly struggling to overcome the unfair odds of the battle.

Just then, Vega cast a gravity-control spell, making a large, discarded training vehicle float in midair. Canopus swiftly brought down the airborne vehicle with weighting magic. Even as he ran, his control over his CAD didn’t waver. There was no question, however, that the vehicle had his full attention. Regulus saw his opening and pulled the trigger of his rifle-type integrated CAD. The activation sequence took under two seconds—exceptionally quick, even for an integrated CAD.

Regulus’s specialized CAD enhanced both the power and the speed of his magic. His casting only got quicker after merging with a parasite. However, the time required for amplifying his laser’s energy was indefinitely constrained by mechanical and physical factors. He could potentially reduce the time by initiating a higher-energy laser from the outset or using his parasite’s enhanced interference capabilities. This would, however, require him to increase the energy on his current device or develop a new one altogether.

It had been only three days since Regulus merged with a parasite—when would there have been time to upgrade his device? However, with Canopus’s focus on Vega, Regulus figured a counterattack posed no real threat.

Just as he was about to fire, Canopus disappeared from his scope. The major hadn’t become invisible; the scenery had simply changed. In place of Canopus’s silhouette, Regulus now saw his own surroundings mirrored back at him. He fired his laser.

His shot came back at the speed of light, making it impossible to see, let alone react to. In an instant, the one-eighty-degree angle of the reflected beam destroyed Regulus’s armament, and the burning fragments mangled his right eye. Screaming in pain, Regulus was out of the fight.

One down, Canopus thought, after hearing Regulus scream.

He hadn’t intentionally set a trap for his colleague. He had simply been trying to neutralize Vega without causing too much harm while keeping Regulus at bay. In other words, contrary to Regulus’s calculations, Canopus hadn’t allowed Vega to capture all of his attention.

With Regulus out of the way, the battle became much easier. Regulus wasn’t a particularly skilled magician, but the shift from a three-on-one to a two-on-one fight made all the difference.

Suddenly, Canopus’s ears were assaulted by two shrieks. He instinctually turned toward the sound, while putting some distance between himself and Vega. In the distance, Algol had stabbed Deneb in the side with his knife.

You went too far, Canopus scolded silently.

It wasn’t just Deneb who staggered and fell. A few moments later, Algol also collapsed toward her. Though he appeared to be pushing Deneb down, it was clear even from a distance that he wasn’t attacking.

From his position, Canopus couldn’t see Algol’s blood-soaked back. Had he taken a closer look, he would have been able to make it out, but he needed to stay alert for enemy attacks. All he knew was that Algol had been attacked by a third party. A third party who was now targeting Canopus himself.

A thin, piercing force field, formed by Atomic Divider, extended toward him. He slashed through it with his own magic.

Lieutenant Spica! Canopus gasped.

Canopus knew the attacker’s identity before she came into view. There was only one Stars member who used the modified version of Atomic Divider—Atomic Divider Javelin: Zoey Spica, first star lieutenant of Team 4. She was impeccably dressed in her summer uniform despite the early hour, and she was aiming her right hand directly at him.

The straight-edged metallic claw on the tip of her extended index finger served as a sighting device for Atomic Divider Javelin.

Once again, a thin, piercing atomic destruction force field extended toward Canopus. Atomic Divider Javelin made up for its narrow area of effect by increasing its reach and enabling ranged attacks. Canopus once again used Atomic Divider to block the spell just as it was about to hit him and swiftly cut through the gravitational field Vega had created to trap him.

Atomic Divider was not capable of cutting through gravity-controlling magic, however. Gravity-controlling magic altered the spatial property known as the “degree of distortion,” and Atomic Divider could modify spatial properties. Modifications to the gravitational field of space collided with modifications to the electromagnetic properties of space, and both spells were disrupted and broken down.

Suddenly, Canopus’s Atomic Divider was also disrupted as Arcturus’s tomahawk came flying his way. Canopus leaped sideways as fast as he could while reactivating the spell. The tomahawk sliced through his afterimage and crashed into the dry training ground just as he rolled to his feet. He didn’t even have a moment to recover as the tomahawk reversed its trajectory and came at him again.

This shouldn’t have been possible with Dancing Blades. Normally, the spell involved preprogramming the flight path of the user’s weapon rather than remote-control manipulation. Applying the concepts of spirit magic, though, Arcturus created a sort of sympathetic resonance with his tomahawk. This ability let him overwrite the initial Dancing Blades spell via psychological connection. Mastery of both modern and ancient magic gave him this ability.

Overwriting a magic definition always required increased interference. A new trajectory could be set five times at most. Dancing Blades, however, could send weapons in more than just straight lines or arcs. The spell allowed a weapon to go up, go down, and turn freely. Typically, changing the trajectory a mere three times during a single throw was enough to ensnare most enemies.

Once he merged with a parasite, Arcturus lost access to independent information entities called spirits and the magic that controlled them. That didn’t mean he lost his proficiency in ancient magic techniques, though. In fact, his skills in ancient magic, which did not rely on spirits, improved after assimilating with the parasite.

With an upward slash, Canopus intercepted Arcturus’s tomahawk, swinging his blade more like a staff than a sword. The attack lacked speed and power. Yet even as the tomahawk was magically enhanced by Arcturus’s thoughts, Canopus sliced clean through it.

Though it resembled a Japanese sword, Canopus’s weapon wasn’t meant for cutting through things. The blade was merely a guide; magic did most of the work. If he formed an atomic bond reversal field just right, any slight blade misalignment became inconsequential.

The tomahawk split into two and fell to the ground. Once it lost its defined form, even a weapon infused with its owner’s will would still fail, just like a regular combat device. Arcturus’s attacks came to a halt. Dancing Blades required a tangible weapon, and there was a limit to the amount of ammunition that could be prepared in advance. Arcturus had run out of gas.

Canopus still couldn’t pinpoint Arcturus’s location. However, the lull in attacks gave Canopus a chance to rid himself of his other two enemies: Vega and Spica. Spica’s Atomic Divider Javelin could initially catch opponents off guard, but now that Canopus knew the spell affected only a narrow range along a straight trajectory, dealing with it became much less difficult.

He decided to take down the more vulnerable Vega first. He cast a confinement spell on Spica, followed by what, at first glance, seemed to be an Atomic Divider attack at Vega. In reality, it was an ionized-air Plasma Bullet.

Vega was caught completely off guard and suffered a direct hit. Canopus kept the bullet density low to avoid any fatalities, but it was still powerful enough to temporarily paralyze his opponent. Vega slammed into the ground. She stayed conscious, but her limbs appeared to be frozen in place.

Canopus then turned in Spica’s direction. He would deal with her before taking on Arcturus. To his surprise, though, Arcturus now stood beside Spica.

“Major Canopus,” Arcturus said, “it’s about time you stopped resisting.”

Two more figures appeared—Lieutenants Ian Bellatrix and Samuel Alnilam, both from Team 6. They held Algol between them, his consciousness fading due to his injuries. Spica looked surprised by the three new members’ arrival. Clearly, not even she had anticipated the reinforcements.

“Are you taking me hostage?” Canopus spat, unafraid to show disgust.

Arcturus dodged the question.

“Lieutenant Shaula was just taken into custody. I believe your objective was to help Major Sirius escape? Well, you’ve succeeded. Risking any more casualties is meaningless.”

“The only meaningless thing here is the mutiny you started,” Canopus retorted.

Arcturus didn’t respond. Reason wouldn’t work on a parasite. Canopus relinquished his katana-shaped device.

“Fine,” he said. “I surrender.”

“Then I can guarantee your physical safety.”

“Only physical?” Canopus asked wryly.

“Major Canopus.” Arcturus’s voice lacked even a shred of amusement. “I have no intention of being allies.”

Contrary to Canopus’s expectations, he was taken not to a solitary confinement cell but to a private room for visiting senior officers from other departments. All his weapons were confiscated, of course, including his CAD and combat devices, but it didn’t seem like it would be too hard to escape. CADs were an essential tool for modern magicians, but casting spells was still possible without them. While casting could be hindered, there was no widespread method of blocking magic completely. Canopus had heard about special mental interference techniques that inhibited magic, but none of the Stars had them up their sleeves.

Possibilities aside, Canopus didn’t try to escape or even leave the room. Hours passed without any food, but he managed to get through the night with just the bottled mineral water in the refrigerator.

It was already past 9 PM when someone finally called for him. With Lieutenants Bellatrix and Alnilam in tow, he was escorted to the commander’s office. There was a single chair in front of the desk. Arcturus and Vega sat in similar chairs against the wall., while Major Capella, commander of Team 5, sat grimly behind the desk.

“Take a seat,” Commander Walker instructed.

Canopus saluted and sat before the commander’s desk.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Major Canopus. You are suspected of aiding in Lieutenant Ralph Hardy Milfak’s escape, injuring several Stars in the process.”

As Walker had expected, a look of surprise crossed Canopus’s face.

“It seems formal orders were properly issued for Major Sirius’s travel,” he explained. “Colonel Balance knew what she was doing.”

In other words, Balance’s orders had saved Lina from being accused of any wrongdoing. Canopus donned his usual poker face.

“I believe you are aware of the disagreement among the higher-ups about the Japanese strategic magician, Tatsuya Shiba,” the commander continued.

“I am.”

The USNA military’s top brass were sharply divided—treat Tatsuya as a threat and eliminate him, or exploit him as a political asset? The elimination faction aligned closely with those who viewed Japan as a threat in the Western Pacific, while the exploitation faction saw Japan as a potential ally to block the Pacific expansion of the Great Asian Alliance and New Soviet Union.

“Then, you of all people should understand that Tatsuya’s strategic magic is much too powerful for anyone to hope to exploit.”

“……”

Walker frowned briefly at Canopus’s silence but quickly resumed his usual professional speech.

“I, for one, believe Tatsuya Shiba should be eliminated. Captains Arcturus and Vega agree.”

“Commander,” Canopus interjected vaguely, “I worry about the health of those two.”

“It’s no secret, Major,” Arcturus chimed in. “Yes, I have merged with a parasite, but my loyalty to our country remains unchanged. In fact, it’s the core of my spirit.”

Capella, sitting across from him, didn’t bother to hide her frown.

“We are currently considering how to handle Captain Arcturus’s…situation,” Walker said.

This statement confirmed Canopus’s fear. Walker was undeniably under the influence of the parasites’ mental manipulation. It wasn’t puppetry exactly, but rather a form of suggestion. It paralyzed rationality by stimulating innate desires and fears to control the victim without their realizing it.

“You don’t seem to be in the elimination faction, Major,” the commander commented.

“Even if violence is inevitable, assassination is not the solution.”

“Please,” Walker scoffed. “You know such naïveté has no place in the real world.”

“I don’t see why we can’t be idealistic,” Canopus countered.

He wasn’t completely against dirty tactics. He knew there were situations where principles alone wouldn’t solve the problem.

At the same time, moderation was key. Acting on “necessity” was an excuse that, if applied without limits, could easily turn a military into a violent mob. Canopus had learned this lesson well.

“Would you consider striking a deal, Major?” Walker had clearly given up on persuasion.

“Are you suggesting a plea bargain?” Canopus asked tentatively. He wanted to make sure they weren’t suggesting anything illegal.

“Precisely,” Walker confirmed.

Canopus sighed with relief. Walker took advantage of this opening to seize control of the negotiation.

“If a military trial is convened for you, the general staff will inevitably intervene, given the unique nature of our unit. Under the current circumstances, your trial would likely devolve into a debate between the two factions regarding Tatsuya. Such a scenario would exacerbate tensions and could cause serious disruptions in military operations.”

Canopus didn’t disagree with this. In fact, it seemed like a very plausible outcome. Nevertheless, there was little likelihood of the military becoming dysfunctional due to the division over Tatsuya’s fate. The higher-ups were not foolish enough to let that happen.

Under regular circumstances, Canopus would have fought back. However, once a superior had the upper hand, it was difficult to disagree. Even if that superior was not completely himself.

“If you admit your personal negligence resulted in Lieutenant Regulus’s injury, we will deem Lieutenant Milfak missing in action, rather than labeling him a deserter,” the commander said. “We can even promise to go easy on Lieutenants Algol and Shaula’s sentences.”

“And what would be my punishment?” Canopus asked, knowing argument would be futile.

“Imprisonment for one year.”

That was a fairly heavy sentence for a plea bargain. But Canopus was a serious obstacle for the parasites. A year of imprisonment was a convenient way to keep him from interfering.

“Also,” Walker continued, “I’d like to process your sentence as an undercover mission. This way, it won’t tarnish your military record, and your family won’t worry unnecessarily.”

“All right,” Canopus conceded. “On two conditions.”

“Of course. I’m happy to accommodate within reason.”

The commander seemed surprisingly flexible. It was unclear whether his subconscious was resisting the parasitic thought manipulation or if he simply recognized Canopus’s strategic value. Both seemed equally plausible.

“I’d like you to put me in Midway Prison.”

“Are you sure?” Walker asked in surprise.

He studied the major’s face, trying to glean his motives. The military prison on Midway Island was one of the most isolated and least desirable facilities, reserved for serious offenders.

“Wouldn’t that be more convenient for you, Commander?” Canopus quipped.

A frown flickered about Walker’s face before he quickly masked any sign of displeasure.

“Fine. You have my word,” he responded. “And the second condition?”

“I would like Lieutenants Algol and Shaula to be imprisoned with me.”

“At Midway Prison, you mean,” Walker scoffed.

Canopus remained unfazed.

“Yes. I believe you said they would be punished, too.”

“You have yourself a deal.” Walker nodded solemnly. “Major Capella will escort the three of you to Midway.”

Captains Arcturus and Vega exchanged satisfied smiles. Across from them, Captain Capella remained visibly upset to the very end.

Canopus, Algol, and Shaula’s confinement at Midway Prison was formally finalized the next day. Though the unusually swift procedure raised eyebrows at the Pentagon, no one, including Colonel Balance, questioned the decision.

It was Sunday morning, June 23, 2097, and Angelina Kudou Shields—also known as Angie Sirius, the commander of the USNA Stars—found herself aboard a small VTOL aircraft.

Angelina, Lina for short, had been branded a traitor by her colleagues-turned-parasites and had nearly been assassinated at the Stars’ main base. With the help of Colonel Balance, who had secretly allied with the Yotsuba family, Lina escaped to Japan. Until a couple of days ago, she had been staying with the Kurobas, a Yotsuba branch family. She then spent the previous night at Tatsuya and Miyuki’s apartment.

She was now on her way to Miyaki—an island located about ninety kilometers south of the Boso Peninsula and about fifty kilometers east of Miyake Island. Since it was formed by underwater volcanic activity at the start of the 2000s, Miyaki was also known as the twenty-first-century New Island. Though small, its area had grown to eight square kilometers, about the size of Tokyo’s Kunitachi City. This was to be Lina’s new refuge.

Miyaki was private land owned by the Yotsuba family. Technically, a real estate company controlled by the Yotsuba family owned it, but this was merely a formality. Its unique history made it such an attractive property.

Miyaki Island originally served as a supply base for the National Defense Force. However, repeated eruptions in the 2050s forced the military to abandon the base. After the end of World War III, also known as the Twenty Years’ Global War Outbreak, the island was converted into a secret prison exclusively for military and civilian magicians. The Yotsuba family, being the only ones who could control the imprisoned magicians, was entrusted with managing the island. This responsibility eventually led to the Yotsuba family acquiring Miyaki in its entirety.

However, an eruption in January 2093 on the eastern side of the island prompted considerations to relocate the prison. By 2095, a new location for the prison was decided. Then, in May 2097—just one month prior—the prison was completed, and all its prisoners were successfully transferred. While the four-person residential facility still needed renovations, the supervisor’s quarters were ready to be occupied at any time.

On the eastern side of the island, there had been plans to construct a magic research facility in April. It was only recently that the head of the Yotsuba family decided instead to build a magic nuclear fusion energy plant for Tatsuya’s ESCAPES Plan there.

Tatsuya and Miyuki were on board the same small VTOL as Lina. Their primary objective was to monitor the commander and guide her around the island. For Tatsuya, however, visiting Miyaki Island also provided the perfect opportunity to inspect the construction site for his energy plant.

The decision to execute the ESCAPES Plan on Miyaki was made at the end of the previous month. Tatsuya had visited the island several times before and was familiar with the terrain and climate, but he had never thought about building something there. He now needed to see whether there were any natural conditions that could stand in the way of his plan.

“We have almost reached our destination,” Hyougo—the VTOL’s pilot— informed the group.

The VTOL could hold a maximum of six people in addition to the pilot, and there was no partition between the cockpit and the passenger seats. Hyougo’s voice reached Tatsuya and the others directly, much like in a car.

“This island is pretty big,” Lina noted, though she had no point of comparison—she had never seen any others. “I’m surprised it has such so much infrastructure.”

“I guess it is unusual,” Miyuki mused.

Though Miyuki had been to the island once before, she couldn’t hide her amazement at how drastically things had changed. During her last visit, the landscape had been so bleak.

“So have you been here before?” Lina asked.

“Yes.” Miyuki nodded. “A little over four years ago.”

Back then, the island had been mostly black volcanic rock and sand, with only a cluster of prison facilities along the western coast. Now there was an airport with a short runway in the north and a desalination plant to the south. A geothermal power plant had been built in the central part of the island near some foothills, and over ten mid-rise buildings stood parallel to the east.

The change in scenery surprised Tatsuya, too. Though in a different way than it did Miyuki.

That looks like a reaction stone refinery, he thought. And there’s even a large data center.

Tatsuya noticed a building that bore the familiar FLT facility features. Suddenly, it all made sense. These were the new Yotsuba headquarters.

Maya hadn’t directly said anything about this to Tatsuya. He had simply received permission to use Miyaki Island for the ESCAPES Plan energy plant. Then again, his plan did not technically prohibit the creation of a second home base. Maya clearly intended to build an open experimental plant on the island while simultaneously constructing a closed research facility next door. Moreover, she was probably planning to recruit exceptionally talented researchers working on the ESCAPES Plan into the Yotsuba ranks. This would be a perfect way to advance the family’s magic technology to greater heights.

Hyougo landed at the heliport. The runway wasn’t long enough for large aircrafts, but it could easily accommodate small jets carrying up to fifty passengers. The fact that landings here were not only limited to VTOLs and STOVLs proved the Yotsuba family’s commitment to Miyaki’s development. That said, there was still no railway or monorail. Hyougo had to drive Tatsuya, Miyuki, and Lina in a self-driving car provided by the Mashibas, one of the Yotsuba branch families that managed the magician prison.

The party headed toward the island’s western coast. After circling around the small active volcano, they arrived at the prison management staff’s residential building. The landscape along the drive was the same as it had been on earlier visits. Lava fields and rocky coastlines lined either side of the freeway. It seemed the Yotsuba family had focused their development more on the eastern side, opposite the prison.

Half of the island’s prison staff plus the four residential guards had relocated with the prisoners to the new facility in the east. Only the operating personnel had stayed behind. The Yotsuba family had also maintained the residential building to be ready for new occupants to move in at any time.

“This looks more like a condo than a hotel,” Lina commented, glancing around her new home.

Miyuki and Tatsuya didn’t disagree.

“It’s already stocked with food and a fridge, so there shouldn’t be much more you need other than clothes,” Tatsuya said.

“Right…” Lina said awkwardly.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about Tatsuya worrying about her clothes. It probably didn’t help that Milfak made an uncannily similar comment right before her escape from the USNA.

“This facility is not only equipped with residential spaces.” Hyougo spoke like a tour guide. “It also has storage, training rooms, and recreational areas. Would you like to see those as well?”

Tatsuya glanced at Lina to gauge her reaction.

“…Sure,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I’d love the grand tour.”

The group had traveled to Miyaki Island to see whether the prison facilities could work as Lina’s hiding place. If she didn’t like it, the Yotsuba family would be happy to prepare another safe house for her, albeit one with potentially lower security. Lina, however, mistakenly assumed she had no other option. She’d asked for the tour mostly out of obligation.

Once the tour of the facilities was over and they returned to her room, she turned to Tatsuya.

“Is it really okay for me to stay here?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

Considering Tatsuya didn’t own the space, he felt strange relaying the assurance. Not responding to a question so clearly directed at him, however, would have been much more awkward.

“Feels like I’d be punished if I didn’t,” Lina said with a tired sigh.

After all the surprises she had been through, her exhaustion was more mental than physical. The Miyaki Island facilities and her new room were by no means luxurious, but they provided everything she needed and left nothing to be desired. Other than the inability to go outside, her new room was possibly even more comfortable than her quarters at the Stars base. It was also a far cry from the restrictive life on the run she had imagined.

“By the way,” she ventured anxiously, “are you sure it was okay to show me that thing?”

Hyougo’s guided tour didn’t just include the prison facilities. They visited the research labs currently under construction. After touring the residential facilities, Tatsuya, Miyuki, and Lina took a prison helicopter to the eastern part of the island. As usual, Hyougo piloted. He seemed unwilling to entrust his role as Tatsuya’s chauffeur to anyone else. This was not so much because he didn’t trust the prison staff. He was simply dedicated to Tatsuya, despite having served him for only two months.

Hyougo then guided the group to their last location: the reaction stone refinery Tatsuya had noticed from the VTOL. Reaction stones were the core of CAD systems. The basic methods of manufacturing them were widely known. Military CAD technologies developed without patent protection, on the other hand, were not public information. That said, increased tech leaks between allied countries rendered such secrecy meaningless.

Of course, this was still only basic technology. High-performance reaction stones could not be refined using well-known, elementary manufacturing processes. Reaction stones were components used to convert psion signals into electrical signals and vice versa. However, not all stones converted signals in the same way. Their performance and efficiency varied depending on design and level of completion.

Some reaction stones excelled at converting psion signals to electrical signals, while those refined on different production lines excelled more at the inverse—converting electrical signals to psion signals. Other stones were best at converting weak signals, while some were better at faithfully reproducing signals.

Germany’s Rosen Magicraft, followed closely by Britain’s MacGregor Wand and the United States’ Maximilian Devices, were highly acclaimed for the cumulative abilities of their reaction stones. When it came to accurately replicating psion signals, however, Japan’s FLT led the pack. Not much was known about the performance of reaction stones manufactured directly by military or national research institutions.

The stones’ exact design was considered critical intellectual property for each nation’s company, and revealing a reaction stone refinery to outsiders was unthinkable in the magic industry. It made sense that seeing one of Japan’s factories put Lina on edge.

“If you know what it is, then you should know not to approach it irresponsibly,” Tatsuya said.

“I would never,” Lina said, frowning.

Her tone was unsure. There was no telling how long she would need to hide on the island. Should her exile last long enough, her caution was bound to dwindle. Without knowledge of where the reaction stone facility was, she couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility of inadvertently stepping into it and causing unnecessary trouble.

“Fair enough,” Tatsuya replied casually.

He then signaled silently to Hyougo, who handed the high schooler a stylish envelope.

“Here’s the key to your room.”

“Th-thanks.”

Lina opened the envelope to check its contents and found a single gold IC card.

“That card gives you access to all the facilities on this island, including restaurants and stores,” Tatsuya explained. “We can give you another one if you lose it, but it’d be a bit of a hassle.”

“All right,” Lina replied. “I won’t let it out of my sight.”

She clutched the card like her life depended on it.

“You can use the landline in your room to call if you need anything,” Tatsuya continued. “And I’m not the only one you can call. Feel free to direct your concerns to Miyuki or Ayako. The phone is connected to the Yotsuba main house, too.”

“Got it.”

“Any other questions?”

“Not that I can think of,” Lina said with a shake of her head. “I’ll call if I have any problems.”

“Great.”

Tatsuya turned to Miyuki, who had been standing behind him. She now took a step forward to speak.

“We will see you later, Lina. Take it easy, and I will be sure to visit again.”

“Thank you.” Lina waved shyly. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Miyuki waved back with a gentle smile.

“Master Tatsuya, there is one more thing I would like you to see.”

Hyougo called to him on his way to the parking lot. Tatsuya had no other plans for the day.

“All right,” he replied.

Hyougo led Tatsuya and Miyuki to a garage next to the runway. Inside, there was only one vehicle—a short-nosed four-wheeler painted a pale blue color.

“This is an interesting design,” Tatsuya noted. “It has the feel of a mid-engine but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

The vehicle’s midsection housed a power unit, but it wasn’t an engine. While hydrogen or ethanol engines might justify a mid-engine layout, electric vehicles typically had motors in the front, rear, or within each wheel. In that sense, this design resembled an electric vehicle much more closely.

“It is called an Aircar,” Hyougo explained.

“A car that runs on flying magic?” Tatsuya asked, impressed.

“Precisely. Its development began two years ago alongside the flying motorcycle Wingless, but I understand it was only completed last month thanks to the technology you provided.”

In April, Tatsuya had devised a new flight magic scheme for large objects. However, he had been so busy that he submitted only a rough draft to the main family before pushing it to the back of his mind. He never imagined his ideas would take shape like this.

“The Aircar has been registered for use on public roads, so you can use it for your daily needs,” Hyougo continued.

“Can I use it to travel to and from this island?”

“Of course. Just give me a call, and I can deliver it to you immediately.”

“Why don’t you give it a try, Tatsuya?” Miyuki suggested.

Tatsuya thought for a beat.

“Not today.”

It wasn’t that he had no interest in the vehicle. He just didn’t want to leave Miyuki unattended. Taking the Aircar for a test drive while Miyuki was at school would give him much more peace of mind.

“I’ll try it out tomorrow,” he said to Hyougo.

“Excellent,” the butler replied. “I shall inform the mechanic.”

While Tatsuya’s group was visiting Miyaki Island, a minor commotion was stirring at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Defense. Though it was a Sunday, the USNA had made a discreet request through diplomatic channels to seek Japan’s cooperation in locating Major Angie Sirius. Once Japanese officials had secured her location, they would hand her over to the embassy.

Japan rebuked the USNA for allowing senior officers to enter their country without prior notice, but the USNA protested that the major’s visit was not for military purposes. Blatant lie though that was, Japan could not legally press the matter further. The Japanese government ultimately assured the USNA of their commitment to locating Angie Sirius.

“The American request is bold, but it seems justified,” Kazama said. “What I would like to know is why they’re specifically asking the 101st Brigade to do this.”

“Colonel Kazama,” Saeki said, frustrated, “I am just as exhausted as you are, so could you please stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on?”

“Forgive me.” Kazama bowed solemnly, but he had an amused look in his eyes.

Saeki shot him a glare, but the lieutenant colonel didn’t offer any further apologies. Saeki had no choice but to back down.

“You know Major Sirius is currently under the Yotsuba family’s care,” she said with a sigh.

“I heard the Yotsuba family informed you directly.”

“It was more of a warning than anything.”

“Let me guess. They told you they had Angie Sirius, and they want the National Defense Force to stay out of it,” Kazama guessed.

“Something like that.” Saeki nodded bitterly.

This time, Kazama returned her sentiment.

“What are the odds Specialist Ooguro is involved?”

“High,” Saeki replied. “Looks like we’re suspecting the same thing.”

Both she and Kazama were aware of what had happened between Specialist Ooguro (aka Tatsuya) and Angie Sirius (aka Lina) the previous winter. Angie Sirius was the USNA’s strategic-class magician. Kazama and Saeki concluded Tatsuya’s involvement was the only conceivable reason the Yotsuba family would protect her. While their logic was sound, their reasoning was unfortunately wrong. They were unaware of the secret agreement between the Yotsuba family and Colonel Balance.

“Do you think the USNA will demand that Specialist Ooguro—I mean, Tatsuya—hand Major Sirius over?” Kazama asked.

“I’m sure they’ll have to relinquish her to the States eventually.”

Her response didn’t directly answer Kazama’s question, but he understood what she meant. Ultimately, Lina would probably be used as leverage in some kind of deal.

Since Sirius was a strategic-class magician, she was also an important trump card. Though it was unlikely she was the USNA’s only one, a trump card was still a threat. The USNA would surely do whatever it took to get her back—or dispose of her.

“I wonder why Sirius had to flee the USNA,” Kazama mused.

Strategic-class magicians were major assets, but they were also massive potential risks. It was important to carefully manage them so their loyalties remained with their country of origin. Kazama’s question implied something must have gone wrong with this management.

“Unfortunately, we still don’t know the details.”

The National Defense Force, of course, had its share of spies in the United States. The USNA may have been an ally, but that didn’t exempt them from Japanese espionage. Anyone who believed alliances were eternal and absolute had no business engaging in military or political affairs.

However, this relationship was a two-way street. Just as Japan was wary of American spies, the USNA was also—if not more—cautious about Japanese surveillance. As a result, any information related to the escape of a strategic magician would be heavily protected.

“Isn’t it dangerous to get involved without that kind of information?” Kazama asked.

“Of course it is,” Saeki affirmed. “Which is why we must ask the girl directly.”

Kazama couldn’t explain why, but the idea made him feel uneasy.

“I’ll ask Tatsuya if we can see her,” he said.

“Do we really need his permission?”

Kazama didn’t seem to understand. Saeki continued.

“Just tell Specialist Ooguro to hand Major Angie Sirius over.”

“And if he refuses?” Kazama posed.

“I would hate to resort to violence,” the general said. “But he should be careful not to underestimate the National Defense Force’s desire to have Sirius out of the country.”

In other words, the 101st Brigade wouldn’t support Tatsuya even if the Japanese or American government tried to seize Sirius.

“Understood,” Kazama replied simply.

He doubted Tatsuya was counting on them for support in the first place. He also understood Saeki’s rationale—even military personnel like themselves couldn’t shelter foreign agents without government asylum. Nevertheless, he had reservations about the major general’s decision to consider using force.

Tatsuya and Miyuki returned to Tokyo from Miyaki Island very late in the afternoon. They stopped by their apartment only briefly before heading to visit Minami at the hospital. Along the way to her room, they passed several Juumonji family magicians outside and Yotsuba family magicians within the premises. They were all there for Minami’s protection, but Tatsuya pretended not to notice them. While making their presence obvious could have been beneficial to Minami’s protection, the magicians’ discreet behavior hinted that their top priority was to capture Minoru.

Tatsuya had no intention of compromising this strategy, but Miyuki was a different story.

“I wish they would keep a closer watch on Minami’s room,” Miyuki muttered with a frown.

But by the time Tatsuya knocked on Minami’s room door, Miyuki had completely suppressed her complaints.

“Mind if we come in, Minami?” Tatsuya asked.

“Not at all.”

“Please don’t.”

“Is Miyuki with you?!”

Tatsuya and Miyuki exchanged glances. The three voices that called out in response were all familiar, but only one belonged to Minami. Tatsuya opened the door to find two identical faces with opposing expressions at Minami’s bedside. The unabashedly upset face belonged to Kasumi Saegusa. The one with a joyful smile was Izumi Saegusa. The Saegusa twins—Tatsuya and Miyuki’s juniors at First High.

“Did you two come to visit Minami, too?” Miyuki asked.

“Yes.” Izumi nodded. “We’re her classmates, after all. It would be so cavalier to guard her without even visiting once.”

The Saegusa family had been assigned to intercept and capture Minoru Kudou. Technically speaking, their mission had nothing to do with protecting Minami. But Minami didn’t need to know that.

“That is very kind of you.” Miyuki smiled simply.

Perhaps their visit had nothing to do with their assigned roles. Maybe they were simply there as Minami’s friends. If so, Miyuki was truly grateful.

“Oh my gosh! I’m not worthy of your praise!” Izumi squealed with her hands over her heart.

It was an overdramatic reaction, but she was being serious in her own way. Neither Tatsuya nor Miyuki rolled their eyes. They simply looked on with a smile. Minami, sitting up on her bed, awkwardly averted her gaze. The only one who gave Izumi a cold look was Kasumi. The twins moved back to allow Tatsuya and Miyuki to take their spots at Minami’s bedside.

“How are you feeling, Minami?” Tatsuya asked.

Since there was only one stool at the head of Minami’s bed, both Tatsuya and Miyuki remained standing.

“I’m starting to feel like myself again, slowly but surely,” Minami replied.

She didn’t explicitly mention her sensory loss, since Kasumi and Izumi didn’t know about it. Physically, she was clearly regaining strength. She didn’t even need a medical exoskeleton anymore. Sensory issues, on the other hand, weren’t as apparent.

“What a relief.” Miyuki sighed with a reassured hand to her chest.

“That’s great to hear.” Tatsuya grinned. “I know I may sound like a broken record, but make sure you take all the time you need to recover.”

“Of course.” Minami nodded.

She didn’t seem to be in a rush—at least not visibly.

“What did the doctor say?” Miyuki asked.

“I should be able to leave the hospital in about two weeks,” Minami replied calmly.

“Does that include rehab?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Another two weeks would bring Minami’s total stay in the hospital to one month. As Tatsuya listened to Miyuki and Minami’s conversation, he wondered whether he should bring Pixie home to assist with Minami’s rehabilitation process.

“Oh, well, you won’t have to worry about that,” Miyuki said quickly. “We’re happy to help with your rehab at home.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that!” Minami gasped, her composure lost.

It was definitely not the time to bring this up but hearing Minami’s usual tone reassured Tatsuya of her gradual recovery.

“I want you to rely on us.” Miyuki pouted slightly, but this didn’t seem to help.

“It’s just…” Minami began awkwardly.

“Miyuki,” Izumi intervened in an uncharacteristically gentle manner. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to help with Minami’s rehab once she leaves the hospital.”

“You would?” Miyuki asked in surprise.

“Yes.” The twin nodded. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be, but I want to do what I can.”

Tatsuya knew that doubting Izumi’s true intentions wasn’t very nice. He convinced himself that Izumi was being driven by her concern for Minami as a classmate, not by her desire to intrude into Miyuki’s home. Kasumi, on the other hand, had no qualms about voicing similar suspicions.

“Izumi,” she scolded, “you better not be thinking of using Sakurai as an excuse to hang out at the student council president’s house.”

“H-how rude!” Izumi sputtered. “I would never have such awful thoughts!”

Unfortunately, her tone and expression completely gave her away. Although she didn’t turn away from her sister’s suspicious gaze, she avoided eye contact.

“Don’t worry, Miyuki,” Kasumi said. “I’ll be with Izumi when she visits.”

“Thank you. Both of you,” Miyuki replied with an awkward smile.

With that, Kasumi basically pulled Izumi out of the hospital room. Once the twins were gone, Minami, Tatsuya, and Miyuki exchanged knowing smiles. Izumi was a lot, but they couldn’t bring themselves to dislike her. In front of her classmates, she behaved like an elegant, demure class beauty. Among friends, however, she was simply endearing, despite her eccentricities.

Tatsuya brought a stool from the corner of the room and sat at Minami’s bedside. Miyuki took a seat on the stool already by the bed.

“No matter their reasons, I’m glad the twins came to visit,” Miyuki whispered.

Tatsuya agreed wholeheartedly. To most of the Saegusa family, Minami was nothing more than bait to catch Minoru. Not that anyone could blame them. They were simply following the Master Clans Council’s orders—there was no other reason for them to get involved. Kouichi Saegusa may have had his own reasons to willingly join the fray, but all the other Saegusa magicians saw Minami only as a pawn, no more and no less.

“Those two probably weren’t cut out for that life,” Tatsuya said vaguely, but Miyuki understood what he was getting at.

In other words, Kasumi and Izumi weren’t suited for leadership roles in the Master Clan they were born into. Their elder sister, Mayumi, wasn’t much of a better fit, but she did prioritize her duty and position over all else. Kasumi and Izumi, on the other hand, were more likely to prioritize justice over their position and compassion over duty. In short, they were what most people would call “kindhearted.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Miyuki said. “In fact, I’m a little jealous.”

The two exchanged glances. They were clearly on the same page.

“By the way, Minami,” Tatsuya said, already switching gears.

“Yes?” Minami replied calmly.

“Has anything strange happened since the incident?”

“You mean, has Minoru tried to contact me since then?”

“It doesn’t just have to be Minoru,” Tatsuya said.

“Well, no. I haven’t had any suspicious guests since then.” Minami paused and then added, “Not during my waking hours, at least.”

“I don’t believe Minoru has given up on trying to help you,” Miyuki said anxiously. “Tatsuya, do you think he could be planning something or gathering support of some kind?”

“It’s possible.”

A week had passed since Minoru’s attack, and it was unlikely he had been inactive this whole time. Although Tatsuya hadn’t confirmed it yet, Minoru seemed to have inherited knowledge from Gongjin Zhou that surpassed the limits of magic.

Since the Kudou family and all the other “Nine” families were unlikely to betray the Master Clans Council, it would be challenging for Minoru to recruit allies from there. Minions from Gongjin’s intelligence network, however, were a different story.

“Maybe I should ask Aunt Maya to teach me how to seal parasites,” Tatsuya murmured.

Miyuki and Minami gave him apprehensive looks. Minami’s unease stemmed from her worry that Tatsuya would use the parasite-sealing ritual on Minoru. Miyuki, however, had a different concern.

“Do you think Minoru is trying to spread the parasites like last winter’s vampire incident?”

“I doubt Minoru would attack people indiscriminately,” Tatsuya replied. “But I know he isn’t the only one who desires power enough to willingly give up their humanity. In fact, finding people like that might not be as hard as it seems.”

Neither Miyuki nor Minami disagreed. It wasn’t that they believed everything Tatsuya said—they both simply understood that human weakness.

“Oh!” Miyuki exclaimed suddenly. “We forgot to tell Erika and the others about this whole thing.”

“You’re right.” Tatsuya nodded. “That was careless of me.”

Erika, Leo, and Mikihiko had met Minoru the previous autumn as allies, not enemies. They wouldn’t bat an eye if Minoru appeared in front of them. Moreover, Minoru could conceal the presence of his parasite. Even if Mikihiko happened to recognize it, Erika and Leo would likely be deceived. Not foreseeing the possibility of Minoru manipulating the three was careless to say the least.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I am as much to blame,” Miyuki said. “Shall I be the one to inform them of the situation?”

“No, I’ll talk to them,” Tatsuya said. “I’m taking the Aircar on a test run tomorrow during the day. Wait for me at Einebrise after school.”

“Are you sure you want to go there?” Miyuki asked.

Going to Einebrise meant questions from the owner.

“Absolutely.” Tatsuya nodded. “It’s much safer than talking on campus, where we could be overheard. Besides, we might need to ask the owner for help.”

Tatsuya had heard the Einebrise owner’s father was a skilled information broker while he himself dabbled in information trading. He wasn’t sure if this was true, but he knew the owner’s activities were not entirely respectable. Miyuki may not have realized it, but Tatsuya sensed that some of the owner’s business was under the table.

“How could the owner help?” Miyuki asked before quickly shaking her head. “Actually, never mind. I trust you.”

She decided not to pry into the owner’s identity. If there was something she needed to know, Tatsuya would tell her. The reason he had not divulged anything so far was surely because he decided she was better left in the dark for now.

“I will take Erika, Leo, and Mikihiko to Einebrise, as you wish.”

Miyuki paused before adding: “Would it be all right to bring Honoka, Shizuku, and Mizuki, as well?”

“I don’t want to involve too many people.” Tatsuya paused. “But I guess it would be riskier not to tell them. Fine. Bring the whole gang.”

“All right.”

The siblings nodded before turning to stare at Minami in silence.

“What is it?” Minami asked nervously.

“Sorry for the sudden question,” Miyuki began cautiously, “but how do you feel about Minoru?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Minami blushed. She froze up.

“I think Minoru likes you,” Miyuki said.

“He likes me?!”

Unable to think straight, Minami could only echo Miyuki’s words.

“Do you like him back?”

“Me?! Like him?!” Minami yelled despite herself. “I—I could never…!”

“You just haven’t thought about it before,” Tatsuya corrected. “Do you like him? Dislike him? Utterly indifferent toward him? Or have you never thought of him that way?”

“We are not simply asking you this out of idle curiosity,” Miyuki said firmly.

“……”

Minami fell silent. She didn’t understand why they were putting her on the spot like this, much less how she should answer.

“I don’t think you dislike him,” Miyuki continued, “but if you’re in love with him…”

“We need you to be prepared,” Tatsuya said, completing his sister’s sentence.

“You mean…you want me to get ready to fight him?” Minami asked.

“No. We’ll be the ones fighting,” Tatsuya said firmly. “I’d like to avoid killing him, if possible, but I’m not going to be the only one on the battlefield.”

Minami nodded. No one had told her the Juumonji and Saegusa families would be supporting the Yotsuba clan in the fight against Minoru, but she had a feeling that, at the very least, the Saegusa family would be involved.

It helped that Izumi mentioned her role as Minami’s bodyguard. But even if she hadn’t, Minami wasn’t the type to get visited by her classmates, the Saegusa twins.

“Besides, Minoru is strong,” Tatsuya continued. “Trying to subdue him without fighting serious would be foolish.”

“You must do what is required of you. I understand,” Minami replied.

“I don’t doubt you understand the situation, but how do you feel about it?”

“……”

Minami didn’t know what to say.

“That’s what I mean by preparing yourself,” Tatsuya explained. “Minoru sacrificed his humanity to save you, but you didn’t ask him to do that. He made that choice selfishly.”

“……”

“Still,” Tatsuya continued, “it’s not an easy distinction to make. And now you know how he feels about you.”

“Right…” Minami replied, staring at the ground.

“Minami,” Miyuki interjected softly. “It is completely normal to be conflicted about this. Please do not feel bad.”

She gave Miyuki’s hand a squeeze.

“All right,” Minami replied with a weak smile.

“That said, if you do not reciprocate Minoru’s feelings, you must prepare for the worst.”

“In other words,” Tatsuya explained in clear-cut terms, “if we have to kill Minoru, you can’t intervene.”

He refused to let his sister say the awful truth out loud.

“What if I said I had feelings for him?” Minami asked.

“Then we’ll think of a way to avoid killing him,” Tatsuya replied. He paused before adding, “But there will probably be sacrifices along the way.”

Minami paled and apologetically tried to jump to her feet.

“I’m sorry! That was a foolish question!”

“Calm down,” Miyuki said, catching Minami before she fell. Her legs were still not strong enough to handle sudden movements.

“It wasn’t foolish,” Tatsuya said. “It’s natural to be thrown off by something like this when you’ve never thought about your own feelings.”

“It’s not that!” Minami said, still in Miyuki’s arms.

She looked up at Tatsuya, eyes blazing with steady resolution.

“I’m not in love with Minoru.”

Tatsuya could tell she was speaking impulsively. She probably wouldn’t admit that, even if he pointed it out.

He simply nodded and said, “All right.”

It was Monday, June 24. As planned the previous day, Tatsuya was visiting Miyaki Island again. The main purpose of his visit was to test the Aircar, but there was nothing noteworthy about the test itself. The vehicle performed as expected across the board.

“I didn’t expect it to drive underwater, too,” Tatsuya marveled.

“The engineers claim it’s airtight enough to even travel in space,” Hyougo said. “Unfortunately, its gravity-interference mechanism that enables flight does not function well at altitudes above six thousand kilometers.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan to use it for space travel,” Tatsuya quipped sarcastically.

He noticed the Aircar had only two doors, which slid backward rather than opening sideways. The windows were also thick and fixed into the doors.

“Let me guess,” Tatsuya continued. “The two-door style helps minimize the vehicle’s openings and improve the seal?”

“Precisely.” Hyougo nodded. “The Aircar is intended for use on land, at low altitudes, and over water, so please keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on taking it into the stratosphere or underwater unless absolutely necessary,” Tatsuya reassured him.

“Perfect.” The butler nodded. “As a precaution, I recommend using the vehicle’s water-travel mode for commuting between this island and the mainland.”

“The mode that automatically maintains an altitude of several dozen centimeters?”

“Precisely. Since you have a small vessel license for maritime navigation, you should not encounter any issues with the authorities.”

“Sounds good.”

At eighteen, Tatsuya had acquired both a four-wheeled vehicle license and a small vessel license without maritime restrictions. Naturally, the Aircar didn’t require a boating license. But in water-travel mode, the vehicle worked like a hovercraft. Tatsuya could easily claim that type of use was covered by his small vessel license.

Worst-case scenario, I could always fly away, he thought.

But that was his lack of legal compliance talking.

Sensing that Tatsuya and Hyougo had finished their business, someone called out.

“Hey there.”

It was Lina. She had come along to observe the Aircar tests and was now standing to the side.

“What is it, Lina?” Tatsuya asked.

“Are you really sending me home?” Lina probed.

“What do you mean?”

“I just find it hard to believe you would send me back after showing me all of this military equipment.” She frowned.

“I still don’t follow,” Tatsuya said, confused. “The Yotsuba family are civilians, so this Aircar is no military secret.”

“That’s rich!” Lina spat. “The Yotsubas may not be part of the national armed forces, but you’re still a paramilitary organization.”

“That’s not true at all,” Tatsuya countered. “Sure, we sometimes make money through violence, but that’s just a side gig. If you want to classify the Yotsuba family, I would call it a research organization.”

“So the people fear you because of a side hustle? What a joke,” Lina scoffed.

“No one told them to fear us.” Tatsuya shook his head. “It’s not fair to fault us for that.”

“Can you blame them?!” Lina yelled. “The Yotsuba family can wipe out an entire fleet, base, and military port all in one strike!”

“That’s my power, not the Yotsubas’,” Tatsuya corrected.

Lina gave him an incredulous stare. She couldn’t believe he had casually referred to the ability to kill tens of thousands as “his power.” With those two words, he was acknowledging that he was personally responsible for taking a great many people’s lives.

At the same time, responsibility could be shared. The Scorching Halloween was an incident that occurred during a military conflict. As such, whoever was in command would have chosen how to use strategic-class magic. In other words, Tatsuya’s role in the debacle could be diminished by shifting blame to the superior officer who gave the orders.

Even if someone else was calling the shots, though, acknowledging the magic as his own power put the outcome at least partially in Tatsuya’s hands. They didn’t really need to debate responsibility. The fact remained: Tens of thousands were dead.

Could Tatsuya really be this oblivious? Lina wondered. No, there’s no way.

Tatsuya wasn’t the type to willfully ignore reality. Though Lina hadn’t known him for long, she understood that much. Tatsuya was perfectly sane yet casually acknowledged the fact that he was a mass murderer.

“…So I haven’t been shown any military secrets, which means I’m free to come and go as I please. Good to know.”

Lina ended things there. After all, she, too, was a strategic magician. Delving any deeper into the topic at hand could lead to an unpleasant discussion about herself.

“Anyway, Tatsuya, I have a request,” she continued.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll grant it, but ask away,” he replied.

They spoke inside a hangar. It might have been more appropriate to call it a garage, given the size and all the maintenance equipment, but the term hangar felt more fitting. In a corner, there was a patio table with four matching chairs. Tatsuya walked toward it with Lina in tow.

Hyougo pulled out a chair for Lina. Unable to refuse the offer, Lina sat down. Tatsuya took a seat across from her. Hyougo then brought over some iced tea. Tatsuya gave him a silent nod of thanks and turned his attention back to Lina.

“So what do you want?” he asked abruptly.

Lina flinched at Tatsuya’s directness but was careful to hide it.

“I’m not a prisoner, am I?” she asked carefully.

“Of course not,” he said.

“Then, give me back the CAD you took from me when I went to your house,” she demanded.

“Why?” Tatsuya asked.

Lina had expected this question, but that didn’t diminish how intimidating it was to be asked it.

She took a deep breath before replying, “I don’t like being unarmed.”

Depending on Tatsuya’s mood, this could be taken as a provocative statement. Lina shouldn’t have said anything to begin with—she was alone and under his protection. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse that wouldn’t cause trouble, and she refused to hide her true feelings when she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, Lina believed deep down that her somewhat selfish rationale wouldn’t upset Tatsuya. Although, if someone had accused her of harboring such thoughts, she would have denied it with reddened cheeks.

“I thought I was giving you a decent level of freedom,” Tatsuya said.

“I just need the CAD, okay?!”

Lina felt comfortable coming on so strong only because of the smile on Tatsuya’s face. She was unintentionally—or unconsciously—betting everything on his kindness.

“Interesting,” Tatsuya said, amused. “Well, I guess I can relate.”

“Great!” Lina exclaimed.

“But I can’t grant your request.”

“Why not?!”

“I can’t let you use a USNA military CAD in Japan,” Tatsuya explained. “It might have a contraption not even you are aware of.”

“Come on.” Lina groaned. Though her tone was amusing, she was dead serious.

“What I can do,” Tatsuya proposed, “is give you a different CAD.”

Lina’s eyes lit up.

“You have a CAD for me?” she asked excitedly.

“We have taken every measure to ensure the security of this facility, but we’re up against the USNA,” Tatsuya said. “In case of an emergency, you’ll need a means of self-defense.”

“Tatsuya,” Lina replied with a disgusted stare. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be a real bully?”

“It wasn’t a secret. You were just being impatient,” Tatsuya said, unfazed by Lina’s reaction.

“You’re so carefree,” Lina rebutted. “I need to have my guard up.”

She wasn’t wrong. And if she hadn’t been blushing so hard, Tatsuya might have given her credit.

“I’ve put your new CAD in the control room,” he said. “I can adjust it now, if you’d like.”

“You’re going to adjust it yourself?” Lina asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry. I do it all the time,” Tatsuya said.

“Oh, right. I guess you were part of Taurus Silver,” she said.

“Exactly.”

Tatsuya stood up and walked away from the table. Lina downed her iced tea and hurried after him.

Tatsuya and Lina moved from the Aircar hangar to a building next to the CAD factory—a research facility equipped with a reaction stone refinery. Sadly, their mode of transportation was not the Aircar but a hydrogen off-road vehicle.

Before entering the control room, Tatsuya took Lina to a small space resembling a conference room.

“I thought you could use these,” he said, showing Lina a thick gold choker and a silver bracelet.

“They don’t have any buttons,” Lina noted. “Are they FLT’s fully thought-operated CADs?”

“Spot on.”

“Well, everyone’s talking about them in the States,” Lina explained shyly.

Fully thought-operated CADs were first commercialized by Germany’s Rosen Magicraft, followed closely by Japan’s Four Leaves Technology. A third company had yet to emerge. That meant the only companies offering fully thought-operated CADs were Rosen and FLT, with the latter currently boasting a stronger reputation in the market.

“I know a few Stars members who are trying them out, but I haven’t used one myself,” Lina continued. “How does it work?”

Tatsuya was surprised to hear this. He thought Lina had a scientist or an engineer who had developed the tactical magic weapon Brionac for her. He had neither met nor even knew the name of this person, but seeing Brionac alone was more than enough proof of its creator’s technical prowess. Someone with those skills should easily be able to create a fully thought-operated CAD. Especially since the product was already on the market. It probably wouldn’t take much time, either.

Tatsuya decided to keep these thoughts to himself.

“FLT’s fully thought-operated CADs use technology developed from commercialized no-contact switches,” he explained.

“You mean they’re controlled by psion waves?” Lina marveled.

“Exactly.” Tatsuya nodded. “This choker-type CAD injects psions to produce a single activation sequence. That sequence is typeless magic that emits a highly focused psion wave at a chosen spot.”

“So all the user has to do is inject psions?”

“Right. Since the CAD’s activation sequence is limited to one type, it works like a switch. The control device in the choker is more semiautomatic than thought-operated, though.”

“It works like a combat device, then,” Lina mused.

“Right again. The bracelet is designed to unlock the suspension when linked with the choker’s control device.”

“How do I use it?”

“The choker’s activation sequence is designed to target the bracelet’s internal switch. Just mentally input the number of the spell you want to cast into your typeless magic formula, and the bracelet will give you your sequence.”

“…The activation sequence will show up just by thinking about the number of the spell I want to use?”

“Put simply, yes.”

“That’s amazing! Manually operating a CAD is the hardest part for magicians in close combat.”

CADs were tools that sped up spell activation. By using them to establish a magic sequence, magicians gained the power to confront large numbers of armed soldiers head-on. Unfortunately, the various steps required to operate CADs could also be a catastrophic weakness in a crisis. Specialized CADs were designed to make up for this disadvantage, but in doing so, they limited the types of magic that could be used.

FLT’s fully thought-operated CADs addressed all these issues. Rosen’s similar product integrated thought-operated mechanisms into specialized CADs. FLT’s version, on the other hand, separated the control device from the part that performed the primary role of the CAD. Although this made it necessary for users to carry two devices, FLT’s approach met the need for both hands-free operation and a large range of tactics.

“I’m glad you like it,” Tatsuya said. “You can pair the control device with up to four CADs, but you probably need only a single general-purpose CAD for now.”

“That’s more than enough,” Lina said.

A fleeting thought crossed Lina’s mind: Is it possible to control both general-purpose and specialized CADs with a single control device?

She didn’t voice it. The idea of switching between general-purpose and specialized CADs with just one device seemed too good to be true. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could maintain a poker face if Tatsuya confirmed her suspicions.

Tatsuya took the two CADs and headed to the adjustment room. Meanwhile, Lina went to the preparation room next door. The facility they were in was equipped with a standard adjustment device. It used a headset and hand panels to collect user data. But since they were using a brand-new CAD, Tatsuya thought it would be better to use a bed-type device to get a more precise measurement. To prepare for the procedure, Lina had to change into the appropriate clothing.

“H-here I am,” she announced.

Lina walked into the adjustment room wearing only a long, buttonless white shirt that fell about halfway over her thighs and fifteen centimeters above her knees. She had taken her hair down, letting it cascade down her back. Simple hospital slippers adorned her feet. She acted fidgety and shy, holding her arms across her chest as if to cover herself.

“Is this all right?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Tatsuya responded.

“Are you sure you didn’t want me in my underwear?”

Lina glanced away shyly, embarrassed by her own question. Despite her innocent and bashful attitude, Tatsuya, of course, remained completely indifferent.

“Have you used this type of device before?”

“I’m required to get precise measurements at least once a month,” Lina replied.

That meant the Stars had the same machine at their base. To Tatsuya, once a month wasn’t very often at all. Then again, there probably weren’t many minors in the Stars like Miyuki, who was still a developing magician. While those in their twenties might be a different story, those in their thirties or forties wouldn’t need to update their measurements quite as often.

“Would you prefer to wear a swimsuit?” Tatsuya asked. “I can have one brought in for you.”

“It’s not like I’m asking to wear a bikini or anything…” Lina trailed off.

“It’s whatever you’d like to do,” Tatsuya assured.

Lina continued to fidget nervously. Normally, a long T-shirt was less embarrassing than an exposed bikini. There was no reason for her to feel uneasy.

Then a thought popped into Tatsuya’s mind: Is she naked under that shirt?

Neither he nor the facility staff had told her to take off her underwear when changing. However, Lina knew it was normal to only wear underwear when using the bed-type measurement device. When she was given the long T-shirt examination gown, it was possible she had assumed she shouldn’t wear anything underneath it.

It was too late for Tatsuya to tell her she had made a mistake. She was already red as a tomato. Pointing out her slipup would just make the situation more awkward for both of them. In fact, Lina might get even more embarrassed, ruining the adjustment process entirely.

“…I think I’m good with the shirt,” Lina finally said.

“All right. Lie down over there,” Tatsuya said in a more businesslike tone than usual.

During the measurement process, Tatsuya’s suspicion that Lina might not be wearing underwear deepened. He caught a glimpse of protrusions through the shirt’s thin fabric, but he didn’t stare directly at them. That made Lina think he hadn’t noticed, and the adjustment finished without a hitch.

Lina was already wearing the choker-type device, which was made of two half-circles that clasped together into a ring around her neck. The golden sheen matched the color of her hair exactly. At first glance, the choker looked like a luxurious pet or prisoner’s collar, but Lina didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t like it was permanently binding. She could remove it whenever she wanted.

“I’ll stop by again tomorrow, so let me know if you have any problems,” Tatsuya said.

“Yes, sir,” Lina said with a salute.

The silver bracelet dangled on her wrist.

“Master Tatsuya,” Hyougo called out. “Please be sure not to turn off the tracer.”

“I know,” Tatsuya replied wryly.

He started up the Aircar. With its tires hovering several dozen centimeters above the ground, the vehicle sped out to sea.

When Tatsuya walked through the door of Café Einebrise near First High School, Miyuki and the gang were already there.

“Hey! Welcome, Tatsuya.”

“We’ve been waiting for you!”

Erika and Honoka spoke up at the same time. Tatsuya waved briefly and sat down between Miyuki and Honoka.

There were no other customers in the place. Before any alarm bells went off in Tatsuya’s head, Miyuki explained that she had reserved the place for the afternoon.

“Here you go, Tatsuya,” the owner said, placing a small glass pot of fresh cold brew on the counter. “On the house.”

Honoka and Shizuku quickly got to their feet. Honoka carried the pot, and Shizuku placed some cups on a tray and brought them to the table. Tatsuya thanked them.

“Let me know when you’re all done here,” the shop owner said before retreating to the back of the shop.

The moment Tatsuya entered Einebrise, he had sensed the anti-eavesdropping spell Mikihiko had cast. It was a warranted precaution. After all, Tatsuya had gone out of his way to gather them all here. Whatever he had to say must be important.

Turning toward the cup of coffee Honoka had poured for him, Tatsuya began, “Since the owner was kind enough to lend us his space, I’ll get straight to the point.”

His friends’ eyes and ears were completely focused on him as he announced, “Minoru Kudou has become a parasite.”

“What?”

“No way!”

“Seriously?!”

Mikihiko, Erika, and Leo all exclaimed at once. They were the only ones in the group—other than Tatsuya and Miyuki—who had met Minoru before.

“By Minoru Kudou, you mean the boy who represented Second High in the Thesis Competition?” Mizuki hesitated.

“That’s right.” Tatsuya nodded.

“But…why?” Erika asked, narrowing her eyes at Tatsuya.

Tatsuya had, of course, not done anything wrong. Erika was only narrowing her eyes to suppress her anxious surprise.

“Good question,” Tatsuya replied. “I’m not sure about the details. All I know is Minoru willingly gave up his humanity and became a parasite for a specific reason.”

“So are you going to tell us that specific reason?” Leo asked impatiently.

The intensity in his eyes was just as strong as Erika’s. Tatsuya could tell he was not about to tolerate any secrets.

But Leo’s glare didn’t change what Tatsuya was going to say. From the beginning, he had planned to explain how Minoru became a parasite. Within the scope he was allowed to disclose, of course.

“It has to do with the reason why Minami has been hospitalized,” he explained.

“I thought she was just physically injured,” Leo said.

“The truth is Minami’s magic-calculation region was seriously damaged,” Tatsuya said. “She will never fully recover.”

Everyone was speechless.

“The damage isn’t fatal now,” Tatsuya continued, “but casting high-level magic could make her symptoms worse.”

“How did that happen?!” Leo exclaimed, visibly shaken.

Minami was a member of the mountaineering club Leo led. After Tatsuya and Miyuki, he probably felt the closest to her of the group.

“I’m not going to go into that now,” Tatsuya responded carefully. “My reason for calling you here today has to do with something else.”

“Fine,” Leo said through clenched teeth. “And what would that be?”

He didn’t look happy about Tatsuya holding back information, but he tried to keep his cool.

“I needed to let you all know that Minoru turned himself into a parasite to test a method that might heal Minami,” Tatsuya said.

“Hold on,” Mikihiko interjected. “You mean, Minoru wants to treat Sakurai with a parasite and sacrificed himself as the test subject?”

“That’s what he told me.” Tatsuya shrugged.

“What an idiot,” Mikihiko murmured in a state of shock. “He must be insane.”

“He’s actually completely serious,” Tatsuya said.

“Then, is Minoru trying to kidnap Minami?” Erika asked, getting to Tatsuya’s point before he could get to it himself.

“Or wait!” Leo interjected. “He already tried, and you stopped him.”

“That’s right.” Tatsuya nodded. “I already fought him once.”

“And you’re afraid of losing the next battle,” Mikihiko predicted.

“I won’t die, but well…” Tatsuya paused before continuing. “It won’t be easy.”

Erika cut in, “So what you’re saying is, you might come out of the next fight unscathed, but you’re worried about failing to protect Minami.”

Tatsuya nodded. “Exactly. But there’s one more thing I need you to know. Erika, Leo, and Mikihiko—I believe Minoru might ask you to help him.”

“You mean, he might try to get us on his side?” Erika asked.

“Given that you’re the only ones I know connected to Minoru, besides the Saegusa sisters, it’s very likely,” Tatsuya explained.

“Now that you mention it…if you hadn’t talked to us today, I might have actually helped him,” Leo admitted.

“I might have, too,” Erika grudgingly agreed. “Especially if he said it was for Minami.”

“Minoru has already turned into a parasite, right? Unfortunately, it’s extremely difficult to tell the difference between a parasite and a human.” Mikihiko ruefully shook his head.

This last point especially seemed to hurt his pride as a practitioner of ancient magic. Mikihiko was better at telling the difference between different beings than Tatsuya could ever be, but he didn’t dare say it. Luckily, Tatsuya admitted it himself.

“Don’t worry,” Tatsuya said. “I couldn’t tell Minoru was a parasite until he told me. You might be more sensitive to parasites, Mikihiko, but we have to remember the Kudou family knows spells to disguise information entities. Minoru may have become a parasite, but he hasn’t lost his family’s magic.”

“I could never say my senses are better than yours, especially when it comes to your eyes,” Mikihiko replied modestly. “But I understand the need to be cautious around Minoru.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Tatsuya said.

A thoughtful look suddenly crossed Mikihiko’s face.

“By the way…”

“Yeah?” Tatsuya asked, interested in what he might say.

“Where did the parasite Minoru absorbed come from?”

“Did it infiltrate Japan from the States again?” Erika suggested.

“No”—Tatsuya shook his head—“it was a parasite we sealed away before. The Kudou family had one of the two that were taken.”

He hesitated before continuing.

“…Actually, you should also know, Lina is in Japan.”

“Really?!” Honoka gasped in surprise.

“Brother!” Miyuki yelped.

She was just as surprised as Honoka but for a completely different reason. Honoka was shocked to hear Lina was in town; Miyuki was appalled that he would reveal what was supposed to be a secret. Even though he was among friends, it was a huge risk.

In fact, she was so surprised that she referred to him like she used to instead of by name. Luckily, everyone else was too taken aback by the news to notice.

“Lina’s presence here has to do with a group of new parasites in the USNA,” Tatsuya continued.

“Parasites…in America?” Mikihiko managed to wrench out.

The other five were too stunned to speak.

“They aren’t connected with Minoru’s parasite,” Tatsuya explained. “But if they manage to make their way into Japan, they might team up with Minoru.”

“Is there a way to defeat parasites?” Mikihiko asked. “I’m happy to help if I can.”

“General Kudou will be helping us with his sealing magic,” Tatsuya said.

“By General Kudou, do you mean Sage?” Erika asked.

“But that’s Minoru’s grandfather,” Leo interjected.

Tatsuya didn’t think the Kudou family would be lenient with Minoru just because he was family. But he did consider the possibility that the family’s magic might not work on one of their own.

The Kudou family had spells for sealing parasites. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to create weapons like Parasidolls. However, Minoru was also a Kudou magician. That meant he would know the spells used to make Parasidolls. He was probably currently working on a way to escape from the very spells that bound him. He might already have countermeasures in place. That’s where Mikihiko came in.

“I don’t think one of the heads of the Ten Master Clans would betray us,” Tatsuya began. “That said, if things don’t go well, we might need to ask for your help, Mikihiko.”

“Please do,” Mikihiko replied firmly.

Ancient magic practitioners were experts when it came to dealing with demons. Mikihiko felt his duty calling.

Tatsuya didn’t use the Aircar to travel to Einebrise. After driving it from Miyaki Island, he parked it in his apartment’s garage and took public transportation to First High’s nearest station. That meant he needed to grab a cabinet once the meeting with his friends was over.

Neither Tatsuya nor Miyuki said much during the cabinet ride home. They, of course, had to be wary of eavesdroppers because of their position, but that wasn’t the main reason for their silence. A heavy tension from the conversation at Einebrise lingered over their heads.

They broke their unusual silence only once they were back at their apartment. Miyuki lightheartedly talked about events at school, and Tatsuya shared his thoughts on the Aircar. By the time Miyuki begged to go for a drive, they were back to their usual selves.

Unfortunately, their mood was soon shattered again by the sound of an incoming visiphone call. The problem wasn’t just the call itself but its purpose.

“Let me get this straight,” Tatsuya began. “You want us to capture Angie Sirius and hand her over to the National Defense Force?”

“You don’t have to put it like that,” Kazama said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m just saying the National Defense Force cannot allow a civilian organization to harbor a foreign military officer like Major Sirius.”

“That’s reasonable,” Tatsuya replied. “But why are you telling me something so obvious?”

“Tatsuya, we know you are harboring Major Sirius,” Kazama said. “The Yotsuba family told us themselves.”

There is no need to play dumb, he seemed to say with his eyes. But Tatsuya remained stubborn.

“Then, send your request to the Yotsuba main house,” he said, neither refuting nor affirming Kazama’s statement.

Kazama glared angrily at Tatsuya’s lack of cooperation.

“Specialist Ooguro,” he said sternly, as if chastising a younger friend. “Your standing in the Yotsuba family may have improved, but the contract between the National Defense Force and the Yotsuba family concerning you still stands.”

Tatsuya stared back at the screen in silence.

“In other words,” Kazama continued, “except when it comes to your protective duties toward Miyuki Shiba, you must always prioritize National Defense Force orders.”

“Colonel,” Tatsuya finally said, “I think you’re misunderstanding the contract.”

“What?” Kazama sputtered in shock.

All emotion faded from Tatsuya’s voice.

“You’re right about the contract saying that—besides Miyuki’s protection—the National Defense Force’s command takes priority,” he said. “But there is no agreement that I have to actually obey that command.”

“Are you defying military orders?” Kazama glared.

“Not at all.” Tatsuya shook his head. “My status as Specialist gave the National Defense Force a convenient excuse to use me. But the oath I took under military command five years ago in Okinawa was only effective during that time.”

“…Tatsuya,” Kazama said, his patience running thin, “the National Defense Force does not permit a civilian to harbor Major Angie Sirius. You need to understand that.”

“I’m not hiding Major Sirius,” Tatsuya maintained. “If you think the Yotsuba family is, why don’t you ask them to hand her over?”

The conversation may have ended there, but this didn’t mean Kazama and Tatsuya had cut ties. They were both too keenly aware of how much their relationship was worth.

Tatsuya and Miyuki’s new apartment had been constructed as part of the Yotsuba family’s Tokyo headquarters. The building contained both residential spaces and various facilities that enabled headquarters activities. One of these facilities was a basement designed for magic training.

On this evening, the training room was completely empty. The lack of trainees was not only because it was late. Tatsuya had also reserved the room by leveraging his semi-facetious title as the Yotsuba head’s son.

He had mentioned to Miyuki and Minami about asking Maya to teach him how to seal away parasites. But deep down, he was skeptical about his ability to master the technique. Though his standing within the Yotsuba family may have improved, he still could not effectively use ordinary spells other than Dismantle and Regenerate. Even his artificial magic-calculation region could only mimic low-power magic.

Still, Tatsuya could not completely dismiss his own potential. The limitations he experienced applied only to modern magic, which involved altering events. Traditionally, magic encompassed not only event-altering spells but also techniques for manipulating psions themselves. When it came to psion manipulation, Tatsuya could rival—perhaps even surpass—the strongest magicians.

Parasites were made of pushion information bodies. Though Tatsuya couldn’t directly manipulate pushions, parasites were also known to envelop themselves in psions. They then became inactive once they lost this psion “cloak.” Psions embodied both will and thought and served as bridges between the physical and the psychological realms. In other words, they conveyed commands from the mind to the body and transmitted the body’s information back to the mind.

Psions could interfere with the mind, which was made of pushions. Psion-based magic sequences could even activate mental interference magic, which fell outside the typical magic systems. Clearly, psions and pushion information bodies could interact.

Since parasites were pushion bodies, Tatsuya wondered whether typeless magic could seal or capture them. Simply bombarding a parasite with psions would only repel it, inflicting damage but not enough to destroy it. Tatsuya knew this from personal experience. When he previously cast Program Demolition on a parasite that had detached from its host, the spell merely drove it away. Even his Piercing Psion Bullet, designed to damage parasites inside their human hosts, could only weaken but not completely demolish them.

I can’t come up with a solution, Tatsuya thought.

This evening, he tried spells with chains, ropes, and nets, but they all felt wrong. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

If only I could practice with an actual parasite, he mused.

As far as Tatsuya knew, both the Yotsuba and the Kudou families had genuine parasites. The Yotsuba family’s specimen was sealed in the First High training forest, while the Kudou family’s had been cultivated for Parasidolls. Although borrowing one of these parasites wasn’t an option, the families might have allowed Tatsuya to use one for practice if he went directly to the heads of family.

However, Tatsuya could start practicing only after he had figured out how to manipulate psions. Asking to borrow a parasite without a clear plan would be a waste of time for both him and the families.

Then it hit him, Maybe I should ask Master Yakumo about it.

Tatsuya didn’t like to make himself indebted to Yakumo, but the situation left him no choice. He decided to visit Ninefold Temple the next morning.

On the morning of Tuesday, June 25, Tatsuya visited Yakumo’s temple for the first time in a while. He hadn’t told Yakumo he was coming, so he wasn’t about to get angry if the priest wasn’t in. But he wasn’t expecting the welcome party that awaited him.

Ninefold Temple wasn’t too far from Tatsuya’s Chofu residence. He could have jogged there if he’d felt like it. But under the circumstances, he decided to use his flying bike, Wingless. Instead of ordinary motorcycle gear, he wore the Yotsuba-made flying combat outfit, the Freed Suit. Once he arrived at the temple, he removed his helmet and hung it on his left arm. He hadn’t brought his usual specialized CAD, but the Freed Suit was equipped with a fully thought-operated CAD.

After he passed through the mountain gate, there was surprisingly no sign of the usual chaotic sparring disciples. In fact, it was as if all human life had vanished. Just as Tatsuya wondered if he had been mistaken in thinking it wouldn’t matter if no one was around, he was attacked.

His attacker was something intangible, like the very essence of hostility itself. Before he could figure out what it was, Tatsuya countered with a torrent of psions. The torrent immediately repelled the entity with a psion structure of similarly high density.

Is this the independent information entity known as a familiar? Or a naturally occurring demon? Tatsuya wondered.

Yotsuba family ancient magic practitioners who had trained him had spoken of rare cases in which large-scale and high-density psion formations could spontaneously generate independent information entities. Typically, these entities merely stored information and couldn’t influence events. However, when the amount of information and psions they contained surpassed a certain threshold, they began to affect events on their own. The ancients referred to these entities as gods or demons, feared them, and developed elemental and summoning magic to harness their powers.

Tatsuya’s blast sent the independent information entity flying, but it reversed its direction and attacked again. At this point, two things were clear. First, the entity was a wind type. Second, someone was controlling it.

Is Master Yakumo behind this? Tatsuya thought.

Either way, the entity’s hostility was too intense. In fact, its attack was so powerful that a direct hit could potentially be fatal.

To eliminate the immediate threat, Tatsuya started to cast Program Demolition. But he quickly canceled the spell. It wasn’t because he thought Yakumo was behind the attack. He just decided to use a different spell—an unclassified magic technique that compressed psions into a netlike formation.

The shape that he ultimately created was not a true net, but a thin, far-reaching psion membrane that resembled a large furoshiki cloth. Naturally, no real furoshiki cloth was three meters wide, but its job was similarly to wrap and contain the incoming spirit.

Unfortunately, Tatsuya’s “furoshiki net” was quickly torn apart. The freed spirit then transformed itself into a wind blade, which flew at Tatsuya again.

Tatsuya dodged the attack by leaping to the side. When he rolled to the ground, he noticed blood dripping from his left arm. A severe cut had ripped the skin near his shoulder. Despite his attempt to evade the attack, he had not been completely successful.

This invisible blade of air clearly went far beyond Tatsuya’s usual training intensity. If he hadn’t been wearing the Freed Suit, which was equipped with ballistic, shock-resistant, and cut-resistant features, his left arm might have been completely severed.

Luckily, Tatsuya could cast Regenerate. The damage to the suit along with the bloodstain disappeared instantly, as if they had never even happened.

If he were facing a human magician, the shock from Tatsuya’s quick recovery might have created an opening for him. The wind spirit, however, didn’t stop attacking. It could have been programmed to continue attacking no matter what, or the magician controlling it was aware of Tatsuya’s abilities. Either way, the assault was relentless.

Once again, the wind blade flew forward. Tatsuya thrust out his right hand, casting a psion shield. This high-density shield slammed the wind spirit away. The high-pressure blade burst into an explosive gust that pushed Tatsuya backward. Luckily, a mere gust of wind wasn’t enough to damage the Freed Suit.

Tatsuya’s psions gathered around the wind spirit, forming a cloud substantial enough to encompass a large passenger car. The psions then compressed into a crystal-ball-like sphere the size of Tatsuya’s palm. The wind spirit lay within it, unable to escape.

Tatsuya sighed with relief. He then glanced around his feet, searching for the helmet he had dropped when the spirit had attacked. In this brief moment of distraction, the psion sphere began to swell with explosive internal pressure.

Reacting quickly, Tatsuya threw the sphere into the air with his right hand. Then, using the recoil from his own movement, he forcefully thrust his left hand upward. The psion sphere burst apart, causing the wind spirit to explode along with it.

The resulting shock wave collided with his Program Demolition spell in a violent clash above him, sending rippling psion waves across the temple grounds.

“Wow, that was a close one.”

A shadowed figure suddenly appeared in the center of the deserted grounds applauding. It was Yakumo Kokonoe—the temple’s resident priest, renowned ninjutsu master, and the very person Tatsuya had come to seek advice from.

“You know,” he said, “you could have completed your sealing sphere if you had focused just a little harder.”

“Good morning, Master,” Tatsuya greeted him.

“Good morning, Tatsuya,” Yakumo responded.

“So what exactly is a sealing sphere?”

Tatsuya spoke as if his battle with Yakumo’s wind attack had never happened. A wry smile spread across Yakumo’s lips.

“It’s what you tried to create just now. I know you came here to learn how to seal away parasites.”

“So you heard about Minoru,” Tatsuya said grimly.

“That’s not all,” Yakumo said. “I also heard about the USNA parasites. It sounds like an even worse case than the last time.”

“It is,” Tatsuya confirmed. “That’s why I came to ask you to teach me how to seal parasites.”

“Now, why would I ever do that?”

Yakumo’s provocative response was the type that could make someone explode with anger, depending on who they were. Tatsuya, however, just accepted it at face value.

“Oh,” he said.

Although he called Yakumo “Master,” he wasn’t actually the ninjutsu practitioner’s disciple. Tatsuya used that title only because Yakumo was kind enough to let him. In fact, the high schooler didn’t even need formal magic teaching. But that didn’t mean Yakumo refused to share his knowledge.

“You don’t need me to teach you that,” Yakumo said. “That sealing sphere just now was excellent. I would never have thought it was your first time making it.”

“So a sealing sphere is a mass of psions, much like a high-density bullet with an independent information entity?” Tatsuya asked.

“Interesting,” Yakumo mused. “I would never have guessed you applied your knowledge of high-density psion bullets to make that sphere.”

Tatsuya continued, “Can the same method seal a parasite?”

Yakumo nodded. “I isolated the wind spirit’s power in my technique. It should work just as effectively against parasites.”

Religious power originally referred to a skill used by esoteric Buddhist monks to dispel demons. It was also used more broadly to mean a familiar in the context of esoteric magic. In other words, the wind spirit that Yakumo commanded was a type of familiar, and Tatsuya had successfully contained it.

While the amount of information he shared often depended on Yakumo’s mood, the ninjutsu master was still willing to offer Tatsuya advice. This was a generous gesture, considering that Tatsuya wasn’t his disciple.

“You mentioned my sphere would have worked if I had focused harder,” Tatsuya said. “What exactly did I do wrong?”

“The sphere probably wouldn’t have self-destructed if you had concentrated for ten hours,” Yakumo replied.

“So it’s just a matter of time?” Tatsuya asked.

“Not quite,” Yakumo said. “Time isn’t the key to refining the sphere.”

Tatsuya decided to stop there. He and Yakumo had known each other for five years. That was enough time to know the ninjutsu master wouldn’t give any more hints.

“All right,” Tatsuya said. “I’ll work on it.”

“It might help to practice with the Yoshida family’s second son,” Yakumo suggested.

This additional bit of advice made Tatsuya’s morning trip to the Ninefold Temple feel more than satisfactory. In fact, it exceeded his expectations.

“I miss Miyuki’s face…” Izumi groaned.

“What are you talking about?” Kasumi sighed. “You just saw her this afternoon in the student council room.”

“But think about it, Kasumi,” Izumi insisted. “Wouldn’t it be much more productive to be having a cup of tea at Miyuki’s place than to be sitting here waiting?”

Tatsuya and Miyuki’s apartment and Minami’s hospital room were close enough to be considered in the same neighborhood. They weren’t exactly walking distance from each other, but it took less than five minutes via some kind of vehicle to get from one to the other. Ever since Minami mentioned this during a recent visit, Izumi had been itching to see the apartment. Kasumi’s response to her sister’s cravings had also become something of a routine.

“Count me out,” she grimaced. “It might be Miyuki’s place, but Tatsuya is there, too.”

The twins were sitting in a small restaurant right next to Chofu Aoba Hospital, where Minami was staying. Ever since the recent Ten Master Clans meeting to deal with Minoru, this restaurant had been exclusively reserved for the Saegusa family. Since it was a reservation-only establishment to begin with, it was the perfect place to use as their base.

At the Ten Master Clans meeting, the Saegusa family had been assigned the task of ambushing and capturing the now parasite Minoru Kudou. If capture proved too difficult, they had been authorized to kill him. In other words, the Ten Master Clans had determined that summoning a parasite was a crime punishable by death.

Kasumi and Izumi wanted to avoid killing Minoru at all costs, of course, but they had come to terms with the fact that it might become necessary. Tatsuya might not think the twins were suited for the life of the Master Clans, but their family had instilled them with the mentality needed in situations like these.

What concerned the Saegusa twins the most wasn’t how to avoid killing Minoru. They had already accepted this was beyond their control, and no amount of thinking on their part could change that. Their uncertainties were much more fundamental.

“I wonder if Minoru will even really come,” Kasumi mused.

“I bet he will,” Izumi said.

“I dunno…” Kasumi frowned. “Minoru isn’t dumb.”

“He is at least smarter than you,” Izumi countered.

“That’s probably true, but it’s not like you can talk!” Kasumi scowled. “Our grades aren’t that far apart.”

“Oh, does that mean I don’t have to help you with your homework anymore?” Izumi retorted.

“H-hey! No fair!” Kasumi sputtered. “Homework has nothing to do with this!”

“That’s not my problem,” Izumi huffed.

“Anyway,” Kasumi said, refusing to let her twin have the last word, “what I’m trying to say is I bet Minoru is anticipating our attack.”

Izumi chuckled at her sister’s defensiveness and decided to lay off the bullying.

“You’re probably right,” she said. “He might even know we’re lying in wait for him right now.”

“I know, right?” Kasumi grinned.

More than anything, she was relieved that her sister had given up her threats to stop helping with homework.

“Still,” Izumi persisted. “I think Minoru is going to come.”

“But why would he?” Kasumi asked quizzically.

“He has never been very attached to things,” Izumi began. “Probably because he has always been so frail.”

“You’ve got that right.” Kasumi nodded. “It used to drive me nuts that he wasn’t more selfish.”

The twins hadn’t been around Minoru all that often growing up. Compared to other children, they, too, tended to be relatively indifferent to material goods. But even so, Minoru seemed like a boy who didn’t desire much at all—whether it was objects or experiences.

“My point is,” Izumi continued, “despite that, he went so far as to abandon his humanity for Sakurai. I can’t imagine feeling that strongly about anything, but it probably means he won’t give up easily.”

“Wow, not even you know what it’s like to feel that way?” Kasumi asked in astonishment.

“I might be a romantic, but no.” Izumi shook her head sadly. “As much as I hate to admit it.”

“I mean…I don’t doubt you’re a romantic, but this situation doesn’t necessarily have that much to do with romance,” Kasumi said with a stifled laugh. “Feelings aside, the real issue is that Sakurai has the Yotsuba, Juumonji, and Saegusa families on her side. Would Minoru really dive into a lion’s den like this? Is love really that blind?”

“Kasumi, I don’t think you understand what the phrase love is blind means,” her sister countered.

Kasumi looked puzzled. “Doesn’t it mean love makes you lose all reason and common sense?”

“A dictionary might describe it that way, but losing reason refers to an inability to see the flaws in another person. Losing common sense means ignoring your or your loved one’s social status and position. I don’t think that’s what is happening here,” Izumi explained.

“Huh.”

“Besides,” Izumi added, “I don’t think Minoru has lost his ability to make rational decisions.”

“But why else would he come here?” Kasumi asked. “He has to know he’s walking into a trap.”

Izumi lowered her voice, her expression hinting at the secretive nature of what she was about to say. “I think it’s because he isn’t afraid of us.”

Kasumi lowered her voice as well. “But Minoru never came off as the overconfident type.”

“His lack of fear doesn’t mean he’s overconfident,” Izumi insisted. “He’s actually strong enough to hold his own against all of us.”

“I mean…” Kasumi hesitated. “He might be strong enough to beat the Saegusa family, but I’m not so sure about the Yotsuba and Juumonji.”

“Minoru now possesses a parasite’s strength,” Izumi reminded her twin. “On top of that, there are rumors that he absorbed the spirit of an ancient magic practitioner from China.”

“He absorbed a spirit?” Kasumi asked skeptically. “That sounds a little far-fetched.”

“Either way,” Izumi said, brushing off Kasumi’s objection without delving deeper, “I’m sure Minoru has grown stronger.”

Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely convinced that the rumors were true, either. And despite her acknowledgment of Minoru’s strength, this didn’t mean he could go unchecked. Before Kasumi could state her own opinion, a voice grabbed their attention, bringing the twins’ conversation to an end.

“Kasumi, Izumi, he’s here!”

It was Mayumi, appearing from the door of the restaurant’s kitchen. Kasumi was the first of the twins to jump to her feet.

“What about Sakurai?!”

Izumi may have worked with Minami on the student council, but Kasumi seemed to have a deeper affection for her classmate. Or maybe she was just more emotionally expressive.

“She’s fine,” Mayumi reassured her. “We caught Minoru before he snuck into the hospital.”

“You mean the Juumonji family caught him?” Izumi asked before her twin had the chance.

“No.” Mayumi shook her head. “It was the Saegusa team.”

Kasumi’s face lit up with pride. But her expression quickly darkened at Mayumi’s next statement.

“Unfortunately,” Mayumi continued, “they were defeated in less than a minute. The Juumonji family has taken over now, but they’re barely holding Minoru off. I contacted Father, but it will take at least ten minutes for him to get here. Katsuto Juumonji’s team is also on their way, but we can’t expect them in less than five minutes.”

“So until then, it’s up to us to hold Minoru back?” Izumi asked.

“Exactly.” Mayumi nodded.

This whole time, Kasumi and Izumi had not been listening passively. As they let Mayumi’s words sink in, they were busy wrapping CAD devices around their wrists, securing communication goggles over their eyes, and fastening their protective vests. Their vests not only provided protection from bullets and blades. They also absorbed all sorts of impacts.

“All set,” Kasumi announced.

“Me too,” Izumi added.

“Okay, let’s go,” Mayumi said, opening the door.

Clad in matching tactical gear, she led the way toward the site of the action. The twins followed closely behind.

By the time Mayumi and her sisters arrived at the scene, the battle had come to a temporary halt, and four magicians lay unconscious on the ground. The twins immediately rushed to the magicians’ side, checking for a pulse and monitoring their breathing.

“They’re both alive over here!” Kasumi shouted.

“Here, too,” Izumi chimed in. “And no visible injuries.”

Mayumi walked over to speak with two panting magicians who had managed to stay on their feet.

“Where is Minoru?” she asked, lifting her goggles to reveal her face.

“He disappeared down one of the alleys on the right,” one of them replied. “We already asked our allies in that area to intercept him, if they can.”

There were no doors leading into the hospital on the right-hand side. Mayumi wondered if this meant Minoru planned to break through a window or sneak in from the rooftop. Either way, she was certain he hadn’t fled the scene.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go after him. The two of you can return to your standby positions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the other magician responded.

The two magicians Mayumi had been talking to were from the Juumonji family. All four of the unconscious ones were on the Saegusa family team.

The Juumonji magicians bowed before heading back to the hospital’s rear entrance. Their primary mission was to prevent any intrusions into the building. They had rushed to this location to assist the Saegusa magicians but had clearly strayed too far from their posts.

“Izumi, Kasumi. I’d like you to take care of the unconscious magicians,” Mayumi ordered.

“You’re going off on your own?!” Kasumi exclaimed.

“It’s too dangerous!” Izumi chimed in to try to stop their elder sister.

Mayumi solemnly shook her head. “We can’t just abandon our injured allies. While they might not be hurt physically, they are still unconscious. Besides, for all we know, Minoru might come back this way.”

The twins knew Mayumi had a point. Minoru could have feigned going to the right to lower security on the left and sneak in when everyone’s guard was down.

“Fine…” Kasumi grumbled reluctantly.

“Be careful,” Izumi warned.

“You too,” Mayumi said.

She slid her goggles back over her eyes and headed to the right side of the hospital.

Suddenly, powerful magic surged through the air. Mayumi quickly traced it to the source, sprinting down an alley along the hospital’s edge and turning onto a side street farther out.

A flash of lightning split the sky.

About five meters above the ground, an electric bolt shot out from the impenetrable darkness against a thickly clouded night sky. Its target was two male magicians, who had been introduced to Mayumi before the operation as members of the Yotsuba family forces.

One of them was on the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he applied pressure to a gaping wound on his leg. The other was still on his feet, positioning himself in front of his injured comrade to cast a magic barrier that absorbed the brunt of the lightning.

With typical emission-type magic, an attack would end the moment a shield stopped it. Modern magic simply sets an attack’s starting point away from the target to prevent enemy interference from disrupting a spell’s activation.

However, this lightning spell didn’t contain an ordinary flow of electrons. The bolt, running diagonally for several meters, left a glowing trail through the air, resembling a serpent of light. Instead of dissipating upon impact with a magic barrier, it began to slither along its surface and wrap itself around the side.

Giving form to an event was a technique that involved using additional resources to give a formless phenomenon a symbolic shape. This enhanced the controllability of the magically induced phenomenon. It was an ancient magic technique that was foreign to modern magic. In this case, the caster seemed to be using the technique to sustain and manipulate a normally fleeting bolt of lightning, allowing him to control it for a longer period of time.

It was clearly a sophisticated technique. At first, Mayumi thought it would be more efficient to repeatedly generate lightning strikes rather than develop a single bolt. But as she watched the serpentlike lightning move across the surface of the shield, she quickly realized she had underestimated its purpose.

The Juumonji magician had cast a dome-shaped barrier, designed to defend from all sides. Even if the lightning serpent tried to circle around the shield, it couldn’t slip past it. However, the reason for the seemingly futile action of slithering across the shield became clear when it completed a full loop. By biting its own tail, the serpentlike lightning bolt formed a ring that trapped the magician inside his own shield.

It was at this moment that Mayumi finally understood: This wasn’t just an attack—it was a restraining spell, designed to immobilize its target.

The lightning bolt could only electrify. It alone couldn’t exert pressure on the shield or constrict the magician inside. However, the moment the shield was dispelled, its caster could instantly be struck by lightning.

Although the lightning serpent appeared to be wrapped around the shield, it was actually anchored at specific points. Trying to move while maintaining the shield would result in a power struggle between the shield and the magic holding the lightning serpent in place.

Lightning struck from the sky again, not just once but in a successive triple strike. The resulting electricity transformed into more lightning serpents that encircled the two Juumonji magicians, shield and all.

The dome-shaped magic barrier was now bound by three concentric rings. The magicians may have avoided the initial strike, but the second wave of lightning intersected at six points, surrounding the shield in a tight, three-layered ring.

Mayumi fired a psion bullet at the lightning bolt’s point of origin. While her psion bullets lacked the destructive power of Tatsuya’s dismantling techniques, her accuracy was unparalleled. She was not renowned as one of the world’s top remote precision magic shooters for nothing.

Mayumi’s psion bullet struck a magic cannon suspended in midair. This cannon was a psion information entity used for the continuous remote activation of magic. The psion bullet destroyed the cannon’s information structure and effectively dismantled it.

Not only was Mayumi proficient in the four main systems of modern magic and the typeless magic of firing psion bullets, but she also possessed an innate ability related to perceptual magic. This ability was known as Multiscope, a type of remote viewing magic. While it was possible to achieve similar effects through regular magic, Mayumi’s ability revealed itself as what was formally known as psychic power.

Magic and psychic powers were essentially driven by the same force, but it was usually impossible for a single person to possess both simultaneously. Psychic powers could be used to alter phenomena merely by thought, but they were limited to specific patterns of alteration. Modern magic, on the other hand, adjusted the mental functions used in psychic powers to affect a wide variety of phenomena. Then, to use magic smoothly, various supplementary tools beyond mere thought came into play.

In terms of only handling specific patterns, Tatsuya’s Dismantle and Regenerate were closer to psychic powers. The biggest hint was his limited ability to adapt to other patterns of phenomenon alteration. His case demonstrated that specialized psychic power focused on certain types of phenomenon alteration and a magic system capable of handling diverse phenomena could not coexist.

And yet Mayumi managed to integrate a diverse range of magic with her unique perceptual abilities. In this respect, she was a conventional magician, distinct from Tatsuya in her own way.

At this moment, Mayumi had her Multiscope ability operating at full capacity. It flooded her with visual information from various angles, placing a significant burden on her mind. Since Multiscope could blur her consciousness even after a few minutes, she rarely used it to its full extent like this.

Aware of the risks she was putting herself through, Mayumi scoured the area for Minoru. She had a good feeling he was hiding nearby. Physical distance didn’t often matter when it came to magic, but magicians didn’t typically cast a high-level spell, like the lightning serpent, from an out-of-sight location.

Whether it was her relentless determination or her strong mental focus that paid off, Mayumi’s heightened Multiscope vision caught sight of a boy’s back. She could only see a silhouette and not a face, but the figure gave off an otherworldly, beautiful, and enigmatic presence. Mayumi adjusted her viewpoint to confirm it was who she thought it was.

Found you! she exclaimed internally.

The moment Mayumi “saw” Minoru’s face, whether by coincidence or because he sensed her gaze, he turned away. But she needed only an instant to confirm her target.

Mayumi swiftly moved her fingers across the CAD on her wrist to cast her signature spell, Magic Bullet Shooter. Three cannons appeared in midair to fire a series of dry ice bullets.

Via her remote viewing, Mayumi confirmed that Magic Bullet Shooter was locked on to Minoru. The silhouette of the boy she was watching vanished from the ground. But Mayumi’s Multiscope did not lose sight of his elegant figure.

All of a sudden, Minoru was in the air. Mayumi created new cannons to unleash another barrage of dry ice bullets, but the shadow darting through the sky evaded most of the shots.

With an intricate flair, Minoru landed on the hospital rooftop. Mayumi concentrated the remaining power of her Multiscope on maintaining aerial visibility while preparing a capturing spell. Leaving her allies ensnared by the lightning serpent behind, she leaped up to the rooftop of the hospital.

“I hope Mayumi is okay,” Kasumi whispered.

“She might be up against Minoru, but I doubt she will be defeated that easily,” Izumi said.

Her tone was uncertain, but her expression was calm. She must have been less worried than her voice let on.

Mayumi was currently the most powerful magician in the Saegusa family. Kouichi, the head of the family, did not participate in the same stamina tests as his children, so the extent of his power remained elusive. But it could still be said that Mayumi was the strongest among her siblings. Even when combining their strengths, Kasumi and Izumi couldn’t surpass her. Even employing their most powerful techniques and strategies, they failed to match her strength.

There was nothing else for the twins to do but talk and keep watch. They had already completed the first aid for their injured teammates. None of the injuries were severe, and an external inspection didn’t reveal any major blood loss or fractures. One of the magicians seemed to have hit their head when they fell, but unfortunately, brain damage was beyond the scope of the twins’ care. They cooled the magician’s swollen areas while waiting for the Saegusa family medical team to arrive in place of an ambulance.

Though they hadn’t discussed it out loud, both Izumi and Kasumi were thinking the same thing: If the medical team didn’t arrive soon, they would have to transport the injured magicians to the nearby hospital.

“No one’s coming.” Kasumi sighed.

“You can say that again,” Izumi agreed.

Neither twin was very patient. It was no secret that Kasumi was easily irritated, but even Izumi lost interest in things fairly quickly. In short, she followed the beat of her own drum. Ultimately, the sisters had about the same painfully short tolerance for boredom. With a mere glance, they realized their thoughts were in sync. The twins turned toward the hospital’s rear entrance in unison. But the moment they were about to request assistance for the injured, something completely different came out of their mouths.

“Watch out!”

Unfortunately, their warning backfired.

The two magicians guarding the hospital’s back entrance turned their attention to the twins. The moment their focus wavered, a spell was unleashed from the darkness.

Intense bursts of light erupted in the air. The spell, Spark, forcibly extracted electrons from matter to trigger an electrical discharge. Though it was a basic emission-type spell, it required a high level of event interference. Most magicians could ionize gases only within a very limited range due to the low density of the gases, which was a fraction of the volume in any given space.

The Spark spell just unleashed was widespread enough to cover two entire people with plasma. It encompassed the magicians at the back of the hospital from their chests down. Though their heads were unaffected, they still lost control of their bodies, convulsed, and collapsed to their knees.

“Who’s there?!” Kasumi yelled while casting a spell.

A faint light illuminated the darkness between streetlights. Despite Kasumi’s question, she was certain it was Minoru. In fact, if anyone other than Minoru had emerged into the light, the shock might have rendered her speechless.

Minoru only squinted mildly at the dazzling flash from Kasumi’s spell, which robbed him of the ability to resist. The intense light cast deep shadows across the boy’s face, accentuating the otherworldly charm of his striking features.

“Hands in the air, Minoru!” Kasumi exclaimed.

She cast Freeze Air Bullet, a spell that cooled and compressed air to convert extracted thermal energy into a projectile. It was like Mayumi’s trump card, Dry Meteor, but traded out carbon dioxide for regular air. Since the freezing point of nitrogen and oxygen was lower than that of carbon dioxide, a nitrogen-oxygen mix didn’t freeze. However, the icy, compressed bullets behaved differently from dry ice projectiles.

As Kasumi unleashed her spell, Izumi erected a defensive barrier against Area Interference. As the spell’s blinding light faded, Minoru’s figure was consumed by the darkness.

Kasumi’s Freeze Air Bullet collided with a magic barrier and shattered. The air, freed from the confinement of the spell, adhered to the laws of physics and reached temperatures well below freezing. After rapidly expanding, it formed a chilling block of ice.

However, even the frigid air failed to penetrate Minoru’s shield. A mist formed as the cold air met the barrier’s surface. The resulting condensation sent water droplets trickling down the transparent shield. Minoru’s magic shield was as solid as a physical wall, repelling Kasumi’s attack with unwavering strength.

Just as Freeze Air Bullet dissipated, Minoru launched his own attack. A new intervention appeared within Izumi’s territory, where she had cast Area Interference.

Area Interference was not a spell that relied on magic sequences. It was a defensive technique that continuously utilized the magician’s own intervention power. When an enemy cast a spell, Area Interference registered it by transmitting a tangible sense of resistance back to its caster.

Izumi did everything in her power to nullify Minoru’s magic, but she was swiftly overpowered. An electric charge shot through the air. It was smaller in scale than the Spark spell that had struck the Juumonji magicians. Izumi’s Area Interference had probably helped to weaken the event modification. However, with Minoru’s magic already in motion, this offered little consolation.

A burst of plasma sparked violently as it struck the Saegusa twins. But luckily, a gust of wind blew the plasma away. Thanks to Kasumi’s quick thinking, her second spell against Minoru turned into a defensive one.

“Izumi! Are you okay?” Kasumi exclaimed.

She rushed over to her sister, who had been hurt in the clash of event-altering forces. But Izumi grabbed Kasumi’s hand before it touched her shoulder.

“We can’t keep fighting him one by one,” Izumi insisted.

“You’re right.” Kasumi nodded.

She knew exactly what Izumi was trying to say. Since this was a two-against-one situation, they were, of course, not fighting Minoru individually. They were working together in sync.

But what Izumi was talking about was not simply a matter of numbers. She meant that they couldn’t defeat Minoru by casting two different spells; they needed to combine their strengths into one powerful move. Kasumi was completely on board.

The two intertwined their fingers with Kasumi’s right hand clasping Izumi’s left. Their palms pressed firmly together. They then faced one another, joined their opposite hands, and pulled each other close. Psions flowed from Kasumi’s left hand into Izumi’s right, and from Izumi’s left hand into Kasumi’s right. Through their linked fingers, psions circulated between the sisters’ bodies.

As if on cue, Minoru cast a spell. The force of his event alteration bore down on the twins from above. However, the magic failed to materialize. The Area Interference spell protecting the twins had grown stronger than before and effectively nullified his spell.

“Here I go,” Izumi whispered.

“It’s all you!” Kasumi smiled.

Izumi used the CAD around her left wrist to set an activation sequence via thought manipulation. With Multiplicative Cast, there was no fixed hierarchy of who led and who followed. While it was true that Kasumi often constructed the sequences and Izumi applied Area Interference, the opposite was equally effective.

Minoru appeared in the darkness, illuminated by a glow that was just strong enough to light up his face. He looked perplexed under the magic light, clearly not understanding why the twins would dedicate effort to a spell with no offensive power.

Of course, this was just the preparation stage, a step to make it easier to aim the next magic attack.

Izumi cast another spell. Minoru was not distracted, but uncertainty seemed to dull his decision-making. This time Izumi was quicker.

A large whirlwind of air swirled above Minoru’s head, instantly compressing at room temperature. Instead of directing the air toward the light, Izumi released it downward. The descending airflow rapidly cooled via adiabatic expansion and struck the light.

This was Cold Storm. Izumi, inspired by Miyuki’s magic, had just recently mastered the chilling spell.

“Eek! That’s cold!” Kasumi squealed as a gust of icy wind blew in her face.

“Sorry!” Izumi apologized, trembling from both the cold and adrenaline.

She had only started practicing Cold Storm. Clearly, her version of the spell wasn’t completely effective at preventing an aftereffect.

“It’s fine,” Kasumi said. “Did it work?”

Izumi glanced at Minoru. The boy stood still, covered in a frost that shimmered under a magic light. He showed no signs of moving, but he also didn’t fall.

If Minoru had lost strength in his limbs, he shouldn’t be able to stay upright. Even if his entire body was rigid, it would normally be impossible to stay on his feet.

“One more time, Kasumi!” Izumi shouted.

Suddenly, Minoru began to transform. The frost on his hair, face, and clothes vanished in an instant, not even leaving his body damp. He extended his right arm toward the twins.

“Here goes nothing!” Kasumi yelled back.

She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened before. This time, she took the initiative, shooting a powerful nitrogen wind toward Minoru.

This was Nitrogen Storm—a spell that generated an extremely low-oxygen gale, so its target succumbed to hypoxia. Unfortunately, Minoru countered with a light shield, and the airflow from above neutralized Kasumi’s attack.

“”

Izumi saw Minoru’s lips move, but the raging winds made it hard to hear. At the same time, she had a feeling he said, “Now it’s my turn.”

She sensed an imminent spell in the air, and a faint breeze began to blow. She quickly cast a defensive shield.

Unfortunately, the wind stopped only at the surface of the shield and began to swirl within. The wind had not passed through Izumi’s magic barrier; it had pierced it. Not that this difference was particularly important. By the time Izumi and Kasumi felt the first gust, it was already too late.

Kasumi staggered and collapsed. Realizing she had been holding her breath this whole time, Izumi gulped for air and rushed to catch her sister. Moments later, Izumi’s consciousness, too, was swallowed by darkness.

An invisible hand caught Kasumi and Izumi before they could tumble onto the pavement, and it gently laid them down on the ground.

It was Minoru’s magic that both stole the twins’ consciousness and caught them in midair. He achieved the latter action through a combination of movement-type magic to stop their fall and weighting-type magic to reduce their mass. The former action was completed with convergence-type magic to lower the surrounding concentration of oxygen—a technique similar in principle to the Nitrogen Storm the twins had used.

Instead of forcefully breaking through the sisters’ magic defenses, Minoru employed a technique he had learned from Gongjin Zhou. This involved using the same type of magic as his opponents to cause a misidentification between their spells. Minoru then manipulated the airflow to gently but forcibly direct an increased concentration of oxygen up into Kasumi’s and Izumi’s nostrils and down into their lungs.

The twins began coughing simultaneously as they started to breathe again. With their magic resistance weakened in their half-conscious state, Minoru used old illusion magic to lull them to sleep. Their eyes, which had just begun to open, slowly closed again. Their now steady and relaxed breathing signaled that they had entered a harmless deep and peaceful sleep.

Minoru let out a sigh of relief. Hurting Kasumi and Izumi was never his intention. He was even hesitant to aim an offensive spell at them in the first place. He knew why the Ten Master Clans wanted to capture or eliminate him, but he had no desire to fight them.

All he wanted was to save Minami. His plan was simple: confirm what Minami truly wanted. If she accepted his idea, he would turn her into a parasite, and they would find a quiet corner of the world to live together. If Minami wanted to return to the Yotsuba family, he would be willing to let her go. Regardless of what the Ten Master Clans might do or say afterward, Minoru believed that the Yotsuba family, with its power and influence, was more than capable of protecting one of their own.

Even when under attack, Minoru wanted to resolve things as peacefully as possible. The decision to fight Kasumi and Izumi, who he had known since childhood and was fairly close with, weighed heavily on him. He hated the thought of potentially causing them lasting harm. So he chose to neutralize them in the least painful way possible and took measures to administer first aid as quickly as he could. However, this didn’t absolve him of guilt. He knew his actions—no matter how carefully executed—wouldn’t erase the consequences.

Minoru felt a lingering sense of unease as he made his way to the hospital’s back entrance. No matter how awful it sounded, his objective was to kidnap Minami and take her from the hospital against her will. There would be no time for persuasion or explanations right now. If his calculations were right, enough time had already passed for Tatsuya to arrive at any moment.

As Minoru reached for the door, he suddenly drew his hand away and leaped backward. A bullet of dry ice shot where he had just been, followed by a voice above his head.

“Give up already, Minoru!”

Minoru looked up.

“Looks like my illusion has been broken,” he murmured to himself.

Mayumi was standing on the hospital roof looking down on him.

The elder Saegusa sister had followed Minoru onto the rooftop and came to an abrupt stop. On the opposite edge of the roof, Minoru had also frozen in place. The thick clouds above obscured the moon and stars, leaving the sky pitch-black. Even from this height, the city lights below reflected faintly off the clouds, casting a dim glow over the area. This light just barely illuminated Minoru’s silhouette against the evening sky.

Minoru had his back turned to Mayumi. Even when she prepared her psions to attack, he did not turn around.

“Stop this, Minoru!” Mayumi shouted. “Nothing bad will happen as long as you stop fighting right now! I want to hear your side of the story!”

Minoru seemed not to hear, but he also didn’t seem to be preparing an attack. Mayumi hesitated. It felt wrong to attack someone who wasn’t putting up a fight.

At the same time, she couldn’t just let him go. Minoru had become a parasite. Although she hadn’t confirmed it directly, she doubted Tatsuya would blatantly lie about something like that. He wasn’t the type. Besides, it was too risky to leave parasites to their own devices.

“Drop your CAD to the ground!” Mayumi shouted.

This drew a reaction from Minoru for the first time, turning only his face toward Mayumi. His profile was both malevolently eerie and unnaturally beautiful. An almost inhuman, otherworldly smile played on his lips.

Mayumi had never doubted that Minoru had become a parasite. But at that moment, she truly came to accept—in the most profound sense—that he had transformed into something no longer human.

She quickly prepped the magic sequence for her signature spell: Magic Bullet Shooter. There was no longer any hesitation in her mind.

Twelve gun turrets fired a series of dry ice bullets around Minoru. The arctic projectiles pierced his shoulder, chest, abdomen, waist, and thighs. Or at least they seemed to. In actuality, the bullets passed right through him.

He cast an illusion with Parade! Mayumi realized.

The Kudou family spell, Parade, created illusions in the information dimension to confuse a target’s aim. When Mayumi was assigned to capture Minoru, her father, Kouichi, informed her about this spell.

As her father had said, the illusion was indistinguishable from the real thing. When Mayumi cast Magic Bullet Shooter, she could simultaneously see Minoru from six different angles. Yet none of the visual information from any angle gave her any sense of unease.

If I can’t find his real body, Mayumi thought, there’s only one thing to do!

Remote precision shooting was her specialty. If she didn’t know the exact location of her target, her skill was rendered useless. However, she was not only renowned as one of the world’s top remote precision shooters. She also held the title of “Miss Universal” for being the eldest daughter and arguably the strongest magician in the Saegusa family. In other words, Mayumi’s arsenal extended beyond just precision attacks.

Parade sets up illusions near its caster to deflect enemy attacks, she thought, reviewing what she had been taught. In that case, Minoru must be somewhere on this rooftop!

Mayumi began to construct a new magic sequence. She prepared to cast Dry Blizzard, a spell that rained down a flurry of dry ice bullets on the caster’s opponent. A mass of carbon dioxide formed several meters above the rooftop, and –80 degrees Celsius ice shards torrented down.

Mayumi remained calm. The Dry Blizzard barrage was merely the appetizer to her main strategy. She began to form a cage of gas. The only thing that could impede entry or exit was the gas itself.

Inside the cage, the dry ice sublimated all at once. An arctic mass of air, extremely high in carbon dioxide, covered half the rooftop. Mayumi gradually expelled gases other than carbon dioxide while shrinking the cage, and she simultaneously honed her senses to detect anything within.

If Minoru was inside her cage, he should be using some form of magic defense. Mayumi reasoned that while he might be able to conceal his exact location, it was impossible for him to hide his magic.

However, contrary to expectations, there was no sign of new magic on the rooftop. Instead, a powerful magic presence emerged from the ground, near the hospital’s rear entrance. It was unmistakably the psion waves of Kasumi and Izumi’s Multiplicative Cast.

I’ve been tricked!

Mayumi panicked as she suddenly realized what was happening. Minoru’s objective to infiltrate the hospital from the back entrance had never changed. His illusions had been merely decoys to keep her away.

The magic illusion incorporated perfect visual projections, remote magic cannons, and a psion barrier that could be penetrated only by the intense psion waves of Multiplicative Cast. Mayumi left her gas-sealing barrier in place and ran toward the hospital’s back entrance.

Girls!

She forced herself to stifle a scream. Kasumi and Izumi lay motionless on the ground. Her worst fears seemed to have come true. But her immediate priority was capturing Minoru. She couldn’t treat her sisters until that was done.

Minoru was reaching for the hospital’s back door. Mayumi used the copious amounts of carbon dioxide she had created on the rooftop to fire an array of dry ice bullets. Minoru dodged quickly with a backward leap. Mayumi’s attack managed only to pierce the spot where he had just been.

“Give it up, Minoru!” Mayumi yelled.

Minoru lifted his head but said nothing. He showed no sign of heeding Mayumi’s words. Without hesitation, Mayumi aimed her dry ice bullets at him again.

One more time!

Her bullets collided with Minoru’s body and shattered on the ground behind him. This time, he had cast Parade. Mayumi recognized it immediately. She compressed ten square meters of carbon dioxide into a one-meter semisolid sphere and threw it at Minoru.

Upon hitting the ground, the sphere expanded into a dome with a five-meter radius. It didn’t spread any farther to maintain a safe area outside the danger zone for Mayumi’s sisters. The concentration of carbon dioxide had easily surpassed toxic levels. As long as Minoru’s metabolic system was similar to a human’s, he would need to avoid breathing in the gas.

Mayumi created a gentle airflow within the dome, so weak it could barely be called a breeze. The air appeared to move randomly, but it had a complex pattern. At a certain point, between 170 and 180 centimeters in height and 50 centimeters wide, the flow was obstructed. Mayumi set up Magic Bullet Shooter cannons and directed a wave of concentrated fire at that point.

All of a sudden, Minoru appeared, his silhouette illuminated in the dim streetlights. Parade had been breached. Mayumi increased the power and intensity of her gunfire. She had ample carbon dioxide available for creating bullets. Anything already fired would sublimate back into gas so she could reuse it as ammunition.

Suddenly, Minoru raised his right hand. Mayumi thought it might be a sign of surrender. Although this could have meant a potential opening on her part, Magic Bullet Shooter continued unabated. As a result, Minoru’s counterattack was independent of any openings Mayumi might have had. His illusion was already spent by the time she cast Dry Blizzard.

Mayumi’s consciousness no longer retained any memory of the vanished illusion. When a dense shadow formed where the illusion had been, she didn’t even notice it. From the shadow emerged four legs, followed by a head and slender tail, resembling a tiger. As its mouth opened wide, fangs appeared, and instead of a roar, it unleashed a thunderous blast.

Mayumi spun around in a panic. The shadowed beast wrapped in lightning was already right in front of her. Before she could react, the beast tackled her to the ground. Rather than sink its fangs into her flesh, it unleashed a paralyzing electric shock. Mayumi’s body convulsed as the electrical surge overwhelmed her, and she rolled precariously toward the edge of the rooftop.

A sharp gasp escaped Minoru’s lips as his opponent plummeted toward the ground.

“Mayumi!”

It had not been his intention to push her off the roof. He quickly began to cast a gravity-control spell to catch her. But before the spell was completed, Mayumi’s body was swooped up by a sturdy male figure that fell from the sky.

The man expertly controlled the gravity and inertia around him to land gracefully on the ground below. Though the landing was silent, Minoru’s ears picked up a heavy phantom thud, which shook the earth beneath his feet.

“Juumonji…” he whispered.

The sturdy figure belonged to Katsuto Juumonji, the head of the Juumonji family. He turned his back to Minoru and gently laid Mayumi down on the ground.

Minoru did not attack Katsuto from behind. In fact, he couldn’t. He was paralyzed by Katsuto’s silent command to wait.

Once Mayumi was safe, Katsuto stood up and turned around. Minoru instinctively cast a Parade illusion to escape, but it was no use. A transparent barrier rose from where Katsuto was standing. It was a solid, impenetrable magic shield measuring roughly two tatami mats in size, which shot toward Minoru at high speeds.

Minoru quickly leaped to the right. The magic shield, while having no direct effect on nonsolid materials or physical energy, possessed the properties of a transparent wall that would not allow solid objects to pass through it. In other words, it was incompatible with illusions that conferred contradictory properties to any given space. It easily shattered Minoru’s Parade, casting his illusory figure into the darkness.

The real Minoru had thrown himself onto the ground to evade Katsuto’s attack. He then scrambled to his feet and began casting his next spell. Drawing on his newfound knowledge of Qimen Dunjia, Minoru concealed his position. Simultaneously, he dashed to the left.

If Qimen Dunjia was successful, it would appear to Katsuto as if Minoru had escaped in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, his escape was thwarted after only two steps as an imposing barrier sprang up directly in his path.

Why isn’t it working? Minoru thought.

But he quickly realized his mistake. Katsuto’s magic shield was constructed in a curved shape that is four meters in diameter and two meters tall. In other words, it was an all-encompassing wall that rendered Minoru’s Qimen Dunjia useless.

Suddenly, the wall began to close in from above. The ceiling of the cylindrical cage descended, pressing down on the entire enclosed space.

Minoru countered with his own physical shield. He poured all his strength into a fifty-centimeter circular shield to ward off the four-meter-wide wall.

Minoru’s and Katsuto’s barriers shattered simultaneously. Without a moment to waste, Minoru cast a teleportation spell to escape from Katsuto’s cage and fell to one knee as he landed.

Minoru had just clashed with the strongest barrier spell of a family known as the Iron Wall. Both spells ultimately canceled each other out, since Katsuto had spread his magic widely and Minoru’s was concentrated over a smaller area.

This contest of strength naturally left Minoru exhausted. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury to rest and wait for his strength to recover. Katsuto was not the type to grant a reprieve. Before the older boy could launch a counterattack, Minoru unleashed his own spell: Cloudless Thunder.

This powerful offensive magic was among Minoru’s specialties and proved particularly effective in close combat. Given his current exhaustion, it was by no means an easy spell to cast. But he knew anything half-hearted would be meaningless against Katsuto.

A mass of air molecules transformed into plasma, shooting a torrent of electrons. But the attack did not hit Minoru’s opponent. The delayed swarm of positively charged psions that followed were similarly thwarted by Katsuto’s magic barrier.

Luckily, Minoru had anticipated this. He had never expected Cloudless Thunder to land a solid hit on Katsuto. The spell’s main purpose was to disrupt Katsuto’s attacks and shift the momentum of the battle in Minoru’s favor.

Try this on for size! Minoru yelled internally.

He pulled a glistening black talisman from his pocket and infused it with intent. Suddenly, a four-legged ebony beast leaped from his waist and charged at Katsuto.

This was Hellhound, an offensive spell adapted from old Western magic that Gongjin Zhou had renamed Shadow Beast. In modern magic terms, it could be classified as exotyped magic that created the illusion of an attack by fangs and claws.

Exotyped magic reverses causality from the astral side, Minoru reasoned. That means a physical shield shouldn’t be able to block it!

The ebony Shadow Beast ran at Katsuto but vanished upon hitting his magic barrier. Minoru was confused but refused to let himself be thrown off. He calmly analyzed Katsuto’s magic based on what he saw.

Does Juumonji family reflection magic block its target while maintaining the natural attributes of other spatial elements? he wondered.

Katsuto was using the Juumonji family reflection spell, Phalanx. For Minoru, the real issue wasn’t just the defense itself but the fact that it also had Area Interference properties.

This was area-of-effect magic that did not permit alterations to spatial phenomena beyond the defined blocking functions. Both illusions and physical constructs were projected into space. Unless Minoru’s power could exceed Katsuto’s Phalanx, all his attacks would be nullified by the barrier.

Minoru had obtained techniques from Gongjin Zhou and used his parasite to increase his speed, but his strength remained the same. While he may have had higher phenomenon interference than most mages, he unfortunately lacked what it took to break through Katsuto’s barrier.

Minoru cast an array of illusions of himself and quickly darted between their shadows. He had avoided full-fledged projections to conserve his strength. As Katsuto was distracted by these decoys, he unleashed a flurry of his usual spells: Spark, Grand Thunder, Plasma Bullet, and Heatwave Blade.

Then he included some less familiar ones, such as Nitrogen Storm and Dry Blizzard, which were more the Saegusa sisters’ specialty. The trick was to catch Katsuto off guard with the sheer variety.

However, Katsuto successfully countered each one. Seizing his chance, he used his Phalanx barrier to launch an attack in a scattershot pattern. One of these attacks hit Minoru directly.

Phalanx Attack was a spell that destroyed an opponent’s defenses by repeatedly slamming solid, impenetrable barriers into them, which ultimately crushed their body. A single barrier was basically equivalent to a standard weighting-type spell.

Luckily for Minoru, he managed to counter Katsuto’s barrier with his own physical shield. But by doing so, he effectively exposed his position in the process. The Phalanx Attack was relentless. There was not even time to cast Qimen Dunjia.

Minoru simultaneously deactivated his shield and cast acceleration-type magic. But he wasn’t quick enough. Katsuto’s barriers hurled Minoru’s body into the distance.

In the midst of excruciating pain and fading consciousness, Minoru desperately maintained his focus. He tried shifting his trajectory upward at a higher momentum. Despite several broken bones and deep internal injuries, he then cast anti-gravity magic on himself.

Minoru’s body ascended into the darkness. Nursing his wounds, he broke through the low-hanging clouds and made his escape.

Mayumi, Kasumi, and Izumi were temporarily admitted to the hospital where Minami was staying. When Tatsuya and Miyuki arrived, the twins were still unconscious. Mayumi, on the other hand, was already able to sit up in bed and speak.

“I’m glad you were not too badly hurt,” Miyuki said.

“I bet Minoru was holding back,” Tatsuya said.

“Minoru is just trying to get to Minami. I’m sure he doesn’t seriously want to fight us.” Mayumi smiled sadly. “Or maybe he just doesn’t want to waste his time on magicians who aren’t even close to his level.”

Miyuki didn’t know what to say.

“Mayumi…”

“Sorry,” Mayumi apologized, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “I sound so childish.”

“That’s all right,” Miyuki replied. “It is always frustrating to lose in battle.”

Mayumi bowed her head, as if on the verge of tears.

“…Have you ever lost in battle before?” she asked.

“O-of course I have,” Miyuki stuttered.

“Sorry…that was a strange question.”

Before things got awkward, Tatsuya changed the subject, “Did Juumonji go after Minoru?”

“I didn’t hear from him directly, but yes, it seems he did,” Mayumi said bitterly. “A Juumonji family member told me.”

She let out a quiet sigh. It wasn’t one of self-mocking or self-pity, but admiration.

“Juumonji is amazing,” she said. “Not many could come out of a fight with Minoru practically unscathed. He really is something.”

“I agree that Juumonji has skill,” Miyuki offered. “But he would have struggled much more if he had been on his own.”

“What do you mean?” Mayumi asked.

“Fighting you and the twins must have worn Minoru out,” Miyuki explained. “If you three had not fought him first, Juumonji might not have come out of the battle unharmed.”

“I don’t know…” Mayumi began, but she quickly shook her head. “Actually, I think I’ll believe you. Thank you.”

She smiled at Miyuki, who returned the gesture with a slight bow.

After ensuring the twins had regained consciousness and could talk, Tatsuya and Miyuki went home. They decided not to visit Minami’s room since they had already seen her in the afternoon and were told that she was asleep after a tiring day of rehab.

“It seems the Saegusa sisters got home safely,” Tatsuya announced as he read a message on his portable terminal.

“I wish they had spent a night at the hospital to recover,” Miyuki replied, “but I suppose they feel more comfortable at home.”

“I doubt a Yotsuba-run hospital puts them at ease,” Tatsuya said. “At the very least, the Saegusa family head wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s not very nice, Tatsuya.” Miyuki frowned. “But you may be right.”

Tatsuya let out a bitter chuckle.

It was a relief to see him smile. For a moment, Miyuki had been afraid her comment had been inappropriate.

“By the way,” she continued, “do you think Juumonji will catch Minoru?”

She wanted to change the subject, but this was not the only reason she brought up Juumonji’s chase. It had been weighing heavily on her mind.

“It won’t be easy,” Tatsuya replied plainly from experience. “As the nickname Iron Wall suggests, the Juumonji family magic is best suited for base defense. It excels in repelling and intercepting attacks. But at the same time, it’s not as good at tracking and capturing.”

“Come to think of it, the Juumonji family magic did not perform well in tracking down the fleeing parasites during the vampire incident,” Miyuki noted.

“Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.” Tatsuya shrugged. “In Juumonji’s case, I’m sure he prefers intercepting to pursuing.”

“You should know better than that, Tatsuya.” Miyuki shook her head in mock reproach. “Suitability and preference do not always align.”

“You got me there.” Tatsuya chuckled, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Miyuki smiled in triumph. But Tatsuya’s smile quickly faded.

“Then again,” he said, “Juumonji’s thoughts don’t really matter in this case.”

Miyuki donned a similarly serious expression.

“Since Minoru’s objective was to infiltrate the hospital, his range of action was limited,” Tatsuya continued. “If he wanted to avoid as much destruction as possible, his potential entry points would be restricted to the main entrance, night entrance, staff entrance, back door, and rooftop. Juumonji simply had to wait.”

“But Minoru has Parade and Qimen Dunjia, both of which can make an opponent lose sight of what is truly in front of them,” Miyuki said. “Even if Juumonji predicted the effects of these spells, it is another story completely to break through them.”

“The thing is,” Tatsuya pressed, “Juumonji doesn’t need to know exactly where Minoru is.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow,” Miyuki said with a shake of the head.

“Magic barriers aren’t only for protection,” Tatsuya explained. “They can also confine someone inside and prevent them from escaping.”

Miyuki let out a small gasp, realizing what he was trying to say.

“I don’t know the exact scale to which Juumonji can expand his barriers, but I doubt it’s less than twenty meters. If he could predict Minoru’s range of movement and encircle that entire area, Minoru couldn’t even use Parade or Qimen Dunjia to escape,” Tatsuya said.

“I see,” Miyuki mused. “If we know where Minoru will appear, then Juumonji should be able to catch him.”

“Despite any magical disguises Minoru might use,” Tatsuya added.

“But in situations where we cannot pinpoint Minoru’s exact location, wouldn’t it be difficult to break through his spells?” Miyuki asked.

“That’s what I think.” Tatsuya nodded. “If my reasoning is correct, trying to capture him while he’s fleeing should prove the most challenging.”

He paused with a wry smile.

“That’s not to say I could capture him myself. If Minoru uses Parade and Qimen Dunjia at the same time, even my Elemental Sight would have trouble detecting him.”

“Hmm…” Miyuki murmured.

“Anyway, the best solution might just be to use manpower to search for him the old-fashioned way. Let’s rely on the Saegusa and Kudou family networks to track him down,” Tatsuya said with a sigh.

“I was too naive…”

Minoru muttered remorsefully as he leaned back in his cabinet seat with a sigh. He had just boarded a cabinet heading north ten minutes ago to escape Katsuto’s family team. Thanks to his parasite’s regenerative abilities, the injuries inflicted by Katsuto had already fully healed. Now that his cabinet had been loaded onto a trailer, he was finally certain that he had successfully escaped.

Still, Minoru didn’t dare remove his Parade disguise. Although cabinets were supposedly private spaces, he couldn’t be sure how reliable that was. It was always possible that public security installed surveillance cameras for the Ten Master Clans to watch the footage.

Despite his inability to relax completely, Minoru found a moment to reflect on his failures of that night. He had never meant to underestimate the Ten Master Clans, but he realized now that he had been dismissive. It had been a mistake to believe he could kidnap Minami on his own.

He had even failed at infiltrating the hospital. While he had managed to get the Saegusa sisters out of his way, the head of the Juumonji family was ultimately the main obstacle in the way of his plan.

That’s not to say Mayumi, Kasumi, and Izumi were easily defeated. Although the battle seemed like a decisive victory in Minoru’s favor because it ended so quickly, each of the sisters proved to be far more formidable than he had expected.

Taking on the twins individually wouldn’t have been that hard. In fact, even if they had attacked together, it wouldn’t have posed much of a threat to Minoru at his current level.

It was their Multiplicative Cast that had pushed him into a corner. The ice magic that Izumi cast over his body was more than just a tactic to catch him off guard. If he hadn’t had his parasite’s regenerative abilities, he might have found himself in a tough spot. He also couldn’t have countered Nitrogen Storm as effectively if he didn’t know it was the twins’ specialty.

Mayumi proved to be even stronger than Kasumi and Izumi’s magic combined. The tipping point was when Minoru was forced to use old Chinese magic with a transformation medium. That had not been part of his plan. He was also thrown off guard when Mayumi broke through his Parade.

Then, there was Katsuto Juumonji. Minoru didn’t know him very well at all. Although they had met before, he had no memory of exchanging more than casual greetings.

It was only after fighting him that Minoru realized how formidable Katsuto was. Or rather, how formidable his defense was. Katsuto was truly the embodiment of an Iron Wall. Even in hindsight, Minoru couldn’t figure out how to break through his defenses.

The fact that he had just fought the Saegusa sisters minutes before was no excuse. While the back-to-back fights did leave him somewhat depleted, Minoru had expected this and proceeded with his plan despite the risks. He doubted he could have outmaneuvered Katsuto even if he hadn’t been worn out from the fight with Mayumi and the twins. It’s not that Minoru believed he was destined to lose; he just couldn’t see a way to defeat him.

Juumonji might even be a more difficult opponent than Tatsuya, he thought.

Phalanx neutralized illusions and transformed bodies, and Katsuto’s strategy consisted of confining and attacking at a wide range.

Clearly, Minoru couldn’t overcome this alone.

He sat in the cabinet, grinding his teeth in frustration.

The day after Minoru’s attack, Maya called Tatsuya for an in-person meeting. He boarded a VTOL piloted by Hyougo and took the familiar underground route to the Yotsuba main house. When he arrived, it was still morning.

“I’m sorry for waking you up so early,” Maya greeted him.

The real issue was why she had summoned him to an in-person meeting so early in the day, when they could have simply talked over the phone.

“I have important news from my source at the Pentagon,” she explained. “Given the content, I thought it would be best to discuss it with you directly.”

Even after the USA became the USNA, the Department of Defense remained in the same place. Since the building also preserved its external appearance, it was still commonly referred to as the Pentagon.

“I didn’t know you had a source at the Pentagon,” Tatsuya remarked.

Ayako hadn’t mentioned General Balance. While she and Tatsuya had a personal relationship, she was professional enough to keep sensitive information to herself.

“I’ll introduce you to them sometime,” Maya said with a subtle smile.

Even though Tatsuya had been formally named a member of the Yotsuba family, he still wasn’t privy to all its secrets. There were many things he had discovered without being told, but he was far from knowing everything.

“Anyway, this is what I heard,” Maya began, shifting back to the topic at hand.

“I’m listening,” Tatsuya responded, refocusing his attention.

“It seems the Stars have organized an execution team.”

“An execution team?” Tatsuya echoed. “Not a detainment team? That’s a little unexpected.”

They had predicted with almost one hundred percent certainty that the Stars would send a search team to track Lina down. But the fact that the team came together an entire week after Lina had left the country was a surprising delay. Finding out the team’s intention was assassination was completely unexpected.

Major Angie Sirius was a state-recognized strategic-class magician. Since the USNA had abundant conventional military forces, they might prioritize her differently than other nations would, but she was still a valuable asset.

“I was told the Pentagon had nothing to do with this decision,” Maya continued.

“So the Stars are moving independently?” Tatsuya asked.

“Under the government’s tacit approval.”

“It sounds like the USNA is dealing with some deep internal conflicts.”

“Yes, I think that’s fair to say,” Maya agreed.

Tatsuya couldn’t quite grasp the nature of the conflict, but he guessed one side saw Lina as an obstacle, while the other considered assassination a lesser evil than her defecting to another country. Maya probably knew more than she was letting on but was keeping it to herself for now.

“Do you know exactly where the execution team will enter Japan?” Tatsuya asked.

“If we did, would you take care of it?” Maya responded with a question of her own.

“If you order me to get rid of them, I will.”

There was no hesitation in Tatsuya’s voice. Maya’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. From their expressions, it was clear that neither of them was averse to killing.

The Stars members had entered Japan to commit an illegal act—assassination in a sovereign nation. Both Tatsuya and Maya reasoned that the Stars had no right to complain if they ended up getting killed along the way.

“Unfortunately, we still haven’t identified the team’s infiltration route,” Maya said. “But we do know their expected arrival time.”

“And what time is that?” Tatsuya asked.

“Tonight.”

Tatsuya scoffed. “…That doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

“Not at all.”

Maya covered her mouth with one hand and let out an amused chuckle.

“…Forgive me,” she said. “But I’ll have you know, I’m not just sitting idly by. I sent Yotsuba people to airports and air force bases in the Tokyo metropolitan area. We can’t cover sea routes, but I don’t believe that will be an issue.”

“The only problem is if they use airports outside the metropolitan area,” Tatsuya immediately noted.

“Correct,” Maya affirmed.

She didn’t seem either displeased or impressed by Tatsuya’s observation. In fact, she probably took it for granted that he would recognize the issue.

“Since we can’t cover every potential entry point, our policy will be to handle the situation as soon as it has been detected,” she said.

“All right,” Tatsuya agreed.

“Then, I will leave it to you from there,” Maya said vaguely.

“Do you want me to get rid of the intruders?” Tatsuya asked solemnly.

“It would be simpler and cleaner that way”—Maya hesitated—“but the government may have different ideas.”

Tatsuya nodded knowingly. “I’ll aim to capture them, if possible.”

“Perfect,” Maya agreed.

With that, she stood up, signaling the end of her business. Tatsuya followed suit with a deep bow.

After narrowly escaping from the Juumonji-Saegusa alliance, Minoru disembarked from his cabinet in Toyama and entered a discreet café with private rooms. He needed to make sure he had completely shaken off the team on his trail.

In the completely automated café, Minoru faced a different kind of privacy challenge. Since the facility was serviced by androids—especially gynoids, or female robots—he could avoid interacting with human staff and other customers. However, these robots could potentially pose the risk of network surveillance.

Luckily, Minoru had altered his appearance with Parade, so he was not particularly concerned about being spotted by cameras. In contemporary Japan, avoiding camera surveillance in public spaces was almost impossible anyway.

The café offered not only drinks and snacks but also internet service and exclusive in-store video content. Minoru simply ordered drinks and made no use of the other services.

To pass the time, he decided to try his hand at divination. Based on the knowledge he had gained from Gongjin Zhou, he knew that while he couldn’t hope to make perfect predictions, he could obtain abstract information to guide his future actions.

He pulled out a cloth divination board from his waist pouch. It was a handkerchief-size black fabric embroidered with green, red, yellow, white, and blue threads. This was not the standard Qimen Dunjia, but a tool adapted from traditional Qimen Dunjia divination.

According to the results, the keywords southwest, island, sky, and port marked his lucky location.

“Sky” and “port” have to mean airport, he reasoned. Is there an island with an airport southwest of here? Or maybe the island is an airport.

The two possibilities that fit this description based on his current location were Kansai International Airport and Kobe Airport. Minoru’s intuition led him to choose the former as his destination.

He then tried divining the time he should be there. The words today and night appeared. Though he still had some time to spare, he decided it would be better to arrive early, given the uncertainty of what might happen when he got there. Once enough time had passed to be certain no one was following him, Minoru left his private room at the café and headed back to the station to catch another cabinet.

During this time of year, sunset wasn’t until well past 7 PM in the Kansai region. On a clear day, the lingering twilight could fend off the encroaching darkness for a while. This day, however, the sky was covered with thick clouds that beckoned in the nightfall.

A direct flight from Los Angeles had just arrived at Kansai International Airport. Since most of its passengers were American, a young Caucasian man and boy did not stand out in the crowd.

Maya’s information and Tatsuya’s prediction had been mostly right. The only mistake was that the group arriving today was not an execution squad but an advance team.

The young man wearing dark sunglasses to cover his prosthetic right eye was Lieutenant Jacob Regulus. He was the sole representative dispatched by the Stars.

The boy accompanying him was Raymond Clark. His return to Japan was not initiated by his father, Edward; it was a decision made among the parasites.

Raymond had become a parasite with a twisted obsession to eliminate Tatsuya Shiba. Fueled by this strong fixation, he led the parasites’ efforts to assassinate the former Taurus Silver.

“Looks like the train platforms are that way,” Raymond said, glancing back at Regulus.

They had just successfully entered Japan with fake passports and emerged into the arrival lobby.

You want to take the train? Regulus asked telepathically.

“Shh!” Raymond quickly cautioned.

“Oh, sorry,” Regulus apologized.

Listening devices couldn’t pick up telepathic communication. But other magicians with supernatural abilities could detect it. For Raymond and Regulus, the latter was far more dangerous than the former.

For one, listening devices had a range limit. They could pick up voices from considerable distances of a specific target and even filter specific voices in a crowd with voiceprint technology. But if the target’s location wasn’t known, listening devices could only recognize keywords and attempt to track those sounds.

Telepathy, on the other hand, had no inherent limitations on distance. While its range varied depending on individual ability, it was not bound by physical distance like other forms of magic. Telepathic communication was also relatively rare.

That said, it was entirely possible for someone to overhear a telepathic conversation and recognize the speakers involved. To avoid this, Raymond and Regulus had agreed not to use telepathy.

The main problem was that telepathy was a natural mode of communication for parasites. Regulus had used it accidentally, thinking he was speaking aloud.

He quickly apologized for his mistake, but Raymond’s caution proved to be well founded.

“This is Officer Karasawa from the Kobe Maritime Police Station. We’ve detected a telepathic signal. The source appears to be passengers arriving on a recent flight from Los Angeles. Could you verify their entry information? Over.”

A Yotsuba family magician sent to assist with airport security detected Regulus’s telepathic signal. He promptly used his radio transmitter to contact the security center for information on the passengers from the recent flight.

“Checking now,” airport security responded.

Then, after a brief pause, “We aren’t seeing any magicians on the passenger list. There might be passport forgery involved. Officer Karasawa, can you provide more details on their appearance?”

“They are two men—one in his twenties, the other in his late teens,” Karasawa responded. “Both are Caucasian. The man has gray hair and sunglasses; the teenager is blond. I believe the telepathic signal came from the man with gray hair. They seem to be heading toward the cabinet boarding area.”

“Sending reinforcements,” airport security said. “Make sure they stay in sight. Take photos and send them to us if you can.”

“Roger that.”

“Raymond,” Regulus whispered. “I think the cops are on to us.”

The teenager spun to him in surprise, “How?”

Regulus was the first to notice the uniformed officer on their trail. Under usual circumstances, Raymond, too, should have noticed they were being pursued. The fact that the officer was able to go undetected for so long was more a testament to his exceptional skill than Raymond’s inexperience.

“It’s my fault.” Regulus grimaced. “I think they detected my telepathic signal.”

Despite his amateur mistake, Regulus was an elite magician officer. He was often assigned sniper roles during operations, which required sharp observational skills. Given his background, it would be challenging for a uniformed officer to follow him unnoticed.

“What now, Jack?” Raymond whispered.

“Unfortunately, our unfamiliarity with the area puts us at a disadvantage in a game of hide and seek,” Regulus replied.

“So what do we do?” Raymond asked.

“Drop the bags,” Regulus advised. “We’re not carrying anything important in them anyway.”

The Stars knew the pair would not be able to sneak weapons past customs, so Regulus and Raymond were unarmed. Their plan was to procure their gear from the USNA embassy in Tokyo upon arrival.

“Do you have your passport on you?” Regulus asked.

“Yes.” Raymond nodded, regaining his composure.

“Good. Now run!”

The two of them dropped their suitcases and sprinted in a random direction.

“This is Officer Karasawa,” the uniformed officer tailing Raymond and Regulus reported into his handheld radio. “The pair suspected of illegal entry have abandoned their suitcases and begun to flee. They are now headed toward the manned taxi stand.”

“Keep following them,” airport security responded. “And send us photos of the suitcases. We will take care of them.”

“Understood.” Karasawa nodded, picking up the pace.

He used his information terminal to take and send the photos of the abandoned suitcases for evidence.

“We received the data,” airport security replied immediately.

“Permission to use magic for mobility?” Karasawa asked.

“Granted.”

Karasawa quickly cast a spell that lifted him above the crowd.

“He’s coming after us!” Raymond shouted.

Regulus was more shocked that the officer was acting so conspicuously in such a crowded indoor area.

“Is he out of his mind?!” he muttered.

Officers rarely chased people down like this in the USNA. Many states even had laws that restricted the police’s use of magic to avoid psychologically intimidating the public. Civilians witnessed much more magic cast by firefighters than general law enforcement.

Japan had those same laws in most regions of the country, but the Hanshin area was a notable exception. Even if Regulus and Raymond had known this, they probably couldn’t have avoided the situation.

With a wave of his hand, Raymond used his new parasite-given psychokinesis to try to push the pursuing officer away. Karasawa, who had been closing in rapidly, was blasted backward.

“Raymond!” Regulus scolded.

“I had no choice!” Raymond screeched back.

Regulus shut his mouth. What was done was done. The problem was that their cover was blown. They had revealed that they could use magic despite what their fake passports said.

The area filled with traces of magic activation. The officer who Raymond had just thrown recovered quickly, and Regulus sensed the presence of still others beginning to surround them. He figured they were reinforcements.

A surge of panic coursed through him. He hadn’t thought they would slip up at their very first step into Japan. They had chosen to land at Kansai International Airport under the presumption that major airports and bases in the Tokyo metropolitan area would be heavily monitored. Clearly, this precaution had been completely in vain. Even though he only had himself to blame, Regulus was shocked that such a minor mistake had led to such huge repercussions so quickly.

His heart sank. Maybe it had been reckless to sneak into Japan without local aid. Nevertheless, surrendering and allowing themselves to be captured at this point was out of the question.

“There’s no other choice,” he sighed. “It’s time to break the rules.”

He activated a self-acceleration spell and darted through the crowd with incredible speed. Raymond quickly followed, bumping into some passersby in the process. Ignoring the potential injuries they may have caused, the two reached the manned taxi stand, which doubled as a tourist information point.

“Let’s steal a car,” Regulus said.

“Got it!” Raymond responded enthusiastically.

Regulus was a top-tier member of the Stars—the world’s most elite magic corps. Once he was prepared for combat, he had no qualms about facing the police. Raymond, on the other hand, wasn’t a soldier or an officer, but his lack of experience meant he wasn’t burdened by fear. In this situation, that turned out to be an advantage.

The pair searched for a taxi that looked fast with a driver who wouldn’t put up a fight. However, what caught their attention wasn’t a taxi at all—instead, their gaze was drawn to a sleek black luxury sedan. It was the kind of car you would expect belonged to a high-ranking member of a crime syndicate.

Get in.

Raymond and Regulus exchanged glances. The voice that had spoken to them telepathically definitely came from a fellow parasite.

The young men exchanged a nod and made their way to the black sedan. Regulus swung open the rear door, while Raymond opened the front passenger door. As soon as they were both inside, the sedan accelerated forward, and a powerful magic enveloped the vehicle.

Is this…Parade? Regulus whispered telepathically.

“It is, but could you tone down the telepathy?”

As the voice shifted from telepathy to speech, Regulus finally took a proper look at the speaker. One glance and he was utterly at a loss for words. For a second, he even forgot to breathe. The boy sitting next to him was more breathtakingly beautiful than he thought was humanly possible.

If it were just about physical beauty, Angie Sirius’s true form was not far behind. But while Lina was dazzling, she had a warm personality that made her seem relatable.

This boy, on the other hand, exuded an allure so striking that it bordered on otherworldly. There was a seductive, supernatural quality to his beauty. Despite the circumstances, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if the boy was a fallen angel graced with ethereal charm.

“Telepathy might be difficult to fully camouflage. Even with Parade,” the boy continued, unbothered by Regulus’s rude gaze.

He seemed used to being stared at.

“R-right. Sorry,” Regulus stammered. “And thanks. You saved our necks back there.”

He smiled and then realized he hadn’t introduced himself yet, “Oh! I’m Jacob Rogers. But everyone calls me Jack.”

Rogers was Regulus’s real last name.

“Don’t worry about it.” The boy smiled back. “I’m Minoru Kudou.”

Raymond turned around and joined the backseat conversation from the front of the car.

“Raymond Clark,” he said. “Wasn’t Kudou originally one of the Ten Master Clans?”

He precariously shared information he had gained from Hlidskjalf.

“That’s right. Are you related to the founder of Dione Project, Mr. Clark?”

“I am,” Raymond replied. “You can call me Raymond, by the way. I’m pretty sure we’re only a year apart.”

“All right,” Minoru agreed. “Is there anywhere you want me to take you?”

Regulus suddenly turned serious. “I bet the cops have the hotel we booked surrounded.”

“Most likely.” Minoru nodded. “They probably have your passport information, too.”

Regulus frowned. He figured they had been photographed and their forged passports examined. However, hearing it from someone else made him feel a rising sense of panic.

“Would you like me to arrange new passports and a place for you to stay?” Minoru offered. “The passports would be American with proper entry records, of course.”

Regulus felt a surge of wariness before he could even consider thanking him.

“That would be helpful,” he replied cautiously, “but why do you want to help us?”

Minoru smiled in a way that evoked both awe and an unsettling chill.

“Because I’m one of you,” he replied.

Regulus knew this already, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the boy’s motives than he let on.

“Also,” Minoru continued, “there is something I would like your help with in return.”

“And what’s that?” Raymond answered promptly.

He didn’t seem to share Regulus’s wariness. In terms of parasite behavior, Raymond’s reaction was more natural. Though each possessed an individual consciousness, parasites considered themselves part of a collective that shared a unified will. Betraying a fellow parasite wasn’t just improbable; it was impossible.

“There is a girl I want to convert to our side,” Minoru explained.

“Ooh, your girlfriend?” Raymond pressed with a twinkle in his eye.

“No.” Minoru shook his head. “My affections are one sided. Of course, I’m not planning to convert her by force. If she doesn’t want to turn into a parasite, I’m prepared to back down.”

“Now, that’s dedication.” Raymond beamed. “I admire you for that.”

Minoru’s words made Regulus uneasy. Giving up on turning someone into a fellow parasite was fundamentally against a parasite’s instincts. It was almost too human. On top of that, Regulus couldn’t read Minoru’s mind. He couldn’t access the consciousness that should form a part of their shared will.

Minoru was undoubtedly a parasite. That much Regulus knew instinctively. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that the ethereal boy was somehow different.

The local authorities reported the illegal telepathic tourists to the Futatsugi family, who then immediately shared the information with the Ten Master Clans. Tatsuya received the news via a phone call from Hayama around midnight.

“A telepathic signal was detected at Kansai Airport?” he echoed.

“That is correct,” Hayama said. “The Kuroba family is searching for the culprits as we speak. Lady Maya requests that you continue to stay on standby between Tokyo and Miyaki Island.”

“If the illegal tourists are from the Stars, they are probably after Lina,” Tatsuya reasoned. “All right. I’ll stay vigilant on my end.”

“Excellent,” Hayama replied. “I will send you the photos the police took of the two men. One of them is Raymond Clark.”

Tatsuya’s eyes widened slightly at the name.

“Raymond Clark?”

“Yes. While we do not yet have definitive proof, we suspect he has become a parasite based on the psion wave patterns observed at the time of the sighting,” Hayama explained.

“You can identify parasites with a psion radar now? That’s a significant breakthrough,” Tatsuya remarked.

“It is all thanks to the experimental parasite you secured for us,” Hayama replied.

In February of the previous year, the Yotsuba family had taken the parasite sealed in First High’s training forest. Maya had revealed this suddenly during the recent Ten Master Clans emergency meeting.

Tatsuya’s remark about the psion radar had been a subtle jab at that fact, but it went over Hayama’s head. Luckily, Tatsuya didn’t have any real intention of scoring points against the butler. All that truly mattered was the fact that they had developed a mechanical means of detecting parasites.

“Can that radar detect Minoru, too?” Tatsuya asked.

“Kurebayashi is currently working on a psion radar adjusted specifically for Minoru Kudou,” Hayama replied. “It is only a matter of time before it is complete.”

Kurebayashi was the Yotsuba family’s third butler who served as the head of their technical department at the former Lab Four’s adjustment facility. He was an accomplished magical engineer and Tatsuya’s first mentor in magic engineering.

“All right.” Tatsuya nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I will tell Kurebayashi you say so.” Hayama bowed. “By the way, how is Major Sirius doing?”

“Well, she isn’t bored yet,” Tatsuya replied.

“That is good to hear. If there is anything she ever needs, I will make sure it gets to her immediately.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Excellent.”

After exchanging brief goodbyes, the visiphone screen went dark.

Tatsuya had been in his own room, rather than the living room, while taking Hayama’s call. Miyuki, who was on a strict early-to-bed, early-to-rise schedule, was probably already in bed. But when the call ended, Tatsuya’s thoughts turned not to Miyuki but to Ayako.

He figured the other illegal parasite tourist was a Stars magician. It made sense for the Yotsuba family to put the Kuroba family in charge of tracking the two parasites. This also meant Fumiya and Ayako would probably get involved.

The Kuroba twins were currently high school students. Unlike Tatsuya, they weren’t exempt from attending classes. Nevertheless, it seemed likely that the Kuroba family would prioritize the mission over their education.

Tatsuya wasn’t too worried about Fumiya. His Direct Pain was a type of mental interference magic that would prove effective against parasites. In fact, it might be perfect for the task.

Ayako, on the other hand, lacked the offensive means against parasites. She could deal damage to their physical forms, but reaching their core would prove more difficult. Still, Tatsuya thought she could hold her own against the Stars. At the very least, she should be able to escape if the odds turned against her.

Then again, if she were to encounter Minoru…

Tatsuya shook his head to dispel his worry.

No, I’m thinking too much.

The Kuroba family had been put in charge of locating the American intruders, not of finding Minoru. Unfortunately, Tatsuya didn’t consider the possibility that the two had joined forces.

Minoru took Raymond and Regulus to Kobe’s Chinatown, a small area also known as Nankin-machi. Before World War III, Chinatowns had sprung up throughout Japan, but only the ones in Yokohama and Kobe managed to stick around.

Both of these Chinatowns had served as a base for Gongjin Zhou. The workers there accepted Minoru as their new master without question, despite his physical appearance. For them, the only thing that mattered was that he possessed the key to the treasure vault, which only the true master could access.

Gongjin’s spirit had given Minoru the knowledge of how the key worked, allowing him to open the vault without a problem. Needless to say, he was disappointed to find nothing but junk inside the vault, but that was another story.

On Thursday the twenty-seventh, Minoru met with Raymond and Regulus to discuss their plans.

“…So let me get this straight,” Minoru began. “Major Sirius went rogue, and your current objective is to track her down?”

Regulus held back the urge to use telepathy and nodded.

“If possible, I’ll take down Major Sirius myself. If that proves too difficult, I’ll wait for my teammates to arrive, so we can defeat her together.”

“When will your teammates come to Japan?” Minoru asked.

“They’re scheduled to arrive at Zama Base four days from now, on the night of July first,” Regulus replied. “But after the Stars operation in February, we can only expect the strictest surveillance. Once they get here, I doubt we will be able to interact freely. We’ll need to gather the necessary intel and achieve our objective in a single blow.”

The operation in February that Regulus mentioned referred to the assassination mission that Canopus led to prevent Gu Jie from falling into Japanese hands. After that incident, the National Defense Force adopted a more rigid stance toward the USNA to avoid losing face again. The whole event not only shook the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry; it also initiated a deep discontent among National Defense Force personnel. This led to ongoing tensions and awkward relations on the Japanese military front.

“All right,” Minoru said. “I’ll have my men be on the lookout for Major Sirius.”

“Your men? You mean the members of the Kudou family?” Raymond interjected. “But I thought Haruaki was the Kudou family heir. You make it sound like you have command of your own group.”

“You sure know your stuff, Raymond.” Minoru chuckled. “Did you look that up on Hlidskjalf?”

Raymond was taken aback.

“How do you know about Hlidskjalf?!” he exclaimed.

Minoru grinned mysteriously. On an ordinary person, the smile might have seemed deflective, but on Minoru, it became an enigmatic smirk.

“I have my ways,” he said.

“……”

“We appreciate your help with the search,” Regulus interjected.

He hoped to bring the conversation back on track while ignoring Raymond, who was still frozen in shock.

“So what do you want us to do?” he continued. “Bring your girlfriend here?”

“That would be great. But it’s impossible,” Minoru said wryly.

Thinking the boy underestimated his strength, Regulus frowned. Minoru saw his offended look but took his time to correct the misunderstanding.

“You see,” he said nonchalantly, “she is connected to the Yotsuba family.”

Regulus’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “You mean the Yotsuba family?”

“That’s right.” Minoru nodded. “The untouchable Yotsuba. The girl I’m after is merely a servant, but her proximity to the Yotsuba family heiress is what makes things tricky.”

“So she’s close to Miyuki…” Raymond murmured.

“She is currently hospitalized in Tokyo,” Minoru explained. “Unfortunately, the Ten Master Clans have come together to tighten security around the place to catch me now that I’m a parasite.”

“You mean, all ten Master Clans are working against you?” Regulus asked.

“Correct.” Minoru nodded again. “I already fought against the Saegusa and Juumonji families, but they’re the least of my worries.”

He’d had a rough encounter with Katsuto just two nights ago, but he already came up with a way to slip past the Saegusa and Juumonji guards.

“The real challenge is the final hurdle—the Yotsuba family defenses. Specifically, Tatsuya Shiba. You probably know him. In fact, I believe he has quite a history with you two,” Minoru said.

“Yes, we know him,” Regulus replied.

Raymond looked like he had something to say but ultimately chose to keep quiet and listen.

“The Yotsuba family magicians are in a league of their own,” Minoru continued. “And especially if Tatsuya gets involved, I have no hope of reaching my target.”

Their last encounter had ended in a stalemate, but neither party had been fully committed. This didn’t mean that they were holding back; they simply couldn’t justify killing one another in the moment.

Next time, however, Minoru had no intention of cutting corners. Battling Tatsuya was different from a face-off with Katsuto. In Tatsuya’s case, it wasn’t just a matter of clashing ideals. It was a battle of wills, a struggle that touched the very core of Minoru’s existence. To continue backing down from the fight would be as if he were admitting that what he was doing was wrong.

That said, if Minoru were to go all out, the battle would probably end in mutual destruction. That would be meaningless. If he failed, he could no longer save Minami.

Minoru found himself trapped in this dilemma. And though he hadn’t fully acknowledged it, this wasn’t the only concern gnawing at him. He and Tatsuya had been evenly matched the last time they fought, but since then, Tatsuya could have come up with new magic specifically to counter parasites.

Minoru had acquired many new spells by absorbing Gongjin’s knowledge. But Gongjin was still just a spirit. He couldn’t create anything new. Tatsuya, on the other hand, was backed by the Yotsuba family’s former Lab Four and Yakumo Kokonoe, one of Japan’s top ancient magic practitioners. What Minoru truly feared deep down wasn’t Tatsuya’s strength. It was the collective wisdom of Tatsuya and those around him.

“So you want us to fight Tatsuya?” Regulus asked.

Minoru nodded. “You don’t have to defeat him. I just need you to make sure he is out of the way when I go pick up the girl.”

“A diversion,” Regulus noted.

“Exactly.”

“That sounds lazy, if you ask me!” Raymond interjected on the verge of hysterics. “If Tatsuya is in your way, then crush him. Otherwise, he’ll just go after you once you kidnap your girl.”

Minoru frowned at Raymond’s tone but kept his cool.

“You can crush him if you want. But I will transform the girl into a parasite the same day, if she agrees. If she doesn’t, I’ll have her home in a matter of hours.”

“Coward!” Raymond yelled. “Do you really love this girl? If you’re going as far as to kidnap her, it seems strange to willingly give her back!”

“That’s enough, Raymond,” Regulus chided him.

But Raymond didn’t hear him.

“Tatsuya is in everyone’s way! It’s time he disappeared!”

“I said cool it!” Regulus bellowed with a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder.

He turned to Minoru. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind,” Minoru said.

And he really looked like he meant it.

“I think we should get rid of Tatsuya, too, but I’m happy to prioritize your goals,” Regulus said.

“Thank you,” Minoru replied.

“But if we can defeat him, you wouldn’t mind, right?”

“Of course not.” Minoru smiled.

There was a slight but imperceptible lag to his answer.

After spending the morning on Miyaki Island, Tatsuya headed to First High in the afternoon and spent his class time in the library. Once dismissal rolled around, he headed to the disciplinary committee headquarters instead of the student council room.

“Is Mikihiko here?” he called.

“Tatsuya!” Mikihiko exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were at school today.”

Luckily, he had desk work instead of rounds this day, so he was right where Tatsuya was looking for him.

“I’ve only been here since noon,” Tatsuya said.

A small, shadowed figure tried to quietly slip past him as he spoke. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you holding up, Kasumi?” Tatsuya asked.

Kasumi reluctantly stopped in her tracks.

“…I’m fine,” she murmured. “Thanks for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Tatsuya said.

She gave him a curt bow and skittered out of the room.

“Did something happen?” Mikihiko asked quizzically.

The exchange was awkward enough that it made perfect sense for him to ask. But Tatsuya had other things to take care of.

“Don’t worry about it. I came to ask you for a favor,” he said.

“Me?”

Tatsuya nodded. “Remember what I told you about Minoru?”

Mikihiko turned pale, realizing the favor had to do with parasites.

“Of course,” he replied slowly.

“He showed up near Minami’s hospital the other night.”

“Wait, then that means…” Mikihiko trailed off with a look of realization.

He quickly went around locking up the disciplinary committee room. Then he took out a talisman to seal off the room with a barrier. Once he was done, he turned back to Tatsuya.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Take a seat.”

“Sure.”

The boys sat across from each other at a long table.

“Let me get this straight,” Mikihiko began hesitantly. “You fought Minoru two days ago?”

“Right.” Tatsuya nodded calmly. “I wasn’t physically injured, but Minoru put me to sleep with illusion magic. I also got hit by an oxygen deprivation spell, so I was worried about any lasting effects. Luckily, I’m fine, though.”

“That’s a relief,” Mikihiko said, noticeably more comforted than Tatsuya.

He leaned forward. “So what do you need from me? If you’re trying to capture Minoru, I’m more than happy to help.”

As he had said on Monday, Mikihiko firmly believed that dealing with parasites was originally the responsibility of ancient magic practitioners like himself.

“I definitely might need your help eventually,” Tatsuya replied. “But today, I came to ask you to guide my training.”

“What training?” Mikihiko asked, puzzled.

Tatsuya explained the details of his training plan.

“Unfortunately, I only have time after school, so you’ll need to take a break from your disciplinary committee duties for a while. Can you do that?”

“Are you kidding?” Mikihiko chuckled.

It amused him how, despite dealing with Minami’s illness and the threat of supernatural beings, Tatsuya was still concerned about something as trivial as his extracurricular responsibilities. His friend’s sense of duty struck Mikihiko as oddly endearing.

“How could anyone think disciplinary committee work is more important than your training?” he continued. “Besides, I was just thinking of passing down the role of committee chairman. This is the perfect opportunity.”

Mikihiko readily agreed to Tatsuya’s request.

It was generally believed that monsters were active in the darkness of night. Vampires especially fit that image. Parasites, however, weren’t averse to sunlight and typically followed the same habits as humans. As long as they didn’t have a reason to do otherwise, they woke up in the morning and slept at night.

They also didn’t experience jet lag. Regulus found this particularly interesting. But since he wasn’t a researcher, he would probably never find out why. He decided to abandon his curiosity and climb into bed.

Just as he lay down, there was a knock at the door. He immediately knew who it was. When he opened the door, he was not surprised to see Raymond standing there alone.

“Can I come in?” the teenager asked.

“Sure,” Regulus said.

In all honesty, it was not the best time. But from the moment he opened the door, Regulus figured this late-night visit meant Raymond had something important to discuss.

“What’s up?” Regulus asked.

“I wanted to talk to you about Minoru,” Raymond began.

“What about him? He seems normal to me.”

“Really?” Raymond asked incredulously. “I think he’s strange.”

“What do you mean?”

Raymond remained silent for a moment, not out of hesitation but to consider his words carefully.

“…You know how our telepathy doesn’t work across national borders for some reason?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, once telepathy is established, we share the same consciousness. That should apply to parasites no matter where they’re from.”

Raymond and Regulus had both become parasites after the micro black hole experiment earlier that month. Minoru’s parasite, on the other hand, came from a different experiment conducted in November 2095. It had essentially come back to life and changed hosts. Despite these differences in origin, every parasite was fundamentally the same kind of being. Both Minoru and Raymond intuitively—or rather, instinctively—knew this.

Technically speaking, Minoru’s parasite could trace its roots back to the same experimental facility in Dallas, USNA. This meant that Raymond’s claim about their different origins wasn’t entirely accurate.

“What are you trying to say, Raymond?” Regulus pressed.

“Why isn’t Minoru on the same page as us?”

“About Tatsuya Shiba, you mean?”

“Exactly.” Raymond nodded. “We should all want to eliminate him. So why didn’t Minoru agree with our plan?”

“He wasn’t exactly against getting rid of Tatsuya.” Regulus shrugged. “He just has other priorities.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. We already made defeating Tatsuya our ultimate priority.”

“We made that decision back in the States,” Regulus pointed out. “You just said our telepathy can’t cross national borders.”

Realizing his contradiction, Raymond fell silent.

“Parasites are drawn to humans with pure intentions and strong desires,” Regulus explained. “In essence, they are attracted by strong will.”

Regulus’s words highlighted the duality of parasites. A parasite’s perspective before merging with a human, and a human’s before being consumed by a parasite coexisted within the single transformed creature.

“It seems Minoru’s strongest desire is his wish to save the woman he loves. I’m not surprised that would take priority for him,” Regulus continued.

That morning, Minoru had intimately explained to Regulus and Raymond why he wanted to turn Minami into a parasite. Yet he continually omitted Minami’s name.

“But it’s not right!” Raymond insisted. “Tatsuya has to be our priority target!”

“I understand how you feel…” Regulus trailed off.

Raymond’s insistence had made him feel the need to eliminate Tatsuya, too. However, his reasoning was driven by the duty to neutralize a strategic-class magician who posed a threat to his country.

Raymond’s original plan was not to eliminate Tatsuya but to bring him to his knees. The shift toward elimination was influenced by the collective will of the Stars parasites, who saw Material Burst as a threat.

This was a perfect example of the parasites reaching a consensus. While the individual with the strongest desire often took priority in the parasites’ collective consciousness, this didn’t mean that one person’s will completely dominated the others.

For example, even when Minoru became the leader, the wills of Regulus and Raymond were not completely overwritten. Each of their thoughts still contributed to their collective decision-making.

“…That’s it,” Raymond said. “I’m going to talk with Minoru tonight.”

“If that’s what it takes to make you feel better,” Regulus replied.

He had confirmed the previous night that it was possible to communicate with Minoru telepathically. Since Regulus, Raymond, and Minoru were connected, Regulus would hear Raymond and Minoru’s telepathic talk.

Someone always ended up taking the initiative in parasite groups. Regulus had no reason to stop Raymond from doing just that.

Minoru woke up in the middle of the night. The cause was not any physiological need. He was stirred by a murmuring voice deep in his mind.

Are you awake, Minoru/us?

A wry smile spread across Minoru’s lips.

Raymond? What do you want at this hour?

It was important to note that Minoru didn’t recognize the voices in his mind as “Raymond/us.”

You don’t seem surprised, Raymond remarked. I thought this would be the first time talking within our collective consciousness.

It’s my first conversation with another parasite, but not my first time hearing voices, Minoru said.

That can’t be right, Raymond insisted.

Minoru chuckled softly at the confusion in the American teenager’s voice.

You thought telepathy couldn’t cross national borders, didn’t you?

Minoru didn’t mean this mockingly, but the lack of politeness in his telepathy, which differed starkly from how he spoke verbally, made Raymond misinterpret Minoru’s tone as condescending. This sort of misunderstanding didn’t usually happen among parasites with the same consciousness.

That’s where you’re wrong, Minoru continued. Telepathy can definitely cross borders. The fact that the will to merge interfered with me is proof of that. The issue is that when crossing borders, the consciousness can’t understand telepathy as meaningful words. Funny enough, human telepathy is a different story. This is just one of many of the limitations of our parasite abilities.

I had no idea… Raymond murmured.

My theory is that translation doesn’t work properly during transmission from the parasite’s core to its human host’s consciousness, Minoru explained.

Within their shared consciousness, both Raymond and Regulus were rendered speechless.

But that doesn’t matter right now, Minoru said. You’ve made contact with me on such a deep level. There must be something you want to talk to me about.

How do you know all that? Raymond sputtered. I thought you/we are the only parasite in Japan!

There’s one more, Minoru replied calmly. It’s completely sealed away right now, but sometimes it screams in agony when it’s being used in an experiment. I wish I could help it, but there’s a powerful barrier in my way.

Minoru was referring to the parasite in the Yotsuba family’s possession. Its seal, created from Yotsuba mental interference magic, was beyond even Minoru’s parasite-enhanced abilities. Besides, he didn’t even know where this parasite was being held.

Raymond and Regulus fell silent again. Minoru realized he had been greatly underestimated. Of course, the other two heard his thoughts.

Don’t get us wrong, a rushed voice interjected. It’s not that we think little of you/us.

It was Regulus speaking, but Raymond’s telepathic voice was also mixed in.

That’s okay. Minoru nodded. So what’s the matter?

Although Minoru could hear Raymond’s thoughts, he pressed the American teen to state them explicitly for formality’s sake.

We may have individual bodies, Raymond began, but we’re all one living entity. Our intentions should be unified.

Minoru neither agreed nor disagreed. He understood that Raymond and Regulus were this way, but he refused to join them. If he could not remain himself, he couldn’t turn Minami into a parasite. If he couldn’t use his parasite abilities to heal her, there was no meaning in becoming a parasite himself.

Minoru had no intention of denying Raymond and Regulus’s way of being. He simply refused to be included in the “we” and “us” that Raymond referred to.

We intend to eliminate Tatsuya Shiba, Raymond pressed. We need your/our will to be unified!

Suddenly, a wave of thoughts surged into Minoru’s mind. These weren’t just Raymond’s and Regulus’s thoughts. Although they were unaware of it, their minds were still connected with their teammates in the USNA. The collective consciousness of all the parasites at the Stars’ main base rushed in, bombarding Minoru’s psyche. Overt resistance would only lead to the dozens of whispers and unified thoughts overwhelming his consciousness.

Among the myriad thoughts, the most prevalent was the intent to eliminate Tatsuya Shiba. This made sense, given that the Stars had been informed of the strategic-class magician’s threat. Minoru used his strongest wish to face the overwhelming wave of thoughts and combat the collective intent that sought to consume him.

He did not want Minami, per se. Neither did he have any longing to claim Minami as his own. He only wished to save a girl in the same predicament as himself. It was this selfless desire to help someone in need that had led him to abandon his humanity. Because his motivation was for the sake of someone other than himself, he was able to fight off the temptations of the collective thoughts.

Personality was formed through learned behavior. It was shaped by how an individual regulated and channeled their core desires and impulses within their psyche. This process involved deciding what to forbid and what to allow, and it evolved through social and interpersonal interactions that either conformed to or resisted outside influences.

To cast off constraints and live as a being separate from humans driven by desires meant succumbing to those very temptations if they were at the core. It was precisely because Minoru’s motivation was for someone other than himself that he managed to preserve his sense of self.

It was an instantaneous battle that seemed to last for an eternity.

In the realm of the mind, time could not be measured. It was composed of points, rather than a continuous line. The mind could only process the concepts of “a long time” and “a single moment.”

At the end of the eternal mental struggle, Minoru continued to hold his ground.

Raymond, he said, I need you to help me. I’ll bring the girl here first. We can deal with Tatsuya after that.

Fine, Raymond replied. I/we will follow your will.

Minoru maintained his sense of self, but he wasn’t completely unaffected.

Humans, too, could be influenced after hearing the same thing hundreds of times. No matter how someone may deny it, their empathy gradually started to grow.

Even Minoru was not immune to such human weaknesses. He may have insisted on maintaining his identity despite losing his humanity, but he continued to carry his initial strengths and weaknesses.

We’ll get rid of Tatsuya after that, he said.

After being repeatedly bombarded with the demand to eliminate Tatsuya, Minoru’s consciousness was unwittingly guided toward a new goal.

Other than the minor incident of illegal entry at Kansai International Airport, Japan had been relatively peaceful of late. The fierce battle between Minoru and Raymond had taken place on a psychological plane, beyond the awareness of ordinary people. Even anti-magic activists had toned down their aggression.

The USNA had yet to make any belligerent demands for Major Sirius’s return, and the Great Asian Alliance was not meddling in the affairs of the southwestern islands. This lull in diplomatic affairs was so pronounced that both the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the National Defense Force found it unsettling.

The reason for the Great Asian Alliance’s recent silence became clear on Friday, June 28, in a shocking world news report.

“Breaking news,” the tense-voiced news anchor announced.

Tatsuya stopped eating his breakfast, his chopsticks still in hand. Miyuki gently placed hers down to focus on the screen.

The news anchor continued, “Early this morning, the Great Asian Alliance and New Soviet Union entered a state of war.”

Miyuki’s eyes widened in shock. If she had still been holding her chopsticks, she might have dropped them on the table. Tatsuya set down his own utensils to give the broadcast his full attention.

“Late last night, the Great Asian Alliance’s army breached the western border of Lake Khanka and advanced south toward Ussuriysk,” the anchor reported. “The New Soviet Union immediately mobilized its Far East Army stationed in Vladivostok, and both forces clashed approximately thirty kilometers outside Ussuriysk. An intense battle is reportedly ongoing as we speak.”

Miyuki glanced uneasily at Tatsuya. “That can’t be good…”

Tatsuya met her gaze.

“This conflict erupted nearby. Japan will definitely feel the repercussions,” he said with unusual tension in his voice.

A commentator stepped in front of the camera to provide analysis.

“It seems the Great Asian Alliance is trying to seize the southern part of the Primorsky region. The Great Asian Alliance already has the Goryeo Autonomous Region under its control. Therefore, this area, especially Vladivostok, is geopolitically like a knife to the throat. I would say the Alliance has essentially been lying in wait for the right moment to eliminate this threat.”

The news anchor nodded thoughtfully as a map appeared on the screen.

“I see,” he said. “But if Vladivostok is their target, why did the Great Asian Alliance army decide to advance south from Lake Khanka? Wouldn’t it have been quicker to invade from the Goryeo Autonomous Region?”

“The Alliance suffered significant naval losses in its conflict with Japan following the Yokohama Incident. It has yet to recover from that blow,” the analyst explained. “To attack Vladivostok from the south would require naval power, which they no longer have. They probably had no choice but to abandon the route through the Goryeo Autonomous Region.”

“Obviously,” Tatsuya said to the TV.

“Why, then, did the Great Asian Alliance decide to launch an invasion now of all times?” the news anchor asked.

“I believe they have been preparing for this operation for over a year,” the analyst said. “The peace treaty they signed with us in November 2095 was completely in our favor. The Great Asian Alliance’s government needed a military victory to restore its global status. That said, the final trigger may have been a certain rumor that has been circulating among military insiders over the past few days.”

“What kind of rumor?” the news anchor prompted.

The analyst looked reluctant before disclosing, “…They say that Dr. Bezobrazov, the New Soviet Union’s strategic-class magician, is either dead or in a coma.”

“That’s news to me,” Tatsuya interjected.

This must have struck Miyuki as funny, because her face softened, and a giggle escaped her lips.

“When it comes to quality, the New Soviet Union trumps the Great Asian Alliance in military strength,” the analyst continued. “But the Great Asian Alliance has the advantage when it comes to numbers. It’s also important to note that the New Soviet Union’s forces are widely spread across East Asia, Central Asia, and Eastern Europe. Its main force in East Asia is also concentrated farther north in the Siberian army. If the New Soviet Union’s strategic-class magician is out of commission, the Great Asian Alliance may have thought they have a good chance of winning.”

“How credible is the rumor that Dr. Bezobrazov is currently out of action?” the news anchor asked.

“I don’t think it’s completely baseless,” the analyst said slowly. “There was an incident just a week ago where traces of strategic-class magic, presumably from the New Soviet Union, were detected in the skies over Hachioji, Tokyo. However, Dr. Bezobrazov has been missing since shortly before that.”

“There are also reports that the New Soviet Union is responsible for the large-scale magic attack on the Izu Peninsula earlier this month,” the news anchor added.

“Yes.” The analyst nodded. “It’s quite possible that these surprise attacks were conducted by the New Soviet military and Dr. Bezobrazov is simply a scapegoat.”

“It is bizarre to think that the same Dr. Bezobrazov who advocated for world peace with the Dione Project was involved in the Izu Peninsula attack,” the news anchor said.

His assistant, who had been quiet all this time, hastily interrupted, “So what do you expect the Great Asian Alliance will do next?”

The director might have instructed them to steer clear of the Dione Project. The analyst followed the assistant’s lead.

“Well…” he began, “they probably want to settle things before Siberian forces can join the fight. In other words, they could be aiming for a quick victory.”

“Does that mean the New Soviet Union will try to prolong the conflict until reinforcements arrive?” the news anchor offered, this time avoiding any mention of Bezobrazov.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Do you think the Great Asian Alliance will resort to using a strategic-class magician?” the news anchor asked.

“It’s very possible they will send out Second Lieutenant Liu Li Lei, who recently appeared in public for the first time,” the analyst theorized.

There was more to the conversation, but Tatsuya and Miyuki needed to leave for school. Of course, only Miyuki had to worry about being late. Tatsuya’s plan was to escort her to First High. After that, he was free to do as he pleased.

“What will you do today?” Miyuki asked as they rode in the cabinet together.

“I’m heading to FLT unless Lieutenant Colonel Kazama calls for me,” Tatsuya replied.

“You won’t go see Lina?” Miyuki questioned.

“I have other business to handle,” Tatsuya explained simply.

Miyuki guessed it was probably related to the new conflict between the Great Asian Alliance and the New Soviet Union, but she stopped herself from pressing.

In terms of his plans for the day, Tatsuya’s prediction was spot on. After he dropped Miyuki off at school and returned home, he received a call from Lieutenant Colonel Kazama.

“Specialist Ooguro, I know that recent events have put a strain on the trust between us,” the colonel began. “However, as you know, we are now faced with an international emergency. I need you to report to the base immediately.”

His voice was both formal and tinged with a sense of urgency. Despite the somewhat selfish nature of the request, Tatsuya nodded.

“All right.”

It wasn’t in his interest to pick a fight with the National Defense Force, and this wasn’t the time to be stubborn.

“Thank you,” Kazama replied simply.

It wasn’t clear whether he could tell what Tatsuya was thinking. Nevertheless, he gave the boy a grateful bow.

Right as Tatsuya was discussing the ongoing conflict in the Far East, Minoru was hearing about it on the news. Though Minoru had just won an intense battle the night before, there was no time to sleep in. Raymond and Regulus, on the other hand, were still in bed. Clearly, parasites didn’t suffer from jet lag.

“I probably shouldn’t be thinking this, but…the Great Asian Alliance conflict might open up the perfect opportunity,” Minoru murmured.

If the conflict drags on, he thought, the Ten Master Clans will have to focus their attention on the Sea of Japan. Even if it ends quickly, the Ten Master Clans will have to respond to whatever side wins the battle and potentially pushes south. That would leave them little time to deal with me.

If the commentators were right, this war had been triggered by Tatsuya’s devastating counterattack against Bezobrazov.

Tatsuya might find it ironic that his actions have led to conflict, Minoru thought, but I call it poetic justice.

Not only was Minami hurt by Bezobrazov’s attack, but Tatsuya may even have lost the ability to protect her by defeating Bezobrazov. If the Great Asian Alliance conflict turned into an opportunity for Minoru as he predicted, that would definitely be a cruel twist of fate in Tatsuya’s disfavor.

Tatsuya immediately canceled his plans to visit Miyaki Island and report to FLT. Instead, he headed to the Independent Magic Battalion headquarters on the Kasumigaura Base.

He had, of course, already reported his decision to Maya. As luck might have it, they were able to discuss things directly. Ultimately, Maya was optimistic about mending relations with the National Defense Force. The large unit that the Force commanded was a commodity much too valuable to lose.

“Thank you for coming, Specialist Ooguro,” Kazama greeted him.

Tatsuya simply responded with a salute, so Kazama solemnly returned the gesture. The only one to show any visible emotion was Fujibayashi, the lieutenant colonel’s aide.

“There is only one reason I called you here today,” Kazama continued. “I want you to tell me about Bezobrazov.”

After the attack on the Izu villa, Tatsuya had told Kazama that Bezobrazov was not the magician he had taken down. He had not informed the military about the attack on First High. However, he had reported the incident to the main family. If the Yotsuba family had shared the information with the military, Tatsuya wouldn’t need to explain himself now. For better or for worse, it seemed that Maya had kept it to herself.

“I did not attack Bezobrazov directly,” Tatsuya said. “But I did dismantle a large operational CAD, so he could have sustained some damage.”

“Are you referring to the train-type CAD you mentioned the other day?” Kazama asked.

“Yes.”

“If a CAD is destroyed while connected to its user, it can cause significant mental damage through the magic-calculation region,” Kazama said. “Are you certain Bezobrazov was connected to the CAD you destroyed?”

“Since Tuman Bomba hasn’t attacked me lately, it seems pretty likely,” Tatsuya replied.

“Hm…” Kazama took a moment to digest the information before continuing, “What do you think the chances are that Bezobrazov is dead?”

“Barely one percent,” Tatsuya said.

“So zero?”

“You could say that.”

Tatsuya paused before adding, “That said, the chance of his death in an unrelated accident later on isn’t zero.”

“Then, what about his recovery?” Kazama pressed. “Do you think Bezobrazov will be back in time to face the Great Asian Alliance’s invasion?”

“If New Soviet leadership is willing to essentially use Bezobrazov as a sacrifice, he could be on the battlefield today.” Tatsuya shrugged. “Now, if they want meaningful results, I doubt he’ll be ready to fight again that soon.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“Based on past cases, recovering from a forced CAD disconnection typically takes about ten to twenty days.”

Tatsuya and Kazama were speaking on Friday. Tuman Bomba had attacked First High the previous Thursday.

“So the earliest he would return is in two days, and the longest would be two weeks?” Kazama confirmed.

“That’s right,” Tatsuya said.

“…All right.”

Tatsuya took a lull in the conversation as an opportunity to change the subject.

“Lieutenant Colonel, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you as well.”

“Go ahead,” Kazama replied.

“You may already know this, but our country is once again facing the threat of parasites.”

“Yes,” Kazama said. “I’m aware of the Kudou family situation.”

“But that’s not all,” Tatsuya continued. “New parasites have also appeared in the USNA.”

“What?”

It seemed the National Defense Force was still unaware of this situation, or perhaps the information just had not yet reached Kazama’s ears. Either way, Tatsuya had no intention of withholding any details.

“A mutiny broke out at the Stars headquarters last week,” Tatsuya explained. “It was instigated by a group of soldiers who had become parasites. Now those parasites effectively occupy the entire headquarters.”

“Did Major Sirius inform you of this?” Kazama asked.

“No,” Tatsuya quickly replied. “I gained this information from Miss Angelina Kudou Shields, a relative of General Kudou.”

Like the last time they spoke, Tatsuya subtly emphasized that he was not sheltering anyone by the name of Major Sirius.

“I see,” Kazama said, disinclined to press the issue further this time.

“What’s more,” Tatsuya continued, “it appears at least two of the USNA parasites have infiltrated Japan.”

“What?!” Kazama exclaimed.

A look of surprise and panic spread across his face.

“The surveillance team at Kansai Airport identified two illegal tourists that were using telepathy,” Tatsuya explained. “Since the tourists arrived on a direct flight from Los Angeles, chances are at least one of them is a Stars member turned parasite.”

“I will discuss this with Commander Saeki,” Kazama replied.

“Good idea.”

The Hanshin area surveillance teams were not ones to keep information to themselves. It was hard to imagine them only passing on this kind of news to their direct superiors while withholding reports from central command. Whether or not they would then share this information with the National Defense Force, however, was a gray area. Territorial instincts might make them hesitant to rely on external support. That said, it was also possible that Saeki had already heard about the incident through private channels.

“Wait,” Kazama began again. “If one of the tourists was a Stars member, what about the other one?”

“The other tourist was Raymond Clark,” Tatsuya stated plainly.

“Are you certain?” Kazama asked.

“Positive.” Tatsuya nodded. “I checked the police photos myself.”

Just then, Fujibayashi, who had been standing diagonally behind Kazama, interjected, “Specialist Ooguro, is Raymond Clark related to the founder of the Dione Project?”

“Yes.” Tatsuya nodded again. “He’s Edward Clark’s son.”

He paused before adding, “Raymond is also one of the so-called Seven Sages, who exposed Taurus Silver’s identity with the information-gathering system Hlidskjalf that runs on Echelon III’s backdoor system.”

“Hold on,” Fujibayashi gasped. “That is too much information to wrap my head around.”

“I’m not even finished,” Tatsuya said unempathetically.

“Continue.” She sighed.

“As Tatsuya Shiba of the Yotsuba family, I would like to request the cooperation of the National Defense Force’s Independent Magic Battalion,” he announced.

Kazama’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, while Fujibayashi straightened at full attention.

“I am almost completely positive that the USNA parasites will try to collaborate with our recent local parasite, Minoru Kudou,” Tatsuya continued.

Fujibayashi paled at the mention of Minoru’s name. Tatsuya knew the Kudou family had informed her about Minoru’s parasite transformation. That being the case, he decided not to empathize with her emotional distress.

“And,” he said, “if the Stars are conducting illegal activities in Japan, it’s hard to believe they will only send one person.”

At this point, Tatsuya was excluding Raymond from the count. It’s not that he underestimated the American teen. In fact, he anticipated Raymond would be very powerful after becoming a parasite. He simply believed that the Stars wouldn’t count him as one of their own.

“We need reinforcements. And soon,” Tatsuya stressed.

“That makes sense,” Kazama replied.

He found no grounds to argue against Tatsuya’s logical assessment. Tatsuya suddenly shifted the focus of the discussion from the Stars to Minoru.

“Minoru Kudou’s target is my family’s employee, Minami Sakurai. If Minoru Kudou and the Stars join forces, not even the combined power of the Yotsuba will stand a chance at protecting Minami.”

“So you want us to provide security?” Kazama asked.

Tatsuya shook his head. “Not exactly. All I’m asking is for you to prevent the Stars from infiltrating shared bases like the ones in Yokosuka or Zama.”

The Yotsuba family monitored civilian airports and air force bases in the Tokyo metropolitan area. National Defense Force bases, on the other hand, could be observed only from the outside. It was not impossible to infiltrate them, but that proved too complicated, given the current situation.

Having the National Defense Force monitor their own bases was the much simpler move. Besides, it was their job to stop illegal trespassers from entering the country. Even if those trespassers came from an allied nation.

“All right.” Kazama nodded. “I will discuss the matter with the brigade commander and see what we can do.”

He didn’t propose an alternative, since he knew Tatsuya was simply asking the National Defense Force to do their job.

“By the way, Specialist Ooguro,” he continued, “what do you think about the conflict in the Far East?”

“Are you asking for my predictions on the outcome?” Tatsuya asked.

“Yes.” Kazama nodded.

Having thought about it on his way to the base, Tatsuya’s answer was immediate: “The New Soviet Union will probably win.”

“Why do you think that?” Kazama pressed.

“The Great Asian Alliance only invaded the area based on unreliable information about Bezobrazov’s absence,” Tatsuya explained. “I’m sure the moment Bezobrazov returns to the battlefield, the Great Asian Alliance offensive will collapse.”

The moment Bezobrazov reappeared, he would cast Tuman Bomba. Kazama understood the hidden meaning in Tatsuya’s words.

“Huh…” Kazama reflected. “So in your mind, there is no chance the conflict will be resolved before Bezobrazov returns?”

“Well, in terms of military strength, the New Soviet Union and Great Asian Alliance aren’t that different,” Tatsuya said. “A quick victory won’t be easy, even if the Great Asian Alliance uses Pilita.”

Pilita was a large-scale attack spell used by the Great Asian Alliance’s strategic-class magicians. The spell was developed by Yunde Liu, who perished during the Scorching Halloween—when Tatsuya’s Material Burst devastated the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula. Now Yunde’s granddaughter, Lirei Liu, had inherited Pilita and become the Alliance’s new top strategic-class magician.

Kazama suddenly stared directly into Tatsuya’s eyes.

“What if the New Soviet Union decides to invade Japan after they win the war? Can the National Defense Force count on you?”

“That’s fine with me,” Tatsuya replied.

He had made a deal to deter military conquests in exchange for Aoba Toudou’s power. Even if Kazama had not asked, Tatsuya had planned to take action. But there was no need to disclose this information. It served Tatsuya better to let Kazama feel that he was “borrowing” the high schooler’s strength.

The day after the Great Asian Alliance invaded New Soviet territory, a series of fierce back-and-forth battles unfolded along the Far East coast. The entire world was closely watching this conflict pan out. But being adjacent to the battlefield, Japan was especially both interested and vigilant in its observations of the ever-evolving situation.

The rules established during World War III prohibiting nuclear weapons were still very much in effect. The International Magic Association intervened only when so-called “dirty nuclear weapons” were involved. Biological and chemical arms that contaminated the environment and high-yield bombs with harmful or toxic emissions were subject to self-regulation. This meant that modern warfare primarily relied on traditional bullets, shrapnel grenades, and expensive environmentally friendly high-yield explosives. The militaries of wealthier countries also included electromagnetic weapons and laser guns in their arsenals.

In other words, the dominance of older types of weapons tended to prolong conflicts when well-equipped and trained armies fought each other. To ensure a quick victory, it was essential for an army to have weaponry that their opponent did not possess.

The Great Asian Alliance’s chances of victory hinged on the strategic-class magic Pilita. They mainly initiated the Far East conflict with the impression that the New Soviet Union would be unable to deploy their own strategic-class magician. Military experts worldwide predicted as much.

However, the conflict did not end in a day. The Great Asian Alliance deployed strategic-class magician Lirei Liu from the outset, and her presence shifted the battle in their favor. But Pilita was not the kind of magic that could cover an entire battlefield. Even if there were such a spell, it would be challenging to use effectively in close combat where allies could potentially get in the range of fire. Clearly, strategic-class magicians were not as useful as many people might believe.

Another Saturday rolled around. In Japan, only a few middle and high schools with a focus on the arts followed a two-day weekend.

The Magic High School, of course, had class. Like many days, Tatsuya took Miyuki to school this morning. Though Minami was hospitalized, there were currently no plans for anyone in the Yotsuba family to replace her. Tatsuya was no longer a Guardian, but he served as Miyuki’s bodyguard on the way to school.

Once they were on campus, however, Tatsuya didn’t feel the need to stay nearby. After all, he didn’t need to be physically close to protect her. During Bezobrazov’s recent attack, he stayed on campus only so he could counter effectively. Even his daily morning escort was more of a personal choice than a necessity.

Once Miyuki was inside the school building, Tatsuya quickly returned home to change from his uniform into casual clothes and headed straight to Miyaki Island in the Aircar. This time, the primary purpose for his visit was magic research, but he also felt anxious about leaving Lina alone for too long.

As he thought, Lina was already starting to get bored. Although neither had business with each other, Lina barged in on Tatsuya during his research.

“…What are you up to, Tatsuya?” she asked.

“Making magic,” he responded curtly.

“With just a computer?!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” he said. “The engineer who created your Prionace could probably do something similar.”

Prionace was a magical weapon that used the FAE theory to make the strategic-class magic Heavy Metal Burst castable in localized and personal combat.

The FAE, or Free After Execution, theory referred to the concept that events resulting from magic modifications were extraordinary phenomena that shouldn’t exist in this world. Applying this theory loosened the constraints of physical laws for a very brief period immediately after the modification to make subsequent modifications easier.

Tatsuya’s Baryon Lance also used this theory, but it was based only on the Prionace template. This was why Tatsuya secretly admired the Prionace developer and hoped to meet them one day.

“Now that you mention it, Abby did seem to be modifying magic right from her desk,” Lina mused.

So the Prionace developer’s name is Abby, Tatsuya thought.

He mentally took note of the name.

“But when creating new magic, she had to conduct countless experiments along the way,” Lina continued.

So, she is still developing new spells, Tatsuya thought again.

He took another mental note.

Then, masking his interest in Abby, he said, “I’m not making this magic from scratch. I recently had a chance to observe Tuman Bomba up close, and it got me thinking. The original Tuman Bomba is much too complex for just anyone to use, but maybe I can adapt it into another more accessible spell.”

When referring to Tuman Bomba’s complexity, he meant that it required a large-scale device that wasn’t easy to use. But Lina thought he was simply saying a magician needed an immense amount of magic power to cast the spell. Of course, that wasn’t entirely wrong.

After a brief lag, Lina’s eyes widened with surprise.

“…Wait, are you saying you’re trying to create strategic-class magic?” she exclaimed in a way that was a bit over the top.

“That is its classification, yes,” Tatsuya replied calmly, as if used to Lina’s outbursts.

“I can’t believe you.” Lina sighed, with a dramatic shake of her head. “You already have a ridiculously powerful spell like Material Burst, and you still want to add more strategic-class magic to your repertoire? It’s like you’re trying to become a demon lord.”

“I had no idea you were a gamer,” Tatsuya said.

“Y-you don’t need to be a gamer to know about demon lords!” she retorted, turning bright red.

Lina’s spirited reply lifted Tatsuya’s spirits a bit. He had grown tired of so many people actually treating him like a demon lord.

“Anyway,” Tatsuya said, “I’m not planning to use this magic myself.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes, because ultimately you’re right. Having one strategic-class spell is more than enough. Besides, it’s not useful in everyday situations, and just possessing it comes with a mountain of complications.”

“I know what you mean.” Lina nodded emphatically, ignoring Tatsuya’s context.

“When I’m done, I’ll give it to another magician,” Tatsuya said, concealing a wry smile. “I have someone in mind who could handle it. If they rise up as a new Apostle, it might alleviate some of the annoying complications around me.”

“That makes sense,” Lina replied, completely focused on the complications bit.

She didn’t realize this meant a new strategic-class magician for Japan, which could drastically shift the global military balance.

Tatsuya stayed on Miyaki Island only until noon. When he left, the new magic was still a work in progress. He wasn’t so conceited as to believe he could create a new spell in just one or two days. Besides, he had more pressing magic to work on.

“Thanks for doing this with me again today, Mikihiko,” Tatsuya said.

“It’s a good workout for me, too,” Mikihiko replied.

After school was dismissed, Tatsuya met with Mikihiko in the training forest to perfect Sealing Sphere, as Yakumo had suggested. This spell would use psions to compress, trap, and contain parasites expelled from the human body.

The sphere would need to be either physically stored in some kind of artifact or mentally dismantled and incinerated. Either way, once it was contained, Tatsuya’s work was done, and he could hand it over to another specialist.

The training was straightforward in theory: Mikihiko would summon a spirit and deliberately use his power to freeze it. Tatsuya would then use typeless magic to restrain the spirit, compressing psions and all to convert it into a stable frozen state.

This meant not only that Tatsuya encased the information body in a psion shell, but also that he mixed in his own psions to coagulate the body as a whole. It was like solidifying radioactive waste by mixing it with glass. They would need to prepare a separate container for storing the solidified material (aka the sealing object), and the final blow would need additional processing. But for the time being, the sphere could prevent the parasite from fleeing or infecting another person.

“That was pretty good,” Mikihiko observed.

Though they had only just started on Thursday and were still far from perfection, Tatsuya was definitely beginning to grasp the nuances of the technique.

“You think so?” Tatsuya asked.

Mikihiko’s praise didn’t really seem to boost his confidence. But this was largely because of his high expectations of the finished product. Compared to his most recent battle with Yakumo, he had definitely made progress.

“Absolutely.” Mikihiko nodded. “You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“…Yeah, I guess being skeptical won’t help,” Tatsuya said reluctantly. “Let’s go through it again.”

“As many times as you need,” Mikihiko willingly agreed.

Grateful for his friend’s support, Tatsuya focused on refining the psions within him to unleash Sealing Sphere.

Fujibayashi contacted Tatsuya on Sunday morning.

“Specialist Ooguro,” she announced, “due to our joint-use agreement, we have received official notice from the USNA military that a transport plane from Hawaii will arrive at Zama Base tomorrow night.”

“That means we can’t be overtly aggressive,” Tatsuya mused.

Fujibayashi nodded sternly, “It’s fair to say this is exactly the behavior we expected.”

She and Tatsuya had anticipated that the Stars would use the joint-use agreement to send reinforcements to the base. At the same time, this very fact suggested that the parasites were gaining influence in the USNA military. Fujibayashi’s anxious expression was undoubtedly connected to this troubling reality.

“As we agreed, I’ll leave the surveillance to you,” Tatsuya said.

“Specialist Ooguro—no…Tatsuya,” Fujibayashi began. “Are you really planning to go in alone?”

“I might be going to the base alone, but I’m not the only one who will be fighting,” Tatsuya replied.

Fujibayashi looked mildly surprised.

“Will you have support from the Yotsuba family? Or perhaps some friends from school?”

“The family is focusing their efforts on Minoru.”

Tatsuya’s ambiguous answer suggested that he planned to rely on his friends from First High. He didn’t really want to do this, but with Sealing Sphere still a work in progress, he needed someone capable of sealing parasites away.

Luckily, Fujibayashi didn’t object. As long as his efforts were targeted toward Minoru’s capture, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Instead, she asked, “When will you carry out the plan?”

“The sooner the better,” Tatsuya said. “I’m aiming for tomorrow night, right after the military arrives at the base.”

“I see…” Fujibayashi paused before continuing. “Be careful out there, Tatsuya. Major Yanagi will be assisting with surveillance, so contact him if anything happens.”

“I will,” Tatsuya agreed with a slight bow. “If things get out of control, I’ll gladly accept your help.”

“Please do. Although I hope it will not come to that,” Fujibayashi said.

Even through the visiphone screen, she knew what Tatsuya was thinking all too well. Despite what he said, he would never actually rely on the National Defense Force.

Fujibayashi had no intention of leaving things to chance. As the deputy battalion commander, she was determined to proactively put her efforts into ensuring the mission’s success.

Still, she couldn’t help putting her prayers into words.

After ending the call with Fujibayashi, Tatsuya turned around. Even before he saw her, he knew Miyuki was standing behind him with an expression filled with concern.

“Tatsuya…what should I do tomorrow?” she asked.

Half a year ago, Miyuki wouldn’t have asked what she should do. She would have insisted on going with him. But now she understood that she could be a liability. She had always been aware of this, of course. It was only recently that she had come to accept it.

“Stay with Minami,” Tatsuya instructed.

He had already decided he would not take Miyuki into his fight against the Stars. It wasn’t that he doubted Miyuki’s abilities. He was confident she could hold her own against the most elite Stars members. What he didn’t want was for her to be in harm’s way.

An attack was always inevitably met with retaliation. Getting caught up in the danger was part of the game.

If Minoru managed to kidnap Minami, it would be unreasonable to expect Miyuki not to intervene. Tatsuya had already resigned himself to this. Dealing with the parasite-infected Stars members, on the other hand, was something Miyuki didn’t need to be part of.

“Since we can’t track Minoru’s movements, I need you to keep a close watch on Minami while I’m tied up in other fights,” Tatsuya explained.

This wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Luckily, Miyuki understood that her brother didn’t want to expose her to unnecessary danger.

“…All right,” she promised. “I will do as you wish.”

After leaving Regulus and Raymond at the Hachioji hideout, Minoru arrived in Nara alone. Even here, Gongjin Zhou’s network was still going strong.

Ironically, Minoru had helped Tatsuya dismantle part of the network the previous autumn. But Gongjin’s power had lingered in the lives of even ordinary folk with no ties to magic. The house in which Minoru found himself staying now belonged to one such ordinary person.

“Gongjin was truly a terrifying enemy…” Minoru unconsciously muttered aloud.

The extent of the former Chinatown ringleader’s influence demonstrated that he had been far more formidable than Minoru had once thought. Yet now, Minoru’s ability to move freely across the country was all thanks to Gongjin’s efforts.

That said, Nara was as far as the safety net extended. From here on, Minoru would have to plunge into the lion’s den: the Kudou family’s territory.

His destination was the Ninth Magic Development Research Institute—the heart of the former Lab Nine, the stronghold of magicians bearing the number nine in their name. Minoru’s plan was to steal the sealed Parasidolls from there.

After fighting the Saegusa-Juumonji alliance and Katsuto in particular, Minoru had realized the limitations of working alone. He had agreed to help Regulus and Raymond with the ulterior motive of gaining their support in exchange. But the two of them alone weren’t enough. Besides, Regulus and Raymond had their own business to handle.

Minoru needed more backup to be his hands and feet in the upcoming struggle.

But he couldn’t rely on the ancient magic practitioners from Kansai who had supported Gongjin. They had long been in opposition to Lab Nine. It didn’t help that Minoru himself was directly connected to the Kudou family, making him a magician with the number nine in his name. Unlike the Gongjin followers in Tokyo, he doubted their Kansai counterparts would side with him.

This was where the Parasidolls came into play. Although their development had officially been stopped, they were already complete in terms of performance. The only reason they weren’t being used was due to ethical concerns.

Most importantly, the core of the Parasidolls, as their name implied, was a parasite. Since he himself was a parasite, Minoru believed he could utilize Parasidolls more effectively than a human magician could.

The specimens that had been damaged during operating tests had been repaired and sealed in the former Lab Nine’s warehouse. If Minoru could sneak in and reboot them, it shouldn’t be too difficult for them to escape with their own combat skills.

The biggest problem was that the former Lab Nine fell under the Kudou family’s jurisdiction. This hadn’t changed even after the Kudou family left the Ten Master Clans. Even if Minoru’s family didn’t expect him to go after the Parasidolls, strict security measures were definitely in place at the former Lab Nine.

Then, there was also the chance that Minoru’s grandfather, Retsu Kudou, might be lying in wait.

But as the saying went: “You can’t catch a tiger cub without entering the tiger’s den.”

In Minoru’s mind, no term fit the former Lab Nine better. It was a tiger’s den.

Maya Yotsuba, the head of the Yotsuba family, put one of her branch families—the Kurobas—to work on the investigation of the stowaways discovered at Kansai International Airport.

The Kuroba family head, Mitsugu Kuroba, was the father of brilliant twins Ayako and Fumiya Kuroba. Ayako and Fumiya were second-year students at the National Magic University Fourth Affiliated High School, so they had class during the week. When Tatsuya heard that the Kuroba family had been assigned to the stowaway search, he had a feeling the twins might prioritize the mission over their studies.

However, Tatsuya’s assumption had yet to be proven true. Mitsugu didn’t go as far as making his children skip school when he sent them to the Hanshin area.

On Sunday, June 30, the Kuroba twins arrived at Kansai International Airport.

“Well, that wasn’t very helpful.” Ayako sighed.

“Don’t say that,” Fumiya chided her. “It’s important to hear about any characteristics the stowaways may have that couldn’t be discerned from the photos.”

He shook his head at his sister’s lack of gratitude toward the police officer who had taken the time to help them.

They had just finished having lunch with Karasawa, the officer who had first spotted Regulus and Raymond. During the meal, the twins had quizzed him about the stowaways. Not only was Karasawa kind enough to answer their questions, but he was also technically on duty when they invited him to lunch.

“By the way,” Fumiya continued, “I was surprised you knew Officer Karasawa.”

“As was I when we were told he was the first to discover the stowaways,” Ayako replied. “Talk about coincidences.”

The reason Karasawa agreed to ditch work for lunch was because Ayako happened to be a somewhat close acquaintance of his. Three years ago, during her junior year of middle school, Ayako had spent about a month away from Fumiya in Kobe. During that time, she had attended an etiquette boarding school, specifically for girls of her age.

Her time there, of course, was work-related. It was a covert mission. The goal had been to uncover the plot of a stateless criminal organization that was brainwashing upper-class girls and turning them into operatives.

Ayako successfully completed her mission, but along the way, she had some interesting run-ins with Karasawa, who at the time was still a student at Second High School.

This day, the Kuroba family was covering their lunch bill. Once lunch was over and Karasawa went back to work, the twins could enjoy their post-meal teatime.

“I’m just frustrated our conversation didn’t lead to any real clues,” Ayako said.

“It’s not like we got nothing.” Fumiya smiled.

Ayako raised an eyebrow. She stared at her brother with a look that implicitly pushed him to tell her more.

Fumiya explained, “Karasawa said the two stowaways suddenly disappeared near the manned taxi stand. The police lost sight of them, and they left absolutely no traces behind. Surveillance cameras did capture two individuals driving away, not in a taxi but in a private car. Interestingly, their appearance didn’t match what Officer Karasawa had seen earlier. Also, no cameras outside the airport had any footage of that same private car.”

Fumiya paused and looked his sister in the eye.

“Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“The Kudou family’s Parade spell,” Ayako gasped.

“Exactly. Now, who from the Kudou family might want to help out parasites?”

“Minoru Kudou! The boy who recently became a parasite and challenged the Yotsuba family!” Ayako exclaimed.

“Right. Therefore, Minoru Kudou is sheltering the stowaways,” Fumiya declared with a confident grin.

Ayako nodded in agreement.

The twins separately reported their theory about Minoru harboring the illegal Stars operatives to their father and the Yotsuba main family.

As a result, their father instructed them to put an end to their search and return home. Maya, on the other hand, directed them to stop by the former Lab Nine and relay the information they had uncovered. Needless to say, Maya’s orders took priority.

“I wonder why Maya told us to go to the former Lab Nine and not the Kudou family directly,” Fumiya absent-mindedly wondered aloud.

The twins were in a Kuroba family car on their way to the research lab. To make their commute to school easier, they had moved out of the Kuroba family home and now lived in an apartment in Hamamatsu.

This day, instead of taking the train from their apartment to Kansai International Airport, they used the Kuroba family car that their father had sent to pick them up. Though this made the trip to the airport longer than expected, taking the car turned out to be the right choice. The former Lab Nine, located in a remote area on the outskirts of town, was inaccessible by public transportation.

“Maybe she wants us to report to the General, rather than Makoto,” Ayako replied dutifully, even though Fumiya’s remark had been more of a soliloquy than anything else.

By “Makoto,” Ayako meant Makoto Kudou, the head of the Kudou family. The General referred to Retsu Kudou, the former head of the family.

Retsu was respected not only as a member of the Ten Master Clans but also as an elder of the Japanese magic community and was often referred to as Sage. Tatsuya, however, disliked this title and preferred to call him General Kudou, a name that acknowledged Retsu’s past in the National Defense Force.

While Fumiya and Ayako once used the title Sage, they switched their allegiance to the title General after hearing Tatsuya use it.

“Oh, so that’s why Maya is sending you,” Fumiya remarked.

Ayako and Retsu Kudou had met during the previous parasite incident. Now, the two of them were basically accomplices. It made sense to send someone familiar with Retsu rather than a completely unknown servant from the main family, who Retsu might be less willing to hear out.

“But it’s not just me; both of us are going,” Ayako said, assuring her brother that there was meaning to his being there.

Whether it was because they traveled by car or had a late lunch, it was already starting to get dark by the time Fumiya and Ayako arrived at the former Lab Nine. It should have been the time of year when the days were longest, but the sky was overcast, blocking the light of the setting sun.

The former Lab Nine—now officially called the Ninth Magic Development Research Institute—could be abbreviated as Lab Nine, but those in the magic community referred to it as the former Lab Nine. As expected, Retsu Kudou was already there, and he quickly agreed to Ayako’s request for a meeting.

The twins were ushered into a conference room, where, after brief greetings, Retsu explained why he was at the former Lab Nine on a Sunday.

“The whole family criticizes Minoru. It is so uncomfortable for him at home,” he began.

Retsu had always favored Minoru over all of his many grandchildren. Although Minoru was gifted with a talent in magic, he was often ill. This both prevented him from demonstrating his full potential and made Retsu feel especially sorry for him. His other grandchildren may have sensed this dynamic, making them jealous. On top of that, Minoru’s mother and father, Makoto, each had their own reasons for resenting their son.

Objectively speaking, Minoru had never received much affection from his parents and siblings. In fact, Retsu might have been the only one in the Kudou household who showed the boy any kind of love.

“Well, it is getting late,” Retsu concluded. “Would you two like to stay for dinner?”

Fumiya and Ayako were the same age as Minoru. Seeing them before him must have exacerbated his sense of loneliness now that his grandson wasn’t around. The lack of ulterior motive in Retsu’s tone made it hard for the twins to refuse.

“I can have meals prepared for your servants as well,” Retsu proposed.

“…Thank you so much,” Ayako replied, speaking for both herself and her brother. “We would be honored to join you.”

It’s almost sunset, Minoru thought, hidden in the shadows of the trees overlooking the former Lab Nine.

His surroundings had grown completely dark, but the sun would just be setting if the sky had been clear. In fact, without the thick clouds, it would be twilight—a time when humans encounter the supernatural, the power of monsters strengthens, and calamity strikes.

Minoru sent a mental signal to the followers he had gathered.

They were not the ancient magic practitioners from Kyoto or Nara. Instead, they were defectors from the continent that Gongjin’s spirit had temporarily bound by magic. Since they lacked their own will, they were no match for Tatsuya or Katsuto. But Minoru figured they could at least buy some time until the Parasidolls awakened. Using the incantations he had gained from Gongjin’s knowledge, he activated a magic ritual.

One of the defectors charged straight at the main gate of the lab and proceeded to self-destruct with a fire-based magic spell. This didn’t mean his body actually exploded. He wouldn’t die instantly. What he was doing was pushing his magic power beyond his limits and unleashing a spell at hyper-close range. The result was a powerful blast that shattered the gate and left the defector with lethal wounds if they remained untreated.

Retsu, Ayako, and Fumiya had just finished their soup when the explosion went off. All three of them whipped their heads toward the main entrance of the research institute. Neither Retsu nor Ayako reprimanded Fumiya, who jumped out of his chair.

“Why didn’t the border alarm go off?” Retsu murmured, seemingly more concerned about the lack of a warning than the act of suspicious trespassing.

Before anyone could respond, he reached his own conclusion: “…A barrier, perhaps?”

The barrier in question had been so cleverly designed that even Retsu—once known as the World’s Most Skilled Magician—failed to notice it. It effectively masked magic waves rather than blocking psion waves, creating a disruption field over a wide area in front of the research institute and extending halfway into the premises. It was only after the explosion that Retsu realized this.

“Yes.” He nodded thoughtfully, convinced. “It is a concealment barrier typical of practitioners from the southwestern region of the continent.”

The continent he referred to was not Eurasia or Asia in general, but specifically an area overlapping with the Great Asian Alliance territory that included regions such as Sichuan and Yunnan.

“General!” Fumiya exclaimed, realizing a continent barrier could be connected to Retsu’s grandson. “Does that mean Minoru is here?”

“If he is, he must be after the Parasidolls,” Retsu said.

“Are you referring to the humanoid weapon tested at the Steeplechase venue last year?” Ayako clarified.

“I am. You know about it?”

“Yes, I was somewhat involved in the process,” Ayako replied.

“I see,” Retsu murmured. “Then, he really must be targeting the Parasidolls.”

He added almost inaudibly, “I thought only Tatsuya Shiba was active at that time… Anyway, the Parasidolls are sealed in the northern warehouse. If it’s not too much trouble, could you go assist the personnel there? I will head over as soon as I have checked on the situation inside the lab proper.”

“Got it!” Fumiya replied.

There was no inherent reason for the Kuroba twins to obey Retsu’s orders. But Minoru Kudou was an enemy to the Yotsuba family as well. If he was attacking the former Lab Nine in search of Parasidolls, he was undoubtedly trying to strengthen his forces and use the humanoid weapons as his pawns. It was thus the Kuroba family’s duty, as a Yotsuba branch family, to obstruct the enemy from trying to procure additional backup.

“Let’s go, Ayako!” Fumiya yelled at his sister.

“Right behind you.” Ayako nodded.

Although Minoru had grown stronger, the former Lab Nine security was nothing to sneeze at.

But they’re not nearly as powerful as Mayumi and Juumonji, he thought.

Before long, he arrived at the warehouse where the sealed Parasidolls were stored. It had been only a few days since he had infiltrated the facility to become a parasite, yet the electronic lock on the door was still the same. Minoru thought this was pretty careless.

Hold on, he hesitated.

He paused to take precautions by reinforcing his defenses with Parade and Qimen Dunjia. Then, he unleashed Electron Goldworm from a safe distance. As soon as this last spell infiltrated the electronic lock, the console spewed a violent shock.

That was close.

The voltage of the shock looked to be at lethal levels. Even Minoru would have been rendered incapacitated for a while if he had carelessly touched the lock.

The moment a magician casts a spell, he becomes defenseless against that same type of magic, Minoru mused. Was that a trap that takes advantage of that principle?

He figured it was his grandfather, Retsu Kudou, who had set the trap. Only the “World’s Greatest” could have thought of something like it.

Luckily, Minoru had developed a technique to create a pathway in the air, so he could cast Electron Goldworm from a distance. Leaving the electrical pathway open still put him at a risk of electrocution. But by closing the line at the same time Electron Goldworm passed through, he avoided harm from the console’s electric shock.

Minoru unleashed Electron Goldworm once more. By now, the console’s electronic circuits were already burned out. The electronic lock activated not via the console but by Electron Goldworm’s signal. Minoru was now free to enter the warehouse.

As he stepped through the door, his illusion was attacked. Unlike last time, it seemed security personnel had been stationed both outside and inside the warehouse. Minoru sensed the presence of more than five magicians ready to strike.

I commend their ability to remain undetected until now. Minoru smirked. But it’s still not enough to beat me.

Minoru’s human consciousness lamented the loss of the skilled magicians who confronted him. But the battle was over in less than a minute. In the end, six magicians lay defeated on the warehouse floor.

Fumiya and Ayako didn’t head directly to the warehouse as Retsu had instructed. Instead, they made their way to the parking lot. Fumiya had left a CAD specifically for Direct Pain in the Kuroba family car.

A black-suited attendant next to the vehicle turned to Fumiya. “What is going on, sir?”

“Minoru Kudou is attacking!” Fumiya exclaimed. “Contact the main family and my father. Then stay here and secure our escape route!”

“Yes, sir.” The attendant nodded.

He wasted no time with unnecessary questions and promptly turned on his communication device to carry out Fumiya’s instructions.

Fumiya retrieved his black Knuckle Duster from a small compartment in the back seat. He then slipped it onto his right hand, and he powered up the specialized CAD with a squeeze of his fist.

“After you, sis,” he said.

“All right.” Ayako nodded.

She glanced in the direction of the northern side of the research facility.

“Is that the place?” Fumiya asked, spotting the warehouse through the gaps between buildings.

“Yes,” Ayako responded. “I can fly you up to the rooftop just in case.”

“Got it.”

Fumiya paused before continuing, “You don’t have to come with me, you know.”

“I won’t let my guard down.” Ayako smiled to ease her brother’s concern.

Fumiya felt his body tingle as his sister activated Pseudo-Teleportation. Before he knew it, he was on the warehouse rooftop about eighty meters away.

Minoru sensed a powerful spell being directed toward the warehouse he was in.

Was that Pseudo-Teleportation? he thought.

It wasn’t an attack spell, but he figured combat magicians had been sent to the roof. He could feel someone there, but he didn’t let this distract him. Instead, he focused his energy on the spell he was casting.

“Done!” he declared, a bit louder than he meant to.

Just then, a hole appeared in the warehouse ceiling. The spell Oxidation Collapse had breached the rooftop’s composite material, capable of withstanding tactical nuclear strikes, in a matter of seconds. Oxidation Collapse forced electrons out of solids, stripping them of their ability to bond molecularly. Minoru also excelled at this skill. Although the version of the spell that had ruptured the warehouse ceiling was inferior to his own, it was still remarkably high-level magic.

Minoru recognized the small figure that jumped down through the hole. It was the boy from the previous year’s Nine Schools Competition. In fact, he played a pivotal role in the newcomers’ event, the Monolith Code, and was in Minoru’s same year at Fourth High School.

“Fumiya Kuroba?” Minoru called out to the boy.

Instead of responding, Fumiya thrust out his right hand, which was adorned with a black knuckle guard.

Is that…Knuckle Duster? Minoru thought.

Fumiya was still nearly ten meters away from Minoru. It was impossible to tell what he was going to do. Then, suddenly, a wave of pain surged through Minoru’s middle.

Did he hit me in the stomach? Minoru thought.

Fumiya’s fist hadn’t physically reached him. Nor did it feel like he had been hit by a projectile or a burst of pressure.

Ugh!

Minoru quickly redirected his mental control, cutting off the pain receptors. Yet he still felt a sharp throbbing in his abdomen.

The pain isn’t going away! Minoru winced. This isn’t good!

Faced with the threat of an unidentified attack, he cast Plasma Blitz, unleashing a rapid barrage of ionized air bullets at Fumiya. But Fumiya dodged the glowing plasma shots with the same quick aerial footwork he had showcased during the Nine Schools Competition. He then landed just in time to thrust his right hand forward again.

“Ugh!” Minoru groaned, pressing his hand against his right eye.

He suddenly felt as if his eye had been crushed, but the sensation of his eyeball under his palm assured him that no real damage had been done.

He dropped to one knee, and the thought of defeat flashed through his mind.

Am I going to lose? Is this all really going to end in failure?

Driven by desperation and the fear of not fulfilling his wish, he unleashed a self-destructive spell.

Direct Pain inflicted agony directly on the target’s psyche and worked on humans and parasites alike. Fumiya was surprised his spell didn’t take Minoru down the first time, but the boy-turned-parasite was on his knees after the second blow. A calm third party observing the scene would have thought Fumiya was just one step away from victory.

However, the moment Fumiya tried to cast a third Direct Pain, he was struck by an overwhelming sense of danger. It wasn’t just a gut feeling; his magic senses detected the entire warehouse was about to be engulfed by Minoru’s magic.

Is this Nox Out?! Fumiya exclaimed internally.

Nox Out was a spell that released NOx, or nitrogen oxides. More specifically, it was an absorption-type magic that forcibly combined oxygen and nitrogen in the air. The spell’s magic program was designed to avoid the highly toxic nitrogen dioxide while primarily producing nitric oxide. The issue was that nitric oxide is also toxic. Inhaling it could cause a person to fall unconscious in minutes. The spell’s name, Nox Out, thus had a dual meaning that highlighted both its chemical nature and its effect.

For humans, loss of consciousness via nitric oxide wasn’t the only danger. By sucking a large amount of oxygen out of the air at once, the spell could also deprive humans of the oxygen they needed to breathe.

In a closed space, Nox Out was especially dangerous. Minoru unleashed it on the entire warehouse, without the standard precaution of setting up a safety zone around himself.

Is he suicidal?!

Fumiya cursed silently, but he understood what was really going on. Minoru’s strategy was to rely on his parasite’s strength and healing abilities.

Fumiya backed up to the entrance and pressed the button to open the door. Fortunately for him, Retsu Kudou had placed his traps only on the external console. The door’s inner system was harmless.

The motor operated without a hitch, and the door opened smoothly. Fumiya dashed out of the warehouse, maintaining a distance of about twenty meters just to be safe.

The nitric oxide and lack of oxygen caused Minoru’s central nervous system to shut down. But thanks to his parasite, his mind remained aware of the outside world and maintained the ability to influence it.

Go, all of you!

He commanded sixteen Parasidolls into combat. After just lifting their seals, they were now in a fully operational state and ready to move. The Parasidolls swiftly rose from their coffin-like cases and dashed toward the open entrance.

Minoru then reversed the nitrogen oxide in the warehouse air back into oxygen and nitrogen. Once the air became breathable again, his parasite’s healing abilities automatically kicked into gear.

It was not until then that he realized he was lying face down on the ground.

Pushing himself up with both hands, he murmured in a weak voice and bitter tone, “I would have lost that battle if I were still human…”

It took Ayako a little over a minute to travel fifty meters. A series of relentless attacks had been slowing her down. Her enemies were ancient magic practitioners—specifically, immortalists from the continent.

Ayako’s abilities were not cut out for direct combat. She preferred more open spaces. The type of skirmish she was faced with now was one she struggled with the most. That said, she refused to indulge in her specialty and disappear and flee. Instead, she took down the seven immortalists.

Ayako let out a relieved sigh as the attacks finally came to an end. Immortalists were far from weak, and she couldn’t help but feel proud of having defeated them without hurting herself in the process.

Luckily, the way her opponents fought was a big help. The odds were one against seven, but the immortalists never attacked all at once. Instead, one would charge in, and once it was defeated, the next one would appear. Their complete lack of coordination made the situation easier for Ayako to manage.

Each immortalist’s attack pattern was also monotonous. Ancient magic practitioners excelled at deceiving their opponents’ senses via ambushes that seemed impossible to physically break through. This caught their enemy off guard and delivered a decisive blow to break their opponent’s spirit. But if the immortalists faced Ayako head-on, they were at a disadvantage against the speed of modern magic.

Both they and Ayako knew this. Yet head-on was exactly how they approached her, launching perceptual fireballs, electric shocks that they first illuminated in their hands, and wind spells that they used exaggerated hand gestures to cast.

“I wonder if they were being controlled,” Ayako murmured.

The Yotsuba family, too, was capable of using magic to control an opponent’s will and turning them into fighting machines. The immortalists’ movements resembled those of puppets under this exact type of magic.

Minoru Kudou was also capable of hypnosis. Ayako took a mental note of this as she resumed her regular pace, determined to help her brother in the ongoing battle.

However, on her third step forward, Fumiya burst out of the warehouse entrance. Before Ayako could ask what had happened, a female android rushed out after him. Ayako recognized it immediately.

This was no ordinary combat gynoid. It was a Parasidoll—an artificial humanoid weapon infused with a demon and capable of wielding its own magic. A swarm of the dolls charged toward Fumiya, some of them redirecting their focus toward Ayako.

Fumiya’s true enemy wasn’t the Parasidolls. It was Minoru Kudou, the one controlling the swarm. Parasidolls were autonomous weapons, capable of fighting based on their own judgment. In other words, they didn’t need constant commands. However, if Fumiya could take down Minoru, the researchers at the lab could override his commands and regain control of the dolls.

It would be foolish to waste his energy and stamina fighting the Parasidolls. Prioritizing the battle against Minoru was imperative. However, no matter how much Fumiya tried to evade a useless fight, the Parasidolls wouldn’t allow it.

The Kuroba boy leaped upward, attempting to shake them off and escape into the air. But two of the dolls were hot on his heels, closing in faster than he could keep up with. Their tenacity made them seem like human-shaped projectiles.

Sensing the presence of magic, Fumiya quickly jumped to the side. But the monster-infused humanoid machines were meticulous at tracking his movements so he couldn’t escape.

Each Parasidoll specialized in its own specific type of magic, making them more akin to psychics than traditional magicians. Fumiya was shocked by the mobility of those specializing in movement magic, which far surpassed his own.

Pushed to the edge by desperation, he unleashed Direct Pain at the approaching Parasidolls, but there was no noticeable change.

It didn’t work?! he gasped.

Just as he was panicking, the two Parasidolls closed in on him. One swung its left arm, shooting out fine steel threads from the inside of its wrist. Fumiya instinctively cast a barrier shield. But the dark steel threads wrapped around him, bypassing the shield’s defenses.

The second Parasidoll was armed with a spear with two straight prongs positioned parallel to each other and a slim gap in between. A new blade, crackling with electric sparks, appeared in the gap just as the Parasidoll thrust its spear.

Fumiya charged toward the Parasidoll with the steel threads. The more he moved, the looser the threads became. He then used a clockwise air current to blow away the threads wrapped counterclockwise around him and distorted his body to dodge the spear approaching from behind.

Suddenly, the Parasidoll with the steel threads tackled Fumiya. Having just dodged the spear, he couldn’t evade this attack. The two tumbled to the ground.

Fumiya cast Direct Pain on the Parasidoll clinging to him, but once again, it had no effect.

Now I get it! Fumiya thought. Direct Pain doesn’t work on these things!

It finally all made sense. Direct Pain was a spell that directly attacked the mind to make it think it was experiencing physical pain. Since humanoid machines did not have pain receptors and the mental construct it hosted never had a physical body, there was no pain for Direct Pain to replicate.

Both Fumiya and the Parasidoll clinging to him were slammed to the ground. Unable to maintain enough inertia control, Fumiya only barely mitigated the damage enough to keep his bones intact.

“Fumiya!” Ayako screamed.

This was just what Fumiya needed to anchor his fading consciousness. He instinctively turned toward his sister, who was surrounded by three Parasidolls. Her Pseudo-Teleportation couldn’t pass through obstacles, so using it to escape in this case wasn’t an option. Yet despite her own danger, Ayako anxiously called her brother’s name.

“Move!” Fumiya urged his own body.

His mind suddenly cleared. With an explosive acceleration spell, he blasted away the Parasidoll clinging to him, jumped to his feet, and sprinted forward.

“Out of the way!”

Fumiya slammed his Knuckle Duster into the face of a Parasidoll charging at him with a knife. The part of the Knuckle Duster in his grip served as the main part of the CAD, while the portion covering his fist could be used as a physical weapon.

Fumiya left that Parasidoll to stagger to the ground. Then he sidestepped a slicing force field shot that came at him from the side, knocking another Parasidoll off balance with a compressed air bullet.

Suddenly remembering Ayako’s situation, Fumiya activated a self-acceleration spell. In an instant, he appeared behind the Parasidolls surrounding his sister. He then punched one of the dolls, simultaneously casting weighting-type magic. The force generated from the impact destroyed the Parasidoll’s internal power unit.

With the power supply cut off, the motors in the machine’s body ceased to function. The Parasidoll swayed dangerously and collapsed. After breaking through one third of Ayako’s problem, Fumiya unleashed a gust of wind at the other two Parasidolls that sent them flying.

He seized Ayako’s hand, yelling, “Let’s fall back for now!”

When Ayako spun around, she noticed there were no longer obstacles in their path. She cast Pseudo-Teleportation, and the twins vanished in thin air. Just before they left the area completely, Fumiya could have sworn he heard Minoru’s bloodcurdling scream.

After recovering from paralysis thanks to his parasite’s healing abilities, Minoru focused his attention outside the warehouse.

The battle was still going on, which meant not all the Parasidolls had been defeated. Clearly, their combat skills were effective against Fumiya Kuroba.

Minoru’s objective was to steal and use the Parasidolls as his reinforcements. There was no reason to win the fight outside. He decided to use Fumiya as a distraction and escape from the lab with Qimen Dunjia.

Minoru was heading toward the warehouse entrance when he was suddenly overwhelmed by an intoxicated feeling.

At first, he thought it was the lingering effects of the Nox Out he had cast. But he quickly realized this wasn’t the case. The symptoms he was experiencing were definitely from the nitric oxide that Nox Out produced. But this time, the spell had been cast by someone other than himself.

It was a very localized version of Nox Out, with its area of effect limited to just around the head of its target. But what bothered Minoru the most was that this complex spell had been cast without him even realizing it. He only knew one person who was capable of something like this.

Minoru cast a downward air current that dispersed the nitric oxide that was making him suffocate. Then, he scoured the warehouse for the magician behind it all.

“Grandfather!” he shouted.

The man he was looking for stood just a few meters away. Rather than embarrassment, Minoru felt himself tremble in fear at the fact that he had not sensed his grandfather’s approach.

“You noticed my spell just now, didn’t you?” the old man said with a calm tone unbefitting of someone facing an enemy. “What a shame. It is truly such a shame. I clearly did appreciate you for who you truly are.”

Regret and deep sorrow filled his voice.

“I failed to see your true worth, unable to fully understand what it was you were seeking,” Retsu continued, sounding almost like he was confessing. “I was so fond of you. I pitied you. I thought that, at the very least, I had to protect you. And yet…”

His voice trailed off and he looked toward the sky, as if holding back tears.

“Clearly, I was wrong.”

Minoru barely managed to suppress the words “That’s not true” from escaping his lips.

It’s not your fault, Grandfather, he thought. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say this to the old man out loud. Now that he had lost his humanity, Minoru suddenly felt that he no longer had the right to speak to his grandfather. He kept his mouth shut.

Retsu continued, “I see now you would rather exchange your life for something meaningful than resign yourself to a life in bed. My affection for you must have been a burden.”

“……”

“But, Minoru.” Retsu’s voice shifted. Regret shifted into resignation, confession into resolve. “I cannot accept you as you are now. I cannot let a demon that harms people go unpunished.”

“Grandfather, I—!” Minoru began.

He wanted to assure Retsu that he had no intention of causing harm to humankind. But as soon as he opened his mouth, he realized he had lost the right to say things like that.

“The family has decided not to kill you,” Retsu said. “However, if you are captured, they will only treat you as a lab rat. That is far too cruel for me to bear.”

Minoru’s heart felt as if it were struck by a powerful shock. He suddenly understood what Retsu was trying to say.

“My dear boy, allow me to bestow upon you a final act of mercy,” he said. “Let me send you to the next world with my own hands.”

Retsu unleashed a lethal spell. Minoru’s human heart tried to accept it, but his parasite’s spirit refused to die.

Suddenly, Minoru’s awareness returned—or rather, he regained his sense of reality. It felt as if he had been standing in a dream this whole time.

Outside the warehouse, Fumiya’s battle against the Parasidolls still raged on. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long.

Minoru glanced down at his body. His clothes were torn and singed in several places, but most of his wounds had healed. Even now, his parasite was healing him.

He lifted his head and gazed forward until his eyes landed on a figure collapsed on the dark warehouse floor. For a brief moment, he wondered who it was. But it wasn’t long before he realized the answer.

“Grandfather!” Minoru called out, running over to the old man.

He reached toward Retsu’s limp body. Before instinctively shaking the old man’s shoulder, he quickly withdrew his hand. He understood what had happened. His grandfather was dead.

He had killed him.

“No!” Minoru screamed.

His heart ached. He could almost hear his own soul shatter, as if a part of him were observing from a distance.

Minoru left the former Lab Nine with fifteen Parasidolls in tow. The destruction he left behind included a group of injured researchers, a broken Parasidoll, a captured immortalist, and the corpse of Retsu Kudou.

“General Kudou is dead?”

Tatsuya heard the news late that night from a call with Fumiya.

“Yes…” Fumiya faltered. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect him.”

“You’re wrong, Fumiya,” Tatsuya said.

Tatsuya’s words of comfort were exactly what Fumiya was hoping for. But Tatsuya didn’t say this frivolously. He meant every word he said.

“You did well. Not only did you face Minoru, but you even took on an entire group of Parasidolls. No one would blame you for pulling back.”

“You really think so?” Fumiya asked.

“I do.”

“…Thanks, Tatsuya.”

“Don’t let Retsu’s death weigh on you too much,” Tatsuya continued. “What happened between him and Minoru is now the Kudou family’s business. The Yotsuba family bears no responsibility for what happened inside the former Lab Nine.”

“All right.” Fumiya nodded.

Tatsuya offered some comforting words to Ayako, too, before hanging up the visiphone. Since he had received the call in his room, Miyuki still did not know that Retsu was dead.

It was getting late, so he decided it was best to save the news for the morning. Plus, he wanted to organize the details about the event in his mind.

Minoru stole fifteen Parasidolls, Tatsuya noted.

He was well aware of how strong Parasidolls were in battle. They shared a single will through a telepathy-like ability, making them more formidable as a group.

To complicate matters further, Minoru—who was also capable of telepathy—was leading them all. Needless to say, this was not going to be an easy fight.

On Monday, First High School was buzzing with the news of Retsu Kudou’s passing. The other Magic High Schools were undoubtedly experiencing something similar. Retsu Kudou was a symbolic figure revered as Sage in the Japanese magic community.

When Tatsuya arrived at school just before noon, the conversation around the lunch table was mainly focused on Retsu.

“I had no idea he was sick,” Mizuki whispered.

Honoka turned to Tatsuya. “Did you know?”

“No, I didn’t,” Tatsuya said. “I had only seen him over visiphone lately, but he seemed to be just fine.”

The Kudou family publicly announced that Retsu had died of illness. It made sense. There was no way they could say Minoru had become the monster that killed his own grandfather.

“I see…” Honoka murmured.

Erika turned to Tatsuya, “Will you and Miyuki attend the funeral?”

Both Miyuki and Tatsuya were taken aback by this question.

“We have not received a formal invitation yet,” Miyuki said. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you are the heir to a member of the Ten Master Clans.” Erika shrugged. “I think it makes perfect sense for you to be invited to the funeral.”

“I can see that.” Leo nodded knowingly. “And Tatsuya is Miyuki’s fiancé, so he would be invited, too.”

“I’ll go if I’m invited,” Tatsuya said. “I owe General Kudou a favor from the Nine School Competition two years ago.”

Retsu had helped him out when he confronted the tournament organizers about the Electron Goldworm cast on Miyuki’s CAD.

During the next Nine School Competition, on the other hand, Retsu had caused Tatsuya a world of trouble. But there was no need to mention that now.

“Oh, right…” Shizuku chimed in nostalgically.

She seemed to immediately recall the incident from the Nine School Competition two years ago. Miyuki surely remembered it as well, but it was only Shizuku who spoke up.

The others were probably avoiding the subject. They were sensitive to the fact that this year’s event had been canceled and that Tatsuya was somewhat responsible for that decision.

Erika, however, seemed completely oblivious and pressed the topic further. In fact, she exhibited a completely different kind of sensitivity altogether.

“After what happened with Sage, this year’s Nine School Competition might have been canceled anyway out of respect,” she said.

“Actually, it probably would have gone on despite General Kudou’s death,” Tatsuya interjected. “He loved the Nine School Competition.”

When there were just ten minutes left until lunch was over, the group stood up from the table and began to exit the cafeteria all together. This was when Erika called out to Tatsuya and Miyuki.

“Can I have a moment, you two?”

“What is it?” Miyuki asked.

Erika wrung her hands. “Well…”

It was immediately clear she didn’t want to talk in front of the others. Even Mikihiko could tell.

“You can use the disciplinary committee room,” he interjected. “No one should be there right now.”

“Okay.” Tatsuya nodded. “What do you think, Miyuki?”

“That sounds fine to me. Will that work, Erika?”

Erika obviously didn’t refuse.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The disciplinary committee office was empty, as Mikihiko had said. Miyuki used her student council president ID card to unlock the door.

Once they were inside, Miyuki cast a soundproof field and she, Tatsuya, and Erika sat down at a long table. The table was neat to a fault, just as Mikihiko liked it. This was in stark contrast to how things had been when Tatsuya had first joined the committee.

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll get straight to the point,” Erika began, before continuing, “Miki told me about tonight.”

Miyuki turned to Tatsuya next to her.

Not seeming particularly surprised, Tatsuya replied, “I see.”

Tatsuya hadn’t told Mikihiko about Miyuki’s plans for this night. So, of course, Erika couldn’t know about them, either.

Erika turned to Miyuki. “What will you do?”

“I plan to stay by Minami’s side until my brother returns,” Miyuki responded.

“Are you worried about Minoru?” Erika asked.

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

Erika sighed, not for dramatics but to prepare herself for what she was going to say next. She knew she was pushing boundaries.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she said.

“In Minami’s hospital room?” Miyuki asked, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.” Erika nodded before quickly adding, “Leo will be with Miki. Miki’s guard will be down when he’s casting the necessary spell.”

Tatsuya hadn’t heard anything about this. Leo and Mikihiko were probably planning to discuss things after school.

“Does Leo understand what he’s getting himself into?” Tatsuya interjected.

“Of course he does,” Erika asserted.

This might have been presumptuous on her part, but Tatsuya unquestionably treated her as Leo’s spokesperson.

“Well, if you’re sure, I’m happy to accept help from both of you,” he said.

Erika had been expecting resistance from Tatsuya, so his answer made her feel both surprised and relieved. She shifted her gaze to Miyuki.

“So what do you say?”

“Erika,” Miyuki replied slowly, “I am not as used to fighting as Tatsuya is. If something happens, I may not be able to protect you. Are you all right with that?”

“I don’t want you to protect me. I’m going to protect you,” Erika said.

“Well…” Miyuki hesitated before turning to her brother. “Tatsuya, what do you think?”

“Erika should be fine,” Tatsuya replied, glancing at her. “Besides, she really seems to want to do this.”

“You bet I do,” Erika said with a fearless smile.

Tatsuya was just bluffing. He didn’t think Minoru would take action so soon after what had happened the previous day. If there was any real risk, it would affect Mikihiko and Leo instead.

That night, the sky was unusually clear enough to see the stars—a rare event nowadays. The moon was still nowhere to be seen and wouldn’t appear until around midnight.

Tatsuya was in a large park’s parking lot, two blocks away from Zama Base. The lot was on the side opposite the base, making it impossible to see Zama from where he stood.

Although Tatsuya had believed what Erika said about Leo, he was somewhat surprised to see him with Mikihiko as promised.

“Are you really sure about this, Leo?” Tatsuya asked.

“You didn’t ask that to Mikihiko,” Leo said with a disgruntled frown. “You don’t have to double-check with me.”

“To be honest, I wish I didn’t have to involve Mikihiko in this, either,” Tatsuya replied.

“But you need my skills,” Mikihiko interjected.

“Well, yeah,” Tatsuya admitted reluctantly.

Despite Tatsuya’s tone, Mikihiko seemed pleased to hear that his help was valued.

“If Mikihiko is fine about being here, I am, too,” Leo said. “Besides, I’m less likely to become a target than he is.”

Since Mikihiko used remote spells, this put him at greater risk of being hit by a magic counterattack. That said, if an enemy traced the magic back to him and decided to retaliate, Leo would inevitably be drawn into the battle as well.

“All right. You win.” Tatsuya sighed.

He knew it would be pointless to argue any further. Leo had already expressed his resolve after school. Besides, Leo’s willingness to protect Mikihiko while the latter’s consciousness was focused on the base was enormously helpful. In fact, at this moment, Tatsuya trusted Leo even more than the Independent Magic Battalion.

“I’m counting on you, Mikihiko,” Tatsuya said. “As for you, Leo, take care of Mikihiko.”

“You got it, boss,” Leo saluted.

“Thanks, Leo,” Mikihiko said.

Tatsuya swung his leg over his electric motorcycle, Wingless, a vehicle developed by the Yotsuba family and equipped with short-distance flight abilities. The combat suit he had on wasn’t his standard Moval Suit, but the Yotsuba family’s flying combat suit, the Freed Suit.

Tonight’s mission was officially unconnected to the 101st Brigade. While reinforcements from the Independent Magic Battalion were on emergency standby, their orders were to remain hidden unless a true crisis unfolded.

“See you later,” Tatsuya said.

He slid his helmet’s visor over his eyes and started up the bike.

The USNA military transport plane had just landed at Zama Base and was slowly taxiing on the runway. As a precaution, Fujibayashi had checked the flight logs beforehand to confirm it was the only USNA military aircraft that landed today. In fact, this was the only USNA military plane to arrive within the past week.

Great timing, Tatsuya thought as he drove adjacent to the base.

He used his Elemental Sight to observe the situation. There were clearly parasites aboard the plane. Unlike Minoru, they did not conceal their distinctive psion wave patterns. Or maybe they just couldn’t.

Four parasites in total, Tatsuya noted. That’s fewer than expected. But it looks like one is much stronger than the others.

Determined to resolve things before the parasites even disembarked from the plane, he activated Wingless’s flight function.

The commander of Stars Team 3, Alexander Arcturus, was aboard the transport plane that had landed at Zama Base.

Is someone watching us? he thought as the plane taxied down the runway.

He had felt as if he was being observed from the moment they landed. Yet the gaze of whoever was watching lacked any sense of direction.

If they were using remote observation, the flow of power from their gaze would allow Arcturus to pinpoint its source. If they were using a familiar, the familiar itself would serve as the source of the gaze.

There was a special ability known as Multiscope, which allowed for complete surveillance from every angle, mimicking a setup of cameras in midair. There was also a chance that the culprit could be using multiple familiars from various angles, but this would still have a sense of direction.

The gaze Arcturus felt had no single source he could identify. It wasn’t coming from all directions, either. It was simply watching.

It was as if he were under the scrutiny of something divine, or even demonic. He was so absorbed in this imperceptible gaze that he was completely unaware of what was happening around him.

“What the heck is that?!”

“It’s a motorcycle!”

It wasn’t until one of his companions cried out that Arcturus noticed a strange flying object rapidly approaching. A small silhouette appeared on the plane’s exterior monitor. The monitor’s detection system automatically switched to night vision and zoomed in. But by the time the target became clear, it was already closing in on the plane.

Someone on what seemed to be a flying motorcycle stood firmly on the vehicle’s foot pegs with straightened knees and aimed what looked to be a handgun directly at the transport plane. Suddenly, a hole was blasted into the side of the plane.

The rider leaped from the motorcycle, which soared through the air. He then skillfully dove through the hole he had just created and tumbled into the aircraft. It wasn’t until this moment that alarms finally blared through the plane cabin.

Tatsuya flew toward the transport plane on his motorcycle, drawing a handgun-shaped specialized CAD from his suit’s holster. He then cast Dismantle with his favorite CAD, the Silver Horn Custom Trident. The spell blew open a hole in the transport plane’s wall large enough for him to jump through.

He switched Wingless to autopilot and leaped through the opening he had created, rolling onto the cabin floor of the transport plane. Right after sticking his landing, he cast Regenerate, and the hole in the plane vanished.

Tatsuya had sealed himself in a confined space to prevent the parasites from escaping. The USNA military personnel sat frozen in their seats, unable to comprehend what was happening. The parasites were in a similar state of shock.

Tatsuya charged at the nearest parasite. He had returned both of his CADs to their holsters. Now, in his right hand, he gripped only a short, needlelike knife. Its slender blade was intricately etched with some kind of fine pattern.

Tatsuya’s target shook itself free from its shock and rose to its feet. Instead of using the knife, Tatsuya thrust his left fist forward. Just before coming into contact with the parasite, he opened his fist. At hyper-close range, he unleashed Piercing Psion Bullet.

The parasite screamed and began convulsing violently. Tatsuya then drove his knife into the spot just below the parasite’s left collarbone.

“That’s the signal!” Mikihiko whispered in the park two blocks down from the base.

He sensed the sealing talisman he had prepared embed itself in a parasite’s body.

The needlelike dagger in Tatsuya’s possession was a magic tool with a talisman for a blade. Mikihiko held a talisman that matched the dagger imprinted on a fan in his left hand. In one fell swoop, he whipped open the fan and activated a sealing spell.

The convulsing parasite suddenly went limp, like a broken rag doll. It collapsed to the floor with the needlelike knife still embedded below its collarbone.

Tatsuya’s Piercing Psion Bullet had thrown its internal psions into a state of chaos. Just as the link between its mind and its body became disrupted, a sealing spell was poured in. The newly born parasite had no means to resist. Even if it managed to dispel the knife from its body, the sealing technique was already inscribed in its flesh. As long as no other magician could surpass Mikihiko’s expertise, the parasite would remain in a sleeplike state.

As if their colleague’s scream had broken their stupor, the other American soldiers suddenly sprang to their feet. They showed no sign of hesitation as they pulled out their weapons.

But Tatsuya dismantled over twenty assault carbines and submachine guns all at once. The disarmed soldiers were again thrown into a state of shock. Seizing his chance, Tatsuya swiftly took care of the next parasite.

His target spasmed, fell limp, and was sealed into a sleeplike state. Just then, the parasite Tatsuya had been wary of—the one that was significantly more powerful than the rest—made its move.

Arcturus had no idea what was happening. The hole that had suddenly appeared in the plane wall vanished like some dream or illusion.

The intruder who had leaped through the hole, however, did not disappear. In fact, in a matter of seconds, he had sealed away a former Stardust member who had recently become a parasite.

Stardust were basically lab rats waiting for death. By turning into parasites, they should have been able to escape the inevitable fate of death. Yet now they found themselves in a state almost as good as dead.

The allied soldiers on board the plane aimed their weapons at the intruder. Although they were not parasites, they saw the intruder as a terrorist who had killed one of their own. They could not have known he had only sealed the parasite away.

The intruder was looking down the barrels of more than twenty guns. In the cramped transport aircraft cabin, there was no chance of escape. Even if his suit was bulletproof, being shot at from such close range by dozens of bullets would at least injure him in some way.

However, a powerful magic suddenly surged through the cabin. It wasn’t just strong. It was precise, efficient, and almost artistic in its execution. Over twenty assault rifles and submachine guns shattered to pieces, their components flung in all directions. Cylinders and rounds rolled across the floor, but not a single shot was fired.

Caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, or perhaps mesmerized by the power of the intruder’s magic, Arcturus found himself letting another comrade fall. The intruder sealed him away.

Arcturus drew his tomahawk and charged. His specialty was the midrange combat spell Dancing Blades. Though he excelled in elemental magic and remote weapon control, his expertise lay more in interference-type magic than direct attacks.

Fighting in such a confined space was not his cup of tea. But he was by no means your run-of-the-mill magician who could only use magic. Before joining the Stars, Arcturus was undefeated with his tomahawk in hand.

He advanced toward the intruder and swung his weapon. While not expecting to win with one hit, he doubted the intruder could evade his strike. Yet the intruder not only dodged but vanished from Arcturus’s sight.

Arcturus spun around. A third parasite who had come to his aid with a large knife in hand was convulsing uncontrollably. Once again, the intruder stabbed him with a needlelike dagger right beneath the collarbone.

It was only a matter of time before his last fellow parasite would be sealed away. And then, Arcturus realized—the intruder wasn’t the one casting the sealing spell. Even if he defeated this man, the seal would not disappear.

He hurled the tomahawk in his hand. It pierced through the aircraft wall and soared into the sky.

Sensing powerful magic, Tatsuya spun around.

His job here was done. The third parasite was almost completely sealed away. More importantly, he needed to be on guard against the last remaining and most formidable parasite.

The fourth parasite’s magic wasn’t aimed at him. For some reason, the parasite threw his tomahawk into the airplane wall. It pierced clean through and vanished into the night sky.

Tatsuya wondered what the fourth parasite was trying to do, but he didn’t have time to track the tomahawk with Elemental Sight. Instead, he drew his combat knife just as the fourth parasite charged at him.

Tatsuya’s Elemental Sight revealed his opponent to be none other than Alexander Arcturus, the commander of Stars Team 3. Unlike Lina and Minoru, Tatsuya couldn’t disguise his information bodies. He simply intercepted Arcturus’s knife strike with a chop of the hand.

In addition to the CAD in his holster, Tatsuya’s Freed Suit was equipped with a fully thought-operated CAD. He cast Dismantle at hyper-close range and turned Arcturus’s knife into sand. Just then, an ordinary soldier came at him from behind.

Tatsuya pivoted, swapping positions with the soldier and shoving him toward Arcturus. The commander caught the soldier, and Tatsuya used the momentum to unleash a piercing shock wave at the soldier’s back. His technique was a mere imitation of a martial arts move enhanced with magic. Power-wise, however, they were exactly the same.

Arcturus’s towering six-foot frame staggered backward. Tatsuya grabbed the collar of the regular soldier with his right hand and thrust his left hand toward Arcturus for Piercing Psion Bullet.

Arcturus felt the projectile hit his body. Tatsuya drew out a fourth needlelike dagger and aimed for Arcturus’s collarbone, but Arcturus grabbed the blade before it could hit its mark.

The Piercing Psion Bullet was working, but Arcturus had not completely lost his ability to fight. He even had the strength to gather plasma in his right hand, preparing to unleash a lightning strike with ancient magic.

The way he was casting would ensure he was electrocuted first. But maybe he was relying on his parasite’s durability.

Before Arcturus could unleash the attack, Tatsuya struck his opponent’s lower stomach once again. Arcturus lurched backward, and the sparks vanished from his right hand.

Tatsuya knocked Arcturus’s left hand aside and thrust the needlelike blade into his chest before he could fight back. After confirming the sealing spell was activated, Tatsuya opened a hole in the floor and quickly made his exit.

“Something’s coming!” Mikihiko shouted urgently.

Before Leo asked what it was, he activated his five senses.

His ears caught the sound of something slicing through the air at high speed. It wasn’t as fast as a bullet or a missile, but it was still traveling over two hundred kilometers per hour. Based on speeds he had experienced before, it was faster than a baseball pitch and maybe slightly faster than a high-speed tennis serve.

Leo’s eyes recognized the dangerous object before Mikihiko could fully comprehend it. It was a spinning tomahawk. He noticed a group of soldiers jump out from the shadows, but he didn’t wait for their help.

Leo instinctively stood in the tomahawk’s path with Mikihiko at his back. This wasn’t done out of survival instinct. It was fighting instinct.

“Siegfried!” Leo roared.

He thrust both hands forward, ready to stop the tomahawk—Alexander Arcturus’s Dancing Blades—in its tracks. Using the ancient magic spell Siegfried to fortify his body, Leo seized the weapon. His body, protected by the indestructibility spell, beat Arcturus’s trump card.

Once Leo had confirmed the tomahawk had come to a complete stop in his hands, he fell back hard onto the ground. All the while, he kept a firm grip on the upper part of the handle near the tomahawk’s blade.

Meanwhile, Mikihiko had no time to pay attention to Leo. He was much too focused on sealing the parasites. And he knew Leo would protect him.

The trifecta collaboration between Tatsuya, Mikihiko, and Leo managed to successfully seal Arcturus and the three parasites during their attempt to infiltrate Zama Base.

Meanwhile, a USNA Navy aircraft carrier arrived at Yokosuka Naval Base. The evening entry was part of a night flight training exercise, which had been communicated to the Japanese military in advance.

However, not all the details had been disclosed. For instance, the carrier was equipped with the latest twin-seat VTOL fighter jets. The Japanese military was unaware that these aircrafts had launched from a super-massive submarine equipped with a flight deck. They also did not know that the three twin-seat fighter jets were carrying women who were neither radar intercept officers nor ordnance officers in their back seats.

The names of the women were Charlotte Vega, Zoey Spica, and Layla Deneb. These Stars officers had become parasites right after Lina left the USNA. On the night of Monday, July 1, 2097, the three of them infiltrated the Yokosuka Naval Base.